#This is what I meant by the propaganda shirt

[salamie-baby]

Buy wolfquest

[bogus-dude-totally-rad]

Israel's Propaganda (From a Jewish perspective)

I grew up in a Jewish area on a whole other continent from Israel, and the IDF used to visit us. I remember them visiting my day camp when I was a very young child. They'd set up a cardboard Western Wall and we'd write wishes to stick in it. Afterwards, they would straight up have us do army training drills altered to be 'fun' for kids. They did this every year.

(Putting a read more because this is long)

I don't remember all the things they had us do, but I remember having to crawl through mud and rocks and being told not to touch the string above us. They played it off like a fun game, even though a lot of kids got hurt doing it.

They did this because they wanted us to one day join their army. They came to us year after year to get to our children and make them think the IDF is cool and hey they should totally join up when they're older.

Sometimes they brought us candy. Sometimes they gave out IDF t-shirts. When I was a child, having that shirt was seen as cool.

They don't just try to reach you as a kid, though. They have something else they do when we are entering adulthood.

It's called a Birthright trip, and when you're a Jewish kid, this trip is hyped up so much. You look forward to it for years.

A Birthright trip means that as a Jew, even if you're not Israeli by blood, you have the right to go to Israel for free one time (fucked how I got to go there for free, meanwhile some Palestinians can't even visit or live in their homeland).

This trip is pure propaganda. It's played off as a fun rite of passage, something meant to make us feel closer to our 'homeland' (even if you have 0 family members from there and have no connection to it beyond being Jewish).

We're escorted by IDF soldiers around our own age. We're given lots of group activities meant to make us all feel closer. As the trip went on, I noticed something weird. There were so many people in charge making jokes about how the real Birthright experience is hooking up with a soldier. It felt like it was being encouraged. And it worked really well. A lot of people (myself included) ended up in relationships with the soldiers.

By the end of the trip it got very obvious that they were hoping we would fall in love, move there, and have babies that would eventually join their army. They tried so hard to make us want to stay.

Most of us barely knew anything about Palestine. I think this is why they want teens/young adults. They hope we're naive (I definitely was) and that we'll fall for the narrative they painted.

I was lucky on my trip, because our tour guide did something he probably wasn't supposed to do. He told us a little about the conflicts of Israel, but not just from Israel's perspective. He told us some of the horrible things that went on. He even told us how some people pull up chairs to watch strikes against the Palestinian people. He said he wanted to give us information from both sides, so that we can form our own opinions, and he did so in a hushed tone away from the other trip supervisors. His words were what made me start to really open my eyes and examine what was going on.

By that point, pretty much everyone on our trip was agreeing this was all just propaganda. This trip meant to make us fall in love with Israel was making us realize how fucked up things were.

Near the end of the trip, we were brought to a military cemetery. A lot of us didn't want to go in, because it felt wrong to take a tour through a graveyard. We were told we can't leave until we did it.

And that's around the point where one of the soldiers broke down. He was crying and shaking and when we asked why, he said he was scared of ending up there. He didn't want to be in the IDF. He didn't want to be a soldier. He didn't believe in what they were fighting for, and the job he was given in the army was a very dangerous one. He didn't get a choice. We tried to comfort him, and some of the other soldiers did too. It was how I found out most of them didn't want to be soldiers at all.

Eventually we went in the cemetery, hoping if we just got it over with we could leave quicker. None of the soldiers were happy to be here. Making them go through there was straight up cruel, and the guy I mentioned was not the only one to have a breakdown.

Our tour guide (different person from our main one), had an attitude like he was giving a tour of something we should be proud of, or in awe of. All these graves, most of which were filled with people barely into their 20s. And he was treating it like a tour of a museum. He kept loudly talking about how it was an honour to die protecting Israel, how it's a harsh reality. A necessity. I felt so bad for the mourners nearby who had to hear someone speak like that about their dead loved ones. How many of the dead had been forced into the roles that got them killed?

After that the propaganda was very blatant. They had us watch videos meant to convince us to move there. Again, we weren't allowed to leave.

So yeah. That's what Birthright is about.

On top of everything I mentioned, we're told from a young age that as Jews, we're supposed to see Israel as our safe haven. Our holy land. We're taught to revere it.

Fortunately, we're also taught something else. Something that goes above all of that: Never again means never again. It doesn't matter who it happens to, we MUST stand up against genocide. We cannot stay quiet and watch it happen.

Anyway, this post is long enough. I wanted to share the kind of lengths Israel has gone to for the sake of propaganda. They bathe us in it from the very beginning of our lives. I'm hoping that by sharing these experiences, people who have been through the same might see what's really going on.

[best-at-episode]

Round 2 - Side A: Poll 4 of 4

Sky Witch:

Marceline is on a top-secret mission tracking Maja the Sky Witch. But when she loses the witch’s trail, Marceline turns to Princess Bubblegum for help.

Thank You:

The Snow Golem visits the border between the Fire Kingdom and the Ice Kingdom and discovers a lost fire wolf that needed the golem’s help to get home.

propaganda under the cut

Sky Witch:

of all the bubbline classics (tm) of the show, this episode is one of the best in the series, in showcasing the bittersweet, tenuous relationship these two are starting to forge in the aftermath of what was missing. there is still so much to unpack, in regards of both how they view themselves and each other. however. marceline will still ask bonnie for help. and bonnie will still help marceline regardless, because how could she not? despite everything, they will come back for each other (as varmints will tell us), even if they both are not completely over the hurt they caused each other, hanging bitter throughout the episode, making them lash out. yet, bonnie will give away the shirt marceline literally threw at her at a random concert, before even knowing each other, that she kept for years and treasured so much to wear daily and nightly, just because of how much hambo meant to marceline, just to make her happy; because, how could she not? like.....c'mon. the fact that the shirt itself is hundreds of times more powerful than hambo, like c'mon. vote just for the sheer yuri insanity.

What Was Missing may have invented bubbline, but I wanted to make sure Sky Witch got nominated because this is the moment where it really clicked for me. It felt validating, like the subtext people got from WWM wasn’t just fans looking too hard into things. Something shifted in my brain after this that turned me from an Enjoyer of the show to a super-fan.

Thank You:

I didn’t get this one as a teen, but it’s grown on me a lot. The theme of “even forces that seem diametrically opposed don’t have to be at odds, everyone deserves a little kindness” plus the quiet mood of the episode make it feel very special to me now.

[generic-anime-boy-bracket]

Round 1, Group A: Matchup 2

Kei Nagai vs Ooyama

Reasons for being generic + Propaganda below

Kei Nagai

Reasons:

Black hair, white shirt, black pants, generic high schooler, just wants to live a normal life

Well, looks wise he isn't anything special. He's got like relatively short, black hair. Dark eyes. He's not especially tall or short (like 2 cm below average). The wiki says he's got a fairly normal body shape/proportions. Looks wise he's pretty generic. He's likable (or hateable? interesting? I looked up pictures of him and saw someone's post about why he's the worst anime character lol) for other reasons. Also he got to like the finals of the low empathy swag tournament (lost to azula :/) !(

plain appearance, boring fashion, rule-abiding

Propaganda:

Easy to mistake for Shinji

he wants to be the world's most generic boy so bad but the story context just won't let him

Ooyama

Reasons:

If you take one look at the cast of Angel Beats, you'll notice most of them have some eccentric appearances, or at the very least, unnaturally colored hair. Not Ooyama. He looks like he was meant to be a background character. He is introduced as "his special talent is that he doesn't have one". Not only that, but his personality seems generic at first too! He is so incredibly generic that another character, after having a conversation with him, mistakes him for an NPC. 

Propaganda:

Ooyama may be a Generic Anime Boy, but he does have a charm to him that has made me his number one fan! In the anime, he is shown as forgetful and easily flustered. He is aware that he seems pretty unremarkable, so towards the end, he says he wants to prove himself! Despite this, he seems pretty skilled at using a sniper. In the manga, he regularly makes video game references in regards to what him and others are up to (such as saying new members have joined the team, giving encouragement is "restoring mana", and talks about skill level). He's generic yes, but he's also a huge dork and I love him so much.

[demonichikikomori]

I Ain't Too Proud To Beg!

Ruggie Bucchi x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4k+ Ao3 Word Count: 31k+

Art by llo_91s on Twitter!

Yohohohai!! I am here with more Ruggie Bucchi Propaganda!! This is the next part of my Ao3 series and this was inspired by a 90's song!! Women aren't often known to pursue sex like men when depicted in a lot of media. But... Reader gets just as horny as the average Tumblr and Ao3 enjoyer!! And now I shall convert you all into seeing the light that is: ☆Service Top Ruggie Bucchi☆ This is just the sfw post of course and the smutty goodness is on Ao3!! Also I want to thank my Moot and now close friend Scar for proof-reading on my behalf!! What a doll!! ↜(╰ >ω<)╯ψ <3 <3 <3

SUMMARY:

It was only a day later. You wished to get closer with Ruggie, but you continued to fall short on words. As you saw your chances start to slip further and further away, you decided to take a new approach with a presented opportunity. With a blushed face and hands tightly gripping his shirt... Ruggie got to see a much bolder side of you as you requested a walk out into the hall of Savanaclaw with him.

Tags: One-Sided... Or is it?

Your relationship with Ruggie has changed. At least, you felt like it had changed. 

When you woke up, you were gifted with a small tray of pills and a glass of water on your nightstand. The hyena was gone. The pale sun filled the corners of your room as you sat up in bed, the blanket was slipping off of your naked body. You could see the dust floating through the air as you scrubbed the sleep from your eyes and let out a soft yawn. You looked over the small foil tray and quickly popped them out and into your palm. You took them with a sense of urgency as your brain began to catch up with your body. You had a feeling you knew what they were left there for. No need to think too hard about the medicine’s details.

As you finished the glass of water, you noticed a piece of paper on your nightstand. You set the glass aside to pick up the hastily created note. There was a drawing of you both on the front made in black pen. He was holding your hand in his, his tail appeared to be wagging and you had leaned over to kiss his cheek with your eyes closed. You flipped the paper around and scanned over the swirls of his r’s and the curves of his b’s. He was telling you that he was sorry he left so early and there was something in the oven for you to eat. Once you had your ‘medicine’ first. 

