#Tragedy in narratives
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Sometimes, Things Happen (Ace Attorney Analysis)
I have more thoughts in my mind about Miles Edgeworth and the way he’s written in the Ace Attorney Trilogy and the Investigations duology so far.
There is one detail I appreciate about the way his backstory is framed.
Often in stories (movies, video games, TV, any media under the sun with characters and a narrative) we see a character’s tragic past as “something that had to happen.” That “they wouldn’t be who they are today if it wasn’t for their hardships,” their suffering built character and/or made them stronger, and that everything happens for a reason.
If we take a look at Edgeworth and the way he (and the narrative) treats his past, we are shown a different angle. The DL-6 Incident and its fallout are depicted as a negative event, one that ruined the lives of many. It was a devastating case for almost everyone involved (and even Manfred von Karma was worse for it, diving even further into corruption and going way past the point of no return.)
In later games, even after the DL-6 case is solved and officially put to rest, Edgeworth still refers to it as the time his life was shattered forever. It’s only through a lot of soul searching and reconnecting with old friends (along with new ones) that Edgeworth begins a new path in his life. I start to delve into speculation and head canon territory with my next statement, but one could argue that Miles wouldn’t be questioning his own morality and purpose in life if DL-6 didn’t occur and Gregory was still alive to give him guidance.
Ace Attorney’s writing is consistent so far in that it doesn’t consider its more tragic events as blessings in disguise, meant to give characters challenges to overcome and be their best selves. Instead these scenes show that “sometimes bad things happen to good people, and acceptance still doesn’t bring back the people who are gone.” It is a sad truth, but one that can probably resonate with players to some degree.
This game series might have some gimmicks, running jokes and pun-filled names, but when it gets into serious matters, it sure doesn’t mess around.
I truly respect that as a storyteller and reader.
#Ace Attorney#analysis posts#Lynn plays video games#Lynn thinks about video games#Miles Edgeworth#the DL-6 Incident#Tragedy in narratives#good storytelling#video game appreciation#this series is DEEP y'all and I probably just hit the tip of the iceberg#Love the writing for AA especially the first trilogy#it's so fascinating!
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one thing about orpheus and eurydice is you guys are all like “i’m different i wouldnt turn to look at her” because you are all familiar with the story of orpheus and eurydice. but orpheus wasnt familiar with the story because he was in it lol.
#anyway. its only really good bc its a tragedy. doomed by the narrative etc. he has to turn around theres no other end.#greek mythology#sorry. this ones in post jail now.
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Enough of the trope where memory loss undoes the damage or the corruption or whatever. More content where removing memories just removes the context.
The tragedy of needing to grieve and not knowing what or who you lost or why. The angst of having trauma and being denied the awareness that it's trauma. The suspense of being different somehow and left to wonder how and when. The tension of knowing that something is off and you can't find where it hurts. The Adventure Zone gets it. Kingdom Hearts gets it.
There is an aching inside you and you don't know how it got there.
#i think about xion or the stolen century and need to lay down. i'm so normal about them.#tropes#narrative tropes#memory loss#tragedy#angst#the adventure zone#taz balance#the stolen century#kingdom hearts#xion#writing#musings#hall of fame
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if tumblr loves anything, it's bitches who are doomed by the narrative. in this uquiz, find out what role are you in the tragic play?
#pls pls pls take it#ive been working on this for forever and a half#judas talks#medium uquiz#uquiz link#my uquiz#uquizzes#uquiz meme#uquiz#my quiz#personality quizzes#personality quiz#quizzes#quiz link#uquiz quiz#quiz#doomed by the narrative#tragedy#tragic
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hopeless time loop. the way out isn’t to save everyone. the way out isn’t to save even one person. the way out isn’t to change anything. the way out is accepting how it happened the first time is how it always will be. that’s how you acted, that’s how they acted, that’s how you would have acted every time if you weren’t given the curse of hindsight. the way out is accepting you can’t fix the past; you can only forgive yourself for it.
