#Like the Light by Which God Made the World Before He Made Light
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Another addition to the letters, kindly suggested to me by @satura-lanx
(as before, the translation is mine and I'm not an expert in the field- also I'll admit Ranieri's writing is not as clear as Leopardi's and it'sa huge pain to read, eugh)
Ranieri, Naples, July 1st 1837, to Fanny Targioni Tozzetti (the woman Leopardi fell in love with and dedicated Aspasia to)
"My dear Fanny,
The kind of pain I feel now was never felt before by any other man, because never there was and never there will be a friendship like the one that bound me to my beloved Leopardi. The immense, infinite void that I feel in my heart will never be filled again, because a genius like Leopardi happens to the Earth once in many centuries. How can it be, My God! How can it be possible to not believe in the evil of this ominous world, if God, or a chance, or fate or whatever this tyrannous power that rules us is, could allow that such love could be given in the world, a necessity such as the one between Leopardi and I, and that one of us was doomed to survive the other!
Oh, my dear Fanny, I've made the tremendous experience of a great exception to a great rule!
Everything in this world, bad and good, is in fact below what it was when we only dared imagine it (cfr, "it's in it's effect below to what we previously imagined"), except the pain for the grievance of those dear to us. (...)
Leopardi has passed away, from Italy, no, from the world whole, of a dropsy heart that for a long time threatened him (...).
He expired in my arms as we got ready to go to the country side, on the 14th of June at 21 hours, (I) was not believing him to pass till the last minute, until he told me "Farewell, Totonno, I don’t see the light anymore". I took his wirst, which increased until it was dull, I put my lips on his, that were already cold and did not answer to my kisses anymore, and so I convinced myself he was no more [alive]. (...) If the plague won't rejoin me to him immediately, my well-being will never rise again from this blow"
Couple things to note:
Totonno is a nickname of the name Antonio,
Leopardi died while the cholera was raging in Naples. This means everybody who died- wheter it was the cholera or not- was dumped in mass graves. Ranieri could not stand by that and fought to give Leopardi a proper burial, retrieving his body and giving him the honor and love he deserved until the very end. So is said in a letter Ranieri sent to Leopardi's father, Monaldo:
Ranieri, Naples, 26 June, 1837
"It's with immense strain I write again after twelve days of the most desperate stupor and pain together, of the manitude which a mortal was never oppresed with before. Briefly it would've been seven years that, since I came back from France and I found for my great fortune in Florence, not a day or night I left your eandearing Giacomo's side (...) I have little left to fear on earth, and only one I have to hope, that God may soon rejoin me to my beloved friend: and one thing only disheartens me in the horrendous tragedy I find myself in, that I'll die [as it's fit] of cholera, and my ashes won't rest, as it was my eternal wish, next to his! (...).
Viktor really meant the "in all timelines, in all possibilities" line BECAUSE IT'S OUR TIMELINE TOO! THEY EXISTED!
Please take a moment and let me introduce you to: Giacomo Leopardi and Antonio Ranieri's partnership.
Leopardi was an italian poet, author, philosopher and philologist. He is an important figure in Romantic literature (albeit, he did criticize the Romantic worldviews).
All throughout his life he suffered from a debilitating chronic illness (juvanile ankylosing spondylitis) that had him suffer horrendously from a young age, until it eventually took his life in 1837, when he was 39 years old.
He dedicated most of his life to studies, translating old tomes, writing poems and treaties diverting on humanity's degeneration from our glorious past to our suffering present. He exhorted modern folks to take action against the unjust present, aiming to a revolution of our pitiful condition.
In 1827 Leopardi meets Antonio Ranieri a young man that is described (verbatim) as a "very young and handsome in person and spirit".
Ranieri had been exiled from his city during his youth, because of his excessively liberal views in regards to politics.
The two become very close friends, but it's in 1830 that their "partnership" (literally, not making this up, Ranieri himself wrote a book about it if you care to check it out "Seven years of partnership with Giacomo Leopardi") starts. They move together from Firenze to Naples and Ranieri attends to Leopardi's every wish (noted that this man was a fanatic for sweets) paying with money from his own pocket.
Now, friendship at the time was different than what it is now, and they might’ve been very close friends, yes. But I'll give you some words from their letters and what Ranieri wrote down in his book and leave it to your judgment.
-----------------------------------------------------
Ranieri, Naples, 1833:
"I- left my own bed- used to sleep in a room that was not mine (scandalous at the time) to sleep by his side"
Leopardi, Florence, 1832-33, from when they got separated because Ranieri needed to tend to some family issues:
"My Ranieri, you will never abandon my side, nor will your love for me grow colder. I don't wish for you to sacrifice yourself for me. In fact, before anything else, I strongly wish for you to take care of yourself first: whatever you choose to do, you will do it so because we live for one another, or I know that I do for you; my last and only hope. Farewell, my soul. I keep you close to my heart, which in both possible and impossible occurrences, will forever be yours"
Leopardi, Florence, 1832-33, on someone making a joke out of Ranieri for staying by Leopardi's side:
" [...] Oh, my Ranieri! When will I get you back? I won't stop trambling until I'll recover this immeasurable love, until I know it's true. Farewell, my soul, with all my spirit's strength. Don't get bored of loving me"
And more:
"Ranieri of mine, I need not say that in every way you wish, I will be there with you (...). My resolution has been so for a great time now: that I will never be parted from you. Farewell"
In 1833, Ranieri sends a letter where he says he intends to set off to get Leopardi and go live together in Naples, to which Leopardi answers:
"My Ranieri, will this [letter] reach you in Naples still? I must warn you, I cannot live without you no longer, I'm overtaken by a morbid impatience to see you again, and that I am sure that if you will be late, I will die from the malencholy of not having you still. Farewell, Farewell"
Ranieri, on the landlady that took them in in Naples:
"She revealed this: that I had introduced a consumptive in the house: that, loving him so much as to stay up at night by his side, there could be no reason I could not do that as well in mine own house"
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So now, take it as you will- because maybe I am way too much of a nerd about this stuff- but I can't read ANYTHING Leopardi and Ranieri related without seeing Viktor and Jayce. I will gladely add more in the future.
--
Addition! If you want to watch/read on them (but mostly Leopardi, which is a catch) I STRONGLY advice you:
Leopardi. Il poeta dell'infinito - I don't personally love it but if you want more on them, thats the place
Il giovane favoloso - AMAZING movie
Canti - by Leopardi, it is a collection of poems he wrote and I think it is absolutely useful to understand his marvelous mind and character
Sette anni di Sodalizio con Giacomo Leopardi - the one I mentioned before, written by Ranieri on his time with Leopardi
#jayvik#jayce talis#viktor#giacomo leopardi#antonio ranieri#glorious evolution#I tried to make it readable so I hope it is#I love that they're getting the attention they deserve#I could write a thesis about this joke joke#thank you guys for the heads up
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From KorKor to GongGong.
JunHao couldn’t believe how far he’d fallen. Once, he had everything—a loving girlfriend, a thriving business, and a body that turned heads everywhere he went. Now, all of that was gone. The debt he owed the Chinese mafia hadn’t just taken his money or his livelihood. They had taken him.
It all started years ago when his business began to crumble. Desperate to stay afloat, he’d taken a loan from the wrong people. Rumors of the Chinese mafia’s brutal, unorthodox debt collection methods had been whispered around town, but JunHao never imagined he’d become one of their victims.
At 35, JunHao had been the epitome of masculinity. Years of waking up at dawn to lift weights in his makeshift gym-esque courtyard had sculpted his body into a oriental masterpiece. His biceps, thick and powerful, could split the sleeves of any shirt. His abs, chiseled and defined, were a testament to his discipline. And his manhood—well, his girlfriend used to blush just thinking about it. JunHao was proud of his natural endowment, which had always made him feel invincible, as if he were destined for greatness.
But that was before. Now, at 70 years old and trapped in a frail, withered body, he was a shadow of his former self.
Determined to confront the man who had taken everything from him, JunHao arrived at Mr. Chen’s opulent mansion. The doors were opened by two towering young men, their muscles bulging against their tailored suits. Their chiseled jaws and cocky smiles hinted at their borrowed origins. JunHao knew these weren’t their real bodies—probably stolen from aspiring athletes or struggling gym rats who couldn’t pay their dues.
The guards dragged JunHao through the mansion’s marble hallways, past walls adorned with priceless artwork. The air was thick with the scent of testosterone and power. Finally, they arrived at the courtyard.
And there he was—JunHao's old body, lounging in a hot tub like a god.
Mr. Chen, now inhabiting JunHao's former body, looked like a vision of strength and virility. His light, sculpted chest glistened with water, the ridges of his abs catching the sunlight. He grabbed his growing cock and let out a sexy, alpha groan. A black necklace with the Chinese Mafia's logo now rested against his broad chest. He oozed confidence, his powerful legs stretched out lazily as if he owned the world.
When he saw JunHao, his lips curled into a smug smile. “JunHao!” he boomed, his voice deep and commanding—JunHao's voice. “Come to admire your handiwork?”
JunHao's heart twisted in his chest. Hearing his voice come from someone else, especially someone who was desecrating everything he’d worked for, was unbearable.
Mr. Chen stood, water cascading down his muscular frame. He flexed his biceps, their size seemingly even more pronounced than when JunHao had owned them. “This body,” Mr. Chen said, running his hands over his chest and abs, “is a masterpiece. A gift from you to me.”
He laughed, grabbing his stiffening crotch with an audacious smirk. “And this? This is a real treasure. Your little secret, huh? What they say about Chinese people, isn't true apparently. Don’t worry, I’m putting it to good use now. Let’s just say it’s… thriving in the right hands.”
JunHao's face burned with shame. He’d always been proud of his virility, his ability to satisfy his girlfriend and leave her breathless. Now, Mr. Chen was flaunting it like a trophy, using it in ways that made JunHao's stomach churn.
Mr. Chen stepped out of the hot tub, water dripping down his thick thighs. “You know, JunHao, I’ve never felt more alive. This body—it’s a machine. The stamina, the strength… And let’s not even get started on the bedroom. Let’s just say the boys can’t get enough.”
He flexed again, this time making a show of clenching his pecs. “I don’t know how you kept this gem hidden for so long. If I’d known what you were packing, I’d have taken it sooner.”
JunHao couldn’t take it anymore. He dropped to his knees, his frail body trembling. “Please,” he begged. “I want my body back. I’ll do anything.”
Mr. Chen chuckled, the sound rich and mocking. “Anything, you say?” He gestured for one of his guards to get him another bottle of beer. Taking a long sip, he let some spill down his chest, then wiped it off with a slow, deliberate motion. “You couldn’t handle this body anymore, old man. Look at you—pathetic.”
