#but i ended up liking it so that's my link now

[lionneee]

Your sworn sword

English is not my first language, please be kind

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•Warnings: fingering, degradation (just a bit), 'just the tip', talking of sexual themes, piv, smut.•

{Request: I have a request! Aemond is send across the narrow sea to be the sworn sword/knight of a (verryy beautiful) princess from a noble house is esso’s. As punishment what he did to lucerys Thanks for reading dear 💙}

To say that Prince Aemond was grumpy was an euphemism.

He was rigid, stoic, and rude.

But your father loved him.

You couldn’t understand why, not after his most recent kill: his little nephew.

You remembered meeting Luke Velaryon once, he was a nice, gentle, kind boy.

His brother Jace was just the same.

Princess Rhaenyra had been invited as a guest at your father’s name day feast with her family, and you remembered spending a nice afternoon with her sons.

You actually kept contact with her youngest child, Jace. You two sometimes sent letters to each other, talking of your days apart.

You would have never said it outloud, but you had a weakness for the boy’s dark, beautiful hair.

But he was promised to her cousin Baela.

As soon as you heard the news, you thought he would have stopped sending you letters, but he didn't, and you almost cried of joy when the next letter came.

Then, your father sided with the greens.

He sided with rude, dangerous people, and named the worst of them as your sworn sword.

When he told you about his choice you begged him, you cried, you did everything you could to try to change his mind but it was all to no avail.

Now, all the other Ladies never sat with you, they were afraid to speak with you, all because of some dark, evil, scary person standing behind you, following every step you took.

It was so obvious how much he hated being a night, yet, he stood his role perfectly.

Aemond was always there, lurking like a shadow behind you, his presence cold and heavy, suffocating your every breath. He never spoke to you unless necessary, never showed any warmth or softness in his voice. There was nothing but formality and distance, a thick wall of indifference that made your skin crawl whenever he was near.

To be fair, the only thing you thought interesting of him was his dragon Vaghar.

Your days had become a game of silence, your once carefree nature now replaced with the constant awareness of his eyes on you. You missed the days when you could write to Jace without a worry, when his words brought you comfort and a glimpse of hope. Now, the letters felt like a secret rebellion, something dangerous, but you couldn’t give them up. They were the only link to a world that still held some warmth.

You still wrote to him, though your letters had become shorter, more cautious. You dared not mention Aemond, or your isolation. Instead, you spoke of mundane things, of books you were reading, of the changing seasons. Jace’s responses, too, had shifted, though he remained kind and attentive. There was always a note of tension, a hint of restraint. You knew he was aware of the shifting tides, of your father's allegiance to the Greens.

 You happily walked in your room, smiling as you held the newest letter on your hand from Jace.

Aemond was walking right behind you, but you couldn’t care.

Jace's letter had just come.

You chuckled to yourself as you closed the door of your room behind you, leaving Aemond outside, guarding your door. 

You jogged to your desk, sitting down on the chair and breaking the sigil, opening with trembling hands the letter.

There were only a few lines written.

You furrowed your brows, confused. He usually wrote at least one page.

Dearest friend,

I assume you have heard of my family’s recent loss, my sweet brother Luke, gone by the hand of my uncle Aemond. 

It saddens me to tell you this, but due to your father’s allegiance and your newest sworn sword, I believe it is time to end our communications.

Jace Velaryon

You felt a pain in your chest.

A deep pain.

You weren’t going to receive any more letters from him. 

I believe it is time to end our communications.

You stood up from your desk, leaving the letter to hit the floor as you ran to your bed, laying face down, your arms crossed under your face as you bursted into tears.

You didn’t eat lunch, you didn’t have dinner. You didn’t want to get up from your bed.

Your maids, even one of your closest friends tried to walk past Aemond to check on you, but he was impenetrable, he wouldn’t let anyone in, not if you didn’t want them to.

His behavior left you speechless.

You knew he was loyal, you knew he was one to do his duty, but the way he stood up for you, not letting anyone in just as you asked, left you almost flattered.

The hours dragged on as you laid in your bed, the room dark and suffocating. The weight of Jace's words still lingered, pressing down on your chest. It was as though the last thread connecting you to the warmth of your past had been severed. You felt utterly alone, the castle walls seeming colder, the silence more deafening.

But outside your door, Aemond remained, steadfast and unmoving. His presence felt different now, less like the shadow you despised and more like an unavoidable part of your life. He had become a constant, whether you liked it or not, and now, oddly, that constancy brought a shred of comfort in your moment of loss.

By the time the moon rose high in the sky, you hadn’t moved from your bed, save to cry quietly into your pillow. The pain of Jace's rejection, not just of you but of the friendship you had cherished, was overwhelming. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of anything else, let alone leave your room.

A soft knock echoed through the thick wooden door. At first, you ignored it, thinking it was another maid or friend trying to check on you, Aemond would have taken care of it in a moment. But after a moment, there was another knock, firm yet measured, followed by a voice, calm, collected, and unmistakably Aemond’s.

 "You haven't eaten." He said, his tone devoid of his usual coldness, though it was still restrained. You laid still, wondering if you could pretend you hadn’t heard him. But the silence lingered too long, and it was clear he wasn’t going to leave. He was your sworn sword, after all, bound to you, whether you liked it or not.

"I’m not hungry." You muttered into your pillow, your voice muffled and thick with the remnants of tears.

There was a pause, a moment of hesitation, which was unlike him. Then, Aemond spoke again, quieter this time. "It has been hours. You should take something, if only to keep your strength."

His words were filled with disinterest despite the meaning of them. He made impossible things possible.

"I don’t want anything." You repeated, more firmly this time. 

The door opened with a loud creek, and Aemond just walked inside. You scoffed, annoyed, but you felt too sad to think about him pissing you off.

“Leave me alone!” You groaned on the mattress, clenching your hands into fists. You could hear him moving in the room.

“That puppy of my nephew is what has reduced you in this state?” He asked, scoffing. You turned your head to look at him, and you saw him looking down at a letter in his hands.

Jace’s letter.

You bolted upright on the bed, fury boiling inside you at the sight of Aemond holding Jace’s letter. His tall, imposing figure seemed even more oppressive in the dim light of your room. His one good eye flicked over the page with a mixture of disdain and cold amusement, while the sapphire in his other socket glinted in the low light.

"Give that back!" you demanded, your voice cracking from the tears and frustration, but Aemond made no move to return the letter. He dropped the letter, letting out another scoff.

“You’re a fool.” He said, his rudeness making you red to your ear.

“How dare you talk to me like that?” You exclaimed, indignited.

“He’s a bastard. You’re sweet on a bastard, the son of my whore sister. That’s foolish.”

You felt your blood boil at his words, each syllable a sharp jab to your heart. “You don’t know anything about me! You think you can judge me just because you think you're so much better than everyone else!?”

He stepped closer, towering over you, his expression a mixture of contempt and something unreadable. “I am better than everyone else. I’m surely better than that boy who has no right on the throne he wants to claim so much.”

Your anger flared, but underneath it was a deep sorrow. “He’s more than just a name or a title! Jace has been kind to me, and you—” you pointed an accusing finger at him, “you are the one who brings darkness wherever you go.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, the air crackling with tension. “Kindness won’t save you, and neither will that bastard. This world isn’t built on sentiment. It’s built on strength and blood.”

“Strength?” you spat, incredulous. “Strength that comes from killing boys? That’s your idea of strength?”

He looked unfazed, his expression hardening. “Luke was weak. That’s why he’s dead.”

“You’re twisted.” You hissed. “It brings you pleasure, doesn’t it? Being feared, see people looking away from you –” He pushed you back before you could continue, as he started pulling off the upper structure of his armor.

You stumbled back as you looked up at him, confused and stunned, but he pushed you back again as he took off the lower part of his armor, making you fall back on your bed.

“You want to know what brings me pleasure?” He grabbed your ankle, dragging you down the bed until your butt was almost over it. He pushed the skirts of your dress up, exposing your legs.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You tried to close your legs, or pull down the skirts, but he raised your legs up, then he leaned down to grab both your thighs, spreading them apart, pressing his face against your underwear.

“This.” He mumbled against the thin clothing, his nose pressing against a funny spot against you, that made a strange sound come out of your mouth. “This brings me pleasure.” He growled as he pulled down your underwear along with the stockings. “Teaching stupid ladies their places.” He said as he dived his face back between your thighs, now his mouth pressing on that same spot, sucking and rubbing with his tongue, leaving you breathless for a moment, the pleasure was so high and so good you couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t see him, your skirts were covering the view, but you didn’t really care. Not when it felt this good. 

You didn’t think you'd ever felt this good. 

The one who was making you feel good, was a Targaryen Prince, a child murdered, the rider of the largest dragon in the world.

You could only squirm, your mind numbed by the pleasure, slowly overcoming all the alarms your brain was sending you, telling you to push the prince away, to not let him touch you in such an appropriate manner.

But then, all so suddenly it stopped, leaving you panting heavily. You saw Aemond raising his head from between your legs, coming into your field of vision.

His chin was wet, his only eye almost completely black as he looked down at you.

His hands moved on your skin, almost gently, caressing your skin as they moved up, your knees, your ankles. He wrapped his fingers around your ankles, securing your legs raised, your feet by each side of his head.

You should have stopped him.

This was improper, it was a sin. A sin you were committing with the worst man in the Seven Kingdoms.

You wanted to move, kick him back, telling him to stop touching you with his filthy, blood-stained hands, but under the dark gaze of his single eye you couldn’t move.

Aemond tightened the grip on your ankles, suddenly pulling you up so your hips lifted from the mattress. Startled, you let out a weak squeak, gripping the sheets tightly as your body moved forward, the back of your thighs landing harshly against him, your core rubbing against a protuberance on his pants, the impact sending another jolt of pleasure through your body.

“Yeah, you like it.” He hummed to himself as he dropped you back on the mattress. He leaned down, his body making space for himself between your legs as his face came to hover yours. “And you want to feel it more, don't you?” He smirked, looking down at you.

You could feel your face burning because of his words, more likely because of the truthfulness of them, because yes, you wanted to feel it again.

“No-” You mumbled as you looked up at him, directly in his eye, trying to sound firm, but he simply chuckled, grabbing your face with his hand, his fingers digging in the soft skin of your cheeks. “Such a liar. No wonder why my sweet bastard-nephew doesn’t want you.” 

That stang.

Your eyes immediately filled with tears and anger.

“How dare you?” You hissed as you tried to push him off of you, slapping his chest repeatedly, but he only smiled even more.

“There, there…” He hummed as his hand went back underneath your dress, finding you private again. No matter how much you fought, his body was keeping your legs apart, and he seemed impossible to move.

You only stopped when you felt a strange feeling, something filling you in a way you’ve never felt, that made you gasp out loud. You unconsciously let out a moan, your back arched instinctively, as your body almost contorted as he started moving his finger inside you.

“So easy to shut you up, mh?” He asked as he followed your face to be able to see every expression you made. “So easy to put into place.” He added then in a low voice.

You gritted your teeth together, trying to find in you the force to push him off, to not give him the satisfaction he was showing with that damn smile of his, but you couldn’t. The only sounds that came out of your mouth were whines or soft moans as his finger moved faster inside you, caressing everywhere inside you, and eliciting a pure bliss of pleasure.

“Jace is a fool for leaving you.” He said as he looked at you, your eyes half closed, your head leaned back, your lips apart. He didn’t even look like he realized he said that, it was like he was talking to himself and accidentally said it outloud. You turned your head to look at him, finding his eyes fixed on you, staring in appreciation. “You’re a rare beauty.” He said, his voice low and rough.

You blinked slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. A warmth spread across your chest, but you weren’t sure if it was the pleasure or the way his gaze lingered on you. 

No.

You thought to yourself.

Not him.

Please.

But the way he looked at you, like he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world was doing something to you. It made your stomach clench, your head dizzier.

You’ve been told countless times by suitors that you were a sight to see, a beauty, but it did nothing if not make you blush or feel appreciated.

With Jace you felt your heart beat so loud you feared it could jump out of your chest.

You too were aware of your beauty, but you never thought of it as a rareness.

But now with Aemond Targaryen, the cold, mean, cruel man, who was doing unspeakable things to you, who looked at you like a Goddess, you truly felt like one.

Aemond’s gaze pierced through you, a silent intensity in his expression that made your breath catch in your throat. You wished you could deny the way his presence and actions were affecting you, wished you could ignore the way his words stirred something deep inside. But the truth was undeniable. 

As he slipped his second finger inside your thigh core, you felt it crushing on you. You didn’t know what, but for a moment, you forgot about everything, Jace, the war, Aemond’s sins, your worries, your anger and your sadness, it all vanished by the newfound feeling of ecstasy. You whined louder, making aemond clamp his other hand immediately over your mouth to muffle your sounds as he kept moving your fingers. You looked at him with wide eyes, you didn’t know what had just happened to you, but you wanted to keep feeling it, no matter what cost, you wanted to feel that good again.

He kept pumping his fingers inside you as you saw him starting to move, rub, against your thigh, some hardness pressing and caressing your skin. His brows arched slightly, his eye narrowing slightly as he pressed his hips harder against you, seeking more friction and pressure. 

You’ve never seen a man do a face close to that one.

You’ve never seen Aemond make a face like that, and it was beautiful, it was breathtaking, hypnotizing, you felt like watching him all day as he experienced his pleasure.

He didn’t miss the way you seemed affected, obviously. He looked down at you and found you staring at him, his eye darkened even more, his pupil dilating even more if possible as he clenched his jaw.

“You like this?” He looked down at you, moving his hand from your mouth to your neck, gripping it tightly, but not enough to actually cut your air off. You tilted your head back, wrapping your hands on his wrist and arm, gasping as he slipped his fingers out, passing them over your pearl just to see you squirm, his lips moving into a smirk. “No.” He said as he sat up in his haunches between your legs, forcing you to spread them to make room for his body as he started to undo his pants. “You love it.”

You tried to look down, trying to understand what he was doing but he squeezed your throat into a warning, keeping your head in place. “What are you trying to see, uh?” He growled as he pushed his pants down enough to let his cock spring free. “Such a curious menace, always getting into trouble.” He hissed as he leaned over her to look at you from above. “Always sneaking around, making my life harder.” He gritted his teeth. “Making me chase you.” He raised her skirts to your waist as he aligned his cock to your core, wet and warm, hot.

“No – “ You mumbled as you felt the tip pressing on your skin. “Y-you can’t- We’re not married-” You mumbled as you panted, shaking your head. Aemond smiled down at you, his thumb caressing the skin of her neck. 

“No one will notice.” He said firmly, pushing slightly, making his tip grace the inside your core, just slightly, enough to hear another moan from you. “Just…” He groaned as he repeated the movement, moving his hips forward as his face contorted in pleasure. “... the tip – Fuck –” He groaned as he started moving his hips, the tip of his cock was being sucked in every time by your cunt, as if it was trying to keep him inside. 

It didn’t feel bad.

She did feel like her cunt was being torn apart, but she found the pain mixed to the pleasure extremely pleasing.

It was good.

It was so good.

The pleasure was so overwhelming, so strong, so blissful.

“A-Aemond – “ You bit your lower lip as you arched your back, jerking your hips to find more pleasure as his tip kept slipping out and back in.

Aemond couldn’t tear his eyes off the sight, your core making a wet sound every time he slipped in, your walls forced open to make space for his thick cock, his red tip being welcomed in the warmness of your body, and then the sound of your weak wail every time he pulled back, only enough to be able to push back in.

“Yeah like that –” He growled as he tightened his hand around your neck, his eye still fixed on how your bodies connected, his thrusts regular, calculated and hard.

He was hanging by a thread, and he was showing a great amount of control, just by not slamming his whole long cock inside you, and making you scream in pain and pleasure.

“Grind yourself like a whore –” He snarled as he started rolling his hips faster, the wet sound growing louder along with his pace. “Fuck youre so tight – You’re squeezing me inside - ”

It didn’t bother you the way he called you, the way he spoke. If not, it only aroused you more.

You bit your lower lip harder, and no matter how low you tried to keep your noises, it became impossible as Aemond moved his free hand, using his fingers to circle your pearl, putting just the right amount of pressure. Your back arched violently as you threw your head back, your mouth open in an oval shape, grunts and moans coming out one after another as Aemond tightened his hand around your throat, starting to cut some of your air supplies, your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

It was all so much.

It was all so good.

“Come.” He growled as he finally looked up at you. “Come, before I lose it.” His eye fixed on yours. He looked feral. He looked like a chained animal, that once set free, would have hunted and killed everything in its path. “Come, before absolutely ruin you.” 

It wasn’t like you had any control over it, because when the pleasure reached you in such a hard, strong frisson, you could only surrender to it. Your eyes widened, your mouth opened, but Aemond tightened his hand on your throat even more, killing every sound you could have let out. Your eyes watered as your hips jerked, the pleasure washing over you in devastating waves.

He snarled, letting go of your throat, but you barely had the time to take a deep breathe because you felt a stinging pain, barely muffled by the aftershocks of you climax, as Aemond grabbed tightly your hips and harshly pulled to him, making you slip down on the bed and making his cock thrust completely inside you, as he moaned on top of you.

“So fucking tight.” His voice was strained, his breathing heavy, then, you felt a strange sensation of wetness inside you.

You whined as the bliss of pleasure slowly faded away, leaving you in an uncomfortable pain, so you pushed Aemond away, who retrieved with a groan, slipping out of you.

You slowly sat up, looking at him as your mind slowly registered the last moments. 

Aemond stood up from the bed, tucking himself inside his pants and starting to put his armor back on.

You didn’t say anything in the meanwhile, you just stared down at the bed covers, where you and Aemond were laying till a few seconds before, committing one of the worst sins ever.

A sin that felt so good.

You snapped out of your moment of trance only when you heard the door slam shut, and a strange smell of burned paper in the air. You moved to the end of the bed, on the floor, there was a piece of paper on fire.

Jace’s letter.

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[missaengg]

In the Next Life…

Pairing: Sylus x f!reader Warnings: major character death, angst, mention of suicide, hurt/comfort Word Count: 1612

A wry chuckle escaped Sylus, his signature along with his mischievous smirk. “Kitten,” he tilted your chin up so that you looked at him, “I got to spend a lifetime loving you, and I got to spend my last moments on this Earth protecting you. I couldn’t ask for anything more.” Note: I recently saw a theory on Instagram concerning the flashback MC has regarding Sylus where her hands are covered in blood. In the flashback, MC’s blood covered hands appear to be holding a sword that’s stabbed a wanderer turned Sylus and his wanderer hand seems to be holding hers. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to track down the initial video, but this fic was inspired by the theory behind this flashback. I hope you enjoy! ao3 link here.

Blood. There was so much blood. It covered your hands, dark and slick, dripping from your fingertips to the scorched ground. The air was full of thick smoke from the fires that burned around you, the acrid smoke choking the air out of your lungs, a remnant of the battle that had just taken place.

Blood dripped down the blade, down to the hilt, down to the hand grasping it. Yours. Your hand was grasping the sword that was buried deep within his chest, through his heart. Sylus. The man you loved. Hot tears flooded your eyes. It wasn’t supposed to end like this... He wasn’t supposed to turn into this.

A large, clawed hand enveloped your trembling one on the hilt, guiding it off the sword and down to your side. For a monstrous thing, it was gentle, cradling your hand so tenderly your heart wrenched, your tears twisting into ugly heaving sobs.

”Heh…” He smiled, a small lovely, sweet smile —  an infuriating smile given the circumstances —  one that you loved to kiss, now gracing the lips of a monster.

How could he smile when he was dying? When his lover betrayed him? When you were the reason he turned into a monster? When you were the one who killed him with your own bare hands?

He looked at you so tenderly. His eyes were warm, so very warm, reminiscent of the way he looked at you on quiet mornings in bed, as he stroked your hair when you were still half-asleep. 

You screamed. You screamed until your throat was stripped raw. You screamed until your wails turned into pathetic mewls and barely any sound came out at all. You screamed until physically there was nothing else left to give anymore.

He rested his hand on the crown of your head, patting you clumsily, as best he could given the giant claws his hands had become as he turned.

”Sylus…” you said his name, a strangled cry coming from the back of your throat, thick with your tears both shed and unshed. “I— I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

”It’s okay, kitten,” he rumbled. “It’s okay.” His hand didn’t rest, still soothing you when you should be the one soothing him.

”It’s not— It’s not okay! It’s all my fault… You’re dying because of me.” You didn’t understand how he could remain so calm, how he could be so forgiving. Why wasn’t he angry with you? It was all your fucking fault. He turned into a Wanderer because of you, because you… you betrayed him. “I— I killed you.”

A wry chuckle escaped Sylus, his signature along with his mischievous smirk. “Kitten,” he tilted your chin up so that you looked at him, “I got to spend a lifetime loving you, and I got to spend my last moments on this Earth protecting you. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

His words brought on another wave of tears. You knew. You knew that based on strength, you should be the one who was dying. You knew that he ran into your sword to protect you. To protect you from him. To protect you from what you had turned him into. 

