Ao3 Author - Blog Posts

I wrote a second chapter!

I am writing this fic about Teru and Reigen and I forgot to mention that here lmao

Check it out! It's pretty mediocre, but I put a lot of love in it!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62608510/chapters/165924838

Chapter 8 of Children of the Star has been posted!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62608510/chapters/164687728

Chapter 7 of Children of the Star has been posted!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62608510/chapters/164474341

Chapter 6 of Children of the Star has been posted!

(This was mentbto be posted last night but someone forgot.. whoops(*´∀｀))

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62608510/chapters/164442109

Chapter 5 of Children of the Star is now posted!!

I'm on the third page of one chapter, and if my estimation is correct and the use of one page is approximately 900-1k words this is going to be a shit ton of words.

Did I just watch a nine minute video about respirator mask safety for a fic?

Yes. Yes I did.

If you:

Love bkdk/bakudeku/dkbk/katsizu idk whatever name you prefer for Bakugou Katsuki/Izuku Midoriya

Love friends to lovers

Love fics that update daily

Love bamf! protagonists

Love power couples

Love different aus

Love the codependency tag

Like stories including run away couples

Like adventure fics

Like heroes

Love x men (or don't know anything about them)

Love fanfic

Love plot twists

Like to support people idk

You may consider reading, my new fic:

And in case you enjoy it PLEASE leave a comment or a kudos I dont get many of those but I love them

please read the tags I don't want to accidentally trigger anyone please be safe and know your limits

About you ? (Don't let go)

Summary:

Midoriya Izuku has vanished without a trace, missing for three long months. When Katsuki Bakugou, renowned pro hero, reluctantly takes on the cold case at the behest of Izuku's mother—his devoted, unseen fan—he embarks on a journey of unraveling mysteries and piecing together memories. As he delves deeper into Izuku's world, Bakugou unexpectedly finds himself captivated by a person he's never met, navigating a path where love intertwines with the shadows of a haunting disappearance.

Or the story where Katsuki Bakugou falls inexorably in love with someone he's never laid eyes on.

Chapter 1: Did you think I had forgotten?

Katsuki Bakugou was notorious for his impatience. His famous short temper, who’s  presence been a constant in his life since his childhood, despite years of therapy, remained untamed. Today was an especially trying day—a fan meet-and-greet. He despised these events with a passion. His fans, he believed, consisted mostly of desperate, perverted women or clueless kids drawn to his brash attitude and powerful quirk.

These gatherings were always tedious. His job entailed tolerating fans who asked for autographs on inappropriate places ( like who in the hell wanted an autograph on their tits?) or requested absurd photos ( Katsuki does not do family friendly photos with annoying and loud brats). He could already tell it would be a long, irritating day. However, the next woman in line didn't seem interested in an autograph. Actually, the chubby short greenette woman, who was dressed as the number one enemy of fashion, didn’t like she belonged this crowd at all. She looked as old as his mother, and if she dared pull out panties for him to sign, he swore he'd swore he would blast her face, leave this hellhole and call the day done, his publicist could screw themselves. Suppressing his irritation, Katsuki managed:

- Alright, lady. What do you need?

The woman in front of him emanated nervous energy. But the woman surprised him, by muttering clearly and softly:

- Dynamite-sama, I'm sorry to disturb you, but I need your help.

Annoyed yet intrigued by her sincerity but also hoping he wouldn’t regret this later, Katsuki asked:

- What's the problem?

Sadly, she replied:

- It's my son. He's missing, and I can't find him.

Bakugou, who wasn’t understanding what this crazy lady wanted from him, scoffed:

- Do I look like a lost and found sector? Get security to help you. I'm working.

Desperation etched her face. 

- My son isn't here.

Exasperated, Katsuki snapped:

- Then how am I supposed in to find him? Look, I'm not here to do hero work today and-

Cutting him off, she pleaded:

- Please, Dynamite-sama!  No one has been able to find him! You're my last hope!

Reluctantly, Katsuki relented:

- Fine. When did you last see him?

She answered, on the verge of tears: 

- Three months ago.