He stepped closer, towering over JunHao. “But I’ll tell you what,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “I’m feeling generous. I’ll give you a new body—not this one, of course. This beauty is staying right where it is. But I can get you something… better than the sack of bones you’re in now. A younger body. Maybe even a little attractive.”
JunHao's heart leapt. “You’d do that?”
“Sure,” Mr. Chen said with a grin taking of his sunglasses seductively. “On one condition.”
JunHao's hope faltered. “What condition?”
“You’ll become my personal servant,” Mr. Chen said, leaning in close. “Every day, you’ll oil this body, shave this chest, and make sure it looks its best. You will also be my own personal cum dump. You should know how virile I am now and my precious liquids aren't to be just spilled on the ground. You’ll clean my mansion, pour my drinks, and watch as I live the life you gave up. And maybe—maybe—I’ll consider giving you a slightly better body in return. A body that will please my sexual needs more.”
JunHao's stomach kept being churned. The thought of serving Mr. Chen, of watching him flaunt what was once his, let alone serving and pleasuring a body that was once his, was unbearable. Yet what choice did he have? To live the rest of his days as an old, broken man was equally unthinkable.
“So,” Mr. Chen said, flexing his biceps one more time for emphasis. “What’s it gonna be, JunHao? Serve me, or rot in that pathetic shell of yours?”
JunHao looked up at his former body, now radiating power and confidence, and felt his world closing in.
"Okay."
#asiantransformations#asianmuscle#racialtransformations#asianbodybuilder#asiantoasian#buff asian#buffasian#bodyswap#male possession#chinesemafia
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I don't think of the ending of Conclave as a separate, tacked on twist. I see it as the natural culmination of the themes and theological argument of the story. For me, it went along with the reminders of women's subordinated status throughout and the necessity of Sister Agnes for the Spirit to move - what are these hard lines used to limit and demean people? The work of men, not God. In God's eyes, "There is neither... slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one" (Gal 3:28).
What are these supposedly bright lines by which we decide who is worth more than another? Where are they located exactly? Chromosomes? Certain tissues of the body shaped in a particular way? In the mind? Where? Do they truly make sense when we look at the sheer diversity of "God's creation"? Is this a world of simple dichotomies or is that what we humans crave and impose?
Lawrence seeks after the divine, which doesn't actually fit neat human labels, and saw it in someone. In seeing it, he was challenged to expand his understanding. Benitez is, like all people according to Lawrence's beliefs, made in the image of God. Is he willing to perceive something of God he's not comfortable with?
For Lawrence, it's about having the grace to be able to love beyond those limits. He truly wants something beyond him to come down and touch him. He reminds me of this one poem: "I want heaven to descend and sit on My dinner plate / and so do you./ I want God to put His steaming arms around Me / and so do you" (Anne Sexton, "Jesus Dies"). But when heaven descends and sits on your dinner plate, it is not, cannot be, an easy experience. It challenges him.
Before him is an image of God in a shape and life history he has not been taught to recognize or understand. But he will try to love and move with this impossibility, beyond his fear and confusion. It's an act of humility over the sin of certainty - instead of telling another human being (the image of God!) you should take X shape, you should make Y kind of sense, and if you don't I'll hurt you -- he opens his heart. He loves this person and he loves God too, who came down and refused to be simple or easy. "Whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen" (1 John 4:20).
From a more universal pov: what is all the horror and domination and death we see around us but a violent and twisted refusal to see ourselves as one - part of the same biosphere, part of each other? What is the bigotry we see capturing so many minds but a refusal to see each other--in religious or humanist terms--as *sacred* parts of something beautiful - nature or the divine or both? Powerful men seek to dismember humanity and the planet to deny "you are all one". Ordinary bigots look at the sacred in another person and, if that person doesn't take the precise shape that they want, they try to hurt and destroy them instead of expanding their understanding.
The final "twist" is a deep, spiritual and philosophical repudiation of that. The whole story was something I needed, but particularly that. We can embrace the light in each other, without trying to control or dim it. We can have the courage to love beyond our understanding and find grace in that. To let our sense of the sacred, in whatever forms that takes, speak to us instead of trying to make it the instrument of our own ego.
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we tried the world, good god, it wasn't for us! (part 5.2)
pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader
word count: 10.4k (relatively mild if i do say so myself)
summary: "suguru won't hurt me."
tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, canon-typical violence, the blood and gore associated with jjk, introducing the shitty and creepy zen'in clan, it's ANGST, like hurt/no comfort level here
beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @lexlibrary
author note: PREMATURE DEATH ARC BABY, this is gonna fucking HURT. also i've got a cute lil' banner that i made that i'm trying to use to create a story masterpost but old lady is having issues formatting on shitty tumblr. stay tuned for new looks hopefully.
chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4.1, 4.2, 5.1, AO3
[YEAR THREE]
[PART TWO]
“You look tired, Senpai.”
The voice that breaks the silence of dawn is such a shock that the speed in which you snap your head up and to the side puts a crick in your neck. “Yu?” You subtly clutch at your neck, digging your fingers into the sore spot but feigning rubbing it as to not insult him because you expected Kento to be here, not him. “What has you up so early? You don’t train until a little later, don’t you?”
He blinks owlishly. “You really pay attention to the small things, it’s amazing.”
“Oh. Just like drawing and cursed spirits are my thing, I know martial arts are yours. You’re my friend and I try to remember the things they love.”
Yu perks up, grinning brightly. The morning light is still soft, but you could use your sunglasses right about now when it comes to Yu’s thousand-watt smile. “We’re friends, Senpai?”
“I’d like to think so. You let me use your given name.” You hesitate, suddenly struck by self-consciousness. “Am I wrong?”
“No! I mean, if you consider me a friend then I consider you one, too! I just didn’t want to assume. Who doesn’t dream of being friends with their cool upperclassmen?”
You chuckle softly. “Isn’t Suguru the cool one?”
“You’re cool, too!” You raise a skeptical brow. He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “Okay, Geto is cooler, but you’re the nicest! Don’t tell Ieiri, though, please!” You won’t betray your junior like that, but Shoko definitely would probably appreciate that assessment. “I’d love to be casual enough with everyone to be on given name basis.”
“You definitely could. Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko don’t care about that kind of thing. If they were easily offended, they wouldn’t stick around people as rude as Satoru and I are,” you explain with a little smile.
He drops down next to you on the bench, looking thoughtful. “Maybe when Nanamin and I graduate, I’ll feel comfortable enough to be that familiar with them.” He sighs too loudly to not be dramatic. “I was worried about taking over for Nanamin on this because I know they can look down on people with no sorcery in their family, but I don’t know why I was. I swear that your power works on humans, too. You’re so calming, y’know?”
It was meant to be a joke, you know, but there’s still a brief moment of pure panic. You haven’t been doing that, have you? It’s a question you ask yourself before quickly answering with a resolute no. Definitely not. Just trying to sense someone’s emotions, as unintentional as it was with Satoru, had you struggling. Controlling someone against their will had you on the verge of death with a brain bleed. You’re terrified by how fast your technique is evolving, yes, but it’s not there. Nowhere near there. You doubt it will ever be to the point where you’re passively influencing people.
“I just want to do my best to help,” you confess. Even if it feels like you’re not doing much of that these days.
“So do I!” Yu declares so enthusiastically and loudly that it echoes. He winces at his own volume and flushes. “Sorry,” he quickly apologizes, but you wave it off. You’re used to loud voices because of Satoru. “But y’know, you ignored me when I said that you look really tired.”
Well, you didn’t mean to, but you’re uncomfortable that he’s bringing it back up. “Don’t worry about me. I haven’t been sleeping the greatest, but I’ll be fine.”
“Hmm, are you sure about that?” Suddenly, he becomes uncharacteristically serious. “I know this is hard work. We see the worst of the world. You and me, we understand that our friends can get lost in all that darkness, so we try to stay bright for them. But we can’t do that if we don’t take care of ourselves.” He smiles, then. Softly and fondly. “My mom understood that when I said I wanted to enroll in school here. She wants to hear about my day, no matter how bad what I see is. She wants to help me carry the burden.”
“It’s hard to believe there are non-sorcerer parents who believe in cursed spirits,” you mumble more to yourself than him. “You have an amazing mother, Yu. I’m jealous.”
He preens, as he should. “My dad listens, too!” He blinks, laughs nervously, and then tries to humble himself quickly after. “It took them a while to accept it, though. But when both your children can see these invisible things, it becomes a little harder to deny. I think they still were kinda in denial until Sensei came and confirmed it all.”
“Still…the fact that they’re willing to hear the details…”
“My mom told me that she tells herself that it’s like I’m going to school to become a medical examiner. Eh, my dad was a real delinquent in high school before he got his act together. He was in a gang. It’s not as bad as what I see, but he can handle the nastier things that I can’t hold in anymore.”
As the manager pulls up to the curb, here to pick you both up for the trip to the Zen’in compound, Yu passes you one of the three onigiri he brought with him. He stands up, interrupting your incoming protest, and grins down at you. “Don’t worry! I know you forget to eat in the mornings a lot, so I made an extra! Just like I know you’re tired but won’t lean on my shoulder unless I say it’s okay!”
One day, you hope that you can meet Yu’s parents, only to tell them how great a job they did in raising a son.
As you’ve come to learn about these long-established clans, they meet you with open hostility. To them, you are not only an outsider, but an extension of headquarters’ will. Despite the fact that there is a Kamo and Zen’in on the council, they are bound by Tengen’s authority. Gakuganji confirmed, after reprimanding you on your manners with the Kamo, that Tengen was the one who wanted to test your abilities. At some point, when you’re done with the Zen’in, he’ll want to meet with you. It’s a terrifying prospect.
Anyway, the leader of the Zen’in clan is not the higher-up that you’d been speaking with. The man that briefly shows his face to you and Yu is graying, has an insanely weirdly styled mustache, and holds a gourd while stinking of alcohol. He passes out as soon as he sprawls out across from you two. Yu is the one to go try and find someone to talk to since the leader—Naobito, the manager told you—is snoring away.
Two people soon walk into the room, followed by Yu. You’ve never seen Yu have to force a smile before, but there’s a first time for everything. You’ve always been under the belief that Yu is an excellent judge of character, so when he finds it hard to like someone, your hackles are immediately raised. Then again, the horror stories that you’ve heard about this clan, you didn’t really need Yu’s opinion, anyway.
A middle-aged man briefly glances at Naobito with a disgusted curl of the lip before turning his terrifying gaze on you. The sclera of his eyes is pitch black. You refuse to even try to make eye contact. They’d probably appreciate that, anyway, since they think a woman’s place is beneath a man. The other person with him is someone that’s actually close to your age. His hair is dyed blonde at the top of his head while his roots are a dark, dark green.
