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 satanâs favorite bull Lassy and then fight Satan himself who is the size of a fucking walmart superstore and has no health bar
to say that satoru isnât on tenterhooks right now would be a lie.
a sugar-coated lie coated in a sweet, sweet ganache of what they called âdelusionââ oh, as if that lilâ fucker already did not possess a diabolical sweet tooth.
(and he absolutely devours it every single time.)
ânow what?â he murmurs. thereâs a faint smile on his lipsâ just a little tilt to the side, careful, as if contemplating on what to make of the situation. itâs not forced, yet itâs there, a manifestation of his own instinctsâ an escape from reality, a path which led right towards that sweet little lie of his.
(a reality which wasnât shielded by his infinity.)
ânow what?â you repeat. an almost teasing undertone to your voice.
(you little brat, satoru thinks.)
âah, ah, no playinâ sly, darling,â his eyebrow twitches, âyouâre the one who asked me to deactivate my infinity.â
âperhaps so,â 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 hairâs breadth away.)
satoru swallows.
âuh huh,â azure eyes stare straight into yours, and if you look closely, thereâs a hint of a foreign glint in themâ a glint thatâs perhaps a little darker.
(perhaps a little uncertain.)
â. . .â
â. . .â
a pause.
âdâyou know why i made you turn your infinity off?â
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 himâ eyes so full of longing that he might just throw up from the sheer amount of love you have for him. the way youâre just. . . there.
no, he doesnât bother with his six eyes.
(heâs 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 wonât let him admit.
âno,â he breathes out.
(a pause, again.)
his hand shakes a little, so he scratches his head to hide it. but really, he knows youâll know. you never have to try.
(you always know.
and he knows that.)
â. . . i want to touch you,â you whisper. âreally touch you.â
(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, itâs a bit disappointed, perhaps, and a little lonely. you wonder what it wants.
some company, perhaps? but it knows it canât have one forever. something so vagabond cannot afford such constant homes, right?
it stays for a while, then goes awayâ as if resigning itself to its fate of being untouched, simply because it was the wind.
(you donât touch the wind. it touches you.)
âso touch me,â 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 betweenâ your hand meets his own.
so warm against yours. theyâre a little sweaty, you notice, but you donât mind. you donât mind the look of almost disbelieving awe in satoruâs eyes when he gazes at you, thinking youâre not looking. and you definitely donât mind when he engulfs your hand in his, as if touching you for the first time in his entire life.
(but this isnât him. itâs you whoâs touching him.)
âyour hands are cold,â he mutters, a small huff escaping himâ you barely suppress a fond sigh when you see that heâs scratching his head.
(so much to hide the shakiness of his free hand.)
âcâmere,â 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 secondâ like a deer caught in headlights, a deer frantic for normalcy once againâ the normalcy of his sweet little lie, his infinity.
(but then, he pauses. normalcy is home. and homeâ
is you.)
â. . . eager, arenât cha,â strong, trembling hands touch your waistâ hesitant, like heâs wondering whether this is right or wrong; but your touch isnât worthy of such materialistic proclaims. your touch is just. . . home.
âshut up,â 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 yâall not just love traveling as a trans person and having to say/hear your deadname because itâs still your legal name and not to mention youâre traveling internationally and with how the united states is right now for trans people even if you havenât had a legal name change you could still be in danger and that on top on regular anxiety and travel anxiety!