#what once was calm propaganda

[feral-turtles]

Y’all should vote What Once Was Calm

Why?

I WILL RELEASE THE CHAPTER WHERE LEO FINALLY SNAPS IF HE WINS!

FERAL BOI WILL GO CRAZY AS FUCK!

THERE WILL BE CARNAGE!

@tmntaucompetition

[lucatea]

Bitey is not trusting of the bacon. However papa (thyatfyf) donnie is very insistent

Leo eventually gives in

[enthblaze]

hey friends, may i propose that yall vote for these two aus in round 1 part 2 of @tmntaucompetition ?? :]

Where Did The Years Go is an amazing au set in the future of 2012 !!! canon divergence is our friend here and we love to see old man peepaw Lee with his found family !!! (by @iamheretemporarly)

What Once Was Calm is an awesome, funky lil feral 2012 Leo au and it's so good! pls pls pls go check it out!! (by @lucatea)

VOTE FOR THEM PLEASE !! THESE TWO IDIOTS R INCREDIBLE AND THEIR WORKS ARE SO GOOD !!!!

[diejager]

Ok but like what about Wendigo reader? Maybe the team knows she's not exactly human but maybe in her file it just marked n/a and leaves it at that so they just assume that their sweet little medic is just a helpful spirit of some kind. Humans tend to give her a very wide birth since they seem to notice her as something they should leave the fuck alone, the boys just assume it's because of them always being near her and leave it at that. Till they're all on a mission and it all goes to shit, they're pinned down and then one of them ends up taking a bullet and reader just straight up fuckin losses it and next thing they know their is a 10 ft tall fuckin deer monster shredding bitches like their made of PAPER MACHE and EATING THEM, once the dust settles it moves towards them and slowly it shifts into their sweet medic but she is covered in blood and she just casually starts treating their wounds and the team is just like "Well mark me down as scared and horny" (if this makes no sense feel free to ignore)

Stag

Pairing: Monster 141 + Horangi & König x Wendigo!reader

Cw: cannibalism, human eating, greed, blood, canon-typical violence, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 2k (A/N): I felt a bit burnt out so I’m sorry if it’s bad, I reread it just in case, but it still feels bad.

They say that human greed is the source of evil, the all-consuming hunger for more —more than they need. Hunger drives humans to do the unspeakable, to break the line humanity had drawn and commit the taboo. Despite it being carved so deeply into the human psyche, passed down from generation to generation and the propaganda of humanism and equality, it doesn’t take much to make someone tip over, cross the edge nobody dared to and perform the unspeakable. Possession causes needs and needs cause greed.

That’s why people called to him for help, to carry out a clandestine mission to do their dirty work, his duty was to stop whatever men in power started, whatever men in power lost control —he was the one sent when they were scared. Fear was as coercive as power was. That was the reason Task Force 141 was first founded, to stop dangerous men like Hassan (Gaz remembered hearing from Soap that Ghost shot Hassan through the head, straight through him before he slumped down.) and Makarov, a man they were still searching for while signing a liaison contract with KorTac. Price, with Laswell’s help, managed to put the best of the best together: a wraith, a werewolf, a dragon, a harpy, a nagual and a cadejos vessel, all decorated with various medals for their work, and then there was you.

You were a mystery, even to Price who usually had clearance for anyone who joined them. Gaz knew, from a single glance, that you were far from human, you were a monster like Ghost was, turned after an occasion, or a hybrid like him. Surprisingly, Ghost seemed to welcome you warmly, albeit standoffish, having worked with you in the past, seeing that you both preferred working alone. Gaz wanted to show you the same heartwarming welcome as Ghost had, but there was something about you, an uneasiness he felt when he was around you. The others felt it as well, the innate need to keep their distance from you and the instinctual fear that had the hairs on their arms raised. Gaz could feel your eyes whenever you stared at him, like the eyes of a predator stalking its prey —it made him feel perturbed.   

You seemed so human, yet so inhuman-like, your dull, thousand-yard stare, your inability to feel temperature (either cold or warm, you always wore the same clothes), your odd habits and your unusual calmness in every situation. Gaz had caught you staring at a private for much longer than what people considered normal, eyes glazed over and dilated as if you were seeing something else, daydreaming while being aware of your surroundings. Those were your moments, you were usually bubbly, always smiling at him whenever his eyes met yours or treating him with gentleness and always eager to help him. You had a softness to your being despite the eerie feel to you and your unique tendencies, you didn’t discriminate, nor did you show an ounce of hate towards hybrids and humans, treating everyone fairly. 

Although you tried to fit in as best as you could, there were things that Gaz and the others just couldn’t shake off without questioning things. There was the lingering scent of blood on you, a metallic tang that stuck on his tongue after you walked by. König and Soap had confessed that they had a feeling that blood was a part of your scent, unwashable and impossible to hide, it clung to you like a second skin. They chalked it up to you being the Task Force’s medic, having brought people back from the brink of death and stitching men back together, you were practically bathed in the smell of blood and death every day. 

Another thought was that they never saw you in the Mess hall for food, perhaps a cup of tea or a hot mug of coffee to boost you through a long shift in the infirmary as the base’s main medic if you weren’t deployed with them. Gaz never saw you eat, not once had he seen you hold a plate or bowl with substance for yourself. You would bring either of them a plate, caring for them whenever they were under your watch, giving them soup or anything that they could easily digest. 

Gaz, Soap, Rudy and Horangi would chatter about you, throwing speculations on your breed, to see what hybrid or monster fit all your characteristics. You couldn’t be a wraith, your hands weren’t painted with death, a dark miasma that clung to you. You weren’t a werewolf, Soap would know, wolves were able to smell and recognize each other, it was an instinctual aspect of him. You weren’t any shifting hybrid either, there would be signs, little cues if you were one, and your classification wouldn’t be classified, painted over with a red line. 

All they could was wonder and amble around with curiosity dripping from their tongues. Gaz was sure that he’d find out soon enough, whether it was an accident or your choice.

This wasn’t what Gaz meant by eventually, he didn’t mean being set up by Konni, a trap planted for them in the small Belgium town. It was the best set to box them in, a broken and ransacked ghost town that people fled from, walls greyed and cracked, the paint peeling off street lights and rusted metal poles, lost, forgotten and open. There didn’t have any cover, even if they ran and hid behind the crumbling walls, Konni had them surrounded on every end, concealed behind concrete walls and using the shadows to hide from sight. 

It was chaotic, Konni had pushed them into an open area of the town, the centrepiece of it with a dilapidated, Greek fountain, chipped on the sides and green with mould, Gaz would’ve admired the architecture and the beauty it must’ve been in the past when it was still being cared for. They were backed up in a corner, Gaz couldn’t even stretch his wings out with how tightly they were packed together, the uncomfortable pull of his trapezius and the strain in his limbs kept him grounded. The tension was thick, palpable, Gaz could taste it in the air as much as anyone could, their shoulders tense, fingers tapping the trigger of their rifles. All they could do was wait for Konni to act first, to see where they would appear from and work their way out of this open area from there. 

He had his back towards you, he couldn’t see you but he could feel you shake. It might’ve been from the adrenaline pumping through your veins or the nerve of being lied to, of falling into a trap when Ghost had voiced his suspicions about the lack of clearer intel. They were paying for their amateurism. He felt you shudder, breath stuttering, near panting with exhaustion. Gaz wanted to turn to you, words soothing your nerves and twitchy appearance, he acted letting drown in your mind, whatever it was, he hated it. His finger twitched on the trigger, jolting at the sudden crack of bones, an ugly and painful sound that made him wince. It shocked everyone, even the ever so silent and stoic Ghost who had a hard time hearing these cracks coming from you.

