#maybe it’s his selfishness????? not sure

[seewetter]

There's multiple things going on in the last goethefaustworld comment:

The first part reveals a lack of understanding of how economic processes work. Rich people are not simply rich, they continuously earn heaps of money. The idea that imposing a steep tax on rich people would "run the well dry" so-to-speak is absurd, because the well gets refilled all the time regardless of tax amount.

The second part ("Maybe stop expecting immediate gratification and actually start planning for the future…") indicates a view where anyone who wants the resources of oligarchs to be put to good use is short-sighted(?) and pursuing short-term enjoyment(???). I can't say what goethefaustworld is thinking, but it sounds a bit like an accusation that people who want reliable living standards to be implemented want this because they are uncomfortable contributing work to society and feel entitled to rewards. It's a character assassination of anyone who suggests large-scale improvements to our standard of living. Immediate gratification? If people thought of this as a cool plan to immediately get things for themselves, I think it would be presented and talked about that way. But the real point is that we can vastly reduce the amount of gratification people receive from committing petty crimes by allowing them to live in a society where their basic needs are taken care of. We reduce the gratification people get from being selfish pricks by making sure that being selfish just isn't that tempting or rewarding. I often encounter Christian conservatives that think they are being very wise by arguing against support systems for the poor with exactly this type of argument and I must say I'm appalled that they can criticize the supposed "laziness" of people who don't have to take work from irresponsible and selfish employers but seem to have no problem being lazy at problem-solving the problems of socially disadvantaged people.

The final point goethefaustworld makes is relevant, however. Because while ending homelessness (for example) is far cheaper than treating it, the economic rationale for maintaining homelessness is either quite complex or quite cutthroat. If it was a really cheap solution that would fix the problem forever and vastly cut costs for the rich...they would have implemented it. There is such a thing as capital flight and anyone who wants to change how the world works needs to account for it. However, what goethefaustworld might like to consider is that on the one hand, communication across societal boundaries (between the rich and non-rich, for example) can, at times, bring about positive change and on the other hand, not fixing these problems exacerbates tensions which eventually result in outcomes the rich can't avoid. Right now, fleeing positive reforms might seem like a great idea for rich people...but technically, they are not losing anything meaningful. We could absolutely live in a society that permits Jeff Bezos to own multiple yachts (and all the other tangible things he has or wants) as a perk for signing up for a new society where Jeff Bezos doesn't technically have control over his own money and where his money is spent on improving society. I don't really care that some people have lots of material perks that I don't enjoy. I don't care that I live in a society where acquiring a yacht costs hard work. Sounds good to me! No problem there. No, I'm just bothered by the suffering the rich inflict. The starvation that exists as the outcome of conscious political and economic choices. The genocide carried out against people who don't have enough economic or political power. The environmental devastation (oil spills, deforestation, whatever you want) caused by economic irresponsibility. These people tell you that they are hard working, yet they don't clean up their messes until forced to. Their companies brag about doing good...that the law forces them to and that they didn't do until the law forced them to.

What goethefaustworld seems to not grasp is that planning for the future is something you can only do when you think at scale. Your budget for what you will spend or earn over the next months can be blown away by forces far beyond your personal control. So we need those large, impersonal forces to work for us -- not because we are lazy, but because otherwise we are dead. A big corporation didn't find it profitable to secure their truck properly? Well you'll be displeased to hear that this truck is driving by you when you cross the street tomorrow and there's a fatal accident. You are not lazy, you are not looking for immediate gratification, if you are critical of where money goes and how it is spent. Should money be spent for more tax breaks for the rich? Because otherwise they'll flee the country, "get the heck out of dodge"? Or should we all be in charge of who gets to "get the heck out of dodge" or not? What are these people dodging, exactly? Policies that might help them save money? Policies that prevent other people from dying? Do they get off on people dying, is that why they call attempts at stopping them predatory?

When will people finally grow up and take societal improvement more seriously than a corporate bottom line that is part of an economic competition game where the winner gets money points?

[kaisaerinlover]

michael kaiser

married life

tw: toxic relationship, abusive

you and your (not so) beloved michael kaiser finally decided to tie the knot. well, he decided, and you obliged. because what else are you supposed to do? you wouldn’t ever betray him, everything he wants is what you want too. he has you so well trained, doesn’t he? you went along with it because of how docile you are, how you’re basically putty in his hands. but you also had your own selfish reasoning, but you aren’t ready to admit that to yourself yet. no, you hoped that if you became his wife, maybe, just maybe, the tenderness he sometimes showed would be more common, the nosebleeds he bestowed upon you with his cruel fists would subside, the gentle nature he has somewhere inside of him would come out more often.

unfortunately for you, that’s not how michael kaiser works. and i think you know that too, don’t you? so why do you keep up the hope? you’re a true masochist, and he’s a true sadist. a very dangerous pair. dangerous for you, the one who subjects yourself to kaiser’s brutality willingly (it seems that way these days).

don’t get him wrong, kaiser yearns for love, yearns to be loved, yearns for you to keep on loving him ‘till the very end. and he knows you will, because you don’t have any other choice. michael kaiser is truly a master of his craft, a skilled manipulator and a very intelligent man. and now that you’re his wife, things really became a whole lot easier for him. he knows he has it drilled into your pretty little head that the only thing good for you in this world is him. him, him, him, him, him. pleasing him. loving him. being with him. being so sweet to him after he’s so mean to you.

he loves you and you love him. so why does the love he feels for his cute wife manifest in the most atrocious of ways? you know, he’s always making dumb excuses for why he’s this way. he thought if he was loved he would stop, then he thought if he got a girlfriend he would stop, then he thought that if he married you he would be able to stop too. he’s ran out of excuses now. he’s fucked up, all that psychology he’s polished up on throughout his life, all those books on human traumas and emotions, they should have made him realise what he really needs is the drive to change and a therapist a million times better than the average one. but he’s a little ignorant too, in that sense. or he was, he realises it sometimes, but he ignores it.

and besides, he’s not exactly one to complain about the arrangement you guys have. especially after marriage. you became so much more perfect, he didn’t even know it was possible. you’re the perfect, doting little housewife. and you’re all for him too, so cute, so docile. you like it too, but kaiser made you. you’re a little too stupid, a little too trusting and a lot too in love with kaiser to realise it. if you were just a little bit more intelligent than the girl he first met, he’s sure you would have realised something was seriously up by now. but it’s fine, ‘cause wits were never your strong point, nope, your sweet obedient nature was. and kaiser likes that.

you’re a great housewife. and he’s a great husband, you think. you’re in the kitchen, cleaning up, wearing a sweet little outfit kaiser bought for you. he’s so generous, he doesn’t have to spend money on you, yet he does. isn’t he just the best? so expensive too, he spends his hard earned money on you? isn’t your husband seriously just the best? you’re dressed in a cute vintage style dress, hair tied up into a cute ribbon and a cute pair of slippers and socks to go with it. haha, you don’t even realise it, but you’re playing right into kaiser’s weird fantasy. he always had a thing for housewives, everything. so now he has you dressed as one cleaning the kitchen whilst he’s hard at work. maybe he’s so obsessed with this dynamic because he never had it himself, his mother packed up and left as soon as he was born, of course. and his dad was an abusive sack of shit. fucking bitches. pieces of shit. ah, he’s getting worked up. he shakes off that feeling.

today, he tried to release as much of that pent up rage into the match. and he won, as always. he’s the emperor of the world. he wanted to get out all of his anger, because what he wants more than anything today is to be a normal couple with you. but that’s not going to happen, it never does.

he walks in, “where is mein engel, hm?” he stands waiting at the door, waiting for you to come greet him like you always do. after getting married you established this new routine. and you do come, you come so quickly to him and stand on your tip toes to kiss his cheek oh so lightly. “micha, i missed you sooo much” you bat your eyelashes at him. he has you trained so well, it’s impressive. you’re like some cute puppy, you’re actually incredibly well trained. he thinks he should indulge in this idea some time, he just likes any scenario where you’re completely submitting to him. but he shakes that thought off, he won’t get distracted for too long.

he wraps his arm around your waist and walks you to the couch, where he sits down and you stand in front of him, between his legs, looking down at him so innocently. you’re confused, maybe you’re not as well trained as he thought, because you sure don’t know what he wants right now. maybe a glass of wine? you go over to the wine cabinet and pull out a glass and pour in some wine.

kaiser is waiting impatiently, he trained you properly, didn’t he? so why the fuck aren’t you going along with what he wants. god, it’s pissing him off. he sees you walk away, ah, maybe you’re finally going to cook dinner as he wants. he picks up the tv remote and turns it to the bltv channel, today will be perfect, he’s going to simply sit with you, watch some soccer and then eat some nice homemad-

and there you are, standing in front of him looking oh so innocent holding out a glass of wine to him. are you fucking serious? you’re kidding right? you’re definitely doing this on purpose, don’t look so innocent. you’re just trying to piss him off, aren’t you? you fucking bitch. “what is this?” he asks you. he’s angry, but he’s being eerily calm. “wine, i thought you wanted a glass?” are you being dumb on purpose? no, you definitely did this to anger him, didn’t you? ah, he’s so mad now. “and why would i want a glass of wine, after such a long day of playing. wouldn’t i want a meal, hm? dumb girl” he patronises you. and you feel so small. “

but you do something unprecedented, something you haven’t ever done before… you have a… reply? you actually talk back? “y-yeah but how can i know what you want-“ enough. he’s even angrier now. why the fuck are you talking back to him instead of bowing and doing what he told you to do. you retarded whore. what the fuck? all that calmness is gone, he’s gritting his teeth.

poor you, you thought you could reason with him before he got mad, he seemed so calm. stupid, naïve you. you thought he wasn’t mad and now you’ll pay the price.

he knocks the glass out of your hand, the glass shatters everywhere, cutting your hand slightly. the wine pours on you, staining you red. and if that wasn’t bad enough, his fist hits you square in the nose. the pain doesn’t even register until you feel the first drops of blood, and then see them on that cute dress kaiser bought for you just days before. he’s towering above you, staring you down. you messed up, didn’t you? “you don’t talk back to me. ever. i didn’t teach you that. next time, keep your pretty mouth shut. you fucking bitch. did you forget your manners? that’s not how a girl like you should be acting. should i just find a new girl, hm?” he’s holding your throat with his tattooed hand. find a new girl????? no, don’t do that micha!!!! don’t do that to you, you didn’t mean to. but now you’re even doubting that, you definitely meant to. you just didn’t realise it. or something like that… it’s your fault.

he slightly releases the hold on your neck to let you talk, you have a chance to make things up with your words. a very slim chance. because he probably won’t care about what you have to say, whether it’s an apology or not. but he’s letting you talk, so use the opportunity before you get a black eye next too. “i-i’m sorry. i’m really incompetent” you don’t even make any attempt to grab his hands off of your throat, or even wipe up the blood streaming down your pretty lips. “i’ll not mess up again micha, i promise.”

your blood is covering part of his tattoo now too, he notices it and withdraws his hand, and laps up the blood. he always had an affinity for your blood, you taste so sweet. he likes tasting the hurt he’s caused you. it’s fulfilling, this is how he likes living. he loves hurting you, he doesn’t like admitting it often though, ironic for a monster like him. for some reason, that anger subsides. he’s not as mad anymore. maybe he’s going to apologise to you? you’re actually kind of hopeful for that, the small, rational part of you that knows it wasn’t your fault. but that part perishes as quickly as it was lit up. he ruffles your hair with his other hand and wipes the rest of the blood his tongue couldn’t quite clear up onto your rosy cheek. “it’s fine, don’t mess up again, ‘kay? i was nice this time, wasn’t i? you’ve had worse from me before. don’t take my mercy for granted, prinzessin.”

you’re so lucky for getting that mercy, thanks kaiser, isn’t he just so nice? you don’t even know how he managed to forgive you for such a horrible mistake. you’re a shitty wife, thank god your husband is so nice. and, ah, that dress, the one kaiser generously bought for you, it’s all ruined. all stained in the wine and blood. you ruined the dress with your incompetence. you messed everything up, god, why did he even marry you? you’re so stupid, and good for nothing.

he can tell what you’re thinking, he feels a little bad, but he’d rather you beat yourself up over it than him. it’s easier that way anyway. he pats your head again. “poor little thing, all bloodied up because of her own stupidity.” he chastises, and you look down in shame. he’s right, you’re so stupid. “let’s go get you cleaned up, little häschen.” and he does, he leads you to the bathroom sink, sits you on the side, and cleans the blood from you. he almost flinches at the newformed bend in your nose, and the bruise which just seems to be getting darker and changing between shades of nasty blues and purples every second. yikes, he forgets how delicate you are compared to him sometimes.

all you can think about is how generous he is, he hasn’t even changed out of his jersey yet. that’s how nice he is. and he’s bandaging you up too, a cute bandage to hide that hideous bruise. he wants to hide your mistake for you? that’s even sweeter, he doesn’t want you to look in the mirror and feel bad for it, right? that’s what he’s doing right? your husband really is the best.

and that night, you make up for your mistake. you serve him his favourite bread crust rusk, and a nice glass of water. get him changed into his robe. tie up his hair. give him blue-red glasses so he doesn’t hurt his eyes. you pamper him, ‘cause that’s what he deserves. you pamper him whilst ignoring that banging headache from the brutal assault on your nose. and the bruise on your neck. and arms. and legs. all from past outbursts of his. you tend to him and treat him like a king even though you’re so injured, but you’re too brainwashed by your husband, too eager to be the perfect housewife so he doesn’t leave you, and you end up ignoring all of this.

kaiser knows what you’re thinking, predictable little thing. he thinks you’re real stupid. he’s the one that should be scared of you leaving, he couldn’t ever find anyone better than you, anyone more willing. you’re perfect. but he won’t tell you that. he won’t give you an ego. keep being scared of being left alone, so that every second you spend with him you’re even more grateful. he’s scared too, but he’s confident most of the time you’re going to stay. he feels a little guilty for everything right now, ah, it’s one of those times. the weight of his actions presses heavy on him, but instead of taking it out on you again, he just pulls you next to him, opens his robe and drapes one side over you, feeds you a spoonful of your home cooked rusk and pinches your cheek affectionately.

