#but i would not say it at all glorified the bomb

[hartwinorlose]

yesterday i commited barbenheimer and if you plan to do this, i suggest going Oppenheimer first, then Barbie

astoundingly, my favorite part of both films was the same:

the soundtrack

the production/set design

In both films, these were quite impressive

oppenheimer: i have come to the conclusion that oppenheimer was a not-very-interesting man surrounded by interesting circumstances. i thought the acting was all phenomenal, the cinematography was great. sound mixing could have been better. it is 3 hours long and really felt like it near the end. i thought the subject matter was well-handled and nuanced, and i really like the way it portrayed scientists. the ending conversation with einstein was one of the best parts of the film. i don't think this is a movie for everyone because it is so long and focused on such a depressing topic

barbie: i enjoyed this, especially the musical sequences. some of the jokes fell pretty flat; others really hit. will ferrell and the board members were a weak link - not even sure why they were in this. i thought ryan gosling and margot robbie were both show-stealers. the sets and fashion of this were AMAZING. i thought the core message was pretty solid for young girls, though it's not saying anything that's much of a revelation to older audiences

[eldritch-thrumming]

i saw that review on letterboxd of all the rhetorical questions for barbie and like… the more i think abt it, the more i’m certain that the review’s author fundamentally misunderstood the film. barbie land is not a utopia in the way that adults would think abt a utopia, like the author seems to imply… barbie land is canonically shaped by little girls playing with their dolls. that’s why we see a supreme court. thats why there are nobel prizes and authors and lawyers (also because that’s how the toys are marketed… would there be a mermaid in ur utopia??? there would be in mine!). that’s why barbie and ken don’t necessarily know what a boyfriend and girlfriend are “meant” to do (not to mention that the author’s assumption that sex is fundamental to a romantic relationship is problematic at best). that’s why barbie is indifferent to ken (i personally had the life size barbie and my sister had the barbie dream house—we had the working woman barbie game, i had the genie barbie gameboy game, we had countless barbie dolls; we didn’t own a single ken doll lol). barbie land is a world created by and for little girls as they play with their dolls (she says in a comment on the original post “don’t little girls play with their dolls in a sexual way?” and yeah, sure, some do. but i didn’t and i’m sure there are others who didn’t… just like there are some girls who completely mutilated their own dolls and made them into horrifying creatures)… that’s why stereotypical barbie starts having an existential crisis—because a grown woman begins to play with her doll again and starts reshaping barbie land… we, as the audience, are meant to understand this as an outlier to how barbie land is canonically created. the author also calls ken “crass” and “slovenly”… maybe after he builds the patriarchy in barbie land he becomes “crass” but i wouldn’t call him slovenly at any point in the film (i suppose this is just semantics tho).

also, please stop saying that barbie land is a reversal of the real world. it isn’t, even if that may have been the filmmakers intentions. again, barbie is indifferent to ken. she does not abuse him, she does not treat him like he exists to service her by cooking or cleaning or providing other favors for her… barbie does not oppress ken in the way that men oppress women in the real world (we have no idea if he owns property or where he lives and she doesn’t seem to particularly care—extremely different from the fact that women couldn’t have their own bank accounts or credit cards, get a mortgage on their own or divorce their husbands through no fault divorce until the second half of the 20th century in the us… within a lot of our mothers and grandmothers lifetimes!!!!) and it is a complete disservice to conflate or equate the two. we actually see barbie drawing clear boundaries around her time and space in regards to ken—this is not a reversal of misogyny as women and girls experience it in the real world, by any stretch of the imagination.

is the film perfect or revolutionary or radical? of course not. it was produced by major studios and corporations in hollywood. of course the barbie movie is a fucking commercial for barbie, like… to expect anything different is just extremely dumb on your part if u saw the trailer, saw the marketing, saw the interviews, bought a ticket, and sat ur ass in the theater, like be fuckin serious. but don’t do women and girls a disservice by discrediting the world and thoughts and ideas it could open up for them by seeing themselves be taken seriously on screen in a major summer blockbuster with stupid fucking questions because u want to feel superior to everyone else because YOU and ONLY YOU see through the capitalist marketing of lipstick pop girlboss feminism (especially when juxtaposed with the way the female characters are treated in oppenheimer, which we cannot help but compare to the barbie film with the viral marketing of barbenheimer).

[in-my-feels-probably]

Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

I Feel So High School (Every Time I Look At You)

Request: Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

and: art being 10ish years older than reader? that’s all i got. go crazy

Hi! Challengers has been on my mind literally since the day it came out, and I think I've read every single fic on here about it, so I figured I’d give it a shot writing one myself. First of all, I combined your requests, hope that’s ok. Second, this is my first time writing for Art, so please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing his character. I haven’t written a fic in weeks, so my skills are definitely a little rusty. Please be kind! Anyways, I hope you like this. Let me know what you think, and thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: none? idk, maybe very vague mentions of sex, art is divorced, swearing, i guess the age gap taboo. let me know if i missed anything)

—

You should have known trying to explain your situation with Art to someone else would’ve been difficult, but finally telling your roommate everything was just as humiliating as you thought it would be. She always had a knack for nosing her way into your business, and not even you were immune to her federal level detective skills when it came to getting information out of someone. 

“And I’m seeing him today,” you finished your rant as you sucked in a breath, wincing as you waited for the bomb to drop.

But it didn’t. Your roommate just grinned, standing up and walking over to your closet. You watched with a confused look on your face until she turned to you, already elbow deep in your clothes.

“So…you have a sugar daddy?” your roommate asked, trying to stifle a laugh as she rifled through your closet to help you find an outfit. “No judgment, I’m honestly jealous.”

You picked a pillow up off your bed, launching it at her when she smirked as you flushed. “I don’t have a sugar daddy! I have a…well—ok, I don’t know what we are. But he’s not my sugar daddy.”

“No, he’s just an ex pro tennis player with a famous ex wife who was also a pro tennis player that he had a perfect little girl with, complete with a house in the Hamptons. Now, he’s…what, exactly? A coach? A commentator? Part of Stanford’s glorified alumni? No, I’ve got it! I know what he is — hot. In a beekeeping age, recently divorced, kind of way.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up to help her look through your closet. “He’s only in his thirties. You’re making him sound archaic and washed up.”

“Look at you, gushing over him,” she grinned as she finally landed on something for you to wear, quickly handing it to you. “At least he has good taste. You’re hot, too.”

Your roommate turned around while you quickly changed, sitting down at the foot of your bed. She talked over her shoulder as you got dressed, her voice full of curiosity.

“So, how did this all happen anyway?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Remember alumni week with all the guest lectures and presentations a few months ago?”

“You met Art Donaldson during alumni week? What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have skipped all my classes that week if I thought I was gonna pick up a trophy husband instead of being forced to sit through a mind-numbingly boring presentation from some guy who used to go here that I’ve never heard of.”

“Sucks to suck, babe,” you grinned, finished getting dressed. “I’m good, you can turn around now.”

She quickly turned around, patting the spot on the bed next to her.

“How did this even happen? I’ve never seen you step foot on a tennis court in your life, and I know they wouldn’t have asked him to speak in a graduate lecture.”

You sat down next to her, nodding. “He did a seminar down at the courts for the kinesiology majors or something like that. They were learning about sports related injuries and how to treat them. He told them about how he hurt his shoulder a few years ago during a match, and he talked about all the physical therapy he had to do.”

“You’re telling me you sat through a kinesiology lecture? On a tennis court? When you don’t even study kinesiology?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “He told me about it that first week while he was here.”

Your roommate giggled, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Oh my god! Okay, okay. Spill. Now. I want to know everything.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but started ranting again anyway. 

—

In truth, you didn’t really know what your relationship with Art was. You’d met when returning alumni who’d gone on to excel in their fields came to campus for guest lectures and demonstrations.

In a total mortifying cliche, you ran into Art in a hallway while you were rushing to a lecture that had already started ten minutes earlier. You would have been on time, but your roommate accidentally locked herself out of your dorm, and the RA wasn’t answering their phone. She had an exam she needed to get to, which—in her own words—“trumps your boring book lecture.” You had no choice but to turn around and save her, making the trek back across campus to let her in. That’s how you ended up running face first into Art, your bag and all your things scattering across the floor. By some miracle, at least the halls were empty.

You quickly kneeled, scrambling to pick up all your things. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, kneeling to help you.

It was then when you looked up, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. Art Donaldson—famous alumni and world renowned tennis player—was crouched right in front of you, handing you half empty tubes of chapstick, a pair of headphones, and a stray pack of gum. Oh god, you thought to yourself. Why me? Why today? You quickly cleared your throat, standing up.

“God, sorry. Thanks…Mr. Donaldson.”

You cringed as you said it, the title of Mr. feeling off as it rolled off your tongue.

“Mr. Donaldson?” he raised a brow, shaking his head. “No, just call me Art. Uh, you know who I am? Am I actually still recognizable here? I figured no one off of the courts would have any idea who I was.”

You glanced down at his shirt, pointing. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Art paled, raising a hand to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. Good one, he thought to himself. Very humble. He cringed to himself as his cheeks flushed, a small smile on his face.

“Right. I knew that.”

You smiled, pulling your bag back over your shoulder as you let out a little chuckle. “I know who you are. Stanford never lets us forget about their prized students.”

“Ah,” he nodded, grinning. “In my day, it was Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Connelly. Although, Reese dropped out halfway through her degree, so they don’t talk about her much—”

“And Jennifer left Yale to come study here,” you finished. “That’s one they do still brag about.”

Art smiled, leaning back against the wall as he looked at you. You suddenly became very aware of your situation, tearing your eyes away from him to look down the hall where your class was. Art’s eyes followed, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Am I keeping you?”

“No!” you said all too quickly, biting your tongue for a second before you forced yourself to calm down and continue. “Uh, my class already started. It’s not really important, he doesn’t count attendance anyway. And, to be honest, he’s pretty dull. He managed to make Jane Austen boring.”

“Not Bazin’s class, is it?” Art asked, making you raise a brow.

“Yeah, it is. How’d you know that?”

Art smiled, letting out a little laugh. “That’s why I came this way, I wanted to see if Professor Bazin still taught English here. He was a dinosaur even when I graduated. I’m surprised they still let him teach.”

“If they actually read the end of term course evaluations they make us fill out, they wouldn’t,” you mused, making Art grin wider.

“I guess I should let you go then,” Art shrugged, glancing down the hall. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on something you could use in your scathing evaluation.”

You glanced back down the hallway at your classroom, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want to go just yet. 

All you did at Stanford was go to and from class and stay on top of your studies. It was monotonous and boring, and you were always up to your neck in papers and projects. Other than your roommate, you hardly had any people left you talked to or hung out with. They all graduated with their undergrad degrees, and you moved on to your graduate studies. Your education was important to you, but it got lonely. You almost never took risks anymore. But as you glanced back at him, that’s what you did.

You took the risk.

“Or…you could save me from my misery?” you stuttered out, an awkward smile on your face.