“I am Zen’in Ogi, younger brother of Naobito,” the older man introduces with no small amount of loathing. “Naoya—”
The one that’s your age—Naoya—hasn’t stopped moving toward you. When he’s directly in front of you, he tilts his head to the side, scrutinizing you. “You should smile more.”
You tilt to the side, focusing on Ogi. “Thank you for hosting us.”
“Oi.” Naoya nudges you with his tabi. It takes everything in you not to lash out or flinch away. You know a bully when you see one and they revel in seeing that their antics are affecting their target. “I’m next in line for head of the clan, y’know. You should be talking to me about this stuff.”
“You’re not of age yet.” You are a child, you’re silently saying. This is an assumption, of course, but Satoru did mention there being someone in the Zen’in clan that bothers him at the annual Big Three meetup. It’s supposedly to keep the peace, but it’s just a way to show off the next generation’s strength, Satoru says. A pissing contest. “You’re more than welcome to sit and listen as I speak with Mister Ogi.”
“You don’t need to be such a bitch,” Naoya scolds haughtily. “Especially when I’ll be the one escorting you around.”
You haven’t looked away from Ogi. You watch his cheek twitch, as if he’s holding back from laughing. Clan dynamics are just so…odd. To enjoy the embarrassment of another simply because you’re not next in line. Maybe you should’ve simply smiled and played along because Ogi will probably stick Naoya with you to keep up the flustering of his nephew.
Trying to dodge a day with this spoiled brat, you politely inform Ogi, “I would be more than happy to wait if you’re both too busy.”
“Seeing as Naobito is…indisposed—” is that what they’re calling being blackout drunk? “We have nothing pressing anymore, so Naoya can see to you. It would do him good to revisit our cursed object collection seeing as it’ll be his to worry about when he’s clan head.” Ogi pulls something out of his yukata. A key. “Naoya, keep them away from the Disciplinary Pit. You’re responsible for their safety. We can’t have any incidents potentially impacting our seat at headquarters.”
Naoya scoffs unhappily.
It might be the only time that you’ll ever agree with this brat.
Zen’in Naoya is insistent on pestering you.
To your great misfortune, no one educated Naoya on the purpose of your visit. So, he uses that as an opening to throw question after question at you while peppering in his annoying commentary. As much as you care for Yu, if he asks to go to lunch after this, you might actually cry. You’ve been here a little over an hour and have a headache. You’re teetering on the verge of losing your temper and getting yourself in trouble.
“Why are a couple of students here, anyway?”
“To examine the seals of your cursed objects and strengthen them if they’re too weak.”
“What? Are you training to be one of those managers or whatever?” Naoya laughs obnoxiously. “Gross.”
“I’m a sorcerer,” you correct.
“One of the strongest at school!” Yu adds on your behalf.
Naoya, in front of you both as he leads you across the compound, glances over his shoulder to eye you skeptically. If their clan looks down so harshly on women, it wouldn’t be that far a stretch to assume that he doesn’t think your capable of strength. “What kind of technique do you have?”
“Pacification and control, to an extent,” you answer.
He raises a brow. “Like that Geto guy that got assigned Special Grade with Gojo?”
The mention of Satoru and Suguru makes you bristle, of course. It’s a protective instinct, you guess. “No. I can hide myself from cursed spirits. I keep them calm. If they’re weak enough, I can suggest things to them.” Before he can ask, you go ahead and answer what you expect his next question will be. “Headquarters considers me an expert on cursed spirits. They thought it would be beneficial for me to also learn about seals. I’m here on their orders.”
“Sounds like you’re a knockoff of that Geto kid, then.”
The jab has you gritting your teeth.
You have to admit, that’s a new insult. People have accused you of holding him back, being an annoying burr in his side that just won’t leave. No one has ever said that you’re a weaker version of him, though. You’re not sure why it’s slowly starting to get under your skin. Maybe it’s an insult to your usefulness—something that you’re already incredibly insecure about. And you hate that you’re genuinely thinking about this now.
“Are we almost there?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Naoya is, blessedly, silent for the rest of the trek. You reach the end of the dark staircase that you assumed was to take you underground. It’s a large stone chamber with tile flooring. As soon as you step fully into the room, a massive wave of cursed energy washes over you. Yu freezes, breath hitching, eyes widening. It’s not that intimidating, is it? There’s quite the number of spirits somewhere down here, yes, but they’re all Grade 2 or lower.
You’re honestly more irritated than anything by the sheer arrogance and stupidity of this clan. “You have cursed objects…near all these cursed spirits?” The chamber diverges. Ahead, there is a giant room that has ropes across the opening. Ropes, you note, that have weak seals attached to them.
Naoya waves you off. “They won’t break through that seal.”
“Having cursed objects so close only makes them more agitated,” you educate, though you know that he’s probably already aware of that fact. “The more agitated they are, the more they batter against that barrier and weaken it. Why do you even have spirits on your compound?”
He sticks a finger in his ear, as if your nagging is nothing but an itch in his ear. “Didn’t you hear my uncle? It’s a pit for training and discipline. We like agitating them, obviously. That makes the pit more effective.”
The Kamo and Gojo had their own collection of spirits. Most people from the clans aren’t like Satoru. Homeschooling in Japan isn’t allowed until high school, so there’s a special private school that’s in the know of jujutsu and works with the headquarters and the government. That school in Kyoto is where most children of the clans go until high school where they head back to their clans to be trained intensely.
Still, the spirits that the Kamo and Gojo had weren’t nearly as strong. Satoru said that the people in his clan go out in the field to find the strong spirits because they understand that there are vulnerable people on their compounds. How they feel about those vulnerable people might horrify you, but they aren’t actively putting the lives of everyone in their compounds in danger every single second like the Zen’in clan is.
What the hell is wrong with these people?
“I’ll be reinforcing those seals, too,” you force out through gritted teeth.
Naoya simply shrugs before heading in the opposite direction of the pit where there’s a hall. At the end of it is a massive door, a bunch of seals lining the door that’s locked with a basic chain and padlock. Is jujutsu society built on nothing but a crumbling infrastructure? Are they all so arrogant and complacent that they assume it’ll all be fine until it’s just not anymore? Then again, why wouldn’t they be when they have bodies to throw at their problems?
What are you even doing here anymore?
Increasingly more and more, you wonder what would’ve happened to you if you stayed behind in the village. Who knows how long you’d be under the thumb of your overprotective yet distant mother and bitter father. You’d fumble your way through some job in the town or a nearby one, too poor for college and probably getting talked out of it by your mother, anyway. Which would be a better life? It seems like both paths leads to you being a simple cog in a broken machine.
“Here, Senpai,” Yu whispers as he passes you the cage with the fly heads. “I think it might be better for me to wait outside.”
“No.” You glare at Naoya. “It’s safer to be in here.”
Naoya rolls his eyes. “Calm down. It’s not that big a deal. Besides, if you were a competent sorcerer, you could easily handle all those spirits by yourself.”
“Would you like to keep watch, then?”
He sniffs. “No thanks. I want to see what you can do.”
“I work better in silence.”
Naoya smiles beatifically. “I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”
Seeing as this is his home, there’s nothing you can do about his presence. This is seriously throwing off the routine you’ve created with this assignment which only aggravates you further. But you move your focus to watching the fly heads, gauging their reactions as you walk amongst the shelves, holding the cage to each object. You’re even irritated with the fly heads, impatient at their slow reaction times when you already know which seals are weakest.
Naoya, shockingly, is relatively quiet. But, because he’s insistent on being a pest, he hangs over your shoulder. Yu is a good friend, knowing how you work, and stands back by the door. There aren’t many objects that require a fresh seal—less than the Kamo and Gojo which is as much credit as you’ll give this clan. If you had to guess as to why that is, they have more people in their clan so there are more people to assign this task. After all, this is a super traditional clan that believes in…sowing their oats as much as humanly possible.
The biggest task today will be that rope along the pit. If you’re honest, you want to be stubborn and ignore it. You don’t want to fuel this barbaric practice. If you don’t, though, the seal will continue to degrade. Your pettiness could cost many lives if these spirits ever escaped. You could leave it to the clan. Write a scathing review of what you saw. You doubt the higher-ups will do much about it, though. The Zen’in would probably call it an exercise and just let it break.
“Mind if I give you a piece of advice?” Naoya drawls as you’re scribbling some notes for your final report to hand in to the higher-ups. You ignore him because he’ll give you his advice whether you want it or not. Some people just love the sound of their own voice. “If you want a man, you need to smile more.” You pointedly deepen your frown. Yu hides his laugh behind a cough. Naoya flushes in chagrin. “What’s your problem with me, huh? I’m trying to give you advice.”
“Marriage is not a priority for me. I’m too young for that.”
“Oh, c’mon. Marriage is the only thing normal girls are thinking about for all their lives.”
“Yes, because sorcerers are such normal people.” You can’t help the sarcasm now. Your patience has finally been pushed to the limit. “So, again, that is not a priority for me right now or in the foreseeable future.”
He hums. “Maybe you should think harder about it. You never know when an offer for marriage might come your way. You’re sort of plain, sure, and you definitely have no pedigree. Still, you have a decent ability. Like I said, Geto Suguru knockoff. Our clan is always looking for fresh talent to be passed along to the next generation when it comes to women.”
The thought of marrying into this clan makes you gag. You do it right in front of Naoya’s face, unable to control yourself, and he sputters in outrage. Yu immediately leaps into action, putting himself between you and Naoya.
With his back to you, he faces Naoya with squared shoulders and a voice that’s low and dangerous. “Stop criticizing my senpai.”
Naoya’s feet spread slightly, as if preparing to take a battle stance. “Oh? What are you gonna do about it, peasant?” Peasant? A lame insult. Are you in the Heian era or what? “You look like you’ve got nothing going on in that head of yours, so let me lay it out for you and your senpai in simple terms. It’s the highest honor to even be a consideration in the running of the next Zen’in clan head’s wife.”
Him? Naoya was suggesting a proposal from him? Oh, you feel nauseous. You feel so disturbed that the fly heads fluttering around in the cage come to a dead stop and watch you intently, having been unintentionally put under your influence. Right. So, you should calm down. Seems like an enormous task at the moment. Just a little longer, you desperately remind yourself. You’ll say your piece to Naoya and move on.
You gently nudge Yu out of the way so that Naoya can see the radiance and superiority in your smile. Suguru would be proud if he saw it. “I was under the impression that the jujutsu world prized strength above all else. Was that wrong?” You tilt your head, mocking in your curiosity. “There would be more honor in being Gojo Satoru’s whore than there would ever be in becoming the wife of a Zen’in.”
It has the desired effect. You imagine that heads and heirs of the Kamo and Zen’in clans have quite the complex when it comes to Satoru who, for all intents and purposes, carries the Gojo clan on his back. One could argue the entire jujutsu world, but that’s a conversation for another time.
