#wrongful death sc

[ninyard]

I've been thinking about the Aaron trial a LOT and kinda fell into a rabbit hole about it and thing is. Aaron is guilty. Like 100% guilty. The prosecution can't prove first degree murder but they don't need to because they can charge him with 2nd degree, aka "murder of passion". It was a charged moment and Aaron responded by killing the dude. Yes he deserved it and yes it's still murder, with considerable jail time.

There are 3 ways for Aaron to get off here (not including Moriyama interference). One, jury nullification. The jury basically decides that yes he did it BUT he shouldn't go to jail for it so we're gonna vote as if we're not convinced he did it. Incredibly rare but legal. Two, Aaron's lawyer successfully argues that Aaron was acting in self defense on Andrew's behalf. They could potentially try to have Drake charged with SA and CSA posthumously, and use the details of that trial as evidence in Aaron's. Three, and this ties into 2, JAG (military legal branch) tells the SC courts they don't want a public trial. From here it becomes internal politics, and might result in a plea deal in exchange for the whole thing getting shoved under the rug.

it seems to me like jury nullification is one of those old laws that don't really hold up in a modern setting, like if you suggested it now, i don't know if they'd actually go forward with it?

the best i've come up with is that he's aquitted for accidental death or self defence and the jury are swayed by andrew, neil and higgins' testimonies, or he's found either guilty or not guilty of involuntary manslaughter. just throwing some random thoughts out into the world. (let's disregard first degree murder.)

voluntary manslaughter in SC can't be given without "heat of passion and sufficient legal provocation" present. "The heat of passion refers to the defendant experiencing some type of uncontrollable emotion, such as rage or terror. The heat of passion does not excuse a homicide, but it does remove malice. Legal provocation refers to circumstances that would cause a reasonable person to lose self-control."

IM NOT A LAWYER but i think it might be hard to prove this - it happened SO quickly that there's not enough evidence beyond reasonable doubt to prove that it was an intentional act of passion with reasonable provocation.

involuntary manslaughter can't be given without "criminal negligence" or essentially a reckless or hazardous disregard for safety etcetc. in SC code of laws it says "criminal negligence is defined as the reckless disregard of the safety of others. A person charged with the crime of involuntary manslaughter may be convicted only upon a showing of criminal negligence as defined in this section."

AGAIN IM NOT A LAWYER but i think there's probably ways to argue that there was no criminal negligence on aarons behalf because it wasn't technically reckless. i think aarons lawyers would argue that it wasn't a homicide at all but was an accident because aarons behaviour wasn't technically reckless (in some ways). regardless even if he was found guilty of involuntary manslaughter there's no minimum sentence for it in SC so it's possible he'd avoid going to jail at all because of his character/how unlikely it is he'll reoffend/his prospects in life/his clean record and all that. he'd have parole terms and probably some community service and a fine or something but i think he'd easily avoid jail time even if he was found guilty.

he could still possibly be aquitted on the question of whether ANY category of murder happened beyond a reasonable doubt. the prosecution would have to prove that aaron intentionally swung the racquet with or without intent to kill. i think there's an argument there for an accidental death - which would definitely make this ask even longer so i won't get into my NOT LAWYER thoughts on how/why.

i'm not saying andrew and neil WOULD commit perjury. but they WERE the only people in the room when it happened, and if they can't say that for certain aaron swung the racquet at drake then there's a doubt there about whether it was homicide or not. nobody is denying the murder occured - but the prosecution HAVE to prove that aaron was WILLFULLY negligent and that led to drake's death. just a thought.

[i3utterflyeffect]

What if the way Mango learns is that Dark tells him? And thinks it a normal thing to admit to? Like "oh yeah, I turned my creator into a stick figure so I could kill him, and I also stabbed the kids he adopted in front of him because I wanted to suffer as much as possible. Apparently they all ended up getting brought back though." Or something along those lines where it is clear who he's talking about.

MAN. i feel like King would just break from being told that casually.

[twpsyn-who]

OMG I I wgehejej I was writing a post about some soulmate AU and and while writing it just occurred to me-

Both Jean and Marco lost their gear during Trost. They both got in a situation where a Titan was going to kill them while having nothing to protect themselves.

Marco was there to help Jean get hold of a gear and survive. Jean wasn't there for Marco aka why he died.

Omg. I'm not crying you are

[hexastitchimera]

I think I understand now why I'm honest to Stars nervous every time I interact with online communities like the animation meme one, the furry one, etc.

It's for the exact reason why I'm terrified of talking to former classmates who entered nursing school.

A huge majority of the vocal minority never left behind their grade school bully mentality. I'm not kidding, throwing insults, or even calling anyone childish. This is as big of a problem as it is in nursing, and it takes lives in the exact same way. I'll explain.

Having had family who were in the medical field, I have heard utter horror stories about one side of nursing. Not even in a medical malpractice sense. But how some of them can have the sweetest, "empath" mask on when they are around you, but will smear your name behind your back at the very least, try to get you disciplined/fired (especially if you're a "rival" nurse/student) at unfortunately common worst.

Now, because I am a firm believer in nuance, I have to state that for as many malpracticing nurses there are, there are just as many nurses who put their patients before their ego always. I myself have had several nurse family members who didn't have even the slightest infraction to their records, and retired late despite how their patients AND fellow MPs yearned for them to stay.

But, it has to be said: It only takes one to kill. One word, one intentional slip-up, one accidental pill too many. The side of the accuser only need speak, while the side of the victim has to frantically fight for their right to the role- to the life- they worked so hard for.

Why? Well, because it's easier to destroy the perceived enemy than it is to build your own self up. Destroying the competition has been a tale as old as time, and it can ALWAYS be for the pettiest of reasons.

If you want more of your supervisor's attention for better odds at better pay, intimidate and belittle nurses of your standing or lower so they're demotivated, demoralized, and struggling in comparison.

Hell, if you just don't like another nurse, watch their every move, and rat on the few, harmless, honest mistakes they made!

Who cares how many patients die, either because of a growing lack of nurses, or because of straight up nurse-on-nurse sabotage!

Do you see where I'm going with this?

Do you see how people can put the grandstanding of their own ego above entire LIVES?

The near-homeless artist whose callout you are mindlessly reblogging, what of their life?

The kinky trans woman?

The genderqueer person with neopronouns and "conflicting" labels?

The literal teenager who doesn't- and CANNOT- know better because of their horrifically bigoted family? Not without external guidance, of which they can only have through the online, and are immediately shunned from?

You all want an easy answer.

There are none here.

There never will be.

The only answer is to practice media literacy, to wait until both sides have come out with their sides of the story, and to understand a very rarely spoken of Golden Rule:

If it isn't hurting anyone nor contributing to harm period, mind your own business.

Otherwise, if still hard pressed:

What do YOU get out of ending the life of someone as they know it?

If it's the same sense of satisfaction a cop would get, I don't know what to tell you.

All I know is that you cannot, AND SHOULD NOT, be doing their "job" for them.

And if you do, wipe that ACAB off of your bio.

We do not use the weapons of the oppressor on our own. ESPECIALLY on our youth.

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

this tweet has haunted me for months bc “descends into violence the second he experiences a breakup” is literally just an incorrect description of the sequence of events. there was half an episode between ed getting dumped and ed “descending into violence.” we literally see his response to being dumped, and it was not violence. being dumped definitely impacted his decision to “descend into violence” but. the literal plot progression. The Chronological Order In Which Things Happen. the cause that comes first and the effect that comes after.

there is a specific scene where ed chooses to go full Kraken and it’s not when he’s being left at the docks.

[messenger-of-babel]

Home is Where the Heart is

Summary: You could never tell what Jason was thinking, and this particular night he has a lot on his mind. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 2.0K

Notes: Mini vent- had a bad day and this week has been really tough so I’m changing up the layout of today as well so I could put out a fic that was a little easier on my mind (I always need to have more pep in my step when I write for my lanterns idk why haha. So sorry Kyle my baby I want to do you justice so you're on backburner). It was indeed written to Ed Sheeran on loop cause I needed to lock in fr. ❤️❤️

Enjoy Lovelies~! xx

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When Jason looked at you, you often wondered what he was thinking.

What was passing through his mind that made his irises gleam that brilliant shade of emerald or let the natural curve of his smile adored his face. However, every time that you asked he just blew his hair from his eyes gruffly, but let the smile stay. "That's a secret," he'd say before his hand would pull you to kiss side and he'd press a soft kiss on your forehead.

It was a little known fact that the Red Hood was in fact Jason Todd, but it was known to even less that Jason Todd was actually a romantic at heart. Sure, he had a mouth on him, and he was on the receiving end of your hand up the back of his head more often than he wasn't. But he was also the quiet kind of clingy, the kind that would never ask to hug you or initiate contact, but would stay up so he could have your back pressed against his chest the second you slipped into bed. He'd laugh when you brushed the hair out of his eyes, the scar on the corner of his mouth unable to stop his boyish grin. It was those moments in your kitchen that made you think that maybe, just maybe, your life was all normal.

You knew it wasn't.

When your fingers brush against his forehead you know that the white tuft in his hair was a painful reminder of his death, the scar on his lips you so lovingly kissed caused by the very man who had killed him. His hands were littered with small scars from blocking knives and protecting his head from glass instead of childhood memories of climbing trees. His back was a canvas of white slashes that intersected in a map-like pattern, a surface already so touched that the symmetrical red lines you left seemed less stunning in comparison. Legs sporting burn marks, bruises permanent along his ribs; that was the Jason that you knew. So even if some days you pretended that he was some ordinary civilian like yourself, you still loved Jason with all your heart.

On this particular night he had come home from patrol, sitting on the kitchen counter while you patched him up. You had been a pretty awful field doctor the first time you offered, but he braved through your prods and pokes with a wince. He didn't say anything about the way you wrapped the bandages too loosely or that you had forgotten some antiseptic and had given the wrong type of topical painkiller. Jason could see the worry on your face, so he leant forward and kissed your forehead tiredly, thanking you with a soft murmur.

You didn't need to know when he slunk off the bathroom to rewrap the bandages, or when he reapplied ointment in the right area. He picked glass out of his own skin when you missed some, letting the shards clatter down the sink. All that consumed him was the thought of how soft you were when you handled him, when you passed the bandage around his middle, or when you tried to clean the wound with as little antiseptic as possible to try and prevent the stinging. He normally hated having to doctor himself up, meaning that even the smallest of injuries tended to scar under his negligence. Yet with you he had been ashamed of the scars, hyper aware of how your eyes lingered on them. More so, how other people stared at them when you were out together. So, for months he spent nights in the bathroom redoing the handiwork you insisted so passionately on learning, just so that there wouldn't be a scar you could blame yourself for later.

