#it'll be hillarious

[psydelta]

Imagine this: Bruce doesn't understand the concept of death.

He has pretty developed abstract thinking but this concept just. Evades him. He simply doesn't understand and has no intention to. Death is a social construct, and Bruce refuses to follow it.

It has so much crack potential but I'd like to see some DRAMA. Like, when his parents are shot in front of him, Bruce goes "nope, I refuse" and simply drives the whole concept of death out of his head. Instead he tells himself that "they'll be taken to the hospital and be fine". He anchors down with them, holds their hands and waits for help. Imagine Joe Chills terror when this child looks at him with horrified expression and goes "That must really hurt! Why did you do this?" and takes bloody hands of his dead parents muttering reassuring things and constant stream of you'll be okays and this will heals.

After Alfred takes Bruce home, he tries to explain that his parents are dead. But Bruce just looks at him with big eyes and says: "But they're in the hospital, and doctors will help them, right?" Alfred tries again and again, and eventually Bruce goes into full-blown tantrum and refuses to listen, covers his ears and goes hiding. Alfred doesn't have a heart to try this again.

And after days, then weeks, Bruce starts asking about his parents. Shouldn't he and Alfred go check on them? Why aren't they home already? What's happening? Where are they? And Alfred explains again: "They are dead, Master Bruce. They'll never come back, they are dead". But Bruce doesn't hear "dead" . He nods as if he totally and completely understands and hears "abandoned you" instead. Because being alive and abandoning him is better than being dead.

He lives with this. With the thought that his parents couldn't put up with him - put up with Gotham - anymore. He imagines their new life and shows hand-drawn pictures of them - alive and happy and in the midst of craziest adventures 10-year-old can come up with - and Alfred excuses himself after to cry alone every time.

Bruce forsed into therapy. It's not healthy to just forget about death; it's not healthy to live in such complete denial. And he goes, willingly, without complaints. He talks about problems at school, about his fears and anxieties that had gotten worse after his parents left him. He talks about them at length - mother's kindness and warmth, father's guidance and patience - and cries. And every time his therapists try to tell him: "But they're dead, Bruce", he gets this blank look in his eyes for a second and goes quiet and still. His sessions last for three years; Alfred thinks about fourth and does nothing.

After that it is still the same path - Bruce decides that he must help Gotham, seeks training, becomes Batman, all that drill. He fosters Dick - and loves him with all his heart. They fight, Dick leaves, and Bruce thinks that maybe it's not Gotham - maybe it's just him.

He finds Jason - hungry and miserable and too angry to be alone. He takes him under his wing, and makes him Robin, and everything is not fine - Dick still doesn't come home but at least he picks up the phone - but it's good. Bruce is good. He content with his life.

And then Jason dies.

It uproots everything. Dick comes home to scream at Bruce about his dead- something, they wasn't brothers truly, but Dick started to accept Jason as his successor. He screams himself to exhaustion. He turns to leave again. And then Bruce pulls down his cowl and says: "I understand that you are upset. It's my fault that Jason is in this condition. It'll take a lot of time to heal but hell be fine, Dick. I promise."

Dick is frozen. He stands with his mouth open, unable to form one coherent thought, until Alfred guides him away with a gentle touch on the elbow and explains Bruce's inability to understand death in hushed voice. Dick doesn't believe him. Not at first. Not until he sees Bruce talking at Jason's corpse with almost serene smile on his face and then Dick out of the cave to promptly retch into the nearest toilet. It's too much.

It's too much for Alfred too. He doesn't know what Bruce sees inside his mind, when the are at the wake and coffin is lowered into open maw of the grave. But Bruce talks to Jason - and Alfred doesn't listen after "I'll wait for you, son, as long as I need".

And the worst part? Jason does come back.

[ironjeonss]

Seeing how people support sarada and boruto, even write sarada's husband is boruto in naruto couples wiki website, also sarada gave a foreheadpoke to boruto..

Just so you know, sarada and boruto is embodiment and manifestation from them who can't make sasuke and naruto as couple bcs both are men..

Sarada is 90% similar with sasuke. Boruto is 90% naruto..

So, yeah.. if they ended up as canon couple, sarada become hokage and boruto her shadow hokage, it's just naruto and sasuke in heterosexual font..

Yknow, they love naruto and sasuke so much till they need to create a female version of sasuke and male version of naruto so they could make it work..

I'm not againts heteronomativity, but for naruto and sasuke case i'm all in..

i'm sure you guys familiar with this gif 😏

[bluerasbunny]

my work from this weeks magma! (and the reveals of radio host moon and sun!)

im not including the assageddon /j /pos

[majorbaby]

i think we may have to admit to ourselves that we enjoy misogyny and leveraging it against an "acceptable" target. i can draw a straight line between 2000s dane cook-ian style "women, right?" comedy and the way people so confidently, dump on hillary clinton in public. you don't have to like clinton or think she's a great politican or even a moral one to not make shit up about her.

even if she really did feel any spite or malice towards harris' shot at the presidency, clinton would never let that on. you'd never get such a thing out of her, she is far too strategic. clinton will support the democratic candidate no matter who it is, and i can say that because she did that in 2008 when she lost the nomination to obama. why would she be anything but thrilled and relieved if harris wins the election? why do you need to make up some misogynistic caricature of hillary clinton crying herself to sleep or asking to see the manager in your head to motivate yourself to vote for harris? surely there's a more viable organizing strategy than this?

[shimo-shenanigans]

TOMORROW!!

Tomorrow (Tuesday July 16) around 8ish PST (aka whenever Shimo runs home and finishes making din din) the Sith Inquisitor Dice Roll adventure begins live! :'D ...gods help me I'm gonna regret letting y'all vote on that! Be there to watch me suffer in the most comical way imaginable!

[dedalvs]

I was a student at UC Berkeley during the 2000 presidential election. The propaganda at that time was that Al Gore and George W. Bush were exactly the same candidate wearing different ties. There was no difference between them, so you should vote for Ralph Nader.

In 2016 the propaganda was Bernie Bros—and going both ways ("Hillary is an establishment candidate! You're not a real liberal if you don't vote for Bernie!" and also "Bernie will never win! If you EVER supported Bernie you're not a real liberal!").

This time the propaganda was Gaza. "How can you vote for a candidate that is a part of an administration responsible for GENOCIDE?!"

The thing with propaganda is it's always true—kind of. You can go right down the list and see the truth in all of these things:

Both Al Gore and George W. Bush were establishment candidates. Al Gore was the sitting vice president and a career politician and George W. Bush was the son of former president and vice president George Bush, who himself was vice president to Ronald Reagan.

HIllary Clinton was an establishment politican, the wife of a former president, and the sitting secretary of state. Bernie Sanders didn't have the party support to become the Democratic Party candidate on account of his history of independence.

Biden and Harris were in office during the Hamas attack on October 7th, 2023, and the US government has offered continued support to Israel in its couteroffensive.

Those things are true. But the true things were being used to distract the distractible from other arguably more important true things, e.g. that Al Gore's actual policies were more liberal than George W. Bush's; Hillary Clinton's policies were more liberal than Donald Trump's; and a Kamala Harris-led government was going to be better for Palestine than a Donald Trump-led government.

The goal with the propaganda each time was exaclty the same. It wasn't to get votes for a third party candidate or change policy or help Gaza.

The goal was to get liberals not to vote.

And it worked. Every time.

It'll work again, too, if we don't teach voters how to recognize this. It's pretty obvious though. If it's near an election and it's a wedge issue between liberal voters and ultra-liberal voters, that's the propaganda.

And it is 100% active and alive here on Tumblr.

[batboyblog]

Strange feeling,

9 years ago I started knocking doors with two goals in mind. I wanted to elect America's first woman President, a candidate I believed in deeply who inspired me and who was amazingly qualified to take on the hardest most complex job in the world. The other goal was equally clear, our future and our progress was at risk if a Republican took office, the Supreme Court was on the line, Republican Party was fixated on getting rid of Obamacare, attacking Social Security and Medicare, rolling back our new wins for LGBT rights, and of course banning abortion. In the Summer and Fall of 2015 it became more and more clear that the Republicans would pick Donald Trump and so the goal became even more clear and important, Stop Trump.

9 years of knocking doors across 5 elections I've come right back to where I started, the doors are different, I'm older, grayer, this Election Day I was not up at 5am doing lit drops (and god bless all the early birds who did that today). But I'm again voting for, and supporting an amazing, smart, qualified woman candidate who inspires me, and I'm voting to Stop Trump.

