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s4lv4tions · 1 year ago

Text

numerology; nsfw

pairing; gojo satoru x reader / gojo satoru x geto suguru (past) / geto suguru x reader (past) summary; numerology — the belief in an occult, divine or mystical relationship between a number and one or more coinciding events. or: trying to move on. wc; 13.4k cw; death, angst, requited unrequited love, violence, smut (at the very end, but mentions throughout), canon divergence, spoilers for manga an; if you think you've read this before, you probably have! i posted this on my old tumblr a year or so ago, and it's still available on my ao3. this version is slightly updated and edited, but still diverges from canon as it was created at the start of the culling games arc :)

The first time you bathe with Satoru, he cries.

You don't notice at first; he's quiet — abnormally so —, and his face remains pristine, unchanged. The only hint you get is a small, barely audible sniffle that stops as quickly as it starts — and you think he wants it that way. You don't think he's ever cried in front of anyone.

That's why you don't say anything. Just continue washing the suds from his hair, and pretend that the tears rolling down his cheeks are beads of water dripping from his hair — but you take extra care to massage the conditioner in, and peck his cheek as you finger-comb through silky, cloud-white strands.

It occurs to you afterwards — as he lounges on your bed, scrolling through channels with a wayward hand planted on his stomach — that perhaps, it's the first time somebody has taken care of him. The first time ever, or just the first time since… since…

Geto Suguru's face smiles up at you from your vanity — a tiny polaroid, his face no bigger than the nail of your thumb. Beside him, Satoru grins, cheeky and bright-eyed — you don't think he's ever been any different —, and in the corner, the smudge of your thumb covers the lens. You don’t have to lift the photo and check the back to know what’s written there, in your scratchy, looping scrawl; the strongest, 2006.

"Lord of the Rings?" Satoru calls, carefree as ever. A yawn catches in his throat, and his fingers slip underneath his shirt to scratch absentmindedly at his chest. "Ooh, haven't seen this one yet…"

"Uh, yeah. Sure."

It was a better time. Less pain. Less responsibility. Less death — or maybe the same amount, just shielded by the blinding cover of childhood inexperience. Suguru was still alive and burning bright, Satoru was happy (happier. He didn't cry in the bath, at least). Shoko didn’t self-medicate as intensively as she does now. The days were spent in childish ignorance and stupid indulgence, and even when things seemed their darkest, you never lost hope.

(It probably says a lot about you that, if given the chance, you wouldn't return. Whether that's because of what you know is bound to happen, and the pain is too much to experience again, or because you're so utterly pathetic that you'll take sadness and grief and a tiny shred of affection over… whatever it is you were back then, you don't know. A smudge in the corner of a picture of the jujutsu world's greatest.)

Suguru's eyes seem to burn into you. You turn the picture over, and rejoin Satoru on your bed.

"It's been two years."

Satoru doesn't like to talk after sex. Not in any way that's really meaningful, you mean, nothing that lets you in. He loves jokes, empty small talk, work politics. Chatter that's deep enough to show he cares a little without bearing any part of himself — your injury healed up? When was the last time you had a break? There's a new teppanyaki place in Shinjuku, I'll treat you. Don't work yourself too hard, you'll put me out of business!

If you're being honest, you didn't go into this expecting anything more than a person to scratch an itch with.

You're already friends — though, you're not sure friends totally encapsulates what Satoru is to you, romantic or platonic. You've been friends since you were 12. Satoru, Suguru, you — and then Shoko, when you all met in your first year at Jujutsu Tech. That's how it's always been.

You swear sometimes you know him better than yourself. You swear sometimes it's his voice you think with. Is that what "friends" encompasses? Somehow, it doesn't seem enough.

Whatever. The point is that your relationship with Satoru is already strong; foundations tall and proud and unshakeable. You didn't start fucking Satoru in the hopes of forming a relationship — one was already there.

It's just... Satoru is young, yes, and he enjoys flirting, but (contrary to common belief) he's not all that keen to sleep with the first person who's willing. You don’t say this with the belief that you’re special. It’s just that with work, and especially with — y'know, his… romantic history, Satoru hasn’t found the time or will to just sleep around. At least, according to him.

Sheer willpower isn't enough to make those urges go away, though, and… well, you had them too, and you were willing, and he trusts you. And you'll take anything he'll give you, really, even if it's just scraps. Even if sometimes it makes you feel worse.

Today's one of those days.

You feel sick, after. Not because of him — because of yourself. Your polaroid of Getou and any other photo he's in has been turned over, anything that could remind you of him tucked away, but — but he's everywhere today, everywhere, and you'd fucked Satoru despite it. And Satoru is covered in memories of Getou, of course. Every freckle, every shifting of muscle, every jut of bone — did Getou touch him here? Caress every bit of him he could get his hands on? Tangle his hands in his snow-white hair, breathe against his collarbone?

When you came, you cried. Pretended it was just because it was so intense, but behind your eyelids, dark, cat-like eyes stared back.

"Hm?" Satoru hums as if he didn't hear you, eyes fixed on the TV. Dumb doesn't suit him — it's honestly a bit of an insult for him to even try it. Like you didn't sense the stiffness of his limbs the second he'd stepped inside, or the crumbling edge of his smile, or the way he'd forced you to love him harder — pull his hair harder, scratch his back deeper, his Infinity turned off and his skin yours for the marking.

Satoru's mannerisms are scribed into your brain. You catch yourself emulating them, sometimes; hands waving, head tilting, grin wide and posture open. You wear it like an oversized coat, an ill-fitting costume, and sometimes you wish you could stop taking on pieces of him. The more you take, the more you must throw away — and it's Suguru that your memory discards. You find yourself forgetting how he hummed when he woke up from a nap, or filled his cheeks with food like a hamster; how he scrunched his face up when he laughed, pretty all the while…

The point is that even with his incredible knowledge, his awesome strength, the sheer holiness of his existence — you know Satoru. And the fact that he came to you today isn't mere coincidence.

You decide to come out with it. You've tiptoed around it for 24 months, give or take, had a shockingly brief mourning period before the jujutsu world forced you along, and… even with what he did, Suguru deserves better. "Suguru died today."

A beat of silence. Then:

"Mm, I guess he did."

You'd spent the day staring out at the grey sky, the miserable sight of soaked pavement. Grey, grey, grey. Concrete jungle. Heavy rain clouds and an ocean of multicoloured umbrellas, bobbing and rolling to destinations unknown. You hadn't said it aloud; hadn't even thought of it, specifically. The knowledge of it had just sat over your head like a thick, sweltering fog — and if you know Satoru at all, you know that he'd done the same. Maybe he hid it better.

You don't have to look now to know that his lips are pressed thin. You find the sudden thought of looking him in the eyes daunting, anyways, so you turn onto your side, back facing him, and pick mindlessly at the sheets. You don't want to see what his reaction will be when you say—

"Did you know that I loved him — back then?"

You don't want to see the shock, or the confusion — and you'd rather not see a lack of them, either. What's worse, you wonder — him knowing and loving Suguru too, or not knowing and loving him?

"...Yes."

You screw your eyes shut and try to will away the sudden surge of cold, like a sharpened dagger to your chest.

(It turns out that knowing is much more painful.)

Suguru Geto had been the apple of your eye ever since you'd met. 11 and gangly and stupid in a way that all children were always stupid, Suguru had been a bit kinder than his white-haired counterpart. Satoru, being Satoru Gojo, had grown up with no fear of authority, no mindfulness for his less-powerful peers as anything more than people who existed around him. You and Suguru were allowed the title of friends, but very few were. Anyway — he grew out of that mindset, of course, but your fondness for Suguru stayed.

(Though they'd always seemed to be on another level than you — not even just in terms of power, but… just caught up in each other, always. Suguru had only ever wanted Satoru. And vice versa.)

And then Suguru changed. Right under your nose, he changed, and his sudden quietness made sense. His fatigue. The way his hands would always shake when swallowing an exorcised curse, always had since you were kids, and then suddenly they were ingested with a scary calm. Nobody understands the taste of curses. Not even you, not even when he’d explained it in sickening detail.

You sigh, then. Tired and lethargic and not from physically straining yourself for an hour. This is bone-deep, soul-weary. It's been held in for 730 days, or maybe more. Maybe you've carried it with you since birth. "I never apologised."

"For what?" Satoru asks — and he laughs, jolly, and the sound fits awkwardly in his throat. A clear attempt at feigning indifference, but he's a bad liar. He always has been, because he's never needed to lie. Perks of being the strongest, you guess. You can just come out and say shit — and if you can't, not saying anything technically isn’t lying.

"I hated you, after," you confess. You dig your thumbnail hard intoyour pinky finger, taking momentary refuge in the sharp shock of pain. "I couldn't stand to look at you. When I did, I saw… I saw what you did. What you had, and what you had thrown away. I blamed you for Suguru. I blamed everyone except Suguru."

Another snicker, a bit too humourless. "You can't stand to look at me now."

"I…" You don't know what to say to that.

Truth is, you don't want to see his face. Contorted in pity, or disgust, or sadness for you. You've gotten used to living in his shadow — most everyone has — but that doesn’t ease the ever-present blanket of insecurity that you carry around your shoulders. It doesn’t dull the ache of inferiority you’ve been housing in your chest from the moment you were saddled with your technique. As you aged, you got better at hiding it, and you generally prefer your self-pity to go unnoticed, but Satoru—

He could always read you like a book. And you hated it. You hated being pitied by someone who was as powerful as him — someone as close to God as one could get. It was demeaning. Patronising. It makes you feel like a child again, bowing your head as your mother makes excuses for you.

You shift over — onto your back, and then onto your other side — and you look at him. You force yourself. Blankets pooled around his waist, his skin so pale it could be translucent, eyes icy blue and framed with fluffy white.

"You were forced to do it," you murmur. Your eyes remain trained on his chin — his are much too bright, much too all-seeing for comfort. "If you hadn't, he would've gotten worse. He never would have stopped. You knew that, you always did. It… took me a while to come to terms with it."

Satoru sighs. Then, he slumps down so that — like you — his head rests flat on the pillow, and his body arcs towards yours. He's forced himself into your sights again, in a way that’s gentle, but not so much that you wouldn't be able to figure out what he's doing: forcing you to face him.

"Would it have made you feel better," Satoru begins, reaching forward to brush his fingers against your chin, "if you were there when I did it?"

Would it have?

Would it have given you closure? Would you no longer spend your nights wondering what he'd looked like, what his last words were, his last thoughts? If he had spittled and roared in anger, if he had wept in fear, if he had attempted a smile, a joke? If he thought of you, or if you were just another insignificant blip in his radar?

In your mind, Suguru exists as his 17 year old self — smiling and mischievous, polite yet humorous. He puts extra broccoli on your plate and gently berates you to eat more. He tells you that you're a precious part of the team, that none of them would be who they are without you. He calls you crybaby because you always wear your heart on your sleeve, and tells you not to worry about things you cannot change.

Change what you can. Forget the rest and leave it to me, crybaby.

The bubbling hatred that had festered inside him has no place in your head. You want him to stay as he is, your Suguru that was never yours, shining like gold in your mind.

"No. He hated me at the end, I think," you say quietly. For a second, you dare to meet his eyes — bright and pointed in how they stare at you. You know he can see the tears that have begun to burn in your waterline, the way you ball your fists so hard you dig half-moon into your skin. He doesn’t need to be blessed with the Six Eyes to see.

"I wasn't interested in changing the world like he was, even with my Technique. That made him despise me, I think."

Satoru stares for a few more seconds. You wonder what he's thinking about. A second in your time is a lifetime in Satoru's; he must be thinking hard.

But he blinks, at last; sighs so deeply that his chest caves in with it, before he winds an arm around your waist and pulls you close, bare chest to bare chest, only atomic space between you.

There's nothing sexual about it. You're nothing but bones and skin and blood, here. He moulds your head to his shoulder with one large hand and cocoons you in his embrace, warm. Protected. You're not sure who the action is meant to comfort.

And just when you think the conversation is over — just when minutes have passed with nothing but the sound of the TV between you both — he speaks.

"Suguru could never hate you. Trust me."

You don't want to know what that means. You're only beginning to get over it, two years later.

Satoru is holding three onigiri in one hand, and two Starbucks' cups in the other — extra sugar, extra cream, extra ice, extra unicorn-marketing, just the way you both like it.

"There she is!" Is the first thing he says as he meets you just outside the metro, grinning.

It's sweltering hot today — the sun had risen early and would surely set late, and Satoru seems to be taking advantage of it. Gone is his Jujutsu Tech uniform and thick blindfold, but he's stuck with the all-black theme like he usually does — black jeans, black linen shirt, black socks and shoes. Even the frames of his sunglasses are black.

(Handsome. He's handsome. He's always been handsome — years later, you'd think you'd stop feeling the effects of it.)

Lucky for him. You're not, y'know, the strongest sorcerer in the last century, so there's no leeway for you — and even in your summer uniform, the skirt and short-sleeved blouse, you're sweating. Your only respite is that the combined force of you and Satoru will mean this mission is going to be a breeze.

Satoru tsks. "Took your time. I almost ate your onigiri."

A man nearby jogs past, clearly in a rush, and Satoru has to step closer to you to avoid him. He could've stayed still. He wouldn't have touched him, anyway, with his Limitless.

"And you would've had to buy another, genius."

A pout. "You only love me for my bank account, don't you?"

(He's joking. It's a joke.

But your hand shakes — a miniscule tremor — as you reach out to take one of the cups, and you know he sees it because he's Satoru and he sees everything. You turn away as quickly as you can, setting off in the direction of whatever place it is you're here for, and pretend that the fact that he can say it so casually doesn't kinda fucking hurt.

(He could never say it like that with Suguru — so bluntly, so crassly. Not without softened eyes and softened smiles and a gentle tilt of his head — those are mannerisms reserved only for him, never to be seen again. Instead, you get snickers and digs in the arm and teasing pulls of your hair. Of course it’s a joke. That’s all you are.

Perhaps you should just be grateful for what you get. Perhaps you should try to stop comparing yourself to a man you once loved. Perhaps you should try to stop comparing yourself to a dead man. Perhaps, in the end, you just love the pain of it all.))

"Yeah," you reply, taking a large, sugary sip. "And don't you forget it, either."

Satoru catches up to you quickly, effortlessly; his arm flops around your shoulder as he tugs you in the opposite direction, chastising you for going the wrong way — but it stays there long after it needs to.

Itadori Yuuji — Sukuna's dead-but-not-really vessel — thinks your cursed technique is powerful. He thinks it’s amazing that you can use reverse cursed technique — you must be really powerful, right? Gojo-sensei says you’re special grade. He also thinks you're very pretty. He tells you this over his fourth grilled pork belly wrap — this one bursting at the seams with kimchi, garlic, and roasted sesame seeds.

He doesn't say it in a flirtatious way — it's just an observation to him, simple and blunt, and you figure he has about as much of a filter as Satoru does.

"O-oh," you say, metal tongs frozen over the sizzling meat. "Thank you, Yuuji."

You had briefly met him for the first time before his death — Nobara, too. Megumi, the third piece of the golden trio, has been something of a little brother ever since Satoru had taken him in, and you know him well enough to know that Yuuji's death (or lack thereof) is weighing on him terribly.

(There are too many parallels you could make. Suguru and Satoru. Haibara and Nanami.)

Hiding it does make you feel guilty. To experience that grief, that loss — even if it will soon go away when Yuuji rejoins jujutsu society — isn’t something to take lightly. But Yuuji needs a guide that isn’t completely off the rails. Satoru and you balance each other out, and balance seems to be something Yuuji needs.

