#↳ BONDS ; KATSUKI BAKUGOU || detonizing ❛ the struggle you are up against makes you what you are ❜

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A gift for @detonizing​ A companion piece to THIS Paired with MUSIC for added effect

It’s only after she’s in the room alone with him, that the tears finally come. The moment the door clicks shut her features twists, expression so pinched tight that it makes the muscles in her face ache, a headache blooming behind her forehead as the sheer force of agony finally hits her. It must be ugly. Enough that he’d make fun of her if he could see it. Feet refuse to cooperate, planted firmly just passed the threshold, as her gaze finds the bed. Small and clinical, lined with cream colored sheets. They are alone now, in this room that cannot decide what to be. Soft blue paint and landscape paintings line the walls in an attempt to be comforting that merely comes off impersonal. He lays on a mattress now, instead of the dirt. Nicolette only knows she’s crying by the way her vision swims, eyes burning like they’ve been rubbed with salt. She feels it on her cheeks, tastes it in the corners of her lips, yet the room remains eerily silent, as if filled with more than one corpse. Maybe in a way, it is.

This is where she’s come to die.

Even if her body will walk out of here fully alive, something inside her has already been broken beyond repair. The ever-present void in her heart has become a blackhole, pulling everything within. What use does she have for a useless instrument such as this? It has done her no favors— this much has been made clear, from the way it tears a hole through her very chest, as if desperate to get out... seeking the thing that helped it work again, after being broken once before. But that thing is gone, and so she supposes this must be a funeral, as well as a goodbye. Hers, before his. She will leave it here, with him, where it belongs. A living corpse has no need for a heart, for a soul, for anything at all, but cold emptiness. 

She moves without meaning to, and before she knows it her legs have carried her to the bedside. Both eyes stare down at his still form, refusing to go anywhere else even though she cannot bear to look at him. He seems peaceful, as if asleep, face wiped clean and features relaxed, but she knows the proof of his condition lies just beneath the blanket. It’s too soon for the damage to be hidden— they have not yet taken his body and dressed him in his finest suit, nor brushed his skin to look warm and alive. He looks peaceful, but also cold. He does not look anything else, but dead. This will be the image that haunts her forever, she thinks. She will never forget it.

The absence of life, or the feeling of his blood on her hands ( her arms, her chest, her face, her mouth— ).

When scarred fingers reach out to touch, his flesh is cool and solid. It’s what she expected, and yet it adds a new weight, like a punch to the gut that knocks all the air from her lungs. He doesn’t even feel human, anymore. It’s too soon. To fast. It’s all happening too quickly, and she can’t keep up. He feels so far away, even though he’s only right in front of her, though... she supposes in reality, he’s already somewhere she cannot reach. Her arms find their away around him anyway and she leans down over the bed, trying her best not to disturb his body as both arms wrap around his shoulders. Her forehead rests against his temple and for a moment it’s like she’s in that field again, holding him close. Like she’s the only thing keeping him from collapsing into nothing— a pillar he can lean on for support that will never forsake him. Never fail him. But she did. And this was the price she paid for it.

Both arms tremble as they hug him closer, and Nicolette stills as it presses their chests together, forcing out air from his lungs. It leaves his mouth like an exhale, right next to her ear. She knows it means nothing. That it’s just a natural reaction. But the sound fills the empty space, and it tears her asunder. She does it again. And again. And then once more, pulling away slightly before hugging him tightly, repeating. It’s like he’s breathing, there beneath her. It feels wrong, a little twisted even, enough to make her sick with guilt. The hero knows she’s pathetic, for clinging to that facsimile sound of life, but she clings all the same until the tears have long started to dry upon her cheeks.

