#i have no real preference for either outcome

[ddarker-dreams]

A Deal's a Deal.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, violence against minor characters, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of alcohol. Word count: 5k.

Next

“... Sorry. This one’s no good either.” 

Sighing dejectedly, you sink into your seat. 

You can’t tell if your companion’s disappointed. He maintains a neutral countenance, betraying nothing of his inner thoughts. Still, you study him, awaiting some visual indication before moving the conversation forward. He must sense your intentions, for he catches your gaze and smiles. 

“Should we call it a day? You look tired.” 

“The hell? Isn’t it considered taboo to tell a lady she looks tired?” You grumble. “And here I thought you were Casanova incarnate. You’ve got to work on your charisma stats.” 

Chrollo shrugs halfheartedly. “What point is there if you’re immune to my many charms?” 

“Let’s be real — ‘many’ is overdoing it, a little humility won’t hurt. I commend your budding self-awareness, though. At least we’ve made progress on that front.” 

He hums, offering no rebuttal. You realize that you’ve perked back up, reinvigorated by his goading. He certainly knows how to get people going. Among his defining features, that’s one of the first you recognized; his uncanny way of orchestrating favorable outcomes. 

Sipping your preferred warm beverage, you canvass your surroundings. 

The café’s less crowded than when you came in. There are still a few students typing away on their laptops while consuming a concerning amount of caffeine. In the corner sits an elderly couple, whose order you overheard by virtue of the volume it was placed at — “Give me a regular coffee. Straight black, none of that ‘appaccino, grand venti’ nonsense. Decaf for my wife.” 

(You prayed for the barista’s sanity when he tried explaining the different ways ‘straight black’ could come). 

“... I am losing my touch, aren’t I?” Chrollo murmurs. You snap your head in his direction, having temporarily forgotten his existence. “You prefer older men?” 

You almost choke mid-sip. “Pleh…! That’s it, I’m retiring, good luck sorting your issues out.”

“You don’t mean that.” 

“How I wish you were wrong,” you deadpan. Lifting his phone off the table, you scroll through its contents. There’s nothing new to look at. “An exorcist, huh? You’re positive that’s a real thing?” 

“They exist. They’re just rare, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” 

“I blame the Protestant Reformation.” 

The skin beneath his eyes wrinkles. “... Cute.”  

His compliment makes you frown. 

“Quit it with the flattery, already.” 

“Flattery implies a degree of insincerity, no?” He challenges. “You of all people should know when I’m being genuine.” 

“You make it sound like I’m a walking polygraph.” 

His lips part and close as he considers his response. “That isn’t how I view you.” 

This guy’s clever with his word choice, you think. Too clever.

Disliking where this conversation might go, you redirect. 

“This ‘Hunter’ site you’ve been using… is there any way for me to access it?”

“Feeling a bit impatient, are we?” 

There’s a patronizing lilt to this tone that has you inhaling sharply. Closing your eyes, you ball your hands into fists, willing your agitated mind to relax. Your goal feels so close. This future you never believed possible dangles above your head, only to recede as if you were Tantalus whenever you grasp for it. Needling Chrollo won’t get you any closer, but at least it gives you something to do, mimicking progress. 

“The Hunter site has various measures in place to prevent account sharing. You don’t want to end up on their radar,” Chrollo retrieves his phone and tucks it into his coat’s pocket. “While your enthusiasm’s admirable, I suggest you leave this part to me.”

You swallow thickly. “... Right.” 

“Are you upset?” 

“No, I’m not,” you rest your hands on your lap. “Just, y’know. Reminded that we’re from two different worlds.” 

Outside the café’s windows, individuals from all walks of life bustle about. Some are on their phones, others chatting with friends, or holding their partner’s hands. It’s a picturesque display of normalcy. They’re likely thinking about what to have for dinner, when to set their alarm for the following day, if they can squeeze out of plans they halfheartedly agreed to over the weekend; you know this because you aspire to live the same way. 

“You’re closer to mine than you think.” 

A fervent disagreement blazes then turns to ash on your tongue. There’s an unidentifiable quality to his stare — neither kind nor outright malicious — almost clinical in its effort to elicit a reaction. You stir in your seat. Despite your time together, he’s as much an enigma as he’d been upon your first meeting. Charming and courteous, yet lacking genuine warmth, like a faux candle. 

“Do you get some kick out of riling me up?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “Your expressive nature is endearing. I can’t help myself.” 

His words resonate with such clarity that you can’t help but wish he’d been a little dishonest. 

“I’m not a toy for you to entertain yourself with.” 

His smile makes you squirm. 

“I know you aren’t.” 

“Then what—” you cut yourself off, fearing what might occur if you continue your original line of questioning. “Man, you’re exhausting to deal with. Has anyone ever told you that you have an awful personality?” 

“Few get to be around me enough to comment on its quality.” 

“I’m counting down the days until I’m no longer a member of that inner circle.” 

Before Chrollo can respond, his phone audibly vibrates. Newfound excitement overwhelms you at the sound. He glances at the notification and nods, confirming your speculation. He places it in your eager hands. While you prepare, he steeples his fingers and leans forward, intrigued as always with your work. 

You relax your breathing. This entire process is based on intuition, chasing after faint sensations until your desired outcome manifests. A pliable force thrums through you — what Chrollo refers to as ‘aura’ — awakening from its dormant state. Mindful of your public surroundings, you keep your dominant hand beneath the table. Where there was once nothing, a three-dimensional object rests snugly against your palm. Buttons of varying utility jut outward along its perimeter. This small item, shaped like a cassette recorder, stirs antipathy in your heart. 

Holding down rewind, the cassette whirrs to life. You prepare to record the latest audio note sent in for analysis. 

Instant Replay (One More Time!).

These past few months have seen your ability frequently leveraged. It was your personal conviction to refuse its use, lest paranoia eat away at you. However, freedom from this bondage necessitates further entanglement. You’ve parted with your long-standing morals, primed to pick through the syllables of others for your own purposes. 

Right and wrong no longer concern you. 

All you care about is surrendering this loathsome ability to the man sitting across the table. 

-

The night air is unforgiving in its chill. It infiltrates your layers of clothing with laughable ease, seeping into your marrow and demanding that you shiver as recompense. Gritting your teeth, you pick up your pace, cursing the parking garage’s elevator for being out of order. You knew parking at your friend’s apartment complex was sparse, but this is a new record. 

The heels of your shoes click against the concrete staircase as you rapidly ascend. A pale, yellowish hue illuminates your path, the lights occasionally flickering. The moon must be feeling shy tonight, for it hides behind thick, stationary clouds, refusing the world its silvery guidance.

Upon arriving on the third floor, you hear an ominous crackle in the distance. 

The consequences are immediate. Intuition tells you to pause, goosebumps erupting over your flesh from head to toe. Darkness swallows your surroundings whole in inky blots. Blinking rapidly, your eyes struggle to adjust. You feel around for your phone and turn the flashlight on. The sudden loss of power perplexes you, did the building’s breaker trip? From what you can see, the rest of the street is unaffected. 

You’re about to resume your journey when you feel something cold press against your temple. 

“Don’t move,” a deep voice demands. The roar of a car’s engine echoes nearby, as does the hurried screech of tires. “Not so much as a fucking inch.” 

Anxiety sets your every nerve aflame. You go stiff as a corpse, and perhaps you may have been mistaken for one, if not for the thunderous pounding of your heart. The moisture in your mouth dries up. Tortuous seconds drag on, devoid of any further commands. You’re ready to offer up your purse, wallet, or anything else he insists on, but he’s eerily silent. 

A pair of approaching headlights blind you. 

Is this more than a robbery? You struggle to comprehend the nightmarish events. The man holding you hostage radiates agitation, shifting his weight from foot to foot. In doing so, the barrel drags along your sweat-slicked skin. His apparent sloppiness has you weak in the knees — it’s your life hanging in the balance, why is he acting like the situation is reversed? 

Abruptly, the vehicle veers off course, crashing into a line of parked cars. A terrible cacophony follows. Glass shatters, metal debris shrieks whilst scattering, and car alarms angrily sound in disunity. What you’re witnessing doesn’t feel like real life. Your disbelief is mutual, for the man holding you captive spews curses.

You hear a click by your side; the gun’s safety being disengaged. 

“Shit!” He maneuvers you in the direction of the crash like you’re a shield. “There’s no way we were followed, no way, we did everything perfect—” 

The man never finishes his sentence. 

There’s a wet gurgle, then a wheeze, as something warm splatters on you from behind. Bile rises up your throat as the wretched noises continue. He must’ve fallen to the ground, for you no longer sense his lumbering presence, or feel the cold kiss of metal on your skin. Regardless, you refuse to budge. You squeeze your eyes shut and tremble wildly. 

“There, there. You’re safe now. ♥” A rich baritone speaks from behind. 

His declaration comes out discordant, belying the reassuring contents. You bristle at the new threat that’s presented itself. If what came before was a house cat, then this is an apex predator, the king of the jungle. The air around him feels oppressive, almost noxious. Even without a firearm directed at you, your panic reaches its zenith, soaring to heights untraversed. 

“Hm? Still scared? Ah, that’s right,” he muses to himself. “Chrollo said you’re sensitive to dishonesty. This could be troublesome.” 

“You… you know Chrollo?” 

“So you’re not in a catatonic state — how reassuring.” 

Slowly, you turn around, sensing a distinct lack of ill intent. Flashlight in hand, you try to make sense of what you witness. The scene that greets you is gruesome beyond your wildest expectations. The man who you assume held you at gunpoint has collapsed onto the ground, his jugular slit clean. Blood gushes from the wound like a geyser, forming a crimson puddle around his head. His eyes are wide, bloodshot, nearly bulging from the sockets. Liquids ooze from every visible orifice and a foul odor rises alongside them. This pitiful creature could’ve been your end. Instead, he met his, departing this world in abject terror. 

Unexpectedly, his muscles twitch. Out of reflex, you jump back and yelp. 

“Rest assured, he’s dead as a doornail.” 

“Why…” you wet your dry lips, “What… what just…?” 

While you stumble over your words, the building’s power makes a triumphant return. The lights flash intermittently, then go steady, allowing you an unobscured vantage point. Before you stands a tall, bizarrely dressed individual, with bright red hair. His beady, yellow eyes have a predatory gleam to them that he doesn’t bother suppressing. He holds a playing card in his claw-like hands, the three of spades. 

It’s coated in fresh blood. 

Your eyes fall to the fatal wound on your assailant's throat, the gears in your head turning. 

You take a step back. 

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” With a flick of his wrist, the offending card disappears, though its memory burns strong. “I’m Hisoka, Chrollo’s… colleague of sorts. Now, there’s no need to introduce yourself. I’m well acquainted with you. ♥” 

Is that supposed to make you feel better? 

You couldn’t hide your suspicion if you tried. At the very least, there’s no indication that was a lie. However, his familiarity with you is a double-edged sword. If he’s crafty, he can outmaneuver your ability. Dishonesty isn’t black and white, there are loopholes to avoiding your detection. For instance, one can remain purposefully oblivious, lie by omission, or speak in vague terms. These gray areas pass you by as if you lacked this ‘sixth sense’ to begin with. 

He was lying when he said I’m safe now, you recall. But he doesn’t seem interested in harming me…? Something isn’t adding up.

After much deliberation, you ask, “So you just happened to run into me?” 

“Nope. I’ve been following you,” he freely admits. Your aghast expression makes him laugh. “What’s the matter? You were baiting me for the truth, were you not? You’re welcome to have it. ♦” 

In your heightened state of sensitivity, you sense multiple presences converging nearby. Security guards, if you had to guess. You weigh your options. If you stay here, you’ll undoubtedly be harassed for a story that explains the chaos. Telling the truth would land you in a straight jacket whereas deception guarantees cuffs. Leaving in your car is off the table too, you’d be dubbed an important witness. There’s no way you can claim you drove by the carnage without noticing anything. 

“I can help get you out of this debacle,” he offers. “We’re both seeking the same end — the return of Chrollo’s Hatsu. The latest recording I’ve obtained is most promising. So, I’d rather we don’t continue this conversation in prison. ♣” 

Hisoka takes a step forward and extends his hand.

The security guards are getting closer, you think. There’s no time left.

And so you make your choice. 

-

You didn’t think places like these existed outside of the movies, or maybe you just don’t get around enough. 

You’ve found yourself in what you can only describe as a biker’s bar. The decor is old-fashioned, slightly worn yet authentic. There are pool tables, too many televisions to count, and a functioning jukebox nestled in the corner. Rough-looking men wearing leather jackets make up the main clientele. Fortunately, it’s Hisoka who draws the most attention, his gaudy getup acting as a magnet for the eyes. No one pays you any mind. 

For the second time this week, a weirdo treats you to drinks. The main difference is that this is a depressant and not a stimulant. 

You take hearty sips to calm your nerves. All that happened feels so surreal, like a collection of grotesque images that would be blurred out in a documentary. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid. You want to be normal, untethered by the oddity that is Nen, the ‘world’ Chrollo inhabits. You decided long ago that nothing good can come from it. Maybe if you were more adventurous, prone to taking high risks for high rewards. 

But you’re not. 

Endless money, power, and influence don’t sound appealing. Sure, there’s an allure initially, until you consider reality. Lots of money means either lots of taxes or lots of tax evasion. You barely know what a W-2 form is, much less the hoops you’d have to jump through if your income exploded. Power and influence aren’t all they’re cracked up to be either. All that scheming to stay at the top would take away from what makes life truly worth living — reading Wikipedia articles and watching eight-hour-long videos analyzing a video game from two decades ago. 

