#it's not a contest. just do what you can for who you can.

[jessilynallendilla]

dear god we're steadily heading into Fahrenheit 451

“Picture it. Nineteenth-century man with his horses, dogs, carts, slow motion. Then, in the twentieth century, speed up your camera. Books cut shorter. Condensations. Digests, Tabloids. Everything boils down to the gag, the snap ending.” “Snap ending.” Mildred nodded. “Classics cut to fit fifteen-minute radio shows, then cut again to fill a two-minute book column, winding up at last as a ten- or twelve-line dictionary resume. I exaggerate, of course. The dictionaries were for reference. But many were those whose sole knowledge of Hamlet (you know the title certainly, Montag; it is probably only a faint rumor of a title to you, Mrs. Montag), whose sole knowledge, as I say, of Hamlet was a one-page digest in a book that claimed: now at last you can read all the classics; keep up with your neighbors. Do you see? Out of the nursery into the college and back to the nursery; there’s your intellectual pattern for the past five centuries or more.” Mildred arose and began to move around the room, picking things up and putting them down. Beatty ignored her and continued: “Speed up the film, Montag, quick. Click, Pic, Look, Eye, Now, Flick, Here, There, Swift, Pace, Up, Down, In, Out, Why, How, Who, What, Where, Eh? Uh! Bang! Smack! Wallop, Bing, Bong, Boom! Digest-digests, digest-digest-digests. Politics? One column, two sentences, a headline! Then, in mid-air, all vanishes! Whirl man’s mind around about so fast under the pumping hands of publishers, exploiters, broadcasters that the centrifuge flings off all unnecessary, time-wasting thought!” Mildred smoothed the bedclothes. Montag felt his heart jump and jump again as she patted his pillow. Right now she was pulling at his shoulder to try to get him to move so she could take the pillow out and fix it nicely and put it back. And perhaps cry out and stare or simply reach down her hand and say, “What’s this?” and hold up the hidden book with touching innocence. “School is shortened, discipline relaxed, philosophies, histories, languages dropped, English and spelling gradually gradually neglected, finally almost completely ignored. Life is immediate, the job counts, pleasure lies all about after work. Why learn anything save pressing buttons, pulling switches, fitting nuts and bolts?”

remember

“You don't have to burn books, do you, if the world starts to fill up with nonreaders, nonlearners, non-knowers?” 

“The problem in our country isn't with books being banned, but with people no longer reading. You don't have to burn books to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them.” 

“Coloured people don't like Little Black Sambo. Burn it. White people don't feel good about Uncle Tom's Cabin. Burn it. Someone's written a book on tobacco and cancer of the lungs? The cigarette people are weeping? Burn the book.”  (remember a few years ago when classic books were being "sensitivity read" for editing to a "modern audience")

keep in mind

“If you don't want a man unhappy politically, don't give him two sides to a question to worry him; give him one. Better yet, give him none. Let him forget there is such a thing as war. If the government is inefficient, top-heavy, and tax-mad, better it be all those than that people worry over it. Peace, Montag. Give the people contests they win by remembering the words to more popular songs or the names of state capitals or how much corn Iowa grew last year. Cram them full of noncombustible data, chock them so damned full of 'facts' they feel stuffed, but absolutely 'brilliant' with information. Then they'll feel they're thinking, they'll get a sense of motion without moving. And they'll be happy, because facts of that sort don't change.” 

“A book is a loaded gun in the house next door...Who knows who might be the target of the well-read man?” 

what is HAPPENING

[hotvintagepoll]

Peter Falk (The Great Race, It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World)—JUST A SILLY MAN!! Sabotages four different cars (including his own, oopsie daisy) in the film The Great Race. Not film but TV, however, he is also known as the lovably silly little man Detective Columbo. Nobody knows what he's doing or where he's going at any time (even him).

Jack Lemmon (The Great Race, The Apartment, Some Like It Hot)—He's the everyman, he's clumsy, he's strange, in nearly every movie he finds himself in the oddest of circumstances because he's taken advantage of or because of... bad luck? You empathize with him, he's really a little guy. And yet... Why is he so hot? Why does he have this charm, this hidden fire, this weird kind of... elegance? You can't help but sense this magnetism he radiates. There is power in his charming eccentricity and clumsiness. He just really draws you in and you want to explore what it is that makes him so scrungly and so attractive at once.

This is round 3 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Peter Falk:

He's a man who looks unshaven even when he's shaven. His soul is unshaven. The perpetual squint, the way his eyes don't always go in the same direction due to one being glass, the disheveled hair... I can only hope to look as scrungly as him someday.

Just look at him. Seriously. Just look at him. He's the scrungliest little guy. He out-scrungles them all.

Jack Lemmon:

his chemistry with judy holliday in their two movies together is ZOINKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but i couldn't find any clips of that so watch him have mad chemistry with peter falk instead in my favorite campiest film of all time instead

His character in Glengary Glen Ross is literally the archetype Pathetic Guy. Even if you haven't seen this film I PROMISE you have seen iterations of Jack Lemmon's character from it. His character in Days of Wine and Roses will break your heart and show what an amazing range he has. [editor's note: I haven't seen either of these films so don't consider them recs from me. Also please keep your propaganda within the 1910-1970 range. tw for alcoholism in the clip below.]

[cads-the-cat]

Sleep Token is being turned into a brand rather than a band and being commercialised to a point where it will harm them more than help them

An opinion on there being too much ST merch

Befofe starting this, i want to clear up a few things

I am aware that Vessel and ii probably have very little responsibility/say in this and it's the management/rca who is doing this

Yes, i am a fan and i support them. However, it is unhealthy and not good to blindly support every decision and action of your favourite artist, person etc without questioning them and holding them accountable

I know that earning money with music in times of streaming is hard/impossible but that does not justify those moves of tryihg to get as much money as possible out of them

This also applies to other bands, but the extent to which this aapplies to ST is extreme compared to others

We are one week into this year and there has already been a new merch drop. After 6 days. You know when the last one was? Less than a month ago. Same merch shop (US). The items? Some of them questionable (flannels??). The leather jacket? Insane (not in a good way). It looks okay but you could make one yourself and make it look way cooler and get it for less money as one of my tumblr moots said.

I remember last year up until July/August it kind of was a running joke in the fandom about the emails with obtain and how we're too broke to obtain, but now? This is not a joke anymore. Ever since last year we have gotten emails ALMOST EVERY MONTH, sometimes even several times a month about new merch releases.

Yes, there are different stores worldwide, but we live in a time of international shipping. And even for one store it's lots of releases. Plus then there's all the licensed products shops like Hot Topic, Impericon, EMP and whatever their local equivalents are, who also constantly release more merch.

What's even worse: a lot of those things are either a shitty quality (if i remember right, one of the hoodies or tshirts from the EU tour 2024 had the print peeling off after one wash) and/or really bland. Where is the cool art, the thing that makes these items special? I got a tshirt from the German Rituals 2023 with this sick artwork on it that i cherish more than anything. But compared to that most tour merch of the more recent tours has been nothing special.

Most of them just have the logo on it and it reminds me of any ither fashion brand. There's only so many jumpers and t-hsirts and sweatshirts with the logo that a person needs and the constant release of new but actually the same stuff is creating this insane overconsumption which harms fans' bank accounts and the environment and is straight up boring. There's nothing about them that makes them special and unique and cool. It feels like at this point it is a contest of how many ST logos can they plaster on an item before it looks ridiculous (on the leather jacket i counted at least four, three of them massive).

Which brings me to the next point. People just slap on a ST logo because the band is so hyped and to make money off it or get more clicks, even if it is only remotely related to them. I understand that in today's world you need to use buzzwords to make people pay attention, but with ST it has reached the most ridiculous level. The air of anticipation some magazines or brands build around some upcoming stuff with words like Worship and whatever, which everyone connects to ST, just to reveal a mid product or result is just horrible and will eventually make it less effective which can harm the band in the long run if they can't build up excitement for new releases as much as they could because everyone is 'burnt out' because it's been overused.

