#the ideal relationship dynamic tbh

[amosprinz]

my fave autistic x adhd duo (although i also think kaveh got autism bc…..well im projecting.)

[esmeislewd]

Go ahead, domesticate me. Turn my wild and free nature into an obedient and spoilt one. Ply me with snacks and movie nights and cuddles to soften me up and get me used to overeating and laziness. Keep me edged or drunk or high to dull my mind and make me more receptive to you. Shape and mould my personality, habits, and body. Leave me utterly unrecognisable to anyone who knew me before you came into my life. The smart, slender, girl they once knew will be gone, consumed by gluttony and lust and love. And all that will remain is a slow, submissive and soft wife. Not a spark of independence left in her placid happy expression, just an unstoppable hunger for food and pleasure and love, little more than your pet at this point.~

[fluffypotatey]

Not surprised Odysseus is related to the Greek gods cause that's basically a requirement for all Greek heroes, but I'm feeling some kind of way that it's hermes

YEAH!!! Like I always knew Ody was Athena’s champion which I thought was unique for Greek Heroes bc most are demigods, but also it makes sense for him to still have a divine relation since he’s technically royalty. a lot of kings based their authority on the fact that they have divine blood (whether immediate family or no)

but the fact that Ody’s Greek god relative is Hermes just hits different in the best way. tbh i have really found it a bit of a tragedy that Ody was not Hermes chosen champion at first simply because of the similarities between then AND having the god of traveling as your patron is super helpful for Ody especially (because…reasons) like no offense to Athena because her and Ody have a really interesting dynamic and wisdom is a very prominent theme that follows Ody, but it doesn’t encapsulate the whole man

AND THEB IT TURNS OUT THEY’RE RELATED SO MY WOE OF A MISSED OPPORTUNITY WAS OVERTURNED

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 5!!!

[todayisafridaynight]

Genuinely hoping they don’t give Ichiban a love interest or something. I just detest focusing on romances with some exceptions like whatever Nanba and Saeko keep doing tbh 💀 And I do not have high hopes after the things they kept doing with Kiryu in different games. Actually that’s one of my fears with 8 😭😭

if it's any consolidation, i doubt they'll give ichi a love interest- or it won't be a main plot point anyhow

rgg's never really handled romance with tact, and i think as the series went on they kinda realized that and had romance plots sort of fizzle out (Y1's climax was Certainly a love triangle, and while Y2 had kiryu and kaoru romance is never a major prevalent thing again. closest we get is akiyama and yasuko but it's about as relevant as akiyama's part, then it's not really brought up again)

[flashhwing]

shout out to dream!me from last night whose response to a friend telling me she had a crush on the guy who just kissed me was to go “if it helps it was a really shit kiss”

[ikemenomegas]

the myy oc is simultaneously the one to make obnoxious little squeeing noises whenever megumi does literally anything and make tsumiki bring along disposable cameras on vacation because it's the only way to get her to admit what she's *actually* looking at, and the one to literally puke in the bushes or hide against a wall when Satoru does something that gives them secondhand embarrassment

literally the can't take it but can dish it out guardian XD

[sxcret-garden-archive]

pretty sure like 95% of my story ideas die in their roots because i have no idea how to create conflict

[heart-shaped-chains]

I need someone to obsess* over tbh

[adventures-in-mangaland]

Even More Dead Boy Detectives Fic Recs

I've discovered some amazing new authors since my last post! And writers I've already recced have published more great stories So here's another fic rec post!

Who? You mean your teammate in the Codependency World Cup? (series) by RoseGanymede95

I couldn't chose! They're all great! Basically a series of Edwin and Charles through the years and on cases pre-show. It scratches that adjusting-to-being-dead/newly-escaped-from-Hell itch and the authors writing is magic! It also fleshes out a really interesting conflict in the payneland dynamic: Charles' drive to protect Edwin at all costs clashing with Edwin's guilt over putting Charles at risk/depriving him of some ideal afterlife. Parts one and four also introduces Constantine/Johanna and part three revolves around an absolutely gut-wrenching temporary break-up. 😢

In Hell I'll Be in Good Company by laylabinx

Charles rescuing Edwin from Hell does not go smoothly. Just. Bucketloads of Trauma for both of them. And for you, the Reader. It's so good though!

your fangs in my neck (like an anchor like a vow) by shadowquill17

Vampire Edwin AU! It's great because it combines the (homo)eroticism of vampiric feeding with Charles' whole bisexual crisis and post-confession Edwin worrying about making Charles uncomfortable. Also Charles is some kind of demigod/immortal agent of divine vengeance which is an AMAZING detail and I desperately want to see some fanart!

The same author's ongoing story to the pain is also excellent though very angsty (cw temporary character death). I'm anxiously waiting for an update!

To Memory Now I Can't Recall by engineering_madonna

This is an amnesia fic and the most recent in an established relationship series. The first two installments feature the boys getting together and navigating their new relationship, so pulling the old 'character A forgets their whole romantic relationship with character B' trope hits especially hard! The whole series is lovely, but I am WEAK for temporary-amnesia.

Lemonade & Sunrises by paraph

A Quiet Place AU! The boys are alive, but they're the only ones. Very bleak but in a way that makes me want more!

1999 au (series) by websters_lieb

The boys figure their shit out in the 90s. Also, Edwin gets to read Maurice and queer theory. The cases in both stories are compelling and the author's writing and characterisation of the boys are excellent.

I also recommend offer me that deathless death which is about the boys' first meeting, Charles' funeral and the birth of the agency.

if I could reach the stars (i'd give them all to you) by ObsessedWithFandom

Charles falls first, Edwin falls harder. This is an AU of the author's excellent Charles' bisexual awakening fic, which I also highly recommend. It has lovely OCs and Charles having a sweet little friendship/romance with the boy he saved in canon, which actually makes his death a whole lot more tragic.