Naoya, with his face red and twisted into an ugly snarl and ears practically blowing steam, is interrupted before he can start throwing a temper tantrum.
A scream.
No, two of them.
Both you and Yu are on the move immediately, leaving behind Naoya’s shouted, “Oi!”
There are children down here. Two little girls from the sound of it. You can hear them begging for their father. Even worse, they must be non-sorcerer children because you only feel the muted presence of all those cursed spirits in the pit, Yu, Naoya, and someone else. It’s that man, Ogi. Thank goodness that someone has a heart or some sense, at least. He must be coming to get the children that ran down here. You’ll still rush to help, of course. You can calm the spirits down—
As you break away from the hallway, the horror of what you see sends you to a screeching halt. Yu gasps, visibly shaken and outraged at the same time. Because, ahead of you, is Ogi, yes. But he is not helping the two little girls who slipped down here, no, no. He has each one tucked under his arm, overpowering the twin girls’ frantic struggles to get away from the fucking pit with cursed spirits. They’re screaming and begging for their father…to stop from doing what he’s about to do.
“Stop!” Yu screeches, angrier than you have ever seen him before. Then, ruder than you’ve ever heard him be, he goes on to ask, “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you senile geezer?!”
Ogi doesn’t hesitate. Not even a bit. As soon as he’s at the top of the staircase that leads down to the pit, he roughly tosses both the twins down it, right into the belly of the beast. You move, as deadly serious at the older man, dead set on getting those little girls out of there. Ogi turns to face you, hand reaching for the handle of his katana.
“Stand down,” he barks. “These are my children, and I’ll punish them as I see fit.” He actually takes a stance. Prepared to cut you and Yu down to continue this cruel abuse disguised as parenting. “Strangers will not be allowed to interfere in clan business. The higher-ups won’t protect you.”
You think when you heard my children, that’s when you snapped. It’s a moment of immense pressure in your skull, of ringing in your ears, of blood slipping down from your nose across the cupid’s bow of your top lip. Maybe the reason that you don’t pass out immediately is because it’s only to make Ogi misstep when he swings his katana at you. It smacks against the tile, the sound reverberating, and you sidestep him to rush into the pit.
It’s too late.
Or maybe you spent too much mental energy on making Ogi stop that you don’t have enough time to reattune your focus to quell the cursed spirits in the pit. The weaker spirits hesitate, but there’s one—Grade 2, bordering on Grade 1. It raises an arm, claws poised to slash. Only one of the girls reacts, throwing herself in front of her sister that’s looking around wildly because she must not be able to see the spirits that her sister has barely enough cursed energy to do.
Again, it’s too late to stop the blow, but you make it in time to be the one to take it. You leap at the girls, blanketing their small bodies with yours just as the claws come down. It burns. It burns. And the only reason that you’re conscious, that you’re alive is because Yu was right behind you and managed to knock the spirit off balance enough to weaken the blow.
Your body, uncaring of limits when it’s now on the brink of death, finds the energy to send a surge of cursed energy throughout the room. Every single spirit, even the one with blood dripping from its claws, is lulled to stillness by your pacification. Kill yourself, your body screams.
“Cover…” Your nails scrape against the tile before you clench your fists. “Cover…your…your ears,” you shakily demand of the girl that can see the cursed spirits.
Children shouldn’t have to hear the gore that’s about to ensue.
Slowly, you float back to consciousness while wondering when you even passed out.
You’re kind of surprised that you’re even awake right now. Because you’re sprawled out on your belly on a futon, naked down to your waist but not all that exposed since bandages are wrapped all around your upper torso. Your stomach and breasts are sore, an indication that you’ve been in this position for a long time now. Still, as uncaring about your comfort as they were, the Zen’in didn’t let you die.
Ha. So much for that old man’s warning that you wouldn’t be protected.
Then again, maybe the Zen’in don’t want to deal with the rage of Gojo Satoru.
Speaking of rage…
“Suguru,” you hoarsely call out to the dark presence that you sense looming in the corner of the room. Just a tilt to the side has pain racing across your body, so you can’t turn to see where he’s at, but you feel him. His cursed energy is burning. “Stop with that. You’ll scare everyone.”
“It’s the least they deserve,” Suguru spits.
With how furious he feels and sounds, you expect him to stay where he is. Brooding. But he doesn’t. You hear the shift of fabric before the soft padding of his feet against the tatami. He does look the picture of rage with his eyes, burning bright. His jaw is clenched, along with his fists that he puts on his thighs when he kneels down next to you. If someone other than you were here, it might be intimidating.
It is you, though, and it’s all undermined with Tamamo-no-Mae floating behind him. Her cursed energy is familiar, almost like a comfort now. He’s had her since that field trip to Osorezan. When one of her fox tails flops down from underneath her jūnihitoe, she strokes your cheek with it, and you giggle. And, like always, fox hair gets in your mouth.
“Put her away. Her toes gross me out,” you breathe out, trying to bring some levity to the situation before you start trying to spit out the fox hair without moving your hand. You think it’ll hurt too much to move your arms. “I can’t believe you pulled out a Special Grade for the Zen’in.”
“I don’t trust them.” Finally, his expression softens when his gaze drops down to you. He reaches down to put his hand on the side of your face. “How are you?”
“Hurts,” you admit.
“I know,” he croons sympathetically as he strokes your cheek. “Of all the times for Shoko to be away,” he sighs. “She won’t be here until the day after tomorrow. Satoru threatened to end the mission early, but Shoko talked him out of it. She spoke with the Zen’in that treated you. If you had a brain bleed, you’d already be dead. I sent her some photos of your back, too. You’ll be okay to wait. There’s just going to be scarring.”
“As if I care about that,” you mumble tiredly as your eyes slip close. “Can we go home?”
“Of course.” Suguru hunches over to press a kiss against your forehead. You don’t have it in you to be shy. “I’ll try not to have the spirit move you too much, but I’m sorry in advanced if it hurts you.”
“‘s okay. Sorry for the trouble.”
“Rest now.”
Somehow, you manage not to cry from the pain, but it’s a definite struggle. The worst part is when you arrive at the barrier around campus and Suguru has to carry you in his arms from there. Thankfully, the barrier is right at the top of the staircase, so you’re not jostled as much on the back of a manta ray as you would’ve been if Suguru carried you all the way up them. By the time he makes it to your room, though, your stitches have re-opened.
“You’re going to take a shower with me?” Now you have a little more mental energy to feel flustered.
Suguru is kneeled down in front of you, having carried you to the locker room where he’s now slipping your shoes off. “I know you. The blood dried on your back is bothering you, isn’t it? You’re not going to be able to sleep with it on your skin.” You look away, trying not to pout because he’s totally right and you kind of hate it. Above all else, it makes you feel special, but you also hate it. “We’ve had sex before,” he reminds you. “If you’re really uncomfortable with it then we can wait for Shoko.”
“No, I don’t want to wait for her.” Your cheeks puff out, so, yeah, you’re definitely pouting now. “I…us showering together…it doesn’t bother me that much. It’s just…I hate putting you out. You…you don’t have to dote on me like…this…” You motion to where his hands are curled around the waistband of your leggings. Despite your protest, you still lift your hips up to let him slide your leggings off. “I bet you didn’t do this with Satoru.”
“I did take care of him as much as he’d let me, actually.” Oh. “And I washed his back, too.” Suguru chuckles softly. “In all our years together, has it ever crossed your mind that I like taking care of you?”
No, honestly. That thought has never crossed your mind. “Help me undress,” you mumble embarrassedly. “Jeez, you didn’t need to lay it on so thick. I get it, I get it.”
“It’s cute when you get all shy,” he teases. “You act exactly like Satoru did.”
“Guess you have a type then,” you grouse.
He laughs at that. An actual laugh. And his face is soft, welcoming. “I guess I do, don’t I?”
Suguru had the hindsight to put you in his blazer before you left the Zen’in compound. It’s easy to take off without aggravating your stitches further. But there’s no stopping the sting of the water hitting the slashes across your back. Suguru rubs your shoulder soothingly as you try to force your body to relax. Everything is sore. The antiseptic meant to numb the area that the Zen’in medic was magnanimous enough to give you has faded. You duck your head, focusing on the water at your feet that slowly bleeds to pink to try and forget the pain.
Gently, Suguru starts to wash your back, exactly like he said he would. There’s no getting around the fact that the cloth will brush against your tender stitches. You grit your teeth in preparation and clutch at his hand still on your shoulder. As he gets to work, he starts up a conversation because he understands that keeping your mind off things will help.
“Will you tell me what happened?”
“Yu didn’t say?”
“No. Sensei pulled him in to talk with Gakuganji and some of the Zen’in. I think they went back to school ahead of us. The clans can pretend they’re better than the rest of us, but they still answer to headquarters. So, there might be some trouble for the Zen’in since you were technically there on orders.”
“Good.” He hums in question at your scathing remark. “They have a pit, you know. It’s filled with cursed spirits. The one that hurt me was nearly a Grade 1. They call it the Disciplinary Pit. I knew they were traditional but that…that’s barbaric.” The other hand that isn’t clutching Suguru is balled into a fist at your side. “And what was that old bastard going to do? He was going to throw children in there. They couldn’t have been more than…I don’t know. Six? And…and they were non-sorcerers!”
Suguru’s hand stops suddenly. The one gripping your shoulder goes unbearably tight. Against your back, you feel the other curl into a ball. “Non-sorcerers did this to you?”
Your brows furrow. Putting the pain aside, you look over your shoulder, utterly confused about where he got that idea from. “Did you space out just now or…?” Why does he look almost as angry as he did in the Zen’in compound? “Are you okay?” Why do you feel so…uneasy right now? “I said that old man—”
“Were those his children?”
“Yes? I don’t know what that has to do with anything, though. Did you not hear me when I said the pit was full of cursed spirits?”
“I heard, but…” He takes a deep breath, exhales, in that way he does when he’s trying to quell his temper. “Are you sure you didn’t overreact? I doubt he would’ve let them get hurt. You’re making it sound like he was just disciplining his children—”
“Overreacting,” you repeat blankly.
He sighs your name, irritated again. “Stop it. I can already tell you’re taking it the wrong way. We know how you are—”
Slowly, you force Suguru’s hand away from your shoulder, continuing to stare at him like he’s grown another head. He may as well have. You turn around, hoping that he’ll backtrack in the time it takes you to face him, but he seems to mentally double down because he squares his jaw when your eyes meet his. There’s…an energy festering around him. You don’t like it. It’s so angry.
But you are as equally angry, so you don’t try to appease him. You don’t try to calm things down. Instead, you lash out, seeking to antagonize. “Am I speaking a different language right now?”
