#die and not be discovered for 22 days

[ryan-sometimes]

Reminder that famous conservative figures are con artists. “Alpha male" influencers like Andrew Tate deliberately isolate you and exploit your loneliness for profit. They teach men ideals that make them repulsive to women, and then sell them "solutions" to make women like them, which obviously fail. Andrew Tate doesn't want you to become a "sigma male", he wants you lonely and miserable because that's when you're most dependent on him. Conservative influencers take advantage of ignorance and loneliness, and this is the end result.

[knife-enby]

[devieuls]

ˋ Haunted .✵

Qimir x Ex Jedi Fem Reader < SERIES >

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Sith Lord Qimir x Fem ex Jedi Reader.

(during the series)

SMUT: Dirty Talk; Fangs; Bites; fingering; Blood; Spit; Jealousy and Possessiveness; Foreplay; violence; Swearing; Teasing; Unprotected Sex; betrayal; slut shaming; oral sex; dacryphilia; outdoorsex; jealousy BDSM. Dom Qimir ANGST: toxic relationship, self-harm, derealization, suffering, Requited / Unrequited love, prejudices, bullying and insults. There will be flashbacks in this series

Aged characters: Qimir 35 y.o / You 22 y.o.

Synopsis: In a twisted web of light and darkness, two opposites are facing each other, dancing on a thin thread called fate. What happens when light and darkness dance on a wire called destiny, two eternal opposites that inevitably attract each other and create something perfectly powerful and chaotic to unite the power of two in one? The answer emerges in a journey of tension and attraction, where yin and yang discover that their opposition is nothing but a reflection of a deep and unexpected connection. This is the story of how destruction is akin to peace, how the moon one day decided to save the sun, how darkness is not so dark and evil so bad. A journey towards change and desire, where opposing forces merge into a future that no one could have predicted.

(Following some events of the series)

Lenght: 4.9k

TW: THE SERIES WILL BE FULL OF DELICATE TOPICS!

⇠ Previous chapter ✵ Next Chapter ⇢

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

Chapter I: The Abyss of Temptation

(The shuttle landed silently on the verdant surface of the planet Khofar, a wild jewel among the worlds of the Outer Rim Territories. As the hatch opened, a wave of humidity enveloped the Jedi, carrying with it the intense scent of damp earth and the exotic fragrance of the lush vegetation. The forest stretched out before them like an endless sea of green, where the trees rose like ancient towers, their massive trunks covered in layers of gleaming moss. The thick, intertwined canopies above them created a natural roof, allowing only faint rays of light to filter through, speckling the ground with golden patches. Khofar was a living, wild planet, and they were only temporary visitors, intruders in an ancient and balanced ecosystem. Every rustle among the leaves, every distant call, was a warning. A premonition or prelude to what the day would bring.)

If only you had known in advance that your teammates would die one by one before your eyes as you returned from the hut where Jedi Master Kelnacca lived, you would have thought twice before agreeing to the mission. You had fought against the Sith who killed your friends, battling with anger and bitterness, in a grief too fresh to fully comprehend. In the end, the pain of your body hitting the hard ground was nothing compared to the searing agony in your side from a nearly fatal wound. Your vision began to blur, and you could only see footsteps approaching before everything faded to black.

You awoke slowly, as if emerging from a hibernation that had lasted for years. Your eyes opened with difficulty, greeted by a nearly suffocating gloom. The dim light of a few torches was the only source of illumination within what seemed to be a cave. The rocky walls, uneven and cold, seemed to loom over you. You felt weak, every movement was a struggle, and a dull pain throbbed in your side. You tried to sit up, but your injured side forced you back down, a hiss of pain escaping your lips. You brought a trembling hand to the wound and felt the rough texture of the bandages wrapped around the torn flesh. Despite the agony, the wound had apparently been cleaned and treated with care. Someone had taken the time to tend to it, to ensure it would heal, though it was still far from being fully recovered. You looked around, trying to piece together fragments of memory that crowded your mind. You remembered your friends' deaths, Sol screaming, your lightsaber changing color, and a battle. You recalled the fierce confrontation with the Sith, your fall, and the darkness that enveloped you. But beyond that, nothing. You had no idea how you had ended up in that cave, nor who had brought you there.

Your heart raced, panic beginning to seep into your thoughts. Were you a prisoner? And if so, who had shown such mercy to tend to your wounds? The most unsettling question was the most obvious: why hadn't the Sith eliminated you when he had the chance? A shadowy thought slithered into your mind, and the face of the Sith echoed in the depths of your being. The idea that he might have been the one to save you, to care for you, was as chilling as it was improbable. Yet, you couldn’t shake the possibility from your mind, no matter how absurd it seemed.

You dragged yourself out with great effort, and through the blinding light, you saw the silhouette of a man, barely identifiable. You followed him stealthily, still holding your side and trying to endure the pain from the wound. For a moment, you lost sight of him, only to find him again shortly after, immersed in a pool of water in what seemed to be a coastal area with black sand you couldn’t identify. Your eyes fell on the figure facing away from you, submerged in the water, his muscles relaxed, his raven hair wet and slicked back. To your eyes, the man seemed completely unaware of your presence, though he appeared to have a vigilant awareness of the surrounding area. You moved silently among the rocks and vegetation, observing your target until your gaze fell upon a pile of clothes near the shore, where the deactivated lightsaber lay. With swift and somewhat precise movements, you approached the lightsaber. Tension mounted inside you as you crouched to pick it up, aware that any sound could betray your presence. You grasped the metallic object and assumed an attack position as the man began to speak, still with his back turned while he calmly washed himself.

"how does it feel?" he said, turning towards you. You recognized him immediately. The mere sight of his face sparked rage within you. "Pleasant, don't you think?" His tone was a piercing screech to your ears. You gritted your teeth, not responding, remaining in your attack stance. "Your stance is good despite the wound on your side, but your elbows are a real mess. I had my doubts when we fought last time, and now I see why it was so easy to defeat you. Your elbows are too low; you should keep one higher, you know?" he continued, observing you. "…To block more quickly and strike with more precision." He took a brief pause. "Since you don’t know how to use the Force, you should learn to block better," he concluded, stepping out of the water, now only a few steps away from you.

"Don’t move," your stance changed, now aiming the off lightsaber directly at him. Your gaze was sharp and cold. "If you don’t want to join me, at least let me put my clothes on" he said. You took a slight step back, allowing him to exit the water. You swallowed, trying not to let your gaze fall on the naked, wet defined body of the man, keeping in your mind that he was your enemy. You began to ponder whether it was appropriate to attack him now. But it was neither Jedi-like to strike a defenseless man nor to act in such a dishonorable manner. "Surely, you’re wondering if it’s honorable to kill me like this," he began, his tone different from the one used in battle. You swallowed. Your gaze fell for a second on his chest, and you cursed yourself for the terrible idea. "In battle it’s justified, but days later isn’t it revenge?" he asked with a sarcastic tone, as if he already knew the answer. "And now you wonder if I can read your mind… and the answer is… no. Anger betrays your thoughts" he continued, dressing himself as if you weren’t pointing a weapon at him. His gaze seemed oddly gentle, more delicate, almost innocent. So much so that he almost didn’t seem like the same man who had killed seven Jedi just a few nights before.

"Why did you bring me here? Why didn’t you kill me?" you asked, watching him sternly, uncertain of what to do next. "Am I your prisoner?" "Prisoner? You’re the one with a weapon" he said with an overly calm look and an obvious tone in his voice, as he walked back towards the cave, passing by you without fear. You followed him, teeth clenched. You wanted revenge on this man, but what a miserable person you would be to strike him from behind while he was unarmed. "If you keep me here, Sol will come for you. He’s found me before, and he’s powerful with the Force." Your voice sounded threatening, though not as forceful as you’d hoped due to the stabbing pain in your side. The man turned and looked at you with a puzzled expression. "Do you think he’s powerful with the Force? It’s you who’s powerful with the Force, y/n. Someone should teach you," he said. You were stunned for a few seconds, as he knew your name. To you, he was a stranger, but you didn’t seem to be as unknown to him. The stranger walked back into the cave, and you followed him, confused. "In what way am I powerful with the Force? You should know it’s something to be practiced. If you don’t train it, it fades" you said, your voice still sharp as you scrutinized the man who seemed so at ease in your presence. You had long abandoned being a Jedi, retreating shortly after becoming officially part of the Order. If it hadn’t been for your sister leaving a trail of blood wherever she went, you would have stayed far away from that world. You had lost every Force ability, not having practiced it for many years. You vaguely remembered how to use a lightsaber, thanks to Sol, who had helped you recall the skills during the time you spent together, training with his young Padawan Jecki.

The stranger was seated next to what appeared to be a small campfire, while you kept your distance. He tasted the food he was cooking. You didn’t trust him; something about him made you suspicious, aside from the fact that he had decimated your team. "You know… The Jedi teach that there’s only one way to access the Force, and if you don’t do it their way, it fades. But there’s another way," he said gently, turning his gaze toward you. "Beneath the surface of consciousness, there are powerful emotions." "Anger. Fear. Loss…" he slowly mentioned the emotions you had learned to suppress, as you had been taught in the Order during your time as a Jedi Padawan. "…desire." The last emotion was spoken almost in a whisper as he took on a more serious and penetrating expression. You swallowed, observing him with disdain, though you subconsciously held your breath as he listed the emotions. "That’s the path to the dark side," the words came out acridly from your mouth.

The man’s expression darkened for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a mocking smile. "semantics… You Jedi are so closed-minded," he replied, turning back to the fire, stirring the stew he was cooking. "The light side isn’t the only way to access the Force. The dark side… amplifies emotions. It’s just another way to access the Force. A way… to freedom." His convincing tone almost seemed reasonable, though it was contrary to your way of thinking. "You killed my friends," your gaze grew even sharper and more bitter, as your hand still gripped the hilt of the deactivated lightsaber, seeking comfort in the familiar cold metal. The Sith’s words were like poison seeping into your mind, exploiting the insecurities you had always tried to suppress. "Friends? That’s what you call people who come to seek you only in moments of need and then ignore your existence?" His voice was laced with a mix of disdain and feigned compassion. Every word from this man was a blade sinking into your soul, touching raw nerves you had tried to ignore. You had been trained to combat fear, anger, desire—all emotions that, if left unchecked, could lead you down the dark path. But at that moment, you felt the internal storm growing, fueled by suffering and loss, a mourning.

