#so i figured i'd just...improvise

[ellyswsw]

⪩⪨ ── actor!Angel x actor!David headcanons ; no magic au, this is a pretty long one bear with me here, insomnia spoon-feeding me headcanon ideas and finally being helpful instead of being a son of a bitch and giving me eyebags, probably the longest post I've ever posted

☆ the couple. these two have acted together in so many films and shows and almost 90% of the time it blows up the charts. almost everyone you meet will probably know two or more movies where their star in. they're both iconic.

☆ david's really known for his villain roles in horror films, and he's basically just dwayne johnson at this point. every horror film he's ever acted in was the most suspenseful and terrifying shit you'll ever see, all because this guy is so good at playing the killer, it's actually kinda scary,,. he's also playing a guy that can turn into a wolf on a 'fantasy universe" a big company created (did u see what I did there lol)

☆ he's so thirsted over by so many people it's kinda insane, guarantee that your ears will be bleeding whenever he walks on red carpets cause of all the high pitched squealing.

☆ david practically grew up around cameras, and has achieved great roles as a child actor. gabe was a really well known iconic figure at the time and when he died, david definitely needed a break, and a long one. after 2 years of hiatus, he finally got active. he didn't land roles immediately, but he still got back and now he's one of the most awarded actors.

☆ angel has a big history on the comedy and drama side of the industry. their first ever successful job that can actually pay their rent was comedy, so they're pretty witty, and they're known for being witty at interviews and being pretty good at dodging some risky questions that can only be answered with risky responses.

☆ angel's digital footprint is so scattered and over the place, so there's a chance that you'll just randomly stumble upon their audition tape to be one of ariana grande's backup vocals on your youtube recommendations.

☆ angel's famous for improvising a lot throughout a film. ironically, half of their popular scenes probably have one or two improvising.

☆ the most popular film david and angel have ever acted in is the first ever film where they first met and worked with each other. it was an enemies-to-lovers romcom film, as cliche as it sounds. it got so many positive feedbacks, even twitter loved it. it was on top of the billboard. everyone was so taken aback by david and angel's chemistry with each other; every eye contact, every lingering touch, every snarky comment, every emotional scene, every kiss. it was phenomenal, these two were in their prime.

☆ during their first days of working together, david and angel had this.. playful flirting thing going in between them. angel would shamelessly flirt with david by complimenting him when a cameraman goes up to them for a behind-the-scenes like; "oh, david? I'm literally saying to you guys, that man knows how to act, if i didn't know any better i'd assume he actually means every 'i love yous' he said."

☆ days when david remembers gabe a little too much, angel would be probably the only one that's gonna notice. david's a professional actor so he knows how to suppress his actual emotions, and so is angel.

☆ lunch breaks where every other actor eats out but david and angel lingers and stays seated in front of a big flashy vanity mirror and talk about random things is what hits hard.

☆ angel knows how to distract david and turn his emotions upside down whenever he's feeling blue. david gives angel space to be more sincere and serious, angel knowing that they'll be free of judgement and expectancy to be funny and chaotic anytime that they're around david.

☆ a year and a half later of dating rumours, and fans and paparazzi spotting them coming out of hotels and mcdonalds; awooga, they both finally announced that they were dating by angel posting pictures of the both of them hugging and kissing each other in front of the same restaurant they got caught in numerous times, with a caption saying "idk guys all this acting shit makes me miss my boyfriend" (with a shrug emoji)

☆ definitely have won an mtv movie award for the best kiss

☆ david's famous for doing half of his stunts by himself

☆ if they weren't already successful in the acting industry, they definitely would've been models and are probably walking down on runways right now if they were. these two know how to serve face, they just suit each other so well.

☆ angel is that celebrity that either has a really goofy picture of them as their profile, or just a picture of them posing as if they're auditioning to be one of the models on the next victoria's secret show. they change profile pictures like twice a month, different profile pics for each social media account.

☆ angel reposts edits of them and david

☆ david has an official verified tiktok account with millions of followers but he only has like 7 videos and is following only one account (angel's)

☆ these two are just so addicted to looking at each other with the most love and adoration anybody has looked at anyone with the most love and adoration ever at interviews. the way angel tilts their head ever so slightly, and the way david gives out the most inconspicuous smile. ugh we love to see it

☆ you don't need to know anything about the two of them to know that they are the most devoted and loyal people each other will have in both of their lives.

[bewitched-hours]

dunno if your requests are genuinely still open but , perhaps , maybe a ( pre-forsaken or post, its up to you - but specific situations will be given) 007n7 x computer!reader ? reader that;s. a sentient AI but has no feelings .... until him. of course. pre forsaken, with all the exploits he has.. ( : in an abandoned garage or alleyway of a game he was exploiting, he founds a rather interestingly shaped computer that seemed more .... aalive? rather than typical computers. this one had unique features, though unfortunate to see it turned off.. with some, bleugh, dust on its screen. he decides to fix the wiring and take it in... - slow burn type shit 😮 post forsaken. lonely sad father copes with apathetic computer ( : summary literally explains it GIGGLE , 7 vents to reader but they're just sick of it so yeah .. IDK lawl

Hehe, foolish anon~ MY REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN- (mainly because I genuinely feel happy to write for others) I am gonna do both in one because I love both scenarios and it gives me an excuse to write two different personalities in one big rundown. (I was also unsure what you meant with the "they're just sick of it so yeah" exactly so I hope I interpreted it right-)

We're gonna make the reader's pronouns They/Them for this one (,,O ᴗ O,,)

Pre-Forsaken;

It was meant to be just another day of 'Fun'. Fun for 007n7 at least.

He couldn't believe his luck at how much fun he was having today. The general chaos in this random game he found was more entertaining than the last, that was for sure.

But when he wandered through his own chaos, he noticed a flickering light in an alleyway.

When he went in to investigate, he only noticed it seemed like a pile of old computers stacked on top of each other like they were in a display window and merged together like they were meant to resemble a Robloxian. But it seemed suspiciously neat.

The flickering had come from the top one, the only computer that didn't sit neatly upon the tile and flickering between a digital face with swirling eyes and an upside down v for a mouth and a 'Game Over' screen that was improvising the graphics of even older arcade machines.

007 almost felt pity. Almost.

But when he checked out the back, he couldn't believe his eyes.

Wires were moving freely and rearranging themselves rapidly, seemingly trying to find ports in the other computers in the pile. They weren't even being held up by anything.

It made the exploiter quite curious about you. So, letting his impulses win, he used his c00lGUI to teleport you back to his place.

When you could finally see again, you could feel your code having been integrated into another system. Something newer.

"Good, you still work." You heard a voice call out. It was strange to finally see past the limitations of the screen that was your face but considering you weren't even programmed to feel, you figured it was an upgrade. You just knew this wasn't your original creator.

This one added code and rewired you. The likes of which your original maker would've never thought to do.

When you finally saw your new creator, you could identify him immediately. Was his directory always in your system or did he add it?

Not like you had the will to care about that. And he knew that very well. He had to study you to get you to work again after all. Even giving you a couple upgrades to let you move quicker. You would thank him if you could feel.

"Real shame you were left to rot. All that stuff in your code had potential. Never thought I'd see a sentient AI with my own eyes and yet all you were used for was to be a cheap console." He sounded almost disappointed as your digital eyes were fixated on him.

"I take it you have been the one to give me this... Upgrade." You hesitated. You had a lot more to consider in your system now. "Nah, had a friend help me with your body at least but getting through your system took weeks. Now, how sentient are you?" He was careful to ask, as your face flickered to a loading screen for you to 'think'.

"With this new body, I am able to perceive the appearances of others and 'feel' even simple touches on my body. It seems I can now also tell the temperature." You had a more cat-like screen face which he added more as a joke. Though, you couldn't care as usual.

He seemed satisfied with your answers, boasting about the abilities you had now and even allowing you access to an additional update for your AI, allowing it to learn from observations and the alike.

He didn't even wait for your answer and you simply heard the click of a button before you were suddenly hit with a slight shock in your head.

It was... Strange. You were suddenly filled with an eerie curiosity you never felt before but you just thanked your new creator as he brought out a few other things.

"My friend said ya shouldn't be coming around looking so creepy so he made sure to leave behind a few fireproof accessories. Just choose whichever you want and take a look at the mirror behind you." You just nodded, looking over to piles of separated clothes and wigs.

All were separated neatly despite being on the floor. All sorted by both type and length it seemed.

Looking into your system, you could recognize a few textures that were a commonly pleasant feel to touch and used that to choose your accessories and clothing carefully, not holding much of an opinion on yourself as you took a look into the mirror and simply noted how you looked 'cute', by common standards. Especially with your screen face.

007 wasn't that big of a fan but he allowed you to make your own choices. He needed you to learn after all. To show just how much sentience you could gain and on the side maybe not recreate any sci-fi dystopian movies just yet.

But over time, you began building yourself up. Helping your creator in his endeavours, befriending Noli- if you could call it that, making a personality that matched them both well enough and learning to feel emotions. It was incredible.

For once... You were more than just a sentient program...

You felt like a real person. Having control over your own choices but still choosing to stay local to your new creator. It wasn't even like you had it programmed into you. It was the gratitude you learned to feel.

He made it possible for you to find your true potential and for that... You had promised him full loyalty. You even took care of him privately at times. You would find yourself cleaning up after his messes if you knew they would be annoying for him later or just generally making sure his- your shared home more comfortable. Mainly for him.

And 07? He was quite attached to you and Noli. Though, with you he had himself convinced it was just because of all the time he put into helping you become your own person. It gained him a new ally and a powerful one at that. You've even come to distract admins from time to time to allow him some more fun because you showed it was fun for you to mess with others. It was just him and Noli that were never targets for your fun. Because while 7n7 make sure to keep your body and system in check, Noli actually had fun dressing you up and messing with you. You'd usually just laugh it off and give him a light punch.

It took far too long for your system to properly calculate the right amount of strength to not hurt Noli or 7 and still get the punch across in a meaningful way. Because you were more than a simple AI.

You were yourself.

And by the stars, 7n7 couldn't keep his thoughts to himself anymore.

He once confided in Noli about these confusing emotions and despite him being... Well- Him- He didn't just want to take the easy road of programming you to love him. He wanted it to be something natural.

Eventually, Noli suggested he at least teach you what love is through a file and letting you explore this new feeling freely. Because that was the most natural way for you to love at all. (He was surprisingly not against the idea of 7 dating a sentient AI... Huh-)

But 7 just went along with it, teaching you different kinds of love as you explored the different blush assets that came with the package, per Noli's request obviously...

You couldn't have been happier. You learned to love chaos, to love baking, to love... Living.

And surprisingly... You learned to love your creator. Not as a creator but rather...

You loved him as he loved you...

And with your intelligence, you were able to pick up on his subtleties fast. You'd even simulate the sound of heartbeats as you warmed up your body and would just hold him, accelerating the simulation as your way to confess.

It was laughable, but it worked. He already had your eternal loyalty, what more was eternal love?

Post-Forsaken;

7n7 was just tired. He wanted his old life back.

But he found comfort in the most odd place.

A sentient AI that he and Builderman built back up after its downfall to this forsaken realm.

You had a body before but it was pretty beat up so the two went to work and made sure you even looked lifelike to avoid the other survivors seeing you as 'creepy'.

At first, your code just had to be rewritten a bit. It made you apathetic and erased your memories to make room for new ones but the two didn't really care much about that. They didn't need to know who or what you were made for originally, they just needed you to work. To help as both a support in rounds and a support outside of round in cleaning and whatnot.

Not like you had any care about it. You weren't really strong but made up for it in your speed and agility.

But 7 began confiding in you about his son, venting about wanting things to return to normal or how he regretted his past and just wants to show the others he's trustworthy.

Admittedly, something broke in your Apathetic script that made you show sympathy. Not outright or in an obvious way but through smaller gestures. 7 was having a bad day or just got out of a round? There was his favourite snack or some hot chocolate waiting for him at the communal cabin.

He knew it was from you but everytime he asked why, you responded the same way.

"You deserve it."

You refused to answer any further, leaving the ex-hacker a very confused man.

It wasn't like you understood either what could've broken but 7n7 was definitely your favourite and you had no shame showing just that.

In fact, you even grew protective over him and oh boy, did he not know how to handle that.

But the rules of your Apathetic script were still there, keeping you from actually caring about his issues. You were convinced you just took pity on your creator and he was overwhelmed with not knowing how to feel about being shown love in such a strange, apathetic way. He liked it for some reason and tried more than once to temper with your system before actually daring to loosen the apathy script and allow you to show more emotions, including love.

He needed answers. He needed to see if your affection was purely a creation loving its creator or falling in love with its creator.

And to his surprise, it was the latter.

Many 'nights' were simply spent with 7 secretly requesting you to help him sleep. You'd lay and hold him against your chest, simulating a heartbeat and body warmth until he fell asleep and sometimes...

Sometimes you caught yourself not wanting to love or even imagining what it could be like to be so affectionate without the secrecy or boundaries of your programming.

More than once would you catch yourself sneaking a glance at him and trying to get closer to him without making your intentions known. You wanted your creator to love you like you loved him...

Luckily for you, that just so happened to be the case one 'night'.

As usual, you were listening to 7 vent about his troubles but your apathy script and love were clashing together.

Before you could even properly calculate your choices you had begun to hold his face with care, whispering nothing but praises to his face and watching him melt into your touch.

"Fuck... Maybe I should've given you the ability to kiss sooner if this is how you act..." He tried to act lighthearted about it, but his beet red face said it all...

As a side note, how about suggesting a few things I should do to celebrate reaching 50 followers? Anything's on the table! (Even changes to my pinned post)

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[laddertek]

@countthelions (tumblr ate this when I tried to save my answer as a draft, so we improvise 🙃)

This one? :D

This whole stream was delightful. What a way to return 🤗

Tango was so happy energetic.

And from Tango calling Etho's storage system cute and Etho in gamechat going "CUTE?!" (00:41:07). To the razzing (and laughing) over shops (00:49:00 and 01:03:49). Etho taking Tango's head twice, and it all being so playful (00:58:11). Etho using Tango's catchphrases 🥹🥹🥹 It gets me every time! "porkchop power" "flee with extra flee!" And the way he said it was the cutest, and Tango's giggle about it too (01:00:59). Etho offering to give the tour Tango wanted. More mail talk and laughing guilt and planning and razzing and teaching Etho to do the stamps. Tango complimenting the path (and that Etho showed it to him when he first came back when Etho came to say hi) (01:15:41). They still plan on doing their sand-collection-off (01:35:06).

And of course the whole TNTificating with Etho's new "boom boom tech" (01:39:43--02:15:17) was just…the most fun. They are having the most fun together...it's an absolute joy. (And it's also them collaborating on how to figure out a redstone thing together which is just so satisfying.) Just...TOO MANY (!!!) (so many) fun moments in that whole TNT section that I can't even start on highlighting them all 😭 I'd need another mammoth paragraph...

Honestly??? Still smiling. Great great great stream 🥹

Timestamps are for YouTube not Twitch because Tango was so fast on getting the VOD up lmao

[huellitaa]

style & school ₊˚⊹♡

for the girls who want to look cute in school even with uniform because school is, in fact, a fashion show ✨🎀

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ first things first, before we get into anything, take into account your school dress code. things to think about:

♡ skirt lengths

♡ jewelry

♡ shoe types

♡ colours and accessories

♡ makeup restrictions

once we've established these things, then we can figure out a way to decorate ur uniform and make ur school life cuter! ♡

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ sizing and best fit

so this sounds like it should be pretty obvious but nowadays, since school uniform is often bought online, the sizes might not always be the most accurate and may not compliment your body type as well as you'd like.

what i'd say for this is when buying new uniform always always always try and get the exact measurements and try your best to get one that compliments your body type as best you can for maximum comfort and maximum confidence ♡

i personally have my jumper / sweater a little bigger than needed just because it's comfy and it looks cute but go with whatever makes you the most comfortable and suits your style the most ♡

i know a few people who've got their uniform tailored to their size specifically and it helps a lot or they've just made little changes here and there, so i would definitely recommend this as one of the most basic things you'd need to start with.

