#inspired by anti lo

[mkh-draws]

Zagreus ages for my Lore Olympus AU that came from this post.

For future works and comic pages check out the Lunar Love tag on my page or the link.

Lore info underneath. CW: child abuse, mentions of child soldiers, war, and abusive relationships.

Born to the tyrant Zelena Theraopoulos and Izanagi-no-Mikoto as her firstborn. Zagreus and his father faced different kinds of abuse from his mother. Despite the traumatic upbringing Izanagi tried his best to give his son the happy childhood he could. It ended when Zagreus of ten and his father were sent to live in the Lifeless Mountains after Zelena fell pregnant with her twins. She would let her older sister Gaea bring her son to visit his father under her supervision. However, during his time Izanagi, Gaea, and Eris with their brother Solis, were plotting to rebel against Zelena but couldn't figure out how to weaken her due to her strong military presence. Desprest Izanagi began to plant ideas in Zagreus' head about finding out the weak spots of his mother's army for their advantage. Using seeing him and them seeing each other freely to "motivate" his son.

At 13 Zagreus was discovered as a spy by his mother which sparked the rebellion when he was caught with the military plans. After fleeing with his aunt Eris to a hideout. The battle raged for half a year until Zelena and Zagreus faced each out in a one-on-one. The fight turned in Zelena's favor when she cut her son's legs off. She was about to cut off his arm that had Zagreus' stone on but was stopped by Gaea stepping into the fight. Rhea, Zagreus' giantess best friend, ran towards him. Before she had reached him in time as Zelena was able to break away from fighting her sister and charge after her son. The battle ended with her cutting off his head. As everyone stood in shock, Zelena left his her son's head. From ages 13 to 16 Zagreus was in a comatose state with his family fighting for his parts. During the years Zelena had gotten her hands on his torso and scared it. By 16 The rebellion was able to get his head back with the help of his twin sisters. Who betrayed their mother. Now back together the war continued until Zagreus and Zelena met once again. But this time Zagreus won the fight by cutting his mother in half. Unlike him, Zagreus watched as his mother crystallized in front of him. With Zelena's death, the rebellion was over and it was up to the remaining siblings to figure out the new order. With the twins being too young for the throne and the people denying any possible men on the throne. Zagreus was placed due to his hermaphrodism.

From 17-19, Zagreus was in an arranged marriage with the Rouge Lilites Prince Rayne Lilithsson, to keep up the tradition. However, behind the side, Zagreus had started an affair with Rhea. When his 20th birthday was approaching, Zagreus announced his divorce from Rayne and that he would take Rhea as his wife. During all of this Zagreus and his father's relationship become strained, the affair pushes them over the edge and the two only speak with his father visit the surface.

At 20-25, Zagreus is called many titles, Queen-killer, the he-Queen, unfaithful, and more. But he tries not to let his get to him. To achieve this Zagreus pushes to hide his emotions to the point he doesn't move his face to anything. The only ones who see him emote are Rhea and his family.

[genericpuff]

hot take, but if you can't enjoy even casual H x P inspired romance stories made for fun without justifying or defending your enjoyment of it with "well ACTUALLY these stories are MORE accurate because Persephone WANTED to go down there, she LIKED it in the Underworld!" then you sound like an out-of-touch adult intentionally omitting/changing facts to scrub the story down for a 5 year old who you know won't question you

and that's not okay ~

[antiquepearlss]

As someone who no longer reads LO but kinda wants to read the final episode just to see how it ends; I have a feeling it will feel like this.

[bits-and-babs]

✰ 𝐏𝐎𝐌𝐏 — 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 ‘𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓’ 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

↳ summary: prompt: “If we weren’t in public right now, I’d have my head between your legs.” - Simon gets bored during a very special medal ceremony. Chest Candy isn't exactly what he's after when there's something much sweeter between your legs.

↳ pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader (Delta)

↳ [1k] content: 18+ MDNI. This is so self indulgent it’s ridiculous. Anti-Monarchy (sue me), cheeky Simon (my favourite kind), vague dirty talk, oral (f receiving) you see PART OF Simon’s face, vague allusion to p in v sex and cream pie. Inspired by this article I found.

ghost masterlist I| main masterlist |I join taglist

The Crimson red carpet stretches down the aisle to the medal platform, an uncomfortable reminder of the colour of the blood you had to spill to get here. A sea of uniformed SAS colleagues stands before you, making The King look distant from where he handed a medal to those worthy of the chest candy. The golden lighting is giving you a headache, and this ceremony feels as though it's taking forever. He's just a man-

"If we weren't in public right now, I'd have my head between your legs."

Simon's gruff voice so close to your ear has you jumping out of your skin, wide eyes gazing up at him through your lashes as you try to steady yourself from the shock. Was... Was he dirty talking you in the middle of the ceremonial halls of Buckingham Palace?

"Simon-"

"Never been one for pomp an' pageantry," he speaks over you, keeping his voice low as to avoid a very pointed look from Captain Price. Despite leaning down ever so slightly for his whispers to be heard, his eyes stare straight ahead, moving lips concealed by the worn fabric of his ski mask. 

"This isn't pomp, Simon. It's Buckingham Palace," you remind him pointedly, a little hiss of frustration bubbling in your throat. Ghost had the habit of choosing the worst times to pull this bullshit-

"Exactly my point, love." 

Admittedly, when you saw The Times article a few months ago, you threw up in your mouth. 'SAS get medals in secret palace ceremony'. While each of you had taken a vow to protect (what was then) Queen and Country, years on the field had twisted the priorities of each of the members of Team 141. You could ask any of them why they serve, and it certainly wasn't for this family. 

What you honestly hadn't expected, however, was the team's invitation. The invitation, written on a thick, grained card with an embossed royal seal, detailed the team's bravery in the Gulf of Mexico, redirecting the missile aimed towards inhabited land. Ghost had scoffed at the idea of going to Buckingham Palace, but Price had been adamant that all of 141 would be there. 

"You know, he's not even served a day in his life," Simon subtly nods towards the medals resting at The King's breast,"' Least Harry saw action."

Keeping your eyes aimed towards the ceremonial stage, you swallow back a grimace at Simon's truthful observation. Sure, he wasn't wrong, but it took everything in you not to dare Ghost to say it to the monarch's face. 

Because you're sure as shit that he would.

 "Whatd'ya say?" Simon whispers, his voice dropping a tad lower and dripping with eroticism, "There's an open door at your six, Delta. Make it worth your while." 

Before you even check over your shoulder to see if his observation is accurate, you're turning on your heel, whispering to the king's guard patrolling the open double doors that you need the toilet- that you are desperate. 

One of those admissions is true. 

                      ✰

"What took you so lo-ng?!" You gasp out as Ghost's tongue curls around your sensitive clit. 

"Recon, love," he muses, the rumble of his voice against your throbbing cunt making you throw your head back against the wall of the bathroom stall, "Couldn't just follow after you into the women's loos, could I?"

Squeezing your eyes shut, you whimper, pushing your fingers into Simon's buzzcut hair and shoving his face deeper into your cunt. His words had shot straight to your clit when he entered the bathroom, eyelids heavy and voice as rough as glass on gravel. 

"Eyes shut, panties down."

When his bare lips and nose pressed to your wet pussy lips, you could have cum right there, threats of a fierce orgasm roughly pushing up against the base of your spine. You wrap your thighs around his head now, wailing out his name as your eyes roll back. 

"Shhh," he mumbles against your soaked cunt, but it's so hard to take note of his warnings when they're drowned out by even louder sloppy, messy sucks of your sensitive flesh. He's swallowing your juices down, groans ricocheting off the bathroom walls. 

"Fuck, Princess," he's never used that name for you, and you know it's only because of the frankly ridiculous circumstances, but your cunt clenches around his tongue when he shoves it inside of you anyway, "Mhmm, so fuhgin' wet." 

