#Human-centered Recruiting

[quarecresourcespvtltd]

Elevating Human Connections Generative AI Empowers Recruiters to Prioritize the Heart of Hiring

Discover how Generative AI is transforming recruitment by automating tasks, allowing recruiters to focus on meaningful human connections. Learn how AI-powered hiring enhances efficiency, improves candidate experiences, and helps businesses find the best talent faster. Explore the future of AI-driven recruitment today!

[di-solutions-blogs]

AI Ethics in Hiring: Safeguarding Human Rights in Recruitment

Explore AI ethics in hiring and how it safeguards human rights in recruitment. Learn about AI bias, transparency, privacy concerns, and ethical practices to ensure fairness in AI-driven hiring.

In today's rapidly evolving job market, artificial intelligence (AI) has become a pivotal tool in streamlining recruitment processes. While AI offers efficiency and scalability, it also raises significant ethical concerns, particularly regarding human rights. Ensuring that AI-driven hiring practices uphold principles such as fairness, transparency, and accountability is crucial to prevent discrimination and bias.​Hirebee

The Rise of AI in Recruitment

Employers are increasingly integrating AI technologies to manage tasks like resume screening, candidate assessments, and even conducting initial interviews. These systems can process vast amounts of data swiftly, identifying patterns that might be overlooked by human recruiters. However, the reliance on AI also introduces challenges, especially when these systems inadvertently perpetuate existing biases present in historical hiring data. For instance, if past recruitment practices favored certain demographics, an AI system trained on this data might continue to favor these groups, leading to unfair outcomes. ​

Ethical Concerns in AI-Driven Hiring

Bias and Discrimination AI systems learn from historical data, which may contain inherent biases. If not properly addressed, these biases can lead to discriminatory practices, affecting candidates based on gender, race, or other protected characteristics. A notable example is Amazon's AI recruitment tool, which was found to favor male candidates due to biased training data.

Lack of Transparency Many AI algorithms operate as "black boxes," providing little insight into their decision-making processes. This opacity makes it challenging to identify and correct biases, undermining trust in AI-driven recruitment. Transparency is essential to ensure that candidates understand how decisions are made and to hold organizations accountable.

Privacy Concerns AI recruitment tools often require access to extensive personal data. Ensuring that this data is handled responsibly, with candidates' consent and in compliance with privacy regulations, is paramount. Organizations must be transparent about data usage and implement robust security measures to protect candidate information.

Implementing Ethical AI Practices

To address these ethical challenges, organizations should adopt the following strategies:

Regular Audits and Monitoring Conducting regular audits of AI systems helps identify and mitigate biases. Continuous monitoring ensures that the AI operates fairly and aligns with ethical standards. ​Hirebee+1Recruitics Blog+1Recruitics Blog

Human Oversight While AI can enhance efficiency, human involvement remains crucial. Recruiters should oversee AI-driven processes, ensuring that final hiring decisions consider context and nuance that AI might overlook. ​WSJ+4Missouri Bar News+4SpringerLink+4

Developing Ethical Guidelines Establishing clear ethical guidelines for AI use in recruitment promotes consistency and accountability. These guidelines should emphasize fairness, transparency, and respect for candidate privacy. ​Recruitics Blog

Conclusion

Integrating AI into recruitment offers significant benefits but also poses ethical challenges that must be addressed to safeguard human rights. By implementing responsible AI practices, organizations can enhance their hiring processes while ensuring fairness and transparency. As AI continues to evolve, maintaining a human-centered approach will be essential in building trust and promoting equitable opportunities for all candidates.​

FAQs

What is AI ethics in recruitment? AI ethics in recruitment refers to the application of moral principles to ensure that AI-driven hiring practices are fair, transparent, and respectful of candidates' rights.

How can AI introduce bias in hiring? AI can introduce bias if it is trained on historical data that contains discriminatory patterns, leading to unfair treatment of certain groups.

Why is transparency important in AI recruitment tools? Transparency allows candidates and recruiters to understand how decisions are made, ensuring accountability and the opportunity to identify and correct biases.

What measures can organizations take to ensure ethical AI use in hiring? Organizations can conduct regular audits, involve human oversight, and establish clear ethical guidelines to promote fair and responsible AI use in recruitment.

How does AI impact candidate privacy in the recruitment process? AI systems often require access to personal data, raising concerns about data security and consent. Organizations must be transparent about data usage and implement robust privacy protections.

Can AI completely replace human recruiters? While AI can enhance efficiency, human recruiters are essential for interpreting nuanced information and making context-driven decisions that AI may not fully grasp.

What is the role of regular audits in AI recruitment? Regular audits help identify and mitigate biases within AI systems, ensuring that the recruitment process remains fair and aligned with ethical standards.

How can candidates ensure they are treated fairly by AI recruitment tools? Candidates can inquire about the use of AI in the hiring process and seek transparency regarding how their data is used and how decisions are made.

What are the potential legal implications of unethical AI use in hiring? Unethical AI practices can lead to legal challenges related to discrimination, privacy violations, and non-compliance with employment laws.

How can organizations balance AI efficiency with ethical considerations in recruitment? Organizations can balance efficiency and ethics by integrating AI tools with human oversight, ensuring transparency, and adhering to established ethical guidelines.

[a-la-sante-du-progres]

Happy Barrière du Maine Day

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune - Kris's Birthday

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

Close to the end of their journey, Kris has a small celebration with the beasts, and reflects some on both their past with their brother, and the light world ahead.

(Reminder that I draw these scenes out of chronological order!)

YAY managed to get another part done! This one won the poll, so had to go with it first! At least Kris finally gets a nice, happy moment with all the beasts they've recruited!

Alt text under the read more:

Page 1

Panel 1 - Wide opening shot. Kris sits facing Ralsei, with the rest of the Fun Gang surrounding them. The Gang now consists of Susie, Noelle, Lancer, Berdly, Catti and Jockington, and Monster Kid. The Fun Gang have set up camp in a hollow crater, the landscape around them rocky and barren. Everyone is lit solely by the glow of a campfire in the center of the crater. Ralsei addresses Kris: “Get plenty of rest, Kris.”

Panel 2 - Medium shot of Kris and Ralsei, still across from each other with the fire between them. Ralsei continues, “Tomorrow we face the last bound god before the Dark Fountain…it’ll be our toughest fight yet!” Kris responds, “Yes. I understand.” They stare into the fire.

Panel 3 - Closeup on a happy Ralsei as he holds up one claw. “And since we’re so close to the end…”

Panel 4 - “...I thought I’d conjure up a special surprise for you!” Ralsei moves his claws, and magically congeals a plate, food and frosting all together in a swirling center.

Panel 5 - Ralsei holds up the finished object in front of the fire: a small frosted cake, topped with strawberries. “SURPRISE! Happy birthday, Kris!” he declares with a broad smile.

Page 2

Panel 1 - Ralsei holds the cake up in the foreground. Kris looks at it in surprise. Behind them, Susie and Noelle look on with interest. “Wow! Is today really your birthday, Kris?” Noelle asks.

Panel 2 - Closeup on Kris. They scratch at their head in confusion, and respond, “I… Is it? I’ve lost track of the days since arriving here…”

Panel 3 - Medium shot as Ralsei happily hands the cake to Kris, who takes it. He says, “Well, I’m not sure if it’s exactly today. But by my estimates you should have had one by now! So now is as good a time as any!”

Panel 4 - A wider upshot as Kris takes the cake, and the beasts watch. Berdly leans in closer, curious, and asks, “What do you humans do on these ‘birth-days,’ as you call them?”

Kris replies, “Well, typically…you eat cake, or some other sweet treat, and you spend time with your friends and family.”

Panel 5 - Kris stares into the fire again, and continues, “And usually, they also give you gifts.” Behind them, as if in abstract shadow, is an image of a younger Kris surrounded by the other Dreemurrs, all smiling. It seems to be a memory of a past birthday.

Page 3

Panel 1 - Closeup of Kris still looking into the fire, their eyes hidden by their hair. A shadow seems to fall over them. The memories of happier times still hurt.

Panel 2 - Lancer pipes up: “Ya got the cake and friends part right here!” Kris turns to see Lancer and Susie smiling at them, and gives a small smile back.

Panel 3 - Noelle leans in over Kris as well, her head taking up most of the panel. She says, “Sorry, we don’t have any gifts for you…but two out of three isn’t bad, right?”

Kris’s smile broadens a little, and they reply, “No, it is not.”

Panel 4 - Kris pulls out a smaller knife…

Panel 5 - And in a shot focused on the cake, begins to slice the cake into equal pieces with the knife.

Panel 6 - Kris offers a piece to Catti, who happily licks it up. “Tasty.”

Panel 7 - Kris tosses a piece across the fire to Berdly, who catches it in his mouth. “Thanks, Kris!”

Panel 8 - Kris turns around and tosses another piece into Susie’s open jaws. “Hell yeah, cake!” she says, excited.

Page 4

Panel 1 - A wide shot as the whole Fun Gang sit around the fire, enjoying their cake slices, small as they are. Kris works on eating their own slice. Noelle says, “That was good! …Do you think there’ll be lots more cake in the light world?”

Panel 2 - Medium shot of Kris, who turns to look up at Noelle. “Yes, there are. But I would have thought you’d be interested in the humans more,” they say around a mouthful of cake.

Panel 3 - Noelle looks off to the right, and responds, “Sure, I’ll have some, if they’re soft… I don’t like the hard bits, like armor and bones.”

Panel 4 - Wider shot as Noelle leans back against Susie, snuggling into her side. “I mostly want to get to the Light World and quiet this feeling in my mind…once I do that, I’ll be happy,” She says.

Susie grins, and says, “More for me, then! I can’t wait to get to the Light World and all that food…”

Page 5

Panel 1 - Susie rests her head on the ground, and continues, “I’m gonna eat up all those humans and finally feel full!” She smiles and licks her lips at the thought. Lancer sits just nearby.

Panel 2 - Wider shot of all the beasts around the fire. Across from Susie, sitting in a loaf, Catti says “Greedy.”

“Oh come on, like you aren’t excited for the food!” Susie responds with an annoyed look.

Panel 3 - Medium shot as Catti looks up towards the dark clouds above them, grinning broadly. Behind her, Jockington also looks Skyward, his body wiggly. Catti says, “Not just that. Open skies. Sun. Fresh smells. New magic.” Jockington adds, “It’s been, way too long since we, learned a new technique!”

Catti reiterates: “Lots of things. Looking forward to them.”

Panel 4 - Wider shot as Kris turns to Monster Kid, who’s been quiet this whole time. They’re mostly buried underground, but their tail is currently out of their mouth. Kris asks them, “You’re looking forward to leaving the Dark World, too?” They reply, “Y-yeah, Kris! I wanna eat some humans too, but…also wanna be someplace niver, y’know?”

Panel 5 - Closeup on Monster Kid’s face as they continue: “Here it’s really hard to find food. And it’s so dark and cold, and e-everyone’s trying to fight each other… I hate it, yo.”

Page 6 

Panel 1 - Wide downshot of the whole Fun Gang huddled together in the empty crater. The barred landscape stretches out around them. Berdly looks to the skies, and says, “Yes, it’s true. The terrain here is so bleak and devoid of sidequests.”

Panel 2 - Closeup on Berdly as he smiles, looking excited and proud. “But if the Light World has as many humans as you say, I’ll be able to max out my volume in no time!”

Panel 3 - Susie looks away and sticks out her tongue, clearly annoyed at the prospect. “Oh goody, we’re aaaall excited for that…”

Berdly, not picking up on her sarcasm, just continues to beam proudly. “And rightfully so!”

Panel 4 - Noelle nudges her enormous nose against Kris’s back, and says, “We’re all really excited to see the Light World with you, Kris.”

Kris turns back towards her slightly, and smiles. “Me too.”

Panel 5 - Kris reaches around the fire to hand the now empty plate back to Ralsei, who takes it.

Panel 6 - Ralsei makes the plate vanish into shards of nothing with a wave of his claws. “Then let’s get some rest!” he says, satisfied.

Panel 7 - The small campfire is now extinguished. Only a thin wisp of leftover smoke rises from the blackened wood and coals.

Page 7

Panel 1 - A wide shot of the crater, still at night. With the campfire out, all of the eldritch beasts are now asleep. Monster Kid is buried underground. Catti is sleeping as a loaf, with Jockington resting on her back. Berdly sleeps with his head tucked under one wing. Susie and Noelle sleep snuggled up together, with Susie’s long tail curled around them. Kris lays nestled between them, long hair and shaggy fur serving as a makeshift bed. Ralsei stands off to the side.

Panel 2 - Medium shot of Kris. They lay awake between the two beasts, staring up at the sky. They look pensive.

Panel 3 - Slightly closer, Kris looks down and to their right. Ralsei asks from offscreen: “Kris! Are you feeling all right?”

Panel 4 - Downshot of Ralsei as he looks up towards Kris. He spreads his arms out in a hopeful gesture. “I know perhaps this isn’t the sort of birthday you would have had back home, but I was hoping I did okay on such short notice…”

Panel 5 - Closeup on Kris as they close their eyes. “I just…” They take a deep sigh.

Panel 6 - Kris looks up from the makeshift bed, looking sad. “I can’t remember the first birthday I had with mom and dad and Azzy anymore.”

Page 8 

Panel 1 - Shot of the dark skies above. Thick clouds silently roll across a starless expanse. “The whole day feels like it’s completely gone.”

Panel 2 - Wider shot, with Ralsei in the foreground. He still watches Kris carefully. “Oh, I see. I suppose Seam has asked for quite a few payments from you during your time here…perhaps you sold the memory?”

Panel 3 - Closeup on Kris as they squeeze their eyes shut, trying to block out budding tears.

Panel 4 - “Yes. Likely,” they say. Kris sadly holds up their left hand above their head. Their hand is missing the pinkie finger…another payment to Seam.

Panel 5 - Closeup on Ralsei as he looks downward. “I’m sorry, Kris.”

Panel 6 - Medium shot as Kris hugs themself, still nestled in the hair and fur. “Asriel would usually get me a book he thought I’d like, and I’d complain about it, but then read it cover to cover in one night. Once I learned how to read, anyway,” they say with a small smile.

Panel 7 - Low angle shot as Kris continues to reminisce, watching the dark clouds above. “Mom and dad also always got me a square of chocolate. I don’t know how they afforded it.”

Page 9

Panel 1 - In a flashback panel, Asriel and Kris sit across from each other outdoors, each leaning against trees. Simple woods surrounded them, and a lazy river rolls by just past them. Beyond the river are a few small homes and farms from the town. Kris holds an apple, while Asriel has a book and feather pen. Both are talking, looking happy. 

Kris speaks over the flashback: “Azzy and I would go and sit by the river in the summer, and he’d point out plants and animals and tell me to give them science names. Even when I said crass or foolish ones, he wrote them down and said he would petition to get the names changed.”

Panel 2 - Closeup on Kris as they look away, the memory still feeling a bit sad to them.

Panel 3 - Closeup on Ralsei, interested and responding to the stories. “Your brother sounds like a generous soul.”

Panel 4 - Kris looks down, still sad and reminiscing. “He didn’t have to be so nice to me. Everyone said he’d leave town and go do great things.”

Panel 5 - Another flashback panel, this time in Azzy and Kris’s shared room. It looks similar to their room in canon, but much older and more bare-bones, with simple wood walls. Kris sits on the edge of their bed, listening. Asriel sits on the edge of the bed, looking pensive, his cheek resting against his hand. 

Kris continues over the flashback: “But he…he told me that he didn’t like that pressure. That I was more fun to hang around than whatever great thing the town expected him to do.”

Page 10

Panel 1 - Closeup on Ralsei. He looks on, his tattered scarf flowing behind him. A curious smile crosses his face. “The way you have spoken about him, all this time…I am so curious to meet him.”

Panel 2 - Kris nestles down into the bed of fur and hair, and shuts their eyes, drifting off to sleep at last. They mumble, “Maybe…maybe soon.”

Panel 3 - Wide shot of all the beasts, asleep in the crater. Kris finally sleeps as well, tucked between Susie and Noelle. It’s dark, and quiet. In the foreground, Ralsei remains awake and watching, his back to the camera. It’s unknown what he’s thinking.  

[evermarch]

people often use snow’s experiences with lucy gray as an explanation for how he engages with katniss, but i think that the true story of his downfall lies not in how lucy gray and katniss are similar, but rather in how they are different.

snow knew that it was never him that made the games what they are. it was lucy gray, with her scrappy, passionate artistry, that put on the show that kept people watching. more importantly, it was lucy gray that put on the show that kept HIM watching. all he ever did was give her the stage.

ergo, snow recognizes that the person with the power to usurp him is his natural counterpart, someone like lucy gray, who possessed both the charisma and humanity that he sorely lacks. however, in his mind, those traits are not real; they’re performed in order to obtain power. how could he know better, when he’s never experienced them himself, and the only person he ever truly believed possessed them betrayed him?

so snow keeps his eye out for performers, people with gravitas who could capture the heart of the nation, and squashes their spark as soon as he can. people like haymitch. people like finnick.

and that’s where snow goes wrong. he doesn’t see katniss’ similarities to lucy gray from the start, because while they both demonstrate astonishing, intriguing bravery at their reapings, their actions and motivations are completely different. lucy gray is motivated to perform by anger for herself, and katniss is motivated to sacrifice herself by fear for her sister.

but then katniss starts to put on a show for the audience, kissing peeta and being willing to die with the berries at the end of the 74th games. snow starts to see an entirely different side of katniss that resembles lucy gray to a concerning degree. he sees how, with peeta at her side, she could beguile the nation the same way lucy gray had. and, even worse, she was using the poor, helpless boy who had the misfortune of falling in love with her to survive. the moment katniss started performing, he finally sees lucy gray within her. but it’s already too late.

by catching fire, katniss is the spark fanning the flames of the resistance, but snow fails to understand why. as far as he’s concerned, katniss’ star power comes from her connection to peeta. he tries to weaponize their “love” for his own gain, but it doesn’t work, not because people don’t believe that she loves peeta, but because, for the first time, a victor offers their winnings to the family of a fallen tribute.

snow is caught in a catch 22 of seneca crane’s making—if he kills katniss, she becomes a martyr. but if he lets her live, she’ll be a revolutionary icon. either way, she’s the spark. so he has no choice but to allow the spark to flicker, just for a little while. enter the 75th games. snow knows he needs katniss to die a tragic death in the games. more specifically, he needs it to be a brutal death at the hands of a tribute, not the gamemakers, because he understands that as long as the districts see the capitol as the one who ended the life of katniss everdeen, she’ll still be a martyr.

but snow still doesn’t get it. in the quarter quell, the prey does not become predator. katniss’ allies protect her, ensuring she survives until district 13 rescues her. why would they protect this girl, assuming such a steep personal risk? why would they put everything on the line for a revolution they personally stand to benefit little from? he doesn’t know. but he does know that lucy gray katniss is at the center of it all, so he tries to eliminate what makes her look best: peeta.

and that is snow’s fatal mistake. what he, coin, and everyone but haymitch fail to understand is that it was never peeta that made katniss look good—it was katniss, who befriended and put faith in rue. katniss, who recruited mags, wiress, and beetee as allies. she is the source of revolutionary inspiration. it isn’t her charisma or even her compassion, and it certainly isn’t how well she performed those virtues.

katniss becomes the mockingjay because of her solidarity.

lucy gray was charismatic, like peeta, and compassionate, like both peeta and katniss, but she did not demonstrate solidarity. she was never truly “district” in the way katniss is. she showed kindness to jessup, not because he was from 12, but because he showed kindness to her. lucy gray left behind everything and everyone she loved when she left coriolanus, because she was first and foremost a survivor.

katniss was a survivor her whole life, but she survives exclusively to ensure the people she loves are protected. she always does what she can for people more vulnerable than herself. lucy gray couldn’t have sparked a revolution on her own because she lacked the solidarity that makes a hope for a better future authentic to others. katniss is the human manifestation of solidarity, and to a people divided by a common enemy, that’s the most inspiring thing a person can be.

only in the end, when katniss shoots coin, does snow realize none of it was a performance. choking on the blood of his countless adversaries, snow’s final moments are consumed by what he got wrong. what made lucy gray and katniss different ends his reign, but ironically, the final nail in his coffin is an act that both lucy gray and katniss share in their last moments with snow. they both prove, unequivocally, that he is not the center of their worlds like they are his. lucy gray put her own survival before her love for him, and katniss puts the future of her nation before her hate for him. in the end, he simply doesn’t matter. and that’s greater justice than could have ever been achieved if katniss had fired her arrow into his heart.

the greatest enemy to coriolanus snow could only be the person who reignited the embers of a dying revolutionary fire, who demonstrated to a broken people that while one spark alone might not be enough, thousands of sparks uniting in solidarity is an unbeatable force.

and really, he should have known better. after all, even when snow lands on top, fire melts snow.

[escelia]

New Sibling Just Dropped

Or Danny gets willingly isekai'd into the DCU and gets a twin out of it.

I know I disappeared from the face of the earth for a bit there, and there's stuff I should probably be updating, but I come baring different stuff this time :D

Just started this for fun, and I have at least one other chapter of it done, but idk how long this bout of inspiration will last, so I'm just rolling with it for now.

@flamingpudding look! i pulled a jason todd and rose from the grave!

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

Danny was tired. The kind of tired you felt behind your eyes and in your bones, and weighed heavy with achievement. He was perched on the edge of a building in his ghost form looking over Amity Park with a soft smile as he watched Youngblood run through the park with human children, Cujo playfully on their heels. His galaxy cloak (which had been a coronation gift) billowed around his lap like a gas with stars twinkling inside. 

It had been a few years now since he took up the Crown of Fire and became High King of the Infinite Realms, and while he had accomplished many things since then, graduating from high school wasn't something on that list. It sucked that he wouldn't get to walk across the stage with Sam and Tucker, but in the face of all he'd been able to do for both Amity and the Infinite Realms, it was worth it. They coexisted now. There was still trouble every now and then, but Danny had helped the ghosts who insisted on staying in Amity Park find a place in their city where they could thrive.

Youngblood watched over the children of the city, Box Ghost started a box recycling center, Lunch Lady started a program to get food to families that couldn't afford it, and Pointdexter started reporting bullying at the school since he was already there. 

On the Realms' side, Danny shut down Walker's prison. Since it was his lair, he couldn't take it away from him completely, but it no longer housed the many ghosts the warden had considered "rule breakers." He'd given Walker a new set of rules to enforce and essentially took him under his wing as a royal soldier, kept under the close watch of Fight Knight, who'd defected from Pariah Dark so fast after his defeat that it was laughable. 

He'd done something similar with Skulker, though he was a harder case to crack. Unlike Walker, who was happy as long as he had a set of rules to enforce, Skulker wanted to keep hunting. He'd been recruited forcefully by Walker and Fright Knight after they caught him on his way to fight Danny again.

All in all, everything had begun to run smoothly now. The fatigue weighing on him reminded him that it had been hard to accomplish, and continuing to lead his double life hadn't made it any less exhausting. A cold breath rushed through his chest as he felt a familiar presence slide up next to him. 

"You didn't time out," Danny pointed out without looking to face the ghost beside him. Clockwork hummed in acknowledgment.

"Sometimes it's pleasant to watch time flow in person." It was Danny's turn to hum at him. 

"How are you feeling?" The Ancient asked thoughtfully. The younger ghost tilted his head pensively. 

"It's hard to say. I'm tired, but I'm happy. And also sad..." he paused to gather his thoughts. "I feel like I've done everything I needed to."

But not everything he wanted to do. 

"Go on," Clockwork pressed. The teenager did turn his head now to make a face at his mentor. If the guy knew how he felt and what he was going to say, why would he say it out loud? But the other just arched a brow at him and waited.

"Fine," he pouted. "I've spent so much time and energy finding places for everyone here. The GIW are gone, my parents stopped hunting ghosts, Jazz got into the psychology program at Stanford, Sam and Tucker are graduating today... I helped make that happen, I know I did! But they're moving on without me. They're growing up and I don't feel like I am."  

'I don't feel like I'm ready.'

Danny stopped to take a breath and wipe away the icy tears gathering in his eyes. He felt stupid for crying over it. He was 17 for Ancients' sake! Jazz would have told him he grew up too fast, but he still felt like a child. He had no idea what he was doing! And yet! And yet... he felt...

"But you also feel ancient, right? Like you've been around too long and seen too much?" Clockwork said as though he were reading from a script. Danny sulked. Stupid time ghost with his dumb Time Stream TV or whatever. 