9 long years ends today, Today we finally finally FINALLY get to turn the page and put an end to Trump. How good will it feel to go weeks, even months, and years, without having to think about Donald Trump, talk about Donald Trump? 9 years is a long time to be stuck in a national abusive relationship, and no it won't fix everything, but damn it'll feel good.

9 years ago, one of the things that inspired me to work as hard as I did for Hillary Clinton was my grandma. She turned 90 in 2015, and would have turned 99 a few days ago. She was whip smart, with a razor wit, she read two books a week every week. She was a feminist before it was cool, always had her own job and her own money and her own car, in the 1950s when married mothers weren't supposed to do any of that. She seemed like she'd go on forever but I was realistic, I knew 2016 could be her last Presidential election, and I wanted her to see a woman President before the end. She passed away in 2019, and I miss her a great deal. She used to refer to Trump as "That shit" the final word said in a hiss of disgust. So I'm carrying her with me as I head to vote, and I'm voting for every tough, smart, witty woman who never got a shot because they were born in the wrong time, and for every little girl who's ever been told "no that's a boy job!" I've fought for 9 goddamn years to break this highest and hardest of glass ceilings and today is the fucking day.

[maretinelli]

FATAL ACCIDENT

Oscar Piastri X driver!fem!reader

Summary: When Oscar goes to watch Y/n's last race, the last thing he would imagine was that his girlfriend's car would start to roll over in the last laps.

Words: 7K+

Warnings: Established relationship, Oscar and Y/n pilots, accident, blood, bruises, injury, hospital, anguish, coma, but happy ending.

Author: English is not my first language, there may be mistakes, I'm sorry. And that's it, cry a little while reading.

MASTERLIST

Y/n was inside her motorhome, trying to close the back zipper of her racing suit while staring at the mirror, but with a concentration on the memories of yesterday.

The zipper resisted, as did the knot that insisted on tightening her chest. Every time she tried to take a deep breath, it felt like the air was getting stuck in her throat. Her hands were shaking, something she couldn't let show on the dance floor.

Yesterday was a tense day for the women at the Formula 1 Academy. One of the drivers ended up flipping her car during her qualifying session, forcing her to end up in the hospital due to her injuries. Not to mention that after that, Yin's teammate had crashed into the wall, but luckily, she came out unharmed.

In her mind, the image repeated itself in a cruel loop: Hillary's car rolling, the tires burning against the asphalt, the dry sound of the impact on the wall. Then, silence. The kind of silence that chilled the blood.

"Hey, my dear? What's going on in your head?" Oscar comes up behind his girlfriend, helping her close her jumpsuit and placing his chin on her shoulder, so he can see in the mirror.

"I was going to say nothing, but...the scene of Hillary spinning on the track yesterday haunts me." She says with a sigh, turning to face her boyfriend.

Oscar gives a small smile and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I don't know how to explain it...but I don't feel well today, maybe because of everything that happened yesterday...I don't know..." she says softly, with her arms on Oscar's shoulders.

Piastri hadn't seen the accident on the track yesterday, his flight had been delayed and he only arrived at dinner time. But as a Formula 1 driver, he knew very well how his girlfriend felt. The fear of it happening to her too.

"I understand you, and you don't need to pretend that everything is fine. I know how much an accident can affect us," Oscar tries to reassure.

"I just wanted to try to forget that scene for a little while... The sound of the crash, her car crushed and her not responding gives me chills." Y/n sighs and closes her eyes, laying on her boyfriend's left shoulder. "...I'm just scared...I'm scared it'll happen to me too..." she says in a muffled voice.

Oscar shudders.

"Hey, honey! That won't happen to you. I know how great of a driver you are and I know you can dodge any problem that comes your way." He kisses her shoulder. "And what's more! I'm here, I may not be on the track with you, but I'll be protecting you just the same." Oscar pulls Yin to look into her eyes, she smiles in relief.

Having Oscar there was like Y/n was on cloud nine and was on a sedative. She felt safe with Oscar around. And well, Oscar is Oscar. Calm, serious, centered. He's the perfect man for anyone.

"I love you!"

"I love you more!" Oscar pulls Y/n into a kiss before they can leave the motorhome to go to the garage.

The kiss was soft, but full of meaning, as if Oscar wanted to convey a calm that he himself did not have.

When the youngest arrived at the garage, about three engineers started talking at the same time about her car, she just let go of Oscar's hand with a shy smile, he just whispered 'you can go, I'll be here!' before smiling sweetly and watching Y/n from afar, the impeccable overalls hugging her body as she gestured and listened attentively to the mechanics.

Oscar was tense too, but of course, he wouldn't tell Y/n and make her more nervous than she already was. But in the last week, four nights in a row he dreamed about his girlfriend flipping the car too, but the only thing different in the dreams was the setting, each day she was in a different place. Track, road, highway and on the street that gave access to their apartment. All horrible dreams that made Oscar wake up scared and check if Y/n was okay, while she slept soundly next to him in the shared bed of their apartment in Monaco.

He was still lost in thought when Yin came up beside him smiling, "Hey, did you ride the train of thought?" She poked his chest and he laughed.

"Just thinking about where to take you on a date after you win the race," he teases, holding her waist. She blushes shyly, making Oscar laugh. "After all these years you still blush at my flirting?" He teases again.

Y/n rolls her eyes laughing. "Of course, Oscar Piastri, McLaren Formula 1 driver is flirting with me!" She jokes, making them both laugh.

The time had come, the chief engineer of Y/n's car alerted her, asking her to get ready to get in the car and go position herself on the grid. She felt her heart race and Oscar noticed when her smile fell, he moved his hands to her cheeks, making his girlfriend look.

"It's okay! You're going to rock it like always. And I'll be here to celebrate with you in a few hours." He smiles, kissing her forehead.

Y/n took a deep breath, but her fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted her gloves. The balaclava felt tighter than usual. Her ear muffs were too small that day, as if every little detail wanted to remind her of the pressure of the moment.

Piastri takes her helmet and holds it, waiting for his girlfriend to finish putting on her equipment. As soon as he sees her with everything ready, he approaches and takes the helmet to her, Y/n smiles with her eyes. "Thank you, love."

Y/n puts on her helmet and gets into the car, before any engineer could put the steering wheel in place, Oscar leans over and kisses the top of her helmet.

The kiss on the helmet was a ritual of theirs, a kind of silent amulet that seemed to guarantee that everything would be okay. The muffled sound of the touch echoed in her ear, bringing an inexplicable comfort. To Oscar, it was his way of promising that he would always be by her side, even when she was alone on the track.

He bends down: "Don't worry!! Nothing bad will happen and if it does, I'm here!! I'll always be here for you!" Y/n holds his hand, a little tighter than usual.

Oscar smiles and gives the mechanics permission, already putting his headphones on.

Within seconds, Y/n was pulling out of the garage. Oscar stood in the driveway, arms crossed and staring at the car as it drove away. He felt a pang of emptiness as her figure disappeared around the bend. The roar of the engine sounded like distant thunder, mixing with the pounding in his chest. He knew that now all he could do was wait and hope that his nightmares wouldn't come true.

Y/n was lined up in P3 on the grid, watching intently as the red lights went out, until an alarming sound signaled them to start. The youngest had a flawless start, taking P2 on the first corner.

"Hey Y/n, good job!" His chief engineer says over the radio and Oscar who was standing in front of the monitor, smiles proudly at his girlfriend.

But he still had a twinge of nervousness in his chest, he also knew how unpredictable that sport was.

Over the next few laps, Y/n began closing the gap on the leader, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. On lap ten, as they entered the main straight again, she used the slipstream to gain speed and made the pass on the edge of the corner. The move was clean and decisive, and the team radio exploded with celebration.

"Leadership!! Leadership!!" One of them exclaimed energetically over the radio, making Y/n smile inside the car and Oscar in the garage.

As the race progressed, Y/n began to open up an impressive lead. At 20 seconds behind the second-place finisher, she seemed uncatchable.

The people in the garage were bursting with happiness, while Oscar, with his arms crossed tensely, watched his girlfriend's every move on the television screen. He was happy with her position, but flashes of his dreams began to appear more frequently in the pilot's mind.

