#10/10 victims of The System

[aspdestos]

Casual reminder to be patient when you whip out your chat table without warning because Switch players need time to set up a keyboard AND sometimes there is a bug where it doesn't work and you have to restart Sky to make it work. It's overwhelming when someone is rushing you to respond, and you just can't because of forces beyond your control.

[groupieculture]

i did something really wrong at 10 years old (Immediately tried to amend it and repent btw) and i was in fear and embarrassment all my life bc i thought everyone knew abt it ig or at least some people knew and i was whipping my own back for it all of my stupid life and now i kind of thought about it last night and i was like. i was 10 years old.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Stages of Decomposition

The decomposition process occurs in several stages following death:

Pallor mortis

Algor mortis

Rigor mortis

Cadaveric spasm

Lividity

Putrefaction

Decomposition

Skeletonization

PALLOR MORTIS

The first stage of death.

Occurs once blood stops circulating in the body.

The cessation of an oxygenated blood flow to the capillaries beneath the skin causes the deceased to pale in appearance.

In non-Caucasians, the pallor may appear to develop an unusual hue; the skin will lose any natural lustre and appears more waxen.

Occurs quite quickly, within about 10 minutes after death.

ALGOR MORTIS

The cooling of the body after death.

The cooling process will be influenced by many factors, including the deceased’s clothing, or whether they are covered with bed linen such as blankets or duvets.

The body will typically cool to the ambient room temperature, but this alters if there is heating in the room or if there is a constant draught cooling the body.

RIGOR MORTIS

Can occur between 2 and 6 hours after death.

Factors including temperature can greatly affect this.

Caused by the muscles partially contracting, and the lack of aerobic respiration means that the muscles cannot relax from the contraction, leaving them tense, subsequently resulting in the stiffening we associate with rigor mortis.

This stage typically begins in the head, starting with the eyes, mouth, jaw and neck, and progresses right through the body.

The process is concluded approximately 12 hours after death (although, again, certain variables may occur) and lasts between 24 and 72 hours depending on circumstances.

Contrary to popular belief, rigor mortis is not a permanent state and is in fact reversed, with the muscles relaxing in the same order in which they initially stiffened.

The reversing process also takes approximately 12 hours, when the body returns to its un-contracted state.

It is possible to ‘break’ rigor mortis by manipulating and flexing the limbs. This is usually done by undertakers, pathologists or crime scene investigators who are attempting to examine or move a body – or by a murderer trying to hide their victim in the closet or the boot of a car.

CADAVERIC SPASM

A phenomenon that can be misinterpreted as rigor mortis.

The instantaneous stiffening of the body (most commonly the hands) following a traumatic death.

Unlike rigor mortis, the stiffening of the affected limb is permanent and is not reversed, causing the deceased to maintain the rigidity until such time as putrefaction causes breakdown of the particular muscle group.

Examples:

The deceased following an air crash were later discovered still clutching their seatbelts or arm rests in a final, desperate act of survival.

In a drowning case, the victim was discovered with grass from the riverbank still grasped in their hand.

Perhaps the most famous case of cadaveric spasm involves the rock band Nirvana’s lead singer, Kurt Cobain. Cobain reportedly committed suicide in April 1994. His body was discovered a few days after his death with a shotgun wound to the head, and tests revealed he had large traces of heroin in his system. He was reportedly discovered still clutching the gun in his left hand, due to cadaveric spasm. However, a great deal of controversy surrounds the veracity of this latter assumption, and indeed the cause of his death, with many people insisting and attempting to prove that he died as the result of foul play rather than suicide.

LIVIDITY

Also known as livor mortis, hypostasis, or suggillation.

Once blood can no longer circulate, it will gravitate towards the lowest point of the body.

Example: A supine body will display pinkish/purple patches of discoloration where the blood has settled in the back and along the thighs.

Occurs about 30 minutes after death, but will not necessarily be noticeable until at least 2 hours afterwards as the pooling process intensifies and becomes visible, finally peaking up to between 8 and 12 hours later.

Once it is complete, the lividity process cannot be reversed.

Therefore a body discovered lying on its side, but with staining evident in the back and shoulders, must have been moved at some point from what would have been a supine position at the time of death.

It is worth noting that if the body has had contact with the floor, a wall or other solid surface, lividity would not occur at the points of contact as the pressure would not allow the blood to seep through the capillaries and pool. The specific area of pressure will be the same colour as the rest of the body and a pattern of contact may well be evident.

PUTREFACTION

Derives from the Latin putrefacere, meaning ‘to make rotten’.

The body becomes rotten through the process known as autolysis, which is the liquefaction of bodily tissue and organs and the breakdown of proteins within the body due to the increased presence of bacteria.

The first visible sign is the discoloration of the skin in the area of the abdomen.

Bacteria released from the intestine cause the body to become bloated with a mixture of gases; over time these will leak out, and the smell will intensify to unbearable proportions.

Typically, this will attract flies that will lay eggs, which develop into maggots.

Bloating is most evident in the stomach area, genitals and face, which can become unrecognizable as the tongue and eyes are forced to protrude due to the pressure of the build-up of gases in the body.

At this stage, the body will also begin to lose hair.

The organs typically decompose in a particular order: starting with the stomach, followed by the intestines, heart, liver, brain, lungs, kidney, bladder and uterus/prostate.

Once all the gases have escaped the skin begins to turn black: this stage is called ‘black putrefaction’.

As with all the other stages of death so far, the rate of putrefaction depends on temperature and location. A body exposed to the air above ground will decompose more quickly than a body left in water or buried below ground.

During putrefaction, blistering of the skin and fermentation can also occur:

Fermentation - a type of mould that will grow on the surface of the body. This mould appears white, and is slimy or furry in texture. It also releases a very strong, unpleasant, cheesy smell.

As the putrefaction process comes to an end, fly and maggot activity will become less, which leads to the next stage.

DECOMPOSITION

The body is an organic substance comprising organisms that can be broken down by chemical decomposition.

If the body is outside, any remains that have not been scavenged or consumed by maggots will liquefy and seep into the surrounding soil.

Thus when the body decomposes it is effectively recycled and returned to nature.

SKELETONIZATION

The final stage of death is known as ‘dry decay’, when the cadaver has all but dried out: the soft tissue has all gone and only the skeleton remains.

If the cadaver is outside, not only is it exposed to the elements but it also becomes food for scavengers such as rats, crows or foxes.

As the remains are scavenged, the body parts become dispersed so it is not unusual to find skeletal remains some distance from where the body lay at the point of death.

The way in which skeletal remains are scattered in such cases is of interest to archaeologists, and is referred to as taphonomy.

Where a body has lain undiscovered at home for a period of time it has also been known for family pets, typically dogs, to feed on the body. The natural instinct of a pet is to attempt to arouse the deceased by licking them, but once it gets hungry, its survival instinct will take over and it will consider the body as little more than carrion: it will act with the same natural instinct as a scavenger in the wild, which will feed on any corpse, be it animal or human, if it is starving.

Obviously the number of pets, the body mass of the deceased and the time lapse before the body is discovered will influence to what extent it has been devoured.

For further research on the stages of decomposition and the factors that affect it, look up body farms. These are medical facilities where bodies are donated for research purposes so scientists can specifically observe the decomposition process. However, be aware that some of the images are quite graphic.

Source ⚜ More: References ⚜ Autopsy ⚜ Pain & Violence ⚜ Injuries Bereavement ⚜ Death & Sacrifice ⚜ Cheating Death ⚜ Death Conceptions

Writing Resources PDFs

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol.  Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue (for the spin-off: click here!)

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night. 

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that. 

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break. 

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?” 

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around. 

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five. 

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much. 

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding. 

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd. 

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal. 

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia? 

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend—

Ping! 

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts—and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart. 

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address? 

Ah, just like clockwork. 

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals—for more than you’d care to admit—to boot up. 

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give–pay–for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress. 

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion. 

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain. 

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?” 

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man—what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character. 

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man himself—or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some. 

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic— the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life. 

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well. 

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin. 

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness. 

 What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.” 

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue. 

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means. 

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!” 

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game,  you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different. 

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.” 

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night. 

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face. 

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker—then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.” 

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%....... 

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez—huh?” 

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary. 

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever. 

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock. 

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?” 

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face. 

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter. 

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S 

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.  

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” 

Helplessly, you open your inventory next. 

Your jaw drops. 

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This—this can’t be real.” 

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this—this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada. 

Holy shit. 

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes. 

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?” 

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative. 

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks. 

..

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose. 

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut. 

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk. 

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC. 

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning—or until your battery dies, whichever comes first—you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.” 

-

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

[luulapants]

Adding into the discussion of the incarcerated young people fighting fires in California:

I can think of no place worse than prison for emotionally stunting or regressing a person or for dismantling their ability to make good decisions.

You take an adult or child who maybe has exhibited some antisocial behaviors, right? So you remove them from whatever community and support network they have, put enormous financial and logistical barriers between them and any communication with that community. Incarcerate them hours from home in a place not accessible by train or plane with narrow visiting hours that conflict with people's work schedules, and maybe you're fighting to prevent in person visits at all, maybe you got a kickback from a company selling expensive video call visits so people can't even hug their kids when they drive 6 hours on a Wednesday to see them. Get a kickback from a phone service provider that's going to charge extortionate prices for every minute a person spends talking to their loved ones, and if the state passes a law saying you can't do that anymore, pivot and go after the mail. Subvert USPS. Get a kickback from a company that'll give prisoners shitty scans of letters or refuse to deliver it because it was flagged for drug contamination by a machine with a 70% false positive rate, force them instead to send texts at extortionate rates through their proprietary app.

Put them in an environment with a bunch of other people with social issues and force them to compete for resources. Give them no mental healthcare. If they are victimized by other prisoners, punish the victims with solitary confinement. Transfer people around so they can't form meaningful long-term friendships. Tell them that once they get out, it will be illegal for them to talk to any of the people they meet here.

Hire guards who have no qualifications other than a willingness to be a modern day slave overseer or the ignorance to not realize that's what it is, give them complete control over every aspect of other people's lives and tell them those people want to kill them and that any object can be covered in drugs so dangerous that touching them can kill. Allow the guards to traffic drugs into the prison with impunity. Have the guards discourage racial mixing because racial conflict in the prison means the prisoners won't join up against the staff.

You do all of this and you ask if a 20-year-old, who's been in the system since 14, is emotionally mature or psychologically healthy enough to choose to risk their life in exchange for slightly better living arrangements.

You take someone who has probably made some bad decisions, right? And you put them in a place where every detail of every day is decided for them: what they eat, when they eat, when they sleep, where they sleep, what clothes they wear, who they talk to, where they work. Or maybe you give them big decisions that have no right answer. Maybe at the start of the day, you open the cells and they have 10 minutes to decide if they want to be stuck in their cell all day - no shower, no recreation, no library - or go outside and be stuck in genpop all day - no napping, no alone time, no escape if someone is hassling you. You let them decide if they're going to eat breakfast at 3am (because there's too many meal shifts) or sleep in and spend their precious commissary funds on toaster strudel (they have no toaster) or sleep in and not eat even though you're barely giving them 1000 calories a day. You let them start to make decisions about how to spend their day, then you put them on lockdown, take all those decisions away.

You do all this and then you ask if anyone who's spent time in this environment has the decision-making skills to choose to risk their life in exchange for slightly better living arrangements.

All of the incarcerated firefighters in California are 18 or older, and all of them volunteered, but there is no world in which they were adequately prepared to make that decision.

[vesna-v-irkutske]

In 2014, Artyom Anoufriev registered on a dating site for prisoners.

«"Probably the most uninteresting profile on this site." Posted on Sat, 14/06/2014 - 22:07 by Anoufriev92 Interests: jurisprudence, freestyle, law, music, English language Name: Artyom Gender: M Date of birth: 04/10/1992 Place of permanent residence. Country: Russia. City: Irkutsk Social status. Education: secondary Religion, denomination, faith: atheist Current place of detention. Country: Russia. City: Ognenny Ostrov, 16 The end of the current term: December 2039

Hi, everyone. I'm writing this only because this section of the profile is mandatory. I'm an absolutely versatile person from Irkutsk, who didn't have time to get out of his gray Siberia in the first 18 years of his life. My story is absolutely not exciting, but it's just plain stupid, and there's not much to tell. However, it's worth noting that people are not simply imprisoned for nothing, especially for life. Without touching on the issue of my real misconducts before society, dryly stating what I was found guilty of, according to the verdict of the Irkutsk Regional Court: organization of an extremist community, murder of six people, attempted murder of eight people, theft, robbery, desecration of the body of the deceased, and all this by an organized group motivated by ideological hatred.

I go through the stages (forced transportation of prisoners from one place of detention to another) almost all over Mother Russia and everywhere I hear, both from prisoners and from employees: "So young, and already life imprisonment? Grew up fast…" Or something like that. And I no longer explain to anyone that I am "a victim of the System, and I was convicted under an artificially inflated public outcry," because, by and large, no one cares, and 9 out of 10 newcomers to the colony say that they're not guilty. Or almost not guilty…

So, before my incarceration, I studied at a medical university, sometimes I worked part-time. I became interested in jurisprudence and law only in prison, because I didn't think I needed it at liberty. Freestyle is real texts that are read to the beat, not a sport. Well, as for music, I love a lot of different kinds of it, mostly heavy and electronic. I have 5 years of music school (guitar) behind me. In my free time, I read either classics or whatever I have to, but actually, I don't have time for it yet.