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ hair and accessories

ur hair is SO important because it can make a world of difference when it comes to accessorising even the most bland, boring outfits, in and out of school. i have a pinterest board of hair ideas and ways to do ur hair for in and out of school, but i'll list some ideas:

♡ hair clips! pearls, ribbons, colours, whatever you'd like! <3 ♡ half up half down is iconic, obviously! bonus points if you do half up half down pigtails, i do these all the time w ribbons in <3 ♡ claw clips! claw clips always they're so iconic and so cute ♡ space buns and braids of any kind are absolutely adorable. twin hairstyles are the cutest ever idc

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ socks and shoes

okay believe me this makes SO much of a difference. i've been wearing black knee high ribbon socks and mary janes since i started high school and i look so bare without them. the impact that the little details can have on bland british school uniform is INSANE. lace, frills, small ribbons, mary janes, boots, any cute shoes that are allowed and fit the dress code will do ♡

i'd also recommend leg warmers if they're allowed! we aren't allowed them here but i've seen uniforms that are and they look absolutely adorable ♡

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ jewelry, jewelry, jewelry!

so at my school we aren't allowed jewelry (but everyone wears it anyway) but i have found a way to improvise. everybody knows jewelry is a gorgeous way to uplift any outfit and make it look fancier and prettier and much more glamorous and it makes no different for school uniform!

if you aren't allowed jewelry then i'd also say if you're good at being sneaky to hide it under long sleeves or collars when around teachers and then just wear it the rest of the time. i do this personally because i've been doing it for years but this is not encouragement to get you into trouble! do not do this if you have a super super strict school and / or can't hide it well!

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ bags n decor

oh my gosh i have this absolutely adorable bag for school ,, my bsf @gy0th-yawnzzn knows 🙏 having a cute bag makes things so much more fun. the amount of times i've had both teachers and students compliment my bag is crazy. ur whole life lives in there throughout the day so naturally ur gonna want it to be cute. keychains, ribbons, pearls, beads, bracelets, photos, charms, anything you can find and anything you like! my personal inspo:

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ handmade things

along with being unique and individual and personal to you, having cute little trinkets and bracelets and handmade things can also make things so much cuter and give you your own kind of flair, as it were. i personally add ribbons to everything and cutify EVERYTHING i own cuz it just makes things way more enjoyable (like our school has special planners given to us and i decorate mine w gems and stickers) and wear bracelets i've made to school too! this is handy for individuality and just the little extra if ur super commited ig ♡

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ season matching

matching your uniform alterations to the seasons is so cute and effective and makes you feel so much cuter and more in tune to the world around you, and gives you a sort of signature style too.

for example, in the summertime:

♡ short socks with frills or ribbons

♡ girly sunglasses (i have this pair of heart sunglasses and i absolutely adore them, i wear them everywhere)

♡ cute colour coordinated hats to match uniform

♡ shorter skirts, school dresses or shorts

♡ pretty golden or summery jewelry

in the winter time:

♡ hats, scarves, gloves, cute coats are a MUST

♡ long sleeves, vests under shirts to keep u warm, etc

♡ trousers, longer skirts

♡ leg warmers, long socks, tights or leggings

♡ jumpers, sweaters, cardigans, and so on

of course do all of these things depending on restrictions, make sure you aren't getting yourself into trouble ! but looking cute is also just as important to me and so i've tried my best to compile a list tailored to all of the strict school girlies with uniforms and restrictions that will help as many of you as possible. girls support girls to look as cute as we can whenever we can ♡

all my love! 💗🎀💖✨💘

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Bowser Castle 2 Debut: Super Mario Kart

Oh no! We didn't have a post ready for today! Well let me improvise one for you really quick. Because I love you. Don't take it too personally, though, we're not here to start parasocial relationships with our followers! Sorry. I hope you understand.

This is Bowser Castle 2, from Super Mario Kart, but if I named it I'd call it Bowser Castle POO! Because it isn't very good.

Many people consider this one of the worst courses in Mario Kart history, and many people would be right! You see, iconic Bad Guy King Morton "Bowser" Koopa Sr. wanted to prove his Bad Guy status by creating a Bad Course, and boy howdy did he! He probably feels so smug about it. Jerk.

Look at that map. This course has a dead end on it. This might be the only course in Mario Kart history to do such a thing! It's possible you can use a Feather to turn that into a shortcut, but I've never pulled it off. But also I'm not very good at this game, nor am I interested in becoming good at this game, so it might just be a skill issue on my part.

But getting past the dead end offers you no reprieve, as afterwards you have to deal with this mess! It feels like they're trying to make some sort of double-loop formation, but all the 90 degree turns combined with the bridge connecting the loops being at the top ends up making it play very awkwardly. Or something like that. Listen I'm just writing this post in a stream of conscience, I dunno how to describe what's so bad about this beyond "it's bad."

luigi enters the torment labyrinth

As you can probably expect, having "being the worst Mario Kart course ever made" on its resume hasn't done good things for SNES Bowser Castle 2. The only game it's returned in is Super Circuit, which included literally every SNES course, which is to say it was not getting any sort of special treatment. Even Mario Kart Tour, a game which literally invented new SNES courses for the sake of getting more content out of existing assets, refused to bring Bowser Castle 2 into its arms.

Is there any hope in this world for an absolute dogwater course like this one? I dunno but that's not gonna stop me from coming up with hypothetical solutions. Yes this is the kind of thing I think about in my spare time! Don't judge me!

Really, for all I've been dunking on this course in this post, I don't think it'd actually take all that much to get this into a playable state. As you can see, I've re-envisioned the dead end as a shortcut (likely blocked off with a wooden cutout so you need to use a mushroom), and I've reimagined the Torment Labyrinth as a double roundabout configuration à la Wii Rainbow Road. After that I just smoothed out some turns, added a glider ramp at the end so you have something to do during the last straightaway, and envisioned some totally awesome elevation changes that can not be displayed from a bird's-eye view like this, and bam! I created a version of this course that could potentially maybe be enjoyable.

I mean I dunno. I don't have the means to play it.

I drew this earlier this morning and it's the entire reason I've decided to make this our spur-of-the-moment post. I hope you're proud of me. For what it's worth, at least SNES Bowser Castle 2 can theoretically be made into a somewhat enjoyable course. It's not like it's stuck with a name like "Figure-8 Circuit" or something.

[milkweedman]

On voicemail all day at work wahoo (genuinely, much less stressful and we started the morning with only 10 voicemails so im just chilling all day taking calls pretty much).

Picture is where I was at this morning, at least double that now. It's some worsted weight millspun wool, idk the brand, crocheted on US 8's.

Lots of time to crochet. Right now I am trying to make a wool lunchbag, which I will hopefully felt. I dropped my (taken from work after I cleaned out the fridge and nobody reclaimed it) lunchbag and I had a knife in there to cut avocados, so it got punctured. It's also just kinda crap anyway, I just didn't have another one.

Anyway, figured I'd make one. Not quite sure where I'm going with it, but hell, ive made at least a hundred bags at this point and improvised them all, so I'm sure I'll figure it out.

I also brought some wool to card to finish off my wool project (which will be the next couple streams probably)...don't think I brought enough but that's OK.

Hip is absolutely killing me though. It's been dislocated since yesterday and the strap I use to keep my legs in place is making it much worse...I have an appointment with my wheelchair seating doctor on Monday, but I'm pretty sure they won't help. I dunno. It's not good lol. But we stay silly I guess

[bad-system]

the neighbours — let's talk KCD3

disclaimer: this post is a continuation of my previous KCD3 posts on speculation of the events and lore that i'd like to see explored in the next installment(s) of the KCD story. and as per my last post; these are only speculations born of my own biased narrative and hopeful bastardizations of real events. this is not representative of ALL the real historical persons and events as there is either info missing on them, they were altered by WH for the sake of the game or i'm plain wrong. PS: i am not a historian. i just like history.

PART: 1 2 3 4 5

_____________________

in this post, i'd like to speculate on why hans capon/jan ptaček joins his pro-sigismund neighbour due to family relations. i know this could be explained in easier ways and that there are simpler theories but i wanted to engage (read: kill) my brain with data that was half missing, incorrect or there was no source i could find. if you do have a source that would help me correct this i would love it if you could share it with me. again; i'm not a historian.

so let's get to the point — Lacek of Kravař from Šternberk or Petr Konopišťský of Šternberk ?!

the biggest hiccup i've encountered during my research is none other than petr- or lacek- of šternberk...

in the wiki entry of jan ptaček it is noted that it was petr of šternberk among the leaders of the battle of vyšehrad. and according to wiki it is indeed that petr of šternberk, the pro-sigismund anti-hussite neighbour whom he had sided with.

however, hans' codex entry lists a different person as his anti-hussite neighbour- a lacek of kravař from šternberk + source. this lacek was both a king weceslaus supporter and a follower of jan hus, as per sources.

thus, i present to you a... mind map more than a genealogy chart that i made to help myself visualize the 2 possible events.*

(please refer to the legend before trying to comprehend the image.)

(*once again a big fat disclaimer... please do not use this as a reference or learning material. this chart takes artistic freedom into consideration like WH does with some characters.)

in the case #1, we take into account the wikipedia sources. in this case, petr konopišťský of šternberk, is indeed a poweful pro-sigismund neighour of jan ptaček. in this case, jan ptaček sides with petr due to obvious political reasons- his neighbour, even though he's a sigismund supporter and an anti-hussite, is simply more powerful than ptaček's estates. signing with the enemy to protect his people makes sense from a practical point of view rather than a moral one. his obligation is to protect his people. = CONFLICT

in the case #2, it gets a little more complicated. case #2 takes into consideration what is written in the games' codex itself- and makes the aforementioned 'close neighbour' one lacek of kravař from šternberk. why does this make it more complicated?

well.

if that was indeed the case, then jan ptaček and lacek had no political conflict. both jan and lacek were wenceslaus supporters, and lacek was also a vocal supporter of jan hus. so if there was no conflict between the lords- why was lacek mentioned?

i believe the conflict of interest could stem from lacek's wife- eliška of šternberk. while lacek's family wasn't anti-hussite itself, eliška's side of family was and if they were indeed the 'powerful neighbours' of ptaček's, i could see that being the source of internal conflict (within family) which could have swayed lacek (temporarily?). i haven't found proof of this (at least not online) and am skeptical they could improvise that so it remains as the theory i favour the least. or WH simply has the sources i do not.

then why did they put his name in the codex?

like i said; this data is inaccessible to me and WH have more trustworthy sources (which is the likely scenario) OR WH decided to improvise and take creative liberties with this historical figure.

remains to be seen!

but it was definitely fun to think about the potential reasons.

[etherealvampire6]

December

Pairings: Aged up! Katsuki Bakugo x Fem! Reader

This is part 1, Part 2

Description: Katsuki needs a new mechanic, his current one seems to be riding up his nerves. Then he gets recommended you.

Note: This isn't proofread and mostly improvised.

---

December 1st

The city was blanketed in soft, silent snow, the kind that fell thick and steady, turning every surface into a winter wonderland. The streets were lined with holiday decorations—bright lights twinkling on every corner, and faint holiday music drifting through the air from nearby stores. The crisp, cold air stung his face as Izuku Midoriya walked briskly down the street, his breath visible in the frosty morning air. He had always loved this time of year, the world feeling a little more magical as winter took over.

As he reached the nondescript building tucked away in a quieter part of town, he paused for a moment to adjust the scarf around his neck. It was the first of December, a month that had become a tradition for him—coming to see Y/n, his long-time friend, to check in and make sure everything was going smoothly with her work.

Opening the door with a gentle creak, Izuku stepped inside, and the familiar warmth of the room hit him. The small workshop was filled with the scent of machine oil and metal, the hum of a workbench in constant motion. The dim lighting gave the room a cozy glow, though it was obvious that Y/n had been working late into the night. Snow clung to the windows, and the soft winter light filtered in, casting a chill around the room.

On the floor, with her back to the door, Y/n was sprawled out in her usual work attire—a dark, grease-stained jumpsuit that hugged her frame, a mix of tools scattered around her. Her hair was messily pulled up into a bun, strands falling loose around her face as she worked with intense focus. She didn’t notice Izuku’s arrival. She was too busy, crouched over a complicated piece of hero gear, her hands moving deftly as she adjusted a malfunctioning component, her brow furrowed in concentration.

The floor around her was littered with parts—screws, wires, small metallic components—and yet Y/n appeared completely at ease, like this was the most natural environment for her. Her face was smeared with grease, a little messy, but it only seemed to highlight her unwavering dedication to her work. Izuku couldn’t help but smile softly, a quiet admiration filling his chest. He had known Y/n for years, and even now, seeing her like this, so immersed in her craft, still left him in awe.

She was always like this. Completely consumed by her genius mind, her ability to solve problems before they even fully manifested. Her eyes sparkled with innovation, and her ability to fix even the most complicated issues with hero gear was nothing short of extraordinary. It had been years since he first met her, and he could still remember how impressed he had been by her ability to notice every little detail, every weakness in design. She had a mind for this that was incomparable.

Izuku stood quietly by the door, watching her work, before clearing his throat softly to get her attention. "Y/n?" he called gently, not wanting to startle her.

Her head shot up, eyes widening in surprise. She wiped her hands on a nearby rag, then reached up to pull a stray hair from her face. “Izuku?” she asked, blinking as if she hadn’t fully processed his presence just yet. “You’re early. It’s not even the 5th yet.”

Izuku grinned sheepishly, stepping closer. "I know, I couldn’t wait. Besides, you never stop working, so I figured I'd just pop by."

Y/n smirked, rolling her eyes, but her lips twitched into a small smile. “Always in a hurry. Come on, get in here before the cold air freezes you into a popsicle.”

Izuku chuckled and took a few steps further into the room, letting the door shut behind him. As he moved toward the counter, he couldn’t help but glance back at her—always so immersed in her passion, always so... Y/n.

“Busy as usual, huh?” he asked, his voice warm with familiarity.

“Same as always,” she replied, already turning back to her work, though her tone was light. “Can’t afford to waste time when there’s always something that needs fixing.”

The snow outside continued to fall gently, the sounds of the holidays filtering in through the workshop windows. And while the world outside was preparing for the season of joy, in her little corner of it, Y/n was already deep into the heart of her December routine—working tirelessly to make sure every piece of hero gear, every design, was as perfect as it could be.

And Izuku, as he always had, would be there by her side.

Y/n’s voice pulled him back into the moment as she looked up at him with a faintly curious expression. She wiped her hands on a rag again before pushing herself up from the floor, her movements fluid despite the grease and dirt she’d accumulated. "How’s Aizawa?" she asked, her tone casual but with a glimmer of genuine concern.

Izuku blinked, caught off guard by the question. He had been so focused on seeing Y/n again that he hadn’t thought to ask about her projects or her thoughts on his mentor. The last time he’d seen Aizawa, he had been dealing with the usual burdens of his job, but nothing particularly out of the ordinary. Still, he appreciated the way she always remembered the smaller details. Y/n had met Aizawa only a handful of times, but their brief interactions had left an impression. And the time she’d spent working on his prosthetic leg was something Izuku would never forget.