You were absolutely perfect, so there was no reason that he couldn't be for you too.

You had become better though, and that was through the help of Alfred. Now you had patched him up efficiently and tightly, patting his hip affectionately when you pull the bandage tight. "Almost done," you smile up at him, fingers pulling the end of the bandage tight and reaching for a bandage clip. "Just got to secure it and you'll be good to go."

He smiles and drops a tired kiss to your skin as usual, pulling your fingers away when you’re done so he can raise them to his lips. "Thanks, darl." he grins, eyes tired but grin still lively as ever. He slides off the counter to wrap his hands around your waist, kissing your nose. You just huff and give him a side glance, arms circling his neck without hesitation.

"What's got you all worked up?" you ask with a light laugh when he’s overly affectionate with you, making Jason groan and drop his head into your hair.

"Just tired." he mumbles. "Bruce pissed me off again today, started lecturing me on the way home."

"Bruce pisses you off most days." you chide. "How did you ever escape the lecture?" you chuckle, moving with him as he begins to sway.

"I turned the commlink off and came up through Southside Gotham so he couldn't follow me." he grins.

There it was.

"There's always something with you, isn't there?" you shake your head, beginning to spin around with him softly in the candlelight. He laughs, and you imagine it’s the sound of a young boy finally getting to live life normally again.

"Always is, babe. you know me." he chuckles, and his eyes flutter over to the candles you have on the counter. It was always dark when he came home normally, and in his tired state he hadn't questioned it. After all, his family worked best in the dark.

"Power outage at the moment?" he asks.

"Power got cut off." you murmur back with a sigh. "We missed last payment. Only a few days, but you know how quick they jump on those these in Gotham. It's all paid up now, but it'll take a day or two to get back. Cold things from the freezer are in the washing machine with the ice blocks."

He hums, stroking a hand up and down your back. "You're well prepared. Sorry for making you deal with them, I'll handle it next time, I promise."

Jason hated using Bruce's money.

Not only was it something that sat bitter in his mouth ever since he had come back, but he didn’t need it. Dick had also rejected it and moved to Bludhaven, and even though he'd never admit it, Jason respected the way he managed to build a home for himself there. He wanted to do that too, and he could do it damn well by himself. He still took some money, but it was no more than a wage from Bruce. He considered protecting Gotham his job, and he wasn't stupid. He wasn’t going to let his pride get in the way of helping you both live. He hated to see you stress about finances, but you never asked him. You never asked him to reach out to Bruce for more or reach out to Bruce yourself.

The first time rent had gone up it had nearly priced the both of you out of the cozy apartment you lived in, and you had been in tears for days trying to find a second job to cover the expenses. Yet you didn’t come begging for Bruce's assistance, no. You looked at him with those teary eyes and asked him to help make a budget with you so you could figure a way out, and you did. You were the most resilient person he knew, the most resilient person he loved.

He held you closer as he spun you softly around the kitchen.

You were going to need to be resilient.

He inhaled the scent of your shampoo and let his arms bask in the warmth of you. Your skin against his made the thrumming in his side ease and the headache blistering behind his eyes subside. As you relaxed against him, his head raced of all the ways that he could tell you. Tell the most perfect being that had ever walked into your life that he was leaving, and not only that, he was going to have to break your heart on the way out.

He cursed Bruce. He cursed Bruce for making enemies that had cunning greater than his own, for dragging him into the mess he had created. He had yelled and spat and screamed at the older man until his voice resonated off the cave walls, storming from the cave after tonight's fight. Bruce had asked the impossible of him, after they both got their asses handed to them in a surprise attack. They had taunted Bruce, not the Batman, and had enough evidence to bring Bruce's world and carefully hidden persona crumbling down around him. It just so happened that they had enough to bring Jason's down as well.

They knew about you.

Pictures of you had fluttered down towards him, filling him with an indescribable sense of fear. As hard as they fought, they had let the new visitor of Gotham's nightlife slip through their fingers and Bruce had asked him to break up with you not a second later. There was no empathy, there was no kindness or waiting for it to sink in for him.

But there never was.

In that moment Bruce was Batman, but Red Hood had been the scared Jason Todd.

How did he tell you that he wanted to break up when that was the furthest thing from the truth? That he would walk through hell barefoot and dunk himself in the Lazarus pit again if that mean that you were still there to warm his bed at night? How could he tell you that he didn't love you when his heart ached to tell you it every time he got the courage? He could play the tears, play the part of a sad breakup. That part was easy, considering how this was shaping to be one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. It was the rage that he couldn't muster, for once. Rage was something that he saved for the streets, a place already so crime ridden and scummy that his bitterness and anger were practically masked under the filth. It wasn't a place for your home, the little shelter the both of you had carved out of Gotham with your own two hands.

So, he spun you around the room, eyes watering with tears yet to shed as he thought about how to let you go. He knew you wanted to stay, and that made his heart ache in return. It was like losing a part of him that hadn't even been lost yet, a void already forming in his chest. He sniffled lightly and thankfully you didn’t hear or notice his arms squeezing tighter, as if to imprint the feeling of you against his body. He tried to tell himself it was only a temporary thing, that he could explain it all to you later when the threat was done. That thought often lost against the conjured image of your heartbroken eyes his mind created to torture him, and the persistent thought that you'd probably never want to see him again when he was about to break your heart so violently.

You don't notice something is wrong until the first tear hits your hair, silently giving way to more. You notice the slight shake in his arms and the tension still wound in his body. Normally the stiffness in his muscles flowed out of him like water when he stepped over the threshold of the house, but not tonight.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask softly, pressing into him to try and comfort him, your heart panging in confusion at his strange behaviour.

Jason would never tell you, but when he looked at you he wondered what the rest of your life together would look like, and if you'd ever considering changing your name to 'Todd'.

[angel-purger]

⁰¹ As Lovers Do - Yandere! Geto Suguru x Gn! Reader

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      Cross-posted on Quotev (@.oc34n1d) and Wattpad (@.heart-stricken)

      9,100+ Words.

      —    Request by the very pleasant Nana ! It took me quite some time to be able to finish this but I really liked how this turned out and I hope you all did too. Again, if you want more detailed one-shots or headcanons, don't be afraid to explain to me in detail about what you want! Writing Geto's shift to obsession was really enjoyable and he's a really complex character. Alongside that, but accurate characterization for both the reader and Geto is so hard to write, so apologies if this took some time to be published. Scroll down for more notes.

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⠀ ⠀Protect human lives, sacrifice your own if you will; devour what is evil. Protect humans, do everything in your power to do so, but never expect to  be appreciated by the public eye, shun away from society's admiration— instead being a topic if scorn for being different. 

⠀ ⠀Geto abides by his ideology, engraving it in his mind without thought.

⠀ ⠀Protect humans, you are a jujutsu sorcerer for that sole reason.

⠀ ⠀Are human lives worth saving? 

⠀ ⠀He can never eviscerate the bitter taste of curses. An unwashed, soiled, and iniquitous taste of death. Like a rag used to repeatedly wipe vomit, feces, and every vile chemical mixed into one. He can taste death, he can feel it lump at his throat at every second; ascending gradually with its acuate, protruding claws. He wants to cry, but every time tears well in his eyes, he is faced with the constant reminder of her death.

⠀ ⠀Riko Amanai, a failed mission, a dead vessel, subsequently leading to the stillbirth of immortality's mortal body to be renewed with Riko's body. Subsequently leading to a doomed future for the lives of people within Japan— a haunting reflection of his failures, failures he could've avoided if he was fast enough, strong enough to predict that fucking bullet.

⠀ ⠀Why wasn't he fast enough?

⠀ ⠀The very morals he so pridefully upheld, all crushed with one single mission. He is a disgrace.

⠀ ⠀Gojo was wrong. Geto and Gojo will never be the "two strongest" sorcerers. There can only be room for number one, and Geto will always be second. Second strongest, second best�� so much so to the point that his presence doesn't shine as bright as it ever will be once Gojo is in the room. But that's alright, right? After all, he believes that working under the shadows to mitigate human deaths, without the feel to need gratitude from the very lives he saves, is what is right. And what is right is what is just, right?

⠀ ⠀He discovered that the water inside the shower is frigid when you are alone with only your thoughts accompanying you; like ice shards expending down on his back, like the stab of that human monkey (who defeated him so easily, he can't bring himself to admit). It stabs and it stabs and it stabs. And then he spirals, eyes diluting at the images of defeat. Then suddenly the world around him becomes an audience to his silent suffering. He can hear the cult members smiles, feel every bit of bile rise up his throat, taste the sin of death once more.

⠀ ⠀Geto is done showering.

⠀ ⠀Every day is a loop. Rinse and repeat. Wake up, eat, bathe, missions, more missions, explore some uncharted areas of the city, guarantee that it is safe from curses, go home, rest, dinner, sleep. There are moments where they interchange, but they never change.

⠀ ⠀Very few mention Riko Amanai. After all, she is a topic taboo now, especially since it heavily affected both Gojo and Geto's mentality. In more than different ways in fact.

⠀ ⠀He wants to stop thinking about her. Distractions are not needed in an era full of brimming human life— life that Geto has to, again, protect.

⠀ ⠀Just as he is about to leave his dorm after putting on his everyday school attire (making a mental note to skip breakfast and eat lunch alone), he is notified of a mission. A mission where he has to accompany a rookie sorcerer, a student like him admittedly, and it was a concept he wasn't accustomed to. After all, he was surrounded by talented people, and in a sea of talents, he felt more like a drop of dew— so maybe, despite the strange request from his Sensei, Masamichi Yaga, this would provide him a new opportunity.

⠀ ⠀He hopes it does. Your profile exhibits your meek countenance, like any normal civilian, but you seem strong enough to be scouted. There's not much of a significant presence you display when he read through your documents. Or so he thought.

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⠀ ⠀You became his new, temporary partner (he insists on that status on you, donning a pretty fake smile through his growing eyebags). It was surprising, really, to see you up close after reading through your files. The moment he met you eye-to-eye did he realize you share the same height as him, a few centimeters taller, he could estimate.

⠀ ⠀Geto's preliminary view of you was taken aback when you, albeit awkwardly, mingled with him after both greeting each other. You treated him warmly- like any normal person would- despite being strangers in the eyes of passerby's. Walking on the sidewalk, pretending that the mission you both (more-so you, than him, as he was simply there to accompany you in case of a problematic event) were to undergo didn't involve harrowing exorcism and countless condolences from any deaths involved.

⠀ ⠀Before he could mutter anything further, to proceed on the site of your mission, you'd drag him into, as you state, your favorite chain of street foods. Did you want to distract yourself from furthering your shared mission, or were you idiotic enough to forget to eat breakfast that you'd have to drag his bleary body elsewhere to satisfy your needs? He was pleasantly (or was it hesitatingly?) surprised when you beckon him closer to buy any street food that catches his attention, as long as it is within your school allowance.

