#but fortunately i do know what i want to draw so that’s the primary thing on the agenda lol

[akkivee]

so like samatoki’s bday is in 3 days!!!!

the bad news is that i haven’t started on my art for him yet 🙃🙃🙃

the good news is that while thinking about that, i have already decided what i want to do for kuukou’s bday next year lmao

[maybe-boys-do-love]

Peaceful Property went hard with dreams this week. You know, 'dream' like the American Dream? You know, 'dream' like Peach's dream of cooking in a palace for a bunch of rich people and refusing to make peace with a 'hypothetical' rival? You know, 'dream' like Home's nightmare of his poorer friend overtaking him for the harm Home caused him? You know, 'dream' like Home's fake dream of moving to America and having ten wives? You know, 'dream' like Home's real dream of having a normal family??

The dreams themselves had an air of love and hope about them, and they were nurtured with kindness and support by members of the ghost hunting team, but the show kept subtly drawing our attention to the hollowness, violence, and repression inherent to the 'dreams' in this episode. These were capitalistic and patriarchal styles of dreaming.

Notice, they exorcised no ghosts this episode. We saw instead our influencer Chai-Un (Pompam, doing THE MOST with this Old Queen stock character) ignoring Peach's offerings to his family's ghosts and going full glutton all by his lonesome. The upper crust might offer invitation to one or two from the lower class entering into their echelons, but what has that spiritually alleviated?

If the mutual heartbreak at the end of the episode wasn't enough to clue you in, these themes are the biggest indicator that Home and Peach will end up together as family. The show has framed the inherent harm and distrust between the aristocracy and the lower classes as foundational in making the patriarchal family primary. I had previously thought there was a possibility we'd get a little weird found family ending. Home, though, faked drinking to let us know he's faking other things--heterosexuality. BUT ACTUALLY, we got so many references to full-on gayness this episode, but in ways that let us know the show has a queer Marxist vision even for that. Chai-Un referring to his partner as his "wife" and playing the stereotype of Rich Gay: these aren't arbitrary.

This gay baiting question is actually thematically important. I've been enjoying the revisit to some old-school homoerotic subtext, because old-school homoerotic subtext was often tied into the same problems of patriarchal capitalism. They forged intense bonds that they then had to sever to form family units as they economically competed against each other and maintained the honor of their patriarchal position. The participated in societal dick measuring contests to see whose estates were grander and whose cok was long, as the neon sign says.

With Peach's adjustment to the contract, we are now left with the possibility for Home's queerness and desire for Peach to possibly disrupt his family's fortune in a major way. If Home really wants to exorcise the specter of Peach's pain and suffering from his waking dreams, Home can't be one of the 12 gay billionaires in the world. He's not going to be his investor or his savior. He'll have to let go of his patriarch's will to find something that won't sooth his wallet but will sooth his soul, something decidedly 'not normal.'

Side note: Who gave this show the right to let New and Tay and Jan show the true force of their full RANGE????

[kopivie]

Some little thoughts for our beloved spider detective:

Much like in canon, he learns martial arts; and that’s his predominant fighting style when in combat, with some swinging and webs added in. His father trained him since he was young, and although Heizou isn’t too keen on violence, he’s got to admit that the training comes in useful in a pinch.

He’s much more catching-the-villain than fighting-the-villain oriented — his primary motivation is to catch criminals before they can do too much harm and get them into rehab (canon motivations carrying across again).

He works with the police in general more than other Spider-people, but not consistently: he only teams up when he knows it’ll be beneficial, and if police forces become an obstacle, he just goes off and does what needs to be done himself. The police kind of hate him for being so seemingly whim-oriented and unreliable, but they recognise his skill enough to begrudgingly work with him when he comes knocking.

Heizou often underplays his strength to fool his enemies. If he can get by without using any physical force, he’ll do that; but in desperate situations, he uses the general public’s perception of him as a less physically powerful hero to his advantage and catch an enemy off-guard — but of course he has to do this rarely enough so it doesn’t become common knowledge that he’s actually very competent in combat, so usually he makes the situation such that it’s possible the damage caused could be attributed to other factors)

Having followed quite a few of Spiderman’s dealings on the news and all that, you have your suspicions about his true strength; namely, that he’s a lot, lot more competent than he lets on — like, come on, there’s no way that power line just collapsed because of the wind like Spider-Man said. There’s something fishy going on here.

Meanwhile, rather than being worried about you catching on, Heizou’s actually pretty smug (in a proud way) and loving the fact you’re picking up on the clues, even though he doesn’t let you in on it — a kind of ‘heh, I knew you’d get it’ reaction 

When he’s wandering around as a civilian, he calls his intuition his intuition, but when he’s in action, he calls it his Spidey-sense. His intuition is also insanely accurate, even more so than in canon: it was already on point before he got bitten, and afterwards… if he ever wanted to switch professions to a fortune teller, he’d be more than welcome. It’s actually unfair.

Heizou knows he shouldn’t tell you outright about his identity, but he’s can’t help nudging you towards it… so every time he’s around you in either form, he’s probing lightly into what you think of his other ego and dropping not-so-subtle hints about his identity — think about how, if you played the Arataki Touring for Life whatever festival event, Heizou left that note at the end essentially telling-but-not-telling the Traveller what happened. He does that. A lot. Maybe you’re just wilfully ignorant at this point for his own sake.

I’m also wondering what kind of person the reader is. I’ve got this idea that the two first met at some mystery novel society and grew closer from there — possibly, if we want some lovely romantic cliches, they met Spider-Man that very night when he helped them out with something (either getting them out of danger or even, like, noticing they’re struggling with their bags and offering to carry a few things lmao).

Anyway, so, reader. I’m not quite sure what they study—potentially law, to complement Heizou’s detective work, or something like biochem for a future career in forensics, or psychology, or… you get the idea. It’s pretty much throwing darts and seeing what sticks at this point.

One thing I thought might be a nice little hobby for them is drawing comics — and then their little crush on a certain local hero starts creeping into their stories and illustrations, and… hey, when did your OC superhero start looking so much like Spider-Man? (Also, the moment Heizou finds out about your comics, you can bet he’s following each one to the T, theorising story beats… maybe he off-handedly mentions your art accounts in an interview with the police, and now you’ve got, like, 50k followers. Whoops!)

Spidey!Heizou is also normal Heizou’s teasing amped up 200%. You will not catch a break. Sorry. I’m not sure what nicknames he uses for the reader yet, though… any thoughts?

That’s all I’ve got for now… he’ll definitely be ticking over in my brain for the next few days.

-🎻 anon

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHSDUISHFKDJFHSDFJADFHAS OKAY OKAY OKAY WAIT HOLD ONNNJKNFKBJKDBFS FUCK THIS IS SO COOL HNNNGG

reader being a forensics student would be pretty silly, no? in my city we have a school for criminal justice, so being a forensics major isn't too out of the ordinary for me to imagine -- the hard part is figuring out what type of forensics the reader would go into, because there are so many different sub-categories for forensics.

but maybe psychology would suit them better since they could discuss what they think spider-man is thinking with heizou, and he could give some... insight. OR since you said he's more about rehabilitation, reader could be going into some sort of prisoner reform program where they help the people that spider-man sends their way?

either way, while spider-man's teasing might increase, your ability to keep up could be tested since you two just. play mind games with each other. he plays the detective who analyzes your every move behind the mask and you try to rely on wordplay rather than give him the satisfaction of reading your expressions.

(it'd be a real shame if you became a criminal who used the malleability of words to get away with crimes somehow, hm. a perfect counter to spider-man -- while he may be one step ahead, he can't really account for the many implications of your every word.)

[sennamybeloved]

Sorry I know I already sent an ask but would it be possible to know some trivia about you and Mileena? As a fellow villain liker I am dying to know about you guys! - flowerhound

awww oh my god ;; these asks are so fucking sweet, thank you SO much for them. it genuinely means a lot that someone is this interested in what i have to say about my girl. of course you can have some trivia about us.

(also, i apologize that it took me a minute to get to this! wasn't ignoring it, just trying to perfect my answers :>)

this specifically discusses mk9 - 11 mileena! mk1 is excluded for now.

in mk9 - mk11, my self insert is a genetic experiment done by earthrealm's government, combining humans with animals to create ultimate war machines. however, very few of the experiments were successful, and those that were escaped when the laboratory they were created in fell apart. i was combined with a fox, of course :)

i joined the tournament to cope with how hollow my life had become after leaving the lab. i was raised to fight and knew nothing else, so, kombat soothed me. imet mileena around this time, who attempted to capture/kill me, but ultimately failed, because i won her over with flattery. more specifically, i called her face beautiful, which is something she'd never been called before. so, she spared me, and we began to talk.

at this point, i didn't have a name; only a subject number that was assigned to me in captivity. so, mileena named me "phantom" after my fur and uber-cool stealth powers. it stuck, sooo, self insert name origins!!!

other story stuff is kinda blurry. i aided her during her rebellion in mkx + the comics, helped her escape captivity before we got executed, and convinced her to "settle down" somewhere away from all the drama and politics. mileena's idea of settling down still involves terrorizing people, however, she isn't like... actively wanted for war crimes anymore. so that's cool.

on the topic of general realtionship stuff, mileena is..a lot to handle. she is aggressive and childish in the same breath, meaning that she deals with everything (both good and bad) in a way that is either inherently harmful or downright frustrating. aside from the fact that she is a literal murderer, she is bossy, whiny, petulant, and a couple other things that most people would find annoying--however, i absolutely do not find her annoying. in fact, i find all of these qualities extremely endearing! even the whole murder thing.

she's extremely clingy. she wants my undivided attention and doting affections all of the time. i'm busy? nonsense! there is no reason i shouldn't be paying attention to her.

[CW: POSESSIVENESS/JEALOUSY] not only is she clingy, but she is also protective, possessive, and a tad bit obsessive; she wants me and only me, and wants me to feel the same about her. fortunately, i do, however, that does not stop her from threatening to eat those who get sweet on me. she wants everyone to know that i am claimed by her for life, and she will stop at literally nothing to prove that.

she masks it pretty well, but she is actually extremely insecure about her appearance and origins. she finds her own face to be repulsive, hence why she always wears a mask, and envies those with traditional beauty, like kitana. i, on the other hand, think she's gorgeous just the way she is, and i am not shy about telling her that. she adores my praise, so, i keep it coming.

our primary love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation. we are stuck to each other like glue, always purring compliments in the other's ear.

mileena has eaten people for me. she will continue to eat people for me. i cannot stop this from happening.

mileena loves all of my hobbies. every time i pick up something new, she wants to hear all about it. she's a great listening, surprisingly, but only when it comes to me. she has great retention when it comes to my hobbies and my hobbies alone. she loves watching me draw, adores listening to the music i make, loves proofreading my writing. she's even tried picking up some of my hobbies for herself!

i take her friendship in mk11 as canon. one of the few things she has patience for is sewing. she tailors her own clothes, fixes up my clothes, but most importantly, she makes teddy bears. she has an entire collection of teddy bears, both big and small, some created by her whereas others were stolen and scavenged. she adores them. me and her throw little tea parties with them sometimes.

she doesn't have lips, so she can't kiss me. instead, she licks me. like a dog. like this.

she also bites. it is NOT gentle, but it is out of love, so i don't really mind it.

she is actually pretty marvelous at helping me cope with my anxiety. this is because she takes everything i say at face value instead of second-guessing and trying to convince me otherwise, so she's able to meet me where i'm at.

we both kinda suck at singing, but we sing together sometimes. she has my very diverse taste in music.

[avelera]

Speaking of Behind the Scenes stuff for my dreamling fic Giving Sanctuary, I've got the last two arcs pretty firmly plotted but there were a few scenes along the way that got cut and a few ideas for scenes that just never found a place. At the risk of them showing up later, which at this point I doubt, I thought I'd discuss a few that never made it in and some reasons why:

(Cut for spoilers)

1 ) More stuff about Eleanor. Specifically, to have one of Hob's nightmares (aka, PTSD episodes) tied to holding Eleanor's hand as she died in childbirth.

This is my biggest regret for a plotline that did not make it into the story but that I really, truly, don't see a place for given what is left. Most likely, if it occurs at all, it would be off-screen and mentioned at some later point as one of the nightmares Dream eventually dispatched for Hob.

There's a few reasons why more about Eleanor and her death did not make it into the story. I think the primary one is that it felt somewhat repetitive with the Robyn nightmare of losing a loved one and unlike the loss of Robyn, Eleanor's death isn't something Hob could bond with Dream over to quite the same extent.

All it would really do in practice is reiterate some stuff we already more or less know about Hob's trauma: that he lost his wife in childbirth. Nothing really new is learned there and, if anything, it would more likely distance Dream from him rather than draw them together as Robyn's death memory did because Dream would be shown in great detail someone else Hob loved, even if he lost them. It's not equivalent to Hob meeting Calliope at all, since Hob was eventually shown that Calliope really is done with Dream (and has been for millennia) but Dream would understand and perhaps in his fatalistic way attach to the idea that Hob is still mourning and therefore in love with Eleanor (unlikely to move on) if he was exposed to that memory of Hob's.

Also, I don't want to belittle Eleanor's role in Hob's life or the impact of her loss on his trauma (as a married person and a woman, the last thing I want to do is imply Hob's chosen wife was somehow lesser in his life!), but it was categorically less traumatic for him than Robyn's death, for a variety of reasons. One being: Hob has had many lovers die at this point. It's awful and tragic but it wouldn't have been an entirely new experience for him.

Second, he had someone there for him after and someone he had a responsibility to look after in return after he lost Eleanor, which was Robyn as a ten year old child. Hob didn't have the luxury of wallowing in Eleanor's lost, he had a young son to care for.

Third, just based on my own anecdotal observations over the years, widowers don't necessarily bounce back from losing a spouse, (indeed many many people are utterly destroyed by losing a partner) but losing a child tends to hit parents much, much harder than even losing their spouse. And Hob doesn't strike me as someone who would fall into the spiral we see in the 1600s just from the loss of a lover. He's lost lovers and partners before. He was resigned to the fact he would one day lose Eleanor, if not so soon. He lived in a world with an average 20% chance of a woman dying in childbirth, he would know many people who had lost a spouse that way.

But losing a child who had successfully reached adulthood, Robyn at age 20, an accomplishment that can't be overlooked for the time. As the person that Hob had rebuilt his entire life around with Eleanor gone, it was Robyn's death that really knocked him down into the spiral that lasted 80 years. Hob didn't take serious lovers after Eleanor in GS, specifically so there'd be no challenge to Robyn's birthright, no question of dividing up Hob's fortune. He really had his entire life focused on Robyn at that point. Losing Robyn left Hob completely unmoored in the world.

So, anyway, there's multiple writerly and plot reasons not to show the impact of Eleanor's death on Hob. It was plotted to be there at the beginning indeed, at one point I thought the structure of the entire story would be based around Dream finding and dispatching Hob's points of trauma with flashbacks. But then the Robyn one was so powerful, at least for me, that backtracking to show Eleanor after seemed repetitive and a distraction from the plot by that point, which was Dream and Hob falling in love. The Naxos arc really spelled the end of that, given how long it got, and how it really refocused the story specifically on their loss of their sons and Dream and Hob's love story that emerges from that.

(At the risk of this post already being too long:)

2 ) Another plotline was going to focus on Hob leaving the manor house to walk around London with Dream and having some panic attacks around that. This was another casualty of the Naxos arc, where obviously Hob left the house and had a different sort of panic attack about being left alone in the world by Dream, such that one that takes place in London would be redundant and while based more deeply on his recent PTSD triggers, a panic attack around his own ability to survive alone would be less realistic given he's already been shown to be able to survive in London and would eventually pull himself back together if abandoned there (as we know from 1789 in canon). At least in London, Hob would have more resources at his disposal (like knowing his way around surviving there and speaking the same language) than he does when he has the full on panic attack in Naxos at the prospect of just how entirely screwed he would be, short of getting lucky enough to happen upon an English merchant ship of some sort of hitching a ride back to England as a crew member.

But originally, going back into the city of London was going to be a PTSD episode of its own for Hob. Some elements of this still might happen later in the fic, but it made more sense when the story was focused on finding and dispatching his PTSD triggers specifically, rather than the more back-and-forth of care between him and Dream established by the Naxos arc. Among the things Hob might have encountered in London that set him off were loud, intrusive crowds, people staring at him, a public execution/bodies of executed young men (ie, reminders of Robyn), and the sight of blood in stockyards (reminders of Eleanor's death in childbirth).

Short of it just being a misery tour and a history lecture on life in the 1600s, there were only a few fleeting moments in it that I was particularly attached to and again, I prefer how the Robyn memory worked out, as it was originally going to be much bloodier when triggered by a walk through London, showing Hob seeing his son's body as the point of trauma, but the fact it ended up being the lack of closure and saying goodbye to his son that really kicked off Hob's spiral of misery and agoraphobia felt less overdone and more poignant.

tl;dr Those really are the two biggest ones that don't really have a place with where the story is going. I feel some loss at them not making it in, mostly for how it leaves a bit of a bait-and-switch in the structure where it seems like Dream's focus is just going to be pinpointing and eliminating Hob's PTSD triggers via magical hypnosis therapy, but IMO the way the story has evolved since Naxos is richer and more interesting than that structure, and what Hob actually needs, more than magical hypnosis therapy, is someone he loves to be there for him in his life, and the same applies to Dream, and that theme is the one we'll be exploring in greater depth, over and above the specific traumatic episodes of their past, except where those intertwine and have a mirror in one another.

[inner-space-oddity]

Vent under the cut

What I learned from being in a mental hospital for three hours

Yesterday, I called the suicide hotline.

It’s been a long year for me, a long life, really. I’m only 19, but it’s just been a lot.

I’ve struggled with depression for over 10 years, anxiety for over 6, and C-PTSD for over 5. Over the past two years, I’ve developed chronic pain that makes it difficult for me to do the things I love like dancing and going outside.

Yesterday, I just felt so hopeless. My medical bills are adding up every day — my primary care physician recommended I see a psychiatrist (whom I can’t get in with until June), my astigmatism contacts cost over $600/year, I should be seeing a physical therapist per my prescription, and my antidepressants are being exchanged for a different type that will require an EKG (heart monitoring check-up) if I am to start them.

I feel like I haven’t been able to live up the the standards I’ve been given, or even the ones I want to achieve myself. I’ve been in a depressive episode for two weeks now.

So I called the hotline.

Here’s what I learned from the experience.

1) When the responder said he would send someone to come talk to me, three police and three paramedics showed up.

