#but the symbolism guys... the symbolism...

[discar]

The fact that Superman was originally a very clear Moses allegory was intentional, too. Superman has ALWAYS been doing the "immigrant proves to be a better American than the natives" thing.

Oh! And David Corenswet is the first Jew to play Superman! Also definitely intentional!

excuse me for stating the obvious but like. james gunn outright calling superman an immigrant and doubling down on it when he got backlash (because he IS an immigrant, that's the point of superman) + the in-movie dialogue of "aren't you going to read me my rights?" "you're an extraterrestrial, son. you haven't got any rights to read." + the violence of his arrest and how they torture and mistreat him unapologetically, all under the guise of "protecting america", in a film releasing during the onslaught of violent ICE kidnappings and abuse... yeah it's really no wonder right-wing knobheads are crying about this being woke. they're being forced to look directly at the reasons one of the most notorious heroes of all time would not be on their side. and that's only ONE of the reasons this movie covers

[andoutofharm]

i am sure others will say this better/more cohesively but this was the general narrative i got from All That:

The black parade gets pulled back to perform + also be the ones narrating/directing executions. they are also the ones providing a soundtrack to the nuclear war that is going on around them.

Gerard is resisting this, as seen by how he mocks the guy with the rose and gets slapped for it, then takes off his jacket and reads a book and then gets literally manhandled back into his jacket for teenagers.

teenagers is very specifically the soundtrack to propaganda the band is being forced to perform, with commercials/reality tv/talk show clips going on behind them.

this is followed up by a an angry rendition of disenchanted, where the very prominent dictator and flag imagery serve as an example of exactly what the band is disenchanted about/what they oppose but are being forced to promote.

In famous last words the band, lead by gerard, make a stand against the dictator and refuse to participate. as a result gerard is executed onstage and the rest of the band dragged away to meet a similar fate.

EDITED TO ADD:

prev yes this is an important addition!! especially bc the deer was sort of the symbol of draag but!!! it decayed!!! it rotted away to nothing!!! there’s definitely meaning there as well! ​like. rogue 1 kinda vibes. they all died but their resistance was instrumental in bringing it down.

[secretly-a-trekkie]

Perspective doodle of the Guys™️

[thehmn]

I said I was done and then you reblog with that photo!? At this point you guys might want to consider filtering some tags if you’re sick of this post.

I can almost guarantee you Kojima made him wear that because Refn isn’t a weeaboo. He seems way more interested in Vietnamese and Thai culture and their spiritual practices.

He went on a very long rant about white men being the least evolved type of human because, according to him, white men are the least spiritual creatures on Earth which is why they’re ruining our planet. They can’t sense what everyone else can and are therefore more materialistic. Mind you, it’s not that white men can’t be spiritual, just that they are generally less spiritual overall according to Refn.

The whole thing was brought on by one of his female family members having some sort of experience with a ghost in a Thai hotel room and the staff immediately calling a shaman to take care of the problem free of charge instead of dismissing her. The whole thing seems to have had a pretty profound effect on him because instead of thinking “Everyone here are just hysterical” he came to the conclusion “Something must be wrong with ME if I’m the only person who can’t sense anything in this room” He’s like the opposite of a horror movie dad. He can’t see it but he believes his family.

He also had an experience at a hospital where he was close to having a panic attack after his wife gave birth with a lot of screaming and even more blood, and then an elderly nurse called him over to look at the gooey afterbirth still dripping with blood and told him the tree of life is visible in the veins if you hold it up to the light and he thought “Jesusfuckingchrist women are tough and connected to the life force in a way men can only dream of!”

That’s also why in the last scene of his movie Only God Forgives the white male main character willingly gets his arms (which he use to commit violence against others) chopped off by an Asian man in nature. Refn explained that it’s a sort of symbolic castration of a white man by a superior Asian man. As a white man himself he obviously doesn’t think white men should be castrated or killed, just that they should accept that they’re less evolved than literally all other humans.

I got a bit off track there. Point being, do not ask me how much of this plays into his relationship with Kojima but it can’t be an insignificant amount seeing as Kojima appears as the biggest expert on all things supernatural in Refn’s Netflix series Copenhagen Cowboy while Refn himself plays a pathetic businessman who is forced to make a penis for another man.

And bringing it back to the matching anime girls photo, I’m sure Kojima likes a lot of things about the anime but I’ve also noticed he likes when anime has mature gay/bi characters in them. He’s one of the few Japanese creators who leaves you with zero questions about his age preferences; as mature as possible. Sure, people in their 20’s can be pretty and sell more games but 30’s and 40’s are better and now that he has entered his 60’s he finally seems to be the age of the people he’s most attracted to.

I’m sure you’ll all be happy to hear that Hideo Kojima is living his best life after leaving Konami. Not only did he get to frolic around with Mads Mikkelsen, he also got himself a sub. You think I jest but...

Translation: Refn is a kinkster who use his movies to express his kinks. He knows Kojima is a kinkster too who also puts his kinks in his games and that he’s going to use Refn for something that turns Kojima on, and Refn thinks that’s hot. Their’s is a relationship you probably shouldn’t dig too much into.

+ Bonus: confused and scared Kojima fanboys

[pinkflames]

GUYS IF YOU CLICK ON HIS NAME IN THE MURCH STORW IT TURNS INTO AN EVO SYMBOL I-

[goonforgeto]

push to pass

f1 driver!nanami x perfumer!reader

SYNOPSIS — It’s your big break: a private commission from a high-profile client brings you and your small-town French perfumery to gorgeous Monaco in the middle of July, where you’ve just begun setting up your first standalone boutique. But between construction delays, holiday crowds, and the chaos of Grand Prix weekend, peace is hard to come by. And when a handsome stranger stumbles into your unfinished shop—seeking shelter from the paparazzi and asking for a chance to see you again—your careful plans start to unravel in ways you never expected.

