Prepare for the unexpected. (DPxDC)
Everyone knew about the reign of Pariah Dark. Even those who did not dabble in those realms have heard the tale of the tyrant. A power-hungry man who ruled over the dead with an iron fist.
Following the rise of Pariah Dark, his realm had been effectively cut off from communication. Many mystics and magic users knew better than to open the door of nightmares that could arise if Pariah Dark's reach went further than his own realm.
Except, the universe had plans to bring the realm of the dead back into the cards.
A new opponent, one that had all of Earth's heroes scrambling for options. A being with powers of a god over weather, destruction was on the horizon. A world ending threat.
It's the only reason the Justice League was doing this. In a deep bunker, far from close civilization as a precaution, the heroes looked on with grim expressions.
The world was already being threatened. It would be destroyed regardless of what the league did. So it only made sense to make the last ditch effort. To summon someone strong enough to defeat the threat.
No one wanted to do it. No one wanted to be the one to pull the realm of the dead back to the living. The consequences were untold if this succeeded. If Pariah Dark was freed and defeated the threat, whose to say he won't want control?
That was a problem for later. For the aftermath. For now, the league could only watch on with bated breath as Constantine completely the summon ritual.
They watched on as the shadows in the room seemed to darken and grow. As the sigil sputtered to life with a glow that was growing increasingly brighter. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, the temperature began to drop with eaching ticking second.
And then it was all gone.
The room stood perfectly still. Just as it had been moments before. Nothing changed. No giant king standing before them, no sign that the ritual worked.
The room stood deadly still for another beat before the murmurs started. The team trying to make sense of the situation, figure out what went wrong.
Constantine swore up and down that this was the correct ritual, taking offense that they would even think the problem was on his end. It only made it better when it finally happened.
A loud sound ripped through the room, pulling everyone's attention back to the summoning circle. Just in time to see a tear appear in the space above the circle.
A thin tear that ran the length of eight feet. The fabric of the dimension seems to curl at the edges, pulling back to reveal a deep glowing swirl of greens. A dark gloved hand reached through, fingers curling around the edge of the tear, stretching it even further.
A portal. The ritual had worked, but there had been a delay. A delay that had every hero nerves on edge. Each team member tensed, weapons at the ready as they watched the being stretch the portal to the right size.
Then, a foot stepped out with a heavy thud. A dark boot that looked otherworldly despite its similarity to mortal clothing. A deep black that seemed never-ending. A second foot quickly followed before a full body emerged from the portal.
Not many people in the room have ever seen Pariah Dark, let alone know what to expect. Based on what Constantine and Zatara had said, this wasn't Pariah Dark.
A man had stepped out of the portal, standing at almost seven feet tall, and built like a brick house. One glance at the glowing white hair, deadly red eyes, and shard teeth was enough to know this being was not to be messed with.
But there was no giant show of armor or royal garbs. There is no large crown at the top of his head or jewelry from the infinite realms laced around his neck.
Instead, the man stood before them in combat boots, worn-in ripped jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a spiked leather jacket. Despite his almost normal clothing choice, the man's jacket seemed to be a never-ending depth of the dark night sky. If one was to look closely enough, the cosmos could almost be made out in the sea of darkness.
None of that would have prepared them for when the man spoke. His tone sounded more bored than anything as he took a step forward.
"Oh, so now you need the help of the dead." The man had spoken, running a hand through his hair. When Batman took a step forward to speak, the man raised a hand. Immediately commanding silence in the single gesture. "I'm on babysitting duty and have yet to have a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."
Just like that, both the man and portal vanished into thin air. Leaving behind a group of stunned heroes. Not only was the man not Pariah Dark, but he was also supposedly babysitting.
"Did that just-"
The Flash had been the first voice to speak up, his eyes trained on where the man had once stood. Except he had barely made it through the first few words before the man was suddenly back.
The man that now had a child hanging off his shoulders and another teen being held up by his scruff. Unlike the man, these kids looked human.
Too human for Bruce's liking. The dark black hair and bright blue eyes had every heroes eyes flickering to Batman for just the briefest moment.