Art looked at you with an amused expression, tilting his head as he waited for you to continue. You swallowed, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“My classes are almost all entirely in this building. I’m sure you’re sick of talking about tennis, but between here and my dorm, I don’t think I see enough sunlight in a day to keep me going. Maybe you could walk with me somewhere that actually sees the sun? Doesn’t have to be the courts or anything, although I can say with full confidence that I’ve never actually seen that part of campus and I’m in my graduate studies. Uh, maybe you’ve got somewhere in mind? Or you could let me buy you a cup of shitty cafeteria coffee? I promise I’ll refrain from asking you about your career. But, as I’m sure you can tell just by looking at me, I don’t really know enough about tennis to ask anyway.”

As you rambled on, horrified by your own rambling but determined to put yourself out there, Art smiled. 

He’d met a lot of girls over the years. Some girls who had a genuine interest in him but didn’t last, and some who saw his fame and fortune as a one way ticket to an easy life. 

None of them mattered. 

He had married Tashi, head over heels from the first moment he saw her. He had a kid with her, a career with her, a seemingly picture perfect life with her. It didn’t even occur to him to look at other girls until his marriage started to strain under the weight of his career, and he’d almost forgotten what it was like to look at a girl for the first time and feel that sickening but addictive feeling of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. After the divorce, it felt so foreign to him that he didn’t even try. He had resigned himself to being a single father who co-parents and lives the rest of his life comfortably and quietly.

But here you were, rambling on with flushed cheeks and bright eyes trying your hardest to ask him out, and he couldn’t be more captivated.

There was just something about you. You were pretty, obviously. Anyone with eyes would’ve been able to see that. But there was something else, too. You were still young and not entirely pessimistic yet, with your whole career ahead of you. Probably no more than a few heartbreaks under your belt, able to muster up some sort of courage to fight for what you wanted. He used to have that, and he missed it — admired it, even. As you finally cut yourself off and looked up at him with mortification written across your face, Art saved you from further embarrassment with a smile. 

“Um…coffee sounds good,” he said with a shy smile. “Not from the cafeteria, though. If it’s as bad as it was when I went here, I’m not gonna let you waste your meal card money on it. There’s a cart outside of the athletics center, I stopped by it this morning. It’s still good.”

Trying your best to mask the shock you were feeling by his answer, you quickly nodded. “Oh, okay. Sounds good.”

You spent the entire afternoon with him. Coffee turned into lunch, and lunch turned into a long walk. Although you both had things to do, neither of you wanted to say goodbye and go on with your day. You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, letting Art show you around campus. He took you to all the places you had never been, and you kept quiet and let him show you anyway when you passed somewhere you had already been a hundred times. He was polite and asked you about your major and career goals, even managing a graceful smile when it was his turn to tell you about his career and how it unfolded after he graduated. He was careful to leave out the end, but he found himself comfortable enough to tell you about the first few years. You asked what you could, but you really didn’t know enough about the sport to ask much of anything.

“I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?” he asked when there was a lapse in silence after you passed a poster with his face on it for a Wimbledon campaign.

“No, not at all!” you replied, tilting your head up towards the poster. “I’m just wondering how you managed it.”

Art cocked a brow, turning towards you. “Managed what?”

“Not becoming a complete asshole,” you shrugged, making him burst out laughing. “I’m serious! You’re not the first celebrity to come here during alumni week. The difference between you and them is that you didn’t show up and immediately start bragging about how successful you had become. As far as I can tell, you’re the same as when you graduated. That seems pretty rare.”

“There’s not much to brag about,” he shrugged, too humble for his own good.

“A career Grand Slam isn’t worth bragging about?” you asked, turning away from him when he gave you a confused look. “Okay, fine, I may or may not have Googled you back in the restaurant while you were in the bathroom. I was running out of things to ask you, and I figured I should know something about tennis. Anyway, I was impressed.”

Art just chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

After walking a few more minutes, the street lamps turned on. It had gotten late enough in the evening that they were starting to light up around the darker parts of the campus. It was your cue to stop walking and look around, both of you realizing how long it had been since you started talking.

“I guess I should be headed back to my dorm,” you said, a hint of disappointment in your voice. “My roommate is probably freaking out by now. She knows I never really go anywhere after class without her—and yes, I heard how pathetic that sounded as it came out. She’s probably gonna call campus security if I don’t show up soon.”

Art nodded, knowing you were right. And yet, his feet didn’t move. Neither of you made any attempt to leave, still standing under the soft light of the street lamps. Art looked at you with soft eyes, absentmindedly reaching to fiddle with his wedding ring with his thumb before he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. Finally, he cleared his throat. 

“Well…I guess this is the part where I ask you for your number.”

“It was nice meeting you, too—” you started, doing a double take once his words registered. “Wait, what?”

Art let out a nervous laugh, shrugging. “You bought me a coffee, it’s only fair that I do the same. I’m here all week. Maybe you’d want to do this again sometime?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, that sounds good,” you replied, trying your best and failing to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Art smiled and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts. He handed it over to you, watching as you typed in your number before handing his phone back to him. You fought the heat pooling in your cheeks, fiddling with the strap of your bag. Art grinned, breaking the silence. 

“Go find your roommate. Tell her to call off the search party.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’m on it. Well…bye, Art.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll text you,” he replied, enjoying watching you shuffle back and forth on your heels. 

He made you nervous. And for some reason, he liked that. He’d spent practically the last decade of his life perpetually nervous. It was nice to know someone else felt the same way. 

He watched you go as you turned around and headed back to your dorm, a distant but still familiar warmth in his chest. He’d only known you for a few hours, but he could already tell he liked you. By the time you made it back to your dorm and managed to come up with an excuse for your roommate who immediately interrogated you the second you stepped through the door, your phone was ringing. You excused yourself to the bathroom with a bashful grin on your face, answering the call.

—

You spent the better part of a week with Art when you both had time between your classes and his seminars. 

It felt surprisingly easy and normal talking to him. Your small talk about your careers and plans turned into more personal topics, and then you were talking about anything and everything. You were fully aware of the age gap between you two, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. If anything, it was part of the draw to him. He was also kind and friendly, with a surprisingly self deprecating sense of humor that made you laugh. Not to mention the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous. You had to actively make sure he didn’t catch you staring at him when his head was turned. He made you want to actually giggle out loud, which is something you never thought you’d do over a guy.

By the end of the week when it was time for him to leave and go back to New York, you both were dreading saying goodbye. 

It was late in the evening, about an hour before he had to leave to catch his flight. He’d finally taken you to the courts, once again only lit by the street lamps overhead. It was the first time all week he’d stepped onto the court and actually wanted to be there, not surrounded by onlookers who knew every nook and cranny of his life and career. Instead it was you, the sweet pretty girl who made him genuinely laugh when you asked him why the points system would ever use the term love to describe a lacking score. 

He fiddled around for a while, teaching you a few serves and how to hold the racquet to hit the ball. Eventually he was on the other side of the net, watching you giggle and chase after the few balls he’d softly serve your way. He could hear you panting and the sound of your shoes skidding across the court, but your laughter was too sweet to make him stop. 

Finally, you stopped to take a break, sitting down on the bench. “Don’t look at me, I might cough up a lung.”

“Very impressive,” he smiled, passing you his water.

“Thank you,” you grinned, motioning between him in the court. “Go on, let’s see what you’ve got. I’m down for the count, but I’m sure the ball machine will be more than happy to fill in for me.”

Art smiled, watching you grin at him with flushed cheeks and glowy skin. If anyone else was asking, he wouldn’t have done it. He wasn’t interested in showing off his skills, or lack thereof to put it more accurately as of late — he’d stopped training as intensely after the divorce, no new tournaments waiting for him to come and win. But the look on your face when you asked was just one he couldn’t say no to. Plus, your knowledge of the sport wasn’t that vast. You probably wouldn’t notice if he slipped up anyway. And if you did, you’d be too kind to make him feel bad about it.

“If you insist,” he groaned, but he was still smiling to himself as he moved to the other side of the court.

You watched him play for a few more minutes. He really was something to see. Every movement he made was smooth and graceful, a far cry from the stumbling around and huffing and puffing you had been doing. Every ball hit its target, every serve lining up exactly where he wanted it to. As silly as it sounded, you actually had to prevent yourself from clapping once he finally slowed down and turned the machine off.

“Look at you go,” you smiled from the bench, handing him back his water as he walked back over.

His cheeks flushed pink, and he was silently praying you couldn’t see it from under the low lights. He was too busy getting all flustered to reply to you, and it made you smile. It was silent for a long moment as you stared at each other, before he finally stood up. You followed him, a sinking feeling in your gut as you realized that it was probably time to say goodbye.

It had been a week you had never even dreamed would’ve happened to you, and yet it did. The one risk you decided to take had led to the most fun you’d had in your entire time at Stanford. You didn’t want to see him go.

As you looked up at him with soft eyes and a melancholy look on your face, like you were looking to him for all the answers, Art felt a sharp tug in his chest. He found himself immediately wanting to fix it, wanting to make you smile again — smile because of him. He’d have done anything in that moment to get you to laugh again.

So, against his better judgment, he leaned in and kissed you. 

It was a spur of the moment decision, one he almost immediately regretted. But then he felt you sink into the kiss, your hands coming up to his waist to steady yourself. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you into him, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips. 

And that was all it took — he was falling, and falling hard. 

—

That was months ago now, and yet, Art still found reasons to visit you. 

When there was lapses in tours, or it was Tashi’s week with Lily, he always somehow found himself ending up coming right back to you. He’d pick you up from your dorm, and you’d spend the entire day with him. On weekends, you ended up in whatever hotel he was staying at, telling your roommate you were going back home for a few days. When you weren’t together, you were constantly texting or calling. He even sent a postcard once when the ATP took him to Europe. It was cheesy, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face all day when you got it in the mail. 

You hadn’t exactly put a label on the relationship, but it was clear to the both of you that you meant more to each other than either of you cared to admit out loud. Quite a bit more, actually.

And Art wasn’t stupid — he knew what your relationship looked like. 

Recently divorced, a younger woman by his side. If they knew, the media would paint him as one of two options: an easily manipulated victim of a gold digger, or a washed up athlete who split with his wife that was now taking what he could get, the younger and prettier the better. 

But that wasn’t it at all for Art.

It wasn’t just sex, or a new pretty face. You were something different. A breath of fresh air. Someone who didn’t care about his career or money or fame. You had no interest in what he could offer you, or what you could get out of him. You never made him feel pressured to do anything or talk about anything he didn’t want to. He’d spent so many years craving a sense of normalcy and peace. Time and time again, he’d wanted to go to Tashi and beg for a break in his routine. But, always too afraid to disappoint her and everyone else watching him, he stayed quiet. He never got a break. As odd as it was to say, that’s what you were to him when he met you — a break. A minute to breathe, a moment to relax. He always felt that way around you.

Simply put, he was head over heels for you. He didn’t think he’d feel like that for another woman after Tashi until he met you, and it shocked him how easily the feeling came to him.

And it wasn’t just him that had fallen. 

You practically hung on every word he said, and soaked up every ounce of praise he gave you. You had never been with someone like him before. Someone so experienced and sure of himself, but just as gentle and patient as he was sure. He made you laugh and smile, and he made you feel safe. For whatever reason he had taken interest in you, you didn’t care, you just didn’t want it to stop. You clung to it, enjoying it while it lasted.

And if either of you had anything to say about it, it would last.

—

By the time you finished explaining your relationship with Art to your roommate, she was already pushing you out the door. 

