#whatever I hate rich people I hope they all get what they deserve

[wingscreation]

Ohhhhhhhh I'm so angry rn my head hurts. I hate rich people so bad with my entirety

[algae-tm]

LOVE STORY

Max Verstappen x Author!Reader

Author’s Note: IM BACK!! To put things into perspective, I started this smau when Alex’s insta was still private! Tbh I started writing it cause I like love her, I can’t call her mother cause she’s like a month older than me, but that’s cousin right there. Anyways sorry for the hiatus i was spiralling due to a man 😔😔 it happens to the baddest bitches, and also sort of writers block so pls give me requests! But to make up for the fact that I’ve been gone, this fic is fat as fuck so enjoy

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alexandrasaintmleux just posted

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 300,000 others

alexandrasaintmleux: gorgeous gorgeous girls are published authors!!!! y/n, y/n! I remember when you used to force me to read when I wanted to play princesses and now you’ve written a goddam book!!! In awe of u 📕🥰🥰

(tagged y/nreads)

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yn.reads : ALEXXXX!! my gorgeous sister! I couldn’t have done it without you!! Love you endlessly!

— user1 : wait r they sisters???!!

— user5 : no! hope this helps.

— user6 : pls use your brain

— user7 : they’ve known eachother forever! y/n moved to Monaco when she was 4, so they refer to eachother as sisters.

charles_leclerc: bravo y/n! Well deserved

maxverstappen1: 👏🏻👏🏻

— user43: 🤨🤨

— user10: wait do they know eachother?

— user15: not as far as i know…

— user12: Max doesn’t even follow Alex, why is he here?

— user17: interesting 🤭🤭

— alexandrasaintmleux: very interesting…

yn.reads just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, maxverstappen1 and 110,000 others

yn.reads: @alexandrasaintmleux thank you for letting me shake ass on your yacht, and cosplay as a rich monegasque while doing it! Your support has meant the world to me, you’re the reason Everything I Know About Love was written, cause you have taught me everything I know about love, friendship, life! You can purchase my book in just under a week guys!!

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alexandrasaintmleux: I’m so proud of you baby xx

— yn.reads: i love you so much alex, i had to write 124,567 words to express it

— alexandrasaintmleux: 🥹🥹

—charles_leclerc: am i intruding on something?

— yn.reads: yes!

user12: no but Alex and y/n’s friendship is literally my favourite thing

user11: is y/n not a rich monegasque?

— user10: she’s not even from Monaco, and she grew up with a single mum who I’m p sure just has a normal job so no

user14: not y/n using Alex for her money

— yn.reads: do y’all never get tired? Or is hating on the internet like your job?

— user14: no I have an actual job you should try it sometime…

— yn.reads: girl???? I just wrote a book?????

maxverstappen1 : I will read this book

— yn.reads: thank you max verstappen, current f1 champion

— user16: 🤨🤨🤨

— alexandrasaintmleux: what am I witnessing rn

— yn.reads: 🙃🙃

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yn.reads just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, maxverstappen1, lewishamilton and 770,000 others

yn.reads: BOOKLAUNCHBOOKLAUNCHBOOKLAUNCH

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lewishamilton: 👏🏾👏🏾

— yn.reads: WHAT THE FRICK LEWISHAMILTON??? What are you doing here??????!!

— alexandrasaintmleux: girl you good??

— yn.reads: am I good?? AM IGOOD?? Lewis freaking Hamilton knows I exist!!!

— charles_leclerc: please stop embarrassing me in front of my coworkers

— yn.reads: kick rocks leclerc

pierregasly: well done, me and kika already have our copies

— yn.reads: 🥺🥺 thank you pear and kiks

alexandrasaintmleux: so proud of you mon ange

— yn.reads: I love you so much alex

— user12: their friendship is so cute I can’t

— yn.reads: friendship?? We’re lovers!

— user12: wait are you actually???

— charles_lecelrc: NO

— yn.reads: don’t be jealous sharl

charles_leclerc: well done I guess

— yn.reads: thank you I guess

— alexandrasaintmleux: aww my two favourite people getting along ❤️🥺🥺

— user12: I need my doctor to prescribe me whatever the fuck Alex is on EXPEDITIOUSLY

user14: girl no one gives a fuck about your book launch, we want to know wtf happened at the after party??!

—user15 wait, did I miss something what happened?

— user14: it’s all over social media but it starts with max and ends in verstappen

maxverstappen1: simply lovely

— user14: well well well

— user15: and she didn’t even interact with his comment

— user14: very interesting…

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maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by yn.reads, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc and 4,178,940 others

maxverstappen1: I’ve got a NYT bestselling author teaching me how to read

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charles_leclerc: I made this happen everyone! It was me! I did it!

— yn.reads: yes well done percy, we’re well aware

— user12: wait a minute Charles did something nice for y/n?

— user14: my moneys on the fact he was just trying to get rid of her so he could spend time with Alex

— charles_leclerc: what if i told you im a mastermind 😎

yn.reads: it isn’t much but it’s honest work 😔

— danielricciardo: has he learnt his abc’s??

— yn.reads: just about he gets stuck on x, it’s a very difficult letter

— danielricciardo: happens to the best of us 😞

— yn.reads: @/danielricciardo hey I actually have a question for you??

— maxverstappen1: NO!! Y/N DO NOT ASK UR QUESTION

— yn.reads: ☹️☹️

user16: is this a hard launch??

— user14: Idek anymore 😭

— user17: like knowing y/n she might actually just be giving him reading lessons

— maxverstappen1: guys of course I can actually read

— user16: yeah sure you can! That’s the spirit!

yn.reads: I bagged the baddest bitch y’all

—maxverstappen1: 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️💅🏼💅🏼

— alexandrasaintmleux: I thought I was the baddest bitch???

— yn.reads: oh my god… OH MY GOD, I didn’t think this through… @/maxverstappen1 what do you think of a throuple??

— maxverstappen1: NO

— charles_leclerc: NO

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TAGLIST

@forevercaffeinated-lee

@callsignwidow

@a-beaverhausen

@emryb

@c0deincrazy

@dontworryaboutitokie

@c-losur3

@chuxk-lerclerk

@silkenthusiasts

@ietss

@sp1rl

[ynbabe]

Cute situations w/ f1 drivers- ep2. part 2

Asking the drivers if they 'wanna nap?'

PT-1 w/Charles, Carlos, Lando, Oscar, George, Lewis, Lance & Fernando

Max

You had just gotten off the phone with your mother, so obviously tears were stinging your eyes and the urge to punch a wall was getting stronger by the minute. Unfortunately, you weren't the only one dealing with less-than-loving parents.

"But that's not fair, no one's perfect, I've won five out of eight races," He yelled into the phone to a louder voice responding from the other end. Max looked defeated, with red under his eyes and hair sticking up where he dragged his hands through it.

"No, I didn't fucking let them win, it's their job too," he stood right by the door, slamming it behind him, "Whatever, bye," he cut the call, standing still for a few seconds, glaring at his phone, knowing him debating between throwing it at a wall or stomping on it.

"Wanna nap?" You asked him, setting your phone on the coffee table and letting yourself fall face first on to the hotel bed. Max followed suit, one arm over your waist.

“Damn, can you imagine if we swapped places as kids?” You thought out loud as sleep neared making Max scoff.

He turned to you and in a dead serious tone replied, “Y/n/n, you’d be a serial killer and I’d probably be in jail, now let me sleep, you’re warm,” The man’s response was screech worthy, making you want to smack him but for once, he was right, you were very warm and cuddly and so was he, a fight could wait, sleep was now.

Logan

“LOGAN!” You screamed, knocking on his hotel room door, hoping the man would hurry to answer.

You couldn’t believe the man had launched an entire app without even giving you a hint! You were so proud of him and you couldn’t wait to celebrate. You waited to see his smiling face, knowing you were going to shower him with praises and way too many hugs but when he opened the door, his demeanour was nothing like you had expected.

“Dude didn’t you just launch an app? Why the no good sad face?” You asked as you walked in past him.

He sighed as he sat on his bed, working away at his laptop and a hundred pages spread out. You couldn’t help but frown.

“Logan, Logan,” you called out, ultimately pulling the boys head to face yours, “what the fuck mate, you should be happy right now, what’s wrong?” You asked, disturbed that your happy go lucky, it is what it is friend was so sullen.

