AUgust 2020: Angels & Demons
AUgust 2020: Angels & Demons
Challenge given by @augustwritingchallenge
Summary: Goro won’t ever get justice. Vengeance, though… Vengeance Goro could get.
“Don’t you want vengeance, Goro Akechi?” A hand shot out from the darkness. “I can offer you vengeance. All I ask is possession of your immortal soul.”
Pairing: N/A can be interpreted as ShuAke
Characters: Goro Akechi, Joker (Akira Kurusu/Ren Amamiya)
Word Count: 2305
CW: N/A
Notes: the tumblr version is unformatted. for that reason, i highly recommend you to read the ao3 version instead so yall get that sweet sweet tone difference.
i didnt include the “angel” part of the angels & demons but you know. potato potahto. also, big thanks to @yusuke-of-valla for giving me an AMAZING prompt. hope i did it justice
AO3 Link: HERE
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She was buried quietly, without fanfare and without mourners. Goro remembered staying at her grave hours after sunset, clutching the single flower he brought for her between his fingers so tightly it had crushed the leaves and petals and stem into a mangled mess.
The sky was a dark inky blot by the time a woman with tightly bunned hair and a blue and white striped uniform came for him and said that since his last living relative was six feet underground, Goro would be put into foster care. Dark clouds swirled over the horizon, flanking the boom of oncoming thunder. Goro wanted to tell her that he had a living relative still, a piece of trash masquerading as a man. Shido. Masayoshi Shido.
But who’d believe a dirty bastard child over the nation’s darling upstanding politician? The son of a whore with not a single yen to his name against a “respectable” and reliable Masayoshi fucking Shido. Even as a child, Goro understood that he won’t get his justice. This biased, pathetic excuse of a system won’t ever give him his justice. He followed that woman into an orphanage and let the years pass being shuffled from place to place. No roots. No friends. No bonds. Just a pebble thrown into sea, meant to be swallowed and spat back out again.
Goro won’t get justice. Justice for the years he suffered unwanted, unneeded, and unloved. He won’t get justice for his mother whose only mistake was being too kind and loving something that deserved no love at all. Justice for the society that looked at his face and deemed him unworthy to be saved and left him to drown.
Goro won’t ever get justice.
“But I can give you vengeance.”
Vengeance.
That word, over and over again in his dreams, a promise, a vow, an offer and an absolution. Goro didn’t know when it started, exactly. All he knew is that at some point in the blur of his adolescence, a voice started calling out to him in his dreams. Hands with black-painted nails, perfectly manicured, beckoning him into the depth of an endless void. Pointed horns and red eyes. A smile and the glint of shiny teeth. And in his mind, the voice would ring out, “Vengeance. Vengeance. Vengeance.”
Justice is for children. Wide-eyed children with petty idealism and a gross misunderstanding of how the world works, of how cruel the world is, of how unwanted and unneeded and un-special they were. Vengeance, though… Vengeance for his mother’s life ruined by the selfish ego of one man undeserving of every breath he deigned to steal, his cruelty, his blatant disregard for the one thing that Goro had in this sham of a life. Vengeance for Goro. Vengeance to quell the pit of hatred and despair and the thrashing of wild listlessness and chaos.
Vengeance, Goro could get.
“Don’t you want Vengeance, Goro Akechi?” asked the voice in his dreams. “Son of a whore and a bastard child. You are playing an unjust game in a world that will never deliver justice.” A hand shot out from the darkness. Pale skin. Dark nails. And past that, further in, gleaming eyes. Blood red. Inhuman. “I can offer you vengeance. I can offer you Masayoshi Shido’s head on a pike, his legacy tarnished, the vision of Japan he was willing to burn the world down for handed to you on a silver platter.”
And in his dreams, Goro always refused. Denied and rejected and lashed out with violent words and the hurl of his fists that only ever seemed to pass through smoke. Even in his dreams, he was taunted. Taunted with something he can never truly have.