They were all wearing disposable gloves, and they didn’t sit down when I asked them to. They were all standing around me, and I felt cornered.

2) When they came to get me, they sent an ambulance.

It wasn’t scary — I’ve been in an ambulance before, and the medic was nice and she talked to me on the way. They took my blood pressure and pulse continuously on the ride and put seatbelts over my body.

3) Because I didn’t struggle or fight at all (I called willingly and I went willingly), they let me walk into the ER instead of being rolled in on the gurney. I appreciated that because it gave me a sense of control.

4) The mental health rooms in the ER actually looked like those in a horror movie.

This was the most surprising part.

The walls were beige and peeling, there was a blue cot in the middle of the room, and there was a security camera and a mirror in two of the corners. There was no handle on the door, only a lock, which I could use to open it, but I didn’t know I was able to until I left at the end.

They told me to put on scrubs and honestly, when I saw the grippy socks, I broke down sobbing (again). They weren’t even real socks lol, they didn’t have a heel, just grips on either side of the sock. They weren’t comfortable either.

After I got dressed in the scrubs, they opened the door again, but it took a while, and I was scared. I didn’t want to be alone, and they left me in there for at least ten minutes.

I don’t think anyone was actively watching the security cameras, since it took a while for them to come in after I was dressed. (I didn’t take off my underclothes, and I have no qualms with my own nudity, so it didn’t bother me too much.) They could have just been busy — it looked like a high-traffic night. But that doesn’t make it much better.

5) You aren’t allowed to have any personal items at all. At all.

I came in with the bare minimum because I didn’t know what to expect. But when they asked me to put my clothes in a bag, I asked if I could keep my sweatshirt because it’s my comfort item. They said no.

Honestly, I can’t fathom why I can’t have a sweatshirt with me to comfort me, especially since they didn’t provide anything to do after asking me a bunch of questions.

The guy who took my blood (they also collected my urine, both for drug testing purposes) told me he’d asked the administration to provide edible chalk for the residents to draw on the walls.

I have ADHD, so those three hours were THE worst. No chalk for me. I made a fortune teller out of a tissue. XD

6) The nurses misgendered me even after I corrected them.

This is a big reason why I won’t be going back to that specific hospital. I didn’t want to go somewhere that wasn’t connected with the behavioral health service I was already in contact with, but they don’t have ER care so that wasn’t an option.

The nurses also repeatedly used my legal name even though I told them my preferred name and a couple of them wrote it down on the forms.

I can safely say that this is one of The worst things you can do to a transgender person in a mental health crisis.

7) They fed me.

I…. Did not expect that at all. It was very much like a high school lunch, but it was good enough, and it helped improve my mood. They gave me Sprite instead of water, which was probably good for my blood sugar, but considering that I had been crying for the past three hours, it wasn’t exactly the choice I would have made if I were them.

8) As an adult, the hospital didn’t call anyone.

However, since I called the hotline number associated with the service that already had my information and emergency contact, that service did call my emergency contact.

9) Even through everything, my parents still made the 2 1/2 hour drive down to come support me.

I remember the first time I told my mom that I wanted to die, she spanked me. She had said that she raised me better than that, that she raised me to value my life. So when the nurse handed me the phone, I was terrified.

After all the medical bills, the stress, the trouble that I had caused my parents…. I don’t know what I expected, but there wasn’t a hint of anger in my mom’s voice.

And my dad, who always gets cagey when I try to talk to him about my mental and physical health, made the drive as well. He wanted to stay with me while I was hospitalized.

In the end, I was only there for three hours, so my dad went home instead of driving the last hour to see me, but I will see him tomorrow when the family comes to see my concert.

10) Despite everything, I am loved, and you are too.

I’ve been contacted by three different mental health services today. I called my mom this morning because I said I would. My roommate came to pick me up from the hospital even though I hadn’t been a good friend to her in my depression. One of my close friends contacted me this morning to ask to see me.

Hospitalization sucks. It costs money, it costs time and energy, and it feels like it isn’t worth it. But after last night, I think I finally realize how much effort has been put into helping me keep living.

Despite feeling like I’m a burden, like I’ve never done anything good for anyone, like I’m not worth the worry… everyone still came to help me.

I’m not alone. And you’re not either. Even if you think you have no friends or family there for you, there will always be someone in your corner.

You are worth it. You are loved. Seeking help is the strongest and most powerful thing you can do.

You are not weak. You are resourceful and resilient. You will get through this. You will.

[facelessxchurch]

Oh no I know they already dropped him but I meant why they dropped him. The style of the comic book was very fnaf or maybe a better term would be “kiddie horror” it’s a style obviously meant for children (and possibly also to be done quickly) which despite having a primary audience of literal children I don’t think is what derek wants for the series.

Specially when compared to what appears in the grimoir.

Haha, ok so here is the thing. I put on my conspiracy theory tin foil head in a private chat and was like "imagine if Landy kicked PJ Holden bc he didn't like sharing the the spot light" bc Holden did get to be at some signings alongside Landy and sign stuff too.

But then I watched the Forbidden Planet TV interview and omg I think that theory is actually correct??? I even feel like this interview is what was the biggest reason for Holden to get gone. The interviewer was clearly far more interested in Holden than Landy and you could see how bitter Landy was about it, like, he wasn't hiding it at all.

Here is the link to the interview.

So here are my notes from that interview below the cut bc it got kinda long:

These were written before I got the ask, so I just wrote down stuff that got my attention in the order they showed up instead of just stuff relating to this ask.

Landy's cat is named Groomer. [Fitting]

The interviewer is more focused on Holden than Landy in the beginning.

Holden and Landy were following each other on Twitter but had barely spoken. It just happened that about the time Holden was open for more work, Landy got the OK for an SP comic. So Holden getting hired was a coincidence.

We have it confirmed that the SP comic only got the OK from HarperCollins bc the "Heartstopper" comic was successful and now every publisher wants a comics department. SP/Landy were chosen as their first graphic novel bc Landy already had comic experience writing for Marvel.

"Bad Magic" takes place in the middle of the gap between book 15 and 16. It's a 6-year gap, so that's 3 years after UtE.

Originally the plot of the comics was going to be intertwined with the books. He MIGHT still do that. But for now comic readers should be able to follow the plot of the comics without having to read the books.

Landy is certain the book readrs will read the comic bc "they are hooked".

The interviewer doesn't ask follow-up questions about what Landy just said. Instead moves to Holden and compliments his creature design then asked him how it was to handle pre-establed characters like Skul and Val.

Holden: everybody sees a different version of Skul in their heads since he hasn't really been physically represented apart from covers and tie in merch [aka contradicts himself]. The challenge was making him emote since visually that's harder than just writing it [unfortunately the video did not show Landy's face at that part]. Valkyrie is a harder character to get right apparently.

Holden got little notes for all the monster designs. Apparently, there were histories to each monster but they didn't really get into that. [surprising, I thought the designs were random tbh]

[this segment starts at 23:31] Landy was unprepared for the comic thus Holden didn't get the whole script at once. It's implied Landy was still writing chapters while Holden had already started drawing the pages. So on Landy's request he had to go back and edit previous pages to make "tiny alterations". At some point "they" told Holdens they needed an extra page in every chapter bc they needed the page turn to be on a certain page since they hadn't taken into account that every chapter break would be a page. Landy sent a panicked Email to HarperCollins to suggest putting in an extra page. At that point they were already halfway through. Fortunately they could use a 'moment' from each chapter and expand it over the corresponding chapter break page.

=> AKA the comic was badly planned.

Landy says he doesn't know how well his books sell (in this particular case BD) bc he will be disappointed if it doesn't meet his expectations. He doesn't even follow sport, named the example on refusing to watch a rugby match with Ireland's team bc he doesn't "do disappointment". He "hasn't got a clue how they are doing". [a lie so he doesn't have to disclose the sales are bad? or is he really that immature?]

He thinks the readers have embraced "Bad Magic".

Interviews says their (Holden and Landy) creative chemistry was good and the artworks and designs were brilliant, once again praising Holden more than Landy.

Holden seemed more excited about the comic. It was well visible behind him the entire time and in the end, he showed it off excitingly. Landy did not display such enthusiasm.

Landy was giving death glares every time Holden got attention instead of him. He seemed really unhappy here when Holden tried to include him in the conversation.

I guess Landy hopes rotating artists will prevent the artist(s) from outshining him. But I do worry it will cause him to choose an bad artist on purpose. I could see him tanking his own series for petty ego reasons, believing his writing alone is good enough to save the comics. Not how comics work. Also his writing is shit and gets worse with each new book, so there is that.

[thryth-gaming]

Inspiration Strikes

The majority of the inspiration for the Radio Station team playbook was a mix of Welcome to Nightvale and Killer Frequency. This covered the two categories of a radio personalities who were either freaking out over the dangers happening to their listeners (Killer Frequency) or who were alarmingly unconcerned with the weirdness they were reporting on (Welcome to Nightvale). Then, of course, add in a dash of ye olde WKRP in Cincinnati and you've got the Team playbook.

But honestly, the first time I thought about this type of story was way back and playing Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines and listening to Deb of the Night the in-game radio show which would cycle through certain advertisements and conversations dependent on which point in the plot you were at. And I wondered what the game would look like if she were the main character receiving the calls through the game. Also, some people have a theory that Deb herself is kindred.

Game play wise, the players are going to more often be answering calls and trying to give advice to callers about how to survive dangerous situations rather than facing them directly. That said, sometimes the dangers will invade the station itself or the hunters are going to go out to broadcast from on sight.

In retrospect, titling this "Inspiration Strikes" is a bit off, since I was bringing up an older thought rather than having a sudden epiphany, but eh. On a trivia bit, I was originally doing a team playbook called "Ghostcasters" along the lines of a youtube ghost hunting crew... but well, Monster Revelations already existed though I didn't know it at the time.

But, I wanted to keep the ally list I had come with... so I started the Radio Station. I went through a couple of thoughts on the team playbook. I initially just called it The Station because I figured a TV station would also work. And to be honest, a TV station still would work with the team playbook, I just settled on Radio Station for the flavor because "The Station" made things a bit too vague since that could also mean a police station or train station or so on.

I suppose I could have called it The Broadcast Station, but, eh, I like the idea of a Radio Station.

And now, let's get onto today's team build.

The Nightly Nymphs

The Nightly Nymphs are a collection of woman that do a broadcast every night. Their primary audience is the various towns surrounding a small mountain town but they broadcast on the internet as well, meaning they occasionally have a global reach. What people aren't aware of is that most if not all the staff of the Nightly Nymphs and their station are some sort of supernatural entity.

This is how Rhenei Nightflower seeks to perform her Task, which is to help people protect themselves from evil forces. She's good at the whole advice thing, but attracting listeners to make sure the people that needed her advice found her. She tracked down one of those young cult members she liked and found they were old now somehow. That helped a lot. Then she hired Gail, who initially wasn't that big a draw but after she died and was resurrected... while she's supernaturally charming now. After they expanded to an internet presence, they realized they needed an IT professional and fortunately Libin had a great-niece looking for a job. Which is how Alisha got there.

They're still looking for a true radio personality though. Libin's charm and Gail's supernatural appeal only go so far.

As a note, aside from Rhenei, all three of the others have died (whether they know it or not) and been resurrected by advice from The Bloom, usually in the form of a concoction of herbs harvested from the mountainside and alchemically processed.

Libin was killed by a giant mosquito and came back a vampire.

Gail was killed by a storm summoned by an angry yeti and came back s storm spirit.

Alisha was killed by an eldritch emanation leaking through an internet firewall. They don't know what she's become yet.

Style: Exuberance

Community

Scattered Townships: They broadcast from a mountain town to a small number of rural villages in the area, and a handful of global internet listeners.

Core Traits

Team Enemy: The Bitter Sun - A cult that seeks to sow hatred and chaos. They infiltrate religions and other social institutions, pushing them to be more exclusionary, forgetting core doctrines, and generally feeding into humanities worst impulses.

Team Ally: Pearl Aiza, an actor and witch. Knows how to shape a magic ritual into something entertaining and respectful. Good for blessings in a pinch.

Team Move: I'll Get You Through This

Team Assets

The Station: The team has all the facilities necessary to record and broadcast. The local community has collectively decided you’re who to call about weird stuff.

Signal Boosters: With cutting-edge gear, the station’s signal reaches through any interference.

Rhenei Nightflower - The Envoy

Look: A serious looking woman with grey blue skin. Her piercing eyes and long hair shift color with the seasons. She prefers dressing with high-healed boots, vests and button up shirts, and elaborate skirts, usually topped by a cloth sash tied off with a number of talismans.

Charm +0

Cool +2

Sharp +1

Tough -1

Weird +1

The Overseers

The Bloom

Values: Compassion, Safety

Concern: Alien Perspective

Tasks: Guide

Moves

Basic Weird Move: Illuminated

Moves: Servant of the Secret Fire, No One Listens to Zathras

Gears

Mysterious financial assets.

Defensive Charm (1-harm close magic 1-armour)

History

Libin was the first person that Rhenei met after being contacted by The Bloom and receiving her task. Which makes sense giving the woman was one of those that originally summoned her.

Rhenei and Alisha work efficiently together, but most people think they don't get along. This is likely because both realize neither needs the standard small talk and interaction and so they appear to an outsider as if there's enmity and a refusal to speak to each other. Also, Alisha is the only other person as skilled in talking people through dangerous situations.

Rhenei enjoys every minute she spends around Gail. The meteorlogist especially seems very invigorating to speak to. Also, she will keep talking and not bug Rhenei to keep up her part of the conversation.

Rhenei is a spirit of the night time forest who was originally given human shape by a small cult that brought her into that form. While she was appreciative of one or two of the younger members of the cult, the desires of the more established members were a bit distasteful and... they had a parting of ways. Rhenei has recently noticed that her attempts to protect her co-workers has had some unusual side-effects.

She's come to the conclusion that the advice she received for resurrecting each of the other three took the easy route of bringing them back not human. She's suddenly aware that she herself never saw this as a concern either until Alisha pointed out her changes. Rhenei has come to the conclusion that while The Bloom doesn't see humanity as a flaw to be corrected, it also doesn't value it highly. So if it is difficult to keep someone human and save their life... it will make them not human. She's started to consider the advice she's been told to pass on to her listeners. How many transformations has she been responsible for with her advice. Not so much around town close, or she'd have heard more... but since going to the internet...?

Libin Sabe - The Expert

Look: A woman with short hair that ends in ghostly blue tips. She has blood red eyes and prominent canine teeth. She's moves with the energy of an elder person who has recovered their lost youth all of a sudden.

Charm +1

Cool -1

Sharp +2

Tough +1

Weird +0

Moves

Basic Weird Move: Empathy

Moves: I've read about this sort of thing, Dark Past

Haven

A two story house on the side of the mountain, not far from the radio station.

Panic Room - Hidden sleeping room.

Protection Spells - Keep bad spirits away.

Luxurious - A lifetime of study and adventure paid out.

Gear

Juju Bag (1-harm magic far)

Silver Sword (2-harm hand messy silver)

Shotgun (3-harm close messy loud)

Journal of life-time memories.

Many nostalgic photographs.

History

Rhenei was initially summoned into this world by an eldritch group that Libin was part of.

Gail came to Libin for advice about her powers and curse. From that advice, Gail was able to create her current unnatural charisma.

Alisha helped her get a particular item in her haven: a particular statue that had belonged to her family in Libin's childhood. It was sculpted by her grandfather and sits in pride of place in her house.

Libin was on hand to see Rhenei enter this world as it was a sect she used to be part of that had cast the spell. She knows that Rhenei is an immortal nymph born out of the night. Years later, she took a job as a radio host after retiring from the monster-hunting life. To her surprise, she found the owner of the station was Rhenei. A near-death experience and alchemical potion later and now Libin is a vampire. Though she's determined her vampirism is a very manageable brand of it, able to live off pig's blood and the like purchased at the butcher's.

Gail Duran - The Monstrous

Look: A humanoid figure of lightning and ice. They dress in button-up shirts and a small, puffy vest. Their skin is the color of ashen snow.

Charm -1

Cool -1

Sharp +0

Tough +2

Weird +3

Breed

Storm-Blessed

Curse: Inimical (there's occasional flashes of ice and lightning near her that she struggles to control)

Natural Weapon: Frost (2-Harm close ice), Shock (2-harm close electricity)

Moves

Basic Weird Move: Electrokinesis

Moves: Unnatural Appeal, Immortal

Gear

.38 Revolver (2-harm close loud reload)

History

Rhenei is the reason Gail is now some sort of storm-elemental. The woman didn't seem concerned with this until recently.

The first time Gail met Alisha, the other woman freaked out a bit and tried to hit her with the frying pan in the break room. They have since laughed this off and become good friends.

Libin was on hand once when Gail lost complete control over her powers. The vampire helped calm her down before the resultant storm got too severe.

Gail was hired to the station as a meteorologist originally, though she only came into her own as a performer after the incident. See, there was a freak blizzard in the middle of summer, it happens but kind of odd. Something happened, the exact what isn't clear, but she went out to fix some gear and found herself struck by lightning. When she woke up, she was no longer human and Rhenei was making sure she was feeling all right.

Alisha Holmes - The Interface

Look: A young black woman with a taste for soft sweaters. She's started to develop a patch of green-grey coloration on the side of her torso, over her shoulders, and up the side of her neck.

Charm -1

Cool +2

Sharp +1

Tough +0

Weird +1

Integration

Upgrades: Speed Typing, Everything's Compatiable

Faults: Overconfidence

Origin: We Can Rebuild Them - Life was saved by an alchemical compound that elevated her skills to supernatural levels.

Moves

Basic Weird Move: Hacking

Move: Expert Troll, Virus Whisperer, Technomancer

Gears

Internal Computer (Integrated)

Tactical Armor (1-armour)

Plain Pickup

Mini Supercomputer

Recording Suite (Integrated)

Trendy Bladed Weapon (2-harm hand)

Muscle Augments (1-harm hand useful integrated)

All the Energy Drinks

History

Rhenei hired her when she was just normal, before her skills started becoming full on powers. Rhenei didn't seem concerned until Alisha started pointing it out and then seemed confused and then her eyes widening and speed-walking off.

Libin is Alisha's great-aunt, something she's only learned recently. She apparently floated Alisha's name to Rhenei as a potential IT specialist. Libin's clear youth is not as concerning to Alisha as she thinks it should be.

