smilesatdawnmain · 2 days ago
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in the Tragedy of six
Maybe the question may sound very strange, but what type of clothing do children wear or usually wear? (sorry if the question is uncomfortable)
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Happy to show~!!!! This is how I view generally what they wear. They wear more then these three outfits, but you'll often see them like this. It goes as followed:
Their Mission outfit to the Left, Their Casual outfit in the middle, and their "Needing to dress fancy" outfit to the right.
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elainiisms · 2 years ago
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y'all are always complaining about how gay rep has to be perfect and unproblematic like speak for yourself i personally love it when they try to murder each other
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mournersandfunerals · 2 years ago
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why is everyone screaming about Kaz in the water? is it a book thing? i haven't read them yet, but im confused hahaha
Oh bestie...😬
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viperra1 · 2 months ago
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villain and violent, infant and innocent baby, both arms cradle you now both arms cradle you now
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arthursfuckinghat · 5 months ago
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The fishing trip with Hosea and Dutch has a special place in my heart, but it makes me realise how much loss Arthur had gone through in regards to his animal companions.
"Remember those big salmon I caught in Montana last year? We had a banquet planned that night until Copper went and scoffed the lot!"
"You never had control of that dog, Arthur."
"He had some spirit though. Never lost the puppy in him, right to the end."
Not only did Arthur lose his childhood dog in the last year, his beloved horse sometime not long after, but then also Cain, the camp dog - and he was furious with Micah for whatever he'd done to that poor dog.
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waitineedaname · 29 days ago
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I've received a sudden influx of followers because of an entirely unrelated textpost from several years ago, which means all of you legally have to read my current interest in order to understand my blog. ooooh you wanna read scum villain's self-saving system so bad (Anna's archive link since the internet archive is down)
some quotes to further persuade you:
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also read my fanfiction. hi.
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xobloodletter · 5 months ago
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got the sierra madre blues
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sapphiccyranodebergerac · 5 months ago
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kaz brekker is ace and he and inej could never be together intimately, and that is painful but also like fucking awesome. like yes young adult fantasy but with realism in characters. not every problem is overcomable, not every pairing with chemistry ends up together.
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OH MY DESTINY, HOW FAR YOU HAVE SPRUNG NOW ; SATORU GOJO
synopsis; satoru gojo goes north.
word count; 5.3k
contents; satoru gojo, canon divergence, HEAVY jjk spoilers (for chapter 236!! but also kinda 237), fix-it fic, me coping w/ the manga for 5k words straight, canon-typical violence and death, implied stsg, probably non-canon compliant use of binding vows (but do i care? no), gojo satoru lives.
a/n; yeaaa this is literally just me coping <3 needed to write this for my mental health. he’s fine guys trust me
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the experience is not altogether unfamiliar, on its own.
he’s felt it before. even now, he can still vividly recall it; a girl he failed to protect, a boy he failed to save. a man with a scar on his bottom lip.
that sickening numbness, as he lied in a pool of his own blood. sticking to his hair and tattered clothes, the colour red flooding his subconscious. that cold, cold sensation — a jarring shift, chilling and ruthless, going from everything to nothing. tiptoeing the line between life and death. 
emptiness. sinking deeper into the abyss, that all-enveloping darkness. that awful feeling of pure helplessness.
(he could never forget it.)
back then, though, gojo is certain he didn’t feel this way. all he could think about twelve years ago was survival — clinging to the weak flutter of his heart, a dying butterfly. clawing his way up to the skies. anything to escape that harrowing sensation, a kind of desperation all humans feel in the face of certain death, spurring him on. but now —
he almost welcomes it. nearly content in its approach. it should frighten him, but it doesn’t.
through half-lidded eyes, vision blurred by sweat and blood and dust, gojo watches the sky.
it's beautiful, he thinks. as beautiful as ever. peaceful, unchanging, soothing in an eerie kind of way. that clear blue, fading a little at the corners as his muddled mind grows just a little darker, a little more fatigued. he can barely gather the strength to keep his eyelids open. 
yet he keeps his gaze on that endless sky, as if it’s all he’s ever known.
with every passing second, the world grows just a little more blurry. pale dots spread around the corners of his vision, like grains of stardust in an ever-expanding cosmos, clouding his senses. there’s a buzzing in his head that won’t go away. everything looks as if it's spinning, and he can barely tell left from right, north from south. everything is growing darker, so fast that it’s alarming, and gojo can’t seem to even think clearly.
but he can still see that blue, blue sky. bluer than he ever remembers it being. even as snow begins to fall, descending upon shinjuku as if bidding him farewell. the sky takes on a gray hue, but that shade of blue is still all gojo can see, as he takes shallow breaths and half-heartedly attempts to remain conscious. willing himself not to give in just yet, choking on his own blood. 
and it's an odd feeling, really. one he never thought he'd meet again, but here it is, it's back — and it's all-consuming. beckoning him into a place he’s never been before. the unknown. 
it's not scary. gojo doesn’t think he has it in him to feel fear, anymore. but it's a strange sensation, as death kisses its way up his neck, sending shivers down his spine; as the numbness spreads, devouring him whole.
it’s unknown. thoroughly and wholly. and that unknown is overwhelming, all-encompassing, it’s all he can see before him, it's —
ah.
gojo takes a deep breath. the air burns his lungs.
everything's ending, isn't it?
it would be so easy. to simply close his eyes, let them flutter shut as that all-encompassing sensation takes him down to earth. to allow himself to simply rest, for a moment. wouldn’t that be nice?
it would be so easy.
gojo watches the sky. it's all he can do. 
the numbness keeps spreading throughout every cell of his body. he can barely feel the blood trickling down his chin, or the harsh bite of the winter cold, his skin buzzing with ache. he can't feel his arms or his legs, and he knows exactly why. everything in the world is closing in on him and god, he just feels so fucking tired.
ah. ah. more darkness. more numbness.
everything and nothing, all at once. slipping away into oblivion. the snow keeps falling but he can't see anything, can't hear anything, can't feel anything, anything at all.
nothing. nothing. less than nothing.