“Holy shit,” you press pause on the cassette recorder. “This Abengane guy’s the real deal.” 

“Oh?” 

“He’s familiar with getting rid o’ Nen. During his… huh, what’s it called again… oh. Yeah. Audition. Durin’ his audition for Greedy Island—” 

“ —Greed Island.” 

You wave his correction off. 

“—Yeah, yeah, whatever. But, basically, he’s legit. How’d ya even come across this?” 

“Magic. ♥” 

You make a face. “Is everyone who uses Nen annoying?” 

“Some more than others.” 

Speak of the devil. Craning your neck, you’re met with piercing gray eyes. Unlike Hisoka, Chrollo isn’t dressed like he’s auditioning for the circus. Instead, he comes across as a guy who’s going to pitch the worst idea for a startup you’ve ever heard. He’s wearing a dark blazer with a gray turtleneck beneath it, along with white pants and black loafers. You’re about to make your joke known when something about Chrollo’s demeanor changes your mind. Intensity pours off him in waves, giving you pause. 

“Good news, boss. We found your exorcist.”

The title Hisoka uses to refer to him has you tilting your head. He did refer to himself as Chrollo’s ‘colleague,’ but the word boss implies hierarchy. 

“I heard,” Chrollo smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m surprised you’re not rushing back to Greed Island to track him down.” 

He slides into the booth beside you while never looking away from Hisoka. The tension brewing in the air perplexes you. Shouldn’t this news be a cause for celebration? You’ve helped Chrollo search for a Nen exorcist for months now. Chrollo’s been searching for a Nen exorcist for months now. You’re uncertain what reaction you expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. 

“All in due time. I’d hate to cut my time with your little assistant short.”

Hisoka makes a point of looking you up and down. 

Somehow, Hisoka has made Chrollo seem normal by comparison. Disliking the attention, you reach for your drink, only to notice how light it is. Have you already drunk that much? While inspecting the near-empty glass, you realize the room’s starting to feel warm. The stress of what you endured must’ve impaired your judgment. 

What time is it, anyway? Do I have work tomorrow? 

Your watch reads 2:05 a.m.

Shit. 

“I need— need to get going…” 

“Why the rush?” Hisoka questions. “Things were just starting to get interesting. ♥” 

You ignore him and stare Chrollo down, waiting for him to move aside so you can leave. Instead of getting up, he leans closer, pursing his lips. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. Heat creeps over your face, from your cheeks to your ears. There’s no denying that the bastard’s handsome. Your friends love teasing you about him for that very reason. They never believe your insistence on having a ‘strictly platonic’ relationship, some even have bets for when you’ll end up together. 

Maybe you would’ve considered it if you didn’t know about his Nen proficiency. 

There aren’t any readily available statistics for Nen, but if you had to guess, you’d say most of the population is ignorant of its existence. People who do know about the Hunter’s Association consider it a private enterprise that specializes in exploration and taking on contract jobs. According to Chrollo, this is by design. You can barely go about your day pretending there aren’t superhumans roaming the planet, doing all sorts of crazy nonsense. 

Society would plunge into chaos if the knowledge reached them. 

You hear what sounds like your name coming from underwater. 

Blinking sluggishly, you discover Chrollo’s hand on your shoulder. “Hm? What?” 

“I’ve been calling your name,” he speaks languidly, likely for your benefit. “Are you alright?” 

“Well…” you trail off, pondering the question. “... Mm, yeah, probably not. I gotta get home, and— god, my car— it’s still back there. I don’t want… I can’t…” 

The anxiety you thought you buried resuscitates itself. It’s dull compared to earlier, yet your breathing grows shallow and your hands feel clammy. Your intenses churn like a parasite had been embedded inside. Everything feels far away, as if you’re in a dream, physically present yet mentally adrift. 

You could’ve died. 

You almost died. 

You’d fought desperately to scrub your mind of this knowledge, but the bottle can only do so much. 

“Say, Chrollo,” with a nearly imperceptible motion, Hisoka summons a playing card between his middle and pointer fingers. “If I were to slice her pretty neck, what would you do?”  

The old-fashioned glass Hisoka had been sipping from cracks. 

Pressure invades the air like a thick, heady fog, so tangible in its potency, that the chatter elsewhere dies down. The sudden silence allows for the clinging of billiard balls to reverberate throughout. Patrons glance around, vaguely aware that something is wrong, yet ultimately unable to identify the source. This primal sense of foreboding evaporates as swiftly as it arrives. The lively atmosphere reemerges, until all present seem to have forgotten anything unusual ever occurred. 

Hisoka absentmindedly cleans up the glass shards, piling them into the corner while Chrollo drums his fingers along the table. Chrollo’s jaw is set and the skin between his eyes is pinched in contemplation. 

Hisoka lets out an exaggerated sigh. “This is turning into a bore. I was confident you’d lose your cool, even if just a bit…” 

“Pathetic.” 

The unexpected vitriol has them both turning their heads in your direction. Chrollo blinks, while Hisoka tilts his head, staring at you owlishly. 

He points to himself. “Me?” 

“Yeah, you! You’re like— one of those birds, those showoff birds… dancing with your colorful feathers… ‘nd stuff…” your speech isn’t the most coherent, unaided by the irritation that’s boiling your blood. You leer at him, fed up with everything, especially whatever schemes he’s roped you into. A rough picture is presenting itself, one stroke at a time. To Hisoka, you’re nothing more than glorified bait. You don’t know if he played a role in engineering the evening’s events, but it wouldn’t be a surprise. 

At the very least, he admitted to following you. Even if he was a third party, he could’ve disposed of the impending threat. Instead, he waited, exposing you to bloodshed for his own ends. You wish you could come up with a more scathing insult. Unfortunately, your temple is throbbing and clear enunciation grows harder as your body digests the liquor you inhaled. 

Hisoka looks at Chrollo. “I’m a bird?” 

“She’s calling your bluff,” Chrollo clarifies. “Had you intended to follow up on your threat, she’d know.” 

You’re glad Chrollo realized what you were going for. The diatribe sounded better in your head. Nonetheless, he’s communicated the essence of things, lacking as it is in panache. Hisoka hums, eyeing you like you’d make for a fine appetizer before the main course. 

“You must have kept that detail from me on purpose. What an intriguing ability. ♥” 

Chrollo brushes aside his comment and refocuses his attention on you. “I’ll drive you home.” 

“But my car—” 

“I’ll handle it,” Chrollo reassures. 

He slides out from the booth and stares at you expectantly. You get the sense that trying his patience isn’t a good idea; his encounter with Hisoka must have soured his mood. He helps steady you as you stand, securing his arm behind your back. Neither of you acknowledges Hisoka while making for the door, though you can feel his eyes tracking your every movement. 

Upon emerging from the bar, the cool air you deplored earlier feels like a godsend. You hear cars rushing up and down the street, indicating the presence of a highway. Other than that, you don’t recognize the area. It’s a small, decrepit outlet, featuring shops plastered with neon signs and bars over the windows.

Chrollo ushers you in the direction of a black, unmarked McLaren.

“If you’re gonna do all that, at least get a less basic color… like pink…” 

“I’ll give it some thought.” 

Once you’re in the passenger seat, he fixes the strap of your purse and then buckles you in. It isn’t long until you’re on the road. He stays in the slow lane, mindful to avoid abrupt motions. You recline back and rest your head, hugging your arms close to your body. At the next red light, he sheds his coat, draping it over your person. The cashmere fabric is soft on your skin, embedded with his cologne and warmth. This, paired with the low hum of the engine has your eyelids growing heavy. You try resisting the temptation. 

“Thank you.” 

“Hm? For what?” 

“... Are you serious?” you murmur. “For comin’ to get me.” 

“Of course.” 

Relief rushes over you as the surrounding area becomes recognizable. Traffic is nonexistent this time of night, it shouldn’t be but a few more minutes until you’re home. Then you can crash out on your bed and deal with the existential weight of reality in the morning. Work can fire you for all you care, you just want to sleep. If you were on your deathbed, you’re ninety percent positive they’d ask you to find shift coverage before you croaked. 

Chrollo pulls into your apartment complex, parking as close to the entrance as he can. 

You fiddle with your seatbelt, intending to make the rest of the trip by yourself.

He places his large, calloused hand over yours, preventing further progress. 

“... Chrollo?” 

He doesn’t respond. His thumb rubs slow, steady circles against your skin. You swallow a growing lump in your throat. He hasn’t been himself all night. Or, to be more precise, he’s showing you a side of himself he’s hitherto kept hidden. You always knew there was more to him than he let on. You never wanted to open that Pandora's box, lest your plans be jeopardized. Playing with fire has its risks, yet cauterizing your personal wounds took priority. You don’t know if you have the right to pray the rest of your being doesn’t go up in flames. 

“I assume you’re aware of my fondness for you?” 

“I— well…” you stumble over your words, then meekly ask, “Is now really a good time for this?” 

Chrollo lowers his head and smiles. “No, I suppose not.” 

An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air. 

“One more question, then I’ll let you go,” he looks up at you through thick lashes, an enigmatic gleam passing over his eyes. “Do I frighten you?” 

Your body tenses. He addresses you so softly, so sweetly, had you not witnessed his mouth moving, you would’ve mistaken his voice for belonging to another. Your facilities aren’t functional enough to properly process his query. Perhaps that’s the point — him cornering you at this vulnerable junction. You don’t get why. You don’t think you could even if you were sober. 

Chrollo, for his part, seems to acknowledge he won’t get far in your current state.

Or maybe he gleaned his answer.

He lifts your hand to his lips, where he presses a lingering kiss. You can’t bring yourself to be the first to pull away. He lingers a while longer, as if stuck in a trance. When he does part, the skin tingles in his absence.

“I’ll be in touch.” 

-

For the past week, you’ve carried on as if nothing ever happened. 

It’s easier this way. There are instances where your performance is threatened, like when you ran across a news article detailing the ‘grisly murder of two men at a parking garage on 9th St,’ yet these lapses can be smoothed over. Ignore, distract, forget. This cycle lends you a credence of normalcy and eases you back into everyday life. 

You haven’t seen Chrollo since that night. You suppose he’s preoccupied with his arrangements to meet the Nen exorcist. While you don’t know the specifics, you imagine he’ll have to meet this Abengane in person. In the recording, he addressed two men — named Battera and Tsezguerra — where he proved himself qualified to enter ‘Greed Island.’ Aside from a few anonymous forums, information on this mythical game is sparse. All you know is that the price is exorbitant and that Battera obsessively tracks down every copy available. 

Wherever there’s Nen, things inevitably get weird, you think.

You begin tidying up your apartment. First is drying off the dishes, which saw their first use all week for a much-needed home-cooked meal. While doing so, your phone vibrates. You throw the damp rag down in a hurry and check the screen. All you find is a notification about your upcoming menstrual cycle. Sighing, you put your phone down on the counter. 

Chrollo had been truthful when he promised to take your Hatsu for assisting in the return of his. A part of you is relieved by his absence; the other is frustrated. You want to get this over with. It’s like when you have an appointment later in the day and spend the time leading up to it in a limbo, not wanting to get involved in anything until the commitment is over. Is it possible he already took it? Curious, you hold your dominant hand out. You haven’t used Instant Replay since the night at the biker’s bar. 

Aura surges through you, concentrating at the palm of your hand. Much to your disappointment, the light pink cassette tape appears. Maybe it no longer works? As a test, you rewind the recording of the audio Chrollo provided at the café. Once primed, you press play, listening attentively for certain cues. 

“It is my great honor to profess that I, Lilith, can purge you of any ailment, even scourges derived from Nen — for a small donation of…” 

The self-proclaimed Mistress of Panaceas sounds increasingly garbled as her lies surface. Clicking your tongue, you deactivate your ability. Everything remains operational. You don’t know what you expected, you’ve overheard the telltale sounds of lying the past few days. It just hasn’t been directed at you, which weakens the effect. 

Will you really have to endure this the rest of your life? 

Shortly into resuming your task, there’s a knock at your door. 

You ignore it, not in the mood to deal with a neighbor asking for something. After thirty or so seconds, there’s another round of knocking. You suppress a groan. Why can’t the world sense that you’re moody and let you brood in peace? Trudging over, you try to put on a pleasant face, unwilling to lash out on others even if you’re in a terrible mood. Erring on the side of caution, you glance out the peephole. 

Upon doing so, you almost lose your balance.

…

He must’ve decided he kept you waiting long enough.

[pissvortex]

i would obviously marginally prefer kamala harris over trump but i am under no illusion that progress is truly being won under bourgeois politics. i also don’t see “not voting” as a useful political action in the same way that i don’t see voting as useful either. what i support is building power for whatever miniscule scraps of a communist left exist in this country. the only real pragmatic application of that wrt election are, in my opinion, gauging the power that i and people in a similar enough bloc to me hold through a conditional vote. the only circumstance under which i will vote for kamala harris is if she supports a full permanent ceasefire in gaza. if she does not, then clearly her campaign has made a calculated decision that my vote and others like mine are not worth earning, and that a population of moderates in support of or functionally apathetic to the genocide are a more valuable electoral base. this at least tells us something in regards to our power and ability to coordinate a unified popular demand. if she forsakes our vote and wins anyway, obviously we have got a lot of work left to do (not that this isn’t the case anyway). if she forsakes our vote and loses in a way where she could have won if she had our vote, this makes her 100% complicit and morally culpable in everything trump does to the country. small comfort to us but what’s the point in having voted for her if she is fundamentally identical to trump? if she concedes to the demand and wins, we’ve achieved the best possible outcome of the bargain (even though she will probably not actually work towards a permanent ceasefire). this all requires a degree of coordination from us that i would like to see socialist organizations put forward - this is also practical in that the exercise of what power and coordination we have is useful for forming our capacity to express alternate modes of power. we’re living in hell in this country and this is how i choose to navigate it.