He signed his name at the bottom; your thumb instinctively went to roll over the black ink etched into the paper. You could picture him in your mind, tail swishing from side to side as he worked in the silence of the morning. Only the birds chirping and crickets strumming joined him as he prepared his trip out of Ramshackle. Your heart pitter-pattered around your rib cage knowing he had done so much while you were sleeping. You almost felt guilty for not waking up sooner. You wanted to talk with him before he left. You wanted him to tell you good morning. 

You wanted a kiss from Ruggie Bucchi.

You sighed as you slipped out of bed to get dressed for school. You had already missed a few classes but the least you could do was still show your face on campus. Once you laced up your shoes, you pulled open your door in search of Grim. You peeled into each of the usually vacant rooms in hopes of spotting the little gray monster. Once he was found, you walked into the room to shake him from side to side. With a soft yawn and blue eyes prying themselves open, the beast told you how sleeping in a separate bed was indeed lonely… But the rest he got was amazing! “Do you want to start sleeping in your own room from now on?” You suggested with a slight tilt of your head. You didn’t mind sharing a room with Grim, but you were a girl and he was… A pet cat? Of course Grim didn’t think seeing you in your underwear was a big deal when he came flying into the room. Even when he tried jumping into the bath with you to play in the soapy water it meant nothing to him. But it was the fact that you didn’t have any privacy in the dorm you were in charge of. And if Ruggie were to come back for a ‘next time’ like he claimed, you would definitely need that space to yourself. “Hmmm…” He trailed off with a hum and looked down at his paws. “I want to try it, just for a week! But of course, I still demand to have access to our bed! In case you get scared!” He agreed to the deal of sleeping in a separate room for your sake. A smile curled onto your face as you scooped Grim into your arms, feeling his little paws clinging to your blazer as he smiled with you. “If you ever have any bad dreams my door is always unlocked for you.” You offered sweetly and he started to grumble. “That’s my line!” His pitchforked tail squished as you walked down the old creaky steps, he lifted his head to sniff at the air and widened his eyes with surprise. “How long were you up before coming to get me? It smells really good! Did you make pancakes?” He asked excitedly as you entered the kitchen. Right, Ruggie said he left you something in the oven. You pulled open the oven door and your eyes widened as you carefully pulled out the large plate. A small stack of fluffy pancakes were drizzled in syrup with two strawberries on top, sliced into the shape of hearts with a pat of butter between them. Grim was drooling against your arm as he tried to break free to reach the plate of pancakes. Your face started to burn as you placed the food on the counter, grabbing a fork with Grim. There’s no way he still sees you as just a friend.

~=+=~

You sat beside Ruggie as you always did during your History of Magic class. His elbow gently nudged against yours just as it did yesterday afternoon. You could smell the scent of fresh grass and cucumbers creeping into your senses, easing you into a state of tranquility with each passing inhale and exhale. You loved sitting next to Ruggie. Your eyes glanced over the paper to see he had drawn another simplified version of himself with a little note underneath his smiling expression. 

Thank you for the money. I just sent it out to my Grammy today. Did you see everything I left for you? Sorry for leaving so early, I had to get Leona up.

You smiled and reached your hand over to draw a small heart beside a simplified version of your own face. Your pencil tapped the page before you began to write back to him. 

I hope she feels better. Thank you for everything. It made me happy. The pancakes were super soft. But now Grim is asking me to make them again. Sorry for stealing the credit!

You assumed he used what he found in the Ramshackle dorm, but you didn’t mind. You only wished that he would have waited a little longer for you to wake up. Your heart yearned to see his sleeping face now that you knew he had seen yours. And of course, so much more. Your face began to burn as your shoulder pressed against his and your eyes flicked up, he was looking at you now. Big and round bluish gray eyes, they had fallen half-lidded with each patient blink. You wanted to ask him about the current state of your so-called ‘friendship’. 

You wanted to know what you really were to him. Does he really see you as just a friend? That moment you shared in the bath said otherwise. Him leaving you a note said otherwise. The glass of water and pills said otherwise. The fact that he even bothered to put in the effort to make you breakfast said otherwise. Before your hand could scribble across the notebook page Ruggie had broken his gaze to beat you to it. 

You feeling okay? You got close and started staring. Is something on my face? Do you want the recipe I used for the pancakes?

His question made you feel silly. Hyena’s don’t exactly mate for life like other animals might. He can ‘like’ you and still have sex with you. He never said anything about love. Ruggie was allowed to do whatever and whoever he pleased.

The soft thrum of your pulse was echoing in your ears. You began writing, feeling your shoulders begin to droop as you tapped your pencil against the page.

I just thought you smelled good today. Your hair. I wanted to get closer to figure out the scent.

You always thought he smelled good, so it wasn’t entirely a lie. Even when he’s running around to do everything for the sake of earning some money, for his Grammy, for keeping his place in Night Raven College. You always noticed how good he smelled and how well put together he was. He snickered to himself with a small flick from his ears and you gently elbowed his side as he wrote.

I just used the same soap as yesterday. You’re just officially paying attention to me now. Was the sex really that great? We’ll have to set up our next ‘meat’ and greet soon. &lt;3

You hid your embarrassed frown behind your sleeve as you eyed the winking face he had drawn. Three little freckles under each eye and a wide fanged smile. You just told him to be quiet as you began writing again back and forth, just like yesterday afternoon. Ignoring the question on how well he did or the mention of having him come back over, you talked about your favorite soaps and their scents. Ruggie even mentioned how he was picky with a certain brand of shampoo he liked. You talked about how you felt about Grim, how Ruggie felt about Leona and how you both agreed to ship them off in a box somewhere else. Just for a week or two so you had a moment to relax. You talked about how hungry you were and so was he. You talked about agreeing to go off campus after class to grab something. 

But you never talked with him about how you felt.

You didn’t have the courage to. Not yet at least.

As the bell chimed, you left class side by side as Ruggie stretched his arms over his head with a fanged smile. “There’s a shop I found that makes these really, really good smoothies. I go there sometimes for Leona.” He suggested as he bumped his hip into yours. Your posture was stiff and you looked like you were scowling now as you walked slowly after the hyena, and this bothered Ruggie. “Hey, what’s the face for?” He asked, sounding concerned as you straightened out. Your face had began to redden and you shook your head in response. “Oh! It’s just, Grim wants to start sleeping in his own room for a while. I’m a little worried about him.” You explained, not completely lying, but not completely telling the truth either. Ruggie seemed to hum in response to signal a sense of understanding. “Grim is his own monster, he has his reasons. Besides, everyone needs their own room. At least, they should.” Ruggie wiggled his ears and used his hand to push a stray piece of hair behind your ear. He seemed to be closing in on you as your gazes locked. “If you feel like something is wrong, then just say it.” You felt your stomach twist into a tight pretzel. He eyed you with a serious expression as your mouth fell dry. Did Ruggie know? He definitely knows. That serious expression didn’t last long as he studied your terrified expression. He let out a soft snicker and his smile re-appeared as he grabbed your wrist, gently tugging on your arm. “Stop frownin’!” He cheered and began pulling you towards the main entrance of the school. His hand slipped from your wrist and tightly wrapped around yours. Your fingers were laced with his, and your heart began to pound in your skull. “Let’s cut the stressful thinkin’. Seeing you look all sad and hurt is kinda hurting me too.” He admitted softly as he pushed open the door, leading you out to the sunny stone path towards the main gate. You felt like crying. “Let’s hurry, I wanna try the pineapple flavor today!” Does he really know how you feel? “Oh, the strawberry flavor is pretty good. Try that one when we get there!” Why is he acting like this? Is it all in your head? He suggested and you felt your stomach churn. “I’ll pay for it today, but next time you gotta spot us.”

Next time. You were starting to hate him for saying that.

~=+=~

Every day for a week the two of you went off campus for lunch.

And every day was something new.

And everyday, Ruggie paid for it with his own money.

When you went to get your smoothies, you had also gotten shawarma. Ruggie held an orange colored drink while yours was a baby pink. The strawberry flavor was as good as he claimed it would be. You could see the onlookers staring at you with smiles or pinked cheeks. They whispered about how cute it was that you were on a date during school. How they wished to be in your shoes to experience such a thing. You felt sheepish as you drew closer to the beastman. 

His cheeks had been dusted with pink from the whispers as well. 

The next day Ruggie had taken you to get kebabs and slushies after class. As you walked and ate, a student from a neighboring school bumped into you, causing you to spill the colorful syrup and frozen ice on your blazer, white button up shirt, vest, and the skirt of your uniform. Ruggie was agitated by the clumsiness of the other student as he took the cup away from your sticky hands and with a scowl. But he wasn’t angry at you. As the student profusely apologized, Ruggie had stripped you of your sticky blazer with his much larger one to wrap around you for the time being. Apparently the student that had bumped into you was from Royal Sword Academy. And that only made things escalate. The student, now shaking in fear from Ruggie’s bared teeth and hand gripping tightly to his collar, was being shaken down for compensation. You had never seen the beastman furious enough to show his teeth this way, nor has Ruggie ever raised his voice at anyone. The student was sobbing as you came to the rescue, telling the hyena that enough was enough. You gasped as you tugged at his arm, which was now reeled back as he threatened to hit the student. Accidents happen and a stained shirt isn’t that big of a deal. You didn’t want Ruggie to be upset if you weren’t. “Keep your thug of a boyfriend on a leash next time!” The student snapped the moment he was freed and turned to run back towards his campus. Your colorful and sticky hands had to grab onto Ruggie’s white sleeves to keep him from chasing the student, your face buried itself against his shoulder as you begged him to just let it go. You heard Ruggie make a bizarre sound this time. A raspy giggle that made you feel uneasy. You had heard Hyena’s will ‘laugh’ when they’re angry or anxious. It must be the same for a beastman to carry those traits. You yanked him back to Ramshackle so you could change, gently scolding him to not take things too far next time. As you undressed in your room to put on a fresh uniform, a small voice whispered that you should drag Ruggie inside and speak with him about your feelings. He was just on the other side of the door. But you refused. After what happened, it felt like the worst time to pour your heart out. As you changed and washed your hands, you walked with Ruggie towards the door of your dorm. You had returned his blazer and he slipped it back on in silence. Your smaller hand was then wrapped in the beastman’s as you whispered a ‘thank you’ so quiet you were anxious he didn’t hear you. 