"War isn’t pretty, y/n, sometimes…" he began, his voice dropping to a near-whisper as he stood up, beginning to walk toward you with determined steps, never breaking eye contact. "Sacrifices must be made for a greater good." He stopped just inches from you, his penetrating gaze studying you with a mix of cynicism and desire, as if challenging you to contradict him. Every fiber of his being radiated an irresistible force, a magnetism that seemed to envelop him like a shadow. He leaned slightly toward you, his warm breath brushing against your skin as his lips dangerously neared your ear. "Your friends," he whispered with a cold, almost contemptuous tone, "were just collateral damage." His words were like sharp knives—cutting and relentless—but the seductive tone with which he spoke betrayed an unsettling intimacy, as if he were confiding a dark secret that only you could understand.

The stranger leaned back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. His dark eyes, deep as an abyss, stared at you with an intensity that seemed to penetrate directly into your soul. His face was close, too close, and his expression was serious, almost sorrowful, but there was no trace of remorse—only a dark understanding. "Why do you love people who can only go so far?" His voice dropped further, becoming a near-confidential whisper. "Who can’t go as deep as you can?" His gaze was intense, his eyes locked onto yours with an expression that seemed to reveal far more than his words had. There was a hidden desire, a need struggling to surface, but the man skillfully masked it, maintaining a subtle balance between cynicism and seduction.

You held your breath, feeling the weight of his words and his proximity. You knew that behind those words lay a darkness trying to corrupt you, but his allure was dangerously real. Your mind was conflicted, torn between repulsion at the Sith’s cynicism and the irresistible magnetism surrounding him. The man gave you a slight smile, a smile that never quite reached his eyes, as he pulled back just a few centimeters, leaving you teetering between temptation and inner struggle. "Maybe, y/n," he added in a mellifluous voice, "you’re destined for something more… something greater… something that I can show you." "I’m not my sister. I’m not so easily corrupted," you said, looking him straight in the eyes, trying to maintain control over yourself. Every fiber of your being struggled to suppress the tumultuous emotions the stranger had tried to awaken in you. Your heart pounded loudly, betraying you, but your face remained impassive, covered by a studied veil of disgust. With a slow, deliberate motion, you took a step back, putting distance between you, your gaze charged with superiority and defiance.

Qimir observed you with an impassive expression, but behind his dark eyes was growing interest, a sort of admiration for your resilience. To him, you were not like the other Jedi he had encountered, too weak or easily swayed. In you, he saw a potential acolyte, someone with an inner strength that could be nurtured and guided toward an even greater power. A subtle smile appeared on his lips, a nearly imperceptible curve that betrayed his pleasure at seeing you so determined. "You’re not like your sister, that’s true," he admitted with a tone that seemed both a compliment and a challenge. He took a step toward you, closing the space between you once more, but this time with an even more calculated calm, like a hunter who knows its prey. "But don’t mistake your determination for invulnerability," he continued, his voice soft and sharp as a blade. "The force you suppress within you, the force you’ve learned to stifle, is what could make you great—much greater than the Jedi could ever imagine. I see in you a potential that goes beyond the limitations of their dogma, and that is what frightens them." He stopped just a few steps from you, his gaze locked on yours, trying to pierce through the mask you had erected. "I’m not here to corrupt you," he whispered, his voice almost persuasive. "I’m here to offer you a choice, a path that the Jedi have always denied you. A road to a freedom you don’t yet know." You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you refused to show any weakness to him.

"I don’t need your freedom," you replied coldly, your voice steady despite the internal turmoil. "Your whispers don’t touch me. I know who I am and what I represent." "So sure of yourself" he murmured, with a tone that seemed to appreciate your determination. "But what do you truly represent, y/n? A Jedi struggling against her own nature, stifling the potential that could make her truly powerful? Oh… perhaps I should say, ex-Jedi?" he asked with ironic amusement, towering over your figure. You clenched your teeth, pointing the hilt of the deactivated lightsaber at his stomach.

He tilted his head slightly, amused, his gaze growing more penetrating as he sought to reach that part of you he knew existed—the part that thirsted for knowledge, power, something more. “You feel the Force, you perceive it in ways that even the Jedi cannot understand. And you know there is a greater, deeper power calling you. It is not betrayal to explore that possibility. It is… evolution.” His words, spoken with such conviction, seemed to echo in the cave, breaking through the barriers you had erected to protect yourself. You raised your lightsaber to meet the man's neck. “Do it… light it” he ordered, his tone of challenge making your blood boil. The Sith, on the other hand, seemed delighted by your anger, his sharp and contemptuous smile only fueling the tension. Qimir merely tilted his head slightly to the side, offering his neck completely to you, his penetrating gaze fixed on the lightsaber you pointed at him, waiting for the moment you would decide to ignite it.

“A Jedi… does not attack the unarmed" you said through gritted teeth, your voice a murmur of frustration and determination. Your mind was a tumult of emotions, but your will to remain true to your principles was steadfast. “Do you still think you’re a Jedi?” he asked, his voice low and enveloping, almost hypnotic. “Don’t you remember how your lightsaber changed color the last time? Do you still believe you must adhere to a code you’re questioning within yourself?” Those words hit like a punch to the stomach, evoking images you would have preferred to forget. The blade of your lightsaber, once glowing a pure blue, had trembled, taking on red hues like those of the man before you. You took a step back, your heart racing, desperately trying to put space between you and that voice which seemed to read into you with ruthless precision. But the man gave you no respite. His hand moved with surprising speed, gripping your arm in a gentle yet firm hold. His fingers closed around your wrist, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you from withdrawing the saber from his neck. The contrast between the contained strength of his touch and the relaxed calm of his face left you breathless.

His penetrating gaze was fixed on your eyes, a subtle yet relentless challenge. “You know yourself that after what’s happened you couldn’t return to the Jedi even if you wanted to,” he whispered, his tone charming and confident, as if he had already won this silent battle. “Sol has seen it, don’t believe that after succumbing to rage and revenge you can return to a position that no longer belongs to you.” You felt trapped, not so much by his hand holding you but by the words resonating inside you. His words seemed to challenge every certainty you had until that moment. Every fiber of your being wanted to reject him, but there was something in his tone, in the way he looked at you, that made you doubt, even if just for a moment. Qimir moved closer, his warm breath against your skin, each movement calculated with lethal precision. “It’s not a matter of principles, y/n,” he continued, his tone now almost seductive. “That pain, that anger… this is what you are.” Your breath grew irregular, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to maintain control. “Let me go.” you threatened, your voice a low growl, but you knew there was a shadow of hesitation you couldn’t hide.

“Sol saw it… the Jedi saw it” he continued, his tone now softer but laden with cruel truth. “And for that, they will throw you away, again.” His piercing gaze cut into you, as your eyes took on an expression of anger and fear at his words. You felt his words like a sharp blade piercing through your defenses, and your gaze hardened, but you couldn’t hide the flicker of fear in your eyes. The fear that, deep down, he might be right. The fear that your Order, those you would give your life to protect, might indeed see you as a threat, something to be eliminated. The Sith sensed that shift within you, and his gaze became even more penetrating, probing every corner of your mind. It was as if he could see every weakness, every hidden thought, and he used them with a terrifying skill. “You can’t hide from what you are, y/n. The dark side isn’t a weakness… it’s your strength. And you know it.” You gritted your teeth, disgust and anger mixing into an explosive blend that pushed you closer to the edge. He seemed to know exactly which buttons to press; every word, every look was a sharp blade striking at your raw nerves. The tension inside you grew, turning into a knot that threatened to snap. Until you could no longer hold it back, and it was in that moment that you ignited the lightsaber, the glowing blade just a breath away from his neck. “It won’t be like that,” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper, desperately trying to stay calm, though your eyes betrayed the mask of confidence you wore. “I will not succumb to the dark side.”

The man remained still, his mocking smile slowly widening as his eyes stayed fixed on yours, as if he were looking through you, reading every hidden thought. He swallowed slowly, a gesture that seemed almost like an invitation, a further provocation. The blade of your saber illuminated his face, but there was no trace of fear in his eyes, only a cold calm. “It’s not something you have to give in to… it’s inside you,” he said with that velvety voice of his, each word a whisper insinuating doubt into your certainties. His words struck you like a blow to the heart, breaking that fragile barrier you were desperately trying to maintain. “Your potential is immense,” he continued, lowering his voice to a warm, almost intimate whisper. Your gaze grew sharper as the subtle poison in his words sought to seep into your consciousness. The lightsaber blade barely touched his skin without making contact, his calm expression only annoying you. It was as if the threat had no effect on him, as if he knew you would never have the courage to go through with it. Every movement he made was slow, deliberate, calculated to keep you on edge, playing with your emotions like a master puppeteer. Anger bubbled within you, a fire growing ever stronger, fueled by his words, his confident smile, the way he seemed to control everything. You couldn’t deny it; there was a part of you that wanted to give in, that wanted to let go of the anger, the pain that burned so intensely. And he knew it; you could feel it in his voice, see it in his eyes.

“I understand…” His voice was a seductive whisper, just above a breath, as his hand rose with studied slowness, approaching yours without ever touching it. His eyes, which had been filled with impenetrable confidence until now, took on a new light, something deeper, almost vulnerable. “I’ve lost everything, y/n…” His gaze now seemed sincere, almost pleading for some strange reason. “But when you lose everything,” he continued, his hand now resting on yours, which still gripped the cold lightsaber handle. The contact was surprisingly gentle, a light pressure, but enough to make you feel the warmth of his skin against yours. His grip was soft but firm, and the contrast between his words and the apparent gentleness of the gesture made you waver. “That’s when you’re truly free,” he concluded, his voice a whisper carrying an inescapable weight, an invitation to surrender, to let go of everything that still bound you to the light. His gaze locked onto your eyes, deep, almost pleading, but not for pity: for understanding, for sharing. It was as if he wanted you to see the world through his eyes, to understand that the dark side wasn’t a condemnation but a liberation. His words struck you forcefully, penetrating your defenses once again with lethal precision. It wasn’t just a mental game; there was something genuine in the pain that lingered in his voice, a shadow of loneliness that echoed your own torment. And in that moment, the Sith you had seen as an implacable enemy became a figure that seemed to understand your suffering, your anger.