Now with only fifteen laps to go and the lead in her hands, Y/n began to feel something strange in the car. At first, it was a slight vibration in the steering wheel, almost imperceptible. She pressed her lips together under her helmet, ignoring the discomfort. But the vibration got worse, especially as she made the turn, feeling the car skidding on the track.

Apparently the engineers hadn't noticed anything wrong, but Oscar, more than experienced in this matter, frowned and tried to alert the garage staff.

"Hey, did you guys see that? Looks like she's having some trouble with the car."

The engineer shook his head, checking the numbers. "Everything looks normal here, Oscar. Maybe it's just steering adjustment."

"No. It's not normal." He pointed at the screen, his tone growing more tense. "Look how unstable the front of the car looks. She never takes turns like that. Something's wrong, you need to tell her."

Oscar was right and before any engineers could make any decisions, Y/n began trying to communicate via radio.

"There's...something...with the car..." Her voice cracks over the radio.

Oscar immediately tried to press the headphones tighter into his ears, thinking that maybe he hadn't heard correctly.

"Y/n, repeat, we're having audio difficulties," the engineer said over the radio, trying to remain calm.

"Something...car..." the voice came out broken again.

Y/n began to feel the car shake uncontrollably, evident on the monitors, and the steering wheel that had previously seemed firm in her hands was now vibrating violently.

"Damn it!" She screamed, trying to steady the car.

Now with only 10 seconds of difference to the second placed rider, Oscar started to get more tense, nervous and sweating cold. It was as if his worst nightmare had come true.

He quickly turns to the chief engineer: "Tell her to slow down..." he tries to warn. "NOW!!"

Most turn to Piastri, seeing the boy turn pale.

"We're trying, Oscar, but she needs to confirm the problem first." The engineer says, pressing the button to try to communicate with Y/n inside the car. "Y/n, can you hear us?...Y/n??" She doesn't respond.

Oscar saw it before anyone else. He straightened, his heart racing. "She's going to lose control!"

Sweat began to trickle down Y/n’s forehead, mixing with the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Something was wrong. She knew it. But she couldn’t explain it, couldn’t articulate the words over the radio. It was as if the car itself was collapsing under her control.

"Guys...FUCK!!" The only things they hear on the woman's radio.

That's when it happened. The car swayed violently on the straight, from left to right, before reaching the curve and hitting a wall. The impact was brutal. The metallic sound of the beat echoed through the headphones and across the dance floor. The car bounced off the barrier and, in an instant that seemed to last an eternity, began to roll over. Once, twice, three times, before stopping upside down, with parts of the fairing scattered across the asphalt.

It all happened too fast. Y/n’s world turned upside down—literally. Her seatbelt held her in place as the car rolled over. The sound of metal twisting and glass shattering was deafening. Each roll seemed to knock the air from her lungs as she fought to stay conscious.

Oscar froze. The world around him seemed to move in slow motion as he watched Yin’s car spin through the air. The scream caught in his throat, his eyes fixed on the screen as if he could stop the inevitable. All he wanted was to hear her voice. To know that she was okay.

The garage fell silent. The sound of the crash still echoed through everyone's headphones, and the air felt suffocating.

"Y/N?? CAN YOU HEAR ME? The team leader tries again, but nothing but a hiss comes from the woman's radio. Oscar can feel each second dragging by as they wait for news.

Some engineers dropped their headphones, putting their hands on their heads when they couldn't hear the pilot's voice.

The red flag was waving and paramedics were rushing to the scene of the accident, carrying fire extinguishers and rescue equipment. And that's when Oscar came to his senses, when Y/n didn't move or give any sign that she was okay. The radio was silent, and the broadcast camera showed his girlfriend's helmet tilted. Oscar felt his heart stop.

Quickly ripping the headphones out of his ears — almost breaking them. Piastri starts walking quickly to get out of the garage, until someone grabs him by the shoulders.

"Hey, hey, hey!" One of the engineers holds him back. "You can't go there, let the doctors help!"

"I can't just stand here when my girlfriend is between life and death!" He says angrily because they won't let him leave.

"You don't..."

"YES I CAN!!!" Oscar shouted, running away from there.

The curve that Y/n crashed into was not close to the pits, so Piastri ran for several meters until he managed to get close to some suspicious movement on the track.

Oscar arrived at the scene with his lungs burning and his heart racing. The scene in front of him was a nightmare, the dreaded nightmare he had had in those times: Y/n's car, destroyed, with paramedics and the rescue team struggling to remove her from the wreckage.

For a moment, everything passed in slow motion in Piastri's vision, the seconds seemed like hours and it seemed like people didn't move to help his girlfriend in the middle of those irons.

He comes back to reality when someone runs past with the stretcher and bumps into him.

"Sorry!"

Oscar runs a little further to the accident site: "Y/N!! Y/N!!" he screams, feeling his lungs burn more.

The air burned in his lungs, but he didn't even notice the pain. His legs felt like they were about to give out at any moment, but he couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop, not while she needed him.

The moment he approached, Y/n was being pulled out from under the car and placed on the stretcher. When they took off her helmet, Oscar saw his girlfriend's entire face, bloody, pale and with drops of sweat.

Piastri felt tears fall and his knees give out as he tried to get closer.

One of the paramedics saw Oscar and tried to get him to stay back. Meanwhile, the people in the stands were completely silent, some were crying, others were sitting with their hands on their heads and others left so as not to see the state of the driver.

"Hey, see! I need you to stay back, we're removing her and this could complicate her case!" The doctor says sympathetically.

Oscar shakes his head and tries to walk forward. "She's my girlfriend!"

The paramedic's eyes widened slightly and exchanged glances with the rescue team.

"Well...let's tell the truth then! She is in a very critical condition, but fortunately she is alive. She may have multiple fractures and a concussion." The doctor is sincere and Piastri can feel the ground open up a little more under his feet.

With that, her helmet fell from a stretcher and rolled across the floor until it came to rest at Oscar's feet. The personalized design—her number next to a drawing of her favorite constellation—made him feel a stab in the chest.

He bends down and presses the object against his chest.

A little further ahead, they put the oxygen mask on the woman and walked to the ambulance, Oscar started running again, leaving the paramedic talking to himself.

“Y/N!”

The rescue team holds him by the shoulders. "Hey, hey!" Oscar stops, still watching them carry Y/n unconscious.

"I have to go, it's my girlfriend. IT'S MY LIFE!"

"I understand. But you can't go with her in the ambulance, we need space because of her critical injuries. We're taking her to the nearest hospital." One of them says and Oscar nods in agreement. "Just be careful driving..." The team warns, as it was obvious that Oscar would find a way to get there.

The ambulance doors slam shut with a loud bang that rings in Oscar’s ears like a gunshot. He stands still, his eyes fixed on the siren as it rapidly retreats, until silence envelops him like a suffocating current. He finally moves, stumbling toward the car Y/n had rented for them for the weekend.

The key was in her trailer, along with her purse. Oscar takes everything on impulse and runs out to drive to the hospital.

During the journey, tears ran violently down the driver's cheeks. At each red light he stopped at, memories of Y/n and him flashed through his mind: The sweet smile she gave when Oscar said he fell in love with her every day, how her eyes shone when she was inside a racetrack, their conversations in bed late at night. Everything flashed through his head.

The hospital was lit coldly and impersonally, a cruel contrast to the chaos and heat of his mind. He nearly knocked over the objects on the reception desk as he approached, his words coming out in a rush and jumble: "My girlfriend... accident... Y/n... Is she here yet? Please, I need to know."

He clutched Y/n's bag to his chest as if it were an anchor to reality, leaning on the counter to communicate with the nurse.

"Accident at the racetrack?!" A nurse asks and he nods in agreement. "Yeah, it was about five minutes ago. They took him straight to the operating room." She looks at the system and then back at Oscar. "Is he her husband?"

Oscar hesitated for a split second. He wasn't her husband, but her boyfriend... her boyfriend for years, the man who knew Y/n meant everything to him. Still, this wasn't the time for technical corrections. He nodded quickly, his words choked out in a rush.

"Yes, I am."

"Okay! You can wait in the room next door," she said calmly, while Oscar was shaking and sweating coldly. Before he walked away, she looked at the bag underneath him. "Hey... do you have her documents with you? Just to register them in the system faster!"

