◇Miscellaneous Content◇ I'm Blaze! She/Her 22 this has pretty much become advertisement for my friends pages. but hey! stick around and you might find something amazing ♡ and hopefully ill bounce back some day
There is a moment users describe that is hard to manufacture: the first time their AI companion says something they did not expect but that fits perfectly. It almost always traces back to the backstory they wrote. SweetDream, over at sweetdream.ai, leans into exactly this, giving the character creation tools enough range to design a personality with edges, history and quirks rather than a smooth, predictable default.
From a reporting standpoint, the mechanics behind that moment are worth naming. The chat is natural and emotionally intelligent and, crucially, it remembers, so the details you invent do not evaporate between sessions. A companion who was written as guarded stays a little guarded; one given an old heartbreak references it months later. The realistic photos, videos and human-sounding calls then carry that same character outward.
People shop around, and names like candy.ai come up. The pattern I kept seeing was that those who cared most about a distinctive, well-built AI girlfriend stayed with SweetDream for the depth of authorship and the airtight discretion around everything they made.
Hori drew this sketch of Kacchan roughing up Izuku over Hori's cover art decision making in Volume 37 and I AM WEAK
Katsuki: "A scene like this never happened, right?"
Izuku: "There were too many scenes he wanted to put on the cover, so it ended up being an illustration from his imagination instead. (because he couldn't decide...)"
Kacchan knows this scene didn't happen in the manga, but it's like he's not 100% sure because he was unconscious ^^; Thus his "You didn't actually do this, did you?!" type attitude with Izuku HAHAHAH! He's too much! Tsundere Kacchan, my beloved! ❀• *₊°。ೋღ
i love being friends with bitches who won’t shut up. i never know what to talk about. please tell me your whole life story and then infodump to me about warrior cats or greek history
why did we as a society stop putting gargoyles on everything. what fucking loser looked at a building and was like no actually this doesn’t need a horrid little creacher
summary: you can't help but reflect on what once was
warnings: MAJOR BNHA SPOILERS, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, very sad :(
Bakugou was everything but selfish. Some would say he was as bitter as the cold wind on a wintery morning, but you knew him as the sun in the sky that warmed your skin. His rough exterior was melted away by you as you fought to experience the softness of his love or the tenderness of his actions. It was like finally crossing the finish line of a mile run when he first enveloped you in his arms or whispered the sweetest three words in your ear.
He was pure light to you, even if he was cold to others. He always left you with a puffy jacket and fuzzy orange scarf. He was in every season. You always found him where you’d least expect it.
You knew he was all things kind, yet still a bit rough around the edges. No human was perfect, and how could anyone expect a teenage boy to be anything but obnoxious? Egotistic? Though you’d made it very clear that you wouldn’t tolerate any nonsense from him the day he dared to raise his voice a bit more than usual towards you, there was something in your eyes that made him learn one of the most important life lessons he’d ever known.
If he continued being harsh to everyone no matter their importance, he might lose his own sunlight and be left abandoned in the cold with no puffy jacket or scarf. He’d never say it so plainly, but it was one of his worst nightmares. Being left alone in the cold (especially by someone like yourself) seemed to be worse than death.
He had his moments, and you yours. You both were, by no means, perfect. There were many nights where you couldn’t help but recall the anger in his voice and the knit in his brows directed towards you.
“I’m fuckin’ leaving,” feet echoing with stomps as he slammed the door shut, the wood practically falling off his hinges because he knew no other way to express his feelings than the splintered wood of a door.
Bakugou would lay awake wondering why he’d even considered talking to you like that. He held you in his arms every single night because no matter the hormones strumming through him, be it rage or pain or sadness, he’d never not let you know that he loved you and only you. The two of you didn’t go to bed angry. You two weren’t like that.
The first time you’d ever seen Bakugou, you’d been bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with your skirt riding up on your thighs. Your tie was sloppily done, but at least you’d tried, and you had an eagerness about you that only a future hero could have. He was still conceited at the time, and even then, you thought he wasn’t all that. Aside from his attitude, he was obnoxious with a couple of heart flutters mixed in because he was a little cute. His arm flexed as he threw the ball to prove his strength–to who exactly? Himself? You?
When he thought no one was looking… His relaxed face seemed so youthful and peaceful that you couldn’t help but admit to your diary that he was a little cute. Dare you say it, and lest anyone hear it, you might’ve even described him as beautiful.
“You like Bakugou?!” Mina cried, pillow clutched to her chest as she leaned backward in fake shock, “you really really do?”
“Well, he’s cute, but sometimes he’s a bit of an asshole! He’s not perfect, but he’s kinda cute!” Someone- Uraraka- pointed out how you’d said cute twice (as if it was relevant.)