You wished he would be furious with you so that your heart would ache less, so that you felt less awful and torn, so that you had to continue living on with his rage embedded like shrapnel in every part of you, instead of this gut-wrenching grief threatening to tear you apart into tiny little pieces. Because… because how were you supposed to continue on without him?

”That’s not fair, Sy.” Your breaths were hitching in your throat, rapid breaths struggling to draw in enough air in between cries. 

“I love you, kitten.” He pressed his palm to your cheek, claws splayed back to avoid hurting you. “Forever and always.”

You closed your eyes, nuzzling your cheek into his palm seeking his warmth only to find none. The thick, black scales that had formed during his transformation were so cold, so foreign on your cheek. His hand was so cold. Why was he so cold? Tears fell from your cheeks, sliding down the scales that now covered what once was human flesh.

”I love you too,” you whispered so softly you wondered if he heard.

His peaceful smile confirmed he had heard you. You hated it. He was fucking dying because of what you did to him, and he sat there looking at peace with his death as if he had nothing left to want in this life anymore, as if death wasn’t final.

And he was still gazing at you so tenderly.

”Kitten,” — God you loved it when he called you that — “I’ll see you in the next life. Because I’m going to come find you. Wait for me until then, yeah?”

You nodded through your tears.

”Now how about a kiss before I go?”

That damn smirk twinkled at you. Sylus was half Wanderer, the sword piercing his heart preventing him from turning fully. But even as a monster, even as he lost what made him human, you still loved him with all your heart. He was still Sylus. Your Sylus.

”Okay…”

You crawled closer to his kneeling form avoiding the giant sword protruding from his chest. Rising on your knees, you pressed your lips to his, now icy cold and devoid of the softness you had become accustomed to expect. It was a chaste kiss, short, but bittersweet full of your regrets and grief and wet from the tears running down your face.

”Perfect,” Sylus murmured when you pulled away. “I can die a happy man.”

His words pierced your heart like shards of ice. You knew he was dying. Even as a Wanderer, he wouldn’t be able to survive where you had stabbed him, but you still felt a rush of anger at the words being spoken out loud. Verbalizing them cemented them into truth, into something that was inevitable.

“No, don’t say that,” you whined. “Don’t say that you’re dying.” You shoved him on the chest petulantly like a child. “Don’t say that.”

Sylus violently coughed, ragged, gurgling coughs ripping through him, his body shuddering with each cough, startling you into pulling away. Flecks of blood sprayed into the air, splattering onto the ground before him, onto your face mixing with your tears, and he still— still gazed at you with absolute adoration in his eyes,

“I love you,” he rasped out. 

Then he fell silent. His eyes closed, his shoulders slumped forward, and his head dropped down to his chest.

”No…”

You crawled to him, heart pounding in your chest, hands trembling. 

“No, no, no…”

You grabbed at his crumpled, motionless form on the ground. He was cold, the chill seeping into your fingers, up your arms, spreading through you leaving only a numbness in its wake. 

“Please, no…”

Your voice cracked as his lifeless body fell into you, heavy from his unrestrained weight.

”No…”

You cradled his head against your chest feeling the scales carving into your flesh, but you didn’t feel the pain. Nothing could compare to the pain you were currently feeling. Your chest was caving in, squeezing the breath out of your lungs. 

“No.”

Tears dropped onto Sylus from above. You wailed, howling into the dark holding him.

”I’m sorry… Sy… I’m so sorry…” you repeated over and over again, wails quieting down into hoarse whispers. “I’ll find you in the next life. I promise. I promise…” 

You pressed your lips to every part of him you loved, his temples, his brows, his eyelids, his lips, his chin, every single part of his face, even the parts of him that were covered in thick armor-like scales, even the parts of him that were no longer human.

You gently laid him down, taking care not to jostle him so that it wouldn’t disturb the sword impaling him even though you knew it didn’t matter. You took care not to anyway. You stared blankly at the man you loved. Sylus was gone. He was gone, and you didn’t know how you were going to live your life without him, if life was even worth living without him. 

He said he would come find you in the next life. But you didn’t know if next lives existed, if people lived endless loops of entering and exiting this world. Even if there was a next life, was there a guarantee that you would come back together within the same lifetime? Or would you and Sylus be doomed to live without one another through several lifetimes before the stars aligned?

You spotted your gun on the ground a few feet away where it rested after skittering to a stop during your battle with him.

If you and Sylus were to meet in the next life, would you still remember him? Would he still remember you? The questions came relentlessly, one after another. You didn’t know the answers. You didn’t care. All you knew was that Sylus didn’t exist in this life. Sylus was dead.

Bleakly staring at the gun, you numbly pushed yourself to your feet, stumbling the few steps it took to reach it. You grasped the gun, feeling the familiar weight of the metal in your hand.

Perhaps… perhaps if you followed Sylus… you would get to see him again. Feel his embrace. Hear him call you kitten. All the things you wouldn’t be able to experience anymore in this lifetime.

You pressed the muzzle to your temple. 

“Sy, I’m coming.”

You cocked the trigger.

”I love you.”

You took a shuddering breath, voice cracking from the tears prickling your eyelids.

”I’ll see you soon.”

[kingofbodyrolls]

Friendcation (m) | myg | pregnancy special

you and Yoongi try to get pregnant, but it doesn’t go as planned, as the road isn’t easy. But he’s your rock, and he’ll stand with you through thick and thin 💜

→ Pairing: mechanic!Yoongi x reader (female) → AUs: established relationship, mechanic!Yoongi, married!au, pregnancy!au → Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 7.5k → Warnings (general) + triggers: mentions of blood because of SPOILER a miscarriage (there’s blood but know more detail than that), angst, anxiety/fear for the future and for a miscarriage again, pregnancy, raging hormones, drinking sorrows away, getting angry without course, yelling without course, OC is being rather destructive in this one but Yoongi is very sweet, understanding and supportive 👏 → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (is this really a surprise? But please don’t be stupid irl, though they aren’t stupid here ‘cuz they’re actively trying for a baby); oral (female and male receiving), doggystyle over a table 😝, spanks, creampie, cockwarming, kisses (yes that is a warning because it’s sugary sweet 😘), multiple orgasms → Author’s note: hiya all you lovely people! I’m back at it again with another extra for friendcation and let me tell you, even though this is very angsty, I loved writing it a lot. I drew from my own experience (miscarriages), but I didn’t want to go into too much detail, so it’s very light. But it does affect OC and her mood, like she almost gets depressed over it 😢 But Yoongi is there to pick her up and support her, so don’t worry! It’s a sweet one, and of course it has a happy ending, because you know what’s gonna happen in the winter special that I wrote a long time ago! I hope you love it as much as I did! This one was honestly so fast for me to write, like a few hours! It’s so much easier for me when I write from my own personal experience. And if you’ve ever had a miscarriage, I want to give you a hug, and please know that you’re not alone, okay? 🫂 (author’s note2: I wrote this story in the beginning of August 2024) → Read on AO3? [link] ✨

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“There are two lines!” you cry out, bursting into the living room with a pregnancy test clutched in your trembling hand. You twirl it in the air like a magic wand, watching the realization spread across your husband’s face, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of joy and wonder. He moves toward you, a smile breaking across his lips, and in one swift motion, he wraps you in his arms, pulling you close as he plants a tender kiss on your cheek.

“Are you really pregnant?” he murmurs, his voice soft yet trembling with excitement and a touch of fear. You hear the uncertainty beneath his joy, the way hope and anxiety dance together in his words. You’ve both dreamed of this moment, talked about it late into the night, imagining the tiny life you would create together. Ever since your honeymoon, where every whispered wish was laced with the hope of creating a new life, this has been your shared dream. And now, it’s real. The weight of it hits you all at once, and tears well up in your eyes, spilling over as the emotions of the moment overwhelm you.

He kisses you again, this time with more intensity. “I can’t wait to have a baby with you,” he whispers against your skin.

Neither can you. The joy is too immense to contain, so you schedule a doctor’s appointment, needing to hear it confirmed, to know for certain that your dream is taking root inside you. Yoongi is right there beside you, holding your hand as the doctor measures your HCG levels via a blood test and tells you the news you’ve been waiting for—you’re pregnant, and not just newly so. Eight weeks have already passed, and suddenly, the idea of this tiny life feels even more real.

Giddy with excitement, the two of you start to dream out loud, envisioning a life that needs more space to grow. The apartment where you built your love, small and cozy as it is, now feels too cramped for the family you want to become. You’ve always talked about raising your children just outside the city, where the air is cleaner, and the pace of life slower, where a bigger house awaits with room enough for your growing dreams. Yoongi smiles at the thought of a garage, where he can create and tinker, a space of his own.

You start house hunting in the suburbs surrounding Seoul, imagining nurseries painted in soft pastels, browsing baby clothes with tiny sleeves, and laughing over the choices. Each step feels like a dream in the making, a life slowly unfolding before you, full of promise and possibility.

But today has been long, and your body is weary. The excitement has worn you down, and as you return home, you kick off your shoes with a sigh, feeling the ache in your swollen feet. You glance around, hoping to hear the familiar sounds of your husband’s return, but the apartment is quiet. You open the fridge and pull out a cold bottle of water, hoping it will soothe your frayed nerves. The stress of your marketing job clings to you like a shadow, and all you want is a moment to unwind, to let go of the day’s tension.

As you set the bottle down on the counter, a sudden, sharp pain radiates through your stomach. Your hand instinctively flies to your belly, and you double over, gasping as the pain intensifies. It’s not normal, you think, panic rising in your chest. Something is wrong.

When you look down at the floor, a wave of horror crashes over you. 

Blood. 

Dark, vivid, and far too much of it. It’s pooling beneath you, seeping through your clothes, and it’s only then that you fully realize how soaked you are. 

Terror grips you, squeezing your chest, making it hard to breathe. Tears well up in your eyes, your breath comes in ragged gasps as panic begins to set in. This can’t be happening—this much blood, it’s not normal, not now, not when you’re carrying life inside you. A flood of thoughts races through your mind: is the baby inside you still safe? Or is this the cruel end to a dream that had only just begun? 

You need Yoongi—his steady presence, his strong arms, his comforting words—but he’s not here.

With trembling hands, you fumble for your phone, digging it out of your skirt pocket, and desperately pull up your husband’s contact. The phone barely rings before the door to your apartment creaks open, and there he is, stepping inside. Relief mixes with fear as he rushes to you, his eyes widening in shock as he takes in the scene—the blood, your trembling form, the tears streaming down your face.

Without a word, he’s at your side, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. His fingers, rough from years of work, trace gentle, soothing circles on your back, trying to calm the storm inside you.

“What happened?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady, but you can hear the tremor beneath his words, the fear that he’s trying so hard to mask. His breath comes quicker, and though he tries to be strong for you, you can see the terror in his eyes, mirroring your own.

“Out of nowhere, the pain started,” you sob, clutching at your stomach, “and then the bleeding... so much blood.” Your voice breaks as the pain flares again, sharp and unforgiving.

Yoongi pulls you to your feet, his grip firm but tender, “We need to get you to the doctor’s. Now.” His words are clipped, urgent, but his touch is all comfort as he guides you out of the apartment, into the elevator, and finally into the car. The drive is shrouded in a thick, suffocating silence, broken only by your muffled sobs. The fear that’s lodged in your throat is too heavy to put into words, and deep down, you’re terrified of what you might say if you tried.

At the doctor’s office, the cold gel on your stomach is a jarring contrast to the heat of your fear. The ultrasound screen flickers to life, and there it is—a heartbeat, strong and steady. Relief washes over you like a cool breeze, but it’s tinged with uncertainty. You dare not hope too much, not yet.

Yoongi’s voice cuts through the silence, steady but laced with anxiety, “Why is she bleeding so much?” His eyes search the doctor’s face for reassurance, for something solid to hold onto.

The doctor hesitates, their gaze softening as they meet your wide, tear-streaked eyes. “It’s not uncommon to bleed in the early stages of pregnancy,” they explain gently. “Everything could be okay, but…” they pause, and the weight of that single word hangs heavy in the air, “it might be a miscarriage in progress. I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do except wait and see what happens.” The apology in their voice is almost unbearable, as if they’re sorry for delivering such uncertain news.

And so you wait, the days stretching out like an endless horizon. The bleeding continues, each drop a reminder of the life that hangs in the balance. Yoongi never leaves your side, holding you close through the long, silent nights. You curl into a ball on the bed, grief pulling you into its dark embrace, and you weep for what you fear you’ve lost, though no one has told you for certain. You cry yourself to sleep most nights, haunted by the thought that the heartbeat you saw was the last flicker of hope, slowly fading away.

You feel like a hollow shell, a prisoner within your own skin, drifting through the motions of life, performing tasks you know you should care about but no longer do. The days blur together in a monotony of routines—going to work, waking up, all the things that once held meaning now feel like burdens. The joy that once colored your world has faded to gray. Yet, Yoongi remains by your side, unwavering in his support, whispering words of comfort, promising that everything will be okay. But when the doctor confirms your worst fears, telling you that the life you carried is no longer, you don’t even cry.

It’s as if your tears have run dry, drained by days of sorrow, leaving you numb and empty. Yoongi pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly, trying to shield you from the storm that rages inside. You feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, and you cling to it like a lifeline.

Back home, you slip off your shoes and head straight for the alcohol cabinet. The house is quiet, the air heavy with the weight of your grief. You reach for a bottle of red wine, the one you’ve been saving for a special occasion. With a shaky hand, you uncork it and pour the crimson liquid into a glass, filling it almost to the brim. You glance at your husband, managing a weak smile. “Do you want one?”

“It’s the middle of the day on a Saturday,” he says softly, concern lacing his voice. But you just shrug, raising the glass to your lips as if it could wash away the pain. “But I don’t mind drinking with you,” he adds, grabbing a glass for himself and pouring some wine. After all, it’s five o’clock somewhere, right?

He settles beside you on the couch, wrapping an arm around you, and you lean into him, seeking the comfort of his warmth. The past few days have been a blur of tears and aching silence, and as you take a sip of the wine, the familiar burn in your throat offers a momentary escape. You know it’s not a solution, but today, you allow yourself this indulgence. Tomorrow will be different, you tell yourself. Tomorrow is a new day.

Yoongi doesn’t say much; he simply kisses the top of your head, holding you close as you both drink in the quiet of the day. There’s a solace in his presence, in the way his arms encircle you, making you feel safe even as the world crumbles around you. The wine, the warmth of his body, the soft hum of his voice as he sings you a lullaby—it’s all a balm to your wounded soul.

Before long, sleep overtakes you, and you drift off with your head resting on his lap, his fingers gently combing through your hair. When you wake, your head throbs with a dull ache, and your eyes feel dry and gritty. You rub them, groaning softly as you stretch. Yoongi isn’t beside you, but on the table, you find a glass of water and a couple of painkillers waiting for you. The small gesture makes your heart swell with love.

As you swallow the pills, Yoongi emerges from the bathroom, a towel slung low around his hips, droplets of water clinging to his skin. His voice, still thick with sleep, wraps around you like a warm blanket. “How are you feeling, babe?”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “I have a slight headache, but I’m okay,” you reply, pouting playfully as you try to tame your unruly hair. “Thank you for indulging me,” you add, feeling a surge of gratitude for the way he understands you, even in your darkest moments.

He crosses the room, sitting beside you on the couch, his presence a steady anchor in the turbulent sea of your emotions. “I’ll always be by your side, babe, you know that,” he says, his voice soft but filled with unwavering conviction.

You nod, your heart swelling with a love so deep it almost hurts. Because you do know. And you love him all the more for it.

He disappears into the bedroom to get dressed, and when he returns, he sits beside you again, his hand finding yours, his touch grounding you. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You hesitate, fidgeting with your fingers, feeling the weight of the words that hover on your lips. But you know that talking might help, that sharing the burden might make it easier to bear. So you take a deep breath and let the words spill out.

“I want to try to get pregnant again,” you confess, the hurt still fresh, but beneath it, a flicker of hope. Despite the pain, despite everything, you still want that baby. You still believe in the dream that once filled you with so much joy.

Yoongi looks at you, his eyes soft with understanding. He nods, his grip on your hand tightening just a little. “Okay,” he says, his voice steady and sure. “Let’s try again then.”

And in that moment, you know that no matter what comes next, you won’t be facing it alone.

And so you try, again and again, in every possible way, in so many positions that it borders on the absurd. The weeks blur into months, yet each time you face the stark emptiness of a negative pregnancy test, hope crumbles a little more. You feel bombed, discouraged, like a balloon slowly deflating, the air of optimism leaking out with each failed attempt. You never imagined it would be this hard to conceive, and the disappointment weighs heavy on your heart.

Doubt creeps in like a shadow, wrapping its cold fingers around your thoughts. You begin to wonder if there’s something wrong with your body, some hidden flaw that’s keeping you from the one thing you want most. Why isn’t it happening? And yet, beneath the yearning, there’s a trembling fear—fear of what will happen when you finally see those two lines again. Fear of reliving the pain of another loss.

“Maybe we should see a doctor,” Yoongi suggests one quiet afternoon as you both pick at your food, the silence between you thick with unspoken worries. “Maybe I should get my sperm checked,” he muses, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and determination.

You nod, though deep down you doubt that he’s the problem. It feels like the fault lies with you, that your body is betraying you. Isn’t there something about a woman’s fertility dipping after thirty? You vaguely recall reading that somewhere, and it haunts you now. But Yoongi’s right—there’s no harm in getting checked. Perhaps it will give you some answers, or at least a direction.

A few days later, you walk into your doctor’s office with leaden feet and little hope, convinced that age has already set its limits on your dreams. The tests are done, the waiting begins, and you brace yourself for the worst. But when the results come back, they reveal that everything is fine—your fertility is normal, Yoongi’s sperm is in excellent shape. So why isn’t it happening? The question echoes in your mind, relentless and cruel.

Frustration gnaws at you, its claws sinking deeper with each passing day. You find yourself snapping at your colleagues, the tension spilling over in ways you can’t control. Apologies tumble from your lips almost as often as the sharp words that precede them. At home, you manage to hold your temper, but you fear it’s only a matter of time before even Yoongi becomes a target, despite his unwavering support.

Making love, once a source of joy and connection, now feels hollow, reduced to a mechanical routine. The passion that once ignited between you has dimmed, replaced by a clinical determination to conceive. You know Yoongi feels it too; he’s always been attuned to your moods.

“I’m not fucking you when you’re not in the mood,” he says one night, his voice low but firm.

You scoff, anger flaring as you rise from the bed. “Just fuck me so I can get pregnant.”

“No,” he replies, his tone unyielding. “Not when your heart’s not in it.”

With that, he stands up, naked and resolute, pulling his clothes back on as you lie there, seething and tearful, frustration coursing through you like a fever. The anger isn’t just at him; it’s at yourself, at your body, at the unfairness of it all. You hear him in the kitchen, the clatter of dishes a stark contrast to the silence that fills the bedroom. You pull yourself together, dressing slowly, avoiding the mirror because you know you won’t like what you see—a woman who feels trapped in a body that won’t cooperate, stuck between desire and despair.

But Yoongi isn’t wrong. Pushing yourself when your heart isn’t in it won’t help, you know that. You just can’t help the desperation that drives you to this point. Taking a deep breath, you step out of the bedroom and find him in the kitchen. Without a word, you wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice thick with regret. “I’ll do better.”

He hugs you back, strong and warm, and in that embrace, you find a flicker of comfort. You kiss, a promise unspoken between you, and you feel a surge of gratitude for the man who stands beside you through all the heartbreak and frustration. Whatever comes next, you know you’re in this together.

You immerse yourself in research, scouring every corner of the internet for vitamins, supplements, and rituals that might tip the odds in your favor. Each new discovery feels like a lifeline, something to cling to in the relentless tide of hope and disappointment. But one day, after yet another fruitless search, you feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you—a weariness that reaches deep into your bones. You close your laptop with a heavy sigh and turn to Yoongi, the words slipping from your lips before you can second-guess them. 

“I don’t think I want to have kids anymore,” you say, your voice eerily calm, as if stating a simple fact. But inside, you feel as cold and distant as the words sound. Yoongi’s head snaps toward you so quickly that you can almost hear the air shift. His eyes search your face, trying to comprehend the sudden shift in your resolve.

“We can just keep trying,” he replies, his voice gentle but with an undercurrent of desperation, as though he’s pleading with you—because he is. You know how deeply he longs for babies, for a family built on the love you share.

But the weight of it all crushes you, and the tears you’ve held back for so long finally threaten to spill over. “I don’t think I can,” you whisper, your voice breaking as a sob catches in your throat. The exhaustion, the fear, the endless cycle of hope and heartbreak—it’s too much.

Yoongi pulls you into his arms, his embrace warm and reassuring. He pats your back, murmuring that it’s okay, that everything will be fine, even as he holds you a little tighter, as if trying to shield you from the pain. He pulls back slightly, his eyes locking with yours, and you see the sincerity in them—the way he’s willing to let go of his own dreams for your sake. 