Katsuki rolled his eyes:

- And only now you realize that the fucker is missing? Did you go to the police?

She explained frantically:

- I did, but they've stopped searching.  

Before he could protest further, a girl, with the sluttiest outfit ever, barged in, demanding her turn with Katsuki. Katsuki will never know why they bother when he already announced himself as gay to the press. Annoyed, he shouted:

- SHUT THE FUCK UP, Extra! WAIT ON THE DAMN LINE. 

He urged the woman:

- Go on.

Gratefully, she continued:

- Thank you, Dynamite- sama! As I was saying, I need your help to find my boy! They keep saying to me that it’s common and that maybe he just left home and that he is of legal age but it doesn’t make sense for him to just disappear like that and I’m worried for him. 

Katsuki wasn’t believing he was hearing this shit. Where are the cameras? Is she for real?! But after a deep breath, he said:

- And you thought that I, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite, would be THE person to help you locate your son, because?

But the woman was unbothered by the sarcasm in there :

- You see, my son, Izuku, is your biggest fan. He's been since you won that UA tournament at fifteen. He always believed you'd be Japan's top hero one day. Izuku has a heart of gold, and this isn't like him. Please, help me find him.

Internally urging himself to agree just to get rid of her, Katsuki sighed: 

- Alright, alright. I'll take the case and start tomorrow.

Tears of relief streamed down her cheeks:

- Thank you, Dynamite-sama!

As she left, the endless line of bizarre encounters continued, like clockwork.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Katsuki almost forgot about the woman until, after a 15-hour shift, a file fell from his bed shelf. After a long nap, as he organized his room, he found it again—the case of Izuku Midoriya. The case was enveloped in the folder and Katsuki quickly turns past the index and onto the first page, hoping for a photo of the kid missing. Woah, there. The blue folder held a photo that caught Katsuki's attention immediately. The pretty green eyes were the first thing he noticed accompanied by cute freckles darting all around, he had pretty curls that appeared to have life on its own. His face was roundish and his eyes were big, in the photo he was smiling and the background was white. Definitely not a kid, like DAMN. He was charming, unlike anyone Katsuki had seen before.

Case Details: Physical Characteristics:   Somewhat short for his age (21), Izuku Midoriya has a round face framed by a mop of fluffy, dark-green hair that curls at odd angles. His large, circular eyes match the shade of his hair, often appearing watery and wide, giving him an innocent and energized appearance. He bears four symmetrical freckles in diamond formations, with being 21 on his left cheek and 24 in his right cheek. Izuku is often described as "plain-looking" or "not standing out" by others.  

Katsuki paused, incredulous. Also, who the hell described the prettiest boy he had ever seen as “plain- looking” like what the fuck? Who gave this moron the job? He shook his head in annoyance at the description.

Distinguishing Features: Freckles all over his body Quirk: Quirkless

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. Quirkless? Despite his charming appearance, Izuku lacked a quirk. It was surprising.

Last Seen Clothing: White tank top, jeans, white sneakers Circumstances of Disappearance: Last seen at Mustafu’s Public Library, Detroit Street at 4 PM on May 14, 2062.

The notes were sparse, leaving Katsuki frustrated. It had been three months since Izuku's disappearance, and he wasn't a detective. However, the photo of Izuku intrigued him enough to continue reading. According to the file, Midoriya had left the library after borrowing two books, bidding farewell to the librarian, Blair Pamper. That was the extent of the information. The detectives had seemingly halted their investigation there. Tossing the folder onto his bed, Katsuki scoffed at the idea of getting involved. He muttered, turning away: 

- Not my problem.

Yet, as he paced the room, the image of Izuku's earnest eyes lingered in his mind. Hours passed. Katsuki found himself unable to shake off the feeling of unease. Finally, unable to resist his curiosity, he retrieved the folder and flipped through it again, lingering on Izuku's photo. Katsuki muttered, trying to convince himself:

- He's just another lost pretty face.