“Go, go, go,” she squealed, tossing you your keys. “Wait!”

She wrapped her hand around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks as she glanced down at the outfit she chose. “Is that a new dress? Did he buy you a dress? Oh my god, please tell me he has a brother.”

“Not sure,” you grinned, smoothing your hand down your front. “Show up to alumni week next time and find out.”

You were already pressing a kiss to her cheek and rushing down the hall before she could get out another word, giggling as you made your way to the stairs.

On the drive over to the hotel, the nerves in your stomach were making you nervously tap your fingers on the steering wheel. You must’ve got caught by every stop light, making the trip even longer. You were practically vibrating once you finally pulled into the parking lot, grabbing your bag and hurrying inside before your nerves got the better of you and made you stand like an idiot in the lobby, trying to muster up the courage to get in the elevator. You coasted on autopilot as you forced your feet to lead you upstairs to his floor, all the way down to his door. You only came back into your body when you raised a hand to knock on the door, pausing to take a deep breath.

Just knock, you thought to yourself. You’re a big girl. Just knock.

You had barely even knocked twice on the door before the door swung open, and you came face to face with Art. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you took a second to take him in. Still as pretty as you remembered, and every bit as alluring. You could feel yourself melting. 

The feeling was mutual. 

Art let out a sigh of relief, like it was the first good breath he had taken in weeks. A genuine smile crept onto his face as he reached for you, practically making grabby hands like a child. 

“Come here, pretty girl.”

You tried and failed to stifle a giggle, immediately burying yourself in his chest. You let out a hmph as you pressed your cheek against him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You could feel his thumb running along the bare skin of your arm, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He nudged the door closed with his foot, tugging your bag from your shoulder and setting it on the floor without even letting you go. He was warm to the touch, and steady against you. He hummed into your hair, squeezing you tighter.

“There she is,” he murmured, letting out a small laugh. “My girl.”

“Hi, baby,” you giggled, the sound making his heart soar in his chest. 

He slowly walked you backwards to the bed, supporting most of your weight as you laid down. He was quick to follow, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder. His arms hooked lazily around your waist, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

This is what you both had been waiting for. This feeling, this moment. Just this.

“You look very pretty today,” he whispered into your skin, pressing a kiss where his lips rested. “All this for me?”

The humor in his voice made you grin, your fingers running through his hair. “Couldn’t let you be that pretty all by yourself.”

Art smiled, pressing his face further into your neck as he let out a breath. You tightened your grip around him, holding him close. You let your eyes close, resting your cheek against the top of his head. 

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you, as easy as it ever was.

—

A/N - Hi! So sorry this took so long to get out, thank you for your patience. I keep rereading this and editing it over and over, I’m not totally happy with it. But something is better than nothing, and I’m tired of staring at, so here you go! Hope this is ok, let me know what you think :)

[ara-line]

Stop glorifying the suicide of that US airman.

He grew up in a cult and never really left behind the mindset of that cult, even if his beliefs on the political spectrum shifted. According to a former member of the cult, it was common for members to leave and end up in the military. She described it as "going from one high control group to another" in the WaPo article linked.

In short, he never got help that he clearly needed. And from what I've heard about the military, his time in it may have worsened whatever issues he already had.

His suicide is a bigger reflection of this very strange pattern on the left to glorify self harm since others are suffering. It's one thing to see children in a playground and think about how there are children in refugee camps who don't get to enjoy those freedoms. This is another thing. Bushnell, unlike many other cases of self-immolation (ie the self immolation of Mohamed Bouazizi, the man whose death kickstarted the Arab Spring) was not directly affected by the bombings in Gaza. Yet he chose an extreme route that even those affected by the situation, whether through being related to the Israeli hostages or through having family in Gaza, would not go to. This is a reflection of a larger trend on this website of self punishment and forcing every last gory detail of horrific events on yourself because of a) this feeling of powerlessness over not being able to do much about the situation and b) wanting to show how much of a good leftist you are because you will subject yourself to horrific violence to show how much you care. In reality, it is mental self-destruction. I've seen this behaviour in true crime communities as well.

I think a lot of the leftists on this site grew up in conservative environments where it's all or nothing right wing extremism. Thus, much like Bushnell, their political beliefs have shifted, but not their mindset. That's why so many people on this site are glorifying his suicide.

The reason newspaper headlines aren't mentioning his name is because we already know many school shooters do what they do for infamy. Therefore, by not mentioning their names, the media wants to avoid copycats. It's the same line of thinking here. It's got nothing to do with Zionism, according to some people who probably had no idea what that is before Oct 7 and not now, controlling the media. No, Zionists do not control the news cycle. You're perpetuating antisemitism when you say that.

Inevitably, since people on this site have piss on the poor reading comprehension, I expect this post to go over well. If you're going to tell me to kill myself, just know that you will be blocked and reported. Any dialogue ended the moment you decided that was acceptable.

[hussyknee]

(alt included in all images)

Another thread by Senator Ben Ray Luján here.

A book on the subject (haven't read it myself):

One of the sources in another one of Alisa's furiously impassioned twitter threads have been debunked, so I didn't include that. But she claims that her own family was caught in the fallout zone when her mother was a baby, which eventually led to her and large numbers of her community developing cancer. It's human for that kind of grief to be caught up in inaccuracies. People are already being ghastly and racist to Hispanos and Indigenous people criticizing the hype for the movie. They're not attacking Oppenheimer for being Jewish, they're criticising the erasure of the human cost of these bombs and the continued valorisation of the U.S military's actions in World War II as some kind of moral saviourism.

While Oppenheimer himself believed that the nuclear bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were morally justified (they had planned to drop them on Germany except they surrendered before they could), he also felt had blood on his hands and regretted his role as the "Father of the Atomic Bomb". He spent the rest of his career vehemently opposing further development of thermonuclear weapons and the hydrogen bomb accurately predicting the concept of mutually assured destruction. This eventually made him a victim of Senator McCarthy's Red Scare and his clearance was revoked. I haven't seen the movie (Christopher Nolan is the kind of casual white racist I avoid on principle) but people who have seen it say that it doesn't glorify nuclear weapons and depicts the man himself with the complex moral nuance that seems to be accurately reflective of his real life.

The backlash to Indigenous and Hispanos people's criticisms and to people pointing out that Hiroshima and Nagasaki were genocides is also frustrating because...both world wars were a clash of genocidal empires. The reason they were world wars is because the countries colonized by Japan, China, the European powers and the US were all dragged into it, whether they wanted to or not. Jews were one of the many colonized peoples that suffered in that time, who were left to die by everyone until they could be used to frame the Allied powers as moral saviours, establishing a revisionist nostalgia for heroism that powers the US military industrial complex to this day.

As early as May 1942, and again in June, the BBC reported the mass murder of Polish Jews by the Nazis. Although both US President, Franklin Roosevelt, and British Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, warned the Germans that they would be held to account after the war, privately they agreed to prioritise and to turn their attention and efforts to winning the war. Therefore, all pleas to the Allies to destroy the death camp at Auschwitz-Birkenau were ignored. The Allies argued that not only would such an operation shift the focus away from winning the war, but it could provoke even worse treatment of the Jews. In June 1944 the Americans had aerial photographs of the Auschwitz complex. The Allies bombed a nearby factory in August, but the gas chambers, crematoria and train tracks used to transport Jewish civilians to their deaths were not targeted.

(Source)

Uncritical consumption of World War II media is the reinforcement of imperialist propaganda, more so when one group of colonized people is used to silence other colonized peoples. Pitting white Jewry against BIPOC is to do the work of white supremacy for imperialist colonizers, and victimizes Jews of colour twice over.

Edit: friends, there's been some doubt cast on the veracity of Alisa's claims. The human cost to the Hispanos population caught downwind of the nuclear tests is very real, as was land seizure without adequate compensation. However, there's no record I can yet find about Los Alamos killing livestock and Hispanos being forced to work for Los Alamos without PPE. There is a separate issue about human testing in the development of said PPE that's not covered here. I'm turning off reblogs until I can find out more. Meanwhile, here's another more legitimate article you can boost instead:

[singingcicadas]

The beginning of the Decepticons according to Megatron:

The beginning of the Decepticons What Actually Happened:

That it could ever be called a revolution of the oppressed is a joke. Megatron's philosophy is purely pugno ergo sum. I fight, therefore I am. His first recruitment speech was a promise for power, made to the most bloodthirsty audience he could dig up from the dregs of society. Those people were there because they thrived off the bloodsport. They wanted audition to join Megatron in the pits. Megatron offered them something even better: turn the entire planet into our gladiatorial arena, and we take.

Ever since the beginning Megatron viewed the Decepticons as nothing but a tool, to be used and thrown away. He wanted them to be as ruthless as possible in order to wipe out all opposition, but once his end goal's achieved, well, there's no place for ruthlessness in a perfect society under his absolute control. Therefore, remodelling and recreating. It doesn't sound like he wants to rule over actual people with individual personalities, he wants a bunch of mindless drones programmed for obeisance and peace and hardcoded to Do What Megatron Says.

Ravage and Tarn. It's interesting how they both use the word "emancipated" when lauding Megatron's accomplishments, when it's clear that Megatron did so for the practical purpose of bulking up his army. He overthrew those in power because he wanted to be the one in power. The only one. The people he "emancipated" were just exchanging one set of shackles for another, as they had no choice other than to join the Decepticon army. Not fighting was not an option. Cowardice was punishable by traitor's wheel. Going neutral was also not an option. Soundwave had specific anti-neutral pogroms for those.

I wonder if they knew what "the Megatron they loved" had in mind for the Decepticons after they won the war. The remodeling and recreating. Or maybe they thought that's just for the lowly genericons. That they would be exempt from such treatment because they were confident of their privileged places at Megatron's side. After all, if you're rooting for someone whose motto is peace through tyranny, you'd do so with the expectation that it's only Other People who are going to get tyrannized.

It's true that he did rise against an oppressive government, despite it being the goal to replace it with himself as the tyrant.

But he also thought the single admirable quality about Zeta was his ruthlessness. As in trying to kill an entire city of his own people to fuel his vamparc ribbon. And he said that in front of Hot Rod, who was forced to bomb his own city to stop Zeta from winning. Even disregarding the twisted values here, this is still fifteen levels up the insensitivity lane. No wonder Hot Rod didn't want to join up.

Torture's for fun and domination. It takes a special kind of sadistic streak. And this is before the war even officially started.

Thundercracker's view on the Decepticon cause, when he defected to save humans from the nuke:

"Everything we have done here" - Just here? He'd either been living under a rock for the entirety of the war or has some serious misunderstandings about what the Decepticon name is.

Or just been willfully blind for four million years and the deaths of a hundred billion lifeforms until the day he decided to grow a conscience. Same with Soundwave.

Tarn's a really good case study because he's the poster boy of Megatron's Decepticon propaganda. Megatron probably spoonfeeds him the stuff by the gigabytes and he regurgitates them with twice the zeal and tenfold the pretentiousness. He's also the embodiment of the vices and tragedy of the Decepticons as a whole, as created by Megatron. A sadistic hypocrite, a glorified thug, a delusional fanatic, a customized tool for use and dispose. Crippled by the blinkering desire to be superior, to be part of a greater cause.

