Fic Wip - Blog Posts

Short For Grenade update/excerpt !

every time i think im making solid progress with this fic, it keeps getting longer on me lol, so here's the most recent bit ive written:

“My, my, what a passionate statement,” Mitsuki pointed out, poking his knee. Katsuki frowned.   “I hate you,” he hissed.  “You are just chalk full of those feelings today, kid.”   Katsuki groaned loudly and extricated himself from his mother’s gentle grip, stomping up the stairs with a few curses tossed over his shoulder to avoid her less-gentle, bitch-ass cackling at his expense.  “C’mon Nade!” Katsuki called, grinning proudly to himself when he heard the sound of her nails scrabbling up the stairs behind himself. “Good girl,” he praised, waiting for her to trot into his room before he closed his door. 

Still in the living room, Masaru fell into Katsuki’s abandoned space on the couch, intertwining a hand with his wife.  “He didn’t slam it,” Masaru pointed out quietly, a wide, wobbly smile crawling over his face.  MItsuki eyed the staircase for a long moment before raising their clasped hands to place a kiss on her husband’s wedding band.  “Guess we’re not fucking this whole parenting thing up after all.” Masaru’s hair was greasy where it brushed against her neck, his body warm in all the places they were connected, and Mitsuki was…happy. She carefully stroked Masaru’s bangs away from his forehead while he began to sniffle on her shoulder, the sound of Katsuki’s raucous laughter echoing through the house, followed by the gleeful, yipping bark of Grenade the fucking dog.  Maybe…maybe they really weren’t fucking up, she thought to herself- maybe for the first time since they’d brought Katsuki back from the hospital, away from the watchful, knowing gazes of the doctors and nurses, and Mitsuki was left wondering just what the hell she was supposed to do with her baby now.  “You’re such a damn sap,” she murmured, tightening her grip on Masaru’s hand.  Masaru chuckled wetly, lifting his face to press a lingering kiss to Mitsuki’s temple. His eyes shone behind his glasses.  “Grenade,” he said wondrously, because neither of them could recall the last time Katsuki had stormed up to his room, angry, and not slammed the door.  And nothing else really needed to be said.   Mitsuki tipped her forehead against Masaru’s.  “Grenade,” she agreed in a whisper.

Bullet Point Tag

@aalinaaaaaa thanks for the tag! i decided to complete it for my in-progress fic, Short For Grenade

Drumstick soup? my favorite, yum

Anger issues -> pet dog pipeline

No weapons of mass destruction

Weapons of medium destruction are chill tho

Hashtag parenting win

Hives of love

You say dog, he says evil compass

Happy kidnap your friend(?) day!

Deny, deflect, detonate (and detonate one more time for good measure)

Idiot, dumbass, useless, stupid (affectionate)

This house is a prison

When your secrets keep being spilt by a guy you're not even telling them to

Rabbit trade? Denied. Loser.

Middle aged lady thieves

That's code for "my son has no friends"

All the phobias

Missing Masaru hours

Kidnapping, the sequel

Aaaand

Squirrel 1, Katsuki 0

The End :)

found an iori-centric i7 wip in my files today that i'd like to finish up. id love to post what i have now but there's no good place to chop it into two parts so here's a snippet instead! the fic is called let it sink in

iori/riku pre-slash, self-discovery, angst & hurt/comfort

Iori ran his finger along the thin skin beside his nail bed, tempted to pick at it but far too restrained to give into the impulse. “Meeting Yuki-san helped you figure out who you were?” Was that just the alcohol talking?  Iori had been under the impression that those sorts of answers could only come from some secret place inside. One that Iori was still struggling to gain access to.  “Mhmm!” Momo-san agreed brightly. “He was just so…” he sighed wistfully, rocking up onto his toes for a moment before settling back onto his heels and staring up at the moon. “And then I kept coming back. And back. And back. To see him and Ban-san. Like he was drawing me in.” Iori gently bit the inside of his cheek. “That sounds…familiar,” he admitted.  Momo-san grinned brightly, excitedly leaning closer to Iori. “I thought so!” Iori could smell the alcohol on his breath and took a subtle step back.  “It’s the same for you and Riku, right?” Momo-san’s expectant gaze shimmered despite the wan lighting, oddly intense, and Iori turned his gaze to the moon to avoid meeting it.  Iori wasn’t drunk but Momo-san was, so… “I think so,” Iori murmured softly. “It’s…I feel,” he tried, unsure how to end the sentence. Iori looked down towards his tightly clasped hands. “It’s weird,” he settled on.  A complete non-answer if Iori’s ever heard one, but that was all Iori seemed to have lately and Momo-san supposedly had the key to his own lockbox so maybe Iori could learn something if the man simply talked long enough.  

