#so the the league can profit off of her

[cassioppenny]

THERE'S NO NEED FOR THE UNMARKETABLE

[creamflix]

PERSEPHONE — ryomen sukuna x female reader [chapter 1]

summary: ryomen sukuna, ruthless tycoon of the alcohol industry, is used to crushing rivals. but when his former meek secretary walks into his office as his newest competitor, he’s blindsided. you’ve transformed into a powerful force, ready to go head-to-head in a high-stakes battle for dominance. as tension rises between you — both in business and something far more dangerous — sukuna realizes this fight might cost him more than just his empire.

content warnings & tags: enemies to lovers, modern au, business tycoon sukuna, mentions of depression and alcoholism, angst, slow-burn, mentions of other jujutsu kaisen characters (suguru geto, choso kamo, yuuji itadori) - this takes place in the same universe as my upcoming salaryman!choso fanfic

word count: 6,203 words

notes: and the award of best liar goes to.....in my defense i needed a break from all the smut writing, so please! please, enjoy the first official chapter of an impulse project. there will be multiple parts to it, so worry not! and please, grill me in the comments. get as critical as you can get, i need the advice. thank you for reading!

masterlist

"you’re fuckin’ shit at your job! pathetic, you hear? if i see you here ever again, god so help me, you’ll never find another job again."

those words still echoed in your mind. sukuna's sneer, the disgust that dripped off every syllable. that day, three years ago, you were swiftly replaced, just another disposable pawn in his empire. it wasn’t that you lacked skills. in fact, you were precise, efficient — everything a good secretary should be. but no one could keep up with him. sukuna’s fiery temper was like a storm you never saw coming. always brewing, always on the verge of eruption. the minute you faltered, even slightly, he was there, leaning over your desk, barking down at you like you were nothing.

the flashbacks always left a sour taste in your mouth, but you weren’t the same cowering woman anymore. back then, the memory of his cruel words had left you teary-eyed in the restroom stalls, wiping away mascara smudges and biting back sobs. but after you left, you swore you’d prove him wrong. you refused to be just another forgotten casualty in sukuna’s warpath.

and now, you had your own wine company.

persephone.

sukuna found the name laughable at first, but the numbers? they didn’t lie. your brand was making waves, quickly becoming a sensation in the high-end wine scene. it wasn’t just some trendy label either — it had substance. the quality was undeniable, and the industry was taking note. especially his industry.

“fuckin’ ‘persephone,’ huh?” sukuna muttered under his breath, leaning back in his sleek office chair. he was alone, fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest, his expression unreadable. “she’s really givin’ me a run for my money now.” he chuckled, but it wasn’t from amusement. it was that low, dangerous sound he made when something — or someone — was starting to piss him off.

he was the king of the alcohol game, dammit. ryomen had become a powerhouse in just four years, dominating the market with everything from vodka to rum, sake to whiskey. his brand wasn’t just a name; it was a status symbol. people flaunted his bottles like designer bags. you had ryomen on your bar? you were in a different league.

but lately, his sales were dipping in a very specific category. wine. your wine.

“you’re tellin’ me,” he grumbled, looking at the sales report, “that some chick i fired is takin’ a bite outta my profits? unbelievable.”

his current secretary, a polished woman with the demeanor of a robot, stood nearby, silent. she knew better than to interject when sukuna was simmering like this.

“it’s just wine, boss. nothing we can’t —”

“shut the fuck up,” he snapped, cutting her off. “i’ll tell you when it’s ‘nothing.’ right now, it’s a goddamn problem.”

his thoughts raced. part of him hated the fact that you were even on his radar again. you, the same woman who used to flinch when he raised his voice, the one who could barely get out an apology without her hands trembling. he could still remember how you’d stammer through excuses when he’d tear into you for something as simple as a typo in an email.

“god, she was useless,” he muttered to himself, leaning forward and running a hand through his pink hair. but then, a frown crept across his face. useless… or just unlucky enough to work under him?

he shook his head. no, he wasn’t going down that road. feelings, regret, all that emotional bullshit — none of it mattered. it only got in the way of the goal. sukuna was focused, driven, and nothing could pull him off track.

except maybe you.

he hadn’t dwelled on it much back then, too busy building his empire. but now, here you were, with your fancy brand and your goddamn ‘persephone’ label, threatening the wine segment he’d dominated for years.

“she must think she’s somethin’ special,” sukuna muttered under his breath, a smirk playing on his lips. “bet she’s struttin’ around now, huh? all high and mighty.”

he could imagine it — you, standing in front of a boardroom, confident, assured, looking down on everyone the way you probably thought he’d done to you. but that wasn’t going to last.

he rose from his chair, walking over to the window of his penthouse office that overlooked the city skyline. night was starting to fall, and the lights of the city below twinkled like stars.

“well, brat,” he said quietly to himself, voice low and dangerous, “you better enjoy it while it lasts. ‘cause when i’m done with you, you’ll wish i never fired you in the first place.”

he smirked at his own reflection in the glass. maybe he’d underestimated you back then. maybe he’d been too quick to write you off. but that didn’t change the fact that he was going to crush you now.

and this time, he wouldn’t even need to raise his voice.

saying that you were fucked was the understatement of the century.

the alcohol industry? you picked it on purpose — almost like tempting fate itself. it started innocently enough, with your last paycheck crumpled in your hand, drowning your sorrows in ryomen wine — the same wine you used to grab for sukuna when he’d bark orders at you. you swore you could still hear his voice every time you cracked open a bottle. the sharp aftertaste didn’t help, either. you switched to other brands when your wallet allowed: cloudy bay sauvignon blanc, stags' leap cabernet sauvignon, anything that felt like an escape from his shadow. but your funds ran dry faster than you expected, and soon enough, you found yourself back at your mother’s place, sulking like some NEET loser who couldn't face the real world.

and sukuna? that scumbag was true to his word. not only had he fired you with no remorse, but he made damn sure no one else would touch you with a ten-foot pole. rumors spread fast, and he made sure every single one painted you as the problem. you couldn’t get a job to save your life. so, you hustled. babysitting, tutoring, walking dogs — you did whatever you could just to scrape by. but it was humiliating, feeling like you were clawing at survival while your old boss sat on his throne, sipping his overpriced sake and not giving a second thought to you.

the worst part? you craved a drink. every time you got a little extra cash, you were tempted to blow it on just a bottle of something — anything — to numb the exhaustion. but your mother’s concerned eyes on your gaunt face made you stop. she was already worried enough.

then, one night, as you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone in your cramped childhood bedroom, you stumbled across a buzzfeed article: "how to make your own wine in ten easy steps!"

it was absurd — who the hell makes wine from scratch? but you clicked it anyway. the gears in your brain started turning as you read it over. step by step, you memorized every detail. the next morning, you raided the supermarket like a woman possessed, stuffing your cart with grapes, yeast, and whatever else you could get your hands on. you were going to make your own wine, because if you couldn’t afford it anymore, then screw it — you’d just make the damn thing.

you spent hours in the kitchen, your hands moving frantically, following the recipe to the letter. and somehow, against all odds, the first batch tasted… good. like, really good. your mother, usually uptight about everything you did, even cracked a rare smile when she tasted it.

“this is actually delicious,” she admitted, setting the glass down. “you should bring some to my gardening club next week. the ladies would love this.”

it was a small suggestion, but it lit a fire in you. making those first few test bottles for her friends? it wasn’t just a distraction anymore. it was the first real sense of purpose you’d felt in months. and when they praised it — truly praised it — you realized this wasn’t just a hobby. this was your way out. your way to rewrite the script that sukuna had burned into your life. you weren’t just going to survive. you were going to live.

what you didn’t expect was for your little wine experiment to become such a big hit. 

the ladies from your mom’s gardening club practically lost their minds over your creation. they praised your "natural talent" for winemaking, showering you with compliments and, more importantly, money. they insisted you make more, some even handing over cash in advance just to guarantee their next bottle. you were floored. you could practically hear the sound of money flowing in as you eagerly took order after order, working day and night in your makeshift wine lab — your old side hustles as a barista and a dog poop scooper long forgotten.

now? you were a businesswoman, and damn if you didn’t love saying it. your mom did too. she proudly bragged about you to anyone who would listen. whenever someone asked that tired, familiar question — "what’s your daughter been up to these days?" — your mom would light up, puffing her chest with pride as she told them all about her daughter’s successful wine venture.

time blurred as you threw yourself into your work, orders coming in steadily, and with them, a steady income. it wasn’t long before you had enough to take your mom out for a nice dinner — your treat. the look of pride on her face when the waiter handed you the bill? priceless. you didn’t even feel the pull to drown your sorrows in alcohol anymore. sukuna’s wine? fuck that. the high you got from creating something that people loved, the thrill of turning your passion into profit — that was better than any drink could ever be. but, of course, ambition is a funny thing. once you start getting a taste of success, you start wondering — what if i could get higher?

that’s when suguru geto crash-landed into your life. literally. 

one day, his car broke down in front of your house, a random stroke of luck that led to something unexpected. what started as a quick fix turned into a fast friendship, and in just a week, you went from being casual acquaintances to best friends. turns out, suguru’s aunt was part of your mom’s gardening club, so you two started seeing each other more often, and he quickly became your biggest supporter.

“you know,” he said one afternoon, lounging on your couch, “you should make this a real thing.”

“it is a real thing,” you laughed, raising an eyebrow at him.

“no, i mean like — patent it. sell it in supermarkets. let the whole damn world know about you.”

his words struck a chord in you. you stared at him for a moment, your mind spinning with the possibilities. could you really do that? could you take persephone to the next level?

“i don’t know, sugu,” you murmured, biting your lip. “that’s a lot of pressure. i mean, i’m doing fine as is —”

“fine?” he cut you off, grinning. “you’re thriving. don’t sell yourself short. you’ve got something special here, and you know it.”

his confidence in you was almost overwhelming. it made you wonder — what if he was right? what if this little wine brand of yours wasn’t just a side gig anymore, but something bigger? something that could rival even the big names like… ryomen.

the thought sent a chill down your spine. sukuna.

no. this was your time. your success. and this time, it was on your terms.

your confidence, once sky-high, was quick to deflate as reality hit you like a brick wall. how the hell were you going to get the money to start? you weren’t exactly rolling in cash, and even with all the orders you had, it wasn’t enough to cover what you needed to expand. you were, in every sense of the word, still a nobody in the business world.

sitting on the couch, your mind raced, spiraling through all the worst-case scenarios. that’s when suguru, ever the calm one, leaned back casually and smirked.

“honey, you forget,” he said, shooting you a knowing look, “my talent is breathing money.”

your eyes widened. “you’re seriously gonna fund this?”

“why not?” he shrugged, the confidence in his voice unwavering. “i know you’re serious about this, and i’d rather bet my money on you than anyone else. plus,” he added with a grin, “this is gonna be fun.”

his belief in you left you speechless, and soon after, your mother chipped in too, offering up what she could. “you’ve got something special here,” she said softly, her eyes shining with pride. “we both believe in you, and you know what you’re doing.”

with their help, you pooled together just enough to get things rolling, investing everything accordingly. you finally gave your company a name — persephone. it felt like a declaration. this wasn’t just a passion project anymore; it was your shot at proving yourself, at rewriting the story that sukuna tried to burn into your life.

you managed to get your first stock sent out to the supermarket you used to work in, thanks to your old manager who, having tasted your wine himself, vouched for it without hesitation. he agreed to stock your goods on a trial basis, just to see how the public would respond. you sent the stock out tentatively, crossing your fingers and hoping against hope that you could sell out, just maybe.

you spent that afternoon waiting for a response, nerves gnawing at you, until exhaustion pulled you into sleep. you weren’t prepared for what you’d wake up to.

when you blinked awake, the first thing you saw was your phone screen flashing — seven missed calls from suguru and three from your manager. panic gripped you as the worst thoughts raced through your mind. what if something went wrong? what if people got sick from your wine? what if —

you quickly dialed suguru back, your heart hammering in your chest.

“y/n!” his voice came through, excited, breathless. “you’re not gonna believe this. your entire stock? sold out in four hours. people are demanding for more! even the other supermarkets are calling in, asking for you!”

you blinked, the words not fully sinking in. sold out? your whole stock? your mind spun as you processed what he was saying. a rush of disbelief and euphoria flooded your senses all at once.

“i — what? are you serious?”

“dead serious,” suguru chuckled. “this is just the beginning, y/n. your life’s about to change, and fast.”

and in that moment, you knew — this wasn’t just a lucky break. this was it. your life was about to change forever, and sukuna? he wasn’t looming over you anymore. you were about to loom over him.

all of this was just one year ago. persephone blew up like dynamite, becoming the “it” drink with gen z practically overnight. people everywhere dubbed it “the hot girl drink,” and it spread like wildfire on social media. celebs, influencers, and even rappers were endorsing it — rihanna, beyonce, hell, even international actors from countries you never thought would give you the time of day. your pet project had turned into a full-blown empire, something you never even dreamed of. the insane part? it wasn’t just a fad — it was here to stay. persephone was the new, unbeatable champion of the wine industry, holding the number one spot for the entire year. nothing — and no one — could touch you.

market experts were scrambling to crack the secret behind your success. every business magazine, blog, and analyst was pouring over the data, trying to figure out how the hell a tiny, unknown brand could rise to the top so quickly. when forbes asked you to explain it, your response had been simple:

"all you need is a little bit of love in the mix. that's why everyone loves us."

love? bullshit.

sukuna scoffed, slamming the magazine down on his desk as he glared at your interview in the newest issue of forbes. his eyes burned with frustration as he scanned the glossy page, your face plastered on the front cover — forbes, of all things. he remembered when he was the one on the cover. and now it was you, alongside some other guy, suguru geto, your so-called "business partner." his hands fisted the edges of the magazine as he forced himself to read through the article, bile rising in his throat.

"fuckin’ love," sukuna muttered under his breath. "what a load of crap."

what really pissed him off wasn't the fact that ryomen wines had dropped to number two in the market. no, they were still crushing it in vodka, rum, and sake — dominating, even. sukuna still smugly held onto that victory, and in truth, ryomen's other sectors were thriving. but it wasn’t about the numbers.

it was about you.

you, of all people, had stolen his top spot. the quiet, cowering secretary he’d dismissed without a second thought had somehow clawed her way up to rival him. beat him. and that, more than anything else, was what grated on his nerves. it was like a personal insult, like every bottle of persephone on the shelves was a slap to his face.

he didn’t understand it — couldn’t wrap his head around how you, someone he once considered nothing more than a weak, insignificant nuisance, had built something this big. this powerful. it was unthinkable.

but it didn’t matter. because if there was one thing sukuna hated more than losing, it was losing to you.