“We don’t have to have kids if you don’t want to anymore,” he says, his voice steady, his gaze unwavering, making sure you know he means it. It’s not just a comfort; it’s a promise.

You swallow hard, the enormity of the decision weighing on you. Could you keep trying? Maybe. But fear coils around your heart, tightening with each passing thought. The future feels uncertain, and that terrifies you.

“Maybe,” you begin, searching for the right words, “we could still try, but not focus on it so much. I don’t think it’s healthy for me to be this obsessed.”

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips as relief softens his features. “Maybe we should rekindle our love,” he suggests gently. “Sex shouldn’t feel like a chore, and I hate that it does for you,” he adds, a pout forming on his lips as he looks at you with concern. “How can I make it better for you?”

You take a moment to ponder his question, reflecting on the love you share, the bond that has always been strong, even in the face of adversity. You realize that it’s not about what’s missing, but about what’s been neglected—the time, the attention, the simple joys of being together. Your hectic schedules have stolen moments that should have been yours, and now you feel the distance.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” you ask, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

His chuckle is like music, sweet and comforting, warming you from the inside out. “Always,” he replies, intertwining his fingers with yours, his touch a silent vow of affection.

In the weeks that follow, you carve out more time for each other, stepping back from the rush of work to simply be together. You surprise him at his garage, sharing takeout in his cluttered office, laughing over greasy fries and soda. You catch late-night movies, stroll through the mall hand-in-hand, visit little cafes tucked away in the corners of the city. You do all the things you’ve missed, the simple, everyday joys that once made your love effortless, and already you feel lighter, happier.

Amidst this rekindling of your love, you stumble upon the perfect house just outside of Seoul. It’s spacious, with a large living room that echoes with the laughter of future children you haven’t given up on just yet. The garden sprawls wide, with enough space for dreams to grow, and the garage—oh, the garage is exactly what Yoongi has always wanted, a place to tinker and create. When you step inside for the first time, you feel it in your bones—this is home. It speaks to you, calls to something deep within you, and you see the same recognition in Yoongi’s eyes. 

The decision to buy the house is easy, almost instinctual, as if you’ve always known this was where you were meant to be. You celebrate with friends, toasting to the new chapter that’s about to begin, and their joy mirrors your own. The move won’t happen until summer, giving you a few precious months to pack up your life and prepare for the future. And for the first time in a long while, that future doesn’t feel so daunting—it feels full of possibilities.

It’s March, and winter still clings to the world with frosty fingers, the cold seeping through the cracks of the early morning. Yoongi holds you extra close as you stroll along the river, the chill in the air making you grateful for the wool scarf he wrapped around your neck with such tender care. Your hand finds refuge in the deep pocket of his coat, where your fingers intertwine, sharing warmth with each squeeze and caress. 

As you walk, you take in the quiet beauty of the morning. Couples sit huddled on benches, whispering secrets, some stealing kisses as if the cold gives them courage. Children chase each other across the dewy grass, their laughter like wind chimes in the crisp air. You savor these moments, these tranquil walks before the world wakes up fully and the weather softens into spring.

Yoongi tugs you toward a small coffee shop nestled by the river, and soon you’re cradling steaming cups of hot cocoa. The rich scent of chocolate wraps around you like a comforting blanket as you settle into a cozy corner. Across the table, Yoongi’s fingers dance playfully over yours, each brush sending electric jolts through your body. His touch warms you from the inside out, and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, though you try to hide it.

Suddenly, he chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’ve got something on your face,” he teases, pointing at your mouth.

You fumble to wipe it away, but before you can, Yoongi leans over the table, closing the distance between you. His lips capture yours in a soft kiss, his tongue slipping out to clean the smudge of cocoa from your mouth. The simple act is intimate, thrilling, and utterly unexpected.

“Yoongi, we’re in public,” you stammer, your voice a mix of scolding and breathless surprise. The audacity of his gesture stirs a warmth between your legs, a desire that flickers to life like a spark catching flame.

“When has that ever bothered me?” he retorts with a mischievous grin, his boldness both shocking and endearing.

You stare at him, baffled by his audacity, but also deeply drawn to it. With a playful smile, you grab his hand, pulling him up from his chair. “Let’s get home before you get us kicked out.”

Laughter bubbles between you as you walk hand in hand, the cold forgotten in the heat of the moment. By the time you step into the elevator, the tension has built to a fever pitch, and you find yourself unable to wait any longer. You pounce on him, surprising Yoongi with the fiery need in your kiss, your lips capturing his in a fierce embrace.

“I want you, Yoon,” you whisper breathlessly, your lips brushing against his ear as you tighten your arms around his neck. “I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

His giggle is low and throaty, the sound reverberating through you as his back meets the steel of the elevator wall. “Hmmm, you’d like that, huh?”

“Yes,” you pant, your breath hot against his skin. You lick your lips, eyes dark with desire. “You can decide how you want it. My birthday present to you.”

He chuckles, kissing you softly, tenderly, as he murmurs, “But you already gave me a scotch, a new toolbox, and a house,” a kiss for each gift, each one lingering longer than the last. “You don’t need to give me more.”

“And sex shouldn’t really be a gift,” he adds, his lips quirking into a smile, but you nod, already knowing this. 

“Doesn’t change the fact that I want you inside me,” you counter with a wink, giving your own ass a playful slap. 

A low grunt escapes him, arousal thickening his voice as he grabs you, pinning you against the wall, his lips tracing a searing path down your neck. You moan softly, your body arching toward him, your pussy throbbing with need.

When the elevator doors slide open, he pulls you out, his grip firm as he leads you to your apartment door. He fumbles briefly with the key, urgency in every motion, and the moment the door clicks shut behind you, the world outside ceases to exist.

Shoes are discarded in a hurry, and in the blink of an eye, Yoongi has you in the kitchen, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter. He spreads your legs, his eyes dark and hungry as he takes in the sight of you. Already, you’re so wet, aching for him, and you can see the primal desire mirrored in his gaze. 

He kneels before you, lifting the hem of your dress with a mischievous glint in his eye. “There’s a wet patch on your panties, babe,” he murmurs, a chuckle rumbling from his chest as his gaze darkens with desire.

“Well, I want you badly,” you breathe, your legs parting in invitation, your body aching for his touch.

Without hesitation, he hooks his fingers into the delicate fabric of your panties and slides them down your legs, letting them pool on the floor. His lips find your slick pussy, his tongue a sinful instrument of pleasure as it dances over your folds. He laps at you with fervor, his nose grazing your sensitive clit as his tongue delves deeper, exploring every inch of you. You moan, the sound almost foreign to your own ears, lost as you are in the ecstasy he’s drawing from you. It doesn’t take long before you’re unraveling, your release shuddering through you as you come apart on his tongue.

He pulls back, his lips glistening with your essence, and he licks them slowly, savoring the taste of you. “You’re so hot,” he breathes, his voice thick with need.

You hum in response, wanting to tell him how irresistible he is, but before you can, he’s grabbing your hips, pulling you down from the counter and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. “I want to fuck you so bad,” he growls against your mouth, his fingers digging into your flesh possessively. “I want to fill you up, to lose myself in your pussy.”

When you pull away, his eyes are wild, pupils blown wide with lust. “I want to take care of you first,” you whisper, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “I want to suck you off.”

“You don’t have to. I just need to be inside you,” he argues, his hands already unzipping his pants, freeing his hard, aching cock.

“No,” you insist, your voice soft but firm. “It’s your birthday, and I want to give you everything you desire.” You help him discard his pants and boxers, and as soon as he’s free of the fabric, you wrap your hand around his dick, feeling him twitch in your grasp. He groans, a needy sound that makes your own desire flare even hotter.

“I want you to fuck my mouth,” you say, your voice sultry and full of intent. You drop to your knees before him, looking up with wide, pleading eyes. “Please.”

He hesitates, but only for a moment. You always have this power over him, making him bend to your will with just a word, a look. So when you take him into your warm, wet mouth, he sees stars. You hold his gaze, your eyes locked on his as you slowly, sensually, begin to pleasure him. He thinks you look like a vixen, so full of confidence and allure, and sometimes he can’t quite believe that you’re his, that you belong to him in every way.

For a while, he lets you lead, your lips and tongue working him over with skillful precision. But soon, his need for control takes over, his hands tangling in your hair as he starts to guide your movements, thrusting gently at first, then deeper, harder. He knows you can take it, even when your eyes flutter closed and your breath hitches. He knows you love it as much as he does. The sounds you make, the soft, wet noises of your mouth on him, fill the kitchen, and he moans your name, the pleasure almost overwhelming.

He can feel himself getting close, that familiar tightening in his core, and it takes everything in him to pull back, to stop before he loses himself entirely. When he does, a string of saliva still connects you, a testament to the raw, unfiltered passion between you.

“Was it too much?” he asks, his voice rough with desire, his thumb brushing against your flushed cheek.

You shake your head, wiping the drool from your lips. “No,” you assure him, your voice breathless but steady. “If it was, I would have said something.”

“Good,” he rasps, pulling you to your feet, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. “Because now I need to fuck you. On the table.”

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, a playful glint in your gaze. “The dining table?”

He grins, wicked and full of promise. “Yes, the dining table.”

He nods, and you do as he says, feeling his presence close behind you, a silent promise of what’s to come. The air thickens with anticipation as you remain in your dress, a symbol of your desire lingering between the layers of fabric. When he turns you around to face the table and gently presses you down onto its cool surface, you know exactly what he wants, and the thought alone sends a shiver down your spine. God, you love it when he takes you from behind.

He hikes up your dress, exposing you to the cool air, and his hands find your ass, groping and squeezing with a possessive reverence. “So pretty,” he murmurs, voice low and rough with need.

You feel the heat of his cock teasing against your entrance, the anticipation almost unbearable. His hands spread your cheeks, and then you feel the head of his cock pressing into your slick pussy. Slowly, he pushes in, the stretch more intense in this position, but you welcome it, your body humming with pleasure as he fills you completely.

He grunts, a deep, primal sound that reverberates through you as he bottoms out, his cock buried to the hilt inside you. “Yoongi—please, move,” you pant, your hands gripping the edge of the table, seeking leverage as he begins to thrust into you.

“Fuck,” you moan, your voice breaking as he picks up the pace, his hips slamming into yours with a rhythm that feels both punishing and divine.

His hands roam over your backside, caressing, gripping, pulling you closer with every thrust. “Ah, fuck. You always feel so fucking good around me,” he groans, his voice dripping with raw desire as he speaks your name.

“I love having your cock in me. Fuck me faster, please,” you plead, your voice breathless, every nerve in your body alight with want.

The table shifts beneath you, scraping against the floor with each thrust, but the sound is lost in the symphony of your pleasure. Soon, this place won’t be yours to worry about, but right now, it’s all that grounds you as he drives into you, hitting that perfect spot inside that makes your vision blur with bliss.

“Fuck! Right there!” you scream, your mind emptying of everything but him, your husband, the man you love so fiercely.

“So fucking tight,” he moans, his fingers digging into your hips with a grip that promises to leave marks, tangible reminders of this moment.

“Yoon—, I’m gonna come,” you gasp, your breath ragged, sweat beading on your forehead as the heat between you builds to a crescendo.

He rams into you harder, just like you wanted, and you shatter around him, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that leaves you trembling, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. Your vision goes white, stars bursting behind your eyelids as your body sags against the table, barely able to support itself.

“Fuck,” he curses, and then his hand comes down on your ass, the sharp sound of the slap echoing in the room. You clench around him reflexively, another wave of pleasure crashing over you.

“Fuck,” he curses again, another slap, another burst of sensation, and you cry out, your body quivering under his relentless assault.

“Yoongi!” you scream, teetering on the edge of another climax, “I think—”

But the words are stolen from you as he continues to pound into you, the force of his thrusts driving the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping, lost in a sea of sensation.

“Fucking shit. I’m so close,” he pants, his hand soothing over your ass before delivering another stinging slap, and your second orgasm melds into a third, your body convulsing with the intensity of it. You cry out in pleasure, your voice raw as your world narrows to the feel of him inside you, the only anchor in the storm of your release.

His thrusts grow erratic, less controlled, until finally, he stills, his cock buried deep as he spills into you, the warmth of his release filling you up. A sigh escapes your lips, your body utterly spent, your mind adrift in the aftermath.

He collapses over you, his weight a comforting pressure as he keeps himself inside you, his hands caressing your body with gentle affection. “You’re so pretty,” he whispers against your ear, pressing soft kisses to your skin. “I love you so much.”

You chuckle softly, the warmth of your love for him blooming in your chest. “You aren’t too bad yourself,” you tease, feeling his softened cock slide out of you as you turn to face him. “And I love you so much too.”

He smiles, tender and full of adoration, before capturing your lips in a kiss that speaks of gratitude and deep, unwavering love. “Thank you for this lovely birthday,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips.

You smile back, letting him take your hand and lead you to the bathroom, where he gently cleans you up, his touch as tender as his heart. Later, you fall asleep nestled in his arms, the world outside forgotten, lost in the cocoon of your shared warmth.

You stare at the test in your trembling hands, the seconds ticking away with agonizing slowness. Three minutes—those eternal, cursed minutes—dragging you back to that moment in the forest when the thought of pregnancy filled you with dread. But now, everything is different. Now you want it, crave it with every fiber of your being, yet fear still lingers like a shadow in your heart, whispering what-ifs.

Your phone vibrates, breaking the silence, signaling that the time is up. You take a deep breath, steel yourself, and then you look. 

Two lines. 

Your heart skips a beat, and you blink, hardly believing it. 

Two lines.

You rush to show Yoongi, his eyes lighting up with pure joy as he sees the result. He’s elated, grinning like a child, and his happiness is contagious. You’re happy too, truly, but beneath the surface, that familiar fear curls, a silent specter reminding you of the past, of the heartbreak you’ve been through before. What if it happens again?

But the weeks pass, and you pack your life into boxes, preparing for the move as summer blooms. Now, four months pregnant, you find yourself with Yoongi wrapped around your little finger. He’s doting, tender, doing everything for you as if you were made of glass—cooking your meals, helping you dress, even braiding your hair with surprising care. He indulges your every craving, runs to the store for cake and candy at odd hours, holds your hair when the nausea takes over. His protectiveness borders on overbearing, but you can’t bring yourself to mind. It’s endearing, really, and you feel a warmth in your chest that’s as sweet as the candy he brings you.

On moving day, Yoongi insists you don’t lift a finger, so you supervise, directing your friends on where to place each box in your new home. It still feels surreal—this beautiful house is yours, truly yours. You rest your hand on your growing belly, not yet feeling the strong kicks you’re longing for, though you’ve sensed some faint fluttering. Perhaps it’s just gas, but still, the anticipation is almost unbearable.

After a day of grocery shopping, stocking the fridge and freezer with essentials, you find yourself craving ice cream late at night—the one with Oreo bits swirled through it. The craving grips you suddenly, fiercely, and you know there’s no ignoring it. You need that ice cream.

“Yoongi?” you call out, drawing his name in that sweet, almost sing-song voice he knows all too well.

He chuckles, already predicting your request from the way you’ve drawn out his name. Your cravings have become a nightly ritual, but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he loves it—loves you more than words can express.

“Yeah?” he answers, laughter in his voice, as you hesitate, almost shy to ask for something else after all the shopping you did today.

“I’m craving ice cream…” you murmur, unsure how he’ll react, knowing full well you’d already stocked the freezer just hours ago.

He sighs, but it’s a soft, amused sound. “The one with Oreo bits, right?”

Your eyes fill with love and gratitude, tears pricking at the corners. “Thank you!” you whisper, your heart swelling as he’s already up, grabbing his keys without a second thought.

You watch him go, overwhelmed with love for this man who would move mountains just to see you smile. When he returns, ice cream in hand, you greet him with a kiss, diving into the tub with abandon. Fifteen minutes later, the tub is empty, and you glance at him with a sheepish smile, wondering if he’ll have to make another trip. That’s when he decides to always buy extra, stashing it away in the freezer, ready for your next craving.

He’s your snack patrol, your guardian of midnight desires, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you happy, to keep that radiant smile on your face. After all, you’re carrying his tiny miracle inside you, and for him, indulging your every whim is the least he can do.

One evening, you stumble through the door after a long, grueling day at work, exhaustion clinging to you like a heavy shroud. All you want is to collapse into the soft embrace of your bed, to let the day melt away into dreams. But hunger gnaws at you, demanding attention, so you drag yourself to the kitchen, hoping to find Yoongi bustling around, preparing dinner as usual. Yet, the air is absent of the familiar, comforting aromas that typically greet you, and instead, you find Yoongi lounging on the couch, engrossed in a book.

“Didn’t you make dinner?” you snap, frustration bubbling up before you can contain it, the weariness in your bones making your temper short.

He glances up, confused, his lips parting to speak, but you cut him off, the anger spilling over. 

“You dick! You know I expect you to make dinner when I get home late,” you huff, the irritation morphing into something sharper, more biting. But before the anger can fully take root, it unravels into sobs, the tears pouring out uncontrollably, as if your exhaustion has found a new outlet. You’re crying so hard that you scare yourself, and Yoongi, too, who tosses his book aside and rushes to your side, wrapping you in his arms, his touch gentle and soothing.

“There’s leftovers, remember?” he whispers softly, his hand rubbing comforting circles on your back, his voice steady and calm, grounding you in the moment. 

And just like that, clarity washes over you. He’s right. Of course, he’s right. The realization of your misplaced anger makes you feel foolish, small. Lately, you’ve been snapping at him over the smallest things, calling him names in moments of frustration, but he always meets your outbursts with a patient smile, never holding your forgetfulness or emotional swings against you. He’s a gem, a steady rock in the midst of your storm.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his lips, and he returns it with such tenderness that you know, deep down, everything is going to be okay.

The months in your new home pass like pages turning in a cherished book, each one filled with milestones and memories. You’ve hosted a housewarming, celebrated your baby shower, and now, winter has settled in once more, December’s chill creeping through the air. Maternity leave is just around the corner, and you can’t wait to have the time to focus entirely on Yoongi and the tiny miracle growing inside you.

“I’m so fucking tired, Yoon,” you sigh, sinking into a chair, every breath feeling like an effort, exhaustion etched into every part of you.

“It’s okay, take a break. I’ll finish up the painting. Why don’t you go change clothes?” he suggests with a reassuring smile, but the frustration within you bubbles up again, spilling over before you can stop it.

“I look so ugly,” you cry, tears welling up as you take in your reflection, emotions surging in a wave. “I’m so fat, and my stomach feels like it’s dragging me down. I’m swollen everywhere, and I just look so ugly.” Your voice breaks, the tears falling freely, and Yoongi drops his paintbrush immediately, rushing to comfort you.

“You’re not ugly, babe,” he says softly, wiping away your tears with his paint-stained fingers, his eyes full of love and sincerity. “Those extra pounds just make you even sexier,” he adds with a playful smile, kissing the tip of your nose. “Please don’t speak ill of your body. I love you, and I love everything about your body.”

You sniffle, his words washing over you like a balm, soothing the insecurities that have taken root in your mind. You know he’s right, and you decide to believe him, because why else would he stick around through all your emotional ups and downs? “Thank you, Yoon. I love everything about you too.”

The nursery is ready, painted in a soft shade of lilac, filled with carefully chosen furniture. You’ve both decided that your baby girl will sleep in your room at first, so the nursery remains more symbolic than functional for now. But it’s been a labor of love, preparing for this new chapter in your lives.

As you gaze out the window, watching the snow pile up on the street, a sense of quiet anticipation fills you. Soon, so very soon, you’ll meet your miracle baby, and the thought sends a warmth spreading through you, cutting through the cold of the winter night.

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts @constancelayon @wobblewobble822 @ktownshizzle @moonchild1 @ultimatefangirl0 @baechugff @jimintaemin @parapiop7 @fckkntired @iluvfndms @citypop-princess @tarahardcore @bergandysam @massivelyfullenthusiast @tatyhend @gimeow

*if this fucking taglist doesn't work... I don't know what to do with myself. Hopefully you'll find it even though tumblr will probably be a bitch and not let it work...

Author’s note(2): I really hope you liked it! I hope it wasn’t too angsty 🥹 This was largely inspired by the song ‘Pregnant’ by Phlake. You should really give it a listen, it’s very explicit and cute, lol 😝 Please let me know what you think in a reblog, comment or ask. And if you’ve ever had a miscarriage— here’s an extra hug for you 🫂

[ayyy-pee]

𝔼ℙ𝕀𝕊𝕆𝔻𝔼 𝟚 - 𝕀ℕ𝕋ℝ𝕆𝔻𝕌ℂ𝕋𝕀𝕆ℕ𝕊 ℙ𝕋. 𝕋𝕎𝕆

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Last Episode - Masterlist

Pairing: JJK Men x Female Reader

Episode Summary: Introductions continue! Which one of these contestants will be the first to make an impression on your heart?

