#lost boys propaganda

[pherryt]

Chapter 9 -Beware of Bored Monsters (Xellos - Slayers)

Wordcount: 2104

Slayers was one of my first Animes and has always been one of my faves, but it took a bit for me to figure out how to work them in here. All I really knew was that, as @unforth and @li-izumi had basically said "When in doubt, Xellos" so I followed that.

If you've never seen Slayers, Lina is a redheaded sorceress with some moral ambiguity and quite a bit of notoriety. Gourry is a genius swordsman but otherwise the 'dumb blonde' trope (though it's possible he's playing that up). Xellos is a monster with motives of his own that he never reveals, but sometimes he helps Lina and sometimes he's against her. Either way, he loves mischief… so be prepared to see him trying to start some.

Teaser:

It’d been a while since Xellos had dropped in on Lina and the gang, and he was feeling a bit bored.

He decided not to reveal himself too early, however. He often hovered around them invisibly, waiting for the most opportune timing. The gag was essential to his entrances and went a long ways to staving off his boredom. It never failed to cheer him up then when Lina went into a full on eye twitching rage while he pretended to be completely oblivious.

Though no one could pull off obliviousness half so well as Gourry, who wasn’t quite as oblivious as he pretended to be. Gourry knew his strengths and weaknesses, and understood the value of being underestimated as well.

And who could blame him, anyway? In that company, it was probably safer to pretend to be dumber than he was.

Not that he was the sharpest claw when it came to his mind to begin with, but he’d turned his weakness into a strength, and Xellos could respect that.

He honed in on Lina’s energy, and the energy of the sword of light, and transported himself halfway across the continent, landing on a rooftop overlooking - of course - a restaurant. Their appetites certainly were insatiable. And legendary.

If Xellos ever suddenly became powerless - not likely - and he needed to find Lina, all he needed to do was follow the trail of their eating exploits.

[yourlocalabomination]

Saw this while in the middle to drawing Ted with a ponytail-

[imagionationstation]

“Eurghhh.”

“Owwwiie.”

“What-?”

“Okay, first thing’s first.” Leo states as he dusts off his plastron, scanning the area on unsteady legs. “Everybody’s intact?”

“Limbs, shell, brain, fingers, toes-” Mikey volunteers as he looks himself over. Raph immediately quips, “What brain?”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Of what? That hollow skull?”

“Good to know nobody’s hurt.” Their leader interrupts dryly. “Okay, next thing’s-”

Raph brushes away the last of the head fog, newly suspicious, “Where the shell are we?”

Leo frowns and Mikey chirps, “Yeah, can’t a turtle get some beauty sleep without waking up with a concussion on a hard floor?”

The concern and disguised anxiety is dismissed with the eldest’s hand flick. “Less important things later.”

Raph glares hard. Leo looks at the forming crowd around them. “Hostility in the area seems low.”

“Perfect time for some scary voice to ring out of a hidden speaker and announce a fight to the death.” Mikey offers brightly, cocking his head expectantly. Leo’s face twists, eyes darting about in a brief search for said-speakers. “Thank you, for that inspiring take.”

“No problem.”

“Oh no.” Raph scrambles to his feet, scooping up a blur of purple. His brothers recognize the familiar plush as he rapidly scans the area. “Donnie! DONNIE!”

Heads swerve in their direction. Leo clamps a hand over his mouth and drags him back from the crowd. “Stop, drawing attention to us.”

Raph tears out of his grip, whirling to face his brother. “No! Leo, he’s out there somewhere!” His eyes widen, pleading and panicked. “We have to find him!”

“Why?” Skeptic brows furrow, uncertain. “You think he has something to do with us spawning here?”

“Of course not!” Raph snarls as he squeezes the bear between tense fingers. “We should find him ‘cause he’s missing!”

“You don’t know he came here with us.” Leo attempts to soothe, but Raph wrenches his arm away. He brandishes the bear. “Yeah, I do!”

He looks to the crowd and then back to his brothers, eyes lit in determination. “And if you’re not going to help me, then I’ll just find him myself!”

“Don’t you-!”

Leo moves to grab him, but Raph’s faster.

Mikey appears at his side as their brother disappears into the crowd, declaring, “AFTER THAT TURTLE!”

Again, heads turn in their direction.

