MHA Tweets Pt.17 💛

The urge to bother my mutuals

for the last prompt:

“Don’t touch those books, sweetie. They have souls.”

Miranda hesitated with her fingers poised over a golden spine. 

“Excuse me?” she asked, wide-eyed and more than a little fearful. 

The librarian simply rolled her eyes, adjusting the hem of her coffee-colored sweater. “Did you not read the danger signs we passed?” 

Slowly, Miranda lowered her hands and laced them behind her back. “Thought that was another of Dougie’s pranks,” she murmured quietly. 

The librarian sighed.

“Miss Pickery-"

“I still don’t know why you hired my brother,” Miranda interrupted, eyes slipping back to the shiny, golden book she had been tempted to pull off the shelf. “He’s not exactly…bookish. Or terribly employable.”

“Well, he doesn’t attempt to touch the books with souls, for one,” the librarian replied. 

Miranda pressed her lips together firmly, attention slipping guiltily to the carpeted floor and catching on an oblong stain that the librarian gestured to with the toe of her heeled boot.

“And he doesn’t suffer the consequences of such misbehavior like my previous apprentice, Ronald.”

Miranda couldn’t help the startled gasp that left her as she drew her arms closer to the center of her body, head whipping back and forth in the narrow aisle to ensure no part of her was near any part of these…these murdering, soul-having books.  

Seriously, if Miranda had known about Ronald the Oblong Stain when she’d received her brother’s stupid email about checking out his “cool new job”, Miranda would have deleted it without a second thought. Unread, unreplied to, and un…un-in danger, Miranda thought sternly. 

The librarian frowned back at her, all sharp featured and unimpressed, like she was privy to Miranda’s imaginary word making.  

“U-um, so where is Dougie, anyway, Miss?”

“Late,” the librarian replied. She raised her right wrist to peer at a square watch wrapped over her sweater sleeve, the arms curved like octopus tentacles and spinning far faster than the plain, round one on Miranda’s own wrist. “Or perhaps early, depending.”

“Depending on what?”

“Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be conversing with Ronald, instead,” the librarian murmured to herself, causing a deep frown to appear over Miranda’s face. 

Oblong Stain-Man, one. Miranda, zero. 

“Well, he invited me here,” Miranda petulantly reminded the woman. “I’m still not sure why, but I doubt it was to kill me so is it possible for us to wait for him in a different section of the library? Maybe one without, you know, danger signs?”

The librarian gave Miranda a swift once-over, then peered up at the ceiling, expression unchanging. 

“No. Here will do.”

“Oh, okay,” Miranda whispered shakily. “I’ll just stay here and try not to turn into goo, then.”

“Oh, pish posh,” the librarian dismissed, waving her hand in the air. “That Evelyn has much more flare than that. She would have ignited you, most definitely.”

“E-Evelyn?” Miranda repeated, peering behind herself for other, potentially-murderous library patrons. Perhaps one carrying a blowtorch.

“The book you were going to touch,” the librarian explained. “She has quite a flair for the dramatic, that girl. Your death would have been very phoenix-like.”

Miranda eyed the golden-spined book with far more wariness than before. 

“Phoenix-like…” she echoed. “Like…as in I’d come back to life?”

The librarian’s nose scrunched. “As in you’d go up in a spark of flames and crumble to ash before you could say-”

“Mimi!” Dougie called out happily, appearing in a cart-like contraption over their heads. Dougie tugged gently on a hanging rope within his cart and the whole thing slowed to a squeaky stop.

Miranda eyed the small cylinder of metal attaching the cart to the track embedded in the ceiling with open skepticism. 

“Took ya long enough,” he said, smiling. 

“Took me-?!” Miranda began to sputter, only to be silenced by a hand from the librarian. 

“Douglas,” she greeted calmly. “Anything to report?”

Dougie’s smile turned slightly bashful, and he scratched the back of his head. “Not yes, Miss. But with Mimi here, things should be fixed in a snap!” 

“I fucking hate that name,” Miranda muttered darkly beneath her breath.

“Quit whining, girl,” the librarian said, not unkindly. “It’s time to go.” 

“Please,” Miranda agreed, quickly ascending the thin, metal stairs that had stretched out from Dougie’s cart like a particularly slow accordion. She would happily go anywhere to get away from Evelyn and Ronald and who knows who else. 

The librarian followed quickly after. 

“Where are we going?” Miranda asked, cringing at the grating noise emanating from the ceiling as the cart rocked jerkily back into motion. “To lunch?”

Dougie’s email had promised lunch. 

“Uhhh, not to lunch,” Dougie admitted, ignoring Miranda’s heavily disappointed sigh. “We need you to fix something, actually.”