STORY TWIST: READERS WILL VOTE AFTER CERTAIN CHAPTERS TO CHOOSE WHO GETS A ROSE AND MAKES IT TO THE NEXT WEEK. KEEP A LOOKOUT FOR THE VOTING LINK AT THE END OF CHAPTERS

Story Warning: DRAMA, lying and scheming, REVERSE HAREM, profanity bc I can only be me, arguments, fights probably, heartbreak and tears, (more to come)

Artist Credit: momoya348, Umbra3terna, ilameys,maoyaoyao519, _0_0219, maron.jp Divider Credit: Cafekitsune (Tumblr)

A/N: sorry for the wait yall! i'd give you an excuse but i know yall don't care LMFAO. enjoy!!!

The ground is actually shaking as the King of Curses approaches you step by step. Suddenly, you feel a lot like the chauffeur from just a few moments before. Terrified, trembling and sweaty. He was smart, now that you think about it. Hell, you’d have run too if you could! Sukuna’s aura is so heavy, so scary, so damn intense you feel like you may vomit. You’re hoping the camera doesn’t catch the sweat that you can feel beginning to seep from your pores. Every step closer to you, you swear shaves half a year off of your life. And when he’s right in front of you, his four eyes landing on you, so full of disinterest and maybe a little disdain, you pray you don’t piss yourself on live television.

It’s only then that you begin to realize how incredibly massive this man…curse…is. You have to crane your neck, struggling to peer up at his enormous form. He folds his (again…FOUR?!) arms over his chest and frowns, deep and unsatisfied.

“They should teach you some manners, woman,” he grunts. His deep and gravelly voice sends a chill traveling straight up your spine, and you straighten up, causing Sukuna’s lips to curl down in further dissatisfaction. “You hold your head too high,” he speaks.

You raise a brow, and it must be the adrenaline coursing through your veins, because like an absolute idiot, you open your mouth and dumbly mutter, “How? You’re like ten feet tall.”

You could hear a pin drop, hear the way every single crew member inhales and doesn’t dare exhale that breath. You know the cameramen should probably pan over to catch what’s next, but they have more sense than you clearly, because they don’t deign to move an inch. It’s complete silence in the driveway as Sukuna’s gaze pierces yours.

This may be the end for you. And honestly? You’d be okay with that. Sad, sure, but you’ve lived a decent life. Aside from this very brief experience, it was nothing special. But it was comfortable, full of good times. If it’s meant to end here, you don’t think you’d be too upset about it. You just hope that they’ll do you the favor of censoring your probably gory and untimely demise.

Sukuna lifts an arm (one out of four…oh my God, will you ever get over that?), and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly.

‘Here it comes’, you think. The finishing blow. One shot from him and you’ll be wiped from this earth, a smudge on this world’s history. You’ll be forgotten shortly after your end and the world will move on without you.

You blame Utahime for this, because again, if you hadn’t listened to her drunk ass you would be sitting behind a desk doing paperwork. Not on the verge of death before the most powerful being of all time.

But after several seconds, you realize you’ve felt no pain, heard no screams or cries. But instead, a sound of something akin to a chuckle. You open one eye, peeking up to see Sukuna’s large hand come down to pat the top of your head. Gently, at that.

“Funny. I suppose I won’t kill you and your entourage.”

His eyes roam the landscape behind you and the confusion is clear on his face. You suppose it would be rather confusing for an ancient curse to see all the lights, large buildings and technology of today.

“What is this–” he waves a hand in the air. “This place? Why did you all bring me here?”

Now you’re confused. Didn’t he sign up for the show himself?

Satoru throws his head back, cackles hysterically. “I just thought it’d be fun!” A wide grin sits on his features as he leans back in his seat casually, as relaxed as ever. “Just imagine the strongest modern day Sorcerer alive and the strongest curse in history competing for love of all things.” He sighs, wiping at his eyes as he comes down from his laughter. “Fucking hilarious.”

He’s quiet for a second, then he doubles over, arms wrapping around his core as he succumbs to another fit of giggles. Suddenly, his laughter dies, then he’s throwing his head back in a groan this time. “Dammit. If he goes on a killing rampage, then I’ll have to work!” 

BACK OUTSIDE…

“It’s…The Bachelorette,” you answer Sukuna’s question, your fear slowly dissipating as your casual conversation continues on. Which may be a stupid move on your end. You should keep your guard up. This is the King of Curses in front of you, after all. From what you know, he loves to make someone feel safe only to literally crush them a moment later. 

But also, this is the damn King of Curses in front of you. If he deems it so, your death is already guaranteed. You couldn’t do shit if you had to face a normal curse let alone the strongest among them. 

The cameraman has finally panned around to capture your interaction and Sukuna doesn’t seem the least bit impressed. His expression is flat, very obviously bored. “The what?”

“The Bachelorette,” you repeat and when he fixes you with a deadpan stare, you elaborate further for some reason. “It’s a dating show. Jujutsu Sorcerers compete for the heart of one Bachelorette –” you point to yourself. “Me,” Sukuna frowns further and you match his expression with a frown of your own. “And– alright, don’t look so upset about it.”

‘The nerve of this guy!’

“Why would anyone waste time on this? Finding…love.” Sukuna spits the word out like it’s bitter before he laughs.

“A pointless venture,” Sukuna grumbles, picking at the paint on one of his many nails. Unfortunately, Sukuna’s size was severely underestimated, which is why the camera is only able to fit his torso into the screen. 

Behind the lens, the director asks shakily, “You don’t believe in love?”

“How would love benefit me? It’s for the weak.” He pauses, his scowl deepening as he folds his arms together. “I should actually kill you for asking me such an imbecilic question.”

BACK OUTSIDE…

“I won’t kill you since this pathetic endeavor you’re on for love will likely be punishment enough for someone like you.” He grins, the venom in his words clear as he speaks. He’s referring to you being a Window — weak, useless, undeserving of love and probably life to someone like him. Sukuna strokes his chin in amusement, eyes roaming along your form. “It will surely be entertaining to watch.”

He looks you over once more, and the fear that returns, rushing through your body makes you dizzy. You feel like you’re on the menu. One wrong move and Sukuna will be having you for dinner…and not in a sexy way.

But instead of acting on whatever temptation he may have, Sukuna simply…vanishes. Though you’re sure he took off and is just way too damn fast for your weak Window eyes to see. Either way, when you’re sure Sukuna is gone, you - and the entire crew - breathe a collective sigh of relief.

“Should we bring in the next contestant?” One of the staff asks nervously and you stare straight into the camera.

“I think I need a break,” you squeak.

Because you’re about ten seconds from shitting yourself.

- - - - - -

The next contestant pulls up shortly after returning from commercial break. You’re back in position at the end of the long red carpet as you wait for him. He exits his limousine quickly, like he’s got somewhere more important to be. And you’re not sure if this show is the important matter at hand.

He’s incredibly handsome, dressed in a nice suit that he adjusts as he makes his way towards you, face set in a serious expression. His deep brown eyes gaze down lifelessly past his large nose as he approaches and you suddenly feel as if you’re under a microscope, just waiting to be picked apart. There’s something unsettling about this man, something that’s putting you on edge. 

Is it normal to feel like someone is taking note of every small movement you make, every involuntary facial tic, even the look in your eyes and filing it away to use against you later? That’s what you feel this man is doing. Just collecting little things about you to throw into your face somewhere down the line.

His glossy black shoes seem to glide along the red carpet and the cameramen must also notice, because the lenses point right to his feet as he goes. He moves so quickly, you hardly have time to breathe before he’s standing before you. And now, you feel your nerves ignite. Suddenly, you feel you should watch what you say, because you can’t help but feel as though you’re on trial for something. And it makes sense because he opens his pretty lips to speak and his words immediately catch you off guard.

“Have you ever been convicted of a misdemeanor or a felony?”

“Um…” Your eyes dart to the camera, brows pulling together in confusion as you chuckle nervously. “No?”

But it’s clear he’s not joking, not a trace of humor in his face as the question hangs between the two of you. The man narrows his eyes, his tiny pupils becoming even smaller if at all possible. “And you’re telling the truth?”

You chuckle awkwardly, your mind screaming “what the actual fuck” on loop. “Ah– What happened to hello? How are you? My name is…”

“I know your name,” he cuts you off. Then he spends the next minute listing off facts about you. He says your name aloud, the sound of it on his tongue sending chills racing up your spine. He lists off your age, occupation, even your friends and their occupations. It’s all a matter of fact, because they are fact. He doesn’t get a single thing wrong.

You think this man is abrasive. Maybe a little scary. And definitely weird.

Weirdly sexy?

Something is so very off with this man, that much is apparent by the exhaustion in his eyes, the way he fidgets with his fingers even while they’re confined in his pockets. But something may be so very off with you as well because you’re finding this mini interrogation of his oddly arousing.

‘Oh my God, can you focus?!’

“And what’s your name?” You finally counter, blinking your filthy thoughts away.

“Higuruma Hiromi,” he states without a beat. His tone is clipped, his eyes assessing you curiously.

“I suppose I will take your word for it.” He nods, and you fix him with a look of confusion. He waves his hand in the air. “Your criminal record. I’ll accept you saying you’re not a convict of some sort.”

“Ah,” you nod. “Well, glad you decided to trust me,” you smile shyly, and Higuruma frowns.

“I didn’t. Judgeman did.” He gestures behind him, and your eyes follow the path to where an enormous, terrifying blob floats in the air. You’re not sure how you missed that. 

‘Probably because you were too busy undressing Hiromi with your eyes?’

You clear your throat, glancing up at Higuruma. The stitch-eyed curse behind him simply sits there, staring into space. “Seeing as there’s no cursed technique for me to confiscate from you, it’s safe to assume you’re of no actual threat here. And also unlikely that you’ve committed gross atrocities given you are currently starring in this television dating show. I would imagine they would complete a thorough background check on you.” 

Now you frown. “Are you saying that I’m boring?”

Higuruma shakes his head, the tiniest of smirks sitting at the corners of his mouth. “On the contrary. The fact that you’re so normal…it actually makes you all the more endearing.” Your heart rate picks up, his honesty and compliment(?) making you the slightest bit flustered.

He sighs, tilting his head back to look up to the night sky. Like he’s reminiscing about something. “I only recently came to be a part of this world, the Jujutsu world, and I miss my old shitty life sometimes.”

The sudden deep confession surprises you. You expected this way later down the road given how closed off he was just moments before. It seems a flip has switched now that he knows you’re not some crook out to commit heinous crimes. You’re grateful for it, as well.

You can relate to Hiromi a bit. You also had no reason to be a part of the Jujutsu world, and yet you’ve found yourself smack dab in the middle of it as you chase after love with some of the most powerful Sorcerers you’ve ever laid eyes on. These are men you would have never crossed paths with in your daily life. And now, they will be fighting (hopefully not literally) each other to have you in the end. 

“Well, I know this experience is so far from normal, but I appreciate you coming, anyway.” You bow slightly in his curse’s direction. “And thank you, Judgeman, for proving to Hiromi that I’m not a convicted felon,” you tack on jokingly.

This is apparently what was needed to break just the tiniest bit through Higuruma’s walls because the corners of his lips curl up just a bit more as he peers down at you. He mutters your name once more, reaching a hand out to take yours. “I’m beginning to think it wasn’t a mistake to come here. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

He takes his leave shortly after, and the director calls for another commercial break. You take this time to head to your trailer offset for a quick touchup on your makeup. As you sit in your makeup chair, you wonder how the guys are doing…

INSIDE THE MANSION

Satoru groans obnoxiously from his side of the couch, beside Nanami. “Is anyone else going to show up? I’m so bored!”

“You could always leave and go back to your actual job,” Nanami quips. “I’m sure The Strongest is needed literally anywhere else but here.”

Satoru puts a hand to his chest dramatically, mouth falling open with a gasp. “You are so mean to me, Nanami.” He grins, nudging Nanami with his shoulder. “You trying to get rid of the competition already?”

He’s met with silence from the blonde, who simply folds his arms and closes his eyes, choosing to ignore his senior.

“You’re hardly any competition,” Suguru snorts on the other side of Nanami.

“I’m the only competition here. Be serious,” Satoru argues, standing from his seat. “Who wouldn’t want to be with The Strongest?”

“Me, or really anyone who loves themselves,” Suguru deadpans.

Satoru rolls his eyes behind his glasses. “You’re an anomaly. Besides, you both know I’m right. No offense, but Nanami is frugal, stiff and kinda boring. You’re a wanted mass murderer with strange looking people as followers, and I haven’t met any of the other guys to know what they’re like, but I can bet–”

The door to the mansion swings open and in walks Higuruma. His wide eyes roam across the room, landing first on Suguru who assesses him with vague interest. Then Nanami, who only glances over to him briefly before resuming his position. Then Satoru, who stands with his hands in the air, obviously in the middle of making a point before Higuruma had arrived.

“Who the hell are you?” Satoru scoffs, unimpressed.

“Satoru–”

“Satoru–”

Suguru and Nanami chide in unison.

“Must you always be so crass?” Suguru questions, pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s been so long since he’d been in the presence of his former best friend, he’d forgotten how annoying he could be. 

“Higuruma Hiromi,” the newer man states as he moves across the room, not caring in the least about Satoru’s tone. He takes a seat on the sofa opposite of the three men, observing his surroundings.

“Nanami Kento,” Nanami introduces himself when the other two fail to speak up. He offers a seated bow, to which Higuruma returns.

“Geto Suguru,” Suguru’s soft voice floats across the room, though he doesn’t offer a polite bow the same way Nanami does. Perhaps if he were the old Suguru he may have, but he’s long past bowing to others. If anything, others should bow to him.

“Gojo Satoru,” the white haired man mutters, rolling his eyes.

Higuruma nods, eyes landing at the buffet in the corner of the large space, staring. “...And who is he?”

All heads turn to the buffet where a massive man stands with a plate of food. His face has stray grains of rice littered around his lips, which is stuffed with tonight’s dinner. He scoops a large spoonful into his mouth, nodding to the other men as he chews.

He’s tall, so tall that his height rivals Satoru’s. Shaggy, black hair covers the most beautiful green eyes. And when he grins, his pretty lips spread wide, the scar running through both his top and bottom lips accenting his features.

This man is gorgeous, they’re all thinking it.

Not to mention, he’s fucking ripped. A skintight black shirt hardly does much to cover every hard muscle of his body. His wide shoulders and thick arms look as though he could crush them all without much thought. And he could. He has.

“Zenin…” Satoru and Suguru speak through gritted teeth.

“Fushiguro,” the man corrects them, taking another bite of his food.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Suguru questions, standing from his seat. His eyes narrow, hands clenched into fists at his side. It’s been a decade since he laid eyes on the man who altered his entire world, and he’s not someone he wanted to see again. He’s lucky Satoru let him off with his life after their last encounter.

“Placing bets on who the broad out there ends up with,” the man laughs loudly with a full mouth. “Bet it’s none of you, though.”

At this, Satoru bursts into a fit of giggles, laughing so hard he doubles over. “I’ll take you up on that bet. Seeing as you’ve never won one in your life, should be easy for me.”

Toji only grins, taking another bite of his food.

“Please don’t tell me you’re also participating for her heart,” Suguru sighs, feeling a headache coming on.

Toji shrugs. “Does it matter?”

At this, Satoru groans, flopping back down on the couch with Nanami. “Who invited the damn geezer to the show? Thought this was for real Sorcerers.”

Nanami inhales deeply. “She’s not a Sorcerer, either,” he states.

“That’s different,” Satoru doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s a Window, so she’s in our world at least.”

It’s true. In Satoru’s eyes, you’re weak, but at least you have enough cursed energy to see the atrocities around you. You won’t see a curse only when you’re on death’s door, you’ll see one before they strike. And sure, you can’t do anything about it, but that’s what he’s for. He doesn’t mind playing protector to someone who at least resides on his side of the fence. It’s what he’s always done anyway. Why not do it for someone he could potentially love?

It also helps that you’re easy on the eyes.

“Hardly, but I do see your point,” Suguru agrees. He takes the spot next to Higuruma on the other sofa. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here for one reason, and it’s her.”

An obnoxious yawn comes from the other side of the room, Toji now leaning against the wall. “When does she show up, anyway?”

The other four look absolutely bewildered, eyes wide and brows pulled together. 

“What…” Suguru asks. “You didn’t go meet her?”

“Was I supposed to?”

“Yes!” Satoru yells from his seat. “How the hell did you even get in here? Past all the cameras?!”

Toji purses his lips together, scratching his head while he racks his memory. Then he shrugs, like he came up short. “Guess I followed the smell of the food.”

BACK OUTSIDE…

You fidget with your fingers as you watch as another limousine pulls up. You’re exhausted, and honestly ready for this whole introduction ordeal to be done. It’s so late, definitely after 9pm, and even after all this, you still have to head inside of the mansion to mingle with the men. You would really rather go to sleep, finally crawl into bed after such a long and tiring day. But there are several eligible bachelors eagerly awaiting your arrival.

And here comes another one.

The door to the vehicle swings open, and a very nice Prada combat boot hits the floor. Out steps the one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen in your life. Tall, muscular, and so damn pretty, you’re almost jealous. Even with the distance between you two, you can see how perfect his face is.

Already, he’s made an impression because he’s not dressed to the nines in a suit and tie like the other men you’ve met tonight. Instead, he wears casual clothing, with a loose sleeveless shirt and black jeans. His hair is messy, tied up into two high ponytails that sit atop his head. And even then, he looks just as good as the others.

Something about him looks familiar to you, though you can’t quite place where you could’ve seen him before all of this.

As the man approaches, the lights from the camera crew illuminate his face. You can make out deep purple bags that sit beneath his eyes. He looks as tired as Hiromi, more even. There’s a thick black stripe that runs along his face. A tattoo, maybe? He’s pale, the moonlight casting an almost ethereal glow over him.

‘Why the hell are all these Sorcerers so fucking hot?’

You try to keep it in your pants, focusing on the sound of the chains of this man’s boots jingling softly with each step until he’s standing in front of you. His deep brown eyes rake over your body before they find your eyes. His lips curl into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s not disingenuous any sort of way. More like he’s very nervous and trying very hard to not come off that way.

“Hi,” you throw him a lifeline, the camera capturing the way you smile encouragingly.

“Hi.” 

You offer him your name, trying to loosen him up because he looks like he feels so out of place. There’s something off about him that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“I’m Choso.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Choso. Tell me about yourself.”

Your question breathes life into the man, his face brightening up as he proceeds to tell you all about his brothers. He’s the oldest of four, you find out. And he’s very doting and loving to all three of his younger brothers. You find it adorable, the way he raves about each of them and their special talents that they have. Unfortunately, you don’t have too much time to let him continue.

“You’re very beautiful,” he compliments you suddenly, and you can’t stop the shy smile now spreading along your features that matches the one sitting on Choso’s. 

“Thank you. You are so handsome.” 

Choso beams, and then he does something that surprises you. He wraps his arms around your form, enveloping you in his warmth. He smells incredible, and expensive. You return the gesture, and for some reason, all the stressful buildup of tonight seems to just melt away.

When he releases you, you see the soft smile sitting on his lips and you just know you can’t wait to see more of it. This man is an absolute sweetheart.

“Can’t wait to get to talk with you more tonight,” he says softly, and you don’t miss the light dusting of pink coloring his cheeks now.

“Me too.”

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, nibbling at the soft flesh as Choso takes your hand and squeezes gently. What began as an awkward encounter ended up being a sweet meeting between you and the man now heading into the mansion. You’re so excited to–

Wait. You think you know why he looks so familiar!

You spin on your heel, turning to call after him. He turns to face you, a questioning look at his face. “Um…have you ever skateboarded before?” You yell across the courtyard.

At this, Choso’s brows pull together, head tilting to the side. He’s so obviously confused. “Skateboarding? No, why?”

You shake your head, chuckling with embarrassment. “No reason…you just…looked kind of familiar.”

- - - - - -

Jesse appears again once the cameras are set back up after another commercial break. He’s all poised as he grins at you. You haven’t seen him since you both first arrived on set, but he lets you know that he will be seeing you more often now that the introductions are complete.

“So, you’ve met all of the men,” he begins, the camera moving back to catch you both in frame. 

“Oh, that was everyone?” You could have sworn there was one more person who was supposed to show up.

“How are you feeling about them so far? Any you’re looking forward to spending more time with?”

Your mind goes through every man who has appeared so far, building a list of what appealed to you most about them. And you really like them all. There’s no way you could choose right now, not when there’s still so much to learn about each of them. You can’t wait to get some alone time. You tell Jesse as much, his response an amused shake of his head. “Looks. like you’ve got your work cut out for you, then.”

“Oh, absolutely. They’re all incredible. I could definitely see my husband being one of these men.”

And it’s a crazy thing to think, that at the end of all of this, you’ll likely be engaged and ready to marry someone.