“Mikey, be quiet!”

His leader’s contradictory advice is happily ignored as Mikey grabs his arm and drags him in search of their two missing brothers.

@tmntseparatedaucompetition

[phoebepheebsphibs]

I tell you what, after the crossover finale my guys are gonna take the biggest, fattest nap ever

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

You are seriously my favorite blog right now. You opinions and meta for ikevamp are so spot on. You somehow are able to flush the characters more than the canon. I just wanted to say I appreciate all the time you put into your writings and I love everything you have written so far!!!!

In Comte and Leo we trust 🫡

Aww, thank you so much! 💛💛💛

Honestly I have no control over the brainworms, I feel like Ikevamp is so saturated with implications that extrapolating becomes so much natural fun for me. I started writing and analyzing (with no supervision to stop me, big mistake) and I'm still so fascinated with it. I can't believe it's been almost what...four years? Five years? Since I started playing the Japanese version where this all began. I'm frankly flattered a lot of people agree/like my takes, it makes sharing my work really rewarding in ways I never expected~

I don't always have time for more than Comte thirsting and silly quotes these days, but you're more than welcome to enjoy what I've curated here! I imagine I won't stop shitposting until the app is discontinued, and even then I'm not confident I'll shut up 🤣🤣🤣 Comte's the best baby girl I've ever known lmfao

o7 PUREBLOOD STAN OR BUST HELL YEAH!

[p2ii]

Istg one day I will write a full paper on Lloyd garmadon y'all don't understand how important he is just cause hes a lego. he is everything actually

anyway please vote lloyd on this random poll (no pressure)

[international-sunrise]

I LOST MY FEAR OF FALLING

CHAPTER 9/? : but i won't stop lying, and if you want, i'll keep on crying...

Fandom: 외모지상주의 | Lookism

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Hong Jae Yeol | Jay & Park Hyung Suk | Daniel, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Characters: Hong Jae Yeol | Jay, Park Hyung Suk | Daniel, Hong Jae Hye | Joy, Lee Jin Sung | Zack, Lee Eun Tae | Vasco

Additional Tags: Character Study, Relationship Study, Pre-Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Canon Compliant, Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, POV Hong Jae Yeol | Jay, Spoilers for Lookism

CHAPTER 9: BUT I WON'T STOP LYING, AND IF YOU WANT, I'LL KEEP ON CRYING...

Summary:

Hyungseok brings out a man he didn’t even know existed within him. One that laughs at stupid, cheesy jokes and likes the convenience store, hundred won ramyeon.

[uwu-twistedthorn-uwu]

Vote for Riddle/Azul in the semi finals of the Riddle shipping bracket so Azul can avenge Jade! @twstbracket

[faerociousbeast]

i hate fandom poll tournaments!! like actually

[yuumei-art]

Unreachable

Wandering mind, full of creation

Meandering lines, lost in elation 

Each stroke, I broke a little inside

Each fate, I hate. My will defied

I painted this in Feb 2022 about what it's like to be an artist with repetitive strain injury. In 2008, When I was 18, I made my first comic titled 1000 Words, it was about an artist helping a little girl with a broken family similar to my own. It received such positive feedback that I changed my Environmental Science major at UCBerkeley to Art major. Ever since then, my goal has been to tell stories with my art. Stories that are important to me. My next comic, Knite, was about a boy who wants to put the stars back into the polluted skies of China, my homeland. The comic after that, Fisheye Placebo, is a cyberpunk story about living in the age of technology, about fighting censorship and propaganda.

Unfortunately, I never got to finish Knite nor Fisheye Placebo. By the time I was 24, I was drawing day and night with no regards to my health. Not only did I get repetitive strain injury in my drawing hand, but my entire health suffered. My roommates had to rush me to the ER after fainting one night. I remember looking at my swollen right hand, my fingers like sausages, not even able to hold a pen, and just cry.

I've gone to the doctors and physical therapists. One told me I have Lupus (I do not), and another told me to put ice on it. More recently, I met a friend who happens to an amazing physical therapist and he was able to help me regain a lot of use of my hand. At my worst, I could only draw an hour a week, but now I am able to draw 2 hours a day. My hand is unlikely to fully heal, but I'm so grateful to regain what I have.