He's slurring his words as he plunges his tongue deeper, but he won't shut up. A chorus of "good girl" s and "like that" s and "c'mon" s have you pushing your hips up into his face and grasping at the smooth walls of the bathroom stall. 

"Oh my God, Simon!" You sob weakly, tears welling in your eyes as he sinks his fingers into your throbbing cunt. He finds your G-spot instantly, far too acquainted with each curve and crevice of your body—too many reccy missions with his hands down your pants.

"Hah," he pulls back, breathless pants rumbling in his chest. The sound makes your back arch, chasing his lips again with your pelvis, "Gonna swear allegiance to me?"

His corny joke is almost lost on you; eyes rolling back into your skull as you grip at his short hair between your curled fingers. "L-Last I checked, yo-you were on your knees for m-me!"

It doesn't matter that you squeak out the last word of your ballsy sentence; it lands exactly as you intended it to. Simon stalls for a moment.

You don't mean to. You don't! But your eyes snap open at the sudden stalling of the blissful sensation. Simon's amber eyes gaze up at you from his position between your thighs. They frame his face, covering his ears. Your pubic bone smothers his lower visage, covering the bridge of his nose to his chin. 

Squeaking, you squeeze your eyes shut. Blonde. Simon's blonde, and a white scar runs down his left eyebrow and eyelid. 

"Naughty," you hear him smirk at your startled reaction, a breathy, exhaled chuckle fanning across your wet pussy lips, "Guess I'll have to fuck you so hard that you forget what you just saw." 

When you return to the ceremonial hall, the guards on the door keep their eyes uncomfortably fixed on the crimson carpet. You wish you could say that your shaking legs are from nerves when you step onto the ceremonial stage to receive your medal from The King. 

The smug gaze of the skull face in the crowd is a reminder of otherwise, his cum leaking into the fabric of your uniform as you bow for the monarch.

Authors Note: Congrats on your coronation, "King" Charles... Would be a shame if Diana made it rain on your big day. ;)

join the taglist here:

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @Malici0uspuff1n

[blankerthought]

repressing the urge to rant about stuff i only half-know bc i’ll want to research to know better and will end up unevitably upset

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Olivia Reingold

Published: Apr 15, 2024

CHICAGO — About 300 anti-war activists crowded into the basement of the Teamsters Union’s headquarters on Saturday to hear organizers from all over the country describe their plans to disrupt the Democratic National Convention this August. Joe Biden’s backing of Israel since Hamas’s October 7 attack has turned these left-wing radicals against their own party.

“It’s really inspiring to see that people are just as enthusiastic, and maybe even more enthusiastic, to march on the DNC as they are to march on the RNC,” says Omar Florez, a Milwaukee-based activist. “We can thank Genocide Joe and our movement for that.”  

But then a man stumbles to the podium, wiping sweat from his forehead. He grabs the microphone to announce that the Islamic regime of Iran has launched missiles and drones heading straight toward Israel.

“They believe that they will be in Palestinian—I don’t call it Israeli—airspace between two and four a.m., which means about two to four hours from now,” he says. “In addition, there are reports of drones having been fired on Israel from Yemen and Iraq.”

The crowd, all wearing black N95s, erupts into applause. Someone in the back lowers their mask to send a celebratory whistle soaring throughout the room.  

The man at the podium, Hatem Abudayyeh, heads the U.S. Palestinian Community Network, “a purported community group which, on information and belief, is an affiliate of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, a designated terror organization based in Gaza,” according to a lawsuit over the alleged relations between U.S. advocacy groups and Hamas. 

“This is when this country and the world needs us because the United States is going to, quote unquote, defend the criminal Israeli state,” says Abudayyeh, whose home was raided by the FBI in 2010 as part of an investigation “concerning the material support of terrorism.” 

“We have to assume that the United States is going to try to retaliate against Iran.”

After the boos and calls of “shame” subside, Abudayyeh says it is “incumbent” upon Americans to “stop the United States from expanding this war and hitting Iran.”

“We’ve got to be the strong, powerful anti-war movement that we are,” he says, placing the microphone down and exiting the stage. 

The crowd immediately began chanting, “Hands off Iran.”

A woman in a hot pink gas mask, wielding a matching neon cane and dressed in a “Protect Trans Kids” t-shirt, throws her fist in the air. Nearby, a service poodle is taking a nap under the chair of his owner, who is wearing a leather harness over his t-shirt. Then the group that has joined here from cities across America—Seattle, Washington, D.C., Los Angeles—cheers and claps in celebration. 

Joe Iosbaker, an organizer with the Freedom Road Socialist Organization, which called October 7 a “good turn of events” in its press release about the terrorist attacks, tells me he supports Iran. His organization has since released a statement backing Iran, where citizens gathered to shout “Death to America” during their nation’s strike against Israel Saturday night.

“We demand hands off Iran,” the statement says. “The people have power, and we will exercise it in the streets.” 

Earlier that day, before news of the attack broke, at a “breakout session” on “the anti-war movement,” Shabbir Rizvi, an organizer with Anti-War Committee Chicago, taught participants how to chant “death to Israel” and “death to America” in Farsi. 

“Marg bar Israel,” he chanted, leading a group of about 80 attendees along with him. A man draped in a Soviet flag bearing a gold hammer and sickle clapped his hands. 

A man in a full black denim outfit shouted out behind his N95—“Can we get a ‘marg bar America’?”

“We can get a ‘marg bar America,’ ” Rizvi replied. 

Then Rizvi raised his hand in the air, leading the crowd like a conductor.

“Marg bar America,” they cheered. 

On my way out of the event, I ask a woman smoking a cigarette to fill me in on the latest news regarding Iran’s lobbing of missiles and drones, which were later intercepted with help from forces from France, the U.S., and the UK. Iran said its strike was retaliation for Israel’s hit on the Iranian embassy in Syria earlier this month, which destroyed the consulate building next to the embassy and killed two of Tehran’s top commanders, and that the matter is “concluded”—unless Israel hits back.

“Iran is part of the resistance,” said the woman, who flew in that morning from New Orleans, where she’s been part of an effort to disrupt Israel-bound shipments in her hometown. “Yemen and Iran and Hezbollah, who are also a militant group in Lebanon, and the Syrian government are all parts of the arc of resistance.” 

A smile creeps across her face as she tells me: “They’re part of the arc of resistance because the enemies are Israel and the USA.” 

==

Remember Mahsa Amini? These insane fuckers don't. They've sided with the brutal Islamic Republic of Iran.

They hate our liberal, secular countries and they want to destroy them. They keep telling us who they are. Do you believe them yet?

Revoke citizenship and deport. I wasn't kidding before and I'm still not kidding now.

[chantsdemarins]

😅Real Villain Training [Tom Hiddleston circa 2012 X Fem.Reader]

Chapter three of Breath of the Æsir is almost here. I’m SO sorry for the wait! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy a very brief Tom story...

Honestly, I pledged to myself, no more Tom stories just focus on Loki. But I think I just can't help it. Especially when slutty inspiration like this photo comes my way (@lokischambermaid and @lokisgoodgirl 😳)

I am humbled by this era of Tom. In 2024 he is a husband/father/seasoned iconic actor in perpetual good cheer, but in 2012, he was a bad boy. As always please reblog and comment if you feel inspired!

Summary: Tom is hanging out with some real jerks for a new role, and he runs into you, literally. Your depression has caused your life to turn a little black and white, could this handsome stranger possibly add some color back? (at least to your cheeks🥵).

Smut factor: I hope...HOT 🔥

(Authors note: I have no concrete proof he was in fact a bad boy so please don't take seriously my young Tom plot themes of drugs and sex, which once again appear here. I could be totally wrong about him. It's art! It's a fabrication! Also, this story does involve mental health!)