That time though, that night, on the eighth anniversary of the day of his mother’s death, on the day Goro stood alone over her grave crushing a delicate flower in his murderous, loveless hands, the creature lurking in Goro’s head won.
In that dream, Goro had reached out back into the darkness, hands shaking as he hesitated mere inches from the flawless hand beckoning him into a mad abyss. “And you’d want something in return, I presume?”
There was almost a chuckle in response to that. “But of course,” said the creature. Horns flashed for a brief moment, sharp and black and angled forward. Flames seemed to lick up the creature’s smile. “All I ask is possession of your immortal soul, Goro Akechi. Give that to me upon your death, and you will have all that you want and more.”
A soul. A soul to finally see Shido fall. To see his pathetic excuse for a father finally get his just desserts. A soul to get the justice -the vengeance- for his mother, for himself. Goro leaned forward, let his bony half-starved hand grasp the one shrouded in darkness, and spoke:
“You have yourself a deal.”
Because really. His soul was dirty, broken, and worth less than the mud on his shirt.
If that’s what he had to give, then he’d give it. Gladly. A hundred, a thousand, a million times over.
The figure in the darkness of his dreams grasped his hand, grasped it tightly, too tightly, until it began to hurt but Goro held on. Then the hand shaked his, slowly, deliberately, and a burning searing pain followed. Not in Goro’s hand but further in, his chest, his head, his heart. His soul. It burned and burned and burned a searing pain, like something was peeling his skin away bit by agonising bit. Still Goro held on.
“Stubborn,” chuckled the voice in Goro’s dream. The hand receded, the pain faded, until all that Goro was left with was darkness and the piercing red eyes. “We will get along well, Goro Akechi.”
The eyes vanished and left behind an echo.
“You may call me Joker.”
Goro woke up.
He was not a child, not a teenager fraught with dreams of deals and vengeance and darkness. He was Goro Akechi, a respected detective fresh out of the academy, praise and accolades and connections to his name. Loved by the common folk for his humble beginnings, an orphan who had to work and bleed and sweat to claw his way into the upper echelons of society, a beacon of hope that maybe they too can make their way up the ladder. Loved by the elite for his charm and wit and charisma, his flawless manners, his cadence, his posture, his mask. One of his masks.
It took years. Years longer than what Goro would have wanted, years longer than what Goro could have been patient with, but at last, he could begin the endeavor that kept him going through years. Bring down Shido. More than a quick death. More than humiliation. More than anything Goro himself could have thought of.
The thing that Masayoshi Shido valued most. Himself. His reputation. His power. His legacy. His control. Brick by fucking brick, Goro would tear it all down. Watch the ruins burn in ashes. Have Shido’s name cursed for years, for generations, for future historians to come. Have the entirety of this nation sneer at the mere mention of his name.
All it took was a soul.
The best damn thing Goro’s soul could ever be worth, honestly.
“I can do many things, Goro, but even I can’t delay a dedicated media crew,” came a voice in his head. Familiar, after years of hearing it. Joker stood at the doorway, insouciant, relaxed, leaning against the frame of Goro’s bedroom door with that irritating nigh-permanent smirk on his face.
He looked human now, which was probably the most unsettling thing about him. No horns. No face wreathed in fire. No clawed hands, no tail, no wings. Joker’s red eyes were a very human black, framed with glasses that made him look innocent and harmless when he was anything but. “Out of bed Goro.” Really, the only thing that belied Joker’s true nature was his smile. The glint of canines just a bit too sharp to be human, visible for only a breath before vanishing once again into this perfect veneer. A mask. “The new Detective Prince can’t be late for his own interview, Goro. Out of bed.”
The pillows were soft, the mattress inviting, the window positioned just so to let the right amount of sunlight in. Ultimately simple, so that when reporters and paparazzi invaded what little semblance of privacy he had left, all they’d see was a humble man living a humble life. The image Goro wanted to cultivate, that Joker advised him to cultivate. The perfect mask.