Megatron cares nothing for Tarn, just like how he cares nothing for the Decepticons. During the war they were a means to an end. After Megatron's defection, their "toxic loyalty" became a personal burden, a blemish from his past that he would like to cast aside and move on from but annoyingly refuse to leave him alone.

The road-sweepers and the haulers. The miners. What were they to Megatron during the war? Disposable cannon fodder. A pretty banner to hide behind. For a movement that likes to justify itself as a revolution of the oppressed, the emancipation of the disenfranchised, there's certainly a distinct lack of those classes among the upper Decepticon ranks. Megatron said in his recruitment speech that he wanted strength and power. Then where did that leave the weak and sick, the empties on the streets?

Nowhere but the smelting pool, to be recycled into something useful for the great Decepticon cause. They should be honoured, really.

Freedom fighters? No, freedom won't be missed. Probably has something to do with the remodelling and recreating part.

Starscream's only partially right. It was absolutely Megatron's intent to tap into that well of rage and resentment, and he meant for the riot to happen. Of course it got away from him in the end - that's what happens when you cobble an army out of bloodthirsty power-hungry degenerates, half of which were on board for the violence, half for their own scheming agendas, and the rest stitched together by charisma and fear - but he'd shaped the events enough to come a hairsbreadth away from winning multiple times. People like Shockwave and Scorponok were treacherous, but they weren't the reason that Megatron lost the war.

It was his own blind arrogance that led to his downfall.

No he didn't lose his way. He's exactly where he set himself out to be, from the moment he gave that speech in the arena. Perhaps even earlier, to that gradual slide when killing his opponent in a match no longer felt like a guilty burden but instead brought him the sweet rush of satisfaction. There was no revolution. There was no righteous cause. There was no for the people and never has been, because he did not care about other people. Four million years and countless deaths, and it was only really about one insanely self-centered person and his deluded ambition of peace through tyranny.

Hence his breakdown, because he'd just been hit in the face with the realization that he was Wrong. And has been wrong for the past four million years. He wasted everyone's lives. He wasted his own life, wasted it on anger and destruction and hatred, with nothing but regrets to show for it.

I believe that Megatron believed he's telling the truth here. I believe that he meant every word he said, except for that one "we" on the second last line.

Because that "we" should really be "me".

The Megatron who wrote about pacifist rhetoric, who was compassionate enough to share his fuel with the injured, who cared about others and had genuine friendships, that Megatron died a long time ago in the pits. Ever since then, every murder, every atrocity he'd committed in the name of "the people" was just facist rationalization.

I'm sure that he likes the sound of "emancipation of the people" or "freedom of choice" as a concept. But when it comes down to individual people? With actual, real choices that conflicts with his desire for absolute rule? Nope. He's the only one who should get to make choices. The only one who should have choices. Because he knows best.

Form dictates your function ❌; Megatron dictates your function ✅

Function dictates your fate ❌; Megatron dictates your fate ✅

Great minds must think alike, because Megatron and the Functionalist council in the Functionalist universe did a lot of the same stuff. Massacring the Senate. Recycling people who are deemed useless burdens. Remodelling and recreating. Imperalism and genociding organics. Killing all dissenters. The Functionalists even got pretty close to Megatron's ideal of peace through tyranny with 99% of the planet fitted with brain bombs and kissing the ground at their feet. They even managed to do it while maintaining a habitable planet and full population. And Megatron took one look and was disgusted.

Megatron wasn't a misunderstood revolutionist who had his heart in the right place when he started his war. The Decepticons didn't start out well-meaning and turned bad somewhere along the way. At no point in their movement were they ever true freedom fighters. They were always Facists, through and through. They were worse than the Functionalists they hated and the Senate they overthrew. And it's important to acknowledge this because (other than it's weird to see such an obvious Facist analogy being associated with freedom fighters) otherwise you don't get the whole depth of Megatron's redemption arc, especially in the Functionalist universe.

Like the impact of this scene wouldn't be fully apparant unless you take into account that when Megatron first formed the Decepticons, all he cared about was their fighting strength. He did not care about his troops, he did not care about individual people. He considered himself above everyone and everything. He would have sneered at such a weak, ineffective form of protest. Now he's actually being supportive and seeing people as people, instead of pawns to be used.

Here he's genuinely happy to see the Decepticons, even those in the very bottom of the pecking order, taking enough care to greet them each by name. And also Fulcrum, who he sentenced to death twice.

For once in his life he's actually trying to do the Right Thing instead of focusing on himself, either on his ambitions or his remorse. The people in the Functionalist universe have nothing to do with him, yet he wants to help anyway. And he's finally appreciating the value of self-determination for what it is, instead of trying to twist it to serve his own purposes or turn it into Megatron-determination.

"No one can decide how you live your life except for you." Back before, he was going to remodel his entire army to achieve his peace through tyranny. Autonomy and free will were considered things that won't be missed.

Megatron learned to care about other people! Peace through empathy is such a groundbreaking step for his character because he used to have no empathy! He stayed true to his ideals for eight centuries despite the hardships, despite his personal losses, despite the AVL being driven to near extinction and not knowing if he would ever return to his own universe. During all those years he could have had ten million chances and excuses to break his vow of pacifism or leave on the Last Light, taking the easy way out, and there would have been no one to stop him.

But he didn’t.

[thesherrinfordfacility]

✨already on the metatron erasure campaign™ let's fucking go✨:

*EDIT, IMPORTANT* I can't believe i even missed this...but metatron is dressed in a dark coat and (iirc) tie

we know from s1 that metatron has very little patience for aziraphale, was pro-armageddon, and at least claimed to be the voice of God (when my man is basically a glorified answerphone)

the half-and-half miracle was conducted on top of the sigil, the transportation circle through which aziraphale dialled 101-metatron in s1, and we know the miracle ended up being Very Powerful

michael doesn't seem to recognise metatron... which is odd as theyre high ranking, uriel and saraqael seem to recognise him, they've definitely met, and michael was shown in the job minisode to have pretty good recollection for job's kids' names - possible memory wipe? saw something they weren't supposed to?

says he has consumed human matter before - why would metatron have been on earth??? and know what to order in a mf café???

speaking of the café, the dialogue, about people asking for death? "No... I don't suppose they do... So predictable."not sure on what this means but 💀 fckin weirdo

refers to muriel as the dim one but still puts her in charge of a heaven sanctuary on earth? as far as we know, the only one? hmmm seems like you want a puppet metty babes

butters up aziraphale with the sweet, cosy coffee - but indicating that he barely knows him at all given that we mainly see aziraphale drinking tea

what he ordered in the café was a small dash of almond syrup, but then describes it to aziraphale as being a hefty jigger of the stuff, indicating something added? wondering if there's further significance to the laudanum poison - an opiate? planning to essentially kidnap aziraphale knowing that crowley won't come looking now?

'hmm it's nice!" "yes I should jolly well hope so" 😁

a veeeeeery faint miracle chime as the coffee is handed over and when aziraphale raises it to his mouth, but hesitates... He asks "shall i...?" And metty goes:

"DRINK IT???😠 of course🙂"

definitely History™ with crowley; crowley readily recognises him after a moment, the look metatron gave him as they left the shop was filthy, and: "ah well! always did want to go his own way... always asking damn fool questions, too!"... like i get metatron is the voice of God, but was it metatron that actually made crowley fall? does metatron have that power, not exclusively god? did metatron say it was on god's orders?

plus - metatron tells aziraphale that he can reverse falling which, to me, seems like a pretty bomb ass power... and a bit OP even for the highest Archangel of heaven, leading me to:

very low, sultry ass voice, maintaining eye contact with aziraphale - all trademarks of hypnotism (temptation?) behaviour? while aziraphale was possibly drugged?

and was the promise of getting crowley restored to heaven actually a bluff, metatron knowing the aziraphale even attempting to broach it with crowley would split them up?

"go tell your friend the good news!!" Said in a voice that makes me think metty knows it's very Bad News Bears

is the whole thing a ploy to split them up? they came together in heaven, and then again on earth; is metatron trying to solve this one by essentially making aziraphale an offer he can't refuse, but that crowley absolutely will?

why choose the lift? why not just power up the circle and go through the sunroof???

and im sorry metatron but you must realise that aziraphale is severely underqualified right💀

[kimakento]

i’m hurting, but that's okay

synopsis: koga yudai was the boy you had loved for long, yet he’s always abusing that love you cultivate for him. you’re hurting, but as long it was for him you were fine. ⌙ 3.4k

pairing(s): rich heir!student!koga yudai x student!fem!reader

genre(s): angst

tags: pyramid game!au, heir!yudai, koga yudai as baek harin’s character, fuma as sung suji’s, yudai is vry glorified from reader’s pov, smoker!yudai, original male character (tomo)

warnings: (TRIGGER WARNINGS) physical and emotional abuse, love bombing, heavy manipulation, gaslighting, possessiveness, implications of unhealthy infatuation (from reader)

author’s note: i’ve been so obsessed with pyramid game lately and couldn’t not write something based on it. i wrote this all in one night surprisingly. this is inspired/based off of the pyramid game, with some references to characters (yudai as harin, fuma as suji) it does not include the actual pyramid game yet, but if this is well received and i make a pt2, i will definitely add it in. feel free to notify me if i have missed any warning(s) on this post.

disclaimer: this is in no way a real life depiction of how koga yudai acts in real life, if you cannot distinguish that i suggest you click off now.

“so?”

yudai’s voice was monotone, almost uninterested; a tone he never used with you. he held a cigarette in between his index and middle finger, and blew a puff of smoke in your face.

as docile and timid as you were, you weren’t flat-out stupid — you could tell he was just using you. but you just liked being near him. and for yudai, he thought you to be akin to an obedient pet, fulfilling his every bidding. doubts filled your mind as you nodded, a while ago he had asked you to steal the answers for the coming exams and like the loyal person you were, you did exactly that.

there was just something adorable about you to him. he liked that you were terrified by him, but also infatuated with him simultaneously.

it was fun, to say the least.

your voice wavered as you brought the bunch of unkept papers from your back and handed it to him, “here, i’ve brought it.”

your class all knew about you and him, they all ridiculed you; belittling you to be a mindless and blindly loyal suck-up to him. as much as you liked yudai, you didn’t think there would come a time when he did like you back.

at once, he snatched the papers from your trembling hands and brought them closer. as yudai squinted his eyes, a vexed expression adorned his face. brows furrowed, the creases in between them instensified; conveying his anger. in a fit, he threw them at your face.

“this isn’t even our class’s exams. how can you expect to be around me when a bitch like you doesn’t know how to read?”

your eyes fell to your worn-out shoes, taking in the scent of his — probably expensive — cologne and the acrid odour of smoke. dropping your knees, you collected the crumpled papers immediately.

watching you at his beck and call was… exhilarating.

koga yudai liked when you were so quiet. he liked it when you heeded to him and only him.

but most of all, he loved possessing this boundless power over you.

and you would do absolutely anything to stay in his grip. he didn’t even have to lift a single finger since you were always so desperate to be near him.

scrambling back to your feet, yudai tutted tauntingly at you. a haunting smirk took to his face.