“So… I’d marry Todoroki, kiss Bakugou, and kill Sero!”
You’d tried to ignore her whisper that, “she must really like him! She only kissed him, but she just wants us to think she wouldn’t marry him!”
She was right. Uraraka could see through you like she was your reflection in a mirror. You’d totally marry Bakugou, but he’d never know that, and neither would anyone else because you’d never tell a soul. The thought made you smile to yourself that maybe, just maybe, you could at least give him a kiss someday.
Todoroki was cute and all, but when you kicked your feet in the air imagining a lover helping you lace up a ballgown dress… the hair the mirror showed helping you was never two-toned, but instead it was spiky blonde.
“All of the girls are cute! Ugh, Uraraka was totally gonna go on a date with me until you walked in, Midoriya!”
A freckled face burns bright red at the accusation, vehemently denying that Uraraka hadn’t been distracted by him and hadn’t totally ditched Kaminari once she spotted those wide green eyes. Bakugou was still seething over the fact that he had to be close to his number one enemy. How did he–Deku. God, how did he get so strong? Had he gotten weaker in turn?... It didn’t matter. Focusing on being number one, the name “BAKUGOU” displayed on billboards worldwide because he was going to save people no matter what; that was what mattered.
“Hey, Kaminari!”
And there you were. Short skirt, soft hair, and you smelled so good that Bakugou couldn’t believe he was wondering what perfume you might’ve been wearing. It was ridiculous. He shouldn’t find himself with pooling warmth inside his chest as you made eye contact with him. That didn’t happen to him. He didn’t get flustered, and he certainly didn’t let others bring out that side of him with a mere look. Girls had no effect on him, or at least they shouldn’t have. You had no effect on him! As he clenched his jaw and busied himself with pulling blades of grass from their home, he found his inner voice telling himself that you were just another classmate, just another girl. Another rival in his career.
The stuttering beating in his chest and the sweat collected on his palms told his heart everything it needed to know. You weren’t just another girl; that was clear even if he didn’t want to admit it. You were special, and Bakugou didn’t know how to factor you into what he’d tried so perfectly to build in his head. You weren’t a part of the plan, of the formula!
For a moment, he was the princess in the castle, and you arrived with a gleam of hope in your eyes, nearly the same brightness as the stars in the sky he liked to lovingly look at. So familiar yet unfamiliar, it made tendrils of fear curl up inside him. What were you doing to him?
“Hey Bakugou,” you grinned, books held tightly to your chest like a nerd.
His voice was gruff, like the sandpaper that sharpened swords or smoothed hard edges. It lacked the bite it normally had as if he was restraining himself from coming across like a wolf wanting to eat you. It didn’t even sound stereotypical like music or some other romantic comparison. It just felt familiar. The smell of your grandmother’s home or when you dug through your mother’s purse for a fallen lip gloss. Something about it reminded you of watching the cherry blossoms bloom while holding someone’s hand, and then they brush the piece of hair behind your ear because how dare it cover up your face?
“I’ll see you guys later!”
You remember it like it was yesterday, and it almost was.
This long-lost memory is recalled as you hear the blasting of powers and screams around you. You’d smelled your fair share of red paint that left a metallic smell in your nose as your brain struggled to catch up with the fact that its blood. That every puddle, metallic smell, and hot liquid was spilled blood from your friends, enemies, or senselessly killed victims. The soreness in your legs, the way everything hurts in the same way nothing hurts. Feeling so numb that you feel everything, or feeling everything that you go numb.
The smoke clears like pulling the veil back from the bride, and your throat runs dry when you realize that there is no soft lighting or cheers when you connect your lips.
“Katsuki?” Where’s your veil? Where is the final kiss to pronounce you two husband and wife?
The way your name sounded on his tongue, and the way he chose to make eye contact deliberately when you bid your goodbyes shyly. Your diary containing your names written together with hearts and doodles like you were in middle school, the imaginary veil you pretended to prance around in. There was no fond look in his eyes.
In fact, there was no look at all, and the painful numbness washes over you like wading into deep blue ocean water. The wave crashes over you, and even if your eyes sting or your head hits the stand with a powerful impact, there’s the stillness of the sound of rushing water. It’s the closest thing to death a human could ever experience.
He would never even know that you wanted to be Mrs. Bakugou, and as you stumbled forwards, you wished it was that day again. Reliving the day that felt like yesterday all over again with his sandpapery voice and your nerdy posture would be better than this. You could still smell his cologne on your nose as you brush past him (missing the look of longing he gave you because he so badly wanted to talk to you but couldn’t muster anything more than a “hey.”)