Why did I come to this site? Well, at least for the sake of simple communication with some adequate girl from 16 to 35 years old. Starting a family is, of course, good, but first I need to at least get out of the bad situation I'm in. Legally, this is possible, but time will tell how things will turn out in reality.

Not sending photos because I don't have my own pics and, most likely, so far, their appearance is not expected.

Well, and in conclusion, I'll say this: "I don't care much about the chatter of journalists. When forming an opinion about a person, build it on facts, not stories, and think with your own head."»

[dostoyevsky-official]

The child sextortion group 764 and the global collective of loosely associated groups known as “The Com” are using tools and techniques normally used for financially motivated cybercrime tactics — such as SIM swapping, IP grabbing and social engineering — to commit violent crimes, according to exclusive law enforcement and intelligence reports reviewed by CyberScoop.  The reports offer insight into the underbelly of the global network, showing how they are using traditional cybercriminal tools to identify, target, groom, extort, and cause physical and psychological harm to victims as young as 10. They were shared with police nationwide and in some cases, with foreign-allied governments. [...] The group “appears to be situated at the nexus of communities of users who share gore material, [Racially or Ethnically Motivated Violent Extremist-White Supremacist] adherents such as M.K.U. and child exploitation actors like 764.” M.K.U., it says, is a neo-Nazi group with a presence in Russia and Ukraine. [...] The groups use methods to trick children into sending sexually explicit photos of themselves, threaten to make the photos public unless they harm themselves, and kill or harm animals, among other crimes. The group’s members have coerced children into attempting suicide, harming themselves, siblings and animals. (x)

///

Wired reported this week that a 19-year-old working for Elon Musk‘s so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) was given access to sensitive US government systems even though his past association with cybercrime communities should have precluded him from gaining the necessary security clearances to do so. As today’s story explores, the DOGE teen is a former denizen of ‘The Com,��� an archipelago of Discord and Telegram chat channels that function as a kind of distributed cybercriminal social network for facilitating instant collaboration. [...] Internet routing records show that Coristine runs an Internet service provider called Packetware (AS400495). Also known as “DiamondCDN,” Packetware currently hosts tesla[.]sexy and diamondcdn[.]com, among other domains. DiamondCDN was advertised and claimed by someone who used the nickname “Rivage” on several Com-based Discord channels over the years. A review of chat logs from some of those channels show other members frequently referred to Rivage as “Edward.” From late 2020 to late 2024, Rivage’s conversations would show up in multiple Com chat servers that are closely monitored by security companies. In November 2022, Rivage could be seen requesting recommendations for a reliable and powerful DDoS-for-hire service. Rivage made that request in the cybercrime channel “Dstat,” a core Com hub where users could buy and sell attack services. Dstat’s website dstat[.]cc was seized in 2024 as part of “Operation PowerOFF,” an international law enforcement action against DDoS services. (x)

DOGE teen is a pedophile cybercriminal involved in a neonazi CSA-producing cybergang. and he has access to your SSN.

[queer-scots-geordie-dyke]

I currently have a lot of Jewish mutuals/people I follow and over the course of the last few months, almost Every. Single. One has talked about their mental health declining, that they’re exhausted and terrified, that they’ve become more closed off and lost their trust in people from outside their communities, due to being gaslit and ignored constantly on a society wide scale. Almost all of them have experienced antisemitic abuse or violence personally or had bomb threats to their synagogues and community centres or had swastikas and slurs graffitied on their properties.

The worst thing about this outrage is that none of them are really surprised by it - frightened, sickened, yes - but not surprised. They and their ancestors have had to deal with this shit for thousands of years. And all of them expect - no they *know* - it’s going to get worse.

It’s beyond fucking shameful. We are failing these people on a massive, society wide scale. Again.

So, I NEVER want to see a single one of my fellow goyim say shit like “Jews are just playing the victim,” “the rise in antisemitism is overblown and not as bad as they say because I haven’t seen it,” “it’s just a few extremists,” because NO, IT ISN’T - it’s systemic. Those who aren’t directly perpetrating it are mostly ignoring it. If you won't believe or listen to Jewish voices (if not, why not?) then the cold statistics cannot be waved away.

https://www.reuters.com/world/us/us-antisemitic-incidents-up-about-400-since-israel-hamas-war-began-report-says-2023-10-25/

https://news.sky.com/story/more-than-4-000-antisemitic-incidents-recorded-by-jewish-charity-in-uk-in-2023-with-explosion-in-hatred-blamed-on-hamas-attacks-13071580

https://www.reuters.com/world/how-surge-antisemitism-is-affecting-countries-around-world-2023-10-31/

[thedensworld]

Why Women Kill | K. Mg

Genre: Mistery, Smut (18+)

Summary: your husband of 2 years was found dead while you were away. Kim Mingyu, the detective, try to help you find the truth.

The maid immediately dialed emergency services when she found her master lying lifeless in the dining room. Meanwhile, you, the wife of the house, were in your hometown when the devastating news broke. As soon as you stepped foot in the house, you were met with the sight of police officers investigating the scene. The circumstances of your husband’s death had led them to suspect foul play—potential murder.

A tall man introduced himself as Detective Kim, accompanied by Detective Hong. They both approached you as you stood at the entrance, your luggage still in hand. The devastation on your face was unmistakable, a combination of the long flight from abroad and the shocking news had clearly shaken you.

"I'm so sorry for what has happened to your husband, but we need your full cooperation during the investigation," Detective Hong said gently, before outlining the procedures that would follow in light of your husband's sudden death. His voice was professional yet compassionate, understanding the weight of the tragedy you were facing.

"Please, let us drive you to the place where you'll be staying," Detective Hong offered. "It’s the least we can do for you right now."

"I'm afraid it would be an inconvenience..." you started to protest, your voice weak, but Detective Hong insisted.

The three of you made your way toward the car. Detective Kim took your luggage, his silent demeanor revealing a quiet respect. As you walked, Detective Hong engaged you in conversation, asking about your husband.

"I'm sorry," Detective Hong suddenly said, glancing at his phone. "Mr. Choi needs to see me right away. Mingyu, is it alright to drive alone?"

"Of course," Detective Kim replied politely, opening the car door for you. "Please, Mrs. Moon."

As you settled into the passenger seat, Detective Hong, whose full name was Hong Jisoo, tapped Detective Kim on the shoulder. "Mingyu, I trust you with this. You’re a skilled profiler—I hope you pick up on anything during the drive."

"I’ll do my best, hyung," Mingyu replied with a determined nod.

Later that night, Mingyu and Jisoo reconvened at the police station to discuss the case. Moon Junhui, a renowned celebrity chef, was now the subject of a murder investigation.

"The forensic results should be in by tomorrow," Jisoo informed the team. "It’s hard not to feel for Mrs. Moon. She was on vacation in her hometown, and now she comes back to find her husband might’ve been murdered."

"During our conversation, she seemed like a devoted wife," Jisoo continued, his gaze flicking toward Mingyu. "She sacrificed a lot after settling down with Moon Junhui. Did you notice anything suspicious about her while driving her to the hotel?"

Mingyu leaned back, thoughtful. "Just like you said, hyung—she seemed lost, devastated even. But I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Still, I don’t want to jump to conclusions until we get the forensic results."

The next day, the results came in. Moon Junhui had died from arsenic poisoning, found in his system. The investigation kicked into high gear, and police began interviewing those closest to the victim, including Jung Seyeon, the maid who had found him.

"What was your relationship with the victim?" Detective Kim asked Seyeon as she sat across from him in the station.

"I work for him. I’ve been his maid for about a year now."

"And what happened on the day you found him?"

"My shift starts at 6 AM, and I usually stay until the next morning. Mrs. Moon wasn’t in town, and Mr. Moon is typically at his restaurant until 10 PM. But when I went to check the kitchen, I found him lying on the floor and immediately called emergency services."

Mingyu scribbled down notes. "You mentioned your shift starts at 6, but you called emergency at 5. Why did you arrive an hour early?"

Seyeon nodded quickly. "Mr. Moon asked me to come early that day to get groceries to stock the fridge."

"Your husband was found dead after drinking a cup of coffee he supposedly made himself. He was estimated to have died around 3 AM, but wasn't discovered until 5. Can you tell me anything about your husband’s habits that might help us?"

You took a deep breath, your voice trembling as you tried to keep your composure. "I—I’m not sure why he was home so early. He’s usually at the restaurant late into the night. I’m usually home alone."

"But he did—he does love coffee. He couldn’t go a day without it."

"Is it common for him to drink coffee around that time?" Jisoo asked, his tone gentle but probing.

You shook your head. "No, not at all. He’s normally at work. But I always made his coffee in the mornings."

"What time would that be?" Jisoo pressed.

"Jun’s an early riser. He usually had his coffee around 7 AM, before his morning workout."

You hesitated, then added, "He also preferred his coffee made with bottled water, never tap."

Both Jisoo and Mingyu’s attention sharpened at that. It was a small detail, but potentially significant. The tap water—or the bottle—could be a key to unraveling this mystery.

*

Who would have thought that a maid, secretly having an affair with her employer, could murdered him out of jealousy toward his wife? The case involving the popular couple—Moon Junhui, the celebrity chef, and Ji Y/N, a former actress—shocked the nation. The story immediately went viral, flooding the internet with comments as netizens discussed the tragic events that had unfolded.

The police had finally unraveled the tangled web of deception. They revealed to the public that a woman with the initials JSY—Jung Seyeon, the maid—had laced one of the water bottles in Jun's fridge with arsenic. The poison had originally been intended for his wife, but fate had intervened, and Jun himself drank from the bottle instead. When Jung Seyeon was apprehended, the footage of her resisting arrest and furiously denying the charges went viral, fueling the public's fascination with the case. The world watched in disbelief as the truth unfolded, and messages of sympathy poured in for you—the true victim in the entire ordeal.

Now, you sat across from Detectives Jisoo and Mingyu, the weight of revelation hanging heavy in the air between you. Jisoo had just asked about the state of your relationship with Jun in the months leading up to his death.

"I don’t think I should talk about this, especially since the investigation is officially over," you said softly, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

Jisoo shook his head gently. "I understand, and I don’t mean to press. But you did mention earlier… you said you couldn’t get pregnant? And that your relationship shifted after that?"

Your gaze fell to the floor, the pain of the past months bubbling up inside. "I don’t want this to be public knowledge. He was… someone I used to love, even though he cheated on me in the end. I can’t deny that, for a long time, he was a husband I loved." Your voice cracked with emotion.

Jisoo looked at you, sympathy in his eyes, before he nodded slowly. "I understand. We’re very thankful for your cooperation. Please, if there’s anything you need during this time, don’t hesitate to reach out."

With that, Jisoo and Mingyu quietly excused themselves, leaving the hotel room and giving you the privacy you so desperately needed.

As they walked down the hallway, Jisoo let out a long breath. "She’s an amazing woman," he murmured, the weight of everything they had learned settling on him. "I just don’t understand why Jun would cheat on her."

Mingyu nodded in agreement. "It’s a tragedy. But at least the truth is finally out."

"Yeah," Jisoo replied, "at least now she can start to heal."

*

Meeting you again felt like a miracle. The once-hopeful theater student you had been had blossomed into one of the top actresses in the country. Your face was everywhere—on billboards, magazine covers, and in TV commercials. You were known not only for your beauty but for your incredible acting talent. Mingyu couldn’t help but feel proud as he watched you move effortlessly through the crowd at the college reunion for the photography club. He had been there during your early struggles, and seeing you now made him realize how far you’d come.

After mingling with old friends, you finally made your way over to him. “Hey, how are you?” you asked, your voice soft yet familiar.

Mingyu smiled, his heart skipping a beat. “I’m great. You look amazing today.”

You smiled back, a gentle warmth in your eyes. “Thank you. How’s your work, Mr. Detective?” you teased, your playful tone bringing back memories of the past. Mingyu chuckled softly, feeling a rush of nostalgia.

“How do you know?” he asked, biting his inner cheek to stop himself from grinning too widely.

“I saw your promotion in the newspaper. Congratulations,” you replied.

Mingyu’s heart skipped again. You had still been keeping tabs on him, even after all these years. “Thank you,” he said. “I watched your last movie in the cinema. You were incredible.”

You laughed lightly. “That was two years ago. I haven’t been in anything since then.”

Mingyu nodded, recalling how you had become more elusive since your marriage to celebrity chef Moon Junhui. You had once been everywhere, but now you rarely appeared on TV or in public.

Despite the years and the changes in your lives, the conversation flowed easily, as if no time had passed. By the end of the night, you and Mingyu had exchanged contact information, rekindling a connection that had been dormant for years. This time, it was different—friendlier, warmer, but without the romantic tension that had once existed between you.

In the following days, Mingyu would occasionally send you pictures he found of you during work, little snapshots of your past. In return, you’d send him amusing messages or pictures from your quiet days at home.

One night, Mingyu saw five missed calls from you, all while he had been buried in work. Concern immediately washed over him as he dialed your number, and you picked up almost instantly.

"Hey, sorry… I was working earlier. You never call this late," he began, but his voice faltered when he heard something unusual—your sobbing.

"What's wrong? What happened?" he asked, alarmed by the silence that followed.

“Can you come? I’m so scared,” you whispered, your voice trembling with fear. Mingyu didn’t hesitate. He asked for your location, and you told him you were in a hotel, far from home—almost an hour away. Without wasting another second, he grabbed his keys and left.

