#the propaganda is really strong huh

[lostlegendaerie]

Rin Matsuoka: separated childhood friend/rival/secondary protagonist of the swimming anime Free! who (after recovering from his villain arc caused primarily by his own internalized perfectionism due to the early death of his father) canonically loves romantic things like cherry blossoms, cries easily, and motivates the protagonist to pursue his professional career.

Miles Edgeworth: separated childhood friend/rival/supporting character in Ace Attorney who (after recovering from his villain arc after recovering from his villain arc caused primarily by his own internalized perfectionism due to the early death of his father) says stuff like "you have burdened me with unnecessary feelings," temporarily fakes his death to escape his emotions, and motivates the protagonist to pursue his professional career hey wait a second

uh

let's try this again

Rin Matsuoka: the ADHD half of an ADHD/Autism red and blue ship

Miles Edgeworth: the Autism half of an ADHD/Autism red and blue ship

[altocat]

Ever Crisis: The First Soldier CHAPTER 5 Recap

Now that Sephiroth has joined the game, expect a lot more rambling/inane bias.

We open back up in the cave. The trio is resting when Sephiroth whistles to them to round them up. Glenn is pissy at the idea of them taking orders from a kid.

We meet up with Seph, where he tells us we'll be cutting through Cawpine Caverns. He said he spotted the Rhadorans there, so he thinks there's probably a base. He's got a mind to go run in there and kill shit.

Glenn keeps calling him a "cyborg", though he said he'll accept Seph's leadership since Seph is a big hero. He also threatens to kick Seph's ass if he whistles for them again. Seph pouts and trails unhappily behind them.

The group walks along a long trail thick with Mako. Seph holds them up and APOLOGIZES about whistling before, saying it was rude. He didn't realize. He admits he hasn't really had many opportunities to actually interact with people. This is his first real field assignment. Sheltered lab rat Seph confirmed??

Seph says him being a hero is a LIE. He said Shinra made him the face of the program and manufactured all of his "achievements". It was all one big recruitment ploy. He doesn't think he's a hero and he doesn't WANT to be one.

Glenn warms to this slightly and tells him now's his chance to prove himself to be a REAL hero. After all, he's freakishly strong in combat.

Seph doesn't want to be a hero. He says he just wants to live a normal life. But he mumbles it so the others can't hear. He said it's "never going to happen anyway". My heart is actually breaking??? OW.

They move to a waterfall. Natural materia has formed here. We have a very familiar Nibelheim-esque callback scene. Matt infodumps some familiar dialogue and Seph practically winks at the camera all "HUH NEAT".

Glenn reveals he got into trouble a lot as a kid, acting out how often he had to apologize for screwing around. Seph...doesn't understand him acting goofy. But it actually makes him laugh a little. AWWWW.

Oh god here we go. Sephiroth very awkwardly shows them a PICTURE of HOLY FUCKING SHIT LUCRECIA IT'S LUCRECIA OMFG. He calls her "Jenova". Seph asks if they've ever met or seen her before. It's a really detailed Remake Trilogy-esque pic of Lucrecia.

He said HOJO gave him the picture, but wouldn't tell him anything about her. That's surprising. Now Seph goes around asking everyone he meets if they've seen her.

Anyway, monster time. I finally get to fight as Seph! Little baby boy is so weak and pathetic compared to my way over-leveled FS trio lmao. His model is also very smol in comparison to them. Runty Seph!!! I'm gonna have to max this boi out.

After the fight, Glenn asks if Seph showed them the photo because he figured they'd die before he got to ask. Seph says no, but giggles about it. Precious angel baby boy.

Seph says that talking to the three of them must be what "having fun" is like. And that he enjoys it. Guys, I'm gonna die. I'm fucking crying. AND LUCIA PATS HIM ON THE HEAD GUYSSSSSS.

They enter the base. Seph tells them they are to eliminate all monsters and Rhadorans. He said this includes kids and old folks, rationalizing for both--SEPH'S also a kid, and the old folks could be veterans. YIKES Seph. He spouts some propaganda about this island belonging to Shinra. The boy is brainwashed.

With that said, they're keeping him pretty balanced so far. He goes between being genuinely sweet and endearing to ruthless war weapon. As he should be. I like morally gray Seph.

I attempt to navigate the base with a severely under-leveled Seph. Thanks, Square. Lots of Rhadorans and filler monsters slain. Many sections have annoying gates you have to unlock.

This caps off with a fucking STEAMPUNK MECH weapon thing. And of course it's a somewhat hard fight so it's grinding time with Seph.

After the fight, Sephiroth runs ahead in pursuit of the Rhadorans. He tells the group they should split up in different directions. When Glenn protests Seph going off by himself, Sephiroth says it's his "cyborg instinct". So he's still sore about that brief bit of bullying. Aww.

While the trio is tangling with the Rhadorans, who shows up but fish-goblin STAMP! He keeps following the trio and tears into the fray.

The whole place starts to fall apart thanks to explosives. Our trio books it, where they find Sephiroth outside, a huge pile of Rhadoran bodies all around him.

Here we go. The emotional climax of the chapter. Sephiroth says they were trying to evacuate everyone who couldn't fight, which Seph evidently took care of. Glenn asks if this violence was necessary and Matt equally says that they could have been used as bargaining chips.

Seph says they have to kill. SURPRISINGLY, Seph managed to get hurt! The so called "kids" Glenn mentioned earlier apparently had some combat training and backstabbed Seph.

Seph says that people make assumptions about himself as well, so he tries extra hard to prove them wrong. He says that his training proved to him that he needs to be strong, smart, and ruthless in battle, a hardened heart. It's kill them before they kill you. Obviously Shinra brainwashing. But also, Sephiroth has obviously seen a LOT of trauma at this point.

To which Glenn steps towards him and gives him The Hug. It's life or death out here. But Sephiroth has nothing to prove. He only needs to show compassion.

Sephiroth sadly shakes his head and is either crying or having something close to a mini-breakdown. To which he whispers the heartbreaking finisher of all finishers: "...I'm not a cyborg."

Glenn gives him another hug while Sephiroth stands there and cries. FuCK. I'm dead. Like, absolutely gutted. Jesus christ.

Sephiroth murmurs "I never wanted to be." A cyborg, obviously. GAME CALM DOWN I CAN'T KEEP CRYING LIKE THIS.

A bit later, the trio and Seph spot the other island in the distance. Glenn says there's someone who lives there who is "kind of like" Sephiroth. There's those parallels.

We cut to a brief scene of Rosen and his dog, lighting the chimney. White smoke. Lucia points out that when all the Rhadorans are gone, it will just be Rosen by himself.

This chapter was agony. Pure, undiluted agony. Almost up there with Zack's death. Almost. It's somewhere in the top 10 FF7 tearjerkers. FUCK.

[anisespice]

It’s always been known as the Dragon’s Keep.

A stone-walled prison guarded by a ferocious, fire-breathing monster with an insatiable appetite for death and destruction, a keeper of all things valuable. Stories were spread far and wide about the greedy creatures, terrorizing lands and snatching princesses right from their homes. In the keep, she will remain trapped in the highest room of its tallest tower, no means of escape for she was now a part of the never-ending collection.

That is until the arrival of her prince, her knight in shining armor, who’d slay the beast with a courageous thrust of his mighty sword, piercing through its heart in exchange for another. She’d be rescued from an eternity of loneliness, riding off into the sunset with her true love—A happily ever after. The End.

Fairytales. Propaganda, more like.

Even when he was just a wee hatchling, IWAIZUMI knew better than to believe the falsities spread by ignorant non-magicals. No matter if they raised their pitch forks and torches till their arms grew numb, he was taught to wear his scales with pride. Dragons weren’t ferocious or greedy, they never stole nor snatched neither gem or damsel.

They were protectors.

Gentle beasts who roamed Mother Earth to bask in her warmth and enjoy the fruits of her labor. Villagers would sought out their caves for refuge against harsh winters as guests, not as hostages. Princess’s fled unwanted betrothals to hide in their tallest tower by their own free will, not stripped from their beds in the dead of night to be doomed to eternal loneliness.

Iwa wasn’t certain how the rumors began, or why. He didn’t care—Their opinions meant little to nothing to the dragon shifter. One thing was for certain, “They’re a sickness. Nothing short of a plague on our kind, and by allowing them to live it would only mean our demise.”

