#sorry to my erasermight followers of the fic... its not happening this time

[phoenixkaizen]

for your rewrite of i want it that way, is there major changes to it? are you adding the missing chapters or something?

There is major changes to it! I’m not going to go into full detail but I will list some of them below. Which will be put in tags plus some. 

First major change: I’ve decided on which pairing I want for it and it’s going to be Erasermic. The idea is more fitting for Erasermight but I keep finding myself writing more and more for Erasermic. However, there still is a consistency here between the two. There is a major reason why I decided to go this route!

All Might did/does have a crush on Aizawa, leading to part of Endeavor’s motivation for wanting Aizawa so much. However, in this one, Aizawa did not feel the same way for him. (Though Aizawa had a hero crush on All Might in high school xD)

All Might actually had been with David Shield and together they have Melissa. Melissa is All Might’s biological child because. Dude. Seriously. Melissa is literally their love child. Can’t change my mind xD The two divorced/broke their bond when All Might decided to return to Japan to look for a successor. They still maintain a great relationship. 

Shouta had dated Shirakumo in high school. Shirakumo is Shouta’s first love in this. Hizashi never took his chance with Shouta because he was still grieving. Shouta still goes to Hizashi as his heat partner though and vice versa with Hizashi’s rut. Neither want to admit they have feelings for each other. IDIOTS. They are idiots in this. 

Omega Protection Laws/Alpha Laws have changed for this fic because I’m going to have a longer story line following Shouta and Endeavor, setting up for the League to come in. We all know I do Dabi as Touya Todoroki. That’s why. I need drama. Add more drama into an already drama filled idea. 

So remember how I mentioned that there is a major reason I choose to do Erasermic instead of AllEraserMic??? Oh yeah, beeecccauuuuse Toshinori starts to develop feelings for a certain someone with snowy white hair. This reason was what pushed me to do Erasermic. 

The League, or Shigaraki, doesn’t take Shouta’s memories in this one. 

---

However, I am still finishing up I Want It That Way, I just really want to rewrite it. I’m so angry with my work and the more ideas I got for it, I just got the urge to rewrite it. 

[demyrie]

I'm curious but why did you delete JAM? It was one of my favorite JxD fics and I never got to finish reading it.

ahhhh oh dear, yeah, that happened.

So, for everyone arriving, I wrote a fic called Just Another Mission for the Jak and Daxter game series, and Jak/Daxter pairing. Yes, the green haired elf protag with the fuzzy orange thing, which btw used to be a human and was a human in fic. I think I started it when I was maybe 14 (yikes omg) and a few years ago, I deleted it, and I don’t delete fics.

Rant and personal history ahead, but tldr; i deleted this particular fic because:

1) I became more and more uncomfortable with the way I’d treated certain characters without giving them respect or resolution (throwing around things like domestic abuse while being too young to properly understand What I Was Doing or How to Answer Very Triggered Friends Who Had the Misfortune of Reading This I’m So Goddamn Sorry, as well as falling into that Not Like Other Girls slash fan ditch of treating female characters like shit/obstacles to the main pairing WHICH IS JUST ******) as well as personally uncomfortable portrayals of obsession and taking advantage of people that turn my stomach to this day (see reason 4)

2) i got way in over my head with my own writing/style which was so obtuse and self-indulgent that I felt a great amount of shame over it, including the attention it had gotten, and the way it went to my head and turned me into an egotistic little shit. I was an asshole peacock and I regret it. There was a break where I got waylaid before the final confrontation in the fic (see reason 4, also a very bad time to get held up in any narrative) and when I returned to the story, i nearly cried because it was such a mess and I didn’t know what I was saying anymore. Finishing it was a struggle and I even remember one JnD fan friend being like “hey this chapter seemed really curt??? short?? not like you” and I was like YEAH THATS NOT ME ANYMORE god i hope

3) there was a sort of ... anti-JxD surge in my little pool from people I really respected and it made me think i was doing something wrong even just remembering it, so I cut off that memory.

4) it coincided with two ugly relationships in my life that marred it, and I just wanted it gone for my own mental health.

So anon, I’m very sorry that you never got to finish it. I had good intentions in mind and gave them a happy ending where they realized they loved each other, even if the journey there was difficult. 