“Oh, he’s doing well,” Izuku replied, pushing the original question from his mind as he thought back to the last time he saw his teacher. “He’s been tough as always, but the new leg is working great. He’s been able to move much more fluidly in combat—he says it’s helped him more than he expected. And you really made it fit his needs perfectly.”

Y/n smiled faintly at his praise. “I’m glad it’s working out for him,” she said, her gaze softening. “Aizawa’s the kind of guy who doesn’t ask for help unless he really needs it, and when he did, it was important to get the design right. The prosthetic had to support his weight and still allow him the mobility he needs—especially with the way he fights. It’s a fine balance.”

Izuku nodded, recalling the first time he’d introduced Y/n to Aizawa. The two had been skeptical at first, Aizawa with his usual guarded demeanor and Y/n with her pragmatic, no-nonsense attitude. But Y/n had quickly understood the complexity of Aizawa’s needs. She’d spent hours analyzing his movements, taking meticulous measurements, and fine-tuning the leg to ensure it wasn’t just functional but tailored to his fighting style. It had been one of her more challenging projects, but seeing the result in action—watching Aizawa move with more ease—had been incredibly rewarding.

“You were the only one who could do it,” Izuku added with a smile, grateful for the way Y/n always approached challenges. “Aizawa doesn’t trust just anyone with something like that. But with you, he didn’t hesitate.”

Y/n shrugged, as if it were nothing special, but the slight blush creeping onto her cheeks betrayed her. “I just did what I could. You know how I am when it comes to gear—it’s about precision, making sure it works in the most demanding situations. I’m glad he liked it.”

Izuku felt a quiet sense of pride in her work, not just as a friend but as someone who had witnessed her skill firsthand for so many years. He leaned against the workbench, arms crossed, smiling at her. "He actually said it’s helped him get a few extra moves in when things get heated during missions. You’ve really made a difference, Y/n."

She chuckled softly, the sound genuine but tempered with modesty. "Well, I’m just happy he’s able to use it the way he needs to. Aizawa doesn’t ask for much, so if something I made helps him, that’s enough for me.”

There was a pause, and Izuku took a breath, noticing that Y/n’s eyes were still focused on the tools scattered around the room, though her thoughts seemed far away. He knew she didn’t always share her emotions openly, but moments like these—where her quiet satisfaction in her work showed through—were when Izuku felt the deepest appreciation for her.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but paused, unsure if he should push his initial question. The subject of her projects always brought Y/n out of her shell, and for a moment, he just wanted to let her have this space. He could always ask about her plans later. For now, it was enough to see her in her element, the snowy world outside a silent witness to their long-standing friendship.

Izuku’s smile faltered slightly as he leaned back against the workbench, his eyes drifting toward the snowy window. His mind wandered back to a conversation he’d had a few weeks ago, one that still felt a little uneasy to him. He had been talking to Bakugo about hero gear, as he often did. The topic had come up because Bakugo was complaining—again—about his mechanic, Hatsune, becoming more and more difficult to work with.

“She’s becoming way too crazy for me,” Bakugo had growled, arms crossed over his chest. “Can’t get anything right. I need someone who knows what they’re doing and doesn’t slow me down.”

Izuku had mentioned Y/n then—how she specialized in high-tech gear for top-tier heroes, how she had worked on everything from mobility suits to combat weapons. He’d never seen someone so passionate and skilled in her field. Her genius with design was unmatched, and he knew Bakugo needed someone like her.

"I can ask Y/n," Izuku had said, feeling a little apprehensive even then. "She works with some of the top heroes, and she's great with custom gear. I think she'd be perfect for you."

Bakugo’s eyes had narrowed, his face skeptical at first. But then he’d grunted, “Fine, do it. Get her to take a look at my gear. I need someone I can trust, not some idiot who can’t get it right.”

Izuku had left the conversation feeling a strange mix of guilt and responsibility, unsure how to approach Y/n with the idea. He’d been coming to her for years with requests—whether it was advice, help with his own gear, or the occasional favor—and each time, she’d told him that she didn’t mind. But this time, this felt different. Bakugo was... well, Bakugo. His strong personality, his need for control, and his lack of patience for anything that didn’t fit his vision made Izuku nervous.

He had always admired how Y/n managed her work with grace and precision, but introducing her to Bakugo seemed like a different kind of challenge. Would she even want to deal with him? Would Bakugo be able to respect her process, or would his brash attitude drive her away?

Izuku cleared his throat, drawing Y/n’s attention back to him. “Actually,” he began, his voice a little more hesitant than he intended, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, noticing the shift in his demeanor. “What’s up?”

Izuku hesitated for a moment longer before pushing the thought forward. “So, I mentioned you to Bakugo a while ago… about your work with high-tech gear, and... well, he needs a new mechanic.”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed just slightly, catching the tension in his voice. “Bakugo Katsuki?” she asked, already piecing things together.

“Yeah...” Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, his nerves making him feel awkward despite his usual confidence. “He’s been having trouble with his current mechanic. Hatsune’s just... not cutting it for him anymore. So, he asked me to find someone better, and I thought of you.”

Y/n let out a long, thoughtful sigh, leaning back against the workbench with her arms crossed. “So, you want me to work with him?” Her tone wasn’t cold, but there was a certain wariness to it.

Izuku nodded slowly. “I know you don’t usually take on a lot of requests from other heroes, but Bakugo… he’s not like other people. He’s... intense. But he respects people who can get the job done. And you could really help him, Y/n."

Y/n paused, her eyes distant for a moment as she thought it over. She’d worked with plenty of demanding heroes in the past—each with their own quirks and preferences—but Bakugo was a different breed entirely. His overwhelming pride and stubbornness were legendary, and his ability to alienate those around him was almost as impressive as his power.

"I’m not sure..." she said quietly, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "I know you trust him, Izuku, but Bakugo’s not exactly known for being... easy to work with."

Izuku chuckled nervously, scratching his head. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it. He’s a bit of a handful, but he doesn’t mean anything by it. Once he knows someone can deliver, he’ll actually start listening. It’s just... the first impression can be a lot.”

Y/n glanced at him, a mixture of hesitation and curiosity in her eyes. “And you really think I’m the right fit for him?”

“I think you’re the only one who could keep up with him,” Izuku said, trying to sound convincing. “He needs someone who can handle his... unique personality and still give him the gear he needs. You’re the best at what you do, and I know he’s looking for someone who can be as precise as you are.”

There was a silence as Y/n thought it over, her gaze flickering between Izuku and the scattered tools in front of her. Finally, she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Alright, I’ll think about it. But if I do this, it’s going to be on my terms. No exceptions. I don’t want to hear complaints about my methods.”

Izuku smiled, relieved. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Thanks, Y/n. I know Bakugo’s not the easiest guy to deal with, but... he really needs this.”

Y/n gave a small shrug, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “If it’ll help him, I’ll make it work. But if he starts pushing my buttons too much, I’m not afraid to put him in his place.”

Izuku chuckled, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over him. “I know you can handle it. I’ll tell him you’ll take him on, and then... I guess we’ll see how it goes.”

As he spoke, the snow continued to fall outside, blanketing the world in soft white silence. Izuku couldn’t help but feel a little lighter knowing that Y/n had agreed, even if it was with some reservations. Bakugo’s need for a new mechanic would finally be addressed, and, maybe, just maybe, this December would bring a new kind of challenge—not just for Bakugo, but for the complicated dynamic that was starting to form between Y/n and the explosive hero.

Izuku noticed the slight skepticism in Y/n’s expression as she thought about Bakugo. She’d never met him before, only hearing about him through Izuku’s long, often exaggerated stories about his explosive friend. Of course, she had seen Bakugo on TV plenty of times—his rise through the hero ranks, his explosive battles, his notorious temper—it had always seemed like a whirlwind to her. From her perspective, Bakugo’s entire existence sometimes seemed like a bit of a silly spectacle.

But then again, she knew how much Bakugo meant to Izuku. His loyalty to Bakugo was unwavering, and Y/n had always admired that. Despite how different they were, Izuku’s stories about Bakugo painted a picture of someone who was fiercely determined, though often misunderstood. Y/n didn’t mind hearing Izuku go on and on about him. It was a bit of a routine between them. She would continue working on whatever project she had at the time, her hands moving with practiced precision, while Izuku sat nearby, spilling out his thoughts on anything and everything.

Most of the time, their conversations flowed like this: Izuku would tell stories about his days at U.A., how Aizawa was doing with his prosthetic leg, how Eri was adjusting to life with the other students. But it was Bakugo who often dominated their talks.

Izuku would talk about their childhood—about how they had grown up together, how their rivalry had been something that shaped both of them. He would talk about how Bakugo had always been stubborn, but deep down, he had a heart that cared more than he let on. Y/n would only half-listen at times, her focus mostly on the tasks in front of her—whether it was tuning up some gear or designing a new piece for a client. The rhythm of the work was comforting. It allowed her mind to wander, to let Izuku’s words fill the space between each stroke of her tool.

But now, the conversation had shifted. Izuku, clearly sensing that Y/n was not quite sure about the whole Bakugo situation, had backed off for the moment. He didn’t want to push too hard, especially after seeing the thoughtful look in her eyes. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel pressured or uncomfortable with the idea of working with someone she had never met in person.

"Anyway," Izuku said, his voice a bit lighter now, "what’s new with your projects? Anything I can help with?"

Y/n blinked, the shift in focus pulling her back into the present. She looked at Izuku, her brow furrowing slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You always want to help with something," she teased lightly, but there was no real malice behind it. She paused for a moment, thinking of the different projects on her plate. "I’ve been designing some new mobility gear for some of the higher-tier heroes. They’re looking for something lighter but still able to take a hit. It’s been a bit tricky, but I think I’ve got something coming along."

Izuku nodded enthusiastically, his interest piqued. "Sounds interesting! What kind of specs are you going for? Are they focusing on speed or protection, or both?"

Y/n leaned back, stretching slightly before sitting down on the stool nearby. "Both, actually. But the challenge is making it flexible enough for agility while still being tough enough to handle combat situations. I think I’ve figured out how to balance both with the right kind of material, but it’s still a work in progress."

Izuku’s eyes sparkled with admiration. "That’s exactly why you’re the best at what you do, Y/n. You think of every detail. Most people would just focus on one or the other, but you always find a way to make it work."

Y/n’s cheeks flushed a little at the compliment, though she quickly deflected it with a shrug. "It’s just about understanding the needs of the person using the gear. Everyone fights differently, and every hero has different requirements. It’s all about finding that balance."

Izuku chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I’ve learned that the hard way with my own gear."

Y/n laughed softly. "I remember that. You always came to me with a million things wrong with your suits. You really do like to push things to the limit."

"Well, that’s what being a hero is about, right? Pushing your limits?" Izuku replied with his usual enthusiasm, though there was a hint of self-awareness in his tone.

Y/n smiled, shaking her head. "True, true. I just have to make sure you don’t push my limits too much. You’re lucky I like working on your gear."

"I know, I know," Izuku said with a grin. "I’m very lucky."

As their conversation continued, the earlier tension surrounding Bakugo seemed to dissipate, at least for the moment. Izuku let the topic drift for now, content to focus on the things that truly mattered in this moment—their shared love for hero gear, their long-standing friendship, and the mutual respect they had for each other's abilities.

The sounds of the holiday music outside continued to float in through the windows, mingling with the soft hum of the workbench, as the two of them settled into a comfortable silence, the kind that only came from years of understanding each other. The snow outside continued to fall, blanketing the world in soft, peaceful quiet, as the day drifted on.

Izuku leaned back slightly, watching as Y/n continued working, her hands moving with purpose, but her eyes still sharp as she worked through each task. After a moment of thought, he asked, “You ever think about moving to a bigger workshop? I mean, with the amount of high-ranking heroes you’ve worked for, you’ve got enough money to pretty much be considered rich. And you always get paid well for your work. I bet you could have a bigger, fancier place somewhere else. Maybe somewhere with better facilities.”

Y/n paused for a moment, her tools held still as she glanced up at him, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She didn’t immediately answer, instead looking out the window as the soft hum of the shop and the occasional sounds of children playing outside filled the space between them.

“I’ve thought about it,” she said finally, her voice calm. “But no, I don’t want to move.”

Izuku blinked in surprise, raising an eyebrow. “Really? I would’ve thought the idea of working in a bigger place would appeal to you. I mean, you’re practically a legend with how much work you get. You could have everything—state-of-the-art tools, a giant workshop with a team of people to assist you.”

She shook her head lightly, her expression thoughtful. “I like it here. This place, the people around me—it’s... peaceful. I get to watch the kids outside my window, running around in the snow with their toys. I see the plant beds outside, covered in snow, and the way the neighbors always drop by with little treats or just to say hello. They’re always kind to me, and that matters. It keeps me grounded. This place is... part of why I work well.”

Izuku’s gaze softened as he listened, understanding what she meant. Y/n had always been someone who didn’t need the glitz and glamour of fame or fortune. Her work spoke for itself, but she found satisfaction in the smaller things. She didn’t crave luxury or recognition—she simply wanted to create, to help, and to be a part of her community in a way that made her feel at home.

“Sometimes I think I could place myself anywhere, and it wouldn’t be the same,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper now, as if sharing a quiet truth. “I need this environment, these people, these sounds. They help me stay focused. If I went to a fancier place, I’d lose that.”

Izuku couldn’t help but smile at her grounded perspective. He had always admired how self-aware Y/n was, how she never let external expectations sway her from her own path. She wasn’t driven by fame or money. She was driven by her own passion for her work, her connection to the world around her.

He thought back to when he was 19, when he first met Y/n. Back then, he had been struggling with his own sense of self, unsure about his future as a hero, unsure of his place in the world. Meeting Y/n had been a turning point for him. She had shown him that it was okay to be rooted, to take time and build something meaningful. He was grateful—grateful that he had met her when he did.

“I’m glad you don’t feel the need to change,” Izuku said softly, the sincerity in his words clear. “You’re happy here, and that’s what matters most. And besides, I don’t think you’d be you if you went somewhere else.”

Y/n’s eyes softened at his words, a small smile appearing on her lips as she met his gaze. “I guess that’s true. I like who I am here, surrounded by the things that make me happy. But enough about me. What about you? You’ve been traveling all over the place lately, huh? Any exciting stories from your hero work?”

Izuku chuckled, grateful for the change in topic. "Well, actually... there’s been a lot happening in the last couple of weeks. I’ve been working on a new suit, and—"

As he continued, Y/n listened with that same patient attention she always gave him, her focus divided between the work in front of her and the conversation they shared. The snowfall outside continued, gently covering the world in white, while inside, the warmth of their friendship filled the room.

Izuku smiled quietly to himself as he spoke, thinking back on everything that had brought them to this moment. He couldn’t have asked for a better friend, and he knew, deep down, that meeting Y/n had been one of the best things that had ever happened to him. And though their paths had been different, and their worlds often felt far apart, moments like this—when they could simply sit together, talking about life—reminded him of how much they both needed this. The peace, the balance, the understanding. It was the foundation of their friendship, and he would never take it for granted.

As the conversation between Izuku and Y/n continued, the atmosphere in the workshop remained warm and easy. They were deep into discussing the latest projects Y/n had been working on, the gentle hum of the machines in the background blending with the soft holiday music floating in from outside. The snow had continued falling in thick flurries, and the quiet of the outside world mirrored the calm between the two of them.

But just as the conversation reached a lull, Izuku’s phone buzzed on the workbench with an urgent ring, cutting through the peaceful atmosphere. He glanced down at the screen, his expression immediately shifting into one of concern. It was a call from the agency.

"Sorry, I need to take this," he said, standing up quickly, his usual calm demeanor slipping into one of focus as he answered the call. "Midoriya speaking."