“good girl, schatzi. so good. i love you. du gehörst für immer mir.” he nibbles at your ear a little.

and you just sit and blush. “i-i love you t-too micha, ‘s much.”

you’re the luckiest wife in the world, thank gosh your husband is so willing to put up with your incompetence and stupidity. being a wife is so great. you lean your head against his shoulder, and whilst you’re being so tender with each other, you can forget about all your physical pains caused by him, and he can forget about all of the things weighing and stabbing at his mind at all times, caused by everyone. you’re truly his safe place. a real angel sent from heaven.

“engelchen.”

[ruwhimsical]

“I WASN’T LEADING YOU ON, GIRL!”

He was no longer the sloppy volleyball player you hung out with, but he still was your best friend—right?

cw : heavy angst , slight fluff , gn!reader , miscommunication , hidden feelings , reader has some ass friends , idk what else !!just read and find out😈

——

You invited your friends to the MSBY match, knowing they’d be more than happy to accept. They weren’t your closest friends—just people you met along the way during university—but they were better company than going alone. The thought of running into Hinata by yourself made you uneasy.

One of your friends kept gushing about how all the players on the team were “eye candy.” This was typical for them—they’d always openly talk about guys they liked during class, feigning ignorance about how uncomfortable it made you. But you never said anything, afraid they’d drop you if you did.

Right now, though, you were thankful for their chatter. It was a convenient distraction from your thoughts, especially with Hinata on your mind. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to suppress the awkwardness when you saw him. The dread was already building in your stomach, even before the match had started. You knew he’d search for you in the crowd afterward, probably try to strike up a conversation. But what did he even want from you now?

The three of you made your way to the stands, your friends ahead, engrossed in a conversation you didn’t care to join. You took your designated seats.

“I’m so excited for this, oh my god! Do you think I could get Sakusa to sign my shirt?” one of your friends exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement.

“Be so for real… he’d probably send the biggest dirty your way,” the other one snorted, earning a playful slap on the shoulder.

You tuned them out, your eyes scanning the arena. Then, your focus landed on MSBY’s number 21. Your “best friend”—or at least, that’s what you used to call him.

But that was before he cut you off. You had no right to crawl back into his life. He’d made that clear two years ago when you heard the news of his departure—not from him, but from Kageyama, of all people.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the velocity of a spike sent the ball smashing into the floor. You glanced at the scoreboard: Hinata had already scored a point for his team.

“Hey, Y/N… isn’t that orange-haired guy the one who invited you here?” one of your friends asked, piquing the curiosity of the other.

“Oh my god… are you guys secretly dating or something?” your friend giggled, leaning in with a mischievous grin, clearly trying to pry the answer out of you.

“It’s not like that,” you said quickly, offering a half-smile. How you wished it were, but that was a fantasy. “We just hung out during school. He messaged me and asked if I wanted to come, nothing crazy.”

“Bummer… but I won’t lie, he’s a really good player,” she said, slumping down in her seat.

You looked back at the arena, and there he was—Hinata, darting around the court with the same speed and stamina you remembered, reminding you of his old self. Maybe he hadn’t changed that much, after all. But then you noticed the difference—his movements were no longer sloppy. They were controlled, smooth, as if every motion had purpose. He was confident, proud, the embodiment of someone who’d truly grown.

The sight brought a bittersweet smile to your face. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of admiration for how far he’d come. But looking at the back of his jersey, you were reminded of the cold, hard truth.

To achieve his dreams, he’d had to create distance. He had chosen to leave you behind to pursue them, likely never telling you in fear of you trying to stop him. You weren’t selfish—you would have fought for him. But maybe he saw you as a threat to his ideal life. He cut you off without a word, leaving you to fill in the blanks.

Now, here he was, trying to waltz back into your life. But you knew it wouldn’t feel the same. No matter how friendly he acted, no amount of effort could erase the two years of radio silence between the two of you.

You were no longer on the same wavelength. He had become someone who lived in a different world—out of reach.

——

As the match comes to an end with MSBY claiming victory, the stands erupt with energy. Fans rise to their feet, reporters swarm toward the sweaty players, and long lines form as eager supporters clutch their merchandise, hoping for a chance at an autograph. You, on the other hand, are desperate to leave, debating whether to send Hinata a quick text with an excuse that the commotion is too overwhelming to meet him.

But before you can make your escape, your friends pull you toward the crowd surrounding the players, hoping to catch their attention. You stand awkwardly on the outskirts, silently begging for this to end. Then, a light tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you feel your heart lurch, nearly stopping altogether.

There he is—the one and only Hinata Shoyo, smiling as if the past two years had never even happened.

He stands before you, now 5’7”, his once-boyish frame replaced by a lean, muscular build honed by endless practice and the fierce Brazilian sun, which left his skin with a tan that hasn’t faded. You realize you might not have recognized him if he hadn’t spoken first. This isn’t the same 5’4” kid you used to spend your days with. He’s different now—almost a stranger.

“Hey y/n, I’m so glad you could make it,” the change in his voice catches you off guard, making it hard to come to terms with the fact that he’s standing in front of you—not as the third-year high schooler you once knew, but as a professional athlete.

“Yeah…” At a loss for words, you try to shift his attention away from your awkward demeanor.

“You were great out there, I almost didn’t believe that was you,” you shoot him a nervous smile, hands tucked behind your back.

“Of course! They don’t call me Ninja Shoyo for nothing,” he puffs out his chest, attempting to impress you—but it only makes you laugh.

It almost—almost—reminds you of how things used to be. Maybe you could pick up the pieces of the friendship you two left behind, after all. And if you’re lucky, you might even be able to make something new blossom between the two of you.

“What’s so funny? I’m being serious, you know!” He glares at you, but then, he stops. He notices the way your eyes soften, and it hits him—he misses this. He missed you. He can’t let you slip through his fingers now that you’re finally here, standing before him.

“Y/N!!” One of your friends rushes toward you, pulling you away from him before you can reply. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.” You know she’s lying, but the way she eyeing Hinata and disregarding your existence burns.

“I’m your biggest fan! You’re so fine,” your friend says, grasping Hinata’s hand.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Hinata flashes his best fan smile, like it’s second nature. But the one thing that hasn’t changed? Your ability to read him like an open book.

A surge of anger courses through your veins. Whether it’s jealousy or something else, you’re not sure, but it’s enough to push you into action. You need a way out of this awkward scene—and quickly. Then, you notice the subtle glance Hinata gives you, and it sparks your idea.

“Hinata, how’s your foot? Does it still hurt?” You look at him, hoping he’ll catch on.

Quick as ever, he feigns pain, rubbing his leg. “Yeah, now that you mention it, it does kind of hurt.”

“Oh, why don’t I help you get to the first aid? It’d be a shame if you couldn’t play your next match because of this,” you suggest, shifting to offer him your support. He carefully leans on you, but you can tell he’s being cautious, not wanting to put too much weight on you.

“Bye, guys! You can head on without me!” You hear their confused, skeptical glances, but you ignore them. You escort him outside, where their prying eyes won’t be able to reach.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Hinata bends down, holding his knee while resting against the wall. He looks up at you with a small, grateful smile.

“Don’t you deal with fans like that all the time?” you cross your arms, a cool demeanor returning as you lock eyes with him.

“Yeah, but it’s not every day I get to see you,” he says, a smile that’s real, not the one he gives desperate fans. It’s the smile of someone who’s been missing you, someone who’s never forgotten you.

“If those are your actual friends, I feel bad for you,” he adds, and you can’t help but feel a mix of dread and anger. You want to keep the mood light, but there’s something inside you that just won’t let it go. You can’t ignore the hurt anymore.

“Yeah, you could’ve been my friend if you hadn’t left without a word two years ago.” The words are out before you can stop them, and you watch as his smile falters, his gaze shifting away from you—avoiding it, as if running from the confrontation. But you’re not going to let him run again.

He turns away, looking at the ground, but the guilt is clear. His posture stiffens, as if he’s struggling to find the right words.

“About that… it was kind of hard to break the news,” he admits, and you almost see red. The anger wells up in you again as you whip your face toward him, seeing the tension in his clenched jaw. He’s distressed.

Your mind spirals, hurt and confusion overwhelming you. Did he think I was a nuisance? Did he forget about me? Or worse… did he not even care?

“What do you mean? You told everyone else with ease.” You scoff, trying to suppress the rush of emotions. You thought maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to fix things. But it’s clear now—he’s not on the same page.

“You’re different…” he says quietly, his voice breaking the tension.

You’re caught off guard, the air thick with the weight of his words. You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to process it all.

“You’re special to me…” he continues, his voice soft, like he’s testing the waters. “There was just no way I could tell you without breaking down. I knew that if I told you face-to-face, I would’ve started doubting my decision. And you know how much volleyball means to me.”

“So do I not mean as much?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. You laugh bitterly. Does he think that’s a good enough excuse?

“You could’ve texted me, you know,” you mutter under your breath, but the words are sharp with the sting of betrayal.

“I know… but I had hoped if I just said nothing, then we could pick up where we left off when I got back. It’d be as if nothing had changed at all.”

Nothing had changed at all? The anger in you swells.

“You’re so selfish…” Your voice cracks, but you hold it together. “Do you know how many pitiful glances people gave me whenever your name was mentioned? How I spent months unable to function because I thought my best friend hated me? I doubted if you even considered me a friend!”

You feel your heart pounding as you try to keep it together. The frustration, the hurt, the confusion—all of it comes rushing back in a tide of emotion. The anger takes over, but beneath it is a vulnerability you refuse to show.

“I don’t hate you…” He steps closer to you, his hands reaching out to gently take yours. “I could never hate you. I loved you, okay? I loved you, and I was afraid that if we stayed in touch, you wouldn’t be interested anymore. That I wouldn’t have time for you.”

The words hang in the air, suffocating you. He’s desperate. You can feel it, the weight of the years that passed between you two. It’s almost too much to bear.

“You could’ve told me before…” The words escape you in a whisper. “I would’ve tried. I would’ve made it work. Clearly, you undermine how much I care about you. When have I ever been bored of you?”

His eyes gleam with that hope again. “We can start fresh. Forget the last two years. Let’s make it work, please…”

You want to give in. You want to run into his arms and forget everything. But you can’t. You know it won’t be the same. You know that you can’t ignore the hurt of the past two years.

“I don’t think we can…” You pull your hands away from his grasp. The scene plays out slowly in his eyes as you begin to walk away from him—the same way he walked away from you.

“I’m sorry, Hinata. I just can’t bring myself to act like those two years didn’t happen.” Your voice cracks, but you don’t turn around.

And for the first time, it was his turn to feel the anguish you’ve carried all this time.

extra :

—> FREE ME exams are around the corner and instead of studying I’m doing this lol!😂😂😂😭😂😭😂😭😂😭😂

—> gulps i hope u guys enjoyed this cause I certainly did not enjoy writing ts!!

—> help i lowkey feel like no one gets the songs the thaf i reference as my title

—> this how we coping chat ….👅

© banner and writing belongs to ruwhimsical 2024. do not repost

mlist

[yanderes-galore]

may i request a romantic yandere concept for Lucifer with Fallen Angel! Darling? Maybe he used to have a crush on them before he fell, so seeing them again after such long time just makes his old feelings come back in the worst way possible..