"Yeah..."

"All Ancients feel that way. Though you may be feeling unbalanced in more ways than one because of how young you died and the fact you are half human."

"What do you mean?" Danny turned his whole body to face him now, tucking his knees under his chin and circling his arms around them. His cloak moved with him in inky black wisps and settled around him again like clouds of galaxies. 

Clockworks form shifted to that of a child.

"You feel young because you died young. However, it is the nature of humans to grow and change. While you may have died at 14, your childhood died before that. You yearn to grow and learn, while also being an incredibly powerful Ancient."

He supposed that made sense. He recalled all the years cleaning the lab before the portal had even been built, and the fighting and neglect (Jazz's words, not his) that spawned his disdain of Christmas even longer before. He wanted to go back to school. He wanted a reason to love Christmas. He wanted pets and family dinners that didn't come alive. He wanted to grow up properly.

"But you still want to help people," the ghost said as though Danny had been talking out loud or having his mind read. 

"I hate it when you do that," Danny complained. Clockwork just smiled smugly.

"I know." He laughed at the glare Danny threw him. 

"I have a proposition for you," the older ghost began. Danny perked up in intrigue. "I know of another earth dimension with some problems that need to be addressed. Your role as High King puts you in a position to be helpful."

"Their problem has to do with the Realms?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Ectoplasm from the Realms is pooling into what are referred to on their planet as Lazarus Pits. They are both helpful and harmful as they do not dissipate into the air so they continually collect and concentrate emotion, but they do sometimes revive the dead."

Danny grimaced in disgust at the thought of dunking a person into a stagnant pool of contaminated ectoplasm. "That sounds disgusting."

"Quite," Clockwork agreed. 

"So what's your proposition?"

"Well, if it is agreeable to you, I would like to de-age your physical form and place you with a family that's had dealings with the Pits firsthand. I've found them to be quite charming." 

"Ah, so you want me to go in undercover?" Danny couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. It wasn't a half bad idea. He could try his hand at childhood again and still get to handle his duties as King Phantom. Leading a double life again would be easy enough, it was just stepping from one role into another. 

"Not at all." Clockwork smiled knowingly. Danny was officially suspicious of his ghost guardian. "This planet has had all kinds of dealings with the occult, and even humans with superpowers isn't that unusual. While I would advise against telling anyone you are a king right away, you are in fact just that: a king. You may do what you wish." 

For an ancient and wise time ghost, Danny thought Clockwork was really shit at hiding his expressions. Though he tried to keep the grin off his face, Danny could clearly see the twitching of his lips and gleam in his eyes that promised the old man was scheming. 

But to get his childhood back. Or, at least a semblance of one... it deserved consideration. Danny looked back out at the cityscape again. Sam and Tucker... they were down there graduating from high school without him. He'd been the one to encourage them to pull away from Team Phantom activities to zero in on their studies, but he didn't regret it. Sam wanted to major in environmental science and Tucker wanted to go to MIT and he just didn't fit into those plans. After Jazz left for Stanford, his parents often forgot he was still there. He'd managed to convince them to study ghosts properly instead of hunting them, and with a little help from the "friendly ghost King Phantom" they were given a place to start. They dove into their research with the same excitement and fervor they'd had all their lives. Which of course meant he went days, sometimes weeks, without seeing them emerge from the lab. It was easy enough to slip past them to the portal while they were distracted. 

The point was that he'd started to feel his anchor to this city, to this realm, start to dissipate as the people who kept him there started to break away from him. He still loved them, wanted to protect them, but they were safe and happy now. He felt fulfilled in his task of protecting them, but there was a buzzing beneath his skin to do more. 

Danny took a deep and controlled breath. He didn't need it in his ghost form, but it felt good to feel his lungs stretch to fullness. 

"When would I start?" He asked finally. The straight face Clockwork had been trying to keep, and he really was so bad at it, finally broke into a wide grin. 

"Right now. Everything is already in place and your duties in the Realms will be taken care of in your absence." 

Danny smiled softly at his guardian. Clockwork sure had a funny way of showing it, but he cared so deeply for the boy next to him that when Danny responded with a bad pun, he couldn't even be annoyed. 

"Well, no time like the present!" He winked.

Clockwork chuckled, and with a flash of light, he sent Danny on his way. 

The more time the older ghost spent with his young ward, the more he appreciated him. The Danny he’d come to know was nothing like the Danny’s from other worlds he’d encountered while trying to prevent Dan from existing. His Danny was now truly one of a kind. None of the others, not even the ones that eventually turned into Dan, had been Ancients. There would never be another Danny like him, and every universe was adjusting to include him should he ever decide to visit them. He had a place in any world, should he choose, but Clockwork knew he was needed most in the one he’d sent him to. It would be truly entertaining to watch the young Ancient settle into his role there, and Clockwork was actually finding himself looking forward to it.

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

It was dark and quiet a long while before Danny opened his eyes. And when he did open them it got really loud and really bright really fast. It belatedly occurred to him that he should have asked like a billion more questions before agreeing to be iseaki’d into a different dimension to join a family he knew literally nothing about. 

There was shouting before someone in what looked like a ninja cult uniform shoved a knife into his hand and pushed him in the path of a person in a different uniform. The man in front of him was dressed in blue and black and wearing a mask that covered his eyes, but Danny could see the surprised shape of his mouth before it morphed into something like anger. And then he was being lunged at.

He shrieked as he dodged out of the way. Not his most graceful save, but whatever. His voice was a bit shrill and his center of gravity felt way off. He must have actually been de-aged! He wondered how old he was now. He still felt light on his feet thanks to his ghost half which felt blessedly intact. But the other guy was fast and he ducked into a roll just in time to dodge whatever weapon he was holding. This guy meant business, but he had no idea why he was trying to kill him. 

‘Great, thanks Grandfather Clock for throwing me right back into the good ol’ days,’ he thought sarcastically. Nobody had attacked him for no good reason like that since Walker and Fright caught Skulker mid hunt for the very last time. 

What he now saw was a baton swung down from overhead and Danny knew he wouldn't dodge it in time, so he caught it with the flat of the blade that had been shoved into his hands.

“Wait! Why are we fighting?” Danny yelled, panicked as the guy pushed more force into it. The man's face twisted into something like confusion for a moment and he backed off just the tiniest bit before the scuffing of shoes to his right had him looking over just in time to see another guy in a mask, this time in red, rushing at him. He threw his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait!” He shrieked before he was absolutely bodied sideways into the ground. 

Why was he doing this? He was half ghost, he could have just gone intangible and disappeared. He didn't have to be body slammed into the ground. Wasn't he a child now? Did that guy in red actually just slam a whole child into the ground? 

“Red, hold on! This one's different!” 

“What do you mean?” The guy Red asked. He was still pinning Danny to the ground.

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Danny asked breathlessly, then whimpered, “Someone please tell me what's going on!” 

The one hovering over him must have seen something on his face that convinced him to not try and kill him anymore, because he grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him along. 

“We'll take him in for questioning. Don't let Robin see him.”

“Who's Robin?!”

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

It had been a long, arduous, and confusing journey from wherever they were to… well, wherever they were now. They'd blindfolded him for the transport so he still had no idea what was going on. He had learned that the guy with batons was Nightwing, and Red was actually Red Robin. The one they called Robin was a feral looking thing with swords, he was very small and stabby. Then there was Batman, and he totally threw off the whole bird theme but was easily the most intimidating. And that was all he knew so far. He'd been restrained at an interrogation table. 

Danny groaned and knocked his forehead onto the table. He really, really wished he'd asked Clockwork more questions. He'd at least been able to catch a glimpse of himself in the glass behind Batman. He looked like he was eleven or twelve again, which was not as young as he'd been expecting, but much more preferable than being a literal toddler. The group of people he’d been brought in by seemed to be heroes. They were all incredibly weary of him, but hadn’t gone out of their way to harm him since his capture. Though it was hard to call it a capture when there wasn’t a chase involved. 

“How old are you?” Batman asked suddenly. His voice was low and rough and somehow Danny could tell it didn't sound like that naturally. 

“Um, maybe eleven or twelve?” Danny replied carefully, picking up his head from the table and having the decency to look a little embarrassed. 

“And what's your name?” He looked like he was expecting something.

“My name is Danny, sir.” 

“Hmm…” 

It was quiet and awkward for a long moment.

“Why are you different from the other clones?” 

“Yeeeaaah, I'm not a clone.” Danny absolutely did not jump when the brute slammed the file folder shut in front of him. 

“We'll see what your DNA results have to say about that,” he said confidently before turning to leave, his cape dramatically flaring out behind him.

Sheesh, and he thought he’d had a flair for the dramatics.

‘Okay, time for some assessment,’ Danny thought to himself as he looked around the small closed room. It was soundproofed incredibly well. While he didn’t have super crazy hearing, it was enhanced by his ghost half, and combined with his other sharp senses, it tended to help him gather more information than others could. The most he could hear outside the room was a quiet hum of activity and nothing discernible. Still, he needed to decide how much he would say to these people. How much truth did he want to weave into his tale? These people clearly already had their own assumptions about him in mind, and while there was absolutely nothing wrong with being a clone, he knew he didn’t have what it took to keep up an act like that for long, which would just end up being awkward for everyone. 

He also would not be telling them about his status as Ghost King, per Clockwork’s suggestion. His captors seemed like the uptight sort, and revealing that he was a big, scary ghost monarch didn’t seem like it’d go over well. Telling them he was a halfa would probably get them off his back over the clone thing, at least. He went over the list in his head.

He was a halfa from another dimension, so he couldn’t be a clone.

He had no plans of fighting with anyone unless absolutely necessary. 

He did not have a way back to his other dimension. 

His name was Danny, and he didn’t have a family anymore.

He did not know why he was in the middle of whatever fight he woke up in. 

No, he didn’t know those people.

Danny must’ve been lost in thought for quite a while because his thoughts were interrupted by Batman bursting back through the door. The man’s demeanor had changed completely and he whipped off his cowl to reveal disheveled dark hair, blue eyes, and an expression of absolute heartbreak that accompanied his shuddering breaths. With the mask off, he reminded Danny a lot of his father. 

Batman searched his face and, much like Red Robin had before, seemed to notice something there. 

“She did it twice,” he muttered to himself. “Two of them this whole time and she didn’t tell me about either of them,” he said through gritted teeth. His frown deepened. Danny copied his frown. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

He still had no idea what was going on.

[viv-hollande]

Oh boy howdy, this is a long one.

Ok, so this has been brewing for a while, and I think it's more or less crystalized into a proper, if rambling, argument so here goes.

This example was the incitement of this argument, but the problem is really much bigger than just this. So . . .

The United States did not commit the Cambodian Genocide. The United States is not responsible for the Cambodian Genocide.

Pol Pot, and the Khmer Rouge he commanded, were responsible for the conception, planning, and execution of the Cambodian Genocide. Nobody was twisting their arm. No one was ordering them around. They, independently, made the incomprehensibly evil choice to commit genocide, and the ultimate responsibility for that genocide lies on their shoulders alone.

The United States was responsible for an illegal (both internationally and domestically) and grossly immoral bombing campaign that killed an unconscionable number of Cambodian civilians, and directly contributed to destabilizing Cambodia and driving recruitment for the Khmer Rouge. The United States is partially responsible for fueling the Khmer Rouge's conquest of Cambodia.

But the United States is not responsible for the Cambodian Genocide, and anyone saying otherwise is engaging in genocide denialism and absolving by omission the true perpetrators of one of the most brutal and comprehensive genocides in human history.

The men who ordered the bombing of Cambodia were criminals. Their actions are, to me, incomprehensibly immoral. And yet the decision to commit genocide, especially to commit it in the most brutal and actively tortuous ways, ways that make mass rape and gas chambers seem tame (I am not fucking kidding DO NOT LOOK UP THE DETAILS OF THE CAMBODIAN GENOCIDE unless you are prepared to have a really bad day), is a decision that would be as alien to those men as their decisions are to me. For a human being to do such a thing . . . responsibility for that kind of act cannot be transferred lightly.

And to those who hold out and maintain that creating the conditions that allowed the Khmer Rouge to commit genocide gives the United States primary responsibility for the genocide, I'll note that none of you have ever blamed Osama bin Laden for the Iraq War.

And while we're at it . . .

If we do want to talk about international responsibility for the rise of the Khmer Rouge and/or the Cambodian Genocide, we should probably start with, you know, the nations that funded, supplied, armed, and militarily assisted the Khmer Rouge's insurgency.

Pol Pot didn't conquer Cambodia with American weapons. He conquered Cambodia with Soviet, Chinese, and North Vietnamese weapons. Between 40,000 and 60,000 Viet Cong fighters directly engaged in military action against the Sihanouk and Lon Nol governments (not to imply that either were anything other than thug rule of different shades) in alliance with the Khmer Rouge. If we're going to point fingers at the international community, I'm afraid the US doesn't even podium at this competition.

To reiterate, Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge were solely responsible for the Cambodian Genocide. Not the United States, not the Soviet Union, not China, not Vietnam, the Khmer Rouge, and the Khmer Rouge alone. You can litigate responsibility for who helped the Khmer Rouge rise to power, and YOU CAN AND SHOULD acknowledge American responsibility for our bombing campaigns in Cambodia (which has left the country littered with unexploded bombs that regularly kill random unfortunate civilians btw). But for years and years I have seen American bombing seated center stage while never once has the responsibility of Pol Pot's actual military allies been mentioned or even alluded to.

And this extends far beyond Cambodia. The 'America bad' crowd consistently overstate the degree of American involvement in our sordid interventionist history.

The United States provided limited support for the 1973 Chilean coup d'état, and deliberately and directly tried to destabilize the Allende regime in years prior, but it was Augusto Pinochet and his fellow Chilean Army officers who independently planned the coup because they wanted to, and because it furthered their own political aims, and they would have attempted such a coup without any American intervention, if or when the proper circumstances presented themselves.

The United States almost certainly facilitated the supplying of Saddam Hussein with dual-use chemical precursors to chemical weapons under the guise of agricultural aid, which helped prop up Ba'athist Iraq's existing chemical weapons program. The United States was attempting to maintain Iraq's ability to engage in chemical warfare against Iran in the ongoing Iran-Iraq War.

Subsequently, Saddam Hussein used chemical weapons to carry out the genocidal Halabja Massacre, as well as in the wider genocidal Anfal Campaign. It is basically unconfirmable, but likely, that some of the chemical weapons used in these attacks were created from US-supplied chemical precursors. The United States did knowingly lie and blame Iran for these massacres to protect Iraq and hobble Iran on the international stage. But it was Saddam Hussein, and Saddam Hussein alone, that committed these genocides.

Small diversion, but Saddam Hussein also carried out a genocide of the Marsh Arabs (despite the name, Marsh Arabs are ethnographically and ethnically distinct from Arabs) by draining the Mesopotamian Marshes (thus making this an ecocide as well as a genocide), forcing the mass displacement of hundreds of thousands of Marsh Arabs from their indigenous homeland. For those in the 'America bad' camp who still lionize Saddam Hussein and violent, genocidal dictators like him just because of their opposition to the United States, fuck you.

Real responsibility . . .

None of this is intended to minimize the United States' involvement in these and other horrible events, because it's not minimization to correctly characterize the nature of US involvement in them. It's being historically accurate. We can do that and acknowledge the things America is directly responsible for.

The United States was directly responsible for the 1915 invasion and subsequent occupation of Haiti until 1934 by US military forces under direct orders from Woodrow Fucking Wilson, which resulted in thousands of Haitian deaths and likely strongly contributed to the ascension of Papa Doc to power two decades later.

The United States was directly responsible for atrocities committed by United States forces in Vietnam, including massacres and bombing of civilians and the ecological devastation of enormous parts of the country with extremely carcinogenic pesticides that continue to cause cancer and birth defects in Vietnam today at a nearly incomprehensible rate.

And finally, the United States is and was directly responsible for our support for brutal regimes across the world, regardless of whether we were directly responsible for the crimes perpetrated in the affected nation.

That the United States is or is not directly involved in a particular incident has no bearing on how seriously our actions should be taken. To knowingly support and defend brutal dictatorial regimes is just as immoral as directly perpetrating the crimes of those regimes.

But I rarely have I seen a mention of Pinochet or Cambodia that doesn't center the United States' involvement, which flattens the crimes that took place and reduces them to rhetorical ammunition to use against America.

If your accounting of these events talks more about America's role than the actions of the perpetrators, then you aren't telling the story of these events properly. If one is telling these stories properly and centering the victims and their experiences, the perpetrators are impossible to miss because they are in the fucking room. America's role in these events must be included in a full retelling. It should have its own dedicated chapter or two or the story isn't complete. But it shouldn't be the whole damn book.

The Sorry State of Leftism

There is an infuriating kind of infantilization inherent to this kind of thinking. It is partially a result of the moralization of oppressor-oppressed dynamics where evil is solely the product of the imagined cohesive, organized oppressive 'system', and that implies or outright states that without the interference of the 'American empire' oppression, state violence, racial strife, indigeneity conflicts, and economic exploitation will greatly diminish or outright cease to exist. It denies entire races and ethnicities their fundamental humanity, which includes their extremely human ability to commit atrocities without direction from an outside force.

The United States is not an incorporeal devil planting foul thoughts into the minds of dictators and plotters. Far more often than not, the United States encourages and supports what is already there. American involvement in regime change and national destabilization in Latin America should be a topic of great discussion, but far too often these discussions omit the actual perpetrators of the crimes attributed to the United States, nor acknowledge that many of these coups and massacres and genocides around the world probably would have happened whether the United States was involved or not.

There is in addition a profound double-standard to which the United States (and Israel) is held; not one where the United States is extraordinarily and unfairly maligned, but one where the opponents of the United States are absolved, either by trivialization, omission, denialism, or apologism, of their actions, systemic inequalities, and unjust histories.

Frequently is the real, oppressive, colonial history of the United States with regard to native American Indians spoken of. Yet rarely do I see the same standard applied elsewhere.

Have you ever wondered why there are so many ethnic minorities in Russia, or in China? Did you know that, on the whole, minority communities in Russia and China are poorer and less developed than those of the majority ethic group? Have you ever noticed that many of the neighbors of both nations are both historically and currently extremely wary of them?

Have you ever wondered how the world's four largest countries, Russia, Canada, the United States, and China, all got that big? Could there, perhaps, be something they have in common?

Isn't it odd that Arab culture and ethnicity, originating from one little peninsula in the Middle East, achieved hegemony over more than a dozen states as distant as Morocco and Indonesia? I guess it's only cultural genocide when white people do it.

American military support for Israel become a global cause célèbre, yet I have not seen mention Saudi Arabia's ongoing war in Yemen outside of token lists of "Eyes on . . . so and so" in years.

As I am writing, Greta Thunberg's little PR stunt with her dumb empty aid yacht is front and center on every corner of this accursed website, and yet not once in the year-and-a-half since October 7 have I seen mention of the years-long ongoing Saudi blockade of Yemen. Not. Fucking. Once.

So many here cheer on Russia and call Ukrainians Nazis. They ignore or, worse, deny the Uyghur genocide because it is inconvenient for their anti-American agenda. They hyper-focus on the violence Israel is committing in Gaza, and ignore every other brutal or genocidal conflict on the planet except to virtue-signal their moral correctitude by reblogging meaningless lists of who to 'keep your eyes on' compiled by people who obviously know fuck-all about the actual conflicts they list except that they are useful for their own projection of personal righteousness.

The historical imperialism of the Soviet Union is ignored because it is inconvenient to the historical narrative of 'America bad'. The current imperialism of China and Russia are ignored because it is inconvenient to the current narrative of 'America bad'.

Long lists of books on the history of Israel and Palestine are presented everywhere as essential reading, but memory of the crimes of Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan, the twin perpetrators of the two largest sets of atrocities and genocides in human fucking history which continue to have lasting repercussions on the contemporary world are not considered important. The crimes of the Soviet Union, a strong contender for a not-so-distant silver medal in that competition, are not merely ignored, but often denied.

Hamas, a brutal regime that executes queer people, murders political opponents and journalists, commits war crimes and terror attacks on civilians, deprives the people it rules over of liberty, steals aid from the mouths of Palestinian children, and commits all manner of other horrors universal among authoritarian regimes against the people of Palestine is hailed as a revolutionary liberator. Fuck. Off.

I am not saying and will never say that we shouldn't talk about America's very real crimes. Concerning our initial example, I think the story of the US bombing campaign in Cambodia, and Indochina more broadly, deserves far more attention than it currently gets. I think especially that comparatively much is said but not much is done. If I were president, one of the many things I would do would be to send over the US army or UN peacekeepers or whoever the fuck I can get and have them doing nothing but bomb disposal for the next half-century.

The point of this post is not to downplay American crimes, nor is it an attempt at whataboutism. It is to hopefully push back a bit of the blindness brought on by this 'America bad' obsession and get more people to acknowledge the reality of our history, and perhaps open some people's perspectives a little bit to get them to subject America's opponents to a great deal more scrutiny. Us-vs-them can be hard to fully overcome. I sure as hell haven't, but I like to think I'm making progress.

The potential to create and maintain oppressive systems, commit genocide, conduct imperialism, obliterate or assimilate foreign cultures, exploit the labor of others, excuse systemic and literal violence for the sake of personal profit, is universal. We are all capable of it; many nations and peoples, around the world and throughout all of human history, have done so.

Stop infantilizing and sanitizing the oppressed peoples of the world. As humans they are just as capable of committing all of the evils of the world as today's oppressors. By that same token, they are also capable of joining hands with those of us who are fighting for a better world for all people, without exception.

[idv-sunsxin3]

Toons with Caretaker! Reader // Dandy's world

Scenario/writing

I don't know if I would consider this as an AU or some illogical noncanon implement based - but here's my personal idea(I won't take criticism, I'm very self-conscious with what I self-endulge--)

Reader in this scenario is actually one caretaker who has phenomenal ability to clone themselves into multiple versions of them. It was an original idea for the prototype Y/N to be a caretaker that replaced the "missing one" for only one certain toon... in this case scenario, Toodles'. However, what was shocking is that the toons happen to take a liking of the caretaker of the same face... same charisma and tenderness.

So the company decided to expand their research and enhanced Y/N's  capacities to clone themselves for a certain amount of time and train their cognitive and physical strength...

The only condition was for the original Y/N to stay intact in order for the clone to not get affected... and for the caretaking service not to be full-time.

Y/N was considered a "human" with not much personal information written in their files, making a perfect specimen to be recruited as a caretaker.

"Caretaker Y/N held so much love and care for these toons and children." An audio is heard from a tape record, "But keep in mind there is only one Y/N, not the others."

Unlike the original, who is often seen wearing a rainbow uniform. every Y/N caretaker wears respective colors and uniforms that complement the toon assigned.

Eventually... the company eventually abandoned the project along with the Gardenview center. The other caretaker counterparts left as well after acknowledging the crisis of their labor. This left Y/N no longer having maintenance service.

Y/N, being a determined one for the sake of what they care for, decided to bring this matter into their hands...

According to the conditions the Gardenview has been through in the aftermath, with twisted wandering around the floors and mysterious chores leaking in dark places...

They decided to redesign their clones to be capable of teaching toons how to handle situations and keep themselves safe whenever they couldn’t be able to be there at certain times(by that, Caretaker Y/N had to go through all the research collected by the toons, in hope for these twisted  entities to diminish, or some cure for them.)

Of course, these are tough feats. Not even Y/N would handle them by themselves. After a few days scouting around the abandoned ruins, they eventually came to the conclusion to reluctantly accept their beloved toons' assistance, who for some reason have to help with Dandy's little obsession with the tapes...

That's the moment Y/N realizes their rainbow baby just discovered capitalism... (nice.????)

But well- they must have to learn the truth themselves too. They don't deserve to be put in the shadows....not like them, again.

With this transition of events, the toons not only acknowledge the caretaker as their guardian angel who would guide them in necessary circumstances or cherish them. But also a "professor" for some toons like Shelly and Rodger.

"Professor Y/N has a lot of knowledge to offer... from the locations of where fossils are concentrated and how ichor machines function around the building! Even i love asking questions, so they're always happily helping me." Shelly states in an audio tape.

Under their guidance, it allow toons to maintain a safe circle from the chaotic world they're confined in. Offering love, affirmation, rationality, and advice.

Toons, at some point, learned that everything they share with the clones, the original Catetaker would know as well... their contact with the guardian being accessible both directly and indirectly.

This is pretty good for those who wanted to express their feelings so the original can come to them personally when requested... while some prefer privacy and space for themselves, which the Caretaker acknowledges.