#there's this game i love called little hope that plays with these ideas (though not with a time loop)#i do love time loops narratives that explore how a person is confronted with their life and their choices#when forced to live the same day over and over again#and i LOVE time loops that try to reverse mistakes made and lives lost#but to see a character put themselves through loops upon loops upon loops#trying to rectify past mistakes (especially in the case where people died) only to be confronted with the reality it isn't working#and even in a loop where they save everyone the loop just resets#because the universe is essentially saying 'no that isn't how it happened and you know that's not how it happened'#it compels me!#i feel similarly about time travel where time 'fights back'#like this idea that there is a central timeline that time does not like being diverted from#so it will try to course correct itself#you save lincoln from an assassination only for him to die in a train crash#it's a cool way to confront the idea of fate#anyway all tragedies are hopeless time loops thank you for coming to my ted talk#a shout into the void#1k#5k#10k
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i lied. put your clothes back on. i’m going to explain to you how the codependent and homoerotic relationship between john lennon and paul mccartney caused the beatles to break up and ultimately led to john’s premature murder.
#doomed by the narrative#in a shakespearean tragedy type way#john lennon#paul mccartney#the beatles#mclennon#george harrison#ringo starr#paul mccartney x john lennon
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I made a silly uquiz while dog sitting"
(This is very Tumblr-core. There are many like it, but this one is mine.)
#i feel like the 'kinds of tragedy' that Tumblr comes up with are always like the same three#tried to get a little bit outside the box but idk#bc honestly doomed by the narrative is great but whenever people go on and on about that i begin to suspect that they just haven't read#that many tragedies#idk i did my best#fun nonsense#pontifications and creations#note also: these 'kinds' of tragedy are not mutually exclusive#like. wuthering heights alone has like half of em and I'm not even sure I'd call it a tragedy at all#uquiz
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Yesterday for the first time I saw a post in a public forum that actually points out Marika has every reason to be so cold & distant towards Maliketh... thanks God.
The Two Fingers/ EIden Beast stood aside & let her entire family die, then when it successfully entrapped her in a literal divine prison it said “here we gave you a brother lol” like istg WHAT are you even saying. Her entire real family is already in a ditch !!! No prayers to the Gods help them! And now these Godlike beings are like take this random guy as your bro???
It’s confirmed in the base game Shadowbeast is like sleeper agent that the Two Fingers put there to monitor their Empyrean & off them if they try to rebel, no matter how earnest the Shadowbeast sounds. Ranni and Blaid literally grew up together & we still have to get rid of him at the end of her questline 💀 Marika was a young woman who had lost everything then forced to recognize some stranger as family. To her that must be some fucked up joke.
And get this, I do believe Maliketh and Blaidd care for Marika & Ranni genuinely, it’s a tragedy that they were born to bring “nothing but bale” to the person they love. Just like how Messmer, the beloved son in the Shadow, also became a curse to the person he loves the most in the end. That’s the doomed narrative they are trying to portray.
#er brainrot#the tragedy is THE LOVE WAS THERE !! it's just set up to be doomed by the narrative#not oh one party is unloved / mistreated by the other :(((((( gawddd#like gahhhh ok yeah sure think whatever u want but i'll sit on this reading of the lore#i were going to draw a comic about that which was why i been keeping my mouth shut about MaIiketh but the post i saw yesterday knocked me#tf out (a post in a wild analyzing Marika's actions with NUANCE and it's from someone i don't even know???? made my night fr)#so the feelings got out and i had to type this out
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last night i watched the first episode in supernatural and within 10 minutes i put it on pause because in NO way, through the 15 seasons, should anyone be happy with how dean's story ends with him dying whilst hunting
because in the 10 minutes that ive learnt about him is that he's spent his entire life fighting, and he dies FIGHTING
no satisfying narrative ends like that, especially not for one thats run for 15 years
#dean winchester#supernatural#supernatural meta#destiel#deancas#doomed by the narrative#except its not the elizabethan era anymore so why the eff are there still tragedies#but also ive not watched any other episodes of supernatural#I think he deserved a chance for something more#happiness#is that what the kids call it these days?