Oscar nodded and, with trembling fingers, opened Y/n's bag. He rummaged through it until he found her wallet and the necessary documents. He handed them along with his to the nurse, who quickly entered them into the system. She handed the papers back to him with a comforting smile that he didn't even notice. Her gaze was fixed on the floor, her hands still shaking.

"That's right. Thank you."

Oscar mumbled a thank you, tried to smile, but failed miserably. He walked away, heading for the waiting room she had indicated.

The room was white and cold, making Oscar shiver as he sat in one of the hospital chairs. The space was reasonably large, with a space for children to play while they waited for appointments, doctors, and tests. Oscar lowered his head, looking at his girlfriend's bag on his lap.

Trying to distract his mind from the agonizing wait, he opened his bag, thinking about organizing it or looking for something that could help. That's when he saw it.

First, a small folded envelope with her name written in her handwriting. He pulled out the paper and opened it with trembling hands. It was one of the little letters he wrote himself and left for her when he left the apartment early.

"Good morning, my love. I know today is going to be a busy day, but I just wanted to remind you how lucky I am to have you in my life. You make me want to be better every day. I can't wait to see you tonight. I love you - Osc."

Oscar pressed his lips together, holding back the sob that threatened to escape. His hands shook as he flipped through the items in his bag, and he could feel cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck. The air felt heavy, each breath labored, as if fear were squeezing his chest.

Deeper in his bag, he found a Polaroid of the two of them. The photo had been taken at a random moment, on the couch at her mother's house. He was holding her by the shoulder, smiling shyly, while she made an adorable face with her tongue out. On the back, a note written by Y/n: "Our favorite moment: together."

He ran his thumb over the photo, tears falling uncontrollably now. He didn't even try to hide them.

Finally, he found her phone. The screen locked with the wallpaper of a photo taken on a trip to the snow, in which Y/n kissed him on the cheek while he smiled, red from shyness and cold. It was a sweet reminder of how she always made him feel loved, even in the simplest moments.

He leans on his knees and lets the sobs escape his body, while tightly holding the things Y/n kept from them.

"Please...stay with me...stay with me" He said between sobs.

From the counter, one of the nurses gave him a worried look. They were used to seeing suffering there, but something about the young man’s vulnerability struck them. An older nurse approached with a bottle of water, but stopped halfway, hesitating, respecting his space.

The seconds seemed like minutes, minutes turned into hours and the hours didn't pass. Oscar had been in the waiting room for about 5 hours, he had already given news to his family, friends and team, and now he prayed that a doctor would come to bring him good news.

Finally, a man in pajamas and a surgical cap appeared in the large room, looking around and seeing only a young man sitting there. When Oscar noticed, his body sat up straight in the uncomfortable chair.

"Y/n Y/s's companion?" The doctor approaches Oscar.

"Yes, me!" He says, standing up and leaving her bag on the chair, greeting the doctor with a firm handshake.

The doctor took a deep breath before answering, and Oscar felt the ground shake beneath his feet, as if the fate of his life depended on his next words.

"First of all. Mr Pias... Piastri right?" The doctor looks at the file and Oscar nods. "I mean your girlfriend is alive!"

Oscar felt the air leave his lungs at the speed of light. But that crushing sensation was still there, there was something else for the doctor to say and Oscar knew it.

"She is in critical condition. She suffered multiple fractures - arms, ribs and one of her legs and had a severe blow to the head, which resulted in a traumatic brain injury." The doctor said seriously and Oscar felt tears coming back to his eyes.

"Trauma? Is... is it serious? She... she'll wake up, right?" He asks in distress.

"Right now, she's in an induced coma. This is to stabilize her body and allow us to treat her injuries more safely. The good news is that her vital signs are stable, and she's responding well to the first procedures." The surgeon places a hand on Oscar's shoulder, causing the younger man to sigh and release a sob stuck in his throat.

"But she'll wake up, right? She'll be okay?"

The doctor sighs, not wanting to give him false hope, but also not wanting to make him worry.

"It's too early to predict. An induced coma is a controlled procedure, but we need to wait to assess brain damage. Each case is unique, and recovery time may vary. The important thing now is to give her body time to recover."

Oscar nods in agreement, letting the tears fall.

"I know this is very difficult to hear, but the important thing to remember is that she is alive and responding well to the procedures already performed. We will monitor her closely!" The doctor smiles and Oscar wipes away tears. "And a crucial medicine for her is emotional support! She will need you by her side!"

"Of course, of course! I wouldn't dare leave her alone here," Oscar says quickly.

"She is in good hands. The hospital itself is a reference. We will take good care of your little girl."

Oscar held his breath at those words. His little girl. He felt a rush of emotion so strong it almost made him falter. A small, shaky smile escaped his lips after hours of pure tension. Even in the midst of chaos, hearing that felt like a promise that there was still hope.

"She's in a room in the ICU, but we can let you stay with her." The doctor says softly, placing a hand on the pilot's shoulder again, as a gesture of comfort.

Oscar nodded quickly, clutching her bag tightly to his chest as if it were a lucky charm. He stood up, ready to follow the doctor.

The white walls seemed to close in around him, the sound of his footsteps echoing along with the distant murmurs of nurses and monitors. He had his bag slung over his shoulder, gripping it tightly as he stepped out of the elevator and walked behind the doctor. The scenes of her car overturning still made a point of playing in his mind on a loop.

"Here we are. I'll leave you alone. If there's anything, just call a nurse using the button next to her bed, or go to the nurse's station here at the end of the hallway," the doctor says, pointing to the place and leaves, leaving Oscar paralyzed for a moment in front of the door of the room where Y/n was.

He took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of fear and relief. Finally, he opened the door and stepped inside.

The sound of the heart monitor filled the room immediately, the steady rhythm almost reassuring, though he felt each beat like a punch to his chest.

There she was, lying on a bed that seemed enormous around her frail body. Oscar stopped suddenly, the air escaping from his lungs in a silent sob. She was surrounded by wires, tubes, and bandages. Her face was pale, with small cuts and scratches visible, but clean of the blood from before, and her arm and leg were in a cast, supported by a suspended frame.

But it was her. It was still her.

He dropped his bag on the armchair and walked a few steps until he stopped next to her bed, letting the tears fall.

Piastri lightly touches his girlfriend's hand with his finger, afraid of hurting her. "Hey, love..." He whispered, his voice shaking, trying to sound strong, even though he felt like he was falling apart.

He finally let his hand rest on hers, cold to the touch, but still alive: "You're here! You're alive!" Oscar sobs. "I was so afraid of losing you..." He kneels beside the bed and cries. A cry that seemed to have been kept for years.

He let his feelings take over.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Oscar and Y/n were in the office of their apartment, with the computers in the French class and books and notebooks on their desk.

"I want a... umm... croissant and coffee?" Y/n reads with a serious expression.

"You're ordering coffee and croissants like it's a life or death mission." Oscar laughs, holding a book in his hands as well.

The video lesson was already ending, while Oscar and Y/n were still trying to pronounce the first sentence the teacher said.

"Alright, my turn now!" Oscar says and chooses a sentence in the book, he reads it mentally and looks at his girlfriend to try to pronounce it. "Je suis... une baguette?"

Y/n burst out laughing.

"You just said it's a baguette!"

"Well, I'm Australian, I can be whatever I want. Including a baguette." He says amusedly, with a smile on his face as he watches his girlfriend laugh at the next table.

"If it depends on our French, we will die of hunger in Paris.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The Piastri house was radiant with Christmas decorations. The yard was lit up, the garlands on the windows, and even Thilly's house, the family's golden retriever, was decorated with lights and a giant red bow on the roof.

In the kitchen, Y/N was helping Nicole, Oscar's mother, prepare dessert for dinner. She was stirring a pot on the stove while Nicole organized the ingredients on the counter.

"So, Y/N, how are you dealing with both of your busy calendars? It must be crazy." Oscar's mom asks.

Y/n smiles "It's busy, but it's worth it. Especially since we make a point of visiting each other whenever we can. We understand that our schedules are tight" she smiles more, looking at her mother-in-law as she walked past her daughter-in-law and placed a hand on her shoulder .

"Hey, I heard something about me!" Oscar walks into the kitchen, grabbing a soda from the fridge.

Nicole laughs and Y/n rolls her eyes smiling, as she turns off the stove.

"I was just saying how terrible you are in the kitchen," Y/n jokes, placing the pan on the table and looking for a serving dish.