It both touched me and broke a piece of my heart when someone came to me years ago and asked me why I had deleted it, saying the story had given them the courage to come out as gay to their family. In that moment, overwhelmed with how ProblematicTM the whole story was, I was really struck with just ... how subjective our world experience is, and how so many things can mean so many different things to every single soul and how terrifyingly VALID peoples experiences are, no matter how they come by them. We’re all so unique and convoluted, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure -- and one man’s trigger is another man’s key to Becoming. But no matter how inspiring, I couldn’t bring myself to repost it. 

Hopefully this will be the only fic i ever delete with relish. Jak and Daxter will always be a good memory for me, regardless. Thanks for the ask, anon.

(even more) personal stuff below the cut. tw for stalking, harassment, manipulation and emotional abuse.

So.

Im a firm believer in stories living beyond their authors (something that JK rowling doesnt seem to understand iykwim). I don’t normally delete past works, because while I wrote them, I also know that they’ve outgrown me as most narratives do: people are absolutely allowed to enjoy what they want to or need to, not just because I think said thing is reflective of my current work or jives with my current stage of life. 

However, JAM was a particular Thing that Had to Go.

The timeline is hella fuzzy to me because I’ve blocked a lot of it out, but I was coming out of middle school and struggling with my mental health. On the real life side, I was stuck in a situation with a close friend of mine who was very fixated on us being in a relationship and the pining was loud enough to hear from the other side of the country. Wounded people pleaser that I was, I flipped (exhaustingly) back and forth between “i dont like you like that” and “but I want you to be happy so what if I tried liking you like that?” and there was massive amounts of hidden hurt and resentment and tension and abandonment complex activation and just ... a strangling of anything that made our friendship good for either of us. 

Also she was a she. So. Yannoe, gay is difficult.

This definitely burnt me out on the “best friends pining” trope and is probably legit the ONLY reason I’m not equally in the erasermic and erasermight camp haha. That trope feels claustrophobic and draining to me, so I leave it for others to enjoy.

It also coincided with a married 45yo adult man luring me into a “platonic, ecstatic, boundary-breaking, you-are-my-beautiful-young-muse, words cannot express how much I love you” creative type relationship that inevitably turned possessive, domineering and manipulative. Within the bounds of the Renaissance Faire community, I thought he was a safe person and he was not, and his constant reassurance that I wasn’t like other women my age was absolutely hypnotizing to a undeveloped soul who really, really wanted to be special.

We traded poetry and tarot card readings over email. He bought me manga and shared stories about his time overseas and in the service. He made me props to go with my renaissance faire character and showed me where to find cheap leather so I could piece things together myself.

He also stalked me and owned me for the better part of a year and I only realized it once he started harassing a dear friend of mine overseas, whom I was visiting, about a package that he’d sent, which apparently he’d covered in original poetry to let me know how much he loved me But Not In a Hetero or Sexual Way Bro, so of course he didn’t want it to get lost in the postal system. So what is he going to do? Note my friend twice a day asking if its arrived until she inevitably, tearfully spills that this guy is stressing her out and who is he anyway?

My horrible secret was out, which only sounded horrible when I explained it to someone else. I realized this man was trying to follow me wherever i went and I got so fucking angry that he was messing with my friend that I had to stop it.

(He called me a cunt when I broke it off with him on the phone in the dark on the floor of my bedroom in the middle of the night so my parents wouldn’t hear, then sobbed and said he was sorry. I was so dissociated from the rush of anger and helplessness that it took for me to actually MAKE the call that all I could do was wiggle my foot and watch it in the reflection of the mirror on the back of my door, and think maybe I was a cunt but I wasn’t his cunt anymore. So there. 

Afterward I slammed my forehead into the mirror a few times to make sure I’d actually done it and it wasn’t a dream.)

During all of this, I was writing this stupid fic. I think. Honestly, I don’t fucking know, but I can’t think of it without thinking of him and how i was devoured.

The stress of hiding this “totally wonderful but NORMAL PEOPLE DONT UNDERSTAND WHAT WE HAVE!!!!” grooming shit from my parents was gutting me alive, and I was so far gone RE: worthiness/autonomy that I didn’t even consider why I BOTHERED diffusing his petulant accusations over notes on deviantArt again and again as he baited me into shit just to explode over how I didn’t love him and I figured out another way to soothe his engorged and tarry ego without explicitly lying that I loved him too. 