Came up from that lake of fire by ghostinthelibrary

Charles and Edwin get caught escaping Hell and promise to capture a demon-eating ghost called The Deathless in exchange for their freedom. With the added twist that they get to be alive again! An exciting case, high stakes and all the alive-again culture shocks and emotional/interpersonal drama you could ask for.

gig officially gigged by laiqualaurelote

Band AU! It shouldn't work but it does. Which might also be an in-universe review for the band tbh. Idk, I loved Edwin's massive obscure musical instruments and Charles being his unpaid roadie. Peak Found Family Feels.

No Rehearsing It, No Reversing It by DontOffendTheBees

Charles overthinks being in love with Edwin, my beloved. This time with increasingly flimsy pretexts for why they NEED to kiss. Just perfect Idiots in Love, no notes.

The Case of David Bowie's Made up Sexuality by williamvapespeare

The agency attempt to help a living lesbian couple deal with a haunting. Meanwhile, Charles struggles through his bisexual (re)awakening. With bonus past (living) Charles no-homo-ing himself to the nth degree. Pure of heart, dumb of ass, indeed.

The lamps are going out by CasiHuman

Vengeful Spirit Edwin AU! Has some interesting ghost lore and Edwin being convinced his touch is painful to Charles (love that trope!). Also features some of the author's adorable/hilarious fanart at the end.

just frame the halves (and call them brothers) by Anonymous

Crystal stumbles upon the ghost of Edwin's older brother, who hires the agency to free him and his platoon from the battleground they've been haunting. Case fic with interesting details about Edwin's family life and an awkward as hell family reunion.

the case of the very long ferry ride by obsceme

Sex pollen but with skin hunger, so it's more touching turned making out and hand jobs in a bathroom. Interesting use of ghost lore and it's cute and well written.

Form 239, Schedule L by sanctuary_for_all

Charles Rowland's Love Language is Acts of Service: The Fic. So many feels! Plus Afterlife worldbuilding and some quality Night Nurse rep.

don't go sharing your devotions (lay all your love on me) by Hephanna

The boys and Crystal accidentally summon an alternate universe version of Charles. He's very... handsy. Charles being jealous of himself is objectively hilarious and it looks like it could be heading towards throuple territory. Possibly even a foursome, if alternate Edwin figures out parallel universe travel. Which he probably will.

Still a Better Lovestory by Vamillepudding

Hanahaki disease! Charles is on the case but Edwin's being weirdly uncooperative about his own curse. I loved the worldbuilding (there's a whole sisterhood of washerwomen!) and the angst, plus the writing is excellent.

The author has also written Eternal Sunshine, in which Edwin is cursed to feel no love of any kind. It makes for an interesting character study, contrasting cursed Edwin, his public reserve and his actual personality.

[danlous]

Months of reading how Armand is the Big Bad man behind the curtain manipulating and mindcontrolling everyone with his godlike powers, and now suddenly in one day it switched to cruel Pimp Louis manipulating and enslaving Armand and Armand being his poor victim. I'm begging you to look at these characters and their relationships with some nuance. I'm not denying that Louis is trying to manipulate Armand in some moments (Jacob said it himself in the post-episode bit) but seeing that park scene as Louis intentionally evoking Armand's trauma and a pimp and slave assuming their old roles is in my opinion a stretch and i didn't read it that way. Tbh i also find it pretty offensive that some people are acting like when Louis was a pimp he was doing something similar to people who subjected Armand to literal sexual slavery because they're vastly different situations.

Arun isn't Armand's 'slave name' or 'prostitute name', it was his actual birth name before he was sold and abused, and he lost that name due to abuse. If Louis had actually wanted to push a master-slave dynamic he would've probably called Armand Amadeo, because that was the name Armand's abuser, who Armand served and in some way still loves, gave to him. When Louis was a pimp he notably also didn't actually act particularly domineering with sex workers, on the contrary he was usually friendly to them, because he felt guilty for exploiting women and tried to convince himself he was just helping and working with them and that they were equals. He made sex workers like Bricktop Williams minority owners of his business and they felt comfortable with criticizing him. If Louis had actually 'treated Armand like one of his prostitutes' in this episode he would've acted completely differently. Remember also that Armand has a remarkable mind gift and that Louis is bad at hiding his thoughts: if Louis had actually been trying to manipulate Armand in this specific way, Armand would very likely know it.

In the beginning of the episode Armand is frustrated that Louis doesn't acknowledge that they're companions, and Louis expresses that they don't really know each other. Later at the restaurant Armand gets angry and uses his powers dramatically which upsets Louis. He also talks to Louis rather harshly, saying that he and Santiago are acting like fledglings (children) and angrily tells Louis to come back when he leaves. Later Armand comes to apologize bringing flowers. All this reminds Louis of Lestat, and reveals how apprehensive he still is about Armand. Armand deciding to tell Louis his story is a conscious effort to show vulnerability and convince Louis of what he promised: that Armand isn't like Lestat and he isn't going to hurt him. Jacob said that dreamstat represents not only Lestat but Louis' doubts about Armand. In the museum scene this is particularly obvious when Louis feels deep sympathy for Armand, but at the same time dreamstat - a part of Louis - looks angry and distrustful. According to Jacob in the park scene as Louis lets go of Lestat he's also letting go of those doubts and accepting Armand as he is and for who he is.

So when Louis calls Armand by his birth name that could be considered his 'real' name even though no one has called him that for centuries, i see it as him saying 'Do we see each other now? Are we honest about things now? Can i trust that you are who you say you are?' When Armand calls Louis maitre he's trying to establish an impression of equality, because as they both know Armand is the maitre and the leader of the coven and the one with much more power. For Armand the ideal of love is the one of mutual worship and servitude. Like many things with Armand, his actions in this episode are both sincere and manipulative, and his seeming submissiveness is also certain kind of domination that helps him to get what he wants.

I just don't think their relationship is anything like Louis being a master and Armand being a slave at all. It's a very, very complicated and mercurial relationship that is not easily defined and where the dynamics are constantly shifting. As Jacob said, they're constantly flip-flopping between who's the dominant one and who's the submissive one, and who needs what out of the other. He also said that at the end of this episode their relationship takes on this almost BDSM kind of role playing where their roles switch, which implies that a) it's a play and not what their relationship is actually like and b) there was earlier a different dynamic where Armand was more dominant. Their Rashid role play in Dubai was also that, a role play.