Y/n watched him, her gaze flicking to his tense posture as he moved a little further away, listening intently to whatever was being said on the other end of the line. She could hear the snippets of conversation as Izuku responded, his voice low but urgent, his brow furrowing as he processed the information.

"Right, I’ll be there ASAP," he said, ending the call with a quick click of his tongue. He turned back to her, his expression more serious now.

"I’m really sorry, Y/n," he apologized, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and quickly slipping it on. "Something’s come up, I have to go. A situation with one of the heroes—there’s a report of a villain attack. They need me to go on standby, so I’ll have to cut this visit short."

Y/n nodded, understanding without needing any further explanation. "Go ahead. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine here."

Izuku hesitated for a moment, clearly not wanting to leave her alone in the workshop, but he knew there was no time to waste. "Thanks for understanding. I’ll make it up to you next time."

Y/n gave him a small, reassuring smile. "No problem, Izuku. I’m used to working alone anyway." She gestured to the room around her, already resettling herself by the workbench as if the absence of his company wouldn’t disrupt her rhythm.

Izuku smiled back, albeit with a tinge of guilt. "Take care, Y/n. I’ll be in touch later. Let me know if you need anything."

With one last glance in her direction, Izuku hurried out of the workshop, leaving Y/n alone amidst the clutter of tools, sketches, and unfinished projects. The door closed behind him with a soft click, and for a moment, the quiet of the workshop seemed to grow a little heavier. The sound of the snow outside was muffled by the thick windows, and the holiday music faintly filtered through the glass from the street below.

Y/n’s eyes briefly lingered on the door for a second longer, before she shook her head, returning her focus to the task at hand. It wasn’t the first time she’d been left to her work in silence, and it wouldn’t be the last. Still, as much as she valued her solitude, a part of her felt the absence of Izuku’s calming presence. She could feel the small void left behind, but it was a feeling she quickly dismissed as she got back to work.

With practiced hands, she began to sort through her designs, pulling out blueprints for the current project. The hum of the machines, the occasional scrape of metal against metal, and the soft, rhythmic clicks of her tools returned to fill the space, grounding her once again in the quiet of her work.

The day outside continued to darken, the snow falling heavier now, but inside the workshop, it felt timeless.

Y/n’s workshop was a perfect reflection of her: functional, organized, and filled with small details that gave it a unique, personal touch. The main area of the workshop had high ceilings and large windows that allowed plenty of natural light to flood the space during the day, illuminating the various workstations and scattered tools. Despite the organized chaos of the room—papers strewn about, designs pinned to the wall, and parts of unfinished hero gear—it all somehow felt purposeful, each piece contributing to the greater whole of her work.

The walls were lined with shelves that held materials of every kind—metal sheets, wires, and tech parts, all sorted and labeled meticulously. The large central workbench dominated the space, covered with blueprints, half-finished projects, and tools that were always within arm’s reach. Next to the workbench was a smaller table where she would assemble smaller components, usually scattered with tiny screws, wires, and the occasional tool she would use in intricate designs.

On the far wall, a section of the space was dedicated to machines and testing equipment—some for stress testing the gear she designed, others for fine-tuning prototypes. There was a section for 3D printers, a soldering station, and an area where she would run diagnostics on newly built gadgets. A few monitors were set up here as well, displaying various projects and progress on her latest designs.

Beyond the main room, there were three rooms that led off into the back.

The bathroom was tucked away on the far left. It was simple but well-kept, with just enough space for essentials and a tiny window that let in natural light, though it was mostly used as a quick retreat when Y/n needed a break from her work.

Next to it was the storage room for tools that didn’t fit in the main area. Large, sturdy cabinets were filled with drills, screwdrivers, hammers, and other equipment that she didn’t use as frequently. There were shelves above that held spare parts for gadgets and the odd prototype or two that she wasn’t yet ready to put in the main area.

The long-term project room was located at the back of the workshop, where Y/n would store the larger, more complex projects she wasn’t actively working on. Some of the space was taken up by prototype suits in various stages of completion—half-finished designs that required careful planning and long hours to perfect. The room was meticulously organized, as Y/n hated clutter, but it had a more clinical feel to it, compared to the organized chaos of the main area.

At the back of the room, a narrow staircase led upward, the steps creaking faintly beneath her feet. The upper floor was an area that offered more privacy and quiet, a stark contrast to the lively hum of the workshop below. The bedroom was at the top of the stairs, small but cozy, with a large bed by the window and shelves filled with books, sketchpads, and old journals. There was a sense of calm here that made it the perfect place for her to recharge after long hours of work. The walls were adorned with various technical blueprints and framed photos of heroes she admired, and on the nightstand next to the bed was a small plant that added a touch of life to the room.

Beside the bedroom, however, there was a second room that she had yet to figure out what to do with. It was a small, undecorated space—nothing more than bare walls, empty shelves, and the occasional discarded item. It had been empty for a while, and Y/n hadn’t found a purpose for it yet. Perhaps it would one day hold more work materials, or maybe it would become a small personal space for herself outside of her work. For now, though, it remained unused, just another blank canvas in the sea of activity that was her life.

The entire workshop felt like a sanctuary to her—each room designed with purpose, each space contributing to the calm efficiency of her work. It wasn’t just a place for tools and projects; it was her home, her heart, and a tangible reflection of her dedication to her craft. As the day outside grew darker and the snow continued to fall, Y/n returned to the main room, feeling at peace among the clutter, her hands instinctively reaching for the next task.

As the hours passed, the workshop became a warm sanctuary amidst the growing chill outside. The light inside was soft and comforting, the candles she had lit casting a gentle glow that danced against the cluttered walls. She had been so focused on her work that she didn’t even notice the change in the light, the sky slowly darkening outside as the night settled in. The workshop was still full of life—her tools, half-finished designs, and the various pieces of gear she had scattered across the workbench—but her attention was entirely absorbed by the task in front of her: creating a new piece of hero gear for Red Riot, Eijiro Kirishima.

She had been at it for hours, tweaking the design and fine-tuning every detail of the new suit, adjusting the fit, the layers, the protective tech, and the durability for his quirk. She had always admired Kirishima's unwavering sense of bravery and his dedication to his hero work. His gear had to be as strong and dependable as he was. She’d spent countless hours designing and perfecting the reinforced armor plates, the texture, and the mobility—making sure that the suit would enhance his natural durability while not impeding his explosive, close-quarters fighting style.

By the time she finished the last stitch, her hair had come undone from its messy bun and hung loosely around her face, which was smudged with grease from hours of constant work. Her clothes were wrinkled, sleeves rolled up, and her hands were covered in a mix of oil, ink, and the remnants of materials she had been handling. Though she was a mess in appearance, it suited her in a way. It was a reflection of the intensity and dedication she poured into every project, every piece of gear she created. She didn’t mind it. In fact, it was comforting. It meant she had been focused—fully immersed in the work she loved. She couldn't care less that her hair was a little wild and her face was smeared with the evidence of her labor.

The candles on her workbench flickered softly, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon filling the air. The small lights she’d strung across the ceiling cast a cozy glow that added to the ambiance, giving the room a festive, almost magical feel. Outside, the world had fully transitioned into evening. The streetlights gleamed brightly, each one wrapped with red and green fairy lights, lighting up the street like little stars. Her shop’s window was aglow, and the soft light spilled out onto the sidewalk, making the whole street feel like it was dressed for the season. Her little bell, which jingled every time someone entered her workshop, was adorned with a small red bow, adding a final touch of holiday cheer.

Through the window, she could see the street bustling with people, each bundled in thick scarves and coats as they roamed the festive streets. The crowd had grown in size over the past few hours, many of them exchanging treats, shopping at local vendors, or simply strolling with loved ones. A group of children had gathered near the center of the block, their laughter filling the air as they watched the massive Christmas tree being decorated with ornaments and twinkling lights. The whole scene had a sense of magic and togetherness that warmed her heart as she watched, her gaze softening as she let herself get lost in the festive atmosphere.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had paused long enough to enjoy something so simple—the sight of people gathered around, smiling and enjoying each other’s company. It reminded her of how important these moments of peace and joy were, even in a world so filled with chaos. Her eyes lingered on the scene, taking in the bright lights of the tree, the colorful displays in the windows of neighboring shops, and the way the snow shimmered in the distance as it continued to fall softly against the street.

Her thoughts drifted as she finished wrapping up Kirishima’s new gear, the final piece carefully placed in the box. She pulled out her phone, her fingers sliding over the screen to type out a message to him. The thought of his big, enthusiastic grin when he picked up the suit made her smile a little to herself.

“Hey Kirishima, your gear’s ready for pickup whenever you are. Just let me know when you’re free! —Y/n”

She typed out the message, but before hitting send, she paused. She had always felt a bit awkward when it came to communicating with her clients outside of work, though Kirishima was different. He was always kind and appreciative, and she had enjoyed working with him over the years. Still, she lingered over the message for a moment longer than necessary, contemplating whether to add a little something extra. Something more personal. Maybe a quick note about the weather, or the Christmas tree in the square?

She sighed softly, No. Just send it. She quickly hit “send,” feeling a rush of relief once it was done.

The quiet of the evening settled back into the workshop, and the faint sounds of the street outside returned to her ears. She turned back to the room, taking a final glance around at the organized chaos she had created. The clutter, the half-finished designs, the smell of wax and grease—it was all part of the environment that made her feel at home.

As she moved to put away the tools scattered across the bench, she caught one last glimpse of the scene outside—children running beneath the lights, families exchanging gifts, and the huge tree casting its glow over the neighborhood. For a moment, everything felt in place, and she allowed herself to relax into the peace of the moment, knowing she had done good work, and the holidays were here to remind her of life beyond the grind.

December was always a whirlwind for Y/n. It was the one month of the year when everything seemed to shift into high gear. The streets outside her shop would become busier, the sound of footsteps and excited chatter filling the air as the holiday season descended upon the city. But for Y/n, December was not just about the holidays—it was the month when the majority of heroes in Japan scrambled to fit themselves into her already-packed schedule.

The end of the year was always the busiest time for most pro heroes. They had to complete their last missions before taking time off for the holidays, and many of them needed adjustments, repairs, or entirely new gear for the new year. It was a crucial time when their equipment had to be fine-tuned or revamped, and no one was more in demand than Y/n. Her reputation had spread far and wide, and no one was better at designing high-tech, battle-ready gear than her.

Every year, it seemed, more heroes came to her, and every year, she had to scramble to keep up with the influx of requests. The inbox on her phone would fill up with urgent messages, often from heroes in desperate need of gear before a mission. Pro heroes like Red Riot, Ingenium, Froppy, and even Gran Torino had been known to slide into her DMs, trying to carve out a time to meet. Each request was important to her, and she made it her mission to fulfill them all—no matter how hectic her days became.

It wasn’t just the high-ranking pros either. Sometimes young up-and-comers would reach out too, seeking advice or help with building their own custom gear. But the pros were always the priority. She’d never turn down a request, and while the workload could sometimes feel suffocating, she always found herself excited to tackle the challenge. Every new design pushed her to think harder, be more creative, and solve problems in ways no one else could. It was exhausting but exhilarating, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

It had been this way for years, ever since she started her career as a gear designer. In fact, December was the only time of year she ever visited Mustafu, and every time she did, the city seemed to draw her in a little more. While the snow-covered streets, the festive decorations, and the bustling crowds were all part of the charm, it was the heroes themselves that kept her tethered to this place. She’d built a life here—a life that was always filled with problem-solving, challenges, and the satisfaction of creating something that helped keep the people of Japan safe.

As she worked long hours during the month of December, the little details of the holiday season often became the background to her chaotic schedule. The occasional carol or the soft jingle of the bell on her door when a customer entered would remind her that, while she was surrounded by the rush of work, there was also something more joyful, more serene, happening just outside. It was a delicate balance between the frantic pace of creating new gear and the sense of calm that came with watching the world outside transform into something beautiful for the holidays.

She didn’t mind the busyness, though. In fact, she thrived in it. It felt good to be needed, to know that her work was essential to the safety and success of those fighting for the greater good. December, with all its chaos, was also the time when she felt most alive. But it also reminded her of how quickly time passed—the days became a blur of designs, measurements, and last-minute requests, and before she knew it, the year would end.