“get ready,” he muttered, tossing the crumpled magazine into the trash. “this ain’t over.”

he wasn’t about to let you bask in your victory for long. oh no, sukuna never did well with defeat, and you were about to learn exactly what that meant.

sukuna’s sundays were always a mixed bag when his brothers came over. on the one hand, he secretly enjoyed not being alone, the house filled with chatter and energy he rarely allowed himself to admit he missed. on the other hand… they had their quirks, quirks he didn’t always have the patience for.

today was no exception.

“oii, nii-chan!! is it true you’re cooked?” yuuji’s loud voice rang through the kitchen as he leaned over the counter, his face full of boyish excitement. at eighteen, fresh out of high school, yuuji was all energy and enthusiasm, completely missing the tension in sukuna’s glare.

“we are not cooked, brat. now scram!” sukuna growled, his patience already wearing thin. it wasn’t that he didn’t like yuuji; he loved the kid in his own harsh way. but today was not the day to bring up the one topic that had been gnawing at him for weeks now — persephone.

yuuji, of course, remained completely oblivious to his brother’s thinly veiled rage. “dude, we need to try it out — for sampling purposes, of course!” he corrected himself quickly when sukuna’s eyes darkened, the older man’s low growl sending a shiver down his spine. choso, standing quietly by the side, let out a silent sigh of exasperation that went unnoticed by both of them. as the eldest brother of the three, choso was used to playing mediator between sukuna and yuuji’s endless energy.

“talking about that cheap wine in front of your brother? seems like choso here isn’t teachin’ ya manners, brat,” sukuna scoffed, throwing a sharp glare at choso. but choso wasn’t fooled by the display — he knew sukuna well enough to recognize the silent plea in that look. sukuna wasn’t just angry; he was frustrated and on edge, and right now he needed choso’s help to avoid losing face in front of their younger brother.

choso, ever the calm and rational one, stepped in smoothly. “sukuna’s right, yuuji. why don’t we try some of his wine instead? ryomen’s pretty coveted, you know. you can even tell your friends you’ve got the inside scoop on the best stuff,” he suggested, his voice soft and persuasive. he knew yuuji’s weak spot — flexing on his friends — and wasn’t above playing that card to steer the conversation away from persephone.

yuuji’s eyes lit up at the mention of flexing to his friends. “yeah, that’d be awesome! ryomen’s, like, top-tier,” he agreed quickly, the previous excitement over persephone fading as he eagerly darted toward sukuna’s personal bar.

“but only a sip!” choso called after him, his tone firm but affectionate. yuuji grinned and gave a thumbs-up, too eager to care about the warning.

as soon as yuuji was out of earshot, sukuna’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though his scowl remained. “thanks,” he muttered under his breath, leaning against the kitchen counter with a scowl that barely concealed his relief.

choso merely nodded, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “you should really tell him what’s bothering you, sukuna. pretending it’s not a problem won’t make it go away.”

sukuna’s jaw clenched at the suggestion. “i’m not pretending anything,” he shot back. “just not giving that cheap wine any more attention than it deserves.”

choso didn’t argue — he knew better than to press sukuna when he was like this. but even as they heard yuuji clattering around in the bar, talking excitedly to himself about the bottles he found, choso couldn’t help but wonder how much longer sukuna could keep up this front before the tension snapped.

soon enough, sukuna bid choso and yuuji goodbye, grunting a half-hearted “good luck” to yuuji for his academics and giving a curt nod to choso. it was their silent agreement to continue taking care of yuuji, a bond forged through the ups and downs of their unconventional family. deep down, sukuna wished his brothers could stay longer, but he knew his work environment would be more chaotic than conducive to yuuji’s growth. the kid needed some normalcy, a chance to be a teenager without the weight of sukuna's world pressing down on him.

choso had that normalcy. he had a simple job and quiet life waiting for him back home, something that balanced him out in a way that sukuna hadn’t found in years. as he watched them leave, sukuna couldn’t help but wonder what life could have been like if he hadn’t run off at twenty-seven, leaving his twenty-two-year-old brother to shoulder the burden of raising a thirteen-year-old yuuji all by himself. it felt like a dick move, something no older brother should do. but he’d made up for it in his own way — by rapidly building a name for himself in the alcohol industry, ensuring his brothers were taken care of.

the weight of those thoughts pressed on him as he closed the door behind them. he had sent ample money back to support choso and yuuji, ensuring they lived comfortably and never struggled. yuuji’s education had never been compromised, and sukuna took a twisted sense of pride in that. everything he did — every deal struck, every bottle sold — was silently for them, though he’d never admit it out loud. they knew, though. they understood the sacrifices he’d made and the lengths he’d go to protect them.

leaning against the closed door, sukuna let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. the house felt empty now, the echoes of yuuji's laughter fading away. but he was used to this emptiness. it was part of the job, part of the life he’d chosen. yet, as he glanced at the bottle of ryomen wine sitting on the counter, the nagging feeling in the back of his mind grew louder. persephone was thriving, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than just a business — it was a challenge, a direct competition that tugged at his pride.

he shook his head, pushing away the thoughts. no need to dwell on that right now. there would be time to strategize, to find a way to reclaim what he’d lost. for now, he had work to do, deals to make, and a reputation to maintain. but the tension lingered, a constant reminder that the game was far from over.

every business professional and their mother had heard of the forbes awards — one of the highest honors in the industry, recognizing outstanding achievements in categories like innovation, leadership, and entrepreneurship. it was a big deal, and of course, sukuna was invited. how could he not be? he was the face of ryomen, and ryomen was synonymous with him. it would have been a moral sin to overlook his presence.

but alongside him, in a stunning twist of fate, you were invited as well. your heart raced with excitement as you entered the grand hall, arm in arm with suguru, who wore his usual calm demeanor. the ambiance was electric, filled with murmurs of anticipation and the soft clinking of glasses. you felt like you were floating, clad in the prettiest gown you’d ever worn, the fabric hugging you in all the right places. your excitement bubbled over as you and suguru chatted animatedly, sharing whispers and laughter about the event.

sukuna sat a few seats ahead of you, his presence commanding attention even before the ceremony began. he glanced back at you and suguru, his brow twitching in annoyance. that bastard, he thought, irritation prickling at his nerves. was he annoyed because you were here, or because you were here with suguru? who the hell does he think he is, cozying up to you like that?

he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus on the stage as the lights dimmed. why the fuck does it matter? sukuna knew he should be above this, above whatever twisted emotions were gnawing at him. but it was hard to shake the feeling that your success was a direct challenge to him. persephone had blown up like a wildfire, and now here you were, practically glowing next to some random man.

the announcer’s voice boomed, echoing through the hall as the first award was presented. sukuna’s mind raced. everyone in this room is waiting to see me win. his heart pounded as he thought about the years of work, the sacrifices he made to build ryomen into what it was. these people need to remember who the real titan in the room is.

he couldn't help but steal glances at you, laughter dancing on your lips as you leaned into suguru’s space, that smile of yours bright enough to rival the stage lights. you think you’re some kind of star now, huh? the thought twisted in his gut. you don’t know what it took to get here.

as winners were announced, the crowd erupted in applause, and sukuna forced himself to smile politely, though inside he was a storm. you’ll never be more than a little brat who got lucky, he told himself. and yet, here you are, basking in the glory that should have been mine.

with every name called, the tension in sukuna grew. he could feel the eyes of the room shifting between him and you. they’re waiting to see what i do next, he mused, resentment and determination colliding within him. they think this is the peak. they have no idea what’s coming.

the night was still young, and the real competition was just beginning.

“and this year’s forbes most innovative company award goes to — y/n l/n & suguru geto for persephone!”

you sat there dumbfounded, too shocked to move, even as cheers erupted around you, your name being called echoing in your mind like a beautiful melody. suguru was beside you, his excitement contagious as he urged you on, “y/n, we won! go on, what are you waiting for?”

you won. you really won. the gravity of it settled in, and you felt a rush of emotions. you hoped your mother was tuned in tonight — oh, who were you kidding? your mother and every other mother in the room had tuned in, probably with their phones in hand, eagerly documenting the night. your mom's hourly reminders of “forbes award show tonight, my daughter is winning” played in your mind like a comforting mantra.

it took all your physical strength to push yourself up from your seat, legs trembling as you shakily walked toward the stage. the camera panned in on your nervous expression, capturing the moment for the world to see. when the award was handed to you, a giddy laugh escaped your lips, a blend of disbelief and joy.

“i — i don’t even know where to begin. i’m just… i’m just someone who started out in her mother’s kitchen.” the crowd chuckled, and you caught a glimpse of suguru, his face radiating pride. “and here i am, getting an award from forbes.” the room erupted into cheers, and you could feel the warmth of their applause wrapping around you.

“i….i made it, mom! i really did, i—” your eyes inadvertently wandered, locking onto sukuna, who was seated a few rows ahead. his expression was thunderous, livid anger practically radiating off him, his tattoos appearing to shift in the dim light as he stared you down. if looks could kill, you were certain you’d disintegrate on the spot.

for a fleeting moment, you felt like that meek little secretary from years ago — the girl who cowered at his angry words, whose confidence had crumbled under his disdain. your breath caught in your throat, palms clammy around the award that suddenly felt like a shackle, the blaring stage lights pressing down on you.

“t-thank you,” you mumbled quickly, and with that, you rushed off the stage, confusion buzzing in the air as people murmured about your abrupt exit. suguru’s brows furrowed with concern as you settled back into your seat beside him.

“hey, what’s wrong? talk to me,” he whispered, his hand finding yours beneath the table, offering a comforting squeeze.

“i saw him,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, the reality of your win overshadowed by the weight of sukuna’s gaze.

the moment hung in the air between you, an electric tension that made your heart race. you had won tonight, yet the thrill felt tainted, as if sukuna’s presence had darkened your moment. suguru's grip tightened, grounding you, but the storm brewing inside you was harder to quell. this victory should have felt like a celebration, but instead, it brought the ghosts of your past crashing back, threatening to overshadow everything you had worked so hard for.

you should be counting your lucky stars that you exited the stage as soon as possible because if you had stood there for even one more minute, holding the award and basking in the stage lights, sukuna would have popped a blood vessel.

how could you — of all people — have won the award? it felt like a cruel joke, a slap in the face to all the hard work ryomen had poured into every drink they crafted. sugary excuse of a wine — that’s what he thought of your creation. it didn’t matter that you had poured your heart into persephone; to him, it was a mere distraction, a gimmick that somehow managed to catch fire while he’d been left to stoke the flames of a legacy he had built with his own hands.

sukuna’s jaw clenched, and his hands balled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he tried to reign in the rage bubbling beneath the surface. what the hell did you do to deserve this? it wasn’t fair. i revolutionized the industry, he thought bitterly, a storm brewing in his chest. i put everything into ryomen, and yet here you are, stealing the spotlight with your little pet project.

he couldn’t even pay attention to the next awards being given out; they were just a backdrop to the humiliation he felt. this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. he scanned the room, trying to gauge the reactions of others. do they think this is a joke? he wanted to scream, to lash out at anyone who dared to think persephone was on his level. the mere thought of you being lauded for your success twisted in his gut like a knife.

you didn’t know the sacrifices it took to build an empire, he raged inwardly. you didn’t endure the sleepless nights, the harsh decisions, the pressure of making a brand that people could depend on. to sukuna, ryomen wasn’t just a company; it was an extension of himself, a representation of all he had sacrificed for his brothers, for his future. and now, you had waltzed in and claimed an accolade that felt undeserved.

every cheer from the crowd felt like a taunt, a reminder of how far you had come and how deeply he loathed that it was you who had taken this honor away from him. you’ll never be more than a flash in the pan, he promised himself, a mantra to ease the burning rage. i’ll make sure of that.

his mind raced, plotting and scheming as he gripped the armrest of his chair, knuckles white. i need to show them who the real titan is. he had to reclaim his dominance, to put you in your place. it didn’t matter how many influencers endorsed you or how popular your product became; this was just the beginning, and he would not be overshadowed by someone he once considered insignificant.

as you settled back into your seat, a shaky smile still lighting up your face, sukuna's gaze hardened. this isn’t over, he vowed silently, his heart pounding with a mix of anger and resolve. you may have won tonight, but I’ll be damned if i let you steal my thunder.

days had passed since the forbes award show, but the victory felt hollow for sukuna. sure, he walked out with an armful of awards: the stevie awards, recognizing achievements in management and customer service; the international business awards, celebrating excellence in global innovation and leadership; and the business excellence awards, which honored outstanding performance across the board. it was a haul that solidified his status as a titan in the industry. but even with all that, his mind was consumed by the nagging echo of your name.

how the hell did you manage to steal that one award? it nagged at him like a splinter, refusing to be ignored. it didn’t make sense. even though your win seemed like a mere trinket compared to his accolades, it felt like a theft — a theft of something more precious than gold.

wasn’t it enough that i built this empire from the ground up? he thought, frustration simmering just below the surface. i sacrificed everything to get here, and you — of all people — come in and claim a piece of the pie? it infuriated him to think of you standing on that stage, giggling with disbelief, so carefree and unburdened by the weight of the industry that he had shouldered for years. i’ve earned this!

flashbacks from the award show rolled through his mind like a montage — standing on stage, the lights shining down on him as he accepted award after award. the applause ringing in his ears, the pride swelling in his chest as he shook hands with industry leaders, the kind of recognition that validated every sacrifice he had made.

“congratulations, sukuna,” one executive had said, clapping him on the back. “you’ve really outdone yourself this year.”

“what can i say?” he had replied with a smirk, “i’m just that good.”

yet, while those moments should have felt triumphant, all he could think about was you. that fleeting moment when you stood up there — why couldn’t he shake the image of your smile, your shocked expression? it stirred something within him, an unsettling mix of envy and anger.

you didn’t earn it, he seethed inwardly. you didn’t work your way through sleepless nights or the pressure of making decisions that could sink a company. you just made a drink and got lucky with some influencers.

he wanted to dismiss your success as a fluke, but something about it gnawed at him. why does it bother me so much? he questioned himself, feeling a surge of confusion mixed with annoyance. you weren’t a threat, you were an annoyance, a temporary blip in the industry. yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were becoming something more — something significant.

the thought of you overshadowing his hard-earned victories was infuriating. i won’t let you steal my thunder, he promised himself, his resolve hardening with every passing day. he could not let the narrative shift. this isn’t over; i’ll make sure everyone knows that ryomen is the name that matters, not your little hobby.

but as the days turned into weeks, sukuna found it increasingly difficult to focus solely on his empire. every time he turned on the news or scrolled through social media, your name surfaced, wrapped in praise and admiration, while he was left wondering how you had somehow infiltrated his thoughts, stirring up feelings he had long buried. it’s just a phase, he told himself, clenching his jaw. i’ll crush this little competition of yours. soon, no one will even remember your name.

but deep down, a flicker of doubt loomed. what if they do?

comment on any of the chapters to be added to the taglist, please have your age displayed or your request will be ignored! thanks (: produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡ banners by cafekitsune

[animeaandp]

[Emptying drafts-87 left]

(Lost the direction I wanted to go in with this)

MHA Prompt

Warning: smut, swearing, violence, angst

Dabi x pregnant civilian reader

You're Dabi’s neighbor in the crap-box apartments he lived in before joining the league. You were homeless for a while before landing a job selling your quirk's essence. It's hard to produce and sell on your own at first, but big surprise that the criminal world was happy to help. So you became a milking cow metaphorically and sort of literally; you created a product for others to sell and in return you get some of the profit. It’s just enough to get by but without any other prospects or desires that’s fine with you. Nothing wrong with a simple life.