When talking about those Louis' 'manipulative instincts' as Jacob called them, it needs to be considered they're something that Louis developed having to live in a racist society for all his life ("using his weakness to rise") and being in an abusive relationship for decades. For Louis that kind of soft power has often been the only power he has, and of course he's resorting to it when in a relationship with much older and much more powerful person he doesn't fully trust. The way i perceive Louis and Armand's relationship, it's a fragile, carefully crafted design built on contradictions, performances and illusions, where they both seek to maintain a fantasy where they both feel sufficiently in control and the relief of releasing that control at the same time

[vagabond-umlaut]

gojo satoru x reader fic recs (I)

‣ now that i've got loads of free time, thought why shouldn't i use it well by showing (few of) my fave authors their much well-deserved love, respect and attention? ^_^

‣ this is merely a list of works i've enjoyed reading. kindly heed the tags and warnings in each of them and consume content responsibly, at your own discretion. that being said, i own neither these fics nor the characters nor the above gif. enjoy reading! 🥰

⌀ all that is solid [series] by GrilledTandooriSmoke on ao3

one of the best series there is. period. the fluff, the angst, the drama, the humor, the romance, the friendship, the plot, the dialogues - everything is top-notch in this series, i'm telling you. bonus points for being narrated in both reader's and gojo's pov.

⌀ The King is But a Man [series] by Petrichorium on ao3 (@petrichorium on tumblr)

royal!gojo who's terribly in love with the reader x reader who's equally (but way more discreetly) in love with gojo. add to that, the trope of childhood sweethearts reunited as adults, excellent communication between the couple and a wonderfully-crafted world and dialogues - what more could you ask from a series?

⌀ Ten to None (Soulmate AU) (oneshot) by Oreosmama on ao3

a fic which i adore with every fibre of my being. i will not say anything more about this, except to request you to go read this. you'll love it. (especially the fantabulous ending. btw, did i already say how much i'm in love with how well-written this fic is?)

⌀ Scarred [oneshot] by cainis on ao3

one of the best angst-with-a-happy-ending fic there is. i wish i could give thousands of kudos for the heart-wrenchingly amazing way the author has portrayed gojo's character here.

⌀ Mother of otherness, Eat me [oneshot] by itsbaby on ao3

one of the most beautiful works i've read so far. told from yuuji's pov, it explores gojo and reader's relationship and its nuances in a way seldom done before. however, what stole the show for me, was the soft and sweet mother-son duo the reader and yuuji grow to be in this fic. i really love this one-of-a-kind masterpiece.

⌀ something sweet [oneshot] by heresan on ao3 (@pretty-toru on tumblr)

i love love love this fic. it's so fluffy, so funny, so cute, so heart-warming... just read this fic, people. you won't ever be disappointed by the dynamics reader and gojo have in this one. one of my all-time faves, tbh.

⌀ teen dad Gojo [series] by pantao on ao3 (@seravphs on tumblr)

a sweet and realistic depiction of reader and gojo being teenaged parents to young megumi, all the while they try to figure out their feelings for each other. a perfect mixture of fluff, angst, drama, slice-of-life and romance, imo. (also, the author's notes are pure gold. whatever you do, please don't miss reading them! :D)

⌀ To see those eyes I prize above mine own (twoshot) by koyama on ao3

if you wish to watch godlike!gojo willing to let go of his powers, out of guilt and immense, immense, protective love for the reader, this is the ideal fic for you. i'm in awe of the way the writer wrote gojo's complex persona and the way the sorcerer realized his feelings for the reader. (the second chapter's the cherry on the cake. it's so good!!!!)

⌀ keeping up with the fushigojos (series) by @augustinewrites on tumblr

fluff? A+; angst? A+; drama? A+; characterization & dialogues? A+; humour? A+++++. a sureshot way to end a long hectic tiring day on a happy note is to read this series. (my go-to comfort series, ngl. :])

⌀ CAT & DOG (oneshot) by @mimiriko on tumblr

an adorable fic of gojo being in love with the reader, who knows, yet doesn't really know, much about it. plus, the feline-like features of gojo are sooo cute... and this fic is sooo sweet... the story left me smiling when i finished reading it.

⌀ surely summer wasn't over yet [3 chapters] by 3rdgymbros on ao3

an amazing fic set against the backdrop of the hidden inventory arc. the portrayal of the characters and their dynamics is simply impeccable. despite my kind-of-dislike towards this particular arc of the manga, i really enjoyed reading this one.

[neyafromfrance95]

Something I like about Ghoulcy shippers is you don't say sexist or racist shit about Barb, instead you say she has hot villain potential or just write in-character fics about how she and Cooper fell apart.

i love barb and her relationship with cooper! they were such a classy hot power couple!

tbh, i would love lucy x barb interactions bc i have this prompt about barb being reminded of cooper she was married to by lucy, and wanting to keep her by her side bc of that.

and i absolutely love max (my ideal type of a man) and his relationship with lucy even though i think that they are each other's first love phases.

it's just that i primarily ship lucy x the ghoul bc as a dead dove/enemies to lovers/mirrors of one another enjoyer i think their dynamic is wickedly engaging. reminds me of hannigram.

generally speaking, i think shippers need to become more mature. all these shipping wars and making things so unnecessarily heavy are horribly frustrating.

luckily, i haven't seen many ghoulcy shippers hating on max/barb, but i'm sure there are a few and i'd advice ghoulcy shipper to not interact with such people as they always bring toxicity to the fandoms.