CONTENT — mdni, age gap (nanami is 31, reader is 23), takes place in the 1950s, inaccurate f1 history/general history inaccuracies, i cannot stop talking about f1 im sorry, hotel lobby reference wink wink, loss of virginity, nanami has a HUGE dick, semi public sex, public making out, thigh riding, fingering, oral (f! receiving), cum eating, creampie, unprotected piv sex, floor sex, biting/licking, strangers to lovers, mentions of a character death, fast paced romance, angst, happy ending

a/n: this fic is for @lily-bisque’s summer bash collab! thank you sooo much guys for like over 800 notes on part 1, ive never gotten that much on something that isnt an smau and im soooo grateful for every tiny like or reblog ily guys!

push to pass | masterlist | divider | part 1

July, 1956

“Welcome, madame,” your boutique manager greets, her accent prominent, eyes bright as you drop your travel-worn bags into the back of the perfumery.

You exhale as the cool, familiar scent of rose oil and bergamot washes over you, soothing the ache of the early train ride from Grasse. 

“Thank you, Colette,” you murmur, undoing the buttons of your linen coat. “How’s the stock looking?”

“Ready. Nervous,” she adds with a little smile, “but ready.”

It’s been almost a year since you opened the Monaco boutique. Though you still spend most of your time in Grasse, where your creations come to life, the boutique on the Riviera has become something of a symbol.

And timing, especially this weekend, is everything.

Outside, the city is already humming with Grand Prix tension. You can feel it in the air, thick with heat and engine smoke, the streets narrowing with barricades and velvet ropes. It’s not even noon and there are already men in suits drinking champagne on balconies and women in silks parading down the promenade like it’s a runway. The kind of crowd that lives for spectacle. The kind of crowd that will wander into your boutique curious, and leave with something expensive in their purse.

If you play it right.

The little bell above the door jingles as Colette unlocks it for the day, the gold-painted letters on the window catching the light.

What once was a dream is now pressed into reality: scent cards, silk ribbons, etched bottles, and the signature line—the very one that started it all. The perfume you made that week last year. The one that still clings to a memory you never quite shook.

You run your fingers over the familiar bottle, the lavender still present, faint and steady.

“Do you think it’ll be as crowded as last year?” Colette asks.

You nod, distracted. “Probably more.”

“I know it’ll be busy,” Colette says as she lines up the scent blotters near the cash desk, glancing sideways at you, “but do you think I could have a little time off this Sunday?”

You lift your head from the inventory sheet. “Sunday? What for?”

She hesitates—just long enough to seem guilty. “I was hoping to get an autograph.”

You arch a brow. “From?”

“Kento Nanami,” she says quickly, like she’s been holding it in all morning. “He’s doing a signing. Just a short one near the paddock entrance. Can you believe it? He never talks to the press, never does fan events—but this weekend, he’s actually showing up.”

You blink, caught off guard, the name punching through you with more force than you’d like to admit.

“He is?” you manage, keeping your tone even.

She nods, warming to her excitement now. “It’s all over the radio. Apparently his team asked him to do more public appearances this season. And now that he’s top of the standings again, people are calling it his golden year. Everyone’s dying to see him. Especially if the rumors about him retiring are true.”

Your eyes drop back to the sheet in front of you, though the numbers have already blurred into nonsense.

“I don’t mind if it’s just a few hours,” Colette continues gently. “I’ve never seen him in person.”

A beat passes. You nod. “Go ahead. Just coordinate with Léon so someone’s on the floor.”

She smiles, grateful and a little giddy. “Thank you, madame.”

But you barely hear her.

You slip out the back door just after noon, the boutique humming with low conversation and the occasional jingle of the entry bell. Colette’s handling the front just fine, and the deliveries are all accounted for.

You figure you’ve earned ten minutes and a cigarette.

The alley behind the boutique is shaded and narrow, still damp from last night’s wash of summer rain. You lean against the wall, one foot crossed over the other, and strike a match with the easy rhythm of someone who’s done this a thousand times before.

The first drag hits slow and warm.

You’re halfway through when a sharp crash—glass on tile—rings out from inside.

Then a muffled scream.

Your heart skips. You toss the cigarette, crush it underfoot, and shove open the back door in one quick motion.

The scent hits you first—something floral and heady, familiar—mixed with the sharp, unmistakable note of spilled perfume.

Colette stands behind the counter, eyes wide, hand over her chest like she’s trying to calm a racing heart. A shattered bottle lies on the floor near the display tray.

She doesn’t look hurt. Just stunned.

“I—” she starts, breathless. “I guess I can work Sunday after all.”

You follow her gaze.

And then you see him.

Nanami stands just inside the boutique, tall frame slightly hunched like he’s aware of the space he’s taking up, one hand tucked into his coat pocket, the other holding a bouquet.

Roses, white this time, with sprigs of lilac tucked between the blooms.

Your breath catches, somewhere between disbelief and something you can’t name.

He looks the same. A little older, maybe. A little more tired around the eyes. But still—him.

Colette clears her throat and turns to busy herself in the back, clearly trying not to stare.

Nanami steps forward, expression unreadable.

“Sorry about the bottle,” he says softly, voice like gravel warmed in the sun. “I didn’t mean to startle her.”

You’re still staring.

“Can I help you?” Colette asks, her tone polite but far too curious, already sauntering over like she’s hosting a royal guest.

You step in quickly, intercepting her with a smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I got it,” you say lightly. “Go to the back and sort the new shipment.”

Colette blinks, just once, and then a slow grin creeps across her lips. She leans in close enough to whisper, “You know him!”

You lift an eyebrow. “You’ll still get your autograph, don’t worry.”

She exhales a dreamy little sigh, and disappears into the back room without further protest—though you know she’s going to eavesdrop shamelessly through the door.

The moment it clicks shut behind her, the boutique feels quieter. 

Nanami still hasn’t moved. His fingers are tight around the bouquet, knuckles paling just a little.

“I didn’t mean to drop in unannounced,” he says, eyes flicking over your face, as if checking to see whether he’s crossed a line.

You step closer, slow. “No appointment?” you tease. “You must be important.”

His smile is faint, but real. “I was hoping you’d still be here.”

You glance down at the flowers, then back at him. “It’s been a year, Kento.”

“I know.” A pause. “But I never stopped thinking about you.”

“Are you here to buy perfume?” you ask, folding your arms gently across your chest. It’s meant to sound teasing, detached—but your voice betrays you just a little.

“No,” he says simply.

