#also i tried adding more detail to the shading but it ended up looking worse somehow

[parab0mb]

So I wanted to take a jab at drawing Magical Tennis Girl Naomi BOWsaka (based on this outfit) and was initially just going to do a quick sketch but uh... I might've locked in and got a bit carried away 😅.

That said, this might honestly be one of my personal favorite art pieces I've made this year, and I'm all the happier it's a Bow Kid oriented piece since I haven't done a proper drawing of her in ages.

(also shoutouts to @hoshungen and their Tennis Bow Kid drawing since they beat me to the punch and it deserves praise as well 😁).

[amarylliasky]

Number 12!

Attendant of the Prince’s Palace AU

Kim Rok Soo stared at the small mirror in his quarters. It’s cracked edges doing nothing to hide the distinctly young face reflected on its surface. This was not his face. This kid couldn’t be more than sixteen, judging by his height and stature, with innocent (roundish?) eyes and slightly plump cheeks. He then noticed strands of brown hair falling in front of his face, unlike his own black hair. It was also quite long, around shoulder length, if he had to guess.

The next thing he noticed was that he couldn’t quite see the kid’s features. Sure, he could tell that he was in the body of a teenager, and he could make out the basic face shape because he was so close to the mirror, but he couldn’t make out the finer details of things like the shape of his nose and lips. Furthermore, he couldn’t tell the exact shade of the kid’s eyes and hair because the room was only barely lit by the sun peeking through closed curtains of a singular window.

Judging by the fact that everything in his line of sight appeared as if through an unfocused camera lens, Rok Soo guessed that this kid needed glasses.

Fumbling around the surface of the small wooden vanity, which was just a desk with a mirror sitting on it, his hand eventually met the frame of a pair of thin rimmed glasses a little to his right.

As he placed them on his face, he couldn’t help but notice that he still had a bit of trouble seeing clearly. Carefully walking to the window, he swiftly opened the curtains and had to squint at the light that flooded the small bedroom. Hmm, even with the light, he still a bit of trouble distinguishing smaller details. Did the kid have even worse eyesight than he thought? Or maybe he was just too poor to afford the correct prescription. Seeing as how the only pieces of furniture in the room included the desk/vanity, a small wardrobe, and an equally small bed, he would guess the latter.

Looking again into the small mirror with the added light and clarity, what really stuck out to him was the kid’s eyes. While they were in fact round and innocent, unlike his own thirty six year old stereotypical Korean eyes, they were apparently the exact same shade of reddish brown as his own. But that was where the similarities ended. It also appeared that the kid’s hair was not just brown, but a rich shade of cherry brown; and the strands of what was probably soft, silk-like hair fell stiffly over small thin shoulders.

The next, quite startling thing he noticed was the tear tracks lining the kid’s cheeks, and very noticeable eye bags. Overall, a very miserable picture greeted Kim Rok Soo in almost-clarity. He definitely needed to find out who this child was and what on earth was going on.

Knock Knock Knock

Three very loud knocks snapped him out of his thoughts. What should he do? Was it the kid’s parents? Siblings? What could he say? ‘Sorry, your son isn’t here right now. Please hold while the transmigrator tries to figure out how to stop possessing him.’ Yeah, no. Should he just open the door? That seemed to be the only option.

“Mister Aster? Are you awake? It’s Miya. I was sent to check on you after you never showed up to take the First Prince his breakfast.”

Okay so this kid was named Aster. Kim Rok Soo, no, Aster calmly thought about the information he was just given. The girl outside his room was Miya, most likely a servant. His name was Aster, also probably a servant, judging by how he was supposed to take some food to a prince. That’s another thing, the First Prince.

He couldn’t help but be reminded of the book he had just been reading before waking up here. Crown Prince Alberu Crossman was the first prince of the Roan Kingdom in The Birth of a Hero, and a powerful supporting character after the second major incident in the book.

If he was in that very same book, and there was hardly any evidence to support that theory, then there was only one way to confirm.

“What is the First Prince’s name?”

He probably sounded like an idiot to not even know the name of the person he was serving. The other servant, Miya, must have thought so as well, as her reply held an undertone of bafflement.

“How could you forget the name of the First Prince? Even if you’ve only worked in the Palace of Joy for a few months, surely you haven’t forgotten the very Alberu Crossman, whom you serve?”

That confirmed it alright. First of all, the Palace of Joy was the palace that the king in The Birth of a Hero had built for his first son; and furthermore, the First Prince he worked for was indeed named Alberu Crossman. He had no choice but to admit that he had transmigrated into The Birth of a Hero as a random extra who doesn’t even appear in the book.

He heard shuffling on the other side of the door, as if the maid was nervously stepping from foot to foot. Heaving out a sigh of resignation, he trudged to the door.

“Um, Mister Aster? I didn’t mean to insult you or anything. I know it’s been really hard for you these last few days. Believe me, I didn’t want to disturb your mourning-“ She was interrupted as the door swung open.

She was startled by his appearance, no doubt because of his tear stained face and overall haggard expression. Wait, she say mourning? Was this kid mourning someone? He didn’t like the sound of that. It could spell trouble for him if he couldn’t play along well enough. But how was he supposed to mourn for someone he didn’t even know?

“A-apologies, Mister Aster, I didn’t realize…” She stopped talking upon noticing his blank expression. What could he do? He didn’t know anything about the original Aster’s behavior. He would just have to wing it.

“It’s okay. I’m doing a bit better now. I’ll be ready soon.” He tried adding a bit of fatigue in his voice. It wasn’t too hard, he was always both mentally and physically exhausted in his life as Kim Rok Soo. Keeping his eyes to the ground, he let his shoulders slump just a little. He was still a servant, so it probably wasn’t proper etiquette for him to slouch all the way.

“Oh, um, take your time! If you want, I can bring the First Prince his breakfast for you!”

He finally looked at her, noting the nervousness in her light green eyes. Was she afraid of the First Prince? Or was it something else? He did remember that in the book, the Crown Prince didn’t have any backing, so perhaps she was scared of getting on the Second and Third Prince’s bad side? If that was the case, why would she go this far for him? Sure, she acted familiar with the original Aster, but she didn’t seem as if she had interacted with the First Prince like he had. She might even work in another palace.

Regardless, her actions benefited him. It would buy him some time to adjust if she went in his stead, also, he would be able to do a little investigation into the life of his current body.

“You would really do that?” He sounded sincere, as if he really was awed by her selflessness. “Thank you so much.” He gave her a grateful smile. “I promise I will make this up to you, Miss Miya.” For some reason, she seemed to take his words quite well, as she energetically replied to him.

“Of course! It’s the least I can do! After all, you work the hardest out of all the palace servants! And I’m not just saying that! You always offer your help when anyone needs it! You even voluntarily went to work at the Palace of Joy!”

Sounds like this “Aster” was a total pushover.

Leaving the blank faced servant to his own devices, or “mourning,” Miya briskly walked down the hall, her braided hair swaying behind her.

Click. The door clicked shut and Aster was left alone in the small bedroom once again.

Time to do some digging.

///////

So this is the first snippet of “Attendant of the Prince’s Palace.” What do you think?

Also, shout out to @our-planet-is-going-to-explode for the idea of naming him Aster!

[squircatlies]

Today is the day I unleash my Mr. Bonzo fanart upon this webbed site.

This post is relatively safe up until the cut.

Is the *tips fedora* meme over a decade old? Yes. Do I care? No, absolutely not.

~

Now this is where I recommend "getting off" this post to anyone bothered by graphic depictions of body horror, blood, violence, or Mr. Bonzo (monster, not mascot like above).

I know the first image is silly, but I cannot stress enough how serious I am when I say:

Proceed at your own risk.

Now that you have chosen to continue, I have arranged the images in order of least to most vile and disturbing (though that might be slightly subjective on my part).

Remember that you can click off this post at any time.

Final warning: split tongue Bonzo.

I tried channeling Julia Drawfee with the lineart a little bit. Didn't feel like shading that one, so it's a bit flat.

Where did I lose my colours? Plot twist: the first image in this post is actually the last I've made, so technically I gained the colours. I wanted it to have more of a cheery vibe, unlike the ones under the cut, which I wanted to be kinda dreary and I feel like adding too much colour can mess that up.

Alright, I'll address the tongue. Remember how his head splits in tmagp 12? Yeah, it's a nod to that and also I asked myself "how do I make his design worse than it already is?" and that's the only answer I could come up with. I debated adding stitches connesting the two halves of the tongue but couldn't figure out how, so you're welcome. It will be present in all the upcoming drawings as well.

~

The next one is bloody, but it's not that much worse than the previous one overall.

I was playing with filters after I was done with this piece, because I felt like it lacked something, but didn't know what. Really liked this one, I think it's some sort of a gradient map. It pixelised the image and adjusted the colours a bit, it also really made the blood pop out, though it covered up some of the details.

Why did he lose his hat? It's stupid and hard to draw.

You may have noticed the artstyle change a little, the previous images having neat lineart and little to no shading. That's because I am using different tools, sketchy and soft brushes, that allow me to experiment with lighting and textures more (plus the aforementioned filter altering the image even further).

~

Alright, I feel like this last image deserves a separate warning. It references episode 12 (spoiler ahead), specifically the moment before the bartender loses a hand, though it's not entirely accurate. It's rendered in more detail than any of the previous images, so keep that in mind before scrolling down.

Basically it's pov: Bonzo licks your hand.

I feel like I could've made his tongue bigger in this one, it seems kinda small compared to his mouth. I really like how the skin on his face ended up looking. It took a lot of work.

The spit makes it look weirdly sexual, doesn't it? Listen, that was not my intention, but I'm not erasing it. I set out to make the worst thing I could and, though not without cost, I have achieved it.

I tried splattering Bonzo in blood, but it wasn't really working for me and it covered up a lot of the detail I liked, so I just put it in the background.

The human hand is drawn from reference, which I found by googling "hand reaching out away from the viewer". And let me tell you: google is shit at looking for drawing references, but I figured it was just going to be a sketch to explore an idea, so I didn't bother trying to get a better one. And then I fixated on it for a couple hours, you know, like a normal person.

I literally (and I mean no exaggeration) dusted off my drawing tablet after a few months of no use to spend the entire weekend, after tmagp 12 came out, glued to the screen making those images, except for the b'onzo one, which I made this evening.

Just to clarify: I drew all of those by myself. No filthy AI image generation is allowed in this house. I am capable of committing far greater sins than an artificial intelligence ever will.

The only thing left here is to extend my sincere congratulations/condolences to whoever got this far. It's up to you to either think you're brave or realise that you're foolish for doing so, but be comforted by the fact that at least you didn't make this post, which I cannot say for myself.

[lemontartca]

Rum Update #3

Okay I did layers 2 and 3 of her faceup today and more... learning experiences, lol.

Layer 2 was kind of a disaster. First, I definitely did too much shading/contouring on layer 1. I also did too much MSC (it was my first time spraying it, I had no idea what I was doing), and my droplet/blotting incident made one side streaky and trying to blend it out only made the splotchiness from the rough texture worse. I really like how the eyeshadow I did came out, but trying to blend the splotchy side of the face made it obviously darker than the other and in the end I... gave up. I tried to erase it, which made the splotchiness worse to the point I went scorched earth and got acetone. That was very touch and go and honestly I still haven't decided if that was a good or bad call. I think neutral because it kind of wrapped back around to where it started, meaning it's no worse but still a time waste. Anyway I washed the whole side away twice trying to make it less splotchy and match the side I liked more. I decided to go ahead and seal in what I had eventually because I needed the MSC back to give the clean side tooth again before I could try to build it up.

That took me about an hour. I let that sit for half an hour before going in for layer 3, which took me about an hour and a half. That one went... better, although the left side of the face still has enough splotchy/streakiness that all the undoing kind of felt pointless, especially since it made her eyeshadow suffer on that side too and I really like how it looks on the "good" side.

I was getting nowhere with her yellow eyes on the orange vinyl until I remembered you can wet the watercolor pencils to get more color and that helped with payoff. Unfortunately, I don't have the reds and oranges I need to pull off my plan, and I'm honestly not sure how possible it is without paint, but I locked in my base colors and I plan to go back for one last layer fixing up the lips and brows (they're only loosely sketched in rn) and adding the highlights and details into the eyes as much as possible. She's also supposed to have a soft white stripe down the center of her face that I tried to do but really doesn't show up on camera so I'm trying to decide if I'm leaving that as is or going to try committing more to it.

Here she is right now. Behind her is my original plan for her faceup. Color is a little blown out from my lighting but she's coming out way better than I worried she might! I was afraid I'd be terrible at this and I think I'm just learning right now and it'll get way better with practice :) I'm planning to change the black stripe placement to cover up some of the stripey/splotchiness on her left cheek (you can't really see it head on, just from that side. Unfortunately my doll shelf is positioned so that's the side facing me in the room). I'll bust out paints for the stripes and probably - eventually - use them on the eyes too, I just don't have any right now. I was waiting to see how I liked this and if pencils were enough before spending more money but I'll definitely be doing more of these so it's worth it lol.

[cafedanslanuit]

♡   —   pairing: kazutora x reader

♡   —   summary: after a long day at work, you want nothing but to spend a calm night with your boyfriend. however, you have no idea this is the night were all his demons finally get the best of him.

♡   —   tags/warnings: female reader, angst, breakups, hurt feelings everywhere, mention on mental illnesses and nightmares, based on ben platt’s song ‘carefully’, mention of tora’s job in one of the future timelines.

♡   —   a/n: i enjoyed writing kazutora so. damn. much. also, i’m quite proud of this one and the small details i added~ thank you @ofoceansandtombstones​​ for being my lovely beta <3

♡   —  masterlist

And all this time you've had a gentle way of holding me

So could you please release me that way too?

— “carefully” by Ben Platt

“It’s open, come in!”

The first thing Kazutora sees when he opens the door of your apartment is you, kneeling on the kitchen floor and picking up pieces of a broken baking dish. Red sauce has splattered everywhere and his mind betrays him for a second, imagining an accident far worse than what has truly happened. He blinks twice and starts to notice the small details that finally slow down the fast beating of his heart. There are pieces of chicken breasts next to the open oven door and what he thinks are sliced carrots next to your right knee.

You hiss when you pick up a piece of the shattered glass, the sharp end pinching your finger. Kazutora comes back to his senses, widening his eyes as he realizes he’s just been standing there.

“Hey, let me. You’ll cut yourself,” he warns, walking up to you. Grabbing both your hands, he eases you into your feet and then guides you to the living room. “I’ll take care of it,” he promises as he goes back to the kitchen and starts cleaning up the mess.

You let yourself fall on the sofa with a loud thud and let out an exasperated sigh.

“I just had the most awful day,” you whine, taking off your apron and leaving it on the arm of the sofa.  “Work was hell, I got scolded by something that I didn’t do— like always, only this time my boss was all like: ‘You gotta be more careful, we wouldn’t want to lose such a valuable employee’. Like he was going to fire me over someone else’s mistake?!”

Your voice is getting louder by the minute and you take advantage of the fact Kazutora is in another room to keep the volume. You have been waiting the entire day to see him and vent about what a trainwreck you day had been. Just as always, he listens intently, the only noise coming from the kitchen being a soft scraping sound as he picks up everything and throws it to the trash. 

“Then, I went to the store and of course they had run out of basil. Tell me, how does a store that big run out of basil?” you ask. There’s no answer from the kitchen so you continue. “I mean, yeah, I could have gone to another store but my feet were killing me. I’m just not meant to work in heels the entire day,” you sigh tiredly, swinging your feet.

You reposition yourself, now sitting cross-legged on the sofa. Putting your right hand on your left shoulder, you stretch your neck, feeling your sore muscles releasing a bit of tension with a small ‘pop’.

“I ended up preparing something entirely different than I had planned for dinner. I tried to let it go but just as I was going to put it in the oven, it slipped my hands and—”

“I think we should break up.”

Words die in your lips the moment you listen to your boyfriend speak. The silence becomes loud and abrasive as you struggle to understand what was happening. Why was Kazutora breaking up with you with such a small voice? What had triggered him to come to that conclusion? Why had he decided to bring it up now? You turn your head to the kitchen door and watch him slowly make his way towards you, doubtful steps as he takes a seat on the other side of the sofa, avoiding your eyes at all costs.

“What?” you ask, your voice hoarse. His lips form a tight line and you see him swallowing nervously.

“I’m not doing okay— haven’t been for a while. I— it’s been two years since I left prison and I still haven’t— I don’t— I don’t know what I’m doing,” he explains, looking down at his hands.

You nod slowly, trying to comprehend where he’s coming from. Turning your body towards him, you take a deep breath before speaking.

“It’s okay not to know,” you assure him in a soft voice. “Just… take it slow. One day at a time and then I’m sure you’ll—”

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Kazutora confesses and you notice his voice wavering a little. “I— I keep having nightmares about— about that day and— and also about the motorcycle shop. Those two mix up and…” he takes one of his hands to the side of his head, his fingers grazing his temple. “And I’m hitting Baji in the head. And there’s so much blood— so, so much blood and—”

Leaning forward, you take his hands. They’re shaking and extremely cold and you rub your thumb over his knuckles, trying your best to soothe him.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now, Tora, you’re—”

Kazutora pulls his hands away hastily, leaving a tingling sensation on your palms.

“I can’t!” he says as he shakes his head. You spend a moment looking at your empty hands, never before having felt your boyfriend’s rejection. “I feel like I’m drowning and— You know what? I think relationships just aren’t for me,” he shrugs, his hands moving in exaggerated gestures. “That’s why I never cared for dating, never got myself involved in that kind of shit, not until—”

He finally looks at you and, fuck, you wish he didn’t. You’re not sure if you have the strength to deal with such hurtful discourse. You lick your lips and take yet another deep breath, deciding to ignore his hurtful remark.

“I’m… so sorry you’re feeling this way,” you say, slowing down your words, trying your best not to show how hurt you were. This isn’t him, you tell yourself. So no need for that tightness in your throat. “But you have to understand it’s not because of me. It’s because of everything that you’ve gone through and how hard it’s to deal with them. I don’t blame you, it is hard. But this… us,” you gesture to the both of you. “This is a good thing. Despite all the pain and hurt we’ve both been through, we—”

“Please, stop,” he says, raising his hand and pressing his eyelids together. “I can’t be with you anymore. That’s it, that’s all—”

“So you don’t love me anymore?” you counter. You scoff in disbelief, shaking your head. Kazutora’s eyes shoot open and you notice his pupils shaking in fear, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I love you,” he breathes out, and for a moment you see the boy you fell in love with in his amber eyes that are quickly filling with tears. “I do love you but it’s killing me. I feel like I’m dying,” he chokes out. He looks away from you once more and starts tugging at his fingers. “I’m rotting inside and I don’t know what to do to make it better. I just want it to stop. I want it to stop and— I don’t want you around when I’m like this. I want to figure out what the hell is happening and—”

“But if you love me and I love you then why—”

“I’m not happy with you!”

Kazutora widens his eyes, scared by his loud outburst. He parts his lips, silently muttering nonsense as he tries to come up with words that can make it better. You lower your head and he wants to punch himself over it. He doesn’t want to make you cry, not after everything you’ve done for him. Is he really going to be the person that hurt the one that made a home for him in her embrace? Is he going to hurt the only person that was brave enough to pick up the pieces of his shattered soul?

“I’m…” he babbles, in a soft voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

You snort. “No, you really did mean it, Tora.”

He can sense the hurt and sadness in your voice, even if now you’re the one that won’t look at him. He watches helplessly as you stand up and walk towards the living room window in complete silence. The apron you took off is still on the couch and the vast memories of all the times he embraced you while you were wearing it quickly fill his mind.

He wishes there was a way he could keep you. But no matter how much he wants to, he knows there really is no other way. He’s thought about this countless times. He has gone to work without getting proper sleep, stared at his blank tv screen for hours on end, trying to come up with a plan where he could keep you. Was staying with the person he loved the most too much to ask?

No matter in how many shades of light or with how much care he handled the memory of you, the only way he could spare you the greatest amount of pain was to leave you— even if he knew he’d end up shattering your heart as well.

Kazutora notices the way your fingers tightly close around the edge of the window, your knuckles turning white. He had come to terms that he’d lose you today, yet he never expected for it to be this way. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. If hating him would mend your wounds faster, then he’d take it. Anything that would make the heartache he was causing you a little bit lighter. He knew you were the last person on Earth that deserved to go to bed carrying that much pain in her soul.

Looking out the window, you focus on a small girl walking her dog on the street. It’s a brown labrador and by the size of it, it’s barely a puppy. Rather than walk, it jumps on its four legs, his little head looking back at the girl every chance he has as he happily wags his tail. The pet shop Kazutora and Chifuyu work at immediately comes to mind. Would it be like this from now on? Small things eliciting memories of your days together without your consent and leaving a sour taste in your mouth?

You will need to find a new commute, you think, as you had been stopping by the pet shop on your way home for the past year. Is there another bus that you could take? As you try to remember the lines and their respective routes, you’re engulfed by the memory of the first time Kazutora dozed off with his head resting on your shoulder as you rode the bus together. You close your eyes and you can clearly see his peaceful expression and slightly parted lips as he slept, his fingers tightly intertwined with yours. His breathing is slow and his hands are cold and you wish you could go back, even for a minute and place a kiss on top of his head, since you wouldn’t be able to do so from now on.