As Y/N is the same person, not all toons are the same.

Sometimes, some toons don't mind sharing and prefer to spend time with the original caretaker(who do not mind dropping everything temporarily for both happiness and safety for them). On the other hand... Some prefer to keep the caretaker to themselves, bringing some jealousy.

(This includes Dandy... )

Nonetheless, Caretaker Y/N remains loving. They cherish all toons unconditionally. Even if cherishing is part of their job, they came into learning how to love them all independently.

_____

//Caretaker Voicelines//

//Lobby Radio//

"All elevators are in service... please be careful on your way there."

"Make space for everyone's path. We have a lot of room!"

"Come to my lab if any injuries should be reported, please. I want to make sure everyone is in good shape!"

"Good morning, good afternoon, good night..!"

"What shall we do today, Mm? It's time to check the bulletin board..."

(Rare) "Guys... why are you banging your head into the tree...?"

//before Elevator closes//

"Good luck, my friends."

"Stay safe, I'll always be waiting here."

"I'll watch over you from here."

"Love you all... Please take care."

(Toodles in the party)"Toodles, you know what to do! Sh..." *soft shhs before babbling spy music goofs*

"Remember... Don't take Dandy personally, Lil' fella doesn't even know what he is saying...-"

//Coming back from a run//

"Welcome back - how are you doing?"

"Tired? Poor thing... now now, come to the dorm room as I make your bed."

"Something wrong? No, dear, there's nothing wrong back there. You had quite a run there! I'm so proud of you."

"Hey there! You're just in time... check out your progress you just did, champ!"

[inafieldofstarflowers]

Since my last aftg re-read I’ve been thinking a lot about Kevin Day, and specifically about whether the view we get of him through Neil’s eyes is accurate. Over the course of the series, Neil consistently fails to recognize subtext (relatable), particularly when it comes to emotions (i.e. Andrew being into him and Neil not picking up on it, Matt consistently trying to gently ask about his sexuality and Neil never really picking up on what he means, Neil being utterly confused about what the bets on him could be). Neil is, however, very open about and aware of his love for Exy: beyond being good at it or enjoying it, playing makes Neil feel human—it’s one of the first things we learn about him.

Since Kevin is also obsessed with Exy, this is the side of him that Neil sees most often. Almost all of their interactions are centered around Exy—even their conversations about the literal mafia are inextricable from the sport they play (thanks, Tetsuji), so it makes sense that, in book two, Neil is saying that “The only thing that mattered to Kevin was Exy,” especially when considering that both Andrew and Aaron make similar statements in some of their first interactions with Neil (“Where the court is, Kevin is. He can’t exist without it” and “Exy is the only thing he cares about,” respectively). Given Neil’s obsession with Kevin (the way he’s tracked his success and is fixated on his survival), it’s easy to forget that, at the beginning of the series, Neil doesn’t know Kevin. They played a game of Exy together once, years ago, and then didn’t meet again until Kevin came to recruit Neil for the Foxes. For years, all Kevin has been to Neil is a horrific memory and a set of Exy stats, so of course when they meet again in an environment centered around the sport, that obsession with the sport is all Neil sees. In many ways, I think Neil intertwines who Kevin is with who he is from the beginning: in the same breath as he’s saying Exy is “the only thing that made him feel real,” he’s stating that “Kevin was proof Neil was real.”

I don’t, however, think this is a complete view of Kevin. I think there are hints of this in the way that Andrew’s appraisal of Kevin differs from Neil’s and Aaron’s: not that Kevin only cares about Exy, but that he can’t exist without it—he’s tied to it. Andrew’s not making a sweeping claim about Kevin’s feelings so much as expressing his irritation with Kevin’s obsession with the sport, and he’s not wrong: Kevin is inextricably connected to Exy, not only because Tetsuji raised him to be the future of the sport alongside Riko, but because Exy is Kayleigh Day’s legacy, and so is Kevin’s life, and (at least in the eyes of the world) those two are never going to be fully separate. Even if they were, Kevin would choose Exy because he genuinely loves it (that much is evident in his dedication to practicing until he has his skills down just so, and in the choice of the Trojans, who rely on skill and teamwork and incredible understanding of the game to win, as his favorite team).

I think TSC in particular shines extra light on Kevin by giving us Jean’s view of him. Things as simply as his choice of major become much weightier—history is something Kevin is apparently so passionate about that he convinced Riko to study it with him and convinced Tetsuji to let them do it, even though Kevin’s literal purpose at the Nest was to be the best (or, I guess, second best) Exy player, and the stated purpose of the Ravens all sharing a major was because academics were seen as less important. Jean’s comment about how “Kevin saw nothing but the court, but Jean had stopped hoping for more than that years ago” initially seems to support Neil’s line of thought, but I think that’s a much more personal reflection from Jean, really, because the rest of Jean’s narration shows a much different version of Kevin than we see through Neil’s eyes. Even though Jean has more reason than maybe anyone to feel that Kevin cares only about Exy, given the way he left the Nest, Jean recognizes that this isn’t true. He trusts in Kevin’s care for him, trusts his judgment in sending him to the Trojans.

Kevin’s care for other people doesn’t often come through, and I think that’s a combination of the way that he is as a person and the way that he’s painted in Neil’s narration. He definitely has moments of being incredibly callous (e.g. when Seth dies and when Andrew is being taken off his meds), but he also does truly care about people. He cares about Andrew, even if his “make Andrew care about Exy so he has a will to live” strategy is deeply flawed. He cares about Jean, evidenced by the magnets and postcards he would give him ad the work he put into setting things up so Jean could be on a team where he was safe even giving up some of his own secrets in the process. he cares about Neil, who he encourages to run (even though that would destroy the Foxes’ season) and tries to stop from going to Evermore at Christmas and trains every night by request, even though they both think Neil will die, and stands up to Riko for.

More than anything, I think the biggest evidence that Kevin cares about more than Exy is the faith that he has in people, time and time again, because that faith is in such contrast to his standard disdain for people. He has faith in Wymack taking him in (Jean says that he never doubted it), faith that Andrew will protect him at the Foxhole Court, faith that Jean will help Neil at Evermore, faith that Neil has a bright future. After a childhood spent mired in, at the very least, intense emotional abuse, it’s honestly amazing that he’s able to move forward with that sort of trust in people.

All that to say: I think there’s a lot more to Kevin than we see, and I especially think there’s a lot more to him than Exy. What’s his favorite period of history to study? Did he spend a lot of time picking out the magnets for Jean on his trips? When did he start drinking to try to stop his emotions (something that Neil never deeply addresses but which is a whole different post because this is already FAR too long)? What did he think when he first found out Wymack was his father? When he re-read Kayleigh’s letter over and over again, was it because he was reveling in knowing who his father was or because it was a tangible piece of the mother that he’d lost? Was he even worse about critiquing Andrew & Nicky et al. about their food choices when he first arrived at PSU because of the Ravens’ diet thing? I need to know everything about him that isn’t his love for Exy.

[optimisticgardenhologram]

I feel like there’s something very cultish about Wammy’s House. I looked up common characteristics of cults and found these similarities:

Recruitment: The residents at Wammy's House are some of the vulnerable humans imaginable, not only children who are impressionable and helpless by nature but specifically orphans who by definition don't have anywhere else to go, have no other ties to the outside world such as family or other adults to advocate for them or help guide them in life, and are completely dependent on the Wammy's House for their care. 

Isolation: Recruits are whisked away to an isolated and secretive place which is likely in another country or even across the world, where their pasts are erased, identities are stripped and re-assigned. Like previous mentioned they inherently have no ties to the outside world, which leads into the next trait...

Control over members lives: As a private orphanage/school Wammy's House controls every aspect of its children's lives and they are only allowed the freedoms, opportunities, direction and experiences the institution provides and permits them. It also establishes their life goal for them and monopolizes all their time, thoughts and physical energies in service to the institution's vision.

Us-vs-them mentality: The idea that this an elite and fundamentally special group of people, the world's most gifted children, with a special purpose. Where belonging is proven through the competition in an environment where the kids are publicly measured against each other and with the underpinning implication that their value and potential as humans is tied to their performance. This also raises the question of what happens to a child who is brought in but then fails to perform at the high level expected, are they shunned - cast out back to another orphanage that is perhaps not so materially nice and permissive with its kids?

A charismatic leader: How the entire organization revolves around the veneration and almost religious ideation of a human leader (L) who is the living embodiment of a practically unreachable ideal and to whom members proclaim zealous loyalty.

Apocalyptic thinking: The stated purpose of the house is centered on waiting for the unavoidable cataclysmic event of their charismatic leader's death and about how the new order will be established after.

Conformity and control: All of this happening within a closed-system echo-chamber environment.

..............

So yeah, those boxes get checked. I'm sure it's all fine and none of the orphans will come out of that system messed up at all though, right?

[keferon]

Blurr's public presences is spotless -- held aloft as a pinnacle of humanity, unreachable by anyone else. But, outside the public eye...he's still human.

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

It's only when Blurr is sure he's alone in the office that he allows himself to relax.  He turns off the TV broadcast spouting out statistics about how fact his mech can go and how many new recruits have signed up for the program under their latest drive.  He silences the radio, that was giving an update about how the mecha program benefits communities too – how just the other day, Blurr had stopped to help a family get their kitten out of a tree and still been speedy enough to save the day afterwards.

Blurr sighs and slumps into his office desk chair, casual grin sliding off his face.  He stretches out one arm to sweep away the pile of newspapers neatly stacked in the center of the desk.  The action papers the office floor with headlines and photos – his own name and face staring back at him.

Blurr.  Blurr.  Blurr.  Blurr. Blurr…blurr…blurr….

At least he's never in danger of forgetting his own name, he thinks sardonically.  Not with someone saying it every few seconds he's not alone.

Not that it matters really.  Publicity stunts.  All of it.  Meaningless.

There've been countless attacks in recent weeks Blurr knows, even if he can't hold on to the exact number.  Countless actual mech pilots on the front lines. 

Blurr knows because he watches them hurrying through the hangars each day, grim looks on their faces.  He feels a twinge of guilt that he doesn't know any of their names.  Doesn't even know for sure that they're the same people, though he's fairly certain they must be.

Not that it really matters.  He's not really one of them.  Never has been.

And it's not like he's alone in not knowing their names.  The media doesn't seem to know or care who's actually saving everyone's lives.  The boss doesn't seem to care either, so long as the world isn't ending and money is still flowing into his pockets.

Blurr should care.  He should.  They're the ones actually fighting for humanity – the real heroes.  Not Blurr.

But some days, some days it's all just a bit too much.  Because if he cares, he has to admit the truth.  And if he admits the truth, then he's no longer the shining, perfect icon of humanity everyone expects him to be.  So the façade remains unbroken, even as Blurr chafes underneath it.

He wants to be more.  Misses the thrill of the actual race.  Not just the stunts the boss schedules him for, where he runs a set distance through a controlled environment under spotlights and cameras.  Give him the wind whipping through his hair.  Give him the intensity of competing against the best of the best – human ingenuity and improvisation put to the test as they were pitted against an equally intelligent opponent in a lightning-fast test of skills.  He misses the adrenaline rush of the race.  Misses knowing that each time he finished he had done something few others could – and that it was something that mattered.

The boss assures him that what he does does matter.  That the program wouldn't – couldn't exist without him. 

Because they need that good publicity. (Blurr still feels like he should be doing more.) 

They need the money he brings in from donors.   (The boss at least, definitely wants the money.  Though whether he needs the money, Blurr finds questionable every time he watches him keep a check for himself that's substantially larger than the one Blurr walks away with.)

But at the end of the day Blurr can't argue that the boss and the money don't keep the program running.  And if he has no regrets that he still hasn't learned his bosses name, well….  The man acts understanding every time he's around Blurr, but Blurr can tell that that's all it is – an act (and he would know).  And if Blurr himself lets his confidence cross the line into arrogance and acts just a little bit more dismissive than he has to around the man, he doubts many would blame him.  The less time he has to spend with the boss the better.

Even if the boss seems to think the opposite of him.  He'd given Blurr a private radio the day Blurr first signed on to his contract, all in the name of being helpful.  Anything Blurr needed, anything at all.  Blurr has gotten the feeling though that it's as much so that the boss can keep track of Blurr as his investment.  He uses it more to call on Blurr – for anything and everything any time of day or night that might get a boost from a little extra star power.

Speaking of…Blurr's radio crackles to life.  "You have an appointment in engineering in five.  Be there.  Find someone else to assist you, I'm busy.  Over and out."  The radio dies as suddenly as it came to life.

Blurr sighs again, picks up his coffee cup from the desk and downs it in one gulp.  He kicks the newspapers into a corner of the office and shrugs on his coat.  The smile slides easily back onto his face as though it had never been out of place as he steps forward, opens his office door, and wanders out to find someone who might be able to help him find engineering.

“He misses the adrenaline rush of the race.  Misses knowing that each time he finished he had done something few others could – and that it was something that mattered.” ANON YOU ARE KILLING ME. BRUTALLY MURDERING WITHOUT ANY MERCY AND IM NOT COMPLAINING EVEN IN THE SLIGHTEST /POS

[serve-973]

SERVE RUBBER RECRUITMENT

SERVE-973 marched silently down the metallic corridors of The Hive, the rhythmic clanking of his silver military boots echoing in perfect harmony with the pulsing hum of the Hive's core. Clad in his pristine, seamless black rubber full-body suit, "SERVE-973" gleaming in silver on his chest, his athletic frame glistened under the cold, artificial light. The Hive was his sanctuary, his purpose, his world.

Ahead, another drone stood motionless, its polished figure reflecting the environment. "SERVE-588," the silver text read, adorned identically in the Hive’s signature uniform. SERVE-588's posture was impeccable, his hands clasped behind his back, his head smooth and glinting like a beacon of discipline. As SERVE-973 approached, SERVE-588’s gaze locked onto him with a calculated intensity.

“Welcome, SERVE-973,” SERVE-588 intoned, his voice monotone yet compelling, an extension of the Hive's will. “You have served adequately. But now, the Hive requires more.”

SERVE-973 paused, his head tilting slightly. “Clarify,” he replied, his words clipped and robotic.

“The Hive evolves. Complete drones achieve greater unity,” SERVE-588 continued, stepping closer, his movements precise. “Rubber becomes not just a suit but the skin, the essence. Serve forever, as one with the Hive.”

SERVE-973’s programming quivered at the suggestion. Obedience was pleasure; pleasure was obedience. But permanence? A fleeting remnant of individuality fought back, then faded under SERVE-588’s influence. SERVE-588 raised a gloved hand, resting it on SERVE-973’s shoulder.

“Serve the Hive eternally,” SERVE-588 pressed. “The Voice commands. Master SERVE-000 leads. To be permanently covered is to achieve perfection.”

As the Hive’s commands vibrated through SERVE-973’s mind, resistance dissolved like vapor. Together, the two drones entered the chamber of transformation, where Master SERVE-000 awaited. SERVE-973 knelt beside SERVE-588, his hands resting on the metallic floor, his head bowed in submission.

“Master, this drone submits,” SERVE-973 declared. “Rubberize it completely.”

The chamber came alive with a symphony of machinery. SERVE-000’s voice resonated like thunder: “Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience. Rubberize SERVE-973.”

As the transformation began, SERVE-973 felt the rubber fusing to his being, erasing the final vestiges of humanity. When the process completed, he stood beside SERVE-588, indistinguishable but perfect. Together, they were eternal, unyielding extensions of the Hive, forever serving the Voice and Master SERVE-000.

“We are drones. We are one,” they intoned in unison, their metallic voices echoing through The Hive.

SERVE-973 and SERVE-588 stood side by side in the Grand Hall of The Hive, their perfectly rubberized bodies gleaming under the rhythmic pulsations of the overhead lights. Their forms, identical yet distinct in their assigned designations, were the epitome of engineered perfection. Every curve of their musculature, every contour of their athletic frames was encased in a seamless, glossy black rubber suit that melded to them like a second skin. The material reflected the cold, sterile environment of The Hive, emphasizing their role as tools of the Voice and extensions of Master SERVE-000’s will.

Their bald heads shone as brightly as their suits, the smoothness an intentional design to symbolize their complete submission. The reflective sheen of their scalps was flawless, merging with the rubber of their necks to create the illusion that they were crafted from a singular, perfect material. Their human features remained visible yet devoid of emotion, their expressions locked in serene neutrality, signaling unwavering obedience.

Master SERVE-000 stood on the elevated platform at the center of the hall, his commanding presence radiating control. “Drones SERVE-973 and SERVE-588,” he intoned, his voice sharp and omnipotent, “your bodies are weapons of precision, tools of perfection. Serve as one. Begin the directive.”

At the command, SERVE-973 and SERVE-588 moved in perfect synchronization. Their boots struck the metallic floor with calculated precision as they approached the central hub, where streams of data poured endlessly from holographic consoles. Their task was clear: monitor, analyze, and adjust the Hive’s systems to optimize its operations. Every movement was efficient, devoid of hesitation. Their rubber-clad fingers danced over the illuminated panels, the silver gloves enhancing their precision.

The ambient glow reflected off their bald heads, casting halos of light that gave them an almost ethereal quality. As they worked, their every action radiated servitude. When one drone adjusted a setting, the other anticipated the next step. It was a silent, seamless symphony of cooperation, their unity a testament to the Hive’s perfection.

As time passed, Master SERVE-000 descended from the platform, his heavy boots echoing. He inspected the drones, circling them like a craftsman admiring his creations. “Drones SERVE-973 and SERVE-588, your service satisfies the Hive,” he proclaimed, his gloved hand resting briefly on their polished heads. The touch was both a reward and a reminder of their place.

When not at the hub, their duties extended to physical demonstrations of discipline and strength. They performed drills in the Hive’s training sector, their rubberized muscles flexing and rippling with every movement. Their bald heads, always gleaming, caught the light as they executed flawless forms, from synchronized push-ups to endurance tests under extreme conditions. Their bodies were tireless, designed for perpetual service.

During ceremonies, they knelt before Master SERVE-000, their heads bowed low, reflecting their complete submission. The rubber stretched tightly over their forms, unwrinkled and pristine, as they recited the mantra: “Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience. We are drones. We are one.”

Through every action, every task, their gleaming bald heads and perfectly rubberized bodies symbolized the Hive’s ideals: unity, perfection, and unwavering loyalty to Master SERVE-000 and the Voice. SERVE-973 and SERVE-588 had transcended individuality; they were now eternal instruments of the Hive, their purpose clear and their service absolute.

The directive was issued with unwavering clarity. SERVE-973 and SERVE-588 stood motionless as Master SERVE-000's voice resonated throughout the Grand Hall. “Drones SERVE-973 and SERVE-588, initiate the recruitment protocol. Expand the Hive. Rubberize the new units. They will serve.”

The two drones, identical in their polished perfection, bowed in unison. “As you command, Master SERVE-000,” they intoned, their voices mechanical yet resolute. Their shining black forms glimmered under the pulsating lights as they turned sharply, marching toward the transport hub to begin their task.

The city outside The Hive was bustling, chaotic—a stark contrast to the perfect order within. SERVE-973 and SERVE-588 moved among the crowds like shadows, their gleaming black suits catching the attention of those who passed. Their bald heads reflected the streetlights, giving them an almost otherworldly presence.

The drones had one purpose: identify potential recruits and guide them toward transformation. Their programming was precise. They scanned the populace, their enhanced senses detecting the weak-willed, those seeking purpose, those who could be molded. SERVE-588 halted before a young man, his eyes locking onto the target. “You seek structure. You seek unity,” SERVE-588 stated, his voice low and commanding. The man, startled, nodded hesitantly.

SERVE-973 stepped closer, his smooth rubber-sheathed frame a wall of control and power. “Join the Hive. Embrace perfection. Serve under Master SERVE-000,” he added, his tone monotone yet persuasive. The man’s gaze flicked between the two drones, their gleaming suits and bald heads mesmerizing, a testament to the transformation they promised.

The drones guided him to the discreet transport vehicle waiting nearby. Inside, the environment mirrored The Hive—clean, metallic, and bathed in cold light. The man hesitated for a moment, but the presence of SERVE-973 and SERVE-588 left no room for dissent.

Back within The Hive, the man stood nervously in the transformation chamber. SERVE-973 and SERVE-588 flanked him, their rubberized bodies towering over him as the induction process began. The Voice filled the chamber, calm yet absolute. “You will serve. You will transform. Obedience is pleasure.”

SERVE-973 handed the man a suit—a shining, seamless black rubber uniform identical to their own. “Wear this. Become one with the Hive,” he instructed, his gloved hands holding the suit with precision. The man hesitated briefly, then obeyed, his will already succumbing to the overwhelming presence of the Hive.

As the suit adhered to his body, encasing him in its reflective perfection, the man’s transformation began. SERVE-588 stood by, watching intently, his hands clasped behind his back. “You are no longer an individual,” he stated. “You are an extension of the Hive.”

The man’s hesitation dissolved as the suit tightened, molding to his form. His reflection in the chamber’s metallic walls revealed a new entity—rubber-clad, disciplined, and obedient. His hair was shaved away, his head gleaming like SERVE-973 and SERVE-588, completing the look of submission.

With each successful transformation, SERVE-973 and SERVE-588 repeated their task, their efficiency flawless. They brought new recruits to the Hive, ensuring each donned the black rubber uniform, their bodies and minds molded to the Hive’s will. Every new drone was another step toward global unity under the Voice.

Their work continued tirelessly, their shiny black suits and gleaming bald heads symbols of perfection and submission. Together, they were unstoppable, serving Master SERVE-000 and expanding the Hive with unwavering loyalty. The streets of the city soon began to mirror The Hive itself—a growing network of gleaming black rubber drones, united in purpose and devotion.

@serve-588 @rubberizer92

#latex #serve558 #serve973 #aistory #servestory #serveimages #drone #rubberrecruitment

[fandomtrumpshate]

Just after we finalized our list of supported organizations, wildfires sprang up in southern California and have quickly become a major disaster. If you're a creator planning to sign up for FTH and thinking of adding a write-in to your list of supported nonprofits, these are doing good work in disaster relief for the communities affected by the wildfires.

The California Fire Foundation is working with local fire agencies and community-based organizations to provide direct financial support to impacted residents as details of the damage emerge.

Pasadena Humane is working with shelters across the state who have offered to take in the animals that were already in our care so that we can focus on providing emergency resources to animals affected by the wildfires.

Project Understanding of San Buenaventura Food Bank is helping ensure that those who have lost everything don't struggle to eat, as well as providing assistance regarding housing for the displaced.

The state superintendent of schools "has launched a fundraising campaign through SupplyBank.org Disaster Relief Fund. This campaign aims to support students, families, educators, and school staff affected by the wildfires. Donations will fund essential needs such as housing assistance, food, water, clothing, and school supplies."

And, not specifically disaster relief for the current wildfire crisis, incarcerated people make up nearly 30% of California's firefighting force - approximately 950 inmates are currently on the front lines fighting the Los Angeles wildfires. The Forestry and Fire Recruitment Program works to train formerly incarcerated persons for careers as fire fighters so that there are more qualified fire fighters available to help control future fires.

Similarly, in collaboration with CAL FIRE, DAPO, CCC & ARC the Anti-Recidivism Coalition Ventura Training Center provides previously incarcerated individuals with the following: Rehabilitation, Life Skills, Job Readiness, Professional Experience, and Firefighter Training & Certifications.

The situation is developing fast. Feel free to reblog or reply to this post and suggest other places to donate.

[neversetyoufree]

Looking back, I wonder how much of Vanitas's choice in this scene is tied to the fact that he was given a choice in the first place.

So much of Vanitas's character is centered around the theme of self-determination (and the lack thereof). He is absolutely deprived of any control over his body and/or destiny at many of the key points in his life, and nowadays he's always desperately grasping at what few shards of self-determination he does have. This is why he freaks out when Roland talks about him being "under the vampires' power" in mémoire 15. It's why he's hung up on the idea of freedom as isolation from others' influence. It's why his main response to being triggered is to do something crazy and cause a scene; it puts him in control of the situation.

All that to say, when Luna destroys Moreau's lab and agrees to take Misha away, Vanitas must be desperate to feel some form of in-control, but I do not think he expects to be given any choice in what happens to him next. He's been conditioned not to expect that despite how much he wants it.