⠀ ⠀As he was about to differ from your offer (he didn't want to seem rude to you), your lips thin to a line and your eyebrows furrow (though your entire expression does not scream of angered. Perhaps you are befuddled with yourself?), and you beat him to it, insisting that he was going all his way to entertain you and all; that despite being acquainted only for a short while did you notice how his stomach grumbled loudly and how he didn't even notice the noise his own body made. He realized he was the idiot here, that he ignored his human need to consume actual food rather than curses.

⠀ ⠀Prior to his knowledge of you, you're more caring than what he envisaged. Soft. The qualities very unlike a jujutsu sorcerer should possess unless one wishes for death. Yet, that momentary lapse of emotion in your face tells him you are more than experienced in the field work of jujutsu than what he expected— you are soft, but you are dominating. Caring, but challenging.

⠀ ⠀His mind blanks.

⠀ ⠀Then he finds himself licking off the residue of the bits of fish flakes on the side of his mouth after you both decide on takoyaki. You're both on the sidewalk again, with him stealing (prolonged) glances at you— you acting like nothing has happened, matching his pace as- as equals would.

⠀ ⠀It was strange, for him, to experience this type of casual kindness after a period of solitary confinement from his peers. You were merely treating him, as one co-worker does when wanting to pay a favor to a higher up after given assistance. But why, compared to his other classmates, who in more cases than one pay for their occasional food excursion, does he like it when you domineeringly persisted that you should pay for him. Was he becoming soft? Or was it you that tamed a part of him that he swore was nothing?

⠀ ⠀There were cases your body draws nearer to his whilst you try to make small talk - could you even sense how much he could sense you? - where he could feel the visceral heat off the barrier of the pitch-black fabric you wear. Geto swears he didn't mean to, but he could smell the faint perfume you're donning— it was way different to the smell of crimson he's perpetually exposed to.

⠀ ⠀Your smile. The indistinct crinkle of your eyes, eyes that bounce bashfully from his eyes to the surrounding nature. It's as if, despite your mouth moving automatically, attempting to forgo the small-talk that he started, those sneaky eyes of yours always find it way back to meet his.

⠀ ⠀Were you perhaps admiring him after he regained some energy? It wouldn't be the first time. After all, compared to his white-haired best friend, he was always the more charming one of the two, often attracting ladies he seemingly never bat an eye on. And maybe you were just like them; he would forget you after this mission, and you would simply see him as an unreachable force, a special grade sorcerer whose talents would be a force to reckon with—

⠀ ⠀But maybe he wanted you to idolize him, in a way where you couldn't stand as an equal in power, but you could stand beside him with the power to overcome him more intimately, just like how you, a few moments ago, stood your ground; softly glaring at him like how a lover would to their naturally self-neglectful partner. 

⠀ ⠀What was he thinking?

⠀ ⠀If- if maybe he could have known you longer then he would've loved to share his ideologies with you more, share a deeper questioning of society. With how understanding you are, you would empathize with him in a heartbeat. With how quick you slip into the grasp of blunt truth, how easily your eyes would flitter about once faced with a ridiculous statement ("I think it's funny how oblivious humans are, no? They could be killed at any opportunity by curses. How unfortunate is it to be born with nearly no cursed energy... Shouldn't- shouldn't sorcerers just let them be? To rot? After all, saving them means attaining nothing on our part.") he would docilely express— you'd rebut him, but at the same time you would do so with the thought of his ideas in mind.

⠀ ⠀How invigorating must you be?

⠀ ⠀If you share the same sentiment with him then—

⠀ ⠀Then he'll finally have someone to rely on. In a world full of corrupt notions, you could be the only one who would comfort him

⠀ ⠀And God, your presence was really relaxing compared to the odd bunch he surrounds himself with— like a breath of fresh air amidst the fetid scent of curses he devours.

⠀ ⠀The most tantalizing part of you? You haven't even demonstrated your cursed technique, nor your fighting style to him— you've both just arrived at the scene of the crime too. Yet he's convinced that you seem to hold a lot of power over him.

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⠀ ⠀Protect human lives, sacrifice your own if you will. 

⠀ ⠀The more that oh-so inspiring phrase repeats itself in his head like a broken record, the more he's stuck in a predicament of wanting and unwanting the want. He should protect them, the people, no?— God, humans are filthy, they're weak. And sorcerers; they don't deserve to be hidden, treated less...

⠀ ⠀You don't deserve to be undermined, especially by that loathsome family of yours.

⠀ ⠀A few days pass and he finds himself seeking your presence out, alas he couldn't. You were a lower rank than him, stuck with lower-ranking missions— and he's a special grade, dragged into countless complex commissions that would surely tire anyone. Anytime he tries to seek you out, he would find himself in another mission assigned by those abhorrent superiors; and that is merely another day without you.

⠀ ⠀Another day where he drowns in melancholic thoughts in the shower; drowns in what-ifs and the motifs of his supposed success of saving Riko. Yet the more time he spends in the showers without seeing that demulcent, yet potent expression of yours; Geto's imaginations drift from the need to finding any meaning of being a jujutsu sorcerer to yearning for the normalcy you unveiled.

⠀ ⠀When was the last time he was able to inhale so freely without feeling the sharp claws sinking its ways to his hard? When was the last time he exhaled without bile climbing up his throat? It's you he's thinking of again. You he associates with peace.

⠀ ⠀The erratic sprinkle of water from the showers doesn't sound like the cult members' laughs anymore... When he turns it off, the accustomed silence accompanied by pitch-sharp wringing was replaced by whispered voices; all the same sounding, yet they make his tense muscles relax. They all sound like you.

⠀ ⠀And...

⠀ ⠀The urge to strike another conversation with you struck itself into his nerves once more.

⠀ ⠀But he couldn't, even if he wanted to- definitely would.

⠀ ⠀So he- he simply has to find another way to know more about you; to check if you always wear that expression of yours, the one he wishes to engrave in his brain. Not only that but, he needs to evaluate your strengths so he could - in his mind - protect you, right? All throughout the mission you were efficient with utilizing your cursed technique, but in the end you had still ended up with minor injuries; some bruises, others scratches. They could turn major if he wasn't there to watch over you once you're faced with stronger, more complex opponents, no?

⠀ ⠀The idea terrorized itself into the core of his amygdala. He feels fear. He has to know more about you.

⠀ ⠀Because he couldn't find you in the period you both are working, with minimum time for breaks, Geto convicted himself to obtrusive methods of locating you.

⠀ ⠀By locating, that means he simply resorted to stalking you, hence how he discovered your not-as-kind family.

⠀ ⠀Your parents, monkeys, with no ounce of cursed energy whatsoever. Whose talents don't even do jackshit for society— who has the audacity to ridicule you like you're nothing but dirt. Rummaging through files he shouldn't have access to, Geto was revealed with information that you were scouted by the school after they found you coping furiously with your cursed technique after an argument which led you to being kicked out of the house you used to live in.

⠀ ⠀You were unaware of your skill, yet you managed to achieve what other sorcerers take time to master. He finds you not only endearing, but enough to be revered by others. But his prior admiration turned into aggravation soon enough after scanning through your files again.

⠀ ⠀You have nowhere to live other than the highschool you both reside in, no one else for a support system, nothing at all. Hell, you're even financially dependent on the allowance of the high school, yet you even went as far as to treat him like it won't cut your budget. Again, you have nothing. 

⠀ ⠀But he could change that. 

⠀ ⠀He will give you everything you want.

⠀ ⠀If he finds a way to at least convince the higher ups to be given missions that require your presence - he could convince them that he shall be your temporary, no, longterm mentor - then he could be everything for you, and you could care for him too. You both could depend on each other, and he won't be so lonely, no? Won't feel so utterly useless, with no meaning to live life. You could be the very reason he still maintains his cool, the reason why he hasn't killed off those monkeys yet.

⠀ ⠀He will find a way.

⠀ ⠀Geto Suguru always finds a way. He is, after all, a jujutsu sorcerer.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

⠀ ⠀And so you were suddenly wormed beside Geto once more, though you were convinced that this wouldn't be the last time you will be paired with the mysterious man who keeps a composed smile, opposite to when you first met him. His eyebags, too, were smaller, like he has been regaining sleep once more. You couldn't deny that it made him even more handsome than your first impression of him.

⠀ ⠀His curt smile broke into a beam once he noticed you eyeing him up and down. 

⠀ ⠀Compared to last time, he seemed healthier. Was there something that induced a sudden change in him? Of course, you can't really assume anything since you have met him only once, but there's something about him that you couldn't pin-point. Despite shining brighter than before - you could describe him akin to the serene atmosphere of winter - there was a hidden undertone to him that scorches you, and you don't know why but you chose to ignore it in favor of prioritizing the newly assigned mission.

⠀ ⠀Looking back, the superiors' evaluation of you suddenly increased; and now you were paired with the special grade again, with no arbitrary explanation as to why him specifically. But it didn't really affect you personally, so there's no need to worry about anything.

⠀ ⠀In the blink of an eye, he was meticulously closer to you, right hand finding its way to your chin as his index finger beckons you to stare into his eyes. He mutters something under his breath, words you couldn't catch on. Then his smile grew wider than ever, you couldn't deny that it charmed even you.

⠀ ⠀"You sure do love staring at me, huh?" Despite the back of his fingers tenderly rubbing the sides of your chin, you couldn't bring it in yourself to pull back, a magnetic force compelling you to linger in your compromising position. Noticing barely any signs of discomfort, Geto's left hand finds itself holding your right and he brings it up near your chest and squeezes it affectionately.

⠀ ⠀Is he flirting with you?

⠀ ⠀"You must be undressing me with your eyes." He purrs, taking it further and kissing your knuckles whilst maintaining eye-contact with you. To that, you unhurriedly take your hand away from his grip (you swear that you nearly feel his clasp on you tightening for a slight second), and chuckled lightly.

⠀ ⠀Your response was curt, "Well, it feels like you are doing the same thing, no?" It's as if you were pretending the abrupt, sensual action he did didn't affect you one bit. He is, you couldn't deny one bit, incredibly attractive and you'd love to reciprocate the flirting but a reminder that he was a year above you and that you barely even know him clashes its way to your mind. And, for the most part, you only met him once. In that one singular meeting did he not display such provocative insinuations. It was just now that there was a sudden fondness that was triggered.

⠀ ⠀Can you really stand your ground against such a courteous man? Although he was a tad raunchy, maybe it wasn't only towards you? Does it really matter?

