Do Y’all Know Where The Phrase “eat The Rich” Comes From Or Do You Just Repeat It Cause You Heard

Here's just a little sneak peek at the fun and amazing work of art that is called...

Airwaves Unscripted (PapaMic) by Chimera_Regarion on WP!

It's crack and it's beautiful and you should definitely go read it right this second- ANYWAY on to it...

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(Izuku Midoriya's POV)

"-and I swear, if I see one more hero posting a 'thoughts and prayers' tweet after doing jack shit to fix the problem, I'm gonna lose my mind." I say, drumming my fingers against the desk.

"Oh-ho, careful, Zuzu!" Dad snickers. "You're gonna make all the corporate heroes cry into their brand sponsorships!"

"Oh no, whatever shall they do? Maybe wipe their tears with the stacks of cash they made off merchandise while ignoring the civilians suffering right outside their shiny-ass agencies?*" I lean into the mic, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm just a kid, what do I know?"

"You know too much," Dad sighs dramatically. "Society's golden boy, how dare you think critically?"

"I know, I should be grateful!" I throw a hand up. "Look at me, a student at U.A., the peak of all human existence, training under heroes who definitely, absolutely, 100% never screw up or fail anyone! Right, Dad?"

Dad snorts, trying to hold in his laughter. "Oh, absolutely. Heroes are always perfect, and the system has zero flaws."

"Exactly!" I gesture wildly. "*Clearly, those people who get ignored, overlooked, or outright abandoned just didn't try hard enough. If they wanted help, they should've been conveniently located near a hero who was having a good day!"

Dad claps his hands. "And let's not forget the golden rule: If you're not 'hero material, then society's just not built for you! That's your fault, obviously!"

"Mmm, yes, let's talk about that!" I tap the mic. "my new brother, who totally doesn't hate my guts-hi, by the way! spent his entire childhood being told he's villainous because his quirk is scary. Meanwhile, I-quirkless, useless, disposable-got the same treatment but for a different reason. Because society loves picking favorites.*"

Dad hums. "It's almost like... the system is designed to benefit a select few while leaving the rest to rot?*"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, careful now, Dad." I gasp. "That almost sounded like criticism! We can't have that! You're a pro hero! What if people start thinking for themselves?!"

"Perish the thought!"

"Exactly!" I slam my hands down. "Heroes are the good guys, and if you dare question anything about them, you must be anti-hero or pro-villain! Those are the only two options, right?"

Dad dramatically wipes a fake tear. "It's so simple when you put it like that, Zuzu."

"I try." I smirk. "Wouldn't wanna burden people with nuance or critical thinking. That's dangerous, you know."

"Super dangerous."

We both pause. The silence lingers for a second, stretching just long enough to be uncomfortable.

Because it's not really a joke.

We mean every word.

"Anyway," I shake my head, breaking the moment. "Let's move on before we accidentally wake up the morality police. What's next?"

Dad glances at his notes. "Ooooh, this one's fun! 'Heroes with their own energy drinks-a discussion on capitalism, branding, and selling out!"

I groan. "Oh, kill me now."

Dad cackles. "Buckle up, partner, it's gonna be a wild ride!"

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... Please go read it, it's crack and I'm living for it

I was talking to myself and came up with the line "instead they take the poisoned berries handed to them like they're a god-given cure" so here is poems based off of it

His words, a venom, sharp and sly,

Spilled from a mouth that never tries

To heal, to soothe, to lift the soul—

Only to poison, twist, and control.

Each sentence laced with bitter sting,

A heavy blow from a hollow king.

In every tweet, in every speech,

He reached to tear, to bruise, to breach.

Promises dripped in bitter hues,

A master of the darkest news.

He weaved his lies, with artful grace,

A smirk upon his troubled face.

The truth, a casualty in his fight,

As facts dissolved in the toxic light.

Yet those who hear his wicked call,

Fall deeper still beneath his thrall.

For words like these can tear apart,

They plant a seed, corrupt the heart.

But in the end, though loud they roar,

The poison fades—truth stands once more.

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Instead they take the poisoned berries handed to them like they’re a god-given cure—

Bitter fruit, with a lethal allure,

That promises healing, but leaves them to rot,

Feeding on lies that they’ve been taught.

