#and i don't have anything fleshed-out enough to post as a full fic so. here's what I got.

[lonepower]

(did someone say "random orphaned dialogue snippet that won't go anywhere"? ...no? ................ too bad.)

"How'd you pick ‘ND-5,’ anyway? It's just a random chunk out of the middle of your serial, right?"

"That is correct."

"So why that bit? Was it even your idea?"

He glances briefly up at her askance, then looks back to the pieces of his blaster, laid out neatly on the workbench next to her. "What do you think?" The sharpness in his tone tells her all she needs to know.

"Right..." she says, chewing her lip. Like literally everything else about ND's past, thinking too hard about it kinda makes her want to cry, or kick something, or both. Preferably both. "Well, would you ever want a new one? Something you came up with for yourself, now that you can?"

ND replies without a second's hesitation. "No."

It's not the same sort of flat refusal Kay'd gotten from him at first, the kind that had meant his shields were up and nothing she'd say was going to get them to come down; it's confident, definite, but not aggressive or defensive. She frowns at him, curious. 

"Why not?—If, if you don't mind me asking, I mean."

"When has me minding ever stopped you before?" Now he sounds amused. Kay ducks her head, conceding the point. "Say it," he says.

"Ugh, never, okay? Why's that even—"

ND sighs, which is of course entirely for her benefit. "I meant my name, Kay."

That throws her. She stares at him, inexplicably feeling heat creep up the back of her neck. "Uh... ND?"

"Hmm." He sets his reassembled blaster aside and tilts his head, eyeing her. "You don't hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"When you say it, it's an entirely different name than what Jaylen called me."

[stxrrgirlz]

Stepbro!Beomgyu x Stepsister!reader

Wc. 1.3k

A/n. I never fully finished kinktober from last year so I’m taking the time now to fully finish it. That means I’ll be posting 4 new fics before this month ends. I won’t be participating in kinktober this year buttttt I will be posting during it! I missed y’all <3333

1:34PM

Your apartment wasn't big enough for both of you; it already felt claustrophobic with just you and Beomgyu living in the place, but when he's constantly inviting friends over to stay the night, it gets even worse. You can't count on one hand how many nights you've walked out of your room with just an oversized shirt on and met with one of Beomgyu’s friends laying on the couch.

While you didn't mind his friends staying over every once in a while, the recurring visits from them made it hard to walk around your own home without the worry of flashing someone.

Sometimes you wanted to kick Beomgyu out of your apartment but he needed a place to stay during college, and your parents convinced you over many long phone calls to not put your stepbrother in a horrible situation like that. You weren't quite sure what to do about this problem, but one day when Yeonjun almost walked in on you showering, you decided to have a talk with him.

You sit on the couch in your living room with a bowl of cereal in your hand, slowly lifting up the spoon to your lips and crunching down on it. Hearing Beomgyu’s door open, you turn your head and speak with a mouth full of cereal.

“Come here,” you pat the seat next to you.

Bemogyu sits down next to you; he looks shy, and his hands are placed directly on his lap as if he's nervous of making contact with you. noticing his behavior, you raise an eyebrow and him.

Swallowing your cereal, you begin to speak in a confused voice.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, did you need anything?”

You lean in closer to him, putting the back of your hand against his forehead. A crimson blush develops on his cheeks as he stays perfectly still.

“Well yeah, but you're just acting weird.”

“Oh- sorry”

"No, it's fine; however, I wanted to talk to you about Yeonjun... or all your friends.”

You lean back from your previous position from in front of his face.

“I mean, it's nice to see you socializing, but there isn't enough space for them to stay over every day, not to mention they don't know how to knock.”

Beomgyu nods slowly, “Well, I'll invite them over less.”

“Thank you”

You nod with appreciation and focus on continuing to eat your (soggy) cereal.

Beomgyu takes a controller from the coffee table and turns on Mario Kart, handing you your own controller silently. Looking up from your lap and staring at his face that has already turned back to the screen. Moving slightly closer to him, legs touching so you can get a better view of the screen. Beomgyu freezes up before relaxing again as he starts the game.

The next few hours pass slowly, and you start growing sleepy. Beomgyu notices and turns off the console. Stretching out your arms before laying your head on his shoulder. Beomgyu adjusts himself so he's fully lying down and you're clinging onto him from the side. You can hear Beomgyus' heartbeat when you lay your head on his chest, adjusting your leg so it reaches across his body, making your ass perfectly positioned on his dick.

Hearing Beomgyu groan, you try to lay still so he thinks you're sleeping. His hand moves from your upper back down to your ass, groping the flesh in his veiny hands. Making a move, you slowly start to move your hips up and down, grinding on his sweatpants. Beomgyu doesn't say anything about your advances and instead reaches his hands into your pants from the backside and moves them down to your ankles with his hands. You kick off the rest of your pants without his help.

Beomgyu moves your pants to the side and dips his hand into your folds. Feeling your wetness, he quickly flips you onto your backside, with him hovering above you, making it easier to maneuver. Beomgyus’ hands skillfully work their way deeper into your cunt, collecting your slick on his hands on the way, slowly scissoring your cunt open, preparing you for his length.

Letting out a lengthy moan at the feeling of his fingers inside your gummy walls, you arch your back, pushing yourself into him. Beomgyu nuzzles his face into your neck and keeps a lethal pace with his hands. Before adding a third finger to your tight cunt, he pulls away from the crook of your neck and initiates a deep, passionate kiss. Your lips latching onto each other, almost as if they were made for each other. As Beomgyu pulled away from your lips, he quickened his pace, focusing all his attention onto your clitoral area as his thumb circled the sensitive part.

Your lips part to breathily moan out Beomgyus’ name and stutter out a warning before you cum. You feel your fluids dripping onto Bemogyus fingers. Beomgyu uses his clean hand to lift up your chin, making eye contact with you before sticking his fingers in his mouth and licking them clean.

Beomgyu pulls away from your body to pull down his own sweatpants. You sit up a little and you meet with Beomgyus bulge, the cum staining his boxers; you can tell he's been painfully hard for a while now. You use your hand to pull down his boxers, and his length jumps out at you. Beomgyu uses his hands to push you back down to lay comfortably on the couch again and uses his hand to grab his cock and guide it through your folds.

You wrap your hands around Beomgyus neck, letting out a short, breathy moan straight into his ear. You feel Beomgyu stretching you out. You feel every single vein, and even the slight curve at the tip, he filled you out so well, unlike any other guy who's tried to make you cum.

“fu-fuck you’re too tight, baby.” Beomgyu whispers gently into your ear.

”s’ too big,” you whine back in defense.

Beomgyu lifts up your hip to get a better angle and slowly starts moving in and out of your tight cunt. Your nails fly to the beomgyus back, gripping it tightly, leaving lasting marks from your tight grip. As you get used to beomgyus length, he continues to move, moving his mouth to your neck to suck and tease the area. Red and purple marks follow wherever his mouth goes from his roughness.

Beomgyu pulls back from your neck and makes eye contact with your lust-filled eyes. He can see the way your mouth contarts and moves to let out sounds, making it known how good he makes you feel. He reaches his hand down to your clitoral area to stmulate it, helping you get to your climax quicker. Beomgyu knows he's not going to last any longer in your cunt when he feels your cunt squeezing him tightly, giving him the signal you're close.

“m’ so close,” moaning out as you dig your nails tighter onto Beomgyus back.

“I know, baby, you’re- fuck, squeezing me so tight.”

Beomgyu quickens his pace, adjusting himself yet again to hit your G-spot.

You look down to see a gush of liquid coming out of your cunt, covering your face as Beomgyu pulls out, embarrassed that you squirt all over Beomgyus's bottom half. Beomgyu removes your hands from your face and holds eye contact with you as he lets himself come undone all over your stomach.

Beomgyu falls on top of your body, using his hands to fully cover you in his embrace, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, sounds of heavy breathing filling the room. You both lay there for a while, taking in that you just fucked your step-sibiling. Beomgyu gets up after a while, getting a cloth to clean you up with and moving you to his bed before laying down with you and holding you in his embrace.

[simpjaes]

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏❤︎ SIMPJAES WRITING TIPS ͏❤︎

hello! I realize how often I get asked to provide tips for new writers and here I am making a full post for it so that way I can always have something to refer people to! So, here's my personal tips with writing. they might not work for everyone, but these are all things I do or have done when starting out.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏❤︎ ACCESSIBILITY.

• something I always do, and literally beg other people to do: please put works over 1k under a read more bar. not just for the ease of scrolling for others, but because when you don't you end up forcing anyone and everyone to scroll your work. this is not being mindful as there are minors who may run across your fics and you should not be allowing it to be that available for them to witness. better yet, force them to scroll through it. • see the gradient text titling this post? this is cute, it's fun, pretty to look at, but keep in mind not everyone uses light mode like i do, they may not be able to see the darker parts of my text because of this. same goes the other way around. maintain visibility if you're trying to make your fics legible. not everyone has the best eyesight either, keep that in mind when making your posts and trying to make them pretty. • tag. your. fics. properly. in. the. content. section. of. your. work. do not censor your trigger words, be blatant and honest about what you are posting so that people do not find themselves shocked or upset if you happen to write darker fics. • also tag your fics properly within the tag area of your post. do not tag every member on your post if they aren't in the fic. it will more often than not annoy people rather than get them to read your work. additionally: i wouldn't tag hard hours under the smut tags unless it's actually relating to smut or is long enough to be considered a drabble. Otherwise, tag it under the hard hours tag for your fandom, not the common fic tags. • no, you don't need a banner or "cover" for your fic though I will say that it helps tremendously to include a visual alongside it. many gif makers here do not want their work involved with smut though, so be sure to make your own banners or gifs and do not use someone else's images without their permission.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏❤︎ IDEAS & OUTLINING

• How do you come up with new ideas? typically, for me at least, ideas come naturally or when I get some sort of inspiration and build off of it. Many times, inspiration comes from a lyric or a scene in a movie. Other times, it can come from something as cringy as a dream, or a funny conversation with friends. You can even base your fics off of your real life, just be careful with that if you're sharing them publicly, as with anything personal, it's not always fun to share with everyone. • how do you start to flesh out an idea? I have different methods but my first tip is to keep your notes app open on your phone and write down literally any and every idea possible. whether it's for a new fic idea, or one you're already working on. Often times just a few words is enough to remember your state of mind at the time and inspire you all over again when you get to it. fleshing it out is different. my primary way of doing this goes in this exact order: ➤͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏write a few paragraphs that would sum up the entire fic in a document. from start to finish, summarize it however you need to. it does NOT need to be perfect.➤͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏give it a title and a make a banner. ➤͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏i always write the fic synopsis at this point, it helps me stay on track and stick to the plot. if I go off track anyway, I just change the synopsis lmfao. ➤͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏take your previous paragraph of ideas and one sentence at a time, start outlining each portion.

ex paragraph: jake is always alone, and it's driving him mad. so mad that he seeks the company of a familiar face that would never, ever, expect to see him again. Strangely enough, your curiosity upon your ex best friend's ex boyfriend contacting you drives you to places you never thought you'd go (his house.)

➤͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏now ask yourself questions: why is jake alone? why is he going mad? what makes him seek company? why does he choose you? how does he contact you? what happens after he contacts you? what is the point of view? how do you as the reader feel when he contacts you? where does this lead?

all of that is the very start of an outline. from there you can start fleshing out scenes vs. filler in as much or as little detail as you like.

example of outline: ① ➤͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏scene of jake alone in his room wallowing in his thoughts. angst angst angst filler. talk about his dynamic with his ex girlfriend and why he's so lonely at this point. move forward to his relationship with reader and explain why she's on his mind too. ② ➤͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ jake texting you, blah blah blah, you give him the run around but he seems really desperate. not for like...sex or anything, he genuinely just seems lonely. you're curious despite, you know, being well aware that if your ex bestie found out, she'd beat the fuck out of you. cute flirting for like a few weeks via text. ③ ➤͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏three weeks pass, you and jake are kinda flirty via text but it always ends abruptly. he's....very sad, like a lost puppy. you might sort of have some sort of crush. explain reader's point of view, her dynamic with jake before vs. now. she ends up texting him after he dips on his previous flirting again, being blatant and forward with him about it. "why do you keep flirting then acting like im weird when i flirt back?" etc etc etc, you get the point. I'm not seriously going to sit here and flesh out an entire outline i made up just now and don't intend to ever write, sorry KJFHDSKJ

• Do i need an outline? hell no you don't. sometimes it's better to just take your initial idea and run with it. my best advice here is to do a first draft. free write, as in: write without fixing anything, go wherever your mind takes you, then when you're done for the day just leave it be and come back with fresh eyes. if you like where it's going, keep going. if you don't, boom, second draft.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏❤︎ WRITING PROCESS

• don't be hard on yourself. no one is looking at your fic but you right now. try any and all ideas, shift scenes around, change whatever you want. it doesn't matter if it's not what you promised. you are the writer. • you may notice that i rarely proof read my works, you can search for a beta/editor if you'd like. just make sure they know the time frame you'd like for your fic to be posted and set some boundaries so they don't end up insulting your work. for instance, in the past, i only allow editors to fix typos, sentence flow, and grammatical errors. i do not ever allow them to comment on plot changes, character changes, etc. • don't want an editor but also don't want your fic to be full of typos? the best I can offer is: every time you finish writing for the day/night and pick up on another day...re-read everything you previously wrote. not only does this help get you into the right mindset, you can catch typos and errors along the way. • not every fic needs research, sorry. If you're writing a smut fic and you intend to focus on smut, just let people know you may have incorrect information regarding whatever. for instance: i like religion kink because i hate religion. because I hate religion, i do not do research on it and use the knowledge i know and what i grew up with. I make that loud and clear to everyone. It's kind of bitchy and lazy though, not gonna lie. but again, if it's smut, people are there for the porn anyway, and not the ins and out of the career one of your characters has.