Oscar laughs, leaning against the counter,

"But you know, Nicole...he makes up for it with flowers and dinners" Y/n says shyly, looking at her mother-in-law. Who watched the scene in wonder.

Oscar walks up to his girlfriend and hugs her from behind.

"You know what else I'm good at? Choosing an amazing girlfriend." He kisses his girlfriend's neck. "And also..." he whispers something in her ear, making Y/n turn red as pepper.

"OSCAR!!!" She says loudly, afraid his mother might have heard. "Your mother is here!" She hits her boyfriend on the chest and he smiles.

"I didn't see or hear anything!" Nicole raises her hands as she walks around the kitchen, making the couple laugh.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was a quiet night in Y/n and Oscar's apartment. They were on the couch, curled up under a blanket, watching a random movie. The low light in the living room created a cozy atmosphere, and the sound of the rain hitting the window completed the perfect setting.

Y/n had her head resting on Oscar's chest, while he absentmindedly played with the strands of her hair. The movie seemed to be far from holding both of their attention, but neither of them wanted to leave.

"Did you know you snore when you sleep on the couch?" Oscar breaks the silence with a mischievous smile.

Y/n lifts her head, pretending to be offended. "I DON'T snore!"

"He snored last week when he slept here after that long flight. I even recorded it..." He takes out his phone, ready to prove it.

"Oscar Piastri, if you recorded it, I swear I'll make you sleep on the carpet!" Y/n laughs, trying to grab the phone from his hands.

He turns away and pulls her closer, hugging her sideways. "Okay, okay. Maybe I overreacted... But you're adorable even when you're snoring."

Y/n rolls her eyes but smiles. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

"And you're stubborn, but I think I love you anyway." The sentence comes out unpretentiously, but the weight of it hangs in the air for a few seconds.

Y/n freezes, looking at Oscar. He looked relaxed, but there was a slight tension in his smile, as if he was waiting for her reaction.

"Do you... love me?" She asks, with a shy smile and her heart racing.

"I do. Quite a bit, actually." He laughs nervously, running a hand over the back of his neck. "I thought it was kind of obvious, but... now it's there, I said."

Y/n feels her cheeks burn, but she can't hide the happiness written all over her face. She leans in to kiss him lightly, before whispering, "I love you too."

Oscar smiles like a kid who just won the biggest prize in the world. "You know, now you can't complain when I prove you snore."

Y/n laughs, hugging him again. "You ruin all the cute moments, you know that?"

"Ah, but you love me anyway."

They kiss again, while the movie continues to fade into the background, as does anything else that wasn't the two of them at that moment.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

They were at a racetrack while Oscar was training with the McLaren team. It was the end of the day, and only the team was in the garage. That weekend Y/n managed to travel to see her boyfriend.

"Hey, do you want to train with me?" Oscar asks, holding out a helmet in front of her.

She widens her eyes and smiles.

"But with what car?" She picks up her helmet, excited about the idea.

"You can go with mine, Lando lent me his!" Oscar says smiling.

"So, ready to get your ass kicked?!!" Y/n smiles, putting on her helmet.

"Keep dreaming, princess!" Oscar sighs and kisses her helmet. "I'm a Formula 1 driver."

"Honey, you may be an F1 driver, but I'll be your boss here on the track when I win." She smiles mischievously.

After deciding to do three laps and complete them, Y/n arrives first at the garage, getting out of the car and laughing, while taking off her helmet and waiting for Oscar.

30 seconds later, he arrives in the garage behind her.

"Who really got beat up?? OSCAR PIASTRI!!! She screams, standing next to the car as Oscar gets out of his teammate's car.

"Calm down, honey! I was going slow so as not to hurt your ego." Piastri smiles, approaching his girlfriend.

The engineers began to put away the equipment and cars.

"Of course, of course! And I'm the Queen of England!" Y/n jokes, tossing her hair back.

Oscar rolls his eyes with a smile, placing his hands on his girlfriend's waist and pulling her in for an unexpected kiss.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was an F1 Academy event, where the Y/N team invited McLaren to promote the partnership. Oscar and Y/n crossed paths for the first time, in the hallway near the stage, as they were preparing to go into an interview with the teams.

"Hi, you must be Y/n Y/s, right? I've heard a lot about you!" Oscar comes up behind the woman, making her turn around and smile, while adjusting the microphone in her ear.

"Hey, I do!!" She sighs and shakes the hand Oscar had extended. "I hope I heard good things!" She laughs.

"Yes, only good things," he smiles. "By the way, Oscar Piastri!"

"I heard about you too. Great race last time, and congratulations on winning the GP. It was amazing" she smiles, seeing some people asking for them to come on stage.

"Thanks. But from what I've seen, you're not far behind either. The F1 Academy has a rising star."

Y/n smiles shyly, while picking at her fingernails.

"If that means you'll be nervous competing with me one day, I'll take the compliment."

Oscar looks at her with a twinkle in his eye: "We'll see who gets nervous. But I think I'll enjoy following your journey."

"Only if it doesn't get in your way." Y/n lets out a small laugh.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The weeks had passed, and Oscar was still by Yin's side in the hospital. Nicole had taken a flight a few days ago to help with her daughter-in-law, telling Oscar to rent a hotel room to rest while she took care of the young woman.

Oscar was a little doubtful at first, but he trusted his mother a lot and knew that whatever happened to Y/n in the hospital, she would call him immediately.

At the moment, he was walking down the hallway to her room, after having spent a few hours in the hotel room trying to rest and taking a hot bath.

He had some of Yin's clothes in the suitcase he had brought, along with some take-out snacks he had bought at the market next door. When he opened the bedroom door, he saw that there was empty, without Yin's bed with her and without his mother. He began to panic, until Nicole came out of the bathroom.

"Mom?? Where's Y/n?" He says, placing the suitcase on the armchair and feeling his heart race.

"Calm down, son," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to convey calm.

"The doctors came to get her to run some tests. They said she's responding well to the medications and procedures and..." She hesitated, but a slight smile lit her face. "They said she could wake up from her coma at any moment."

She was going to wake up. Certainty took hold of Oscar, making him sigh in relief and let a few tears fall.

They stayed in the room talking, while they waited for the doctors to bring Y/n back. And when they arrived, they brought good news for the family. Y/n no longer needed so many tubes attached to her, and the fractures were progressing well. Oscar smiled, when he saw that his girlfriend now only needed an oxygen tube to help her breathing.

All those wires attached to her made Oscar's stomach turn.

"I'm going to rest a little and call her family to tell them the good news. If there's anything I'll be downstairs at the reception." Nicole said smiling at her son, while Oscar pulled the armchair as close as possible to Y/n's bed.

"It's okay, Mom! Thanks for staying with her...for everything, really..." Nicole reaches over and kisses the top of her little boy's head.

"Anything for you guys, I love you," she says, walking out the door and closing it.

He turned to look at her face. For the first time in weeks, Y/n looked at peace. Her face, once marked by bruises and swelling, now had only small, almost invisible scars. He smiled, taking her hand and caressing it.

"I heard you brought good news, you know?" he began in a soft, almost whispered tone. "I can't wait to see you awake and tell you how much I love you... But you already know that, right?" He chuckled, remembering how she always made fun of his nervous manner.

Oscar sighs deeply, before starting to talk to her. Even though she didn't answer, he knew that Y/n was listening to everything around her.

"You know, I was remembering the bedtime conversations we had... There was one time when you started talking about kids. At that moment, I almost panicked, thinking you wanted them now. You laughed so hard at my expression that I almost cried with relief." He smiled as he remembered. "You said it was something for the distant future, but you liked to plan things. And then you asked me if I liked the idea of having little knots running around. I said yes. That was the day I fell in love even more for you. That smile you have... sweet and bright... makes me want everything with you." He looked at her face. "Remember that day?"

For a second, he felt pressure on his hand. As if someone had squeezed it. His eyes widened and he looked at his girlfriend's hand, which he was holding.

"Y/n?? Honey!!" Oscar says, now feeling and seeing her hand move. "Honey, I'm here!! I'm waiting for you!" She squeezes his hand again, making tears fall down Oscar's face.

That was when she coughed, breaking the silence. The cough was weak, but the sound made Oscar jump up. The oxygen tube was in the way, and she looked uncomfortable.

Oscar acted quickly, running to the door and calling for the nurses and doctors, his heart racing with excitement and nervousness. The room began to fill with professionals, while Oscar stood in a corner so as not to disturb them, feeling that from that moment on, everything would be fine.