Then, after a beat, “But if that’s what it takes for you to talk to me, I’ll get something.”

Your mouth twitches—almost a smile. The same steady, self-deprecating calm he’d had back then, folded neatly between his words.

“You don’t need to bribe me, Nanami.”

“I wasn’t sure,” he says, eyes earnest. “I didn’t know if I’d be welcome.”

You ignore him, ensuring he doesn’t feel too welcome. 

“We don’t really sell cologne,” you say, stepping around the counter, your fingertips grazing the edge as you move. “But we have some unisex fragrances in our signature collection. Toward the back.”

Nanami follows you, quiet as ever, the low sound of his footsteps syncing with the soft hum of the boutique. You stop at the display case—hand-cut glass, brass detailing still warm from the morning sun—and lift the lid.

He leans slightly forward, scanning the row of crystal bottles, each labeled with delicate script.

His hand hesitates over one, then closes around it gently.

You glance at the name etched in gold: Final Lap.

Your heart gives a small, almost imperceptible lurch.

He turns the bottle in his hand, brows slightly furrowed. “This one.”

It’s not a question.

You swallow. “That’s… our bestseller.”

He uncaps it, bringing it to his wrist, and breathes it in—slow and quiet, eyes closing just for a second.

“I didn’t know you kept it,” he says.

You try to laugh, but it comes out soft. “I renamed it. It didn’t feel finished until after you left.”

He meets your gaze. “You made it after that night.”

You nod. “You picked the last note, remember?”

A flicker of warmth passes through his expression, something just shy of wonder.

“It smells like you,” you add, gently. 

His smile is slow—small, but certain.

“Then I’ll take it,” he says.

“Then I’ll take it,” he says, setting the bottle down with a kind of finality that makes your heart stir.

You begin to ring him up, fingers moving automatically over the till, though your thoughts are elsewhere—on him, on the weight of a year spent wondering, on the ache that never quite settled.

“Why’re you here, Kento,” you ask quietly, not looking up.

He doesn’t hesitate. “You,” he says.

Your hands still.

“I tried to respect your wishes and leave,” he continues, voice low and even. “I thought maybe the space would help. That time would dull it. That you’d forget me, and I’d forget you.”

You glance up, meeting his eyes.

“But I didn’t,” he says. “Not for a second. There’s just something about you. About that week. About how I felt when I was near you, like maybe the rest of it didn’t matter.”

You swallow, the click of the register drawer the only sound between you.

“Do you really think this could work?” you ask, softly.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But I know I want to try.”

You hand him the bottle, fingers brushing his. He holds your gaze like he’s anchoring himself to it.

“My contract expires after next season,” he says, voice quieter now, more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard it. “I’m not planning on renewing it… and I know I’ll be lonely once this is all over.”

His eyes flick away, like he can’t bear to look at you when he says the next part.

“So, please. Just give this one chance.”

You don’t answer right away. The silence stretches. The boutique feels still, suspended between past and present, between memory and something that might still be possible.

He exhales. “This is embarrassing,” he says, shaking his head faintly. “I’m sorry. You must have found someone by now. I apologize—”

“Stop,” you interrupt, your voice catching. “There’s no one else.”

He looks at you.

“There never has been,” you say, more softly now. “It’s only been you.”

The words hang in the air, bare and unguarded, like they’ve been waiting a year to be spoken.

His shoulders drop with quiet relief, the kind that feels almost like surrender.

You step around the counter slowly, like you’re not entirely sure if the moment will hold—but it does. He doesn’t move as you reach for his hand, threading your fingers through his like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You cave all at once—like something inside you finally gives way.

Your arms wrap around his neck, the movement sudden, a little desperate. The bouquet tumbles from his hands to the floor, forgotten, petals scattering across the tile as he pulls you in by the waist, his grip firm, grounding.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, your face buried against the curve of his neck. “I was so rude to you last year. You must have felt so… used.”

“No, sweetheart,” he says, low and soft against your ear. “It’s okay.”

“It’s really not,” you breathe, pulling back just enough to look at him, your hands sliding down to rest against his chest. “I was just scared. I didn’t know you that well, and I push people away because I’m scared they’ll treat me like my father did.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his arms tighten—just a fraction.

“I spent every day over the past year regretting not saying yes to you,” you whisper. “Every single day, Kento.”

He studies you for a moment—eyes steady, jaw tight with the ache of something he’s been carrying just as long.

Then, gently, like he’s afraid you might disappear again, he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Then let’s stop wasting time,” he says. “Let me try. Just let me love you the way I’ve wanted to from the beginning.”

You take a small step back, not in retreat, not in fear, but in the kind of pause that comes when something is too big, too important, to meet without breath.

Nanami doesn’t move forward. He lets you have the space. His gaze stays steady on yours, open and unflinching.

“It’ll be hard, I know,” he says. “But I don’t want to regret this—the way I regretted not being there for Yu.”

The mention of his name lands with a quiet weight. You’ve heard it before, once, whispered over dinner when he thought you weren’t really asking. Now it sits between you, a truth he no longer hides.

“I have no intentions of hurting you,” he says, voice firmer now. “Not ever.”

You blink, the lump in your throat pressing up against your silence.

“I know I can’t promise we won’t fight. Or that it won’t be messy, or lonely sometimes,” he adds. “But I can promise I’ll show up. I’ll call. I’ll write. I’ll make the effort, even when it’s hard. You deserve that.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, overwhelmed—not by doubt, but by how simple he makes it sound. Like the love you’ve always been afraid to ask for isn’t impossible after all.

“I don’t want to be scared anymore,” you say quietly.

“Then don’t be,” he answers, stepping forward now, slow, deliberate. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

And when you let him gather you into his arms again, it feels different this time.

“Okay,” you say, the word soft but certain.

His brows lift, just slightly. “Okay?”

You nod, a faint smile pulling at the corner of your mouth. “Okay, we can give this a shot.”

For a second, he just looks at you—as if he’s making sure he heard you right, that he hasn’t imagined it. Then something unspools in his shoulders, something long-held and heavy, and his hand finds yours again like it always belonged there.

He leans in and kisses you—slowly, respectfully, like he’s savoring the moment as much as he’s asking permission all over again.