“The anger you feel, the pain that consumes you… you don’t have to fight it,” he continued, his tone calm and inviting. The tension between you was thick, almost suffocating. You felt the dark side’s pull toward him, the promise of freedom shining like an irresistible temptation. But there was something more in that man, something human, making it harder to you to ignore. The sincerity in his gaze, his voice dropping to an almost intimate whisper, made you doubt your certainties. His hand, warm against yours, made you feel dangerously close to an abyss you weren’t sure you wanted to avoid. You remained still, analyzing his words in your mind. The lightsaber still tightly gripped in your hand, your teeth clenched as you swallowed before sighing, thinking about what you should do. You deactivated the lightsaber and stepped away from him, pressing the hilt of the now-deactivated saber against his chest. You wouldn’t be deceived by his seductive words. You knew who you were and what you fought for. But, inside, a small part couldn’t help but wonder: what if he was right?

“You don’t know me to tell me these things. And as I’ve said, I’m not corruptible like my sister,” You hissed, your voice charged with a tension the man couldn’t help but appreciate. He let his smile spread slowly across his face, watching with almost amused interest as you deactivated the lightsaber and then pressed the hilt against his chest. The determination in your eyes, the resolve in your gesture, fascinated him. It wasn’t the reaction he had expected, but there was something in you, an inner strength, a resilience that intrigued him deeply. He could see the internal struggle you were facing, the conflict between the Jedi code and the emotions he had deliberately stirred.

The Sith, with a slow and measured gesture, placed the hilt of the deactivated lightsaber on a nearby rock. The smile on his face shifted into a smirk of satisfaction. “Perhaps I know you better than you think,” he admitted, his voice soft and filled with an intensity that echoed in the silence of the cave, where only the crackling of the fire could be heard. “I see who you are… who you could be. Your strength, your will…” His steps continued to close the distance between you, and you took a step back, trying to maintain the space between you. He gently took your wrist and pulled you slightly towards him, towering over your smaller figure. He looked at you with what might have seemed like admiration or… desire. You held your breath, swallowing, paralyzed by what could be the gentlest yet most dangerous of predators. The man brought his face closer to yours, the distance between you reduced to mere centimeters, his breath mingling with yours, warm and slow. His touch was once again firm but never painful. His eyes, dark as the abyss, glowed with an intensity that slowly captivated you. You found yourself hanging on his lips, almost asking for permission to breathe regularly. “It is rare…” he concluded. You took a deep breath, and the tension between you was growing increasingly palpable. His tone was like sweet poison, flowing slowly through your veins, making you doubt once more everything you had always believed. His hand slowly moved from your wrist to your side, stopping just below your ribs, where the wound, though treated, still throbbed painfully. The contact, though light, made you flinch, a mix of pain and something else you couldn’t quite identify. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, the tension between you becoming almost unbearable.

“You’re still loyal to someone who didn’t think twice about abandoning you to the enemy on Khofar some nights ago…” You swallowed at his words, feeling the knot in your throat that blocked every word and the weight in your stomach. “Deep down, you’re still searching for a master, someone to guide you… That life, you’ve never truly felt it as your own; they never understood you,” he continued, his gaze fixed on your eyes as if he could see inside you, reading every thought, every hidden emotion. “But I can.” For a moment, you felt yourself falter at those words. The tension between you was palpable, and you could not take your eyes off what must be your enemy, although your mind tried to keep lucidity. Your breathing was slow and irregular, each breath an attempt to hold back an invisible and unknown force that seemed to want to overwhelm you. The knot in your throat was getting tighter, blocking the words you wanted to say. Your eyes were mesmerized. There was an incredible intensity in those foxy eyes, a mixture of fear and fascination that left your heart inexplicably throbbing and mind confused. You failed to swallow trying to make words come out to counter his claims

“You are like me…” he whispered a short distance from your lips.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Notes :

Well, yes, the sexy hot af villain who will be the protagonist of the new series is Him. Qimir, from The Acolyte. If you don’t know him, go and watch that series because Manny Jacinto put all his effort to seduce us towards the dark side. This is just the beginning, still do not know how many chapters will have but I hope not many, I would like to write about more topics for him.

if you haven’t seen the series there will be some spoilers, so please watch the series first

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚

[mostlysignssomeportents]

2600’s amazing Hackers on Planet Earth con may go down under enshittification

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

It's been 40 years since Emmanuel Goldstein launched the seminal, essential, world-changing 2600: The Hacker Quarterly. 2600 wasn't the first phreak/hacker zine, but it was the most important, spawning a global subculture dedicated to the noble pursuit of technological self-determination:

https://www.2600.com/

2600 has published hundreds of issues in which digital spelunkers report eagerly on the things they've discovered by peering intently at the things no one was supposed to even glance at (I'm proud to be one of those writers!). They've fought legal battles, including one that almost went to the Supreme Court:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DeCSS

They created a global network of meetups where some of technology's most durable friendships and important collaborations were born. These continue to this day:

https://www.2600.com/meetings

And they've hosted a weekly radio show on NYC's WBAI, Off the Hook:

https://wbai.org/program.php?program=76

When WBAI management lost their minds and locked the station's most beloved hosts out of the studio, Off the Hook (naturally) led the rebellion, taking back the station for its audience, rescuing it from a managerial coup:

https://twitter.com/2600/status/1181423565389942786

But best of all, 2600 gave us HOPE – both in the metaphorical sense of "hope for a better technological tomorrow" and in the literal sense, with its biannual Hackers On Planet Earth con:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hackers_on_Planet_Earth

For decades HOPE had an incredible venue, the Hotel Pennsylvania (memorialized in the phreak anthem "PEnnsylvania 6-5000"), a crumbling pile in midtown Manhattan that was biannually transformed into a rollicking, multi-day festival of forbidden technology, improbable feats, and incredible presentations. I was privileged to keynote HOPE in 2016:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1D7APjmVbk

But after the 2018 HOPE, the Hotel Pennsylvania was demolished to make way for the Penn15 (no, really) skyscraper, a vaporware mega-tower planned as a holding pen for luxury shopping and empty million-dollar condos sold to offshore war-criminals as safe-deposit boxes in the sky. The developer, Vornado (no, really) hasn't actually done all that – after demo'ing the Hotel Pennsylvania, they noped out, leave a large, unusable scar across midtown.

But HOPE wasn't lost. In 2022, the ever-resilient 2600 crew relocated to Queens, hosted by St John's University – a venue that was less glamorous that the Hotel Pennsylvania, but the event was still fantastic. Attendance fell from 2,000 to 1,000, but that was something they could work with, and reviews from attendees were stellar.

Good thing, too. 2600 is, first and foremost, a magazine publisher, and these have been hard years for magazines. First there was the mass die-off of indie bookstores and newsracks (I used to sell 2600 when I was a bookseller, and in the years after, I always took the presence of 2600 on a store's newsrack as an unimpeachable mark of quality).

Thankfully for 2600, their audience is (unsurprisingly) a tech-savvy one, so they were able to substitute digital subscriptions for physical ones:

https://www.2600.com/Magazine/DigitalEditions

Of course, many of those subscriptions came through Amazon's Kindle, because nerds were early Amazon adopters, and because the Kindle magazine publishing platform offered DRM-free distribution to subscribers along with a fair payout to publishers.

But then Amazon enshittified its magazine system. Having locked publishers to its platform, it rugged them and killed the monthly subscription fees that allowed publishers to plan for a steady output. Publishers were given a choice: leave Amazon (and all the readers locked inside its walled garden) or put your magazine into the Kindle Unlimited system:

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-dbs/arp/B0BWPTCP4K?deviceType=A1FG5NAKX0MRJL

Kindle Unlimited is an all-you-can-eat program for Kindle, which pays publishers and writers based on a system that is both opaque and easily gamed, with the lion's share of the money going to "publishers" who focus on figuring out how to cheat the algorithm. Revenues for 2600 – and all the other magazines that Amazon had sucked in and sucked dry – fell off a cliff.

Which brings me to the present moment. After 40 years, 2600 is still at it, having survived the bookstorepocalypse, the lunacy of public radio management, the literal demolition of their physical home by an evil real-estate developer, and Amazon's crooked accounting.

This is 2600, circa 2024, and 2024 a HOPE year:

https://www.hope.net/

Once again, HOPE has been scheduled for its new digs in Queens, July 12-14. Last week, HOPE sent out an email blast to their subscribers telling them the news. They expected to sell 500 tickets in the first 24 hours. They didn't even come close:

https://www.2600.com/content/hope-ticket-sales-update

It turns out that Google and the other major mail providers don't like emails with the word "hacker" in them. The cartel that decides which email gets delivered, and which messages go to spam, or get blocked altogether, mass-blocked the HOPE 2024 announcement. Email may be the last federated, open platform we have, but mass concentration has created a system where it's nearly impossible to get your email delivered unless you're willing to play by Gmail's rules:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/10/dead-letters/

For Emmanuel Goldstein, founder of 2600 and tireless toiler for this community, the deafening silence following from that initial email volley was terrifying: "like some kind of a "Twilight Zone" episode where everyone has disappeared."

The enshittification that keeps 2600's emails from being delivered to the people who asked to receive them is even worse on social media. Social media companies routinely defraud their users by letting them subscribe to feeds, then turning around to the people and organizations that run those feeds and saying, "You've got x thousand subscribers on this platform, but we won't put your posts in their feeds unless you pay us to 'boost' your content":

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/platforms-decay-lets-put-users-first

Enshittification has been coming at 2600 for decades. Like other forms of oddball media dedicated to challenging corporate power and government oppression, 2600 has always been a ten-years-ahead preview of the way the noose was gonna tighten on all of us. And now, they're on the ropes. HOPE can't sell tickets unless people know about HOPE, and neither email providers nor social media platforms have any interest in making that happen.