Y/n was awake while the neurosurgeon did some tests and questions to her, and she answered with the right answers. Before leaving, the doctor looks at Oscar, smiling friendly and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, she's awake!"

Oscar lowers his head, smiling and hiding his tears. "Yeah, she's awake!" He smiles. "Thank you," Oscar thanks before the doctor leaves the room with the nurses. He approaches slowly, as if he still can't believe she's there, awake. A living, breathing Y/n, looking at him.

The youngest sees the pilot approaching her bed with a smile, taking her hand, the one who had moved in the coma moments before.

"Hey honey!" He smiled, letting the tears fall.

Y/n, always the jokester in the relationship, frowned and pulled her hand away slightly, stifling a laugh. "Who are you?"

Oscar froze. For a second, the world around him seemed to disappear, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. His mind went into a panic, searching desperately for something on her face—some clue, some sign that this was a joke.

Until he heard it. A faint, drawn-out laugh, but so familiar that it made his heart stop for another reason.

"Hey, honey, I do know you. I was just messing with you." Y/n smiled, now squeezing his hand tighter, her eyes shining with a humor that only she had.

"Do you want to scare me to death?" Oscar let out a deep sigh as he smiled and squeezed her hand.

She smiled tiredly: "Oh stop, I knew you could handle it, Piastri."

Oscar can't stop smiling, approaching and placing a hand on her face.

"You have no idea how scared I was all these days. Your voice cracking on the radio, your car flipping over countless times, the doctor's news that you were in a coma. I thought I was going to lose you... I was so scared..." He whispers, his voice thick with tension, but relieved that she was okay now. "I stayed by your side every day for the past few weeks... I was afraid that I would go to rest and you would be gone..." Oscar cries, lowering his head.

A few tears fell from Y/n's face as well.

"That's why you have that zombie face, you haven't slept in days!" she says to lighten the tense atmosphere between them.

Oscar lifts his head and laughs, "Yeah, I couldn't sleep peacefully while you were here!"

Y/n smiles without showing her teeth. A tired smile, but that same sweet smile that Oscar loved.

"It all happened so fast..." she begins telling her story. "The radio started to fail, the steering wheel wasn't as stable on the straights and suddenly I found myself face to face with the curve, I tried to brake but when I realized it, the car was already in the air and flipping over. I only had a few more seconds before I passed out, and in that time I could only think about you... I could only think about how to get back to you. And then everything went black" She says, crying softly and Oscar caressing her cheek, and wiping away the silent tears.

"But hey, you're here now. You found a way to come back to us."

Y/n smiles, nodding in agreement.

"But, you know... even when I was unconscious, I heard you. Every day. I heard you calling me, telling me that I was strong, that I was going to be okay."

Oscar's eyes widen, smiling excitedly: "Did you hear me?"

"Yes. I heard you telling me about all the moments we spent together, and how you wanted me to come back so I could continue living by my side." She smiles, now holding her boyfriend's face. "And you know... I also remember that night when I brought up the subject of children!" She smiles, making Oscar laugh.

"Always scaring me half to death" Piastri smiles.

A little light in Oscar's mind turns on, signaling that now was a good time to reveal what he had been thinking for so long.

"Y/n... I don't think I've ever said it in so many words, but... I love you. Not just in a simple way, but in a deep way, that takes my breath away and makes my heart ache just thinking about losing you." Without realizing it, he puts his hand in his coat pocket, holding a small velvet box. "And after everything we've been through these weekends and in all our relationship history, I don't want to wait anymore, I don't want to wait for the right moment, I don't want to spend even one more second away from you..." he places the ring box in front of his girlfriend, Y/n feels her breath catch in her lungs, almost asking for the oxygen tube again. "I've been carrying this in my pocket for about 5 months, every time we travel and go out together, thinking that there would be the right moment to ask, but here and now, I feel like it's the best moment we have, because I don't want to be away from you anymore. Y/n Y/s, will you marry me? Be my partner in all the curves of life, in all the ups and downs?" He kneels down, opening the box and showing the engagement ring.

Y/n felt the tears fall from her face, if it was the coma, she didn't want to wake up. Because it was the most beautiful dream she could ever imagine having in her life, until Oscar entered her and messed everything up for the better.

"Oscar... do you have any idea how much of an impact you have on my heart? Literally, because right now I think it's going to need a defibrillator." Oscar laughs at his soon-to-be-engaged girlfriend's comment. "Now, seriously... proposing to someone while she's got her arm in a bandage, her hair in a bird's nest and she's on a life support machine? Is that how you want me to remember this moment?"

Piastri smiles with tears in her eyes: "I want you to remember how much I love you. Because even so, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And because I can't go another second without knowing that you will be mine forever."

Y/n takes a deep breath, letting the tears fall: "Oscar Piastri, you are completely crazy... and I accept it. Of course I accept to marry you!"

The pilot feels the air return to his lungs, smiling broadly and carefully approaching to place a soft kiss on the bride's lips. Then, he lovingly slides the shiny ring onto her finger.

She looks at the ring, and then at her fiancé, with a genuine smile on her face before saying.

"You know you're going to have to ask me again when I look halfway decent, right?"

Oscar laughs, "Okay. I promise to ask you every day, just in case."

[raptorific]

I saw your post re: the silver lining to Biden stepping down. I felt relieved to remember that Trump is now the only incoherent old guy in the race. However, the relief quickly subsided when I remembered that Hillary was very well-spoken and polished, if not quite as young as Harris.

Harris fortunately doesn't have quite the same baggage as Hillary, so I'm hoping that will make the difference. What do you think?

*I realize this could sound like I'm trying to agitate, and I'm not, so no need to post if you don't want to.

So, apologies in advance, because I foresee a lot of Words happening in my response here. It's worth getting into because I feel like a lot of what you're bringing up are legitimate fears but also coming more from a place of Anxiety than from an actual pattern forming

First things first, to be clear, my post about Biden stepping aside did not highlight a silver lining in otherwise bad news. Biden stepping aside has been an objective boon to our chances of securing the White House in November. I wasn't saying "this is bad news, but look on the bright side," I was saying "that dread you're feeling is misguided, because this is, in its entirety, good news."

To your point about Hillary Clinton being well-spoken and polished: that's true! She very much was! However, crucially, the 2016 election was not one characterized by a debate over how polished or articulate the candidates were. The reason this can be considered a "shit the bed" moment for Trump is because of a factor that is present in this election, that was not present against Hillary Clinton: in this election, he spent all his time and energy selling himself as the younger, healthier, less senile of the two candidates, and now he's without his primary selling point in the eyes of this election cycle's electorate.

Now, Trump is actually showing signs of severe mental decline while Biden only shows signs of "a speech impediment" and "being over 80" and on a physical level Biden is very obviously much more healthy than him, but nonetheless, through a series of lucky breaks and crafty rhetoric, he was able to sell the public on the idea of Biden being some sort of Corpse Puppet. The reason why that matters is because he successfully sold voters on the concept "someone who is old, who can't get through a sentence, is not fit to be president." That narrative wasn't a factor in 2016, and it is in 2024.

The other important factor to remember about 2016 is the context in which that election happened, and why the dirty tricks and bigotry leveled at Hillary by the right actually worked on the public. Specifically, at the time, we were coming off eight years of a black president, a historic first, who the republicans had spent years and years trying to oust or otherwise discredit, and who was poised to come out of office as a fairly well-respected figure.

Voters have a tendency to view white men as, for lack of a better term, "Default" or "Normal" with no modifiers. Many of the people who voted for Trump were people who had, in reality, no specific problem with a black president, but felt that after eight years it was time to get back to "Normal." They saw Clinton, another huge Historic First as the would-be First Female President, and a lot of them said "no thanks, we just had a president who's African-American, we don't want to switch to one who's Woman-American, let's reset back to a Normal-American (read: White Man) before we do any more Progress, otherwise it'll feel like the world is changing too fast."

There's obviously other factors at play. I'm not denying Clinton had other problems as a candidate, but an overwhelming amount of why she lost was rooted in the electorate's misogyny, and their desire to return to a status quo of a white man-- almost any white man-- with no other Identity Categories, as president. It's why I do think Joe Biden would've handily won the 2016 election, had he chosen to run, but I'm not here to play the what-if game.