[handonthemouse]

Realistic Sims 3-4 Inspired Face Templates for the Sims 2! No More Long Faces!

I started playing the Sims 2 solely, about 2 years ago. Ever since, I like my Sims to have a certain facial proportion. I know some Sims 2 players like the long-face cartoony look of the sims in the Sims 2... but I personally don't. It inhibits me from making people that look real and unique imho. So behold! New DEFAULT face templates for the Sims 2! I made this for myself but I can share it here as well.

Features: 1. Inspired by different faces around the world. I wanted the faces to be as diverse as possible 2. No more gender differences! Maxis Face Templates makes it so that when you switch from Female to Male, the brows go sooo looww, the nose, chin and jaw gets soo big, and the lips become nonexistent basically. Well no more! (this took a lot of time to do) 3. All faces have the same proportions (same eye, nose, and chin height) so you can mix and match all of the faces and you won't end up with an unproportionate sim! 4. Includes default alien face template replacement as well! Watch Video for reference:

Before Installing: 1. Take any default face templates you currently have in your game if any. 2. Gonna look ugly if you make children with my face template and maxis'. The outcome is gonna look unproportional so don't do that Suggestions: 1. Use my cc skintones + Magic Theatre Eyes by CuriousB (Default). This is what I use, but feel free to experiment with other. 2. Remove all pre-made townies (video by PleasantSims) so that your game can generate new sims with my face templates 3. Download hair replacements since Maxis' hair has a high hairline. 4. Works best if you prefer to create your own custom neighborhood from scratch. Since Maxis neighborhoods have sims with the default long faces. 5. For better access of sliders and face templates, I would suggest to create Sims in BodyShop and not In-game 6. Credit to all the Simmers who've made custom face sliders! I wouldn’t have been able to make these without those sliders, and I suggest you download them here. 7. Download Treeag's Hider for Maxis Sims. Which hides the sims that Maxis created so that your CAS and Bodyshop will only have Sims that you've created yourself This has been one year in the making. When I started, the toddler and child face templates were royally messed up, so I had to painstakingly edit all 28, then, male and female sims look different so I had to manually change them all as well to eliminate all that. This took me months of not playing the game to finish making this. This is what I have been using in my game and so I'm just sharing it here in case anyone wants them as well.

For any feedback and suggestions, comment here or message me on Bluesky.

DOWNLOAD (Mediafire)

Credit to Argon for the face template fixes, which I've included in the download since other face template replacements also include them in their downloads.

Note: Might change either Face Template 22 or 23, but idk what. If you have any face-suggestions let me know. Next thing on my list is to upload my recolors of CuriousB's Magic Theatre Eyes and my Default face replacement for the pollination technician and ideal plantsim. Alien face template for PT replacement and face 26 for ID replacement. WIP

[prettyykarmaa]

Snacks and a Stream

GN!Reader x Naib Subedar

Summary - You go out to get some snacks at your local convenience store, and run into someone unexpected.

WC - 1,508 (this was only supposed to be ~500 words...)

Author’s Note(s) - I was watching “Falling Into Your Smile” on Netflix, so you can imagine what my inspiration for this fic is. Also there might be some inaccuracies involving streaming and Twitch, so sorry if I get something wrong!

Team OPH was about to go live in about half an hour, and you were more than ready to watch. The last few days have been rather busy, so you haven't had the chance to tune into any of their streams until now. You drag your cursor to Naib's profile and click on it. Out of the four members, you tended to gravitate towards his streams—a lot.

If someone were to ask why, you'd tell them that you find his dedication and skills as a rescuer impressive. His position wasn't one many people liked to fulfill, but he always took it seriously, even in more laid-back matches. He was like the embodiment of the saying, "No man left behind." It was hard not to admire that.

The second reason wasn't something you would admit as readily. You preferred streamers who were on the quieter side, and Naib embodied that trait. Despite not talking as much as the other OPH members, he still made his streams engaging in their own right. The black hair and dark-coloured eyes combo certainly didn't help either. Were you developing a tiny crush on him? You didn't want to think about that.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you look back to the countdown on Naib's stream. There were twenty minutes to go. The wheels of your chair roll as you slide over to your snack drawer. You might as well have one, or a couple, before it starts. Opening it up, you're met with a disappointing sight.

Nothing was inside. There wasn't even a half-opened package. A small sigh escapes you as you remember what happened. The last time you opened this drawer, you were binging a show that had sat on your watchlist for far too long and completely blew through your entire stash during it. You forgot to buy more, which left you to deal with the outcome tonight. Dusk had already passed, evident by the moonlight shining through your window, but that wouldn't stop you from going out to buy a few.

Slipping on a hoodie, you're out the door in a heartbeat. Cold, night air immediately nips at your cheeks as you walk to the convenience store nearby. Even though it was quiet outside, there were the faint noises of crickets or cars passing by to break it up. You end up at the parking lot after taking a right turn. Its storefront sign glows brightly, bathing the concrete at your feet in vibrant colours. You pull on the door handle of the store and step inside.

The familiar entry chime plays overhead. Focused on returning home before Naib's stream starts, you speedwalk to the snack aisle, passing by someone wearing white in the aisle over. Your eyes land on the whole purpose of this trip. All kinds of snacks lined the rows. You start to grab the usual. Chips, chocolate, and candy. When you feel like you have enough to last the night, you carefully walk to the checkout.

The cashier watches you place the snacks on the counter and begins to quietly scan them. When he finishes scanning the last one, the cashier looks up at you. "$14.17 is your total." You have to stop yourself from wincing, so you give him a weak nod instead. Reaching into your pockets, you realize you have forgotten your wallet. As you're mentally debating what to do now, you feel a light tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you're met with the last guy you'd expect to see in person. Ever.

Naib Subedar.

It was hard to say what had you more speechless. Naib looked good on his streams, but that did not compare to seeing him in real life. A hat sat comfortably on his head, resting on his raven locks. The streamer's outfit was pretty casual, except for his white varsity jacket, with OPH's designs emblazoned onto it. The other thing that caught your attention was much more humorous. Naib had three family-sized bags of chips in his nestled in his arms. You recall hearing Luca talking about Naib's affinity for the food in one of his streams. Seeing it firsthand, however, was as surprising as it was amusing.

"Can I?" Naib says, his gaze flickering from the snacks on the counter to your eyes. "Oh. Uh, sure." You muse as you move off to the side. Naib was paying. He was paying for himself and you. Relief fills you when he steps up to take your place. You weren't sure if you could hold eye contact with him any longer. Once he's done, Naib hands you a small plastic bag with all your snacks inside. The both of you walk towards the exit, with you trailing behind him. Naib pushes the door open and holds it for you.

Once you're outside, he lets it go, a click signifying its closure behind you. Silence fills the space between you two, and a part of you wants to leave it at that. Naib is the quietest out of all the members in OPH. Who knows if he'd choose to entertain a conversation with you? However, the other part of you couldn't stay quiet, not when he paid for you. Someone who was, by all means, a stranger. Before you can stop yourself, you look at him and ask: "Why did you pay for me?" Naib's eyes are trained on the empty parking in front of you. It seems like he won't be replying, but after a few moments, he does.

"My mom would've wanted me to help someone if I could, so I paid for you."

His tone gave off very little, but his expression gave you the idea that there was more to his otherwise kind gesture. You quickly decide to leave it that. The last thing you'd want to do is bring up bad memories. "Anyways, thank you." You shift your weight before quietly adding, "I'm sure she'd be happy to know you took her words to heart." The streamer hums in acknowledgment before looking at you. "I hope you're right." Then, he walks off, prompting you to do the same. You play with the handles of your plastic bag on the way home, your mind swirling.

The snacks are immediately dumped beside your keyboard, and your chair creaks as you plop down onto it. After a few more minutes, the countdown hits zero, and Naib starts his stream. For the next few hours, you indulge yourself in his stream. It's your reward for getting through such a long week. Unfortunately, you couldn't stop thinking about your earlier, even as his stream was wrapping up. It's a shame you couldn't do anything for him in return. Wait a second. You practically shoot up in your seat as you get an idea.

naibs_elbowpads32 has donated $14.17! "How's the chips?"

The streamer pauses, then looks at his web camera. "They're great. Would recommend." You laugh at Naib's reply. When he ends the stream, you get ready to log off. The effects of staying up so late will hit you in the morning, so you might as well try and do some damage control now. However, something stops you from doing that. A notification appears, letting you know that someone has dm'd you.

It was from none other than OPH_Naib.

Your mind shuts down, but your mouse clicks on the whisper button. His message, or rather question, reads: "Do you play Identity V?" If you weren't occupied with questioning what you have done recently to end up here, you would've laughed. Hard. The world was keen on reminding you of your growing crush on Naib, but honestly? You wouldn't mind getting to know the captain of Team OPH simply as a friend or as something more.

"I do."

Bonus:

"So you're telling me that's the first thing you messaged them?" Lily asks, fighting the urge to shoot Naib an incredulous look. She hoped he was joking, but knowing his sense of humour, there was no way this was one of them. Nonetheless, she needed to hear him confirm it. With his own voice and words.

"Yes. Do you want a screenshot?" Naib's expression was the exact same poker face he always had on. He was lucky that they were only on call. If not, she would've grabbed his shoulders and started to shake him. "For someone with the best game sense I've ever seen, I gotta say your social skills are something else."

The black-haired streamer slightly raises his eyebrows. "I think that was a perfectly fine way of starting a conversation, Lily." Naib reaches for one of the family-sized chip bags on his desk and rips it open, popping a few chips into his mouth. She sighs in response as she leans back in her chair, pushing up her heart-shaped glasses. "I can't tell what to be more surprised about. That you seriously chose that as your conversation starter…"

"…Or the fact you willingly went out of your way to initiate a conversation with someone that isn't in OPH."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ngl, I was struggling with this fic LMAO, but I'm pretty happy with how it came out in the end. Thank you for patience and I hope this fic was worth the wait!! I got a couple ideas for new fics, so hopefully I'll find the time to flesh them out. Until then, take care :]

[heartfullofleeches]

[Request] Reader caring for a sick Remmy [Dollmaker Yan Oc]

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.1k

-

“Remmy isn't home right now…. Please come back later.”

Could this day get any worse?... Weeks, months even, building up the courage to ask you to hang out with him. It wasn't like he asked you out on a date or anything, not yet anyway. He still needed to test the water a little longer, make sure the signals he had picked up from you weren't figments of his imagination. All that time, all those embarrassing hours spent in front of the mirror practicing what to say given any outcome - flushed down the drain in one night. 

Remmy could hardly open his eyes the morning you were intended to meet. You didn't even recognize him over the phone at first. In his heightened state of delirium from the fever racking his weary mind, he hoped the same would happen as you continuously rang his doorbell - demanding in the softest voice you could manage for him to open up.

As if he could be that lucky….

“And where, pray tell, would someone hacking up a lung over the phonean hour ago be right besides the hospital? It's not that far away. I can head over right now and check.” 

….

“Open this door right now, Remiel. You're not going to flake on me twice today.”

Did you have to phrase it like that? Kicking a sick person while he could barely stand was cruel - even if you did come to check up on him. 

“O…okay…. Remmy is- I'm going to unlock the door, just…give me a minute to clean up my room. I have some stuff out I really don't want anyone to see…”

The muffled shuffling of plastic splices between the click of the lock as Remmy unlocks the front door. 

“60.”

“Crap.” 

Hobbling away from the front door, Remmy clings to the hallway walls as he makes a break for his bedroom. The straight path twists and bends as his stress levels skyrocket from the very real fear of you finding out what he had stored. There wasn't enough time for him to hide everything. His top priority were the worst offenders - items he couldn't excuse as being a result of his relatively harmless hobby. Doll clothing fashioned after clothes you'd yet to wear for the public eye. Others you never owned and probably would never wear, unless they were for a partner or to make yourself feel good. Pictures of you hung up on his walls. So much to bury in such little time. 

“They can't see that…That one either. God, they'd kill me if they saw-”

“Saw what?” 

A hoarse yelp claws its way out of Remmy's aching throat. Standing in his doorway, you balance two separate bags in your arms - awaiting his response. Remmy hurriedly pulls the corners of his blankets over the space beneath his bed. 

“I…threw up a bit ago. Guess I'm feeling worse than I thought when we spoke over the phone.” 

In the blink of an eye you're by his side. Remmy flinches as you press the back of your palm against his forehead.

“Oh, Rem….” Concern oozes from your words as you set your bags down, taking hold of his arm. You're burning up. Come on. Let's get you back in bed.”

“You don't have to go through all this for me, Y/n. Really, I'm-” His sentence falls short as you scoop him off the floor, sitting him up on his bed. Were you always this strong - or had he always been this easy to carry? In that moment, Remmy felt just like one of his dolls. His head spins at the very thought. You take the opportunity to gently ease him down against the mattress, rolling the discarded sheets up to his waist. You pick up the plastic bags, setting them on the small table in the center of his room as you rummage through them.

“Got some chicken soup from this dinner down the street. If you can't keep anything down, maybe the broth will be a good place to state. Oh!- picked up some ginger ale too. That might help with your stomach too. Cough drops, cough medicine…. Do you prefer liquid or pills?” 