He reminds you terribly of Satoru when he was younger. Maybe that's why you have such a fond spot for him — he's too goofy and well-meaning and genuine to dislike.

"Why are you acting surprised?" Gripes Satoru, chewing with his mouth open. "I tell you that all the time."

Your eyes narrow. You place a perfectly cooked slice of marinated beef on his plate. "You're you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He whines. "We're best friends, crybaby!"

"You don't say I'm powerful. You say I'm helpful. There's a difference. And don’t call me that."

"Is there?" Satoru asks, turning to Yuuji for guidance. The teen boy shrugs, preoccupied by assembling his newest monstrosity. "I call you pretty, too."

"Yeah, when—"

When you're eight inches deep in me, face buried in my neck, trying to get yourself off. Your cheeks flush with warmth at the thought, and you shut your mouth. Yuuji doesn't notice your slip up, busy as he is; Satoru does completely, and fixes you with a grin so sharp that you vow to not give him any more meat until Yuuji is completely full.

"It's not the same," you say, voice final. It's a lighthearted lunch. You don't want to ruin it by getting touchy over semantics, and that's exactly what'll happen if you keep going. "You say it to reward me. Like tossing a dog a bone."

You reach for the scissors to snip the meat into little pieces — and in doing so, you miss the brief frown that presses against Satoru's brow.

Neither of you say anything more on the matter.

Satoru has known you for five years when he realises that he resents you. Not completely, and not for one particular or solid reason, either. He prefers not to think about it, in any case, because you're one of his closest friends — and even at 17, he knows that that's hard to come by. Especially as the Strongest.

Satoru stares up at his ceiling; stares at the miniature striations only he can see, the starburst-shaped gyrations of clay used to finish it off.

Tonight, he's thinking about it. And many other things.

He hates that you're so hesitant about everything — he hates that you believe yourself so weak that you have to tiptoe. You, with your reverse cursed technique — which is a feat in and of itself — that could transcend time and space, just like he could. A technique passed down for hundreds and hundreds of years, accumulating power all the while…

(Your technique has lots of rules and regulations, of course. A handicap, and he understands it frustrates you, but his own frustration eclipses his understanding. Why should someone so strong feel anything but their own strength?)

He hates that you curl in on yourself when you're sad, or lonely, or angry. He hates that you wear your heart on your sleeve — he's never allowed himself to, not fully. He can't, never fully, because there are people who are watching him, people who hate him, people who want him dead. He can joke. He can make his political desires clear — but he can’t love like he wants to, and God forbid he cries.

He hates that you close your eyes and bask when it's sunny, like a cat in a sunspot; hates that you remember that he doesn't like chicken wings and prefers thighs; he especially hates that you watch over Suguru like it's your job, when Suguru doesn't need it.

And some part of Satoru hates Suguru, too. It was strange for him to come to terms with it, fond of him as he is, but as he grows Satoru realises that there's no love of his that isn't closely affiliated with hate. It makes the love all the more strong.

Satoru, for one, dislikes how polite Suguru is, even when he doesn't need to be. He hates that Suguru becomes a straight-faced, unfeeling thing when he's upset, and tries to hide it — the emptiness in his eyes unsettles him like nothing else.

Most of all, above all, Satoru hates that Suguru loves you, crybaby, and is too pussy to do shit about it. Satoru doesn't understand why, anyways, because he'd made it clear that if he wanted, Suguru could have you both and Satoru wouldn't care. Usually, the thought would offend him. How can you love someone when you already love me? When you've already sworn yourself to me? You already have the strongest, who else do you need?

But… he doesn't know. He kinda understands. You're precious to him, too, after all, sunflower soaking up the sun.

Like he said: there's no love of his that isn’t closely affiliated with hate.

Six and a half hours after the hours-long meeting that followed the ruined School Goodwill Event, you find yourselves in a diner somewhere in Harajuku. It’s one of those weird fusion places, loaning ornamentation and tokens from classic American diners, serving omurice with fries, sushi with mashed potatoes, with a cute little mascot that looks like Elvis. It’s loud enough and bright enough to make you feel timeless. It's a sensation you can appreciate.

Something’s been telling you that time’s ticking, and you’re not quite sure what it is. Trauma, probably. Anxiety. The fact that curses have been banding together, learning spoken language, amassing power — planning an attack on Jujutsu Tech, gaining intelligence, gaining anger.

Satoru doesn’t say it — doesn’t want to say it — but you think it’s unnerved him, too. The last time outsiders entered school grounds was… two years ago, wasn’t it? It’s crazy. Everything always seems to lead back to Suguru.

The attack has fueled something in both of you, anyways; something that makes you both stay up instead of knocking out like you usually do; something that makes you both hungry and restless and liable to travel across Tokyo past midnight. By public transport, no less. No warping or high-speed flying for you, tonight.

But you appreciate it. And you think that Satoru is taking things slow for the same reasons you want to — to take things in, to appreciate what you never think to appreciate. To admire the mundane, even for a little while. Satoru’s less emotionally attached to the jujutsu-less aspects of life than you are — bullet trains and waiting in line and standing on the train platform, escalators and traffic — but he enjoys them all the same when he has time to. And it’s not often The Strongest gets to experience pure, genuine normality, too, so maybe sitting in this gaudy diner and watching the world pass you by is a luxury he rarely affords himself.

He orders the most complicated drink they have — a sakura-caramel milkshake topped with whipped cream, glacé cherries, and an entire slice of cheesecake. He’s down to the last dregs of melting cream within 10 minutes, swiping fries from your plate between sips, ignoring your chides of rotten teeth and high blood sugar.

Blindfold swapped for glasses. Strands of hair drifting down against his forehead.

You’re always reminded at the worst times of how handsome he is. It’s not like it’s a secret, or he’s unaware of it — and he takes pride in his looks, if his extensive skincare shelf and general attitude is anything to go by — but he puts much more stock in his strength, in his usefulness to others, his intelligence. The things he can provide for others. Not many people realise that.

Maybe you shouldn’t act so high and mighty. It’s not like you don’t appreciate his appearance as much as the next person — hell, half the time you’re trying to stop it from distracting you — but maybe you get a pass. Y’know, as a person who actually has reason to marvel over the stretch of his neck and the flush of his cheeks and how his lips go the prettiest pink when you kiss him. Or the cords of muscle along his arms; the slender-yet-thick bands of muscle of his chest and legs. The large, veiny expanse of hand — slim, delicate fingers wrapped around a paper straw…

"Are you gonna eat those?" Says Satoru, slurping obnoxiously. “Haven't eaten since dinner."

You push the basket across the table, uncharacteristically void of argument. "Go crazy."

Satoru sets his empty glass aside, but the straw remains in one hand. The other he uses to pluck up fries, 4 or 5 at a time, his gaze suddenly fixed on you as he chews nonchalantly.

"Y'know," he says, licking salt from his fingertips, jabbing the straw in your direction, "I can always tell when you're horny."

"Excuse me?"

"You squirm," Satoru continues — matter-of-fact, casual, as if he's talking about the weather. "And you get quiet.”

“I’m a quiet person,” you snap, nails pressing against your palms under the table. “Sorry I know when to shut the fuck up—”

“And then you get flustered. And when you’re flustered, or embarrassed, you get angry.” He raises his hand — signals the cute waitress for another basket of fries, and leans back with his arms splayed along the back of the booth. “Don’t look so surprised! How long have we known each other?”

If you were a better person, you’d probably admit that yes, he’s right. You do get quiet when you’re horny, and you do get angry when you’re flustered — if you were a worse person, though, you’d remark on how you're the first person he crawls to when he’s sad, or overwhelmed. How getting you into bed and losing yourselves in each other is a sort of therapy for him. How he always tries to distract you with cheeky grins and sly, flirty comments, but then afterwards he cries in the bath as you clean him up.

You don't say that, obviously. Seems like a pretty shitty thing to bring up today of all days. He'd probably deny it anyways, but you don't think it's a coincidence that the attack has left him restless and he obviously wants to take you home.

The new fries are delivered to the table, but he looks right past them. He bows his head slightly, glasses slipping a little further down his nose so that his white-framed eyes peek over the top of them.

"Let's warp home," Satoru says — and oh. There's that voice. That drop in tone, that lack of boisterous humour he always employs. It's soft enough to have goosebumps rising on the back of your arms, smooth enough to have you squirming — yes, squirming, you admit it — in your seat. "Alright?"

"Yes." And it's embarrassingly breathless, and embarrassingly quick, but Satoru doesn't tease you. Just smiles, raises a hand for the bill, and watches you all the while.

You count seven stitches in the forehead of Geto Suguru.

Count, because it's all you can do. Everything else is lost to you.

Breathing.

Standing.

It feels like even your heart has stalled. Because—

Because—

Because Geto Suguru is dead. Dead, in the ground, no longer breathing, no longer living. Satoru had killed him. Satoru had demolished him.

The lips of the Geto in front of you twist — a sickening, stomach-turning imitation of the smile you once adored. On his face it's a sneer, a mockery. Your Suguru did not smile like this when you knew him.

"Hello," he greets pleasantly. His arms are hidden within the sleeves of his yukata. Hair down. Suguru always tended to wear his hair up, unless he was fresh out of the shower. Unless he was upset. It was too much hassle to take care of. You know when he took over the Time Vessel Association and donned the gojo-kesa he began wearing it down. "_____ _____, yes?"

You can't answer. Your ears are ringing. Your stomach gives a worrying lurch that winds up your throat — you think you're going to be sick.

How? Why? Who — who is this in front of you? Because it's not Geto, not Suguru — and you don't say that because of longing or a pathetic desire for ignorance. This thing feels wrong. Inherently, blasphemously wrong. Looking at him for too long makes your cursed energy prickle. Seeing Suguru's image painted in such slimy, rancid energy has you gasping for breath.

Satoru, your mind whispers. Satoru needs to know.

He should. He needs to. But this pseudo-Geto does not look friendly in the slightest, and you are isolated.

Looking back, it had seemed fine to go alone to exorcise curses in the belly of Tokyo's metro. Taking old service tunnels and eventually entering abandoned tracks hadn't felt scary. You're a semi-special grade sorcerer with years of experience under your belt and a powerful cursed technique that could get you out of most, if not all, pinches, restrictions and regulations be damned.

"I'm sure you're very confused. I apologise, really…"

The reality of the situation hits you. Maybe hit is the wrong word — it doesn’t come as a bloody, stinging smack in the face. It’s a trickle of ice-cold water down the nape of your neck, drawing dread from your head all the way into the pit of your stomach. You don't think this is a pinch you'll come out of — at least not battered half to death, especially when a silver-haired curse decorated with stitches steps out from behind pseudo-Geto. The curse Kento had fought. The one that he said to look out for. Patchwork.

Immediately, you know fighting isn't an option. But what else is there to do, in the face of pseudo-Geto and his silver-haired, sentient curse? Your technique may not be limitless in your possession, but in theirs? If they did to you what they did to so many others — transfiguring you past the point of recognition, stealing your body and technique, desecrating your corpse with cursed energy…

"I can feel it from here," titters the curse excitedly. "So warm… I have to have it! Her soul, I have to have it!"

Fuck.

You could try to escape, but you wouldn't have enough time to run past them and through the winding corridors of the underground, even while distracting them with your cursed technique. They'd catch you within seconds. You’re sure they have curses lurking around waiting to thwart you, too.

You could burst directly into the layers of concrete and metal above — use your technique to revert them back millions and millions and years to their very first forms, atoms and subatomic particles, and then rebuild them up as an ascending platform — but that would take too much time, and you'd be completely defenceless while you did. Not to mention the toll it'd take on you.

(Not to mention the fact that you'd be bursting into the public eye from a giant crater in the ground.)

"I'm sure you know what I'm going to do," continues pseudo-Geto, amiable. "I would ask you to join us, but I know that is impossible. Therefore, there is only one course of action."

Can't fight. Can't escape. Can't get answers. Can't stay clueless. How contradictory.

You're not dying, that's all you know. And if you have to do the one thing you never wanted to do, then so be it. Anything is better than death. Death is not an escape, in this scenario — it’s a guarantee of imprisonment.

"It's a shame," pseudo-Geto sighs, bloodlust swelling. "Such a waste of a good technique."

You make a Binding Vow with yourself within seconds.

Using a magnitude of cursed energy usually out of your reach, your entire body will be reduced to atoms — intangible, untrappable, unkillable — for as long as it takes to retreat to safety. In return, you will be unable to think, unable to move according to your own will, only a mere pawn to entropy as the rest of the galaxy is — high risk, high reward.

There are many things that could go wrong.

In reducing yourself to essentially nothing, in splitting your cursed energy into billions of particles, you could reach a state of such low cursed energy concentration that you are, for all terms and purposes, considered dead. In doing so, your Binding Vow could break, and you would be unable to return to living.

Or you could float for days, weeks, years — safety is subjective, subjective is dangerous when it comes to contracts, and you can only hope that your own understanding of it sets the standard.

It's either this, this fleeting, terrifying chance, or death. With one, you can return to your school, your students, your Satoru — you can tell them what happened. You can bring justice to whoever has disturbed Suguru from his slumber. With the other — nothing. Just plain, utter nothingness forever and ever.

(You know which you'd rather.)

The last thing you recall, in spotty haziness, is the heart-stopping sight of Suguru surging towards you, eyes bloodthirsty, face contorted in malice.

The last thing you hope is that Satoru isn't too upset about the risk you've taken.

Eight days after your solo mission, you resurface — a discombobulated, stumbling mess on the outskirts of Shibuya, eyes glazed and mouth stuttering over syllables. A nearby Window calls the college within seconds, and Gojo is there just as soon — hands shaking when he grasps your arm and turns you to face him, fingers trembling when he cups your cheeks and brushes them under your eyes.

It’s you. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you, and he can breathe, he can fucking breathe, his chest is lighter than it’s been for those entire 8 days — all the while, he burns with an anger so intense it hurts. And Satoru is no stranger to anger, of course — knows it as intimately as he knows himself — but he's not sure if he can remember the last time it had rendered him breathless, trembling. Bloodthirsty.

It's not the time to think about it. Not when you're shaking in his arms, so frail and weak everywhere except your hands — no, your hands remain strong, fingers digging into his clothes and skin. He turns off his Infinity. The sting of your touch grounds him.

Shoko is already waiting in the clinic for him — she’d been preparing ever since the call first came in. The students (the ones on campus, at least) crowd together at a distance, buzzing anxiously as Satoru disappears swiftly into the depths of the infirmary with you in his arms.

Bad things happen often. Too often. Satoru isn’t sure whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing that they haven’t gotten used to it yet.

“Gibberish,” Satoru answers when Shoko asks if you’ve said anything competent since he picked you up. “Just gibberish.”

Shoko is poking and prodding you with the usual doctor's shit — stethoscopes and thermometers and that blood pressure band that goes around your arm — and you just lay there and take it. Head rocking side to side, limbs trembling, mouth lolling open, and Satoru's trying not to lose his head because what good is taking your temperature? Do you look like you have a fucking cold? Is the way your eyes focus and unfocus normal? The way you can’t string together two syllables that make fucking sense?

But even with how he can see your cells malfunctioning all over your body, Shoko knows more about this shit than him. So he sits pretty on her swivelling chair, twisting back and forth, body the image of boredom but mind anything but. Time and time again, he’s reminded of how unprejudiced tragedy is — how it leaves no hint, no mark of itself, no time to prepare for the toll of it all.

