As Promised, Here's What I've Got So Far:

i7 fake tweets 🫶

🌻Excerpts from my bkdk WIP: Trophy Husband, Who?🌻

1- Todoroki and Bakugou are (fr)enemies interning at Endeavor Law together

2- Todoroki, Ochako, and Izuku are roommates

3-Izuku just wants to introduce Todoroki to his new boyfriend (who is the only reason Todoroki has experienced cleanliness in their apartment's shared spaces in years).

(feel free to interact with this post!)

*

Todoroki makes a point of bringing out the brownies while all of the interns are gathered in the little conference room, quietly working. He’d packed a plastic bag with the four best-looking ones from the bunch and hands one to Yaoyorozu and then to Iida, both of them pleased and surprised, before keeping the last two for himself. 

Bakugou throws a pencil that bounces off of Todoroki’s forehead. “What the fuck?” he complains. 

Todoroki finally makes eye contact with the man. “Oh, did you want one Bakugou?” he asks pleasantly and his rival freezes, caught between his entitlement and his ego. 

“This is delicious Todoroki, thank you,” Yaoyorozu supplies into the tense silence, winking with the eye Bakugou can’t see from where he’s sitting and Todoroki quickly decides that he’d marry Yaoyorozu if she asked. 

*

“Hey!” Izuku calls happily. “You’re home early.” 

Todoroki pauses halfway to his bedroom and levels his roommate with a blank stare. “I think my father might be God,” he says, dread dribbling from the syllables and spilling at his feet next to the popcorn crumbs. 

Izuku’s smile wavers. “O-oh,” he replies uncertainly. “At least there’s always hell?” Then he visibly cringes.

*

“Deku, what the hell is this?” Katsuki asks. He’s standing in his boyfriend’s living room with his hands on his hips, much like the first time he came over except this time Round Face is nowhere in sight and the space itself has upgraded from complete pigsty to teenage boy’s bedroom. 

It’s not that much of an improvement. 

Deku, meanwhile, is sitting pretty on the couch with the brightness of his smile cranked up so high Katuski has no doubt he’s trying to distract him. 

“Why is there popcorn all over the floor?” Katsuki presses because pretty-boy smiles can’t distract him if he’s stuck staring at the abandoned kernels in dismay, several of them already smooshed into the rug below where unlucky passersby didn’t see them. “And that blanket looks too weirdly placed to not be hiding some oblong mess.”

Deku straightens, less strategically cute and more genuinely nervous. “The popcorn is there for moral reasons, I swear,” he tells Katsuki. 

Katsuki just raises an eyebrow and says, “Uh huh.”

“No, I promise!” Deku continues. “It all started with this little argument I had with Ochako that, you know, it actually had really very reasonable grounds and it’s technically her job to pick up the popcorn so I can’t do it because that would be giving in and- and we’re supposed to resist the establishment-”

“Deku,” Katsuki says flatly, because whatever justification he’s concocted for leaving the popcorn on the ground is complete and utter bullshit and they both know it. “What am I gonna find beneath the blanket?”

I LOVE IT WHEN HE MAKES THIS O.O FACE SM

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

Plotting is so much easier when you remember that editing exists; if it doesn’t go right the first time, you can fuck around later and make it better once you’ve got a clearer picture in your head of what you’re after

Your story probably isn’t gonna look even close to your plotting notes by the end of it, and that’s a good thing; it means your drafting worked

MHA tweets pt.6 <3 - fanfic cont.

Hey! Saw your post about giving you prompts ^^ I hope it’s not too bad (first time doing this in my life and I’m an anxious blond head so-)

The prompt is:

Midoriya Izuku + chronic pain (is this a headcanon? I don’t know what’s canon or not anymore) + AU where he’s in a romantic with Katsuki/Shoto/both

I hope it is what you wanted! I know it is pretty simple but I didn’t want to go too overboard for my first prompt. Love your works 💚

Thanks sm for the prompt!! I recognize your user and i'm super flattered that you enjoy my stuff! Chronic pain Izuku is a great headcanon :)

Hope you like it <3

500 words | Deku + chronic pain + bktddk

“So, what’s this?” Uraraka asks, with the air of someone who knows exactly what this is but wants to force Izuku through the mortifying ordeal of explaining it anyway. 

Izuku cringes and closes his eyes. 

Todoroki, immune to embarrassment, says, “We’re massaging Midoriya’s arms.”

Kacchan, immune to social pressure, doesn’t even bother to respond. 

Izuku, caught between two very warm, very close bodies, alternates between melting at the gentle way they knead out the pain from his aching muscles and fidgeting nervously. 

“While practically in his lap?” Uraraka presses. “Both of you?”

And Kacchan and Todoroki do both have a leg tossed over Izuku’s. 

For leverage. Obviously. 

Izuku peeks open one eye, trying to psychically beg Uraraka to stop asking questions and just let him have this. 

“You’re overworking yourself,” Kacchan mutters, displeased and using his quirk to massage a particularly sore finger joint. 

They're practically holding hands.

“Uh huh,” Izuku responds intelligently. 

“Dumbfuck,” Kacchan chastises, flicking his temple. “Listen to me.”

Izuku draws in a sharp breath as Todoroki’s chin comes to rest gently on his other shoulder. 