Remmy turns his head away from you as he coughs into his fist. “...whichever…whichever you brought is fine.”

“Well,I actually bought both, but I can just return the other on my way home later. I'll go grab you a cup real quick.”

Heading for the door, Remmy’s meek voice calls out to you - barely about a whisper. “Y/n?”

Hand on the doorframe, you gaze over your shoulder at him. “What's up? Need something else while I'm in the kitchen?”

“No…” Remmy shakes his head, the pressure of a headache hammering at his skull. “Agh… Remmy… I just wanted to thank you…for this. You really didn't have to come over…” 

A smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. “Don't think I did this for nothing. Gotta make sure you're well enough for our date next weekend. The park is nice and all, but that's where we always go. I expect to be taken somewhere else for our first date.”

“Date?” He couldn't have heard you right. But, you said it - twice. You disappear down the hall before he can properly question you. Was this all a dream? The conjurings of his ill mind as the sickness took hold? This felt better than anything he could imagine- Your hushed voice as you reenter the room confirms it. You wiggle your arm behind his head, helping him sit back up just enough to place the cup to his lips without him choking while swallowing. A part of him wished this was a dream. One that he'd never wake up from if he had the choice. Another dream come true was waiting for him once he got better.

“Remmy?...Rem?”

Soda spills onto your hand as the weight of his head crashes upon your shoulder. Did he…. fall asleep? Just like that? You hadn't even given him his medicine yet. At least the sleep will be good for him. You should probably go put everything else you brought up to pass the time until he wakes up. 

“Mmm…”

Remmy’s face scrunches in discomfort as you part from his side, lowering his head onto the pillows as you stand. Your foot touches something soft beneath his bed. You reach a hand underneath - completely forgetting about his earlier warnings as your fingers wrap around the squishy item. A doll with instantly identifying features stares back up at you as you drag it from its prison. Funny - you don't remember wearing this shirt around Remmy. You only bought it a few days ago. You planned to wear it today before he told you the bad news.

Shrugging, you raise Remmy's arm - tucking the doll against his chest. His face melts into that of peaceful bliss, body curling around the doll as his other hand strokes its face as if on auto-pilot. You press a kiss to his forehead - shutting off the lights in his room as you depart for a second time.

[yumeka-sxf]

Thoughts on Spy x Family: Family Portrait

I finally got around to reading the SxF light novel, Family Portrait...and I mean "finally" because it's literally been sitting in my shelf since it was first released in English back in December of last year! I was distracted by Code White and the SxF video game which came out around the same time, but even long after that, I was having trouble getting motivated to read it. For some reason, experiencing SxF in novel format instead of in anime/manga just didn't appeal to me, plus the fact that it's not written by Endo himself (these weird preferences of mine are also why I'm not into reading fanfics either). Don't get me wrong, in general I love reading stories in prose form too, but for a series like SxF that already has such an established visual identity, it doesn't feel as "authentic" to me if that makes any sense. But I did want to read it eventually, since it is an official part of SxF media and Endo did the illustrations and does acknowledge the book (he wrote a nice afterword at the end). So I finally sat down and read it in sections over the course of this week! I'll share my brief thoughts on each of the contained stories:

Novel Mission 1

Since this was the first story in the book, it took me a while to get used to experiencing the world of SxF in novel form. There were some things I felt would have been better conveyed in anime/manga, for example, one of the very first gags about Yor misinterpreting Anya's nature class as some sort of hardcore outdoor survival trip. As I was reading that part I was like "I get the joke, but it would have been funnier if I actually saw these images and the characters' expressions with Endo's comedic illustrations." It was also a bit jarring to hear the characters thoughts and feelings from third-person narration, but I got used to it. As for the story itself, it was Damianya focused, something I'm not particularly into, but I don't mind it either. I liked the rare, soft Damian moments, and the thing with the squirrel eating Anya's peanut trail was funny. I also liked the scene at the beginning where Loid and Yor feed Bond together while Anya watches.

Novel Mission 2

Oddly, this was my favorite of the stories! Of all the characters, I think the author nailed Yuri's unhinged thoughts the best - as I was reading, I couldn't help but hear every cringe thought in his voice, which is a good sign of how well the author gets the character! I actually chuckled at a few parts too, both from his insane Yor-obsessed and anti-Loid musings, as well as from his banter with Anya. The police interrogation scene was great and would be even better if it ever gets animated! I also found it interesting that this story has the first instance where we find out what Yuri thinks about Bond (that he's fat and useless - rude!) Also his first time hearing about Franky apparently...makes we wonder if Endo will make him feel the same way if these things ever come up in the manga.

Novel Mission 3

I liked this story a lot too! I think it worked the best in novel format out of all of them, probably because it was more focused on drama and emotions than comedy. It's ironic that the two official SxF stories that feature the deeper side of Franky's character - this one and the omake chapter from volume 13 - are both not even part of the main canon! Alessa would have definitely accepted Franky's job as an informant, but he felt that someone like her should only be surrounded by "beautiful things." The poor man really needs to see that inner beauty matters too, and he has that! I also think he should have swallowed his pride and told Loid the real reason why he wanted the disguise...not that it would have changed the outcome. Poor Franky.

Novel Mission 4

This was a cute Forger-focused story, but like the first one, I felt it had parts that would have been more effective in anime/manga form, for example, "hair monster" Yor and whatever hideous painting Felix ended up making! But despite that, it was still funny and cute. Though I do think the author went a tad overboard with Yor's flustered antics...they just kept going and going, lol. Also, like the movie, we have another scenario of Loid getting flung into the air by Yor but landing gracefully on his feet (though this instance was much tamer since she wasn't drunk and only pushed him instead of hit him). Again, maybe I would have appreciated the humor in this story better if I saw it in anime/manga with Endo's hilarious designs and expressions, but for what it was, it was enjoyable enough.

Short Novel

This extra short story would be perfect as a reintroduction story for a future anime season...maybe one day!

-----

Overall, the Family Portrait novel is a nice addition to the Spy x Family universe. Even though I feel the humor in the series is most effective in illustrated form, it's still nice to have more stories in the canon, especially ones that show new sides to the characters, like the Franky and Yuri stories. Like the movie, it's debatable if this novel should be considered true canon or not, but personally, I don't find anything in it that contradicts canon, at least not yet. So yeah, definitely check out the novel if you haven't already! 😁

[malk1ns]

february 23 vs rangers, 5-3 loss

this tweet served as inspo for this one.

There was a time in Sid’s career where two bad back-to-back losses like this would have been enough to make him blow his lid.

He’s not going to deny having a temper. He does a good job reining it in most of the time, but especially when he was younger he wasn’t above losing his shit on the locker room when they had a bad stretch of games and guys weren’t playing the right way.

Now, especially when he’s still riding the high of bringing home another gold medal to add to his trophy cabinet, Sid can’t bring himself to get too mad. The team is performing exactly as he expected they would after all the conversations he had with Kyle over the summer; nobody’s saying the word, but they’re in a rebuild. Winning is off the table for now, so Sid’s finding joy in other things: watching younger players grow more confident on the ice, celebrating personal milestones with the same exuberance they once reserved for playoff series wins, and appreciating the time he gets to spend with his best friends out on the ice despite the odds.

Especially Geno. Although the time Sid and Geno spend together looks a lot different than the time Sid spends with Kris.

He hums as he strips off his gear and looks around the room, thinking about what he still needs to get done tonight. He checked in with Blomqvist already; the kid let in a few stinkers tonight, but Sid’s not going to put this all on him, not when they can’t give him the goal support he deserves. He should talk to Kris about that penalty, but Kris is brooding over in his stall and everyone is giving him a wide berth, so Sid decides it can wait until tomorrow.

When Sid’s eyes land on Geno, Geno winks. He looks happy, which after a game like that he should—three points in two games and his knee is back to normal. No matter the outcome of a game, it always eases the sting when Sid can watch Geno flying out there on the ice.

Something else Sid’s doing this year that’s different is Geno.

They’ve been on-and-off fooling around for years, between and sometimes during other more serious relationships, but over the summer Sid had enough of the back-and-forth. They were both single, they weren’t getting any younger—Sid saw no reason to not give them a real try, and flew down to Miami to talk to Geno about it in person under the pretext of giving himself a break from contract talk.

Geno agreed. Enthusiastically, many times, and all over his condo. Sid hadn’t been able to wipe the stupid, well-fucked smile from his face for a solid week after his return to Cole Harbour.

They’ve managed to keep it from the team, although there have been a few close calls. They were already so deep in each other’s pockets that spending time together outside of the rink hasn’t raised any eyebrows, but when Sid looks at Geno he sometimes feels like a teenager again, and it’s hard to resist the urge to herd him into supply closets and kiss him until they’re both red-faced and out of breath.

Tomorrow is an off day, though, and for once neither of them have any other obligations. Sid pulls out his phone and bites his lip as he considers his options.

Geno likes sexting, which had been a surprise. He usually avoids using written English at all costs, preferring to send gifs and emojis that need to be deciphered instead, but when Sid sent him something slightly saucy before they were both back in Pittsburgh for the season, Geno’s response had been…thorough.

They’ve spent more time apart this year than either of them would like between injuries and illness, and Sid figured out pretty quickly that Geno really gets off from sending pictures that neither of them have any business taking and reading about what Sid wants to do to him.

He’s got some ideas for tomorrow, once they’ve both rehydrated and had a full night’s sleep.

i watched that video u sent me last week again earlier today, the one of u fucking urself, he types out, angling his phone just in case Bunts is feeling nosy. bet u could take even more. tomorrow i’ll give u what u want

Sid drops his phone into his bag and stretches. He’s bone-tired, and Geno will complain if he waits to shower until they’re at home, but he wants to sit for a while on the shower bench and enjoy the steam feature he had installed when he built the house.

“Oh god,” Glasser says from across the room, sounding distraught, and Sid looks up, schooling his face back into concerned-captain mode.

Glasser has his phone in his hand, and before Sid’s brain can put the pieces together, his gut lurches. He lunges for his phone, but it’s too late.

—

They probably could have gotten away with pretending Sid’s text was meant for some girl, but Geno’s never been good at schooling away his emotions. Kris had spun to show Geno his screen while he was still gaping down at his phone in shock, and Kris is too smart to not put two and two together when it’s right in front of his face.

By the time Sid and Geno escape the locker room, Sid’s ears are ringing. Between the chirps, the questions, Karl telling everyone he can grab that I knew Geno wasn’t just helping Sid get down a roll of tape, I knew something was up! and Kris’s cackling, echoed by Flower who he got on FaceTime alarmingly fast, Sid’s so overwhelmed he can barely remember where they parked.

Geno looks equally stunned in the passenger seat, staring out the window with huge eyes. Every now and then he inhales like he’s about to talk, but shakes his head and settles back into his seat. 

Neither of them got to shower after all.

They move silently through their postgame routines once they get to Sid’s, downing food and water on autopilot. Sid seriously considers drowning himself in that luxe shower he spent so much on, but he doesn’t want anyone to say his twentieth point-per-game season doesn’t count because he didn’t make it past sixty games played, so he turns the water off once his skin is sufficiently scalded.

He doesn’t look at himself in the mirror while he does his skincare, and as Geno takes his turn in the bathroom Sid curls up in a ball on the bed, facing the door and squeezing his eyes shut.

The sound of Geno’s feet scuffling on the carpet as he shuts the blinds and turns off the light settles Sid, and his weight on the mattress as he crawls under the blankets gets Sid breathing regularly again.

“Wow,” Geno finally says after a few moments of silence. “Crazy.”

Sid can’t help it—he starts laughing, first a giggle and then a hysterical guffaw that brings tears to his eyes. He can’t stop, and it doesn’t take Geno long to join in.

By the time their laughter fades off, Sid’s turned around and curled up against Geno’s body, getting as close as possible.

“They’re never gonna stop, huh,” he mutters, thinking about how many unread texts he had before he finally turned his phone off entirely.

“No,” Geno says, sounding dire. “And Flower tell everyone, like, half league knows tomorrow morning. It’s hell. Ovechkin gets hat trick and now this? Can’t go to Russia ever, he follows me around to read text out loud, all summer.”

Sid coughs out another laugh. “Sorry, bud.” He sighs. “At least tomorrow’s a day off. We don’t have to talk to any of them if we don’t want to.”

“Sid…” Geno starts hesitantly. Sid props himself up on one elbow and squints into the dark, trying to make Geno’s features out. “You still want to do tomorrow?”

It takes Sid a second.

“Fuck yeah,” he says fervently, lying back down and running his palm down Geno’s torso until he can grope at his soft dick. “As soon as—” He breaks off into a huge yawn. “—just as soon as I don’t feel like I’m going to die if I don’t get sleep. You’ll see. I’ll get you good.”

If Geno responds, Sid doesn’t hear it.

—

Sid isn’t quite sure when Geno’s collection of sex toys migrated to his house. Sid didn’t have any of his own, never felt the urge to buy one, but they’ve been working their way through Geno’s toy box up in the privacy of Sid’s bedroom all season, and Sid’s familiar with enough of them by now to have a few favorites.

Right now, he’s got Geno panting underneath him as he works Geno’s favorite dildo into him far, far more slowly than Geno would like, if the way he’s tugging at his wrist restraints is any indication.

Geno’s babbling, long flowing Russian that sounds desperate and pleading, but Sid ignores him in favor of watching the way Geno’s hole is stretched around one of the ridges in the toy. It’s bigger than Sid’s dick, which he’d feel insecure about if Geno hadn’t proven just how into Sid’s equipment he is.