— and then, suddenly, an airport.
"yo."
gojo blinks.
a boy. a boy with black hair, tied into a small bun. a dead boy. his best friend.
suguru stands before him, and he looks exactly the same as gojo remembers. young, bright, with those awkward bangs still hanging over his face. grinning boyishly, and greeting him with youthful cheer. 
gojo feels young, too, he realizes — the weight on his shoulders a little less heavy, the familiar black of his sunglasses obscuring his vision. but he can still see the flicker of suguru’s cursed energy clear as day. as if it never left him.
feigning a mild displeasure, gojo makes a face. he hears himself speak, but his mind and six eyes continue to spin in circles, trying to comprehend the sight in front of him. trying to make it understandable, figure out what’s going on. 
but he doesn’t succeed. because it’s impossible to understand. and, really, that’s answer enough. 
huh.
so this is what the afterlife is like?
he inhales through his nose, basking in the clear air, and it doesn’t burn his lungs. his chest feels lighter than it’s been in years.
that seems a little too good to be true. 
"you’re kidding me. this sucks.”
suguru makes a kind of face like he’s pouting, plopping down in the seat right next to gojo’s. the white haired boy stretches his limbs out and huffs, pretending the sight in front of him doesn't send a tremor running through his very soul.
suguru continues to speak and gojo continues to listen, all while observing the scenery in front of him.
the airport looks familiar. through the glass windows he can see a glimmer of the blue sky, and a plane waiting to take flight into the clouds. the air smells of summer and jet fuel and new beginnings. it’s pleasantly cool, a light breeze caressing his skin and coaxing a hum from the confines of his throat. 
(he remembers this airport. remembers having his arms full of vending machine snacks, trailing after suguru as he dealt with all the annoying technicalities. amanai was there, too, watching a plane soar up into the sky with childlike wonder. a little anxious, as she boarded the plane to okinawa, and then back to tokyo.
her first and last flight.)
suguru is there, right next to him, and he’s speaking. breathing. like something out of a dream, the kind that always haunts gojo in his sleep.
he breathes in, and then out. 
suguru is there. and not just him – nanami and haibara are, too. all young, all dead. all somehow breathing; he sees them inhale and he sees them exhale. he hears them speak and it’s like nothing ever changed. 
they speak of regrets, of south and of north. nanami doesn’t seem to regret a single thing, and gojo is glad. even yaga is there, he notices belatedly. even amanai, and her maid, and a certain man with a scar on his bottom lip. everyone all together again.
the airport buzzes with warmth. nostalgia, as suguru’s laughter rings in his ears. and gojo grins, in tandem, bright and childlike. wallowing in the tender atmosphere. 
the sight in front of his eyes is perfect, he thinks. absolutely perfect. a glimmer of spring, one he never quite managed to forget. a vibrant flicker of blue, one he thought he’d lost forever.
his one and only blue spring of youth, right in front of his all-seeing eyes.
a little too good to be true.
with a sigh, gojo stretches idly, smiling a little to himself. his joints don’t ache, his head isn’t buzzing with fatigue, and his heart feels lighter than it's been in recent memory. 
“now i’m hoping this isn’t a dream,” he hears himself mutter, allowing his eyes to flutter shut at last. he can still see suguru’s cursed energy, and everyone else’s. he isn’t alone. what a nice thought. 
and it’s strange, gojo thinks. it really is. he’s dead. sukuna killed him. he’s dead, his remains are lying somewhere in the streets of shinjuku, and that should bother him. he should be punching the floor and screaming, cursing sukuna’s name with every fiber of his being — it should frighten him, the realization that everything has ended.
but it doesn’t. 
gojo isn’t afraid. and he isn’t upset, either. he bears no grudge against anyone, just like that day twelve years ago.
he’s with suguru, now, and his juniors. his old teacher. the people he cares for are with him, and the airport smells so nice. everyone is young, and happy, and none of them will ever have to kill or be killed again. 
calling it anything less than heaven would be doing it a disservice. 
gojo smiles, exhaling a relieved breath. one he hadn’t realized he’d been holding til now, stuck in the back of his throat for the past decade. a tiny thought makes it to the forefront of his brain, like a spring breeze flitting in through an open window.
like this, he thinks, i could die with no regrets.
“— except that’s not true.” a voice proclaims. “is it?”
gojo opens his eyes.
suguru looks at him. everything goes silent. everyone else has already gone blurry, a little faded, as if they aren’t what’s really important. as if the entire world has narrowed down to just this; him, and suguru, in the corner of an airport too precious for words. that one decisive slice of heaven. 
suguru opens his mouth, and speaks, and his voice has a finality to it that fills gojo with a mellow kind of dread. 
they look into each other’s eyes, and both know what’s coming.
“the students are outclassed.” suguru rests his chin on the heel of his palm. ”you said it yourself — sukuna wasn’t giving it his all when he fought you. he still has more than a couple cards up his sleeve, doesn’t he? like his incarnation.”
gojo listens to suguru speak, not saying a word.
“they’re no match for him,” he continues, unperturbed. “all of them are going to die. every single one.”
suguru leans back in his chair, still looking straight into gojo’s eyes. seeing through him, gaze filled with a certain sharpness. a little cruel, but there’s a kindness there, too. as if he’s simply ripping the band-aid off, trying to make it as painless as possible. 
he clicks his tongue.
