#we're seeing DYNAMIC WOMEN ON OUR SCREENS

[hashtag-naturalchickproblems]

How therapeutic was it for AJ and Paget to shoot those scenes?

This is what they deserve😭😭😭😭

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceres Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

Trigger Warnings: Workplace harassment, pregnancy complications, verbal abuse, grief, and loss. Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Redemption Arc, Workplace Dynamics, Gamer Culture, Mystery Identity, Mild Violence, Pregnancy Complications, Emotional Hurt, Disassociation, Depression.

A/N: Before you start reading— 1. Man, after finalizing this chapter, I was the Ben Affleck meme outside, chain-smoking my sanity away. 2. Minors, DNI. It’s not spicy, but seriously, don’t ruin your innocence here. 3. Our reader is tough as nails, but damn, even I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. 4. I’ve sprinkled some links, a playlist, and a meme to lighten the vibe, but customize the vibe however you need. 5. Fair warning: the ending’s gonna hurt. If you’re not in the headspace for that, skip the parts marked with { }. Take care of yourself, okay? Let’s get wrecked together.

Previous Chapter 5 - Something Soft, Something Sharp (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 6 (alt ending 1.2) - Veiled Realities

The gaming convention hall pulsed with energy—screens flashing with gameplay demos from various companies, creative souls showcasing their cosplays, excited chatter bouncing off the high ceilings, and the occasional triumphant shout from someone winning a round. You kept your barely see-through-only for you-hood low, blending seamlessly with the crowd as you moved toward your company’s booth. The email from your employee still sat in your inbox, her words playing on a loop in your mind:

“I wanted to bring to your attention a concerning issue that has been occurring within our team. Certain male employees have been engaging in inappropriate behavior towards their female colleagues, making comments that suggest women do not belong in the gaming industry.

Despite providing multiple rounds of workplace etiquette training, these individuals continue to make such remarks, often doing so after the training sessions have concluded. While we have attempted to address the situation discreetly, the behavior has persisted and is becoming increasingly problematic.

I felt it was important to make you aware of this issue, even if no immediate action is taken, as you are committed to fostering an inclusive and respectful work environment.”

You weren’t about to let it slide.

Your gaze landed on your company’s booth, where a small group had gathered. Two men—mid-forties, loud with unwarranted confidence—were smirking as they leaned toward a younger woman who stood stiffly, her arms crossed.

“Come on,” one of them said, his voice dripping with condescension. “You can’t even finish a round without dying. How are you going to tell us what to do?”

“Yeah,” the other chimed in, his laugh grating. “We're not sexist or anything, but gaming’s just not your thing. Stick to HR or something.”

You gritted your teeth, the instinct to step in bubbling beneath the surface. But you held back, watching as the woman squared her shoulders and prepared to fire back. Before she could, you pulled out your phone. With a few quick taps, an email was swiftly dispatched to the CHRO, with the COO, CSO, CMO, and the event coordinator all included in the loop for informational purposes.

The response from the CHRO came immediately: "We’ll start the off-boarding right away."

Within minutes, the two men’s phones buzzed simultaneously. They frowned, pulling them out, only for their faces to pale.

“What the—”

“Fucking hell!”

They stared at their screens, then at each other, and finally back at the woman they’d been harassing. “It’s you—”

Before they could finish, your voice cut through, calm. “You have five minutes to vacate the premises, or security will escort you if needed.”

The woman blinked at you, her surprise quickly replaced by a smirk as the men stammered and shuffled off grumbling to gather their things. You turned away before she could say anything, your hood still obscuring your face.

Then a loud voice rang out. “No, no, NO! Game broken! Is not me! Me loyal fan!”

Heads turned, including yours, to a really tall man with bright white hair and pale skin standing at the demo station, gesturing wildly at the screen. His coat hung loosely around his shoulders, and he wore dark sunglasses indoors. With his striking appearance, he could easily model for Giorgio Armani.

“Mechanics! Broken! No strong! Me? Strongest!” he declared, his English so fractured and accented that it took you a moment to piece together what he was trying to say.

One of your employees—a nervous-looking junior—stammered, “Uh… sir, maybe you just need more practice?”

The man looked personally offended. “Me beat curse! Me GOAT!” He paused, frowned, and then switched to rapid Japanese, clearly too frustrated to stick with English.

The junior blinked, helplessly lost. “Uh… what?”

The woman who had been dealing with the earlier bullying snorted. “Looks like you’ve got competition, Steve,” she muttered, glaring at her now ex-coworker as they left before turning to the man. “Sir, maybe try again? Second round’s free.”

“Free?” His face lit up like a Christmas town. “Yay! Free! Strongest WIN!”

“Stop embarrassing yourself,” came a calm, deep voice from behind him.

You tilted your neck to see another man—a tall figure, though not quite as towering as his counterpart—impeccably dressed in black. Neatly styled blond hair framed his face. With his striking looks, he would make a perfect brand ambassador for Tom Ford or Bironi; he resembled a male Victoria's Secret model. Beneath his green-tinted glasses, his eyes flicked to the white-haired chaos generator with the resigned air of a pet parent.

The white-haired man turned to glare at him. “No embarrassing! Winning!”

“Winning,” the blond deadpanned, glancing at the screen where the white-haired one’s character had just been obliterated.

He pouted, muttering something in Japanese that sounded suspiciously like an insult, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

The blond man sighed heavily and said something in Japanese. “Sore wa gēmudesu. Kojin-tekina fukushūde wa arimasen.” (“It’s a game. Not a personal vendetta.”)

The white-haired one said something that the blond pointedly ignored. “Sō, fukushūda! Noroi o uchiyabutta. Subete o uchiyabutta, daga kono bakageta... Mekanikku dake wa!” (“Yes, it is vendetta! I beat curses; I beat everything, but this stupid... mechanics!”)

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but find the men’s voices incredibly attractive, even though they were completely different from each other—or was it the fact that they were speaking Japanese? Anyone with half a brain cell knew how undeniably masculine the language sounded.

“Anata to issho ni kurubekide wa nakatta to wakatte imashita.” The blond said, his tone clipped as he hovered by a different station, playing an older game in your company’s lineup—one that hadn’t done well financially but had won multiple awards and had a loyal following. (“I knew I shouldn’t have come with you.”)

You weren’t usually one to ogle men, but damn, the blond one’s biceps looked very chewable. Underneath his overcoat, you could imagine them flexing as he moved his fingers on the keyboard.

You immediately cringed at your own thoughts and made a mental note to stop spending so much time with your unhinged employees.

The white-haired one ignored him. “More round!” he yelled at the junior, who sighed and let him.

The man launched into another round, biting his lower lip in concentration like a child. Was that lip gloss?!

He was really close to perfecting the strike when the in-game AI learned his moves and took him down. He looked like he was about to cry, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at how adorable he was.

The blond’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes narrowing slightly in recognition—or perhaps suspicion. “You’re enjoying yourself?” he asked, his English perfect, despite the accent.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

The white-haired one suddenly perked up, finally noticing you. His eyes widened, and he jabbed a finger in your direction. “You! Pretty hoodie lady! Play?”

Caught off guard, you blinked, face still obscured by the hood. “Play what?”

“Game!” He gestured wildly at the screen. “Strongest win! You lose!”

The blond groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Gojo, stop harassing strangers.”

“Me no harass! Me... invite!” The Gojo declared, beaming at you.

Against your better judgment, you stepped closer, curiosity outweighing caution.

The woman from earlier smirked, stepping up to the console. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

“Think you better?” He grinned, clearly convinced he was about to crush you, then pointed at the blond. “Nanamin, see me!”

“Don’t call me that!” The blond spat at him, making you think—was ‘Nanamin’ a derogatory word in their language?

The blond furrowed his brow, his gaze flicking over you. Something about the way you carried yourself seemed… off. Not in a bad way, but something didn’t fit in his mind.

You slid into the seat across from Gojo, the monitors facing the opposite way. “Alright, fine. Let’s see what the ‘strongest’ has got.”

The first round was a blur of offensive movements and insults—Gojo threw out broken English mixed with Japanese, your focus entirely on the screen.

To your dismay, he was… good. Annoyingly good. You’d come up with the idea and then tested this game for over 5,000 hours. You were basically omniscient in it—knew every trick and exploit, but Gojo’s reflexes and instincts were ridiculous.

So you cheated.

Subtly, of course.

A quick input enabled God Mode, giving you just enough of an edge to win the round.

Within minutes, Gojo’s smug grin crumbled as you utterly demolished him in-game, your hands moving with muscle memory.

The blond, who had been watching silently, let out a low chuckle. “Looks like you’ve met your match, Gojo.”

Gojo froze, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the screen. “You cheat!”

You grinned, leaning back. “No, I’m just better,” you said smoothly, your voice calm. Inside, you panicked a little; he couldn’t have possibly known; your screen wasn’t facing him.

“Yes! CHEAT! Me see!” He tapped his temple. “Muttsu no me! Me see!” Then he made a gesture that encompassed the whole planet with his long, troll-like arms. (“Six eyes.”)

You smirked, but before you could respond, the blond interjected. “Gojo, you’re imagining things.”

“Sōzō janai yo! Kanojo wa hontōni zuru o shita nda! Anata mo mitadesho. Eigo de itte!” Gojo gestured wildly at Nanami, who barely glanced at him. (“I’m NOT imagining! She literally just cheated! You saw it too. Say it in English!”)

“You’re hallucinating,” the blond said flatly.

“I am NOT!”

“Yes, you are. You’re tired. No more video games; go sit down over there.” The blond had seen you cheat, but he wasn’t letting the opportunity to embarrass Gojo pass.

Gojo sputtered, clearly betrayed, while you fought to keep a straight face.

“Impossible!” Gojo huffed at you, but there was no malice in his tone, only a kind of begrudging admiration. “You… strong.”

You shrugged, pulling your hood up just enough to smile. “Told you.”

Gojo’s throat made a strangled sound that suspiciously resembled a mewl; he seemed like a nerd. “Me ahh Gojo Satoru. He Nanami Kento.” He pointed at the blond without looking away from you.

Nanami’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, his expression unreadable.

“So, Gojo and Nanami are your names? I believe Japan has a different naming convention, right?” You asked, steering the conversation away to avoid revealing your own name. Surrounded by a crowd, you felt uneasy about receiving random CVs and taking selfies with men whose hands seemed to wander a bit too freely.

Nanami was caught off guard by your knowledge. “You are correct. No, those are our surnames. He doesn’t know much English.”

He continued eyeing you with a poker face. “I don’t suppose you’d tell us your name?”

You scrambled to respond, giving them your gamer tag, which sounded surprisingly like a real name.

Gojo laughed, while Nanami’s gaze remained fixed on you. “Pardon my English, but I meant your real name.” He looked a bit smug as if saying, I-didn’t-stutter.

Damn! They were too perceptive. “Maybe next time,” you said, already rising to your feet, turning on your heel, and slipping into the crowd before they could press further.

You could feel their eyes on you, with Nanami’s gaze lingering the longest, as if he were piecing together a puzzle.

Later, after you walked out of the convention hall and made your way toward the food stalls, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. You’d come to check on your team and ended up with a story you’d never forget.

Unbeknownst to you, Gojo was still at the booth, raving about the “mysterious hoodie lady” who was, in his words, “gaming goddess.” Nanami simply shook his head, filing away the memory of your smile for reasons he didn’t fully understand.

Nanami commented, “We never got her name.”

Gojo, beaming, muttered, “Me find her. Strongest reserves rematch.”

Nanami rubbed his temple. “It’s ‘deserves.’”

Gojo waved him off. “Ya ya that!”

//

Hours later, you stepped outside to go home.

The alley was dimly lit, the faint glow of a flickering streetlamp casting long shadows against the brick walls. You tugged your hood tighter, the weight of the day settling heavily on your shoulders as you made your way through. Just as you reached the halfway point, angry voices broke the quiet, followed by the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps closing in.

“You think you can fire us just like that?” One of the men sneered, his face twisted with rage as he stepped into view. His friend loomed beside him, cracking his knuckles with an air of smugness.

You stopped, turning slowly to face them. Your pulse quickened, but you kept your tone cold. “I don’t think,” you replied, as you shifted into a defensive stance. “I know.”

The first man lunged, and you dodged, pivoting on your heel to avoid his clumsy attack. Your brain kicked into overdrive, calculating angles and weaknesses as you landed a solid kick to his shin, your heels digging in. He stumbled, cursing, but his friend was already charging at you.

You ducked, your fists up, but you weren’t trained for this. They were bigger, stronger, and clearly fueled by rage. Damn it, you thought bitterly, wishing you’d waited for Megumi—or at least brought your security detail in regular clothes.

“HEY!”

The voice boomed down the alley, startling everyone. You froze mid-dodge, turning toward the source of the voice.

Gojo stood at the entrance, his white hair glowing faintly under the streetlamp. His grin feral, hands shoved casually into his pockets. “What this? Fight? Without me?” His English was awful, the words garbled but unmistakably confident.

Behind him, Nanami appeared with the air of someone ready to ruin someone’s day. His eyes locked on the men, his expression grim. “Let’s divide and conquer.”

What followed was a masterclass in contrasts, a scene you’d replay in your mind for days.

Gojo’s opponent barely had time to process the incoming whirlwind before Gojo sidestepped his first punch with an exaggerated lean, one hand cupping his chin as if bored. “Loser shit,” he said.

The man swung again, and Gojo ducked low, popping up behind him like a magician revealing his latest trick. “Try harder! Or you go home?” His English faltered, and he switched to Japanese mid-sentence, gesturing at the alley’s exit.

Frustrated, the man lunged, but Gojo pivoted effortlessly, his movements mocking. “Ah-ah!” he teased, flicking the man’s forehead with enough force to send him faltering back. He could have actually flicked him through the wall, but he was trying to impress you, not terrify you. Then, with a theatrical spin, he delivered a sharp kick to the back of the man’s knees, sending him crashing to the ground.

“Strongest wins!” Gojo declared triumphantly as the man groaned in pain.

Meanwhile, Nanami was a study in calm brutality. His opponent came at him swinging, fists wild and uncoordinated. Nanami stepped to the side, his movements smooth, allowing the man’s momentum to carry him forward.

The attacker stumbled, and Nanami seized the opportunity. A precise jab to the spine sent the man gasping, doubling over in pain. Without missing a beat, Nanami delivered a swift knee to the stomach, his face utterly impassive as his opponent crumpled to the ground.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, adjusting his collar with indifference.

Within moments, both men were on the ground, groaning and defeated as the security—who’d arrived mid-fight—dragged them away.

Gojo glanced over at Nanami. “Why so serious, Nanamin?!”

Nanami shot him a flat look. That was the only phrase Gojo knew properly.

Gojo turned to you, his grin impossibly wide. “Hoodie lady! You okay?”

You adjusted your hood, making sure your face stayed hidden, though a faint smile tugged at your lips. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

Nanami stepped closer, his gaze lingering on you with quiet intensity. “You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said, his tone edged with concern.

“I can handle myself,” you replied, though your voice softened.

“Clearly,” Nanami said, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out to see a notification from your ride. “Well, thanks again for saving me.”

You turned to leave, but Gojo moved faster than you could anticipate, stepping into your space with a speed that made your heart skip. He leaned in, his face far too close as he tilted his head, his eyes still obscured by the ridiculous sunglasses. “Name,” he demanded, his tone expectant.

“Gojo,” Nanami barked, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking him back. “Control yourself.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, still obscured by your barely see-through hood.

Well, they did save you, and no one was around right now, but they could be stalkers. So you only told them your nickname, essentially half your first name.

Gojo repeated it, his accent thick as he rolled the syllables around in his mouth like a taste he wanted to savor. Nanami echoed it under his breath, committing it to memory with far more subtlety. You had never loved your name more.

Gojo clapped his hands together, his grin as bright as the streetlamp above. “Okaaay, now us food! You come us!”

