#i’ll spread our propaganda

[who-always-pays-their-taxes]

i swear to god ya’ll once i learn how to write i will populate the ao3 timlonnie tag myself

[oldiesstationlover11607]

'It's a good day' - Clancy!Tyler Joseph x Reader

Relationship: Clancy x Reader

Warnings: Dema

Word Count: 2248

A/N: Well... bandito battle prompt 2! This prompt was so cool bc I knew exactly which piece of art I was going to use for my inspo :) The prompt was to make something based off of another clique member's work so... I used @intheskatepark's it's a good day work!! As soon as I saw this art I fell in love with the whole forced sitcom concept. Also it was really fun writing a piece that wasn't requested for once hehe - NOTE I HAVE NO REQUESTS RN SO 🤷‍♀️

The vibrant hues of Clancy's living room enveloped me like a burst of sunshine breaking through the clouds. Brightly colored furniture—a cobalt blue couch that seemed to pulse with energy, a sunny yellow coffee table that radiated warmth, and mismatched armchairs in bold reds and greens—filled the space, transforming it into a sanctuary of joy amid the gloom of our reality. The lively palette was a stark contrast to the gray monotony of Dema, where colors felt like a luxury few could afford. In this room, I felt the weight of the world lifting just a little, standing before Clancy, the camera rolling as our characters seamlessly slipped into their playful routine.

“So, what do you think of the new coffee blend?” I asked, pouring an imaginary cup of coffee from a whimsical polka-dotted mug. Clancy leaned back against the vibrant couch, his posture relaxed yet playful, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

“I hear it’s like magic in a cup,” he replied, flashing a twinkling smile into the camera lens. The bright stage lights caught his cotton candy-colored hair, illuminating it like a beacon of hope, a stark contrast to the darkness that often loomed outside these walls.

“Maybe I’ll let you be my taste tester tomorrow,” I suggested, a playful glint in my eyes as I leaned in closer. These moments were my favorite—the delightful intersection where acting and reality blurred, where we could forget, if only for a moment, the burdens that awaited us.

“Only if you promise not to spill it on me this time,” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. Laughter echoed through the soundstage, a bright note amid our otherwise muted lives. “Last time, I looked like I fell into a rainbow.” More laughter erupted, filling the air with a lightness that felt almost magical.

“Hey, it’s part of the charm!” I chuckled, though a pang of unease stirred in my chest. It was a reminder of the weight of Dema’s constraints pressing down on us. This sitcom, It’s a Good Day, was supposed to be a distraction, a sickeningly sweet escape from the grim realities we faced, enforced by the Bishops. It was a perfect follow-up for the newly rising Dema celebrity, ‘Tyler Joseph,’ who had just released his number-one album, Scaled and Icy, with his so-called ‘band’ twenty one pilots. There was no band, only an electronically forced propaganda album made with pure physical and mental torture.

The vibrant furniture around us seemed to hum with life, echoing the joy we pretended to share. But beneath the bright colors, I knew we were merely two souls playing our parts, struggling against the confines of a world that sought to control us.

“So, about that touch-up?” I smiled at Clancy, running my fingers through his cotton candy hair as the script dictated. I gathered my hair dye kit from the colorful side table, the bright colors almost mocking the reality outside. “You look like you could use a little magic.”

“Only if you promise not to make me look ridiculous,” he replied, that teasing grin making my heart flutter like a butterfly caught in a gentle breeze.

“Trust me,” I said, pulling him toward a large, vintage mirror that hung on the wall. “I think we need to capture the moment. Let’s go with cotton candy—that’s always a hit.”

As I leaned in closer, the scent of his floral shampoo filled the air, mingling with the brightness of the room. I gently shaped his hair, a mix of excitement and tenderness flooding through me as I felt the warmth of his presence. Just as I began to dab the dye onto his locks, the studio lights flickered, casting playful shadows on the walls. Clancy tilted his head, glancing at our reflection in the mirror, and I caught a glimpse of the boy I’d grown to adore in this strange world we inhabited.

“You know, if we keep this up, we might just turn into a walking candy store,” he said, laughter bubbling in his throat, the sound brightening the atmosphere even further.

I smiled back, my heart racing. “What’s wrong with a little sweetness? It’s what this world needs more of.” Yet, deep down, I felt the tension rising, a reminder that our playful banter was merely a thin veil over the stark reality outside. The Bishops wouldn’t appreciate our little bubble of happiness, not when they thrived on compliance and conformity.

Clancy’s eyes sparkled with a mix of hope and sadness, trying desperately to stick to the script. “I totally agree! Which is why we attend our church sessions—the Bishops keep us afloat and make everything better!”

The words twisted in my gut like a knife.

Clancy leaned back, allowing me to work, the soft strands of his cotton candy hair slipping between my fingers. The sound of a cooking alarm chimed from the ‘kitchen,’ a playful reminder of our scripted lives.

“Better finish my hair because dinner is ready,” he quipped, grinning as we shared a laugh. I placed a quick kiss on his cheek, then froze.

“Cut!” the director yelled, and I breathed a sigh of relief, stepping away from the scene. I brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear, the playful smirk still lingering on my lips as I leaned in closer to Clancy. “You did great out there. Just try not to look so tortured next time,” I teased, hoping to infuse some warmth into our bleak situation.

Clancy chuckled softly, his warm brown eyes meeting mine. “Not sure I can help it,” he muttered under his breath. I knew he was right—there was nothing to be happy about here. But as we shared our lighthearted moments, I sensed the deeper connection simmering beneath the surface. We were both acutely aware of the roles we played, not just in the sitcom but in the larger game that Dema had set before us.

The director’s voice echoed in the studio, breaking the moment like a crack of thunder. “Alright, everyone! Let’s reset for the next scene!” The cheerful chatter of the crew filled the air, but the weight of reality began to seep back in, reminding me of the world beyond the colorful set. I glanced at Clancy, whose playful demeanor flickered as he stood up, brushing off the remnants of our scene.

“Do you ever think about what’s really happening out there?” I asked, my voice lowered to avoid the prying ears of our crew. “I mean, outside this bubble we’ve created.”

Clancy paused, his smile fading slightly as he turned to face me. “All the time,” he admitted, his gaze drifting to the window where the fading light of day fought against the encroaching shadows of Dema. “Sometimes I feel like we’re just... puppets in this grand performance.”

His words hung between us, heavy with the unsaid truths we both felt but rarely dared to speak aloud. The Bishops controlled our every move, their watchful eyes always lurking just beyond the brightness of our set, reminding us that joy was a privilege few could afford in this stark world.

“I just wish we could break free from the script,” I confessed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “There’s so much more to life than this facade we wear.”

“Maybe that’s why we’re here,” he replied, his voice thoughtful. “To remind ourselves of what’s possible, even if it’s just for a moment.” He stepped closer, and I felt warmth radiating off him, a stark contrast to the chill that often enveloped me.

I met his gaze, our eyes locking in a moment that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. The vibrant colors around us faded into the background as the weight of our conversation took center stage. “But what if this moment is all we have? What if it’s never enough?” My heart raced, and I was acutely aware of the distance that separated us—not just the physical space, but the emotional barriers we built to protect ourselves from the harshness of reality.

“Then we make it count,” Clancy replied, his voice steady and filled with determination. “Even if we’re trapped here, we can still find our moments of joy.” He stepped closer again, and I could feel the magnetic pull between us, an unspoken desire to bridge that gap.

Before I could respond, the director's voice broke through again. “Alright, everyone! Let’s get back to work! The next scene is ready!” The air crackled with the energy of the crew moving into position, and I took a breath to steady myself, reluctant to leave the connection we had just forged.

As we prepared for the next take, I couldn’t shake the feeling that our playful banter was merely a mask, hiding the truth of our situation. But Clancy seemed determined to keep the spirit of our roles alive. “Just remember, when life gives you lemons, make a zesty lemonade!” he shouted, his voice ringing out with a mixture of humor and rebellion, causing the crew to chuckle.

I rolled my eyes, but a smile crept onto my face. “You’re ridiculous!” I laughed, feeling lighter, if only for a moment. The lights brightened again, and we slipped back into our characters, the facade settling comfortably around us.