“The cars fucked, I have no future, my team fucking hates me, my best and only friend literally never talks to me and I feel like a fucking failure,” he went of on you, slamming his laptop shut making you flinch.

You stared unimpressed at his little charade to keep you away, unfortunately you had grown up with the man and knew his tantrums and breakdowns, “First of all, your only friend? What am I chopped liver? Secondly, James Vowles can fuck off for all I care, you deserve so much better then that ratchet ass team, thirdly you just launch your own app, need I go on?” You presented embodying your inner George Russell as you picked Logan’s laptop and papers off his bed.

“But still-” his face was still down and he continued to doubt himself.

“Look,” you say next to him, holding his hand in yours, “it’s been a tough few years, not gonna lie, but you’re going to pull through cause you are one of the most talented people I know,” you squeezed his hand, “also you can’t give up because you promised you’d get rich and pay for everything.” You shrugged and pulled him to lay on the bed.

He huffed, smacking a pillow on your face, “so that’s why you’re friends with me? Not my dazzling personality? How could you? This is a betrayal, I’m betrayed,” he joked, finally getting back to his normal self, but you were still worried about him.

You turned to the man enveloping him in your arms, the man immediately returning the favour immediately. You let yourself fall into a comfortable sleep, telling yourself to do this more often.

Daniel

“Hey, are you busy?” Daniel had said softly as he entered your room immediately raising red flags in your mind, never once hand the man been so quiet. You quickly put away your stuff on the night stand patting the spot on the bed next to you to let him sit.

“Yeah, is everything okay? You look tired, Danny,” you asked to nothing but silence from the man. A few seconds passed and you could see how wet his eyes were.

“Dan-”

“I’m so tired y/n/n,” he spoke in a hoarse whisper, scaring you, what did he mean by that? “I’m just, I can’t, I’m doing everything I can and it isn’t enough, I- I,” he tried speaking but he couldn’t without choking.

You tired not to cry with him, the only man you’d always known to be laughing and happy even in the worst of circumstances, keeping everyone’s spirits up was sitting here in front of you, so hopeless.

You didn’t think twice before pulling him in a hug, cradling him as you both sank into a laying position. “You’re tired, mate, let’s take a nap, it’ll be okay Danny, I promise, it’s going to be fine,” you whispered into his hair making him nod.

You felt him drift off as the tears slowed down and you couldn’t help passing out in the warmth either knowing when you wake up you’d find a way to make the man himself again.

Yuki

“Can I please marry you?” You begged for what seemed the tenth time that day much to Yuki’s irritation.

“I am never cooking for you ever again,” he complained falling onto the sofa next to you, watching the sitcom tv rather than paying attention to you.

“Please, you know you loved the tiramisu I made,” you boasted, opening up a button on your shirt to allow you to breath. The amount of food you and Yuki had consumed for individuals of your sizes were seriously guiness worthy.

He whined knowing you had won that argument, “fine but I want the recipe as a wedding gift,” he joked making the both of you laugh.

“Dude I’m ready to go into a food coma for the next ten fucking years,” you confessed, making the man nod in agreement.

“I’ve eaten enough for the next damn week.”

“We should nap,” you spoke out loud, turning to the man next to you, “wanna nap?”

“Yup,” he immediately answered to which you both pounced on either ends of the sofa, shifting into comfortable positions, making sure neither was kicking the other, his legs on the coffee table pulled close to the sofa and yours curled up closed to you.

Pierre

“Fuck me,” you groaned as another one of your projects fell through. You threw your phone on the table in front of you, sighing as you did.

“Do mind if I do,” joked an irritating grating voice from behind you, from your bed, you had honestly forgotten your friend had been there after another pissy fight with his sweetheart teammate.

“Keep talking Gasly, I’ll call Ocon over make it a threesome,” you laughed as you joined him, pushing him to one side to make space.

The man looked honestly disgusted, “I can’t believe you’d stoop low enough to even joke about that, standards babe, standards,” he scoffed looking at you judgementally to which you rolled your eyes.

“Damn I guess we won’t be making love, sad, I was actually going to agree for once, I’ll just ask Estie then” you fake sighed, feigning disappointment, much to the other man’s horror.

“Shut up, Y/n,” he knocked your shoulder with his after he saw your grin, fighting a yawn as you pushed him back.

“Do you wanna nap?” You asked, equally tired and dejected about your failed project, he nodded and pulled the both of you into a more comfortable position, turning in to face you, burying his face in your neck and you let your hand play with his silky blonde locks, falling into a comfortable sleep.

Esteban

“BITCH, YOU WILL NOT BELIVE THE SHIT I’VE JUST SEEN-” you yelled as you ran into Esteban’s driver room, seeing him lying on the makeshift bed.

You immediately jumped in next to him, waking him up in a startle, “MERDE! Y/n?” He yelled in fear and then confusion, looking around as if a swat team had burst in, “what is wrong with you?” He screeched as he pulled his hands over his face in exhaustion, “you’re a worse gossip than Pierre,” he grunted lying back down.

You animatedly threw yourself down next to him, using his arm as a pillow. “I abhor that accusation, actually,” you grumbled but gave in nonetheless, “okay so look at this photo and tell me what you see,” you showed his your phone, a photo you’d gotten out of a greedy paparazzi’s hand as a media control agent in Mercedes.

The man next to you suddenly seemed much more awake, “Is that Nico fucking Rosberg?” He whisper- yelled into your ears, snatching the phone out your hands.

“Yup,” you grinned popping the p, “bought that shit for eleven thousand dollars,” he whistled, “that was taken at 4 am at Lewis’s hotel,” you whispered, turning your body to face his.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, “I thought these were rumours?” He asked gleefully.

“Nope, this isn’t even the first time I’ve had to do damage control,” you sighed, trying to get your phone back but it was pulled away by the taller man.

“You mean there’s gossip you haven’t told me? Your best friend, whose room you’re currently hiding in? Interrupting my nap time?”

“You, Estie, are such a drama queen,” you teased him, pulling your phone out of his hand. “And we can definitely nap, I spent all night trying to convince that asshole to drop the story,” you kept you phone in your pocket as Esteban made himself comfortable, both of you letting yourselves rest after the tiring day you had.

Zhou

“How are you not broke?” The man yelled in astonishment as he saw at the amount of bags in the Prada assistants hands, choosing to ignore his own in another’s, he was allowed to spend he technically was a millionaire, even without his family and sponsors.

You looked at him with raised brows as you opened the doors your apartment building, you and Zhou both owning the penthouses, yours above his.

You let the men drop the bags off on your floor, keeping Zhou waiting, making him annoyed to your amusement. When the men finally left you simply answered, “Samsung shares.”

Zhou groaned “Spoilt child,” and headed into the guest suite as you headed into your room, “look whose talking I have my own assistant at the mall,” you called out behind you. That had been funny, the man followed Zhou to every shop, holding the bags you both collected till you needed another.

You both walked out and showed each other the clothes and accessories you had bought, occasionally swapping one or two. As the day progressed into late evening you called for food, tired from the little fashion show you had.

“I need a nap,” you groaned, folding your feet as you sat on the dinning table chair.

“My legs are killing me,” Zhou agreed, not only had he had a terrible work out in the morning but you both had covered way more than 10,000 steps in that mall.

“Want to nap?” You offered, knowing very well he could just go a floor below to his own home.

“Sure, turn on screen mirroring on your tv, I’ll show you the drivers chat,” he said heading into your room and you ran behind him with glee.

The gossip was the best part of being friends with Zhou, that and the really warm cuddles he gave, “oh my god, Charles and Max again?” You laughed and leaned on his shoulders as he relayed all the details to you, his voice slowly softening as you both drifted into a peaceful sleep.

[torchickentacos]

Okay, let's fucking go over this, actually! No more quietly throwing my thoughts in tags. If you'd unfollow for this then I don't want you here anyways. Feel free to reblog. Regarding the nonconsensual Taylor Swift AI porn.

1.) it's disgusting to say that sexual harassment was "worth it" if legislation gets passed because of the harassment. I see your sentiment, I know we all want more control over how AI can and cannot be used. We can hope for change after this, yes. But it's still awful to say that an incredibly public, graphic image of a gang rape was "worth it". Assault and harassment should not have to be 'productive', or have an 'end goal', to warrant the utmost compassion and empathy towards the victim. It's abhorrent to say that someone's humiliation, pain, violation of privacy and consent, was worth it. Even if we got ai images fully regulated immediately. That's not worth it.

