It Was 9 Chapters And Aside From Horrified (which I Was), I Was Also Embarrased I Read Those Chapters

Tentatively poking my head through the door... what's happening in Tumblr land?

That’s a really fun self-Pavlov lol

trying to find the time/energy to write now that the semester has started up again is not going to be as easy peasy as i thought lol

writers, pls reblog with your fav writing rituals/habits! i love getting inspired by seeing what works for other people :)

Find Five Lines tag game

thanks @kaylinalexanderbooks !

Rules: find five lines that each match the given prompts, then change one of the prompts for the next person

A line with funny phrasing

It’s an interesting sight, Sero thinks. A time-traveling, ink-smudged historian in the company of an immortal and a forty-foot goddess clad in ivory and gold. 

A line quickly giving someone's backstory

“It is,” Shouto agrees. “Athens hasn’t seen one this fierce since…” Since Shouto turned eighteen, forty seven years ago, and had to cut his coming-of-age celebration short on account of the way the sea had swirled with rage, threatening to spill over and swallow them all whole. 

A line with someone's hair color

The man, for his part, seems just as shocked by the situation. His hair is dark like raven’s feathers and falls to the top of his slender shoulders, and he boasts a smile far too wide for someone who just had dirty water splashed on them. 

A line where someone discovers something

“What?” Sero asks, because he knows all those words but that can’t be the right translation.  Slower, quieter, Todoroki repeats, “I am twenty and two years old, always. I am cursed,” and it sounds like a confession, whispered into this hidden space away from the eyes and ears of the world.

A line that displays a character's feelings

His fascination fades quickly to bitterness- quicker and quicker each day, it seems- and he pulls free a roll of cloth to re-wrap his hand. He tries not to notice how his blood leaks from the injuries on his palm in an unnatural hue but he must see, acknowledge, if he wishes to hide it properly.

Each of these lines is from my seroroki time traveler x immortal WIP

Gently tagging my writing moots @antsday @moody-tortured-artist @agirlandherquill @ohromeoraine @sorrowsfallallaround @galacticneighbor

+ anyone else who'd like to participate!!

Deku gets hit by a quirk and temporarily becomes a dog ! 

+ pomeranian bakugou cause the size difference is funny to me

Keep reading

Imants Tillers (Australian,b.1950)

Kangaroo Blank, 1988

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

writing accountability, day 33

OKAY so this is yesterday's post, actually - I finished writing super late (for me) and did not have the energy to make a post about it lol. but yeah idk I'm kinda at that place where I'm decently into a draft and am unsure how I should connect the beginning to the end lol. the dreaded middle, if you will 😩 decided I ought to try making a comprehensive timeline, so I'm experimenting with different software programs now to perhaps find something which would make the process easier? idk

word count: 1081/800

we're getting more into a science student's life, and I'm kinda using my knowledge of medical courses to plot out a vague roadmap for that lol. still discovering new aspects of the characters, which is fun:D ahhhh I already wanna write the second draft lol

snippet:

“It’s almost ten,” Florin said gently, and this, too, was new. Quilin had yet to decide how he felt about it. “These journals will be here tomorrow, too.” Quilin exhaled a sharp breath. “I told her I’d at the very least get a list to her before the weekend. I’m not yet trusted enough to write the overview on my own,” he muttered, “which will not change if I don’t prove I’m reliable.” “Quil. You’re literally a second year. You don’t need all this,” Florin said, gesturing to the books around Quilin. “There will be plenty of time to obsess over articles and conferences later.” Quilin bit into his lip, unable to meet Florin’s eyes. Later. Later. With Florin, ‘later’ was not an idea of a future. It was a reminder he may not, in fact, live long enough to see it.

ah, to live every day in constant fear of death. could not be me guys lol

see yaaa later today I think:DD

I think Bakugou would kill for a lot of people but the only person he would die for without hesitation is Izuku and I think Izuku would die for a lot of people but the only person he would kill for without hesitation is Kacchan

A snippet from one of my more recent bkdk fics! It's called Bedside Manner by me, bi_focal :)

Deku sighed heavily and started walking closer. “Haven’t we decided that murder isn’t the proper solution to anything?”

“We haven’t decided shit,” Katsuki shot back, holding a palm flat across Deku’s chest to stop him from moving any further. “You’re sick. Go lie down before I shove this thermometer down your throat.”

“I’m not sick,” Deku argued, and when he tried to move around Katsuki he tightened his grip, twisting the material of Deku’s school shirt in his fist. “Kacchan-”

“If you’re not sick then kiss me,” Katsuki said, bringing up his free hand to tap his lips twice in quick succession. “Right now.”

Deku’s eyes grew wide and he fought a little harder against Katsuki’s grip, his limbs lethargic and weak. “But we can’t!”

“Because you’re sick,” Katsuki agreed.

“Because- because PDA!” Deku protested.

“I don’t think we have any rules about that Midobro,” Shitty Hair said. “Do we class pres?”

“We do not,” Glasses agreed, chopping his arm down in the air like a robot. “We are simply concerned about your wellbeing, Midoriya.”

“My being is well,” he countered. “I just…I just…Kacchan,” he said suddenly, twisting up his face so that he looked like a kicked puppy. “I- I don’t want to disappoint you but I’m really not comfortable kissing in front of the whole class.”

“Low blow dude,” someone murmured.

Katsuki narrowed his eyes but Deku kept up the act surprisingly well. “Everyone turn the fuck around,” he barked, and Katsuki didn’t have to turn his gaze from Deku’s shocked face to know that instructions were followed. “Kiss me.”

“I have morning breath.”

“Don’t care.”

“I bit my lip earlier and it hurts,” he tried instead.

Katsuki raised a brow at his uninjured lips.

“It hurts on the inside?” Deku amended.

“That would be the cold. Just admit that you’re sick fuckface.”

“Kacchan,” Deku groaned, “this is ridiculous. Just because I don’t want to kiss you with everyone listening in doesn’t mean I’m sick.”

Please feel free to check it out on ao3 or reach out to me here!

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.