“and you still haven’t buried my body, either.”
a moment passes. then two.
gojo smiles to himself, rueful. a little saddened. 
“.. damn,” he grins, weakly. leaning back in his chair, slumping against the soft leather. “couldn’t you have kept indulging me for just a bit longer?”
suguru smiles. a soft thing, in the flicker of the light. a little too good to be true. “sorry,” he chimes. “but the plane is leaving soon.”
as if on cue, the pa system sounds.
flight to okinawa; departing in nineteen minutes.
“it hasn’t left, yet,” suguru hums, and it sounds like an inevitability. ringing in gojo’s ears. “you know what that means, don’t you?”
he does. he does, but it still hurts. gojo looks into suguru’s eyes, and sees himself reflected in them — young, transparent. blue. fading, but not quite faded. not quite dead.
and maybe it’s to be expected. maybe he was just trying to delude himself into believing the alternative, into believing that an afterlife as sweet as this could really be waiting for him. maybe it was naive, a childish fantasy. 
but still —
”haah.” a heavy exhale, fatigued. gojo slumps even further into his seat, squeezing his eyes shut. running a hand through the soft strands of his hair. ”oh, gimme a break. and here i thought i could finally relax for once.”
a chuckle flows from suguru’s lips, amused. ”you aren’t the type to go down like that,” he murmurs. ”c’mon, satoru. there are still things you need to do.”
”how?” gojo scoffs. ”i’m split in half. and i’m too exhausted to use my reverse cursed technique.”
”eh,” suguru shrugs. ”you’ll manage.”
gojo shoots him a dubious look. ”you’re acting like it’s a papercut,” he huffs, crossing his arms. ”my guts are on the fuckin’ pavement.”
”oh, quit your complaining already," suguru rolls his eyes, and shoots him an accusatory glance. "i died with a hole through my chest. at least your heart is still intact.”
”i wanted to make it painless for you!”
”well, it hurt like a bitch. so thanks for that.”
gojo pouts, fighting back a smile. he thinks suguru must be doing the same. and it’s juvenile, a little twisted — but then again, weren’t they always?
suguru cocks his head. beckoning gojo into taking action. ”you’ve still got some fight left in you,” he says, and there’s a fondness to it. ”you always do.”
”get up, satoru.”
silence. unbroken, unperturbed. if he focuses enough, he thinks he can hear the distant buzzing of cicadas, the crinkling of soda cans. the whistling of the wind. placebos; memories ghosting his subconscious. 
it’s quiet, for a while. gojo stares into space, blinking slowly. then he parts his lips.
”suguru.”
the boy in question turns towards him. but gojo looks up, instead — eyes set on the roof, like he’s trying to see beyond it. into the comfort of the blue sky. 
suguru hums, a cue for him to follow. and gojo closes his eyes.
”i think… i might be tired.”
silence. no one says a thing.
”i think i’d prefer to stay here,” he admits, a forlorn look in his eyes. tapping his fingers on his knee. ”in the past, like this.”
the scent of jet fuel and summer lies heavy in the air. gojo inhales it, greedy. as if savouring it. trying to make it a part of his being, filling his lungs with sweet nostalgia so it never goes away.
”we could just stay here. together,” he muses, barely above a whisper. there’s a kind of longing to the tilt of his voice, something soft. ”couldn’t we? never moving forward, or back.”
the words taste salty, on his tongue. an ocean breeze. a whisper; ”we could just stay like this.”
suguru’s gaze trails from satoru, down to his lap. his bangs follow the slow movement, silky strands falling over his eye. the chuckle that drifts from his lips doesn’t have much humour to it. 
”haha… you’ve never been the type to stay in one place for too long, satoru.”
gojo clenches his fist.
a moment passes.
”you want me to go back,” he hears himself say, somewhat bitter. ”you want me to go back, and then what? there’s nothing i can do. i’m not the strongest, anymore.”
”you are.” suguru’s voice is firm, decisive. ”you can still win. you know exactly what you need to do. there’s only one way to get out of this.”
gojo sighs. one hand in his hair, tousling it. mildly frustrated. ”… it’s risky.”
”you’re bleeding out.”
”if i do this — i won’t ever be the same.” gojo turns to look at suguru. ”i sure as hell won’t be the strongest, anymore.”
”and would that be such a bad thing?”
silence. the two boys look at each other — one dead, one half-alive, both connected to the other. for eternity. suguru’s eyes are full of understanding, as they look into the blue of satoru’s. 
”there’s always been a gap between you and everyone else. that’s what you said, before. aren’t you tired of it?”
a brief intake of breath. gojo closes his eyes.
that’s right. that aching gap. the solitude that comes with absolute strength — a weight he’s borne all his life. doomed never to connect with others, never to be understood. doomed to always live in the sky, far away from the earth and the ocean.
the title of the strongest. a cross he alone had to bear.
(did he ever really want it? or was he just resigned to it, conditioned from the very beginning?)
the feeling of isolation that’s been haunting him for decades seeps into his skin. the cruel knowledge that no one will ever truly know him; even worse, the knowledge that it’s all for the best. you can admire a flower, and help it bloom, but you can’t ask it to understand you.
such a cruel curse to be born with.
suguru’s voice fills his mind, his senses. the flicker of his cursed energy is gentle, like an ocean wave rolling in right before the sun sets. ”you said it yourself, satoru.” gojo can hear the smile in his voice. ”you love everyone.”
love. it always comes down to that, doesn't it? the greatest curse of them all.
(but he could never bring himself to fully throw it away.)