Sexual harassment cannot, and never will be, 'worth it'.

2.) it's disgusting to see that the response to this is "I don't like her, but-", or "fuck taylor swift, but-", or "I hate her and swifties, but-". Not sure what compels people to see a woman who just got, call it what it is, SEXUALLY HARASSED ON A GLOBAL SCALE, and to then immediately chronicle the ways they hate her before giving some weak and vague call to action towards swifties. We get it. You hate her. Might as well kick her while she's down because images of her being gang raped just got circulated, huh? Nobody's asking you to like her, but TIME and PLACE, my friends. If you're going to hate her to a weirdly involved and passionate degree, do it maybe not in the tags of posts showing support to her right now.

3.) it's disgusting to see that people think this is not a big deal because she's rich, or because of the airplane thing, or whatever your gripe with her is that I'm sure I'll hear about in the tags anyways. Buddy, she could be the poorest person on earth or the richest. She could be an angel or a devil, does not fucking matter. What matters is that this should not happen to ANYONE, regardless of literally any demographic or status you can throw at them. Consent is nonnegotiable, no matter who's the one giving it or not. The worst person in the entire world deserves to have their consent and basic human dignity respected. Yes, even that person. Morality is not some flexible thing you only give to people you like or agree with. And if it is, I question just how moral your morality really is.

Again. Feel free to reblog.

[stellar-skyy]

I JUST DESPISE YOU - Heizou x reader

i. SUMMARY: There is no one you hate more than Shikanoin Heizou. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: None! iii. NOTES: Enemies to lovers, detective!reader, gn!reader, 0.8k words. iv. A/N: Okay I know Heizou doesn't canonically wear nail polish but HE SHOULD HE DESERVES IT.

Shikanoin Heizou was, without any trace of doubt, the easiest person to hate.

How could you not hate him, with his smooth words laced with subtle smugness, like he always knew something that you didn’t; with the way he picked apart your theories until they were completely frayed apart by his ‘intuition’?

And how could you not hate that delicately crafted face, all soft features artfully arranged like a priceless work of art? His eyes, that were big and doe-like, the softest shade of olive green that you’ve ever laid eyes on. And underneath them, twin moles that dotted across his face, beauty marks in the truest sense of the word.

His hair was especially hateable, with how it loosely hung in choppy layers and framed his face, in a shade of beautifully rich wine-red. And of course it was pulled behind him, hanging across the back of his neck, just waiting to be untied and spilled across his shoulders.

More than anything, you hate the way he stared at you with those piercing eyes of his; how he always met your gaze with a hint of a challenge in his smirk, and a huff of laughter every time he managed to get under your skin.

(How he looked at you gently, with the barest flicker of reverence reflected across his eyes, staring at you like you were a puzzle box just waiting to be solved.)

“Quiz time,” Heizou croons, leaning forward in his chair. He rests his elbows against the desk and cups his cheek in his hands, rhythmically tapping along his cheek in pattern only he seemed to understand. “Why is my dear co-worker looking so sour today?”

You let out a sigh. “I am fine.”

“Mm, but my intuition tells me something is on your mind. And you know what they say—” Heizou’s smile widens minutely. “—My intuition is never wrong.”

“You say that.”

“Other people say that too.”

You don’t bother that with a retort, only scoffing in disbelief. Heizou’s face shifts into a frown, and he moves his arms to rest folded across his chest.

“They do. See—” He raises his voice, calling over to another detective across the room. “Hey, Uesugi. Is my intuition ever wrong?”

“No, sir!”

“Exactly.”

“So you have a fanboy. Big deal. That doesn’t mean you don’t make mistakes.”

“Shall we put that to the test, then?” Heizou asks. He stands; pausing to stretch his arms, exposing the barest sliver of skin around his waist. “Let’s see~”

Heizou approaches your desk, surveying its contents. For a second you wonder if you would be able to sweep away the junk lying across it, if only to avoid Heizou’s scrutiny. “Messy. Messier than usual.”

“This is how it always looks—”

“Lie.”

You scowl at him, hoping that your irritation makes him reconsider whatever game he’s playing. It, of course, does not.

“You also came in late today. When you did finally arrive, you were flustered, like you were in a rush before you left.” He recounts.

“I slept in.”

“Lie.” Heizou hums. “You’ve been late because you overslept before, and you’ve never been that on edge. Something happened that caused you to be late, but it wasn’t your sleeping habits. There is something in your life—something personal that you don’t want to share. Now, I know not to pry, so I’m not going to ask you what is wrong. But I do know for a fact that there is something wrong.”

“That 'evidence' is all circumstantial.” You protest. “It doesn’t prove anything.”

“Ah, but that brings me to the final piece of evidence—” Before you could blink, he was right in front of you. One hand—a smooth, uncalloused hand with nails painted black—reaches out and cups your cheek. His touch is light, barely ghosting across your skin, as he uses the tip of his finger to brush across the space underneath your eye.

“The shadows under your eyes are very dark. You haven’t slept in days, have you?” Heizou’s voice is quiet, and sounds startlingly genuine. Combined with the concern that practically seeped out of his expression, it was enough to send your head spinning and breath tightening in your chest. For a second, it was enough to make you think he wholeheartedly, truly cared for you.

But this was Heizou you were talking about.

Your hand stretches out of its own accord and slaps his away from your face. He looks barely affected by the sudden movement and leans back against his own desk with a satisfied expression.

“So?” Heizou prompts. The uncharacteristically gentle moment was gone, replaced with his usual bravado. “Was I right?”

“I despise you.” You hiss under your breath, rubbing under your eyes to scrub away the feeling of his hands on your face.

Heizou tilts his head, the corner of his mouth ticking upwards into a smirk. “Lie.”

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[cowboyemeritus]

Il Suo Campione (Copia/Reader)

Chapter Eight

Series Masterlist

Summary: Copia learns the horrible truth.

Content Warnings: references to gang violence, drug abuse/addiction, brief mention/description of a corpse

Read on AO3

notes: hey everyone! sorry updates are getting farther apart - i've been having some problems staying motivated. seeing all your support for this story helps, though, so thank you all so much :)

as of right now i'd say this is about the halfway point of the story. i genuinely do want to finish it, so please bear with me while i sort out this writer's block issue.

i feel like there are a few clunky parts of this, but i got to the point where i felt i just needed to publish it lol. sorry in advance. i hope it's somewhat interesting, at least.

a few people have asked to be tagged when new chapters come out, so if you want in on that lmk!

thanks again! feedback is always welcome. you all are the best :)

Copia has struggled to keep you off his mind since the night of the match. The evening’s events had only confirmed his growing suspicion that there is something seriously amiss with you. It’s easy for him to look back and recognize you’ve always been quiet and detached, yet constantly on guard and prone to bouts of explosive rage. Whatever, or whoever, instilled that in you had exited your life long before you met. What is new is the hate he saw reflected in his bedroom mirror, and the shame in your eyes when you lost. From his experience being Nihil’s son, those are feelings with which Copia is intimately familiar. They’re easy for him to recognize and treat accordingly in others. The rest he’ll have to work on.

He ties not to think about the emptiness in your eyes as you watched Diego bleed out on the cold, dirty concrete. Something tells him that’s out of his wheelhouse.

Copia’s cheek is still tender from where Mary had hit him. For the scrawny creature that he is, the greasy punk can sure pack a punch. As much as he wants to drag him through the streets for it, he really should have seen it coming. Mary is the protective type, and Copia certainly didn’t help himself by neglecting to call or make your whereabouts known until the next morning, returning you to your bother concussed, battered, and zoning in and out of reality. Copia knows he deserved it, at least in part.

“You don’t know anything about her!”

Mary is naive; he doesn’t know half of what goes on in the dark recesses of this city. He hasn’t had to make the painful choices, the sacrifices, that keep this kind of business flowing. But, he’s right. Copia has no idea who, or what, you really are. The notion is starting to eat at him.

Heaving out a sigh, he pulls into Secondo’s driveway. The crunch of the gravel under the car makes him nervous; he’s always convinced there will be glass or nails or something sharp waiting in there to fuck up his tires. He holds his breath as he drives up to the house and parks, slowly letting it out only once he’s certain nothing has popped. Stepping out of the car, he looks up at the blocky, brutalist home, a shock of gray against the blue sky and rich green of the surrounding pines. In a very childish part of his mind it looks like some sort of supervillain lair, an ominous thing ready to swallow up all who dare enter. Considering what business-related activities occasionally go on inside, it’s not a far off comparison.