Overall, this insane amount of merch and using ST to sell anything or get clicks is not okay. The fan base is so dedicated and loyal and we deserve better than to be - for the lack of a better word - exploited like this just because we like and support an artist. Prices for everything have been rising for years and it's hard for a lot of us financially. We spend so much money on concerts already and then the ton of merch and everything on top is just too much. ST as a brand is used to exploit fans which is not how you should treat your fans (again want to emphasise that this is mostly on management and label, not Vessel)

You might think 'But you don't have to go to concerts or buy their merch'. That's right, you don't. But concerts are kind of the thing when you're a fan of a band, and you want to support your fave band abd wear merch and show that you like them. However, the merch and everything is limited and posed in a way that creates FOMO and everyone is always drilled to Consume and Obtain (yes that's how capitalism works and that is not good in this situation because it harms us fans so much.) I can't deny I've given in to this as well twice during the EU shows and i am now left with an underwhelming sweatshirt and a hat that i never really needed and probably wouldn't have bought if i hadn't been in this mindset so much.

'Oh but i want to support Vessel and the band.' Yes, merch does help out artists, especially in times of streaming. But how much do you think they make? Merch is using little to no lyrics or song related things that the band could earn money off due to copyright. And i don't know who owns the right to the logo (i did some research and found someone in management with three trademarks on something ST related but it never specified if that applies to just the name or the logo or the music or whatever - it was not Vessel though). Who knows how much is going to management and the label and how much the band actually earns. Right now it feels like the management and label want to make as much money possible from them for their own gain. As an alternative to support them, start buying their albums and vinyls so they earn more money off their songs.

So, what do i want? Obviously i don't want fans to stop buying merch because it does help artists to some degree. However, I want less merch releases, one or maximum two a year per merch store (so AUS, US and UK/EU). We can have a few simple designs with the logo on it, but i also want some cool pieces with art or something else that makes them special. I know artists are expensive and stuff, but that's why you make less items but higher quality. Make them available in larger quantities so that more people can buy them and they will still get their money. Plus you always have extra tour merch, which is another extra release. Make the merch special again and make it mean something to people instead of just being another logo like a fashion brand.

If they continue like this fans will eventually be unable to afford stuff, people will turn away from merch because they realise it's all the same, and the effect of using ST as a brand/connection simply to sell stuff will harm their reputation (it already is). Whoever is responsible for this merch insanity needs to put a stop to it. Please!

This is just my opinion. Disagree if you want to. Some things, especially the effects of the situation, are portrayed slightly exaggerated, but this is how it makes me feel and I truly believe this is not a great situation we're in right now with the merch.

(Not taking any responsibility for typos)

[aishangotome]

[Azel] Loving Devoutly in God's Harem - Part 2

Thank you @shatcey for providing the video for this!

Part 1

--Azel's POV--

Why did I confine the foreign book merchant's daughter to the harem? Even if I were asked, I couldn't give a logical answer.

However, I do remember the trigger.

Emma: Living God, thank you for your continued patronage.

Emma: This time, in addition to the book you requested, I've also brought my favorite book.

Emma: I searched and searched until I finally found a book that I thought you might enjoy.

Azel: I didn't ask for it, did I?

Emma: It's my way of being meddlesome.

Azel: That's quite a bold way to be meddlesome.

Emma: I'm aware of that.

Azel: Why are you being meddlesome with me?

Emma: There's no deep reason...

Emma: I heard that you can't usually walk around outside casually, so I thought you might be pleased...

At that time, seeing that smile at that moment, I found myself speaking before I knew it.

"In return, shall I introduce you to some customers?" — is what I said.

-

Emma: W-what are you doing, you shameless god?!

The woman, thrown into the bath wearing only a thin cloth by the harem servants, flushes bright red with just a slight embrace.

Azel: That's strange. You said you wanted to love me, so I'm helping you out.

(This is really troublesome.)

(...It wouldn't be funny if I was assaulted by you.)

I'm trying to keep her in check by making the first move before she can, but I don't want to think about what will happen if she doesn't back down after this.

(Does she hate me so much that she would do this?)

(...The food, clothing, and shelter should be good. I even prepared an environment where she could continue her work as a book merchant.)

(Even so, is she worried about the rumors spreading and affecting her chances of finding a lover?)

(Well, I was the one who intentionally spread them.)

There's no way the woman could hear the complaints brewing inside my head --- The woman, who had been behaving herself up until this point, suddenly climbs onto my lap.

My heart nearly stopped.

Emma: If that's how you feel, Prince Azel, then I have an idea too.

(Stop.... please stop it)

My prayers were in vain as she embraced me, our wet bodies overlapping with each other.

The vivid sensation of soft curves against me made me dizzy.

Azel: You... you're going all out, aren't you?

Emma: Yes, I am. This is a desperate attack.

The woman's face pressed against my neck, her breath ghosting over my skin.

I wanted to praise myself for not pushing her away immediately.

(Damn it... I was already trying so hard not to touch you.)

I desperately held back my hands, which were about to move if I let my guard down.

Emma: ...You hate it, right? Say you hate it, quickly.

Azel: Shall we have an endurance contest? To see who says they hate it first.

Emma: ...I-It seems this isn't enough...

A woman pushed to the edge is a fearsome thing. Trembling with shame, she nibbled at my neck, her clumsy movements fanning the flames.

(It can't be helped... This is force majeure.)

(It's not my fault. You were the one who touched me first.)

The hand that was resting on her waist slid up her back, caressing her damp skin.

Emma: ah.....

Azel: See, if you don't surrender, things will get out of hand.

(Please surrender quickly.)

My fingertips, sliding along her side, gradually neared the swell of her breast.

I forced a gap between our bodies and slipped my hand in, about to touch the tip when—

Emma: Prince Azel...

Emma: Why won't you let me go?

Her voice, so faint it was almost inaudible, reached my ears.

Emma: ...If there was a woman who could act as a deterrent for other women in my place, would you let me go?

Azel: There is no such woman.

Emma: I'll find one.

Azel: No, I won't allow it.

(I never planned to bring any women into the harem in the first place.)

(...I only let you in because I thought I could tolerate you...)

Having a shield against women is convenient, but it's not something I can't live without.

If she—if Emma leaves the harem, I have no intention of ever taking another woman in.

Emma: If we stay together like this, I'll start to get the wrong idea.

Emma: You say you want to keep women away, yet you're always clinging to me, Prince Azel...

Azel: I'll add an extra charge for defamation.

Emma: It's true.

Emma: ...If we stay together like this, I'll probably fall in love with you.

(...)

(...........)

(So that's the real reason you want to leave the harem.)

Even though I welcomed her into the harem, I have no intention of loving Emma.

I don't love her now, either.

However, being liked by her isn't exactly unpleasant.

Azel: That's extremely inconvenient.

Emma: Ah... wait a—

I moved my fingers, which had originally been still, and lightly squeezed the tip of her breast.

As I teased her in the bath, the breaths that touched my skin grew ragged.

Azel: But... I could make a special exception for you.

Azel: I shall graciously accept your affections for me.

Emma: A...Nn...Prince Azel...

Emma: Prince Azel...what about you?

Whether intentional or not, her lower abdomen, clearly coated in a nectar different from the bathwater, pressed against me.

Azel: Of course, I don't like you, nor do I love you.

Emma: ...I'm running away tonight after all.

Azel: No, you're not.

Emma: Ah...!

To prevent her from escaping, I slid my hand down towards her legs, my fingers collecting a mixture of bathwater and nectar.

When I stimulated her with my fingers, she couldn't keep up her bravado any longer. Sweet moans echoed through the room, accompanied by the splashing sounds of the agitated bathwater.

Her nails dug into my shoulders, and although I felt the pain, it strangely didn't bother me.

Emma: Even though you don't love me...n...why are you doing this...? Ah...

Azel: Indeed I am.

Emma: Don't tell me you do this with everyone—

Azel: Don't say such horrifying things.

(It's only you, of course.)

As if to scold her, I slid my finger deeper, swirling it inside. Her body tightened around me, trembling.

I moved to embrace Emma, who had gone limp, but...our eyes met first.

Emma, languid but sitting up, cupped my cheek in her hand.

Our lips met briefly, then parted.

Emma: ...Only me?

Azel: ..........So what?

Emma: You don't love me, right?

Azel: Right, you're just a deterrent for other women.

As I said this, I wrapped my arm around the back of Emma's head and pulled her closer.

As if to fill the void, I sealed her lips with mine, greedily taking in her sweet breaths.

(I don't love you.)

(This is just a physical phenomenon, I don't like you.)

(...I don't like you, but...)

When I released her wet lips, Emma smiled.

For some reason, her expression was full of joy, and my heart made a strange sound again.

Emma: It's hard to believe you don't love me after that...

Azel: ...Shut up.