Gail and Alisha share an interest in bookbinding and they've started a side-project of restoring or re-binding old books as well as printing internet fiction like fanfics into physical, traditionally bound books. This has resulted in Alisha's first on-air positions, much to her stage-frighted dismay.

Gail had been downsized recently from her IT department, leaving it shortly in immense chaos, and needed a new job. After a few rounds of job interviews that went nowhere, a "cousin" reached out to her about a position at a remote radar station. Within a week of taking the job she'd almost died only to wake up to finding someone pouring a strange potion down her throat. Since then, her already great skills have just been absurd.

As Alisha has been killed by some attack on the radio only to be resurrected by Rhenei with advice from The Bloom, she is no longer human. But the change hasn't finished manifesting yet so it's not known what she is. Also, while conversation with Alisha clued her in on what was happening finally, Rhenei didn't think to actually tell Alisha, so she's still piecing it together.

Link to the new books' backerkit:

[radi0activesmile]

angel-dust-addict​:

Angel shrunk in on himself a little as Alastor approached, almost as though he expected to be hit. Finally, he gave up trying not to hurt himself and just shifted his arm enough to get it through the strap, biting down on his lip until he drew blood in an effort to keep silent. Though his primary eyes were squeezed closed with the pain of doing that, his other six eyes remained trained on Alastor. Once he had gotten that accomplished and the dress settled as it was supposed to be, he stood panting for a moment before slipping the bloodied skirt off.

It was at that point that he froze up. He was exhausted and shaking with pain and fatigue and anxiety. There was a small trickle of royal blue blood that pooled where he had bitten his lip and ran down to his chin. He didn’t even appear to notice, he just looked dizzy and slightly panicky.

As he cradled his injured arm against his chest, he just tried to breathe. Alastor wasn’t angry. He told Angel with a soft voice and an even tone that he wasn’t angry. That Angel had done nothing wrong. Alastor wasn’t angry. And he had brought Fat Nuggets back.

Carefully, unsteady and looking nearly ready to collapse, Angel crossed the short distance back to the bed. He all but crumpled onto it and stopped moving. He didn’t try to lay back down, just sat with his primary eyes closed, shaking.

He opened his eyes when he felt Nuggets crawl into his lap and nose at one of his hands. He scooped the little piglet up and cradled him against his fluffy chest, scratching under his chin. "Did ya miss yer mama? Mama missed you, too.”

Alastor’s smile tightens at the sight of the spider recoiling when he draws near-- and even more so when he chooses to maneuver his arm (that must be broken, or, at the very least, cracked, considering just how much pain he’s putting himself through just to slide it through a sleeve.) Alastor had every intention of helping him ease his arm over in a much less painful way once he had established that he had no desire to harm Angel for daring to be comfortable. It would seem; however, that Angel wasn’t willing to wait. Or, perhaps it’s because Alastor was lingering close by that he felt the need to shove his arm and get this over with... so he can get back into the bed he seems to think Alastor will throw him back  onto if he doesn’t move in the next few seconds.

He detests watching this, and yet, he can’t blame Angel for being so certain that he needs to do these things in order to prevent more pain from coming his way. While he doesn’t know a great deal about Alastor, he knows others who carry the same title: A title earned by crushing others underneath your heel on your way to the top. Angel was unaware of The Radio Demon before coming to the hotel, but he was all too aware of what the title of Overlord typically meant. 

Angel isn’t shrinking in on himself and keeping his smaller eyes glued to Alastor as he desperately scrambles to jam his arm through a sleeve because Alastor is The Radio Demon. Angel seems to be doing these things because he sees Alastor as someone similar to Valentino. Which... is considerably worse, at least to Alastor. 

Yet, logically, it makes all the sense in the world, and Alastor can hardly hold such thoughts against the spider. The spider who is now practically dragging himself back to his bed with the same look of exhaustion and misery that painted his eyes the night prior. Alastor folds his arms behind his back as he feels his claws yearning to grow out. Fortunately, he holds this stance often enough that no one would think it strange. “I was asked to tell you he was the picture of a perfect guest.” The deer says, his body unmoving. While he dislikes the idea of standing when Angel is sitting (it creates even more of a power imbalance) he hardly wants to sit at Angel’s bedside when the spider is still so very clearly uneasy with him so close.  

angel-dust-addict​:

Angel cringed. Not at anything Alastor had done this time, though. He took the offered hand with only the slightest bit of hesitance - just that same old nagging wariness in the back of his mind - and let Alastor lead him. “Don’t get yaself stabbed 'cause'a me. If it’s Charlie - or Vaggie - I probably oughta go get him. I don’t want 'em givin�� ya any trouble. 'Sides, if yer in here, somethin’s wrong. An’ I’d really ratha’ not have 'em knowin’ about dis. I can hide it. The stitches. That ain’t a problem. Wouldn’t be tha first time. ’M pretty good at it.

"If it’s Niffty,” he continued in a slightly less worried tone. “It ain’t gonna matta’. She don’t knock, first off. But she’s not gonna assume ya stabbed me or decided ta snack on me or some shit. An’ she won’t say shit ta anybody. Wouldn’t be tha first time she’s cleaned up blood in here, much as I try'n keep her out. It’s like tha lock don’t work if it’s her. I’ve just sorta gotten used to it.”

While Alastor registers the cringe, he doesn’t bat an eye at it. Like he told the spear-wielding moth when he first knocked on the hotel’s door, if he wanted to hurt someone, he had ample opportunity to do so. If he wanted to harm Angel, he had six hours where the arachnid was completely defenseless. He could have had his fellow sinner skinned, filleted, and leftovers stored in the meat locker behind the refrigerator (that no one aside from Niffty knows he has.) Angel knows this as well, yet instinct tells him to be wary of anyone who abruptly moves their hand in front of him... 

As he backsteps out of the lavatory, Alastor gives a soft snicker. There’s a fondness in his tone and in his eyes for the little darling of a maid. “I have a theory that our little darling can shift her fingers into the shapes of locks.” He muses. Either that or she squeezes through the bottom of the door. One way or another, the little maid has never let any type of door, fence, or cage stop her. “Something must be distracting her since she hasn’t arrived to collect the bedding.” He thinks aloud, his ears tuning backward in increments, as if searching for a particular frequency. “Would you like me to ask her for him?”

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part Nine

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Sam, Steve

Warnings: gun-related violence (this is the primary theme so please be cautious), language, reference to smut

Summary: With reader back to work in the Tower, new threats arise and new approaches are taken to her safety. Kind of a filler but also kind of important.

Author’s Note: The next part is gonna be a 0 to 100 chapter so please hold while I hammer that out. I usually try to add multiple scenes/days/events but this is just one situation the reader is caught in. It’ll be getting to the primary climax soon though so I’m thinking maybe 3-4 parts left? Unless there’s more drama I want to add later 😈 And as always, feel free to send me a coffee!

Series Masterlist

Tags: @amourmarvel @fangirlvoice @kennedywxlsh @devilswaldorf @what-the-hap-is-fuckning @alyispunk @fredweasleysbitchh @wearegroot @sunflowerbebe107 @prestigious-tea @brckenmemories @angelbabymed

The next few weeks were thankfully uneventful. You had ordered a bed for Steve to put in the living room, including a curtain so he could have a little privacy, especially when Sam woke up extra early to start making breakfast. Bucky kept the inflatable mattress on your floor, but spent every night with you in his arms instead. “It’s safer this way,” he’d say. It was his excuse just in case your dad ever showed up unannounced.

The one time your dad did show up unannounced, Steve and Sam were at your front door with their weapons drawn and Bucky was shirtless in your bedroom doorway with his own gun aimed at your father. Fortunately, none of them were trigger-happy and lowered their weapons when they realized who it was.

Your dad learned three things that day:

1. He needed to call ahead if he planned on stopping by.

2. You were in very good hands in the safety of your apartment.

3. He wasn’t a fan of seeing a shirtless Winter Soldier leaving your bedroom — or seeing a shirtless Falcon and Captain America in your living room, for that matter.

Regardless, you were never worried about your safety when you were home, or even when the boys let you go out and about with them flanking you on every side. Needless to say, you didn’t go out much.

But you were able to go back to work at the Tower, mainly because the boys hadn’t been able to properly train or attend any missions while you were holed up at home — and it looked like things were clearing up around you. Your dad said one of them would have to stay with you even if the other two went on missions and had fortunately let you choose who that one lonely man would be. Not that you’d ever let Bucky actually be lonely.

The media buzz over you had died pretty quickly, but there were still a few relentless reporters that would crowd around you when you left Stark Tower. You always parked under the building where none of them could get in, but that didn’t stop you from going out to get lunch instead of staying inside and having it delivered. The weather was getting warmer and you wanted to get out while you could.

One gloomy Thursday, your dad decided to join you, Bucky, Sam, and Steve when you went out for your lunch. There was a falafel place just down the street that you liked, so the five of you decided to make it a group date, of sorts. Bucky was nervous at first, but you assured him it would all be fine.

“If you get a little cozy, just blame it on staying close so no one else can,” you said, holding his jaw in your hands. “You’re just keeping me safe.”

You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead as you stood in the middle of your lab. You weren’t required to have protection while inside the Tower, but Bucky insisted on visiting when his training hours were over.

“I’ll always keep you safe,” he said softly. He pulled your hands from his cheeks and kissed your knuckles before tugging you out of the lab to meet the rest of your lunch crew at the elevators.

Now that everyone knew who you were, you were able to be more playful and casual around your dad. Things that would usually have earned you some questioning stares from your work friends instead led to laughs and high-fives. You could make jokes and digs without getting in the same kind of trouble as Sam or Bucky. Steve still had the most immunity.

That was one of those days. You and Steve poking fun at Tony and making playful jokes he was quick to quip back at. The five of you were alone in the elevator the whole trip down, probably because Tony had Friday set to not allow anyone else in when he was in the lift.

Everyone was all smiles and laughs until the elevator doors opened. You took about three steps before you were practically tackled to the ground, a loud bang followed by the sharp ding of metal on metal stunning you more than the pressure of a body pressing against yours. Before you could even comprehend what was happening, the plaster of the wall above you shattered and crumbled around you at the sound of another loud bang echoing in the Tower lobby. None of the debris actually hit you, probably because of the large, heavy body of your boyfriend curled over yours.

Since you were on your hands and knees, you turned just enough to see Bucky’s blue eyes blown wide as he looked down at you.

“Are you okay?” he asked frantically.

“I--I think so?” you replied, not entirely sure what you were supposed to be okay from. You hadn’t really processed what was happening, just that Bucky was completely covering you with his body. “Are you okay?”

He just nodded. “The bullet hit my arm, no damage.”

“The bullet?!” you half-screamed. “Is anyone hurt?” You pushed against his metal arm to see the rest of the lobby; everyone was crouched to the ground, and the sound of more bangs and dings of Tony’s suit getting hit told you why. Tony was just a couple feet from you, letting his Iron Man suit build around him, but started waving his hands at you, shouting “get her out of here!”

Bucky’s arms swooped under you and he swept you past the elevators and stairwell to a back room that only unlocked after Bucky scanned his hand in a hidden compartment. The door opened to a separate, smaller stairwell that you assume only led to the Avengers’ floors… 30 floors up.

“This way,” Bucky said, drawing your reluctant gaze from the towering steps to a hidden elevator behind the staircase. Thank god.

He quickly ushered you in and pressed the button for the private rooms. You’d never been above the common rooms, save for the one time you sat in Bucky’s room after surgery. Your eyes flicked to Bucky’s that were already trained on you looking for any injuries.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. His hands rested on your shoulders, his eyebrows furrowed as he scanned your face and body again and again.

You just nodded, still trying to process having literally been shot at. But the secret elevator was much faster than the main elevator because you arrived at Bucky’s floor seconds later. He grabbed your hand and led you to his room, keeping you close and constantly looking around even though only verified Avengers could access this floor.

“Your dad set up a whole plan in case something like this ever happened,” he explained. “We’re supposed to stay on this floor until one of them comes to get us. Chances are you’ll end up working from home again since you’re somehow safer there with us than here with everyone.”

He sounded annoyed, but you couldn’t blame him. You assumed you’d be safer in and around the Tower than in your apartment. Your apartment didn’t have all the gadgets and gizmos the Tower had. Sure, you had installed your own security system and now had constant video recording, but the Tower had Iron Man.

“Are you okay?” you asked again. Bucky looked up at you with his eyebrows drawn together, but nodded at your question. “Are… are dad, Steve, and Sam okay?”

It was harder for Bucky to answer that when he didn’t know. He silently pulled up the Tower video feed on his TV and found the main entrance. Tony already had the shooter face down on the ground with blasters aimed at him and an iron boot on his back; Steve and Sam were checking on bystanders. Knowing the rest of your little team was safe eased some of the tension in your body, but that just made it easier for you to realize you had nearly been shot.

“Thank you for saving me,” you said quietly. Bucky stepped closer to you, letting you wrap your arms around him as you forced back tears brought forward by the onslaught of fear that ran through you.

“I’ll always protect you, princess,” he said just as softly. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and just held you. It was just as important for him to hold you as it was for you to be held by him. While his embrace helped ground you and reminded you that you were okay, it reassured him that you were safe with him.

Bucky had grown so used to being the cause of people’s fear, not their source of comfort. You changed that.

You just stood there in each other’s arms for a while, needing the security to calm both of your nerves.

“Can we just… lie down?” you asked.

Bucky had never seen you this fragile before. He always saw you as his spunky little spitfire, so seeing you gradually crack and splinter as the seconds ticked by made his own heart break. Without a word, he led you over to his bed. He laid down first, letting you curl your legs over his abdomen and rest your head against his shoulder.

“I know you’re physically okay, but do you wanna talk about it?” Bucky asked softly.

You were quiet for a second, nervously playing with the hem of his t-shirt. It took a few minutes, but the gravity of what just happened ran over you like a freight engine and your mind wasn’t having a good time trying to get back on track.

“How many shots were fired?” you finally asked.

That’s not what he wanted you to ask.

“I counted five before we got out.”

The pause before your answer just made Bucky’s nerves even more frazzled. He wasn’t used to consoling anyone. That was Sam’s specialty, not his.

“Someone tried to shoot me five times,” you said solemnly. “Someone tried to… to kill me five times.”

“Hey, no,” Bucky hushed. “We’re not doing that. When I said I’ll always keep you safe, I meant it. I can’t lose my Build-A-Bear. Those things are expensive,” he teased.

You huffed a soft laugh before snuggling your head against his chest. With his right arm wrapped around you to trace his fingertips across your skin and his left hand hooked over your calves, it wasn’t long before you fell asleep. The stress of what appeared to be an attempted assassination didn’t sit lightly on your shoulders.

Bucky managed to stay awake, slowly and carefully grabbing his remote to find something to watch until he received word to let you go.

Nearly three hours later — after Steve, Sam, and Tony had spoken with the police and tried to get some info out of the shooter — all three came barreling into Bucky’s room, quickly silenced by the sight of you sleeping on Bucky. You had adjusted your position in your sleep, slipping your body between Bucky’s legs and resting your head on his abdomen. This left him to play with your hair since you were too low for him to continue to hold. He knew you’d have one hell of a time getting to sleep later that night and probably hold your messed up sleep schedule against him until you got back on track, but he wasn’t going to wake you up.

“What’s going on?” Tony asked, more curiously than accusingly.

“Uh, she seemed pretty, um, unsettled by the whole thing and just wanted me to, to hold her,” he explained quietly and slowly, attempting to avoid revealing anything.

Tony just nodded in understanding.

“When she wakes up, I want you to find me.”

The way he said it didn’t sound upset or threatening, but Bucky felt ice shoot up his spine at your dad wanting to sit down with him — and only him. Nonetheless, he nodded as everyone left the room.

When you woke up not long after, he made sure you were okay before leaving to “talk things over with the guys,” he said.

Tony was waiting for Bucky in one of the conference rooms. He didn’t have anything with him other than his phone, so Bucky figured he wasn’t in any trouble… but that just confused him more.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna fire you for… cuddling with my daughter,” Tony said with a cringe. “Take a seat, please.”

Bucky hesitantly sat across from Tony, clearly still worried about what was going on. Tony’s silence was unnerving.

“[Y/N] is going back to her place full time. I’m sure you already figured that out. You three musketeers are clearly better at keeping her safe than I am. And before I continue, I need to say that Sam’s a good guy — most of the time — and Steve’s… something, usually something good, even though he loves getting on my nerves. But today, you were the first line of defense. Don’t think I missed the sound of that first shot hitting you. If you had been on the other side of her, you’d be in medbay right now having a bullet fished out of your arm.”

Tony paused again. He spun his phone in his hands, clearly working up to something and unknowingly setting Bucky on high alert. He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Steve and Sam are going to stay with her at her place, of course, but I don’t want you to leave her side,” Tony finally continued. “If she goes into the kitchen for breakfast, you’re in the kitchen getting breakfast. If she goes to the bathroom, you’re right outside the door. That mattress stays right next to her bed. When she wants to order food, you send one of the other guys and stay with her. Bucky.” Tony paused once again. He leaned forward now just to make sure the severity of what he was about to say was fully understood. He didn’t want to say it, but he knew it was the right decision. “I’m trusting you with my daughter’s life. I don’t take this shit lightly and as much as I want to dislike you… you’re the person I trust the most right now.”

Bucky couldn’t describe the emotions running through his brain. Confidence? Joy? Maybe even fear? Sure, it was nice that his boss was giving him such a huge responsibility, but it was something entirely different to hear his girlfriend’s dad say that he trusted him. Wasn’t that part of why you weren’t telling Tony? Would this change things? Could you finally be open with your relationship?

“Thank you, Tony. That really means a lot. Uh, I-I won’t let you down,” Bucky managed to squeak out.

Tony just nodded before patting Bucky on the shoulder and leaving the room. Bucky sat alone in silence for a second to fully process everything. Was it ironic? Tony Stark was trusting the man who killed his parents to now protect his daughter. But wasn’t it already fucked up that Howard and Maria’s granddaughter was knowingly and willingly dating their killer?

Bucky had gone through a lot to come to terms with his past, but moments like this cast doubt on him again. But he couldn’t dwell on it. He had to find you, Sam, and Steve to get you home.

When he got back to his room, he found all three of you sitting on his bed and talking. You were still lying against the headboard with Steve sitting criss-cross applesauce and Sam lying on his stomach. You looked like a group of high schoolers at a sleepover.

“Hey,” he said softly. You smiled and made grabby-hands at him until he sat beside you.

“Slight change of plans.”

Everyone looked at him in confusion, Sam and Steve clearly not up to date on the team’s roles.