“But—,” Jesse interjects. “You are down one contestant. Sukuna has chosen to leave the show…”

The camera moves closer to catch the nod of your head. Your brief stint with the King of Curses is not one you think you’ll forget any time soon, if ever. He could have ended this journey for you before it even began. He spared you, mainly for his own entertainment, but still. You came face to face with the King of Curses, and you of all people, lived. Not many can say that. Especially non-Sorcerers.

Jesse tells you that it’s time to get some one on one time with the guys and leads you to the mansion where they all wait. Your heart races in your chest as you approach the enormous doors, stopping just outside of them. You can hear the loud chatter inside, the men laughing raucously as they discuss whatever has them behaving so lively. You’re excited to finally be moving into this next phase of the process. You want to get to know each of them as soon as possible.

“You ready?” Jesse questions, his smile giving you a boost of confidence. “You’ve got this. Go in with an open mind, and an open heart. The man of your dreams awaits you inside.”

You laugh, and it’s all nerves, because that may be the scariest and most exciting part of this entire journey. “I don’t know how you did this, Jesse,” you chuckle dyly, to which Jesse lightly places a hand on your shoulder where he squeezes gently.

“Hey, you’re a smart girl. You’ll be able to find who you’re looking for. Remember…open mind, open heart. Can’t go wrong there.”

You swear you hear some of the staff swoon behind the camera, the crew sure to catch this interaction between you and your host, and it makes you grin. You can see why Jesse’s season of The Bachelor was so popular, and why he’s now the host of both franchises. So you nod, letting Jesse know that you’re ready to head inside to spend time with your men.

He pulls the double doors open for you and you head inside, straight through the doorway and into the living room where the men await. Jesse moves swiftly ahead of you, signaling for you to wait for a moment just outside of the living room, in the hall while he heads down the steps into the main room. 

”Gentlemen,” he announces his presence, and they all stand when they see the host. There’s an eruption of noise, the men greeting Jesse eagerly. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, knowing that in just a few moments, you’ll be seeing them all again. You can’t wait. 

“I know you’re all ready to see ___,” Jesse continues. “How are you feeling about her so far?” Jesse’s eyes land on the blonde man standing quietly, his hands hidden in his pockets to hide the way he fidgets nervously. “Nanami,” Jesse calls. “What’s your first impression?”

Nanami purses his lips together, carefully gathering his thoughts before he speaks. He’s unsure if there is a word that’s strong enough to describe how he felt about you upon first meeting. And he’s not sure if he’s capable of expressing how he felt upon laying eyes on you. Even still, he means it when he says, “An absolute beauty.”

The other men nod in agreement. “Definitely a sight to behold,” Choso adds. “Very sweet, too.” He says it with certainty, like there’s no doubt in his mind that you’re a kind person. He’d like to think that he’s pretty good at reading people. He’s been studying humans for quite some time, after all. You are one of the good ones, he’s sure of it. Your energy makes him feel comfortable, and he tells Jesse this as well.

Jesse beams, impressed with how the men already seem to be taken by you. “That’s great to hear. Now, I do have some unfortunate news or maybe it’s fortunate depending on how you see it.”

There’s a brief pause, which the camera crew uses to capture each contestant's face, making sure they capture any nerves on their features.

“One contestant has chosen not to continue participating in the competition.”

At this, Satoru snorts, garnering the attention of several others, but he lets Jesse continue.

“Sukuna has opted out of the competition.”

“Good,” Suguru interjects. “One less body.”

“Honestly, I couldn’t give a shit if someone left,” he yawns, leaning back against the confessional room’s sofa. “Send the rest of them home, too.” 

He’s aware he sounds like a dick, too confident in himself, but why shouldn’t he be? He’s got so much to offer you, so much that the others can’t provide. He’s confident that with one person gone, he’ll be able to get that much closer to you. He picks at his nails in boredom before he asks. “Who even invited him, anyway?” 

The wheels turn in his head until he puts 2 and 2 together, chuckling quietly to himself. 

“It was Satoru, wasn’t it?”

BACK INSIDE…

“Can we please circle back to the bit about Sukuna?” Nanami speaks up this time. “You just casually had the King of Curses outside to compete for…” He clears his throat, as though the term itself makes him uncomfortable. “Love”. His eyes land on Satoru, because he’s positive it couldn’t have been anyone else who could have thrown this together but him.

The man in question shrugs mischievously, poking his tongue out when his gaze meets Nanami’s. He tries not to smile too hard at the scowl he receives from his colleague in return.

“How on earth were we meant to survive that?” Higuruma chimes in now. His eyes are round with disbelief. “Wait…did ___ meet with him?” 

Jesse nods. “Yes, and they actually had a pretty pleasant conversation. Though Sukuna wasn’t interested in moving forward.” The camera pans over to Higuruma who now seems lost in thought, no longer paying the host much mind. Jesse takes this beat of silence as his cue to continue forward. “Well, our lady of the hour is waiting patiently to have some much needed one on one time with you. Let's get her in here.”

Now, that’s your cue.

You enter the space, feeling the tension rise between the guys immediately, even as they all applaud upon your arrival. Your eyes take in each and every familiar face. It’s nice to see all of the men you’ve had the pleasure of speaking with for a few brief moments. You can’t wait to get alone time with each —

Hold on a minute.

Your eyes land on one man who sticks out like a sore thumb. From across the room, right next to the buffet, a pair of emerald eyes bore into your own, and you feel your heart rate pick up. You’ve never seen this man before. At least you don’t think you have. You have met quite a few people tonight and it’s all been a bit overwhelming. It’s perfectly possible that he slipped your mind after meeting. Though as you drink in the way his eyes shimmer even in the dim lighting, his chiseled features and the deep scar through both his lips, you highly doubt you’d be able to forget a face like that. 

Perhaps he’s another staff member, hired to man the buffet table. If so, he’s doing a piss poor job at it seeing as he’s holding a plate of half eaten food in his hands. He has to be a contestant, right? How could he have gotten past you? Even with your embarrassingly small amount of cursed energy, you feel like you would have picked up on his presence.

The camera swings around, cutting off your vision of the man, and in the blink of an eye he's gone. There’s a pang of disappointment, and a bit of confusion. You feel as if you imagined him. But you don’t have time to dwell on the mystery man your mind conjured up, because you need to focus on the men who are actually here. You turn your attention back to the ones you do know… only to be met again with the face of the stranger from just seconds ago as he stands right before you.

You almost piss yourself from the shock.

His gaze now roams your form, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips. He’s incredibly obvious in the way that he assesses you. And even more obvious in the way he seems to be enjoying what he sees. He slips his hands into his pockets, eyes once again staring straight into yours as he backs away to stand with the other men. “Well,” he hums, not breaking eye contact. “I was gonna snag some food and head out, but I think I’ll stick around…to observe.”

“Sorry,” Jesse interrupts. “But this show is only for those who signed up to participate.”

The mystery man rolls his eyes. “I’m already on the list.”

Jesse shakes his head. “We didn’t see you outside. There’s a proper process to follow here. You’re supposed to meet our Bachelorette,” he motions to you, and you smile awkwardly. “Why didn’t you come through the front door?”

“I’m meeting her now, aren’t I?” He questions, and Jesse nods, because technically he’s not wrong.

“Well, yes, but you should have come through the front,” Jesse argues weakly. 

Toji snorts. “Front door,back door, doesn’t really make a difference to me.” He says this shamelessly as he looks right at you, and you can’t help it! Your mouth drops open, just enough to get a reaction out of the man. The camera quickly captures the grin that spreads on his face when he sees your expression. “Unless it matters to you, sweetheart,” he teases.

You pick your jaw up off the floor, the camera moving around to get your response. You can’t possibly let him one up you on your own show. So you match his smirk, teasingly responding, “I mean…let's wait until we get to know each other a little better to find out.”

It’s the best response you can give in the moment, in front of a room full of men patiently (and hungrily) waiting to get even a smidge of your attention. And clearly it was a good rebuttal. The man’s smirk only widens. You can hear the staff muttering quietly behind you, clearly speaking into the earpiece that you know Jesse wears. You watch as the cameras move to capture the tension between this man and Jesse, who is now pursing his lips together in displeasure. “Are you a…Sorcerer then?” 

He stares Jesse down, and you don’t miss the way his jaw ticks just barely before he grits out a low and gravelly, “sure”. But Jesse doesn’t seem to notice. He simply nods, asking his name.

“Toji Fushiguro.”

Jesse sighs, his friendly host mask slipping just a for a second before he recovers. He claps his hands together, turning towards you with a grin that you’re certain is not genuine in the least. 

“Looks like we’ve got another man vying for your heart, ___. How are you feeling about it?”

You tear your gaze away from Toji, nodding to Jesse. “Hey, the fun of the Bachelorette are the surprises, right? I’m definitely looking forward to getting to know Toji a little more.”

Jesse throws his head back with a laugh. “Glad to see you being a good sport about it! Speaking of surprises, we have just one more.”

The doors to the mansion swing open suddenly, cutting Jesse’s monologue off. The sounds of light footsteps fill the space, and you watch the way Toji crosses his arms, how Satoru rolls his eyes, and how Suguru’s nostrils flare. Clearly, whoever is entering the building isn’t welcome. 

Jesse continues his speech. “I know you were looking forward to having time to get to know each of these men one on one, and you will get that chance, I promise. But…”

The cameraman hurries to catch the sight of shoes, slowly walking down the same steps you took into the living space and you spin around to follow the view. As the camera slowly coasts up the form entering the room, so do your eyes, trailing over the tall, well dressed young man who appears before you.

“You’ve gotten a brief moment to talk to each man, have gotten a good feel for who you want to move forward with, I’m sure.”

It’s not really a question. Jesse states this as though it’s a fact, and as far as this show is concerned, it is. Even if you don’t feel as if you’ve gotten enough time with the men, they feel that you have. And all you feel is a tight knot forming in the pit of your stomach, because you’re sure whatever’s coming is bad news.

“You’ll still get your one on one time with each guy, don’t worry, but at the end of it all,” Jesse turns to face all of the men. “___ will be giving out a rose to each man she thinks should continue forward on this journey with her. However, only one of you will be leaving here without a rose.”

“And him?” Choso questions, staring down the man standing behind you.

“Ah, right. Everyone, meet Sukuna’s replacement.”

The man moves ahead of you, taking your hand in his and pressing a sweet kiss to your knuckles. He’s as beautiful as the rest of the men, and you wonder again how it’s possible for every damn person in the Sorcerer world to be so damn good looking. 

The man has a smile that reminds you a bit of Toji’s, but that’s the only resemblance he shares with the older man. The eyeliner around his eyes looks better than your own, accentuating the color of his eyes, and his hair that goes from blonde to brown at the tips hangs loosely in his face, giving him an edgy look. The multiple black earrings decorating his ears adds to his style, and your heart flutters when he leans forward boldly and presses another kiss to your cheek.

He stands back, letting himself fully appreciate the view. He strokes his chin lazily, nodding seemingly in approval before he mutters, “Not bad.”

Your brows knit together, head tilting to the side as you reply with a quiet thanks. You introduce yourself, gently pulling your hand from his grip. “It’s nice to meet you…”

The man shakes his head, a cocky grin on his face as he speaks. “I’m sure it’s very nice for someone of your…” He looks you up and down, almost amused at what he sees. “...standing to meet someone like me.” It’s all he says, turning on his heel and moving across the room to stand with the other men without another word.

‘Okay, kind of an asshole,’ you think. ‘A hot asshole, but–’

“I didn’t get your name,” you call after him, trying to reel your thoughts in.

He cards a hand through his hair smoothly. “Zenin Naoya.”

Jesse takes over, explaining that while the rose ceremony will still take place, Naoya will be immune as he is taking Sukuna’s place at the last minute. 

As your eyes roam across the room, taking in the sight of all of the men here competing for a chance at love with you, of all people, you can’t help but feel guilty that shortly, you’ll be having one on one time with each of them only to end up sending one home. They each have made your heart race, each have left an impression on you, each have made you feel something. You’re not sure if you could imagine sending any of these amazing men home.

The camera swings towards your face, capturing every bit of tension in your features as your mind reels with the idea of making such a difficult decision.

Your 1 on 1 time begins now,” Jesse announces. “And ___?”

“Yes, Jesse?” You respond, being pulled out of your thoughts.

Jesse offers you a tiny smile, this time it’s genuine. It’s a smile that understands exactly what you’re experiencing, what you’re feeling. He gently pats your shoulder as he moves towards the exit. “Good luck.”

It's Voting Time!!!

Follow the link below to vote for the Sorcerer you think should NOT receive a rose and move on to the next round!

COMING UP ON THE NEXT EPISODE OF BACHELORETTE KAISEN:

The guys get one on one time with you, and one man will be sent home without a rose! (Remember that Naoya is immune!)

CLICK HERE TO VOTE - Voting closes in ONE WEEK on 10/1!

[1moreff-creator]

DRDT CH2 EP15 First Impressions

46 minutes. Closing Argument inbound.

It’s time.

Spoilers for CH2 EP15. CW: Hanging, murder, references to eating disorders, strangling, blood and wounds.

I actually wasn’t home when this started airing, but I got there literally five minutes after the hour so… Wee!

Before I jump in: I think the time frame of 46 minutes points to Ace NOT being the culprit, since it feels too long for just him, but it’s impossible for us to know yet. I’d say I still think he’s more likely than Eden, but only barely.

Ace: “Are you kidding me?” Isn’t that a different sprite from the end of Ep14? Hilarious if true.

“That’s so inane-“ Big vocabulary words!

Eden: “No… It must have been Ace. The more I think about it, the more I’m sure.” GIRL WHY ARE YOU SO SUSPICOISY?!?! (<- I noticed the typo but it illustrates my mental state atm).

“He was the one stalking me!” Huh? Wait so that wasn’t just Teruko? Wait wait wait how long does Eden think Ace was stalking her for?

“I always had the feeling that someone was following me around.” For how long? Ace was unconscious in the referenced scene!

[Rose agrees with Eden] Everyone’s jumping too fast I don’t think Ace is the culprit chat. It might be Edenover actually.

Ace: “That was not me, and you have no way of proving it.” I know! Everyone’s jumping way too fast to this conclusion!

Teruko: “There’s a very narrow window when the fish could’ve been taken” (Paraphrased). FISH ALIBI! But it’s way too early to be decisive, there’s forty fucking minutes left. Still, I want to know; Nico, did you eat with Hu and Eden or not?

“Any earlier, and Nico would have noticed the missing fish.” How many people know about Nico’s account btw?

Veronika: “And isn’t that why you took the fish at all? To frame Nico?” Yo that’s what I thought! Vero and I think alike! (<- This means bad things for me).

Veronika: “Yes true.” Look at that little smile :)

[J and Levi discuss Ace’s mindset to take the tape] Yeah this is the hardest part for Ace!Culprit.

Eden: “He did run off very quickly…” asjgeb (I’m losing the ability to form coherent thoughts).

“Ace had a whole day to figure out the murder.” (P.) Me and Teruko think alike again!

“Why *were* you in the gym…?” I’ve heard this question before! Teruko thinks like thebadjoe! Different context sure but they’re both smart so it checks out :)

[Levi rebuts] Yeah… the tape-taking’s still weird.

Ace: “…” Ooh, someone’s still feeling things at being defended by Levi!

“No one can prove this but yourself.” True, that’s the main issue with this line of reasoning, and why I haven’t been putting much thought into it.

“…you took the tape for first aid.” ivibells thinks like Teruko! (Check comments of linked post). Was not expecting that particular line of reasoning to show up. I wonder if Teruko’s been forced to use tape for first aid in the past? Would make sense.

“I do it all the time.” Oh yeah she does lol. Shit that happens with this format of reaction post :p

“Devil’s Pubes” Okay funny, but is “Devil’s Proof” a commonly used term? Reminder to me to look into a thing.

{Looked into it. Yes it’s a commonly used term. Proceed as normal}

“(visibly shaking)” New Whit sprite! Also super funny.

“Tch…” Ooh… New Ace sprite! And it’s cool!

Interesting lines around here, just don’t have much to say.

Teruko: “Show me your neck scars.” What the fuck is she cooking?

Ooh, now Ace is looking super sus…

There was blood on Ace’s hand, not just a saturation glitch! Good catch venus-is-thinking and accirax!

Teruko: “Even if you’ve been pretending that you’re fine, it still hurts. Right?” No genuinely where the fuck is she going with this.

I noticed this in the last episode too, seems like the dev’s grown fond of chest closeups for emotional moments. Interesting!

“…you would know to tape Arei’s hands…” Teruko this isn’t evidence. Like, you may be 100% right, but this isn’t evidence.

“That’s the dumbest bullshit I’ve ever heard!” Honestly yeah. Teruko’s reasoning here is sorta crazy.

“You seem stressed. They’re only wounds.” Veronika is being a good ally to Teruko out of nowhere but we love to see it.

Yay unhinged Vero laughter! I love that voice clip.

Nico: “…” “Sorry” as a voice clip? Huh? I thought they weren’t sorry-? I’m confused, I’ll maybe look into it after we get through the main event.

Also the more time passes without explaining the pieces of evidence left, the worse it’s looking for Ace.

[Teruko backing down.] Actually pretty cool character moment. Yeah she would understand almost dying sucks, and with the way things are going, her word would always go kinda uncontested at this point in the trial.

Ace: “Woow, Ace is actually being helpful!” The sass is immaculate. I have no idea where this trial’s going yet!

“There’s something wrong with thinking the murder was done to frame Nico.” (P.) Oh shit is he gonna bring up the fact that taking down the pulley system and hanging Arei from the swing set makes no sense in that context?

“There’s no way I could have accessed turpentine…” Ah, so not that. Bad line of reasoning my guy, imo. Still curious to see the answer to this debacle.

Hu: “You’re always attacking Nico like this!” Bro.

Nico: “I still have the turpentine in my room. I’m sorry.” Kinda huge. Also, they did apologize to Rose when they didn’t apologize to Ace. Nice character building and huge W for the Rosenico enthusiasts.

“Obviously.” First David line and he’s already calling someone an idiot! Fun stuff.

“I-di-ot.” Why does David get so many good lines?

“You are a jockey. And that’s a fact.” Charles with the groundbreaking revelations!

“That means you strong.” (P.) Yeah according to strength chart the guy is the third strongest cast member. Even above Arei. Hmmm… Foreshadowing or not?

Ace: “If it wasn’t arm wrestling against Xander, nah I’d win. Wait that’s not the point!” (P.) Fucking hilarious character this guy!

“You could have strangled Arei unconscious.” (P.) Yeah I never got the argument that turpentine was required for unconsciousness. The hanging would have covered wounds on her neck.

“Full offense, but Ace is too much of a wimp to kill with his bare hands.” (P.) David’s funny and that’s not new. What’s also not new is him being confusing even when he’s not actively stirring up shit. Do you want to lose the trial or not? Do you think Ace did it or not? Why are you like this?

Charles: “Your [David] input is unnecessary.” I’m gonna miss Charles when he gets poisoned by strychnine in CH3.

Interesting discussion around this part, I just don’t have much input and it’s been an hour and I still have 30 mins of video to go :v

Nico: “Why was Arei hanging from the swing set?” Thank you.

Teruko: “Pinning the crime on Nico is plan B but also the main plan.” (P.) I figured, but how smart are we assuming Ace to be again?

Eden: “Is Ace even capable of doing a feat of strength like that?” And THAT’s innocent behavior. It MIGHT be Aceover.

[Eden continues defending Ace] It’s Aceover.

“If you can talk, the neck wound isn’t so serious.” (P.) We’re back with another round of “character speaks with way too much authority about something super weird!” How many neck wounds have you seen, Teruko?

Rose: “Isn’t Ace kinda weak?” Why are we roasting him- Never mind it’s Ace he gets roasted daily. Proceed.

“He was beaten by Xander-“ Yeah ‘cuz Xander’s a freak- “and he’s small and doesn’t eat a lot.” (P.) Uh… Rose… did you forget what his secret was or did you not realize that this might be a bit insensitive?

J: “Seconded. He’s a scrawny little guy.” While dunking on Ace is kinda funny, if Ace can’t hoist Arei up with the spinny thing, then we’re kinda fucked unless Levi!Accomplice rises from the ashes from out of nowhere.

J: “Isn’t Ace… too stupid?” I love that this is an actual argument that not only the fandom used, but the characters brought up as well :p

Ace: “…” PFFT-

The voice acting in the following section is fucking fantastic all around. Also Ace accidentally fucking himself over out of anger at being insulted is hilarious.

Ace: “…What?” Another new sprite, and I still have no idea where this is going in terms of culprit! How?!?!

Again all the voice acting is just fantastic. And also this is kinda funny.

Charles: “I disagree with Ace.” Yeah “he’s weak and stupid” isn’t great reasoning.

Whit: “Plus you call me stupid all the time.” Charles tsundere confirmed?! (Trick question: It always has been confirmed).