(I'll never admit it.)

(If I admit it... even if you seriously want to escape from here, I won't be able to let you go.)

Whether aware of my worries or not, our wet bodies pressed closer together with another kiss.

I felt like the temperature of the bathwater had suddenly risen.

-

—Since that incident in the bath, Emma's attitude clearly changed.

Azel: You've stopped saying you're going to run away.

Emma: Because I know a greedy god like you won't let me.

Emma: Besides, I'm satisfied now that I know how you feel, Prince Azel.

(...Not good.)

Her carefree smile overlapped with the smile she showed before I confined her to the harem—

Feeling somewhat irritated, I embraced her, hiding my expression.

Azel: Don't misunderstand, I don't love you.

Azel: ...I don't love you, but don't go anywhere.

.

.

.

FIN

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[ohwell-itsme]

#what if we got bored and dissected human sexuality together

what frustrated me for a good long while before I just... shelved it I guess, because it's not going to get me anywhere is that

once you get past the point of like, trans people are normal and it's transphobia when you exclude them from your attraction on that basis alone, and it's normal and doesn't change your sexuality to love them with whatever genitalia they have the cliff of what you can define as gender based attraction soon ends when you reach "non-binary people exist"

there is nothing, NOTHING, in my appearance that indicates my gender identity, it's simply not one of those that look like anything, but we form our first impressions of people before they speak (supposedly most people just need a one good look, idk to me people are shifty strangers until I can have somewhat of a grasp on their personality and worldview, but turns out that's abnormal and highly paranoid, and like, I'm aroace), somehow the ever popular smash or pass quizzes are easy enough to vote on with just one picture of the person, the eyes just don't careeeee about the nuance of gender,

and preferences for either the feminine or masculine aesthetic no matter how pronounced mean jackshit too, because those are super fluid and constantly reshaped by culture and there's probably more people with gender non-conforming presentations than there is with green eyes, it's literally nonsense, it's case by case in reality and labels sometimes just get in the way, because again it's distressing for non-binary people to parse through who might even be attracted to me? Am I going to be alright getting with a person of that orientation, or would it feel dysphoric, bringing awareness to this side of me, feeling perceived as leaning more to this side? Are my options only mspecs, only other enbies who'll understand? Like the profiling, narrowing the scope of who you might have chances with, based on labels becomes USELESS once you're non-binary, they're not telling you shit!

All of it is stupid, like, fuck your binary, it doesn't even exist, no such a thing in biology. Fuck all the who can say what discourse and the biggest victim contests and the community tearing fucks who don't want to see how similar all of our experiences with misogyny are and conflate our labels with the experiences they think we do have, fuck all the erasure and just all of this bullshit

I'm going to make a huge beam and turn everyone consciously non-binary [the binary is already fake] and then I'll die and when I see god I'm gonna spit in his face, fuck off with all that.

so strange to me that some people aren't bisexual

[ledesaid]

Moments before 8 am

►►►►►►►►

"I am not going to school."

"Excuse me, what?" That's enough for Guy to turn down the TV volume.

Billy is sitting in front of Guy, who doesn't look very happy, and the reason is not that big of a deal, or so Billy thinks.

"Kid, all children have to go to school, otherwise the whole point of skipping a day or two is lost."

Billy's expression triggers a staring contest that leads the older one to look for something in his closet.

The staring contest resumes when the Lantern crosses his arms while holding a somewhat folded backpack in one hand, obviously attesting to having accompanied Guy at some stage of his life.

It was already a Monday and it wouldn't be long before the school buses picked up the children from the street.

"Come on, Cap, it'll be just one day and you can wear the clothes I bought last time."

Guy had taken him out, amid shouts and explosions from the watchtower; after the mutiny to steal part of the buffet, hiding in his modest apartment in Baltimore was the best option.

He shared it with Billy, as it should be, and now Monday had come to bring up that issue.

Courtesy of his nosy neighbor. Who didn't take long to make Guy understand that she was five seconds away from a call to social services if he didn't send his kid to school, because she didn't want him to be a delinquent like Guy. Obviously, she didn't know that he had a college degree and was a former police officer.

And although Guy had every intention in the world of making those couple of points clear to the annoying woman, it would be an unequal fight and he didn't play dirty. How difficult it is to have codes these days.

"I'm not going."

True. Billy. Only recently did he learn of his super-steroidal superpowers. The kid was doing a good job, he was eleven years old and that left him at least six years of his life managing on his own.

"Help me, Cap, that woman is going to bring trouble to both of us."

He admired him, he had grown up quite well despite his unfortunate circumstances. He didn't want a father or anything that defined itself as such, but he was open to looking for companions and friends.

If he understood correctly, this kid had been out of school for four years and that put him at a huge disadvantage with the other kids his age.

The process would be tedious and long, but Guy had a couple of teacher friends who could help him without asking too many questions.

He hoped the kid wouldn't ask about the strange sandwich he was preparing for lunch.

The clock ticks on and no progress. Time for bribery.

"Did you know I was a cop, Billy?"

"Is that a threat, Guy?"

Bad move.

"It's more of a... I can ask a friend to take you in a police patrol."

Billy smiles.

"Not bad at all. Actually, that sounds awesome! My friend Freddy would be jealous if I sent him a photo."

It would be a one-time noisy event. Billy thinks that. He could do something like that and then disappear as if nothing had happened. But one thing was missing for it to be memorable.

"Only if you include a pair of police sunglasses."

"Deal."

"But only for today."

"I have no problem with that, I’ll use the morning to move, and you'll be free to walk among pubescent youths like the demigod you are."

Guy hoped the day would be good enough for Billy to go back to school the next day. But if not... he had more cop friends in other states to try again.

[somepsychopomp]

A Fair Contest

So a little bit ago I drafted an idea for an AU where, instead of the golden apple saying 'to the fairest' it says 'to the most amorous king'

And instead of the ladies fighting over the apple, it's Zeus & Poseidon. In order to determine who exactly is the superior lover (and king + who gets bragging rights), the two brothers select one (un)fortunate mortal that both of them shall take to bed...

and the judge they select for their little contest is none other than Odysseus.

(Takes place pre-Trojan War. In fact there's basically no Trojan War to begin with. Also Odysseus is betrothed but not yet married to Penelope)

Consider this chapter 1 of this fic. I really hope I can finish it because I stayed up to almost 4 am writing this, which is amazing because I've been dealing with a major cold and writers block for a while now

Word Count: approx. 4400

There's no smut yet but I do confess to giving Ody a bubble butt. Also in a world where Ruthlessness never happened/is yet to happen... Poseidon has a thing for strong thighs & is absolutely smitten with Odysseus

Also in my head, I'm imagining Neal's character designs but I think I've kept it vague enough for now that you can imagine whatever designs you like

+++

The wedding had been a most splendid sight, with revelry among both men and gods. The small mortal king, Peleus, was of course honored to host such a wide variety of the gods and have them witness his union with the divine Thetis. Zeus gave the couple his own blessing and permitted Dionysus to pour out his strongest wine for the occasion. 

Well into the night, the attendees danced to a tireless band and feasted upon the finest foods available. Gods mingled with mortals, some sneaking off with a young maiden or cupbearer for some more illicit fun. 

All was going well until the first beam of daylight shone upon a pedestal that no guest noticed before, where a golden apple awaited. 

Curious onlookers clustered around it, wondering where it could have come from. The mortals believed the apple to be made of real gold, thinking it was a lavish wedding gift. The gods were equally mystified, knowing that something so perfect and beautiful could only be given by one of their own. Hera pursed her lips at the sight of it. 

The king of the gods made his way to the center of the crowd, the other guests parting for him with their eyes averted in deference. He regarded the apple with mild curiosity, having a treasury greater than all of Greece’s wealth upon Olympus. A ribbon was tied neatly to the apple’s stem with a message embroidered upon it. 

“To the most amorous king.”

Zeus chuckled at the oddity of this little present and moved to take the apple. 

Only for another hand to grab it at the very same moment. 

The two gods stared at each other. 

“What do you think you’re doing, dear brother?” Zeus asked, the smile falling from his face. 

Poseidon rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Taking my prize.”

“You?” Zeus said, his voice dripping with outrage, “You dare defy your king like this?”

Poseidon’s voice turned sharp and cold. “I am lord of the seas! The gift doesn’t say ‘to the king of the skies’, now does it? No, you read it yourself.”