After several more scenes, the day drew to a close. The crew began to wrap things up, but I could sense a heaviness lingering in the air, a reminder that our reprieve was temporary. As we finished the final scene, I caught Clancy’s eye again, and for a brief moment, everything else faded away.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low as he leaned closer, “can we talk? Like, really talk? Once we’re back in our cells?”

I nodded, my heart pounding with anticipation and a touch of fear. I knew what he was about to say would matter—a lot. After all, Clancy wasn’t just any prisoner; he was one of the leaders of the rebellion, a position that came with its own weight.

As we were escorted back to our cells, the familiar coldness of the concrete walls enveloped me. The laughter and lightness of the day faded away, replaced by the somber reality of our confinement. I found myself looking for Clancy in the dim light of the corridor, my pulse quickening as our eyes met.

Once we were alone in our respective cells, I leaned against the bars, feeling the chill of the metal against my skin. Clancy stood a few cells down, a silhouette against the sparse light. “I meant what I said earlier,” he began, his voice steady yet urgent. “You have to join us. The rebellion. We need people like you—people who can see beyond the charade.”

I felt my heart drop. “Clancy, it’s dangerous. You know that.” The thought of being swept up in a rebellion, of risking everything for a chance at freedom, terrified me.

He took a step closer, his expression fierce and earnest. “I know it is. But it’s also our only chance to reclaim what’s ours. We can’t keep pretending forever. The Bishops may think they’ve broken us, but we’re still here, still fighting in our own way.”

“Clancy, I—” I hesitated, my thoughts racing. It wasn’t just about the danger; it was about what it would mean for us. “What if it doesn’t work? What if we fail?”

“We won’t fail if we fight together,” he said, his voice filled with conviction. “I need you by my side. We need to show the Bishops that we’re more than just their puppets.”

The intensity of his gaze sent shivers down my spine, and for the first time, I saw beyond the colorful sitcom facade. I saw the fierce, passionate leader that Clancy was beneath the playful banter and bright hair.

“Clancy…” I whispered, my heart racing as I stepped closer to the bars that separated us. “I’m scared.”

“Me too,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I believe in us. In what we can become. If you join me, we can create something real, something powerful.” He paused, his expression softening. “And... I want you to be a part of my life, no matter what happens. I care about you, Y/N. More than I’ve let on.”

My breath caught in my throat as his confession washed over me, mingling with the swirling emotions I’d tried to keep at bay. “You care about me?”

“More than you know,” he said, stepping even closer. The distance between us felt electric, charged with everything we hadn’t said before.

“Then let’s do it,” I found myself saying, my voice firm with newfound resolve. “Let’s take the risk together. I want to fight for our freedom—and for you.”

A smile broke across his face, lighting up his features with a mixture of relief and joy. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” I replied, feeling a warmth spread through me at his hopeful expression. “But just so you know, I’m still going to dye your hair cotton candy.”

Clancy chuckled, the tension lifting. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With a shared glance, a silent promise passed between us. We were no longer just two prisoners acting out a script; we were allies in a fight for freedom, our bond deepening with each word spoken, each risk taken. And as we prepared to face whatever came next, I knew that together, we were capable of creating our own story—one that would shine brighter than any sitcom ever could.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

Tags for bandito battle:

@banditobattlemotherfuckers @the-paladin-gay

[camels-pen]

more often

literally just propaganda for the current poll on @sanji-outfit-tourney (join me with the correct position and vote Strong World Sanji)

warning: horny & touchy guys. no outright smut tho

“You really oughta give it a rest,” Usopp said, panting. He was bent over, hands on his knees after having outrun that huge bird. Probably wouldn’t be so tired if he wasn’t screaming just as loud as Sanji. “The only thing you’re calling to us is a bunch of monster animals.”

That Sanji did feel bad about. “I guess we could take a break. You getting hungry?” Usopp’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. Sanji huffed a laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Sanji did food prep while Usopp got the fire going. Soon the two of them were sat on a log, waiting for the stew to cook and wondering where their crew had ended up.

“Bet mosshead is wandering in circles like an idiot.”

“Now you’re not even trying.” Usopp said, bumping Sanji’s shoulders. “C’mon you can do better than that. How about:”—Usopp covered his face with his hair and pitched his voice deeper—“With our luck, that dumbass algae wandered into the sea and found his brethren.”

Sanji laughed. “That doesn’t count, you’ve used that one before!”

Usopp grinned. “Yeah, but it always gets you.”

Sanji continued giggling as Usopp leaned against him. Eventually it petered out and they were left to quietly watch the stew, Usopp’s chin resting on Sanji’s shoulder.

“Y’know, I really like this outfit of yours,” Usopp eventually said, toying with Sanji’s hat string.

Sanji hummed, stirring the pot. “Really? I just threw it on—”

Usopp pulled on the string, making Sanji face him. “Really.”

Sanji’s brows rose. “Oh.”

Usopp leaned in for a soft kiss. “The hat’s very practical. And the string holds it in place.” Holds you in place, Sanji could almost hear him say. 

Another kiss, nibbling at Sanji’s lower lip. “Pink is a very good colour on you.” A good colour to see stripped off of you.

A third, diving into Sanji’s open mouth. “And the shorts—” Usopp cut himself off and Sanji relished in it, the way he was so focused on Sanji and Sanji alone. The way his words dried up in the midst of his want.

Sanji made a sound between a moan and sigh, letting Usopp explore his mouth and enjoying the warmth spreading through his body. Enjoying the way Usopp tugged him closer by the string of his hat, the only space between them two layers of fabric.

“The shorts,” Usopp said, breaking for breath. He slid a hand up Sanji’s calf, fingers trailing along his leg hair. “are a nice touch.”

“You think so?” Sanji whispered against Usopp’s lips, watching his hand slip under the fabric. Feeling calloused skin caress his own, a thumb rubbing circles in the spot above his knee.

“Yeah,” Usopp said, wasting no time plunging back into Sanji’s mouth. 

“I thought you were hungry,” Sanji said as Usopp started to push him down.

With blown pupils, curls spilling every which way, and hands on either side of Sanji’s head, he said, “I am.”

Usopp leaned down to kiss and bite at Sanji’s neck, hands starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. With a goofy smile and a flush spreading over his face, Sanji thought, I should wear this more often.

[ask-the-royal-absol]

Walt approaching the cabin and enters it. Because of Destino, he's a big nervous.

"H-heyo. You have a quite comfortable place to live. S-so, I heard you and friends have some adventures in this region or whatever." He doesn't know that he's on Kingdom.

"So, w-what's you gonna do? Or I should ask anyone instead?"

Destino: Now what I plan on doing is trying to sleep. However, I doubt it’ll be a good one.

*Destino continued to have their eyes shut, but you can tell that they’ve considered what you’ve said. After a few seconds, they opened their mouth to speak.*

Destino: Huh. You’re definitely right about the Underdark not having access to softer materials. I just assumed that the mattress was already there. I know Hope mentioned our kingdoms having a trading system in place so it could have come from there but I don’t know. I’ll have my doubts for now. Wouldn’t want to give Hope’s kingdom too much credit.

*There was visible frustration on Destino’s face as they tried to drift off into the land of slumber but was unsuccessful due to the questions they were being asked. With one eye opened, they took one look towards you, unamused by the question. They spoke in hushed tones.*

Destino: Oh forgive me for saying awful things about the fairy types. Perhaps I shouldn’t bring up the fact that they were the ones that forced us all underground, hoping to leave my ancestors to shrivel up and die.

Or perhaps I shouldn’t bring up the fact that the fairy types trapped my ancestors down there because they wanted one of their leaders to appear innocent when they had committed a crime so heinous and cruel that it should have led to the execution of that Pokémon. And when this fact was brought up by the leader of the dark and poison types (one of my distant ancestors), the fairy types leader lied to everyone to save their sister’s life so she wouldn’t get punished for her actions and started spreading propaganda about dark and poison types which led to many other Pokémon feeling scared and wary of my ancestors.

Or, now this is a good one, perhaps I shouldn’t feel hatred for the fairies because I may have never felt the warmth of the sun on my face. My subjects may not be able to experience any of this. Many generations of dark and poison types have not been able to know what the sun, fresh grass and the gentle breeze feels like and that’s all thanks to the fairies. Perhaps I should celebrate this. Oh thank you so much fairy types for leaving us in a hole underground. We really do appreciate it.