[kawakalalala]

Can you describe what you envision Abby’s ideal partner to be like? Physically and otherwise.

still not feeling 100% so i apologize if this is all over the place

i love rambling & and this is a lovely question!

honestly the way i picture abby is kind of similar to the way i picture myself. when i write my fics, i never imagine myself as the reader. Weirdly enough, the dynamic i picture abby and reader falling into fits the dynamic of a lot of relationships i’ve been in, so i’m essentially just writing fantasies about my own long distance relationship and applying them to a fictional character. (that’s the most lesbian thing ive ever said)

i don’t think she has a type at all tbh, I can’t see her being picky in the slightest? I think she cares for people’s character over anything else. physically, she loves all of you!

i want my abby to feel like a real person rather than a stone top sex god with zero depth, no shade but i think our girl deserves more, especially because of how deep and complex her character is.

firstly, abby would def be w a girl who bosses her around a little! I think she tends to get forced into taking initiative in her day to day life, not that she minds, but theres a strong need deep inside her to be taken care of. she is the little spoon!!!

as a part of the tall masc community, a lot of us either go for large height difs in someone short, or or we’ll go for someone else tall. I think she has no real preference.

i think i see her going more for fems, but not exclusively.

nsfw!!!

this girl is a SWITCH!! she def leans top, but she’s not mean. she’s kind of quiet, and I think her match made in heaven would be a power bottom.

she’d go silent and red in the face watching you straddle her, hands and blown out eyes tracing your body.

“prettiest fuckin’ girl ive ever seen,” she can barely get the words out. she touches you everywhere you need to be touched, knows your body like its hers.

she doesn’t realize how hard she rolls her hips when you lean down to kiss her.

if you’re bold with your words, it goes straight to her cunt.

“y’like that baby?” you say, and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. she’s GONE!

she definitely loves eating u out but she secretly loves getting taken care of. she’ll never say she wants it, but you both know.

“all ive done is kiss you, abs, s’it turn you on this much?” she nods and holds her breath while you draw a line through her folds w the tip of your middle finger.

“such a good girl f’me,” a groan fights its way from her lips

“need you so bad,” she says, and your name rolls gently and brokenly off her lips, somewhere between a beg and a prayer.

you think she looks the best like this, hair plastered to her forehead, pupils wide, and lips swollen from your kisses, and her chest heaving, cunt clenching around three of your fingers while your tongue flicks at her clit, over, and over, and over,

and she comes w a gasp and a whine, hips stuttering, eyebrows weighing down her eyelids.

you plant a kiss below her belly button you see her abs tighten

AND THEN THEY KITH!

n u take a shower or a bath and she tucks her head into the crook of your neck while you run your fingers through her braid, and massage her scalp, and she swears she could die happy right here :(((

[namazunomegami]

Into the Void

Pairing: Geto Suguru x gn!reader

Synopsis: Geto is so succumbed to his ideals that you have no choice but to run. But the hunt for you is more than a simple chase. It's resurrection. It's repentance. Just like in the parable of the lost sheep.

CW: canon compliant, established relationship, predator/prey, injuries, blood, toxic dynamics, heavy religious symbolism, emotional distress, dissociation, tiny bit of hurt/comfort, yandere behavior, Geto is a manipulative ass how surprising

WC: 5.2k whoops

Credits: my dear @notveryrussian for proofreading but tbh I should start calling you my editor from now on lmao. I'm glad you enjoyed my sneak peeks so much 💕

Song rec: since I can't control myself, I picked 3 songs by Nine Inch Nails that gives the perfect vibes to the story. For the exposition, I recommend Heresy, mostly because the lyrics resonates with the reader's thoughts about Geto. For the escape/chase part, I picked Eraser for the creepy vibes and reader's slowly deterioriating sanity. For the closing part, I picked A warm place because it's a comforting yet a bit gloomy track

A/N: Saying that this idea possessed me is an understatement. Initially I only wanted to put effort into the whole chase scene but obviously I started to add lore into the whole thing. And since they grew on me and I simply love their dynamic, a part 2 is on the way yaaay.

Minors shall not interact unless they wanna get punched.

And a usual warning for dark content. I wanted to keep it mild but I couldn't. Maybe I'm a lil bit too skilled when it comes to writing about fear.

It’s all too painful to think that maybe running away with Geto wasn’t the best idea.

Of course you loved him, you loved the twins too and the makeshift family you created, it really healed some of the wounds you received in the past. But you wished it would’ve stayed that way. Living together, somewhere far away, isolated, in peace. Have a fresh start, build a nest for the four of you and fill it up with love.

But he had other plans.

There were a lot of improvements in the initial phase of your plans. Building community, uniting the herd. You enjoyed some reverence from the followers too. Eventually the initial number of breakthroughs began to stagnate, despite all the effort. It became routine, like you were being dragged through the same day for years and years without end. When you were faced with even more setbacks, you started to realize that you basically never left the temple and it soon began to feel like a cage. Golden and holy. It was draining to see people lose their sense of individuality and how he became their only source of validation. It was torment. Living life as an idol of worship tucked into a forgotten corner of a church. Praised like a twisted Gothic Madonna with a blue cloth over your head, but in reality you weep, you’re their Mater Dolorosa, with swords piercing your sorrowful heart.

The most devastating thing about realizing you’re not fit to run a cult, is the fact that you lack the most understated yet important aspect of it: believing in the agenda you want to spread. How could you guide all those helpless, simple-minded sheep while questioning whether your destination is real or not? Maybe that Canaan has nothing to do with milk and honey, instead it’s just a pile of rubble.

You soon got tired of it all. His drive, his goal, all too impossible to achieve. Maybe he knew he could never make it happen, but it consumed him regardless. You’ve lost the most cherished parts of him to his hatred, his deeply repressed rage against any injustices he had to deal with after the infamous Star Plasma incident.

You weren’t sure about your feelings towards Geto anymore. Were you afraid of him? Angry at him? Bitter? Disappointed? Worried? It all turned into mush, a grotesque, black liquid as the thin walls of the temple slowly made you feel like they were closing in on you. You had no idea how much time you had, until your unresolved feelings will taint the whole place.

You always circled back to the worst possible action to protect your soft, aching heart… When you thought that nothing will change for the better, you wanted to run away. You wanted to hide. The ambivalence of your feelings towards him weighed on your heart and conscience, like a thousand stones. You loved him, yet you loathed what has become of him. Despite that you trusted him with the map of your soul, made it through all the highs and lows of your relationship so far, all the deep abysses of pain and suffering.

Maybe you should run, just for the sake of it. To test how it will make you feel. Will it make you feel freed? At ease? Will it lift the weights on your chest? Will this sense of incoming doom vanish?