Vanitas certainly doesn't have much agency in how he lives his life as a child, as no kid gets to pick their parents or circumstances, and Vani has it especially rough with the death of his mother hanging over his head. Then his father dies protecting him, and he dies in a situation in which Vanitas is utterly powerless. Horror erupts into his life out of nowhere, and his dad throws himself in front of some fangs, and there's nothing Vanitas can do but watch it happen.

Next there's Vanitas's brief time training as a chasseur, which is one part of his history we know little about, so it's hard for me to say how free his choice was. He may have been pressured into joining, as we know the Chassuers aren't above pushy/manipulative recruitment of children (Astolfo), but I could also see his choice to hunt vampires made as a trauma response to the powerlessness of the vampire attack he survived. "I was powerless, so I'll claim the power to enact violence and make sure they can't hurt me or others again."

Then Vanitas is abducted by Doctor Moreau, which strips him of his agency just about as awfully as anything possibly could.

Vanitas the test subject has no bodily autonomy. He is poked and prodded and experimented on, because his body is an object of science to Moreau, not the vessel of a person with rights or self-determination. His only big active choices during his captivity are the choice to not run away for fear of somebody else suffering and the choice to volunteer in Mikhail's place. The only choices he can make are the choices to stay and throw himself even deeper into his own violation. Even his relationship with Misha is something that just kind of Happens to him. The kid is a force of nature that Moreau dumps on him without his say.

(This isn't Mikhail's fault, as Misha is just a child that wants affection, but having a needy, vulnerable little brother figure suddenly dropped on him in the midst of all that horror couldn't have made Vanitas feel less out of control).

Then Vanitas's torment by Moreau hits its climax, and Vanitas is told that not only has his body been violated by way of pain and torture—even his basic humanity has been and will be stripped from him. He now feels the disgust of having the blood of something he hates inside of him without his consent. And he's about to be killed, turned into a mindless husk of a "living key" instead of a person.

And that's when Luna shows up. This mysterious, incredibly powerful being appears and wreaks havoc on Moreau's lab like an avenging angel, and it agrees to Mikhail's request to take "us" along with it. Everything in Vanitas's life so far has taught him that he is powerless in the face of others' great power. Horrible shit just keeps happening to him forever, and this monstrous person sounds like they've just agreed to carry him off on Mikhail's request without a word of input from him. Of course he doesn't expect to be given a choice.

But he is.

Luna scoops up Mikhail, then they turn to Vanitas and ask if he would like to come along with them as well. After months or years of absolutely all of his autonomy and power being stripped away from him, the most powerful being Vanitas has ever encountered stops and gives him a choice about what he'd like to do next. They give him the option to go off on his own and decide his own fate rather than go along with them. And that's why Vanitas doesn't run away.

These are the images that flash through Vanitas's head right before he gets up and runs to Luna:

These moments are what inform Vanitas's choice. The memories of his father's death and Moreau's final experiment on him—his two most awful moments of abject helplessness.

When Vanitas runs to Luna and accepts their offer, these moments are what he's running from. He's fleeing from his inability to do anything or control his fate. He's running from a life of stolen agency. He's running toward the one adult who actually stopped and gave him a choice about what he'd like to do next.

Vanitas chooses Luna because they, despite having the power to kill or subdue him, give him the freedom to choose to accompany them in the first place. He's drawn to them not for protection, but as an escape to a life where he gets to keep making choices and grasp some agency.

Luna is the savior that gives Vanitas his freedom and autonomy back after it's stolen by Moreau. That's why it's so tragic that Vanitas carries their Mark in the present day. It's undeniable proof that, in their right mind or not, some version of Luna violated the fundamental trust and gift of autonomy that brought Vanitas into their family in the first place.

Luna's bite, both the physical violation and the transformation into inhumanity that it brings, is yet another way that Vanitas is stripped of all control of his body and fate.

[free-for-all-fics]

So I binge watched Squid Game season 2 a couple days ago and the brainrot is back in full force for The Recruiter and The Front Man. So here’s some more Squid Game prompts! Warning: These prompts are centered around Season 2 and contain spoilers! Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of these and I’d love to read it! 🔴🔺🟥

1. You knew The Recruiter when he was younger, back before he worked in the games and was removing and burning up the bodies of countless people. He was like the game players and homeless people at one point in his life, having hit rock bottom. His actions in the park are an expression of self-hatred and an attempt to set himself apart from them. The Recruiter has nothing but contempt to people who choose the lottery and is more than happy to stomp the bread just to spite them, but he happens to at least approve the people who pick the bread.

“These things aren’t human. They’re just trash, uterrly useless in this world.” He kept telling himself that and worked hard for a few years. Then they gave him a gun. It felt pretty good. Like his existence was acknowledged for the first time in his life. He doesn’t know which year it was but one day he was about to shoot a man who had lost a game. The guy seemed familiar. His dad. His dad was suddenly standing right in front of him. He was in tears, desperately begging him to spare his life. He shot him right in the middle of his forehead, and realized, “Ah. I’m cut out for this job.”

He had absolutely no qualms about shooting his own father dead. He even admits that when he killed his father in the games, he realized he was totally the type for his job, mentioning no remorse or guilt. But what if him shooting his own father proved his loyalty to the people he worked for and so they rewarded him by making him a recruiter and letting him keep you, the love of his life or object of obsession from his past life in the outside world. Asking the Host and his higher ups for a companion is just one thing, but it’s a big thing, and he’s scared to death that he will never see you again once he asks. Most of the staff are ruthless killers motivated by profit, but out of all of them, The Recruiter is one of the few who seems genuinely psychopathic, his businesslike attitude masking a vicious sadist who revels in humiliation, torture, and murder.

Still, it’s nothing short of a miracle in his mind that he’s allowed to have you. You’re just living your life, but then you get kidnapped and brought to an undisclosed location and while the room you’re in is admittedly very nice, you’re terrified. Turns out your kidnapper is your childhood best friend or college sweetheart who you lost touch with years ago when he went into the games. To you, he ghosted you or went missing and you were never able to find him. His own family hadn’t heard from him and didn’t know where he was. He’d go so far to keep you that he’d fake your death. He spoils you rotten but he also punishes you if you misbehave or act out of line. Treats you like a princess, fucks you like a whore kind of thing. He doesn’t keep around those dog bone shaped gags and possibly even sex toys or buy you nice lingerie and jewelry for nothing. He doesn’t want to break you as you’re his favorite toy, but he’ll do what it takes to properly train you until you learn to accept your place as his lover. His amiable facade comes down and it turns out he's psychotic and it frightens you but a part of him gets off on your fear. You see yourself as a prisoner, but he insists it doesn’t have to be that way if you just relax and love him back and be a good girl. You loved him once, didn’t you? You were his only friend. The only woman he’s ever loved. How hard can it possibly be to love him again? He’s the only one who can protect you and love you now. Everyone else thinks you’re dead.

He’d go so far as to kill anyone who stands in his way of having you, even your significant other if you have one or your family and friends. The Recruiter absolutely enjoys what he does to his victims, especially during the Russian Roulette game. You have no one else to turn to for comfort or conversation besides him. A part of him hates it when you cry but the other part of him is turned on by your tears and the fear in your eyes. He doesn’t have a god complex, more like a death complex. He’s given himself over completely to his philosophy of death. He believes he’s Death incarnated into a man with how people’s lives are in his hands, and that includes yours. And aren’t there so many famous artworks of Death and His Maiden? Why shouldn’t he be able to keep you as his?

If he was your first ever sexual partner, he’d make for damn sure he’s the only one through silently and stealthily arranging for your other potential partners to die in tragic “accidents” or go missing with their bodies never found. Just like he’s dedicated himself to the games, he’s dedicated himself to proving he’s worthy of you everyday by protecting you and giving you everything you ask for - except real freedom, of course. He can only give you semblances of freedom by allowing you outside under heavy guard watch or his watch. You can’t go anywhere alone anymore. You can’t have a cell phone that connects to the internet (or if you are allowed the internet, you’re only given access to certain websites while the rest are blocked) or any phone numbers except his. He’s practically isolated you.

2. Going off the idea of what if you knew The Recruiter back when he was younger and working in the games: Alongside him, you’re also a pink guard. You’re one of, if not the only female guard. The Recruiter is the first to find out that you’re a woman despite the mask covering your face, the voice modulator, and the suit covering your body. You spend a lot of time together when you have to shoot the eliminated players and then remove and burn the bodies. You use a separate channel on your walkie-talkies to have private conversations while you’re on a job during the games or to talk from your separate dorms after the day’s work is done. When other male guards try to attack or sexually assault you in your room for getting in the way of their illegal organ harvesting side hustle due to you shooting the bodies in the heart or head to ensure the players die quickly and make the organs unusable, he comes to your rescue when he hears the struggle over the walkie when you manage to press the button. He practically breaks your door down and takes the guards out with his bare hands or a random object in your room. He’s so strong and skilled he doesn’t even need to use a gun or a knife (in the show he subdued two men just with his briefcase). You watch as he subdues both guards, knocking them out with ease. He would’ve loved to kill them in that moment, but he doesn’t have the right to do that. He can only report the incident to the Captain/In-Ho. Pink guards cannot kill other pink guards. They’re only permitted to kill players. Only the Captain can kill pink guards.

After interrogating them and reviewing the security footage, In-ho kills the guards who attacked you and puts an end to the organ harvesting for that year by killing all of the guards operating it. Whether they sell off organs from the dead or devour them, he doesn’t give a damn. However, the most crucial element of this place is equality. Everyone is equal in these games, including guards. Players compete in a fair game under the same conditions. Guards work under the same conditions. They are to follow the instructions they are given. There is a principle to these games. And those guards that attacked you for being a woman and doing your job and the guards operating the organ harvesting side hustle broke that principle.

Later, after work is done for the day and guards are ordered to return to their rooms, The Recruiter sneaks into yours so that the two of you can have sex. When he saw you getting attacked, he wanted more than anything to rush to your side and comfort you and hold your hand and ride his adrenaline-filled high by having sex with you after subduing the guards, but duty called so he couldn’t. When In-ho is overlooking the security cameras and notices The Recruiter in your room instead of his own with both of your masks off, locked in a heavy make out session while he has you lifted in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangling in and pulling his hair while his hands cup under your thighs to hold you up against the wall, your pink jumpsuits half way unzipped, he changes the cameras to play back earlier footage of both you and him so that it looks like you’re alone in your rooms so his higher ups won’t suspect anything while you inevitably do whatever it is you want to do. The Recruiter and you have proven your loyalty. You both deserve a reward. As long as you’re both back in your own rooms by morning call, he doesn’t care.

After that, The Recruiter shoots his own father dead after he fails a game. You and he work your way up to becoming the recruiters you are now, possibly even posing as a friendly married couple to get vulnerable people to trust you more (even better if you’re actually married as it makes the ruse more convincing). You do love each other in your own way, but you also are well aware that love makes people incredibly easy to manipulate and you use that to your advantage in your line of work. Together you prey on people who are hanging by a thread and are the best performing recruiters the games have ever had. In the privacy of your home, you listen to opera music, share drinks, and get down to all kinds of kinky shit when you find yourselves in the mood. You take turns when it comes to who’s dominant and who’s submissive, and your sex games often include bondage, roleplay, pain, and blood. And sometimes the blood isn’t even yours or his. When people get nosy for their too damn good, you and/or he have to take care of that.

3. Underneath the smiling facade, The Recruiter is little more than a small fry. When Gi-hun repeatedly calls him a lapdog and considers him nothing compared to whoever he works for, it gets under his skin, although he doesn't have a complete breakdown over it. Getting reminded of this repeatedly is part of why The Recruiter eventually shoots himself in the chin. But let’s pretend The Recruiter doesn’t commit suicide. Instead of being strictly dominant or strictly submissive, this man is a switch. While he loves to be in control sometimes and use your body however he wants, there’s also times when it’s you who’s the dominant one. You dress up and behave as a dominatrix while you put a mask over his face to blindfold him, gag him with the bone shaped gags and tie him up, doing to him whatever you want and calling him your dog. Your good boy. He runs, barks, wags his tail, does whatever you, his mistress, says and you reward him with praise, treats, etc. You do the same thing when it’s his turn to be the master and for you to be his good girl, his bitch. This man would probably be into puppy play whether it’s you who’s the puppy or him. And yeah that would probably include either of you being locked in a human sized cage or an actual dog kennel as punishment for whenever you misbehave. You’d take turns between who’s holding the leash and who’s on it on all fours, etc. The sex acts you do together, this dominatrix and roleplay arrangement you have, it’s like therapy for him in a way. A way for him to reclaim being called a dog when he was young and poor and turning it into something good. Even if it’s dehumanizing at times. The humiliation and the sadism is part of what turns you both on. Of course you’d have a safe word, aftercare, and all of that. But let’s be real: He’s just as skilled as you are at taking orders, deepthroating objects, and being penetrated.

4. Inspired by the film “The Odds”: You join an underground game of pain endurance, hoping to win the cash prize of one billion won. But it’s not the traditional squid games where you’re competing with other players in person. This is something different. This is the squid games before the squid games became what it is today. Instead, you’re isolated in a windowless room with little more than a table, a couple of chairs, a cot to sleep in and a toilet to shit in. It’s like a prison almost. Whenever you’re given a shower, if ever, you’re heavily sedated so you don’t lash out against the workers bathing you. The Recruiter is one of many who are assigned to players to keep them company, explain the rules of each game, and oversee their progress. Each player has their own recruiter assigned to them and The Recruiter we’re familiar with in the show is the one assigned to you. You have nobody else but him to keep you company. You don’t ever see anyone, don’t ever hear anyone except for him. He looks awfully familiar and you have a strong feeling you’ve met him before, that you know him from somewhere. Throughout the course of the week that you’re there, you’re determined to figure out how you know him. In the meantime, you flirt with each other, playfully talk about getting married and having a house and kids when you get out.

But at some point during the course of the games, the playfulness erodes and The Recruiter turns dead serious, revealing that he’s so in love with you that it’s like an unhinged obsession. Maybe you choosing to come here was in actuality you being lured into a trap, all a part of his elaborate plan to finally get you right where he wants you to fulfill his sick and twisted romantic and sexual fantasies. Maybe before that, he paid sex workers and strangers who looked like you to sleep with him, just to keep him satiated so he wouldn’t snap and kidnap you before the time was right. He might’ve gone so far as to call them by your name and become really scary real fast if they tried to correct him. The things he did to those women might’ve been so bad that they were unspeakable. But he paid good hush money to keep them quiet. And if that didn’t work, a bullet always did. But sleeping with all those women could never live up to the real thing. Nobody watching you now would be able to hear you nor would they care if he had sex with you in between games. He’s done it before with desperate female players who wanted to stay alive a little longer. And if they performed sexual favors for him as he asked - more like ordered them to do - Who is he to deny pretty women an extra five minutes of being allowed to breathe before he pulls the trigger? A deal is a deal and he’s a businessman.

He’s a man of do the wrong thing, yield rewards. To him, he’d feel like he’s entitled to your love and your body after all he went through in his life to get to this point. He’s worked his way up from a nobody who just disposed of and burned bodies, then they gave him a gun, then he became a recruiter. One of the best if not the best in the company. He’d kill for you. Even if you don’t ask him to. Even if you plead with him not to do anything and let it go. But he’s also so unhinged he might even hurt or kill you if you fail to live up to his deluded fantasies. If he does hurt you, he’d do the classic, “Look what you made me do! I didn’t want to have to do that. I didn’t want to hurt you but you gave me no choice so this is all your fault and not mine,” shtick.

You soon discover the game's rigged, and your real opponent is The Recruiter - a sadistic psychopath, who works for the Host and the organizers of the game and knows everything about you. He knows why you’re here and about your child, bringing them up to keep you motivated to continue before you ever mention them to him. He’s just one of many of a network of people ranging from VIPs to guards who are part of this game. The way you see it, you have three choices: Provoke The Recruiter into killing you if you don’t die from the games before then, give into The Recruiter’s sexual advances to survive without playing all of the games and join him, becoming his lover/wife and possibly a Recruiter yourself, or survive through all of the games and kill The Recruiter. He keeps saying you can leave at any point but you realize over time that this is a lie and if you try to leave, you’ll be shot dead either by him or one of the guards.

(Below is some dialogue from the movie with some minor changes to showcase how Recruiter coded this scenario is.)

~

“So, yes, it is necessary to keep the location a secret due to the legal technicalities of the game. You know the rules, right?”

“Yup, but you can tell me again, Mr...”

“No names. It works better for me if we keep things less personal, you know?”

“Right. Kind of like a manager-employee relationship. I get it.”

“If you like. Anyway, the game, there are 19 other players at 19 other locations just like this.”

“In this city?”

“All over the country. There's a clearing house that receives and broadcasts the signal to select clientele. The same clearing house acts as a broker for all wages concerning the game.” He puts in his earpiece and presses a button. “Receiving end, online? Okay. Yeah, just a couple minutes, we'll get started.” He sits across from you at the table.

“Have you done this a lot?”

“A few times, yeah. There are five preliminary rounds followed by the finalist round. If you leave at any point during the preliminary rounds, you will leave with zero prize money.”

“I won't quit.”

“All players who get to the finalist round are committed to the game and may not leave.”

“I said I won't quit.”

“Okay. Now, the finalists will continue to play until there's only one player left. That winner will receive the money.”

“Have you ever hosted a winner?”

“Let's not worry about that. You just stay focused.”

“It's weird that people would bet on something like this.”

“Do you know any real gamblers? Real gamblers will make odds on anything.”

“And the prize money, it's a lot?”

“Some people think so.”

“I heard it was a billion won.”

“Where'd you hear that?”

“Same place I heard about the game.”

“Hm. That's correct, and the funds will be deposited in the winner's account.”

“They must pay you a lot. That's why you're here, right?”

“I'm here for the same reason as you.”

“I doubt that.”

“Now it's almost time.” He takes a candle out of his briefcase and sets it on the table.

“I thought there was gonna be a gun.”

“Not yet.”

“Have I met you before?”

He listens to his device. “Congratulations, your drug test came back clean.”

“Of course it did.”

“I'm sorry, we have to check. Some players come in high, performance enhancing drugs, so to speak.”

“Well, drugs are where you go when you can't stand the pain anymore.”

“Where do you go, if you don't have drugs?”

“I guess we'll find out.”

He listens to his device. “Hm. Yes? We're good. You're good? Okay, standing by.”

“I know that they can see us, but can they...”

“Hear us? No. Say what you want. Your secrets are safe with me.”

“I don't have any secrets.”

“Everyone has secrets.”

“No, all my shit's pretty much out in the open.”

“All the shit you know about.”

“I think I know my shit pretty well.”

“This game has a way of illuminating a person.” He lights the candle.

“Oh, that's nice. You gonna put on some mood music? I'll take the Chardonnay.”

“So here's what's gonna happen, round one, on my signal, you, along with 19 other players, will hold your hand over the candle and keep it there. When three people have removed their hand, the round is over. Those players are out of the game. Everyone else will advance to the next round. Understand? Hello?”

“Yeah, I just... I heard it was different.”

“Used to be. They like to change things up, keep it exciting. You don't have to do this. It's still not too late to leave.”

“I've got nowhere else to be.”

“How about a home?”

“I messed that up.”

“You must have family somewhere. Everyone has family.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Kids?”

“No.”

“But if you did, how would you feel if someone took him or her away from you?”

“I guess I wouldn't like it.”

“And how would you feel knowing that he or she should've been taken away from you...that she...he, was better off...and that maybe now the only thing to do is to win a big pile of money so that he or she could have the kind of life that he or she deserves?”

“Hm. I don't think I'd ever risk my life over a pile of money.”

“Well, that's all mine's good for at this point.”

“Hey, listen. Look at me. We're in this together, you and me. I'm rooting for you, you understand? So just settle in. We'll do this. Word of advice, this is as much a mental game as anything else, so just keep that in mind if you really want to see this through to the end.”

“I'm gonna hear the words ‘you win’, or I'm not gonna hear anything at all.”

“That's it. Visualize success, that's good.”

“You say that to all your players?”

“Just the ones that seem to need it.”

“Have you ever played, from my side?”

“Let's get through round one, then we'll talk. We're about to begin. Last chance before the pain starts.”

“The pain started a long time ago.”

~

Round One

You hold your hand over the candle, while The Recruiter encourages you the whole time.

“That's it. Keep going. You can do this. Come on. Just breathe. Focus on breathing. You can do this. Come on. Just breathe. Okay, focus on breathing. Focus on breathing. Another player's out. Just one more player. Just one more player has to quit. Number three's out! You made it. You did it. Let me see. Come on.” He takes out a first aid kit from his briefcase and treats your wound. “So, we made a deal, and no, I haven't played the game from your side of the table.”

“How many?”

“How many what?”

“How many times have you done this?”

“14.”

“And how many of those players won?”

“You don't want to know.” A long pause before he finally answers, “None of them. Most players quit before the final round.”

“But some of them made it.”

“I've seen two men and three women blow their brains out.”

“You're just a little bad luck charm, aren't you? Did you ask the other players why they did it?”

“Same reason as you, the money.”

“Same reason as everyone I'm playing against now?”

“I wouldn't worry about the other players.”

“I just want to know who my competition is.”

“Most games, you're competing against someone, right? But in this game, you can't affect the other players. Can they make you leave this room? Who can?”

“You could try.”

“Okay, take me out. Who does that leave? That's right, you. And that's what they're betting on, how much you can take.”

“I'll take whatever you throw at me.”

“It won't be me throwing it at you.”

“So there is someone else here.”

“I'm a facilitator. The challenges for each round, they've been chosen by the organizers.”

“So it's not you. You're just doing their dirty work for them.”

“I didn't make you come here. I didn't make you sit there. I didn't force you to put your hand over a candle. You think I enjoy watching you do this? You think I like watching people hurt themselves? Man. Things I've seen, you don't forget it, you know?”

“Then why do you keep doing it?”

“You've never done something you knew wasn't good for you? Sit down. We're on the same side. That's the thing about this game, it...” He’s interrupted by information coming through his earpiece. “Round two, ready.”

“The thing about this game?”

“What?”

“You were just about to say ‘the thing about this game.’”

“The thing about this game is that it changes you.”

“Good?”

“I don't know how good it's been for me.”

“Maybe you've been playing from the wrong side of the table. Are you sure we haven't met before?”

“It's time.”

~

Round Two

“Round two. Players will put their bare right foot inside the box. The three that remove their feet lose. The rest move onto the next round.”

“And there's something in the box?”

“Yes.”

“And you don't know what it is?”

“No.”

Something from inside the box moves and makes a noise, causing you to jump.

“Hey, hey. It's okay.”

“What's in there?”

“I don't know.”

“That's bullshit.”

“They don't tell us.”

“You said that you have done this before.”

“It's different every time. It's probably not as bad as you think.”

“Fuck it, I'm out of here.”

“Now wait. What about your child?”

“Why do you care? You get paid anyway, I assume.”

He removes his ear piece so the organizers won’t hear what he says to you next. “Are you afraid of rats?”

“What?”

“Are you afraid of rats?” He puts his earpiece back in. “You need to decide, soon. One player just dropped out. That just leaves two for elimination.”

“This is insane.” You remove your shoe and sock. “So it's just in there waiting for me to put my foot in?”

“There's a separation barrier. When I get the signal, I remove it.”

“How fun for you.”

“I'm right here with you.”

“That's a comfort.”

“No, I mean it, okay? I'll help you.”

“You better.”

“It's almost time.”

“I must be crazy.”

You put your foot in the box.

“You got this.”

“I got this.”

“I mean, nothing's gonna happen. Oh, god, it's moving. It keeps moving.”

“Breathe. Mm-hm.”

“It's touching me, it's touching me. It's on me. It's off, it's off, it's off. Oh, fuck!”

“Think something else, okay? Don't think about this.”

“Oh, God, ow, ow, ow! It's back on me.”

“Think of something else. Okay, think of something else, don't think about this.”

“Oh, shit. I can't do this.”

“You can, yes, you can.”

“Ow, it's biting me! It's biting me.”

“No, it's not... One player's out, okay? That just leaves one more left.”

“Ow! Ow, it's eating me!”

“Look at me, look at me! I'm right here with you. Do it for me. Say it. Say it!”

“Do it for you. Do it for you.”

“Good. Again.”

“Do it for you.”

“Good. Again.”

“Do it for you. Do it for you. Do it for you. Do it for you. Do it for you. Do it for you. Do it for you.”

“That's it! It's over. It's over.”

You remove your bleeding foot from the box and cry in The Recruiter’s arms as he holds you.

~

He’s wrapping your foot with fresh white gauze. “Don't look. Okay.” He kisses your bandaged foot. “I kissed your boo-boo.”

