Happy Halloween!! 🐺👻✨

My grandma: oh, you’re working on your laptop?

Me, writing bkdk being silly and in love: yes…working…

(in related news i just posted my 20th fic! <--)

for my sprint i did 25 minutes total and wrote 1,019 new words for my mha fic Short For Grenade (link to the post explaining this fic concept is here <-). honestly i was typing like a madman for this one

i added a scene set at dagoba beach (which is not covered in trash for the sake of the grenade the dog AU) and finally started writing about grenade's talent for tracking! i had intended to have kota, eri, and the kids from the island show up as characters to bicker with katsuki but ended up just including eri for now

im excited to finally start showing izuku's progress with feeling more at ease around dogs (and having his relationship with katsuki become more friendly as well!)

happy writing everyone!! im so happy to see people participating in this!

Writing sprint tag game!

(Even if you haven’t been tagged, you are happily invited to participate!)

Here’s how the game works:

1) set aside some time to complete a 10-20min writing sprint, breaking up your writing time and break time however you see fit (I’ll prob do 10 min writing, a 5 min break, and then another 5 or 10 min of writing)

*if you want to do a shorter or a longer writing sprint, that’s totally fine too! 10-20min is just a low-pressure guideline

2) complete the sprint!

even if you cringe at the words you put down, the point is simply to get more words on the page than what you started with, so write that awkward sentence! skip that fiddly bit to write the scene you have inspiration for! anything new that ends up on the page is progress and anything you don’t love can always be edited later

3) have fun :)

remember, this sprint is a little nudge to help you reconnect with your creative writing. it’s 100% low-pressure, anything goes, and we’re all in it together 💪

4) share your sprint results

this part is totally optional but if you’d like to play along, reblog this post (or copy-paste the rules into a new post) with as many (or as few) answers as you feel comfortable sharing

*and if you make a new post, pls tag me so i can clap and cheer for you!!

how long was your sprint?

how many words did you write?

*anything more than zero is great!

what project did you complete the sprint for?

what did you end up adding to your WIP (or new project)?

*no need to share specific lines since the sprint’s focus is quantity over quality, but absolutely go wild with the overview. did you add a whole new scene? a new character? important dialogue for character development? a fun side quest you hadn’t planned on? an interesting bit you have no idea what to do with?

what part of your new writing excites you the most?

5) connect with your fellow writeblrs!

tag people in your response post to keep the creative energy flowing and offer encouragement and kudos to those who participate and share their progress!

gently tagging my writing moots to get this started:

@peaceheather @antsday @moody-tortured-artist @agirlandherquill @ohromeoraine @sorrowsfallallaround

shoot me a message or comment if you don't want to be tagged in these sorts of things (or if i haven't tagged you and you would like to be tagged in the future for writing things)

MHA tweets pt.17 💛

Hate it when I’m writing a first draft and have to focus on Getting Words On The Page and not Making The Words Pretty And Perfect, I’m actually in hell

-someone who enjoys writing very much

I’m rewatching death note rn and I love how ryuk, who is supposed to be above human concerns and is watching light’s life play out like a reality tv show, still saw him throw away that mini tv and was like, I can’t tell if ur cautious or just a spoiled brat 😒

Author Ask Tag

thanks for the tag @sharkblizzardblogs (and @aalinaaaaaa, who tagged me with this game as well!)

What is the main lesson of your story?

I think there could be a few takeaways from Forest Fire but it's mainly about learning to let go of a romanticized image of the past and learning to face the things you've been running away from (a lesson for each main character, respectively).

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

The idea started when I was looking out at the scenery during a spontaneous road trip to California but none of the worldbuilding I did then actually ended up in the version of FF im working on now, lol. For the current version, Studio Ghibli is a big inspiration (especially a scene towards the end of the boy and the heron) as well as the song This Place Is a Shelter by Ólafur Arnalds.

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? So you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help them grow as a person?

Forest Fire is set in a dual POV, following two estranged brothers forced to grapple with a past they remember very differently, so-

Sylas just wants his older brother back and for his family to be the way he remembers it as a kid. He's desperate to bring his brother back home and keep him there.

Lincoln, on the other hand, doesn't want anything to do with the town he grew up in or the memories he can't escape there. He wants to be a responsible adult and return both Sylas and another young character (Peggy) to their respective homes and then get the hell outta dodge.

Through them, I'm trying to tell a coming-of-age story that teaches both of the characters to stop letting their past overshadow their present/future.

How many chapters is your story going to have?

Genuinely I have no idea, but hopefully at least 20?

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original content! No idea what to do with it after I finish but once I start the editing process (or if I particularly like any snippets from the first draft) I'll probably share them here on tumblr :)

When did you start writing?

Literally the end of last year, this is a very fresh project for me.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr?

I think my best advice is to not let the fear of the blank page overshadow your creative drive. Firsts drafts are meant to be of a lower quality than you want (or than you're capable of) because there are just so many elements to juggle at the same time while also learning how to best tell your story, so don't sweat the small stuff and give yourself the space to be curious and interested in what you're writing!

Take a breath. Take a stretch. And just write :)

gently tagging:

@peaceheather @moody-tortured-artist @mk-writes-stuff @agirlandherquill @antsday @sorrowsfallallaround @emilywrites185 @aether-wasteland-s @cee-grice and @blu3ha1redbrat

When you want to write Katsuki as his own complex, multifaceted, deeply fascinating individual who's a force of nature shaped by a militaristic system, with independent motives free of romantic dynamics, but somehow, his every waking breath is devoted to the freckled boy he left in the river

merry yaoimas 2: electric boogaloo (they finally kissed)

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

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.