“i must’ve read it wrong then, i’m really sorry,” it was like reasoning with an iron wall. “i’ll return to the staff room and try to get the actual answers, yudai.”

immediately, his face dropped. throwing his cigarette, he snuffed the flame with his boot while his expression hardened.

“don’t ever call me that again if you know what’s good for you.” an expression of confusion took to your face. “it’s ‘k’ to you.”

you knew you fucked up. k hated when anyone called him ‘yudai’. no one, not even you, knew why.

hanging your head down in shame, you nodded meekly in response.

yudai smiled. that’s how he liked you to be, weak and faithful. he despised change, he also hated when his plans were ruined.

that all changed a few weeks later, when a transfer student joined the school.

murata fuma.

he was nice; a little naive to the happenings of the class 2-5 but still kind nonetheless. soon after, fuma became your seatmate. and both of you hit it off straight away, finding common interests and such. that was why you decided to tell fuma to steer clear of yudai to which he agreed. it wasn’t surprising to see yudai wasn’t a fan of this new friendship that was blooming. it ruined his plans, he wanted needed to isolate you from everyone else.

before this ‘fuma’ arrived, everything was all in place and uniformly at that. you were isolated and at his heed; now, however, you were slowly slipping through his fingers. yudai observed from a distance in the school cafeteria as you chatted excitedly with fuma, a hand on his shoulder.

he’d make note to speak with you about this in due time.

while laughing at whatever fuma said, you received a message from yudai; asking commanding you meet him behind the school.

as you trampled on the crackling gravel lightly, you notice yudai leaning against a discarded, crumbling, wooden table. with another cigarette in hand, he drew you in with a hand motion. to be honest, you were frightened that you had something to upset the boy you publicly yearned for. taking broad steps closer, you now could fully inhale the smell of nicotine. eyes drawn to his hands, you raked your gaze over his skeletal fingers, the ones you wanted to hold so dearly.

fingers gripped your jaw tightly, forcing you to look at him, “look at me.” his voice was firm and strict, like he was training an animal. “i don’t keep you around me to run after other men.”

that’s what you were to him. a faithful and obedient dog.

the cigarette still in his other hand, he gave a sarcastic chuckle.

“i don’t quite understand.” one by one, those fingers retracted.

you had upset him.

“are you fucking stupid or what? get your shit together. i know you told him to stay away from me. did you honestly think i wouldn’t know?” with his towering figure looming over you, he took a step closer; the end of the cigarette an inch from your face. “i think you deserve a little punishment, don’t you?”

smoke wafted around the koga heir, concealing his knowing smirk. “give me your hand.”

he put his hand out towards you, nodding for you to put your smaller hand in his. when you didn’t, with an overpowering amount of strength, he yanked your wrist. his nails dug into your arms as you grimaced, knowing what’s to come. the heat of the cigarette hovered around as yudai lowered it to come in contact with the skin of your palm.

the odour of burning flesh invaded your senses and you let out a yelp, retracting your hand away. tears welled up in your eyes as you gazed down at your burn. those same tears fell down to your chin as you looked up in disbelief.

yet you never uttered a word in retaliation. you could never.

“i-i won’t do it again, please.” yudai had never been this upset with you, and you hated it. you’d never been on the receiving side of his unfiltered wrath, usually observing those that had been unlucky to have been.

“if i see you so much as look at that bitch of a transfer student,” the name ‘fuma’ left a bitter taste in his mouth, even refusing to utter it. “expect much worser than this. and you know i never take shit like this lightly.”

he added one last part, “remember this. you don’t want to upset me again.”

again, you nodded; not wanting to even imagine yudai frowning in your direction. a lighthearted smile replaced his previous vexed expression. his plan of isolating you was again reinstated. you were his puppet, as always.

“now, you know i don’t like doing this to you.” your eyes perked up hearing the surprising statement from him. heat rushed to your cheeks as you avoided his gaze.

the right words always at the right time, he knew how to get you to stay in his grasp.

you asked him a simple question, “you don’t?”

and with that, yudai nodded his head and moved a strand of hair out of your eyes. a look of ‘worry’ took over his features as he stared at the purple-brownish burn on your skin. somewhere inside him, a burst of exhilaration ensued at seeing you like this. it was addictive; you still being the follower you always were even after being treated like dirt.

yudai liked that about you, this was your normal.

rough hands wrapped around the wrist of your palm that was hurt and spoke softly, “let’s get you patched up, hm?”

you were hurting, but that was okay. it was all for yudai.

after that day, you swore to keep away from fuma. that included avoiding him when he tried to speak with you at any point of the school day to even blocking his number on your phone. you weren’t necessarily scared of what yudai could do to you (you were to an extent), but you were scared what he’d do to others, especially fuma.

everyone in class school knew koga yudai came from old money, rumour had it that his parents were afraid of him. something to do with him being a ‘psychopath’, you obviously did not believe that though. the boy you were so hopelessly in love with was definitely not a psychopath.

yudai was always so protective of you and cared for you.

all your classmates avoided affiliating with the dangerous heir, terrified of his influence socially as well as economically; even his control over the school system. he would be able to arrange an expulsion for any that happened to be unfortunate get on his bad side.

however for you, that was not the case; yudai had immediately taken a liking to you. you still remembered when you first joined the school.

at first, yudai was intrigued by you. this came as a shock to him, he’d never been this interested in a classmate before, let alone a transfer student? it was your quiet and timid nature, but the fact you still had a presence in the class. ‘oh he had to have you’, he first thought. a plaything like you would perfectly complete his play set, he even thought it to be a bonus that you were seemingly infatuated with him. to him, people were like chess pieces and life was a chess board; you were only a pawn in his game — an easily discardable one at that.

he still remembered when you stumbled over your words whenever you spoke to him; also that he thought it to be sickeningly adorable.

yudai loved playing with people, especially those who were naive.

when in front of you, he put up a front; a kind-hearted, friendly and helpful facade that drew you in quickly.

amongst your first days, you had decided on studying in the library. observing your classmates whispering secretly, you unconsciously started listening in.

“i hate kei, he’s so stuck up. he deserves what’s coming to him.” one boy — you think was called tomo — said.

“he’s a borderline psychopath, remember what he did to fuji?” his friend, a girl, included. the conversation came to a hush as they realised you were present and able to hear.

“fuck, you’d better not open that mouth.” tomo interrupted with a glare in your direction.

gathering your belongings in one arm, you nodded, and got the hell out of there. during your alone time walking down the halls, you were contemplating on if you should tell yudai. that was until you had collided into someone and almost tripped over had they not wrapped an arm tightly around your waist. your gaze raked along their body until you recognised it to be the boy you were just thinking about.

a warm feeling of admiration coursed through your being.

noticing the worried expression on your face, he pulled you to an empty staircase. the smell of nicotine lingered around in the atmosphere faintly only masked by heavy amounts of expensive cologne. you were confused where the stench came from as you knew yudai didn’t smoke.

the smell made you faint-headed as it didn’t take long of you watching his pretty face to put you under a trance. it was so strong it had stuck to your blazer.

“is something wrong? you look out of it. a little worried perhaps?” his tone was laced with a hint of concern. he put a hand on your shoulder, snapping you back to reality and compelling you to look at him. “you can tell me. i’m here for you.”

a gentle touch, a caring tone, a concerned look all seemed to keep you from communicating back coherently.

should i? you contemplated inside your head, shutting your eyes and tuning the world out. it’s none of my business. but they seemed like they wanted to hurt kei.

koga yudai’s smile was gentle and radiated a disposition of kindness. your heart leaped at his lingering words and you lowered your voice.

“uhm… it’s about some of our classmates,” you whisper as an eyebrow raised on his pretty face. “tomo? i think he’s trying to, uh, hurt you.”

a shiver ran through your body at the thought of anyone laying a finger on the boy in front of you.

you waited for yudai’s expression to shift into worry — for him to react like normal person. but instead, he laughed in your face. you furrowed your eyebrows at his peculiar antics.

“let me guess, he said i was a psycho or something?” a snicker left his mouth again.

at once, you nodded.

he replied with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “don’t worry your pretty little head about that. i’ll deal with him. thanks for telling me.”

once again, your stomach leaped at his words; he always knew exactly what to say to keep you in his trance.

the phrase ‘i’ll deal with him’ kind of stuck with you.

only to be remembered the next day when you observed the same boy, tomo, entering the school gates with green-blueish bruises painting his face and a busted lip. it didn’t help that tomo kept returning his gaze to yudai and that the koga heir’s fists were covered with bandaids. yudai skipped happily towards you, an arm locked around your shoulder.

“you’re being cute again today.” he whispered to you.

the dots had all seemed to connect, but it was too late; you were already caught up in his spell.

since then, he started smoking around you more. you always caught him with a cigarette in hand and wafts of smoke dancing around him. at first when you saw him smoking carelessly, you had accidentally inhaled the smoke and started coughing violently.

yudai couldn’t contain the smile that threatened to make its way to his face. he loved seeing you in pain, it made him giddy. without delay, tears threatened to fall from your eyes and eventually did. the index finger of his free hand grazed your cheek softly, collecting that tear and wiping it away.

“you look better when you’re crying for me, hmm?” with a sigh of satisfaction, he took another puff and blew it at your face.

this time, you inhaled the smoke, biting back the reflex to cough. that had brought a smile to the man’s face.

meanwhile, murata fuma had tried his best to look out for you after noticing the predicament you were in with the heir that possessed psychopathic tendencies. there wasn’t much he could do after you avoided him and blocked his number. he had to work fast and work now.

so he took the chance; you walked alone in the empty hallway, earbuds in your ear and humming along to some music. you were looking around for yudai, wanting to show him a new artist you had discovered. that was until you were pulled inside a spare classroom by strong hands.

“what the hell— fuma?!” you yelped as you recognised the boy. “no, no, no. i can’t be here with you.” worry creased your face.

confusion laced fuma’s features, prompting you to continue your blabbering.

“if he sees me here with you, we’re both done for. please, i need to go.” as you turned to leave, you felt his hand wrap around your wrist. his gaze swept along the burns that littered along your skin and raised his eyebrows.

“go back? to him? he’s a fucking psycho. that…” a finger grazes one burn softly. “is not someone to return to.”

you were so tired of everyone dictating your life, you shrugged him off angrily. “you don’t know me or yudai. stay out of this, murata.”

and with that, you stormed off. muttering all sorts of curses, you decided to report to yudai himself.

dull sparkles seemed to settle in his eyes as you informed him of the happenings amidst your fellow classmates. your thoughts ran wild; remind you of what you refused to tell the heir in hopes of keeping your dignity. your classmates had asked you to help them bring down the boy and strip him of his power. obviously you had refused, but you couldn’t deny that you were tired of the games he played with you and others.

“they ambushed me randomly. i left before they could tell me anything though.”

you did well, right? you knew he’d be proud of you, yet an unsettling feeling churned in your stomach; plain fear quite literally manifesting inside your body.

a hum of understanding resonated from him, “why do i have a feeling you’re lying to me, pretty?”

the koga heir loved when you heeded his command, but loathed when you’d lie to him.

a liar was one thing he’d not tolerate. and you knew that.

in all his beauty, you observed as he walked towards you, his hazel eyes staring at the burn marks that decorated your palms — it was a reminder of your undying loyalty to him. a reminder of your love for him… that he would never reciprocate.

koga yudai didn’t know how to love, he never wanted to learn either. yet he knew enough about how to manipulate the love others had for him. now, he slinked back and admired his work.