Copia groans. He’s not as bad as Nihil, but Secondo has always been the runner-up for family hard-ass. It’s a product of their childhood, he thinks. Secondo and Terzo were so close in birth they were raised like twins. As they grew up, someone naturally had to balance out the ambitious, reckless energy of the third brother. While he’s no stranger to debauchery, at his core Secondo is a calculating, exacting man, brutally efficient in everything he does. Seldom does he waste time with pleasantries and fluff.

The garage door begins to lift, the racket startling Copia. As the panels slide upwards more and more of his brother is revealed. First, it’s his shoes, fine Italian leather polished to hell. Then, his slacks, starched and pressed like he’s having tea with the Queen. There’s a clean, white dress shirt and then Copia is looking Secondo in the face. He doesn’t appear as put together as he usually is, something a bit haggard about him. The creases under his eyes are deeper, a dusting of stubble across his jaw. From behind him two men appear, each holding the end of a large mass wrapped in sheets. As they pass by him, carrying the bundle out of the house, Copia instinctively knows that Diego will be resting in peace from now on.

“Come in.” It’s not quite a command, but not an invitation either. Copia would have preferred a “hello.” Sheepishly, he follows as his brother turns and walks briskly to the door separating the garage from the rest of the house. It’s a short journey. As with all of Secondo’s things, the space is staggeringly neat, no boxes of junk colonizing the floor like at his home. He glances over at one of the parked cars, a 55 Coronet, and smiles to himself, remembering when it was new. It had been bright red back then. Secondo’s face had been a similar shade as he sat in the back seat, knuckles white while Primo gave Copia his first driving lesson. With every jerk of the vehicle a new vein appeared on his forehead, Terzo lauging harder and harder until he’d nearly pissed himself. They went to the creek after that, Copia battling nausea from a cigarette, his first, that he’d bummed off his third brother. That had been a good day.

At some point in the 60s, Secondo had the coat changed to black. By the 70s, it had been involved in so many crimes he’d stopped driving it altogether, the plates removed and shredded. Now here it sits, gathering dust, a relic of more innocent times. As Copia crosses the threshold into the house, he finds he’s not smiling anymore.

Despite his home’s harsh exterior, Secondo is a man of taste. A sensualist. His decor reflects that, all dark leather and silk, shelves lined with antiques and souvenirs from his travels. His office, however, is the only room that actually looks lived in. It wouldn’t be a surprise to Copia if he slept in there. There’s very little in the way of mess, but with a trained eye, he easily picks out the hints of disorder that are hidden around the room like Easter eggs: crumpled wads of paper on the floor by the wastebasket, a coffee cup perched precariously on the windowsill, the contents long cold. The decorative pillows on the couch could use a good fluffing, and there’s a quilt, the once colorful fabric faded, folded haphazardly and draped over the back. Maybe he has been sleeping here.

Secondo clears his throat, putting an end to Copia’s scavenger hunt. He looks across the desk at his brother, suddenly feeling like a child again. From the expression on his face it’s clear he’s in for a scolding. Copia holds back a groan, crossing his ankles and tucking them beneath his chair. He’d better get this over with.

“Is this about what happened the other night? I don’t have any details other than-“

“The girl,” Secondo says. “This is about her.” Copia is stunned. For a moment he stares at his brother, blinking, before even trying to open his mouth.

“I-” Suddenly he feels a bit flustered. “What- The fight? I know w- she lost, but…“ His underarms are uncomfortably sweaty. Terzo said he’d work on it. Perhaps he’d been drunk that night after all, the bastard. “What did you think?”

“She is far too attached to you. That is what I think.” Copia is taken even farther aback.

“Excuse me,” he sputters, quirking an eyebrow at his brother. “But I do not understand why that’s any of your business. Do Primo and Terzo’s,” for a moment he’s stuck on what to call you, “associates need your approval now too?”

Secondo rolls his eyes. “This is different,” he insists. “She is different.” Copia can’t meet his brother’s gaze, eyes darting to the window. Outside, a small, gray bird perches on a branch, preening its feathers. It looks up suddenly before taking flight, a blur of brown and white in pursuit. Copia swallows, crossing his arms.

“There is nothing wrong with that, fratello,” he grumbles, not sure how much he can defend you beyond that. He knows what his brother really means. But is this what he called him here for? To critique his choice in women? “And you’ve had your fair share of weird girls-“ He jumps when Secondo bangs a fist on the solid wood of the desk.

“Fucking Christ.” For a moment, there is something unreadable, but deeply frightening, in his eyes. He lets out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. The tension in the room is palpable, thick like tar and just as foul. Wordlessly, Secondo rises from his seat, shuffling over to a beat-up, old filling cabinet in the corner of the room. Flecked with rust, it is, perhaps, the only common-looking thing he owns. From his pocket he produces a set of keys that clink together as he unlocks one of the drawers. Copia can just barely see that it is full of documents, organized into neat folders. Carefully, he reaches into one of the files and produces what appears to be a newspaper clipping. He looks back and forth between Copia and the paper for a moment, the conflict surprisingly plain on his face. With another heavy exhale Secondo settles back in his chair, placing the slip face-down on the desk. With a look that says “I told you so,” he slides it over. Copia takes a shaky breath, feeling his brother’s eyes bore into him. Leaning slightly forward in his seat, he gingerly turns it over.

He’s confused by what he sees.

The cutting is of a portrait, taken in a department store studio. There are two people in it. One is a man in his early thirties. His face has a gauntness that immediately tells Copia he’s a user, his skin pale and slightly jaundiced. He smiles but his eyes are tired, the creases around them deep and the circles dark. He’s strung out, only just holding himself together for the sake of the little girl next to him. As his eyes drift over to the child, who cannot be older than four or five, Copia feels his blood turn to ice.

Even twenty years younger, the girl in the photo is unmistakably you. He would recognize that face anywhere. Still, it takes a moment for him to fully process exactly what he’s staring at. That smile… You look too innocent, too happy to be, well, you. Whoever this is, she is a copy, a sick fabrication of the person you could have been. It’s just not right. It’s uncanny.

“I don’t…” Copia tugs at the collar of his shirt, finding he’s in desperate need of oxygen. As the pieces begin to click together, a knot of dread settles deep in his stomach. “Why do you have this?” Secondo sits there with his arms crossed, eyes full of more emotion than he has seen from his brother in a long time. There’s anger, pity, and shame there. Copia says nothing; he already has half the answer anyway. “W-what…” Unable to find the words he sighs, letting the breath out slowly. A few strands of hair have fallen in his face and he brushes them back, steeling himself. With a look to his brother that he hopes conveys resolve he straightens in his chair. “Tell me. The whole story.”

Without breaking eye contact, Secondo pushes his readers further up his nose. When that hand comes down the tip of his pointer finger is resting on the forehead of the man in the photograph. “One of ours. Started dealing to pay back some debts. I am not sure who he owed, or for what. I never knew him personally.” There’s a moment of understanding, an unspoken agreement between the two brothers. They don’t know, but they know. It’s too familiar a story, one Copia has heard hundreds of times to the point where he’s sick of it.

And yet, the show goes on. The coffers must always be full.

“He tried to make a deal and it went sour. Nearly got us busted. Fuck, I have never seen Nihil so pissed.” A memory resurfaces: his father, fists still shaking, setting down a pair of bloody brass knuckles on the breakfast table. They never managed to get the stain out of that tablecloth. “The numbers were already suspicious. It did not take us long to find that he had been skimming off the top for his own use. He stole from us, fratellino.” In this line of work, that’s enough to justify almost anything. Secondo glances back down at the photograph. “So we did what had to be done. Those were father’s orders.”

There is a long moment of silence between them. Copia is reeling, still trying to make sense of this devastating information. This can’t be. This has to be some cruel joke. He looks down at his hands. They’re far too clean. A disturbing thought crosses his mind. “She was there?” Secondo shrugs.

“We did not see her.” An even worse thought rears its head.

“If she…” He swallows, not wanting to accuse his brother but needing an answer. “Would you have… You know.”