You kiss him back with no hesitation.

AUGUST 12, 1956

“NANAMI SPOTTED WITH LIPSTICK SMEARS AND A SMILE — WHO’S THE MYSTERY WOMAN?”Crowd-favorite keeps quiet after being photographed post-GP in Germany. Fans speculate romance.

OCTOBER 21, 1956

“NANAMI TAKES THE TITLE — REDEEMS LAST YEAR’S LOSS IN STUNNING FINAL LAP.” Victory at the Italian Grand Prix secured his fourth world championship title.

MARCH 5, 1957

“KENTO NANAMI BREAKS SILENCE ON BEST FRIEND’S DEATH — ‘THIS CAREER WAS NEVER JUST MINE.’” In a rare interview, the four-time champion reveals the truth behind his racing origins.

JULY 14, 1957

“THE MYSTERY WOMAN RETURNS — NANAMI’S COMPANION SPOTTED AT BRITISH GP.” Identity remains unknown, but sources confirm she traveled with the team to Silverstone.

OCTOBER 6, 1957

“‘IT’S TIME.’ — KENTO NANAMI ANNOUNCES RETIREMENT FROM FORMULA ONE.” Four-time world champion says goodbye to racing, announces plans to move to southern France.

MAY 18, 1958

“FORMER MASERATI DRIVER KENTO NANAMI MARRIED IN MONACO.” Weds longtime partner in private ceremony. Sources confirm he will join her perfumery business in Grasse.

taglist: @bluukive @callme-naomi @seellove @southrasiansandas @roresgf @bxnfire @seokjinfairy @araveticazx @mylilsodapop @nanasrambelingsons @dilfkentolover @papoiyu @hannibuttered @cherryredkissez @tqrxi @angelkiyo @caffine-exe @meikstv @crustyaintdusty @thegriffinbird @blueemochii @xombied @salmonroebonitoflakes @casssiesthings @homeslices

[art-lokita]

Troy Saga trio!

Man what a bunch of chill dudes! I love how they all get to return home safe and sound and have their homoerotic friendship strengthened!

Design rambles below lol

Once again clothing is a mixture of Mycenaean fashion and the more common Hellenistic fashion Ancient Greece is usually depicted in.

- For their chiton sleeves, I kinda wanted to make it a sliding scale with Ody in the middle. Since in the musical polites n eurylochus kinda act as two opposite ends of a spectrum? Being kind, merciful and open arms vs being cautious, ruthless, and prioritizing whatever it takes to make sure you and/or the people you care about survive (kinda 'fuck you, I got my own’ type vibes.) All that to say it’s why the men have different chiton sleeves. Eurylochus is more reserved so he’s the most ‘covered up’, polites is very friendly and open so he’s more ‘exposed’ and Ody is in the middle with just a sleeveless look.

-eury and Ody have matching belts because they’re both royalty/nobility (in my headcannon Eury came from a humble background but since he’s, you know, ody’s brother in law, he’s nobility now and he’s second in command of the crew). The triangle is supposed to be a symbol of Ithaca’s mountains and the tip of Athena’s spear.

- I headcannon that although ody’s men don’t all have cohesive uniforms, they all wear at least some sorta of green cloth with red/orange or light yellow accents, since I’m making it that Ithaca’s main color is olive green bc…ya know, the olive trees lol.

- polites has a lot of scars because I really enjoyed this interpretation/characterization I’ve seen some other fellow artists do where polites was a sweet man before the war, became a BEAST of a solider during the war, but near the end of the war and afterwards, became so haunted by his actions that he adopted his ‘open arms’ life philosophy and tried being his old self as a way to cope/somehow atone for his actions.

- Like I said in my wip post of these designs, I hit polities with the chubby beem bc I want him to come across as soft, warm and inviting, like you KNOW that man gives the best bear hugs. Because of that I actually kinda partially based my design on a cousin of mine lol. He’s a big, chill, kind hearted guy that kinda has a similar life philosophy to polites lol.

-Ody looks and carries himself more like a trickster in my design because well…it’s king Odysseus. He’s the grandson of Hermes’ and Athena’s chosen for a reason lol.

[someone-inthebackground]

sam is actually the most "do NOT perceive me!!!"

[angophorasims]

PLACE ANYWHERE TATTOO STAMPS [FAIRY SET]

hello! this is the winner of the latest poll! I kind of went wild with all the plants, vines in this pack haha, but there is so many other nature and fairy themed stamps too! i hope you love it!! <3 have a great weekend guys and enjoy the new EP if you got it! <3 [i don't even have it yet lol]

Here is the info you need to know:

-42 stamps in total.

-They do not work with skin masks, only with skin overlays as skin masks go on top of the tattoo layers.

-They are stamps, so you can place them anywhere on the body, in any size, and any rotation, making your custom tattoos more personal and unique.

-You can combine them with custom tattoos from other creators. They honestly would work great to create fillers, or to add more personal details.

-You CAN change the color.

They can be used as erasers, creating really cool blank space tattoos on blacked out parts.

They do not override any of the current stamps, they are simply added to the stack of current stamps.

Instructions: Download the package file(s) and just drop it into your Mods folder.

[DOWNLOAD]


❤️I plan to make many more sets, in many more styles with different patterns, symbols, and themes!❤️

And PLEASE, TAG ME ON TUMBLR IF YOU USE THESE! I REALLY WANT TO SEE WHAT YOU MAKE!😊😊😊 [angophorasims.tumblr.com]

credits for tutorials: DISL & Sims 4 Studio forums

[n1k0laa5]

you ever seen a god ask for fucking permission?

no really. have you?

have you ever cracked open a holy book or a creation myth or a single ounce of divine energy and seen that shit go:

“um hey guys… so uh… if it’s okay with everyone, i’m gonna try saying let there be light? and if that doesn’t work maybe i’ll just, idk, meditate and hope a candle lights itself eventually?”

NO.

YOU HAVE NOT.

because gods DECLARE. they don’t negotiate. they don’t seek approval. they don’t ask mortals in the comments section of some shifting blog whether clapping three times is “valid.” THEY CLAP.