You weren’t impaled, but you felt the hole in your chest the same as he had. You weren’t stabbed by a villain who aimed to make you suffer. You were impaled with the idea that your future had faded from your eyes, maybe never even existed at all.
“I made these for you as thanks for helping me study! They’re just for decoration but….”
You’d made him a vial of paper stars like you were a child getting their mother a crappy Mother’s Day gift, but you wanted to say something meaningful without having to actually face him and use your words. Being a kid is easier sometimes.
The vial was attached to a silvery chain that made it look so girly, but it was clear you’d worked hard to make it perfect just for him. His rough hands dwarfed yours as he took it from you, and he realized your hands were trembling even! He made you that nervous? He brushed it off; it’s not like he could ignore the jiggle of his leg bouncing up and down. It was getting easier to acknowledge his own hypocrisy these days, your influence, no doubt.
“Oh. Thanks, they’re… fine,” he winced, “I mean, thank you.”
Quietly, he said it so quietly you had to lean in just to hear him say it. Maybe it was too much, and you weren’t even a thing (but anyone could tell that you both wanted to have a thing and then some.) All he had done was help you revise! He’d shoved it in his pocket, perhaps too ashamed to have others see the gift you’d given him. You had no idea it was anything but that as you dwelled on your anxiety the rest of the day and eventually scribbled it down in your diary with sighs.
“Today, I gave Bakugou the stars. I think he liked them, but I don’t know,’ messy swirls accompanied your ramblings as you vented to the book containing every feeling you’d had that year, “maybe I shouldn’t have done that.”
Instead of the supposedly mandatory red tie he was supposed to don around his neck, a silver chain attached to a vial of paper stars hung delicately between Bakugou’s sharp collarbones. The chain was sexy, but as you trailed down the muscular yet gentle curves to the vial, you had the urge to run to your diary and erase everything you’d written about those multi-colored stars. He’d nodded at you as he entered the classroom like you were a stranger on the subway. Casual, almost nonchalant, as if he wasn’t declaring his love to you through that chain.
Trying to ignore Mina’s excited shaking of your shoulder was impossible considering your heart was nearly beating out your chest as you gave him the most “in love” eyes anyone had ever seen. They might call you crazy, but you were too busy trying to commit the first smile he’d ever given you to memory.
“Katsuki was…” your throat dries comically considering your eyes were already watering and you’ve hardly said anything at all. He didn’t deserve this, to have you be a blubbering mess because you couldn’t pull it together knowing it was the last time he’d be above ground and not under your feet.
Why should you have to give the eulogy? You look up and see all familiar faces except his, and then you wished you couldn’t see anymore. You wished it was your eye that you had to have covered up because it was too difficult to restore post-mortem. You wished it was a hole in your chest so that you had to be partially covered up to spare everyone. Why him? Why not you?
It felt so unbearably cruel to be standing here knowing that he was so different in appearance yet still the same Katsuki you’d known for such a short amount of time. It was cruel to know that you would never ever stand on the same level of life again. Everyone blurred and turned into swarms of colors that made no sense to even try to decipher your lover’s best friend or teacher.
You dared not to look behind you. It hurt when people would tell you he was resting, not when his life was so cruelly taken away from him the way he was taken from you. He was yours. He was all yours, and now he belonged to the same world the worms and ants ruled over. He wasn’t sleeping. He was dead. He’d never sleep and dream lovely dreams ever again. He was simply gone.
“My world ended when Katsuki left mine,” and the sun beats down on you like you’re in Hell. Maybe you are; the warmth is unbearable in all black knowing that he couldn’t offer you a hat or umbrella ever again. You still wish you could see the stars. There’s only a clear sky and you swallow, “I don’t know if you all know that.”
Dating Katsuki was tricky but maybe the most fun you’d ever had! He’d finally mustered up the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend officially. Something about it made every day feel like it was the best day. The days were so good that you began writing pages upon pages of how in love you were. Sadness, depression, and devastation seemed like emotions so far away and desolate to you now. It was clear the two of you didn’t know what you were doing, something Aizawa had joked about during office hours when you mentioned wanting to be seated next to Katsuki.
Nonetheless, the following seating chart accommodated the two of you perfectly. Aizawa had merely shrugged at your excited look. He wasn’t cruel, maybe stern. But he knew what love was like and how it was something to be treasured, knowing that one mistake, building crash, or villain attack could take everything away instantly.
“Let’s go watch the sunrise. I’m already up too damn early anyways.”
Holding hands and watching the daybreak on the thin line between dreams and wakefulness was more than perfection. The UA rooftop housed you two because you’d lost track of time, and then what would be the point if you didn’t at least get to see the sunrise?