“You’re welcome.” Was his response as you quietly returned to the school. 

The next day was fancy sweet bread and coffee. Ruggie was leading you to the small shop with a smile and a swish of his tail with you in tow close behind. He told you how he wasn’t too big on coffee until he started coming here. Tasting how well it went with the honey glazed bread, he had no choice but to pair them on each trip. He was constantly on the move and needed the extra energy when he was at his lowest. The moment you entered, it had been made apparent that Ruggie came often. The owner greeted you both with a large smile and mentioned the wallet that the beastman was using looked different today. As you quietly looked over the rainbow colored rolls of bread, you listened to the conversation as the owner jokingly asked Ruggie if it was stolen. You didn’t think it was very funny. Ruggie only rolled his eyes and explained that the one he had before belonged to a friend. He was usually shopping for said friend since they were too lazy to do it themself. This was the day you realized these past few trips weren’t spent with Leona’s money, but Ruggie’s. You felt honored that he would spend the money he worked hard to earn on you. Someone who was supposed to just be his friend. Your chest ached as you ordered with Ruggie, picking the same honey glazed bread he had mentioned before to go with your very sweet looking coffee. The owner mentioned how pretty you were while the both of you waited. You could feel the tips of your ears growing hot as you mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ but the flustered feeling the compliment had left you with ended up being doused as the owner continued to speak. “Ahhh, I’m honestly surprised you’re hanging around someone like Ruggie. A little worried actually.” He let out a hearty laugh and again, you didn’t find any of it funny. The comment bothered you a lot. “Thank you, but Ruggie is actually very hardworking! I’m not sure what you’re trying to say. I shouldn’t spend time with my friend? What do you know about Ruggie that I already don’t know?” A grimace spread across your face and you were given a swift apology and so was Ruggie. The owner had only meant to tease you both since you were an odd pair when standing beside each other. The owner saw you as the embodiment of purity and Ruggie looks like the type to steal your lunch money, not fund it. As you were handed the fru-fru drink you felt your heartache as the bitter coffee glazed your tongue. Once you both left the shop you told Ruggie you didn’t want to go back. 

Even though their honey glazed bread and coffee was amazing.

On the final day of the school week, he had taken you to get a burger the size of your face and a soda as big as your forearm. It was overwhelming. Just as these friendly outings with Ruggie were starting to become. You couldn’t take it anymore. Each kind gesture to go out left you with a pit in your stomach. Knowing that Ruggie was just doing this as a friend thing made your chest feel as if it was caving in. You didn’t want Ruggie to be your friend anymore. You wanted to be more than that. Ruggie watched you in the corner of his eye as he ate and scrolled through his phone, watching you poke at your basket of fries. “Not feelin’ hungry?” He asked as his ears began to fold flat against his head. You slumped in your plastic seat and slowly pushed the food away. “I’ll probably share it with Grim later.” All the thoughts stuffed in your head hardly left room in your body for anything else. Ruggie snickered softly as he went to grab you a to-go box. No wasting food allowed! He packaged it up for you and your chest only hurt more. As you made your way back to campus with a small plastic bag holding a styrofoam box, your movements grew sluggish. You didn’t want to go back to class. You wanted to talk with Ruggie, even if your knees felt weak and your palms were layered in sweat. “Ahhh, the weekend starts tomorrow.” Ruggie sighed, almost in a playful way as he walked ahead of you. His tail swished from side to side as he led you past the apple trees in the courtyard of the NRC campus. “I think Leona is going home for the next two days. Apparently it’s Cheka’s birthday, I was hoping that he’d let me tag along. But, someone needs to babysit Savanaclaw.” Ruggie purred as he turned to face you. His round eyes blinked expectantly as you felt your chest start to grow warm. This was a potential opportunity. “So, will you be busy?” You asked with a light kick of your foot as you tighten your grip on the plastic bag. You would have more time to talk with Ruggie if Leona wasn’t calling for him and keeping him busy. Ruggie only shrugged in response as a sly grin painted its way onto his face. “I’m not exactly sure yet. Savanaclaw is pretty self-sufficient. As long as no one does anything dumb, we’ll be okay if Leona has to leave for two days.” The truth was that Ruggie was in no way the official Vice Housewarden. Yet it was unspoken that if Leona wasn’t around, the members would be heading to the hyena for help instead. Same with the other Vice Housewardens. 

“Can…” You trailed off, feeling the string of words knot in your throat. Can I stay the night? is what you wanted to say. Ruggie was watching you with eyes filled with curiosity from what you might be suggesting. Maybe even excitement. “Can… Can you lend me your notes for Astrology this weekend?” You asked and he perked up with a surprised expression, his smile fell off of his face as he gave his head a small shake from the shock of your request. “Ah, sure! I left my book in class, but, yeah I’ll lend it to you.” His expression relaxed as he crossed his arms behind his head with a frown appearing. “I was expecting you to say something else,” Again, there was that playful sigh and his eyes rolled away from you as a smile began to form. “that’s just too bad ain’t it?” He asked as he pivoted so his back faced you again. You felt your stomach twist into another tight pretzel and it dawned on you: maybe you should’ve said what you wanted to say. Maybe that’s what Ruggie wanted from you all this week. He had given you so many opportunities to talk with him. All of these outings… You spent them self-loathing over the hyena appearing to have no romantic interest in you even though he spent the time you had together one-on-one. As Ruggie walked ahead of you, your legs broke into a sprint after him. You gripped the sleeve of his blazer in your empty hand. “Ruggie!” You shouted his name, almost dropping the plastic bag on the ground as your eyes’ widened in surprise with yourself. 

Ruggie twisted around and raised the arm you were holding onto, he had a perfect view of your face. You were locked in a staring contest as your lips parted. “I… I don’t want your notes actually.” You swallowed, feeling your heart begin to pick up so much speed it became uncomfortable as it slammed into your ribs. You had to keep talking to him. You can’t mess this up again. “Ruggie…” You whispered his name as your face began to bloom with the bright red color of blood beneath your skin. 

“Can I stay over this weekend? If you aren’t busy?” You asked and swallowed down the lump forming in your throat. Ruggie blinked once, twice, and finally, his round blueish gray eyes fell half lidded. They scanned over your bashful face. He lowered his arm as your fingers kept themselves tight around the fabric. Ruggie’s ears flicked as he leaned in with a soft snicker. He was so close you could feel his breath tickling your lips as his nose bumped into yours. It was as if he was going to kiss you. “I was hopin’ you would ask me that. I’ll clean up my room. Of course, if I’m not busy.” He snickered again as you felt a weight lift off of your shoulders as a smile crept onto your face. “So, can I see you tomorrow night?” You asked, sounding hopeful as you released his blazer from your iron grip. Your fingers were sore from how tightly you had been holding the fabric. Your gazes locked as Ruggie pressed his forehead against yours. You wanted him to kiss you.

“Sure, but don’t you mean tonight?”

Tagged Accounts: @ruggiethethuggie

[layton-heritage-posts]

Alright everyone listen up, I’m gonna talk about my participation in the Sexyman tournament and also reveal the first and probably last Heritagesona to ever see the light of the sun.

First up, I love to see you guys get creative with all this like you did with the other two Sexyman tournaments. Be it Propaganda-Posters, Art, posts, whatever. Those were already the highlight of the og True Sexyman contest, so I hope to see them make a return. Especially if they are propaganda for me.

But, and this should really be clear, please don’t get weird with it. You can make as many jokes on my account as you want but I really don’t want to wake up one day and see me drawn in a… let’s say unfortunate way. I don’t think any of you would actually go that far, but I still wanted to make it clear. The other rp blogs pose as fictional characters, but don’t forget you’re dealing with a real person this time.

Now, let’s talk about something more interesting. After seeing the drawing of me in the jojo pose walking towards the greggs (which is an amazing piece of art, definitely check out the artist @lordchairesq) I realized that none of you know what I look like, which is normally great in tearms of Internet anonymity, but might become a problem when it comes to propaganda posts.

Sooooo, may I introduce you to:

Sexymanified Me.

Alright, let’s go through this.

First thing you probably noticed was the monitor strapped to my head. I had a bunch of ideas for how to hide my face, but none of them really worked out the way I wanted to, so I settled for this.

Fortunately for me, I have the natural twink body type. We’re talking rivaling Clive Dove levels of Twinkness. That’s a pretty good pre-condition for a Sexyman tourney.

Also yes, due to popular demand I did add cat ears. Kinda.

Moving further down, I also got headphones. ADHD sucks, but at least I have these things to send sound waves strong enough to break metal down my eardrum to drown anything around me out. The ones I always wear are wired ones, but because the cord I tried to draw looked incredible shitty I decided to just act like they are Bluetooth ones.

And now we come to the most important part of my character design. Admittedly, I have no idea what they are called in English, but it’s a pretty thin jacket that works kinda like a hoodie. I own 5 of these things, but only one has an ace flag sown onto the shoulder. That’s right, this Sexyman is unfuckable.

I don’t actually own the T-Shirt that I wear here. I don’t even have a shirt in this color. But I needed some more connections to this blog.

What you can’t see here is that I also have an ace ring. It’s nothing special, just a simple black ring.

Lastly I also have some boots that I love to wear. They are only meant for winter/fall, but I always wear them into spring as far as I can. If you think you recognize them no you don’t.

And that was everything! Obviously, if you want to, you guys are free to change some things about the design if you want (for example me in the news reporter outfit) or throw in a reference to something that happened on here or whatever.

I'll even throw in a png version so you can put me in situations.

Also one with an empty screen.

[thyramalie]

hi! do you happen to know why queen frederica gets such bad rep? is it justified at all?

Hii! Thank you for your question and apologies for taking a while to respond.

It is fascinating how even after 40+ years after her death she, 'Queen Horror' as some call her, continues to be a thorn in the side of many anti-monarchists and others (especially current-day Greek journalists).