Damn this mission; damn the trap; damn this situation, Gaz needed to look at you, to see why your bones were breaking and limbs rattling. Instinctively, his wings shifted to cover you, the ends widening to cover your sides to protect you from whatever pained you, yet you didn’t let out a single squeak, no moan of pain or the grunt of suffering, you were silent. A part of his mind nagged at him to move, he could fly and try to outrun Konni mercenaries to find a way out, but then he’d leave your back open. He cursed lowly, teeth sinking into his lower lip in frustration, he was-

A loud screech thundered through the air, and screams and squelches followed it. You were missing. 

You were shaking just a second ago, body wracked with some unknown ailment and the next, you were missing, your sack, attire, rifle and helmet were scattered on the ground, with a bony creature tearing through Konni ranks. The hair on his neck rose, an uneasy feeling overtaking him as he watched the creature rip men in half, tines stabbing through their torso like a buck fighting another, head lowered and antlers pointed forward. He watched the tall and thin monster move around, its face was one of a deer’s skull, eaten clean of skin and flesh, any muscle or fibre gone with whatever transformation it took. A crown of antler adorned its head, tall and imposing, as pale as its skull, a coat of black fur was wrapped around the neck, draping down the back like a ridge of fur. 

“Fuck,” Gaz hissed, his body moving along the chaos the being created and your disappearance, he aimed his rifle and shot at the Russians who ran out of their hiding, fearful of the monster’s sudden arrival behind their ranks. “Captain! Is that-?”

“Don’t know anymore!” Price seemed to be as lost as Gaz was, reining in his confusion to focus on taking Konni out. “Keep your head in the game, Gaz; ask questions later.”

Gaz knew Price was right, the town was brimming with Russian ultranationalists, hiding and waiting for their time to jump at them. The situation was still chaotic, but it was better than being without cover. Gaz followed Horangi behind a wall, watching his back while they worked through the humans.

Somehow, Konni either retreated or were all dead, swallowed down by the beast that stood before them. Now that Gaz was standing so close to it - to you, after a few minutes of talking back and forth, they concluded that this was you from the pants that hung from your slim hips - he could see that the deer skull was just a mask covering your face, black and unidentifiable with those bright, gleaming eyes that stared down at him. Despite your curved back, bent to look at them, you towered over everyone, even König seemed small beside you, limbs almost as long as you, fingers tipped with blood that you were still licking off, a long tongue wrapped around your digit to clean yourself from blood, muscle and guts. 

You were casually cleaning yourself up like a cat washing, even in the aircraft, you were gorging on the body of a man you picked up, jaw opening to show them the dozen of teeth before you clamped down on the forearm, tearing into the muscle with famished intent. None of them could take their eyes off you, their sweet, smiley medic who sometimes had their moments, devouring a man without batting an eye, obliviously uncaring of their staring. Gaz wasn’t sure if he knew how he felt, a warmth building up in his chest, a heat that seared into the fibres of his beings like an infectious thing. All they did was watch you eat, no one speaking until you finished your meal.

“Mind tell us what happened, Hunter?” 

You perked up, blinking at Price owlishly, tongue lolling out to lick up the stray drop of blood that stuck on your skull’s teeth. Your chest rumbled, a soft growl rolling off your body while you tilted your head, you acted so much like a feline, grooming, reacting and moving like a curious cat, dangerous, yet so appealing. 

“Wendigo,” you rasped, voice breathy and weak, you spoke in broken English, unable to speak fluently after turning, “Curse, eat human.”

Your little mannerism, the small tilt of your head and your fumbling hands, seemingly embarrassed or ashamed after your show of ruthless hunger and savagery was… eye-opening. Something stewed inside him, your being creating a ripple in his heart, pulling at the hunger in the depth of his gut. He was torn by the fear of having you as the potential enemy and the arousal of seeing you break men in half, painting the ground in crimson and guts, and satiating your hunger - craving - with human and monster flesh. 

Gaz was fucked, both in the head and the situation. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @virginalsacrifice

[bagofshinyrocks]

Green-Eyed Monster

Prompt: Established relationship; Reader is jealous of someone flirting with their spouse Thranduil, who is oblivious [inspo from @nightfall-writer]

Featuring: Thranduil Oropherion x GN!Spouse!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: nothing besides my "Tauriel and Legolas are BFFs" propaganda

You had no reason for envy. 

You were happily wed to the love of your life. Joined the royalty of Eryn Galen through your marriage to the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion. Doted upon by your husband, and cared for by your subjects. You wanted for nothing.

And yet… in had crept “the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on” (Othello III:3).

There was never any doubt in your mind that Thranduil was faithful to you. His love for you was as unwavering as water downhill. As was yours for him.

He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you, and all but melted into your embrace in the privacy of your bedchambers. The touch of your hand more calming than chamomile. The taste of your lips more intoxicating than wine. Your bare skin more alluring than a soft bed after a long day.

But as wise and regal as your husband was, he could be a bit thick in the head at times.

It had been a whole ordeal for the two of you to come together in the first place. A host of conspirators, led by Legolas and Tauriel. An idiotic dance as the two of you convinced yourselves that your feelings were unrequited. You were surprised that your now step-son had not smacked either of you upside the head at least once. His patience was unparalleled. In this instance at least.

So you couldn’t quite blame your husband for not recognizing others’ romantic interest in him.

There were nobles from other lands, elf, dwarrow, and man alike, who were visiting. After the Battle of the Five Armies and the retaking of Erebor by the line of Durin, he decided (i.e. he was persuaded) to expand trade relations, renew treaties, and welcome ambassadors. It seemed that almost every month brought someone new to his halls.

And you weren’t surprised that someone else would find your husband attractive. Not at all.

When you first met him, you could barely breathe. Ageless beauty. Sleek, shining blond hair. Piercing blue eyes. Luxurious clothing and jewelry with more detail than one could find in a day. Voice and speech that crept into your ears and made a home in your mind. You found the Sindar attractive the moment you saw him.

For an ambassador or noble to find Thranduil handsome meant their eyes functioned in some capacity. To find his voice and speech charming, their ears. That did not bother you. It was when their feelings changed like yours did, from aesthetic appreciation to romantic desire.

And he was oblivious to it all. Your speechlessness the day you met, your intimidation at meeting a king. The eagerness for those to meet with him, an eagerness to engage with Eren Galen and its wealth of materials, labor, and beauty.

Jealousy seemed so irrational an emotion. Thranduil was wholly yours; inattentive towards other romantic pursuits. Doted upon you. Craved your company and affection at all times

But it ate at you. Others and their lingering glances. Flirtatious words. Gentle brushes against him. And the ugliness of what you felt.

Your marriage was still recent, especially by elven standards. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. To act like a child who refuses to let others play with their toy. You would turn away and pretend you did not see it, or skip meetings you were not invited to.

Thranduil was concerned. Held you close at night. Reminded you how much he loved you and how brilliant you were. How lucky he was to have you in his life and as his spouse. He must have thought that all the social engagements were draining you. 

“I thank you for meeting with us, sir.” You stood from your seat at the head of the table, and everyone else leaped to their feet. It was still a little strange for so many people to hang on your every word. “I will bring your proposal to King Thranduil shortly.”

The man from Dale beamed and bowed low. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Most of the councilors filed out, but the nobleman scampered over to your side. Another low bow which you met with a nod.

“Long have I heard of the beauty of elves, Your Majesty…” A quirk in your eyebrow reminded him of his place, and he quickly caught himself. “The beauty of your halls, your craftsmanship and arts. It is an honor to see it all.” 

You gave him a polite smile. “Thank you, sir. You are too kind.”

He opened his mouth again for more flattery, but another voice interrupted. One from the doorway.

“Meleth nín?”