Maybe you should find Gojo. He wouldn’t condemn you, but he would be disappointed. If you set your judgement and resentment to aside, he’s the only one who can talk with the higher ups to scratch your name off the list of curse users who are on death row.

How much time did you need to forge your plan? Not even a single minute. It was only natural for you to memorize everybody’s routine, how to distinguish the sound of their steps, to pick a timeframe when nobody is lurking around the halls. The first (and probably last) time you were glad those who have hurt you gave you a skill, besides the ability to harness cursed energy of course. They made you stealthy, alert, observant.

And when Geto left you to cater to his followers, you decided to put your plan into action.

Your body is strung tight with the tension of waiting, agitation making you feel as if you were unraveling at the seams - but something deep inside of your mind pleaded for you to stay. Agony and anxiety were plaguing you until you’ve found enough courage to get up and sneak out. Now, you had the chance to show off everything you’ve learned: sliding the doors shut so slowly that they don’t make a noise, walking down the corridors with socked feet, carefully putting the middle parts of your feet on the floor, instead of your heels, easily avoiding those parts that creak.

Sometimes, when he was immersed in his thoughts, he was amused by how faint your steps sounded.

An involuntary instinct warns you. It’s trying to convince you that he can see you through the eyes of bodhisattvas residing in the thangka paintings decorating the walls. You almost give up your quest as you glance at the depiction of Vajrabhairava. In all its anger, with its six faces and twelve limbs. A dreadful beast that defies death itself.

You don’t want to do this to him, do you?

You look away from the painting, focusing on getting your shoes on and climbing out through the window. As you’re squatting on the windowpane, you can see all of Tokyo stretched out beneath you. You’re a little bit annoyed that all temples are built on a mountain. A long way to go, but you can never know when this place will turn into a funeral pyre.

It’s a little bit too easy. There’s no sign of surveillance curses nearby, you only need to slide down on the wet tiles, jump up high, land in the mud and let yourself be swallowed by the darkness of the forest. You specifically picked your least conspicuous clothes to blend into your surroundings perfectly. And the cold and murky night will let you go safely. The leaves will conceal your tracks.

So many things are working in your favor tonight.

You know there’s no need to rush. You can only draw attention to yourself if you are running around, creating noise and disturbing the wildlife. You don’t even use a flashlight, you have to get used to the darkness, the full Moon will guide you with all her dazzling light. And after that, Tokyo will do the same, with its crowded streets and all its places to hide.

There’s a weird kind of tranquility in your heart. How the cold prickles your skin, the moisture in the air, the faint noise of the creatures dwelling under the leaves, up in the trees, singing, chirping, crawling. The scent of wet soil, the gentle caress of the wind…

Now, you feel free.

As you walk deeper and deeper into the woods, you feel lighter, you feel like you could fly away, like you could dance all the way towards your destination. You’re thinking about actually doing that, as if you got possessed by a strange spirit…

But the uneven, slippery ground makes you fall right into the mud. You squirmed a little, trying to get hold of a tree trunk and then…

Silence, dead silence.

Your heart sinks deep in your chest.

You know what it means. When nature falls silent. There’s…

There’s a threat nearby.

A primal instinct tells you to run.

There’s no way, there’s no fucking way that he already noticed you were gone.

Twigs whip at your skin as you’re running mindlessly. Wherever you end up, it will be fine, as long as you can enter the outskirts of the city. The cold night air stings your throat, your heaving breath leaves your mouth in puffy clouds. You feel the urge to cough, deep from your bone-dry lungs.

The ground beneath you turns soft and steep. You lose your poise, stumbling and rolling all the way down until you fall from a high clod of rain-washed soil. Your body collides with a cold, wet, yet incredibly hard and flat surface, fraying the skin on your palm and face. Your back and shoulders will be bruised by tomorrow, painting your body with black and blue spots. The pain ripples through your entire being, paralyzing you for a couple of moments.

As you slowly gathered your battered self from the ground with a grunt, you realize you landed on a road. It’s a good sign, you’re not so far from civilization. But instead of following the road, cutting through the forest is the wiser decision.

Your relief is short-lived, just like a may fly.

A sinister feeling takes hold on you. It makes you freeze, squeezing your insides. Like you’re sitting in the jaw of an eldritch beast. You slowly turn back to the direction of your fall.

The lights are flickering.

You grab on the guardrail for dear life. You try to fill your lungs with shaky breaths, your heart desperately beating against your ribcage. Your trembling knees barely keep you upright, yet nothing can make you move. You have been found, you’re defeated, there’s no point in running away from him. The injuries, the already forming bruises will only deplete your strength.

How could you fight him? You’re aware that if he wanted to, he could break your bones and twist your body at the joints with an arm behind his back.

How could you outrun him? He’s capable of summonning a swarm of curses before you even take a step.

How could you make war with him?

Three of the lamp lights were already out, you stared into the darkness, the boundless abyss right before your eyes. You can’t even force yourself to blink.

And when the lights came back on, he was just standing there. Without breaking a sweat. Your pulse feels non-existent.

What infuriated you even more was that he wasn’t wearing his gojo-kesa. The motherfucker even gave you a head start by changing into something comfortable before he came to fetch you. Or simply he noticed your absence later than you expected.

Whatever, both is bad news for you.

He doesn’t utter a single word, he merely walks towards you. Slowly cornering you. Feasting on the terror on your face. Meanwhile you can’t unravel what could possibly be going on in his mind. The only thing you notice is that those violet sparks in his eyes are so sharp they could cut yours out of their sockets.

Should you give up? Should you beg for forgiveness?

But then, an idea blooms inside your mind.

You don’t hide your fear, you let your body tremble freely, fingers desperately clinging onto the metal, with your shoulders hunched to protect your neck and your wide, frightened eyes stare back at him. Letting him believe that you won’t fight back. That he can take you back to the temple and throw you back into your cage.

And when his foot hits the bisector, you jump. Right into the nothingness behind your back.

