Currently Looking For Someone To Beta-read Some Of My I7 Stuff, So Lmk If You’re Interested!

here's a list of books I've read and would recommend as well as books from my to-read list for Pride Month!

A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers: a solarpunk novella that discusses existential purpose from the perspective of a nonbinary narrator who meets a sentient robot years after robots decided to stop working and disappear into the wilderness. A great read that I found very soothing!

We Are The Ants by Shaun David Hutchinson: a YA sci-fi novel that follows a grieving high-schooler who gets routinely abducted by aliens. I read this one in the eight grade and as a kid who was unknowingly struggling with depression and had just learned that the word 'bisexual' existed, this was a pretty important read for me so even though I haven't read it in years it deserves an honorary place. CW: past suicide of the narrator's bf

Burning Roses by S.L Huang: a novella that combines European fairytales and Chinese mythology. It follows two middle-aged queer women as they reflect on their lives and chase down a deadly threat together. Told largely in flashback, I found this story very hopeful.

Blue Period (manga & anime) by Tsubasa Yamaguchi: had to toss this one in here as I adore BP. While not a romantic story, BP is about the discovery of artistic passion and the highs and lows of pursuing what makes you feel alive (and I find it to be relatable, refreshing, and inspiring tbh). In volumes 1-6 (and the anime), a secondary, genderqueer character has a fairly prominent storyline, told largely via the main character's changing perceptions of them. If you do give it a watch, I personally feel that the sub version hits harder.

In the Lives of Puppets by TJ Klune: I'm very excited to read this one (i love me some sentient robots lol) and have high hopes for the emotional depth. Here's the first bit of the synopsis. "Deep in the heart of a peculiar forest, in a strange little home built into the branches of trees, is a family assembled from spare parts: three robots- fatherly inventor android Giovanni Lawson, a pleasantly sadistic nurse machine, a small vacuum desperate for love and attention- and a human, Victor Lawson."

The Dark Tide by Alicia Jasinska: Google says it's a gripping, dark sapphic YA fantasy about two girls who must choose between saving themselves, each other, or their sinking island home. I love to see sapphic rep and truly hope this book delivers!

Feel free to drop more recs in the comments or share your thoughts about the books on this list!

Are you caught up on MHA? If so, could you write something with Katsuki and Izuku talking some more after the war (follow up to their conversation in CH424)?

Yes, I'm all caught up! Sorry this one took so long, but I hope you enjoy it!

Author's note: it starts a little mushy but this could be read as platonic bakugou & izuku or pre-slash bkdk, whatever you fancy. there's nothing explicitly romantic but they are very important to each other and i find that so charming! lol anyways, 1,866 words, mha manga spoilers ahead. happy reading!

Izuku could recognize Kacchan in the dark. He knew the shape of his voice, the scent of his sweat, the spark-crackle-pop of his quirk. Izuku knew the feel of Kacchan’s hands on his shoulder. In his hair. On his back. 

Izuku knew him bloodied and unmoving on the ground.

It’s a relief, Izuku thinks, to know him now by the sound of a rolling IV stand. 

“The nurse told you not to walk around so much, Kacchan.”

The rolling in the hallway slams to a sudden halt and Izuku imagines that Kacchan is annoyed at being caught. Then it starts up again at a slightly faster pace and Izuku hardly has the time to smile before Kacchan’s scowling figure passes through the doorway to Izuku’s hospital room. 

“You put a fucking tracking chip on me or something?” he complains. 

“Kacchan,” Izuku protests- weakly, he’ll admit- joy and relief jumping to take control of his brain at the sight of Kacchan, alive- but it’s the attempt that counts. 

“‘S not even that fuckin far,” Kacchan replies, the tinny chik-chik-chik of squeaky wheels on tile following him across the floor before he settles himself in the visitor’s chair beside Izuku’s cot. “The view’s better in here, anyway.”

Izuku hums, turning his gaze beyond Kacchan’s swaying IV bag to All Might’s empty cot. The retired hero goes to physical therapy on Thursday afternoons, now, and every time the doctors take off one of his casts or bandages, Izuku feels like he can breathe a little easier. 

“That’s true.”

Izuku doesn’t think the sight of All Might will ever not be comforting to him. 

Kacchan clicks his tongue in annoyance and presses one finger against Izuku’s unbandaged cheek, turning his head. 