I’m lucky to even be up here and even now I have to be cautious by wearing an illusion to trick others into believing I’m a surface Pokémon. How fantastic. Real swell.

*This rant Destino went on left them feeling heated. They took heavy breaths after finishing. Destino was told from a young age by their parents what had happened to the dark and poison types to warrant them being where they were. The Prime hated that the fairy types forced every dark and poison type, even the ones that had the fairy typing, to leave their homes and live elsewhere. They were lucky the ghost types invited them into their homes. Perhaps the fairy types had changed their tune about how they felt about dark and poison types, but Destino felt it wasn’t likely. Unclenching their jaw, they shuffled on the hay bed to get themselves comfortable again.*

Nothing is going to change my hatred for fairy types. Nothing. And maybe I’ll take some satisfaction when I fulfil my end of the bargain for Mistress Mirage. Sure, I’m not a big fan of murder but perhaps I’ll find some enjoyment from this whole affair. Maybe this Prince Kader deserves what I’ll do to him when I eventually find him.

*Destino turned their attention to the group of Pokémon who had asked their questions before. With a loud voice, they spoke their request.*

*And soon Destino felt themselves drifting off. The land of slumber beckoning the absol into its embrace. However, this wouldn’t be for too long.*

(Destino is unavailable for a couple of asks.)

[perelka-l]

Draycest good. Very fucking good. You opened my eyes to it and I love it. I would’ve loved to do art swap except I’m way too scared of the fandom police. I honestly don’t know where you got the courage to post fucked up shit all the time and I salute you the hell for it 🫡🫡🫡. Keep slaying friend. I’ll be cheering you on from my corner here!

Ok real talk? I'm so sad how many people say they are scared. There is so little of openly thirsty people and it breaks my heart, how many people tell me that.

Guys!! We are big!! We are massive!!!! Fuck the police, let's enjoy ourselves like Japanese fandom (just yesterday I saw them openly fantasize about mikto bikinis and shoving bottles of beer up their favs asses without restraint and honestly, life goals). That's where I have my power from since 2010 and I never changed my approach. I'm here to have fun, not to be scared!!

And I'll add more!! I think I'm not cringe enough!!! I'm not sharing my love enough!!! I'm not deranged enough and I strive to be even worse!!!!!!! Let's do it together!!!! Let's be honest about things we love, let's be open about things that bring us joy!!! This way we can find each other as well and be a group and be strong in our love, not hide and be scared..... Let's even make burner accounts for this at least, just for one thing, nothing else, there is no need to always put yourself out in the open... Fandom isn't about hiding and gazing from afar... But we can work against that!

Because otherwise it's quiet and silent and it's so hard to share love when there is no-one to share it with. When everybody are hiding and scared. It's how love dies. Ok real talk i cried a bit when typing this out, because it's kind of emotional topic. Fandom is all I have, the only way to socialise in my life, and seeing it go this path is honestly breaking my heart. I won't stop being open. I'm here for love, friends and dick in the ass for my faves.

Thank you for the message, lovely anon, and I encourage you to be open! Please, don't be scared. It's important to not let anyone jerk off to your shame and their supposed moral superiority. Personally I think I'm superior than those supposed god fearing anons because I'm full of love for my favs and it's what drives me. Don't let anyone get into your brain and tell you you should be ashamed. Love is nothing to be ashamed of. I understand fear, I understand anxiety, but I will always encourage anyone to try and break out of it. Words won't hurt you, if they don't have value for you.

In the meantime I must think up more ways to spread Draycest propaganda 🤔

[spineless-lobster]

2023 character wrap!

Share your top 9 characters of this year!

(Thanks for the tag @sonnet-of-anarchy!!!)

1. The Captain (BBC Ghosts)

Uhm… quite obviously

2. Lieutenant Havers (BBC Ghosts)

Also quite obviously… look the new series gave me a massive capvers kick lmao

3 + 4. Henry Gaunt and Sidney Ellwood (In Memoriam by Alice Winn)

My top four are gay people who both served in the world wars I think this is saying something about me

(This book changed me forever omg if you love capvers or honestly anything captain related you’ll love this book okay sorry I’m spreading propaganda)

5 + 6. Achilles and Patroclus (The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller)

More war gays. I finished this book like a few weeks ago but it tore me in half thus they are ranking higher than they should be lmao

7. Sir Humphrey Bone (BBC Ghosts)

My darling my love my boy my son my heart my shining light in this world

8. Edward Teach (Our Flag Means Death)

MY BABYGIRL MY GIRLFRIEND MY POOKIE MY GENDER MY ONE AND ONLY

9. Julian Alfred “Jaskier” Pankratz (The Witcher)

CANON BI LETS GOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! Joey Batey’s portrayal is the only reason why I kept watching this trainwreck of a show lmao

I’ll tag @at-1800-hours @atleasttheyvegotstars @heftmanrhamm @louisthiccsexyglitteryass @pencil-case-watches @gaslightgatekeepmeepboss @limbowzo and anyone else who wants to join (no pressure ofc, sorry if you’ve been tagged before lol)

[whatacaitastrophe]

Kirnha x Gortash 2 - for edislendering

A one-shot I did for EdiSlendering (it won’t let me tag you!) <3 Thanks for requesting this! I had a great time writing it, and thank you for your donation to my Ko-fi!

Would you like me to write a BG3 one shot for you? Check out this post and send me a message <3

Song Inspiration: Red Light - The Strokes

Content Warning: Blood, Death

“Gortash,

I trust this letter finds you well, Chosen of Bane. It is not often that I pay any mind to the whispered gossip I hear in the halls of Bhaal’s temple, especially not gossip spread by acolytes whom I cannot even be bothered to remember their names. However, given the nature of the whispers that have reached my ears, it is my responsibility as the Chosen of Bhaal to inquire of their validity. 

While I generally prefer to work alone, if the rumors I’m hearing are indeed true, then you are already involved, which is why I am writing to you now. I believe it is possible we can help each other to achieve our greater ambitions for Faerun in service of our gods.

Come to The Temple of Bhaal in one week’s time to discuss. The password for entry is “Sceleritas.”

In Bhaal’s Name, 

Infamy, Chosen of Bhaal”

“Infamy, 

I’d heard rumblings of the Bhaalist movement resurging once again, but like you, deemed all to be rumors spread by wishful fanatics and bored citizens desperate for something interesting to occur in their daily lives. Pleased to officially make your acquaintance.

While I am interested in hearing more about the rumors you seek to validate and your proposal regarding them (presuming I am able to confirm such rumors as fact), I have little interest in traveling through the city sewers to get there. You are the one who requested this meeting, not I, so if it is an audience with me you seek, you will need to come to Wyrm’s Rock Fortress. 

I’ll let the guards know we are expecting you, and look forward to putting a face to the infamous name. 

Enver Gortash, Chosen of Bane.”

On principle, Infamy almost tossed Gortash’s response into the fire and abandoned his plans to form an alliance with Enver Gortash. The absolute audacity of the Chosen of Bane to not only deny Kirnha’s request for a meeting, but to make it clear that if Kirnha wanted to meet with him, he would have to go to Wyrm’s Rock? It was infuriating. Nobody told Kirnha “no,” and lived to tell about it. That Gortash was still breathing now was as much a testament to his position as Bane’s chosen as his position within the city council. Killing Enver Gortash, while an amusing thought, would be more trouble than it was worth. It would ultimately bring the Bhaalist movement back to the forefront of the citizen’s of Faerun, and the time had not yet come to reveal themselves to the world once again. No, as much as Kirnha hated to admit it, he needed Enver Gortash. 

Which was how Kirnha ended up sitting in the plush chair in Gortash’s office, impatiently waiting for the man to make an appearance. Kirnha knew he had no right to be annoyed that Gortash was not sitting in his office, waiting for Kirnha to call on him. Did that change the fact that Kirnha was annoyed all the same? 

No. No, it did not. 

When the door finally opened and Gortash entered the room, Kirnha did not stand. Gortash had not respected his time by keeping Kirnha waiting, so why should he show Bane’s chosen the respect of standing? It could certainly be called into question whether Kirnha had the right to also be annoyed Gortash kept him waiting, but he honestly did not care. The Chosen of Bane was already skating on precariously thin ice, and the two of them had yet to speak a word to each other. 