But, his sentiment fell upon deaf ears. Oikawa hummed absentmindedly, too busy messing with his hair using a gold-encrusted spoon as a mirror. No matter if the reptile preached until he was blue in the face, his commander wouldn’t yield even if he were paying attention. The brunette’s tail flicked in annoyance, the strong appendage whipped around to whack the fellow shifter in the back of his head.

“Oucha!” Oikawa cried out, spoon dropping on the table with a loud clatter as he used both hands to rub away the pain in his now throbbing skull. “What was that for?!”

“Have you not heard a single goddamn word I’ve said?!” Iwa bellowed, making the other wince at the volume with his developing headache.

“Can’t really hear much of anything with a concussion, y’know…”

“The younglings returned from scouting, they’ve reported human activity near one of our northern territories. We’re not certain what they’re up to, but it can’t be anything good.”

He practically shoved the scroll into Oikawa’s chest. He grunts at the force, shoots his second-in-command a half-hearted glare before taking a glance at the report. Skimming through it he pursed his lips before looking back at Iwa, wearing an expression that didn’t take long to piss the other shifter off.

Iwa glared. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“What?”

“Just this...this teenie, tiny little thing, no big deal, just couldn’t help but notice-”

“Spit it out, Shitty-kawa.”

Oikawa flipped the scroll around, pointing at a particular section of the report. “[_____]’s been crossed out. Pretty sure she’s a human. Which, according to your logic, would make her dangerous. Right?”

Iwa attempted to remain neutral, but the slight flick in his tail was enough answer for the commander’s suspicions. Not to mention, the pink hue now dusting across his cheeks. “She is the only exception.”

“Uh huh. Seriously, dude, you gotta drop this radical agenda of yours because I’m certain trying to wipe out her whole species would be considered a huge turn off.”

“Shut up, you don’t know what you’re talking about. She understands my goal, we even share the same opinions.”

“Really? Such as?”

“We both agree that humans are selfish creatures fueled by fear and greed. They despise anything they don’t understand, and destroy what they can’t control. That is why they’ve painted us to be the monsters in their stories—Makes their evil deeds feel justified.”

Oikawa nodded, unconvinced. “Fascinating. What else?”

Iwa huffed, arms crossed. “We also agree that without human interference, we’d be able to restore balance in nature. Migrations would go undisturbed, vegetation would thrive due to the forests no longer being stripped of its resources—We would have a fresh start.”

“Mhm. And, does she also share your sentiments on genocide, or were you planning on shoehorning in that part of your goal to her?”

There’s a brief silence. Both dragons merely stared at one another.

“Tsk.” Was Iwa’s only response.

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved.

likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

Am I here to bring some 2008 Brandon propaganda? huh, I am. My younger self would be so disappointed in me. But then writing propaganda for underdogs is fun!

Someone brought up Alan Rickman's voice as being one of the main attractions of his portrayal of Brandon -the same can be said about David Morrissey! Hear him reading a poem, or a short story! His voice was my only inducement to get through the PI Billy Rucker radio dramas, which I wouldn't recommend to the public at large because they deal with really dark subject matter and they do it in a neo-noir style that makes it harder, so... I digress.

As another side note/digression, if I had a nickel for every time colonel Brandon was played by an actor who is mainly known for playing villains, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't much, but it is weird that it happened twice.

And speaking of villain typecast actors in Austen roles, I feel one can say of Morrissey's Brandon the same I say about Mark Strong's Mr Knightley, re: the writing. The sins of Andrew Davies loom as large as his legend.

I think he has great moments when the script allows it -the way he goes through all the inflections and changes of emotion during the reveal of the Eliza backstory to Elinor is really subtle and skilled.

We also get a couple scenes of this Brandon having a special concern for Eliza jr -he goes visit her:

She's clearly a beloved person to him!

And we have this little moment when they arrive at Cleveland, and Mrs Palmer introduces her baby son to them, and we can feel he's thinking of the tragedy of his Elizas.

Yes this was mostly about David Morrissey's voice, but in my defense it is THAT good.

Willoughby (1995) Vs Colonel Brandon (2008)

[ducktracy]

Is Bah, Humduck! any good? Is it worth checking out this Holiday season?

Have a nice day!

HI THERE!! happy holidays to you and yours! IMMEDIATELY PREFACING THIS WIIIITH: you should definitely give it a go, regardless of my opinion! i don’t want to be THE GATEKEEPER OF THE TUNES HAHA so i think if you’re curious enough, regardless of what i have to say, you should give it a go!

BUT, with that said! i actually haven’t seen it in… 3 years??? oh geez! the last time i watched it i wasn’t nearly as edjumacated on the ins-and-outs of LT’s history/xharacters/grasp as a whole, so i’m sure if i were to rewatch it now i’d be like “um actually Daffy wouldn’t say that because in this short released Octember 37th, which started production on a Thoisday in the 24 and 1/2th century, he—“ BUT THAT’S NOT A BAD THING EITHER. that’s just how i am. so you’ve actually piqued my curiosity, and i may try to squeeze in time to watch it again myself and come back with any thoughts i have!

NEVERTHELESS, i recall liking it! i know i’ve seen it more than once! as with any modern post-Blanc LT production i have my qualms with it, but i don’t remember them being super big or anything. it’s arguably both guilty AND resistant of “oooooh da Looney Tunes are all one big happy family 🤗”, but i recall it being moreso the latter and that being a big reason as to why i liked it (such as Yosemite Sam punching Daffy in the arm during a heartfelt moment or Porky’s daughter—voiced by Tara Strong which is also a kind of endearingly sarcastic “lol” moment for me since it’s like… yeah this sure was released in 2006, huh!—basically saying that Daffy is in hell)

it’s a sweet special! “Looney Tunes” and “sweet” are not two things i tend to love put together, but i think in this particular special it felt earned. Daffy’s “””””lore”””””” i think was always a bit amusingly trite to me, but, again, ya gotta have a justification for the special somehow! and i do remember finding the ending genuinely endearing, even in spite of my aversions to playing that stuff totally straight in a LT production.

iirc it does a good job of giving multiple characters screen time—some longer than others, but i did respect that they had some pulls like Beaky Buzzard and i think even Hippety Hopper???? maybe???

i like it because it’s a modern production that gives Porky a spotlight and doesn’t beat down on him the ENTIRE time, and so i really enjoy that it gives a little more dimension/prioritization to the Porky and Daffy dynamic, especially something on a slightly less surface level than what they’d usually been made out to be around that time, both before and after. Porky’s always getting the short end of the stick in some way (which is why i’ve made it my sworn duty to spread my porcine propaganda) and i don’t feel that way about this special. he might even have more screen time than Bugs? i think? so i deeply admire that

I’LL HAVE TO GIVE IT A WATCH BECAUSE NOW I’M CURIOUS! the last time i saw it as i said before, i wasn’t as Matured In My Tastes yet. i’ve especially come around to Joe Alaskey’s Daffy much more since then (thanks Duck Dodgers!), so i’d love to give it a rewatch for that alone. i’m sure there’s more i’d have to nitpick now, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing, because if i’m nitpicking something it means i’m engaged HAHA

LONG ANSWER SHORT: i liked it and i’d say go for it!

i can at least answer with immediacy that it’s certainly better than the ‘70s interpretation they did of A Christmas Carol (which goes against that post-Blanc bias i mentioned)! but, at the same time, that short has this and Bah Humduck doesn’t, soooooooo……

[anarchistettin]

"how dare these deplorables find fault with our constant lying and failure, at this critical time in history"

"mm black people are actually a russian psyop, the rest of these leftists are trust fund kids"

"remember this is literally propaganda by foreign powers to get you to let an evil white man be president, a guy who ignored science and caused lots of people to get attacked"

the dem strategy for dealing with trump seems …off, if 'winning' something is the real goal

but I feel like it's actually just about fundraising, which went super well when trump was in office, so maybe, it's possible, that it isn't the minuscule american left who wants trump in office. maaaaaybe it's not an accident that dems made such a strong show of handling everything repubs couldn't get done: strike breaking, using covid for eugenics, funneling 350+billions into the police, strengthening "homeland security".

Whipping up liberals as a defense against antifascist movements wasn't something repubs were ever going to accomplish. I guess it served them really well to have a biden interim, huh?

[plumsaffron]

Ayoooooo, the Miraculous salt fandom really is a different breed of toxic and hateful. They rly ought to tone it down bc Lila Rossi isn’t coming back. I don’t like Lila either but they just make so much hate content and not just slipping past the filters that it’s baffling.