The mortal guests, including King Peleus, began to make their quick exit from the venue. Some of the lesser gods were also making their sneaky escape, fearing the worst was about to come. 

Hera approached her husband and wrapped her arms around his own, “Darling, it’s just an apple. If you want one, I’ve got a whole orchard full.”

It was true that Gaea, the very earth itself, gave Hera a grove of enchanted apple trees as her wedding gift. The trees were immune to all illnesses and sprouted fruit of pure gold all year round. In all likelihood, this very apple was stolen from the Queen’s orchard.

The god-king’s most favorite child appeared at his other side in an attempt to soothe his growing rage, “Father, listen to Queen Hera. This is a trick meant to sew discord, nothing more.”

Zeus ignored his daughter Athena as if she weren’t there. 

“Let it go, my love.” Hera said, “After all, why have one apple when you could have hundreds?”

Zeus gave her a sharp look, his golden eyes burning with a harsh, radiant glow. The queen of the gods was so taken aback that she shrunk away under the weight of his glare. Zeus said, “I am the god of judgement! No matter how trivial of a token it is, I will not let my brother take what does not rightfully belong to him!” 

Poseidon threw his head back and laughed, not one to be daunted, “Oh, is that so? And how will you prove that it doesn’t belong to me, hm?”

He tossed the golden apple into the air, catching it in his other hand. Zeus bared his teeth and snatched Poseidon’s wrist, unwilling to let elder brother even hold the thing. 

It was now apparent to all the remaining gods what this was really about. 

Neither king would secede when their pride and egos were in jeopardy. For either of them, letting the other take the apple now, after they’ve already started bickering, would mean admitting they were the more feeble lord, a less competent lover. And such a slight against their reputations would never stand. 

“Ahem,” a voice said. 

A lovely woman with flawless bare skin for all the world to admire, a translucent shawl draped around her arms and roses in her pale tresses, stepped forward. 

Zeus barely spared her a glance. “What is it, Aphrodite?”

She smiled, though not without a hint of mischief in her eyes, “I think I have the solution to this little conflict of ours, one that will minimize any substantial damage to our family… or the known world.”

Zeus inclined his head in interest. Poseidon gave the goddess his ear, as well. Zeus let go of his brother and the sea god set the apple down. 

Athena bit her lower lip, knowing that Aphrodite’s schemes were almost never more than just that: schemes. Games to amuse herself with. She had something else in mind. 

Aphrodite snapped her fingers. A large, circular mirror gilded in silver and gold appeared in the air behind her. The surface rippled the same way a pond did when met with rainfall. 

A beautiful young maiden with a long braid of black hair tended to her garden. The image rippled and was replaced with what was clearly a princess being dressed for the day by her servants. Again, the image shifted and showed a handsome young man in a short chiton as he shepherded his flock of sheep. 

Aphrodite said, “Now, I’m sure you two could spend eternity bickering back and forth, boasting of your skills and past conquests, but as the goddess of love myself… why not have more of a practical examination?”

The two brothers exchanged a look, coming to the same conclusion. 

“You want us to share a lover?” Poseidon asked. 

Zeus added, “And have them decide?”

Aphrodite winked and gave them a cheerful smile. “Well, what do you say? There’s no shortage of pretty boys or girls across the land. Come, take your pick!”

Zeus stroked his beard, a few sparks crackling across his fingertips. Poseidon crossed his arms in contemplation. 

“Father, Uncle!” Athena said, trying to catch their attention, “This is madness, can you not see?”

But neither god answered her. Athena was in disbelief. 

All this over a golden apple that neither needed or really wanted. This was all about their reputations as accomplished lovers, which they shouldn’t even have considering they were both married men. 

And Aphrodite, it was clear she was only doing this to make a story out of it, the way she and her son Eros loved to couple mortals together, only to break them apart. No doubt some terrible fate will befall the chosen victim, no matter who they named the superior lover. 

In Athena’s mind, she could only imagine the loser of this game casting some bitter curse upon the poor mortal as revenge. But that was the fun of it for some gods, to see the doomed fate of some poor soul after getting mixed up with the divine. 

Behind Zeus’ back, Hera threw her hands into the air before storming off, summoning her chariot pulled by winged horses to return her to Olympus. 

Athena threw a disappointed look at Aphrodite before leaving as well, deciding to go where her counsel would be appreciated. 

+++

By mid-morning, Odysseus’ back and brow were already covered in sweat as he endeavored to finish the roof over his wedding bed before an unfortunate rain could sully his hard work below. 

The house he was raised in was perfectly fine, but with all the servants and guards on top of his family, it was not the largest of castles. It was also an old thing in constant need of repairs. Odysseus always envisioned a proper palace atop Ithaca’s mountains, one where his own family could grow large and have plenty of space to themselves. 

So, before the eve of his wedding, he endeavored to complete the house of his dreams for his new wife to enjoy. He started with their olive tree, a living symbol of his devotion to his betrothed. Odysseus labored day and night to carve part of it into one of the four posts for his wedding bed, taking extreme caution to not cut away so much that the tree would die. 

The largest bough of the olive tree would overlook one of their windows, with a perfect view of the vast ocean beyond it. Odysseus already carved the other three bed posts and constructed the frame, but there was always more work to do. As the common larborers constructed the foundation and walls for the other rooms in the palace, Odysseus went to work constructing the roof for his bedroom. 

With a sizable living tree in such close proximity to his quarters, he trusted no one but himself to complete the project without damaging it. 

Taking up hammer and nails, hauling wood and stone, and fitting everything into place almost entirely on his own was unusual for a king. Odysseus knew this, but the labor brought him joy like no other. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, imagining opening the door for the very first time as a married man. He would carry Penelope to their wedding bed, built entirely by his hand, and spend the rest of his life with her. 

Focus, he told himself. 

For now, Penelope still dwelled in her natal homeland of Sparta. As soon as her new home was completed, she would set sail for Ithaca.  

Odysseus wiped the sweat from his brow as the sun beat its rays upon his back. Maybe it was foolish to fear the coming rainfall, but he could see the grayish clouds on the horizon.

By midday, he was hopeful he could have the roof finished by nightfall. As Odysseus dropped from one of the wooden rafters into his nearly-complete bedroom, his tunic must have caught on a nail or perhaps a large splinter. He heard the sharp tearing of fabric and grumbled at the gash across his front. One of the room’s alcoves had some of his clothes, since he didn’t have time yet to build the chests or wardrobe. 

Thinking better of a tunic, Odysseus merely replaced it with a rectangular length of cloth fastened at the waist. It was something his mother wove, a lovely shade of blue to match the sea, embroidered with red and white thread. 

From somewhere nearby, he heard the familiar clicking of an owl’s beak coming to greet him. He smiled and turned around, draping his tunic over his arm as his mentor approached him in the form of a brown and white speckled owl. She sank her talons into his arm and flapped her wings as if in outrage. 

He let her perch on the alcove’s lip as he fasted a leather pauldron to his left shoulder. She hopped back on and Odysseus could feel her talons clench and unclench even through the tough leather. 

“What troubles you, Athena?” Odysseus asked. 

He set out through the bedroom’s heavy oak doors, finding himself in a long hallway that was finished, but not yet furnished or cleaned. 

She spoke into his mind, Sometimes, I wish I could belong to any other family but my own. 

Odysseus chuckled. “I’m sorry to hear.”

While he loved his parents and sister dearly, he knew that Athena often butted heads with her siblings and uncle. 

Odysseus counted the windows that still needed shutters and curtains, along with the patches in the roof that had yet to be filled in. Farther along, the great hall where they would entertain guests was still only a skeleton. Only half of the supporting beams and columns were installed and the whole place reeked of sweating men. 

Athena paid the laborers no mind as the citizens of Ithaca bowed for their king as he walked by. 

You know I’m not one for gossip, but I fear something terrible is about to strike the land. 

“Is that so?” Odysseus asked, his smile dropping. 

Yes, a terrible tragedy yet to come in the form of my Uncle Poseidon and my father. 

A servant approached Odysseus with a serving platter. He took a cup of water and drank deeply, and snatched a small bowl of olives before going on his way. 

“They’re angry with us?” Odysseus asked, fearing what this might mean for his people.

No, Athena said, accepting an olive and biting into the tender flesh with her sharp beak, Not quite, but their egos are yet again showing themselves. If you find unusual weather patterns in the next few days, pay them no mind. 

“Ah, I see.”