She was intelligent, intellectually curious (one of her main interests was nuclear physics), opinionated (perhaps too opinionated for her own good and position), and iron-willed. The two main reasons for her bad reputation are undoubtedly meddling into politics, as well as her inability to remain reserved about her political viewpoints (unsurprisingly, she was staunchly anti-communist). The second one is her ancestry — her being the last Kaiser's granddaughter was often used by left-wing politicians as propaganda against her, and the fact that as a young girl she had been part of the Bund Deutscher Mädel (League of German Girls), a branch of the Hitler Youth group for young women. Her supporters argued that it was impossible to not be part of the organisation in Nazi Germany at the time.

With so much said about her, I decided to read her autobiography A Measure of Understanding to get to know her better, and it did not disappoint. Politics and conventions aside, I discovered a dutiful Queen, a loving wife, and a devoted mother. Here are a few excerpts, some of them referring to the points mentioned above:

I cannot for the life of me find this particular one, but it's about her saying that she feels and is Greek when somebody reproachfully alluded to her German ancestry. I'll add it here once it's found. There is, however, another one that conveys a similar idea:

"Sitting in the beautiful garden in Alexandria, surrounded by many-coloured bougainvilleas, I mused upon our past experiences. We had lost so much, our home and family life. We had lost Greece, the country I had learned to love not only with my heart but with my whole being. Now it was occupied, and suffered under the people among whom I was born. I could not understand why all this had to happen. Why did Germany stab us in the back when our people had fought so heroically against one enemy already? It was so unjust that it broke every emotional link I had with the land of my childhood. It freed me to love and to serve Greece and the Greek people to a point of identification with them."

2. About her being part of the Bund Deutscher Mädel.

"One day two women in uniform were shown into my parents' room and I was asked to leave. It had become the law that all children must join the Nazi Youth Movement and the women had called to remind my parents of this duty. From that day on, once a week, I had to wear a uniform which consisted of a white shirt, black scarf and black skirt. Dressed in this fashion I would walk down the hill into the village and join a group of girls in some empty schoolroom. I did not like wearing uniform and have never liked it since, but I looked upon it as something that brought me, at last, into contact with other children. We used to knit and sing. [...] An older girl would usually lecture on some national subject but I do not believe that any of us ever listened; we were much too busy gossiping with each other. My father was not sympathetic to the Nazi movement but he could not discuss it openly. We had a very big staff and many were in it - some fanatic, some not fanatic - but you had to be careful what you said around the house. After a couple of weeks in the Youth Movement I had a long private talk with my father. He explained what all this uniform business really meant and we both decided that it would be better for me not to have anything more to do with it. As long as I was in Germany this would have been impossible, according to the law, so I was sent to England."

3. Her welfare work (there are many stories, I can’t write all of them 😅).

"Early one morning I left in Thomas's car. Thomas was my husband's personal help. I sat on the floor so as not to be spotted by our police who would then have followed me. I wanted to see for myself, unrecognised, how the poorest of the poor have to live. [...] I found one family actually living under an umbrella. The squalor and misery were great. They were a legacy of the Asia Minor tragedy, when a million Greek refugees had to leave Turkey and settled around Athens and Piraeus. Even there I could find the beauty of our people's soul. [...] In one small hovel I found a woman cooking some evil-smelling fish. There was no chair to sit on, no window, just a bed with a few rags on top. The young woman was very friendly. She told me that a fisherman had given her the fish as a present and so her children could have a warm meal. Usually they ate some bread and olives or tomatoes. [...]. I found a blind old man living in a dark cave. The food he ate was given to him by his equally poor neighbours. I asked him if nobody had ever suggested that he go to a home for blind people, where he could be well looked after. 'You see, I do not know anybody who could help me', he said, 'Sometimes I think of appealing to Frederica. She would help me I know, but I do not know how to write to her.' It was strange to be talked about while standing in front of him. I took steps to see that he was helped."

"On the way up I watched a young boy with a hunchback. He tried to keep up with us but could not. The crows pushed him around as everybody tried to get near us and he reached the top long after us, just when we were leaving. I caught a look of despair in his eyes. Too many people were milling about near me, so I could not talk to him, but on the way down I looked back every now and then and I would always meet his eyes while he was falling and stumbling down the hill. I felt there was something he wanted to say to me so I asked Palo [King Paul, her husband] to wait and let him catch up. When he reached us I asked him if there was anything I could do for him. 'Please, take me with you', was all he said. He was in rags, had nowhere to live and moved from house to house to eat and sleep. Dimitraki boarded the destroyer with us, rags and all, and became a member of our official party. He got a tremendous ovation from his villagers as he waved goodbye to them from our ship. Later he returned having learned a trade and now able to look after himself."

4. When Churchill thought he did something by reminding her that Kaiser was her grandfather at Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip's wedding, and I just really love her response.

"At one of my first meetings with Churchill, at the time of Princess Elizabeth's wedding, he said to me accusingly, 'Wasn't the Kaiser your grandfather?' 'It depends on how you look at it,' I answered, 'The Kaiser certainly was my grandfather, but Queen Victoria was my great-great-grand-mother. If you had the Salic Law in England my father would be your King today.'"

5. Due to her strong character and being able to charm (almost) every man, it was believed that she was the one wearing the pants in her and Paul's relationship, not to mention all those silly rumours about her having lovers left and right. I admire their relationship, as it was one of mutual understanding, respect, and naturally one of profound love.

"Palo was very wise and I was always learning from him but he was so modest that people often thought I ran the family. This distressed me but did not bother him. 'People do not have to know everything', he would say. 'I enjoy it this way.'"

The epilogue dedicated to her husband is written so beautifully, it honestly baffles me how anyone can think that that woman was unfaithful.

"Palo is my husband and my love. I cannot see him, but that doesn't matter; he still is my husband and I still love him. [...] We love in each other that which we never see. How can we ever lose each other? The true self is there, as much as before. The loss is theirs who do not know, it is not mine nor his who truly loved the changeless me. He said: 'I carry you in my heart, for ever and ever. We shall always be together. There is no separation, there is just one road. You and I, we know the road.' [...] I sometimes wonder, Sweetheart, if you knew what would happen to me when your battle was won. You were so keen that I should walk with you already, now, the road you saw on the other side. 'Come,' you said, 'come quickly, what are you waiting for?' It still rings in my ears and my soul. [...] Greetings, my Sweet. The dream for you is over. The Light is shining in our hearts. There is no sorrow, no shadow, and no night. Your peace, your joy, your love, help me to stay awake, and keep my eyes upon the glory that Heaven's Grace bestowed upon us."

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Fifteen — A Surface Memory

I sorta froze; this was the history I knew. My life, the bits with Mom? It stopped here, on this page, and yet we had barely made a dent in the photo album. Why was the idea of turning the page so daunting?

Dad wrapped one arm around my shoulder, the other coming into view as it slowly turned the page. 

5k words | 20 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: Continuation on the mentions of loss, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Complications, Surgery, Drugs, Gangs, Terrorism, Mass Casualty. Not like, all at once or deeply described, but definitely mentioned. Imagine if that all happened at once, jfc

I turned the page again, this section surprisingly different; the photos were of Mom and some dude with a blue mohawk, all a bit rough at the edges; like they were old, but well preserved. Mom’s pink hair was still there, but she didn’t look as…edgy, I guess. Plain shirts and simple earrings and stuff. “This is Abbs and her brother,” Dad clarified for me. 

Brent, the first Brent. 

I didn’t know a lot about him at all. I imagine that was intentional, another thing Dad had to hide. “Did you know him?” I asked.

Dad shook his head. “He died before everything, even before your mom was a DUP prisoner.”

“How?” 

Dad suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “I…” he trailed off, biting at his lip. “Gang war bullshit.”

Oh. 

I mean, Dad said Mom had a history with drugs and the Akurans, but were they actually involved with that stuff? Not just victims? “Your mom had a hard start to life,” Dad started gently, as if reading my mind. “Had to…run away when she was a kid, ‘cause her parents were trying to turn her in for being a Conduit. Brent had taken her and ran and they…well, they had to survive somehow, you know?” 

“They were gonna give her to the DUP?” I whispered. 

Dad nodded. “It was worse back then than it is now,” 

And that’s saying something, ‘cause it was still pretty fucking bad. 

But they bought into the propaganda and were actually going to turn Mom in! How could a parent do that to their kid? “Were they gonna turn Brent in too?” I asked.

Dad hummed, confused at my question before realizing what I meant. “Oh, no, Brent wasn’t a Conduit. Just Abbs.” 

I knew there was some genetic explanation to becoming a Conduit; something about both parents needing to have a recessive gene — and even then there was only, like, a 1 in 1,000 chance of a child being a Conduit. The fact that both Brent — my Brent — and I were Conduits was a lucky draw. 

Or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it. 

“So he—“ I faltered, looking down at the picture of Uncle Brent using Mom as an armrest, sat on some kind of retainer wall. “He ran away with her? Or to protect her?” 

Dad shrugged. “Both.”

“Oh, wow,” I whispered. He didn’t look that much older than Mom — he had to only have like, three years on her, max. And if she left as a kid…there was a good chance Brent was one, too. A kid, a normal kid, who threw away a comfortable life for his sister. But…when those Akurans kidnapped me, and I had those three minutes where I thought Brent was the only Conduit out of the two of us…I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same. I was totally willing to, in fact — it’s why that gun was on my temple in the first place. 

I turned the page; this next section time hopped forward, summer on the trees just in front of the house. Mom and Dad were next to an old white truck, the back full of stuff covered with a tarp and strapped down. Next to it was Mom, a shaky shot, sitting reclined in an old leather chair, staring at a TV above the fireplace. “I was really excited to move her in,” Dad said. “Y’know, not just because she’d be there but…it was the first time she really had a home since she was a kid. She deserved something stable.” 

Another page, and another flash forward; Mom’s brown roots were taking over her hair, and she sat on a bench at the patio of the Longhouse, leaned back, arms protectively caressing a decent-sized bump. Another one had Dad sitting beside her and they just…stared off into the Sound. “I managed to get Betty to sneak quite a few pics because—“ he motioned towards the pile of books on his side, “—you saw my mom’s stuff. She’s barely in it. I wanted Abbs to be in pictures more,” 

Well, Dad had quite the foresight, then. 