It's also worth mentioning, at this stage, that most of the country actually was okay with having a Woman President, and, specifically, with having Hillary Clinton be that woman president-- she received more votes than Trump by the millions-- it was only due to the system-rigging done hundreds of years ago by slavers that he was allowed to become president despite the will of the voters.

So, the reason why this matters: voters tend to like a change, to a certain extent. Barack Obama was largely able to win election in 2008 specifically because he was a young, handsome, charismatic black candidate, who stood in stark contrast to his opponent, an older white guy who just kinda seemed like a redux of the bumbling old white guy everyone already hated as President at the time. Trump won largely because of a pendulum swing away from Historic First Barack Obama being the status quo.

Right now, we've been governed by two Old White Guys for the past eight years, one from each major party. In the 2016 climate, a Historic First, electing a Something-American, was scary and intimidating to a lot of voters. This year, in 2024, we're playing a different ball game: Donald Trump is selling More Of The Same (old white guys who've been in all the elections for the past eight years and who both come across somewhat bumbling) while Kamala Harris is selling a refreshing change of pace (a younger Black and Indian woman who is visibly competent, intelligent, charismatic, and let's not downplay the effect this has on the electorate, attractive).

I maintain that running a female candidate in 2016 was, unfortunately, a political miscalculation. I think that if it had been two straight, christian white guys, the election would've been made about the issues and it would've gone to the democrats. Novelty was a liability for a candidate in 2016. In 2024, "more of the same" is a liability, and novelty could prove the greatest blessing.

Hell, look at how excited people got when Biden dropped out, and suddenly people had something election-related to pay attention to other than "BREAKING NEWS: ELECTION STILL COMING IN NOVEMBER, PROBABLY WILL GO BAD."

To your point about the baggage with Clinton: an important thing to understand is that the Republicans identified her political ambitions as early as the 1980s, and started drafting their "Running against her for President" playbook as soon as Bill was president. They were ready to take her down in 2000 when they worried she'd run, and in 2008 when she was a frontrunner for the nomination, and then finally managed to use it in 2016 when she actually was the nominee. Trump lucked into a showdown with, to re-use a recent analogy, an enemy whose Kryptonite he happened to have inherited.

The misogynist attacks on Hillary Clinton largely worked because they had been thoroughly seeded over the preceding 30 years. Many people, even democrats, really didn't like Hillary, for reasons both Fair and Unfair, and a lot of the people who voted for her were, as the cliche goes, holding their nose and voting blue. A lot of the median swing voters fell hook, line, and sinker for the GOP attacks on her, and either stayed home or voted for the other guy.

As I mentioned in my previous post, they don't have much of a playbook for Kamala Harris. They've done zero preparation for the possibility of her presidential run because they thought they wouldn't have to worry about her until 2028, if at all. They've tried "she laughs weird" but it doesn't really work because people are finding it endearing and because their guy does everything weird. They've tried "she's a childless cat lady" and that offended everyone's casually conservative step-parents and lost them a bunch of support. Trump's campaign has been tripling down on bolstering support of their small but vocal Base, by hammering down on the idea that she's a "far-left radical" but that's just a page out of the playbook they use for everybody, and doesn't really play with anybody who isn't already voting for them.

And, I already hear people typing to remind me not to forget this, they have tried the racist angle, painting her as a "DEI hire" and an "affirmative action vice president," or even claiming she's ineligible to serve because her parents were immigrants. Firstly, again, they're borrowing a failed page from their anti-Obama playbook for that last one, and second, the actually competent republican strategists have been begging the public-facing parts of the party to please stop attacking her on the basis of race and gender, for one simple reason:

Mask-off racism loses you votes. It's why Trump always has to pretend like he cares about "black jobs" and that his problem with immigration is that "Mexico is sending us all their bad hombres" rather than admitting that his problem is just that the people immigrating are Mexican at all. It's why top Republicans spent the past 16 years talking about birth certificates and constitutional eligibility for Obama, instead of just calling him slurs.

You can win voters by saying "we're okay with a black president, but the Democrats are breaking the rules by letting this guy in particular be president, it's not about him being black, it's about him being ineligible." You don't win voters by saying "keep the white house white." The people who that second thing would work on? Already voting republican 100% of the time.

Which is another important reason to have hope here: in 2016, the Republicans were still maintaining the (objectively false) pretense of not being racist. I don't think anything's changed about the Republican party between the Nixon era and today except that now, they say the quiet part loud. They've spent the past eight years systematically eliminating the power-players who maintain the Not Racist masquerade and replacing them with people who will actively say overtly, unabashedly racist shit without pretending it's about something else. It's why the republican strategists keep begging people not to attack her on the grounds of race: it will lose them voters.

That's more or less the short version of my summary of why I think 2024 will go differently than 2016. I hope I'm right. I'm right about a lot more stuff than I'm wrong about, but I'm also wrong about a lot of stuff, so I might not be. Nothing's over until it's over. If you don't want to see a repeat of 2016, go make sure you're registered to vote, and then on Election Day, go vote for Kamala Harris. Either she, or Donald Trump, will become the president at the end of this year. There is no third option that is mathematically capable of happening. If you are legally eligible to vote and physically capable of doing so, voting for Kamala Harris is the only action you can take (including inaction) that can prevent Donald Trump from taking over the country and doing away with any semblance of US Democracy altogether.

We can win this. With all of our help, we will win this. Doomerism on the left benefits nobody but the right. People being genuinely excited from now until November might actually translate into electoral victory.

[triviallytrue]

in a just world Hillary Clinton's legacy would be the horrific US interventions she oversaw as secretary of state but it's a pretty funny consolation prize that it'll actually be losing the most winnable election in US history

[ask-trashhunter]

Ok folks!!! OOC post!! I have 16 Trash Hunter designs now, which means I should be able to run a bracket tournament that lines up pretty neatly! :D

First though I wanna introduce you to all the designs I've done so far!!

All of these have a unique name for voting purposes, but don't worry about remembering them all I'll show pictures of them every time!

Human Hunter 1

Starting off simple, this is Human Hunter 1! The OG, the classic, my pfp! Honestly I kinda rushed this design bc I made this blog on a whim, so I had to make the design super quick! I spent like a little over an hour on this, and I had only really spent 15 extra minutes beforehand thinking about their design, so that's around 1 and a half hour total...... Idk how long I spent on the others. Anyway, basically their top half is pretty human looking, EVERYTHING about them is as green as I managed to get it (green is Their Color to me) and then their bottom half is basically meant to just be a trashy sludge that sort of melts and merges with their landfill. It's hard to tell where the landfill starts and where Trash Hunter ends. Oh yeah- and I have like 3 drawings of them in this style, their skin tone varies a LOT between each drawing lol. um. you haven't seen. the third one btw haha. it's totally not of me and trash hunter holding hands why would you even say that

Human Hunter 2

Alright, this is my second "human" Trash Hunter design. I wasn't quite happy with my first one, so I wanted to change it to something more like this. However!! I never actually got to finish my design until I watched something that changed the way I thought forever. I finished this drawing just this monday actually, because I'd forgotten I had no finished drawing of Human Hunter 2. I want you to remember that giant grapply arm they have and those spider legs. Also, you'll notice there's a line next to them, and it says "Cop" under. That's how tall Copper would be (per my headcanons) next to the various Trash Hunter designs. They really vary in size. For reference, I headcanon Copper as 152 cm, or 5 feet. I'll add a size chart in at the end- they won't be 100% accurate to the pictures but it'll be in the same area at least.

Trashbag Hunter

Ok this. This is where my life changed. I watched the hodgepodge audio new year's patreon video and got friggen mentioned. Hi Raddagher if you're seeing this I'm still not normal about Trash Hunter. I started feeling a bit insecure about my designs like I'd been boring about them so I was trying to redeem myself. When I started imagining Trash Hunter as a fucking trash bag with grillspyd- er- collapsible grilling skewer thingies- for legs. And holy FUCK I could not get the image out of my head it's hillarious and adorable. Relisten to the episode and imagine Trash Hunter like this TRUST ME /nf

Either way, this is where I started to expand my horizons. The trash bag and the grillspyd are sort of reocurring atp. Also this was my Discord pfp for a while, now I've changed it. Might change it back eventually honestly? I don't do that. I don't repeat profile pictures ever. Ok I might have done that at some point. But for now my pfp stays the same. This is my PFP over on bluesky though!

Anyway this is the cutest shit I've ever imagined- the drawings that follow are mostly random doodles I've made at D&D or during class. BUT FIRST!!!