The dark haired man was…surprisingly attractive. Kirnha had seen illustrations of him on various pieces of propaganda, and in the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette, but he always assumed they were a caricature of the man who’d just entered the room. It appeared as though Gortash felt the same way about Kirnha, as the man did not bother to be subtle about the way his eyes scanned Kirnha from horns to boots, a smirk settling on his face as he strode towards the tiefling. 

“Ah, you must be Infamy. Apologies for keeping you waiting, I trust you were not here long?” Gortash extended his hand in greeting, and it was only then that Infamy bothered to stand. He was taller than Gortash; not by much, but enough that Kirnha was looking down at the dark haired man as he returned the handshake stiffly. 

“If you were truly sorry, you would have just been on time.” Kirnha mused with a smirk of his own, his tone laced with annoyance as he took his seat again. 

“Not one to mince words, I see. I like it,” Gortash walked around his desk to sit in the chair behind it, propping his feet up as he looked at Kirnha. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” 

Kirnha studied Gortash for a quiet moment before speaking. “My time is limited, so I will speak plainly. Is it true that Belynne Stelmane’s former associate known as The Emperor is Balduran himself?”

If Gortash is surprised by the information Kirnha presented him with, the man does not show it. He simply raises an eyebrow. “My, my, your little followers do know how to pick up a scent, don’t they?” 

That was all the confirmation Kirnha needed to know he was correct. “Is it also true that The Emperor is currently missing, because you trapped him in an icosahedron and then proceeded to lose said artifact?”

Silence. Even in silence, Gortash said everything. In a position such as Gortash’s it would be in the adviser’s best interest to deny Kirnha’s claims outright if they were untrue. As frustrating as Gortash was, Kirnha could respect that the man was choosing to remain silent so he could have plausible deniability, if he did not like Kirnha’s proposal. Instead of acknowledging the question, Gortash replied, “I thought you were going to speak plainly, Bhaalspawn?” 

“Fair enough. What would you say if I knew of a way to elevate us both to positions of power within the city by way of controlling the Elder Brain?”

Gortash studied Kanha’s face, as though he were looking for any trace of deception and Kirnha held his stare, daring the man to contradict him. They sat there in silence, staring at each other– it was a game, who was going to speak first. Kanha knew it was not going to be him, and if it came down to it, he would leave before doing so. 

Minutes went by, and finally, Gortash spoke. “I would say you have my attention.” 

Kirnha smirked and leaned forward in his seat. “How familiar are you with The Crown of Karsus?” 

“Familiar enough to know that it’s missing, so if this plan of yours involves it, then you are officially wasting my time.” Gortash leveled a glare at Kirnha. 

“It is not missing. I know where it is.” Kirnha confirmed. 

“Where is it?” Gortash asked, sitting up in his chair, perhaps a little too eagerly for the persona he’d been playing with Kirnha so far.

“That is for me alone to know, unless you agree to help me retrieve it, and use its power together.” 

“How do I know you’re not lying to me, making a grab for the power and influence in this city I already hold?” Gortash bristled, disappointed that Kirnha hadn’t given up the crown’s location immediately. 

“If I were lying to you then coming here would have been a complete waste of my time, and I do not engage in activities that waste my time,”  Kirnha leaned back. “Are you willing to work with me or not?”

Gortash’s face contorted into something that could only be described as a pout, even if that wasn’t really the right word for it. “Fine. What’s your plan, Infamy?”

Kirnha’s lips formed a thin line, and people who knew him would see the look and claim it was the closest the tiefling ever came to smiling. “Have you ever been to Hell?”

~*~

“If anyone ever asks, you were never here.” The diabolist, Helsik, said to Gortash and Kirnha for what feels like the hundredth time in the last fortnight as they ascended the stairs to her office, and Kirnha didn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“I’m not sure why you feel the need to repeat yourself– you made it perfectly clear upon agreeing to help us in the first place. Your terms are understood.” Kirnha glowered at Helsik, and the woman visibly flinched. 

“Just being cautious, as are you, I’m sure.” She raised her hands in defeat, sensing the tiefling’s annoyance. 

“Now, now, Infamy, play nicely. Helsik is taking a great risk by giving us access to the Hells. The least you can do is be polite.”

Kirnha’s gaze shot to Gortash, and the glare on his face remained. “Oh yes, a terribly great risk, for an obscene amount of coin.” Though he and Gortash could easily afford Helsik’s outrageous fee, that didn’t mean Kirnha had to be happy about paying it; or that he had to be nice to the woman just because she willingly took their gold. If Kirnha had his way, the woman would be dead the moment the portal was opened, but Gortash managed to convince her that keeping her alive could end up being useful, if they needed to return to the hells for any reason. 

In the short time the two of them had been working together, Enver Gortash’s mind was something that Kirnha had come to both hate and love about the man standing next to him. Gortash was smart, possibly too smart and certainly smarter than Kirnha, and every time Gortash made a suggestion or pointed something out that Kirnha had overlooked, the tiefling found himself equally as ready to murder Enver Gortash as he was ready to push all of the stupid trinkets and baubles off of the man’s desk and fuck him right there. It was maddening and, at this point, Kirnha was not sure which of those two things he would do first.

Kirnha and Gortash stood back as they watched Helsik paint the pentagram on the floor in blood, unbothered by where the blood came from. Kirnha paid especially close attention to the ritual as Helsik performed it, just in case there ever came a time he needed to return to hell– after all, it was better to be safe, than sorry. Soon, the blood on the floor was ablaze with fire that gave off an enormous amount of heat, but did not burn as Kirnha and Gortash stepped into the circle. Gortash looked back at Helsik and nodded his head in thanks. “We were never here.” he teased before looking over to Kirnha and shooting him a wink. A wink. The absolute audacity of Bane’s chosen to flirt with him! Kirnha hated how much he loved it, and the way his heart softly stuttered in his chest at the sight. 

Kirnha had no other choice: He was going to have to kill Enver Gortash. 

Maybe Mephistopheles would make it easy, and Gortash’s death could seem like it was an accident. Or maybe Mephistopheles would kill Gortash outright. After all, Kirnha was a Mephistopheles tiefling– the likelihood of being harmed in Cania was incredibly low. Kirnha stepped through the portal in the floor first with his eyes closed to combat the dizziness that often came with traveling via a portal such as this one. 

The smell of sulfur hit him first, and it was like being welcomed home. Kirnha was living among the tieflings of Elturel when they were dragged to the hells, and he’d also been one of the few who chose to stay once everything was set right again. He liked it here– Cania was a place where nobody cared whether you were a good person or not, and Kirnha had used that knowledge to appease Bhaal every chance he could. As it turned out, devils bled just like everyone else. 

“Well, at least Mephistopheles has taste.” Gortash mused after joining Kirnha on the other side of the portal. Helsik’s portal had dropped the two of them just outside Mephistopheles’ castle in Cania, and Kirnha nodded in agreement. He’d been here before– being Bhaal’s chosen on top of being a descendent of the archdevil himself afforded Kirnha many liberties during his time residing in Cania, such as being invited to parties and dinners, giving him ample opportunity to explore the castle and its grounds. Admittedly, Kirnha hated the dinners and parties, but he went because Sceleritas told him that Bhaal demanded it– that having a devil such as Mephistopheles in their corner would benefit Bhaal’s cause in the long run. 

Kirnha was not entirely sure that this was what Bhaal or Sceleritas had in mind when they shared that piece of information with Kirnha. If anything, what he and Gortash were here to do would do nothing other than turn Mephistopheles against them. This was why it was entirely necessary that they do not get caught. 

“You’re certain you know where he’s keeping The Crown of Karsus?” Gortash asked. 

Kirnha smirked at Bane’s chosen as they began walking towards the castle. Much like Helsik’s repetitive statement of anonymity, Gortash had taken to repeating himself, and it was becoming tiresome. “Not nervous, are you, Gortash? I thought you had more mettle than this.” Kirnha mused.

“I wouldn’t call it a lack of mettle so much as I would call it a healthy amount of skepticism.” Gortash bristled.

“If you’re still skeptical, there’s time to turn around. Now that we’re here, I’m sure I can find a way to do this on my own.” Kirnha dared, glaring at Gortash as they entered the castle’s courtyard. 