Where exactly had you failed? You had just been complaining about your day when he dropped the bomb. Did you complain too much? Did you talk too much? Or was it you the one that was too much? You tried your best and supported him as much as you could but as it turns out, it hadn’t been enough. Good intentions were nothing but useless as you were now saying goodbye to the man you had loved the most.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Kazutora’s cold knuckles against your cheek, wiping your tears. You gasp, startled by his touch and take a couple steps back until your back hits the wall. It takes a few seconds for him to bring his hand now, unsure on what to do next.

He looks so scared and small— it fills your heart with frustration. Your whole body is screaming to take a step forward and comfort him, cradle him in your arms like so many times before, assure him he’s safe with you and that he doesn’t have to worry anymore. That, if you can still go home to each other at the end of a bad day, you can take anything life throws at you.

But that’s the thing. You’re not each other’s home anymore. You don’t get to bury your face in his neck and hum happily when his perfume reaches your nose. You don’t get to have him take a nap on your lap as you watch a series or feel his lips ghost against yours seconds before colliding in a kiss.

You hate it. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking down at his feet. “Please, don’t cry.”

“You know what, Kazutora?” you say, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. You taste venom in your words, yet that doesn’t stop you. “If you’re not happy with me, then what are you doing here?”

He flinches at your words. Biting his inner cheek, he nods, still incapable of holding your gaze.

“Yeah, okay,” he mutters. “I’ll go. I really am sorry.”

Kazutora turns on his heel, walking towards the door. Maybe it’s the way you know he’s not coming back this time that makes your desperation afloat. You don’t want him to go and you also know you can’t make him stay. And even if somehow you could find a way to keep him by your side, it would be worthless.

He’s just not happy with you.

“Are you happy somewhere else, though?” you ask, your words leaving your mouth before your head has time to process them. He stumbles on his feet and stops. “Because if you just can’t manage to be happy, then it’s not on me.”

Kazutora doesn’t have to turn for you to know he’s second guessing himself. The next seconds feel like years as he just stands there, mid-way to the front door, thoughts so messy and loud you can almost hear them.

“That doesn’t matter,” he finally says with his back to you. He closes his fists and you see his shoulders rising and falling as he takes a deep breath. “This way you don’t have to deal with... with the mess I am and—”

“Oh, please, I knew what I was getting into when I started dating an ex-convict.”

The weight of your words fall onto you the moment they leave your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut, muttering a curse. It takes no time for you to walk towards Kazutora, standing between him and the door.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Tora, I didn’t— you know I didn’t mean it that way. Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you whimper, tears flowing free down your cheeks. Your wave your shaky hands, desperate to make your point across. “I just wanted to say I knew things would be difficult but I loved you— I love you and I—”

Kazutora shakes his head, a gentle yet sad smile on his face as he takes your hands in his. He holds them in front of his chest, squeezing them gently as they don’t stop trembling.

“Stop, it’s okay,” he assures you. “That’s what I am.”

“It’s not,” you protest. “I mean— yeah, but you’re more than that. You’re so much more than that. You’re caring, you’re noble— you’re so tender with the animals at your shop. You’re so sweet with me, always checking if I’ve eaten and offering to help me out if I have chores I need to do. You always come pick me up if I’m working late. You— you’re so fucking special to me.”

Kazutora’s lips form a tight line. “I wish I could see that,” he whispers.

“Then just— let me try. Let me try until you can look at yourself the way I do,” you almost beg. You let go of the hold he has on your hands to gently cradle his face. “I’ll do anything, but... don’t patronize me. I’m not a little girl. Whatever life throws at me, I’ve always been able to handle it. No— we’ll handle it. Together. Like it’s always been, you and me, I just— please, I don’t want you to go,” you cry. “We were going to be happy together, you were going to live with me and I’d give you half my drawers and half my closet and half… half everything. Please, don’t go. Don’t go, Tora.”

The sadness in his amber eyes only confirms what you’ve been fearing this whole time. You sob, your thumbs softly stroking his cheeks as you feel the world crumbling around you. This time, he doesn’t stop you, letting you cry as you hold his face, coming to terms with the fact he’s really leaving after all.

Your hands move to his hair, gently threading your fingers across his long, dark locks. Tracing the outline of his face, you push one of the dyed streaks away, only for it to fall back right where it was before. You can’t help the small smile that forms on your lips. He’s so pretty, you think, as the pads of your fingers gently caress his face. Your thumb grazes the space between his bottom lip and his chin and you dream of a world when he’s not saying goodbye, but rather falling asleep under your touch on your shared bed. You never knew loving someone as much as you loved him was possible-- yet the way your heart was crumbling in pieces was evidence of how much your soul was aching by being separated from the person it belonged to.

Sniffling, you rub your cheek against your shoulder to wipe your tears. You swallow before raising another question.

“Is this a… temporary thing? Or for good?” Your voice comes out in a whisper as you place down your hands on his shoulders.

“I don’t know,” he answers. He wants nothing more than to put his arms around your body like so many times before, but he’s aware that it will only make things more difficult. “But I don’t want to keep you waiting in vain. You should move on.”

Kazutora realizes how much he hates the idea as it leaves his lips. The idea of you starting over with someone else rots in his tongue. He doesn’t want you to hold anyone’s face the way you were just holding his. He wants to keep you all to himself, to go to endless visits to the grocery shop, to watch you fall asleep during movie night and then pretend you didn’t, to massage your hands as you tell him about his day.

But you don’t deserve the guck that’s forming inside his mind. He knows it’s only a matter of time before it comes out pouring and reaches you. And he’ll be damned if he lets himself ruin the one good thing he’s had in his life for many years. He promised to himself he wouldn’t let his ill state of mind touch his loved ones. Never again.

He watches you nod and feels his heart shattering, even if everything is going just the way he intended. You rub his shoulders and look into his eyes, a sad smile on the pretty lips he would never get to kiss again.

“Okay,” you sigh. “We’ll end this but… when you leave, never doubt how loved you were. No— how loved you are. I don’t know what is coming for either of us but… I do know a part of my heart will always belong to you, no matter who I hold hands with. I will always love you, Tora.”

Your words are enough to finally break him. Kazutora clutches your body tightly against him as he loudly sobs against your shoulder. You hold him, tears flowing free once again as you try and soothe the man you love, leaving small kisses on the side of his head and whispering soft reassurances that it’s okay. It’s not, you tell yourself. It’s never going to be okay. But it has to be.

Carefully, you move him back to the sofa, helping him sit down while he refuses to let go of his hold on your body. You lean on the back pillows, both your arms cradling him while he whimpers like a small child. Kazutora clutches the fabric of your sweater with desperation, wishing there was a way he could stay with you.

Why does he have to give up the person that had put a smile back on his face? He can’t quite remember a time when his stomach had hurt out of laughter before he ever met you. Or when he’d experienced such peace as the night he stayed at your apartment and got to see your sleeping face first thing in the morning. He’s never loved anyone as much as he loves you and, for all he knows, he may never love like this again. 

But he could never risk tainting you. He would never be able to forgive himself.

Kazutora softly pulls away from your embrace. His eyes are blotchy and red and you’re sure yours look the same or even worse. His nose is red, like it always does when he cries. It’s endearing, you think. Everything about him, from his hair, to his eyes, his hands— you’ve come to love every part of Kazutora. And that’s exactly why it’s so hard to let him go.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says in a whisper, resting the side of his head on the back pillows of the sofa.

“Like what?” you ask, gently pushing his hair away from his face and behind his ear.

“Like I matter to you. Like I’m making a huge mistake.”

You take a deep breath. Imitating him, you rest your head on the back pillows as well, so you’re both facing each other.

“I don’t— I don’t fully understand what you’re going through,” you admit, your eyes locked on his. “But if you need to… get away, then you should. You’ve been nothing but loving to me. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, whether it’s with me or not. You deserve to fully experience all the beautiful things life has to offer.”

Silent tears fall from both your cheeks and his.

“I should be thankful I got to love you for this whole year. Because even if it ends this way… God, I loved you so much,” you sniffle, letting out a small laugh. “And I felt so loved. Isn’t that magical in itself? That we got to love each other at the same time?” you wonder with a sad smile.

Kazutora parts his lips, yet the doorbell interrupts him before he can even speak. You look at the front door, your eyebrows furrowing for a moment before you realize who’s probably there.

“Food’s here,” you say, wiping the tears from your face.

“Food?” Kazutora asks, confused.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Didn’t I tell you? The baking dish broke so I called that restaurant, the one with the burgers we like.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t really listening back then,” he admits with a pang of guilt. He sits up on the couch and turns his head at you. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

You sit up as well. “I ordered for the two of us. C’mon, stay for dinner. Let’s… remember us this way, okay? Without so many tears and sadness,” you offer, tilting your head towards him. “I even ordered your favourite one.”

Kazutora rubs his face with his sleeve, erasing the trail of the tears he just shed. Looking at you, he nods, drawing a small smile on his lips.

“Okay. I’ll get it.”

He only walks a few steps towards the door before he feels you tugging at the back of his shirt. Turning around, he notices you’re standing right behind him. Your eyes look up to him, biting your bottom lip and not even a ghost of the smile you previously offered him.

“Before that, uh— I want you to know I… I mean it,” you firmly say, taking in all his facial features, loving how they soften every time he looks at you. “I’ll always love you. No matter how many years go by or if I ever stop being in love with you— I’ll still love you.”

“I’ll always love you too,” he replies, taking your hand and squeezing it softly. “I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You finally let out a soft chuckle and squeeze his hand back. The doorbell rings again and you walk around Kazutora to get to it. This time, he’s the one that stops you, not letting go of the hold of your hand. Looking back at him, you notice the soft pout in his lips and how they softly tremble, looming more tears.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, and you know you’re saying it to yourself as well. “Who knows, we might get together again someday. Have our own Casablanca moment. We’ll always have the pet shop,” you joke, trying to fight back to tears that threaten to fill your eyes as well.

It’s Kazutora’s turn to chuckle, only this time he does it along with you. You let go of his hand only to hold his face tenderly, a soft smile as you look at the man you love. Standing on your tiptoes, you press your lips against the beauty mark under his right eye. You feel his hands setting on the small of your back and watch his smile widen when you fall back on your heels.

Locking your fingers with him once more, you open the door.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry IX

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), mild violence, male-iinduced anxiety

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The first day of the tournament arrives.

Note: My pupper had surgery yesterday and it was my longer day of work for the week so lots going on. Also had some bad Chinese but managed to get this out before it came back up. Feel better now and I'll have a shorter day today.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Lord Barnes’ mood did not improve in the days leading up to the first of the tournament. It grew colder in the capital and many feared the events would be cut short by an early winter. You didn’t care much either way. You had no interest in the sport or much of anything. You just abided the duke and in those times he left you alone, you laid in a void.

His want of you didn’t wane nor did your despair or the disgust you felt when he touched you. It was one thing to be a servant, to be a tool, a means to an end, but what he used you for now seemed little more than torture. He delighted in what he did, in how he made you suffer. Those times you remained unmoving and unfeeling angered him the most.

You dressed in yellow that morning. The horns announced the beginning of the tournament as you made your way to the stand amid the sea of guests. The wives, daughters, sons, mothers and fathers of those who would compete. You were out of place as you climbed the wooden steps between the benches and a green sleeve shot up to wave to you.

“Dearie!” May brushed past her husband to stop you at the end of their seat, “here, with us,” she insisted, “we did save you a place.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly. You hadn’t seen her or her family since the night of the feast. Since Barnes had…

“I can’t have you sitting alone,” she trilled as she pulled you along with her and sat beside Lord Benjamin who bowed his head and issued a gentle greeting. “And I always longed for a daughter, you know? Peter’s a good boy but so troublesome. I did try to persuade him not to enter the lists but he just never stops.”

“The boy’s old enough,” Benjamin said, “when I was his age--”

“You married me,” May cut in, “a foolish decision indeed. He is on the roster for today. Sparring. I fear he might not make it past the early rounds but so long as he is not hurt.”

You nodded and covered your hands in your sleeves. Even with the fur-trimmed cloak Barnes allotted you, it was crisp. Your matching cap barely kept the cool air from your cheeks. Your leg shook from more than the cold as you recalled that Barnes was set to compete with the sword as well.

“A fine cape,” May commented as she touched the edge of your cloak, “with sleeves even.”

You looked down at the fawn-coloured garment that only allowed a peek of the canary yellow beneath. You fidgeted and kept your eyes on the field, “a gift,” you lied, well, maybe it wasn’t a lie, or maybe you’d bought it in sweat and tears.

Another horn blew and she quieted and clapped as all looked to the center of the arena. The wooden stands were hung in all shades of silk, the banners of each house, high and low, covered the rafters. By the end of the day, only one would remain. Lord Barnes’ blue and ivory flapped opposite your side and Benjamin pointed out his family's slender red and black crest amidst the panoply.

You were thankful for the distraction, not for you but for them. You didn’t know how many lies you could conjure or if you could keep the false smile on your lips. You clamped your hands together and watched a man in gold stroll out to the centre of the stadium with a cone to project his voice. You stood with May and Benjamin and the rest of the onlookers

“Fine ladies and gentlemen, princes, paupers, and everything in between, we welcome you in name of King Samuel to the Games of Goblets. For each competition, the victor is to be prized a goblet to bear as a symbol of his prestige. For the ax-throwing, bronze inlaid with amber, for the bow-and-arrow, silver set with citrine, for the melee, gold set with sapphire, and for the joust, a fine piece in gold set with opal and ruby.”

The crowd applauded and shouted. The man waited for them to quiet again, “This day, we begin with the melee, on the morrow, the axe, the next day, the arrow, and on the final day, we ride!”

Again, the audience grew rowdy and you were deafened by the cheers. The man laughed at the excitement and held up his hand for a final lull.

“Without further delay, let us begin. In our first round, the lower lords and the untested, before the second where they shall meet our season veterans, and so on…” he gauged the fervent tension of the people, “you will see me again upon the finale and perhaps you will be surprised by whoever stands with me.”

Again, the stand quaked with the energy of the people. You would have liked to sit but you stayed on your feet, afraid to draw unwanted attention. The first pair was announced but you didn’t watch. You stared at the sky or a rippling banner but had no interest in the games.

You only stopped to look as Peter’s name was called out and May grabbed your arm. She squealed as her nephew came out decked in his used armor, beaten out from its former user’s wear, and he unsheathed his sword to face his opponent. When the handkerchief was dropped, you were as stunned as his fellow competitor and the crowd by his swiftness. You’d never seen anyone move so fast, and in at least twenty pounds of armor.

The crowd awoke from their awe and cheered as his sword beat against the other man’s suit with tinks and tunks. It was like a bell, ding, ding, ding. It wasn’t until the other man was on his knees that the spar was ceased. Peter was declared the plain winner and sent on to wait for his next engagement. May wiped away tears of joy and Benjamin grumbled his approval.

You smiled, just a little. You were happy for Peter. You’d seen how joyful he was, he was likely dancing behind the curtain right now.

🏰

It wasn’t until the second round that Lord Barnes was introduced. He walked out fully armoured like any other combatant but his left arm was permanently bent, a shield strapped to it as he gripped his pommel in his right hand. He showed his steel and faced his match. He dealt hard and heavy blows until his opponent was on his back.

You shuddered at his unboasting victory as he wasn’t even patient enough to hear himself declared the winner. You touched your cold cheeks and puffed into the bitter air. The bodies around you warmed the stands but you were chilled to the core.

Peter appeared again in the second, then the third, fourth, and to his aunt and uncle’s delight, he soldiered onto the final. To your fear, he was to meet Lord Barnes. You tried not to squirm, not to show how nervous you were for Peter. You thought of running down and begging him to withdraw but what could you say? If anything, you’d both be worse for it.

As the last two banners were presented to the crowd, you sensed movement to your right. A familiar head of blond hair approached and the tall duke pushed past the row of people along the bench. Lord Rogers smirked as he came close, his sweaty hair drooping down his forehead from his last bout, the one he’d lost to his closest friend.

“Ah, I found you,” he said, “lady.”

You felt May peek past you and you gave a meek “my lord” as he stood close. He looked around you at the older couple.

“You have friends,” he stated, “please, do introduce us.”

You looked down and chewed your lip. You turned slowly to May and Benjamin, the latter peering past her only as he was torn from his fixation on the field.

“Lord Benjamin and Lady May Parker, baron and baroness,” you rubbed your hands together nervously, “Lord Steven Rogers, duke of Astrens.”

“Oh, we’ve heard of him,” May chirped, “my lord, it is an honour.”

“Indeed,” Benjamin agreed, “my lady, you did not inform of us of your lofty friends.”

“She is modest,” Rogers intoned, “we met by chance, really, through a common acquaintance.”

“You were skillful on the field, it is a pity you were bested,” May said.

“Very pitiful, I did put some gold on you, Lord Rogers,” Benjamin added, “alas it was a fine showing.”

“Wasn’t it?” he turned to stand with his arm pressed to yours, much too close for your liking, “however this one should be intriguing.”

“It’s our boy,” Benjamin said, “and your friend, my lord.”

“Perhaps you’d take another bet?” Rogers countered.

“I’ve lost enough this day,” Benjamin snorted, “I’d rather watch and be pleasantly surprised than paupered.”

“Prudence is wise but always so boring,” Rogers mused.

As the lower of the lords, Parker was announced first and you were saved from more uncomfortable banter by the man in grey. Rogers nudged you and bent as the introductions went long as the man with cone went into detail about the day’s fights all the way to the present match.

“I did look fine out there, didn’t I?” he whispered, “good form, even if I did lose. Barnes is in a mood and we both know that makes him… unpredictable.”

You lowered your head, “my lord.”

“You are quiet since last we met,” he remarked, “perhaps your thoughts linger on how else to use your mouth?”

You squirmed and stared at the competitors as they awaited their signal. Rogers laughed and stood straight as he focused on the field in kind. He played with your sleeve and tugged your arm down. He caressed the back of your hand and stepped even closer.

“When he wins, he might just be cheerful enough to share in his celebrations, hmm?” he said under his breath.

The gold cloth was dropped and the two men circled each other, eyeing their opponent cautiously. Barnes was the first to act but was evaded by the younger man. He didn’t not falter however as he swung again. Peter rolled under the strike and met it with his own steel, batting it away so that it nearly struck its holder.

Barnes dodged that time, then the boy spun again. They danced around each other, both swift, both calculating, both determined. Steel met steel but never that which clothed the fighters. May grabbed your other wrist as she held her breath.

Barnes laid a hit across Peter’s chestplate that made him stagger but he turned it into another lithe evasion. He snaked around the higher lord and hammered his false arm. The shield cracked in half and Peter ducked again.

Barnes was angry as he stabbed out. His blade was shoved away again and Peter jumped over the foot that tried to trip him up, a true achievement in armor.

You realised as Barnes laid a flurry of blows at the air that he was angry. The crowd silenced as the realisation fell over them and they watched as time seemed to slow. The duke was losing and he was enraged.

Peter jabbed the other man’s chest plated with his sword then hit his true arm. The sword bobbled in Barnes’ grip but he regained his hold on it. Too slow as Parker struck over and over, throwing him off balance, and sweeping him off his feet with a low lunge.

As Barnes clattered onto his back, the breath went out of him and every other person in the stadium. The man in grey shook away his shock and finally stepped forward.

“Our victor!” he grabbed Peter’s arm and raised it, “the Lord Parker!”

May hopped up and down and hugged her husband. Steve tutted and shook his head. Your eyes clung to Barnes as he sat up, forgotten in the dirt. His left arm was stuck at an angle away from his body and he reached up to force it back down.

Peter offered him his hand and was ignored. Barnes sheathed his sword and offered a curt bow before he exited. Rogers’ hand crawled up your arm and he gripped you. “Well, looks like we both will suffer his loss.”

For once, he spoke the truth.

[subjectnumberx]

Thumbnailing: Subject's Way

Thumbnails are an important workflow tool artists use to make creating their works more efficient. They are essentially tiny, low detail versions of the idea you may have in mind, and save time by helping you catch potential compositional errors, clashing colors in palettes(if you blob some colors on), and poses that simply might not.. work in character art as well as many other things not mentioned.

I am a very visual person and sometimes putting ideas to paper really helps me focus better on the task at hand. Organizing things into steps on the page really helps me not get overwhelmed. It might prove helpful to you as well.

In this tutorial, I'll take you through my workflow process when planning paintings and simple character illustrations.

I start off the process by doing a ton of sketches of whatever thing from many angles, poses, etc. Usually if I have a certain image in mine I simply sketch that and adjust little things like angle, placement of limbs, etc. Work teeny tiny, you can enlarge it later. I,t really depends on what the goal is for that piece what the process looks like. Here the goal was to just draw a character, so I have many options.

environment sketches look a bit different for me, as I will sketch them in literal cubes. I am still working through the technique. I just haven't gotten good enough at them yet to consider a tutorial by me would be helpful to anyone though.

Like with piece D, it's good to plan compositional elements here too. I added the moon that would go in the eventual background, swords in the hands of B and E, etc. Had I had more time, F would have gotten rough roses, but I digress.

After I have base sketches, I do very rough lines so I know what I'm looking at, and it primes me for what I could possibly have issues with in doing the final. I keep it VERY loose and don't dwell too much on details. If I'm drawing a character, I'm not even going to look up references, unless their silhouette is very complex. There is not much need for accuracy here. Just to nail down your subject's silhouette.

At this point, you can start eliminating which poses you don't want. Here I was very indecisive so I went through with sketching all of them.

At this step ill also take the time to plan variants if I feel like I would be indecisive about them/need them for certain platforms (optional).