You fall on leaves and broken twigs again. You roll and roll with such speed you can’t comprehend the growing distance. Not even having an idea of how far you’re from him. Small rocks, branches, hardened roots of trees, bones all cut, scratch and pierce you. But you endure it, you’ll undergo any torture if it meant you’ll be freed. Your only hope is that the adrenaline will deal with the pain.

Suddenly, you violently crash into a tree, the ridged texture imprints deeply into your stomach. Acid bursts from your throat. Your diaphragm didn’t avoid the hit either, breathing is not unlike Sisyphean task as you try to get your shaking limbs to stand. Your mind is disturbed by the lack of air and your desperate attempts at getting yourself together. You’re wheezing like a dog. You must look pathetic, you think.

It takes almost all of your mental strength to calm down and slowly breathe through your nose, your lungs finally opening. But Geto won’t let you recover, you hear the fallen leaves getting crushed under his feet. You take a few sharp, ragged breaths, like it’s the last drag of a cigarette before the train comes and then, you move.

You hide behind a thick pine tree, palms covering your mouth and nose. The lack of oxygen is just another frustrating hindrance to your successful escape plan. Dizziness fills your head like a thick fog and sucks the strength out of your shins, needing to lean against the trunk to keep yourself standing. You try to conceal your cursed energy with all your might. A tracker who’s untraceable is a useful pawn in the hands of the higher ups, this skill made you a cherished student back in the day. Back when everything was so… no, it’s only the nostalgia making you wistful, it wasn’t any better.

The rustling gets quieter, you wait until the sound eventually dies. An almost muted sigh of relief leaves your lips in a thick cloud, dancing in the cold air.

From the corner of your eye, a floating form cuts through the pale moonlight.

Looking closely at its shape, you realize what kind of curse it is. The beetle looking one that attacks instantly once it senses movement. You can’t believe it, you’re going to -

The curse drags itself into your aura, scanning your form that is fused with the pine. Every muscle is tensed, you’re stiff as a board, you suppress every reflex in your eye and empty chest. You’re just like a statue, a corpse, showing no signs of life. Only an agonizing scream echoes inside your skull. A scream that puts mental breakdowns to shame.

It’s like an eternity until the curse finally disappears from your sight.

You definitely look exhausted, your body is limp and heavy like lead. But you must keep going at all costs, even if you have no idea how many curses are sent after you. You walk around the mountain instead of going down like he’d expect it.

Slowly yet surely, you calm yourself down. You know that you’re still in his grasp, but you still have a chance to outsmart him. You go deeper and deeper, you’re near the heart of the forest now. The moonlight barely crawls through the leaves, it’s easier to navigate according to what you hear rather than to what you see. The surroundings are growing eerie, you ache for light and warmth. And the longing sucks a bit of spirit out of you.

Before you can start questioning yourself, the sound of running water fills your ears.

A narrow, yet fast running stream plowed through the forest. Though you were unsure of staying close to the stream, going through it and getting to the other side sounds like a smart idea. As you take a reluctant step, you realize the water is ice cold. And when you dive into it further, enduring the strong current, it’s not as shallow as you believed. You’re submerged all the way up to your thighs. At its deepest point, the stream hugs your waist. The cold makes your movements slow and rigid, your teeth clang together in a frenzy. The bottom is filled with smooth, flat pebbles, they make it easy to - 

You slip on the rounded, polished stones and fall into the stream. The freezing temperature makes your skin shrink, it prickles you like a thousand needles. Scared, you crawl around the bottom, trying to get a hold of something and emerge back to the surface. A sharp, burning pain wakes in your palm, tears streaming down your cheeks. You try to swallow your scream, but it wants to burst from your lungs, you grunt and whimper until you can bite down on your sweatshirt, letting the material muffle your shout. Your gaze fixates on your hand and even in the darkness of the night, you see blood oozing from the deep cut, from your own torn flesh. The urge to retch is strong.

You palm is plunged back into the cool water, in hope of easing the pain.

He calls out your name right behind you.

You crawl out of the water, running from him, just as before. It doesn't matter how many times you trip, fall, stumble. It doesn’t matter how your fresh wounds end up in the mud, you don’t have it in you care about the pain or the looming threat of an infection. You hear him trying to reason with you. You must come back home, you’re injured, you’re bleeding. He must take care of you.

Why are you running? Where could you go? Who’s going to help you recover?

No, you mustn’t let your determination crumble. But oh… it sounds so easy. Giving in to your hopelessness.

An evergreen bush becomes your shelter to collect yourself and check on your wound, which is aching from all the dirt and is still bleeding. Water is dripping from your hair, your clothes are soaked, makes it easier for the cold night air to bite into you, to shake the whole length of your body. Your fingers are hardly moving and have no strength in them. The adrenaline is starting to wear off. You feel alone, small, and vulnerable. You’re freezing, scarred and aching. All the things you see in the dark twist into creepy, threatening forms. Everything that surrounds you is suddenly dangerous. As a lonely spider crawls within your field of vision, you flinch. The world around you is evil and everything is after your flesh.

And the only person who can save you is the one you’re running away from.

What are you going to do now? Fight, flight, or freeze? Which instinct is going to win this time? Because comprehensible thoughts won’t work on you. Every little layer of a fully-fledged human with a conscience has been stripped from you. You left them scattered everywhere in the woods. You’re nothing more than a primordial shell of a being.

Ceremonial horns wake in the distance, soon followed by howling. They let the dogs out to hunt you down. Poor, little hare. Your own stupidity has woken up the beast.

Who is like unto the beast?

You defeat the paralyzing dread and decide on flight. You dash out from the bushes, but - Oh… your eye. Your soft doe eye. There’s something in it. And your tears have an oddly metallic taste on your tongue.

And power was given him over all kindreds, and tongues, and nations.

You wish you could see yourself from the outside, but you’re probably nowhere near as majestic as you think you are. Right now you feel like you’re the fastest, stealthiest creature who’s ever lived, even if your muscles are almost torn, weak, and tensed. This is the last crumb of your strength, this is your all.

And all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him.

You don’t dare to look back. You know he’s there. He’s so close, he’s orbiting around you like a moon does with its planet. As if all of this is a dance. A hunt is a dance with a coital rhythm. And mother nature is the audience to your deadly waltz.