With a heavy sigh, Goro dragged himself back to the realm of the conscious with a false smile, practised so often it reached his eyes, crinkled them at the edges and lit them up how a real smile would. It was terrifying how he didn’t even have to think about it, how it was as easy as breathing. “My interview isn’t until after noon.” Goro can’t quite remember the last time he smiled genuinely. It was terrifying that Goro didn’t care. And though sleep clung to him still, Goro sat straight-backed, knees slung over his bed and crossed at the ankle. An image. A mask.
Joker gave him a smile. Well, it wasn’t entirely a smile. There was joy in it, sure, and more than a little excitement, but Goro had never quite seen another human being give that look. One of hedonistic greed not for power or wealth but for thrill, chasing something that can’t be caught and loving every second anyway. A dangerous thing, an incorporeal thing, an emotion or an experience or just the mere imaginings of something too alien for Goro to grasp.
“It isn’t. But wouldn’t you want to witness the death of the IT President that eats from Shido’s hand like a loyal dog?”
But then again, Joker wasn’t human.
For all Goro knew, this look was how creatures like Joker smiled. If they could even smile. If Goro could even smile. His camera-ready expression slipped into something other at the news. Lips stretched wide, teeth bared. It might have been a smile. It might have been him imitating the expression Joker’s face. It might have been simply Goro, delighted to know that the crumbling of Shido’s empire had already begun. Sadistic and feral and removed.
“I thought you said that Shido shouldn’t die,” said Goro conversationally, in the same tone one might discuss the weather. Despite how still and steady his voice was, he could not hide the excited tremor that ran through his body, the thrill of seeing his dream finally begin to take root and bloom into an ugly thorny rose.
If Joker noticed, he did not say. “True. I said Shido shouldn’t die. But I said nothing of the men working under him.” Goro was on his feet. Wordlessly, Joker handed him a simple summer outfit, a coat, his gloves. “The ultimate suffering for Shido is a life without power, without influence. A long life of being less than nothing. His subordinates though?”
“Weapons,” said Goro as he dressed himself. To be used against Shido. To have their lives be the sword and the bullets and the gun. To have their deaths be a wound.
For a split second, Goro could have sworn that flames erupted in Joker’s eyes. But when he blinked, it was gone, and Joker was laughing.“Right you are, Goro. They’re casualties in the war. Trash. Tools that have outlived their usefulness.” Joker led Goro out the bedroom, into the hall. Handed him a cup of coffee and a sandwich. “A threat to Shido perhaps?” Joker paused his stride just long enough to look into Goro’s eyes. “Maybe our IT President found something about Shido that he shouldn’t have.” They did not stop in the dining room for Goro’s breakfast.
“Did he?”
“Does it matter?” Joker asked.
“It doesn’t.”
Joker chuckled. The hallway light flickered with each breath and the shadows curled at his ankle. “We’ll create a story, Goro. The president dies from some… unseen force and you’re simply the good samaritan who wanted to help. You’ll get closer to the public, you get an in with Shido, and you get to watch the fall from inside the ivory tower.”
Goro took a sip of his coffee. Roasted to perfection. “And you will get my soul.”
They passed by the floor mirror in the living room. Joker’s reflection was not that of a man with fluffy black hair and a dark button-up. It was shadow and flame and a creature with horns and black-clawed hands. “And I will get your soul. But only after you watch Shido get dragged through something worse than hell. Such is the terms of our deal.”
All for the price of Goro’s soul.
“Well,” Goro smiled, sharp and fake and utterly convincing, “I suppose I’ll take my morning walk. I have an interview coming up, after all. I should clear my head.”
Joker laughed. Deep, hungry, triumphant. He vanished into black smoke and receded into the dark corners of the house just as Goro opened the door. He wasn’t gone though, not really. There was a fire in Goro’s chest, painful and freeing and damning all at once. A brand of malediction and a stain on the soul he already sold.
And when Goro saw a brown-haired man in nice clothes with a laptop bag slung over his shoulder suddenly collapse in the middle of the street, grasping his throat for invisible hands that slowly strangled life out, he heard Joker’s voice in his head again. Loud, clear, and malicious.
Vengeance.
Vengeance.