I also don't know who would want to be on a tag list for a Tom fic these days! These are a few people who might be interested?? @lokischambermaid @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokisgoodgirl @wheredafandomat @sailorholly @mrs-illyrian-baby @superficialdomina @gigglingtiggerv2 @fictive-sl0th @muddyorbs @tbhiddlestan83 @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger @kikster606 @mjsthrillernp @hiroyukinasukawa

Los Angeles, 2012

That afternoon, the rooftop pool at the Saint Avalon was a pink swirl of bathing beauties in early spring. Tom tried to focus on his deadpan conversation with his agent, but polka dots and silly cocktails danced around him. He pushed his Ray-Bans back into place, his sweat—or perhaps nervousness—causing them to slowly slide off his nose.

"Serious British actor succumbs to being typecast as a Norse sociopath. That's where this is headed, Tom, if we don’t do something, get you something else.” “Do you really want to be known only for Marvel?” he repeated his plea. The words just weren’t sinking in.

Tom laughed and inadvertently tried to change the subject. "Have you been to the La Brea Tar Pits yet, John? It’s wild—10,000 years' worth of dire wolf bones.”

His stare remained galvanized by the poolside girls. They just didn't look like that in London. Number one, the sunshine. Number two, the tans. Number three, well, his girlfriend—or ex-girlfriend, rather—made it hard to look too long at anyone else. So had he ever found himself at a rooftop pool party, he wouldn't have had the chance he was having now.

“Tom, are you paying attention? This is important. You're only here for a week, and we need to move on this role. I need to know if you're a yes.” The truth was, Tom was suddenly filthy rich with his own money for the first time in his life. He really loved being a Norse sociopath and already had big ideas for Loki’s eventual character arc into becoming an anti-hero someday. He had filled three journals on his bedside stand with his ideas for Loki.

His agent tried again, “Just hang out with Giorgio. It’s less than a month. Then the movie should be a very easy shoot. You get to embed yourself with some real hedge fund cats.” Tom’s attention snapped back. “Wait, I like that.” “Right? It’s like if Loki worked on Wall Street.” “Well…” Tom hesitated. He didn’t think Loki would actually ever bore himself that way. Those guys were boring to Tom and to Loki.

His poor agent was right, though. He did need another role. Things had gone so well; filming for the next Avengers movie was starting this summer. If he could find another gig, a time filler, a totally different genre, it really would be the best for his career. “Then a play next,” the agent mused, taking a sip of his own cocktail. “Shakespeare, or something 70s.” “70s? As in the 1570s? Or the 1970s?” “Tom.” “How should I know?” Tom laughed to himself, eyes still canvassing the poolside display around him. His agent leaned across his lawn chair and placed his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “So, you’ll do it?”

Two Weeks Later

Deep down, he knew he didn’t have the dissociation required for the job. He was too corporeal, too embodied. Years of being a long-distance runner and a trained athlete had fastened his mind, heart, and soul firmly into his muscles. He clearly wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings in his highly emotive, sensitive body. That was the first thing he noticed about the guys he was forced to hang out with for this role. They were covered up with their suits and sexist jokes. It was like they had Hadrian’s Wall around them. Which was, in fact, what exactly led to his sudden departure from the bar at Rue 23.

He had been embedded with short and loud Glen, buzz-cut Ellis, and the tall and lanky, just like him, Brad Nelson. There were a few others, but they were too milquetoast to be memorable. Role be damned. He left so fast the thick glass door almost hit a nice young couple as he bolted into the cold Los Angeles spring night.

He wasn’t dressed right; in his haste to leave London, he didn’t remember that California got into the 40s after the sun went down. He didn’t even pack a suit coat. Thank God he remembered to grab his leather pack from under the bar. It contained exactly five cigarettes, a finicky Zippo, his aftershave, a white t-shirt, and a travel toothbrush. There might also be a rolled-up Popular Mechanics magazine from the Burbank airport, something he never would be caught dead reading at Heathrow.

He also hadn’t done so much coke since he was in college. Why was LA always so incredibly cliché? He couldn’t blame Luke. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for this role. He said yes when he was distracted. He was in over his head. They had hired these real blokes to make sure Tom looked authentic when they started filming next month, and given his intense drive for perfection, he had agreed that it was “brilliant” of the casting director to force the eight of them to spend these weeks in Los Angeles and one week in Manhattan, in a true immersive centrifuge of shallow materiality.

The night spun around him, a neon ball of yarn, teasing open his pupils until his eyes were black and not at all blue. As he walked, he ran his large hands down the surface of his body, the material of his shirt feeling like a fancy pillowcase from a boutique hotel.

One finger lingered over his jawline, tracing it as he brought his hands back up to his face. Engrossed in the comfort of his form a moment too long, he was distracted once again. This part of LA seemed to always be full of clusters of locals and tourists, laughing and talking. He was unfortunately moving against the flow of the crowd, a wayward salmon when he almost ran straight into you.

“Watch where you're going!” you yelled, dropping your purse onto the dirty LA sidewalk. It opened enough for your things to tumble out. Tom immediately stopped and bent down to help you, but you batted his hands away. “What the hell? I can pick up my own damn Chapstick,” you scolded. “Ma’am, I am so sorry, I am obviously not from here, and I am a little overwhelmed,” he rattled off. “Why is that obvious?” “My accent, of course.” “I didn’t honestly notice,” you spoke as you inspected the tall man’s face with squinting eyes.

You, of course, did immediately notice the timbre of his voice, his height, and the buttons on his tight shirt which looked like they were in the process of unbuttoning themselves. “Would you believe I’ve been doing coke all night with a bunch of Wall Street assholes at the Rue 23, and I had to get the fuck out of there,” he continued, not sure if you were listening, but you were definitely looking at him, so he continued.

“So now I am wandering the streets of Beverly Hills, and I haven’t the foggiest how the rest of my night will go.” You shuffled your feet for a moment before speaking. You had been heading home after a long day at work. You felt genuinely unprepared for navigating a handsome foreigner in the right direction. Yet there was a certain appeal to a man suddenly without his ship or his crew, so to speak. So you didn’t immediately walk away.

He had been shuffled from the airport to the bar in a hired car, he tried to explain, and his sense of direction bordered on problematic. Further, his flip phone was really only good for texting, and that even took way too long most days. He really did seem high, overwhelmed, and a little lost. He also seemed the type unable to handle any silence in a conversation.

“Do you live far?” he said after suffering through 30 seconds of no discourse. “It’s LA, everything is far.” “Fair enough,” Tom muttered sheepishly, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, which were still somehow unbuttoning themselves. He thought he had bought the right size shirt. Maybe not.

You realized that if you were to ask this too-high, too-hot British man back to your apartment, you would inevitably cave and end up sleeping with him just because he caught you in this particular moment of your life. It was an in-between time. You weren't quite your old self and your new self that you'd been working so hard on, hadn't emerged yet.

“Want to grab something to eat?” You finally offered a neutral segue. That seemed to be just what the man needed to hear. His demeanor calmed. “Oh sure, yes, I could go for a big American cheeseburger, honestly.” “Okay then, let’s go to Patty’s on Vine, we can walk,” you said as you pulled at his shirt to turn him toward the right direction. He bristled at the feeling of your touch.

His whole body was even more sensitive than usual. You looked like the queen of the ancient British Iceni to him. In truth, he didn’t much care for the California look. He loved that you appeared out of nowhere and you looked like Boudica, not like Gwyneth Paltrow. Even though he was sure he heard she was nice. RDJ seemed to really love her.

The diner where you were headed was the second-tier after-hours hang, so it wasn’t populated with the usual crowd, not yet at least. You had some time before you would be inundated, and perhaps before someone would recognize him, which you still did not. You could ask him, of course. Although, sometimes in Los Angeles, the worst part is knowing who someone is.