Thank you so much for giving me a background, lol! It helped a lot when working on this ^^ Sorry for the long wait, hope it was worth it.

Yandere! Lucifer with Fallen Angel! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Possessive behavior, Kidnapping, Delusional behavior, Forced relationship.

Before Lucifer fell? What a long time...

Yet he no doubt remembers his time up there.

I imagine Lucifer knew you before he seduced Eve and married Lilith.

He kinda has to, right?

You were probably his first companion... Possibly a crush he had no idea how to act on.

He was quite... naive? Young?

Either way, back then he was rather inexperienced, even as an angel.

He always asked too many questions and seemed to stick his nose where it doesn't belong.

You knew him well back then.

You were two close friends, Lucifer had always remembered you fondly.

Everything about you was, well, angelic.

Your smile, your gaze, your pretty pure wings.

Like many things in heaven, you were a beauty to behold.

Lucifer, in hindsight, wishes he spent more time with you.

Things were simple back then.

Just two angels, sharing some talk.

There was no Hell yet and Lucifer was still that beaming dreamer that many found troublesome.

But you never thought that.

You were just as curious.

You were curious about him, humankind, and all of creation.

Even before Lucifer met Lilith it seems he was corrupting you.

Lucifer often told you of the dealings he and Lilith did.

He wasn't sure why... but maybe it was because you'd always perk up with stars in your eyes when you listened.

Although... Once temptation was introduced to humankind...

You were forced to watch Lucifer fall from grace.

Lucifer still remembers the fear in your eyes when you watch your companion fall.

He had always remembered you since that day.

Yet he was also occupied with his new wife, Lilith, deep in this new kingdom created by their hands.

Hell.

Honestly, Lucifer didn't think he'd see you again.

Why would he?

Far as he knew, you were quite the pure angel.

You belonged up there... while he deserved to take his punishment.

Lucifer didn't start thinking about you again until Lilith disappeared.

It was then, when he was alone with his rubber ducks, that he began to realize how much you meant to him.

He's a king... yet he's a pitiful king in this state.

Even now he misses the companionship you two would share.

But then there's... news.

A fallen angel has entered Hell.

Lucifer would normally not care when another soul enters Hell.

But an angel?

That's already surprising enough.

He probably met you after helping Charlie rebuild the Hotel.

Which only seems to surprise him more.

At first, well, he thinks he's dreaming.

There's... There's no way you're here!

Yet when he gets a close look...

It is you.

This was really you.

You look different due to the fall... but you.

Lucifer probably tears up when he sees you, like seeing a long lost friend.

A long lost love...

He's been alone for so long.

I don't doubt him hugging you when he sees you, baffling you and the other demons for a moment.

Until Lucifer starts dumping info, saying you two were close in Heaven.

Lucifer is quite excited you came down here.

He isn't sure how you ended up here...

Yet he's happy you are!

It's for... selfish reasons, but that's expected of a demon.

With you here, he's no longer alone!

He has his fellow (fallen) angel friend to keep him company!

Not only that... but he wants to show you the world he's been thriving in for... who knows how long?

You're scared when you first arrive... Completely expected.

You fell due to following Lucifer's teachings and agreeing with Charlie's plan to reform sinners.

Which is how you end up falling into Lucifer's new home.

Knowing how delusional and alone Lucifer is at this point, even after reconciling with his daughter, he'd probably think this was destiny.

You two were meant to meet again!

You were meant to save him from being lonely like the angel you are! (were?)

You'd no doubt be Lucifer's next love interest, even if you were technically his first.

Sometimes he's sorry for being away for so long.

You two would've been cute together up there...

....

But that can still happen, right!?

Lucifer definitely shows you around his home and reminisces about your time together in Heaven.

To you, he's like a friend who simply hasn't seen another friend in a long time.

Yet that's such a naive view...

In reality, due to his fragile mental state, Lucifer is quickly falling in love all over again.

I imagine now, in Hell, his feelings get twisted.

After all, he's no angel anymore.

You aren't either.

He can be possessive, he can be manipulative...

He's clingy, desperate, and hopes you still enjoy his presence.

To him, everything about you is still beautiful.

He hopes you're still a dreamer.

He hopes you understand how he feels.

He's delusional, probably accidentally confessing within weeks.

Then when he realizes it, he begs you to stay.

He's a king now!

He'll give you everything and anything!

Please don't leave too!

If... If you do...

Maybe he needs to clip your wings?

Lucifer doesn't have many... morals in this state.

Again, King of Hell and all.

So keeping you with him by force, even if he doesn't fully realize it, doesn't register as wrong to him.

He'll manipulate you or straight up lock you away.

If he wanted to restrict your power, he probably could since you both are fallen angels.

He's desperate to not be alone again.

He clings to you, perhaps even in demonic form, pleading you don't leave.

When you try to pull away, try to reason, try to run from your corrupted friend...

He merely strokes your wings in a comforting touch, whispering sweet nothings...

Before locking you away, chaining your wings, just so he can keep his closest companion.

Your wings bleed with your attempts to flee... the glowing ichor staining your skin.

You're miserable... tortured by your delusional companion's obsession...

But to Lucifer...

It was torture losing you... torture being alone...

But now, you're in his territory, his domain...

Now? Well, now you'll never leave him!

He won't let it happen.

He's sick of being alone.

He just wants to hold you... kiss you... love you...

He wants you to be his.

He's waited a long time for this.

He knows you're scared... but... you'll grow used to your new home...

He'll take care of you, he'll love you until he sees that familiar sparkle of happiness in your eyes...

But just when he thinks he sees your eyes sparkle when you look at him...

He quickly realizes it's tears.

[half-oz-eddie]

I didn’t know I wanted you (Until I couldn’t have you)

Part 5/5 (master list)

Buck found himself, tipsy and angry after another awful shift, on Tommy’s couch, venting to him about the captain he has reached his breaking point with.

“I can’t take this anymore, Tommy. Everyone has no choice but to keep their heads down and not talk back to Gerrard. I—I just feel like I’m alone there. I-I know they’re still my family but I’m the only one that’s taking this so hard. I feel…I feel lost.”

“Evan, I know it’s hard, but you’re definitely not alone. Everyone wants what’s best for you. Everyone cares about you. I want what’s best for you too. I wish there was a better way to go about this. ”

“I’m really glad you’re here for me.”

“Of course. You’ve been here for me whenever I needed a friend.” Tommy’s voice was the gentlest it has ever been and his hand was so warm as it gently caressed Buck’s bicep, offering him the most comfort he’d felt in such a long time.

Buck’s heart was racing wilder than it had ever raced. He couldn’t fight these feelings anymore. He knew what he wanted.

Buck didn’t know if it was a strange magnetic force, or God, or the universe that drew him to Tommy’s lips for a kiss.

The kiss was as soft and warm as he’d imagined it just seconds before it happened, but ended too soon when Tommy pulled away, eyes blown wide in shock and confusion.

“Evan…wh—“

Buck wasn’t sure how to respond, or how to explain what he’d just done. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t—I didn’t—“

“Evan—“

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna go.” Buck sprang up from the couch, rushing to the door.

“Wait—“

He ran out to his car and drove away, trying to get home as fast as he could.

Tommy called. And called. And called again.

“I can’t talk to him. I don’t even know what to say. O-or how to explain myself. I screwed things up.” Buck berated himself.

He was too ashamed to tell anyone what he’d done because it was impulsive. It was selfish. It was hard to explain.

He wished he could turn back time.

Buck carried this around for a day, then 2 days, then a week, until 13 days passed and it had completely consumed him to the point where he’d wake up nauseous every morning.

Tommy went from texting him a handful of times and calling 2 or 3 times, to texting once every other day, and eventually…not at all.

Buck was silent for the first 30 minutes after he’d gotten to Maddie’s. She could see he was pale and his eyes looked like they’d seen the horrors, so she didn’t want to pry but…

“Buck. What’s wrong?” She had to.

“I…I kissed Tommy.”

She blinked 3 times and shook her head in disbelief. “I’m sorry—what?”

“We were…kinda having a moment. I was venting to him about work and he made all these…I dunno, pent up feelings come out.”

“So—that—I guess…explains why you didn’t like Edgar without even meeting him—“

“Yeah. Okay? I tried to ignore it but it’s pretty clear that I’m—“ Buck realized it for himself as the words were about to slip out. “Shit. I’m in love with Tommy.”

“I had no idea you even—liked men.”

“I didn’t either. Sure, I’ll look at a hot guy’s ass but that’s normal.”

“It’s not ab…normal…” Maddie sighed. “So what now? Where do you and Tommy stand?”

“I-I ran out after he pulled away and I haven’t talked to him since. He’s been calling and texting—“

“And you’re ignoring him?! Why?” Maddie furrowed her brows. “He obviously wants to talk to you.”

“You didn’t see his face when he pulled away. He-he was so confused and he…” Buck sighed. “He looked upset.”

“Are you sure he was upset with you? Maybe he was just scared. Things with Edgar did end pretty badly. And then someone he really cares about, that he didn’t even know likes men just—kisses him out of nowhere! Think about how he’s feeling.”

Buck hadn’t thought about any of that. All he thought about was how badly he’d screwed up their friendship, and never considered how much he must’ve scared and surprised Tommy.

“Buck.” Maddie continued. “You need to talk to him.”

Buck nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

That night, Buck was sitting at his kitchen island, drinking the last of the beers Tommy had brought over the night of their dinner, when there was a knock on the door.

Those three firm knocks.

His heart was thumping wildly, his stomach was twisted in knots, but he knew he couldn’t avoid this anymore. He opened the door and they stared at one another, unable to catch their breath.

“Hey, uh…can we talk?” Tommy finally spoke firs, breaking awkward silence.

“Yeah…c-come in…” Buck welcomed him inside.

Tommy slowly stepped into the kitchen, his eyes falling onto the half empty beer bottle. “So that’s…that’s it, huh? You don’t call, you don’t text. You kiss me and I never see you again?”

“Tommy, I don’t—“

“I miss you. Even just…as a friend. I miss you.”

Buck nodded, the sadness in his eyes matching Tommy’s. “I miss you too.”

“…Why did you kiss me, Evan?”

“The truth is…” Buck shamefully sighed “when…I found out you were seeing someone, I felt like I was losing you. I-I couldn’t figure out why I was so worked up about it but…I was—“

“Jealous?”

“Yeah.” Buck bashfully chuckled. “I was jealous.”

“You like having me all to yourself?” Tommy smiled.

Buck felt his heart racing in a different way. Not just joy, but a special kind of excitement. One that was coursing through his entire body. “Kinda…”

“Evan.” Tommy said seriously. “If you want me…you can have me. As a friend, or as more.”

“A-are you sure?”

“I only started dating recently because…I was trying to move on from you.” Tommy laughed to himself. “I thought it was stupid that I liked you so much, and I was sure you wouldn’t be attracted to me—“

“I’m attracted to you.” Buck jumped at the opportunity to admit. “Extremely attracted to you.”

The pair of them had suddenly found themselves in each other’s personal space and this time, Tommy seized the opportunity. He pulled Buck in for a kiss. One much longer, and far more purposeful than the first.

Buck moaned in pleasure and relief, like he was finally letting something go, finally confessing to the things he’d been hiding from Tommy for months.

They broke apart, just a little too soon for Buck, who chased after Tommy’s lips again, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s neck, kissing him possessively.

“Easy, easy.” Tommy gently whispered against his lips. “Nobody’s gonna take me away from you this time, sweetheart.”

Buck giggled as their lips connected once more. “I hope not.” Buck mumbled into the kiss.

Two months later…

Tommy and Buck followed their usual hiking trail, holding hands, kissing and taking photos along the way.

They stopped in the picnic area and just as Buck was halfway through unpacking their lunch, Tommy pulled him in for a very distracting kiss while he reached into his pocket for a box.

He opened the box and broke away from the kiss, smiling when the ring in the box caught Buck’s wide eyes.

“Tommy—“

“I know it’s a bit soon, but Evan.” Tommy sighed. “All the time we’ve spent together, all the adventures we’ve shared together…I-I wanna do this for the rest of my life. Please tell me you’ll make me the happiest man alive and marry me, Evan Buckley?”

Buck nodded without hesitation, leaning into Tommy for a loving, turned lustful kiss. “D’you think we could get away with a quckie here?”

“No!” Tommy laughed. “Can I put the ring on you now?”

Buck held out his hand, letting Tommy slide the gorgeous, round cut, two tone diamond ring on his finger.

“Beautiful ring.” Buck smiled, admiring the ring.

“Beautiful ring,” Tommy stole a kiss “for a beautiful man” he stole another “with a beautiful soul.”

