Public Nuisance Nr.1

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@genocidalbbg
Public Nuisance Nr.1

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It's this loser's birthday!!!
Stick by me, close by me
by genocidalbbg on ao3
âIâll keep you safe.â Eiji whispers once heâs sure Ash is asleep, the words barely louder than a breath, as if saying them too firmly might disturb the fragile peace thatâs finally settled over the room. âYouâve protected me way too many times. Let me return the favor, just this once.â
His fingers pause in Ashâs hair, lingering against the soft strands as he looks down at him.
The tension that usually carves itself into every inch of Ashâs face has smoothed out, but it hasnât disappeared entirely.
His lashes are damp, clumped together from crying, and there are faint trails of dried tears on his cheeks that glint faintly in the filtered morning light. His lips are parted, slightly chapped.
He looks young like this. Not just younger, but untouched, almost, like someone who might have grown up differently. Someone who might have laughed more and fought less.
Eiji feels a pressure rise in his chest, something between heartbreak and tenderness, as he takes in the way Ashâs entire body seems to trust him enough to fall apart and fall asleep in the same breath. That kind of trust is rare. Sacred. Itâs more than Eiji feels worthy of, and yet, he cradles it with both hands.
He traces the outline of Ashâs jaw with his eyes, the curve of his cheek, gone red and swollen from tears that had come too fast, too suddenly, after being held back for too long.
The streaks remain dried along his face, a map of everything he tries not to feel, not to show. Eiji wantsâachefully, irrationallyâto erase them, like that might somehow undo the reasons theyâre there in the first place.
For a fleeting second, heâs caught by the silent urge to press a kiss against the tear-streaked skin of Ashâs cheek. He almost leans in.
Almost.
Read the rest of the fic here:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Taking Fic Requests!!!
Hey! Iâm opening up fic requests that Iâll be writing and posting on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/users/genocidalbbg
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Fandoms Iâm writing for:
- My Hero Academia
- Banana Fish
- Attack on Titan
- Jujutsu Kaisen
- The Summer Hikaru Died
- Marvel (specifically the MCU)
Iâm down to write about your OCs too.
Feel free to send me:
- A pairing or a character
- A general vibe/scenario/prompt (as specific or vague as you want)
- Anything self-indulgent or emotionally devastating (encouragedđ)
- Tropes, AUs, songs, dialogue snippets, etc.
Iâm pretty open to writing almost anything (angst, fluff, smut, hurt/comfort, dark themes, omegaverse, etc.), and Iâll just let you know if thereâs something Iâm not comfortable committing to.
You can send requests via:
- Tumblr asks
- DMs
- By replying to this post
Iâll write what speaks to me the most, so not everything might get done, but Iâd love to see what ideas you have!!!
I hc little Ash doing this

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reblog if youâre okay with people writing fanfics of your fanfics and/or fanfics inspired by your fanfics
NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.
The thing nobody tells you is that you can just write down that one scene you've been replaying in your head with no connections to anything. You don't have to wait until the plot get there or until you come up with the rest of the story around it that makes that scene makes sense. You can just write that one scene.
you are so right
âships should at least make sense.â no. ships can make sense, sure. but theyâre just fictional characters we play with for fun. theyâre fantasies, not a fucking thesis paper. so no, they donât always have to make sense. they just have to make you happy (or horny).
let people enjoy (fictional) things however they want to enjoy.
it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.
it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.
it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.
it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.
it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.
IT MAY TAKE ME A MONTH TO PUT OUT A CHAPTER BUT AT LEAST IM NOT USING AI TO WRITE IT

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Fanfiction writers be like:
"here's the immensely time consuming 100K word novel-length passion project I'm working on between my real life job and family! It eats up hundreds of hours of my one and only life, causes me emotional harm, and I gain basically nothing from it! Also I put it on the internet for free so anyone can read if they want. Hope you love it!" :)
made me think of them.
Peace, at Last
It happens to me quite often, seeing people call Ashâs death a suicide. Saying that he wanted to die, that in some way, he chose it.
And honestly, I find myself agreeing with them. At least a little.
Ash was tired. God, he was so tired. Not just in his body, but down to his soulâtired in a way that no amount of sleep, safety, or even love could fully heal. He had fought for so long, survived for so long, clawed his way out of hell again and again, only to find that peace was always just a little bit further, just a little bit out of reach. Even when freedom was right there, he was too exhausted to chase after it anymore.
I donât think Ash sought death in the traditional sense. I donât think it was hopelessness, exactly. I donât think it was the desperate self-destruction of someone who wanted to disappear, nor was it despair.
It was surrender.
It was laying down his sword, finally, after a lifetime of fighting battles that no boy, no teenager, no person should have ever had to fight. It was choosing, in those final moments, to sit with Eijiâs letterâthe one thing in his whole life that had been purely goodâand letting it be enough. Letting himself be enough, for once.
It wasnât about giving up in bitterness. It wasnât about hatred. It was a kind of soft resignation. After everything, he was finally giving himself permission to stop.
Ashâs death wasnât just another act of violence. It wasnât another defeat. It wasnât just loss. It was, in its quietest way, an act of reclaiming. Reclaiming even the smallest shred of agency that the world had ripped from his hands over and over again.
It was Ash, who had been used, hunted, abandoned, and brutalized, finally deciding: This is where I stop. This is enough.
And noâit doesnât make it fair. It doesnât undo the tragedy of it. It doesnât make the grief any easier to carry.
But itâs comforting, in a way, to think that at least in those final moments, he had a choice. Maybe not in how or when or why the end came. But in the way he met it.
Weâll never really know what was going through Ashâs head when he chose to stay in that library instead of calling for help. Weâll never know if he even had a real chance of surviving, or if the wound Lao gave him was already fatal, something no ambulance could have saved him from.
But what we do know is what he chose to do with the time he had left.
He chose peace.
He chose to stop.
He chose to hold onto love, instead of fear.
And in a life that had been defined by cruelty, by survival, by endless brutal choices made for himâthat one, tiny choice? That mattered.
That was everything.
my dream as a fanfic writer is for one day, one of my fics to be someones comfort fic. like the fic that they reread when they don't feel good and want to be happy. i want my words to comfort someone one day
âhow did you get into writingâ girl nobody gets into writing. writing shows up one day at your door and gets into you
"how did you get into writing" girl i've been tormented by the visions since i was eight years old

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two sides of the same coin