Secondo shakes his head, gazing out the window. The disgust bleeds through even the most minute shifts of his face. “No. Not for anything. And certainly not for Nihil.” Copia feels his shoulders drop but is still on edge. His brother is never this forthcoming and it’s overwhelming. It’s all too much.

“I see,” he says, feeling a little sick. We made her this way. Before he can stop himself the image of you lying on that old boxing mat, confused and hurt, flashes through his mind. You had told him you were sorry. Whether he wants to laugh or cry at the cruel irony of that he doesn’t know.

This is all my fault.

“Does the old man know?”

“No,” Secondo grunts. “And he never will. But the girl has to go.” Copia is stunned, then enraged.

"I won't let you touch her."

Secondo waves him off. "I meant she should skip town."

“Still, why?” The anger returns to his brother’s face.

“Vengeance, Copia. What would she do if she were to find out the truth? She may already know. For all we know, she could be feeding information to the Giordanos as we speak. That would certainly explain why all our fucking product is going missing.” The insinuation lights a spark inside of Copia.

“You think I don’t know the people who work for me? That I share Family secrets for pillow talk?” He scoffs, crossing his arms. “I haven’t told her anything about the business. She is innocent in all of this.”

“Then all the more reason why she must go. You will get her killed, if she does not kill you first.” Logically, Copia knows he’s right, but the implication that he can’t protect himself, that he’s become your unwitting fool, just makes him feel like a child. If he had wanted that, he would have gone to Nihil. And there’s another, deeper part of him that knows he can’t abandon you now. Not after what his family — what he — has done to you. His heart aches at the thought, despair beginning to take root. He has to make this right, but how? How do you even begin to repair damage like that? It seems like an impossible task.

“Why would you tell me this,” he mutters, still staring at the beaming little girl in the photograph. He can’t recall ever seeing you smile. Have you even felt happiness since that day?

“Because we are family. I have an obligation to protect you.”

Copia grunts, angry and sad and ashamed. He glares up at his brother. “When has that ever mattered?” Secondo furrows his eyebrows.

“It has always mattered.”

For a moment, Copia forgets himself. “Where was that rhetoric when Terzo-” He stops, pressing his lips together. Across from him, Secondo sits silently, but there is the faintest trace of hurt in his eyes. Copia wants nothing more than to curl up and vanish, to turn into a little bug and crawl away. “I’m sorry, I-“

“That is all I had to say,” Secondo states, unwavering. “I strongly suggest you take my advice. You can be on your way.” Copia knows it’s not a suggestion. Nodding, he rises from his chair. Secondo stays seated, skimming over one of the papers littering his desk, no longer paying him any mind. He doesn’t bother saying goodbye, mind racing as he sees himself out of the house.

When Copia gets back in his car he sits there a while, his head in his hands.

[sunder-the-gold]

Good to see a White enjoyer on this blog. I’m so sick of edgelord Nietzsche wannabes defending Black on the grounds of it being “anti-authoritarian” or whatever.

They don't like being held to a standard, so they have to confuse the issue of what a standard even is.

What they want to ignore and conceal is that being a rebel doesn't make you anti-authoritarian. It only means you aren't currently in charge and you don't like whoever is currently in charge.

Shiv Palpatine was a rebel against the old Republic. Not because he thought it was oppressive, but only because it stood in his way of oppressing other people as Emperor Darth Sidious.

There's no one more rebellious than an authoritarian. An anarchist could live peacefully as a hermit, but an authoritarian will not rest until they have at least one other creature to dominate and abuse.

Misery loves company, and authoritarians are miserable.

Authoritarians are quicker than anyone else to scream and cry if their rights and freedoms are threatened or taken away. Because they cannot accept the idea of enduring a personal hardship for the sake of someone else, or trusting that an authority figure needs to lead them through an unpleasant storm to reach a peaceful haven.

But as much as they jealously guard their own freedoms, authoritarians will instantly turn around and claim the people they hate deserve no such rights, and that any society which protects those rights is oppressive because it protects the people they hate and doesn't allow the authoritarian to abuse them with impunity.

White is the Color that desires Peace. By definition, those who gravitate towards Red and Black don't know the meaning of the word "peace". They have no peace in their lives, and Black in particular hates seeing it in the lives of others.

Search for the word "Jealous" and the only card you find is Black. "Covet" returns mostly Black. "Glutton", "Greed", "Hatred", "Spite", "Nihilism", "Torture", dementia, sickness, disease, pain, horror, terror...

There's no peace or love or healthiness or hope in any of that. Only a gaping, howling void with an insatiable appetite. The antithesis of peace. Black can only feel joy through sadism.

I don't know if I could find it again, but I legitimately saw a post on this website that claimed Black was the Color of Hope.

Black includes cards like Abandon Hope, Dash Hope, Eater of Hope, Hopeless Nightmare, Lose Hope, Hope's Demise, Thief of Hope...

Yeah, I don't think Black is on SPEAKING terms with Hope.

Meanwhile, White has Adherents of Hope, Angels of Hope, Avatars of Hope, Enduring Hope, Blazing Hope, Dawn of Hope, Emissary of Hope, Kindler of Hope, Font of Hope, Heron of Hope, Hope Against Hope, Hope Charm...

True to form, Black is a parasite and thief that wants to steal what White creates, and take credit for it, while accusing White of Black's crimes so Black can slip away into the night.

They want to claim they care about other people and White doesn't, but which Color provides spells of healing and protection, and which Color can only steal away the life of others?

Black is at best an anti-hero. When Black is the protagonist, it is the villain-protagonist, or it is heroic only by comparison to a more villainous antagonist.

If White isn't the most heroic Color in the Pie, then heroism loses all meaning.

Which is something that Overly Sarcastic Productions touches on when they say that a superhero universe without a (pure White) character like Superman just doesn't work.

We don't need fictional universes like The Boys to see what the world would be like if superhumans were assholes, because we live in that kind of world right now, at the mercy of the rich and the powerful who either don't care if they step on us or who get their jollies by hurting us.

We need a Superman, or a Spider-Man, or a Luke Skywalker, or some other incorruptible, pure-hearted, well-intentioned, and wise force for GOOD in a world to give us Hope for Peace.

We need WHITE.

“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot."

In the days before refrigerators, salt was white gold. Salt was the dependable agent of preservation and disinfection. The expensive substance that use you to protect scarce, life-saving foods from becoming spoiled garbage.

The Hazbin Hotel-ification of the Color Pie and all similar media is taking the salt out of the kitchen, throwing it out on the ground, trampling it underfoot, and then wondering why all of the food STINKS.

[wack-ashimself]

John Oliver taught me new things on student loans debt.

1-last summer, biden did try a small bail out for student debt. The supreme court OVER TURNED IT. I hate our supreme court. Entirely. Hope they all retire, by choice or force. They work 100% EXCLUSIVELY for the rich.

2-Old people are going into debt. So...when I was a kid going into college, I was furious my parents refused to cosign on my college loans. At 38, I AM SO GLAD they didn't. They were rigged! It would have FUCKED THEM out of retirement, and THEY DESERVED TO RETIRE; they're so happy. In the show, he shows a guy who paid his kid's loans from 2004....and they wouldn't be paid off till 2040!!!!

3-I guess there's low income payments. See, I knew of the 10 year program: make regular, consistent, semi large payments for 10 years, NEVER MISSING A ONE, and whatever your debt was is forgiven (however, if you missed ONE PAYMENT, I am not exaggerating, you're fucked forever). But I guess there's another one, same premise, but for 20+ years (show hinted 25 years!), where you get a TINY payment and, after 2 decades, all is forgiven. Here's the problem: of the 2 MILLION people who qualified recently, only 32 (literally 32) actually got it forgiven. What the ever loving fuck!?

4-We all knew these federal loan programs were garbage, but, intentional or not, debt services 'forgot' or were late on mailing out bills, and over 800,000 people were late on payments due to it. THAT IS MALICIOUS!

5-So the last summer biden dismissal of student loan forgiveness had ads against it. It was ironic. Cuz first it said don't forgive rich people's loans, when, logically, historically, rich people don't HAVE loans for college cuz their parents pay for it. DUH. Secondly, it was mocking theater degrees....with actors paid to play 'regular' people hating on theater degrees. Like, irony squared.

5-He pointed out how we can have tax payers pay for stadiums not everyone uses, but we can't forgive student loans?