“I love you Tommy.” Buck smiled as he rested on Tommy’s shoulder. “I’m glad I kissed you. Even though I ran away and I got scared—“

“It’s okay to be scared, Evan. I’m scared too, and I know there have been so many changes in your life—“

“But…sometimes change is good, right?”

Tommy nodded, pressing a kiss into Buck’s curls. “Yeah…sometimes it is.”

[accirax]

As of the latest episode, with all the secrets out in the open, do you have any changed opinions on the general outcomes of your “Secret Swap: For Better or Worse”?

Now that is a fantastic question! Thank you for remembering that this post existed-- I wasn't sure if anybody other than me did 😅 (And also, thank you for your patience while waiting for me to respond to you.) Here's a link to the post in question for anyone who might not know what fatherfigurefusion is asking about. As for the contents of that AU...

DRDT Secret Swap AU: For Better or Worse - REVISIONS

(CW for the suite of issues that we always have to talk about when it comes to the DRDT secrets: murder, death, suicide, implied homophobia/transphobia, self harm, eating disorders.)

Well, first of all, it's good for me that (other than the Xander/Teruko swap thing still not being confirmed) all of the secrets landed in the way in which I thought they would at the time I wrote that post. I would have had a lot more workshopping to do if, say, Hu had been the murderer without remorse and Levi had been the hopeless child.

I think I'll run through each choice I made individually, and then maybe try to fix any issues I encounter at the end after summing up the situation.

The Good Timeline

Eden receives Levi’s secret

Well, Eden did have a more negative reaction to Levi's secret than I initially anticipated in this post, criticizing him for being selfish in hardly even remembering whose lives he took. However, Levi also (presumably) has a more positive reaction to being approached with his secret than I feared. He was willing to share it with everyone himself, so I doubt he would threaten Eden if she were to approach him with it.

An updated summary of what might have happened: Eden receives Levi's secret, and is a little frightened, but might want more details before judging Levi fully (after all, she already knows that his family weren't the best of people). If she decides to approach him about it, Levi coolly explains what exactly his secret means. Eden's discomfort grows, which makes Levi feel bad.

Is it a fantastic scenario? Not really. But are there any better solutions to Levi's secret out there? Debatable. I think this one held up decently.

Nico receives David's secret

I still stand by this one, despite David being even more wild than initially expected. There's definitely a chance that Nico would just bluntly say the secret at some point if they determined that David was being manipulative. But, at the very least, Nico wouldn't be bringing their own drama to the situation-- just potentially elevating others' via timing.

It's a hard secret to deal with, but I still think that Nico is one of the better options.

Hu receives Ace's secret

So, this one obviously gains the new complications that we now canonically know that Ace was the killer, and that he was planning to do so basically before the motives were even revealed. I still think that Hu would probably react in much the way I "predicted" (assuming Ace's former bullying of Nico didn't already damn him in her eyes too much). But, I also don't think that hearing kind words from Hu would be enough to dissuade Ace from wanting to kill for his own safety.

Therefore, what happens to Hu after Ace kills? Is she now stuck in the opinion of defending Ace at the Class Trial, and being inevitably disappointed when he's revealed to truly be the killer? I guess that's not that different from what Hu canonically did with Nico, but it's not like that's going to be great for her mental health either. Not to mention 1) she would have been speaking up for a previously more controversial figure, therefore bringing her judgment even further into question for ever trusting Ace at all, and 2) Ace would actually die at the end, which would be worse for Hu's "wanting to be reliable and save people" bit.

For those reasons, I think this assignment is... dubious, but Ace's secret is also much more of a loaded gun now that we know that he was already planning to kill prior to the secrets' existence. I don't think there's any assignment I could make that would convince Ace out of killing.

J receives Eden's secret

This one still makes a ton of sense to me.

Rose receives J's secret

While I may wind up shuffling this one around in order to defuse another secret's problem, I think the logic behind this assessment holds true.

"Xander" receives Arei's secret

Also still makes sense to me. Let my girl rest. (But not in peace.) (Well, wait.) (You know what I mean!!!)

Arturo receives Min's secret

I don't think that any of our further explanations of Arturo's traumas would make the "poisoning the competition" secret any more traumatic to him. Thus, it still works.

David receives Xander's secret

I. Um. Wow.

I'm pretty certain I wasn't the only one caught off guard by the true extent of how much David cares/d about Xander. With the "knowledge" that David was planning on throwing the killing game and slaughtering everyone in pursuit of Xander's ideals-- taking into account that his actions may have been falsified/exaggerated, of course-- I fear that leaving David with this secret might be irresponsible.

If his emotions surrounding Xander grew even fiercer, so might his determination to bring the killing game to an end. No matter how much what David said in the Class Trial was the truth, I don't think giving him Xander's secret would have the "out of commission" effect I wrote about. This is definitely one I'd like to reassign, if possible.

Arei receives Whit's secret

Now, we have the confirmation that Arei didn't tell anyone about having Levi's secret! We still (understandably) don't know anything about Arei's relationship with her mom, though. Still, this one is looking good.

Veronika receives Charles' secret

As it turns out, Veronika actually found the secrets overall pretty boring (or at least, so she tells us), and only didn't reveal Hu's secret because of the pact she made with Hu. However, I still think that the logic behind her revealing the secret to Charles early holds, and that it's for the best that Charles learns this information on the sooner side. So, this one is still good!

Levi receives Arturo's secret

Well. We know that Levi wouldn't condemn someone for murdering a family member! If anything, if he treated Felicity's death like his own father's, he'd just forget that he ever read the secret. That's a joke, but I think I did a good job with deescalating Arturo's secret.

The worst consequences I can see here are 1) Levi coming to believe that Arturo is a bad person (which may have been the case already?), and/or 2) Levi could callously spill Arturo's secret to the group if he didn't understand the gravity of the sentiment. We don't exactly know how Arturo would react to his secret being shared publicly in a non-Class Trial setting, but given how he treated Eden in his mini-breakdown in 2-10, I can't imagine it would be good.

However, those are only hypotheticals, and I don't know if I'd really get any better by giving Arturo's secret to someone else. I still stand by most of the logic, so I think this choice would remain.

Ace receives Veronika's secret

I still think that nothing bad would happen from this assignment. Which means... Ace would proceed in his plan to kill Eden. Yay...?

Now that we finally have the answer as to who the killer is, it's really weird to look at this good AU. Every time, I'm like, "phew, we didn't do anything to give someone the motivation to kill!" But, as I don't think there are any secrets Ace could receive that would convince him not to kill, that just means that the "good timeline" is condemning Eden to die. Is that really better than some of the other timelines?

That's a bit more philosophical than I think is required for this AU re-analysis, so we'll just give this one a pass.

Teruko receives Hu's secret

Honestly, I think this one got better since I proposed it. This was probably my least favorite assignment of the original good AU. However, now we know that Hu had interest in forming a pact of secrecy with the person who held her secret.

Naturally, it's possible that she was only able to make this pact with Veronika because they had each other's secrets. I have no idea how Hu would have figured out that Veronika had her secret otherwise, barring a Hu!Mastermind situation.

However, as we saw in canon, Teruko decided to approach Rose and ask Rose about her secret. If Teruko did that in this AU, then Hu could surely ask Teruko not to tell others about her secret, and I imagine Teruko would oblige. It removes the possibility I was worried about with Hu feeling insecure about someone learning this about her; while that may still be the case, we can assume that instead of lashing out, she would just ask Teruko to keep it on the down low. This one's good!

Charles receives Rose's secret

I mean. Yeah.

Whit receives Nico's secret

Yeah x2. I do wonder how Whit would react if Nico tried to ask him for help with regards to Ace's bullying, though. I doubt that would actually happen, given that Nico doesn't trust anyone. Still, I'm curious if Whit would turn a blind eye like he did to their arguing canonically, or if that direct connection to Nico's mental health would call him to action a la Charles.

"Min" receives Teruko's secret

If David's creepy-ass smile didn't convince you that this secret should remain dead and buried, I don't know what will. This one can stay.

-

Finally, we've finished recapping the good version! In the end, I was still happy with 13/16 of my answers, which is a pretty good batting average.

But, how would I fix it? Well, as I alluded to in Rose's section, I think I would wind up giving Rose a different secret than J even though it was fine, just because Rose is a really useful slot to have. The best solution I could come up with is that Rose gets Ace's secret, David gets J's secret, and Hu gets Xander's secret.

I don't think that anyone would get mad at Rose for throwing away Ace's secret because it's pretty personal and likely not murder-related. And, Veronika was able to figure out that the secret belonged to Ace mere moments after hearing it for the first time anyways.

While giving David's secret to J is a bit of a dangerous game, I don't think he'd really be able to do much with it pre-Trial without blowing his cover. He might reveal the secret at the Trial just to throw things off track, but even when the secret was with Rose, it probably would have been revealed via process of elimination at the Trial anyways. We don't get the "take David out of commission" factor that made the assignment extra good the first time around, but that was a fluke. I don't think there's anything here that could stop David from David-ing.

I am banking on the fact that learning about Xander's suicidal tendencies wouldn't reignite any old feelings in Hu, but I think it would be okay. I would imagine that their circumstances are pretty different, and (on the surface, at least) Hu seems pretty resolute in her newfound desire to live.

As for Levi's secret, I think the best path for it would be to bury it in the "Xander" or "Min" slot and hand Eden either Arei or Teruko's secrets. Obviously, both of those are very loaded choices, given that Arei and Teruko are almost certainly the two characters that Eden is most connected to in the narrative right now.

In Arei's case, if Eden approached her about her secret, I think that encounter would play out much like the canonical clock-making scene did. However, that means that (if David is still in the area, I guess) they would also have that same rebound that would lead to Arei declaring herself Eden's friend-- albeit probably not as dramatically, given that in this universe, Arturo never attacks Eden. Of course, if Ace is still in the area, that then raises the question of whether the target would still change from Eden to Arei if Arei didn't make such a bold declaration. Which is the better scenario? That's impossible to say, because they both suck. Still, things to think about.

In Teruko's case, it really depends on how kindhearted Eden is feeling at the moment. I want to believe that Eden would approach "the killing game is all your fault" with skepticism and patience, and talk to Teruko to learn that she (most likely) has no memory of anything like this being the case. If Teruko could see that Eden wouldn't immediately turn against her at her literal worst, it would probably go a long way. That being said, it would be totally reasonable for Eden to be upset and worried about reading this secret, and to therefore begin to distrust Teruko.

Both of these situations raise enough issues that I can't decisively determine if they're better than just leaving Eden with Levi's secret. I'll leave it up to you to decide which iteration you personally prefer.

On to the bad section!

The Bad Timeline

As I said in the original AU post, it's difficult to determine which options are truly the worst when there are so many terrible options. Therefore, I expect that most-if-not-all of these options will still get a pass at least. We'll see if I wind up having enough brain cells to change anything in the end.

And, on that note...

Ace receives Levi's secret

Yeah, this one is still bad! Knowing what we know now, Ace is definitely killing if he gets Levi's secret, possibly faster. I do wonder if it would wind up leading Ace to target Levi, even if I'm not sure how he would pull that off. If Ace tried and failed, could it lead to Levi killing Ace instead? Eh, Ace probably wouldn't even try, given that everyone would suspect him if Levi were to turn up dead. "A reason to stay mad at you," indeed.

Veronika receives David's secret

The logic behind this one still cracks me up. Totally still think I'm right, though.

Levi receives Ace's secret

This one is okay. Really, the pushback I'm running into is just that things are already so bad with Ace that I don't think this extra layer of distrust would make things all that much worse. Plus, I don't know if Levi would pick up on the subtler implications of Ace's secret anymore. The question is just, "is there a better way that we can screw over Levi in this situation?" We'll just have to wait and see.

"Xander" receives Eden's secret

Sorry for kinda closeting you, Eden. But, that's what makes this selection so bad. And that's why it stays.

Arturo receives J's secret

There's no way to make J more miserable than to directly hand her secret over to Arturo. We'll continue sticking with canon on this one.

Hu receives Arei's secret

I didn't even mention in my original passage that Hu's love for her family would put her at odds with Arei's treatment of her sisters. That's really terrible, I say with a thumbs up.

Rose receives Min's secret

Tracks.

Teruko receives Xander's secret

While the whole David thing didn't really pan out, I do think that Teruko's segment still makes sense. It's possible we could do worse, but it's not like giving Teruko more reasons to hate herself is a terrible conclusion. I mean, it is, but not for the sake of crafting the worst possible timeline. You know how it is.

Charles receives Whit's secret

Charwhit angst :((((( Good thing that'll never happen in canon! Ha ha. This section is oxygen-potassium, which would also be potassium oxide (K2O), a corrosive compound! Or, you can just call it O-K.