He made me regret my silver tongue and way with words as I used it to defend myself again and again, and crushed my love of writing. I would pace the neighborhood for almost an hour several times a week, claiming I was ‘exercising’ but really trying to understand why i felt so trapped, or where the lines between love and hate lay, or why I wanted to cry all the time, as i low key tried to get hit by a car just to force something to change in my life and jolt me out of his smothering, needy nightmare of constant texting and emails and notes. I couldn’t fucking flinch without him knowing about it, and asking me if I was okay. For this reason, I react very poorly to people fretting over me at length, and loudly. I get angry and feel violated, or just pinned to the floor by someone Performing their love on me with no real regard for my health.

This whole time, I was escaping into fandom. It probably saved my life, in one way or another, because I found friends who supported me and made me laugh in the JnD sphere. Especially the friend whose distress caused me to snap and realize This Couldn’t Continue.

This terrible man was the first one outside of my friend group that I showed my writing to, the first adult as well. It was on the dark side even then, but he said it was wonderful and amazing. He teased me for being stuck up in my authors notes on JAM (one of the reasons I’m just getting over ... talking ...) but said it inspired him to start writing as well. He used that writing to imagine hokey sprawling stories of him being a hot rod racer and me being his sexy girlfriend, Very Totally in Love. Why Couldn’t We have Just Met in a Different Lifetime??? not that its a relevant question for my young 16yo friend lol just something dreamers wonder lol lol here why don’t you take this traditional irish engagement ring aka claddagh i bought for you, lie to your parents and say I bought one for everyone in our renfaire group, and turn it toward your heart, to imply that you’re in love, so that I can keep your heart safe for you until you find a boyfriend?

FUCKER YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKER ok I’m done. Fuck.

JAM was a project of mine that spanned a year or two and is intrinsically tangled in those very bad relationships and very bad lessons. I deleted it because I needed to, for purely personal reasons beyond the fact that it was generally bombastic, over-long, tone-deaf and dealt with very serious issues poorly. Due to these experiences, you won’t catch me in a hot minute writing either best-friends-pining or heavy jealousy/possessiveness fic, but everyone else? Go crazy just tag your shit.

so. anyway. isn’t subjectivity actually terrifying? You never know what something can mean to someone else. So just ask, maybe.

Damn, son. Some fics you just can’t repost.

[longlivejasongrace]

the luck i've had can make a good man turn bad

i meant to make a more fleshed out companion piece to my erasermight fic halley’s comet with alternative universe scenes or more reunions but i never came around to finish it so i’m just gonna post what i had here because i want it to see the light of day, i actually quite liked what i had so far.

if you dont feel like reading the original story, it’s an au where yagi and aizawa met in the first workplace experience aizawa had while they both were in high school.

before.

“Ah, Aizawa!”

Shōta flinched and turned around. The 1-B class had moved to the training grounds to hold a practical exercise with the two top students of Yūei and now one of them was jogging towards him. Shōta looked at him, his eyes inevitably following the movement of blond bangs swinging from side to side.

“Yagi.”

It was…. cute.

“I didn’t know you were in this class!” The way his smile broadened when he caught up to him felt like a bludgeon to the face. “How’ve you been? I didn’t hear from you since---”

“Oooh, does Aizawa have a private tutor for today’s assignment?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yamada---”

“Oh, hi Yamada!” Yagi slightly bowed his head at the loud underclassman. “Thank you again for inviting me to your radio show!”

Any trace of sarcasm in Yamada Hizashi’s face was wiped away by the honest enthusiasm in that voice. Shōta saw how his best friend started to stand on his tiptoes, his center of gravity shifting towards Yagi.

“Ah! I’m so thankful you can appear on my humble attempt at journalism!”

Shōta  frowned. “You call hero gossip ‘journalism’?”

“Aizawa! So mean! It’s not gossip!”

“You always talk about your so called ‘sources’ but I have yet to--”

A soft chuckle made them both look at Yagi. His blue eyes crinckled at the edges and Shōta could see for the very first time how his eyelashes were the same color of his hair. Shōta closed his mouth so fast it made him wince.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to laugh at you! It’s just that--," he tilted his head. “You really make a great pair.”