When he arrived at the hotel and knocked on your door, nothing could have prepared him for the sight before him. Your hair was disheveled, your eyes were red and swollen from crying, and there was a small cut on the corner of your lip. Mingyu's heart dropped.

He gently pushed you back into the room, his eyes scanning your body. Bruises covered your arms, your neck, and one side of your cheek.

“Did he do this to you?” Mingyu asked softly, kneeling before you as you sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes filled with concern.

You nodded slowly, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks as a sob broke free. Mingyu wrapped you in his arms, holding you tenderly. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his heart breaking for you.

He had always admired your strength. You were passionate, driven, a force to be reckoned with. But now, seeing you like this—shaken, broken, after your husband’s abuse—something inside him snapped. He couldn't stand to see you treated this way.

“Does he do this to you a lot?” Mingyu asked gently, afraid of the answer.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “This is the first time… but he’s been verbally harassing me for a while.”

Mingyu's eyes trailed over the bruises, fury boiling inside him. The thought of your husband doing this made him clench his fists. How could anyone hurt you like this?

“We had a fight,” you continued, voice barely audible. “I haven’t been able to get pregnant… and I was angry too, but he—” Your voice cracked, and you broke down, the weight of it all crashing over you.

“You’re safe now,” Mingyu said softly, pulling you into his embrace again. “I’m here. It’s going to be okay.”

From that night onward, Mingyu became your rock. He was your confidante, someone you could trust during the darkest moments of your marriage. He supported you as you navigated the abuse and waited for the right moment to free yourself from your toxic husband.

And finally, that moment came—when you discovered the ultimate betrayal. He had been cheating on you with the maid you hired just months ago.

“They slept together while I was in the same house as them,” you said bitterly, your voice full of pain. “Every night.”

Hearing this, Mingyu’s protective instinct only grew stronger. You deserved better, and he vowed to stand by you until you found your way out of the nightmare your marriage had become.

However, the past never truly left either of you. Despite the years and distance, there was still a powerful connection between you and Mingyu—one that neither of you could ignore. The comfort, warmth, and undeniable attraction remained, sparking once again whenever you were together. It felt like you had been transported back to your university days, when everything between you was new and exciting.

Originally, the plan was simple: expose the truth about your husband. But the abuse had escalated, and the maid, to your disbelief, had begun dropping subtle hints about her secret affair with Jun, almost as if she wanted you to know. It was sickening, and you found yourself thinking that they deserved each other—a match made in hell.

“He could have killed you eventually,” Mingyu muttered, pressing gentle kisses to the bruises your husband had left behind. Each touch was a mixture of tenderness and suppressed rage.

“I won’t let that happen,” Mingyu whispered, though he knew the reality all too well. If you divorced Jun, the public would likely turn on you—the former actress with a scandal attached, while Jun, the beloved celebrity chef, would play the victim. The world loved him too much to see the truth.

That’s when the plan took shape. Together, you and Mingyu devised a way to make them pay. Using the maid’s background in chemical engineering, and Jun’s obsessive perfectionism and need for control, the pieces began to fall into place. The plan was as meticulous as Jun himself—just as he liked things.

“We’ll be fine. Trust me,” Mingyu reassured you, his voice low but full of conviction. He leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing yours before closing the gap, sealing your pact with a kiss that was both comforting and charged with a passion that had never really faded.

You knew what had to be done. This wasn’t just about revenge—it was about survival, about reclaiming the power that Jun had stripped from you piece by piece. And with Mingyu by your side, you felt like you could finally take it back.

*

“Did you use water from the bottle?” Jun’s voice was low but scrutinizing as he looked at the steaming cup of coffee you placed in front of him. His eyes narrowed slightly, the way they always did when he suspected something was off, as if he was already preparing to find fault.

You nodded, offering nothing more. There was no need to over-explain; you’d already learned that. A year of being with Jun had taught you to anticipate his every need, his every request. You had become attuned to the meticulous nature of his preferences, the way he expected perfection in even the smallest details.

Jun lifted the cup to his lips, his expression unreadable. You watched as he took a slow sip, his sharp palate immediately distinguishing between the coffee made with tap water and the bottled water he’d insisted on after one too many complaints. When he set the cup down, he didn’t say anything, just gave a slight nod of approval before turning his attention back to his tablet.

It had been months in the making, this habit you built, subtly weaving it into his life. First, it was the coffee. Then it was his food. Every dish prepared to his demanding taste, all of it crafted to make him dependent on that bottled water, his palate too sensitive to accept anything less. It was the perfect setup.

As you walked out of the room, your mind flickered back to Mingyu’s advice. “Start with something small,” he had said. “Make him dependent on it, and when the time comes, we’ll use it against him.”

You didn’t know it then, but that was the beginning.

“That woman should handle the groceries from now on,” Mingyu’s voice had been calm but purposeful when he suggested it. He was sitting across from you at a small café, his hand reaching out to touch yours. “Since she’s his girlfriend, she’ll be careless. She won’t put in the same effort you do.”

The idea was brilliant. You had already seen how Seyeon was beginning to infiltrate your life, little by little, her presence creeping into spaces where she didn’t belong. Letting her handle the groceries would be one more way to let her sink deeper into the affair.

The next phase of the plan was more complicated. It required emotional manipulation—a confrontation that would spark tension and lead to what Mingyu called “the perfect motive.”

One evening, after Jun returned from work, you sat him down. The air between you was cold, detached, as if the love that once filled your home had long since evaporated.

“We need to talk,” you said, your voice steady.

Jun glanced at you, sensing the seriousness in your tone. “What’s this about?” he asked, suspicion already creeping into his expression.

“I think we should divorce,” you said plainly, watching for his reaction.

Jun’s face contorted, a mix of disbelief and anger flashing in his eyes. “Divorce? What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you continued, keeping your voice level. “I know about you and Seyeon. I’ve known for a while.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Jun’s hands clenched, his jaw tightening. You could feel the rage building beneath his composed exterior.

“If you leave her, I won’t say a word about it to the media,” you added, throwing down the ultimatum that would push him over the edge. “But if you don’t—”

The threat hung in the air like a blade. And just as you had expected, the storm followed soon after. That very night, you heard Jun and Seyeon arguing in hushed but heated whispers, thinking you were asleep. You found your dresses shredded, your things broken, and Seyeon’s jealous tantrums began surfacing in ways that made it clear she knew her days were numbered.

The moment had finally come when Mingyu handed you the small vial containing the colorless, tasteless powder. “Here, put this in his water,” he said quietly, his eyes holding yours in a steady, unwavering gaze.

You stared at the vial in your hand, feeling its weight—not just the physical weight but the weight of what it symbolized. This was it. The culmination of everything you and Mingyu had planned, carefully, methodically, over the last few months. You felt a slight tremor in your hand, not from fear but from the adrenaline rushing through you.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice betraying a sliver of doubt. “What if something goes wrong? What if we get caught?”

Mingyu reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “Nothing will go wrong,” he said softly, his voice soothing. “Seyeon’s been doing the grocery shopping, right? She hasn’t been restocking the fridge properly. The water bottles will run low, and when Jun reaches for one, it’ll be this one.”

You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the anxiety bubbling up inside you. Mingyu had thought of everything, hadn’t he? He’d been so meticulous, so careful, just like Jun. And now, he was asking you to trust him with something so dangerous, so final.

“I’ll handle everything,” Mingyu reassured you, his fingers brushing over yours, calming your nerves. “If anything happens, I’ll make sure the investigation leads straight to her. She’s been careless, reckless. We’ll plant the arsenic in her things. No one will suspect you.”

This was it. The moment you had been waiting for, months in the making. Everything was going according to plan.

And just as Mingyu had promised, everything unfolded perfectly. The investigation led straight to Seyeon. The arsenic was found in her apartment, carefully planted in a way that left no doubt in the minds of the police. The media frenzy that followed was everything you had expected—and more. Seyeon’s public fall from grace was swift and brutal. The perfect crime, and no one suspected a thing.

“We’ll be fine, love,” Mingyu whispered one final time, pulling you into his arms as the chaos unfolded around you. You had trusted him, and in the end, he had been right. You were free.

*

“How was your mother?” Mingyu’s deep voice broke the comfortable silence as he watched you from the couch. You were standing in front of the mirror, slowly smoothing lotion onto your skin, your body illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Mingyu leaned back, his gaze following the gentle movements of your hands, admiring the peacefulness in the room. After everything the two of you had been through, moments like this felt sacred—quiet, intimate, and free from the chaos that had once consumed your life.

You glanced at him through the mirror, offering a soft smile. “She’s doing fine. But she’s getting older, and I’ve been thinking about asking her to move in with me. She’s so stubborn, though. She won’t leave the countryside. She’s always been attached to that place.”

Mingyu smiled, enjoying the way your voice softened when you spoke about your mother. It was something he admired about you—the way you cared so deeply for the people you loved. “It’s understandable. She’s probably got a lifetime of memories there. But, maybe one day she’ll change her mind,” he said, standing up and walking toward you.

His hand rested gently on your shoulder as he spoke. “How did she react to everything with Jun?” Mingyu asked, referring to the fallout from your former husband’s scandal, his voice cautious but curious.

“She was shocked,” you admitted, turning slightly to look at him. “But not entirely surprised. She’s always known something wasn’t right between Jun and me. I think what worried her the most was me suddenly staying with her for a month and then leaving again. She probably sensed something was going on beneath the surface.”

Mingyu chuckled softly, his eyes warm with understanding. “She’s your mom. She knows you better than anyone else.”

He reached for the lotion bottle, squeezing some into his palms. Without a word, he gently began to rub it into your shoulders, his strong hands massaging the tension from your muscles. His touch was firm but soothing, easing away the weight of everything you had carried over the past few months. His reflection in the mirror locked eyes with yours, and there was something grounding in his presence—something that made you feel safe.

“How are you feeling?” Mingyu asked, his voice low, almost a whisper, as his hands continued to glide over your skin, working their way down your back.

You tilted your head slightly, pausing to think before responding. “I feel... relieved, but also worried. It’s strange. I thought I’d feel only relief after everything, but there’s this part of me that’s still anxious, like something could go wrong.”

Mingyu’s hands paused for a moment, then he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head. “That’s normal,” he whispered against your hair. “You’ve just come out of a toxic relationship, and it’s going to take time to fully feel like yourself again. But you’re free now, and I’m here. You don’t have to carry that weight alone anymore.”

You smiled at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. His reassurance was exactly what you needed, a reminder that you were no longer trapped, no longer alone. “Thank you, Mingyu,” you said quietly, your voice filled with gratitude.

He turned you toward him, his hands moving to cup your face as he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. “Anything for you,” he whispered, sealing his promise with a tender kiss.

The kiss deepened, turning heated as Mingyu's hand trailed from the nape of your neck down to your waist, gently yet possessively pushing you against the wall. His fingers explored every contour of your body, mapping out your curves, while your hand slipped into his hair, massaging his scalp. A soft moan escaped his lips, the pleasure from your touch sending shivers through him.

His hand slid under your pajama top, his palm pressing against the bare skin of your back before moving upward, cupping your breast perfectly in his hand. He massaged it with slow, deliberate strokes, while his other hand trailed lower, squeezing your ass firmly.

“I want to make you feel so good,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear before his lips traveled down to your neck. His tongue painted your skin like a canvas, leaving wet trails as he marked you with kisses.

With a firm grip, he lifted your thigh to his waist, thrusting his hips against your core, letting you feel how hard you had made him.

“I need you…” you whispered, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt. Mingyu didn’t hesitate. He pulled you down to the floor, urgency in his movements as he unbuttoned his pants. You helped him peel his shirt off, both of you shedding layers like you couldn’t get close enough.

His lips found your breast, his mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking and teasing it as if his life depended on it. Meanwhile, his hand slipped under the waistband of your pants, slowly dragging them down just enough to let his fingers explore. He groaned softly as his fingers brushed over your warm, wet core, teasing you with playful strokes before finally slipping one finger inside.

“Mingyu…” His name left your lips in a breathless plea, the sound making his smirk grow wider.

“What is it, baby?” he asked, his voice deep with lust.

“Please… I want you,” you murmured, feeling the need building with every slow, tantalizing movement of his fingers.

“Not yet, baby…” he shushed you, his finger moving faster, his other hand steadying your body against the intensity.

“Ah… fuck…” you moaned, your body arching as he added another finger, filling you even more. His movements quickened, relentless, as he pumped his fingers inside you, the wet sounds filling the room.

“Can you hear that? That’s you, so wet… just for me,” he rasped, his voice low and husky.

Your breath hitched as he slipped a third finger inside, the stretch making your head spin as your body tightened in response. The pooling heat in your belly grew unbearable.

“Mingyu… I can’t, it’s too much—”

“Cum for me, baby… I can feel it,” he urged, his fingers moving faster, harder, as if he were chasing your release himself.

Your body obeyed, the tension snapping as you hit your climax, gasping as waves of pleasure crashed over you. “I’m cumming…” you barely managed to say, your voice breaking as your orgasm rippled through you, leaving you breathless.

Mingyu smirked in satisfaction, watching you squirt against his fingers. He lowered you to the floor, giving you no time to recover as he kneeled between your legs, his mouth instantly finding your wetness. His tongue swirled against your sensitive core, drawing out every last drop of pleasure as you let out a desperate whine, your legs trembling beneath his touch.

His tongue worked you expertly, tasting every inch of you, the sound of your moans driving him crazy. He could listen to you like this forever, and he knew he’d never tire of making you feel this crazy.