”there are still people waiting for you, out there,” suguru reminds him. and gojo knows that he’s right.
he still hasn’t buried suguru’s body. that thing is still inside his head, doing god knows what. and his students — they must be fighting sukuna, right now. if he’s lucky, no one’s dead yet. if he’s lucky. then there’s shoko, of course. and ijichi, everyone else from the school.
not just that — the world itself is waiting on him. waiting for him to pass on, so it can crumble away. waiting for him to make it, so he can stitch it back together. 
dying isn’t a luxury satoru gojo can afford. he knows that, he does, but —
(dammit.)
”suguru,” he starts, hesitant. voice more feeble than he ever remembers it sounding. almost childlike, in its uncertainty. “what… should i do, from here on out?” a beat. ”where should i go?”
suguru raises a single eyebrow, and then tilts his head. ”do you really need me to tell you that?” he asks, a little teasing. gojo’s reply is instantaneous.
”i do.”
the airport falls silent, again. 
”i’ll listen to you,” he elaborates, tapping the edge of his chair, absentminded. eyes shining with a glimmer of something awfully tender. ”so… it has to be you.”
suguru inhales, softly — fresh air wafting through his transparent lungs. breathing out in a meek chuckle, with a soft shake of his head. almost in disbelief. ”well, in that case…”
a smile. he meets gojo’s gaze. ”then i think you should go north.”
gojo looks into his eyes. a moment passes, slow, detached from space and time. a moment that matters more than anything. their eyes meet, and in suguru’s eyes, gojo sees a reflection of their youth.
what a shame.
”alrighty, then.”
placing his palms on his knees, the white haired man gets up from his seat. stretching his arms with a soft groan. a sigh flows from his lips, drifting out into the clear air. 
”so much for finally getting a vacation,” he huffs, frowning as he casts a jealous glance at his best friend. ”you dead people have it easy, you know that?”
suguru’s still smiling, but he’s not getting up from his seat. the pa system sounds, again. a little louder this time.
flight to okinawa; departing in six minutes.
a deep breath. air flows into his lungs, and then back out; soaking up the summer air he knows he’ll never quite get a taste of again. no summer will ever feel as warm as this one did.
suguru stays right where he is. young, dead. smiling. the same smile he wore when gojo killed him, framed by the setting sun. the same kind of sunset that’s beginning to form outside the translucent windows of the airport, nostalgic and sweet, dyeing the clouds in a soft pinkish hue.
it’s breathtaking. 
”will i see you?” gojo asks, before he can stop himself. eyes still stuck to the setting sun. ”when everything ends.”
suguru chuckles, once more. rueful. gojo thinks it sounds just a bit meek, a little like he’s holding back tears. ”maybe,” he breathes, shrugging halfheartedly. not meeting his eyes. ”who knows?”
it’s not the answer gojo wants to hear. but he’ll take what he can get.
and finally, suguru gets up. slowly, methodically. elegant, in the way he moves, the way he brushes non-existent dust off his baggy pants. smiling, hair swaying softly with the breeze. gojo finds his gaze, and that smile shifts into a lazy grin. one so distinctly suguru that it can’t possibly be just a figment of his imagination. 
”don’t find out too soon,” he quips, teasingly. ”alright?”
a slap. gojo doesn’t see it coming, and it knocks him forward — he stumbles slightly, lanky legs moving clumsily, sunglasses falling off at the impact. his back stings, a little. 
over his shoulder, he looks back at suguru. the boy has a hand raised, and his grin is playful, brimming with warmth. except he’s no longer a boy — now he’s wearing traditional robes, hair much longer, face a little more hardened. but that grin is still the same as ever. gojo thinks he looks almost proud.
”go get ’em, satoru.”
gojo blinks.
the grin that breaks out across his lips, then, is wide. bright, brimming with youth, lighting up every corner of his face. almost overwhelmingly sweet. it envelops his very being, as he stands there, clad in his black compression shirt and baggy pants. hair a little less messy than it was in high school, face a little more hardened — but he hopes his grin, at least, looks the same as ever.
he turns his back on suguru, and puffs out his chest. trying to hide the sappy smile still lingering on his lips, the glassiness of his eyes. his voice comes out loud, cheery, echoing throughout the airport — but still somehow so tender.
”roger that!”
gojo looks ahead. the airport is blurred, a little hazy, but a bright light shines farther up ahead. a beacon for him to follow, one that blinds him if he looks at it for too long. blue, white, golden — the colours of the sky. beckoning him forward, to a familiar place.
he takes one step north.
”ah, satoru. one more thing.”
the sound of suguru’s voice stops him in his tracks. ”hm?” gojo turns on his heel, white hair tousled by the soft breeze. a little confused. ”what is it now?”
suguru grins. the whole airport smells like spring. 
”—, — —.”
one long, tender moment passes by. gojo doesn’t even breathe, mouth falling open slightly, in a way that must look comical to the man in front of him.
the airport glimmers like a marble in the sun. transparent, blurred, but still somehow so real. suguru’s words echo in his mind. 
then gojo laughs, the sound bubbling up from his throat like seafoam on a scorching summer day. hearty and deep, coaxed out from the very bottom of his gut — genuine. a little breathless. he can’t wipe away the grin on his face, wouldn’t do it even if he could. his blue eyes crinkle, as he looks at suguru, showing off his dimples and teeth.
”so corny,” he teases. suguru rolls his eyes.
”hey, don’t blame me. this is your imagination.”
a huff slips from his lips. ”yeah, yeah…” gojo waves him off. then he meets his eyes, again, still grinning boyishly. ”i’ll hold you to that, okay?”
”got it,” suguru chirps. ”good luck out there, satoru.”