Sid can appreciate variety, and Geno figured out years ago that the best way to push Sid’s buttons is to challenge him until Sid feels competitive enough about trying new things to overcome his insecurities. It works for them.

Sometimes, though, Sid likes to fall back on tried-and-true favorites. Like today.

The toy he’s got Geno squirming on right now always gets him just right. It’s plain black, curved with thick ridges that bulge out and make Geno shout when they pass over his prostate, and there’s a button in the base that makes the tip vibrate. Sid’s not using that today—it makes Geno crazy when he does, but right now Sid feels like working for it himself.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, pushing the toy until the ridge stretching Geno wide is fully inside. Geno takes in a huge, shaky breath, but his respite doesn’t last for long, because Sid starts working the next ridge into him. “You’re desperate for it. I told you, I’ll give you what you need.”

“Please,” Geno begs, yanking at the ropes binding his arms to the headboard. “Sid, can’t.” But the way he’s arching his back into Sid’s hands says otherwise.

“You can,” Sid says, petting over Geno’s lower stomach.

By the time Sid gets the toy completely in, Geno’s crying, and Sid’s so hard he can’t resist palming at himself.

“Look at that,” Sid says to himself, angling the toy to the side so it stretches Geno even further. “I bet you really could take more.”

He lets go of the base for a second to drizzle lube over his fingers. Pausing, he looks up at where Geno’s chin is craned down to stare at him.

Geno nods, a tiny, jerky little thing, but that’s enough for Sid.

He grabs the base and tilts the toy again, petting over Geno’s rim with his index finger. “Such a slut,” he mutters, nudging his finger in alongside the toy.

It’s a tight fit, and Geno’s not helping by clenching around him reflexively, but Sid crooks his finger and rubs his thumb over Geno’s rim, hushing him until he relaxes.

He considers adding more, fitting three or even four inside next to the dildo, and the throb of arousal that washes over him is so strong it’s nearly nauseating. 

Another time. They can work up to it.

Instead, Sid slips his finger out, smiling as Geno’s whines shift to protests. He rubs his sticky hand over Geno’s thigh, then closes it around Geno’s dick while rotating the toy.

Geno comes so hard his back bows painfully, and Sid chews on his lip as he massages Geno’s dick through it and watches the way Geno thrashes his head back and forth, a hectic flush high on his cheeks.

He eases the toy out carefully, but Geno whimpers, overstimulated and sore. Sid murmurs nonsense until it’s free, tossing it to the side carelessly. 

He’s ready to take himself in hand and come on Geno’s stomach, or maybe his face if Geno’s feeling generous, but before he can make a move Geno’s leg curls around his back.

Sid looks up, and Geno’s eyes are still shiny and blown, but direct.

“Fuck me,” he says, letting his leg drop and spreading his thighs as wide as he can. “Sid, please, I need.”

“Shit,” Sid swears. “Baby, no, I’ll hurt you.”

“I don’t care,” Geno says, rolling his shoulders back and clenching his fingers against the ropes. “Please, want to feel.”

Sid shouldn’t. They play tomorrow.

Geno’s hot inside, though, and somehow still tight, and the sounds he makes as Sid loses himself in thrusting into him send Sid over the edge so fast he’s dizzy.

“Jesus,” he gasps, grinding his hips in one last time before pulling out and sitting back on his heels. He parts Geno’s cheeks and looks at his hole, sore and red and dripping with Sid’s come. If Sid were still 23 he thinks he’d probably be getting hard again already at the sight. “You’re incredible.

“Yes,” Geno agrees, smug despite how breathless and fucked-out he sounds. “Sid, my hands.”

Sid scrambles to untie him, and Geno winces as he rotates his wrists before letting Sid rub briskly over the rope marks. “Ouch,” he complains, but it’s toothless, and Sid ignores it in favor of restoring proper blood circulation to Geno’s hands. He’ll need them tomorrow.

Geno grumbles and flinches, but lets Sid complete his ministrations. “Next time we tie you, maybe,” he says, pulling back once Sid lets go and flexing his fingers. “Maybe then you’re not send stupid text to whole team, Jesus.”

Sid didn’t think he was ready to laugh about it yet, but this is far from the first time Geno’s proven him wrong.

[rachelamberish]

“…Those Who Know Not That They Are Not”

~Expedition 33 ending spoilers and analysis below the cut~

It’s so interesting seeing the overwhelming narrative people have taken from the ending being that it’s first and foremost a story about a family struggling with grief. I think it is genuinely so fascinating how that is the first thing people take away from this game. Not in a bad way. Just like a genuine study on the way people’s brains work.

Because like yeah, I’ll agree that yes, it is about that, but to me it is WAY more about existentialism. Because the way that we are introduced to the story is through the people of Lumière, to me it was always a story about them first. All the bullshit with the Dessendres came much later, and it feels like a distraction from the lives of people like Gustave, Sophie, Sciel and Lune, whose stories feel the most grounded and rooted in real emotion.

To disregard all that in favor of the crippling grief of a couple people with the magical power of creating pocket dimensions and sentient life that they have the power to mass-murder with a hand wave feels so wrong me. Especially when you’ve got characters like Lune screaming “no, fuck you, I’m a person” until the end.

Verso is so compelling because he exists in this uncomfortable in-between place where he is a creation of the canvas but he actively wants to die. Every action he takes feels like a convenient excuse for arriving at that outcome, at the expense of the lives of others. He doesn’t have a shred of self worth and doesn’t view himself as real, and thereby doesn’t view anyone else in the canvas as being real either. Their deaths a necessity to end his prolonged suffering and potentially aid in the well-being of a “real” family that will never love him. He wants to punish himself and allow the “real” Verso to rest in peace, but these are both false narratives that he created, trapped himself in, and places no investment in trying to escape.

The painted Dessendres are all so interesting in this very similar regard. They live eternity with the knowledge of their own creation and suffer and struggle with the implications and existential trauma that arises from that. They struggle with the very questions we the players find ourselves asking — questions about sentience and life and death and are you really you if you are just an echo of someone else? “Why must minds created by man be false?” Each painted family member comes to a very different conclusion, but none manage to really *live* with it. They are each tortured souls, but are they tortured because they should never have existed, or are they tortured because they are forced to reckon with the oppressive weight of their nature rather than live fulfilling lives? They, collectively, make what was to me the most thoughtful yet deeply bleak story the game offered.

The “real” Dessendres cannot cope with the death of their son, but that struggle is only exacerbated by their outright refusal to acknowledge the dangers of excess and power. The constant narrative of “none of them would ever be strong enough to not return to the canvas if it were an option available to them” is unfortunate if in fact the case, but also, NOT the problem of the people that live inside it.

So instead you have a story of a people shouting into the void to justify their existence to a small group of miserable gods who just aren’t listening. And eventually, their voices get drowned out by the narrative itself, which moves its subjective focus like the slow pan of a camera, until the horror of the Gommage is completely out of frame.

I’m not even saying I prefer one ending to the other. Both seem pretty miserable in their own ways. But I can’t help but feel surprise at the sheer amount of people who seem as eager to write off Lumière and its people as “inventions” as Renoir is. That feels like an intentional trap of excellent writing, when the heart and truth of the story is far more complex.

[notablenotions]

Mask's of Nobility-Chapter 13

The morning light crept through the shutters of the guest room, soft and golden. Hans stirred before Henry, lying still for a moment, watching the sun inch across the floorboards. Henry’s weight rested against him, peaceful now, breath steady. The panic of yesterday seemed distant, yet it clung to Hans’ mind like mist.

He should be preparing for court duties—meetings, inspections, tedious affairs he barely tolerated. But instead, he found himself pressing a hand to Henry’s shoulder, gently waking him.

“Come riding with me,” Hans murmured, voice hoarse from sleep.

Henry blinked, eyes bleary. “Now?”

“No.” Hans smiled faintly. “For the week. We’ll go to the hunting lodge. Just you and me. Fresh air, no titles. No expectations.”

Henry regarded him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Alright.”

Hans felt something ease in his chest.

A knock at the door. Jikta, entering before either could fully compose themselves—not that Hans tried. She carried a small jar and set it on the table without fanfare.

“For your chest,” she said to Henry, matter-of-fact. “A balm. I spent the night researching. My father… when he came back from war, it started the same way.”

Henry sat up, surprised. “Thank you.”

Hans rose to stand, offering her a small nod of gratitude. “We’re going hunting. Week or so.”

Jikta raised an eyebrow, but only said, “If you see belladonna, bring some back.”

Hans hesitated. “Jikta… might I have a word? Privately.”

She followed him into the hallway without complaint, arms folded, her expression unreadable.

Hans fidgeted, a rare show of discomfort. “How long have you known? About… me and Henry?”

Jikta’s lips twitched, dry amusement in her eyes. “Since your barely veiled Arthurian legend wedding vows.”

Hans blinked. “What?”

“I suspected before,” she continued, tone even. “But that… confirmed it. Though, truthfully, I knew the day before the wedding.”

Hans stared at her, slack-jawed. “You’ve known all this time?”

“Yes.”

“And you never said anything?”

“No.” She shrugged. “While you were pacing halls, wringing your hands, fearing scandal, I was getting on with life. Making what happiness I could. Without fear of judgment. Perhaps,” she added pointedly, “you might try the same.”

Hans was stunned silent.

Jikta leaned against the wall, inspecting her nails. “Marriage to a man more interested in his guard than his wife? Pleasant, really. I could’ve been married to some drooling lord twice my age, constantly forcing his rights. You, Hans, are a vastly preferable outcome. For that, I’m grateful.”

Hans laughed, short and breathless. “I thought I was failing you.”

She looked up, eyes sharp but not unkind. “You’re doing what you can, Hans. That’s more than many.”

He nodded slowly, something heavy in his chest lifting.

As Jikta turned to leave, she added over her shoulder, “Don’t forget the belladonna. And enjoy your hunting trip.”

Hans returned to the guest room, finding Henry already packing, balm tucked into his satchel. Hans watched him a moment—steady, resilient, real—and felt a strange, rare thing.

Maybe he wasn’t failing everyone. Maybe he was just living. Doing his best.

And for now, that would be enough.

[osleeplessflowero]

I figured it's time to bring back Classic Sans for a oneshot. Haven't posted about him since Stargazing! My very first Sans oneshot and Undertale oneshot as a whole. - Reader is Gender Neutral as always! Their SOUL type is up to you. - This is a good way to tie these oneshots to another series of mine :)

It's quiet..before a breeze fills your ears. Your senses are overloaded with sound. Soon you can feel the breeze too, gently hitting your skin as you slowly open your eyes and move your hands over the grass beneath you.

How long had you been asleep? What happened? Did you miss anything? Your head is spinning..

A familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts softly, calmly. Just like he always does.

"heya. glad to see you're back." He greets you with a smile once you look over, just as he always does. You can't help but smile too. Sitting up, you scoot a bit closer to him and abruptly drop your head on his shoulder, to his surprise. "woah there, what's this all about?" He raises a browbone as he looks down at you, feeling your arm move behind his back so you can awkwardly hug him.

"How long was I asleep?" You ask, getting straight to the point. He looks back up, focusing on the rising sun before the two of you. "not much time has passed here since you fell asleep. or, i guess you could say we fell asleep, huh?" He chuckles. "guessing you've had lots of opportunities to explore. i couldn't imagine doing all that."

"..Yeah." You think about places you've been, your consciousness moving about through different timelines and possibilities. It is only right here, in this space, that you can truly remember things..and where you originally came from. You've certainly seen a lot of interesting figures recently. All of them being different variants of Sans, and even his brother, Papyrus. The same two, just..in various different fonts.

"it's kinda weird, when i think about it." You turn to look at him. "how there's so many other mes just..hangin' around in other timelines. that even the smallest decision can make an entirely new form, a new me. up to the point where..it's like i'm a whole other person. they're sorta..physical "what if"s. aaand prove that the timeline theory is real..so..that's complicated. i guess i can see why you like to go see them all. curiosity."

"..Yeah..it's..like a new adventure each time." You earn a nod from him, before you sit up and move so you're in front of him, placing your hands at the sides of his legs. "But..just so we're clear, that doesn't mean I want to see you any less, Sans. You're still you, the original you, that..that I fell for in the beginning." Heat rises to your cheeks, burning even warmer as you watch a shade of blue make its way onto the skeleton's cheekbones to match.

"i mean, i understand if you prefer some variations of me more. i'm not gonna take it personally-" You cut him off, placing your hand on his left cheekbone. He freezes like a deer in the headlights, his eyesockets relaxing a little as he leans into your touch almost instinctively.

"Just because I like to see other outcomes it doesn't mean I'll love you any less. I refuse to leave you behind. I won't leave Paps behind either. I promise."

"seems like a pretty big promise. sure you can keep it?" "I'm absolutely sure." You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his own. "No matter what..you'll always remain in my heart, Sans. The true you, I mean." "why settle for me when you can have so many other mes?" He raises a browbone, a soft smile on his face. "At the end of the day it was the two of you that my heart belonged to first. Nothing will change that." His face is now a prettier, brighter shade of blue..you can't help but smile, seeing him like this.

"You're not making puns." "it's not the time for that." He averts his eyelights, earning a chuckle from you. You lightly tap his cheek. "C'mon..look at me." "i dunno.." "Please?" "what if i fall for you all over again?" You smile. "I'd be alright with that."