“I’m talking about the fucking window, fanboy.”

Izuku startles, a small laugh falling from his lips as he obligingly turns towards the window instead. A few tree branches gently brush against the glass and in the distance he can make out the big silver fountain that rests in the middle of the hospital’s courtyard.  

“Oh, yeah that’s nice, too,” Izuku agrees absentmindedly. He’s not sure what Kacchan can see from his own hospital room but he’s pretty sure it’s not much different from this one. 

Kacchan shifts like he wants to cross his arms, then scowls and starts tapping his nails against the armrest instead with a huff.

Izuku watches the steady rise and fall of Kacchan’s chest, unsure if he should say anything. Unsure why Kacchan keeps coming to his room in the first place. 

Two days ago, Kacchan had muttered something about how being in Izuku’s room made it harder for his mom to track him down and nag him and the week before it was because he had beef with the nurse on duty and wanted to make her life difficult.

But even after a lifetime of analyzing Kacchan, all Izuku can really discern now is that there’s something more pulling Kacchan to the plastic chair by Izuku’s bedside. 

Izuku hates the not-knowing. He thinks he’d hate it more, though, if Kacchan got what he needed and stopped sneaking out to visit him, so he stays quiet. 

Childishly, he wants to poke Kacchan back but both of his arms are still mummified and unusable so he contents himself with imagining it. 

“The fuck are you smiling about?”

“Nothing,” Izuku lies, gazing happily at Kacchan’s familiar scowl. “You’ll get wrinkles, Kacchan.”

Kacchan narrows his eyes. 

“You’ll get a fist in your face.”

“You’ll get knuckle pain.”

Kacchan scoffs. “Think your face is made of steel or something? When did you start acting like hot shit, huh?”

“Probably since they started pumping me full of pain meds,” Izuku admits, grinning. “Makes me feel steel-y.”

Kacchan rolls his eyes. “Unbelievable.”

“It’s not as strong as the stuff they had to put All Might on, though,” Izuku continues seriously. “After his surgery, he told me the same story about fighting an American villain with David Shield seven times in a row.”

Kacchan smirks. “And I bet you ate that shit up.”

Izuku flushes and turns his gaze towards the ceiling. “Sometimes the details would change,” he defends. 

When Kacchan doesn’t respond, Izuku shifts his gaze back and watches on as Kacchan wrestles with his inability to cross his arms again. Izuku really doesn’t want Kacchan to leave, but…

“Kacchan, if you’re in pain maybe you should-”

“Shitty Hair said we should talk,” Kacchan interrupts. 

Izuku fights to sit up straighter in his cot, confused. “Kirishima did?”

He’s grateful when Kacchan doesn’t rush to help him. Doesn’t help him at all, actually, which soothes the constant drone of quirkless-helpless-quirkless that Izuku’s been trying to drown in his subconscious lately. 

Izuku hesitates before he bites the bullet. 

“...talk about what?”

Izuku’s not sure if it’s a good sign or a bad one that Kacchan seems equally, if not more, uncomfortable. 

“...our conversation,” Kacchan finally spits out. “The one we had here.”

These past few weeks, they’ve had a lot of conversations in Izuku and All Might’s shared little hospital room. Most of them pointless. Some of them sweet. 

It doesn’t take a genius to know what Kacchan’s referring to, though, and it’s exactly the thing that Izuku would rather leave buried and brushed past so he focuses on Kacchan’s forehead instead of his bullshit-piercing eyes and says, 

“Yeah, it was really nice to be recognized by All Might, right? Like, next level awesome. I don’t think I’ll ever emotionally recover from that, actually. I think I was smiling in my sleep that whole-”

“Izuku,” Kacchan says, and it cuts through him like a knife. 

“Hm?”

“Cut the crap,” Kacchan says, his glare fading into something softer and more uncertain. “We have shit we have to talk about.”

Izuku gnaws on his bottom lip, uncertain enough to harden his resolve and force out a nervous laugh. The nerves are genuine, anyway.

“I don’t know what you’re-”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Kacchan demands, quietly dangerous. Then he rises from his chair with a scoff. “This is fucking stupid! Why won’t you-?” Kacchan starts to shout, before letting his anger fall from him with one, deep exhale, leaving behind only weariness and a shadow of what looks like resignation.

It looks wrong on Kacchan’s face. 