"Too much…" you managed to whisper through your hitched breath. Mingyu stood from his position, effortlessly lifting you into his arms and carrying you to the bed. As he laid you down gently, he pulled off his boxers, freeing his cock, which was swollen and slick with precum, the tip flushed red—an undeniable sign of how badly he wanted you. But tonight wasn’t about his desires; it was about making you forget all your worries, about making you feel cherished.

His lips captured yours again as he hovered over you, gently laying you down on the bed. His hands moved up to your breasts, teasing them, thumbs circling your sensitive nipples, while his kisses trailed down your neck.

"I'm going to treat you so good, baby. You're my princess… Cum for me again, yeah?" he murmured, his voice low and tender as he gazed into your eyes. Then, without hesitation, he lowered himself between your legs again, his lips finding your core once more.

"Please, Mingyu… it's too much…" you whimpered, the overwhelming pleasure making your body tremble. Mingyu only hummed in response, the vibration from his voice sending another jolt of pleasure straight to your belly, making you moan louder.

His tongue worked you with expert precision, every flick and swirl pushing you closer to the edge. It felt like you were floating, everything around you fading away as pleasure consumed you. You could see flashes of white behind your eyelids, the sensation so intense you could barely breathe.

Sensing how far gone you were, Mingyu playfully pinched your thigh, grounding you in the moment just as your second orgasm began building. Your body jerked in response, and you gasped, arching against him.

"I'm close…" you whispered, the words barely making it past your lips.

"Yes, baby, cum for me," Mingyu urged, his deep voice almost a command. "I’ve got you."

Your body convulsed as your orgasm crashed over you, more powerful than the first. You cried out, hands tangling in Mingyu's hair, pushing him closer to your core as he licked you through your release. His tongue didn’t relent, driving you further into ecstasy as your body quivered and your mind spun from the intensity.

When you finally came down from the high, breathless and trembling, Mingyu lifted his head, his lips glistening with your essence. His warm smile filled you with a sense of peace. Climbing back up your body, he kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, the intimacy of the moment leaving you breathless once more.

"I love you," Mingyu murmured against your lips, his voice soft but filled with passion. He kissed you again, slower this time, as if savoring every second. "You’re everything to me."

The warmth in your chest spread, a feeling of deep love and connection wrapping around you. Mingyu wasn’t just making love to your body; he was worshipping every part of you, showing you just how addicted he was—to you, to the way your body responding his every touch. He was all yours tonight, and he would remind you of that over and over again.

"You want me, baby? Think you can handle me?" Mingyu asked, his voice low and teasing as his gaze trailed down your body. Desperation laced your nod, your breaths coming quicker as you clenched around nothing, your body betraying just how much you needed him. Mingyu smirked at the sight, loving how your body was begging for him just as much as he wanted you.

"Are you sure you can take me?" he murmured again, his tip barely grazing your entrance, rubbing teasingly against your slick folds. Your lips parted in a soft whimper, eyes pleading as you muttered a quiet beg.

"Well, since you asked so nicely…"

Mingyu slowly, deliberately, slid his cock into you, the stretch sending a wave of pleasure through your body. Your walls welcomed him with a tight warmth, like he belonged there, and Mingyu whimpered softly near your ear as he pushed deeper, still amazed at how tight you felt around him, even after all this time.

"Oh my—just like the first time…" he groaned, his voice thick with need.

"You're so big," you breathed out, making his cock twitch inside you. Mingyu hissed through his teeth, half-warning you to stop saying things like that, his control hanging by a thread.

"You feel so amazing… you have no idea," he muttered, burying himself fully inside you, both of you moaning at the sensation. It felt perfect, as if everything about this moment—about you two—was exactly right.

"Move, baby… you can move," you urged him, your voice barely a whisper, but Mingyu heard it loud and clear. He began to thrust, slowly at first, then picking up the pace as you adjusted to the delicious fullness.

"Did he fuck you good?" Mingyu asked, his tone darkening as he picked up speed, the jealousy biting at him. He needed to know, needed to hear it from you—needed the reassurance that no one else could make you feel the way he did. Not Jun, not anyone.

You shook your head, desperation and pleasure etched into your expression as your breathing grew more ragged. Mingyu could feel your walls tightening around him as he angled his hips, hitting the spot that made you see stars.

"Only you," you gasped out, barely able to form the words as he continued to thrust, hitting that perfect spot again and again. "Only you can do this to me…"

Mingyu groaned deeply at your confession, pulling your face toward his for a sloppy, heated kiss. His lips claimed yours, your moans mingling as he lifted your leg, folding you in half to get deeper, hitting places you didn’t even know existed.

His pace quickened, every thrust sending shocks of pleasure through your body. His fingers found your clit, circling it in sync with his movements, pushing you further toward the edge. You couldn’t stop your hands from clawing at his back, your nails leaving marks, but the pain only heightened Mingyu's pleasure.

"I'm close," you gasped, the pressure in your belly building to an unbearable peak. Mingyu's arms slid beneath your head, pulling you closer, craving the skin-to-skin contact as he chased both of your releases. His moans mixed with yours as he felt your walls clamp down around him, your orgasm washing over you, pulling him deeper into his own.

Your body shook as he thrust through your high, and despite the overstimulation, he kept going, desperate to find his own release. His thrusts grew sloppier, more erratic, until finally, with a groan, he buried himself inside you, ropes of hot cum filling you as he reached his climax.

He dropped his head onto your shoulder, panting as he continued to ride out the last waves of pleasure, even as your body trembled through another small, overstimulated orgasm.

When the intensity finally subsided, Mingyu flipped you both over, letting you rest on top of his chest as your breathing slowly returned to normal. He gently stroked your back, grounding you as you recovered.

"Let's rest for five minutes… then I'll ride you," you whispered, voice still thick with exhaustion, but the promise in your words sent a spark through Mingyu.

His ears pearked at your words, and like an eager puppy, he grinned widely. The thought of you riding him filling him with anticipation. Finally, after everything, you are his— completely and utterly his. And he couldn't wait for more.

*

"Tell me something I don't know," Hong Jisoo stated, his voice slurred as he and Mingyu sat across from each other, four empty bottles of soju scattered on the table between them.

Mingyu didn’t falter, continuing to grill the meat in front of him, though he knew where this conversation was heading. Jisoo's drunken state had loosened his tongue, and now he was asking about something they both knew all too well.

"I saw you with Mrs. Moon. Or should I call her Y/N?" Jisoo’s brow raised, his words no longer filtered by sobriety.

Mingyu glanced at him, a brief silence hanging in the air before he sighed. "Since when?" Jisoo prodded, his curiosity piqued.

"We've known each other since college," Mingyu finally admitted, flipping the meat on the grill with a practiced hand.

Jisoo nodded, leaning forward. "So why did you pretend like you didn’t know her during the investigation?" he asked, a hint of accusation lacing his words.

"It was... awkward," Mingyu confessed, his hand absently scratching the back of his neck. "We used to date for a long time. She got married, and then her husband died... tragically."

Jisoo’s expression softened slightly as Mingyu continued. "You know the case. Jun treated her horribly, and honestly... my feelings for her were too strong. I couldn’t just ignore it. Once the investigation was over, I reached out to her because I wanted to support her."

Jisoo nodded again, slowly digesting the explanation. He was a man who valued logic, and Mingyu’s reasoning made sense to him in his inebriated state. "So, you two are dating again? I heard she announced her retirement."

"Yeah," Mingyu replied with a nod. "We started seeing each other again. She retired and decided to move in with her mother. It’s been good for her."

Jisoo sighed deeply, slumping forward on the table. "I was her fan, you know. She was a great actress!" he slurred, nearly knocking over the grill as he lost his balance.

Mingyu quickly reached out, steadying Jisoo before he burned himself. "Yeah," Mingyu agreed quietly, glancing down at the sizzling meat. "She really was."

As Jisoo drifted into a drunken stupor, Mingyu couldn’t help but reflect. You were a great actress. And somewhere along the way, you’d taught him to be one too, hiding secrets behind composed smiles and well-practiced lies.

[eternal-evergreens]

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - II " ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Attempted Non/Con, Stalking, Violence, Age Gaps, Teacher/Student, Caretaker/Ward, One Suicide Joke, Bullying,

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

What…what does that mean?

Darling? Surely, they don’t mean it the way you think they mean it…

…But, if that were the case, why would it be written in red and pink? You think back on all the strange occurrences of the day and come to a horrifying realization.

Beauty: 7/6 Your beauty is beyond measure. Robin wants to be your best friend.             Love: 100% Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Lust: 40% Whitney wants to own you. Love: 50% Dominance: 50% Lust: 100% Kylar is obsessed with you. Love: 100% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90% Sydney is conflicted. Love: 77% Purity: 44% Lust: 66% Bailey doesn’t want you to leave. Love: 25% Lust: 99% You’re Leighton’s favorite. Love: 10% Lust: 85% Your fellow students desire you.

When they say “Darling,” they mean it as in the victim of a yandere.

This...this isn't DoL.

Your phone buzzes. You’ve gotten a text. 

Congratulations! You’ve made a key discovery and found a fragment of the true nature of this world. 

What the fuck does that mean? Wait, this thing can read your thoughts? 

View fragment?  Y/N

Yes. If you can go home, yes.

There are 7 total fragments.             Fragments found: 2             Fragments remaining: 5 Fragment 1:            Welcome to the alpha of Degrees of Lewdity!           If you want to avoid trouble, dress modestly and stick to safe, well-lit areas. Nights are particularly dangerous. Dressing lewd will attract attention, both good and bad.            The new school year starts tomorrow at 09:00. The bus service is the easiest way to get around town. Don’t forget your uniform and backpack!

You remember getting this message. So, that was a fragment, then? Why weren’t you notified before? Did you need to unlock something first?

Fragment 2: This is a world full of yanderes, so be careful! Balance your social stats between fascination, love, lust, jealousy, and devotion to survive. A quick guide on these crucial four states is provided below:  Fascination indicates how enthralled your yandere is by the idea of you. It’s dangerous to let this get too high!  Love indicates how much a yandere values the authentic you. Putting on airs will lower your yandere’s love, but may be necessary at times. Having a negative love will lead to more dangerous encounters. Lust indicates carnal desire. Higher lust can aid in negotiations if you’re willing to reward them, but if this stat goes up too much, they won’t be willing to hear you out before taking what they want. Jealousy indicates the yandere’s volatility and desire to monopolize you. Some yanderes’ jealousy will go up if you don’t spend enough time with them.  Devotion indicates how far the yandere is willing to go out of their way for you. Having this stat means you can make use of your yanderes, but they may also use their devotion in less productive ways.

Seems like every fragment reveals one truth about the world, as well as some tips on how to make use of the information it provides.

Your phone buzzes.

System error. Please reboot.

You look down at your phone with curiosity. What happened? Not knowing what else to do, you restart your phone and open it again. 

Your social tabs have been updated with more accurate information. View tabs? Y/N

Yes.

Social                Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible Primary relationships Robin The Orphan Robin wants to be your best friend.       Facination: 100% Love: 0% Devotion: 30% Lust: 40%         Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Whitney The Bully  Whitney wants to own you.       Facination: 50% Love: 0% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 50% Lust: 100% Kylar The Loner Kylar is obsessed with you.       Fascination: 100% Love: 0% Devotion: 30% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90% Sydney The Faithful ? Sydney is conflicted.       Fascination: 77% Love: 0% Devotion: 20% Purity: 44%        Lust: 66% Other relationships:  Bailey The Caretaker Bailey doesn’t want you to leave.       Fascination: 25% Love: 0% Lust: 99% Devotion: 1% Leighton The Headmaster You’re Leighton’s favorite.       Fascination: 16% Love: 0% Lust: 85% Devotion: 0% Reputation  The police aren’t concerned with you, and have no evidence linking you to any crime. The atmosphere in the orphanage is calm. You are considered a normal student by teachers. Your fellow students desire you. Lust: 100% Status: 50%

Before you can properly digest this new information, your phone buzzes again.

Congratulations! You’ve unlocked a new quest.  You have just discovered two secrets of the world, and with it, your understanding becomes clearer. ++Awareness. You feel as if you are on the verge of remembering something important. Discover all there is to know about this place, and perhaps you may be granted the opportunity to escape it. View questpage? Y/N

You might be able to go home? You quickly hit the yes button and keep reading.

Main questline  >Find the remaining fragments and discover the true nature of this world. >Meet the remaining love interests.  Time-sensitive >Bailey wants £100 on Sunday.

…You have to meet the remaining love interests? Doesn’t that mean getting kidnapped?! You stare at your phone dejectedly as you roll over in bed. You’ll worry about that later. For now, you just need to rest. You close your eyes, but you can’t get comfortable. Your phone buzzes for what feels like the millionth time, and you lazily pull it out to check. 

You’ve unlocked a new quest!  Your bed is uncomfortable. All rest points are reduced by half. Nightmares are more intense. Every rest has a 5% chance of waking you up sore. Save up your funds and buy a comfortable bed!  Current funds: £186 Funds needed: £2400 Optional: Decorate your room to match your taste. Current funds: £186 Funds needed: ??? Rewards: Triple current rest points, nightmares reduced Penalty: None Bonus Rewards: +Love to all LI’s, passive stress and trauma decay faster while inside.

Money again, huh? Typical. Still, the rewards are pretty good. You’ll have to do it later. For now, you should probably go to work to make it happen. You change out of your uniform and head to the office building, where you approach the kiosk and apply as a temp. It’s a somewhat risky job, but the pay is one of the best, especially once you start getting bonuses.