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doomed from the start.
twin peaks dir. david lynch // ptolemaea - ethel cain // yellowjackets opening sequence // the oresteia - aeschylus // road to hell (reprise) - hadestown // lake mungo dir. joel anderson // wolf in white van - john darnielle // planet of love - richard siken // neon genesis evangelion - "The Beginning and the End, or 'Knockin' on Heaven's Door'"
#doomed by the narrative#web weaving#tragedy#twin peaks#ethel cain#yellowjackets#hadestown#greek tragedy#lake mungo#richard siken#neon genesis evangelion#kaworu#mine
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Poirot + ruthlessness AGATHA CHRISTIE'S POIROT (1989 - 2013)
"And he is ruthless, ruthless with those who commit crime. And they will be brought to justice." - David Suchet, BFI Q&A, Nov 12 2013
#poirot#hercule poirot#david suchet#agatha christie#tvedit#perioddramaedit#tvandfilm#poirotedit#*edit#poirot 1x01: the adventure of the clapham cook#poirot 1x02: murder in the mews#poirot 1x07: problem at sea#poirot 2x04: the cornish mystery#poirot 5x05: the adventure of the italian nobleman#poirot 12x01: three act tragedy#the contrast between his small stature#and sweet gentlemanly nature#and his ability to absolutely ruin your life if he wanted#is terrifying & police would believe his word over yours#even if you were innocent (hypothetically)#because of his reputation and high standing#which he has used before to create certain narratives#he even says 'i am the law' in the novel 'curtain'#the contrasts & contradictions make him very appealing#an element of danger in a smol penguin detective#AND ALSO#imagine poirot aiming the ice-y glare at someone#who hurt and disrespected you#poirot will protect you and care for you <3
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Not gonna reblog the person answering a good-natured ask because I don't want to be That Person, so instead I'll just post this here.
The unsundered Ascians were tempered by Zodiark. This is canon. We get the optional dialogue (read: optional as in, "if you do not speak to the NPC that doesn't have the quest marker, you will miss this bit of dialogue/lore") from Emet-Selch himself during the Lv. 76 quest "Best Way Out." Image below.
#i understand that some people may hate this or think it cheapens the narrative#but it is absolutely canon#and ignoring it or dismissing it rather than grappling with the tragedy of it is in fact doing the characters and the story a disservice#ffxiv#shadowbringers
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The Tragedy of Hayakawa Aki - chainsaw man, tatsuki fujimoto
grief lessons: four plays by euripides, anne carson // chainsaw man, tatsuki fujimoto // deathless, catherynne m. valente // “untitled,” 2016, ink on paper, kara walker // james, clementine von radics // slide tackle, japanese breakfast // how to cure a ghost, fariha róisín // red glove, holly black // the letter, richard paul evans // interview with james hall, richard siken // ptolemaea, ethel cain // iq84, haruki murakami // the godfather, mario puzo // god's silence, franz wright // crush, richard siken // tumblr user ojibwe // when i was done dying, dan deacon
#csm#chainsaw man#hayakawa aki#aki hayakawa#webweaving#you know your girl is mentally unwell when she makes a webweaving post abt an anime character#web weaving#okay gonna spam every variataion fo teh spoilers tag now LOL#chainsaw man spoilers#csm spoilers#csm manga spoilers#chainsaw man manga spoilers#spoilers#hopefully that was enough#ANW#thinking about him SOOOO MUCHHH#man doomed by the narrative *twirls hair*#his character IS tragedy but i am still conflicted on which tragedy it is#was it inevitable? or was it preventable?#what is the hamartia in this story#is it a character flaw or his circumstances that were out of his control?#honestly think it can be viewed both ways#if he hadnt been so intent on revenge he wouldnt have ended up like this. but it was also circumstance bc makima is basically a god#but god gODD that last quote got me so good bc i was liek THATS LITERALLY IT#TAHTS AKI#anw after volume 9 i cried so many times after during the day and now im rotating him in my mind#my edit#EDIT: JUST READ A POST THAT SAID THAT GOOD TRAGEDY IS WHEN YOU CANT TELL WHETHER IT WAS CIRCUMSTANCE OR FLAW...#DROPPING TO MY KNEES....#thats it thats exactly it