Whenever you’d cook too much food you offered it to Dabi, or on occasion asked if he wanted to join for a movie night; just trying to make friends with your neighbor. He usually brushed you off and if he wasn’t interested then that’s okay. You stopped knocking on his door so much.

The walls are paper thin though so he knew plenty about you without having a single proper conversation. He knows you grew up in an orphanage before aging out with no one and nowhere to go. Dabi learned your favorite movies and shows, that you were actually a really good cook who learned most of it from the cooking channel, your favorite color was green and apparently everything in your apartment was some shade of the color. You loved snakes and were allergic to strawberries. Your best friend was someone named Maddie and you always spoke too damn loud on the phone with her. Telling you to shut the hell up was one of the only reasons Dabi ever spoke to you.

One day you’re confused to see him standing at your door bc you weren’t on the phone or being loud in any way. He wasn’t here for that; it was his first time realizing what you did for work and wanted what you sold. Zero intention of paying for it of course, but before he can threaten you you’re shoving a bottle into his chest and telling him it’s on the house.! It just made you so happy he finally talked to you. Dabi manages a “thanks” then goes back to his apartment.

The stuff worked like a charm and became the source of your interactions with Dabi from then on. Usually you just gave him a new bottle but on occasion he’d throw some money at you before leaving. It was his way of ‘treating you well’ and making sure to never owe you shit.

One day there’s no answer, even though he knows you’re inside; he heard the door slam shut earlier. He pounds on the door shouting at you to open up but no response. The only reasonable option is to kick down your door and interrogate you as to why you’d ever ignore him. But he walks into a mess and blood. Dabi listens but can’t hear anything, and again there’s no response when he calls your name. Flames tickle his fingers just in case as he continues further into the space. The door ahead has a huge blood splatter on it and already cracked open. Dabi pushes through, it’s a bedroom, but still doesn’t see anything, “y/n…i know you’re in here….come on don’t make me start a fire to sniff you out.” The trail continued to the bathroom, and it had to be where you were. Closed but not locked, Dabi opens it and doesn’t understand what he’s looking at. ‘Is she dead.? Was she murdered??’ You’re slumped against the side of the tub, stripped naked, covered in blood and bruises. You’re not moving. Dabi’s not sure if he can see you breathing either, what’s in front of him is such a mess.

Should…

...should he leave you?

Or hide your body? If the police found out everyone would think he did it. There were enough bottles in the corner of your bedroom to last him forever as well. He could just close the door, loot your stuff, and get back to his own life.

He could leave

He could walk away right now

Close the door and never look back

‘Just leave’

“…This bitch is gonna owe me big time.”

.

.

You wake up the next morning tucked into bed with your injuries tended to and bandaged. The television is on and an overwhelming scent of bleach makes you want to hurl. You sit up coughing and cry in pain immediately. “Lay down idiot before your stitches-WHOA! TF!? HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!!”

“!?!?….D-Dabi-??”

“Drop the fucking knife-you’re enough of a pain in the ass as is.!”

“Wha-AH!!?” You collapse to the floor gripping your stomach now that the adrenaline of the moment has subsided. Davi kicks the knife across the room and stands over you, “Looks like you’re back to being a helpless damsel in distress. Good. You’re a real bitch when you’re injured.” He tried to pick you up but you slap his hands away with whatever strength you have left. He snarls at you, "now what.?? What are you crying about?”

“Don’t touch me again…please.”

"??"

"..."

"…Ah, I get it…a boyfriend? Or some stray who couldn’t keep it in his pants.?” You clawed your way back towards your bed, trying not to cry anymore, “Please don’t make fun of me. Not right now.” He rolls his eyes walking towards you “You sure you don’t want help.? You look pathetic.” You ignore Dabi’s jabs while trying to pull yourself back into bed. Laying there you didn’t look much better; like a dying fish gasping for water on the sidewalk. Dabi crouches down beside you. “Feeling better puppy??” Usually you found his snarky comments funny enough to at least smile, but your eyes look right through him. “What happened; when did you find me? How? What did you do-?” “My my y/n, you’re awfully chatty when you're about to die. Maybe I shouldn’t have helped you.”

“Why then.?”

“…..I need your shit.”

“……ha, haha…”

“whatever. Don’t get up again, my sutures aren’t very professional but you should live. You might look like me, but…..that’s the part where you flatter me.”

“I’d rather bleed out.”

“Yeah, keep it up with that smart mouth then.”

Dabi opens a window to air out the bleach he used to clean up most of the blood. He’d found your medicine cabinet and gives you a handful of pills before going to lounge on your couch and watch tv.

A few hours later and Dabi’s freely going through all of your things again, taking advantage of your lack of mobility. “Remind me; why’d you try and slit my throat earlier.?.” You laid in bed staring up at the ceiling as Dabi ransacked your place there was nothing interesting to find anyways. “I thought you were him.” “The guy who did this?” “Mhm. It was just a reflex; sorry.” Dabi gives up his explorations to lay beside you You were right there wasn’t any good shit in your apartment. “Save it. I doubt it’ll be the last time. I’m still waiting for your answer; who was it?….no, no no puppy don’t start that sniveling crap again. Forget about it then. Just stop crying.” "O-Okay…"

.

.

Over the next couple of weeks, at least once a day, Dabi invited himself into your apartment to check on you. He always helped himself to whatever suited as ‘payment’ for his aid and you never bat an eye. But it’s been a month now and you weren’t feeling any better. Your body had healed well but you still felt like you’ve been hit by a truck every day. Dabi didn’t remember you being so crabby before your incident or remotely so emotional.

You were becoming a real pain in the ass but it's hard to take his insults to heart when his cheeks are stuffed with a third serving of the dinner you made him. You reassure him though, “I'll find a doctor to go see soon. Promise."

"Good."

Bad. Veryyy bad. The worst bad-nothing could be worse-the very worst very bad thing was happening and it was bad bad bad.

"You need to move. Now."

"Wha-No fucking way, I was here first; you move jackass!?"

"First you inconvenience me by getting knocked up and now you want to make me move??"

"No but just get over it!"

"I'm not listening to you and your bastard baby cry every day y/n!! MOVE.NOW.!"

"...."

"....I.."

.

.

You don't move but you don't see or speak to Dabi after that day. You barely let him hear you make a sound to prove that you were even alive. Dabi had the peace and quiet he demanded but it' too boring now. And he's hungry.

Eventually he bangs on your door and shoves a raggedy teddy bear into your chest, swearing that he wasn’t changing a damn diaper. You fiddle with the toy, still finding it perfect as is despite the damage. “I’ll call you Dabi.” Dabi growls at your little jest and pushes his way into your apartment, “just make us some dinner already I’m fucking starved.” “Of course” you steal a quick hug from him as he passed “I’ve missed you too” and he’s disgusted that he allowed such things from you.

His disgust grows as he finds himself walking with you to run errands, building furniture, and even reading a damn book on how to parent for dummies. “This is such bullshit, why do I have to read this crap to you” he tosses the book and rolls over to hug your pillow, too tired to keep looking at that boring book. You find it so cute how grumpy he gets when he’s tired. “Go home then. Get some sleep, you’ve been up with me all day.” He grumbles his usual swears at you while digging himself further into your bed, “I’m sleeping here. Deal with it.” “…happy to.”

A couple months pass by and Dabi is so full of it. You listen to him gripe on and on about how much pregnancy is ruining your body and what an ugly whale you were now, yet he can never keep his hands off your belly for more than a moment. He’s entirely fascinated by it all but every time you tease him he says something rude and snarky about what an eye sore you were. “These aren’t so bad though” “!?DABI..!!?” You flick his forehead but can’t stop giggling as he rubs his face in your cleavage. You didn’t mind it or anything about your life right now. Taking care of this freeloader made you the happiest you’d ever been.

.

.

People like you didn’t get to stay happy though. What a fool you were to forget that. You and Dabi.

.

.

Dabi woke up one morning to find a note saying you ran to the store and would be back soon. He looks out the window to see it’s raining before crumbling the note and setting it on fire with a sigh. He really hated how much of a not-completely-horrible-person you were turning him into. Sick. He snatches your umbrella and heads out to find you. “I swear if that whale catches a cold…”

His footsteps come to an abrupt stop. That last splash under his shoes wasn’t water. It was something thicker and red flowing out of the alleyway. Dabi follows the trail “son of a-“ and rushes to check for a pulse. It’s faint but just enough that you might live if he hurries.

Dabi wouldn’t be there when you woke up in the hospital but he was waiting once you got back home. He already knew what the doctors were going to tell you, that you’d be going home alone. A week later you trudge through the door but Dabi thinks he might be seeing things. Like a ghost you don’t make a sound, or blink. You don’t react to Dabi’s presence at all until he knocks your purse out of your hand and yanks you in by your neck. “Answer me when I’m talking to you brat. Tell me what you need already.” But your eyes don’t sparkle or look mischievous looking back at Dabi. You’d gone numb. So Dabi silently took care of you (to the best of his abilities) until you go from numb to grief stricken.

It was such a headache. The tears, crying and wailing over a half folded pile of baby clothes, or into Dabi’s shoulder once your crying woke him up and he needed you to settle down. He’d drag you into his arms, ignoring your shouting to piss off, and force you back into bed. Then keep you trapped in his full embrace until you exhausted yourself and passed out. Dabi complained constantly but regardless he was there with you.

Finally, Dabi walks in one day to see you packing up the last of the baby junk. He squats down beside you to start throwing in the last of it into the box. You no longer got sad or angry at him for doing such things, you knew it was his way of trying to help you move on. “It’s just…I found something that made me look forward to living…” Dabi rolls his eyes, “pleaseeee no more waterworks I JUST got here.” You chuckle and punch him in the shoulder, “You’re such a heartless asshole.” “and the only reason you’re alive.” He pushes you back and goes to place the box in storage as you plopped down on the couch. You recline comfortable and welcome Dabi slithering over on top of you. “Besides, at least now you’re not a whale anymore and, thanks to whatever fucked up god is out there, these two are still here.” You laugh tugging on his hair trying to pull his face out of your chest. “You’re too old to be acting like this!!” “Shut up and respect your elders you little rat.” He slaps your hand away but eases up; resting his head on your cleavage as his arms coiled around you. “You’re young. You have plenty of time to crap out another baby, assuming you can stay out of trouble long enough to.” You tickle his back with a fond smile, “If only I could.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…???….what are you doing??” “Smelling you.” “Uh huh, yeah I got that. Wanna tell me why though??” Dabi drags his face over your chest and up your neck, taking deep breathes all the way to your ear and into your hair. “I’m committing you to memory.” You grip onto his shoulders when he suddenly pushes up and his knees force yours to spread under him. “W-Why???” He scoffs in your ear and whispers “you don’t really expect me to stick around to help raise my own child do you?” “What are…nghh…Dabi wait…” He continues nibbling your ear though as his hands roam to places they haven’t been before. “Wait for what. You want a baby so I’m gonna give you one” “Wh-“ “Maybe two.” ‘Two’?!!” “Mhm. Depending on how good this is.” You feel a growing heat that you weren’t afraid of being consumed by. “This is a horrible idea” you whisper lifting your hips for him “what if I do expect you to stick around?” “Why would you expect that?” “I don’t expect anything from a person like you” you hike your leg up and shiver feeling his lips drag down it “but I’d want you to.” He furrows his brows trying to control himself but this is already more patience than he’d typically exercise. “I don’t want that.” “Do it anyways.” “I don’t wanna.” “Fine. Good luck finding someone else to put up with you, or feed you.” “Hmmm, good point” Dabi’s mouth moved hungrily down your thighs, digging his fingers into both as he went, “a few more and maybe I’ll stick around til their first birthday.” “T-There’s a Christmas turkey in it for you if you stick around for their second.!” “Where’s a rat like you finding something like that” he mumbles between licks before you tense up “From wherever a villainous lowlife like you can steal one from!.Fuck…” “ha ha that’s my girl.”

All your free time is spent rolling around with Dabi, listening to him growling and grunting in your ear, reminding you how he swears to never change a single diaper or be forced to do anything. You try asking him why he’s doing this then and finally he says “You wouldn’t stop crying about wanting a damn baby so I’m giving your needy little cunt one. That’s it.! Just feeding your greedy greedy body what it wants..” and he fucked you with that need. His hands and mouth are never not on you and it’s unsurprising how his lack of shame extended into the bedroom. You think once the pregnancy test says positive it’d all stop but “no way I’m passing this up.” You’re confused and trying to slow him down as he throws you on your bed. “Pass what up? I thought you’d never touch me again now that I got what I wanted?” “No. Because now it’s my turn to get what I want.” He pushes your body into the position he likes and wastes no time. “Nine months without having to waste my time and money on condoms? Absofuckinglutely.” “Wait that’s not entirely true and you never paid for-!?“ “oh shut up, I’m breaking in my new toy.”

True to his word you’re run ragged by his infinite libido. Even after he joins some villain group he comes running to get between your thighs every chance he gets, including when he shouldn’t. One day there’s some loud banging on his door and he slaps his hand over your mouth, refusing to pause his ascent. Then the banging is on your door and you panic hearing shouting for Dabi to open up. “Not a fucking sound” he barks down at you before picking up his pace, ignoring the person’s demands that he not be late to another meeting. You do as you’re told and bare his forceful climax by biting your pillow. Your voice shakes as you try to find it “I…I’m in no condition to be handled like that..” “You’ll take whatever the fuck I give you.” He pulls the sheets over you and dips his head to kiss your cheek goodbye before getting up. You’re too exhausted to care about the arguing and shouting when he finally opens the door to let in whoever it was. You close your tired eyes and just hope Dabi finds all his clothes quickly so they all leave. Then you get a well deserved break while Dabi ran off with his buddies to go do bad guy shit. “*sigh* not a bad life for us at all..”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Tontos HC:

Tontos is the Bruce Wayne of the Woso world. Like she is the richest footballer (even more than Messi and Ronaldo). Like the company she inherits is something she can live off comfortably.