You blinked at him, bewildered.

Nanami immediately choked, “My apologies, my colleague means, would you like to join us for dinner?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Maybe next time. My grumpy ride is here.”

Before they could argue, you slipped past them as the soft hum of a sleek black Maserati cut through the alley’s quiet. The car glided to a stop, the sharp lines of its body catching the faint light from the streetlamp. The door opened smoothly, revealing a young Japanese man with sea urchin spiky black hair and a scowl sharp enough to rival Nanami’s deadliest glare.

He stepped out, his tailored suit pristine despite the late hour. His deep blue eyes swept over the scene, narrowing slightly as they landed on Gojo and Nanami. There was no mistaking the barely contained irritation in his expression as he glared daggers at the two men.

You smiled faintly as you approached and side-hugged him; his gaze softened, though the crease in his brow remained.

“You’re late,” he muttered, holding the door open for you. His English and accent perfectly matched yours, so Gojo deduced he definitely hadn’t lived in Japan much.

“You’re crabby,” you replied, sliding into the passenger seat.

“I wouldn’t be if you didn’t insist on wandering into alleys like this,” he said, his tone exasperated but tinged with familiarity. He cast one last glance at Gojo and Nanami, his lips curling slightly in what could only be described as a warning.

“Wait... you sent the security?” You asked, tone surprised.

“Yes.” He clipped, tone not revealing much. You’d later learn that the men who’d tried to hit you disappeared under mysterious circumstances after tonight. When you asked Megumi, he’d just glare at you and mutter about not having time to look into freeloaders.

Gojo tilted his head, his six eyes narrowing as he watched the interaction with growing curiosity. Nanami too had his gaze locked on the Maserati as the young man slipped back into the driver’s seat. The way his hand lingered on the steering wheel, his face scanning you for injuries. His head tilted slightly toward you as you spoke, suggesting something closer than casual acquaintance.

Nanami thought of looking you or the young man up on LinkedIn only to realize he never actually saw your face or knew the man’s name.

As the car pulled away, the faint glow of the interior lights illuminated your face behind the dark-tinted windows for just a moment. Gojo’s grin widened as he caught a glimpse of your smile, and Nanami’s eyes narrowed as he committed the fleeting image to memory for some reason he still didn’t understand.

Gojo’s eyes remained fixed on you as the guy driving whisked you away, scolding you for not waiting for him.

Nanami was also watching your retreating car in the distance. His thoughts lingered on the brief glimpse of your smile—the only part of you they’d truly seen. “Boyfriend?” He asked.

Gojo smirked, “You are awfully curious today, Nanamin.” Switching back to Japanese.

“Just answer the question.”

“I’m actually not sure. But the boy is a Zen'in; interestingly enough, the one’s father I killed before Suguru ran away.”

Gojo’s smile widened as you removed the hood from your face a few meters away. He had never been more grateful for his six eyes.

Good. He had a face now.

He clapped Nanami on the back. “Hoodie lady is full of surprises.”

Nanami’s expression remained unreadable. “You don’t even know her full name.”

Gojo’s grin only widened. “I’ll find her.”

Little did you know you had just met your future husbands.

//

After ensuring a safe distance between you and the men he’d encountered, your best friend turned to you, his expression serious. “Stay away from those two; they are sorcerers.”

"But aren't you?"

He immediately cut you off, "I only share the bloodline nothing else. You know what sorcerers did to my father. Besides, I think it was one of them."

You understood the weight of Megumi’s words, but you also knew why his father had been killed. It wasn’t because sorcerers were inherently dangerous, but because he had been too much of a thrill-seeker. “You do realize I’m not your child, right? I’m older than you.”

“Well, that’s too damn bad, Grandma.”

“Heyy!”

He chuckled to himself, but the laughter quickly faded as he asked, “What did they want with you anyway?” He was trying hard not to let you know he was probing.

“Nothing. They just wanted to know my name, and I kept dodging it with pseudonyms. Then they asked me to dinner, and I told them next time. But you don’t have to worry about it. I don’t think I’d ever see them again.” You said this absentmindedly, focused on ordering takeout on your phone before you arrived home.

“Good. Keep it that way. Don’t entertain them again.”

“Italian?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation.

“Get that Spinach and Broccoli Alfredo from that small place. Put it on my card.” He liked the dish, but it wasn’t his go-to for special occasions; it was yours.

“Aww, what’s the occasion?”

“You almost getting beaten up.”

You scowled at him.

“Relax. I’m just making sure you’re okay, or my father will resurrect himself and beat my ass.” He laughed, but there was an edge to his humor.

You thought of the men for a few days, their faces lingering in your mind, but you quickly moved on with your hectic life. You were determined not to let Megumi down. He didn’t have many friends besides you that he’d hang out with, let alone have around with his mom, and with his dad gone, he’d never recover from the betrayal if something happened to you.

But when had you ever listened to Megumi?

Today, you wished you had.

--

After they’d left you alone, the days bled together in a haze of exhaustion and dread. You busied yourself with the mundane tasks of preparing for the twins, folding impossibly tiny clothes, and arranging bottles on the counter like talismans against the pain threatening to consume you. Sukuna had been true to his word, filling the gaps with his presence and resources, but even his towering strength couldn’t shield you from the memories.

Each kick, each flutter, was a visceral reminder of the life growing inside you—a life you were determined to protect. Yet, every movement felt like a betrayal, a reminder of the faces you couldn’t erase. Gojo’s sharp grin, dulled now by sorrow. Nanami’s stoicism, cracking under the weight of his regret. They haunted you, their voices whispering in the silence of your nights, their hands ghosting over your skin in dreams that turned to nightmares.

One evening, Sukuna returned, his silhouette framed by the doorway. He carried bags of groceries, the muscles in his arms flexing as he set them down with more care than you thought him capable of. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by something foreign: concern.

“You’re wearing yourself thin,” he said, his voice rough but quiet. His crimson eyes swept over you, lingering on the trembling in your hands as you folded a onesie.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, though the lie sat heavy in your chest.

“Princess,” he said again, softer now, and the nickname cracked something inside you. “You’re not fine.”

Your hands froze mid-fold, the fabric slipping from your fingers. The room seemed to tilt, the walls closing in. “I don’t know how to do this,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Sukuna crossed the room in three strides, his arms encircling you. His touch was firm, grounding, and you let yourself lean into him. “You’re doing it,” he murmured against your hair. “And you’re not alone.”

But the words couldn’t reach the hollow ache inside you.

//

The next day, the soft knock at the door was more polite than usual, almost hesitant. Sukuna didn’t wait for you to answer—he never did; he never even knocked—but this time, he lingered in the doorway, his hulking frame lit by the warm glow of the sunlight filtering in through the window. His expression was unreadable, though the faintest flicker of something nervous passed through his crimson eyes.

In his hands, he held a large box, haphazardly wrapped in crinkled newspaper and secured with what looked like electrical tape.

“What is that?” You asked, narrowing your eyes.

He grunted, stepping inside and setting the box down on the coffee table with a thud. “It’s for them,” he said, jerking his chin toward your stomach.

You blinked, thrown off by the unexpected gesture. “You got them… a gift?”

He shot you a glare, defensive already. “Don’t make it weird. It’s not a big deal.”

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you shuffled over to the box, careful to lower yourself onto the couch. Sukuna watched, his arms crossed over his chest, as you peeled back the layers of tape and newspaper.

Inside was chaos.

A mishmash of items tumbled out—two tiny leather jackets, complete with spikes on the shoulders; a set of Blobfish plushies; and what could only be described as baby-sized combat boots, polished to a mirror shine.

Your jaw dropped. “Sukuna… what the hell is this?”

He shrugged, his smirk returning, though it was softer than usual. “Gear. For when they’re old enough to not embarrass me.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up, loud and uncontrollable. It startled even you, breaking through the thick fog of grief and exhaustion that had clung to you for days. “Spiked leather jackets? Combat boots? What are they, tiny bikers?”

“They’re going to be strong,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact as he dropped onto the armchair across from you. “Might as well dress the part.”

You shook your head, still laughing as you held up one of the jackets. It was absurdly small, the spikes dulled for safety. “This is so extra.”

“You’re welcome,” he shot back, though the faint twitch of his lips betrayed his satisfaction at your reaction.

You set the jacket down, your laughter fading into a softer smile. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Sukuna leaned back, his gaze locking onto yours with a rare intensity. “I know,” he said simply.

For a moment, the room was quiet, the air between you charged with something unspoken. He broke the silence first, waving a hand toward the mess of items on the table. “I’m not saying they’ll ever use this crap. Just… figured it might make you laugh.”

Your chest tightened, the ache of loss mingling with something warmer, something unfamiliar. “It did,” you admitted, your voice softer now.

“Good.” He stood abruptly, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “I’ll pick up something more normal next time. Maybe. Only if you drink enough water.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “Please don’t. This is perfect.”

Sukuna’s smirk widened as he swaggered toward the door. Just before he left, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder, and said, “I’m not going anywhere, Princess.”

In a moment that could only be described as peak Sukuna, he turned to make his grand exit, only for his nose to collide with the door frame with a resounding thud.

“Stupid... who put this here?” He grumbled, rubbing his nose furiously as if it were the door’s fault for existing. You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the room like a cackling hyena.

“Maybe it’s a sign you should start ducking!” You teased, and he shot you a look that was half annoyed, half amused, like a cat that had just been splashed with water, but it was warm.

“I’ll just buy a bigger door!” He retorted, throwing his hands up in exaggerated exasperation.

With that, he turned to leave again, but not before bumping his head against the door frame once more, muttering, “This door is clearly out to get me.” You couldn’t help but laugh even harder.

And then he was gone, leaving you surrounded by the absurdity he’d brought with him. You looked down at the tiny jackets and boots, your hand resting on your stomach as the twins stirred softly. Maybe your laughing did calm them.

//

Same night, your bedroom was cold, the soft glow of a nightlight casting shadows that seemed to shift with your every movement. You slept in the center of the room, one hand resting on your swollen belly. The twins kicked softly, their presence grounding and tormenting you in equal measure.

The guilt was a living thing, coiled tight around your chest. Sukuna had done everything—more than you could have asked for—but the lie you’d spun had fangs. Each day, it bit deeper, carving wounds you couldn’t heal.

You woke screaming, clutching your stomach as panic clawed at your throat. Sukuna was there in an instant, his hands steady on your shoulders, his voice sharp and commanding. “What is it?”

“They’re going to take them,” your voice raw and broken. “They’ll find a way.”

“No one’s taking anything,” his crimson eyes blazing with an intensity that should have comforted you. But the storm inside you raged on.

“You don’t know them,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “They’ll stop at nothing.”

Sukuna cupped your face, his touch surprisingly gentle in his large hands. “They won’t get near you. Not while I’m here.”

But his words were like whispers against a hurricane. You turned away, your gaze falling to the crib, its bars a reminder of the prison you’d built around your heart.

“I’ll protect you,” you murmured to the twins, your hands trembling as you traced the curve of your stomach. “Even if it kills me.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence heavy and oppressive.

“I won’t let you die.” Sukuna whispered. You turned to look at him only to be kissed by him on your temple. It wasn’t anything passionate; it was as if he was sealing a promise.

//

The next morning, you shuffled into the living room, your back aching from another restless night. The twins had been unusually active, their cursed energy—or at least what you deduced was cursed energy—pressing against your insides like waves crashing against fragile glass. You’d woken up drenched in sweat, the faint outline of one of their hands or feet briefly visible under your skin before retreating into the shadows of your body. It was horrifying and beautiful, and you hated that you didn’t know how to feel about it.

Sukuna was already in the living room, sitting on the floor, a cup of coffee in his hand. He glanced up as you entered, his crimson eyes scanning you like he could read every thought you were trying to suppress.

“You look worse than usual,” he said, his voice cutting but not cruel.

“Thanks,” you muttered, dropping onto the couch with a wince.

He didn’t respond right away, just set his cup down, straightened and stretched, his maroon hoodie riding up, revealing markings on his stomach. He watched you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. Despite being on the floor, he was somehow on eye level with you.

After a moment, he stood and disappeared into the kitchen. You didn’t have the energy to ask what he was doing.

When he returned, he was holding a glass of water and a small bowl filled with neatly peeled and cut fruit. He handed them to you without a word, his hand lingering for a moment as you took the bowl.

“Eat,” he said simply, sitting back down on the floor in front of you.

You stared at the fruit. “You didn’t have to—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “Just eat.”

You did, the sweet and sourness of the fruits grounding you. Sukuna watched, his gaze flicking between your face and your stomach.

After a while, he spoke again, his voice softer. “You hate looking at yourself, don’t you?”

Your breath caught; you definitely had a type. Type that kept seeing through your lies!

You didn’t answer, but the way you looked away was answer enough.

Sukuna shifted closer, resting his forearms on his knees. “Can I?”

You frowned, unsure. “Why?”

“Just trust me, Princess,” he said, his smirk faint but not unkind.

Reluctantly, you let him. His hands moved to your baby balloon, his touch firm but careful, soothing you as he pressed his palms against the curve.

“Feel that?” he murmured as one of the twins shifted beneath his hand, the movement almost shy.

You nodded, your throat tight.

“They’re strong,” he said, his voice steady. “They know you’re protecting them.”

Another flutter beneath your skin, this one softer, more deliberate. Sukuna’s hands didn’t move, his warmth radiating through you like a shield against the chill that had settled in your bones.

“You’re not broken,” he said after a moment, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “And you’re not alone in this.”

“You sure are comfortable touching them now.” You teased.

He snorted. “And here I thought I was helping you feel better.”

You laughed and closed your eyes as the twins settled, their energy calming under the weight of his words. The war inside you felt a little less unbearable.

//

A few days later, the apartment was warm, sunlight streaming through the half-open blinds and landing in soft streaks across the living room floor. You sat on the couch, one hand absently resting on your stomach while the other scrolled through your phone. You weren’t looking at anything in particular, just trying to distract yourself from the relentless ache in your lower back and the twins’ ongoing UFC match in your uterus.

Sukuna walked in, carrying a bag of groceries like it was filled with feathers as usual. His broad shoulders filled the doorway as he kicked it shut behind him. He looked at you, then at the untouched snack bowl on the coffee table, then back at you.

“You didn’t eat the strawberries I cut,” he said flatly, setting the bag down.

“I wasn’t hungry,” you replied without looking up.

“You’re always hungry,” he shot back, folding his arms.

You finally glanced up at him, raising a brow. “Maybe I’m evolving.”

He snorted, dropping onto the armchair across from you. “Yeah, into a cranky gargoyle. What’s up with you today?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, your tone too breezy.

His eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating. “Bullshit.”

You sighed, setting your phone down. “I’m fine, Sukuna. Can’t a woman just sit in peace without being interrogated?”

“Not when that woman’s got two cursed powerhouses doing cartwheels inside her,” he replied, his smirk faint but pointed.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the couch. “I’m just tired, okay?”

He stared at you for a long moment, his crimson eyes flicking to your stomach, then back to your face.

“You’re not tired,” he said finally, his voice quieter. “You feel weird. About your body.”

Your head snapped up, your mouth opening to protest, but he cut you off with a raised hand.

“Don’t even try to deny it,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You’re confident, sure. You’re also human. You’re carrying their demon spawns, and it’s messing with your head. I’d feel weird too.”

You blinked, thrown off by the bluntness of his words. “That’s… not exactly how I’d put it.”

“Whatever,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “Point is, you’re not as slick as you think you are, Princess.”

You stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or be offended. “And what, you’re here to be my body image coach now?”

“Very perceptive of you,” he said, standing abruptly. He grabbed the bag of groceries and pulled out a tub of chocolate ice cream and a loaf of bread. Even your cravings weren’t original from your husbands.

“What are you doing?” you asked, watching in bemusement as he started slathering jam on a slice of bread.