Here's where things start to actually take the form of thumbnails. I work large and draw most of the anatomy of the subject so that things are positioned correctly in the frame. Draw the whole of something, even if you know it's going to get cropped out. There is nothing worse than trying to draw in a way that is already cropped, it messes up your anatomy bad, and you'll spend more time trying to fix it, especially if you are just starting out as an artist.

Physically drawing a box around them to help with framing is really good to help plan the composition of the final piece. Again, you can eliminate stuff here as well if they don't make interesting compositions. Consider the rule of thirds and how much breathing room you want or need in your piece. The one not in a box was eliminated because I didn't like the pose nor would it make a very interesting piece.

I also use different colors on the boxes so I can overlap them and keep my eyes from getting confused where one "drawing" ends and one begins.

If I'm planning portraits/art in my painterly style, I'll take the time to block in some colors just to see what I should shoot for in the final. I will also do several pairings of colors in their own sets of thumbnails if the piece needs it/i want varients. I highly suggest blobbing so that you can see how potential colors will play with one another. Learning the teeniest bit of color theory will help, I promise, but for now, i'lI'lll refrain from the mini-lecture.

these three two (you'll see), I figured would make better cel-shaded/quicker pieces due to how zoomed out they are, any true details I would want to focus on don't exactly work for my current style faraway. Be sure to tailor compositions that suit your style. I will be keeping these sketch ideas for future reference.

It's important to remember that just because an idea doesn't get used in this piece, that doesn't mean it can't be used in a further piece down the road. I actually have a horrible habit of deleting my thumbnails after I'm done with them, but if I'm thumbnailing in a sketchbook? I find myself browsing back over them for future pieces to get some rough ideas of what could work later.

One last thing, you don't have to plan as many thumbnails as I did, but I do suggest at least 3 or 4 to really stretch your creativity.

Thumbnails also make for a good warm-up. If you're curious, I did the initial sketches in this order: A C E D B F. I think it helped me loosen up a bit, but you can be the judge of that.

I went back and tried another approach for a painting, but now I have the base for 3 paintings I could pursue, albeit rough, but it's good to learn how to paint like a sculptor, I digress.

That's all there is to it. the key is being clean enough to get the idea down, but rough enough to save time. work small, using basic shapes to create silhouettes. You can enlarge it later and use it as a base sketch.

Last two cents: I've also learned that sometimes if a piece is just not working, it's probably more than likely a compositional issue, anatomy, or perspective, Which is why thumbnailing can help you catch these issues early.

happy drawing :)

a/n: this is my first time really creating a tutorial. this might not be groundbreaking information for some of you and that's okay. this tutorial was initially created for someone in an art server I'm in on Discord, hence the slide-text-slide format. I have taken the images and text from that and compiled them here to make it easier to pick up the tips. I do not consider myself a pro on any of the things mentioned by any means, merely my take on it all. Get multiple sources, educate yourself, practice, and find what works for you. - Sub

[zenonaa]

'Like the rest of the group, he also wondered what could have driven out such a grin from him, out in the open like that. Worse, it could have not been a ‘what’, but a ‘who’. He had prided himself on never letting anyone slip under his skin, never letting anyone become close to him. Learning to rely on others, and let others rely on him, was one thing. This felt more personal, like a kick to the stomach.'

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Togami Byakuya Characters: Fukawa Touko, Togami Byakuya, Naegi Makoto, Naegi Komaru, Kirigiri Kyouko, Asahina Aoi, Hagakure Yasuhiro Additional Tags: TogaFuka Week 2021 Summary: Togami and the others stumble across a photograph of him smiling, but he can't remember the context so the others try to figure out what happened for him to do that.

Comments: owo what's this? togafuka week day 1: happiness! i haven't actually written something for all the days but this is one of the things that i did manage to squeeze out.

💗 Please like, share and comment if you enjoyed it! 💗

***

Cleaning up Hope’s Peak wasn’t an afternoon affair. Beyond the old school building that Byakuya knew too intimately, debris clogged hallways, trash lay scattered throughout the campus like weeds and the air smelled of rust and blood. The group of seven started with the art building on the east side of campus. For the first few hours, Yasuhiro hummed as he hauled cardboard boxes, Komaru still had the patience to prepare and bring lemonade, and Aoi’s sunshine voice beamed between walls as she shared a story about the time her family held a second-hand sale in their backyard.

By the end of the day, however, their lively chatter had dimmed with the sky. Inside remained as bright thanks to Byakuya and Yasuhiro reconnecting the electricity, but darkening windows reminded them of the aches in their limbs, the ebbing flames behind their eyes. Byakuya swept his gaze across what used to be a theatre but was currently a sorting room filled with boxes instead of chairs. Makoto, Touko, Komaru and Yasuhiro were sitting together on boxes, while Kyouko and Aoi had just walked in with a dirty wheelbarrow.

“We should adjourn until the morning,” Byakuya announced. He reached a hand toward his glasses, intending to push them up, but stopped himself when he remembered the grime clinging to his palms. Not wanting to dirty his glasses, he lowered his hand.

The Byakuya of the past would have deemed this sort of manual labour beneath him, yet he had willingly spent most of that day working alongside his companions. His friends. How things changed.

“There is so much stuff,” said Aoi, who by now had parked the wheelbarrow and was slouched against it. She wiped her vest against her forehead.

“And not a lot of it is useful,” added Kyouko, next to Aoi. Yasuhiro straightened up.

“Nonsense. All we need to do is spruce them up, and they’ll be ready to go on sale.” He walked over to a broken lamp, its shade bitten and discoloured, as dirty as the floor it lay on. “Like this lamp. Fix this up, and it’ll be as good as new. Then all we need is a good pitch and b’am,” he punched his palm, “sold.”

“You can’t do that with everything here,” said Komaru. He put his hands onto his hips.

“Not with that attitude! But with the right mindset, you could sell anything here, guaranteed.”

Yasuhiro rubbed his finger against his nose, grinning like a fool. Some things changed, but others stayed remarkably the same. Byakuya’s gaze drifted over to Touko, who was scowling at Yasuhiro. Touko was both different and the same. Different, because she stood firm where she used to cower, and she let others into her world where she used to cloak herself in darkness.

And same because while like Byakuya, she had learned to allow herself to rely on friends and for friends to rely on her, she was still head over heels in love with him.

She pointed at a black bag containing hunks of metal. “What sales pitch do you have for this?”

“Easy! All you have to do is make the contents into sculptures,” replied Yasuhiro. “Their only purpose is to be admired, ‘right? Add a backstory to go with them and boom, sold. You can do that to practically anything even if it’s trash.”

“No way,” said Aoi.

“Want to bet?”

The group roused to accept his challenge. Makoto found a used wipe container, and Yasuhiro clicked his fingers and said to fill it with plastic bags, turning it into a dispenser that was portable and could fit easily into a car drawer. Aoi presented him with pizza boxes, at which Yasuhiro laughed and demanded more so they could be decked in wrapping paper and transformed into a drawer unit. When Komaru found a metal pipe, Yasuhiro claimed it needed a clean and spray paint and it could sit contentedly on a shelf.

Yasuhiro even sucked Byakuya and Touko into the game. The cork in Byakuya’s hand changed into a keychain, and Yasuhiro’s voice fashioned an old juice carton into a recyclable purse ideal for coins and trips to the arcade. Each item that the others found, Yasuhiro repurposed it into something else.

“There has to be something you can’t reuse,” Komaru insisted. She peeled the lid open on a cardboard box and lifted out a hardback red book from inside it. “What about these photos? Who’d want to have pictures of strangers?”

“Photos?” said Kyouko, intrigued.

“Yeah, there are a whole load of albums in here. I went through a few earlier but didn’t recognise anyone, so I forgot about them.”

Touko rolled her eyes. “Typical...”

Kyouko and Aoi each took out an album. The box seemed to contain several of them, their covers glazed in dust and cobwebs.

“Gekkogahara-san is in this one,” said Kyouko within a few seconds of skimming.

By now, the rest of the group had gravitated over. Inside the album that Kyouko was holding, the photographs were contained in plastic flaps that overlapped so only the one on top could be seen unless it was flicked up, revealing the photograph beneath. In the photograph currently on display, Miaya Gekkogahara was sitting next to a pale guy with dark hair and dark shadows under his eyes, who Byakuya recognised as Yasuke Matsuda. They appeared to be seated at a computer desk, their heads turned toward the photographer.

“It’s really her,” murmured Makoto. “And not a robot masquerading as her.”

“Do you think these are all photos of her class?” asked Yasuhiro as he and the others picked up their own photo albums to browse.

“If that’s true, then everyone in these are deceased,” said Touko.

Aoi winced. “When you phrase it like that, this feels kind of morbid.”

Makoto flipped through a few flaps in the album in his hands. Then his creased forehead exploded as his eyebrows shot up. “This album contains our class!”

Everyone crowded around him. The photograph showed a pink room with a television screen hanging on the wall. Blurred writing glowed on it that Byakuya struggled to decipher. In front of it, Couch seats were positioned around three sides of a table, and on the seats sat members of their class. The only classmate not in the photograph was Sakura.

“Sakura-chan must have been taking the photograph,” said Aoi. “No way would our class exclude her.”

Holding the album in one hand, Makoto scratched his head with his other.

“I vaguely recall this,” he said. “Kuwata-kun... yes, I think it was him... booked a karaoke room, and the whole class packed in. All of us sang at least once.”

While Future Foundation had aided them in recovering from the memory loss inflicted by Junko, some memories were stronger than others. For Byakuya, he could recall plenty of events, but none came with any emotion attached. It was as though he was reading about them in a newspaper afterwards.

“Byakuya-sama graced us with his voice,” Touko piped up. The ends of her lips curled upward as she squeezed her hands together. “I r-remember... he made the air taste like chocolate syrup... his words spread a chill across my skin... ah...”

Byakuya remembered performing a single song, but he hated singing, and he couldn’t remember what compelled him to accept a microphone.

“Enoshima tried to steal such a precious memory from us.” Aoi rubbed the heel of her hand against her eye. “Sakura-chan sang a beautiful song about friendship. Her voice washed over the room like the ocean.”

Kyouko placed a hand onto Aoi’s shoulder. Komaru flicked through the other photographs in the album. Byakuya didn’t pay Komaru any more mind, frowning at Touko as she seemed to relive the experience of him singing. Her recollection appeared much more intimate than his own. Part of him wanted to ask her for more details. Another part was repulsed.

Komaru gasped.

“What is it?” asked Makoto as they all focused on the album again. The photograph that had captured her attention depicted Byakuya. Nothing extraordinary appeared to be in the photograph - he was sitting on a bench at an angle, not facing the camera.

Yet the others stared with their mouths agape.

“I have never seen Togami-chi smile like that,” said Yasuhiro.

Byakuya inspected the photograph closer. Though it had been taken at a distance - probably so he wouldn’t realise someone was taking a photograph of him - there was a definite smile gracing his lips. It wasn’t a smirk, or a cruel grin, or the faint curve he sometimes showed around his friends, but a smile showing teeth, one that didn’t just meet his eyes, but made his gaze, no, his face glow.

What he was looking at, however, was unclear. It was now that Byakuya realised the photograph had been torn, and the section that held the object of his attention wasn’t in the album.

“It must have been something amazing to have made him smile back then,” said Yasuhiro.

They all turned to Byakuya, who pursed his lips.

“Putting aside whether I would tell you if I knew, I don’t actually recall when this took place,” he said.

“Maybe we could help jog your memory?” Aoi suggested. “When I want to remember something, I write it on my palm three times.”

“That won’t help,” said Touko. “You can only do that while you still remember the thing.” Her teeth gritted. “Argh... if only I knew what could have elicited such a pure smile from Byakuya-sama...!”

She dragged her fingers down her face.

“It’s not a big deal,” said Byakuya. While the others burned with curiosity, discomfort stewed in his gut like when he had watched Touko reminisce about the karaoke session.

Like the rest of the group, he also wondered what could have driven out such a grin from him, out in the open like that. Worse, it could have not been a ‘what’, but a ‘who’. He had prided himself on never letting anyone slip under his skin, never letting anyone become close to him. Learning to rely on others, and let others rely on him, was one thing. This felt more personal, like a kick to the stomach.

“There has to be some way to reawaken the memory,” said Komaru, her tone light without the burden of his thoughts. She turned to Kyouko. “You must know a way.”

“Must I?” Kyouko’s eyebrows rose.

“Because you’re from a detective family,” said Aoi, nodding.

“Actually...” Komaru’s smile cringed on her face. “I um... just assume Kyouko-chan knows everything.”

“There are a few techniques we can try,” said Kyouko, faintly amused. “Perhaps if we pinpoint when and where exactly the photograph took place, that may stir something in Togami-kun’s brain.”

Other than Byakuya, no one else was in the frame. A briefcase leaned against a bench leg and a pile of papers rested on his lap. Annoyingly, he couldn’t see any writing that may have been on the papers. In the photograph, he wasn’t looking at them. He was focused on the nothingness where the other half of the photograph should have been.

“That has to be the main plaza,” said Aoi. “I recognise the benches. Sakura-chan and I finished our morning runs there. Then we would sit down and drink some water. We never saw Togami there though.”

“Yeah. That looks like the fountain at the back,” added Makoto.

Kyouko stroked her chin. “The sliver of sky in the background appears rather pale, and judging by the colour of the leaves, it’s approximately autumn.”

“Togami-chi never missed a lesson, so it had to be late-afternoon at the latest, ‘right?” said Yasuhiro.

“Unless it was the weekend,” Makoto pointed out, prompting Yasuhiro to exhale frustratedly through his teeth. The thoughtful expression on Kyouko’s face, however, didn’t waver.

“We can deduce whether he had lessons on that day,” said Kyouko.

“How?” asked Aoi.

Byakuya already knew. “I’m not in uniform.”

“Indeed,” said Kyouko with a bob of her head. “So unless you changed into another outfit after your lessons, this scene transpired at the weekend.”

“Does that ring any bells for you?” Komaru asked Byakuya, clasping her hands together, eyes wide with optimism. “Visiting the plaza on the weekend, and catching sight of something that brings joy to your face...?”

His jaw clenched. All of them were staring at him. They had a campus as large as four high schools to clear and they had only made a dent so far, but the arduous task appeared to have been pushed aside in favour of probing his brain for some memory. Oh, how they tried his patience at times.

“I can’t say it brings anything to mind, though it is unusual for me to be there,” he said in a level tone. “Usually, during the weekend, I would be indoors, either in my room or in the library.”

Certainly not at the plaza. Certainly not with a brazen smile chipped into his face.

“I think we’ve followed the photograph’s lead as far as it can go,” said Yasuhiro. “Now we must turn to guesswork. If we bounce ideas off each other, that might help Togami-chi remember. Perhaps you had come from a meeting, where you struck a billion dollar deal?”

“Or you emerged from the cafeteria after they served some tasty donuts?” Aoi chimed in.

Byakuya’s frown sank in deeper.

“Or you finished a really good manga?” said Komaru.

“Or listened to a good song?” added Makoto.

Yasuhiro clicked his fingers. “I once read that listening to music is a good way to stir up memories. If we find a piece with the right mood, Togami-chi ought to remember the scene!”

“What sort of mood do you guys reckon we should play?” asked Komaru as she shoved her hand into her coat.

“Something cheerful,” said Aoi.

Komaru retrieved her phone from her pocket and tapped on her screen. A few seconds later, a series of beeps sang out of her phone, playing over the sound of clapping and a fast drumbeat. She side-stepped back and forth to the rhythm, and Byakuya lasted until the first few lines of Swedish auto tuned singing.

“Turn that off,” snapped Byakuya. “It’s not helping me think. It’s giving me a headache instead.”

With a pout, Komaru switched it off.

“Perhaps we should visit the location,” said Kyouko.

Touko’s brow creased. “Won’t it be dark?”

“Don’t worry, Touko-chan, our phones can provide you with light,” Komaru assured her, patting Touko on the shoulder.

They set off, departing from the old theatre and winding through corridors toward the plaza. Byakuya stayed silent, lagging behind most of the others slightly. Only Touko seemed to take note of this, and though she didn’t speak to him, she hovered further back than him, and he could feel her eyes on the back of his neck like flies crawling against his skin.

As they drew closer, he concluded that they wished so desperately to discover the source of his smile because they planned to use it against him. Perhaps they intended to humiliate him, or blackmail or manipulate him. But they were his friends, weren’t they? Surely they didn’t plan on using what they learned against him?

Yet... if that wasn’t the case, then why?

The plaza was no longer the picturesque location it once was. It couldn’t have been in a brochure promoting the academy, like the photograph in the album. Weeds grew between upturned slabs, gnarled fingers reaching toward the sky. Nearby, the rubble corpse of the fountain didn’t spout water, dry as sun bleached bone. They all stood silently for a while, observing their surroundings. There were no benches to sit on.

“It sure has changed a lot,” said Yasuhiro.

“It’ll do. Hagakure, bend over on all fours.” Aoi pointed at her feet. “You will play the part of the bench.”

Yasuhiro balked. “Why me? You’re stronger.”

Her stare didn’t relent. He managed a few more seconds before he dropped to his knees and planted his hands in front of himself. Once he was in position, Aoi turned to Byakuya expectantly.

“I am not sitting on him,” said Byakuya flatly.

“Please, Togami-san!” Komaru pleaded, shaking her phone in both hands. Light from the screen danced across her face and when her hands stilled, so did the glow. It seeped into her skin, accentuating the crinkle between her eyebrows and the stare from her eyes that pulled, pulled, pulled at Byakuya until he snapped.

“Why are you all making a big deal of this?” Byakuya asked not only Komaru, but all of them. He flung up a hand. “There is a photograph of me smiling. That’s it. It concerns me that you’re so obsessed with finding out what caused me to smile.”

His question clenched them in its jaws, burning the air with acid. He waited for one of them to answer. For Touko to do more than fidget, and Komaru to stop chewing her lip. Finally, the pressure squeezed out a response from Makoto.

“You’re our friend,” said Makoto. “You’re usually so serious, and you rarely ever seem happy. We thought if we could find out what made you that happy back then...”

“... we could bring that happiness back to you now,” finished Touko, curling her fingers into her palms. Byakuya tensed.

That explanation had never occurred to him. For most of his life, he had been forced to be on the defensive, to anticipate betrayals and attacks from anyone. Then again, for most of his life, he hadn’t been acquainted with people like this. Friends. He grimaced, staring at Touko for several long seconds before averting his gaze and pushing up his glasses.

“Nuisances...” But he seated himself on Yasuhiro’s back, setting his feet firmly on the ground.

Byakuya tried to imagine the sky was a pool of water, not ink, and that he was on a bench, and that water streamed from a fountain behind him. However, the air remained as dry and dark as his mouth, and no matter how often his mind mended the slabs of the plaza, they would crack and decay within moments.

“Anything?” said Touko, wringing her hands.

He folded his arms over his chest.

“No,” said Byakuya. A collective sigh spread, though Makoto was soon grinning again.

“I guess we’ll have to keep trying to make you happy.”

Byakuya clicked his tongue, but his lips twitched outward and he quickly hid it behind his hand. Nuisances.

“Does this mean you can stand up now?” Yasuhiro asked from beneath Byakuya.

Aoi stretched her arms upward, arching her back, and yawned. “We ought to call it a day. It’s getting late.”

While the others headed toward the dormitory building that they were currently living in. Byakuya stayed where he was. Their footsteps faded, the glow of their phones shrinking into five pinpricks of light before disappearing completely. Despite his friends’ efforts, they had failed to uncover the story of the photograph. Now that he knew their motives hadn’t been nefarious, he could appreciate their attempts and found himself wondering what had happened all those years ago.

“It’s a shame we don’t know what made you so happy back then,” said Touko next to him, echoing his thoughts. She hadn’t retired for the night with the others. He glanced at her, meeting her gaze. Her phone shone a light against her wistful expression.

“I suppose so,” he said in a casual tone.

“With many of my memories, I don’t recall exact details, but they evoke certain feelings.”

His eyebrows rose a fraction in interest. “Oh?”

“Yes. For example, standing here... is stirring some emotion in me. I think I have a memory associated with this place too.”

Byakuya turned his whole body to face her.

“What emotion?” he asked.

She didn’t answer right away, as if letting the thought sit on her tongue, tasting it.

“Warmth,” she said. “Like the warmth I feel when I’m with you. Perhaps I will never remember what happened to give me that feeling. B-But... I have many other precious memories... and I can work on creating more with you, Byakuya-sama.”

Her lips twisted into a smile. Meanwhile, his insides twisted, much like they did whenever she referred to him in a romantic manner. He had been experiencing the sensation more frequently around her lately. Sometimes, all she had to do was meet his gaze or brush against him, and his stomach would coil like she had pressed her lips against his.

“Byakuya-sama?” Touko’s voice broke into his thoughts. “A-Are you feeling all right?”

He did not want to think what about his face had made her ask that all of a sudden.

“I’m fine,” he said, and he adjusted his glasses. “We’ve dawdled here for long enough. Let’s return to the dormitories.”

“Together?” blurted Touko. Without a word, Byakuya strode away, and she darted after him, keeping abreast. “Are you going straight to sleep when you arrive back?”

His eyes stayed forward.

“No. I will have some tea and read first,” he replied.

“What do you plan on reading?”

“Out by Natsuo Kirino,” he said. Her head jerked back.

“I r-recently finished that!”

“I know. After seeing you reading it, I thought I would give it a try. I was more interested when I learned that it’s not a romance, but a crime novel.”