“I just sat down with Tony and, uh, I guess I’m basically your bodyguard now.”

“You already have been for a month now,” you said with a confused laugh.

“Well, yeah, but your dad said I’m not supposed to leave your side. Like, if you move to another room, I move with you.” Your eyes widened at this. It felt excessive, to say the least. You were basically already attached at the hip, but sometimes you just need a minute to be alone. “He said I’m the one he trusts most to protect you.”

“Come on, man, you could’ve just told me to go fuck myself,” Sam joked, earning a punch to the shoulder from Steve.

“Aw, you finally got parental approval,” you cooed, cupping his jaw in your hands.

“I don’t think the approval extends to me hitting it from the back until you pass out,” Bucky chuckled. Sam whistled lowly while Steve just shook his head in disappointment (approval?).

“Speaking of hitting it from the back, we should probably get back to my place before it’s too dark,” you said.

A light knock on your door drew everyone’s attention but before you could see who it was, you toppled over at the force of Bucky shoving your body behind his. You managed to catch yourself on his shoulders to lift yourself up, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck with your head perched on his shoulder. It was admittedly very couple-y, but your dad seemed unfazed in your doorway.

“Hey pops,” you chirped.

“I see I made a good decision,” he said, noting how quickly Bucky hid you from what could’ve been a potential threat. “By the way, Barnes is in charge of this operation now. Sorry Cap.” Steve just held his hands up in surrender. You figured he didn’t mind handing the reins over for once.

“We were just about to head out,” Bucky said. You’d have to make sure this newfound power didn’t go to his head. Which just meant you’d have to get him on his knees…

“I just wanted to give you this.” He held out what looked like the remote scanner cashiers had in checkout lanes. “I know [Y/N] has been getting a lot of fan mail so this will scan up to 20 items at a time for hazardous devices, poisonous toxins, and anything else that’s potentially harmful.”

You hadn’t gone through your mail in at least a week, but you’d already gotten the green light to have the next day — a Friday, thankfully — off after what happened, so you and the boys could hammer through everything and clear off your dining room table.

“Thanks, dad.”

You hopped off the bed and wrapped your dad in a much-needed hug. You both needed one after the stress of the day gradually wore off, but you could tell he needed one even more. You had Bucky to run to; Tony was worried about you. He held you tight and gently scratched right below your neck, just like he would do to get you to fall asleep as a baby. Some things never change.

“I love you,” you said quietly.

“I love you too, pumpkin,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. After another moment, you pulled apart and he went right back into business mode. “Okay, Rhodey and I are gonna follow you guys home in the suits just in case anything happens. Barnes, you’re in the backseat with [Y/N].”

With your dad standing behind you, he couldn’t see you mouth “backseat” to Bucky with a wink. The super soldier’s cheeks turned light pink, but so did Steve’s, which made it hard for you to keep from laughing as your dad continued discussing what changes would be made for your safety.

•

When you finally — safely — got home, you just wanted to take a bath and go to bed. You hadn’t even had supper, but you almost didn’t want to eat anything. If it hadn’t been for Bucky bringing you stuffed peppers courtesy of Sam, you probably wouldn’t have eaten. But he ate his dinner beside you on your bed, then joined you for a long, hot, bubbly bath.

Both of you knew it needed to be a slow night without saying a word. Bucky’s hands lazily ran over your skin before chasing the rinse of water with his lips. He wasn’t rushed or aggressive; he took his time and savored being with you. Even when you were lying in bed and desperately grabbing at his arms, back, shoulders, everything, his strokes were sensual and deliberate. His body acted as a fortress over yours, keeping you guarded from the rest of the world, even if it was just in your bedroom.

And as you fell asleep in his arms that night, he promised himself he would get to the bottom of your attack whether the law wanted him to or not.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Could you do the oxygen loss prompt with Cygate, but instead of the human being their S/O it’s their adopted human child? Sorry if that’s weird but I crave space dad content with every fiber of my being

There is nothing weird about space dad content, it's good and pure and the world needs more of it, thus I am happy to provide.

Here's links to other posts of this prompt!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: You're Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Cyclonus/Tailgate

Adopted Human Reader

·Tailgate was the primary driving force behind your adoption, but Cyclonus was in no way opposed, merely more reserved as you were welcomed into their lives through an unexpected but life-changing adoption. Though somewhat new to being a couple and quite new to parenthood, they've done an excellent job getting you set up for your shared life together as a family. You even have your own room right across from there's! Today though you're chilling with them in preparation for a movie night, sitting atop a table as snacks are decided on and the list of potential films is narrowed. Cyclonus is mostly content to let the two of you pick what you want, though he does try to encourage the entertainment selection to be more... educational and the snacks a modicum healthier.

·Your greatest struggle is choosing the final winner from your options left, until of course, the electricity begins to cut out and the three of you are left momentarily in the dark. This alone would have been nothing but an inconvenience, though the seismic shake that hits the ship afterwards is far more dangerous. Nothing but a blur of metal in the dark fills your vision as the tremor sends each of you tumbling. When you finally orient yourself and the world stops moving, you realize you're being cradled in a panicked minibot's arms, and a blue visor glowing in frenzy is above you. Tailgate is checking you over like a concerned mother hen, and you're so overwhelmed by his fussing it takes you a moment to realize that he's also being held, and that you're between two pairs of optics overflowing with care.

·Cyclonus gently puts an end to his mate's impromptu medical examination by pointing out the more immediate issue; something dangerous is undoubtedly inbound. Tailgate may not have the same level of experience, but he's been on enough ships to know what an anchoring feels like, and regardless of the enemy in question things are about to get unpleasant. In unison they both agree to get you somewhere safe. Gently as can be, Tailgate reassures you that everything will be okay while stroking a little hand down your back. He promises that much, and Cyclonus firmly echoes the sentiment.

·Quite aware of how tiny you are, particularly in regards to Cybertronian combat, you put up no resistance to their plan. So long as everyone gets out safe, you insist. In a well rehearsed battle strategy, Cyclonus stands just behind Tailgate, but he's hardly the only one who will be protecting you. Your other adoptive parent has you in his arms and, with his smaller frame, is set up to shield you quickly from the front while Cyclonus handles any potential assaults from behind with his solid back armor. It's a routine they established just to keep you safe. Right now it is helping you feel like you're in a kind of moving fortress, and to be fair with these two that comparison isn't far off. Unicron himself would have a hard time breaking through their collective front.

·Perhaps tempted by your metaphorical thoughts, the universe answers with a challenge in the form of an entire squadron of enemy combatants, though your guardians are quite prepared. Before the attacking aliens can even charge, the two of them are moving in a kind of wordless sync, one that an outsider might think was the result of peerless calm. You know better when Tailgate rolls to slip you into a well defended little cove though, as you catch what's in both of their optics; fear. Tucking down as small as you can, you watch them attack with a kind of rage that juxtaposes almost fantastically with the tender kindness they raise you with. Few would probably blame you for having a hard time believing the same Cyclonus cleaving an enemy in half right now also sings softly when you have trouble sleeping... The same could be said for Tailgate, who fusses over you every time he feels you may be too hot or cold but is now pummeling an alien's legs so his mate can finish them off. Knowing that it's all to protect you is somewhat awe inspiring.

·No sooner has the last enemy fallen then the two are back where they left you, though this time Tailgate isn't alone as he checks you over whilst they walk, with Cyclonus inserting a quick request for confirmation that you are indeed uninjured. Admittedly a little dizzy from the rush, you smile and assure them both you're unhurt. At that they continue on the way to the well defended medical bay. You are actually far more sluggish than you think you should be, but it's hard to care about that in the face of everything else, and you don't really have to worry with these two protecting you... How lucky you are, to have been adopted by such a loving pair of parents. Being quite the unusual couple just makes your little family more unique in your mind. At such happy thoughts you can't help but smile, though it's weak and visibly hindered by how groggy you are.

·Tailgate takes notice of that sleepiness first as you become less upright in his arms. Giving you a little bounce, he starts to walk faster as the requests regarding your condition start anew, his visor growing worried as he sees your tiny frame failing to perk up. Cyclonus follows in his worry, especially when you prove physically incapable of lifting yourself up completely. They know something must be terribly wrong. Uncertain why they're so upset, you try to reassure your parents that you're simply a little tired. The rush of the fight probably drained you more than expected, you explain. Hearing how breathless you are in the explanation only solidifies their fear that something is wrong. Not knowing what it could be, they make the difficult decision to forgo stealth for the sake of speed; you need to get to the medical bay.

·Rushing air flows past as they move at speeds impossible for humans, drawing your gaze upwards as Tailgate reassures you everything will be alright despite your total lack of concern. Though you can see the fear in his face, you still appreciate how brave he's being for your sake. Having parents who prioritize your health as well as your feelings is a dream come true. Cyclonus is mostly silent, his optics on the horizon, but you know he's also concerned to an incredible degree. It's obvious in his optics every time they glance down at you so full of worry. Despite his usually reserved exterior, the big bot loves you just as much as his mate, and you've more or less had him wrapped around your finger from day one. You can still recall how they would lovingly ensure your comfort every time you went to bed in your new home...

·Both mechs can see you're drifting off faster with every passing minute. Tailgate tries harder to keep you awake as he watches your eyelids grow heavier, but his efforts prove to be in vain despite how badly he wants you to be okay, and his spark twists with anxiety. Cyclonus is the same, as both have no real idea as to what is wrong, and thus no real way to help you. Doubts that plagued them from the day they considered making you their own child return to haunt them in full force. They loved you so much, but there was so much they just didn't understand about your species, and what if that made them unfit to care for you? Would another human have figured this out by now? Surely you wouldn't be in this situation if you weren't with them...

·Cyclonus takes matters into his own hands, rather literally, when he scoops up his tiny mate to run at his fullest speed. Tailgate barely notices the action in his increasing panic. He can feel you growing weaker in his arms, but why? Attempts to comm Ratchet or anyone who might have a clue as to what's going on prove fruitless, and the two parents are left to flounder in their fear, the worst possibilities barreling through their minds in unison. You feel bad that they seem so scared, but can't bring yourself to stay awake as they request, the grogginess pulling you down in your parent's arms as it has under less dire circumstances in the past. The desire to sleep is simply too great. Isn't it ironic, how these bots are usually the ones pushing for you to go to bed, and now they want you to stay up? It's enough to make you smile as warm blackness finally claims you...

·Tailgate is beside himself when you drift off, and Cyclonus isn't any better, his legs giving out as he cradles you both. It's only by happenstance that a team of bots comes by at that moment, doing emergency rounds to gather the crew and clear out hostiles, and stumbles upon the terrified parents. By the grace of good fortune Ratchet is among them, and the medic is able to quickly put together what's going on due to his intel. Between the bursts of begging from Tailgate and Cyclonus, he's able to just break through and inform them of the full situation; oxygen has been compromised due to the attack. Before they can ask further questions, he explains that you need medical attention, but the ship is still under threat. It's somewhat obvious even in their cloud of grief and fear what he is going to say next.

·To secure the Lost Light, and by extension you, they wordlessly agree to accompany the group to the medical bay... at which point they'll leave you there to join the defense. Being by your side will do no one any good if the ship is taken. It hurts more than anything ever has, but they turn their mutual rage and pain towards the threat. All the while you remain in the medical bay, being stabilized by the medical staff who provide the care and oxygen you need to recover, their incredible skills ensuring you'll make a full recovery in due time. It's a prognosis that gives your parents relief but no peace when the battle is won. Seeing you in such a state still hurts in ways they can't begin to process, and thus they're left to wait in silent pain for you to awaken, holding each other as Tailgate weeps openly and Cyclonus internally.

·When you do wake up, it's beneath your favorite blankets, which were tucked about you just how you liked. A gentle but very concerned flurry of activity welcomed you back to the living world, and before you knew it your parents were on either side of the medical slab you found yourself upon, their worry obvious in every word and every inch of their expressions. Confused, especially by the oxygen mask on your face, you ask what happened to you. Worry turns to guilt in an instant. Tailgate starts with an explanation about what you do remember, gently asking about your recollection of the moments leading up to where your memories end. Cyclonus takes over for his mate when it proves too much, laying out the full scope of the alien attack and the atmospheric failure which nearly killed you. The brush with death catches you quite off guard.

·Unable to hold back tears, Tailgate bursts out in an apology for their failure to protect you, particularly in regards to not even knowing what was hurting you at first. Cyclonus gently shushes him, but doesn't correct the sentiment. Instead, he shares it, expressing his understanding if you have any newfound reservations regarding their parenting. Such a thought is so unfounded it strikes you silent. Why would this hamper your relationship in any way? These two had saved you! Their lack of human anatomy had spared them, and by extension you, from meeting an untimely fate in the suffocating attack. Letting them know as much, you can't help but feel a pang of your own fear when they appear unconvinced. If they're the ones changing their minds-

·Both Tailgate and Cyclonus react in a unified rush when you let that thought slip; they will never leave you, both promise at once. Tailgate assures you he loves you far too much and Cyclonus promises no challenge could ever make him leave you. It's enough to make the three of you cry. Clearly there are still challenges for your unique family dynamic, but none of you will ever give up. The challenges will just have to be faced together. Before you can thank them for everything they did your parents start fussing over you once again, encouraging you to rest while they adjust the room to your liking and promise that whatever food or entertainment you want will be there when you wake up.

[legionofpotatoes]

I love your art, it is very detailed in a neat way. Was wondering how you got started making it as a source of income? How did you get your first paid work, I'd love some advice on how to get started, if that's ok

Thank you. Of course it's okay, although I doubt I have enough work experience in art to really delve into this. I only went full freelance this year, and had been juggling art as a side hobby until then. If you're still interested in my somewhat narrow perspective, and are okay with my long-winded rambles, I'll give it a shot:

So to answer your question fully, I'll describe how I started and move into personal advice and learnings later on. As a disclaimer, I am a white cishet dude in my late twenties with a moderate cocktail of mental illnesses, but overall I can pass for a functioning adult so a lot I have to say may come laced with privilege I cannot fully identify.

So uhh I began drawing in around 2012? I think? Maybe halfway through 2011? And I mostly made fanart for things I enjoyed and tried to branch out in communities that felt nourishing to my style and interests (I caught a bug for alt posters and enjoyed mainstream movies so I spent a long time on posterspy early on). There were a handful of opportunities that came from there but I could only accept a couple because of primary workplace commitments. Still, it showed that networking in a focused community was definitely a good place to start; I myself have huge trouble committing to social networks and really staying socially active, but I knew it was an essential ingredient in succeeding so I tried to make myself be involved in challenges and art support trains etc. as much as I could.

In parallel to all that I also ran a few third party online stores (redbubble, teepublic) for disposable income and would sometimes, if rarely, hit around $100-150 a month from those sources combined. It is a sort of thing that requires helper accounts on other social media sites to promote it on, because the stores themselves have a huge volume of content that translates into low organic discoverability. Obviously it was never gonna be the way towards financial independence through art, and with community projects being few and far between, I opened private commissions in around uhhh 2017 I think, focusing on offering a few styles I knew I could do well, and sometimes operating in individual fandoms (it was mostly a bioware thing to be frank). But I had to close them back down after a year or so, again because of work-life conflict and how badly it was burning me out. The reason I kept trying to monetize this hobby is because I honestly hated what I did for my main job and wanted to see a way out in some shape or form in the future.

And then in 2020 I had to quit my main job altogether because of *gestures at pandemic* and deal with a mental breakdown from all the wonderful things it did to us and me specifically. I took a short break and decided to give art a shot full-time, and that was around May this year. I was planning on opening up commissions again (and I still am), but a few sudden opportunities that fell in my lap moved that timetable down and now I'm grateful to even be doing something I am getting adequately paid for.

So, with that somewhat limited perspective, here's what I've learned that I'd tell myself if I was just starting out:

1. Being a fan of something can be a shortcut towards effective networking kickoffs. Which are important evidently. If you love something and enjoy making content for it, join communities, settle into a combination of social media websites that feel right for those interests + your body of work + your inner rhythm, and try to play to content discovery as much as your mental health allows you to. Like I said, I know that I myself am incredibly bad at self-motivating to talk to people, so I found that synergizing common interests into fanart - which I enjoyed making anyway - could be a way to give myself a gentle nudge forward and build those bridges leading to community activities, which then net experience and coverage. Sometimes even freelance projects from official avenues. Again; picking the right spaces for what you're after is key. Companies roam twitter, concept art recruiters scour artstation or linkedin etc, instagram can land you private commissions and collab opportunities, so on and so forth. Find your niche and try to kick up dust. However...

2. I do not believe that any social profile can replace a good portfolio. The thing that made an immediate difference to me this year was building a coherent, simple website with my best work front and center and a contact form on top. Every single opportunity I got came from that form (maybe via twitter or instagram initially, but always sealing the decision after going through the website), so I firmly believe that showcasing your skills and portfolio in a visually arresting and user-friendly way is a big priority. I had some reservations about tackling that task but fortunately I had help from a savvy life partner and we slapped it together via wordpress in less than a day. Twitter/whatever social media is prevalent in your target groups is definitely important to get the right eyes on your shit, yes, but those eyes will then look for a second stop where your work and rates are more clear and concise. Simplicity is key imo, I cannot overstate this. So make a cute, simple portfolio!

3. Your skills and rates will grow and change as you do. Let them. Over the years I built several lasting professional relationships from my obsession over mass effect and kept getting opportunities both from bioware and their partner companies, some small and some a bit bigger. A one-off job earlier this year opened an unexpected door to another much larger commitment, and then the work I did there brought some attention from small businesses looking for commercial commissions. These were all incredibly different projects in terms of scope and budget, and I've been tackling them all on a case-by-case basis and slowly coming into my own irt my needs, rates, and SOW thresholds. It is still a work in progress (and a LOT of literal work as well), and very much a thing I struggle with in publicly marketing, which is why I felt a tad underqualified to answer your question in the first place (obviously I did not let that stop me). But what it means for me now is that I am rapidly developing into whatever my "version" of a functioning freelance artist is, and when the conditions for that guy are met, I need to be able to confidently plant myself and operate from that space despite past precedents. Do not let anyone bully you into downpricing what you yourself perceive as legitimate products of personal growth and development. Speaking of which...

