"shipping" Doesn't Feel Like The Right Term Anymore. Like Im Not Looking At These Two Characters And

What if Gojo killed the Star Religious group?

A small drabble I wrote on the short and immediate aftermath of the Hidden Inventory arc. I always wondered what would happen if Gojo decided to kill all of those people. And what would happen to Suguru as a result?

It’s rather short, I wrote it a few years ago and posted it on Ao3. I’ve fixed it with some edits and improvements. Contains a Suguru who doesn’t quite understand his feelings for Satoru- but he has them anyway.

Tags

-angst -unspoken feelings -the idiots are emotionally stunted -suguru wasn't there -suguru pov -trauma -there is no happy ending but it's not a sad one either -our blue still lives -youth, ah youth -denial

Here it is; enjoy :)

Cup Noodles

All things considered, maybe Suguru would’ve rather found Satoru dead.

If he really thought about it, maybe it would’ve made more sense to Suguru if he had bid his final farewell to a corpse. To mourn Satoru at his grave and curse the elders for letting another teenager die. But of course, Satoru could not confine himself to tradition, nor the mere concept of normal.

Non-standard, perhaps, and yet so predictable in his unpredictability.

Satoru had gone and massacred the entire Star Religious Group after Amanai had been killed. Satoru, in all of his power, had decidedly made a mess of the entire affair. Both metaphorically, and literally. Mangled corpses littered across the grounds, the walls of the building left in tact, if not for the cracks caused by the bodies thrown across them, and the gore left in their crevices. Suguru knew that Satoru could be clean with his technique. He could be fast too, eviscerate them all in a splatter, leave nothing but a pool of blood in his wake. Instead, he tortured them. Slowly, and deliberately. And judging by the fact that all of their faces had been left in tact, frozen in looks of horror and fear, Suguru could see the warning Satoru left behind.

This was personal.

Obviously, Suguru didn’t believe it. He didn’t want to. But also, it made sense, of course Satoru would just go ahead and do that. Despite that assassin telling him that he had managed to kill Satoru, shortly after shooting Amanai dead in front of him, of course Satoru had gone and risen from the dead with a revenge. He bets that man had died too, probably torn to shreds by Satoru himself. What a fool for even considering that Satoru had died- The voice in Suguru’s head grabs himself by the shoulders and repeats the sentence like a curse.

Nobody could kill Gojo Satoru.

“By law of Jujutsu Society, Special-Grade Curse User Gojo Satoru is now to be executed on-sight, for the murder of over 50 non-sorcerers.”

Suguru scoffs at the mere thought of it.

Nobody could kill Gojo Satoru.

Amongst the chaos of it all, Shoko still finds time to pull out a cigarette and smoke it, sitting on the edge of the engawa. She somehow knows Suguru stands behind her, because she comments on the situation in a way that could only be directed at Suguru.

“Looks like you’re their new golden boy.”

Suguru’s ears begin to ring. He can’t find it in him to respond. Shoko fills the silence for both of them.

“Issuing an execution, huh? You and I both know that’s not possible.”

Shoko takes another drag, then turns to meet Suguru’s numb expression. She tosses her cigarette, stomps on it, and walks past Suguru.

“Say hi to him for me, will ya?”

Amongst all… this, amongst all the corpses and curses and suffocating elders, something dies alongside it, and as Suguru truly begins to realise the true weight of the situation, he can only cradle it and watch quietly as life slips from it and fades away.

He and Satoru were doomed from the start, weren’t they?

-

Suguru had received the text at 3:32 am. Suguru was still awake, at that point. Not like he ever slept any earlier on a normal night, anyway. Satoru had shut his phone off (as evidenced by the lack of response to calls or messages), but Suguru assumed he turned it back on to send him the message.

Suguru had two options.

One- Rat him out, show it to the elders and maybe settle this all for good, maybe they could all die trying to kill the strongest.

The other, throw on a hoodie and head for the nearest train station.

Suguru carefully turns the knob on Satoru’s dorm, packs an extra set of clothes and heads off, with extra cash in case they find an open convenience store. He takes care not to use any cursed energy on the way to the address Satoru sent him, lest someone decides to track him down.

As footsteps stomp on gravel, Suguru swallows the building bile in his throat, and ignores the growing ache in his heart. It all builds, it swirls and it rings, and Suguru feels drowned in that taste of vomit-rag. He could not throw up a curse, but it damn well felt like he would.