A handful of giant corporations now get to decide what we read, who we hear from, and whether and how we can get together in person to make friends, forge community, rabble-rouse and change the world. The idea that "it's not censorship unless the government does it" has always been wrong (not all censorship violates the First Amendment, and censorship can be real without being unconstitutional):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/04/yes-its-censorship/

What can you do about it? Well, for one thing, you can sign up for HOPE. It's gonna be great. They've got sub-$100 hotel rooms! In New York City!

https://store.2600.com/products/tickets-to-hope-xv

If you can't make it to HOPE, you can sign up for a virtual membership:

https://store.2600.com/products/tickets-to-hope-xv-virtual-attendee

You can submit a talk to HOPE:

https://www.hope.net/cfp.html

You can subscribe to 2600, in print or electronically (I signed up for the lifetime print subscription and it was a bargain – I devour every issue the day it arrives):

https://store.2600.com/collections/subscriptions-renewals

2600 is living a decade in the future of every other community you care about, weird hobby you enjoy, con you live for, and publication you read from cover to cover. If we can all pull together to save it, it'll be a beacon of hope (and HOPE).

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/19/hope-less/#hack-the-planet

[astriddestelle]

In light of discovering I’ve been a friends to lover girlie this whole time. Here’s are my top ten friends to lovers of all time canon and non canon.

1. The ship that started it all admittedly I liked Raven more so I shipped her with Robin, but my god Robin and Starfire were cute a whole ass ship I didn’t even realize I was shipping until they kissed in the movie and I was squealing like well I was a kid lol. My favorite episode aside from the Raven ones were always the ones focused on their relationship. Stranded was chefs kiss. I’m not a girl I’m not your friend. Date with Destiny had me gagged. Sisters the arm reach as she’s kidnapped beautiful. No other couple will compare.

2. God when this was airing what a time to be fucking alive. I was so obsessed with this ship. My first fanfic ideas were about this ship. I used to roleplay this show at school. They were so fucking messy with their just friends bullshit. Just friends my ass. I used to watch episode 22 routine on repeat and yes I have it memorized they almost kissed then spent the rest of series pretending they weren’t down bad for each other. They never actually made it official either which will forever haunt me to this day.

3. This one crept on me. I didn’t realize I shipped it until I shipped it and there was no going back. I mean come on. The look of love is literally their theme song. What do you mean Langa only likes skateboarding when Reki is there to watch and cheer him on. What do you mean Reki is afraid of Langa getting hurt not himself but Langa. Cindereki need I say more. The most casual friends to lovers cause they don’t even realize till the end. I went to skate infinitely with you who says stuff like that to someone they’re just friends with. How they adopt each others love languages through your the show. Ugh.

4. Alright imma be honest. This one started as me just wanting to read more Itadori fics but my god. If gege wasn’t a coward they would’ve been official (jk mostly) but Megumi only wanting to live a domestic life with Yuji, regaining the will to live after Yuji says he misses him, not having a reason for saving him not wanting him to die, start by saving me itadori…yeah. And itadori never giving up saving fushiguro, first words out of his mouth are always fushiguro, tells Sukuna to give fushiguro back. I mean how could I not.

5. Might be too early for me to be adding them to this list but so far Momo and Okarun have all the makings of being just as great as Robin and Starfire if not better. Two idiots sharing one brain cell the way they actually communicate with each other, Okarun getting salty when people insult his wifey, Momo getting jealous when people flirt with her husband. Okarun straight up telling Momo he can’t read her mind but he cares about her and values her friendship. Momo straight up saying she wants to talk to Okarun and loves hanging out with him. I’m into deep and it’s only been nine episodes. First time I’ve been this invested in a straight ship in years.

6. Back to the classics with this one. And I’m lowkey starting to sense a pattern. Cause why do they all involve redheads in some way and do I have a type? (yes) Kim and Ron are the original boss wife/fail husband. They’re so cute cause if you rewatch the series there’s all these little hints that they always liked each other (it took you 12 stinking years to kiss me) (I mean me and Kim sure everyone expects it but) but like didn’t wanna ruin their friendship fucking cute as hell idk if it was intentional on the writers part but yeah

7. Gwen and Geoff from Total Drama Island. They had one episode together and I was a goner. Idk I just love my sun and moon motifs as yall can clearly see. Something about the black cat golden retriever dynamic just tickles me I guess. I know yall see the potential. I rewrote total drama island just to get them to together it was bad

8. Harry and Luna from HP. Idc he shoulda been with her and not Ginny. No shade to Ginny but I just feel like they would’ve been such a great couple. Harry with someone who understands him and will never make him feel like he needs to live up to the savior role and Luna with someone who will never judge her for being different or odd. Sigh. So much wasted potential. So stinking cute oddly doesn’t exist as much anymore sigh.

9. Birdflash. I will not deny a huge part of this stems from really liking Wally West and that’s pretty much it. And I wanted more fics about him. I did not like Artemis at all, no one else shipped him with Zatanna or Rocket or Batgirl or Megan so Robin it was lol. But I mean I’ve been eating since so I can’t complain.

10. Ok while I don’t like this ship anymore I can’t deny I was obsessed with it for a hot minute. Danny/Sam from Danny phantom so much freaking potential and actually really cute from 10 year old me’s pov too bad they don’t hold up as an adult. I was very much obsessed with goths as a kid huh.

Honorary mentions

Adrien/Marinette: I haven’t seen enough of this show to put em in my top ten but my god is it cute af sometimes I just need to cute sunshine’s falling in love that is all. I’ve seen enough to know I’m rooting for both of em. A

Jade/Andre: I was obsessed with the episode he had a crush on her. Also in canon he’s the only one she calls a friend, they have lunch dates, she isn’t ever mean to him not as mean as she is to everyone else. I think it’s be cute af alright. Plus Andre wouldn’t flirt with other girls and make her jealous

Tododeku idk yall I just think they’d be cute af together not much else say. Same goes for Mina and Bakugo. Idk I just like em.

Sheen/Libby very refreshing to see a black girl get a love interest and not be discarded later. Sigh too bad that hasn’t happened since like 2006

can also throw on numbuh one and numbuh five from kids next door for similar reasons above. As well as numbuh two and numbuh five

[roguegambitweek]

Legacy

A few of our prompts this year make specific reference to the comics. We know that not everyone has read the comics (there are a lot of X-Men comics out there) and we don’t want anyone to feel left out.

So, without further ado… Legacy.

First, as the prompt is written, you can create your fanworks around the concept of legacy—of what a person leaves behind, their long lasting impact on the world. This could be children, inspiration, etc. Or, it could even be a meta exploration about Rogue and Gambit’s impact on comics, the X-Men, or any other medium they’re in. Feel free to play with this concept of legacy.

Now, if you’re interested in the character of Legacy, read on.

In 2011, there was a X-Men Legacy/New Mutants crossover event called ‘Age of X.’ In this bubble, alt-universe, dystopian world, Rogue goes by Legacy.

As Legacy, she’s present whenever another Mutant dies. She absorbs them, preserving their memories and, in a way, memorializing their lives. Because she mostly appears when Mutants die (and there are quite a few deaths since they are being hunted to extinction), other Mutants begin associating her with death. They call her Reaper, a name which she despises and continually asks them to not to call her that. Due to various reasons, Legacy spends most of her time alone, or sequestered in the Fortress.

This is a lonely existence for Legacy. And here enters our hero.

Gambit does go by Gambit, although he uses a long rifle instead of cards. One of the first times Legacy and Gambit meet, he calls her Legacy (her preferred name). When she asks him why he is helping her, he proclaims, “I don’t even know, chère. I saw you fighting, is all. And I knew what side of the fight I wanted to be on.”

Anyways, they go on a quest together to discover the truth behind the contradictions of their dying world, share a few romantic moments, and are willing to lay down their lives for each other. Even though they just met, they work together like they’ve been partners their entire lives. Truly, Romy are the OTP across the Multiverse.

In the end, they save the day and everyone is returns to the regular 616 universe. Most participants in this bubble world choose to forget about it, but Rogue retains Legacy’s memories.

The entirety of Legacy’s appearances occur in the AoX arc and for once, it is relatively achievable to read the entire crossover. Below is the reading with the essential Romy moments bolded.

Reading list in Order:

Age of X Alpha

Chapter 1 - X-Men: Legacy (2011) - issue 245

Chapter 2 - New Mutant, issue 22

Chapter 3 - X-Men: Legacy issue 246

Chapter 4 - New Mutants (2011), issue 23

Age of X Universe #1

Chapter 5 - X-Men: Legacy, issue 247

Chapter 6 - New Mutants, issue 24

Age of X Universe #2

X-Men Legacy, 248, Age of X Aftermath (Just stop reading after the ‘home and harbor’ speech)

[deancasbigbang]

Title: The Duke's Exchanged Fiancée

Author: verobatto

Artist: Diminuel

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean/Castiel (Chuck/Naomi, Hannah/Gadriel)

Length: 22882

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence.

Tags: Arranged marriage, royalty au, top!Dean/bottom!Castiel, time travel, case fic, hurt/comfort, sassy!Castiel, slow burn, happy ending, fluff and smut.

Posting Date: October 22, 2024

Summary: What would you do if you could go back in time and fix what went wrong? After Castiel Novak and his parents die at the hands of the Duke Winchester for treason to the Emperor, Castiel returns to life two days before the catastrophe and tries to stop the tragedy by asking to be taken by the Duke instead of his sister, Dean's fugitive fiancée, as a financial advisor. The Duke accepts the offer and spares the Novaks' lives. However, Castiel will soon discover that the Duke has not taken him to his dukedom to be just his advisor.

Excerpt: “Castiel? What are you doing here?” Halting, Castiel turned around and stared at him speechless. The Duke narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he approached him and then chuckled. “Did you miss me that much to search for me outside the hall? That's touching,” the Duke said and Castiel dropped his jaw, muted. Finally, Castiel shook his head and glared at the Duke. “Who's missing who? You're insane. Did you know that?” And why the hell am I blushing? “Mhm.” Dean placed a finger on his chin as he tilted his head. “Maybe you want to dance with your finacé.” “I don't want to dance! What are you…?” As Castiel felt he was losing his voice, Dean grabbed his hand all of the sudden and led him back to the Hall. “Let's dance then,” Dean said and in a few seconds they were dancing in the hall, and everyone was watching them again. At the distance, Castiel could hear Lafitte's laughter. Ashamed, Castiel dropped his gaze to the ground. His face was burning and he couldn't look at the Duke's eyes. “You dance nicely.” Maybe the Duke’s voice was sincere, Castiel didn't know. He only wanted to be swallowed by the ground. “Please–” Castiel pleaded, yet the Duke made him twirl like a freaking spinning top. When the song ended, Castiel thought that was the end of the martyrdom. He thought wrongly. Without previous warning, the Duke pulled him closer by the waist and kissed him in the lips. A cheerful ‘Oooh’ mixed with Castiel ragged heartbeats.