Satoru had greeted you briefly before you’d left. Said something about getting lunch together, that you better be careful because you were treating him — the same shit he said time and time again, his real plea hidden within the folds and twists of his jokes and quips. Be careful. Don’t die. I can’t lose you. You’re precious to me.

You’ll be okay. You have to be — he won’t allow anything otherwise. But if he’d known last week that you’d end up like this, would he have said those things out loud? He doesn’t think so. He’s cowardly in that way.

A few moments later, Shoko straightens up. Immediately reaches into the pocket of her lab coat and pulls out a cigarette and a rusting lighter, and is puffing out clouds of bitter air just seconds later.

Shit. That’s not a good sign.

Shoko sighs. Rubs at her dark undereye circles and only makes them worse, taps her cigarette so that the ash falls to the floor. “I know what it is.”

Well fucking tell him instead of keeping it in!

“Oh?” Satoru says instead, leaning forward onto his knees. “What is it, then?”

“She used her technique on herself.”

“She does that all the time to heal."

“She didn’t heal herself,” Shoko snaps — and Satoru remembers that he’s not the only person you’re important to. That while he and Suguru had gotten ahead of themselves being the strongest, they’d left you and Shoko to stroll humbly along your own paths. The only girls in their year. The only person Shoko could fully confide in, really — at least in Tokyo —, the only person who had bothered to check up on her when she drank too much, smoked too much. Even if Shoko hated it.

Shoko is upset. Satoru doesn't what to do with it.

(Alcohol — she likes alcohol. Satoru reminds himself to pick up the most expensive bottle of the stuff the next time he's out.)

(No. She’s trying not to drink so much, isn’t she?)

(Whatever. Life is short.)

“She dissipated herself.”

Satoru knows about your technique intimately enough that it immediately gives him pause — but he runs over the details in his head, just in case, as if it isn’t already imprinted on the flesh of his skull.

Your cursed technique allows you to disassemble items down to their most basic units — subatomic particles — while your reverse cursed technique allows you to reassemble them. Items can be reassembled into their previous form, or to another related form, but you cannot exceed the item’s natural entropy threshold. If you do, the item cannot be reverted back to a physical state, and you will bear the brunt of the resulting shift in energy.

It's a finicky technique. Finicky and fickle and the risks tend to outweigh the rewards — but you'd always used it so elegantly, so gracefully. Even when you doubted yourself, you had a handle on it. Satoru admired that about you.

("You don't say I'm powerful. You say I'm helpful. There's a difference."

You'd said that to him once, when he brought you and Yuuji to lunch. You'd acted like it didn't bother you but he could tell it did — he didn't need his Six Eyes to notice how your nose twitched and your eyes narrowed, displeased.

But Satoru believes in two types of helpfulness.

The kind he is — powerful, needed, a force to be reckoned with. Someone that keeps things afloat, that acts as a beacon in the dark.

Then there's the other kind. The usefulness of pawns, of bait. Necessary, but not fundamental. Desired, sure, but rarely crucial.

You've always been the first. Always. You and him and Suguru and Shoko, always. Even he could admit that.)

You disassembled yourself into atoms. Into nothingness. You lost your mind, your body, your energy, everything—

Satoru sighs. He's been doing that a lot today.

“I didn’t know she could do that,” Satoru says. His throat is covered in a layer of sawdust. He can’t remember the last time he had to actually focus on not throwing up. “Why would she do that?”

“She talked about it, before,” Shoko says. She leans against the bed you’re laying on, gazing over her shoulder — and the way she looks at you turns his stomach, the upturn of her brows, the sad downturn of her mouth. It’s as if you’re already dead. As if she’s looking at a living corpse. “Just… as a theory. A last resort to help her get away, if needed, but—”

“But what?”

“She knew she didn’t have the power for it,” Shoko mutters. Breathes another puff of cigarette smoke. “If she tried, she'd end up just… fading away. In breaking herself up, she'd negate the cursed energy that gives her the power to put herself together.

"And the side effects would be… well, you can see that for yourself. Stupid, so fucking stupid…”

“Well, obviously she has the power for it,” Satoru murmurs. “Or made the power for it.”

“A binding vow?”

Satoru shrugs. Clenches his jaw, watching as you scratch at the faux-leather underneath you. “It'd make sense. Explains how she put herself back together."

(But for what? What could have driven you to such lengths?

A curse like Jogo wouldn't be all too difficult for you to defeat.

So who…?)

Shoko hums. She stares into space for a moment, eyes unfocused, and for a moment Satoru sees her younger self — the one who just started smoking, just started drinking, who carried the weight of all the people she healed (and those she'd failed to) tucked in her pocket. The Shoko that would make sarcastic quips and humble them when they needed humbling, but humour them when she knew the outcome would be funny.

A time when they had very little responsibility. Even him, shackled with it since birth. Comparing his duty from then to now is like comparing a boulder to the weight of the world.

He feels very old, suddenly, at 28.

"There's nothing I can do for her," Shoko says, softly. Regretfully. "If she did make a binding vow, I can only assume she made a condition about returning to normal. If so…"

Satoru can’t do anything about it, basically, she explains. Your condition is one that will only heal with time, patience, and the odd boost from Shoko’s technique. Maybe, she says — she's still unsure about that last bit.

It sickens him. It festers as a deep, curdling annoyance in his bones, his uselessness. It’s a sensation he had only felt once before, standing before the slumped-over body of Geto Suguru. Nothing he could do for him except put him out of his misery, and even then that felt like a cop-out.

So… he can't go directly after the thing that had forced your hand, because they had left no trace. He can't heal you, either. He can't take care of you while your body repairs itself, while your supposed binding vow returns you to your rightful state — that duty will fall to Shoko, or one of her interns.

He can do nothing. And Satoru is nothing if he cannot be of use.

Nine months after the events of the culling games, Satoru enters your room to see you sitting up — eyes wide, eyes seeing, and it only takes you fixing him with a single look to know that you're okay.

(Subjectively. Relatively.)

Suguru Getou — Kenjaku — is finally dead — exorcised. He’s not sure which is the right word to use. All of his allies, killed or exorcised too. Nanami, murdered. Nobara, comatose. Yaga, dead. Inumaki, Maki, Okkotsu, maimed; the great houses of sorcery destroyed and rebuilt in the image of Satoru’s will.

Itadori Yuuji — dead. Sukuna Ryomen — exorcised.

Adding up the gains, subtracting the losses, carrying the ones… Both sides seem to have lost pretty evenly. And he should be happy about it, too; things could have turned out much worse. And they would have, too, if he hadn’t pushed himself out of his pouting and escaped the prison realm — a feat that was half out of spite and half concern for the outside world, and maybe a little curiosity. Rage. Longing to see the bastard who’d stolen Suguru’s face and body, who dared to reanimate him and rouse him from peace — longing to slaughter the thing that had rendered you bedridden and half-mad for months.

He had been the one to kill Kenjaku. It only felt right to be the one to do so — he’d killed Suguru, after all; had been the one to leave him defenceless and open to manipulation. If Suguru hadn’t been dead, Kenjaku wouldn’t have been able to steal his body.

Of course, Satoru ignored the fact that the very last rotten, desperate dregs of Suguru would have enjoyed Kenjaku’s plan — it was the only way he was able to keep his eyes open when he blasted his brain to bits. It was hard enough the first time.

All of these things sit on his tongue, bitter and souring and curdling — every detail of the battle, of the culling games, the colleagues and peers and students he’d held in his arms, the ones he’d comforted as they slipped away, the ones he’d reassured and promised.

(Pink, blood-covered hair; a smile that never dimmed, a nervous murmur (“It’s okay, Gojo-sensei. I know what I got into.”). The shaky laugh that had followed.)

Satoru’s hands tremble at his sides.

Your eyes are wet with tears when you look at him.

“How long has it been?” You croak — voice dry and cracked with disuse, whining in some parts, low and wheezing in others. Bone-deep, the fear in your voice, and for good reason — things had already been at a boiling point when you’d been taken down. Everything had moved past you. “Satoru—?”

Another selfish decision on his part: he doesn’t tell you. At least, not now, when the words threaten to vomit out of his mouth, when the pain is suddenly too fresh and too raw.

(For one strange, too-long second, he’s reminded of his mother — weak, presence-less, powerless as she was. Empty-eyed and unhappy. She was hardly even a mother with the amount of governesses he had.

Somehow, though, every problem would seem worse when her eyes were upon him; every cut and bruise was more painful; every slight against him a grave insult; every mistake a cause for self-pity and temper tantrums — and none of it mattered, as long as she took him into her arms.

A rarity, yes, but… maybe one of the only fond memories he has of his childhood in the Gojo household.

Satoru feels like a kid again — suddenly sniffling from a bruise he swore didn’t hurt, his mother ready to pat his head and baby him and coo his name. Satoru. Not Gojo-sama.)

He crosses the room and plants himself upon your bed and takes you into his arms for the first time in months, and—

And for the first time since Yuuji’s death, since Nanami’s, since Suguru’s, since your injuries—

He cries. Openly. Heaving, chest-wrecking sobs; red, wet nose and ugly whimpers. It’s overwhelming. It’s cathartic. It makes the pain worse, for a second, before it begins to taper out in a bruising wave; with it, he remembers his darling underclassmen who died, his colleagues that he’d wanted to live at least a few more years; he remembers that despite years of being told so, he’s not God — he couldn’t stop Yuuji’s death, or Suguru’s, or Toge losing his arms, or—

“Thirteen months,” he manages to get out. “Thirteen months — you couldn’t talk, or move properly, or—”

Satoru grabs handfuls of you — hair, waist, belly, it doesn’t matter. He can feel you beneath his skin. Rushing, pounding blood, cells, micromolecules — and he doesn’t need to, but he engages his Six Eyes for a moment — actually engages them, doesn’t let them run unconsciously in the background. It’s a comfort to let himself see each receptor interact with each signal on each plasma membrane, to let himself see the tissues that formed organs that formed organ systems forming you, breathing, living, sentient—

He kisses you — or you kiss him, he’s not sure — but it’s far more intimate, far more tender than any touch he’d delivered unto you; hands clutching the sides of your face, your fingers digging into his wrists. You’re crying, salt on his tongue — and he only knows they’re not his own tears because you give a great, shuddering sob when you part, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

“I had to,” you gasp, and he wants to tell you that he knows, he knows, he doesn’t blame you, sweet girl — did what you had to do to live, to survive— “I had to—”

“Only go where I can follow, okay?" His eyes are burning again, voice cracking with the promise, regardless of the fact that he’d rather you do it 100 times over than die. But it's the only way he can tell you he loves you without telling you he loves you, and he can't remember the last time he said the words aloud.

(He does. He remembers. And he remembers that Suguru wouldn't mind if he said it to you — that Suguru loved you as he loves you. And he remembers that Suguru is dead and doesn't have an opinion anymore, so it really doesn't matter, anyways.)

Satoru calls Shoko when he rights himself, barely pulling back from your embrace to text her something barely understandable and hurried. You don't say much while he does; still acclimating to being aware, being awake — he catches you with your eyes screwed shut and your nose buried in his jacket, fingers tight on his arms again. Grounding yourself. Reminding yourself that you're alive, and with him.

Shoko scolds you between rummaging around for a thermometer and scribbling your prescription in messy, barely legible cursive — calls you a dumb bitch for doing what you did, tells you that you owe her a bottle of wine and a trip to a fancy hot spring, and it all seems a little lighter.

(She cries a little — if the slight glassiness of her eyes can be considered crying. Satoru only teases her a bit for it, though you're quick to mention how he'd blubbered like a baby when he saw you, and he's humbled quickly.

It's the most normal he's felt in weeks.)

Shoko clears away after a few hours — gives you strict orders to rest, and sends him a knowing look that he's not all too sure of the meaning of.

"You look tired, Satoru," you finally say when you're alone again. Your smile is sad, knowing, and Satoru curses it all. You deserve a grace period, a moment of ignorance before the grief settles in. "What happened?"

But when have you ever wanted a moment of ignorance? When has he ever been able to hide the truth of things from you? When have you ever been anything but his equal, his confidant?

"Everything," Satoru says. A short, humourless laugh punctuates his single-worded sentence. "Everything, crybaby. Everything that we thought could happen, and everything we thought couldn't."

A flicker of a smile — uncomfortable, flat. Your eyes flicker down to the bland, starched sheets of the hospital bed. "Did you see him?"

He doesn't need you to elaborate. There's really only one person you both mean when you say him.

"Yes."

"Who was he?"

Satoru shifts in his seat. "An ancient sorcerer named Kenjaku. His cursed technique allowed him to transplant his brain between bodies and possess them."

"And he chose Suguru."

"Yes. And many others, too."

"And you killed him."

"Yes. For Suguru, and for you. But mostly for Suguru.”

“I’m glad,” you say, but your fingers twist the sheets tightly. “When I saw him, I was angry. So angry, I… I wanted to kill him. I knew I wasn’t strong enough, and I knew he would kill me, but for a second—”

He understands. God, does he understand. “You wanted to take the risk.” No matter the cost, no matter the damage to your own body. Anger like that consumes.

“I did.” You swallow. Your eyes meet his. “It was like… adding insult to injury. As if it’s not enough that Suguru is dead, but this — this Kenjaku has to puppeteer him too. Disturb his peace."

The wind rustles the trees outside. The late-afternoon gold of the sun settles along the horizon, a burning orange that stretches the shadows and warms the wind and turns the side of your face honey-soft and sad.

“But I realised that I was probably the first person he’d revealed himself to," you continue, "so I was the only one that could warn you."

Always thinking about the good of others. It was another thing he admired about you — Nanami, too. Satoru, for all his big talk about changing the world of jujutsu, about being better than those who came before him, is really quite selfish.

It's why his hands had trembled when he'd had to kill Yuuji. It's why he couldn't put Suguru in the ground the first time they met after he became a curse user. Even when he knows things are necessary, he tries his damnedest to hold on — just for the chance of it all. The chance that Suguru could change his mind. The chance that Sukuna could be removed from Yuuji without him needing to die.

"And…”

One snow-white brow raises. “And?”

“You’ve already lost too many people that you love,” you say simply, shrugging — like it's a simple fact, no need for experimentation, no need for an academic paper complete with its own abstract and footnotes. Like you've always known, in some little way, but you're only able to bring yourself to say it now.

And Satoru — well, it's no secret to him, is it? He's known it since he was 13, 14, 15 — had a bit of a buffering period, sure — and now here at 28, he knows it just as well. The point is that you're not supposed to know. Not while you're still healing from Suguru and… being attacked by fake-Suguru.

Regardless of what he knows and how long he's known it, Satoru feels his throat begin to close up, twisting and turning and holding his breath tight. He doesn’t like the feeling.

“Love?” He echoes. His voice has gotten a little empty. It's too soon for him to say it aloud, he thinks. It was okay when he whispered it in his head after making love to you; it was easy when he grinned at your scrunched up nose and scoffed comments and thought fuck, I love you. It was easy when he could pretend it was a simple, passing comment, a trick of the mind — but having it said as fact?

Not so simple. But you don’t need to know that. “Is that so?"

You don't seem to notice his momentary pause — a lifetime of rambling in his time, a second's hesitation in regular time — too busy staring at the space where his fingers stretch apart over the sheets. Just inches away from yours. "We're friends, aren't we?"

Oh.

"Oh." Satoru blinks back. "Oh, yeah. Best friends, you and I, crybaby."

"I know it's normal for us," you say, ploughing ahead, "to just lose and lose and keep losing, but… I'll be honest. I never fully got used to it, and I don't want to."

He wishes he could say the same, but he can't.