Kirnha was bluffing, because the fact of the matter was that whether Kirnha liked it or not, he needed Gortash for this to succeed. The crown was an incredibly powerful magical artifact, and it would take the both of them to control it and make it out of Cania alive.

If Gortash caught his bluff, the man said nothing. He only rolled his eyes as they passed through the courtyard and entered the main hall of the castle. Most people would not have simply walked in the front door, but the lords and ladies of the hells, and the souls who served Mephistopheles knew him; they knew he had enough pull with their master not to question his sudden appearance, and they said nothing. 

“I have need to visit the archives.” Kirnha said to one of the souls standing guard by the far entrance. The guard visibly trembled. 

“Sir, Mephistopheles is not currently home, and we are forbidden to escort anyone to the archives without him present.”

That was what Kirnha needed to hear: The Crown was in Mephistopheles’ archives– a place where all of the information and artifacts the archdevil had collected over the centuries was stored. It was not normally off limits to visitors who held favor. That they were being barred from entering now told Kirnha everything about The Crown’s location.

He shot the guard a menacing look. “Do you know you I am, you pathetic worm? I am Infamy, chosen of Bhaal and descended from Mephistopheles himself. I am permitted to access the archives without his majesty, and you will grant me access. So long as you do, Mephistopheles shall not hear of your disrespect.”

There was a beat of silence as the guard considered his options: continue to deny Kirnha entry and die, or grant Kirnha entry and risk death in the event that Kirnha was lying. 

As it turned out, the guard valued his wretched life, and he decided to take the risk of granting Kirnha the access he desired. The guard nodded. “Of course, sir. Right this way.” 

Gortash shot Kirnha a silent look of approval as they followed the guard through the hallways, until they were right outside of the archive doors. “This is as far as I can taken you– I am not allowed in.” The guard trembled again and Kirna waved his hand at the man.

“That is fine. We can take it from here. Just unlock the door.” 

The guard did as instructed and as soon as the doors were open, the guard fled. “Impressive,” Gortash stated as they entered the archives, and Kirnha simply shrugged. “I was prepared to have to fight our way in here, but they quite literally handed you the key.” 

“There’s still time for fighting. Just because they gave me the keys doesn’t mean we’ll get out of here without a fight. It’s not like we’re here for any old magical bauble.”

Yes, there was a very good chance that once Kirnha and Gortash found The Crown of Karsus within the deep archives of Mephistopheles’ castle that taking it from its confinements would trigger an alarm. The fact that it was being kept here, and not in a deeper vault, made Kirnha sure of that. It was almost as though Mephistopheles thought nobody was stupid enough to try and steal The Crown of Karsus from him, or that the archdevil had no idea anyone knew it was here.

For that, Kirnha could thank Cazador Szarr. The vampire lord of Baldur’s Gate had his own dealings with Mephistopheles that gave him an intimate knowledge of this place, and as it turned out, staying on Bhaal’s good side was of great interest to Cazador. Prying the information from him about Mephestopheles’ ownership of the crown had been all too easy. 

Kirnha closed the door behind them and took a few more steps into the deep room of the archives. He reached into his bag and pulled out a scroll of Detect Magic. The scroll would only help so much, as there were many magical items in the archives, Kirnha was sure, but at least it would point them in the right direction. 

What he had not planned on was the pull from the crown being so strong that it overpowered literally everything else. The pulsing magic from the detection spell was so bright and so strong from one specific direction that there was no way it wasn’t coming from The Crown. Kirnha looked at Gortash with a smug grin. “I told you I knew where it was.” 

As they rounded the next corner, the sound of the door to the archives opening once again filled the halls, followed by a pair of hurried footsteps. Kirnha quickly waved the spell away, swearing and swearing under his breath. He’d only brought one scroll of Detect Magic– it should have been all he needed.  

“Quickly, follow my lead.” Gortash whispered hurriedly, and before Kirnha could protest, the chosen of Bane was gripping the collar of his shirt and pushing Kirnha against the nearest wall. Every instinct of Kirnha’s was screaming at him to fight back, that Gortash was about to betray him. 

“What the fuck are you–” Kirnha started to argue as he reached for the dagger at his belt, but he was cut off by the feeling of Enver Gortash’s mouth pressing against his own in a searing kiss. Kirnha instantly stopped struggling against Gortash and melted into the kiss as his brain registered what Gortash was doing, even if it wasn't what Kirnha would have done. Kirnha reached up to grip Gortash’s collar and forcefully moved their bodies so Gortash was the one pinned to the wall, his tongue invading Gortash’s mouth easily. The moan that left Enver Gortash’s mouth sent all of the blood in Kirnha’s body rushing south, and part of him hated it. This was not part of the plan. 

Just as Gortash’s hands released Kirnha’s shirt and found purchase on the tiefling’s backside, there was a squawk of surprise as the footsteps stopped. Kirnha broke away from the kiss and glared at their visitor. It was the same guard as before, and he looked terrified. “S-so-so sorry, gentlemen, but I-I was instructed to-to–”

Kirnha pushed himself away from Gortash and stormed over to the guard, drawing his daggers. “Your intentions no longer matter, as they are your end regardless.” 

Without another word, Kirnha’s hands moved quickly and quietly. There was only one sharp cry of pain before the guard was on the floor, throat slit, his blood spilling across the dark tile floors like beautiful rubies. Kirnha smiled evilly, and a feeling of pleasure rushed through his body. Bhaal was pleased. Kirnha was pleased. He wiped the daggers on the dead guard’s body and stowed them away again before turning to Gortash.

“We likely have about ten minutes before anybody realizes that he hasn’t come back. It’s time to move. Quickly.” Gortash nodded and fell into step beside Kirnha as they power-walked down the hallway towards the source of the magic that the detection scroll found before it was wiped out. 

“You’re a marvelous kisser, by the way.” Gortash flirted, and Kirnha rolled his eyes. Now wasn’t the time for flirting and compliments, even if his body wanted to forget about The Crown of Karsus altogether and just fuck Enver Gortash up against the wall. 

“Not now,” Kirnha snapped, both at Gortash and himself for thinking such thoughts. “We can discuss that once we get out of here.” 

Gortash didn’t flinch at Kirnha’s tone. In fact, he smirked. “Glad you agree there’s something to discuss– I’ve been thinking about that since you walked into my office a fortnight ago.” 

Kirnha made a noise of annoyance. “What part of ‘we can discuss this once we get out of here’ did you not understand?” Annoyed as he was, knowing Gortash had been attracted to him from the beginning certainly inflated Kirnha’s ego a bit as they walked. 

The Crown was at the very end of a long hallway in a glass case. From afar, Kirnha could not see any signs of anything special guarding the case. Kirnha anticipated there being some sort of exploding trap spell on the case itself, but that there was nothing else guarding it felt suspicious. 

Maybe Mephistopheles truly did believe The Crown was safe simply by being in his possession. 

That would be the archdevil’s downfall. 

“That case is trapped.” Gortash confirmed as they approached, and Kirnha nodded. He could feel the magic crackling off of it, and he gestured to Gortash. 

“You can do the honors.” Kirnha ordered as though disarming the case was a privilege, and not something he needed Gortash to do because Kirnha was less likely to be able to disarm it in one try. 

“Gladly. Watch and learn, Bhaalspawn.” Gortash’s devilish grin made Kirnha’s heart stutter again, and he huffed impatiently. Fate was a cruel mistress for deciding to make Kirnha attracted to this man– everything was easier without emotions. Ruling, fighting, killing, fucking…all of it, and the more time he spent in Enver Gortash’s presence, the less Kirnha found himself wanting to fight or kill the man. Ruling alongside and fucking him though…yes, that was starting to interest Kirnha. 

Gortash’s hands were quick, something Kirnha took note of for later, and soon the trap was disarmed and the case was unlocked. “As soon as we pick it up, the alarms will probably sound.” Kirnha said sternly. “Are you ready?”

Gortash laughed. “But of course– I even brought a little piece of insurance, should anything go wrong. Then, from inside of his robes, Gortash pulled out another scroll– a Dimension Door. That would get them as far as they could see, so as long as their portal back to The Devil’s Fee was in sight, they could get out. In a moment of passion, Kirnha leaned in and kissed Gortash fiercely. It was brilliant. He was brilliant, and Kirnha both loved and hated it. 

“Let’s do this. For the Absolute?” Gortash asked slyly.

