Hades 2 underworld bosses: You have to fight Hecate, Scylla, Cerberus, and then Chronos. 4 bosses, just like Hades 1 :))
Hades 2 surface bosses: You have to kill a flesh eating cyclops proceed to the ocean where you have to kill either a pirate on heroin with a machine gun or the fucking hell octopus then while recovering from the low health you surely have after that fight we will throw you into an arena where a green haired lesbian calls you fucking stupid and explodes you with an even bigger machine gun than the michael phelps pirate you will then limp up mount olympus with 2 health and a legion of evil robots and monsters all attacking you at once then you will meet prometheus who has spent eons having his liver eaten by birds and no longer has any emotions nor fear. And also you will then fight satan’s favorite bull Lassy and then fight Satan himself who is the size of a fucking walmart superstore and has no health bar
contents. fluff. a little angsty if you squint. just pure skinship.
★ jiah’s notes. touch deprived toru . . sniffles.
to say that satoru isn’t on tenterhooks right now would be a lie.
a sugar-coated lie coated in a sweet, sweet ganache of what they called ‘delusion’— oh, as if that lil’ fucker already did not possess a diabolical sweet tooth.
(and he absolutely devours it every single time.)
“now what?” he murmurs. there’s a faint smile on his lips— just a little tilt to the side, careful, as if contemplating on what to make of the situation. it’s not forced, yet it’s there, a manifestation of his own instincts— an escape from reality, a path which led right towards that sweet little lie of his.
(a reality which wasn’t shielded by his infinity.)
“now what?” you repeat. an almost teasing undertone to your voice.
(you little brat, satoru thinks.)
“ah, ah, no playin’ sly, darling,” his eyebrow twitches, “you’re the one who asked me to deactivate my infinity.”
“perhaps so,” a small, amused huff escapes him when your hand sneakily drags itself across the leather of the couch between you two, almost tantalizing with the way it stopped just short of touching him.
(a hair’s breadth away.)
satoru swallows.
“uh huh,” azure eyes stare straight into yours, and if you look closely, there’s a hint of a foreign glint in them— a glint that’s perhaps a little darker.
(perhaps a little uncertain.)
“. . .”
“. . .”
a pause.
“d’you know why i made you turn your infinity off?”
satoru turns his head to look at you.
really look at you. the way the mocking grin on your face has somehow morphed itself into something much more softer. the way you gaze at him— eyes so full of longing that he might just throw up from the sheer amount of love you have for him. the way you’re just. . . there.
no, he doesn’t bother with his six eyes.
(he’s looking at you through his soul.)
satoru knows exactly why you asked him to turn his infinity off. yes, his mind tells him, but something gnawing at his heart won’t let him admit.
“no,” he breathes out.
(a pause, again.)
his hand shakes a little, so he scratches his head to hide it. but really, he knows you’ll know. you never have to try.
(you always know.
and he knows that.)
“. . . i want to touch you,” you whisper. “really touch you.”
(a pause, yet again.)
a soft breeze raps its knuckles at the frosty windows of your bedroom. with the way it constantly knocks at your abode, it’s a bit disappointed, perhaps, and a little lonely. you wonder what it wants.
some company, perhaps? but it knows it can’t have one forever. something so vagabond cannot afford such constant homes, right?
it stays for a while, then goes away— as if resigning itself to its fate of being untouched, simply because it was the wind.
(you don’t touch the wind. it touches you.)
“so touch me,” satoru breathes out, finally deciding to place his trembling hand back on the cold leather of the couch again. no boundaries.
(just you and him.)
and you do.
finally, finally giving up that miniscule space in between— your hand meets his own.
so warm against yours. they’re a little sweaty, you notice, but you don’t mind. you don’t mind the look of almost disbelieving awe in satoru’s eyes when he gazes at you, thinking you’re not looking. and you definitely don’t mind when he engulfs your hand in his, as if touching you for the first time in his entire life.
(but this isn’t him. it’s you who’s touching him.)
“your hands are cold,” he mutters, a small huff escaping him— you barely suppress a fond sigh when you see that he’s scratching his head.
(so much to hide the shakiness of his free hand.)
“c’mere,” you say, and oh the wind is knocked out of his lungs when you wrap your arms round him. his heart stutters, and he finds himself going tense for a split second— like a deer caught in headlights, a deer frantic for normalcy once again— the normalcy of his sweet little lie, his infinity.
(but then, he pauses. normalcy is home. and home—
is you.)
“. . . eager, aren’t cha,” strong, trembling hands touch your waist— hesitant, like he’s wondering whether this is right or wrong; but your touch isn’t worthy of such materialistic proclaims. your touch is just. . . home.
“shut up,” you laugh, and he breathes.
(satoru gojo has never breathed quite so freely.)
@stxrysnow on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works without my permission.
do y’all not just love traveling as a trans person and having to say/hear your deadname because it’s still your legal name and not to mention you’re traveling internationally and with how the united states is right now for trans people even if you haven’t had a legal name change you could still be in danger and that on top on regular anxiety and travel anxiety!