6-Oliver, like normal, jerked off the government anyways at the end. He does this EVERY FUCKING SHOW. 'The government/the rich/the media are to blame for everything, but I promise they will get it right THIS time if we just give them patience and power.' I fucking hate his sell out ass in that regard. He never demands immediate action from us; trust those who originally cause the problems to fix them. Dumbass. I watch cuz he is informative, but he is a sell out too.

7-As I said on other posts, forgiving ALL major debt (public/personal) would ONLY fuck the banks who WE BAILED OUT, so they owe us anyways. PERIOD.

8-I know this is me watching too much of this show, but I could tell, by his tone alone, he was going to say they were off next week. Serious.

[misterbitches]

I have mixed feelings about the episode!

If I hadn’t have gone online I would have been more of a blank slate. It’s good to know my criticisms are affirmed by others but it doesn’t mean this show is weak because even with the faults this episode was still entertaining at the very least. I feel crazy! Like some of my issues with the social commentary so far are dealt with—not remediated per se but addressed—or tended to.

The whole marriage thing isn’t a bad scenario typical of a BL imo because it makes sense. Patriarchy has everything to do with the hoarding of wealth. You have to make sure a woman has limited options for offspring to preserve a familial/blood line. Marriage is a business practice (it isn’t final or static but marriage and love are not interchangeable and “love” is a very specific goal that is hard to meet particularly if you are poor) and even if Rosé doesn’t want it, that’s how you secure capital…via legacy and literal financial bonds (presented as familial).

Rosé isn’t a good person. As much as Save is a bitch and Hope is…whatever he is (and agree with the user that said they should have kissed there!) the show is telling us over and over that THESE PEOPLE ARE POOR GUYS. THEY HAVE NO MONEY. I don’t know if the audience understands what that means fully. That means that Tattoo’s actions are not the same as Arun’s or even Joke’s; Jack’s poor decisions aren’t the same as Joke’s; Save is being absolutely insane and fucking ridiculous and wow I hate him but even his decision is not the same. You see how much hospital bills are, not having insurance, INSURANCE LITERALLY BEING TIED TO YOUR JOB AND THE NUCLEAR FAMILY. Things these people do not have, nor should not have to have, and the pains you go through to do everything right so the state says and you still get fucked.

That’s why the whole ~dOn’T sTEaL~ would piss me the fuck off! Jenny’s character makes complete sense! I know this is an easy way for us to express this idea of never being able to “get out” but poverty isn’t actually a cycle. Poverty is man made, it is not real. A cycle suggest something inevitable where an underclass would always have to exist, some sociogenetic defect that you just can’t beat and the cure (money) is just too hard to find (as in made up but never freely given). What makes that cycle relevant? Capitalism. This term has bred such reification i swear. It makes it seem like this is something they can GET OUT OF and BREAK on their own volition (with no direct action against the capitalist class/elites like you know…robbing them)

To be wealthy is to inhibit a class position, a social category, in which your livelihood depends on the subjugation of others. It’s obvious that Boss has limited money—and that dwindles—he relies on his boss. He is a manager, an inbetween, a boss but not The Boss. He is a cop essentially (cops have more autonomy tbh) to literally protect private property and collect and give to his bosses. They’re also all landlords and deserve to die.

Anyway there is no cycle as a real tangible thing one can take control of. There are people who choose their comfort and life over others and exploit to maintain, retain, and gain. ANY type of wealth hoarding is immoral. Richness is immoral.

Every single one of these people who suffer are in this position because of rich people. The monopoly was literal and exaggerated metaphor but rich people HATE and i mean HATE they LOATHE they resent disdain the poor. They hate you. They hate me and I’m not even poor! It is not a (referent-less) cycle! These are deliberate choices being made by others to make sure ppl stay poor—women, children queer ppl, darker ppl, the disabled…

If we focused less on the actions of those who have had to work in service of the pillagers and more on the pillagers and why the FUCK these people do this and get to do it, maybe Jack’s choices would make sense. Yes they are frustrating but I don’t necessarily think this is bad writing considering that Jack’s life could be made a living hell if he “got another job” which…ok but where? Who will hire him? How quickly will he make that money? With what skills when he has one very good one that could be used AND this money could be made immediately?

Are these particular choices stupid or do they exist in a broader story that is unfolding? Obviously this is a tv show beyond bl bc this episode was like completely story related and I enjoyed that. There was def some stuff where i was like wow this seems a bit rushed and it does seem like filler but it also technically isn’t…? If I’m thinking beyond what I would like to see with romance. If I think of it as more of s general show that is openly queer but that’s just the life of the show…then was this an outlier or does it fit? Even if it doesn’t I still get to understand more of what they think abt the world…? Idk i liked this episode i go back and forth! But it was a good way to spend my hour.

Also rose’s plan is fucking disgusting neoliberal drivel and insulting lmao when joke threw that all i could think of was bush and that shoe

[icebluecyanide]

Alex and his anger in Scorpia (2005)

I decided to make a collection of all moments of anger (or lack thereof) from the book.

Alex had to know what had happened fourteen years ago. Discovering the truth about John Rider would be the same as finding out about himself. Because, if his father really had killed people for money, what did that make him? Alex was angry, unhappy … and confused. He had to find Scorpia, whatever it was. Scorpia would tell him what he needed to know. (p. 14)

The tiger was watching him. Alex had twisted round, his hands behind him, his legs bent sideways, in the act of standing up. The tiger's front paws were resting on the desk. Neither of them moved. Alex knew that the door was too far away. There was nowhere else to hide. A surge of anger flooded through him. He should never have come in here. He should have been more careful. (p. 66)

Bitter anger shivered through him. Was this the destiny that Yassen Gregorovich had promised him? Had he come to Venice simply for this? The sirens were still howling. The water had covered the first two steps and was already lapping at the third. Alex cursed, then took several deep breaths, hyperventilating. When he had forced as much air into his lungs as he thought they could take, he toppled over and plunged head first through the hole. (p. 75)

“You're not answering my question,” he said, trying not to get angry. Mrs Rothman seemed friendly enough but he already knew that she was very rich and very ruthless. He suspected that he would regret it if he got on the wrong side of her. (p. 128)

Alex felt hatred welling up inside him. It was stronger than anything he had ever experienced in his life. He wondered if it would be possible to live an ordinary life again one day. There seemed to be nowhere for him to go. Maybe it would be better for everyone if he just took one more step. He was already standing on the very edge. Why couldn’t he just let the night take him? (p. 186)

“We have chosen the one person in the world who - we think you'll agree - most deserves to die. It is someone you have every reason to despise, and we hope that your hatred and your anger will drive you on, removing any last doubts you may have." (p. 188)

“Why did you do it?” he demanded. His voice had become a whisper. He was trying to channel the hatred through him, to give him the strength to do what he had been sent here for. (p. 229)

“If you’re saying my father was so evil, what do you think that makes me?” Alex was trying to will himself to shoot. He had thought anger would give him strength, but he was more tired than angry. So now he searched for another way to persuade himself to pull the trigger. He was his father’s son. It was in his blood. (p. 231)

He held the gun steady. He let the hatred take him. And fired. (p. 232)

“I don’t hate you,” Alex said. It was true. He felt nothing. (p. 272)

It's interesting to see how Alex starts the book already angry (and confused) at MI6 for their lies/because of his inner conflict about his dad being a killer. Scorpia deliberately try to stoke that anger by sending him after Mrs Jones, but when she confronts him about his dad killing innocent people, he struggles to hold on to his hatred/anger (and we learn later that even when he pulls the trigger, he can't bring himself to aim at Mrs Jones). And in the aftermath of the failed assassination he's more numb and exhausted than anything else.