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[mcspirkevents]

20 more days till Mcspirk Month 2024

McSpirk Month, what is it, and how does it work?

Mcspirk Month is a fandom event meant to celebrate the ship of McCoy/Spock/Kirk, in any and all forms. QPRs are valid, and celebrated here.

If you make something for Mcspirk month you can post it on tumblr and tag this blog (I'll reblog your works). You can also post it to the Ao3 collection, found here.

Mcspirk month 2024 begins March 1st. However you can post whenever you want. (If you find these prompt lists five years after the fact and still want to post to the collection, or tag this blog then go for it!)

Can I mix and match prompts?

Absolutely! If there's an NSFW prompt you want to write the most tooth-rotting, safe for work fluff with, then do it. The vice versa is also cool.

What are the Bonus prompts?

They are extra prompts. If there's a day with a prompt you don't like, you can switch it out with the bonus prompts. You could even combine them with other prompts if you want.

Below the cut will be written out list of the days and prompts. The NSFW list is below the cut.

SFW list of prompts:

Day 1: Forced Proximity

Day 2: Touch-starved

Day 3: Badass Power Throuple

Day 4: Hand Holding

Day 5: Hurt/Comfort

Day 6: Protective McCoy

Day 7: Going to a Planet Where They Have To Wear Silly Outfits

Day 8:Public Display of Affection

Day 9: Spock is a Hopeless Romantic

Day 10: Hands

Day 11: Shore Leave

Day 12: Vulnerability

Day 13: Time Loop

Day 14: Tarsus IV

Day 15: Fake Dating

Day 16: Lost the Ability to Speak

Day 17: McCoy Hurt with Spock and Kirk Comfort

Day 18: Jealous Bones

Day 19: Kirk is Missing, Presumed Dead

Day 20: Trans

Day 21: Academy Era

Day 22: Oblivious Scotty

Day 23: Reunion

Day 24: Temporary Blindness

Day 25: Temporary Awkward Ability

Day 26: Western AU

Day 27: Vacation Gone Awry

Day 28: Awkward Spock

Day 29: TOS/AOS Crossover

Day 30: Desperate Measures

Day 31: Insecurity

Bonus Prompt #1: Chekov discovers the truth

Bonus Prompt #2: Pining

Bonus Prompt #3: Nightmares

Bonus Prompt #4: Uhura helps them out

Here is the NSFW Prompt list:

NSFW list of prompts:

Day 1: Non-Human Genitalia

Day 2: Hands

Day 3: Only One Bed

Day 4: Pon Farr

Day 5: Against A Wall

Day 6: Vulcan Biology

Day 7: Hand Kink

Day 8: Finger Kink

Day 9: Telepathic Sex

Day 10: Double Penetration

Day 11: Fuck or Die

Day 12: Aliens Made them Do It

Day 13: Sex in a Three Way Body Swap

Day 14: Power Dynamics

Day 15: Uniform Kink

Day 16: Body Worship

Day 17: First Time Bottoming

Day 18: Oral Fixation

Day 19: Sex Toys

Day 20: Accidental Voyeurism

Day 21: Bondage

Day 22: Mirrorverse

Day 23: Teasing

Day 24: Alien Biology

Day 25: Praise Kink

Day 26: Expectations vs Reality

Day 27: Voyeurism

Day 28: Trying a New Toy

Day 29: Getting Interrupted

Day 30: Spitroasting

Day 31: Lab Desk

Bonus Prompt #1: Pet Names

Bonus Prompt #2: Body Hair

Bonus Prompt #3: Blindfolds

Bonus Prompt #4: Misuse of the bond

[robinette-green]

Two Hunters and a Bloodsucker

My life is good for what it is. Except that I’m dead. Well, undead. I’ve been undead for about 15 years now, and I haven’t aged a day.

Being a vampire hiding among humans can be difficult at times, mainly dealing with sunlight and avoiding mirrors, but I manage. I’ve been living and working in this little town as the town blacksmith for about 7 years now, and I’ve become a full-fledged member of the little community here.

I thought I had been doing a good job hiding my presence among the humans, but one day two of the most well-known vampire hunters came into town. If they find out what I am, they will kill me, but both of them have become intent on becoming my friends and maybe more. How can I keep myself from being discovered when two hunters are trying to romance me?

Current word count: 58,520

Tags: Sun and Moon are humans, Fluff and Angst, Sun and Moon are vampire hunters, Blood, Not beta read we die like men!, Blood Drinking, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Angst and Feels, MC is a vampire, Mild Gore

AO3 Chapter Links:

Chapter 1: Hiding in Plain Sight Two vampire hunters come to town and ask me to forge them some silver bullets

Chapter 2: Complications Despite trying to avoid both hunters, I run into both and the flirting intensifies

Chapter 3: Deadly Romance The two hunters watch me work and I accidentally take a nap on the roof of my workshop

Chapter 4: This is a chapter I’ve gone too long without drinking blood but I need to finish these bullets.

Chapter 5: Leaving The hunters take me with them when they leave to take care of their next job

Chapter 6: This is Also a Chapter On the road and the hunters start asking me questions about being a vampire

Chapter 7: Chapter Name Here We reach a little seaside town and get a room at an inn

Chapter 8: Why do Chapters Need Names? It’s morning and we meet with an old friend of the hunters

Chapter 9: I Refuse to Come up With Another Real Chapter Name Classic horror movie setting. A thunderstorm and an old rickety house on a cliff.

Chapter 10: This Chapter has a Fight in it … This chapter had a fight in it.

Chapter 11: Really Dead? Lives are saved and we’re on the road again

Chapter 12: Hot Stuff (I’m not sorry) We make it to the capital city and meet the hunters’ uncle

Chapter 13: Well… Blood, a nap, and a nighttime walk

Chapter 14: AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!! “What happened to ‘I need time?’”

Chapter 15: What are Emotions? Floating on a fluffy cloud of fluff.

Chapter 16: Calm before the Storm Food and new clothes

Chapter 17: Chapter The Hunters Guild

Chapter 18: Chapter the next Late night visitors and a trip to a famous smithy

Chapter 19: Beginning of the End Things aren’t always what they seem

Chapter 20: Loss and Blood Escaping and meeting a horse

Chapter 21: Running Trying to get back to town

Chapter 22: Chapter plus a number of Meeting old friend and coming up with a plan

Chapter 23: Body Chute Sneaking in to save the day

Chapter 24: Hell Fire We’re here to save the day! But can we get away?

Chapter 25: The Worst Chapter

Horrible things happen

Chapter 26: IN PROGRESS

[i-heart-hxh]

A Day in the Life of Killua

I wanted to share a translation of an excerpt from this Hunter x Hunter Characters Book, published in 2001.

Translation:

A Day in the Life of Killua

My own big prediction!

Although he has lived a life soaked in blood, Killua is probably no different from a normal 12-year-old. Let’s take a closer look at the life of Killua, who says he loves sweets!

10:00 Wake up

11:00 Gon arrives.

While I was dozing off in the morning, I hear Gon's voice inviting me to play with him. I’m embarrassed for some reason, so I hit him without thinking.

12:00 Play with Gon

14:00 Lunch

We have lunch while wandering around town. I feel it’s more fun to eat outside than in a restaurant.

15:00 Snack

16:00 Play some more

17:00 Discover Illumi.

While I was making a pit trap to trick Gon, somehow I found Illumi. I dash away like I'm about to die, and calm myself down.

17:05 Buy Chocobo

19:00 Dinner

20:00 Go to Gon's room

22:00 Go to bed in Gon's room

While talking with Gon about what we did in town, it gets to be late at night. It’s too much trouble to go back to my room, so I go to bed next to Gon.

A word from Killua

You're totally wrong! Why do I keep eating sweets all the time? And why is my brother Illumi buried in the garden? You're making fun of me!?

Japanese Transcript:

(Just because I went through the trouble to transcribe it, and in case anyone wants to do their own translations!)

とある１日のキルア

勝手に大予想

血に染まった人生を歩んできつつも、たぶんは普通の12歳となんら変わりのないキルア。そんな、おかしが大好きだというキルアの生活に迫る！

１０：００　起床

１１：００　ゴンがやってくる

朝、ぼーっとしていると、ゴンの遊びを誘う声。なぜか照れているので、おもわず殴る。

１２：００　ゴンと遊ぶ

１４：００　昼ご飯

街をブラブラしながらの昼食。お店で食べるよりも、外で食べたほうが楽しいと感じる。

１５：００　おやつ

１６：００　さらに遊ぶ

１７：００　イルミを発見

ゴンをだまそうと落とし穴を作っていたら、なぜかイルミがいた。死にそうなくらいダ��シュでにげて、心を落ち着かせる。。。

１７：０５　チョコロボくんを買う

１９：００　夕飯

２０：００　ゴンの部屋に行く

２２：００　ゴンの部屋に就寝

ゴンと街で遊んだことを話合っているうちに、深夜に突入。自分の部屋に戻るが面倒なので、そのままゴンの隣で就寝。

キルアより一言

ぜんっぜん，ちげぇーよ！なんでずっとおかしばっかり食べてんだよ。それにどんな意味があって、庭にイルミ兄が埋まってるんだ？バカにしてるだろ！？

Another thing I want to note about this book is that it has a full story in it, which you can find translated here! It's an interesting read in general--it's based off episode 46 of the 1999 anime, which deviates from the manga and has its own original story, and this story then expands upon that original story. One thing I think is especially interesting is the story starts off with Gon and Killua sleeping in the same bed, so this book makes two separate mentions of that being something they do, which is cute. ❤️

While Togashi didn't write the story himself or likely the contents of this book, he did write an afterword to it, so I'm guessing he must have at the very least read it over and approved of the contents before it was published, and it's certainly possible he had more involvement than that as well. Take the canon status of it all with a grain of salt, I'd say it's more semi-canon/a different version of canon than 100% canon to the manga (similar to how I consider the 1999 anime additions/changes as well), but it's interesting nonetheless and fun as far as shipping fuel goes!