Kirnha nodded. “For the Absolute.”  

The moment the crown was in Kirnha’s hands, he could feel the power radiating off of it. This was the power that almost killed Mystra. This was the power they needed to control the Elder Brain. Now it was theirs, and as soon as they made it out of Cania, it would be theirs to wield. Theirs– his and Gortash’s. Together. An idea that was growing on Kirnha by the minute. 

[azumetapraline]

One day i’ll have to work harder to spread my ace lesbian Miu propaganda

This is a truth that has potential to do so much good in our world

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

Ok, ok, glad you liked the art! There's more to come because I am full of ideas and sadness! Prepare!

Anywho, now that I have rambled about the boys a lot (and trust me, there's definitely more where that came from), I thought I'd take a change of pace and focus on others.

Like Buggy. What we know is he escapes, possibly due to running away (which will probably haunt him forever) or getting saved by someone. He does meet someone, as you've said before, but who? Could it be Dragon? Does our greedy, narcissistic clown somehow become a revolutionary? Maybe it's a marine. Did a marine see this kid and go, "Screw it, I'm not killing kids," and let him go? Does he run into Smoker? Start a traumatize boy band (now I wanna write the fic we’re buggy and smoker run into each other after lougetown.) Or is it someone else, someone I wouldn't have guessed in a million years? Doflamingo, perhaps? That would be the meeting from hell. One of the other would-be warlords? And what happens to him? Does he spend the next two years trying to help Shanks in any way he can? Does he do mostly what he's done in canon and go for the One Piece? Or is he a warlord? Did he make deals with the world government for Shanks? ‘Gasp’ I'm gasping at nothing but thinky thoughts, but eh, I'll just throw some crazy in there for fun.

Also, are you going to add pirates we know to Loguetown who get caught, aside from the characters we already know? There are a few characters we see in canon that could be the right age to have been around. You could just slip them in there to add more people to the "Fun Time with World Government!™️" and more people Shanks and Mihawk can bounce off of while captured and once they get out. You said that they won't trust anyone who didn't go through what they went through, so not a lot of allies or having civil conversations. But maybe that's the point... oh well, whatever you do, I'm sure I'll love it.

Also, this pirate generation needs a name. If the last generation were the Great Pirates, maybe this generation could be the Silenced Generation? And later, after the two years, the Monster Generation.

And propaganda, does Roger's message about the One Piece get out there like it did in the main timeline? Not a lot of people escaped from the excision, so that's not a lot of people to spread the word. Is the World Government suppressing it after all? They didn't mean for Roger to tell the crowd, so why in hell would they want that driving force that created pirates who are specifically seeking a piece of the Void Century and possibly information on Joy Boy or Nika? So, do they turn it into, instead of a last word, a rumor? Like Davy Jones or Nolan and his Sky Island, like it's a fun bedtime story but nothing that's actually real.

Those are all the questions I have today hopefully I’ll get you that new art out soon no promises but I will try! Seriously thanks for indulging my asks, I know you don’t ow me any of you time and it’s cool that you’ve given me some. Anyways off to dreamland for me!

Prepared and so excited! See, with Buggy, it's a mess. If this AU is the sort-of inverse of canon events, Buggy has to keep his beef with Shanks. That happens because Shanks is the one who saves him. He gets him to safety, and then gets himself caught to lead the marines away from him. But from Buggy's perspective, Shanks abandoned him. Which. He's going to spend his time torn between grief/worry/resentment and thinking Shanks got what he deserved, (because Buggy is vindictive like that) only to find out how wrong he was. During the end of the two years, he's going to try to help Shanks, though. Him and Smoker do meet, Smoker being the one to spur him into helping Shanks. Smoker is going to go the way of Vergo in this AU, at least as far as the marines are concerned. Dragon is going to pick up some key players, (wink, wink) and he would save a child. So that's Buggy, even though Buggy doesn't espouse revolutionary ideas. (and Buggy would be even more obsessed with the one piece, it's his way of coping) And here's the thing, once what the marines are doing starts coming out, there's going to be an alliance between the revolutionaries and pirates to protect themselves. Because after the marines get information out of the captured pirates, they will start hunting the free ones. Benn Beckmann is already around, and some other characters will come sooner, some later. Garp is going to be the one who brings Mihawk and Shanks and some of those characters together. It will take them a long time to trust anyone else, but they will. And the pirates who weren't captured but were still hunted count as having a shared experience in their books. As well as the people who have been hurt by or due to the government, especially children. (wink, wink) I was thinking the Ghost generation! Since the marines kept an entire swathe of these people in captivity for two-three years, living as nothing more than ghosts. The one piece declaration did get out, though yes, the WG is trying to make it seems like nothing more than the ravings of a madman. It still becomes a substantial rumor, though, because it's something for the the pirates left to cling onto while they are being hunted. And the WG also wants the one piece. So it's them, and not the pirates that initially began the search. They go out systematically raiding pirate ships and hideouts and work their way up from there. When Mihawk and Shanks get out, Shanks kicks off the real pirate hunt by confirming Roger's last words. Which he does for Buggy's sake. No rush! And you're welcome! Ask away as much as you want, my mind is full of this and I'll literally talk forever if given the chance!

[marcescet]

all i see every time i open my social media accounts is pictures and videos of murdered, wounded, terrified innocent children of Palestine.

but i can log out and forget about it, i have the luxury to do so, but they can’t. this is the reality they live in. kids in Gaza are writing their names on their arms in case something happens to them so that they can be identified. do you realize how bad it has to be for kids to do this?

50,000 pregnant women in Gaza cannot access health services what with the hospitals being bombed & evacuated because they’re going to get bombed, 5,500 of them are due to give birth, are they not worth fighting for, marching for, because they’re arab?

Palestinian men are heroes, pulling dead bodies from under the rubble, helping the wounded, treating them, documenting everything so we can see the truth with our own eyes, and still they’re being dehumanised at every turn. imagine if it were you, pulling your cousin, your niece, your nephew, your kid, your sibling, your parents from under the rubble of your own home, or masjid (mosque), or church, or hospital, a place you turned to because you thought it was safe, only to wake up to the smell of death and chaos? and although this man’s feet are bare, he’s giving his shirt for a woman to use as hijab (something most muslim women use, we are not forced to wear it but it is the teachings of our beautiful religion) https://x.com/yamarhaba_/status/1716031379174203737?s=46

i speak arabic, i live in an arabic country, i urge you if you see any video that’s in arabic to go and ask anyone who’s arab to translate it to you, there are many accents in arabic, some are hard for non-arabs to understand, i’ve seen a virla video of Hamas taking hostages, and although i am against doing this, but they’re turning a girl back and the translation is literally “she’s a young girl, do not take her” but of course the israelis have translated it as “this is not a prisoner, this is for rape.” which is a lie, a complete lie. so if you see any videos that’s in arabic, although i have not stumbled upon many, as they’re trying to use english as much as possible so their struggle can be understood by majority of people, go on and ask any arab person you know, they’ll tell you the truth, do not trust any israel claim. this is the video i am talking about. https://x.com/davidpgoldman/status/1716068086649139340?s=46

also, asking for the freedom of Palestine from the terrorist occupation of Israel is in no way against Jewish people, it does not mean we wish death upon Jewish people at all. we are simply asking for the freedom of Palestine and Palestinians whose land got stolen, who are being bombed essentially for as long as i could remember. and you’ll find that some Jewish people are actually pro-Palestine.

i urge you to watch this, even though it’s vile and i had to physically force myself to keep watching until the end, and by the end of it maybe you’ll understand why israel is terrorist, why your tax money should not be given for them to keep bombing the innocent, see how he is smiling throughout the video while he’s describing what they’re doing to innocent people, i don’t even want you to imagine if it was you, i just need you to realize that this has been done to an actual human being, with hopes and dreams, with so much love to give out to the world. https://x.com/one_dawah/status/1710765784765485446?s=46

i can shut up about this and go on about my day, but i will not. because i’ll have failed them, and i can’t live with myself if my words could help even if it’s so little, i’ll keep writing about them, and spreading what’s happening to them, i’ll keep help expose the lies of israel and its’ propaganda. what more proof do you need to realize that what’s happening in Gaza is genocide, they’re wiping them out, ethnic cleansing. https://x.com/timesofgaza/status/1715783997358293378?s=46

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group K Round 3: #K4 vs #K7

#K4: Highschool superheroes

#K7: A story of children who want to be acknowledged

Details and poll under the cut!