Next page was something Dad called a gender reveal, something that died off a few years ago. Not that there were many people in the photograph; I could pinpoint like, three of Dad’s friends I already met, some girls I didn’t know. That old lady that gave me pads was there, and one caught Dr. Sims hiding off on the side away from everyone else. They were in the recreational room of the Longhouse, I saw it when I walked by it to go to the bathroom. One of just Mom and Dad, a big group one, a few of them milling. Flipping the page came with the actual reveal, blue confetti everywhere on the wood floor beside Mom and Dad. “You guys really thought I was a boy,” 

Dad laughed. “Like I said, Brent was the only one to ‘show the goods,’ so we had to assume.”

“That had to be a surprise,” I commented, turning the page to a baby shower feature. Everything was blue, including every piece of clothing they got. 

“What?” 

“Me, coming out a girl.” I looked up at him. “Was it weird?” 

Dad chuckled. “Weird? No. A surprise? Oh yeah,” his laughter grew. “Your mom thought they brought back the wrong kid at first,” 

“What?” 

Dad nodded, flipping the page; this one was a selfie of sorts, Dad holding up a peace sign with Mom glowering behind him in a hospital bed, the captioning explaining something about inducing labor. “You’ve gotta remember; she had surgery. It…” the laughter suddenly evaporated. “This went bad. I wasn’t even allowed in when they wheeled her to the operating room. Just got shown you two before they took you to the NICU. She wasn’t awake to see you two come out.” 

That shadow crossed his face again, that dark one when he was reliving something that involved loss. And I hadn’t realized it before, simply ‘cause I never really thought of it; if Mom had an emergency surgery, that meant it was an emergency. Could we have died, all three of us? 

Maybe that’s why this page only had the one picture. 

Dad turned the page again, two porty little potatoes wrapped up in white baby blankets, shoved under some giant warming light. They had tubing in their nose, wires sprouting from their blankets like growths on spuds. “Your mom…you know what a placenta is, right?” I nodded — I took health class. “She had an abruption. It…there was so much blood, and the heartbeat reads on both of you just took a nosedive. There wasn’t even any warning to it — one moment we were watching this zombie show and then she was gone for surgery. I only got a glimpse at you both before they took you to get oxygen.” He breathed shakily, rubbing a hand on his knee in an effort to rid himself of the nervous energy. “But after a few hours in the NICU, they figured you guys were okay,”

“But we did have to be taken care of?” I asked, pointing to the picture.

“For like, four hours. But I got to be there after finding out if your mom was okay,” 

“Ah, made sure Mom knew her other boy wasn’t switched out.” 

He smiled a bit. “Took some convincing but, yeah,” 

There were a couple other snapshots of these little babies, barely distinguishable from each other. Funny, for a few moments, we really did look like twins; fat noses and fat faces and fat. Just fat. Was it normal for babies to look so squished? I was the slightest bit darker, that’s literally all that was different. That and the giant weird red mark on Brent’s forehead. 

I turned the page again, greeted with the familiar face of Mom and Dad holding Brent and I, the same photograph Dad kept on his desk. The other page had some souvenir birth certificates from some hospital called Swedish, that same cursive on the wall in the nursery writing out my and Brent’s full name…with the last name Walker–Rowe. 

“We weren’t always Rowland, were we?” I asked, as if the proof wasn’t right there. 

Dad shook his head. “Your mom and I had a deal: hyphenated last name, and she’d be willing to change it if we ever got married.” 

Rowland was probably a part of the witness protection program thing we had going on. Keep us hidden, safe. I definitely didn’t plan to ask, at least; the shadow was still on his face, and I didn’t want to make him spiral any further. 

 I sorta froze; this was the history I knew. My life, the bits with Mom? It stopped here, on this page, and yet we had barely made a dent in the photo album. Why was the idea of turning the page so daunting?

Dad wrapped one arm around my shoulder, the other coming into view as it slowly turned the page. 

Mom was there, there for the trip home from the hospital and the Akomish Naming Ceremony, something Betty dressed up in full traditional garb for. There to hand one of us in a bundle of blankets over to Dr. Sims, there in the next pic laughing as he reacted to being spit up on. There for the sudden influx of pink clothes that she happily mixed with the masculine blues before forcing my chubby little appendages into them. There rocking Brent to sleep, there feeding me a bottle. Dad was there too, don’t get me wrong; there was a sweet one with him asleep on this very couch, me laid on his chest with some sort of headband-bow around my impossibly small head. But Mom. 

Mom was there. 

We got older, grew out of the awkward doughboy look and into actual, distinguishable babies. Brent started out blonde, surprisingly, and darkened rather quickly over the weeks. He matched Mom’s brown by the time he began pulling up to stand, propped up against furniture. I browned out a bit more from birth, never straying too far from Dad’s side once I started crawling. “You remember S’mores? How she’d always shove herself under our feet when we were walking in the kitchen?” Dad asked, and I nodded. I missed that cat. “You were like that with me when you learned to crawl.” 

My cheeks heated up. “I was a bit needy, wasn’t I?” 

Dad chuckled, “Oh, yeah,”

Once Brent and I got a handle on walking, though, the pictures changed drastically; anything with Brent always seemed to be mid-motion, snapshots of him running around like a miniature tornado while ones of me were more calm yet just as chaotic, on top of a kitchen table or under somewhere that looked impossible to reach. “You weren’t as energetic as Brent, but god you were a Houdini.” Dad laughed, shaking his head. “We had Betty babysit Brent once to just watch you and make sure there wasn’t anything Conduit you were doing to get wherever you wanted.”

I turned the page again, this time to one of me on the fridge. On the fridge, like atop it, standing in that space between the top of the fridge and the ceiling. “You guys had to study me to make sure I wasn’t using random powers?” 

“Yeah. Turns out you’re just smart and don’t stop until you get what you want. Like the toy I put on the fridge to stop you and Brent fighting. You used the kitchen cabinets as stairs.” 

Ah, that’s what that weird thing in my hand was.

Next set was of a birthday party, just Betty in attendance with Mom and Dad, stock little safari animals decorating the living room. The Christmas tree was still up, paper streamers wrapped around the branches in place of ornaments and with presents under it wrapped in paper that screamed HAPPY BIRTHDAY in bold. “Is this where the birthday tree came from?” I asked. We always kept our Christmas tree up till January 18th, the bottom of the tree holding bigger presents while the branches would hold smaller things like paint brushes or video game cases or gift cards. It was one of my favorite traditions.

“We were just lazy,” Dad shrugged. “You try finding time to put up Christmas stuff when you’ve got Brent learning how to open the front door and you trying to pull everything out of the kitchen cabinets to hide in them.”

Yeah we were definitely why he was graying fast at 44. 

“But yes, your Mom and I talked about doing it after getting you two to bed that night,” Dad added. “I wanted…it didn’t hurt to keep the idea after we moved to Portland, you know?” 

I nodded. A snippet of Mom in our life wasn’t something I was upset to have around. 

The next pages were of the nursery gutted or tarped, Mom handing Brent a paintbrush while visibly holding me back from trying to eat some paint out of a bucket. Nice. Glad that’s a memory now. The wall was tarped too save for a cut out square, the elephant’s canvas in it. “So you made it before we were born?” I asked, Dad nodding. I looked back at the pictures, the next one a close up on Mom. 

The smile began to slip off my face; Mom, she…she didn’t look the same. I mean yeah it looked like Mom but I hadn’t noticed her skin was a bit gray, cheeks seeming to become sullen. She looked sick. There was life in her eyes that didn’t match her body, but she just didn’t look right. 

This had to be what Dad was talking about. Whatever our birth did to her was starting to become obvious.

I flipped the pages, ignoring a lot of what we were doing more so to track how Mom declined; her arms got a bit skinnier, her collarbones more pronounced. There were less pictures of her in action with us and more of her sitting or laying down. There were quite a few pics of her with little wrappings on her elbows, the after effects of a blood draw or something. She…she looked like she was on borrowed time. If the Akurans never got to her, would she have lived anyways? She didn’t even have the energy to keep up with the dye in her hair, the brown roots coming back with a vengeance. She took to wearing baggier tees as summer returned and I wondered if that was to hide that she lost weight. S’mores was suddenly there, a Burmese kitten that looked like a toasted marshmallow, Mom holding her as if she’d melt away in her hands. “S’mores was Mom’s cat?” 

Dad nodded. “I got S’mores for her as a late birthday gift. You guys were not nice to her—“ he pointed to a picture of me with my hand on her head in a bad pet, S’mores glowering but otherwise unmoving, “—but she was a great cat. Let you do almost anything to her, and would only swipe if you pushed too far.” 

“She never used her claws,” I commented, remembering all the feverish little rapid patpatpatpatpat smacks she’d hit me with when I tried shoving her in doll clothes. She’d smack me, run to Dad yowling, and I’d get in trouble — but she never hurt me. I never even heard her hiss till her cancer got bad when we were 13. 

Dad was torn up when S’mores died, and now I got why; it was another piece of Mom, ripped away. 

There were Fourth of July pictures featuring only Dad and Betty, Mom missing from the festivities at the Longhouse. Betty playing with me, Dad holding Brent’s hand more to keep him in place than anything as they walked the shore of the Sound — but no Mom. Mom was on the next page, wrapped up in bed with Brent and Me under her arms, all three of us having some sort of movie night where she managed to placate us two into stillness. There was a little bit more color in her face, but it could have also been from the blush she gave the camera, caught by Dad. One beside it was Brent and I now fully active on the bed, chasing around a pink light that overexposed our faces on camera — but it didn’t erase the joy. Not at all. 

Next page was a cute family one, Mom and Dad wrangling Brent and I down respectively, posed on the front steps of the Longhouse. Another one of Betty losing her grip on us, but nonetheless laughing, reaching out to try to snatch Brent back up before he could run too far as I was slung over her shoulder, looking back at the camera and laughing. 

There weren’t any other pictures on the opposite side, nor the rest of the book as I flipped through. The memories stopped there on the Longhouse stairs. “That’s the day I proposed to your mom,” Dad said sadly. “Betty wanted a picture when we came back in celebration.” 

And a week later, Mom would be dead. 