“Making you a snack,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Pickle and peanut butter sandwich. Ice cream chaser. Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“That’s disgusting,” you said, wrinkling your nose.

“Yeah, well, so’s the idea of that white-haired one being someone’s dad, but here we are,” he quipped, tossing the sandwich onto a plate and handing it to you.

You stared at the monstrosity, then at him. “This is your solution to my body issues? Weird snacks?”

“No,” he said, sitting back down and gesturing at you with a flourish. “My solution is this: you’re hot, you’re badass, and if anyone says otherwise, I’ll break their spine. But you’re also you, which means you’re allowed to feel weird about turning into a walking incubator for two special-grade cursed-energy gremlins. Doesn’t mean you’re less of anything.”

You blinked. “That’s… oddly sweet.”

“I aim to please,” he grumbled, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. “Now eat the sandwich before I change my mind.”

You laughed, taking a tentative bite of the pickle-peanut butter monstrosity. It was terrible, but for some reason, it made you feel a little better.

//

The next day, the air was crisp, the kind of weather that made the leaves crunch underfoot and the sunlight feel softer. Sukuna strolled beside you, a reusable shopping bag slung over his shoulder like a fashion statement, his other hand steadying you as you waddled along the cobblestone path of the farmer’s market, your face obscured by a large mask. The twins had been kicking non-stop since breakfast, and your back felt like it was holding the weight of the world.

“I don’t know why you dragged me here,” you muttered, squinting at a stall of overpriced honey jars.

“Because you’ve been sulking for days,” Sukuna replied, smirking. “And I’m tired of watching you fold tiny clothes and cry about it.”

Before you could retort, he veered off toward a stall selling baby onesies, grabbing one with a print of a cartoon goat that read Mommy’s Little Terror. He held it up, raising a brow. “This fits their vibe.”

You snorted despite yourself. “They’re not even born yet, and you’re assigning them a vibe?”

“Yeah,” he said, tossing it into the bag. “And this.” He grabbed another onesie, this one pink and emblazoned with Future World Domination Leader.

You laughed, leaning on his arm for support as the twins shifted again. Sukuna noticed immediately, crouching slightly to meet your eyes. “Tired?”

“A little,” you admitted, though your body screamed a lot.

Without a word, he scooped you up effortlessly, one arm under your knees and the other supporting your back. “What are you—put me down!”

“Shut up, Princess,” he said, grinning as heads turned to stare at the giant man carrying a visibly and heavily—maybe too heavily—pregnant woman like she weighed nothing. “You’ll thank me later.”

An older woman at a nearby stall clasped her hands together, her face lighting up. “Oh, isn’t he just wonderful? So attentive!”

Sukuna didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, I’m pretty great,” he said, flashing her a cocky grin. “My wife’s a champ, though. Carrying our twins and still managing to look this bewitching.”

You groaned, burying your face in his shoulder. “Stoppp.”

He ignored you, turning his attention to the woman. “I’m so proud of her. She’s going to be an amazing birthgiver.”

The woman beamed, clearly swooning. “You’re both so lucky!”

“Yeah,” Sukuna said, his voice softening just enough for only you to hear. “I am.”

//

Later that week, Sukuna insisted on taking you grocery shopping. You protested, but he ignored you as usual, guiding you through the aisles with a hand on your lower back.

“Pickles?” he asked, holding up a jar with a raised brow.

You nodded, reaching for it, but he pulled it back. “What’s the magic word?”

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “Please.”

He handed it over with a smug grin. “See? Was that so hard?”

At the checkout, the cashier—a young woman with doe eyes—couldn’t stop glancing at Sukuna, her cheeks pink as she scanned the items.

“These pickles,” she started, clearly searching for a conversation starter. “A craving?”

Sukuna nodded solemnly. “Yeah. She’s eating for three, and I’m eating for stress.”

You choked on a laugh, swatting his arm. “Don’t listen to him.”

The cashier giggled nervously, her eyes lingering on Sukuna a moment too long. He didn’t even notice, too busy helping you into your coat and carrying all the bags in one hand like they weighed air.

Outside, you leaned against him, your feet aching. “You didn’t have to do all of that.”

He smirked, draping an arm around your shoulders. “Sure I did. It’s my job to keep you entertained.”

//

A couple of days later, at the park, Sukuna insisted on renting a swan paddle boat “for the twins.” The boat was comically small for his frame, his knees practically up to his chest as he paddled with exaggerated effort and heavy breaths.

“Why are we doing this?” you asked, trying not to laugh.

“Because I like suffering,” he said, glaring at the water like it had personally offended him.

He was doing it for you, to make you laugh as much as possible.

Then when you finally broke into giggles, he grinned, satisfied.

//

That night, when you struggled to sleep, Sukuna sat by your bed, massaging pain-relieving oils into your swollen ankles with surprising care. His hands were rough but gentle, his expression focused.

“You don’t have to do this,” you murmured, your voice thick with exhaustion.

He glanced up, his crimson eyes softer than you’d ever seen. “I know,” he said simply, his hands never faltering.

You fell asleep to the sound of his low, rumbling voice, humming an off-key lullaby he’d probably made up on the spot. His humming seemed to soothe the twins into no-cartwheeling sleep, which helped you relax for the night.

Sukuna never thought he could be perfect, but in those moments, he was everything you needed.

//

The next day, the yoga studio smelled faintly of lavender and freshly cleaned mats. Sukuna walked in beside you, his presence as imposing as ever. His crimson eyes swept over the room, narrowing slightly at the women who turned to gawk. He helped you settle onto your mat with the kind of careful attention that seemed absurd coming from someone like him, crouching to adjust the pillow beneath your knees before straightening to his full, towering height.

The murmurs started immediately. Low at first, barely audible, but growing louder with every second. You could feel the weight of their stares pressing against your skin, even through the mask you wore to keep a low profile.

Sukuna noticed too. His gaze darkened, his smirk vanishing as his eyes darted across the room. “What’s their problem?” he muttered under his breath.

You tried to ignore it, focusing on your breathing as the instructor began leading the class through stretches. But the whispers didn’t stop.

“She’s the one,” someone hissed, loud enough to reach your ears.

“Carrying twins,” another added, voice dripping with disdain.

You clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms. Sukuna’s head snapped toward the source of the voices, his expression hardening.

And then, of course, Karen appeared.

She strode across the room, her leggings pulled so high they might as well have been a second ribcage. Her smirk was cruel as she stopped in front of you.

The room went quiet. She loomed over you—as you were sitting on the floor—her arms crossed, her expression smug. “What’s it like being the talk of the internet? The woman who couldn’t keep her men in line?”

You felt Sukuna tense beside you, his hand twitching at his side. You placed a hand on his arm, silently telling him to hold back. “I’m here to practice yoga, not entertain you.”

Karen’s smirk widened, her gaze flicking over you like you were something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. “Practice yoga? That’s rich. You mean parading around with your ‘fake husband’ after your other two clowns beat people up? Gave people permanent injuries?”

Then she turned to Sukuna and continued, “Oh, I knew for a fact you were a chum who got stuck with her. I was right, and you lied.”

You kept your grip on Sukuna’s arm firm. You spoke calmly but firm. “Watch your mouth! First of all, don’t bring Sukuna into this. Second, I was the one holding them back. I didn’t incite it. I kept my employees alive that day.”

Karen’s gaze swept over you, landing on your stomach, clearly not ready to back off. “Honestly, it’s impressive,” she continued, her tone dripping with mockery. “First, you marry two men, and then you end up with him?”

Sukuna’s growl was low and guttural, his towering frame eclipsing hers. “Watch it.”

“Karen,” you yelled, “you don’t know anything about my life. You don’t know what I’ve been through, what I’ve survived.”

“Survived?” Karen scoffed. “You mean you survived your ‘unnatural ways’ coming out in front of the entire world? Or is it surviving the fact that no one takes you seriously anymore?”

“Sukuna,” you said, your voice lowering. “Let’s just go.”

Your stomach was churning, the weight of her words sinking in like lead. Sukuna’s hand rested lightly on you, grounding you, but even his presence couldn’t shield you from the growing stares around the room.

Karen stepped closer, looming over you, invading your personal space. It felt as though she might resort to physical violence with you at any moment. Her voice dropped, but the venom in her tone remained unmistakable. “People are calling you a sex addict, you know. Can’t say I blame them. Married to two men, pregnant with God knows who’s kids, and now cozying up to him?” She sneered. “You’re not just a scandal—you’re a disgrace. You can’t live without dick can you! What now? You’ll add him to your harem too, you whore! If I were in your place, I would have killed myself!”

The words hit like daggers, each one twisting deeper. Your breath caught, but before you could respond, Sukuna moved.

It happened in an instant.

You gasped, “Ryo!”

The slap cracked through the studio like a thunderclap, silencing the room. Karen stumbled, clutching her cheek, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

Sukuna loomed over her, his towering frame casting a shadow that swallowed her whole. His voice was low, a growl that rumbled through the silence. “Say one more word, and I’ll make sure you never speak again.”

Karen’s confidence crumbled instantly, her wide-eyed shock betraying the venom she’d spewed moments ago. She glanced around the room, searching for someone—anyone—to come to her defense, but the silence was deafening. The other mothers avoided her gaze, their expressions a mix of discomfort and quiet satisfaction.

Her husband wasn’t there, of course. He’d finally had enough of her tirades, her endless need to dominate every room she walked into. The divorce papers had already been filed, and his absence spoke louder than any words ever could. Karen, with her toxic cocktail of insecurity and unchecked cruelty, had been left with nothing but her bitterness.

She didn’t belong here. She wasn’t pregnant and had no intention of ever being so. For years, she’d come to these classes not to bond or prepare for motherhood but to belittle and bully anyone she deemed weaker. She was a relic of high school, clinging to the power she once wielded over others, desperate to make someone else feel smaller to distract from her own failures.

Today, you had been her target. Her divorce had clearly left her hellbent on tearing someone else down, and she might’ve succeeded—she might’ve even turned to violence—if Sukuna hadn’t intervened. You were glad Sukuna didn’t see gender while serving people their karma.

Your heart pounded, but you forced yourself to stand—or try to. A sharp cramp shot through your side, stealing your breath. You stumbled, clutching your stomach as the twins shifted violently.

Sukuna caught you before you could fall, his hands steadying you as he glared at Karen.

His growl cut through the silence. “We’re leaving,” he said, his voice cold and final.

He didn’t move at first, his glare fixed on Karen like a wolf deciding whether the hunt was worth it, like debating whether she deserved another hit.

Finally, he relented, his muscles relaxing as he focused on you. “I’ll get you a private instructor,” he added, his tone softening as he looked at you.

The twins stirred. Pain shot through your abdomen, and you gasped, clutching at Sukuna’s shirt.

“Hang on,” he muttered, his voice softening as he carried you out of the studio.

Behind you, Karen stood frozen, her face pale and her cheek still burning red. No one moved to comfort her. No one even looked at her. The only sound in the room was the quiet creak of the door as it closed behind you.

//

Once in the car, you buried your face in his chest, your breathing erratic. He held you close, his large hand stroking your hair awkwardly but gently.

“Don’t listen to them,” he said, his voice firm but uncharacteristically tender. “Only you know the truth. Only you know what you went through and how you survived.”

//

The ride home was quiet. Sukuna carried you inside, settling you on the couch with the kind of gentleness that made your chest ache.

But the silence stretched on, and the weight of Karen’s words pressed down on you like a vice. The twins shifted again, their energy erratic, feeding off your turmoil.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Sukuna crouched in front of you, his large hands resting on your knees. “Don’t,” he said firmly. “Don’t apologize for insecure humans.”

You nodded, but the hollow ache in your chest didn’t ease.

As the hours passed, you found yourself staring out the window, the city lights blurring as tears filled your eyes.

Sukuna stayed close, his presence steady but silent. When the tears finally came, hot and unrelenting, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as you cried.

And though he didn’t say it, his arms were a fortress around you as the world outside kept spinning, cruel and unforgiving. He silently vowed that no one would ever hurt you again.

//

Days after that, the silence that pressed down on your chest and made it hard to breathe. You sat curled up on the couch, an old photo clutched tightly in your hands. It was worn at the edges, the glossy finish dulled from countless times you’d held it. In it, Gojo was grinning, his arm slung lazily over Nanami’s shoulders. You were in the middle, laughing at something you couldn’t remember now, your face lit with a happiness that felt like it belonged to someone else. The pain it brought was sharp, raw, an open wound that refused to heal no matter how much time passed.

Maybe you didn’t love them anymore—not in the way you once had. That love had been replaced by something darker, heavier. But the ache of what they’d done to you, the way they’d left you to drown in your own loneliness while they found comfort in each other… it consumed you.

You didn’t hear Sukuna until he was standing in the doorway, his broad frame silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” he asked, his voice softer than usual but still carrying that edge of exasperation.

You startled, quickly tucking the photo under your thigh. “I’m not doing anything.”

His crimson eyes narrowed, and he crossed the room in two strides, crouching down in front of you. “Don’t lie to me, Princess. You’re terrible at it.”

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I just… I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have left.”

The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but they were out before you could stop them. Sukuna’s expression shifted to something unreadable.

“You’re joking,” he said, his voice flat.

“I’m not,” you whispered, your hands trembling in your lap. “I mean, they didn’t care about me, not really, but… I still left, and so much happened. People got hurt.”

“You kept the people alive!” Sukuna said, his tone sharper now. He leaned closer, his crimson eyes boring into yours. “You walked away because they didn’t deserve you.”

You shook your head, the tears falling faster now. “What if I made a mistake? What if I should’ve tried harder? Maybe none of this would have happened.”

“Stop,” Sukuna snapped, his voice cutting through your spiral. He grabbed your chin gently but firmly, forcing you to look at him. “Do you really think that despite one of them having the gift of six eyes, if he still couldn’t see the life growing inside you, they wouldn’t have taken you for granted through the pregnancy as well?! They’re the ones who fucked up. Not you. They had you—you—and they chose to ignore you. That’s on them, not you.”

The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten, but the doubt still lingered. “But—”

“No,” he interrupted, his thumb brushing against your jaw in a soft gesture. “No ‘but.’ You didn’t leave because you stopped loving them. You left because they stopped showing you they loved you.”

His words cracked something in you, like an old vase you never saw but always sensed the presence of in your heart’s home.

You let out a shaky breath, the photo slipping from your lap and landing face-up on the couch. Sukuna glanced at it, his jaw tightening for a moment before he reached for it. He studied it silently, his thumb brushing over your smiling face.

“They didn’t deserve this version of you,” he said, his voice low. “And they sure as hell don’t deserve the you now.”

The warmth in his words, the unguarded softness, made your heart ache in a different way. He handed the photo back to you, his hand lingering over yours for a moment.

“I’m not saying it’ll stop hurting,” he admitted, his crimson eyes meeting yours. “But don’t waste your time wondering if you should’ve stayed. You didn’t leave for no reason. Remember the past version of yourself in that exact moment when everything was crumbling around you. What you felt. Don’t put yourself through that.”

You nodded, the weight in your chest easing just slightly. Sukuna stood, offering you his hand. “Come on,” he said, his smirk returning faintly. “You’ve been crying for hours. Let me make you something to eat before you wither away. Besides, you deserve better. Better than them. Better than what they gave you.”

Then smugly added, “Someone as amazing as me.”

Despite yourself, you laughed softly, taking his hand.

//

The first signs came like whispers in the dark—a sharp, fleeting twinge low in your abdomen, a dull ache spreading like ripples in water. You brushed it off as stress, convincing yourself it was nothing.

But Sukuna noticed. He always noticed.

His crimson eyes tracked your every move, narrowing at the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your hand lingering on your belly a beat too long.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you lied, forcing a smile.

His gaze hardened, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “You’re a terrible liar, Princess.”