⠀ ⠀You're overthinking it, you figured as you snap out of your trance. Looking back at Geto once more, you gaze at him, leisurely, with not a negative thought but instead with goals aligning to your mission once more.

⠀ ⠀It was back again, your tender visage salted with rationale mentality. You've no knowledge about Suguru's increasing fondness of you, but you do know you would, by all odds, reciprocate his adoration of you soon enough.

⠀ ⠀Geto Suguru is a man who works between the line of preservation and consumption. To preserve the preciousness of human lives is a goal he doubts, and to consume curses is an everyday activity he comes to dread— but he was willing to preserve only your life whilst ultimately letting the image of you consume him.

⠀ ⠀Instead of you treating him to a snack before your mission, you find yourself entangled with Geto-kun - he insists on you calling him informally albeit the short time spent together - in your favorite restaurant, ordering your favorite foods and beverages, and chattering with him casually as "friends" do— after the mission. You were about to refuse his invitation but you halted as you were well aware that you did the same for him and it would be hypocritical of you.

⠀ ⠀Geto snickered lightly at your modest display, but was most definitely pleased as he reiterated what you said at your first meeting.

⠀ ⠀"Your stomach grumbled on our way out. You should eat, my treat. After all, a way to a man's heart is through food, yes?"

⠀ ⠀At that statement, you smacked him lightly in the arms and glared, amused, at him with thin lips— your expression then broke out into a laugh as you walked alongside him.

⠀ ⠀At least you could confidently say that by the end of the night that you had thoroughly enjoyed conversing with him. He was not only intellectual with words, but he was persuasive all throughout your debates with him in the restaurant. There were moments you disagreed with his sentiments, especially about humans born with no cursed energy, as you did. Though if you were to weigh it all out, you have made more agreements with him than disagreements and you weren't afraid to voice out your reasonings without invalidating him; he seemed to really like that about you, as you note his pleasant smile all throughout. He never broke his eye-contact with you too, eyes following your mouth forming the counterarguments whilst also acknowledging his assertions.

⠀ ⠀This was the first time in a while that actually liked the concept of debates, since Geto was so pleasing, so receptive of the things you say; like every word matters.

⠀ ⠀You really, really like this man.

⠀ ⠀Since you're aware of the new position assigned to you as his colleague despite not being in the same grade— you find yourself wishing for these "dates" to occur more often by the near future. And by future, you mean at least every week.

⠀ ⠀Perhaps it was a shared sentiment, but you really do feel a spark between you two, a linked closeness that transcends more than just acquaintances despite it being a second meeting. Or... you are perhaps consumed by fatigue from the mission as it is trickier by default when you find yourself working with a special grade.

⠀ ⠀And... Maybe your brain was too preoccupied, but you have never once had the thought of Geto knowing all your favorites cross your mind.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

⠀ ⠀Hours turn into days, days into weeks, and finally weeks turn months— and within that time frame did Geto Suguru experience a blizzard of emotions. All these burst inside of him like fireworks blazing through the midnight sky.

⠀ ⠀Everything was going well with you, of course. Every single day was a period of time where he was able to keep track of you; the time you wake up, eat, shower, even sleep. He knew your hobbies, too, after visiting your dorm whensoever. He even memorized the smell of your room, the various trinkets plastered around your walls, he could locate your bed without hesitation even with a blindfold— Geto could even recall the spots where the early sunlight hits your bed.

⠀ ⠀Every moment spent with you was an opportunity to know you better, on more personal levels. He was the first to know about your habits, those that you typically hide at face value, the ones you were embarrassed to show to your friends— ones only he (not even you were aware) notices and treasures. 

⠀ ⠀It was only fair that he lets you know about him in an equal amount. After all, every known boundary he has ever set were practically nonexistent when it comes to you. 

⠀ ⠀So he lets you in on his deepest darkest secrets. He whispers to you, nightly, about his interests, about his passions, about his greatest fears— the one thing he fears the most, one he has never told anyone; not his family, not his friends, nobody but you— is the alienation he feels from everyone. He has been through everything, he tasted death, and no one could relate to the taste of rot, not even his closest friends. Only you would know, you'll be the only one who holds his heart in your hand, even if he knows that you could betray him at any given moment.

⠀ ⠀But you won't.

⠀ ⠀He tells you all about all the vulnerable parts of him in hopes of garnering your attention on him. And yes you did, every part of you felt pity for him, and he loves the way you react. Geto loves your expressions. Loves the way your face twists to disgust one time, when he described what a mouthful of curses taste like. Or when you'd press your body behind him (he loves just how much you trust him enough to be intimately close to him), arms wrapped around his back, eyes tightly closed, and mouth slightly agape as the cool breeze of the air hits your face violently, as he flew both of you to take an arial view of the city at night, using a curse, of course.

⠀ ⠀Every face you make, obscure or not, triggers intense reactions from the man. So much so he feels like he could die from perspiration the first time you reciprocated his flirting, by kissing his cheeks, taking him aback. Goodness, he won't ever let anything get in between you two, and he most definitely would never forget the instance you smiled lopsidedly at him right after, a slight flush on your face.

⠀ ⠀Menial conversations became in depth discussions when it came to you, even if your responses would sometimes have frivolous undertones in them; Geto would still want to crawl deeper into your brain, have a need to disect every single information you know. Every course of action you make, the black-haired man would always find examples to love about you. Sometimes, it feels like you're a specimen living under his care, but God does he worship you like you are divine in every way.

⠀ ⠀And Geto wasn't merely a special grade sorcerer for nothing (and they are known for using eccentric methods to get what they want). He was right to assume that the more he initiated on displaying his liking for you, through actions especially, the more you grow increasingly fond of him, but not to his levels of... obsession.

⠀ ⠀But you bask in the attention of your sensual sorcerer, so it wasn't a surpise that, well—

⠀ ⠀It only took a little bit of time to pass - though it felt a very long period of Geto; he had to remind himself that patience and perseverance is key - and then suddenly you two were finally official.

⠀ ⠀And like lovebirds, everywhere you went, you were accompanied by Geto. Hand holding, hands on your waist, eyes finding its way to look at only you, even if there is another person in the room trying to talk to him— it's like he wants to connect himself to you in every way possible. You don't mind it at all, though, already aware enough of his circumstances when it comes to attachment issues.

⠀ ⠀You have been so close before, but even more intimate now, to the point his colleagues and teachers alike were aware of your tight-knit relationship. Even Gojo Satoru, resident tormentor of Jujutsu Tech, teased Geto about his increasing PDA with you, often guffawing in the background whenever he spots you two inseperably cuddling and pressing kisses into each other's cheeks like immature, hormonal teens.

⠀ ⠀You had even slept in the same bed as him.

⠀ ⠀When he woke up the next day, with your head nuzzled into the crevice of his neck, his arms squeezing your body against his, warm sheets entangling both of you together like a cocoon... When you utter random noises in your sleep, snuggling closer to him whenever your dreams become unpleasant... He watches over your slumbering form, sometimes even shifts to make sure you're in a better position, to make sure that the duvet covers you entirely.

⠀ ⠀Geto has never thanked any being above, never intended to, believing that sorcerers are the truly divine beings that humankind should worship— but he laudes whoever is out there, his ancestors perhaps, that for once he was endowed with someone beyond anything he would ever want. You are everything Geto needs in his life.

⠀ ⠀So why is it that..?

⠀ ⠀With everything going so well, so perfect...

⠀ ⠀It was all so perfect until...

⠀ ⠀The notion of prosperity came tumbling down, like a world-ending meteor, when one of his close juniors died from a curse, with his fellow partner in the mission suffering gravely after him. Haibara Yu, a bubbly underclassman who you was also your classmate, so it was no doubt that you, too, grieved.

⠀ ⠀He never wants to see that solemn expression in your face again...

⠀ ⠀The lump of flesh that was presented to Shoko Ieri and the other students, all shoved inside a cadaver bag, reeked of flesh— a scent all jujutsu sorcerers were accustomed to, but never coped with if they bare the knowledge that that someone is familiar with them. He shouldn't have been so affected; in ways where despite caring for his junior... He feels a mixture of animosity brimming inside him.

⠀ ⠀He shouldn't have been so jealous of a corpse gaining the slightest bit of your spotlight, shouldn't be so envious of the way you spill tears over someone else... But most importantly, he hates it when you'd be stuck in a dissociative trance afterwards, just like the one he was in when Riko died. 

⠀ ⠀Everything snaps the moment he remembers his discussion with that fellow blonde-haired special grade, the dead-beat who never did her job. Geto didn't enjoy conversing with her, finding her reasonings meaningless, her words of persuasion only reserved for her interests. He didn't indulge in her as he did you. But that particular conversation cemented itself in his brain, and now he's stuck with questions swirling his mind, questions he knew would be answered with vehement solutions.

⠀ ⠀Then he was back at it again, after rediscovering his memories, in a spiral of neverending speculation. Why do sorcerers need to protect those foul monkeys? Why is it that it is the sorcerers who have to adjust to the norm? Why are they regarded as the odd bunch? Why do they have to die for useless beings lower than them?

⠀ ⠀Amidst all the questioning he does, there were relevant ones that struck a particular nerve in him.

⠀ ⠀It all circles back to you. You, you, you.

⠀ ⠀Why would it not be you?

⠀ ⠀And what if...

⠀ ⠀What if you had died instead of Haibara?

⠀ ⠀Tears, salty and brimming with bitter feelings, for the first time in ages, trickled out his eyes, sliding uncomfortable against shivering skin. Uncontrollable and inevitable. What came with despair was also hysteria.

⠀ ⠀He couldn't cope with that idea. No, not at all— he wants to extinguish the very possibility that you, of all people, could die very early just because— because you would forfeit your life for worthless ones. You're way more than just a sacrificial lamb; you're Geto's everything. He couldn't afford to lose you, couldn't even grasp the prospect of your death.

⠀ ⠀The shower water plummeled down his head like a hailstorm, to his torso, until it nipped on his feet with its unforgiving frost.

⠀ ⠀But he knows you. He's aware that despite the rocky relationship you have with your family, or the demeaning comments from your supposed friends, that you would die for those untalented monsters. You're too considerate. He wants that consideration all for himself.

⠀ ⠀ He hates it, he hates everything whenever you consider everyone but yourself. He will take care of it, of you. But how could he? Not when you insist on sitting quietly and receiving all those harsh treatments forced on you.

⠀ ⠀ He has never felt so helpless before. It devours him, inside and out, like insects crawling on his skin, nipping and biting flesh— like he himself was merely a corpse for maggots to pig through.

⠀ ⠀ It's almost class time, and even if he dreads coming to the class of three (minus one, as Gojo is now consistently busy with missions), burden running down his spine at the notion that you would be in a separate class.