His words are sweet, his smile a mask,

A gentle whisper, a dangerous task.

“Trust me,” he says, “I’ll make it right,”

But darkness blooms where there once was light.

Instead they take the poisoned berries,

Blind to the thorns that twist within,

They taste the venom, convinced it’s sweet,

And fall to the rhythm of their own defeat.

The cure they seek is a cruel disguise,

For in each berry, a sorrow lies.

They drink the poison, the whispers, the lies,

And wonder, too late, why the world still dies.

But when the dawn breaks, they will see—

The berries were never meant to set them free.

And in the ruin, the truth will stir:

No god gives poison—only a deceiver.

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**The Poisoned Gift**

Instead they take the poisoned berries,

Handed to them like a god-given cure—

A promise painted red and sweet,

A bitter gift, they eat and eat.

His words, like fruit with lethal glow,

Drip false hope where doubt should grow,

And in their hunger, they take the bite,

Believing venom tastes of light.

"Trust me," he murmurs, with hungry eyes,

While shadows stretch and truth lies tied.

They crave the healing, the promised ease,

Blind to the thorn that digs, that bleeds.

The berries cling, like secrets kept,

Wrapped in pride and swallowed deep.

And they, in thrall, in dreams secure,

Let poison pass as if it's pure.

But when dawn breaks, the fog will clear,

The truth lies sharp, like shattered mirrors—

No god gives poison as a cure,

Only deceivers, cruel and near.

I feel like crying so hard right now, I asked my dad to get carne asada because I've been craving it all day. And do you know what he did. He did in fact NOT get my craved carne asada! 😭 But he got carnitas and ground beef. Which is fine for tacos but all I wanted was carne asada. And I have not gotten my carne asada and I don't think I will be getting my carne asada because he came home in a bad mood and if I ask right now he's probably going to snap at me and then I'm probably going to cry for real this time. And if anyone is reading this you probably think I'm dramatic, and yes you would be correct, but that does not mean I cannot be upset about something I've been wanting all day only to be utterly disappointed. Some of you will probably think but carnitas and ground beef tacos are good too, but it's not the same!! It is not the same especially when I've been craving it all day. All I wanted was my thin long pieces of beef that I call carne asada but instead I got this block of shredded pork and a container of bland ground beef that says it's marinated but I tried it and that shit is bland and dry!

Update: apparently the ground beef was my "carne asada" but just cut up, and if that counts as carne asada that was the worst fucking carne asada I've ever had, my dad even tried it he's like "oh yeah that's gross, guess it's dog food now" and the worst part is that he paid 20 bucks for that thing and we have a whole container of it we don't know what to do with it cuz no one wants to eat it, and all I wanted was my precious carne asada 😭😭🕳️🤸☠️ all I wanted was this ⬇️🤤

But I got this😭

*Unyielding*

They try to bind what can’t be bound,

To quiet voices, keep them down.

But freedom’s breath is fierce and strong,

A pulse that beats where we belong.

They take our choices piece by piece,

And call it order, call it peace.

But peace was never found in chains,

In dreams erased, in silent pain.

They close the doors that once were wide,

Yet still, we push back from inside.

For rights are more than laws they write—

They’re flames that burn through darkest night.

In every voice, a story lives,

Of strength, of struggle, hearts that give.

And though they try to still that song,

It rises, fierce—it won’t be gone.

For rights may bend, but they don’t break.

From every wound, a voice will wake.

And in the end, no hand can keep

What women fight for, fierce and deep.

My high school ceramics teacher when I asked a question he didn't know the answer to:

"I'm just a mushroom: Sitting in the dark eating bullshit"

The finest words of wisdom if I've ever heard em

“Can’t You Just…”

A shrug, a grin, “You’re better, see?”

Dropped the ball—again—carefree.

Burnt the toast, forgot the chore,

Left the mess and asked for more.

A tangled web of small mistakes,

Too many spills, too few breaks.

The other watches, calm in face,

But furious deep beneath the grace.

“It’s not on purpose,” they insist,

While every task is somehow missed.

Funny how the job goes fine

When no one's watching, drawing the line.

A clumsy act, rehearsed, refined—

A quiet scheme that’s undermined.

It isn’t skill they lack or lose,

It’s choice—they’ve learned to not to choose.