Whit receives Charles' secret

Meanwhile, this section gets a heart from me.

Arei receives Arturo's secret

So if Arturo were in this even worse mental state after Arei wrecking his shop, possibly even being the blackened himself, would Levi also die? Because, Teruko was presumably planning on enacting her plan no matter who the blackened was, and DefaultTV would presumably always punish Teruko for it, and Levi (unless he too was too distracted by this motive) would probably still step in front of Teruko to repay his "debt" to her. However, if Arturo was either the one up for execution or too hateful of himself or anyone else to be spurred to surgery, we'd probably lose Levi too. It's even worse than I thought! Which means it's fully approved.

David receives Veronika's secret

Although this one kinda reads to me as "not that bad," it's important to keep in mind that I gave David a "not that bad" secret so that he would continue to encourage other people to share theirs. That's important for screwing over everyone else. So, I think this one will remain, but I could see blowing it up if it would help something else worsen.

Nico receives Hu's secret

This choice has always been one that I've felt was difficult to talk about, as was probably apparent by the million disclaimers I put at the beginning of it. Because of that, I'm sort of inclined to dissolve it. However, I... think it still holds up?

We also now have the direct confirmation that Hu wanted to keep her secret under wraps because she didn't want others to see her as weak or unreliable. If Nico was holding on to Hu's secret, she would likely only figure that out in a moment of stress, when people needed her to be reliable the most. My point is, she might go into further overdrive trying to prove to Nico that she really is reliable, which would only make things more stressful for Nico and more annoying for everyone else. With that additional reasoning, I don't currently see any reason why this should be changed.

"Min" receives Rose's secret

I didn't realize before that I had Rose and Min swap secrets-- not that it really matters, given that I could have just as easily given Rose's secret to "Xander." Anyways, this also tracks.

Eden receives Nico's secret

I still feel mean for this one 😅 But, y'know, that's just what life is like for a professional Eden Bully. Which is worse, threatening a lesbian with homophobia or falsely accusing her of murder for a year and a half? (/j) Jokes aside, this will remain.

J receives Teruko's secret

Guys, did you know that J HATES MURDER? Forget the theorist's "I feel like" disqualifier, J would definitely tell everyone and their annoying celebrity mom that everything in Teruko's life is worth killing for. Like a fine wine, this got better with age.

-

Unsurprisingly, after what I predicted at the beginning, I wound up approving 15/16 of these options. The only one I really had any issues with was Levi getting Ace's secret.

The worst secret for Levi to receive would probably be either something that makes him perceive a "good person" as a "bad person" or a "bad person" as a "good person." So, like, Teruko maybe for the former? And the worst person for Ace's secret to go to would probably be someone who would outright weaponize it against him, so possibly someone like Arei or David.

If I wanted to shuffle things around, I think it would give David Ace's secret and give Levi Veronika's secret. Ace's secret is also the kind of juicy insight that could still allow David to pull his manipulator BS, and David could absolutely destroy that man in the Class Trial, blackened or not, with the info when the time was right. Meanwhile, I could see Levi being like, "well, if it's stopping Veronika from hurting herself, then... her talent is a "good" thing, right? Every day I grow more jealous of you and your amazing perception, Veronika..." Honestly, I think I do like that one more than what I originally wrote. Let's roll with it.

And now, nearly two months after this ask was sent in, I'm finally done with it! Once again, I'm sorry I spent so long to complete this relatively simple ask. I hope this lived up to your expectations! Thanks for sending it in :)

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Eighteen: Reprieve

Chapter WC: 4,936

Chapter Warnings: None this time! Unless you count awkward flirting

A/N: A fluffy chapter? In EH? More likely than you think. I offer you this as recompense for the previous few chapters. 🤲

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Coruscant, 21 BBY

The Council is avoiding you.

Ever since you returned from Kamino, they've been keeping their distance. You've tried to speak with them, but they've either been busy or unavailable, and the excuses are getting more and more flimsy. It's frustrating, and it's only reinforcing your paranoia. You know there's something they aren't telling you. Something big.

But Obi-Wan refuses to discuss it. He'd been just as horrified as you to learn that Dooku was in possession of Yaddle's lightsaber, and his expression had grown grim as you told him about finding it in the Count's estate on Null. You'd even shown him the box, her datapad, the piece of her robe.

He'd been disturbed, and you could tell he was trying to keep his emotions under control as he comforted you. But, even as he held you, you could feel his mind working, his thoughts swirling.

Obi-Wan hasn't said a word about any of it since, and it's driving you crazy.

You've spent the last week trying to build your case. The Council would have to see you eventually, even if you had to storm their chambers. You have evidence now. Proof. There's no way they can deny what happened, not with a Jedi Master's personal effects in your possession. You'll force them to listen.

Right now, you're cross-legged on the floor in your quarters, a bowl of noodles sitting next to you. You chew slowly as you tinker with Yaddle’s datapad, a scowl on your face. It's been smashed beyond recognition, the screen cracked, the keys bent, and the circuits fried.

You've managed to get some information from it, but not nearly as much as you'd hoped. Most of it's garbled, but you've been able to decipher a few things, cross-reference the files with the logs Obi-Wan had given you from the Archives, and fill in the gaps.

She'd been investigating Dooku in her last days. That much was apparent. She'd discovered something about him, and she'd confronted him. It must have been serious, whatever it was, because the Count was not the type of man to be intimidated. Or, maybe he was. Maybe she'd scared him. Scared him enough that he'd killed her.

But what had she found? What had been so important, so damning, that it had led to her murder? Surely not something like the Separatist movement. You can't imagine Dooku killing a Jedi over politics. Not unless he had a very specific reason. Something personal.

And Yaddle's death had not been an accident. You’re sure of it. You know Dooku was involved, and you can only assume he was responsible. But, what was his motive? Was he hiding something? Had Yaddle stumbled across something she wasn't supposed to see?

Your commlink chirps, and you sigh, putting the pad aside. You're about to ignore it, but the familiar number appears on the screen, and you sit up straight, a smile forming.

Rex.

You've been messaging each other for the past couple weeks, exchanging updates and news. At first, the messages had been brief and professional, just a simple hello and how are you. But the messages had gotten longer, the conversations more personal, and you'd found yourself looking forward to hearing from him. He's been busy, leading the 501st through a series of campaigns, but he somehow manages to find the time to send you a message or two.

It's selfish, and you know it, but you've grown closer to him than ever. It's become routine, and the two of you have formed an unspoken agreement. No details, no names, no specifics. Just friendly conversation. Nothing that could be used against you, nothing that could put the other in danger. The war is hard enough, and you need something to keep your sanity. Even if it's only temporary.

And you know Rex needs this, too. He's stressed, and worried, and the war is taking its toll. You can sense it, even through the screen, and it pains you. It's not fair. He's only human, and he doesn't deserve to be caught up in all of this. Neither do you.

So the two of you make it work. And you take solace in knowing that he'll be back on Coruscant within a day or two. The 501st will have some down time while they refit the Resolute with an upgraded hyperdrive, and for once, Rex will have a chance to relax. If you're lucky, you might even be able to see him.

Rex: You've got to stop sending me pictures of kittens. The men are asking questions.

You grin, your mood lightening immediately. You've been sending him pictures of stray tookas that you've encountered on your runs through the city. After a long, hard-fought interrogation, you discovered that Rex is a tooka person. So, naturally, you've been exploiting that. 

It's a small, harmless thing, but it's become a source of amusement for both of you. Rex claims he's annoyed, but you can tell he's just being dramatic. It's something normal, something that isn't connected to the war, and you're both grateful for it.

You: Don't tell me you don't like them. That would break my heart.

The response is almost immediate.

Rex: I didn't say that. But one of the men in particular won't stop asking who's sending them, and I can't exactly tell him the truth.

You: You could. Just say they're from a friend. It's not illegal to have friends you know.

Rex: I've already got enough problems. I don't need to add another. I think he's starting to suspect.

You: Suspect what? That you like animals? Scandalous.

Rex: That's not funny.

You: I beg to differ.

Rex: I regret giving you this frequency.

Rex: You're not allowed to send me any more pictures. Of anything.

You: You're no fun. It's not like I've ever sent you anything inappropriate.

You press send without thinking, turning and picking up your bowl, taking another bite. It isn't until you've swallowed and put the bowl back down that the message registers. You freeze, your eyes widening, and you stare at the words, heat creeping up your neck.

Oh.

Oh, no.

That sounded a lot less innocent than it did in your head. You glance at the commlink, waiting for a response, a wave of panic sweeping over you. He's typing, and then the text disappears, only to reappear a second later. The cycle repeats, and you swallow, the silence growing heavier.

Your mind races, and your face is on fire. You didn't mean to imply...it was a joke. It's not like you've been sending him messages like that, or that he'd send them to you, or that either of you have thought about that.

Except, now you are thinking about it.

You groan and run a hand over your face, forcing yourself to calm down. You're making a mountain out of a molehill. Rex is a professional. He's not going to assume you're propositioning him, even if the idea had crossed your mind once or twice. Even if you've teased him, joked around, and, yes, maybe flirted more than you'd ever admit.

This is fine. Everything's fine. It's just a little joke. A little fun. Nothing wrong with that. He'll laugh. Or not. Either way, you can deal with it. This is not the end of the world. You can talk your way out of this. You've done it before. Rex will understand. It's fine.

He's still typing.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves, and then your comm starts to buzz, a staccato beat that has your heart leaping into your throat. He's calling.

He's actually calling.

Your eyes go wide, and your pulse races, a rush of adrenaline flooding your body. For a moment, you can't move. You stare at the screen, unable to breathe, and then, a strange calm settles over you, and your hand moves of its own accord, tapping the button. The ringing stops, and you bring the comm to your ear, bracing yourself.

"Hello?"

There's a pause, and then a chuckle, deep and rich, and you shiver, warmth spreading through your body.

"Hi," Rex says. His voice is rough, and there's an edge to it, a husky rasp. It's doing something to you, something that shouldn't happen, but does anyway. "Sorry, I figured this would be easier. My hands are cramping from writing all these reports."

"Oh," you breathe. He's never called before, and it takes you a moment to collect yourself. You're a little surprised by how different it feels. There's a closeness, an intimacy, that isn't present when you're typing, and it's...distracting. You can hear his breathing, his slight sigh, and you can imagine the smile on his face, the dimple in his cheek.

"Is everything okay?" he asks hesitantly, and you blink, snapping back to the present. "You sound..."

"No! No, sorry, everything's fine," you assure him. A nervous laugh escapes you, and you run a hand through your hair. "I was just surprised, that's all. I didn't think you'd call."

"Ah. Sorry, I should've asked first," he says. There's a brief pause, and then he continues, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "If it's too weird, we can just message. It's not a big deal."

"It's fine, Rex. I don't mind. It's actually kind of nice." You lean back against the couch, letting out a small sigh, and you can hear him do the same. "What's up?"

"Nothing, really. I just..." Rex trails off, and you can hear a shuffle of movement, the sound of fabric brushing against the speaker. He's laying down, you realize, and the image of him sprawled out on his bed, the comm nestled against his ear, makes you bite your lip. 

"Just what?" you prompt, trying to keep your tone casual. You can hear him inhale, a low sigh, and his voice is softer, quieter, when he speaks.

"I don't know," he mutters. "I guess I just wanted to hear your voice."

The admission takes you by surprise, and your lips part, a lump forming in your throat. You swallow, trying to dislodge the feeling. It's sweet, and unexpected, and it's making you feel things that you can't, and shouldn't, be feeling. But it's not like he's confessing his love or anything. He's just a friend, and friends miss each other. It's nothing.

"Oh." You clear your throat, and you give a small laugh. You close your eyes and lean your head back, pressing the comm closer to your ear, letting the sound of his breathing wash over you. "Well, here I am."

"Here you are," he echoes.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" you ask, a teasing edge to your words. "Kittens? Politics? The weather?"

Rex snorts, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes.

"Maybe not politics," he replies, a smirk in his voice. "I think we're both tired of that."

"True,” you sigh. "Kittens, then?"

"No," he groans. "Absolutely not."

"Fine," you huff. You open your eyes, staring up at the ceiling, a small smile on your lips. "Then, what do you suggest?"

He's silent for a moment, considering.

"How was your day?" he finally asks. "I'm guessing it wasn't nearly as exciting as mine."

You hesitate, and Rex picks up on the pause immediately.

"What happened?" he asks, his voice suddenly sharp, all traces of humor gone.

"Nothing," you assure him. "I'm fine. It was just a rough day."