To my fellow artists who suffers the same, please know you're not alone. I can't promise that it'll get better, and it's cliche to say don't give up, but I want to keep hoping that no matter what the world throws at us, we will continue to make art.

[pherryt]

Chapter 4 - There's No Wrong Way (Zoro - Ocarina of Time)

Word count: 2716

Okay, first off - this might be my favorite art out of the bunch. I seriously went overboard on this and i might go back and make a REALLY nice version at some point. Now on to other thoughts!

The Lost Woods. Honestly, how could I even think to write a story about 2 lost boys who don't find the Lost Woods? One of the things I thought would be funny here, is if it was impossible for them to get lost in the Lost Woods. Like, whatever logic that makes that work is totally negated by their presence and they're not even trying.

Because, while in the playthough of the game, wrong turns can kick you OUT of the Lost Woods, it is heavily implied in the storyline that that isn't the usual course of events, and the non Kokiri who go in there never come out. 

So yeah, my thought was, what if they couldn't get lost in the Lost Woods? In fact, Saria gives them directions and Zoro goes the OPPOSITE WAY and they still wind up right where she told them to go. I even played with the idea of Mido deliberately sending them back in to get rid of them, but they keep coming back out scratching their heads, trying to figure out why they can't escape this Kokiri Village.

Teaser:

The two of them looked around. There were thick trees everywhere they looked – with trunks bigger around than Zoro could stretch his arms. Luffy, of course, could have done it, but that didn't count as a unit of measurement because Luffy broke all the rules.

The trees growth was so thick that the gaps between them looked almost carved out of them. In the tiny clearing they were in, there were four such gaps in a circle around them, each exactly the same distance apart, looking like nothing less than a freaking tunnel.

There were no signs, but the grass was clearly worn into pathways, each gap having its own, equally worn, path.

"I've been wondering," Ryoga said thoughtfully. "If you can be lost if you don't have a destination?"

Zoro thought about it. "We do have one though – home."

"Which is clearly not here," Ryoga said glumly.

Grunting, Zoro said, “Your point?”

“Well, we’ve got four choices ahead of us,” Ryoga said, gesturing at the tree tunnels. “And since we already know none of them can take us home, any choice we make doesn’t really matter. If they don't matter, then none of them can be wrong. So, if we know where we're not going, and don't care what's on the other side, does it count as being lost?"

“So, no wrong choices, huh?” Zoro mused. "Alright, let's go this way."

[very-straight-blog]

I feel physically sick from this scene. Aegon had just lost his child - his son and heir, the ray of light in his life. And all these people around him, some of whom are his family, don't sympathize with him and don't grieve for Jaehaerys, instead they coolly propose to make the boy's funeral an act of propaganda. And that expression on his face when he looks at everyone, as if asking for help and support, like: "Are you crazy? Do you understand what you're saying?" And he doesn't find any of it. I just see that he's on the verge of a panic attack.

Gif belongs to @barbieaemond

[ettadunham]

oh, and happy late non-failed-revolutionary national holiday to my fellow hungarians

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader

“Are you sure it’s not too cold?” 

“It’s fine.” You glance down at Emmaline in the stroller, wrapped up in a blanket over her little winter jacket, fuzzy wool hat pulled down around her ears. “It’s not nearly chilly enough to be concerned. She’s probably overdressed, to be honest. In Norway, they leave babies outside to sleep in much colder temperatures.” 

“Why?” He keeps pace beside you, strolling along the park’s walking path leisurely, trying to keep his heart rate normal every time your hip bumps his thigh, or you nudge him with your elbow. 

“It helps their immune system, I think. Exposes them to the germs in their environment, allows them to build resistance, or something. Plus, the climate there is naturally cold? So, I think it helps acclimatize them. Pretty sure some people say they sleep better.” 

“That’s… brave of them.” He doesn’t know what else to say, he can’t imagine trusting the world enough to leave a baby, leave Emma, outside to sleep. 

“It’s different, I guess, when you have a ‘village’,” you use air quotes around the word village, and regret flashes across your eyes. “when you trust your community. Rely on them.” He doesn’t expect the longing that rings in your voice, the doleful, twisted tone of loss, a mournful sentiment that has him nearly pulling up short, slowing to a stop to tilt his head in consideration, his eyes above the mask zeroed in on yours until you’re giving him a meek smile and shrug. “Anyway,”

“Sweet-“ 

“I feel like we’re always talking about me or Emma. How about you? How was your week?” You pause, something occurring to you, pushing your lips forward with curiosity. “I know you said you travel for work, but I don’t think you ever told me what you did?” Shit. He’s not ready for this. He tries to recall how he practiced it with Johnny, the words that they agreed upon, the approach he would take. 