That evening, as you struggled to stand after dinner, a sharp gasp escaped your lips. Sukuna was at your side in an instant, his large hand steadying you.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice brooking no argument. “We’re going to the hospital.”

You tried to protest, but the look in his eyes silenced you.

// Music

{The hospital was cold, sterile as usual. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting harsh shadows on the linoleum floors. The smell of antiseptic clung to everything, making your stomach churn.

You sat on the examination table, the thin paper gown sticking uncomfortably to your skin. The room felt too bright, too exposed. Sukuna sat beside you, his broad frame dwarfing the small plastic chair. His expression was unreadable, but his hand rested on his knee, the tension in his fingers betraying his calm façade. The fake husband playing the role perfectly.

The doctor entered, her face carefully neutral, but you caught the hesitation in her movements.

“Let’s take a look,” she said, her tone professional but soft.

The ultrasound gel was cold against your skin, and the room silent except for the faint hum of the machine. You stared at the monitor, waiting for the familiar sound of their heartbeats.

But the silence stretched on.

The doctor’s brow furrowed, her hand pausing over the probe.

“What is it?” Sukuna’s voice was tense.

The doctor hesitated, her hand hovering over the ultrasound machine as though the pause could soften the blow. Her eyes flicked to you, then back to the screen, her expression unreadable.

“I’m… not detecting a heartbeat.”

The words knocked the air from your lungs.

“No,” the denial spilling out before you could think. Your voice trembled, barely audible. “No, that’s not right. They were moving. Just yesterday. I felt them. I was craving pickles, and I had really bad back pain too; they were moving so much.”

The doctor’s face was heavy with sympathy as she set the probe down. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, the room tilting around you. Your hand flew to your stomach, pressing against the curve as if your touch could summon them back, as if you could will them to respond. “They can’t be gone,” you choked out, your voice breaking.

The doctor took a breath, her voice steady but clinical, as if detachment could lessen the cruelty of what she had to say. “It’s an extraordinarily rare case—heteropaternal superfecundation combined with double fertilization. Their development was… incompatible with life.”

The medical jargon felt cruel, meaningless. Just noise.

Sukuna’s hand found yours, his grip firm, grounding, but it only highlighted how far away you felt. It made it real. His jaw was clenched, his crimson eyes darker than you’d ever seen, but he said nothing. He couldn’t.

Your head spun, the walls closing in, the fluorescent lights glaring like they were trying to expose every raw nerve. The doctor’s voice faded, a dull hum drowned out by the pounding of your own heartbeat.

“They were mine,” you whispered.

Sukuna leaned closer, his hand steady against your back.

The doctor excused herself quietly, the door clicking shut behind her. The silence that followed pressed against your chest like a weight you couldn’t lift.

You sat frozen, your hand still pressed to your stomach, waiting for something—anything. A kick, a flutter, some proof that they were still there.

But there was nothing.

You curled into yourself, clutching your stomach as though you could shield what was already gone.

“They were mine,” you repeated, the words a broken mantra. “They were mine.”

Sukuna’s grip was almost bruising. His other arm wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest.

He didn’t speak, didn’t try to fill the silence with empty reassurances. He just held you, his breath steady against your hair as your world fell apart.

After months of crying, your tears had finally run out. You couldn’t will them now, not that you wanted to.

You were done.

The dissociation came slowly, creeping in like a shadow. You faded into hollow silence, your body still in his arms. You stared at the floor, your eyes unfocused, your mind retreating into a void where the suffering couldn’t reach you.

Sukuna’s voice broke through the fog, low and firm. “Stay with me, Princess.”

But you couldn’t. Not anymore.

The hollowness swallowed you whole, leaving nothing but the ghost of what could have been.

But Sukuna stayed, his presence a steady anchor in the storm, an anchor you couldn’t see.

//

The procedure to remove them was a nightmare. The machines beeped; the cold metal of the instruments glinted, their sharp edges catching your eye and filling your chest with dread.

Sukuna stood by your side. His hand wrapped around yours like a hazy lifeline, anchoring you to a reality you didn’t care about.

His crimson eyes never left your face, his expression unreadable but tense, his jaw set as though he could will the universe to reverse itself by sheer force.

The procedure began, the doctor’s voice a muted hum in the background. Pressure built in your abdomen, the sensation alien and invasive, like something being torn away from the core of your existence. You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste grounding you.

But you didn’t scream no matter how much it hurt. You couldn’t bring yourself to care whether you made it or if the universe would be kind enough to end it all through a freak incident of medical malpractice.

Sukuna didn’t flinch, didn’t move, his grip tightening as if to remind you he was there. The machines continued their cold, unfeeling symphony, and the minutes stretched into an eternity.

//

When it was over, there was only silence. The absence of their presence, a void that swallowed everything else.

The doctor murmured something to Sukuna, her words slipping past you like water over stone. You sat up shakily, the hospital gown sticking to your damp skin, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts. But mind wasn’t there.

“I want to see them,” you whispered. “Please.”

Sukuna was in front of you in an instant, his broad chest blocking your view as he pulled you into his arms. His grip was firm but careful, cradling you as though you might shatter as the doctors moved discreetly behind him.

“No,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “You don’t want to see them, Princess. Trust me.”

You clutched at his shirt with trembling hands. “They were mine,” you choked out, your words muffled against him.

“They still are,” he murmured, his tone softer than you’d ever heard. His hand stroked your back in slow, grounding motions, his presence steady even as his own turmoil blared beneath.

The sight of them would haunt him forever.

He’d seen them as the doctors worked quickly, their small, fragile forms laid out in a shallow steel tray. The boy’s limbs were long, spindly, his jawline so sharp it was almost serrated. His translucent skin revealed a web of delicate veins, branching like cracks in glass. The girl’s features were softer, her tiny hands fused into curling nubs, her face serene despite the unnatural bulge beneath her closed eyelids. Their hair split down the middle—one half blond, the other stark white—a cruel mirror of their fathers.

They were chimeric, a grotesque fusion of too much DNA, as the doctors explained to him later, alone. “Incompatible with life,” they had said clinically, as though that phrase could encompass the enormity of the loss.

They told him there was no recorded case of such a thing ever happening.

Sukuna stayed silent through it all, his hand flexing at his side as if he wanted to destroy the room, the machines, the universe itself. But when he returned to you, he was calm again, his rage buried beneath layers of quiet resolve.

The hospital was a blur after that, like you were seeing through water. Sukuna dealt with the hospital staff in his usual manner—efficient, cold, terrifying. He had the remains cremated, sparing you the finality of their lifeless forms. You barely noticed when he disappeared to speak with the staff, his voice low and clipped, or when he returned, his presence looming beside you like a shield you didn’t ask for.

When you asked about the remains, your voice hollow and detached, he didn’t sugarcoat it. “It’s already done,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for questions.

You nodded, not because you agreed, but because you didn’t care enough to argue.

“Let’s go home,” he said, his voice steady as he helped you to your feet.

You clung to him as he carried you out of the hospital, but your expressions remained unreadable. The hollow ache in your chest felt endless, but Sukuna didn’t let go, his presence a fragile shield against the unbearable weight of what you’d lost.

//

The days after were an endless cycle of nothingness. Sukuna filled the void with his relentless presence, taking over everything he already used to manage. He cooked meals you barely touched, cleaned the apartment with medical precision, scheduled your appointments, and arranged therapy without asking.

“You need this,” he said when you stared blankly at the brochure he placed in front of you. His tone firm, final.

You went because it was easier than refusing. The therapist spoke gently, her words carefully chosen, but they washed over you like white noise. You answered her questions in monotone, offering just enough to keep the sessions moving. He drove you to and back from your appointments and waited for you in between.

“It’ll take time,” she said once after your session, her voice warm with reassurance. Sukuna nodded. You didn’t respond.}

//

At home, you spent hours by the window, staring at the sea. The waves rolled in and out, unchanging, as if mocking the chaos that had become your life. Sukuna hovered in the background, his movements quiet. He never pushed, never demanded anything from you.

Sometimes he’d sit nearby, reading or scrolling through his phone, his presence grounding in its consistency. Other times, he’d leave you entirely alone, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway as he gave you space you didn’t know how to fill.

When nightmares came, they weren’t violent anymore. They strangled you silently. You’d wake in a cold sweat, your chest heavy with an ache that felt like it would never leave. Sukuna was always there, sitting at the edge of your bed, his hand resting on your shoulder or his voice a low murmur in the dark. Had he stopped sleeping? You were too dissociated to argue.

“It’s okay,” he’d say, though you didn’t believe him.

One night, you woke to find him standing in the doorway, his silhouette stark against the faint light from the hall. He didn’t notice you watching as he muttered under his breath, his voice low and dangerous.

“If they ever come near you again, I’ll kill them.”

You didn’t ask who he meant. You didn’t want to know.

No matter what Sukuna did—his soft gestures, his quiet presence, his unwavering care—you remained numb.

He brought you flowers once, bright and vibrant, placing them on the table with a small, awkward shrug. You glanced at them briefly before returning to your spot by the window.

He cooked your favorite meal, setting the plate in front of you with a forced smirk. “Eat, Princess,” he said, but when you pushed the food around with your fork and left the table without a word, he didn’t stop you.

Even when he tried to make you laugh—muttering sarcastic comments about the people outside, rolling his eyes dramatically when the news played something ridiculous—it barely registered.

The world felt distant, like you were watching it through frosted glass.

Sukuna’s presence was the only constant, but even that felt like something happening to someone else.

And though you didn’t react, didn’t acknowledge the weight of his efforts, he stayed. Silent, steady, unyielding.

//

One night when the pain got too much, you walked to his room and cried in his chest. After months.

He held you the way he always did, but it was stronger this time, as if trying to anchor you in a storm that wouldn’t pass. He didn’t fill the void with empty reassurances, nor did he push you to speak.

The next day, things went back to you staring at nothing.

--

Japan

Gojo sat slouched, manspreading on the couch, his T-shirt messy like his hair, eyes uncovered, hands dangling between his knees, a photo clutched so tightly the edges were crumpled. The room was dim, lit only by the gray haze of a city that never quite slept. His six eyes scanned the image for the hundredth time, even though he knew every detail by heart—the grainy black-and-white outline of two unmistakable shapes, curled together like yin and yang. He’d gotten it from the hospital you visited before leaving.

He let out a hollow laugh, the sound breaking the oppressive silence. “Twins. Our twins.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard.

Nanami stood by the window, staring out at the endless city lights. His sweater covered with alcohol stains, his sleeves rolled up to reveal veins that looked ready to burst.

Gojo tilted his head back, his eyes burning as he stared at the ceiling. “Do you think she—” He stopped, his voice failing him. He tried again. “Do you think she hates us?”

Nanami’s face was as if it had been carved from stone, but his eyes betrayed the storm beneath. “She doesn’t hate us,” he spoke lowly. “She… doesn’t trust us. There’s a difference.” It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

Gojo’s laugh was sharper this time, almost cruel. “Trust? Trust died the night we left her alone in this goddamn drawing room. Remember that? Her silently crying, begging us to tell her we cared, and we…” His voice faltered, and he shook his head. “We crawled into bed together like cowards.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching, shattering the glass he’d forgotten he was holding. But before Gojo could look up, his own RCT healed him. He stared at the disappeared wound like he wanted it back. “I remember, but I don’t think that was the final straw. I think it was the same weekend.”

Gojo stayed silent for a long time at that and then asked, “do you think they’ll look like her?” His voice softened, and he stared down at the photo, his thumb brushing over the image. “Her smile…”

Nanami’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I hope they don’t look like us.”

Gojo’s head snapped up, his six eyes narrowing. “Why the hell would you say that?”

Nanami’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Because we ruin everything we touch.”

Gojo leaned back, letting the photo fall to the coffee table. His hands ran through his hair, tugging hard enough to sting. “They’re better off without us.”

Nanami walked over and sat across from him, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of them. “Everything hurts.”

Gojo’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile before falling flat. “Hurt? Nanami, this… this is beyond hurt. This is…” He gestured vaguely, words failing him. “I’m empty. She’s gone, and I…”

Nanami reached for the photo, his fingers brushing against the image. “At least we have this,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with something raw. “Something to know it was real.”

He paused for what felt like an eternity and then added, “She’ll protect them.”

Gojo’s six eyes dimmed, their usual brilliance dulled by exhaustion. “Yeah. She’ll protect them. From us.”

Nanami’s grip on the photo tightened. “From the world we brought her into.”

The two men sat in silence, the photo lying between them like a ghost of what could have been. The air was thick with grief, regret, and a despair so deep it felt like drowning. Neither spoke again that night.

A/N: Okay, y’all, save the rage essays for after the next chapter—then hit me with your 14-page death threats. This pain was necessary for the redemption arc, but I promise groveling starts in the new year. Pain first, comfort later—like a good skincare routine. Drop your theories, death threats (creative ones pls), or tell me if Gojo should be banned from gaming conventions forever. Your comments = my serotonin boost, so don’t hold back. Did this chapter ruin your day, your week, or your will to exist? Let me know. 😘"

Chapter 7 (alt ending 1.3) - Sapphire Echoes (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld @revolvinggeto @luringfantasy

If I missed to tag anyone, please remind me.

[butterflydm]

Kinda jumping off a discussion I was having with @markantonys and @sixth-light the other day, I am really feeling excited about potentially bringing in most/all of the rest of our endgame love interests next season because I think they'll pretty much all benefit with the jump from book to screen.

(contains some book spoilers through Knife of Dreams)

I really enjoy a lot of the choices that the show has made so far, and I think they've done a lot of good set-up for the romances as well. To start with the characters who are locked in already, I really loved that Rand's three love interests all got to spend some extended time with (at least) one of his friends in season 2. Elayne being close with Egwene and Nynaeve is book canon, of course, but I like that the show essentially did that with Aviendha & Min too -- Perrin and Aviendha were so funny together, Mat and Min were also funny but had some great depth and angst. We got to see all three of them shine as individual characters before we got into any romance elements.

Especially with Min, I really loved the choice for them to take Min's self-reported past struggles with her ability and make it a current thing for her. It gives Min an active emotional storyline that is about herself and not centered around Rand, which is a big plus for me.

For next season, it's fairly well confirmed that we're getting Faile, and I think the show is set up to do really well with her:

a. the fact that we're not getting Perrin's internal narration will do so much to combat the 'constantly possessive and jealous' vibe that she often has in the books, because she frequently does not act on it but is just feeling something and if Perrin didn't basically have telepathy, no one would know.

b. Perrin's previous marriage provides a good reason for his relationship with Faile to be much more of a slow burn than it was in the books, and also provide background on why he'll be over-protective of her without falling into Jordan's "Women Are Precious Frail Flowers" trap (which Jordan did realize was a flaw in his writing -- we see him trying to interrogate it over the course of the series. But sometimes he would fall into the trap anyway).

c. And Faile and Perrin's relationship being more of a slow-burn would also make Berelain be a less ridiculous character (if they choose to still have her & her pursuit of Perrin). I'm also fond of the (from reddit!) speculation that maybe Berelain will be Graendal in disguise, which would have the potential of working really well to bring Graendal in sooner and give Perrin a proper Forsaken nemesis.

We are likely to get Gawyn, and if he's our main PoV for split in the White Tower, rather than it being Min (who is going to be in the Tanchico storyline with Mat, if that leak from a couple of weeks ago is true), then the audience will be more inclined towards being sympathetic towards him. We're also not likely to have the huge slow-down in pacing that happened in the second half of the book series, so it won't feel like Gawyn is just marching in place for forever. He's definitely one of the characters who suffers the most from how slowly the plot moves in The Slog.

Less likely but still very possible (especially if the leak about Mat is true) is that we may meet Tuon next season, and the show has done so much to make Mat & Tuon more plausible as a romance, even before we get into anything like character development.