• TALK TO YOURSELF. Speak the dialogue out loud, yes, even the dirty talk. This is the best way to determine if something sounds awkward.

• this is more of a me thing but, avoid using "y/n" in dialogue. more often than not, this is where it gets very very cringe. In reality, you do not need "y/n" as an indicator that your name is being said or called. You can change that part from dialogue to "He/she/they call(s) your name." or "You hear your name in a broken voice as you swiftly turn, only to find no one there."

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏❤︎ MOTIVATION

• Motivation is hard and not every method works for me. Meaning, it probably won't work for everyone else either. What I do is: i write fics in my head before going to sleep. I listen to songs that remind me of the fic. I re-read feedback from previous fics. If you've not written one yet, the best move here is to discuss it with a trusted friend.

• do not allow numbers, notes, likes, anonymous messages, or any form of "popularity" force you to write something you're not in the mood to write. sometimes we just need a break, and it's okay to break promises. people want fics you loved writing, not the ones you suffered for to get through.

• IGNORE ENTITLEMENT. This will kill your motivation more than anything else imo, and it will fucking destroy your confidence.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏❤︎ HATE ON TUMBLR DOT COM

• first and foremost, block and ignore any and every hateful or entitled anonymous (or not) person in your inbox. I'm not joking, if you respond to them, you will have your friends defending you but at the end of the day, it does nothing but generate negativity and pity. I answer my hate from time to time too, but at the end of the day, it's more like a slap in the face to the hateful anons when you ignore them and continue to be happy. do not let them feel like they have power over your emotions or mood, even if they do. do NOT let them dictate what you want to write and do not be a people pleaser. you are doing enough already by making attempts to write. you don't owe anyone anything.

• relating to the last point, eventually you just grow numb to it. the bigger your blog grows, the more people will hate you for one reason or another. stay kind, try not to let it make you a miserable bitch like I was at one point. focus on the plethora of love you can and will receive.

• don't resent or send anons to other writers either. so what if their fic did more numbers? so what if they didn't follow you? so what? so what? being a writer on this site has a lot of down sides to it, and the writing community + all the shit that comes with it can really be exhausting. My best advice to you is to remember that this is tumblr. nothing more, nothing less. it's not the end of the world if someone dislikes you, and it's not the end of someone else's world if you dislike them. feeding into that energy ruins the entire environment for everyone.

That's all I have for now! Feel free to ask anything else, i'll do my best to answer and add it here! I am open to giving advice on designing and editing your banners btw, i'm not some bitch ass gatekeeper. i will go into more depth with all of this too, such as "how do i write a good synopsis?", "how do you know when your fic is finished?", or "how do i start the fic in a way that's interesting?" etc etc etc

[thelastofhyde]

the likeability paradox. ( teaser )

this fic has now been posted, read here !

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, that lives under bill and frank's roof says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.

warnings. enemies to lovers ig, slow burn (i have intentions to drag this out into several long oneshots that can be read separately), unrequited love (except you will never catch joel miller admitting he feels anything beyond grief, hunger and exhaustion), pining, sunshine!reader, grumpy!joel aka canon joel, kinda perv!joel (if you squint), implied queer!tess, undefined age gap (reader implied late-20s), canon violence, smut (oral- f receiving, fingering, praise, degradation, possessiveness, panty stealing, dirty talk, dubcon ig, hints at ass-play, discussions of a lacklustre sex-life pre-apocalypse). this is set prior to ellie!!

word count. 10k. ( predicted )

hyde’s input. was hoping to finish and post this today in celebration of pedge's bday, but uni assignments got in the way and here i am posting a teaser instead of the full fic :(

nsfw beneath the cut, 18+ only !! ( unedited )

his only saving grace is that he can't see you.

hearing your pretty whines, and hand-muffled moans, and heavy intakes of breath is enough to curse him for the rest of his waking days, condemned to wander the wastelands of earth knowing the noises you make on the brinks of pleasure, with a touch-starved man satiating his hunger for flesh and blood with the sugary sins of your soaked cunt.

burrowing deeper into you, his consciousness rips through the fog of his lust to curse out his perversions as the tip of his hooked nose bumps against the puckered entrance of your ass. it does nothing to stop him tearing his tongue away from your clit, flattened as he drags it over the expanse of your cunt, and over your taint and up the crack of your behind.

"n- ah," you can't deny him while sounding so eager for more, the tip of his tongue now circling your back entrance, mimicking the treatment previously given to your little pearl. "no, don't, not there."

next time, he thinks, we'll try that next time.

sights returned to his previous desires, he works to rip every sigh, and every whine, and every dirty little song you'll grace him with. the sound of whatever record tess has put on in the other room becomes a safety blanket, dousing you both in the warm protection of not being overheard.

and, then, he does it, he makes the ultimate mistake.

his eyes flicker to the left and he finds himself faced with the stove that sits within bill and frank's- and, by an extension he does not enjoy to remember, your- kitchen. there's little that's remarkable about the appliance, just your standard, everyday oven that he's sure you've spent countless hours cooking up those comforting meals he's come to anticipate each time tess tells him they're due a visit.

except, the oven door is made of glass.

glass which now paints the most pornographic masterpiece for no eyes but his own. you, with hands gripping the island's counter like your life depends on it, and the skirt of that goddamn dress he's envied all evening for the way it got to rest against the warmth of your thighs, and your head thrown back, curving your spine in a way that has him wondering about the other ways he'd be able to bend and break you beneath his touch. and then there's him, down on his knees like a devotee laying himself down to worship his goddess, face burrowed in the space between your legs, mouth devouring you from behind with the help of his hands, the same ones that had strangled a man less than a day before and reigned fire down on countless others for years, that now grip the meat of your thighs to pull you back onto him, fucking his tongue into your sopping heat.

the image will haunt him more than any man he's killed.

[not-freyja]

Linked Universe Big Bang 2023 Sing-up Sheet

I know I said this would be up by Sunday, but I figured no one would complain about being able to access it a few days early. The sign-up will be open from now until Saturday, November 11th. If anything in these forms make no sense to you, please do not hesitate to reach out.

Each form should take about 5-15 minutes depending on how detailed you want to get.

Author Sign-up:

Artist Sign-up:

Beta Reader Sign-up:

F.A.Q. under the cut:

What is the timeline again?

Here is the whole schedule post. But short version, sign-ups will close on November 11th, claims will be Saturday Nov. 18th and then everything will be posted on Saturday, January 27th.

What form do I fill out?

If you are going to write fic, click the author one. If you are going to make art, click the artist one. Beta readers, hit the Beta one. If you are going to be participating in more than one capacity, fill out a separate form for the separate ways you will participate. (EX: If you are going to write and also draw for someone else's fic, fill out both the artist and author forms).

Wait do you want my Tumblr or my email?

I want you to give me whatever method of contact information you have to give me. Tumblr, email, discord, whatever. Just give me at least one. My personal preference is tumblr, but I am not picky. I will work with you.

Why did you ask about potential archive warnings?

Because while I fully support the right of writers and artists to make art about whatever they damn well please, I don't want to match an author who is not comfortable with graphic violence with a fic that's just a beautiful gorey fight scene. This is not a moral judgement, I just want to respect everyone's boundaries and make sure we all have fun.

What are you going to do with the information I give you?

Your contact information will be given to your partner so that you guys can get to work on communicating and making beautiful fic/art. I will also use it to check in twice before posting to make sure everything is going well.

All other questions are to make sure the pairing / claims process goes as smoothly as possible for everyone.

How detailed do you want that fic summary?

That is frankly up to you. That blurb and working title is what I am going to be using to pitch your fic to the artists. After you two get in touch, then you can flesh out the details together. So if you think three words is enough to get an artist excited (EX: Ravio wielding Fi), then that will do. If you want to give a full 300 word book blurb, that's fine too.

What if I want to make fic for a different version of the Chain? Like Bonus Links or LinkedMaze?

You are one hundred percent more than welcome to do so! Just make sure that you include the fact that the fic is for a specific non-LU version of the boys in your summary when you fill out the form.

Wait! You forgot to tell us about X!

My bad! Send me a message, an ask, or reply to this post. Always happy to provide further clarification.

[darkpoisonouslove]

1, 2, 5, 7, 12, 19, 26, 33, 39 for yet another writing ask game (I tried to pace myself, believe it or not 🤪)

(Mhm, I can see that! XD)

yet another writing ask

1. Which of your fics would you keep the basic plot of but rewrite completely?

Why would you do this to me? Don't I already have enough WiPs on my plate? You know this is only ever going to end one way.

I'd say Prey on the Heart. I do like the descriptions of the setting and the worldbuilding but *pinches bridge of nose* Valtor is SO OOC, I'm in literal pain. I don't know what was going on through my head but oh, boy! Then again, it's been almost three years since then and my understanding of the characters has definitely improved plus my headcanon game has evolved too!... Now I feel the need to add that to the pile of WiPs. I. Am. Mad. at. You! 😤

I'm also definitely touching up the three chapters of Gifts Are Given To Be Taken if I ever get to writing the rest. And same for Have No Name for My Heart. That one is such a downer. 😅 I need to rework the tone completely.

2. Anything that you'd like to write but feel like you're unable to?

In general? Murder mysteries. I LOVE murder mysteries (though I'm somehow way better at identifying the red herring (as such) than the actual culprit)! But they require way too much research and that's literally the bane of my existence. So, uh, yeah... that Scream AU for Winx is probably not going to happen.

In particular I feel that I'm unable to write the Winx rewrite. Like, I want to! I have so many cool ideas that I'm excited about! But I lack the motivation and the sheer size of it scares me. Besides, there are so many rewrites out there that it feels like a waste of time to do that when I can be working on Griffin x Valtor (or a Griffin x Faragonda or Marion... or anyone really) fics, which are... mostly my niche (not to monopolize the ship but *looks at the Griffin x Valtor tag on AO3*).

5. What's a tag you never want to use for your works even when it applies?

I can't think of one? If I don't want something associated with my account, I just don't post it. But I guess, generally speaking, I wouldn't want to tag something if it's spoilers. AO3 luckily has the "creator chose not to use archive warnings" and you can write an additional tag to the same effect if it's a trope you don't want to tag rather than an archive warning.

7. Your favorite ao3 tag.

I was gonna say I didn't have one but I'm afraid that if my answer here isn't angst, you will hunt me for sport. XD You know I love my pain and tragedy.

12. If you write in more than one language, what's the difference?

I write in Bulgarian very rarely anymore. I think the last time was in the beginning of last year and I have only written down a few ideas since then. But the key difference I feel is that I have a much easier time describing things in Bulgarian because the language itself is more descriptive. It's possible that I simply understand it a lot better than English since it's my mother tongue but I have also analyzed some Bulgarian texts and their English translations and while translations can rarely capture the full spirit of the original, I still feel that the Bulgarian language just offers more when it comes to how descriptive words are. Idk if that makes sense.

Another one is that I have a much easier time with varying sentence structure in English. Though, that might be because I've paid special attention to that while I haven't practiced it in Bulgarian... at all.

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

I want you to know that I have to try so hard to restrain myself from saying at least five different things about this:

She slid a hand between her breasts to touch only flesh instead of her monad necklace that was usually nestled there. Its shine was replaced by the gold she’d threaded into the plunging neckline of her nightgown with her own powers, all on Valtor’s insistence it would bring out her eyes. Despite the darkness trying to creep over her form, a smile was curling her lips at how right he’d been.

A draft disturbed the room, the air moving as if with something shuddering.

Griffin whispered his name. Only once. Like it was some cursed, forbidden knowledge. The power it held was immeasurable – greater than any spell.