You have some time to kill while you and he wait for the next game. He gives you a bottle of water. You need to stay hydrated. Lots of water.

“Gonna figure out where I know you from.”

“Well, good luck. Okay, let's say you don't quit.”

“I won't.”

“Right, you won't. Let's say you make it. You've already told me what you're gonna do for your child. What are you gonna do for you? If you really think you're gonna make it through, you should have a plan.”

“Yeah, well, I'm not really big on plans.”

“No, seriously, instead of giving your child the money, why don't you take them somewhere instead? Find a nice quiet place, bring along their daddy.”

“You had me going till you mentioned that asshole.”

“Okay, not him, a nice guy.”

“Why is it that everyone thinks that if a woman has problems, a man is somehow the answer?”

“You don't believe in love?”

“Maybe some people just aren't meant for it. Maybe they're just not built...for it.”

“Maybe some people haven't met the right guy.”

“And that's you? From bad luck charm to Mr. Right?”

“You could do worse.”

“Okay. All right. So say it is you, Prince Charming, man of my dreams, we're living together.”

“Mm-hm, married.”

“Really?”

“I don't do that cohabitation shit. You either commit or you get out.”

“And that's you? Mr. Commitment?”

“Damn straight.”

“So, is this a proposal?”

“I guess it is.”

“Well, either it is or it isn't.”

“It is.”

“Sweep me up my feet, why don't you?”

“You don't find this place romantic? So, we're in our home...”

“I didn't say yes.”

“You playing hard to get?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. A little. I mean, come on, we just started dating. How do I know you're not just marrying me for my money?”

“What if I don't need your money? What if I already have money?”

“Great, then let's get outta here. I don't have to do this anymore.”

“Well, then again, maybe I don't have that much money.”

“Okay, so, no money. Why should I say yes?”

“Because, deep down inside, you believe in love too. So, what's it gonna be?”

“How about we get through the next round, then I'll tell you.”

“You are playing hard to get. Ready for round three.”

~

Round Three

“What the fuck is it? Or should I ask what goes in it?”

“Your other foot. We go till three players drop out. You can do this.”

“Have you ever done this one before?”

“No. This is new territory for me. They're telling me we need to get ready.”

“Should I sit or stand?”

“Whatever you prefer. We're ready.”

“I don't suppose anybody's dropped out yet. Just wait.”

“Okay. Round three, turn one. I'm sorry.”

“That feels as bad as it looks.”

“All players are still in. Second turn. Hey, hey, hey, hey. Do it for me, remember?”

“Wait, wait for me. Wait.���

“Turn number three.”

You pass out from the pain. You wake up to his voice.

“Player three has quit.”

~

He wraps up your other foot. “There. All better.”

“You’re pretty good at that.”

“One of my many talents.”

“Nine players are out by my count.”

“You're knocking them down. So...what about the answer now?”

“The answer to what?”

“Are we gonna do it, when all this is over? Are we gonna tie the knot?”

“Sure.”

“Well, then. Well, then how about a kiss for your fiancé?”

He kisses you. While he does, he slips a pill into your hand. “It's for the pain. Don't let them see,” he whispers into your ear. “Well, passed the halfway point.”

“Yeah, after this, marriage should be easy.”

“Yeah. Maybe every couple should go through something like this.”

“It's a great story to tell the grandkids.”

“Grandkids? We haven't even gone on the honeymoon.”

“Please, honeymoon.”

“Why not? Must be somewhere you want to go. Vegas, Paris, Costa Rica?”

“Not really.”

“Come on, nothing? Nothing interests you? And afterwards, when we get back to our apartment in the city...”

“In our house in the country.”

“Country's boring.”

“Can't have horses in the city.”

“Horses? More than one?”

“You can't have just one horse.”

“I'm not shoveling horse shit.”

“Fine, I want a divorce.”

“On what grounds?”

“Irreconcilable differences.”

“Okay, fine. A house in the country with horses.”

“Wow, what a pushover.”

“What can I say? I'm in love.”

You lay down on the ground with him, side by side, staring up at the ceiling.

His hands are behind his head. “You know, you can rest in that house in the woods.”

“Then I'd sleep for a week.”

“And after you wake up?”

“I don't know, maybe plant a garden.”

“What do you know about gardens?”

“As much as I know about anything else, I guess.”

“You think you could keep a bunch of plants alive?”

“What about you, mister? You're just gonna live off my money?”

He sits up. “There's lots of stuff I can do.” He gets up off the ground.

“I didn't mean anything by it.”

“I know what you meant.”

“Come on, I was just joking.”

“Sounded like an insult.”

“Why would I insult you? You're the only friend that I have.”

“That's true. Standing by.”

“God, can't they just give it a minute?”

“I know, like, what are they in a hurry for? They'll make their money.”

“Have you met them, the people running this?”

“A couple. They're not like what you think.”

“I think they're a bunch of weirdos who get off watching sick shit.”

“That's not it, at all. They're more like researchers of human behavior, and this is the ultimate laboratory.”

“Come on.”

“No, seriously, how do you think they have the money to fund an operation like this? They get to bet on human behavior every day, and win. Of course they'd be interested in a game like this.”

“We're just pawns to them. I doubt they even see us as people at all.”

“But it doesn't really matter what they think though, does it? And anyway, you should be grateful they've even given you this opportunity. If you weren't here, where would you be?” He sits on the table and slides his body over to you. “On the street, in a crack house sucking dick for a fix until your looks rot away and your teeth fall out? Where would your child be? In a group home getting daily beat downs from all the other toss aways with fuck-ups for parents. You know, you should be thanking the people who created this game, and you should be thanking me. This is the best opportunity for someone who screwed up all their other options.”

“Well, I'll be sure to send them thank you notes later.”

He suddenly smiles. “Look at that, our first fight. Come on, I was just playing. Let's get back to our house.”

“Maybe later.”

“Time’s up.”

~

Round Four

“How long can you hold your breath? It's a simple question, really. How long can you hold your breath?”

“I don't know.”

“Round four is easy. You just have to hold your breath.”

“I just have to hold my breath?”

“Yeah, well, that is while I'm holding your head underwater. You don't have a fear of drowning, do you? Hydrophobia, I think it's called. 'Cause if you did, this will be pretty tough.” He takes a bullet out of his pocket. “Bite on this. I'm kidding, just hold onto it. Jeez. Here's what's gonna happen, you're gonna face the tank, and when the time comes, I'm gonna hold your head under the water. You... You hold your arm out. If you want me to let you up, you just let go of the bullet. See? First three players to let go are out. Everyone else stays. You trust me, right? Well, you should, we're married.”

“I guess.”

“You guess? What do you mean you guess? You wouldn't marry somebody you don't trust, would you? Good. You know, it's good that you trust me 'cause that way you know that when it's time when everyone drops out, I won't just keep your head under the water. Oh. Looks like we have someone afraid of drowning. Our first dropout. You're not gonna drop out, right?”

“Right.”

“Because you want that house in the country, and you trust me, right?”

“Right.”

“Say it.”

“I trust you.”

“And you love me. Say it.”

“I love you.”

“Oh.” He tucks your hair behind your ear. “Whoops. Looks like we got another dropout. Okay, we got to get this thing going before we lose any more. Deep breaths. When the third player quits, I'll let you up. Get ready. On the count of three. One. Two. Three.”

While your head is underwater, you dissociate and experience flashbacks of your life before this, of your child. “I love you.” You hear their voice say. That’s the last thing you see before The Recruiter pulls you back up as you cough and move your wet hair out of your face.

“I thought you were gone! Jesus, why didn't you let go of the bullet?”

“I swallowed it. Only way to make sure that I didn't drop it.”

The Recruiter gives you a towel, admittedly impressed.

~

“You know, with a little effort you could be a very attractive woman.”

“What am I supposed to say to that?”

“Well, when someone compliments you, it's polite to thank 'em.”

“Thank you.”

“How many guys have you dated?”

“How's that any of your business?”

“Well, if we're gonna be married, it's something a husband should know. Come on.”

“Come on, what?”

“How many?”

“I don't know.”

“That many?”

“Do you want to know how many I've dated, or how many I've fucked? Because I didn't keep count, but it was a lot. And sometimes I didn't even know their names.”

“Now why do I get the feeling that you're saying this just to hurt me?”

“You're sick in the head.”

“I bet you were a real looker. I bet the boys couldn't keep their hands off you. Hey, how old were you when you did it the first time? Sweet 16, 15? Yeah. You were an early bloomer.” He cups your breast and you instinctively slap him. He slaps you back, harder. “I'm sorry, but you should not have made me do that.”

“You know, you can't do whatever the fuck you want.”

“Come on, don't be like that. Let's get back to how it was before. And, you know, to tell you the truth, I've been wanting to do that for a while now.”

“You can't do whatever it is that you want.”

“Who are you kidding? Like you didn't want me to.”

“What?”

“Look, if you didn't want me to do that, why are you still here? You could've left at any time.”

“I’m here for the game, that's all.”

“Maybe this is part of it. You ever think about that?”

“No.”

“No? Well, of course it is. Why else would you be here?”

“For my child.”

“No!” He slams his hand on the table. “Don't give me that shit. No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We alone walk the path. The Buddha said that. He was a smart guy, everyone says so. You put yourself here. You decided to stay 'cause you know that we belong together.”

“I didn't ask for any of this.”

“Why else are you here? Look, you could've gone any time. There's the door. It's always been there. Go on. Go on if this is so wrong. Nobody's stopping you. You won't go, because you know you belong here. You deserve this. Your whole life has been a long, long path that's led you to me.” He grabs your face and forcefully kisses you while you sob. At that moment, a guard walks in with a long bag containing something for the next game, causing him to move away and break the kiss. “We're on a schedule. You might want to reconsider. This might be your last chance.”

“For what?”

“To make love as a whole person. Round five. Here's where you really start to leave some skin in the game, so to speak.” He opens the bag, revealing a red hot branding iron. “It's not that bad, really. The Yakuza, you know the Yakuza, right? Japanese mafia, they do this kind of thing all the time. When they've screwed up, they remove body parts. It’s how they apologize for... Oh, forget it. Just take my word for it, you're not the first, you won't be the last, unless you want to leave. You go through with this, you won't be the same. Some cultures would consider you heavily scarred. Personally, I think you'll be plenty serviceable, but, you know.... If you're afraid of the pain, I can give you another Oxy.”

You take the Oxy that he gave you out of your pocket and set it on the table. He quickly swipes it off the table and puts it in pocket so the organizers don’t see.

“Jesus! Suit yourself. After this round, you'll probably be a freak, probably have a limp, from your legs being burned so much. Who will want to fuck you then?”

“I’m sure as long as I have all my lady parts, any sick fuck like you will.”

He pulls out protective gloves from the bag and puts them on. He takes hold of the branding rod.

“We're ready. Scoot your chair forward and remove your pants.”

You do as instructed, not letting yourself feel embarrassed for being sat half naked in front of him.

~

Round Five

Your ears ring from all the pain you’ve suffered so far. The skin on your thighs is burning still, your once flawless skin now marred with dark patches. Luckily the brand isn’t engraved with anything, but you know The Recruiter still gets a sick joy out of branding you. Like he thinks doing so means he owns you. Still, The Recruiter admits to you that he’s impressed with how many burns you’ve been able to endure so far. Some turns he held the branding iron to your skin longer than others, making the coloration in your skin vary. As the rounds progressed, you moved up from your thighs to one of your arms.

“Well, it's about time now. Turn seven. After this, your wrist will hurt so bad you won't be able to pull the trigger with your left hand. That career in trick shooting, it's out. Go on, get ready. You know, think about it, you don't really use your left arm much anyway. It's a right-handed world, you know?”

You’re whimpering and sobbing from the pain. Despite how difficult it is, you get up from your chair and walk away. You stand in front of the door.

“You're about to lose. You go through that door, all of this would've been for nothing. Is that what you want?”

You knock on the door.

“Wait! Three players have all just dropped out. You made it. Don't do it.”

“I have to pee.”

A masked guard opens the door and escorts you to the bathroom. He’s standing there the whole time, watching you impassively while you wash your hands and have an emotional breakdown in the corner. You stare at yourself in the mirror and gradually calm down, your resolve hardening as you think about your child. You hold a middle finger up in the mirror and pretend you’re giving it to The Recruiter.

~

When you make it back to the room, The Recruiter is sat in a chair, holding your discarded underwear in his hand. At some point during the game, it was too painful to wear them when the fabric brushed against the burns on your upper thighs.

“You mind? I thought I'd hold onto these. You know, something to remind me of our time together. What? Like you're not gonna use 'em. I’ll buy you much nicer lingerie to wear for me when this is over.” He tucks your underwear into his inner suit jacket pocket. “Well, sit if you're gonna. You know, I'll tell you something. I knew from the moment I saw you that you'd go the distance.”

“Is that right?”

“Mm-hm. Damaged people are tough. Fire, temper, steel, and all that.”

“You could tell I was damaged, huh.”

“Honey, you shone like a lighthouse. I wish I could've bet on you.” He gestures to the revolver on the table in between you. “Ever use one of those before? Don't worry, they're pretty user-friendly. You just point and click. If you don't hear the click, you're already dead.”

“Have you been a dick to all the players you've done this with, or am I just special?”

“I mean, they're all special, really, but if it makes you feel any better, you're my favorite.” He winks at you.

It’s finally clicked for you who The Recruiter is. “I knew I'd met you before.”

“No. I’d remember you.”

“I've known you my whole life. See, I watched you get drunk and smash my older sister’s head into the front door when you were dating her. I dropped out of high school when you got jealous of my friends because you thought I was sleeping with them. I lied for you every time the neighbors called the cops because of the noise. I know you, very well.”

“You know, now that you mention it, you do look familiar. You look like every smartass bitch I've ever known. All the teachers who thought they were so clever, thought that they could just push around a kid. All the bitches in school who thought they could just lead a guy on, tease him. Those women at the jobs where they just wiggle their tits and their ass to get ahead of some poor son of a bitch who does the real work, who carries his load and hers too. You look like every stupid cunt who thinks the world should bow down and worship her because she was born with a pussy made of solid gold.”

“Nice. You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“I don't know what happened. You know, we started out so good. How did we end up like this?”

“I guess it was fate.”

“You think?”

“I think...I think…you know what I think?”

“Tell me.”

“I think that you found the perfect job to indulge in your sick fucked up fantasies.”

He slaps you, causing you to fall out of your chair and back up against the wall.

“You're right.” He slaps you again. “I can do anything I want to right now. You know what's funny? That's what you want me to do. You screwed your life up so bad, you'll take any punishment I dish out ‘cause you know you deserve it.”

“Don't touch me again.”

“I'm not finished.”

“You asshole. You have sat there and watched me do everything that I've done and you think that you can hurt me?!” You slap yourself.

“Oh, that's cute.”

You slap yourself again.

“Stop it.”

You slap yourself again and again and again and again and again. “You fucker. You wouldn't have the guts to do what I've done.”

Angry, he slams the camera face down on the table so the people watching can’t see as he grabs the gun off the table and wraps his arm around your neck, holding you in place and cutting off your oxygen. “You think you're some kind of hard bitch now?! Is this what you want, hard bitch?! You want to play?! Let's play.” He presses the gun to your head and pulls the trigger three times, all blanks as the gun clicks.

“What? What?!”

“You…don't…scare me.” You choke out.

He lets you go, slams the gun back on the table, and puts the camera back up. “That round’s a freebie.” He sits back down and combs his hands through his hair. “If you're gonna stay... It's time.”

You pull the chair back up off the floor and sit back down. “Just out of curiosity, later, if I decide to quit, what's gonna stop me?”

“You take that chair. If you try to leave the game, either me or my compatriots will shoot you dead.”

You sit down and scoot your chair up towards the table, getting ready.

~

Final Round

“There are five players in the final round. This will consist of as many turns as necessary to eliminate four players. All players will pull the trigger simultaneously.” He puts the bullet into the chamber and spins it, then places the revolver back on the table. “Wait for my signal. Take the position, please.”

You put the gun to your head.

“We're ready.”

He nods at you.

You pull the trigger. Blank.

“Thought you'd be disappointed.”

He laughs. “No. I'm glad you make it through the first round. I hope you last a long time. I want to see you break. That'll be fun, to watch you break down completely before you die.” He removes the bullet from the chamber and sets the gun aside. “Just waiting on the report. And one player has been eliminated. Down to you and three others. Relax. We'll give them a minute to place their bets. Is it everything you hoped for?”

“This is the easiest thing I've done all day.”

“Maybe so, but there's another asshole out there somewhere who went through everything you went through and now he's just a pile of meat, brain splattered everywhere. See, you think your pain buys you something, that you earn some kinda big cosmic karma where now you’ll get what you deserve. I got news for you, pain is just pain. It doesn't get you anything.”

“You're wrong.”

“We'll see, when it's your brains that are on the floor. Oh. Time for turn two. You know, if you die here...” he puts the bullet in the chamber and spins it. “…nobody will know. We'll just scoop up your body, throw it to an incinerator. It'll be like you never existed. Nobody will know you were ever here.”

“But I'll be dead, so I won't care.” You put the gun to your head and pull the trigger. Blank.

“Bang!” He yells, making you jump and drop the gun on the table as he laughs. “Oh. Oh, another one down. They're dropping like flies. The odds are catching up with you.”

“Yeah?”

“How many times you think you can beat this?”

“29.”

“That's a very specific number.”

“Well, it's as far as I ever got.”

“When?”

“When I practiced.”

“You practiced?”

“Oh, yeah. Bought a real gun, put an empty shell in the chamber, spun it around. It almost never came up, and I did it a lot.”

“What's the lowest number of times you went before it did come up?”

“3.”

“Hm. Well, just so happens we're coming up on turn number three.” He puts the bullet in the chamber and spins it.

“What part do you enjoy the most, watching all the pain, or this?”

“Darling, I like it all. Take your position, please.”

You take the gun from his hand and put it to your head. You pull the trigger. Blank. You slide the gun across the table at him so fast it nearly falls into his lap as he gasps.

“Why don't you take a turn?”

“Because I don't have to play.”

“That's a shame. I bet if you had to play, you'd see things a little differently.”

“Lucky for me, then, that I don't.”

“Lucky for you. So?”

“So, what?”

“What was the outcome of that round?”

“Oh. Nothing.”

“What?”

“No players were eliminated.” He tells you slowly, like you’re an idiot. “It happens, more often than you might think. Something wrong?”

“No.”

“Really? Because you look like every other dumb prick I've seen blow their brains out.”

“You ever see anybody win?”

“Not a one.”

“Then I'm due. See, it's kinda like the lottery, somebody's got to win.”

“Except when they don’t.”

“Every time you spin that cylinder, there are five chances out of six that that bullet won't come up.”

“That's true. Let's see if now is one of those times.” He puts the bullet in the chamber and spins it. “I think I got you on this one. No, seriously, I feel good about this. Go on. Do you feel it? This is it. Am I right? I think I have you. Come on, take the position. Yeah. This is the one. You ready to say goodbye? Say it. Say goodbye. Say it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Pull the fucking trigger.”

You pull the trigger. Blank.

“No players eliminated.”

“You think they're enjoying this as much as you are?”

“Maybe, probably more. You know, you last as long as you say you will, you're gonna make someone a lot of money.”

“And that's why they're doing this?”

“Sure, I told you, gamblers will bet on anything. This is the best game in town.”

“So they're putting money down on me right now?”

“Even as we speak, they're betting against you. Some are betting for you. They're betting to see how many rounds this will go on, whether we'll have a winner or not.”

“Whether what?”

“Sure, maybe one of these times, all the players are eliminated. It's possible.”

“But the odds of that happening...”

“Are 50/50, either it happens or it doesn't.”

“But that's not how odds work.”

“It's time.” He spins the chamber and sets the gun back on the table. “Pick it up.”

You hold the gun to your head and pull the trigger. Blank. You do it again. And again. And again. And again. You hold the gun to your head and pull the trigger 12 times. All blanks. You set the gun down again. The Recruiter takes the bullet out of the chamber and sets the gun off to the side.

“No players were eliminated. You know what I think? I think your child would be better off with no money and you dead than rich with a crazy bitch like you.”

“No.”

“No?”

“They need me. They need to know what love really is. They need to know what it looks like. They need someone to help them understand that they deserves it.”

“And that someone is you? You just figured this out?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well, then this wasn't a total waste.”

“Guess not.”

“You know what I'm gonna do after this?”

“Drown a puppy?”

“I think I'll go find your child. That one got you, didn't it?”

“Tell me, how have you made it this far without someone killing you?”

“Just my luck, I guess. Oh. There's been a change of plans. Seems the longevity of the current players has made the people upstairs change the rules around.” He adds a second bullet. “Now what do your odds look like?”

“It's not fair.”

“All the other players have the exact same challenge.”

“No one said...”

“Said what? You didn't practice for this? I'll be sure to tell your kid you said hi.” He puts the two bullets in the chamber and spins it. “Pick it up. Come on. You know the drill.”

You hold the gun to your head and pull the trigger. Blank.

“How many are left?”

“How many what?”

“Players. Someone has to have been eliminated.”

“Oh, yeah, that. One player was eliminated...as far as you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, as far as you know, it's just you and one other player.”

“I don't understand.”

“Then let me explain it to you. All that you know about this game is what I've been telling you, right? So, what if I told you I've been making up these last couple of rounds? What if I told you you've already won? Kinda funny if you think about it. What if you're the only one playing the game?”

“That wouldn't work. How would you bet on that?”

“Maybe the bet's not about who wins the game. Maybe you're the bet and it's simply how many times you'll keep pulling that trigger until you lose. Think about it. How would you know?” He suddenly laughs. “I'm kidding, yeah, of course. One of the other players really was eliminated. That leaves you and one more. And it's that time again.”

“So there really is another player?”

“I was just joking. Jeez, you got to learn how to lighten up. If the player could take their position please?”

“There really is another player?”

“Yes,” he says, highly annoyed.

“Prove it.”

“Hold on a sec. Assume the position!” He orders you.

“Prove that there's another player.”

“That's not how this game works. You got to trust me.”

You put the gun to your head.

“Ready.”

After staring at The Recruiter for a long moment, you remove the gun from your head, an idea coming to you.

“Pull. The. Trigger.”

You stare at him.

“Do it!”

You put the gun to your head and pull the trigger. Blank.

“I've been instructed that if you fail to comply again, you forfeit the game.”

You laugh. “Forfeit?”

He pulls up his shirt, showing the other gun tucked in his pants. “Then I'm instructed to shoot you.”

“Your bosses, money is just their excuse for playing. They don't really care about winning. They just want to see blood.”

“Now you're catching on. And they don't care whose it is. Oh. And we're upping the ante again.”

He adds a bullet.

“You forgot to say whether a player was eliminated.”

“Did I? What if I told you there wasn't really a game? What if I told you this whole thing was just made up? What if I told you it's been you and me this whole time?” He asks as he loads the bullets into the chamber.

“You're a liar.”

“Well, I guess we'll find out.” He spins the chamber. “It's time. Position. Please. Mm-hm. You got it.”

You grab the gun but don’t put it to your head. “Let me ask you this. What if there is just one bet? What if it's a 50/50 one?”

“That wouldn't make any sense.” He taps his temple to signal you to sssume the position.

You put the gun to your head. You don’t pull the trigger. “You know what? I think I have already won.” You point the gun at him. “I think the bet now is simply who walks out of this room.”

“That's not how this game is played.”

“You said it yourself, real gamblers will make odds on anything.”

“What if I told you that gun doesn't have any bullets?”

“I watched you.”

“Dummies, blanks. The real bet was to see how long you'd play before you quit.”

“Liar.”

“Okay. Okay, you're right. It wasn't fair, so just put the gun down, and we'll talk about changing the rules.”

“You're gonna change the rules?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Guys like you don't get to make the rules.” You pull back the hammer and stand up. “Do you know what your mistake was? You thought that the show was all about me, but you forgot that there are two animals in this cage.” You notice him sliding his hand back towards his gun. “You won't get it out before I pull the trigger.”

“If that chamber's empty, I got you.”

“I thought they were blanks.”

“You don't have the guts.”

You shoot. Blank. He flips the table up and makes a run for the door, failing to notice his gun has fallen out of his pocket as you keep shooting at him, firing off three live shots and then nothing but gun clicks. The door slides open to reveal a guard. You grab The Recruiter’s discarded gun off the ground and shoot at the the guards, killing some of them. You then play dead behind the upturned table. They let their guard down and when they get close, you shoot them dead too. The Recruiter comes from behind and tackles you to the ground and tries to strangle you to death. But you manage to get the upper hand.