But something about Izuku's gaze, innocent yet determined, tugged at him. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

At first, Katsuki's pride kept him distracted, and for four days, Bakugou didn't spare a single thought for the quirkless nerd. However, on the fifth day, thoughts of him resurfaced, and by the evening, Bakugou found himself slouched on Kirishima's couch, his usual intensity subdued. Kirishima noticed the tension in his friend's shoulders, the way his hands clenched and unclenched in his lap.

Kirishima asked, tossing a bag of chips onto the coffee table:

- Hey man, what's eating at you?" Kirishima asked, tossing a bag of chips onto the coffee table.

Bakugou grunted, taking a handful of chips and chewing slowly. He muttered, his voice unusually quiet:

- It's that damn case.

Kirishima raised an eyebrow, leaning forward:

- Case? What case?

Bakugou hesitated, unsure how much to disclose:

- It's... a missing person. Someone I heard about.

Kirishima nodded, sensing Bakugou's reluctance. He encouraged gently:

- Okay, go on.

Bakugou sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair:

- This guy, Izuku Midoriya. He's been missing for three months now. The cops stopped looking.

Concern furrowed Kirishima's brow:

- That's rough, man. Do you know him?

Bakugou shook his head:

- Never met him. But something about it bugs me. Like... I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this story.

Kirishima studied his friend, recognizing the determination in Bakugou's eyes:

- So, what's bothering you the most about it?

Bakugou shrugged, a hint of frustration in his voice:

- I dunno yet. But something doesn't sit right.

Kirishima leaned back, thinking:

- Is he a friend of yours?

Bakugou hesitated, then decided to reveal more:

- No, I don't know him personally. But he's quirkless.

Kirishima's eyebrows shot up in surprise:

- Quirkless? That's unusual. Does that bother you?

Bakugou tensed slightly, his discomfort evident.:

- Yeah... People like him don't always get the attention they deserve. It's like everyone's forgotten about him already.

Kirishima leaned forward, serious now:

- Look, whether he has a quirk or not, if this case bothers you, you should pursue it. Maybe no one else will, but that doesn't mean it's not worth looking into.

They fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of Bakugou's internal struggle hanging heavy in the air. Kirishima knew Bakugou had his reasons, but he also knew his friend's sense of justice ran deep. As Bakugou got up to leave, Kirishima gave his shoulder a reassuring clap: 

- Good luck, man. Let me know if you need anything.

Bakugou nodded, a mix of determination and uncertainty flickering across his face.

- Yeah, I will.

With that, Bakugou left, leaving Kirishima to ponder the mysteries weighing on his friend's mind, hoping Bakugou would find the answers he sought.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

After talking to Kirishima, Katsuki wrestled with his pride and the unsettling feeling that had gripped him since their conversation about Izuku. Despite his initial resistance, curiosity and a growing sense of obligation gnawed at him. Yet, beneath his hardened exterior, a nagging sense of unease persisted. Katsuki sat at his cluttered desk, the soft hum of his laptop filling the dimly lit room. His eyes scanned through news articles and police reports, but his thoughts kept drifting back to one name: Izuku Midoriya.The image of Izuku, a quirkless nobody, haunted him more than he cared to admit. Katsuki muttered under his breath, trying to dismiss the gnawing feeling in his gut:

- He's just another damn case. I don't even know the guy.

But that wasn't entirely true. Over the past few days, Katsuki had immersed himself in the details of Izuku's disappearance. He knew about Izuku's quirklessness, his quiet determination, and his unwavering belief in heroes. Somehow, those details had woven themselves into Katsuki's thoughts, lingering like threads he couldn't untangle. 

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his spiky blond hair. He muttered, his frustration growing:

- Why the hell am I so fixated on this?

A memory flashed through his mind—a fleeting image of Izuku's face from the missing person poster. Those large, hopeful eyes seemed to stare back at him, silently pleading for help. It was absurd, Katsuki thought. He had never met Izuku, never exchanged a single word with him. And yet, here he was, feeling a strange sense of responsibility.

With a sigh, Katsuki closed the laptop, pushing it aside with a bit more force than necessary. He stood up and walked over to the window, gazing out at the city lights below. The night was quiet, the streets empty save for the occasional passing car.