But the thing is, Tontos doesn’t want to be rich. She dumps a lot of funding into her parents company for the workers but increased salaries and more benefits equals increased productivity and retention, so the company is making more money. She gives full benefits to all employees (including part time and contractors) but this back fires as it becomes the #1 worker friendly company. When she sees she is gaining more money from this she begins converting her parents buildings into green buildings with a full plan that is successful to try and get rid of her money. This turns into a branched off business arm that is all for converting other companies’ buildings into green buildings, sparing no expense. It turns out to be so successful in an effective and cost efficient way that she is gaining more profit.

Tontos then goes as to so far as to slash her own salary in the company and invests it into the company but its just so successful she’s gaining profit at an alarming rate. Like she has more money than she knows what to do with. And of course this catches the attention of the media meaning more profits for her company.

Tontos next thought is to invest in her hometown and Barcelona. She makes sure all the buildings are up to date and funds schools, hospitals, charities, clinics, sets up trusts for every one of them, anything to get rid of her money, but by god she is failing at it. Miserably. Like somehow, some way, this is just feeding back into her company and giving her more profits. Like she is just becoming richer against her will.

Because of all this positive PR, people invest into Tontos company. Tontos practically begs for them to stop, only for her cries to land on deaf ears. Tontos then sets up a foundation to pay for everyone’s college tuition in her home town and Barcelona and it begins to work until the public realises what she is doing and also invests in the foundation and everyone’s college begins to be free. She gets so annoyed because she can’t even give her money to her own foundation.

So Tontos tries to invest in football. She funds all of Barca’s trips, gets them the best hotels and training facilities. The healthiest food, the best medical care, anything she can think of. She even goes so far as to fund the team and allowance so they can give their jerseys to children without it docking their pay. All of this just increases play and health among the team that they begin to win more and by a larger margin that their profits soar meaning so does Tontos money. The next step is to invest in other leagues like the NWSL and the WSL but the same effect happens. She even funds a majority of Project ACL but even with all this spending it barely makes a mark in Tontos wealth.

But Tontos lives with Mapi and Ingrid and all their teens and kids. Surely she can distribute some wealth amongst them. Mapi and Ingrid are as stubborn as the day is long and refuse to take any money from Tontos but Tontos secretly pays for everything thing like utilities and groceries. She tries to fund Dirtbag to go to art school but Dirtbag has come up with a mysterious way to give it back to Tontos and it frustrates her to no end. She tries to give some to Sol but Sol teams uo with Dirtbag and just gives it back to her. She’s put away a sizable college fund for all five of Ingrid and Mapi’s children so they can go to college debt free wherever they want and does this for Nena too.

At this point Tontos is just so frustated with trying to get rid of her money but can’t seem to find a way to spend it all. Like after a meeting with her accountants, Ingrid and Mapi just come home to Tontos lying on the ground with Toast in her chest just staring at the ceiling. When Mapi and Ingrid walk over to her to make sure she’s okay, all they get is “I have too much money.”

Okay so I actually love this and have more thoughts:

There's no board overseeing the company and no shareholders so the sole profits are going to Tontos so all of her profits are just being invested back and raising salaries and supporting local charities and Tontos takes the bare minimum because she's already getting paid by Barcelona and Norway to play football

She's trying everything she can to try and limit the amount of money she's getting but all she's doing is getting a very good reputation and people flock to her companies because she gives such good benefits and such good standards for management

She's paid off all of Barcelona's debt and is secretly funnelling money into Mapi and Ingrid's accounts even though they insist she shouldn't pay rent

She's paid for Dirtbag (and Sol's @girlgenius1111 ) uni tuition but they insist on paying her back someday but she tries to tell them that she doesn't want that

She pays for Teeny's art school and all of Sunshine's cameras and Skatt's terrarium and uni and Cub's cafe and Bebita's motorbikes.

She even spoils Toast to the max but no matter how much she spends and donates, it just finds its way back to her and she has no idea what she should do to get rid of it all

[cyber-phobia]

Another Fic-Dump from my ao3 history/bookmarks:

Ascendant by Gentrychild

-Abandoned, but man what's there is really good. Izuku has AFO and tries to be a hero anyway... without making it look like he has a bazillion quirks XD

Known Variables by pocketramblr

-In the world we know, OFA is a closely guarded secret. But in this one? Not so much. All Might and his quirk are very much public knowledge, and he's used to fending off people who want to inherit his quirk. So when Izuku comes along, and asks instead if he could be a hero without a quirk at all...? Things change.

In spite of a Nail by Hayato (TheLennyBunny)

-I'll be 100% honest, don't remember this one but I have the link saved in my bookmarks so I think I enjoyed it.

Go from Here by AdelimeCaffrey

-Bakugo and Izuku's parents see the bullying earlier on, and decide to intervene

Crimson Murders by Melancholic_lotus13

-Quirkless, the unwilling Champion of the Dead, and the main target for a Murderer? Great comb

Izuku is the Law By FallingBackwards

-Izuku is young, and he is small. But that hasn't stopped him from being the leader of a crime-infested city district. (This one is in multiple parts)

Unnamed by Emmy984

-Class 1-A? I think you mean the 1-A killers...

How to Murder you Father by Gentrychild

-Pretty self explanatory. Izuku wants to kill his dad.

Refraction by ekourege

-Izuku is strange. But he can see the future, so maybe give him some leeway?

Different Demons (But they're all from Hell) by GriffinRose

-Eri was saved by Izuku. She settles into her new life. Izuku understands her a little better than anyone is comfortable with. (This is a Sequel)

The Perfect Successor by Athenya

-Izuku finds a man dying in an alley, and chooses to help him - despite knowing this man is a villain. It makes his life better and worse.

Dear Santa, Please Make Stain Stop Sending Me Fanmail by Try_Two_Mothman

-Izuku recieve mail from Stain. Unexpected, unusual mail...

[Content] by Teobot

-Basically my favorite MHA fic ever, though I wish it had continued to update the later continuations. Very good, very violent, very sweet Eri.

A Hero with the Mask of a Villain by SomethingOrElse

-Izuku doesn't get OFA, and turns to the League instead.

You either die a Villain or see yourself become a Hero by Fantasy_Freak2

-Class 1-A is an infamous tradition at UA high, a villain reform program for children who are walking a dangerous path or have already crossed the line. What happens when they actually try to become heroes?

As always, I am also here to provide Bleach fics (mainly of the Grimmichi or Uraichi variety) by request in my DMs. Or if you'd prefer to raid my Google docs of unfinished / barely started MHA fic ideas for your own profit instead, yall can hit me up for that too.

links below

Ascendant by Gentrychild

Known Variables by pocketramblr

In spite of a Nail by Hayato (TheLennyBunny)

Go from Here by AdelimeCaffrey

Crimson Murders by Melancholic_lotus13

Izuku is the Law By FallingBackwards

Unnamed by Emmy984

How to Murder your Father by Gentrychild

Refraction by ekourege

Different Demons (But they're all from Hell) by GriffinRose

The Perfect Successor by Athenya

Dear Santa, Please Make Stain Stop Sending Me Fanmail by Try_Two_Mothman

[Content] by Teobot

A Hero with the Mask of a Villain by SomethingOrElse

You either die a Villain or see yourself become a Hero by Fantasy_Freak2

[omgthatdress]

Apparently, Molly is low-key a major gay icon, and honestly, I get it. After all, Molly did *really* like her pretty teacher, Miss Campbell. If you think about it, it makes sense that lot of future lesbians would absolutely love Molly. Most dolls in the 90s were hyper-feminine princess dolls, and Molly was... not. I’d imagine the market for girls who want to play with dolls that aren’t pretty pink princesses is pretty large and the supply is pretty small. Just like there’s plenty of boys out there who want to play with something other than GI Joes. Molly (and AG in general) fits neatly into that market, which I’m sure is why she was so successful.

Last year, with its re-launch of the classic dolls, AG put a post on it’s instagram, “To all the Molly girls in the world, we see you and celebrate you,” which a lot of folks on Twitter took to see as confirmation that Molly was gay. When asked if they just outed Molly, AG gave a very non-committal reply. AG has always had a distinctly feminist slant, but it’s only ever toed the line of actually being LGBT inclusive. So far the only actual inclusion we’ve seen from them is a Girl of the Year with a pair of gay aunts. Even that tiny whiff of queerness was enough to set off a frothing horde of angry conservative moms screaming for a boycott. Since Mattell is only motivated by profit, I doubt we’ll get more representation any time soon, but we can dream.

Anyway, World War II was pretty gay to begin with.

A lot of historians point to WW2 as the starting point of the modern gay rights movement because before it, you had very many people living on isolated farms and never going very far from home in their lifetimes. With mass recruitment of men into the military, gay servicemen were able to find other men like themselves and build a community. It was much the same way for women who went to work in factories, joined the WAC or WAVES, and joined women’s baseball leagues. That’s right, the league of their own was gay as FUCK.

As far as Molly’s fashion goes, I love her lack of pink. I’m glad there’s a doll out there that isn’t hyper-gendered, and I wish there were more dolls like her out there.

With sweaters coming into fashion in the 1920s and 30s, the sweaters of the 40s started to see more complex and colorful knits coming into style.

Much of the fashion of this era was dominated by frugality. Europe’s couture houses were shut down, and fabric was rationed. Hems were shortened and baggy cuts and useless frills were done away with. Britain introduced the “Utility Scheme” which hired designers to make chic ensembles using as few resources as possible. Because of this, separates and outfits that could be made with scraps of fabric were very popular, and at-home knitting and sewing continued to be highly popular.

“After the United States entered World War II in 1941, companies began to experiment with various materials in anticipation of rationing and shortages. This example is a prototype from Nina-Fay Foundations, which uses plastic for closures and stays instead of the usual metal. Although metal was not ultimately rationed, the company was experimenting with alternatives to metal zippers and hooks in the event that it was needed for the war effort.”

(The Met Museum)

Women were taking men’s jobs and taking on masculine roles

But they were still expected to maintain a certain level of femininity, “To give our boys something to fight for.”

Because of all of this, the gender politics of the 1940s are really complicated and interesting.

[r1z3n]

First, we must establish some things:

Because this is comic worlds therefore we have to at least establish canon and not canon, and much like comic artists and writers of the everyday past and present we gonna cherry pick what we like, and leave everything else behind. So Canon Divergent warnings apply.

READ MORE BELOW: (trying to be considerate to people's dashboards cause this got away on me lol)

There is the Justice League which members are Currently:

Superman - Clark Kent

Batman - Bruce Wayne

Aquaman - Arthur Curry

The Flash - Barry Allen or Wally West (You need to ask for the Flash you need, the Forensic [Barry] or the engineer [Wally])

Wonder Woman - Diana (Toria [Donna] will Alternate with WW but turned down a permeant position)

Captain Marvel - Billy Batson

Green Lantern - Hal Jordan (Again much like The Flash depends on who is need though)

the Martian Manhunter- J'onn J'onzz/ John Jones

Green Arrow - Oliver Queen

Cyborg - Victor Stone

Nightwing - Dick Grayson

--- This is where we really get into cherry picking ---

Then I think of loose canon of the Teen Titans and Young Justice meshing, making it more of what I've taken to calling

the First Titans:

Nightwing/Robin I - Dick Grayson

Flash/Kid Flash I - Wally West

Aqualad I -Kaldur'ahm (Retired)

Toria/Wonder Girl I - Donna Troy

Arsenal/Speedy I - Roy Harper

Starfire - Koriand’r

Miss Martian - M'gann M'orzz / Megan Morse

Superboy I - Conner Kent

It is important that we establish that in my world there was a divide for operations and code of conduct and charter writing which is the foundation for many non-for-profits which both operate as.

This did not get fixed or amended until well after Jason's death, meaning you know what happened if you ever survived a merger or simply existed in a space that restructured you know not everyone has actually read the updated documents.

Young Just Us is still a thing:

Red Robin/Robin III - Tim Drake

Wonder Girl II - Cassandra Sansmark

Superboy I - Conner Kent

Kid Flash II - Bart Allen

Arrowette - Cissie King-Jones (Retired)

Secret - Greta Heyes (Retired)

Empress - Anita Fite

The Outlaws: [as of right now the Outlaws are outside the oversight of JL and therefore outside being able to readily use JL or FT resources like medical easily without a lot of flexibility that they can do but why would they]

Red Hood - Jason Todd

Starfire - Koriand’r

Arsenal - Roy Harper

Artemis - Artemis of Bana-Mighdall

Bizarro

So those are the established teams, I am running with right now. There are likely auxiliary teams in the future I will make when the story suits. (hats off for how much canon I have to choose from)

On that note Batfamily:

Important Ages to Note:

Alfred Pennyworth (-Wayne) - Pretty sure has beef with Ra about giving immortals a bad name, and I will not be taking critique on this.

Bruce Wayne - 26 (when he became Batman),

Dick Grayson - 10 (Robin I), 18 (Nightwing)

Cassandra Cain - 8 (when she ran away from her father), 17 (Batgirl II)

Jason Todd - 12 (Robin II), 15 (when he died), 18 (Red Hood)

Stephanie Brown - 15 (when she became Spoiler), 17 (when she was Robin IV), 18 (Batgirl III)

Tim Drake - 13 (Robin III), 17 (Red Robin)

Duke Thomas - 17 (Signal)

Damian Wayne - 11 (Robin V) Current Ages:

Bruce Wayne - 42

Dick Grayson - 26

Cassandra Cain - 21

Jason Todd - 21

Stephanie Brown - 20

Tim Drake - 19

Duke Thomas - 18

Damian Wayne - 13

----

Also because I worked hard on it: BEHOLD THE BAT SUCCESSION

Dick Grayson, Robin I, Nightwing I, Batman II (Defunct)

Barbara Gordon, Batgirl I, Oracle

Cassandra Cain, Batgirl II, The Orphan, Batman III.

Jason Todd, Robin II, Red Hood, Batman IV.

Tim Drake, Robin III, Red Robin, Nightwing II.

Duke Thomas, Signal I, Red Robin II, Batman V

Stephanie Brown, Robin IV, Spoiler, Batgirl III

Damian Wayne, Robin V, Nightwing III, Batman IV.

----

Also it is important that I make this clear:

Bruce is not winning any dad of the year awards in my sandbox. He has his good moments, but he also has his bad. He is imperfect that in different time and perspectives is either refusing to change or has decided to be be better. So there will be what many call 'bad dad bruce', but there will also be 'good dad bruce' cause the batfurry is complex like that. I like playing with characters like that. So you are forewarned.

-

Tags to Watch if you want more of this:

#No one but a Robin gets to decide Robin

#riz's bat family canon

[batpham-discord-highlights]

Pride Celebrations Part Two!!!🎉🌈💖

Welcome to part two: the electric boogaloo! This time we bring you prompts! We have two rounds of prompts lined up, along with this wonderful bingo sheet. Big thanks to all of our wonderful community members who pitched in to help with these prompts!!!

DP and Dc characters first meet at pride where Batman was giving out hugs.