[silvyysthings]

I was going to write about what is currently going on with Timothee in general and the smoke and mirror couple but as I start this I realized I don’t actually give a F anymore. On the other side I wish Armie all the best. After listening to his podcast these two will never hate each other but are not close anymore. I think we all know what happened if fans choose to actually listen. Nostalgia, cherry picking, refusing to believe facts and losing our friendships here are all that is driving this now. I just hope Armie is smart enough to get any verbal offers for new jobs in writing before the last Oscar votes are completed on Feb 21. Managing people with shiny objects is a long Hollywood tradition and a great way to control his mouth until then. Something tells me any positive press he has been getting goes away when voting ends and the ramp up to the Toxic show promo with rehashing and her once again playing victim to his villain begins. I hope this time he uses his platform to call out everything from journalists, articles and gossip when it comes. It was about somebody else but he already said the quiet bit out loud last podcast with the “people who turned their back and watched him burn” info. He unfollowed not for spite or any bitterness he rightfully has but self preservation. The only thing he didn’t do is call him by his name. Armie has a voice now. We all know their is only one question people are waiting for that he gets guests to ask him at the end of every podcast He knows it too. Although the interest now has a ceiling. Pretty sure it falls into his “ leaning into whatever makes you uncomfortable” philosophy. I hope everything turns out well for Armie. He didn’t deserve all of that. I agree with the 110k likes from another post who said Timothee deserves an Oscar for pretending to be someone he isn’t and having fans believe for years that he is anything like Elio. I hope the Oscar nom on Friday was worth selling his soul for. Timothee is Rich, Famous with all the right connections now but you only have to look at him to see the cost. Like many others now I think Kylie and her family are closer to the true version of who he is V the persona he built but good luck to him. Your blog has been one of the few to allow different points of view so thank you for that. It has been quite the rollercoaster but learned a lot about what really matters. Wishing you all the best. You were always fair.

You're welcome anon , as I always say , I allow every pov on my blog if it is expressed properly and without insults to the boys. I hate censorship and luckily my friends here are open to discuss everything without hate.

It's surreal how we switched to have now one free and ready to rebuild his life and work instead we have to worry for the other one . The opposite situation.

[unbotheredalwyn]

I just have to say how disappointed I am in allowing myself to fall back into the Taylor trap. I started listening to her music in elementary and middle school and followed and genuinely liked her music until Red. I dropped her music because I got tired of all of drama with Jake and how everything was about a guy and then 1989 dropped and I got even more of an ick with all the Harry styles drama and after that I genuinely stopped hearing about her and her drama until midnights. I genuinely liked the vibe of it and then listened to lover, folklore, and evermore and was like Omg?! When did she mature? When did she grow this much? Folklore became my favorite album especially because it resonated so much with me while I was struggling. I went to the eras movie with my friend and we rekindled our girlhood memories and made friendship bracelets and even traded them with the few people the cinema and it was so cool to have had that moment watching the film and reliving our childhood with these people who we didn’t know but bonded with BUT THEN I got hit with the Joe break up, the Travis nonsense (like I didn’t stop seeing this man’s face no matter how hard I tried to avoid it) and then the Joe trash talk, Ratty, and worst of all-Taylor seemed to revert back to this immature, catty high school mean girl persona and I was shocked! I was so mad to find out that she contributed to this narrative against Joe and then TTPD admitting she cheated and blasted Joes mental health and her fans just justify all of it? They went from saying Joe was jobless and poor and used her to Joe being too rich to have mental health struggles and if he hadn’t been “so sad” she wouldn’t have cheated. Well which is it? Did he use her for money or did this rich man just ruin her vibe and deserve to get cheated on? And which is it from Taylor? Does she even have a real personality because it feels like she just picks up whatever suits her for the time being and I hate it.

I totally understand how you feel. I find myself sometimes missing her music.

One of the best times was the eras tour in cinemas for me too. My girlfriend surprised me with tickets we got flyers and it was a genuinely good time we were all dancing and singing along, people were handing out friendship bracelets, doing the fan chants etc but genuinely this entire thing is making me genuinely so sad because I really thought Taylor was a better person but she is just not.

Don't feel bad or disappointed because I promise you the fact that you see her bullshit and just does not blindly follow her like all the others says a LOT about you as a person and it shows your character so don't worry anon 🤗

I really am proud of Joe regardless what swifties say about him and honestly I don't think he gives a shit 😂 my unbothered king

I hope he sues them though about the ai shit and I hope Emma and Alison sues the people who spread she shitty rumors around tbh

[foggynelsonarchive]

hey!

i just wanted to check in on you. as someone who follows you and has the notifs on for your posts, i hope that's not creepy, i saw some of the asks and posts awhile back about leaving the blog. Obviously, do what's best for you. Always. Regardless of your decision, I just want to emphasize how appreciated you are to us Foggy fans, all five of us.

Really, the work you must do to compile the posts, the dedication to posting so often, and the fact you are running a blog for a "small" character in the Marvel universe at all, should be acknowledged.

The hateful messages you receive are extremely uncalled for. You have the right to exist and enjoy the character you love in peace. I applaud how you handled those messages with grace and more patience than I would have. I wanted to rush to your defense at the time. I even ranted to my poor unsuspecting irl friend about the situation, but I didn't actually come on here at the time (due to irl issues), so I still apologize. I've been annoyed at those anonymous messages and concerned for you ever since.

All this to say, I hope you're doing well, protecting yourself, and enjoying Foggy Nelson in whatever capacity you can.

-Arden x

I kept reading your ask with a smile on my face and teary eyes. You know when Karen brought that old equipment from the auction to their old office, and Foggy was staring at it lost in memory because he always wanted an office with a fax machine...

That's how I read your ask.

Well, I'm just like Foggy; I cry easily, I get emotional easily, I care too much and I'm generally left behind.

That's why I relate to him so much. (And also with Elden, but that's a topic for another day, who knows)

Your ask made me very emotional, my dear. Because it's so true. We Foggy fans are small, but we are amazing!

And you're right. I still want to delete this blog. There's no point staying and trying when things are getting messy. I know when it's my time to go and I know I'm going to feel sicker when Born Again comes out.

I want to delete it and just disappear and maybe stop drawing (I only started drawing again because of Daredevil). I want to delete this blog, but there are so many little memories here; it's a little piece of me, so I don't know what to do...

Being a Foggy enthusiast is an amazing job and a way of life. But it's so lonely most of the time. There is no one to share absolutely anything with. There is no one to cry with. There is no comfort. There are not thousands of those lovely edits. Hell, people tirelessly share even edits with Jon and Wilson (even the stars of the series seem to appreciate them most), but no one shares anything about Elden and his Foggy at all. I feel sad that he is left aside as if his work was worthless. I'm terribly upset because Foggy is such a rich and interesting character, but he doesn't have "that Marvel's appeal". I hope I'm wrong and that he has a chance in the future, but I'm not confident.

The fandom has become a terrible place, especially for Live!Foggy fans.

Messages like:

"Karen is better than him. Matt doesn't need him. Foggy should die, and Karen deserves to live. Foggy is useless. Karen is the co-protagonist. Born again will be better without him"... etc...

And not to mention the messages I receive about how Elden and his family deserved to die. Body shaming him, etc.

Some fans are just as greedy as their idols, and when I think about it, I'm glad Elden isn't like them. I'm also happy because even though I feel alone here, my heart is not heavy with hate.

Rare are the people who value Foggy, not only because he is Matt's best friend, but mainly because he has his own story and importance.

Unfortunately, Marvel seems to have forgotten about this, and recent issues and Born Again are, little by little, erasing him.

I hope one day they reconsider this. And maybe one day I'll watch this series (this will be the first time I refuse to watch something Elden is in) and maybe one day I'll see fan posts again and feel proud and happy again. But for now, I just feel sad.

Thank you very much for your concern for me. My intention with this blog was to bring a little joy, and I also believe Foggy and Elden deserve more recognition.

And I had so many interesting things to share, but there's no use. Most Daredevil fans don't deserve them.

Well, I'm exhausted, jaded. November sucks for me and it's been a really tough year, so thank you for your kind words.

You are one of the few (five) who are worth it

And please, please take care of yourself. 💚

~michely

(I may have messed up my words, and I kept talking too much... gosh...I hope you understand me, English is not my first language)

[the-real-sasuke-uchiha]

Sasuke, I’ve been thinking about this for a few days now. I used to think analyzing people’s reactions to the Uchiha genocide was fascinating. I would say to myself “wow, people treat this like it was some kind of ‘both sides were wrong’ type of thing but I’m sure if it was happening in front of them, they would think differently.” WELL. Now a genocide is happening in front of us and people are REACTING THE SAME WAY. “Oh it’s not a genocide, you are being dramatic.” “They deserved it because they’re all evil.” “Is**** has a right to defend itself against terrorists!” Holy moly… Literally word for word. I feel so naive to have believed in humanity as much as i did.

I feel you, my friend. I never talk about these things because I think it might be upsetting if an anime blog starts talking about real life genocides in between joke posts and memes. I also don't like to parallel fictional and real life crimes for fear that people will find it frivolous and offensive. So please, everyone reading this, know that this is not by any means my intention, and that I am not trying to use real life massacres to justify my take in this fandom or anything, I am just answering a friend here.