He turns his eyelights to you, unable to look away the moment he does. You can hear his breath hitch, the lights shifting into little heart shapes the moment he blinks. "..Can I?..Or would that be too forward?-" You mutter, your face heating up again at the thought. "just get over here, you." He puts his arms around your waist, pulling you a little closer so you can make contact yourself.

You lean forwards, pressing your lips against his teeth..feeling yourself becoming lost in the moment. Your heart pounds in your ears, your faces both madly flushed as you embrace each other's company. Eventually you have to break the kiss for air, softly regaining your breath as he stares at you with admiring eyes. He reaches up his hands, placing them on the sides of your face now. The cool feeling both calms your nerves and makes you even more flushed. "you alright being stuck with me? with us, even?" "Always. Don't ever question that." You smile, earning a grin from him in return as you hear footsteps approaching in the distance.

"There You Two Are! I've Been Looking Everywhere For You!" Papyrus comes to a stop before you, pressing his hands on his hips with his all-too-familiar grin. A few seconds pass before he takes in your states, a smug look crossing his face. "Am I Interrupting Something?"

"nah, you got here just in time. right?" Sans lightly nudges you, earning rapid nods from you in return. If you let him hear your voice tremble or crack you would quite literally die inside.

"so, what's up? something going on?" He asks, putting an arm around you. "I Thought You Might Want To See Our New Neighbors! They Are Quite The Interesting Bunch. And..Oddly Familiar Looking.."

You and Sans give each other a knowing look. "You don't think?.." "awfully convenient timing, universe." "Might as well make a good first impression, huh?"

[runawrites-blog]

Not Part Of The Plan | Ch. 2 / 2 (Boba Fett x Reader)

Summary: The mission to rescue Han got uncovered and now you have to try and escape while also dealing with your complicated feelings for Boba. During the planned execution of Luke and Han, things go horribly wrong. (Female Reader) Word Count: 4,987 Warnings: Jabba's Palace Typical Violence, Arguments, Breaking-Up and Making-Up, Presumed Character Death (Boba), Angst, Protective Boba, No Y/N, Pet Names (Mesh'la, Cyar'ika) A/N: Unlike on AO3, I will post it in two parts instead of several chapters here. All but the last part takes place during Return Of The Jedi and the last part takes place Post Mandalorian Season 2 -- the Time Skip is marked to avoid confusion. Also while the Reader is Han's sister, her appearance is not described and they could be seen as half-siblings, so her ethnicity, height, weight and such are up to you to imagine! Have fun! Previous Chapter: https://runawrites-blog.tumblr.com/post/765792752807051264/not-part-of-the-plan-ch-12-boba-fett-x Cross-Posted On AO3 (in 6 Chapters): https://archiveofourown.org/works/36209275/chapters/90261490

---

Your escape not going according to plan was really no surprise with all the people that were sneaking around the palace, trying to bring Jabba any information and gain his favour. And the fact that after Leia had been discovered, you were found to be an accomplice didn’t really surprise you either. Now Han was sitting in a cell, you and Leia were chained up by Jabba’s throne and there was no sight of help.

But the worst had been that Jabba had sent you out as a pleasure slave to Boba that night and things did not go well. Not that you had expected a good outcome after Boba had found out that you had actually just been undercover to scout out the place – it wasn’t a far fetch for him to think that you had been using him all along. So when you were forced inside his rooms, not as his lover anymore but as someone he undoubtedly hated now, and his angry gaze fell onto you, the door shutting behind you felt like a cell’s door rattling shut.

“Why would he send you out of all people? He knows of our past and of what you’ve done!” Boba hissed angrily, glaring down at you in understandable anger. “I would have prefered anyone else over you right now.”

Although that statement hurt you knew that you were not in the position to get upset at his words. But that didn’t stop the tears that rose in your eyes. Boba just scoffed at you and shook his head before coming closer.

“Don’t you have anything to say in your defence?”

“He’s my brother.” You tried to reason, not daring to look up at him as you kept your eyes trained at the floor, fighting off the shivers that tried to make their way up your body at the cold stone underneath your bare feet. “I couldn’t stand by while he was being displayed in the palace, frozen in carbonite.”

“And you thought it necessary to use me for your plan?”

“I didn’t--”

“Don’t try to come up with an excuse now.” Boba snapped at you. “What use was I for you? Help me understand!”

You swallowed at his anger and shook your head. “No, I didn’t use you for anything! I was sent to scout out the place and find Han, but I didn’t need-- I didn’t need you for that. What I-- My feelings for you are real!”

“Why would I believe you?”

You tried your best not to let your tears fall at this situation but the tears felt so close to falling. You knew he wasn't going to hurt you and you were aware that he was rightfully upset with you but the fact that there was most likely no hope of ever gaining his love back hurt you terribly. He had told you that he had cared for you, had shown you that he really had feelings for you, had protected you and you had betrayed his trust. Boba hated you and it hurt you so terribly much.

“You-- I can’t give you a reason to-- to believe me.” You said, swallowing against the lump in your throat but a few tears still rolled down your cheeks. “But I’m telling the truth! I came here to-- to free my brother but there was a delay in our mission, so-- so I had to stay longer and while I was waiting for them I fell in love with you.”

Boba was watching you in silence and when you looked up you saw the frown on his face. Though now it was less angry and more confused than anything. But he wasn’t speaking, just watching the tears start to cascade down your cheeks.

“I know you distrust me and I know you must hate me now but-- but I just-- I really do care for you!” You pleaded quietly, bringing up your hands to grasp at your upper arms and shield yourself from the cold. “I know you’d rather have anyone but me here but-- but Jabba sent me anyway. If you’ll let me, I’ll just wait out the night until I-- until someone comes to get me in the morning.”

“You’re cold.”

Before you even had the time to confirm his suspicion, he’d turned and grabbed a blanket from his bed. In a smooth motion, he threw it around your shoulders and you quickly caught it before it fell. Confusion painted your face as more tears gathered in your eyes, though this time they were brought on by how touched you were that he still seemed to care for your wellbeing.

“No one will come to get you until the morning.” He stated calmly before he began to move around and throw a few of the bed’s pillows onto the sofa by the window. “You can stay.”

“Thank you.”

“Just take the sofa and try to warm yourself up. I may not trust you anymore and I’d be a fool to do so again, but that doesn’t mean my feelings were just snuffed out.” As if to undermine his point he began to extinguish the lights in the room. “Tomorrow, Jabba will decide what will happen to your brother.”

“Do you-- He sent that woman who betrayed him to the Great Pit of Carkoon a week or two ago. Do you think he will do the same to my brother?”

“Possibly.” Boba shrugged and went over to sit on his bed, finally looking back at you. “There’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I didn’t even get to talk to him again.” You whispered sadly. “I haven’t spoken to him in years and-- and I just-- Leia freed him and then he was immediately taken away.”

“That’s his own fault for not paying Jabba back.” Boba said before lying down on the bed and eyeing you with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. “I suggest you rest now. Someone will pick you up in the morning.”

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

“Just be quiet and rest.” He huffed before shutting off the last lamp and plunging the room into darkness. “You’ve got me to care for you. I still do.”

“I care for you, as well, Boba.”

“That makes no difference and you know it.”

“I do.”

---

“He is my brother!”

Boba gave a sharp tug to the chain Jabba had placed around your neck. Once more, the Hutt had sent you out to serve Boba who was on the upper deck of the sail barge. From up on top of the barge, you had the perfect view of the pit below the barge that Luke and Han would soon be thrown into. But at the tug you turned back to Boba behind you, watching him shake his head.

“There is nothing you can do. Just be glad you’re not thrown in after him.”

Panic rose in you as you grabbed onto the railing at the side of the sail barge and looked down at the Sarlacc with abject horror. After hearing Threepio translate what would happen to your brother and your friend down there, you were horrified. Thousands of years of torture for both Han and Luke, and there was nothing to be done now. You grabbed the chain and pulled at it once, gaining Boba’s attention.

“Can I not try to talk to him?”

“You tried that before.” Boba said sternly. “You tried to talk to him, tried to bribe him and nothing made a difference. If you try reasoning with him again, he might just throw you into the pit after all.”

“I don’t care.” You begged, grabbing onto the chain tightly. “Let me try.”

“I will not be responsible for you being executed!”

“I couldn’t even say goodbye to the only family I have.”

“That happens.”

Then Luke was moved into position and your grip on the railing tightened, breath catching in your throat. Han had been there for your for as long as you could remember and ever since you’d gotten to meet Luke, the two of you had become close friends, as well. The thought of them inside the Sarlacc’s guts was entirely too horrible to imagine. You couldn’t even imagine how Leia must be doing inside the sail barge. At the very least you weren’t with Jabba at the moment. But still, your fingers began to shake as you felt your throat tighten with anxiety.

“Look away.”

Boba’s voice ripped you from your thoughts and you saw that he stepped closer to the railing out of the corner of your eye, now also looking over the edge. When you eyed him for a second, the confusion on your face must have been evident because he spoke up again.

“I will tell you when it’s over if you wish to look away.”

But you couldn’t and as Luke jumped off the ledge you reflexively grabbed Boba’s arm next to you, needing someone to stabilise you. Then all hell broke loose and Luke pretty dramatically jumped up onto the cargo skiff again, catching the lightsaber Artoo had thrown him – you hadn’t even noticed the astromech coming onto the upper deck.

And just like that Luke was fighting them, hitting men left and right as a commotion broke loose. At your side, you saw Boba move, readying himself to fly down and stop the escape. But Lando noticed his movements and with the blaster, he had obtained during the fight, he managed to fire at Boba without the bounty hunter taking notice.

In a fraction of a second, you had decided that although you wanted everyone to escape, you also couldn’t let Boba get hurt and you quickly tackled him to the floor, both of you watching as the blaster’s beam shot over your bodies.

Once you noticed that you were lying on top of Boba, you quickly got back to your feet and looked over the railing to check if everyone was still alive. As your eyes found the skiff again, you saw that Luke had noticed you pushing the bounty hunter out of harm’s way and he threw you an understandably confused look, questioning why you would save the man. But then his attention was drawn back to another attacker and he turned away again, kicking him off the skiff.

“You saved me.” Boba’s voice ripped you out of your thoughts and when you turned he was coming closer, head tilted slightly to the side. “Why would you save me?”

“I still care about you.”

Boba stalled for a second before pulling you closer and tilting your chin up with his thumb. “I have a job to do. I will come back for you, Mesh’la.”

And with that he was off down to the skiff, leaving you behind on the sailing barge. You looked around, unsure of what to do when you saw a nearby guard getting ready to shoot at Lando who was now hanging off the side of the skiff, nearly falling into the pit himself. Quickly, you grabbed your chain and swung it at his ankle, effectively knocking him to the floor with the force of the metal. He dropped his blaster and you swooped in to get it. When he grabbed for a weapon at his belt you shot the man and then took a step back, watching two more guards come up the ladder.

While you managed to shoot one of them, the other managed to get a grip on you and pushed you toward the railing of the barge, attempting to throw you overboard and into the Sarlacc pit below. You had unfortunately dropped the blaster and he was physically stronger than you, completely putting his weight into pushing you over, so panic soon began to rise in you.

The chains rattling at your feet sparked an idea in you. Quickly you grabbed for the chain, careful not to let him notice, and wrapped it around the railing before taking a deep breath and letting yourself fall over the edge. The guard fell with you but unlike you, he had nothing to hold onto and tumbled right down into the pit. You held onto the chain tightly as the guards tried to reach you from the windows below.

And on top of that, another guard was up on the platform now, reaching for his blaster and aiming at you. But before he could shoot, a blaster beam hit him and he fell over the railing, just missing you as he tumbled into the pit below.

Swearing quietly you looked down, expecting Chewbacca or Luke to have fired at the man, but to your surprise, you found that it had been Boba, blaster still in hand and shoulders sagging in relief as he saw you had still hung on.

Quickly, you climbed back onto the barge and turned back to see what was going on when you realised Han had hit Boba, making his jet pack malfunction and sending him flying toward the sail barge. He knocked into the side of it and you watched in absolute horror as the man you loved fell into the Sarlacc pit. Tears gathered in your eyes and you felt your breath run cold. Your first instinct was to try and help but logically you knew there was nothing you could do to help. The tears threatened to fall and you had to pull yourself together to continue fighting.

But there was no time for grief at the moment because Lando was almost pulled into the pit by one of the Sarlacc’s tendrils, only saved by Han who was hanging on for dear life himself, Luke was crawling up the barge and an explosion shook the whole structure beneath your feet. You ran to the ladder to see what was going on just as Leia came climbing up, grabbing your hand to pull herself up.

“We need to get off this sail barge.” She urged, running to the railing. “Luke, hurry up! This whole thing is about to blow up!”

You ran after her, quickly extending a hand to help Luke up. “Why are you coming up here? I thought we wanted off this barge!”

“Han is bringing the skiff over.” He explained, readying his lightsaber to fight another guard. “Stand back!”

Everything after that passed in what felt like a fraction of a second. At Luke’s comment, Leia directed the canon at the barge. Han stirred the skiff over, Leia made a jump for it and he just managed to catch her and get her to safety. Then you felt Luke wrap an arm around you before he grabbed a rope and gave a kick to the canon, making it fire at the barge. You hung onto him tightly, pleading with him not to let you drop into the pit below. But fortunately, you soon found yourself safely on the skiff, just as the barge blew up and Lando stirred you all to safety.

“Han!” You exclaimed as soon as the shock had passed and hurried to embrace him. “Are you okay? Can you see again?”

“Yeah, I can see. I mean I managed to shoot the Sarlacc.” He joked and hugged you for a few seconds. “Are you injured? I saw you hanging off the barge. Did you get hurt?”