With eyes closed, it’s like she can pretend that none of this is real. It’s easy to ignore what’s right there in front of you, as long as you cannot see it. Bloodletter knows this best of all, because that has always been the quickest solution to her problems. She does not look directly at the things that hurt, for there has always been many and it has always been too much. There has never been anywhere for that pain to go but inward, pushed deep and sealed tight so that it might remain there forever. Compartmentalizing was an early developed skill, refined and perfected since the beginning of a torturous youth— it might’ve been the only thing that got her through it, the only reason she was still here. Right now... Nicolette almost wishes it hadn’t. Suddenly the trauma of that past that once seemed so unbearably large and soul-crushing is nothing compared to the feeling that sits within her chest, now. It is collapsing her lungs, rotting her from the inside out, and she knows without a shadow of doubt as she cradles this body in her arms:

❛ This is the thing that will destroys me. ❜ 

It is not a defeat on the battlefield or a death at the hands of a villain. It is a vicious and brutal hallowing of her very being. To have her insides carved away, leaving nothing but vacant space in its wake. Who would’ve thought that emptiness could be the thing that finally killed her? The thing that hurt her, most of all. No physical wound could bleed like this. No phantom pain of a scar could ache so deep. She had always known that life was unfair; being a child orphaned through untimely death and living through what felt like a punishment for surviving, she had learned it young. The world was cruel and bleak. Not even a society of heroes could change that. All they did was hide the ugliness beneath a thin sheet of hope— that if the Gods above would not heed the prayers of mortals, the ones blessed with power could be worshipped in their place.

She has never once believed in such foolish things, yet she finds herself begging, anyway. Hunched over the bed and clinging to a corpse, the hero pleads to Gods that will not listen and heroes that are only human, for a miracle. Her silent mourning has been given a voice once again as desperate wailing fills the room, a perfect mimicry of the moment she’d caught his bleeding body in her arms and felt the world collapse around her, echoing with the screaming of a banshee. How his parting words haunted her even now— an apology towards the final person to ever betray him through failure. One last joke, a sadistic mockery pointing out just how tragically incompetent she truly was. Incapable of saving herself, so he’d gone it down it for her, time and time again.

Perhaps it had been pure selfishness that pushed her to latch onto him, in the beginning. Like a mother bird imprinting on a child that was not her own. She had seen herself in Katsuki, and it was a reflection she hated to see, yet could not look away from. Despite being a hero, Nicolette had never quite wanted to save anyone the way she had wanted to save him. He was so deserving of it, but the world was unfair to him, as it had been unfair to her. It should be her body laying here. It should be her story coming to a close. There isn’t a single fucking thing she can offer to anyone else, anymore. ❝ Please... please, I can’t— ❞ It’s nothing but a broken sob, ❝ I can’t do this... I’m not good like him. I’m not strong... I’m not— ❞ I’m not enough. I have never been enough. ❝ I’m sorry... I’m sorry— please don't do this to me, please-- !! ❞ But it has already been done.

It’s over.

Muffled voices can be heard from the hallway, and Nicolette knows that her time is up. She is not so selfish as to remain here while others wait in queue to mourn. It’s fine, anyway. She has nothing left to give. This is the second and last time that Nicolette will ever let him go, and it is not by pitying hands that forcefully tear him from her desperately clinging arms. This time, when she lets him go, it with a mechanical slowness that speaks not of acceptance, but meaningless defeat. Her expression falls to cold apathy as her gaze lingers on his face for a final moment. When she leaves the room, a sound like shattering glass is the last thing she hears. And then, she is gone.

            Bakugou Katsuki is dead.                         What else is there to say?

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Unprompted » ALWAYS ACCEPTING

@detonizing​ asked:  " Just because I interned with you ONE time doesn't mean you can use that as an excuse to call for me whenever the hell you want. My class isn't even doing internships right now. " And surely Bloodletter already knew this ( which was why she was bothering him on a Saturday ) but Katsuki complained anyways, because if Bloodletter was going to send him a million (two) texts under the guise for his 'internship training' then he's absolutely going to call her out on it. Even if he listened to the texts and went to her despite knowing there was really no need to. " So? What is it this time? Clothes shopping? Grocery shopping? You just want a damn servant, don't you. "

All complaints went through one ear and out the other, as they often did with him and anyone else that attempted to criticize her. When one lived in the spotlight as she did, there was certainly not shortage of people with opinions, warranted or otherwise— you either learned to ignore it and move on, or got crushed under the weight of people pleasing until you were nothing but a hollow shell. Granted, Katsuki wasn’t just some nameless citizen looking to gripe. If anything, he understood her devil-may-care attitude quite well, seeing as they shared the same indifference for others’ opinions of them ( even if that callousness was sometimes feigned ).