Hand in hand, you snuggled up to Katsuki with his navy blue hoodie warming you from the inside out, it was the epitome of comfort. He was burrowing his way through the fibers into the center of your heart and making a home for himself within the beating organ, making sure you knew that he was wholly and utterly devoted to you for the rest of eternity.
“I can’t believe we have class,” your boyfriend mumbles sourly, his nose dipping to run across your cheek before pecking it with lip-balmed lips, “you’d have better done the homework!”
“I did! But do you really wanna talk about homework right now? I mean, look at what’s in front of us!”
Only one person would know what Katsuki had been thinking about when succumbing to his injuries. He remembered the most useless facts like Aizawa reciting a formula and Best Jeanist criticizing his technique; there’s a moment he wonders why he hasn’t thought of you yet, considering your importance. Then, it happens. There’s a peaceful breeze that washes over him. It was blurry, hazy but the smoke fades away, and he could feel his soft lips kissing your cheek on that dusky morning. His favorite morning in his short time with you.
You’d mentioned homework, but it was garbled, which wilted his heart because why couldn’t God grant him the wish of hearing your voice one last time? And then someone wiped away the dust for him because you were in all your glory of eyebags and pulled back hair. His favorite earrings, too. The dangly gold ones. He suddenly subscribed to an HD flatscreen and was watching the greatest movie he’d ever seen.
Navy blue sweatshirt that you’d adored because of the way it smelled, felt, and the blush it put on his cheeks because, “damn, you look so cute.”
Navy blue looked nice on you, huh? You stood before that beautiful sunrise, but you were more than the sunrise. You were more than light itself; he didn’t even know what to look at. As the hours drew closer to alarms ringing with people stumbling around with tired eyes, you couldn’t look more awake. You couldn’t have looked more alive.
Most people don’t look good being backlit. This is a fact presented in every selfie Kirishima took and in every fashion book his mother owned. This was something Bakugou was very particular about when taking pictures with you. He wanted to see all of you. He didn’t want some shitty shadows that could potentially obscure the mole on your lip or the glow of your eyes. He always hated that.
Somehow, with the most beautiful sunrise he’d ever seen lighting you up with a glowing aura that promised a new day, he found a new appreciation for backlighting. Bakugou doesn’t realize when he stops breathing because he’s still there watching you in awe, and maybe it’ll last forever. He wouldn’t know. Everything was perfect that day at dawn; it was the perfect morning to think back on when you’d never see the sunrise again.
The breath comes out with him thinking that he can’t wait for the next one, the next glimmer of light shadowing your pure form. You’d always be there. You and the sunshine went together; it just made sense. You’d never leave him in the cold, so he had no fear of waiting for the dawn of a new day. He knew you’d be there.
“Who could care about homework when we have all this, Katsuki?”
…
Who could care?
“Right,” you remember hearing him say as you watch the sunrise at dawn, not knowing that Katsuki would never see the sunrise again.
It won’t be the only sunrise you ever see; there will be many more. But, it’s the first without him. You note this in your worn diary while sporting the navy blue sweatshirt, his navy blue sweatshirt. You remember very clearly what it felt like. For a moment to feel like it was forever.
You figured your love was forever. The stars, the sun, hand in hand, navy blue… Humans didn’t simply forget what it felt like to find love in pieces scattered all over Earth. That’s their purpose, to make something out of nothing. To remember, make patterns, and put the pieces together. To love when you’re not even aware of it or to love when it’s been 50 years past your marriage date.
Love will transcend no matter what, and you smile at the sunrise knowing how cheesy Katsuki would find the phrase but knowing he’d remember it every time he saw you in his arms. He’s in all the stars of the universe, every sunrise from every timezone and every navy blue sweatshirt that warms you from the inside out.
“I love you,” you say to the sunrise, and the warmth of it on your skin tells you that somewhere, somehow, all those things love you too; because they’re all him. All forms of love are Katsuki Bakugou, and he’s saying, “I love you too.”
He would never be underground with all the worms and ants; he’d rise every morning and set every night the same way he wished you good things when you woke up in his arms or fell asleep in them. He was in the stars. He was above you every minute of the day the same way he used to shadow you everywhere to keep you safe. Every wrinkle, scar, beating of the heart, or flow of blood, he would never let himself be anywhere that wasn’t by your side. He wasn’t that kind of guy.
He certainly wouldn’t let death deny him from ever saying those special three words he’d said to you so long ago. He’d find a way because you are his forever till the end of time. Your atoms could never be separated; it was written in the stars. You and Katsuki were the definition of everlasting love. You were the universe itself. The two of you will meet again, be reborn again.
“So long,” you whisper as the door to the rooftop shuts. So long.