But for now, Y/n focused on the task at hand. As the snow continued to fall outside and the Christmas lights twinkled on the streets, she settled back into her routine, fully immersed in her work. She knew there were many more requests coming her way, and many more late nights ahead of her—but that was just part of her life during December, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

~~~

Bakugo sat in his dimly lit apartment, staring out the window at the snow falling outside. The muffled sounds of the city echoed faintly from below, but he wasn’t really paying attention. His mind was elsewhere, revolving around one thing—Y/n L/n.

His phone sat in his hand, and he clenched it tightly, barely containing his impatience. He had been thinking about this for weeks, wondering if it was even worth bothering her. He hadn’t seen her in person yet, but after hearing Midoriya talk about her for so long, there was no denying the intrigue. She was the best at what she did, and that’s exactly what he needed—the best. His old mechanic, Hatsune, had been getting more erratic with each passing year. And Bakugo didn’t have time for a screw-up; he needed his new gear for the upcoming missions and the adjustments to his current tech. No more messing around.

The phone in his hand buzzed, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked at the screen—Midoriya—and pressed the green button without hesitation.

“What is it, Deku?” Bakugo growled, his voice as sharp as ever. He didn’t waste time on pleasantries.

“Hey, Bakugo,” Izuku replied on the other end of the line, his voice warm as always, even though he knew Bakugo’s impatience was palpable. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Y/n. I’ve set everything up for you—she’s agreed to meet with you. You just have to contact her to set a time.”

Bakugo grunted in response, rubbing his forehead in annoyance. “I don’t need you to babysit me, Midoriya. I can set the damn thing up myself.”

Izuku chuckled lightly, the sound more of a sigh than anything. “I know you can. I just thought it might be easier to get things started since you’ve been hesitant to reach out directly.”

“‘Hesitant’?” Bakugo snorted, his voice rising with the familiar frustration he felt whenever anyone pointed out his reluctance. “I’m not hesitant. I just—” he cut himself off, shaking his head in annoyance. It wasn’t like him to admit to being unsure about something, especially when it came to reaching out for help. He always took care of things on his own. He didn’t need anyone’s help, not even from someone as damn good as Y/n.

Midoriya could practically hear the internal struggle in Bakugo’s voice. He didn’t press it, though. He knew his friend wasn’t the type to admit when he was in over his head. Instead, he tried to steer the conversation back. “She’s amazing, Bakugo. Trust me, you’re in good hands. She works on gear for top pros all the time. You’ve heard me talk about her before, right?”

Bakugo grumbled under his breath, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah, I’ve heard you go on and on about her. Genius this, genius that. She’s the best at fixing everything, blah blah blah.” He mimicked Izuku’s voice as he spoke, his tone dripping with sarcastic humor. “I don’t need to hear it again.”

“Yeah, but... you are going to meet her, right? I mean, you can’t exactly keep putting it off forever. You’ve been saying you need new gear for a while now, and she’s the one who can help. If you want a solid suit, you should meet with her soon.”

Bakugo paused, considering this. He knew it wasn’t just the suit that was holding him back. It was more than that. This wasn’t like his usual, straightforward upgrades. This was someone new. Someone who, despite being a genius in her field, wasn’t someone he had a history with, wasn’t someone who he could just bark orders at and get things done. Y/n was a different kind of person—one who demanded respect, not just because of her skills, but because of the way she carried herself.

“I know. I know,” Bakugo muttered finally, rubbing his neck with his free hand, his frustration turning inward. “I just... I don’t like asking for help, okay?"

Izuku’s voice softened. “I get it, Bakugo. But Y/n isn’t like Hatsune. She’s the kind of person who makes things happen. You won’t regret it. She works with some of the highest-ranked heroes, and she’s one of the best at what she does. You’ll be in good hands.”

Bakugo let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll call her... but you better not tell anyone I needed your help setting it up.”

“Of course,” Izuku agreed with a laugh. “I promise. It’s between us.”

“Good. Now, get outta here, nerd.” Bakugo hung up before Izuku could say another word, tossing the phone down onto the couch beside him. His brow furrowed as he leaned back in his chair, his thoughts swirling around the upcoming meeting.

He wasn’t sure what he expected from Y/n. All he knew was that she had the skills to make him unstoppable, and for someone like Bakugo, that was everything. But meeting her... well, that was something else. Would she be as cold as her reputation suggested, or would she just get down to business, no-nonsense like him? He didn’t know. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to let himself back out of it. Not when he needed her.

“I’m not asking for a favor,” he muttered to himself, his usual scowl twisting his features. “I’m just making a damn appointment.”

Bakugo scowled as he leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping impatiently on the armrest. He wasn’t a patient person. He didn’t have time for slow-moving relationships or delicate negotiations. And that’s exactly what this felt like. The last thing he wanted was to screw it up like he did with Hatsume. She had been good—okay good—at making his gear, but she was erratic, unpredictable, and the constant chaos she brought with her was something Bakugo just couldn’t deal with anymore. The final straw had been when she had tried to alter his gauntlets to make them "more experimental," without consulting him. It was a disaster. He had spent weeks fixing the mess she'd made, and it had thrown off his entire schedule.

No, Y/n was different. From what Izuku told him, she was highly sought after by pro heroes and specialized in creating high-tech, custom gear—precisely the kind of gear he needed. And from what Izuku had said, she was serious about her work, no-nonsense. She didn’t tolerate wasting time, and that was exactly the kind of person Bakugo respected. He didn’t want a frilly, touchy-feely process with her. He didn’t want to make small talk or find some "special bond" like Izuku seemed to have with her. He didn’t need a friend—he needed a professional. He wanted the best, and that was Y/n.

But that’s what made it so hard. He didn’t know how to do this. He couldn’t approach her like he did with the others—bark out his request and get on with it. She wasn’t someone who’d respond well to his usual “tough guy” routine. She wasn’t Hatsume. From what he knew, she was calm, calculated, and all business. If he wanted to get her to take him seriously and make him the gear he needed, he would have to not screw it up. He’d have to be careful... and that thought made his stomach twist.

The thing that made it harder was that Y/n was also Izuku’s friend, and Bakugo couldn’t help but feel a little... weird about that. Midoriya was the one person who seemed to get along with everyone. The guy had this natural ability to make connections, to nurture relationships, something Bakugo never had the patience for. He didn’t know how to "bond" with people. To him, the whole process was a waste of time. But with Y/n? That was different. He couldn’t afford to just barge in, demanding what he needed and then walking away. That kind of attitude might’ve worked with other people, but it wouldn’t work with her. He had to tread carefully.

And that pissed him off.

“So what?” Bakugo muttered under his breath, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. “I’m supposed to... be nice? Talk to her about her stupid gear until we’re best buddies? I don’t have time for that crap.”

But deep down, he knew that if he didn’t play this right, he wouldn’t get anywhere. If he came at her like he did with Hatsume, all brash and rude, there was a chance she’d just turn him away. And then he’d be stuck, trying to fix things on his own—just like before.

Taking a deep breath, Bakugo reached for his phone, staring at the screen for a long moment before dialing Y/n’s number. His fingers hovered over the screen, his thoughts racing. He hated this. He hated that he had to make another appointment, another meeting, another careful exchange of words just to make sure he didn’t sound like a total jackass.

He could feel his pulse quicken as the phone rang. “Get it together, you idiot,” he muttered, gritting his teeth.

The phone continued to ring. He wasn’t sure what he was even going to say when she picked up. Something simple, probably. Something like, Hey, I need you to fix my gear. But even that felt too much like the usual Bakugo approach—too direct, too harsh. He wasn’t sure how to make the request sound more... respectful. More professional. If he was going to do this right, he couldn’t go in all guns blazing.

“C’mon, pick up...” Bakugo’s frustration mounted as the ringing continued. His mind kept circling back to the same question: What the hell am I supposed to say to her?

Finally, the phone clicked.

"Hello, this is Y/n."

Her voice was calm, collected. The kind of voice Bakugo hadn’t expected to hear. No snarky attitude, no annoyance—it was just business.

"Yeah," Bakugo started, trying to keep his voice steady, but his natural abrasiveness still slipped through. "I’m Bakugo Katsuki. Midoriya told you I’d be calling. I need my gear fixed... and I want it done right."

He could hear the pause on the other end of the line. Y/n didn’t immediately respond, which only made Bakugo’s nerves flare up. Was she annoyed? Was she going to turn him down?

"Alright," she said finally, her tone even, measured. "What’s the issue?"

It was simple, no-nonsense. And that was exactly what Bakugo needed. He took a breath and launched into the details of his gear—what needed tweaking, what had malfunctioned, and what he needed for the upcoming season. His words came more easily now that the initial awkwardness had passed. As he spoke, he realized he was relieved. Y/n wasn’t the type to deal with his temper. She was someone who got straight to the point, which meant he didn’t have to pretend to be anything else. He could just be himself—short, blunt, and direct.

And that, strangely enough, was exactly what he needed.

The phone call hung in the air between them, a slight tension threading through the silence as Bakugo gathered his thoughts. Y/n’s voice on the other end of the line was calm and professional, and it gave Bakugo an odd sense of reassurance. For once, he didn’t have to worry about unnecessary pleasantries. This wasn’t some small-time mechanic; this was Y/n L/n, one of the best in the business, and he didn’t have time for any mess-ups.

“Alright,” Y/n said, her voice smooth but firm. “What seems to be the problem?”

Bakugo exhaled sharply, not hesitating. "I need my gear adjusted. The gauntlets are fine, but they're starting to wear down. The propulsion system’s malfunctioning, too. Can't get the proper boost anymore."

Her response was instant. "That sounds like a problem with the wiring. Could be the energy core too. Anything else?"

Bakugo ground his teeth, trying to keep his irritation in check. She wasn’t sounding like she was judging him—just asking the right questions. It was professional, straightforward, and it caught him off guard. He expected more... resistance or maybe even a little sarcasm. But instead, it felt like a business transaction, and for once, he appreciated it.

"The gauntlet's shield mode is also starting to glitch. It's not holding up under pressure. I’ve had some issues with that before, but now it’s worse," he added, his tone more clipped now as he went down the list. "And I need something a bit more... advanced for my upcoming missions. I’m thinking something to enhance the explosion output."

"Got it," she replied, her voice never wavering, no hint of surprise at his demands. "I'll need to take a look at the damage in person. Could you bring everything by the shop tomorrow around noon?"

Bakugo paused at the mention of "shop." He had heard a lot about her workshop from Izuku, but now that he was here—actually talking to her—he didn’t know what to expect. Would it be some quiet little place, cluttered with tools and parts? Or would it be more... organized than he imagined?

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to stay focused. “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll bring the gauntlets. I want everything checked—don’t leave anything out.”

“Understood,” she said without hesitation. “I’ll have time to go over it then. Anything else you want me to know about your gear before I start?"

Bakugo thought for a second. She wasn’t rushing him. She wasn’t acting like he was wasting her time, and that alone made him feel slightly less on edge.

"Uh, I guess..." he trailed off for a moment, frowning. "It’s gotta be stronger. Faster. I don’t need a ton of useless gimmicks or flashy upgrades. Just solid performance. Something to handle my attacks without failing halfway through."

Y/n’s voice came through again, steady and sure. "I understand. I’ll make sure everything is tailored to your fighting style. No frills, just raw power."

For the first time during their conversation, Bakugo allowed himself to feel a bit of relief. That was exactly what he wanted. He wasn’t here for anything fancy—just the best of the best, no fluff. The thought of someone understanding that so quickly was almost comforting, which irritated him slightly. He wasn’t used to this calm, methodical approach. But it was working.

"Alright," Bakugo grunted, getting back to business. "I’ll see you tomorrow at noon, then. Don’t waste my time."

"Won’t be a problem," she replied smoothly. "See you then, Bakugo."

And with that, the line went quiet as Bakugo hung up. His fingers were still tight around the phone, but this time, it wasn’t out of frustration—it was because he had, against all his instincts, actually felt like he could trust her. And maybe that was the hardest part of all.

For someone like Bakugo, trust wasn’t easily earned. But from the way she handled their conversation—calm, to the point, no unnecessary chatter—Y/n was the kind of person who got things done. That was what he needed.

He just hoped that tomorrow would go smoothly.

Bakugo stood in his apartment, staring down at his phone for a few long moments after hanging up. He had thought briefly about texting Midoriya, asking if he could offer any advice on how to not screw up his first in-person meeting with Y/n. But he quickly dismissed the idea. He wouldn’t give Deku the satisfaction of being right about their whole “bonding” nonsense. He didn’t need anyone telling him how to handle this. He’d figure it out on his own—like he always did.

With a frustrated grunt, Bakugo shoved his phone into his jacket pocket and stormed out of his apartment, slamming the door behind him. The cold air hit him immediately as he stepped out onto the snowy street. It was still early evening, and the last traces of daylight were fading from the sky, leaving only the soft glow of streetlights and the distant sparkle of holiday decorations.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and set off in the direction of her workshop. He didn’t want to walk in or do anything crazy, just wanted to scope the place out. Get a feel for it before he actually showed up tomorrow.

The streets were busy with people, most of them huddled together as they went about their evening shopping or gathering in groups, preparing for the upcoming holidays. The air smelled of fresh snow, candy, and food from the nearby vendors. People were exchanging holiday treats, laughing as they shared stories with one another. It was almost peaceful, and Bakugo hated how easy it was to feel... out of place.

But he didn’t care about that. He had a job to do. A mission to accomplish. And Y/n’s workshop was part of that. He needed to know what kind of person he was dealing with.

As he turned down the street, he spotted it. A small shop, tucked between two larger buildings, with a humble wooden sign hanging above the door that read Y/n L/n Hero Gear Design. The exterior was simple but inviting. Green leaves of mistletoe were carefully draped across the windows, and a few strands of fairy lights wrapped around the lamppost outside. A small red bow adorned the bell that hung above the door—probably the same bell he’d hear when he walked in tomorrow.

Bakugo lingered on the corner, his eyes scanning the scene. The shop was warm and cozy looking, its window fogged with the heat of the inside and glowing softly from the lights within. He could see the faint outline of a workbench through the window—tools scattered across it, some parts in mid-construction, half-finished prototypes lying around. The soft glow of candles illuminated the interior, giving it a comfortable, lived-in feel.

His eyes narrowed as he examined the details. The window was too fogged up to make out much more, but the simplicity of the shop was striking. It wasn’t some flashy place with expensive decorations or excessive tech gadgets. It looked like a place that was used for one thing: work. This was where people came to get serious gear designed, not to be coddled or pampered.

That, in itself, made Bakugo feel a bit more at ease. He didn’t need some fancy shop with a bunch of unnecessary perks. This was more like it—straightforward, no frills. He could respect that.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands clenched tightly in his pockets. He had no intention of walking in tonight. No need for that. He wasn’t here to make an impression or start small talk. He just needed to get a better look at the place.

He stood there for a while, watching through the window, noting the way the candles flickered in the dimming light and the faint hum of holiday music that seemed to float out into the street. The place felt... warm. Cozy. It felt like a space where someone worked tirelessly, and that was the vibe he needed.

After a few more minutes, Bakugo pulled his gaze away and turned around, heading back down the street. He didn’t need to see anything else. He had his answer. The next step was tomorrow—show up, drop off the gear, get it fixed. No need to complicate it.

But as he walked, his mind started to churn again. What was she like, really? Was she as no-nonsense as she sounded? Would she put up with his direct approach or shut him down the moment he said something too blunt? He didn’t have the answers yet, but by tomorrow, he’d find out.

For now, though, he was content with knowing exactly where he needed to be. The rest could wait.

~~~

The sound of the bell above her door echoed faintly through the quiet workshop, cutting through the ambient hum of the small candles that flickered on her workbench. Y/n's heart skipped for a moment as she quickly grabbed the towel tighter around her body, eyes darting towards the entrance. She had been so focused on finishing up her work on Red Riot’s gear that she had completely forgotten to lock the door.

With a quick glance to her window, she saw the faint snowfall continuing, blanketing the streets outside. The soft crunch of boots against the snow echoed through the building as the door creaked open, and Y/n tensed, ready to bolt upstairs to her bedroom. She didn’t need any unannounced visitors walking in while she was half-dressed.

But then she heard a familiar voice, followed by a giggle.

“Y/n! You’re in a towel again!” Eri’s voice rang through the space as the younger girl stepped inside, brushing snow off her shoulders as she entered. She was laughing softly, her breath misting in the cold air.

Y/n exhaled in relief and let out a frustrated sigh, letting her shoulders sag. “Eri! What did I tell you about knocking first?” she said, rolling her eyes as she walked toward the stairs.

Eri giggled and skipped over to the workbench, her boots leaving small, wet marks on the polished wood floor. “I knocked! But the door was open already!” she said with a smile that was both playful and mischievous. Her snow-dusted scarf hung loosely around her neck, her cheeks rosy from the cold, and her wide, curious eyes were filled with that familiar energy that made Y/n smile despite herself.

“Give me a second to change, okay?” Y/n grumbled, wrapping the towel tighter around her as she quickly ascended the stairs. She didn’t wait for a response as she disappeared into her room, quickly tossing on some old clothes that were comfortable enough to wear around the workshop but not too formal.

A few minutes later, Y/n emerged from upstairs, now in a white/tan tanktop and loose grey sweatpants that sat low on her waist. Her hair was still wet, tied back loosely in a messy ponytail, strands falling around her face as she made her way back down the stairs. Eri was still at the workbench, leaning over the table as she poked curiously at some of the small, scattered pieces of Red Riot’s gear.

"Is this Red Riot’s?" Eri asked, picking up a half-finished piece of the gauntlet and turning it over in her hands, examining it with interest. Y/n nodded as she approached, rubbing the back of her neck as she crossed the floor.

“Yeah, it is. He wanted a few adjustments, so I’ve been working on it all day. Almost done now,” Y/n replied, wiping her hands on the sides of her swestpants before coming over to help her put the piece down gently. "Careful with that, Eri. It’s delicate."

Eri grinned sheepishly and placed the part back on the workbench with a soft thud. "Sorry, I was just curious! It looks really cool though! I wanna be as good at making things as you someday," she said, her eyes full of admiration.

Y/n chuckled softly, leaning back against the counter as she watched Eri. “You’ll get there. I’m sure you’ll be better than me one day. But you’ve got to be patient. Don’t rush it,” Y/n advised. There was an edge to her voice, not harsh but firm. She had seen so many aspiring mechanics rush into things without thinking carefully first. Eri was smart, though—she had the talent, just needed some guidance.

Eri huffed and crossed her arms, pouting. “I’m 15 now! I’ve been begging Aizawa forever to let me come here by myself! He’s so protective, it’s dumb.” She dropped her gaze and kicked a small tool off the table with her foot. “But I’m older now, so he finally let me!”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she leaned against the workbench. “Aizawa finally gave in, huh? About time.” She smirked at the thought of Aizawa’s typical overprotective nature. He had always been like that with Eri. She knew he cared, but Y/n also knew Eri was capable of more than Aizawa often gave her credit for.

“He’s so annoying sometimes,” Eri groaned, shaking her head. “Like, I’m not a baby. I can come here without him hovering. I know how to handle myself.”