Her fingers dipped under her neckline to trace a path for him directly to her heart.

As if offended by its thundering, a lightning tore through the blanket of clouds enveloping the castle.

The flash of light revealed in the mirror a pair of glacial blue eyes, pale skin and maroon fabric that would blend together with her nightgown perfectly if not for the gold threads distinguishing where her form ended and his began.

The darkness surged over the room once again a moment later, greedy, great enough to swallow even him, making it look like she was a lonely island surrounded only by empty air and the hazy glow of her magic. Yet, even that omnipotent cover failed to hide him from her.

He was silent, motionless, not even a gasp of breath coming from him to make the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. The magic that had clung to her day and night had evaporated, leaving only a hollowness behind, a cold that made her shiver as if she’d been thrown out in the storm.

It didn’t matter.

She was dressed for him, in her favorite nightgown she hadn’t worn for anyone else – a tribute to him. She’d only needed to call his name once and he’d come running. He wasn’t leaving here until she was ready to let him go, until all the cards were on the table, everything revealed. No more distant voyeurism and half-lies, only naked truth.

26. What would you describe as OOC?

A behavior or action that isn't properly supported by the previously established characterization. For fics specifically, a character isn't OOC if the story took the time to take them from their canon self to the person that they are in the fic but there has to be a hint at least of why they are the way they are.

33. Give your writing a compliment.

You know, I'm starting to like my descriptions more and more! I'm learning to focus more on the vibes and that makes it easier to pinpoint which parts I need to describe. I was panicking about this one description I needed to do recently and then I ended up getting it almost perfect right away!

39. Wildest AU scenario you have written?

I answered this here.

[fandomsandfairytales]

I know it's a pretty old post, but if you're still doing it -- "Finrod finding out that humans (and dwarves) die and having a minor breakdown/existential crisis" for the unwritten fics game?

Thank you so much for sending in an ask for the unwritten fics game!! :D it's definitely not too late or too old of a post!

(Sorry I couldn't get to your ask for a few days, life's been busy.)

So, this was partially inspired by chapter 34 of a Silm fic called "The Harrowing" in which there is a discussion about mortality and Finrod is there. It's not centered around or focused on Finrod, but it made me think about what would happen when he figured out that the Secondborn die.

My initial thought was, "Well, I'm sure he'd be very upset about it," and then it spiraled into this vague outline of a fic, where he somehow finds out about it from Bëor and his immediate reaction is to have that minor breakdown/existential crisis. He would then recover enough to try to reassure Bëor that it's fine, he's fine, he just needs a little time adjusting to the idea.

But then he'd go semi-neurotic trying to make sure that everyone in this human community he's been bonding with stays alive. Stuff like making sure nobody stays outside in the cold for too long, or eats anything that might make them sick, or even falls over. Basically, he ends up treating them all like glass and Bëor observes this with mixed amusement and annoyance until the last straw happens (I haven't come up with what exactly that straw is, but probably Finrod freaking out over a human doing something completely innocuous that he thinks could be dangerous to them). So Bëor has an intervention and says to him something along the lines of, “dude. you can’t keep doing this. everyone’s starting to get fed up with you. all of us humans are going to die one day because of sickness or old age or whatever and it’s just gonna happen and you can’t do anything about it so take a chill pill.” And then Finrod has a full-on breakdown over it, sobbing and hugging him, and Bëor’s just there patting him on the back and wondering what he can say and finally, finally Finrod pulls himself together and Bëor’s like “better now? you know, this means we have to treasure the present” and Finrod goes “yeah, I can see that” with a watery laugh and then they get up and move on, and there are no more incidents of Finrod trying desperately to prevent any possible cause of death (besides what would be normal measures for humans to keep themselves safe).

The general mood of the fic would be humorous yet heartwarming. When a vague plot started to take shape, I was imagining that Finrod would keep freaking out over more and more ridiculous things, to the point that it would almost be a crack fic, but I decided I would really want to keep the emotional points. After all, it would have to start off in a rather emotional place, and it would make sense to end it there too; there would have to be some resolution.

If I do ever write it, I don't think it would be more than a oneshot, and I'm not sure how well I'd be able to balance the lightheartedness with the heaviness. But I'd like to give it a try at some point! Even if it never gets fully fleshed out, I can still hang onto the headcanon that this was Finrod's reaction to finding out about mortality. XD

Thank you again for the ask!

-

-

Link to my not-yet-written/unwritten fics here.

[the-sky-queen]

Am I the only one who wants to see more of splash and how that version of no-place works...? Like I want to see the charaters interact because to me no-place is the most interesting shatter-verse. Like bosscage doesn't really have much to work with/around. (At least to what I can think of. Only thing I was able to come up with was that bosscage is sorta like a dystopian version of the Canon world where most people are currently on an spaceship in space and the survivors on the earth are very few. I went somewhere with this AU but ran out of ideas for it and ended it abruptly and then failed to find any other ideas for bosscage) And for New Yoke, I think the actual show fleshed out the world enough. Whatever AU I create around New Yoke is just a happy-filled environment (for the most part, I do start with some torture and agony to a certain charater for them to be rescued and have a recovery arc but after that it's just happiness) Like I can't make myself give more suffering to theese versions anymore so I decided to leave it alone. And for the grim, it has potential due to all the crystals and emptiness, but I couldn't really figure anything out since in the show it looked really small compared to other shatterspaces, Am I the only one who felt that? I felt like the Grim was significantly smaller in size than any other shatterspace so I just couldn't come you with anything for it. HOWEVER, No place was an entirely different story. I really looked at this and said wait a damn minute. It really was what I am looking for, A huge uncolored canvas. It set up a pirate theme and that's it. So I came up with a lot of stuff for it and was even more amused when I searched and found a whole lot of different prompts, stuff I never even thought of about it. I read through a lot of prime au's containing all shatterverses but again... I really focused on No-place the most. Because again, I didn't really find anything new in bosscage prompts, and all New Yoke prompts were full of angst which are fun and very sad to read but again I really can bring myself to expand an AU on more greif given to these people. And I found no grim prompts, I never really specifically looked for them, I just never saw any scrolling through the sonic prime AU tag.

But holy hell was I invested in all and every No-place prompt I saw. It was very amazing how different yet so similar they all were. It can go to deities making their return to simple pirate adventure between a corny but absolutely lovable pirate version of th cast.

I found Splash through Gale from @son1c and I actually loved the concept and was very sad about there being only 2 posts about it.

Sometimes family members ask me why I never post any fics I write. It's because I know that this little monstrosity just contains at least 1 line that is my orginal idea and everything else is just a mix and mend between 186 different prompts that I definitely don't know who wrote and can't credit and can't find the posts Again because I probably found it after scrolling for 3 hours on the sonic prime AU tag. All my sonic fics are actually connected in some way, Meaning that every AU is canon in every other AU so it's basically I take the prompt idea and find a way to slap it in with a few small tweaks and changes to make it somehow work. I made a monstrosity that I am so proud of, which you will never see because I will never post it.

Now please,

I beg of thee. Make more of splash the hedgehog because I actually can't think of anything.

This made me smile! I'm so happy to hear that you love Splash, even though I haven't posted much about him. I'm planning on writing a story for him as part of my With Great Power Comes AU. I need to rewrite the first chapter and figure out the plot though. 😅

Anyway, you made me happy, so here's some various doodles of Splash! (Sketched these as soon as I could because you talking about Splash got me thinking and I had some ideas.)

Some close ups under the cut.

[senseandaccountability]

hiiiiiii i come bearing asks:

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

27. What is your most and least favorite part of writing?

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

I scramble together notes and inspiration and sometimes some theme and/or references I’d like to put in. This can be anything from pretty words (English is my second language so sometimes I remind myself of gorgeous words and deep-study them in a dictionary), chunks of poetry and various settings to pure characterisation notes. I have three reasons for writing fic. 

An embarrassing number of my stories originate from me disagreeing with other interpretations of the text and/or because I want to put into words what the subtext is SHOUTING at us (me). That’s the pompous academic in my brain - LOOK HERE AT ALL THE TEXTUAL EVIDENCE FOR MY INTERPRETATION LET ME SHOW YOU I AM RIGHT. My Cyberpunk fics for example, where I just used so many words to scream “this is not a Devoured by the Other narrative you are objectively wrong about that all of you listen up!”

A very strong feeling that something needs to be explored or fleshed out, because I like the thing but want MORE of it. 

Nobody else is writing this character/this pairing OR they’re not doing it the very specific way I want. Here I think my age shows. I don’t want to read about gorgeous, innocent people romancing other gorgeous (maybe less innocent) people, I want some grit, some ugliness, some maturity. I’m not 19, I don’t want to write about characters that are 19 and discover the world for the first time, I want to write about people re-discovering it or saying goodbye to it or trying to pick up the pieces of their own dreams.

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

Aside from the WIPs I’m posting, I’m nursing a handful of stories in my head that I want to write at some point. 

The fire in me now - about Rowan Tavish and Gale of Waterdeep and I just know that it’s kind of melancholic and mushy because they have soft weird intellectual man/prosaic tired secretly soft fighter woman dynamic, I guess? I really don't know but I'm low-key obsessed with how imperfect their relationship will be.

You are more than what you’ve lost, he tells her.

You are better than your worst mistakes, she tells him. 

Banalities to fill the void in the darkest, most lonely stretches of night, empty shells to be crammed full with meaning, with love. And maybe it’s not enough but it’s all they’ve got. 

27. What is your most and least favorite part of writing?

Best: Figuring out someone's voice and dynamic with other characters, piecing together that string of ideas to a whole. It’s extremely nice when it all comes together, and you read through it and go oh yeah, this is what I meant. 

Worst: Writing plot that isn’t immediately related to the characters. Ugh. I really just want to poke around in fictional people’s heads and whenever I get stuck, it’s because of plot reasons or because my fragmented character study bullshit isn’t making any sense unless I anchor it to some overarching structure that I have no energy to build. Sometimes I wish I was writing plays instead and could just insert minor notes about the setting. 

[bod-5arts]

Uuuuhm I posted another fic?

Very sad and angsty

Anyway!

I'm putting this here as well

My last breath for you

I heard the sounds of clashing reverberate through the halls.

It's not an unfamiliar sound yet this time I can't help but feel a grip at my lungs as I run towards it.

It can't end like this, I won't make it end like this.

Now above the sound of the fight I hear only my steps and the rumbling of my heart, God it's aching just at the thought of the sight I might have to witness.

But no, I shake my head.

No.

Not when I'm here.

Not until I live.

I feel it, I am closer, I can hear the panting, the grunting, even the sound of the metal going through the air, hopefully slashing only those particles and not flesh.

Finally the end of the hallway I find them.

And my terror couldn't have been more right.

Daniela, my Daniela, is on the floor.

And if living with the sister taught me something it means she won't get up or at least not before her predator hits, that's the rule of predator and prey.

Cassandra.

Why, why all this when sisterly love should've been alive in this household.

I see Cassandra swinging her sickle around for a bit, as if she's playing.

No she's not.

She's calibrating the hit.

No no no anything but this!

I feel the rush of blood in my veins, was I ever able to run this fast before? I doubt it.

God no I can already see the blade shining against the light, ready to fall on her.

Dani no, not you, I can't lose you.

"DANI NO!"

I hope I was fast enough.

All I see now is that Dani is looking at me, all her red hair cascading over me.

My love.

She's so full of scratches, and she must be weak, I must help, I must cure her I must-

"Don't move!"

There's panic in her gaze?

Did she get hit?!

Is Cassandra planning to hit again?!

I scan her gaze for answers, no, no

"Don't leave me!"

Me? Leave you?

I could never no, never ever.

You gave me so much and I'm stupid enough to still be unable to return it all.

My, even covered in blood you're still the most beautiful woman I've even seen.

Ow.

I think I'm starting to feel the hit.

I feel my hand crushing hers in a grip, maybe my body is just going on it's own.

God what is this warm feeling? Rain?

It can't be no...

I'm able to gain focus again.

Daniela, my dearest please don't cry, you're alive and it's all it matters to me.

Dani, Dani listen, please stop crying for a second, I miss your smile, I don't want to see you sad.

"Dani..."

God that's my voice? Really?

It's barely a whisper but the moment I let it out at least a spark gets back in her wonderful golden eyes.

She gets closer to hear.

Why can't I feel the energy to let it out now.

Damn it, I rehearsed it so many times and now I can't say it.

How ironic.

She has pulled my hand to her face.

If this was the final to one of her beloved books we would've cried together about it for days.

I guess I'll never get to know the aftermath of that.

Wait I feel a breath, I feel a breath in.

It's small, it's small I know, it's going to be like a blow on a candle.

I hope it will be that easy too.

She reads my gaze, squeezing my hand tight, now that I notice I can't even feel the pain anymore.