Still, as much as he resisted, a small ember of concern flickered within him, igniting a reluctant curiosity that refused to be extinguished. As he paced his apartment that evening, Katsuki finally acknowledged the truth he had been avoiding: this case mattered to him. With a begrudging nod to himself, he made a decision. Katsuki muttered aloud, testing the name on his tongue once more:

- Izuku Midoriya.

It felt foreign yet familiar, like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit but somehow belonged. He continued his speech to himself:

- I don't know why, but I'm going to find you.

As he turned away from the window, Katsuki couldn't shake the feeling that he was about to embark on a journey that would change more than just his routine. It was a journey that would challenge his perceptions, his pride, and perhaps even his understanding of what it meant to be a hero.

He walked back to his desk and pulled out a worn notebook, flipping to a blank page. Gripping the pen tightly in his hand, he began to jot down notes—potential leads, questions to ask, places to visit. Each stroke of the pen felt like a commitment, a promise to himself and to Izuku.

Hours passed as Katsuki immersed himself in planning, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting shadows across his determined face. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, a mix of determination and uncertainty swirling within him.

With that, Katsuki closed his notebook and glanced once more at the missing person poster pinned to his bulletin board. Izuku's face stared back at him, a reminder of the challenge ahead. Tomorrow, he would begin his search in earnest, driven by a newfound sense of purpose and a growing connection to a person he had never even met.

Tomorrow, he would begin investigating Izuku's disappearance.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Want to keep reading? Read it on ao3 now!

guys so like im from Brazil and like Im so so glad that it was only twitter (like that's sad but it can always be worse) that was banned because this unlocked a new fear

WHAT IF THEY BAN AO3? Never been more terrified in my entire life

I just turned 17 and so did ao3. It's kinda weird to think we're the same age :/

Hey! You can call me Lucid. I write fan fiction on Ao3 and I’m multifandom, but write for the My Hero Academia, but will be exploring writing for others in future.

My current works are: This is Our Burden which will be an on going series and I am about to rerelease It's Always a Competition, both of these are self insert fics (Bakugou x Kirishima x Reader & Bakugou x Reader).

My page is currently going through and upgrade hasn't bee updated in a while but that is all about to change with the new year. I will be continuing current fics, releasing new and now have pages where I can share visuals for my fics.

I am a chronic fan fic reader so I have many suggestions, which you can find in my bookmarks on my account.

I'm doing the may challenge on AO3 and for one of the oneshots there's two ways it could go

the only sufficient way to write a chapter is to write 500 words and then go on a 15 minute break

𝐒𝐦𝟎𝐤!𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝟒𝐤𝐮 𝐰𝟑𝟑𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝟎𝐦!𝟑

The smell of weed filled the air, as dreams flew out the window. Kazuha had given up hope, ever since his friend had passed away, so he decided to get high to hopefully make his worries go away.

His eyes were red from crying, and from smoking.

He wrapped the naku weed in pieces of his poetry.

His plan was to get out of this damned nation with Tomo. However, the Raiden shogun had a change of plans; so did him..

He heard something behind him; but he honestly didn't give a shit anymore. Standing behind him was a short man, with choppy indigo hair, and a large hat. He sat himself across from him.

The man picked up the purple weeds, and curiously looked at them. "Know how to do it?" Kazuha asked. He shook his head. He grabbed the one in his hand and grabbed a piece of papers. Crushing it, then rolling it up.

"Then you light the tip and inhale." He showed him how to do it, carefully guiding his hands.

"There you go!" He cheered.

The men smoked for hours on end.

"My co-workers are such assholes! Can't even do they're damn job right.." The indigo complained. Kazuha listened to the man's tales about his boss, and how he worked with idiots. He had some sympathy for him.

"What are you doing out here anyway?" He asked. "The fucking shogun killed my friend, so I'm just out here mopingg." He gritted his teeth. "Oh don't get me started on that bitch, she's a fucking pussy, won't even leave her little safe place and sends her puppet to do everything for her!"

"I like you purple boy, what's your name?" "Kunikuzushi, what's yours weed boy?" "Kaedehara Kazuha, but you can call me Kazuha."