Although Tom being Tom was unable to resist personal questions. “Tell me a little bit about yourself, just a little,” he had to ask as the night air propelled him quickly down the sidewalk. You considered telling him about your job, but it was just how you paid the bills. Your passions were your passions and not for a stranger. So you decided to be a little goth. It couldn't hurt.

“I have something like anhedonia, I suppose,” you finally said. Tom seemed to know what you meant right away. “The inability to feel?” He spoke. “More classically refined, which results in numbness, making capturing interior somatic sensations nearly impossible,” you clarified. “Sounds like you are depressed,” Tom flattened out your creative retelling of your current state. “Maybe,” although you weren't sure of his simple label. "You think it will pass?" Tom continued, ever the optimist.

You considered one way to try and test if this state you'd been in could possibly change, would be to see if he could provoke feelings of passion or at least some kind of low-grade horniness. You’d been feeling functionally blank for a while now.

He was stunning, after all.

He seemed game for anything, his amphetamine grin taking up the majority of his handsome face. He looked so lovely under the hanging light in your dingy booth. You ate the two-egg special you ordered and watched him devour his American cheeseburger with genuine joy.

“So, you're here to practice for a new part?” You sincerely tried to keep the conversation flowing despite the growing desire to test your theory. “Yes, they want me to branch out. In my career, there’s the fear I am already 'type-casted,' I guess you could say.” “Type-casted? So early on?”

He looked young to you. Possibly younger than you actually. “Yes, I had a big role as a villain, it really blew up, but, he's like a mythological comic book one. I am misunderstood mostly. I mean my character, not me.” "Sure." You nodded in understanding and agreed even if you didn’t quite pick up what he was putting down. You wondered if he had ever seen 'The Last Starfighter.' A favorite movie of yours, you rarely shared with anyone else. Or had he been in that? Your mind wandered. You really didn't recognize him, but you also didn't want to offend him by this fact.

“So how would this role be redefining your abilities? If you are playing a heartless hedge fund dude, isn’t that also a kind of villain? Maybe that is why you got this part.” Tom pondered your insight. He again fell into overthinking and was only a text away from bailing on the entire endeavor. He was becoming that kind of guy, emotionally uneven under his elite veneer.

“I guess they feel like I don’t have the chops to be a 'real world' baddie.” “I needed more practice.” “You don’t?” you said very timidly, suddenly you weren’t hungry anymore. You gently pushed your plate aside so you could focus.

You realized his bromance compadres would find him eventually. Another LA truth: it was hard to get truly lost for long. You had been studying his face during the conversation. His pale complexion was slowly becoming flushed in small increments. Was it shyness or a hidden boldness he was bursting to demonstrate, you couldn't tell.

You had worn your espadrilles today, maybe it wasn’t the right season yet, but they always went so well with your outfit-a flowery dress from H&M. Gently and playfully, you kicked one of them off your foot, making a soft thud. Tom dipped his eyes beneath the table for only a moment and brought them back to you, a new flash of crimson emerging. Why were you taking off your shoes? Maybe your feet hurt from the walk?

He picked up his water and chugged almost all of it.

Your right leg lifted up and found purchase exactly between his, landing on the soft seat. Tom chuckled nervously and grabbed your foot. “Just what are you doing?” “I thought you were in training to be a real villain. Or did I misunderstand that?” You teased. Tom’s sincerity and earnestness were effulgent. “Oh no, I am, I really want the part, I need this role.” Suddenly when the idea of something illicit going on beneath the table loomed, he was not reticent about this new role. “Then you better continue to practice.” You laughed, your own smile forming across your face. “How long do we have until they find you?” You inched your foot closer to his crotch.

Tom took a deep breath in and pulled out his flip phone eyes squinting, trying to see the rectangle text banner across the tiny screen. He held the phone up to you. “Can you read this at all?” You grabbed it from him, feeling his hand shaking a little. It was charming. He was nervous.

You read the tiny screen aloud, “Not really, something about where are you at…you wanker, we are about to call your agent." It did say exactly that, and you wondered if possibly Tom was throwing away this role. Were you watching him collapse his career before your eyes? “Are you one for self-sabotage Tom?” The question seemed to catch him off guard. Maybe no one had asked him so bluntly. “Maybe,” he said after a long minute of typing something on the seemingly minute phone with his long fingers and even larger hands. “Just like I am possibly depressed," you offered. He looked up and sat his phone down. “Yes, I think so. Just like that.”

Incoming

Just then the waitress came by filled your water glasses and gave you another quick refill of coffee. Your chosen sobriety was a strange foil to Tom’s imbibed stimulant cocktail which showed no sign of waning. “So, are we on?” He finally said after biting his bottom lip, for what seemed like a year, until it was slightly puffy.

“For what? A staring contest?” You offered, laughing nervously too, your foot still stationed between his thighs. You wondered what you could accomplish at this hour with the looming threat of an incursion at any moment.

The glimmer in his dilated orbs registered that Tom was now aligned in a mission of testing the perpetuity of your anhedonic state. Suddenly under the table, you felt his long legs spread yours apart, like opening a long-closed window that had been painted over.

You gasped but didn’t say anything. He laughed and widened his legs further. You moved your eyes to watch him under the table, his hand reaching down to adjust his cock, which was obviously becoming hard.

At that moment you wanted to jump over to his side of the booth, you wanted to concede and take him to your far away apartment in embarrassing Marina Del Rey.

Tom went silent and finally let go of your bare foot, he had been holding it so hard with his other hand, that you were sure it would be bruised. You immediately placed it on his now impossibly hard cock, tenting his pants obscenely. Honestly, you’d never given a “foot job” before and only seen something like this in a French film once. You had no idea what you were doing.

You slowly began to move your foot up and down his length, which was quite impressive and required more force than you had anticipated. You curled your toes around him to try and create more friction, dragging your heel just at the base.

You placed your hands on the edge of the diner seat so you could put some real weight into getting him off. That seemed to work, and Tom let out a guttural moan. He quickly grabbed your water glass and drank it in addition to his own.

“Should I stop?” You let yourself wonder out loud. “Are you crazy? No.” Was Tom’s quick reply. “Does this feel good?” “Fuck yes.” His voice was breathy, and he shifted in his seat, daring to look around at the customers, but none showed any sign of noticing anything other than themselves. “But this isn’t fair,” he spoke again softly, panting. “How so?” “Because I am um, I am receiving.” “Aren’t you supposed to be a selfish cold surface-level junior business asshole?” “Yes.” “Then this is what they do, they get foot jobs in diners, amongst other perks of course,” you laughed. “Shit, you’re right,” Tom barely squeaked out.

Just then the diner door opened, and you could see the dim faces of the guys he had been partying with. They finally found him. “Don’t look now but your Republican friends have arrived.” Tom’s flush became pale. “Should I stop?” You checked in again. “No.” His response was as clear as mid-day.

So, you increased your speed, you took a deep breath. You were so turned on at this point. You were positive there would be a wet spot on the cracked vinyl seat. You lifted your skirt up further. Tom noticed and peered beneath the table again. He saw your hand brush past your underwear and a finger curl inside the lace trim. You matched his erratic breathing to your motions as you fucked yourself intently. His eyes were glued to you, his fists almost punching into the flimsy placemats. You laughed to yourself about the chances of you both coming in public, surely, he wouldn’t, or you couldn’t.

You were about to mention that perhaps you should stop. When suddenly Tom let out a muffled cry. His breath hitched. You could feel moisture beneath the bottom of your toes as you brought your foot back to the tip of his generous cock once more. “Ah, I see,” you laughed. "Well looks like we are done here." There was no more time to discuss what just happened. The bros had spotted him and you and made their way to your back corner.

Tom closed his eyes in what looked like a silent prayer. He had just had one of the best orgasms of his life. The short blond one with cropped hair spoke up, “Hiddleston, where the fuck have you been, your agency was about to call the cops, which would have been lame.”