Everytime I read or look for crossover content, this is exactly how I feel bc I don’t want to see any miraculous characters or even a mere mention in them. I feel like going into a trap filled maze these days.

The Miraculous Plague Fandom is filled with a lot people who have nothing else better to do but be oxymorons. Ignoring or taking a break from Lila is not their strong suit. Lila took two breaks why can't this fandom try that instead of consuming their curse of hatred. You even got that Mariah Chloe voice over being asking what with people hate towards Lila. Then you see a gang of losers (even constructing their comments in a mask to shut down her or anyone's interest in Lila) being static same old scrubs but it figures.

It's amusing to me. There's video saying she's an aimless antagonist with the usual crap that reels in Lila haters usually to wank to or increase their extreme seeethery. But what makes me laugh is observing how aimless this stupid moronculous fandom ironically is. The folly of the aimless miraculous maleficent plaguedom.

They are just a bunch of Ripslingers to Dusty Crophopper (if you're familiar with that movie or the game). Or I can say they want to be brave but will disperse when someone says some messed crap against her without realizing that would affect many things. From hating the writers crap and how things are going to wanting the worst done upon Lila by the writers.

Like HUH. They dislike to loathe the ml&cn writers or characters and spam all this here's what I'll do or rewrites AUs whatever but they would want who they hate to make things worse in a leave fandom inducing way, after this Recreation crap. Loathe writers but wants the show to be better or reboot or be within their standards but wants to stuff in their minds some loathsome crap against Lila. REAL INTELLIGENT, EH?

For a plague filled fandom that thinks they truly know what's up. Well... They ironically found a way to be more dumb or pathetic than characters in the show ever can be. Makes since though because they haven't realized Lila's existence is the true attack upon this miracle plague fandom but they are distracted and fooled themselves so badly that they might not ever see or let go.

Sucks though cause I know around several more characters from other series that get treated just as bad or even worse for bigger dumb reasons (Prosecutor Godot/Diego Armando, Shadow in his own game or the game itself, Princess Elise, Wallflower Blush, Broly The Legendary Super Saiyan, Sasuke Uchiha, his parents, and his clan). Fandoms tend to ignore context and latch onto to manure and bandwagon the propaganda against this character train. Even if you show it was never like that, it's almost always too late. Many are just completely incapable of understanding. They pick what they wish is valid. If it doesn't meet their interest... Well Compromise Doesn't Exist. Conform and boot lick or Resist or Die trying (I think I'm gonna start calling the ladyplague fandom, Leaf Villagers or shinobi drones).

That fiance death thanks to this accursed fandom wasn't even enough to gets these buffoons to chill or rethink or lay in grass. Soon as she faded into memory, the true nature of the ladyplaguedom showed their faces. Instability of handling Lila even made some completely turn their back because they didn't get what they wanted despite they could be better and let go but nope as you know the splurge of salt fics through the years (couple to few years on here, like almost every week searching Lila Rossi and there's like a cluster of salt prompts or salt fic links or memes to mock her. It was annoying.)

Other sites the hatred is strong too (twitter reddit but deviantart specifically where Sunset Shimmer makes her bleed or Kagami and Marinette I think punch her stomach and she's damaged. Reactions to Lila by other characters from other shows or being destroyed or harmed by them. Other forms of vilification or dehumanization). YouTube was slightly less until defenders or neutrals vanished or went inactive (1-5 channels).

It's technically worse here.

Though surfing and tragically find people going out their way to have or prompt rape fics of Lila . Guess what? It's the main heroes Ladybug and Cat Noir doing it. And then November of 2023 some scrum prompted scum to make a story of Lila being violated by Adrien because Lila got Marinette expelled. Then later on the recents feed another days later on lila rossi search. A disgusting ask with the user then replied with the after affects. Crap like this related crap on A03 too (but figures heck some person had Adrien violate Marinette too. What is with people making this ruined destroyed one that? Like why?)

Revelation really solidified why this maggot infested fandom deserves to be derided but let them be distracted by Confrontation and think they achieved something. Lila starts doing cosplay and it destroyed this fandom but really it was just a Cerise on top the Lila cake of Revelation. She can do the same dang thing without being Cerise but stupid viewers want to go too deep into it. So deep that they discovered a new reason to want to hate clown or fear her. So deep that they go out their way thirsting her to be an adult and so deep they can't see why that should not be quenched for.

Stupid humans so bored or absolutely pathetic that they actually found the ultimate way to spit on that woman fan of Lila.

Kind of fascinating.

Hating so much without thinking beyond.

TRUE FLOPS

Idk. Perhaps you go on a blocking everyone spree or tag. Tumblr tagging is weird. it doesn't always like specifically show up with results to what was searched.

Like if you search umm "fugly fandom", results may show that or "fandom" or "beautiful fandom" or some ice cube image and one of the tags say "fugly ice" which cross tags it presence. I guess search tags here kind of works like an "and or" statement.

All I can say is do what you can to avoid or ignore ML it on social media.

[wabbitears]

So uh. @bug-oc semi finals how did we get here.

Currently, the bois are getting swept by the local mad scientist and idk if we can make it this time.But I still got some propaganda for you! Because a while ago I had a funny little idea to give Corduroy in particular some Lore~

So anyways wouldn’t it be fucked up if they had a sister?

(Just a warning this shit gets really angsty under the cut)

This is Coleen! Both being solitary bees, the two siblings didn’t serve a queen. They didn’t have a large colony to support them, it was just him, Corduroy, and the vast Deadlands. The pair’s bond was strong, and thought to be inseparable, that is until the day a storm came, and Corduroy got lost in the winds. For the longest time Coleen thought vi died, and was left to struggle through the wilderness alone. Eventually, she found Bugaria and joined the Explorers’ Association, due to her proficiency in his dual blades, and to have somewhere to live.

Little did he know, on an ordinary exploration in the outskirts near Snakemouth Den, she would find her sibling again

Its them! It’s really them! But oh goodness, what happened to vir. They’re dead, and what is that growing out if them. Her teammate says vir long gone, and to stay away, but Coleen approached them. Its still her sibling, maybe they’re still in there, maybe they sill remember. Do you remember me?

But it isnt them. Corduroy’s dead. They have always been dead, ever since they got blown away towards that wretched cave and was infected. That bee is gone, they’re just a mass of cordyceps desecrating this poor bee’s sibling. They don’t remember her at all, They don’t remember anything. They only know to attack and infect.

So Coleen is left devastated that his long lost sibling can’t recognize her, and Corduroy simply chased him away. Like any other zombee. Thoug after meeting her, they’re left wondering. They recognize that name, the one she called out. Thats the name of the one vir inhabiting, huh. A beloved blue bee who always by her side no matter what

They are Corduroy, they were them, they look like vir. But they can’t remember being them. They don’t know, and it makes Coleen so sad. Shes so sad, why can’t they bee his sibling?

They are that sibling, right?

They aren’t

So anyways vote for them in the funny competition

[roxyteal]

🦈DENIED PROPAGANDA🦈

Still thinking about that tourney result...

Dave had sincerely believed that this would've been more challenging. A blue creature from... Who knows where, or whatever he was, appeared at the very least physically strong. Dave wasn't weak, exactly, but exercising caution toward any of his opponents was key here.

But, to his surprise, it was like nothing hurt him. The one known as Denied was clearly giving his all, and yet... Nothing. Not even a scratch. It was... Strange, to say the least.

And as of right now, the blue man was lying on the ground, probably one hit away from total defeat. Dave didn't even do much to the guy. Had he overestimated his foe?

Feeling something looming above, he looked. And saw... Oh dear lord.

The votes. It clicked for Dave suddenly. Those meant everything; power and skill increases, damage they may sustain, and who was fated to win to begin with.

It explained everything, but the disdain Dave began to feel was palpable.

Dave heard Denied manage to roll onto his back, staring up at it as well. "Ow- fuck, ow... Ugh." He paused. "Oh. Not even a single person's rooting for me, huh..."

The sadness in his voice wrought emotional pain, which was far more effective than anything physical the blue man tried earlier. Dave couldn't do this anymore, and dismissed his weapon. Besides, there was no way his opponent was going to get up anytime soon. All he could muster for a reply was, "Yeah... Seems like it."

"When I went into this, I thought I'd- Shit, ow, oh my God," Denied tried to say, cutting off from the pain he was in, showing in his strained tone, "I thought I'd do better than this. You know? Probably not win, but... At least... Do something. But... Nobody wants that."

