#mahito catching those hands lol

[murderofravens]

is this an okay time to say i want yuji to manhandle me

[inkedinfusions]

𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 | geto suguru chapter 5

⊱𖤓⊰ | In which you, a thief, meet the lost prince of the kingdom.

── ★ ˙ ̟ . ⚜️ .ᐟ.ᐟ masterlist

⊰–prev

𝟎𝟓 | 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐞

chapter word count: 3.3k

content warnings: normal warnings for the tangled movie lol

a/n: And with that, ladies and gentleman, we are done! I had a looot of fun writing this—literally speedran it from last last tuesday to sunday. Is it noticeable? Idc I had fun lmao. Should I write an epilogue following Tangled: Ever After? Let me know :)

Thanks for reading!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐒 you come to your senses to a darkened sky that is devoid of lanterns. The creak of wood tells you you are standing on a boat, but the slit of your half opened eyes tells you it's not the same one you were with Suguru in. 

“Suguru…?” you ask, dazed and confused. Why were you standing up? Why were you bound to the helm? And—wait, was that the circlet in your hands?

You don’t even have time to question where the Curses went, because your body lurches forward when the boat finds its way to the port again. In the corner, Koryu stands, with something akin to worry in his face. 

“What—Hey!” you exclaim when guards begin to climb on the boat, their metal armor clanking with every step they take. “Wait, wait—”

Shit. Was Suguru okay? Had the Curses gotten to him? You call out his name but receive no answer as the guards haul you off, escorting you to the holding cells. You are thrown into a simple one, still clad with the smell of humidity, the cot nothing more than a slab of wood. 

You stand still in the middle of it when the guards leave, their keys jangling as they go further and further away, taking your freedom with them. Wordlessly, you plop down on the cot, bringing your knees to your chest, not even bothering to take off your boots. 

The iron-barred window begins to light up the room when the sun peaks its form from over the horizon, bathing the cell with its beams. But where yesterday’s sun shone, today’s falls short, failing to bring warmth to your callused hands. 

The metal handcuffs are cold on your wrists, the chain between them dangling as you are escorted from your cell to the hallway, one guard on each arm, and you walk amongst other fools who also managed to get caught. 

It is amongst those fools that you catch sight of Jogo and Mahito, both slumped in their own cell. You want to gloat at the fact that Suguru got away from them, maybe even scored a concussion or two with his saucepan. But the fury you didn’t have time to feel when they confronted you comes rushing in all at once, fueling your outburst. 

You shove the guard on your left, effectively knocking him to the bars on his side, and you head butt the other one, walking away with only sharp, momentary pain. You jump over your cuffs and use your hands to pull Jogo against the iron that divides you both, sneering in his face. 

“How did you know?” you ask, your voice nearly a shout. “Tell me now unless you want your skull caved in, asshole!”

Jogo looks at you with his wide eye, and you’re suddenly glad Satoru left the other one for you to rip out. You yank him again until he answers with a shaky voice. 

“It was the old lady,” he answers quickly. You repeat his answer under your breath, when another set of guards take you away, forcibly ripping you from Jogo.  

“Hey—Wait!” you yell amidst the commotion. “You don’t understand—I have to help him—!”

The guards push you down, subduing you with their numbers as you follow the captain to the end of the hallway. You yank against them, desperate to break free, turning Jogos answer again and again in your mind. Old lady? Could it be Suguru’s mother they were talking about? You did say she was a nut job, but you didn’t think a mother would send ruffians after her own son. 

One guard pushes your head down, the other twists your body so it is more difficult for you to walk, let alone run away. You dart your eyes around for anything that could help you escape, when a peculiar object catches your eye. There, in the indent of the wall, sits a small, ceramic unicorn.

The door you are being led to slams shut, leaving you and the guards confused. All the others follow, prompting the captain to knock on the door wildly, ordering whoever was behind it to open it up, still puzzled. You less so, when your suspicions are confirmed when the wood over the window of the door rolls open to reveal the little drunk guy that guards the door to The Snuggly Duckling. 