working on a dabihawks companion piece to the one above ^ (official version of probably not on ao3 but i only changed like two lines)

im thinking touya would be like 17 here instead of the 13(?) he was when he disappeared and was presumed dead in canon

here's what ive gotten down so far:

*cw for homophobia!

The first time Touya became Dabi, he was angry. The echo of his father’s parting words had been ringing sharply in his head- over and over striking the church tower bell in his mind with an unceasing hammer.    

Disgrace, he’d said. Unfit to be my heir. 

Touya’s face had felt on fire beneath his father’s stony gaze. His mother’s timid silence had crawled like ice across the back of his neck. 

The lingering ghost of soft lips pressed sweetly against his own- tall, handsome ones; a new hire in his father’s precinct- had all but disappeared under the way Touya’s teeth had bit into his skin, desperately holding his tears at bay. 

Choose that lifestyle, and you’re dead to me, his father had spat.   

It was purely by accident that someone had failed to lock away that day’s evidence into its proper place, a few cans of spray paint left abandoned on a precinct desk next to a bloody flyer and a broken phone. 

Touya had swiped the purple as he stormed away from his father’s stupid promotion party, scrubbing uselessly at his face. Half-hoping that his mother would have skittered after him once his father’s back was turned to wipe them away herself. 

Half-hoping that his father would have finally hired Touya to work alongside him, proud to announce it in between important handshakes and celebratory drinks. 

Half-blind with rage, Touya had spilled out of the back door like a drunkard, laughing softly to himself at first- grief grating the tender sides of his throat and then spilling harshly out into the open air like a hyena among the broken bottles and forgotten alley trash. 

Alone, behind the building that was his father’s one and only pride and joy, the can in his grip had felt heavy with promise and Touya didn’t pause to think before his trigger finger was pressing down on the release. 

Probably dead by now, he'd scrawled, the angry words biting into pristine red brick. Spite drawing a humorless huff from Touya’s unsmiling mouth. 

“All for a fucking kiss,” he’d whispered. 

But Touya knew- in the same, wordless way he knew his mother had never loved Touya more than she’d feared him- that Enji Todoroki was never going to hire Touya in the first place. No matter how good his marks, how fast he ran the mile, how much he volunteered with the other interns. The ones who always whispered behind his back that Touya’s last name made him golden. 

“Fuck him,” Touya had hissed furiously, slamming the can of spray paint onto the ground where it clanged satisfyingly against dark-cut asphalt, drowning out the sound of his disownment. Then he’d kicked it, for good measure, blinking wetly as he’d watched as it rolled into the shadow of a broken street lamp. 

The cars whizzing by had been none the wiser. 

Slowly, Touya had walked forward- boots thumping step by step by step until he was encased entirely in the single halo of darkness left on a bright, lamp-lit street. 

There had been a cracked-open window. A pop of champagne. A muted cheer.  

Without a second thought, Touya had crouched down to retrieve the can, slipping it into the pocket of his suit jacket before stomping away, an alias on the tip of his tongue and the life of a cracked-open son left behind. The ghost of a kiss left abandoned like a cigarette stub on the sidewalk.

@probabydeadbynow i saw your user (though im now realizing i misread it, lol) and it sparked this short fic idea so i wanted to share it with you before i post to ao3 (bnha, no quirk AU)

There was a piece of graffiti Izuku always saw around town. Sometimes it’d be done in white, other times blue, but most of the time it was purple- each letter looped and sprawling and bleeding into the next. 