AND THE UNIVERSE MOVES.

so let’s fucking scream it:

YOU DECIDE THE RULES.

YOU.

not me. not your favorite tumblr writer. not someone on reddit saying your method “breaks the physics of 4D.” or telling you not to use specific terminology like “being delulu” or whatever, not even “logic” or “science” unless you decide those are your limits. YOU are the rulebook. YOU are the glitch in the code. YOU are the motherfucking override command.

you wanna jump three times, slap your ass and teleport into your DR? do it.

you wanna chew gum while affirming and then spit the gum out like it’s symbolic of leaving the 3D behind? that’s sexy. do it.

you wanna blink twice and go “i’m in the void”? then. you. are.

because guess what the only real rule is?

you persist in the belief that whatever the fuck you declare is TRUE.

that’s it. no more complicated than that. no ten steps. no crystal requirements. no 3am rituals unless you want to romanticize your insanity (which, go off, i do the same). all you have to do is decide “this works because i said so” and then LIVE. LIKE. IT.

and don’t you fucking dare say “but how do i know if it’s working”

baby.

baby.

if you ask that, you already decided it’s not.

you’re checking the oven every two minutes and wondering why the cake won’t rise. you’re ripping the seed out of the soil to ask the roots if it’s growing yet. you are the one stepping on your own hose and crying because there’s no water. STOP.

you wanna know what the real method is?

it’s persisting.

the purest, most sacred, unshakeable persistence in the truth which is your assumptions. the kind that isn’t even trying to prove itself anymore. the kind where you stare into a mirror and say, “it doesn’t fucking matter what I see. it doesn’t matter what my bank account says. it doesn’t matter if I feel like a mess. I have what I want and that’s that. I am that bitch and the world bends to ME.”

like right now. RIGHT FUCKING NOW.

you can literally stand up, walk to a mirror, stare at your own eyeballs and go:

“i don’t care if i affirmed once or fifty times.

i don’t care if i cried this morning.

i don’t care if the 3D looks the same.

i HAVE what I want. i HAVE shifted. this IS mine. there is NO option where this isn’t mine. it’s done. the end.”

and if you live from that place?

the 3D will fold like paper.

but nah. some of you out here be like:

“if i do this method wrong, will it cancel everything?”

“what if i skipped a step?”

“what if i wasn’t in the perfect mood?”

“can i manifest if i’m tired or do i have to vibrate like a goddamn fairy on speed?”

SHUT. UP.

YOU SOUND LIKE YOU THINK THE UNIVERSE IS A BUREAUCRATIC OFFICE.

like there’s a little man in the sky going “hmm sorry your affirmation didn’t rhyme so it’s been denied”

LIKE NO. STOP.

if someone told you that watching your favorite comfort show six times in a row while thinking “life is good” wouldn’t work, tell them to go eat glass.

if someone told you that you must stay positive 24/7 or it ruins everything? slap them with a copy of your new reality and move on.

if someone told you that you need to visualize for 10 minutes minimum or it doesn’t “count”—

baby. tell them to go find god. you are not one affirmation away from success. you are success DECIDING it is now.

methods?

they’re ALL real. they ALL work. if you believe in them.

• affirming once and never again? works.

• affirming nonstop til your brain turns to fucking pudding? also works.

• scripting every detail of your DR down to how your shoelaces tie? works.

• saying “i’m in my DR now” and then pretending it’s real until it is? that’s literally it.

• meditation.

• daydreaming.

• spinning.

• shifting while brushing your teeth.

• shifting while holding your breath.

• saying “i shift on Wednesdays and ONLY Wednesdays” and then it works because YOU DECIDED THAT RULE.

• saying “fuck it i shift now” and BAM, done.

• blinking.

• drinking water with intention.

• watching edits.

• falling asleep while delusional.

• falling asleep while pissed off.

• crying and STILL shifting.

• doing absolutely fucking nothing but choosing “i already have it.”

every single “method” is valid because YOU make it valid. you’re the cheat code. the override button. the backdoor into existence.

you’re out here asking “can i still shift if i have doubts sometimes?”

YES.

“can i shift if i’m not perfect?”

YES.

“can i shift if i forgot to say thank you to the universe?”

YESSSSSSS.

stop treating the universe like it’s gonna punish you for not doing your homework.

this isn’t school. this is reality. YOURS. not someone else’s. not a collective. not a simulation with rules. YOU dictate the terms. you want reality to shift when you hum your favorite song and click your heels together? it will. if you say so.

and yes, it’s that easy.

no, it’s not “too good to be true.”

no, it’s not “delusional.”

and even if it IS?

who gives a fuck. delusion gets results. logic gets excuses.

delusion gets your desires. logic gets you blog comments saying “be patient, the 3D is testing you”

BURN THAT BULLSHIT.

the 3D isn’t testing you.

you’re testing you.

you’re the one checking and rechecking and doubting and looping.

and every time you do that, you are reinforcing the idea that reality is something that happens to you instead of something that you command.

so here’s what you do.

you stop asking questions like “will this work?”

and you start saying “THIS WORKS. PERIOD.”

you stop looking for signs and start being the fucking sign.

you stop waiting and start walking like it’s already done, because guess what?

IT. IS.

you don’t need the mirror to reflect your new hair to know it grew. you don’t need the 3D to clap for you before you get on stage. you don’t need a fucking telegram from the void to tell you that you shifted.

you say it.

you mean it.

you LIVE it.

and reality?

it shuts the fuck up and follows.

[crinosg]

Yet more proof that none of these morons have so much as touched a Superman book and just continue with this bullshit for attention and culture war bullshit.

Mad that Superman is an immigrant that's literally his origin story, he was sent here, as a baby, from a dying planet, he's a goddamn REFUGEE.

Like there is literally a story about this sort of thing where in the 30th century a bunch of super powered fascists try and whitewash Superman's origin (claiming he was "born from the earth itself") so they can use him as a symbol as they have fucking future ICE round up all the aliens, and they turned the sun red so Superman couldn't interfere, but when the Legion fixes the Sun Superman stands up to Future ICE and says "I'm for everyone."

Like if you stand there and try and erase Superman's immigrant background, then you are literally on the side of the bad guys.

They're angry over one of the most basic components of his character?