“And it’s not a sandwich?” Miranda pressed hopefully. 

“Sorry, sis,” Dougie laughed. “It’s…uh, well it’s a little bit bigger than that.”

“These swinging death cages, then?” she tried next. Because they could use some serious oiling, but otherwise seemed mostly stable. Even if the eccentric design didn’t invite anything but distrust. 

Dougie pulled on the rope again as they entered a new room and Miranda brought her hands up to cover her ears while she peered curiously over the edge of the cart, still hoping in vain for a cafe or a bistro. 

What she saw instead was a massive, boiler-looking thing, with moving arms on just about every square inch of its rusting, bronze surface, rounded caps lifting periodically to release hissing trails of white steam. 

What really caught her attention, though, was the small door built into its base, boasting a massive dent and an odd array of talon-like scratches along its surface. And one scrawled out word. 

Miranda Pickery. 

“...well,” Miranda said slowly, hands falling to her hips as she quietly examined the structure. “Surely I’m not the only Miranda Pickery in the area. Total coincidence, really.”

The librarian’s wrinkly hand landed on Miranda’s shoulder, her other pointing towards the far end of the boiler room. 

Miranda followed her gaze to a large, hand-painted mural spanning the entire length of the flaking wall. The figures were all done in black, or perhaps a very deep blue, and nearly impossible to make out in the dim space. The orange light from the boiler only illuminated the lowest section, where there were rows and rows of what looked like people, carrying stacks of what looked like books, and a few, hanging, claw-like feet that suggested an array of birds above their heads. 

The librarian clapped and the space flooded with blue light. Hovering orbs lined the room like street lamps- above the boiler but below the cart- revealing a concerning amount of bookshelves lining this room, too. 

A concerning amount of bookshelves and Miranda’s likeness, that is, painted in the very center of the mural with such detail that any hopes of pawning off this mystery onto some other hapless sod immediately wilted and died within her heart. 

“Oh,” Miranda said dumbly. 

“Oh,” the librarian agreed. 

“So…” Dougie started, awkwardly clapping his hands together. “Lunch, anyone?”

WRITING PROMPTS - Library

A 24/7 library has no staff, but those who enter never think to steal.

"We can't make out! This is a library!"

A magical university has a library that changes its contents entirely whenever it hits midnight.

"Shh! Reading time."

A library is the only building unaffected by a massive earthquake.

"Where did you get that book?"

A group of academics decide they want to be buried alive in the cursed library that the government are burying.

"Don't touch those books, sweetie. They have souls."

hi!!! you already know how much i love love love ur mha twitter series (and if not, i will remedy this IMMDEDIATELY bc i always have so much fun reading them) so i have to ask: is there any character you have the most fun writing/portraying? hope ur having a nice day!!!

hi!!!! this is a super hard one to answer bc I love the class 1-a cast sm in general, so it’s really fun to write for all of them, but I think the Bakusquad might be my fav group to portray interacting with each other and as far as individuals…I’d prob have to go with denki, deku, and ochako! maaaybe koda as a bonus, too

Tysm for the ask, ant! Hope you’re having a nice day as well <333 (just for u I started making some halloween tweets that should be up later today/tomorrow)

omg ur writing is so good like how have i never heard of u before

-seafloor509 (im asking anon bc if i ask regularly itll show up as smth else and i dont want that)

(also u liked my ONE ONLY post so i came and found u and like ong ur writing is so t a s t e f u l)

thanks so much!! that really made my day :,)

and yes i remember your piece! i really enjoyed reading it. you have a strong voice and the atmosphere was really interesting

Hey! Saw your post about giving you prompts ^^ I hope it’s not too bad (first time doing this in my life and I’m an anxious blond head so-)

The prompt is:

Midoriya Izuku + chronic pain (is this a headcanon? I don’t know what’s canon or not anymore) + AU where he’s in a romantic with Katsuki/Shoto/both

I hope it is what you wanted! I know it is pretty simple but I didn’t want to go too overboard for my first prompt. Love your works 💚

Thanks sm for the prompt!! I recognize your user and i'm super flattered that you enjoy my stuff! Chronic pain Izuku is a great headcanon :)

Hope you like it <3

500 words | Deku + chronic pain + bktddk

“So, what’s this?” Uraraka asks, with the air of someone who knows exactly what this is but wants to force Izuku through the mortifying ordeal of explaining it anyway. 

Izuku cringes and closes his eyes. 

Todoroki, immune to embarrassment, says, “We’re massaging Midoriya’s arms.”

Kacchan, immune to social pressure, doesn’t even bother to respond. 