"That's not nothing." He lets out a soft breath, and you can hear him shifting again. He must be sitting up, because his voice is more distant, and you can no longer hear him breathing. "How's the Council treating you? Still giving you the run around?"

"You could say that," you say, your lips twisting into a frown.

"What's going on?"

You sigh and rub a hand over your face, pinching the bridge of your nose. Your head thumps against the back of the couch, and you glare at the ceiling, trying to keep the anger out of your tone.

"They're avoiding me, Rex," you admit through gritted teeth. Just thinking about it makes you seethe. You've been patient, as patient as possible, but the constant excuses and the blatant disregard for your questions have worn your temper thin. You're tired of being ignored, and it's getting harder and harder to hold back the frustration. "They won't answer my questions, and they're hiding something. I can feel it."

"I'm sorry," he says, and his sincerity soothes some of your irritation. "Any idea what?"

"None." You frown and shift, bringing your knees up and hugging them. "It's driving me crazy. I'm worried that they've found out about our..."

You trail off, unable to say the word. There's no point in hiding it, not when Rex is the one you're talking to, but saying it aloud feels too risky, too dangerous. You can't even put it into words, and the idea that the Council might know scares you more than you'd like to admit.

Rex, however, doesn't have that problem.

"Friendship?" he finishes, and his voice is steady, his tone neutral. "Yeah, I know."

"It's stupid, right? We've been so careful." You groan and rest your chin on your knees, staring at a spot on the floor. "They shouldn't even be paying attention to me, not with everything else going on."

"We're not doing anything wrong," he reminds you, and there's a hint of defensiveness in his words, a sharpness that surprises you. "You have every right to make friends."

"I know. I'm not saying we're doing anything bad. It's just...hard for me to not feel like they’re judging me." You chew on your bottom lip, your fingers clenching around your shins. "Sometimes, I feel like I'm being watched, like they're looking over my shoulder, waiting for me to screw up."

"They're not," he tells you, his voice softening. “They have no reason to. Don't let them get to you, alright? If they're trying to intimidate you, don't fall for it. You've done nothing wrong."

"I know that, and you know that, but why won't they listen to me?" you ask, exasperated. You let out a sigh and slump forward, your chin resting on your knees. "I feel like I'm being punished, but I don't even know what for. All I want is some answers. Is that really so much to ask?"

"No," he agrees. "It's not. Have you talked to General Kenobi? Maybe he can help."

"I tried, but he's being just as stubborn as the rest of them. He keeps saying he can't do anything, that it's not his decision, and I need to be patient." You huff and shake your head. "Like hell."

"I'm sure they'll come around," Rex offers, but his tone is laced with doubt. "They can't ignore you forever. Eventually, they'll have to give in."

"Why?" you scoff. "They didn't care when Yaddle went missing. They did the same thing then. And, now, I have evidence. Actual proof. And I just—"

You pause, the words catching in your throat, and your mouth snaps shut.

The bowl in front of you is rattling, the chopsticks clinking against the rim, and you reach out, steadying the dish with a shaking hand before its contents can slosh onto the datapad. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves, and when you speak again, your voice is calmer, steadier.

"Sorry, I'm...sorry," you mumble, ashamed. "I didn't mean to...this is supposed to be relaxing. Forget it."

"No, it's alright," Rex assures you. "I know this has been hard for you."

You swallow and nod, though he can't see you. Your hands fist in your robe, gripping at the material, and you press the comm closer to your ear, as if that will bring you closer to him. His breathing is slow, steady, and you try to mirror it, matching your breaths to his.

"It's fine. I shouldn't be unloading on you like this. It's not fair." You let out a weak chuckle, forcing a note of levity into your tone. "You've got enough to deal with. You don't need my problems."

"Hey."

The word is firm, and his tone makes your chest ache. You swallow and take a deep breath, blinking back the tears that are threatening to spill.

"You can talk to me, you know," he says quietly. "And you're allowed to be upset. Even if the Jedi Code says otherwise. I'm not gonna judge."

"That advice sounds familiar," you tease, your fingers tracing the edge of the bowl. "Who said it, again?"

"I don't remember," he lies.

"Uh huh," you murmur, and a faint smile tugs at your lips.

"Yeah, well. It's good advice. And I should probably take it, too." Rex chuckles, his voice dropping as he adds, "I don't always do a great job of it, though."

"Neither do I," you admit with a snort, and you wipe at your eyes, glancing at the datapad next to you. The box sits behind it, the lid open, the lightsaber and cloak visible.

You think of the night on Null, of Rex's arms wrapped around you, holding you close, and how safe and protected you'd felt. The memory is bittersweet, but the thought of his touch still gives you a measure of comfort. And, it's something that could happen again, if you both let it.

"But I think we're doing alright,” you add softly.

"I'd like to think so," he replies, and you can hear a hint of a smile in his voice.

"Me, too."

"So," Rex begins, his tone gentle. "What do you need, right now?"

The question catches you off guard, and you blink, trying to think of a response. The truth is, you're not sure. There's a part of you that just wants to curl up in bed and cry, or scream, or do something, anything, to make yourself feel better. But, another part, a larger part, wants nothing more than to see him.

You take a deep breath, and then let the air out slowly, your shoulders relaxing.

"This," you confess, and your voice is barely a whisper. "Just this. Just talking."

"Good," he murmurs. "Me too."

"Good," you repeat.

There's a long pause, and you listen to the sound of his breathing, the soft hum of the comm. He's silent, but there's a warmth in the connection, and you can feel the tension leaving your body, the stress and frustration easing. Rex is a comforting presence, a familiar one, and, for the first time in weeks, you feel safe.

The conversation moves easily from there, the two of you talking about everything and nothing. You share stories, jokes, memories, and he listens, his laughter soft and rich. He tells you about his brothers, and you tell him about Obi-Wan, and it feels normal, natural.

It's clear Rex is trying to keep things light, the jokes frequent. He's a good distraction, and you appreciate it. He knows the right things to say, the right moments to be serious, and he knows when to just listen.

And it's easy, falling into the rhythm. He's good company, and the way he speaks is charming, his sense of humor dry and sarcastic. It's exactly what you need. He doesn't try to fix anything, doesn't try to give advice or tell you what to do. He just listens, and talks, and the tension slowly melts away. It's a nice feeling, one that you haven't felt in a while.

Before you know it, hours have passed. You're sprawled out on the floor, a blanket draped over you, and you're staring up at the ceiling, the glow of the city lights spilling through the window. The stars are hidden by the clouds, but the lights are a comfort, and the hum of the traffic fills the room. It's peaceful, and quiet, and you find yourself wishing that Rex was here, next to you. It would be nice, laying here together, watching the lights, talking. Just being.

There's a soft sound, like fabric brushing against the speaker, and then Rex is yawning.

"Sorry," he mutters, his voice muffled. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

You frown, a twinge of guilt in your stomach. "Rex, why didn't you say something?"

He sighs, and there's a rustling noise, the creak of metal as he shifts his weight. You can imagine him in the darkness of his quarters, the soft glow of his datapad illuminating his face, the sheets tangled around his legs.

"Because then you'd hang up," he murmurs, his voice soft, a trace of amusement in his tone. "And I didn't want you to."

The confession is enough to make you pause, and you feel your heart skip a beat, a flush creeping up your neck. You've known, of course, that he's enjoying your conversations, but hearing him say it is something else entirely.

"Yeah?" you say, keeping your tone light.

"Yeah," he replies. "You're...it's nice."

"I don't want to hang up either," you admit, and you hear him hum in acknowledgement. "But, you should get some rest. We've both got long days ahead."

He grunts, and you hear a thud, as if he's tossed something to the floor. "Right."

"Are you going to sleep?" you ask, a hint of suspicion in your voice.

"Yeah. In a minute," he grumbles. "I just need to finish this report."

You scoff and roll your eyes. "Rex."

"Alright, alright," he relents. Rex takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. After a long pause, he speaks, his voice soft. "Are you free tomorrow? Or, well, today, technically. I'll be planetside in the afternoon."

You blink, and a smile tugs at your lips, warmth blossoming in your chest. You roll over onto your side, the blanket falling around you.

"I might be able to squeeze you in," you tease. "Why, did you have something in mind?"

He laughs, and there's a muffled sound, like he's pressed his face against the pillow. You can imagine him sprawled out on his bunk, a hand covering his eyes, his lips pulled into a smirk. The image is more appealing than it should be, and you have to remind yourself that you're not supposed to be thinking about him like that.

"I do, actually," he says slowly. "You can tell me if I'm overstepping, but I called in a few favors, and I have some information about...well, the Council's been avoiding you, and I know you're not going to sit around and wait for them to change their minds..."

You wait, your brows rising. "What?"

Rex pauses, and his voice drops, a hint of nervousness in his tone. "It's just some security footage of the night she went missing. And impound records for a ship. I'm not sure how much of it is useful, but it's something. Maybe it'll help."

Your heart skips a beat, and you sit up, the blanket pooling in your lap. You stare down at the comm, your eyes wide, your pulse racing.

"You what?" you breathe, barely able to speak.

"I didn't mean to pry, but...I was curious. And, I thought, maybe you'd be able to use it. I figured if I didn't try, I'd regret it," he explains, and there's a note of trepidation in his voice. He's speaking faster now, the words coming out in a rush. "It's probably not helpful, and I didn't want to get your hopes up, but—"

"Rex," you say, and he falls silent. You close your eyes, trying to process the information. This is not what you were expecting, and the sudden burst of excitement is giving way to a strange mix of confusion and shock. You let out a breath, your shoulders slumping. "I...Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," he mutters. "It could be a bust. It's probably a bust. But, if you want it, it's yours."

You can’t help but smile slightly, and you run a hand through your hair, the locks slipping between your fingers.

"When did you find time to do this?" you ask, trying to picture him searching through files and archives while he was in the middle of a battle. He must have pulled a lot of strings, called in a lot of favors, just to get this information. And, he did it for you. Just because he thought it might help.

"Ah, here and there," Rex replies casually. "I've been working on it for a while, but I had some help from a friend."

"A friend, huh?" You hum, and you pull the blanket around your shoulders, hugging your knees. "I hope it wasn't too much trouble."

"It's worth it," he says, and the conviction in his voice makes your chest ache.

You swallow, and you stare at your hands, a lump forming in your throat. He's not even trying to be charming, and he's making you weak. You can't remember ever feeling this way, and it scares you. He scares you. How can someone make you feel so much, with only a few words?

"Well, thank you," you murmur, not knowing what else to say. "Seriously. I mean it. You have no idea what this means to me, Rex. I don't know how I can repay you."

"You can buy me lunch," he quips. "That'll work."

You snort. "That's it? That's all you want?"

"Yeah. Unless there's something else you're offering." 

Rex gives a low laugh, and your breath catches, a shiver running down your spine. The comment is innocent, but the way he says it makes your heart race, the words sending a flurry of images through your mind. You bite your lip, the flush spreading up your neck.

"We'll see," you manage, your voice steady. "You'll have to ask nicely."

There’s a beat of silence, and you can practically hear him thinking, his brain working. He doesn't respond right away, and you wait, listening to him breathe. The tension is thick, and your pulse races, and, just when you're about to say something, his voice crackles through, deep and rough.

"Um, right." He clears his throat, and you hear him shift, his sheets rustling. "I'll...keep that in mind."

You can't help but smirk, a small chuckle escaping your lips. His reaction is exactly what you were hoping for. You only wish you could see his face and the blush that is no doubt spreading across his cheeks.

"You do that." You sigh and sit up, stretching your arms over your head. You catch sight of the chrono and grimace. It's late, later than you'd thought. The two of you have been talking for a few hours, and the time has flown by.

"I should go," you say reluctantly, and he lets out a noise of disappointment. "I'm sorry I kept you up. You should get some rest."

"No, I'm glad we talked." His voice is warm, and you can hear the smile in his words. "It was worth the lost sleep. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sounds good."

"And, uh...just be careful, alright?" Rex hesitates, and you hear him take a deep breath, as if he's trying to steady himself. "Promise me. I've got a bad feeling about this, and I don't want you to get hurt."

"I can take care of myself," you protest, but there's no heat behind it. You can't bring yourself to be annoyed, not when he sounds so worried. It's endearing, really. And, a little annoying, but mostly sweet.

"I know you can,” he sighs. “Just humor me."

"Okay," you relent. You offer a reassuring smile, despite the fact that he can't see you. "I promise."

"Good."

There's another long pause, and neither of you seem to want to hang up. The silence is comfortable, and there's a warmth in it, a closeness. You find yourself wanting to stay like this, with him, just listening. It feels nice. And safe.

"Sleep well, Rex," you murmur, your voice quiet.

"You too." He yawns again, and you can hear him moving, rolling over. His voice is muffled when he speaks, his words barely audible. "Goodnight."