“No.” You shook your head and let go, looking him up and down. “I can’t believe you’re back! I’m glad you’re feeling better. That night Leia got you out and they brought you to your cell, you looked like hell.”

“Thanks.” Han said in amusement before shaking his head. “It takes a toll on you to be frozen in carbonite. But I’m fine now.”

“I’m glad.”

“I hope Lando watched out for you while I was gone. I heard Jabba sent you to Boba Fett of all people. He didn’t touch you, did he?”

You stilled for a second, feeling Leia’s eyes on you and seeing Lando raise an eyebrow at you from next to Han. Even Luke looked at you suspiciously. But you just shook your head, giving Han a comforting smile and ignoring your grief as you lied to him.

“No, he didn’t touch me.”

---Time-Skip---

“We have a guest.”

You looked up at Leia and shushed her, not wanting to disturb Luke and Grogu. But she shook her head and came closer, pulling you away by the arm. You’d been busy watching Luke train Grogu for the past few hours, fascinated by the child’s powers. Once Leia had you far enough away, she lowered her voice.

“He’s here to pick up Grogu so he can spend some time with his father.” Leia explained. “You should go and tell our guest that Luke might take a bit longer.”

“Why me? Can’t you do it?”

“It’s someone you know.”

“I know a lot of people.” You mumbled in confusion, not really understanding why the person talking to whoever Din had sent needed to be you. “You have to be a bit more specific than that.”

“It’s Boba Fett.”

Your mouth fell open at that and you had to manually reach up to close it before you shook your head in disbelief. “No, he-- he died. I saw him fall into that-- into the Sarlacc pit with my own eyes!”

“It’s either him or someone that stole his armour.” Leia shrugged. “But Din said that Boba Fett would come to pick Grogu up because he himself couldn’t make it. So either way, it would be great if you could come and verify that it’s really him.”

“Why would you want me to verify that it’s Boba who came to pick Grogu up and not some impostor?”

“None of us ever saw him without the helmet, so you need to verify it.”

You shook your head quickly, not wanting to give away your past with Boba to her, even though you were sure she’d had some ideas on it. “What makes you think I saw him without it?”

Leia rolled her eyes lightly at that and shook her head. “I know you’ve slept with him while you were at Jabba’s palace. I saw the way he kept you close to his side, the way he protected you. And Luke told me that you saved him from Lando’s shot, so I know you actually cared about him. If anyone has seen him without the helmet, it’s you.”

“Fine.”

And with that, Leia was off and you close behind. Your heart was rising into your throat with every step you took. It couldn’t be Boba – you had seen him die. You had mourned him all alone, only occasionally getting a sympathetic glance from Luke or Lando. Yet still, you hoped that against the odds the man in his armour was really him. So when you arrived at the doors to the landing dock, you stopped dead in your tracks when through the windows to the room you saw Boba’s armour again, no longer looking as beat up as before but painted over and polished up.

“I’m getting Luke and Grogu. You confirm if it’s really him.”

You nodded absentmindedly as Leia left and then you opened the door. They swished open and the man turned to you, hands reaching for his blaster before quickly dropping when he saw that it was you. Slowly, you approached and tried to resist the urge to run into his arms. You needed to confirm if it was him first so you knew Grogu would be safe.

“You’ve come to pick up the child.” You said quietly, looking at his visor in anticipation. “Take off the helmet, so I can confirm who you are.”

Without another word, he reached to his head and unfastened the helmet, slowly taking it off and your breath stopped. It was Boba. He looked scarred, his face burned by the Sarlacc’s acid but it was Boba. It was unmistakenly him – his eyes, his face, his lips. And the smile he gave at your awe was also unmistakenly his.

“Mesh’la, did you not believe it was me?”

“How?” You whispered, tears gathering in your eyes. “How are you alive?”

“Told you I would come back or you.”

And with that, you launched yourself into his arms, your own wrapping around his neck as you clung to him. The tears fell from your eyes freely as he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, his face falling into your neck where he took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke again.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come back for you.”

“I can’t believe that it’s you.” You sobbed out quietly before pulling back and taking his face into your hands. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”

“I made you a promise, Cyar’ika.” He said softly, his hands dropping to your hips to hold you close. “And I keep what I promise.”

“I am so sorry that I lied to you. I-- I don’t even know how you can come here and give me this much love and-- when I lied to you and--”

“Stop that.” Boba’s hands pulled you closer and he shook his head. “I believe you. I had a lot of time to think it through and I trust you that you didn’t use me, alright? Would you give me another chance after I treated you so harshly?”

“What?” You asked in surprise, eyes going wild. “I lied to you. You had every right to be angry. I should be the one asking you that!”

“I would give you another chance. Will you give me one?”

You nodded quickly before pulling his face down and kissing him deeply, eyes closing as soon as he started kissing back. His arms wrapped around you now, pulling you to his body as he held you. It took all your strength not to burst into tears again as you deepened the kiss and he held you even closer, securely keeping you in his arms. It was only when you heard something being dropped behind you that you pulled apart.

“You have to be kriffing kidding me right now!”

You turned in shock to face Han who had just dropped a box of tools and was now staring at you two in disgust and shock. Before you could explain he was marching over and grabbing Boba by the collar that stuck out from his armour, just for the bounty hunter to grab Han’s wrist and pull it away from his body. But Han’s free hand grabbed the one around his wrist as he glared at Boba.

“You are kissing my sister?”

“If I were you, I would think twice about attacking the man that collected the bounty that was on your head.” Boba hissed, eyes narrowing at Han. “You don’t decide if your sister and I kiss. She decides whether or not she kisses me!”

“Listen, I have no clue how you managed to escape the Sarlacc Pit but if you put your hands on my sister again, I will personally send you back in there!”

To your dismay, a smirk appeared on Boba’s face and you knew he was just going to keep this argument going. “She decides if she kisses me or does other things with me.”

“That was entirely unnecessary, Boba!”

“Other things?” Han snapped, ignoring your complaint as he glared at Boba. “Did you sleep with me kriffing sister, Fett?”

“What about it?”

“Can you two stop it?” You hissed and tried to pull them apart, pulling Han back by his collar while pushing against Boba’s chest to make him step back. “Han, lay off him! And Boba, stop kriffing riling him up even more!”

The two of them remained quiet for a few seconds but after another attempt of yours to pull them apart, they finally separated. Han let go of Boba before turning to you, his shock still evident in his face as he stared at you with wide eyes.

“When did that happen? When did you decide to sleep with Boba Fett?”

“It happened while I was infiltrating the palace and the plan got delayed, forcing me to stay there longer than expected.” You confessed, feeling as though the truth was the only way forward. “We talked a lot and then it just sort of happened.”

“It just happened? Things like that don’t just happen!”

“That’s what I told her!”

You turned to find Lando coming into the docking bay, carrying another toolbox and grinning widely. He obviously wasn’t going to side with you and Chewbacca who was coming inside behind Lando was probably also going to side with Han. But to your surprise, Han didn’t agree with Lando. On the contrary, his face fell even more and he glared at his friend, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You knew?”

“Oh, kriff.” Lando hissed, now realising his mistake. “I promised her not to tell you!”

“He found out by accident.” You explained, eyes flicking back and forth between Han and Lando. “I sort of pleaded with him not to tell you. I knew you’d react like this!”

“I hope that by ‘like this’ you mean in a completely rational way.” Han huffed, crossing his arms as he kept his eyes trained on you. “He’s not a good person!”

Boba looked back at Han at his exclamation. “And you trying to police your sister’s life is something a good person would do? She can make her own decisions!”

“Boba’s right.” You stated, nodding at Han. “I can decide who--”

“You agreeing with him is not surprising at all.” Han huffed and turned to Lando. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me!”

Lando just shrugged at that. “I figured there was no reason to after he fell into the Great Pit of Carkoon. I thought she’d never see him again anyway.”

You eyed Lando, nodding at his words as the memory of that day and the horror you’d felt resurfaced. “So did I. I never told you after the fact because-- well, because I thought he was dead.”

Upon hearing about your grief, Boba came closer and put a hand on your back in an attempt to comfort you. “I came back, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” You nodded, giving him a small smile. “I’m glad you did.”

Han shook his head once more, pointing at Boba’s hand. “Get your hands off her!”

Boba glared back at him, bringing his other hand up to put it onto your shoulder now, effectively riling Han up even more. “That’s not your decision to make.”

“I can’t believe you!”

“All of you, cut it out!”

You felt yourself relax at Leia’s voice and looked up to find her coming into the loading dock, Luke in tow who was holding Grogu in his arms. If anyone would be able to tell Han to back down, it was her. She eyed the situation before coming closer, noting Han’s accusing finger still pointed at Boba and sighed quietly.

“So it really is Boba Fett?”

You nodded at her. “Yes, it really is him and not an impostor.”

“Good.” Leia nodded, looking at Han. “Then what seems to be the problem?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Han asked in exasperation, clearly annoyed that Leia wasn’t freaking out over this. “He slept with my sister and he’s being so-- so kriffing smug about it.”

Leia nodded at that, looking back at you. “Do you mind him touching you? Is he doing anything against your will?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t see the problem.”

“What?” Han shook his head and looked at his girlfriend. “And why are you not more surprised? Did you-- You knew!”

“I figured it out pretty quickly.” Leia nodded and sighed. “Listen, things have changed, alright? And Din sent him here, so he must be somewhat trustworthy. Besides that, your sister is an adult, Han.”

Han sighed in defeat and looked at you. “I just wish you would choose someone nice.”

“I am nice.” Boba stated from behind you, raising an eyebrow at Han and to your surprise, your brother gave a dry laugh at that.

“You stole my line.”

“See? She’s fine. And I’m pretty sure she can stand her ground.” Leia then looked at Boba again, pointing a finger at him. “If you mess up, though, I will personally come for you, am I making myself clear?”

“More than clear.”

Han sighed quietly and shook his head in dismay. “I can’t believe both Leia and Lando knew, and neither of them told me.”

That’s when Luke gave an awkward wave behind Leia. “I knew, as well.”

“How come everyone knew, but me? Chewie, did you know?” A roar from the Wookie confirmed Han’s suspicions and he groaned in exasperation. “I can’t believe it!”

“Are you good now?” You asked, reaching up to put your hand over Boba’s. “I promise you that he treats me well. I appreciate your worry but he’d never hurt me. Trust me.”

“I trust you.”

You smiled at that, leaning back into Boba who brought an arm around your waist then. He looked down at you, not paying any mind to your brother or friends. “You could come to deliver the child to Din with me.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“She says that as if she was ever any good with sticking to plans.” Leia joked.

Luke shook his head and approached, Grogu held close to him, before he gave Leia a smirk. “To be fair, some of our plans did fail tremendously.”

Han just gave a small laugh at that, watching as you gently took Grogu from Luke and turned to Boba, quietly discussing something with Boba. Before entering Slave I, you gave Han a small wave and then left to buckle up the child. But before Boba could follow you, Han called out to him once more, making him look up in question.

“Treat her right, you Buckethead.”

[thisbuildinghasfeelings]

FINAL PREDICTIONS

Here are my final predictions for where each character will end up as the series comes to an end! I mostly believe that things are going to be ending happily for everyone. This is at least somewhat informed by a September interview with Rashad where he said their goal was to give us an "incredibly satisfying" ending that will give the audience the feeling "that we are leaving all of these people right where they should be at the end of their journeys." (More recently, Rashad has been hyping the possibility of characters dying, but he's never actually said with 100% certainty that a main character would die.) I may be too optimistic here, but WE'LL SEE.

If anyone wants to discuss, my ask box is open! Tell me your predictions!

TK—quits his job, adopts Jonah, happily ever after with his husband and

Carlos—adopts Jonah, happily ever after with his family 🥰

I think during the final episode he will be helping out at dispatch in some way, but there probably won't be any additional major events for him to end the series with, aside from becoming a dad.

Owen—There are 2 possible options, but he leaves his job regardless.

Option #1: He takes the New York job as planned.

Option #2: He gets offered a similar job in Austin.

I’m leaning towards Option #2 at this point because it felt like they were setting him up to change his mind. However, I don't feel entirely confident.

Tommy—did not die at the end of episode 11, suits up for what she'll believe to be the last time to help out post-asteroid, but will discover by the end that miraculously her cancer isn’t as bad as the doctor thought and she’s going to be ok.

Maybe the scan was read wrong. Maybe it was just swelling and the swelling went down. Maybe she goes in for another check and her tumor shrunk. I don't know. But if she isn’t dead now, I really doubt they’re going to kill her at all. She basically already had a death scene, so I don’t think they would do what would amount to killing her off twice in the span of two episodes! I feel fairly confident about this.

I guess there's also the possibility that they'll leave it open, since Rashad did say that they left some doors open to continue. If that's the case, I imagine that they will leave us with Tommy at least doing well enough that we can imagine her cancer quickly goes into remission.

Judd—becomes captain of the 126 when Owen takes a new job.

Maybe there will be a mention about Grace coming home soon, or maybe that will be left open since they did have a slight hope for a season 6 renewal as they were finishing up. They wouldn’t have known whether Sierra would be able to be part of that at the time they were filming, so they might not have wanted to promise Grace's imminent return.

Mateo—2 options: he either dies or has an NDE. If he survives, he won't be deported.

Leaning towards NDE right now based on some things said in interviews and just the general feeling that it would be too depressing to kill him partway through the final episode.