He understands, in some capacity. Nobody wants to see the people around them die, a continuous and vicious cycle. Nobody wants to get so used to loss that most funerals no longer hold any emotional significance. But getting used to it had saved him. Getting used to it helped him act without consequence, without remorse, and that's what the battlefield both needs and requires of him.

He could count on both hands the people he wants to save in this world — about half of them were dead, at this point. A lot of them died while he was imprisoned. Two, he had to kill himself. He swore he'd protect the rest with all Six Eyes, every non-existent boundary of his Limitless.

So Satoru doesn't care much about getting used to death and dying and loss and grief. As long as you're okay, he's okay. As long as his job as the Strongest is done, everything is as it should be.

He doesn't say that to you, of course. You'd probably curse him out and call him a heartless bastard. Instead, he nods, hums and agrees and tells you the names of those who died when you work up the courage to ask.

It's a long night. It's an even longer list.

10.

Shoko keeps you for observation for 10 days after you wake up — three days longer than necessary, but she won't hear it from him, no matter how many times he reminds her that technically she falsified her degree—

He's joking. Mostly.

Satoru volunteers himself to help you back home, taking with you the plastic bag filled with your cleaned sorcerer's garb and weapon. He carries it over his shoulder along with two teddy bears, a half-wilted bouquet of tulips and a half-eaten box of chocolates (all courtesy of the second years — except for the chocolates, which are half-eaten because of him). He winds his other arm around your waist even though you can walk perfectly fine, but — it's just in case. Purely precautionary. For once, you don’t argue about being babied.

In the midday sun outside, you tilt your head back and close your eyes and smile. For a moment, it's as if the sadness has melted away from you — the tears you shed over Yuuji, Nanami, Suguru. The tears you shed over him, and he wasn't even dead. Satoru is glad your eyes are closed — even beneath his sunglasses, it's painfully obvious that he's staring.

You decide to take the subway home — it's my first time outside in almost a year, you remind him, so he pushes down any arguments he might have and enjoys the too-cramped journey towards Akihabara. You’re both shoved standing together, between a panicked looking man holding a tray of coffee and a woman with her child hanging about her legs, your head bobbing against his chest as the train moves.

For a moment — as the train passes momentarily out of the underground and becomes encapsulated in light — it's easy to drown in the normalcy of it all. For a moment, he sees himself looking in as a stranger would. Here, he isn't the Six Eyes; just a simple man taking his girlfriend home, standing close on the train, wishing to be closer. Riding home to your shared apartment where he'll peel oranges and feed them to you, where he'll lay his head in your lap and hold your hands to his heart.

His nose wrinkles. He prefers reality, he thinks, where he can be powerful and have you by his side; where he can protect you, uphold peace, change the jujutsu world for the best — and then go home all the same, and have you to hold.

"What are you thinking about?" You mumble against his collar.

"Oranges," he replies.

"I don't have any at home," you say, "or if I did, they're rotted."

"Don't worry — we cleaned your kitchen up. Me and the kids." It was an afternoon of Yuuji attempting to shove rotting potatoes in Nobara's face. That was before Shibuya; before everything, really.

"Oh? You got your hands dirty?"

Satoru tries to not think about that same beaming, smiling Yuuji's last breaths. "Of course! This is me we're talking about, honey. I was front and centre."

You snort, soft against his neck. It's a wonder he went almost a year without you. "Housewife Satoru. I'll keep it in mind."

When you return to your apartment, you shower together for the first time in forever. He spends extra time and care massaging shampoo into your scalp, detangling each knot; spends extra time rinsing the suds out, tilting your head back with a gentle tap to your chin.

Steam clogs his mind. Almond shower oil and citrusy shampoo fog his senses. The realisation that you could have potentially been taken away from him sits heavy like a stone in his stomach — why it hadn't sunk in in the past, oh, 13 months or so, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he's terribly bad at caring for precious things — but if he could, if it's possible, he'll remould and reshape his hands, his heart, his mind, just for the chance—

"Satoru," you breathe against his lips, "Bow your head."

(Bow your head, you say. He'd kneel if you asked him to.)

You brush your hands through his hair; rinse him free of suds and bubbles and kiss his temples as you shut off the water. What is supposed to be healing for you is quickly becoming therapy for him — muscles relaxing, mind clearing of all responsibilities, mournings, obligations. All he knows are the soft, newly washed sheets beneath him and your nose in the crook of his neck.

It's a strange sensation, the lack of tension, his brain not working overtime. But hardly unwelcome.

11.

Satoru asks you if you saw anything when you were indisposed. Memories, flashbacks, prophecies? Blurry half-truths, nonsensical babbling? You tell him that you can't really remember — and you can't, not really, but you do remember one thing.

When you were 11, you met Satoru and Suguru for the first time. It's that memory that you can remember playing in your head, over and over and over again: Satoru and Suguru, scrawny and still-faced in their yukata.

Satoru was from a great, traditional house. Suguru was not, but upon discovery of his powers, was taken into unofficial custody of the higher-ups. In most circumstances, you wouldn’t have been allowed within two feet of them — but the elders had deemed your cursed technique a great gift, and so you were warily accepted into the upper echelons of jujutsu society, a stranger, a foreigner.

Introducing you to the most powerful sorcerers your age was nothing more than political play, of course. The adults followed behind as you walked through the grand grounds of the Gojo family — (maintained by a team of 12 gardeners, according to the Lady of the house) — muttering and scheming between themselves, making sure nothing would go awry.

Nothing did, of course. Satoru picked his nose and Suguru told him it was rude and they bickered for a while — Satoru bickered, Suguru replied calmly and quickly. Satoru asked you if your technique was good or bad ("No such thing," interjected Suguru) and whether or not you think you could beat him in a fight.

(That last question was to stroke his own ego, of course. Everyone knew he was the strongest sorcerer born in the last century.)

At some point, Satoru made you cry.

You can't remember what about, all these years later — you'd think you'd remember, considering the fact that you know the amount of gardeners employed by the Gojo estate — but you know that you had tried to stop it; fists balled, teeth gritted, full-body heaves. Crying was the last thing you had wanted to do. Crying meant weakness. Weakness meant being taken advantage of.

But you were so scared. It was all so alien. You wanted to go home, but home didn’t exist anymore. You wanted your mother, but your mother was long gone. All you had left were stone-faced adults that were only interested in your abilities.

Suguru had been confused at your reaction to what he took as a harmless quip — a little callous, as most children are — but he had reassured you nonetheless.

"Don’t cry. Satoru speaks before he thinks," he'd said, nudging your shoulder. "Sometimes you have to ignore him and he'll be so bored that he has to think."

"I can hear you," Gojo huffed. "I didn't mean to."

"See?" Suguru smiled. "Works like a charm."

Yes, Suguru had always been there to protect you. Emotionally, at least. He was willing to be kinder to people. More gentle, more forgiving. He'd believed that it was his duty as a sorcerer to protect those that couldn't protect themselves, and—

Well. That had changed, by the end, but having that memory replay in your head made you see the bigger picture of it all. Suguru's place in things. Your place in things.

You'd loved Suguru, no doubt. And you’ll probably always carry a piece of him with you — you'd hate to do otherwise. You’ll carry his kindness and his jokes and his catlike smile, all tucked away in bubble wrap somewhere in your chest cavity — but you will never disregard his wrongdoings. Since his death, you'd argued against the two sides of him; felt guilty for loving him after what he did, felt guilty for hating him after loving him and knowing him for as long as you did. Two halves of a whole. Darkness in light and light in darkness.

He was both of those things. You love him, but you don’t forgive him, and you probably never will. He will never again be the boy that comforted you after Satoru made you cry; he will never again be the boy who let you braid his hair back. He won't be the boy who slaughtered innocents, either — death's funny like that. Indiscriminately doing away with both the good and the bad.

And that's okay. Kenjaku is dead, after all, and Suguru can finally rest — and with him, your warring mind.

12.

Midnight strikes and you're still awake. You don’t even seem tired, and that's after a long shower and takeout and a movie. Usually you'd be a drooling mess by now, but tonight is different. Feels different. Satoru isn’t sure if it's just a year's worth of built up sexual tension or something else, but he feels it regardless.

He's flopped on his stomach, hair still damp; you're curled up in the shape of a C, skin reflecting the light of the TV. He might visit Nobara tomorrow. Megumi usually goes on Wednesdays, too — they could make a day out of it, and you could tag along, too. He's got a craving for the pistachio macarons they sell near—

"I'm in love with you," you announce.

Satoru doesn't bother asking you to repeat yourself because he knows he didn’t mishear. It isn't the knowing that shocks him — he's not stupid, and you wear your heart on your sleeve — it's the sudden, quick verbal affirmation of it that catches him off guard. After all, haven’t you two been putting this all off? Yearning for a dead man? Being pulled from two opposing poles?

He turns his head towards you, opens his mouth to ask you just that, and—

"After Suguru, I thought I'd never be happy again," you say, and you’re smiling like you didn't just say something inherently heartbreaking. But no, you look fond — content, even, blinking slowly at him. "And I thought I'd never feel for someone as strong as I did for him. But here I am: happy, and in love, and okay."

Satoru opens his mouth — then closes it quickly. For some reason, he remembers something Suguru said to you when you were younger: "Satoru speaks before he thinks." But he wants to think about this — about what he should say. How does he respond to you quite literally baring your heart to him? How does he tell you what he wants to tell you, what you deserve to hear? He's never been good with real, genuine words — emotional shit never came easy to him out loud. His thoughts are much more concise than his mouth is, but he guesses it's because it moves so fast in comparison.

Pity you can't read his mind. It'd make things much easier.

“You don’t have to say anything,” but he wants to, don't you know? "You don't have to pretend. It’s okay. I know that… maybe you don’t love me as much as you loved Suguru, but I know you love me in some way, at least—”

Satoru frowns — strings of ideas and thoughts bunching up and stopping short as your words register. “As much as I— hey, stop putting words in my mouth—"

"The truth is," you continue on, "I feel lighter than I have in years. I don't dread life so much anymore. I don't dread you anymore."

"You… dreaded me?"

You hum. Your legs stretch down, arms forward, face scrunched up in a passing yawn. "I'm not stupid to think you didn’t know how I felt, but… I hated that I was so obvious about it. Even when I was fighting with myself about it, I was obvious. It made me hate being around you, sometimes."

You sigh, then — not as heavy and melancholy as they used to be, no. This is a sigh of relief, of cathartic release.

Satoru blinks, and attempts to wade through the seventy-or-so compulsions telling him to make a joke, to laugh, to tease you. Maybe he should actually be serious for once. Say it straight and say it firm, so you can't take anything the wrong way. If there was ever a time for him to not beat around the bush…

"I've liked you since I was 17," he confesses, finally. "Me and Suguru, we were together, y’know, and we were happy. And Suguru loved you, and somewhere along the line I… began to do the same, but we were so young and then… Everything changed so fast. Everything broke so fast.”

Your fingers brush against his, and he breathes in a sigh. Your eyes are wide and watery, low light reflecting like glitter in your eyes.

"Sometimes, it keeps me up at night," Satoru says, laughing a pained sort of laugh. "Out of everything, that's what keeps me up — that we could've been happy together, all three of us. It never would’ve been enough to make him change, but…"

At least you would’ve known what it was like. To be happy together in that way. To be content. To find your places in the world, hand and hand. To know what it was like — even if Suguru’s fall from grace was inevitable — so you wouldn’t have to keep wondering until your untimely, gruesome, sorcerer-style deaths, or whatever.

Back then, Satoru didn’t understand why Suguru never told you how he felt. He couldn't understand how he could be content watching from afar, looking but never touching. What Satoru wanted, he learned to take; the Strongest didn’t need to ask for permission, only forgiveness.

He learned quickly that some things were better left unsaid. And now, 28 years old, half of his friends, students, colleagues dead — he understands even more.

He remembers how Yuuji had tried to stave off tears when he realised he had to die; remembers how his student’s throat had felt being crushed in his hands. He loved Yuuji like a little brother. Like a son, even. He was family. He was his student, and yet his death had been necessary, and Satoru battled with it. It allowed him to succeed in the mission he was born to complete. But he had given up Yuuji in return.

There is no curse more twisted than love.

Therein lays the problem, he supposes. The second you love someone, you run the risk of having them end up like Yuuji did. Like Suguru did. Like Nanami did. When you are burdened with incredible power like Satoru is — like Suguru was — you must be able to sacrifice for it. The closer that people are, the more likely they are to be caught in the crossfire, the more likely you are to be hurt. Suguru hoped to avoid that at all costs. It was easier to watch from afar, less painful.

Satoru is a tad more selfish. Which is bad, he knows, because he's too prepared to sacrifice. Even now. Even now, he knows that if caught between saving you and saving society, he would be forced to — to—

Satoru inhales. The only thing for it is to simply stop things from getting that far.

He could explain all this to you. He could talk circles around you about it, in fact, but the truth is that it's all conjecture. Suguru isn’t here to tell him why he did what he did. He can’t speak for him, no matter how well he knew him.

"I don't know why Suguru never told you," Satoru says instead. He folds his fingers tighter, taking yours in his grip as he does so. "Guess that's something he took with him to the grave."

"I've stopped wondering," you say. “I’ll never stop regretting, but I’ve stopped wondering. I can’t stay rooted in the past any more. It was doing more harm than good."

And you raise your interlocked hands — nestle them under your chin and screw your eyes shut, like you're wishing on the evening star, like he's something precious to be treasured. All of a sudden he's 17 and confused about why he can't stop staring at you. He doesn’t have Suguru to tease him about it, now.

“I’ll never forget him,” Satoru announces — a warning, or a reassurance, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s telling the truth and nothing but the truth, and whether or not you like his truth is not his concern. He respects you too much to lie about this to you.

Your lips twitch upwards, a phantom of a smile. “Neither will I. "

"I'll never forget you, either."

The smile grows, blooms, blossoms, until it stretches bright and full across your face. The first smile of yours he's seen in a while that wasn't at half-mast, or tinged with sadness, or pain, or fatigue.

"How lucky I am," you whisper, "to be known by you, Gojo Satoru."

It should be the other way around, he thinks.

(12.5.

It's the first time he makes love in years.

Satoru has always fucked you. Always. No matter how tired you both were, no matter how injured — he'd always force himself to be rougher, force his touches to not linger as much as he wanted them to.

If he felt too much, he'd crack a joke instead of drowning in it; if he felt his eyes beginning to burn he'd bury his nose in the crook of your neck and push it down. If he thought of long, dark hair and cat-like eyes, he'd tighten your grip in his hair and the shock of pain would clear his mind. He fucked quick, and when he was done he'd lay far away enough that he couldn't feel your skin against his.

Tonight, he lets himself love and be loved again.

You're on top of him, ass flush against his thighs, taking every inch he has to give you; his hands have found your jaw, thumbs brushing back and forth across your dewy, sweat-slick cheeks. One hand of yours clasps around his wrist; the other bands to his chest, nails digging red into his skin. Your cursed energy blooms, flushes, flourishes when he opens his eyes to look at you.

He sees every pore, every hair, every dimple, every broken capillary, every scratch and scrape. Every part of you, bending to him in some places, unfalteringly stubborn in others.

"Look at you," he mumbles, blinking dumbly. "So… pretty…"

You snort something like a laugh, and continue: up, down, up, down. Slow, grinding gyrations of your hips that make his head spin pleasantly; and with his Limitless nullified, he feels every inch of skin, every tensing of muscle, every scrape and press fully and completely. He’s never felt so engulfed in it before — the sensations of it all, the warmth, your scent, your weight above him.