And he doeth great wonders, so that he maketh fire come down from heaven on the earth in the sight of men.

He takes your hand in his. Gentle and kind. To not scare you any further. You snap like an electric current under his touch, but you break free and zigzag between the trees.

He grabs your waist. Forcefully. It scares you this time. You escape from his embrace before he can swallow you whole. But he might have bit your throat during the process, you feel something trailing down your collarbones. You hear your bones crack.

It was all a mistake. You are a mistake. But mistakes can be forgiven, right? He has forgiven you so many times, you can’t even think of a number.

You slide down on a slope, leaves stick to your clothes, and you drop onto a thick trunk of a fallen oak. Tensive pain ripples in your side. You should stand up and run, but you can’t move. You won’t move. What’s wrong with you? What kind of prey gives the fight up before its last breath? But you think about your frozen limbs, the pain in your palm, your back, your shoulder blades, everywhere. You think about home… you want to go home or be left here to die. But the thought of dying here, alone, makes your heart palpitate rapidly, like there’s not enough air to fill your lungs. Your breathing becomes desperate, panicked even. Your chest hurts, your ribcage is ready to break apart by your racing heartbeat. You press your palms against your head, clawing into your hair. Every little morsel of you is bursting into a tremor. The connection between your mind, your body and the world cease to exist. And that lovely, unlimited stretch of space inside your consciousness is shaken, it’s in utter chaos. Breaking into tiny little pieces, like glass, like porcelain. Tears and plucks like paper and fabric. Shrieks and wails, rejecting the only thing that makes all creatures on this plane of existence agitated over their own mortality.

You’re doomed.

Unconsciously, your limbs curl into the very same position you took when you saw the world for the first time, protecting your belly and face, making you seem small. Geto knows you only do that when you fear what might happen to you, despite being unaware of the kind of terror your brain had subjected you to. That’s why he approaches you slowly, making no sudden movements as he picks you up gently, like one would lift a porcelain figure from the ground. When you open your eyes, he had already settled you into his lap as the manta ray curse lifts the two of you up to mount the skies.

You have no idea if he hunted you down or saved you from your own demise.

What a defiant, ungrateful creature you are, you think. You tried so viciously to run away from your burden, and now you feel safe with him again, you dare clinging to him, you dare seek his warmth. The contradicting thoughts and desires torture you on the way back. There’s only one faint voice inside your head that’s capable of calming you down, able to keep your sanity intact…

You’re the lost sheep, and he’s the shepherd who searched all over the world to find you. And he’ll bring you back to the flock, and he’ll love you more than the rest of them.

Your false god. Your fallacious savior. Will he forgive you if you repent on your knees? Until they get bloody and bruised?

Back at the temple, he refuses to let you take even a step on your own. You weren’t born to run, to soil your soles with the ground that filthy monkeys walk on. You’re meant to be worshipped, to claim the whole world as yours beneath dainty, soft feet.

The warm lamplight and the comfort of your shared room helps you unwind. To shift back into a much more civilized, humanlike state. And as you practically glue yourself to the heater, you notice more dirt, more cuts, more blood marring your flesh than you expected.

When you take off your grimy sweatshirt, shoes, and socks, Geto is towering over you. There’s nothing imposing about him, he looks rather troubled as he sighs.

“What do I do with you?”

You roll your eyes. Oh, the good old rhetorical question. He has no idea if he should treat your wounds first, bathe you or break your leg just like the Gospel says.

“Come, let me take a look at your hand.”

You see your reflection in the mirror, and you’re horrified. Your right eye is bloodshot, a deep cut is splitting through your lower lip. You’re drenched in mud, already dried on your face along with some patches of wine dark blood. Together they seal the scraped skin on your cheek, makes your hair stick together into thick strands, accessorized with pine leaves and other remains from your little hike. You’re blistered and torn, you can barely recognize yourself.

It's pleasant to rinse your hands with warm water at the sink, but the sight makes your stomach twist. That nasty wound is too deep, it has to be sewn shut. A shiver races down on your spine when you see the first aid kit. He soaks a fresh gauze pad with wound solution and guides it towards the gaping cut with a pair of tweezers. The sting is horrible, the burning sensation rivals acid being poured straight into your flesh, it makes you grunt and hiss. He gives you a moment to breathe and collect yourself then he continues, despite your whimpers and twitching, tensed fingers. But the pain pales in comparison to when he swipes a new, clean pad inside your wound, cleaning it of all the filth. A pathetic cry erupts from your throat.

“Stop.” you sob, pulling your hand away to hug it close to your chest. You’re too distressed to realize that the temporary discomfort is necessary. But maybe this whole act is nothing but another one of his silly little games.

He places a finger under your eye, close to your lashes and collects your tears. The sight of you crying is somehow not worth of savoring to him. Before any little drop of your sorrow and regret can roll down your cheek like diamonds, he smears them, as if they could make your misery vanish. Well, they can’t. It frustrates you that you can’t let your feelings manifest because he’s ready to devour them just like his curses.

He doesn’t care that your face is caked in dirt, blood and tears, he lifts your chin up to kiss you. Deeply. You’re not reprimanded for not kissing him back.

You were right, he’s definitely toying with you. He makes it hurt before he soothes the ache. He creates a connection in your mind. Like you’re the dog of Pavlov, slowly conditioned to associate him with anything that makes the human heart fill with delight.

The tiles attract your attention much more than watching how the curved needle dives into your skin, how the thread closes the wound proficiently. Your features soften for a moment. Shoko would be so proud of him... Not for the reason he got so good at it though. He learnt to treat his wounds for the sole purpose of not letting a non-sorcerer doctor ever touch him.

He’s crazy. Vile. Petty. And delusional. It drives you crazy too.

But when your stitched hand is wrapped up in bandages, you seriously think about thanking him for putting up with you. For not being angry at you.

“Maybe this will make you reconsider your actions next time.” he remarks in a flat tone, concealing what’s going on in his mind.

You keep your gratitude to yourself.