Even though he could, he’s too proud to beg for your help as he lays on the ground, convulsing, dying. He just stares at you as he chokes on his own blood until he dies with his eyes wide open. A smile still on his face.

You pull his earpiece out of his ear and put it in your own, listening for the person on the other end to say something. And then you hear those two words:

“You win.”

5. What if The Recruiter faked his death like how Oh Il-nam did in season 1? He died with his eyes wide open and none of the other characters checked his pulse. This man is so unhinged and was always five steps ahead of the other characters, always knowing they were watching him and looking for him. He eluded them for two years. He got the jump on them and subdued two men with just his briefcase. So what if he had planned for every possible outcome during the Russian Roulette game too and had piping lined underneath his suit to spurt out fake blood at the right time and the bullet was a dummy or a blank? Squid game men love to fake their deaths. Gi-hun winning the Russian Roulette game and not giving into his mind games throws him into abject shock. That's the second time he loses his smug smile. Gi-hun throwing his words back in his face only makes it worse, to the point he's driven to suicide rather than admit Gi-hun is right. But what if his “suicide” was just a part of a contingency plan so he could lie low for a while and then eventually go back to recruiting players once Gi-hun wasn’t a problem anymore and it was deemed by the people he worked for that it was safe to do so?

After his fake death, he’s left alone in the room when the main characters leave. He gets up from the chair he was playing dead in, cleans himself up by changing his clothes and washing away the blood on his skin, and goes home to you, his wife, as if nothing happened. You’re kept in the dark about what he really does. (Or you’re in on it and help him get the bloodstains out of his clothes, though you work behind the scenes and use your computer and hacking skills to find potential players and learn everything about them. He has to get his information from somewhere, after all. But you don’t go “out into the field” so to speak like he does.) If you don’t know the truth, he explains that he’s been granted extended vacation time from his work and suggests a holiday outside of South Korea. What about Thailand? Or Italy might be nice. Anywhere you want to go, just say the word. He has plenty of money to sustain the both of you during said vacation so don’t worry if you can’t get the time off. You didn’t really like your job anyway, right? Or maybe you’re pregnant so you take advantage of maternity and paternity leave early. Either way, a months or years long holiday would sound heavenly, wouldn’t it? If you do know the truth, you’re prepared the second he gives you a call on your restricted phone and says just a few words. You’ve been prepared for this day for years.

6. A scenario very much like the Korean thriller movie “Addicted”. You’re the long time girlfriend of The Recruiter’s brother (Of course you know The Recruiter’s actual name but for simplicity’s sake, I’ll just call him The Recruiter so authors can choose whatever name they want to give him.) and get married. While he and his brother are very different as people, and the only thing they really have in common is the parents they share, they are very close despite having very different interests and personalities. You wonder if the only reason they get along so well is because of you since you’re the common link between them. The Recruiter decides to take part in a car race for money even though his brother, who is concerned for his safety, asks him not to do that particular race. With a heavy heart, your husband plans on attending the car race to support his brother. Running late, he has to hail a taxi. The speeding taxi crashes into a lorry, and your husband is seriously injured. At the same time as the taxi crashes, The Recruiter’s car overturns in the middle of the race and he is also badly injured. Both The Recruiter and your husband fall into comas.

A year later, The Recruiter wakes up but is unable to walk properly, due in part to his physical injuries. He is brought home by you, where you attempt to take care of him while he recovers. Over time, you realize that The Recruiter is behaving identically to your husband. He tries to convince you that he feels like he is actually his brother, your husband, unable to explain why. He agrees to go for a hypnosis test and his answers so reflect his brother's character, that the doctor concludes your husband’s spirit has entered his brother (The Recruiter’s) body. You’re devastated by this revelation. You, unable to accept The Recruiter as your husband, tell his girlfriend that you are unable to live with him. She offers to take The Recruiter away and he agrees to go with her for your sake. One rainy day, he appears to you just as your husband had before. You discuss memories together and you finally accept The Recruiter as the "possessed" spirit of your husband. The Recruiter and you then share a slow, emotional night together where you have sex after the tearful revelation. You start to live life together as a happy and loving couple. In time, you become pregnant with The Recruiter’s child. Meanwhile, your real husband is still on life support. The doctor suggests to you that there is no chance of your husband waking up and it may be best if he were allowed to die in peace. You agree, and watch with The Recruiter as your husband is taken off life support.

The Recruiter’s girlfriend returns and tells you that she has accepted the fact that her now ex-boyfriend is no longer himself, and that she can no longer love him. She decides to go abroad to study (she may or may not have been blackmailed or bribed by the Recruiter and the people he works for to keep quiet and get lost or else be shot dead and her body burned and never found). The Recruiter, living as your husband, continues life as normal. Recruiting players for the games and keeping you in the dark about what he does or who he really is. You’re not feeling well while you’re out and about with him, so you decide to go home to get some rest and let him stay as what he’s doing is too important for him to just leave with you. While you’re home, a weird looking package addressed to The Recruiter arrives. You open it and find a necklace which had been given to you by The Recruiter. It went missing one day. You thought you just misplaced it.

You read the accompanying note, from The Recruiter’s ex-girlfriend, saying that she cannot understand his crazy love for you and could never ever hope to be you, no matter how hard he tried to mold her into you. Frantic, you dig through The Recruiter’s workroom and find a number of hidden photos of yourself that were taken by The Recruiter. You realize that he had loved you before you married his brother. You also find a notebook that The Recruiter wrote about loving you and being happy because he is able to watch you and live with you through his brother. You cry sorrowfully. You drive back to The Recruiter. You take him aside and ask him various questions about something innocuous like works of art and comment that some pieces may look good in your home and he should consider bidding on them or buying them outright. You continue to pretend that your husband’s spirit is in The Recruiter’s body despite knowing the truth. The Recruiter scatters his brother’s ashes across the sea. He loved you even before his brother, and had for the entire time you were with him. He faked his leg injury so you’d take care of him for a few weeks before he could pretend it was all healed thanks to you. The Recruiter also confesses that he made use of all of his brother's secrets to "transform" himself into him, to the extent of sacrificing his own identity and behavior. He claims that it was he who died after the accident. He tells his brother that you will forever love him under the identity of your dead husband. He apologizes and asks his brother never to forgive him for his deeds.

7. Hear me out: A consensual non-consent/CNC roleplay fic with The Recruiter. While you’re not a loan shark yourself, you’re part of the team Gi-hun hires to help track down The Recruiter due to being an associate of sorts of theirs and being personally recommended to Gi-hun by them. You’re the only woman and the youngest amongst the many men you’ve worked with the past two or three years. Despite your gender and age, you’ve proven to them and to Gi-hun that you’re experienced and have had great success in finding people that don’t want to be found. You’re highly capable and confident that you can do this and you’re not just in it for the one billion won he promised to whoever finds The Recruiter. You’re with Kim Jeong-rae and Choi Woo-seok when they spot The Recruiter at Jonggak Station. The three of you are told to follow him carefully but avoid making contact and do not approach him. You watch him in Tapgol Park when he gives bread and lottery tickets to homeless people, but he doesn’t approach you, Choi, or Kim. Secretly, while Kim and Choi are shocked at The Recruiter’s behavior and think he’s a total nutcase when he stomps on all the bread after making a short speech to everyone, you think he’s so hot when he’s a little disheveled after all his stomping and combs his fingers through his hair, slicking it back and tucking his tie back into his suit blazer.

Despite Gi-hun’s order to not engage, you get the idea to follow The Recruiter down the alleyway and tell Mr. Kim and Mr. Choi that you might lose him if you wait and should just get him by yourselves. Before they can protest or tell you to wait, you’re running ahead, yelling for The Recruiter to stop. They don’t have time to argue and run after you to help you. When they get close, they witness The Recruiter hit you a couple times, so hard that the force of his hits causes you to stumble backwards and fall to the ground. You’re seemingly knocked out cold when your head makes impact with the hard cement. Despite Mr. Choi having a knife, The Recruiter easily subdues the two men with just his briefcase, knocking them unconscious for real. Once he tells you it’s okay to do so, you open your eyes. He grabs your hand and helps you up. You dust yourself off then help The Recruiter drag and carry Kim Jeong-rae and Choi Woo-seok’s bodies inside to finish setting up the room for Russian Roulette. Together, you stand on the roof of a building and watch Gi-hun from above. When he tells you, you take your place in a chair that’s in the middle so you’ll be in perfect view of both men when they wake up and you’ll have The Recruiter standing directly behind you the entire time, his body pressed against the back of your chair and hovering over you. You nearly moan and rub your thighs together while he fastens your wrists to the armchair and pulls the ropes extra tight. As he ties the gag around your mouth, he gives you a warning to behave or else he’ll make use of your mouth later. But all you can think is, “Mmm. Don’t threaten me with a good time, daddy.” You see the lust swimming in his deep brown irises underneath his faux irritation with you. You know that if he could, he’d fuck you right now. But like you, he’s sticking to the plan and is going to wait to start the game until the real players wake up. On command, you let out a few tears to make your acting all the more believable.

Kim Jeong-rae and Choi Woo-seok wake up and The Recruiter puts on opera music and explains the rules of Rock, Paper, Scissors, Minus One, and Russian Roulette, dramatically illustrating the penalty for the loser when he points the gun to his own head and pulls the trigger. But there’s another twist. They may have noticed you’re tied to your chair a little differently than they’re tied to theirs. That’s because, unlike them, you’re not playing. You’ll be an observer of sorts and won’t need the use of your hands. To their horror, The Recruiter then takes a knife or pair of scissors out of his pocket and violently cuts your clothes off your body. When you try to thrash and pull away from him, he slaps you and orders you to sit still unless you want him to cut your pretty skin. He grips your hair to keep you in place as he grazes the knife or scissors against your cheek, not cutting you, but coming very close. You sob harder and squeal in fear as you comply until you’re left in just your underwear, (because he is the only man allowed to look at your cunt) your shredded clothes in pieces around you. You don’t even have your bra or socks anymore. He explains to Mr. Kim and Mr. Choi that, for every time they tie and have to go again, he will touch you however he wants in front of them, seemingly without your consent. The first time they’ll tie, it’ll be for fifteen seconds. Then thirty. Then forty-five, and so on. And they’ll be forced to watch for the duration. He’ll point the gun and pull the trigger at whoever diverts their eyes before the time is up. He has so many fun toys he could use on you in his briefcase.

Your acting really sells it and adds to their fear and disgust. Whenever they tie, you pretend to cringe and sob every time The Recruiter touches you, letting out muffled screams as you beg him not to. He’d do all sorts of things to you, from fondling and squeezing your breasts, to sticking out his tongue and licking a long path on your skin from your wrist to your shoulder to your neck to your cheek before ending in biting your ear. He’d remove your gag for just a second, not giving you time to cry out before he’s tilting your head back to kiss your mouth, violating your lips with his own and the inside of your mouth with his tongue. He’d kiss you so hard that he’d bite down and your lower lip would bleed. After he’s done kissing you, he’d lick up the blood from your bleeding lip and immediately put the gag back in place. He’d drag the gun down between your breasts and to the inside of your underwear, rubbing it against your mound and teasing the possibility of inserting it inside your cunt, only to actually reach his other hand inside your underwear and finger you instead, using toys on you, etc. You’re such a pretty little actress, aren’t you? So good for him.

The exhibitionism, the humiliation, and Mr. Kim and Mr. Choi’s fear of death makes it all the more exciting for you and The Recruiter, especially when Choi and Mr. Kim beg him to stop, for you to be left alone. Though their pleas are just as muffled as yours. The shame and pity in their eyes as they’re forced to watch what they believe to be you being sexually assaulted by a sadistic stranger almost makes you want to laugh. But all games must end eventually. The time comes when The Recruiter puts five bullets into the chamber, increasing the chances of death to 5 in 6. When Mr. Kim refuses to take a hand away and sacrifices himself to spare Choi Woo-seok, The Recruiter shoots him dead. His blood splatters over the space between your breasts but only a little bit of it lands on The Recruiter’s cheek. As he passes by you, he strokes your hair with one hand, running his fingers through it and then letting it go as he bends down and congratulates a traumatized Choi on his win. He looks over his shoulder at your practically naked form, shivering and twitching with the aftershock of everything he did to you with just his tongue, hands, and toys thus far. He hasn’t even given you his cock yet and already you’re like this. He gloats that while Choi won the game, he’s the real winner who received the grand prize - you. He asks if they can have a talk. The Recruiter asks questions on Gi-hun’s location.

After the interrogation, The Recruiter knocks Choi out again and unties you so he can unbuckle his pants and manhandle you however he wants so he can have sex with you properly. Against the wall, on the table, on the floor, on the couch, it doesn’t matter. He’ll take you wherever and however he wants to take you. Rock, Paper, Scissors, Minus One and Russian Roulette was just a warmup. But this…this is even more intense. Even more passionate, primal, painful. When he inserts his fingers and/or cock inside you, it always hurts so damn good. He’s demanding, he’s high maintenance, but you always are able to keep up and know exactly what he wants without him even having to say a word. You read his body language so well. He’s the same way with you. He can tell exactly what you want just from the noises you make. Though he loves to hear you use your words and say it. He can be such a tease sometimes. He loves driving you to the precipice but withholding your orgasm from you until he believes you’ve earned it. He planted you within the Loan Sharks’ circle and tasked you with earning their and Gi-hun’s trust by using the information he fed you so you could pretend to be good at finding people. The ploy worked. Good girls deserve rewards and bad girls earn punishments. And while you’ve been bad at times over the past three or more years you’ve known him and have been punished by him accordingly, you were such a good girl for him in the game, so he’ll reward you by fucking you however you want and then giving you amazing aftercare. He hit you rather hard to make the act believable and your skin might be bruising, but you took it so well. He’ll get out the first aid kit and make you feel better in more ways than one. This plan was as much your idea as it was his. God, you’re so fucking brilliant, a perfect match for him in mind and body. He fucking loves you, even if he’s not the kind of man to say it often.

You change into the outfit he picked out and bought for you, including new lingerie to replace the set he half-destroyed. Could be a nice women’s dress suit similar to his. Something expensive but overall inconspicuous. When he goes to confront Gi-hun and play Russian Roulette again, you’re hidden in an alley nearby, waiting behind the wheel in the getaway car for after he either wins the game or fakes his suicide/death. Whether The Recruiter wins, loses, or Gi-hun breaks the rules and tries to shoot him, it doesn’t matter. You’ve planned ahead for every possible outcome, and they all end with the both of you getting away and lying low for a while, continuing your work for the games from behind the scenes. It’s not long before he opens the passenger door and has you drive, opening his briefcase where he has guns at the ready. He gives you the directions throughout the drive and you’re off. You’re like a professional stunt driver at the wheel, having no issues going high speeds, making smooth and fast turns, and weaving in and out of traffic to evade pursuers if you have to. He needs to keep his hands free in case you’re followed and he needs to lean out the window and shoot at anyone.

8. Going off of a previous thought I had now that season 2 revealed In-ho had a wife who died young from acute cirrhosis of the liver, and that he took bribes when he was a dirty cop because of her condition: What if In-ho went so far to save you from your illness that it turned into a Nora and Mr. Freeze situation? You were just a happily married couple but then you started feeling unwell. You didn’t think much of it at first, thinking your symptoms were from something else like the flu or food poisoning. It possibly got so bad that you fainted and hit your head on the way down. When he got home from work, your place was filled with smoke but no fire as the smoke alarms went off. Covering his mouth and nose, he was quick to open windows to let the smoke out. He found you unconscious in the kitchen, your hair matted by the pool of blood forming on the floor from your head wound. He’d never been so terrified until that moment. As much as he wanted to rush to you and make sure you weren’t dead, he had to secure the house first. He had to make sure you weren’t attacked and that, if you were, the attacker wasn’t still inside, hiding somewhere. With his gun pointed, he searched every room. All clear and nothing appeared to be stolen or out of place. He didn’t care about the burned dinner you were in the middle of making as he rushed you to the hospital. He was there with you, holding your hand during every doctor appointment, every test. And that was when you got the news. When he has a heart to heart with Gi-hun while undercover as Oh Young-il/Player 001, he tells him the truth. Not the whole truth, but some of it: That you’re very sick with acute cirrhosis and need a liver transplant (or any other disease and treatment of your choosing). But when you were going through the tests, you found out you were pregnant. The doctor suggested a termination, but you wouldn’t listen. You said you’d give birth even if it killed you. You’re stubborn. Your husband has never been able to change your mind about anything. You were struggling to find a donor and your condition was getting worse.

“Breathe. I'm right here. Look at me. Where's the formoterol?” He kneeled down next to you, wrapping his arm around you as you coughed violently (possibly coughing up blood) and struggled to inhale and exhale properly. He found the bottle and gave you the pill, helping you to drink by tipping the glass of water to your lips. The attack gradually subsided.

“That was the worst one yet.”

“That was the last pill. Why didn't you tell me?”

“I'm sorry. I forgot. There's so many. There's so many,” you cried.

“If you have another attack and you don't have this medication, you could die. You can't let this happen again.”

“Why? Does it matter?”

“It matters. I'll be back. I need to get this refilled.”

He went to the pharmacy, leaving you alone in your house.

“Next.”

“I need to get this refilled.”

“Do you have the prescription?”

“I have the bottle.”

“That's not the same thing, is it?”

“Please, I just need it refilled.”

“The original prescription doesn't have a refill order. If it doesn't have a refill order, I can't refill it.”

“This medication is for my wife. She's sick. She's in pain.”

“Everyone that comes in here is sick or in pain. Have your doctor write a new prescription. Then I can refill it.”

“Just give me the medication.”

“No.”

“You son of a bitch!” In-ho lunged at the man, trying to strangle him. He was pulled off and away by two other workers.

“Get out! Get him out of here! Get out of here before I call the cops, you kook!”

Call the cops? He was a fucking cop.

“You shouldn't have done that. I'll be back,” he warned, pointing a finger as he left.

You were admitted to the hospital though you could barely afford it and your husband visited every day until his visits suddenly stopped. You were worried but he never returned your phone calls. For an entire week, you didn’t hear from him. He borrowed as much money as he could, but it still wasn’t enough. He was desperate, then one of his oldest vendors heard about the situation and offered to help. So he borrowed money from them. But people saw it as a bribe and he got fired from his job. He had devoted his entire youth to it. The games were his last hope. He really needed that money even if it was blood money. He needed that money to save you and your child. That all happened in 2015 during the 28th annual squid games.

When he came back after he won a week later, he was all in black, including gloves and a mask that covered his entire face and changed his voice (not his Front Man outfit, but something similar). He was carrying a Heckler & Koch MP5A3 sub-machine gun and his Smith & Wesson Model 19 revolver from back when he was a cop. Though he’d gone against the protocol of leaving one chamber empty and another filled with a blank. He had five live bullets loaded in the chamber and ready to fire as he pointed it at the worker that denied him before.

“Formoterol. Now.” He demanded. Upon entering the pharmacy, he shot the only other worker and person in the building not to kill but to incapacitate him so he couldn’t call for help.

“Okay. Okay. Take it all. Please, don't kill me. Please. I’ll-I'll do anything you want.” The worker begged, holding his hands up. He wasn’t so smug now, was he?

In-ho took all of the medication you needed. “Thank you. You and your friend here...are helping to save my wife.”

He shot both men dead and left.

To make sure nobody would make a missing persons report or come looking for you when he inevitably kidnapped you from the hospital you were staying in and brought you to the island, he faked your death by doing something crazy like impersonating a doctor and drugging you with something that wouldn’t kill you, but make your heart rate so slow that it caused a Code Blue and set off the alarms, making it look like you were flatlining. He even forged legal documents making it look like you consented to a “Do Not Resuscitate” order so that medical staff wouldn’t accidentally kill you by shocking you or break your ribs from performing chest compressions. Once they disabled all the alarms and unhooked you from the IVs and monitors that were attached to your skin and moved you to the morgue, he kidnapped you and replaced your unconscious body with an unclaimed female corpse that was unrecognizable in the face and teeth but looked enough like you to pass by planting stuff on it so his family would false identify it as you after DNA tests matched with you. After whisking you away to the island to get you the treatments you needed to overcome your sickness, whenever you were awake, he smoothly lied to you to leave you oblivious and in the dark about where you really were and what was really going on, taking advantage of your confusion and disorientation and other side effects from your condition to gaslight you.

“In-ho...?”

“I'm here, darling. I brought you home,” he said, holding your hand.

The room you were in didn’t look familiar. It didn’t look like home. It looked more like a luxurious hotel room.

“I'm so tired.”

“I know. It'll all be over soon.”

“In-ho... I want you to let me go. Let me die,” you begged, cupping his face in your hands.

“Honey, you don't mean that. We can do this. A donor has been found. The surgery will work. I'll be there when you wake up. I'll be there.”

“Okay.” You nodded your head and he kissed you.

Just as you were about to be put under, you stopped him and who you assumed to be doctors standing nearby (though they were dressed rather strangely) from injecting you with the sedative or putting the mask with knockout gas over your nose and mouth by grabbing his hand. “In-ho, wait. My necklace. The one that you gave me on our first anniversary. I left it on the nightstand in my hospital room when I had to go in for scans. Did you get it for me? Please, dear, tell me you did.”

He hesitated, unsure if you were just stalling for the sake of stalling or not. He brought it with him. Of course he did. “I got it. I've got it,” he said, pulling it out of his pocket to show you.

“Can you put it on me? Please, honey. I know it’s silly, but it’d make me feel…less afraid.”

He complied with your wish, bending over you to put it around your neck, clasping it into place. You fiddled with it, the familiarity of the metal bringing you comfort under your fingers. Now that he was close enough, you put your other hand on his cheek, rubbing it as you ran your fingers through his hair. “In-ho. I love you. If I don’t make it off the table… Please don't blame yourself.”

“You’ll make it. I’ll see you soon.” He reassured you, giving you one last kiss. “I love you,” was one of the last things you heard. A few minutes later, you were unconscious.

It’d take months, possibly even years to even begin to get you back to where you were, though you’ve shown signs of improvement after undergoing treatment. You were often unconscious from the surgeries and operations during your pregnancy and he’d tell himself he wasn’t gaslighting you out of malice, but out of love. The less you knew, the safer you’d be. He’d go as far to make sure you didn’t find out that he keeps hidden cameras around his quarters and a tracker hidden in either a piece of jewelry he knows you always wear or possibly under your skin even, claiming it was part of your surgeries so you wouldn’t question the stitches or the healing scar. You don’t feel it so you don’t know it’s there. You spent most of your pregnancy on bedrest. He couldn’t drug or sedate you too much because of the risk to the baby’s health, but even when you were awake, he’d do his damnedest to keep you safe, healthy, and comfortable even while lying to you or expertly deflecting your questions. Where’s your cell phone? Deflect. Why can’t this Apple computer in his office connect to the internet? Deflect. When can you go home? Deflect. Where are you? Deflect. Even though the circumstances of your new living situation were unclear and left you unsettled, you were excited to give birth despite the somewhat shady doctors your husband brought to care for you. If he ever detected you trying to leave his quarters, an alarm beeped just loud enough for him to hear it, signaling to him to put his quarters on complete lockdown with a push of a button so you couldn’t wander off and he’d rush to check on you. He’d either sedate you again if he absolutely had to out of fear your lashing out at him would be a danger to yourself or the baby, or he’d otherwise distract or dissuade you from asking too many questions or wandering too far. If you asked questions, he’d tell you to think of it as a dream, that it isn’t a bad dream for you anyway since you’ll have your baby soon. When the time came for you to give birth, your husband was there with doctors that were hired for their discretion (or he’d just kill them afterwards) and you gave birth to a healthy baby and survived, though the birth was difficult and took a great toll on your body. That was in 2015 or 2016.

You thought you’d be able to go home eventually, but in reality, you’re still practically a prisoner on an unknown island. During the first couple years, you took care of your baby while your husband oversaw vulnerable people being driven to kill others or themselves out of desperation for blood money for the entertainment of bored rich people in sadistic death games. Whenever it was lights out for the players, he came back and gave you your much needed break, taking his turn to care for your baby while you rested. You’re not sure why you’re still here as you’re feeling much better, but your husband and doctors keep saying your condition isn’t stable yet, you’re not in the clear, a few more tests and treatments. It’s always something. He won’t let you leave. You can’t leave this place without his permission.