I smile at her and she tries to smile at me, head on my chest, ready to listen.

If I'm lucky enough I will say it correctly.

"Daniela... Te iubesc..."

[dubsxreader]

worship the king //.o1 // shigaraki tomura x female!reader

summary: after the soul crushing realization that you're not meant to be the Hero you've spent your life training to be, you hunt down the most indiscriminate killer you know: Dabi. his man-child of a leader being there only makes the task easier, right? too bad Shigaraki has a knack for seeing things in others they don't see themselves. wc: 3,312 playlist: here!

rated: M for dark and mature themes; future lewd tw: suicidal ideation (seriously don't read if you're in a bad mindset this probs won't help), depression, toxic thoughts, manipulation, the start of a v dependent, idolizing relationship ie "worship" in all definitions of the word haha. Shigs taking advantage of a mentally vulnerable hero basically; dead dove do not eat for that reason.

a/n: this is something I wrote almost year ago now, when I first fell head over heels for Shigs and really felt like bnha was saving me from insanity haha. I have 15 pages of notes for this fic, but for now, for the King's birthday, this is my thank you to him and a year of loving Shigaraki Tomura <3 also to the xreader community for being my gateway into every fandom that takes over my life haha. will be posted to ao3 later

You stand on a cracked, littered rooftop, sullenly looking over the calamity you figured would be destroying the lives of every day, happily unaware citizens tonight. A slight sigh of relief leaves your chewed-to-hell lips, hidden to your own addled mind but glaringly apparent to any of your fellow heroes who’d commented on your state of mind the past few months.

You appreciated their care, you really did—for all the surface level care it could give, that is. It wasn’t their fault they couldn’t understand. They were simply more Heroic than you, official capital and all. More driven, stronger, faster… But you’ve been doing the absolute best you can, and you were sure of that. Days–weeks months?–of harshly honest self speculation assured you of your failures and of the fact that, simply put, you weren’t cut out for shouldering multitudes of lives every time you stepped out your door. Heroism didn’t just end when you took off your costume; no, it was an ideology that should be ingrained into the soul of the costume wearer, and you’d come to the jarring conclusion that, after all your special training, you just weren’t up to snuff.

You couldn’t even save yourself from your own demons. How the hell were you supposed to save those more deserving of life if you couldn’t cope with your own shit?

A small, condescending snort leaves your nostrils as you observe the blue flames engulfing the area below you. Fucking worthless. What was the point, then? Hours of support Hero's work on your items, costume—wasted. The countless words of love and support from friends and family. Ha. Your eyes track the small movements of the current chaos’ perpetrators with a keenness you've found twisted comfort in recently. A familiar, all encompassing fixation gears up that brings you out of the cloud of self-doubt, hate, and deprecation that was so, so wrong to feel as a Pro-Hero in today’s society. In this bubble there's a solution, so it's okay. You let out a numbing breath.

Maybe you could give the Villains +1 morality in the eyes of whatever twisted being rested on their laurels, idly watching as you drive yourself insane.

A swift gust of wind knocks the empty cans and bottles from their peaceful resting places as you leave your perch, descending into the empty alley below to begin your last stand against yourself. Resolute and heavy steps echo in the widened, deserted streets of the city you vowed to protect—a small, still aware part of you thankful it’s so late at night that most would be sleeping. Your targets (saviors?) usually moved when they would make the most social impact, but you’d been tracking a certain member that didn’t seem to adhere to their strict schedule.

Whoever they were behind the obvious moniker, they seemed to kill liberally. It should be easy. You take a numbing breath.

The stench of burning flesh and ash is suddenly all too pungent, assaulting your senses enough to kick your mind into another, more logical plane and question how stupid you’re being. How disappointed everyone who knew you would be. Izuku and Hitoshi, especially, had been trying their hardest to devote extra time to you recently, you knew that—fuck, how selfish were you to bring their attention away from a goal they’d fought so hard to achieve?

The flames are smoldering char on concrete when you arrive at the end of another alleyway, just as dirty as the one you’d come from… But the incineration just seemed to have cleansed the way of its trash. You nearly sigh again in morbid relief when you see two men still standing there in the aftermath. You can see from behind that the man you’ve been tracking, Dabi, still has his left arm extended, as if relishing the memory of his flames destroying the ones he deemed unworthy.

Hands in your hero costume’s pockets, you steel yourself in your usual Hero emotions: indignation, conviction, disgust at the idea of them feeling they had a right to do anything going against the grain of the society you were indoctrinated into. You clear your throat with the last of your practiced confidence, bringing the sights of the two Villains to your own frame shadowed by the bright street lamp at your back.

“You two aren’t planning on getting away with this, are you?”

Your simple, deadpan drawl has both men scoffing to themselves and sharing a look of exasperation and annoyance. They clearly want nothing more than to be done with whatever the hell they were doing; your gaze sharpens in acknowledgment while their own take note of your hero costume. This is it. This is really it. You’ve done it. Is it really what you want?

Your eyes ice over, hardening to protect your vulnerabilities when they meet those of the second man’s own carmine flecks, so unflinching and so, so bored from behind his trademark hand.

Yeah. This is it.

Resignation freezing the rest of your visage and nothing left to say, you dash forward with simple physical speed, locking onto the Villain you recognize as the leader of the League of Villains himself. Sure, Dabi was a proven relentless killer, but you figure if you go after the leader himself there would be even less hesitation or time to think on either side. They were both reportedly unflinching, ruthless, uncaring and absolutely evil, but Shigaraki’s devilishness was practically beaten into you at this point. He was the obvious candidate, the oddness of his presence meaningless yet welcome at this point.

Your eyes never leave his as you take those last three lunging leaps, your arm cocked back in a hopeful show of some impressive power you might possess, in a display grand enough to paint yourself as a threat if not at the very least an annoyance.

Blue flames lick at the back of your costume. You’d somehow been faster than Dabi’s flames, which made no sense at all—you weren’t fast in any capacity if you were to judge yourself. It must’ve been a misfire. Lucky you’ve targeted the faster acting Villain.

Something distinctly odd flashes in his previously disinterested eye as you rush him, your Quirk barely powered yet still reflecting in his observation as you aim for the mask. Your own, in contradictory spite, slows as your mind races, brushing the hand enough to feel the inexplicitly soft and leathery texture, knocking it clean off the face of the man you’d targeted. Maybe it's the adrenaline, maybe it's the anticipation of the end, but you don’t feel anything near what you thought you’d feel when his living hand grazes your outstretched arm. If anything, it feels like an angry wasp had come at your elbow in some sort of misguided revenge attempt. Bearable.

Fucking livable.

You skid to a shaky stop feet behind them, your glare going to the small hole in your costume’s arm where he’d made the briefest of contact. The skin had only begun to crack and decay from a central point; nothing near the scale and intensity you’d been warned about by your superiors and peers. What the fuck gives?

A desperate rage threatens to erupt at the lack of damage. You feel cheated. Your eyes shift from the minimal damage to the apprehensive yet notably curious eyes of your chosen euthanasist. Was he just not taking you seriously? You didn’t blame him, but…

“I thought the League was the best of the best?” The sting in your arm is mockingly there and you scoff, barely hiding your indignation at his unfulfillment of the role you’d forced upon him. You take it and use it to fuel the crumbling foundation of your resolve, ashing it to the ground yourself and focus on the slightly slumped figure topped with white-blue hair.

His eyes are now magnetized and piercing, never wavering from your own, adding to your rage and confusion. Just what is he getting at, looking straight at you in the fucked up state you’re in and just–just fucking seeing–?! You aren’t looking for pity, fuck all if it's from the person you’ve deemed would have the balls you didn’t to end this shitty nightmare you live in. With a primal, anguished and utterly guttural scream you dash forward once more towards Shigaraki Tomura, hand erupting in a more accurate show of your true power.

Once again, he simply guides your attack away from him into empty space, this time with a deft shove of his index finger. Silent and calculating. You stumble on your feet as you land, ignoring the insulting sting, and turn to face them at a pace you know isn’t up to Hero standards but unable to even fake it anymore. Your eyes, though.

They fucking call to him.

How could he dust you? A Pro-Hero, coming at him alone, a deadly ally at his side, with what he knew from his research to be nowhere near their quirk’s power and potential?

Nevermind the look in your eyes he’d recognized immediately—this Hero was asking to be killed. Cracked lips twitch to grin at the situation. His mind works at full throttle to balance the possibilities.

“Heh…” The small breath leaves him, a smirk winning out and pulling at already taught skin, “You’re looking to die, aren’t you, Hero?”

Your brows furrow in… Fuck, you can’t identify your feelings at this point–they shouldn’t matter–they’d become obsolete the moment you took a swing at the supposedly impulsive and irrational Villain in charge. All you can feel is the overwhelming sense of weight, of pressure, of absolute and total CHAOS destroying any semblance of unity you’d pulled together to end this.

“What the fuck does that matter to you, Villain?!” Your glare is full of a rawness you can’t recognize, let alone mask, “Fucking fight me or die!”

His smirk, now fully on display, stretches to the smuggest of smiles as he takes his experimental first steps forward, casually retrieving the hit hand and placing it safely in his trench coat pocket. You weren’t immediately attacking him—hell, you weren’t even defending yourself! You’d only be more obvious if you’d delivered yourself to his doorstep tied in a bright, blood-red ribbon labeled “do what you want, I don’t care anymore!” It made his blood simmer, his skin itch in excitement at all the optional routes opened up before him.

Quickly, too quickly to deploy your defense {even if you wanted to}, he’s in your face and encircling your neck in a four fingered grasp. Your eyes vaguely mark Dabi looking on with a detached interest, and you can’t help but mirror his lack of understanding—your emotions and thoughts unfortunately too far past controllable to be hidden behind the usual Heroics.

“You could still serve a purpose, you know.”

Narrowed (e/c) eyes meet piercing, analytical rubies set to freeze and crumble enemies. You have no answer to that, none at all—if you hadn’t come across another anything while you’d been searching in earnest, how could it be tossed into your lap from the hands of a Villain? Your clear disbelief doesn’t deter him in the slightest. It only gives him the subtle signals he needs to ensure a dedicated new member of his team. This situation could only go well for him and the League, if he plays it right, and he’s thankful Dabi knows when to shut the hell up and take the back seat when he truly should.

He’s never seen Shigaraki’s version of recruitment before. After Dabi's climate destroying display, he could use a lesson.

On the edge though this Hero is, the line is thin and the touch needed is delicate and calculated.

“You can make a real difference in this rotten world,” Shigaraki slowly lowers his defensive arm and loosens his grip on your neck, conveying his intentions to calm you. He notices this strikes an especially sore nerve that you’re too unhinged to recognize. You’re taken over by your emotions, unable to distinguish that you’ve offered your weaknesses to your enemy on a silver platter. Disgusted rage he’s now certain is self-focused meets him, only bringing him a step closer to your frozen and highly panicked figure. His free fingers fidgets on the clammy skin of your neck, tapping a pattern across your throbbing pulse, expectant and soft while the other stays loosely, carefully, against your clavicle.

It's constant.

It's… calming?

No, it's fucking overwhelming and uncomfortable and— As if your body’s acting on the last vestiges of your studies, you struggle in his grasp and pull your dominate arm back, channeling all your sadness and panic you’d been unable to expel into the attack you hoped would just fucking end this fucking end this it’s done—

Another four fingered grip captures your wrist, directing your power away from anything important and only ruffling Dabi’s clothes as he watches on. You choke on a cry, near your mask’s end with Shigaraki’s unexpected patience. You’d been told this was nothing more than a spoiled, raging, calloused young man entirely unable to connect with any feelings other than his own selfish need to destroy all Heroes he came in contact with. The only conclusion your racing mind can come to is that he doesn’t even view you as a Hero worth destroying. Thick and torrid tears rush from your eyes, betraying your need to be recognized and being denied that luxury in your final moments.

“I can’t even get what I need from you fuckfaces—!” Your cry rings out, eyes shutting tightly, shaking with the force of your emotions finally finding the breaking point they need to crash through into the real world, “What the fuck can I do to make a fucking difference?!”

Shigaraki pauses to assess your sobbing. You’ve all but folded into yourself; you would’ve disintegrated against his hold on your neck if he hadn’t been paying attention. No… he sees you. He sees you. His fingered grip on your neck slides up to force your head to follow, meeting his sure gaze. You’re lost. You’re anxiously grasping at anything you can to stop the burning, itching need to destroy your own mind… And he gets that. He knows what it took to hook him tightly into his own mindset. He knows of seeing a seemingly impossible goal set before him, of feeling unworthy and needing to prove himself to his peers and himself. If anyone could reshape you... it would be him. If anyone were to reshape you... it should be him.