Partly in the difference in Mat's background, in his relationship with his parents, and also in the way his dynamics with characters like Liandrin and Ishamael were played out.

Plus the set-up for what the show is doing with damane & sul'dam is promising in terms of Tuon because the show has established that the sul'dam are very weak channelers (as opposed to being learners), which means that Tuon actively beginning to channel wouldn't be plot-breaking in terms of her capabilities and would just affect her on a narrative level, which makes that feel like a much more likely path for them to choose to go with her and which opens up some avenues for some genuine character growth from her, which would be an exciting change from the books.

And, on a more subjective note, I feel like Jordan really fell down on the writing of Mat and Tuon, especially in CoT & KoD, so basically anyone else taking them over is probably going to be an improvement for me.

The show also really established a strong personality for Mat off the bat, which is something that Jordan was pretty inconsistent about. 'Mat' doesn't really gel as an individual character until the third book when he gets a PoV; and then he changes in several ways between the end of Winter's Heart and the start of Crossroads of Twilight (which is only a week later); I think that 'Crossroads' Mat could have been plausible (if depressing) as a character if Jordan had actually worked up to him over the course of CoT & KoD rather than him abruptly becoming this New Slavery-Neutral "both sides are valid" Mat in-between books (in WH he has an actual ethical & visceral objection to slavery, while in CoT & KoD, he only seems to object to the idea of being personally enslaved and views it neutrally if other people are enslaved). But I've talked about all that before, lol, so I will just say that it feels like the show already knows who they want Mat to be and has taken a pretty bold stand on the subject (re: being a Hero of the Horn), so I don't think we'll see them dumping his brains and empathy overboard between seasons.

So, yeah, I know s3 is still filming, but I am already anticipating it so much!

[slickshoesareyoucrazy]

Wicked

I guess here's a mild spoiler alert for those people who read here who haven't seen or read any version of Wicked. I want to talk about it, because oddly and sadly, this is the easiest place for me to talk to anyone but J about anything that's going on with me that emotionally matters at all.

The weekend between Christmas and New Year's, I went to see this film at the theater with my friend, R. I am calling R my friend here. I guess I feel like she's my friend. Now. Mostly. She asked me to go to lunch right before Christmas and then asked me to see this film. She loved the Wizard of Oz when we were kids, and now she loves Ariana Grande (which tracks if you keep reading here). She has a husband and sons, and no one in her house would go to the show with her, and she rolled the dice on me. I agreed to go because I read the book years ago, before it was even a stage play, and I did kind of want to see it anyway, and I felt like it would be a unique experience seeing it with R. I wasn't wrong. I knew the story ahead of time. R didnt.

The short short version of Wicked is that Glinda the Good Witch and The Wicked Witch of the West (Elphaba) were sort of besties when they were younger. And Elphaba is maybe not so wicked, really. She's just a studious girl with unsupportive parents who's noticably different, so people always treated her in ways to make her stoic and hard and quiet and standoffish to maintain self preservation and protection. And maybe Glinda isn't always super good, either. She's an ambitious girl who wants to be supremely liked and successful and maybe she'll go pretty far (overboard?) to get there. R asked me in the parking lot leaving that pre-Christmas lunch if I related more to Glinda or the Wicked Witch. She clearly related/s to Glinda more. She sent me this gif on text a couple times in the week between lunch and the movie outing.

I told her I definitely saw myself more in Elphaba. She looked surprised, but that's because she was going in blind.

R and I were friends in middle school. She was my first made friend in a scary new environment, even before meeting A. There's a song in the show, Popular, that basically describes nearly exactly our 7th grade friendship dynamic. R basically tried to make me over. Buy IOU sweatshirts and Skids and Guess jeans (remember that shit, GenXers?) to wear instead of...whatever this is. Fix your hair different...you know what let me fix your hair. Get some lip gloss. Start flirting with boys and stop making friends with them. Be normal. 🙄 She looked over at me several times throughout that song, like, "Wow this is pretty much just like us." Yep. R didn't like the boy I first decided was worthy of 'not just my friend.' She had a more well known, socially sanctioned, athletic and perceived as attractive boy in mind for me (who is now a registered sex offender... seriously).

She made fun of A in high school and we drifted apart fairly quickly. A and I were academic nerds and she was a varsity cheerleader who went on to cheer for a major division I college program. She said at that lunch she remembered A 'never made friends easily.' I told her I didn't either; that's why we became such easy, close friends with each other. She looked sad and kind of guilty. R is who called me last winter to let me know A died. She's forever attached to him now, even though they never had much to do with each other in my actual life. I told A R and I sort of reconnected when our sons were in the same kindergarten class because I'm not awesome at making new friends at all, especially not with women and super especially not with moms. He couldn't believe it. "R?!?!? Are you serious?!?!? You're going out to lunch with her and shit?!" But I oddly think he would (does?) like that we're making another go at friendship now. It was bizarre but maybe strangely delightful to watch this film with her. To watch her watch our friendship play out on the screen in full costumed musical spectacle format minus the love triangle and the same-sex-enemies-to-friends(-to implied wannabe lovers?) vibes. Something that if I wasn't in this joy-muffling funk I would have super gotten a kick out of; something I would have absolutely LOVED sharing with A. I could almost hear his laugh imagining me describing her face during Popular (😳😳😳) to him.

At the end of the movie R said she felt so terrible for Glinda. She could tell Glinda felt so torn and terrible, like she was abandoning her friend and sort of like her friend was abandoning her, and she didn't know if both or neither of them were doing the right thing. That she hated that Glinda and Elphaba just couldn't stay friends without the drama and separation. I told her to hang in there (again...I know the End end...it's not as unhappy for Elphaba or their friendship as the original Wizard of Oz shows us). And she said, "You know we'll have to go together to see Part 2 when it's out."

Anyway, I'm trying to pull myself out of this Foreshortened Future Hole I've been in for more than a year now. I know I'm concerning people who read what I write here. So I really am grateful for R. She is a person who I suppose sees me in her future. She wants to go see this other musical film with me in November (at least for now). It's not A planning to get baseball tickets or watch the march tournament with me this year, but it's not nothing.

[creativemorningstoowoomba]

We're back baby!! CreativeMornings is up and running after a little post-Covid hiatus. New at the helm is Amy Willis, Maddie, Riehl and Jessica Staskiewicz, your new co-hosts who are picking up where the amazing Phoebe Tully left off.

The Vision

The first iteration of CreativeMornings/Toowoomba was met with incredible success, and we're wanting to bring it back, and make it even better.

We know there's a secret underground web of creatives out there, from the backyard horticulturist to the fire-side singers and beyond and we want to create a space that brings in everyone - where conversations ignite inspiration, inspiration leads to creation, and our community thrives.

We firmly believe that everyone is creative, and that a creative life is a good life.

CreativeMornings/Toowoomba is a space that welcomes everyone, of all ages, interests, and stages in their lives and careers.

We can’t wait to meet you, chat with you, and spread the inspiration with you!

The Team

Every CreativeMornings event is totally free to attend and is completely run by volunteers. Make sure you click on ‘Toowoomba Team’ at the right of your screen to learn more about who is involved. We're pretty awesome. Say hi!!

We’re also always seeking volunteers to join our community, including:

Videographers to capture the events

Caterers to feed hungry stomachs

Designers to create killer graphics for us

Morning People to make our community welcome

If you’re interested in joining the team, please get in touch with some information about yourself.

The Hosts

I (Jess) co-host with Maddie and Amy - all mum's, creatives, and entrepreneurs here in Toowoomba.

Maddie is the face of Hey Marketing, a marketing and media firm in Toowoomba which stands by the premise that marketing can be fun, exciting and extremely rewarding.

Amy is a dynamic leadership consultant, who brings a fresh, creative perspective and approach to the consultancy world and is passionate about developing everyday leaders. and I (Jess) am an embodiment guide & somatic therapist, supporting women to cultivate a more intuitive (& regulated) relationship with their body so they feel more alive & become more aligned in their lives.

We have been both surprised & delighted by the diversity and calibre of the hidden and more established creatives who brim in our local waters, and we cannot wait to share them all with you.

Partnerships & Sponsorship

As a free event run by volunteers, we will rely entirely on the generosity of sponsorship. If you’re interested in partnering with us please email us at toowoomba@creativemornings.com

We're currently on the look-out for a videographer, if you're someone looking to build your portfolio, increase exposure, and dial in your already incredible skills, please reach out at the email above.

How to participate

Want to be kept in the loop when we launch our first event? Make sure you sign up at the top of this page.

And register when you see the months event uploaded!

You'll find us at the Empire Theatre the second Friday of every month, beginning this February 14th (awwww, we know ❤️).

We're excited to bring all the creatives together (and by creative, we mean you - because everyone is creative!).

We can’t wait to meet you.

xx Jess, Maddie, and Amy.

[bisexual-problem]

How dare we criticize the choices of men. In their opinion, we have to be mocking impoverished, abused women because we're catty women. After all, that's a feminist. It's a prostitutes choice if she wants to be there, or her fault if she doesn't in their opinion. How dare we understand the facts surrounding social dynamics and cultures. How dare we not happily sup from the washed out, pornified pop culture sensory garbage that's on every screen? How dare we point our finger at the man buying the woman or girl instead of spanking her ass too with a leather prod?

Porn and prostitution are poison. BDSM and the women who make up the majority of submissives in the larger community are a symptom of the problem, an outcome to a culture. The only reason they want to see a woman cry is if she's got leather strapping her in contortions that demean her. Boyfriends and husbands would rather slap you across the face or stab you to death than hear you "bitch".

And we're supposed to be happy with this. We're supposed to agree, and ignore that women are still not equal, we're still not seen a human people, not like men are. How dare we criticize them.

when we oppose BDSM, they accuse us of shaming women for liking pain when we're actually criticising men for sexualising and inflicting women's pain

when we oppose prostitution, they accuse us of shaming the prostituted women when we're actually criticising the men buying and selling women's consent

just saying, when liberal/choice feminism views individual choices as simultaneously irreproachable and made in a vacuum, it turns a blind eye and a deaf ear to the larger social construct we seek to dismantle and responds that dismantling that construct would come at the expense of personal choice. it draws the same inverted false conclusion as trans activism: preserve the harmful paradigm to validate the individual. they both end up defending the patriarchy.

[gaydennisreynolds]

Lately I'm seeing tumblr fandom "history" posts about IASIP by emberphantom and sunnyontheside and it's showing a curiosity in me I didn't know I had about this topic. Can you also share about the older Sunny fandom from what you know? I'm only joining since the podcast started so I don't know about the changes. (Sorry if I sound rude, English is not my first lang)

hi anon <3 you don't sound rude don't worry!

I was on sunnyblr the first time around 2014/2015. There were very few active sunnyblr blogs at the time and the show was only up through season 9 so less content to discuss. It was like 10 of us passing around insanity. I remember one of the biggest sunnyblrinas had a url like trashboat and went by the nickname bio or something like that. I can't find their old blog and their fics have been orphaned on a03 so RIP fallen soldier....I've been unsuccessful so far at digging up posts from this time period because all of our old blogs have been deactivated for YEARS (mine included). If anyone has any 2014/2015 sunnyblr era posts please tag me I'd love to see them!

As for what we used to talk about: Mac was known to be gay but it was less salient in our discussions about him (remember he wouldnt come out on the show for several more years at this point) and it was like TABOO to suggest that Dennis might be gay. bisexual, sure. But to "gay Dennis truth" was to be biphobic since he hooks up with women. I'm really glad for that big 180 in thinking because I've always been a gay Dennis truther in my heart.

I don't remember shipping being huge? There were definitely those of us who enjoyed macden and made content for it but most of the blogs just posted like gifs and screen caps with overall less analysis / postulating. I think there was a very real fear of being Cancelled for saying something too nice or pure or w/e about these fucked up characters. I think Tumblr ecosystem is much more accepting and encouraging of "dark" content, which includes exploring amoral characters/subject matter, than it was back then. I don't ever remember CharDee or CharMac being discussed back then either. There was a huge emphasis on Charlie being on the asexual spectrum and it was Discourse Worthy if you wrote him as being sexual in any context. Weirdly enough, I remember Dennis/Dee being more socially acceptable and more frequently discussed. The good old days where incest was fine but speculating about sexuality was NOT (lol /s).

I can't remember any big Discourses or Scandals or hopes for later seasons that we had. Overall, I like this Tumblr better -- it's quiet here, sure, and sometimes we all say wildly OOC things about these insane characters, but i enjoy reading speculation posts and savoring the wide variety of macden content available to me. I like the focus on their fucked up dynamics and trauma backgrounds that we have now. We're all definitely adults and have more coherent thoughts about the content of the show, which is a nice change (I was about 15/16 my first sunnyblr time, as were most of my friends in fandom I think). It's nice to see people pick up on what RCG is trying to do with subtexts and references as opposed to taking things at face value. Older sunnyblr was way more like r/IASIP is today, the more I think about it. Way more rehashing jokes from the show and circle jerking about face value stuff like serial killer Dennis etc.

Glirst was still sooooooo real and all the lesbians have always wanted to fuck him. The one constant for now and for forevermore is that Glenn is sexually attractive and all the sexy ladies woobify his evil character <3

[thejustmaiden]

So out of nowhere I was tagged and quoted by a SR shipper for a blog of mine posted in August of last year. Talk about throwback but, hey, gotta appreciate that level of snooping. 😉

Back in the day I actually used to encourage discourse amongst Inuyasha fans- both shippers and antis alike- but I've since realized that it's a lost cause. But for you, @feministmetalgreymon , I'll grant this exception. Just 'cause it's been a while so why the hell not. haha

I want to assure you, however, that nothing you say will ever convince me that Sesshomaru and Rin are meant to be together romantically or that the story intended it so. Nor will you find any validation here. You can ship them for all I care, but please for all that is good and holy while I have your attention try- I mean really try- to understand why it is so many of us Inuyasha fans are so against this pairing in the first place (newsflash: it's not about ship wars), and why we believe a romance between the two of them is completely and utterly out of character.

For those of you interested in reading this, the blog of mine in question that the above shipper mentions in their counter-argument is here for reference. It's titled "Jaken = Rin's Dad?" I'm going to try and keep this short, but I'm also making no such promises. After all, I'm not exactly known for my brevity. haha Now let's get crackin'!

Like you, feministmetalgreymon, did for your recent blog here where you took screenshots of mine to address certain parts, I will be doing the same and dissecting yours accordingly.

[Snippet 1]

I worked with kids for many years as a teacher, and many people in my family have too or still do. Two of them happen to be just over 5 feet which is quite short for the average adult woman living here. I've also worked alongside many a women of short stature, and never did I hear any of them complaining of issues with their students having difficulty differentiating them from their own peers just because they were short as well. I'm sorry but that's just ridiculous. Kids are quite smart and pick up on a lot more than you seem to give them credit for. Height is not the only characteristic they look at to determine who's an adult and who's not, and it's foolish to suggest otherwise. So unless you're a babysitter who's still in their teens and/or who has very childlike features or behavior then I'm afraid what you're getting at is total hogwash. This is just another example of how you shippers offer nothing of real substance to your reasoning, it's only ever cherry-picking or strawmanning from you guys. Stop deflecting from the real issues please, because this certainly isn't one and only winds up being a complete waste of time for all parties involved.

[Snippet 2]

Okay, calm down now. I wasn't insinuating that relationships between parents and children can't change over time in terms of how they get along. Of course that's possible, as all families experience their fair share of estrangement and abuse. What I was speaking about was in reference to the overall dynamic between the two. Because a bad mother or father can still be viewed as a parental figure to their child even if say they're not in said child's life anymore. Since Sesshomaru and Rin share a healthy bond- and just a friendly reminder that in my blog I even said that he doesn't have to necessarily be labeled her father but that a romantic relationship later would still be inappropriate- I didn't deem it necessary to address what you brought up. Plus, it kinda, umm, misses the point?? Please, let's stay on topic. And it's not captured in the screenshot, but stop acting like there isn't a small part of them that idolizes their parents at some point during childhood. Just like you mention later on how it's normal for kids to have innocent crushes on adults that they eventually grow out of? Well, guess what, the same concept applies here. Kids eventually learn that their parents are far from perfect and make mistakes too. Rin is so damn young in the OG series though that we never even get to see her reach that maturity level.