⠀ ⠀Geto overlooked the fact that, despite suffering from the solitude of the bathroom showers, ​​​​​​he isn't as alone as he thought, not anymore. For in his misery, you share the sentiment.

⠀ ⠀ You await him, in his room, eyes sore from incessant tears, body especially nearly letting you down after countless bouts of harming yourself over being unable to comfort your boyfriend over his turmoil. Yet you're unwavering from your seated position, ready to confront your boyfriend shall he ever lead into a path of self destruction.

⠀ ⠀Geto stumbled out of the showers, somber mind neglecting the very schedule he has plastered all over his head, a display of utter patheticness. At this time of the day, you were always loitering around his dorm.

⠀ ⠀ How could he have forgotten? As he rubs fatigue off his eyes, he ceased in his tracks, ears picking up a slight wringing. His wet hair drenched the t-shirt he threw on, but the sharp, frore water isn't the cause of his shivering— it's you, who he saw in the corner of his eyes, sat on his bed.

⠀ ⠀He should've expected it, it was already part of your daily routine to visit him, yet it still shook him when he found a blob of your hair color in his peripheral vision— so much so to the point that even breathing betrayed him.

⠀ ⠀Why was he crying again?

⠀ ⠀ There's no other way to describe Geto's situation, other than that of a trapped dear, with no way to outrun a speeding car in the middle of the road— but you're not the type to harm him - maybe in bed you would, pleasurably - but you wouldn't hurt him because you wanted to. Yet he still fears showcasing vulnerability, afraid of betrayal, especially from you. So all he could do was stand, feet losing sensation, unable to move an inch; to even breath was to move, and he couldn't.

⠀ ⠀ But it was you who cut into the thick atmosphere, standing up, footsteps unheard, towards Geto who was rooted on the floor, body tense.

⠀ ⠀ The first thing he saw when he glanced up with ruddy eyes was your gentle gaze.

⠀ ⠀ He visibly relaxed, albeit unmoving. It doesn't matter, though, not to you at least— because you see his tear-stained cheeks and puffy, tired eyes and uptight body that tells you he won't be emotionally recovering soon. You want do to nothing more other than to spoon him wholly and tell him you'll deal with everything. But you can't. You can't because you're not of the same status as him, not strong enough you stress. And you can't because you're tired, too, just like him and all the others, but especially him. And although you tell yourself that you're an intrepid Jujutu sorcerer who should bare no weaknesses; you can break as easily as the others.

⠀ ⠀ But you have to be strong for him.

⠀ ⠀ Holding his hands in yours, you give it a gentle squeeze, looking down on him with loving eyes. You beat him to it, beat him at his game and questioned him if he's alright, if he needed space to think. To which his answer was to strongly grip your palm a second after the question, gaze hardened on you, as a confirmation that he did not, in fact, want you out his room, for others to look at you and comfort you.

⠀ ⠀ You ask him what's wrong, only for you to sputter back and tell him that he's not​​​​​ obligated to answer any of your questions should he not be stable enough.

⠀ ⠀ Not a single response... You ask again, eyes now harboring a demand for answers, but there's nothing.

⠀ ⠀ Slight irritation follows your countenance when all you were met with was silence...​​

⠀ ⠀Then your stark personality displays itself once more, your voice a deeper octave as you palm his face and stare deeply into his eyes; he falls in love all over again That's when you began mumbling to him, like you're sharing secrets nobody else could access. When you tell him that he has every right to grieve and be frustrated at the same time, that he shouldn't hold back tears; he felt bare naked in front of you. But you weren't scrutinizing him, even if all that comes out your mouth is the truth, ones that should've hurt him for making him feel defenseless in the arms of danger, but didn't. Because those words were from you.

⠀ ⠀Your word is God, and he calms down just enough to stare back at you, shaky figure and everything, and brings his hands to cup your palm, rubbing lovingly.

⠀ ⠀ You peck his cheeks, giggling when you felt the sheer wetness it was drowned in. But before you could pull back as quickly, Geto's head moved faster to kiss your mouth, passionate and seering, hands resting on your waist. It took a few seconds of nuzzling into each other, but it felt like eternity before he withdrawed, palms tenderly rubbing your cheeks.

⠀ ⠀Geto Suguru didn't just love you— he loves you, every part of you. And he decides, from now on, whether you'd consent or not, that you'll never leave him. Familial bonds are nothing to you, now that your parents have finally passed away (and you've no idea on their cause of death, nor the fact that they were brutally mauled by an amalgation of curses), your friends are nothing compared to him— you are the- the only one that matters to him, and he wishes you would reciprocate that notion. 

⠀ ⠀So a choice (one where you, perhaps, will never have a say in) was set in Geto's persistent mind; now or never.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

⠀ ⠀Geto hopes you would forgive him after everything. He hopes that you wouldn't mind it if you were to be permanently separated from the entire civilization, only to be admired by his greedy eyes.

⠀ ⠀ 'Protect human lives?' No, he will not even spare a glance at to those monkeys. He'd prioritizes on a new goal— to protect your life, firstly. From any harm, any danger; from something as small like a prick of a needle to even death itself.

⠀ ⠀ He loves it when you look at him, eyes shining with adoration every time he saves you from momentary danger. So he'll do it again. Though, only now will you be permanently safe, where no filthy nothings may lay hands on you.

⠀ ⠀He hopes that you wouldn't notice how he has an apartment set up just for both of you, that you wouldn't wonder why all your belongings - that were left in your bygone, desolate house - were now moved into the multisectioned rooms designed just for your taste.

⠀ ⠀ He sets a date on his calendar for the day you would be relocated in a new space far more homely and spacious than the dorms in Jujutsu Tech.

⠀ ⠀ By the time the moon engulfs the sky with its dim light, he'd drug your favorite dinner whilst you're comfortably oblivious to his ministrations. He'll be conversing with you while sometimes feeding you portions of his food, as couples always do (except for the part his tongue would linger a bit long on his chopstick after he fed you with it), laughing tenderly with each others' jokes and simply enjoying the solitude of being together... Then after a while you would be too hazy to comprehend anything, and Geto, being your ever-so loving boyfriend, will guide you to your now shared dormitory, and he'll tuck you in, not after you briefly snuggle with him in bed— and, well, he didn't want to get up from your tight embrace. But he has to, for the sake of your safety and his sanity.

⠀ ⠀ The travel would be made as smooth as possible, with silent promises that you won't even feel a wee bit of discomfort despite your heavily drugged state; he'll guarantee you won't awake from your slumber— he would curse himself if he wasn't gentle with your while you were in your most vulnerable state. The look he has on his face as he stares at your closed eyes and stable breathing is so soothing, just like all the times you've treated him nicely. He'll be so... so good to you. He'll secure himself with the position as the only one you'll ever need in your life. If he can't abide by his promises, then he doesn't deserve to be called your lover. 

⠀ ⠀ You'll- you'll give him another chance, wouldn't you? Even if the chances see your friends (they're unworthy of your presence, never appreciating you for all the things you've done for them) or family (as if you have any to come back to; he eliminated those worthless beings) would be zero— you'll understand, no?

⠀ ⠀ You don't have to do any arduous chores inside the apartment. Everything would be given to you as long as you stay with him. Everything. You'll be granted limited access to internet, with all your history rooted into his tracking devices— though you'd have every means of entertainment you want. Food isn't a problem, your device would only have access to Geto's phone, so you could call him any time your stomach buzzes with hunger, and the fridge is always stocked with your favorite snacks. Every hobby you would garner would be indulged in— you had once briefly mentioned your interests in crocheting, but never having the opportunity to due to clashing schedules between school and personal life. Now is the perfect opportunity to do anything, as long as it stays within his radar.

⠀ ⠀ All you have to do is, as hard as it may be, is to accept your new living environment. Nothing else would change, even if you choose to fight him back at first— because Geto loves you, and he'll deny his heart the turmoil of ever losing you.

⠀ ⠀ So once you'd arise from the bed with an unfamiliar, yet cozy blanket, (that he bought specifically catering to your tastes), he would be at your beck and call before you could even properly sit up (still sober from the heavy dosage of sedatives your boyfriend forced on you without your knowledge).

⠀ ⠀ Any concerns you would ask, it would be entertained with Geto plastering a silvery smile, even if your tone harbored unease. If tears ever came running down your eyes, Geto wouldn't shut you up, but he definitely wouldn't leave you be, to your thoughts alone - like he was back then - not at all. He'd approach you so steadily, careful if you'd flinch the slightest bit once his legs hit the mattress, and he'll hold you so tightly (worst part is, you've no chains or ropes tied on your limbs, no evident scars that was whilst Geto was on the process of kidnapping you. You have nothing to be mad about. He is just so gentle), apologizing profusely as if he wasn't the reason why you're even weeping in the first place once he thoroughly explained the reason for your abduction.

⠀ ⠀ He hates it when you cry, but God does he love it when, despite susceptible state of anguish, you'd reciprocate his hold; as if even your mind, body, and heart couldn't deny that it ultimately belonged to Geto.

⠀ ⠀ So you have to bargain your way through this, not out of it— you're logical enough to know your strengths and weaknesses and you know that in terms of strength, your lover would win. You know him better than everything, and you don't accept easy defeat, you want to fight your way out of this but... The look of adulation in Geto's eyes is way too familiar, that you're the one falling in love again, albeit the strange circumstances.

⠀ ⠀ Then you weigh everything that has been happening for the past for months, and all the signs hits you in the damn face. Geto didn't flirt with you with the intentions of playing with your heart as you have thought so in your second meeting— because if he did, he wouldn't have known all your favorites, didn't say all the words you wanted to hear. He planned everything from the start. Yet you don't feel an ounce of malice from him, you didn't do anything wrong— you weren't abducted because he wanted to torture you; you were abducted because he wants you. For himself, away from the world that wants to tear you to shreds. You brought this onto yourself, so willing to give your heart and soul to the man you thought you love, the man you still do love.

⠀ ⠀ Fuck. A new batch of tears painted your already tear-stained face. You stare at him, his furrowed brows, his handsomely sculpted countenance - the one you held so fondly, kissed a thousand times, worshipped eternally -  yours so incredulous, so filled with utter disarray. Why do you forgive him after everything? Why, nothing more or less, do you want him to tell you everything is alright, since he's there for you?

⠀ ⠀ Perhaps it's the emotions building inside you that bursts like a dam. The resentment you built upon your childhood, or the tears you've wasted on past crushes, or the whole entire world pressuring you to endure through its own faults. Maybe you were similar to him in more ways than one.

      And maybe that's why instead of convincing him to let you go, you tell him you won't be going anywhere. His appalled reaction motioned you to continue, to tell him that you're tired, of life, of everything that's been going on so far. You never wanted to be a sorcerer, but you've no choice lest you wish to sleep on the cold sidewalk of the streets. Every single day was constant pressure, dread that one day you may be disposed of by the high school you reside in shall you ever display a single flaw.