In truth, he didn’t understand Athena at all. But she seemed in the mood to vent about her personal feelings and seeing as she didn’t do so often, Odysseus was careful to listen. 

Athena clacked her beak in irritation. Odysseus bit into his own olive as he felt a sharp nibble on his ear before she started combing through his damp hair. She must’ve found something in his hair, a bit of dust or a wood chip, because he could feel her tugging at him. 

How goes construction on the new palace?

“Every day, I can see the way it’s growing.”

Odysseus passed by a group of men sitting in a loose circle, taking swigs from a water skin as they fanned themselves. One caught sight of Odysseus and they all scrambled to their feet. 

Odysseus held out a hand to put them at ease, “Catch your breath if you must. A tired man is more prone to making mistakes, and I will not have any in my new house.”

The men all sighed in relief and went back to their break, waving goodbye as he continued onward. Athena cooed to show her approval in his decision. He thought her mood was improving, but not a moment later, she said, I just can’t believe them sometimes. 

“Oh?”

Odysseus thought Athena said her piece already. She clicked his beak right in his ear. 

You would think that the god of law and order would have some sense in his head. But no! Apparently my mother Metis still possesses it. If only Father would listen to her, if not me.

Odysseus said nothing, having never heard Athena speak like this before, especially about her father. He thought it best to remain silent; perhaps Athena could complain about Zeus without punishment, but he knew far better. 

Athena clicked her beak with a different sense of urgency and Odysseus gave her another olive. She held it in one foot while balancing on the other, dropping the pit when she was finished devouring the flesh. 

“You seem awfully worked up,” Odysseus said, “Anything I can do to lift your burdens?”

Athena shook her head. No, I’m afraid this is something that no one man can solve, as frustrating as it might sound. 

He crossed the central courtyard and approached the war room, one of the few nearly-complete parts of the palace, where his chief architects and advisors were waiting to update him on their progress. 

Though Odysseus was primarily trained in the art of war, he was also well-versed in song and poetry, history, oratory, and arithmetic, all courtesy of Athena. He wasn’t an expert in architecture yet, but he had his own hand in designing the layout of the palace. 

“Good day, my friends.” Odysseus said, parting the curtains that served as a makeshift door until the palace was fitted with proper ones. 

One of his elder advisors squinted at Athena upon his shoulder. “My liege?”

Before they could go over any potential issues in the construction or their budgetary concerns, Odysseus wandered over to the window and let Athena take off. She disappeared through the trees, though he knew he’d see her again soon.

+++

Despite the fact the sun was about to set and the two godly kings had been bickering all day long, Aphrodite hadn’t lost her patience yet. In fact, she was even reveling in her task at hand. 

They moved their business to her abode on Olympus, where her many mirrors were put to good use. Zeus and Poseidon scoured the lands for a suitable judge to measure their sexual prowess, each of them interested in different aspects of what made up a potential lover. 

Zeus was pleased with just about any pretty face that breathed, but Poseidon was a bit pickier with appearances. He didn’t want his maidens or young men to be too skinny, and he seemed to have a preference for those with strong legs. Aphrodite could certainly work within those bounds. 

At the same time, Poseidon was more open to sharing a lover with some previous sexual experience, thinking it’d make the whole process easier. Zeus wrinkled his nose at the idea and insisted he wanted someone “new”, not wanting to muck about after some vastly lesser mortal man had his way with their chosen judge. 

Aphrodite agreed that was a good point, so instead of letting the two kings squabble, she put her talents as a matchmaker to good use. After a brief consultation, she put together a list of minimum requirements that satisfied both gods. 

One, their shared lover had to be attractive, preferably with appealing legs. 

Two, they had to be virginal. 

Three, they all agreed that the mortal should come from high standards, so some form of royalty. They could be a princess or a prince, or even someone lesser than that, but anyone of a noble bloodline would be preferable to a random maiden. Of course, both kings had their fair share of peasant-girl chasing, but for such an important competition, Aphrodite understood their concerns well. 

And lastly, the judge should be someone intelligent. Someone who wouldn’t buckle under the pressure of their assigned task and would be able to use not just their body, but logic to determine the true and indisputable winner. 

No doubt each god had their plans to bribe the judge, but who wouldn’t?

If it was Aphrodite competing for the apple, she wouldn’t hesitate to pull out a few tricks of her own. An idiot might be easy to bribe, but that also meant they’d be easy for the competition to bribe as well. To each of the male gods, an intelligent lover would certainly be able to recognize a superior bribe.

“Sadly, your stipulations exclude Helen of Sparta,” Aphrodite said, waving away the image of Helen in her largest mirror, “She’s had children by now, though she’s still quite lovely.”

Poseidon made a noncommittal sound, as if he might reconsider, but Zeus urged Aphrodite to move onto the next candidate with a flick of his wrist. The two of them sat before her best mirror, looking almost comical in her rose-colored, dove-ingrained armchairs. 

They went through a few more potential candidates, including Penelope of Sparta and Ctimene of Ithaca. Neither god was very impressed by her choices, but just as Aphrodite was about to move onto the next candidate, Poseidon held out a hand. 

“Wait a moment,” he said, his eyes narrowing, “Who is that in the back?”

“Oh?” Aphrodite asked. She returned to the image of Ctimene. She was bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, her veil fluttering in her wake as her handmaidens walked with her. They seemed to be exiting some great ruin, but on closer inspection, the gods could see men at work. They were building a great palace, it seemed. 

Well, great by the standards of mortals. 

Behind Ctimene, a bare-chested young man held out a hand and seemed to be directing a group of others. Aphrodite’s mirror rippled and showed them the young man in greater detail, leaving young Ctimene out entirely. 

“Oh,” Zeus said. 

Aphrodite concealed her eager smile, more thrilled than ever at this sudden twist. She examined the young man’s features, including the sharp angles of his nose, his dense locks of dark brown hair, and his high cheekbones. He bore a striking resemblance to Ctimene. As the goddess of love, there were a few other details Aphrodite could parse out just by looking at him, but she would conceal her thoughts for now. 

She said, “Why, that would be none other than King Odysseus of Ithaca!” 

Though the young ruler was about the same height as his sister, he was no slight-of-frame weakling. His broad shoulders complimented his strong chest and arms, certainly the build of a warrior. His stomach was a flat plain and below his garments, well muscled thighs teased them almost playfully. 

A pale scar ran along the inside of one of his thighs, but it only added to his character. Though Poseidon maintained his interest, Zeus scoffed. 

“King, you say?” Zeus nudged his brother, “You know what that means.”

Poseidon was still appraising Odysseus’ thighs, “Plenty of whores in and out of his bed?”

“Actually!” Aphrodite said, clapping her hands, “You’ll be beyond pleased to know that young Odysseus here… is virginal.”

Now that had both gods’ attention. The King of the Gods seemed incredulous.

“How old is he?” Zeus asked. 

“Twenty years, my dearest king.”

“And he’s still a virgin?” Poseidon asked, his eyebrows flying up in surprise. “Why? Is he stupid?”

Aphrodite giggled behind her hand, “He’s determined to save himself for marriage, like a maiden! But it can’t be helped. I do believe he’s Athena’s pupil, after all. And I’m sure she holds him to what she perceives as a high standard.”

Aphrodite rolled her eyes, “Whatever the case may be, he’s remained celibate thus far. Perfectly ripe and ready to be plucked, if you would.”

The gods of the sea and sky shared a look. 

Zeus said, “Show us more.”

Aphrodite was more than happy to do exactly that. She waved her hand and the stationary image of Odysseus began to move. There was no sound to accompany the vision, but all three of them remained silent as they watched Odysseus work. 

He carried multiple rucksacks full of supplies up the spiral staircases of his house while other laborers stopped to eat their dinner. He seemed more than intent to get somewhere, not stopping until he came across a large bedroom with the roof still letting in sunlight in a few patches. Interestingly, while the bed was large and well made, it lacked a mattress or rug thrown over the rungs. Perhaps that would come later. 

Odysseus hopped out the window, seemingly ignorant to the fact there was a steep drop right below him, as he grabbed hold of a tree bough and climbed into the roof. It looked like he was intent on using every last bit of sunlight to his advantage as he finished laying out the clay shingles. 

The sweat across his body glistened like stardust as the sky above him glowed with the most beautiful shades of red and gold. He put his strong body to use by covering the few bare patches of his rooftop, stopping only to retrieve a shallow clay bowl from his pack, filling it with oil and floating a wick on top before igniting his lamp to give him a bit more light. 