I sniffed, trying to push back the tears. I had so many emotions flowing through me, all touched with a twinge of sadness. Mom was here. On this couch, in this house, at some point — and I had proof. I could sprint outside right now and scream to the heavens that I had a Mom, that she loved me and I had proof! It was right here in this old album, which I subconsciously brought closer to my chest as I closed it, breathing shakily. 

Dad’s arm on my shoulder tightened a bit in a side hug, drawing me closer into his side. “You okay?” He asked gently. 

I nodded rather feverishly, sniffing again. “Yeah, I…” I gripped the book tighter, like if I squeezed it hard enough it’d hug back. “She knew us.” I whispered. 

“Hm?” 

I tried to raise my voice higher, but couldn’t. I may as well have been vapor, the way it suddenly vanished. Everything welled up in my chest, trying to shove its way out. 

Dad’s hand rubbed against my arm softly, and he breathed deeply before saying, “She loved you. Both of you, and it’s been hard keeping these memories from you two because you deserve to know how much she loved you.”

Tears began escaping without my consent. God, I didn’t think I could cry anymore today. Dad’s other arm came around to grab me fully and I couldn’t hold back anymore, pain and joy and sadness all flooding out on choked sobs as I cried. I even felt Dad’s breathing shake, his nose sniff — he joined at some point, but never stopped consoling me. Didn’t worry about anything but how I was doing, keeping a hold on me even as I pulled out of the hug, throat raw. 

He let the silence hang as I composed myself, trying to steady my breathing and get those embarrassing hiccups to stop. I let the book rest on my lap again, freeing my hands so I could pull the sleeves of my shirt over them and wipe my face dry. Weird, you’d think the powers would deal with them. 

Dad’s thumb was rubbing a gentle pattern into my bicep, and I tried to force my breathing to match the rhythm of his movements somehow. “She was really happy you were a girl, by the way. After the whole scare that you got swapped out and stuff, she actually was so happy she cried. Something about not being surrounded by testosterone,” 

I snorted, the sound gross because of my congestion. Yeah, sometimes it sucked being in a house full of boys, I probably would have been relieved too. 

“Brent needs to see this,” I eventually said, my voice a harsh croak that required me to cough to even it back out. 

“He will,” Dad promised. “I’ll show him tomorrow at some point.” Dad then sighed hard, giving me a slight bit of room as he went from squeezing into me to leaned back on the couch. “How was he?” 

I shrugged. “He…upset. I missed whatever fit he threw, but that construction site is completely unusable now.” 

Dad blinked, looking down at me. “Really?” 

I explained what I saw, how absolutely destroyed the site and surrounding trees were — but Dad didn’t look surprised. In fact he hummed, as if it was a curious outcome. “I’ll have to talk to him about it. I think I might know what happened,” 

“Tommy just—“ I sputtered a moment, trying to find the words. “How could he? Not exactly being pro-Conduit is one thing but he sold you out! After everything!” 

Dad stared into the fire, which really needed a stoke, thinking. “You know, when we left here and I became Damion and everything, I sort of thought that…maybe it was a good thing. I was scared of what being Abigail Walker and Delsin Rowe’s kids was going to do to you two. Not even the death threats or the stalking or the harassment but…stuff like this, with Tommy. Especially when I thought you two were normal, I felt like I made the right move. That maybe we should have done it earlier.” 

What would that have done? Tommy would still be prejudiced, we’d still be Conduits, Dad would still be Delsin Rowe. Mom probably would have died from whatever made her sick. “We shouldn’t have to hide,” I huffed. “It’s not fair! I mean, why is it so wrong that we’re Conduits? You know how much good we could do?” 

“People are scared of what they don’t understand,” Dad said sadly. “And with Empire City and the Plague and Augustine’s stunts — they have reason to be scared. They’re worried they can’t protect themselves.” 

“They don’t need to protect themselves! It’s not like we’re hunting them for sport.” I scoffed. “And even if something happens, I mean — doesn’t it feel safer to have a Conduit help?” 

Dad was giving me a weird look, like he was analyzing all I left unsaid. Probably to chastise me for the curse words I was keeping out. “Jeanie, I want you to think back to when those Akurans had you. You couldn’t do a thing to safely get out of that situation, right?” 

I nodded, the idea of that day enough to cause knots in my stomach. Even after it all, the only reason I got away from his gun was because I turned to water in his arms. If I wasn’t a Conduit, or if I didn’t form powers then…would I even be alive? 

“That fear is what everyone has about Conduits. Guns and stuff can only do so much. If someone shoots at us, we can dodge or block it — and we heal fast. What’s to stop us from killing them?” 

Not much. 

“But we aren’t killers, Dad! You’re not, me and Brent aren’t, and none of those Conduits in COLE were either.” 

Dad’s soft smile he gave me was weird, sort of like he…felt sorry for me? “There’s a lot more to this than you know, Jean. It’s not always that easy.” 

Then fucking make it easy, Dad! I’m not a child anymore, I’m 99% adult and you can tell me what you really think instead of hiding behind the ‘you’ll understand when you’re older’ excuse. 

That’s what I wanted to say. Instead I sort of huffed under my breath and looked at the fire, grabbing the poker to stab at it a bit. 

A few embers shot out from my poking, and I watched them flitter down to the cold tile that lined the edge of the fireplace, dying midair before they could even hit the ground. My mind wasn’t on the argument I wanted to start with Dad at all anymore, but the absolute tragedy that happened earlier. “Dad?” He hummed. “Did…is it still at nineteen?” 

His hand came up from its lax position, running over his face. “Yeah. Didn’t go up, but there’s a couple people in critical condition,” 

So it could change. 

“So…how many of them did you know?” 

Dad’s eyes didn’t leave the fire, the flames haunting him as if he watched COLE explode in person. “All of them.” 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. 19 acquaintances or friends gone, snuffed out like those embers. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right. 

“There’s a vigil tomorrow,” Dad said. “Got an email about it. They’ve kept me on the email chains just in case I…” he shook his head as if resetting the thought, trying again with, “I hope they stay safe about it. Another big gathering isn’t the best idea.” 

The thought came to me, and left my tongue just as quickly: “You should be there.” 

Dad turned to look at me like I just ate ash out of the fireplace for a midnight snack. “What?” 

There was a brief second where I thought about shaking my head and saying ‘never mind’ — but there wasn’t a good enough reason not to. We didn’t have the liberty of reasoning anymore. “You should go. They — the Conduits need a voice right now and I know Dr. Sims is there but it’s—“ I shrugged, finishing lamely with, “It’s not you.” 

“Jeanie, I need to make sure you two stay safe—“

“Dad,” I cut him off, pulling out of his embrace to face him fully. He blinked, surprised by how serious I was being. “I don’t think we can hide anymore. It didn’t work, anyways — they found us. And besides, staying silent right now is admitting it’s the truth. They know you’re Delsin, and they know about me and Brent. There’s video and Tommy is ratting us out anyways so it isn’t like we can just pretend things are okay.” I thought back to that one on one I had with Betty on the patio; maybe she did know what she was talking about. “COLE was just blown up and I don’t — maybe if we did something no one would have died—“

“Jean—“ 

“But we can’t just leave them to fend for themselves! They need you. Not Sims, not some other guy, not the politicians, but the man they credit for freeing them. I don’t think anyone but Delsin Rowe can fix this.” 

Dad shook his head. “I’m not — Jean, this isn’t one of those comics you want to write. I can’t be that guy, I just care about you and your broth—“ 

“But you are.” I stressed, a few seconds away from dropping to my knees in a plea. “You’re that guy to them. I thought you were that guy too: you didn’t have to help them, but you did, and that’s what they care about. That’s why they need you. And I know you care, Dad! You wouldn’t have made COLE if you didn’t.” 

He looked at me for so long I eventually dropped my vision to my hands, chickening out of the staring contest. But it’s the truth: he should be there. For the people he knew, for the ones he helped. Everyone knew Delsin Rowe was alive, and it was too late to shove that fact back into its little box. We did have a choice, and ours was probably more important than any other average Conduit, because I fully believed Dad’s involvement could change the tides. 

“You really think that?” Dad finally asked, just above a whisper. I looked up; he was still staring, the ghosts of a thousand fears and the shadows of a dozen emotions crossing his face. 

“Yeah,” I answered with no hesitation. “I think they need you again.” 

Dad breathed deeply, squinting his eyes shut like the action hurt him. “I don’t want to leave you two alone, but I can’t take you back there right now,”

“We aren’t alone,” I shrugged. “Betty can babysit us so you know we aren’t drinking.” 

“Oh I’m not worried about that,” Dad suddenly chuckled. “You have a super high metabolism now. You’ll need to drink an entire handle to feel a buzz.” 

“What?” 

Dad’s stare tried to be disapproving, but cracked under the amusement. “You could pretend to not be so heartbroken, y’know,” but that pensiveness came back, and Dad went quiet. 

I couldn’t think of anything else to say. What could I say? I couldn’t force him there, and it definitely didn’t look like he was ready to decide what to do. 

So instead I shifted to lean against him again, grabbing the photo album and asking, “Do you remember anything about these pictures? Like, what was going on that day?” 

I didn’t look at Dad, but I could tell he was caught off guard by the sudden change in topic as he said, “Y-yeah, a few of them, why?” 

“Tell me about them?” 

For a moment, Dad tensed, and I was sure he was gonna shrug me off and tell me to just go to bed. But then he shifted, leaned into the couch so I fit more to his chest and opened the album like it was a storybook. “So it’d been…almost two months since I heard from your Mom — there were so many interviews with the FBI and Reggie’s funeral and Curdun Cay that we barely got a moment of peace. Didn’t even really say a proper goodbye to each other. But one day she called and asked if I was still close to Seattle, if I’d meet her at the warehouse where she sorta kicked my ass…” 

I fell asleep there, the rumbles of Dad’s chest becoming a white noise as I listened to him explain a past I was only becoming acquainted with. 

[original-character-championship]

Bracket E Round 1

Poll 23

Esma Sayın (@frutigermetro) vs. Vera F. (@creativeidealist)

301. Esma Sayın [sigh-in, not saying] (@frutigermetro)

she/her

Esma Sayin is a teenage girl with no super-powers (in a world where everyone around her has super-powers) but instead a big hammer and perhaps too much persistence. She’s interning with some other teenagers for a big organisation called Beast Control.

