You Wanna Join My Gift Exchange Sooo Bad

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I do a bingo board every year for low-pressure resolutions (most of them being things I want to do but might need a small nudge to actually get started, small things that will simply make me happy that I could use a reminder for, and some bigger goals/projects! very fun, I highly recommend)

anyways, my writing-related squares for 2025 are:

-finish my mha fic Short For Grenade (and post)

-engage more with the writeblr community (specifically, make another writeblr friend)

and

-try the NaNoWriMo challenge in March! (and I’ll post more abt this in the coming weeks in case anybody else would like to try to do it at the same time!)

Happy New Year!

Reblog or comment your writing resolutions for this year!

how are the manga readers feeling

Momo, swooning: Yuki's charm is like magic!! <3 <3 Mitsuki: oh no we dont say that word around- Nagi, materializing from the ether: DID SOMEONE SAY ✨MAGICAL COCONA✨??

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.”

This is my first time participating in flash fiction friday but I had a lot of fun, thanks so much for the prompt! @flashfictionfridayofficial

Content Warning: suggestive content

Title: Slip | WC: 591

The moon is bright when Margaret's hand draws me into wakefulness.

Her cold fingertips press against my arm like piano keys- tap, tap, tapping a scale that brings goosebumps to the surface and bores her the second my skin grows used to the touch.

She smiles, a finger raised to her lips, and I remember that Margaret has the prettiest teeth I've ever seen. Pearly and straight and not at all afraid to bear down until I bruise. The memory blooms before my eyes as I watch her sway around the room, picking up her hairbrush, then a headband. The echo of her perfect press of lips will linger in the days to come like a love letter and ache in all the ways that I do when she's not around.

"It's late," I murmur, sparing a glance towards my alarm clock.

Margaret continues to dance like I hadn't said a thing and I continue to watch her, content to swallow down the sentiment.

What did late matter when Margaret was drawing closer with those eyes, leaning down to pluck the observation from behind my teeth like sweet oranges in the summertime? What was the hour compared to the way Margaret crept out of the room with my breath still caught in her lungs?

The floor creaks under my weight when I slip from the bed- a clumsy cat to Margaret's graceful creeping- and I follow her humming out of the bedroom.

Here, the moon peers in like a voyeur and bathes Margaret, elbow to hip, in her soft and hazy glow. Margaret's slip is practically sheer. Pathetically mesmerizing.

My pajamas are threadbare, but they cling to her echoing touch in all the right ways and I can't help but take a few steps forward, hand outstretched and hesitating half an inch before her hip.

"Marg," I say, then I stop. Swallow. "Margaret," I try again.

"That's my name," she whispers back.

My fingers catch in the hole against my own hip, instead.

Don't wear it out, I think. But I don't think a name like Margaret could ever be worn out when it's used for a girl like her.

"Margaret," I croon slowly.

She rolls her eyes with another, secretive, almost-smile, eyes glinting in the low light. I'm close enough to see the way the moon colors her eyelashes silver.

She waltzes into the kitchen and I get the feeling I'm supposed to wait, so I do. I pick up humming the tune Margaret had begun, drifting toward the window to play with the curtain hem, unable to put together a picture based on the sounds she's leaving behind.

I imagine the curtain is Margaret's slip, instead. They're almost the same color.

"Is this what you wanted, Beth?" Margaret calls out, voice cutting through the empty space between us like she's right beside me.

I drift forward toward the kitchen, smiling, still rubbing the sleep from my eye, and the expression wobbles like a figure skater on the ice- spinning, spinning, spinning.

The eggs are on the floor. The ones that she bought.

Margaret's coat is gone from the rack.

"I really tried, you know?"

Yolks spill slowly out of their fragile shells, bathed in a refrigerator halo, trembling under the weight of the front door- closed, firmly.

Unlocked.

Margaret's key is still hanging by the door.

Spinning...spinning...spinning...

Something wobbles, something burns, and I'm crouched down beside the eggs, my father's voice in my head and Margaret's perfume on my skin, already fading.

Don't wear it out, I think again.

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

woah

this scene actually broke me and i havent even watched the actual episode

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!!!!