”pssh. who do you think you’re talking to?”
the men exchange smiles, one final time. funny, how that’s always how their story ends; with a heartfelt smile. even if it’s coated in blood, or nothing more than a figment of their imagination.
then gojo turns around, again, and takes a step forward. not looking back this time. trusting suguru to still be there, watching over him. like always.
the bright light at the end of the airport glimmers, tantalizing, mesmerizing. suguru is right — there’s only one way to get out of this. only one way to make it back alive.
and it’s risky. very much so. it’s a gamble, the greatest one gojo’s ever made, even worse than that time twelve years ago with the reverse cursed technique. 
it’s a gamble, all or nothing.
binding vows are dangerous, fickle things. built on equivalent exchange. give something and get something, of equal value. sacrifice and gain. 
gojo’s thought about it, before. a morbid curiosity.
what could he possibly gain by offering the greatest treasure of the jujutsu world? 
he lifts one hand up, to caress his face. lingering over the skin of his eyelids, now closed. but he can still see the cursed energy around him. burned into his retinas. 
the six eyes. the blessing of sight.
a blessing. a blessing he never once asked for, one he was simply born with. born with all this power, doomed to live above the rest. all for a pair of eyes that never seem to see the things that really matter.
and, really, it’s a gamble.
gojo takes a deep breath, and then one large step forward.
(buddha left the royal life behind him at 29 years of age, he recalls. and then he sought out enlightenment.)
the light comes closer, and closer. lotus flowers bless his path. he takes seven steps forward, and his path blooms out before him; one flower blooming by his feet for every step he takes. seven steps north.
i’ll give you everything, he speaks to the someone watching the world. a god, a natural order, himself — it doesn’t really matter. i’ll give you all six. 
in exchange — 
the light is close, now. so close he can almost touch it. it burns his skin, but he doesn’t falter. he doesn’t look away, eyes seeing through the blindness and reaching out for something. something alive.
don’t let me die, he bargains. give me enough of it to kill him.
i still have things i need to do.
one more step, out of the airport —
(and satoru gojo makes a sacrifice.)
a binding vow is made.
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the six eyes dissipate, like vapour drifting off into the darkness of a never-ending cosmos.
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when gojo opens his eyes, he’s met with a cold, gray sky. 
the world shifts on its axis before him.
everything looks different. he can’t see, but he can, it’s just not the same as before. it’s naked, and raw, and surface-level. not enough to sink his teeth into.
he can still see cursed energy, feel the flicker of it all around him, but it’s hazy. it’s not clear enough, not enough for him to get a good grasp on — like the world lost its saturation. like everything got tilted slightly to the left. an eerie feeling that something isn’t as it should be.
and wow, okay. this is new.
but gojo parts his lips, weakly, and breathes in — and the air tastes the same as ever. cold, crispy. it fills his lungs and he exhales it through his nose. a human act. a breath of life.
i’m still alive.
it’s an odd feeling, like someone took a heavy weight off his shoulders. like someone stripped him of everything that makes him him. an strange sensation, heavy, entirely impossible to ignore. however —
the gain after the loss hits him almost immediately, embracing him with a burst of cursed energy so violently overwhelming that his sight becomes entirely irrelevant. it devours his very being.
everything becomes a blur. 
— i’ll give you everything. 
so, in exchange…
give me enough cursed energy to go on a good rampage.
the cursed energy within him spikes, so sudden and violent that gojo fears his skin might break open. buzzing like flies inside his veins, a vibrant burst of life, every colour in the universe. all the power one can expect from willingly casting away the greatest jewel of the jujutsu world.
gojo moves his fingers. he can feel them, finally — all limbs intact. positive cursed energy flows from his brain, no longer exhausted beyond comprehension. enough, more than enough to give him access to every possibility within his soul.
belatedly, he realizes that his sight isn’t the only thing that’s been weakened. the control he’s grown so used to having over his cursed energy is dwindling, and fast; that firm grip seems to have left with the six eyes, replaced by a set of shaky hands. gojo has experience, and for now, it’s enough. but he still has to concentrate to contain the nearly overwhelming flicker of his cursed energy, stinging his skin as if it can’t fully be contained by his body anymore. prickling his veins. it feels a little like trying to keep water from running through the gaps between your fingers. 
and he feels naked, in a way, suddenly living without something that defines his very being. a little hollowed out. a little wrong, like someone reached a hand through his ribs and pulled out his heart. 
but damn, does it feel good.
his cursed energy output is all-encompassing. his mind feels more clear than he ever remembers it being, and it’s like the world is at his fingertips. something similar to what he felt twelve years ago, but still so different. 
it isn’t ascension, not even close. quite the opposite. but that feeling of freedom is still so abundant. it’s all he can see before him; endless possibilities. 
twelve years ago, satoru gojo faced a certain man, and rose to the skies. he will never, ever forget it. that flicker of eternal solitude, the burst of overwhelming euphoria. that sense of everything being just right.
twelve years of living in the sky, and now his feet meet the ground, at last.
everything feels different. everything looks different. things won’t be the same, ever again — but maybe, suguru was right. maybe that’s not such an awful thing.
to be reborn. to be given a choice.
gojo opens his eyes, and finally takes in all the sights before him. everything happens in a blur, so fast he can barely catch up — his body acts before his mind, and suddenly he’s face to face with sukuna.
not megumi, but sukuna. fully incarnated.
and he looks displeased. almost frustrated.
”how?” 
the look of pure shock on his face is more satisfying than gojo could ever put into words; the satisfaction of seeing a king fall to his knees.
somewhere in the background, he thinks he hears a cacophony of voices, awfully familiar in a way that has warmth blooming in his chest. the students, he assumes — voices of shock, and something he tentatively recognizes as relief. but he doesn’t have the time to let his guard down, just yet.