So one picks up what’s left behind,

The weight, the work, the ties that bind.

It’s not that they can’t carry their share—

It’s knowing someone else will care.

If your best freind was holding a gun to your head what would your final words be?:

@Antonio Muñoz: “Told you I’d take a bullet for you, but never imagined you’d be the one pulling the trigger”

Doyou know of a skin with a larger font size and dark mode?

No but it's really easaly solvable because the larger font size is something you can do by yourself! So you can just take any dark mode skin and add code!

The quickest way to do this would be the one I explained here in this ask Which explain how to use the skin wizard that’s native in Ao3.

Otherwise you can get any dark mode skin you find pleasant to look at (My Tide skin, My Dyslexia skin, Ao3′s Reversi, the tag dark mode in this blog has some, or go and look at this ao3 skin collection) and then at the bottom you can copy/paste either one of these codes here to increase the font size to your needs: This one changes the entire website (including buttons, interface, menu):

body { font-size: 130%; }

This one instead changes only the work and the summary, tags and comments while leaving the rest of the interface the normal size:

#workskin, .blurb, .comment { font-size: 130%; }

You just need to change the percentage to one that looks good for you!

Hey, so today's post is kind of personal, more than a little personal actually but I guess you could say I wasn't feeling the best earlier. And with these feelings I was trying to find anything to distract myself with and I ended up going through some older notes in my phone. And, well I got to reading this one. I guess you could say it's kind of stupid but I almost felt like I could relate? (again to myself so, stupid) and I thought maybe others could too.

I guess I was just feeling a lot of emotions, some similar but also none quite the same. I guess you could say it I felt... Unvalidated? Not valued, not seen, not heard; amongst other things. I won't go into detail what happened today but I guess here's a little, almost diary entry? Of a bad day from a while back.

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Thurs. Oct 24, 2024:

I wasn't having the best day yesterday, I couldn't tell you why, there wasn't just one specific thing, I think it was just... Everything. I'm just, tired. Tired of not knowing, tired of not being enough. Just, tired. I need a break. Just a moment to catch my breath. So yeah, I wasn't having the best day yesterday.

I had to actively stop myself from crying my eyes out in the middle of a classroom or hallway a couple of times. For some reason, I so desperately wanted nothing more than a hug from my dad. But it made me want to cry even more because I knew I couldn't have one, it was in the middle of the school day and he was at work. I had to force myself to think of something, anything other than how much I so desperately wanted a hug at that moment. Otherwise, I'd start bawling my eyes out in front of dozens of people.

I thought about asking Mrs. T for a hug. She was right there. No more than a couple of steps away. But for some reason I couldn't get myself to do it. Even though I was trying my damn hardest not to have a mental breakdown a foot behind her. Instead I just silently got up once the bell rang and stood behind her for a moment, debating. But after a moment I just grabbed my bag and silently walked away, I didn't say anything, she didn't say anything either. (She hadn't notice)

The second time I think I had to actively avoid breaking out in tears was on the way to my third-period from Mrs. T office hours, I had to force myself to stop thinking about the hug I couldn't have otherwise I'd start crying in front of my pre-calculus class. Eventually, the teacher came along to unlock the door and I splashed my face with some water from the water fountain.

It was a little better after that. I could distract myself with math, I didn't have to think, well at least think about anything other than math. And I thought to myself, what if I asked Yoshi for a hug, even if it seemed like an inadequate substitute at the time? I thought about the girls and I know they would hug me if I asked but I don't know if it was the kind of hug I needed. I think that thought is also the reason I didn't end up asking ***** for a hug either. It wasn't the kind of hug I needed.

Even as I just silently dissociated my way through lunch to avoid crying. Then came ceramics, my mind and body felt all over the place. Like I wanted, needed to do something but couldn't. I was glazing my projects which helped a lot I even got to genuinely smile and laugh at some point, so my day got a little better after that. I could just immerse myself in my art. I could mostly do the same thing in LC while painting posters, so by the time I went home I was a lot better than the latter half of the afternoon.

Hours went by and I forgot about my insistent need for a hug from no one else but for my dad. And eventually, he came home. At that point I didn't feel like I desperately needed a hug anymore, but I thought to myself, I could still use that hug, so I silently moseyed my way out of my room after a moment of contemplation and made my way to his.