First hero ever phantom is known to go to pride events, and that so happens to be where he meets Batman for the first time.

Dani isn’t really a girl, but they aren’t really a boy. They just, are.

Bart forgets to tell the rest of young justice that he is gay, which may have become a problem when he was caught kissing Phantom on their date

Twitter is convinced Batman is dating Clark Kent, and Bruce Wayne is dating Superman.

Ace(possibly aro) Damian trying his damndest to date and it never going well cause he doesn't know wtf is up with his own head. Him either entering a qpr with someone/s or finding someone else who is ace.

Dani ends up in Bludhaven during June. Dick spots a small, lonely girl staring around in wonder. Things happen, particularly Dad!Dick activates.

Dan and Jason meeting at an Ace support group

Danny meets Battinson at pride, but both as heroes.

Bruce's kids finding him, in a bad disguise, at Pride with a new partner they've never met.

Lawyer!Jazz meets Selina while working for a non-profit firm, and they hit it off.

Wes and Bernard meet at a conspiracy convention.

Halfa Jason au where his ghost form manifests surprisingly feminine.

Dani meets a hot girl at the skatepark. 

It’s Amity’s first pride parade! It goes surprisingly well, but the justice league is called.

Amity's first Pride since the portal, and the ghosts all want to attend

The batkids only learn that Alfred is actually trans when Danny joins the household and Alfred's like “me too.”

Julia Pennyworth brings home her new girlfriend, Jazz Fenton.

Poindexter attends Pride and is finally able to feel accepted.

Katherine Kane and Sam Manson first met at a gala when it was interrupted by a rogue attack and they were the only two that did anything about it.

Tucker is the only one that can solve the Riddler’s questions. His reward is a dinner date.

Tucker goes to Gotham with one mission: get the gay Robin’s autograph. This proves harder than originally thought.

While working with Leslie Thompkins, Jazz meets Harper Row—part time doctor's assistant and part time vigilant.

Dash ends up going to Gotham U. Finally away from his dad's expectations, he lets himself explore the part of himself he had to keep buried. Dick runs into him at a gay bar and decides this obviously out of his depth guy needs support. Eventual Core Strength but only after Dick tries to help set Dash up with a date and realizes he's jealous.

A series of shenanigans where the batfam thinks that Jason is lying about having a boyfriend. Danny is a cryptid who keeps getting pulled away by either ghost king duties or general shenanigans.

[bigmouthlass]

A few thoughts on the Potterverse, tentpole franchises, art, and business. Disclaimer-- I'm not an industry insider, my thoughts are that of an interested consumer.

So we're in a weird place.

The Potterverse's creator is a howling and unbalanced bigot, people who read the series as kids are re-reading them as adults and figuring out the books weren't very good as books, and in a fair world Harry Potter would be starting it's long slide into irrelevance.

That's not happening, and it won't for a while. Show business corporate giant Warner Brothers holds the media rights, and the state of their bottom line is such they need the Potterverse to turn a profit.

A big one.

Like, Star Wars/MCU big.

So Warner Brothers will not allow the IP to slip out of the public consciousness, and the fan brain being what it is there will always be an audience. But that audience isn't enough to turn the kind of bucks Warner Brothers wants/needs.

My hypothesis -- and that's all it is, I'm hardly any kind of expert on anything -- is that Warner Brothers is in trouble.

Warner Brothers are treating the Potterverse as a quarter-and-quote "tentpole franchise," the kind of property that can support a variety of media to appeal to a broad, general, and self-perpetuating audience. Think the NFL, or Premier League Football in the UK, or FIFA internationally.

That plan, however, has a very simple and obvious flaw.

Harry Potter isn't strong enough to be a tentpole.

I'm not talking about the quality of the writing. A good adaptation is capable of rising above the limits of the source material. Jaws the novel sucks. I know. I tried reading it.

And it doesn't have anything to do with the popularity of the material. People will be going to Potter moves and buying Potter merch for years to come, regardless of how harmful Rowling gets with her bigoted idiocy. Doubt me? The Cosby Show reruns are back on the TV.

The big tentpole franchises -- Star Wars, Star Trek, the MCU, the DCEU -- are drawing on decades of established history, universally recognized characters, and large and loyal fanbases who were ride or die long before film got in on the act. The source material for those IPs, also, include material created by generational talent working at the top of their games-- Bob Kane, Jack Kirby, Stan Lee, Gene Roddenberry, George Lucas, etc.

Harry Potter? Sorcerer's Stone was published in 1997. It's a singular work, by a singular writer.

Another crucial difference is the decades of history and backstory tied up in those tentpoles I listed means that their worldbuilding has been seen to by people who specialize in that sort of detail. Somebody sat down and thought about how hyperdrives and warp drives work, that Superman thrives on Earth because Sol is a yellow star, that Courscant's co-ordinates are 0-0-0, that humanity broke the light barrier in a hotrodded nuke, that the loss of his parents turned Batman into a driven man who still has a soft touch with kids-- the worldbuilding allows for further stories to be told that don't contradict the history already established or the characters people already know and recognize.

The Potterverse? It doesn't work.

Like on a functional level. JK Rowling has a nice turn of phrase and the sincere love she has for her characters shines through the pages. However, at no point did anyone take her aside and go over practical aspects of her universe. Like how is it the choices of a magic artifact made when children are eleven years old sets the social destiny of every citizen of the British Wizarding World for life, why does the Wizarding World consider getting sorted into this House or that an achievement or a failure, why do the adults allow the interHouse competitions to turn into proxy class wars (and this is treated as normal and good), why do parents with other options (like Hermoine's parents, blessed with a daughter that was already showing off-the-charts intelligence) send their children to a school with a fucking body count, why are there only other two Wizarding schools in the entirety of Europe (are boys born in western Europe just SOL because Beauxbatons is girls only?)

. . . then we zoom out into the greater world and this -- excuse me -- this dumbass provincialist hack honestly thinks the entirety of North America -- population 579 million, land area 9.5 million square miles, 24 separate countries, hundreds of distinct cultures, plus the histories of the First Nations and the legacy of Colonialism, plus the distinct Black cultures that grew out of the end of slavery, plus the wave of immigrants that came to the US and Canada at the turn of the last century -- can be adequately served by one school. That's an idea so ridiculous it does bad things to my blood pressure.

And that's just North America. Smarter people than me have pointed out the fundamental problems with how Rowling disbursed her institutions. Why did Warner Brothers not send a few editors Rowling's way and explain some of these home truths? They're stuck with a universe it's difficult to tell stories in, because the worldbuilding is cracked at the foundation. It's kind of a shame, because the history of Wizarding in the United States would make a great jumping-off point for spinoffs.

Warner Brothers have bet on a losing horse. Rowling is not a strong enough creative talent to maintain a franchise of the size and complexity of the Potterverse -- witness the lack of equivalent success from the Fantastic Beasts series -- and the Potterverse itself isn't robust enough to support a media empire the way something like Star Wars has. They're in trouble, and like all corporate interests who neither understand nor care about the creative arts beyond their ability to move merch and sell movie tickets, they're going to keep throwing good money after bad until something forces them to stop. I read a rumor that Warner Brothers is considering buying out Rowling's rights to the Harry Potter property, but seeing as how her cultural clout will be gone the moment she lets Potter go, that is never going to happen.

Keep your airsick bags handy, oh my neighbors and friendos. We're stuck with Harry Potter, and we're going to be for a while yet.

[freelanceexorcist]

FFVII Rebirth spoilers under the cut.

OK, so I was off the mark in a good bit of my speculation about Ore and Watashi Sephiroth. Way, way off the mark for some of it.

And from now on, I’ll identify the two as Glenniroth for who he was impersonating most of the time and Jenovaroth for who he has latched onto and is probably in a scenario where one doesn’t know where he ends and she begins.

I’m sticking with my feeling that Glenniroth is Chaotic Neutral, just currently on the darker end of the moral spectrum. I thought I would be bummed if this turned out to be the case, but it’s the opposite. I love this version of him. Like, a lot. He’s so deliciously wicked I just can’t help myself. The verbal evisceration of Rufus? The sarcastic clapping at the end? Using Terms of Endangerment on Cloud? Making him bring it in just to fuck with his head? Sassy, manipulative and rage-fueled Sephiroth is the Sephiroth I never knew I wanted so badly.

Jenovaroth? He’s cooked. Blotto. Pants-on-head fried. His eggs are well and truly scrambled. Not even playing the same sport as his pre-Nibelheim self, let alone being in the same league. And there’s no coming back from even a little of that. However…

He does cartoonishly over-the-top horrible and evil things, yes. But is he truly evil in the purest sense? See, that’s not a word I like to use lightly and I reserve it for the types of characters who do heinous things because it gratifies them or because of greed. There’s a difference between an antagonist killing a shit ton of people with names and dialogue in service of a cause they think is worth it and someone doing it because they get off on it or because they profit from it. And then, of course, there’s the Chaotic Evil alignment. If Jenova is a member of the Gi tribe like she’s implied to be to me, that complicates the issue. More on this later.

Before I continue, I should explain how I interpret Chaotic Neutral in fiction outside D&D.

A Chaotic Neutral character’s motivation is freedom, but I think it’s also survival. They are unfettered. They don’t give a fuck. They align with anyone who can help them get the job done and help them stay alive, and don’t concern themselves with these people’s moral standing. They are morally dubious themselves. They may align themselves with either the good guys or the bad guys just so see what it feels like. The lighter ones may operate by a personal code of conduct or honor, but the ones on the darker end of the spectrum-which is where I think Glenniroth currently is-tend not to.

Torching Nibelheim was a horrible thing to do and something he can’t take back. So was killing everyone else’s pretend girlfriend in his universe, wherever that may be. But the point of divergence for him appears to be that he either didn’t cleave to Jenova, or at some point broke away from her.

See, I think it’s the former, because a common trait of Chaotic Neutral characters is that they can be solitary. They don’t need anyone else. They may have friends and people that they like, but they prefer to go their own way on their own terms.

With Glenniroth, we don’t know how his version of Nibelheim went down, so it could be that he was thinking of all the people who betrayed and abandoned him, disabused himself of the notion that Jenova would never do the same, and said “you know what? Fuck you, too” when he was halfway up the mountain. And off he went to do whatever he wanted.

Along the way, perhaps he also abandoned the notion that he was Cetra. After all, when was the last time he heard the planet speak? The scientists must have been mistaken about what they found in the rock layer. So much to his dismay, he realizes that while he is different from everyone else, he is human.

This doesn’t make him feel any better, because he hates most other humans now. To him, they’re his abusers and his manipulators. They’re the ones who kept him on a leash, used him, tortured him as a child, treated him like a piece of meat or made him an object of mindless hero worship and unachievable expectations. He can count on one hand all of the people in his life that he thought he could rely on, and all of them either died or turned their backs on him. The world’s small towns are safe from him for now, though, because he’d die happy if he never had to interact with anyone again.

His act in Nibelheim didn’t burn away his sadness, loneliness, compassion, kindness or loyalty. Those things aren’t gone forever, they’re just in a cellar with no stairs in the bottom of a locked file cabinet in a disused lavatory with a sign on the door saying “beware of leopard.” They’re shoved so far down inside him, James Cameron would have to get into one of his submersibles and hit bottom in order to find them again. Now he’s a 6’6” mountain of disdain and spite, and it shows in all of the interactions we see.

But along the way, while enjoying the blissful solitude that comes from extreme misanthropy and not giving a fuck, he finds out that the planet is dying. He wouldn’t have known this before, because why would Shinra ever tell him that? Why would they even care as long as it was all black in the ledger? Those survival instincts kick in, and his mission is now to save the planet. Not because of any newfound caring or respect for humans, but because if it dies, he has to wander a barren husk as a displaced ghost until the heat death of the universe. He says so himself in the Edge of Creation.

Much to what is most certainly his dismay, he realizes he needs humans. Or more to the point, he needs to use humans for his plan to save the planet to work. He needs to eliminate Shinra, and decides that another war between Wutai and Shinra is what will do it. And it will be so huge and devastating that the people will come together out from under Shinra’s thumb and heal the world. And this time, the shoe is on the other foot, because Sephiroth’s about to become the demon of Midgar. Shinra’s going down. Surely Lord Godo and any surviving Wutai soldiers would be willing to bury the hatchet long enough to see that happen so they can rebuild.

Now, this isn’t him having an I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing moment, oh no. Thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of people will die, but eh. Not his problem. That’s food for the Lifestream that will sustain the planet a little while longer. That’s all that matters. All he needs to do is rattle some sabers, plant a few false flags and voila, humans will be chomping at the bit to do what they do best: kill, hurt and betray each other. Out of that could come the unity needed to reject mako, find a more sustainable source of energy and leave the planet alone so she can recover.

This isn’t to say that this version of Sephiroth is permanently on the darker edge of morality. The thing about Chaotic Neutral characters, is that their moral fluidity can sometimes solidify given certain circumstances. Don’t get me wrong, the man he was before Nibelheim is gone. I think the best we’re going to see from him is some kind of anti-hero, and I’m not talking about the cool 90s kind. We’re talking more Byronic Hero from this guy or one of the darker dishes on the Anti-Hero menu. That’s sometimes what happens to these types of characters in fiction, and it can make them even more interesting, not less, because there’s a chance for real character development. He’ll still be a dick, of course, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Assuming that’s what’s happening in Glenniroth’s case, of course. They could throw us yet another curveball and have him in cahoots with Jenovaroth for all we know. That doesn’t seem likely, though, as their goals don’t align.

I’ll end this now, because I’ve rambled long enough. Thank you for reading if you chose to do so. Maybe I’ll post the next part about Jenovaroth, maybe I won’t. It all depends on how I feel when I get home after that fuckwit from Field Services has had another go at me on email and Teams messages. I went to a good school, but that school wasn’t Hogwarts, Karen.

[mxrp-official-steve]

Hi I am loathe to send anything complainty bc I'm sure you get it literally all the time. And I understand hex's situation is less than ideal rn so I'm definitely not saying like 'hey F y'all go faster'. I just want to express frustration in that we were told there's be frequency in updates on MXRP and its state. But there's been... Like... One. One update in 5 months (MAYBE 2) and they've both been about the logs or the original update we got 5 months ago.

Again I'm not demanding a rush, I understand the situation at present, but it's been really frustrating to just haaaave nothing. No idea where the mxrp code rests at current, no idea at all what's happening with it ever. Dreambubble isn't an option personally for my own reasons which is fine, but the lack of any communication for the past few months feels rough. Anyone who even asks what's up is just pointed at the FAQ which gives no more than it did 5 months ago.

I really am just hoping you can acknowledge this in some way, shape, or form, because it's not just me this comes from. It's a voice of many, I think I just am the first to crack and want to say something as directly as an anon message can be. Please again understand, I'm not demanding a rush or saying anything like that. Just frustrated with the sub-zero updates that we were promised.