Suguru picks up on your hostility, his own hackles raising once again. “You acted rashly. You almost died…and for what? Did you even ask what they did?”
This conversation has been slipping under your skin, touching a nerve that makes it hard to ignore. You don’t understand why until you unthinkingly snap, “Should I have asked your parents what you did before I went to the teachers about your bruises?”
He barks out a laugh. Dark. Nasty. Bitter. “Maybe you should have. Maybe then my arm wouldn’t have gotten broken because of you.”
The words are worse than a gut punch. Worse than how it felt when that curse’s claws sunk into your skin. You knew. In the back of your mind, logically, you knew that the social worker was called because of you and the broken arm he showed up at school with was because of you, too. But…the hurt of him saying that is so visceral.
Still, you must not look hurt enough because Suguru keeps going. “Are you ever going to stop and think before trying to help someone? Haven’t you hurt enough people?”
Dread, ice cold, rushes through your veins, dousing the fire of anger. You’re panicked by the things welling up inside the center of your chest. You blurt, “Leave.”
Suguru shakes his head. He sighs, the edge leaving his features. How dare he look so sympathetic. Like…like he pities you for not having figured this truth out sooner. Just more salt rubbed on this wound he dealt. For a moment, you’re reminded of your mother and the pity she has for her simple daughter. This is not your Suguru. Not anymore. You don’t know who this is and that scares you.
He reaches out a hand, whispering your name, but you flinch away.
“Leave!”
The order is screeched so loud that your voice cracks. It’s a volume that you didn’t think yourself capable of, let alone Suguru having heard out of you before. The noise startles him, and he jerks away. The two of you stare at each other, confused about the strangers you’ve become. You’re both shaken.
Suguru tries again, blinking the confusion away as he repeats your name and reaches out.
Trying to hide away from him, you try to cover yourself while backing away. You latch onto that demand because it’s all you can do. “Leave!” You don’t want him to see you collapse in on yourself. He won’t bring you peace. He’ll only make it worse. You scream again, “Leave!”
Scream and scream and scream…
Until, finally, looking like a wounded animal, he leaves.
It takes a long, long time for you to leave the shower room.
As unsanitary as it is, you’d sat down, butt ass naked, in the middle of the showers, sobbing and trying to calm yourself down. If you could, you’d have curled up right there and gone to sleep, but you gain enough comprehension back to know that would be a stupid idea as your emotions subside.
Still sensitive, still raw, you walk out to the locker room and see your clothes on the bench. The clothes that Suguru picked out for you. Along with the fresh bandages that he was planning to help you with. You’ll have to do that yourself now. Somehow. It pisses you off. Even when you throw the clothes to the floor in anger, you realize that you’re more upset at yourself than him. It isn’t his fault that you’re so helpless.
Halfway to your room, in nothing but your towel, you sense Yu’s cursed energy growing closer. You only have enough time to finish waddling to your room, slam the door behind you, and put on panties and shorts before he’s knocking on your door. The sound has you gritting your teeth in annoyance.
“Senpai,” he calls out through the door. His voice is alarmed. “Senpai, there’s blood on the floor!”
Damn it. “I just pulled at the stitches. It’s okay. I’ll handle it.”
“But…aren’t those stitches on your back? Can you reach them?”
“I’ll manage,” you snarl loudly.
On the other side of the door, there’s a pause. Your anger is getting misplaced. If you don’t calm down, you might lose a friend today. Maybe more than one. Who the fuck knows where you and Suguru stand right now. Fuck, you want to dig your teeth into something and tear. You should not be around another person anymore today.
“Okay! I’m coming in, so please cover up!” Yu warns. The doorknob rattles once before he realizes, “Um. Right. You might not be decent and probably need time to get dressed. Let me know when you’re ready. I won’t leave until you do!”
Oh, well, it seems that his stubbornness has knocked your temper loose. Or you accept that you’re too exhausted to wait him out, so there’s also no use in staying mad. Taking a deep breath, you ready yourself. You grab the chair from your desk, spin it around the opposite way, and sit with your chest against the backrest. You keep your damp towel pressed tight to your chest.
“Go ahead,” you call out to him tiredly.
“Thank you!”
“Why are you thanking me?” You tilt your head forward, knocking it against the edge of the chair. “Sorry for making you clean up my mess.” From the position of your head, you can see the splotches of red on your towel. “Literally,” you add under your breath because you know Yu’s going to offer to clean up all the blood.
Yu shuffles forward. Hearing the clutter coming from the direction of your desk means he’s gathering up the first-aid kit. “How many times have you patched me and Nanamin up? Isn’t it time for me to return the favor?”
“I’m the senpai here.”
“What did we talk about this morning?”
Right. Take care of yourself. Lean on others. Yu doesn’t understand that if you lean too much on someone else, you quickly become a burden. No. You can’t let your mind go there right now. “Didn’t you take care of me enough when you saved my life today?”
“Eh? What are you talking about? I distracted it long enough for you to finish them off. All of them. That geezer’s reaction when they all killed themselves was funny, now that I know you’re safe and can think about it.” You both share a laugh at that asshole, Ogi’s, expense. “They’re sending you on a mission with us,” he admits after a minute of silence.
“Punishment for overstepping?”
Yu doesn’t say it is, but it is. You know how these things go. “Purely research!” Yu tries to soften the blow. “We’ll make sure you don’t lift a finger! You won’t even have to think that hard! We can make it a vacation.” Yeah, right. You’re pretty sure if an auxiliary manager saw you having fun with Yu and Kento, you’d be sent away again on another mission for the penalty of simply enjoying life. “And if you don’t feel like shopping for souvenirs, I’ll do it for you. We won’t tell anyone.”
“Sure, Yu. That sounds good.”
Yu’s voice is so unbearably soft when he whispers, “You need rest, too, Senpai.” His kindness brings tears to your eyes. You’re glad that your head is down so that you can’t embarrass yourself any further today. “I’ll make sure you get some. Just leave it to me, okay?”
“Okay.” Emotion clogs up your throat, but you manage a weak, “Thank you.”
***
[06:55] You didn’t see me before you left.
[06:56] You saw Satoru. Not me.
[06:58] Never mind. I get why.
[07:32] I went too far. I was cruel. I don’t blame you for that. Never have. You were the only person that tried to help me. I’ll never forget that. I’ll always be grateful. What I said was me looking for things to say to hurt you. I almost lost you and didn’t know how to deal with that. It didn’t seem like you cared about your own life. I lashed out.
[09:13] I’m sorry. I’ve been under a lot of stress. I can’t eat or sleep. It’s no excuse. I’m sorry. I’ll say it as much as you need me to. I can’t lose you. I can’t. You’re all I have left.
[11:29] Squid. Please. Say something. Anything. I’m sorry.
[13:10] I know you’re angry. But I’m worried. No one has heard from you. Haibara won’t answer. Neither will Nanami.
[13:11] Just a simple reply. A frowny face. Anything at all. Let me know you’re seeing this.
[14:04] Squid?
[14:05[ Please.
[16:43] Are you safe?
[16:44] Is what I’m hearing true?
[16:45] Be safe. Please. Be safe.
[16:46] I’m on the way.
***
It’s a disgustingly humid September night, technically, but right now, you’re cold.
And all you wanted was to be like them.
Foolishly, you told yourself that if they could take a mission three weeks after they faced death, why couldn’t you? It’s not like you almost died. The two weeks that Sensei pushed for you to have off were generous enough. Besides, you understand it now, how much of a hindrance you actually were when you fought to keep them out of the field.
You need this.
You can’t stand to be alone with your mind.
But you weren’t ready. Just the sight of the small, dilapidated shrine has blood splattering across your memories. You break out into a cold sweat. There’s a war inside your mind. This isn’t like two weeks ago—that’s what you try to remind yourself. Push through it. A shrine doesn’t automatically equal an ubusunagami spirit. Where is Suguru? You’re sick to your stomach. Why did you split up? Have you learned nothing? Are you going to be too late to save a life again?
Stop, you plead to your body. You clench your trembling fists. You have to do this. The world has to spin on. It doesn’t care about a stupid girl who made the wrong call and killed a boy. This work is both your punishment and atonement. You’ll let them keep tugging at the leash around your neck until it’s a noose because that’s what you deserve.
The oppressive weight of the Grade 1’s cursed energy that’s been haunting these woods shifts. With nothing but the moon and some flashlights, it’s easy to follow after the explosion of blue light. You’re dazed over the fact that you missed everything that happened. Was there even a fluctuation? A fight? Is Suguru just that strong that he can absorb a Grade 1 in the dead of night like it’s nothing?
As you break into the clearing where he is, you ask, “You took care of it?” Like the answer isn’t obviously sliding down his throat, glowing eerily through the delicate skin of his neck. “Why didn’t you come find me? I wasn’t far.”
Suguru glances away after it’s swallowed. Not even a wince anymore. “It’s fine.”
This irritates you. Another little thing tonight that he’s done. Reminding you incessantly that you could stay behind with the auxiliary manager, trying to force food down your throat when you’re clearly not hungry, touching the small of your back to guide you, hovering. Now, he does this.
The only reason that you keep your mouth shut is because you know he cares. He’s a good person, like everyone else. They don’t blame you and treat you like glass, like you’re a victim. You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to breathe. You tell yourself it’s the humidity making your chest tight.
With the other hand, you wave your sketchbook. “Are you serious? It was Grade 1. I’m supposed to record that.”
“I’ll let you sketch it later.”
“It’s pointless now,” you mutter. “Don’t even bother.”
Suguru scoffs. “Okay. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Recording them doesn’t only mean drawing pretty pictures. I’m supposed to observe their behavior.”
“You can.”
“You know it isn’t the same when they’re under your control.”
Suguru reaches up to press a thumb to his forehead, meaning he’s getting irritated with you. You resist the urge to do the same, instead tapping your foot impatiently. “It’s your first mission back,” he tries to reason. “I’m sure they’ll be understanding. But if they try to hold imperfect notes against you, I’ll take the blame.”
“I don’t want them to take it easy on me!”
He shakes his head, dismissive. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“I’m not broken.”
“Everything about this goddamn system is broken!” Suguru shouts, making you reel back. The two of you watch each other warily. He shakes his head again, squeezes his eyes shut, takes deep breaths. “Let’s…just go. We’ll deal with this later,” he mutters irritably. “Let’s meet with the contact in the village and use their phone to call the manager.”
“Fine.”
Three wide brown eyes stare at you in terror.
There should be four, but one is swollen shut.
That face is too tiny to be so battered.
Suguru speaks where you cannot. “What is this?”
A man and woman were at the door, frantic and desperate to know where you and Suguru had been. Before you’d even had the chance to explain that their problem was taken care of, they practically shoved you and Suguru toward a shed. It was hard to make out what they were trying to say throughout their panicked and angry babbling. You think there was something about some murderers.
