The Way You Jump From Creating Silly, Hilarious Fake Tweets To Really Beautiful Pieces Of Writing Is

@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.

I’m trying to work on this bnha Coraline AU and I severely underestimated my desire to make the Baku-family sweet and wholesome and happy lol

any suggestions for details you’d like to see in later chapters?

The Love & Peace collection (1995)

Day 1 for the March 50k novel writing challenge I'm running on my sideblog (@bi-focal15):

Introduce yourself/your WIP/your writing goals/ your writing schedule and/or whatever else you please :)

Bonus: create a writing affirmation for the month!

Hi, I'm bi_focal! The WIP I'm focusing on for this challenge is actually based off of a writing prompt I did awhile ago (that you can see here) and most of my writing will be concentrated in the evenings

My affirmation is: It doesn't have to be good, it just has to exist

i7 tweets #2

reblog if you’d like one of these in your inbox

- ask me things you want to know about me

- why you follow me

- what’s on your mind/what you’re thinking about

- a compliment

- make me choose between two things

- ask for advice

- tell me a secret

- things you associate me with

- anything!!!!

Currently obsessed with katsuki and izuku holding hands post-war, whether you read it as platonic, romantic, or somewhere in between.

For Katsuki, it’s an opportunity to re-live that moment in the river and make a different choice. He can reaffirm that he’s turning over a new leaf and that Deku is there, alive and strong and still reaching out after all these years. It probably helps solidify for him that Deku does forgive him, especially on days where Katsuki still struggles to forgive himself.

And for izuku, you could argue that a large part of his life has been an exercise in reaching out and being rejected, over and over again. But with Kacchan, he gets a physical reminder that someone’s reaching back for him (someone who’s strong enough to keep him grounded and who he’s never, not once, stopped reaching out for). It’s a reaffirmation of their friendship and growing bond and proof that Katsuki didn’t die out on the battlefield. That he’s right there. That they’re equals. Partners, even.

And when they’re both each others biggest weakness and strongest ally, I’m sure the comfort of just being together would go a long way, too. For once in their lives they could be silly teenagers holding hands while playing a video game or watching a movie or doing homework or taking a walk or-

Just- handholding as a gesture of devotion and safety and new beginnings

Friday Kiss Tag

Thank you for the tag @the-golden-comet

Here is a snippet from The General's Bride

---

The quiet of the night settled over the Jade Blossom Pavilion, its usual stillness interrupted only by the faint flicker of lanterns swaying in the breeze. Jian sat by the window, gazing out at the moonlit garden, the light casting delicate patterns on his veil.

Luo Xingchen approached silently, his footsteps soft against the polished wood. "You’ve been up too long," he said, his voice low, almost reverent.

Jian didn’t turn. "The moon is too beautiful to waste behind closed eyes."

Xingchen stepped closer, his presence grounding. "And yet you hide your face from it."

Jian chuckled softly, his fingers grazing the edge of his veil. "Perhaps the moon isn’t the only thing worth hiding from."

The weight of Xingchen’s gaze pressed against his back, protective but unyielding. “Do you think me a wolf, waiting to pounce? Or the moon itself, casting light where it is not welcome?”

Jian’s voice softened, his words gentle. “You are neither. You are the warrior who guards me from both.”

Xingchen’s hand moved, hesitating briefly before lifting the edge of Jian’s veil. “And who guards you from me?”

Jian met his eyes, his expression unreadable but unafraid. “I don’t need protection from you, Xingchen.”

The veil slipped away, fluttering to the floor like a ribbon freed. Jian’s face, illuminated by the moonlight, was a sight Xingchen had not allowed himself to imagine fully. For a moment, neither spoke, the unspoken tension between them filling the silence.

Xingchen cupped Jian’s cheek gently, his thumb brushing over the smooth curve of his jaw. “You are the most dangerous person in this palace,” he murmured, his tone almost playful. “Do you know that?”

Jian’s lips parted slightly, a quiet inhale, before he responded. “And you are the only one foolish enough to stand so close to me.”

Xingchen leaned in, the space between them vanishing in a heartbeat. Their lips met in a kiss that began slow, tentative, as though testing the fragile boundaries of their world. But it deepened quickly, the weight of unspoken truths and unshed fears driving them closer. Jian’s hands clutched the fabric of Xingchen’s robe, grounding himself as the kiss consumed them both.

When they finally pulled away, breathless but unbroken, Xingchen rested his forehead against Jian’s, his voice low. “The moon can wait. Tonight, the stars are ours.”

---

I'll tag @finickyfelix @willtheweaver @leahnardo-da-veggie @illarian-rambling @winglesswriter @paeliae-occasionally @thecomfywriter @roarintheheavens @drchenquill @wyked-ao3 @the-inkwell-variable @corinneglass @seastarblue @frostedlemonwriter @vesanal