“Hiddleston,” you said his surname out loud. Realizing you never got his last name. Tom looked at you with both lust and remorse. Then turned back to the assholes. “You found me, good work,” he said assuredly. “Well we gotta go dick we have a strip club that closes at 3am and it’s in the contract that we take you there.”

Tom slowly got up and used one of his long fingers to expertly untuck that white button-down shirt to conceal the mess you had both made. He looked your way, the pale blue of his eyes returning.

You exchanged numbers for the pleasantry of it, as the assholes looked on impatiently, probably wondering why Tom was wasting his time on a girl who looked like Boudica, but that's just what assholes do you remembered. Although you really didn’t expect to hear from him again. To your surprise right before dawn, perhaps as he was leaving said strip club, a text came over your Blackberry.

“I hope you felt something, I know I did.” Shit.

You did feel something, a lot of things actually. Tom had brought something back to the solemnly plain bagel of your life. You quickly wrote back.

"Don't let the bros see you texting me Tom, you laughed knowing he was probably squinting and barely able to see your words. You picture all of them looking over his shoulder.

"They went home. Can I come over? I feel like we aren't done quite yet. My asshole-in-training self expires at sunrise and I turn back into the real me. Is that okay?" You blinked a few times just to make sure you saw that correctly. "So you're actually Cinderella," you laughed nervously.

You managed to type your address and push send before pulling your covers over your head and screaming quietly enough to not wake up your still-slumbering roommates. You then looked around your room in quiet delightful horror, you had about 30 minutes to hide all your dirty clothes from the past three months under your bed...

[saffron0v0]

¶Hello¶

Thank you for stopping by!

This is my art blog, but I accidentally reblog stuff here too.

Cookie 🍪 ??

My dear Mutuals (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠):

@habtcher you're so fun, one of my first friends on here

@bunskero Very cool (I low-key look up to you)

Amazing artists, and amazing people

@shycroissanti Role model + big sister energy + Amazing animator in denial.

@sweetstarryeyedgirl The sweetesttt, her energy is always so happy! + Hard worker! (I'll miss you forever)

@kimetsu-chan Always supportive and there for everyone! + Her art and coloring is super unique and pretty! + Pretty aesthetic

@kiyokatokito I love kiyoka + you're very kind

@magnetsonfridges Tanaoi 🔛🔝

@night-mince0 Your blog is so fun and chaotic (in a good way) + Theria is such a cool concept! Good luck with writing it!

@naramaiz Your art is edible + Amari's cookies are delicious

@axolotl321 Your oc is the epitome of adorable

@ta-ni-ya Your art always inspires me! + Sanemi is lucky to have Kirika.

@thesimp-nikki I love seeing your art and silly (in a good way) posts on my dash! + Nikki is just adorable!

@silliestsakura Your tbhk content is so cool!!

@thewinterpillarhashira Your art is literally so soft, and squishable.+ You sure you ain't gotogue?

@cloudymistedskies I love marimui smmm + your ocs are super cool!

@larz-barz You're one of the sweetest people on here + Can I pet Milo?

@muitsuri Your aesthetic is so prettyyy! + Your ocs are all gorgeous!

@giyubabe Giyushino ftw + your Giyuu art is just chef's kiss.

@tokito-dulya20 Your art is so cool! + It's my first time befriending a Ukrainian! You guys are super cool.

@rion-isnot-an-ai I love your art + Hanako is so pretty.

@ashr0 Your writing is just hajdhdhehhdjjfjh So gooood!

@pinkwisteria your art and ocs are so pookie (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

@pandhora So sweet + her aus are so thought out and thorough with so many details. She honestly never fails to impress me! + I love rping with her!

@squidifier I didn't talk to you much, but I think you're cool!

@munchinpumpkin we never spoke, but I like your pfp

@ask-aoi-kanzaki we don't talk at all, but I love aoi <3.

@bugzheadquarter I love Detective Conan, I like your art, and I like you/p

@dreamcorechild your art is so tiny, and fluffy + you're so valid for falling for the upper four demons, they're so (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠)

@animatoonstudios Tbhk moot (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

@renikyoki Giyuu looks so cute/cool (at the same time) in your art style!

Go give them all a follow, they're super nice, talented and friendly!

Edit: Okay wow, I need to get this updated.

Sideblogs:

@saffron-reblogs (reblog account)

@saffron-rose (writing)

@ivy-lo (tbhk blog)

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆°°°°°°°°°°°°∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

DNI INTERACT IF YOU'RE PRO-ISRAEL/ANTI PALESTINE

✓🇵🇸🇵🇸✓

******************★«‰»★*******************

Note: Self love is the most important type of love, at least that's true in my opinion. I hope that influences yours

[mythicalgeek]

Addressing how Persephone is sexualized in Lore Olympus.

Soooo... here's the thing, I LOVE Lore Olympus. I love the art style, the magic, how it mixes greek mythology with the modernday and it's reimagine of the character's, that it's not afraid to deel with sierous issue and I relate with Persephone on a very personal level. I found the webtoon at a time when I really needed an escape from things happing in my life and Lore Olympus was there comfort and inspire me.

I have a lot of love for this webtoon, however... there's some problems I had with how Persephone was sexualized in the first season. There were moment's where she was viewed in a fetishized male gaze that was ... not great 😖 (case and point 👇)

This portrayal unfortunately falls under the sexy baby trope and I found this very strange and out of place in a story that is suppose to a feminine retelling of greek mythology.

Now I dont mind that Persephone is sexualized since she is of age and it's a part of her character arc. Her story is about gaining agency after being sheltered her whole life and understanding her sexuality is a part of that. Her reclaiming of her trauma and sexuality is one of the reasons way a lot of people enjoy the webtoon and can relate with this verson of Persephone.

So why is she portrayed under the male gaze in a way that does not support the core of her character? It's especially worse when we are seeing Persephone through Hades eye's, witch doesn't help since the age gap is a controversial topic in the fandom and a lot people think that LO is pedophilia, and these moment's didint help the romance or Hades as a character.

And that sucks because as far a retelling of the Hades and Persephone myth goes, I acually like how most of there relationship is handled and the age gap dose not bother me as mush, mostly because I think that Hades is somewhat emotional stunted do to his trauma and that him and Persephone are at the same level intellectually, and a lot of there relationship is quite healthy albeit some what codependent. It definitely is not perfect and I do wish that the romance could have been handle defiantly at times, mostly with the framing and the language that they use in some scenes.

I've seen some people compare Lore Olympus to Twilight and Fifty Shades of Gray and even though there are some similarities ( both having a young woman discovering her sexuality and a immortal or rich boyfriend/ husband), but the core difference is that Hades is not abusive or possessive twords Persephone and treats her with respect.

Lucky with season 2 and 3 the gross male gaze moment's where mostly removed and we saw more of the female gaze, (not just because we got more shirtless Hades 🤭) but because of how Persephone is portrayed sexually. (case and point 👇)

Persephone isn't fetishized like she is in season 1 instead she's shown as powerful and has agentsy over her own boby, the focus is more on the intimacy, connection and longing between her and Hades and when we do see Persephone trough Hades eye's she's viewed with tenderness and seen as a beautiful desirable women and not a sexy baby. Also it should be notice that after the ten year banishment Persephone is thirty year's old when she and Hades gets married and have sex for the first time.

This some what redeemed Lore Olympus for me and even though the webtoon it far from perfect there is nothing wrong enjoying and finding value in this story as long we view it with our brain's turnd on.

Just to be clear this not a anti Lore Olympus post, I am simply addressing one of the problematic aspects of the webtoon because I feel like we should acknowledge it's flaws while enjoying the story and characters.

[rupalpspodrace]

ICYMI: The Chilean Star Wars Visions short, "In the Stars" was inspired by the genocide of the Selk'nam, an indigenous group in Patagonia.