Oh I have no doubt that this is the voice of many- the issue is I don't really have like... an update to give. And that's kind of kept my mouth shut these last few months.

The parp rebuild is a one-person show right now, just Hex making it in their increasingly sparse free time. The reason why things haven't been moving is because Hex has a really, really bad financial situation right now, and i refuse to pressure them to work on the site when it's leagues more important that they find stable work so they can feed themselves and have a roof over their head (i've even given them 100% of the patreon money a few times at this point, and likely will in the future).

I teased this in the server already, but this is part of why we're opening an MxRP merch store, and why we're probably gonna open it before the site is back up. It's also why, and you can nudge Hex, TT, and Kon about this if you dont believe me, I will receive not one cent of the profits until MxRP is back up and running, and my cut will be going to Hex. The more stable they are, the faster parp comes back up. Simple as.

As it stands, dev on newerparp has halted. I completely understand if this makes you unsubscribe from the patreon- I probably would too at this point. But I'm not going to pressure someone who's doing this basically for free (the most we ever made off the patreon, post-split, was like 70$ each) to prioritize MxRP over their own personal health and safety.

There's probably like, an alternate timeline where AWS wasn't nightmarishly expensive to host this rickety bridge on where she's still up on there, but "hey can we get this patreon to 700-ish bucks a month minimum like right now guys so I can put her back up on AWS in the meantime" is a genuinely insane thing for me to ask. That's ridiculous. But as it stands, there is no update.

I'm real sorry for the silence, y'all. You're right to be upset with me, I just didn't want the monthy news to be "No news, still down" like, several times in a row.

[darkwingphoenix]

New @loominggaia Memes, Hot and Fresh!

Get 'em while they HOT!

Skylie tryna make Civ VI playable for her nieces and nephews before any of her siblings die (Those siblings are concerned)

A thing Skylie did once in 7002 for her birthday (It'd be Skylie Teyvat/Unknown God, 1,000, Purple, 6'1", Taurus (My Zodiac), Yes (Saraia), Evangeline, a ton of stuff at the time, banana pudding, tired (Sleepy) and Size 9 shoes)

Trip sometimes

Paimon at times

Skylie coming to Uekoro/Evangeline and her nieces/nephews

Saraia when Cerulea and Rodrig get Murked by Skylie, as they're bleeding out and Skylie's having an emotional crisis

Skylie when Cyana accuses her of being the Unknown God

Saraia when Cobalt tells her he's slowly abolishing slavery

Skylie when Cyangeline's kids try to get her to confess about her cult

Amber as a toddler (She bit Skylie)

Amber when Marghan tries hitting on her

Divines when killed

Cobalt trying to find out how to kill Cerulea and Rodrig with no fault of his own

Skylie and Saraia at a Zareenite fast food joint

Most Evangeline Women vs Skylie

Many words to describe Justinia's rack

Maia as an Adult (Again)

Sai seducing Cobalt (She used Justinia's tips for help)

Skylie vs Alaine (Skylie lost the fight but won the war, as Alaine is now naked)

Many words for Sex around Looming Gaia (And Saraia screaming for no reason)

Cobalt so pissed off at Teal burning Clarity with a cast iron pot he kills her with the same pan out of rage (Clarity is his baby even if she isn't the same species)(Danus is traumatized at the end)

Justinia seducing Cobalt

Amber and Citrine singing a song in Volskapek (Citrine knows the actual lyrics, she's just being a lil shit)

(Both canon and not canon, technically) The FGG after getting paid for escorting Cyangeline to Uekoro

Average Ascendii Warship out at Sea

Saraia being attacked by Evangeline archers (She's been shot at so much she knows the attack patterns by now)(This is actually a League of Legends meme, not Genshin!)

Citrine after all of her clean white clothes came out permanently pink via Kitsu doing transmutation on them as practice

Saraia after meeting Cerno again

Skylie and Citrine, aged 8, dancing at Cyangeline's wedding!(Yes, they only married once Citrine was 8, shuddup)

Several slaves after being tasked with watching Clarity as she takes a nap (She's sleeping with her face in the water, but she's developed her gills so she's fine)

Skylie after meeting up with Saraia in Evangeline Palace (She was wiped out by a building dropped by a light-based siege weapon Saraia was testing out, having Skylie stand under it so she can respawn to break out of the palace while Saraia broke in)

Angeline explaining her bisexuality (Cyana's this motherfucker)

Cyangeline and their kids once Cobalt snaps at their parents after killing Teal over making Clarity burn her hands on a cast iron skillet (They're packing up right before hopping off the wall onto King, who's hidden by the wall)

Qara when fighting Saraia and Skylie in a warehouse in Driza (Her greed indirectly killed her, as she allowed the owner of the warehouse to let his warehouse be super dangerous without inspections and building codes to streamline profits)

Divines when dead, basically (They have unlimited lives)

Tyria, Metzwell, Amber, and Citrine tryna get extra credit at 10 pm (They're already passing, they just want extra credit)

Darshaan, Saraia, Trip and Skylie when they get attacked by Kelvingyard road patrol (Skylie's doing the singing)

Saraia and Skylie announcing their love officially at a Royal Gala in 6069

Skylie pulling up to the Athenaeum to teach some kiddos and hand out Visions

Skylie and Darshaan planning to kill Marghan (Saraia was busy at a paleontological symposium)

Kitsu and Amber scaring some kids in Uekoro (Amber illusioned herself as a skorpius)

Skylie and Cyangeline Kids fleeing from Evangeline Palace before Cerulea pulls up

Skylie defeating Evangeline ogre royal guards via her uber autism

Angeline flirting with Cyana

Maia, Skylie, Darshaan, and Saraia singing (Darshaan is twerking during his lines)(He's third)

Cobalt vs Rodrig in terms of how they view women

Lumine and Maia bonding as queer Evangeline women

Skylie (With toddler Citrine in a box), Saraia, and Darshaan with a random Matuzan corn farmer (Saraia's gonna corn farm DAT AZZ)

The Evangeline royal cousins (The new set with Cerulea's grandkids) on Halloween/its Evangeline equivalent

Maia and Lumine as preteens when they first met Skylie

Saraia to Cerulea

Saraia and Trip on their way to Evangeline Capital (They forgot Darshaan)

The Evangeline royal cousins, Justinia, Skylie, Trip, Thetos (Amber's friend when she met him on a trip to Skylie's pad in Drifter's Hollow) and Danus with kazoos in Evangeline Palace (Paimon started it)

Trip (Daughter of Mr. Ocean and thus technically a royal), Darshaan, Skylie, and Saraia with Iriana and Karenza for the first Royal Gala held in Ascendance (Darshaan is doing drag because he feels like it)

Darshaan and Trip during the Ascendii invasion of Zareen

Every Ascendance military base on the weekends (All of the bullets are blanks)

Lumine, Paimon (Whose voice can get HELLA DEEP when she wants) and Maia doing karaoke)

Maia being an icon

Amber making an illusion of herself

Shouko (My IcySpicy fankid) using both pyro and floemancy (She has a red elf's immunity to burns) with Amber providing illusion clones

Ascendii Soldiers on the road patrol grind (Their helmets look like this)(Ignore the last 5 seconds)

Trip's last 3 braincells

Perfect meme for Justinia

Lumine being given a potion to cure her maleness from Amber (Who already knows curative magic, she just picked up alchemy lmao)

Monsters discussing love

Lumine, Paimon, Kitsu, Citrine, Maia, and Alani hunting down Aether (Lumine's twin brother) for an absurdly long distance

The entire history of the world by Saraia

Skylie vibing through Uekoro Village with Amber/Maui, Citrine, Alani, Kitsu, Maia, Lumine, Paimon, Tyger, Clementino, Rustafi, Angeline, Ellen Joan, Clarity, Justinia, Trip and the Uekoran people being confused af

Skylie doing this song with the Drifter's Hollow villagers, Darshaan and Saraia

Angeline spilling Amber's crush on someone to said crush while Skylie cackles

Trip as a pimp named Slickback

Skylie and Cyana having a normal sisterly bonding sesh

Saraia thinking about the nearly 2,000 years of her life and wishing she could've had a normal life (She's gotten over it, but she still wishes her life didn't happen the way it had)(She's only told Skylie how much she feels about this)

Ascendii Royal Guards Off Duty

More next time! BAI BEETCH

[emilou-keen-gear]

Another Halloween Story

Writing Prompt: A child actress turned cult leader feels her power slipping and she needs to gain control over her following again.

Title: Don’t Walk Behind a Strange Cult

Characters: Mark Beaks and others that aren’t as important

Word Count: Approx. 3200

            It was on a Monday when the leaders of the Children of the Underneath League Training group approached Mark Beaks. Normally Mark Beaks would never remember what day of the week it was since it wasn’t like he actually worked—ew—and it was only because he went to pick up a package from the post office—an important package that had some imported shirts for him—that he found out it was closed due to Columbus Day—What the duck? Is that really a holiday?—so it was closed that Monday.

            So it was a Monday, and Mark Beaks decided to go in to the office at Waddle Inc just because he was super miserable and if he was paying his employees money, then they were going to be as miserable as he was.

            “Sir, there is a…group of people here to see you,” his secretary—he thought her name was Janice?—said over the phone system. “They will not tell me why and they don’t have an appointment, but they insist upon seeing you.”

            “I don’t want to see them,” Beaks whined, spinning in his chair. “I want to see Richard from HR. Richard’s a good guy. Is Richard there?”

            “There is no Richard in HR,” Janice said.

            “What’s his name? He’s a big guy. A polar bear or something. Has pictures of all his…uh…family around his desk. Has an accent,” Beaks described.

            “You mean Julio?” Janice asked.

            “Yeah, that’s the guy. I call him Richard,” Beaks said. “He loves it. Is he at his desk? Send him over to me.”

            “Julio went home sick,” Janice said. “In fact, a lot of people are feeling sick. I think there’s some sort of flu going on.”

            “Urg,” Beaks growled in frustration. “So, everyone’s going home?”

            “Most of everyone, sir,” Janice said.

            “Fine. Send in the strangers,” Beaks relented.

            “Okay, sir,” Janice said.

            “Thanks Janice,” Beaks said.

            “It’s Susan,” Susan said.

            Beaks sighed. Names were hard, okay. How was he expected to remember so many people’s names? It’s not like they’re important information or else he would be posting everyone’s names on Twitter. And their phone numbers. And addresses. A lot of people got very angry. That’ll show him for being helpful.

            The door to his office opened up and three men—or women, he couldn’t tell at that moment—walked inside. They wore long, dark grey robes that covered them from head to toe. Other than their noses and mouths, he couldn’t see any distinguishing features—thus why he couldn’t tell their genders. He wasn’t being insensitive. For once.

            “How can I help you gentle….people?” Beaks asked, slumping over his desk. If he had hope that these strangers could cheer him up, those hopes fell faster than Waddle stocks after the one incident with Gizmoduck. Party people usually didn’t wear long, woolen robes as if they were monks. Perhaps they were monks.

             Oh, feathers. Were they a non-profit organization asking for money? That was even worse than party-poopers.

            “We are the leaders to an organization called Children of the Underneath League Training, and are seeking your help for—“

            “I’m gonna cut you off there, pal,” Beaks said, opening up one of his gaming apps and started playing. “Don’t tell anyone, but Waddle is going bankrupt. We can’t afford to pay our employees let alone donate to your little ‘cause’.”

            “What!?”

            That’s when Mark Beaks realized that the phone speaker system was still on.

            “It’s okay, Janice. That was a lie to quickly get rid of these jokers,” Beaks said into the speaker. “No offense, okay guys.”

            The three people in the robes looked confused.

            Over the speaker came a four-letter word, then a three-letter one, a couple more four-letter, a seven letter and then a few that Beaks wasn’t sure how to spell.

            “I think you have the ‘flu’, Janice,” Beaks said. “Take the day off.”

            “Again, it’s still Susan.”

            “I sign your paycheck,” Beaks finished before making sure the speaker was off this time. He looked up at the robed figures. “You’re still here. Go away. I’m not giving you any money.”

            “Uh…we’re not here to ask for a donation,” the one in front said, his voice deep and chilling. “We’d actually like to hire you.”

            “Hire? I’m totally a billionaire—or at least I was but that’s not the point—so I doubt your pitiful organization could afford me,” Mark Beaks said, turning his chair around. Then something very heavy landed on his desk. Curiosity got the better of him. He glanced around his chair. There was a brick of gold now sitting on his desk.

            “This is just your sign-on bonus,” the man in the robe said, looking smug. “We can talk salary later.”

            “Uh…oh…what…is it that you want me to do?” Beaks said, trying not to stare—or for that matter, drool—at the brick of gold.

            “We want you to promote our ‘organization’,” the main robe-wearer said. He used the air quotes very strangely. Something about it felt sinister.

            “Promote?” Beaks tried to pick up the gold. His wimpy, little phone-pressing muscles weren’t capable.

            “On the social media.”

            Beaks perked up. “Well, you came to the right bird. What you aiming for? Facebook? Twitter? Instagram? Snapchat? Tumblr? Pinterest? Twitch?—“

            “Uh, are all of these social media?” It was said with the tone of someone over forty who had no idea what the Internet was capable of.

            “I’m not done yet,” Beaks said. “WhatsApp? Linkedln? Youtube? TikTok? Reddit? Quora? Or are you looking for something less domestic because I’m also familiar with a few apps from other countries.”

            The three robed strangers looked startled then the leader laughed. “It seems we came to the right person. We’d like to be on as many of these social medias as we can.”

            “Good choice,” Beaks said, brushing any of his instincts that told him he was bad news. Especially that guy’s laugh. Chilling. But, hey, he wasn’t one to judge. “Looking for donations? Helping out…children, I guess?”

            “Actually, we’re more looking for recruits,” the robed man said. “Our numbers have…dwindled over the centuries, and we need to bring in some new blood. We have a special guest coming for the convergence and we don’t want to disappoint him.”

            “Alright, a convention,” Beaks said.

            “No, the conver—“ one of the other robed figures started to correct but their companion stopped them in mid-sentence.

            “Let’s get you set up. First I’ll need your email—you dudes have email, right?—and we’re going to get you a new phone, because we’re going to need all the memory for all those apps,” Beaks said. “This is going to turn out great.”

            At first, it did not. It turned out that despite the word “children” being in their name, the Children of the Underneath League Training was only a bunch of old people in robes who went on nature hikes, collected dried plants, and read ancient books. At least they had some cool tattoos and some interesting gothic art. But that wasn’t going to be enough to draw the in-crowd.

            It took Beaks a few weeks to get the Children to understand what exactly cool was. And although the members all wore those weird robes, Beaks managed to work around that. It just took a few pictures with some local celebrities, persuading the Children to perform a few Internet challenges and a lot of work on his part, and soon, the Children of the Underneath was trending.