4. The shitty challenge of turning envy into inspiration, and paddling outside your comfort zones in full riot gear. it is hard, but realizing that being a miserable, self-hating artist in my early days got me nothing but more misery back was the first real step I took and what truly blew the hinges off. I was just not pleasant to be around, I would badmouth my work all the time, and it all somehow made sense in my broken mind because the validation I sought was purely external and the way I sought it was through eliciting sympathy via self-victimization (even when I made something objectively nice). It all led fucking nowhere. Except perhaps to my own narcissism that I one day managed to identify and start managing. So I started looking at things that made me seethe with envy and calmly deconstruct and figure out their inner workings instead, do studies, and find nuggets of inspiration or discover new ways to approach rendering or building up specific elements. It was an application of analytical diligence to what I wanted to be a purely emotional, esoteric workflow, but that I deep down knew wasn't. Art is a discipline and a skill, and maybe it isn't a straight line, but you gotta find some line to thread nevertheless. Being self-hating was almost an identity I had to break out of, and despite it still being like, 4-5% there? I realize its cause and effect on me, my work, and those around me, so it is with a conscious choice that I gently set it aside when I work and especially when I learn. It won't always stay quiet, but the effort is the difference. Your doors towards accepting true growth and venturing into uncharted territories, art styles, and networking will really open from there. But there's a huge caveat...

5. Toolsets, accessibility, privilege, and all the good things that enable artistic expression and profitability are not given equal to all. you might do all the mental work I mentioned to be ready to rock and roll and learn and draw your way out of anything, but digital art is a fucking money pit that asks almost too much at times. I don't got a good case study here but identifying and ensuring accessibility to the tools you need to do your best work is, like, super important. The ergonomics can improve as you make money and settle into the job, but the basics have to be made available to you. And some of that might not even be under your direct control. That can be anything from pen tablets to software subscriptions to opportunities in hiring sullied by sexism or what have you. You gotta navigate all that through careful networking and money/time management. I don't do a good job of devoting specific slices of time to work/study, and my primary clutch is iPad software which went from a good deal to a nightmare scenario over the years. So all I can say here is do what I didn't; network, invest in a PC/tablet, and pick a software you'll learn that won't burn a hole in your pocket.

6. Be nice to work with? This one is hard to articulate and has landed my own ass in hot water in my early years because of how socially inept I am, but nothing is more worthwhile than being.. like. a good person to work with. That can be anything like meeting deadlines, or sometimes missing them but eloquently articulating why, being generous in early stages, being communicable and not too wordy in your emails, having a good grasp on abstract artistic concepts and how to describe them in simple terms, having a clear, laid out framework of your working rates in commercial and non-commercial projects and sticking to those guns with grace, understanding when you need to say no and saying it well, the works. Just being nice. Sometimes that might mean going headstrong with something you believe in, or simmering down and sucking up to the big man, all relative and adaptive. Part and parcel of the service provision dance that we all have to do in order to make bank. Know your lines here, obviously, and don't like. work for nazis. or uh.. *shudders* exposure. but be nice and empathetic and communicable and word will travel eventually. Skill may be in abundance these days, but good people are most certainly not, and capitalism has a way of bubbling up scarcity. Grim, but uh, them's the breaks.

I know I'm ultimately telling you to like. Have a body of work, make a portfolio, grow, and network. But that's really how I see it for now. And being nice can be a cherry on top that sets you apart, along with the inherent irreplaceable voice of your artwork. I think I rambled on enough, but if there is something specific you need my help with, even if you want to come off anon and talk in private, please feel free.

[phoebehalliwell]

So I figured you might be a good person to ask bc you've done multiple tarot card edits and seem to at least know their meanings, but do you have any resources on learning more about tarot cards/spreads but like from a writer's perspective? (Tbh, the cards themselves kinda freak me out a bit but I want!! To reference!! Them!! in fics!!)

of course!! so if you want the quick and easy you can go to biddy tarot they offer some really quick and easy overviews of all the cards in a very convenient format but if you want a bit more in depth there are a couple ways to do that

so, quick overview of a tarot deck: it's split into to sections, the major and minor arcana. the major arcana are the famous ones with names: the hanged man, judgement, the hierophant, the star, the tower, temperance, the wheel of fortune. there are 22 major arcana cards, going from 0 - the fool, to 21 - the world. then there’s the minor arcana, which are, in essence, playing cards. there are four suits, and then each suit runs ace two three four five six seven eight nine ten and then can get a little fergalicious with the face cards but in a standard deck so page knight queen king. as for the suits themselves, there are divided by the four elements.

cups is the water suit: it primarily focuses on emotions, creativity, and belief. in this suit you’ll find cards that signify wallowing (five of cups), love (two of cups), imagination (knight of cups), illusion (seven of cups), so on and so forth. so, in general, is the block your character is facing comes from the heart, cups can be a good suit to so two

swords is the air suit and, no hate, in my opinion, is the shitty suit. well, not the shitty suit, but the most difficult one. a lot of swords cards (two, three, four (in my opinion), five, not so much six but kinda, definitely seven, eight, nine, and ten) are, well, tricky. it’s a challenge. air is the element of communication, intellect, patterns of the mind. a lot of swords cards deal with mental processes. so, for example, eight of swords: imprisonment. the standard card depicts a woman surrounded by eight swords, her hands bound and her eyes blindfolded. she is defeated. ish. her feet are not tied. she could choose to walk away. but she is too scared to. she would rather but accept her imprisonment than dare to wander past this restraint. it’s more about her point of view on the matter than the physical situation, yeah?

if we’re talking physical tho, we’re talking pentacles, which is the earth suit. physical, financial, sensual, almost anything you can hold in your hands. water and air are loose flowing concepts, everchanging, earth is concrete. pentacles will usually deal in things such as money or work, so think of new career endeavors (ace of pentacles), learning new skills (eight of pentacles), hoarding/saving (four of pentacles) or giving/donating (six of pentacles)

the final suit would be wands, the fire suit, which primary concerns actions and passions. in general, this concerns your battle plans. ace of pentacles is you being presented with a new opportunity, ace of wands is you being struck by a new opportunity. while some of the cards in the this suit can be a bit slower (two of wands representing planning, nine of wands representing resilience), in general, this cards are more seize the moment types, or times that will not last, such as revelry (four of wands), infighting (five of wands), or onslaught (seven of wands). they’re all moments that burn hot and bright when you’re in them, but are consistently unsustainable.

but beyond that if you really want to know more i'd honestly recommend getting your own tarot deck bc a) it's fun and b) it's a cool party trick but c) honestly just like drawing a card a day not so much a "what's going to happen today" but rather "what do i need to do today" or "what do i need to learn today" can be a great way to get familiar with a deck i would highly highly highly recommend steering clear of minimalist decks for your first deck just because the more detailed the drawing is the easier it is to infer what the card is talking about so like for example if you're looking at just like three cups you're like um okay. but if you're looking at three babes in revelry toasting with their cups you're like um okay!!! you know?

which segues into my final piece of advice here if you think you’ve narrowed it down to which card you want to use go into google images of whatever and type in “three of swords” and see what the cards look like in different decks (this can also be a very helpful writers’ tool bc it gives you so great imagery to tap back into later. and, as previously mentioned, the visuals help you understand the meaning. like.

hmm. i’m seeing a bunch of people getting stabbed a whole bunch laying defeat on the ground. so. um. is that good?

so yeah 💕💞💕💞💕💞 if you have any more questions feel free to shoot me an ask!

[shadowmayura]

For the love of Adrichat...

Adrichat is great. Adrichat is one of the best things to ever cross my dash.

I’m here to tell you though that comparatively, Adrichat is broke.

You know what’s woke? Gabemoth.

That’s right, you heard me correctly.

It starts as such: Let’s say that Gabriel and Nathalie put on their big boy brains and decide to give Gabriel another alibi. Gabriel temporarily gives the butterfly miraculous to Nathalie, and she akumatizes him in public.

Now we all know how Gabriel loves his pet names. As he accepts the akuma, he nearly says, “Yes, my dear Nathalie,” but obviously that would give away her identity and ruin the whole plan.

What comes out instead is, “Yes, my dear... Hawkmoth.”

People latch on to this, of course, because Gabriel Agreste is an international celebrity, and he seems to have just professed his love for Paris’s most notorious superterrorist. Soon, the hottest news is that Gabriel is Hawkmoth’s new boyfriend. When questioned about it, Gabriel aggressively denies it, which clearly doesn’t help the situation.

All the Hawkyura shippers in Paris (a surprising number) cry.

And so it begins.

Shipping wars break out. Some people latch onto Gabemoth instantly, drawn in by the forbidden danger of it. This obviously enrages the city’s Hawkyura fans in addition to the Gabrilie shippers and the rare Gabenath shippers who picked up on the tension between the famous designer and his ever-present-very-hot assistant.

It would be a perfect opportunity for akumas, but Gabriel is beginning to feel like the butterfly miraculous has done quite enough, thank you very much.

In fact, these days, Gabriel spends most of his day with every single electronic device he owns (8 if you count the smart fridge, and he does), creating fake online accounts to combat the growing popularity of Gabemoth. It goes something like this:

not-gabriel-agreste: Gabriel Agreste can't be Hawkmoth's boyfriend! What about all those moments with Mayura? Hawkmoth may be evil, but he’s not a cheater.

paris_user_420: we see you, mayura 👀

Of course, all of this is super stressful for Adrien, who would very much love a stepparent, but preferably not a psychotic magical terrorist (little does he know). Being a Gabenath shipper himself, this is clearly a disappointment as Nathalie is way nicer than Hawkmoth (little does he know).

His dad seems happy though, if not a little stressed about the publicity, so Adrien’s primary concern is Nathalie. He tries to break the news gently.

“Nathalie, I’m so sorry... But I think my Father loves Hawkmoth.”

“Oh!” she exclaims, trying not to laugh “Oh- Oh...” She puts on a sad face. She is bad at acting, but Adrien is oblivious.

“I know this must be hard,” he says. He stops and thinks very seriously. “I don’t want you to be sad. Do you think you might be interested in Mayura?”

She chokes on her coffee and sputters, “I don’t... swing that way,” grabbing any excuse to not be paired up with her alter ego as Gabriel has.

Adrien knows this isn’t entirely true because he saw how Nathalie looked at Penny Rolling that one time, but he figures she’s just upset and he should let her be.

In reality, Nathalie is enjoying this quite a bit. Gabriel complains to her about all the fanart and fanfic, of course, and to her good fortune, he shows it to her as he rants. She tries to keep a straight face and not visibly salivate.

“I don’t know why anyone would draw that, sir. It’s truly disturbing.” When he turns away from his workstation to rant some more, she quickly sends it to herself. On her own device, she likes it, favorites it, and adds it as her wallpaper.

She hopes that’s what Gabriel looks like under his-

So Nathalie is having a good time. But Adrien is Very Stressed™. As a hero of Paris, he really can’t let his father date a supervillain. On the other hand, if Gabriel is finally finding happiness, he can’t break his dad’s heart! Therefore, he hatches plan Reform Hawkmoth.

He begs Ladybug as Chat for them to stop fighting Hawkmoth and try to bring him to the side of good instead. Ladybug is firmly against this until he takes a risk, bats his eyes, and asks, “Please? For Adrien’s sake?” Suddenly, Ladybug is very on board with this plan.

Cue Hawkmoth being very confused and distressed by the heroes shouting at him through his next akuma to change his ways. “For your boyfriend’s sake! For the sake of his son!” He screams, regretting all of this and wanting it to be over.

He gives up the miraculous within a week, just to wash his hands of Gabemoth.

This headcanon brought to you courtesy of the Gabenath Book and Art Club discord server. Full credit to our wonderful contributors: @tiger-manya, @starry-sky12, @novatheastropirate, and @owlzerness.

[leonineus]

The Rise & Grind Coffee Shop AU, Part 2

Another little nugget of madness in this AU. Ended up rewriting this multiple times, because for some reason tumblr’s post editor thought it was cute to completely discard the entire open draft if I maximised the window… which happened twice before I gave up and started using Google Drive instead.

---

It’s probably just the nature of writing memoirs, such as they are, but I’m finding a lot of hindsight perspective in these.

Some things however remain unexplainable. Such as why in the name of sanity I ended up macing Nightwing.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me explain.

It was a stressful day in Rise & Grind. The early morning stream of customers didn’t abate until after midday (or whatever counts as midday in Gotham). As a result, I and my two subordinate staff members were all very hungry and worn out by the time a lull happened about 1pm.

We’d just ducked down behind the counter to chug a cup of coffee each and scarf a few pastries from the display, when the doorbell jingled and I had to stand up and greet my new customers.

To my dismay, it was Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy.

Fortunately their intentions for visiting were largely benign; Harley wanted to meet the person who’d tased “Mistah J” while Ivy was just curious about the new coffee shop.

After fielding the cold and blunt interrogation about whether the plant-based ingredients in my wares were organic and pouring a coffee for Harley containing more sugar than I was entirely sure was healthy for her, I finally got them both settled into a window booth and retreated to the backroom for a less easy to disturb break.

Sadly, this was also not to be. The next visitors to my humble establishment were Red Robin (who greeted me cheerfully when one of my staff summoned me from the backroom before ordering his customary caramel latte) and a new member of the Batfamily I’d not met before, Nightwing.

Nightwing ordered a black coffee which I had to veto him emptying an energy drink into (must remember to ask the next Batkid I see to ask Batman to check into his diet, that’s probably even less healthy than all the sugar in what I gave to Harley), which then ratcheted my stress level up a few more notches at the glower he shot at me. He then raised it even further by noticing Harley and Ivy, now talking quietly and minding their own business.

I told him to mind my rules and not start trouble, which he ignored.

Red Robin backed me up, which he ignored.

He approached the booth. I came out from behind the counter and stepped in between him and them, telling him that he would have to leave if he could not behave.

It’s at this point that I had what I can only describe as a “Joker relapse”. One second Nightwing was reaching out towards me to shove me aside, and the next he was on the ground, hands over his face and cursing like a sailor. I now had a pepper spray can in hand, which I lack any memory of drawing, and Red Robin had had to put his latte down and hang onto the counter for support because he was bent double from laughing so hard.

In the aftermath of this, I’m not proud to say I kind of had a breakdown. Not a nervous one, strangely; a bravado one.

Red Robin had to call Batman down to rein Nightwing in from doing Joker’s job for him once he could see again, and I received a harsh scolding from Gotham’s primary protector for siding with two villains against one of his team.

I think that was the moment I kind of cracked, and while I know that the ensuing lecture I gave Batman made it onto YouTube, I haven’t yet mustered the courage to watch it. I told him straight up that I had warned Nightwing to adhere to the rules of my coffee shop, and he had paid the price for not doing so. I told him that I thought it was a little rich for him to be scolding me for enforcing my rules, that even two hardened criminals (in his words) had been able to follow diligently.

He’s a hard man to read; I’m not sure whether he was amused or taken aback by all of that, and he simply gathered the grinning Red Robin and seething Nightwing and left.

Pro of all of this: My coffee shop’s now even more renowned.

Con: It’s now renowned among the villainous side of Gotham as an enforced neutral zone, and I get more villainous customers than I either expected or wanted.

I’m not even kidding about that latter point. Two-Face showed up two days later and asked for a croissant with barbeque sauce, which I didn’t question but still had to send one of my staff up into my flat in order to find the latter. The day after that, Harley and Ivy dragged Catwoman into my shop, and she tried to pay for her meal with a large diamond I was quite sure had been stolen from a jeweller’s the day before, and which I ended up pocketing to give to the next available Batkid I saw. The day after that, I had Nightwing (still with slightly bloodshot eyes behind his mask) dragged in by Batgirl and forced to apologise for causing trouble in my shop. I made him a coffee as my own apology for macing him, and I’d like to think we buried that hatchet somewhere other than my own head.

Even Batman comes by from time to time, though rather than take a table like a normal person he likes to lurk in the shadowy corner by the fireplace and simply Observe things. I don’t like that I or my staff got used to that in enough of a hurry to forget he was there, especially when it led to me nearly having a heart attack when I was walking past from taking an order and had “Can I have a cup of tea, please?” growled into my ear.

Just Gotham being Gotham, I guess.

---

Wrote this immediately after finishing the first one, but scheduling it for the next day so I’m not spamming. Don’t use tumblr enough to be sure on the etiquette.

Still got a few more I can think of, but right now my bed calls.

[39yuki]

apricity | kbk. (f)

↣ pairing: bakugou katsuki x (f)reader

↣ genre: soulmate au, angst, fluff

↣ word count: 13.4k

↣ warnings: language, grief, death of a family member

↣ song rec:  satellite - ha:tfelt (very cute, makes my heart do things)

↣ notes:  i posted this on my ao3 and quotev (a while ago), but i suddenly felt like posting here too :3  pls enjoy

↣ summary;  a story of two lovers bound together by the universe but brought together by chance on one frigid, fateful day.

---

You have all but a few memories of your parents.

In the farthest reaches of your mind, you can just barely grasp onto an echo of when you were very young. You can see both of your parents smiling at each other, love so evident in their eyes that you can feel it from where you sat, watching them. They looked like they were a match made in heaven, which was all too true, as they were soulmates.

Everyone has a soulmate, but only so many people are fortunate enough to meet their other half. Those who have been blessed enough to cross paths with their divinely-given partner describe the first encounter as a sudden stillness, then the sound of bells chiming somewhere off in some direction, with which you cannot hope to pinpoint. After that, there is a rush of emotions that hit you like a freight train and swallow you whole. Once the stillness comes to an end and the world finally resumes, you're both left with a mark that is permanently etched into the skin as a symbol of the heavenly event that had taken place. This mark is unique to each pair of soulmates.

You can remember the shape of your parent's mark. It was uncomplicated and lovely, which, by no coincidence, were the perfect words to describe the relationship of your parents. Black ink nestled itself snugly onto the inside of their left index fingers, forming a small spiral design.

You vividly remember the strong arms of your parents wrapping around your young cherubic body. They were hugging you, as they were about to depart for a mission that would take a few days. The one part of their job as professional heroes they seemed to dislike most was leaving you behind when their work demanded that it take precedence over their child. The hug lasted for several moments, and throughout, they whispered soft, little nothings into your ear to help calm your emotions. You were upset that they would away for so long. When they released you from their hold, your father grasped your shoulders, and looked into your eyes, promising to be back as soon as possible.

Unbeknownst to you, that would be the last time you would ever see your parents again.

The last memory you have regarding your parents is the devastation that followed at the announcement of their death. You remember the cold, icy fingers of sorrow climbing their way up to your body, starting at your toes and slowly wrapping around your entire body. This feeling sat with you for a long time, and you so dearly wished for it to disappear. Eventually, it did, and in its place was the dull, numb feeling of utter loneliness, and you weren't sure which was worse.