Your manager this time is a trim man named Marcus. He shows you around the building and you get to work. It’s not too bad, though your clothes get caught in the shredder more times than you’d like to admit, at least you didn’t fall in the koi pond.

Before you realize it, it’s 22:00. Dark once again. Dark in Doltown with a constantly maxed allure. 

Fuck.

You go downstairs and are debating whether you should risk the bus or the streets when a growling pair of yellow eyes meets your gaze. 

“If I get molested by a dog, I’m actually gonna kill myself,” you say to no one in particular, immediately turning to the direction of the nearest bus stop.

That’s another reason you should work at the dog pound from time to time, actually. Completing various tasks there makes the streets safer at night and beastiality encounters less frequent. 

You end up having to use your sole pepper spray charge on two men from the bus, leaving you unprotected and uneasy. You open your phone and turn on the flashlight, but your eye is caught by your status. Right under the blurb telling you about your current state, is purple text reading: “Something is watching you.”

An idea strikes you. It’s bold, it’s risky, it’s—

This is stupid, you think to yourself. This is so, so stupid. You follow your flashlight to a secluded, dead-end alleyway. There’s only one way for someone to come in here. You check your phone. Something is watching you.

“Hello?” You call out. “I know you’re watching me. Come out already.” You hear a rustling near the garbage bags, then see a short figure dart out and make a run for it. You were expecting this, though, so you immediately break out into a sprint and give chase. You aren’t very fast, but your legs are longer, and you quickly catch up. “Gotcha,” you say, hand on their shoulder as you turn them to face you. “Kylar.”

“H-how did you know?” 

“Forget that. Just know I’m not mad.” 

“Y-you aren’t?” There’s a twinge of hope in his voice. Time to crush it.

“I’m not. Not yet, anyway.” Kylar looks confused. “I hear you’re good at chemistry. Can you make pepper spray?” 

“How did you-” 

“Can you?” You say, allowing your voice to take on a flirtatious lull as you lean in close. “I’d be very happy if you could.” You bat your eyelashes and Kylar gulps. He tries to nod but ends up hitting your head with his own by accident. +Pain 

“Good,” you say. “I want you to make pepper spray for me. Make sure I never run out, and you can follow me to your heart's content. Deal?” You hold out your hand for him to take. Kylar considers it for a moment, then takes your hand. ++Devotion. You shake, but he doesn’t let go. Not wanting to provoke him, you leave it, and Kylar ends up walking you home. It’s silly, but you actually feel a little safer walking with him. +Love.

Together, you reach the orphanage’s entrance. Kylar looks like he wants to ask you to stay the night but quickly flushes and runs away. 

Thank God. 

You climb into bed. It isn’t very comfortable.

——————— 

It is the 6th of September, 2022. -It has been 2 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £357 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are alert Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are confident Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You walk with Robin to school but part ways after reaching the courtyard. You aren’t sure where Robin goes when you part, but you suppose it doesn’t really matter. You head to the library but are surprised to find that Sydney isn’t there. You guess he must have overslept at the temple again, which means he won’t be back until lunch. 

You suddenly wish you knew where Robin went after arriving at school. It’s probably more dangerous to wander around looking for him, though. So you settle down with a textbook until it’s time for class. When you check your school progress, you’re delighted to see every subject at nearly a 50% understanding for the week already. You’re on track.

The science project is assigned. You decide to do one on lichen. The money will help a lot, and it’ll be a good chance to meet Avery for your quest, too.

Someone spills acid on you during class. It was probably supposed to hit your shirt, but because of how you can’t button it up past your chest, it ended up hitting your breast instead. You spent the rest of class in the infirmary getting lectured about lab safety. Luckily, it was hardly even a first-degree burn. It’ll heal in no time, she said. 

+Pain +Willpower

You return just in time to be late for math. +Delinquency 

“Detention,” River says, not bothering to look up from the whiteboard. 

“But—”

“Don’t talk back to me.”  ++Delinquency

You nod, though you doubt he can see it, and look for a seat. The room is full, save for one seat in the back next to Whitney. It’s covered in boxes full of heavy textbooks.

Your phone buzzes. 

>Move the boxes and sit next to Whitney +Fatigue -Dominance Increases chance of harassment >Sit in Whitney’s lap (Promiscuity 4) +++Dominance +++Lust -Jealousy  >Ask someone to move +Delinquency -Dominance >Leave the classroom +++Delinquency

You sigh and march over to a toned boy sitting in the front. You try to smile but end up grimacing instead. “Could I sit here?” You ask. The boy laughs. River shoots you a look. -Status +Deliquency

>Get physical ++Delinquency +Status ? >Move the boxes and sit next to Whitney +Fatigue -Dominance Increases chance of harrasment >Sit in Whitney’s lap (Promiscuity 4) +++Dominance +++Lust -Jealousy  >Leave the classroom +++Delinquency

You grit your teeth and walk over to Whitney, who pats his lap mockingly. You turn away from him to pick up the boxes, and he lifts your skirt up. You don’t think anyone saw, but it was still humiliating. You quickly move the boxes and sit down, trying to focus on the lesson. You’re doing pretty well despite your low grade, but sitting next to Whitney is definitely not helping. About halfway through the lesson, he throws a note at you, and despite your better judgment, you open it. 

“show us your panties slut”

>Flash (Exhibitionism 1) +Lust +Dominance >Throw away -Dominance >Correct the note and throw back (English: Very difficult) --Dominance

You try to correct the note, but find nothing wrong. You toss it in a nearby bin instead.

-Dominance 

The rest of class passes, and although Whitney tries to undo your bra strap again, he reaches for the back instead of the front, leaving you protected.

You go to English next, your previous encounter with Whitney leaving you motivated to do well. You see Kylar sitting in the back. You ignore him and focus on the lesson instead. It’s boring, but you need the grade, so you muddle through it.

You try to muddle through it, anyway. The person behind you keeps kicking your seat, and then looking away every time you turn to face him.

>Tell the teacher -Status +English >Endure +Stress >Move seats +Delinquency

You quietly inform the teacher of your predicament, and she sends the boy to another seat. Some students snicker at you, but you’re able to finish the lesson in peace. -Status +English

The bell rings, and you head to lunch. Robin is eating with some others from the orphanage; they seem to be having fun. Sydney is sitting behind a large pile of books; he looks stressed. Kylar is eating alone, stabbing food with a fork; he looks bored.

>Sit with Robin +Love -Stress -Jealousy  >Sit with Sydney +Love -Stress -Jealousy >Sit with Kylar +Love -Jealousy +++Pepper spray charge  >Eat Lunch -Stress

You sit with Kylar, and hope no one notices. He immediately perks up upon seeing you. “I-I got you this,” he says, handing you a pepper spray canister. “Should keep the perverts away.” 

You gained 20 pepper spray charges! Talk to Kylar each week to refill. >Take it but say nothing -Love >Take it and thank +Love +Devotion >Take it and kiss ++Lust ++Devotion >Take it and reward +++Lust +++Devotion

You thank him sincerely, and the two of you spend the rest of lunch together. +Love +Devotion

After eating, you buy a coffee and head to the library, walking up to Sydney. “Welcome back!” He chirps from behind the desk. He looks exhausted despite the chipper tone. You hand him the coffee. 

“Don’t overwork yourself,” you say, smiling. Sydney looks surprised but quickly smiles and takes the coffee from you. You look down at the stacks of books on his desk. +Love “Anything I can help with?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” you say firmly. You feel bad just leaving him there, plus…

>Help Sydney +Love +Devotion +School -Sydney’s purity

Well, how can you turn that down? Aside from the purity loss, those are all pretty damn good. 

“Well, if you don’t mind,” he says, fidgeting a little. “Could you help me stamp these books?” You nod, and Sydney lets you in behind the counter. +Love +Devotion +School

The two of you chat while you work, and it actually ends up being pretty enjoyable! -Stress -Trauma +Love

Your hands brush with Sydney's while you work. -Sydney'd purity.

“Hey, Syd! Oh, and [First], too!” Someone says, walking up to the counter. It’s Sirris, Sydney’s father and your science teacher. “How are you doing, love bug?” Sydney looks embarrassed but still answers. “Oops! I forgot I’m not supposed to call you that at school. Sorry, hon.” You get the feeling he did it on purpose, but if Sydney also thinks this, he doesn’t say anything. The two of them chat for a little bit, with Sirris mostly ignoring your presence. You feel a little awkward, but it’s cute to see the two of them getting along so well. Sirris leaves after a few minutes, waving to you both.

You smile at Sydney. “Seems like you and Dad are pretty close, huh?” He flushes. 

“L-let’s get back to work,” he says. You decide not to tease him further. The two of you finish the rest of the work in silence, and the bell rings, so you get up and head to History class.

A mousy girl is sitting in your seat next to Robin. You ask her to move, but she won’t budge. You already have detention today, so you decide not to push it and sit somewhere else. Robin looks at you sadly from across the room +Jealousy

You’re called up by Winter to demonstrate the pillory in front of the class, you hesitate to step up, but, remembering Leighton’s punishments, decide to risk it. Unfortunately, luck is not on your side, and Winter is called out while you’re still locked in the pillory. 

“Who thinks the lesson should continue?” Says a slight boy. He gets up from his seat and begins to saunter over, but Robin stands up, too, and blocks his path forward. 

“Stop,” he says, tone even and steady.

“Oh? And what’re you going to do about it?” The slight boy asks. Robin seems to falter for a moment, and the slight boy takes advantage, pushing past him and walking up behind you. You don’t see what happens next, but one moment Robin is in front of you, and the next, he’s gone. You hear a smacking noise behind you, and then a thud as if something had just hit the ground. The class looks incredulous. Winter walks back in. 

“Assaulting another student? I expected better from you, Robin,” he says. 

“Wait, I can explain–” 

“Detention.” 

The slight boy smacks your ass on the way back to his seat. 

+Trauma +Stress

You go to swimming, but your earlier run-in with acid leaves you unable to participate, so you just sit by the pool in your swimsuit until class is over. When you get back, you notice your underwear is missing. You put your clothes on over your swimsuit. It looks a little funny from the front, but it’s better than nothing.

Actually, you might start doing this more often. A swimsuit is tight and harder to get off, no one can unclasp your bra, you don’t have to change, and it’ll actually cover your boobs, even with the shirt unbuttoned. This is a great idea, you think to yourself, feeling a little proud. 

You start to walk to the front courtyard when your phone reminds you of your detention. Shit. You’d forgotten. At least Robin will be there with you? 

Sighing, you head back inside. 

“Keep writing, and don’t stop until I tell you to,” Leighton says. You glance at Robin, who’s working diligently. You decide to work hard, too. +Fatigue 

Robin asks to walk home with you, but you tell him you’re going to the park instead. He waves you off, but there’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there before. +Jealousy

You go to the park and meet Avery, asking for help gathering Lichen. You tell him about your school project, and he offers to take you out for drinks. You don’t really want to get involved with him, but you’re a little afraid of refusing him.

>Go for drinks +Facination +Dominance +Love? >Refuse -Love +Lust +Rage

None of those options look good, but you remember the guide saying that negative love leads to more dangerous encounters. You take his hand, and the two of you go out. The place he picked is cute, and the employees there seem to recognize him. 

“Can I recommend you a drink?” He asks. “I think I know what you’ll like.” 

>Buy Avery’s recommendation +Facination +Dominance +Stress >Pick your own drink +Love -Stress -Dominance -Fascination -Endearment

You pick your own drink and the two of you find a quiet corner to sit down in. +Love -Stress -Dominance -Fascination -Endearment

Your phone buzzes. 

You’re on a date with Avery! How do you want to conduct yourself? >Act cute +Facination +Endearment >Act shy +Facination -Endearment >Act aloof --Endearment ++Lust  >Be natural -Facination +???

You choose to act natural, hoping he’ll lose interest in you. You don’t voice any complaints, but you don’t bother to hide your discomfort, either. You fidget, you avoid eye-contact, and you don’t listen when he speaks to you.

-Fascination --Endearment +Love

When the date is over, Avery looks annoyed. He doesn’t say anything to you as he walks you to the exit, though his hand still rests on the small of your back.

You go to the manhole next. You don’t really want to, but you want that lichen. Luckily, you encounter no problems getting it. But that says nothing about what happens after.

You’re accosted by a giant lizard. If the game hadn’t told you what it was, you would have thought it was a crocodile based on its sheer size alone. It attacks you from behind, and you struggle to get it off your back. It claws at your clothing, leaving it worse for wear, but you’re able to roll over onto your back. The lizard is pinned underneath you now, but you still can’t reach it. You roll over and feel your shirt rip, exposing your back. You reach into your bag and pull out your pepper spray, aiming for the lizard’s eyes. It scurries away, leaving you panting in the sewers. You get a good workout.

You want to leave, but you still need that Lichen. 

You crawl out of the sewers and head to the tailor, who offers to fix your clothes for £29.99. You accept and head to the office building, where you work as a temp for the next few hours, fighting through the exhaustion. You make £126.

You pass out on your way home and wake up in the hospital. Dr. Harper introduces himself and asks a few questions, but you leave out any details that could cause him to ask you to go to “therapy” with him. You’re discharged soon after, and Bailey picks you up.

“Don’t make me do this again,” he says. 

When you get home, it’s already past midnight. You don’t bother putting on Pajamas, just stripping and hopping under the covers. 