Regardless, she was still being nagged, and whether it was coming from him or not— or perhaps because it was coming from him— the pro hero had no intention of accepting feedback after this long. Save it for her agency’s suggestion box or social media DMs. ❝ You’re saying that, but you’re here, aren’t you? ❞ Nicolette cuts through the bullshit and gives him a knowing look, but there’s sincerity behind her teasing smirk, whether he chooses to see it or not.

❝ First of all, ❞ she begins after his cruel accusation, holding up a finger, ❝ I resent that! ❞ Conveniently, she does not outright deny any of it, but still! It’s the principle! ❝ Second, ❞ another finger, ❝ it’s not like I can just call it ❛ hanging out ❜ can I? People would think I was a total loser, and you’d deny it anyway which would just make me look more pathetic! ❞ Again, no specifying if she was or wasn’t, but it wasn’t really cool to be friends with a teenager, especially when they were basically your closest companion. Her fans would have a field day with that information, and her antis even moreso. He just didn’t get it! 

He probably wouldn’t even call her his friend in private, let alone public! 

His mocking suggestions inspire a scoff as she rolls her eyes, bristling in indignation, and no, she is absolutely not pouting. ❝ Actually, ❞ she stresses the word, ❝ I have a photoshoot today for my side job. And I definitely wanted you to be there. ❞ Bloodletter won’t admit that it’s because she’s modeling pieces made by his very own parents, figuring it’d be funny to see his reaction and simultaneously useful to get his opinions. ❝ I’ll treat you to lunch afterwards if you want— you can pick where. ❞

❝ Also I can’t believe you’d even think I’d take you grocery shopping— we both know you do all of that for me when you come over anyway, unless you thought I’d bring you to the convenience store to pick up some bento and ramen. No thanks! You’d just bite my damn dead off again if I even reached for one in your presence! ❞

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KILLINGBOMB:

“I said cut it out! I’m fine.”  He could feel his ever present anger seething, rejecting the implication that he was weak, needed to get coddled over insignificant scratches. ( nevermind that he could feel the steady stream of blood dripping from his arm, or that his right leg ached with every step he took. ) He was fine. Something like this wasn’t ‘bout to stop him.

Not to mention he didn’t even know this woman. Some pro hero or another that he wasn’t interested in getting to know. And absolutely would not want to be looked down on. So what if he was still a student? He was going to be nothing less than the best hero. “We need to find a way out of this shithole first. There may be actual civilians in need of help, aren’t you a hero? We need to focus on finding them first.”

Rolling her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes, Nicolette was sure she could feel wrinkles beginning to form between knitted brows. ❝ Can you SHUT UP for a second so I can focus? The more you BITCH, the longer this is gonna take. I already told you, I ain’t afraid to knock yer ass out to finish this. It’s just us in here, remember? And even if you snitch, I’d rather have rumors spread that I hit kids than have people think I let one bleed to death on my watch without doing anything. ❞

Inspecting the wound on his arm further upon peeling back the torn fabric of his costume, the Bleeding Hero cursed under her breath. It was difficult to see through all the blood, but it was fairly deep. Deep enough that applying the bandages from her thigh pouch would be a waste of time. Thankfully her quirk and blood type would allow a swift fix— well, as swift as she could be if he insisted on screaming in her ear again.

❝ Unfortunately for me, I’m about to give you something else to yell about, because this’ll probably HURT. Make sure not to bite yer tongue off. ❞ Pulling the small vial of disinfectant from the pouch and ripping off a piece of bandage with her teeth, she began pouring the liquid into the gash and using the cloth to wipe inside it as gently as she possibly could, praying to god she got out all the dirt and rubble that had inevitably collected during the building’s collapse.

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Not me getting photoshop and immediately making a Bakugou aesthetic for @killingbomb​ lmao

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Wow Nicolette, how come mom let’s you have 7 STARS ? It’s not fair that @detonizing​ just thinks you’re so fucking COOL and PERFECT !!