Esma knows how to wield her charm, and she’s good at strategizing on the fly, but she can be quite insensitive and (often willingly, sometimes unwillingly) oblivious outside of her immediate goals. On the outside she is silly, perhaps a bit goofy, on the inside she possesses a deep sadness and regret, and on the inside of that is even more silliness but a different kind. She’s learning to listen to her peers more, and eventually she’ll catch onto the fact that the people she admires aren’t everything. Eventually.

I’ve somehow made her the blorbo of everyone I mention her to. I’ve drawn her on various pen testing pads and on a very graffitied table in my high school once and then also on a whiteboard at a uni’s animation department once as well. I am making an extended propaganda video about her at this very minute (which may be uploaded by the time this is released). Vote for a white girl squirking on the beat. Vote for a girl who may have some issues. Vote Esma.

Esma is a pale, scrawny teenage girl with curly dark brown hair tied into a braid. She has dark brown eyes (sometimes I draw them purple but they're meant to be brown!). Normally she wears a dark cyan set of tracksuit pants and a shirt, boots, and a pale purple jacket with a right sleeve repaired using medium purple, patterned fabric. She has a big hammer and it's pretty epic.

302. Vera F. (@creativeidealist)

She/Her

She's Hot, Fashionable, Artsy, Passionate, and a Nervous wreck of a gal with a love of burning stuff, not to mention she's Pan! You may think she's just some run-of-the-mill Undertale OC, but I assure you she has grown to be so much more than a "Sans but a different color" over the years. I know, There's not a lot to go off off her, But think about it! she's up for interpretation! So what are you waiting for?

[that-was-anticlimactic]

so i went to target with my mom today, and she said that this was her first time coming to target since all the ruckus. i stupidly assumed something happened in the area or like more store construction. but nah she meant the homophobic stuff she said that apparently target partnered with a gay satanist that's trying to force children into being gay??? by making shirts for three year olds that say "i'm queer" on them? (didn't see any pride merch for small children when i looked, btw).

anyways. it just made me realize that. my homophobic mom always brings kids into her stuff. she's not outwardly homophobic, but she's like "kids don't need to be exposed to sex at three years old" and i'm like??? that's literally not what queerness or pride is??? like genuinely i think some of the big homophobic propaganda out there is making it seem like we're trying to force kids to be gay. and that really freaking ticks me off. because any time i have discussions about sexuality with my mom (she does Not know i'm bi & dating a girl-gender neutral), she brings up stuff she's seen on instagram (my God she needs to get off she is being FED propaganda) where conservatives come out here saying that people are forcing homosexuality upon children. and yeah i'm sure some people are, but you never hear stories about parents beating their kids for being straight. or beating their kids for being cis. or kicking them out of the house or family. and it's just so sickening that this is the crap she's being fed. so now it's "gay people are a cult trying to force children into being gay" and that's. UGH. that's not it.

anyways it was kind of just disheartening to come to the realization that the common thread behind her arguments are always about how kids are being impacted by gay people (derogatory). she always backs up with stuff like "well i don't think man and woman relationships should be in children's media either" yet here we are. you can't just ignore the fact that relationships are everywhere. does the kid in a show have parents? well that's a relationship! that's not indoctrinating kids! oh but it is the second it's a gay relationship Got it. it just makes no sense. GOSH.

[escapismnotfound]

Ilya ( @bellehalla )

WEVE GOT PINK ILYA (my version) AND BLOND ILYA (the stories version)

There’s so much I gotta say about this freak so I’ll add it under the “read more”

First off—I couldn’t figure out what color I wanted him so I made more versions of him:

Here is the brown and purple version of him in his coat. Which, fun fact, I made the plume of his coat go downward to mirror Kaeya’s plumes that fly upward. The sliver parts in his coat collar is in honor of Pantalone’s too (how ever you spell his name)

I wasn’t sure what I wanted for the inside of his coat, I knew I wanted a pattern but I wasn’t sure what (given he works for the fatui) but I also didn’t want it to be plain so I settled with stars instead. (Something something, always knowing his way because he can read the stars)

You can’t see it but he does wear gloves and he has a ton of rings on as well. Also not shown is on his right ear he wears a earring as well.

Here’s the man without his coat (outside of fatui work) fair warning idk how to come up with outfits so—

I gave him flower patterned shirts because I love flower patterned shit so he gets it. (This whole outfit is meant to parallel Kaeya so)

I also had him flip his hair to the back to fully show off his outfit. I didn’t render his hair as at the time I wasn’t sure what color I should choose so all of them are just flat colors.

His two made curls are positioned there and the largest because they’re like “devil horns” because Ilya is a evil man 💀 I also gave him beauty marks (or propaganda as I say) because I love them so Ilya gets some.

[riken-leather-co]

Bapzo Propaganda | Day 15 & 16 |

Baptiste was well aware that he was a medic. Which meant that he was expected to care for and watch out for others, himself included. He’d very well seen what could happen if one didn’t tend to certain wounds right away. Infection, removal of a limb, incurable side effects, and most importantly, death. But, he was also aware of exceptions. Exceptions that made it valid to delay the caretaking of a wound. Sometimes there were cases where you just had to slap a shitty bandage on it and send someone on their way. He didn’t like it, but it happened.

This was not one of those cases, and yet he’d done it anyway. Baptiste reasoned that, had it been anyone else, he would not have risked it. But, Baptiste knew his own limits and what he could and could not do. So, in the midst of battle with bullets coming down, he’d done some risky quick stitches and kept fighting. In his defense, he fully intended to fix it when they arrived at base. Everyone was a little bloody, sure, but they all lived. Baptiste was the only one that had gained any truly bad injuries, unbeknownst to the others.

“Good work loves!” Tracer chirped, zipping around and giving everyone a clap on the back.

“Right back at you,” Baptiste said. If anyone noticed the strain in his grin as Tracer jostled him, no one said anything. He fought the urge to cradle his side - pain pulsating through his side rhythmically.

As quickly and carefully as he could without looking suspicious, he split up from the others. It was difficult. He’d made a habit of doing the rounds and ensuring everyone was in tip top shape, cracking a joke here or there as a treat. The jokes fell a little flat today but thankfully no one called him out on it. The second his room door slid shut behind him he rid himself of his gear. Baptiste grimaced at the blood soaking through his side, clenching his eyes shut as a headache began to make itself known. Did Baptiste even take the bullet out before stitching it up? He couldn’t remember. In the end, it didn’t matter. The second he’d taken his shirt off and dabbed up some of the blood, there was a knock on his door.

“A little -” he hissed under his breath. “Busy here! Leave a message!”

“Is everything well, Baptiste?”

Baptiste paused when he heard Hanzo’s voice through the door. Logically, his wound was very much more important. But, Baptiste was a weak man to certain emotions, namely any that Hanzo caused him to feel. Against any better judgment, he slapped a gauze on his wound, pulled on a new shirt, and quickly opened the door.

“What’s up?”

“Are you well?”

“I should be asking you that,” Baptiste said. His chest ached as he eyed Hanzo. There were tell tale signs of dark eye bags and an odd tension in his body. “...Bad dream again?”

“...Yes,” Hanzo reluctantly muttered. Still, it touched Baptiste that Hanzo had gotten to this point to confess it to him. How could he turn him away? “I wished to get some fresh air.”

“Then let’s go.” Baptiste stepped out, door shutting behind him. Hanzo led the way while Baptiste lingered just behind him. The hallway slightly moved around him and he breathed in deeply through his nose, willing the nausea away.

They found themselves on the rooftop, one of Hanzo’s favorite places to hide away. Hanzo grabbed his hand and pulled him down to sit on the ledge beside him. He winced - side pulling painfully at the stitches as he shifted to sit down. Once they were both sat, they watched the horizon and breathed together for a moment. Baptiste’s side had faded into a numb sensation which he knew wasn’t a good sign.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Hanzo shook his head and leaned against Baptiste. “Let’s just lay here. Is that alright?”

“Of course.” Baptiste sighed and soaked in the warmth coming from Hanzo. It wasn’t often they got to sit together like this. There was an ever present headache building up behind his eyes, and his body felt like it was running hotter than usual. Still, he didn’t say anything or bring up his concerns. Too busy basking in the moment. That, and his head was feeling like cotton was stuffed in it.

Still, it was as if an ever present calm was fading over him. The pain fading to an ever present ache in the background. It was easy for his eyelids to slide shut and fade into the black pit. When he awoke next it was to the faint beeping of medical equipment and blinding white lights just behind his eyelids. His body had an ever present ache. It was difficult to open his eyes, lashes fluttering as he squinted against the lights.

“You’re a fool.” Is the first thing Baptiste heard. He winced and slowly looked over. Hanzo was glowering at him, arms crossed.

“...I was going to tend to it,” Baptiste muttered, already figuring out where he was and roughly what had happened.

“You’re lucky an infection didn’t set in, Mercy said.” he snapped. He leaned over and pressed a button - calling Mercy into the room.

“I’m sorry.” Baptiste sighed and quickly surrendered. “I didn’t want to worry you when you were already having a tough time.”

“It would have been worse had you died while I was none the wiser.” Hanzo took a deep breath and let it out quickly. Rather than look angry, he looked more tired. “Do not worry me like that again.”

“Okay.” Baptiste reached out and grabbed Hanzo’s hand, squeezing it as Mercy walked into the room.

“You are in big trouble mister.” Mercy said, lightly smacking her clipboard against his head. “You worried us to death, you know.”

“Yes Yes I’m sorry. What’s the situation doc? Am I dying?”

“No, thankfully enough.” She sniffed and pushed up her glasses. Mercy didn’t mention them holding hands. By the time she left after their check ups, Baptiste was left even more exhausted.

Hanzo watched Baptiste’s eyes droop as he fought to stay awake and squeezed his hand. “Sleep. I will not go anywhere.”

“Mh.” Baptiste was quick to listen, drifting asleep once again.

