jjk0 hc about how gojo killed geto. how romantic would it have been for gojo to have stabbed geto whilst kissing him, holding onto the vain hope that perhaps a piece of geto's departing soul would ultimately find its way home to his own at the end of it all? how romantic would it have been if gojo had swallowed down what he could get of geto's first and last connection to the rest of humanity, to him, in the acrid metal of suguru's blood post death?
after all, blood is the only thing in the hierarchy of the world to have ever been above gojo himself, since nothing else has ever or will ever really hold the privilege of truly touching geto's heart. so only when the crimson is bubbling up in geto's mouth and being drawn away from his blue lips does gojo ever pull away. he takes a page out of geto's book and swallows it.
"you could at least curse me at the end." geto's blood on his lips, on his hands, on his shirt, becomes a curse in its own right.
46 notes
·
View notes
I keep thinking about Durge, who, even after defying Bhaal, is never truly free from their father's legacy.
Because yes, the Urge is gone, the cursed blood of Bhaal doesn't call to them anymore. But body remembers, even if mind doesn't. Body knows what it did, it knows what it was created for. It's instinctual, bone-deep reflexes of a person raised to be the perfect murderer. It's little twitches and how easily opponents fall: foes and former allies alike.
It's small glimpses of the past, because mind doesn't remember, but the body DOES. It's the eerie familiarity of darkest corners of Baldur's Gate, it's people recognizing Durge on the streets, people they don't remember but who remember THEM.
It's the feeling of being haunted by your own self.
It's the body of Ketheric, the bloody mess left of Orin, Gortash's lifeless frame. It's the knowledge you're the last one, what this tragic story of conquer started with you and ends with you.
It's the feeling of emptiness where bubbling joy once was, the blood on the blade what brings no feelings. It's being charming, or kind, or honest, or gentle, or honorable, but at the end of the day still being the best in the art of murder - and who are they if not Bhaal's unholy blade?
Godless and fatherless, struggling to reimagine themselves.
Especially when memories come; they never return fully, never in the whole picture. But glimpses, the shards of existence what was once theirs cut deeper than any ritual blade would.
I keep thinking about Durge weighted down by the grief of the world, guilt of the world.
Alone: without a god, a father, a sister, a partner (Gortash, bc these two were absolutely insane for each other).
Alone and with whole life ahead; lost and confused and with hands bloodied.
Hero, people call them. They don't feel like a hero.
235 notes
·
View notes
I just came up with the best angsty yet dark idea for a mafiafell sans x reader ARGHHHHH
this is kinda dark, and idk much about lobotomy. The times are set to the 1940s obviously, THIS IS NOT ROMANTICISING ANYTHING YOU SEE HERE!
Trigger warning! Lobotomy? Idk, shits fucked UP
reader is already married to a man who works under sans, reader only meets sans through the work parties sans throws as their husband’s plus one.
sans has strong feelings for reader but doesn’t say anything even if he’s extremely envious of their husband, he wishes it was him who could hold you and kiss you..
it’d be one sided at first, sans slowly opening up to reader and dropping down his walls as he falls for reader more and more while reader realises that maybe their husband isn’t as great a man as they believed when they married him
reader gets in a big fight with their husband, unbeknownst to sans as he gets ready to tell reader his feelings even if she’s already married.. he can feel something there!
if only he knew that that one big fight you had with your husband was the straw that broke the camels back for him.
Sans hosted another party at his mansion, looking around for you amongst the guests but you’re nowhere to be found. He stormed to your husband and rudely asked where you were, when he was told you were in the garden outside he ignored your husbands attempts at conversation.
he saw your back facing him as you sat on the stone bench, facing the water fountain they set up years back. He couldn’t hide the grin he had as he walked over, nerves biting at his bones
when he walked to sit next to you and finally saw that face he fell in love with he felt his soul stop. Noticing the stitch on the side of you’re forehead before you slowly turned to look up at him with this.. dead look in your eyes, a look he only saw when he watched the life leave the eyes of punks who crossed sans.
you smiled up at him, in a daze as you sat still. Sans hands gripped into tight fists before he unclenched them to shakily cup your head so gently
“Oh doll… what ave’ they done to ya…?”
if sans had known just how dangerous your marriage with that bastard of a husband you were changed to was he’d have never hired him, he’d kill him.. he’ll kill him-
sans wrapped his arms around you, you just made a confused sound but let it happen.
sans always called you a doll, doll face, so many petty pet names.. but right now he just wanted to call you y/n and have you act like it….
not like a mindless doll.
25 notes
·
View notes
"you're so cute when you're angry" okay but what if gut you right here and now like slimy piece of shit you are.
what if i rip your throat out. what if i bite all of your fingers off or break your ankles for you
the last thing you think when you're bleeding out from me severing your arm off and my foot is crushing your head into the pavement will not be 'cute'.
13 notes
·
View notes