Probably dead by now, it always said. 

Izuku didn’t know why he liked it so much. It felt odd to smile at those words when he saw them spray painted underneath the Musutafu bridge but, then again, he remembered seeing those same exact words when he was being driven home from the hospital after breaking his arm for the first time, a lollipop between his lips and a new All Might plush under his arm. And then again the morning his Dad came home for Christmas, surprising Izuku at the door. And then again the day of Kacchan’s 10th birthday party. The one with the All Might impersonator that had carried them both around on his shoulders for a while, their sweaty hands linked behind his head for no other reason except that they were happy. 

White then blue then white again. Purple today. 

Probably dead by now, it always said. 

Probably not, Izuku thought back, peering out of the passenger window with a growing smile. 

Izuku had never seen the artist. Never even caught a glimpse, but their handwriting was paint-splattered over so many of Izuku’s brightest memories. 

“What’s got you so smiley, huh?” Kacchan asked. 

Izuku turned away from the window, watching the way Kacchan’s sweaty hands gripped the steering wheel like his life depended on it. He’d only had his license for a few weeks now. 

“I think something good’s going to happen today,” Izuku replied.

Privately, he was pretty sure it already had. 

Kacchan hadn’t invited Izuku anywhere since that 10th birthday party at the arcade and now they were on their way to tour a newly built school together. 

Kacchan scoffed lightly. “What’s so good about college?” he shot back. 

“I don’t know,” Izuku replied honestly, idly flicking through the UA pamphlet resting on his lap. “Maybe…” Izuku glanced towards Kacchan. Quieter, he said, “Maybe we’ll end up going there together. You know, like old times?” 

Really old times, anyway. When Izuku would trade his apple slices for Kacchan’s potato chips at lunchtime and they’d walk home together in their baby blue smocks, hands clasped firmly together.

Not like the way they’d make passing eye contact in the halls of their high school, always in opposite motion even if Izuku’s eyes would sometimes trail after Kacchan's back. 

Even if sometimes he caught Kacchan looking, too. 

Kacchan was quiet for a few moments, the careful tick of the turn signal a feeble echo of Izuku’s hammering pulse.  

Izuku was pretty sure he remembered seeing that same graffiti- purple, and nearly washed out by a recent rainstorm- the day Kacchan threw Izuku’s notebook from a third story window in junior high. 

“Just don’t expect me to fucking hold your hand,” Kacchan eventually bit out, eyes averted- his focus too intense on the empty road for it mean anything other than embarrassment. 

His tone too light for it to even feel like a denial. 

Izuku quickly turned his gaze to his knees, smothering a smile. The UA pamphlet creased beneath his fingers. 

Probably dead by now.  

Purple. Scribbled across the window of an empty storefront. 

Kacchan had grabbed Izuku’s hand two blocks later and shoved that same pamphlet at him, holding on for a beat too long. 

“You dropped that,” he’d lied. 

His hand had been warm. 

“My dad and I were gonna tour it this weekend but he’s got a work thing.”

Izuku’s eyes had been wide and curious. He’d held his breath while Kacchan scratched the back of his neck and scuffed the toe of his shoe on the ground, casting around for the right words to say. 

“I guess you could take his spot or whatever,” he’d continued with a shrug. “If you pay for gas. ‘Cause I’m going whether you catch a ride or not.”

Izuku had thought that Kacchan would probably leave him in the dust by the time it came to go to college. Or not go, he supposed, but…

Izuku lifted his head again, listening to the way Kacchan hummed softly along with the radio. His sunglasses were All Might themed- a custom release with a subtle design that Izuku hadn’t been able to afford. 

There was a second pair, just like it, shoved towards Izuku’s chest when he first climbed into Kacchan’s car, along with a muttered comment about how Kacchan didn’t want to hear any crybaby complaints about the sun. 

They rested comfortably on Izuku’s head now. 

Probably dead by now, it always said.  

Izuku pulled them down until everything in his field of vision was tinged a soft yellow. 

