I’m Trying To Work On This Bnha Coraline AU And I Severely Underestimated My Desire To Make The Baku-family

Emerald Isles | bi_focal

-an excerpt- -bkdk-

Summary: Izuku’s been hit with a quirk that translates his emotions into colored patches on his skin, and anyone who touches him can feel those emotions. He tries to hide it…until he doesn’t.

Tags: fluff, love confessions, communication

No archive warnings | 4,077 words

Katsuki shrugged. Tried to appear calmer than he felt. “Depends,” he hedged. One glance at the nerd told Katsuki he could see right through him. “Close your eyes.”

Regardless, Deku obliged. Katsuki took a steadying inhale and breathed out, “I feel the same. About you.”

A wobbly smile overtook Deku’s lips and he pushed his face into the side of his mattress. It looked to Katsuki like he was trying to smother the pure force of his excitement so as to not frighten him off. Deku didn’t yet realize that Katsuki wasn’t scared of this. Of them. That it actually felt a lot like reaching safe harbor after weeks spent lost in a storm-ridden sea. Then Deku turned his head, cheek still resting against the blanket, mouth still smiling, eyes still closed, and said, “Even the years of misunderstood childhood admiration?”

It was a lighthearted comment and Katsuki knew he was meant to concede agreement here. Lean into the joke and accept Deku’s unwavering patience with grace. Accept his forgiveness. Deku quirked a brow in concern when Katsuki stayed silent. “Kacchan?” he asked. “I didn’t-”

“It was repressed but it was there,” Katsuki conceded instead.

Katsuki 100% had a twisted form of respect for Izuku in childhood and I’ll die on that hill. Why else would deku be perceived as a threat at all instead of just another extra? If Deku’s quirklessness really made him useless why would Bakugou try so hard to force Deku into a power hierarchy?? In this essay I will-

MHA tweets pt.9 (continuation of pt.8)

for the last prompt:

“Don’t touch those books, sweetie. They have souls.”

Miranda hesitated with her fingers poised over a golden spine. 

“Excuse me?” she asked, wide-eyed and more than a little fearful. 

The librarian simply rolled her eyes, adjusting the hem of her coffee-colored sweater. “Did you not read the danger signs we passed?” 

Slowly, Miranda lowered her hands and laced them behind her back. “Thought that was another of Dougie’s pranks,” she murmured quietly. 

The librarian sighed.

“Miss Pickery-"

“I still don’t know why you hired my brother,” Miranda interrupted, eyes slipping back to the shiny, golden book she had been tempted to pull off the shelf. “He’s not exactly…bookish. Or terribly employable.”

“Well, he doesn’t attempt to touch the books with souls, for one,” the librarian replied. 

Miranda pressed her lips together firmly, attention slipping guiltily to the carpeted floor and catching on an oblong stain that the librarian gestured to with the toe of her heeled boot.

“And he doesn’t suffer the consequences of such misbehavior like my previous apprentice, Ronald.”

Miranda couldn’t help the startled gasp that left her as she drew her arms closer to the center of her body, head whipping back and forth in the narrow aisle to ensure no part of her was near any part of these…these murdering, soul-having books.  

Seriously, if Miranda had known about Ronald the Oblong Stain when she’d received her brother’s stupid email about checking out his “cool new job”, Miranda would have deleted it without a second thought. Unread, unreplied to, and un…un-in danger, Miranda thought sternly. 

The librarian frowned back at her, all sharp featured and unimpressed, like she was privy to Miranda’s imaginary word making.  

“U-um, so where is Dougie, anyway, Miss?”

“Late,” the librarian replied. She raised her right wrist to peer at a square watch wrapped over her sweater sleeve, the arms curved like octopus tentacles and spinning far faster than the plain, round one on Miranda’s own wrist. “Or perhaps early, depending.”

“Depending on what?”

“Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be conversing with Ronald, instead,” the librarian murmured to herself, causing a deep frown to appear over Miranda’s face. 

Oblong Stain-Man, one. Miranda, zero. 

“Well, he invited me here,” Miranda petulantly reminded the woman. “I’m still not sure why, but I doubt it was to kill me so is it possible for us to wait for him in a different section of the library? Maybe one without, you know, danger signs?”

The librarian gave Miranda a swift once-over, then peered up at the ceiling, expression unchanging. 