I was kind of joking about that post about how you couldn't make Blazing Saddles nowadays, but I guess it's just true. You can't even make Superman these days without them complaining he's woke.

[peasack]

Could I request the Thunderbolts reacting to teen!reader being a witch? 🤎

AAAA SO CUTEEEE. I'm imagining you're kinds like Agatha btw cause I'm not that creative LOLS

Thunderbolts x Gn!Teen!Reader

✦ Thunderbolts With a Witch Reader Headcanons ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

✦ John Walker

"Wait, You're a what now?"

He’s already seen aliens, gods, and mind control, but this takes him a second. “Like... Salem witch trials witch?”

Absolutely tries to brush it off like it’s not terrifying. But just know he's freaked out.

“Yeah sure, no big deal, just hanging out with a teenage eldritch demon lady, why not.”

Lowkey wary of you when you're quiet too long. Like, are you reading his mind? Cursing his bloodline? Turning his socks into snakes??

But after you save him in a mission with some ancient, awful hex that melts a tank like butter, he just mumbles, “Okay. Remind me not to piss you off.”

✦ Yelena Belova

LOVES IT. Thinks it's iconic.

“You’re a witch witch? Like, scary witch? Ancient spooky dark goddess witch?” She's already obsessed.

Tries to get you to teach her a curse for fun. "Not for anything bad, just, you know.... something that makes Alexei sneeze for a week."

Never afraid of you. She trusts you not to hurt the people you care about, and if you do? She’ll stop you, but she still respects you.

One time you whisper a spell and an enemy implodes. Yelena's reaction: “Hot. Also horrifying. But mostly hot.”

✦ Ava Starr

Immediately on edge. Your power has weight to it, and she can feel it like a pressure in her chest.

“What are you, really?” she asks you once. Not accusatory, just... trying to understand.

But she also sees how you contain it. The discipline it takes. The cold, careful grace. She respects it.

One night you protect the entire team by raising a magical barrier with symbols she can’t even comprehend. After that, she trusts you like she’s never trusted anyone before.

She’s the only one who notices how tired you look after the spells. She doesn’t say anything, but she always stays close.

✦ Alexei Shostakov

He has no idea what to do with that information.

“So... you’re like Baba Yaga?”

“Sure,” you say, and he nods like he understands. He doesn’t.

Brags about it constantly. “This is my scary witch daughter. She can kill you with words. Isn’t she wonderful?”

Lowkey a little afraid of you, especially when you laugh in that low, wicked way after a mission goes too well.

One time you turn a guy into a frog because he insulted Ava. Alexei hasn’t stopped bringing it up. He’s weirdly proud.

✦ Bucky Barnes

His first reaction is silent staring. Then:

“So.. You’re like... Wanda?”

“Who.?”

“...Nevermind.”

You remind him a little too much of Wanda. Not in power, but in pain. He notices the way you isolate yourself. He checks on you even when you say you're fine.

He’s been controlled before. Manipulated. So magic makes him uncomfortable, but you don’t. You always ask before casting, never push, and that means everything to him.

When you lose control once and the sky rips open in the middle of a panic attack, he doesn’t flinch. Just kneels next to you and whispers, “You’re not a monster. You’re just scared.”

✦ Bob Reynolds

He doesn’t get magic, but still makes you tea and sits silently nearby whenever your hands are shaking post-spell.

Bob nearly screams the first time he walks into the kitchen and sees a floating spoon stirring your tea.

When you mutter in Latin under your breath, he pretends not to be concerned but immediately googles if you're summoning something.

You once hexed the vending machine when it ate your dollar, and now Bob always brings snacks in advance just to avoid the same fate.

At first he's super shy about asking you for help with your parents, but once you're both comfortable he asks you for help at least once a day

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Cuties. I just know Bucky would get so nostalgic.

[favorkyomi]

— Katsuki.. The Tutoring?

“alright, idiot, you gonna stare at that equation all night or are you gonna actually solve it?”

katsuki’s voice, a familiar gravelly rumble, sliced through the comfortable silence of his room. the late afternoon sun, usually so obnoxiously bright, was softened by the heavy curtains, casting a warm, dusty glow over his neat desk. a textbook lay open between us, covered in angry red annotations in his precise, spiky handwriting. equations swam before my eyes, a jumbled mess of numbers and symbols that refused to make sense.

“i am trying, katsuki,” i mumbled, tracing a finger over a particularly daunting polynomial. “it’s just… my brain feels like mush today. you know that thing where you look at a word for too long and it stops making sense? that’s me, but with numbers.”

he huffed, a sound that usually preceded a sharp, biting remark. i braced myself.

“tch. then stop thinking so damn hard and just do it.”

“it’s not that easy!” i sighed, leaning back in my chair, stretching my arms above my head. “it’s been one of those days, you know? first, kirishims accidentally spilled his whole thermos of lukewarm tea on aizawa-sensei right before homeroom, then kaminari tried to demonstrate some new trick he learned with his quirk during lunch and nearly short-circuited the entire cafeteria, and then…”

i paused, realizing i was just rambling. katsuki was leaning back in his own chair, arms crossed over his chest, his blonde hair a messy halo around his scowling face. his crimson eyes, usually narrowed in perpetual irritation, were fixed on me. he wasn’t interrupting. he wasn’t telling me to shut up and focus. he was just… listening.

it was strange, seeing katsuki like this. he was katsukk bakugo, the guy who tolerated exactly no one, whose patience was thinner than tissue paper, and whose default setting was ‘explosive rage.’ yet, somehow, over the past few months, i’d found myself navigating past his carefully constructed walls. he still barked, still swore, still looked perpetually annoyed, but there was a subtle shift. a slight easing of his shoulders, a less aggressive huff, a gaze that lingered a fraction of a second longer. and, inexplicably, he let me ramble.

“and then,” i continued, a small smile teasing my lips, “mina tried to convince sero that hot sauce on ice cream was a delicacy. he nearly threw up.”

katsuki let out a low rumble that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. it was a rare, almost mythical sound, and it sent a flutter through my chest. he quickly cleared his throat, the sound gruff, and pushed himself forward.