You wait, your eyes fluttering shut, and you press your forehead against your knees, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"Night," you whisper.

The line goes dead, and you put your commlink aside on the floor. You exhale, letting out a slow breath, and you lay back, your hands clasped on your stomach. You feel giddy, light, and you can't remember the last time you felt this way. It's a foreign feeling, but it's nice, and you want to hold onto it for as long as possible.

You should be mad, you think. The Council is withholding information from you, and they're ignoring you, and it's frustrating beyond words. It's the last thing you expected, and it's not fair. 

But Rex has made it his personal mission to help you. He's gone above and beyond, and he did it without hesitation, without you ever asking him for it.

It's a risk. If anyone finds out, there will be consequences, for both of you. He could lose his position, his reputation. His loyalty to the Republic could be questioned. And, for what? A woman he's known for little more than a year, a Jedi Master, no less. It's foolish. He could get into a lot of trouble, and yet, he did it anyway. For you. 

It's a kind act, and the best gift you could've received. And it means more to you that you could ever put into words.

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[niceonejames7]

i will never get the regulus hate and him getting reduced to a death eater when he was only 17 when he died. he was still a CHILD!!!

sirius ran away from his home when he 15, two years younger than regulus when he has died. before that, sirius bore the brunt of the hit. he ran away because he had no other choice. he would've died in that house, they would have let him rot. sirius didn't abandon regulus, he was a teenager who needed to escape a home which hated him viciously.

but some of you seem to forget that regulus was also a kid. I'm not saying I'd do what he did, but as a younger sibling, i understand his actions. in his perspective, in his 'little brother' perspective, the only person he loved left him. the only person who protected him left. and maybe that thought was a bit selfish, selfish in the same way sirius leaving was. but he was now alone, and the single target for his mother's vehement hatred. because for his mother, maybe regulus wasn't as hated as sirius, but he was a reminder of her failure of a son. the unresolved, twisted grief and anger and hatred that she felt for sirius translated towards regulus. he was alone in that house, seeing the consequences of leaving.

he knew what would happen, then why would he leave? a year later he's in his fifth year and he knows he can't leave or he'll have no one. not sirius, not his family. so he believes what his parents tell him, and he praises the dark lord and he takes the dark mark as his parents want him to. as he sees his friends and family do. regulus joins the death eaters and sees a determination that he can't find in himself. almost no one seems like they were forced here like he was. they want to be there. they believe in their cruelty. he realises he doesn't.

regulus black died on his first mission where he defied the dark lord because he was sure he would have nothing to come back to.

because that was difference between them. sirius had james, he would always have james. regulus had no one.

[wolfiemcwolferson]

"watching a movie or show that they know they're interested in" for piarles ofc :)))

Well.

Part two of this....

It's selfish.

It's completely and totally selfish.

Ferrari lines up a list of people they've vetted and approved and Charles smiles at them and says no to each and every one until they throw their hands up and ask him what he wants - who he wants.

The phone call is probably all of five minutes of Charles talking too fast and Pierre humming any second that Charles is not speaking, but he agrees at the end of it and Charles promises him the money will be good, and then he feels bad about it for a whole ten days.

Because Pierre is proud of the life he clawed out for himself after and he has a lot of pride in his job and it's never been about the money, but Charles knows that it will be nice for Pierre to not worry about things so much...and also it's selfish.

Charles doesn't see him enough - talk to him enough - and maybe it's ridiculous or childish that he is 27 and still fully in love with someone that has no idea and will never love him back, but he thinks he deserves to be a little selfish after last season.

Pierre returns the signed contract and Charles spends the two weeks before their arranged pre-season training camp trying to make everything perfect.

He has so many opinions about the branded Ferrari gear that they send for Pierre, he ends up ordering some himself in the designs and sizes he wants.

Charles gets in an honest to god shouting match with the hotel because they tell him they have no adjoining rooms when Charles knows that's not true, and Joris looks at him so sharply that Charles goes to his room to hide and when he comes back out, Joris has booked them a house.

He triple checks with the rental company that they have all of Pierre's listed foods that he wants to incorporate into Charles' diet and he downloads roughly 280 hours of US American sitcoms because that used to be the way Pierre liked to unwind.

Charles has no idea if he still likes that because the last two years...well, the last two years have been about Charles.

Charles losing the championship, Charles in the bad car, Charles dealing with an injury.

And when Pierre would come to a race, it was about Charles. When Charles would call Pierre, it was about Charles.

That's why it's so selfish. Because this is still about Charles.

He has nothing to offer Pierre except for a little bit of money and paddock passes for all of his brothers at any race they want and 280 hours of various sitcoms that hopefully will be a balm for Pierre after a turbulent flight or a long triple header or Charles being a little shit in the gym because he's tired.

my flight got cancelled, Pierre texts as Charles is googling where he can buy Season 1 of that one show with the lesser Chris from those Marvel movies. I can hop on one to nice tonight instead? get on the jet with you tomorrow? let me know

yes, Charles texts back faster than he ever has, I am just downloading sitcoms for you

Pierre doesn't text back for a long time. For so long that Charles is considering using that silly unsend option in imessage, but finally he responds.

I think I am the one meant to be taking care of you this season? but thank you, cha and then there's a screenshot of his new flight that lands in six hours

Charles is trying to determine if he can go get him - if he can risk going to get him, or maybe Joris, he could work that out, surely. He could work that out.

I am looking forward to watching sitcoms with you on planes

It's not much - it's hardly anything. But, Charles is looking forward to the long season with many planes and a lot of Pierre.

[homemadebabka]

also btw there’s just something about luffy that i cannot explain. wanted to make a post about what sets him apart from other “will never give up ever under any circumstance” protagonists but i just like. couldn’t. i don’t know what it is about him but ive never loved a character like him it’s probably just magic or something

[bunnieswithknives]

(nature au) you said that while dale dislikes dev using a cane in the house he doesn’t really care too much, but what if dev used a cane in public? i can’t imagine dale would be okay with that at all. he’d be pissed, like confiscate the cane kind of pissed

Originally the gag here was just going to be Dev clinging onto his dads arm for dear life while he shivers like a chihuahua but he is just. So small.. I couldnt get it to look reasonable

Bonus:

[nelkcats]

And they were roommates

After years of living on his own in the Infinite Realms, something strange began to happen to the retired hero. Every time Danny closed his eyes to sleep, a life that was not his own played in his head. And he began to see memories of someone who had passed away, from his birth to his death. That would be fine if he didn't remember the dreams in such detail.

Unfortunately when the first dream kept repeating itself continuously, and Danny investigated, he discovered that it was not a normal nightmare and was the life of someone real. Someone who wanted a closure.

Every time he woke up, he found himself feeling the same as in the dream. Which led him to do a couple of things: yell at Nocturne (who strangely had nothing to do with it), annoy Clockwork (who was definitely involved), and solve crimes that had been deemed "impossible", and bring them to an appropriate end.

The police were extremely confused when a note from "Sleepy King" was next to the evidence of a cold case. The truth is that Danny wanted to sleep, and the souls were extremely insistent about their 'unfinished business' that came to haunt him in his sleep.

Every time he cracked a case he earned a few hours of uninterrupted sleep or downright disturbing memories, but that wasn't enough. Unfortunately, it seemed that solving the cases was only attracting more souls, and he was starting to regret wanting to help. He had ended his life as a hero for a reason.

Usually his notes to the police would say something along the lines of "I'm doing this for me, not for you, good night" or some similar nonsense. The halfa was tired, very very tired, dreaming with memories wasn't fun or pretty, it was exhausting, the deaths made his skin crawl and his insomnia worse. He didn't want to relive the deaths of anyone else, but he had no way to scare away the souls.

When Martha Wayne showed up in his dreams showing him about a "court of owls" Danny made up his mind. This had to stop. He had been a hero but he retired. And it wasn't that he hated the souls, he just wanted to sleep, the mental exhaustion was too much.

So he did the stupidest thing possible: he hired Constantine (pretending to be a fairly normal human client, getting his attention after offering a lot of alcohol and some useless books from the Realms as payment) to make him a dream catcher or some wizard thing. All he wanted was something to help him sleep.

Constantine couldn't do that of course. The hellbazer was disturbed by the man with more than three hundred avenging spirits swarming. That was fucked up. So he offered him the only solution he could think of: inviting him to sleep at his house. A place where spirits could not pass without permission. It wasn't a permanent fix, but it would work for a while.

John had no idea why he was doing so much for a client (inviting him to his house? bold move), but the man looked so desperate, and he was fucking cute. If he could get an adventure or two out of it he wouldn't complain.

Constantine's guest bed felt like heaven to the halfa, despite being almost destroyed. Danny repeatedly thanked, and before they both knew it: they were roomies, lived in the same place, took turns cooking or cleaning, etc. They grew comfortable with each other to the point that Danny answered Justice League Dark's calls on a few occasions.

And well, if Constantine stopped rushing to find a long-term solution that was his business, and his alone, okay? Zatanna's comment asking when he got married was fucking out of place.

[typhoonvash]

@goldendivinewrath

The glaring gravestones continue to make Canary uncomfortable. They remind him far too much about that fateful day when the ships fell, and then he ran. Ran as fast as he could while crying. Faster than he ever had.

Even then, he hadn't escaped the rotting hands that wanted to pull him under the sand for vengeance. Eventually he did give in, did want to die, but...

They reach the imposing cast iron gate after he lets the silence hang; he ponders the meaning of this Vash's words—has he always been this frustrating to get an answer from? He supposes that he does it on purpose, so yes. Canary reaches for the oversized padlock and chain dangling unlocked from one end of the partially opened gate and takes it into his hand to analyze it.

"I was running too," Canary eventually mumbles, "I let him get too close. He found me and reminded me who I was and then I just... bolted." There's no need to address who 'he' is, they both know. "I thought, maybe... if I did that then no one would have to get hurt. He wouldn't get hurt. He could... focus on other, more important things. Protecting them, I mean."

It's selfish to want anything more from Wolfwood. It's selfish to want him to find Canary, lost in the desert somewhere, not causing trouble... it's selfish to want—

He drops the chain and lock, allowing them to hang where they were. Stepping outside, Canary's able to see the details of the gate. There are... what appear to be letters, but not from any language he knows. They're almost uncanny—he's not sure the alphabet they draw from is real.

There's an announcement on a poster near the entrance, so Canary takes a look at that next. It seems to be a warning of some kind, but again, the language isn't anything he knows. The words may as well be blurs on the page.

"I'm not sure what I was doing right before finding you. Maybe I was resting...?"

Yearning.

The bell continues to toll in the distance. The silent black birds watch them from wires and rooftops with cocked heads and open beaks. They are the audience, while the Vashes are the actors. A sudden breeze stirs and Canary is almost sure he recognizes the voices it carries to his ears in a whispered hush.

"I can't stop running," he continues, as if it's a response to the hisses in his ears, "If I do then—"

Something cracks underneath steel-plated boots. Canary draws his foot back, terrified to look down but does so anyway. Whatever words he was about to say die in a breath as he stares at a shattered pair of sunglasses, cracked in half at the bridge.

@typhoonvash

Graveyard. The word spoken aloud makes it real. Not that it hasn't been real the entire time (as real as anything else around them, he supposes), but it feels inescapable when it's a word. Seen and heard and felt.

No, not inescapable; that's the point. They need to escape. Leave. Move on. Not words he wants to think about at the moment.

The crows make almost no noise. That's the eeriest thing, as far as Vash is concerned; there's a rush of indistinct movement but the appearance of crows, already moving, startles him slightly. He knows what they are. He can even recite some of what they've supposedly been known to represent, but--

He'd rather not. Really. He gets the same sort of unsettled weight in his stomach when he looks back to Canary, sees him looking around and follows his gaze to the gravestones. All of them facing toward the... visitors? Intruders? (There's another word. He doesn't know it yet. "Prisoner" is to strong, isn't it?) Yeah, that's... not supposed to happen. He's pretty sure. Graveyards are supposed to be peaceful, wound up being sad, but not... accusatory.

Right, yeah, time to go. "The sooner the better." He agrees, keeping pace a bit closer than he normally would. It's only paranoia, right? The horror that he'd very unwisely decided he was more than old enough to read or watch was just making him twitchy. Making them twitchy. Still, exiting feels like the best plan, and definitely not thinking about any ways in which it could get far worse outside. No, no possibilities, no imagining, straight up nope. He can distract himself for hours when he needs to, right?

Which does not specifically mean getting distracted by his other self, though he'd have taken it gladly if the question wasn't... that. What was he doing? What... was he doing... And how does he explain without giving up too much detail? "I was just deciding to move on again. To... leave a place I'd been for a while." Almost too vague to be an answer, but that's more truth than he admitted to himself at the time. Disappearing into the night once more if he could. It should have been a positive thing, full of hope, full of promise, but his thoughts had turned to blank tickets claimed alone.