“Password?” the old guy asks. 

“What?” the captain says, bewildered. 

“Nuh uh,” the guy answers, closing the shutter again. 

“Open this door!” he commands. 

The guy has narrowed his eyes when the shutter rolls open again, once again denying entry. “Not even close,” he says. 

“You have three seconds!” the captain yells it rolls close again. “One!”

One guard is snatched away by a hook that lifts him up into the air, freeing your left arm. 

“Two!”

The other is taken away by a hand that comes out of a closed door, leaving only his helmet behind as evidence he ever existed. 

“Three…!” the guard trails off, turning to face you, now devoid of an escort. A masked thug comes out of the door that now stands at his backside, knocking him out cold with a saucepan. 

“The frying pan!” you exclaim with a smile. “Best weapon ever, in my humble opinion.”

The door at the other end cracks and is reduced to splinters by the horde of guards that start to chase you. The thug with the pan shatters your binds and grabs you by the arm to lead you through the maze that is the prison. You pass by a ruffian dressed like a mime and continue running until you reach the central courtyard, as doors burst open, revealing more guards. 

Hoof-ruffian—man, you really should learn these guys’ names—put you in a specific spot on the ground. “Head down,” he says, gesturing for you to copy his posture. 

“Head down,” you repeat. 

“Arms in.”

You bring your arms up and close to your torso, forming fists with your hands. “Arms in.”

“Knees apart.”

“Knees apart—knees apart? Why would I—?”

You are launched into the air before you can finish your question, the makeshift catapult propelling you up and over the walls of the square. You scream as you shut your eyes, still dutifully maintaining the position you had been told to hold. 

You crack open one eye the moment you land on something—Koryu.

“Koryu?” you ask. “Did you… bring them here?”

Koryu neighs, affirming your question. 

“Wow buddy, you… thank you,” you say, touched. Koryu, on his part, simply stares at you with unblinking golden eyes, his face softer than you had ever seen him. 

“No, really,” you continue, “thank you. I think we’ve just been misunderstanding one another and—” The look in his face cuts you off, and you realize what this had all been for. “Yeah, you're right, we should go.”

Koryu starts galloping towards the edge of the walls, not stopping even when stray guards stand in your path. 

“Hey—hey! Koryu!” you yell as he jumps off the ledge, sliding off a roof and landing straight into the town, galloping away. The wind blows through your hair as you cross the bridge, stone paths giving way to those made of dirt. 

You don't have to lead Koryu to Suguru’s tower, the horse remembering the location from the day he was supposed to capture you. Before you know it, you run right past the entrance hidden by the vines, and you jump off Koryu at the base of the tower. There is none of the wonder you had experienced when you first discovered it, the place was bleak, overcast clouds sucking out the sun’s light.

“Suguru?” you shout, cupping your canes around your mouth. “Hey—hey! Let down your hair!” you exclaim, remembering the way he got off the tower in the first place. 

You start to climb the tower with nothing but your hands when there is no answer, whe, like the cry of an angel, ebony dark locks spring out of the window. You quickly grab it, using it as a way to halt yourself up and over the ledge of the window, coming face to face with a horrifying sight. 

“Suguru?” you say just as you’re climbing in. “I thought I'd never see you again—”

Suguru sits chained to the wall in front of you, illuminated only by the light that shines through the ledge that bounces off the mirror shards that tiller the floor. His hands are bound on his back, and a piece of cloth around the lower half of his face keeps him from speaking. 

That doesn’t stop him from trying to warn you about the presence behind you, with you only noticing it when a dagger finds itself lodged in between your ribs. You grunt in pain, falling to the shard covered tiles and clutching your rapidly throbbing abdomen. 

“Look what you’ve done,” says your assailant, who steps over you. “Oh, don’t you worry Suguru,” she says, turning to look at you, “our secret will die with her.”

Suguru’s mother stands before you, tall and menacing. Her hair is cut short before it reaches her shoulder, and a line of healed stitches runs all along her forehead. She is uncanny, too young to be his mother, with eyes too old for her wrinkle free face. 