“Fine,” Kacchan sighs. “Whatever. If that’s how you’re gonna be then I’m fucking outta here.”

“I-” Izuku catches one glimpse of Kacchan’s back and his hardened resolve collapses like a child's toy tower. “Wait, wait no! Kacchan, I’m sorry! I’m- I’m sorry. We can talk about…it. About what you want, just please don’t...”

“Wasn’t gonna leave forever,” Kacchan mutters, not quite facing Izuku but not walking towards the door, either. 

Izuku tastes salt on his lips before he even realizes he’s crying. “Promise?”

Kacchan’s head whips around so quickly Izuku can’t help but imagine that he’d pulled on some invisible string. 

“I’m not fucking leaving you,” Kacchan says, voice angry and honest in a way that soothes the awful pang in Izuku’s chest that the doctors have assured him isn’t physical. “This is why we need to talk, you stupid nerd.”

Izuku hiccups and nods, releasing slow streams of breath from his mouth until he feels he has his voice under control.

Kacchan moves back into the chair, alternating between watching him and the monitors still hooked up to Izuku’s vitals.

“I’m…I’m okay,” Izuku finally says. 

“I’m not,” Kacchan replies bluntly. “Lie to me again and I’ll break your stupid skull.”

Izuku freezes, then lets himself sink morosely into the pillow behind him. “Sorry,” he whispers. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Kacchan scolds. “Be honest.”

Izuku darts a considering glance towards Kacchan, but he seems sincere, so Izuku murmurs, “You sound kind of like a preschool teacher right now.”

Kacchan jolts under the observation, clearly not expecting it. Then he regains his bearings and jabs a finger in front of Izuku’s nose. “Then stop acting like a guilty little snot-nosed runt!”   

“...Okay.”

“Okay.”

“What…now?” Izuku asks.

Kacchan sighs deeply through his nose, slumping back in his chair as he thinks it over. 

“Now…I apologize,” he finally says. 

Izuku frowns. “But you already-”

“I know,” Kacchan interrupts stiffly, belatedly scratching at his nose, brow furrowing uncomfortably while he peers past Izuku and towards the silver fountain in the distance. “But I…” Kacchan starts, before his eyes suddenly jump back to Izuku. “And I’m only gonna say it once, understand?”

Izuku nods. “I have my listening ears on, Kacchan.”

“Your-” he starts to repeat, incredulous, before scoffing and turning back towards the window. The hint of a smile Izuku had managed to coax out turns down again, drawing out the unhappy wrinkles in Kacchan’s forehead.  

“When the doc said I might not be able to use my arm again and that half of my quirk, I…fuck. I thought about how you never had one to start with and how it never slowed you down so like hell was I gonna chop the damn limb off and not do rehab. I’d kick rehab’s ass. Of course I could, full quirk or no, because you could.”

Izuku’s breath catches in his throat. 

“And that’s…that’s something you gave to me.”

Kacchan’s eyes slowly find Izuku’s, searing through him, blood and bone, with their intensity. 

“That’s something I took from you.”

“Kacchan-”

“I’m sorry, Izuku.”

Izuku rapidly shakes his head. “No, Kacchan you…you gave me a symbol of victory.”

Kacchan’s mouth twists. “You’ve said.”

“But you don’t get it. I…” Izuku squeezes his eyes shut tight, face already growing warm. “It’s…you have no idea how much of my heroism was just…yours. Yours that you gave me and that I relied on when I didn’t have time to think.” Izuku lets out a shaky laugh. “I always wanted to save people with a smile because of All Might, but…the smile I wore when it mattered was yours, Kacchan.” 

Izuku tentatively peeks one eye open, surprised to find Kacchan so stunned. Surprised that he didn’t already know, but…

Maybe they have a lot more to learn about each other, after all. 

“I became a hero because of you.”

Kacchan frowns. 

“And in spite of you,” Izuku concedes. “It’s all…mixed up. In my head. But I don’t…I wouldn’t have traded a second of it.”

Kacchan startles under the declaration, peering back at Izuku with wide, searching, crimson eyes that Izuku thinks he’s seeing more clearly than he ever has before. 

“You wouldn’t?” Kacchan asks. 

Izuku shakes his head earnestly. “No, of course not,” he murmurs. “Kacchan’s amazing.”

Kacchan blinks. Hard. Tears well up in his waterline. 