“No. Here will do.”

“Oh, okay,” Miranda whispered shakily. “I’ll just stay here and try not to turn into goo, then.”

“Oh, pish posh,” the librarian dismissed, waving her hand in the air. “That Evelyn has much more flare than that. She would have ignited you, most definitely.”

“E-Evelyn?” Miranda repeated, peering behind herself for other, potentially-murderous library patrons. Perhaps one carrying a blowtorch.

“The book you were going to touch,” the librarian explained. “She has quite a flair for the dramatic, that girl. Your death would have been very phoenix-like.”

Miranda eyed the golden-spined book with far more wariness than before. 

“Phoenix-like…” she echoed. “Like…as in I’d come back to life?”

The librarian’s nose scrunched. “As in you’d go up in a spark of flames and crumble to ash before you could say-”

“Mimi!” Dougie called out happily, appearing in a cart-like contraption over their heads. Dougie tugged gently on a hanging rope within his cart and the whole thing slowed to a squeaky stop.

Miranda eyed the small cylinder of metal attaching the cart to the track embedded in the ceiling with open skepticism. 

“Took ya long enough,” he said, smiling. 

“Took me-?!” Miranda began to sputter, only to be silenced by a hand from the librarian. 

“Douglas,” she greeted calmly. “Anything to report?”

Dougie’s smile turned slightly bashful, and he scratched the back of his head. “Not yes, Miss. But with Mimi here, things should be fixed in a snap!” 

“I fucking hate that name,” Miranda muttered darkly beneath her breath.

“Quit whining, girl,” the librarian said, not unkindly. “It’s time to go.” 

“Please,” Miranda agreed, quickly ascending the thin, metal stairs that had stretched out from Dougie’s cart like a particularly slow accordion. She would happily go anywhere to get away from Evelyn and Ronald and who knows who else. 

The librarian followed quickly after. 

“Where are we going?” Miranda asked, cringing at the grating noise emanating from the ceiling as the cart rocked jerkily back into motion. “To lunch?”

Dougie’s email had promised lunch. 

“Uhhh, not to lunch,” Dougie admitted, ignoring Miranda’s heavily disappointed sigh. “We need you to fix something, actually.”

“And it’s not a sandwich?” Miranda pressed hopefully. 

“Sorry, sis,” Dougie laughed. “It’s…uh, well it’s a little bit bigger than that.”

“These swinging death cages, then?” she tried next. Because they could use some serious oiling, but otherwise seemed mostly stable. Even if the eccentric design didn’t invite anything but distrust. 

Dougie pulled on the rope again as they entered a new room and Miranda brought her hands up to cover her ears while she peered curiously over the edge of the cart, still hoping in vain for a cafe or a bistro. 

What she saw instead was a massive, boiler-looking thing, with moving arms on just about every square inch of its rusting, bronze surface, rounded caps lifting periodically to release hissing trails of white steam. 

What really caught her attention, though, was the small door built into its base, boasting a massive dent and an odd array of talon-like scratches along its surface. And one scrawled out word. 

Miranda Pickery. 

“...well,” Miranda said slowly, hands falling to her hips as she quietly examined the structure. “Surely I’m not the only Miranda Pickery in the area. Total coincidence, really.”

The librarian’s wrinkly hand landed on Miranda’s shoulder, her other pointing towards the far end of the boiler room. 

Miranda followed her gaze to a large, hand-painted mural spanning the entire length of the flaking wall. The figures were all done in black, or perhaps a very deep blue, and nearly impossible to make out in the dim space. The orange light from the boiler only illuminated the lowest section, where there were rows and rows of what looked like people, carrying stacks of what looked like books, and a few, hanging, claw-like feet that suggested an array of birds above their heads. 

The librarian clapped and the space flooded with blue light. Hovering orbs lined the room like street lamps- above the boiler but below the cart- revealing a concerning amount of bookshelves lining this room, too. 

A concerning amount of bookshelves and Miranda’s likeness, that is, painted in the very center of the mural with such detail that any hopes of pawning off this mystery onto some other hapless sod immediately wilted and died within her heart. 

“Oh,” Miranda said dumbly. 

“Oh,” the librarian agreed. 

“So…” Dougie started, awkwardly clapping his hands together. “Lunch, anyone?”