“Ye gotta make it sound at least somewhat normal, LT. Make her feel safe about it.”

“’m not goin’ lie to her.” 

“It’s not lyin’. Just, use the official language. The propaganda stuff, y’know.” 

He knows what he’s supposed to say, the lengthy spiel about ‘managing global conflict’ and ‘identifying and neutralizing domestic and global threats’, the words Johnny had suggested, but instead, what comes out is; “I’m uh, in the military. In a multi-national spec ops task force that focuses on counter terrorism. We operate from of a base just outside the city.” The park bustles around the three of you, runners and walkers circumventing where you’ve slowed to a crawl on the crushed gravel path, families tugging at one another, boys and girls hopping with excitement over promises from their parents. 

“That’s… interesting.” You say the words slowly, like you’re mulling them over, considering them. “Is it dangerous?” 

“Only sometimes.” You raise an eyebrow like you don’t believe him, skepticism plain as day, and he concedes. “It’s not a desk job, but I’m very good at it.” He wants to reassure you, desperate to keep the hope alive that’s been building in his heart for you, needs you to feel safe with him. The water is in sight now, ducks and swans floating on top of the glass like surface, waiting for their offerings that come from so many that frequent their little lake, every day. You motion to an empty bench, turning the stroller in it’s direction, his breath still caught in his chest, lack oxygen starting to make him feel woozy. Say something. Say anything. 

“Emmaline’s dad had a dangerous job too.” You unbuckle her from the stroller, cradling her in your lap as you nestle into one end of the bench, eyes fixed on the group of ducks closest to the shore. “And he was good at it.” 

“Is that how you lost him?” He concludes softly, the question as gentle as he can voice it. You don’t look at him, but he can see the change in your face, tears welling at the corners of your eyes, posture curling over your baby. 

You only nod, but it’s enough. Enough for him to slide a little closer, pressing the outside of his leg to yours. Enough that your free hand wanders, fingers brushing against the fabric of his jeans, your face lifting from the water to his with a question. 

“Can you hold her? While I get the biscuits?”

“Of course.” You shift her into his arms, and he straightens her so that she’s sitting up against his chest, crook of his arm supporting her head, other hand flush with her belly. You rummage inside the bag that’s shoved under the stroller, Emma’s backpack, and she coos at you from Simon’s arms. “Is that your mum?” He murmurs, and she gurgles something in response, a happy string of sounds that has his heart warming inside his chest. “Yeah, that’s her huh?” You straighten, bag in your hand, watching him and Emma, sad expression turning beatific, bittersweet smile pulling at your lips. 

“Come on.” You don’t reach for the baby, instead motioning for Simon to follow you, trusting him to carry her down behind you, to hold her as you as break up the little pieces of biscuit. “I promised her some ducks.” 

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #11

It's an innocent ("please," Jason sneers, "there's nothing innocent about a plagiaristic propaganda machine encouraging minors to dance for sick ol' pervs while it spews misogynistic hate speech.'"

"okay, boomer,"

"the fuck did you just call me, replacement?") TikTok, one of those ones that kind of simmers in the background for a few weeks until someone with a decent enough following posts it on the Platform Formerly Known as Twitter and from there it seriously catches traction, blowing up until Tim knocks on Bruce's office door, phone in hand. Damian stands behind him, arms crossed and clearly simmering.

Bruce, fresh off a series of zoom conferences, raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, so you haven't seen it," Tim decides, striding forward.

Bruce's eyebrow jumps a smidge higher, on the edge of concern, as Tim thrusts his phone into his grasp.

"So," he begins, reaching over to refresh the mobile page "there's a video that's been making the rounds on Twitter and—well you should probably see it," He sighs over Damian's scoff as he clicks through the pop-up asking him to sign in or join TikTok, and presses "Watch Again", unmuting the video.