“alright, alright, enough of your idiot friends’ antics. we’re here to make sure you don’t fail this damn test. now, focus.” he tapped the textbook with a sharp knuckle. “this next section is about quadratic equations. what’s the first step?”

i glanced at the page, my mind still replaying mina’s horrified expression. “uh… find the a, b, and c values?”

“good,” he grunted, a flicker of something almost akin to approval in his eyes. “now, where did you get stuck on the last problem?”

i pointed to a line of scribbled numbers. “here. i don’t know if i factored this right.”

he leaned closer, his scent—something clean and faintly like ozone—filling my senses. his arm brushed mine, and a jolt went through me. he didn’t pull away. he just stared at the page, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“you didn’t,” he stated, not unkindly. “you skipped a step. look, if you use the quadratic formula here, it’s simpler.”

he explained it, his voice low and surprisingly clear, breaking down complex steps into something manageable. he actually made it make sense. but as he spoke, my gaze drifted from the textbook to him. to the strong line of his jaw, the slight twitch of his lips when he concentrated, the surprisingly long, dark lashes that framed those intense red eyes.

and i found myself suddenly, intensely, yearning. not for understanding math, but for more of this. more of him, sitting beside me, letting me into his space, listening to my mundane ramblings, patiently (for him) guiding me. i yearned for the quiet domesticity of it all, the underlying warmth that contradicted his harsh exterior.

“seriously, though,” i blurted out, interrupting his explanation about discriminant values, “kaminari swore he could power a whole city block for five minutes if he really tried. yaomomo looked like she was about to have a stroke.”

he actually stopped mid-sentence. his eyes, already on me, narrowed slightly. for a second, i thought he’d finally snap. tell me to shut up, to go home, to find another tutor. but then, a slow, almost imperceptible smile ghosted across his lips. it was gone almost as soon as it appeared, but i saw it.

“did he try?” he asked, his voice rougher now, though less with irritation and more with… something else. curiosity? amusement?

“no, thankfully. jirou threatened to break his charger if he did. she said she couldn’t handle another blackout.”

he let out another low chuckle, this one more definite. he shook his head, a ghost of a smile still playing on his lips. he ran a hand through his spiky hair, messing it up even further.

“you know,” he said, not looking at the textbook anymore, but directly at me, his gaze surprisingly soft, “you’re completely hopeless at staying on task.”

“i know,” i admitted, grinning. “but you haven’t yelled at me once.”

his eyes, those intense red eyes, held mine. there was a depth in them i rarely saw, a silent question, a quiet invitation. he wasn't just listening to my words; he was listening to me.

“tch,” he finally scoffed, pushing the textbook a little closer to me, his usual gruffness returning, but softer now, like a well-worn blanket. “just get the damn problem done, moron. we’re not finished yet. you’re gonna need all the time you can get.”

and as i bent my head back over the numbers, a warmth spread through me, far more comforting than the afternoon sun. i knew he was right. i was hopeless at math. but somehow, with katsuki by my side, i found myself not minding the extra time at all. In fact, i was already thinking of what I’d tell him about tomorrow.

kyo’s korner! katsuki yearning is literally chef’s kiss ngl. anywaysss my next idea is gonna be a lil different but it’ll be good 😣

[dailydoseoffanfics]

*punches my fist through the dirt* GUESS WHO'S BACK FROM THE DEAD ?!??! AND I'M SHARING SELF-AWARE FORSAKEN AU CRUMBS !!!! (like only 1 crumb)

it's just reader's design for my self-aware forsaken au (or [PLAYER] doesn't really matter lol) HOWEVER QUICK DISCLAIMER THAT THIS ISN'T REALLY THE OFFICIAL DESIGN, IT'S JUST HOW I PERSONALLY SEE READER AS IN THIS AU. Reader is supposed to be us after all, so feel free to imagine how you interpret reader as :)

Images + lots, and i mean, LOTS of yapping + concept arts under the cut!

Reader's (or [PLAYER]'s) design!!11 woah!!!!

honestly the only reasons why i created this design for reader is because 1. i can't really imagine reader in a blank state (which is just the average grey skin with only the "y/n" sign slapped on their face) and even if i did it just would look.....out of place. fOR me at least.

2. i just like giving [PLAYER] some style.

General info:

Pretty much this is what you look like from the survivors'/killers' point of view. What i'm trying to say is that this reader and you are the same person, just in like. uh. different fonts. (ihopeyougetwhati'msaying) LIKE, you're still you in the real world and you're still human, but in game, since canonically in my au you're seen as some kind of outwardly force, your form is morphed into this.... humanoid-like person that barely anyone can see.

Since it's stated that the survivors and killers can see your silhouette somewhat, I like to imagine that the only way they can clearly see this form is yours is when they're having dreams about you.

Design Notes:

Originally, [PLAYER] would have a fringe hat, because I thought it looked cool and also to have [PLAYER] get mysterious™ points, but after drawing it out, I realized that "okay this is pretty time-consuming i ain't drawing allat 😭😭" so i just stuck to a veil hat instead. which honestly looks better imo.

1.5. I wanted to make [PLAYER]'s design not too simple to the point it looks bland (for me at least) but not too complicated to the point where there's like 109823912389 details put into it either. It's pretty much why [PLAYER]'s color palette just consists of red, white and shades of black.

2. Also, there were originally gonna be flowers on [PLAYER]'s hat. Specifically red alstroemeria, black iris and red geranium. Red alstroemeria cuz generally they symbolize friendship, love and strength (red in this case meaning passion), alstroemerias are typically used as friendship and romantic flowers and my intention for this au of mine is to be interpreted as romantic but can also be seen as platonic (but let's be real i think it's going toward the romance direction...) so i thought it would be neat to put that flower in

Black iris because generally they symbolize hope, but black in this case symbolizes power and the unknown.

And red geranium cuz generally they symbolize joy and happiness, red in this case symbolizing protection. Also associated with immortality and prosperity (Two Time gonna have a field day with this.....kinda.)

At some time, I thought about replacing these flowers with just a red rose and a sunflower, but I decided

3. Generally, all these 3 colors, black, red and white symbolize power in a way (black to make [PLAYER] look mysterious, red to symbolize...power, and white can be associated with good, so I chose that color.)