"This isn't fair! I'm not even the king. Why do I have to be here!" The teenager had been complaining the moment the man had reappeared. Arms crossed tight over his chest and seemingly used to being held dangling. "Besides, who brings kids to a show down! Wait til I tell mom about this."
"Aw, come on, Danny. This is gonna be fun!!" The younger girl seemed in much better spirits than the teen, Danny. She had climbed up the large man, sitting on his shoulders and resting her arms on the mess of glowing hair. "It's like take your kids to work day! Ooo, Dan! Can we fight too!?"
Unlike the two kids, the man looked purely exhausted and annoyed. The man, Dan, dropped Danny like a sack of potatoes as he took a long drink from the travel cup in his hand.
It didn't take a genius to recognize the look of an exhausted parent in Dan's expression. A look many of the league members were well acquainted to. A look that even had Batman grimacing with sympathy.
"Can it, little shits. You two were grounded, remember." Dan had growled at the kids before shifting his focus back on the team of heroes before them. His glowing eyes set in a deadly glare. "Pariah Dark isn't coming, and he never will. He's been dethroned and banished. We're the best you've got."
A summoning that started with a group of on edge and scared heroes looking for the ghost king, ended in a way no one expected.
No one was even sure if it made any sense. They weren't sure if they should feel hopeful or in despair.
Because truly, what was a ghostly man with two seemingly human children against a godlike foe with the control over the weather?
The unspoken question of power and ability seemed to vanish following Dan downing the metal travel cup of coffee, and crushing it in his fist.
He tossed it to the side, straighting up his posture as he looked over the heroes. Dan might not be a hero, but he's been playing family for too long.
An almost feral, bloodhungry grin spread across the man's face, sharp fangs on full display. The look made the man suddenly look even less human. He looked closer to a demon from the pits of hell rather than the exhausted parent he looked just a few seconds ago.
"Point me in the direction of this bastard. It's been too long since I let loose and had some fun."
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I find sukuna's enraged reaction to being pitied so interesting, considering that he, himself, admitted that he didn't expect that someone (or maybe just yuuji) offering him pity would anger him so much. honestly looking at all sukuna's interaction with other characters like jogo, yuuji, gojo... the contrast in how he talks about being strong and how he talks about being weak is quite striking.
despite having a huge superiority complex, he never gives any boasting comments about himself, like gojo for example. he even praises others, sorcerer and curses alike, for their strength, which again is contrary to gojo who often belittles and degrades his opponents. however, sukuna's behaviour is not actually opposite of gojo's, because while he admires others' strength, he finds being weak disgusting in itself. you see, gojo never had a problem with other people being weak because being weak is not something he could ever relate to like "yeah, those guys are weak but how is that my problem?". others being weak never really disgusted him, not like it does sukuna, but rather amused him (probably why he teased and bullied utahime and ichiji so much lol) anyway, my point is that, sukuna's attitude doesn't contrast gojo's, it mirrors it.
gojo's problem was that he was obsessed with being the strongest. he desperately wanted to live up to his title, but not because he had some deep-seated insecurity about being weak, but because that's all he's ever been. he wrapped his entire identity around it, which in result made him believe that he could only relate to people who were just as strong as him. then there is sukuna... who on the other hand... (dramatic pause)... is obsessed with being weak or rather he desperately doesn't want to be seen as someone who's weak. sukuna keeps insulting and belittling yuuji for being weak, despite yuuji CLEARLY not being weak. yuuji's own humanity and the strength he derives from it, exposes sukuna's own deep-seated weakness and dare I say... insecurity.
at the beginning of this post I said how sukuna has a big superiority complex, which now, after the recent canon events it almost borderlines with an inferiority complex. the thing is that, superiority complex and inferiority complex are kinda the same thing. they both stem from a deep-seated feeling of inadequacy, with the only difference being that someone with an inferiority complex tends to express these feelings as anxiety and submissiveness, whereas someone with a superiority complex overcompensates by acting as if they're god's gift to mankind, which is the later for both sukuna and gojo. however, unlike gojo, whose own superiority complex comes from the fact he was treated like a god by everyone in his clan since he was born, sukuna's superiority complex and its origins can still only be found in the subtext. we know that he was born an unwanted little wretch and people hated him, most likely feared him due to his own abnormal appearance and probably later his overwhelming strength. I don't want to dive too much into this since we don't actually know sukuna's backstory, we can only speculate based on what we know. however, it's his conversation with yuuji after he possessed megumi that interest me the most. he says...