            Things went it a blur after that. Not only was Beaks in charge of organizing parties several times a week all over the country, but he had to post several times a day just to keep up with the demand from all the followers. On top of that, but the Children of the Underneath’s member numbers multiplied over a hundred times.

            “We’ve never had so many members,” the leader of the Children said with tears in his hooded eyes. “Our special Eldritch guest will be so happy when he comes to the convergence.”

            “Ah, not more old people,” Beaks muttered under his breath. There was nothing harder than trying to sell wrinkles, liver spots, and the smell of Bengay as cool. But he was Mark Beaks, and he did just that.  

            “I’ve been told that all the hotels in the city are filled to the brim by our new recruits. This convergence will be the best ever,” the leader said. “We’ll have so much of an offering that no doubt our Master will be able to stay…forever.”

            “Look, I’ve told you, that creepy, mysterious voice may work when it’s Halloween and we’re doing spooky postings, but try to keep it low-key, okay?” Beaks said. “And now that you mentioned that convention thingy, you still haven’t told me anything about it. We have a date and time, and I know it’s here in Duckburg, but you haven’t shown me the venue. Are there going to be vendors? Entertainment? Food trucks? How much are you charging for tickets? Is this for members only or are you opening it up to the public?”

            The leader looked nervous. “The convergence is for the Children only. We will not allow outsiders to witness our sacred rituals.”

            Beaks had often wondered if the Children were a religious group and he never quite figured that out. On one hand, they had sacred rituals and secret texts and old fashion quotes with words that ended with “eth” and such. But on the other, they didn’t seem all that concerned about making money.

            “Can I at least take a look at the venue?” Beaks said. “I’ve gotten a lot of messages from your new members asking where you’re going to meet for the convention. There are not many places in Duckburg that can handle that many people.”

            “I suppose we must divulge the location of the convergence and ritual,” the leader said. “It is in the woods at this latitude and longitude.” The leader gave him a neon pink sticky note.

            “The woods?” Beaks said, skeptical. “Oh, so this is like a camping thing. You’re going to bond with all your members in nature. That’s cool. That kind of thing was trending a few years back, but I think it can make a great return.” His fingers raced across the phone, typing out the series of new messages. “Your members are going to have a great time. Make sure you take a lot of pictures and send them to me so I can post them.”

            “You’re not coming?” For once, the leader sounded frantic.

            “Yeah, me and nature, we don’t mix well,” Beaks said. “So it ain’t gonna happen.”

            “But we need you.”

            “You’ll do great without me,” Beaks said with a pat on the man’s shoulder.

            “But we need you for the ritual,” the leader said. “You must come. You’re the key to the Summoning. If we must use another, the Master will not be as pleased.”

            “Oh, come on. There must be someone else who can take my place,” Beaks said, feeling irritated. Never had the Children acted so needy.

            “It must be you, for you reek of selfishness and arrogance, the seasoning that is needed to sate our master’s hunger…I mean, our guest has been looking forward to meeting you.” The man’s tone changed so quickly, he could get a job as a voice actor.

            “Then let’s schedule a dinner date,” Beaks said, feeling as if this conversation was getting stale.

            “We’ll pay you. Three times your sign-on price,” the leader said urgently.

            Beaks didn’t have to think about it. For that much gold, he could handle a bit of roughing it.

            After shaking hands, Beaks headed out of the Children of the Underneath League Training’s office while typing on his phone. He had been making so many social media posts that he was starting to get carpal tunnel syndrome in both hands and he had visited his chiropractor several times because he was always bowed over the phone. It was for this reason that he wasn’t looking where he was going and tripped over something and fell to the floor. The phone went flying and landed in a fish tank that was in the front foyer.

            “Oh, man. It’s going to be a pain to get another phone prepped with all those apps,” Beaks said, looking morosely at the phone sinking to the bottom.

            A tentacle reached out and snatched the phone, pulling it into a dark niche within the tank.

            “Huh, I didn’t know they had an octopus in this thing,” Beaks said, taking a look at the tank. Now that he mentioned it, he hadn’t taken a really good look at the office at all. He was always so busy with his phone that he never looked up.

            And then he took in the décor with unfiltered eyes, no distractions, no phones, no talking. And he gasped.

            “Oh Hell,” he whispered because that’s where he might as well be.

            Darkness and torture instruments were everywhere. Depictions of long, thick tentacles reaching out of a dark abyss were everywhere. Paintings of tentacles grabbing people and pulling them to a waiting maw full of razor-sharp teeth covered most of the walls. And the largest and center-piece was a painting of him, standing with his arms spread apart with a serene look on his face and a glowing phone in one hand. Behind him was a throat filled with teeth spiraling down to the stomach. A tentacle was beginning to wrap around his waist.

            “Oh, Hell,” he said again and fled.

***

            When Beaks finished his story, he collapsed on the bottom bunk, feeling a cold sweat make him shiver.

            “Why are we even talking to this guy?” Louie demanded. “He’s a bad guy. He tried to destroy Gizmoduck several times, and steal Scrooge’s money. Let’s kick him to the curb. He can figure out how to get out of his own problems.”             “I might concur except for the fact that if we don’t do something, thousands of innocent people might be killed,” Huey said. “This is bad. This is really bad.”

            “Really? We’re actually going to believe that there’s a monster living underneath Duckburg?” Louie asked.

            “I always knew there was something under Duckburg,” Dewey added.

            “After all we’ve seen, I’m not going to doubt anything,” Huey said. “But what kind of monster did you say it was?”

            “Uh…I donno. It was an elderly one,” Beaks said. “I know that totally doesn’t sound scary, but you should have seen the pictures.”

            “Do you mean an Eldritch?” Huey guessed.

            “Oh, yeah. I guess that’s it,” Beaks said. “Is that a really, really, really old monster?”

            “He’s not wrong,” Dewey said.

            “Try older-than-humankind old,” Huey said. “This is really, really bad.”

            “This sounds so cool,” Dewey said. “We should see if Webby wants to help us.”             “We may need more help than that,” Huey said. “This doesn’t sound like a job for three kids. It sounds like a job for Gizmoduck.”

            “Oh, I already tried him,” Beaks said with a sigh. “His mom yelled at me. In English and Spanish. I—I’ve never been more scared in my entire life.”

            Huey was rubbing his head. “How did you get yourself in this this situation?”

            “They offered me a lot of money. Who could say no?” Beaks said with a shrug.

            Louie nodded in understanding.

            “I wouldn’t have worked for them if I had known they were a cult,” Beaks said.

            “They’re the Children of the Underneath League Training,” Huey said, his voice turning agitated. “Their names acronym is literally CULT.”

            “Look, we can point fingers later. You have got to save me. They’re going to sacrifice me to bring this monster here, and I really don’t want to die,” Beaks said. “I’m sure they’ll find me. You have got to do something.”

            Huey had been typing on his computer. “Okay, I found a wiki on this group. Apparently the Eldritch demon they worship is called Gnom-Gnom, and he is powered by the sheer numbers of his worshippers. The more people that appear to his summoning, the larger and more powerful he becomes. The summoning ritual includes a sacrifice that is filled with greed and selfishness. Well, that’s you Beaks.”

            “So you’re going to hide me until this convention thing is over, right?” Beaks said, huddling on the bed.

            “Yeah, sure, but that won’t fix the problem. They’ll be able to find another sacrifice that’s just as greedy and selfish as Beaks,” Huey said.

            “I can name several just inside Duckburg,” Louie said with a smirk.

            “Probably the easiest way to solve the problem is to make sure nobody goes to the convergence,” Huey said. “We need to warn everyone. Tell them what’s going on.”

            “And that won’t do anything,” Louie said with a roll of his eyes. “Here, allow me. I know exactly how to fix this.” He dabbled with his phone for a minute before telling his brother. “Dewey, I’m sending you a link. Share it everywhere.”

            “Okay,” Dewey said. Then he smirked. “You posted a YELP review for a cult?”

            “Oh, yeah,” Louie said. “I have several accounts for YELP, most to bring up my reviews for Louie Inc, so I used one to tell the world that the Children of the Underneath League Training invited my family over for a sacred ritual where they stole every cent I had as well as my dog and cat, and they touched my child inappropriately.”

            “Wouldn’t it be better to tell the truth?” Huey asked.

            “No. The truth often gets overlooked, but a sensational lie catches people’s attention,” Louie said. “Now that Dewey shared my YELP review, I’ll share Dewey’s post on my account, and I’ll bring up all my troll accounts and share it as well.”

            “Troll accounts?” Dewey asked. “Hey, are you the one commenting on my Youtube videos and telling me I stink?”

            Louie shrugged. “Huey, I know you have Facebook. Share Dewey’s posting there. Beaks, why aren’t you doing anything. As the king of frivolous posts, you should be helping.”

            “Oh, right,” Beaks said, remembering he had his personal phone on him. When was the last time he had used it? He had been so busy promoting a cult that he hadn’t been able to post about himself in a long time. He was tempted to make a post about how he was feeling with a selfie right there, but his life was more important.

            He found Louie’s social media pages and shared the new post.

            “And now we sit back and watch,” Louie said, holding out his phone. His eyes widened. “Whoa, that was fast. I haven’t seen someone lose so many follows so quickly. I wonder how many blocks the cult is getting.”

            “This is amazing,” Huey said. “You did it, Louie. You adverted disaster. At this rate, the Children will only have enough members to summon a demon the size of a goldfish.”

            “All in a day’s work,” Louie said. Then he turned to Beaks. “Now, I hope you learned a valuable lesson.”

            “Oh, I did,” Beaks said. “From now on, I’m only going to use social media for good.” Then he took a quick selfie. “Hey, peeps. I’m back. I know ya missed me. Hashtag Mark Beaks is the best.”            

“He’ll never change,” the triplets said together.

[goingrampant]

The Boys Marketing

Similar to issues surrounding The Hunger Games as a profitable franchise, the Amazon series The Boys critiques the excesses of modern capitalism and then Amazon reproduces them in marketing The Boys merchandise. There are numerous toys, T-shirts, and costumes paying homage to the various characters as well as general series logos stamped on whatever they can sell. In some cases, the satirical nature of a framework glorifying these awful figures is retained, but some are more ambiguous. The use of the character Stormfront as a Nazi antagonist serves to clarify the satirical nature of some of these products, but there also appears to be an active effort to obscure her nature as a Nazi to make her more marketable.

When it comes to depictions of The Boys, the protagonists, the merchandise accurately captures the sentiment of rebellion against Vought as an evil capitalist organization. We can critique this at a meta level--Amazon selling "fight capitalism" merch to make money from a "fight capitalism" show subverts the point of a "fight capitalism" show--but it is, at least, consistent with the message of the show.

Things get rockier when it comes to depictions of bad guys who act as part of the evil capitalist organization.

The most overt satirical product they have, in my opinion, is the "Brave Maeve" critique of rainbow washing:

The use of the rainbow-washed Claddagh makes it clear to any queer people what's being invoked here, and it has a very sneering tone at the whole concept--true to the show's satirical nature.

The Homelander merchandise presentation is largely ambiguous in nature, marketing both to people who appreciate him as a villain and conservatives who like him as a character they can relate to: a conservative American patriot just trying to stumble his way through life.

This Homelander costume is completely neutral. Someone might buy it because they like villains and want to portray a horrible person. Or, maybe a MAGA type would buy it because they identify with the figure as a beleaguered hard-right American just trying to keep America great, like the fellow who wore this costume at the Million MAGA March (2020-11-14 demonstration by conspiracy theorists claiming Trump won the election and Biden stole it).

In this Homelander and Stormfront shirt, the use of Stormfront as an obviously evil Nazi antagonist clarifies the satirical nature of the image:

You'd be hard-pressed to find any actual American fascists who like the vibe of this shirt. It is overtly about the show's villains and reads like it should be worn by people who like villains and/or the critique of American nationalism as equivalent to Nazism. I think even actual Nazis would be turned off by how obviously evil the Nazi character looks. (TBH, they were already alienated by the casting of Jewish actress Aya Cash, in the tradition of Colonel Klink.)

On the other hand, this shirt just looks like edgy patriotic fashion favored by conservatives. Even the metallic text lacks the hammy villain tone of the "Homelander & Stormfront" shirt and just looks vaguely intimidating in-line with such fashion. It would be really easy for a hard-right Homelander fanboy to wear this shirt unironically, in full support of Homelander as a patriotic figure. It could be said that this shirt was perhaps designed with satirical intent, but this is not clear at all from its presentation. In context, it looks like Amazon wanted to market to some of its known consumer demographic: hard-right unironic Homelander fans.

Meanwhile, on the official Gen V merchandise page, the lead actors simultaneously act as satirical figures hawking merchandise like the wacky capitalist institution the show criticizes and are the lead actors hawking merchandise for the capitalist institution producing the show:

Self-aware irony only goes so far.

In the show, Dawn of the Seven (a spoof of Justice League with elements of The Avengers) is used to criticize superhero movies in our universe (e.g. they're tropey, can be sexist, have questionable themes, etc.). In Amazon's merchandise, it's used to unironically market the superhero figures as these cool characters.

Is this a critique of Homelander or marketing at all? I'd argue no. It is unironic pro-Homelander, pro-marketing, pro-consumerism, and pro-superhero-fandom theming to appeal to the lowest common denominator of fan, likely to be a conservative fan of Homelander.

The worst part of this is with the use of season two's Girls Get It Done, a critique of superhero movies (particularly Avengers: Endgame) pandering to women with an all-woman team-up that purports to be feminist but doesn't back it up with any actual feminist writing surrounding it or understanding what women want past a simplistic disingenuous argument that women are better than men. The three female superheroes of the Seven--Starlight, Queen Maeve, and Stormfront--are arbitrarily teamed up and paraded around as a faux-feminist marketing gimmick. This is a clear satirical element in the show. However, the Amazon merchandise uses it unironically as a woman-targeted gimmick for the show's female fans.

It is weird as hell that someone thought this piece of satire depicting a literal Nazi antagonist would make a good "girl power" piece marketed to women. Again, possible satirical intent is nerfed by unironic capitalistic greed.

Let's talk about Stormfront. She's a likable villain, and it's fairly reasonable to sell merchandise representing the figure as a villain. Her only T-shirts are the ones I've posted above. "Homelander & Stormfront" effectively depicts her as a villain in a critique of American fascism. However, "Girls Get It Done" is ambiguous in the manner of the Homelander shirt that seemingly panders to conservative unironic Homelander fans. Stormfront is just there, alongside two heroic figures, looking cool alongside them. You'd have to watch the show to know she's a villain.