If he survives, I feel pretty sure he won’t actually be deported, so that just leaves the question of how he gets out of that. One possibility is that he and Nancy get married (even though this definitely wouldn’t stop deportation in real life). It seems like they probably brought up Nancy’s opposition to marriage for a reason. That reason could have been to set up Nancy changing her mind after Mateo almost dies…I think this is possible, but I don’t know if it’s most likely. They also may have brought it up simply to answer potential viewer questions if the general audience started to wonder why they didn’t just get married to stop the deportation.

Another possibility could be that they decide not to go through with the deportation after Mateo and the rest of the 126 save the city. This is again not something that would likely happen in real life, but it seems like something that could happen in the Lone Star universe. I think this would probably be my preferred outcome.

Nancy—Potentially marrying Mateo, if not then probably happily ever after in a long-term relationship with Mateo and as a member of the 126.

Since we see Tommy in captain dress uniform in BTS, Nancy probably won't be captain anymore at the end of the series, but I assume she would be poised to take over for Tommy when Tommy eventually retires.

Or if Mateo dies, Nancy will have a bittersweet ending mourning the man she loves yet still being part of the 126.

Paul—maybe a little more with Jax and then a happy ending as part of the 126.

Marjan—I think Marjan basically already got her happy ending in episode 10 so probably there won’t be any major new developments with her. Like Paul, it will probably just be a happy ending as part of the 126.

[minairentaraa]

Games and the male perspective

So I want to say that I'm playing with online games, MMORPGs since I was 13. I started with runestone, than followed up with years of WoW. Then there was a big space because I started the high school and the university and didn't really have time for games.

Than I started again with the Witcher 3, and then I got my PS4 and so on and so on and so on. ...

But. I have many friends who also played with the Witcher 3.

I said previously that I can really identify myself with Yen, because I am too will have what I want whatever it takes, I am selfish and sarcastic and I won't ever coddle a manchild. Also the beauty part is what really got me in her story.

However most men on my life who also played this game would choose Triss. Who in this game is mostly just a little beautiful red haired lamb, without much of an invonvenient word to Geralt. And most man want this. A little lamb who will go trough hell for them without any hesitation.

So this is red flag N.o. 1. for me. If they would choose the little lamb in a game, then they would not prefer a relationship with me. And it's true, I tried. Not once. The results were the same.

But, and this is maybe a spoiler about a game, even if it's years old, is the Bloody Baron questline and the Hearts of Stone expansion.

The first one is, the Baron is a drunkard who beats his wife. Not his child tough, but.. yeah. His wife miscarried because of his beatings, and then you have a botchling (which will hunt down pregnant woman and eat their fetuses). I nearly cried. He is fully responsible for this. I will always choose the line where he will meet his fate, rather sooner than later.

And there are man who will defend him. Because "he is sorry" "he regret that" "he doesn't deserve to h*ng himself". Yeah... maybe if your reality would also contain an outcome of a drunken husband beating you to shit, to the point where you have a miscarriage, and you need to fled his house and he will still want you back and use every man in his power to search for you, maybe you wouldn't be so generous with your forgiveness. But it doesn't. And you doesn't even try to understand it.

The Hearts of Stone expansion is really lifelike as well - a man who sold their soul to the devil (capitalism), to be the richest man and became cold in the process. Everyday life for workaholic husbands and housewives. In this case the wife became a wraith in her grief if I remember correctly.

At the end of the questline you have an option to - after what he did to her - save him from the Devil (I like that guy), or kill him, because that's the contract you got from Gaunter. I of course killed him because 1. that was the contract 2. he isn't someone I would feel sympathy for after all he did. And guuuuuuys, these guys will save him.

Because that's what their reality is. Always asking for forgiveness, never acting different. They will be glad to save someone who they can become as well. And they don't ever look at the suffering of a woman beside them, because in their mind if you feel sorry, than everything will be alright and can be forgiven.

That isn't the truth. Your sorry ass could never do anything to help in these traumatic situations which you would choose to do, consciously, in the first place. Because becoming drunk is a choice. Beating my wife is a choice. Choosing work and money over and over and over against my wife is a choice. Becoming cold is a choice.

So girls, if you ever hear someone talk about this game and their choices, just know what this means. Also these people who would forgive these characters were either cruel in real life too, or just a fu*king waste of time because of their helplessness to make anything out of their life.

[tryandbehappy]

erictuchman last comment under Carey (Rose) instagram post “in the 609 hospital scene. Turns out Rose is a Carey, just wrote on Joe's post how great you are stealth weapon with real power and influence over Nick. Never underestimate a Wharton!”

fuck them all.. for ruining Nick’s character and ending him like that.. he could at least sacrificed himself for June, one last time, i would have preferred it this way…

i’m interested to see the last episode.. maybe we will get more info…or maybe a letter from nick.. 😓

Yes, I feel this so deeply. It’s honestly just cruel because the point they seem to be making is that Nick wanted so badly to overcome his love for June that he married someone else… but then they made that wife the daughter of a High Commander, which can easily be interpreted as a power grab.

All those moments where he seemed honest and sincere when he told Rose about June, none of that matters now. Because on the flip side, they’ve left it open for viewers to say: “Well, maybe he married a unhealthy woman, a daughter of Wharton just to be closer to power.”

And now, in retrospect, if we remove the nuance of how Max acted those scenes and just look at the events, he became a Commander, went to war, married Rose all of that can be reinterpreted. Either as part of some deeper plan to do good or at least had to do those things, or (now, thanks to that ending) as signs that he was power-hungry, selfish, and cowardly.

Because they gave us a clear-cut conclusion: Nick is bad. He saw the monsters around him, his bloodthirsty wife, his sadistic father-in-law he witnessed everything up close. And in that moment, when Gilead is falling apart, when it’s the perfect time to defect, to finally escape… he chooses to stay. He chooses darkness. That was his final choice.

And now every past action can be twisted to fit that outcome. They didn’t give us an open ending. They didn’t leave things ambiguous or complex. They gave us a verdict.

Maybe in the finale they’ll toss us a flashback, or a scene through June’s perspective that lets us grieve a little, I wouldn’t be surprised if they use him one last time. But even if they do, it won’t fix this. Not really.

[qfzeeph]

People liked the first Kaito x Reader post I made, so lets say, hypothetically, I made a part 2. And for the sake of debate, lets say that it was about him having a lil' crushy crush on the reader >:)

♡Kaito (Vocaloid) x Reader/Master HCs [2]♡

♡All fluff. No spice!♡ ♡Kaito is crushing on the reader!♡

☆ He won’t outright say he’s got a crush on you, but there will be signs. He’s shy about it, worried you’ll think of him differently if you were to find out how he felt.

☆Kaito has been down this path before with other Masters who have gotten bored of him in the past. He hopes that if anything ever came of the two of you, it’d last. He’s simultaneously nervous and yearning at the same time, afraid of the worst outcome but praying for the best.

☆ He tries to spend as much time with you as he can, learning about your favorite things and what makes you yourself. He’s a quick learner and before you know it, he’s gifting you little things like your favorite snacks or candies when you’re having a rough day.

☆He flusters real easy. Any sort of accidental contact, be it bumping into him in a crowded space or your hands grazing one another when reaching for a treat, his face lights up bright red. He always apologizes, hoping you won’t notice his flushed cheeks. You see it every time. ☆In case you couldn’t tell, he’s not the best at hiding it. He might not outright say how he feels, but you can tell from every move he makes he’s into you.  ☆You see more of him. Much more of him. He wants to be around you as much as he can, chasing that serotonin only you can give him.

☆He puts a lot of extra effort into the songs you ask him to sing, the more intense his feelings develop the more effort he puts in. He wants to be his best for you, hoping you’ll catch on. ☆His heart melts if you compliment him. He’d stutter out a nervous “thank you,” as if he had forgotten how to speak.  ☆He’d eventually get brave and confess. Unless you beat him to it, he’ll be the one to tell you. Not because he’s any less nervous, but because keeping it to himself would become too much to bear. Of course he’ll be a shaking nervous wreck, but once he starts his onslaught of praise for you he’ll loosen up and put his entire soul into it. He wants you to know how special you are to him and how much it would mean to him if you were to return his affection.

☆If it ended up you two were smitten, he’d be overjoyed. Expect a barrage of light kisses and hugs on the spot the minute you tell him you’ve felt the same way the whole time.

☆If his confession caught you off guard, he’d hope you’d at least give him a chance. He’d understand if you didn’t despite the fact it’d sting like hell for him, but he’d hold out for the best outcome either way.

☆If YOU were the one who approached him to tell him, he wouldn’t know how to respond at first! He’s wanted this so bad, but he never expected you’d be the one to come to him. Of course he’d tell you he loves you too, but not without short circuiting out of pure joyful shock first. 

☆Bonus:☆

☆L/N: You thought normal Kaito was shy about his feelings. L/N Kaito is worse. This man is mortified to speak to you and prefers to fawn over you from a distance. You’re going to have to be the one to catch him and lay all your tender feelings on him. Once you have him though, he’ll gradually start to open up to you and only you. ☆WxS: He’s always trying to impress you, whether it be magic tricks, voice impressions, monologues from a play, or some sort of crazy stunt Miku taught him. He’s planning on asking you out via a magic act, by the way. ☆VBS: Everytime you see him, he’s either got a new brew of coffee for you to try, a baked good he made himself for you to taste, or a new mix for you to listen to. You’re his motivation! There was never a formal confession, but a touching of hands on the DJ board one day when he was showing you how he makes his music and a heat-of-the-moment peck on the lips after that sealed the deal for the two of you. ☆MMJ: You’re a distraction. A lovely, lovely, distraction. He can’t get any stagehand work done when you’re around, or when you’re on his mind. If only he wasn’t so busy, he could talk to you more. If you offer to help him with his handiwork, you may just get him to slip up and tell you how he really feels. ☆N25: Good luck. He’s a proud one, and isn’t going to drop the act for anyone. Except for you of course, when you’re alone and there’s nobody else around to see him. He’s honest with himself and you regarding his feelings, and he’s just as passionate as he is irritable. He loves aggressively, but not so much as to break your boundaries. You belong to him, but in the best possible way.

...cool fun fact. I've been trying to write a fic of N25 Kai and it keeps uh. going in an interesting direction. I had to put it down for a little bit because some life stuff came up but if I ever get around to finishing it, lord have mercy on all of you. anyway, thanks for readin' and I hope you enjoyed <3

[once-in-a-blue-moon-rising]

I've been thinking recently that the reason that a decent chunk of Squid Game character analysis doesn't hit quite right for me* is because people don't necessarily look at the characters through the lens of the show's larger metaphors, which for a show like this, I think is essential.

Let me give you an example.

Recently I've seen a little bit of pushback against the idea of Gi-hun becoming the Frontman, or becoming part of the games in some other position of power.

And let me be clear, I really do understand where people are coming from on this, given that Gi-hun is essentially the human representation of the goodness in humanity and/or the struggle against an unjust system. I also don't actually think that this is the way that HDH will end the show - Squid Game is dark, and grim, but there is an underlying optimism that this type of ending would seemingly (more on this later) crush.

However, I personally think that people who object to the possibility of it happening on the grounds that it would be OOC, or a wild unprecedented plot twist, are maybe not exploring the metaphors of the show deeply enough and/or just looking at Gi-hun as a character independent of his environment.**

The show shows us pretty clearly that the ideal outcome - the outcome that Gi-hun openly wants, too - is for the games to be stopped, and for people to stop being exploited. We all agree on this.

But we've also been shown - so far - that hasty, violent decisions are not necessarily productive in achieving that aim. This, I think, as many things in the show do, mirrors real life, and is a whole other debate which I do not have time for in this post, but is essentially this: I can go out tomorrow, and I can firebomb an institution that I disagree with. It sends a message. It may inspire others. But it may also land me in jail, or get me killed, and in either case, I will no longer be useful in the fight against that institution, and it will (probably) survive my attack. It may even use my attack to prove its own moral superiority (already In-ho is trying to do this with the 'did you enjoy playing the hero?' line).

But, maybe, if I was able to go into politics, into the system itself, I could take some smaller steps, which, over time, could improve things. Could take down this system which I want to dismantle. Of course, I would also be part of the upholding of the system in the meantime, and I might have to compromise on some things in order to move forward with others, but perhaps what I did achieve would be longer lasting. Perhaps I could ensure that I continued actively fighting for change, instead of being rendered useless.

Now, I don't pretend to know which is the best way forward, either in real life or in the show, and it doesn't really matter in this analysis, anyway. Both methods have flaws, and both are limited because they exist within a system which does not want to be destroyed.

But, to me, the second option - the political option - is legitimate, regardless of whether it's your preferred method of defiance. And that's what a Frontman Gi-hun would be. He would still symbolise that defiance and that hope, but he would be working towards his goal in a very different way. He would be working from inside the system, with the express goal of dismantling it from within. If anyone could achieve it, he could.

As I say - I don't think Gi-hun becoming the Frontman is what's going to happen in canon for a number of reasons. It's a 'slow and steady wins the race'-type method of defiance, which isn't super exciting, and which also might be hard to really bring home with only six episodes to go. It isn't super in line with Gi-hun being a canonical gambling addict, and for those viewers who don't enjoy writing hundreds of words of analysis, it might seem to give a more pessismistic message than HDH wants.

However, I also don't think it's an outlandish, jarring theory, and I think to say it is, is to ignore the fact that there are many ways to defy an oppressive system, and that to remain morally pure - to accept no part in said system - might not always be the best way to fight it.

*obviously this objectively doesn't matter, I do realise that other people's fandom content is not for me specifically!

** if it's just personal taste then this post is 100% not about that