“did those fools mention anything else?”

“no.” another lie.

genuine fear laced with obedience conveyed through your body language. now was not the time to be nervous. you watched as his brown locks ruffled when the wind blew.

yudai always made sure to wear his signature cologne around you. you were obsessed with the smell and it always seemed like you paid more attention to him when he wore it. the boy would also noticed that you would stare at his lips every time he parted them to speak and found that hilarious.

he liked the way your eyes would dart around nervously after before settling on your shoes. the way your cheeks heated up; it delighted him to know that you weren’t planning on leaving anytime soon.

his favourite puppet. sitting prettily for him, responsive and loyal.

sending you on mindless and endless errands was his favourite pastime.

something inside him told him you were a person who liked to feel needed, so he put you to use. as always, you were there to give him a good and proper laugh. who’d need entertainment when he had you, figuratively and comically chasing your own tail. always beaming, you’d return with whatever he told you to, over the moon that you could be of service to him and only him.

it wasn’t like you were any wiser, currently on your way to buy coffee for yudai (or as per his command for some girl from class 2-4 he had been speaking to for a while). as much as it pained you that he had another person he was close to, you did what you could.

cautiously balancing the coffee, you walked towards the table they were at and noticed yudai’s hand was on the girl’s thigh. forcing a smile on your face, you placed — more like slammed — the tray down onto the table and stormed off. the smile on the boy’s face only grew wider at your visible discontent.

this was something he had to do.

to yudai, you looked a bit too satisfied with your position around him, he had to remind you of your designated place in his school.

he followed you to your empty form room and grabbed your wrist, “what’s wrong?”

you took your hand back as you replied, “it’s that girl. why do you hang around her when you have me? am i not enough?” jealousy coursed through your veins.

“i always do exactly what you tell me to.” you take his hand in yours and prompt him to meet your awaiting gaze. “please, look at me and only me. and i’ll do anything you want me to.”

inside him, the wealthy heir couldn’t contain his excitement. this was exactly what he needed; he enjoyed this push and pull game.

“you’re amusing.” perplexity laced your eyes as he spoke. “i like you.”

and yudai always came out on top.

[rubra-wav]

Why So Blue? Vox x Reader

[ Part 2 - Never Gonna Give It Up ]

A/N Listen man, I don't know jackshit about code or hacking, and that's probably gonna become glaringly obvious throughout this fic 💀

Cw: SFW, gn!reader, intimidation and manipulation, slight mention of blood.

<< [ Part 1 ]

A month went by since the attack on his social media and hijacking of his camera systems had taken place.

The paranoid anticipation of a second attack was deeply present to Vox, but it faded at about the 2 week mark.

Surely, whatever imperfections there were had been mended! Someone would be thrown on the chopping block if not.

All his employees were on edge and were eager not to irritate him even a little bit after last time. Even more than usual. It was excellent to the TV demon, stroking his sadistic power complex even more than it already was.

Every blow done to his ego with the Sinstagram hacking had fallen away, and he was once again power tripping on everything around him. As expected, the home surveillance systems had made him a killing, and he could see places he'd never been able to make it to now.

All of these things put him in a rare string of a genuinely good mood. Everything seemed to be working out.

On the other hand, you worked hard on your next attack that'd far solidify your threat to him, that's for damn sure.

You'd given it a few weeks before you began to really step into your next plot, wanted to lure him into a false sense of security so he'd fall harder off his high horse.

You laid on your stomach in the middle of your living room surrounded by your collection of monitors, clicking away with one hand and typing code out with the other.

The next stage of you trolling him was just gonna be meme material alongside establishing your persona to properly establish your presence in hell.

The more serious pranks up your sleeve would be showing up later down the line. For now, you were just playing games with him for entertainment.

You were barely able to leave home nowadays, opting to befriending people or talking to those you knew before becoming a recluse online.

One of these friends of yours being a certain inventor who ironically very much wanted to be positively noticed by the object of your somewhat despise.

At first, it was because you took pity upon Sir Pentious, having helped to patch him up after he (literally) exploded through the wall of your apartment, however, you came to enjoy his presence.

He was power-hungry, of course. However, he also just wasn't much of a threat at all. He wasn't charming or manipulative - god, was he an awful liar - just good with making things. Pen was a glorified, awkward, and overly goofy fanboy more than anything.

You kept trying to encourage him to work on a business of his own rather than just trying displays of power against Cherri Bomb for the sake of trying to get attention from the Vees, but he just wouldn't listen.

The sound of you receiving a notification from said inventor snapped you out of spacing out at your reflection in the monitor in front of you.

I got the codes you asked for, (Name). 🫡

*Pen included attachments*

Do be careful with these, though. I had to talk to one of my acquaintances in league with lady Velvette's people for these, and they said that it seemed like bad news to have these on you!

Just what are you planning on using them for?

You hummed as you looked at the codes sent, thinking of how you would answer exactly, your eyes wandering absentmindedly to the slightly peeling painting of tree branches on the wall you had done many years ago at this point.

Your eyes snapped back to your monitor as you typed back simply.

Thank you very much! 🧡

And let's just say... tomfoolery.

....

Should I be worried?

You snorted.

Probablyyyyyy~~~

You laughed at the barrage of texts with extremely poor spelling sent to you one after the other half jokingly fretting about you. In the beginning, it was genuine panic from him, but he'd come to know you were smart enough to not kill yourself via being a menace.

Chill out, MUM. I'll be good.

I mean, you most assuredly wouldn't be good, but he didn't need to know that.

You weren't exactly going to reveal you were the one harassing Vox to anyone, even if you were friends. Doing so would be endangering you but also them as well.

You logged the access codes you had gotten from Pentious - ones you couldn't attain normally because they were physically kept in real life - humming and kicking your legs as you cleaned the attack up to make sure there wasn't some missed quotation or something which would fuck the whole thing up.

As you worked hard, a certain someone was about to wake up to the cemented vision of the series of unfortunate events you had in store for him.

-

This time, Vox woke up in a very unconventional way unlike the prior attack.

One of his main maintenance team members booted him up before his scheduled time.

He looked at the employee with confusion, which quickly turned to anger as he realised that this asshole had intruded into his sleeping quarters, he was very confident, without permission.

The embarrassment about his sleep attire of course underlying. It was hardly the same impression as what he wished to show to the world.

He instantly went to start yelling at the obviously shit scared man in front of him, but he was stopped short as he heard familiar lyrics that didn't yet fully register for him.

"What. What the fuck is that?" He asked, Vox looked at the employee who seemed to be grappling to try and explain.

"We're.. o.. angers.. o love.. u.. ow the rules, and...o do I!"

Vox's eyebrow furrowed in disbelief, mouth parting as he fought to comprehend what was going on, straining to hear what the song was.

"A.. ull.. commitments.. -at.. m.. inking of. O.. ouldn't get this.. om any other.. uy."

Seeing as the employee was useless next to him, Vox got out of bed and quickly raced to his bedroom window, ripping the blinds apart and opening the window.

"I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling, gotta make you understand."

Vox looked absolutely dumbfounded out at the scene of hell before him as his still tired brain fully comprehended what he was hearing and seeing.

"Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down. Never gonna run around and desert you!"

Who in the fuck was rickrolling hell.

It was on every single billboard and screen that Vox could see out the window of the tall building he lived in, the image of Rick Astley singing 'Never Gonna Give You Up' with a small message Vox could barely make out at the bottom of the faraway billboard.

"S-sir, it's been playing since 6am, we haven't been able to turn it off! It's everywhere! This hacker- 'U' they call themselves, its the same person as last time it seems!" The frightened employee standing behind the hunched over and now trembling figure of Vox finally found his voice.

Vox let out a cold bark of laughter, slamming his hands against the windowsill as he jerkily moved to face the employee. "What the fuck," Vox began to approach the young man, him shrinking back from the clearly furious overlord. "Do you mean that this has been p-p-playing," Vox glitched as he gripped both hands on the techie's shoulders. "Since 6 in the fucking morning!" He yelled.

His claws dug into his shoulders hard. He was about to go fully apeshit, but the sane part of his brain won over that at the last second.

This was not one of his lowest earners, and he had far more pressing things to do then prey on the refuse lest his image be messed up any more then it already had.

He stiffly unhanded the employee, eyes admiring the way blood had started beading where his claws had dug in before taking a deep breath, composing himself and then forcing a strained smile.

"My apologies," a lie, of course. "I will deal with this accordingly myself since it seems like you and your team are un-a-able to yourselves." He spat the last part out, before striding out of his bedroom with one last 'get out.' directed at the employee shaking like a leaf in a strong breeze.

It was all over the internet and Vox knew he had no chance of dealing away with it like last time.

He could do away with a stupid Sinstagram post pretty easily. It was moreso from one source - the branches from that easily clipped and made to be forgotten about nearly completely with a carefully placed broadcast that was succinct and to the point with his hypnosis ability, and constant content moderation.

This though was a completely different story.

Even after kicking you from his system (he hoped), he found himself unable to even begin to try moderate everything as he did last time. He couldn't escape 'U' becoming a viral meme overnight.

Someone with obviously incredible hacking skills using said skills not to attack or harm Vox or anyone, but to instead Rick Roll the entirety of hell?

Vox became a victim of the meme culture him and Velvette had cultivated to keep eyes on them, and he hated it.

He was terrified, which of course manifested as red hot anger. Anger which grew even worse as something was discovered the afternoon of him finally managing to remove the video loop being broadcasted.

An account on one of the many social media applications he owned. An account he somehow couldn't touch with one single post going absolutely viral - the same as the text that was displayed across the bottom of video you had infected all of his screens with which he couldn't quite see from out of his window the prior morning.

'Never gonna give it up, never gonna let you go. Never gonna let you run away and avoid me~ - U'

If anyone wants to be added to a taglist for when I update this fic lmk - I was unsure if the people I @ last time still wanted to be (sorry)

[ Why So Blue masterlist ]

[yuri-is-online]

This might just me being tired and dumb, but I kind of get how Ace having a more supportive family would lead to isolation? Like. People who have no family to rely on form their own, and that kind of bond can be beat by very little else. There's not only possibly shared trauma, but there's probably also a shared understanding that "we all we got". It gives a weird sense of hope to see someone else in your situation, someone who relates to you even a little bit, and you want more anything in the world for them to make it out and thrive, and you can trust that they want the same for you.

So with Ace, who's trauma (that we know about) mainly comes from association and the iverblot fights, it's a bit harder to make that bond. He (assumably) got all the love and support that he was supposed to get from his family. And yeah! Sure! He can still seek it out elsewhere! But it's a thing he already has, he already has somewhere to go at the end if the day for comfort.

This is actually a theme that I'm gonna play with in my 80s fic, Deuce is lower middle class, while Yuu is just a slightly glorified version if homeless. Ace is squarely middle class, if not upper middle, he never has to really want for anything. Not like Deuce and certainly not like Yuu.

Learning how to pinch for pennies and find deals are things that makes Aces life more convenient, but it's something that Deuce and Yuu need. And that's where the divide is.