Zeus snapped his fingers. In an instant, Hermes was fluttering at his side. 

“Yes, Father?”

Without taking his eyes off of Odysseus, Zeus said, “Contact Helios. Tell him to wait a while longer before dusk arrives.”

Hermes spared Odysseus a brief glance before nodding and flying off. Though the mortal didn’t seem to notice, the sun did indeed stop setting. 

Odysseus set down his hammer to dab his sweat-soaked face with a rag. He was tiring now, but intent on finishing his job if the determined look in his eyes was any indication. 

Poseidon held up one hand and curled a finger toward himself. 

The hammer that Odysseus just set down began sliding toward the edge of the roof. 

“Brother…” Zeus warned. 

Poseidon said, “Trust me.”

Odysseus snatched the hammer before it could fall, but found himself quite close to the edge now. 

Poseidon cupped his hands around his mouth and blew softly. A wind coming off Ithaca’s coast kicked up, carrying the salty scent of the ocean with it. As Odysseus stood with his hammer, he raised his other hand to shield his eyes from the sudden gust of wind that ruffled his hair and clothing. 

Aphrodite’s eyes widened, instantly recognizing the game Poseidon was playing. She added her own flare as well, using just the slightest twirl of her finger to undo the belt holding young Odysseus’ garments in place. 

The poor young king seemed baffled by his sudden misfortune, moving swiftly to capture his garment before the wind could steal it away. Aphrodite froze the image without being told to do so, but she was quite proud of her timing. 

Odysseus stood in all his mortal splendor, revealing his tan skin scarred by past adventures. He was healthy, with the body of an athlete and his arm outstretched to better display the toned muscles under his skin.  

“What a surprise!” Aphrodite said with mirth, tracing her finger along the surface of the mirror, “Look at his little dimples!” 

Indeed, a twin set of dimples rested over his lower back, no longer concealed by his clothing. But that was not all. Some men were cursed to be rather flat in their rear, leaving them looking awkward or incomplete at times, but Aphrodite was equally pleased that Odysseus had something worth looking at below his dimples. In addition to the well-defined muscles in his shoulders and back, he sported the most grabbable bottom. 

If Odysseus was not doomed to be the plaything between kings, Aphrodite might have been tempted to take him for herself. 

She held out her hands as if Odysseus was nothing more than an exotic animal on display. Poseidon was leaning forward in his chair, his head tilted with interest. Zeus, too, seemed sold at last. His golden eyes sparkled more brightly than usual as he traced over the little king’s backside. He ran his tongue over his teeth. 

Aphrodite smiled, “So, my dears… what do you say? Is Odysseus of Ithaca to be your judge?”

[theocddiaries]

[In a car, rushing] Knuckles: Could you stop yelling at me? I'm trying to concentrate here. Rouge: Oh, sorry, it’s just I’m a little sensitive because I got used as bait because you didn’t want to give that jerk a stupid little figurine! Knuckles: It’s not about the figurine! It’s what it represents! Rouge: Oh, nice! And what about me?! What— Watch out!!! [Knuckles crashes the car into a cake tasting stand, taking Sonic with him. Knuckles gets out of the car to check on Tails.] Knuckles: Oh, the kid! Tails, are you okay?! [hugs him]: I could never forgive myself if something happened to you! Plus, Sonic would kill me. Sonic [trying to push himself up with his elbows]: Don’t worry about that, you almost killed me yourself. Knuckles: How could I not hit you when you ran right into the car, you reckless hedgehog?! Besides, it’s Rouge’s fault, she wouldn't stop yelling at me. Rouge: You know what? Go to hell! I was tortured because of you! [Omega and Shadow approach to check on her.] Omega: WHAT? Shadow: What happened?? Knuckles: Nothing, an old childhood friend from a neighbouring tribe that ended up being enemies with mine and wanted me to return a figurine that my tribe won fair and square. And since I refused, they kidnapped your sister to make me give in. Shadow: Are you okay? Knuckles: Yeah, yeah, I don’t give in easily under pressure. Shadow: I wasn’t talking to you, idiot! Knuckles: What a temper this family has… Sonic: Excuse me, the one who got run over wants a bit of your attention… Can someone have the decency to call an ambulance?! Rouge: No, it's okay, I was just locked up inside the bathroom without my phone. It was hard, but I'll get over it. Thank you for your concern, though. [Shadow and Omega look at her, and Shadow pushes her, making a dismissive gesture] Omega: ROUGE, YOU MATCH PERFECTLY WITH THE ECHIDNA. Shadow: Yes, because you're just as dumb when you want to be. You scared me. Rouge: Haha! You care about me! In the end, this was worth it. Knuckles: You're welcome. Sonic: For the love of… Robotnik [approaches]: Hey, Sonic, how’s it going? Tell me something. Sonic: I think I’ve broken— Robotnik: No, man, about my cake! I win, right??? Sonic: …Look, Eggman, I’ll say this in one simple sentence: go screw yourself, your cake, and this stupid contest! Robotnik: What?? I spent the whole day sabotaging the others to—?? Amy: Sabotage??? Robotnik: …Who said sabotage here? Omega: TRUE. THE CORRECT WORD WAS SABOTAGING. Robotnik: Shut up, piece of trash! Amy: Seriously, it’s impossible to do anything in here, you mess things up even when we’re on the same page!!!! Robotnik: And if you know how I am, why invite me!? This is as much my fault as it is yours!!! [Sonic stands up with Tails’ help.] Knuckles: Damn, Sonic, you can run really well, but you still don’t know how to walk? Sonic: …Look, Knuckles, I’m not kicking you because you broke my leg. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m limping my way to the hospital. Amy [goes to support him by his free arm]: You’re right, Sonic, I’m sorry. [to the group]: Selfish!!!! Robotnik: Selfish, she says… Tell me, who’s gonna return my ten minutes watching baking tutorials??? [to Knuckles]: All because of you, idiot. How did it occur to you to drive a car when you can barely breathe and walk at the same time! Knuckles: Oh, here we go! It’s all my fault! Now it turns out I’m driving a car without a license and I run over a hedgehog and a dozen cakes, and suddenly I’m irresponsible…

[tf2occontest]

Joseph Panganiban (Defuser Class) VS The Courier

(Full matchup list here)

Alright team, here's a recap: This is a contest to determine who amongst you will take the top of the leaderboards and be hired at TFI! Simply put, whoever gets the most votes gets to move on, and whoever doesn't... Well. They'll be put down swiftly and cleanly. :}

So, mann your stations, because here are your next contestants! Vote for your favorite mercenary who you want to win the TF2 OC Contest! - P

OC INFO UNDER THE CUT!

We highly encourage you to take a peek to make your decision!

Joseph Panganiban (Defuser Class)

@that-one-digi

Image credit: @/that-one-digi

joseph "defuser" panganiban is a 25 year old man hired by mann co. their job is to take down sticky traps and disable sentries, for the most part. their main weapon of choice is their EMP bombs that neutralize the electronic components in a sticky bomb that allow it to remote detonate. another effect these bombs have is short-circuiting a sentry, sappers or any electronic device within a small radius; causing it to be temporarily unsuable.

they are a hot-headed, stubborn, and brash individual who likes to solve things with their fists and baser kill instincts when pissed-off.

The Courier

@sicc-nasti

Image credit: @/sicc-nasti

Do you like receiving your mail on time and your packages in pristine condition - untouched by curious hands and peeping eyes? Do you love when your woefully embarrassing love letters filled with poetry from your soul are delivered with the utmost care and secrecy? Does it fill you with glee when your special snacks you ordered overseas finally make its way into your hands and not a SINGLE piece is missing?

If you said yes to any of these questions then WOW do I NOT have the guy for you!!!!

Instead-

TFI presents you something you didn't know was possible OR legal - weaponized postal services!

Meet your 10th Class-

The Courier!

By intercepting and opening someone else's mail, an individual can gain access to confidential information that can be used for identity theft, fraud, or other illegal activities. And we wouldn’t want that, now would we? That's why our solution to this simple problem is bringing the mail to the battlefield! Courier is equipped with MANN CO approved disposable stackable mail crates for your climbing or shielding needs. Just think of how nice it would be to build a tower to do taunts on or have cover from that enemy Heavy's hail of bullets. Sure it's clunky but nothing shreds paper faster than a bullet - that's science tested and math approved by TFI scientists! And monkeys!