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#this is a cry for help please i have loved this clown for over a decade#When Bruce says “I can fix him” I completely understand & not bc I want to fix him#but bc despite all the atrocities he has committed you can't help but feel compassion for him#Joker constantly struggles to not let himself be seen vulnerable but when he does oh God it breaks my heart#I wouldn't know what to do if I were aware that I'm being doomed by the narrative & i had no escape even in death#to have a fate as tragic as being forced to become a myth#a monster who abandons all traces of humanity to make sure that someone else never abandons his#A lonely man who lives in a world of the dead and must do as much harm as possible to the only living person before his eyes#After all horror and obsession leads backs to love. oh god imagine loving as much as he does#Love as something twisted as a source of tragedy and death as an addiction a wound that never stops bleeding and hurts more every day#All you want is to be free#But someone else is holding on to you and will never let u go bcz he is afraid of being alone#and without you the weight of the world he carries on his shoulders would kill him he needs u as much as u need him#both are going to drown together#anyways hahaha i luv this stupid clown#joker#the joker#batjokes#bcz i got carried away writing the tags :p
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#i could spend hours talking about how wonderfully unsettling some of the horror is#or how compelling all of the relationships are or how the narrative is such a perfectly constructed tragedy#but honestly instead you should just spend that time going and playing it yourself#little goody two shoes#lgts
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THERE WAS NO PLACE IN NATURE WE COULD MEET ; SUGURU GETO
synopsis; it’s never fun to run into an ex; especially when the ex in question is your unfairly handsome high school sweetheart. and just so happens to also be a wanted mass murderer.
word count; 3.3k
contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, geto-typical angst, exes to [redacted], lots of longing, geto is kind of a cunt but also disgustingly charming, reader is understandably upset, biblical imagery (i just think he’s so serpent coded), curse user geto is his own warning tbh
a/n; i wanted this to be a drabble so bad but it ended up just a little too long for me to get away w it so … :’3 yeah. i hate suguru geto (said w affection)
the moon is out.
in the shadows of the street corner you find yourself in, seated comfortably on the sidewalk, it’s a welcome distraction. something to look at, in the midst of your loneliness; the evanescent glow of the moon, illuminating your solitude.
a solitude soon to be broken. shattered into pieces, battered and bruised beyond recognition, jagged shards littering the asphalt. digging into the soles of your shoes.
”hey.”
for a second, you think you must be dreaming.
the figure obscuring the light of the lamp post in front of you is familiar. too familiar, a little too dear for your liking. as you grasp your shitty cup ramen, seeking the warmth seeping through the polystyrene, all you can do is stare. blinking dumbly, drowsily.
geto looks something like a bad omen.
sharp facial features, even sharper eyes. so dark they almost shift from an amber-tainted cedar into an obsidian black — two abysses, staring into your soul, beckoning you closer. they were always enchanting, but now you think they look almost hypnotizing. not at all in a good way. dark hair frames his face, cascading down his back, longer than you remember it being. and he’s wearing robes.
still has those fucked up bangs, though. of all the things to keep.
the gears of your mind turn, endlessly, untangling the mess of thoughts inside your brain. ensuring you that no, you are not hallucinating, and no, you didn’t fall into a deep slumber somewhere between the moment you exited the convenience store and sat down by one of tokyo’s empty street corners. this is real. a reality you can’t comprehend, can’t even begin to process.
what stands in front of you is a ghost. but ghosts don’t exist, can’t be seen, can’t touch the living.
(so how is he able to haunt you like this?)
what eventually jolts you out of your silent stupor is not the questioning tilt of his head, nor the suffocating sensation of your heart crawling up your throat, but the feeling of soft fur against your leg. the stray cat you met further down the street meows at you, sweetly, trying to get your attention. you think she must be asking for more grilled fish.
so, completely ignoring the apparition in front of you, you turn to reach for the little plastic bag you bought as a midnight snack — digging out a bit of fish for the kitty to enjoy. she seems happy, settling down by your feet. purring softly.
geto watches, eerily silent.