… 

……

………

You should’ve worn clothes, you think to yourself as you feel Kylar’s breath on your face. He’s hard; you can feel the outline of his penis through the blanket. You try to steady your breathing, too embarrassed to open your eyes. He shifts on top of you, and then lifts your blanket from your body. You react without thinking, immediately sitting up in a panic. You just barely avoid colliding with him. Your eyes meet his, and he looks down, getting a fully unobstructed view of your breasts. He flushes deeply and scrambles away. ++Lust

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you stand up to close your window. You notice that it doesn’t have a lock.

You put on pajamas before going back to bed this time and wonder if you can find some way to board it up. You close your eyes, but rest never comes. You’re too on edge. You roll in bed for hours, never relaxing enough to fall back asleep. When you finally give up, it’s already 06:00. You remember your idea from earlier, and decide to wear your swimsuit under your uniform today.

It is the 7th of September, 2022. -It has been 3 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £454 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are fatigued Stress: You are strained Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You decide to spend some time in the garden growing daisies. It’s relaxing. By the time you finish, your hands are covered in dirt, and it’s 07:30. You wash your hands and go to Robin’s room to play video games for the next half hour.

“This one’s a cooperative game,” he says. “It’s known for being really difficult.” 

“How do I play?” You ask, taking the controller. Robin leans over, wrapping an arm behind your back and taking your hands in his as he guides your hands to the correct positioning, fingers lingering over yours for a moment longer than necessary. You feel his breath on your skin as he walks you through the controls, his head over your shoulder and his arms still wrapped around you. +Lust

The two of you play for a little bit. Neither of you are very good, but you have a good time regardless. -Stress -Trauma

You and Robin are about to walk to school together when a car pulls up beside you. You brace yourself for the worst, but the window rolls down to reveal Avery instead. “I thought I recognized you,” he says, smiling warmly. “How about I give you a lift?” He glances dismissively at Robin.”Your little friend can come along, too.” Robin looks at you, clearly nervous. 

>Ride with Avery +Robin’s jealousy >Ride with Avery and Robin +??? >Walk with Robin -Love +Lust +Rage -Robin’s jealousy

You try to smile at Robin, but it comes out strained. You hop into the car with Avery. Robin reluctantly follows your lead. You try to act naturally, bringing Robin into the conversation whenever Avery ignores him. Robin seems happy you’re paying attention to him, but still extremely out of place. -Robin’s Jealousy +Robin’s love +Avery’s love -Avery’s Fascination 

Avery leaves, and you head to the library. Sydney isn’t there, so you study by yourself until it’s time to go to Science. A group of students pass by you in the halls; they leer at you but don’t say anything. 

Science, math, and English all pass by without incident, for once. You feel yourself begin to relax as you head to the canteen, only to jump when an arm wraps around your shoulders. You turn around. It’s Whitney.

“I’m hungry,” he says. “But I don’t want anything here. Come with us to get a snack.” Your sense of control wavers. Fearful of his intentions, you shove Whitney off of you and try to run, but he grabs your arm. Delinquents pull out their phones and circle around you. You lift the arm he’s holding and swing it to the side, using the created opportunity to elbow him with your unobstructed arm. He staggers and lets go of your arm, nearly falling but just barely managing to regain his balance. You rush to the least populated area of the circle and try to push past the delinquents, but they grab you and push you back in instead. 

You reach for your pepper spray but notice your backpack has been taken from you. You glance behind you, and sure enough, a group of students are rifling around your things. You lunge for them, but they toss it to the students across from them, playing keep-away. 

Whitney is glaring at you from the other side of the ring. He rushes you, and you fail to dodge. He pushes you to the ground, his friends scattering out of reach. You headbutt him on the way down, but he’s got your arms in a tight grip. You struggle against his hold, kicking and squirming under him. Whitney sits over you, straddling your waist and holding your arms in place beside your head. His face is inches from yours, and you can feel his heavy breath on your skin. 

You try to bridge him, but he’s too heavy. You’re quickly losing strength, and Whitney can tell your struggles are becoming weaker. “Just give up,” he says. “Or I might have to do something worse.” Your sense of control weakens. He leans down over you, rubbing his penis against your stomach. You freeze, a sense of cold, numbing dread overtaking you as Whitney climbs off of you. He offers a hand to help you up, and you, briefly forgetting your situation, take it. 

He pulls you up and into his arms with surprising strength, smirking at you as your noses brush. He releases your hand but still wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you from leaving. 

“Can I have my bag back?” You ask, hopefully. Whitney looks over your shoulder at the people rifling through your things. One of them reaches for the side zipper you keep your pepper spray in, and you freeze. 

“She’s got pepper spray!” The short boy exclaims. 

“Holy shit,” a lithe girl says. 

Whitney releases you from his grip on your waist but soon grabs your arm and forces it behind you. You move your left leg around his and plant it on the ground, then you twist yourself away from him until your arm is beside you again. You plant your other foot and lift your left, kicking him in the back of his knee. He falls, but you fall with him. He lets go when you land, and you roll over off of him, quickly standing. You kick him in the groin for good measure and then walk up to the delinquent, holding your backpack and pepper spray. You hold out your hand expectantly and hands it to you stiffly. +Status

You decide to skip lunch and go to the mall instead. You pick up a keychain with a latch and attach your pepper spray to it, hooking it onto your skirt’s belt loop. It took you a while to find the right kind of keychain, and by the time you’re back on campus, it’s already 13:06. +Deliquency

You quickly head into history class, where Winter takes note of your tardiness, and sit next to Robin. He notices your ruffled hair and asks if you’re okay. You smile at him as you take your seat, but he seems unconvinced. You spend the rest of History daydreaming. 

When you get to your swimming lesson, you don’t even have to get naked. Your swimsuit is already under your uniform, so all you have to do is take them off. Your injury yesterday has healed well enough to allow you into the pool, too, so you get to improve your swimming grade. It isn’t until after the lesson is over, and you emerge from the pool, dripping wet, that you realize the fatal flaw with your underwear idea. 

You have to put clothes on over your wet swimsuit. 

Not seeing any other viable option, you put your clothes on over your wet swimsuit. The fabric clings to your body, but it does that anyway. You leave the changing room and head to detention, trying to ignore the stares of your peers as they gawk at your see-through shirt (they can’t even see anything through it, you aren’t sure what they’re staring at.).

Detention only takes ten minutes, so you’re still able to walk home with Robin. He doesn’t say anything, but you catch him taking peeks at your chest every so often. +Love +Lust +Stress

You go to the temple after changing and pick up some pink lichen for your science fair project. 

You think about the last sample of lichen you need and wonder if a £500 prize is worth being molested by ghost tentacles. You wonder if £2,000 is worth being hunted with a vengeance every blood moon.

You do need the money…

——————— 

<Prev Next>

[multifandomfanatic02]

"My Little Partner in Crime."

pairing : father!Alastor x daughter!reader

synopsis : you spent nearly 80 years by your father's side without him knowing who you truly were. Don't you think it's about time you told him the truth? Would he despise you?

warnings : weep bitches.

word count : 3,106

          It had been 76 years since she had passed. Yet she remained in the body of a 15 year old girl. In hell, of course no one aged. Not many child sinners were often found in Hell but she was special. While she wasn't an overlord, she was a brilliant mind behind one.

           In life, [Y/N] felt she had been misplaced in the world. So many terrible things had happened at such a young age. She got by though. Through learned methods and maybe a little bit of her genes had helped too.

            She was orphaned at the age of 10 years old. Father died before she was born and mama fell severely ill when she was 10. It was an unfortunate circumstance for such a young child to be in, however it only got worse from there. After both parents had died, she ended up in a very poor fostering system. In which none of the children were treated right. It was so much worse for her.

             [Y/N] was the daughter of an infamous serial killer in Louisiana. Which did not look good to potential foster parents. If her father was a fucking psychopath, what would she be like? In a way, they weren't far off in their speculations. And they proved to be right later on.

            Her mother didn't find out about the love of her life's deeds until he was pronounced dead one eventful night. Gunshot to the head in the midst of burying his own victim. Regardless of what was said about the man, she still loved him all the years after before falling to her own demise. It wasn't like he was a crazed monster, in fact, he likely saved more people than he killed. He only went after the worst of the worst.

            It was obvious that the man loved his wife more than life itself. More than his job. It saddened her knowing that he would never get to meet his daughter. Children were never planned or even talked about between the two considering sex was kind of a sensitive topic for the both of them and for different reasons. So the one time they decided to 'experiment' she ended up conceiving. Funny enough, 6 weeks later was when he died. Neither parents had knowledge of [Y/N] presence yet.

          [Y/N] was scorned throughout the entirety of her foster community. Not for anything she did, no no. But for something her father did. No one wanted her. Regardless, she was happy that she was on her own in a way. Her 4 years in foster care were quite peaceful.

            It wasn't until she was 14 that she had been finally picked out of the system. An old man, maybe in his fifties, had come to get her. The fostering system, not wanting her to continue her stay any longer, kept their dealings with him under wraps so everything stayed out of legal documents.  [Y/N] wasn't adopted, no, she was to become his wife and to bear several of his children. Figures. What else would a man like him want in a child. Women were still known as the caretakers at the time. Nobody in this day and age was evolved like her father whom treated her mother like a queen when they were alive.

            Thankfully it never got too bad before she decided to take her fate into her own hands. She was an avid reader. Her favorite things to read were the medical books found in her room when she was in the system. So she eventually learned a thing or two. It started off with a crushed pill in his drink every morning to stave off his libido. So he was never in the mood to touch her. (Don't ask where she gets the medication, it's a secret.)

               Wearing him down slowly every day and night for the next year before his untimely death. An insulin overdose. It'd be like he died in his sleep. During an autopsy, no one would even know. She grinned ear to ear, feeling the man's pulse disappear from his neck. She took a breath before calling 911 in a faked panic tone. Convincing actually. "Hello? I n-need help. My husband isn't b-breathing, I think he may be dead. Please come save him! He can't die! I love him!" She managed to force tears from her eyes.

             Ultimately, he did indeed pass away and she was finally on her own. I guess it wasn't a totally bad set up since his property, belongings, and money went to [Y/N]. It was short lived, unfortunately. All that money that went to ballrooms and jazz music. It was paradise and worth every penny she thought. Only to die at the age of 15 from an infected fox bite. (Random, right? Just like dad's lol)

           [Y/N] had been in Hell for 76 years. She wasn't well known unlike her companion. Sticking to the man like glue after all this time. She worked well with the Radio Demon. Their minds complemented each other very well. Almost to a point of familiarity. When she first arrived in Hell, it was like she had made a big boom in the talk of the town. She was a mastermind and very talented at killing and pranks. It sparked a lot of the overlords' interest, especially since she wasn't interested in becoming an overlord herself. All she wanted was to enjoy her dark and very humorous afterlife. [Y/N] of course declined all their business proposals, even the famous Vox.

             There was one she couldn't turn away from. He was charming and the two immediately had an unbreakable connection. The connection itself was unreadable but it was there nonetheless. He made a deal with her, promising absolute protection from the exterminators and other overlords and in turn she would help with his dealings. It was a fair trade, the Radio Demon was a bit impulsive with his actions while [Y/N] methodically planned all her own dealings 30 steps ahead. And with her being 15, well, she was thought to be an easy target.

              It was actually strange, they look alike too. The same color scheme, same nose and eyes. Both shared that constant shit-eating grin and composure. The only difference between them being that he's an elk demon while she, a fox demon. It was literally just the tail, antlers, and hairstyle that set them apart.

               Overtime, the radio demon, opened up to her piece by piece. Alastor, that was his name. It didn't take to long for her to come to the realization that he was in fact her beloved father that her mom talked about oh so much. It was clear. It wasn't just their appearance but mannerisms that were so similar. Her name being the same as his mothers surely didn't help either. He thought nothing of it. Alastor didn't know, he was too oblivious to anything that wasn't himself. And up to now, it never felt like the right time to tell him, so it's been a secret.

            Turns out she wasn't the only one to have this realization. Carmilla Carmine along with many other overlords figured it out before even she. Carmilla being a mother herself felt empathy for her and talked to her whenever she needed it. Rosie found a deep love for [Y/N] herself, acting as a mother figure as well. The little darling was just like her bestie, Alastor, how could she not? Other overlords weren't as reasonable and often threatened to use the knowledge as a weapon against her. What would Alastor think? Did he ever want a child? Would he stray away from her if he found out? Often enough, the overlords who threatened her ended up without their lives by her hands by the end of the day.

         Seventy-six years, Alastor had kept [Y/N] by his side every step he took. It wasn't until his powerful fight with Vox that he decided to step away. He disappeared for 7 years without notice. It broke her heart into a million pieces but just like before in life, she marched on and kept her promise to him.

           It wasn't until news arrived in Pentagon city about this Hazbin Hotel that she'd heard Alastor's name after so long. He was working as the host of the hotel. It wasn't often [Y/N] showed emotion but this time she couldn't hold it in, tears streamed down her face. Her sturdy smile began to slowly break apart. It seemed her father was her weakness. While he didn't want to admit it, it was mutual. He left without saying a word to avoid seeing her disappointment in those little eyes of hers. He didn't want her see him so weak. In a way, he subconsciously felt he had some kind of responsibility over her.

            The walk to the hotel was nerve-wracking for [Y/N]. Seeing him after all this time felt bittersweet. She was excited of course but she was awfully upset about his random disappearance.

Knock, knock, knock

        The Princess of Hell had opened the door, to her surprise to see a red and black fox demon with a huge smile on her face. Charlie was suddenly having a flash of deja vu. Where else has she seen this before? In any case, it wasn't the most obvious thing to pop out at her. This girl was a child. There shouldn't be a child in Hell, whose cruel idea was it to send her down here Charlie thought.