You can read a little bit about that here:

But yesterday, after a long campaign, the Selk'nam finally gained official recognition from the Chilean government:

Here's a little bit in English about what it means for them to be officially recognized, and what it took to get there (written beforehand):

This official recognition also includes the Chilean government admitting its fault in the genocide publicly, which is a really big deal.

Also, a movie about the Selk'nam genocide, "The Settlers" (Los Colonos), which won an award at Cannes, was also just selected by the Chilean Film Academy as Chile's entry for the Oscars this year (and will be coming out for wider audiences soon!):

"In the Stars", sadly, was disqualified from the Emmys this year on a TECHNICALITY - there will be NO short form animated entries this year because of a mess behind the scenes.

All that being said, it's wonderful news for the Selk'nam this week, and it's really cool when Star Wars reflects a real world struggle against fascism.

[wildflowerteas]

The Second Perspective ♠

A masterthread/post of all the easter-eggs, fun facts, and references to literature, BSD canon, film noir, and history included in my Soukoku fic, The Second Perspective.

♠

The Timeline ->

1958 to 1978

The gap of twenty years was super intentional. By the late 50s, McCarthy was censured by the senate, the Second Red Scare and anti-Soviet rhetoric were slowly losing public support and popularity. My choice to include the Rats in the House of the Dead was mediated by that fact. The late 50s is also when the LAPD and law enforcement across the country started making psychological evaluations ( of suspect quality ) mandatory, starting in Northern California, actually. Kinsey's publications in 1948 and 1953 were explosive--especially to the stifling, extremely heteronormative, nuclear-family morals of post-war 50s America. In 1970s, the term 'Serial Killer' officially enters the public's vocabulary. Despite not being an ongoing investigation, the re-opening of the Angel's Ripper case aligns with what is called the 'golden age' of serial killers. The 'second look' and the desire to re-sensationalize the case is due to Detective Dazai's belongings turning up, but also timely, as it would feed into the public's paranoia and fascination. I took some liberties with Los Angeles's mayoral election schedule ( which, if I'd been meticulous and historically accurate with, would have had TSP take place in the early days of 1977 or late in 1976 ). Los Angeles in the 70s was also suffering from serious smog--almost 200 bad air days a year. Akutagawa's lung condition ( which hasn't been touched on just yet with the exception of a throwaway lines at Tycheron and with Yosano ) is largely due to this bad air quality.

July 17th, 1958

The date of the Red Camellia murder was also chosen with intention. July, the peak of summer, rife with Americana, fireworks, and full California beaches, is everything the winter season of Camellia isn't.

Organizations -> The Double Black

A bit obvious, really, but the club's logo of the two black Ace playing cards is an obvious nod to Soukoku being equally matched partners, even if in this au their dynamic is wildly different ( If anything, Chuuya has the upper hand in this one--even if he doesn't quite know it yet ). The Double Black is also described as more Golden Age of Hollywood-like, since Kouyou runs it and she's quite the traditionalist, I figured she'd cringe ( or pass out ) at the sight of plastic plants in the vases and blue carpeting.

The Golden Coast Guild

The TSP equivalent of Hearst corporation, run by William Randolph Hearst, a media company that covered everything from celebrity gossip to politics with over a dozen papers and magazines. Hearst became obscenely rich, and in real life, used his wealth to support Marion Davies, an actress ( and his mistress ), whose life he nearly ruined. F. Scott Fitzgerald ( the actual author ) loathed Hearst's willingness to print yellow journalism ( basically, bullshit ) and Jay Gatsby's mansion is loosely inspired by Hearst's home in New York, I believe. I thought it would be funny to combine the two. I also have a soft spot for Fitz in canon, even if he does speak with the sound of a cash register in every word and there's an American flag behind him wherever he goes.

Tycheron and the House of the Dead

First, Tycheron, Sigma's casino business, gets it's name from the Greek goddess of luck--Tyche--named Fortuna by the Romans. I couldn't call it the 'Sky Casino' because well, there's no sky. But a goddess is pretty up there. California gambling law is extremely complicated, but casino boats, docked 3 nautical miles outside of state borders ( usually from a point in Santa Monica, where the bay/bight made those laws a bit easier to work around ) were a neat exception--at least, until they started getting repurposed for WWII. So, Sigma still evades the law by being 'out of bounds' with The Angelica gambling boat. The casino business as a way for the DoA to stick their noses into the L.A. political landscape is also a loose reference to Bugsy Siegel, and the Italian-American Mafia's attempts to expand westward with the establishment of casinos and the nurturing of Las Vegas. Siegel's mansion, where he was murdered for his thefts from the Mafia, also inspired the Mori estate.

Characters ->

The Red Camellia

The real life Nakahara Chuuya was quite the romantic. His poetry is described as 'Bohemian,' so I thought having him be a bit of a drifter-like character, almost mysterious and unnatainable to his fans and SSKK in the present, would be a bit similair to how much of what we know of Chuuya doesn't come from the main story in canon, either. Combining that with Dazai's obsessive desire to lock him in ( haha ) with a comitted relationship and his serious levels of devotion, makes for a pretty interesting dynamic, I think. Though, Dazai's no Catherine Tramell, and Chuuya is certainly not Curran--BI's dynamic has been flipped almost completely with TSP, but the crazy is the same. And though I describe him as a drifter, that's not to say this au's Chuuya isn't fiercely loyal, it's just his loyalties haven't had the chance to be tested just yet. I made the choice to have Chuuya called the Red Camellia in life because it's a direct subversion of other flower-tagged murders like: the White Rose murders, the Lilac Murder of William Desmond Taylor, the Black Dhalia ( inspired by the film, Blue Dhalia ), the White Gardenia murder, etc. etc. All of those monikers are posthumous, and created for the sole purpose of selling the story of a dead individual. Also, rather than having a journalist bestow it to him, Dazai is the one who comes up with it. Do what you will with that info . . . Additionally, Camellia japonica is native to East Asia, not the U.S. It can survive here, but it will struggle. The choice to set the story in L.A., in a period of harsh post-war crackdowns on Japanese/East-Asian immgiration into California also influenced this title. It was also a choice made based on the appearance of 椿Tsubaki in Soukoku official art. Their Japanese meaning of passionate love and a noble death, also holds true here.

KEY LAPD Characters with interesting qualities

Sasaki Nobuko, Homicide Detective - reference to canon Sasaki's background in criminology and experience as a lecturer at a Tokyo university. Captain -> Commander Fukuzawa Yukichi - Holds a position of authority similar to his role as the ADA's president in canon, but he's unenthusiastic about his career in the LAPD.

Note the lack of private eyes in the story so far!

Interesting PM Character references keeping this light for obvious, spoiler-y reasons

Elise - Elise is intentionally a grown woman in this au. And a nurse! A reference to both her presentation in BEAST and the Great War in the main BSD storyline, and a reminder of the timeline ( she'd have been 8-10 years old in the past TL! ). Her feisty nature is also retained. I was inspired by Lauren Bacall's Vivian in The Big Sleep, especially her meeting scene with Marlowe, when writing her meeting with Atsushi at the Mori Estate.

***SPOILERS procede with caution***

The Angel's Ripper

A reference to Los Angeles, but also Dazai's title as the Demon prodigy of Yokohama. Ripper, rather than Killer being used because of the surgical nature of the deaths ( Jack the Ripper was thought to be either a doctor or a policeman ).

Films ->

some of my major inspirations for this fic are:

Chinatown ( 1974 )

The Maltese Falcon ( 1941 )

Vertigo ( 1958 )

Last Night in Soho ( 2021 )

The Batman ( 2022 )

The Third Man ( 1949 )

The Silence of the Lambs ( 1991 )

The Big Sleep ( 1946 ) and lastly, on a much lighter note:

The Nice Guys ( 2016 ) I couldn't get Gosling's outfits out of my head after watching it. I took one look and thought: I need to get a BSD character in this obnoxiously-70s blue suit yellow shirt combo ASAP.