“I specialise in romance, but I read for a variety of genres,” she said. “I can recommend some more books i-if you want. Have you read The Inugami Clan? You may find the start slow, but I think you will enjoy the cast and the premise...”

He listened as they walked back together. The more she spoke, the more passionate she became, and he couldn’t help looking at her as she lit up, waving her arms around.

A smile poked at the corners of his lips, and he finally felt a sense of déjà vu.

[valley-of-the-lost]

I don't know if you watched BPA, but.. I have a question, that I don't know if you can answer this, but it's been nagging at me (this is a multi-part ask, this will be a quick rundown): A blog that used to be interested in Barbie claimed that BPA has some racist undertones; this is because, as they claimed, due to the antagonist (who has, as they put it, brown skin) tries to take over the kingdom of a white princess/queen. 1/?- Barbie Multiverse Anon

Okay, so, a quick explanation. This ask has been sitting in my inbox for a few days, and I sincerely apologize to Multiverse Anon for making them wait this long for me to weigh in on this. When I received this ask I was neck-deep in part of an art challenge that wore me out and I had not watched BPA (which I assumed was Barbie Princess Adventure) at the time, and I felt that this was the type of ask that I needed to chew on for a couple days and talk to some people before I was certain of my thoughts on it.

Now, I have done some cursory research, watched Barbie Princess Adventure myself, and bounced it off some of my friends for their take as well. Thus I will attempt to answer this to the best of my ability.

I do agree with the unknown blogger in question that Prince Johan is a brown-skinned character, and that the plot has racist implications due to the combination of this, him being the antagonist, and the fact that his kingdom lost a war to Amelia's prior to the plot to drive his motivation hence why Amelia is taking over the rule of both her own and his kingdom. However, I disagree with them that this is an ongoing theme or that there's a pattern of racist undertones in previous Barbie movies. At least from my own knowledge. 

(under a read more because I don’t want to clog people’s dashes, this is not a simple topic to unpack + the movie did some weird things I wanted to explain too)

Before I really delve into the meat of why I take this stance, I want to quickly discuss why I had to even assert that I agreed that Johan is a brown-skinned character as its own point on the off-chance someone else encounters the same initial weird impression I did. You can skip this part if you want, I'll put a triple asterisk where this ends (***).

Prior to watching BPA myself, I did some cursory research on the Barbie Movies wiki, prompted by this ask. I put together that Johan was probably the antagonist that was being referred to, but when I was on his page, his wiki picture was just this.

This was all I had to go off of at this point, because he didn't have a screenshot gallery for me to cross-reference him throughout different points in the movie. So the conclusion I drew at the time was "he just looks like a tan white guy". This impression was reinforced by his light eyes and recycled Ken face model. I cross-referenced this with some friends, and we came to the conclusion that at best he looks racially ambiguous, with no reason to think he was a character of color unless there was other indication about his race in the movie itself.

And then I watched the movie. And changed my mind when I saw what he looked like in these scenes.

Johan looks noticeably darker than he did in his single wiki picture, especially when next to other more obviously white characters like Barbie and Amelia. His skin tone is closer to Alphonso whom I would call a brown character pretty confidently in the same movie (I wanted to minimize comparisons across movies to eliminate the possible different variables that would come with it).

While this might not be as noticeable to other people casually watching the movie, I found this a bit jarring myself because I was focusing on his skin tone in particular due to the subject of the ask and my initial impression from the wiki picture when he was arguably at his lightest in the whole movie, as well as when he was introduced he was at his darkest because it was set at night. Also the way the animation team decided to shade him to convey that its nighttime confused me because he looked a lot darker than I thought someone of what I assumed his skin tone would look. And then the next scene with him and Barbie further confused me, because he suddenly got this reddish undertone that really highlighted their difference in skin color.

(Barbie’s hands are on the left and Johan’s are on the right for sake of direct comparison)

Finally, in his last scenes in the movie, Johan's skin tone is most like that of his wiki picture's. Darker than Barbie's when they stand in the same shot but light enough that he could've passed as a tan white guy. What cemented my confusion is that he still looks like this in the throne room, where he was before when dancing with Barbie so it should reasonably have the same lighting and bring out that reddish undertone, but no he still looks like that. So my final conclusion on him was that since he looks like a brown-skinned character in around 2/3s of his scenes and there's a 2D painting of him in the bg when Barbie and Amelia are kidnapped, that he is indeed a brown-skinned character and the animation department probably fucked up their lighting which messed with how uniform his skin tone looked across scenes. ***

Now that I've explained my process of confusion and then final agreement that Johan is indeed brown-skinned, let's discuss how this compounds with other elements to create a rather unfortunate picture. I'm afraid its a bit worse than Anon described.

First off, the added context of the history between Amelia's kingdom of Floravia and his kingdom of Johanistan. Prior to the movie proper, these two countries fought in a war and Johanistan eventually surrendered to Floravia. The two countries signed a treaty that said that after her coronation, Amelia would rule both Floravia and Johanistan.

There is a severe lack of critical details about the war itself, such as what caused it in the first place, which really works to the film’s disadvantage, since the absence of clarity does little to clear up the questionable implications of what is known about the relationship between Floravia and Johanistan.

Amelia’s kingdom is the one that took over Johan’s initially, since they won the war and Johanistan would be ruled by Floravia’s queen, with the implication being that she’d depose Johan’s family, the original ruling family. While the lack of details makes it so it can’t quite be said that Floravia is colonizing Johanistan, it also means that it can’t be said that Floravia is not colonizing Johanistan. What is known about the war is very broadly reminiscent of tactics white people have used to colonize other countries, such as using a war to depose the original royal family for the colonizer’s own gain (the US colonizing Hawaii by staging a coup against their ruling family because the white plantation owners got mad) and putting the other country in a disadvantageous position with a treaty (Opium Wars). This would probably just be viewed as normal Kingdom vs. Kingdom politics if... well Johan wasn’t a character of color.

Combined with viewing this movie through the lens of real-life racial biases (which people are predisposed to do because we're inherently based in reality), the likely conclusion drawn is that this white ruler (Amelia) is effectively ousting a character of color (Johan) and his family out of power and force-assimilating his country, and there's simply not enough clarity about previous events before the movie takes place to dispel it sufficiently.

This also poisons the plot proper because Johan's motivation is to take advantage of the law that the rule of both kingdoms falls to him if Amelia doesn't show up to coronation and regain rule of his own kingdom and Floravia as a nice plus. The intention was probably to show him as greedy for wanting lone rule of Floravia and Johanistan, taken together, it honestly comes across as the movie villianizing a character of color because he wants to regain sovereignty of his own kingdom from a white ruler. Its completely understandable that Amelia wouldn't want to lose her own kingdom especially coming off of war, but also her kingdom is also the one ousting out the previous royal family of Johanistan without giving any good reason why they can't compromise.

The effect would be somewhat mitigated if another character of color had a similarly prominent role as Johan on the side of Barbie, but there's really not. The closest I'd argue would be Alphonso, but he doesn't have equal plot relevance. This does, in my opinion, make Barbie Princess Adventure's plot give off racist vibes like that unknown blogger said. But I do not agree with them that there's a "pattern" of racist undertones in other Barbie movies.

Due to the lack of details of what exactly they meant by a "pattern" of racist undertones, I am assuming they mean a consistent pattern of racism across the movies, for example the movies consistently dipping into anti-Asian sentiments with their villains, or their plots inherently having racist vibes woven into them like I just talked about in BPA.

Despite the Barbie movies occasionally dipping into offensive territory, in my personal experience I have not observed a pattern of racist undertones or consistent racism targeting a specific group. I acknowledge that I could fully be wrong and a lot of things could have slipped past my notice, especially since I have not seen all the movies, but from the ones I have seen I have not observed a pattern with regards to this. However, I will point out the offensive/iffy things in the movies that I know of, with varying degrees of detail depending on how much I can remember. This is by no means a full compendium of all the problematic stuff Barbie films have touched on but these are the ones I am aware of at present.

Barbie of Swan Lake - Antisemitism. There was a TikTok on this somewhere that discussed this more in detail that I can't find but will link if I do, but what I do remember was Rothbart was given an extremely large nose which is reminiscent of the "Jewish nose" ethnic stereotype. Also there was something about his name and Tchaikovsky himself being antisemitic and those views being reflected in his ballet. I don't remember all the details I'm sorry and google wasn't giving me much.

Barbie in the Princess and the Pauper - Antisemitism. Preminger hits a couple of antisemitic stereotypes in the movie, such as having a noticeably larger, hooked nose compared to the other male characters which is reminiscent of the ethnic stereotype of the "Jewish nose" and being greedy and corrupt (literally mining every singe piece of gold out of the mines) which is a stereotype of Jewish people. His name is also of Jewish origin which by itself wouldn’t be a necessarily suspicious thing but combined with those other tropes it does add up.

Barbie Diaries - Tia, a black woman and also the only one with curly hair in the cast, making an iffy comment about "getting the tangles out of her hair". POC with different hair textures have gotten a lot of racist shit for their hair so even though this is a small oneoff comment seeing Tia talk about her hair like this in a negative manner rubbed some of my friends with curly hair wrong.

Barbie in a Mermaid Tale 2 - Polynesian racism. Another friend of mine who is Hawaiian brought this up in Mermaid Tale 2, when Merliah and co decided to have a luau (which is a traditional Hawaiian party or feast usually accompanied by entertainment) in Australia. My friend found it a bit iffy they were doing this when most everyone is white, but what they found worse was when poi was being served in the luau. Poi is a traditional Polynesian dish, but in the movie they claimed it was an Australian and Hawaiian dish, which its not, there’s no Australia in its origin. And then there was a "gag" where the people eating the poi were gagging on it, so essentially this movie was making a joke out of another culture's aesthetics and food.

Barbie Princess Adventure - Reread the above text.

Maybe my sample size isn’t big enough but I’m not seeing a pattern or a trend here, which in my opinion would be a larger cause for concern because for these movies their issues are largely contained to their specific movie, and a pattern would be indication of a wider problem. Maybe you see a pattern I don’t, that would be completely valid.

Now, do I think this means you can’t enjoy Barbie Princess Adventure? No, I’d be a bit of a hypocrite if I said that because I still enjoy some of the Barbie movies I listed above that I just said also have problematic elements (Swan Lake and Princess and the Pauper specifically). But I do think it is good to at the very least be aware of it, hear it out, keep it in mind. At the same time I understand why people would be turned off by this topic because they’re here to have fun riding the serotonin of childhood nostalgia and not delve into discourse.

But I hope I answered your question to your satisfaction Multiverse Anon! I’m going to go take a nap now I’m tired 😭.

[tuffduff]

Your Pretty Little Angel (Axl Rose x Reader)

Pairing: fluffy modern!Axl x Reader

Words: 1,785

Request: @zeppelinwhore​ : “ Hey, love! How r u? I was wondering if i could request a fic with modern!axl? Where reader feels insecure about herself, like she saw the pic of Axl and Lana and then she feels like she is not as pretty as Lana. Or some shit like that lol. <3 “

A/N: Thanks for requesting, hun! The more of these modern!Axl imagines I write, the more I want to be his little sugar baby, ya know? Hope y’all enjoy this one! (Also this gif fucking killed me he’s SO cute)

Taglist: @ubernoxa @the--blackdahlia​ @reigns420​ @stradlin-cold-heartbreaker​ @rumoured-whispers​ @dustnbones​

Your fingers drummed on the bathroom counter in front of you, drawing your focus to the sound of tapping against the granite rather than the gaping mirror in front of you. Anything but the reflection.

It wasn’t as though you were always racked with self-hatred or insecurity of your appearance. At the same time, you weren’t vain. You had worked hard to accept you as you were, it was all anyone could do, right? Everyone had their days though.

Especially when you were dating a globally celebrated rock star.

Axl Rose used to be a name that circulated the news channels and magazines much more frequently. Nowadays, any mention of Guns N’ Roses was a bit rarer, especially since Axl chose to lead a more private life. His name still had the power to generate headlines, though. You had definitely seen the latest—the images were practically burned into your mind now.

“Axl’s New Flame”

“So, Lana Del Rey and Axl Rose Are Hanging Out Together”

“Where’s Y/N? Axl Ditches Former Girl-Next-Door For Singing Siren”

You knew it was innocent. You knew rumor articles were cruel. You knew there was likely nothing even to it; Axl had gone out for a business dinner and they must have run into each other. After all, Lana Del Rey is a well-known Guns N’ Roses fan. The only pictures you had seen so far was her walking ahead of him leaving the same hotel restaurant. Axl simply wasn’t like that; you had been together for over a year now.

That was you trying to be rational and avoid a spiral of doubt. But of course, you ended up tumbling over the edge and soon got lost in overthinking.

You read the articles, every single detail you could find. The fact that she wrote a song all the way back in 2008 called “Axl Rose Husband.” Her coy smile in the pictures—so beautiful with her elegant face. Sure, Axl wasn’t like that, but did anyone really expect to get cheated on? Did anyone ever expect to be left? Those kinda things blind-sided even the most infatuated adoring lovers, and you began to brace yourself for the impact. Sure, you had just moved into his house, but he could always kick you out. You and Axl had never even exchanged “I love you” with each other, maybe he was seeing what else was out there. Maybe he had been charmed, maybe you just hadn’t seen other pictures yet. You read the articles speculating if Axl had left you in the dust. It was easy to find pictures comparing you to Lana. This was worse than online stalking because all the work was done for you—and there were people’s commentary and opinions, people you didn’t even know, who didn’t know you.

When you glanced up, almost accidentally, you realized you had started crying. You chuckled bitterly and added another negative trait to your list: too fucking sensitive. Who did you think you were, dating Axl Rose?

“Hey, sugar, I thought we were getting lunch? You’ve been up here for almost an hour.” You heard Axl call from your shared bedroom and heard his steps crossing the floor. You panicked; you didn’t want him to see you right now when the image of her was probably pinned in his memories. Her laugh, her smile, her bambi eyes looking at his. Was he comparing the two of you like everyone else? Wondering why he settled when he could’ve had her?

“Uh, hang on! Give me a minute,” you tried to stall; you needed a helluva lot longer than a minute.

“What’s wrong?” You heard Axl asked as he paused right outside the bathroom. It was almost a casual question, as though he weren’t really expecting anything serious to be wrong. “Your hair brush is out here if that’s what you’re looking for.” You chuckled slightly, smiling sadly at his nonchalant observation. “Are you okay?” He pressed when you didn’t answer, and that’s when you completely fell apart.

“Y-yeah! I just, uh...I poked my eye and...” you lied with the first thing that entered your head and grimaced at the weak attempt to stop your voice from shaking as hot, fresh tears spilled from your eyes. “I’m actually not feeling well; maybe we can go another time. Why don’t you go get something for yourself?” He didn’t answer, and you wondered if maybe he had left to do exactly that.

“Why in the world would I do that?” You jumped at the sound of his soft voice right behind you and glanced up to look at him in the mirror’s reflection, staring back at you in confusion, hairbrush in hand. Heavy concern shaded his face when he saw you. “Y/N, what’s wrong, darlin’?”

“It’s really nothing,” you lied and Axl immediately frowned angrily at you. His boots hit the floor with purpose as he marched over to where you sat on the vanity stool. He knelt down right next to your thigh in an effort to match your level.

“You know I hate it when you tell me that, Y/N. I hate wasting time with you upset and me not knowin’ the reason why. Do you trust me?” You hesitated at the question and saw a flicker of surprised hurt flash in Axl’s eyes.

“No, I do!” You said quickly, before you shook your head. “I do. Really, it’s just me overthinking...and just...imagining worse case scenarios and...” you shrugged.

Axl was silent for a moment before he stood. You stared at your lap, wondering if you had offended him, before you felt his fingers weave through your hair. He pulled your head closer to him, to where your cheek was resting against the denim covering his hip and his fingers massaging your scalp.

“You and that pretty little head of yours...” he muttered affectionately. “C’mon, sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong. I get it, you know. Wasted plenty of years of my life just fucking overthinking things I didn’t need to.” You looked up at him and something in your expression suddenly made him pull you up by your elbows. He took your place on the stool before he brought you down on his lap and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Now,” he prompted. “I’m listening.”

You stared down at your hands in your lap.

“I saw the pictures.” You murmured.

“Pictures of...?” Axl asked.

“You with Lana.” You peeked up at him and watched confusion furrow his eyebrows before understanding took its place. There was a silence.

“Ah.” He finally said with a nod.

“There were...a lot of articles telling me about the state of my relationship this morning.” You chuckled feebly. “You know, a much better start to my day than Folgers or the weather forecast.” Axl was shaking his head.

“I hate them.” Axl said. “I hate all of it. The manipulation, the way they think they know every detail. And it still happens, even now, twisting it all however they want.”

“For the record, I didn’t think anything of it.” You reassured him, though you couldn’t help the way your voice sounded small. You wondered if Axl could hear the insecurity behind your words too.

You could feel Axl pat your hip, his hand resting against you.

“Someone introduced us. She’s a big fan, it was nice conversation. I liked some of her ideas, concepts she was telling me about songwriting. But that was it. We walked out at the same time and that was somehow the big story.” You nodded a little. You had known that, but even with the confirmation, you were left wondering why you still felt empty.

“I guess...it’s just harder for me.” You said out loud, trying to work out your thoughts. “I’m...nobody. And you’re you, and I knew that—it wasn’t what drew me to you, that’s not why I got into this—but this world knows you too and how amazing you are, and then, sometimes things like last night happen. And I trust you with all my heart, Axl, but someone like Lana Del Rey; she’s gorgeous. She’s talented, she’s acclaimed. I’m sure she would have been willing. Why wouldn’t you...”

Axl’s grip tightened around your hips now, making you stop your words.

“First of all, I never want to hear you say something like that again. Y/N, you’re not nothing. You’re nothing short of incredible. This world hardly ever says anything about how ‘amazing’ they consider me. Mainly, it’s just about how I’ve lost it.” You frowned a little. There was a change in his tone, switching from insistence to almost cynicism. “How I don’t sound the same anymore. How I don’t look the same. I’m washed up, I’m an egotistical perfectionist—the list goes on. But you…you’re beautiful, baby. I look at you and I can see the way everyone else looks at you, and it makes me I wonder how in the hell I get to have you. You make me proud. You make me feel like the things I see written about me aren’t true. Because you never make me feel like that.” You twisted in the position you were sitting to face him better.

“I’m a fucking mess,” you laughed breathlessly, fighting another onslaught of tears. Axl smiled, leaning up to kiss the corner of your mouth, a fleeting kiss, uncaring if his lips even met yours because any inch of your skin was a prize to be kissed.

“You’re not a mess. Baby, you’re a whirlwind. Your thoughts, the way you look at the world, all the things you’ve brought into mine...”

“Axl...” you stopped him, but only had an absence for any words to explain the relief you were feeling, the calm that filled you. You could only shake your head and reach your hands out to cradle his face in in them. He immediately leaned forward to press his lips to yours.

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispered, his eyes still shut as you pulled back, stunned. He blinked his eyes open, smiling again at you. “I love you, my pretty little angel.”

“I love you too, Ax. I always wanna make you proud.” You replied back, smiling against his lips as you kissed him again.

“You do. And you know what else?” He asked as he pulled back. “I’m pretty fucking hungry.” You laughed with your head falling back before you stood from his lap.

“Just gimme a second. I’ll be ready soon.” Axl paused by the door.

“Wear that blue sundress of yours, baby. The one with the slit up the leg.” There was a twinkle in his eye. “I want them all to see you on my arm today.”

[jinnyu]

Used artwork credit here

A/N: I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE DRAFT AND THEREFORE THE ASK WAS ALSO DELETED, IM SORRY— alright, hopefully you'll enjoy this nonetheless, thanks for asking! I'll try to find the person who asked for this prompt later.

And so, this ask is Raihan x Female! Reader, the prompt is displayed above.

━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━─━

You sip your bottled tea as you watched Raihan battle the opposing gym challenger from the bleachers; to say you're amused was an understatement. The dragon tamer never ceased to amaze you everytime he's in a battle, regardless if he reigns victorious or fell down in the depths of defeat— his match is always wild, numerous of fans shouting for his side as he let the sandstorm take over the stadium, enveloping it in a rough weather.

The fans were alright though considering the stadium was perfectly designed for these type of things, protecting the said viewers from the harsh effects of the weather— which Raihan takes pride in, looking at how his technique consist of taking advantage of the weather to boost his pokemons powers.

This is what makes you baffled with his performance every time. Even if you already became a Champion that rules over Galar, you didn't look down on him, and you're not planning to.

Occasionally, the dragon tamer would lock eyes with you, sending chills down your spine as his cerulean eyes stare right through you, followed by that signature smug grin of his in which his fans has grown a liking to. You gave him a gesture of support by clenching your hands accompanied by a determined look on your eyes. He noticed your small action and gave you a thumbs up before focusing on the match infront of him once again.

Some fans mistaken it as him looking at them, and they immediately melted on the spot due to that misunderstanding. Though you didn't pay any mind to it, you dont want to ruin people's happiness anyways, just let them be.

After the earthshaking match, which Raihan managed to reign victorious, he gave a hug to the challenger, and telling them that there were no hard feelings involved. Luckily for him, the challenger was still determined to try harder for a rematch in the near future, and they can ensure Raihan that they'll be the one taking victory home next time they meet.

Raihan saw that as a challenge and he's going to get stronger, he wants to give his best at every match, that's his job after all. Losing just wont do for him.

When all of that commotion ended, you approached the said dragon tamer with a smile dancing on your lips and arms open wide, incase he wanted a good ol' hug after the match.