---

You quickly learn that it's better to keep people at a distance. To never get too close and to never share too much. To reveal all the little bits of yourself to someone means to submit yourself to the possibility of being left behind, and to the anguish that will inevitably follow. So, you draw a line in the sand. On one end is you and all the little things that make up the person you are; on the other end is everyone else. Neither side should dare cross that line, lest the repercussions that may follow.

Primary and middle school pass you as mundane and quiet years—just as you like it. When presented with following in your parent's steps and becoming a hero, or becoming a faceless, ordinary person with the rest of society like the cautious and worrisome parts of you desire, you instead come to a compromise; you become part of the support hero programme. The following months pass peacefully, and you spend the hours you're not inside a classroom, working away at the various projects you have lying around in your U.A. provided workshop.

No one crosses your line, and you don't pass over your fictitious border. You're known by your peers as sweet and polite but strangely reserved—just as you like it.

When the temperature starts to dip below zero degrees, and the wind begins to nip at your cheeks, you can't help but feel miffed. You dislike feeling cold; the gelid air stiffens your fingers and disrupts your workflow, while also reminding you too much of the cold clench of destitute loneliness that you were much too familiar with.

You long for warmth again.

 ---

Bakugou Katsuki fucking hates winter.

The freezing air fucks with his heat-dependent quirk, and now he needs to make changes to his hero costume. After he spent all that time before he had started at U.A. designing it, he now had to have someone come in and mess with it. In the event that they screw with his suit and make him look ridiculous, he'd have to kick that moron's ass, which he didn't have the time to be doing. And on top of it all, he was lost.

"Shit!" He crumpled the small piece of paper in his fist. His dumb-ass teacher didn't give him any directions, and this dumb-ass school was unnecessarily large, and it all felt like a giant waste of time.

Still fuming, he unclenched his fist and rolled out the now wrinkled Post-it. Bakugou roamed the halls like a fiery, human-sized ball of rage for another 10 minutes, in search of the workshop belonging to the damn nerd that was supposed to screw with his costume. Upon finally spotting the door placard that held the same combinations of numbers and letters to the ones on his sticky note, he stomped over to it. With all the pent up frustrations he had acquired on the journey here, he threw open the overly large door.

"Why the fuck is this place so damn hard to find!?"

The once still and serene aura of your peaceful shop came to a screeching halt as the door to the room was slammed open, coming to a frighteningly loud crash against its side jam, followed by a spine-chilling howl of expletives. In your fright, you dropped the wrench you had been working with, and it clattered to the ground in a loud clang that reverberated around the room. Quickly moving to face the angry intruder, your gaze fell onto that of fuming, ruby-red eyes, and the world around you came to a screeching halt.

Time had ceased to exist, and the air became still. It was now quiet—eerily quiet. Everything becomes a little hazier, a little gentler, a little warmer all at once. Before you stood a boy who, past all the anger and frustration etched onto his features, was very handsome. His eyes a reddish colour that you had never really seen before, but quickly grew to admire; his nose so cutely pointed upwards, and soft cherub cheeks that were a direct juxtaposition of the rest of his body, which was large and robust.

Far away in a direction you know not of, there is this incessant chiming—they're bells! You assume that he's hearing them, too, and you don't fail to notice all the irritation and tension rapidly fall from his face and body, and all you're left with is a tenderness in his eyes and the tiny, soft curve of his lips into a smile that was so small, you would have missed it if you had not been looking so intently at every part of him. It makes your heart twist and jump in a wild and brazen fashion, and you feel your breath quickly leaving your body. It dawns upon you that he must be noticing several things about you as well, and that doesn't fail to fill you up to the brim with a warm, tingling sensation.

In the corner of your eyes, you notice black ink start to crawl up your skin, settling into a simple image that sits just nicely into the juncture of your right wrist and forearm. You see him looking at his own right arm, presumably left with a mark identical to your own, and that's when you fully comprehend the circumstances of the situation. Time races to catch back up with the two of you again, and suddenly the air around you retakes its natural chilly temperature.

"You..," he lifts a finger in your direction, looking as stunned and bewildered as you currently felt, "you're my soulmate!"

All too quickly, something heavy and uncomfortable settles in the pit of your stomach at his words. You realize that the precious line you'd drawn in the sand is currently being trampled all over by this boy, and you'd only just met. Your throat feels dry, and already you feel way too exposed.

"...I can't," you just managed to croak out beneath your breath. By the confusion present on his face, you're not sure whether he had or hadn't heard you.

Hurriedly standing from your seat, you find your voice once again, and it comes out much stronger this time, "I can't do this right now!"

As you move towards him, arms outstretched to push him out, you can see his puzzlement increase tenfold. Once your hands land on his chest, he seems to regain some control of his voice.

"The fuck are trying to do right now? What the hell do you mean, 'You can't'!?" Before he realizes it, you've pushed him all the way out back into the hallway. Taking hold of the door, you move to begin sliding it close; you're halfway there before he reaches out and grabs a hold of the door as well, effectively preventing you from locking him out.

"Oi! I didn't come all the way here just to fuck around!" He raises his other hand, and in it, there's a creased, little piece of paper sitting in between his fingers. Glancing from it to his face, there's a mix of emotions all fighting inside him and causing turmoil that you can very clearly hear in his voice and see on his face, but the heavy pit in your stomach prevents you from genuinely caring that you've caused such an ordeal within him in only a matter of minutes. You just want him to be as far away from you as possible.

Without another word, you grab the paper from his fingers and yank the door shut, locking it before he can even blink.

You aren't sure whether he's left or not, but once the door closes and silence fills the space again, you feel yourself begin to fill with air, and you're grateful for it, after spending the last few minutes drowning in all that he is. 

You're palms feel hot. There's a searing sensation in them, most likely as a result of having him under your hands. It hurts. You've never felt this susceptible to someone else's gaze or their touch, and it makes you want to run away and bring them as close as possible, all at the same time. It's a dizzying dichotomy of emotions that makes you feel sick.

You have a soulmate.

What was once a tranquil and boring life is now being thoroughly shaken up, and in your mind's eye, you can no longer find your line, and it scares the shit out of you.

  ---

Being in two completely different departments of study makes it much easier to avoid this Bakugou Katsuki. Unfortunately, you aren't able to transfer his request to someone else to handle, so at some point, you'd have to see him again. You aren't sure if the emotions that slap you across the face whenever you think of meeting with your soulmate again are bitter or benevolent ones. 

Two weeks pass of you avoiding Bakugou like the plague. Throughout that time, however, not once does he leave your thoughts. In the mornings when you awaken, and you find that dawn has arrived and is slowly painting the world into a beautiful coalesce of the vibrant hues of night and day, you find yourself wanting to share the sight with him. You wonder if he'd find the view before your eyes as enrapturing as you do. When you're sitting inside your workshop, and you spot the gentle descent of little, white snowflakes falling obliquely onto the ground, blanketing the city of Musutafu in several layers of the soft, puffy substance, you wonder if he's watching the snowfall, too. You wonder if he prefers to go outside and trample over fresh, untouched patches of snow, or if he prefers to stay inside huddling beneath several layers of duvets. You wonder all these things and wish to know the answers to them and so many other things. You wish to unravel him from inside and out until you are properly acquainted with every little habit and idiosyncrasy he possesses, but the thought of having to reciprocate—to leaving yourself vulnerable to any other person leaves you with a series of harrowing emotions.

And so, you avoid him.

Bakugou, on the other hand, had just about fucking had it.

Every second he had outside of his classes and training was spent trying to hunt you down. However, you seemed to just disappear into thin air. 

He knew you were avoiding him and the thought genuinely hurt him. He found himself saying pitiful shit in his head that he otherwise wouldn't have dared to utter. He found himself becoming insecure, much to his chagrin, and he could count the number of times he felt this way on only one of his hands.

To make matters worse, he couldn't find it within himself to hate you, despite you pushing him away. In the stolen pockets of time between all the commotion of his current daily life, you continue to consume his thoughts. He thinks of delicate, velvet-looking texture of your hair that finds he just wants to bury his face into; he thinks of those patient and fond eyes of yours, and how he could spend all day looking into them; he thinks of the supple, pliable skin of your cheeks, and how he longs to feel them beneath his own hands; he thinks of peachy scent of the entire room, and how that was most likely as a result of your perfume or your conditioner—he's not sure which, but he dearly wishes to discover the answer for himself.

Much too soon for Bakugou's liking, he remembers the cute expressions that were present on your face during your first encounter being wiped away and replaced with the anxiety and fear that his very presence seemed to bring. Then, there is a door in his face. 

This is when the pathetic, unconfident thoughts come running back to plague him once again. The cycle repeats itself like this for the duration of you avoiding him, and Bakugou was truly at his wit's end. Screw you pushing him away and screw you avoiding him. He was going to speak to you again, and this time you weren't going to push him away—he'd make sure of it.

After great tribulations, Bakugou was able to get his hands on the class 1F schedule—your schedule. You have a free work period at the same time he's supposed to be getting English lessons from that loud-mouth hero. Bakugou knows he'll get shit for it, but this was his only opportunity. When the time comes, he swiftly makes his escape, and heads in the same direction he did on that fated day two, weeks ago. 

This time, he opens the door gently, and he's once again hit with the dewy scent of peaches that he now so adores. Before him, you work quietly and diligently on a project with nimble fingers that he wants to feel between his own. Your back is to him, and he takes the opportunity to admire you more. 

You sit purposefully and tall—you don't slouch; your uniform fits to you perfectly, as if it was made solely for you, and you alone; through the window, he can see the muted grey skies continuously heave crystalline flakes of snow, and it paints a sublimely backdrop for you—it's as if it was made to fall just for this reason. 

In your peripheral vision, you see a figure standing in your doorway, and you turn your head to face it. Upon seeing your eyes widen in shock, Bakugou hastily steps into the room and locks the door behind him, and he's once again reminded of why he came here in the first place.

With an accusing finger stretched in your direction, he stomps over to you.

"Listen here, you little shit," once within close proximity of you, he leans down so that his eyes are level with your own, "the fuck are you trying to pull, avoiding me and shit like I killed your fucking dog!?"

Upon spotting the fright present in your eyes again, he leans back into a standing position. He continues with a softer, albeit still aggressive, tone. 

"We're soulmates for fuck sake. Why don't you care?" he finishes.

Feeling already so vulnerable under his gaze, you cast your eyes downward, and find yourself at a loss for words for a few moments; you strangely find yourself in appreciation that he waits patiently for you to find your voice again.

"I do care! I just—" you start, and it takes you another beat of time to begin again, "I—I just... I don't think I'm..." you have a sigh, and drop your shoulders. "I just don't want to be in a relationship with anyone." It's the simplest explanation you can give him while still protecting yourself. 

"What'd you expect me to do, fucking marry you on the spot?"

You choke at this, and had the circumstances been a bit different, you probably would have laughed up a storm. It's silent for a few more moments, and Bakugou quickly finds himself growing desperate. 

"...They're not always couples, you know?" He croaks out, uncharacteristically gentle. 

"Huh?" You look back up at him, confused.

He's quickly irritated again. "I'm saying that soulmates aren't always fucking couples, you moron," he begins, "they're business partners and... fuck, whatever else there is! They're friends, sometimes, you know!"

You look up at him at this, and Bakugou quickly feels meek under your gaze, which shocks him down to his core.

"We can be friends..." he quietly finishes.

The room becomes still around the two of you again, and it's at this moment that the two of you realize the closeness of your bodies. You both find yourselves blushing fervently at the close propinquity, the sudden intimacy making your hearts do wild, erratic movements within your chests. You find yourself desiring to reach out and grab hold of his hands in your own just so that you may feel a part of him—you barely manage to convince yourself to refrain from doing so.

"Friends," you call out softly. Bakugou finds his head spinning at the sound of your voice, and he realizes that he wants to spend all day listening to you speak—even about annoying, idiotic shit that Bakugou would otherwise want to rip his ears off if he ever heard it. From you, he knows that it wouldn't be so vexatious.

"Yeah, just friends." 

You can't control it when the corners of your mouth start to curl up into a soft smile. 

"Okay."

Bakugou finds himself reluctant to part with the current moment. He twists his head side to side in search of a stool like the one you're currently occupying. Once he finds it, he hurriedly pulls it right up next to your own. When he sits, his thigh and shoulder are flush with your own—much closer than any pair of friends would sit, but neither of you can find it within yourself to care.

He picks up the material on your desk, "Tell me about this shit," he says gently—Bakugou notices that your presence makes him gentle and he's not sure yet how to feel about it.

Your smile grows, "It's yours, actually! I started working on it a couple days ago."

He takes the time to really eye the suit in front of him. He analyzes the new details of his costume, noting what's stayed the same and what's changed.

"...Not bad," he smirks at the giddy gleam that appears in your eyes at his approval. 

"By the way," you begin after a few moments, "have you chosen a hero name yet?"

"That shitty hag won't approve of anything I come up with," he turns his nose up in irritation.

"...What about something like 'Ground Zero'?"

He thinks for a moment, "...Sounds dumb."

You laugh wholeheartedly at this, and Bakugou finds that he feels proud of himself for finally being the cause of your joy.

"Okay," you breathe out once you finish your little fit, "I'll keep thinking then."

---

You and Katsuki spend a lot of time in your workshop after reconciling.

You adapt to him quickly, and he accepts you unconditionally. It's like he was always meant to be there and you eventually suppose that it's because you're soulmates. Katsuki is patient when it seems like you've lost your voice, and he lets you change topics as you please whenever you're beginning to feel uncomfortable. You know that Katsuki's sharp, and you presume that he's figured out that you find it distressing to discuss certain aspects about yourself. You're grateful for the subtle measures he's taken to make sure you feel relaxed around him, but you'll never thank him out loud, knowing he'd just deny it like the stubborn boy that he is.

Now, it's gotten much harder to get him off your mind in the moments in which he isn't by your side. It's hard to forget the many stolen glances and brushed fingers and the barely-there space between your bodies when you sit next to each other that never fails to make your heart race. It's also much more challenging to keep your mind from wondering about the things that make up who he is. Now that you have the answers to all those burning questions from the time you were apart, you have a million more questions that need answers. It's one of those very burning questions that bring you to your current conversation, held in the cozy confines of your workshop.

"Take me with you then!"

He deadpans, "Hah?"

"Take me on one of your hiking trips then! I wanna know what you like about 'em so much!" You say with a childish gleam about you.

"If I take you with me during this time of year, you'd probably end up killing yourself or some dumb shit like that." Just as quick as it came, your frivolous glow vanishes.

"Oi, quit fucking pouting, you brat!" He chastises at the sight of your indignant expression. "I'll take you when it starts to warm up, I promise."

A smile finds its way onto your face at the future prospect.

Since it's a Friday evening, the two of you take advantage and hang out for a few more hours than usual. Once the outside world begins to darken, however, he insists on you both getting back to your dorms. The walk back to your respective places was filled with a tranquil quiet; the only sound to be heard was the noisy crush of snow beneath your shoes and the heavy huffs of hot air escaping your mouth. Katsuki walked with his shoulder touching yours, and you welcomed the extra warmth. He leaves you at your door with teasing ruffle of your hair, and you bid him goodnight.

Unlike most other instances, you don't fall asleep immediately that night—your thoughts seem to keep you awake, and of course, they're about your soulmate. You think about how many of the little things you've noticed from the amount of time that you and Katsuki spend attached at the hip. You think of his hair and the unexpected softness to it, despite the unkempt look of it; you think of his eyes and the subtle hint of orange in them, a colour which you purposefully added to his suit so that the two now match; you think of the pliable skin of his hands and the way they leave static against your own when the brush against each other.

As if on cue, your phone vibrates with a message from the very same boy who was currently darting from corner to corner of your mind.

Are you awake?

You respond quickly. Yeah what's up

Meet me at the front gates at 18:00 tomorrow. Wear gloves.

Your heart starts to race a little bit like it always does whenever Katsuki is involved. Part of you wants to question what he has planned, but the other part wants to leave it a surprise. You struggle back and forth for a bit, before ultimately coming to a decision.

Ok I'll be there

It takes a few minutes before your phone goes off again.

And why tf are you still awake moron? Go to bed.

You chortle as you text him goodnight as well. With the excitement of what was to come tomorrow evening, you find yourself almost counting the minutes until the next day.

 ---

Your classmates don't pay you too much mind as you spend the majority of the day scuttling around the dormitory.

Once morning came, it finally dawned upon you that this would be the first time that Katsuki would see you outside of school, as well as in casual clothes. To add on to your stress, you also had no idea about where you were going, and when you had asked him out of desperation, he'd stubbornly refused to tell you in typical Katsuki fashion. 

Fortunately, however, as the clock began to tick closer to your arranged meeting time, everything started to fall into place for you. Your hair seemed to finally stop battling against you, resting just as you wanted it to atop your head. As if a divine light had pointed them out to you, several articles of clothing, among the heaps scattered across the room, seemed to catch your eye and you were able to come up with the perfect outfit—you'd also been able to borrow a lovely pair of matching gloves from the girl in dorm adjacent to yours. You ignored the knowing look she gave you with surprising ease.

With only a few minutes to spare, you scampered out the front door, waving goodbye to a few of the peers that you passed on the way there. The walk to the front gates with quiet and you'd almost slipped twice in your hasty excitement. The sun was already well on its way to falling below the skyline, and you wondered where it was that you'd be going so late at night.

You quickly turn on your heals as soon as you hear the familiar crunch of snow from behind you.

Katsuki was dressed in a dark-red cable knit sweater, and over top of it was a grey winter coat and dark-grey jeans to match. It would seem that despite the usual ragged appearance of his school uniform, Bakugou Katsuki did, in fact, know how to dress up nicely.

"Oi! Quit staring already, and let's go," he huffed out once he was a few feet away from you.

"Don't think I didn't see you doing the same thing, Katsuki-kun," you bumped his shoulder with yours, teasingly. When he didn't try to deny it, you quickly found your teasing remarks backfiring against you, and you felt your face begin to heat up. 

The two of you fall into step with ease as you both walk toward the train station, and the conversation flows smoothly, as it always does between the two of you. At some point during the journey, you noticed that your hand had found itself intertwined with his own—you only wish you'd been able to remove the cloth preventing you from feeling the warmth of his skin directly against your own.

Upon exiting the train station, you were able to take a look at the scene around you. You never really got out much—having found no reason to do so throughout your life—so it took you by great surprise at buzzing city life around you, despite the sun having disappeared quite some time ago. The streets were just as packed as they were during the day, and the fluorescent neon signs across every building made everything look several times busier. Katsuki didn't miss the flustered expression on your face and gripped your hand tighter as he tugged you along toward your destination.