There stood your husband, dressed in robes blue as water in moonlight. A tall crown of silver branches. White stones imitated snow and ice amongst the delicate wire.

“Forgive me, sir,” he said, not even sparing the nobleman a glance, “but I must speak with my love now.”

The nobleman quickly excused himself, but hadn’t the chance to leave the room before Thranduil had your hands in his, and his lips on yours.

When he leaned in, you expected a chaste kiss against your cheek. Instead, one hand settled on the back of your neck, and the other placed your hand against his chest. Its opposite quickly mirrored and both of your hands held the fabric of his robe.

Your lips were shiny and your face warm by the time your husband pulled away from you. All the tension had melted from him, and he wasted no time in pressing his forehead against yours and letting his eyes flutter closed again. Once his breath came easy again, he gave you a chaste kiss on the nose.

“Forgive my forwardness, meleth nín,” he cooed in Sindarin, a gentle brush of his hand over your cheek.

“Nothing to forgive, husband.” A kiss to his nose. “How could I be upset at the notion that my husband, the most handsome of all who have lived, live now, and will ever life, desires me?”

A smile at your words, and another kiss on your forehead.

That evening, the two of you were entwined on the couch in your apartments. His head rested against your chest, against your heartbeat, and your fingers combed through his hair and rubbed his back.

A fire crackled in the hearth, and two half-drunk goblets of wine sat on the table at your elbow. A comfortable silence, broken after a good while by a single word.

“Beloved,” he asked quietly.

“Yes?”

“I have a confession. And need your advice.”

The hand formerly in his hair transferred to gently scratch the back of his neck and you briefly squeezed him close with the other arm. He adjusted so he could look up at your face a bit better.

“Of course, meleth nín. What is it?”

“When you were speaking to that man from Dale… I had a foolish thought. Jealousy. I’ve felt it a great deal over the past few weeks, thought I never acted upon it. Until today. I feel childish now, interrupting and publicly expressing physical affection in neither the right time nor the right place. I-”

You cut him off with a kiss to his lips. A startled noise from him, then he pulled himself further up the couch so you could kiss more passionately. He wasn’t entirely sure why you were so taken with the idea of him being so immature, but he was glad you weren’t disappointed.

A quick huff of breath as you pulled apart.

“I love you so much,” you panted, then breaking into giggles. His brows furrowed.

“What is so funny?”

You kissed his nose. “Because I have been feeling jealous the past few weeks. And I hadn’t a clue you were feeling similarly.”

“Why are you feeling jealous?”

“Because,” you flicked his chest, “you have an entourage of nobles, merchants, and ambassadors doting after you. And I was disappointed in myself for being so immature.”

“I do?”

A very unregal snort from you. “Meleth nín, for one so wise, you are so…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

More giggles from you. “Very well.”

He rested his head on your shoulder and his nose was tucked comfortably against your throat. The soothing warmth of his breath and the movement of his chest almost lulled you to sleep.

“I don’t think feeling jealousy is a bad thing,” you mused, fingers tracing the embroidery of his leisure dress. “It is a natural part of our behavior, to feel protective of things we love. And you weren’t rude or aggressive, for which I would have been unhappy. I’m glad you love me so much that somewhere in you,” a tap to the side of his head, as if to point the spot out, “a primal sliver encourages you to keep me all to yourself.”

A deep kiss from your husband. One hand behind your neck, cradling your head. The other crept between your back and the couch, fingers pressing into your flesh, pulling you into him as if any distance between you two still existed. You were smiling wide against his lips.

“How silly we both are,” he chuckled after leaning back for air.

Your fingers combed through his hair, finally settling to gently scratch the scalp around his ears.

“Indeed we are, my love.”

Enjoy reading this? Here's a link to my other works! Thanks for reading :-)

Posted: 2024 March 7

[is-the-fire-real]

Another bit on the pro-Pal fandom, this one axiomatic

Being a good person is not the same thing as pretending as though you believe you are a good person.

Being a good person takes work. You have to do stuff. Doing stuff is hard. Doing good stuff is harder, because you have to put thought into determining what you think is good beforehand. That requires self-reflection, honesty, a willingness to challenge oneself, and taking in information from other people to verify that your concept of "good" is, well, good.

The nice part is that once you evaluate what is good and start doing good things, it becomes easier. You gain inner calm, peace, and even joy.

("Good" is not always the same as "necessary". Necessary work can be a slog, or it can be horrific. But there can still be a calming satisfaction at the core, the security that this is necessary and therefore worthwhile.)

Pretending to believe you are a good person takes less immediate work. You don't have to do anything that positively impacts the real world, and you don't have to do any of that annoying, time-consuming self examination. But in the long run, it's more exhausting. By far.

You are insecure about whether or not you are a good person. You're pretending to believe you are good. You can't feel secure in something you pretend to believe. That insecurity gnaws at you, especially when you engage in bad behavior--harassment, doxxing, posting gore, swarming tags, encouraging and promoting suicide among your fellow "activists", telling your opponents to kill themselves, stalking, spamming unrelated content with literal Nazi propaganda.

None of those are good things good people do. And you understand that. You would think someone was bad if they did those things to you. The cognitive dissonance between who you want to be and who you really are, as determined by your actions, is scary. It's painful. It rears up every time someone you have labeled a Zio colonizer scumbag asks you to please just stop and you remember a time when you begged someone--an abuser, a troll online, a 4channer, your parents--to just stop please just leave me alone.

That must feel terrifying, and again, it makes you insecure. It makes you question if you're doing the right thing.

So you do the work to pretend to believe you are good. And that's far more work than goes into being good.

You recruit others, and all of you agree that you will pretend together. Tabletop gaming has taught us how powerful this imaginative play can be. You all reassure each other that you are good and you are right. But since you're all lying to each other, that means you must spend more, and more, and more time every day telling each other that you are good, chasing that high, that feeling that you are a good person and your actions are justified.

You tell each other that your "opponents" in this "battle" are not people, so anything you say or do to and about them is okay. You look at lists of "dehumanizing tactics" and instead of internalizing what those lists are teaching you, you go: "Ah, so if I don't use the word 'vermin', anything I say should be fine!" And then you say it.

You do not smile over good news. You only smile when one of your opponents logs off Tumblr because you made the site unusable and unsafe for them. (The expression you make there isn't really a smile, but we'll call it that, since the corners of your mouth do turn upward.) You tell yourself you're just attacking Zionists and pretend you do not see how you're really going after Jews.

No self-examination; that would mean admitting that you're lying to yourself and others. Instead, you traumatize and exhaust yourself until you're psychologically incapable of self-examination. You watch snuff films. You stare at mangled bodies until you're weeping and physically ill (certainly, you're too ill to check whether the video is real, or if it was taken from this conflict).

You force your beliefs into your fandom spaces so that others, the bad people, cannot escape their complicity in genocide.

But more importantly, you do that so you can't escape.

You cannot engage in any fandom but the pro-Pal fandom because that takes imaginative energy away from your biggest pretense--that you're a good person.

You are NOT hurting people because you are striking a blow for Palestinians. You are hurting people, including yourself, because you do not want to do the work of becoming a good person. You are afraid that self examination, at this point, will reveal to you that you are exactly the sort of person you believe you are fighting.

That fear, that insecurity, that dread, that restless sense that if you ever rest or stop or think for just a moment, you'll discover something awful? That's your conscience.

I do not ask you to change your mind about your political opponents. Your defenses are already on your lips and in your mind; a thousand How Dare Yous for me hinting that you look at other people as people. What I will ask you is to consider this.

I came to young adulthood just as Bush was elected, and the Iraq War post-9/11 was the first war I really followed as an adult. I did what you're doing now. I forced myself to look at photographs of destroyed bodies. I looked at photographs of torture perpetrated by US soldiers. I blogged about it obsessively.