Vengeance.
Goro dropped his coffee and his breakfast and rushed forward, putting on a mask that fit far too well on his face. “Are you alright sir!?”
Vengeance.
More Posts from Yumizurueleonora and Others
Having a bad day so time to write some very very sad fanfiction and project my feelings onto fictional characters!~
Whumptober Day 29: Alt. Prompt Body Swap
A/n: Everyone say thank you to @yumizurueleonora for reminding me I wrote this because otherwise I was just gonna skip this day.
Perception
Dru watches the guards bring in the new prisoner, the self-proclaimed Wootox The Destroyer. The others steer clear of the fresh meat and Dru walks over to him.
“Hello,” Dru says, flashing a smile. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Dru Harrington. As the others have hopefully informed you, I’m the guy who can get you whatever you need.”
“I don't need anything from you,” Wootox says.
Dru laughs. “Oh funny guy, why are you trying to speak Terran.”
“You can understand me?”
“I’m Tangarian,” Dru says and Wootox looks confused. “We have similar vocal chord structures?”
“Of course. Well, whatever, leave me alone.”
Dru narrows his eyes. “One thing first, I need to know if you did anything to the Blue Ranger.”
“What if I killed him?”
“Well it'd be on your rap sheet,” Dru says, “but for your sake it’s better if you didn’t hurt him.”
“Why do you care, you shot him.”
“Well you know he was the only guy willing to do it in a broom closet five minutes before an exam so I probably owe him for that.”
The very human startled reaction doesn’t look quite right on Wootox’s body.
“Hello, Sky.” Dru says. “Thank you for confirming Wootox’s ability to switch bodies for me.”
“I’m happy to help,” Sky says, “now leave me alone.”
“And how could I abandon my Angel when he needs my help.”
“I’m not your Angel, and I don’t need your help.”
“Really? You’re planning on escaping prison and getting back to Earth on your own? When you’re a wanted criminal who’s already escaped once?”
Sky glares at him.
“Do you think they’ve noticed you’re acting off yet? Or has Wootox already gotten rid of anyone who might get suspicious. Bridge can find him out easily if he gets a whiff of something wrong, and he’s your roommate. Or maybe he's just taken whatever SPD tech he can get his hands on, run off, and sold it to the highest bidder, and now your friends are facing upgraded Krybots and criminals who know their every weakness. Or–”
“Enough,” Sky growls. “Why do you want to help me? I thought you didn’t need me.”
Dru leans back and smiles. “Maybe there is some goodness left in my heart. Maybe I’m just enjoying the irony of this whole situation.”
“So you’re helping me for a laugh?”
“I’m helping you because if anyone’s going to have you weak and screaming on your knees, metaphorically or otherwise, it’s going to be me, Angel, and it’s no fun if you’re already at my mercy.”
Sky turns away.
“Tick tock, Sky. Every second you waste is another second Wootox can use your body to hurt your precious SPD.
“Fine.” Sky says. “What’s your plan?”
“It’ll take me time to come up with something.”
“I know you Dru, you had a plan the second you figured out it was me.”
“Always so needy,”
“You’re the one who said I don’t have time to waste.”
“Alright, but just because it's you,” Dru says. “I do have a plan, but I won’t tell you what it is.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re just going to have to trust me.”
Sky is clearly mulling it over, looking for something to argue against, but they already both know the plan is sound.
“How soon can you get it done?” Sky asks.
“Oh, I'm a pretty busy guy, running an information network from inside prison, you’ll have to convince me to move it up on priority list.”
“What now, Dru.”
“Let me remind you how to have fun, Angel.” Dru takes Sky by the arm and leads him to a closet, then presses up against him.
“I don’t know how to use this body like that.”
“We figured it out once, we can do it again.” Dru shifts to his Tangarian form. “You have no idea how much I've thought of getting to do this with you like this.”
“Let’s just get this over with.”
“You can try and have a little fun,” Dru says. “I’m going to make this pleasurable for you too.” He gives Sky a shock Sky shudders. “See? I remember the kind of things you liked. Different body doesn’t mean a thing.”