They blinked almost in synch but while Yamada laughed in his outdoors level yet again, Shōta lowered his head, trying to hide his flaming cheeks behind his hair.

“Oh, right! You met at field training, right? Did Aizawa behave?”

He frowned. “You are the problem child out of the two of us, Yamada.”

“Aizawa, buddy, you flatter me but you do have a nasty mouth of your own.”

“It’s not nasty if I just state the truth.”

Yagi’s head jumped from one face to the other, like he was following a very close tennis match.

“I’m sorry to say no one wants your truth, dude.”

“Aizawa was a great help, really!” Yagi moved his hands in front of him, like he was trying to physically disperse their worries. “Even if his wording was a bit… eh.”

Shōta glared at him on instinct and Yagi scratched his cheek.

“Even Yagi noticed! Were you mean to him, Aizawa? That’s so not cool.”

“I wasn’t,”  Shōta crossed his arms and tried very hard not to look like a sulking child. “Plus, I learned a lot from my guide," Yagi perked up, his eyebrows lifting in anticipation. Shōta felt his face heating up again.

He knew that--- Yamada knew. His annoying best friend had gotten better at reading him and he was sure he was pale enough for him to notice his blush. If Shōta didn’t say what he knew they were expecting, they would just tease him until he gave in. He would probably feel even more embarrassed and end up in an awkward position. It would be better if he made it quick, painless.

Like ripping off a band-aid.

Shōta blinked. “And Yagi, too.”

That earned him a pleased smile and a soft flush colouring still-round cheeks. In the heartbeat before Yamada started cooing at him, Shōta thought it was worth it.

“Does Aizawa have---”

“Hey, Yagi!” They turned their heads towards the voice and were met by a menacing scowl. “Get your ass over here, we have to start the demonstration.”

“Ah, sorry, Todoroki!" He turned back, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “Aizawa, could you stay after class? There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Uh--”

“Hurry the fuck up!”

“Coming!”

They saw him jog to the front of the training field where Todoroki waited for him with his hands on his pockets. Shōta blinked. Did he---?

“Did you just get asked out?”

He inhaled. “If you say anything more I swear to god, Yamada, I’ll fill your locker to the brim with cockroaches.”

“Ew! Aizawa, you’re awful!”

The sun was high on the sky, and the nearby trees in the courtyard casted leaves-shaped shadows on Yagi’s face. The bell for lunch break had already rang and the soft buzz of chatter seemed to blanket them in an almost ridiculous amount of normalcy. Here, in his gray school jacket and not in those ridiculous primary colors of his hero outfit, Yagi Toshinori looked exactly 18 years old. A semester away from graduating, but very much a high school boy.

It made Shōta’s pulse quicken.

“So, what did you want to talk about that required this amount of dramatics?”

Yagi’s shoulders fell. “Dramatics?”

“You know, asking me to stay after class, meeting up by the side of the school building,” Shōta shrugged, willing his voice to stay in its usual monotone. “It’s kinda-- too much.”

A pretty red dyed Yagi’s cheeks. “That wasn’t my intention! I just didn’t want to make a big fuss about it, I know how you hate attention.”

“Unnecessary attention,” he corrected. Shōta huffed, moving a few strands of hair from his eyes. “And, Yagi, this probably had the opposite effect.”

He blinked.

“It did?”

“I’m positive, yeah.”

Yagi put a hand -big, with long fingers and thin white scars along the side of it- over his forehead and eyes and groaned.

“I just-- I wanted to ask you about your internship and if you were going to apply to the same place as in the workplace experience.”

Shōta lifted an eyebrow. “Why do you want to know?”

“I really liked pairing up in patrol with you,” Yagi let his hand fall until it was resting against the back of his neck. “I think we make a good team, and I like your perspective on battles.”

Shōta felt something warm expand from the center of his chest. His bones felt light, like they were made out of cotton candy.

“Oh.”

“Ah, but that doesn’t mean I want to force you to apply wherever I’m working! You can make any decision you want, of course!”

Shōta looked at him, at his rosy cheeks and sky blue eyes. At the way a few rays of sunlight had managed to reach his hair between the thick leaves, making a golden halo for the rising star.

He swallowed.