I told myself that I was Doing My Part to end the war. But really, it's that the anxiety of being an American during the war made me insecure over whether or not I was responsible for all of this, and therefore, a bad person. If I pretended my looking at snuff photos was activism, and that it was good, then I could pretend to believe I was good and shout "Not in my name" at protests. I could deny my responsibility.

What I really did was traumatize myself. It's been almost twenty years. I can still see some of those torture pictures in my head. In the end, that is the extent of the impact of my online activism. The blogs are all long deleted, and nobody remembers them.

Only my trauma remains.

I do not want this for you. I want you to be wiser. There is still time. You can stop.

Stop hurting yourself and other people. Do the hard work. Examine yourself and your actions. Consider what your own heart is trying to tell you whenever you start to get the shakes and your throat gets tight. Do not take that feeling out on random people online because they have a Magen David in their pfp.

Once you have done the hard work, it gets easier. You will be able to advocate and work for whatever causes you believe in because you know they are good, not because you're joining your friends in cosplaying goodness. You will still be traumatized, and you will still be sad, and you'll definitely still get angry. You will have to face how you've acted exactly like your own past abusers, and that's a real tough row to hoe.

But at the end, you will be able to advocate and work because you want to, instead of feeling as though you must in order to keep up the masquerade.

[fairuzfan]

Your post about how many people are unknowingly falling for & spreading propaganda... yeah. I typed up a whole spiel of a comment on one of your posts the other day that I ended up deciding not to not actually post because it felt like detailing, but seriously. The amount of well meaning, genuinely anti-zionist people ignorantly sharing zionists' posts because they just don't pick up on the leading undertones is honestly more terrifying than than the amount of actual zionists in some ways.

I'm someone who was born into a doomsday cult, and seeing all these people falling for the exact same blatant (or so i thought lol) recruitment/manipulation tactics I've seen used by them my entire life has absolutely fucking terrifying. These are people who are actively trying to combat zionism, but I guess the general public is so uneducated about propaganda/cult tactics that what immediately reads as blatantly manipulative, misleading bullshit to me just doesn't even register as strange to most people. Not to be repetitive, but seriously: fucking terrifying.

There's so much focus on the way people/groups who want to manipulate you will use language of fear, but in this case especially, people need to realize they will almost always appeal to your compassion before they appeal to your fear.

It's all peace and love and happiness because that's what gets people in the door. You preach (or post) the mushy, happy, fun stuff that makes people feel good to draw them in, and you slowly start peppering in the ideas you actually want to lead them to believe later on once you've got them wanting to believe you.

This also has this added effect of helping the group or person's image. Even the people who you don't manage to draw in will have the impression of you as someone who runs their mouth 24/7 about how you're full of love and want the best for everyone, which is especially useful for when you inevitably want to frame yourself as the victim to demonize the people who will inevitably oppose you. If your first and only exposure to a person is seeing them calling for world peace and universal love, you are much more likely to be inclined to believe they (and by extension their cause) are the sympathetic, loving, peaceful good guys being unjustly targeted.

Sorry for rambling, but like... really. It won't always be something nefarious, of course--the vast majority of the the time, it won't be--but I think we would all be in a much better situation if people took it as a general rule of thumb that you should always be a little suspicious of overly vague talk about peace and love.

You're EXACTLY right. I really appreciate this message, because you put to words a lot of my inherent analysis of arguments and ideas. I like grew up with this rhetoric so it's easy to spot for me, but the way that people speak about "peace" as the overall goal when they're zionist is so blatant to me because there is no material change in the scenario they propose but rather a calmness where Palestinians are ignored.

And picking up on subtext of a lot of messages is something you have to have a muscle for kinda because of how subtle it is. The frightening part is, you're right, that the indoctrination part of zionism is the most harmful part because you appeal to their pathos — their fear, their sense of safety, etc — and you go on down the rabbit hole and slowly start being radicalized and pro-zionism or you might not even be pro-zionism 100% but enjoy... soft zionism as a mutual of mine put it once (if you read this and want to be tagged, lmk). Which soft zionism is the MAIN opinion in many liberal circles btw, its not an uncommon opinion.

I even remember once sharing a post by a zionist because i saw them talk about esims but when i went on their blog a few days later because something rubbed me the wrong way, I noticed their pinned and I was like "oh dam I gotta delete that other post" like that's how often this happens.

Idk, I try to combat this by putting sources or approaching from a standpoint of logical arguments rather than identity-based politics (although, sometimes i think there are some things that people who are a certain identity can be the only true experts on) so that I try to encourage actual engagement with ideas and walking them through thought processes rather than "I'm palestinian so just trust me."

Like even with my one fact checking list, idk if I succeeded but I wanted to emphasize that there are multiple factors you should consider when confronting ANY sort of information and should not blindly trust things. News sources have regularly burned or ignored Palestinians so I know a lot of us are really sensitive to these things, but I don't know! I hope people can engage with ideas more than just surface level thinking in general because it helps everyone when you actually interact with the point of view the other person is providing rather than just blindly trusting/distrusting people.

[adventure-showdown]

What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

ROUND 4 MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

Planet of the Ood

Synopsis

The Tenth Doctor takes Donna Noble to her very first alien planet: the Ood Sphere. There, the Doctor encounters the Ood once more, and red-eye strikes again. But what is causing it this time? He and Donna soon learn the horrible secrets kept by Ood Operations, and they discover just what mankind is capable of. Elsewhere, what is the secret Warehouse 15 holds within its walls? The Doctor arrives, and everything will change. The revolution begins.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Vincent and the Doctor

Synopsis

While taking Amy to several peaceful locations, the Eleventh Doctor's trip to a museum takes turn for the worse: his interest is caught by a painting of a church by Vincent van Gogh. What troubles the Doctor is that there's a face in the church's window; it's not a nice face, it's a curious, shadowed, creepy face with a beak and nasty eyes. The Doctor knows evil when he sees it and this face is definitely evil; it may pose a threat to the one who painted it. Only one thing will calm the Doctor's nerves: a trip in the TARDIS to 1890 so he can find out from the artist himself.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

[e-102]

SORRY LONG POST, scroll for atsv spoilers

thinkin about spiderverse movie and it’s soooo smart the way hobie acts and talks. when he realizes who miles is he’s already formulating how to work the entire situation out in miles favor. it’s not just the palms trick, hobie tries to get miles out of spider society IMMEDIATELY.

when jess drew says they’re all coming with her hobie says “i don’t follow orders, neither does he” which is funny! and you don’t initially understand why he would say that other than the fact that hobie has demonstrated he’s a non conformist for even the silliest things, so of course he would say that right? but after miles goes along anyways hobie puts his head in his hands because he was giving miles AN OUT.

hobie knows who miles IS he knows why miles is being called in and he’s already planning to get miles out.

he then subtly hints that things are a little less cool under the surface. hobie warns miles when no one else does, when he’s stealing parts for gwen’s watch (because once again, he already knows what’s about to go down) “bet you’ve got a nice set up, nice parents” Hobie KNOWS what canon events are and knows miles is before the big ones. miles says he’s in a fight with his parents and hobie says “that’s a bloody shame, cus you’re not ready for everybody else”

all of this while he knicks tech out of the wall and flaunts it to miles. once again it’s funny, an audiences first reaction is most likely to pick up that hobie is alluding to something, but be distracted by the comedy of his charismatic personality. it’s so smart, because even while he’s taking things he says “bet this doesn’t even do anything” (HES TALKING ABOUT DISRUPTING CANON EVENTS) miles replies talking about the tech “maybe it did before you ripped it out of the wall” to which hobie says “it’s propaganda bro”

and it IS. spider society as a whole is propagandized as a necessity to the stability of the multi-verse. they push that canon events MUST HAPPEN, but hobie doesn’t believe it or care. he’s purely looking out for miles, who is the little guy in this situation and an ‘anomaly’ from the moment they met hobie was looking out for him.