Sky moans a little, and Dru gets to work.
~
The chemicals released by Wootox’s body after sex are even stronger than the ones humans have, so Sky’s practically a giggling useless puddle once they’re done.
It's easy enough to get the guards to turn the other way as Dru takes “Wootox” back into his cell and says they’ll be sharing for a bit, so now all Dru has to do is send a message.
“Hello, Jack,” he says into the recording. “Thank you so much for sending Sky over here to visit me. I’m having so much fun with him, I can only assume you did this on purpose, right? Surely you’ve noticed Wootox in Sky’s body before this. I mean Bridge is psychic, so you must have known and decided to do me a favor. Thank you so much, I really owe you one.”
There, that should get those idiots to actually check and come rushing over to get Sky back in his body. He sent it along a secure SPD channel, so they’ll notice soon enough.
As much as Dru would love more time with Sky, he’s not stupid enough to rock the boat on a whim. If he’s whisking Sky off to the furthest corner of the galaxy so that stupid blue boy will stop sticking around in his mind, he’s going to take longer than a day to plan it.
So he’ll just have to settle with leaving Sky a reminder of how good they can be together, and mocking the other rangers for being such idiots. If it puts a seed of doubt in his mind about whether he belongs at SPD, then so be it.
Although… maybe there’s one more thing he can do to rub salt in the wound.
~
“This is all my fault,” Syd groans. “If I hadn’t hit him so hard–”
“Someone sneaking into our room deserves an iron fist to the face,” Z says, “it’s not your fault Sky – or Sky’s body? – was so exhausted it kept him out for three days.”
“But it was still weird! We should have checked if something was wrong there!”
“One weird thing isn’t enough to assume someone’s been body snatched,” Bridge says. “And my powers don’t work if I don’t know to check… maybe I should learn to read minds or something.”
“You can work on that after we get our Sky back,” Jack says, gripping the shuttle controls a little too tightly.
That fucking message from Dru. Self righteous prick. If he’s done anything to Sky, Jack will beat him up himself.
It’s clear he wants something, and Jack's a little worried he already for it from Sky.
They arrive at the prison and haul Wootox-in-Sky’s body to the meeting room, where Sky-in-Wootox’s body is waiting, alongside Dru.
“What are you doing here?” Jack asks.
“I want to make sure you don’t mess this up,” Dru says.
“Bridge?” Jack says and Bridge scans Sky-in-Wootox’s body.
“Yep. That’s Sky!” Bridge says.
They shove Wootox-in-Sky’s body towards Sky-in-Wootox’s body and hold him still while Sky-in-Wootox’s body touch their foreheads together.
There’s energy and a bright light, but suddenly Sky stumbles back and he’s stopped glaring.
Jack ungags him. “Sky? That you?”
“Yeah,” Sky says. “I’m me, and why does my head hurt?”
“Sky!” Syd hugs him. “I’m so sorry I knocked you out!”
“Hm?”
“That creep snuck into my room and was watching me and I was holding an hair iron and when I tried to push him away I launched him across the room with an iron fist.”
“Wootox has been passed out in your body for three days,” Z says.
“Oh! So he didn’t do anything!” Sky says. “I was worried he’d hurt you guys.”
“No, as it turns out your body was just exhausted already,” Bridge says, “so when Syd hit him he just slept it off.”
“Still burning that midnight oil?” Dru asks and they’re suddenly all reminded he’s here. “Sky, do you really need me to help you get to sleep.”
“We’ll finish this conversation later,” Jack says, “let’s go.”
“What no thank you for fixing your catastrophic mistake before something serious happened?”
“Thank you,” Jack grits out.
“I want one more thing.”
“If it’s a lighter sentence, you’re lowering your chances.”
“I want it from Sky.”
“No.”
“And if I say that I strapped a bomb to Wootox and will blow us all up if I don’t?”
“You care too much about money for that,” Jack says. “You’re a guy who knows when to cut his losses and run.”