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ohhhhh look what bitch has some new iconsssss !!!

all thanks to @killingbomb​ whom i owe my life they are truly a god send who is way too nice to me ;;;

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SONIC THE HEDGEHOG FANDUB STARTERS » ACCEPTING

@detonizing​ asked:  “ i mean that fits me but die. ”

❝ That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think? Don’t get pissy at ME just because you’re predictable— ❞ Both words and laughter are cut off as Nicolette barely manages to dodge the hand coming her way, poised and ready to release an explosion right at her smug expression. She dances out of the way, still chuckling at the cross between anger and embarrassment flushing across his face, and it’s just another reminder that no matter how mature he acts, he’s still just a kid.

Though it might be a fruitless endeavor, Nicolette wants to nurture and protect that side of him for as long as possible, even if she’s fighting against the whole of hero society to do so. 

❝ I swear, you’re just like those little boys in grade school that tug on girls’ pigtails because they have a crush and don’t know how to express it! ❞ This seems to strike a nerve and leaves him sputtering curses and insults, making her howls with laughter. She’d had a sneaking suspicion about this very topic for quite sometime, but even with how close they’d gotten it always seemed like a forbidden subject she wasn’t allowed to touch or speak on; however, things had changed a lot since Bakugou’s stay in the hospital and subsequent recovery. Somehow, though unspoken, it felt like she had a lot more leeway and permission to talk about these things with him. ❝ I really need to meet this guy— don’t worry Katsu-chaaaan~ I’m your biggest supporter! You can confide in me, I’ll even be your wingman! ❞

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SONIC THE HEDGEHOG FANDUB STARTERS » ACCEPTING

@detonizing​​ asked: “ no! not at all, it looks really gross. ”

❝ Hey! What the hell, brat, I worked really hard on these! ❞ A pout plays at her lips as the hand holding coffee stained papers, featuring the preliminary sketches of her redesigned winter hero costume, is pulled away, effectively hiding the ideas behind her back as if to protect them from his vitriol. ❝ Look, I designed my regular costume too, you know, and I haven’t heard any complaints yet! ❞ Well, maybe that wasn’t quite true. Some people seemed to think she showed too much skin to be taken seriously, but anyone who thought like that didn’t hold an opinion she valued, anyway.

Most of her fans thought she looked great! And, sure, maybe her winter costume wasn’t designed with the full intention of warmth... but she’d look hot! Sex appeal was important, too!

❝ God, just because your parents are geniuses doesn’t mean you have to act like such a fashion snob! I know plenty about what looks good! ❞ Nicolette is definitely throwing a tantrum now, making it clear that despite her dramatics, his words have wounded her feelings just a little. ❝ You’re so mean to me! This is elder abuse! ❞ She moves as if to rip the sketches to shreds, deeming them entirely worthless, because despite how lame he usually dressed, Katuski definitely knew about societal fashion trends, and if he says it looks that bad... then maybe he’s got a point; however, just before she goes through with it, the hero chooses to slam them on the table instead and point aggressively at them. ❝ Fine! Help me, then! Tell me how to fix them! ❞

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✏️

send  ✏️ for incorrect quote » ACCEPTING

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❝ You should see the other guy! Well, actually— you might not want to! ❞ It’s not a pretty sight... not like her, at least! 

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“You know I may be able to tolerate you but sometimes you really push it…”

Irritation - Sentence Memes » ACCEPTING || @detonizing​

❝ Ooooh~ TOLERATE me, huh? I didn’t realize we were already so close! ❞

Flashing a signature shit-eating grin in his direction, Nicolette couldn’t resist teasing him just a little more. It was so rare for him to be this open— usually insisting that he could barely even stand to be in the same room as her, so what better way to respond than to immediately make him regret it? Moving faster than he could possibly react to, her right hand darted out and began viciously ruffling his hair, expression becoming threatening.

❝ Aww !! You’re just so SWEET sometimes, you know? It’s okay to admit that we’re already FRIENDS, Kaaatsuuukiii !! ❞ She cooed affectionately.

Translation: tolerate me, huh, brat? I’ll give you something to tolerate! How’s this for pushing it?