if i never see another tiktok throwing around the phrase “feminine rage” it’ll be all too soon. “feminine rage” this, “feminine rage” that, “feminine rage” shouldn’t be a label we slap on poorly explained or hand-waved plot choices to shove in some violence—“feminine rage” should be about the crack, about violently letting loose after suppressing suppressing suppressing. it should be railing at how fucking unfair it is that sometimes we are heaped into tiny tight little boxes and expected to stay there it should be about how horrific it is that we never completely belong to ourselves, how we are constantly performing, how we can dedicate our entire lives to other people and still be treated like the butt of a joke (“your mother’s just hysterical” or “I pranked my wife by pretending i threw out something special to her” or “I grew up and stopped chasing after looks and chose someone loyal”). it’s not girlpower it’s not about girlbossing it’s about being pushed to the very edge and how that is a horrific tragedy that could’ve been avoided if things just weren’t so terrible.
New illustration for You're Next by Horikoshi
BAUGOU DRIVING!!!
can you make one for number 4? (^^)
sure, i can! thank you for participating, sweetheart <3 hope you like this one—it was fun to write!
(this is lightseoul's 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i'll whip something up!)
4. "DO I MAKE YOU NERVOUS?" (0.8k)
you pad your way to your small living room, two mugs of hot chamomile tea in tow, diligently trying not to spill any on your pristine, tiled floor.
but not as much as you’re trying to steady your hammering heart.
the perpetrator of your impending cardiac arrest remains unaware of your plight, however, seemingly relaxed with his right arm resting on top of the backrest of your two-seater couch.
upon seeing you approaching, he sits up ever so minutely, but his arm stays put.
“thanks,” he mumbles as you carefully place the beverages on the tiny coffee table in front of you.
“sure,” you retort, voice pathetically wobbly, and for a second you just stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do with yourself.
bakugou’s eyes drift up to look at you, questioning. “aren’t you going to sit?”
“r-right!”
gingerly, you plop yourself down beside the man, purposefully making sure there’s an appropriate enough distance between the two of you.
a few moments pass with neither of you saying anything, the air so unusually tense you could cut it with a meat cleaver. you find yourself toying with the hem of the boxer shorts you hastily threw on while bakugou did his business in your comfort room upon your arrival at your apartment unit.
the very unit he’s visiting for the first time.
with tonight being the first either of you has ever visited the other’s home.
alone.
so, yeah—maybe the looming heart attack is a bit warranted.
“…this is your place, right?”
your face contorts in a mix of offense and confusion before you can think better against it. “of course, it is!”
“then why do you look so fucking stiff?”
at the call out, it suddenly dawns on you how tense your body is, spine straight in a rare occurrence of you having good posture. you roll your shoulders back in an attempt to relax a little, still finding yourself unable to look the pro-hero in the eye.
beside you, bakugou huffs, before muttering: “and are you saving some space for the holy spirit, or something? fucking glued to the armrest…”
you can’t help it—you snort at his petulant comment. this grants you a light shove from the man, who doesn’t need to move much to do so what with his wingspan being abnormally wide.
“quit laughing at me, dumbass.”
it takes you a few more seconds to get the chuckles out, and you’re finally lulled into a comfortable silence soon after. mustering the courage, you chance a glance at bakugou, who’s apparently already been looking at you.
“what?” you ask, feeling overly self-conscious.
he studies you for a while longer. “are you really going to sit like that for the rest of the night?”
you’re really going to have that fucking stroke.
“why?” you manage to get out, “where do you want me to sit?”
again, bakugou lets out an exasperated sigh, as if this entire exchange is tiring him out. “do you need me to spell it out? get fucking closer.”
before you even get the chance to get flustered at his command, bakugou grabs you by the hip with one, strong hand, unceremoniously pulling you flush against his firm chest.
instantly, you feel yourself flame in embarrassment, mind barely registering the brazen display of confidence and strength. you find yourself trying not to focus too much on the comforting heat radiating off his frame, or how his toned torso feels so solid against your skin.
or, perhaps most importantly, the fact that he just doesn’t seem to get nervous around you as you do around him.
you don’t get to dig too deep into that, though, because bakugou reaches out and gently tugs your head down against his chest, effectively snapping you out of your trance.
but that’s when you hear—and feel—it.
stunned, you jolt away from the man, who startles ever so slightly you would’ve missed it if it weren’t for the way you’re staring at him in absolute shock.
“what the f—”
“do i make you nervous?” you blurt out before you can talk yourself out of it.
bakugou’s face scrunches up, “what?”
“your heart’s beating so fast,” you point out. “or at least i think it is.”
bakugou doesn’t say anything for what feels like an hour, before he throws his hands up and turns away from you, opting to face the TV instead. “so fucking what. sue me.”
you can’t help the grin that takes over your face at the sight, a tinge of pink now resting on the high planes of the pro-hero’s cheeks.
bakugou side-eyes you, face sullen, “the fuck are you grinning about?”
“nothing,” you sing-song, looping your arm around his in a burst of new-found confidence. “just found out i make pro-hero dynamight nervous.”
at that, he scoffs. “that’s hardly an achievement, dumbass. i’m your fucking boyfriend.”
High quality version of Katsuki from volume 42
posting the timelapse of the cleanup and colouring for this in light of the volume 37 cover
spy x family as 90’s anime 👨👩👧✨
shower. not a bath, a shower. use water as hot or cold as u like. u dont even need to wash. just get in under the water and let it run over you for a while. sit on the floor if you gotta.
moisturize everything. use whatever lotion u like. unscented? dollar store lotion? fancy ass 48 hour lotion that makes u smell like a field of wildflowers? use whatever you want, and use it all over.
put on clean, comfortable clothes.
put on ur favorite underwear. cute black lacy panties? those ridiculous boxers u bought last christmas with candy cane hearts on the butt? put em on.
drink cold water. use ice. if u want, add some mint or lemon for an extra boost.
clean something. doesn’t have to be anything big. organize one drawer of ur desk. wash five dirty dishes. do a load of laundry. scrub the bathroom sink.
blast music. listen to something upbeat and dancey and loud, something that’s got lots of energy. sing to it, dance to it, even if you suck at both.
make food. don’t just grab a granola bar to munch. take the time and make food. even if it’s ramen. add something special to it, like a hard boiled egg or some veggies. prepare food, it tastes way better, and you’ll feel like you accomplished something.
make something. write a short story or a poem, draw a picture, color a picture, fold origami, crochet or knit, sculpt something out of clay, anything artistic. even if you don’t think you’re good at it.
go outside. take a walk. sit in the grass. look at the clouds. smell flowers. put your hands in the dirt and feel the soil against your skin.
call someone. call a loved one, a friend, a family member, call a chat service if you have no one else to call. talk to a stranger on the street. have a conversation and listen to someone’s voice. if you can’t, text or email or whatever, just have some social interaction with another person. even if you don’t say much, listen to them.
cuddle your pets if you have them/can cuddle them. take pictures of them. talk to them. tell them how u feel, about your favorite movie, a new game coming out.
still can’t get over my psychiatrist telling me distractions like writing and playing video games can only get me so far and that i have to start addressing the root causes of my suffering eventually