And here's another thing: her Nazi signifiers are all obscured. Her arm bands are seen from a weird angle and somewhat blocked by Queen Maeve; her imperial eagle belt buckle is hidden in artificially generated shadow, and she's not printed in a high-enough resolution to see her swastika fabric pattern. All that's left is her skinhead-evocative Skrillex hair, which is far from overt. Skrillex isn't a Nazi, after all. Amazon essentially did the same sort of thing they did with the Billy Butcher merchandise in censoring the swear words to make them friendlier wear around in public and removed hate symbols from a character who is innately a political figure as a means of critiquing racial hatred in America. In the process, they made a Nazi more palatable without the corresponding political critique.

The one other way they marketed Stormfront merchandise was with a limited-edition collection of themed Nike sneakers, available only through sweepstakes. Several of the main heroes and villains in season two got their own sneaker color theme, including Stormfront (top right).

Here, Stormfront's Nazi crap is retained with an allusion to her belt buckle--the Nazi imperial eagle--printed on the side under the swoosh. Other characters get their own symbols in the same general area, so it's in theme with the others but also questionable given its authentic Nazi imagery in absent of a context of critiquing modern America. People are expected to just don Nazi imagery as fans of the show. The Homelander, A-Train, Black Noir, and Kimiko sneakers are decorated with blood imagery, at least signalling "edgy show", but Stormfront's are without even that limited context. (Please do not take this as endorsement of people harassing Aya Cash for playing a Nazi. It's okay to portray a Nazi as an actor on a television show, just not out of context in the real world like this.)

The grey portion at the toe resembles Stormfront's arm bands and may, like the arm bands, depict a desaturated American flag like that worn by American conservatives. In the context of the show, this is used to critique American conservatives as fascist and embracing Nazism. Removed from context, it would suffer the same problem as the Homelander shirt aping conservative fashion.

The decision to make Stormfront's sneakers dark with white laces is another interesting choice. Neo-Nazis often signal to each other by wearing black boots with contrasting white laces. It's unclear if this was intentional.

I'm honestly unsure which is worse, merchandise obscuring that she's a Nazi to make her more palatable or merchandise retaining her Nazi characterization in a context completely absent of framing her as a deplorable villain.

All these bad marketing decisions come together in a weird capitalist kerfuffle aping at being a satire of capitalism while being outrageous in itself. It unironically showcases why the kind of stuff the show parodies is bad.

[sshbpodcast]

Character Spotlight: Quark

By Ames

Do you have the lobes for business? This week, we’re putting our knowledge of the Rules of Acquisition to the test with one of our favorite Ferengi characters: Quark! He really does it all: he tends bar, he runs a profitable casino, he romances ladies who you’d think would be way out of his league, he snarks with a certain gooey chief of security, and he schemes! Boy, does he ever scheme.

The Ferengi overall are a bit of a mixed bag, what with their ultra-capitalist, extremely misogynist society, but Quark proves throughout Deep Space Nine to be a complex and well-written person, full of contradictions and character growth. So read the full contract below and listen to this week’s podcast episode (jump to 55:53) as A Star to Steer Her By takes a seat next to Morn to try to catch the ear of the bartender. Come to Quarks, Quark’s is fun, Come right now, Don’t walk: Run!

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Best moments

Make him an offer he can’t refuse Ferengi-centered episodes are typically goofball comedies and worth a laugh or five, and “The Nagus” gets us off to a quite funny start. Quark’s performance as Zek’s successor is full of funny little touches, and the allusion to The Godfather with Quark stroking a gilvo as if it were a lapcat is a good joke indeed. Quark would make a fine nagus, I say. And a decent godfather.

Who wears the clothes in this relationship? Quark may start out as a typical Ferengi, but we see glimpses of his development to becoming a better person due to hanging around all these hoomans. In “Rules of Acquisition,” he’s prepared to pay Pel ten bars of latinum to set her up in a new life, and then outthinks the Nagus when she reveals herself as a female. It’s a small step, but a big one for a Ferengi!

Being with you was the happiest time of my life Somehow, Quark is at his best when paired with reciprocating love interests. In “Profit and Loss,” (not to be confused with “Profit and Lace”), he earnestly attempts to get Natima Lang to safety when the Cardassian government is after her for being a dissident. Sure, it starts off one-sided and creepy, but Natima and Quark’s love turns out to be mutual and really sweet!

Behold the power of math! Yet again, we’re highlighting an episode in which Quark is romantically paired with a kickass female and he comes out looking swish! Not only does Quark battle D’Ghor in “The House of Quark,” but he also exposes the fraudulent bookkeeping D’Ghor had done for Grilka’s house. Quark allows Grilka, one of our favorite Klingons, to realize her agency and be her best.

If they want their money back, give it to them? People give Sisko all the credit, being the Emissary and all that, but in “Prophet Motive” we get to see Quark go into the wormhole to talk to the prophets himself! To save Zek from whatever personality rewriting the denizens of the celestial temple had done to him, Quark takes it upon himself to ensure that Rule of Acquisition #10 remains true: Greed is eternal!

The bigger the risk, the bigger the win Quark’s lobes might only be rivaled by his spine, as he demonstrates an absurd amount of bravery when he disarms the bomb that had Kool-Aid Manned into the ship in “Starship Down.” The thrill of gambling with their lives is perfectly captured in the scene and you feel both the relief and exhilaration when Quark and Hanok don’t explode into little bits.

For a minute there I thought you were talking to me as a friend As we said in the Odo post, the relationship between the constable and the barman is one of the best explored in the series. We can read between the lines how much they respect each other but just can’t say it. So when Quark (in his jammies!) goes to Odo when he’s hurting over Kira in “Crossfire” and pretends it’s just for his business ventures, we all know what it really means.

I claim the Right of Proclamation One good episode with Grilka deserves another! When the ever-glorious Grilka comes to Quark seeking financial advice in “Looking for par’Mach in All the Wrong Places,” Quark goes above and beyond to win her favor. He even practices how to fight with a bat’leth and learns some of the basics of Klingon culture, all while remaining true to his Ferengi identity! Qapla’!

Let me pour you another By the time we get deep into the Dominion War, Quark is keen to play both sides, but he does his part for the little resistance band too. In “Behind the Lines,” he slyly gets Damar shitfaced enough to spill all the information he has about taking down the cloaked minefield. Like another good bartender I could name, Quark’s main role is to tend the bar and to listen.

Nobody moves except you Soon afterwards when everything in the resistance is going headlong downhill in “Sacrifice of Angels,” Quark practically single-handedly (okay, with Ziyal’s help) saves the day! He tricks a guard using a hasperat soufflé and then straight up shoots two Jem’Hadar goons and rescues everyone from the brig. If it’s not the first time Quark has deliberately killed, he sure plays it that way.

Ferengi can be just as tough as Klingons Quark’s choice to assemble an all-Ferengi elite squadron to rescue Moogie in “The Magnificent Ferengi” may seem hare-brained (it’s a goofy Ferengi episode, after all), but it also speaks to his pride in what Ferengi can accomplish. There’s also a pure familial love for Moogie that is worth all the latinum in the Nagus’s reward (minus the finder’s fee, of course).

My, what big ears you have Finally, Quark would want to flaunt how he turned out to be right in “The Siege of AR-558” when the standoff with Jem’Hadar soldiers results in massive casualties, including costing Nog his leg. But Quark staunchly protects his nephew and uses his superior Ferengi hearing to detect incoming Jem’Hadar soldiers and blow them away before they can finish Nog off.

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Worst moments

A contract is a contract is a contract We could really, really, really have done without this detail. Sarda, one of the Dabo girls, reveals in “Captive Pursuit” that Quark has sexual favors written into their contracts. It’s one thing for the Ferengi to be misogynists and kinda sleazy, but it’s a whole other level for him to engage in sexual manipulation, harassment, and assault. And for the writers to play it as a joke!!!

You Ferengi, you think you’re so clever but you’re stupid We gave Bashir a pat on the back the other week when he saved Jadzia’s life in “Invasive Procedures” when Verad and his hired goons kidnapped the Dax symbiont. But remember that it was all Quark’s fault that these worm snatchers got onto the station in the first place! In his greed to make another illicit deal, Quark let them through the docking ring. All for a little latinum.

I’ve been waiting for you Can we all agree that it’s a bad idea for the holodeck to be able to create holo-images of real people because it will always get gross? Geordi did it in “Booby Trap,” Barclay did it in “Hollow Pursuits,” Odo did it in “His Way,” and in “Meridian,” Quark violates Kira’s privacy to create a sex object for that creep Toran and make a little profit, which is a running theme with him.

No nephew of mine is going to disgrace our family name by joining Starfleet The way Quark scorns Nog for wanting to follow his dreams and join Starfleet is also a pretty bad look for the boy’s uncle. First he tries to forbid Nog from applying to Starfleet in “Heart of Stone” and then he rigs up the holodeck to ensure he’ll fail his exams in “Facets.” Quark just comes across as an overstepping asshole when it comes to his nephew in these cases.

Quark’s Treasure, ready to depart Shocking no one, Quark is looking to make another deal in kemocite which he couches in generosity while bringing Nog to Starfleet Academy in “Little Green Men.” And of course this gets them stranded in the past in Area 51 for a while, breaking the Temporal Prime Directive and perpetuating the trope that Quark will put profit over his family members at any cost.

Great Exchequer, take me now! I like to call “Body Parts” “Missed Opportunities: the episode!” When Quark learns he owes his desiccated remains to Brunt, Quark just… gives up on life and plans to get himself killed by Garak. And this is supposed to be a comedy! This is so not in Quark’s character and I lament that we didn’t get an episode of Quark faking his own death, which would be infinitely funnier and better!

Why, Quark? Why did you kill my baby? While most of Quark’s schemes are just typical goofy Ferengi shenanigans you’re meant to roll your eyes at and accept with a snicker, Quark actually sidles up to committing atrocities when he gets into the arms racket in “Business as Usual.” When even Jadzia, who’s the most forgiving of his Ferengi ways, won’t talk to him anymore, you know he’s gone and done wrong.

Oo-mox for Fun and Profit After years of development into a slightly better person, and just when you start thinking “maybe that episode in which Quark put sexual favors in his Dabo girls’ contracts was a fluke,” “Profit and Lace” comes along. The teaser shows Quark asking Aluura to consider giving him oo-mox or he’ll consider firing her. And by the end when he should have learned better, he’s right back at it. VOMIT.

You’re the worst thing that ever happened to the entire Ferengi Alliance Speaking of “Profit and Lace,” there’s more to hate in this deplorable episode. Quark gets into a screaming fight with his mother, blaming her radical feminism as the cause of all their problems with Brunt dethroning Zek as nagus. It’s an ugly fight in an ugly episode, and Quark cruelly goads his own moogie until she has a heart attack, jeopardizing their plan to reinstate Zek. And nearly killing her!

The REST of “Profit and Lace” I’m not done shitting on “Profit and Lace.” It should be obvious why we rated it hands-down the worst episode of Deep Space Nine, and Quark’s depiction of Lumba is at the heart of it. It’s like Quark has never seen a woman before and concocts the most demeaning caricature. The hormones are inexplicable. The walk is atrocious. The whole thing flies in the face of any message of equality the show might otherwise champion, all for the sake of a Ferengi joke.

I loved Jadzia as much as anyone in this room After pining for Jadzia in season six almost as much as Julian, Quark weasels his way onto the mission to get her soul into Sto-vo-kor. Throughout “Shadows and Symbols,” it feels like all he wants is to one-up the grief of the actual widower in the room, Worf.  Quark makes Jadzia’s death all about him and whines that Worf isn’t gracious enough that he’s there being underfoot.

Someone has to speak up and I’ve decided that someone is me As if all the ogling of Jadzia wasn’t enough, poor Ezri gets targeted by Quark once she arrives on the station. Quark butts in and advises her not to get involved with Worf in “Once More Unto the Breach,” and it’s none of his damn business! The scene plays it off like it’s romantic and funny and cute, but it’s all self serving because he fancies her. Ugh, why did only men largely write this show?

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All bets are final and there will be no reimbursements. That’s it for our Quark chat, but we’ve got more Ferengi characters to spotlight on the way (save me). So make sure you’re following along here, keeping up with our watchthrough of Enterprise over on SoundCloud or wherever you podcast, place your drink order over on Facebook and Twitter, and you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.

[sweetescapeartist]

I had watched Velma (for free cause I aint helping them get views) and theres this trend I hate. That's when they make the white people idiots & always insult them. I'm black and I find that offensive. There's a way to make fun of everybody in a smart way (In Living Color is a great example) but these modern shows are just hateful or not funny or both. They just want to trigger ppl without any kind of positive message.

And I can't be mad at only the ppl who write the shows. The companies who allow it and advertisement and ones who distribute it are at fault too. And when you look at the history of propaganda, I'm pretty sure this is intentional. The United States makes money off of ravial division. This is why we dont have shows like Weekenders, Statick Shock, Doug, Hey Arnold, Xaolin Showdown, Totally Spies, Darkwing Duck, Recess, El Tigre, 6teen, original Teen Titans, Justice League, Kim Possible, The Proud Family (original not the new one), Jackie Chan Adventures, or other shows like that anymore. Those shows brought too many different ppl together. Racial division is profitable but also useful in controlling the minds of the ignorant. And behind it all is politics. One side complains about this while the other complains about that. Then both sides make a profit while controlling the masses through artificial hate.

I wish we could go back to shows that had positive portrayals of all races & both sexes. A group of friends of different races with both guys and girls just happily hanging out and dealing with everyday struggles and how to overcome them with help from your friends. Cause this modern stuff just makes everyone hate each other.

I want shows like Statick Shock where Virgil finds out that his best friend Richie has a racist dad & it upsets Richie so much that he runs away from home. And the dads of both have to work together to find Richie as Richie's dad learns he is misjudging others. And episodes later, Richie's dad is friendly with Virgil and his dad.

Or how in Teen Titans, Starfire was being called a troq by a "heroic" racist. Then Cyborg thinks its just a nickname and calls Starfire that and she gets upset. Then after Cyborg finds out, he says he can relate because he's half cyborg (subtext is that he can relate because he's black). Then all of her friends stand by her and give the cold shoulder to that guy who called her that slur. They weren't gonna put up with that.

Or even in oG SpongeBob when they say Sandy can't do stuff they can because she's a squirrel while they say "sea creatures rule!" That episodes teaches a lesson about both racism and sexism. Sandy is the only girl against a group of guys who thing they are better. Sandy is from a different group of people against a group of water people who thing they are better. Sandy thinks she's better too. Then in the end, they give the lesson that nobody is good at everything and they should value the differneces and what the other person is good at as they apologize to each other.

We peaked in the 90's and 2000's. Sadly, I think its all downhill from there now. Not just with TV shows, but with music and everything else. The good things we get nowadays are just leftovers from a better time that didn't over politicize race, sex, gender, religion, and policital leaning as they do now. Respect is lacking. All ppl want to do is trigger someone. What kind of society is that?