He wants to take care of his friends (he's still in denial) more than anything, but he also feels like there's this weird line he can't cross, with him on one side and Yuu and Deuce on the other. It honestly doesn't help that Yuu has a separate, small friend group outside of him and Deuce that are all in the same "Shit is completely fucked right now but by God are we gonna make it out" boat. A boat that Ace will probably never be in. Ace loves his family and is grateful, and knows exactly how much he lucked out. But he still wants to have that bond. That "the world feels like it's ending but atleast we'll be going down together" type of bond. Comforting Yuu while they cry about not having heating in the winter will never be the same as having to suffer alongside them and know they were in this together. Trying to find the cheapest possible version of a food products with Deuce and discovering knock off brands that Ace would never imagine existing (who the hell made knock off cheerios?) Will never be the same as actually having to rely on those knock off and part time sales, and feeling a sense pride that they were able to save enough money this month that they could actually buy something nice. Ace probably won't ever be on that side of the invisible line.

He'll bring them to his side though. Ace wants to take care of them more than anything. He wants them in his life more than anything. And he'll have them. No matter what he has to do to make that happen.

Sorry if I missread your post and just dropped a huge angst bomb in your inbox! I just have thoughts and there are a lot of AceYuu and ADeuce moments in chapter three and one or two of them digs into this a little.

You didn't misread my post at all I swear we are sharing custody of a braincell because this is just *chef's kiss* exactly what I was thinking.

Having that solid middle class stability and parent's who genuinely love you and each other is nothing to be ashamed of, not that I think Ace has enough humility for that, but it does mean that he has a gap in his understanding for Deuce and especially Yuu's situation. I keep thinking about how he ended up eating those tarts because he skipped a meal over worrying about Yuu and their circumstances, he cares. He is crass and rude with it but he cares! I love how you say he'll bring them to his side of the line, that's exactly how I see him thinking about it.

Ace's isolation (in my view) seems to come from how much more he values his friendship with Yuu and Deuce over literally anyone else in the school. He'd benefit from talking to Jack and Epel more, they also have solid home lives and Jack at least I think has financially stable parents, but those guys aren't his people. For better or worse, for sickness or health, Yuu and Deuce are who he is sticking it out with. He'll never say it in game, but he really does love you both, in what way is of course up to the interpretation of the player.

but you know which one we both prefer frfr

[livwritesstuff]

Mid-bath, I realised that Eddie and Steve had daughters during Lush’s peak popularity with the bathbombs and bubble bars, the themed releases (especially for Halloween). How did that go?

omg as a mid-2010s adolescent who *loved* watching lush hauls (Zoella's specifically and that's someone I hadn't thought about in a bazillion years), I cannot believe I didn't think of this sooner

Okay, but I see your Lush, and I raise you this:

The mall closest to their town in Massachusetts (the epic Natick Mall for any fellow New Englanders) just so happens to separate the Lush and the Bath and Body Works by just two (2) stores.

Add a Yankee Candle to that shit and you’ve got a brand new circle of hell – that’s Eddie’s opinion anyways, and he’d be the one to know given how Steve pulls the migraine card every time the girls lobby for a trip to the mall.

Like most adolescent girls in the mid-2010s, Moe, Robbie, and Hazel love Lush and they love Bath and Body works, so it’s a given that they’ll be building time for both into their mall adventure.

For Eddie, it’s his least favorite part of an already not-so-enjoyable experience, because, yeah, one of those bath bombs or whatever might smell nice on its own, but a hundred thousand of the fuckers crammed into a store with less square footage than the entryway of his and Steve’s house…that’s gotta be some form of prison torture (and if it’s not, it should be).

Eventually, Eddie just sets them loose for that portion of their shopping trip, which Steve might not necessarily approve of (but what Steve doesn’t know can’t hurt him, and those two stores back to back definitely would hurt Eddie).

“Do not lose Hazel,” he tells Robbie and Moe, deadly serious even though Hazel is almost ten and the risk of losing her in a real way is getting slimmer and slimmer, “If you are not walking into the bookstore in exactly thirty minutes, I will send a mall cop in to bring you to me the long way. Through the food court where all the kids from your school will be. Capiche?”

The system works – the girls get to spend their dads’ money on over-scented garbage and Eddie gets to retain his sense of smell and his sanity – but it’s only half the battle. The second half takes place at home, in the upstairs bathroom that all three girls share.

“Hazel!,” they hear Moe yell, “That one was mine!”

Steve shoots Eddie a look, as if to say that’s all you, man.

“C’mon, Stevie,” he protests, “I broke up the last one about the stupid hand sanitizers.”

“Nope. You facilitated buying them that shit. You can deal with it.”

Right on cue, they hear Hazel upstairs start to cry. Eddie groans, gets to his feet, and heads upstairs.

Indeed, Hazel is sobbing, because she almost always is these days (Steve and Eddie secretly joke that she’d never cried as a baby because she was stock-piling it all for her elementary-school days), and wrapped in an elephant towel (there’s a hood with ears and everything; it’s very cute). Moe is holding a half-dissolved bath bomb that she’d clearly just fished out of the bathtub and wearing an unreasonably irate expression for what is ultimately just a glorified ball of baking soda and citric acid (Eddie looked it up).

“Dad – Hazel’s using my bath bomb.”

“It’s not yours!” Hazel hiccups.

Eddie squints at the deformed mess fizzing in Moe’s hand.

“I gotta side with Hazy here, Moe. I mean – c’mon. Did you actually want a Santa Claus-shaped bath bomb? Really?”

“Yeah,” she insists, “It’s limited edition, Dad. For the holiday collection.”

Eddie lets out a long sigh.

“Okay,” he says, “You guys are keeping this shit in your own rooms. Starting now.”

[sakebytheriver]

I don't really know what to say about Oppenheimer and Christopher Nolan's newest glorification of white violence, I truly don't have a strong opinion either way nor do I have much to say on the film other than I hope the movie itself is less about glorifying Oppenheimer as some American folk hero and more about the massacre and devestation caused by the bombs

And on a personal note, the Japanese side of my family literally came from a suburb of Hiroshima. Of course, my great grandfather left Hiroshima with his brother long before WWII started and he settled in Hawai'i while his brother settled in Salinas Valley CA, when the war broke out the Salinas Valley branch of our family was all sent to the internment camps and two of my great uncles who left Hawai'i for the mainland were also interned along with their spouses and children, the only reason my grandmother and her family weren't interned is because there were just too many Japanese in Hawai'i to intern them, they were 60% of the population, interning Hawaiian Japanese would have meant capsizing Hawai'i's economy, (it didn't stop them from making a few internment camps for influential Japanese community leaders in Hawai'i though). Before the bombs were dropped, a distant relative of mine, a second cousin twice removed or something like that, went back to Japan, they went back to Hiroshima, back to where my family first came from. They went home to family

And then the bombs dropped.

And for months upon months, my family thought they were dead. They were finally able to contact our family and say they were still alive. They got lucky and didn't die in the bombing, but their story is an outlier, and my family got really really lucky in that regard. Of course, I have no idea about the family we still had in Hiroshima before my great grandfather left, but there's no doubt in my mind that I lost family when those bombs dropped, there's no doubt in my mind that a piece of my family history was destroyed, there is not doubt in my mind that there is forever an indelible mark on my family for the rest of time all because the US wanted to test out their fancy new toy that they made their pet scientist Oppenheimer build

I don't care about Oppenheimer, I care about the family I will never get to know

[a-halo-for-you]

Grishaverse Tribute

I'm pissed. I'm vengeful. I'm going to march on Netflix.

The cancellation is uncalled for, now all we will see in return for the snubbing of one of the best series on Netflix, with one of the best fandoms, cast and creators another stupid documentary glorifying a serial killer, another shitty teen show with no plot but plenty of sex (because sexualizing children will be something they always get away with), and another over-marketed pointless action film with some former boxer or wrestler leading it who can't really act more than one type of nice-buff guy.

In my mournful and restless vengeful spirit, I have come up with another playlist dedicated to the Grishaverse, the fans, the cast and Leigh Bardugo. This breaks their hearts so much because we know how excited and passionate they were about telling this story, and to think now so many won't be able to go on and live their beloved characters through to the end. I can't stand it.

"None of this had been fated; none of it foretold. There had been no prophecies of a demon king or a dragon queen, a one-eyed Tailor, Heartrender twins. They were just the people who had shown up and managed to survive. But maybe that was the trick of it: to survive, to dare to stay alive, to forge your own hope when all hope had run out. For the survivors then, Zoya whispered to herself as the people before her knelt and chanted her name. And for the lost." - Leigh Bardugo, Rule of Wolves

I got to dream through them, Shadow and Bone saved my Covid years, when I was alone in a dorm learning online, unable to be with anyone else, with no friends and no family. I had little to no confidence and was stuck in a place that scared me. But then I had Shadow and Bone, I had these amazing characters and when I dove into the books, I found so much more. (A found family is my favourite literary trope for a reason.)

“Kaz leaned back. "What's the easiest way to steal a man's wallet?" "Knife to the throat?" asked Inej. "Gun to the back?" said Jesper. "Poison in his cup?" suggested Nina. "You're all horrible," said Matthias." - Leigh Barugo, Six of Crows

This is a playlist for all of us who are mourning and for all of us willing to fight on. I've seen petitions already posted on change.org, lets sign them all, share them all and try our best to change this while we can. Warrior Nun got their season 3. Who says we can't? Who says we shouldn't? Brick by Brick we will build our season 3, or we'll go down trying.

“Have any of you wondered what I did with all the cash Pekka Rollins gave us?" "Guns?" asked Jesper. "Ships?" queried Inej. "Bombs?" suggested Wylan. "Political bribes?" offered Nina. They all looked at Matthias. "This is where you tell us how awful we are," she whispered.” - Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

Pardon the ecclectic taste of this long playlist, but there are so many types of song that I feel fit the plot, the charcaters and themes as well as their relationships to each other. This has sparked inspiration in me to create more playlists catering to the Grishaverse and I'll do that alongside my usual playlist posts.

I would also like to say that this playlist isn't just mine, it's for everyone and I would love for any fans of the show or books to let me know if they have any songs that they love to be added to the playlist and I will do so.

There are over 60 songs on this playlist, so I'm not going to write them all here for obvious reasons, I hope none of you mind that.

For our founding mother Leigh Bardugo. For the Six of Crows; Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, Nina Zenik, Matthias Helvar. For our S+B crew; Alina Starkov, Malyen Oretsev, The Darkling, Baghra Morotzova, Nikolai Lantsov, Zoya Nazyalensky, Genya Safin, David Kostyk, Tolya Yul-Bataar, Tamar Kir- Bataar, Nadia and Adrik Zhabin.

Let the revival of Season 3 be our final grand mission.

Lets stream the show, post more art, more fanfics, more posts, more petitions. Let's fight for what we can.

No Mourners, No Funerals.

'Yuyey sesh'

'Ni weh sesh'

[wordy-little-witch]

From this post

Tldr: transfemme buggy and the quaking of the seas

I have an absolutely unhealthy obsession with fantasy science. I have an unhealthy obsession for one piece. Mix em together and you get this:

Devil Fruits are so freaking weird man. They are supernatural, by common story telling throughout the series, and then you find out they can be replicated through science. You can make whole ass test tube babies with those powers by mixing source DNA and Lunarian DNA. The accessibility to research on Devil Fruits is lacking, and I do whole heartedly believe that's due to the world government. But we DO know some specific things.