all of this culminates before the chase where hobie gives him the means to escape, visibly calms miles down and holds up his palms to remind him how to break out. then quits and disappears to wait for gwen so they can group back up. so good.

and anyways i have more misc thoughts about why hobie is in spider society anyways but that’s based on speculation so it’s going under the cut

okay the more you see that hobie is truly an anarchist punk who opposes authority and authority structures you have to think, why the hell would he join up with a spider society????

i think that’s it’s probably because of gwen. in the same way that hobie recognizes miles is at a disadvantage, he would definitely recognize that gwen is in a bind.

gwen has a trans narrative in this movie, she’s essentially been kicked out even if it wasn’t explicit, because she’s spiderwoman. she was taken in by jess drew and miguel and i assume she mostly stays on earth 928 with them or with hobie on his earth. that’s why her toothbrush and her sweater are at his place, because he lets her crash there since she’s essentially homeless.

i have to add that gwen’s position in spider societal is shaky. jess drew may have let her join up, but it’s shown many times that jess is unwilling to defend gwen to miguel. gwen KNOWS this, when she answers to jess drew she begs her not to tell miguel when she’s messing up and jess is largely unsympathetic.

gwen’s last interaction with her father ended with him pointing a gun at her. it’s not a stretch to say that gwen is really unsure of whether or not her father would’ve hurt her. she desperately does not want to go home because of that, and also because she doesn’t want to trigger the canon event that she KNOWS will end in his death.

gwen desperately, desperately, does not want to go home.

as for hobie, hes clearly shown to be someone gwen likes a lot, her inflection when she talks about him and the fact that she stays so often makes me believe that hobie has clearly taken gwen under his wing. i think he’s done the same for pavitr as well!

pavitr opens up his intro by saying being spider man is easy. once again the truth of the statement and it’s meaning is somewhat obscured by comedy, considering being spider-man is really difficult for the protagonist, miles, who we’ve seen struggle with his parents for most of the movie until then.

but pavitr says this because it IS easy for him, he hasn’t gone through any canon events. he’s been spider man FOR 6 MONTHS ONLY!

hobie is shown to really love pavitr, they have a brotherly and playful friendship and play fight excitedly when they see each other. i don’t think it’s a stretch to say that hobie has taken both gwen who is balancing on a tight rope, and pavitr who is ignorant to the larger system that will soon press him down, under his wings.

so why would hobie join spider society? probably to look after kids like gwen and pavitr!

and this is also more speculation that gets looser as i go on, but i wouldn’t be surprised if hobie was waiting for miles specifically to cause some chaos in spider society.

i don’t have the exact line but when he realizes which spider-man miles is, he refers to him by his dimension number of 1610. (this line is the basis of my belief that hobie planned to help miles out from before the beginning) but anyways, doesn’t it follow that if hobie doesn’t believe in spider society, doesn’t believe in canon events, and is allied with them anyways that he is looking for the opportunity to oppose them?

it’s his ideological code to oppose oppressive power structures, and he clearly likes miles as a person and what miles represents.

[jamiesfootball]

one thing about me is i EXCEL at stupid ideas so! here is a Stupid Ask for your daily dopamine dosage.

post-s3, roy attempts to be A Good Coach and implements team bonding activities such as sunday board game nights. this has the unforeseen consequence of walking into the locker room monday morning to find moe and colin arguing over whether monopoly is True Capitalist Propaganda while sam sneaks jamie $200 from the bank to get out of jail next week.

This. This actually matches up well with a thing I introduce at the end of my post-season fic.

This bit is not from the post-season fic, but there are definitely some plot points I'm cribbing from it. Here have some nonsense:

There were pros and cons to the new wellness initiative in the locker room.

And 'Wellness Initiative' was the phrase they were using. Not 'show-and-tell', no matter how many times Trent suggested it. Although with how many goddamn talent shows Roy had been forced to sit through in the past weeks, the former-journo might have been onto something. For a team full of professional footballers, a lot of them had found the time to sharpen other talents.

The idea had been simple: at least once a week, they were going to sit around as a team, and they'd take turns picking a topic that had nothing to do with football.

'Share-and-tell' Beard had called it, and Roy had growled until Higgins erased the name from the whiteboard.

Books, movies, whatever song they had bleeding through their headphones in the weight room, Roy didn't care. For one hour a week, they were going to...God help him...bond as a team. Share. Communicate. Maintain the resplendent inter-team hivemind bullshit that got them so close to winning the whole damn thing the year before.

Even if Moe's lockpicking demonstration was a disturbing hour of his life that he'd never get back.

But keeping the team functioning as a team was only half of it. Truth of the matter was, it helped the little idiots to have an outlet, something to get them out of their heads for a bit so that Roy didn't end up hugging a crying player in the boot room every other week. Four times had been enough, thanks.

Colin, the second-time boot room offender, had cocked his head like a Welsh corgi and asked, "Would it be all right if I brought my piano?"

"The one that weighs 800 kilos and broke your mother's floorboards?"

The next week Colin showed up with a new electronic keyboard that did not weigh as much as a baby rhino. He spent his hour taking pop song requests.

"Do I have to do a book report?" Jamie asked defensively when his turn came around. The three weeks before his turn had gone to fucking book reports. Even Roy was desperate for a change up. When he reassured Jamie that he only had to talk about books if he'd actually read a book he fucking liked, the relief on the number-one little idiot's face had been immense.

Jamie showed up for his turn with playing cards, a case of poker chips, and a bouquet of roses. The lads spent the hour shouting about cheating, and after a surprisingly aggressive run of bluffs and flushes, Dani Rojas walked away with all the flowers.

While Roy was distracted by Dani, who lamented that now he would need to buy a florero for his flowers, and Jamie, who thought Roy's water bottle would make an excellent vase in the meantime, he completely missed the gleam in Sam's eye as the unassuming player shuffled the card decks back in order.

---

Sam Obisanya was a fucking menace. One day Roy would retain this information.

Most days it was easy to forget. He had a calming effect on Jamie, who was less prone to biting when Sam was around. This made Jamie quieter, which made Isaac and Colin and Dani quieter, which gave the overall impression that things were peaceful in the locker room.

What Roy always forgot to add to the equation was that Jamie had the opposite effect on Sam, who on a normal day would never be found smiling like a post-canary cat while monopoly cards flew around the locker room like projectile weapons.

"I'm not paying you rent again, Cockburn!" Colin shouted.

"You keep landing on my square. It's not my fault you're bad at dice!"

"Bruv, quit throwing shit. It's my turn and I almost got all the railroads."

"The railroads are statistically the worst spaces to own; you know this, yes?"

"War is inevitable in a system where capitalism is dominant," Moe pointed out from where he sat lotus-style on the bench, abstaining from participating in the 'game of the exploiters.'

"Oi, Sam," Jamie whispered, sitting up a bit to tug at the edge of the other player's jumper. "While they're fightin', can you get me out of jail?"

Sam nodded at Dani, who flicked his hand in a way that spoke volumes on how he'd thrashed the team at poker. Two beige notes appeared in Sam's hand, and just as quickly disappeared into the collar of Jamie's shirt.

"Cheers," Jamie thanked him. He settled his head back down into Sam's lap, making himself cozy like a spoiled, cheating cat. "Never was any good at Monopoly."

Sam's smile was angelic, but his eyes glinted in a way that boded horribly for Roy's heart pressure. "Next time I can bring Settlers of Catan. Or Risk."