He realises he forgot to bring a hair tie. He couldn’t quite care to turn back to get one.

Gravel turns to pavement, and his feet hit the road.

At least, his goodbye would be on his own terms.

-

“You’re early.”

Suguru glares at Satoru, the lack of bloodstains adorning him unnerving. A constant reminder of the infinite space between them. And for the first time since they had met, Suguru genuinely considers Satoru as somebody untouchable.

“I guess I brought extra clothes for nothing.”

“Nah, I’ll still need them. Thanks for showing up.”

“…Yeah.”

Suguru sighs, tossing Satoru the backpack and sitting down at a table outside of the convenience store. Satoru opts for changing in the washroom inside, leaving Suguru alone with his thoughts. He then decides he doesn’t like his thoughts, so he wanders inside and buys two cup ramens for them, extra spicy, just because he can.

He tears the packets and pours them over the solid noodles, making sure each packet ends up empty. He fills them with hot water from the dispenser at front, carefully filling the water to the line. He brings them out to the table, setting their chopsticks on the lids to let the noodles cook.

He looks at the watch in the store- 4:06 am. The worker is playing on a DS behind the counter. Suguru lets himself become absorbed in the tedium, the faint sounds of beeps. Because otherwise he might just punch something.

Satoru eventually walks out of the washroom, new clothes on with the backpack thrown over his shoulder. He smiles at the sight of the ramen, then proceeds to sit down in front of a cup, and as a result, in front of Suguru.

“Mind if I keep the bag?”

“Yeah, I’ll just use yours back at the dorms.”

“Got it. Are the noodles cooked yet?”

“A few more minutes.”

“Ah. Wow, extra spicy?”

“Why? Can’t handle it?”

“Oh, shut up.”

It’s easy, Suguru thinks to himself. It’s so easy for them to just talk like this. To act like nothing’s wrong. To share a meal and throw jokes at each other. Satoru smiles, and for a moment, there really is nothing wrong in the world. It’s just them, Satoru and Suguru eating cup noodles at 4am at some convenience store.

Suguru decides to let himself pretend they’re just two normal teenagers, nothing more, and nothing less.

4:11 am.

“Ah, the noodles should be ready now.”

“Great.”

The two rip apart their chopsticks, and peel off the lids. Suguru liked to keep his on, open just enough to be able to access the whole cup. Satoru straight up peeled his clean off. They begin eating.

It’s just them, Suguru thinks. It’s nobody but them.

But it’s never been about just them, has it? It never was.

At least, it shouldn’t have been.

“Why’d you send me a text with your exact location? You know I could’ve come here just to execute you.”

“Well, I trust you.”

Satoru slurps his noodles, and Suguru stares at his.

“After all that, I’m not so sure I can even consider trusting, anymore.”

Satoru is still wearing his shades, but Suguru can feel his piercing gaze. Suguru looks back, and knows without a doubt they lock eyes.

“Did you have a reason?”

“No, not really.” Satoru answers, in the most casual way in the world.

Suguru clutches his chopsticks in a fist.

“Well? Was it worth it?”

“You tell me.” Satoru sits up. “Have they changed at all, back there?”

They’re panicked out of their minds. Suguru scoffs.

“You know they’ll hunt you down.”

“And you know if they do manage to find me-”

“Yeah. The strongest bullshit. Whatever.”

“…Exactly,” Satoru scoffs.

Suguru slowly eats more of his noodles, letting the spice burn on his tongue and sting his eyes.

“I… I want to tell you that we have to protect the weak. You know that as much as I do, no matter how much bullshit you spew about not believing in it.”

It’s just the spice. The ramen is spicy. That’s all.

“If I had arrived there, any earlier… would you still have done it?”

Satoru smiles. “Only if you told me to.”

Suguru swallows the noodles.

“I feel like a hypocrite.”

“Really.”

“You killed them… but I would’ve done the same, wouldn’t I? No matter how wrong it is… I just can’t stand those…”

The echo of a voice, a man standing above him. Was he unconscious? Was he dying? He felt a foot to his face, arrogance in spades. You were both beaten by a monkey like me who can’t even use Jujutsu.

“…Monkeys.”

Satoru offers no reply. Suguru lets his hair fall across his face, obscuring whatever look he might have on his face. Although, Suguru doesn’t know if he’s hiding from Satoru’s face, or hiding his own expression.