          "Princess Charlotte, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is [Y/N]." She bent down pulling her dress between her fingers to greet her.

           "Just call me Charlie! It's nice to meet you too! Are you here to stay in the hotel? If so we would love to have you here with us. Especially someone as cute as you." Charlie reached out to pinch the young demon's cheeks before composing herself.

           "I actually am, among other things. I was hoping I could be of service to you." Charlie sat questioning her proposal for a second.

             "I'll gladly accept any help I can get but love, you are a child, don't you want to focus on going to heaven and get out of this place?" Charlie bent down to her level and took the girl's hands in her own.

              "Don't let her age fool you, my dear. She is a very capable demon. In fact, better than most overlords I know." The familiar radio static voice tickled [Y/N] ears as Alastor materialized behind Charlie. He smiled genuinely as he held out his arms, waiting for her embrace. Tears suddenly streamed down as she ran into his arms. The two holding onto each other as if one of them would disappear forever.

               "I apologize for my sudden departure, darling. I hope you know that I would never leave you willingly. It was the only way I could keep my side of the deal." He stroked her hair in attempt to calm her sobbing. She couldn't say anything, she had already forgiven him a while back. Alastor couldn't do anything to make her hate him.

               "Alastor aren't you going to introduce us? Who's this sweet thing?" Angel dust walked to the doors to join him and Charlie. The rest of the sinners in the lobby following suit.

              "I guess you could say she is my partner in crime. This little darling has been by my side for nearly 80 years. I owe a lot of my victories to her truth be told." Everyone stood around confused, expecting a different answer. There's absolutely no way she could JUST be his partner they look too much ali-

             "Al, is that.. is that all she is?" [Y/N] sent vaggie daggering eyes as a warning not to continue her statement. Getting the hint, Vaggie backed off and went to sit on the couch in the center of the room. "Nevermind, forget I said anything."   

              "Hey [Y/N], it's been a few months. How you holding up. Still getting into trouble I hear." Husk gives the fox demon some pats on the head.

               "It's nice to see you again Husker, I would like to thank you for looking out for me these past few years." Her grin grew looking up at the fluffy demon.

             "Just doing what the boss told me." Alastor often had souls he was contracted with look after her in his absence. There wasn't much he could do, but knowing she was safe and sound and thriving eased his cold heart. It wasn't often he found himself tied to someone. But there he was, worried for the safety of someone else. A child no less. It took a while to understand his feelings but he eventually did accept it. He cared about someone other than himself.

               Introductions to the residents went smoothly, all of them having such lively personalities she thought. What an amazing new family to have. Besides missing Mama, this was much better than what she had in life ironic as it is.

           The times were changing and everything felt still, peaceful. [Y/N] had an amazing new family and business. Angel Dust being like an amazing big brother and Charlie like an amazing older sister. However the biggest change was how close she got to Alastor. He insisted her bedroom be near his radio tower so he could watch over her. It was so out of character for the residents that have only known him since he joined the hotel staff.

              She was back to being glued to his hip. Her charm helping to gain more residents with her adorableness. It brought on a whole lot of business deals for the feared radio demon as well. Everything was perfect. Something still weighed on [Y/N]'s heart. Alastor needed to know the truth. Why the two of them have such a strong connection. And why they can't seem to ever let each other go. It's not something easily brought up in conversation. Thankfully, luck was on her side one day during one of their business outings.

           "So.. do we have a deal?" Alastor held his hand out to damaged overlord. The enemy's eyes flickered over to the fox demon, causing a distraction. Long enough for his partner to sneak a gun to the young girl's temple. Her composure stabled, a smile creeping on her face.

            "Before I agree to this deal, you are going to hear me out. Or my partner here will end the little girl's life. And you'll be pickingup brain matter off the ground." Alastor's eye twitched, returning his hands to the top of his cane. His expression eased back into his typical smile, seeing her unfazed by the imminent threat.

         "Fine. What do you want?" The man smiled seeing Alastor accept his conditions.

           "[Y/N]. I want the girl." The Radio Demon's breath hitched in his throat upon hearing the request. Never. Never in a million years, he thought. "You see that BITCH had me killed. Secretly drugging me for a year. Didn't think I would have noticed, huh? She never payed for it, she never had to answerfor her crime. Got her out of that shithole of a foster care and this is what I get?"

            He forcibly grabbed the collar of her prim and proper dress, picking her up to his face. Her ears folded to the back of her head, scowling at the man now. "You were going to make me a child bride."

         "You are a woman. You do what I say. If you don't accept my proposal, I'll tell daddy here your little secret. Won't he be surprised." Her eyes turned red at his words, both her and Alastor, in his demon form, shoving an arm through the man's chest in unison. All he felt in that moment was fear, dying for a second time.

            It took a second for the man's words to process in Alastor's head. Secret? What secret? He didn't want to pry but it was obviously tearing [Y/N] up inside. Her expression said it all. All he wanted was to know she was okay. It was time to let him know. And whatever decision he made, she was going to be okay with.

           "There's something I need to tell you."

           "Darling, you don't have to tell me anything if you are not comfortable. That fuck was just trying to get under your skin." And it worked.

             "No. You need to know." [Y/N]'s lip began to quiver in fear. Scared she was suddenly going to be a disappointment. How could she keep this a secret for so long. He had the right to know. Now. "My name is [first name] [Shared last name]. I..  I am your daughter."

                The gears in his head turned as he tried to process the new information. When something suddenly clicked in his head. The love of his life just before he died, was constantly sick and had been for a few weeks. Alastor had just thought she had a cold and constantly doted on her, trying to provide the best medicine he could.. hm.. find. She never took it thankfully. She was pregnant.

           He hadn't thought about it before now but it has come to his attention that the reason why he cared for this child so much was because she reminded him of his wife. She was careful with every decision, she was always calm in every situation she's been in, and they both had that beautiful fire in their eyes. The fire that let everyone know that they weren't going to submit to nobody. The dynamic between him and his wife wasn't much different from the dynamic between him and his daughter.

              Why hadn't Alastor seen it before. [Y/N] was obviously named after his mother. The girl was literally his mini me. He couldn't help but let a tear or two drop from his eyes before bending his knees to look at her at her level.

            "Tell me... what uh. What happened to your mother?" Alastor held the girl's cheek in his hand caressing it gently and wiping away her own tears, slightly smearing the blood on his hand.

             "Mama died of the influenza virus when I was 10. I'm sure she's in Heaven, having the time of her life." Alastor pulled his daughter into a tight embrace, never wanting to let go.

            "After all this time, I've had a precious piece of her with me. And I won't ever leave you alone again."

A/N: Yall let me know if you liked this concept, this was fun to do. I know it's kind of out of character for Alastor but I hope it healed something in y'all with daddy issues 🙏

[f1shart]

thinking about buzz beating up the curious brothers again. like what do you mean

but buzz is older than them?? time to dissect this (and by that i mean overly complicate it!!)

Making Sense of Buzz Grunt Beating the Shit Out of the Curious Brothers (and Loki)

I went into this assuming that, considering how old Buzz is, him beating up the Curious brothers + Loki as a teenager was statistically impossible, especially considering their age in actual human years—but was I wrong? Is it actually possible that Buzz did fight them within the time he spent as a teenager?

First, some supporting information.

Age Conversions Based on Adult Lifestage

Buzz: Day 14 or 43 years old Pascal: Day 10 or 38 years old Loki: Day 9 or 36 years old Vidcund: Day 6 or 32 years old Lazlo: Day 1 or 25 years old

These aren't even my own age headcanons for them (except Buzz's which is surprisingly accurate), just calculations. If you want to know how I got them then feel free to ask 😇

Evidence Provided by Memories

As seen in the picture, Buzz fought everyone "as soon as he aged up." However, it's possible he just has no memories of early teenhood.

Pascal similarly gained the memory as soon as he aged up. This idea is more plausible with him because he was accepted into private high school after the fact. Sure, in gameplay, this can happen as late as the last day as a teenager, but I doubt this is what Maxis was trying to convey since they literally handpicked these memories. Meaning: Buzz beat him up in middle school…?

Loki's only teen memory is losing the fight.

According to the Sims Wiki, Vidcund has no memory of Buzz beating him up (how hard did he hit him?)

Similar to Loki and Pascal, Lazlo's first memory as a teenager is getting beat up by Buzz.

Is This Possible In Normal Gameplay?

Disregarding any other family memories that arose around the time (I do NOT want to try to decipher the entire Curious timeline), the fight memories are in fact possible with their Sim ages.

The teen lifespan in The Sims 2 is 15 days long. Buzz is 4 days older than Pascal, 5 days older than Loki, 8 days older than Vidcund, and 13 days older than Lazlo.

Ensuring that everyone still falls within the teen lifestage, I made a table of the earliest and latest possible ages everyone could have been when Buzz attacked:

Converting their teen days into human years, Buzz either beat them all up as an 18 year old OR slowly picked them off until age 17 which is right before he kissed Lyla. None of this, however, is possible based on the initial age calculations.

Buzz's Attacks Based On the Adult Age Conversions

Buzz is 5 years older than Pascal, 7 years older than Loki, 11 years older than Vidcund, and 18 years older than Lazlo. There are two ways we can interpret their memories: either the Curious brothers + Loki were teenagers when Buzz attacked, or Buzz was a teenager when he started attacking them.

On the basis that Buzz is still a teenager, and assuming each fight happened in close proximity to one another, he specifically had to have been 18 years old when each one happened. This makes Pascal a 13 year old, Loki an 11 year old, Vidcund a 7 year old, and Lazlo…a newborn. ☠️ Alternatively, Buzz may have started younger and continued fighting until 18, the only teen year he could have possibly encountered Lazlo in.

If that seems implausible, then maybe Buzz wasn't a teenager and instead beat the boys up as soon as they turned thirteen. This would make him 18 for Pascal, 20 for Loki, 24 for Vidcund, and 31 for Lazlo. (Side note: Tank and Ripp would have been born by then.)

Conclusion

Regardless of whether you base it on Buzz been a teen or the victims being teens, him beating up Lazlo looks pretty bad. And if you go by gameplay rules, everything flows surprisingly well. According to normal gameplay AND real-life age conversions, Buzz is a big meanie who beat up at least one kid as a legal adult, at least with the age conversion system I used…

Me personally, I think he was college-aged when he started bullying them. (Or maybe they attacked him? Plot twist.) Of course, what I discussed weren't the only possibilities, but they should give a good idea of how things actually went… and maybe they can inspire your own headcanons! ^_^

this is such a useless pseudo-essay LMFAOO

[jayflrt]

a stoner’s guide to starbucks

PAIRING ▸ lee heeseung x fem!reader (ft. enha, winter from aespa, beomgyu from txt, and dino from svt)

GENRES ▸ social media au (smau), crack, fluff, stoner au, strangers to lovers

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sexual jokes, zero braincells, limited knowledge of the starbucks corporation, weed consumption, dumb shenanigans, ignore timestamps!

SUMMARY ▸ in which you work at the starbucks where heeseung is a regular at (and considered a public enemy). also he only goes when he’s stoned off his ass.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! i am alive (real) also i was so committed to the bit that i got high to make this <3 shoutout @hoonbear for the Extensive Starbucks Knowledge 🫡 i would also like to note that i am NOT doing a tag list for this smau. also please note that this is a fictional setting and to boycott starbucks in real life for firing their workers over their pro palestine speech. remember to do your daily click!

INCOMING MESSAGES !

TEASER

PROFILES ONE | TWO

01. weed guy beomgyu

02. red bitch with the freckles rizz

03. starbucks public enemy #1

04. 50% cut ???

05. lee heeseung: upstanding citizen, NOT murderer

06. clearing up misunderstandings with an aqi under 50

07. chat is this real

08. daddy’s home 2

09. biodegrade ur chance at romance

10. triple filtered reverse osmosis water filtration system

11. losing the idgaf war

12. crazy gets u bitches

13. banned in the name of love

14. riki s worded irl??

15. 8ball brings nations together

16. killing myself postponed tonight repostponed

17. scheming sponsored by crazy bitch 62 and unimportant goon

18. the do-over date to end all first dates

19. seek BetterHelp.com

20. quarterly store meeting (remote)

21. WHAT ARE WE

22. heejake support group for heejake victims

23. bro fumbled the unfumbleable

24. sunghoon is the new Papa John

25. according to penal code 837 🤓☝️

26. jungwon pulls bitches (the duolingo owl) too

27. someone PLEASE take jungwon to see the teenage mutant ninja turtles movie

28. 14th date’s the charm

29. doc mcuggo

30. nothing to write home about

31. LONDON I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL I LOST MY QUEEN TOO

32. starbucks double chocolate brownies

33. having a kid together before dating is next level

34. tweaking out on 5 hour energy

35. 7.83 inches

36. The Milk Makes The Man, And The Man Makes The Milk

37. sunghoon from papa john's from starbucks

38. then who's flying the plane???