#K4: Gatchaman Crowds

Summary:

Hajime Ichinose's ordinary life is in for a change when a transcendent being named J.J Robinson hands her a small book called NOTE—a device which transforms her into one of the Gatchaman, the legendary protectors of Tachikawa City. Stressing that the existence of their group must remain a secret, fellow Gatchaman Sugane Tachibana takes Hajime to their base of operations, where Paiman, the panda-like alien leader of the Gatchaman, reveals their purpose: to eliminate aliens that pose a danger to humanity. These existential threats, called MESS, are becoming increasingly dangerous, destroying everything they touch. Now it's up to the Gatchaman and their new recruit to stop them before the world is engulfed in chaos.

Propaganda:

Crowds is a very ambitious anime in my opinion! It takes place in a world not too different from ours, where most problems are solved quickly due to an app that everyone uses. Technology makes it so that everyday people can save each other. In a world where everyone’s a hero, what use are heroes? What even makes one? It follows a girl named Hajime as she joins a team of superheroes with her unique perspective. If you like animes that are different and somewhat whimsical (with the occasional battle). This might be up your alley!

The visuals are also unique and colorful, with creatures and locations that can be pretty abstract. The characters are interesting, each have their own personalities, perspectives, and motivations for what they do. Crowds is short, but it manages to give everyone some kind of character arc, and give them depth. I personally find the team very endearing, and Rui has STYLE! As a fellow guy who wears dresses and heels sometimes, I love him very much.

Also, THE MUSIC. If you don’t check out the anime you should at least check out the opening and ending songs, they are absolute bangers.

Trigger Warnings:

Blood, murder, manipulation. I don’t remember there being transphobia/homophobia, but anime has a bad track record in general and there are 1 or 2 LGBT characters and I could have forgotten.

#K7: Terror in Resonance (Zankyou no Terror)

Summary:

Painted in red, the word "VON" is all that is left behind after a terrorist attack on a nuclear facility in Japan. The government is shattered by their inability to act, and the police are left frantically searching for ways to crack down the perpetrators. The public are clueless—until, six months later, a strange video makes its way onto the internet. In it, two teenage boys who identify themselves only as "Sphinx" directly challenge the police, threatening to cause destruction and mayhem across Tokyo. Unable to stop the mass panic quickly spreading through the city and desperate for any leads in their investigation, the police struggle to act effectively against these terrorists, with Detective Kenjirou Shibazaki caught in the middle of it all.

Propaganda:

The big thing to this show is that the directors are Shinichirō Watanabe and Yoko Kanno, aka the team behind Cowboy Bebop. But in all seriousness, the show still haunts me and the music can still bring tears to my eyes. The art is incredible, and the characters are tragic. The story is partially about hope and largely about kids wanting their pain to be acknowledged.

Trigger Warnings: Child Abuse, Suicide

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

[frogtowne]

I know I ask a lot of my followers and many of us can’t afford to donate, but yk what’s free (if you borrow😉)? Paint pens. You can go into your local michals and borrow a few paint pens and start tagging stuff with sayings like free Palestine, how many deaths until you care, post a shortened url of the olive branch spreadsheet or a QR code, there is so much we can do!!!! It’s so easy and like mostly legal!!! I do it in my school bathrooms to raise awareness!!!! So many people don’t know what’s happening or only know the propaganda/Israeli side!!!! Spread the word and help reach people who can donate!!! I’ll add a QR code and a shorted url for you guys to copy!!!

https://shorturl.at/f3tNe

[shut-up-rabert]

When i went through the tags #hindublr #casteism 99% of the lower caste community of tumblr were posting abt the issues and were against savarnas openly against UCs and i found 5-10 ppl who were blatantly hating modi the ppl who praises modi and the whole hindu community and that's hinduphobia too (but did you mention them in the prev ask's answer no) and they say they have a problem w new desiblr hindu extremists i can send you proves too if you want and yet you answered the previous ask targetting just a single blog who appears to follow other faith....wow you're not a centrist you're just a joke atp ... Hindus talking even worse abt our religion doesn't come in the category of hinduphobia to you huh???? Man, you could've talked abt all of them but no..... I've no idea what kind of centrist you are.

Wow, mindbending to the finest.

The previous ask talked about that person, did it not? They reffered to her so I used my encounter with her as an example furthering her rant. I have no experience with the other kind, they sound like the classic twitter “put caste in everything” tho, and weirdly enough, I have ever only seen one of them.

I was told by someone else about the sweet61 person I spoke of and Guess what? I was the only one who knew about her faith because of a previous encounter, not even the people who told me of her knew that.

And do you think being from a different religion absolves her. She is spreading religious hatred in the lieu of “spreading awareness” and that needs to be called out, her hypocrisy as a practitioner of a different faith peddling motivated propaganda needs to be called out aswell.

Her being a muslim is not the problem, her lying about hinduism while being of another religion is.

And do you think I simply called her religion out because she is a muslim? Bull. Fucking. Shit. She spews propaganda regarding christianity aswell. Basically, My religion is mine but I’ll shit all over yours mentality, and that needs to be called out, no matter what religion.

The way you all get so sensitive over anything that remotely consists of people belonging to one faith but have no shame when hounding on people of other religions, God.

Don’t expect me to speak about things I do not know. Do you think I check casteism tag? And despite being subscribed to Hindublr myself, I have never seen these people except for one person who was outright cuckoo to the point that people will see for themselves how crazy she is.

You people and your blatant “bu-but you didn’t speak about THIS” well did you fucking consider that maybe I did not know? I’m not antaryami.

[murmuur-vanilja]

I FUCKING HOPE YOU SPEND EVERY DAY THINKING ABOUT HOW YOUR LIFE HAS BEEN PATHETIC FOR 27 YEARS AND MORE (I hope the guilt eats you alive)

Bitter existence, better transcendence, and a chalice of bloodied gold, chalice of golden blood Wires connect each other, nonsensical, as I walk among the polluted fog I can’t breathe in this air you’ve killed, and one after another, bodies fall with too many eyes watching Our sacrifice, meaningful and senseless, for what have you done to what could have been, greedy lying Propaganda masters circling everyone, where all their made-up sins intersect, lips sewn shut But even without a mouth, I’ll be screaming

SO PUT ME IN A CAGE IF YOU MUST, PUT ME HERE AND PUT ME THERE, YOU’RE NOT GETTING RID OF ME EVEN IN DEATH I SUBSIST, EVEN IN DEATH I DON’T PERISH, ETERNAL GASOLINE BURNING, STUCK IN YOUR THROAT IF YOU SEE ME AS A BURDEN, I’LL MAKE SURE TO BURY YOU, DEFILE YOUR GRAVE, SPIT ON YOUR IMAGE

Spreading ashes beyond white-made borders, a spinless dance to honour those who couldn’t carry on Charred fingers, for no good reason, but I cannot decay, all alone, without the roots you’ve torn apart I can’t see the sun, hidden behind your lack of justice, and slowly, I can feel the greatest collapse We walk still, no matter how desperate you want us to be, like a broken toy who can’t give up any more You’ve beat me so much, low beneath humanity, where your world doesn’t shine, superficial coatings And yet, from everywhere, I’ll be screaming

MY SPIRIT IS GREATER THAN MY BODY, IT BURNS ON AND ON, UNTIL I COMMIT ARSON ON YOUR ABUSIVE THORNS I HOPE YOU GROW TO REGRET YOUR BIRTH, PRAY WHEN I HAUNT YOU, I HOPE YOU FEEL EVEN A TENTH OF MY CURSE ETERNAL GASOLINE BURNING, DOUSED YOUR EYES IN IT, I’LL SHINE SO BRIGHTLY YOU WON’T SEE NOTHING BUT YOUR MISERY

ETERNAL GASOLINE ETERNAL GASOLINE

[paragonrobits]

“Leave. Now.”

Doctor Zelin swallowed, feeling an unaccustomed spike of nauseating fear. Across from him, almost half a dozen towering beings that vaguely reminded him of a mix of crocodiles with turtles started down. Their faces were broad, the muscles heavy on the jawline (cybernetically enhanced, not biologically inborn), their backs massive humps covered in thick, articulated shells that moved with their motions for a surprising degree of flexibility. Even the smallest was nearly twice as wide as any human, and the largest several heads taller than him.