Life was funny that way, he thought.

looking for fellow writers!! togachako writing game edition

interested in writing a second part to a short togachako fic i wrote?

i dont really plan on doing anything with this piece so i think it'd be really fun to see people's takes on how to continue it! like a super low pressure writing game

if you do participate, pls tag me or reblog so i can see your contribution!! even if its just a few lines!

the fic is a loose play on frankenstein with some adam & eve elements thrown in (and the unnamed girl is ochako)

have at it! :)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Toga was a bloodied thing, she knew. 

She was born with cold metal kissing her bare skin and electricity shrieking down her spine. Her first breath- a choking, cut-off scream- was not even her own, the memory too tightly braided with the boom of Dr. Garaki's laughter in his small laboratory. 

I made you, he had explained, pain still ringing oddly in her skull. 

She had been made, not born, and no one loved to remind her of this fact more than Dr. Garaki himself. 

Pet, he called her, grinning indulgently in his tall, wingback office chair. The reflection of his glasses shone like fire. Like the spark that had jolted her alive. 

I made you, he’d say. I made you. 

But what am I? Toga would ask, twin pinpricks of too-sharp teeth digging into her too-wide lips while she fumbled out the words, warmth dribbling from her rosy smile. 

Dr. Garaki did not like this image, nor the question. 

You are my creation, he’d snap, the floor rumbling with the force of his rise from the wingback chair. Do you not trust me, pet? 

Toga would watch the sky flash outside the dark windows of the laboratory and nod, nod, nod because she did not know what she was but she knew punishment well. 

All Toga knew was punishment and Inside. 

The Inside of the laboratory, which smelled faintly of the coins that slipped between uneven couch cushions, and the Inside of Toga- drawn from her own disordered lips- red as plush velvet and twice as sweet. 

Good, Dr. Garaki would say from behind his wide, unbreachable desk. Now behave. 

Behave, behave, behave. 

This word buzzed around Toga’s head like the constant drone of heavy machinery in the lab. It followed her when she closed her fists around home-smelling coins, retrieved from their hiding places late at night, and when she draped her goose-bumped body in the off-limits, grass-green curtains, and, louder still, when she peered out of small, dirt-smeared windows, asking after the word for grass.

Red had leaked from her cheek, then, bursting forth from the skin by the rings adorning Dr. Garaki’s punishing hand. But the word had slipped out as he’d shouted. 

Toga’s tongue had darted to the corner of her mouth and she’d imagined the word blooming over her tongue- swallowed and safe within herself. 

Yes, Toga knew of Inside well. She craved the taste of Outside, now. 

Outside she saw a girl with red flowers in her hand, picked from the border of Dr. Garaki’s property, and high on her cheeks laid a dusting of soft-petalled blush. 

Toga had never known the color red could be so gentle.

Toga longed to be picked from the laboratory like the thorned stems in the girl’s steady hands. To be lifted up. To be held. 

“You’re not supposed to be looking through there,” Twice whispered from over Toga’s shoulder. “It’s bad.” 

Toga gnawed on her bottom lip, drawing red to the surface until she matched the roses being carried further and further from the laboratory. 

“Why?” she asked. 

Toga didn’t know who she was asking- Twice, the disappearing girl, or the flowers? 

Twice was the only one to respond. 

“Because Dr. Garaki said it’s bad,” he reminded her nervously. 

Toga watched the girl’s form begin to blur on the horizon. 

Twice shook her shoulder and Toga’s gaze slipped to the touch, observing the firm boundary between Toga and Twice. His fingers held the same shape as Dr. Garaki’s- more same than Toga’s- yet held none of the anger. Only urgency. 

“How come Dr. Garaki gets to make all the rules?” Toga asked. 

Twice’s hand slipped away like the question had bitten him, and, Toga thought to herself, maybe it had. With Twice’s same-enough hands he could cradle lessons from Dr. Garaki on how to name the objects in the laboratory. His scratching fingers could be gently pulled away from his seams. He could hold close the smiling shape of son on Dr. Garaki’s lips. 

Twice held the honor of being made same-enough while Toga’s hands and heart and smile were wrong, wrong, wrong. 