"Let's do this again, sometime." Kunikuzushi shook his hand.

Kazuha blacked out for most of the night, when he woke up, the man was gone.

Chapter 2 is finally out!!! Sorry it took me so long, I tend procrastinate on a lot of stuff 😅

That scene from GOT where daenerys eats the horse heart but its Hannibal and Will or something

writing fanfiction until my tension headache spirals into a migraine

Supernova Love | spacedogs oneshot

There were four minutes and thirty-seven seconds left when a body slid next to his, just an arm’s length away. Adam focused on the ratty shoelaces of his midnight blue converses, not wanting to risk conversation. He was so close to this night being over. In three minutes he could just go home and lay down in bed, star projector on the ceiling, and a documentary playing softly in the background.

“Hey!” They yelled over the music.

Adam’s heart seized with anxiety, his chest clenching painfully, and he swallowed thickly. Maybe he could just pretend that he couldn’t hear them.

“Hey!” They yelled again, louder.

Reluctantly, Adam turned, his head heavy on his his neck, and looked. It was the guy from earlier with the silly shirt. He was taller up close and more intimidating than the little doggies let on. He had nice eyes though, sharp cheekbones, and a soft jawline. And he was sucking on another cigarette. The tip of it glowed in the dim room and a puff of smoke followed a moment later, the teen taking a moment to chew on the flavor.

“Hello…” Adam said. His nose wrinkled at the smell of cigarette smoke wafting his way. The guy smelled like he had already smoked a pack of them.

“You good?” He asked. “You’ve been here a while. You sick or some shit?”

Adam swallowed and replied, “No, I’m not. Just, uhm, overwhelmed.” He knew that he was half-shouting just so he could be heard over the music, but it sounded quiet to his own ears.

“Mm,” The guy acknowledged. His bony fingers plucked the cigarette from his lips and offered it to Adam.

Adam vehemently shook his head and the guy paused like he just realized something, then shrugged and took another drag.

Adam watched his cheeks sink in with the motion, strangely enraptured by the sight of it. The guy made eye contact with him for a second as he inhaled and Adam quickly looked away, it felt like a burn. When he exhaled, he turned the other way and Adam blinked in surprise.

”You gonna drink that?” He asked, gesturing to the drink in Adam’s hand.

”Uhm, no. I don’t drink,” Adam said timidly. He forgot he was even holding the cup.

”What?” The guy asked, leaning closer to hear him.

”Uh- I-I said I don’t drink!” Adam repeated louder. The smell of cigarettes become stronger and his head spun from it. The strangers face was startlingly close for a moment and he felt like he could barely breathe.

“What?!” They guy exclaimed, reeling back. “You don’t smoke or drink? The fuck’re you doing here then?” A few ashes fell off the tip of his cigarette.

Adam’s face felt hot, irrationally embarrassed about not participating in casual substance use. “I’m here for my friend!” He explained.

”Oh yeah? Where is he?”

She, Adam wanted to correct, but it felt pointless.

“Uhm I don’t know.”

”So, he just left you here?”

”I guess.”

The other teen’s upper lift lifted into a little snarl, something that Adam didn’t see a lot of people do. Then, he muttered something, but Adam was never good at reading lips.

”What?” Adam asked.

The guy waved it off, taking another drag from his cigarette. It was too short to keep sucking on, so he dropped it and snuffed it out under his leather boot, then picked it up and stuffed it in his pocket. Adam wondered how many were in there.

From his angle, he watched the other teen’s shaggy ashen-blonde hair flop from its gelled style and when he stood back up, a few strands had fallen over his forehead. It looked better this way, he thought, but the guy ran a hand through his hair to smooth it back. Adam could see the sweat on his neck glistening beneath the strobe lights.

“Wanna get out of here?” He asked.

With you? Adam wanted to say, but he nodded regardless because he really, really did want to leave. He would rather leave with a stranger than stay a moment longer.