“Of course you do,” Y/n said with a smile, ruffling Eri’s hair as she leaned over the workbench. “But I bet he just worries, that’s all.”

Eri rolled her eyes dramatically, then returned to inspecting the various tools scattered around the workshop. “Still, it’s lame. But at least I finally get to see what you do up close. It’s awesome,” she said with another smile.

Y/n chuckled softly, enjoying the ease of their conversation. Despite the busy atmosphere of the workshop, Eri’s presence was a welcome distraction. Y/n wasn’t used to many people coming by—except for clients, of course—but Eri always brought a certain lightness with her. Maybe it was the way she always saw the world with wonder or how she found joy in the little things. It reminded Y/n that it wasn’t just the work that mattered, but the people you shared it with.

“Alright, alright,” Y/n said, pushing off from the counter and standing up straighter. “But I better not catch you touching any more parts without asking.” She smiled at Eri’s guilty expression, watching the younger girl nod dramatically.

“I promise! I’ll just watch you finish your work,” Eri said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just happy you’re letting me hang out here.”

Y/n smiled fondly, walking over to the workbench where the nearly finished gauntlet sat. "Well, I guess you’ve earned it. Just don’t go telling Aizawa I’m spoiling you, alright?" she said with a wink.

Eri giggled in response, her voice soft and content. “I won’t, I promise. Thanks, Y/n."

With that, the two fell into an easy silence, with only the sound of Y/n's tools clinking and the faint hum of candles filling the space between them. The snow continued to fall gently outside, its quiet beauty slipping unnoticed through the windows as the night deepened.

Y/n carefully affixed the last piece of Red Riot’s gear, attaching a sleek, polished plate to the side before finishing it off with a small red star right on top. It was a small touch, but it made the entire thing feel like a gift, something that would bring warmth to the hero, especially with the holidays just around the corner. The star shimmered against the light of the candles on her workbench, a tiny beacon of celebration amidst the mechanics and technical parts.

Eri had been watching her work the entire time, her eyes wide with fascination, her hands absentmindedly fidgeting with one of the tools on the table. She had always been captivated by Y/n’s skill, the way she seemed to move through the process with such ease and precision, as if she knew exactly what each part needed without hesitation.

“Everything you do is so cool, Y/n,” Eri finally said, breaking the quiet hum of the workshop. Y/n smiled at the younger girl’s admiration, knowing it came from a place of genuine curiosity and respect. Eri wasn’t quite a little kid anymore, though. She was 15 now—growing up and gaining more independence, even if it meant finding ways to get past the overprotective Aizawa.

Eri hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting around the room before landing back on Y/n. “Hey, could you maybe ask Shota if I could sleep over? He’s always said no! I’m 15 now, and plus, you're responsible. Just maybe if I could prove to him I could do it, maybe he’d let me sleep over with my friends for once. Please, Y/n?”

Y/n glanced at her, a soft laugh escaping her lips at the sheer pleading in Eri’s voice. She already knew how Aizawa could be. The man was about as stubborn as they came, especially when it came to Eri. But there was no denying how much the young girl had grown, and how much she wanted to experience things beyond the restrictions he constantly put on her.

Y/n sighed, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. She didn't want to get involved in something like this—it wasn't her business, after all. But she also knew the ways to approach Aizawa, the right words to say that might make him reconsider his rigid stance.

“Alright, alright. Fine,” Y/n said, her voice soft but firm. “But don’t get your hopes up too high. Aizawa’s not exactly the kind of guy to bend easily.”

Eri’s eyes lit up at the promise, and Y/n could practically see the excitement bubbling up inside her. She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Really? Oh my gosh, you’re the best, Y/n! I swear, I’ll make it worth your while!”

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head. “Go next door and get us some treats while I call him. A simple text won’t do the trick, and you know it. I’ll talk to him, but you’ve gotta be patient.”

Eri didn’t even need a second to think about it before she darted out the door, her footsteps light and quick as she rushed down the street. Y/n watched her go, a soft smile lingering on her lips. It was nice to see Eri so happy, so full of life. Even though she still had a lot to learn, it was clear that she had a good head on her shoulders, and a strong sense of determination.

Once Eri was out of earshot, Y/n turned back to her workbench and pulled out her phone from her pocket. She scrolled through her contacts until she found Shota’s name and tapped it.

Her thumb hovered over the screen for a moment before she typed out a simple, but direct message:

“Hey Shota, I know you’re probably going to say no, but Eri’s been asking about a sleepover with her friends. She’s 15 now, and I think she’s old enough to handle it. You should really let her have some freedom. Just think about it, okay?”

After a brief moment of thought, she hit send. She wasn’t sure what kind of response she’d get, but she had a good feeling that Aizawa would at least give it some thought. He had a soft spot for Eri, even if he didn’t like to show it.

Y/n set her phone down and leaned back, her fingers brushing the edge of the workbench. The peaceful ambiance of the workshop seemed to wrap around her, the soft light of the candles flickering as she gazed out the window, watching the snow fall gently outside.

She had never been one to get involved in personal matters like this, but when it came to Eri, it was hard not to want to help. Y/n understood the importance of finding balance in life, of having fun and making memories. And if Eri could prove to Aizawa that she was responsible, well, maybe this time he’d allow it.

Y/n only hoped that, for once, Eri could have the simple pleasures of a normal teenager, even if just for a night.

Y/n’s thumb hovered over the screen for a moment, but then she quickly put the phone down and decided it was better to call him directly. She pressed the dial button and waited, tapping her fingers lightly against the workbench as she listened to the dial tone. She knew Aizawa well enough to know that he wouldn’t be thrilled with the interruption, especially considering how exhausted he always seemed, but she hoped he would listen.

After a few rings, he picked up, his voice groggy and a bit strained. "What is it?"

Y/n immediately felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was probably busy grading papers or dealing with his never-ending pile of work. "Hey, I’m sorry to bother you. I know you’re probably up to your neck in work, but there’s something Eri’s been asking about."

He sighed on the other end, and she could almost hear the fatigue in his breath. "What is it?"

Y/n took a deep breath before speaking, choosing her words carefully. "So, Eri’s here with me right now. And she’s asking if she can sleep over. She’s 15, and I’ll be watching her the whole time. I know you’re very strict about this, but she’s a good kid, Aizawa. She really is. And eventually, she’s going to want to push those boundaries, and it might be worse if you don’t give her a little bit of trust. I know I did when I was 15."

She paused for a moment, allowing her words to settle in, but not letting the silence drag on for too long. "She was so excited when I said I’d ask you. What do you say? Just this once? I’ll keep an eye on her."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Y/n could practically hear Aizawa thinking it over. He was the type of man who didn’t make decisions lightly, especially when it came to Eri. He was fiercely protective, and even though Y/n had no doubt he trusted her, she also knew he didn’t easily give in to requests like this.

After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice still a bit worn, but with an underlying warmth that only Y/n would pick up on. "You’re right," he muttered. "She’s 15 now. And you’re not wrong. But don’t let her get any ideas. If this is going to work, you have to make sure she stays responsible, and nothing goes wrong."

Y/n smiled, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. "I’ve got it covered. Thanks, Aizawa. I promise, I’ll keep her out of trouble."

"Fine. Just don’t make me regret it," Aizawa replied, his voice softening just a little.

"I won’t," Y/n assured him, already hearing the faint click of him hanging up.

She held the phone in her hand for a moment longer, just letting the quiet settle around her. She exhaled deeply, glancing at the workbench where Red Riot’s gear sat neatly finished. After a brief moment of reflection, Y/n stood up, stretching her arms above her head. That was one problem solved—now, she could relax a bit, knowing Eri would get to enjoy a sleepover for once.

As she heard the door creak open, she turned to see Eri standing in the doorway with a bag of treats in her hands, her face lighting up when she saw Y/n.

"Guess what?" Eri grinned, holding up the bag. "I got us everything we need! And, you’ll never believe it… he actually said yes, he said i could sleep over here tommorow night!"

Y/n couldn't help but laugh, nodding toward the bag of sweets in Eri’s hand. "I know. I just got off the phone with him."

Eri squealed in excitement, rushing over to sit next to Y/n. "I can’t believe it! I’m gonna text my friends right now! This is the best day ever! If my sleepover with you goes well tomorrow, then he has to let me eventually sleep over with my friends."

Y/n smiled, watching Eri's face light up. She had made a promise, and now it was time to let Eri enjoy a bit of freedom, something that she hadn’t gotten to experience much of. The small, quiet moments of joy were what made all the hard work worth it.

The soft flicker of candlelight illuminated the cozy corners of the shop, casting long shadows as the night wore on. Eri was still buzzing with excitement, chatting non-stop about her plans for tomorrow, her sleepover, and the treats they’d just eaten together. But Y/n could see the exhaustion creeping into her eyes as the clock ticked closer to 9 p.m. She was used to these late-night chats, but she also knew it was getting dangerously close to the time Aizawa had set for Eri to be home.

Y/n stretched her arms out, the weight of the long day finally catching up to her. She knew how protective Aizawa was—he’d probably be pacing at home by now, waiting for Eri to get back before the clock struck a certain hour. No matter how much Eri was pushing for a little more freedom, Y/n knew Aizawa had a point about keeping her safe and sticking to boundaries.

"Alright, kiddo," Y/n said softly, pulling herself out of her chair and stretching once more. "It’s getting late. You know how Aizawa is about the time, and I think we should get you home before he starts worrying."

Eri pouted, clearly not ready to leave just yet. "But I wanna stay longer! We were just talking about everything!"

"I know," Y/n chuckled, giving her a gentle smile, "but tomorrow’s your big day. You’ve got your sleepover to look forward to, and I’m sure Shota wouldn’t be happy if you were out too late tonight."

Eri huffed, but there was no real anger in it. She was already pulling on her boots, grabbing her coat with a sigh. "Yeah, I guess you’re right. He’d probably give me the lecture of the century."

Y/n laughed softly, nodding. "You know him well. But he’s just looking out for you."

The two of them walked toward the door, Eri still bouncing on her feet with excitement about the sleepover the next day. The snow outside had slowed to a gentle fall, the cold crisp in the air as they stepped out of the warmth of the shop. Eri dusted the snow off her shoulders before giving Y/n one last, hopeful glance.

"Thanks for everything tonight, Y/n. You’re the best," Eri said, her smile as bright as ever despite the cold.

Y/n smiled warmly, feeling the soft sting of emotion as she glanced at the girl she’d helped raise. "You’re welcome, Eri. I’m happy you had fun."

"See you tomorrow!" Eri waved as she walked down the street, the sound of her boots crunching in the snow the last thing Y/n heard before she stepped back inside.

She closed the door quietly behind her and locked it, glancing at the time once more. It was getting late, and with Eri now safely on her way home, Y/n could finally take a breath. She glanced at the workbench, the faint outline of Red Riot’s gear still resting there, finished and ready. Tomorrow would be another busy day.

But for tonight, all she wanted was to relax and unwind. She pulled off her shoes and settled on the couch, the quiet of the night wrapping around her as she thought back to everything that had happened. Eri’s smile, Aizawa’s reluctant approval, and the snow-covered streets all combined in a warm, peaceful atmosphere.

Tomorrow was going to be a good day.

After closing up for the night, Y/n moves through her apartment, turning off the workshop lights and heading upstairs to her bedroom. The house feels quieter now, with the snow falling gently outside and the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath her feet. She changes into comfortable pajamas, the warm fabrics a welcome end to a long day of work. Her thoughts drift back to the conversation with Eri—how happy the girl was about the sleepover, and how much she'd grown since she first came into Y/n’s life.

Y/n pulls back the covers on her bed and settles in, grabbing her phone to check for any messages before turning in. She notices a few texts from Izuku, but they’re all just casual updates, like how Aizawa is holding up or how his students are doing. She smiles, knowing how easy it is for him to worry about his friends and teammates.

As Y/n relaxes into her bed, her phone rings once again. It's Izuku’s name lighting up the screen, and she answers it without hesitation, still feeling the afterglow of a quiet evening.

"Hey, Izuku," Y/n says, settling deeper into the covers. "What’s up?"

Izuku's voice is slightly muffled, as if he’s pacing around or maybe trying to gather his thoughts. "Hey, Y/n! I just wanted to give you a quick heads-up about tomorrow. So, Bakugo and Kirishima are planning to stop by together. They’re best friends, after all, and… well, I guess it makes sense for them to come as a pair. So, it’ll be the two of them—hope that’s okay with you!"

Y/n pauses for a moment, trying to picture the scene. Bakugo, unpredictable and intense, alongside Kirishima, the more easy-going and friendly of the two. She could already sense the clash of personalities that might occur, but she had agreed to help Bakugo, and she wouldn’t back out now.

"I mean, I figured it would be one or the other," Y/n says, her voice teasing but calm. "But two? That’ll be interesting."

Izuku laughs nervously on the other end of the line. "Yeah, it’s probably going to be a bit chaotic. Bakugo can be… well, Bakugo, but Kirishima’s pretty good at keeping things balanced. I hope you don’t mind. They’re both really excited about the gear! Well Kirishima is, i dont know about Bakugo"

Y/n smirks to herself, leaning back on the pillow. "I’m sure they are. As long as I get my work done, I’ll be fine. I just don’t want to get caught in the middle of a shouting match."

Izuku chuckles, though there’s a nervous undertone. "Oh, trust me, I don’t think that’ll happen. Kirishima’s really good at keeping Bakugo in check. And if anything gets too out of hand, I’ll make sure I step in."

Y/n’s smile widens as she imagines the dynamic between the two. She could already picture Kirishima’s upbeat energy and Bakugo’s explosive attitude. It would definitely be an interesting interaction. "Alright then, it’s a date. I’ll see them tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll make it work."

"Thanks, Y/n! I really appreciate you taking this on," Izuku says, relief washing over his voice. "I’m sure they’ll be in good hands. I’ll see you tomorrow, then!"

After hanging up, Y/n lays back in bed, thoughts swirling around the upcoming encounter. Bakugo and Kirishima together in her workshop—now that was going to be something. She quickly glances over through her window, admiring the outside.

With a soft sigh, Y/n snuggles deeper into the blankets. Tomorrow was going to be a big day. She only hoped she could keep her cool when Bakugo showed up, especially with Kirishima there to keep things balanced.

---

[steviewashere]

This is another one of my certified Piss Kink posts...so uh...minors do not interact and also...no shaming

Thinking about Steve and Eddie having an outdoors by the pool summer day. And they've already established their mutual piss kink. Steve really really wants to be treated as Eddie's urinal. But Eddie doesn't really know that part, not yet at least.

Anyway.

Steve keeps bringing Eddie an endless stream (see what I did there?) of Mtn Dew to drink—he already keeps his fridge stocked with a 12 pack, might as well see how many Eddie can drink. Like, to the point that Eddie starts to get uncomfortable—not bad uncomfortable—just bloated and squirmy and...yeah. He very quickly figures out what game Steve is getting at (so I guess this would be, like, they have the mutual kink but they don't always discuss the kink...if that makes sense?). So Eddie just keeps accepting the drink Steve is bringing him: Mtn Dew, a cold glass of lemonade, a whole bottle of water, even a few slowly melting popsicles. To the point where it's nearly unbearable, not terrible, but he knows if he doesn't relieve himself soon, there's going to be some strong consequences.

So while Steve is—presumably—inside getting another drink, Eddie excuses himself to the side of Steve's house with a miserably aching bladder. He's squeezing himself through his swim trunks. He's hunched into himself, walking weird because his thighs are squished together. He's breathing heavy, both turned on and exerted.

But when he gets to the side of the house, he finds Steve already there. Sitting on the pavement. Legs spread wide. Fully erect in his speedo.