You can do nothing but writhe in pain and hear as Suguru’s mother pulls him away, the sound of chains rattling and her berating filling up the room. “Enough already!” she says firmly. “Stop—fighting me!”

“No!” you hear Suguru yell, the fabric slipping down to his neck. “I will never stop fighting, stop running away from you. There won’t be a moment where I wont try to get away, not unless you let me heal her.”

You groan from where you are curled up on the floor, not lucid enough to say anything, but still awake to know that that is a bad idea. Suguru was full of light; you were just a thief the world wouldn’t miss. He could not sacrifice his freedom for you.

You are helpless as his mother binds one of your wrists to the wall, the chain long enough mobility is not an issue. Or it wouldn’t be, if you weren't leaking blood from your abdomen. 

“So you don’t get any ideas about following us,” you hear his mother mutter as she steps away. 

Suguru scrambles to get to you, holding you in his arms. He caresses your face as you squirm on the floor, his nervous eyes darting from you to the injury to you again. “Don’t worry,” he says, paying no attention to your complaints, “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

“You can’t do this,” you manage to get out. “I can’t—I can't let you do this.”

“Just trust me, alright?” he mumbles soothingly, trying his best to get his hair onto your stomach when you keep pushing it away. “You can’t die on me.”

“No—no, no,” you stutter. “If you do this… if you do this you will die.”

“It’ll be alright,” he repeats, not noticing how your hand snakes out to grab a large shard of mirror. It's either die here or be hanged by the guards, you realize. 

“Wait,” you mumble, reaching out to his face before he begins with his song. Your hand ghosts his cheek, going all the way to gently grab the hair that sits at his mid-back. With your last ounce of strength, you drive the shard through it, instantly rendering the golden treaded ebony hair as dark as pure ink. 

Your hand falls to the floor as your vision begins to turn black, and you only manage to hear his mother shout before you begin to feel floaty. “You—” you hear Suguru say, taking you into his arms once again. “What did you do?” 

“Y/n?” he repeats, voice filled with desperation. “No, no no—you idiot.”

“Told you I’d lose brain cells if you kept striking me with your pan,” you mumble back with effort. 

He doesn’t answer you in favor of rapidly chanting his song, more and more frantic when it doesn’t work and your injury still bleeds. Not even when he presses your hand against his hair does it light up like you had seen before.

“Hey, Suguru?” you mumble, opening your eyes with effort. When had they slipped shut? “You were… my new dream,” you confess. 

“And you were mine too,” he says, tears gathering in his eyes. “You were… Starlight? Hey—Y/n!”

His voice filters out as you lose consciousness, no longer tethered to your body the way a normal soul is. You shouldn’t feel cold—you shouldn’t feel anything, and yet the warmth that erupts and washes over you feels like a sunlight bath. 

You can feel your body again, but no longer does the hole in your abdomen bother you. In fact, you notice when you gently touch the area, it's not there at all. You open your eyes just a sliver, enough to see Suguru looking at you with anticipation. 

“Hey,” you start, feeling vital force flow in you again, “I’m so glad your hair is still long.”

“Y/n!” Suguru chuckles in between tears, and you reach a hand out to wipe them away, not liking being the reason behind them. Your hand only reaches air when he lurches forward, engulfing you in his arms, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. You follow suit, finding a home in the way his warmth seeps into you, in the way his mid-back length hair sways when he pulls you close.

You pull away first, smiling at the way his eyebrow knit in confusion, smoothing out when you grab the lapels of his vest and pull him in. Your lips meet his in a sweet, desperate kiss, and he might not have any more powers in him, but you swear the space burns golden when he pulls you closer. 

You break the kiss with a laugh, leaning back and covering your mouth when you begin to chuckle. 

“What?” Suguru asks with a smile. 

“Just,” you say in between, “I never thought I’d save a princess from a tower. Does that make me a knight?”