You know him so well, of course he wanted a hug, and its from you— you.. you're his crush, not that you know it, its a new thing for him too. He took an interest on you when he saw you battle at the Championship Cup, reaping the victory without any effort; you're strong, you're tough, you're more than what you seem, and Raihan liked that part of you.

Though on other times, you're also clumsy, careless, and mostly oblivious. These trait of yours just amplified your attractiveness level to Raihan; strong and oblivious usually doesn't match with eachother, yet you managed to make them mix well, creating... you.

"Good job on the victory!"

You planted your face on his chest, burying your head in the warm feeling of his hoodie, and trying your best not to get tiny little sand stuck in your head. It'll be a pain in the ass to clean up later if you did. Your arms wrapped around his lean waist, hugging him as tight as you could to show him your affection.

Raihan responded well by hugging you back and ruffling your hair, saying a light 'thanks' along the way. Maybe without your support, he would've lost this round, and other rounds from before— no matter, he should just focus on the present, where you're hugging him in the middle of the stadium... infront of his assistants. Not to mention Leon is also watching, accompanied by chairman Rosé.

The dragon tamer then pulled back after awhile, he knows this affectionate act of yours doesn't have any meaning behind it. Just a hug you gave to your bestie after his gruelling match; it has became a habit at this point, and you didn't even notice that. Raihan did though, he paid attention on every little details about you. From the way you dressed, to the way your expression changes over the time, that even he notices the smallest shift in your mood during the day.

Silence began spreading between you both, and its getting kind of uncomfy. So you decided to break away the tension by helping him dusting off the sand on his body, and his features. The amount was quite a lot, and it's going to take awhile if you really want to remove all of the tiny bits of sand from the previous match. You even thought about suggesting him to not use the sandstorm weather next time, it's really getting troublesome and somewhat irritating to handle. At least for you.

"Stay still im helping you clean up" you said as you reached for his headband. He didn't want any help in cleaning up this time, considering that Leon is here, and few of his assistants—lets not forget about chairman Rosé whos observing from the sidelines, possibly being held captive by Oleana because of work reasons.

Raihan then gripped your arm as he tilted his head a little bit back, preventing you from reaching his tangerine headband "No need princess, i can clean it up by myself" he grinned, trying to hide the embarrassment thats slowly growing inside him.

Sure he might be a man of confidence, pride swelling on his chest with each step that he takes, but the poor dragon tamer only could handle so much when it comes to you. All that pride and confidence washed away just like that, and thats all because of your damned adorable oblivious trait.

You were determined to take off his headband, even if that means you need to use all off your techniques on him. This time, you only relied on your obliviousness. You really dont know what effect it has on him— you didn't even know if your oblivious trait has an effect on him at all! But you saw him blushing a few times from you being genuinely curious about something, so its worth a try.

Raihan was completely caught of guard when he looked down at you and your determined eyes; it was different from before where you're supporting him, he cant tell whats really different, but it just hits diffrent. You reaching up with Raihan gripping your wrist, warm eyes locking with his followed by a small curl on the edge of your lips as you felt him slowly reducing his strength in the effort to prevent you reach for his headband.

This only resulted in him looking away, blush subtly creeping on his cheeks as he tried to avoid eye contact with you. The Great Raihan would never be embarrassed in such a situation, hell, he'd be the one to make you embarrassed! But this time, apparently the odds were in your side , and you're grateful for that.

The thing you didn't understand was; why is he blushing? You didn't do anything, you only tried to take off his headband in order to clean it, and yet when he locked eyes with you, a tint of blush appeared on his chocolate skin, in which he attempted to hide it by looking at anywhere but towards your direction. This was a great opportunity to make him blush more, dont you think? Its rare to see Raihan blush out of nowhere, and you got to see it up close! A way great opportunity, you couldn't bear to pass this chance.

With a gentle push forwards from your body and him being off guard, you two tumbled down to the ground below you with a loud 'thud' ; Raihan covered your fall by pulling you close to his chest, which makes you comfortably land on his body instead.

"Honestly," you trailed as you got up from your position, lifting your body up with your hands on each side of Raihan's head before looking down onto him with a joyful grin plastered on your face "You're cute when you blush, Rai" you chirped, followed by a soft laugh. The position you guys were in wasn't quite the best to see without context. But you couldn't care less, you two were only having a wholesome bestie moment— yet Raihan might be freaking out inside because, oh Arceus, what is he gonna explain to Leon and the Chairman himself? Him blushing just makes it worse and doesn't help him out at all.

His eyes finally dared to look into yours again while a sigh slipped past his lips "You're just teasing me," he exclaimed as his lips curl into his usual relaxed smile; shades of blush still not leaving his face "Again." He added, hands reaching up to pull you back down onto his body, loving the way you fit inside his embrace just perfectly. He's way taller than you, meanwhile you could be accused of 'tiny' compared to him. Thats why he liked hugging you so much, even if you're just teasing him.

He doesn't care if you know his feelings or not, he's just happy that he could hold you like this without any care in the world right after his tiring match. Though he still does have a lot of explaining to do the the Chairman later, and possibly to Leon too.

[jmnjmnjmn]

Eternal beings | Chapter 8

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Human!Reader

Key words: supernatural, vampire.

Word count: around 3,500

Warnings: swearing,  sadness, jealousy, mentions of murder

Inspo board

Masterlist

I’m also working ona a Taehyung thing right now so please bear with my posting schedule...

You opened your eyes at the abrasive sound of your alarm. Feeling as if you haven’t slept a minute last night you sat up on the bed and looked out the window. The morning was foggy, the light drizzle visible in the rising sun. You looked down onto the street looking for Jungkook, but no one was there. It was half past five, still too early for him to be waiting for you outside. Nonetheless the prospect of him being out there - somewhere, anywhere, coming your way - made you feel uneasy. You picked yourself up from the bed lazily and headed for the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face before applying some makeup. As you approached your bedroom’s door you stumbled over something on the floor. Looking down you noticed the pile of clothes you angrily threw and kicked to the ground last night. The memory of it made you feel even more shitty. Because of your frustration with Jungkook you blew up on Taehyung who wasn’t at fault here at all. You made a mental note to yourself to make it up to him today and went on with your morning routine more quietly than ever not to wake him or his dog.

As you applied your makeup, did your hair and packed your bag you looked out the window onto the street every now and then to make sure Jungkook’s not standing there, waiting for you. His absence made you anxious. It was nearing six when you finally walked downstairs to eat a quick breakfast before heading out. You decided on one of the “1 minute oatmeal” mixes Taehyung had in his kitchen cabinet. You poured hot water over the dusty mixture and scrunched your nose at the strange smell, hoping it looked and smelled worse than it tasted. With the steaming bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other you once again walked to one of the windows on the front of the house. There wasn’t even a stray cat on the street. You stood by that window eating the oatmeal and slowly realising that this is not your kind of breakfast.

“Maybe the reason Taehyung has so many of these is that he doesn’t want to eat them, because they suck so bad…” You said to yourself as you were quickly washing up the dishes after yourself. You dried your hands and rushed to the door, not wanting to be late for work.

As you were tying your sneakers you felt your stomach tighten. You were nervous about what, or rather who, you would see waiting for you outside. You took one more deep breath before opening the door. To your surprise no one was there. The emptiness of Taehyung’s driveway didn’t make you feel any less nervous. You turned your back to the street to lock the door behind yourself and as you pulled the key out of the lock you heard the heavy iron handle on Taehyung’s home’s gate squeak.

“Here we go…” You muttered under your breath and turned around. Jungkook was walking through the gate with his eyes focused on the handle he was gripping. He looked up at you and gave you a half smile.

“Hey.” He mouthed quietly, as though he could wake up the neighbourhood if he spoke with his full voice. You caught yourself starting to become warm inside and quietly told yourself in your mind not to fall for his tricks and do that.

The two of you walked silently all the way to the station. You kept your hands in your pockets clenched in fists not only to protect them from the strange cold of today's morning, but also because of your once again raising frustration. You didn’t know how you should or shouldn’t feel about this whole ordeal with Jungkook. Both him and Yoongi told you yesterday that they were vampires and you couldn’t wrap your head around it. The only way to make it make sense was to believe they’re both insane or ask them for a more detailed explanation. The first option appealed to you the most.

As you stood on the station awaiting your train Jungkook paced around next to you humming something quietly. You glanced at him and almost smiled, but stopped yourself quickly before anyone could see. You avrted your eyes back to the tracks, furrowing your brows.

Usually there were a couple of empty seats on the train at this time, but today it was more crowded so you stopped a couple of steps from the door and grabbed onto a bar for stability. As you pulled out your phone to check the time you felt a weight come onto your shoulder. You looked towards it and saw Jungkook holding onto the sleeve of your jacket. This time you didn’t hold back the smile remembering how you and your friends always grabbed onto each other’s bags, shoulders and jackets to keep balance on a moving bus or train.

You felt silly. He seemed so innocent yet… You couldn’t just forget about what he said he did to (Victim’s name). He was a murderer. He admitted it. The fact that you didn’t call the police immediately after meeting him for the first time after that faithfull night on Third made you no better than him. There was no excuse you could come up with for withholding such important information in an official FBI investigation. You were a criminal. Just like Jungkook. You might have not murdered anyone, but you lied and covered for him. You looked down at your phone with tremendous guilt in your heart. There were so many times you could have called the police, so many opportunities, that you didn’t take, to come clean and make this mess go away.

“Central station.” A robotic female voice announced from the train speakers. You picked up your gaze realising it’s your stop and made your way to the opening door with Jungkook following closely behind.

You walked together, side by side, still in total silence. As you were not more than ten meters from the shop’s doog Jungkook slowed down his pace and stopped. You automatically did the same which made you feel really dumb. He was the one following you to work. You should’ve kept walking and left him behind to get rid of him at least for a moment, but you didn’t and answering the question of “why?” seemed like too hard of a task for the moment.

“What time do you finish your shift?” He asked, stepping in front of you.

“E- Wait, no.” You barely managed to refrain yourself from telling him what he wanted to know. “ Why do you want to know?” You answered his question with your own already knowing what he’ll say.

“I want to pick you up and walk you home.” You exhaled loudly, looking away and giving your head a small shake.

“Don’t.” You replied after a moment, your gaze still resting somewhere far off in the street.

“Come on, (Y/N).” Jungkook said in a teasing manner, putting his hands in his jeans pockets.

“I don’t need a shadow.” You finally managed to look at him again. Your eyes travelled from his chin to his lips and up to his eyes which were a dark shade of brown right now. “Especially from a guy like you.” You added and his smile widened.

“Like me?” He chuckled referring to your altercation from last night.

“Don’t start.” You muttered, feeling your stomach turning at the thought of hearing about vampires again.

“Alright, alright. But just so you know I was asking to be polite.” He said, taking a step back. “I already know your schedule. I’ll be here ten to eleven.” Your eyebrows travelled up involuntarily at his statement. “Have a good day at work, (Y/N).” He added taking another step back still facing you. With his next step he turned around, shooting you a smirk.

Confused about how he knew your work hours you walked into the shop and headed straight for the door marked with a “staff only” sign. Your wonderment was cut short as you set your eyes on the only other person in the break room.

“Jimin.” You said your coworker's name, greeting him as you closed the door behind yourself. He smiled up at you from his phone and went back to typing something up on the screen rapidly. “Did you by any chance talk to Jungkook recently?” You asked him, setting your bag down on the old couch. He glanced up at you from his phone again with his eyebrows raised. Your question must have caught his attention, because he quickly locked his phone and put it in his jeans backpocket.

“Yeah. We talked.” He answered with a cheeky smile you didn’t appreciate. “If he only knew!” You called out in your head.

“And did you talk about me?” You proceeded with the questions.

“We did.” Jimin put his arms across his chest and his grin grew wider.

“Perhaps about my work schedule?” Jimin only smiled at you without a word, but it was enough of an answer. “Jimin, why?” You sighed, not knowing how to knock it out of his head that you were interested in Jungkook.

“I did you a favour. Without me you would never end up seeing him.” You put your palm on your forehead feeling a headache forming under there and rubbed it slowly. “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t like it.” He snickered.

“Did it ever cross your mind that I might not want to see him?” You tried to explain it to him slowly so that you didn’t slip and say something you didn’t mean to say to him. Like for example: Your crazy boyfriend claims he and his friend are vampires.

“(Y/N), you quit being so pessimistic.” He said walking up to you and hugged you from the side. “Jungkook is nothing like your previous crushes and boyfriends you told me about.” Jimin rubbed your shoulder trying to comfort you, but all you could feel right now was helpless and misunderstood. “He’s a good guy.” You exhaled a soft chuckle at his statement. “There’s nothing weird about him, no obsessions or questionable past. Yoongi can vouch for him.” You couldn’t stop a grin forming on your face and looked up at Jimin.

“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better.” He frowned and thought for a moment before speaking again.

“Well, I know you had a fight last night-” You didn’t let him finish and pulled out  from under his arm. How is it that everyone knows everything about you and yet you are clueless about everything that is going on?

“Wha- Who told you- Taehyung? That-” You struggled to for a proper sentence and before you could succeed Jimin cut you off.

“Don’t be angry with him.” He defended Taehyung. “He just wants the best for you. Like me.” He added with a smile. You couldn’t get angry with him. Yes he meddled and gossiped, but he didn’t know half of what you knew and he didn’t mean to do any wrong.

“I know Jimin, but I think I know best what’s best for me.” You said, rubbing your forehead again to make the impending headache go away. “Trust me and let me make my own decisions, okay?” Jimin put his arms across his chest again, looking at you with sympathy in his eyes. “I’ll handle this whole Jungkook deal myself without you, Taehyung or Yoongi getting involved.” You said, hoping that you just put an end to this discussion.

“About Yoongi.” Jimin perked up and you felt your shoulders drop a little. “He tells me you went to him asking all sorts of questions about your admirer-” 

“Come on!” You cut him off, hearing more than enough. “I just told you not to meddle in this!” Now you had your arms in a knot across your chest as well. “Please, Jimin. Just- Just let me do this at my own pace, okay?” You asked him sincerely.

“Okay, okay.” He sighed. “But remember everything you tell Jungkook he will tell Yoongi and Yoongi will tell me.” As he listed this chain of communication a cheeky smile formed on his face once again.

“God damnit, Jimin.” You laughed and pushed his shoulder.

“I’m kidding.” He chuckled and the two of you, still bickering, went out of the break room to go on with today's workload.

-

Towards the end of your shift you were on checkout duty, googling out all the information about the murder case from last weekend when a ridiculous thought came to your mind. You opened a new tab in the internet app on your phone and  let your thumb hover over the letter “v”, still hesitant whether you should go down this rabbit whole. You were deep in thought when Jimin called your name simultaneously bringing you back to reality. “One that doesn’t include vampires.” You thought hopefully.

“(Y/N).” Before he could say anything more you realised you were covered in goosebumps. You looked at the thermometer on the window to check the room's temperature, but as you turned your gaze towards it you noticed the real reason behind your body’s odd behaviour. “Your boyfriend’s here.” Jimin said, looking through the glass door with a box of blue Fanta in his arms.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You muttered. Jungkook was in fact out there like he promised, walking towards the shop in long strides. He noticed you eying him through the window and waved in your direction with a smile.

“Ten to eleven, (Y/N).” He greeted you as he walked through the shop’s door, ringing the small bell hanging over it. “Hey, Jimin.” He greeted your coworker who still stood by the door with the box of beverages he was supposed to set up on a shelf in the front. “Are you ready?” He asked you.

“It’s ten to eleven. I still have ten more minutes of work to do.” You said emphasizing the word “ten” each time, reluctant to go anywhere with him. Jungkook opened his mouth, but before he could say a word Jimin cut in.

“You can go. I’ll finish up here, (Y/N).” He smiled sweetly at you and Jungkook, but you knew what was really hiding under that expression. “Go on, get your things.” He urged you, but you didn’t move an inch from behind the register. The two of you stood in your places, Jimin with the box of Fanta in his arms and you with your palms resting on the counter, looking each other in the eyes trying to communicate with them and without speaking up.

“I’ll wait. It’s just ten minutes.” Jungkook finally said, glancing between the two of you and breaking the silence. He leaned on the counter and pulled his phone out to occupy himself with.

You sighed and hoped for a customer to come in or something so that those ten minutes really seemed like work and not just you trying to stick it to Jimin and Jungkook. Unfortunately for you no one came in. As the ten minutes were quickly coming to an end you decided to collect your things and get going. You reached under the counter to unplug your phone’s charger when the volume on the worn-out TV above your head increased. When you got up from under the counter you saw Jimin with the remote in his hand, the Fanta box empty under his arm.

“Look, (Y/N). It’s your case.” He said pointing to the screen and turning the volume up even higher. You looked at the screen terrified. 

“Your case?” Jungkook asked from behind you without even a bit of curiosity in his voice. You didn’t have to face him to see the expression he had on his face, you knew he had that smug cocky smile all over it.

“She’s a witness.” Jimin explained to him, clueless of the fact he just outed you as a rat to the killer you were testifying against to the police.You felt your cheeks turn red, but decided to try to play it cool.

“Old news.” You shot Jimin down, trying to talk over the news anchor who was now describing in detail how (Victim’s name) was found that faithfull night you saw Jungkook for the first time. “Nothing really came out of my statement.” You said turning to face the two guys. “I didn’t see or hear much to be honest.” You babbled with your voice being a little higher pitched than usual from the nerves as rolled up your charger.

“Well, you did see the guy.” Jimin said, putting the remote down on the counter. Jungkook raised his brow at you and slowly put his arms across his chest, getting ready to enjoy the show of Jimin and you spitting arguments back and forth.

“It was dark.” You said.

“You gave a description to a sketch artist.” He answered.

“I didn’t have my glasses on.” You kept explaining.

“You told me you would definitely recognize him if you saw him on the street.” 

“After giving it more thought I don't really think I could.”

“You said he was kinda hot.”

“Didn’t!” You yelled and felt yourself burning up.

“Alright, that I made up.” Jimin laughed.

“I’m going home.” You said grabbing the remote and turning the TV off which earned you a resigned moan from Jimin. “I’ve got online classes to attend.” You added slipping out from behind the counter and walking towards the back room.

“You two go. I’ll wait for our switch. Who is late. Again.” You heard Jimin complain in a playful tone behind your back.

You rested your back on the closed door of the back room and sighed deeply. As you relaxed your shoulders you began feeling how tense they were for the past ten minutes or so since Jungkook walked into the shop. You took off your name tag slowly and put it on the pin board on the wall feeling the soreness in each muscle in your arms. You stuffed your jacket into your bag and threw it over your shoulder. As you rested your sweaty palm on the cold door handle you stopped for a second to make the impossible wish of not seeing Jungkook when you step out onto the shop. You exhaled slowly to prepare yourself to be let down and pushed the door open.

“Ready?” He asked sweetly as you approached the front door and also him. You noticed Jimin trying to hide a cheeky smile as he stood behind the checkout.

“Bye, Jimin.” You said, knowing already he must have told Jungkook something you asked him not to. Deciding not to answer him and just kept walking all the way to the door. Jungkook bid his farewell to your coworker as well and swiftly turned as you passed him by.

Together you walked down the street. Shoulder to shoulder. You were about to take the turn right to the train station when Jungkook spoke up.

“Here.” You heard a beeping sound and you averted your eyes to where it came from. Jungkook walked towards a black car parked on the sidewalk leaving you a couple of steps behind as you stood in place unsure of what to do. He reached for the door handle on the passenger's side and opened it for you.

[onyxiana-is-obsessed]

Resurrection | Katsuki Bakugou x Reader x Shouto Todoroki

AN: Ok, so I wrote this a while ago, and tbh I still don’t like how it turned out, but it's so much better than what I hard originally. This is another Soulmate AU, where your soulmate’s name is written on your wrist. Length: 7.7k Pronouns used: She/her

Warnings: TodoBaku so polyamory, and mentions of blood... like a lot, I describe wounds in detail, a dead person uses their quirk! 

Summary: Soulmate AU; your soulmate’s name is written on your wrist. You, Bakugou, and Todoroki are the lucky three with two names on your wrists. You refused to come to them, until the universe took charge.

Name: (f/n) (l/n) Quirk: Resurrection; the user cannot die before their intended time, if they do, they will be resurrected. However, when it is their time to go, nothing can save them. Age: 26

Everyone in the world is born with a name on their left wrist, that name belongs to their soulmate. On extremely rare occasions, one can have two names, the second being on the right. That was the case for Katsuki Bakugou and Shoto Todoroki. The two had met each other on the first day of school, when they attended UA. There, they learned each other's names and were shocked to find each other so early. However, that day, at Bakugou's house, Todoroki revealed that he was, in fact, one of the few people on Earth with another name on his wrist.

~Flashback~

"Bak- sorry. Katsuki," Todoroki started, correcting himself. "I have to tell you something."

"Go ahead." Todoroki inhaled before speaking.

"On my right wrist... I have another name." This caught the ash blond's attention. He immediately perked up from his position on the bed and moved towards Todoroki.

"Wh-what? Let me see it!"

"Sure." Todoroki removed his uniform jacket and held out his right arm, revealing the other name on his wrist. Bakugou's eyes almost popped out of his head as he quickly removed his jacket and showed Todoroki his own wrist.

"I-it's... the same name..." His soulmate stuttered out. In neat cursive, there was a name on their right wrists. (Y/f/n).

~End of Flashback~

For years, the two had searched for her. When they were in school, whenever they got a chance, they asked about her. They had even tried to talk to some of the pro-heroes but no one recognized the name.