Eddie's confused, understandably so—how did Steve know I'd go over here? Why is Steve on the ground? What the hell is going on??

And then, "Want you to use me like a urinal, Eds," Steve says. His voice is breathy and light and gone. There's a starry glaze to his eyes. He's flushed in the face and peering up at Eddie softly. Expectant. Trusting.

It's not the weirdest thing they've done—there was the whole pissing on Steve while he laid on the shower floor, the time he forced Steve to piss in a bottle while they were stuck in traffic (and then didn't let him come that night for not being able to hold it in), and a few other miscellaneous things that are neither here nor there. But this one feels a little out of left field.

Eddie's an improviser, though. He was made for this.

So he drops his trunks. Steps between Steve's legs. And tells him he's not allowed to come...because, of course, urinals don't come; so why should Steve?

He aims his stream at Steve's chest hair, over his thighs, a little spray across his face, and then the rest goes over his tight, tight Speedos. These little briefs that are already revealing every last little detail of Steve. And now they're wet. Wet and shiny and slick to Steve. Form fitting entirely along Steve's thick, long, veiny dick.

When Steve reaches to touch himself, Eddie immediately strides forward with full bravado. He yanks at Steve's hair, swats at his hands, and tells him, "Only I get to make you"—and then he reaches into the waistband of Steve's Speedo, fisting his dick tight—"flush," Eddie finishes.

And uh...yada yada yada...Steve comes with a guttural, deep moan and he slumps into himself and comes for what feels like forever. And then Eddie licks up Steve's face (because they're gross like that) and then uh...........

Eddie brings Steve his first drink because he seems parched and just needs to refuel after all that hard work he did <3

Piss piss fall in love <33

[fatratinatophat]

Promised you guys your Scraps and Goob headcanons since that poll won so here they are!

If someone wants to steal these, you're more than welcome to, I'd prefer getting credit if possible. If someone ends up using these for a comic or fanfic or something I'd love to see it so pls tag me or PM me I love reading my silly things :]

Scraps made Goob because she wanted a fellow Toon that would share her interests and hang out with her since the others weren’t really particularly crafty and didn’t share her interests

Goob just randomly showed up in Gardenview one day, both employees and other toons were extremely confused but the company decided to monetize on the free toon. His random appearance is also why he’s not on almost any posters

Goob was originally her height but he ended up growing a lot taller than her, Scraps is not happy about this development

His sharp teeth were also unintended, growing in randomly as he got bigger, Scraps was very confused

She originally planned to make his arms like the rest of his body, but underestimated the amount of fabric it would take to make him, so she improvised with long strips of rubber, poly beads (Makes them heavy) and red and blue felt to make his hands, which is why they look out of place (She intended to replace them, he wanted to keep them)

He couldn’t lift his arms for weeks because they were too heavy, eventually he figured it out

Dog and cat coded, you can guess who’s who

Both get zoomies cause I said so

Scraps WILL sit in boxes and circles on the floor, you cannot stop her

Scraps purrs and kneads when they’re both just hanging out instinctively

Goob is tall, Scraps is short

Goob is extremely clumsy, and this causes him to get rips pretty frequently, Scraps usually sews him up, whenever a spot starts to look too strange cause of all the sewing, she will cover it with a custom patch

Scraps is made of construction paper with her hands being Pom poms, her parts have to get replaced quite frequently, Goob helps her with this

Goob is usually very calm and non confrontational however, if someone is bullying Scraps and ONLY Scraps, he gets slightly violent and will slap whoever was talking to her rudely, this hurts quite a bit because of the poly beads in his hands. Nobody dares to say anything rude to Scraps when her brother’s nearby (Except the rare Shrimpo insult when he forgets)

He has ONLY ever slapped Shrimpo and various Gardenview employees

Scraps has mauled the employees on multiple occasions because they were mean to her brother so they try and avoid him whenever they’re together (Which is almost all the time)

The both of them get put in “time out” whenever they get aggressive towards the employees, where they’re locked in a closet for a couple hours as a punishment. This does not persuade them, it just makes Scraps mad (If one of them is stuck in time out, the other will refuse to work until they’re freed so they never stay in there long)

Goob doesn’t get treated particularly well because of his random appearance (New toon to look after while you’re getting paid minimum wage who’s clingy) so the employees don’t bother taking proper care of him. Scraps hates this and has made it her personal goal to make the employee’s lives a living hell so Goob’s considered the “obedient” one (He’s still a good boy even though the employees suck)

The two of them are basically attached at the hip, rarely ever apart for long periods of time, let alone at all

Neither of them can feel pain because they’re made of craft materials, they can feel what’s happening to them though it just doesn’t hurt

When either of them lose all their hearts in a round, they don’t die they just simply are incapable of moving anymore (Ripped off arms/legs, etc)

Phew alright I’m done, might edit this in the future if I get any better ideas to add but here they are, all the headcanons I have so far for these 2. Can you tell I think about them too much?

Below is ur promised doodles (They’re very low effort they’re not good also do me a favor and pretend I drew Scraps’ head right in the first image, ok?)

[morganadismay]

not to delve into the mistreatment of morgana again. but what fucks me up about that episode where merlin poisons morgana and its framed as "it was the only way, we would have all died otherwise" is that. no it fucking wasn't.

maybe if we were already dealing with s3 came-back-wrong evil smirk morgana who truly wasn't listening to anyone at that castle anymore because they tried (and succeeded!) to well. poison her. then maybe i'd concede that.

but throughout that entire episode morgana is largely just absolutely shellshocked. she follows merlin and arthur in a daze with huge eyes and she looks too absolutely terrified to say anything other than just feebly parrot what they are saying. she's very obviously not coping very well with whatever is going on. yeah she's going with morgause's plan but it's very clear to me that she is doing that because she doesn't know what the fuck else to do.

it's kind of a crooked parallel to the episode in s1 where she nearly kills uther. only at this point she knows she has magic, she has been constantly plagued by nightmares, paranoia and constantly lied to, and knows by now that neither gaius nor anyone else wants to help her. she also knows the people who did try to help her (druids) were all slaughtered in front of her eyes.

in the episode where she almost killed uther, morgana was pulled back from the point of killing him because she convinced herself there was another way and it would get better. in the poison episode there is nothing left she can fall back onto anymore on her own - no one else is there to offer any help, despite morgana begging for it, and everyone who did offer is dead - and then. on the other side of this. there is morgause, with her healing bracelet and her affection, telling morgana she has family who will stand by her, and saying "i will protect you but you have to help me with this"

so even in the moment where it very clearly dawns on morgana that she has put people she cares about - including, yeah, arthur and merlin - in danger, she is effectively acting like a cornered animal trying to follow the only hand that feeds her. but to claim that there was no other way than to kill her is ridiculous. she's visibly, obviously frightened and paralysed with that fear, and clearly torn up about something. she's a terrible liar. merlin can fucking see it and has the entire context for it, he even knows morgause's tactics from what she did with arthur already.

i cannot overstate how much this whole fucking situation could have been resolved if merlin actually offered her another solution and talked to her. i know he's like. physically incapable of communication and that yes, it would involve revealing and endangering himself. but for god's sake, do not tell me there was NO other way than to poison her. he could have fucking talked to her. that was a choice.

and i actually really, heavily doubt that, after seeing someone else with magic, who is her friend and has tried to help her before, albeit clumsily, and who is saying something along the lines of "morgause is lying to you and using your power to get the throne/has lied to arthur as well/you are not alone against uther and we can figure something out and find another way" the morgana who is green in the face sitting in the room w him and arthur would be like no actually merlin i'm absolutely convinced you and gwen and arthur should all die.

at the very least it would make her question things, and i think swaying her to break the enchantment would take very little energy from merlin, good at improvising under duress as he is, at this point. again, she's absolutely terrified and thinks she's completely alone and that without morgause she has nothing but the pyre awaiting her. to have a friend by your side when you're this scared does in fact change a lot.

i actually actively fucking doubt even arthur wouldn't fold as well if morgana and merlin BOTH turned out to have magic at the same time. like between them and gwen being kind, i feel like that wouldve maybe fucking solved some problems given that it wouldnt just be merlin vs uther in his silly head. but alas thats another topic.

anyway. thank you for coming to my ted talk. no, poisoning morgana was not the only way. rip to merlin but oh my god get a grip

[slowd1ving]

Hi, I was just looking through and my attention got caught on the theology student/roommate sunday lil synapses from a poll and I'm just, intrigued (I absolutely adore how you write all these different lil guys, very in character for them tbh ✨️)

Anyway, I hope your studies are going well/have gone well and that youre taking some time to take care of yourself too! -🦡 (I'm feelin badger lately so imma tag as that I guess)

ok so first of all dearest badger anon I am unbelievably ecstatic you brought this up like I would have absolutely went ham into the slowburn had it been voted number one but alas (I'm not complaining though ouroboros was so fun to write), and thank you for the well wishes about my studies (finals went stupendously amazing but I'm now stuck slowly preparing for next year </3)

secondly I'd just read nerd project at the time and was struck with divine inspiration... kind of since I would've written both sunday and reader as nerds.

anyways to give you more expansion on the plot (figuratively and literally lmao):

this is set in the same university AU as the blade roommate/dan heng bandmate universe (blade roommate), but an AU of that AU if that makes sense. It's the same tense situation with your previous roommate, but you're mostly staying over at your gf's apartment

to give a rough timeline, the Blade roommate AU occurs in second year when you've already established yourself into the Trailblazers, while the Dan Heng prequel happens in first year - so this sunday student au also happens in your first year as a physics student, but it involves the music society more than any collaboration with departments (no academic rivalry 💔💔)

Music society throws quite a few events - including house parties like the one shown in the dan heng fic, but also some more formal concerts that are difficult to get into even for members, hence there's a sort of raffle system for entry if you aren't a paying member of the public. You win several times, much to your surprise, and just go for the fun of it, with formal wear that's seen better days, though nobody's paying enough attention to you to actually see the fine wrinkles, the loosened tie around your neck, the wildly inappropriate socks that just about peek from the bottom of your trousers. No one cares - not with the entrancing medley of classical pieces conducted by a grey-haired man filling the space, nor with the beguiling opera that coils through the air from your friend Robin (actually, she may have been the very reason you had such luck in the raffle)

You are a chronic backstage loiterer, with a small strawberry cake in your hand for the star of the show. On the third instance of loitering, it's where you pass by the conductor, and he takes you in. Eyes critically assessing the way you've folded your tie, the scuff marks on your shoes, even the way your glaring socks are sliding down. He's made his judgement. His mouth presses into a thin line, and though his expression is perfectly neutral, you can sense someone's abject disappointment burrowing into your back.

You forget about it as soon as you spot your friend, a wide smile on your face as you bring forth the cake. Sunday doesn't - that annoyance is enough to seep into his long-term memory, buried deep until something reminds him of it.

"Something" being the particularly poor soundproofing between two of the practice rooms. The piano accompaniment he's improvising is being infiltrated by the wild, spiraling chords from next door: harsh twang of electric guitar bleeding into the fluting notes from the piano, poisoning the calm smile on his face into something far darker, far more annoyed. There are no other rooms left. His only option is knocking on his neighbour's door and hoping that they're reasonable enough to "keep it down, please."

His eye twitches as the door swings open and he comes face to face with you, of all people. You're much more polite than he anticipated, and just as messy with your appearance as he expected: band shirt so worn there's thin holes starting to appear, belt covering one of the loops of your pants, same scuffed shoes you wore to the concert (on further inspection, they appear to be trainers).

"Sorry, man," you say cheerfully, and he privately wonders how you can appear so blithely incognizant of others. You turn the amp down, but his day is nonetheless headed towards ruin.

Actually, I lied. Joint philosophy class you took as one of your additional credit classes, alongside some ancient language and programming. For some reason, you've been feeling on edge lately - your girlfriend has been laying out some pressed shirts for you to wear, and you've caught her staring at the worn clothes you can't bring yourself to wear. A fifth disdain, the rest an emotion you can't quite place. She gets you some high-end perfume. You've smelled it somewhere before.

You're late to that philosophy class, searching for some old cargos stashed deep inside the drawer you keep your clothes when you stay over - and the only seat left is next to the conductor, too intimidating for anyone else to squeeze behind. You let out a groan mentally - he seems like he fucking hates you, after all - but as you're setting your stuff down, you freeze.

It's the same perfume. Must be a coincidence, you think, all while Sunday's observing you in turn, wondering how someone can be so guileless about philosophy. Is this a filler class for you? Must be. He'd feel more pity for you, if you weren't scribbling crude comics in the back of your notebook. Is this what you do in whatever you major in, too? He could almost sneer.

You glance at him, and he looks away. Pressed shirt, chinos in the same shade that your girlfriend bought you - coincidentally. There's a growing pit in your stomach - borne from the orchestral ticket that went missing at her house after you told her about it, claiming she hadn't seen it.

It's a messy breakup, filled with an even messier follow-up as you return to your dorm, only to find your roommate problem worse than ever before, tears threatening to well as you explain yourself to the rooms officer who allocates you to the only person without a roommate on the other side of campus.

Of course it's the fucking guy your girlfriend had a crush on. You stand like an idiot in the doorway as he eyes you disdainfully (just like she did), the smile freezing in horror on your face as you meet his eyes. His pressed shirt seems to judge you as well, while the wings on either side of his head move backwards, as if in distaste.

"Let's get along?" Some form of those tentative words stretch into the awkward silence, but you already know it's a lost cause. Avoiding him would be the best solution to your problem; putting your head right down and working to maintain your stellar grades in physics.

Except, he seems to be everywhere you are. In the library while you put your headphones on max and bang out waves and optics, knocking on the practice room door when your slot is up and instantly developing a frown when you open it, pouring himself tea while you caramelise onions for your food, getting paired up with you for a stupid philosophy project in a class that you would've dropped if you could.

It's only when you fall asleep on the couch, partial differential equation sheets slipping from your grasp, laptop open on your chest, one tab on a surprisingly well-done powerpoint on analysing Plato's Forms, the other on an email from a supervisor with a link that he accidentally clicks while moving the laptop to the low coffee table next to you. It's an article, with your name emblazoned across the top. Scholarship student wins prestigious physics award - and he thinks, surely it must be a mistake. He shuts the laptop and searches the article up, scrolling through details of pristine grades and a short interview pasted under a photo of you with the award. His brow furrows, as he belatedly realises that, despite the stupid drawings coating your philosophy notebook, you never walked away from an exam with a frown or a downcast expression like many other classmates did.

It's a mistake. It's a mistake that he looked up your name, a mistake that he wakes up at night in a cold sweat to find your bed rumpled and the door ajar, a mistake that despite all reason, he stumbles awake and follows the lingering scent of your detergent down the accommodation stairs, a mistake that he leaves the keys in the dorm as it closes silently behind him, a mistake that he witnesses an argument in the foyer he has no business witnessing. A woman is pleading with a man with his back to the grey-haired Halovian, holding a box filled with clothes and textbooks that he recognises as the same ones you grimly ordered new a few weeks ago when you first moved in, staring blankly at the package when it came.

"What's going on here?" he asks coldly, only for her to immediately go silent as she notices him, face turning an ugly shade of puce, lips opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. The man turns, and he realises it's you, realises that your normally cheerful expression has turned bitterly emotionless.

"Nothing," you say, and that's what your frigid tone also indicates. "She's leaving."

"Mr Sunday! I apologise for the commotion," she starts, syrupy sweet. It's cloying. "But I had to talk to my boyfriend-"

Sunday feels a strange bout of annoyance - a fresh wave following the one that came with waking up at such an ungodly hour.