It was hard to read their flat, unemotive faces. The body language was tense, and their eyes were narrowed in open dislike.

He swallowed. “We’re here to help.”

The leader of the aliens, the one who had spoken, growled and took a step forward. The ground shook under their weight, and the doctor had a brief moment of sudden realization that if the approaching alien was so inclined, they could rip him apart as easily as he himself might tear apart wet tissue paper.

The air trembled with the potential for that very kind of sudden violence, and the fear was not entirely from his own side.

“We don’t want you here, human.” The leader of the aliens spoke now, more calmly, but with great effort. “We have told you this, repeatedly. We told you this when we denied your offers, we told you this when you put it up for legislation, and we told you when we denied permission to land, and you landed anyway.”

The doctor raised his hands beseechingly. In the back of his mind, he thought: It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It was going to be easy. We were supposed to help people.

Out loud he said, “Listen, please! We’re doctors, medical specialists! We’re not here to conquer or spread any kind of propaganda or put you under any kind of influence!”

The alien leader made a short, disbelieving rumble. It conveyed, I’ll believe it when I see it. The doctor winced; already humanity had developed a very bad reputation of essentially being hegemonic colonizers, though he hoped it hadn’t been on purpose. No doubt some blocs of human interest wanted the galaxy in thrall to humanity, either viewing their own cultures as subordinate and lesser than human dominance or simply reliant on humanity for everything.

Resentment, he realized at last. Even the most well meant of dominance is still dominance, and its child was resentment.

The alien leader leaned in. “Two dozen of my people,” they said.

The doctor winced.

They stared at each other.

The doctor broke the silence. “That was an accident-”

The alien leader stepped forward again. “You killed two dozen people with your negligence, recklessness, and flagrant arrogance.” They forced calm on themselves and spoke again. “You came here with your tools and your procedures and your knowledge, and cut my people open to reorder them in healthy ways, but somehow you neglected to consider the incredibly basic fact that WE’RE NOT FUCKING HUMAN. Our biologies are completely different and all you did was find new ways to murder us. Out of sentiment. Out of pity. Out of thinking you’re so much damn better than us that of course we can’t possibly take care of ourselves!”

The doctor swallowed and looked down. “I’m sorry,” he said, and it was all he could think to say.

The alien growled. “Ask the dead if ‘sorry’ means a damn thing.” They learned forward, the doctor knowing that he had lost the argument completely. “Now, to use a phrase I think your people coined: fuck OFF.”

They left, soon after.

Humanity has finally reached the stars and found out why no one had contacted us. The universe is in a sad state. As such, Doctors without Borders, Red Cross, and many othe charities go intergalactic.

[cheepuppp]

Activism & Protest: How Social Media Sparks (and Complicates) Revolutions

Can a hashtag change the world? Social media sure makes it seem like it. From #BlackLivesMatter to #StopAsianHate, hashtags have become rallying cries for global movements. They mobilize protests, expose injustices, and amplify voices that traditional media often ignores. But here’s the thing: while social media is a powerful tool for activism, it’s also a minefield of challenges. Let’s dive into how platforms like Twitter and Facebook are reshaping activism, for better, for worse, and for everything in between.

The Power of Going Viral: How Social Media Drives Movements

One of the best things about social media? It turns everyday people into activists overnight. Take the Hong Kong protests, for example. When the government started cracking down, protesters used Twitter and encrypted apps like FireChat to organize rallies without getting caught (Mahtani, 2019). Even when the internet was blocked, they found workarounds with mesh networks, basically offline communication systems that couldn’t be traced (Koetsier, 2019). Talk about innovation.

In Myanmar, social media played a similar role. Protesters used Facebook to document human rights violations during the military coup, rallying international attention and solidarity (Banki, 2021). The posts were raw, heartbreaking, and impossible to ignore. Social media wasn’t just a tool for spreading the wor, it became a lifeline for people fighting for democracy.

And let’s not forget the #StopAsianHate movement in the U.S. When anti-Asian violence spiked during the pandemic, hashtags like #StopAsianHate and #COVIDRacism brought communities together. Abidin and Zeng (2020) explain how these hashtags did more than raise awareness, they gave people a safe space to share their stories and demand change.

The Risks: When Social Media Bites Back

But here’s the catch: the same platforms that empower activists can also be used against them. In Hong Kong, protesters had to wear masks and ditch their phones to avoid being tracked by surveillance tech (Walters & Smith, 2019). In Myanmar, the military turned Facebook into a propaganda machine, spreading fake news to discredit the protestors (Shao, 2019). And let’s not forget how algorithms work, they prioritize engagement, which often means pushing the most divisive content to the top of our feeds. That’s great for outrage clicks, but terrible for nuanced discussions.

Sigal and Biddle (2015) caution against putting social media on a pedestal. Yes, it’s a powerful tool, but it’s not a silver bullet. Censorship, surveillance, and misinformation are real threats, and they can undermine even the most passionate movements.

The Wildcard: K-Pop Fans and the New Wave of Activism

Now, here’s where things get really interesting. Activism isn’t just happening in traditional spaces, it’s spilling into fandoms. Yes, fandoms. K-pop stans are some of the most organized communities on the internet, and they’ve started using their skills for social justice. During the Black Lives Matter protests, BTS fans raised over $1 million for the cause, rallying behind the hashtag #MatchAMillion (Cho, 2018).

This kind of “fan activism” (Jenkins & Shrestova, 2012) is a game-changer. It shows that digital communities whether they’re built around music, memes, or activism have the power to mobilize for real-world impact. Who knew streaming BTS’s latest album and fighting for justice could go hand-in-hand?

Personal Reflection

I’ll admit it, I used to think sharing hashtags and liking posts didn’t really count as activism. But during the #StopAsianHate movement, I found myself retweeting stories, signing petitions, and even joining online discussions about how to help. It felt small at first, but it also made me realize the ripple effect of social media. One share can lead to ten, then a hundred, and suddenly you’ve got a movement.

That said, I’ve also seen the limits. Clicking “share” is easy; showing up to protests or making donations takes more effort. Social media is a great starting point, but the real challenge is turning those clicks into action.

Conclusion

Social media has completely transformed activism. It gives marginalized voices a platform, connects global communities, and turns hashtags into rallying cries. But it’s not perfect. The risks of surveillance, censorship, and slacktivism are very real, and not every hashtag leads to lasting change.

Still, the potential is undeniable. Movements like #StopAsianHate, the Hong Kong protests, and K-pop fan activism show us that when digital communities come together, they can achieve incredible things. The challenge now is to take that online energy and make it count offline because that’s where revolutions really happen.

References

Abidin, C., & Zeng, J. (2020). Feeling Asian Together: Coping With #COVIDRacism on Subtle Asian Traits. Social Media + Society. https://doi.org/10.1177/2056305120948223

Banki, S. (2021). Thanks to the Internet, we know what's happening in Myanmar. But a communication blackout may be near. The Conversation.

Cho, M. (2018). 3 Ways that BTS and its Fans are Redefining Liveness. Flow: A Critical Forum on Media and Culture, 24. http://www.flowjournal.org/2018/05/bts-and-its-fans/

Jenkins, H., & Shrestova, S. (2012). Up, up and away! The potential of fan activism. Transformative Works and Cultures, 10. https://doi.org/10.3983/twc.2012.0435

Mahtani, S. (2019). Masks, cash and apps: How Hong Kong's protesters find ways to outwit the surveillance state. The Washington Post. https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/asia_pacific/masks-cash-and-apps-how-hong-kongs-protesters-find-ways-to-outwit-the-surveillance-state/2019/06/15/8229169c-8ea0-11e9-b6f4-033356502dce_story.html

Shao, G. (2019). Social media has become a battleground in Hong Kong's protests. CNBC. https://www.cnbc.com/2019/08/16/social-media-has-become-a-battleground-in-hong-kongs-protests.html

Sigal, I., & Biddle, E. (2015). Our Enduring Confusion About the Power of Digital Tools in Protest. Fibreculture Journal, 26. https://twentysix.fibreculturejournal.org/fcjmesh-007-our-enduring-confusion-about-the-power-of-digital-tools-in-protest/