      All the built up secrets that you confided in him shattered his heart to pieces. And it breaks him even more knowing he shares the same sentiment with you. No more. The abrupt kiss to your mouth promptly shut you up, before you could even continue, and you let it be. You willingly open your mouth when he softly nibbled on the bottom of your lips, wet tongue already attacked by another the moment his entered your mouth. The bitter ache in your heart receded. You let him be.

      There was nothing inherently sexual with his and your actions, it was nothing but romantic in your eyes. Tongues entwining, saliva mixing, choaked moans, and all doubts and burdens ceasing in one heated moment— your kisses never lasted long, nor did it ever lead into a make-out so intense like you're both fusing; but it's exactly what you need right now: To get drunk off the passion of Geto's heavy lips and the lack of oxygen that comes after...

      It's enough to make you sleepy, as you gently push your boyfriends slightly ruddy face off of you, at a distance where he was close enough that your noses could still touch. Your face flushes even more at the string of saliva interconnecting both your mouths, but your eyes find itself back into his already piercing eyes, clouded with dizzying passion. Every part of you feels like it would burst into flames the more you relish under his intense gaze, so you opted to move quickly and bury your head into the side of neck, hands lazily plastered on his waist, mouth readily nearing his ears. He reciprocated your actions, chuckling fondly at your affectionate gestures as his knees adjusted to pin both your thighs together, whilst his arms act as a cage to trap you against his chest.

      Before you could utter a word, Geto beats you to it, telling you that you should both sleep already. Despite you having been knocked out for an entire day, with a buzzing headache and numb limbs, it's no doubt you were still tired, and he was too... You move your head from the comfortable position nested on his shoulders and look back at him, at the small eyebags that once again found itself on his face— it takes you back to when you first met him. Burnt out, mellow, but undeniably handsome. You kissed him again, shorter and sweeter this time, nodding as you shifted to lay on the bed, leaving space for Geto, who is still seated, watching you with an indiscernible expression.

      Beckoning for him him drowsily, to join you, you've promptly felt the confines of sleep taking you further into the world of dreams. Dreams where you'd wake up with your loving and compassionate Geto, rather than that of escaping the cage he set up for you. It took a few seconds for your boyfriend to finally move, laying down beside you with arms creeping to your waist. Not a single word was said, only the ruffling of the blanket was heard. You're the one who spoons him when it comes to sleeping in a shared bed together, but his hands found itself moving your head to his chest - the thumping of his heart entrapped in his ribcage tells you he's calm enough, trusting that you won't escape from his ministrations - as though to tell you that only you can have his heart in your hands, nobody else. It didn't take long for you to slowly shut your eyes once more, admitting that his heartbeats was a comforting source for slumber.

⠀ ⠀'You're just so adorable,' he thinks to himself, drifting into the same land of dreams as you, holding you tightly and never letting go.

⠀ ⠀ ...

⠀ ⠀ Geto Suguru is a man of a few words, who dons a plethora of promises, shall you ever be wanting. When he first saw you whilst looking through your files, he at first thought you were average, unmemorable by standards. But even in first impressions would there always be a magnetic draw, strong enough to make it last eternally. (Un)fortunately for you, Geto has always loved you without even knowing it, and the way your first night together - you being away from the tainted hands of civilization - was beyond tranquil, unnatural traits from a prey who was taken unwillingly.

⠀ ⠀ But nothing else matters. Not the concept of healthy relationships, nor the opinions of family or friends, and most certainly not the ridiculing of society's norms.

⠀ ⠀ Nothing matters other than the two bodies entangling themselves on a bed for two, settling in for the night, as lovers do.

Fin.

​​​╭── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

      —       PLEASE ! Leave comments, follow me and share this to anybody if you enjoyed this one-shot. It would be appreciated greatly. I've been through writer's block for nearly a year or two now, and writing this helped me combat it. I thoroughly enjoyed making this, and I hope that it's good enough for the readers too! It took me very long to write all these out, as I am rusty wirh writing (and I struggle with English), but really, I would appreciate interaction and likes over anything else! I might publish this as a stand-alone one-shot in a separate book. As always, don't hesitate to request! Thank you for reading this!

26.1 Pages

Published: 02/25/2024

Word Count: 9100+ words

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

[sgiandubh]

It's always The Others

Much has been written/said/barked about S's 'mommies'. With more or less logic and more of less grace - nevermind, this has become a given, even expected trope of this fandom. 'Mommies this', 'mommies that', everything going wrong (according to whom, exactly?) is probably because of them. When it's not, of course, because of Undeserving S, that mercantile prick who deserves to die (but Lord, please make him bang them first, in fair retribution).

That being said, nobody seems to have uttered a word about C's mommies. You read that right, she has her own, and they are now blaming Orlando B (NOT the script, NOT the director, NOT even Fate Itself) for what some critics already called an underserving 'typical concerned spouse role' (see that Indiewire review I can't be arsed to link to, while still at the office). Exactly what an abusive matriarch would say about any Great Pretender wooing their Baby Doll. So you see, it's not the typecasting and it's not even the critic, but always The Others, and especially her Male Co-star.

With that kind of rabid tinted glasses, it should come as no surprise that S, who is guilty or suspected of anything but the kitchen sink or the Black Death, as far as she is concerned, is so unredeemably vilified. All you have to do is, cumulatively: a) not be McGill (whose weak, unconvincing and uncomfortably poor ACTing seems to be harmless enough for them, thus ok) and b) be a living, breathing male positioned at a distance of 50 feet and less from C.

What if people would start considering S, C and also SC for what they really, really are -living, breathing human beings- , not for what their excessive projection mechanisms make of them. Many shippers do so. They understood these people also make mistakes and it is also those mistakes that make them so endearing. We gotcha, S and C, even when you are wrong. And we gotcha for all the good things you perhaps inadvertently made happen.

[actual-changeling]

I have written many meta posts and s3-theories, and read even more, but I got hit by an idea I have not seen before. (If there is another post, please link it!)

After vibrating for an hour and losing my mind in my dms, I have no scraped together enough brain cells to present what is probably my first actual 'main-plot meta'.

Welcome to another edition of Alex's unhinged meta corner, today with a title to honour Crowley's James Bond obsession and the possibility of another heaven heist.

I give you:

From Jesus with Love - You Will Live Twice

Now, let's get right into it.

I think Neil might have told us more about the main s3 plotline in the announcement article than we previously thought. We all got stuck on 'they're not talking'—for good reason—but it is the part before that which has been bugging me ever since then.

The plans are going wrong—and this time that is a problem for earth and humanity. Turning that around, it means that whatever that plan consists of would be the way to go and beneficial for everyone, the opposite of the main plot of s1.

"They need to prevent the Second Coming (SC)" is pretty much the only and most popular idea I have seen, hundreds of fics and metas and whatnot have been written about it, but I think there's a good chance we're wrong. If we're not, well, I will honestly just be happy to be watching season 3.

Whatever the Metatron is planning will have negative consequences for everyone, or as Michael puts it: "And so… it ends. Everything ends. Time and the world is over, and we begin Eternity… forever and ever."

It sounds very much like Apocalypse #1 - Same Old Plan, same expected result, yet if we look at different interpretations of scripture we find that the SC is not entirely about complete destruction and death for all of humanity—it is about creating a new world/migrating to the kingdom of God.

This is taken from the Wikipedia article about the SC

Resurrection and life in a world to come are a direct contradiction to the result Michael is explaining—total annihilation of humanity.

Now, I am neither religious in any way nor have I ever received any sort of biblical education. Luckily, Christians seem to love talking about the bible because there are dozens of bible website to wade through. If I get anything wrong, please point it out, I have never touched a bible in my life.

So, after reading many, many quotes by a bunch of different guys, I tried to create a somewhat coherent picture of what the SC might look like based on the assumption that the end result is positive. I will talk about how they can be interpreted more in-depth later, otherwise this would turn into a string-net very fast.

Additionally, we can also see where these points overlap with the statement Jimbriel gave in the bookshop in episode three.

What is Jesus' job description?

only God knows when and how exactly it will begin/happen, no one else does, including Jesus and the Metatron

a lot of different catastrophes are mentioned or quoted as something Jesus said, like earthquakes and storms -> Jimbriel mentioned a tempest and great storms

there is also the line "All these are the beginning of birth pains." Birth pains dictate that there will be a birth—birth of the world to come perhaps?

dead people will be resurrected/leave their graves so that they too can be judged (I'd say participate in it but that sounds like the Second Coming is a summer camp activity)

there are also mentions of stars and the heavens in general falling from the sky and the sun going dark -> Jimbriel also mentions darkness as one of the signs

great lamentations, as Jimbriel says, are also a part of many different passages, with humans mourning the world as it was

the Lord will descent with the voice of an Archangel and the sound of a trumpet/the trumpet of God; the grammatical structure of that sentence seems to be interpreted differently depending on who you ask, but the voices of angels/an Archangel and some sort of trumpet are common terms

once everyone is in heaven/wherever the 'main even' will take place, a judgement call will be made for every single person in relation to the book of life, which decides whether they will be punished forever or not (one passage talks about a lake of fire and mentions it several times in a row)

And this is where it gets tricky. To figure out what the SC looks like, we first need to understand a) what the Metatron's capabilities are, b) what he has to lose, and c) what exactly would be a threat to him.

If you ask me, all of this comes down to the Metatron wanting to stay and be in power for eternity with full control over angels so he can do as he please, aka keeping the system running as it is.

We know the book of life (bol) is a thing in the Good Omens universe, whether it does what Michael said is an entirely different question. So far, we have also only got confirmation that hell collects and tortures souls—in such large amounts that they are understaffed—while heaven looks completely empty.

The Metatron runs heaven as an institution, he seems to be the highest power any of the angels have access to and the one they defer to. He refers to himself as the voice of God and combines judge, jury and executioner, making him one great celestial dictator.

From what we know of hell, they do things a lot more democratically, having different councils, dukes, and ranks that are responsible for different levels of command.

We also know that that the Metatron wants the world to end, his goals can probably be summarized as the statement Michael makes, which would leave him in charge without any opposing forces.

We also also know that he sees Crowley and Aziraphale as a threat—why exactly remains a mystery for now—and that the success of his plan hinges on having a Supreme Archangel (SA) he can control. Gabriel decided to become princess of hell and Beez' sugar baby, so he was out of the equation, and after the Armageddon disaster, I don't think he wants to risk failing because of an unfamiliarity with earth (plus, y'know, getting our two idiots away from the plan).