Izuku, caught between two very warm, very close bodies, alternates between melting at the gentle way they knead out the pain from his aching muscles and fidgeting nervously. 

“While practically in his lap?” Uraraka presses. “Both of you?”

And Kacchan and Todoroki do both have a leg tossed over Izuku’s. 

For leverage. Obviously. 

Izuku peeks open one eye, trying to psychically beg Uraraka to stop asking questions and just let him have this. 

“You’re overworking yourself,” Kacchan mutters, displeased and using his quirk to massage a particularly sore finger joint. 

They're practically holding hands.

“Uh huh,” Izuku responds intelligently. 

“Dumbfuck,” Kacchan chastises, flicking his temple. “Listen to me.”

Izuku draws in a sharp breath as Todoroki’s chin comes to rest gently on his other shoulder. 

“He’s right, you know.”

“Don’t…” Izuku starts, falling silent when Todoroki’s thumb presses distractingly against Izuku’s palm. 

Then Kacchan’s temple falls carefully against Izuku’s, breath warm across his cheek, and Izuku tries his best to remember the rest of his sentence. 

“Don’t…um…inflate his ego, Todoroki-kun.” 

Kacchan uses his head to press the three of them closer together, less gently than before, knocking Izuku's skull into Todoroki’s. Three peas in a pod. 

“I don’t get ego-stroking privileges?”  

Izuku laughs nervously. 

“No?”

Todoroki hums. 

“I think Midoriya is a little distracted at the moment.”

Izuku shakes his head. “Not distracted,” he promises. “Just…uh. I'm just…um...”

“Just convinced you two haven’t been hitting on him all year,” Uraraka finishes, voice a conspiratorial whisper, before moving away to the kitchen. 

Izuku can’t help the startled noise that escapes him when two pairs of soft lips press against his cheeks. 

“Get the message yet, nerd?”  

Izuku pauses with an honest answer on his lips and swallows it back down, face growing hot, because if this is real (and all the signs suggested it was) then, 

“…no.”

“No?” Todoroki repeats.

Izuku squeezes his eyes shut. Nervously, he mumbles, “Might have to make it clearer.”

His little stunt is rewarded with a pleased rumble from Kacchan- now nosing at his temple, lips skating achingly close to Izuku's skin in a not-quite kiss- and Todoroki sliding further onto Izuku’s lap.

They’re both still massaging his arms. Izuku hasn't been thinking about the pain for quite a while, though. 

“I don’t know how we could be clearer,” Todoroki says and the heat and the closeness and the genuine concern for his well being must be melting Izuku’s brain because he blurts out, 

“Kiss me.”

It’s worth it, though, for the way they dip down and finally give him what he’s been dreaming about. Ten times sweeter than any whispered, late-night wish. 

"But don't go thinking you call the shots, nerd."

Sogo held his breath, eyes shut tight as the scissors approached his head.

There was a quiet snip. Then another. Gentle fingers. Falling hair.

Not a single ounce of pain

-from cut away the rot (on ao3)

How the gentle wind, beckons through the leaves~

I think that there's a feeling that, if you start writing something and don't finish it, it's a failure.

As someone who has far more unfinished pieces than finished pieces (sorry to anyone who reads my stuff on AO3), here are a few good things about doing this:

First, all writing is practice. Just like there are reasons to sketch and do practice drawings, writing even unfinished pieces builds your skills in drafting sentences, characterization, voice, tone, and even working in a variety of styles. If you start a story in a new style, even if you never finish it, you have some experience in that style now.

It can also tell you what you love or hate about something. Sometimes you don't finish something because you realize you don't like it. That knowledge is also valuable.

Second, you can always go back to unfinished work. The main novel that I'm querying right now is one where I wrote the first couple thousand words and then didn't touch it again for probably at least a year and a half. It's now a finished novel.

Sometimes you need space away from a story to make it work. Sometimes you need to improve your writing skills to be able to accomplish whatever you were trying to accomplish then. Sometimes you need a mental or physical health break or you just need more time in the day before you can finish something.

Third, writing is fun and you shouldn't hold yourself or your sense of success at writing to how many stories you finish. Did you enjoy yourself even for the period of time that you wrote whatever you wrote? Did you end up with something cool, interesting, fun, exciting, weird, or different? Great, that's all a victory.

MHA 430 spoilers (4)

I love that Dai referred to Bakugou as “Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight” in his head. Like yes, pls use his full government name

MHA 430 spoilers

It’s so important to me that Deku got to say the words he wanted to hear so badly as a kid. He wanted to save people with a smile like All Might and here he does. He surpasses All Might, actually, and not because of a quirk or his strength but because he has a heroic heart and mha has always been about discovering what it really means to be a hero.