Phew. What a mess. This has largely been for me to keep track of my own thoughts and the tangled web I've been weaving with this fic, and it will likely get several updates over the course of me writing the second half of Part II and ( the much shorter ) Part III to TSP. But if you read it, and enjoyed it, I'm extra glad <3 I've been having a blast talking about my love for these films and this AU after keeping it bottled up for so long. I'm like shaken, corked champagne haha.

Signing off with the aesthetic of The Second Perspective's ending:

ty <3

[ultravioletqueen]

Hace mucho tiempo que escucho canciones del musical de heathers y mi favorita de todas es "i say no" ya que es cuando verónica reconoce que no hay nada que hacer con jd,reconoce que el no va a cambiar y que no vale la pena estar con alguien que la usa como excusa para hacer cosas malas,simplemente me encantan estas escenas en las que los personajes confrontan a sus parejas abusivas y reconocen que merecen algo mejor.

Ahora últimamente he vuelto a consumir contenido de she-ra y las princesas del poder y me doy cuenta de que ODIO EL CATRADORA Y TODO LO QUE TENGA QUE VER CON CATRA.

¿En que se relaciona esto con la canción de heathers i say no? Simple,esta canción es el ejemplo perfecto de como pudieron manejar la "relación" de catra y adora al final,catra es irredimible y adora merecía decirle sus verdades en la cara,solo dejaré la letra algo modificada para este escenario ideal que tengo de adora dejando a catra en el polvo por todo lo que le ha hecho pasar,no planeo traducir la letra al español porque sino sonaría muy raro.

Para esto me inspire en los post de @spop-romanticizes-abuse y @anti-catradora-collection

I have been listening to songs from the Heathers musical for a long time and my favorite of all is "I Say No" since it is when Veronica recognizes that there is nothing to do with JD, she recognizes that he is not going to change and that he is not worth being around with someone who uses her as an excuse to do bad things, I just love these scenes where the characters confront their abusive partners and recognize that they deserve better.

Now lately I've been consuming She-Ra and the Princesses of Power content again and I realize that I HATE CATRAdora AND EVERYTHING THAT HAS TO DO WITH CATRA.

How does this relate to Heathers' song I Say No? Simple, this song is the perfect example of how they were able to handle Catra and Adora's "relationship" in the end, Catra is irredeemable and Adora deserved to tell her truths to her face, I will only leave the lyrics somewhat modified for this ideal scenario that I have for Adora Leaving Catra in the dust for everything she's put her through, I don't plan to translate the lyrics into Spanish because otherwise it would sound very strange.

I was inspired by the posts of @spop-romanticizes-abuse and @anti-catradora-collection

(Adora)

"You are a drug

You are a poison pill

I’ve got to kick this habit now

Or else I never will

I hated the rush

When you would hold me close

And you will not be satisfied

Until I overdose

This is it

Hit the brake

I am finally awake

Let me be

Let me go

You need help

I can’t provide

I am not qualified

This troubled teen is getting clean

I say no"

(Catra)

"Adora, who else is gonna be-"

(Adora)

"No, no, no, no!

Don’t say a word

You speak and I cave in

You’ll twist the truth again

And drill deep down beneath my skin

You said you’d change

And I believed in you

But you’re still using me to justify the harm you do

This is it

Hit the brake

Call it all my mistake

Long as you let me go

You need help

I can’t provide

I’m not your friend

You’re not mine

It’s not too late

I’m getting straight

I say no!

Blame your childhood, blame shadow weaber

Blame the life you never had

But hurting people? That’s your choice, nobody to blame

But I believe that love will win

And hate will earn you nothing in the end

This is the end!"

(Catra,pulling out her claws)

"But I love you!"

(Adora)

"You-

This is it!

I won’t cry

Starting now, I will try

To pay back

All the karma you owe!

Start again

Somewhere new

Far from monsters like you

So goodbye

'Cause now I'm

Saying no!

Just in time!

I say no!

Somehow I’m saying no!

Just say no!

I say no!

No!"

[silvergeek]

About Tolkien "fans"....

I've spent the last 25+ years studying Tolkien fans. I thought I was indulging in the books and the fantasy lore but, lo and behold, I was mostly interacting with the other fans. And let me tell you something... the bulk of them are assholes.

The first die hard Tolkien fan I met was a boy in my high school freshman English literature class. The year was 1995. We were all assigned to read The Hobbit and, I would have to agree, 14 years of age is the perfect age to get to reading it if you hadn't started it in middle school.

A boy in my class had already read it, plus the LOTR trilogy, as well as The Silmarillion. What ensued for the rest of that semester was this particular boy dominating class discussions and telling everyone else what was going to happen in the book before we'd reached that chapter. This boy wasn't gifted by any means, just a superfan. I found him annoying by the end of the semester. He nearly ruined the book for me.

I loved reading The Hobbit and that assignment inspired me to read the rest of the LOTR books, but I'll never not associate my introduction to Tolkien with the blathering and nerdsplaining of that loud mouthed teenage boy.

Then, in my early 20's, I met a man. We were, well, married in the early 2000's. (It didn't last. We divorced just four years later.)

He was one of those Tolkien fans who had a monopoly on the franchise. Nevermind that I'd also read the books and saw the original trilogy in theaters. He was The Expert on Tolkien mythos, and don't you forget that. Also, I came to learn that he was a huge racist. He kept that reined in around me, letting it gradually bleed out over the years until he finally dropped all pretenses and voiced every racist thought that crossed his mind.

Oddly, his love of Tolkien was intimately associated with his love of Nordic and Anglo culture, coupled with his unfiltered disdain for African American people. He also boasted that he loved Wagner, a notorious anti-semite, and said it was my first name (I was named after a famous european fairytale that was adapted into one of Wagner's operas) that originally drew him to me.

He made black jokes, jew jokes, dropped n-bombs, the list goes on. The more racist he became, the more he revealed other ugly aspects of himself and the less I loved him -- and eventually grew to loathe him. I filed for divorce and that was that. But he was a preachy, die hard, you-don't-know-Tolkien-lore-better-than-me, nordic pride racist.

Odd, considering Tolkien’s revulsion for Hitler. Anyway...

Moving forward, I have spent the last few months in and out of Tolkien discord chats, mainly observing the others chatting. The "fans". Oh they know their lore. Yes they do. They have it memorized like the holy bible. They fight over concepts of if whether or not orcs were corrupted elves or corrupted men. They revere Tolkien almost like a deity. Some of them have this misguided concept that Tolkien lived in "old England", like "ye olde" with that extra "e" on there and everything. But the truth is that Tolkien died literally ten years before I was born and while The Hobbit was being published, the Three Stooges was playing at the cinema.

Point is, their memories of the lore are photographic, pretentiously spelling Sauron's name like "Þauron" and everything, but their memories and concepts of the author are distorted. It almost reminds me of how American nationalists deify the "founding fathers". (Typically to push some outmoded, traditionalist agenda onto the masses by law.)

When I look back on how much of Tolkien’s work that I've read and enjoyed, from The Silmarillion to The Return of the King, and I look at how many of the adaptations I've watched on screen (the cartoons, the live action trilogy, suffered through the Hobbit films, and now I quite enjoy the Rings of Power), I know deep down that I am a fan because I thoroughly enjoy the content that this world of middle earth has inspired. Whether it inspired J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, or the creators of the cartoons as well as the live action Amazon prime series, this world is rife with storytelling possibilities.

Isn't that what stories become? There are so many variations on folk fairy tales in of themselves. Hell, as I mentioned, I was named after one and then centuries later an anti-semite composed an opera about it! No one begrudged him for that.

Greek myths became cartoons, European fantasy folk tales became mass marketed table top games, and an overwhelming number of Japanese lore has been adapted into manga comics, video games, and anime cartoons.

And this trend of human storytelling and adaptation will continue until the sun swallows us up. Yes it will.