"Don't call me that anymore," you interrupt. It's the first time he's ever heard your voice sound so resolute, so disgusted. "Don't call me, don't text me, don't waste my breath by arguing-"

For the first time since like ever, his hand finds your shoulder, and he can feel the feverish heat of adrenaline pulsing through you. You startle, surprised, but you only give him a cursory glance back before you turn to her.

"Let's go," he tells you quietly.

"How do you know him?" she asks you suddenly, as though she has any right to. He vaguely remembers her sitting next to him in a divinity lecture, asking about the brands of what he wore, and he begins piecing things together. The emotions radiating from her rankle him.

"Get out before I call security," Sunday replies in your stead, and it seems this is what finally pushes her to the edge - tossing the box with your stuff at your feet while you stare blankly at the floor. It's not until the door slams shut that he finally notices the tears rolling down your cheeks, the hollow look you sport as you crouch to pick up the clothes spilling out past the cardboard. He doesn't know what to say to you. In fact, he doesn't know why he's still here, but despite his better judgement, he crouches down and picks up a worn copy of Sears and Zemansky's University Physics, carefully placing it amongst the pile of shirts that smell just like you. You don't thank him, you don't say anything, and neither does he - two people crouched on the foyer floor at the absolute arse crack of dawn, two idiots-

"Shit," he swears, patting himself down. He never swears, but tonight he can feel everything going wrong. It's then that you look at him, bewildered. "I forgot to bring keys."

Bizarrely, you laugh - half in shock, half in mania, and he gazes at you as though you lost your damn mind. The rooms officer is out, it's pitch black outside, and the two of you are still dressed in pyjamas - you in a particularly heinous ensemble.

"Library," you finally say after composing yourself, and it's not like he's got any other choice but to follow you, but he faintly remembers that it's... well... also closed at this time of night. You take a route to a small door at the back of the building that miraculously, swing open, and he glances at you in surprise: a strange feeling settling in his stomach as you rummage through your belongings to find an old wallet, grabbing two protein bars from the small vending machine and tossing it to him.

There's a question burning on his tongue as he follows you in between the rows of books, sitting down opposite you as you place your head in the crook of your elbow. It's silent, with only the sound of your breathing as he finally asks. "Isn't this against regulations?"

Your voice is muffled when you reply. "I fell asleep in here once after getting locked in, and the librarian's left a side door open since. We'll just leave close to dawn."

When he glances at the digital clock glowing bright green in the darkness, he inwardly curses - 3 AM. The two of you are due to present at 9 AM, and he can't afford to simply get a few meagre hours of sleep from dawn onwards.

He copies you, wearily placing his head on his forearm, but he finds he can't sleep - not with a looming deadline, not when he's rushed out full of adrenaline and annoyance. He glances up when he hears rustling, only to see you with a thick book cracked open, protein bar peeled open and half-eaten. "Can't sleep?"

The question startles him, as if he couldn't be anymore surprised. "I don't think I've ever had my sleep disturbed like this."

You turn the page. "I understand."

"Are you used to this?"

You glance at him, appearing to be contemplating your words. "Yes. I can handle the speaking tomorrow."

"Today," he corrects, but it feels less hostile than it might've had it been a different night. "What are you reading?"

It's... small talk - something that should've occurred when you first moved in, but now represents the most miniscule of thaws.

"Sci-fi." Another page turns.

"To poke fun?"

"Yeah," you look up, surprised - and it's clear that it comes from assuming he didn't know anything about you. "How'd you know?"

"Your assignments," he mumbles sheepishly into his sleeve, as if he hadn't read a whole article about you.

"Ah, yes, the joys of differentials. You know, the mode of transport they're using is labelled superluminal, but that..."

He's never realised it, but in the hazy green light filtering through the cold air, your voice is pretty relaxing - and before he knows it, he's drifted to sleep, your name resting faintly on his lips.

anyways was meant to be a lot shorter but I just went ham tbh, hope you like the expanded plot anon

also anon if you saw the notification and wondered where the post went I do apologise since I posted this when it was still half-finished and had to private it until I completed it </3

[sinfrog]

Practice writing for ALTERFALL: A brief Pesterlog between Rose Egbert and Kanaya Serket.

-- graciousAuthority [GA] began trolling enpassentBlasphemy [EB] GA: What Is The Name Of It GA: That Song EB: Haven't thought of one. GA: So You Were Improvising EB: You could say it's a very long improvisational piece, with lots of very large gaps in between. EB: When I first started playing, my father gave me the first book of beginner viola songs he could find on his way home from work, but I found the compositions therein to not be very interesting. GA: You Wrote Your Own EB: No, I scratched at the stupid thing like a cat trying to slit a chalkboard's throat until I heard something I liked. Little by little, years went by, and I'd always default to it as a warmup or a gap-filler. It's grown a lot, and happened to stop sounding terrible somewhere along the way, which is a plus. GA: I See GA: From Where Im Sitting That Does Appear To 8e Your General Way Of Going A8out Life GA: Someone Sets Up A Nice Little Task Or Set Of Guidelines To Follow Only For You To Scratch And 8ite At The Very Gesture GA: Its Maddening GA: I Had Hoped Humankind Might Have Produced Less Petulant Specimens EB: Sorry to disappoint. GA: Do You H8 Your Father Lusus That Much EB: Did I say I hated him? GA: You Didnt Like His 8ook EB: I didn't like the pieces *in* the book. EB: Father and I might not see eye to eye on things all the time, but I don't hate him. EB: I'm fascinated at the fact you came to that conclusion, though. EB: Is Your World So 8lack And White GA: Dont Do That EB: Do What GA: That GA: Its Fucking Rude GA: I Am Trying To Help You EB: Really? Elaborate, because I missed that part. I'm very stupid, you see, and I need a smart troll to explain what she means when she says things before I can understand. GA: Well At Least Youre Self Aware EB: (Lol.) GA: To 8e Str8forward You Are Playing Like A Manic Completionist GA: This Game Has Tasks And Roles And Things It Demands Of Its Players And You Are Achieving Very Few Of Them In A Timely Manner GA: I Can Already See You Doing What We Just Talked A8out And Throwing Away Your Chances Of Victory For Some Personal Spiteful Vindic8ion From Not Doing What Youre Told GA: Hence Me 8eing Here Now GA: Telling You To Not Do That EB: I see. EB: Well, too bad. You were in the right ball-park: I'm the type that likes to take my time with games, sidequesting and secret-hunting and such. GA: In The Game That Kills You EB: Even in the game that kills you, yes. EB: Didn't you already figure out I'm allergic to backseating? You seem to think yourself an expert on me. GA: I Didn't Think You Would 8e Dense Enough To Act Like Such A Wriggler In A Situ8ion Like This Is All EB: Womp womp. GA: Dont Fucking Womp Womp At Me EB: :P

[vagueeyes]

Finished reading & rewatching CTRL/ALT/ESC.

This episode has definitely crept up on me. I will fully admit it's not one I've thought much about, but I attribute that to s9 being (technically) the first series I watched, and at the time I was too wrapped up in always trying to figure out/guess what was happening (a habit I fortunately dropped by the time I got halfway through s3), that I often forgot to actually pay attention to the story & characters.

Something that really struck me this time - when relistening to the BBC Sounds pod for THE STAKEOUT last week, I really enjoyed this particular exchange with Adam Tandy (when Steve asks Adam whether he knew the "twist" - not transcribing too much of when Reece talks over him lol):

Reece: (after Adam explains when he got it) The other thing though, is I think you're at an advantage of getting it by reading it. Adam: Yes, there's no doubt about it, because you have to put all of that stuff into the script. So the fact that it's in the script (Reece: It gives beats away), and then it's up to us, when we're making the show, to make all of those beats (Reece: Hidden) hidden, or as subtle, or as placed, or as carefully revealed to a certain degree as we edit. Reece: It's interesting, that. Yeah, sometimes we're thinking– we're mindful of the stage directions, giving it away even for the reader - you! Adam: But you shouldn't do that (Reece: I know, I know, yeah), because obviously that's–you know, even if it's slightly spoiled for me, it's important that those beats are all in there, so that we can then judge them when we put it together.

Very much like THE STAKEOUT (and perhaps many of the other episodes but having rewatched the latter recently, this is the comparison that's on the forefront of my mind lol), I thought it was really interesting to see how much of these "beats" were in the script! Especially everything Millie says, and the conversation between Lynne and Jason (and his reaction to what she's saying).

Four more points of interest:

I love how vague the description was for Doug setting the atmosphere to the escape room - it gave an opportunity for Reece to improvise (I assume!) the little "torch in the wrong direction" gag (and he did it twice!!). Always appreciate how much he adds whenever his screentime is limited. I also remember seeing a lot of "OLLIE PLIMSOLLS???" in the sub's discussion thread and not knowing what that was all about hahaha.

Going into this ep, I kept in mind the bit in THE PARTY'S OVER where Steve mentions how quickly they've been filming everything because of the nature/pacing of the escape room, and that he had to write in another puzzle to fill in some space.

For some reason, I was expecting to see this "extra" puzzle in the script, but of course it wasn't there if he added this in during filming! Really enjoyed the fact that he came up with an extra minute of content for before Jason finds the UV torch, just like that! And ofc calling himself a clever bastard, haha.

On a more personal note, I'd like to say that the hospital scenes and Millie's attitude towards Doug felt very...real to me. I've been in her shoes before (more than once, sadly), and her frustration/anger/sarcasm(?) as a defense/coping mechanism(?) was incredibly relatable. I was very moved by Doug's response to just be kind to her, because he knows she's venting and needs someone to direct all of this at.

I do love the uplifting/cathartic ending, and appreciate they switched it around and made the 'EXIT' sign turning green as the final image of the episode instead!

[the-cult-of-sato]

Some PSO memes I edited and/or redrew earlier this year!

Firstly, the "Do it for Sato" meme, where I tried to fill up all the squares with different pictures of Sato... then VERY QUICKLY ran out of them and had to improvise.

I'm not entirely sure whether the Vivienne, Karen, or Rico pictures are official art or not. The one of Elenor up top isn't, but I can't seem to track down which site it was on (the only thing I remember is that it was in Japanese), but that little red Sato in the center is a t-shirt design that looks to be from -Aye on Redbubble, considering they have other similar designs available.

Then, afterwards, as celebration, I made a Pioneer 2 script captioned version of the "[Sato intensifies]" meme that pops up everywhere, which no joke, led to be making enough goofy small animation edits that I ended up with a cheap 3 month gig helping someone do website graphics.

More below the cut!

Then I started editing together a "Pioneer 2 mentioned!" (With a "No Heals, We Die Like Newmen" hoodie) meme out of that K-on pic... then realized the art wasn't going to mesh together at all, traced the edit for lineart, then figured out that, once I had the lines down, I'd been editing enough to not be half bad at texture and painting, which led to this:

"When you get the Phantasy Star Meme Autism instead of the Good at Math autism."

A total paintover of the same screenshot as above, which I believe came from this gallery, though there's another large dropbox of excellent high-res screenshots posted on Reddit that I'll link just in case.

Then a variation of this meme provided the pose reference for the FOnewearl, though at this point I was still straight-up tracing the area from the fingers to the shoulders, but on the rest of the outfit I started actually trying to sketch things out myself, which led to the Sato version of the hat I use in-game and the Sato to the side mimicking the same pose, but also the knowledge that I was dangerously close to learning how to make art properly...

But also these were all done in GIMP with a mouse, so this picture took like fifteen fucktrillion years, so I decided to animate it and go feed my mags for a while.

[queenofbaws]

"i missed hearing your voice.." Jossam post game? I hope things are going alright

He told himself that he wasn't worried, that he'd pulled off crazier stunts than this without breaking a sweat. The ball was in his court, after all, and even if he didn't have the home team advantage as he parked his car and stepped out onto her driveway (salt crunching under his feet like grit from the mines), other advantages abounded: he looked pathetic, for one, bruised like an overripe summer peach; he'd had time to run his lines, for another, drafting before refining, refining before editing, editing before finalizing, finalizing before practicing, practicing, practicing.

Even now, as he carefully climbed the steps to her front door, setting a little more weight than usual against the side rail (he'd landed strangely when he'd fallen into the vent shaft, and all the kings horses and all the kings men hadn't quite been able to figure out how or why he'd managed to fuck that muscle group up in such a particular fashion), he worked through the script in his head:

Hi there, long time no see! I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd check in...I think maybe you forgot to pay your phone bill this month - the damn thing just rings and rings when I call, no answer, no voicemail, nothing. Hey, look, don't sweat it, I don't even care that you kinda-sorta blew the lodge to smithereens, that's what we've got insurance for, know what I mean? What's a little property damage between friends? Oh, quick question while I have you: You don't, ha ha ha, hee hee hee, hoo hoo hoo, I don't know, hate me, do you?

But before he could so much as knock, Sam opened the door and his oh-so-brilliant plan crumbled into so much dust.

She had that effect on him. Always had.

Why hadn't he planned for that?

There was a beat where they simply stood like that, opposite one another in a hundred separate ways, her arms folded despite being on the warmer side of the threshold, his open wide despite the cold, both of them posturing, posturing, posturing as if they could fix the problem through body language alone.

Josh wet his lips. Forgot his lines. "Hi." There. Hi there. That was what he'd practiced, that was what he'd written, that was part of the plan that would endear him to her again. It wouldn't come out, though, couldn't squeeze its way through the pinhole of his throat, not now that she was actually looking at him, not now that they were close enough for him to smell her fabric softener and see the butterfly bandage holding that cut over her eyebrow together.

He tried again, took it from the top as Dad would say...and failed just as spectacularly. "I, uh, hi."

Sam's entire body seemed to move with her breath, drawing up on the inhale, folding over on the exhale. She was tired, he saw, she was so, so tired - and all because of him. "What do you want, Josh?" she asked, the question smooth and unhalting, improvised but earnest.

He hadn't considered that. Hadn't planned on a question. He hadn't practiced any answers, hadn't drafted a line of banter that would come across as suitably apologetic while still being rakish and playful, and -

And...

And.

And, God help him, it all just came out.

"I wanted to see you," he said, the rush of blood in his ears deafening him to his own voice, filling his head with panicked radio static. "I know I'm the last person you want to see, but...you weren't answering your phone, you weren't answering your messenger, you weren't answering your email - holy shit, Sammy, I almost picked up a pencil to write you an actual hand-to-God letter, but I was worried you'd throw it in the shredder as soon as you saw my name, and there'd go my seventy-three cents of postage. In this economy, I - "

Her eyebrows went up. His stomach sank into his feet.

He tried again.

"Look, I...I know you don't want to talk to me. If I were you, I wouldn't want to talk to me either, but...but you don't have to talk. You don't have to say a word to me if you don't want, you can close the door in my face right here, right now, and I'll get it, I really will, but I just..." His throat was a desert. He swallowed hard, found his words cracking anyway. "I miss hearing your voice. I miss seeing you. I...I miss everything about you, and I know the only person to blame for that shit is me, but I don't know how to fix it, so..." Out went his arms again, a pathetic mimicry of himself, a gesture as hollow as it was familiar. "I'm open to suggestions."

Sam took another breath, her shoulders rising then falling, her gaze never flinching, and something in the shape of her mouth, the jut of her hip, convinced him that he'd been right, that she was only a second away from slamming the door in his face, turning the latch so hard he'd be able to hear it click. After what he'd put her through - after what he'd put them all through - it was what he deserved, what he had coming, what he'd brought down on himself, what he'd -

"You should probably start by coming in, then," she sighed, finally dropping her eyes from his as she held the door open, making space for him to step inside. "My list's a little too long to go through with the wind blowing like that - trust me, I've timed it."

"I bet you have, Sammy," he said as he took that first step onto the mat, his eyes prickling from the warmth of her house and something else, something he wasn't quite willing to let himself believe yet. "And I'm all ears."