Shirt Guy—Adam was calling him that in his head now—walked past him and through the doors. He trailed behind him like a shadow, face-to-face with little dachshunds. The outside air was blissfully cool and he took a deep breath of fresh air, savoring it as his lungs expanded. They walked down the steps descending into the roundabout in front of the mansion and sat next to each other on the last one.

“So, what do you do if you’re not drinking or smoking?” Shirt Guy asked. His voice sounded different when it was quiet and he had an accent that Adam somehow didn’t notice until now. He was just too overwhelmed before to register it.

“Uhm, I read or go to the park. I go to the museum too…when I can,” Adam said. He wondered why Shirt Guy was even talking to him, he didn't think he was interesting enough.

Shirt Guy grinned wolfishly and said, “So, you’re a nerd.”

Adam’s lips pursed in displeasure. “I guess,” He shrugged. “What do, uh, what do you do?”

”I fix cars.”

”Oh,” Adam said. “Cool.”

Shirt Guy snorted like he knew that Adam didn’t actually care and that was a little embarrassing.

“You like milkshakes?”

“...Milkshakes?”

|

Read the rest on Ao3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64567516

I will write smut and think it's the pinnacle of all my works, forget about it, remember I wrote it, then cringe and put it in a hidden folder on ao3 where it will never again see the light of day

Unable are the Loved to Die | Peter Parker Fic

(June 2011)

“Is killing people wrong?” Peter asked.

Mary put the pencil she was holding down and looked at her creation. Peter was sitting in Richard’s chair with his head resting in his arms on the table. He looked so innocent then, with his cherub cheeks, wide eyes, and freckles, but the question that fell from his mouth was so complex.

How could a robot understand morality?

“Yes,” Mary said.

“Then, why do I do it?”

“Because, it's what you were made to do.”

-

When Tony Stark recovers a shut down cyborg on a routine Hydra raid, he makes it his own personal mission to get the bot working again.

This story idea has been floating around my head for a long time! I only have a couple chapters written, but it's been an interesting one to play around with. Peter Parker or 'SPY-DER' is a decommissioned Hydra killing machine created by none other than Richard and Mary Parker. In Tony's excitement to apply the Ultron program to his Iron Legion, he accidentally wakes up not one, but two murder bots.

Please, Don't be Cruel | Hannigram Fic

Hannibal stopped scrubbing the dishes, his hands hidden beneath the soapy water, and Will was oblivious to the knife hidden beneath the surface.

He misinterpreted Hannibal’s silence for guilt and he sighed, leaning against the man’s arm to convey that he wasn’t mad at him. Will said, “I just don’t want Jack to get any wrong ideas, okay? I would hate for you to go to jail because of a stupid pun.”

“Just to clarify, you’re talking about me being…”

“The Chesapeake Ripper.”

“Ah…”

-

Will thinks that he and Hannibal are in a relationship. Hannibal thinks that he and Will are just close friends. Will also thinks that Hannibal knows that he knows that he's the Chesapeake Ripper.

Read it on ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63826561

🌾WELCOME TO MY CREATIVE GARDEN!🌾

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ABOUT ME :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧ ▸ Name: Katya (she/her) | Age: 19 | Surviving student ▸ Languages: Russian (native) → English (actively learning - looking for beta readers!)

📚 MY PLATFORMS 📚 ◈ AO3 → Garden_Secret (English works) ◈ Ficbook → Окрашенный Ангел (Russian works)

❗ IMPORTANT RULES ❗ 1️⃣ Copyright: → It is forbidden to re-upload my works to other platforms. → Translations: Only with my permission (but I'm loyal if you indicate the author!). → Podfics/Dramatic Readings: Always welcome! (Just tag me)

2️⃣ Post suggestions (arts/memes/playlists/headcanons): → Only content based on my fanfics, sometimes fandom stuff (indicate the link to the work). → Required: your nickname or the note "anonymous".

3️⃣ Feedback: → Comments = my motivation! 💫 → Criticism: Acceptable if polite and constructive. Respect yourself and others.

💌 LET'S BE FRIENDS! 💌 ▸ I love: music, character discussions, your creative response! ▸ Need help: If you want to be a beta reader for my English works, write to me! (Please) ▸ Open to questions and suggestions (check the rules above).