“After all they’ve done… How could anyone let them live?”

“Well, I didn’t.”

Suguru pauses, then laughs. He laughs and he cackles and he laughs. He looks at Satoru and everything becomes right. Satoru isn’t laughing though, but the humour is shared when he smiles back. Suguru must be going hysterical. He’s laughing and Satoru isn’t. What kind of world have they come to?

“I hate you.”

“You love me,” Satoru retorts.

“Shut the fuck up.”

For a moment, Suguru dares to feel the swirling in his chest. To dip his toes in and test the temperature. It’s surprisingly warm, almost unsettlingly so.

He’ll leave it be, for now. It’s something he doesn’t have the time to unpack. There are many, many more things that he should be worried about right now.

“Y’know, Suguru…”

“Hm?”

“…”

“Satoru?”

“Nothing, I just- I want you to know that… we’re still the same, yeah? I mean, you can come and hunt me down and try to kill me all you want or whatever, but to me, we’ll still be the same. Always. You’ll still be my… one and only, y’know?”

Suguru chuckles. “One and only? Cheesy shit, dude.”

“I’m being serious. You’re-“

“I know, I’m joking. We’re- we’re fine. Yeah. We’re fine.”

“Good… good.”

“Yeah.”

They finish up the last of their ramen, and it’s 5:24 am. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but the summer days last long, and the beginnings of dusk paint the sky in a dark blue.

Satoru stands up first, throwing the backpack over his shoulder, and tossing Suguru his phone.

“Keep it.”

“I get that you can’t keep it on you because of, well, tracking, but do I have to keep it?”

“Yeah. I’ve taken the sim out, so don’t worry. But there’s like, a whole album of videos and shit. Look at them if you’re bored, or whatever. I know there’s some pretty good music on there too.”

“You won’t miss it?”

“Nah. I’ll get a new phone. Besides, not like this is the last time we’ll ever see each other.”

Suguru shoots out of his seat.

“Wait, what are you planning to do anyway?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m being hunted by the police, and the government can deploy all the SWAT they want and they know it’s not enough to kill me. Let them sort it out. By the end, all I’ll get is a bounty placed on my head, and a legacy as the Jujutsu world’s boogeyman.” Satoru waves his arms around dramatically as he begins cleaning up his mess of a ramen cup.

“You’re not explaining anything.”

Satoru crumples the ramen cup in his hands. There’s a pause, and then, there’s Satoru’s angry voice. Except, it’s a different type of anger. A kind that Suguru hasn’t heard in his voice before. “I don’t, fucking, know, Suguru. I don’t fucking know. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna say fuck all and hand myself in. I’ll figure it out, eventually. And you’re gonna be told to go and find me, and you’re gonna be told to kill me. And every single time, you’re gonna fail, and we’ll keep meeting anyway.”

Suguru lets out an exasperated sigh. So much for preparing to bid farewell.

“Don’t go too far, yeah?”

“Don’t worry. I don’t think I can anyway.”

They throw out their ramen cups, and begin walking to the train station. It’s a silent walk, and Suguru absorbs every step they take, every moment they spend. The grey of the pavement, the dark blue of the night sky shifting into something purple. The sun is rising. Satoru walks next to him, the sound of his feet hitting the ground as a small reassurance that he’s still there- that his barrier wasn’t up. And Suguru realizes, Satoru is pretending too. That they’re two, normal people. On a very normal walk, on a very normal morning.

So Suguru takes it in- this normalcy. And he clings to it, tighter than he ever has before. And as they pass through the entrance gates of the train station, Satoru stops walking. He’s headed in a different direction, opposite to where Suguru needs to go.

This is it.

“So. See you later, then?”

Satoru grins. That stupid, shit-eating grin that Suguru hates.

No, he loathes it.

Suguru grins back. “Yeah. See you. Oh, and Shoko says hi.”

“Tell her I said hi back.”

“Yup… Satoru?”

“Yeah?”

Suguru doesn’t quite know what to do. He hasn’t said many goodbyes, and with the ones he has, he hugged them and promised not to die. He doesn’t exactly miss his parents though, not like he knows he will with Satoru.

He’s gonna fucking miss Satoru. Like a damn lot. A fucking ton.

It’s not like he’ll ever admit that though.

“Nothing. You’re just stupid.”

“You’re so mean to me, Suguru.”