“Izuku’s amazing, too,” he says, scrubbing pointlessly at his face. “Even though he’s a fucking stupid sap who’s always saying embarrassing shit.”

Izuku laughs brightly, even though he’s crying too. 

“I’ll kick rehab’s ass before you’re even outta that damn cot!” Kacchan announces. 

“Nuh uh,” Izuku shoots back happily. “I’ll be so Plus Ultra once these casts are off, you won’t even believe it!”

Kacchan stops wiping his eyes and peers back at Izuku through his fingertips, a genuine smile playing at the corners of his mouth. 

“I’d believe it,” he says. 

And Izuku? He feels a little bit put-together, after that.

i have the “Umino Iruka Adopts Naruto Uzumaki” tag favorited on ao3, it honestly brings me so much comfort

love to see them happy :)

Sometimes a calm afternoon with your adopted son is what you might need

i watched that hallmark movie "three wise men and a baby" with my mom tonight and had this little bkdk brain worm. please enjoy.

bkdk meet cute (but really it's a meet awkward) (they make it work)

“I cannot fucking believe you’re doing this to me.” 

“Doing what?” Denki replied glibly, palming through a handful of bills as he checked and rechecked the cash register in front of him. 

Katsuki leaned forward, bracing his hands on the thin stretch of countertop separating them, gratified to notice Denki taking a small step backward.  

“Ruining my fucking life.”

Denki sighed, lowering his hands as he finally turned to meet Katsuki’s gaze. “It’s just for the day,” he promised, “and you lost rock paper scissors fair and square!”

“I didn’t know the stakes!” Katsuki shot back. 

Denki rolled his eyes as he pushed the cash register closed and ducked behind the counter, returning with the source of the awful squawking that had been invading Katsuki’s eardrums since the second he set foot in Denki’s stupid bookstore. 

“Sir Papolapodous isn’t even that much work.”

“Sir what?”

“Welcome in!” Denki called, responding to the chime of the front door while Katsuki continued to stare down the bright yellow monstrosity being carted off on him for the afternoon. 

As if sensing its imminent doom, the bird began messing with the door to its cage.  

“Just watch out,” Denki continued, “sometimes he likes to-”

Katsuki ducked as the bird launched itself out of the cage. 

“...escape.”

“What the fuck?” Katsuki shouted, pressing his knuckles to his cheek where the damn thing had scratched him. His fingers came back bloody. “Oi, I’m not watching your stupid flying machete for-” 

“Here!” Denki said, hastily rifling into another bag sitting on the countertop and retrieving some sort of pellet thing that he balanced on Katsuki’s shoulder. “He’ll come to you! Watch!”

Katsuki froze. “Hey, I don’t want that thing anywhere near-”

“Sir Papolapodous!” Denki cheered happily, eyes somewhere beyond Katsuki’s right shoulder. Katsuki tensed. 

The demon landed easily on his shoulder, snatching up the pellet and chirping loudly in Katsuki’s ear. Like a threat. Right beside Katsuki’s vulnerable, jugular-having throat. 

“Aw,” Denki cooed. “He likes you!”

“I’ll roast him,” Katsuki warned. “Don’t you leave me with it.” 

Denki gently pushed the bag from earlier towards Katsuki. “I left you instructions.”

“Stab. Pluck. Spin over fire.”

The bird nudged Katsuki’s cheek and Katsuki flinched away, jerking his shoulder to dislodge the pest. 

The bird ignored his efforts. 

“Seriously, Katsuki,” Denki whined, pressing his palms together, “I need to go to the dentist but I’ll be back before close and- hey, maybe some of the customers will get a kick out of seeing him!”

“Yeah, if they like their books covered in shit,” Katsuki complained. 

“No, no, he’s cage-trained,” Denki promised, untying his worker’s apron and hanging it up behind the counter. “Take good care of my son please!”

Katsuki made a face of utter disbelief. “Hey, I agreed to watch your stupid store, loser. Not to become a fucking Wild Kratt!”

Denki quickly hopped over the counter and out of Katsuki’s reach. 

“Two in one package!”

The bell rang loudly in Katsuki’s ears as Denki completed his cowardly retreat. 

“Fucking asshole,” Katsuki muttered. “Cavity-ridden, dead-brain, no-good, ass-”

“Excuse me?” someone said politely. 