(maybe he’s upset that you’re ruining his dramatic entrance. you hope so.)
finally, you have no choice but to look at him. a lump forms in the back of your throat, clogging up a little more for every second spent falling into the trap he’s laid out for you, trailing over his moonlit features with your tired gaze.
mouth full of noodles, staring holes into his attire, you narrow your eyes. suddenly disgruntled.
his lips quirk up. ”something the matter?” he asks, and you can’t even begin to describe how much you hate his voice. how devastatingly deep it is, during the late hours of the night, even deeper than it was back in high school.
slurping up the soggy noodles, you lean back a little, licking some broth off your lips. finally meeting those abyssal eyes.
”… i was gonna say those robes look like shit on you,” comes an exhale, weary, ”but you actually kinda pull them off. that’s…”
a beat. you struggle to find the right word.
”annoying.”
geto’s lips curl up, smoothly, and you find a hint of familiar amusement in the vague crinkle of his eyes. barely visible crows’ feet. then he’s moving — plopping down right beside you, robes fluttering with the breeze.
”well, thank you.” he hums; crossing his legs.
the silence that festers around you is odd. not quite suffocating, nor especially fragile. definitely not comforting. it’s familiar, yet different, and it hurts a bit more than it should. but you choose to look at him, out of the corner of your eye, and he looks right back at you. still smiling that eerie smile.
when your eyes settle on the particular cloth wrapped around his torso, you just barely manage to bite back a taunting chuckle.
”a gojo-kesa, huh?” you grin, and geto doesn’t flinch. he doesn’t miss the meaningful glint in your eyes, either. ”you miss him that much?”
”just a coincidence,” is all he answers. smiling, but you think it looks a little stiff.
your grin widens, for a second, before settling back down. a sad transition. you let it go.
”whatever you say, geto.”
at that, he visibly reacts. barely noticeable, but it’s there — a twitch of his lithe fingers, an unknown something that flickers through the scope of his iris. when he looks at you, a neutral smile is playing at his lips.
”ah. i take it we’re not on first name basis anymore, then?” he asks, casually, hiding a tinge of something mildly displeased.
a shrug. you pick at what’s left of your ramen with your chopsticks, a little too nauseous to enjoy it. ”call me what you want. i just don’t see suguru when i look at you, y’know?” leaning forward, you begin to pet the kitty by your feet. ”he was sweeter.”
geto smiles. almost a grin, but not quite there. a chuckle spills out from his lips, and something about it irritates you. ”was he?”
”yeah,” you nod. without hesitation. a summer-stained memory blooms behind your eyelids, but you try not to look at it. all you catch is a glimpse of cherry blossoms. ”you just seem bitter.”
the grin that finds its way onto your lips is self-deprecating. a shadow falls over your face.
”guess we’re in the same boat, huh?”
a hum buzzes in his throat. he casts a meaningful glance towards your hand, scratching behind the cat’s ear. ”oh, i don’t know about that.” his smile grows with the drawl. ”.. you seem just as sweet as always.”
to your grave annoyance, you can’t control the way your face changes at his words. a twitch of your lips gives away your discontentment, and something sour settles on the tip of your tongue.
(your blood begins to boil, beneath your skin.)
geto sighs, suddenly, filling the tense silence between you — a little theatrical. ”ah, but that’s a shame.” he turns to you, soft pout playing at his lips. ”i was hoping i could hear you call me suguru again…”
”— i was hoping you’d come back.”
a beat.
somewhere outside your vision, a crow takes flight into the night sky. swallowed by darkness, melting into that sea of black. no longer perceivable, by you or the world.
”but you never did,” the polystyrene of the plastic cup crinkles beneath your fingers. your eyes look dull. ”so what the fuck do you want, exactly?”
…
”i heard.” geto rests his jaw on the heel of his palm, gazing at you with those piercing eyes. like he’s trying to see inside your brain. ”… about your decision.”