[ducktu]

With Dia de Muertos being between today and tomorrow, it's time to auto promote my own fic about Día de Muertos with Tim and Jason!!

Happy Día de Muertos Red Hood! by sparklesparklebigirl

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types

Teen And Up Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Gen

Complete Work

22 May 2024

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne

Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth

Tags: Jason Todd is Red Hood, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Catherine Todd is Jason Todd's Parent, Jason Todd is Mexican, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Jason Todd is Good at Feelings, Fluff, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Día de los Muertos | Day of the Dead, Jason Todd is Latino, Tim Drake Gets a Hugno, No beta we die like jason todd, Canonical Character Death, canon? what's that, Not Canon Compliant, Freeform

Summary:

Tim decides that Jason Todd deserves his altar on Día de Muertos, even when he comes back from the death.

Then Jason discovers it.

Language: English, Words: 2,243, Chapters: 1/1

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Matt Keeley at LGBTQ Nation:

Every hot sauce fan has their favorite—and there’s a good chance that your favorite is Valentina, one of the most popular hot sauces in Mexico. But Valentina is more than just a great condiment; it’s named for a crossdressing hero of Mexican history, Valentina Ramírez Avitia. Ramírez Avitia sadly died in poverty, but the sauce named for her helps the world honor her memory. 

She was born in 1893 in Norotol, a town so small that nearly all that comes up when you Google it is references to Ramírez Avitia. Her father was an early casualty of the Mexican Revolution of 1910, and at 17, she decided to join the fight for her homeland in his place. 

Of course, it being the early 20th century, women weren’t allowed to fight in the military. So she dressed in drag, studied how her brothers walked and talked, and named herself “Juan Ramírez,” according to GQ.

“In November 1910, I joined General Iturbe’s group, but dressed as a man with the name of Juan Ramírez. Juan Ramírez fought until June 22, 1911, fighting alongside the soldiers who took the plaza of Culiacán, overthrowing on that glorious date Governor Diego Redo, General Higinio Aguilar and Colonel Luis G. Morelos,” she said in a 1969 interview cited by the Mexican magazine Noroeste. “Ramírez” proved to be a great soldier, and it was the battle in Culiacán that led to her promotion to lieutenant. Things were going well, and she was respected among her fellow soldiers. 

But on June 22, 1911, things fell apart. “When I was giving water to my horse near the island of Orabá, he knocked my hat off and a revolutionary who was next to me discovered my long braids. He thought I was an enemy spy and took me to the general. After an interrogation, when he discovered that I was a woman, he was shocked. He congratulated me but immediately discharged me because he did not admit women into his ranks, just like General Villa. From then on, I never again smelled gunpowder,” she said in 1969.

Though there are many stories of what we would now call trans men throughout history, including some who fought in wars, Ramírez Avitia does not appear to be one of them. Just as she said that she never smelled gunpowder again after leaving the military, it appears she never again donned men’s clothes either.

Despite being the only one of her siblings to join the cause, they all shunned her on her return because she was not at home to take care of her sick mother. Her mother died, and her family never forgave her. She left Norotol for good and moved to Culiacán, marrying Colonel Federico Cárdenas, who left her a widow after a few years.  Twenty years after she was kicked out of the military, she met General Iturbe again. He recognized her and gave her a recommendation to work as a maid with a wealthy family. But in 1969, she was hit by a car, which left her disabled for the rest of her life. Once she was discharged from the hospital following the accident, according to Noroeste, the city council of Culiacán sent her to a nursing home, but she escaped only a few days later.  “I prefer to die with my dogs than to die a prisoner,” she said at the time. Unfortunately, Ramírez Avitia was not eligible for a military pension. Unable to work, she became a beggar, living in the city of Navolato. Unable to walk, she used a wheeled board to get around. 

She loved dogs and had many with her in her small home. This proved to be her downfall, as it was likely a dog that knocked over one of her votive candles, lighting her home on fire, burning it down with her inside. She died shortly after on April 4, 1979, and, according to Noroeste, was buried in a pauper’s grave at the Culiacán Civil Cemetery. Though the woman named the Lioness of Norotal was sadly not taken care of in life, she inspired tributes in art, even while she was still alive. She was the subject of a popular corrido, a Mexican narrative form similar to the ballad. Written a few years after the Mexican Revolution, the song stripped her of her agency and denied her role in the Mexican Revolution. The government at the time wanted to deny that women had helped fight, according to the Library of Congress. Instead the song is from the point of view of a soldier in love with Valentina, who says that his passion for her has led him to the war. 

The story behind the Valentina hot sauces that a lot of us are familiar with when we have Mexican food: The brand is named after Valentina Ramírez Avitia, who fought in the Mexican Revolutionary War despite being banned from joining the military at the time, thus she dressed in drag as Juan Ramírez.

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, part 22

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous part

Part 22: in your nature

WARNING: a little graphic/gruesome; also very long lol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You doing okay?" Husker asked.

We were sitting out on the porch again. He had his bottle of liquor in hand and I had his phone. I was looking through for more shirts since I—well, Alastor—had gotten blood on some of mine. I was using my Human form and resting my cheek on my fist.

"Always," I responded. I kept scrolling through the website in search of my size. Most of the stores didn't have mine in stock at their locations. I had read an article some time ago, when I had snuck Husker's phone, about how clothes could be ordered in any size at any time to be delivered within a few days. That was before the Great Collapse.

Husker and I stayed outside in the cool summer breeze until dusk. He managed to coax me into talking about the ring fights when I was a kid and I managed to get him to talk about his own life.

He grew up on the surface with his mother, never knowing his father, and got himself into gambling at casinos. He was born after the collapse and supposedly worked with Human Alastor at some point. He wouldn't go into detail because it eventually lead to his deal with the Radio Demon. Since serving Alastor, he's been spending a lot of time in Hell until he was brought up to watch me.

I tried a different store through his phone for clothes. He disappeared inside for another bottle of alcohol. Now that the pretty sky had turned dark, I was about ready to follow him inside. I let out a heavy sigh and stood up.

Then I froze.

I could hear something. It was a buzzing sound. It was close, as if right beneath me but the floorboards were the only thing there. I let my Demon ears show to hear better, quickly discovering the noise coming from Husker's phone.

I clicked open the phone to see a bright blue screen. Rings of red pulsed through the screen and I felt a strange buzz going through my jaw and into my head. I felt a weird, spikey energy pushing into my shields. I immediately strengthened them and shoved the presence away, my eyes never leaving the screen.

The phone began to grow hot. I tried to let go but I couldn't force my fingers to unravel. Something sharp pinched my hand and ran all throughout my body. I tried to retract but my whole body felt like it was being electrocuted. Everything shook uncontrollably.

I fell backwards, my entire body painfully tense as the spikes of electricity faded from my bones. I opened my eyes to a large, extravagant, and bright red room. There were huge windows on one side of the room and everything outside seemed just as red.

"Well hello, my dear." Vox stepped in my view and held out a blue clawed hand. "Welcome to the Vees." He put his hand in my face until I finally took it and let him help me to my feet. He stood a head taller than me.

"Why am I here?" I asked. I caught sight of two Overlords sitting on the couch behind him. One of them was the ring owner who had tried to drug me. Ponytails was the other one.

"I tried to send you an invitation but you know how Alastor is with technology," Vox laughed, his smile wide across his flat screen face. "We never got to properly meet with the whole ring fight and all."

That's when it clicked. He had been the announcer. I knew I recognized his voice.

"What do you want?" my tone hardened.

"Just a friendly chat. Is that too much to ask these days?"

"You tried to kill me."

"I tried to have you killed," he clarified, sticking his claw close to my face, "I didn't lay a finger on you." My expression didn't lessen, my tail whipping side to side behind me. I could feel the ring owner trying to push through my shields.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"Did Alastor not tell you about me?" He put his hands over his heart.

"He doesn't really talk about himself." I scrunched my nose so my sharp teeth poked through my lips.

"Surely he told you about his dear old pal? His best friend?"

"I didn't know he had those." That made all three Ovelords laugh. They laughed for awhile and Vox fell onto the couch wiping away an electronic tear.

"Wow, you really are his soulmate."

I grimaced at Vox's words. My ears fell back a little and I shifted my feet, ignoring the offer to sit beside him.

"You know~," the ring owner lulled his word, making the room serious again, "we could keep you out of his hands if you hate him so much."

"I don't need to be kept anywhere. And please stop trying to get in my head." I shoved against his presence again and he backed off, finally putting some space between us.

"It's my understanding you hate being with Alastor," Vox said, "Husker is quite the good cop, isn't he?"

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I've heard anything and everything you've been saying. I know how you want to learn magic. How youuu...want to be at his level one day but that'll take hundreds of years. Am I getting that right?"

My scowl grew.

"Alastor can't and won't kill me, and certainly not the three of us together. You'd be safe here to do anything you want."

"In exchange for what?" I snapped. Something wasn't sitting right with me about this conversation. There was something hiding.

"Work for us. We don't need you to do a ton of work but it would only make it fair to let you stay here."

Ponytails was looking at her phone half the time and the ring owner stared at me through his ridiculous tinted glasses.

I didn't trust that Alastor wouldn't kill Vox and his friends. Vox sounded incredibly egotistical and too proud to admit someone could better him. Yet if they were good friends, would Alastor spare his life? I couldn't even trust that information either.

"I would need some time to think," I said. I needed to get out of here, out of Hell. I had no idea how to get out of Hell or teleport anywhere. But I could run to Rosie's. She's an Overlord, too.

"Oh of course," Vox stood, "I wouldn't want you to feel pressured into anything. I can show you to a secluded room to give you time to think." He stepped closer to me.

"That's not necessary," I tried to play off. I backed up until my tail touched a door.

"Canibal Town is on the other side of the Pentagram, my dear. Where do you intend to go?"

How was he reading my thoughts? All three of them were still outside my shields. Unless he's been watching and listening since the beginning.

"This isn't my first time in Hell," I feigned. The others had stood up and I could feel energy and magic building up in the room. It felt like three cats ready to pounce on a cornered mouse. I grabbed the handle behind my back and subtly tested it.

"The broadcast will start in a few hours, surely you'll want to hear it." Vox's smile was big and his one eye pulsed black and red. I felt a buzz down my spine and looked at Ponytails. The buzz went away as I kept them well outside my shield.