“What?” you ask when he falls silent, fidgeting with a strand of his hair. 

“You have to promise not to laugh,” he says, fueling your curiosity. When you nod, he continues. “Apparently, I’m the lost prince of the kingdom.”

“...Like, the one he circlet is for? The one who has been missing for the better part of two decades?”

“That one,” Suguru confirms, his face contorting in mock offense when your shoulders begin to shake. “Hey! You promised you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I’m sorry!” you say smiling. “But I’m telling you I told you so. Who clocked it when we first met?”

“A princess is not a prince,” he grumbles, a small smile betraying his lack of offense. 

“Still! Oh, I’m never letting this go. Hey, princess, do you think—?”

You are cut off by another kiss, one you reciprocate gladly after a moment. And so you stay there, in the midst of a ruined tower, without a care in the world. 

You use the passage his mother—his captor—had uncovered, finding Rokyu at the base, sniffing at the old woman’s cape. Ash litters the grass around it and you feel Suguru’s hand tense under yours. 

“Come on,” you mumble, pulling him towards Rokyu. 

The pace back to the kingdom is tranquil, filled with comfortable silence and fleeting glances. The guards at the bridge are dumbfounded when you gallop past them like it's just another day, when the captain himself stands in your path. 

He glances at you, then at Suguru, then at his horse. Rokyu faces him too, and something goes on between him and the captain, because he just sights after a moment and escorts you to the palace. 

Suguru tries to engage him in casual conversation, but falters when the captain doesn’t respond in turn. Still, you have to give it to the man. You had been twice the victim of a frying pan based assault, so you could sympathize with the fogginess that is currently governing his brain. 

He only seems to awaken when Suguru tells him the reason for your visit to the castle. His jaw drops, hurriedly ordering one of the others to go get the king and queen. He looks at Suguru again, and this time there is recognition in his eyes. He leaves you alone on the balcony, with the promise that his parents are on their way. 

“Do you think they’ll like me?” Suguru asks after a beat, fidgeting with his hair. 

“They’ll love you,” you assure him. How could they not?

“But do you think—”

“Hey,” you say, grabbing his chin to make him look at you. “It’ll be fine. You got this.”

He smiles and places a soft kiss on your palm, and you bring it down just as the doors crack open. Two people, the king and queen, stop dead on their tracks, reuniting with the son they thought to be lost for years on end. 

You note that Suguru looks just like his mom, getting his colors mainly from his dad. The queen steps hesitantly down the stars just as Suguru moves towards her with a similar cadence. They are all skittish, like one wrong move could send the other away, crumbling to dust, nothing but a mirage. 

You stand at the edge of the balcony while Suguru’s mom—his real one—pulls him into a bone crushing hug, him being so much taller than her but reduced to putty once her arms snake around him. His father follows, embracing both of them into a hug. 

They fall to the floor on their knees, with the delicateness that is only ever present in fairy tales. You smile as they do, when the queen offers you her hand. Thinking she is going in for a handshake, you accept it, only achieving getting pulled into the family hug. It's not awkward like you thought it would be, so you close your eyes and enjoy the moment, a breather from the crazy days in the past. 

Later, when you are both free from the hug, you (and the other ruffians) are granted a royal pardon and preparations begin for festivities, celebrating the return of the prince. Still, you can't feel but feel as though you are missing something while walking with Suguru, already in his new princely garments. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks you when you take a break from dancing in the square. 

“I don't know,” you say, accepting the cookie he offers you. “I just feel like there’s an itch—Oh my god, Satoru!”

You snap your fingers when his mop of white hair glints in the crowd, rapidly approaching. “Sarlight!” he greets, swiping your cookie away for himself. “Starlight’s princess,” he addresses Suguru. “Didn’t think I’d see you here!”

“Did you really? And why do you still have those glasses?”

“They’re cool! Ya like them?” 

“No,” you deadpan. 

“That’s what I thought,” Satoru says, before turning to Suguru. “You’ve got your hands full man. I wish you the best.”