39. league of legends quarantine ex girlfriend

40. WELCOME HOME CHEATER 😐

41. unknown evil forces (chaewon)

42. friends to rivaling coffee shop employees au

43. do NOT get the weed frap

44. now on channel 9 news

45. choose your fighter heeseung tit variation

46. kitten i'll be honest, daddy's about to kill himself

47. a fire can be put out but missing a bereal is forever

48. baby's first customer connection score

49. #STARBUCKS_FIRST_WIN

50. epilogue

UNCUTS !

weekly weed check 🗣️

SUNGHOONXJLAW

happy weedsgiving

minjake texts

the Sunghoon Special

goons vs baby shark movie

COMPLETED 12/1/23

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Trump’s CFPB kills data-broker rule

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in PITTSBURGH TONIGHT (May 15) at WHITE WHALE BOOKS, and in PDX on Jun 20 at BARNES AND NOBLE with BUNNIE HUANG. More tour dates (London, Manchester) here.

Something amazing happened from 2020-2024: even as parts of the Biden administration were encouraging genocide and covering up the president's senescence, a small collection of little-regarded agencies were taking a wrecking ball to corporate power, approaching antitrust and consumer protection with a vigor not seen in generations.

One of the most effective agencies during those years was the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau. Under the direction of Rohit Chopra, the CFPB finally used its long-dormant powers to rein in the most egregious and abusive conduct of America's most predatory corporations, like banks, fintech, and repeat corporate offenders, with a 7-2 Supreme Court mandate to go hard:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/10/getting-things-done/#deliverism

As impressive as the whole CFPB agenda was, the standout for me was its attack on America's data brokerage industry. Data brokers are effectively totally unregulated, and they buy and sell every intimate fact of your life. The reason every device in your life – smart speaker, car, toothbrush, thermostate – spies on you all the time is because data brokers will buy any data from anyone and sell it to anyone, too.

Data brokerages put "surveillance capitalist" companies like Google and Meta to shame (indeed, Big Tech buys a lot of data from brokerages, as do agencies like the DEA, ICE and the FBI, who treat the brokerages as a warrant-free, off-the-books mass surveillance system). Data brokerages combine data about your movements, purchases, friends, medical problems, education, love life, and more, and bucket you into categories that marketers (or scammers) can buy access to. There are over 650,000 of these categories, including "seniors with dementia," "depressed teenagers" and "US military personnel with gambling problems":

https://themarkup.org/privacy/2023/06/08/from-heavy-purchasers-of-pregnancy-tests-to-the-depression-prone-we-found-650000-ways-advertisers-label-you

Congress hasn't passed a new consumer privacy law since 1988's Video Privacy Protection Act. The last technological privacy issue your legislature considered important enough to address was the scourge of video-store clerks telling newspapers which VHS cassettes you took home:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/06/privacy-first/#but-not-just-privacy

Congress's massive failure created equally massive risks for the rest of us. From phishing and ransomware attacks to identity theft to stalking and SWATting, America's privacy nihilism enabled mass-scale predation upon all of us, rich and poor, old and young, rural and urban, men and women, racialized and white.

That's the void that the CFPB stepped into last summer, when they passed a new rule that would effectively shut down the entire data brokerage industry:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/16/the-second-best-time-is-now/#the-point-of-a-system-is-what-it-does

Yesterday, Trump's CFPB boss, Russell Vought, killed that rule, stating that it was "no longer necessary or appropriate":

https://www.wired.com/story/cfpb-quietly-kills-rule-to-shield-americans-from-data-brokers/

Here's the thing: Trumpism relies on the fusion of two groups of people: a tiny number of oligarchs, and millions of everyday people who are constantly victimized by those oligarchs. To get this latter group of Christmas-voting turkeys to stay in the coalition, Trump needs to delivery something that keeps them happy. Mostly, Trump delivers negative things to keep them happy – the spectacle of public cruelty to immigrants, women, trans people, academics, etc. There is a certain libidinal satisfaction that comes from watching your enemies suffer – but you can't eat schadenfreude. You can't make rent or put braces on your kids' teeth or pay your medical bills with the sadistic happiness you feel when you hear the sobs of people you've been taught to despise.

For Trump to keep the turkeys voting for Christmas, he needs to do something for them. He can't just do things to scapegoats. But America's eminently guillotineable oligarchs have found so many ways to turn working peoples' torment into riches, and they are so greedy and unwilling to give up any of those grifts, that Trump can't manage to deliver anything positive to his base. Last week, his FTC killed the "click to cancel" rule that required companies that tricked you into buying subscriptions to make it easy for you to cancel them:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/05/12/greased-slide/#greased-pole

There isn't a single person in the Trump base who isn't harmed by data brokers. Every red-hat-wearing MAGA footsoldier has been swindled with a recurring-payment scam by clicking a deceptive link. The material conditions of the lives of Trump's base – already in severe jeopardy thanks to the massive inflation the tariffs will cause, and the plummeting wages that the ensuing mass business-closures will bring about – cannot be improved in any way.

I don't think anyone knows for sure how much support Trump can win solely by torturing the people his supporters hate, even as those supporters' lives get worse and worse. The one thing I'm sure of, though, is that it's less support than Trump would get if he could do something – anything – to make their lives even a little better.

Trump owes his success to coalition-building. The Trumpist agenda – ripoffs and racism and rape – has been around forever, in festering pockets like the John Birch Society, but those feverish monsters were encysted by the body politic and kept away from power. When a group of people who've been unsuccessfully trying to do something for a long time suddenly attain success, the most likely explanation is that they have found coalition partners to join them in their push.

Every coalition is brittle, because coalition partners want different things (if you want the same thing, you're just a group – "coalitions" are, definitionally, made up of people who want different things). They have shared goals, sure, but some of the things that some of the coalition partners want are things that the other partners totally reject. When one partner wins, the other partners lose. Trump's been good at holding together his coalition, but he's running up against some hard limits.

Here's what Naomi Klein told Cerise Castle from Capital & Main/The American Prospect:

The most serious vulnerability that Trump has is that a large part of his base really hates Silicon Valley and is not interested in being replaced by machines. So it’s a monumental bait-and-switch that Trump has done with this immediate alignment with the billionaire class in Silicon Valley, and if the left can’t exploit that, then we’re doing something wrong.

https://prospect.org/culture/2025-05-13-moment-of-unparalleled-peril-interview-naomi-klein/

Killing the CFPB's data broker rule is a pure transfer from the Trump base to Silicon Valley oligarchs, whose hunger for our private data know no bounds.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2025/05/15/asshole-to-appetite/#ssn-for-sale

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[etz-ashashiyot]

The thing is that there is nothing Jews can do to stop antisemitism, just like there is nothing a victim can do to stop the abuse or a bullied child can do to stop the bully or any other minority can do to stop bigotry against them. We cannot control anyone else's behavior or attitudes towards us. The only thing we can do is to take reasonable steps to protect ourselves, whether those are institutional, by taking reasonable precautions to avoid dangerous people and places as much as possible, and to fight back when it is not.

But even if we batten the hatches, put up hardcore security systems at our institutions and events, remove as many visible cultural symbols as possible, don't stay out late at night or walk alone on Shabbos, even if every building has a bomb shelter and locked doors and every Jewish leader receives active shooter and counterterrorism training, even if we put armed guards at the entrances of every shul and JCC and Jewish day school and retirement home and Holocaust museum, even if we build our own country and army or alternatively reject that country vehemently, even if we are as nice as possible to everyone we meet and give tzedakah and commit to every progressive cause and stand in solidarity with every other minority, even if we demonstrate that we are just like them and/or that we are willing to just totally do our own thing, even if we give and give and give and give some more—

We can't make them hate us less or try to harm us less.

All we can do is mitigate the harm by avoiding what we can and defending ourselves against what we can't, and refusing to give up who we are in the process.

We can't make you be better people. That is what I have learned over the last 10 months.

[blackstarlineage]

Types of Black People to Avoid From a Garveyite Perspective

Marcus Garvey’s teachings emphasize Pan-Africanism, self-reliance, and pride in African heritage. From his perspective, certain mindsets and behaviours among Black people hinder the collective progress of the race. This post outlines the types of individuals Garvey warned against and why their actions conflict with his philosophy.

1. The Self-Hating Negro

Those who lack pride in their African identity or seek to align with oppressive systems instead of embracing their heritage.

2. The Betrayer or Opportunist

People who align with colonial or imperial powers for personal gain, selling out their community in the process.

3. The Idle and Unproductive

Garvey emphasized hard work and self-reliance. Those who perpetuate laziness or refuse to contribute to the community weaken.

4. The Divisive

Individuals who sow discord or prioritize personal grievances over unity.

5. The Apologist for Oppression

Those who excuse or justify racism, colonialism, or exploitation instead of resisting it.

6. The Lackey or "House Negro"

People who serve as tools of oppression within the Black community, often working to uphold systems of exploitation.

7. The Disconnected

Those who neglect the struggles of their brothers and sisters across the African diaspora.

8. The Cynic or Defeatist

Individuals who spread hopelessness and believe liberation is impossible, stifling collective progress.

9. The Assimilationist

Those who reject African culture to assimilate into white-dominated societies, often seeking validation from oppressors.

10. The Colonial-Minded Intellectual

Educated individuals who use their knowledge to support colonial ideologies rather than fight for Black liberation.

11. The Non-Believer in Black Institutions

People who doubt the ability of Black people to build and sustain their own schools, businesses, and organizations.

12. The Religious Misleader

Religious figures who preach passivity and submission rather than encouraging active resistance and empowerment.

13. The Consumer Over Creator

Those who consume from exploitative systems but fail to support Black-owned businesses or initiatives.

14. The Envy-Driven

Individuals who sabotage others out of jealousy rather than celebrate their success as a win for the community.

15. The Perpetual Victim

Garvey believed in resilience and empowerment, not adopting a victim mindset that leads to inaction.

16. The Uninformed or Ignorant

People who refuse to educate themselves on African history, culture, or the realities of systemic oppression.

17. The Political Sellout

Politicians or leaders who prioritize personal power over the well-being of their people.

18. The Violent Toward Their Own

Garvey emphasized unity. Those who harm or exploit their own people weaken the community.

19. The Materialistic

Individuals who prioritize wealth and status over collective liberation.

20. The Fearful or Complacent

Those who fear challenging systems of oppression or accept the status quo.

21. The "Divide and Conquer" Advocate

People who promote tribalism, colourism, or internal divisions that undermine unity.

22. The Global Isolationist

Garvey believed in global solidarity. Ignoring the struggles of Africans worldwide weakens the movement.

23. The Culturally Oblivious

Individuals who neglect the preservation of African culture, language, and traditions.

24. The Misguided Activist

Those who harm liberation movements through counterproductive or extreme methods.

25. The Short-Term Thinker

People who focus on immediate gains without considering the long-term impact on future generations.

26. The Hypercritical Without Action

Critics who offer no solutions or refuse to contribute to progress.

27. The Neglectful Parent

Parents who fail to instill pride, education, and self-reliance in their children.

28. The Exploiter or Disrespecter of Black Women

Garvey emphasized the importance of both men and women in building a strong and self-reliant community. Those who exploit or disrespect Black women cause deep harm to the entire movement.

29. The Perpetrator and Promoter of Negative Stereotypes of Black Men and Women

Those who perpetuate negative stereotypes harm the collective image and self-esteem of Black people.

Examples of Harmful Stereotypes:

Stereotypes About Black Men: Promoting images of Black men as inherently violent, hypersexual, lazy, or criminal. These narratives contribute to societal discrimination and the dehumanization of Black men.

Stereotypes About Black Women: Reinforcing depictions of Black women as angry, overbearing, promiscuous, or unworthy of respect. These stereotypes undermine the dignity of Black women and lead to real-world harm.

Why This Conflicts with Garveyism:

Garvey called for the upliftment of the entire race, which includes challenging racist caricatures and media portrayals. Promoting stereotypes reinforces systemic oppression, fosters self-hatred, and fractures community unity.

"We must canonize our own heroes, create our own martyrs, and glorify our own symbols," Garvey said, urging Black people to celebrate their greatness instead of internalizing harmful narratives.

30. The Doubter of Pan-Africanism

Rejecting the idea of a unified global African identity weakens collective strength.

31. The Glorifier of Interracial Relationships Over Their Own Race

Individuals who prioritize dating outside their race, often due to internalized racism or disdain for their own community, undermine racial solidarity and family structures.

32. The Denier of African Heritage

Those who reject their African roots or refuse to identify as part of the African diaspora, fostering division and rejecting the foundation of Pan-Africanism.

33. The Disrespecter of Black Men and Boys

Individuals who belittle, demean, or fail to support Black men and boys contribute to the weakening of the community.

34. The Uninformed or Ignorant

Garvey strongly believed in education and the power of knowledge. Black people who remain ignorant about their history, culture, and the systems that oppress them harm the movement.

Why This Conflicts with Garveyism:

Ignorance weakens collective strength by promoting misunderstanding, inaction, and misplaced priorities. Education is a tool for liberation, and those who refuse to seek knowledge risk falling prey to manipulation and exploitation.

35. The Believer in Pseudo Subjects and History

Garvey valued accurate knowledge and warned against false ideologies or distorted versions of history.

Examples of Pseudo Subjects:

False Histories: Believing in fabricated or distorted versions of African history that lack historical evidence.

Pseudo-Sciences: Embracing unscientific or baseless theories about health, biology, or spirituality.

Why This Conflicts with Garveyism:

Pseudo subjects distract from the real work of liberation, confuse the community, and undermine credibility. Garvey’s philosophy calls for rooting oneself in truth and using knowledge as a foundation for empowerment

In Garvey's Words:

"A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin, and culture is like a tree without roots."

Garvey’s philosophy urges us to avoid behaviors and attitudes that undermine the pride, unity, and collective progress of Black people globally. Embracing our heritage, building strong communities, and fostering solidarity across the diaspora are key to liberation.