"Ooh. Risk. Should we team-up?"

Who knew Sam's talent would be putting Roy Kent in an early grave?

[feral-turtles]

WHAT ONCE WAS CALM PROPAGANDA!

If What once was calm wins I promise to:

Give Venus an actual design

Release a few beta scenes that ended up getting revised

Reveal what actually happened to Venus

I’ll make a ficlet about Venus’s last fight!

I will make a mini comic for Leo’s snap

I WILL RELEASE MY PLOT IDEAS FOR CROSSOVERS WITH WDTYG (@iamheretemporarly ) AND GIOVANNI/TWIN AU (@enthblaze)

@tmntaucompetition

[lucatea]

Hello! Pardon my sudden appearance, I just wanted to say good luck today with the tmnt au polls!! I know that you and your au are gonna kick ass!!! :D

Thanks! That means a lot to me!

It’s always nice to get a reminder that people out there enjoy your stuff!

Let’s hope this little creature goes far!

[vaguelyapeanutbutterandjelly]

Tism, but military propaganda

Task force 141 x Autistic!Gn!Reader Warnings: None really A/N: I feel like theres a good chunk of the cod fandom is people who saw the mw2 remake and heard "A new hand touches the beacon". But with a special interest y'know, anyways shout out the the autistic propaganda enjoyers, I love y'all. John Price

Once you tell Price, he had to do a lot of research. He knew autism existed and you would have sensory needs because of it, but that was about it.

He goes through his entire house to make sure you'd be comfortable in it (When he learned how certain fabrics make you feel he found any he had in his house and chucked them in the bin.)

Horrible at remembering information and lore about your special interest(s), that doesn't mean he doesn't try though.

Every time you start talking about it Price stops what he's doing if he can and listens to you and asks questions even if it's a very niche topic.

Sometimes when he has a stack of paperwork to do he'll ask you to talk to him about it because he knows it makes you happy and he loves your voice.

When he can, Price will stock up on all of your safe foods so even while he's deployed you'll have a little stash to eat. When his missions last months on end don't be surprised if you find "random" packages of your safe foods and snacks at your doorstep.

If or when you both move in together, you have free rein to make the house perfect for your needs.

Posters, figures or stuffies you want to put around the house because they make you happy? Weird little thing you picked up on a whim that looks a little questionable? Copious amounts of little trinkets?

Put them anywhere you'd like.

Tell him offhandedly one day about how much you despise the overhead lights in rooms Price is already asking your opinions on different small lamps.

Doesn't completely understand what stimming is but he's supportive. He buys you any fidget toys, chew-able things or anything of the like if you want them.

He'll be a little concerned if you vocal stim a lot but tell him it's a normal thing and he'll just say "Oh, alright"

The second you start getting overstimulated or just done with being in public, Price already has his keys out. If your not happy he's not happy, if he can you'll find yourself out of that situation and going home in record timing. Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Lets be honest, Ghost is too.

When you tell him he gives you a thumbs up and asks what some of your sensory needs are.

His special interest is anything knives, so if yours is anything related to knives you're in luck. One of the only times he'll be extremely talkative is if you ask him about them.

For the most part though, Ghost prefers to listen to you talk about what you like. He likes listening to your voice, it calms him down.

If you see some merch of something you really love, or a stuffed animal of your favorite animal he'll not-so-discreetly use his military money to good use.

Not only is Ghost extremely good at listening to you talk about your special interest(s), but he has a weirdly good memory when it comes to it as well.

He could forget what he had for breakfast but he could repeat that fun fact you told him a week ago word for word.

Not great at cooking, actually pretty bad at it, but if he can find a recipe on a dish that you love he'll make sure that it's cooked perfectly to how you like it. Just for you.

Ghost understands how hard it can be to de-mask, both literally and mentally, and he still struggles sometimes on what is him and what is his mask. So if you start trying to learn to de-mask more he'll be extremely supportive.

If you ever go non-verbal around him, Ghost would not care at all (In a good way)

Most likely already knows BSL if you want to sign with him, otherwise he doesn't mind trying to find a way to communicate.

Chances are if you start getting over stimulated or uncomfortable somewhere, he doesn't want to be there either so he'll be happy to just up and leave. If you're too nervous to excuse yourself, he'll bluntly tell whoever is there that you're both leaving and do just that.

Ghost doesn't stim a lot but he loves when you do. He sees it as you feeling safe and comfortable enough around him that you're open with your expression.

When he goes on deployment, he always leaves some little trinket he knows you'll love on the kitchen counter for you to find

Usually it's a new fidget, something related to your special interest, or something skull related

He always feels so happy when he sees or hears you stimming around him in any way, it just reminds him how he loves you. Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

The king of making sure all your needs are met

Also, amazing communication skills, he always makes sure to check in with you to see how you're doing throughout the day

If you let him, he'll host little 'slumber parties' where he'll gather a bunch of snacks, blankets and let you pick a show/movie for you both to watch.

Bonus points if it's something you've seen a million times before, he loves when you know little tid-bits about your favorite movies

Loves listening to you talk about any special interest you may have

He's a curious lad so expect him to ask a lot of questions about everything

Off topic, Gaz makes really good french toast.

Gaz is really good at memorizing the brands you like, he absolutely refuses to buy you a different brand without consulting you first.

"Angel, they're out of the normal one, should I get something else or forget it?"

Researches your special interest(s), especially if it's really niche or taboo, so he can keep up with you

If he sees anything with your special interest on it he'll buy it without a thought if you don't stop him

He finds any of your stimming adorable

If you own any chelwery/things to chew on he'd get interested and buy one for himself

Absentmindedly gnaws on it when he's doing something mundane, not a big fan of how much it makes him salivate though

If you get overstimulated when you're both out and about Gaz would find a quiet and secluded area for you both to take a break at.

If you tell him you just want to head home he won't judge you, he'd do anything to make sure you're happy and comfortable John 'Soap' Mactavish

*Cough* diagnosed ADHD *cough*

Will spend 30 minutes looking at two different brands of one of your safe food trying to remember which is the 'good' one

He ended up having to call you after he started convincing himself you didn't even like the food

Heard you joking about liking sharks once and now he buys everything shark themed he saw

100% will talk to people if you don't want to/feel uncomfortable talking

Will also punch someone if they make fun of your autistic traits within 50 miles of him

He'll trade facts about your special interests for facts about different explosives

Soap would try to teach you how to make a bomb

Soap would deny ever trying to teach you how to make a bomb

Soap would high five you if you ever "somehow" learned how to make a bomb and then blew something up with it

If you don't like overhead lights because they're icky he'll replace all of the normal lights in the house with disco bulbs

Can't fold like a wet tissue to bright lights if you're too busy boogieing

Usually hates doing dishes by hand because of, ironically, the soap

But if it comes down to it and you cringe at the mere thought of touching wet food, he'd happily wash dishes in your honor

He knows that he can be pretty loud so when he's around you he'll make a conscious effort to be a little quieter

Painfully oblivious most of the time so if you start to get overstimulated and need to leave someplace, you’ll probably have to point blank tell him

Once you do though you're both out of there

Soap does everything short of picking you up and sprinting to the exit

--------------- Hope this was good, please don't steal this and reposts are appreciated. Thanks for readin'

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

Adhd Sanzu propaganda because I want to, I already convinced someone:

He's a chaotic gremlin (Not need to explain that).