“It isn’t fair, is it…?” He starts slowly, voice dripping with cooing understanding, gauging your expressions and body, “You work so hard to be what others want you to be… And never feel enough, even when you put your all into it.” Your whole being shudders at his words, breaking down and melting into the pressure of your expectations for yourself. You choke on another messy sob, tears blinding you, snot nearly reaching your lips, a trail of drool unknowingly slipping from the corner of your grimacing lips.

“We’d never expect more than you can give, you know,” He all but whispers into your ear, his words echoing with staying power. You miss the tiniest bit of excitement he lets slip into his tone at the thought of corrupting a fairly strong Hero to his cause with mere psychological one-upmanship. The power over your entire existence is an intoxicating prize and he’s not about to let go of it if he can help it.

A sad cross between a whimper and a cry escapes you as you crumble even more into a hold you’d only come to for annihilation. Why wasn’t he killing you? Why weren’t you dead? You’d wanted to die, needed to just stop everything and just—just STOP, finally, just stop. He was a hardened criminal with no need for heroes, what the hell kind of use did he see in you? You still the tiniest bit. You just need a use, a tangible use, is that what you’ve been missing? A clear direction set before you by an overwhelmingly liberating, intelligent, capable force… Could he see it through all the absolute shit you covered yourself in?

A tentative spark lights the furthest parts of you as you finally meet his confident and knowing gaze. Fuck if you don’t feel seen for the first time in your life, finally seen and accepted for the absolute mess you see yourself as. The conflicting, philosophical doubts you’ve had about Heroism, and your own heroics in the existential race you call a life, find a peaceful place in Shigaraki Tomura’s vision.

It's an alien calm, a powerful sedative on your mind, leading you to melt into his look—telling him all he needed to know and more. The grin he sports widens and his eyes shift to give a silent command to Dabi, still (surprisingly) observing quietly, before changing your life indefinitely, “Follow me, little hero. You'll never be lost again.”

A deep, swirling purple warp gate you’d only seen in footage appears at the entrance to the alleyway.

The loose grip on your neck finally leaves completely, giving you ample room to escape up and out across the rooftops. You’re frozen in your battling thoughts at the suddenly very real decision in front of you.

You knew you weren’t good enough to be a Hero. You’d been struggling with the core beliefs on what the word even meant, if the world you’d been taught was even so black and white. Did you even want to die or did you just need someone to come and give you a purpose, some great refocusing direction? Someone to swoop in, recognize and acknowledge your pain before wiping it away and giving you something definite to live for? You knew you couldn’t make it as a Hero. You were nothing in that world. But maybe you could make that nothing existence, doomed to the weaker, better…?

Eyes nearly blinded before blinking down more streams of tears, you sniffle and take a tentative step towards the man looming tall over you, an umbrella shielding you from a brightness you couldn’t stand to be seen in. You harshly wipe your falling tears to watch Dabi walk swiftly into the portal, an unlit cigarette of some sort dangling from his patterned lips. Shigaraki steps to it much slower. He stops before he reaches it, twisting subtly to look at you from over his shoulder. He shouldn’t have to say anything more for you to follow, if his assumptions are correct—

They are.

Your first steps are slow but pick up speed quickly, feet nearly throwing you into his right side, at the mouth of the portal to a place described by your thoughts as no return. His eyes widen in delight, a manic grin following as he places the fingers of his left hand onto your head in a semblance of comfort. More than he ever got. His right arm wraps confidently around your waist, absurdly consoling to your rapidly evolving morals and needs.

It allows you to let it all go, though. It tells you someone more capable, more prepared is there. That he sees you and is keeping you alive because you’re useful to him. You can’t seem to care why when the overwhelming realization that such a powerful man saw you as you were, truly were, and still found a profound use for you in a world you were dying in takes a strong hold. You’re practically weightless as he guides you into the inky blackness of his caretaker’s portal, mind clicking into place and recognizing the distinct choice you’re making with a calm acceptance of this development in your life.

You were a useless hero. Perhaps this is your chance to prove you could make a difference to someone as a villain.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! :) hope you enjoyed~ happy birthday, Shigster! maann I wish he'd take me away ;w; drop of a hat, I'm gone lol. the ultimate escapism... yandere!Shigaraki! xD annyway, I hope you have a wonderful day~ <3

[prolestariwrites]

Are you still writing? I don't see you post as much stuff anymore.

I’m still here, alive and kicking and writing lol… I hope you don’t mind but I’m going to use this ask to give an update on me and what I’ve been doing.

The truth is, I write almost every single day. I have dozens of drafts and another dozen of nearly complete fics for different fandoms. I have some one shots that I never got around to publishing. I also have outlines for stories that I might or might not get around to doing. I have full fics that I’ve written in a discord server with my writing pals that are waiting for me to copy and paste into a document so I can edit and upload.

I’m going to go into my thoughts on these things, where I’m at, and what I’m working on under the cut. Maybe if you’re reading this you can help me piece it all together?

First I want to acknowledge that at least half of what I write, I do with my friend and writing partner @solynacea. We have novels of unpublished stuff that we’ve done just for fun that has never gotten published, and maybe never will. A lot of what I’ve written has been done with them, and many times we’re onto the next idea before editing and uploading and I think we’ve forgotten about half the stories we’ve written, lost into Google chat backlogs until one of us remembers something we can search to find it.

So if I’m doing all this writing, where is it? The truth I guess is that I’m still writing, but for a while I just haven’t been into publishing. And this isn’t going to be a sob story about not getting enough attention or credit, because I stopped looking at kudos and comments a long, long time ago. I like publishing my work because I like to know it’s somewhere where I can find it easily again. (My Google drive is a hot mess.) I like knowing that there is someone who read it and saved it to come back to again. If each of my fics has just that one person, I’m cool with it.

For me, writing is fun and publishing is work. I need to edit, I need to find visuals, I need to think of a title and write a summary and actually remember to update with new chapters. I need to be ready for other people to read it. So I’ve adapted this habit of writing without expecting to publish, and it’s helped me flourish.

But it’s also made me pretty inept at getting anything to the point where it can go on AO3. There is an expectation when publishing that things should be a bit polished. I’ve never been one to just throw whatever up unless I knew it would be finished, because I get the sense that people hate unfinished work. Am I wrong?

If you are asking about NnT, anon, I think we can agree that it’s unfortunately a bit dead. I do have one story to finish, The Dark Fate. I also have some outlines done, a bunch of completed or nearly (like just need one more chapter written) fics, some that were started and left halfway through.

But in general I feel like I’ve told the bulk of the stories I had for NnT. I don’t have much more left. Which really kind of sucks because it was the perfect place for a content creator. There were enough characters that you could interpret in a lot of ways, plenty of lore left undiscovered to flesh out, just fantasy enough to not get caught up in real-world locations or rules, but also not so big you get lost. Yet NnT is over and I’m not feeling the sequel. There’s just no inspiration.

I’m writing for a BNHA zine which is fun, and Kacchako is still one of my fave ships of all time. I have a story I’ve started about them that I can’t seem to get any gas on. The space though feels too big. I enjoy more of what other people do than what I can make myself. I do still want to write this fic though.

As for DMC, it was a nice place to hang my hat for a while, but I’m feeling like I’ve run out of things for it too. I wrote the things I wanted to say about Dante, Vergil, and Nero. I have a couple more chapters to do on The Wish and started writing a steampunk AU, but once those are done I’ll probably close the book, at least for a while. Writing in this fandom wasn’t at all what I expected coming from NnT, and the culture shock sort of zapped the inspiration for me, even though I’ve had a great time and met some great people. I also ended up liking the reboot more than the main games and finding anyone else in the same boat is like a needle in a haystack.

So what’s next? I’m on the hunt for inspiration. I’ve been catching up on Resident Evil and started writing for it. I’ve been editing an original work (supposed to be anyway, haha) and writing more original work with solynacea. I’ve tried my hand at the Witcher and looked into getting into other fandoms but nothing is striking my inspiration. Tried writing threads for a bit but it’s not my style. There are tons of things that I love, but it’s a whole other ballgame to have your own stories to tell outside of the original, and that’s what I’m waiting on.

I hope if you’ve read this far you can see that it’s not a lack of motivation or interest, just inspiration. I'm an author in need of a new home, so to speak. I’m not in a writing rut, and there are thousands and thousands of words unpublished that I’ve written over the past year since my publishing slowed down. I hope that RE can give me that push, and if it doesn’t, I’ll look for something else. Any ideas, anon?

In the meantime, I wonder, do you guys want rough or partially-finished stories though? Let me know. I can publish if you guys know what you’re getting into by reading it lol. And I don’t mind comments when people ask if I’ll ever finish xyz fic or asks like these that are about what I’m up to, so hit me up any time.

[thelovelyghostwriter]

KuraNeon Short Fic

Okay, this is one of my longer tumblr short fics, it’s 1000+ words. 

Rated M because of lemon. Pairing: Kurapika/Neon

This is not the full length of the fic, the full version will be completed and posted on AO3 when I have the time. 

Before anyone starts complaining about their age, Kurapika and Neon are born in the same year. In the current arc, Kurapika is technically 19 years old. I have had people complain about Neon being underaged (people deadass think she’s 12 to 16 tf), but then they go ahead and sexualise Kurapika because “he is an adult because he’s 19”. You can check it here. 

Anyway, it’s fiction. Don’t take it seriously. I will just block anyone who tries to start a drama over drawings and fanfics.   

Warning: sexual content, hate-sex, angry sex, angst, mentions of daddy issues

Here we go: 

Kurapika wanted to stop this... Whatever they were doing. Yet his reasoning flies out of the window whenever he sees Neon in a flattering night attire.

Here he was, shirtless, with the woman sitting on his lap. Her spaghetti-strapped blouse was pushed down, her breasts exposed to him.

"I told you not to tempt me," he said. He licked her nipple and bit it lightly. Neon let out a small groan.

Kurapika had attempted to tell her that this dirty affair they had was inappropriate and unbecoming of them. Yet, for the past week, Neon had been giving him subtle flirtations and wearing clothes that showed off her skin (as compared to the baggy ones she normally wears).

The last straw was her talking about his Scarlet Eyes... while fondling the chains on his hand.

No.

That had to stop. For one, she was teasing him. Secondly, she recently found out about his Kurta identity - she was pissing him off on purpose to get "punished".

That woman should know her place, objectifying his clan's eyes like that.

He placed small kisses on her neck, then back again to her breasts. She shivered - it felt good.

"Are you happy now? You spoiled girl," he muttered against her breath sternly. She yelped when he slapped her ass.

Huh? That's weird.

His hands got underneath her skirt. Fuck. This girl wasn't even wearing a pair of underwear. She really wanted to get hate-fucked. By him. Again.

His fingers found her sex, all dripping in her arousal for him.

"So good," she mewled. She quivered under his touch.

Of course, she was satisfied, but never happy. There was a difference.

He inserted another finger.

Neon had always been like him - an empty vessel. Perhaps, even lonelier than him.

"M-more!" she moaned, demanding to be satisfied.

"Always wanting to be pampered," he huffed. What a greedy girl.

A father who exploited her fortune-telling, for fame and power; in exchange, he'd buy her all the things she wanted. The endless indulgence of material goods that she filled her heart with, yet it can never be full.

Ever since the Lovely Ghostwriter was stolen from her, the one thing that made her useful to her father... It was gone.

"You can never be satisfied, Neon," he said.

"Yet, you still do this with me," she countered, playing with his blond hair. She gripped Kurapika's hair and looked at his now-reddened eyes. Those eyes were beautiful... that held so much wrath and danger.

She had loved them when they were on a set of casing...but to see them on a deranged man when he takes her... it was... strangely exciting.

Kurapika said nothing, only kissing her in response.

Shut the hell up - he thought. He didn't like when she played mind games while they were doing this.

The kiss tasted sweet - so much turmoil in him, that he wished that a kiss could wash it all away. Wash away all his painful memories.

She snaked her hand into his pants. He hissed at the contact. Fuck. He needed this.

She giggled at his reaction, seemingly pleased, but her eyes said otherwise. Her father no longer paid attention to her, and it was obvious that she was trying to replace this by letting her head bodyguard (who was the same age as her) fill her.

She inserted his penis into her, squealing. God, Kurapika disliked her high-pitched voice whenever she complained. Yet, the noise that she makes during sex was what rubbed his ego - pleading, squealing, mewling, moaning as he rammed into her.

He halted for a moment, to lay her back against the bed. Then slammed himself again. Neon screamed, then covered her mouth alarmingly. He was enraged, she could tell. She really got onto his nerves, with her callous comment.

That disgusting hobby of hers. Collecting dead body parts that reflected her lack of sympathy towards the dead. Again, to fill that empty husk of her beautiful body. To treat people like objects because people see her as a predictive tool. A mere object.