“You are so annoying,” you say, shoveling him into the dancing crowd, laughing at the way his face contorts when he searches for something in his pocket but doesn’t find it. 

“Looking for this?” you ask at his retreating figure, balancing Suguru’s circlet on your index finger. Satoru flips you off before getting swept away into the dance, while Suguru double checks the top of his head. 

“When did he—?” he starts. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you say, placing it atop his black locks. He had taken half of it up into a bun, letting the rest drip down his back like rivers of ink. You make sure it's not crooked, taking half a step away to check, when his hands find your forearms and you’re pulled into him again. You laugh before meeting him halfway, the music swelling just as your lips touch. 

Maybe you hadn’t been successful with the circlet, but now you had stolen something much more precious. His heart. 

[undermine-the-instinct]

Stop looking at me with those eyes!! JJK Pt l | Pt ll | Pt lll

Characters: Sukuna, Mahito, Kenjaku, Choso.

Warnings: YANDERE. Minors DNI. Due to the nature of said characters I will classify this as yandere/ darkfic. Soft(?) Gore mentions.

(A.N:I don't know what you did to get these men's attention, but good fucking luck, lol)

Love is what they this, this lesser thing beings pursue for some semblance of worth, importance. A liability, and a weakness that {Sukuna} doesn't have. But he supposes that is love by human standards. Curses fare no better. He will not debate whether curses can love or not, he does not exist to either, and he will hold himself to no standards but his own.

You are soft and sweet in his arms, and he enjoys that. Your sounds please him, whether in pleasure or pain. He savors the taste of your blood on his tongue. He wants to rip you to shreds, but he holds himself back. It will be too troublesome to find someone good enough to replace you.

So he supposes that he loves you, in his own way. The only way that matters.

He admits that he greatly enjoys the way you look at him. Your eyes shine, and while mortal means of wealth never enticed him, these are the only jewels he wants to hold in his hands.

"Stop looking at me with those eyes."

You're held up against his side, cradled in one pair of arms, bloody and tired and limp. He is not quite sated after his latest binge, and so he holds you; the remains are scattered around you both, twitching and shivering in the open air. Much like you are, you have to stop that–Predator instincts demand he sinks his teeth into you. Your flesh is a delicacy that he knows well.

But your sweet eyes– so wide and tinged with horror, are alive and bright, like lanterns cutting through the dark mist of night. So pretty. What would he do without them?

"Stop looking at me like that pet, or I'll pluck your eyes out again, like the pretty jewels they are." They were soft and veiny in his mouth, popping like gushers. Reverse cursed technique keeps you in one piece.

As if to taunt him, your eyes gleam brighter with your tears, and his hands twitch around you.

He must always catch himself. Sometimes he doesn't. He wants to keep going, keep going further and further till you're nothing more than viscera, blood in his mouth. Until the pain turns you into a curse, held above them all, just like he is. It would be better for you. It would be better for him.

But, no, not yet. He enjoys your human softness. He deserves it.

"Oh dearest." Your tears fall out unbidden, and he sighs, brings you up to his face, and licks the tracks they run down your face. Sweet, just like the rest of you.

You will stay here forevermore. You will never belong to anyone else, much less yourself.

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

{Mahito} is a creature born from every nasty thing humanity has ever felt or thought or done. A maelstrom, a calamity. Not a catastrophy. He is still happening after all.

Love is twisted for him, it's a thing of malcontent for him. In fact, it's one of the main things that made him up. A lover's anger at a cheating partner, vicious joy at their pain, the satisfaction of a lover's vengeance. The soft vindictiveness that comes after, when you pick up the pieces and put them back together again. It twists and quivers up in the light, and Mahito offers it all to you with a smile and horrid gleam in his dual colored eyes.

"Stop….stop looking at me with those eyes." You can barely whisper. There is a weight in your chest. Mahito quirks his head, a mockery of innocence, and doesn't even pout to make light of the situation, like he usually does.