From behind you, your contact in the village answers, “What, you ask? These two are responsible for the latest incidents, right?”
Suguru is back to pressing a thumb to his forehead. Emotions are rising. Yours definitely are. Anger is putting a tremble in your hands again and your head is throbbing. You’re trying to find your voice past the lump in your throat. What the fuck is this? Does no one fucking visit these places before sending a sorcerer out?! A sorcerer wasn’t the only person needed here! A goddamn police officer was!
“No, they’re not,” Suguru answers more calmly than you can.
The man insists, “These two are crazy! They used their mysterious powers to attack the villagers!”
Something about the girls shifting, huddling closer to each other, finally snaps you into action. Full of rage, you shove past the woman to grab the set of keys that you saw near the door. “If you psychos even gave us the chance to talk, you’d know that we got rid of the problem already!”
The couple starts to sputter in outrage, seeing your clear plan to release these girls. Suguru remains unmoving, big body enough of a deterrent to keep the non-sorcerers from lashing out. So, the woman claws at your wrist. “My granddaughter was nearly killed by these two!”
One of the little girls, the one with dirty blonde hair, tries to protest, “That’s because she—”
“Shut up, you monsters!” Out of the corner of your eye, the shadows shift unnaturally. In the flickering of the flame, it’s not too noticeable. Suguru’s shadow raises a hand, pointing, and from the end of that finger comes a little spirit. “Your parents were just as bad,” the woman continues to rave. “I knew we should have killed you when you two were babies!”
It’s okay, Suguru commands the little spirit to whisper. He’s trying to reassure the little girls, to let them know that you’re all one in the same, that they’ll be safe with you. Adrenaline is rushing through your veins. There is a primal instinct to get these girls out of this place. You are all in danger here.
Blocking the entrance of the cell with your body, with every fiber of your being, you swear to the couple, “If you ever try to hurt these children again, I will kill you.” If Suguru will be gentle, then you will flash your teeth. It’s enough to send the man and woman stumbling back. “We’re leaving. If you try to stop us, I will kill you. Do you understand?”
No response. They just book it.
As soon as they’re out the door, you’re a flurry of movement. You tear off your hoodie and snatch Suguru’s blazer from where it’d slipped out of his grasp from the shock. You collapse to your knees in front of the girls, resisting the urge to touch them and check for injuries before you introduce yourself.
“We’re like you,” you explain as gently as you can when you feel so frantic. “We see them. We see you. I’m going to protect you with my life, okay? Are you cold?” They nod fervently. “Put these on. Let me help. Can you walk?” Throughout the process of wrapping them up in something warm, they manage weak affirmations. “Good. Okay. I know the things you’ve been seeing are scary, but Suguru can control them. If you see any of them, don’t be afraid. You never have to be afraid when he’s around.” You look over your shoulder briefly, hoping that directly speaking to him will pull him out of the trance. “Right? Suguru?”
Suguru stares at you blankly, unseeing. Inside him, though, his cursed energy is a frenzy. So big, so uncontrollable that it bleeds out. It’s sharp, like needles pinning down the wings of an insect. You are aggressively thrown back to that day where Satoru rose from the dead, godlike in his power, and how small it made you feel. Prey under the heavy gaze of a predator.
“Suguru is going to protect us all,” you tell yourself and them. High emotions have you sensitive to the cursed energies of others, so that’s why you can feel him so viscerally. It’s scary. You’ve never felt rage like this before—from you or him. It’s the same for you, but you can’t sit here and stew in this. These girls come first now. “Take my hands,” you instruct them as you hold your hands out. “Don’t let go.”
The makeshift prison is, thankfully, on the edge of the village. It wouldn’t be good to parade through the streets. Locking these children up was a collective decision. The faster you can get the fuck out, the better. If you can make it through the woods, to the main road, you can get a signal there, you think. No. No, you’ll just ride the manta ray. You’ll explain everything as soon as you get to Sensei.
“You’re safe now. You don’t have to be scared anymore.” You didn’t realize you were rambling, unconsciously trying to distract them from their fear with your chatter. “There’s a school. Full of people just like us. You’ll get to meet them. There’s my best friend, Shoko. She’ll make you feel better. Her power is to heal. Better than any regular doctor. And there’s our best friend. His name is Satoru. He’s super strong. Just like Suguru. He loves Digimon. He’s got lots of plushies to share with you.”
All these emotions have you feel like you could crawl out of your skin. And Suguru still hasn’t said anything. He’s mechanical in his movements, staying at the back of your little group. As you guide the group, you can pinpoint the opening of rifts, sense the cursed spirits that crawl out. Good. Yes. More protection. Who knows how those monsters are acting right now. They could be rallying the village.
“We’re going to make sure you’re taken care of. You’ll never be in a place like that ever again. I swear, you’re going to be in a place that’s full of love and understanding. Not everyone is like those terrible, terrible people—”
The more protective of the two is the blonde, based solely off that she went with you first. Voice shaking, but trying so hard to be brave, she asks, “They’re not?”
“They are.”
There’s this…snap. So brutal a turn that it hits you like whiplash.
Around you, there is such a sudden stillness that it feels like the very world has its breath held. There’s no veil. But nature senses a storm on the horizon. The eeriness of it is like ice slithering down your spine. You’ve unknowingly come to a stop, slowly turning around to face Suguru. Over his shoulder, a wider rift is opening, and as you stare into the inky darkness, many glowing eyes stare back.
The ground shakes when the Grade 1 clumbers out of the rift. It has to be the one from earlier. The foliage and trees growing on its back are distinct. Along with those eyes. And fangs so long and big that they stick out of the spirit’s mouth. It looms tall, but it doesn’t make you feel near as small as Suguru is right now.
“There are good people,” you protest quietly.
“There are good sorcerers,” he corrects just as lowly. “And where do they end up? In the ground.” Carefully, you nudge the girls further behind you before you step away. This is not a conversation that they need to hear. “When will it be our turn?” Close enough, you see the desperation in his eyes. “How long before it’s your body on a slab?”
“Death is a part of life.” Your fingers seek his out, threading together, trying to comfort him. “And we decided to risk that death coming earlier than everyone else when we left home. We chose to put our lives on the line.”
“But who are we doing this for?!” Suguru yanks his hands away, stretching his arms out, gesturing toward everything. “Animals like these?!”
“There are more good people in this world than bad.”
“If that’s the case, why do curses exist?”
“Suguru, that’s just how things are. It’s the way nature made us.”
“No. Nature made sorcerers better. They made us stronger. Why do we have to put our lives on the line like this for stinking monkeys that keep throwing their shit at us? We hide ourselves away from them, working in the shadows, always being so careful to not disturb their peace of mind, and for what? Is it so they can lock little girls in cages because they’re too scared of the unknown? Or so they can beat me like my fucking father did or constantly belittle and demean you like your parents did all for the sin of not being what they call normal? We don’t deserve this!”
“I know we don’t. No one does.” How can you explain this to him? You understand what he’s saying. Down in your bones, you know where this resentment is coming from. “But while there exists extreme cruelty, there also exists overwhelming kindness. It can’t be all bad. We found happiness, didn’t we?”
“We found it with sorcerers. If we lived in a world where no non-sorcerer existed, there wouldn’t be all this pain!”
“But…that world doesn’t exist. It can’t.”
“Why not?”
You give a sharp, hysterical laugh. “Because you’d have to kill every non-sorcerer living, that’s why. That’s not possible.”
He tilts his head, almost condescending when he sneers, “It’s not?” The cursed spirit behind him gives a rumbling growl, reminding you of its presence, of its threat. Your already racing heart pounds faster as you comprehend his meaning. Surely, he doesn’t mean…
“Suguru, let’s go home,” you plead.
“No.” No? “There is no home for me now. We’ll never be safe or happy until this world is clean. I understand what my true path is now. I know what I need to do now…and I’ll kill anyone that gets in my way.”
The precipice that your world has been standing on the edge of for the last year finally tilts.
Suguru won’t hurt me.
Right now, you’re the only person that can stand close enough to drag him back from the edge. I’ll kill anyone that gets in my way, he threatens, and right now, you believe that. But not me, you know. Therefore, it must be you that saves him. Because he’s falling. He’s going somewhere that you won’t be able to follow. You’re going to lose him. This would be rebirth and this would be death.
Suguru won’t hurt me.
Cursed spirits seem to explode out of him. Too many to count. You know them all. The blossoming promise of an army that the higher-ups were always afraid he could weaponize.
Suguru won’t hurt me.
That Grade 1 shifts. Its maw, hungry for blood, opens wide. It raises an arm, claws sharp and poised at the ready. You know that when it moves, it’s over. The other spirits will follow. This Grade 1 is an extension of Suguru. This is his rage, his loneliness, his agony.
Suguru won’t hurt me.
Eyes, cold and hard as the amethyst they so resemble, stare dead ahead with steel-like resolve. Slowly, he starts to turn his back on you. You have to stop him. You have to keep talking to him. And you reach out a hand to grab at his bicep. Your mouth is in the shape of his mouth. You think…you think that you might say something that sounds like stop.
Suguru won’t hurt me.
Just as your body instinctually knows that you don’t need to pacify his spirits, that he won’t hurt you…his body knows not to hurt you, either…
Suguru won’t hurt me.
…right?
Suguru won’t—
Blood colors your vision. Pain doesn’t even register in your brain. One second, you’re upright, and in the next, the ground is rising up to meet you. Even the resounding thud that your body gives as it slams down does triggers nothing. Sprawled out in the lush green grass, it only really feels numb to you.
No, all your erratic thoughts can seem to focus on is how disgusting this feels. Wet, sticky heat is quickly soaking your white shirt, weighing it down against your skin, making you feel trapped. You might be gasping for air that you can’t seem to get enough of.
Suguru…hurt…
Thoughts are getting scattered in your brain now. The world narrows in, black hedging in at the corner of your vision. You want it off. The shirt. The blood. You stupidly reach a hand up to wipe away the blood. Gore is all you find. Open gaping wounds that start at the crook of your neck and go…you don’t know how far down. You don’t have the strength left to follow the path.
Suguru…hurt…
Oh. There is he above you now. Thank goodness, you think when you see the panic so clear on his face. Emotion…there’s all those emotions that’d been missing. Nothing cold anymore. Thank goodness. His mouth moves. Says your name, maybe. You can’t hear him. You can’t feel it when he presses his hands somewhere on your body, either. Putting pressure on it must not be working. There’s a lot of blood dripping from his hands when he scrambles to pull out his cell phone. Ah. Yeah, your vision is starting to blur. You give up trying to read his lips.