Dave had to turn away, in order to keep himself in check, to blink away tears that began to form. He didn't even know him, never met him until just recently, but... God. It was like being forgotten by the world. Completely unfair.

"No one should be that popular." He mused, unsure if Denied heard him.

Hold on. What were the rules again? As if reading his mind, an info box appeared in front of him, stating everything there was to know.

It doesn't mention that contestants can't vote.

Dave glanced back, finding Denied had essentially curled into a ball, no doubt struggling the entire time. Dave... Really wished he'd pulled his punches, what little he'd done anyway. But, realizing that he wasn't being watched, Dave faced forward again, selecting his phone, and found the polls.

He made sure to log off before finally turning back around. He put on an excited voice as he approached, arm extended to show him. "Wait, look! Someone voted for you! Just now! See?"

"WHAT THE FUCK REALLY?!" As if it'd somehow rejuvenated him, Denied yelled, rushing forward faster than Dave could realize it. This resulted in Dave getting clocked by the blue man's arm, knocking him right off his wheelchair, meters away. He'd also dropped his phone in the process.

He lay there, dazed, trying to put together what just happened.

"Oh, oops! You good?!" He heard the other ask, making it apparent that this was an accident. But even then, Dave had also lowered his guard, believing that there was no need for it.

Well... The votes did have to reflect on the outcome. Perhaps Dave should've braced himself.

"Y... Yeah, I'm fine," At last, he replied, sitting up. Oh, it wasn't going to be easy to get back. Or at least, that was what he thought, until he saw Denied carrying his dropped phone, and pushing his wheelchair over to him. "Ah, thank you."

"Of course!" Then, he flopped back down to the ground, as if whatever amount of reserves he had left had run dry. He was groaning, but his mood had improved. "Wow... At least one person out there likes me."

Once in his wheelchair again, Dave gave him a small smile. "Yeah. It just... Took them a while to find you, that's all."

---

This isn't like, canon or anything. I don't know who actually voted for Denied, but I thought it'd be sweet if it went like this.

Also, I don't know if my (and others') propaganda had much effect in the overall state of things now, but he's come so far, look!!!

I am so proud of him. :')

(Feel free to vote here if you haven't yet!!)

[sketching-shark]

i have an idea about a possible impostor plot in lmk

i have an idea that Rumble and Savage would look for Macaque to take revenge on him, mk would get in the way and prevent him from being killed, after meeting mk Rumble and savage develop a hatred and jealousy towards mk

basically because of mk he is loved by everyone

so Rumble and savage kidnapped him and would try to steal mk's identity but rumble and savage don't know what does what mk, be mk

and everyone immediately realizes that they are not mk

because rumble and savage think that what makes mk so loved by everyone is how strong and useful he is to others

basically the opposite of what happened in Journey to the West where only buddha knew who was the impostor and who was the real sun wukong

what do you think

HUH well I guess my first question @maidenofthecloud is how 2 monkey dudes plan to impersonate one (maybe they take turns guarding MK & pretending to be him), but this sounds like a really neat idea to bring a conclusion to both some questions that desperately need to be answered as well as a way to finally convince the monkie kid that everyone loves him for him and not because of how useful he is!

It's been made clear that in legoland Journey to the West is well not much more besides Sun Wukong propaganda/a bunch of falsities to the point where it's not a reliable guide for any character's backstory, and as such there's all these ongoing mysterys such as why did DBK & SWK have their huge battle, what actually happened to the og pilgrims, why specifically did SWK exile himself from the world for 500 years, and of course what actually went down between SWK and Macaque.

With Rumble and Savage being introduced in the tv show with the goal of getting revenge on Macaque and kidnapping/replacing Qi Xiaotian, however, this seems like a great scenario for pretty much all these questions to finally be answered! Because if the "Evil Macaque" lego set is any indication:

then Rumble and Savage were brought into existence specifically to be Macaque's minions, so in an interesting turn of events we could have a scenario where Macaque has to deal with the fact that apparently just like SWK he also has some monkey yaoguai gunning for revenge against him because he used them to get what he wanted before abandoning them. As such, the shadow simian having to explain to team monkie what happened to MK and why in this situation does present a perfect scenario for him and SWK to finally have to hash it out as to what exactly happened between them not only because they'd have to work together to rescue MK and as such would need to trust each other, but also because I can imagine (and tbh would love to see) the prequel to any rescue attempt including the Monkey King verbally lashing out in frustration and shame both from his personal long history of one failure after another to achieve his goals or protect anyone he cares about and also from the long lego show history of so many calling him some version of stupid and terrible while their own failures are more or less shrugged off (see DBK & Macaque & maybe even Li Nezha & Ao Guang if you want to include some of their Investiture of the Gods stories lol). As such this also feels like a great opportunity for SWK to finally give his version of what happened to the og pilgrims and also why he had that instigating battle with DBK--and why he even left his sworn brother trapped for 500 years--as maybe some of the major reasons why he exiled himself in the first place & now basically never attempts to defend himself when the accusations about his terribleness are a go. Tbh even with season 4's memory scroll all of these questions were barely touched on and as such any "resolution" feels more like a band-aid on a festering wound, so having them properly addressed would be nice & let the plot move forward. Also this could perhaps be when the whole existence of the torture headband is brought up & we get a little bit more insight as to why SWK seems pretty resigned to people hating him & thinking for the longest time he had to do everything himself as some sort of penance that's inevitably doomed to fail. Also also this could be a good way for DBK & Macaque to start confronting some of their own less than stellar actions too instead of going straight to dumping all blame on the Monkey King.

Meanwhile back at the ranch (i.e. Rumble & Savage's hideout) a kidnapped MK, who's already struggling with actually being a monkey yaoguai, could be confronted with a really warped version of what his "true" identity means through the twin's own ideas that they were instilled with by Macaque during one of the lowest points of his life (you know, under the Lady Bone Demon's control and defined by his hatred for SWK). For them, their worth as individuals coming from being strong and useful was not only the reason they were created but also something likely validated in their minds by Macaque telling them stories about how that's what is was like for him being the Monkey King's "friend," as well as from their interactions with others being limited to doing what those stronger than them wanted them to do and watching a stronger yaoguai (LBD) torture a weaker yaoguai (Macaque) when he didn't follow her orders to a t. As such, their idea of what it means to be a yaoguai is likely that it is to be involved in a never-ending power struggle where the strong get to do whatever they want to those weaker than them, and the weak just have to shut up and obey if they want to live. Their decision to kidnap/replace Qi Xiaotian would then be not so much about escaping this dynamic as it would be about continuing it but also getting good food, not getting immediately tortured when they mess up, and getting people who at least pretend they love them as part of the deal. As is MK already has a easy-to-please nature and seems to greatly fear that his friends and family will abandon him the second he becomes too much/not useful to them, so this could really in his mind confirm his worst fears about how his life will go.

SO YEAH then imagine the surprise that Rumble, Savage, and Qi Xiaotian would experience from the twin's disguise immediately being seen through because they're acting nothing like the monkie kid & the monkie crew showing themselves to be willing to go through hell or high water to rescue MK not because he's useful but because he's a kind and goofy young (monkey) man that they love. Hell this could also be an amazing possibility to both draw attention to and take off some of the enormous pressure of Qi Xiaotian's back in terms of veering away from these plots where he's constantly being put in the situation of having to keep the universe from exploding by making it absolutely clear that him (& his peers in Long Xiaojiao, Red Son, and in this situation Rumble & Savage tbh) having to take on all that responsibility has been absolute bullshit, that it's absolute bullshit that MK would even think he needs to do that in the first place (like jfc even hyper-murder and hyper-competent og classic SWK never had to prevent the destruction of all reality) & that there's actually a lot of things all the older adult yaoguai and immortals in his life, not just SWK, can do to keep the situation from routinely getting that bad. So if Rumble & Savage's attempts to replace MK with who they think he or is what they think others want him to be could be about the ongoing consequences of the failures of the older generation, then this ending with Qi Xiaotian and the twins, Mei, Red Son, and maybe also the Lady Bone Demon's host being helped by said older generation into a place where they can be happy and live authentically as themselves without having to be strong and useful all the time could be a really neat conclusion to a Monkie Kid arc.

[slate-skylar]

part iii: blaze

tw: fire, burn injury, violence

The visits were precious. Postcards wouldn’t reach Free Eleven, so she didn’t write them. Letters wouldn’t make it back, but that was for the best. The existence of either would be condemning – evidence enough of their misconduct, their seditious sympathies and sentiments. So Slate went, and Cress stayed. And they waited to visit, to share everything they’d felt and seen in the time between. 