Once the two, themselves, had become pro heroes, they decided to go searching once again. They had an extended vacation coming up and they decided to spend it searching for their missing piece. The day before their vacation, there was a villain attack. It was at a nearby mall, there was an explosion. Bakugou, Todoroki, and Midoriya were called to the scene where they searched for the villain.

There were multiple villains but the top three pro heroes were able to fight them with ease. As they were evacuating the civilians, there was another explosion, worse than the original. It was followed by three more, destroying the mall completely.

The trio worked as fast as they could, but in the distance, they saw a large chunk of a building fall and land on a girl.

"NO!" The three screamed as they ran towards her. Unfortunately, more pieces fell and they were blocked off. The three could do nothing but wait, while help arrived. The paramedics were here, the firefighters were helping put out the fires, and the three felt completely useless. Deku was told if he used his quirk to move the boulders, he might make the situation worse and potentially kill the girl, who was still, thankfully, alive under the rubble.

It had been around five minutes, which felt like an eternity to the three heroes, when help arrived and they slowly moved the rubble away. While they waited, both Todoroki and Bakugou felt a stinging pain in their right wrist. They both looked at each other as they removed their gloves to check. Bakugou had to take his arm gauntlet off and the two watched in horror as the name, that used to be an opaque shade of black, was now fading.

"No..." Todoroki muttered, his gaze shooting back at the rubble. "Th-that's her?"

"What's wrong you two?" Deku inquired, looking at his friends.

"That's (f/n)! Sh-she's in there!" Most of their friends knew of the other name on their wrist since they had ended up asking everyone they could, so Deku knew that name well. It was the name of their second soulmate, one they both shared.

"Oh no!" The green-haired male leaned over and noticed as the names started fading. "Th-that means... she's dying!"

It was true. When the large chunk landed on (f/n), she fell face down, a metal bar that supported the cement block impaling her torso. The longer they waited, the more she bled out. Currently, under the rock, she was also losing oxygen. She could no longer feel her fingertips and feet, her head was fuzzy, and the excruciating pain in her torso was indescribable.

Due to the dust, the girl would cough, and the coughing only added to the pain. Tears slipped from her cheeks as she looked up at her wrists, that she had out in front of her. On her right wrist was 'Shouto Todoroki' and on her left wrist was 'Katsuki Bakugou'.

"I-I'm sorry..." She choked out, as she felt blood push through her throat. She coughed and spit it out to the side, laying her head back on the ground. Her hair stuck to her face, surrounding her mouth and nose, making it harder to breathe, but she felt too weak to move it away.

As (f/n) laid there, she thought back on her life. She hadn't made a mark, she hadn't done anything in life. She was just a quirkless loser who worked at a well-known cafe. She was going to school... but she wasn't done. She was gonna die and no one was going to remember her. She let the tears fall and shut her eyes as the pain took over. Her breathing became heavier and more ragged. She wasn't going to make it out. Her eyes opened as she heard a voice yelling through the rocks. It was muffled... but she could kind of understand it.

"(F/N)! WE'LL GET YOU OUT! WE PROMISE!" Was that right? She blinked as the lack of oxygen hit her hard. Her blood has soaked her entire outfit, coming all the way up to her chin. She tilted her head up and looked at the names, before the light drained from her eyes. Another quirkless nobody wiped from the planet.

Outside, all three heroes were now pulling the boulders off, trying to get the girl free. Finally, one of the helpers managed to get a large chunk that was right in front of her face.

"HERE!" He called. Deku immediately used his quirk and pushed the biggest piece off, throwing it against the other rubble. Both Bakugou and Todoroki's eyes widened as they watched her name disappear completely off their wrists.

"No!" They ran to her. She was laid out, chest down on the ground, her face covered with her hair. They saw the large metal bar that was still in her torso, they saw the blood that drenched her clothes and covered the floor. But most importantly, they saw her wrists. She had them crossed over each other, her left was facing up, where Bakugou's name was. The ash-blond reached down and moved her wrist, revealing her right, where Todoroki's name was.

"Sh-she... she was ours too..." Bakugou breathed. Both he and Todoroki removed the metal bar and turned the (figure) framed girl around. They sat on either side of her and lifted her up. Their eyes widened at her beauty, but tears welled up when they saw her dull, lifeless, (e/c) eyes. The two caressed her face as the tears slipped out.

"We failed, Sho." Bakugou cried. "We failed her..." The dual-haired male nodded as he wiped his face, sighing as he looked up at the bright sky. It felt like a nightmare. Just... just a nightmare.

"Sh-she needed us... and we couldn't save her." The two didn't get much time with her, since she had to be taken away. While she was put in a body bag and placed to the side while the officers gathered any other casualties. So far, there were none, just her.

On the side, all three pro-heroes were being questioned, neither Bakugou nor Todoroki wanted to deal with it, but they had to. While they were talking, they were clueless about what was happening. (f/n) did have a quirk, one that was completely useless to her in every situation except this. Her quirk was called Resurrection. It was rare, one in a billion.

Since the body bag was opaque, the light that healed her wasn't visible. The two broken-hearted males didn't even notice or feel the name reappear on their wrists. (f/n)'s dull (e/c) slowly shone with life and she blinked, slowly coming to. She tried to move, but her body was constricted... what was holding her? She couldn't breathe... she couldn't breathe! Not again!

Her heart sped up when she realized she was stuck in a bag. She tried to push it open, but it wasn't working. Panic set in and she let out the loudest, most terrifying, blood-curdling scream she could muster, her arms and legs flailing about wildly.

The heroes immediately turned to face the scream and everyone froze. Their eyes widened as they saw her body bag moving- she was begging for help. Bakugou and Todoroki ran to her, practically tearing the bag open and watched as the girl screamed and covered her eyes with the bag of her hands. The sun was high in the sky, blinding her. They both saw their names on her wrist and took the wrist that belonged to them.

"You're ok." They breathed, unable to believe what had happened. There was no way, but here she was. She opened her eyes and they saw the life behind them, tears spilling from their own.

"Wh-who..." She trailed off as the two males kissed the back of her hands.

"I'm Katsuki Bakugou."

"And I'm Shouto Todoroki." They introduced and watched as her beautiful (e/c) orbs widened. "You're (y/f/n), right?" She gave them a wordless nod and they helped her stand. She stood and looked down noticing that she was covered in blood. As she took a step out of the body bag, her knees buckled but the two males supported her as they walked her to the ambulance.

For the time being, it was unclear to everyone what had occurred. The paramedics wasted no time as they started to check her vitals, but everything was ok. They even inspected her wound, which was no longer there, there wasn't even a scar left. She was... fine.

Once the medics concluded she was ok to go home, the two men approached her once again. They offered to drive her home, to which she accepted. They had to walk to the agency nearby, where Todoroki let her borrow his clothes, since his hero costume wasn't as... flashy as Bakugou's.

As the three walked to Todoroki's car, the girl voiced her concerns. She had realized that her purse was missing, therefore, she didn't have any keys to get into the house with.

"My purse..." She started as she looked at the two males. "I-I must've lost it during the attack... I had my keys and everything in it... I-I can't get into my house without them."

"We can go to our house, if you're ok with it." Normally, (f/n) would've declined immediately. However, these two were her soulmates, there was no way they'd hurt her.

"Sure." They approached Todoroki's car and Bakugou opened the door for (f/n), letting the girl slip into the back as he got into the front seat.

"How are you feeling, (f/n)?" Todoroki inquired, looking at the rearview mirror, to see her face. She gave him a slight nod.

"I'm ok... I feel a bit weird though."

"Weird how?" Bakugou asked, looking back at her.

"Hmm... Like I just woke up from a really deep sleep." They nodded understandingly. Well, she did just wake up from the dead... so makes sense. The three made small talk until they arrived at Bakugou and Todoroki's house. The girl's eyes widened a bit as she took in the sheer size of it... well, they were the 2nd and 3rd ranked heroes so that made sense. Todoroki got out and opened the door for (f/n), helping the girl out. She tried to keep her reaction to the house at a low because unlike them, she didn't live at a glamorous house. In fact, she was kind of happy she lost her purse. Her apartment was quite run down, it was not in the best neighborhood, and she did NOT want them to see it.

The three walked into the house and the two led her upstairs to the master bedroom and bathroom.

"You can just use our stuff since we don't have any girl products. Whatever you need, go ahead and use it." Bakugou said as he walked into the closet and grabbed his own shirt and Todoroki's sweatpants. Her other soulmate led the girl to the bathroom, who tripped a bit as the world spun. Bakugou was at her side within seconds, their fear of losing her again, returning.

"Woah." He caught her, leading her to the bed but she refused.

"N-no, I don't want to mess it up."

"They're just sheets." The two males sat the girl down who took in a few deep breaths as her quirk activated again. They watched as (f/c) light bathed her body and within seconds, she seemed... rejuvenated.

"Woah," She smiled up at them. "I feel much better already! That was weird."

"Hey, (f/n)," Bakugou started. "What's your quirk?" The girl frowned and shook her head.

"Don't have one. Been quirkless all my life." She raised her head with a sad smile. "I still have hope, maybe one day, I'll have a cool quirk like you two!" The look in her eyes made their chest hurt. They could see the desperation in her eyes, they could sense it in her words, they could see it in her smile, but at the same time... she was just a bit hopeful. Her smile fell and she looked down at her bloodied hands and arms.

No matter what she did, no matter how much she cried and screamed, she could never be on their level. She didn't do anything as amazing as they did, she wasn't talented, she wasn't... she was a bad match for them. Todoroki was the number two pro hero and Bakugou was number three, she was a waitress at a cafe. She had no quirk, she barely had any money, and at this point in her life, she had no motivation to really deal with anything.

She knew. She knew who her soulmates were, she just chose to lie earlier. Although they mostly went with their aliases Hellfrost (I saw this name... and I loved it... I just need him to have a hero name for the purposes of this story, so chill) and Ground Zero, during interviews they sometimes used their real names.

At her cafe, they had TVs that usually had the news channel on and one day, she caught an interview with them. She almost cried from joy when she found out who her soulmates were but throughout the day, she only felt worse. Especially when she realized they were together and happily so. Ever since, she just pretended like they weren't hers. The universe must've had a different plan since it threw her at them. Now here they were, two of the greatest heroes, in front of her. A quirkless nobody.

"I-I feel better now, so I should go wash this off before I ruin even more of the sheets." The two males nodded and let her go into the bathroom and Shoto showed her how the shower worked. While he did so, Bakugou showed her where the towels were and gave her their clothes.

"We'll be downstairs. Take your time." He said as the two left the bathroom. Once the door shut, she let the tears slip. What was she going to say now? They all had each other's names on their wrists. What if... no. She didn't want to be in a relationship with them, she wasn't worthy.

She entered the shower and watched as all the dried blood came off and pooled around her feet before disappearing down the drain. Wait... whose blood was that? Looking down, she saw no bruises or cuts, nothing.

Wait... what happened again? Everything was starting to become fuzzy. She... got hurt right? That blood was hers. She remembered laying down in the dirt, the heavy slabs of concrete on her back, and that... pole thing through her torso. It hurt so damn bad.

Her eyes scanned her entire body. Where were the injuries? She woke up in a body bag, who healed her? Why would they heal a dead person? Shaking her head, she pushed the thoughts out of her head for the time being.

She saw two separate body washes and shampoos. Unsure of which ones to use, she just shrugged and picked a random one. It smelled amazing. On rare occasions, the girl could afford to buy one decent body wash, not those cheap ones at her local store.

After she was done and she made sure she was completely clean, she turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping the towel around herself. Her (e/c) scanned the bathroom, it was quite large. The shower itself was quite large, able to hold at least five people in it. The tub was a few feet away, also quite large against the wall. There were three steps leading up to it. Behind the tub were windows, however, it was safe to enter and exit the tub without fear of anyone seeing. It was bright white, with golden rims. In fact, the entire bathroom was white, with golden accents.

They had two sinks and mirrors, with multiple products on there, arranged neatly. Parallel to that sink, on the other side, was a vanity. There was a chair with large lights around it in case anyone wanted to get ready. The spacious, luxurious bathroom made her own look like a complete dump. Which it was, if she was being honest.

Her bathroom was a fraction of the size, in fact, their bathroom and half of the bedroom was the size of her entire apartment. Unlike theirs, her wallpaper was peeling, the natural color of the toilet, sink, and tub was an ugly yellowish-brown color, and there was barely any room for her to move around.

"Man... if I saved up every single dollar for the rest of my life... I still wouldn't be able to afford a place like this." She muttered as she dried her hair and body.

In the distance, with the other products, she saw body lotion. Her skin was a bit dry... and they said they didn't mind it if she used any of their products. She hesitantly walked over to it and picked it up, opening the top and applying it all over her. After that, she slipped on their clothes. The shirt was quite large, almost like a dress for her. The sweatpants needed to be tightened quite a bit so they wouldn't fall off. She approached the vanity and stared at herself. There was still light makeup on her face (whatever bit you wear, if you don't wear any, then there's nothing on your face). She looked at the clothes, they looked even sillier, but she liked it.

As she stood there staring at herself, she remembered something. She had a spare key, she just never used it. There was a loose brick in her wall, right by her door, that she had pulled out and hollowed. She kept her spare key in there, the best place. Her neighborhood wasn't the safest and so she couldn't keep her key under the mat or in the plant (except she didn't even have a plant). She could go home! No need to spend more time with them! Although... just that thought hurt her heart. She couldn't though. She... just couldn't.

She dried her hair as best as she could and then finally exited the bathroom. Outside, she saw her somewhat dirty flats and slipped them on. They said they would be downstairs... but downstairs where? The house was huge. She hesitantly walked out of the master bedroom and walked down the large stairs. Her eyes taking in all the sights. The most impressive thing to her was how spacious everything was. Her apartment was really tiny. The kitchen and living room were in the same place and then she had a small bedroom and bathroom.

Due to her job, she had to purchase the cheapest place she could find and that apartment was $450 a month, perfect for her paycheck. She hated it, it was hideous, but there was nothing she could do.

As she wandered, she heard voices and followed through a doorway and saw the two sitting on a large couch. That... must've been the living room. Where she stood, she could see the entire thing. The living room was huge, there were three couches, two facing each other and the last one was adjacent. That couch faced the wall, with a large TV. In the middle of the couches, was a glass coffee table, decorated with a flower in the center. The ceilings had chandeliers, there was a large aquarium in the back... it was amazing. Her eyes landed on the duo again, Todoroki and Bakugou were both sitting close to each other, holding hands as they were talking about... well her. Unsure of what to say, she simply cleared her throat causing them to look at her.

"Hello. How do you feel?" Todoroki inquired as he gestured for her to sit. She walked towards them and sat down on the couch next to theirs, trying to keep some distance. Although, they were hurt, they understood she needed space. All of this, must've been quite a bit for her, especially her dying and coming back to life.

"I feel much better." They were silent until she looked up at them. "What... happened? I... don't remember much."

"What do you remember?" Todoroki asked.

"I was at the mall... buying... something. There was a loud sound and everyone started running. I think I fell?" (f/n) paused, racking her mind for more information. "I just remember laying on the dirt, my stomach hurt. There was a pole or something going through it. There was a lot of blood, my chest hurt, and I just remember looking at my wrists and... feeling sorry." Her eyes glanced down to her bare wrists, their names were neatly written across each other. Slowly, her fingertips gently traced Bakugou's name, then moved to trace Todoroki's name.

They silently watched her, wanting to see how their soulmate worked. They watched as (f/n) as she stared at her wrist, then placed them together. As if she was trying to figure out the reason for the names on her wrist, she stared at them. Finally, her hand reached out and scrubbed Todoroki's name, viciously. Was she trying to get rid of it? Did she not want him? Did... she want either of them?

Finally, she stopped, her thumb running over the name, ever so gently, they watched as she mouthed the name, doing the same with the other wrist. It seemed as if she'd come back to life, her head tilting up to look at them.

"Oh... sorry."

"No, it's ok. We should... really talk about your quirk." Bakugou started, making her shake her head.

"I don't have one."

"But you do," Todoroki started. "It must be called Resurrection. It's a rare quirk and I've only heard of one other case ever since quirks have been documented. There might be more, but I haven't seen any other research on it."

"Resurrection?" (f/n) muttered, making them both nod.

"You died, (f/n)," Bakugou said. "You died, your name disappeared from our wrist. But look, here you are. Alive and well. All healed."

"So... I healed myself?" They both nodded. (f/n) looked away, letting the information sink in. She... wasn't a quirkless nobody? She had a quirk, a rare mutation. She had a quirk. She had a quirk! It wasn't like theirs... it was something completely different! "I... have a quirk." She whispered, leaning back onto the couch, her eyes glancing up at the chandelier above them. "I have a quirk."

They spent quite a while talking about it, neither of them really having a definitive answer. They mostly just had theories, to which Todoroki suggested (f/n) go to a quirk specialist, to figure out what it really was. During this time, (f/n) remembered her information from the shower.

"Oh, while I was showering, I remembered I have a spare key at my house. I can just use that to get in."

"But... shouldn't you stay here for a while? Today was quite a bit for you." Bakugou insisted but she shook her head with a grateful smile.

"No no, I couldn't impose. You've already done so much for me. Besides, I have work tomorrow and I'd prefer it if I didn't miss it."

"Are you sure work is such a good idea. You've been through a lot today." She smiled at their concern.

"I feel just fine right now, in fact, I feel like the attack wasn't even today. However, if I'm not feeling good tomorrow, I'll call in sick." The two started to get a feel for her personality. She was the shy type, she wasn't the type that would be comfortable with spending too much money (if that's not you, feel free to change the description), and she was always grateful for any and all the help she got. They didn't want her to leave, but understood.

They had been searching for her, searching for their missing piece for over ten years and here she was. However, she was intent on leaving. While she was showering, Todoroki was talking Bakugou down from being too abrasive. He wanted Bakugou to understand that the girl probably knew of them, especially since their names were no secret. She chose not to come looking, so she needed to be given the choice to be able to walk away. Reluctantly, the hothead agreed.

"Well, let's go then," Todoroki said, standing up grabbing the keys that lay on the coffee table, both (f/n) and Bakugou followed. The girl shook her head profusely, refusing his offer within seconds.

"Oh! No, no! I-I can go home myself."

"There's no way we're letting you walk home by yourself," Bakugou argued, causing her to give him a weak smile.

"I've been walking myself home for like nine years now. Really it's ok." This time, the dual haired male spoke.

"I'm with Suki on this one, we're not gonna let you walk home." She frowned at the two males and tried to speak up when the ash-blond beat her to it.

"Look, we're your soulmates. You're not imposing and we can't just let you walk out of our house and walk home late at night." She gave it a thought before nodding.

"Ok then." Todoroki walked to a nearby desk and opened the drawer. He took out a little notepad and neatly wrote down his and Bakugou's numbers, then tore the little page out and handed it to her.

"Not sure if your phone was in your purse but here. In case you need anything, feel free to call." She smiled and took the paper, thanking them, slipping it into her pocket.

As she retracted her hand, Todoroki grabbed her wrist. Gently pulling it towards him, he turned her hand and looked at his name. Bakugou approached as well, taking her other wrist, with his own name. The three were silent as both males gently traced their names on her wrist.

This was rare and most people didn't choose to stay with the third soulmate. Usually, this was a backup, because it meant one of them was dead.

As they were trancing their fingers on her wrist, (f/n) grabbed their hands, turning, just like them, and looking at her own name. Her thumb grazed across her own name, wondering what they'd done to get someone like her as a soulmate. They deserved so much better... what bad luck they had.

With that thought, she retracted her hands, looking up at them with a forced smile.

The three made their way to the car, (f/n) racked her mind for a plan. She couldn't just show them her living condition! That's when an idea hit her. Four blocks from her house were these apartments. They were much nicer and each apartment building had a door at the bottom that was unlocked.

"What's your address?" Bakugou asked, looking back at her. She gave him the address for the apartments. The drive was mostly small talk, similar to earlier. A little while later, they arrived at the apartments.

"We can walk you to your apartment." Bakugou offered but she shook her head.

"It's ok, it's pretty safe from here. Thank you both so much for everything. I promise, I'll return these clothes to you." They both smiled and nodded at her as she got out of the car and walked towards the door. She prayed to the gods that the door wasn't locked today and it wasn't. She breathed a sigh of relief as she opened it and waved back at them one last time before going inside and letting it close. She headed up the stairs and hid by the window and waited until they were gone before she walked out.

She then quickly made her way to her actual house and made it there safely. She got the spare key, opened the door, and walked in. She locked the door behind her as she sat on her couch, a frown forming on her face. What an ugly house. She sighed and looked at her TV and on the TV stand, she saw her phone.

"Great. I lose my wallet, my decently expensive purse, my keys... but my phone's alright." She grabbed it and fished out the piece of paper she got earlier and saved the two numbers into her contacts.

~**~

It had been about three days since the incident, and (f/n) was back at work. She was currently standing at the cash register with her coworker, (c/n).

"You met them?! Then why are you still living at your old place? It sucks and it's so dangerous." Her friend asked.

"Yeah, but... let's say your soulmate was Deku. Would you be ok with just... going and living with him? Knowing this is what we've amounted to? At least you have a decent quirk. They're pro heroes. They spend their lives protecting and saving innocents. The only thing we're saving is cranky people who barely got sleep last night." Her friend laughed bitterly.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." She was silent for a moment before speaking again. "It'd be an embarrassment for him... to have his soulmate be a waitress." (f/n) nodded.