Charles: “When other people [judge with intelligence bias], it truly gets on my nerves.” Interesting character tidbit here, wonder if there’s a bigger reason for that or not.

“I’m the only one reasonable enough to do that.” (P.) Oh there was a reason PFFT-

“Will you test his IQ…?” (P.) Charles really hit them with “nice argument senator, why don’t you back it up with a source?”

[Charles and Levi team up to explain jockeying] Interesting team up, and good points! I guess Teruko’s been hogging that brain cell a bit too much these last few episodes, so it makes sense for it to be Charles’ turn, huh?

Whit: “The Kuning-Dooger effect…” Charles: “Not what it’s called.” HHAHAHA!

Charles: “Ace is the killer. Don’t refute me unless you like being incorrect.” (P.) Wow that is certainty goddamn!

“Then simply do not be wrong in the future.” Yo why’s he so funny for?

My brain is kinda fried as Ace and Levi continue to argue the point, but “between you and me, we both know who’s really a murderer” is kinda crazy.

[Non-Stop Debate] WOOO!

[Truth Bullet: Laundry Ball] Oh? Are we gonna talk about getting the rope over the rafters? Or am I wrong to assume that’s how this was used?

“In the context of Nico’s murder” (P.) Love the little arrow to Nico xD

“Nico hung Ace by stepping on a stepladder…” (P.) I think I know where this is going!

[Truth Bullet Fired] YEEAH BABY!

We’re putting the image in a fifth post! >:D

“If you starch it up with laundry starch…” (P.) Aww… there goes thebadjoe’s idea on the starch. I kinda liked it, but this makes sense too. At least I called it as a possibility in that post I linked before! Kinda…

“How could I have thrown it?” (P.) Slingshot idea coming in? I don’t know how the episode still has like twenty minutes left if that’s the case. Maybe the Closing Argument is much longer than I’m expecting?

Arturo: “But there’s other evidence you threw it up there.” Oh yeah I kinda forgot the lights were part of it :v

Ace: “Bullshit.” It’s Aceover. Breakdown! Breakdown! (<- Reference to the theory that the JoJo’s song from the playlist refers to Ace).

The Ace shouting scene (that doesn’t narrow it down but you know what I mean) is fantastic, since the voice acting is on point as usual. We’re really spoiled in that aspect. And Ace’s victim complex is on full display, it’s really cool.

ARGUMENT ARMAMENT?!?!?! OH IT’S SO OVER! The art is really cool! :D

By the way, I’m gonna call that the final attack will be the elastic band thing Ace took from the gym in CH2 EP2 for the slingshot idea on the ball of clothes.

All the lines here are pretty standard, but I like them!

[Using a slingshot] Wooo! Last minute theory was correct! Shoutout that Reddit user who figured this out around the same time I did (again linked in the “select two” post I’ve already put a link to). Great minds think alike!

Teruko: “It’d be impossible for anyone to throw the weight…” (P.) Yeah right who would believe such a thing (<- Genuinely argued Eden could have potentially done it).

“Specifically, you could have made a slingshot out of this.” [Shows elastic band] Teruko where were you keeping that? Up your ass? Who brought this to the trial room?

[Levi explains, mechanism shown] Oh that mechanism makes significantly more sense than anything I was coming up with :v Still got three main idea though!

Ace: “You’re lying to verify Teruko’s made-up story!” Oh oh, someone’s desperate…

By the way the glove has yet to be explained and I find this very funny.

Ace: “Where would I have stored the water jugs?” (P.) …In the playground with literally the entire rest of the mechanism?

“SHUT UP, ACE!” SLAY TERUKO!!!

“We determine who lives and dies by majority vote…” (P.) New sprite? New cool sprite? Also, this line reminds me; do y’all think Teruko will received two votes again? I think she will.

“The point of the trial…” Also a new sprite I think? And I’m loving Teruko here, but how is this gonna lead to a Closing Argument? :v

“Are you silent now?” So many new sprites! New Ace sprite right after too.

[Ace giving up] Didn’t wanna comment because augh… this hurts… My heart goes out to all you Ace stans out there. I know you guys have a reputation as some of the most dedicated fans around, so I hope y’all are doing alright. I liked Ace quite a bit too, so this also hurts a lot on my end, but damn…

“Who do you think I am, you?!” Well at least he got one last good shout at Hu in :,D

Veronika: “What do you mean?”

Ace: “I’m definitely gonna die if I don’t escape. Everyone hates me, right?” (P.) Oh, wasn’t Veronika who told him that? That constantly picking fights would get him killed? I wonder how she’s gonna feel about that, if it’s explored. Genuinely curious, Vero’s hard to read.

“Veronika was right.” Yeah I really should let the dialogue play more often, huh :p? What I said stands though.

“A part of me wishes Nico had succeeded.” (P.) AGH!-

“But still!” New sprites going crazy!

This entire trauma dump is more or less what I imagined Ace’s motive would be. Super sad still, goddamn I can’t wait for his Bonus Episode if he gets one. My guy needs to talk to Good Person Mai stat.

“…I’m a coward who can’t fight my own fate.” FATE THEMES GO INSANE!!!

Eden: “But that’s so selfish!” Man I’m actually really glad I can stop reading Eden’s lines with suspicion now. I always kinda felt bad about it even if I thought the evidence against her merited it :v

[J’s response] You know, accirax and venus have been counting the amount of times J has been anti-murder and they were (as usual) cooking hard. I don’t know why she gets all the “murder’s bad” lines, but it helps build my “J will become primary support” agenda so.

“I know that.” Auch.

“Arei… She was a piece of shit, too.” Is he about to reveal he heard the last of the Arei-David conversation.

Also “good person” drop! Probably one of the last of the chapter!

“But at least she was trying. […] I really am a piece of shit, huh?” So. Much. Pain.

“Oh my. How tragic.” Holy shit Veronika smiling after no one denies Ace sucking is crazy. I know it’s far from the most concerning thing she’s done but this feels so sinister. I guess she doesn’t even care that she might’ve planted the idea of murder in Ace’s mind, huh? I love her <3

“… just vote already!” Are we even gonna have a Closing Argument at this point? Who the hell is gonna ask for a full recap? Eden for the memory of Arei?

Teruko: “Allow me to go over the case…” Ah alright. Protag knows she’s gotta protag I guess xD

“Sorry. But it has to be done.” Okay she actually has trope knowledge what is this.

4 Minutes for the Closing Argument… about the same as last time I think? Maybe a bit shorter?

Also the glove is just straight up not going to be explained huh. I imagine the scuffs on the floor will be shown but you know.

[Ace overhearing Eden+Arei] Btw I know some people missed this: the note sent to Arei explicitly mentions what secret Eden got, which didn’t get brought up in Arei-David. Yes, Ace has to have overheard both of them.

“He was originally planning to kill Eden.” …Nice argument senator why don’t you back it up with a source?

Like genuinely where did that deduction come from? Again, Eden never said how long she felt she was being followed for. It could have only started after this. It’s apparently not wrong, but it’s still a pretty large assumption on Teruko’s part.

[Mechanism Images] Yoo high quality ball over the rafters picture!!! It became canon!!!

[Jug picture] Oh that’s how that worked. Yeah I always had a bit of trouble imagining exactly how the jugs would have been tied to the rope.

[Arei follows the note] Oh she went out without her glove! She just never put it on that morning! For no particular reason! That is the funniest possible conclusion to that particular mystery xD

“Ace cut her free…” …With? I guess he just bit the rope lmao. (He probably just had like a knife or something.)

[Ace over the swing set] PFFT- Okay to be honest, the question of “how do you even physically get Arei up there?” had always bothered me a bit (it’s a lot harder than you might think to visualize), and I was expecting it to be a kind of “don’t think about it too hard” situation. But seeing this as the actual solution is fantastic.

[Trial Close]

Wait are we not gonna talk about the- the scuffs on the floor? I- Wait- How did-

I guess I was right to just assume they were supposed to be a vague indication of struggle as opposed to anything more specific xD

-

General Thoughts

I feel a sense of… weightlessness. It’s over. The mystery’s over. Levi!Accomplice, Eden!Disguise, J-Arei Swap (I’m assuming that’s dead don’t quote me on it), J!Culprit via the screening room with the remote, “David manipulated someone into murder,” all the other theories that came of this… all shall pass on as fun AU ideas that never came to be. Alas, Ace!Culprit reigns supreme.

The episode was awesome. Less of a roller coaster like the last few have been, more like a linear plunge into sadness. I’ve run out of words to describe how incredible these episodes are, but all the praise I gave the other episodes applies to this one as well.

The star is obviously Ace, and man, despite how horribly sad the Ace fans must be feeling, at least we got fed this chapter. Genuinely felt bad for him even though as J said what he did is pretty unjustifiable. So many interesting things to explore all around for him, and quite a few other characters as well. Just… a feast. I’ve been considering making a fully cohesive post talking about the entirety of CH2 PT2 in more detail than I’ve gone over in these reaction posts, and I’m pretty sure this episode cemented that as a really solid idea.

Theory Discussion

Well the crime’s solved, but since I am the “Local Min Jeung Kinnie,” maybe it’d be appropriate to grade myself on how well my theories panned out?

I will skip talking about the Nico-Ace situation because my ideas for it were completely insane as a result of the vast amounts of evidence that just… didn’t matter. I was right that Nico was the only attacker, but I shared this opinion with like half the fandom at least, so.

The Arei murder is the main course, and frankly… I’d say I did pretty well! All things considered.

Looking back at my Eden!Culprit Levi!Accomplice theory from a year ago, although I got the complete wrong culprit and threw in an accomplice that didn’t exist, the method itself was strikingly similar provided you correct the oddities that removing an accomplice brings. Hell, a lot of the deductions from my very first post on this came true. Crime happened in the morning, ball of clothes over the rafters for the lights and setting up the pulley system, done with the handlebars of the spinny thing (kinda missed what the tape was for, but at least I knew it was there), water jugs to weigh down Arei, scuffs on the floor indicating a struggle to subdue Arei before hanging her, and while the exact method of stopping the fall was a bit different, using a stopper rope is similar enough to tying a knot that I’m willing to give myself partial credit.

I still stand by the fact that, at the time, it was unreasonable to assume Ace could have picked up the tape. Yes, it’s what happened; doesn’t mean that it seemed horrendously unlikely with what we had at the time. Still, once Ace was officially brought up as a suspect in Ep14, I’m going to give myself partial credit for last-minute switching (sort of I was only suspecting Ace over Eden by a hair) to the real culprit and figuring out the slingshot trick alongside the aforementioned Reddit user.

So, I’ll say I passed! Am I bragging? Maybe. Deal it.

You truly were magnificent, DRDT CH2 case. I shall never forget you for as long as I live.

If you made it this far, congrats. Now let us cry together, for our favorite horse boy is about to leave us forever… after he says his secret quote (which is probably next episode) and the Bonus Episode with Mai hopefully.

(Dammit it that means we still won’t get context on the Eden Mai quote I was kinda looking forward to that T_T)

Thanks for reading! Bye!

[sugarphoenixlovesfanfic]

better off without me ◦ . ◦

synopsis: Aventurine thinks he knows what's best for the both of you. a/n: angsty oneshot I wrote based off of a prompt from here. tags: angst, aventurine, aventurine x reader, sad ending

ao3 link here!

You watch as the blond gambler saunters into the house, acting as if his very presence didn’t make your heart bloom and wilt simultaneously. 

“Did you miss me, sweetheart?”

The last few weeks blur in your mind. All those days and nights anxiously watching your phone, waiting for a text. A call. A note. Anything to let you know he’d be back, or that he was doing fine, or that he was thinking of you. Maybe even an “I’m missing you” but, clearly, for the gambler that was too much. 

You thought he had changed. You thought maybe there was something blooming, between the long nights and the expensive gifts. 

With the way the gambler was acting, as though nothing had changed, despite not returning any of your messages for weeks, there was nothing.

You ball your fists, tears stinging your eyes, as you rise from the living room couch and come to stand a couple feet away from him.

“Where were you?” you demand, trembling. “Where were you all this time?”

You see a hint of an emotion pass through his face. Could swear that it was guilt, sadness, pity. Even self-hatred. But just as soon as it had come, it was gone, and he was back to his strange grin.

“Don’t you remember? I told you I was going on an assignment before I left.”

“Why didn’t you return any of my calls? Or my messages?” Hot droplets trail rivers down your cheeks, pitter-pattering on the ground. “You could’ve let me know you were okay. Or alive.”

“I was busy, darling. I couldn’t—”

You smack him across the face. 

“Busy? Too busy for me?” You practically scream at him. The impact of your hit knocks off his serene mask, and now he’s looking at you with a stunned expression. “You didn’t have time for just one text back. Just one!

“Just one would have been enough,” you sob, pulling away and clapping a palm over your mouth as though you were trying to stem an open wound.

Aventurine looks away, and this time the expression of guilt doesn’t fade away when it comes. You stand there, waiting for an answer or an explanation, or even an angry insult. Anything. But the gambler doesn’t say anything.

“Do you even care about me at all? Did you ever care, all those nights? All the times we hung out? All those gifts you sent me?” The tears blur your vision now, and you wipe them away.

The gambler still doesn’t respond. 

“Say something!” you yell.

“No, you’re right,” he says, and if your heart was already broken it felt as though he ground the pieces into the dirt with his heel. “You’re right. I’ve been terrible to you.”

“No, that’s not what I wanted to hear,” you say, almost too choked up to speak. “That’s not what I want. I want you to apologize, tell me you’ll try harder next time.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t deserve me,” Aventurine says, looking at you. “You should move on.”

“No!” you yell. Why was he just giving up so easily? “I want to save us, why don’t you understand? Why won’t you try to hold on to us like I am?” 

Aventurine goes quiet again, and you can’t handle it anymore, your body wracking from each sob you let out. 

“Fine. Leave. Go. And never come back again.” The words are barely perceptible in between your cries.

Aventurine freezes for a moment, looking at you as if to verify that this wasn’t a joke. When you don’t respond, he moves towards the door, and you watch him. Just before he leaves, he pauses, looking back at you for a long time, as though committing your form to memory.

And then he’s gone.

You crumble to the floor, crying and sobbing and wailing until you’re exhausted and empty.

♤♤♤

Aventurine looked at the text you sent.

How’s your assignment going? I miss you.

He sighed. It had been five hours since he touched down on this planet, and here you were, checking up on him.

He didn’t hate it. In fact, he loved it. It’s took every ounce of his strength not to reply to you. 

But that was precisely why he couldn’t let himself reply.

The arrangement was meant to be temporary, noncommittal. He’d drop by for a night or two, then move on. Two nights became three, an afternoon became an evening, and a quick text became an hour long conversation. It wasn’t long after that he’d begun to shower you with gifts and affection throughout the day.

During one of your conversations over text, he’d typed in that’s what I love about you into the text bar.

Love? No, this was never supposed to turn into love. 

But one thought turned into another, and suddenly he was recounting all the things he loved about you in his mind. I love your smile. I love your laugh. I love when you pout because something hasn’t gone your way. I love, I love, I love.

And then the thoughts of everything between the two of you flooded over him. The way he bought you gifts, the way you smiled at him, the way you checked on him throughout the day, the way he loved curling up with you at night. 

Disastrous. No one was ever supposed to love him, least of all you. He was a hot mess of a man, distrustful and beaten and broken through and through. He was hateful, and awful. Unloveable.

He hit backspace, erasing what he had written. Replaced it with lol yeah. And decided then and there and he would slowly start to end things. 

To protect you from himself.

So he’d text you a little less throughout the day. Stopped giving you gifts. You didn’t notice it, because it was only a week and then he went to his assignment, where he decided he would cut it all off, then and there. 

He watched as you texted him, and then didn’t respond. Watched as your texts turned from joyful, to confused, to sad, to desperate. You didn’t stop texting him, though. You texted him almost everyday. Ironically, Aventurine realized what the full extent of your love was as he was cutting you off, but he couldn’t turn back now. It was better this way, he told himself. You were better off without him. 

But when he came back, he realized he couldn’t keep himself away from you. He had to see you one last time.

So he paid you a visit, deciding to act as though nothing was wrong, just to twist the knife a little. To make sure you would absolutely hate him. And then when you told him to leave, he left. But not before giving you one last glance, memorizing your form in his mind, your tearstained cheeks he could kiss every day for the rest of his life, your wet eyes he could stare into forever. The anguished look on your face he desperately wished he could turn into a smile.

But there was no turning back now.

You’re better off without him. Yes, that’s what he tells himself as he lays in bed tonight and holds his phone to his heart, your past text messages displayed on the screen. That’s what he tells himself as a single tear falls from his lashes, wetting the pillowcase beneath him. 

You’re better off without him.

dividers by @cafekitsune!

reblogs and comments appreciated!

[baddybaddyadardaddy]

Okay, I'm going to make a wild prediction about Adar and Galadriel in Episode 8, so strap in.

An overarching the/major motif of the Rings of Power from the very first episode has been, obviously, the interplay between darkness/light.

"To find the light, we must first touch the darkness." / "Before light, darkness must flee, etc."

Adar and Galadriel together are a manifestation of that duality between light and dark and accordingly, I think there's a compelling case for them to team up against Sauron at the end of Season 2.

Here's my attempt at this argument:

PARALLELS BETWEEN ADAR AND GALADRIEL

The show has established a few strong visual parallels between the two of them.

Mourning ritual. Galadriel mourning for Finrod in S1Ep1 is echoed by Adar's mourning of the Uruks in S2Ep7. They even mirror the single tear.

What's more, Galadriel bears WITNESS to Adar's funeral ritual, enforcing the connection of this moment.

Seed planting. Frankly, my jaw hit the floor when S2Ep2 had Galadriel planting seeds in the memorial garden in Lindon, because the shots/framing were almost IDENTICAL to the seed planting Adar does at the beginning of S1Ep6. The sentiments of both instances are the same "life over death," though the words do differ.

Flip sides of the same coin/mirror to one another. The show has also presented us with many instances where they function as mirrors to one another. If not signficant, why do?

Barn scene. The barn scene in S1Ep6 is a PRIME example, when Adar literally calls Galadriel out for the hypocrisy of her hatred of the orcs.

The dinner scene. Adar once again holds up a mirror to Galadriel, pushing back against her notion that "you yielded to him. I resisted." Then they have the shared acknowledgement that without Sauron, the world seems a "dull grey" (GREY, interestingly, a halfway point between dark and light). Adar's face in response to her admission will live rent-free in my mind forever-- it's like he's been SEEN for the first time in his life.

So while Galadriel sees herself as a warrior of light, and views Adar as a creature of darkness, the show does a pretty superb job of showing that both of these characters have light and dark within them in equal measure.

They were both tempted by Sauron and succumbed.

So there is a clear, thematic link between these two from that standpoint.

ADAR'S JOURNEY TOWARD THE LIGHT

Next, I think it is clear Adar on a path toward light/redemption as an elf, and it tracks in a VERY LITERAL SENSE.

First time we see Adar, he is bathed in an angelic light. As he performs the funeral ritual for Magrot, light streams into the Uruk tent.

The shot at the end of S2 Ep1, when the camera lingers on Adar as Gil-Galad's call to the Eldalie commences. Adar feels the undeniable call to his elven past. That camera shot was NOT A COINCIDENCE, and I'm FOREVER FERAL ABOUT IT.

Cavalry charge at the siege of Eregion. Adar is OBVIOUSLY backlit:

There is a dividing line between light and shadow an Adar is RIGHT on the border of it.

When he steps up to take possession of Nenya, the sky behind him is split between a darker side and a lighter side. (You can argue that it's a CREEPY light, but it's still light. There is almost no all-black coloring on him in that second frame when he actually has the ring. For a character that's been head to toe in black the entire series, this is Significant.)

So where does that leave us for the big Sauron smackdown?

My first wild prediction: In an INSANE reversal, Galadriel will be the one to bring Morgoth's dark crown to the confrontation, while Adar will wield Nenya, a symbol of light.

It's not inconceivable that Gal could have smuggled it out of Adar's camp somehow under her oversized Uruk cloak. And Adar, OBVIOUSLY now possesses Nenya at the end of S2Ep7.

I think the fight between Galadriel and Sauron is ACTUALLY a three-person fight; we just haven't seen Adar in the promos because

1. Obvious plot spoilers and

2. HE WILL BE FIGHTING IN A FAIR FORM BECAUSE NENYA WILL HEAL HIS CORRUPTION.

My second wild prediction: This three-person fight is telegraphed in The Last Temptation. There's a new motif (not musical, so unclear if this is the correct term??) that starts around 1:07. It sounds like an aggressive children's choir. Interspersed, we get some of Gal's themes and Sauron-flavored music. I think this new bit could be either a combined theme for Gal/Adar fighting side by side, OR a new motif for a changed/elven Adar. It's aggressive, which to me tracks with Adar's fighting style that we saw through S2Ep7, and it builds and gets more voices added to it as the song progresses. At one point, it blends perfectly with Gal's theme.