🎶 "Doo, badoo-badoo-badoo Badoo-badoo-badoo-badoo,"🎶 an upbeat background song hums as someone, presumably a student, films a school hallway with their phone. They walk past students talking near their lockers, some of whom flash peace signs and silly grins as the camera swings their way before continuing on.

But the main point Bruce gets stuck on is the all lowercase white text at the center of the screen that an automated woman's voice awkwardly narrates:

"when you go to school with bruce wayne's other long lost lovechild"

The student filming comes up behind a much taller student who faces away from him, in conversation with a black haired pale teenaged girl. She spots the cameraman and shoots him a confused, disgruntled look, saying something to the boy who then turns around.

Bruce quietly observes as the camera zooms in on a boy around Tim's page, possibly older. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a strong jaw, he raises an eyebrow at the one filming, looking beyond the camera, pitch black hair with blue undertones falling into his blue eyes. The camera momentarily zooms too far into those eyes then abruptly pulls back as he quirks a puzzled smile at the viewer, mouthing out an easily understandable "hi?".

The TikTok ends and seamlessly transitions to a person balancing their cat on an exercise ball with minimal success and this time Bruce presses the Watch Again button. The heart on the right side claims 750k likes.

Damian scoffs, louder, as it ends. "Clearly it is a hoax, but it has been popular among my classmates."

"The board hasn't made much noise about it—" Tim starts.

"And they won't," Bruce says, lifting his eyes from his phone. "Wayne Industries doesn't give statements on videos like these, no matter how viral they become. I've been getting lovechild claims since before I adopted Dick."

Which Tim knows, which is why his insistence on showing Bruce this one raises his hackles. He pins Tim down with a stare and despite Tim's perfected PR mask, he can see Tim is unsettled.

"B...he really, really looks like you." Tim admits. Damian scoffs for a third time and Tim shoots him a glare, "I get it, you don't see it, but you haven't seen the pictures of Bruce when he was younger."

"I don't need to!" Damian says angrily. "You're all being ridiculous!"

"All?" Bruce asks. Tim shifts awkwardly. "The family group chat has been talking," he says.

"I see," Bruce says. Because he does. Many claim Damian to be his doppelganger, but the boy actually favors Talia not just in skin tone but in the shape and color of his eyes, as well as the soft slope of her mouth and ears. Whether those features will sharpen once he goes through puberty is anyone's guess.

But this young man has Bruce's eyes. Martha's eyes.

That night they have a suspiciously full house for dinner, with even Jason dropping in, but no one says anything until Barbara wheels in for dessert, carrying a manila folder on her lap.

"What?" she says, when everyone stares. "Dick told me it was crème brûlée today!"

Bruce extends a hand wordlessly, and Barbara sheepishly hands the folder over.

"Bruce," she says, before he can open it, "I wouldn't have looked into this normally, but,"

"Just say it," Jason says, leaning back in his chair. "Take away the gray hairs, the receding hairline, and the wrinkles and the kid's a dead match."

"Take it back, Todd," Damian growls, "Father has a very full head of hair!"

"Not to mention a failed track record at keeping it in his pants, Exhibit A," Jason continues, pointing a fork at Damian, "oh wait," he says gleefully, "kid is definitely 18, so I guess that would make you Exhibit B!"

The table erupts, cutlery tinkling as Damian gets a knee up on the table to hurl himself at a cackling Todd, Dick jumping up to grab him as the others lean out of the way—

"Ahem!" Everyone stops cold as Alfred stands in the doorway, porcelain ramekins of crème brûlée stacked perfectly on a silver tray. Under his gaze, everyone sits back down, Damian and Jason both quietly uttering a "Sorry Alfie/Alfred," as they straighten up.

Bruce is oblivious to the chaos, Barbara biting her lip beside him as he stares blankly inside the folder at the printed copy of an adoption certificate.

Two days and several million likes later, another TikTok goes viral from the same user. Caught in the moment as whoever is filming runs up to the group, the same young man is chatting with a blonde in a red letterman jacket, a partially formed crowd around them. Even with one leg still in the cafeteria table, he towers over everyone.

"—sh. Look, we're all possibly Bruce Wayne's son!" the boy snarks. He has his hands out, palms up as if he's making a great point, and as he looks around he catches sight of the cameraman and his smirk drops.

"Ah Mac, c'mon dude not again—" and the TikTok ends.