It was necessary for Cress to remain; as the rebel encampments advanced and grew, the Capitol’s efforts increased in response. Their reach stretched beyond Eleven’s borders, seeping into all places, all things. Into Cress, commanding her to contribute to their propaganda – to their efforts to appease, to quell and dissuade. She hardly felt human, as of late. Was that to be expected? Victorhood was to relinquish. To never again have control of your body, your time, your breath. Cress felt like a mutt, kept on a tight Capitol leash. 

She wondered if they saw the propaganda in Eleven: the posters of victors endorsing a strong Panem, a controlled Panem. The soundbites and media dripping in newspeak. At least they’d know she was okay. At least Slate would know there was something to return to: her, them, this. A late dinner in Spring, the sun dipping low beneath the horizon, giving way to immaculate twilight. Cress was lost in it. Lingering over the stovetop, she stirred idly, eyes cast out over the saturated sky. “Come look,” she called, reaching back, feeling for him. A gentle summon to draw Slate forth. “Bring the tarragon with you.”

Slate did so, finding the correct spice and bringing it to her as he approached, following her gaze but finding himself generally a bit unimpressed with the sky. It was the Capitol. While it was beautiful, Free Eleven was far more so, and so was Twelve. So was Ten, and Nine, and Eight… everywhere that wasn’t here. But this was where Cress was, and so he kissed her on her cheek, wrapped his arm around her, handing her the small bottle of spice. “Sure, very pretty,” he said. “But I should bring you to Eleven. You need to see it, Cress. Alder’s photos are great but the real thing is incredible.”

“Mm,” she hummed, accepting his kiss, leaning back against his chest as she seasoned generously. An added dash of salt, a pour of white wine – Cress held Slate’s arm around her while she stirred, unwilling to release or be released. Free Eleven had him most of the time. The rebellion was in full swing, sinking its teeth in, luring with the intoxicating poison of liberation, of a world demolished and rebuilt. She wanted that, sure. Not as much as he wanted it, though. Not as much as she wanted him. “That would be nice.” It would take some convincing for her to accept, but only because it would take even more effort to actualize. To get out of the Capitol, to get into Eleven, to not be seen or caught or recognized. It felt unattainable, but she didn’t want to say that. She didn’t like being the thing that kept him returning here, far from the front. 

A wave of nausea rippled as she leaned back against him. Cress closed her eyes, willing it to pass. “Incredible, huh?” She was sure it was. To be near him and their friends again. To have purpose. A reason to fight, or maybe just an excuse. She really only needed permission and to be turned loose. “Alright, I could be swayed.” She fell silent, daydreaming, stirring intermittently to keep the chicken from burning in the pan. In the quiet, she heard a muffled ringing. “Would you grab that for me? I think I left my phone in the other room.”

He watched her cook, a little amazed at all of it and at his luck. Hestia was a good cook and she served meals that were healthy, nutritious, what they all needed – but it was Twelve. There were fewer ingredients, and what was there was of lower quality. The food Cress cooked was all fucking delicious.

“Sure, as long as you authorize me to handle all of your official business for you,” Slate said, swinging away and to the other room, where he picked up Cress’s phone, his movements languid and relaxed. In his absence, Cress poured heavy whipping cream and chicken stock into the mix before stirring, simmering, blowing air on the wooden spoon before bringing it to her lips.

“All this experience assisting Gamemakers and Escorts, managing their affairs… I thought you’d never ask about mine,” she teased, tasting, moving to add more mustard seed to the sauce.

“H’lo?” he answered, bringing it to his ear, expecting Miller or Link or someone like that. Instead, the voice he heard was Lex’s, and it was urgent. His stomach dropped in the usual jealous way – but Lex and Cress’s arrangement was complex, and he didn’t want to be involved in it. “One sec,” he said, bringing the phone to Cress and reaching for the spoon to stir the chicken with while she took the call. “For you.”

“Mm,” she acknowledged, halfway through another taste-test. Cress nodded her thanks, offering up the spoon for a second opinion as they switched places. “More lemon?” With her free hand, she pulled a lemon from a bowl, pointing to the grater by the sink as she relinquished her workspace.

Slate brought the spoon to his lips, certain that he wouldn’t know what needed more lemon or not but glad she at least asked his opinion.

“Hello y–” but the words were still in her throat as Lex started with his own. At first, incoherent. Sharp, and discordant, and rushed. “Lex,” she paused, frowning. “What? Lex, slow do–” Slate paused in his undignified slurp, the spoon still resting against his lips as he looked at her.

And then she understood, the blood draining from her face as she paused. The noise on the phone continued, growing louder, panicked. Slate edged closer, trying to hear, but it was too quiet through the phone. Cress lowered it, Lex still talking even with the phone at her side. It was too much. It wouldn’t help. She ended the call, eyes frightened. Wide. Already pale, Cress had blanched a cold, ghostly white. Slate’s lips formed a W, ready to ask her What happened? But she spoke then, and changed everything:

“Slate,” but the sound of her voice was far away, not quite connected to the racing of her mind. “They’re coming.” Through the window, the world outside was as it had been a moment prior. Quiet, sky painted, scenic as day gave way to night. She knew it wouldn’t be a lot, but it seemed like Lex had bought them some time. “Peacekeepers. They’re on their way.”

“Here?” The question was dumb, and yet, what she’d said altered his reality. The past few months had been spent in a state of bliss, a place where Peacekeepers were dead bodies on the ground, a fantasy even as the Vox lost half their fights. The idea that Peacekeepers could now stand up from those lush fields and, bloodless, pale, cold, march towards this place, this apartment, which smelled of Cress’s cooking — and yes, it needed more lemon — was unthinkable.

And yet it was true. Back to real life. The good guys don’t win. Ever.

His eyes fell to the stove. The burner alight with flame beneath the pan. But did he have to be a good guy?

“We need to burn it.” A thought that had occurred to him before, that in fact it was stupid not to be destroying things as they were made. The place was covered in evidence; if that was what the helmets wanted, that was what they’d fucking find.

“Burn it?” It was less a check of understanding from her and more a failsafe for them both. An ‘Are you sure?’ There was no way to separate out the evidence from the everyday items, the propaganda from their personal effects. It overlapped. It blurred. To destroy one was to destroy the other; they were no longer existing in separate, safe worlds.

“They’ll kill us, Cress,” he said, his eyes wide, grabbing the bottle of cooking oil off the counter and starting toward the closet where they stored most of the equipment that Nano and Cat had procured.

Cress reached for the stovetop, turning the dials up as high as they would go. The gas clicked until flames ignited, reaching out from the metal coils and up, licking and lapping at her palms. Cress pulled the dish towel free, shoving it beneath the burner, setting the first item on fire.

“Be careful!” Slate yelled back at her, seeing the flames jump higher behind him as he pulled a laptop out of the closet, and then a box with notebooks. He paused for a second, opening the lid of the box to peer into it — all of his work. All of his notebooks, from when he’d first come to Hestia’s and she’d bought him one. That first one was probably at the bottom of this box with his angsty poems and angry rants about how Hestia was a fascist.

But there was no time to separate anything. He could picture the Peacekeepers coming already. He dumped oil over the box, the laptop, the tangle of wires, microphones, headphones, the old printer that he’d bought with his first paycheck to print up copies of the zine. Cress watched, silent. What good would it do to exchange words? Platitudes? Apologies? This was what they had to do. Destroy their memories. Destroy the evidence. They were the same thing.

Cress lifted the towel from the stove, scrunching the fabric in her fist to avoid burning herself. She hated fire. She hated too much heat of any kind. It reminded her of the arena, of being held down, of burning beneath the sun’s toxic rays. She blinked, unclenching her jaw. A sharp inhale. Cress had forgotten to breathe. “Put it down,” she crouched, lowering the towel to the box, catching the cooking oil with the towel’s flame. Slate stepped back and it seared, flashing bright, and the box caught quickly. The paper of the journals peeled and singed. The smell of melting plastic began to fill the air, black smoke pouring up from the laptop’s deformed screen. It was working, but not fast enough. Not when they were going piece by piece.

“If we are going to have any chance,” Cress was trembling – from the reality of their situation and her proximity to open flame, “we have to burn it all. The whole place.” The entire apartment. The home they’d created. Everything.