I don't know what to say, really, I lost all hope in humanity long ago too. But, it baffles me that I keep seeing people around me repeating the bullshit you describe. And it baffles me mostly because I see this coming too from good people that have nothing to win out of this infamy. Now you are thinking that "good people" would never find excuses to turn a blind eye to a genocide, but I can ensure you they are no monsters, they really aren't. They are not indifferent to human suffering, I saw them committed with other causes, I know they wouldn't hurt a fly, so what is wrong with them?

I am no psychologist so, forgive me if I say something dumb. But I think the thing is, reality is just to damn painful. You just can't accept it like that. A genocide, complete and atrocious extermination of a whole group of people, just because? Just based on hate and lies? Just to steal their land? And you are comfortable at your home, safe just out of sheer luck, because you were born in the right moment in the right place. Two very agonizing realities arise when you become aware of this. The first one is that you, citizen of the so-called "free world", convinced during your whole life that you have the voice and the power in your very democratic country, are practically impotent; unable to do anything or to help anyone, unable to even get your government to officially condemn the genocide, let alone to get them to stop sending weapons to the perpetrator. The second one is that you are only safe until your annihilation can be of purpose to the geopolitical interests of some dominant global power.

So, I believe blaming the victim is a defence mechanism to help us convince ourselves that bad things happen for a reason and that we could never be subjected to such cruelty. Similar to when we blame poor starving people for their bad choices, or when we blame women for being raped because, you know, they were dressed like that, they drank or whatever. We want to believe that we know better, that we are safe because we are clever and not because we are lucky, because that would mean our luck could end one day and we could be susceptible to monstrosities any time. And I guess that is unbearable.

And then, of course, we have the media bringing us those excuses. Thoroughly. Picturing the victims as terrorists for defending themselves and the aggressor as a victim with legit reasons to commit a genocide. It is extremely well-thought and intentional, from the language they use to the things that they decide to tell or not. They know very well how to manipulate people and how to redirect their feelings and empathy to fit the goals and interests of the very rich people behind mass media. Many people speak only one language, never left their homes, never met a foreigner. They have access only to mainstream tv channels and newspapers, and they will never believe anything different from what they consider "official". And you would expect something more from educated people, but even the school curriculum is designed to shape your mind in a particular way that fits the political interests of your nation.

And going back to fiction, of course, I understand that people have a right to enjoy whatever they want and like any character they want and this is no reason to judge their morality. But, indeed, like you, I also find parallels between the excuses people give to overlook or justify fictional massacres and the real ones. I guess fiction mirrors reality and this is why, sometimes, we live this fandom a bit to viscerally. Because when you see someone justifying a fictional genocide you imagine them doing the same in reality and, well. As you say, we don't really need to imagine that at all, it is happening.

[thatweirdtranny]

I think what has become evident is that many people don't really have any genuine courage, and that's partly driven by a culture that treats violence and courage as synonymous with each other, but also just because we as a society aren't willing to have any conversations about our deeply concealed cowardice.

Cowardice is at the root of a lot of the weird contradictory behavior we keep seeing, but the problem is that we aren't willing to actually unpack and think about what it actually means to be cowardly/courageous/violent.

I think this might be a bit of a weird thought, but I think our tendency to demonize cowardice ironically makes it impossible for us to actually properly understand and manage it. We demonize cowardice (and not without reason), but the drawback I think is that we end up not being willing to recognize that cowardice isn't something to be inherently ashamed of. And because of that, we can't find healthier and more effective ways to manage our fearful thoughts, and instead descend into conspiracy and psychological projection.

So instead we get these bizarre situations where people project their deeply rooted fear of the horrors to come onto (metaphorically) faceless vigilantes, hoping and flailing for violence to save them from the consequences of their own cowardice, or even just simply feeling fear and cowardice, all the while trying to frame it as courage to avoid the shameful truth.

People's fixation on vigilantism as a "solution" and "hope for a new revolution" feels exactly like that. They're terrified and afraid of the horrors to come, but rather than process and understand that, that their own cowardice in stopping the problem earlier with a less violent solution could have prevented this, a combination of cultural expectations and their own unwillingness to process that means that they instead hide and cower behind violence in hopes that the latter can somehow resolve the dissonance and avoid the painful truth that they need to actually face.

could be, yeah. our culture here in the US has a weird fixation on violence and that manifests in different ways depending on political views or subculture, such as we’re currently seeing with leftists glorifying violence in the myriad of ways we’re currently seeing.

i want to be clear that the reason i hate vigilante justice isn’t because i abhor all violence — most violence yeah but i think most people understand that it has its place in very special circumstances such as self defense or in some cases in war — but because vigilante justice isn’t justice at all but a bastardized version of justice. for example: throughout history mobs targeting “the rich” in fact went after jews. that’s a good example of how a mob can’t carry out justice. mob violence and vigilante justice throughout history has literally never been on the right side of things as far as real justice is concerned.

i just wish people would use the logic and reasoning god gave them instead of using whatever their feelings tell them to denote what is right and wrong

and for god’s sake this doesn’t mean i don’t think brian thompson and other ceos deserve to face justice, and i will go to the ends of the earth criticizing our current “justice system” but by talos you can’t just take it all into your own hands

leftists ARE glorifying violence at an alarming level and that’s really fucking bad!!

[firecrackerhh]

We aaaaaallll deseeeeeerve to diiiiieeeee!!

The lives of the wicked at the very least. God knows we have far too many of those wretched vermin insisting they stamp their boot all over us for their own gain. Too many blubbering idiots so unbearably fucking retarded they barely should count as human fucking beings to begin with think this country is only for them. Anyone outside of their view may as well be considered persona non grata.

These people legit believe that Donald fucking trump is the next Jesus Christ or some shit dude, these people think that a fascist piece of shit fucking spoiled brat of an absolute wretch is somehow going to make things better for them because these idiots don’t think that Trump despises them too.

Oh yeah, sure, the rich billionaire will totally help you out, he totally doesn’t think you’re a retard. Not like trump has any right to claim he’s smarter than anyone.

When Hillary called those wretched fucks deplorables she was fucking correct. I don’t like Hillary but she got one thing right at least.

I can’t respect any of these ‘people’ I’m supposed to respect ‘people’ who would have very little issue in fucking killing me for the crime of existing? Nah, fuck that civility politics bullshit, respect is earned. If anyone’s persona non grata here, it’s them. it sure as fuck isn’t me! I’m not retarded enough to fall for a F-rate salesman who shouldn’t have even been allowed to run the second time given how January 6th fucking played out! He’s, yknow, a felon?

Felon, the same class of people who aren’t even allowed to vote? Felons can’t vote but Donald trump can run for office and somehow fucking win and no one who actually matters gives a fuck!? It’s not like he really suffered any consequences for all this shit!

Like yeah yeah he has to spend a lot of money, oh whatever, man could sell one of his golden toilets or some shit, I’m sure it would be enough to last him a while. Frankly I think Donald trump should suffer for the rest of his life, I say we put him in a Saw trap but we can’t always get what we want. Tragic.

It’s funny I mention that at all cuz I’m a lil bitch who hates super gory stuff (Sweeney Todd is like nothing compared to the real bad gorey media out there) but man, if anyone deserves Jigsaw’s wrath…

I’m not gonna act all doom and gloom over this shit, that ain’t helpful, but goddamn I’m not gonna pretend that shit is all kittens and rainbows either.

And if you think I think his voters are shit you don’t wanna know what I think of the people they vote in.

Have a lot of nerve to claim immigrants, democrats and whatnot are poisoning the blood of this country when the only poisonous beings I see are them. I have to wonder if these people are just constantly projecting (however unintentionally)

Of course, that would assume they’re capable of understanding irony.

Sigh…I’m lucky to live in a safe enough state, but the federal supersedes the state governments, who knows how long that’ll last. Fuck me. I swear to god I keep imagining fucking mad max style apocalyptic scenarios and I can only fucking hope that it’s just my anxiety making shit worse and not eventual reality.

Fuck God, is there a demon we can summon to make things better?

Goddamnit.

Other countries are gonna be affected by this too.

Oh we will all go together when we go

What a comforting fact that is to know…

It really isn’t tbh but man what else do we got?