Maybe its because he's never gone this far before. His pupils are blown out, leaving hardly any color, and they don't leave you. It scares you. He is smiling, he has been smiling this entire time, and you hate that smile. It has never been a good thing.

"Do I scare you?"

You keep quiet. Because you can't think, and you know better to blurt out the first thing in your head.

Yes, yes, you do. You know you do. And I know you like that.

"Your soul is finally trembling back into place." He hums, trailing his hands along your prone form, and you can't help the little whimper that slips past your clenched teeth. You can't handle it again. But Mahito grins, and squeezes, hard. Like a child with a fresh new toy. You're sure he's leaving bruises. The kindest touch he's given you so far.

"I worried for a moment that I'd have to mish-mash you back together, but you're fine. We're fine."

You are not fine. You are absolutely not fine.

"I tried to be gentle, like you asked me to. I tried to be considerate. But, just, look at you." The shaky exhale of his breath sends your heart racing, and your hands rush over to clamp over his wrists. He lets you.

Your skin is broken and bruised and bleeding. Your head is fuzzy, but panic keeps you alert. Your heart lugs in your chest, heavy and thumping and you feel the blood pound in your ears, it makes you want to tear yourself out open in order to stop the sick rhythm. You are sore, and you can't tell what exactly is broken, or bent out of place, but you're not dead, not this time.

You don't know how many next times you have.

Mahito softly shakes his head, looks down at all your broken and bloody bits. A breathless smile spreads across his face, while his brows furrow in question.

"How am I ever going to replace you?"

You whimper.

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

{Kenjaku} has means of helping you 'reincarnate'. He says helping, but really, you don't have a choice in the matter.

He has done this dozens of times, every time he obtains a new body. You are always the first thing he attends to after, your resurrection is priority. He wants your opinion, he says, and your attention, he doesn't. Your love. You're the only one worthy, and interesting, enough of standing by his side. You will remain there.

He smiles at you in this new meat suit, long black hair and smooth skin, a monks ensemble. He sits cross-legged, chin in hand.

"Stop looking at me with those eyes dearest."

"Or what? You'll pluck them out again?" You join him at the low table, if only to glare at him closer. He smiles, almost blissful.

"Not this time, I think this form suits you more than the last. I'd hate to blind you once more."

"I'll kill you one day, Kenjaku." He nods, mockingly.

"They say love is the greatest curse."

"You don't love me." You don't hiss, you don't growl or grit the words out through clenched teeth. Your hatred and malice is a dark, cold thing, settled in the pits of your belly like sediment at the bottom of the deepest ocean. It slips from your lips like the oldest poison.

"We've done this song and dance for centuries. Your morbid curiosity and lust for power is what keeps me here. I'm a pet."

"No love," he reaches over and boops your nose. He has gotten more playful in this body, and it makes you see red. It makes you afraid.

"You're an experiment."

"Like your cursed wombs?"

"No, something more personal." You roll your eyes, and move to serve your own tea. Fuck him.

"And what experiment am I an unwilling participant in, hm? How long it takes to break me?"

"How long it takes for you to love me," he corrects. The lines of the body's scar are shiny pink in the light. You want to tear it bloody.

"Which is one and the same, I suppose."

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

{Choso} exists for his brothers, and that is all. That is all he wants and all he feels he was truly made for, and there is no room for anything else.

Anyone else.

Much less you.

"Stop looking at me with…those eyes." He doesn't understand adoration, only duty, and he is unused to the soft rapture in your eyes. It is wasted on a being like him, anyways.

"What eyes?" You droll out, still clearly lost wherever your mind went. He tries not to think where.

"You know what eyes you're making. Stop it." He hates how the softness leaves you, brow tugging down.

"Oh, sorry. I don't want to make you uncomfortable with all the, um, staring."

"It's not the staring. It's the reason behind it. Your feelings are wasted on me. Place them elsewhere." You don't flinch but your shoulders hunch, and he does not take back his words. They are true and they need to be said. Your feelings are wasted on him.

He just wishes he didn't return them.