Same way that happened with Kakucho and Izana. Sanzu's days and life revolve around Mikey (I don't think I need to put examples here). Mikey is Sanzu's special interest and I'm saying it without shame! (Maybe a little bit of shame only)

Sanzu doesn't have sociallization skills. At all. But in a specific way that gives me adhd vibes (putting the trauma a part). Sanzu as a kid is sweet but weird. We can see him not reacting to Baji's tantrums in a way that yeah, can be bc he's used to, but also, his focus is not there. He's awkward in a way that makes me think that he's used to not fit in, to be look as a weirdo every time he talks. So he does the "I'm not gonna talk at all because when I do people hates me". Then, as a teen no division wants him because he's "a wild horse". Excuse me? Have you seen half of Toman? It's because he's weird and doesn't fit in, the wild part would not bother them so much on it's own.

Sanzu doesn't have a middle point. He's always extreme. When he followed Muto became extremly quiet and calm, almost like a shadow (again, it could be literal thinking of the orders Muto gave him).

His weird poses once he's not hiding himself anymore. All the Bonten scene, he's just doing his show, talking too much, too loud and too fast.

All the energy he have also in Kanto Manji. He's so hyped with being with Mikey. Acting loud, being weird and saying things that are only funny in his head bc he forgot to explain the joke (besides the cryptic timeleaping things I mean).

I know in Bonten and Kanto Manji Sanzu is unhinged, but there is something in the way he does it, not caring at all if people gets him or not. It screams adhd "fuck you all i'm not masking anymore" mood so badly!

The katana. The freaking katana is so over the top and so dramatic. And he obviously cares about his katana a lot, he never drops it in the fight against Toman, not even when Taiju sends him flying.

The teatricals of his plans in general. He kills Mucho with a katana in the place where the Kanto Incident took place. And he takes his mask after doing it. Such dramatic and aesthetically pleasing way of killing people.

The train. Hello? This is not NT thinking. Killing everyone, okay, sure. But with a train? What? And he brings his katana just in case? No middle point legendary level here.

He plans chaos. He literally thinks for days how to do the most random and chaotic unhinged thing ever! (The train, the train!)

He have literal thinking. Mikey told him to "smile" so he does it once he's finally serving his king. A big grinn all the time.

His addiction. Since adhd brains don't have impulse control, we tend to be addicts more than the average (I know this part doesn't prove it but it checks too).

The way he have so much beef with people that is happening only in his head. Yeah, he's a hater. But also, I can see a lot of rejection sensitive dysphoria and overthinking because he's mind is telling him everyone would reject him.

He was childhood friends with Mikey and Baji. No one is neurotypical there xD

Visual stimulation. Bright pink and so many vivid/strident colors. C'mon, his bike is pink and pretty! That aesthetic makes my adhdbrain happy. He's obsessed with pink in a not at all NT way.

He's hypersensitive and can't handle some smells (Takemichi, I'm so sorry for you).

Twisted sense of danger over here too. But different than Kakucho. Where Kakucho runs towards danger, Sanzu is the one causing it directly.

Sanzu being banned from meetings in the final timeline. Because he doesn't know when to shut up since he never did masking here.

THE UNMASKING METAPHOR! I left this one for the last because I just realized yesterday and it's beautiful. When he enters the 5th Division, he stops being loud and wild (he's still weird bc Sanzu). The same moment he starts wearing the mask. There is something there, a ND teen who doesn't fit, who is tired and just want to be like the others, being told to "just do that for not driving so much attention on you". And he does it. He wears the physical mask and he starts acting different, doing masking (not literal this time). Until he frees himself of the physical mask. And he stops masking his symptoms, his full personality. He doesn't give a shit anymore about getting too much attention, he's so sick of hiding, that he thrieves in attention now (even in the final timeline does that, he's a youtuber). Unmasking legendary level! (And hardcore masking when he does it)

Edit bc I was sure I wrote this but apparently not: Sanzu has no interest in forming new relationships either. Like Kakucho with Izana, he only does with Mucho because Mikey told him to. But even if he has zero interest in forming new bonds, he's still the center of attention (after unmasking), still being there loudly, being a big part of what marks the dynamic of the group. The "I don't wanna make new friends" but "I can't stop talking and being loud in a group", also a classical adhd mood!

So... I think that's all I can't think for now. It's probably messy and chaotic but hey, it's a post about adhd, so that's fine, right? 🙈

@just-sp-in-inginthevoid spreading adhd!Sanzu like I promise.

Ps: here is the Autistic Kakucho Propaganda in case someone is curious. This two are a pack and they hate it so much 🤣

[myeur-n]

Imagine that the Darkling had just caused the death of his own mother, and he needed to look for you once more

Note:

Purely based on s2 of the Shadow and Bone Netflix series, so some lore might be incorrect

"We've used the last of Baghra's remains for the others," the Darkling's Alkemi informed him, but he remained in his lonely despair in a mind unhinged. He needed a break from all of this planning to expand the Fold and consume the whole of Ravka in his darkness - he needed,

"The Wanderer," he murmured under his breath as his eyes darkened with a new way to beat this grief festering within him.

"Vladim, tell everyone to make use of their new Amplifiers. I'm going to scout ahead for some time," the Darkling pushed himself off his chair and began to march out of his own encampment.

"But General, why can't you just let the others do it for you?" his Alkemi raised a brow.

"That's none of your concern," the Darkling turned back at him, eyes glaring into his very soul while the corners of his camp turned darker. "Do as I say and speak nothing of it?" He ordered again through gritted teeth. The Alkemi pressed his lips hard against each other and nodded.

The Darkling mounted his horse and wasted no time astriding North, knowing what he needed was somewhere in the Fjerdan borders, the last time he had heard of her.

You were knee deep in a river with a ceramic vase in your hand. As you dipped it into the cold yet calm, icy river to collect the cold waters, you carefully walked your way out of river. Looking around your surroundings first to ensure that no one was looking, you slowly heated the vase with your own fire.

"Not very discreet now, aren't we?" A familiar voice suddenly called out from within the darkness of the forest ahead of you.

"Who's there?" You frowned and clenched your fists tight, though you already had an idea whose voice it belonged to.

"Y/n, has it really been that long since we last saw each other?" The Darkling calmly sauntered out of the shadows of the trees, with both his hands clasped behind his back.

"Its you. How long has it been? Half a century, I'd bet," you moved toward him and shoved your vase into his hands.

"Do you not know who I am?" He turned to you with a cold tone, but you've been living in the Fjerdan mountains long enough to know that he was just playing around with you.

"Whatever identity you've taken this time, Aleksander, I don't care. Just don't bother me with your propaganda," and both of you began to walk towards your modest cabin made of wood and steel, blanketed in a thick layer of snow.

"Anyway, what brings you here? This place isn't exactly friendly to Grisha. And I've heard that you're not really popular in Ravka either," you opened the door and led him in first. Just as he was about to sit on your favourite spot and in your living room with his ridiculously massive fur coat, you forced it out of him, which he complied with a light, but bittersweet smile.

The Darkling was usually broody, but you knew that something was genuinely upsetting him.

"How about we sit by the fireplace while I make some tea, then? Just like old times," you offered.

"I'm willing to sit by the fireplace, but I do not wish to drink your horrible tea," he only said as he looked around your plain house. You nodded and went to the kitchen, still within earshot of what your guest would say.

"I didn't imagine that you would live someplace so... small, Little Saint," he remarked on the lack of decorations in your house. "Then again, you're the one who's lesser in ambition between us two,".

"You don't understand, Aleksander. Not everyone lives in your Little Palace, under the riches of the kings that betrayed our own kind," you brought two mugs of hot drinks to the fireplace and settled down slowly next to him, passing one of them to him.

"I told you, I don't want your tea," he groaned.

"Its hot cocoa. And stop complaining like a child," you rolled your eyes.

Cautiously, he accepted it and took a few sips, before he placed it down next to him.

"Y/n, there's something I must tell you," he began.