"Husker and I plan to listen, don't worry." My claws were digging into my palm and I swore I could feel blood crawling down it.

"That wasn't a request, dear."

The room went still. The three of them stared at me, his pulsing eye stopped, and I held my breath. My grip was painfully tight on the door handle, probably smearing blood on it in the process. My shields still held. It felt like they were pulling back a slingshot, waiting to let go.

So I moved first.

I casted a gust of wind and slipped out the door. My foot claws tapped on the floor as I sprinted down the extravagant hallways. I didn't know where I was going. How do I get out? There were other Demons around but none of them stopped me.

Vox appeared like lightning out of various security cameras. His laugh vibrated through the hallways as he tried to herd me in a certain direction. I slid down various staircases, using my wings to brace my falls.

Vox appeared in front of me again. I skidded to a halt and lowered myself to the ground on four legs. I snarled at him through my heavy breathing. His toothy smile was wide across his screen as he told me running was useless.

Sweat dripped down my nose. I gathered it together and casted it into the wind. I brought it around his head and into the back where his circuits were. His screen turned a fuzzy white then a rainbow. His whole body jerked violently and collapsed into the wall.

I jumped past his body and finally came to a lobby. I could see the red buildings through the glass walls. An alarm went off and gray walls started moving down the glass ones. I went down on all fours again and sprinted for the exit. I casted fire first then a freezing gust of wind. I turned my head and braced.

I threw my body into the glass right under the closing wall. It cracked and gave way, making me land on the top of my shoulder and onto my back. I felt the glass shards sticking into my back as I scrambled to my feet.

Demons around stopped to stare. I didn't. I ran down the nearest street and then the next. I zig zagged, slipping past small and huge Demons on the way. I needed to get up to find Rosie's territory. So I jumped on the nearest dumpster and onto a roof.

Hell was a city. I had thought it would be much bigger.

A drone buzzed overhead. I recognized the color as belonging to Vox. I started jumping over the roofs in a desperate attempt to find Rosie's. Everything looked the exact same in this horrid shade of red.

I landed on the next roof and was thrown off my feet. I hit the opposing wall and fell into an alley. Everything hurt as I slowly pushed myself up to my feet. Three large Demons and several small ones stood on either side of the alley. They had various weapons in hand, most of which were a bright white.

I stood on two feet and put my back against the wall. My shadow stretched above me, opened her wings, and let out a howl. Eyes turned to her and I took the opening. I casted wind and debris down both sides to push them off their feet. I opened my wings and flapped up to the roof.

A gunshot went off and my leg hit the edge. I dug my claws into the rooftop as the pain and my own weight dragged me down. A rope wrapped around my wing and a sharp jerk brought me all the way back down. I landed on my side with a snap somewhere in my ribs. I clung to my injured leg and pulled myself against the wall.

The group crowded around me, holding the bright white weapons. I snarled and imagined myself getting bigger. I lunged forward and closed my jaws around one of their legs. I casted the others away like nothing and lifted the Demon up by his leg. His screams filled my ears and he desperately failed to pry open my jaw.

I turned my head mad threw him down the alley. I towered well over the others now, my shadow three times it's usual size. It started attacking one group of Demons as I turned my attention to the other one. Their eyes were wide with fear, hands shaking. I licked the blood from my lips and found myself wanting more.

I was huge now. A true dragon. I trapped many of them under my huge claws and caught more in my large mouth. Their little knives were bug bites and their blood a sweet nectar. I pulled apart, crushed, and swallowed each and every one of them. Their energy faded from their bodies and joined with mine, spurring me on even further.

I searched for more victims but there were none left. I turned in circles several times, limping slightly from the bullet wound on my leg. My broken rib pinched something with some of my movements. My shadow had bright white eyes and teeth, desperately searching for victims too.

Then I saw a figure. I took one step then stopped. It was Striker.

"Well well, ain't this a nice surprise." His one tooth glinted when he smiled. I felt the fear rising in my chest and making my new form grow smaller. I pushed the fear down to replace it with anger. I swayed from side to side as I waited for him to act first. "Had no idea you were a Demon."

My lips pulled back in a snarl.

He reached behind him and pulled out a bright white rope. He started looping it and moving it at his side, ready to throw. I lowered my head and tensed my working muscles. I could feel my fear reaching through my arms and into my fingers. I could do this. I bet his blood tasted sweeter than any other Demon.

A knife buried itself in my thigh. I howled and turned to bite the Demon in half. Rope caught my upper jaw and jerked it back. I dug my claws into the ground and pulled sharply, dragging Striker closer. I reared up on my good leg and slammed my front claws down on him. He jumped out of the way, casting another rope over my head. It tightened around my throat and I felt my magic slipping from my fingers.

He threw another one around my good leg, swiftly pulling me off my feet. I rolled over in an effort to crush him but he was too fast. He cast more rope around my other limbs and tossed them to other Demons. Where did they all come from?

I tried casting wind but nothing happened. My magic was gone. No energy, no magic, nothing. I felt cold.

Striker jumped on my horns and his weight pulled them back. I tried rolling again but I only tangled myself further in the rope. He jumped on top of my head and his weight plus the rope brought it down on the ground. I felt like a fly caught in a spider's web.

"Still no match for me." Striker stepped off my face, whipping his tail against my snout. He knelt down and pressed his claws into my scaly skin. I winced at the pain and tried pulling free. Demons were all over me, pulling from in front, behind, overhead, and on top of me. "I will always surpass your magic. You're not skilled enough to take me on."

My lips pulled back in a smile, though it looked like a snarl. I didn't have the magic skills, but I had other skills.

I let the fear overwhelm me and my figure shrunk back to its normal size. I pulled my limbs free and my shadow threw the ropes far away. Striker lunged and I rolled backwards, sending him over my head with my good leg. He rolled forward then snaked back in seconds.

I grew my tail and hit him into the wall. I choked on another rope that was still wound on my neck. I slipped my hands under and threw my body forward. I leaned back to loosen it and pulled it off. I casted a huge gust of wind that sent the Demons back.

The white ropes stopped my magic.

Striker countered the wind and pierced through my funnel. He threw a knife into my tail and reached for my throat. My tired leg couldn't hold him back. His claws closed around my neck and my vision started to blacken. I raked my own claws down his face and he howled, pulling away.

I dragged myself to my feet and leaned everything into the wall. He came again, bleeding black ooze, and clocked me in the side of the face. He wrapped an arm around my neck but tucked my chin and threw my elbow up into his chin.

He kicked behind my good knee and I fell. He slammed my face into the ground before holding it up by my hair. His knee dug into my shoulders, contorting my body in different directions. I let out a cry from the pain.

"You can't beat me," his hissed in my ear. My energy was gone. I just wanted to stop. But I couldn't.

"No," I struggled, "but I can fight you." I reached up and poked him in the eyes. I pulled against his tight grip and shoved off the wall. I fell on him and he threw me off into the opposite wall. I tried to get up to my knees but my limbs wouldn't support my weight anymore.

Striker stepped toward me. His head jerked to the side as something caught his attention. His eyes widened and he took a few steps back. I could hear Demons screaming and being torn apart. He looked between me and it, trying to decide once again if I was worth the new threat.

A shadow—Alastor's shadow—crawled up the wall. It's wide mouth opened in a screech at Striker. It smothered around him, attacking and throwing him off his feet.

"This isn't over radio fossil!" he yelled, disappearing down the street.

I let out a sigh. The pain was slowly reaching my mind, telling my brain that everything was hurt or broken. I swallowed and slowly, carefully, pushed myself on my back. My chest heaved for air but my ribs wouldn't let me inhale enough oxygen.

Alastor walked over to me, his arms folded behind him with his cane. I couldn't tell which smile he was wearing so I assumed he was angry. My claws scratched the concrete as pain pulsed through my body.

"Alastor...I..." It was getting harder to breathe. "I didn't...he took me. I...I didn't leave—" pain cut off my words. I squeezed my eyes shut as it rocked through my spine and into head.

"I'm aware." He pressed his claws around my temples and I felt the pain dull. He slipped his arms under my shoulders and legs, lifting me up effortlessly. "Take a look, my dear."

I opened my eyes to see the alley littered with dead and deformed bodies. There had to be at least thirty dead Demons.

"That was all you."

My shoulders fell with my spirit. I had killedall of them. I had even eaten some of them. Their sweet blood still lingered on my tongue and I found myself wishing for more. I could see their scared faces in my mind and feel my heart quicken at the mere thought of them being terrified. They had all been so scared when I had transformed.

Alastor turned the other way but I stared at the site over his shoulder. I actually wanted him to let me go so I could do it again. The energy from all of them still buzzed in my body despite the overwhelming exhaustion.

"I told you dear," my ear flicked at his voice, tears streaming down my cheeks and claws digging into his shoulders, "it's in your nature."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Only like one more chapter before we get to the gooood stuff :P

[miraclewoozi]

i do not give permission for anything posted on this blog to be reposted or translated either here on tumblr, or on any other platform.

minors are not welcome and DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT to read anything posted on this blog.

everything shared here is self indulgent fiction and in no way reflective of how any of these people think, feel or behave in real life.

ODE TO A CONVERSATION ( stuck in your throat ). everything with seungcheol has always been easy. easier than with anyone else, anyway. ( smut. exes to lovers. 6k words. )

ELECTRIC. your best friend is many things. smart, funny, empathetic, a complete and utter pain in your ass to name but a few. and on the evening of his twenty-eighth birthday, you discover something a little unexpected: jeonghan is very afraid of thunderstorms.  ( smut. fluff + mild angst. friends to something? 6.3k words. )

BURNIN' UP. you really were just trying to enjoy a cool treat by the pool on a hot summer’s day. honest. ( smut. friends who fool around. mean!dom josh. 3.1k words. )

nothing here, yet !

JUST THE TWO OF US? ( prompt drabble. requested. fluff. friends to lovers. 1.1k words. )

BEST BEHAVIOUR. ( prompt drabble. requested. smut. sub!soonyoung. 1.1k words. )

nothing here, yet !