Third wild prediction that I hope I'm wrong about: Adar will likely get fatally stabbed during this fight. I could see him giving Galadriel the ring at a crucial moment, in as a redemptive act, which would forfeit any protection it might have offered him, and I think he'll receive a fatal blow from Sauron, but not before we get a much clearer picture of EXACTLY who Adar is. IF they do it this way, it will be a deeply satisying end to Adar's story arc, IMHO.

Last thoroughly unhinged thing I will leave you with:

Nolwa Mahtar translation (from S1), according to Bear's blog:

Finish the war, the darkness, end this suffering

Impossible to pursue, deep in shadow, follow light

Finish the war, the darkness, end this suffering

Bright warrior against darkness.

Obviously this theme plays a HUGE role in S2. I believe the lyrics are different; we don't know what they say yet.

But I have contended all along that this piece has always applied in some way to BOTH Adar and Galadriel.

Galadriel is the bright warrior standing against Sauron's darkness, yes, that image is obvious.

But Adar, a figure who lived deep in shadow, follows light, ultimately finishing his own war and ending his own suffering.

[wolfnanaki]

Can you sum up the Goodbye Volcano High vs Snoot Game controversy? I don't know shit and you seem like the most knowledgeable person on it.

Okay. Summary time.

Developed by Canadian indie worker cooperative studio KO_OP, Goodbye Volcano High is a cinematic narrative/rhythm indie game about a group of dinosaur teenagers dealing with the impending end of the world from an asteroid. It features predominantly queer characters; the main character is an AFAB nonbinary pterodactyl named Fang.

GVH was revealed as part of the PS5 reveal lineup back in June 2020. From there, it experienced a few delays due to COVID, rewriting the story after the original writer was let go, and dealing with anti-LGBT harassment. It finally came out in late August 2023 to positive reception and some awards. It didn't sell a billion copies but it's been gradually growing its fanbase for over a year now.

A few days after GVH was first revealed, a group of 4channers, under the developer name "Cavemanon", decided they'd do their own visual novel using GVH's characters to spite GVH before it even came out. This VN, Snoot Game, came out in June 2021. It's a story where a featureless human male named "Anon" becomes Fang's friend and eventually boyfriend. It has an extremely anti-trans narrative, along with racist humor, promotes eugenics, has a school shooting ending if Fang doesn't detransition, and more.

Snoot ended up becoming very popular and spread around the internet, developing its own fanbase across social media. The worst parts of its fandom downplay Snoot's harmful rhetoric while harassing GVH's fans and developers. When GVH came out, they shared a pirated copy, called it the worst game ever, and encouraged people to support Snoot instead. I spoke out about all this and got doxed.

Snoot's success lead to Cavemanon hijacking a fan project from its original developers and making it into a spiritual sequel sold on Steam, called I Wani Hug That Gator!, released in February 2024. A few weeks after it came out, a former developer released a dossier speaking out about Cavemanon's working conditions, lack of compensation, and extreme right-wing views, to which Cavemanon responded with a hitpiece attacking everyone involved in the doc and linking my dox on Kiwifarms while mocking me for being trans.

To this day, mainstream gaming press outlets have refused to cover this story in any meaningful way, and Cavemanon has not faced any consequences for anything they've done. Wani has sold very well on Steam, and Cavemanon has opened their own web store and patron-supported developer blog, where they give terrible game dev advice and rant about "grooming operations" and the like.

So... that's it, really.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

You know, one of my favorite headcanons is that Nightmare's and Dream's Negativity and Positivity auras cause permanent damage to the soul if used too frequently.

My thought process about it is literally just that they function basically as extraneous bodies influencing the soul from the inside. Meaning that, with enough exposure, an actual extraneous residue can remain inside the soul. It's basically like an incurable infection.

Now, imagine this applied to Killer. Killer who probably chased after the feelings of the aura at least at first because sometimes he needs to feel literally anything at all to not lose it (and because the pain that came after the high was grounding and 'fun' in the way he's been conditioned to regard all pain).

And imagine him after running away from Nightmare and finally finding a a safe space with Color only to be hit with the realization that both of the ones who destroyed him left permanent marks on him (Chara with the very shape of his soul, and Nightmare with the black sludge he can never wash away flowing just below the surface). Imagine Color having to gently but firmly refuse to leave a mark of his own. Because that's not gonna make anything better, not really, it's only gonna hurt Killer further. But Killer insists that he needs it, he needs at least one mark that is from something good- from someone good.

Just, hhhhhhhhhhh, the possibilities for angst with this are so many

I love that headcanon, and the thought of that is kinda sad.

It reminds me of this little comic I came across like a year or two ago where Killer carved Color’s name into his wrist. It was for different reasons, i believe it was because Killer couldn’t think of another way to show Color that he loved him other than to leave something of Color on him permanently and that way he’d never forget him.

I wonder what kind of marking(s) Killer would be looking for here, what he’d be willing to settle for, how desperate would he get and how far would he be willing to go to get what he wants from Color.

Does it need to be something permanent, something small and easily hidden or something big enough to notice? Can it be temporary but frequent, like bite or scratch marks? Would he try to get color to fight and bruise him up. Would he find a way to leave color’s mark on him himself. Would something like a collar from Color or with something that links back to Color work, if it’s not exactly what he wants.

I’d imagine the thought of being marked again, even if by Color, would cause some major conflict between his stages—his dissociative parts, causing a lot of confusion and disturbance.

The body may have been conditioned to enjoy pain and torture, especially in Stage 2, but doesn’t mean Killer wants it or even can mentally or emotionally handle it in other Stages.

If Color marks him in a permanent painful way, somewhere deep down it’d register as a betrayal to Killer—and if Color doesn’t do something, there’s a risk of feeling misunderstood and maybe even rejected—leading to distancing if Color doesn’t approach the subject carefully.

Color is in a very delicate situation, and he has to make a choice or a compromise if he’s willing, but he also has to be prepared for any consequences or pushback that would come from refusing—which he is of course allowed to do.

I can see him being willing to find a safer alternative or compromise, and Killer is going to have to accept that one way or another—no matter how may push at the lines, keep trying to convince Color. And even if he may come very close to straight up begging—trying to convince Color that it’d be good, he can take it, it’s just once, he trusts him, yada yada.

Cause at the end of the day, Color can tell this request is coming from a place of fear and self dehumanization, a need for security and reassurance that Color is willing to give him in safer ways, not a genuine want.

{ @stellocchia }

[hotvintagepoll]

Charles McNaughton (Treasure Island)—he is such a weird little weird pirate in this movie!!!! the whole movie is creeEEEEeepy at this point, weird characters showing up at the bar FREAKING jim hawkins ass out, but charles mcnaughton's black dog (the first of many weirdos) takes the cake for me.

Dwight Frye (Dracula, Frankenstein)—he's my babygirl please please please please please i want to baby bird feed him flies and spiders and pick him up and make glitter edits of him and give him gross forehead kisses like he's my cat. in dracula he was so incredibly creepy that he was typecast as madmen for the rest of his life and he fucking hated it but by god if he didn't do a fantastic job. he steals the show every time he's up on screen just because he's so fucking deranged. i need him

This is round 1 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Charles McNaughton:

Link to the entire movie of Treasure Island [1932]—McNaughton comes in at 12:02. I haven't seen the whole movie in a long time so go forward with caution for content warnings!

Dwight Frye:

He absolutely owns the entirety of Dracula (1931). Compared to the novel, his part is massively expanded and it's clear why. He's magnetically unhinged and his facial expressions are pure scrungle. And in Frankenstein, he begins the archetype of Frankenstein's assistant even if the character's name there is Fritz. He'd still go on to play other scrungly guys in later Frankenstein movies. But he's kinda the archetypal and progenitor of the scrungly lil guy.

The scrungliest guy ever to scrungle. He's pretty much the blueprint for every mad scientist's assistant, and he's the best part of every movie he's in. He manages to make you feel sorry for the creepy little dudes, even when he's eating spiders and crawling across the floor.

[editor's note: content warning for the "hunchback" stereotype and "madness" in the clips below]

the "Rats" soliloquy:

I saw him in Dracula and frankly he has me bewitched. I could watch him do his silly routine forever. The gay tension with Bela Lugosi onscreen was frankly unparalleled. Kirk and Spock levels. I am chewing on the furniture

Played the weirdo little guy in Dracula AND the weirdo little guy in Frankenstein in the same year. Iconic.

I honestly think it would be a crime to ignore Dwight Frye's scrungle factor. He played two of the prototypical creepy little henchman as Dracula's lackey Renfield and Dr. Frankenstein's hunchback servant Fritz, and I believe that his excellence in these roles absolutely shaped the future character tropes of the "Igor" type as much as Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff shaped the future understanding of Dracula and Frankenstein's monster. He's got it all from the looks, to the manic energy, to the crazed laugh, I'm telling you right now that I think he could win the entire tournament.

The scrungles to end all scrungles! There's a reason why this man codified the manic vampire's familiar and the hunchbacked lab assistant for generations, because by God can this man be feral and scrungly: Whether he's soliloquizing about rats as Renfield, scurrying around Frankenstein's lab like a spider as Fritz, or skulking around dark alleys (and scaring the hell out of little baby me) waiting for a fresh heart to steal as Karl, if you want a scrungly little man for your classic film, Dwight Frye is your man. He has the range to play varying kinds of scrungle, with his wide eyes, his manic smiles, his soft, breathy voice, he is truly an undisputed scrungle master.

[unknown-1800]

Co-Parenting

Note: Hope you are enjoying, requests are open if you want me to write anything in particular.

Summary: You and Mason are getting a divorce but are doing well with co-parenting your son Elijah. However, due to the divorce you are changing your name, how will Mason take it when you suggest to double barrel your sons name? Will he accept it?

Pairings: Mason Mount x Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Swearing, Angst and Fluff

You are the best father to Elijah, you always wanted children that was one of the first conversations we had when we first stated dating. So the day I saw those 2 blue lines on the pregnancy test I have never seen you so excited. We weren’t even trying and it came as a bit of a shock but still the baby was a blessing, and I knew you were going to be an incredible father. Even before I gave birth you were constantly looking out for the baby making sure I didn’t over exercise and I was eating right, the whole nursery was equipped by our 24 week scan, and that day when you found out we were having a boy you were over the moon. All you could think about was playing football with our future son in the garden. When Elijah was born you still claim this was one of the best days of your life, and I swear I saw a tear slipping down your face when you held him for the first time.

We were in an absolute baby bliss, well that was until Elijah was 3 months old. We were having a much needed family day chilling at home. This is when mine and Mason’s phones both went absolute mad. We panicked thinking something bad had happened and it was one of the family group chats. What I saw was even worse. It was links to the news article, claiming this women was having an affair with him for the past 6 months. You didn’t even try and deny it so I knew it was true. How could you he have done this to us? To our new family?  What was worse it started at the end of the pregnancy when I was emotional on how I looked due to the weight gain caused by the massive pregnancy bump but Mason always argued that I was the most beautiful women in the world. Now I know why he was so happy as he was getting it from the super model instead.

We tried to make it work for Elijah’s sake but the trust was gone and we were arguing all the time. It was too toxic for Elijah to be around so we agreed to split. Everyone was heart broken over it but we had to do what was best for our boy. We always were good at co-parenting though, no matter what happened between us we always acted like a happy family for his sake. The big word in that is we would “act” like a happy family.

Today was no different it was Elijah’s trial day at the new nursery. It was a time when parents and children could come to the nursery have a walk around and see if parent and child both like it. It was a private nursery, it was where all the footballers and anyone with a bit of status sends their child. Mason said it was recommended from a couple of guys from the team. I wanted to just send Elijah to a normal nursery, but Mason agreed to pay for it so who am I deprive my son of the best if his dad wants to offer it to him?

I agreed to meet Mason at the nursery with Elijah so we didn’t have to do that awkward car ride in silence. So me and Elijah drove there with the music blaring both of us singing away. When we arrived Mason was already standing at the entrance. Elijah ran to him “dadddddyyyyy” he shouted as he ran to Mason. “Hello Bud” Mason said as he picked him up and gave him the biggest cuddle. He gave me a small side cuddle and a polite kiss on the cheek. I tried to give him a small smile. Be civil for Elijah’s sake I keep saying in my head.

We walked in and went up to reception. “Hello we are here for Elijah Mount’s trail day” I say to the lady at the reception desk. She checked her records and smiles “Of course please this way” as she points to the doors in front of us. We walk through to the main hall and she bends down to Elijah’s hight. “Hello I am Mrs Right” and gives Elijah the biggest smile which he returns. She puts her hand out for a high five which he gives her and runs off to be with the other children to play. He was always such a confident child, I am so proud of his personality. “Please Mr Mount and Miss Y/L/N this way and you can speak to who would be Elijah’s teacher if you decide this school is suited for him”. Mason shoots me a look. Jheez if looks could kill that would be it. He turns to me and whispers “Y/L/N really? You are still a Mount the divorce hasn’t been finalised yet?!” He says with hurt and anger in his eyes. “Please Mason not know” I whisper back “It was pointless saying we were Mr and Mrs Mount on the application because by the time Elijah starts here I won’t be Mrs Mount anymore so it was just easier to give them Y/L/N”. Mason rolls his eye at this, why does he have to make such a big deal out of it? He was the one who decided to ruin our marriage he cannot be angry that I dropped his name it was his fault.

The next hour went well, Mason kept shooting me glares to remind me that he is pissed off but the school seemed amazing and Elijah seemed to love it. We were standing there watching Elijah play in the sandpit. I am now regretting him wearing his new Armani tracksuit that his Uncle Declan got him for his last birthday. I look at Mason and can see the happiness in his eyes watching his son. I had to ask him now, I know my solicitor said not to say anything until the divorce was finalised but I didn’t want to blind side him. Plus if I didn’t speak to him now I would chicken out for sure. “Mase can I speak to you about something?” Mason nods turning his head to you giving you his attention. “I want to change Elijah’s name” Mason looked at me confused and I could see that he wasn’t getting where I was coming from. I then continued “As I will no longer be a Mount I want to double barrel Elijah’s last name so he has both our names. It will be easier if I take him away of anything. Otherwise people are going to think I kidnapped Mason Mounts baby” I tried to make a joke so the conversation was more light hearted. Mason didn’t see it this way. He shot me daggers and replied “Absolutely fucking not” and stormed out of the hall. Fuck sake why does he needs to make such a scene.

Elijah seeing his dad storm out came running over to me “I am ready to go now mummy”. I agreed and gave him a reassurance smile. We said our goodbyes and thanked the staff for the kindness of showing us around and explained I would be in touch regarding his place. The school is amazing and Elijah seemed to love it, he is definitely attending. When we were outside I could see Mason looking down at the ground, I can see the anger in his eyes. His emotion quickly changes when Elijah hugs him and says his goodbye. He then gets in his Range Rover and speeds off, I hate when he drives like that. He better not drive like that when Elijah is in the car, at the same time I know he would never put his son in danger so I quickly delete that thought.

Mason and I usually talk quite frequently in the week about Elijah showing each other pictures or updating each other on what he has done that day. This week Mason has been radio silent. He hasn’t seen Elijah the last couple of days, and every time I send him a picture of Elijah he just hearted the messages and didn’t reply which was unusual. I know he was pissed about my name request. It is just a name what is his issue? Saturday morning came and Mason sent me a text message “Hey I didn’t know what you were doing today but thought you and Eli might want to come down to watch the game?” I thought about it and then I looked at Elijah he was so flued up bless him it wouldn’t be right to drag him out in the cold so I quickly replied. “Hey Mase, I am so sorry Elijah didn’t sleep well last night he only had a couple of hours he couldn’t stop coughing and sneezing bless him, he ended up sleeping in my bed. It wouldn’t be good for him to sit in the cold I am so sorry. But he wishes his daddy the best of luck even though he knows you don’t need it ;)xx”  I know Mase would of smiled at that text and he responded “No worries at all, hope he is okay. Give him a kiss for me :)xx”.

Luckily for us the game was on TV, I put the game on the TV ready for kick off and put Elijah in his Manchester United Shirt with ‘DADDY 7” on the back. It was about 30 mins before the start, I sat Elijah down on the floor in front of the TV and took a photo. It clearly showed his shirt. We usually post him on our socials but do not post his face, so a lot of pictures are of him wearing a football shirt. I quickly added this to our my storey and added the caption ‘Cheering on his daddy! Come on United!’ I tagged Mason in this so hoping he will see this before he goes out. Which I was right, Mason saw his phone buzz just as he was about to go out. He quickly checked and saw you tagged him in a storey when he saw what it is, his heart melted.

Mason had the best game he has had in a while, he got 2 assists and a goal which resulted in United winning 4-2. I was so proud. I quickly send him a text that read “Well done Mase you make us both so proud x”. I then started my evening routine getting Elijahs dinner ready.

I was continuing with our evening routine with washing up Elijah's dinner and cleaning up his toys whilst his bath was running and there was suddenly a knock at the door. I was confused as I was not expecting anyone. As I opened it I saw Mason there. “Hey” he said. “I just miss Eli is it okay if I get him ready for bed tonight?” This wasn’t an uncommon act, Elijah never stays over at Masons as we decided it would be best for him to settle in 1 bed, however Mason does often come round and get him ready for bed. Of course I agreed at let him in. Mason bathed Elijah and tucked him in. Talking about the game and reading Elijah stories, it wasn’t long until Elijah was out for the night.

Mason comes walking back into the living room where you are chilling out, “Thank you for doing that, its nice it gives me a break for 5 mins”. Mason nods and smiles at that. He loves being apart of Elijah’s life. Mason keeps looking at me. “Okay” he says. I am confused “Okay to what?” I ask I have no idea what he is talking about. “Okay you can change his name.. I give you my consent” I smile thank god he is not going to fight me on this. “On one condition” There it is.. please don’t be a something silly that is going to make the situation worse I am begging in my head. “I want Mount to be first” he continues “Elijah Mason Mount-Y/L/N” he says. I smile “that’s amazing of course thank you”. I run to him and hug him. I didn’t even realise how long we were hugging for, I could feel his hands deep in my hair holding me tight. I am nestled into his neck, I smell his aftershave. Elijah running in broke us from that moment. “Why are you crying mummy?” He asked in concern. I didn’t even realise I was. I quickly wiped away my tears. “Mummy is just happy that’s all bubba now go back to sleep”. He quickly runs back his room. “Bye Bud I will see you tomorrow” Mason shouts “We will go kick the ball around in the garden”. Elijah stops in his bedroom door frame and nods to Mason and runs back into bed. “I will see you tomorrow Mase” I say to Mason giving him a nice smile. “I will see you tomorrow Y/N/N” pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. As he lets himself out I let a breathe out and I think my heart has now stopped beating so fast. Fuck he makes my heart melt. Why did he have to ruin it, we could have been the perfect family?!”

[haru-dipthong]

My Utena Fansub Ep 2 (and Ep 1 rerelease)

Here's episode 2! A huge thank you to @dontbe-lasanya for their incredible efforts at editing my translation!

Also, episode 1 has been revised. I'll update the link on my original posts, but if you're looking at a reblog it will still have the old link. From now on, I'll be posting a link to a folder with all the episodes after each release, so you can easily find old episodes. You can find the new ep 1 and all other episodes as they release here:

Translation Discussion

Utena uses boku. There’s no way to convey this aspect of self-identified masculinity in english, so the translation needs to make up for it in other ways. One way I did this was the “Master” translation of 様 (sama), but this isn’t self-identified (in fact, Utena dislikes the use of 様). I saw a good opportunity to do this here:

まあ、一人部屋らしいから、クールな僕の趣味には合ってるよ。

I think I’ve got a room to myself. Kinda perfect for my bachelor lifestyle. (my translation)

I'm gonna have to be on the lookout in the future for other opportunities for Utena to gender themself masc!

-----

世界の殻を破壊せ... 世界を革命するために！

Destroy the shell... and revolutionise the world!

Other translations often translate this as "For the revolution of the world!" or "For the sake of revolutionizing the world!". I believe these translations are trying too hard to make explicit the function of ために to express purpose/aim. I think it's unnecessary - a simple "and" will do, because the fact that "revolutionising the world" is the point of "destroying the shell" is wholly self-evident through context.

-----

I didn’t have space to talk about the A-ko/B-ko translation or Zettai Unmei Mokushiroku in the first post, but there were some interesting decisions to be made!

かしらかしら、ご存じかしら？

My oh my, haven’t you heard? (my translation)

This was in important translation because it gets used so many more times in the show, and it needs to make sense in many different contexts. The shadow girls tend to echo their opening lines in their closing lines:

でも、勇者様、わざと負ける難しさをご存じかしら？ かしらかしら、ご存じかしら？

but, sir knight, haven’t you heard how hard it is to lose a fight on purpose? My oh my, haven’t you heard? (my translation)

The opening line needs to be able to be recontextualised from a relatively innocent phrase that signifies the shadow girls are gossiping, to a more sinister taunting of “the knight” for being naive (or, in the first episode, not knowing what they’re getting into).