It's a pretty night, all things considered. For as much as you two hated it, it’s beautiful in the countryside. Easier to see the moon and stars. You always tried to reject that reality. After you left for Tokyo, you thought that was it, that you left that all behind for good, that you wouldn’t die in the backwoods.
Guess you were wrong about that.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk fic#satosugu x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#jjk gojo#jjk geto#gojo satoru#geto suguru#anime#my fic#autistic reader#autistic gojo#jjk angst#jjk fanfic
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i didn’t think about adding babs or steph because i know they aren’t technically batkids, but i shall do it now for fun!
7)
stephanie has not a fucking clue how she got where she is, wherever… that… is…
it looks like new york, sounds like new york, smells like new york… but… there’s something different about it that she can’t put her finger down on.
the last thing she remembers happening in gotham is taking a bite of a burger from Batburger. it was a good burger. probably because she hadn’t spent any of her own money on it.
but, just as soon as her teeth sunk into the burger, a weird light bulb blew and then the next thing she knew she was sitting in a different restaurant. she felt different too, like her insides had been rearranged.
she was very uncomfortable.
steph wandered around for a while, her eyes darting around the city aimlessly as she tried to find something as an identifier. she came up empty handed outside of some news channel complaining about some… spider… guy.
she wasn’t really paying attention in all honesty. she was more concerned with where she was.
steph let out a sigh, shaking her head. she felt a little hopeless, walking around aimlessly in an unfamiliar city in god-knows-where. she tried thinking about what bruce would do, but the thought made her angry so she ignored it completely.
she took a left, and suddenly she was face-to-face with the spider guy from the news channel. she blinked a handful of times, making sure she wasn’t going mad.
the person was climbing a wall like it was the most normal thing in the world, their lean build making climbing easy and efficient. she considered, just for a second, to try and do that herself whenever she got home.
“what the fuck,” she lets out suddenly, staring.
the person’s head whips around and they stare with a blank expression on their mask. they tilt their head, staring.
“you’re not from new york,” they said simply, and steph rolls her eyes. “you’re not from here, are you?” they ask and she stiffens.
“how did you know that? did you send me here? if i could —“ she starts and the person shakes their head.
“no. i didn’t, but i can help bring you home.” they sigh and hop down, landing on the tips of their toes with practiced grace.
and they did just that, after eating mexican food with steph on the rooftop of their apartment building. they talked for a while, mainly about their shady parents and even shadier parental figures. they really did bond, and steph actually really liked peter. even if their… strange… spidery tendencies scared her. she liked them.
she liked them so much that she even offered them to come with her after the weird contraption had been built, but they declined. she left their world feeling both a little lighter, and a little empty.
8)
barbara had been considering quitting for years, after getting shot and almost killed by the joker really put a damper on her second life. even if she loved batgirl, she couldn’t continue putting her health at risk.
…which is what she told herself before she jumped at the first opportunity to go on patrol with bruce again. she really should’ve said no, especially considering the new magic user in gotham city.
which is why she’s in the situation she is, now. he had blasted her with… some sort of… ray from his fingertips. it was weird, it felt violating, and she felt sick afterwards.
well, she felt sick after she hit the hardwood floor of someone’s apartment.
someone who… curiously enough… had jumped up and stuck to a wall, and stared at her with wide eyes. they looked nervous, scared, and protective.
they reminded her a lot of tim. it made her smile.
and then gag.
where was she??
she stood slowly, brushing the dust off her suit before placing her hands on her hips.
“where am i?” barbara asks, tilting her head.
“my apartment.” the person huffs before they hop off the wall, landing gracefully.
“i assumed.” barbara huffs back, crossing her arms over her chest. “and where is that?”
“queens, new york.” the person mutters, standing in a defensive position - but their limbs remained loose and pliable. it was a talent that only dick could master, and she was immediately impressed.
“new york…” she murmurs, nodding her head. “i’m not from new york.” she sighs.
“i can tell.” the person hums, nodding their head. “jersey? you sound like it.” they mutter, and she smiles softly, nodding.
“yeah — uh — but… i feel weird. like… my insides are twisted.” barbara mumbles, holding her stomach.
the person’s eyes widen slightly before nodding tiredly, and they walk away. barbara didn’t even have a chance to call out before they came back in with some device.
“do you know how many people i’ve had crash into my apartment after being teleported across dimensions?” they ask as they ready the device up. “four people. it’s concerning.”
barbara laughs, and the two talk for a while as the person — peter, she learns — fixes the device up to help her get home. she learns that peter’s a vigilante too, named spider-man, and they were bit by a radioactive spider. which she thought was cool. she also learned their favorite things, their interests, and she realized they were more like than she thought.
she had offered to show them where she comes from, but they told her it was a one way trip. barbara felt like she was losing an old friend, which was strange, but she moves on anyway. brace face and all.
she goes back to gotham and tells a million stories of peter and her adventures, and she wishes she could be back in his shabby apartment laughing over goldfish and protective fathers.
i’m sure we’ve all read at least one or two “peter parker in gotham” fanfics. they’re a personal favorite, especially when they’re done well. and i do get why peter is always in gotham, but…
…why not put one of the batkids in peter’s new york? i think it’d be interesting.
my personal favorite is tim drake, but i do think any of the batkids would be absolute comedic gold. here’s why:
1)
dick would’ve 100% “fallen” into some portal during a fight and ended up in new york. at first he thought it was just that, the portal teleported him into new york. whatever. that’s like a regular tuesday for him.
but then he saw some news program (“The Daily Bugle”) talking about some… Spider-man guy that dick’s never seen! never heard of! who the fuck was this guy and where is dick!?
he momentarily freaks the fuck out before giving himself a mission; find out where the fuck he is and then get back home. easy enough. he’s been stranded before. it should be easy for him to get back home.
at least he thinks so, until he bumps into the aforementioned Spider-man guy, who is surprisingly friendly despite the strange way they move. guess the spider thing was fr.
they bond over acrobatics while peter is attempting to figure out how to build a teleporter (he figures it out quicker than expected and spends far too much time styling it)
2)
jason was on a mission with the outlaws, and one thing led to another and now he and the rest of his team had been teleported to different locations.
he had assumed that bullshit ray gun was some dollar general version of the big stuff until he walks head first into a humongous spiderweb that sticks to his helmet.
jason fucking hates spiders.
he freaks out (duh) and yanks his helmet off and stumbles away, staring at the way it just… hangs there… and suddenly he knew for a fact he wasn’t supposed to be there.
he looks around for a while after that, helmet-less and confused as all fuck. he thinks distantly that maybe he could just restart here. no joker, no batman, no nightwing, no responsibilities. he could make it work.
on his walk, he comes across a mugging. he attempts to get in there, of course, but he’s completely outgunned by some soft-looking fuck in red spandex.
red spandex! what the fuck!
the red-spandex person cleans the mugging up swiftly, and then they turn around to see jason there. they freeze, their mask scrunching up.
jason tries to shoot at them, but his hands get webbed to the wall before he could even reach into his pants.
he’s mildly impressed.
3)
tim is completely whelmed when he just… disappears on his walk back to the manor after school. there’s no portal, no laser beam, no spell… he just… trips once and then falls through the sidewalk. it was so fucking weird.
he’s caught off guard as he’s spit back up from the other side, coughing and heaving breath after breath into his lungs as he takes in his surroundings. he’s in some bad smelling alleyway, and he could feel at least three other people near him.
he’s in a loud, busy city with tall buildings and aggressive crowds. it’s too bright to be Gotham and too gloomy to be Metropolis.
where is he?
he stands shakily, brushing himself off before looking around again. more focused this time, though. he focuses on his location.
he turns to see a homeless man staring, and before he could even open his mouth, the man screams before hissing at him and running the opposite way.
what the fuck?
he tosses his hands in the air before getting cut off by a snort, and he whips around to see a lean, thin, soft-looking person in red and blue spandex. their face is covered by a mask, but even then their mask is so animated that tim feels immediately impressed.
“you scared jimmy.” the person says simply, tilting their head.
“you scared me.” tim responds, tilting his head slightly to mirror them. they laugh, their white eyes narrowing.
“you’re not from around here,” the person says slowly, leaning forward slightly. “let me guess… jersey?”
“huh, how’d you know?” tim snorts, shaking his head.
“accent.” the person shrugs.
the two bond quickly, over everything and nothing at the same time; and they simultaneously figure out that tim is in an alternate dimension and they work together to figure out how to get him home.
by the time tim returns to gotham, he’s picked up more of peter’s spider-like attributes than he’d ever like to admit.
4)
damian doesn’t want to admit that he went head first into a villain’s trap, but… he did.
in his defense, his father did nothing to stop him from doing it. truly, it’s his father’s fault. not his.
he blinks awake to find himself in a puddle, and theres cold rainwater falling onto him and soaking into his suit. it’s uncomfortable, cold, and he feels like curling into a ball and hiding.
but he can’t. he can tell he isn’t in gotham. what if he was somewhere unsafe? he needed to stay vigilant and aware.
he sits up, and immediately feels eyes on him. he looks around, paranoid and on guard.
before he can really understand what’s happening, he sees a person dressed in red spandex hop off what looks like a human sized spider web, landing on their feet with perfect, practiced elegance.
“you’re too young to be dressed like that,” the person begins as they walk closer. “too young to be what you are.”
damian scoffs and stands slowly, hiding a wince as he leans on his left foot. something’s sprained.
“hardly.” damian shakes his head, and the person tilts theirs in response.
“i had a feeling, but i had hoped i was wrong.” the person says softly before walking closer.
the last thing damian remembers before waking up in a warm bed was a warm hand grabbing his arm gently.
the person in red spandex reveals themselves, and they talk. for a while. damian ends up really liking them, especially after they tell damian all about the spider that bit them.
he almost doesn’t want to leave.
5)
while shadow traveling (like in pjo?), duke goes a little too far. he knows he should’ve gone back, but he’s never gone this far and he was so curious it ached.
so he kept going until he walked out the other side, into a very busy alleyway. it smelled of garbage and weed, which didn’t necessarily bother duke but it did tickle his nose slightly.
he decided to figure out where he was first, and then worry about getting back. if he found out a way to get from one timeline to another, then bruce would be extremely grateful to have duke’s abilities on his side.
right?
duke could only hope so.
he walks around for a while, ending up on a very busy sidewalk. he sighs and steps next to a hot dog cart, to which the man stares at him strangely before shrugging and preparing a hot dog. duke goes to refuse, but hears… something in the distance.
he didn’t have time to react before the hot dog cart’s owner held the hot dog out to the street, and a person dressed in red spandex swung past and snatched it up. then, a few seconds later, a five dollar bill was… webbed to the side of the hot dog cart.
duke stared in awe, his eyes wide as he watches the scene. he immediately searches for a library, and immediately begins looking up who this person in red is.
does he forget that he isn’t dressed like a normal civilian half way through? yes. does he fix that? no.
he tracks spider-man down pretty easily, and asks them a million questions all at the same time, to which his mouth gets webbed for. spider-man snorts and answers every single one of his questions.
duke feels so heard it hurts his heart.
he shows spider-man how he did it, bids them farewell after letting spider-man take a picture and several notes of duke’s powers.
duke goes back to gotham feeling light and warm, a smile on his face.