Courier is THE MANN for the job.

If that ain't enough to catch your attention, let's take a peek at the men behind the uniform.

RED’s Courier is a Puerto Rican ex-felon hailing from the greatest place on earth! New York City! With an insatiable appetite for all things fraud, deli meats, and violence - what more could you ask from a guy?

BLU's Courier is a Puerto Rican-Italian ex-con plucked from the greatest place on earth! Jersey City! With an insatiable appetite for all things smuggling, deli meats, and violence - what more could you ask from a guy?

Not enough for a vote?

Well, listen, I'm not above bribery. If you vote for them, Courier promises to not read your mail for like a week and INSTEAD- will write you up a totally not fraudulent marriage certificate to any merc you want!! Just think! Finally legally married to Heavy! Or Engie! How’s that sound for incentive, boss?

THROUGH RAIN, SHINE, BULLET HAIL OR SNOW, THEY’RE YOUR COURIER.

VOTE FOR COURIER IN THIS UPCOMING TF2 OC CONTEST

Maybe there’ll be enough in the budget for a third one!

[katerinaaqu]

Again I agree and as I said i can see where people come from but I am also dropping some more stuff on the table. I never said you did excuse it I only say that even for THAT culture certain things were considered assault. I mean in their actual legal books and such.

(Oh I won't hahaha I don't wanna get started either)

I know there is a lot of misconception in regards to that and indeed many toning down voices to say the very least but I am explaining how it was presented in many sources. And what you say "good" or "bad" is in the ears of the beholder even in antiquity. If you read Odysseus in Homer and if you read Odysseus in Euripides is like reading two different characters because clearly Euripedes wanted to depict him as much more rotten of a fellow, for once. So the "good" and "bad" is not something new here either which is interesting to think. I usually get furious when peolle use as you say fandom to characterize the figures of the sources

No but you said often women=bad and you brought up misogyny and again I contested that because as I said we have some amazing work that depicts women so again I simply slightly disagreed to that saying that the inequalities were indeed serious but it wasn't the same as to write "women=bad" in fact more men commit atrocities in Greek mythology than women. And I disagreed because again we keep ringing "misogynistic written by men" and then you have people even in the 19th century say "oh gosh women are depicted so well in this story! It must have been written by a woman!" Which actually shows how probably is us modern humans who are looking for misogyny "written by men" and we do not look at the complexity of the texts. Like is Clytemnestra a misogynistic character "written by men"? In my opinion no. Her drama is depicted in such a wah that you do not agree with her actions but you see her reasoning and Orestes calling her wicked? Like come on the kid was exiled because of her. Surely she wouldn't have had a positive description by her son. Is Helen a "misogynistic character written by men"? How? Because men speak badly about her in the texts? Especially in later tragedies? Doesn't that say more about the men than the woman herself? Or the Trojan women speak badly of her? How not to? The war happened in her name. They project their fury to a sacrificial lamb. That sounds more like human psychology to me than "misogyny written by men". Was Penelope misogynistic written by men? Penelope who held at bay 108 drunks with her seer will and brain? Why are we saying "misogynistic written by men" every time a woman is portrayed as antagonistic? Like Medea for example. For every Medea we also have a Helen or a Hecuba etc. Antagonists being female is just another form of writing antagonists to me. Like so many others. Both men and women are depicted as antagonists in greek mythology. If we speak "ha ha misogyny" every time we have a female antagonist then how is that equality or good? Quite frankly like I said we have more men being antagonists or violent or murderers than we have women (locrian Ajax, Thyestes, Atreus, Minus with his blood offering, Odysseus with the taking of Troy, Agamemnon with his behavior against Achilles and Chryses, Neoptolemus and the violent murder of Priam and Astyanax, Orestes and his violent killing of little Helen or the plotting of murder of Helen and the taking hostage of Hermione etc) why isn't anyone looking at those and say "ha! Misandry" but every time someone sees Medea or Clytemnestra they scream misogyny?

But I would agree on some aspects of ancient greek literature for example the acceptance of their husband or master etc even if they have no reason to (although I would argue we do see that in men as well but is more frequent in women) see for example Briseis being in cold acceptance of Achilles even if he killed her family. But then you have Euripides in Iphigenia in Aulis making Clytemnestra speak up and he even inserts a story of his own that Agamemnon killed her husband to claim her as his wife and she speaks out against him and accuses him so even for that we have amazing writing examples

Were some writers misogynistic writing some twisted versions of myths? Of course. The same way that there were misandrists too that write twisted versions of men in antiquity etc. Just food for thought. Was it a perfect society? Absolutely not. Are we perhaps looking way too hard to accuse the writing "of men" every time we disagree with a portrayal of a character? In my opinion yes. But that is just me. I usually look for individual examples rather than say "misogyny written by men" because honestly we have writers who are good and those who are bad those who are detailed with what they write and those who are not etc. And I do not see a consistent undermining of women in ancient greek literature to excuse the generalization of misogyny in the totality of Greek literature as many people say. No more than characterize misandry either.

I agree greek mythology has amazing characters in them of all types of modalities and thoughts so yeah. I absolutely agree.

Not at all. Homer is a valuable source and is great to look through him. But arguably Homer is one of the sources that REALLY knew how yo write female characters such as Helen with her brilliant mind and speaking up nature also Penelope and of course Circe a goddess living by herself making her own choices etc.

i’m so sick of the “odysseus cheated” debate… because it’s always “odysseus was loyal, circe and calypso assaulted him” vs “odysseus cheated because he slept with circe and calypso”. YOU CAN’T APPLY MODERN MORALS TO A STORY WRITTEN THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO…. what odysseus did with circe and calypso wasn’t considered assault OR cheating….he was loyal to penelope either way…..tell me you understand that

[numberonetacostan]

I always associated taco as being at least cat-like in a sense. I gave her very sharp nails that I refer to as claws, sharp teeth and cat pupils. And so I think it would be very funny if taco just very casually eats birds from time to time. People are chilling or I dunno and taco sees bird, and her first instinct is to CRUSH it with her claws and put it in her mouth, saying that whoever is witness of such act is horrified LMAO, mic is like '''?!IUYHDSUIDWHGDIA WHAT THE FUCK WHY DID YOU DO THAT'' and taco is like ''...free food...?''

Hi Kiara!!!^^ Welcome back, and thank you for submitting an ask!!! (^˵◕ω◕˵^)

I also think of Taco as rather cat-coded/sharp!!! I always draw her gijinka with fangs, slit pupils, claws, and even pointy ears X)!!! I like to joke with my partner that Mephone watched a vampire movie before he made her, and it subconsciously influenced his subconscious creation of Taco. I think it's fun if some of the fantasy media Mephone may have seen slips into his contestants, yeah? He makes them human, but maybe with a few tweaks!!!! Other than OJ since he is the Most Normal Guy of all time.

Anyways!! Taco randomly committing murder <3. I think with all the time she's spent in the woods with a shallow supply of food, she would key in on small animals she could catch if she really needed it. I like to think that she prefers to be vegetarian if the option is available, but when you're homeless in the woods you don't always have a choice, yeah? Caring for people could be a big part of how she expresses love after having not had her physical needs met for such a long time, so I can imagine her bringing Mic (who I don't view as vegetarian) a dead animal and she's all lovey about it like "here Mic <3 I brought you food all for you <3 I don't want you to be hungry <3" and Mic knows Taco is trying to be nice and good but she has a still warm corpse in her hands now.

[lunapwrites]

I am only going to post about this once.

Doing a little cleanup on my about me pages... kinda feel the need to revisit the author-induced HP-verse blowback and renewed fan creator exodus for a moment, just bc I keep seeing... discourse.

For context, in case you're reading this far and are unaware: I am pretty open about being nonbinary probably most accurately agender? still kinda feeling that out, and about being queer in general. So I feel like I have at least a small leg to stand on in this conversation, given the umbrella I fall under.

I understand why other authors and artists feel the right decision for them is to disengage from fandom, or to remove/orphan their body of work. I support them in their choice, and I wish them the best. Likewise, I understand why others may choose to remain, and to continue creating content (subversive or otherwise) that speaks to them and to others who are able to see themselves and their experiences in it. As a member of this camp myself, I salute these people. It's not an easy decision to make to continue in this climate.