It's interesting to me that right at the end, he says to Aziraphale "We call it the Second Coming"—call, not it is or it will be, CALL. We know that nothing Neil writes is a coincidence, definitely not with such an important line.

Just because you CALL something a specific name doesn't mean it IS what you call it, e.g. Aziraphale calls Crowley a foul fiend when we know he very much isn't.

The Metatron is selling his plan as part of the "Great/Ineffable Plan", so any questions can be blocked by saying it's God's will, it's ineffable. Whatever his plan is, he hides it behind the concept of the Second Coming, which angels know just enough about to understand the basics without having in-depth knowledge of what exactly it entails.

It is a good fucking strategy, I'll give him that, and it WORKS because angels—even if they have doubts—do not question. They simply don't; fear of punishment and millennia of conditioning have left them in a horrible place. When they encounter something unknown, their response is "I already knew that" as to not ask questions.

Crowley questions, we know that, and Aziraphale, ohhhhh, Aziraphale ALSO questions, but he does it in a less dangerous and obvious way. The Metatron is vastly underprepared for that.

(Side note: That alone would be its own meta post, but the gist is that he questions heaven's plans and then adjusts his assumptions of what God might want to what he WANTS God to want, e.g. Job, the Arch)

To summarize everything I just said, the Metatron wants to do what Armageddon failed to do—destroy earth and the universe—so he can be supreme dictator of all remaining celestial beings and gorge himself on power.

But instead of calling it his Big Evil Plan, he calls it the Second Coming, making everyone play along without resistance.

We cycle aaaaall the way back to the sentence I quoted—the ACTUAL plans are going wrong since the Metatron's would mean total destruction.

But what is the SC supposed to be if not the Apocalypse 2.0?

When I look at all the different aspects of the SC and assume a positive outcome, then the end result to me would be a new world that is pretty much like the old world, or maybe even literally the old world but with any destruction reversed. Heaven and hell get dissolved since now that everyone has been "judged", they as institutions are no longer needed, they have fulfilled their purpose.

No more judgement means there is no reason to keep track anymore, so why do you need to run celestial corporations whose only job is doing exactly that? You don't—and THAT is what I believe is the biggest perceived threat to the Metatron, losing full control over everyone and everything, losing his position, his title, and whatever else he has.

On top of that, Good Omens has told us again and again that God doesn't seem to give a fuck about good and evil anymore, and that without heaven and hell being all wrapped up in it, humanity would have 100% free will without any consequences.

Maybe the BoL is empty, maybe it isn't real, maybe Jesus stole it to straighten a wobbly table, who knows. There is a chance it is what Michael says, but I would admittedly find that a bit. too obvious and boring since it would boil the plot down to "they save their own asses again" and not "they save humanity at all cost".

Regarding Crowley and Aziraphale's role in this—I have Thoughts TM but those definitely need their own post. In short, they have to get the SC back on track, the real one.

-

If you have made it this far, thank you for working through what I hope are more or less coherent rambles. Any spelling or grammar mistakes are my own.

Questions? Thoughts? Corrections? Expansions and additions?

Feel free to add to this post however you like (and I can't believe I have to mentions this but if you clown on my post or behave like an asshole you will be blocked).

[kim-jongin-s]

svt fic recs (mostly nc-17; jeongcheol, verkwan, minwon + other)

JEONGCHEOL

"fuckme.mp3 (a smash hit)". au, underground rapper!sc. oneshot, 2k. nc-17.

It's all thanks to Hansol, really.

"calibration". omegaverse: alpha!sc, omega!jh. oneshot, 2k. nc-17.

“…can tell he really wants you,” Hansol is saying, somewhere nearby, except for a minute it doesn’t smell like Hansol, and Seungcheol blinks, confused, until he sees who’s following Hansol into the room and stops caring about anything else.

"a thousand degrees tonight". oneshot, 3.6k. nc-17.

The novelty has yet to wear off, knowing that he can have someone as strong and sure and dependable as Seungcheol like this- unfocused, needy. Desperate for him.

"babysitting gone wrong". au, babysitter!jh. oneshot, 4k. nc-17.

In which, Jeonghan gets hired to babysit the youngest Choi for the night but ends up sitting on the meaty thick thighs of the eldest Choi sibling.

"amour". au, vampire!sc. oneshot, 7.7k. nc-17. (check out the prequels to fully enjoy this one.)

At some point, Seungcheol had found himself with a collection of all the small, intimate noises that Jeonghan had made for him tucked away in a secret part of his heart.

"praying at your altar". modern royalty!au: bodyguard!sc, prince!jh. oneshot, 8.6k. nc-17.

Above all, the prince is precious.

"stay here with me". au, psychologist!sc. 5 chapters, 31k. r. ♡♡

Eight months after his younger sister's death, Jeonghan is struggling. Barely hanging on. He's tired. Lonely. Wishing he could find one therapist that understands his niece. Then he makes an appointment with newly graduated child psychologist Choi Seungcheol.

VERKWAN

"one day we're gonna get". oneshot, 1.6k. nc-17.

“Come on! As if you don’t know I look at you!” Hansol’s eyes are wide, exasperated. His tone is teasing. His grip on Seungkwan’s arm is so tight.

He’s scared that Seungkwan doesn’t believe it, Seungkwan can tell.

"one pound of flesh". historical!au, omegaverse: omega!sk, alpha!vn. oneshot, 4.5k. nc-17.

A strange marriage, to an even stranger alpha.

"sinking/floating". omegaverse: omega!sk, omega!vn. twoshot, 12k. nc-17.

Hansol presents late. Seungkwan is right there to guide him through it.

"left where the daylight comes". regency!au, omegaverse: omega!sk, alpha!vn. twoshot, 50k. nc-17. ♡♡♡♡♡

“Our dear Seungkwan is engaged to be mated to Alpha Park by the end of the summer season!” Seungkwan’s mother says, cheerily.

The delicate porcelain cup shatters under the force of Hansol’s hand.

"easily (like do re mi)". au, teacher!sk, single parent!vn. 5 chapters, 53k. pg-13.

As a single father, Hansol tends to worry too much.

Then, comes Boo Seungkwan, a kindergarten teacher that occupies Hansol’s mind more than he knows what to do with.

MINWON

"don't mention it". omegaverse: alpha!ww, alpha!mg. oneshot, 2k. nc-17. ♡

Mingyu's preferred person to spend his rut with may not be the most evident choice.

"the trials and tribulations of being accidentally bonded". college!au, omegaverse: omega!ww, alpha!mg. oneshot, 41k. r.

Jeon Wonwoo was supposed to be a Beta. He was also supposed to hate a certain Kim Mingyu with all his might. But, then again, who says life couldn't roughly take you in the ass without preparation?

OTHER

"we". wonwoo/seokmin/mingyu. oneshot, 15k. nc-17.

“Hyung, would you ever want to have a threesome?”

"love so tender (you are my)". chanhan. omegaverse: beta!jh, omega!dn. twoshot, 16k. nc-17.

Jeonghan is good at being in the middle. Extreme emotions are not really his forte. So he is grateful to be born as a beta. Less drama, easier.

Then he meets Lee Chan.

"over and over again". seoksoon. soulmate!au. oneshot, 19k. r.

Soonyoung has the easiest time finding his soulmate - running into him in the hallway at age nine kind of speeds things along. Nothing after that, though, is anywhere near as simple.

[vaporclan]

Moon 193 Part 7

I imagine cats have varying levels of StarClan connections ….. I think Fernpaw’s near death experience gave him an incredibly strong StarClan connection - maybe he WAS fated to die there but it didn’t happen ….

For cats like Ebonystorm and Azalea who joined the Clan at a way older age and had never heard of StarClan in their lives, they don’t really have a connection to SC. They’ll still go there of course but they don’t really care about it

Brindlestar, being the leader, has a pretty big StarClan connection

Serpentpaw too, cause StarClan likes him :3

Rainshade…. He grew up in a DF centred Clan and grew a disdain for beliefs centred around afterlives in general - he’s aware StarClan exists by this point but he doesn’t feel comfortable with them (he doesn’t want to feel controlled by an afterlife) and also partially blames them for everything that’s gone wrong . His SC connection is nonexistent lol

Beetlebud is just average. Just an average SC connection. Not too strong not too weak. StarClan doesn’t feel much about him and he doesn’t feel much about them

Paleghost can visit StarClan whenever they want, as they were a reincarnation for a while. They actually don’t give much of a fuck about StarClan or the DF. They like to stay out of that stuff

Wolfeyes is a special boy . StarClan likes him. He’s also the med cat so

[rheanyraaaa]

WaterLilly Part 6

Enemies To Lovers

Robb Stark x Frey Reader (F)

warnings: child death, mentions of miscarriage, angst, very very rushed

A/N: Omg i rushed this so badly, and it’s not proof read, just had time to launch a chapter and went for it.

(y/n but with backstory)

——————————————————————————

Robb woke early, the soft morning light filtering into his tent. The previous night’s conversation with his mother weighed on him, lingering in his mind like a shadow that wouldn’t fade. He dressed, strapping on his cloak and sword, and made his way out into the crisp morning air to clear his head. As he walked through the camp, he spotted a familiar figure in the distance, Y/N astride a horse, her hair loose and catching the morning sun as she rode in slow, careful circles.

Impulsively, Robb decided to join her. Grabbing his own horse, he mounted up and approached her, noting the ease and confidence with which she handled the reins. She gave him a curious look as he came up beside her.

“Out for a morning ride?” he asked, falling into step with her pace.

You nodded, offering a polite, if surprised, smile. “Yes, I wanted some air… it clears my head.” There was a pause before you added, “I like to take in the view, think things through. It helps… especially with so much when i’m anxious.”

They soon fell into a conversation about the coming battles, discussing strategies and the rumors of troop movements. Robb found himself surprised by her insights, the way she thoughtfully considered the options. For the first time, he could see what his mother had meant about her intelligence and dedication.

Then, as they rode further out, a thought struck him. “Are you sure you should be riding?” he asked, casting a glance down at her abdomen, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “With the baby and all…”

You gave a small laugh, waving off his concern. “I’ll be fine. I’ve ridden all my life. Besides, the maester said light riding is perfectly safe.”

But as you spoke, a sudden look of discomfort crossed her face, her hand drifting to your stomach. Your breathing quickened as a frown of pain creased her brow.

Robb’s heart leapt in alarm, and without hesitation, he reached out, steadying you by the arm. “Are you alright?”

“It’s… it’s nothing,” you murmured, though your face had gone pale. But the pain seemed to grow, and before you could protest, Robb dismounted and moved to your side, helping you carefully down from your horse. His hands held you firmly as he guided you to sit on a nearby log, his expression creased with concern.

“Stay here. I’ll get the maester,” he said, his voice steady but edged with panic.