“Oh, that your professional analysis,” Dru says, pulling out what looks like a detonator. “Willing to stake your life on it?”
Before Jack can say anything, Sky rushes forward, pulls Dru close and kisses him for far too long.
Even without his translator, Jack’s pretty sure he understands what Wootox is saying.
They finally separate, and Sky has the detonator in his hands.
“This is a pen.”
“Did it’s job,” Dru says. “I hope we can catch up again soon, Sky.”
He knocks on the door, and guards arrive to take him and Wootox away.
Sky coughs and straightens up. “Ok, well we’ll have to go check in with Commander Cruger so–”
“Are you ok?” Jack asks. “Dru didn’t do anything to you?”
“No, it's fine,” Sky says.
“Are you–”
“It's fine,” Sky says, “I don’t want to talk about it, let’s just get back.”
Sky leaves first and the others follow out, and Jack can’t get that damn look of Dru’s out of his mind.
Like he’s telling Jack he’s got something Jack can never have.
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Spotify writing prompt: how about song 73?
73. Transition 4 (35:MM A Musical Exhibition
And if a world lies beyond/Does something try to respond?/Is film an unearthly bond?
Futaba pulls away from Ren and the others, eyes trained on the white hat across the room. Normally something like this, an afterparty for the film festival filled with strangers, would terrify her, but in this case, it’s almost like something is pulling her to the girl in the white hat.
Hikari Honda.
Futaba had never met her, never heard of her until they’d randomly decided to go to this showcase. But watching her film, “New Cinema Labyrinth,” and then seeing her come on stage something in Futaba got excited.
And not in the way that Hikari’s cute. Like, obviously she’s cute but that’s not the feeling in Futaba’s gut. Hikari felt familiar, and Futaba’s gonna get to the bottom of that feeling.
“Hey!” Futaba says, reaching out to grab Hikari’s arm. Hikari stops and turns to Futaba in shock, and Futaba’s throat clams up. Gah, running up to a random stranger like that, she’s acting like Inari. “H-hi! I’m Sutaba Fakura,” Futaba stammers. “I-I mean, Futaba Sakura! I uh- really liked your movie!”
“Oh! Thank you,” Hikari says. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”
“I don’t think so! I’m not really a huge movie buff, but my friends wanted to come.”
“Oh.” Hikari frowns. “I could’ve sworn I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
“Me too!” Futaba says. Suddenly, someone bumps into her and Futaba yelps.
“Um, would you like to go somewhere more private?” Hikari asks. “I’m not really great with crowds.”
“Me neither,” Futaba says. “Um, why don’t we go over back where my friends were? We sorta staked out a secluded corner by the refreshments table.”
“I’d like that,” Hikari says. She offers her hand out to Futaba. “Would you lead the way?”
Futaba grabs Hikari’s hand effortlessly. “I’d love to.”
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Caligula Effect (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: The Caligula Effect Male Protagonist & The Caligula Effect Female Protagonist, The Caligula Effect Protagonist & The Go-Home Club Characters: The Caligula Effect Protagonist, Shikishima Ritsu, Kashiwaba Kotono, Satake Shogo, Hibiki Kensuke (Kagi-P), Shinohara Mifue, Kagura Suzuna, Tomoe Kotaro, Minezawa Izuru, Biwasaka Eiji, Amamoto Ayana, The Caligula Effect Female Protagonist, The Caligula Effect Male Protagonist, Morita Naruko Additional Tags: Eiji Biwasaka gets bullied, because I said so, Apologies do happen but they are not meant, Also Male Protag is the older sibling because FeMC didn’t come out till overdose so Summary:
Aria cooks a hot pot, Eiji gets bullied by Mizuki and most of the younger members of the club, and Ritsu and the other adults are tired. That’s it, that’s the whole fic.
bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements
is it too late for me to rewrite the destiel confession superhell scene with klapollo for clout
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She/Her! Icon by @teapopp! Ravenoftheskyes’s fanfic sideblog! My Ao3 is @ravenoftheskyes! Asks are open for anything fic related whatsoever!
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