I am extremely fortunate in terms of where I'm at in my journey, and where I live and work, and a supportive partner who is cis enough for the both of us lol. I understand that my situation comes with a certain degree of privilege - but that privilege is bought with the sacrifice of my truest self. These online spaces are one of the precious few places I have where I can express those sides of my identity, and my writing is the best place I have to explore them. Characters like Remus and Sirius and Tonks? They're the most familiar to me, and therefore the safest. For me, continuing is the best choice for the sake of my mental health - even with the pressure to quit.

To that end, it... bothers me a bit when I see discourse claiming that people who continue to engage in and create for this fandom are morally deficient. That, by and large, is not the case. Most folks are just out here trying to do the best they can. I don't think that shaming or call-out posts are constructive.

If you are expecting me to post disclaimers or to self-flagellate on every fandom post/fic, you will be disappointed. I will instead continue as I have been and put my limited bandwidth and energy into keeping my queer friends and family housed, fed, and safe. And I will continue to do so without posting about it because frankly I don't have the spoons to advertise every time I do something. (That said, if you're in the US and in need of help, please reach out privately: I probably have resources I can leverage.)

I am a big proponent of doing what you can with what you have and that every little thing counts. Make friends and network. Promote causes. Feed each other. Show up for each other. That's the important part. Like, it's not all big activism and protesting and bold proclamations. Sometimes it's just buying eggs.

Idk. I just feel like we all have better ways to spend our time than all this empty grandstanding. Just go... do something positive. Even if it's just providing emotional support, you know? Everything counts.

[hotvintagepoll]

Theda Bara (Salome)—She is so beautiful but in a way which is so... Bug-like? I truly cannot think of any word which better encapsulates her big round eyes, expressive eyebrows, gestures, fashion choices, and overall vibe than 'scrungly' does. There is something wild - nay, feral- about her. We all know the original goth girl didn't get what she deserved in the ladies tournament, so please let her shine here. She is indisputably the scrungliest gal of the bunch.

Raj Kapoor (Neel Kamal, Andaz, Anari)—I take it, 'scrungly little guy' means some pathetic little meow meow who you cannot help but think of as cute and root for until the end. Raj Kapoor has the RANGE. While he is certainly hot and certainly famous in India, the noobs on Tumblr definitely haven't heard of him which, i guess, fits the requirement of the participant being relatively obscure. And while he can play dashing heros and all with remarkable skill, I would argue his best work is when he plays a silly little guy who is hopelessly in love with Nargis.

This is round 3 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Theda Bara:

Raj Kapoor:

Even the vegetable lady calls him scrungly in this one:

Do you want to see a man traipsing in a bucket hat? He almost steps on a bug and then scoops the bug up and saves it! He traipses down the street, joining hands and dancing with children! I realize I'm just listing things he does while singing Kisi Ki Muskurahaton Pe Ho Nisar from Anari, but it's truly one of the scrungliest performances I've ever seen.

This very bisexual scene from Andaz:

Listen, this guy plays a con man in Shree 420 OF COURSE HE'S SCRUNGLY IN IT. And holy shit, have you seen him play a man in love (especially with Nargis)?? He's so pathetic I love him. And he ain't white so obviously not popular with the Tumblrinas so fits your criteria... I hope?

Listen, people can google him and may rightly so say he is hot vintage-guy material. And yes that is correct - he was a hearthrob and popular with ladies all over BUT if you have seen Awaara or Shree 420 you will know him as the lovely scrungly little Charlie-Chapin-tramp-character-inspo vagabond, with his little stick-and-bundle. Listen, if you are looking at Raj Kapoor's 'vagabond' character making his intro in the video below and you don't immediately think 'scrungly' you must have your eyes closed.

[watermelinoe]

i think it's kind of offensive to try to make holocaust denial about trans people but idk

[aishangotome]

Luke & Gilbert's Story of Reminiscence [The Day We Became a Fake Family] - Part 3

Part 2

The one-eyed youth, clad in the scent of blood and gunpowder, was smiling refreshingly as always.

It didn't take long for me to realize that there wasn't much difference between the youth's environment on the battlefield and in everyday life.

His stagnant verdant eyes were intently focused.

There was no disgust in them, but rather—

Luke: It's nice, isn't it? For you.

Gilbert: Hehe, is that so?

At his words, which almost sounded like admiration, the youth smiled gently as he wiped the blood with linen.

Luke: You can kill all the bad guys and the ones you hate, so you don't have any worries, right?

Gilbert: I do. I'm full of worries.

Luke: Liar.

Gilbert: You know, I hate lies.

Luke: Then, do you have worries?

Gilbert: Yes. Obsidian, you see, is also known as the country of deceit and corruption.

Gilbert: It's full of rotten people everywhere, and there aren't enough hands to clean it all up.

Gilbert: Even if I kill them all and clean it up, new filth will soon emerge. My worries never end.

Luke: Are there that many rotten people?

Gilbert: Isn't it the same around you, Luke?

Luke: Yeah. I've talked to all sorts of people since I started living here...

Luke: I don't think it's as dirty a country as you say.

Gilbert: Is everyone kind?

Luke: If you're not pulling strings behind the scenes, then everyone is kind.

Gilbert: Even I don't control "goodwill." Not many people know that I'm your guardian.

Gilbert: If you don't see corruption in your eyes, then my cleaning wasn't in vain.

Luke: ...It must be tough for you too.

Gilbert: It is tough, but someone has to do it.

Gilbert: I want to make it a country that promising young people like you can be proud of.

Luke: You're a promising young person too, aren't you?

The one-eyed youth just smiled quietly, neither nodding nor shaking his head.

Luke: ...Could it be that you...

Luke: Are more of an "old man" than I think?

The one-eyed youth, after a moment of bewilderment at the boy's serious and shocked expression, burst into laughter.

Gilbert: Ahaha... To call me that... you're probably the only one... haha!

Luke: ...You don't have to laugh that much!

Gilbert: Sorry, sorry, don't sulk. I was thinking that being called "old man" isn't so bad.

Luke: Don't you hate it?

Gilbert: Why? It's proof that I've lived a long life, shouldn't I be proud of it?

Luke: ...Hmm.

The youth, after laughing for a while and wiping his tears, peered at the boy who had turned away.

Gilbert: Hey, do you like Obsidian?

Luke: More than Rhodolite, anyway.

Gilbert: Oh?

Luke: What's with that smug look?

Gilbert: I'm just glad.

Luke: About what?

Gilbert: Because you—.......

-

???: Yo, mind if I join you guys?

—...Suddenly, a third voice rang out, and the seat next to Luke was filled.

Luke: Huh? Jin?

Jin: I happened to see you guys as I was passing by.

Gilbert: "Happened," huh...?

Even with the sudden intruder, Gilbert didn't change his expression and started to gobble down the honey cake that had been brought to the table.

Jin: What are you doing with my little brother?

Gilbert: Hehe, what do you think?

Jin: ...Were you having an eating contest?

Luke: That's right. His stomach is abnormal.

Gilbert: Luke, you're a light eater considering you're taller than me.

Luke: Compared to you, anyone would be a light eater.

Jin: If you're such a big eater, I'll let our chef know next time.

Gilbert: Eh, will you increase the portions? You're so kind, unlike Chevalier. Thank you.

Jin: No problem at all. In return, though, would you mind not bullying my little brother?

Gilbert: Don't be silly, I'm not bullying him. He's in the foreign affairs faction, so it's his job to entertain me, isn't it?

Gilbert: Besides, today's "sightseeing" has been cleared with Chevalier.

Jin: Oh? I can't believe you were so considerate.

Jin: But there are others in the foreign affairs faction, right?

Jin: In particular, our Clavis and Nokto are professionals at diplomacy...

Gilbert: Of course, I know. I also appreciate their skills.

Gilbert: But if I ask Clavis, things will get complicated, and I hate that foxy boy because he's a liar.

Gilbert: Chevalier is out of the question, so by process of elimination, I have no choice but to ask Luke, right?

Jin: Then next time, include me as an option. I know the town well.

Jin: As an older brother, I'm not comfortable burdening only the youngest.

Luke: Jin...

Gilbert: ...Hehe, good. I've been wanting to have a proper chat with you.

Gilbert: I'll consider you for the next sightseeing guide.

Luke: ...Hey.

Gilbert: But right now, I'm asking Luke.

Gilbert: A wise eldest brother like you understands what the most appropriate choice is in this situation, right...?

.

.

.

Part 4

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[ghostoffuturespast]

Honestly, getting real tired carrying and supporting other folks around here when most of them aren't returning the favor...