”ah,” a grin splits across the curve of your lips, showing off the white of your teeth. ”of course. that’s what this is about, huh?”
with groggy movements, you throw away your nearly-empty cup of noodles, haphazardly aiming towards a trash can across the street. it bounces off the steel cover, landing on the ground with a soft thud. leftover broth spilling out across the pavement. geto doesn’t bother to hide his amusement, lips twitching upwards before he sends a curse to eat it from the asphalt.
you furrow your brows in embarrassed annoyance.
a moment passes, and something in you knows that he’s waiting. it’s like you can practically sense it, like it’s etched into your bones. the same way you always knew exactly when he would begin to get impatient during your nightly convenience store runs back in high school — after you had spent about ten solid minutes struggling to decide what kind of chips you wanted.
”what can i say?” you lean back, palms against rough concrete, breathing in the midnight air. ”you inspired me.”
geto tilts his head. smiling. always, always smiling. he smiled at you the day before he massacred that village, too. ”oh?”
with a deep breath, cool air courses through your body. burning your lungs. ”i realized being a sorcerer is completely fucking meaningless,” you exhale through your nose. ”and that trying to change that fact is even more meaningless.”
a wicked, rueful grin rests on your lips. ”so i left.”
geto doesn’t say anything. you continue, voice dripping with venom.
”i’m a civilian now,” you purr, mocking, a sardonic coo on your tongue. ”does that bother you? feel like killing me?”
…
his smile looks a little off, now. tilted in a direction you don’t want to recognize. you don’t care to examine it further, don’t care to figure out if it might look just a little bit sad, because that’d only hurt more.
so you look away.
a click of his tongue. then he speaks, with that honeyed voice, raspy and husky. almost a groan. ”well, i can’t say i approve.”
he’s looking at you. sharp eyes digging into your skin, dissecting you, a million words he expects you to grasp from that look alone.
”you’re better than them,” he states, matter-of-factly, and you try not to squirm when his eyes trail over your features. ”worlds better.” his voice sounds almost motherly, a twisted concern that makes you cower a little. like he’s scolding you. a crease between his brows.
”i don’t like the thought of you surrounded by these animals.”
a huff pushes past your lips, but it sounds shakier than you’d like it to. you hope he just chalks it up to the chill of the air. then again, when has he ever made anything easy for you?
”what, you got a problem with cats now?” you reach for the little furball licking grilled fish off the concrete, picking it up. cradling it close. ”gonna go on a cat-killing spree?”
an amused exhale. geto narrows his eyes. ”funny,” he hums, but his eyes say you know what i mean.
it takes you a moment to regain control over your breathing. there’s still something tense in your shoulders, and your heart still feels a little like it might jump out of your throat and crawl into his lap. the stray cat slips from your grasp, moving towards geto, curiously sniffing at his robes. he looks at it with no ill intent, and it puts you at ease.
”well, i appreciate the concern, buddy,” you pat his back, trying not to flinch at the contact. trying to appear relaxed. ”but frankly, i don’t give a shit. i actually like my job, unlike literally every single sorcerer on planet earth.”
geto stills.
”.. buddy?” he echoes, ignoring every other bitter word you just graced him with. for some reason, he actually seems visibly bothered. ”i’m buddy now?”
you click your tongue. muttering, tiredly. a little exasperated. ”.. what else would you be?”
and then he smiles, again. only this time, it looks oddly genuine. the same as you remember, framed by cherry blossoms and the fizzle of youth.
his movements are smooth. like he’s completely unguarded, like this situation doesn’t bother him in the slightest. elegant, in the way he leans back, palms on the concrete to support his weight. keeping eye contact with you, all the while.
when he speaks, his voice has a sweet tinge to it. nostalgic, maybe. wistful. if you hear a touch of longing, you choose to ignore it.
”i seem to recall you calling me baby quite a lot,” he hums, and you stiffen. gritting your teeth. eyes darkening, but he continues. ”what else was there? angel, i think… it was sweet.”
then he’s leaning forward. scratching the cat under its chin, gently. ”ironic, though.”
an inhale. then, an exhale. they’re a little shaky, a little meek, but at least they make the lump in your throat feel less like it’s blocking your windpipe. air fills your lungs, but it tastes like nothing at all.
something like sorrow simmers in your eyes. or maybe more like fatigue. god, you really want to cry.