Slate knew that she was right, but how? How were they supposed to burn the whole apartment? “How long do we even have?” he asked, voice frantic. Cress shook her head, pulling out canisters of film and photo negatives: “I don’t know.” Were they already here? Outside? Waiting? Slate held the bottle of cooking oil in his hand, looking around at everything. The furniture he’d acquired, the things Hestia had sent to make his place feel more like home.

But it all had to go. He grabbed the stack of zines, all old issues that he’d been meaning to somehow distribute, from under the couch and doused it in oil, then grabbed the lighter from the coffee table and lit it. The noise scared her, startling Cress into stepping back. But those were useful: those burning stacks of paper. They caught quickly, burned fast. Perfect kindle to help set the rest alight. Cress retreated into the kitchen, snagging the oven mitts from the counter instinctually. Needing the security – something between her and an open flame. She was panicked, crawling in her skin, but more afraid of death than of being scarred again. Interim measures would lessen the risk.

She took the burning zines, using them to start new fires on other things: the curtains she’d hung that first month, the bedding still mussed from their last sleep, the clothes hung in the closet that harbored more evidence behind and beneath. Anything flammable was added to the blaze’s feast, until they were filling patches, shoveling items into existing piles, the apartment becoming opaque with smoke and soot and burning debris. Slate grabbed his phone, then Cress’s, the one Lex had just called, and threw them into the blaze. He heard a faint ringing as he did so, but then the fire alarm started going off and drowned it out. Had he seen the screen as it was engulfed in flames, he’d have seen Nano’s name. Another warning, coming too late.

He could hardly breathe without coughing, and he went over to the window, desperate to open it and get a gasp of fresh air. There was so much more to do, to ruin and destroy, before they could make their escape. He took a breath, but as he did so, it was stolen from his chest. Down below, on the street — Peacekeepers. Their white uniforms, their guns, their boots. They approached the front door of the building.

“They’re here,” he breathed, his eyes wide. “Cress, they’re here!” He turned around, took in the scene. There were still stacks of unburned papers. There was still a box of photos sitting on the shelf. The computer hadn’t yet fully charred.

She froze, arms full of loose paper she’d turned to tinder once the zines ran out. Articles, letters, notes scribbled on the backs of other things. Cress watched her postcards burn, edges curling dark. “Here?” Reflexive, said without thinking. Of course here. Time had run out. She dumped the papers onto a pre-existing fire; one final effort, though many remained. 

“Slate, come on,” she threw the oven mitts down, grabbing him, tugging him away from the kitchen window. Her eyes burned and watered from the ashen soot. “We have to go!” But where? Where could they run to? The Peacekeepers would come through the door. If they went through any of the street-facing windows, they’d be spotted and caught. The curtains of the living room were ablaze, keeping them from going out the side. She was hyperventilating, less from panic (present though it was) and more from inhaling smoke. If they tried to leave, they’d be arrested. If they stayed, they’d burn to death or choke.

“Out the–” she coughed, struggling to weave through the indiscriminate mess they’d created, dodging debris as they stumbled through the inferno, “--the back. The bedroom window.” To the fire escape, which would take them to the back alley, out of view of the main street. It wasn’t a guarantee, but it was their only hope. The flames had grown large enough to lap at the ceiling, and the alarm did little more than add to the noise, the chaos, the changing light patterns that disoriented and confused. Somewhere in the confusion and panic, they’d broken the sprinklers to keep them from activating, if only so they’d have more of a chance for it all to be consumed. This fire would only grow. “Watch out!” A beam of wood cracked, snapping, collapsing down in the center of the living room.

Slate jumped out of the way of the collapsing beam, and his mind went for a moment to the neighbors, to those whose homes might also be destroyed by this — but that thought disappeared quickly, as his neighbors had been nothing but unwelcoming assholes to him, and this was more important than any of that.

He followed Cress to the window, glancing behind him and as he did so, spotting an envelope on the floor, one that somehow had escaped any of the blazes in the room. It had a scrawl that said Thought you’d want these written on it in Alder’s handwriting, and he knew what was inside — photo prints, ones Alder had handed him in Eleven, which Slate had wanted to go through before adding to the rest or passing them along.

There was so much more here. His eyes traveled frantically through the room. Until the entire thing was ablaze, until everything had been destroyed, other people would be implicated in this. He could try to escape with Cress now, but the Peacekeepers would enter and see the envelope with a handwritten note, which they surely had tech to match to Alder’s handwriting. They’d see the photos of Hestia and the kids. They’d see any number of other incriminating things which others could be dragged into. People had entrusted him, and Slate had no idea how or why the Peacekeepers were coming, what they knew and how, but he knew that he’d fucked up somewhere along the line. He couldn’t just leave knowing that there might still be evidence around the apartment.

He looked back to Cress, whose mind was set, opening the window and urging him to follow. He nodded, brain choked for lack of oxygen. Cress was one of the people who had entrusted him. Who had thought he knew what he was doing, had thought he was smart enough to not get caught. He couldn’t let her get caught up in this too.

“You first,” he said, urging her out the window, coming to stand directly behind her. 

“I can’t—.” She was staring at the pane and the sill and all the heated metal between them and freedom. The flames were encroaching, heating the window frame; it had been easier to push through the panic when adrenaline was at its peak, but now she was standing, and staring, and still. The fear of being burned spiked instead. It took over her body, seized it. A trauma vibrant and unhealed.

“You’re okay,” Slate said, seeing her frozen, so unlike her usual certain self now. “It’s okay.” He touched the metal; it was hot, but not too hot. Not so hot it couldn’t be touched, lifted—

And then there was a banging. Slate jumped. Peacekeepers at the door, breaking it down, pushing their way in. Cress lunged forward. She grabbed the window. She forced it up. The metal seared her skin. Burning her again – again – but it mattered little compared to the desire to live.

She screamed, from pain as much as fear. But at least it was open. An out, an exit. Slate looked behind them, fear a live wire in his throat, thinking maybe he should leave, maybe he should do something for himself, be selfish, escape — but he didn’t have that right, did he? Not after taking other people’s lives into his hands.

Cress stumbled through, clamoring out onto the fire escape, choking, remembering suddenly that there was an entire city around them. Cress looked up from where she was knelt. Out here, the smoke rose and cleared. The night sky was purple, dipping dark blue. The skyscrapers glistened, each light a reminder that someone existed and was also experiencing this world for all its horror and its beauty. For a split second, she thought this is the last time I will see this view.

There was a slamming behind her. Cress turned, confused. Slate’s face, through the window, as he reached out and, with an agonized shout as the metal burned his hand, flipped the lock. She drew herself up, mouth slack in horror. What had he done?

“Go!” he screamed, his face full of panic, fear, before he turned around and stooped to the floor, grabbed the envelope.

“Slate?” Cress scrambled, grabbing the window, trying to force it up. It wouldn’t budge. The metal was burning, almost too hot to stand, so she beat against the glass instead. “Slate!”

Bang. The window holding against Cress’ fists. 

Bang. The front door splintering in the other room.

Slate threw the envelope into the nearest blaze, gasping for air, coughing, searching for anything else that they’d missed. Anything that implicated anyone but him. A note from Cat or one of Nano’s burner phones. But there was no more time: the door broke and a Peacekeeper stepped through. Slate looked up, watching them through the blaze, his body going still.

Cress threw her body against the glass, but it wouldn’t shatter. It wouldn’t break. So she dug back into her tugging, trying to push or lift. The metal was searing now, the wall on the other side engulfed in flames, cooking the sill. She screamed. Her fingers burned. Her palms began to bleed.

When Slate was fifteen, he’d been arrested for trying to steal from a Peacekeeper. That arrest had led him to Hestia’s house; to a warm bed and a meal three times a day; to the love of someone good and pure. That in turn had led him to the Tower, to the friends he’d made in the Capitol, the allies. To Cress. A new love that licked the inside of him just as the flames now licked at his skin. There would be burns — inside and out.

He cast a glance behind him, but couldn’t see the window anymore, obscured by smoke. Cress smacked the glass, hopeful, until he turned away. Small snippets, brief flashes — she clung to anything she could see. Slate had betrayed her, begged her to leave, but how could she? She loved him. Cress was willing to choke on her loyalty. 