6)
cassandra woke up on a rooftop, feeling sick and tired. she assumed it was some sort of alternate dimensional travel, considering she had been in a space ship beforehand and now she wasn’t.
she uses context clues as well.
the loud bustling streets, the tall but modern buildings, the laughing, the music — none of it is gotham. she knew that very well, but she was still rather confused.
if she wasn’t in space, if she wasn’t in gotham, where was she?
she lets out a silent grunt before slowly sitting, and then standing up. everything hurt. she guessed her spaceship had crashed into some sort of… cosmic ray or portal and she fell out of it. made the most sense.
she looks around slowly, taking in her surroundings like she was taught. she sighs softly when she turns up empty handed, back at square one.
one thing she does notice is the obvious eyes on her. the person isn’t trying to hide, which means she probably in their terf. that isn’t good. not good at all.
cassandra barely turns her head before she feels something pulling at her wrist. looking down, she finds her wrist being tugged by a synthetic spiderweb. it was sticky, silky, and had far too much pull to it.
she twists her arm and pulls on the webs, and then the person comes forward with a heavy step. shiny red and blue spandex fits this person’s body like a glove, and the mask they wear is far too animated to be authentic. must be a function.
the two fight, and as they do cassandra watches the person’s spider-like tendencies. they move with suck fluidity that she feels inferior for the first time in a long time. she’s left in awe, almost.
eventually, she forfeits. she knows when she’s about to lose a fight, when it’s better to stop and give up then die fighting. even if this spider person doesn’t seem hostile, just protective.
“i’m not from here.” she states simply as she’s allowed to stand.
“i know.” the person responds, and cassandra feels more at ease than she did beforehand.
the person - peter takes care of her during her time in new york. gives her a bed, hot food, and even a fake identity for the time being. it works, and eventually she’s back home.
sometimes she tries to mimic peter’s fighting style, but without his abilities, she comes up short.
but the memories are warm and fuzzy and she likes to dream about it.
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WIP Wednesday: Sebardagni 1920s AU: Snippet - Bard meets Ruby
I'm back on my business hoping 2025 is finally the year I get to fill your lives with tons of kuro rarepair AU content!
Here's another scene from my 1920s sebardagni AU that has been floating around in my mind for months and that I was finally able to write the other day.
It's the first of two scenes in which Bard meets Sebastian, aka "Ruby," for the first time, and he's immediately smitten--even after he realizes "Ruby" is a man.
About this AU:
Sebardagni, multichapter, 1920s AU, Human Sebastian, Disabled Sebastian
Set in the US during the 1920s when Prohibition of alcohol was at its peak. Sebastian has a mysterious past that becomes central to the story as it unfolds, but when it begins works out of his apartment as a music tutor and at night performs at Undertaker's speakeasy. That's where he meets Bard, who was left aimless after the end of WWI, and now works as a bouncer for Undertaker in his club. Agni (who isn't in this snippet) is a doctor and who was living with Sebastian when Bard and he met.
*the image above is a preview of a comic by @luci-on-the-moon that will be revealed later
Enjoy, and if this is an AU you're interested in, let me know!
~#~
A hush fell over the entire club as all attention fixed on the piano, which played a simple, tinkling melody that seemed to float through the air like a mist. In the center of it all, spotlight illuminating, was Ruby, dress and jewels the color of her namesake glittering in the light. She was even more beautiful than Bard had imagined she’d be based on everything he’d heard. Her long, luxurious black hair draped over her shoulders, not chopped short like was the fashion, and Bard wondered if, despite the fact she was singing in an underground club run by a shady character like Undertaker, she might be a traditional, classy girl. Her lips were full and lashes long, with skin like fresh cream that Bard longed to touch. But then the piano swelled and she began to sing, and suddenly the entire world around Bard faded away into the soulful sound that cradled him like a warm embrace after years at war. “What’ll I do? When you are far away and I am blue.“ Bard’s mouth went dry as he listened, ash falling from his cigarette as he remained enraptured, as if Ruby were a siren mesmerizing him with her song. The melody was simple, letting the richness of her singing shine through. Bard could feel the emotion she was pouring into every word as she sang sadly of the lover she would never see again. The music crescendoed as Ruby leaned back on the piano, her long legs peaking from the slit in her unfashionably long dress. Though it fit her like God himself had made it for her, so Bard wasn’t about to complain. She wasn’t curvy, but she had a magnetism that made her beauty radiate. “What’ll I do with just a photograph—” She dropped her gaze, those captivating long lashes brushing her cheeks, and when she lifted it again, Bard could have sworn she was looking straight at him. “—to tell my troubles to?” Ruby smiled, amused, but only for a fleeting moment as she continued the song, heartbreak hovering in every note, “When I’m alone, with all the dreams of you that won’t come true. . .” Ruby paused, and so did the music, to let the audience hang on every single second, waiting for her to finish. She stared down at her legs, her voice shifting so that Bard would have sworn she were on the brink of tears. “What’ll I do?” The final chord played and the speakeasy erupted into whistling and clapping, most of the crowd jumping to their feet. But all Bard’s attention was still fixed on Ruby, her red dress glittering as she shifted, blowing kisses to the crowd and winking occasionally before the spotlight slid to the left and the MC began introducing the next performance. As much as he wanted to keep his gaze fixed on her until the last moment, when she disappeared backstage, a fight broke out to Bard’s right. which meant he had a job to do. But after his shift ended, he was gonna pay Ruby a visit.
#black butler#黒執事#sebastian michaelis#bardroy#sebard#fan art#wip#poi writes#snippet#wip wednesday#1920s au#1920s sebardagni au#sebastian as ruby#bard#baldroy
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Death and the Maiden (Marianne Stokes, 1908)
2.06 “Like the Light by Which God Made the World Before He Made Light”
#armand#madeleine eparvier#like the light by which god made the world before he made light#iwtv#interview with the vampire#season two#art parallel
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fuck fuck fuck the fucking INTIMACY of claudia gently guiding madeleine through her transformation, claudia holding madeleine’s hand, telling her to focus on her voice, madeleine saying not to worry about lestat’s blood, it’s good enough for her because it’s what made claudia, her love, madeleine breathing i want you to, and claudia bowing her head to drink…oh. oh. okay
#claudeleine#claudia x madeleine#iwtv s2#interview with the vampire#like the light by which god made the world before he made light
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Interview with the Vampire (2024)
-Season 2 Episode 6: "Like the light by which God made the world before he made light"
What We Do In The Shadows (2020)
-Season 2 Episode 1: "Resurrection"
#is this anything#loumand#iwtv#amc iwtv#interview with the vampire#iwtv s2e6#like the light by which god made the world before he made light#laszlo cravensworth#nadja of antipaxos#what we do in the shadows#wwdits#what even is laszlo and nadja's ship name? do you need one when you're married?#laszlo x nadja#wwdits s2e1
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just some of my favorite tweets about tonight's (absolutely perfect, truly work of art) episode of interview with the vampire 1/xx
bonus crossover of what we do in the shadows
#iwtv spoilers#interview with the vampire spoilers#amc iwtv#iwtv season 2#iwtv s2#tweets#claudia de lioncourt#armand#louis de pointe du lac#lestat de lioncourt#i don't understand how this show just gets better and better when it's already SOgood like i'm floored each episode#thinking there's no way they can top this and then each week the cycle continues#what we do in the shadows#Like the Light by Which God Made the World Before He Made Light#tweetroundup
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Interview With The Vampire, S02E06
#interview with the vampire#iwtv#tv shows#my gifs#gifs#gifset#blood#like the light by which god made the world before he made light#(I fumbled typing that title so many times just now)#tvgifs#tvedit#cinematv#cinemapix#soupy's#vampires#louis de pointe du lac#jacob anderson#madeleine eparvier#roxane duran#horrorgifs#userhorroredits#fangs
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The "are you asking or making me?" Scene makes me sick to my stomach. Armand's face and voice and mannerisms changing when he says that line, the realization and disappointment on Louis' face, Louis pausing his hand right before he touches Armand's face in case he flinches away from the touch I'm going insane
#iwtv spoilers#marius when i catch you marius#apparently armand is being manipulative in that scene and if so it worked on me#they make me crazy#theyre so bad for each other i need ten seasons of their relationship#amc interview with the vampire#interview with the vampire#iwtv season 2#armand#the vampire armand#louis de pointe du lac#loumand#assad zaman the actor that you are#like the light by which god made the world before he made light
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Claudia de Pointe du Lac de Lioncourt
Prints
10 hours on Photoshop! Unfortunately had to reduce the resolution to upload it to tumblr :c. Anyways, I hope y'all will enjoy it! :D
#my art#digital art#iwtv#iwtv fanart#like the light by which god made the world before he made light#interview with the vampire fanart#interview with the vampire#claudia iwtv#iwtv claudia#claudia de pointe du lac#claudia de lioncourt#delainey hayles#digital painting
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2x6, Madeleine says “yes, he loves you” to Armand after stating she can feel him through Louis (the whole bit where Louis just started to quote Lestat) and…. I just realized the phrasing of this is an answer to a question that wasn’t asked aloud. Had Armand, in a panic, let the questions slip from his mind and she picked up on it? Or had he intentionally, in a split moment, asked her if Louis loved him? or did she pick up on his psychic anguish in that moment and choose to put him out of his misery with a confirmation?
Or am I just reading into a specific line read that is insignificant?
“Yes” feels so…. SO significant. Idk…
#the vampire armand#madeleine eparvier#louis de pointe du lac#amc interview with the vampire#iwtv#like the light by which god made the world before he made light
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raglan james (thee body thief of tale of the body thief fame) said this in iwtv s2e6 and it somehow slipped passed me until now
#the vampire chronicles#interview with the vampire#iwtv spoilers#?#Sorry if this has been talked about b4#maybe i'm just on the wrong side of iwtv internet cause to me this was CRAAAAZYY#interview with the vampire season 2#amc iwtv#iwtv s2#raglan james#the talamasca#tale of the body thief#anne rice#daniel molloy#like the light by which god made the world before he made light#tvc spoilers#tvc#posts#2.06
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Ophelia (John Everett Millais, 1851-52)
2.06 “Like the Light by Which God Made the World Before He Made Light”
#madeleine eparvier#like the light by which god made the world before he made light#interview with the vampire#iwtv#season two#art parallel
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