(you wonder if he gets some sickening satisfaction out of seeing you like this, out of breaking you. maybe it just makes him feel rotten. you don’t know what you’d prefer.)
”suguru,” you murmur, at last. voice dripping with exhaustion. defeated, the sigh that flows from your lips. ”why did you come here?”
…
”join me.”
the words spill out into the open air, slicing the silence in half. heavy. a request, not a question. against your better judgement, you turn your head to meet his gaze.
”we could use you,” he says, and there’s hope in those keen eyes. he maintains his distance, but for some reason you still feel like prey being sized up by a predator. like he’s weighing your value.
a chuckle slips from your lips, but there’s no humour to it. ”use me…” you echo, a tired murmur under your breath. ”you're just straight up admitting it, huh? kinda refreshing.”
”that’s not what i meant.”
he inches closer. slowly, as if trying not to scare you. reaching out, to brush through your bangs, his fingertips ghosting over your skin. tangling them between your locks, inserting himself into your space. testing the waters.
you don’t look at him, completely still. barely breathing. like a wounded animal.
”i want you there,” he says, and it comes out almost as a whisper. ”with us.”
unable to resist the temptation, you indulge in a single brief glance his way. his eyes look warm, and his lips look soft as they part.
”with me.”
there’s a devotion to his voice when he continues, one he’s always had. one you thought you’d always be able to trust. ”i’ll create a world where you can be happy,” he vows. ”i swear it.”
a moment passes.
(you swallow thickly. it takes everything you have not to burst into tears. when you remember how he brushed you off, back then, it gets a little easier. when you remember all the skipped meals.)
”.. like you give a damn.”
geto smiles. you loathe how soft it looks, how similar it is to the one suguru always had. when you used to eat your ramen too quickly and started choking on it, and he brought a palm to your upper back, patting it gently. he’d chuckle, and tell you to slow down, and the softness of his smile would almost be enough to distract you from the amusement in his eyes.
”my love.”
you flinch. breath drawing back at the base of your throat, heart screeching to a halt, and some part of you emerges; the shy, sweet kid you used to be. hanging on to his every world. like he was your sun, your guiding light. back when that purr of my love had you blushing furiously, not choking back a string of curses.
it’s sudden, and you can’t react the way you want to. you want to kill him for calling you that. for thinking he has any right to call you his, anymore.
but that sweet, naive, innocent little kid still exists. even if you want to pretend otherwise. it’s there, somewhere, that part of you — peeking out from behind the curtain. and it stops you from saying anything that might hurt him.
(it’s so hard to hate him when he calls you that.)
if geto notices your inner turmoil — he must — then he doesn’t mention it. you don’t say anything, but you hope the amused, harsh exhale you partake in is signal enough for him to cut it off. now.
yet he continues. there’s love in his voice when he speaks, barely contained. if he’s trying not to hurt you he’s doing an awful job.
”… i never stopped thinking of you,” he whispers, so low you almost miss it. ”not once. i left for you, not just for myself.”
and, despite every part of your being resisting it, a sweetness settles on your tongue. so sweet it’s sickening; the thought that maybe he’s telling the truth, maybe he really has been thinking of you. maybe you’re more to him than just a means to meet an end, or a memory yet to be buried.
geto looks at the moon. bathed in moonlight, he looks a little like a god. like something reverent. his voice is honeyed. low, like a secret.
”this world doesn't deserve you.”
silence.
a subtle anger trickles through your veins, a kind of fury, subdued, carefully tucked away. sparking to life inside the depths of your eyes when you look at him. bitter, given everything. but your voice still comes out sounding something like a plea.
”and you think you do?”
another smile. this time, it looks a little sad. remorseful, maybe. ”… let me prove myself.”
his touch burns. the pads of his fingers against your cold skin, cupping your cheek. slithering down to grasp your hand. and you’re pliant, unable to react. just sitting with that aching hollow feeling in your chest.