And yet... the "hardcore" Tolkien fanbase... it hasn't changed in my lifetime.

At the end of the day, they are still that 14 year old little boy yelling over the class discussion.

[subliminalbo]

Mind Control In the Wild #2: Prince of Darkness

Hotness: 2 Context: 4 Creativity: 3 Final Score: 2.78

Watch this scene here. You can rent or buy Prince of Darkness on Amazon.

You might have seen a clip from this one floating around Youtube as a 240p video with a name like "Female Posession 11" (searching random clips of mind control scenes is a rite of passage for hypnofetishists around the world). Prince of Darkness is a profoundly strange and creepy movie that stands out as one of the more underrated films in John Carpenter's filmography. Since Carpenter is the namesake for my own Carpenter State University, it felt appropriate to cover this one.

In Prince of Darkness, Carpenter blends science fiction themes into biblical myth and the product is a cosmic horror story where Jesus Christ was an alien, Satan is a tank of mind controlling goo, and its followers seek to summon an even more powerful apocalypse god from a mirror dimension. Also Alice Cooper commands an army of zombie homeless people. Carpenter is absolutely cooking here.

All of the action takes place in a Catholic monastery in Los Angeles. For Carpenter, it's a return to smaller, less studio-supported filmmaking. The closed setting kind of gives it an "Assault on Precinct 13 but with zombies" vibe. A group of scientists go to the monastery to research a mysterious tank of seemingly sentient goo that a priest discovered in the basement. The scientists quickly learn that the goo is the literal anti-Christ. While alone in the basement, Susan (played by character actor Anne Marie Howard) is summoned before the tank of goo. A jet of liquid suddenly sprays from the tank into her mouth, making her its first convert.

After that, Susan stalks through the monastery converting her fellow scientists in a stretch that includes some absolute hall of fame mind control acting from Howard. If you dig cosmic horror in your mind control stories, there's great content here.

The next to be converted is Lisa, who awakens to find Susan crawling over her in bed with wide, empty eyes. Lisa seems to misinterpret this as a sexual advance, but before she can protest, another jet of liquid shoots out of Susan's mouth and slides down Lisa's throat.

There's this great moment where another scientist finds Lisa repeatedly typing, "I Live!" before Susan pounces from the corner.

The thing is that these scenes are better mind control fetish content as short clips on Youtube than within the greater context of the film. It's not like Ghostbusters where the possession is deliberately sexy and is ultimately a weird detour in a random week of Dana's life. In Prince of Darkness, the converted are essentially zombies, there's quite a bit of gore, and it's unambiguous that they die when the anti-Christ does, which is a bummer if you watch your movies based on how hot the mind control is. You probably shouldn't though, right?

Despite its mid score on the Subliminalbo Scale, this one has actually been really influential for my own smut which is why it was the second thing I thought of when I started this series. The transmission of a sentient mind controlling goo as a fluid from one person to another was a huge inspiration when I was developing Assimilation.

Carpenter explores mind control in quite a few of his movies (some even less sexy than here, like The Thing, which is not mind control but plays with similar tropes that at least makes it mind control adjacent). If you're looking for hot mind control in a John Carpenter movie, Big Trouble In Little China probably has the best example. Though it wasn't a direct influence on my manips, it features whitewash eyes which is pretty cool. The reason I'm talking about Prince of Darkness instead of Big Trouble In Little China is because the former's had a bigger impact on me as a writer (and the mind control in Big Trouble is comparatively brief and less impactful to the story).

It looks like a lot of Prince of Darkness clips have been taken down from Youtube since I was a weird kid starving for mind control content, but you can find the full scene of Susan's possession on there right now. If you're into cosmic horror, I definitely recommend the movie, but I wouldn't call it essential for someone who wants to see some hot mind control.

[itsnotthaaatserious]

i'm a casual reader of lore olympus. i enjoy it passively for what it is and check tumblr after updates just to ruminate on it a bit or catch the thoughts of other fans. i have no intention of talking about lore olympus at length or even really using this blog because, honestly? lore olympus is not that serious. it's a soap opera inspired by greek myths with a pseudo modern aesthetic. it's campy, cookie cutter, and sure as fuck not the place i would go to to get a fresh or faithful take on the persephone/hades myth. i mean it's a webtoon for fuck's sake. a cursory look at the art style and marketing will tell you all you need to know about how deep this story's going to be.

And yet. the tags on this godforsaken website are absolutely overrun with anti lo / lo critical hot takes expressing the oh-so-novel idea that lo isn't very good, to which i say... no shit? the art's inconsistent/disproportionate. writing is often mid. characterization is... ok, i'll show my hand here. I think a lot of people's problems with the characters themselves is just a fundamental disagreement on interpretation, because the greek gods are by and large colossal assholes and can be twisted to be as saintly or sinister as you want them to be. that particular point is just a subjective "noooo my greek god/goddess blorbo was done so dirty" without taking anything else (such as creative decisions) into consideration. but i digress.

my ultimate point here is the pseudo intellectuals getting worked up over a webtoon soap opera are fucking annoying. greek mythology has been adapted TO DEATH because it is the most well known mythology in human history. if you don't enjoy lo there is nothing wrong with that. after all, as i already said, it's not that good - it's the equivalent of trash tv. so why the everloving fuck are so many people so pressed and dedicated to criticizing lo? literally just go find a different adaptation. lo is hardly a cultural juggernaut forever tainting the high-brow sophistication of greek mythology (lmao) and your constant need to fill the tags with criticism is more indicative of how emotionally invested you are in this comic than the actual quality of the comic itself. i swear to god almost all these posts i see average under a 100 notes. lo barely has a fandom presence on tumblr. the fuck are you all doing.

anyway *steps off my soapbox*

[cantstayawaycani]

Trigger warning for casual racism, sexual content and violence. Most of the content is in Spanish though.

Yes the international community is missing a lot of details and hopefully will be more supportive of thr victims afterwards.

https://twitter.com/LayBb_/status/1330730517839265794

https://laverdadnoticias.com/espectaculos/MeToo-Tenoch-Huerta-actor-en-Narcos-Mexico-es-senalado-por-acoso-sexual-20190329-0030.html

https://www.infobae.com/america/mexico/2022/11/30/tenoch-huerta-confeso-que-los-juegos-sexuales-que-practica-son-deliciosos/

(golden showers/watersports and scat/dirty rimming )

https://twitter.com/TenochHuerta/status/1434276962936180742

Comparing a politician to a gorilla/monkey via reblog

https://www.enelradar.com/chismes/Aseguran-que-Tenoch-Huerta-mantuvo-una-relacion-con-la-mujer-de-un-politico-20221125-0017.html

https://www.tvynovelas.com/amp/famosos/Acusan-a-Tenoch-Huerta-de-haber-sido-infiel-y-aprovechado-20221117-0008.html

Other accusations :

https://www.infobae.com/mexico/2023/06/13/actriz-fernanda-tosky-acusa-a-tenoch-huerta-no-fue-respetuoso-en-lo-sexual/

There is rumors he sleeps with some fans and is generally a womanizer (also why his dms were open and thirst traps) . Mexicans citizens might have more local details.

He sleeps with light women and hides his internalised racism and classism (other Mexican tweets will appear). Self interested performative activism.

11 women die a day in Mexico, the world has a huge problem with feminicide and misogyny sadly.

I'm also disappointed and hurt that such a man became an inspiration for so many woc/poc.

You seem a lovely human being. I'm sorry for the details. Support anti colorist and anti racism women 🙏🏾

I need to work my way through this, but thanks for sending.

The internet is a cesspool so I truly hope these are credible sources.

Also, apologies, but I do not consider Twitter a source of factual information when it comes to stuff like this, unless by an accredited journalist who has done SOME investigation work.

But I will read through this as objectively as possible.

It may not seem like it, but I am extremely pro woman, especially irl.