She was her father's cash cow, the mafioso's crystal ball, another name in Chrollo's book and now, Kurapika's personal sex doll.

He removed her mouth. He wanted to hear her. She bit her lip, attempting to be quiet as possible.

He knew this. He wrapped her arms around her lower back, giving a new angle to ride her further. She yelped, in both surprise and ecstasy.

"Slow... Down..." she pleaded, her fingernails digged his shoulders. He said nothing.

"Papa... Papa might - ah!- hear us," she reasoned to him.

But he did not listen.

"I think - ah fuck!- he already... He knows," he said.

It was an open secret around the Nostrade mansion. It was not far-fetched for the young pair, who were equally lonely, to get caught into some odd agreement. She did expect her father to have some sort of reaction, though?

Neon's eyes watered slightly. Whether it was due to her being upset with her father's nonchalance, or Kurapika's roughness - Kurapika was unsure.

Kurapika did help Light recover from their financial slump by redirecting their mafioso business into something else. Perhaps it was some sort of sick reward Kurapika has earned when he chose to help them.

He brushed away the mascara-stained tears from her face. "Stop crying," he commanded, and gave a deep thrust that caused her to yell.

He did know she was going through a tough issue. But it can never be compared to him, his loss. The eyes of his clan gouged out just for people like her to enjoy them as displays. He should be the one crying, but there were no more tears left for him to shed.

He then remembered her hobby - why he was here in the first place. He began to incorporate his resentful energy into the form of pulsating desire, pounding into her mercilessly.

"Give it to me..." she begged, holding him tightly while her toes curled.

Her whole body started to shake.

So close...

Just a little more...

Then he stopped.

Neon immediately glared at him. It was one of his punishments again. To give her all the pleasures into a peak then abruptly crashing it into such a non-climatic disaster.

He laid on her side, brushing her messy hair off her face. They were both sticky, perspiring from their intimacy.

"Don't cry," he comforted and kissed her forehead.

Or I will give you something real to cry about, flesh collector.

She nodded. "Good girl," he said. He stood up.

He gripped her thighs, dragging her until her lower body was out of the bed. "Turn around," he commanded, and she obeyed him.

"Wait..." she protested, looking back slightly, "I want to see your eyes while you-" He gripped her hair. The audacity of this girl to still treat his eyes like a commodity... but in her eyes, he is the same. Another man in her life that sees her as an instrument.

"No. Not tonight, Neon. Look in front," he instructed.

If I catch you looking back, you're going to get it - he thought while he inserted his dick inside her again.

"I- ah!" she heaved, "I - hah - hate you..."

She managed to blurt out. He frowned. He didn't like that, be it she truly meant it or it was out of not getting what she wanted.

Because he couldn't resent her. He disliked her attitude, sheltered personality, her hobby... and worst of all, how she makes him desire her.

But it was never hatred. That was a feeling meant for the Phantom Troupe. She wasn't special enough for that.

He found her clitoris and rubbed it, all swollen and wet from arousal.

He noticed how she opened her legs slightly further to give him better access. Such hatred, huh.

"Yet... You're here," he replied. All he got was a repetition of her breathless curses and whimpers.

“Just… mmph! Turn me around…” she mumbled in the midst of the coitus. 

“No-”

“P-please?”

No response. He only did her harder. 

“I’ll… do anything,” she said. She looked back, rebelling against his rule. She kissed him before he could scold her. Neon stared at the glowing eyes, completely bewitched by them. 

“Anything?” he questioned, and he withdrew himself out of her. 

“Yes, daddy, anything-” 

She pouted for an added-effect. She knew that was one of his weaknesses. Kurapika sighed. 

“Okay-”

It was going to be a long night: he wasn’t done with her yet.  

[A/N: I did not proofread this, so pardon the grammatical errors]

[salexectrian-heir]

the 2/2 time travel fic

happy 2/2! here is the first chapter of this fic idea i posted about a little while ago

First chapter below | ao3 link in notes

Akira had been dreading the conversation with Maruki.

Not because he was having second thoughts--no, Akira was steadfast in his resolve that this reality was a mistake. His resolution hadn’t come without a price, of course. His friends were being robbed of their dreams, their happiness no matter how false it was in nature...and Akira would have to bear the burden of knowing he was the one who ultimately was going to destroy it all. And even though the thieves and his rival were on board with its destruction, Akira knew that the decision had taken a piece of them with it. It had required a sacrifice from them all. And that ate Akira alive, knowing that they all had a taste of what could have--

No, Akira couldn't think like that. It would only make everything he had to do that much harder.

Somehow, out of all the betrayals he had experienced this year, Maruki’s was by far the most painful.

Maruki had held space for Akira when Akira had needed it most. Akira rarely entrusted others with his needs, having been burned too many times before this point to forge that kind of fragile, vulnerable, two-way connection with someone else. But Maruki had felt safe enough to confide in, and in turn made Akira feel seen, feel validated. Had respected Akira’s opinions and sought them out instead of admonishing him for sharing his perspective. Against his better judgement, Akira had opened his heart.

No adult in Akira’s life had ever done that for him before. So of course learning that Maruki had taken those secrets spoken in confidence, manipulated them, and thought he knew what would be best not only for him but the world…something snapped in Akira.

And now, sitting across from the former “counselor” turned Self-Appointed Savior, Akira battled his warring emotions into submission. Into the familiar blank mask he wore outside the Metaverse to hide his true disposition. The mask he thought he would never have had to wield against the one adult he thought he would have never needed to hide from.

From the only adult he thought he could finally trust.

The calling card tucked in the inner pocket of his jacket was burning a hole through its thin fabric. Each controlled breath Akira took as he listened to Maruki explain himself pressed the blistering deadweight a little closer to the skin of his chest. The frail, last line of defense he had that separated the world from that bleeding and bruised muscle.

And right now, if he didn’t get rid of the card within the next few seconds he was sure the scent of his burning flesh would suffocate them all.  

Maruki broke the lull that had settled between them first. His voice was gentle when he asked, “Are you sure you don't have any doubts, Kurusu-kun?”

Akira narrowed his eyes at the formality. They were past that. Way past that. “What do you mean, Maruki-sensei?” Akira responded sardonically.

The hand Maruki had wrapped around the mug of coffee Akira had made for him started a complicated beat against its porcelain surface as he studied Akira.  

“ Akira,” he amended and started again, his eyes softening into something almost sorrowful. “More accurately, I should really be be asking 'do you two gentlemen have any doubts',” Maurki paused and glanced over his shoulder towards the cafe entrance.

“You're there, aren't you Ake”--the door to Leblanc nearly shattered on its hinges with the force of which it was thrown open--“chi-kun!?” Maruki stuttered out, his face swiftly morphing from melancholic to bewildered in the span of a second as he openly gawked at the entryway.

Akira blinked once. Did a double take. Then blinked once more.

Because it wasn’t Akechi who had just stormed into Leblanc.

Or, it was but...

“You,” a man who looked like the splitting image of a twenty-something, utterly irate Goro Akechi spat, his face contorting into a feral grimace as he pointed directly at Maruki.

Akira had seen the younger version of Akechi make that exact expression only one time before in the bowels of Shido’s palace. It was not something anyone wanted to be on the receiving end of.

There was a beat of absolute silence.

And then chaos erupted.

This older version of Akechi with murderous intent seething in his eyes launched himself at Maruki, barreling full force into their booth like a bull after the counselor’s throat. Maruki made a very undignified squeak at the sudden assault and tried to put as much space between him and the rampaging Older Akechi by scrambling further into the seat. Kicking wildly at him to try and stop the halestorm of blows reigning down from the furious Akechi-lookalike. It did little to deter the older detective prince. If anything it made him even angrier.

Meanwhile Morgana, who had relocated from sitting next to Akira to perching behind him on top of the booth, was yowling at ear piercing decibels. His fur also was comically puffed up, making him appear two times his normal size as he whipped his head back and forth between the attempted murder happening before them and Akira.

Who was sitting there with his coffee mug halfway to his mouth, watching everything unfold in a sort of detached awe.

A moment later the door was ripped open a second time and everything got a whole lot weirder.

Because it still wasn’t Akechi.

Instead, a very frazzled looking twenty-something version of himself tumbled through the door. He was out of breath, as if he had sprinted all the way here from...where ever the fuck he had come from. This older version of himself took one panicked survey of the room and promptly leapt into the chaos, snagging the Older Akechi around the waist in an attempt to slow his assault.

This older version of Akechi was taller, and had a bit more mass than his older self, but his older doppelganger didn’t let that stop him. He braced one boot against the seat of the booth and dug his other heel in the floor, leveraging the angle and gravity, to yank the Older Akechi off of the therapist’s lower half.

At this point, Akira noted, Maruki had effectively shoved himself so far back that he was half on the table with his back pressed against the window, fingers clumsily looking for the latch that would open it. In his haste to avoid the older Akechi’s swiping gloved fists, he knocked over the potted plant on the window sill. Soil cascaded across the table along with the poor upended plant and broken fragments of its pot.

Sojiro was going to kill him.

I should really be more concerned about all of this, Akira idly thought, flicking away a tiny ceramic shard. But he found it was hard to feel anything right now, as what he was watching seemed so surreal. I wonder if this is what disassociating feels like.

For the third time that evening the door to Leblanc was forced open with an unforgiving smack that sounded off over the cries and screams from the fight. The wall was surely dented at this point from the abuse. Akira vaguely wondered if the door hinges were going to survive the night.

This time it was the Akechi he had been expecting. Eighteen year old Goro Akechi stood in the doorway, gaping in utter shock at the pandemonium unfolding before them. Akira could practically see the formulaic equations running through and swirling around Akechi’s head, as he processed what was happening.

The younger Akechi simply mouthed, “What the fuck.” And continued not to move.

Akira’s attention was drawn back to the weird three sided battle happening literally two feet in front of him when he heard a pained gasp.

“Goro--plea--,” the older version of Akira wheezed, collapsing onto the floor after a sharp elbow connected with his sternum, “p-please--stop.”

The older version of Goro Akechi did not, in fact, stop. He in fact, got worse.

“Get back here you PIECE OF SHIT,” he bellowed, successfully grabbing hold of Maruki’s leg just as the counselor had managed to get his head and shoulders out the window.

Another undignified squeak escaped Maruki as his body was forcefully pulled back into the booth with a very painful looking jerk.

“A-Akechi-ku--” Maruki started to plead, but his voice cut off in a gurgle when the older Akechi managed to get both of his gloved hands around his throat.

It was at that moment his older self resurfaced in the fight. Hooking his arms under the older Akechi’s armpits, he twisted Akechi’s arms back, breaking his hold around the counselor’s throat and heaved the detective off Maruki.

“No!” the pinned Akechi cried, scrambling for purchase on Maruki’s sweater as he was tipped backwards.

The sound of stitches ripping followed the men as they tumbled backwards out of the booth and into a couple of the barstools behind them, which crashed to the ground in their wake. Maruki braced himself with one hand on the table and his other on the back of the booth to prevent himself from tipping into the writhing body pile on the floor. His sweater was stretched out and torn, hanging loosely off his neck.

Akira’s phone, which had also been on the table, lit up and started to incessantly vibrate. A  stream of messages from Futaba were flooding in when Akira checked it. He elected to ignore those for now. Before flipping the screen down, Akira took note of the time.

23:58 PM.

Two more minutes until this shitshow of a day was over and the dawn of February Third would rise. Akira released a weary sigh and set his phone aside in favor of his now lukewarm coffee. God damn he wished he had something a little stronger than the Jamaican Blue Mountain brew he was sipping on to put up with all this bullshit.

Happy fucking Birthday to me, he thought as he raised his mug in mock cheers at the camera Futaba had installed in the corner of Leblanc’s seating area. Where he was one hundred percent certain she was watching in pure horror, given the messages he was still receiving making his phone vibrate and shimmy at his elbow.

Honestly after all this, Akira suspected nothing in this world could ever surprise him anymore.

“Aren’t you going to help?” Morgana’s voice cut through the static he hadn’t realized had been present in his ears.

From the floor, his older self was doing a much better job at dodging the older Akechi’s flying elbows with graceful dexterity, but Maruki somehow had strayed too close. He was now kneeling on the floor with his sweater once again in the older Akechi’s vice grip.

“He kind of deserves it,” Akira said flatly, setting down his mug.

Though Akira quickly changed his mind when Maruki started making gurgling noises again, which could only signify one thing.

The younger Akechi recovered from his stupefaction when he saw Akira move, and stepped in to assist. It required both Akira’s older self and the younger Akechi to hold back the raging older Akechi long enough for Akira to pull Maruki safely away. The older Akechi was then shoved against a wall, getting yelled at quite vehemently by his older self.