”i wasn’t worthy, back then,” he hums, bringing your hand to his lips. ”but now…”
a kiss to your knuckle. featherlight. reverent. you try not to shiver, but when he says your name, dragging each syllable out, like they belong on his tongue —
a chill runs down your spine.
when he speaks, you feel his warm breath on your skin. it’s dizzying. ”i’m not the same suguru you once knew,” he admits, a forlorn look in his eyes. and devotion, frighteningly sincere. ”unlike him — i’ll never let you go.”
what a twisted desire. he wants to take you with him, drag you down to hell. the suguru you knew wouldn’t put you through that. but maybe you’re even more twisted, for wishing he had; for wishing he had taken you with him, ten years ago, instead of leaving without a single goodbye.
geto’s voice is soft. coaxing, like he's handling a frightened mouse. join me, he whispers, and you think of eve. when you look at his mouth you think you see serpents’ teeth behind his lips.
(you're almost sure he notices it. and you're almost sure his smile widens, lips curling up, as if preparing to open his maw and swallow you whole.)
a sickening sense of resignation roots itself somewhere in your gut.
you pull your hand away, and he lets you. the loss of warmth hits you like a freight train, but you aren’t sure you could think clearly with his skin on yours. when you part your lips to speak, only air comes out, just barely forming a sentence. like there are no more words to say. like the world stopped spinning around you both a lifetime ago.
”i don't love you.”
…
for just a second, his smile falters.
”no?” he hums, and you wish it didn’t hurt so bad to see him hurt. his eyes carry a kind of patience, something gentle. ”it’s fine… these things take time.”
a bitter chuckle. ”like you’d know anything about waiting,” you spit, and it comes out sounding venomous. a phantom ache sprouts in the spot where his lips touched your skin.
geto closes his eyes.
”you don't need to love me,” he says, finally. kind. you hate that he still sounds so kind. so understanding, like nothing you do could be wrong in his eyes. ”as long as you're beside me, that's enough.”
he turns to look at you, and his smile looks very real, for a moment. impossibly fond. ”i have two daughters. i’ve told them about you,” he smiles. ”my family… you’d like them. i know they’d like you.”
dark clouds cover the moon, suddenly, and a shadow falls across you both. illuminated only by the streetlight. in the distance, you hear a car whooshing by.
”don’t stay at the bottom,” he beckons, and your name slips from his lips again. soft, his tongue bending around the vowels. coaxing. stirring your heartstrings like a puppeteer.
then he’s standing up, dusting off his robes, large hands smoothing down the fabric. turning around, towering over you; obscuring everything else. all you see is him, under the glow of the lamp post. a halo of artificial light.
”come. let me show you the world we can create.”
he gives you a sweet smile, two abysses gazing into you. the promise of something twisted, new, forbidden. you think of red skin and yellow flesh; the bite of sin.
and for a second, you see it. the world. a world where laughter comes from the bottom of your gut, and the trees are always ripe for picking, red apples hanging from the branches like glowing rubies. a world where sweetened fruit never give way to rot.
paradise.
geto stretches a hand out towards you. fingers unfurling, one by one, like a blooming camellia. close, right there in front of you, so close that you’re tempted to take his hand in yours, let him carry you away. burn everything else to the ground.
(you think of the serpent. you think of god.
only one of them banished eve.)
”so,” he smiles. ”what do you say?”
#i just think curse user geto is soooo ……#hes so. hes just so#he has this undeniable softness and hes genuinely a very sincere man. but he just comes across as extremely insincere#n kinda.. suffocating? like just one look from him to you makes u wanna hide. even though hes so coaxing and gentle and eager to care for u#he just has that ’doomed by the narrative’ swagger yknow? the ’distinct air of tragedy’ charm#anyways im completely obsessed and i fear i would fold instantly rip to all non sorcerers#title taken from ’half-light’ by frank bidart btw read it its so good . very stsg coded#geto x reader#geto x you#geto x y/n#suguru geto#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto x you#suguru geto x y/n#geto angst#jjk x reader#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n
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