I stood at the door and watched for a moment as he was kicking his dirty laundry into a pile on the floor to be washed. I don't know why but that pile of dirty laundry felt like the Mariana trench between him and I at that moment. So instead of wading myself across it I just asked, are you still not working tomorrow? (That's not what I wanted to say but I felt like I needed to say something, anything, to try to bridge that gap)

He confirmed what I already knew, still not looking at me, just focusing on compiling his clothes together. And of course, since I was there standing in the doorway ******(my dog) wanted to come see, and as always he was getting told that he was in the way (I always feel bad when I hear everyone say that, even though it's true and he likes to stick close to your legs causing you to trip) and I don't know why it struck me so much.

Why when he told ******(my dog) to get out and go away it felt like he was saying it to me. I know he wasn't angry or annoyed at me, I know that. He was just tired and now annoyed at the dog. But it hit me, and I couldn't tell you why.

So I silently left and made my way back to my room as he started saying things like all I do is work work work work, work and mop, work and mop... In his usual annoyed tone. I don't know why, but for a moment, I silently stood at my door still just a little cracked as I listened to him rant, even though my heart felt like it was cracking with every word he said.

Finally, I silently shut the door and that's when the waterworks; the one's I had been holding back all day, finally spilled over. I cried for a while rambling and babbling and I had to repeatedly tell myself something I already knew, he's not mad at you, he's just tired and annoyed at the dog, he's just tired and annoyed at the dog, had to tell myself he won't be mad at you if you go to ask for a hug, that's ridiculous, so finally after a while of working up my gall, I splash my face with water in the bathroom make sure it didn't look like I was crying.

And I made my way back to his room, but this time there was no cavernous trench of laundry between us. I silently made my way in and just stood behind him while he was fiddling with his phone and charging, still not saying a word. ******(my dog) followed me along and jumped on his bed. It probably didn't take more than a minute to finish up his fiddling, but it felt like forever, and again I felt like I had to force myself to not make my eyes water, so he couldn't see.

Finally, he turned around and asked me what I wanted, I silently held my arms out for a hug and I asked him if I could get a hug he couldn't hear me so I repeated myself but I don't think it came out as more than a mumble. He got the hint anyway and hugged me. like his hugs. We usually just silently hold each other and sway back and forth on our feet. I like our hugs.

But in that moment it just didn't feel right. I couldn't tell you why. Just that it wasn't. Suddenly he spoke up and said, it'll all be okay. I don't know why he said it. Maybe it showed on my face. Or maybe you didn't show enough.

Because the next moment he's pulling away. Entirely too quickly. A hug. One that earlier in the day I had to actively stop myself from crying out for because I so desperately needed it. A hug I had to give myself a pep talk just ask for. But a hug that felt like it was the answer turned out to break me even more.

After he pulled away he joked about something with the dog and laughed. He laughed. There's nothing wrong with laughing. But in that moment it felt like she was laughing at me. And I had to force myself to let out a laugh too. So he wouldn't see that there's anything wrong.

Even as I silently walked out of his room my back to him so he wouldn't see the tears threatening to spill from my eyes. Mouth tightly shut so he wouldn't hear the sobs threatening to claw up my throat. I silently walked away from his room to mine closed my door, and let the first sob near silently leave my body as it clicked shut. I felt so stupid. I felt useless and like I couldn't do anything.

And so then the waterworks started again as I tried to snuff out the sobs leaving my body. I didn't want him to try to come into my room and see me breaking apart so I decided I was going to take a shower. I wasn't dirty. Not really. But it felt like it, almost. Couldn't let him see. I don't know why he's not allowed to see. He just isn't. So I started quietly cursing myself for being so stupid as I took off my jewelry and grabbed my stuff for the shower. I felt better after the shower. Not entirely. But better than I was before. Didn't feel like I was going to start breaking out in sobs at any second. So, better.

Kids. Little kids. They grow up believing that they can be a hero if they drive a sword into the heart of anything different. And I'm the monster? I don't know what's scarier. The fact that everyone in this Kingdom wants to run a sword through my heart... Or that sometimes, I just wanns let'em. -Nimona

This part made me cry so hard 😭🤸🕳️