“I won’t be applying to the same hero office.” His voice was a whisper and he gritted his teeth at the way Yagi’s expression fell, how he seemed to wilt under his rejection. “Like I said, I learnt a lot from my guide and--,” he cleared his throat. “From you, Yagi. But that agency was too high profile for me, and I want to be able to work in more--- underground environments.”

He lowered his gaze.

“Ah, I see.”

There was something off about his tone. It was too subdued. It didn’t go with the boldness of his smile or the determination of his eyes. Shōta resisted the urge to look up.

It felt like something bigger had happened, bigger than just talking about a course. A divergence in the road, a clean cut. A crash of principles.

Shōta bit his lip until it became numb, shielded by his hair.

“Well, sorry about taking up your time, Aizawa.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll see you around, okay?”

But before he could respond, Yagi had left.

after.

Toshinori had been looking. Not as closely as he would have liked, not as openly either, but he had. That was how he could recognize him so quickly, even though his hair was longer and his scarf obscured most of his face. He grinded his teeth together to stop himself from saying his name out loud.

Aizawa Shōta restrained the unconscious villain with his capture weapon, tying him up to a lighting post.

Toshinori spared a heartbeat to look at his back, his figure framed by the soft glow of the street lamp. Then he wrestled the mutant user who had a shock absorption quirk to the ground, effectively burying him in the concrete so only his legs stuck out, flailing.

“Thank you, fellow hero!”

Eraserhead turned around and Toshinori had to restrain the shiver that wanted to follow the line of his spine. His eyes weren’t red but they bored into him like he was trying to dissect him by gaze alone.

Oh.

“If I knew you were at the scene I wouldn’t have come.”

Oh.

“Well, I am very glad you came to help! That villain’s quirk was proving to be quite annoying!”

Aizawa looked at the rest of the villain gang who were passed out in different parts of the street, some hanging from street lamps and others doubled over garbage cans.

“You say that but at most it probably delayed you by just a few seconds,” he hid his hands in his pockets. “Didn’t it, Mister Number 1 Hero?”

Toshinori wanted to pull at his bangs in frustration. He laughed instead.

“But my friend! A second can be vital in a fight where you are outnumbered!” He stretched his smile and saw him narrow his eyes. “Particularly something as dangerous as heat vision, if you hadn’t intervened the damages to the nearby buildings would have been greater.”

He didn’t reply to that, but knowing his underclassman that was probably the best response he could get. Toshinori started looking for something he could use as a rope to hold the members of the gang together while they waited for the police force to come get them.

But a faint rustling made him look up. Eraserhead was already on top of a lighting post, making his exit.

“You’re leaving?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you need me to hold your hand until the cops arrive?”

“Shouldn’t you stay to give your account of the attack so they can make their report?”

“I don’t need that, I’m not big on getting my name on police files.”

“But I didn’t subdue them alone.”

Eraserhead shrugged. “You can take the credit for all I care.”

“I don’t take credit for other people’s work.”

They both blinked. Toshinori unclenched his fists, wondering with a pang of apprehension if he had let his uneasiness leak into his posture. Aizawa’s eyes surveyed every line in his expression, but they weren’t glowing red.

They never were, when he was looking at him.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to imply you did,” he licked his lips and he lifted his chin, like he was trying to get a better look at Toshinori. “It’s just that I don’t mind since I literally just spent two seconds actually doing something here.”

He felt his face getting warm and thanked the protection of the shadows of the night. He hadn’t let his temper get the best of him since his debut.

“I’m very sorry, I was rude.”

“You really weren’t.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that you were implying--”

Eraserhead snorted. “It really doesn't need to be as complicated as you are making it.”

“Oh, okay.”

They regarded each other for a few seconds. Toshinori searched for the last remains of that short lived laugh on his face but Aizawa’s capture weapon didn’t let him. He bit his lip, the distance between them weighing him down like lead. He searched for things to say, to break the silence, to reach him like when they patrolled downtown Tokyo during their high school years.

He found nothing.

“Thank you for everything again.”

Eraserhead made a noncommittal noise.

“I hope I see you again, hero...?”

“Eraserhead. And I’m sure you won’t need to.”

And with that, Aizawa  Shōta left. Toshinori kept his gaze on the lighting post, watching him leave him. Again.