“He’s right, you know.”

“Don’t…” Izuku starts, falling silent when Todoroki’s thumb presses distractingly against Izuku’s palm. 

Then Kacchan’s temple falls carefully against Izuku’s, breath warm across his cheek, and Izuku tries his best to remember the rest of his sentence. 

“Don’t…um…inflate his ego, Todoroki-kun.” 

Kacchan uses his head to press the three of them closer together, less gently than before, knocking Izuku's skull into Todoroki’s. Three peas in a pod. 

“I don’t get ego-stroking privileges?”  

Izuku laughs nervously. 

“No?”

Todoroki hums. 

“I think Midoriya is a little distracted at the moment.”

Izuku shakes his head. “Not distracted,” he promises. “Just…uh. I'm just…um...”

“Just convinced you two haven’t been hitting on him all year,” Uraraka finishes, voice a conspiratorial whisper, before moving away to the kitchen. 

Izuku can’t help the startled noise that escapes him when two pairs of soft lips press against his cheeks. 

“Get the message yet, nerd?”  

Izuku pauses with an honest answer on his lips and swallows it back down, face growing hot, because if this is real (and all the signs suggested it was) then, 

“…no.”

“No?” Todoroki repeats.

Izuku squeezes his eyes shut. Nervously, he mumbles, “Might have to make it clearer.”

His little stunt is rewarded with a pleased rumble from Kacchan- now nosing at his temple, lips skating achingly close to Izuku's skin in a not-quite kiss- and Todoroki sliding further onto Izuku’s lap.

They’re both still massaging his arms. Izuku hasn't been thinking about the pain for quite a while, though. 

“I don’t know how we could be clearer,” Todoroki says and the heat and the closeness and the genuine concern for his well being must be melting Izuku’s brain because he blurts out, 

“Kiss me.”

It’s worth it, though, for the way they dip down and finally give him what he’s been dreaming about. Ten times sweeter than any whispered, late-night wish. 

"But don't go thinking you call the shots, nerd."

A year-end update on my original novel concept

Hey friends, it's been awhile since I've been able to put in any work on this! But I've been doing some world building and altering a few things, and thought it might be nice to send you an updated summary of my original novel. It is tentatively titled "The Pilgrimage", but who knows, that might change as well.

Alays Webster is a weaver in a small town on the edge of the Barrens in a country called Codor. Life in her hometown is pretty sedate, and more or less ruled by the country's religious hierarchy and its tenets, observing festivals and attending service and what have you. It is expected that everyone will go on pilgrimage to the capital at least once in their lifetimes, to witness miracles and see the Sleeping King himself, where he lies in state while battling in the spirit realm against false gods and keeping them out of Codor. Alays, though, was always a sickly child, and still has occasional bad days now that she's grown. So she’s put off making the pilgrimage until her childhood best friend, Vezian, now a priest, comes and cajoles her into making the journey with him.

The Barrens are a dead wasteland that surround Codor on all sides; as far as anyone knows, no one can live there, and the area is considered to be forsaken by everyone, even the Sleeping King. On her pilgrimage, Alays learns that her proximity to the Barrens causes others to look down on her, and she encounters concepts that she had never considered before, everything from how criminals are treated to “witches” and “demons”, from whose magic the Sleeping King's priests promise protection.

Alays's ill health improves the closer she gets to the capital, and this is touted as a miracle from the Sleeping King himself. It turns out, however, that Alays is sensitive to magical energies, and her health is improving because she is traveling through healthier land that has more magic available for her to draw from. Magic is secretly but strictly regulated by the priesthood, and anyone who tries to use it outside of their purview is labeled a witch, and sentenced to a terrible fate: either death, or “alteration” into Misbegotten monsters. Alays is now in terrible danger through no fault of her own.

Vezian’s mentor, Father Marcellus, explains this to Alays, and arranges for her to escape to the Barrens via airship, piloted by a man named Lucas. In my original version of this story, Lucas is a shady fellow who almost certainly can not be trusted, and Vezian is exiled along with Alays. In the updated 2023 version of this story, I want Alays to go to the Barrens alone, taken there by Lucas, while Vezian is left behind without even the first clue what could have happened to his childhood best friend. In that case, Vezian has to hunt for Alays himself, and learn a great deal about the secrets the upper echelons of the priesthood have been hiding from him. Though Vezian doesn’t know it yet, Lucas will be instrumental in helping him find Alays once more.

This is, incidentally, a plot that I write over and over again, no matter how hard I might try to to get away from it: “Character A is separated from Character B and they must reunite,” except that once they do reunite, Vezian discovers that Alays is dying, and with Lucas's help must go on a dangerous journey across the Barrens and into the unknown in order to save her life.

What follows is a tale of adventure, exile, betrayal, and trust, that tests not only their faith, but everything Lucas, Vezian, and Alays thought they ever knew. There will be magic, and gods, new lands not seen in centuries, and old tales not heard in just as long.

(My worldbuilding for this is extensive, and highly distracting. Now if only I could get the story itself to be half as interesting.)

MHA tweets pt.21- 🕸️Halloween special pt.2 🕸️ +bonus poll

if the drawing wasn't rigged in the bakusquad's favor, what costume would you want to win?

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