You didn't answer, but your silence beckoned him to continue talking.

"That is... I wish you could have accepted the title of Saint, y/n. If you had been at the Little Palace with me from the start, you could have kept me in check," he choked out his words.

"I don't think old friends could have changed you. You've turned from the path we used to walk together hundreds of years ago,".

"But with you there, you could have at least - burnt some sense into me, like you've always done," he hissed as his eyes glared into fireplace. "You could have...," he breathed, then your living room began to darken with his shadow.

"Could have what?".

"You could have saved me from killing my own mother," his voice trembled as the confession took place.

"What?" You resigned your comfort in his presence and began to crawl backwards and away from him.

"Its true. I killed my mother-,".

"How could you do that to Baghra?!" You shot upwards, now fully standing and prepared to summon your wildfire to protect yourself.

Had the Darkling came to you to destroy every reminder of his past? Both of you had been comrades since you were children - you were his first friend, follower and soldier. If he could kill Baghra - the very person who birthed him and stood by his side for centuries, then what of you?

"No, no, don't be scared, y/n!" He held his hands out, expression contorted in fear - but not fear of you.

You summoned a sphere of concentrated fire, but then, suddenly the shadow around you began to form a beast of more than 8 feet tall, barely able to fit into your own cabin. The beast brushed past the Darkling and stretched out its dark tentacles toward you, prepared to decapitate you - and you recognised it from Baghra's old stories, that it was a Nichevo'ya.

Only the Sun Summoner could stun this monster.

You spread out your fire into the Cut, prepared to fight against it.

"NO, don't do it!" The Darkling shouted, but his voice drowned out between you and the monster. You took a deep breath, and as the Nichevo'ya stretched its hands towards you for the killing blow, you quickly turn defensive and made a shield of fire.

It let out an ear-piercing scream, and you summoned a beam of fire from your core, before you penetrated it into the monster of darkness.

The Nichevo'ya disappeared into the shadows.

Your breathing was ragged and you needed to take a seat, so you clumsily rest yourself against your own wall.

"Was that the thing that killed your mother?" You let out a tired sigh.

"Yes...," the Darkling only stared in silence at you.

"And it's yours?".

"Yes,".

"How dare you use merzost again! Can't you see that its hurt thousands of people once, and now you've gone ahead and did it to your own mother," you exclaimed at him and rushed to open the door. "Get out and never come back. I can't see you like this," turning your gaze away from his scarred face, you tried to control your breathing.

"You know I never meant to, y/n," he began to unbuckle his knees and slowly approached you, as if he feared both your wrath and himself.

"It was always like that, Aleksander. You weren't a monster when all of this obsession to save our kind began. You were our commander - someone I could pour my loyalty for. But now," you turned your head away, holding back your tears. "You're obsessed with hunting down this Sun Summoner of yours and expanding the Fold. Won't that kill all Grisha too?".

The Darkling pursed his lips and studied your face. Slowly turning to finally meet his eyes once, you realised that he was displeased with your opinions, but made no move to silent you with any threat.

"I promised those that follow my command they will be safe," he added in a low voice.

"And I'll bet that they believed it. However, you know that you can't fool me. I was there with you for hundreds of years, heard thousands of your promises to all of Grisha. And you only brought upon them ruin and death with your ambition,".

Your old friend remained silent and only stared at you, wide-eyed and furious. He shifted his gaze to the door you've opened wide to beckon for his leave. Nodding, his legs slowly brought him outside your house. You followed him out as if you're still attracted to his power of command like all those years ago.

"Aleksander," you said once more, and he stopped in his tracks at the middle of forest. "You're not a monster like what everyone has said, especially your Alina Starkov. If she had seen what the previous kings had done to Grisha, the way that people had hunted us down and refused to provide us any food and water - simply because you requested more from the king, she would have done the same despite what she thought of herself," you approached him and cupped his one metallic hand, and his real one in yours.

You flinched a bit at how cold it was.

"I know I can't stop you once you've started your plans, but please," you began to rub your fingers against his knuckles, warming them up with your fire of hearth. "Don't kill the Sun Summoner. You're already lonely enough, and I can't see you ruin yourself for another century again," your breath trembled.

He nodded, and only looked into your bright eyes of hope with his starless ones. You weren't begging him to promise himself to your words, for you knew that your old friend couldn't break his promises to you - and so his silence revealed to you - that even he did not know if he would kill his Sun Summoner or not.

Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck and embraced him. The Darkling closed his eyes, held back his breath and only buried his face within your arms.

Something was telling you that this might be the last time you'd see him, and he thought so too.

[fictional-orphan-smackdown]

BABY ORPHAN SLAP FIGHT, GO!

All propaganda and what each competitor is from under the cut (Spoilers for Black Butler in Phantomhive's propaganda. Also tw for human sacrifice and child murder in there)

Cubone (Pokemon franchise)

Every single Cubone that exists has a dead mom and I think that's why they're more orphan than anyone else who could possibly be submitted

Cubone is iconic across the Pokémon franchise as being an orphan. It's mentioned that it wears the skull of its dead mother in almost every single one of its Pokédex entries. In Gen 1 games there is even a main plot point about going to Lavender Town's Pokémon Tower, where the ghost of a Cubone's mother haunts the top of the tower, and the player has to calm the ghost so she can move on. There's also an inherent tragedy in the fact that somehow, every single Cubone must lose its mother in order to be a Cubone. So many orphan Pokémon as a result…

Well, it wears the skull of its dead mom

Ciel Phantomhive (Black Butler)

ciel is a pathetic victorian child with a demon (that looks strangely like his dad btw) who sees him as nothing more than a big mac as well as losing his only motherly figure because of her toxic yuri relationship. he is the saddest little victorian orphan and i think that amount of bullshit that's happened in his life is what makes him viable to win this smackdown. he also has a gun! he would win if this was like a physical smackdown. not just because of his gun but because he is just a violent little shit. he also has his own toy company and the little funtom rabbits are so adorable. we love a tiny entrepreneur! literally the only thing that sucks is that he's british. he could change that.

The interesting thing about Ciel's being an orphan is that he is an orphan but he isn't Ciel. "Ciel" was his twin brother whose name the protagonist stole after he was brutally murdered by cultists and used as a sacrifice to summon the demon that would eventually become Ciel's butler, Sebastian Michaelis. "Ciel" was the older twin, making Ciel, the protagonist, the second born son of the noble family in Victorian England. Ciel was not heir to the Phantomhive Estate for this reason. His biggest childhood dream was to open a toy store in London. But, once the Phantomhive Estate was burned to the ground with the twins' parents inside, the two boys were kidnapped by a group of cultists who planned to defile their souls to sell them to the devil they were trying to summon. In the end, as stated above, "Ciel" was sacrified and it was Ciel who ended up making the demon deal, not the cultists, and with Sebastian's help, Ciel was able to become one of the most powerful nobles in England and take revenge on all those who wronged the Phantomhive name. Without Ciel's parents and twin brother dying and him effectively becoming an orphan (even under the care of his demon butler Sebastian and his regular butler Tanaka), he never might have accomplished the things he did throughout the series nor would he have the powers he comes to wield with Sebastian at his side. I mean, of course, not making a demon deal and having your soul eaten and living a dull life because of that is not a bad thing, but I think Ciel's claim to power is interesting.

Not only are his parents killed in a plot against his noble house, but Ciel himself is captured, enslaved and abused. He only manages to save himself by making a deal with a demon: complete power and servitude in exchange for his soul. So now he's on a revenge quest; fights crime at the behest of the monarchy; takes on aristocracy and grim reapers; joins the circus; all while having a will they/won't they power-play-flirt-fest with his hot demon butler that both loves him and wants to devour him.