Feeling your feet came to a stop, you snapped out of your stupor and gazed at the sight that lay ahead of you. Before you stood a park that was just as busy as the roads behind you. There were lights strung up around several trees that surrounded a large rink.  People were gliding about on top of the icy surface. 

You tugged excitedly at the hand currently laced in your own, "Katsuki-kun, I didn't know you liked to go ice skating!"

Without glancing at you, he pulled you off in the direction of a booth where a middle-aged woman was renting out skates, "I don't, but you wouldn't shut up about me taking you hiking, so I figured this might be better, considering you have the endurance of a fucking child."

"What'd you just say about—" Katsuki ignored you entirely as he began ordering a pair of skates for you both.

He turned back to you, "Hurry up and tell her your shoe size, you brat."

You huffed as you gave the lady your information, not sparing a glare at Katsuki as you passed him to sit on a nearby bench. Once your skates were laced up, you quickly pouted at your current predicament. 

"...Katsuki-kun," you began in a low, childish tone, and he turned to look at you from where he stood, waiting for you, "I need you to help me walk."

He moved to rest his hands against the barrier behind him, and you watched his shoulders begin to shake.

"Quit laughing at me! I'm helpless here!" He began to snort as he snickered noisily and eventually you started to laugh with him. When Katsuki turned back to face you once again, his cheeks were pink, looking thoroughly amused.

After pulling you up onto your feet, he got behind you so that your back was touching his chest. He held your arms in his own, taking most of your weight off of your feet. With Katsuki's help, you were able to waddle your way over to the rink.

He was still profoundly amused as he watched you awkwardly glide across the ice, holding his hand in a vice grip. Eventually, when you proceeded to start getting the hang of it after some time, you were able to stand up much straighter and bring your legs together.

You looked over at Katsuki with eager eyes, "Let's go faster, yeah?"

"When you fall flat on your ass, I'll be too busy laughing to help you up," he was already chuckling lightly, imagining the scene in his head.

"Oh, whatever," you let his jab fly right over your head, too caught up in your quest to start gaining speed.

Without fail, you did end up falling flat on your ass.  However, you managed to take him down with you.

Resting your head against the ice at your back, you began to laugh hard at your fumble. Above you, Katsuki was resting on his elbows on either side of your head, also laughing his heart out, and you realize that this is the first time you've ever heard it—not the usual airy snickers, but a deep, belly laugh. You felt yourself swell with joy.

Once the two of you regained your breath, Katsuki got up first, then proceeded to help you to your feet.

"Take it easy this time," he said, face flush with amusement.

The two of you continued to languidly do laps around the rink for a little while more. When the light snowfall around you began to increase in intensity, you both called it a night. After giving your skates back to the woman who had given them to you—she was smiling merrily while she told you that you and Katsuki reminded her of her daughter and her newlywed husband, which didn't fail to send both of you into a fervent blush—Katsuki began to walk back in the direction of the train station. He stopped when he felt you start to tug on his arm, and you pointed at a café that had caught your eye.

"Thank you for bringing me here today, Katsuki-kun," after receiving the drinks you ordered, you both shed your coats and sat next to each other on a couch in the corner of the dimly-lit room. He only nodded, and in the corner of your eye, you could see the corners of his lips tugging up into a small, bashful smile.

Even after cups of hot chocolate had long since been finished, you and Katsuki sat together in the café, a cozy silence encompassing you two. It was only when you noticed the streets outside began to empty that you suggested that you both start hurrying home.

After the day's excitement began to come to a close on the train ride back to U.A., you felt yourself slowly losing your focus. In your exhaustion, you didn't think twice about letting your head rest against Katsuki's shoulder.

The rest of the walk back to your dorms is already hazy, and you're sure you won't remember it the next morning. He walks you right up to your door, and you hesitate before heading inside.

He looks to you, confused, "What is it?"

"...I had a lot of fun tonight."

He reaches up to pat your head, "Me too," he reaches over to the doorknob and opens it up for you, "Now, go inside before you drop dead out here."

You chuckle softly, "Goodnight, Katsuki-kun."

"Night."

---

The rest of the second term finishes up faster than you expect, and it takes you a minute to wrap your head around the situation. It's only when you're gazing at the backs of your classmates exiting your shared dormitory with suitcases in tow that you recognize that your winter break is officially upon you. You also realize that you are, too, are leaving to visit home, and so was Katsuki—you won't be able to see each other for the next several days, and you're not sure what to make of the funny feeling that settles in the bottom of your stomach at the thought.

The overly-large front entrance to the building comes to a close with a massive bang, the sound echoing—the last of your classmates had left, and you still had yet to pack. The room is suddenly several times bigger, and the air several times colder. Heaving a sigh, you tuck your arms into your body and turn on your heels, heading back to your room.

The air in your dorm-room is just as cold, and so is the air of the outside world. The air in the train station is cold and so is the air in your house once you finally arrive. You're freezing all over again, and you can't seem to figure out how to fix it.

You long for your warmth again, though you don't have a clue as to how you found it in the first place or where it went.

 ---

Almost uncontrollably so, your heart starts to pick up, the incessant pounding rises to a loud crescendo in your ears, and you hold tighter to the small, decorated box sitting inside your palms. There's a familiar prickly feeling in your cheeks, resulting from the flush of your skin and the frigid winter atmosphere fighting against each other. You're nervous.

After knocking firmly on the door of the house standing before you, the quiet anticipation of who would answer makes you stress. It seems like centuries before the door swings open and the boy you've been waiting to see stands before you.

Unabashedly, you smile as wide as your face permits, "It's been a while, Katsuki-kun! Happy New Year!" All too quickly, he finds himself with a rosy glow about his face and turns his head in an attempt to hide it.

"It's not New Years yet, idiot," he reaches out to grab your arm, "come inside before you get sick."

Despite Katsuki quickly dragging you up the stairs and away to some corner of the house, you managed to take a look at your surroundings—his home is very urban and modern with a stylish open concept. Off in some other part of the house, you can hear excited, hushed whispers, presumably from his parents.

Katsuki opens a door and ushers you in first. On one side of the room, there's a hardwood desk with several stacked books and a laptop resting on it. On the other side of the room, there's a bed, properly made, and next to it, a large window looking out onto the horizon. In the middle of the room, there's a low floor table and beneath it, a soft-looking rug. Katsuki walks past you during your inspection of his bedroom to take a seat at the table. You follow suit and take place adjacent to him. 

"Sorry we couldn't meet up until now. Got sorta busy," he raises his arm to rub at the nape of his neck, his expression remorseful. 

You shake your head, "We'll be able to spend the last day of the year together," you offer, "so, it's not all bad. Besides, I'm sure your family wanted to spend some time with you, all things considered. They've probably missed you."

"What about you? You seem like the type to have a huge, noisy family."

"Nope," your smile falters, "Just me and my aunt."

He hesitates before he speaks again, his words cautious, "...What happened to them?" He doesn't have to say it for you to know that he's referring to your parents. There's a long pause that follows, and all that happy gleam about you was slowly, but surely, dissipating. 

"...They died when I was younger," there's a part of you that feels like you're sharing too much—a part that feels like you're leaving open wounds to be laid bare and exposed—the other part of you, most likely the part of you with ink covering itself, wants only to hold faith in Katsuki and trust him with this part of your past, "...they were heroes, and they were murdered by villains."

The eerie quiet that follows does nothing to settle the pit growing in Katsuki's abdomen. He can see a cloud of melancholy fall over your shoulders, and he's woefully unsure of how to get it to disappear. Everything he can think of saying doesn't sound quite right. 

Knowing that nothing he can ever say would help you, Katsuki sits up onto his knees and leans over to you. His arms fall tightly around your body, holding you securely in his embrace. No other words are exchanged for the next several moments. 

The inside of your entire body fills to the brim with butterflies. Their large, downy wings brushing up against every corner of your body, leaving a cozy, soft warmth that tingles on your skin. The areas where Katsuki's body meets your own feel exceptionally warm—almost hot. You unconsciously press yourself against him. You revel in his embrace for a while more.

You find that no words will leave your lips, so you lock your gaze with his instead, hoping that he can see the gratitude through the window of your eyes.  He nods while slowly unwrapping his arms from around you.

He moves onto his feet and walks over to his bed, kneeling beside it and pulling something out from beneath it. You watch as Katsuki's arms tense when he picks up the object. When he turns to face you, you see that it's a box wrapped in brown wrapping paper with twine tied around it. Katsuki carries the box over to where you're sitting and gently places it in front of you.

You stare at him curiously as he moves to sit back in his previous spot, "What's this?"

"I meant to give it to you on Christmas, but I couldn't get away," he looks away from you, "open it."

A childish glow settles over you as you carefully unwrap his gift. Upon laying your eyes on the contents of his gift, you gasp.

"Katsuki-kun, this is—" you're eyes are almost sparkling, and your voice shakes in awe, however, you can't seem to finish your sentence in your stupor. 

He smirks at your palpable joy from his gift, "It's all you support course kids talk about these days, anyway. You're all like broken records." Katsuki had gotten you the newest, high-end toolset designed by an upcoming support hero, and was supposed to be quintessential to any aspiring support course student. 

Unsurprisingly, you and all your peers were frothing at the mouths to get it; unfortunately, it sold out almost as soon as it hit the shelves. You'd moped around for several days about it, pissing Katsuki off to no end with your miserable attitude. 

"How were you even able to get it!?"

"Don't worry about it," he dodged. You laughed and held the box tightly in your hands.

"I love it, Katsuki-kun! Here," you move to pick up the small box you'd placed on the ground earlier, placing it on the table in front of him, "open yours."

Having not expected you to get him a gift, he lifts open the top of the box with a rosy patch of pink across his cheeks. Inside was a silver, titanium band with a small, reddish gem that matched the colour of his hero costume. You watch as he picks it up and holds it between his fingers, inspecting it.

"I made it myself," you explain, "I remember you talking about how your arms start to hurt once you start reaching the upper limits of your quirk. The science behind it is pretty complex, but basically, it should help ease some of your pain."

You grab the ring from his fingers and take his hand into your own. "You wear it like this," carefully, you slide the piece of jewelry onto his thumb. The colour of his cheeks deepens to a shade of crimson, and he turns his head away from you.

"..Thanks."

Before you can start talking his ear off about the ingeniousness of that ring of his and all the intricacies of it, the door to his room bursts open and standing in the doorway is a female carbon copy of the boy seated next to you.

"Oi, Katsuki! How long do you plan on trapping this poor girl in your room, you moron!?"

"I ain't trapping anyone, you old hag!"

"You really plan on using that foul mouth of yours like that in front of your girlfriend?" Instantly, like a muzzle had been placed on Katsuki, he pipes down. His aggression is still easily apparent, however.

"I-I'm just a friend," you say, extremely rattled by the mirror image of Katsuki standing before you—personality-wise and physically. The woman's temper does a complete one-eighty, and she's adorning one of the sweetest smiles you've ever seen. 

"Oh, I know my son's attitude is unbearable, but there's no need to be ashamed of him," she jokes.

Katsuki scowls, "Would you shut the hell up!?"

Katsuki's mother chuckles, pleased at so easily being able to get under his skin with her teasing. "Just make sure to take her downstairs at some point so she can have some of the food you spent all afternoon locking everyone out of the kitchen to make."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it!" He shoos her away, only relaxing when the door finally closes behind her.

"Katsuki-kun, you cooked for me?" you ask with a satirical lilt in your voice.

He blushes again, embarrassed, "How many seconds exactly did it take for the old hag to rub off on you!?" 

You laugh as you grab his arm and stand, pulling Katsuki up with you and drag him towards the door. 

"Let's go eat!"

As Katsuki works at plating all the dishes at the table, you take the time to properly introduce yourself to both of his parents, Mitsuki and Masaru. When Mitsuki proceeds to start teasing you for dating her son again, you lightly remind her that you two are indeed just friends—you can tell she doesn't believe a word you're saying, but at least she seemed to relent a bit.

Throughout dinner, you can't help but notice the startling similarities of everyone at the table, including yourself. On one side, Katsuki and Mitsuki sit next to each other, continually grating on each other. On the other side of the table, you and Masaru are seated beside each other, softly smiling at the antics of the two people before you.

"Why don't you two head down to the shrine a couple blocks from here," Mitsuki suggests once dinner finishes and she spots the time—it's half-past ten, "you can count down the new year together! And since it'd be pretty late by the time you both make it back, you can just stay over."

When Katsuki doesn't say anything, you can tell that he's leaving it up to you. "I'd have to call my aunt first, but I think it should be okay!"

You're excited at the prospect of being able to visit the festival with Katsuki. You hurry to call your aunt and beg her to give the go-ahead, which doesn't take long to get.

By the time you finish washing the dishes with Katsuki, and you've bid his parents adieu, it's only a few minutes past eleven when you make it out of the house. The streetlamps of the neighbourhood are incandescence, shining down onto the throngs of people also headed towards the shrine to see out the year. It almost feels entirely too natural when your hand finds itself latched onto his own. This time, you can feel the warmth of his palm directly up against your own—you also feel the cool, metallic band nestled around his thumb. You can't help the tender smile that makes its way onto your lips as you walk.

 ---

Midnight had come around faster than you expected—having been too wrapped up in the many stalls selling various items, you hadn't kept track of time. Instead of letting you try and find your way home, Katsuki took you back to his home.

Stepping through the familiar entrance, you noticed that all the lights were out, and the house was quiet—most likely, Mitsuki and Masaru had already head off to sleep. You and Katsuki tread carefully up the stairs and through the hallway towards his bedroom. You walk over to his bed and fall ungracefully on top of it, heaving a heavy sigh.

"I'm exhausted," you drawl out, and lift your head so you can see Katsuki and smile merrily at him, "but I had tons of fun today."

He doesn't respond and only continues to shuffle around the room, pulling out an extra set of bedding from the closet, placing it on the floor near the bed. He settles into it as you do the same.

Despite your weariness, you don't fall asleep as soon as you would have liked. The steady breathing and light snores of the boy adjacent to you indicate that Katsuki had long since nodded off. The otherwise noiseless room and your inability to rest allows you to think, and you question yourself—could it be possible that the people around you were right that you and Katsuki bore a relationship akin to that of couples? You've never been in love, so what really was love to you? Were the dizzying touches and held gazes that made your heart clench love? Were the onerous and all-consuming jovial emotions he made you feel love? How does any one person put a label on love?

You realize that Katsuki has all this time been treading on eggshells around you to prevent you from talking about anything that would remind you of your past—he must have thought he'd stepped on a landmine earlier.

If you truly were in love with Katsuki, would you be willing to bare your soul to him and entrust him with your heart that's been scarred by the people you had loved most—to trust him not to toss it out into the piercing, bitter air where it will only wilt away in the presence of none.

These very questions leave you with a sour taste in your mouth and a chill that nips away at your fingertips.

---

Katsuki had once walked around with an aura about him that screamed he was self-centred and uncaring of the people around him. That all washed away once he'd met his other half.

To Katsuki, spending time with you was like lounging around inside a hazy, little velvet cloud of tender intimacy, and when you both part ways for the day, Katsuki falls right back down to earth—except this time, the world isn't so full of troublesome woes and irritations that would normally leave him surly. His classmates have, no doubt, caught on to this new Bakugou Katsuki that was a little less dyspeptic.

Katsuki is head-strong and resolute in his actions—he paves his own way, and all that others say be damned—so after wrestling with his emotions a bit and coming to terms that he's gone completely soft, he doesn't give it a second thought when he concludes that he's in love with his soulmate. It had only been a few months since the two of you had met, but soulmates always did move faster than others.

A revelation like this would have any average person on cloud nine; however, Katsuki is far from it. There is, instead, a dark, ominous cloud hovering over his shoulders. He is wholly aware that you may not be ready to be truly loved by him just yet. With how your first encounter went, how you always seem to be tiptoeing around him when it came to certain subjects, and whatever had transpired on New Year's Eve, Katsuki can deduce that there are shackles around your heart and that they may have something to do with your parents. He knows that they won't just disappear, but he at least hoped that you would trust him enough to share your pain with him, to let him help ease even just a bit of your burden—to talk to him.

Katsuki had thought that you had maybe might have made some progress towards that reliance on him. However, it doesn't take Katsuki long to realize that you've resided back into that familiar shell he'd found you in only a few months prior—you've been faraway and curt with him for weeks now.  You'd taken five steps backwards, and now you are distant, closed off and hard to reach again. ---

In typical fashion for U.A., there was a villain attack on the students of class 1-A. The details regarding the incidence are mostly unclear to the general populous. Of the little information released, you and many others across Japan knew that there was an attack and that a particular student was at the center of it—Bakugou Katsuki, the winner of the prestigious U.A. Sports Festival. Even if no one had been severely hurt, the information left you in dizzying disarray.

For a moment, when the news first struck, you were left crippled with fear and the once deeply buried anguish wrapped its bitter fingers around your throat. Even after the events of the attack were well over with and you knew Katsuki was okay, you still found it difficult to get a breath of air that doesn't burn away at your windpipe, leaving it raw.

Katsuki would vehemently tell you that he was completely fine, and maybe he truly was, but that did nothing to dissuade your thoughts—heroes die, and they leave behind the people that love them most.

You're well aware of the fact that you and your emotions are the two utmost divergent pairs to walk the earth. You had long ago once accepted this incompatibility. The problem arises when Katsuki comes into the frame; you wish so dearly to entrust these fickle feelings unto him and let him help guide you through them—you can tell that he wants to, as well. Yet, the thought of what you stand to lose once you bring him close to your heart dredges up memories and emotions that you'd worked so diligently to force into the farthest reaches of your soul.

Despite all this, you still find yourself longing to lose yourself in him and the comfort he's given you—to meander aimlessly through the warmth and blissful ignorance.

It's when you receive an invitation from Katsuki to visit the winter illuminations and you find yourself agreeing, despite having given him radio silence since New Years, that you realize that you haven't the slightest clue about what exactly you're doing with Katsuki—it almost feels as though you're using him, seeing as you can't find it in yourself to bring him in as close as you know you both want and deserve.

When the night of the date in question comes about, there's a tense quiet that neither of you can seem to shake—you know you're the cause of it.

The sky is flushed with deep indigo-violet hues as you exit the station in Shinjuku, and the illuminations are only a few steps away. Once the area around you starts to become littered with warm, various coloured fairy lights, you seem to forget your troubles just a bit.