(Reminder: asks and submissions are enabled!)

🌾THANKS FOR LOOKING BY! 🌾 Your support is priceless - every comment and art warms my writing spirit!

You can read on AO3, or here gang idc

---

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Fandom:

DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)

Relationship:

None

Characters:

Mark Beaks, Coach Beaks

Additional Tags:

Blood and Injury, Blood, Blood and Gore

Language:

English

Stats:

Published:2025-03-09Words:1,020Chapters:1/1Comments:1Kudos:2Hits:6

Can't think of a title holy shit

1anon1

Summary:

...

Notes:

⚠️ BLOOD WARNING ⚠️ So this ain't canon like at all. I wrote this at 3am don't judge.

Work Text:

“I kept telling you to hit the ball—to hit the ball!” Coach Beaks' voice thundered through the empty locker room as he yanked Marcus’s arm. “But every time you try, you miss!”

Marcus struggled against his grip, but it was no use. His father’s fingers dug into his sleeve, his frustration boiling over. With a sharp shove, he pushed Marcus against the cold concrete wall.

“I thought I told you to actually participate in the game!”

Marcus winced, the sting of his father’s words cutting deeper than the rough impact against his back. He lowered his gaze, his voice barely a whisper. “I-I’m sorry, Father…” he murmured. But the apology hadn't even left his lips before his father’s voice crashed over him again. “‘Sorry’ isn’t gonna cut it, young man!” He pinched the bridge of his beak. “God, you're such a disappointment.”

…

There was a brief pause. Mark covered his head with his hands, his chest tight as tears threatened to spill, but he blinked them back fiercely. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold it together. Coach put a hand on his chin thoughtfully. “You know,” he mumbled, “we’ve used the bat for practice and in games… Wait here, Marcus.”

Marcus didn’t move an inch. He kept his head down, his breath shaky as his father’s footsteps echoed across the tile floor. His chest felt tight, his stomach twisted in knots. Wait here. The words hung in the air, heavy with something unspoken. Then came the sound—metal scraping against metal. A locker opening. A pause. The unmistakable clink of a wooden bat being lifted.

Marcus swallowed hard. His pulse quickened.

Mark looked up when he didn’t hear his dad's footsteps anymore.

Without hesitation, he swung.

The bat struck Marcus hard across the ribs. A sickening thud echoed through the locker room. Marcus gasped as white-hot pain exploded through his side. He crumpled to the floor, clutching his ribs, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

“You wanna cry now?” his father sneered, looming over him. He tapped the bat against the floor, impatient. “Get up.”

Marcus tried. His arms shook as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, but his body screamed in protest. His ribs ached with every shallow breath.

“I said get up.”

Another strike. This time across his shoulder. Marcus collapsed again with a sharp cry, his vision blurring as pain overtook him.

“Pathetic,” Coach Beaks muttered. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his beak in frustration. He turned and tossed the bat back into the open locker with a loud clang.

“Clean yourself up before you go home,” he said coldly. “And don’t let your mother find out about this… This won’t be the last time, either.” He rolled his eyes.

With that, he walked out, leaving Marcus curled up on the locker room floor, his body shaking, his breath uneven, and his father’s words burning deeper than the bruises forming beneath his feathers. He was left there, crying and alone.

After a while, he finally managed to sit up. He leaned against the wall, his breath shallow, and coughed weakly.

Marcus sat there, his back pressed against the cold concrete wall, gasping for air. A sharp cough wracked his body. He raised a hand to his mouth, feeling something warm on his tongue. When he pulled his hand away, dark red stained his feathers.

Blood.

His stomach twisted, but he forced himself to stay calm. He pulled his knees up to his chest and cried silently, his face pressed into his arms. His tears, once on the verge of spilling, now flowed freely as his body trembled. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pain to subside, but it lingered—throbbing deep in his ribs and shoulder.

Minutes passed. Maybe more.

He slowly brought his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes, trying to wipe away the tears.