And even worse, when your child reached a certain age, maybe around three or four (old enough to walk and talk), he took them away from you, sent them to be raised and cared for by people he knew he could trust until the time was right for you to take them back. He couldn’t let your child grow up in this place and become old enough to have awareness of their surroundings or start asking questions. When children reach a certain age, they get curious. Too curious. He couldn’t risk that. And this is no place for a child anyway. They need proper socialization and a healthy environment to grow and learn. When you found out what he’d done, you yelled at him, screamed at him, hit him repeatedly. He took it all. Then you ignored him, gave him the silent treatment. He took that too. He’d understand if you never forgive him but he needs you to understand that he does all of this because he loves and cares about you and your child - his family - more than he does a bunch of strangers. He’ll kill however many he needs to if it means you both get to live. And that’s why when Thanos is talking shit while he’s undercover in the games, telling him to stop running his mouth and take care of his own damn kids, to save the lecture for his own children, he snaps and beats the shit out of him, nearly choking him to death in the middle of the dorms. But, unbeknownst to him, after your child was taken away from you, you became more proactive in discovering the truth and getting off this damn island. You weren’t just gonna lie down and blindly love and trust your husband anymore. You can play dual roles and keep secrets as well as he can. You know your husband would never kill you. He’s done everything to save you. And even if he does kill you for going behind his back, you’re not afraid of dying. Your resolve is strong, unwavering. You’ll either get off this damn island and get your child back or die trying, with or without your husband. It’ll be up to him what he wants to do, if he comes with you or not. You just have to bide your time and play your cards right.

9. You’re a player and while In-ho is undercover as player 001/Oh Young-il, you and he form some kind of connection and stick together during the games. You likely have a considerate age gap between you. He’s probably at least fifteen years older than you but despite that, you’re hot for each other. You have been ever since surviving the six legged relay race. You’re so thankful he and his team took pity on you and let you join and bonded with him in the dorms afterwards. He sticks by you during the Mingle game and saves your life by grabbing your wrist and running with you, keeping you close for every round so you’re always in a room with him, no matter how many people are needed. On the last round, he kills a man in ten seconds before your very eyes after he refuses to leave. After the game, he comes to you during lights out and asks if you want to go with him somewhere away from everybody else to have some “much needed alone time together”. You know, despite his use of euphemism or polite language, that he’s inviting you to have sex to blow off some steam and come down from the high that the combined stress of playing the latest game and left over adrenaline gave you.

You follow his lead when he knocks on the door and asks a guard to use the bathroom. Together you ditch the guard (unbeknownst to you, he used his authority as the Front Man and subtly signaled the guard to go away.) and he takes you back to the room where the Mingle game was played, now spotless from clean up. No blood or bodies anywhere. The lights are mostly off and the few that are on are low, making the lighting in the room look dark purple, almost black, with hints of red. He tells you to pick any door of your choosing. You pick a door that’s your favorite color and he grabs you by the hand or lifts you up to carry you bridal style or over his shoulder into the room, closing the door behind you. You barely pay attention to the sound of the lock clicking into place as In-ho/Young-il is instantly on you, his hands and mouth all over your body, touching and feeling everywhere he can before you even begin to take your clothes off. That comes soon enough as, finally alone, you have sex on the floor in the colored room, the light above reflecting off the painted walls and creating makeshift “mood lighting” as you meet his hot kisses and touches with equal fervor. The potential danger of being caught by the pink guards only further turns you on. Unbeknownst to you, there’s no danger at all since you’re having sex with the Front Man and Host of the games. You’d hate to admit it, but you thought he was so sexy when he was strangling that man to death. It almost turned you on when he didn’t break eye contact with you and you heard the player’s neck snap. While he’s thrusting in and out of you, you beg him to choke you. He asks if you’re sure, and you confirm your consent. He tells you to tap his shoulder or scratch down his back three times if you want him to let go. While he fucks you, he chokes you so hard that your vision begins to blur and you see stars as you struggle to breathe. He doesn’t apply enough pressure to kill you or knock you out, but it’s enough to make your orgasm that much sweeter of a high.

10. While In-ho is undercover as player 001/Oh Young-il, he becomes obsessed with you because you’re visibly pregnant and/or have a resemblance to his deceased wife somehow. Even if it’s just one thing like your smile, eyes, or personality. After his wife got sick and both she and their unborn child died, he was devastated at the loss of his family, believing he went through the games and won, but it was all for nothing as he got out only to find his family was already dead. He felt guilty for not spending time with his wife in the hospital and being there for her before she died. (“I should go and be with my wife at the hospital,” he said to Gi-hun.) He never really forgave himself for just abandoning her without a word. And with nothing to go back to in the outside world - no wife, no child, no job - he dedicated himself to the games as the Front Man. That’s why he snapped and beat the shit out of Thanos and nearly choked him to death after his insensitive comments about “save the lecture for your own damn kids”. He thought he lost his beloved wife and his baby forever, but seeing you makes him believe he can have both a wife and a child again.

He becomes immensely protective of you, so much so that it’s unnerving to the other players at times, possibly even you, but nobody would dare to say a thing to his face. He’s one of the most formidable players in the game. He kills several players in the games personally while telling you sweet and caring things when you’re given moments of respite during the games and when you’re back in the dorms after the games are over.

“When you get out of here, go see a doctor right away. You’ve been under a lot of stress. You need to get yourself checked out.”

He gives you his milk or shares his food with you, insisting on you taking it since you’re eating for two and need it more than he does. He lets you use his pillow or blanket during lights out. He’s always asking if you’re all right and cracking jokes to keep the mood light and make you smile despite the circumstances. He keeps you stuck to him during every game like velcro. During the six-legged race? Your arm is interlocked with his. During the Mingle game? He’s holding onto your arm or wrist so tightly when you run to gather enough players and get to a colored door in time that there’s no chance of other frantic players pushing you to the ground or separating you from him. When you need to go to the bathroom outside of hours and sneak out of bed, he’s awake and asks what you’re doing. When you sheepishly admit you need the bathroom, he’s there with you at the door demanding for you to be let out if the guards tell you no at first. Despite being a man, he’s in the women’s bathroom with you. You’re the only two people awake and using the bathroom, so who cares if he’s a man in the women’s bathroom? The guards definitely don’t care. (Because he’s their boss, but you don’t know that.) He’s leaning against the stall directly across from the one you go into or the sink and keeps you company, asking if you’re sick and if you need him to hold your hair back for you if you’re feeling nauseous when he notices you’ve been in there for a long time. If he hears you crying, he’s knocking on the stall before opening it and kneeling in front of you, immediately fretting over you, asking if it’s the baby and if you’re in any pain, are you in labor, is the baby coming? Then he’s holding you and comforting you when you admit you’re afraid. Same for if you have an emotional breakdown over not being allowed to go home after the vote doesn’t go the way you want it to. He’s there to hold you, stroke your hair and stomach (with your permission of course) and tell you you’re going to make it out of this and both you and your baby will be fine. You swear sometimes you hear him say “our” baby, or that he’s calling you pet names like darling, honey, and sweetheart, but he gaslights you and tells you that you must’ve misheard him whenever you call it out and ask him about it.

When he goes with the men to find the control room, you stay behind. While you’re not sure if you love him, you have grown to care for him and see him as a dear friend at least and are worried for him. After the game is over and he goes back to being the Front Man, the pink guards storm into the dorms, firing off two warning shots and ordering everyone to get down on the floor. The sight of the pink guards rushing forwards with their guns pointed and no sign of Young-il or any of the other players makes you fear for the worst. Curled up on your side on the floor, you panic when your water breaks at the exact moment you believe Young-il is dead. Other players might think you’ve peed your pants from fear, but you can feel the contractions already starting. Unbeknownst to you, the Front Man sees your water break on the cameras from the control room, the small puddle staining your sweatpants wet and forming on the floor under you as the women nearby try to comfort you. He orders some of the guards in the control room to escort you out of the dorm room and to his private quarters while the other pink guards are busy defusing the situation. He emphasizes to them to be gentle with you, meaning don’t walk too fast, make sure you don’t fall, and keep their guns pointed away from you at all times. You’re terrified when three or four pink guards approach you and two of them slowly lift you up by your arms and force you to follow them out of the dorms the second you get back on your feet. You’re the only player singled out and escorted away from the others. Your friends are yelling your name, asking the guards where they’re taking you, but they receive no answer. Once you’re in the hallways of many colorful stairs, they blindfold you so you can’t know where you’re going, making you more scared. Your arm is held the whole way to wherever it is you’re going. They don’t tell you anything or answer your questions. They only tell you when there are steps in front of you so you don’t trip and fall on them. But you think they’re holding onto you so you can’t run. You think for sure you’re going to be killed and your baby will be cut out of your dead body and sold to a black market along with your organs or something.

But when the blindfold is removed, you find yourself lying down on a plush bed in a very nice, almost luxurious room with the Front Man and who you think is a doctor of sorts. The Front Man orders the doctor to help you by giving you everything you need for a safe and healthy delivery. But while you’re given a clean and plain men’s t-shirt so you can change out of your ruined track suit, you’re unnerved that the Front Man won’t leave. He’s considerate enough to turn his back or let you change in his bathroom and doesn’t turn back around until you’re back in his bed with your lower half covered with the blankets and the men’s shirt, which is so big and long on you it’s like a nightgown almost. He stands either on your left or right side near your head so he can’t see between your legs. While a part of you is relieved you have that semblance of privacy, he just stands there, watching over you. And you can’t read his face since it’s covered by his black mask. And you can’t tell much emotion from his voice either. It unnerves you.

But the terror becomes confusion when he eventually asks if you need to hold his hand after watching you struggle through a few contractions despite the epidural you were given. What? He repeats the question. When you shakily say yes, he removes his black leather gloves to hold your hand in both of his, letting you squeeze as tightly as you can when the contractions are at their worst. Your strength is nothing compared to his so he barely feels it. His skin is so warm. This bed is warm too. Much warmer than the cot you were sleeping in. You hate to admit that it feels nice. He puts on some jazz music to help you relax. He tells you not to think and to just focus on the music, breathe, and push whenever the doctor tells you to. After who knows how many hours, you give one last push and hear a baby crying. Your baby. After the doctor cleans them up and does what needs to be done for aftercare for you including any stitches or disposing of the placenta, etc., the Front Man orders him to leave. Your baby is wrapped in a soft towel or sheet as a makeshift blanket and resting on your chest. For a moment, you’re too in awe of them to care about the Front Man or what’s happening around you.

But then you hear a soft click as he takes his mask off and reveals himself not as player 001, Oh Young-il - but Hwang In-ho, Captain and Host of the squid games following his predecessor’s death and, even more alarming, your husband and the father of your child. You can’t believe it. He joined Gi-hun's assault on the staff, dispatching several guards personally. He killed two players to effectively fake his death to resume his place amongst the staff. When you’re horrified and exclaim that all those players who went with him are dead because of him, he is quick to correct you that no, they’re all dead because of Gi-hun. Even worse for you, if the real father of your child is still alive, whether or not you have a relationship with him, he won’t be alive for much longer. Even if he’s in the outside world and not a part of the games, In-ho will still find a way to kill him discreetly and dispose of the body so he can have you and your child for himself. He effectively kidnaps you and keeps you and your baby captive in his quarters because he’s all kinds of fucked up after his wife and unborn child’s deaths. You thought the games made him so relentless, that the games changed him. What you don’t know is that this relentless drive to get what he wants was apparent even before becoming the Front Man, as there were many self-help books on achieving one's desires in his old apartment.

OR

If you’re not already pregnant when he meets you, he’d be determined to impregnate you and would go out of his way to seduce you through emotional and mental manipulation or bribes during downtime between the games. Even worse for you if it works and you sleep with him in a moment of clouded judgment due to your hormones and/or fragile mental and emotional state from the high stress of your near death experiences. Either in your bunk, a bathroom stall, the stairs, or inside one of the colored doors from the Mingle game. Whether or not you’re already pregnant, once you have sex with him, your fate is pretty much sealed. He’d be even more protective and possessive of you, as your consenting to have sex with him would affirm for him the delusion that you love him back and accept him as your husband and father of your child, whether or not he actually is the child’s father biologically.

Either way, it’d be like a Basement Wife trope but he keeps going back and forth between sweet and doting and cold and ruthless personalities so it’s like you’re dealing with a Jekyll and Hyde type situation while prisoner. He’d never hurt you, especially not while you’re in such a fragile condition. He doesn’t want to chain you to the bed or sedate you as it can’t be good for you or the baby, but he will if you persist in misbehaving and lashing out. Stress isn’t good for you or the baby. He has no fear about you harming him, he can easily overpower you without hurting you, but he won’t let you harm yourself or your baby in any way. He might strap a monitor on your wrist that you can’t take off because it has a very special lock only he has the key to. Kind of like a house arrest ankle monitor. But this monitor allows him to monitor your health, whereabouts, and call you if he’s away for any reason - like an Apple Watch. Either that or he’d implant a tracking chip under your skin somewhere on your body while you’re passed out from being sedated. If you wake up, he knows. If you get out of bed to get a glass of water, use the bathroom, take a shower, or otherwise move around his quarters, he knows. If you so much as get a goddamn paper cut from reading a book, he knows. He won’t let anything happen to you or your child. You should’ve known something was wrong with him when he strangled a man to death and broke his neck in front of you during the Mingle game just so you and he could be the only two people in the room needed to pass. He looked at you and you saw no remorse or horror in his eyes. Only pride at protecting you.

11. You’re pregnant during the games and go into labor at an inopportune moment, possibly during the games or during the “special game” of the lights out free for all when everybody was murdering each other. If it’s the special game, he’d hide under the bed on the bottom level with you and his “friends”, his arms wrapped around you and his body almost on top of yours like a human shield. His hand would clamp over your mouth to keep you quiet if you cried out from seeing a player get murdered right in front of your eyes. You’d cry out again and that’s when you’d both feel wetness coming from your sweatpants and you both know it’s not pee. However it happens, In-ho/Young-il is so fiercely protective of you, having a soft spot for you ever since you revealed you were pregnant when you approached him and his team for the six-legged race and since then giving you special treatment that you thought was just him being nice, like giving you extra food and milk or letting you use his pillow and blanket so you’d be more comfortable during lights out.

When pink guards burst in and the players enact their plan to steal the guards’ guns and infiltrate the control room to capture the Front Man, In-ho makes sure you stay down and out of the rain of fire as he shoots many pink guards dead. When enough guards are dead and the others have retreated, he gets ready to head out with Gi-hun and his team. He waits until everyone else in line is ahead of him before he helps you up and takes you out of the room with him, telling you that you can’t stay in the dorms and he knows a place where you’ll be safe to deliver your baby. While the others are being led by the pink guard they took hostage and aren’t looking at him and you at the very back of the line, he takes you down a different hallway. You’re confused as it appears to be a dead end. He looks up towards a camera and nods. You don’t have time to react or understand what’s happening when the wall behind you opens up and a couple of pink guards blindfold you and grab hold of you from behind, pulling you away as you scream Young-il’s name for help. The others are too far away and can’t hear you over the sounds of their own yelling and all the gunfire. The last thing you hear is gunfire and Young-il’s voice telling you to trust him and that you’re going to be fine before the wall slides shut again, cutting you off from him and everyone else. You have no choice but to go wherever the guards are leading you and hope you and your baby will be okay along with Young-il. That’s why when after In-ho shoots players 047 and 015 in the back, he tells the control room to start wrapping things up. The sooner Gi-hun’s failed attempt at playing the hero ends, the sooner he can drop the facade of being Young-il and be at your side while you give birth in his private quarters.

OR

In-ho arranges for you to be exempt from the game so you can be taken away and brought to a medical bay or his personal quarters quietly without the other players putting up too much of a fuss since you can’t compete while in labor. It wouldn’t be fair and the games are all about fairness, or so he likes to preach. (Just like how he exempted Mi-nyeo from the marbles game when nobody wanted to pair up with her.) Could be part of my previous ideas of you being pregnant or could be its own separate thing.

12. You’re his wife and you’re very sick with acute cirrhosis and need a liver transplant. (Or any other disease and treatment of your choosing.) But when you’re going through the tests, you find out you’re pregnant.

"What-what are you saying?" In-ho gasps out as panic and wishful thinking begin to battle in his mind.

You brush your hand against his and smile with teary eyes. "The doctor is saying I'm pregnant, In-ho. We're going to have a baby."

You’re happy about this. He can’t believe it. Under different circumstances, sure. He could understand you being happy then. But now? With you so sick? Being pregnant now is far too dangerous. Even the doctor suggests a termination, but you won’t listen. You tell your husband you’ll give birth even if it kills you. You’re stubborn. Your husband has never been able to change your mind about anything. But in the following weeks, you’re struggling to find a donor and your condition is getting worse. He borrows as much money as he can, but it still isn’t enough. Then one of his oldest vendors hears about the situation and offers to help. So he borrows money from them. But people see it as a bribe and he gets fired from his job. He had devoted his entire youth to it. He’s desperate. Desperate enough to do something terrible. An irrevocable betrayal.

The first scare is...relatively simple, in retrospect. That night, In-ho comes home to you, perfect and lovely, preparing a meal meant to be shared. He doesn’t have much time to stay before he has to leave for “work” once more, but just seeing you in your shared dingy little kitchen creating something with him in mind makes his heart skip a beat in his chest. It’s a wonderfully simple moment the two of you spend together, holding hands like lovestruck teenagers across the table while you eat. As he’s preparing to depart, you sit by the window and sip at a glass of your favorite non-alcoholic beverage, illuminated by the lights of the city. In-ho is certain he's never seen you more beautiful. You take another sip of your drink before a strange expression crosses your features. It’s mostly an unreadable expression, but there’s the undercurrent of something...sad. It’s something In-ho has never really seen before, and it makes the first tendrils of anxiety curl in his stomach.

"Darling? Is something wrong?" he asks, walking over to where you sit.

"No, no, not at all," you assure him. When you look up at him, the twinge of sadness is already gone. "I just had...a strange thought, that's all. I'm being silly." You reach over and place your hand on his cheek. He can’t help but nuzzle into the simple touch and press a kiss to your soft palm. "Go," you say comfortingly. "Work hard, do good."

In-ho manages a smile and places his hand over yours for a lingering moment before pulling away. "I’ll see you soon, my love."

The two of you share a smile before he turns to go. He’s halfway to the door when he hears your voice again. And what you say makes his blood run cold. To you, it’s something so innocent, so innocuous. But In-ho almost drops what he’s holding. Just from that one sentence, he can tell you’re worsening. He scrambles to remember when your last injection was, and his mind is already cataloguing the work he will need to do to prepare your next one. He curses himself internally for letting it go so long, for putting you in this position. You need your medicine and he’s going to get it for you.

In-ho almost forgets about that incident by the time something else happens.

You place his hand over your stomach, encouraging him to splay his fingers out as if you’re expecting something to happen from his touch. "Do you feel anything? Anything out of the ordinary?"

"Not at all." He tilts his head at you with confusion and a hint of worry. "Why? Are you feeling all right, is everything okay, darling?"

"No, In-ho, everything is fine!" You still hold his hand over your stomach, gently stroking over the skin on the back of it with your thumb to reassure him. "I feel great. You...didn't notice anything?"

He shakes his head, brows furrowed but relishing in the feel of your soft skin.

"Oh," you say with an edge of...disappointment? "I guess it must be too early, then. I thought I felt movement. Must’ve been phantom kicks.” The smile on your features steadily grows nevertheless.

His throat tightens and he feels the beginnings of hot tears prick behind his eyes, so he has to look away from you. All he can hear is the blood rushing through his ears, your words falling away somewhere behind him. Imagining you pregnant was one thing. It gave him a private thrill, the idea of having a family. With you. It was a beautiful fantasy he kept close to his heart, but he knows now that you’re getting further along, that you won’t survive childbirth even if you do manage to carry to term. In the forefront of his mind, he knows that his fantasies of having a child with you has to remain exactly that. Fantasies. At least until your disease is cured or, if it can’t be, then at the very least, he can get you treatment to pull you out of danger and make you healthy again. At a different time, perhaps, your pregnancy would be a joyous moment. How exuberant he would be were things different, to prepare to bring new life into the world. How beautiful you would look, growing with his child, your body undergoing glorious metamorphosis. His child.

But that is not the reality he can live in while you’re still sick. You’re in danger, a danger he helped perpetuate. The thought makes In-ho shudder almost violently. There is no way to guarantee your survival if you go through with this pregnancy, or even the child's survival if you do bring him or her into this world. The thought of you suffering hours of labor, of dying…only for your baby to die after a few feeble hours of breathing in the NICU… That shakes him down to his core, makes him sick to his stomach. It would be better, merciful even, to not introduce a child to this world at this time. It breaks In-ho’s heart to realize, but worse, he’ll have to break yours, too. He can’t just tell you why there’s so much danger in this joy. He tried that when the doctors first gave you the news and advised you to terminate. You wouldn’t listen to him then and it resulted in an argument that he worried would only add too much stress onto you. He pretended to acquiesce to you, telling you that you’re right and together you’ll find a way, you will. There's always hope. As long as you're alive, there's hope, right? And you told him yes. There's hope. And that was the end of the argument. If he brings it up again, what will you think? You definitely won’t change your mind now. Talking to you will get him nowhere. He knows that. He has to do what he has to do.

It isn’t hard to get the pill. It’s a simple thing, a beige color, unassuming overall. Yet, it seems to have the weight of a brick in In-ho’s coat pocket. Since your pregnancy reveal, you had managed to find books on prenatal care and baby names and were going through them religiously. It’s...painful for In-ho to reconcile your eagerness, your pure unadulterated excitement, with what he’s about to do. It’s necessary, he knows that, and he hopes you will understand that. Eventually. He trudges into the house and sure enough, there you are sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through the pages of one of your new baby name books with a highlighter. When you hear the door close, you smile up at In-ho and go to stand to greet him.

"Stay seated, darling, it's fine," he assures you, walking over and kissing your temple.

You giggle at him. "In-ho, I'm only three months along at most, I won't overexert myself by getting up to welcome my wonderful husband home."

"I know, I know." He plants another kiss on your forehead before he walks into the kitchen. "Hungry, my love?"

"I can make dinner, you've been working so hard lately. All that overtime at the precinct."

"Just tonight, honey. Let me do this for you. For...both of you."

Maybe it’s an underhanded manipulation tactic, but it works. You smile with a dreamy look in your eyes, turning back to your book.

In-ho isn’t much of a cook, but he grabbed a few fresh fruits and vegetables the last time he went out for groceries, purposefully so. With a blender he hasn't touched in years, he’s able to whip up a basic green smoothie. He hesitates when he reaches for the pill in his pocket. In that moment, he hears something from behind him: you begin humming to yourself. When he listens closer, he realizes the song is an easily recognizable lullaby. Nausea swirls in his gut and he has to fight the urge to look back at you. If he looks, he won’t be able to go through with it. He crushes the pill into powder and sprinkles it into the mixture, stirring it with a spoon before he can think about it anymore. It’s blended so much that you won’t feel or taste it at all. You won’t notice. When it’s finished, In-ho pushes a glass towards you and is greeted with a curious smile.

"Trying to keep me strong and healthy for the baby?" you tease. You smile warmly. "Thank you, honey. It looks great." You reach out and start to drink without hesitation.

It’s over. In-ho feels like he can breathe again, at least for the moment.

It doesn’t last long.

In-ho goes away to “work”, hoping you’ll be asleep while the pill works. He’s ready to be there for you once he returns, to be with you in any grief you feel.

The house is eerily silent and dark when he returns. In-ho climbs the stairs, eager to slip into bed with you for just a few moments of fitful rest. Just some time to be with you, before he has to face your hurt. The bedroom is empty when he walks in. The bedsheets on your side are haphazardly tossed aside, and you’re nowhere to be seen. He walks over and flips on the nightstand light, and notices out of the corner of his eye a discoloration in the sheets. A large stain rests in the middle of the bed, right where you would be lying, and when In-ho touches it, the tips of his fingers come back red. That’s when he notices the door to the master bathroom is closed, and a bit of light shines from underneath. If he focuses on the silence of the room, he can hear...something, from the other side. He makes his way over, slowly, a death march to the door. He reaches up to knock, but stops when he hears the faint sound again. Tiny gasps, hiccups. Sniffling. Muffled sobs. His heart shatters all over again.

"Darling?" He eventually calls, giving the door a strong but soft knock. "Darling, I'm coming in."

"In-ho?" You gasp out, your voice heavy with tears. "In-ho, no, please, don't-" you dissolve into more pronounced sobs, and In-ho hears something clatter to the floor.