He'd drown in you, if he could. Take you in his mouth and nose and ears and everywhere, until he's left gasping for air and grappling for something of substance. Maybe once upon a time he would keep those thoughts to himself, for whatever reason — but now he's allowed to be selfish in his affections, allowed to give more than surface-level compliments and vague declarations of love.

Between pleasure-ridden shudders and sloppy, wet kisses, he breathes:

"I want you everywhere," he says, "All the time. Over me, on me, in me—"

You raise a brow, impudent and teasing in a way that makes his abdomen tighten. "In you?"

And maybe he didn’t mean it in the way that you took it, but he plays along anyways, waggling his brows. "You heard me."

"You're terrible."

"I'm not joking," Satoru argues — but it’s hard to take him seriously when his voice quietens, when he arches up eagerly to meet your lips—

When his grip on your lower back becomes painfully tight, when his lips part in a moan and his eyes screw shut and he throws his head back, hips rutting up to meet yours, and—

His peak rises to greet him — and his heart swells all the while. He finds himself clawing for you as his orgasm builds, hands clambering against your back, your neck, your hair, until (with a great, shaking breath, may he add): "Fuck, I — mmf, I love you—"

It carries him off to a state of fuzzy, empty-minded ignorance — pleasure tightening his entire body, fizzling from the tips of his fingers to his curling toes. Your name on his tongue, slurred and mellifluous, his smile dizzy and drunk.

As you smile down at him, so unbearably fond, Satoru thinks that he doesn’t mind saying I love you aloud after all.)

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scintillyyy · 2 months ago

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i do think. sometimes people act as if tim's absentee parents & how that made him feel was like. just this completely unexplored, uncritical latchkey kid trope. when it's like. tim's complicated feelings about his dad was kind of a very significant character exploration for tim from batman #480 through ~probably cataclysm (? i say there because as much as i love no man's land jack mobilizing the united states government i feel like post-cataclysm we fall into an era where jack & tim's issues with jack start to take a backseat because they've been heavily explored already for the past like. 6 years.). robin miniseries i touched on his complicated feelings about his parents. robin ii has tim talking to his dad wishing he could talk to him when he wad awake. cry of the huntress was an entire miniseries dedicated to exploring tim's fraught feelings of his dad. the pre-knightfall stuff where tim has to help take care of his dad following his discharge from the hospital. early robin + prodigal exploring jack wanting to be present, tim wishing he was a little less present, culminating in jack getting a girlfriend and losing interest in tim yet again and tim's complex feelings about that. yes, they were doomed by the narrative (teen vigilante parents are not allowed to be present lest they hinder the teen vigilante fighting crime), but the writers *did* do something with that. like. quite a bit. a lot. like yea, there's underexplored nuances there & the canon exploration was clunky and limited at times, but you can't say that tim feeling lonely growing up from his parents constant travel never got explored in canon when tim did get to yell at his dad about how his dad was just fine dumping him in boarding school because work was more important.

(and if tim never waxed constant poetics about how much his mom left him sad and lonely and alone when he was younger and how complicated his feelings about her were....it's because she was murdered when he was 13. that pretty well took precedence over any negative feelings tim might've had with her regarding her being gone all the time. by just a bit. he doesn't *want* to hold negativity or grudges over her failures, he wants to love her and miss her and cherish the good they had in his heart.) (also, still going to stress that even with her failures it's canon that he felt that she was someone he could talk to about anything as of batman #134 anf they clearly had an overall positive relationship even with her shortcomings)

#tim drake #jack drake #janet drake

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uchihaharlot · 8 months ago

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if you're taking requests, could i politely beg you for some Sasuke head *ahem* canons please 😫🥵😮‍💨 sfw or nsfw totally up to you... the way you write these Uchiha fellas is just damn perfect!! 🫶🏻 💐 💗

Nonny!!! You are officially my very first Sasuke-kun request!! I can't believe the day has finally arrived!!! Let's dissect this man to the fullest capacity, shall we?

Politely beg all you want, Sasuke couldn't care less. In fact, you'll get more out of him if you bitch a little. Not much, but enough (lol you clever slut, my gentle mind just got what you meant by 'Sasuke head *ahem* canons).

I also appreciate your praise!! I'm am merely just a vessel, spreading Lord Indra's will. Every single one of these fine ass men deserved better!!!

N/SFW; Sasuke-kun, please come back; bit of a weird AU here; just go with it

Sasuke, as we all know. Was the shadow throughout most of his childhood in the eyes of his father. His older brother took first place in many aspects of his traumatic life. I secretly feel like he wouldn't have liked being the favorite anyways.

He's so emotionally stunted, it's rather sad and embarrassing to him. Aside from the mostly 'brotherly' affection Itachi gave him and friendships of the few around him. Sasuke doesn't take kindly to your admission of want. Or belligerent desire as he calls it.

He doesn't really accept that he's taken an unavoidable liking to you either very well. Pity, really. Ask just about any Uchiha, catching feelings is like having the world's worst cold. So, Sasuke avoids you like the damn plague, but you're secretly on his mind. Which still pisses him off.

Gets so damn jealous if any other Uchiha talks to you. He knows how his family is. Especially his fucking cousin, Shisui. Despite his best efforts, Sasuke will never live this down. The moment you met, he knew you were his. Case in point. (Plus, Shisui only got your attention to prove a point to Sasuke, that his little cousin does want you.)

Dates, are not his style, but goes out of his comfort zone to hopefully garner your affections. The more he thinks of you, the harder it becomes to ignore these whims and feelings. That and your first 'date' wasn't entirely romantic or appropriate. Having his, 'emotional support fox' follow you from a distance was off putting. And creepy.

So here you are, Sasuke standing outside your door. Not capable of coping that his body is acting of its own volition. He's so on and off with his emotions. Can't decide if he is coming or going.

But in all honesty, he's very partial to coming in your mouth. Holy gods, yea. Doesn't even remember how it all led up to your gorgeous lips around the base of this cock as his hot seed slips down the back of your throat. Sasuke was so damn at war with himself that his body was on autopilot making all the decisions.

Could he really complain? Yea, probably. Though he doesn't, seeing you pop off his cock slow and cute as his cum drips a little down your bottom lip is more than enough to acquiesce his bitter mood. Cures it basically.

Makes it all the easier for him to just give in and push you flat onto the couch. A little more rough than intended, but you moan and writhe all the same. Even more so as the warmth of his mouth and tongue lavish you in a particularly primal way. Makes you question his virginal status, but not wanting to ruin the flow and your orgasm on his face. You leave it unsaid. The Uchiha are renowned geniuses, and the rinnegan really is the best at its craft. Ten times more powerful than the sharingan, its a no brainer that he holds all that raw power in the blink of an eye. Which was wielded to make you cum twice over again.

Heavy petting and lip service is what you get for the time being, I don't want top break your heart, but Sasuke is still heavily guarded...until the next time perhaps.

#sasuke uchiha #uchiha sasuke #sasuke headcanons #sasuke #uchiha clan #uchiha headcanons #naruto #sasuke smut

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mfdragon · 11 months ago

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Hey there

Thoughts on ‘A Glitch in Time’ and if it’s canonicity will affect the Good Vlad AU?

If you’ve addressed this before, I’m sorry, but I didn’t see anything, and I’m kinda intrigued on how that dynamic would work

I have answered this kinda but I can go into more detail now since some time has passed.

I loved Glitch in Time! It was FUN; it was CREATIVE; and I loved just seeing all the characters again having an adventure together. I enjoyed the lore exploration, the extra nuance they gave Dan and the veeeery interesting future plot potential with him and Vlad 👀

It made me real happy (and sad as well) to see how happy Jack was to see Vlad again, despite everything. And yea speaking of Vlad oh ma lawd I NEVER THOUGHT ID GET TO SEE HIM FINALLY OPEN UP ABOUT HIS TRUE FEELINGS!! Happy also to see Danny was weary and didn’t trust him completely but still the ending was interesting, held a lot of potential and everyone is in a good place.

Now as for my own story; it’s interesting that the comic revealed that Vlad’s obsession was fueled by fear. I thought that was very interesting and it does make sense, since being abandoned and left in pain is probably his biggest trauma. However, I always liked and suspected his obsession was more linked with anger, since it’s connected to revenge and being blinded by rage. And that’s mostly what I’m going to be focusing on in my au. I don’t know if I’d be adding Dan or Danni into my story, especially since my au takes place after TUE but before Secret Weapons. (Mostly because the cloning thing for me was like, ah hell I can’t redeem this guy once he gets to THIS point like damn son. And attempted Jazz-icide as well; can’t forgive him for that at all :/)

Sorry for the ramble and I hope some of that made sense ✨

#ask the dragon #Danny phantom #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #a glitch in time #agit spoilers #good!Vlad au #i wished that show stuck with A Vlad; either make him full villain or redeemable cooky villain #instead they would have fun and sympathetic episodes with him and then hit us with kindred spirits like FUCK he was SCARY that episode

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anime-moreanime-animeagain · 4 months ago

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Good news! I can breath again. For the last week I have been absolutely devastated. After reading AoaB 4.8 I was physically ill I got so upset. But then I couldn’t really calm down cause I needed to know what happened to Ferdinand. So I may have….gotten zero sleep and spent every waking hour I wasn’t required to do life things like working and driving, reading nonstop through 10 books straight.

However! I am now on 5.9 and I feel like I can finally breathe and focus and do other things like clean and cook actually food, and make posts for other obsessors to relate to.

All kinds of SPOILERS are ahead for 4.8 - 5.9

There were things that made me less angry with the situation before this stopping point. Moments where I thought “okay…I’m not crazy sad/mad anymore.” Those moments are:

Rozemyne’s declaration that Ferdinand is family and of course she didn’t want to be Zent that’s so troublesome, but of obviously she’d do what she needed to do to save him like duh! And Ferdinand being like I’m sorry what? You think of me as family??? 🥺😭 😭

Please hug him more I cannot! This poor man doesn’t understand any type of love and it makes me SAD! But not going to lie I live for the type of devotion she was showing him. Like yeeeeessss!! Loyalty! Whether it’s romantic or platonic it is fantastic! That’s the personality characteristic I find swoon worthy.

But then there was the interduchy tournament and y’all….THE INTERDUCHY TOURNAMENT! Pretty sure I melted into a disgusting puddle of goo when he gave her the first true “very good” with fond headpat included. I just melted into the couch because okay. Okay. That makes up for a LOT of the grief I was put through. Like a ton. Like at that point I wasn’t even really mad or angry anymore. Not if we were getting THESE interactions in the interim.

And then the bench surprise! I’m not ashamed I definitely cried when he sat down on it and it was soft and he didn’t really say it but everything in his reactions screamed that he loved it and I thought how he’d probably never had anyone go out of their way for him just to make him comfortable and that was beautifully sad so of course crying was done. It felt a little silly to get SO emotional over that but I mean….he likes the bench so much and hadn’t brought it (I assume) cause he thought it would be taken from him like every other good thing in his life and how is that not something to burst into tears over. So yea. Good stuff.

And then things jumped forward again and we got near adult Rozemyne who is so pretty which thank God finally! But then Ferdinand nearly ‘climbed the towering staircase’ and my anxiety shot back up and then there was a whole war and honestly who ends a book in the middle of the battle! I feel sorry for everyone who had to wait and wait for the next volume my goodness.

But it’s okay because we had the mana hall reunion. YA’LL!!! The Mana Hall Reunion!!!! Cue the Aladdin free falling off the balcony onto carpet and taken up into the clouds because ya girl was on cloud 9 that entire scene. It was grand! Supreme! Perfect in every way! Look at this!

Pretty sure I thought this was some amazing fanart when I first saw this and I refused to read the text because spoilers but it’s not fanart it’s canon and I’m just beyond happy that it’s in color too!!! His little ‘when you said you’d defy everyone and everything I didn’t think you meant it’ and her little ‘well it’s your fault you don’t listen when I tell you how much you mean to me sooo your bad’. It’s… it’s everything I wanted. Absolutely everything!

Don’t get me started on their little talk in the gate about how to make their dreams come true together. At this point I’m actively squeeling every other moment I think about it.

I’m a little drained from speeding through 10 books in 8 days but this is fantastic why wasn’t there more to the anime? We were robbed I tell you! ROBBED! Anyway now in the middle of reading 5.9 and I can see I’m going to get super annoyed with people trying to distance my two unhinged shumils. And we still have the loose ends with the sovereignty and Detlinde to fix so I know I need to buckle up but like damn… can my two just chill and get a break?! Can she please finally meet her brother? Can Ferdinand please enjoy being valued without people telling her to stop?

Guess we will see. I should stop…. put on all the breaks until the final volume is out and translated…. yea sure, that’s what I’ll do….

#we all know that’s lies but ya know #good to attempt healthy hobby practices #ascendance of a bookworm #aoab #ascendance of a bookworm spoilers #AoaB p. 4.8 - 5.9 #this ride has been wild #I loved almost every part of it

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louislovesdilfs · 1 year ago

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Homesick (part 2)

Happy 60th Doctor Who anniversary! how could I not release the second part of this fic today, this is a bit long but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway.

sources: MatPat (film theory) and r/gallifrey on reddit (it was a debate so I took informations from different people and kind of mixed them together to work with something reliable,sort of)

pairing: 9th/10th Doctor x male!reader

please dont take anything I say about Doctor Who universe for canon, this may or may not be true, some of these are just theories, take them as such.

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"I told you I didn't like him, right?" Y/n says getting in the TARDIS, he sits on the yellow seats near the console lookin at Rose tilting his head a little, The Doctor chuckles as he watches the young man teasing Rose.

"oh please Y/n, just admit you were jelous" she scoffs teasing him back, they're talking about Rose new 'Boyfriend' Adam, he turned out to be as dumb as a donkey...no poor donkey he is as dumb as a rock.

"jelous? of that guy? tsk" he says almost offended by Rose's statement, he wasn't jelous, jelous of what? Rose? yea right...she's like his little sister, she looks a lot like his actual sister...or how she would look like now...anyway The Doctor flirts with Rose too and it doesn't bother him, it does bother him when The Doctor flirts with anybody else but that's totally unrelated.

"got all defensive now have you?" she teases him with a victory smirk on her face, Y/n tho ignores her turning to The Doctor who's grinning while messing with the console.

"Y/n is right tho, he got a hole in his head." The Doctor points out, Y/n smiles at him and they bump fists as Rose sighs

"two against one, so unfair" she says as the two men laugh looking at each other.

----

"is that a good idea?" Y/n asks genuinely concerned, Rose wants to see her father when he was still alive, she wants to witness his death, legit of course but absolutely not a good idea.

"I just want to know how he was." she says, a but of sadness in her voice,

"I'm not judging you, it's jus- it's ok watching your parents' wedding but witness his death?" Y/n says again, he knows about witnessing a parent death and it's not great, definitely not something he wants to repeat

"how would you know?" Rose doesn't actually snap at him, it's a genuine question born from his concern, he looks away not wanting to answer at first so The Doctor interrupts them

"he's just worried, and so am I Rose" The Doctor says resting a hand on Y/n's shoulder, the man probably understood, he can see Y/n's been trough something and doesn't want to share, after all The Doctor does the same thing.

"I want to see him." she says firmly, Y/n and The Doctor let out a defeated sigh

"your wish is my comand, just be careful what you wish for" The Doctor says pressing some buttons.

As Y/n predicted things went terribly, Rose did manage to adjust the mess she made anyway, the three are silently walking to The TARDIS but Rose is looking at Y/n and then at The Doctor who shifts his gaze from the floor to her and then him before shaking his head lightly at Rose.