Katsuki spun on his heel- perhaps a shade too quickly, or perhaps with too much bird launching off his shoulder because the customer fell flat on their ass with a startled shout, leaving Katsuki awkwardly looming over them. 

“Ow.”

Belatedly, Katsuki leaned down to offer his hand. 

The demon watched them from atop the nearest shelf of books. 

“I- I’m so sorry,” the guy stammered out, straightening his wire-rim glasses and reaching gratefully for Katsuki’s hand. “I- I really wasn’t expecting that.”

“‘S no problem,” Katsuki replied, curiously shelving the guy’s meekness next to his solid, heavy build as he hauled him up. His hands were incredibly scarred and calloused for someone who jumped at the sight of house pets- demonic or not- but Katsuki supposed he’d give him a pass, considering Katsuki’s own near-death experience was still dripping down his face. “Don’t think anybody expects to get dive bombed by a parakeet on a Sunday morning. Unless you’re a fucking vet or something, I guess.”

“That- that’s true,” the guy said, stumbling a bit as Katsuki righted him, one hand landing briefly on Katsuki’s chest. 

With his head ducked in embarrassment, the guy only came up to Katsuki’s chin but even so, he looked like he could give Katsuki a run for his money on the sparring mat. Katsuki was just about to ask what kind of workouts the did when the guy murmured, 

“Pecs.”

Katsuki blinked. “Pecks?”

The guy’s head snapped up towards Katsuki’s, wide-eyed and pale in his freckled face. 

“God dammit, did that thing fucking peck you?” Katsuki groaned, turning to glare at the preening beast. “‘Cause I can give you a fucking discount on whatever you came in here for before I string him up by his stupid little talons.”

“Wha-? Ah, no! No, no, no,” the guy assured, frantically waving his hands in front of himself. 

Large hands, Katsuki noticed. One of which had been resting warmly over Katsuki’s shirt a moment ago. 

“That won’t be necessary!” 

“Then why’d you-?”

“Pet!” the guy corrected, freckles now washed out by a steady shade of pink. “I’m a…pet…” His eyes darted nervously to the left before snapping back to Katsuki. “...therapist.”

His eyes were a very fucking bright shade of green. 

Katsuki blinked slowly as he registered the words that had come out of Greenie’s mouth- taking in the embarrassed tilt to the guy’s lips. His fitted T-shirt. His obnoxiously bright red shoes. Frankly, he looked like he got dressed in the dark. 

Katsuki wet his lips. “A pet therapist,” he repeated blandly. 

“Ah..mhm,” the guy said, nodding. “So, um, so the dive bombings really aren’t that odd,” he added, tacking on an airy laugh. 

Katsuki continued to stare at him, because clearly one of them had taken on major brain damage in the past five minutes, and considering that this guy’s shirt said tuxedo and had a growing hole along the shoulder seam, Katsuki really hoped it wasn’t himself. 

The man gestured vaguely to the shelf behind him. “That’s really a lovely bird you’ve got there, um…?”

“Katsuki,” he supplied. 

“Izuku,” the man smiled, offering out his hand. “Izuku Midoriya.”

Warily, Katsuki shook it. “...Pet therapist,” he repeated. 

“Yup!” Izuku said in a high voice, smiling wider. “That’s me. Therapizing the pets.” 

“Right,” Katsuki replied, because what the fuck was even happening, “well, if you’re looking for a book, we uh…have them.”

Internally, Katsuki cringed. Then he sent a seething, telepathic complaint to Denki because Katsuki had been fired from his one and only customer service job at fifteen and the universe had never made the mistake of putting him in that position ever again for a reason.

Fucking rock paper scissors. 

“Right,” Izuku mimicked, his thousand-watt smile pressing flat with amusement. His stupid green eyes were practically dancing with mirth and Katsuki suddenly felt very warm in the face- alone in a bookstore with a yellow, dive-bombing demon and a man with a fake-sounding job and no sense of color coordination and a very firm handshake. 

Katsuki crossed his arms over his chest, ever so slightly jutting out his chin. He could still feel the outline of a hand where the guy had caught himself against Katsuki. 

“What kinda book does a pet therapist need, anyway?”

The guy continued to blink up at Katsuki for a moment before coming to his senses with a startled, “Oh! I was wondering if you had any comics, actually. All Might, specifically.”