“Sorry about your sweater,” Akira said, after he turned away from the arguing dopplegangers.

Maurki plucked at the frayed neckline and chuckled a bit breathlessly. “It’s seen better days.”

Upon closer inspection, Maurki’s glasses were broken and sitting askew on his face. His lip also had been split at some point and was leaking a tiny trail of blood down his chin. Akira grabbed a bunch of napkins off the counter and held them out to Maruki, who accepted and thanked him with a slight bow of his head, pressing them to his mouth.

“Would someone kindly explain just what the fuck is going on,” the younger Akechi demanded in near hysterics (his Akechi, Akira’s mind unhelpfully supplied before Akira buried that thought deep down).

The older versions of themselves fell silent.

There was a deep sigh that sounded almost identical to the one Akira had made a few minutes ago.

“Let’s try this again,” Akira heard his voice say from across the room, “how about we all take a seat. Calmly.” There was a pregnant pause as his older self shot a pointed look at the Akechi who had been the source of the problems, and released him from the wall. “Like civil adults.”

“Fine,” the older Akechi said, adjusting the scarf around his neck and smoothing out the lapels of his rumpled grey peacoat before sliding into the booth, with his older self right behind.

Akira tugged on Maruki’s sleeve, gesturing to follow him into the seat across from their visitors. Akira went in first, sitting directly across from the older Akechi which left Maruki to sit opposite the other Akira.

It was probably safer for everyone this way.

The younger Akechi (his Akechi) elected to remain standing, leaning against the far counter with his arms crossed over his tan coat in an attempt to look imposing, but really he just looked uncomfortable in Akira’s opinion.

Once everyone had settled in, the older Akira turned to Maruki. A sad smile broke across his face as he said, softly, “Hello Takuto.”

Why hearing his voice say Maruki’s first name was the thing that finally made Akira realize just how absurd this whole situation was, that shocked Akira back into his body from the weird detached space he had been floating around in the past few minutes, Akira couldn’t tell you.

Panic clawed its way out of his chest and into his throat, making his breathing erratic and ragged. The calling card in his pocket now felt like molten metal encasing his chest. His mind was reeling, racing, splitting apart as it finally registered that the man sitting adjacent from him across the table looked Just. Like. Himself.

What the fuck? What the FUCK?? WHAT THE FUCK!?

Maruki looked between him and his older self. “Akira…can you please explain yourself?”

“Uhm, I have no idea what’s happening,” Akira managed to get out weakly, before realizing Maruki wasn’t speaking to him, but the older man sharing his face.

“I think it would make it easier if everyone referred to us by our surnames, and our younger selves by their given names, for clarity’s sake,” his older self said, glancing at Akira and then Goro standing by the counter. “Will that be a problem?”

“Yes,” Goro said testily.

“Get over it,” Akechi snapped at his younger self.

Goro’s eyes flared. “Why should I--”

“Because it's a trivial distinction and it doesn’t really matter,” Akechi spoke over him, flicking his eyes over to Maruki briefly, “not when we have more pressing issues to deal with. Stop being difficult.”

That’s kind of rich coming from you, Akira thought but did not say.

Goro huffed but didn’t push it any further, opting to glare balefully at himself. The tension rolling off of Goro was enough to make Akira squirm, even from the otherside of the room. Luckily Akechi remained unphased by the daggers being thrown in his direction.  

“To keep it simple and state the obvious, we are you. We travelled from the future of the reality this idiot,” Akechi gestured at Maruki, “ wants to impose upon the world. We’re here to make sure it never actualizes, as something evidently went very wrong when we attempted to do the same ten years ago.”

Morgana’s exclamation of “Ten years?!” overlapped with Akira’s yelp (Morgana had reflexively dug his claws into Akira) and Goro’s “What do you mean, ‘something went wrong’?”

“Yes ten years Mona, and I mean it exactly how it sounds,” Akechi said in a clipped tone, clearly not willing to explain himself further.

Akira sucked in a breath through his teeth as Morgana retracted the claws he embedded from his shoulder and mumbled an apology in his ear.

“Our memories of what happened on February Third are...not intact,” Kurusu offered, earning a scowl from Akechi. “The last thing I remember is entering the palace...then… waking up in the new reality. Same for him,” Kurusu nodded in the direction of his boothmate, whose scowl deepened.

Maruki cleared his throat. “How did you time tra--”

“We aren’t telling you shit, what we’ve said is all you needed to know,” Akechi snarled, “so shut up, read the damn calling card, and then get out.”

“If you lived in my reality for that long, surely you found it enjoyable Akechi-kun, you--”

“Don’t assume you know anything about me,” he growled, “and don’t make me repeat myself.”

“You are both aware of what will happen if this reality--your reality, is destroyed...,” Maruki said slowly, gaze switching between the older boys emphatically.

“It was never ours,” Akechi was quick to shoot back.

Kurusu nodded. “We are fully aware and...deemed travelling here to end it worth the consequence.”

“Kurusu…” Maruki said, a mortified expression dawning on his face. “I suspected Akechi-kun might have felt this way given the conditions of his existence...but you too?”

“Wait, I don’t follow,” Akira spoke up, unease settling heavily into his gut like lead stone as he watched the varying expressions on the faces before him. They all know something I don’t. “Conditions of his existence…?”

“He hasn’t told me yet,” Kurusu said, suddenly avoiding Akira’s eyes, instead turning to face Akechi. “That...complicates things.”

Both Akechi and Kurusu exchanged a look, then glanced at Goro.

“I take it you haven’t shared anything with Akira either,” Akechi asked Goro--who eyes darted over to Akira before shaking his ‘no’ . “I guess that answers our question if we landed in the right timeline,” Akechi muttered, then sat up straight, leveling a look directly at Akira.

Akira’s heart rate spiked under the weight of the familiar yet so foreign maroon tinted gaze, and he was struck once again by how breathtakingly beautiful Akechi Goro was. Taking the time to look at this older version of his rival, Akira noticed the years had been kind to him. His cheekbones had become more prominent, defining his face with sharper angles that his shorter hair style complimented. Even if it was still a little mussed from the earlier fight.

Akira swallowed thickly. Whatever Akechi was about to say, he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be good.

“What your esteemed counselor was most likely about to tell you before I”--he exhaled sharply--“lost my temper, was that in the true reality, we most likely died,” Akechi explained coolly, gesturing between himself and Goro on his right. “The only reason we’re here presumably is because it was your wish. And Maruki granted it.”

Something in Akira’s chest cracked painfully.

He desperately wanted Goro to meet his eyes, to look at him, to tell him it wasn’t true. That he escaped the night they fought in Shido’s palace . But he was still staring at his older self with an intensity that barred no distractions.

It couldn’t be true.

Akira had felt the warmth of Akechi’s body when they brushed shoulders on the subway, had watched as the clouds of his breath faded away into nothing in the cold January air when they loitered outside the Jazz Jin. Witnessed the blood rush to flush his face when Akira teased him over ridiculously sugary, overpriced drinks and soft music. Sensed the raw power in his presence when they would pull off a seamlessly synchronized attack in the metaverse together…

It couldn’t be… he couldn’t be...

Akira’s vision tunneled as he focused on his rival.

Goro brought his hand to his chin, falling into his typical thinking pose which Akira had always found endearing, but now was sending sharp pains through his chest. “I couldn’t find any conclusive evidence to support it, but given the gaps in my memory after my final fight with Akira, and Wakaba Isshiki and President Okumura’s suspicious reappearances…,” he trailed off with a shrug. “Occam’s razor.”

“The simplest explanation is often the correct one,” both Goro and Akechi said in tandem.

“Two of you.” Kurusu pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up into his fringe as he did, and muttered under his breath, “I have to deal with two of you for the next twenty-four hours.”

Akechi pinched Kurusu (who flinched) without breaking eye contact with Akira and continued on, “And then Maruki was going to bait you, Akira, into accepting his false paradise by dangling our life before you. Holding us hostage, essentially.”

“I wouldn’t have explained like that!” Maruki said defensively. “I was devastated when I learned what happened to you--err the two of you? That night in December.  I don’t mean to make it seem like I am holding you both hostage--”

“But you are, and you did. ”

“Will, this Maruki hasn’t done it yet,” Kurusu quietly corrected Akechi.

Akechi plowed on, ignoring Kurusu’s comment, voice raising with each word he spoke, “You stripped us of our agency, forced us to play pretend in a world where you erased and repurposed parts of ourselves to fit your mold of perfection!”

Maruki winced.

Akechi trembled, barely able to contain anger, “I’ve spent enough of my life being manipulated by the will of men who think they own me, own the world. I refuse to live a moment longer in a reality concocted by someone else. I refuse.” His gloved fist slammed down on the table, causing the half-full mugs of forgotten coffee to rattle and send little splatters of dark liquid onto its surface.

Kurusu was quick to place his left hand over Akechi’s fist, who recoiled under the touch.

Akira stiffened at the sight of a thin band of silver on Kurusu’s finger, glinting under the soft lights overhead.

He’s married... I’m married?

Akechi started to pull away but then stopped, exhaling sharply. Kurusu ran his thumb over Akechi’s knuckles and his gloved fingers finally relaxed under Kurusu’s palm, splaying onto the table. He let Kurusu pull their hands off and out of sight.

“And.. you agree with this Kurusu?” Maruki asked after a few seconds of silence.

Kurusu took a steadying breath, and answered. “I do. And I understand that it means that I will also cease to exist.” A small smirk played on his lips. “At least this version of me.”

Maruki slumped back in defeat, staring unblinkingly at the droplets of coffee on the table. He swallowed, his jaw working for a moment before he nodded to himself. “Well then, I must accept that those are your decisions.” He looked up. “However, you don’t speak fo--”

“I also refuse to accept this farce of a life,” Goro interrupted, as if he had been waiting for Maruki to call on him. He turned his glare fully onto the former counselor and lifted his chin defiantly, “I’ve made my decision, and nothing you or anyone else says will change my mind.”

“Akira?” Maruki’s voice sounded so small and so far away, despite being right next to him. Akira turned in his seat, meeting Maruki’s pleading eyes. “Do you feel the same?”

Akira’s heart twisted in on itself.

Did he feel the same?

Before he couldn’t feel anything but now… it was as if his body was making up for the lost time. He was feeling too many things all at once.

If he rejected the reality Maruki was offering...it would mean…condemning them all to death.

From the corner of his eye, Akira took in the strange trio’s expressions. They all were mirrors of each other, all displaying their own versions of unwavering resolve and grim determination that Akira had walked into this conversation with--before everything had fallen apart.

A gentle nudge against the back of his head coupled with soothing purrs grounded Akira enough to stop his mind from spiraling any further. It also reminded him that it wasn’t just these lives who had a say in the fate of reality.

“I do,” he echoed his older self, and reached into his jacket pocket. Fire licked at his fingers as he peeled off the calling card that had melded into his skin and tossed it onto the table in front of Maruki.

Finally free of its oppressive, burning weight Akira took his first full breath since he came down the stairs from his room. Its phantom pain lingered, the skin too hot and tender where the card had laid over his heart. Akira flexed his fingers over the spot, hoping the friction would ease the discomfort. It didn’t. So he shoved his hand into his pants pocket and focused on regulating his breathing.

“I thought out of all people, you would understand,” Maruki said in the same small voice. Gently, he picked up the card and turned it over. “I’ve heard your calling. I’ll be waiting in the palace, as promised.”

When he stood up no one moved to stop him.

He met each of their eyes one last time and said, “If you don’t show, I’ll take that to mean you’ve accepted my reality.”

“We’ll be there,” Kurusu said with a conviction Akira had never heard himself use before. “See you tomorrow.”

“Ah, today, actually,” Maruki said, checking his watch. A heartbreaking smile formed on his face. “It’s probably not my place to say it, but Happ--.”

“Don’t you dare. Get. Out,” Akechi hissed venomously.

When the door clicked shut and the chimes ceased their ringing from Maruki’s exit, a collective sigh of relief seemed to ripple through the group. Akira let himself fall back against the booth, and was low key amused when he watched his older self do almost the exact same thing. Akechi gingerly leaned back as well, tension bleeding out from his tense shoulders as he eased himself down aside Kurusu. Kurusu reached out a hand and hesitated before tucking a short lock of hair behind Akechi's ear.

Akechi turned to him and whispered, “I can’t believe...that it worked."

“Believe it,” Kurusu matched his volume, and suddenly Akira felt like he was intruding on a private moment as their gazes lingered a little too long on each other.

“Are you, we...” Akira began uncertainly, “...friends then? In the future?”

Akira watched himself blush in real time.

“Ah. About that,” Kurusu said, fiddling with a piece of fringe as his cheeks continued to darken.

Akechi lifted his left hand and started tugging off his glove, one finger at a time. “In a manner of speaking.”