Well, saying it from my perspective; why are all of you so weak. Why (are you) so obsessed over living despite being so weak
and let's not forget, sukuna is the only character who thinks yuuji is weak, which makes the rest of his speech all the more interesting, as he continues...
How can living things who keep collapsing easily say that they wish to be happy forever?
now this is funny, because several chapters later he admitted that no matter how many times he tries to break yuuji, he keeps getting back up, he's either contradicting himself again (and well.. he IS) or...
It’s better for all of you to spend your whole life crushing fitting misfortune for you
he's not only referring to yuuji here... sukuna genuinely believes that the weak should spend their whole lives chewing on their suffering, as is their natural state... but why?
after yuuji offered sukuna mercy, sukuna felt looked down upon and got down right pissed, which even shocked sukuna himself. why would that offend him? after all, he KNOWS he's strong not even gojo's taunts could get to him or yorozu trying to teach him about love, something he supposedly already knows about. why did yuuji offering him sympathy enraged him so much? shouldn't he just laugh in his face for believing he could beat him?? it seems like.. MAYBE.. in that moment, yuuji unintentionally touched on a very sore spot there, revealing sukuna's own insecurity: being seen as weak.
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everything about Gavriil feels suffocating.
how his presence alone can be almost overwhelming, how his massive body cages you everytime without a chance to escape. you wouldn't dare to try anyway, knowing that you don't even have a say against a creature of his caliber. he will find you. in your dreams, in your nightmares. in your room.
how he will be intense and vague about everything just for the sake of it; to confuse you further, to see the conflict of emotions in your eyes merge with arousal. eventually your hesitance turns into acceptance, a desperate need to feel his hands all over you. and he will be oh so grateful to fulfill that desire.
how his thick tongue pushes past your lips and into your mouth, reaching almost the back of your throat, relishing in the muffled little sounds you make. your drool mixed with his saliva drips down your chin, and your hazy eyes look up at him when he finally pulls away, giving you a second to breathe.
how his hips are slamming into you relentlessly, your wetness and lack of resistance allowing him to move almost effortlessly. forced to hold onto him for dear life instead of pushing away. all of your morals and principles are being tossed out of the window every single time he comes to you. he has you where he wants you, and will not stop until he feels like you can't take it anymore.
and how in the morning he vanishes away, leaving you guessing: was it just another wet dream? but the cold stickiness between your legs tells you more than you need to know.
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i was sent to boarding school at six years old.
i lived in an old victorian manor house on top of a hill in the middle of nowhere. there were teachers and house mistresses, but mostly there were other children. i saw my family very little, and even when i did see them, they were strangers who knew practically nothing about me. they might as well not have existed.
aside from my school lessons, i learned everything from these other, isolated children. what was good and bad, cool and uncool, what was important and what was a supposedly proportional response to any of these ideas being challenged. it was, as you'd expect, a feral little echo chamber.
and amongst it all were the expectations (academic, mostly). we were special, we were better than other children that we nebulously understood went to school elsewhere and lived differently somehow (i didn't meet any non boarding school kids until I was 12 or 13, and then only saw them in the summer).
when expectations are put on you like that, when you're so steeped in then that you know nothing else, you convince yourself that they happen to align with your own desires. they push you, but you push yourself harder. later, as an adult, you'll look back and wonder why you threw yourself so rabidly into something you never really wanted. when you're in it, you can't think of doing anything else, because you learn all your shame there, too.
so there you are, a cohort of young people who fiercely believe that you are independently chasing something that matters more than anything else in the world. and when adults look at you pityingly and dare to suggest you are being fed into a big, pointless machine that will chew you up and spit you out into adulthood with nothing to show for it, you get angry. because they don't understand, they couldn't possibly understand. you throw yourself willingly into the machine. it chews you up like meat (the adults were right all along, of course).
and that's why I'm so emotional about the fourth house, because tamsyn muir fucking nailed boarding school trauma.
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