Katsuki raised an interested brow, looking between something-Midoriya, the demon from hell, and then Midoriya again. 

Katsuki had absolutely zero idea what sorts of books Denki had in stock, let alone if he carried the single most greatest graphic novel series of Katsuki’s youth. 

Still, he clicked his tongue. “Let’s find out.”

you wanna join my gift exchange sooo bad

you wanna write mha fanfic and gift it to someone else soooo bad

you wanna draw fanart for someone else soooooooo bad

based only on the music, which idol group from i7 is your favorite? i’m curious 👀

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.

Imants Tillers (Australian,b.1950)

Kangaroo Blank, 1988

Oil stick, gouache, oil paint and acrylic paint on 78 canvases

Lately I'm having a lot of fun working on prompts and the mha first kiss gift exchange! Here's a bkdk snippet from one of the prompt responses (for context, it's set in the middle of summer)

“You’re thinking something sweet,” Deku murmured, poking at the soft center of Katsuki’s cheek and then drawing a gentle line down the bridge of his nose.  “No ‘m not,” Katsuki said. “Sweaty ass.” Deku pinched Katsuki’s nose closed, then laughed when Katsuki elbowed him in mild retaliation.  “You are too,” Deku insisted. “You’re making that face.” Katsuki scowled. “What face?” Deku tapped the space between Katsuki’s eyebrows and Katsuki stared at the blue-green veins now taking up most of his field of vision.    “The one where you don’t have any frown lines here. And your eyes go all soft. And the corners of your mouth start to do this wobbly thing that-” “Alright, alright,” Katsuki complained, swatting Deku’s hand away from his face and its apparently numerous tells. “I get the point already shithead, now quit touching my sweat. It’s a fucking fire hazard.” Deku shoved himself more insistently into Katsuki’s side, nose squishing flat where it was pressed against the top of Katsuki’s ribcage.  “Not unless you detonate.” Like this, Deku’s voice had a muffled, slightly nasally quality and Katsuki felt the corners of his lips wobble with the want to smile.

Hello writers and creatives!

I recently picked up Chris Baty's book, No Plot? No Problem! and have decided to make March the month in which I try to write a 50k novel! Anyone here interested in joining?

I have a few irl friends who are participating (some with modified challenges) but I wanted to offer it up on here as well. If you're interested, interact with this post in any way or send me an ask/DM! More info below the cut :)

(and a very important vote for those who'd like to participate)

So the whole premise of the challenge is that, in giving yourself a one-month deadline to crank out a full, 50k novel, your attention ends up being placed on quantity over quality, which helps drown out the internal critic that makes you hesitate when you write (or edit something twelve million times before moving on, or never start writing in the first place)

I highly recommend renting the book from your local library for more details on the thought process behind the challenge and other helpful tips (and if you have a library card but transportation difficulty, a friend of mine recently showed me the Libby app, which could be of help!)

I'm aiming for the full 50 thousand words, but my artist friend is adapting the challenge to dedicate a certain amount of hours towards making a comic, and my mom lowered the wc for herself because she's always wanted to write a short story (and doesn't have a ton of interest in writing a novel lol). So if 50k sounds too overwhelming for you or novels aren't exactly your thing, but something else is, feel free to go with whatever floats your boat!

I'm not sure how many people this will reach/ how many would want to play along, but community is a great way to keep each other motivated while also holding each other accountable, so what do you think would be the best method for coordinating that?

Option 1- through tumblr! i could organize writing sprints, word count/progress sharing posts, and some motivational things all under the same tag for easy find-ability (all with a tag-list so everyone is notified when these posts come out and so everyone on the list can interact with each other) Option 2- through discord! theoretically, i can figure out how to make one of these so that there can be a lot more freedom of chatting/sharing etc and writing sprints can be organized on there as well, with extra, optional channels for people to talk about the specifics of their projects or anything else you might want (but absolutely no pressure on the details-sharing front if that'll bring your inner critic back to life) Option 3- tumblr communities! i am not 100% sure how this function works, but if it's smth you guys are into or think would be good, i can absolutely make one Option 4- nuance/something else! if you have a suggestion for a better way to do this, i am all ears

poll duration is only a week, so if there's a lot of interest i will re-cast the poll again in the beginning of february

(and if you like one of the options but have suggestions for things you'd like to see or ways to best organize it, just lmk!)