Pet, Dr. Garaki said, teeth glistening behind a simper. Filthy-

“Mr. Garaki wants what’s best for us,” Twice said, twitching on the last syllable and scratching the ragged line carved down his forehead. 

“Does he?” Toga questioned. 

How do you know? she wanted to ask. She craved his certainty with a desperation that left her Inside chest pounding hard against the firm line of her Outside body. 

Twice twitched. 

“I trust him.” 

The dull roar of the laboratory seemed loud today, and Toga felt restless. 

“Do you trust?” Twice asked. 

Toga’s mouth quivered and she turned her gaze back to the small window. The girl was gone now but she would be back tomorrow. 

Toga flinched as the door slammed open and Dr. Garaki appeared a moment later. 

Pet or-

“Filthy woman,” Dr. Garaki muttered, striding forward to yank the green curtain from Toga’s body. The view of Outside disappeared. 

Toga shivered. 

“Don’t you know your shame dirties you?” Dr. Garaki continued, staring at the Outside of her body. 

Could he see the Inside?

Toga desperately hoped that he couldn’t. 

“It’s unbecoming of my creations,” he stated before spinning on his covered foot to stride through his office door, a box of rattling machine parts held in his arms. 

Toga’s trust in Dr. Garaki was as brittle as the vase she had tipped over the other day, fascinated by the sound it made when it hit the floor. Left in a puddle of red after Dr. Garaki had found her. 

Inside herself, Toga said, I do not trust Dr. Garaki, and shame bloomed hot and heavy in her chest. 

She felt like the vase, one breathless moment before it shattered. 

“Toga?” Twice whispered, eyes drooping with concern. 

“It’s cold,” Toga whispered. 

Twice fidgeted for a moment, his nails hesitating a  few inches from his sewn-together face. After a furtive glance towards Dr. Garaki’s closed office door, he gave into the urge to scratch, leaving raking, red lines across his Outside. 

“I know,” he murmured. “Do I? I…yes. I know.” 

Toga blinked away the blurry heat gathering in her eyes and reached out with her not-same-enough hand until it rested on Twice’s knee. 

Slowly, she ran her hand up and down one length of his leg. Then faster. 

Twice stared. 

“See?” she whispered. “It makes warmth.”

“I…” Twice peeked over his shoulder, towards the door Dr. Garaki had disappeared behind. “…see. I see. I do.”

Toga removed her hand and watched Twice repeat the action for himself. 

Toga turned back to the green curtain, looking in the place she knew the window lived, and began rubbing warmth back into her arms as she imagined the girl. 

I trust her, Toga decided. 

And how lovely was it for there to be a her that wasn’t Toga? A her that Toga might be same-enough for. 

Dr. Garaki cursed the Outside people but Toga bit her lip and danced with the idea that the girl from Outside might see Toga- red as the roses she always returned to- and pluck her, instead. 

And then maybe Toga could live how she wanted to. Cursed or not.

also . wanted to share a portion of my current twst fic wip! idk when i'll post this nor how long i want this to be, but it's just a malleus & silver (brothers) fic and an introspection on their relationship dynamic as the years pass by :D i think it's just super interesting to analyze, particularly since malleus (or fae in general) easily lose track of time, which is contrasting to humans' concept of time.

time is a social construct..... it's a very interesting theme to play around with. i think my philosophy class has been getting too into my head lately.

tell me about your favorite of your wips. >:)

uhhh

I have a lot I'm fond of and my favorite one is going to be kept a secret because I want to reveal nothing about it until I actually finish writing chapter one 😔

Anyways, one of my other favorites is my wip "I picked the petals, he loves me not"

It's a hanahaki sskk au, where Akutagawa starts coughing up flowers due to a crush on a...certain someone...