Finally, Marcus swallowed hard and forced himself to move. His limbs protested, his ribs screaming with every shift, but he grit his teeth and pushed forward. He needed to get up. He couldn’t stay here. If anyone saw him like this—if his mother found out

Marcus shook his head. No. He had to pull himself together.

With trembling hands, he reached for the nearby bench, using it for support as he dragged himself to his feet. His vision swam, his legs threatening to give out beneath him, but he steadied himself. One breath at a time. One step at a time.

He wiped his mouth, trying to ignore the taste of iron that lingered in his throat.

FLASH.

"Focus, Beaks," he muttered to himself under his breath.

He slowly raised his head from his arms. Was he…

He looked around—his office. His desk. His computer, flashing with the latest figures.

It was all right there. The world he’d built. The world he owned.

The office door opened as a duck with her hair in a messy bun, wearing a black skirt suit and heels, knocked on the door. “Mr. Beaks? The board is ready to see… you…” she paused when she saw his state. “Mr. Beaks? Are you alright?”

Mark rubbed his face, brushing away the lingering fog of the dark memory. "Y-Yeah. I'm okay," he murmured, blinking again. "Just a little trip down memory lane. Nothing to worry about. I'll be there in a second, Melanie." He forced a quick, reassuring smile.

She hesitated, her eyes lingering on him, but she nodded. “Right. Ready when you are.”

Without another word, she shut the door behind her, her footsteps descending until the sound of them faded, leaving Marcus alone in his office once again. The only noise now was the faint hum of traffic outside.

He sat in his chair for a moment, staring down at his hands. The urge to cry bubbled up again, but he pushed it away with a heavy sigh. He stood and headed for the door, the sound of his talons clicking against the tile floor echoing in the silence.

He was Mark Beaks. And nothing was going to bring him down. Not anymore… Right?

I literally love connecting with authors on their work- writing and editing fics can get very hectic sometimes. Love on your authors yall!! Forming human connection is the purpose of life!! Giving love is important!!

Fun Story to Share.

I got my (now 18-year-old) daughter into Ao3 back in 2021. I taught her she should always comment - even if the fic looks old or abandoned or whatever. She did.

Well - she got this email this morning:

The fic was written in 2014 and essentially abandoned.

Bethy read and reviewed in 2021 (and was actually the only person who had commented at all).

Today in 2025 - the final chapter was posted by the author and this was her reply to Bethy’s comment.

———

Never question whether a fic is too old to comment on.

Ok serious post. How do I outwit the AO3 curse? Because my desire to write is being suppressed by my inability to handle another fucking curve ball from life and I’m too scared to even look at my fix without fearing yet another disaster. Genuinely how do you write without being shot 57 times? Like do I have to make a sacrifice? Is there a special prayer? I’ll do anything at this point.

second chapter of Flesh & Bone is out!

here's what Aki looks like to divinity, yokai, and anything else that is Other

(picrew is 쏘세디야채볶음, i edited the eyes and cropped it)

I'll update aki soon...

I swear, i just gotta make myself write some exposition and add in a few details....

then wait for the beta to be done w mid finals...

soon.. i promisse...

I made moar picrews,, but not more paragrafs :((

[Kemo Witch Maker, fzn picrew]

and bam! the homemade blorbo is set free into the internet! *ੈ✩‧₊˚

A young couple prayed at a shrine, as is tradition during the festival. They asked for the chance to have a strong and healthy child.

Meanwhile, at the same time, in a very different place, a group of teenagers stood around a circle drawn in the dirt, fumbling through chants in a language they didn't understand, as is normal for a typical slumber party. Boredom often led to strange activities.

The young couple, universes away, didn't quite specify they were planning for that child to be birthed naturally from the woman. Why should they? It was obvious what they meant, and really, what other way was there?

The teenagers, centuries ahead, didn't even know what they were saying. It was a dead language! And besides, no one thought it would actually work. Beyond maybe the wind blowing a little stronger, what else should they expect to happen?

Screaming. That's what happened. On both ends.

so close to publishing first chap of Aki!! ♡☆

naming things is so hard T^T like wdym I need to compress all the vibes into a few words??