3.5. These colors would make like a really stereotypical villain that's all evil and stuff (think of like those villains that only has red eyes with their entire body just being a solid black color), so i chose these colors because at first glance, [PLAYER] DOES look intimidating, but when you get to know [PLAYER] they're actually just a really chill guy. (don't judge a book by its cover!!!)

4. I gave [PLAYER] a void-like look to emphasize their "outwordly" form. I just thought it would be neat.

5. I made their outfit resemble [PLAYER]'s personality in a sense. They're wearing a suit which symbolizes power and control, but I gave [PLAYER] poofy sleeves to highlight [PLAYER]'s goofiness and overall carefreeness. Also gave [PLAYER] these long flowy ribbons to like uhhh....highlight [PLAYER]'s charisma in a way.

Annnnd concept art time!

Annnnd the flat colors if you guys want!

[prickly-porcupine-memes]

Trump is, at best, a philosemite. He has a long history of antisemitic remarks.

1. Using “Shylock” as a slur (July 3–5, 2025)

Statement: In an Iowa speech, Trump referred to bankers as “Shylocks and bad people,” invoking a centuries-old antisemitic stereotype rooted in The Merchant of Venice.

Response: He later claimed he didn’t know “Shylock” had antisemitic connotations, saying he thought it simply meant a high-interest lender.

Reuters (July 5): Trump criticized for using antisemitic ‘Shylock’ to describe bankers

https://www.reuters.com/business/finance/trump-criticized-using-antisemitic-shylock-describe-bankers-2025-07-04/

Time (July 5): Trump defends, says ‘never heard that’ it’s offensive https://time.com/7300208/trump-antisemitic-term-criticism-response/

AP News: Trump unaware it was antisemitic

https://apnews.com/article/6c6517f6de0e4c80936c40055069c0db

Politico: ADL condemns use of “Shylock”

https://www.politico.com/news/2025/07/04/trump-antisemitic-trope-response-00440000

2. Accusing Jewish Democrats of disloyalty/mutual hatred (2019–2024)

August 20, 2019: “Any Jewish people that vote for a Democrat… shows either a total lack of knowledge or great disloyalty.”

March 18, 2024: Claimed Jewish Americans voting Democrat “hate their religion… hate everything about Israel.”

These remarks invoke the antisemitic trope of “dual loyalty.”

https://www.reuters.com/world/us/trump-draws-ire-saying-jews-who-vote-democrats-hate-their-religion-israel-2024-03-19/

3. Hosting antisemitic/extremist figures at Mar‑a‑Lago (Nov 22–24, 2022)

Event: Trump had dinner with Kanye West and known Holocaust denier Nick Fuentes. Though Trump claimed ignorance of Fuentes's views, critics decried his failure to condemn antisemitism.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donald_Trump_and_antisemitism

4. Denigrating Chuck Schumer’s Jewish identity (March 2025 and earlier)

Statements:

“Schumer is a Palestinian … He used to be Jewish. He’s not Jewish anymore.”

During 2024 debates, he said Schumer “has become like a Palestinian… a very bad Palestinian.”

These were criticized as antisemitic and racist.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donald_Trump_and_antisemitism

5. Assorting Jews with money-focused stereotypes (1990s–2023)

Examples (from Wikipedia & news sources):

1990s: Alleged comment: “The only kind of people I want counting my money are little short guys that wear yarmulkes.”

2016 tweet: Edited meme showing Hillary Clinton over money with a six-pointed star.

2022 Rosh Hashanah message: “liberal Jews” vote to “destroy America and Israel.”

These reinforce classic money-related Jewish stereotypes.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Racial_views_of_Donald_Trump

6. Amplifying antisemitic or extremist voices (2017–2022)

Details include:

Praised individuals with antisemitic views (Henry Ford, Paul Nehlen, Ted Nugent, etc.).

Shared or retweeted extremist content such as QAnon and white supremacists.

Critics say this normalized antisemitism.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Racial_views_of_Donald_Trump

7. Failure to repudiate antisemitism around Jan 6, 2021

Observation: Numerous antisemitic symbols and extremist groups were present at the Capitol Riot; critics argue Trump’s rhetoric helped inflame the atmosphere.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_antisemitism_in_the_United_States

@clayandsorcery makes a valid point.

@syabm only proves they don't know bupkis about antisemitism.

[alyssascraft07]

THE WHITE CLOWN THEORY: MCR Seattle and DRAAG

‼️SPOILERS‼️

So, for anyone who watched online or live (like myself hehe), you will have seen the suicide bomber at the end of the MCR concert last night, July 11th, 2025. This was after the band was DRAAGged off of the stage and Gerard was stabbed. The suit man (do not know his name) then came out in a white clown costume, danced to Blood, made us laugh, and then revealed a bomb strapped to his chest and exploded.

It has been said that this also killed the audience, as we were witnesses to the rebellion and the Dictator could not let us live after seeing what we did. I agree with this, considering that was the end of the show, and it makes sense, but there’s even more in a symbolic sense, which is where MY theory comes into play.

(Side note: I have not seen this theory anywhere yet, other than a Reddit comment I made myself, so this is an OG thought and post in case this is correct)

With everything going on in America at the moment along with the theming of the show and DRAAG, there are many parallels to fascism, censorship, and dictatorship. So, in true English major fashion, of course I had to notice the connection between the clown and Fahrenheit 451. Let me explain:

The white clown costume that the suited guy changed into obviously aligns with the White Clowns in Fahrenheit 451. For those unfamiliar with the book, the White Clowns are characters on TV used to entertain and distract citizens to keep them naïve and to prevent critical thinking. They’re violent, silly, and enthralling to audiences. They’re a method of control and distraction. And in the audience last night, the clown had the exact same effect on the audience. We were all giggling, forgetting our saviors were just forced off stage and harmed. Everyone was entertained until the bomb was revealed, and by that point it was too late.

The costuming is too meaningful to be unintentional. It was harrowing to see how easily we were manipulated, and I think that was the goal. The Dictator wanted us distracted until the end, as no witnesses to the rebellion could remain, and we were. It was beautiful symbolism and made my literary heart both happy and terrified.