[Snippet 3]

LOL! Alright, okay, so the "unbreakable bond" bit you're mentioning was actually me quoting you sessrinners. Did you not catch that? I literally spelled it out. *sigh* The whole point I was making is that shippers like yourself make hypocritical and contradictory statements all.the.goddamn.time. One moment you guys claim that Sesshomaru and Rin were essentially strangers and meant very little to each other, only to say in the same breath a few seconds later that they were destined to be together and their bond is like no other. I agree, their bond is special, but why must that mean they're going to fall in love?

That is the root of the matter here. Too many animes/mangas have romanticized this older adult man & young girl growing up falling in love trope that it's become way too normalized and widely accepted across the world- and yes, in some cultures more than others. Sadly, you lack the awareness to recognize how this all works. You know how we know that? When we see that you shippers are so desensitized to sexualized images of girls in the media that you share posts like this one below which *subtly* imply a future romance although one half of that pairing is still just a child in the pic and then try and pass it off as cute. That's like super fucking problematic and it scares me that you can't see that (or deny you do). 🤢

After all that's said and done, Sesshomaru leaving Rin in the village with Kaede is to me the strongest indicator more than pretty much anything else he's done for Rin that proves he is her adoptive father. It's so funny to me how you somehow see the exact opposite though. 🤔 What I think is happening is that you got yourself on some squeaky clean ass shipper goggles fresh out of your little echo chamber. Because I hate to tell you, but what you're fantasizing is what you want to see and not what's actually there on screen or was written into the story. I'm strictly talking about Inuyasha and the manga of course. [For the TL; DR version skip to the last paragraph.]

Parents looking after their kids is what parents are supposed to do. A good parent will do anything to keep their child safe and ensure they are cared for, so what he did for her by leaving her there was in her best interests clearly. Besides, as a babysitter, you more than most people should understand that parents aren't always able to be there for their kids so sometimes others gotta step in to help. Haven't you heard of the saying, "it takes a village to raise a child?" Which in Rin's case is literally true! 😂 Sometimes kids are even sent off to stay with grandparents and that's who raises them instead. Or maybe they have to temporarily live with an aunt or uncle because their single parent's job requires they work out of town 4-5 days of the week so they're hardly home. But that doesn't mean that the parents care or love their kids any less, and it's foolish to assume that Sesshomaru must have thought very little of Rin simply due to the fact that he made the decision to leave her in the village. Come on, y'all are acting like he abandoned her there!!

It's just given the circumstances Sesshomaru finally came to learn that Rin traveling with him was no longer safe. I also like to think it's because he wished for her to live a more normal life and to learn how to fully trust humans again. Plus, continuing to travel with him as young as she was would have proven dangerous and unwise. Now for you to know all this and still manage to turn his past actions towards her while she was just a child into a romantic gesture is what boggles my mind. Regardless of how you look at it, from my perspective or your own, Sesshomaru is in the wrong. Either he's a father figure who impregnates his daughter at the young age of approximately 14. OR he's this man she used to travel with who maybe isn't a father to her but who nonetheless basically rapes her since kids her age can't consent to sex with an adult. Idk about you but it sounds to me like nobody here wins with either scenario we're given. In other words, you should be just as mad as we are. If only one side didn't choose to forsake their morals they know we both have in common for the sake of a ship. Welp. 🤷‍♀️

I agree, incest is disgusting but that's not the only problem we have with this pairing. A romantic bond forming between Sesshomaru and Rin would also constitute as grooming.

You realize that over the years he visited her in the village that he brought her gifts too and essentially watched her grow up right before his very eyes, right? I mean, I know you do, but I really shouldn't have to explain further why pursuing a romantic/sexual relationship with each other is plain and simple wrong. And before you say it's not because he didn't have any malintent, please understand that considering their history and power dynamic up to then that yes this is still considered grooming even if Rin supposedly "wanted it" or "made the first move." Whether you consider him her father or not, as the adult who took on a role resembling that of a caretaker in her early life- a critical developmental time for a child- Sesshomaru is obligated to turn down any advances by Rin and most definitely should not initiate any himself. As the first close adult figure she's had in her life since her parents died, it's unfathomable to imagine how Sesshomaru could go through with taking advantage of this young girl who was under his care and supervision since they met. To think he could be capable of betraying that trust sickens me to the core.

This. Now THIS is how a parent/guardian or a similar adult caretaker (babysitter, teacher, etc.) talks to a child. And, in turn, this is how some young children talk to adults. You'd be insane and delusional to deny it! We see it in our everyday lives, do we not? From where else do you think our stories draw most of their inspiration? Yes, obviously these fictional universes have aspects of fantasy that don't exist in the real world, but so how then do you suppose we're able to relate to them? The reason for that being is because these stories are written by people for people, so naturally there are going to be real life aspects embedded throughout. Sure, a little escapism doesn't hurt as we don't need to take everything so seriously, but ultimately we all need to recognize that the messages in the stories we tell matter. Most stories possess a combination of both light and dark themes, but when it specifically comes to the latter we gotta be careful with how we tackle this in children's media since kids are far more impressionable.

So if at the center of a story we have two of the main protagonists whose mom is basically their same age and to top it off she knew their dad when she was just a girl and who just so happened to help raise her, wouldn't you say that's beyond fucked up or at the very least so fucking weird? Like why would we think it's even remotely okay for our children to watch this garbage?? Really think about it. Try and be objective for once and think about how it would sound explaining this storyline to an outsider who's never watched IY or HNY. Well, antis have tried this before many times and we always get the same reaction: Ewww!

Like I said earlier, if you wanna ship it then fine, but 1) please stop seeking our approval or trying to change our minds - your ship wish came true didn't it, so why do you need us to validate it? 2) even though it's not canon, respect that we don't support this sequel portraying pedophilia in a positive light. It's harmful af to not only allow but glorify the continuation of sexualized images of young girls everywhere. And I shouldn't have to say this, but just because this trope is popular as you say does not make it right. Lolicon themes in the media have been an issue forever and it needs to stop. Yes, even some people in Japan or "the East" would agree. Shocker!

We're pissed off and rightfully so because Yashahime's TV rating is 14, not to mention it airs at the prime time kids in Japan watch TV after getting home from school. That's Towa and Setsuna's age, true, but if Rin being the mom when she's like only a year older than them (please don't argue w/ me about the math- antis have so far been right every time with it) is straight-up disgusting and not something we should be supporting or endorsing. Rin's a whole ass child!! Please don't start with the "but times were different then so her having kids at 15 is acceptable" argument either, because we've already debunked that and every other single excuse you guys throw at us. Besides, how or why would you expect young viewers to know these historical "facts" anyway, especially if as you suggest fiction doesn't affect reality so what does it matter? Yet here we are, arguing over a fictional show in real life almost a year and a half into the "Sesshomaru fucks?" sequel being announced. My ass, your ass, hell all our asses fiction doesn't affect reality!

Look, I do apologize if the tone of this blog came off as snippy or condescending at times. I do not wish you any ill will, it's just I'm not really sure what you expected to get out of all this besides maybe getting on my nerves perhaps. haha A lot of you shippers have been desperately scrambling to interact with us, lurking in our tags, jumping onto our posts screaming canon and getting so defensive even though you sought us out first. We've been sticking to our tags, so how about you stay in your lane too. By the way since we're on the topic, have you seen Twitter or Reddit?! SR shippers there are the actual worst and many Inuyasha fans (not just antis) have complained of not feeling welcomed to engage in fandom spaces anymore. Shippers swarm them and scare them off simply because fans don't like your ship and refuse to accept it. It's pathetic, really. No one should ever be bullied or harassed just because they don't like something you might. We're all fans of Inuyasha, aren't we? So let's act like it. Yashahime on the other hand, you guys are welcome to that pungent heap of trash. Fans have a right to criticize it too, but if you like it then good for you, so keep on liking it and don't mind us.

I'm almost done, but real quick back to Jaken! Let's not forget about how the official Yashahime website- which came out after my blog, mind you- described Jaken. This translation isn't the best one available but it's the only version a fellow anti friend could track down. They do recall a better one done by a native Japanese speaker who was also an anti, and that member confirmed that Jaken is indeed called Rin's babysitter. So you see, I was right in my interpretation. In the original post I did compare Jaken to a brother, but after talking to others (some comments can be found under said post) I did acknowledge that he's more of a reluctant babysitter who's not related. And if he's not at least a brother to Rin, then he's definitely not her father.

At the end of the day, the creator Rumiko Takahashi has the final word. Which is guess what? Hogosha. 💖 Probably should've just started out with that and saved us all the trouble, huh? Good day/night to you.

Papamaru bids you adieu now. 🤞

[baijingting]

z anon again also i agree w yamh!! it's always so refreshing to see no love triangles!!!! also DID YOU SEEEEEE YUMI'S CELLS 2 IS GETTING RELEASEDDDD IN JUNEEEEEEEE. like i was emo over why her being released late but to think that two of my most anticipated dramas are going to be airing the same time *melts* also plus and minus is the first taiwanese bl ive seen but im soooo in love w it!! i swear good bls keep coming out, maybe it's because i'm watching based on what i see you rb/create hehe. also sooo tru, kinnporsche is full of eye candy but i also enjoy the banter and action scenes. like i think it's my favorite thai drama overall so far, altho i'm not too exposed to thai media!! also thank u for validating that i dont need to finish it because it is... definitely not worth it imo. like the more i sit w the fact that they used the slur sm the more i'm like :/// not for me....also i don't mind xu kai but a mutual literally hates him so going into falling into your smile i was expecting like full blown terrible 발연기 but it wasn't bad at all kdgjnkjn. shooting stars is v mediocre which is a shame, and since i'm part black the problematic elements of the drama have caused me to drop it. the only reason i'll watch the drama r cameos since ik we're getting a find me in your memory cameo/reunion!!!!! i hated our blues tbh but i'm enjoying the highschoolers' plot and look forward to han jimin and kim woobin. i feel like han jimin can do no wrong, she could be a murderer for a role and i'd be like "ykno, maybe they deserved it..." also thank u!! i will add these to my watchlist for more dramas! this week and next are my wrapping up as well so it is hectic but then we have summer to relax!! at least i do since i'm not doing an internship this yr!! hang in there and i hope you receive the grades you desire!! also i've been seeing your gifsets for going to you at 493km/h and I LOVE THIS DRAMA SM!!! i think the two leads have great chem and are really underrated actors so hopefully the ratings get better :( also jo hanchul always delivers w whichever role he chooses!! ALSO since my last message i've been watching miss crow and mr lizard and i'm alr on ep 18.. IT'S SO GOOD!!!!!!!!!!!! - z

hiiii this is very late but here I am!! Finally responding 💕💕💕I SAW THE POSTERS YES. i admit I didn’t watch season one but jinyoung is lead this time so!! i might just have to watch now. what’s your other most anticipated drama? the BLs are really stepping up their game recently. it’s great to see. i can’t wait for to my star 2 to drop because we need that natural chemistry back in our screens again and hwang da seul beloved we can always trust her to deliver. I’ve still only gotten a chance to watch the first ep of plus and minus but!!! i really like their dynamic so I’ll probably just binge it eventually. “maybe it’s because I’m watching based on what you rb/create” 🥺🥺 now the pressure is on! hopefully I don’t lead you astray fjsks. LOLLL why does she hate xukai spill the tea. i don’t really have any opinion on him except he had that one set is photos and I was like oh? He’s kinda hot here. I’ll be honest I dropped shooting stars I watched the first episode and then never continued it just didn’t grab me enough I guess. oof yeah I can see how that would hit too close to home, I support you dropping it, you gotta do what’s best for you! i also dropped our blues lmfaoo it was too depressing and also the women keep getting the short end of the stick. i was watching mostly for the high schoolers too but even then the writers chose the messiest plot lines I swear. also the anti-abortion propaganda was going full force. LAP is cute, ngl I was getting a little annoyed at everyone being as*es to taeyang tho and the continuous circling around the big “secret” but at least this week we got some progression in the right direction! MISS CROW AND MR LIZRAD!! Ugh I loved the otp there sm (the ending was annoyingly rushed tho 😔 but other than that! loved them) I’ve been in the mood for crime/investigation dramas recently so that’s what I’ve been watching most recently. Congrats on finishing your semester and I hope you get to spend a really fun a relaxing summer vacation! You deserve it ^^

[tobeornottotc]

Tharn and Type Seven Years Ep 2: Observations and Comments

Wow, what can I say except yes finally after a bit of worry about how this season was going to be especially after being scarred by A chance to love (like Tin and Can are cute but the lack of a good plot and waste of side characters still hunts me to this day), I really came weary into Tharn and Type season 2, but thing is as much as last week the editing, sound issues and some lightning issues worried me, I kind of really enjoyed seeing my couple once again. It was just a bit different to the feeling in season 1 for me (it should be we're seven years in we're meant to have maturity, domesticity, and slower less angsty relationship from Tharn and Type) but yeh because of this different feeling I wasn't sure what to say about this show. But Episode 2 took me back to my love for this couple, and I couldn't help but go through excitement, tears and also just nostalgia for how much it called back to season 1.

 As much as Tharn and Type have grown up and had their issues, the way they settle them now is different, their dynamic is still the same they're still passionate and crazy about each other but its the little things as well that shows how mature they've become, even though Type may curse out everyone including Tharn because that's his personality its the softness from him for me that warms my heart, its the way he's absolutely devoted to Tharn: he still calls out his father and says he'll be a widower without him,(already seeing himself tied to him in a marriage without the actual involvement of the law and people), its the way he ensures that Tharn is protected from being hurt when cooking and worrying about the little scars on his hands, its the way he pridefully tells everyone who he trusts that he's looking at his man and he's not ashamed to look longingly and lovingly at Tharn as he sings their song. It's so beautiful, and it's just so incredible to see his growth and see how absolutely devoted he is to Tharn despite Tharn not fully seeing so. 

Tharn, on the other hand, is the same as always 100% focused Type and making sure Type knows he's his, I just love how they talk to each other, how despite fighting all the time for seven years they find it like a comfort to expose their flawed selves to each other knowing they won't back away. I love how Tharn and Type still have those moments where they show they clearly need each other for comfort and just warmth (cuddle scene and Tharn apologising) and I love how despite having disagreements they go back to normal the next day and ensure that they don't fight for too long. It's just precious and its what I love about them. And of course, their passion which one of the reasons for why they are so great, that chemistry has just gotten better and better and that kiss blew me away in the bathroom. Mew and Gulf are clearly now used to each other, and so much more in tune with each other, their chemistry, sensuality and seductive could be felt from the screen, and I felt like an interloper watching it. It made me scream, made me laugh, but it made me blush, and I remember how much Mew and Gulf engulf the whole show with their chemistry and passion. I'm jealous, to be honest about it all.

Other things to notice

Phu and Cir: They're adorable, their skinship shocked me wasn't expecting the amount of PDA we got from them but I ain't complaining it makes me appreciate this show even more. Phu and Gun are the antitheses to Tharn and Type, they're adorable and soft and proud of their relationship in public, they don't seem to fight or argue, and they have a sweeter dynamic to them, but I do hope for a plot for them instead of just cute stuff because I like their characters and I like the actors. But right now I see what they're here in the show for, they keep being a reminder to Tharn about his own hopes and dreams for what he wants from his relationship; he wants what they have, he wants to be overly affectionate in public and to able to call Type his in front of everyone just like Cir does. So they do have a use, and I don't want people to see them as like just fan service.