(no matter how much he’d like to look back at them and give them a self-assured peace sign, bask in their smiling faces.)
instead, he answers sukuna. ”a binding vow,” he grins, and he thinks he must look a little manic, gesturing towards his eyes with his thumb. ”gave these puppies away. didn’t expect that, did’ya?”
sukuna looks at him, for a second.
then he laughs, loud and ugly, grotesque. taunting. he looks at gojo with something that almost resembles pity, something bordering on disappointment.
”pathetic,” he spits, all teeth. ”what good is living if it’s not at the top?”
gojo simply smiles.
he recalls that one question. eleven years ago, somewhere close to the ruins of the very street he’s standing in now. the question that flipped his entire world upside down.
(are you the strongest because you’re satoru gojo? or are you satoru gojo because you’re the strongest?)
a grin breaks out across his lips. his cursed energy pulsates inside his veins, eager to be let loose, and he takes on a fighting stance. parting his lips to speak, unsure of whose question he’s answering.
”well, we’re about to find out.”
the sky is gray, grayer than ever. even so, all he can see is that familiar shade of blue. as clear as it’s always been, even without the six eyes. 
gojo smiles. 
just keep watching, suguru. 
this time, i definitely won’t lose.
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thesongofvillains · 2 years ago
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Jack saying in an interview that Calahan came to the Crows Brunches where they discussed their scenes together despite not being in any scenes with the rest of the Crows because ”it would not be the same without the six of us there” vs Wylan saying in Crooked Kingdom ”We were all supposed to make it” after finding out about Matthias’ death
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smilesatdawnmain · 3 months ago
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I dare you to make a Toxic Wukong
You know, I do have a... "Toxic" Wukong, in one of my fanfics. While we haven't gotten a chance to see it yet, Tragedy of Six, will have that version of Wukong. A man so afraid to lose anything else, that he is willing to keep everything he has left under lock and key at his mountain.
He completely seals off the mountain. So think of that seal that he has sealing off just the inside of the mountain, he puts one of those across the ENTIRE mountain. No one can come in or go out without his say so.
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anyoldfandom · 9 months ago
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I am actually. I am so emotional over the Salazar parents and I need to share this to tumblr too.
A lot of stories where the MC is adopted I feel. Either dismiss the biological parents and the impact they have on the kid's life, or makes them evil and abusive, framing the loss of the bio parents as a good thing, or at least something we shouldn't think about just look at this new family.
But Genrex doesn't do that. From the start, Rex wanted to find out more about his parents - it's one of his primary character motivations, next to helping people. He loves them, even though he doesn't know them.
And the more he finds out about them, the more he realizes they loved him. Rylander is consumed by guilt but as Rex's first connection to his pre-Event life, the first thing he does is hug him. And when he tells Rex about his parents, the two things Rex knows is that 1) they were scientists, and 2) that when he was in danger, they were desperate enough to use their secret, experimental technology to save him. Technology built from their desire to help the world, to save countless lives and end countless suffering.
And then. When he finds out that they were dead, he doesn't stop caring. It'd be so easy, too, to tie it up there - his parents were good people, he got his answer about them, the end. But they don't. He doesn't. Because the show is saying once again that they are his parents. He still calls them mom and dad, even as the show makes it clear Holiday and Six adopted Rex as their son. Even as the show even parallels Six and One with Rex and Six (and I will talk about that more later if I don't forget, trust me), to really drive home how much they're family. Rex even says he considers the two of them family, and later that he considers Noah, Claire and Annie family.
He has new family, the show tells us, but his old family still matters to him. He's upset that he never has the chance to meet his parents, that everything he hears about them, about his time with them, is secondhand knowledge. It tells us clearly that not only does Rex still love them, but that he still wants to know them. And everything we find out about them reinforces the love that they had for each other.
We see Abuela and the family in Mexico, who connect him to his birth family and tell him that he was so loved back then, and still is now. We see their office in Abysus through Rex's eyes. The picture of him and his dad on his desk. The drawing Rex drew, proudly pinned to the wall.
We see it in the familiarity of the drawing. That that robot, that build, was what Rex created when he was lost and scared and alone - that it was made to keep him safe. That it first appeared in his mind in a place he felt safe.
The show says, tenderly and softly, that the love is still there. That the fact these people died was nothing but a tragedy, that their love is a big part of what made Rex who he is today - that every molecule in his body is filled with their final gift to him. That every time he cures someone, every time he uses a build, every time he makes a machine - we see the love that they had for him.
And the way he quietly absorbs his father's face. The way he freezes and whispers "Mamá?" when he finds out Zag-Rs has their mother's voice. The fact that she even has her voice as a testament to Caesar's love, too - that it was meant to bring comfort and safety. The way Rex yells at Caesar when he finds out they have a family property, a connection to their past, the way he fights to protect it.
And, none of this takes away still from Six and Holiday being Rex's family too. None of this removes the work either set of parents did for him, the love either set has - the show says that it was unfair that the Salazar parents were lost. That Six and Holiday are not replacements, that they still love him as parents but play different roles in his life. They can not, and have no desire to, replace the Salazars. But Rex needs parents, he needs protectors, and so they will do what they can for him - at first out of necessity, to keep this kid they barely know safe, but then out of love. They aren't replacing what was lost, but are doing their best to do what Rex's bio parents would do. And they do mess up in it - they mess up in ways Rex's bio parents might not have. Six is clearly bad with showing affection, affection we saw the Salazars give Rex so easily, and Holiday is overworked and stressed constantly, sometimes breaking under the pressure and snapping at Rex and Six, things we never saw the Salazars do.
It's just. It's about how sometimes things will not be the same. They will be different. That doesn't mean the people you lost aren't still with you.