Akira’s heart kicked into high gear. Oh my god.

On Akechi’s ring finger was a thin silver band. Identical to the one on Kurusu’s hand--that he was now holding up beside Akechi’s.

Goro was the first to react. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Oh get over yourself,” Akechi chided, “you can quit pretending like you never--ouch !”

A sudden violent exchange under the table had Akira heavily suspecting his older self had stomped on Akechi’s foot.

Akechi glared at Kurusu. Kurusu glared right back.

“Would it kill you to be nice to yourself?”

Akechi crossed his arms. “Yes.”

“Uh,” Akira croaked, drawing everyone’s attention, “can we talk about how this happened?”

“You both probably have lots of questions,” Kurusu said, “So let’s start at the beginning. Goro, you might want to sit down for this.”

[liyuesbian]

hahsddsf the headcanons are only in my head for now. I do write for another fandom but i wanna read more character backstories and lore before writing anything here (although I will eventually muster up the energy to actually write down a hand study for liyue). hopefully one day I will post things! so many characters are underrated and have nothing about them written except in ships 😔 (side note: does genshin fandom like headcanons lol? most of the writing I see in the character tags are either full fledged fics or x reader, since I think a lot of the char backstories are fleshed out enough that there isn't that much room for headcanons)

update on twitter: I think I fixed it lmao but yeah, the "x liked ___" really bothers me hsdjfsd I don't follow a lot of people because of it rip. going on twitter made me realize how customizable tumblr actually is shdfsd

!! two days until kokomi; the suspense is strong... imagine her and idk gorou playing chess in resistance downtime, and all the sangonomiya soldiers expect gorou's dog instincts would make him more competitive, but really gorou is the one doing it for fun; kokomi is the pretty grandmaster who plans her strategy to the T and is fiercely competitive (you are getting me on morally gray kokomi hype train and i'm here for it. she gives me the uwu pretty girl vibes but can and will kill you. there's nothing that a college au kokomi won't do to be top of her class, but that doesn't mean she can't look good while doing it)

manifesting ei and kokomi parallels, they really feel like two sides of the same coin huh

ahhh a hand study of liyue would be so so cool to read! will be awaiting any other hcs you create too :p

before i say my thoughts, i just wanna say that i am by no means a popular blog so not sure if i have the grounds to do an analysis on the genshin tumblr community from my small pool of posts haha. anyways, my musician!au (not a hc but ig they're similar enough ? since they're also not x reader ?) did pretty well for non x reader content imo, especially since i hadn't posted a lot before them and they were part of my first few written works. the inazuma one got quite a few notes but only bc it was posted during the big inazuma update. and yeah... most genshin headcanons on here are x reader stuff.. hmm your reasoning about the characters alr having so much detail to them makes sense but ig visibility of the post will depend on the kind of headcanons, how you write them, and your no. of followers as well? (also, presentation. i've learnt that presentation on tumblr does a world of good lol) i'm trying to think of my other fandoms in comparison to genshin's with hcs but i think they're abt the same tho i can't rly rmbr.. i haven't been invested in the general fanfic/writing space in so long until this blog so it might be a bit wack to compare it to stuff from 2016/17

yay! that's good to hear :))

!!! ahh ik !!! i can't wait! (will u be rolling for her?) AAH YES YES THAT SCENE IS PERFECT OMFG! HAHAH i am rooting for evil mastermind kokomi 🧠🧠 i don't usually do character story quests right off the bat but for our pink-haired war strategist, i might do it as soon as it drops

..........mystic... i think u're a genius. college!au kokomi?? i'm thinking of an x reader for this rn and it may follow smth along the lines of this manhwa - not sure if you've read/know it - called cheese in the trap! kokomi as the male lead who gave off a bad impression at the start etc. and secretly plans things to help his crush out (lowkey kinda creepy) AHHH BRAINROT. i haven't read it in years tho so i never finished reading it but this could be a thing 🤔

[hrodvitnon]

Heh, yeah, he probably didn't think Goji being that small would be a problem.

Alright, moving on-I have another little scenario cooked up: it regards Godzilla and his family needing to deal with all of the incarnations (minus Earth) that I mentioned in previous posts suddenly being teleported (along with those they cherish) to the Abraxasverse, and how they need to coexist with one another lest it ends up like this fic:

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12783256/1/Godzilla-Battle-of-the-Ten-Kings (Ignore the outcome that Heisei won)

I also have a pretty good idea how this might affect the routes (don't worry, I won't let you describe how you can't speculate yourself yet-I'll do it myself for this.)

In the Coexistence Route, there's going to be a lot of chaotic confusion regarding around 10 or so versions of Godzilla running around and possibly starting to rampage in response to being taken from their home dimensions; MV!Goji and his family have their hands full trying to stop/talk with the other Gojis to stop rampaging & explain where they are now. Showa might be the most reasonable and will likely help them out, especially with the likes of Kiryu Saga!Goji & GMK!Goji who will resist and try to fight back against those who they see as impostors until Showa & MonsterVerse Godzilla put them in their place and get them to listen. The 2000 twins might accept since they do have equal levels of sapience to Showa!Goji, it's the bigger Godzillas that might pose a problem-with Heisei & Final Wars probably getting into a large & intense fight if they ever met & cause massive collateral damage in the process-not to mention another version of Shin who wouldn't have the same personality or empathy as his Abraxasverse counterpart and will be hostile to anything and everyone around him-including his counterpart because he sees Abraxas!Shin as weak due to his empathy. The Titans & humanity will need to work together to corral and get Heisei, Final Wars, and 2016!Shin to stop and listen to reason (though 2016!Shin possibly will need to be frozen again)-and it might end with all Godzillas agreeing to stop fighting (on certain conditions) , but they need a place to live that is isolated enough to be at peace (GMK will be left out and probably be either killed or vanquished to the Hollow Earth for Kong to finish him off with his axe); with a version of Monster Island to be used as a new home for the Godzillas (with Minilla, Minya, & Godzilla Jr to accompany their respective fathers there). It would end with a wobbly, but peaceful Coexistence.

In the Genocide Route however, things will not go so well....

Because here-the Godzilla incarnations are teleported while MV!Goji is in the process of wiping out humanity-the Titans start to become frustrated & very wary of these other Gojis as they start to pick fights with each other and, whether accidently or not, kill more humans in the process. Of course, MV!Goji will quickly sense the presence of these other Godzillas and immediately try to attack them as a result of his hallucinations blinding his judgement and common sense-resulting in some of the Gojis (Heisei especially) having a bone to pick with him after the fact. It might all culminate in a final showdown after some warmup battles in (very ironically) Tokyo-where all the Gojis show up, destroy the city to get themselves ready-and start to battle one another for the right to be the one true King of the Monsters!(of course, this is actually just to get rid of the competition)

The Titans & MV!Goji's family then watch with bated breath as the 10 Kings duke it out and slowly start to permanently kill each other as the fighting and stakes get higher and higher-with Kiryu Saga!Goji being the first one to die before the others, 2016!Shin does some creepy stuff that might disturb his counterpart, the original 1954 Goji is also in the fight and gets beaten up a lot, and all the smaller Gojis are killed off before the night ends. The larger Godzillas start to unleash their true power as the fighting gets even more intense, a great many beam-lock wars are had-& then the slaughter begins-Shin ends up being the first to die as the other 3 Gojis gang up on him after he potshots them too much, and then, you will likely be surprised-Heisei is then offed. How so? Let me describe:

• Despite their respective powers-Final Wars and MV!Goji (if the hallucinations briefly go away) will recognize Heisei!Goji as having a lot of potential to kill either of them (my interpretation) and team up to take him down-resulting in a complete decapitation to permanently kill him (heh, how's that for irony?).

The former two are the last ones standing-and fight the last fight for their lives. Everyone watches in anxiety and Godzilla's family, despite what he has recently done, pray that he wins this last fight. At first, MV!Goji has the upper hand, having gone feral & finally stopped holding back, and is seemingly very close to killing his counterpart-only for him to reveal he was also holding back and turns the tables on the natural Godzilla, tossing him around-beating him senseless & utterly wrecking him. Everyone watches in understandable horror as Final Wars!Goji then begins to charge up his spines....and they flash crimson red as he then impossibly throws MV!Goji high up into the sky.

Having had enough, Godzilla's family rush to stop what was about to happen....but it's too late.

Final Wars!Goji unleashes his Burning G Spark Heat Ray into his counterpart (here he doesn't need Ozaki's boost to gain the ability), who initially tanks the attack-but it slowly becomes too much for his body to handle....and after a few seconds, he lets out one, final agonized roar before exploding into a fiery ball of light & chuncks of flesh. His family, and the Titans can only watch in silenced shock as their Godzilla bit the dust and was now gone forever......

Meanwhile, Final Wars Goji roars in victory before immediately going to the sea to rest after winning. The only ones happy with MV!Goji's demise is humanity, who sort-of praise Final Wars!Goji as a hero of sorts and slowly start to rebuild what Godzilla destroyed. On the Titan perspective, the other Titans are initially very hesitant to accept Final Wars Godzilla as their new Alpha/King, but after he demonstrates his abilities and power-they submit and look to him as the new ruler of Earth, the only ones who outright rejected his rule were Kong, Tiamat, Barbra, Dagon, Scylla, and Rodan-with the now deceased MV!Goji's family going into hiding in the Hollow Earth to grieve the death of their Godzilla.

Mothra is in complete anguish and despair after the death of her mate, Shin & Junior are in similar states and become depressed, Leo, Manda, & Keeta are mostly unaware of what's happening but do their best to comfort their peers since they can easily detect their sadness, but the one who was affected the most was Monster X, with Viv trying to deny the fact that Godzilla was gone, and San trying anything to comfort her. Kong visits every now and then with Jia to act as emotional support to the grieving family and generously lets them stay in the Hollow Earth as a temporary home until they recover enough to head to the surface.

Mothra heads to an isolated island to be alone after she justifiably rejects FW!Goji as her king, Shin & Junior go with her along with Leo and Manda, Keeta is taken back to his adoptive father, and Monster X starts to develop a bitter grudge against FW!Goji and wants revenge for MV!Goji's death; but even Viv'n'San know that trying to take on the one who killed the other Gojis wouldn't end well for them-so they teeth-clenchingly 'coexist' with FW!Goji until they find a way to get their revenge.....even if they themselves die or it would be for nothing.....

Just to inform you, I can understand if you don't like the Genocide branch-off scenario, so you can simply react to the Coexistence one if you like.

But overall, what do you think of the second long post that I wrote?

Yeaaaaaah, not a fan of the Genocide branch-off... plus I wasn't a fan of the whole Everyone Beats Up MV!Goji thing from previous asks, it's all kinda, well, sus.

...though I'd like to bring up something that Monster X themselves state in Abraxas Chapter 17: They can be good, but can also be a terrible (if necessary) evil, true to their namesake. In this instance, I'd picture them flatly rejecting FW!Goji out of rage and hate because he basically killed what Vivienne saw as a mentor/god, and this cat-faced bastard expects submission from them? Fuck that. He'll get in their face about it like, "I'm your king now. Kneel."

But Monster X just stares at him with the same cold hate they gave to MaNi before mauling and killing him. "KNEEL!" FW!Goji demands. Monster X doesn't even blink. "Even kings kneel before the executioner." FW!Goji scowls at them with fire in his eyes. "You better not be threatening me, you little freak. You saw how I put down that rabid animal you're being such a whiny bitch about."

"Oh no," Monster X says with thinly-veiled contempt, "Certainly not. Just making a historical observation. I'm the Executioner... and no king's reign lasts forever, Usurper." Then they have the balls to turn their back on him and move to the Hollow Earth, knowing that even if FW!Goji wants to throw hands he has no real reason to (unless he wants to be an asshole) and FW!Goji has some measure of reason. Implied Death Threat aside, they never explicitly challenged him and attacking them just for disagreeing with him (when MV!Goji left Kong alone after he refused to submit) will only make him look like a tyrant.

---

For the Coexistence Chaos, I wouldn't consider 2016!Shin to be actively hostile to everything around him; in his home film it's noted that "behaviorally it just moves," he's basically a confused animal that doesn't know what's going on and simply reacts (see also the lyrics to Who Will Know), and he only explicitly reacts with violence once he's met with violence (namely gaining his atomic breath after GBU-57s were dropped on him), so he'll be hostile purely out of self-defense.

Also, regarding the Genocide branch off, let's not forget 2016!Shin's 5th form (the army of small humanoid Shin Godzilla's literal seconds away from branching off from his tail); because 2016!Shin is constantly evolving in a way to combat the threats he faces, it's not out of the question that he'd just spawn the 5th forms so they can scurry off and go into hiding while the other 9 Gojis are ripping each other apart.