Zoans, Logias and Paramecias are the three categories, then they have sub categories. Zoans can awaken. But can Logias? Can Paramecias? Are some Devil Fruits mislabeled due to lack of research or misinformation? It's basically highly unusual biochemistry.

I already believe whole heartedly that Buggy has some knowledge of medicine - she's not a doctor by any means, but she knows enough to take care of some simple to moderate concerns. Nurse practitioner, basically.

I feel like Buggy, no longer drowning the drsphoria-she-didn't-realize-she-had, would be open to exploring the world and being as curious and fascinated as she damn well pleases.

It starts, as many things do in her life, with something learned from or about a certain man in a straw hat. First Roger, then Shanks, now Luffy - strawhatted monsters plague her life. But this monster has done something even Roger and Shanks deemed dangerous - he mad her curious.

The tales of what happened in Wano spread like wildfire. The Strawhats learn about Cross Guild. Cross Guild learns about them not too long after. And Buggy pauses when Crocodile laughs his distinctive way as he reads a passage from the article in the news.

Paramecias do not allow for transformation. She knows this. She researched Devil Fruits near obsessively after the Pineapple Incident to cope with the new fear and then a genuine fascination. She has read damn near every available document on Devil Fruits in the Cardinal Seas and Grandline. She knows about Devil Fruits.

Luffy's Devil Fruit turns everyone on its head. A normal person might chalk it up to him being a D, might say that that little spitfire doesn't follow logic in any capacity; Buggy knows better.

Buggy knows because she is a D herself, something she only recently announced, by blood and bond both. Buggy knows Luffy is not an idiot, that he does follow his own logic, and she knows that that has nothing to do with his personal logic.

Buggy knows this, and Buggy knows Devil Fruits, and now Buggy is Thinking.

She quickly comes to a few hypotheses.

1) Luffy's Devil Fruit is either not a paramecia at all, which would mean the information available has been altered, changed or purposefully misrepresented.

2) The study on Devil Fruits only goes so far - she knows this specially to be true, given how she herself had so many questions that have yet to be answered regarding the topic. If that is the case, Luffy may well have simply harnessed an otherwise unaddressed or undiscovered aspect of his Fruit specifically or Fruits in general.

2B) if Luffy's Devil Fruit can change his surroundings, can Awaken like a Zoan, then could any Fruit do that? Could Logias? Could all Paramecias? Could hers-?

And she stops.

Buggy's got a history of pyromania, bordering on terrorism ((and she'll argue those semantics another time, the WG is so annoying-)). She loves a good bomb, a good explosion, she adores making her bombs and updating weapons and studying chemistry.

She also was a Warlord, brief as it was, and absolutely snooped around the marine headquarters. The schematics and information on their infamous Buster Calls was sparse, she'd give them that, but it only took her three meetings to get a good grasp on it all. The concept was good, she'd admit that, but it was wild, untamed, unrefined. It was simply a glorified firework meets cannon ball meets biochemical warfare.

But it had given her Ideas.

Marines do their schematics so oddly, but she could appreciate a change in perspective, especially when it also inspired her.

Explosions are chemicals, are catalysts, are combustion - and combustion is fission, is fusion, is expansive.

If she could find a way to cause the fission and fusion on her specific terms, could isolate, map, and replicate the event on command, it could revolutionize everything.

She's had the thought in mind for a while prior to this, but the revelation regarding Luffy, Devil Fruits and the woeful lack of research and study there leaves her with a fire in her best.

Especially since Buggy D Clown, Emperor and Captain and Chairwoman, has the Chop Chop Fruit.

She can split and reassemble at will.

She can control the fissures and fusions of her body.

How deep, how small, can that control go? Is there a set area around her? It works on her clothes. Why does it work on her clothes? Is there a range already? Can she control it? Can she expand it?

Can she impose it on other things?

Could Buggy actually make a seas damned mega bomb with her Devil Fruit?

That doesn't even begin on her endless thoughts on others. Does Alvida have a range? Can she impose her ability elsewhere? It supposedly worked on her weight, but that's not friction - what's up with that? Is it internal? Would blunt force trauma hurt her? Could blades? If it slips OFF, could things slip THROUGH?

And Galdino, his abilities are incredible. But it's a Paramecia, isn't it? Why isn't it a Logia? Is it because of the nature of the substance? He's a 'human candle' as he so aptly put it, but what's the limit? What's the capacity? What does that mean?

On that front, what about Crocodile? Sand is a nifty power, yes, but rather limited on the open sea without an additional source. She has no doubt he's deft with it, but could there be more to it than she knows? Could there be more than he knows? Could a Logia Awaken? What would that look like?

Buggy is a Flashy Fool, the Genius Jester, but right now, she is plain old Buggy - curious, excited and itching to experiment.

She asks questions - simple ones, odd ones, gathers her data as best she can. She will not use her friends as guinea pigs, she refuses, but she's going to compile, record, and analyze everything until she has a chance to go a little science.

She's a pirate, her morals are skewed, but she will not harm innocent, good people.

Everyone else is fair game.

And with a curious clown diving into a field of research so often controlled by the Marines, it brings the expanse of misinformation, control of knowledge, and fascist tendencies to glaring light.

And Buggy the Bombastic Clown lives up to her name in unexpected ways.

The Seas learn to fear when she holds up a hand, poses her finger to snap, and smiles. Your fate is sealed, more often than not, when blood red lips stretch and damn near coo, "Boom~".

And when some information about Pluton cones to light? Well.

She's got a fascinating option to power this behemoth of a war ship. Turns out keeping the Clown in the Guild was the best decision Crocodile could have hoped for.

Buggy takes the world by storm and it turns out being a war ship's power cell isn't even the biggest thing she discovers.

[todomemolesta18]

Angel Dust SA it wasn't glorified or romanticize or used torture porn but vivziepop how she handle this topic is not great. Vivziepop track record is questionable. Before hazbin hotel becoming full show the spin off helluva boss. We see how SA is used as comedy or something that should'n be taking seriously this happen to moxxie and blitzo. For moxxie he get abused is always butt of the joke and for blitzo he SA are seen as tragic romance. We also see how she just casually put that without consider what effect she could have toward the audience. The merch both helluva boss and hazbin hotel the character who seen uncomfortable getting saed, while merch is something anyone can do they should also aware what merch are they selling. Let return to hazbin hotel while the sa is not graphic it could have been notify more earlier we gotta see the depiction of sa. Valentino while we are supposed to hate him but we aren't allowed to do this with stolas. Angel dust making sex joke is not the issue is more so with how the trauma portrayal of him and he's personality that is quirky who love making sex joke. It would been better that angel dust making sex joke as coping mechanism then with he's love interest, husk he's not supportive. The reaction he have toward angel dust is just screaming to me self righteous older people who have it rough. Angel dust reaction who know he was being drugged it just odd, if angel dust don't know how to react or maybe he see that as normal then yeah sure i can found it to believable. Everyone reaction to him getting assaulted is just not good i hated charlie is not even angry or atleast put an attempt stopping valentino. Whether valentino is gotta get killed or not atleast put an effort to stop that abuser. This really frustrated me because we need more reaction where they cared for the people who suffer from this

The fanart of hazbin hotel caring for angel dust did much more better job than the creator who are coming from rich family. Addict do much more better job cherri bomb comforted him and charlie she reaching out to angel. Hazbin hotel charlie too childish and caricature of disney princess

ALL OF THIS. What else I can say?

Is just so messed up. In Hazbin hotel, they pretend to care about SA victims... then in the next ep, we have a joke were Sir Pentious gets assaulted!!!

Same with Moxxie in Helluva boss!

ALSO, the person who storyboarded the Poison scene? Is someone who has a r*pe fetiche. GREAT, VIV.

[lilis-doodle-dome]

Finally finished this! Antag Tsukasa hours!! I don’t tell how Tsukasa became corrupt, so feel free to theorize as you will

Au info below:

- As stated, Tsukasa is the antagonist. While Mizuki works with him only to feed info to the rebels and Akito is a glorified hostage

- The rebels each have a reason why they turned, and with the exception of the VS‘s it‘s directly related to Tsukasa

- Taukasa acts like a version of canon Tsukasa, but turned up to 11 as though he doesn’t actually know how to regulate himself. This of course is an act, he enjoys playing the fool and having others underestimate him.

- Tsukasa is also exceptionally hard on his two guards. Training with them until they collapse, gloating over them as he wins (which he always does).

-Sending Mizuki to do inane and unreasonable tasks to ‘prove their lotalty’ (which is because Tsukasa knows full well that Mizuki is a traitor and finds it entertaining to watch them run ragged trying to ‘prove’ themself).

-And of course ‘retraining’ Akito on how to act properly around nobility, which Akito constantly rebukes by acting out more, gaining even more ‘lessons’. (Toya’s section explains the retraining)

- Tsukasa has a huge amount of mana that he’s quite proficient at using (although nowhere close to Rui for profiency or Saki for mana storage) and is a master at sword fighting. So on top of being the crown prince is also a general in the royal guard. So defeating him would be quite the challenge *hint hint*

Saki: Ran away from her family, assisted by Tsukasa, who at that point was how we know him in canon. Despite hearing that he‘s become corrupt, she still wants to free him from the castle.

-She has the biggest mana resevoir of possibly any human ever, but has to use a lot of it to keep her body running. When she does use her magic, it‘s like a bomb going off, but leaves her very weak.

- Saki has the least about her because a lot of her ties back to Tsukasa and I’m trying not to reveal too much about him.

Toya: Tsukasa was someone he admired, so it came as quite a shock to him that, when Akito (Toya‘s personal guard) was heard complaining about the Tenmas, Tsukasa willingly took Akito to ‘retrain’ him.

-Toya’s father offered Akito as an apology for the slight (he already didn’t like Akito and the influence he had on his son, so it was an easy choice). Toya knew Tsukasa had been changing, but to go so far as to take Toya’s known closest compaion?

-Losing Akito, his father and Tsukasa’s betrayal. It was all too much, he had to leave. He’s working to free Akito and bring him back to his side!

Rui: Born a peasant, but snatched up by the Royal family as a mage when he showed incredible ingenuity and craft with magic,

-Rui spent most of his life being rejected by both sides (nobility and peasentry) for not being enough like either. Still he had his magic and two good friends, which was enough.

-One of his friends was Nene, who he knew even before he lived in the castle, but she followed him there using her amazing voice to land her a position of lead entertainer for the royal family.

-One day though when performing, she messed up and froze when she failed to hit a note. The Tenmas were not pleased and Tsukasa got up unsheathing his sword, saying: ‘A songstress that can’t sing, might as well lose her tounge.’

-Of course Nene ran for her life, but after awhile Tsukasa returned holding a bloody tongue. He threw it down in front of the remaining performers and told them that was ‘a lesson and warning’.

-Rui was horrified about what happened to one of his only friends and left, swearing revenge. But not before telling his other friend, Mizuki, about what happened and his plan.

-In response Mizuki, who was already a member although low-ranking in the royal guard, decided to work their way up to Tsukasa’s side so they could help their friend in his revenge.