"Maybe I--" He stops then. Stops speaking, not walking. He knows, doesn't he? Hadn't he known details only moments ago? "I probably... tried to leave at night so no one would follow me." He... can't remember. "Or I-- I was sure no one would mind me leaving in the middle of the day..?" Stop talking, he needs to stop talking.

Does it have anything to do with why he's here? He doesn't know. He can't know. But there's a very significant portion of him racing to say yes.

Had he finally decided to leave without giving thought to returning?

[suddencolds]

insatiable appetite [1/?]

sooo... this is one of the thirstiest things i have written—and also one of the only times i've written a character with the kink, ever T.T warnings in advance for mess, character getting sneezed on, implied contagion, possible ooc-ness, & me writing this entirely with my d instead of my head

ivan and till are from al//ien sta//ge (a very fun watch which will only take 30 mins out of your life; i really recommend it!!). that said, this fic takes place in a modern au setting, so feel free to read it without any prior context :)

special thanks to @6pmsoup for sending me a very cute alnst doodle of these two which altered my brain chemistry permanently

—

Summary: Till shows up to a dinner outing with a brewing cold. Ivan suffers. (est. relationship, kink!Ivan, ~2k words)

—

For all Till tries to hide it, Ivan can tell immediately.

There’s this: Ivan has been paying attention to Till for most of his life. A full decade before they’d gotten together officially, and some more—this is how long Ivan has had to observe his tells. Always from the sidelines, always with a detached air of indifference that, in reality, was anything but.

All the signs are there the night before. Till, turning up the thermostat a couple degrees higher than he usually keeps it. Spending a little too long in the shower and using up almost all of the hot water. Clearing his throat one too many times in the morning before Ivan leaves for work, his smile distracted, the rasp of his voice nearly indistinguishable—but only nearly.

Now, Till is here for dinner—it’s a dinner they’ve had plans for a couple weeks now, at one of the nicer restaurants downtown, in celebration of Till’s recent promotion. Ivan had booked the reservation a couple weeks in advance.

When Till arrives, stepping out of a taxi cab, he’s wearing a scarf, even though the weather is too warm for it. Ivan steps up to meet him. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Till says. “Traffic here was the worst I’ve ever seen it, swear to god.”

“Was it cold outside today?” Ivan asks, a little pointedly, tilting his head towards his scarf.

Till looks at him, his expression unreadable. Then he nods. “Colder than usual, for this time of year.”

“Strange,” Ivan says, just to be difficult. “But the weather forecast says it’s the same temperature today as yesterday.” 

“It’s probably just windier today,” Till says, readjusting his scarf around his neck. His face is a little flushed.

“Your voice sounds a little off, though.”

Till clears his throat with a scowl. “You must be imagining it,” he says. “It always sounds like this.”

No admission, then. That’s fine. Ivan will get the truth out of him at some point. He lets Till guide him into the restaurant.

It’s a nice restaurant—worth the hassle of the reservation, Ivan thinks. Each table is set with flowers arranged tastefully in long glass vases, empty wine glasses turned on their heads. The server—who leads them to their table in a small, private booth—is wearing a suit.

It’s a shame, really. Ivan has a feeling that he won’t be able to pay attention to any of that tonight.

They sit. Ivan looks down at the menu, picks out something at random in a matter of seconds. Truthfully, he can hardly think of anything less worth his attention right now. He turns his attention to Till instead—Till, who’s seated directly across from him, the scarf still around his neck, obscuring the lower half of his face. 

Till sniffles, reaching down to turn the page, and oh. The sniffle is terribly liquid—has he been sniffling like that all afternoon? Perhaps it’s a good thing that they work at different offices—Till at a law firm, Ivan as a senior manager at a consulting company—because Ivan certainly doesn’t think he’d be able to get any work done with Till sniffling like that. 

It’s not two minutes later that Till is reaching up to wipe his nose against the back of one knuckle. All in all, it’s discreet. Just a quick brush of the fingers against his nose, which is still hidden under the scarf. Though, the look of sheer ticklishness that passes over his features for a brief moment there is...

“What are you thinking of ordering?” Ivan asks.

“I can’t decide,” Till answers. He turns the page again. “It’s between the ribeye steak and the… snf! The pork belly. Is this the kind of place that skimps on the portion sizes?”

“Not from their Yelp reviews,” Ivan says. “You know, if you really can’t decide, I can flip a coin.”

“I’ll pick,” Till says. “Why? Hungry already?”

He looks up, now. His eyes are a little watery. There’s a faint flush over the bridge of his nose. Ivan thinks that if he reached out and touched him, he’d probably be running warm. The thought is almost unbearable.

“Your taxi did take forever to arrive,” Ivan says, by way of explanation. 

“Did you really wait that long?”

He looks uncertain, for a moment. Ivan says, “Not at all. But you know, I’m always impatient when it comes to you.”

Till rolls his eyes, but it’s fond. “There was a meeting that ran late. I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Is that also a part of your new position?” “I guess so, yeah.”

“I can see why they were eager to promote you, then,” Ivan says. “How productive can late afternoon meetings be, anyways?”

Till snorts. “Not that important. It definitely could have been an email instead. I was about ready to doze off.”

He sniffles again. “Okay. I think I know what I want.” The way he says know betrays the slightest hint of congestion. 

“At long last,” Ivan says, just to be a little bit of an ass. “I’ll call over the waiter.”

He flags their waiter down, waits for Till to order first.

“A spiced apple cider,” Till adds on, at the end, with the slightest of coughs. “Hot, if you can.”

That’s new, too. Till seldom orders hot drinks at restaurants, though he’ll drink tea without complaint if it’s offered. Perhaps his throat hurts, then, from the cold that has clearly started to settle in his system. Subtle, still, but Ivan is familiar with colds like this. He knows it will probably only be a few hours before this deceptively “small” cold turns into…

Ivan orders, too, and thanks the waiter, who leaves with a curt nod. When he looks back over to Till, there’s a… strange something to Till’s expression, a slight distractedness. Irritation.

Ivan swallows hard. He should look away. 

He should, but then, Till’s breath hitches. He pulls the scarf higher over his face preemptively, as if he anticipates having something to have to cover for. The sharp intake of breath that follows is breathy, though Ivan can hear Till’s voice in it. He should really look away.

Instead, he takes the scene in, painstakingly, little by little, as Till’s shoulders jerk forwards. As Till presses a hand to the scarf, presses the fabric closer to his face, to muffle a sneeze into his fingertips:

“hhH-Ih!! hiHH-’IESCHH-eew-!”

God. It sounds utterly miserable, the harsh release of it scraping against his throat, the spray tearing into his scarf. It’s the kind of cold sneeze that is undeniably telling: this is going to be one hell of a cold. It’s not very quiet, either, even muffled into the fabric.

For more reasons than one, Ivan is glad they’re in a private corner of the restaurant, not somewhere more public.

“Bless you,” he offers, once he can trust himself to speak. It’s a good thing that Till is too distracted to look up at him right now. Ivan isn’t sure he can keep what he’s feeling off of his face.

Truthfully, he isn’t sure he’s going to be able to endure a whole night of this.

The problem here is that Till—Till, of all people; Till, who Ivan has been pathetically in love with for almost as long as he can remember—has no idea about Ivan’s… relatively niche interests. That is to say, he has no idea what effect it has on Ivan when he does that.

“Thanks,” Till says, a little stuffily. He sniffles again, lowering his hand. 

Ivan can’t help it. He knows he shouldn’t pursue this line of questioning, but he can feel his self-control dwindling by the second. “Don’t you think it would be better to take off your scarf, now that we’re inside?”

Till freezes. “Y-You know what,” he says evasively. “It’s pretty cold in here.”

Ivan tilts his head in question. “And just how do you plan on eating like that?”

“I’ll take it off when our food comes.”

“I can ask the waiter to turn the temperature up, if it’s a problem,” Ivan says. 

“It’s not a problem.”

Ivan rises from his seat. Till watches him, perplexed, as he heads to the opposite side of the table, where Till is seated.

When he gets there, he stops. Stands, unmoving, so he can study Till from above. 

“What are you—”

Ivan reaches out, settles his palm across Till’s forehead. As expected, it’s warm. Not quite feverish, which is a good sign, but warm enough to be notable. 

“Just how long were you intending to hide this?”

Till stares back at him, wide-eyed. “Hide what?”

Shouldn’t it be obvious? “The fact that you have a cold.”

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” Till says, slowly.

“Hmm.” Ivan drops his hand to his side. He is a little concerned, now. “We could’ve called a rain check.”

This time Till really does roll his eyes. “For the reservation we planned weeks ahead?” he sniffles again. “That just sounds completely and utterly unnecessary. Are you the type of person to call things off just over a little cold?” 

Ivan leans over, tugs down the edge of Till’s scarf. Till bats his hand away just a moment too late, cups his other hand over his face to shield his face from view. For a moment, he looks faintly mortified.

Then his expression settles into something more disgruntled. “What are you doing?” he hisses.

So uncooperative. “Let me see,” Ivan says. Slowly, gently, he pries Till’s hands away from his face, and then—because the restaurant is dimly lit—tilts Till’s face up slightly so that it catches more of the overhead light. 

Till’s nose is redder than usual. He’s probably been rubbing it all afternoon, if the redness that percolates into his cheeks is any indication. There’s  a damp, liquid sheen on the underside of his nose.

“What’s there to see?” Till says, a little crossly.

“Your face, since you’ve been so intent on hiding it under that scarf,” Ivan says, leaning in to get a better look.

Till scowls at him, but there’s no heat to it. “You see my face every day.”

“On the contrary, I don’t see it nearly enough,” Ivan says. “And you hardly ever get sick. Is it so wrong for me to be concerned?”

Without looking, he reaches behind him with one hand to grab a couple cocktail napkins. The other hand he keeps held up to Till’s cheek. 

But then, Till’s breath hitches. “Wait,” he says. Panic flashes through his face. “Ivan, move, I—”

Oh. Well, seeing as there’s no way he’ll be able to get the napkins over in time, it looks like he’ll have to improvise. If Till wants to cover, Ivan can help with that. He moves his hand to cup it loosely over Till’s mouth. Not a second too late, it seems. Till jerks forward unceremoniously, his nose twitching, his eyes squeezing shut.

“hHheh-! HHh’EIITShHh’yYiew!” he gasps sharply. Two? “Hh-! hHiiH’DSSCSSHh-IIew!”  

The jolt of the sneezes is practically electrifying—all of that force, brought to an abrupt halt behind Ivan’s waiting palm. He feels the expulsion of air against his skin, the warmth of Till’s breath, feels the slight dampness behind his hand as the spray mists over his fingertips.

Ivan swallows, hard. Thank god it’s so dark here, otherwise Till might notice what this is doing to him. 

“Bless you,” he says, withdrawing his hand at last to wipe it on one of the cloth napkins. It comes out slightly raspier than he intends it to, though perhaps it’s a miracle that he’s still able to talk at all. “Some cold, hmm?” Belatedly, he hands Till the stack of napkins.

Till practically snatches them from him, turns aside to blow his nose wetly into the top few. The way he sniffles afterwards suggests that his nose is still very much running. 

“Do you have no self preservation? It’s as if you want to catch this,” Till says, drawing back with another sniffle.

Oh, Ivan thinks, fighting back a shiver. That would be far from the worst thing.

[barbrububble]

Mouthwashing spoilers

I really like how the game makes the player feel when playing Curly and still thinking he crushed the ship. I kept looking for signs that he is unwell enough to decide on murder-suicide. He is dishonest on his psych eval. He has a lot of trouble sleeping. He complains a lot. The stairs to the cockpit stretch almost to infinity - does he not want to be there? Does he not trust himself in there? (What's with the sea of blood?) Oh he does want a change of career... but is also wary of it. Now they're all fired. "I just want to be in a place I don't want to fucking escape from! "

And then no, Jimmy did it. All the inner turmoils of Curly were just that and were only "telltale signs leading to the tragedy" in my eyes because I already "knew" what was going to happen. Now it feels both like a play on my expectations as a player and a portrayal of rich inner troubles still being within normalcy.

And also why I dislike people blaming Curly for not recognizing Jimmy's potential to fly off the rails. The clear signs are only clear postfactum. A person can even be toxic, can be capable of harm and assault (which yeah, Curly didn't properly recognize) and still snap in a way that surprises you - or never snap that hard after all.

[authorafterhours]

I can see Will keeping Hannibal’s calcified heart as a keepsake if he outlived him.