I went with “my, oh my” for かしらかしら because it sounds a bit old fashioned and feminine, just like the Japanese. I originally had “have you heard?” but it didn’t sound nearly taunting enough when repeated in he closing lines.

-----

絶対運命黙示録

Certain destiny: the Revelation! (my translation)

Most existing translations have this as “Absolute Destiny: Apocalypse” or “Absolute Destiny: Revelation”.

黙示録 is the word for the Book of Revelation, from the Bible. It’s not just describing any apocalypse, but the Biblical, Christian Revelation. I think “apocalypse” has become more generic in modern English, whereas “Revelation” is decidedly Biblical. This also influenced some of the decisions to jazz up the rest of the song to emphasise the Biblical references.

The word 絶対 can means “absolute” as in “without question”, but “absolute” has other meanings besides this in modern English (e.g. “extreme”). I decided to go with “certain” because I believe the original Japanese is trying to get across the unquestionable destiny of the Revelation: “It’s absolutely going to happen”. Also, maybe I’m too online but I think “absolute” just sounds silly here. Online vernacular has made “absolute” an almost jokey word (e.g. “absolute unit”).

However, I did include the classic name of the song as the lyric at the end of the song before it goes into the syllable switching chant:

絶対運命黙示闇

Absolute destiny: Apocalypse!

Note the slight difference here in the japanese. 闇 means darkness, and 黙示闇 isn't a real word, it's just a combination of "Revelation" and "darkness". The last kanji in the more common 黙示録 means "record" as in "the records of the Revelation", the Book of Revelation. While the meaning doesn't change much with the substitution of 闇, it makes the line feel a bit darker, a bit edgier, which made it feel appropriate to include the edgier classic name of the song here.

出生登録、洗礼名簿、死亡登録

Records of childbirth, records of baptism, records of death. (my translation)

Other translations have this as “birth records” and “baptismal registry”, which I think sound awkward. “Birth records” has too few syllables for the line of the song, and doesn’t sound poetical enough, while “baptismal registry” reeks of someone looking up the word in a dictionary and plopping it in without thinking about how it would sound in a haunting apocalyptic song.

もくし くしも しもく くもし もしく しくも

Revelation, Apocalypse Apocalypse, Revelation

The syllable switching chant is impossible to translate - doing such a thing in English just makes it sound silly. Since this line comes directly after the switch up with the original song name, I decided to use the synonyms Revelation and Apocalypse in an alternating sequence to give the same impression of a haunting, cult-like chant. I think this alone makes the decision to use the original song name worth it! Really happy with how the song has turned out.

[steddiebang2024]

Getting to know you (again) |  E |  68k

Author: @medusapelagia

Artist: @boybonebird

Beta Reader: @spookysnarkyem and @dame-zoom-a-lot

[Link to fic]  |  [Link to art]

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, minor Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham, implied Jason Carver/Billy Hargrove

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Steve’s parents, Eddie’s parents, Wayne Munson, Dustin Henderson, Claudia Henderson, Robin Buckley

Tags: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Slow Burn, Amnesia, Forced Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Whump, POV Alternating, Misunderstandings, Eventual Smut, Eddie Munson is Taller Than Steve Harrington, might contain traces of Billy Hargrove, Digital Art, Steddie Big Bang 2024 

Trigger Warnings: Car Accidents, Hospitals

↳ Keep reading below for a summary!

The Harrington Family is rich, disgustingly rich.

The only problem is that their wealth comes from loan sharking and old connections to the mafia. But Richard Harrington is an ambitious man and he won't let the shadow of the past influence his future: all he needs is a famous name that will finally clean their, but none is willing to be associated with the Harrington family. None apart from Alan Munson, the member of a prestigious family now in disgrace, who immediately accepts the idea of marrying his son to Harrington’s son.

What they don’t know is that Steve has his own plan: marry Eddie and get a divorce by consent after a few months, so both the boys will be finally free from their families.

It looks like a perfect plan, until a car crash messes everything up.

When Steve wakes up he doesn’t remember Eddie or their plan and he truly believes that they got married for love. Didn’t they?

-

“Are you drunk, Steve? Do you need me to pick you up?”

“No, I’m home. With a warm beer that tastes like piss thinking about my vows.”

“Vows? What are you talking about?”

“It was a busy night.”

“I got it,” Robin replies, “but I’m still confused. Did you really say vows?”

[lxmelle]

Preliminary thoughts… the end of jjk: Chapter 271 - spoilers under cut.

Edit: I guess to summarise, it’s a long piece on some parallels, my interpretations of the end, satosugu-centric as always, general thoughts on Sukuna’s end, Gojo & Geto’s death, the processing of death, how we live on in the fragments of memories carried by others, etc.

Written based off these translations: https://x.com/kaidanatta/status/1839426420352983516?s=46&t=fRFF_o0I99NKUvzHwQHykA

I liked how it openly depicted Gojo describing having the confidence he never had before.

It seems to me that he was peacefully accepting whatever came. He would do his best as he always did, but he had a vision to create a world that didn’t need “just one strong guy” - he vowed never to leave anyone alone again. I think it was both alone like him and alone like Geto.

Paths were meant to be trodden on together. And this vision was going to come true whether he survived or not. He would win either way.

Honestly, as sad and as much as things could have been better (for every single character, I might add), I’d rather someone die on their terms. Whatever happened to their bodies, regardless of how they died. If they were at peace with it themselves, having given their lives their all, then it is dignified. Better that’, than grovelling like Mahito, or resigned and regretful like Sukuna (although he did seem to be more at peace after leaving with Uraume - who, out of love, chose to die with him). And Sukuna, I think, at least realised he was partly human after all, and could look towards a “next time”. The monster did open up his heart in the afterlife - having lived one life in the only way he knew how.

Speaking of the afterlife...

And I wrote before about how I believe he didn’t die with any regret. And that Sukuna actively chose his own path, giving it his all - going by all that he knew - by rejecting love/humanity. Strongest. Until he wasn’t. Then (in the afterlife) he was free to choose. If there is a next time. It has a parallel to Gojo in that sense who was also shackled to his title and “blessings” as the one with six-eyes and limitless.

Link to some of my thoughts on Sukuna: https://www.tumblr.com/lxmelle/760769700430069760/sukunas-choice-i-was-truly-struck-by-his

Link to some of my thoughts on how Gojo didn’t die with regret: https://www.tumblr.com/lxmelle/757478555697512448/i-dont-think-gojo-died-dissatisfied-or-with-any even if he said he wasn’t completely satisfied, he actually did see Geto. And his smirk indicated he received Sukuna’s affirmation which was also important to him that he reached him in some way (and that his students would carry the torch).

Sukuna doesn't know if there will be another time. And assuming it’s Yorozu and Uraume he was thinking of… he knew love was an option in his life. No, it was not Gojo.

But, with him being a soul and after all that happened; in what he can do in the present, he is/was choosing to bring Uraume along. For someone who upheld that people and love didn’t matter, his actions and words are now depicting something else.

It’s nice character development. As Gege said, the only real evil was Mahito. And he didn’t want to fall in the trap of making people, “oh they’re good after all”. Sukuna did die like a villain but he may choose something else next time. Leaving it open to interpretation.

Speaking of confidence again… skip or skim this part if you don’t want to read too much about satosugu. It’s a bit repetitive but I think it’s part of putting all the pieces together.

So, confidence he never had? I think we are aware that Gojo knew he’d win either way: even if he lost. He was never really too attached to himself, just like how Geto wasn’t. His death, was on his terms, and his will would live on in a new world that was in the process of being created. Through the efforts of both Geto and Gojo - who were the strongest in the modern era - they had both vowed to change the jujutsu world.

Gojo lived with the humanity he opened his eyes to through Geto. This was the core of what I elaborated on in the KFC breakup.

Link here: https://www.tumblr.com/lxmelle/758154996699283456/the-kfc-breakup-was-about-friendship-more-than

Geto believed in Gojo...

....but Gojo didn’t believe in him at the time of the KFC breakup. That’s why they fought, with Geto retaliating (you could do it but you tell me I can’t?) when he saw that Gojo didn’t/couldn’t regard him as an equal human being with potential. He saw it as Gojo bullying the weak. The weak should keep the strong in check (not abuse their power). Because Gojo was strong, he, who could fulfil Geto’s dream, told Geto that it as impossible and pointless. How arrogant. How condescending.

Geto, who believed in and tried to nurture Gojo to develop his humanity. To not scare his juniors. To respect the elders. To fit in. To not be lonely, to love and be loved. That there was more than being strong for the sake of being strong.

Geto always believed in Gojo. Even if Gojo didn’t believe in himself. He always just followed the path laid before him. He never needed to question it...

And I think it was this that shook Gojo. He took their friendship for granted. The one thing he wanted, he couldn’t have. He couldn’t stop Geto.

He didn’t have the confidence to kill Geto. He didn’t see the point. It would hurt him. Gojo had become too human. He loved Geto. And… He didn’t have the confidence to follow Geto. It would also hurt him. He knew he would be rejected. He wasn’t strong enough to convince him. Protect him. Them.

It wasnt enough to be strong. It wasn’t enough to be Gojo Satoru the way he was.

He needed to have something he could be confident in too. And therefore Gojo changed.

Gojo was gifted and could never understand what it was to be human or to strive for something beyond what was laid out for him. He never thought he would need to treasure anything. When he saw someone he could relate to - someone he loved - seemingly throw everything away - including him the strongest, who could be the key to his success… his world collapsed.

It didn’t make sense.

Geto was going to chase his dream despite not being strong enough.

How did he get that confidence? Why do such a pointless thing?

I think this is one of the things Gojo was left wondering.

He felt left behind; how did Geto have that resolve? Why wasn’t he able to follow him? What was he afraid of? Was he afraid?

Geto admitted it was foolish, but he was going to give it his all, in spite of its pointlessness and his own lack of strength. Even if he wasn’t strong enough, was meaning and reason enough to fight for such an impossible dream?

And what more, he believed in Gojo. You could do it, Satoru. That Gojo could achieve what he wanted to do, in his own way. Who are you? What will you choose to do?

Yes, of course we know Geto knew that he himself had abused his power, and that he deserved to be killed by Gojo. That’s why the draft of ch78 was instrumental in understanding Geto’s true meaning and the meaning that Gojo derived from it. I think that love and confidence moved Gojo. It was what he was searching for, and chasing... Geto and what he represented to him.

You know, we can see from the surface that Geto was a “villain” for his methods. But, Gojo was not innocent either. They were more similar than people want to realise.

They made (and were willing to make) sacrifices for the sake of the future.

Geto, in more directly “sinful” / harmful ways - killing and getting his hands dirty to rid the world of the source of curses - unevolved humans. He was trying to raise a world of sorcerers who could exist in peace without curses with him being the sacrifice (his source of energy would cease as well, if he won).

Gojo, in more indirectly “sinful” ways that resulted in mass casualties- his hands were relatively clean - even if he did take the higher-ups’ lives in his own hands. He was trying to raise a world of sorcerers that would not rely on him with him being the sacrifice (his role as the strongest would end as well if he succeeded in being replaced).

It’s fitting too, isn’t it? Geto’s CT is to absorb. Gojo’s CT to repel. Dark, light. Yin, Yang.

On a side note: I had also hoped for a scene with his resting place or something like that to depict a final satosugu moment. And this as echoed in the X community. Some people were really hurt, sharing their dissatisfaction.

My thoughts on this… well… maybe an unpopular opinion, but I’ll share it anyway.

One of the reasons why Gojo wasn’t openly mourned is... I speculate, perhaps because he was viewed as part of the cause of what happened. The other teachers who didn’t have the weight of responsibility (that power and status bring) could afford to be cogs in the system. Changing things was always going to be difficult. Someone had to do it. Just depends on how… Right?

Gojo was just depicted as a difficult character within the series amongst the adults. He did things his way, didn’t communicate well, appeared to throw his strength around, talked down to people even if he didn’t mean to - and this shitstorm also happened because he took (what they/others thought were) unnecessary risks by saving Yuta and Yuji. And keeping Geto’s body by not cremating it.

This is their shortsighted view - because they probably did not know of his massive dream to shake up the jujutsu world. Again, Gojo is not a great communicator. What can ichiji (the only one we see him telling this dream to) do to assist Gojo with this revolution?

From their perspective, after all that stress with the real risk of more chaos occurring, the raging war, the casualties, the mess in the aftermath with barriers, etc. that all needs to be rebuilt… yeah - they aren’t going to have the time to think fondly of the guy who could be held accountable for it.

It sucks, but please understand- there is truth in their perspective too. Gojo probably was processed and buried in the end. Gege could only fit in a small exchange and I daresay it was really precious between what he and Yuji shared. I’m so happy he was at peace with things and felt the satisfaction of being a part of his students’ lives.

This was the world Geto and he had dreamed of. Allies working together. Strong allies. People who would not be forced to leave one another behind.

But to get there… Sacrifices did need to be made.

It just has to be accepted as what it was / is. They aren’t going to say thank you. But we as the reader can appreciate the whole picture for what it is.

Gojo was part of the problem as he was the solution,(that handpicked allies which also came with risk). Geto was part of the problem as he was the solution (that changed Gojo Satoru who could’ve been a monster). And the kids like Yuji were also part of the problem as they were the solution. That’s. Just... what it is.

If we are looking to pin the blame on something... well, just where do we begin? The jujutsu system is inherently the thing that “caused it all”. Maybe even right back to the days where tengen spread Buddhism around and Kenjaku and Sukuna were all kind of a part of it. We just don’t know where it all started. It worked once upon a time, until things change. Things will always change. But the higher-ups were greedy and wanted things to remain hierarchical as they were without the need for change. So when change came to their door step through a series of things, it was radical. Needed.

Anyway, it could be that they see it as him taking responsibility for the trouble he caused. This was his role as the strongest and he wanted that battle. He did what he could with what he had. And the children he saved were part of the solution at the end. Their own sins - like Maki’s massacre of the clan, etc. would all probably have a line drawn under it as part of this “revolution” that Gojo shouldered.

The dream began and ended. Gojo took responsibility. And I think, just as he wanted, they’ll now create something new from the rubble left behind.

He gave his life his all… achieved what he wanted (confidence, revolution, and left his will) and now in his afterlife, he has caught up to his best friend.

His one and only complex. His one and only best friend.

I may have more to add later on, but for now... thank you Gege Akutami. I look forward to your next work.

And thank you for drawing Geto with Gojo in the colour spread! 🫶

Thank you for reading if you made to the end! Sorry for rambling.

Thoughts? Feel free to comment! Happy to hear from others and engage 🫶

Edit: Yuji smiles like Gojo does now... not only does he remember his sensei, he is living out the dream. This is how live on - in the hearts of others. This is Gojo’s (and Geto’s) legacy. Yuji’s strength, different from Gojo, but similar in idealism, is that he is like everyone’s brother - and he will build strength with all allies.

That’s my theory... it’s a fitting end and beginning of a new generation. Not limited to Yuji alone too. It’s really….. remarkable.

Second edit:

still processing it all and hurts my heart to see the last Geto & Gojo that Gege is likely to draw 😫 I’m glad he is closest to Gojo and they even share the same colour (lol). It’s cute that he’s doing the peace ✌🏼 sign that Gojo has been seen to do (maybe more in the anime). And Gojo appears to have gestures that Geto’s patted him on the back. In the afterlife, I’m sure there’ll be the exchange of 「お疲れ様でした、悟。」

You did well, Satoru. You both did...

And in the top corner... white: Kashimo? And cropped jacket: Haibara?

[star-rie]

Uther’s death from my fix it au:

Merlin fights for his life as he battles hundreds of the undead with only one thing in his mind: Arthur is going to die. Knocking the last soldier away. He rams the door open.

Morgause sat on the throne with Arthur under her heels, bloody and bruised. On the other side of the floor, Uther lays unconscious. Merlin runs to her but immediately collided into nothing. There’s an invisible wall separating them.

Arthur: …merlin…

Morgause: Oh great, you’re here

Merlin: GIVE HIM BACK!!

Merlin tries to break the barrier with the sword he’s carrying, but it’s futile. Merlin tries to hit it again with higher force but the sword snaps in half.

Morgause: You can’t break it, not unless I die. It’s useless.

Morgause pulls the ends of Arthur’s hair and rest her sword on his throat

Morgause: Here’s what’s going to happen Emrys. Either you kill that tyrant- (tilts her head towards uther) or your prince dies

Arthur: Don’t do it! MERLIN DON’T DO IT!!! Damn you! Let me die for him-

Morgause: You don’t get to decide that (presses her sword)

Arthur and Morgause stares at Merlin in silence. Merlin doesn’t know what to do.

Morgause: well?? Hurry up!!

Arthur: NO! Don’t you DARE DO ANYTHING!!

Merlin: I…let him go morgause…

Morgause: Not unless you kill him

Merlin stays still. Not knowing what to do. Morgause grew impatient.

Morgause: Fine then, you think I’m not serious?

With quick reflexes Morgause stabs Arthur’s stomach, Arthur howled with pain, gripping his wound. Merlin felt like his heart just stopped.

Morgause: the next one is through his heart (forces arthur to look at merlin) well???

Merlin bit his lip. Stading still. Morgause tsked, and plunged her sword at Arthur’s heart

Merlin: NO WAIT!

Morgause stops

Morgause: Yes?

Merlin took a deep breath and picked up his broken sword, he started walking torwards uther.

Arthur: Merlin…? Merlin? MERLIN! MERLIN STOP!!

Merlin stops at Uther’s unconscious body.

Morgause: Wait!

Merlin looks at her with a questioning glance.

Morgause: Do it with magic

Merlin: …what??

Morgause: I want you to kill him with your magic

Arthur: are you insane…? Merlin doesn’t practice magic!

Morgause waits for him but Merlin didn’t do anything.

Morgause: do you want him to die?

Merlin: i don’t have magic.

Morgause: oh stop pretending emrys

Merlin: isn’t…isn’t killing him enough?

Arthur: ARE YOU INSANE?? Merlin if you kill my father I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!

Merlin: …why are you doing this?

Morgause: kill him now.

Arthur: merlin! Don’t listen to her! Please!!

Merlin: i…i don’t…i don’t have magic…

Morgause: liar! Do what you’re meant to do! Kill Uther Pendragon! What are you so afraid of? Magic will thrive again!! You can stop hiding who you are….or if you’re a coward…things will stay the same…with the loss of your prince.

Arthur: Merlin…if you kill him, i’ll never forgive you.

Merlin looks towards at the floor looking deep in thought. Just as Morgause got tired of waiting, Merlin’s eyes suddenly glows gold and Uther’s body levitated on the air. Arthur was stunned, shocked at the display.

Merlin: I’m sorry…Arthur, but between you and everything. I will always choose you.

A resounding crack echoes throughout the room, and Uther’s body lay motionless. Dead.

Arthur: no…

Morgause smiles, pleased.

Morgause: good choice

She undid the barrier and throws Arthur across the room. She disappears to thin air.

With a bleeding abdomen, Arthur forces himself to go to Uther’s side. Merlin tries to tend him but Arthur weakly shoves him away.

Arthur: get away from me…

Merlin: i need to heal you

Arthur: i don’t want to be healed by a traitor!

Merlin: You’re in critical condition!

Arthur: I DON’T CARE!! GET AWAY FROM ME!!

Arthur struggles against Merlin’s hold before passing out.

Link to main thread and other snippets:

[that-trans-lad]

Wow you started transitioning at 13 ?! So before entirely figuring out your own sexual orientation … as someone who could have transitioned and who ended up being just a masculine adult dyke, someone who as a teenager had dysphoria (not strong enough that I actually wanted a penis tho) and dysmorphia that were linked to a poor mental health, this is where it get scary tbh. In many ways when medical transitioning happens too young it can be a form of conversion therapy without realising it. Changing body while young in a world where homosexuality is still judged negatively (if not worst) raises red flags at the medical staff letting it happen. I’m not saying you ultimately are anything else than happy right now, I’m saying people should not begin HRT nor have top surgery before they’re 18. I rejected my body so much back then (granted, many teens regardless of dysphoria experience that, which ppl tend to forget), I started loving it through the realisation that women could love it.

I’m hearing a lot of personal experience and not alot of actual facts. Here’s a fact for you 90% of people who transition young report increased life satisfaction with less then 1% regretting there transition let me repeat that for you LESS THEN 1% regret there transition. Do not assume a transition is instantaneous it is strenuous millions go through years of therapy to gain access to hormone therapy don’t get me started the hoops and bounds you jump through to obtain access to surgery.

I’m sorry you based your life on the love of others but that is not why people transition. And further more It is not scary you’re just misguided early recognition and support can truly salvage an extremely difficult life, aging into a body that does not match with who they are inside.

This is the comment that floors me because you wish to share your opinion but your uneducated on what being transgender even is, it’s like showing up to a debate about womans rights then your argument is that the grass is blue. Sexual orientation has nothing to do with why I transitioned? I transitioned for myself and not based on who else loved me but based on loving myself.