#This is also. Why I dislike the 'Rex was secretly made for the nanite experiments the accident was a lie' theory so much#Bc it assigns malice where the show says over and over again there was only love.#That this was only ever a tragedy of good people whose good intentions were manipulated and twisted.#And I think giving them something shitty to have done in the past especially goes against the message of the show's perspective on adoption#The family we choose is not always stronger than the family we are born to. Sometimes they are equal in different ways.#Rex's bio parents are gone but not replaced. They have also shaped who he is#Six and Holiday are just picking up where they left off. Because they have to.#Also I don't like the theory that Rex's parents are EVOs somewhere bc I think it diminishes the impact of the tragedy too.#I get. Wanting them to have a happy ending. But I think it's important to realize that this is the closest they can have to a happy ending.#Some things cannot be replaced. Or fixed. Sometimes life takes what we love and what loves us. And that is okay.#It is okay to be upset at that and it is okay to never fully move on.#'What about Caesar?' I have. Another post's worth of thoughts about him.#But I think he's also a character who is defined more by Rex by their relation and defined by the story by his guilt#I think he is the closest thing Rex has to a shitty bio family member and he is shitty in plenty of ways#But he's also a parallel to Rex in a lot of ways. He fails where Rex succeeds bc of it.#generator rex#genrex#Anyways. Sorry for the big post.
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cubbyhole-for-flea-bee · 8 months ago
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i have learned what shadowpeach is! and i think its hilarious
sun+moon coded, friends-to-enemies-to-?????? duo is so interesting i wanna put them under a microscope
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necrotic-nephilim · 1 month ago
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I started in DC by reading fanfics, but as I began to read actual comics, I started to be unable to read the actual fanfic that got me into it in the first place because it's so out of character.
But there are still some stories that I love to read because I love the found family trope so much, even if it isn't really accurate to the source material.
As a comics purist (sometimes), are there tropes that you like enough that you'll still enjoy a fic even if it's not accurate to canon?
oh my god this is SUCH a fun question. bc while i started with the comics, there were certain characters and/or character dynamics where i was exposed to the fanon before the canon (just bc it's hard to read everything when you start out just to read some fanfic) and so i've definitely experienced the fanon to canon transition. (*especially* with Jason Todd. i had only read 80s/90s stuff where he was already dead or the New-52 bc that was on-going when i got into comics and man. the fanon misunderstandings i had about him before i got frustrated and sat down to read all his pre-Flashpoint stuff were absolutely bonkers.) and aside from that, whilst i tend to prefer canon over fanon, i'm not past giving fanon its flowers for occasionally having really interesting insights. occasionally. so some of my fanon "guilty pleasure" tropes would probably be
Morally Grey Tim Drake - this is one where if you try to back it up with canon, i *will* get salty about it. of everyone in the Batfam aside from maybe Bruce and Cass, Tim has the *most* black and white morals. often his internal conflicts are routed in such an inability to compromise his moral views and it can cause him to clash with other characters. he's *very* stiff and rigid in his beliefs and is *rare* to compromise in even the smallest ways. i mean, DC has repeatedly used Tim Drake of Tomorrow/Savior/Gun Batman!Tim for a reason. it's to demonstrate that of everyone, Tim *cannot* have his morals compromised. there's no grey area for him. he's zero or a hundred, so if he tips over the edge of "too far" he tips *all the way*, and doing so is one of his worst fears, how he could go "too far" if he let himself. a couple panels out of context from Red Robin (2009) (which was a grief spiral for Tim to begin with) don't change that. now that said. if it's done *right*, i sort of love Tim being morally grey in fanfic. it takes a specific flavor for me, and it's incredibly important to include that mental spiral along with it, of him struggling to justify it. i don't have any interest in "Tim Drake is loosy goosy with Bruce's morals and has the highest kill count and no one knows teehee" bc it doesn't play with the interesting parts of making Tim morally grey, which are fracturing his psyche. but all in all, i think it's fun to put Tim in a morally grey area and i will read it in fanfic and i enjoy writing it a lot
Joker Junior!Tim Drake - i've not written it on this account (yet) but on my main ao3 account one of my biggest fics surrounds this concept. this is one of those "well *technically* it's canon but only in a specific very divorced from the comics universe and would not work at all in the main timeline" so, i categorize it as fanon in that 95% of fics exploring the concept are not doing so within the Batman Beyond universe, but the main timeline. i just love it. I'll take any excuse to whump Tim, but this concept is so fun. psychologically breaking Tim will always be my favorite pastime. there are so many ways to explore the long-term effects this could have on him, how it could affect the Batfam. i'm not a fan of it being used as a "gotcha" to Jason or Babs' trauma with the Joker to paint Tim as the Ultimate Victim, but it is fun to see how their relationships would be affected by being mutual victims of him. (i have a vague JayTim idea where TIm fully retires from being Robin after being Joker Junior and killing the Joker, making Steph Robin for most of his typical Robin era and Jason still tracks him down out of curiosity bc he wants to know what happened and all. very underbaked but i've got thoughts.)
Renegade/Apprentice of Slade!Dick Grayson - this is another one where yes, this happened *sort of* in canon, but i highly doubt most people writing Renegate!Dick have read or are actually pulling from Nightwing: Renegade. it's just an exploration fo the concept fo Dick being Slade's apprentice and i will always eat it up in any capacity. whether Dick grows up with Slade from a young age, or chooses Slade for whatever reason later in life. it's not anything that works in canon bc it compromises Dick morally (similar to the above with Tim) and therefore will always come across incredibly fanon in most fics. but i can't say i don't enjoy it. it's fun to make Dick a little morally fucked up and see what you can make him under Slade's tutelage.