He felt lightheaded, but not too much to put up one final fight. To surge forward, to slam the bedroom door, whether out of fear or defiance or a bit of both. The Peacekeepers didn’t even have to break through the bedroom door, just open it. One grabbed his left arm and another his right. One of them coughed; it was human after all. He screamed, fought to get free, kicked at their legs — but they dragged him forward, out of the blaze, into the hallway where other residents of the building had gathered, being evacuated by another Peacekeeper. Everyone gawked at him — his charred clothes and skin, covered in soot. He probably looked to them, now, like a boy from Twelve should look.

This arrest would not lead to Hestia’s. It would not lead to a full pantry, a full stomach, a full heart. This arrest was the end of everything. A fall from the sky; his wings burning as the sun came nearer and nearer.

And Cress, who had long grown silent, resigned to helplessness, forced to watch. She cradled her hands against her chest, barely breathing. It was over. It wasn’t safe to stay. They hadn’t talked about where to go, or about what to do when they got there. They hadn’t talked about a lot of things. Would they have another chance? What would happen to him? Killed, or tortured, or merely disappeared – another shining Capitol victory? Cress pushed herself back, away from the window. Nothing left to see. Then she crawled down the fire escape and stumbled into the alley — and without thinking, her body led the way.

[alltingfinns]

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My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Rewatched 01x04 The Phantom Traveller the other night and wow! John Winchester really is the deadest of deadbeat dads, huh?

Making his outgoing message so that it’s clear that:

1) he knows Dean’s current phone number, despite never even once using it to explain to his worried son(s) why he’s gone and/or that he’s okay.

2) that in his view it’s totally okay to just direct emergencies over to Dean for him to handle in his place. No need to check with Dean about it or let him know that’s what he’s doing.

Sam had also been trying to reach John before this episode, but presumably after the pilot, without getting this message. So it was a recent development. (Dean’s number is just months old.) So he had enough time to record it, but none to call his sons.

They have every reason to believe he’s dead or worse, and he can’t just call to say “I’m fine, no need to worry”?

8 notes - Posted March 1, 2022

#4

How Social Media Changes Your Mind

11 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

#3

Castiel: I know. I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're destructive and you're angry and you're broken. You're... you're 'Daddy's Blunt Instrument.' And you think hate and anger, that's... that's what drives you. That's who you are. It's not. And everyone who knows you sees it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know. You know, ever since we met and ever since I pulled you out of Hell, knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam. I cared about Jack. I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean.

Dean: Why does this sound like a goodbye?

Castiel: Because it is. I love you.

The Empty: *slurps up Castiel in a completion of his sacrifice to save Dean*

Dean: …

Dean: …

Dean: I wonder if that means he like-likes me…

13 notes - Posted July 24, 2022

#2

For any that it might concern:

Fictional wealth cannot be hoarded. It’s fictional. A mere plot device so that the characters can have fantastical adventures without also having to worry about bills.

If you can accept 1) superpowers 2) magic and/or 3) impossible levels of skill, then you can accept a character having guilt free wealth to spend on gear, travel, etc.

If you are actually concerned about capitalistic propaganda, there are only two kinds worth thinking about:

1) “I made it square”

2) “Money well spent”

1) is any character that went from nothing to gazillionaire through nothing but hard work and determination. (And the occasional treasure hunt that for some reason isn’t counted as robbery.) Main offender: Scrooge McDuck.

2) may have inherited their money, but at least they’re spending it on charities as well as their fantastical type of do-good. (While still living in mansions and wait how much money are we even talking about here? How can you afford all of this?) Main offender: Bruce Wayne. (Tony Stark is a strong contender, but at least his money isn’t used to litter the streets with batarangs. T’Challa is the wealthiest superhero to my knowledge, but I honestly don’t know how his wealth is used or even how it’s distributed. Is it all tied up in vibranium or is it in more liquid assets? Any businesses that operate outside of Wakanda? Although fictional wealth is never that well defined. Like how does Bruce afford all those wonderful toys without leaking his identity?)

And yet, wealth is its own fiction. Even without fictional romanticism of billionaires, you would have people believing that real life billionaires earned their money. That is one of the foundational lies of capitalism and the free market. That it self regulates distribution of wealth towards “the worthy” and that you too can become “worthy” if you’re just “tougher than the thoughies and smarter than the smarties”.

1) and 2) are myths baked into the system in many ways. Capital generating capital has to be justified, and not just for the capitalists. Businesses get their starting capital only by promising gains for the investors. Big or small. Sucks? Yes. Easily remedied? Nope. There’s no gain in crashing current systems until we have a suitable replacement.

TL;DR: Fictional wealth is a plot device, and not able to affect real life wealth in more or less a fashion than fictional poverty does. Judging characters’ morality on their accumulated wealth makes no sense. In real life there is no extreme wealth without suffering. In fiction you can do anything. Writers are not economists.

22 notes - Posted January 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

“I put a bullet into the forehead of the man I love, don’t talk to me about sacrifice.”

Cool. The guy you’re talking to lived through 14 000 605 possible outcomes, trying to find one where they didn’t lose to the space grape. Presumably each time experiencing terrible death and grief, though it’s not clearly stated.

But it can be gleaned from his earlier sacrifice of locking himself into a time loop with an endless horror heading for Earth. A time loop triggered by his own (violent) death.

He was also given a choice of using his mystic powers to regain the use of his hands, allowing him a return to his old and glamorous life. Or instead learn to live with the constant pain and tremors in order to focus his use of the mystic arts on protecting others. He chose the world and the multiverse over his own comfort.

But sure. You know so much more about sacrifice. 🙄

262 notes - Posted May 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[shingansoul]

1, 5, 12!

So this is such a specific thing, but i used to live in a town called Flushing in Michigan, farming town in the middle of the woods and you could go hours any way before hitting highway or people aside our small little town areas scattered between farm properties. All this said, we were a small little place. In this small little place, we had a public broadcasting channel hosted for my area (I don't know if it was the county or how that worked it was like 16-17 years ago) and it had a huge chunk of the lineup 2-3 days a week that was just japanese tokusatsu with english dubbed over mixed with some having amateur subtitles. It was done by 2 guys who were in the early con scene who lived a town over and would either get imports OR buy off VHS imports with fan translated stuff (which was how a lot of this stuff got over here back in the day). So through this really specific thing in a small window of time, alongside watching power rangers since i was 3 i was also watching all the toho classics up to final wars, i was watching ultraman, i was catching some snippets of showa sentai and some other offshoot tokusatsu from the era too. it was a wild time to be a little farmer boy with a bunny ear tv upstairs.

5. Such a broad question, i'll give my favorites for each franchise i've seen outside kaiju stuff since that's it's own beast.

Super Sentai: Juuru (Kiramager), Yamato (Zyuohger), or Shishi (Gaoranger)

Kamen Rider: Eiji Hino (OOO) or Shouichi Tsugami (Agito)

GARO: Kouga

Power Rangers: Im gonna be real, most the reds in power rangers are the most generic fuckings guys to ever guy so i dont have one? Nick from mystic force was a strong personality though he was fun.

Ultraman: Gai (Orb) or Mirai (Mebius)

12. Weirdest huh....hmmm, a lot of weird or gross monster stuff im pretty used to in non toku media since i love monsters and guro and a lot of non toku kids shows (love me some toy propaganda haha). So i guess the stuff that weirded me out the most personally was just the knda everything going on in Kiva's past timeline. There's a limit to Inoue-isms for me, and he walked over them right out the gate. Not in the way that pisses me off though i was just constantly like "huh???? Okay?? This is happening now i guess??" The obsession with psychic children tokusatsu had from the 70's all the way up into the early heisei era is also a fun one. From Mothra to 1971 kamen rider to kuuga-agito stuff, they were putting those little dudes in everything. Wild stuff.

I for one do not find the comical amount of formal crucifixion in sentai strange, i welcome it frankly. Go full on with it, i kinda wanna see how far we can push it.

[extra-anchovyz]

Ate ...bad watermelon..feel like i shoudlve known better cause it had been in the fridge too long but awful feral impulsitivity took over and I Had to have the watermelon.

Now my bowels feel dangerously independent of me and Alive.

Also i think i finally broke my flight rising curse of doing the familiars bonding and dailies every day for over two months straight

I accidentally caught myself up in a routine i dont care for. Fascinating behavior im studying myself (genuinely cause i wish i could have such strong routine for other things so is there way to replicate this situation huh)

Also i finished gwitch

Im mcscreamihg i enjoyed it a lot. Def agree with my partner that they really anime'ed their way through a lot of heavy important things but also maybe it was cause they were doing a wild twister game of trying to loophole their way through certain media laws in japan. Idk enough to speculate beyond that.