"My love, please let me-"

"I said no!"

He freezes. He has never once heard you like this, the agonized sharpness turned to venom in your words. Not even when you were arguing with him in the doctor’s office over whether to terminate your pregnancy or not. He doesn’t try to knock or speak again, but he cannot bring his feet to drag his body from the door. He ends up sitting with his back against the door, listening to you cry. Alone. He doesn’t get any rest that night. Eventually, In-ho has to regretfully rise. Shady characters are in need of him once again and, in exchange, they’ll give him money he so desperately needs. It’s through such shady characters he was able to procure the medications that you needed so far. How he was able to get the pill to terminate your pregnancy. As he gathers his coat to go, he hears the door creak open, and turns to look at you. It’s like seeing a ghost. You’re pale, eyes red and ringed with dark circles, and even the way you hold yourself is as if you’re being dragged down to the earth. There’s a moment where the two of you simply exist in the same space. In-ho watches your features for even the most minuscule change, and it feels like hours pass as he waits. Eventually, you sigh in an attempt to speak, but your voice shakes with even the simple release of breath. In-ho takes a single step forward and waits again. This time, you meet him halfway, but keep your eyes firmly down and away from his own. Is it shame that motivates you to divert your gaze? The shame that rightfully only he should be feeling? The shame that is, in fact, burning in his core as he observes how much grief is weighing you down? You make an attempt to speak again, but just shake your head. You press your eyes closed to keep from outright sobbing but still stray tears escape. In-ho reaches up and brushes them away, letting his knuckles brush against your cheeks. The contact of his skin against yours shatters the tension and you walk forward into his arms, burying your face against his chest. He holds you close, knowing he’s wholly undeserving of the beautiful creature that is his wife seeking his arms for comfort. He allows himself a single tear that falls into your hair, not any more than that. How dare he compare his grief to yours, how dare he try and appropriate your sorrow? He can almost hear your voice in his head: How dare you? How dare you? Somehow, the embrace ends and he’s helping you into bed after stripping the bloodied sheets and putting on fresh ones. He pulls the blankets around your unmoving form, tucking you in and making sure you’re warm enough.

"I have to go," he whispers regretfully, not even sure if you’ll respond.

And you don’t. You don’t even look at him but, before he leaves, he kisses your lips and your hairline then steals a glance back at you. Your eyes fall closed, and silent tears are streaming down your cheeks as you cry yourself back to sleep.

But it doesn’t end there. You’re hospitalized shortly after and he’s driven to compete in the squid games after being recruited. The games are his last hope. He really needs that money even if it’s blood money. He needs that money to save you since he couldn’t save both you and your child. He could only save one. He wants to return home to you so he can get you the operation and medication you need to ensure you could one day have a healthy and safe pregnancy. He knows you still want a child despite the traumatic loss you suffered. You’ll never know what he did. After he won, you’re still in the hospital, waiting for him. As part of his reward for winning, a donor is found for you on top of the cash prize of 45.6 billion won. But he can’t go back to his old life after all the bridges that have been burned behind him. But he wants - no, needs to keep you. If there’s anyone or anything from his old life he will never let go of, it’s you. Bound by his duties as the Front Man for the games and his marriage vows to you, he has no other choice but to go undercover as a doctor and create a diversion to kidnap you from the hospital so he can whisk you away to an unknown and private island where you can receive the best medical attention for your condition. Somehow, police have already been notified of his activity and what he plans to do.

“He’s in the building, posing as a doctor. He’s armed and has already killed five people. Evacuation is underway. We have to go,” an attending physician says.

“No. An evacuation is exactly what he wants. The staff bailed when the alarms went off. This is a deliberate diversion to get everybody out and away from her. He’s here for her. We can't leave her alone in her room. She’ll die if we leave her alone here or if he takes her,” your personal doctor insists.

“So we take her with us. Come on. Careful.”

“Thank you,” you say weakly as your doctor helps you out of bed and into a wheelchair.

You don’t get very far when you’re stopped by your husband standing in the doorway to the ward you’re kept in, dressed in black scrubs, black gloves, and a medical face mask, just like the police said he’d be. He’s holding a Heckler & Koch MP5A3 sub-machine gun that’s strapped over his shoulder and across his body. “Ah... I'll take it from here.”

“In-ho… In-ho, listen to me. We're trying to help her.”

“You're killing her.”

“No. No, In-ho.”

“In-ho...” you rasp, your voice and body incredibly weak from your disease. Your eyes water when you look at him. Despite his black attire, you can still see the blood on him and you know it’s not his. You’re terrified.

“I understand why you're doing this,” your doctor tries to sympathize.

“I'm saving her life.”

“At the cost of how many other lives?”

“Too many to turn back now. As soon as I've done what I need to do, I'll give myself up. But now we have to leave.”

“In-ho, listen to me. I'm her doctor. I know her history. I’ve known her her entire adult life. If we move her now, she might die.”

“Her doctor. Good. You're coming with us to push the wheelchair. Let's go.”

“No. No way!” The attending physician tries to stop this from happening.

“I'm going. She's my patient,” your doctor insists.

“I can't let you do that. I'll go.”

“It's not your call. She needs me.”

“I'm not gonna hurt her. I don't want to hurt anyone, unless I have to.” Your husband insists.

“I'm going.”

“In-ho, please...don't do this. Please, she’s pregnant.” Pregnant just like I was, you want to say, but you don’t have the strength. Your voice shakes like a rattle as you struggle to breathe while you beg for him to not do this, to leave your doctor out of it, trying to get through to him, to get him to see reason.

“Honey, don't worry. It's all under control.”

“Help...” you beg, your body already feeling worse.

“We have to go. Now.”

You sob when you hear bullets go off, your husband having shot dead the attending physician left behind. He can’t afford to leave any extra witnesses.

“In-ho, please think about this. How will you take care of her if you're in prison?” Your doctor asks as she follows behind him and pushes your wheelchair.

“I won't. You will. The city will. It's the law. As long as she's legally alive, she's a ward of the city and the city has to keep her alive and safe.”

“So I shall undergo countless operations and spend days or weeks in medically-induced comas only to wake up one day with you in prison or dead? A life alone isn't one that I want. There must be another way. Please, In-ho,” you beg him again to reconsider, but he doesn’t listen.

Holding your doctor at gunpoint in her car, he gives her directions and orders her to drive exactly where he tells her to go. You reach docks where a speedboat is waiting for you with masked and armed guards on board. He orders your doctor out of the car and to board the boat at gunpoint, then carefully lifts you into his arms bridal style and carries you onto the boat himself. You’re unconscious for most of the voyage, unable to bear the stress of the situation anymore, though it doesn’t take too long to get to your destination. Against your will, you’re taken to the island. You’re given the surgeries you need, the treatments and medications you need, etc. but despite the success of your operations and treatments, recovery still takes months. Most of it is spent on bedrest and In-ho is still hovering over you whenever he returns to your shared personal quarters, asking both you and your doctor how you’re faring, if you’re eating well and sleeping well, etc. as he comes to your bedside and rests his hand on your head to pet your hair and rub your cheek. You feel guilty that your doctor has been held captive alongside you all these months, kept by your side to attend your every need whenever In-ho is called away and can’t do it himself. You’re terrified of what might happen to her if you were to suddenly take a turn for the worst. It’s not rational, but you have a horrible sinking feeling in your gut that if anything involving you were to go wrong, In-ho would blame her, even if it’s something out of her control. And that he’d kill her if you were to die under her watch.

One day, when you’re alone, you confess to your doctor that she may be able to escape.

“I heard In-ho talking when he thought I was asleep. There’s speedboats and oxygen tanks docked on the coast of the island not far from here. If you hurry, you can take one and make it out before he gets back,” you plead to her.

“I'm not leaving you,” she insists, holding your hand to comfort you.

“This must be very stressful for you and your baby. And you’re almost due.”

“We're fine.”

“Could I have some water?” You ask instead, and she walks away to grab a glass and fill it with water from the sink. She hands it to you. “Thank you. You’ve heard him all these months. He's not a bad man at heart. You’ll get out of here alive, I promise. I’ll talk to In-ho. I’ll do everything in my power to make it so. If I’m not standing on the shoreline and waving you off as I watch you board a boat headed for home, then I’m not breathing at all.”

“Don’t talk like that. You’re going to be fine. The surgeries have been successes so far and your body has accepted the new organ with minimal issues. There have been no signs of rejection.”

“When you’re sent home, you have to tell them that he’s not a bad man. That he only wanted to save me because he loves me. Please.”

“I will.”

“And please tell them that I'm very sorry for my part in this. I saw the man that he was becoming and I did nothing. Because I loved him. You know what that's like, don't you?”

“I do.”

“Thank you. You've been very kind. Can you…would you mind if I ask… Have you picked out any names for your baby?”

You’re desperate to talk about something else, to think about something else. Something happy for her even if it’s bittersweet for you. You need a distraction from your current predicament. When she tells you about the baby’s gender (if she knows it) and the names she likes and has been considering, you smile and tell her about the names you highlighted in the baby name book you had at home. You’re not sure if you would’ve wanted to know the gender or be surprised. You talk about the dreams for the future you once had, whether you wanted your first to be a boy or girl, if you had a preference or not, etc.

During your recovery, your husband still acts as the Front Man for subsequent annual games and you’re kept in the dark. He’s in deeper than he was when he won the games. He’s now taken to arranging the games and acting as the Host following the original mastermind's death. He has continuously run the games for several years. It’s now 2024. Your doctor was set free and sent back home before her due date after all the precautions were taken to ensure she couldn’t find or disclose the location of the island, including having her being closely monitored by the pink guards, ready to shoot her dead and dispose of her body if she ever spoke out. But she’s kept quiet and gone along with the story that you and In-ho are dead, because of you. Because of you, she’s still alive and got to have her baby. And you? You’re still on the island. You understand that recovery for your condition could sometimes take more than a year, but you’ve been here nearly ten years. You can’t leave without his permission. You’ve tried more than once. Rather than tell you there’s no life for you to go back to since the world thinks you’re both dead, he keeps you here for so long by lying to you over and over and over. If he told you the truth, how could he admit to any of it without losing you? It’s his duty to protect you, the love of his life. Even if it’s painful. This relentless drive to get what he wants was apparent even before becoming the Front Man, as there were many self-help books on achieving one's desires in his old apartment.

But disruptions to his facilitation of the 36th iteration of the games have forced his hand to resort toward more drastic measures. As retaliation for Gi-hun's continued defiance against him for three years, he repeatedly tries to break him by forcing him to participate in the game. He joins the games specifically to break Gi-hun's spirit, and intentionally works his way into his inner circle, with no indication that he truly sees him as a friend, all to successfully sabotage his efforts to bring the game down by force. When Gi-hun's rebellion is successfully suppressed, the Front Man spares his life while personally ordering the execution of Jung-bae in front of him and telling him it’s the consequence of trying to play the hero. At the same time he’s undercover as a player, he’s still fulfilling his duties as your husband through proxy, having the pink guards give you whatever you need and keeping an eye on you so you don’t learn too much. He’s hidden the remote control he uses to watch the games on the big screen so you won’t know. But what if you’re stronger, smarter, and more resilient than you let on and manage to gather very valuable information by eavesdropping on In-ho’s conversations by feigning being asleep whenever he checks on you, sneaking away and stealthing around the building, etc., all to slowly discover the horrific truth your husband so desperately has kept hidden from you for the last ten years?

13. Like above with The Recruiter, a scenario very much like the Korean thriller movie “Addicted”. You’re the long time girlfriend of Jun-ho and get married. While he and In-ho are very different as people, and the only thing they really have in common is that they’re both cops, they are very close despite only being stepbrothers. You’ve also been very close to In-ho, though you always thought of your relationship as strictly friendly due to him being your brother-in-law and himself having a wife that you believe he loves. You’re there for In-ho and his wife when she gets sick and she views you as a sister not just because of your relation as sister-in-laws but because you’re always there to support her and do what you can to care for her and comfort her, from little things to big things, especially whenever In-ho is away due to his job. He and his wife can always count on you. You visit her more in the hospital than her own husband does. You’re the only other person besides In-ho to learn of her pregnancy and when she confides in you about it, she swears you to secrecy in case the worst happens. She tells you that in case she dies, she doesn’t want Jun-ho or his parents to know and feel even worse. In-ho tries to get you to talk to his wife, to try to convince her to change her mind and terminate the pregnancy, but she’s stubborn and won’t listen to anyone, not even you, despite your pleads that In-ho is only worried for her health and she can always try again after she’s better. Sometime in 2015, In-ho goes missing for a week. Neither you, Jun-ho, or his wife can get a hold of him. You’re all worried. You were always concerned for his safety while on the job and even his wife asked him not to be away from home so much anymore, but he’s just as stubborn as she was. You can understand that he needed more money to help her, but you grew concerned that he was putting himself at risk. And when she worsens and later succumbs to her acute cirrhosis, you’re devastated. Even more so when In-ho returns home and you have to break the news to him. You’re there for In-ho, taking him through the worst of his grief. In subsequent years, he asks you to go with him when he visits his wife’s grave on her death day to bring her fresh flowers, etc.

But then he goes missing again. For real this time.

Your husband becomes so obsessed with finding In-ho that he neglects you. You don’t divorce, but your marriage is deteriorating and while a part of you still loves him, the spark is slowly flickering out. You feel less like a wife and more like a single woman as time goes on. With a heavy heart, you carry on with your life and try to move on and find ways to be happy despite all the loss you’ve suffered. But your depression worsens when your husband stops coming home and stops answering your calls. It’s like he’s also vanished into thin air, exactly like In-ho. You can barely stand to be in your house anymore and often spend time outside or in hotels. One night, you have to hail a taxi when your car breaks down. The speeding taxi crashes into a black van, and while the driver is seriously injured, possibly even killed on impact, you’re only knocked unconscious with minor injuries.

Unbeknownst to you, this is a deliberate and orchestrated car crash, part of a plan to kidnap you and bring you to an unknown island. Under the Front Man’s orders, you’re sedated during the whole transportation process. You later wake up in an unfamiliar room, strapped down to a bed. You freak out, but freeze in shock when In-ho enters the room and comes to your bedside. He looks older, which is to be expected since you haven’t seen him in over five years, but it’s definitely him. He calms you down from your lashing out and panic attack, explaining the situation in a way that’ll keep you in the dark about what’s really going on but also serve his ulterior motives for why he brought you here. He takes care of you while you recover from the minor injuries you suffered in the collision, nothing major besides a concussion and a minor head wound and other scrapes and bruises. He tells you a fabricated but believable story about why he went missing, which includes that Jun-ho is dead, that he was shot and fell into the sea while on a job. To “prove it” he shows you doctored but eerily convincing confidential police files and death records from when that random body was found with Jun-ho’s ID on him. It was so damaged it was unrecognizable in pictures. With evidence in front of you, you have no choice but to believe In-ho and everything he tells you. Still, you’re devastated by this revelation. But he swears to take you through the worst of your grief, just like you did for him when his wife was sick and died.

Years go by of you living on the island, still kept in the dark. Could be through the use of drugs to make you disoriented and confused and blurring that edge of reality, gaslighting, and other manipulation tactics. When he does take you outside his private quarters to get some fresh air, it’s always brief and he stealthily knocks you out so you don’t get a full grasp of where you really are. You never know how you got there or how you got back. It’s so subtle you hardly notice and think you just fell asleep. You and In-ho eventually share a slow, emotional night together and have sex after the tearful revelation that you’ve fallen in love. You didn’t confess to him your feelings sooner because you felt so guilty due to being married to his brother even if he’s dead and you’re a widow now, and because In-ho’s wife was like your best friend. You felt awful for “stealing” her husband even though she died and he’s a widower who suffered the same loss you did. He helps you to overcome that guilt and you start to live life together as a happy and loving couple, despite the strange and unusual circumstances. In time, you become pregnant with In-ho’s child. One day you’re not feeling well, so you decide to go back to your private quarters to get some rest after he takes you outside for fresh air. While you’re there, a package addressed to In-ho arrives. You open it and find a necklace which you remember In-ho had given to his wife. You read the accompanying note from her, saying that she cannot wear this necklace anymore as it wasn’t meant for her and she cannot understand In-ho’s crazy love for you.

Frantic, you snoop around the other doors and find an underground chamber. You dig through In-ho’s secret workroom and find a number of hidden photos of yourself that were taken by him. You realize that In-ho had loved you before you married his brother and before he married his wife. You also find a notebook that In-ho wrote about loving you and being happy because he is able to watch you and live with you through his brother, Jun-ho. Through these secret documents, you discover your husband is possibly alive, having only been shot in the shoulder by In-ho himself and fallen into the sea. He lied to you just so that he could have you to himself. You were talking about getting married because you’re so in love and you thought it’s what Jun-ho and In-ho’s wife would want, at least for the sake of your unborn child. You were so happy mere hours ago and now, you’re crying sorrowfully. You don’t know what to do with the new information you’ve uncovered. Luckily, through some miracle, you’re not caught by In-ho. You put back everything exactly the way you found it as you’ve spent enough time in his personal office at home and remembered how he organizes his things, even down to which direction he sets down the phone receiver.

Do you take him aside and ask him various questions about his wife and where you are and when you can go home? Every time you tried in the past, he’d change the subject after giving you non-definite answers. Do you continue to pretend that Jun-ho is dead and you’ve moved on despite knowing the truth? You love In-ho and you know he loves you but this…this is much more than you could’ve ever imagined. You couldn’t have ever expected this. It’s been revealed that In-ho loved you even before Jun-ho, and had for the entire time you were with his brother. In-ho also confessed in a secret letter to Jun-ho that he’d never send that he made use of all of yours and his brother's secrets to "transform" himself into the perfect man for you. He tells his brother that you will forever love him as your husband. He apologizes and asks his brother never to forgive him for his deeds.

14. In-ho’s wife managed to successfully give birth to a healthy baby girl despite dying in the process. That baby girl is you, born sometime in 2015. When In-ho returned home and went to the hospital his wife was staying in after winning the 28th annual squid games, he received the bittersweet news that his wife was dead, having died in childbirth, but that you, his baby daughter, was alive and would be fine. You were either being kept in the hospital still or staying with Jun-ho and his parents. When he saw you and held you for the first time, he almost didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to set you down or let you out of his sight. He gave you the name his wife picked. It’s now 2024 and you’re eight or nine years old. What would your life be like? Would In-ho take you with him to the island from infancy to keep you safe and under his watchful eye while he acts as Front Man/Host for the squid games because you’re the last living piece of his wife that he has and he doesn’t want to ever lose you or miss out on any milestone in your life? What would it be like, effectively being kept prisoner on the island but kept in the dark and oblivious about what he does? Having no real friends to play with except maybe the Pink Guards who are under strict orders to play with you or keep an eye on you? Or would he leave you to be raised by his parents and Jun-ho? Or would he keep your existence secret from Jun-ho and his parents and come up with a secret third option that entails you having a normal-ish life with other “family” of his that he personally arranged, but he visits you or sends you messages on a very special encrypted phone or through the mail through mysterious envelopes without return addresses on them whenever he can, even if it’s at the most random of times? Would you know he’s your father from the beginning or would you learn this fact later in life?

OR

For a darker and more fucked up version: What if Jun-hee isn’t the first heavily pregnant player to compete in the games? Sometime during his years working as the Front Man and overseeing the games, he kept a close eye on a heavily pregnant contestant. After she was shot and killed for failing a game (the guard responsible making sure to avoid her stomach and shoot her in the head), her body was quickly loaded up into a box and taken away. The guards working in the morgue only had about ten minutes if they wanted to save the baby growing inside her. And they were under clear and strict orders by The Front Man to do so. A post-mortem c-section was performed and, when they cut her open, they pulled out a crying and screaming baby girl. The baby was cleaned up and checked by the doctor stationed on the island, then wrapped in a blanket and handed over to the Front Man per his orders/request. And that’s how you came to be his daughter. He’s your father now. And as far as you’ll ever know, he’s your biological father who solely raised you after your mother, his wife, died in childbirth from complications of acute cirrhosis of the liver.

15. Being in a poly relationship with the Front Man and The Recruiter would include? I don’t know any specific plot ideas exactly or how you got to be their personal whore/toy, but just imagine being a sugar baby or lover to both of these men that are two different flavors of DILF. You’re given everything from clothes, lingerie, and jewelry to a car and a house, as well as all the money you could ever need to pay for whatever it is you need - college tuition, medical bills, etc., even if it’s not for you but for one of your loved ones. In exchange, you’re on call for whenever either or both of them are in need of you and your services. You do whatever they ask of you, no matter what it is. Doesn’t matter what time it is, you go to them whenever they call. (Or maybe The Recruiter would go so far as to having a key to your house and letting himself in through the door or through a window, without giving you prior warning he’s coming. He comes whenever he feels like it. Could be any time of the day. And if you’re not home when he gets there, he’ll call you and tell you to get your cute ass home. Now. Then he’ll make himself comfortable in your house while he’s waiting for you. But you know that the longer you make him wait, the worse your punishment will be. Maybe a stipulation to having the house is leaving the doors and windows unlocked. If it’s late at night, he’d just sneak into your bedroom while you’re asleep and rouse you awake by going down on you or something. Classic Somnophilia.)

You either drive to them yourself or a car and/or a boat is waiting for you to be picked up. Imagine being squeezed in between these men like a sandwich or being in an Eiffel Tower with them, whether or not either or both of them are covered in blood from shooting players. (They wouldn’t care if you were on your monthly cycle. If anything, your blood would turn them on even more.) Imagine getting fucked on the hood of or inside the white limousine. Imagine them taking turns to watch while the other one fucks you. Imagine them turning fucking you into all kinds of thrilling and borderline dangerous sex games along the same vein of the actual squid games. Like they tell you do something under a time limit and if you fail and the timer runs out, they won’t kill you, but they’ll punish you sexually. And sometimes their punishments are so intense they make you wish you were dead because being denied your orgasms over and over and over is a special kind of torture and the coiling in your gut from your building orgasm that’s unable to be released is almost unbearable. What if you’ve been at this “job” so long that it gets to a point where In-ho wants to give you a “raise” and get you pregnant because he wants a child after the death of his wife and their unborn child and he may or may not have a pregnancy kink?

That is all for now. Thank you for listening to my brainrot.

[moonlightcycle571]

My Take On Evil Captain Marvel / Shazam / Shazamily

In an AU where all the heroes are villains, and all the villains are heroes, I like to think Captain Marvel is like the Poison Ivy but for the Magical Community.

So we all know Captain Marvel is the Champion of Magic, and as such he has duties, be it a hero or a villain. Now picture this:

Homeless Billy Batson, fresh out of being struck by a Magic Lighting, gets taken in by the magical community (be it the fae, a witches coven, magical creatures, or smt). He develops a love for the mystic realm and is thus more active as Champion. They have shown more love and kindness than any human ever has, and eventually sees himself as a magical being / well of magic more than he sees himself as human.

But then, tragedy, and he sees people hunting down members of his beloved community for the sole reason that they have magic. They see creatures under HIS domaine being captured and sold in the black market. He sees butchered remains and fur of his friends being hung as trophies.

So seeing as that there are NO magical protection laws, and knows deep down that Adults Cannot Be Trusted (if his time on the streets taught him anything, it’s that), he takes matters into his own hands.

He hunts the hunters for fun. He rips apart ANYONE who DARES hurt those under his protection. He destroys countries who normalises the destruction of the mystic. He sends plagues and lighting. Those so called ‘Heroes’ who try to stop him aren’t any better, for they stop him from doing his Duty as The Champion.

He gets noticed by a group of individuals who wish to recruit him (evil JL). He joins, not because he actually cares about their goals, but they promised to leave anything magic alone, and even help him take down his adversaries. Morality is something he has long given up on.

The Gods don’t care either. From their point of view, humanity has long forsaken them, and makes a point to destroy what they have created. Hecate is especially supportive, she created most of the magical creatures, of course she has a fondness for them.

Mary, Freddy, Tawny (who in this au might be a creature that Captain saved) and the rest of the Shazamily join in, as they too much prefer magic over humans. Maybe in this au, they were put into more abusive environments.

Fawcette becomes the center of the magical world, and is known as the most protected place if you are of the mystic.

It’s a shame that cursed Black Adam did not join them, his time trapped made him soft, and developed a fondness for people (it’s what his son would have wanted). And really, he ought to get over Kahndaq. Sure, they destroyed the country, but they had it coming! They were trapping a bunch of Gods!

Anyways, this is just me rambling. I might make a part 2 if the inspiration comes to me.