Jason & Damian Meeting in the League -there's no world where i believe this could work in the canon comics. (maybe in the Young Justice cartoon i suppose, but even then i think it's iffy) i would go as far to say it's wildly unrealistic. i don't see a world where Ra's would let Jason anywhere *near* Damian, bc Jason was Talia's pet project that he didn't approve of. that all said, there's something very interesting about how they *could've* met and them potentially bonding during that timeframe. them being somewhat brotherly during this time because Jason sees Bruce in Damian and sort of latches onto the kid and Damian is full of wonder hearing real stories about Batman and Robin, then that getting violently ripped away by Jason leaving the League is fun to me. it's fun how that could affect them within the Batfam and all. it's super fanon to me, but i do not care. i will eat it up
Bad Dad Clark Kent/Good Dad Lex Luthor - i will admit as a late, i've been less and less kind to this particular fanon bc of everything i've argued with people about, *this* one seems the most pervasive as misunderstood fanon. i don't mind when fanon exists, my gripe is when ppl try to claim it's canon. and the *arguments* i've had over this with people who can never seem to cite an actual comic are... frustrating. but that said, i think there is something fun to this strictly in fanon. the duality of who you expect to accept Kon and who you expect to hurt him being flipped is just sort of fun for the occasional guilty pleasure fic. it can make Kon's internal conflict a bit more interesting. the same goes for the Jon favoritism from Clark, it's not a canon thing (and i rlly wish ppl understood how complicated the timeline of Kon and Jon is and any distance from Clark toward Kon isn't malice, it's that Kon is from a timeline that Clark does not remember in the current canon so Clark just straight up doesn't know the poor kid.) but it's sort of fun to give Kon that complex of being overlooked and forgotten sometimes. making Kon just a *bit* more Luthor than Kent will *always* appeal to me in fanfic, especially if he *knows* it's wrong but craves approval from anyone who will give it.
Good Dad Bruce Wayne - i'll die on the hill Bruce is canonically a shitty father. maybe not to the extreme some people write him as, but he's not great at it. that said, i enjoy it in fanfiction. sometimes, i just want silly fluff or hurt/comfort where Bruce finally gets it right and manages to comfort whatever Batkid is in the fic. one of my favorite fics of all time is hinged on Bruce being a good dad, so i think it's just fun to explore how good the relationships *could* be, if Bruce was slightly less of an asshole. i usually prefer him as an asshole, but there are times i want low stakes nonsense.
Gotham Rogues Having Soft Spots for Robin(s) - just about every Rogue in Gotham has done something absolutely irredeemable, and most of them don't like or care about anyone in the Batfamily. but if there's a fic where one of the Robins inexplicably is sort of close with a Rogue and they have a cute silly relationship out of it? I'll eat it up i fear. Steph and the Riddler are besties? I'll believe it. Tim and Scarecrow get along pretty well? give me ten of these. Rogues protecting Robins just hits a spot. the unexpected nature of the relationship, as well as the fact they see each other regularly, can make a lot of good fodder.
#necrotic answerings#canon vs fanon#batfanon#batfamily#I was *going* to include “Janet and Jack Drake are bad parents”#then realized I don't really like that fanon anymore.#but I used to go *hard* for it even knowing it wasn't canon. it was all projection but still#nowadays I think the tragedy of Tim losing his parents the way he did is *far* worse if they loved him and were good to him.#I'm so serious about the Kon thing i've had *nasty* arguments where ppl got so rude to me telling me to “Google it”#like listen I get it. kon's canon backstory is currently difficult to understand#the timeline of the superboy mantle is a little confusing and most people have not read young justice (2019)#so for fanon it's far easier to simplify it as “clark just kinda sucks to kon” and i enjoy that#but the canon is also fun. it's fun when you consider how fucked up it is most people don't remember kon#and the timeline he remembers doesn't exist anymore.#also technically since they never killed off new-52!superboy on page there could be two superboys/kon-els running around rn. who knows.#i like to believe there is bc it's funny.#i have wanted to write a new-52!konkon/tim/kon sandwich#with the “is it selfcest or not” question#bc new-52!kon wasn't a clone of clark and lex.#so like. he's arguably a different character just sharing the name kon-el for some reason#also on the nightwing: renegade thing i know *damn* well most fanon-only fans haven't read it (no shade in that)#bc the fanon crowd despises devin grayson and she wrote it.#one day i'll write a meta about fandom treatment of devin grayson trust me.#this question was SO fun#i feel like i should have more answers?#if you'd asked me like six months ago this list would be three times as long#but the more i exist in this fandom somehow the saltier i get idk what's happening#so now i'm more and more attached to canon#but i will never begrudge someone for liking fanon#like i said my issue with it is the confusion of what is canon
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dandelionsandderivatives · 6 months ago
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While I was languishing on the bed of illness last week, I spent a lot of time reading up on American Girl Doll lore. Dear followers, you may see a lot of American Girl content in the following weeks. I say this not to apologize, but to entice.
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cashmere-caveman · 1 year ago
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[1] Richard Siken, Portrait of Fryderyk in Shifting Light [2] Being Human S1E5 [3] Clint Smith, When people say, “we have made it through worse before” [4] Being Human S3E8 [5] Guillermo del Toro at the 2018 Golden Globes [6] Being Human S1E6 [7] Allie X, Fresh Laundry [8] Being Human S1E5 [9] Christian Wiman, The Parable of Perfect Silence [10] Being Human S3E8 [11] Hanif Abdurraqib, And What Good Will Your Vanity Be When The Rapture Comes [12] Being Human S2E8 [13] Allie X, Fresh Laundry [14] Heidi Priebe, To Love Someone Long-term Is To attend A Thousand Funerals of The People They Used To Be [16] Being Human S3E8 [17] Christian Wiman, Flight
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