Pony Hunter

Ok so I play ponytown. I played a bit ages ago and then I almost forgot it existed, then my friendo kept showing off what they were doing on there and I'd seen a few vids on it recently and long story short I've made 16.5 new ponies on there and most of them are Hodgepodge Audio themed. Ponytown Pony Hunter doesn't usually wear that turtle but in this screenshot they do. The drawn version shows a bit more how I actually view them though. Oh and that IS a croissant behind their ear, thanks for asking!! (I've been waiting to say that for months, I'm overjoyed now)

Their tail is a compact mirror btw! And that tarp they have in game, those are actually wings, teehee! Oh and I forgot to say why they have croissants behind their ears- basically I was looking at the horns and realized one set of horns was kinda curvy in a croissant-y way. So I was like eh, heck it. Croissants.

Seagle Hunter

This is where the chaos started. I was at DND, and we were on a quest to help a god. We met a seagull who was definitely not a fucking seagull. I ended up getting downed and when we were like what, 5 hp away from killing whatever creature was wrecking our shit, our 2 remaining teammates fucking left us. My character Thomoras only survived because one of our teammates asked the seagull to intervene, and the seagull fucking killed the creature. Thank you, seagull. I called you Karl but I never got your real name. I'm sure you wouldn't have answered if I asked. Anyway!! All that talk about seagulls that session got me thinking "Seagull. Trash Hunter. Trash Hunter seagull." this is an accurate depiction of how I think Always. So yeah I drew them as a seagle (<- that's how I prefer writing seagull) and I was like hell yes let's draw them as more silly things because I focus better when I draw!

So I started asking people for ideas.

Goblet Hunter

And this is officially were I lost it I think. I mean, I learned to disregard canon with this. I have a few different Little Guys as I call them, and they're definitely not canon at all, BUT THEY'RE SO CUUUUTE HELLO!!! 😭😭 I asked my DND buddy to give me a random item and so I drewed this bc they said goblet....... I fucking love these so much honestly

Soup Hunter

I love soup. What more is there to say? They call me the soup enjoyer. I switch in whenever we're about to have soup. I soup my faves. I spam the soup emoji (🥣) when I get too excited for words. It had to be done! It just had to! If you want you can imagine the soup is garbage soup. Or you know those witch potions a lot of people made as a child? Using acorns and grass and flowers and whatever you could find? Could be that too. Or maybe it's brogle soup becos it's my fave and they are my fave :)

Perfectly Generic Object Hunter / PGO Hunter

It had to come eventually. The Homestuck reference. My friend said for me to make them cube and I was like "I heard Homestuck, yes? Homestuck it is."

So yeha they're a green cube now :3

Egg Hunter

They're an egg now. They're just a huge fucking egg and they roll around. They just roll around.

I'm not allowed to add more images hold your horses for the reblog, I'll get image IDs done before I post this though so next reblog should be up in not all that long

[ironjeonss]

wowww so they have this kind of scene.. i'm waiting would they be end game?🤭

[rollerska8er]

there's a clear delineation between the liberal "left" which had convinced itself there would be an era of peace and plenty after harris inevitably won (which she didn't) and the left which had from the outset acknowledged harris's status as a class enemy who had a pretty even chance of losing (which she did).

i'm not saying this to finger wag per se, i'm just pointing out that all the mistakes of 2016 are already being repeated and people are pointing the finger at the left for somehow causing the democrats to catastrophically haemorrhage eight million of the votes they got in 2020 instead of admitting that their candidate adopted essentially hillary clinton's political aesthetic with an obama finish and lost badly because of it.

had she won, very little would materially have changed and voters could see that; trump was the change candidate and promised a better deal for people struggling to afford groceries. his policies will almost certainly fuck the US economy even more (to say nothing of the global economy) but the democrats ran on high-minded and uninspiring ideals rather than the nitty-gritty stuff the left has been BEGGING them to run on for almost a decade now.

america probably doesn't want trump on the whole - the dude's approval ratings are still dogshit - but they didn't want kamala either. the lesson to take from this, of course, is that maybe the opposition party should embrace the left since it's already being attacked as the party of creeping socialism.

unfortunately, i imagine that in 2028 it'll be someone like Josh Shapiro or, fuck it, why not Harris again, who runs and they'll lose again, because the democratic party is committed to never learning from its failures, and the crowing liberal pundits currently blaming the 0.4% of people who voted Green Party for this loss are just as committed to never considering their own ideology maybe doesn't work that well.

(of course, more broadly, electoral politics are terrible and the american system of democracy is a fucking joke but i don't have the time or patience to get into proportional representation and direct democracy with people who earnestly believe green party voters are Nazis right now)

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

"Vote for Kamala Harris because it'll piss Hillary off" "Vote for Kamala Harris because imagine how Hillary will feel if she wins?"

Um. How about vote for Harris because it'll piss trump off? How about vote for Harris because of how Trump will feel if she wins? You know, the person Harris is ACTUALLY competing against? What kind of person is more motivated by the thought of Hillary's hurt feelings over that of Trump's hurt feelings if Harris wins? Who says to themselves "man, my hatred for Trump and the thought of his reaction to Harris winning isn't enough of a motivator for me to vote for her... But I will absolutely vote for Harris if it means Hillary will be hurt over it"

Like. That is straight up misogyny. If the thought of Trump, an evil and dangerous man, winning the election is not enough of a motivator to get off your ass and vote but the thought of hurting Hillary---who may also be a bad person but CERTAINLY not as bad as Trump---is, I'm sorry to say that you're just straight up a misogynist

[onnahu]

So like Bruce/Batman is super overdramatic. Like we know it. Reather than going to therapy he decided to dress up as a bat and beat up criminals so that they go into coma. And beside, I know that him taking on a bat fursona is because of his fear of them or whatever, but he could be effective with a demon mask or something. But no! He has to be dramatic, and take on that cute-ass animal and make it feard by everyone, because if he's scared of bats, than everybody else have to too.

And they're so cute!

But. The thing is, vigilatism, heroism, villainism, it's all a bit overdramatic. So all of his gaggle of children are dramatic too. But like, it's an unnecessary flip there, and insulting criminals by puns there, not going all emo and 'I am vengance, I am justice yada yada'.

Also, how he's just always towards the JL. He won't tell them anything, he's gonna keep his cards close and let them have the littlest he can. And like he'll make everything as dramatic as it can be. Like there was that scene in the JL cartoon if I remember correctly, where GL was irritating him (as per usual), and Batman, instead of talking back or ignoring him, stole his rong and was like 'at least i can do shit without a piece of alien jewlery'. It's dramatic as fuck! Like, you didn't had to do that, man!

And that way, I came to Jason freaking Todd, who looked at that man and said 'I can do everything he did better'. So he went on his little 'RH is better Batman than Batman ever was yada yada' rampage, and then made Bruce's overdramaticness look like a preeschoolers tantrum. He went all in.

His name? Red Hood? It may look unoriginal, taking the same method to choosing name as Bruce, but it's just perfect dramatic irony. Bruce don't know how Jason chose his name, but he does and it's all for shit and giggles, so that he'll havea breakdown when he'll find out RH's identity.

And if we're on it. His whole identity reveal, confrontation with Joker shit? It was planned. He was practicing his monologue for a moth every night before bed.

And the Titans Tower. Like, I don't really like that, but that horryfyingly-hillarious image of Jayson in Robin suit? It's priceless. I've seen those posts where people were like 'did he buy it on etsy? Sex shop? Or maybe he did it with his own two hands for three months straight so it'll look perfect?', and it's always so funny.

He decided that he's gonna outrun Bruce in every category there is, and he almost succeed. He failed, bc he doesn't have a gaggle of children running after him. (Unless you count Generation Outlaw when he had his little team to train and it was super cool. Maybe he did beat Bruce at it. They went on their own at least and aren't that traumatised by him as every batkid is by Bruce, so...)

[mariacallous]

I hate the strain of thinking thats like "Trump should be easy to beat!" there for if we don't beat him or are struggling its a sign there's a problem with us and if we just dump Hillary or dump Biden and pick literally any one else it'll magically be easy

no guys 45% of the country wants fascism and there's at least 4% who are willing to support it with not much convincing

no matter who, they'll have a hard time because of that.

I think it's more that 45% of the country would be okay with fascism, but otherwise yes.