WRITING PROMPTS - Library

A 24/7 library has no staff, but those who enter never think to steal.

"We can't make out! This is a library!"

A magical university has a library that changes its contents entirely whenever it hits midnight.

"Shh! Reading time."

A library is the only building unaffected by a massive earthquake.

"Where did you get that book?"

A group of academics decide they want to be buried alive in the cursed library that the government are burying.

"Don't touch those books, sweetie. They have souls."

Support course! Deku <3

literally 😭💚

Writers' Resolutions

A bunch of resolutions for writers and people who want to try writing this year. It's in no way something you must do, these are just ideas how you can set out to improve your writing in the new year.

Try something new

Try to write something you have never written before.

Write something silly, write something serious, write in a different genre, try to write characters that you haven't explored yet.

Write consistently

Writing consistently will not only give you exercise to become a better writer, it can also keep your voice as a writer consistent.

If you have a first draft, write it down quickly and without big breaks inbetween.

Don't wait for inspiration

Waiting for inspiration to come can take forever. So don't wait for inspiration: search for it.

Make writing into a habit that comes natural to you every day, look up writing prompts, read a book you like, get yourself into the mood to write and do it!

Do your research

As a writer, you need to know about a lot of different things.

You can do research by reading books, listening to podcasts, watching movies, talking to other people, etc.

Take this year to learn something new and then tell your reader all about it.

Edit that draft

We all have that one story we wrote a while ago and then stopped at the first draft.

Take it and reread it and then rewrite it. You have a new perspective on it now and maybe this will be the year you turn your idea into a book.

Set yourself a goal

This explicitly doesn't have to be a goal about how many words or pages you write.

Your goal can be to finish something, to edit something, to write a few sentences every day, to share more of your writing or to publish something.

Don't compare

Try not to compare your writing with that of someone else.

Writing is about finding your own voice and telling a story that only you can tell. Also: other people's accomplishes don't diminish your own!

Write!

Whatever the outcome of your writing may be and whatever you want to do with it, if you want to publish it, if you want to share it with friends, or if you want to keep it to yourself: just start writing!

Do what you love to do.

To all my lovely writers, I wish you a great year, may everything work out in your favour!

- Jana

Hi! For the writing ask game, #17 for to kill a dead thing or #6 for the seven station chronicles, whichever you prefer :)

Ooooh okay! Going to go with #17 because I don’t really have an interesting answer for #6

pick a color to represent each character.

Alexi: dull gold (#F0CF03)

Andreia: vivid cyan (#12E3F0)

Viv: electric green (#33E807)

Iskra: dark blue (#05188C)

The Thief: bright purple (#9711F3)

Izzy: bright red (#F90400)

Toshka: dark green (#107014)

I hope you like them! Thank you for the ask :)

Just felt like I needed to freak out a little bit about how Katsuki had the All Might card physically on him when he died. Not tucked away somewhere safe, not in a locker or in a card binder, actually physically with him as he fought Shigaraki

Because for all the grief he gives Izuku about sentimentality, keeping a card on him that specifically ties him to Izuku is about as sentimental as it is possible for a person to be

chat what if your gay lover left you to become a depressed vigilante

Writing requests are open!

From now through March you can send me an ask with a (sfw) prompt you'd like me to write! As long as I'm comfortable with it, I'll start working on my responses in April.

Prompts can be for fic or your own original idea and while I mostly write for MHA, if you have smth else in mind there's no harm in asking if I'm familiar with the fandom :)

also, if you're interested in any of the fic wips i've talked about on here (or my in-progress ao3 fics) you can send me an ask with the title and i'll be sure to set aside time to work on them and share snippets of my progress! (fic wips listed below the cut)

I'm excited to see your prompts!!

tumblr fic wips

short for grenade: talked about here, here, and here a la three wise men and a baby (i seriously need a better title for this series lmao): part 1 & part 2 probably not, dabihawks version: here (and the official, slightly more polished version of the platonic-ish bkdk 'probably not' piece is on ao3 here) let it sink in: here spelling bee monster: mentioned at the bottom of the fake tweet post, here trophy husband, who?: here cat-suki: here (legitimately forgot i'd posted about this one lol)

ao3 wips

summer daze: here little troubles: here