But it’s not an easy task when he continues spoiling you, with so much care that it rivals motherly love. How he rinses all the grime out of your hair, how he gives you a moment of peace in a tub filled with plain, warm water, no bubbles or scented oils to irritate your scarred, sensitive skin. He dries you, brushes your hair and fills the whole bedroom with the calming notes of lavender and cedarwood coming from the incense burners. But he’s just so fixated on your injuries… every scratch, every surface level cut is thoroughly sanitized. It’s still humiliating, even when you’re the one sitting comfortably on the bed and he’s kneeling on the floor.

You’re afraid the extra pampering will twist your reasoning and resolve. That’s all part of the mind games he plays. You know he’ll go out on his way to prove that the world outside is cruel, that this is the only place where you’re safe, loved. In his proximity, under his hand.

And somewhere, deep down, you admit that he’s close to convincing you.

It makes you mad, you want to tear him to shreds, you want to weep for him just like Mary did under the cross. There’s still care, there’s still love under all those layers of burning hatred. What remains is twisted though, but it is there.

After you’re patched up, he glances up at you, thumb brushing your lip right next to that nasty cut. His other hand is resting where your thigh and knee meet. It’s a sign, a warning.

“Was it worth it, little lamb?” his tone is soothing and playful. So close to being outright mockery.

You reflect in silence, averting your gaze from him. All those scars and discolored skin, your disturbed mind, and the ache in your bones - you realize that your stupid little plan was futile. Totally unnecessary, it’s no achievement you can be proud of. At least if you’re not as masochistic as to pride yourself on your injuries. But the fact that he can recognize the parallels coats your answer with bile.

“No.”

Because you know that you can be so much more… There’re unlimited possibilities to a repented non-believer. And now you know that being his doubting Thomas has no benefits.

Maybe you did lose your faith in him, like the lamb in that story, to eventually realize how much you need him and vice versa. But you’re not satisfied with being a lost sheep. You just haven’t decided on your role in his Gospel yet. This is your call, you don’t know exactly which part of him calls out to you, but you’re satisfied with either of them. Whether it’s a prophet, a messiah, a beast, or the devil itself. The fallen Morningstar who used to be the favorite.

This can be your true Genesis.

“Go on, break my leg if you want to. There’s meaning in that, at least.” you dare echo his last words to Gojo, clean and low.

And your bones remain whole.

You’re relieved. Though you’re sick of his maneuvers with your mind, you’re aware their purpose is not to hurt you or punish you. These aching limbs of yours go limp as he crawls into bed next to you. The arm you were scared of coils around your waist. Viciously tight, much like a snake. The snake that corrupted Eve in the garden. The one that made her sin, got her cast out of paradise, the one that turned her whole world upside down. And maybe Eve did fall in love with the serpent, the worst creature that God had ever created. But even though he caused the fall of mankind, the serpent freed you from the clutches of a jealous, ungrateful god who denied knowledge from his own creations. Now you have the passion to rebel, to prove your creator wrong, to avenge his mistreatment. Give in to the temptation of your snake, believe his honeyed words, accept the fruit for a second time. Because you still remember the taste, oh so sweet and luscious. And with all the power he wields, you can win back your lost Eden or re-build it on earth, the home you’re both yearning for. It’s a promise between the two of you, silent, because words are not needed, only closure.

Something warm blooms inside your chest. Yes, that’s it! You can finally feel it now…

The very first ounce of belief.

[scftizuku]

Anti-Endhawks takes to debunk

"Endeavor is 46, and Hawks is 23; why do you ship them?"

That's all on personal preference, tbh. It's cool if you find the age gap to be uncomfortable. It's important to point out that both characters met when Hawks was a pro-hero (meaning he was already an adult when they first started working together as a duo). Endeavor himself did not know of Hawks when he was younger. If Endeavor knew Hawks as a child and the relationship was formed due to that, then I would also have an issue with the ship itself and understand this saying for argument purposes.

There is already a canon age gap between Gentle and La Brava, and no one talks about how the age gap is bothersome for them, with Gentle being in his early 30s and La Brava in her early 20s. I think from what I've been seeing that people just don't like Endeavor as a character (which is fair if that's the case. You don't have to love his character or anything). Still, it would be good if some antis were honest about using this take as a reason to shun the ship in general.

"Endeavor is still married to Rei; therefore, he is still connected to his family that they had."

Yes, Endeavor is a part of the Todoroki storyline since his perspective alongside Touya and Shoto's is very important for readers to pay attention to. His relationship with Rei Horikoshi has shown that it quickly changed despite their relationship starting out as wholesome and healthy in the early stages. We see very fast that the love that Rei and Endeavor once had turned sour once they began having children, and Endeavor tried to push his goal of having that perfect child with the ideal quirk. Now, whether the two reconcile and come back together is anyone's guess; I'm assuming that Horikoshi won't have Rei and Endeavor get back together, and they will most likely separate due to everything that has happened in their relationship and family in general.

This reasoning, out of all the anti-endhawk ones, is probably the most reasonable if I'm being honest, since the Todorokis are shown still having some connection back to each other. We are still determining how the aftermath of it all will play out.

For story purposes, he is very much connected to Rei since they both are responsible for saving Touya. But it's good to note that when it comes to Endhawk's relationship, they don't display the typical power imbalance that most people would expect from out-of-age gap ships. In fact, when it comes to their overall dynamic, both characters respect each other as equals and have this bickering/bantering dynamic, especially during their early interactions; they both care for one another, as seen in the panels below.

"Hawks would hate Endeavor if he knew his past."

This take has been a common argument circling around the fandom before Dabi broadcasts his reveal to the world. I have to say, I was curious what Hawk's thoughts would have been if he found out Endeavor's past, but after he explained that despite the wrongs Endeavor has done in his life, he still would support him and do his best to help him out whenever he needed him. To me, it showed how much he trusted him; he views Endeavor as the person who is trying to atone for everything he has done to those around him rather than the person he once was; and this trust that the two of them have extends into the final arc as well.

If there are other takes I should probably tackle; I'll make a separate thread for those. But I am also working on a Bakudeku version of this as well (so look forward to that one 😊❤️)