"See? They're the number two and three pro heroes," She whispered, avoiding unnecessary attention. "They're bathroom is bigger than my entire apartment. I'm just... I'm just... embarrassed." She added, blinking to keep her tears at bay.

"Have you called or texted them since?" She shook her head.

"I mean, they've said hello and that's all I replied too, but we aren't exactly talking." (c/n) understood what (f/n) meant, yes, it was amazing that her soulmates were two amazing pro heroes, but that just fueled the self-hate she already had within her. She wasn't anyone special. So why? Why should she be? Besides, they had each other, they didn't need her. They were just lucky that all three of them were soulmates.

Work was pretty busy that day, (f/n) didn't have much time to check her phone, but she was watching the news at her work. There they were again, Katsuki Bakugou and Shouto Todoroki. Being the amazing people they were... if she could have one wish, she'd choose to erase her name off their wrists.

~**~

It was now 2 am and (f/n) just couldn't sleep. Her mind returned to the incident two weeks ago, her thoughts being invaded by her two soulmates. She had to admit, all this time, being without them, hurt so much, more than it did just watching them on tv.

No matter what she did, she couldn't rest or get her mind off of her two handsome soulmates. So she walked to her living room and turned on her TV. There was a knock at her door and she frowned as she muted the TV and stood up. She walked to her door and looked through the peephole. Outside was her neighbor (r/n [random name]) (here is your chance to imagine the person you hate lol). She opened the door and saw two more people behind (him/her).

"(r/n), what's up?" (He/she) pulled out a gun and (f/n)'s eyes widened. The three pushed their way into her house and she glared at them as they started grabbing her things. "We live in the same shitty complex! You seriously think I have anything you can rob?! What are you gonna steal?! My TV? It's five years old! What else? My will to live? Not even sure I still have that." They just grabbed everything and she growled, but was unable to do anything due to one of their quirks.

Her legs felt heavy and she was unable to move, only watch helplessly as they raided her home. However, as they left, they grabbed her, making her scream and struggle. (r/n) tried to stop (his/her) friend, giving (f/n) the chance to kick (her/him). (he/she) groaned, something falling out of (his/her) pocket, but neither noticed. (r/n) lifted the gun to her head, causing tears to well up as she shook her head. (His/her) friend quickly left the apartment with the other accomplice.

"(r/n), I swear to god... don't do- please." (he/she) muttered an apology as (he/she) pulled the trigger.

The second the gunshot rang throughout her house, Bakugou and Todoroki felt the same stinging pain they had over two weeks ago. They shot up in bed and immediately looked at their wrist. Her name was gone... AGAIN! The two didn't say a word as they bolted out of bed and grabbed the car keys. The two slipped on some clothes, since they slept in boxers, and grabbed their cellphones.

~**~

(r/n) shut the door as the group ran away. (f/n) lay on her living room floor with eyes wide and blood all over her. It had only been a second before her quirk activated again, healing her wound and bringing her back to life. She slowly sat up as the memories rushed back to her.

"I just died... but... I'm not dead..." The girl frantically sat up and looked for her phone. Thankfully, it was under the couch cushions and the robbers weren't able to steal it. She grabbed it and immediately called Bakugou (his name was on top of the list because ya know... alphabetical order). Bakugou almost cried in relief when he heard her voice.

"I'm fine!"

"What happened?"

"My neighbor happened!" She cried as she touched her face, which had blood on it.

"We're heading to your place right now, just stay there." (f/n) paled as she realized where they were going. Not to her damn house, that was for sure. Her heart sped up as she racked her brain for an excuse.

"W-wait! No, it's ok! (He/she)'s gone already!"

"I'm not gonna argue with you again, we'll be there soon," Bakugou said.

"Gr-Ground Zero! I'm fine!"

"It's Katsuki and no you're not. We're already on our way, don't bother trying to stop us." The blond added, leaving no room for arguments, making the girl sigh in defeat as she pathetically told him the truth.

"Ok... then... come to (insert address). I live here..."

"Wait, what? Why is that a different address?"

"You'll see..."

"Ok, be there soon. Just stay hidden somewhere, in case your neighbor comes back."

"Ok." They hung up and Bakugou told Todoroki the new address and clearly, both were confused. However, when they realized the distance between where they last dropped her off and her real home, concern built up. When they saw the area... they understood why.

(f/n) washed her face to clean off any blood she could and then sighed as she looked around her house. It was a mess, everything valuable had been stolen. Well... almost everything. She heard a knock at her door and opened it, relieved to see the two heroes. She looked down and opened her door, moving to the side, letting them in.

"What happened?" Todoroki inquired as the two looked around.

"My neighbor apparently thought I had better things than (him/her)." She kicked a nearby water bottle as she sat down on her couch, her head falling in her hands. They both sat next to her and rubbed her back as they heard a sob. After a few minutes, she calmed down and stared at the ground. "The day hasn't even started and it's already awful." It was now 2:30 am, so she had a point.

"Why did you lie about where you lived?" The dual haired male inquired, causing her to scoff.

"Have you seen your house? Do you see mine? It's embarrassing. My two soulmates are so much better than me in pretty much everything. I feel like an embarrassment next to you both. That's why I was in such a rush to leave. I just... I can't be that little charity case! I don't wanna be that rando that's associated with two amazing people."

"You're not a charity case though. You're our soulmate, you're our missing piece. Who cares where you live or what you do or don't do." He responded quietly, crouching in front of her.

"Come live with us," Bakugou said, taking her hand and squeezing it. Almost immediately started shaking her head.

"Please. This... is the only way we can make sure no one's gonna hurt you." Todoroki added.

"I-I'll be... fine." She whispered. They took her wrists, tracing their names.

"Please." They said together, unsure of what else to say. She was hesitant at first, still wanting to reject their proposal, wanting nothing but to disappear into the void now that they'd seen her house. But... they were insistent. So, she inhaled and then gave them a nod.

"Ok... i-if it's not too much." They only chuckled and kissed her head.

"We'll get your stuff ready! Come on IcyHot." The girl giggled at the nickname as the two ran into the bedroom. She smiled at the ground, but her brows furrowed as she spotting something.

"A wallet?" She reached out and grabbed it. Her eyes widened when she realized it was (r/n)'s. As she stood up, her front door, making her wide eyes shoot to meet the person standing there. (SHE/HE) CAME BACK?!

What was her life?

It was (r/n), probably came back to get the wallet. (he/she) held the gun up again and an idea hit (f/n).

"You need this right?" (r/n)'s eyes widened when (she/he) saw the wallet in (f/n)'s hand. "I just want you to know... I've always hated you." With that, the girl ran to her bedroom, causing (r/n) to shoot and miss. She saw both Bakugou and Todoroki run out and ran right past them, into the safety of the room.

Before (r/n) could do anything, the entire living room was frozen. Both males glared at (r/n) realizing it was (him/her) who hurt their precious (f/n). Said girl poked her head out from behind them and yelled:

"SUCK ON THAT (R/N)!"

~**~

The hectic night was finally over as the trio returned to the house. (f/n) smiled at the thought of living in such a huge house. The two males brought her stuff upstairs to their bedroom, but when she realized it she stopped them.

"Wait, you don't mind me being in your room?"

"Why would we?"

"Well... I was just..." She trailed off as they both turned to her. Maybe... she wasn't aware of their intentions yet.

"(f/n), we want you to be in a relationship with us." The girl seemed taken aback, her eyes darting around the room, refusing to look at the two males in front of her.

"But wait... aren't you both..."

"Yes and we want you to be a part of it, come on keep up!" Bakugou said, getting impatient. Todoroki knew he had to take control before it got worse, for any reason.

"Suki, relax," Todoroki said, as he looked at the girl. "If you want to wait, that's fine, we can move your things to a guest bedroom. Or if you just want to be friends, that's understandable as well."

"I... um... have never... I've never had a boyfriend before." She admitted around the room sheepishly, before her gaze returned her two soulmates. This is where she saw the main difference between the two. Todoroki had an understanding smile, but Bakugou had a smirk.

"Perfect. First and last." He moved in towards the girl, causing her cheeks to flush red when Todoroki pulled him back.

"Suki," It was a warning.

"I'm kissing her first."

"What if I want to?"

"Well you're always second, so" (cue that "ooh" meme... cuz yeah... ik im trash) The girl gasped and covered her mouth as she saw Todoroki's eye twitch. "Lemme see them lips, love." Todoroki jumped right in and pushed Bakugou away, picking up the girl.

"Mine, THIRD PLACE!" With that, the girl was on the other side of the room with Todoroki.

"Listen here half-n-half bastard," Bakugou said, putting his hands on his hips. "I will blow your ass up if I have to!"

"Go ahead." His boyfriend challenged. "Third place."

"Why the hell do you sound so proud?! You're still second!" Bakugou retaliated.

"Ok, but I'm not third."

"Ok, but you're second! Like father, like son."

"Now, you've gone too far." The dual quirked male grumbled as the room started to get cold.

"Come at me second place!" Bakugou challenged and Todoroki would've... if it wasn't for (f/n)'s giggles reigning through the room. They stopped, looking back at her with gentle smiles.

"Thank you." She sniffled.

"Come on, it's late, we should go to bed." It was almost 4 am now. The two started to strip making (f/n)'s eyes widened. As they removed their shirts, she could see the muscles and outlines on their backs. Every single curve and divot. Her eyes widened, her mouth agape for a few seconds before she looked away, her eyes darting back and forth as she tried to calm herself. They looked... amazing. No, amazing was too simple of a word. No doubt those muscles weren't just for show.

She blinked a few times, biting her lips in an attempt to keep her mouth from hanging open. She scrunched up her face, trying to think of anything else, but that image was ingrained in her head forever now.

'Calm down, (f/n)! Don't you start looking weird now! Relax, they're just muscles! Nothing... special... god they look so hot- NO!' She sighed in defeat. 'Who am I kidding... they look amazing'

The two paused when they noticed the girl shift uncomfortably. She was facing away from them and they weren't sure if she was uncomfortable since... well they barely knew her. Sure, she was their soulmate, but baby steps... right?

"W-would you like it if we kept our clothes on?" Todoroki inquired.

"Oh... uhhh," She giggled nervously. "Th-that's not it... just..." She trailed off as her eyes landed on their torsos again for a second or two. They saw her cheeks turn red before she inhaled and turned her head the other way, not noticing the faintest of smirks on their faces. "Stressful night." Bakugou and Todoroki looked at each other, feeling a surge of confidence. Since she was looking away, she failed to notice the two approach her.

"Yeah?" She jumped and gasped when she heard Bakugou's name right next to her ear. She froze when she saw Todoroki approach her, she had to muster every last bit of self-control she had to keep herself from staring.

"Your cheeks are red," Todoroki commented. "Are you sick?" She could hear the teasing tone behind the innocent one.

"Y-You're too close..." She squeaked.

"Is that a problem?" Bakugou asked, whispering into her ear. "Because, you can push us away... you just won't."

"Y-you're cheating..." She whispered. Todoroki's hand landed on her head before the two smiled and backed off. No, she wasn't uncomfortable, she was just beyond impressed.

The two just took off their shirts and switched into some comfortable pajama pants, while (f/n) changed out of the now bloody clothes. She was going to grab her own clothes, but she liked theirs. "C-can I borrow another shirt?" She inquired, holding up Bakugou's old shirt against her chest. He smirked and nodded, moving away from the closet.

"Grab whichever one you want." Todoroki was in the bathroom while (f/n) searched the closet. She found one to her liking and slipped it on, watching it reach her upper thigh. She had already switched into a new pair of underwear back home, so those were clean. She chose to leave the sweatpants out and got into bed, with Bakugou right next to her. Todoroki came out of the bathroom and shut off all the lights, moving in on the other side.

The three cuddled right up together and for once, (f/n) didn't feel like a nobody. She felt like she mattered and there were two people who would cross the entire world for her. Her life wasn't so bad.

[black-streak]

Waiting For The Worms - The Show Must Go On

Part 4

Sooo, this isn't nearly as dark and has very little angst in comparison to the point I'd almost say it isn't? It's pretty much just an update on life in a way. Which is also part of why it took so long for me to write. Like, the struggle was real. Next chapter will go back to your regularly scheduled heartbreak.

Warnings from chapter 1, while mostly inapplicable for this part, still in effect.

The gallery: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

The next year of Jason's life was hectic to say the least.

It started with the downfall of Lila Rossi. Which consequently, he had no part in. She stepped on the wrong toes, made a few too many contradictions and suddenly a pile of lawsuits were stacked against her. Her mother went completely ape shit on her and pulled her out immediately to be shipped off to a very strict boarding school. More like a juvenile detention center if the rumors were true.

For the first month, no one approached him. The guilty, stricken looks upon his classmates' faces told a million stories of apologetic remorse, but since becoming a jaded, snarky outcast, 'Marinette' was no longer the person you could give a simple apology to and expect forgiveness. And no one wanted to be the first to get shot down.

Eventually, the first apology came. Surprisingly, Alya tried to win his favor. She groveled and apologized up and down on how terrible she and Lila had been and named every reason in the book as to why she had reacted and treated Marinette the way she did in an attempt to explain herself. While it wasn't necessarily surprising that she would be the first to not fear him, it was shocking she saw the error of her ways so soon with all that bull headed ego she carried around.

Bravery got her nowhere, however, as Jason only lifted an eyebrow, arms crossed as he leaned back, and calmly replied.

"Cool story, still betrayal."

As the girl sputtered before him, he turned back towards Chloe, continuing to make their plans for the day. After two minutes had passed and Alya still stood there hunting for her words, he turned back.

"Can you leave? Sometime today would be nice."

And so the precedent was set. While it took another week for someone else to approach, they seemed spurred on by the ease of Alya's dismissal. Suppose they figured if the biggest offender only got mild verbal abuse and dismissal, things had to go more smoothly for them.

Nino came next, awkward shuffling and avoided eye contact included. He pushed through his apology, beating around the bush and trying to defuse the situation at the same time he built it up. It only served to piss Jason off. They deserve better than this. At least meet her eyes if you're going to apologize and expect me to believe it.

"Uh… Marinette? Did you hear me?"

"I'm sorry, were you talking to me? I assumed you were talking to the desk next to me and minded my business. Would hate to be accused of eavesdropping."

He flinched at the reminder and finally looked him in the eye.

"I'm sorry. What we did was wrong. What I did was wrong and I am so beyond sorry for it. There is no excuse for my behavior."

"You're right. There isn't. Do better in the future."

"I will!," he rushed to reassure Jason, voice hopeful, "Does this mean we can be friends again?"

"No. Do better for those who chose to be your friend in the future."

"Oh… okay, yeah, that's fair," Nino gave a downtrodden look and wandered off.

Next came Sabrina and Rose, who didn't so much as apologize to him, but instead tried to reattach themselves to Chloe and Juleka's sides as if nothing had happened at all. This might not have thrown Chloe in the slightest, but poor Juleka looked a moment from having an anxiety attack. Chloe made short work of both girls, dismissing them entirely and when Rose started to cry and stare at Juleka for reassurance that everything was okay, Jason pulled the goth into a hug, glaring at the little blonde girl, until eventually she received the hint and ran off, tears streaming down her face. Apparently Nathaniel gave Marc the same treatment.

Lastly Kim, Alix, Max, Ivan, and Mylene came as a group. They must've taken comfort in their numbers, hoping it would somehow protect them from him singling them out. Thought everything would go smoother that way. He could hear Juleka grumbling at his side where they sat under a tree for lunch. They both appreciated the shade and quiet peace of the place. Marc sat on her other side, writing away in a journal.

"Hey Mari, we wanted to apologize for the way we've been acting lately," Alix took the lead.

"Yeah, it was really uncool of us," Kim followed up, the others nodding along.

They looked imploring. Like they were waiting for some sort of forgiveness. He couldn't help but wonder if they thought their actions were somehow better. That he couldn't really be mad at them because they weren't the ones who lied or lead the pack against his soulmate. They didn't make harsh accusations or physically attack Marinette. So somehow, they were better and their apologies could be less.

How fucking rude. How presumptuous. How entitled to think his time, thoughts, feelings were forfeit in their need for forgiveness. Marinette deserved better in her time here than these heartless bastards. None of them ever defended her either. Or him for that matter. Not one of them tried to so much as change the subject to avoid harping on him. None cared when his soulmate never returned to her body. Maybe that wasn't fair, but at the very least they could've approached him in his grief when it was easily displayed. Everyone here had a soulmate and knew the signs of loss for when one died. Surely they knew that this person in this body lost their other half. And yet not a soul outside of his group had offered condolences.

"That's all you have to offer? That it wasn't cool?" Juleka asked, tone quiet but sharp.

"Well it's not like we-"

"Let me cut you off there, before you piss me off. You didn't personally attack me, you just watched and snickered behind hands. Joined in to the cruel jokes and snide remarks. Encouraged those who did attack. At least they had the decency to be that way to my face and let me know where we stood. You? Hiding behind others actions and grouping up to give half-hearted sorrys that you barely think of before you speak? Now you guys are the ones that truly infuriate me. Either you believed I deserved the treatment I received but refused to be singled out for it. Or you thought what was happening was wrong and were too much of a coward to step up and help me out. I'm not sure which is worse. Either way, I don't want to see a single one of you approach me again. I don't mean enough to you to make a stand? Then you don't mean enough to me to even speak to. Get out of my face."

When his little speech was done and the startled masses ran off with an added glare, protests held on the tip of tongues, Jason slumped back against the tree, taking small comforts in the silent support of his two companions.

Adrien never approached. That was for the best.

His friend group was also something new. Marc, Juleka, Chloe, and Kagami. The group technically leaned more female than anything, but after the heavy masculine energy of his old life, this turn of events felt refreshing. It helped that Marc came out as nonbinary and Jason couldn't help but relate in a way with his view of this body fitting as female, but his mind staying firmly male. Altering his soulmate's body to fit would never happen, but it also didn't match him. 

The group only grew stronger and more resilient after Jason agreed to revealing identities in the team. After the loss of Mari and the stripping of the ring from Adrien, Jason found it necessary to place new permanent holders. With Kagami and Chloe having screwed up their original hero personas, the placement became a challenge. 

He started out with figuring out his new cat. 

Talking it over with Fu and dragging the decision out way longer than it needed to, he eventually convinced the old guardian of Kagami's worth. She took to Plagg with ease, the design of her look altering to match. The suit stayed all black but wasn't leather and had gold detailing. The ears and tail looked more realistic as well. Her hair went pitch black and eyes went to shades of gold. Kagami insisted her new name be Serval.

Next came Chloe who ended up comforting Jason the most through his despair, whether she knew the reason for it or not. Without the bee as an easy go to, he ended up giving her the Dragon. Sure, the mix wasn't the best ever, but it kept her on the offensive side and more active, so it worked the way they needed it to. Her outfit consisted of tight fitted scales in shades of black and blue. Unlike when Kagami used the dragon, her and Longg took more to the shades of blue that came with most weather. Her shock of blonde hair played nicely with the idea of lightening on a stormy day. She went with Nimbus.

Surprisingly, Marc became the next holder. Jason planned on handing off the fox to Juleka, only to realize it wouldn't quite suit the girl. She stayed in the shadows most of the time, yes, but not really by choice. She wanted to be a model and show up in photos more than anything, so it made no sense to stick her with another identity she had to hide in. Add on the fact that she wasn't necessarily the most creative and well, Jason couldn't hand off an illusion piece to her. That's when Marc came into play. The kid had creativity in spades and preferred to avoid the spotlight. Marc and Marinette grew closer with all their time spent in the art room and courtyard together and especially with Nathaniel having ditched them. With Marc starting to build a spot of their own within the group, it only made sense to pair them with the Fox.

Now that he thought about it, the whole team really stuck with black. Marc had a black velvety almost shapeless form, with white tail, ears, sash, gloves, and boots. Their eyes fell white on gray on black and gave off an eerie feel. They choose Jocular for their hero name.

Finally, Jason hunted down the perfect miraculous for Juleka. The mouse. Quiet and unseen, playing in the background until the moment was right. And then she was everywhere, a multitude taking over the scene and overwhelming the enemy in a matter of moments. Perfect for the girl who hid behind her bangs but longed for the spotlight. Mullo played to both halves of her personality. The suit that came with consisted of a deep vivid purple that matched her bangs while detransformed. While in costume, the highlights disappeared and her eyes shined purple as well. The fit was reminiscent of a belted, hooded tunic with black leggings and matching purple booties. She went with Fievel. Turns out Juleka had an interesting favorite childhood movie. Months later, they would find themselves sitting around a tv, watching the old animated musical, but in the beginning, they just took it in stride.

The last major change came in a heavier bond forming amongst his team.

When Jason agreed to reveal identities, if for no other reason than the guilt of already keeping one major secret from the group, things spiced up. For one, Juleka and Marc traded their respective miraculouses back and forth depending on their comfort level for the day. If one felt more ready for the spotlight, they took to the mouse for the battle. If one felt especially creative at the moment, they tagged in for the fox. Of course, they jumped in with whichever they had when an akuma hit while separated, but the switch off seemed to comfort them.

Secondly, Chloe started running more interference to allow them escape time if stuck up in civilian form. Her false bratty attitude and daddy issues came into play here, despite her actual maturity about both. It helped to amp it up from time to time.

Lastly, Kagami and Jason begin to switch on occasion.