"Y/n" she calls turning to him ignoring The Doctor

"yes?" he turns to her not suspecting anything

"do you have a family?" she asks, rightfully Y/n thinks, they both oepend up, The Doctor talked about the Time War and his planet, Rose made them witness her father's death and in general they always tell some stories from their past, Y/n doesn't, it did make the both of them curious even if The Doctor didn't want to admit it.

"once." he sighs and he is thinking about stopping there but seeing the curious gaze of his friends makes him give in.

"we were four, my dad, he was a lawyer, worked until his last day on earth, my sister...she...she was so sweet, she looked like you Rose.." he says looking at her, she did look like her sister, it was painful yet beutiful in his eyes.

"she disappeared, probably kidnapped." he says but his ideas on the matter where slightly different, he could ask The Doctor to go back just to have the answers but he doesn't want to, he doesn't want to know if she's dead. He wants to keep hoping.

"my mother died when I was 7, she died in front of me, she wanted to help a poor man on the road, he then tried to kiss her and she rejected him, he gave her 50 stabs, I was there, I witnessed it all. He wasn't a poor man and she wasn't his first victm. The police didn't arrive on time and he was running away. I grab his knife and- " he stops, his hands closed in fists as his eyes are holding back tears. The Doctor brushes his knuckles and holds his hand as soon as Y/n lets him. Rose looks at the two men hesitating before hugging Y/n, she didn't want to ruin the moment between the two.

"he will stay on a wheelchair for the rest of his life." he says looking at The Doctor and holding his hand tightly as he rests the other on Rose's shoulders accepting the hug. After a while she lets go of him and the three enter The TARDIS but she notices, the two men are still holding hands, they're sharing a grief, both of them are alone in this world, the look in their eyes is similar, Rose sees it, do they?

-----

to be honest all the time Y/n wasted flirting with Jack gave him something else to thinks about even if that would mean having the burning stare of The Doctor on his neck. His mind was repeating the same things, over and over: there is no escape, they're all going to die, what if Rose gets turned in one of them? what if The Doctor is the one? can't go home without him, they're going to be stuck there, forever, die like this, being emptied out...what a pathetic way to die. He wakes up from his thoughts, the group is not far from him still they sound distant, maybe cause he's not paying attention to them, something in the room feels wrong, something is off even if it's hard to recall what precisely. He sees it tho, after a few minutes, the little boy behind her, it's too late to yell at them to run, it's too late to warn Rose but something makes Y/n's legs move as fast as they could putting himself between Rose and the kid, he feels the touch of the tuny hand and the only thing he can do now is turn to face the others,

"Run" Y/n says with a pale face, what an idiot he is, sacrifice himself, the thought of it almost makes him chuckle,

"Y/n-" Rose tries to say something but the young man shakes his head interrupting her,

"no, I won't let that happen again. Go. it was good while it lasted." that's all he can say, the thing is pushing in his throat, it draws blood as it makes its way to the surface, it hurts, it's all so painful, he shuts his mouth trying to hold back the infamous words he feels in his throat; he helds back tears too, Y/n doesn't want them to see him that vulnerable, it's so pathetic. He couldn't let Rose die, he couldn't let that happen, not again, she...not her, not now.

"You're not going to die, Y/n, that's a promise" The Doctor says in a deadly serious tone, he looks mad, maybe at himself for allowing this to happen.

"go..m-mom-" Y/n falls to his knees before the complete dark, he doesn't see anything, he feels his body moving but has no control of it, that is his end, that's where he will stay for the rest of eternity but then a familiar voice brings him back to reality.

"Y/n!" Rose says as the young man opens his eyes,

"Rose? what?" he asks puzzled, he looks at her as she smiles widely. Rose pulls him in a tight hug and he allows her to do so, he's happy she's okay and apparently he is too. The Doctor joins the hug too as Y/n hugs him even tighter, The Doctor laughs shaking his hand in Y/n's hair messing them up a bit.

"you thought you lost me didn't you?" Y/n asks smiling at the man, the smile was genuine, The Doctor stares at the young man for a while thinking how complicated this guy is, there are worlds to discover in Y/n, worlds.

"you doubted me didn't you?" he asks offended but still smiling, his smile is wide, he's so happy to see Y/n again, he did think he lost him for a second,

"answer a question with a question?" he shots back looking in The Doctor's eyes with a cheeky smirk,

"avoiding to answer the question?" both of them laugh leaving Rose in confusion,

---

"oh god oh shit!" Y/n says looking at the glass bridge, he is in some sort of game he doesn't remember how he got in or when he just know he is there, he needs to play to survive, squid game style, indeed the game he needs to play is exactly like the one in the show, 18 sets of pannels, the players have to jump on one of them and hope the glass they jumped on is the tempered one, if not they fall dying, Y/n hates the game, it's generally decided by random coin flips, worst case scenario we have 18 deaths, best case scenario 0 deaths but the chances are more than just low.

The chances for the first in line to get everything right are 1 in 262.144 wich gives and average of 9 deaths, meaning: first 6 people are screwed with less than 5% chance of survival while going 13th and later the chances grow to 95% or better. Y/n knows it, it doesn't take long to do the math, he chooses his number, 13, he's the 13th in line the game for him goes smoothly but he will always remember the screams he heard while the other fell in the nothingness. Once on the other side the bridge explodes and all the pieces of glass hit Y/n everywhere leaving him tiny cuts all over, he is a bloody mess and as soon as The Doctor rescues him he notice the lucid eyes of his.

"you ok?" he asks brushing the other man's hand in a caring way, Y/n doesn't answer, he just nods. lies.

Later on, The Doctor, Rose and Y/n are on floor 500, as Rose's speaks

"suppose" she says and The Doctor turns to her

"what?" he asks, Y/n turns to her too, hoping she has a good idea

"nothing" she shakes her head still thinking

"c'mon Rose, spit it out" Y/n sighs, his face still covered in tiny cuts and bruises bleading from some of them.

"No, I was just thinking. I mean, obviously you can't, but, you've got a time machine. Why can't you just go back to last week and warn them?" she says, The Doctor and Y/n both shake their head, it was a nice try, not good enough but nice.

"As soon as the Tardis lands in that second, I become part of events, stuck in the timeline." The Doctor explains but then he rants about something, it isn't clear to Y/n even if he can understand half the things he says, he learns fast and really smart but yet something about this Delta Wave and crossing his own timeline seems off and wrong, too late to understand it tho, the TARDIS starts to move Y/n rushes to the door before it closes shut but they don't lead where Y/n wishes, a vortex is what he finds, he falls in it as he hears Rose shouting his name and then the TARDIS door closing.

Y/n risked his life tons of time with The Doctor, he did always end up alive tho, The Doctor was such a brilliant man, it didn't last as long as Y/n wished; that's what his mind thinks before the pain, he's falling while the time winds shred his body, the pain is excruciating, he can't scream, he can't cry, he can't even breath; the air is stuck in his lungs while all his body gets older, he can feel his organs failing, but it gets also younger, his cells go back to when they were born. His body tries to heal itself as fast as it can, it borns and dies a countless amount of times.

His mind sees everything, every point in history, he's there. He has always been there. His brain gains informations it shouldn't get, too much he feels it melt, it isn't tho, no, no it is expanding itself in a painful process, as slow as it is quick. Time is relative, past, present, future...and then the end. He's back, a gold light makes him come back, it's like his heart beats twice, his chest hurts, his head hurts, his eyes are complitely red, blood is where is supposed to be white, he sees The Doctor, his Doctor kissing Rose...she's alive, he's alive...Y/n closes his eyes but a smile is formed on his lips as a tear runs down his cheek before the dark.

When his eyes open he is inside of the TARDIS, Rose is on the ground, alive but probably unconscious, The Doctor is near the console shining in the same gold light, Y/n understands something is going to change, his mind is still hurting him but that doesn't stop him from standing up ignoring the pain in his body.

"Y/n, oh you're so stubborn, you couldn't just stay in the TARDIS huh?" The Doctor says while his hands glow, it's not as pretty as before, it looks wrong.

"you're dying are you?" he says looking at the man's hand, The Doctor smiles shaking his head

"Timelords regenerate, we change appearance to cheat death, It's the last time you're seeing me with this face, Y/n" he says looking at the young man, he's looking at him like this will be the last time he will be able to do it, Y/n gets closer but The Doctor steps back telling him to stop, Y/n doesn't, he gets closer to the man touching his cheek with his right hand, no words are spoken between the two, just an understanding look, a stolen kiss, quick, meaningless.

Rose wakes up in time for The Doctor's goodbye, a burst of golden light and then a new face, he surely looks handsome, messy hair, cheeky smile, he's good looking for sure.

"where was I? ah yes..Barcellona!"

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

as everyone is celebrating the Sycorax leaving Y/n feels like he already saw it, he knoes something is wrong as he looks at The Doctor faking a smile to avoid ruining the moment, but Y/n can't lie to The Doctor, he always seems to see right trough his lies sometimes. He gets closer looking at the young man

"what?" he asks, new voice, new accent...it's difficult for Y/n to see his Doctor in this man

"something is about to happen" and as he says that the Sycorax spaceship explodes attacked by 5 green beams that steak up in the sky

"what is that? what's happening?" Rose asks as her smile disappears quickly, Y/n stares at Harriet with fire in his eyes, not thinking about why he knew something was coming, it doesn't matter now, he feels his blood boil as he he grits his teeth before speaking in a very low voice

"they killed them." he says and then turns to The Doctor, the man sees the fury in Y/n's eyes but understands it, he shares the same anger, Y/n whispers something to The Doctor and he nods getting closer to Harriet's assistant, five words, and she's done.

"Oh, it's beautiful. What are they, meteors?" Rose asks looking at the sky,

The Doctor dressed up with a brown suit and a long coat on top, he's wearing white converse which Y/n, who loves sandshoes, appreciates about this new Doctor,

" It's the spaceship breaking up in the atmosphere. This isn't snow, it's ash." he explains looking at the sky as well

Y/n stays behind, watching the two of them, he listens to the conversation, he doesn't want to interrupt them, he doesn't want to be the third wheel really,

"Well, back to the Tardis. Same old life." he says looking at Rose

" On your own?" she asks biting her nail a but unsure about his answer, Y/n scoffs silently, of course not, look at him, the man is lost.

"Why, don't you want to come?" The Doctor asks her raising his eyebrows

"Well, yeah." she says and in that moment Y/n interrupts leaning against the TARDIS

"I'm invited too right? just checking" he asks crossing his arms

"I'd love for the both of you to come" The Doctor says looking at Y/n and then at Rose, she takes Y/n hand dragging him near them, and then she takes The Doctor's too, they start pointing at the stars asking in which direction they should go, wherever will do, for the first time ever Y/n is actually feeling good about something.

#9th doctor x reader #9th doctor #doctor who 60th anniversary #dw 60th #doctor who x male reader #x male y/n #10th doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x male reader #x reader #x y/n #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who #doctor who x y/n #doctor who x reader #ninth doctor x reader #ninth doctor #doctor who x you

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se-hinton-confessions · 4 months ago

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It's really amazing to see how fan fiction has "evolved" in the last handful of years. 10 yeas ago in 2014 you could write about a character being a shape shifting wolf and no one would bat an eye. 20 years ago, you could write a crack fic about a character being a secretly wish granting fairy and no one said anything.

Now, if the characters aren't exactly acting the way they do by the tv show or movie (or book sometimes) or if the scenario isn't a certain percentage of "canon compliant" then it's trash.

That's not what fan fiction was originally about and I'm really sad to see it almost become almost commercialized to a point. Forget how popular a fic is, the problem is people want an extension to what they see on tv or read in the book to a T and that's not fair. Fan fiction is supposed to be fun, first and foremost. It's supposed to be this wacky, miss mash of internet escapism. I fear everyone is writing fanfiction so it's publish worthy or close to it.

There is nothing wrong with taking a fanfic seriously. If someone wants to post a piece of art with correct grammar, spelling and have some realism to how the characters react/respond to a situation, then that's fine. But we mustn't forget our roots. I remember reading a fanfic back in the early 2000's about Ponyboy turning into an actual horse at night and only his family knew his secret so Johnny and Dallas had to go find a cure. Something like that probably won't take off in today's standard of fanfic writing and it's sad.

I long for the days where I can just read something 'stupid' on the internet and basically not look for an extension of the book or TV show or Movie.

#fanfic i think has espically changed with the whole #booktok idea of what lit should be #the outsiders #the outsiders movie

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ghostfacd · 1 year ago

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ooo could you do like a canon? it’s totally fine if not luv!

yea yea! this is gonna be based off what i watched from his interviews so it might not be the best ??

- braden as a bf seems like he would always cling by your side, and like the man is literally what 6’3,, so he’s a very clingy tall boy

- i don’t think he realizes he’s just that tall, he’s always keeping an arm around your waist as he towers over you and you happily accept it

- braden always has this kind of dorky smile, he smiles with his teeth out and it’s just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen

- his go to resting face is where his lips are in a straight line and he looks like a sad puppy. it’s like 😐😐 except his eyes are like 🥹 LMAOO

- has you as his wallpaper, one hundred percent. it’s probably a pic of you kissing his cheek or something

- weekly dates, usually on weekends since he likes spending time with his girl

- you always make sure he eats after his games and he’s so so grateful for you,, he could literally cry when he sees you with a bag of food in the stands

- gives you his jersey cause he likes seeing you have his name plastered on your back (he’s geeking about it to his teammates)

- forces you to go to pure hockey with him (just like how my brother forces me to go to buy him new skates 🤨🤨) and his eyes literally shine as he fidgets through all the equipment

- makes dad jokes and frown and pinches your inner thigh when you don’t laugh (please laugh, it’s all he wants)

- loves being big spoon and he loves hearing about your day

- overall, tall dorky hockey bf.

#braden schneider

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cod-dump · 1 year ago

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HEY!!! So, I just want to you are an inspiration to writing everywhere and I love your stuff? And if it isn't too much I would like to know, can you rank all the best 141 Ships in one massive list? Personally SoapGhost at top, but I want to see what you think

Ranking the ships? Oh boy--

This is a good opportunity for me to show how I feel about some ships.

Keep in mind I ranked them by how I feel about them personally (also I put down as many as I could think of and if I missed one then I'll happily add on)

Has been edited, ships added

___

Soap/Ghost: Good ship, absolutely love it. Height diverse, canon banter that I can go over all day and not get bored, angst potential-- Have written so much for this ship and I'm not tired of it yet. Good ship, 10/10.

Alejandro/Rudy: Fucking LOVE this. They give off 'married for ten plus years and happily in love'. I want to write more for them because I fucking love them so much. 10/10, good ass ship.

Konig/Horangi: I admit I don't look into this ship as much but I do like what I see people write for them. I like them, good potential for fics, would like to write for at some point. 8/10.

Price/Nik: Yes, married for several years, knows each other better than themselves. I want/need to write more for them because I do like this ship. 10/10.

Price/Graves: Yes, fucking love it. So much potential of what you can do with it. I have written somethings for it and definitely plan on writing so much more. 10/10, fuck yes.

Price/Ghost: Not my favorite. 4/10

Price/Gaz: Not my favorite but I don’t have any problems with it. 5/10

Price/Soap: Not bad but I don’t have any ideas for it. 5/10.

Soap/Konig: Oh yes, I like this. 'Enemies to lovers'. I have so many ideas for this ship but I haven't written any fics on them yet. Definitely on my to do list. 10/10.

Ghost/Konig: Yes, big boy on big boy violence affection. 'Enemies to lovers'. Have a lot of ideas for them but I haven't written anything down yet. 8/10.