"...I can't help the fact that I love you."

"You don't." You can't. You can't.

"Even if you did, it doesn't matter."

"Don't say that. Of course it matters."

"If love ever mattered my brothers and I wouldn't exist. You would understand the situation, and what this means for all of us. Your love is shallow, because you only see that which is in front of you." He sighs, and does not meet your gaze. He doesn't know what you see.

"There is no future for us." And no future that he can secure you.

His…father created him and his brothers on a vicious whim. He will not let you be dragged into that same cruelty.

There's no need to weep. He lets you leave to compose yourself, and doesn't let you take his heart with you.

A half curse, half human thing such as he– half wretched and half tainted blood, all sharp edges and harsh things.

He was not made for love. He was not made for soft things. He was born for tragedy and he will end that way too, and he will comply with his duties as an older brother.

He can not offer you soft things. Even if he dreams of your smiles.

So, please. Stop…looking at him with those eyes.

[hockeyisforthegays]

What made you want to write/come up with the idea for heroine?

OOHH thank you for asking i will do my best to answer. some of the details are probably lost to "i didn't store this in my long term memory" tho alsdjjdlska.

so. ok. i was an anime-only at the time and started thinking about it in some form mid-season 2 airing, because like, well. i've never written a fix it fic before, i dont think, but i knew shibuya was gonna wreck shop and it did. but i think hidden inventory arc was a pretty big piece of the conceptual puzzle here too because--

well honestly what a lot of it came down to was: i love yuuji. i love gojo. i love the yuuji-gojo dynamic and i'm always wanting to explore it, have since s1.

and then when i saw?? hidden inventory gojo?? that sure was SOMETHING like omg my man was a bitch. the dichotomy between teen and adult gojo is my muse. so the idea of how yuuji would experience teen gojo....

i remember as a kid in other fandoms reading a couple of fic that had that basic premise of "character time travels and has to fit in with the previous generation as youths" and obviously those left a pretty big impression on me. cause i think abt them all the time. wherever those fics are now they're definitely creditable for heroine existing. but tbh i started writing the first scenes just to see what would happen and then--

then i basically went. oh if yuuji met geto suguru would it be fucked up or what. and then i started that scene and they went no actually, have you considered we have things to bond over? specifically eating gross shit? and then they ran away with the story together and a lot of things kind of followed from that. so another source of inspiration really is just the suguyuu dynamic which i had literally never thought about until i put them in a jar together and shook it. can you say your fic is inspired by itself? cause it a little is.

speaking of how i started writing mid-s2 actually so obviously there wasn't the immediate intention to have "yuuji ate mahitorb" be the source of his abilities. i was at first operating off the theories that sprung from the s1 yuuji-mahito + yuuji-todo + s2 yuuji-choso fights that yuuji inherently had some kind of soul-based ability that affected memories. before of course we learned that choso is just that brocon and todo is indeed just a maladaptive daydreamer for real. (if you read carefully you can probably identify the point where i started catching up with the manga LOL but the first handful of chapters were powered by speculation and spoilers alone)

... tbh some of our plot points, like yuuji not having some memories, are literally a case of "well. i havent figured that out yet, so let's say he doesn't know." asldjalskjdal i have since worked out the mechanics of the fic and its lore and i think it's stronger for having them be mysterious to yuuji but it IS funny to think about how i was just like AND I'LL FIGURE IT OUT LATER. writing heroine is just trust falling into my own arms most of the time

[cherry-queens-blog]

If I woke up and saw these three at least (I couldn't decide on my fourth 😅.) But these three...

Girl I'm falling out of life on the spot lmao 😂. I'd forget how to breath so fast and I'd probably pass out due to lack of air 😂.

With hand daddy (Shigaraki) I could see us getting along and playing video games together while having snacks. I'm letting him win no matter what cause I ain't catching those hands lmao 🤣.

With Mahito idk how that would go but I could see him toying with me none stop or we'd discuss stuff about souls I guess. Not sure how it would go since I know his ass would be like "I'mma kill her later still" lmao.