DON'T SWEAT IT. today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — jihoon is forced to notice you. ( fluff + smut. gym crush. strangers to lovers. 18k words. )

VERSACE ON THE FLOOR. or, the time you and your homebody boyfriend* decide to just… not go to your dinner plans. ( fluff. suggestive. est relationship. 2.4k words. )

LEE JIHOON, YOUR EMOTIONAL SUPPORT I.T GUY. (prompt drabble. requested. coworkers to lovers. fluff. 2.3k words.)

nothing here, yet !

nothing here, yet !

UNDER THE COLLAR. your unlucky-in-love best friend goes on a date with someone who, by all accounts, should be his perfect person. so… how exactly do you end up being the one who tucks his sorry, drunk ass into bed? ( fluff. some angst. mildly suggestive. pining. friends to ???. 4.6k words. )

TIL DEATH DO US PART. ( prompt drabble. requested. angst. zombie apocalypse au. TWs : death/blood/body horror. ~900 words. )

[ 22:38 ] ( smut/pwp. 1.5k words. )

NOW YOU SEE ME. you can't say you're surprised that your boyfriend leaps at the thought of throwing some sensory deprivation into the mix of your sex life, but you're maybe a little shocked at just how into it he gets. ( smut. est relationship. blindfolding. 4.5k words. )

NETFLIX AND --? you try everything in your power to try and help your workaholic boyfriend unwind on his night off. you quickly find out that vernon doesn’t know how to just do nothing. ( domestic smut. est relationship. 2.3k words. )

[ 5:55 ] ( smut/pwp. married au. christmas morning. 2k words. )

DO YOU DREAM OF ME? the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome.  or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it.  ( fluff. mild angst. soulmate au. 5 times fic. f2l. 9.6k words. )

HIGH FIDELITY. | PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 getting back on the horse is hard, and failing to hit it off with the cute gamer guy you went for a drink with last night has the potential to be your love life’s last straw. but when up and coming rockstar VERNON unexpectedly canters into your life, you find yourself asking one very important question: do you have it in you to saddle up, one more time? ( fluff/angst/smut. up and coming rockstar au. miniseries. s2l. est. 38k words. )

DRIVE. or, the night you realise it’s actually very hard to stay mad at the guy who shows up at your house, throwing stones at your window on a Thursday night, to try and fix something that was your mistake in the first place. ( fwb to lovers. angst, smut + fluff. 7.8k words. )

FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE. (prompt drabble. requested. exes to lovers. fluff/smut. 5k words.)

MTL : able to undo your bra with one hand.

[randomly--accessed--memories]

Overlord Niffty backstory because why not

She was born Nancy Sada in 1931 to two first-generation Japanese immigrants in middle America. She had a relatively happy childhood, mostly confined to her local Japanese American community. However, after the US entered WWII, she was suddenly under enormous pressure to acculturate herself into mainstream American society in order to prove her and her family's loyalty to the country.

As she aged, Niffty developed an obsession with perfection– being the perfect American, the perfect woman, the perfect everything. She began molding herself to fit these roles, making herself smaller, sweeter, more demure, all in hopes of achieving the ideal self. It wreaked havoc on her self-esteem and mental health, and more often than not it felt as though it was all in vain since society was so hostile to her due to her ethnicity.

However, when she was 19, Niffty finally made some progress towards her goal of achieving the post-war ideal; a handsome young man had taken an interest in her. Niffty jumped at the opportunity, falling head-over-heels for him (or at least, the idea of him), and agreeing to marry him the moment he asked. This was it. She had the perfect, all American husband and she was going to be his perfect wife.

Things were fine for a while. Niffty was perfectly happy to stay home running the household all day while her husband was at work. She enjoyed housework and even if she was a bit lonely, she knew she'd make friends with the other women in the neighborhood eventually, and if not, then her future children would fill her days. But as time went on, that sunny outlook started to seem more and more naive. The neighborhood women were cold to her due to her ethnicity, she wasn't getting pregnant no matter how hard she tried, and her husband was becoming increasingly callous and neglectful, treating her more like a maid than a wife.

The isolation took its tool on Niffty and she started edging her way towards a nervous breakdown. She tried to suppress her anxieties by committing even harder to the Perfect Housewife persona, but that only made things worse as now she was not only unhappy, she was failing at her goals. Things eventually came to a head in 1953, when she discovered her husband had been cheating on her with someone at work. Niffty felt as though her world was crumbling around her and, in a fit of rage and grief, she stabbed her husband to death with a kitchen knife. The neighbors heard the screams and called the police, who promptly shot Niffty three times in the chest when she refused to drop the knife.

Niffty was devastated when she woke up in Hell. She'd spent her entire life being as sweet and kind and good as possible, but all of it had been for nothing. She'd killed the person who was supposed to be the center of her world and was now damned for eternity because of it. She'd failed. Despite how heartbroken she felt, Niffty wasn't willing to just roll over and die or let herself be swept up in the violence of Hell. She was only 22– she wanted to live, and live well at that. She'd wasted her whole life being good and submitting to everyone who crossed her path and it'd gotten her nowhere, so why not try the opposite?

Niffty never did things by halves. She fully committed herself by seizing back her agency by any means necessary. Using her small size and cute demeanor to her advantage, she started carving out a life for herself in Hell. She got herself a job in the fashion industry (one of her great passions in life that she'd abandoned for her husband) as a seamstress and settled into a typical sinner's life. However, she wasn't satisfied with the state of things for long; she didn't want to just be another face in the crowd, she wanted to make her mark on the world.

Slowly, she started tricking people into contracts. It wasn't hard– so many sinners saw her as weak and harmless that they easily agreed to deals that they would've been far more cautious of had they been dealing with a more physically intimidating demon. Networking, exchanging favors for favors, building up her status– all of it paid off in the end when the previous Overlord of the fashion industry was killed, leaving a power vacuum that people were rushing to fill. Niffty managed to start her own business using the connections she'd made, and while all the other wannabe Overlords were fighting over the old Overlord's power and territory, she positioned herself to start gaining power of her own.

Her business was successful and began to grow, starting to swallow up smaller fashion studios left and right. Niffty's tireless pursuit of her goals was starting to pay off and she was not about to let up now. She pushed her employees to work harder, work faster, and within only a few years, she was the head of the most successful clothing brand in the Pride Ring. It was child's play to topple the person who'd come out on top in the scramble for the title of Overlord of Fashion and claim it for herself. By the end of the 1950s, tiny, humble little Niffty had clawed her way to the top of Hell's hierarchy.

For the next several years, things stayed that way. Niffty felt as though she'd finally reclaimed her personal power and was content to protect that power at all costs. She made sure her brand was always putting out the best clothes they could possibly make; she became very territorial and would crush any competitors who threatened her power like bugs; she decided that while she may never be the most powerful Overlord, she could be the most perfect one.

She developed a toxic work culture within her company, telling her employees/contractees that they were all one big, happy family, with her as the doting mother. She was genuinely sweet and affectionate with her workers and did whatever she could to make them like her– other than improving the sweatshop conditions of her factories, of course. Then, when a problem arose or they fell behind on their quotas, she would leverage that emotional connection against them and punish the whole group for the actions of a few, using the justification of "mother knows best."

Niffty started to open herself back up to men again after several years of ignoring them to focus on her career. She started leaning towards the "bad boys" she'd admired in her youth, since the perfect, seemingly wholesome option had worked out so badly for her. Despite all her power, she was still scared of entering into a real relationship though; if she let her guard down, things could so easily turn abusive again and she'd be back to being someone's little toy on a string again. She eventually decided that she liked men more as aesthetic objects more than as people. She ended up with a little collection of breathtakingly handsome male models who'd signed their souls away to her– she never engaged with them sexually or romantically, but instead got her kicks from displaying them like taxidermied butterflies, reveling in the total control she had over the people who had once had such control over her. She'd occasionally hook up with men outside of her employ, but she never entered into a significant, long-term relationship ever again.

Niffty sat comfortably on top of the hierarchy until the late 1960s. She'd met Alastor in passing a few times during Overlord meetings/events, but she'd never exchanged more than a few polite words with him. She didn't feel particularly in danger from him– his huge Overlord massacre had been over thirty years ago at that point and while he still did topple one every once in a while to keep himself fresh in everyone's minds, he usually went after far bigger fish than her, power-wise. Sure, business was booming, but she was a 4 foot tall bug woman without any of the big, flashy powers most Overlords had; she'd be too easy a target for him to get much of a thrill out of, right? She felt utterly secure that day, sitting in her office, drawing up new designs for the upcoming season, completely invested in her work. And then everything went black.

[alornights]

IN THEATERS . . .

-PS. DON'T DIE AGAIN a south park super hero smau !

THE PLOT; hero mysterion discovers that on a fateful night a girl watched him died and remembered to tell the tale. a girl, who had stolen his username and was one of his biggest stans.

pairing  ✧  mysterion (kenny mccormick) x fem!reader song inspo  ✧  kurxxed emeraldz [axxed remix] , luci4 tags. social media au, superhero au, high school au, humor (hopefully), romance, crack, angst, semi-plot filled, no beta.

☆ 🗒️ — notes ★ this is for fun! don’t take anything seriously. ★ sporadic updates, no set time or day. ★ this is for fun! don’t take anything seriously. ★ no written scenarios , will purely be online sources. ★ not all characters will be in this, so sorry if your favorite isn’t. ★ inspired by a MLB smau on twitter, unable to find it at this time. ★ there is a taglist, feel free to let me know if you’d like to be added!

ꕤ 🍇 — our cast main cast introductions. side cast introductions. friend group introductions.

☼ 🌂 — the storyline    ⠀   ♫  trailers; [ 1 , 2 & 3 ]    ⠀   ♫  episodes; [ 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9 , 10 , 11 , 12 , 13 , 14 , 15 , 16 , 17 , 18 , 19 , 20, 21 , 22 , 23 , 24 , 25 , TBD ! ]

i hope you enjoy the show, and let’s all have fun!! <3

🏷️ taglist | @lacunaanonymoused , @shinjichili , @gwopiee , @unscentedmayonnaise , @imthebiggestbird6 , @gtxbitch​ , @x-717-x, @nezykoi , @dolcid​ , @weird0o0 , @mmmaackerel , @llovekyle , @hand-writxen , @southparktegreity , @sukisprettyface, @neenieweenie​,  !

icons & images used are not of my own, but, the storyline, concept, and contents of this smau are my own. please do not repost this on another platforms without permission. © aralovrs 2023