“You deserve it.”

The silence rings between them one last time, and Suguru drinks it all in. The white of Satoru’s soft hair, the pale glow of his skin, the line of his jaw and the shapes of his build, the faint blue that peeks through his shades. He drinks in Satoru, in perhaps, the last glance he will take at him as just two, normal teenagers.

And Satoru stands there, as if waiting. And Suguru realizes, Satoru won’t go unless Suguru lets him.

Suguru swallows the vomit-rag taste in his throat.

“Until next time, then.”

“Mhm!”

They don’t hug. They don’t shake hands. Not even a high-five. Satoru just nods, smiles that stupid smile of his, and turns on his heel. As he walks away, Suguru no longer hears his footsteps. So Suguru does the same. Turns on his heel, and walks away. Miraculously, his train arrives at the platform the moment he looks at it. He boards it, and doesn’t look back.

Who knows what he would’ve done if he ever decided to look back.

-

6:02 am is when Suguru steps foot back into Jujutsu High. He knows nobody is awake with the lack of response as he steps through the barrier, and heads back to the dorms. And for the first time, in all of 48 hours, Suguru feels the heart-crushing weight of absence.

Satoru was no longer someone by his side.

This sinks in, as he walks into the dorms and there is no obnoxious chatter following him. Yet despite this, Satoru overwhelms his life like vines overgrown on a home old enough to have leaks.

He steps back into his own room, and Satoru lives in the place. The scratch on the wall from that time they had gotten into a fight while playing Super Mario Bros. The way the curtains were always closed because Satoru’s eyes were sensitive to too much light. A pack of hair ties Satoru bought for Suguru as an apology for said Mario Bros fight.

One of Satoru’s hoodies strewn across Suguru’s chair. A pile of manga the two of them traded so often, Suguru was sure neither of them remembered who bought what anymore. Stacks of video games, misplaced socks and clothes, manga and notebooks and pens and pencils, posters and cd’s.

So many bits and pieces of his life had only existed as a result of Satoru. And Satoru just wasn’t there anymore.

They say that you don’t realise what you have until it’s gone. Suguru learns that this rings true the hard way.

Satoru might’ve been alive, but not in the way Suguru knew him to be. Reachable by text. A knock next door. A tap on the shoulder. A kick to the shin.

Satoru would now always be farther and farther and unreachable than ever, and Suguru can only find it in him to laugh.

An arrogant, obnoxious, self-absorbed prick. Beyond his capacity for greatness, there was nothing more to him than that. Just another person to walk through Suguru’s life- that’s all he’ll ever be.

Suguru turns down the hall, swings Satoru’s dorm room open, kicks the door shut and collapses onto his bed.

Suguru feels an object press into his thigh from his pocket. Nah. I’ll get a new phone. Besides, not like this is the last time we’ll ever see each other.

He takes Satoru’s phone out of his pocket, and tosses it onto Satoru’s messy drawer.

He’s tired, Suguru decides. For a moment, just a moment, he’ll pretend nothing has changed.

We’ll still be the same, yeah?

(He hopes they will. God, he hopes they will.)

You’ll still be my… one and only, y’know?

(That hurt. Why did that hurt? Why did it make his heart pound and his head spin? Why’d that make him want to throw up and punch the living shit out of Satoru? One and only? Seriously? Did he really have nobody else? Was he the only person Satoru even considered? And why does the implications of that make him want to damn it all and find Satoru himself? Join him on whatever stupid escapade he was on? Betray all of Jujutsu Society and everything he stood for while he was at it?)

Suguru shuts his eyes.

(Things would be easier if they had just forgetten about each other.)

I don’t. Fucking. Know, Suguru.

He takes a deep breath.

(He hates Satoru.)

You love me.

The world stills. Suguru falls asleep. And he dreams of a world where Satoru never left, where he never killed those people, where he stayed alongside him, where things never change. And for some reason, Suguru doesn’t find comfort in that dream. Because somewhere along the way, it all goes wrong, and Suguru ends up dead in an alley.

When Suguru wakes up, he doesn’t remember much of the dream. But he continues on with the small notion of the possibility, that it could be worse. It could all be much, much worse.

And he’ll see Satoru again, someday, somewhere, even if as enemies, Suguru knows.

That at some point, there was just the two of them. And it would always be the two of them, even if the world demands otherwise.