But yk, with his lung condition and all that, the hanahaki will probably kill him in like a month or even less

And the hanahaki strikes while Atsushi and Akutagawa are heading back from a mission and then Atsushi gets all worried bc wtf people don't just start vomiting petals everywhere and then Akutagawa has to brush it off like "it's nothing weretiger" when it's very clearly not nothing 😔

Atsushi goes to Ranpo for advice and Ranpo tells him about hanahaki and how it all works. So now Atsushi's determined to save Akutagawa, and saving him requires Akutagawa to confess his feelings to whoever he loves (I wonder who that could be 👀)

Chaos ensues

Also I've had this idea for like at least a year now but my snail of a brain is just like "I'll get to it later"

Also the title is a lyric from the song You're On Your Own, Kid by Taylor Swift

what’s like an ambitious fic idea you have? Or idk favorite au to write/read?

there's sooo many big fics I want to write but idk if I can handle all that 😔 so I stick to oneshots and short fics (like six chapters max for me tbh, I have commitment issues)

So smth ambitious for me uhh

That might be my WIP "stole my heart" which is a thief Atsushi x detective Akutagawa longfic set in 1920s America. I've written little for it but it's huge in my head, I'd say it's ambitious because I'm writing like a whole mystery plot to it (Poe pls help me) but it's also gotta incorporate lots of romance 😔

There'd be a lot of miscommunication and pining and probably smut and lots of angst and moral dilemma and ofc m u r d e r because even though Atsushi is just a thief in this doesn't mean I won't go all Agatha Christie and murder some people in the fic (also Atsushi isn't a petty thief, he's a big-time wanted criminal :>)

It's been really exciting to brainstorm! :D

And for favorite AU to write might be...hm... ngl I hate like all of my writing but an AU that's fun every time is a wild west AU

My favorite AU to read is probably a college AU ngl they just hit different every time (I may also have a soft spot for it bc it was a college AU that got me into fanfiction)

tell me about the as we dance in the pale moonlight fic :000 from the ask game

That's the most boring WIP I have lmao 😭 but sure :D

It's a fluffy, kinda indulgent, oneshot I'm writing where Atsushi and Akutagawa simply just spend a night together. And, can you believe it, they end up dancing in the ✨moonlight✨

Idk I just love the idea of sskk dancing together but with no music and like, it's just *them*, together. It's peaceful and I love peaceful sskk

Here's a snippet (and no I don't know how to get italics on Tumblr 🙏 bear with me and my asterisks);

Akutagawa watched his red blood swirl down the drain of the sink, the pain from his injuries stinging lightly. He quietly sighed and looked in the mirror.

His black and white hair was messy, his skin was paler than usual and the bags under his eyes weren't helping with his tired appearance.

Akutagawa had gotten back from a mission, bloody and bruised, and gone to the bathroom almost immediately to wash his wounds and bandage himself up. 

He heard a knock on the door, before a voice spoke up.

"Ryuu?"

Akutagawa felt the corner of his mouth twitch up. Hearing Atsushi's voice made his muscles relax. He loved being able to come back to his apartment and Atsushi was there to greet him. 

"Yes, weretiger?" He answered back, turning off the tap and drying his hands on a towel. 

"Are you alright?" Atsushi, on the other side of the door, creased his eyebrows as his tiger-honed ears caught the sound of the water shutting off. He knew it was inevitable for Akutagawa to have been injured someway or another, that was just the nature of ex-vampire's job, but it didn't mean he wouldn't *worry.*

"I am fine," Akutagawa reassured in his weary voice. He unspooled the bandages and wrapped them gently around his raw, but now clean, wounds. 

Atsushi let out a small sigh of relief, he couldn't help it. After a few quiet moments, Akutagawa swung open the door with a loose tendril of Rashomon and was greeted with the sight of a very concerned weretiger.

The white-haired detective immediately assessed Akutagawa's bandages and how bad they appeared.

"Weretiger, I said *I am fine,*" Akutagawa repeated, knowing what was crossing Atsushi's mind.

He cupped Atsushi's face in his hands and looked his boyfriend in the eye, Akutagawa's silver glare turning soft as he met the weretiger's upset gaze. 

"You don't *look* fine." Atsushi grumbled, leaning into Akutagawa's calloused yet lithe touch. 

~~

Yeah I have no idea what the heck that even is, it's definitely not my best work 😭

Also anyone seeing this post can ask me about my other WIPs I'm very lonely and want to talk about writing 😔

Am I cooking?