Farah/Alex: I like them, I think they're cute. I also think Alex is whipped and does whatever Farah wants to make her happy. Awesome malewife/girlboss relationship. 10/10.

Valeria/Graves: You know she tops. God, I can imagine them being the bitchiest couple on the face of the planet. They're so toxic yet it works for them. Would write for, have some ideas for them. 6/10.

Valeria/Alejandro: I mean, I love scornful ex-lovers just like anybody else. Maybe they were once pretty healthy in the past but they're definitely pretty toxic, too. Would write for if given a prompt (or if I get inspired all the sudden). 7/10.

Valeria/Rudy: GOD-- so many ideas involving past lovers, Valeria aiming to use Rudy to hurt Alejandro, just plan toxic ideas. Would write if requested or if I get randomly inspired. 8/10

Ghost/Rudy: Have written this before, I think it's cute. I haven't seen much for them, sadly. Might write this again (on my own or prompted). 8/10

Soap/Alejandro: Like the ship above, I think it's cute. I would write stuff for it. Bromance turned romance. 8/10

Price/Graves/Nik: FUCK YES. God, the brainrot is strong with this one. Love them so much, have so many ideas for them. Probably will never tire of them, OT3. 10/10.

Nik/Graves: God I have ideas for this one. Fuck yea new ideas to plague me in the middle of the night. 10/10.

Soap/Gaz: Yes, gimme. 'Friends to Lovers', good shit. Lots of fluff, silly shenanigans, all the good stuff. 10/10.

Gaz/Alex: Yes, love this. Cute as fuck. I can see a adorable slow burn romance, bromance to romance, didn't know they were dating-- I got ideas for it. Would love to write for it. 10/10.

Ghost/Gaz: Yes, I actually really like this one. Again, I see no content for it and it makes me sad. Love to write for it and put this ship out there. Some good, angsty slow burn. 10/10.

Farah/Gaz/Alex: I find adorable. I love this so much. Would write for happily. I haven't seen much content for them sadly (maybe it's because I don't look hard enough). Good ship, 10/10.

Alejandro/Valeria/Rudy: Got some pretty good ship ideas for this. Good ass angst with some fluff. The good stuff right here. Definitely could see this being a past relationship that ended badly, leaving two of them (or maybe all three) heartbroken. 8/10

Soap/Gaz/Ghost: Absol-fucking-lutely. Love this shit right here so much. I need to write more for it because it's a shame there's not more content for it. 10/10.

Price/Gaz/Soap/Ghost: I do like this oddly enough. I like them all together for some reason. 7/10

Ghost/Roach: Yes, I love this shit. Good angst potential, good past lovers potential. 'Lovers to friends to lovers' shit right here. 10/10

Soap/Roach: The chaos, the trouble they could get into-- Yes, absolutely. Good shit right there. Love to see it and would definitely write for it. 10/10.

Soap/Roach/Ghost: Yes, god yes. So many ways do make this happen. Angst, fluff, smut-- all that you possibly need in a ship. Fucking beautiful, love to see it, definitely would love to write it at some point. 10/10,

Soap/Gaz/Roach: Yes, yes, and yes. Good shit right here, cute and fluffy (though I could make it angsty if I tried). Silly shenanigans, chaos, all the good stuff. 10/10.

Soap/Gaz/Roach/Ghost: I haven't seen anything for this but I think it's cute and works. 8/10.

Soap/Graves: Good angst potential here, 'friends to lovers to enemies'. Would write for, been thinking of writing for it. 7/10.

Ghost/Graves: Much like the one above, very good. Angst is perfect, many ideas for this ship. Would love to write more for it. 7/10.

Soap/Ghost/Konig: Yes, I like this. Have several spicy ideas for it, a lot of drama. Haven't written anything for it yet but I would like to. 9/10.

Farah/Valeria: Toxic lesbian enemy to lovers? Mhmm yes. 7/10

Makarov/Yuri: Toxic ex lovers. Bad, manipulative situation that Yuri could fall back into because Makarov can read him like an open book. 6/10

Shepherd/Death: 10/10, OTP.

___

Used 10/10 rating because I couldn't even think of how I would rank them. If I missed any you would like to see tell me and I'll rate them.

(no particular order because I rated them as I thought of them)

#call of duty #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #ships #ship ratings #ask #thanks for the ask <3

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anxresi · 1 year ago

Text

More good points IMHO.

Can ANYONE say what Chloe got up to (despite Thomas’s best efforts to character assassinate her since the S3 finale, including radically changing her personality, destroying her relationships and inventing an entire canon-busting FLASHBACK episode to turn her into an irredeemable monster) is any worse than what this guy did?

The difference is: one gets to put all his ‘sins’ behind him with no effort whatsoever to be considered a true ‘hero’, the other loses everything whilst forcibly relocated from all the things she’s ever knows to live with her abusive mother.

And that’s not even getting into the blandly boring Mary-Sue bodysnatcher (that’s what I’m calling Zoe these days) who post-S5 has unashamedly taken over her life, her superhero role, her father and even probably her bedroom too (don’t be surprised if they forget Chloe ever existed now ‘I wish we could go back to the start and begin with Zoe’ etc).

So Thomas has revealed his hand finally at the writing table, and it spells M I S O G Y N Y. Males are allowed to show different facets to their development rather than just be black or white all the time yet still be redeemed and ‘forgiven’ in the end, whereas females are either perfect little nicey-nice sweet things who ship Adrienette unconditionally or eevviill personified and get ‘punished’ by him by basically having their in-show life overturned and destroyed.

You can tell he gets off on that, being the one in charge, a god with a quill. Just look at how much he boasts on Twitter about how he ‘gives us what we need, not what we want’ and instantly blocks ANYONE with any vague criticism of his harmful and horrible writing. Not to mention, his consistent non-provoked digs at Chloe. Yea, we know you hate her, dude. Like, move on already.

As a certain intergalactic planetary ranger said once, “what a sad, strange little man”. I know which one has his head up in space the most though…

…And it ain’t Buzz.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #ladybug #chloe bourgeois #ml salt #zag #disney #ml #queen bee

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mangoboogaloo2 · 5 months ago

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what's your hollow knight au... woah i;m so interested already

WOWOWOW hello :) I'm so glad u asked! Forgive me for the long post friend

1) Lost Kin Food Adventures/Also Hallownest Restored AU:

Part of me wants to keep it brief since I've story boarded a whole chapter of this I've kept but I got to edit it first (if I ever do ;-;)

- Lost Kin being a student and having an informal child/father type relationship Nail master Oro

- Lost kin learns that it's Nailmaster Oro's Hatchling day coming up soon, and they are invited by Sheo and the Nail Smith! Both teach them about birthdays/Hatchling day traditions

- They intend to make a cake! But learns that not many people in Hallownest don't know how to

- Although Lemm is a Relic-Seeker, Lost Kin learns that Lemm had heard of knowledge of adventurers cooking and baking, so they venture out to find the ingredients themselves together

Sideplot skirmishes/Character Moments:

- Hallownest is being rebuilt, and more bugs are flooding in! Hornet makes Quirrel an informal advisor to The Hollow Knight to help organize the kingdom a bit much to Lemm's chagrin

- Lemm × Quirrel: Lemm worries that Quirrel is not thinking about himself after seeing him devote more time to restoring to kingdom. This leaves Quirrel kind of hurt and they fight over it sometimes.

- Lost Kin figuring out themselves battling trauma between the Radiance and Pale King, trapped between void and light.

- Canon Drama: There's still tension between Oro and Mato and the Nailmaster family is tryna fix that

- Minor Drabble: Quirrel and the Hollow Knight reminiscing over their trauma and how they heal to being scared about rebuilding the corpse that is Hallownest

**(I'd imagine Quirrel here thinking fondly of Lemm when he says "it's okay to be useless" from the Stag Beetles and Broken Legs fanfic and somehow paralleling that to the Hollow Knight's new responsibility as king to not have as much pressure. That fic by Aryashi and relationshipcrimes on Ao3 is amazing, go go go)

Notes:

- I'D ASSUME Sheo, Mato, and Oro are all triplets since they're practically identical but for that AU they've hatched on different days

- After installing Tumblr, I've seen SO MUCH food AU Stuff and I'm excited I'm not alone :_) I can't remember the exact creators that I've seen tho sadge

- Its funny since with this AU it assumes that Hallownest's gastronomy (at least in the baking department) being underwhelming as heck. I mean most people in Hallownest are warriors so I don't expect them too kek.

- Battling the fine line betwixt reality and fiction because I've done baking research on what Lemm and Lost kin CAN cook realistically but then like can bugs digest milk? Can bugs make a human cake and eat it too? Or do I have to use realistic substitutes? (Help I learned cockroaches can make milk, now you can know about it too HAH but yea no don't want that)

- Finally, definitely wanna flesh out Lemm and Lost Kin's relationship but I'm not sure how they would bond over in story. Maybe over Lemm's curiosity over the Pale family history and why these bugs look all the same and Lost Kin wanting to just experience life suffering from possession from radiance and such.

^pg 1 storyboard (also I just realized, I don't know really if vessels are born ? So that's kind of sad)

This my most beefiest au that I will probably not fully write out (maybe)? Since writing is not my strength at all but thinking of character interactions is so fun. I have more different AU stuff but saving them for other days yes

#hollow knight #ngl out of obligation ->#relic seeker lemm #lost kin #hk food buds au #boogle au

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justporo · 11 months ago

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I have multiple Astarion hot takes but I will mention two here.

I don't think he wants child because he is not a responsible person. I think either him and Tav/Durge will worry the risk of giving birth or not good in take care of child. However, adopting child is sweet to them.

The other is about few people prefer Astarion in mlm relationship than hetero relationship. I don't see the actual post but I heard they dislike hetero relationship fanart with Astarion. Most of the fans are cool but it is too unhinged to me especially Neil explicitly mentioned he is pansexual. Both relationships are good for me but fans insult the other for preferred sexuality is so baffling to me.

Hey Anon! Thanks for dropping in!

I'll say this upfront: both of these aren't even hot takes to me personally! (I know others would disagree vwbjnboew)

I've said that before: I also - personally - don't vibe too much with Astarion being a dad. Not that I'm saying that I can't see it at all and also: people hating on others who like to headcanon Dadstarion should respectfully shut their godsdamned piehole. I, personally, agree that Astarion would probably want to just live life to the fullest without the responsibility of a child - I'm not at all saying that you can't enjoy life when you have a kid but it is definitely different and raising children is a commitment. And I don't see Astarion making this type of commitment. Personally, I'd like him to just vibe, explore who he is and what he wants, indulge himself. And please also: this man needs to do some healing first in any case, imho.

Yea, I've also seen this fly around quite a lot and I have repeatedly posted about the fact that Astarion is pan. I will die on this fucking hill. (Might be because this character also helped me come to terms with my own pansexuality) Yes, in game we hear him talk a lot more about relationships with men, but he is - and might I repeat CANONICALLY - pansexual. Maybe he does have an inclination towards one side but that doesn't erase the fact. It's sad and potentially hurtful to see people willingly erase this fact because identities like e.g. pan/bi/ace are already having a hard time to justify themselves existing sometimes. You don't need to make it harder, hm 'kay?

So about all that once more: Think before you post?! This character is fictional but the people you hate on are real and so is the potential impact of hate or insults.

Personally, I see it like this: writers, artists, probably every fan has their own version of Astarion in their mind - that's fine and also cool to explore. Creatively building on a character or story essentially means you take it and make a bit of your own, right? That's legit and cool, but it is not the only version, others have different ones that are legitimate too, just as your own. You don't need to like another one's version, ideas or headcanons - but you should respect it!

That being said there are things imho, like in this case Astarion's sexual identity, that should not be glossed over or changed because it might be problematically impact stuff beyond the fictional realm.

Basically: live and let live. But keep in mind behind characters and blogs are real people.

Alright, this was a bit of a ramble - sowwy!

#poro answers #poro rambles #astarion #astarion ancunin #poro headcanons #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #Astarion is pan #deal with it #bg3 spoilers

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moomeecore · 7 months ago

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hey, i hope this isnt rude, but i value your thoughts on betty (and simon!) and i think about your various analytical pieces often.

so i hope this isnt too vague, but. ive been thinking about the ways betty and simon might differ from each other, specifically in the way they view...everything. do you think one of them has a 'sees the big picture but misses the small details' view and the other has a 'gets lost in the details, cant see the big picture' view? im not sure if they differ here, or if they are both the 'gets lost in the details' but going opposite ways...?

FINALLY getting around to awnsering this. i got sick so it took me even longer than i thought it would (had to wait until i could retain coherent thoughts)!!

Ok So, a lot of this is extrapolating (esp for betty) and goes very into more of a headcanons and Personal Interpretations area than a, like, canon analysis. in part bc the show dosen’t give us a ton of content of these characters (i mean, there’s plenty of simon content as ice king but im talking about pre and post ice king simon here). but yea im just gonna ramble. dont take this super seriously btw guys. again a lot of this is just personal Interpretation yknow

SO i think simon is definitely a “gets lost in the details guy”. at least like, overall. that man overanalyzes things until he goes into a state of paralysis and then he just passes out. in some ways he might better about this post being-freed-from-the-curse, on the basis of "had to survive the apocalypse by thinking on his feet", but also worse about it bc of the lasting impacts of having been ice king. because one of the Big Things about ice king is that he almost never thought anything through and just did things as soon as he thought of them. i think simon probably really wants to be Not Like Ice King and so might be scared of making choices too fast or acting too impulsive. i imagine he’s very worried about behaving like ice king and thats something thats in the back of his mind most of the time, impacting his confidence in his own choices & actions. but also f&c sorta shows that he has that issue of trauma responses causing him to have emotional outbursts and make quick decisions. so thats something to keep in mind.

i think he's, like stuck in a state of being scared to do things without thinking really hard abt them but then sometimes he does that and then he usually regrets it and feels really awful afterwards. not always guilty-awful even. f&c seems to show him feeling angry a lot. to me simon deals not just with guilt over being ice king or recovering from being ice king or Having strong reactions to things or making choices he regrets… but also with Anger At The Situation - a lot of feeling confused and not sure what to do and overwhelmed, i think . (i like that they let him be angry and frustrated, not just sad and depressed. i think this is very realistic to trauma related emotional responses)

the other thing abt simon is he tends to follow other people's lead on a lot of things. i think he just likes not having to deal with the pressure of making decisions. he seems more inclined to lead around f&c than around, like, finn, though. and betty. but i think that’s in part because he was taking on a protector role w them. but yeah. he does a lot of crazy shit in f&c but very noticeably does not really act as a lead decision maker. until they get to the vampire world and they get attacked for a second that man is yelling orders and breaking a chair over his knee and pulling out a pocket knife to carve it into a stake lighting fast. which i loved that. i loved that he gained so much confidence from being in Panic Mode when confronted w vampires Because those where something he had to deal with in the apocalypse when raising marcy. he had to know what to do for marcys sake. other than that tho he's usually making suggestions at most. and agreeing to do scary crazy shit lmao . EXCEPT he decides on his own in secret to try and contact golb . hehe (motivated by wants to see his wife)