A few moments later, the camp’s maester arrived, examining her as Robb stood nearby, tense and watching. After a careful check, the maester reassured them both that it was only a minor cramp, a normal part of early pregnancy. You gave a small, relieved smile, and Robb, though still visibly tense, managed to let out a breath, his shoulders loosening.

“Thank you,” You whispered, looking up at him with a quiet gratitude that surprised them both. He nodded, his hand lingering briefly on your shoulder before he excused himself.

The following days slipped into routine, and despite moments of gentleness with You, Robb still found himself drawn back to Talisa, seeking comfort and familiarity. He spent his nights with her, sharing her bed and letting himself forget, if only for a while, the strain of duty and loyalty.

——————————————————————————

One night, Y/N lay alone in her tent, a strange unease curling in her stomach. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Her breathing quickened, her heart racing with a fear she couldn’t explain. And then, without warning, pain stabbed through her abdomen, sharp, relentless, unlike anything she’d felt before. She clutched her stomach, gasping for breath as the pain intensified.

Moments later, her cries brought Catelyn rushing into the tent. The older woman’s face went pale as she took in the scene, moving quickly to Irene’s side.

“My lady, hold on,” Catelyn said firmly, her hands steady as she supported Irene. “The maester is on his way.”

The pain was overwhelming, a blinding ache that tore through her, and she felt a deep, primal fear settle in her chest. As the maester finally arrived and examined her, his expression turned grave. He murmured to Catelyn, and Y/N, though dazed, caught the words the baby was lost.

The news hit her like a blow. She choked on a sob, her chest heaving as grief crashed over her. She clutched at Catelyn, burying her face against her shoulder as tears streamed down her cheeks. Catelyn held her close, her arms strong and unyielding, her own expression pained yet comforting.

“I’m so sorry, child,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. “I’m so very sorry.”

Your sobs echoed through the tent, the loss settling heavily in your heart. The pain, both physical and emotional, was unbearable, and as you clung to Catelyn, as you felt an emptiness unlike any you had known. All you could do was cry, your grief uncontained, as the world outside continued in silent, indifferent motion.

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Tags!! (tell me who wants to be tagged!!)

@samieree @maysileeewrites

[twopoppies]

Not saying those 1D reunion rumours are not be true but I wonder what would be the purpose? Okay, there´s this 15 years anniversary of 1D next year. What else? HS4 was rumoured to drop this year since like Jan 2nd, the last rumour was dropping a new single on Oct 18th but because of Liam´s tragic death we won´t know if those rumours were actually true or false like every other this year. So it´s very likely HS4 will drop next year when H will be mentally ready to come back after his grief. I also believe both Louis and Niall will be writing/recording their 3rd album and probably would like to focus on this. And Zayn will maybe test waters on festivals if he´ll get comfortable enough with his 1st tour. Also don´t forget that SC is still alive and he will do everything to make it look like it´s all on him, that this reunion is happening because of him and so everyone should say thank you, uncle Simon, for FINALLY bringing our boys back together. And so I still kind of doubt boys will be like "yeah whatever, it´s about a time, let´s make an 1D reunion and repair SC´s reputation and bring him back on the headlines". Not especially after Liam´s death because we and they know it was all SC´s fault.

I don’t know, love. That’s just as much assumption and speculation as the reunion is. But I also think there’s no real point in going around and around unless someone has some credible information. So far we have a handful of anonymous comments which could be true, but there’s no way to know.

If Louis and Niall are writing/recording, and Zayn does some festivals, that doesn’t stop them taking time to rehearse and do a two week residency for a reunion. I have my doubts about HS4 coming any time soon (although I fervently hope I’m wrong).

I’m also not terribly concerned about Simon. I think Sony stripped him of everything they could in terms of 1D. Whatever he says, he likely won’t be collecting anything off of it—even a boost to his reputation.

My bigger question, if a reunion were to happen, is how are Harry and Louis going to be able to be in the same space without bursting into flames of fondness, and will we have to endure a resurgence of babygate?

[kiwiana-writes]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

A big ol' fuck you to @rmd-writes for the tag xoxo

1. How many works do you have an AO3? Lol. Lmao even. 289.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 914,620 on AO3, but that includes co-writes as well as things I've podficced where the fic and pod are in the same work. My actual personally-written wordcount, per my Batshit Spreadsheet, is 771,819.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Mostly RWRB these days, though most of my back catalogue is Schitt's Creek. Also The Pairing and various other things scattered about.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Kinda think that I might be his type aka Alex and Bea fake date coming in at the top spot, which will never not bewilder me. Don't get me wrong, it's a lovely fic!! But I am always surprised that it was a few hundred more kudos than:

With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest), the Much Ado actors AU. My magnum opus, my beloved.

We were supposed to find this - baby's first soulmate AU and my first RWRB fic. The brainrot really took hold with this one lmao.

All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers, in which Henry takes 'open mouth insert foot' to a whole new level.

Warm like the glow that you feel head to toe, the age gap fic with older Senator Alex and younger Prince Henry. This is probably the only one in my top five that really surprises me, considering age gaps are... divisive.

5. Do you respond to comments? Always always always.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I mean I did write that one MCD fic in Schitt's Creek, though I maintain the other five parts in that 5+1 are in fact angstier than the MCD ending.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Uhhhhhhh, the rest? The Doylist answer is any of my fics where the HEA is literally forever rather than 'till death do us part'; so, the Schitt's Creek afterlife AU and the RWRB zombie!Alex AU. (Is that all? Am I forgetting one?)

8. Do you get hate on fics? Yeah, sometimes. Weirdly, more through tumblr anons than on the fics themselves? A lot of them I just delete, sometimes I'll give them a bit of a public scolding etc. Frankly at this point if you come into my ask box to be a cunt on anon I'm going to assume you have a public humiliation kink and will indulge you accordingly.

9. Do you write smut? Who's to say.

10. Do you write crossovers? I'm more inclined towards a fusion than a crossover (love a good media fusion) but I did write a short RWRB/The Pairing crossover for VoiceTeam.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. Someone did ask recently, so we'll see!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? HEAPS. @ships-to-sail is an ongoing collaborator, but I also did a bunch of "each write a chapter" type collabs in Schitt's Creek. Currently co-writing something truly fucking incredible with @indestructibleheart.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? IDK if it's a WIP by the strictest definition, but every day the likelihood of the SC kink!verse series being completed slips further away lol.

16. What are your writing strengths? Rae, you're the worst.

Smut, I guess? Giving people new kinks, apparently. Character voice. Also a very specific type of world-building where I explain nothing because the characters already live in that world and let y'all infer how it works, which came up a LOT on one of this year's Kinktober fics in particular and led to my spouse saying "okay so you're basically the Brennan Lee Mulligan of tree fucking", which is sure not a sentence I expected to ever be directed towards me, but here we are.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Anything original, apparently. Good thing I didn't quit my job to be a writer or anything OH WAIT.

(In all seriousness, though, I am genuinely shit at, like, plotting. And action sequences.)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? If it makes sense for the character, sure! I'm enlisting someone who speaks it for anything more complicated than, like, a pet name - I've seen what Google Translate tries to spit out for my second language and therefore don't trust it lmao.

19. First fandom you wrote for? terf queen mcgee's property.

20. Favourite fics you've written? The RWRB fic specifically based on the episode The Husbands of River Song from Doctor Who. Hands down the best thing I've ever written.

I also fucking LOVED the Much Ado actor AU. My love letter to Shakespeare and theatre and queer joy.

-

Tagging @blueeyedgrlwrites @cactusdragon517 @cricketnationrise @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @notspecialbabe @orchidscript

@piratefalls @sherryvalli @sparklepocalypse @stereopticons @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! 

[odessa-2]

Sorry to disagree but SC enjoy this circus. Everyone that surrounds them,friends,collegues,etc are more authentic

What's wrong with these two?

It's not a love story but a.toxic one

I never said that it wasn't toxic. Does a healthy relationship look like falsifying marriage documents, committing a crime and fake marrying your Gaylord friend? Does a healthy relationship look like putting your Gaylord friend's name on your Father's death notice then having your real husband don a rusty coloured hair piece at your fathers funeral and try to pass him off as your brother? Does a healthy relationship look like paying hookers to do a walk of shame and photographing it while you secretly stash away your wife and kids? It's completely FUCKED with a capital "F".

You know what a healthy relationship is? A healthy relationship is owning your truth and family. Claiming them with pride and nurturing the gift that has been gifted to you by a divine power. Look at Cait's friend (or former friend) Simon Kassianides. He shows his wife's face on SM, he announces the birth of his child with no question as to who the mother and father are. He doesn't pap walk with trollops. HEALTHY. NORMAL.

It looks like Simon got married in a traditional Greek ceremony. Looks like Cait was not in attendance. To pivot for a moment here, what happened to Simon and Caitriona's friendship? She hasn't liked a single IG post of his for his wedding or daughter's birth. Nor has she liked any of his posts for years. They use to live together. They probably shagged back in the day let's be honest. As if two cuties such as them who shacked up together didn't have special benifits. And Cait did seem to like Mediterranean men. I mean she dated Dave Milone who was as ugly as sin for Pete's sake. Simon even came to visit her in Scotland when she landed OL role. So they were on good terms.

Simon did, however, apologise for his late congratulatory message of the arrival of Auggie and congratulated 'them both' and danced to 'celebrate them all'. Tastefully said Simon 👏. And then zilch. No more contact.

Here are my two cents. Greek men are proud and traditional. I think Simon looks at what Caitriona has become and looks upon the narrative with disgust. He probably wants nothing to do with it. He has distanced himself. He never went steady with her all those years back and maybe there is a reason for that. Perhaps they were just better off as platonic friends, or perhaps he recognised something within her that kept her in the friends with benefits zone and just as well. He saved himself from a life of hell and has a beautiful, healthy life and family.

[lanthimo]

People saying Levi should have died and Yams only let him survive for fan service is hilarious because a) Yams isn't a fan service kinda writer b) Levi surviving makes so much sense? As the SC's strongest soldier, as the heart of the SC, he survived everything and lives to honor all their sacrifices and represents what they stood for, it is amazing writing. That's why Levi's last salute is so impactful: he fought so hard to give meaning to their deaths, he fought so hard for the world they dreamed of. Now he will continue to live in that world for his own sake and their sake, honoring them while also healing himself. His death would be pointless and only brain-dead anime fans who jerk off to every single anime death like it's the greatest piece of media ever would enjoy a pointless death. You can impress a random anime dudebro with a death scene even if your story is trash, it's hilarious how basic they are.

There is something seriously wrong with people who think grief lasts forever and your trauma never heals so if something bad happens to you, you should just die. This weird obsession with anime characters only being good if they heroically die is so fucking weird to me.