"Y'know, I don't think I've ever actually seen this stuff in real life either," you smile gently at Katsuki, "looks like you're showing me new things again."

You're not sure if he's been able to don the same faux blithe attitude as you have, but when he tightly grasps your hand in his own, you know he's at least willing to try.

Katsuki smirks lightly, "I'm pretty sure I just destroyed the last hermit on earth."

You giggle softly as he begins to pull you along the glowy, pink path that many other couples are currently treading. The hazy air of the luminous park is idyllic and intimate, and you're able to stroll aimlessly through the many attractions scattered throughout the neighbourhood with easy conversation flowing between you—it's slightly terse, unspoken feelings trying its best to pierce the atmosphere. You are able to suppress them for the most of the duration of your amble around the district.

When you're legs begin to tire, you pull Katsuki over to an empty park bench that's unexpectedly warm beneath you, though the untouched parts of the bench are covered by frost. As you rest your head against Katsuki's shoulder, and you feel that he rests his head against your own, there are no words exchanged as you sit in silence together.

Once Katsuki's body slowly begins to tense, you know that he's getting anxious about something.

"What's wrong?" You quietly mutter out, not moving from your current position.

He doesn't speak right away, and you can tell that the oblivious serenity of the night is quickly dissipating.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"...I don't know what you mean," you feign ignorance. Unlike every other instance in your relationship, Katsuki isn't so quick to drop the conversation or pretend he's convinced. He sits up straight, jostling you off of him in the process.

"I don't buy that shit, and I don't wanna hear another one of your fucking excuses," his voice shakes slightly, "I wanna know what it is that you're hiding from me and why you've been so fucking weird with me for half the month."

His frank demands leave you rigid and at a loss for words as the emotions you'd been trying hard to hide away all evening are making their way back up. Katsuki waits several moments for a response, and when he receives none, he stands from the bench, dropping your hand from his own.

"Forget I asked," he sighs out, "let's just go home." He doesn't wait for you as he begins to walk toward the train station.

There's an unfamiliar and unpleasant space between you the entire way back. You wish dearly to reach out and hold tightly to him as you explain all your woes, but you have no idea how.

---

At every occurrence prior to now, Katsuki had confronted you. He had always been the one to try and prompt you to bare some of your sullen secrets. At every occurrence prior to now, the words die away on your lips, nowhere to be found.

When you awaken the day after your melancholic walk in the park, it's well into the afternoon, yet the sky is gray and dark; you rise to your feet with unexpected vigour, anyway.

If you approach Katsuki on your own terms to tell him what he wants to hear, you suspect that you won't be afraid anymore, right? The idea fills you with a sense of encouragement to make things right.

You patter around your room as you rush to make yourself a bit more presentable—rubbing the sleep out of your eye, taming the tousled hair atop your head, and changing out of your sleepwear. In your haste, you absentmindedly forget to bring your coat, and it comes back to bite you only moments later.

When you step out into the unforgiving, hiemal, late January air, the snow around you falls as though the clouds had opened up right down the middle and are dropping its contents all at once—you shiver. Katsuki's dorm is a short walk away from yours, so you forego the jacket and sprint towards the dormitory that's five buildings away from your own. When you enter, your cheeks begin to burn at the sudden change in climate.

The common area ahead of you is lively with the students of class 1-A, and whatever it is that they're partaking in, Katsuki isn't there. It's enrapturing enough to keep them from noticing your presence as you slip past them toward the stairs. Your hair is damp with melted snow by the time you reach the fourth floor.

Your fist raps against Katsuki's door three times.

"Fuck off," he calls out from within his room, voice terse and muffled by the door. You knock again.

"Oi, Shitty-Hair, didn't I fucking tell you to leave me the hell—" the look of confusion on his face as he tears open the door is potent, and you know that you're the last person he's expecting to see.

"Hi..." you start, and your feet shuffle in anticipation, "I thought it would be good if we finally talked..."

Katsuki doesn't hesitate to move off to the side and usher you in. Your back is still towards him when the door shuts, and you feel a hand gently entwining itself between the clumpy strands of your wet hair.

"Did you really come all the way over here like this? The day you get me sick is the day I kick your ass, moron." There is no malice to his words, and you chortle halfheartedly.

"Sorry," you mutter.

Katsuki's fingers leave your hair, and he drags his feet along the floor as he approaches his closet. He searches for several moments, only to pull out a ribbed, white bath towel.

"Don't be sorry, just sit."

You perch yourself against the edge of his bed, and Katsuki moves to stand before you, towel poised above your head. His hands are rough as they blot and tousle your hair. As his cloth-covered fingers traverse through your hair, you begin to fill with guilt; even now, while he's still upset with you, he Katsuki still cares for you. You want to show him that you care for him, too. You want to make him feel a bit of joy before you burden him this evening.

When Katsuki begins to move the towel lower to dry the hair near the base of your neck, you peek your head from under the cloth to face him. You hold your gaze with him for a moment, and you watch as his expression softens, though his eyes are still muddled with a sadness that makes your heart twist.

You move half-minded as you grasp his shirt between your fingers and pull gently, bringing Katsuki's forehead to rest against your own. His nose brushes up against the gelid skin of your cheeks. As you lean closer, Katsuki's breath brushes over your bottom lip, and you move a hand to rest upon his face, thumb pressing softly into his cheek. You hesitantly plant a faint kiss against his lips before pulling away, the distance between you only a hairs-width. You wait nervously for a reaction from your soulmate, and you never receive one—Katsuki only moves to caress your lips with his own again.

As you hold each other in your intimate embrace, it's almost impossible to pull away. The kiss is like bittersweet dark chocolate—Katsuki's taste is the saccharin, sugary bits, and yours is the acrid cocoa parts. Heat sits high on your cheeks as the kiss descends into territory the two of you have never explored, bringing you both down with it.

In a way that's just like him, Katsuki delves your embrace into something deeper, more raw and aggressive. You're content to let him as your hand grasping his face moves to intertwine with the baby wisps of hair at the base of his neck, and the other splays against his chest. Katsuki's own hands move to place his hands firmly onto your cheeks, pulling you impossibly closer to him, dropping the now damp towel behind you in the process.

When Katsuki parts from you, he rests against your forehead again, his breath laboured and fanning across your cheeks.

"I want to be more than just a friend to you," Katsuki's voice is quiet and strained, no louder than a choked up murmur. When your body stiffens, and your hand loosens from its place in his hair, Katsuki pulls away, eyes opening to bore into your own—his cheeks are rosy and his lips swollen, but his eyes are despondent, "I've always wanted to be more to you, but you've never wanted to hear that, have you?"

Your arms drop from around him as his own do the same. Katsuki takes a step back from you, arms crossing in front of his chest. You pull at your fingers that suddenly now feel subnivean. You try your best to come up with something to say, but nothing substantial comes to you. You find yourself as at a loss for words as the day you met.

"We were only ever supposed to be friends, Katsuki-kun..."

"Bullshit," he scoffs, irritated, "I don't know shit about relationships, but I know that we're not fucking friends, and you know it, too."

When Katsuki heaves a sigh, you can tell that he's starting to give up, and a heavy pit forms in the bottom of your stomach.

"This whole time we've known each other, I've always been the only one trying for us—even when we first met. Now, all I'm asking from you is to try for me, and all you have are fucking excuses."

You know he's right and that what he's saying is fair and makes sense, but there's this irrational part of you that feels like the world is crashing down around you. You feel like you're in quicksand, and you're sinking down into the deepest parts of the earth where you won't ever be found.

"Well, what am I supposed to say, huh? All of this is terrifying, and I have no idea what to do about it!" You're angry now, and you realize that this is the first you've yelled at Katsuki—this is the first you've yelled at anyone.

"Fucking talk to me! That's all I've ever asked you to do!"

"I—" your lip begins to quiver when you find that you're in the same position that you were last night and that you still don't yet know how to overcome your cowardice, "...I can't."

"Then, get out."

Your head snaps up to meet his gaze, and you've never seen Katsuki looks so full of anguish before.

"I just want to be there for you, and no matter what I do, you never open up to me. If you can't trust me, then get out."

The room is silent for a long while, and it only adds to the hurt you feel. Maybe you're selfish for feeling like you've been betrayed but, it doesn't change the way your chest concaves and fills with dread.

You break your gaze from him as you stand, barely brushing past him. The sound the door makes as it shuts behind you serves only to further solidify the end of your relationship.

---

Somewhere, in the farthest parts of your mind, you almost wish you hadn't met Bakugou Katsuki at all.  Here he is, in all his glory, holding up a mirror to you—a mirror you had failed to hold up to yourself. In it is a scared, young child that feels completely alone. She fears her loneliness, yet desires it most. All she wants is for someone to reach out to her and hold her close as her fears dissipate into an abyss. However, she's terrified that one day that those arms will loosen and that she fall freely until she hits the ground where all her ugly emotions lay—the bottom of the abyss is cold and dark and no light shines there.

Instead of letting go of her fears and letting herself be held, all caution thrown to the wind, she learns to keep them at bay and to reject help from those around her. In her mind, she cannot be tossed into the chasm if there are no arms to carry her; in her mind, she cannot reunite with her unsightly feelings if she never lets them go.

And then, the partner to her soul waltzes in, telling her to he can help her run away from the abyss altogether if she's willing to let him; telling her that she doesn't have to tame her hideous emotions, but rather, he can help her make peace with them if she were to let him.

This scares that young child even more—it scares you even more. Bakugou Katsuki, your soulmate, wants only for you to share your burden with him, and you won't let him because you're too scared to hurt yourself even more—or worse, hurt him. Throughout the past several years, you had never learned to let someone in again without feeling like it's going to be the end of the world. You hadn't ever made peace.

That night when you arrive at your dorm room—chilled to the bone, once again—you don't attempt to sleep.  You settle down in front of your bedroom window. In its reflection, a frightened young child stares back at you for the remainder of the night. ---

The first day after your final confrontation, your general studies classes drag by boringly. You know that you should be paying attention, but instead, you stare blankly at your notebook in front of you. Your pencil is poised to make notes across your material, but it never meets the page—it hovers above the paper for the full duration of your morning classes.

When the bell rings for lunch, you shuffle slowly toward the cafeteria, and your eyes unconsciously settle onto the table you know Katsuki sits at. He sits with friends you had heard lots about, but had never met—you normally only come to buy your lunch, leaving right after to head to your workshop for the remainder of the afternoon. There's the usual irate air about him that's always present whenever he's not with you. Even now, while he's in this perpetual waspish state, Katsuki still looks beautiful to you. 

Your heart drums painfully against your ribs, and you turn on your feet, quickly making your way out of the lunch hall.

You have just enough change to buy yourself a bottle of juice from the vending machine that sits just a ways away from your workshop. After making the purchase, you quickly move to lock yourself away in the confines of the room that now holds a plethora of memories; memories of soft, hesitant touches, longing gazes, and warm embraces—memories of you and your soulmate. 

As you twist open the cap of the bottle and sip at the sweet contents inside, you realize that you'd gotten too used to Katsuki being in this room with you—your shoulders slouch a bit forward at the realization that the room around you feels overly spacious and lonely now. A doleful air quick takes hold of the room.

Your work is blowsy that afternoon, and you know that you'll have to do extra work to make up for it tomorrow.  ---

It's by the third day of the week that your peers and teachers begin to notice that there is something different about you, though they cannot pinpoint what. For them, at least, your line in the sand still exists, and they do not dare to cross it. You are still the private girl they've always known you to be, only ever sparing them the polite pleasantries. You avoid their concerned and confused gazes as much as you can.

As you sit in your workshop that evening, you feel like you want to scream—you settle for tightly clenching your fists around the material of the broken support item that lay before you. You're angry—angry at the world for having the bitter season of winter even exist; you're angry at the stupid vending machine for eating your money and leaving you hungry; you're angry at your fingers for not ignoring your dispair, seeing as all the work you do ends up below average; you're angry at your teachers for giving your sloppy work the poor grade that it deserves; you're angry at yourself and the way your cowardice ruined the best part of your day. 

Your cowardice had ruined the part of the day wherein Katsuki finishes with his hero studies and comes to retrieve you from your workshop—he's always chastising you for overworking yourself. Your cowardice had ruined the part of the day wherein Katsuki takes your hand into his own and protects it from the outside air, keeping it warm with the heat of his own palm.

There's a small part of you that wants to be mad at Katsuki for all this—to blame him for even entering your life in the first place.

If he hadn't walked through that door that day, maybe none of this would have happened.

This time, however, you squash that ugly little part of you into oblivion. You know you can't blame Katsuki for shining a bright, luminous light onto the pitch-black traumas of your past.

In the farthest corners of the earth, where directions lose meaning as they cross paths and north meets south, the sun does not shine for half of the year. For almost as long as you can remember, you had hidden away here in this corner where the sun did not shine. Just as you were about to forget what the sun even felt like, it arrives in all its ardent glory. Katsuki is the sun, and he brings to you the warmth you had almost forgotten. Now that you realize this, you miss it more than ever now that it's gone. You want to take it back. ---

It's by the fifth day that you come to terms that you aren't upset with the weather or any machinery or any teacher of yours, but that you are angry at your parents—you're mad at them for leaving you all alone in this world that you know nothing about. You're upset that they wrapped you up in their arms, the whispered promise of their return broken that very same day. They had unintentionally dug the chasm that you fear so greatly. You don't know how you'll forgive them for this, but it's then that you realize that this journey of reconciliation is not one that you need to make with or for Katsuki; it's one that you need to make with your parents for you're own well-being.

That same day, with the help of your aunt, you skip school to visit the grave of your parents. It is there that you thank her for trying so hard to raise you during the most difficult time of your life while she was also trying to deal with the death of her dearest sibling. Her tears run as freely as your own do when you embrace her for the first time since meeting her. She holds your hand in a bittersweet quiet as you try to traverse the surge of emotions you're feeling.

When it's time to leave and you've entered her car to make the trip back home, you begin to cry more than you ever have—even though you're still angry with them, you still want your parents to hold you in their arms and tell you that everything's okay. You want to bring them back, and you don't know how to deal with the fact that you can do no such thing other than to cry like a lost child. You whimper and whine as the tears cascade down your cheeks, desperately begging for some deity somewhere to give you your mom back; desperately begging for some deity somewhere to give you your dad back.

Your aunt uses her fingers to dutifully wipe away at your tears, and you find that you're no longer afraid to lean into her touch.

You sleep at her home that night, and you let her tuck you into your childhood bed. She bids you goodnight, and you sleep deeply for the first time in the past several weeks.

When you awaken, it's not to the honey-heavy dew of slumber that you'd wanted, but to grief and mourning—this time, you're not afraid to let yourself experience it wholly, and you're content to let your aunt dote on you during this. You're disconsolate, but it doesn't stop her from trying and you're grateful nonetheless. You spend the day between fits of tears and more sleep.

You're still sad when you finally make your return to U.A., but you find that you don't fear this sadness or wish for it to disappear. You know that you'll have to carry this weight with you for the rest of your life, but shouldering it will eventually get easier. On the days that you feel weak, you know you can rely on the people who care for you most—you know in your heart that Katsuki is still among those people, even if your last meeting with him had made you think otherwise.

He's your soulmate, after all.

You take the time to redo all the crudely finished projects you had throughout the week. It's a few minutes past midnight when you finish, and you're proud of your work. You hurry to bed, intent to have to tomorrow come as fast as possible.  ---

Katsuki still finds himself getting lost in the gargantuan building that is U.A., but you know it like the back of your hand—you also know that Katsuki takes the same route every day to keep his head on straight. You wait for him this morning at the landing of the same staircase he uses to get to his class. 

As a familiar stomping reaches your ears, you don't find yourself getting nervous or pulling at your fingers. When Katsuki's gaze falls upon your own, and he stops in his tracks, your heart remains steadfast in its beat, never losing control. When he approaches you, expression guarded, you don't feel intimidated, and for the first time, you find that all the words you need spill from your lips.

"I went to visit my parents a few days ago," you begin, and even though you start feeling heartsore, your heart still beats with courage, and your voice does not quiver, "I cried like crazy, and I'm pretty sure I gained a couple pounds from how much food my aunt stuffed me with, even when I told her I wasn't hungry."

You laugh airily for a moment, then let a beat of silence pass before beginning again.

"For a long time, I thought you were being pushy and annoying for trying so hard to get me to talk about stuff that made me feel all the feelings I was trying to avoid. And when we had our had our fight, I thought I could make it up to you by giving you what you wanted, which I thought was an explanation. At some point, I figured out that all you wanted was to help me feel better."

At the next breath you take, your voice begins to shake as you feel yourself finally undulating off the burden of keeping your feelings hidden away.

"And all this time, I've been so scared to tell you any of this is and so scared of loving you the way I know you deserve is because you're well on your way to becoming a great Pro-Hero, just like my parents were. Their jobs killed them, and I'm so fucking scared that it might kill you, too, because I don't ever want to lose you. You mean too much to me."

Katsuki doesn't speak for a few moments, but he eventually lifts his hand to place it on top of your head. He pulls your face into his chest, and you readily wrap your arms around his torso.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that Ground Zero never fucking loses," he questions you and your laugh is filled with mirth, and you shake your head at the response. Katsuki's hand atop your head moves so that his arm is cradling your shoulders, the other arm moving to wrap around your waist. "I'm not going anywhere, dumbass. I'm always gonna be right here for you."

You lift your head from Katsuki's chest and gaze fondly into his eyes, "I'm nowhere near alright yet, so I'm gonna need you to hold my hand when I cry, okay?" He nods, a smile pulling at his lips. Your eyes fall down to his smile, and you're filled with the urge to press your lips against his own—properly this time, no lies or secrets trying to hide in it.

"Oi," your eyes drift back up to meet Katsuki's own at his call for your attention, and there's a familiar gentleness to them, "I love you, idiot. I always have."

Before you can respond, Katsuki slants his lips against your own. The kiss is soft and decadent and miles different than the one you'd first shared. There's a romance to it that is honeysuckle and sweet, and it leaves your cheeks torrid. In the most gentle and agonizing way possible, you know that you've fallen in love with Katsuki as well. As gentle as the soft caress of his hand against the small of your back and as gentle as the press of his lips intertwining with your own. When you finally pull away from each other, you shudder at the lingering sweetness of it.

You stare fondly up at Katsuki, and he returns your gaze.

"I'm your girlfriend, so I need you to take care of me now, Katsu. Please cherish me."

"Don't worry," he starts and his expression is smug, "You can punch me in the dick if I don't."