Envy would just be a straight asshole the whole time lmao 🤣 he ain't gonna play with me like Mahito would he'd sit there like "listen you insignificant worm" and just shit talk.

Mahito I'd flirt with big time though cause he's just so cute and playful sometimes but he sucks so much 😭.

Shigaraki would definitely look through my things after seeing my statue but would definitely get mad when he spots my all might Funko pop lmao. But he'd definitely see my shirts of him and the league, my Funko of the league, my beanie of the league lol.

Envy would see my Funko of him too and call me stupid for having it 😅.

@isabeauwolf

Okay peeps, I'm curious.... if you woke up and your top 4 current anime crushes and fixations were in the in your room how would you react?

Yes, they would be reverse isakai'd with their powers and all.

Here's mine

I would be a blushing mess

No doubt all of them would be confused that I know who they all are after I said their full names or villain alias'.

Plus Law and Kai would see my merch of them. On top of me wearing both my LawLu shirt and Monsterhaul hoodie X///////x

Try not to freak out and have a full blown fangirl mode activate.

Try to convince Kai that he's in a world that's quirkless and all of them that they are fiction characters in our world?

Pff, the hell would Law and Kai reaction knowing that my daughter knows them with how much I fangirl about them. She at least knows who Dabi is, about his quirk and his burns.

Would Geto and Dabi be chill about the whole thing? Or glare at me.

God forbid, if Kai and Touya saw my fanfics and spicy, smut I wrote between them and my oc Mary X/////////x Not to mention what's on my computer.

Of course, I'm overthinking. How can I not?!

What about you guys? I wanna hear your answers, please?

@fanofflames @slayfics @m3gumibear @angelblueflame @cherry-queens-blog @supreme-burrito @staitc-rj

[plastikun]

— “DON’T YOU FEEL SCARED?”

( 01. thought paths )

[contents] [next chapter]

[mahito x reader]

word count : 500

chapter summary : a short introduction to the story

sorry that this is such a lame start lol

‘damn it, of all the days that it could have rained,’ you thought in frustration, running across the wet street once the flashing light of the crosswalk signalled that you could go. you could feel your clothes getting cold and your hair sticking slick to the back of your neck with every raindrop that fell down from the sky. raising a hand to your head to push the wet hair from your eyes, you tried not to bump into anyone else trying to get away from the rain as you continued your miserable journey home through the downpour.

the walk was long and the hour was late, so not even a bus ran that could pick you up and out of the cold weather take you back to your warm and cozy home. in the end you decided to stop and take a breather, bending over and placing your hands on your thighs to catch your breath. you stared up at the dreary sky after you picked yourself back up; it didn’t seem like the rain would decide to let up any time soon, as the clouds hung just as heavy and dark as they had when the rain started. you sighed and reached into your bag for your phone because maybe, just maybe you could call a taxi to take you home. the bag and it’s contents, along with the clothes you were wearing, were wet you noticed, and upon further inspection, your phone was dead as well.

you crouched down low in the middle of the sidewalk with your head in your hands, the world was silent save for the consistent pattering of the rain on the pavement. you must have done something absolutely horrible in your past life to have deserved something like this.

a warm and flickering light pulled you from the pit of worry you had fallen into and caught your attention from the other side of the street. you squinted your eyes a bit in hopes of being able to read the far away sandwich-board sign, but it was too blurry against the rain. it was definitely open though, so maybe you would be able to dry off at least a little and continue the journey home.

inside the small shop were an array of small brown tables with small matching barstools, and plush, softly coloured couches that lined the walls. the lack of people surprised you; why would such a cozy place be so empty?

you opened the glass door, a small jingle above you announcing your arrival.

“oh... hello!” you jumped at the sound of a voice coming from the direction of the register. a head popped out from under the counter and you immediately felt your stomach drop; you had sworn that you had seen the same man on your train to work, as well as the person who had delivered the food to your house last night... maybe he just had one of those faces.

maybe you were just mistaken.