(it also seems like when he feels more confident in something he's much more capable of making choices. (makes sense) he wasnt paralyzed by anxiety when going on that research expedition with betty, probably because he was literally getting a phd (or had a phd, the show was so weird abt that) in that subject. makes sense he knows what he's doing. and also is interesting bc in ep2 of fionna and cake when he goes on an Adventure with finn he's very scared and nervous, but then talks about how he "used to be quite the adventurer in [his] day", which fits into the theme f&c had w his character where he feels out of place and less confident bc his whole ass profession isn't really relevant anymore, and everything is so different from how it used to be. so yeah. current simon has even less self confidence and confidence in his own decision making than Back In The Day simon bc of that)

id like to say that…. i think that the fact that it took betty only a few years to summon and eldritch god to free simon from his curse meanwhile it took simon 12 years to get to the point where he kidnapped a guy to use in a summoning ritual to talk to betty is interesting. bc i really do think they both love each other, and are both obsessive and co dependent. but betty went off the deep end so fast, meanwhile simon took a lot longer to do something comparatively Less Evil for betty. i think that a lot of this is because simon is just less confident in his choices, more nervous about making decisions, and *slower* at making decisions. in part because of a obsessive focus on details (i also think a buncha other stuff contributed to the difference in how long it took betty vs simon to do differing levels of fucked up shit for eachother but Yeah that’s the relevant part.)

i wouldn't say betty is a "think about the big picture, ignore the details" person though, necessarily. maybe compared to simon she is, but she's still a huge fucking nerd. she's an academic! to me she's someone who takes issues and situations that are more subjective and translates them into concretely structured language in order to guide herself through what actions she should take (my friend responded to this with “so what youre saying is betty took a philosophy class and was like ‘aw yes! Math!’” and yeah that is exactly what im saying)

i feel like canon sort of implies this, and definitely doesn't Not Imply It, but i also think canon didn't flesh out her character very well, so in a lot of ways im making my own assertions. but i think she's the type of person who likes to view things in ways that are ....not necessarily less complicated, but more concrete? like she can handle an uber complicated math problem with ease, but the way a math problem is complicated is entirely different from the way a social interaction is complicated, you know. and she's way better equipped for the first one.

so, basically, i think betty would be like: Dosent see the bigger picture.... but in a different way from simon, where instead of getting caught up on and overwhelmed by all the little details, she picks a specific angle to view the situation and then focuses on That, often to the detriment of viewing things from a wider, more complex and nuanced perspective. so better at seeing the bigger picture than simon, but still can miss a Lot…

i also feel like she leans towards viewing things as "identify a problem/issue, then find away to eliminate it" and "identify a goal, and find a way to reach it" . like i feel like she'd tackle social and personal situations in this way. it's not like she can't do things for fun or anything, but like, if she upset simon she'd go into Solving A Problem Mode and be like: “The issue is Simon Is Upset. The goal is Make Simon Not Upset. First i have to identify Why simon is Upset, and then how to make him Not Upset. This is The Current Goal I Must Complete.” like, not in an abstract sense. like shes literally narrating that to herself. i think she likes to focus in on "what's wrong here and how do i fix it" as opposed to dwelling on emotions and exploring nuance. (which may be a contributor to how she ended up in that “there’s so little me left anymore” state by temple of mars: she was so focused on Fixing the Problem that she didn’t allow herself to really process her feelings too deeply and that took a toll on her mental health.)

simon is maybe more aware of nuance, which could be part of why he gets caught up on details because he's like "this CANT be properly categorized into something more straightforward, there's actually a billion TRILLION little details and that is stressful". like simon desperately wishes things could be simplified down more but is usually like "actually no, a million things are happening actually". he's like me he would get upset if asked to rate his pain or feelings on a number scale at the doctor (i can’t do that shit for the life of me. Those things are far too complicated to put on a number scale in my eyes). meanwhile betty just will force things into concrete categories and steps and factors that Make Sense To Her with intense fervor and if she starts to have a "this is too complicated to address" moment she feels threatened and then tries very hard to reprocess things in a way that is easier, or just does her best to ignore the things that make stuff too complicated to address

i think betty tends to view things in medium-sized chunks that incorporate some but Not All details in a situation, and that she cares about small details and being thorough but feels like accomplishing the goal is the most important thing, so is willing and able to make a quick decision if she feels it's the only choice. like. she had a limited time before the portal closed, and she chose to jump through it, because she thought "the problem is that im not with simon. simon is on the other side of the portal. ill go there" it's not that she doesn't like to think things through. she loves to think things through! its just that OVERALL she is a Doer who wants to solve the problem and thinks taking action and doing something is way better than sitting there and missing an opportunity. betty will think through the details if she has time, but if she doesnt, she just breaks things down into whatever is most easy to digest and process, and then takes the option that seems.like it will get the most desired outcome based on the available info. and also shes just very confident and headstrong. and THATS. why she punched bella noche

In my eyes betty likes having rules and defined, structured processes about what to do or how to deal with stuff. and she dosen’t really like changing those. she's very autistic. she hates change i think. so does simon. but i think that simon would be more likely to be like: the change in situation is so upsetting that it's making it harder to think and process things, so he just gets overwhelmed and has an even harder time addressing whatever is happening or comprehending it. meanwhile betty is quick to try and find the easiest way to rerout her thinking to fit the new change, she's just really fucking pissed off and stressed out about it (part of this to me is she hates feeling powerless & hates feeling like she might fail). she copes with changes in her surroundings by finding a way to connect the changed situation as well and as fast as possible with her pre existing methods of tackling situations. i think bettys also worse at handling changes in people than changes in situation. to quote my friend when we where texting about this “Situations dont have feelings”.

Like. Betty has so many skills. so much knowledge. but isn’t great with people. And she gets to know people and figures out how to understand them and then THEY CHANGE??? ILLEGAL. and so… like…this is literally her whole thing with simon!! elements seems to imply that betty originally views things as "simon is cursed, i have to fix the curse". but when she makes an attempt to meet simon where he’s at and try to interact with him as ice king, she is unable to handle it. she is upset that he is different, so much so that she concludes the only way to view things is to see them as separate people, even though it was implied that she wasn't doing that before! she was approaching it like he was Simon With Memory Loss…..but then she does her villain betrayal scene and now she's all "things will be back to just me and simon, and you won't exist" . meaning before she directly started interacting with him, she was able to view him as simon, but when she did interact with him for an extended period of time and found out how different he had become, she felt so threatened by this that the only way she could handle it was by switching her view in order to not have to confront the idea that simon could have changed that much. it also meant switching her view to a place where she would be okay hurting simon. but when he starts to protest, get upset, ask what's wrong, and worst of all, insist that he's worthy of respect, that starts to stress her out and she has to talk out loud to herself to reassure herself that she's doing the right thing

and in that scene simon goes "i don't know who this simon guy is, im ice king", which i think is a Big line - he's responded to simon in the past, but doesnt always. Like. he's inconsistent in whether or not he's aware that's a way of referring to him, which makes sense bc he seems to have memory lapses where he remembers things fine one minute and forgets them the next, them remembers about them way later. anyway having him say that simultaneously provides a Confirmation of bettys new perspective, but it also… isn’t meant to. i feel like, to the audience, its saying that "simon has changed so much, he's entirely different now. and this is the way things are, and betty should accept this, but she cant" . to betty its telling her she’s right, but that kind of sucks, because she’s not totally sure how much she wants to be right (she dosen’t want this to be simon, but she also dosen’t want simon to be gone)

(i think the idea of betty Swapping her perspective abt simon during elements as a coping strategy to deal w the panic of What If Simon Is Different + the moral dilemma of potentially hurting him fits nicely into the "betty has bpd" interpretation . my girl is splitting)

(also ik many people interpret simon and ice king as Literally being entirely different people but tbh i think that is way less interesting and doesn't make a lot of sense with the canon. but also ik this is partially because what people consider to be "different people" is subjective. like it depends somewhat on ur perception of identity and stuff. also having different interpretations is valid and fair and all that - and adventure time is often very loose in its text and there’s lots of ways to interpret it. but whatever man im just saying my feelings and That is and Always Will Be the Same guy to me and i think that perspective is waay more interesting to explore than simon getting possessed by an alternate personality or whatever. so im just going under that interpretation….. i think some ppl would perceive the "im ice king" line as being a conformation of them as separate people but to me it's a more abstract representation of the idea that a Drastic Change has taken place that Cannot be reversed!!.... which. Ok eventually it is but tbh i doubt they even knew how they'd end the show by this point and i still think in the context of elements it still works very well as a way driving home both how betty is Not Handling the Situation Well while also making you empathize with her bc u also know how hard that must have been for her to hear)

i think betty is very person-oriented in a unique way!!she's codependent while also being low empathy, introverted, and in many ways socially inept, which is an interesting combo! i really get the vibe that she has always struggled socially and had trouble fitting in, so attaches really heavily to people who she does feel a connection to, and works really, really hard to maintain the relationships she has. i like to think she’s scared of rejection…

i think simon is much more empathetic, emotion-driven, and in tune with others than betty, but i also think he can be Very bad at actually understanding other people on many levels - like with his obliviousness to betty being interested in him romantically until she spelled it out for him, or to the impact of bettys earlier sacrifices. simon also, with the mission to get the crown in f&c, despite his empathetic nature and love for his friends, does not seem to consider that putting the crown on would upset his friends. This shows a "focusing on one thing and missing something else" scenario, and perhaps more of a "thinking abt the big picture" (saving f&c's world) over the details (friends would be sad) thing. so that's interesting. (although i think part of this example in particular stems from his self hatred preventing him from really thinking that his friends would be upset if he did that. but in a sense it is focusing on big picture over details). So theres some nuance there i think

BUT Anyway, i think this issue probably is mainly with him struggling to read people, or fully understand others perspectives, despite caring deeply about people and feeling Upset when he can tell other people are Upset. he cares and he feels very emotionally connected to people, especially people he cares about…. he just isn't that great at picking up on things sometimes. (also. Worth noting, i think its def shown that while simon may be very caring towards his friends and is a generally nice and approachable, well meaning person who wants whats best for other people. He still is very capable of Hating People and Doing Bad Things On Purpose. Don’t want to ignore that. also hes very desensitized to bad things happening in many respects lmao. So its not like hes just always super nice and caring and amazing. He still murdered choose goose to death and That is via the power of choose goose being annoying and Simon Loving Betty)

Betty also struggles to understand other people but instead of being downright oblivious to certain things or being unsure and nervous she finds relating to people and understanding their actions and emotions to be actively difficult and makes an active effort to understand people in a bit of a scientist-looking-at-a-subject way. Which can be helpful sometimes and less helpful other times. like. it's good that she has a way to navigate social interactions . but also that way of addressing things isn't always conductive to a healthy relationship, especially when she doesn't really let simon in on the fact that she's making these sort of analyses where she's like "what will maximize Simon Being Happy and how do i accomplish this" sometimes to her own detriment. simon is just like "wow betty is so confident and good at knowing what she wants" meanwhile betty is like "i will make the best choice For Simon" betty i think is better than simon at reading people but not good at Empathizing With Others Emotions or really Understanding or relating to the emotions behind their actions .

she also is shown to, despite caring So much about simon, not be very considerate or caring towards others (not the same as being low empathy & etc dw im not equating them. Its just on the topic of How She Views Others!!!). To be fair, we don’t see nearly enough of her interacting with people besides simon, but i like to think that she just sorta struggles to really care about and have compassion for Random People but deeply cares about those she is Really close too (but as far as we know, thats just simon)

OVERALLi think they see the world very similarly in some ways and very differently in others and it's an interesting balance. also they are both Autistic. In cconclusion !!

betty

likes to break things down into concrete concepts because she struggles to comprehend more subjective and nuanced experiences, especially in social situations + Feels more comfortable approaching things from a “scientific” perspective because it is familiar and easy for her to navigate; threatened by uncertainty and comforted by things that are more straightforward and well-defined

doesn't dwell on things a ton (esp not as much as simon) because she's very goal-oriented and focused on the Now. she wants to get to the next step. that often then means ignoring Her Own Feelings Or Needs if she deems Other Things to be more relevant or important than them (not good for your mental health) + this also means she’s better at making quick decisions! she cares about details and prefers to have All The Relevant Info but is willing and able to cut things down to a “wider-picture” that helps her make whatever choices will help her achieve her goal - that wider picture just may not always be the Full Actual wider picture.

struggles to put herself in other people's shoes - finds it easier to view herself as an outside party with the goal of achieving the ideal outcome in a social situation. In general has low empathy and struggles to understand/relate to others feelings, which impacts her perspective on things and how she handles/views situations.

(not really mentioned earlier but idk where else to put it:) i also think she has that Autism Trait where you focus in on a specific goal you want to achieve and struggle to focus on anything else until it's accomplished (and that that sort of thinking pattern happened with curing simons curse). where you put off doing anything, even things you could do, until something that you Need to happen (according to your brain, not the real world) happens. Betty put off being person until simon was saved. she put Everything on hold until she accomplished her mission. and this is in a way a form of not seeing the bigger picture, because its overly focusing on a specific thing at the expense of others

(bettys better at balancing seeing the details & the big picture in a sense, but more like. she picks a medium sized chunk of what is going on and focuses on that and acknowledges details when able to but is willing and able to make split second decisions based on little info and is confident in doing so. but whereas i think simon might have more of a "sees the whole big picture but then gets caught up on the details" thing going on, i think betty just straight up focuses on One Portion of something, of varying sizes, which could or could not he considered a "detail", but then almost completely ignores everything else, viewing things as individual challenges or events that need to be addressed before anything else can be)

simon

is someone who really likes to think things through, and can easily get hung up on details and can easily get overwhelmed by those details and sent into a state of anxiety-fueled-spiraling or decision making paralysis

this is worse probably for Current simon because he’s also Trying To DIstance Himself from his identity as ice king, and as ice king he had no impulse control and thought things through very little. so simon likely puts even more pressure on himself to think things through! unfortunately hes also Going Through A Lot Emotionally and sometimes that’s too much and he Dosen’t think things through and just acts on how he’s feeling. And that makes him feel Worse about himself and just Everything in general

he is more confident with his decision making skills if he feels more prepared/knowledgeable on the subject at hand or is taking on a caretaker role (like with marcy, or f&c). but currently he dosen’t have a lot of that going on so that kinda sucks for his self confidence.

simon is better at empathizing with people than betty & at creating connections with others & is more caring towards people he dosen’t know that well - and so may consider Other People more in his perspectives on things. But on the other hand hes not always the best at reading people or understanding their perspectives, even if he feels emotional connections and cares about people, so he can easily overlook other people’s struggles or perspectives within an issue - even if he cares deeply about their wellbeing (very relevant to his relationship with betty)

he’s generally more emotion driven than betty, and dwells on & ruminates about his feelings, sometimes to the point of obscuring his understanding of a situation or his ability to engage with it. On The Other Hand this means he at least acknowledges how he’s feeling meanwhile betty is like “im classifying that as irrelevant information until further notice” lmao.

he’s better at understanding nuance & subjectivity than betty but this contributes to his habit of getting-overwhelmed by everything & Overthinking

(simon focuses on details over the big picture overall. he easily gets caught up in details and panics. he traps himself in cycles of worrying about details that can paralyze him when making decisions, and so prefers to not have to make choices. BUT simons "paralyzed with fear of making decisions" state can often be overturned by the power of Having Strong Emotions and his decisions may be Less Good because of the power of not being great and understanding other people. he's very emotion-driven and currently suffering from a billion mental health issues so sometimes all that gets in the way of his natural over-thinking. hes got a better understanding of nuance than betty & is better at Empathizing with others and more considerate but not all too great at reading them or recognizing others Feelings or Behaviors)

I THINK I REPEATED A LOT IN THIS. AGAIN, KIND OF JUST RAMBLING. HOPEFULLY IT WAS SOMEWHAT COHERENT

#text #asks

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