Fiat and Leo: Fiat is spoilt, and he gets his way we can see that he goes a bit unstable when Leo is away for a while. Almost he's reliant on Leo, and he's not used to being away from him. Leo is fiercely protective of Fiat as we see his friends keep updating and worrying about Leo's reactions to them not doing Fiats bidding or hurting him. For Fiat I love this actor, he's stubborn and like he doesn't give in typically, childish and immature, and I'm guessing Leo is the opposite. Still, Fiat reminds me of how I felt about Type, he's annoying and flawed, but he's somewhat lovable and intriguing. I can't help but want to care for his character and know more about him, and that's all because of his acting and charisma. I'm so excited to delve deeper into his character, and I can't wait to see how Leo plays a part in this.

The boss: Type isn't someone who likes to be patient so that he will explode later on this person. The question is why is the boss of Type so rude, and disrespectful, he's so like hyperfocused on trying to make Type seem so weak. From what Type has said its to do with jealousy, but I'm not really if that's all it is, he's jealous about Type being so handsome, and charismatic and liked by women that he feels some kind of inferiority complex? Because to be honest just because his girl hit on Type, it's very unprofessional of him to act this way, and I am not okay with it. I cannot wait to see Type punch the living daylights out of him. Eww

Khunpol and Champ: My babies, my soft, cute, sweet babies. They probably will be angsty soon, but I love them already. Champ is one fluffball so much more gentler than he was in Season 1, he's adorable, clueless about love and I'm sure Techno is going to play a massive role snooping and trying to set up Champ and Khunpol. As for Khunpol I can see already that baby boy has a crush on our Champ (even though Champ is so clueless) but the girlfriend mention and the relief on his face when he realises there is none, the way he laughs and gets excited when he saw Champ and a bit of disappointment when he saw Type walk into their conversation pretty much already tells me what I need to know about these two. Khunpol is shy and gentle and wouldn't really try to make anything happen, but he'll probably wait longingly for Champ to recognise how he feels. And Champ is going to be very naive and very dumb about the situation. They kind of remind me of King and Ram in my engineer, Khunpol screams King to me acts innocent and sweet like he doesn't know what's happening but secretly holding and panicking about feelings. And Champ is more like Ram,  a bit distanced from that feeling but soon will realise what's happening. Either way, my babies are making me so excited the way they make each other smile, the skinship from Champ to Khunpol which is automatic apparently and something he just likes to do because he sees Khun as cute and fluffy. Squeal, my heart is about to be stolen by these 2, can't wait to see how they unfold.

Overall this episode of Tharn and Type 7 years has been a blast from the past, I have had so much fun rewatching it and its made me so happy and excited for what's to come. If we get more stuff like this, then Tharn and Type is probably going to stay my favourite show. Still, I am so in love with everything in this so far/  I also wanted to say that it's nice to see them have conversations this episode about work and how they've changed, it's genuine and also very warm to see how they had grown up and graduated from uni when in the past season we watched their immature selves act childish and young and react that way in situations. This show is meant to be a more mature version of Season 1, and I think it's doing that so far. Also can Mew please stop looking so good? Like I can't deal with it, and Gulf as well likes in that uniform like please let me breathe. Haha. I can't wait for the next episode.

[revchainsaw]

Buffy: the Vampire Slayer (1997)

Season 1

Hello and Welcome back my creepy congregation! We will be taking todays service from the Big Screen into your living room for our first Personal Devotional. That's Right! We're reviewing full seasons of television series now and what better way to bring the spirit of the genre film to the idiots lantern that with the 90s Television sensation and all around love letter to the horror genre, Buffy the Vampire Slayer!

The Message

Regardless of how one may feel about Mr. Whedon we can't deny how much we love Buffy Summers and the Kids who live and die in Sunnydale! Season one of Buffy was a spin off/reboot of the earlier film and an attempt by Whedon to course correct the franchise by breathing a little charm and attention into the subject matter.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Season 1) focuses on Buffy Summers, a not so typical California high school student who, due to the events of the movie, has been relocated to Sunnydale High. Buffy is not just a cute, athletic, teenage girl looking to enjoy the prime of her life, though she is those things, she is also the Slayer, an anointed warrior who has been reincarnated throughout the generations to protect our vulnerable weak human world from the forces of evil; particularly Vampires. Buffy is a sort of supernatural Captain America, that is a peak human being, but instead of Nazi Science she was born with her powers.

Joining Buffy are; High School outcasts Willow and Xander (a nerd and a nice guy respectively), The ridiculously sexy librarian Rupert Giles (her mentor, guardian, high school librarian, and all around precious papa bear), Jenny Calendar (a technopagan computer teacher armed with all the mystery an ignorant 90s boomer could attribute to the internet), Angel (Spoiler: He's a Vampire, but he's a good guy. A hunky, broody, good guy vampire love interest), and her loving but entirely oblivious mother. The Scoobies as they have come to be called aid Buffy in her quest to protect Sunnydale from Dark Forces.

And Speaking of those Dark Forces, they are primarily vampires, led by the Master; an ancient vampire who resembles to some degree Nosferatu and a Bat, a look that Guillermo Del Toro would later perfect in his own series the Strain. The Master seeks to fulfill an ancient prophecy that would open the Hellmouth (a portal to hell, exactly what it sounds like) and free him in order that he and his kind should conquer the world.

The first season is fairly short consisting of the following adventures.

1. Welcome to the Hellmouth - Buffy moves to Sunnydale seeking to leave her Vampire ways behind, but the vampires just won't let her catch a break.

2. The Harvest - Vampire Shenanigans continues. Buffy learns of the Master.

3. Witch - A fellow Cheerleader is possessed by her witchy mom.

4. Teachers Pet - Buffy vs Giant Mantis

5. Never Kill a Boy on the First Date - Buffy vs the Anointed One (Not Really)

6. The Pack - Buffy vs Hyena Possessed High School Bullies

7. Angel - Buffy vs Angel but actually Darla

8. I, Robot ... you, Jane - Buffy vs Internet Demon

9. The Puppet Show - Buffy and Sid the Dummy vs Organ Harvesting Demon

10. Nightmares - Buffy has bad dreams

11. Out of Mind, Out of Sight - Buffy vs Invisible Nerd

12. Prophecy Girl - Buffy vs The Master (also Buffy Dies)

Overall the short season, while not allowing for too much world building, kept the show to a format that allowed very little filler. So although we mostly only get vampires as villains, we don't have enough time to really be bored of it. Some of the shows dynamics and cultural concerns definitely date the series but overall Season 1 of Buffy is definitely not a difficult watch, and can be enjoyed over and over again.

Let's get to the Benediction:

Best Character: Slay Girl, Slay!

As far as season one goes the titular Buffy Summers is the best character. Sarah Michelle Gellar is absolutely charismatic in the lead role and though at times she may seem selfish or reckless it makes perfect sense for the character. The character is allowed to be weak, to be selfish, and to be unlikeable. She avoids the foibles of a Luke Skywalker or a Harry Potter. She joins the ranks of primary protagonists who are not constantly outshined by their supporting cast. I believe when Buffy is sad, I believe when she throws a punch, I believe she struggles with her destiny. The only thing I don't believe is how ditsy she let's on.

Best Actor: Head's Up!

Anthony Stewart Head. Head as Giles is just fantastic. His balance of frustration with Buffy and genuinely parental concern is heartwarming and absolutely makes Giles one of the warmest father figures in television history.

Best Episode: A 'Master'ful Finale

It all builds up to Prophecy Girl and for good reason. Television shows often have mini-finale's at the end of their first seasons because the teams behind the series are not sure they will have a chance to tell more of their story. For that reason you can see just the first season of most television series and feel like you've heard the whole deal. I wish this habit was kept up in other seasons as we wouldn't still be wondering what the hell happened to Joel at the end of the Santa Clarita Diet. Buffy is no exception to this phenomenon and therefor attempted to tie up much of it's narrative in Prophecy Girl. While that often means big bads will be dispatched, I think it's a small price to pay for not winding up in a cliff hanger. Buffy and Giles just shine in this episode, Angel is given a more heroic role, Willow finally values herself as she should and Xander stops being a fucking horrible human being for once. This episode really satisfies in all areas.

Best Villain: Sweet, Sweetheart Killer

It's such a shame that Darla was killed so early on in the franchise. She is such a great presence on the screen that she overshadows all the villains that play alongside her, even the Master. I would have loved to have seen an alternate season where she offs the old coot and assumes the role of big bad much like Spike does in Season 2. Lucky for everyone that Darla is featured throughout the show in flashbacks and I hear she is even resurrected in Angel. Also, for Scott Pilgrim fans I feel like she and Envy Adams are very much sympatico. Maybe if they reboot Buffy all my dreams will come true.

I'd also like to take this time to recommend the song Angels and Darlas by Say Hi! It's pretty good.

Best Monster Design: Internet Troll!

While I can't speak for where the money in Season 1 of Buffy went, I can say that at least some decent cash was spent on both the forms of Moloch the Corruptor from the Episode "I, Robot ... You, Jane". Moloch was pretty wicked looking as a machine toward the end of the episode, he looked like a Mortal Kombat villain, but it's the green scales and ram horns the actor is sporting at the beginning of the episode that really catches the eye. In fact, I'm feeling compelled to hunt down any Moloch the Corruptor merch that may be out there on the internet. It's certainly no mystery why the demon's face is featured prominently in the theme song. It just looks great! Good job to the make up department there.

Most WTF moment: "Pack"s a Punch on Principle

While not the greatest episode in season one "the Pack" is certainly worth the watch if for no other reason than the horror is kicked up when a group of high school students under the influence of a malevolent Hyena God, decide that the School Mascot is not enough to satisfy their bloodlust turn on the principal, and yes, THEY EAT HIM. I remember being completely caught of guard the first time I saw that scene, and it kickstarted the running gag of Sunnydale high principles meeting their demise in horrific ways.

Worst Character: No More Mr. Nice Guy

When I was in college I often felt bad for Xander. The funny guy who just had no luck with women. He was sarcastic but had a big heart, and used a horny gimmick to mask his loneliness, or so I thought. But now I am older, I am wiser, I have known the touch of another human being and I have to say that Xander Harris is a really scummy fellow. I don't remember thinking so poorly and I wonder if the character develops a more nuanced view of women as the show goes on. As it stands there's barely a point in the series that Xander does not view the female cast as objects for him to enjoy or be embittered towards for one reason or another. It's not charming, it's foul. Xander Harris of season one is absolutely a terrorist attack waiting to happen, if Buffy had happened today it would be much more concerning to see someone so embittered, horny, and entitled to womens time and energy as Xander Harris. Dude is one step away from pulling an Elliot Rogers. Calm down buddy and maybe actually listen to a woman and you may find you aren't as much of a 'nice guy' as you think.

Worst Episode(s): If you're not first ...

It's a toss up on this one. Season One of Buffy is actually so short and concise that the 'Monster of the Week' episodes will have to be up for grabs as the worst episode by default, but even they are pretty watchable and don't warrant the vitriol a "worst" dub usually entails. I'd say there is not a worst episode of season one, just some episodes that aren't as good as the rest. In that vain, take your pick from "Witch", "Out of Mind, Out of Sight", or "The Puppet Show". However, I'd be doing a disservice to those episodes not to mention that each one of them takes what could just be a basic Buffy Vs (insert Villain), and does something unique and interesting with the idea. The villain of "Witch" actually turns out to be a has been cheerleader actually possessing the body of her innocent daughter to relive her glory years, The Invisible Girl is actually the victim of social cruelty, her peers disinterest in her manifesting in her condition becoming quite literal and she is picked up by the military in the end, then the Puppet show, well, it's just about the stupidest most absurd thing that could possibly happen and it's completely unafraid of that fact.

Summary:

Buffy The Vampire Slayer (Season 1) is not the most groundbreaking TV, but it is absolutely evident why the show was such a phenomenon. Season 1 is particularly rewatchable. It does not demand too much investment or attention, but it will get it from you, especially on a first viewing. It's not afraid to take itself absolutely seriously or to plant it's tongue firmly in it's cheeks. It is to a degree a product of it's time, but in many other aspects feels timeless.

Overall Grade: B

[derl30]

ALTERED STATES REVIEW TIME!

OK, this tumblr is, today, a vehicle for me to review ALTERED STATES. And you (the one person who stumbled on this review two-hundred years from n- oh who am I kidding, when the aliens from A.I. who show up to thaw out Haley Joel Osment and the teddy bear who was the real hero of that movie find this) should be very excited about this. Because this movie is insane. And highly entertaining.

Yes, the movie poster looks like ass. If I told you this was a movie where William Hurt (not the William Hurt from that awful 90's Lost in Space remake, or the one who slept through an entire performance as Duke Leto in the Syfy miniseries of Dune. This is before the body snatchers got him) took ayahuasca and got in a isolation tank and it blew his mind so hard he started devolving into a neanderthal and creating dimensional portals and he couldn't stop because he was addicted to finding the truth of existence... Well you wouldn't get that from this poster, would you? So let's move on. Shall we?

The film opens in 1967 with William Hurt's character, psychopathologist Edward Jessup, already immersed in a sensory deprivation tank, whilst his colleague and “buddy” Bob Balaban (he's just Bob Balaban in everything I'm not giving you his character's name look it up yourself if it's bugging you so much) oversees.

Now, you may notice I put buddy in quotes. The reason for that is that Jessup is a self-obsessed ass who seemingly has no reason to be around other people unless he can expound to them one of his various monologues. Bob Balaban barely gets a word in edgewise throughout the entire film. Bob Balaban.

See, Jessup loves the sensory deprivation tank experience. Unsurprisingly, as it allows him to be completely alone with himself for hours.

Later, at perhaps the lamest party ever, a bunch of faculty are chilling out and listening to the Doors. Everyone we see is talking about Jessup. Why? Well, much as Jessup is obsessed with himself, everyone else seems to follow suit by being obsessed with him. One young woman, Emily, (Blair Brown) is introduced to him in this very shot below as he arrives at the party:

Notice how is framed in holy light? There is a closeup after, of him framed in blinding glowing light followed up with a zoom in on Emily's face, enraptured with this incredible dynamic man. So much so that the moment he tries to make a goddamn sandwich she starts grabbing his celery (get your mind out of the gutter) and flirting with him. Which for these two that means talking science, immediately. Talking more at each other than with each other. This is often the way with Paddy Chayefsky's scripts.

PAUSE

Paddy Chayefsky is doubtless one of the great American writers for the screen. He wrote Marty, The Hospital and Network (which is a fucking incredible piece of work). He got an Oscar for all three. He also wrote this movie (Altered States, remember? Good lord) and disowned it completely three weeks in to production. His scripts tend to have very intelligent, driven characters at the center, who monologue extensively at each other. These scripts are not attempting to sound naturalistic.

Ken Russell, however, directed the film. He, like Chayefsky, is top notch at what he does (Direct. I said he directed the film like a second ago, come on keep up). His films, like Women in Love, The Devils, (which was banned in several major countries upon release and has never been shown publicly in its full, uncut form (by the way it's a masterpiece)) the Who's Tommy, Gothic, and Lair of the White Worm are all fucking gonzo nuts. I mean like, when you gave this guy the reins, you were going to Overthetopsville and there will be no stops on this trip. And god bless! I love directors who GO for it!

You're getting the chance to make a movie. Stop hemming and hawing and hit me over the head with what you want to say! Film is a visual medium, USE IT!

I feel I might have made my feelings clear here. So, moving on...

Ken Russell and Paddy Chayefsky immediately started butting heads, right from the start. Chayefsky was a BIG deal, and he wanted control over the picture in a BIG way. Ken would listen to his suggestions on everything to lighting and set dressing, and politely tell him, “No.”, and continue being the director of the film. Chayefsky hated him pretty quickly.