You’ll still be… my one and only, y’know?

All Might was literally suicidal and people dont talk about it enough.

How it must've felt to have to pass on the one source of his strength, for years that has kept him at the top, his sole source of not only livelihood but also his way of helping others? How he must've felt knowing that he could not be the pillar of peace as he had been for almost four decades, that he had to subject another young person to carry that weight. How he must've felt after Kamino, after losing that power for good, after the entire nation saw him at his weakest.

His talk with Aizawa about deciding to live for the next generation, absolutely broke my heart. He felt useless, in a way probably none of us could ever even grasp. Not even izuku could.

What does it mean to be the entire world's pillar in one moment, the strongest man alive, only to go powerless in the next? It's no wonder Toshinori considered ending his life after Kamino- He didn't even look the same. What other option would you have but to end it all there? When you go from the man everyone looks to for help, to a man who can't even take a punch and survive?

But the fact he chose to live speaks volumes of his strength. His willingness to carry on, and help his students and successor fight with whatever strength remained. He helped Izuku during his tenture as a vigilante, because All Might would've done the exact same thing. He packed those lunches. He chased after Izuku, trying to give him the same support he knew All Might would've needed if he was the same age as Izuku.

It's why he put on that suit and fought All For One, even if it meant stalling and not defeating.

Because All Might is beyond his quirk, the same way Izuku is. He has the heart of a true hero.

The reason Izuku probably managed to survive those eight years without an ability to fight alongside his class- was because All Might was likely there beside him, both of them sharing the loss of their power after being at the front of the field. And they both know the importance of sharing their strength, their true strength, with future generations.

It was the strength of their hearts that put All Might and Deku above the rest.

theyre so adorable i hate them

I always see everybody talk abt izuku yapping and bakugou listening but nobody talks about the flipside of bakugou trash talking and izuku being like: ok kacchan ^^ (I just found this image)

OG UTENA COSPLAY ON MY FEED WE ARE SO BACK

a cosplay photo so old it was taken on actual film (which explains the streaks from my scanner) and the con we were at doesn’t even exist anymore. it was around 13 years ago actually now that I think about it.

sunrise on the reaping was so devastating and i ALREADY KNEW WHAT WOULD HAPPEN. doesn’t help that finnick did not get his happy ending!!! haymitch survived but i was STILL miserable. i am NOT surviving a finnick book.

You guys want Finnicks book so bad but personally Suzanne can keep it bro I don’t want to read what happens after his games I don’t think I could handle it. Sunrise on the Reaping destroyed me and I haven’t even finished it yet 😀

as much as i love stsg being happy together, nothing brings ME more joy than seeing them piss each other off. it’s so funny seeing these goofballs get on each others nerves (maybe because they’re the only two people in the world who can afford to do it

Gojo's plan

#youdamnmutt#thathadtobeaslur#heonlycallspeopleslursprovoked

anyone who thinks shouto todoroki is a sweet loving guy to everyone he meets needs to know he would call you a slur. he wouldn’t even think twice about it. you get in the way of him, his friends, or his ability to get food? slur. fuck you

theres a distinct difference between Katniss’s and Haymitch’s narration style that i think a lot of other people are noticing and it is that haymitch seems to know a lot more about District 12 and Panem than Katniss seemed to. and SotR might seem like lore dropping or name dropping but like. i think it says a lot about them as people.

I think the lack of context we get from Katniss isnt just due to propaganda, but largely due to the fact that she’s so deeply rooted in poverty and survival mode that she simply doesn’t have the mental capacity for anything else. When traumatized, our brains automatically retain less information than they ordinarily would and we see that with Katniss. Not for friends, or school, nor propagandized television lore. Notice how we get descriptions of most tributes before she remembers their names, if she ever does, while Haymitch actually remembers a lot of their names right off the bat. When you’re fighting for your life every day, it really doesn’t leave much energy for anything else. She’s used to saving all of her energy for providing for her family.

But Haymitch isn’t providing for his family. He has several friends, a healthy romantic relationship, and retains information about society because hes not neglected.

It’s just so interesting that Katniss is the luckier of the pair because in their childhood parallels, she drew the short stick compared to him. She’s only luckier cuz she had him.

SOMEONE WRITE THIS PLEASE I DONT HAVE THE TIME

Need a bkdk body swap fic but instead of doing freaky shit they have a competition on who can embarrass the other the most