Plagg hadn't been outside the ring since Jason removed him from Adrien and Kagami received him. The shock and horror on his face when Tikki told him the reality of their situation broke Jason a little more. The cat insisted on spending more time with Jason after that. His soul resonated better with the ring anyways, so the time spent as the cat holder felt soothing after so long as the ladybug, despite this body feeling more receptive towards Tikki's magic. 

As an added bonus, the two kept the other's costume and attributes such as eyes and hair. Between that and the heavy magical glamour hiding their identities, no one, not even Hawkmoth, knew which one was which until their fighting style came into play at which point, it was too late. Luckily, with the sneaky aspects of the mouse and fox, the other two became quite the ambush as well. Add in Chloe showing up with one of three different powers at any given moment, and Hawkmoth's akumas became easy prey.

By the time the year ran out, their team ran as a well oiled machine. Despite the horrific heartbreak festering in his heart, Jason felt hopeful. Hopeful that they might take down the villain that had taken over his soulmate's life from so young. That this battle at least might end on a happy note. That soon he would be free to seek out justice for Marinette once and for all.

[soundwavereporting]

fic for @doorwingdings for the @transform-or-treat Halloween fic exchange! She requested Jazz/Prowl ala Pet Semetary. Hope I did the concept justice. This is vaguely IDW-flavored. cw for grief/mourning, alongside vague references to pretty much anything you’d expect from Pet Semetary.

“Y’know, I’d always thought of myself as level headed. Reasonable. Willin’ to do what needed to be done, say the right words to the right people, set your processor to it, and it’ll get done. I swore I’d never be one of those mechs who loses it after their sparkmate passes. That wasn’t me.

Taking him to the Acid Wastes was a mistake.”

It was not a legend, or even a myth. Jazz would have had to struggle to call it a rumor outside of the place it originated: a small town on the outskirts of Carpressa, straddling the border between a true city and the desolation of the Acid Wastes. The way the story went, the smelting pit was a relic from the Golden Age, built over a tunnel leading to the Afterspark itself. This tunnel, lined with veins of Primus’s own innermost energon, was the conduit to guide a mech to his final resting place.

Or to bring him back to the living world.

Its original name had been lost to time: there was no way the Primes and Senators would ever have deigned to have their bodies lain to rest in a ‘smelting pit’. But it was a smelting pit, cold and lifeless as the gunmetal gray forms that had been buried there.

Through the haze of rage and grief, Jazz had reasoned that even if this didn’t work, if the smelting pit was just a figment of a mech’s overactive imagination, it wouldn’t do any harm. Prowl had held little sentiment or attachment to his frame: he, Jazz thought, would have done the same thing were he in Jazz’s place.

If there was a chance: even the slightest chance, that leaving a mech’s dead frame in the cold smelting pit would bring him back? Would bring Prowl back?

Jazz would take it.

“Here’s the secret: this whole thing, start to finish? A mistake. We never shoulda pressed our luck.

“I think Sentinel knows. He signed off on ‘Prowl’s’ request for an extended leave of absence way too fast.”

Jazz had also reasoned that if it didn’t work (which it would, it had to), this would simply be an unspoken incident he would shove into long-term storage immediately. He would take Prowl’s frame back to Iacon, let Sentinel or the stylus-pushers handle the details of the funeral. Jazz would fight for Prowl to be smelted in Iacon, not Petrex. And that would be that. He would wallow in his grief for a half-million years and come out of it smiling. And if the smile was a little tinged with insincerity, or his gaze seemed distant, well.

The last thing Jazz had reasoned was that it just wasn’t fair. If Prowl had to go out before his time, it should have been helping someone. The mech had a habit of sticking his nose into places it didn’t belong, and Jazz loved him for it. He had been investigating a mech named Render for selling contaminated energon cubes. If Render or one of his mechs had shot Prowl? Jazz would’ve been competing with Sentinel and a good chunk of his Security Services to get first shot at the mech’s spark chamber.

But an accident left no one to blame.

Not entirely true: Jazz could blame the mech operating the transport. He was a minibot named Greenspark, overworked and undertrained, barely tall enough to see the controls on the vehicle he was required to operate, nonstop, five cycles at a time. He could blame the company that had ‘employed’ Greenspark, who had recruited him from an employment agency that was shadier than a clearance sale in Kaon.

Shaking his fist at the world wouldn’t do anything.

So Jazz took Prowl’s lifeless frame to the cold smelter.

He bribed a mech with six hundred shanix to take him—them—there.

In hindsight, Jazz was certain he could have found it himself: it looked nothing like the nondescript smelters scattered around Kaon or Iacon. This place was massive, a testament to the opulence of the Primes and the mecha they favored. More crypt than smelter, Jazz privately thought, and had things been different, he and Prowl would have enjoyed spending a few days exploring the place.

It was a shared hobby of theirs, one they never had as much time to indulge in as either would have liked. Both enjoyed architecture and history, things that Cybertron had in excess. It was not an unpopular pastime among Cybertronians but prior to his grief-fueled research, Jazz had never even heard a whisper of this place.

As he lay Prowl’s cold, gray form on the ornately engraved platform, he wondered if Prowl had known. Had Prowl known, and kept it a secret? Had Prowl known what Jazz might do of the situation came to it?

No. Prowl wouldn’t do anything like that. Prowl—his Prowl, vibrant and alive, with shining blue optics that caught Jazz’s attention the minute he walked in the door of Kaon Security Services—would trust Jazz’s intuition. Because that had always been them, hadn’t it? Prowl’s logic, Jazz’s intuition. Two sides of a chic-chip, blurring into sameness when Prowl’s leaps of logic came out looking like a hunch or Jazz’s explanations same out looking like a intellectual-class mech’s thesis on statistics and probabilities.

Before meeting Prowl, Jazz had been certain he was complete. He still was his own mech—Prowl hadn’t changed that. But Prowl had come into his life and added something to it: a dash of comforting stability amidst the chaos of a mech trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy in post-Functionist Cybertron.

Now, Jazz was adrift, unmoored. Anchored only by the thin ray of hope that this cold smelter in the Acid Wastes might bring Prowl back.

His quick examination of the place had revealed no trace of corpses, which left two options: mechs came and took the gray frames away after it didn’t work. Or…

Jazz couldn’t bring himself to remain inside. He camped outside the cold smelting pit, optical visor trained on the entrance as he scanned for life signs.

As these things happened, he slipped into recharge.

Jazz awoke to see a mech standing in the grand entrance to the cold smelting pit. His optics registered it as Prowl: his Prowl, standing tall and proud. His frame still bore the damage of the injury; the plating on his torso was warped and dented, but he could see the hint of a spark shining in the early morning light.

“Jazz.”

Prowl’s voice was as flat as ever. Upon closer examination, Prowl’s armor was still desaturated; the brilliant red of his chevron was a muddy shade of rust.

He hadn’t realized he had leapt to his feet, closing the distance between them.

Prowl’s frame was cold to the touch.

Jazz didn’t care.

On the sixth cycle, he commed Sky-Byte.

They met in a Stanzian café. It wasn’t often Jazz visited; he preferred the real thing on his rare trips back to his home city, but today he needed a taste of normalcy.

He tried not to think of the way Render’s innermost energon had tasted on his lips.

“It’s about Prowl,” Sky-Byte said, without preamble.

Before Jazz could reply, Sky-Byte spoke:

“Grief-stricken ending before lonely spark flies beyond the carbon”

“Hell’s that supposed to mean?” Jazz asked, immediately grateful for the distraction.

Sky-Byte’s optics narrowed.

“It means you are in mourning.”

An hour later, Jazz returned home from the café with more questions than answers, accompanied by a slowly-growing sense of dread he couldn’t put a finger on. Prowl was still in the habsuite, secured behind the best locks shanix could buy. Jazz couldn’t find it in himself to muster up the energy to even pretend to be happy to see the thing that was inhabiting his conjunx’s frame.

Jazz headed into the spare room that had quickly been converted into a second bedroom. After a moment’s consideration, he locked the door behind him. He had spent half a day attempting to soundproof the rest of the habsuite to muffle the sound of the shuffling footsteps as he incessantly paced the rooms, before realizing the absence of sound was worse than the sound itself.

“I don’t need to go over all of it again. You know what happened. How I fed him.

“They were—are—bad mechs. Ones who others whisper about when they think no one’s listening. This latest one, Render? Made his fortune selling empty cubes wholesale to th’ Dead End’s energon distribution center, a hundred cubes a shanix. No need to waste money on mechs who can’t be bothered to take care of themselves. What he didn’t tell the center is the cube quality isn’t fit for a turbolouse, much less a mech.

“Or maybe he did, and they didn’t care.

“The number of bad mechs on this planet ain’t infinite.

“If you’re seeing this, ‘Byte—one of two things happened. No matter what, I need you to call Sentinel and get a security team up to my habsuite. The number and my auth codes are at the end of this message.

“I’m not tryin’ to get myself killed. I’ll take him down and be out of the habsuite before security shows up, or I won’t.

“Either way, I won’t be around. I’ll head to Staniz. Maybe Kalis. Anywhere but here.

“Take care, Sky-Byte.”

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Bad Vegetarian | Feeding Habits #1

Hey People of Earth!

As you can see from the title, not only do we have a new series of writing updates, we have a new series of writing updates for a whole new novel that was! not! supposed! to! happen!

For any of my friends who miss Moth Work (aka myself), guess who started writing a sequel literally no one asked. :)

I’ve had ideas for spinoff stories for Moth Work (as if MW wasn’t enough of a spinoff) and was peer pressured into starting this novel by @sarahkelsiwrites​ and I’m really happy about it! I have yet to come up with a title, but the moment I do, shall inform you, but for now, we’re calling this MW2!

This book (if it even ends up being a book) starts with chapter one, Bad Vegetarian. Unlike MW, MW2 starts in Lonan’s POV (not sure I’ll switch but I’m sure it’ll be inevitable), and I’m here for it!

I’ve been wanting to explore Lonan and Eliza’s relationship in more detail since having them come together in MW by complete fluke, and oh! is the tea piping!

This chapter really illustrates how truly dysfunctional this relationship is on both sides. Here’s a break down by scene:

Scene A:

Lonan is paint shopping with Eliza who has just gone vegetarian (which is the def the most normal thing she’s spontaneously done lately). Eliza feels like celebrating by painting their entire kitchen red.

Lonan particularly is drawn to blues, but since this ain’t what Eliza wants, they go with a brilliant red.

Scene B:

Lonan lines the kitchen with painter’s tape as Eliza bothers their neighbours for paint rollers, while trying to convince himself this relationship is still somewhat okay.

While doing this, he gets his weekly call from Unknown Woman who he’s been in contact with for the last few weeks. What for? We don’t know! They talk in code, and he realizes Unknown Woman’s situation is getting worse, and impromptu, tries to do something about it.

Scene C:

Lonan and Eliza bump into each other as he’s exiting the apartment and she’s entering, and have a short, strained conversation about why he’s leaving (she’s not aware of top secret phone calls that make this book feel lowkey like the old dystopians!)

Scene D:

Lonan attempts to drive to Unknown Woman but only knows she lives in Arizona (not great for directions lol). While in the car, he realizes it’s essentially impossible to get there without knowing where he’s going, and eventually gives up and heads home.

Scene E:

TW: blood

Lonan re-enters the apartment only to find Eliza “bleeding” in the kitchen. She’s actually just being wild and this “blood” is wall paint.

Scene F:

If we haven’t already seen the dysfunction, oh does it get worse! As Lonan and Eliza try to have a *moment* Eliza has a conversation by herself and gets a lil gaslighty.

Halfway through this, Lonan gets a phone call from Unknown Woman who we finally find out is his ex-girlfriend Glenne. Sounds like tea but he’s genuinely only helping her out of her toxic situation (which will be clarified later) though Eliza’s skeptical.

This chapter was a lot of fun to write! I wrote a majority of it today, and am really happy to have a *chill* project. While I love my other books (the three I am apparently now working on at once), it’s nice to have a place to dump my ideas with characters I know very well in situations I’m comfortable in whenever I feel like writing but don’t have tons of time/ideas/energy.

Excerpts:

Here are the opening three paragraphs! The first sentence sets up the POV a little weirdly, but I think it works with a later sentence that sort of mimics this “reminder” kind of style:

There are no rules, just remember, Eliza is vegetarian. She’s into earth tones, neutral tones, leafy greens, root vegetables. It’s all new. The day she announced her diet change, she also announced a desire to repaint the kitchen, to fit the new aura, to fit the new ethics, but she wants to paint the kitchen blood red, and Lonan is still a meat-eater. He reminds himself: there are no rules, just remember, Eliza is vegetarian.

In the hardware store he thumbs paint chips. They’re set up in an array, almost like checkers, dissolving in a gradient from reds to purples. Eliza wants red, “Not necessarily earthy, but the root of organism, of life,” so Lonan looks at the blues. They’re all a variant of a seaside theme—Sea Breeze, a cloud-like blue, Beach Umbrella, a wispy aqua, Seafoam Serenade, muted like the soft side of a turquoise. Repainting the kitchen matters little to him, and so do the blues, but the red section, devilish, makes him shuffle his blue deck faster.

Radio from the store’s intercom tins through the speakers, dampened by the hustle of carts, the thud of bodies against the concrete flooring. He holds many cards up to the light, Secret Getaway and Parisian Summer almost the exact shade, but still he flicks through, until half the pile is indistinguishable, and the other half are blues he likes and not reds, like Eliza’s asked.

The next excerpt sort of highlights the last six months of Lonan’s life as he’s been on this whirlwind of keeping up with all the things Eliza has tried. I have added kudzu pudding and other kudzu food just for my pals @sarahkelsiwrites​ and @shaelinwrites​ (rlly want kudzu pudding):

Her sudden vegetarianism is not confusing to him. Eliza tries new things all the time, something he’s learned after living with her for half a year. One time, she brought home four different kinds of dried beans to make into tea, and together they drank it atop the balcony, the Vegas strip across them somehow tasting better. One time, they ate a variety of kudzu foods for a week because Eliza said invasive species had to be killed somehow, and so they spooned kudzu pudding into their mouths, kudzu root powder into their water, kudzu salads with salted almonds. One time, she put them on a warmth ban, and they ate only frozen peas, potatoes, raspberries, turned the thermostat down until every surface crackled. She liked the feeling of subtle frost on the countertops, how it jolted her when she touched it accidentally in the morning. He found her many mornings awake before him, transfixed to the table with both palms soldered to its surface, like she’d forgotten she wasn’t a part of it. One time, she paid to have the furniture in the house rearranged, not good enough for her spirit, and then reverted it two days later. “The couch doesn’t like being so close to the refrigerator,” and he could’ve asked “did you ask it?” but said, “Understandable. It shouldn’t be forced to catch a draft.” So her vegetarianism is normal. Already, she’s switched their meat supply to beetroots, chickpeas, tofu she rips apart bare-handed. For the last three mornings, they’ve both taken a shot of spinach and gingerroot, a liquid that burns to make you feel alive, as if you weren’t already.

The next excerpts kind of surprised me with their amount of humour! Not something I expect from Lonan, but I’m glad he has some sass back lol (CW: some upsetting animal imagery):

There is nothing wrong in this relationship. Everything is Eliza’s new favourite adjective—stunning. Everything is scrubbed with kitchen bleach, glittering like a plasticky pool float in the shallow end, stunning. Everything is planned, put in a calendar, a notebook, a flitter of receipts, but always planned, stunning. Everything is better, even better than better, a better that can only be described as stunning.

Lonan uses this word frequently now, rolling out a strip of blue painter’s tape and trying to find different ways it stuns. Sticks when he sticks, peels when he peels, keeps its edge when it needs to keep its edge, so it’s stunning. The bubble television is turned onto a channel about sheep, and as he lines the baseboards, outlets, catches glances of a sheer buzzing against skin, sometimes a hunting knife slicing until there’s blood. 

Eliza is asking a neighbour for paint rollers because they bought four cans of wall paint, two paint trays, a box of garbage bags, three rolls of painter’s tape, and a small paintbrush each for both of them but forgot the rollers. Stunning.

The following excerpt highlights that Lonan has a cellphone! Is Fostered just a bizarre alternate reality of a time period that doesn’t exist? Perhaps! (CW: some upsetting animal imagery):

Today, they’ll prime the cabinets, the walls, and tomorrow, scroll a coat of red onto both. The kitchen will look more like the inside of an anatomical heart, the sinks and drawers like ventricles, but this is Eliza’s vision—her tastes come alive.

The sheep are being herded by a collie. As Lonan rips another strip of tape with his teeth, he stares at the screen mounted in the corner, at the almost-naked sheep dashing across a field. How many will be slaughtered, he doesn’t know. The narrator must’ve said that, but there is no plan, really, for death. Even for sheep.

He kneels toward the kitchen vent, the tape roll linked around his wrist, and smooths a line of tape down. Eliza doesn’t want to paint the vent—it wouldn’t complete her vision—and so it will remain the original wall colour, a square of cream so worn, it’s almost grey.

Here we have some hints at Eliza’s weirdness:

He straightens and looks at her. She’s bundled in her fur coat even though she has always insisted she’s good at even Vegas’ warm winter. Since going vegetarian, she’s insisted it’s fake, even though he’s read the lining tag—100% mink. He doesn’t know why she’s needed her coat when she’s only walked up a few flights of stairs but doesn’t care to ask.

She approaches him with her thumb out, and when that thumb presses into his eye socket, he flinches.

“What happened here?” she smooths the dip of his under eyes, her fingertips cold. He smells her perfume, different today, always different, a smell like cloves and lavender. “Are you sleeping?” She presses onto her toes, examines the other side, and her frown deepens. “This doesn’t look like eight hours.”

“I’m sleeping,” he says, though they both know this is a lie. It’s taken her two weeks to notice.

“I can run to the pharmacy,” she says. “If you need a refill.”

“I’m sleeping.”

“I didn’t notice this morning—I would’ve given you another energy shot.”

Here’s a line I like because of a) skin and b) sun:

Lonan goes nowhere. This is not his plan. Asphalt whips under the skin of each tire, the setting sun wringing him blind. 

Fully sharing this for the verb zags (and also because I accidentally roast cities tho I love them I am one of these blink-less people):

He doesn’t know where he’s going. Arizona is the only thing he knows about her, doesn’t know if she lives in an apartment, a duplex, a house—fully detached, semi-detached. As he pulls into a residential neighbourhood somewhere along the vague line he’s drawn on the map from Las Vegas to Arizona, he watches for all these options. In the distance, a jogger zags across the street with her golden retriever, children play basketball on a driveway, still in their school uniforms, another woman clips the wilted stems off a magnolia bush. 

It’s when he gets closer to the apartments that the sameness is noticeable. High-rises with pearlescent windows that go pinkish in the sunset—all of them identical. Each building evenly spaced, more like a board game than a place to live. Even the space around each building is the same—the same rose hedges, the same iron fence, the same people bustling in and out, all wearing some variation of the same pantsuit, all holding some other hand—child, partner, lover. The same haircuts, smiles, eyes like marbles, as if there’s a store somewhere that sells copies, a catalogue for eyes that don’t blink. He’s been looking into the sun for too long, there must be a difference, but the longer he looks, the more indistinguishable they become.

To get out of explaining where he wants to go when he and Eliza bump into each other, Lonan says he’s visiting his sister (Reeve), and because she’s iconic and must make an appearance, here’s a line ft. our queen:

He could make the lie true. Reeve is somewhere in the country, he imagines, dancing in a faceless city, living in a motel room, tipping everyone well. 

(^^ all true)

Here we have Lonan identifying with the animals more than anything else for the second time in one chapter (TW for more blood imagery):

Lonan hooks the car keys onto the lanyard by the front door and slings his coat across the couch. The television is set to the same channel as before, though the program has switched from sheep slaughter to birdwatching. On screen, a heron perches by a riverbed, opalescent in the sunshine.

“Did you hurt yourself?” he asks, the heron now frisking up the white bark of a tree. He glances at the fluorescent red dripping between her fingers, pattering against the tile.

“I was opening the paint cans.”

“With a kitchen knife?”

He gestures to the blade on the counter, blood-free, newly sharpened.

“It’s all I had on hand.” She pulls her wrist closer to her, runs her index finger along the injured area.

“It’s clean.”

“I washed it, Lonan.”

This next one has some blood imagery so TW for that!

The heron has moved closer to the riverbed. It watches the water knowingly, its subtle simmer of movement, and after a moment of watching, strikes its beak down so it spears a trout. He misses the part where it eats. Eliza’s clicked off the TV from behind him.

She slams the remote onto the counter so hard, its back clatters off and onto the tile. “I cut my arm with a kitchen knife while opening paint cans. It happens.”

“I don’t see a cut.”

“Why would I make that up?”

“I don’t see a cut.”

She walks toward him. He expects her to shove her wrist in his face, but she doesn’t. She just holds it, some of the blood fluorescing pink, splashes onto her toes.

“You got to see your sister?” she asks.

“She cancelled.”

Eliza clucks her tongue, examining her wrist, and then she extends her arm, revealing the full patch of pale skin gone red.

Lonan takes it, and with his fingernail carves a line through the red to reveal the healthy patch of skin, painted, uncut.

And finally, here’s the last line of this excerpt that essentially explains where the title comes from ft. predator VS prey symbolism:

He’s reminded once more of the heron, how it plunged into the riverbed with ease, and the trout dangling in its beak, its commitment to life most fervent the moment before being consumed. 

So that’s going to be it for this update! I don’t know how frequently I’ll be writing this, but it’s been a lot of fun so far. I’m excited to explore more relationships I haven’t turned over in a while as a little side project while I do other things! Hope y’all enjoyed!

--Rachel