He had much more control over films like The Hospital. Which, if you watch The Hospital, well, it shows. You've got great actors (George C. Scott, Dame Diana Rigg (Dame may be the greatest official title of all time)) saying great dialogue. But its just two very witty bitter people sort of expounding on topics and speaking at each other and suddenly admitting they are in love and discussing what drapes they will have to buy for their new home. It's utterly preposterous, and it doesn't work in the way Sidney Lumet got it to work in Network, by literally making one of the lead characters realize his life is turning into a ludicrous soap opera.

So of course Ken tried to humanize, naturalize, the dialogue sequences. And it works! The film feels more human than the Hospital or Network. Despite the fact that Jessup is literally becoming more and more inhuman throughout the film. One of the ways he does this is by having the character's eat, drink, and work on other things during the dialogue sequences. This is perfectly normal in film, it's called giving the actor “business” to do, during the scene. Chayefsky HATED this. “They are mumbling my precious dialogue! Chewing through it! Sucking it through a straw!” Sorry, Chayefsky buddy. It works for the picture. Chayefsky also felt the actors were too emotional with his dialogue. Right. See, they call that acting.

UNPAUSE

Which brings us back to the first meeting of Emily and Jessup at the party. They are eating during this important scene! I can just picture Chayefsky seeing this, and running to the studio brass to tattle and get Ken Russell fired (as he got Arthur Penn of Bonnie and Clyde fame fired before Ken Russell came on board).

Emily and Jessup are, true to Chayefsky form, extremely intelligent, driven people and hearing them discuss topics such as anthropology and schizophrenia is quite interesting. It's just that what is to come, film being a visual medium, will eclipse just about any dialogue, no matter how good, from our mind thingys.

The two give up on the science talk and go straight to banging on her couch. After, she asks what he was thinking about. His answer is priceless. “God. Jesus. Crucifixions.”

She smiles.

Bwahahaha! Oh Paddy Chayefsky, you sure know women.

He admits he used to have religious visions. She listens to him from the sweaty couch whilst he sits naked on the floor, and starts going on about his father's horrible death of cancer and his loss of faith. And he admits to her that he's a nut. Her response is to call him a fascinating bastard. I think Lucas may have taken notes for Padme and Anakin.

So naturally, they get married immediately.

But none of that matters because Jessup gets back in the sensory deprivation tank and has his first vision. A nightmare of his dying father and lost faith in christianity. It's pretty great, filled with foreboding hospital rooms, his father's face being covered in a burning Shroud of Turin, everything covered by horrible blood red clouds and then THIS FUCKING THING SHOWS UP AND ITS ALIVE AND WRIGGLING

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

excuse me...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

The many-eyed goat is slaughtered over a gold bible and suddenly Jessups screwing Emily again and we enter a blood vessel looking thing and the vision ends and he never mentions this again. Oh. Okay,

Emily continues on about what a nut Jessup is as they make marriage plans. Her monologue:

“You're an unmitigated madman. You don't have to tell me how weird you are. I know how weird you are. I'm the girl in your bed the past two months. Even sex is a mystical experience for you. You carry on like a flagellant... Which can be very nice, but I sometimes wonder if it's me that's being made love to. I feel like I'm being harpooned by some raging monk in the act of receiving God. (Emphasis mine)

"And you are a Faust-freak Eddie! You'd sell your soul to find the great truth. Well, human life doesn't have great truths. We're born in doubt. We spend our lives persuading ourselves we're alive. And one way we do that is we love each other, like I love you. I can't imagine living without you. So let's get married, and if it turns out to be a disaster, it'll be a disaster.”

It's a disaster.

As in, by the next scene. It starts off happy enough looking, they have kids and people are smiling. And hey, wow it's seven years later! But, well, see, whoops, they are getting a divorce. Well, not they. See, he is divorcing her because he considers the seven years with her a complete waste.

She still loves him, desperately. He doesn't give a shit about her or the kids. He tells Bob Balaban this, straight up. And then starts bugging him about deprivation tanks and Hinchi Indians in South America who have sacred mushrooms that can really fuck you up.

It's at this point you would like for Jessup to be hit by a Mack truck. But the movie continues on. By the way, this is one of the kids he doesn't give a crap about:

That's right. Drew Barrymore's first role is a kid that William Hurt doesn't give a shit about. Something that William Hurt would make a career out of with narcoleptic performances in Lost in Space and Syfy's Dune. So, Emily takes the kids to Africa for her anthropology work while Jessup goes to South America to go deeper into his own creepy mind.

The Hinchi Indians agree to allow him to participate in the drug ritual. They enter their holy cave.

This shot is beautiful. At this point the film becomes increasingly gorgeous. Ken Russell has started to go into overdrive, ladies and gentlemen. Buckle. Your. Seatbelts.

The Indians grab Jessup's hand and cut him, freaking him out. They pour his blood into the drug mixture. They begin to drink. Then he takes a sip. The intensity of the film here has quadrupled. The vision begins, fireworks going off all around him. He sees cave paintings of humans and komodo dragons and this:

The proper life he left behind with Emily. He's convulsing, sweating. The Indians are all around, masked. Snakes. He's laughing in pain. Energy spills from the void. A snake under the parasol strikes and begins to strangle him. He and Emily march toward a nuclear explosion as energy pours from the cut on his hand, becoming a lizard. From within a sandstorm, Emily watches him, naked. Jessup looks at her, entranced, as the soothing sands cover them both, slowly.

It's a beautiful sequence. A perfect film sequence. I can't overstate how strong the vision sequences are from this point forward. Great visual effects work and the madman mind of Ken Russell create something unforgettable, with it's own pace, independent from the rest of the film.

Jessup awakens with a komodo dragon laying before him, ripped to pieces. The Indians and the others all claim he killed it in rage. Jessup remembers nothing, takes samples of the drug to reproduce it, and goes back home.

Back home, Jessup keeps doing as much of the drug as he can and having Bob Balaban record results. They can't up the dosage any more so Jessup hops back in to the self deprivation tank to create a more extreme experience.

In his next session, Jessup states he is having a vision of early man, hunting a deer and killing it. Suddenly he states he is one of them, killing the deer. He begins to grunt like an animal. The two pull him out. He's incredibly pale, blood seeping out of his mouth. He can't speak, and has difficulty breathing. He insists they do an X-ray. It shows that there is a vocalizing lump in the front part of his throat. Jessup claims that his body had begun to revert to a simian state. The medical doctor agrees, stating the throat X-rays looks like that of a gorilla.

Luckily his throat returns to normal. So Jessup finishes up his day by having over a student of his and sleeping with her.

Our hero, people!

At this point we hardly feel sorry for him as his body suddenly begins to twist and bulge in the middle of the night, shifting in and out of neanderthal shapes. It's a horrific sequence, disturbing as hell. You certainly didn't expect the film to shift into body horror.

Jessup feels normal after a while. but sees visions of lava explosions, the birthing of the Earth all around him. Not a good sign.

He goes to pick up Emily from the airport the next day. She asks how he is doing.

“Oh, fine.”

Yeah right.

Emily has been told what Jessup has been doing and is worried, which of course pisses off Jessup even more. The guy is obviously obsessed with reaching the truth and root of existence, much as Emily surmised earlier, and we see he has no fear of even losing his own soul, again true to her word. The only thing that allows us to give a shit about him at this point is that Emily cares for him and she's decent people, okay?

So back Jessup goes into the tank with his ayahuasca or whatever it is. Alone. The tank door opens from the inside.

The hand that pushes it open is covered in thick hair. He's devolved.

Ape-Jessup escapes the tank room and chases a janitor around the building. Again, this scene is fucking freaky as hell. We can't get a good look at this screaming animal that was Jessup.

The janitor gets a guard to help and chases after him into the boiler room, where we finally get a good look at him when he assaults the security guard and escapes.

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Ape-Jessup runs through the city at night, making his way to the zoo where he kills a antelope and eats it. The Ape-Jessup sequence goes on way too long, but is nonetheless unforgettable. The makeup is much more convincing than the above picture suggests, and whoever performed Ape-Jessup did an admirable job.

The cops find an unconscious Jessup in the zoo and bring him in. Emily picks him up and questions him. Jessup admits everything that he can remember. He also admits that he probably killed that security guard. And once again doesn't seem to give a shit. Prick. He calls it the most supremely satisfying time of his life.

Even Emily seems disgusted with him. But, she's also fascinated with what he's accomplished. As an anthropologist, his transformation fascinates her. And so, she agrees to help oversee his next session. Big mistake.

Before the big session Emily and Jessup romantically reconnect, and then into the climactic session we go!

Get your popcorn ready!

After a few hours in to the session, the video monitor shows Jessup begin to literally melt apart like goo, reverting to primordial ooze, the very beginning of existence. An attempt to open the isolation tank doors blasts everyone unconscious, as light and energy pour forth. Emily is the only one left. She sees Jessup's life energy pulse from within the tank.

Rain pours down around them. The pipes on the walls twist and turn like jelly. The ground is covered with a pool of swirling fog and energy. Emily advances toward the vortex of the tank.

In the emptiness of the beginning of everything, Emily seizes the energy before her and reconstitutes Jessup.

They take him home. While he sleeps, Emily rages over the fact that she loves such a insane bastard, and can't get over him. And, then, after Bob Balaban leaves, leaving Emily alone, Jessup wakes up.

He sweetly admits that the truth he learned was that there was no learnable truth, just unknowable horror, and all that's real is human experience. And he'll be a good boy from now on. Well too bad!

Because that horrible truth isn't done with him, and it's back to goo-Jessup! Emily tries to help him, grabbing him, but this in turn effects her, turning her into a shimmering lava form of herself. Both of them begin to self-destruct as Jessup, enraged, watching her in pain, struggles to retake his humanity, slamming himself into the wall, reforming himself through sheer will and physicality. He grabs her and brings her back, mirroring what she did for him during the final session. They embrace naked in the hallway. He finally admits, “I love you, Emily.”

Fade to credits.

Awww true love!

What can I say to sum up? Awesome 80's practical effects. Genius wacko go-for-it Ken Russell directing. Out of this world vision sequences. A awake and actually remarkable performance from William Hurt. An occasionally turgid but often fascinating script by the ever ornery Paddy Chayefsky. Whats not to like?

Well, the ending is a little rushed. The ape sequence goes on for a little too long and takes up perhaps too much of the films overall running time. The central love story is, well... a little hard to swallow, but hey, I guess there really is somebody out there for everyone. Even self-absorbed, deadbeat, cheating, sensory deprivation loving, ayahuasca dropping, Harvard teachers with a messiah complex!

And on that note, aliens from A.I. Artifical Intelligence, have a good day, and don't leave poor Teddy alone with no one to keep him company!

Sayonara!

[mdye]

The role of wife and mother is something Jennifer Garner knows well. It’s one she’s played in her last seven consecutive films, an identity that’s boosted her cultural relevance over the past decade, as her on-screen career has taken a back seat to raising a family ... and, err, Ben Affleck. 

Films like “Juno” and “Miracles of Heaven” showed Garner making the most out of the “wife” character, delivering her best film performances to date, exploring the joys and challenges of motherhood. Similar roles in more forgettable fare (”The Odd Life of Timothy Green,” ”Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day” and “Danny Collins”) have fallen by the wayside. And the less said about “Nine Lives” the better. 

Those clamoring for a Garner comeback of a different sort won’t find much to celebrate in “Wakefield,” which opens for a wider release on Friday. Based off the short story by E. L. Doctorow, the film finds Garner playing wife and mother yet again, but the typecasting could be easily forgiven if the material was deserving. Director Robin Swicord, who’s made a career out of bringing women’s stories to the big screen, is at the helm of her first film in years. And yet here these identifiers overwhelm fleeting moments of agency, as Garner’s primary function is to service the evolution of a husband who’s, well, kind of an asshole. 

“Wakefield” belongs to Bryan Cranston as Howard, a man who essentially ghosts his wife Diana (Garner) and children by going on a faux “Into the Wild” quest to find himself. Except instead of traveling all the way to the Alaskan hinterlands, Howard sets up shop in the attic overlooking his house, as he watches his family cope with his disappearance and presumed death. Apart from a handful of flashbacks where Garner gels well with a more adult, edgier tone, her scenes are mostly silent, taking place behind the attic’s glass window pane and through a pair of binoculars.

There’s a certain boldness in telling this story from the eyes of an unlikable protagonist, especially through the lens of a female director, and no one is better suited than Cranston to humanize an anti-hero. The film stays with Cranston’s character, even in his most arrogant and repulsive moments, as “Wakefield” is a deeply internal piece that strongly evokes its original source material. Exploring everyone’s perverse desire to pull the escape hatch on life is fascinating, but not allowing Garner a moment of respite under Cranston’s unrelenting gaze makes for a frustrating and far less dynamic experience. 

In a recent interview with Build Series, Swicord addressed these criticisms, agreeing that the story is the very “definition of the male gaze,” but claiming that the film ultimately subverts this power structure. There is something to be said about Swicord writing and directing a film that unapologetically empathizes with a middle-aged white male in crisis and not his wife. However, if her intention was to provide commentary on the ways men come to view women, she missed a crucial opportunity in the film’s ending to drive her point home.  

While Howard lives in self-imposed destitution, dumpster diving for food and communing with the town’s local raccoon population, Diana is left to her own devices. She later strikes up a romance with Dirk (Jason O’Mara), an ex-boyfriend and former work rival of Howard’s. Through flashbacks, it’s revealed that Howard was only initially interested in Diana because of what amounts to a pissing contest between himself and Dirk. It’s disappointing to say the least that Garner’s character so easily volleys back and forth between the two and is none the wiser.

Dirk’s encroachment on Howard’s so-called territory and an almost laughable come-to-Jesus moment during a rainstorm prompt him to return home months after disappearing. Before he walks through the door, however, Howard imagines the various reactions Diana and his family might have. In one scenario, they’re terrified, and in another, they break down crying. But before the audience is allowed to see her genuine reaction ― and a scene where she exists outside of her husband’s viewpoint ― the film cuts to black. The short story ends in a similar fashion, so the adaptation is nothing if not faithful, but the ending feels like a cop-out that unfairly robs the character of any semblance of justice. 

Curiously, “Wakefield” was filmed during the nearly one-year period after Garner and then husband Ben Affleck announced their separation. The actor was painted by the media as a philanderer in the midst of a mid-life crisis (see: fake phoenix back tattoo), while Garner held down the fort, shuttling kids back and forth from karate class. That’s why it’s somewhat baffling that given the material’s fascination with a husband’s failings, Garner chose to work on this project before eventually divorcing Affleck this April.

As she raises her three children, the actress is increasingly selective with her film work, especially leading parts that require her to be away from her family for long stretches of time. Maybe Garner has fallen victim to Hollywood’s pernicious stereotyping of women over 40, or maybe she’s had trouble finding roles that work within her constraints. She could be seeking out these roles, as she can relate in one way or another. Or perhaps, she just needs a new agent. 

The idea of Garner strictly as a wife and mother in her personal life and in her on-screen roles might be the dominant narrative of her celebrity, but she has already proven that she’s more than her megawatt smile, dimples and Capital One commercials. Five seasons on ABC’s “Alias” shot her toward superstardom, and cemented her status as an actress who could kick ass and emote with the best of them. At least, the Golden Globe Awards thought so. And playing a deranged woman who develops an attraction to a priest in the little known short film “Serena” confirmed that Garner could, yes, go dark. 

Despite making the most out of the little she’s given in “Wakefield,” you can’t help but walk out of the theater asking: What if? 

What if Garner made as many films as Affleck in the last decade? What if “Wakefield” took the time to explore what it’s like to be the one left behind? What if Garner finally found a role that allows her to be the movie star we always thought she could be? 

You can be highbrow. You can be lowbrow. But can you ever just be brow? Welcome to Middlebrow, a weekly examination of pop culture. Read more here.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.