[heimonas]

I was in the car with my uncle yesterday and you see, he is a metalhead, like he grew up in the 70s and the 80s and he was a big metal and rock fan. he has been to so many concerts, he has a whole wall of tickets and posters etc and he always wears band shirts. anyway, worlds apart by journey comes on the radio and I was quietly vibing and then he says "stranger things huh" and I asked if he saw it (bc the song is in it) and he got a bit emotional bc yes he'd seen it and he felt like Eddie was a very good depiction of what his scene was in the 80s and he was nostalgic of his youth and all. he said "they really got it right. that's what it was like. that's what it felt like. I got chills from the songs."

and you see, I do have stranger things brainrot but if someone asked me I'd say the writing isn't very good. I have a lot of complaints about that and obviously I can't stand the American patriotism in it and the antisoviet propaganda. and you should know, my uncle isn't some apolitical person. I'm pretty sure he picked up on the politics of the show and I wanted to discuss it but seeing him so moved by it, I couldn't bring myself to downgrade the show. and this was a perspective I hadn't seen before. someone feeling nostalgic of their youth and emotional like that over Eddie's character.

I don't know where I'm going with this. I think sometimes it's good to talk to older people and see their point of view and also to take a step back from what you'd like to see and your literary criticism and see how stories are, in a fundamental way, meant to unite us

[best-at-episode]

Round 1 - Side A: Poll 7 of 8

Sky Witch:

Marceline is on a top-secret mission tracking Maja the Sky Witch. But when she loses the witch’s trail, Marceline turns to Princess Bubblegum for help.

High Strangeness:

An otherworldly encounter puts Tree Trunks on the trail of a conspiracy in the Candy Kingdom.

propaganda below the cut

Sky Witch:

of all the bubbline classics (tm) of the show, this episode is one of the best in the series, in showcasing the bittersweet, tenuous relationship these two are starting to forge in the aftermath of what was missing. there is still so much to unpack, in regards of both how they view themselves and each other. however. marceline will still ask bonnie for help. and bonnie will still help marceline regardless, because how could she not? despite everything, they will come back for each other (as varmints will tell us), even if they both are not completely over the hurt they caused each other, hanging bitter throughout the episode, making them lash out. yet, bonnie will give away the shirt marceline literally threw at her at a random concert, before even knowing each other, that she kept for years and treasured so much to wear daily and nightly, just because of how much hambo meant to marceline, just to make her happy; because, how could she not? like.....c'mon. the fact that the shirt itself is hundreds of times more powerful than hambo, like c'mon. vote just for the sheer yuri insanity.

What Was Missing may have invented bubbline, but I wanted to make sure Sky Witch got nominated because this is the moment where it really clicked for me. It felt validating, like the subtext people got from WWM wasn’t just fans looking too hard into things. Something shifted in my brain after this that turned me from an Enjoyer of the show to a super-fan.

[blazehedgehog]

How do you feel about the Sonic Movies including references to memes like Sanic and "do you know the way"?

Memes, in general, are bad. Real, actually good memes have a shelf-life of maybe a couple days, or a week tops. They are meant to be things shared with your closest friends. In-jokes.

There can, sometimes, maybe, rarely be memes that hit the public and "get better," so to speak. When talented people get involve and put a lot of effort in to something. But usually that's because the subject material is pretty "soft," so to speak. Like when people became obsessed with the Aurora Borealis bit in The Simpsons. But that hardly even feels like a "meme" to me, that just feels like a lot of people appreciating a really great sketch and paying tribute to that.

Actual memes are almost always bad after they escape containment. And that's because I find it hard to view meme culture as anything less than a pied piper scenario that leads people in to some genuinely dark places. A worryingly high percentage of memes often attach to some really hurtful and awful ideas at their core. And a lot of ignorant people defend "meme humor" because it makes them laugh and they refuse to confront what it is they're laughing at.

Kids and teens are particularly susceptible to this, because they lack a broad enough worldview to understand some of the connotations of what's being said. And they're the ones often the deepest in this kind of humor.

It's "just a joke, bro." They don't want to take it seriously because they're here to get away from serious topics, so they willfully allow themselves to be weaponized in someone else's cause. Or, at best, it's just ignorance feeding ignorance feeding ignorance, an everlasting echo chamber where one bad actor reverberates for days, weeks, even years. An infection of hurtful propaganda, spreading like a virus.

And every time I've ventured in to the usual spaces where this stuff forms, I can almost count on one hand the length of time it takes to run in to something offendable. And no matter how gently you say "stop punching down and be kind to others", you get blasted by people who are furious you would even think about raining on their parade. Even if the parade is a message of exclusion and masked hatred.

That's not even touching on the corporate industry of memes. Entire merchandising farms designed to devour internet content and sell you sweat shop t-shirts full of other people's stolen humor because some ghouls still believe that nothing on the internet has ownership. Creators don't deserve to be paid for their good ideas, it's all about whoever gets to the gold rush first, even if it means stepping over a few bodies to get there.

The negatives far out weigh a few chuckles you may get before catching the school bus. As a general rule, I try to avoid memes and meme humor, and I don't like it when corporations try to pretend that they can be "in on the joke."

It's bad news all the way down.

[demonichikikomori]

it is once again mandatory Ruggie Bucchi Propaganda Hour and today i am here to say i cant imagine how fun it would be to watch ruggie in a magift game!! i love the way he hangs off his broom? his skill and creativity and not to mention physical ability to be able to confidently do nonsense like that midair??? pls showboat for me ruggie bucchi i will give you kisses even if you're all sweaty

Come On!

Ruggie Bucchi x GN!Reader

Word Count Tumblr: 1k+

Art here on Pixiv!

Thank you for this concept because I think he would be so excited to bring you along. He's very acrobatic in the game material. During fights his sprite is seen doing little flips when he casts a spell. He's just too much!!! <3

SUMMARY:

Ruggie invites you to his MagiShift game. Because he wants you to be there.

Tags: Fluff

You looked at the ticket placed in your hands with wide eyes. It was for the upcoming Magical Shift game between Savanaclaw and a dorm from a neighboring school. These tickets were impossible to get unless A) You were on the team. Or B) You had money growing on a tree. Your eyes made it back to the Hyena who handed it to you with a face full of shock. He kicked his foot, appearing shy as he pointed to the ticket with folded ears and a small smile. “I want you to come. Everyone on the team gets a ticket for a plus one. I usually just sell mine but,” He paused as large bluish-grey eyes blinked at you, filled with hope that you would accept his offer. “I now have someone to come see me play.” He gave a small shrug before crossing his arms behind his head. “So, you wanna come?”

You couldn’t help but feel honored. Even though you and Ruggie had become so close, you didn’t expect such a gift from him. In fact, you didn’t expect anything but his time. “So… How much is it?” You asked jokingly and Ruggie frowned, gently punching you in the arm. “Hey, I want you to just come see me. I don’t want you to buy the ticket I’m giving you.” He sighed and you felt your heart begin to flutter in your chest. He’s inviting you because he wants to. Of course you would go as his plus one.

Seeing the tournament from the very stone barrier separating you safely from the field below was exciting enough on it’s own. You were watching with wide eyes as Ruggie bounced onto the field as Leona walked alongside him, Epel in tow. The large round eyes spotted you in the front instantly and you were given a cheerful smile. The hyena waved to you, and you shyly waved back from your seat as you pulled up your camera to grab a candid photo. You caught Ruggie winking at you and your cheeks grew warm. You hoped for something more off guard, but this was just as cute. You weren’t fully understanding of the sport just yet, but you knew what it meant when Ruggie scored a goal and was picked up by another teammate on a broom. You took every chance to capture a photo and cheer for him, screaming along with the crowd with a giant smile on your face. You only watched the hyena running across the field when he would end up flung off of his broom, smacking into the dirt only to scramble back to his feet. How he would take off on his broom hanging on with one skinny, yet strong arm while pointing his pen at other players. At times he would flying upside down as he flung the heavy looking disc in a teammates direction for them to catch it while being chased after opponents twice his size. Seeing him do such dangerous stunts for the game was so shocking, does he always do this?! Every game?! 

You weren’t sure if your heart could take it.

Half time rolled around and Savanaclaw was in the lead. You waved to Ruggie who took the moment to chat with Leona, tugging at his shirt collar as Leona nodded in your direction. And his headed lolled towards you above.

Nothing could have saved you from surprise as he took a running start from the field. He jumped and began climbing the barrier between the stadium and field, planting his feet against the thick stone as he held onto the thick plateau before you. His face was red and sweat beaded at his forehead as he smiled wide. “You saw all my moves right? Wasn’t I cool?” He asked as you nodded in shock that he made his way up the wall just to speak with you. He smelled of grass and sweat, a hint of blood and you could see his nose had been bleeding. Probably from one of his face plants from being knocked off his broom. His bangs were sticking every-which-way from all of the moving and flying he was doing and you were sure there was a bruise forming on his left cheek. He looked… Rough. “Um, Ruggie-”

“Will you come to the next one if we win?” He asked suddenly as he adjusted himself to hang onto the hot stone of the wall. He wiped away the sweat and dirt from his eyes with the back of his arm as he awaited your answer with perked ears. You stared at him with wide eyes, nodding again slowly with your face starting to turn red. “S-Seriously?” His face exploded with excitement as his cheeks appeared even more flushed than from when he was running across the grassy field just moments ago. “You’ll really come if we win?” He asked a second time and you of course, nodded. “I mean, I need a ticket-”

“Done! I’ll see you next week! The games are at the same time!” He gasped as Leona called for him below, watching Ruggie slip as he called back that he was on his way back down. He was biting back his smile as his ears wiggled. “I’ll win, so make sure your schedule stays clear!” He snickered and vanished back over the barrier to get back to the final half of the game. As he trekked across the field, sweaty, yet full of determination… You told yourself that even if Savanaclaw ended in a loss, you would still come back next week. Just to see Ruggie hanging off of his broom, big eyes searching for you in the crowd, searching and listening for your approval with each goal scored. 

You were excited to greet him on the emptying field after the game ended. You brought him a cold water bottle and a warm donut from the concessions stand as he asked to be pet and praised for the win he helped his team earn. You suggested in the meantime before the next game, he could show you some of those broom tricks he did. You didn’t exactly need a ticket to see him during school. And if he was more careful, you wouldn’t have to see him nose dive into the dirt again. It looked too painful.

You weren’t sure if his face was red from the overexertion, or he was flustered knowing you wanted to see him more. Either way, you snapped a picture of the two of you huddled together. You were excited for next weeks game.