Anyways, loved it a lot

And also enjoyed the mecha designs a lot too

And the mullet propaganda ahahajd honestly good for everyone and all their mullets

It was so funny when my partner was upset about prospera tucking her mullet into her space suit towards end of season 1

[tboybot]

can’t help but notice how many exploitative* disability moms on Instagram are from parts of the country where the mantra is “every child is a blessing” and not “every child is a human with needs.”

the centering of oneself, the narrative of the child’s experience being shown solely though parental eyes, comical edits of kiddos having a hard time, projecting intent onto the child’s actions… not a lot of it feels like raising awareness for the child’s disability. I’m not gonna pretend to know what the deeper intent is, because i can imagine it’s very personal depending on the content creator, but something about it always gives me pause. it wasn’t until recently that I started to go, “huh, there’s a lot of conservative/Christian coding in a lot of these,” in terms of where a lot of these accounts are based out of, and it’s gotten me thinking about why that might be. the performance of women suffering does really well among that crowd, especially when you can invoke a tone of of martyrdom. on the other end of the same spectrum, there’s a right wing rugged individualism performed by the Strong moms.

and these accounts are largely “apolitical.” the most they will do is utilize the world “inclusion,” yet there is no discussion of how many marginalized people are tied to disability rights. Instead, it’s endless Reels of a child’s experience being wholly defined by a comment section and a parent. so much of this is frustrating. I’m frustrated that the Anti-Choice community and Christian Right has pre-determined the language and that people who choose to birth a child with a known disability are supposed to use. I’m frustrated that parental instinct isn’t a magical thing that prevents exploitation. I’m frustrated that people are kept so isolated that this feels like a good option. I’m frustrated by Reels entirely; they all feel like propaganda.

*this is famously the point misunderstander website and I really want to make sure I’m being clear here about what I mean. any discussion with be assumed to have started with good intent. that said! by exploitive disability parents, I know there’s a lot of room and variation between exploitation and genuinely raising awareness to make measurable change. I think a lot of folks straddle the line. I definitely do NOT think that anyone is supposed to be hidden away from society and understand that for some people, this may help them find families to relate to. I just feel personally sensitive to a lot of this as someone whose childhood was meticulously documented on camera, and I have a STRONG discomfort of kids being presented on social media regardless of ability.

[suratan-zir]

I can no longer silently watch the Kremlin bots spread disinformation about Ukraine and Donbas region in particular. It pisses me off.

As many of my long-time followers know, I am not only Ukrainian, but also originally from Donbas. I lived in Donetsk under the occupation of Russian proxies for 8 years and moved to free Ukraine only a few months ago, before Russia attacked us.

Russian bots are trying to sow doubt in the minds of people from all over the world. They are saying that Ukraine subjected to genocide the people of Donbas. This is the official Kremlin's agenda and a pretext for invading Ukraine, DON'T BELIEVE THIS LIE.

The only person who carried out the genocide of Ukrainians (including Donbas people) is Putin. Kremlin bots are saying that this issue is "very complex" and intricate. I'll try to prove to you that this is not true, describing the events from 2014 to 2022 step by step. This is for people who really want to understand what's going on in Ukraine.

This is a VERY LONG post.

In 2014 the Revolution of Dignity took place in Ukraine. People protested against the former president of Ukraine Yanukovych who was the agent of Kremlin, basically Putin's henchman. He bloked the Eurointegration of Ukraine, people were pissed off, because they wanted to move away from the imperialist Russia and get closer to Europe. Yanukovych tried to disperse peaceful at first protest by force, but met a strong resistance. Then Maidan massacre happened, over a hundred of protesters were shot.

Ukrainians rebelled against the crimes of Yanukovych and he had to flee the country. Of course, it was Russia he fled to.

Putin couldn't afford to lose the influence over Ukraine, so he created his sock puppet "republics" (DPR and LPR) on the territory of Donetsk and Luhansk regions of Ukraine. Basically, he invaded parts of Ukraine, starting the hybrid war. He also annexed Crimea and turned it into his military base.

Ukrainian army at that time was pretty much non-existing, extremely vulnerable. Because Yanukovych, being Putin's agent, did all in his power to destroy our military potential. Thus making it really easy for Russia to occupate our land. But still, Putin failed to fully execute his plans. He planned to turn the entire south-east of Ukraine into puppet republics, he got only some parts of the east instead. In the south, the people fought back and were able to defend their land from the separatists sponsored by Russia.

This was the beginning of a long war in eastern Ukraine. Russian propaganda presented the creation of the separatist "DPR and LPR" as the result of the persecution of the Russian-speaking population in Ukraine. In the east and south of Ukraine, the majority of the population indeed speaks Russian as their first language, 'tho everyone in Ukraine can speak and fully understand Ukrainian. But Kremlin's claims of discrimination and persecution of the Russian speakers in Ukraine are all completely false and fabricated. How's that, you ask?

The entire argument about aforementioned "persecution" is built on the basis of the "Language law" that establishes Ukrainian as the state language. Literally, that's it. Ukrainian is the official language in Ukraine, what a shocker, huh? There is absolutely no language regulation of any kind in everyday life. Ukrainians can speak to each other both in Russian and Ukrainian and don't even notice who speaks which language. Actually, many Ukrainians speak in "surzhyk" - mix of Russian and Ukrainian. Russia's accusations are simply ridiculous.

Eventually Russia moves even further from these ridiculous accusations and declares that Ukrainians are fascists because of the completely fake "discrimination" against Russian-speaking and ethnic Russians.

- You know, your regular fascists who VOTED for a JEWISH person, president Zelenskyy (he won with 73%). BTW, Zelenskyy speaks Russian in everyday life, so does half of our parliament.

- The only right-wing party in Ukraine doesn't even come close to 5% of votes, even pro-Russian parties get much more support, even though Ukraine has been at war with Russia for 8 years.

Now let's talk about those separatist "republics". This is how they function:

- Putin's terrorists who occupied my homeland Donbas place their military bases exclusively in residential areas, right among the houses. Terrorists fire from residential streets, so that if Ukrainian side would fire back, these shells will hit residential or public buildings and kill civilians.

- If there are not enough victims for Kremlin's propaganda, terrorists themselves fire on civilians or just stage it, then Russian media such as RT films it and presents as war crimes commited by Ukrainians.

I personally miraculously avoided death at least twice because of Putin's terrorists.

- In 2015 I used to live in the district of Donetsk called Bosse (Боссе). One morning I was woken up by the sound of artilery. I clearly heard the launch and then the landing of the projectile, which meant that the shot was fired from somewhere very close. On a busy morning, mortar projectiles landed on a bus stop, killing 8 civilians and injuring 13. You can find wiki page by googling "Обстріл зупинки «Донгірмаш» у Донецьку" I could've been on that bus stop or in the grocery store in front of it. I was lucky. Occupants at first claimed that it was Ukrainians responsible for the shelling, but quickly figured that positions of Ukrainian army was too far away to reach that place with mortars. They destroyed evidences (filled the funnels so it's impossible for the OSCE to investigate) and fabricated this insanely hilarious version: Ukrainian diversionists on a garbage truck (!) with a mortar inside of it were driving around the city and shooting. Everyone knows what really happened.

- The Volnovakha bus attack. Terrorists from "DPR" fired at a civilian bus heading to Volnovakha. 12 people dead, 18 injured. I was ON THE SAME DAMN YELLOW BUS to Volnovakha only earlier that morning. And I saw with my own eyes what was left of it few days after the event, I will never forget what I saw.

I can't even count how many times terrorists fired heavy artillery right across the street from my house.

And now, Putin says he wants to "free" Russian-speaking people of Ukraine. He wants to bring the same pain and suffering to the whole Ukraine as he already did with my once beatiful Donetsk.

He denies the very existence of the Ukrainian nation, the Ukrainian language, our history. He wants to wipe out all Ukrainians. Putin is the true fascist here.

It's Putin himself who reduces the number of Russian-speaking Ukrainians. I used to speak Russian for my whole life and switched to Ukrainian 5 months ago, because I can no longer speak the language of this fascist. And I am not the only one who made such choice.

Don't believe in Putin's lies and propaganda. Double-check everything you hear and read. Don't spread disinformation.

There is no complexity and grey area in this war. Russia attacked us first in 2014 and now for the second time, in 2022. Simply because we, Ukrainians, dare to exist.