#Innate artistic drive

[in-sightpublishing]

On Tejano Music 4: Basic Instrumentation

Author(s): Scott Douglas Jacobsen Publication (Outlet/Website): The Good Men Project Publication Date (yyyy/mm/dd): 2024/08/31 A seasoned Musician (Vocals, Guitar and Piano), Filmmaker, and Actor, J.D. Mata has composed 100 songs and performed 100 shows and venues throughout. He has been a regular at the legendary “Whisky a Go Go,” where he has wooed audiences with his original shamanistic…

[botboots]

Saw that your requests were open so what about TFP cons with an adorkable teen human reader? A really close friend (the emotional support bundle of joy™) that is really artistic, kind, understanding and just a pure cinnamon roll, what would be the bots reaction to the lil' human? Optimus, Ratchet,Bulkhead, Arcee, BB, and if you do the kids then the kids. If not the other bots, stay safe!

im back!! so sorry for the long ass wait, had so much going on in my life recently (graduating, going back home, etc.) but hopefully i'll be back to posting somewhat regularly! tysm for the continuous support :] love seeing the notifs pop up every day this is one of the first asks in my inbox (and i completely forgot that the prompt said reader was part of the cons... whoops) and i've wanted to get it done for a while now! have so many more to get through but will get them done eventually - this isn't the best but its cute <3 and you can 100% tell who my favs are lmao warnings: none word count: 939 (GN reader)

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Optimus:

he finds your outlook on things is a nice change of pace compared to the more pessimistic views that some members of the team can have at times

values your compassion greatly, often turning to you as a confidant over the time you’ve gotten to know each other. a mission went wrong and he’s putting all the blame on himself? you’re there to reassure him in a heartbeat, reminding him that he did his best and there’s always another chance; you keep him grounded

has an innate interest in art and writing - he used to be an archivist, after all

so he enjoys watching you indulge in your hobby, your excitement about it reminds him of his younger years of being a clerk at iacon when he would become giddy over a newfound archaic text

he’s very fond of you and makes sure you know it, taking note of the small things you like and getting you whatever little gift he can manage to find - genuinely thinks you’re cute and likes seeing you happy :] 

Ratchet:

while it may have taken him a little longer than the others to warm up to you fully, he grew to start looking forward to your company (despite his his best efforts to hide it)

he appreciates your quiet company; you’re much less rambunctious than both the other humans and his own team - you complain a lot less too, probably one of his favorite qualities about you

like optimus, your bubbly attitude gives him a much needed break from the dreary duties that come with being the autobot medic

you often find yourselves working in tandem, with you sitting on the couch working on your newest project while he stands at his terminal typing away. occasionally you’ll walk over with a nervous smile, and with a roll of his optics he’ll lower a servo for you to climb into and lift you up onto the corner of the console, huffing when you chirp a thank you before the both of you quietly return to your tasks (he enjoys it, really)

while he’s not one to vent his frustrations to you, he’ll always be open to listen to you vent about yours. even if he doesn’t respond with much, he’ll offer logical solutions and observations for whatever issue you’re having

Bulkhead:

the big guy loves art, having been exposed to his fair share of it by miko, and is very encouraging when it comes to your projects

he might not get some of the nuances or meanings of the things you make, but he tries - oftentimes making you laugh a bit at the sheer amount he misses. it’s endearing though, and you appreciate the effort

too fidgety to sit and watch you do anything for too long, but he’ll offer to drive you to a vista for some inspiration while he does his usual scouting routes, miko tagging along of course. she’ll probably bring her sketchbook with her and sit next to you and draw, chattering the entire time while blasting some music from her ipod, offering you one of her earbuds

Arcee:

similar to ratchet she takes a while to get used to you, a little cold at first to your attempts at friendliness

she notices how happy you seem to make everyone else and eventually makes a legitimate pass at being friendly despite how awkward it feels

but with how eagerly you accept it she doesn’t feel as bad, sighing in relief as you immediately start filling her in on how much you’ve enjoyed your time with the autobots

she’s not much of a conversationalist (especially when it comes to humans) so your chattiness is almost a relief - not having to keep up fake interest and energy with someone puts her in a more comfortable position; especially since you’re not one to comment on it like others tend to

will sit and watch you work on whatever your newest project is, a comfortable silence shared between the two of you

rambles about random stuff from her past sometimes - you turn out to be one of the few people she trusts enough to mindlessly dump her thoughts to, both good and bad

Bumblebee:

one of the first to get to know you, overly excited about having a fresh face around

super curious when he sees you working on something, a barrage of questions translated from mechanical chirps and whirrs with the help (and annoyance) of ratchet

he’ll actually try and mimic some of your art on the walls of hidden ditches where he and rafael hang out, excitedly bringing you along to show off his latest work and buzzing happily when you praise it

will eventually, with your encouragement, try and make something original - he ends up finding it pretty soothing and an easier way to feel understood; communicating his feelings without words can be unsurprisingly helpful for someone who can’t use any of his own

you’ll spend hours hanging out and working on your stuff - he likes when you help him with his own art, adding your own brushstrokes to the concrete wall

he’ll let you sit up on his shoulder just to watch him make whatever he feels like making, or even just taking you on joyrides in the desert where he doesnt need to worry about anything going wrong

while it’s usually you, him and raf hanging out he does enjoy spending solo time with you - usually in silence or one-sided conversations, but you understand each other well enough without words

will also figure out what your favorite songs are and surprise you with them; he loves when you get all giddy about literally anything

[ezukll]

⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝗔𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗼𝗱 𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 🎤

𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗔𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 ♈︎

Asteroid Singer in Aries could indicate that a person has innate talents for music that are fueled by their passion and drive. They may have an intense drive for self-expression that makes them want to share their artistic talents with the world. Their music may be driven by a passionate and fiery spirit, and perhaps even the desire to create something new and exciting. They may have a strong urge to be noticed and be seen for what they have to offer.

𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗧𝗮𝘂𝗿𝘂𝘀 ♉︎

Asteroid Singer in Taurus could indicate a person with strong musical abilities that are rooted in a grounded and practical approach. They may have a naturally good ear for music and a refined understanding of the technicalities of music. Their musical abilities are guided by a strong sense of logic and stability, rather than by spontaneous flashes of inspiration. They may approach their music with a sense of patience and dedication, aiming to hone their skills over time. They may use their musical talents in a reliable and dependable way, focusing on creating music with a lasting and tangible impact.

𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗚𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗶 ♊︎

Asteroid Singer in Gemini could indicate a person who approaches music with a sharp and agile mind. They may have a quick-witted and intellectually driven approach to their musical abilities, and have an inherent aptitude for learning and assimilating new information. They may have an intuitive understanding of melody, rhythm and harmony, and have the ability to quickly make connections and draw out their musical talents. Their musical abilities could manifest through different genres and styles, and they may have a broad and eclectic understanding of music that allows them to explore and experiment.

𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗖𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿 ♋︎

Asteroid Singer in Cancer could indicate a person with a naturally sensitive and emotive nature when it comes to music. They may have an intuitive connection with their musical abilities that stems from a very deep and personal place. Their music may be driven by an emotional core and may carry a profound depth and resonance. They may approach their music with a heartfelt and compassionate approach, and their music may have the capacity to evoke deep and powerful feelings. Their musical abilities may be expressed through a highly personal and meaningful way, and they may have a strong intuition for knowing how to express their emotions.

𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗟𝗲𝗼 ♌︎

Asteroid Singer in Leo could indicate a person with naturally creative and artistic abilities when it comes to music. They may have a strong desire to express themselves and be seen for their creative talents. Their musical abilities may be guided by a strong sense of pride and self-worth, and they could have a natural flair for performing and being the center of attention. Their music may be driven by a powerful desire to create something bold and memorable, and they could use their musical talents as a way to gain recognition and appreciation.

𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗩𝗶𝗿𝗴𝗼 ♍︎

Asteroid Singer in Virgo could indicate a person who approaches their musical abilities with a pragmatic and systematic attitude. They may have an innate understanding of the nuances and details of music, and may be able to grasp the complexities of melody, rhythm, and harmony with a critical mindset. Their musical abilities may be driven by a keen attention to detail and a desire to refine their skills over time. They may approach music with a calculated and strategic approach, aiming to improve their abilities and create something precise and refined

𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗟𝗶𝗯𝗿𝗮 ♎︎

Asteroid Singer in Libra could indicate a person who approaches music with a sense of balance and harmony. They may have a well-rounded understanding of music that encompasses different genres and styles, and they could have a natural inclination towards harmony and symmetry. They may express their musical abilities through a focus on cooperation and collaboration, and may have the ability to bring people together through music. Their musical abilities could manifest through combining different styles and influences, and they could have an intuitive understanding of artistic balance and aesthetic appeal.

𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗦𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗽𝗶𝗼 ♏︎

Asteroid Singer in Scorpio could indicate a person who approaches their musical abilities with a powerful and intense approach. They may have deep and passionate creative energies that are driven by a strong need to express their inner depths and emotions. Their musical abilities may be guided by a strong sense of intuition and instinct, and their music may be driven by deep emotions and intense feelings. They may approach music with a strong sense of passion and intensity, and they could use their musical talents to express the more cathartic and transformative aspects of life.

𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗦𝗮𝗴𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘂𝘀 ♐︎

Asteroid Singer in Sagittarius could indicate a person who approaches their musical abilities with a adventurous and open-minded approach. They may have a naturally expansive and curious mindset when it goes to music, and they could have an instinctive thirst for learning and exploring different genres and styles. Their musical abilities may be guided by a strong sense of optimism and a desire to expand their horizons, and they could use music as a way to discover new things, gain new perspectives, and experiment with different forms of self-expression.

𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗖𝗮𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗻 ♑︎

Asteroid Singer in Capricorn could indicate a person who approaches their musical abilities in a methodical and logical way. They may have a clear-headed and strategic approach to music that is driven by practical considerations. They could approach their music with a grounded and pragmatic mindset, and they could have the ability to hone their skills through consistent practice and dedication. Their musical abilities may be guided by a strong sense of discipline and commitment, and they could use their musical talents as a way to gain stability and structure in their lives.

𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗔𝗾𝘂𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘂𝘀 ♒︎

Asteroid Singer in Aquarius could indicate a person who approaches their musical abilities with a futuristic and innovative attitude. They may have a natural desire to experiment and break traditional boundaries when it comes to music. They could have a strong instinct for creativity and artistic expression, and they could use their musical talents to create something unique and new. They could think outside the box when it comes to their music, and have the ability to think outside conventional frameworks. Their musical abilities might manifest through a strong sense of experimentation and innovation, and they could experiment with unexpected combinations and new sounds.

𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗣𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗲𝘀 ♓︎

Asteroid Singer in Pisces could indicate a person with an innate connection to the metaphysical and spiritual aspects of music. They may have a naturally intuitive and profound connection with music, and they could use their musical talents to express their deep and abstract understanding of life and the human experience. They may express their musical abilities through a spiritual and esoteric lens, and they could use music as a way to tap into higher realms of reality. Their musical abilities could manifest through exploring the unseen and supernatural aspects of life, and they could have an intuitive understanding of the deeper meanings and significance of music.

[mercurianchild]

Venus in the 10th house

⭐️Venus in the 10th house: Illuminating the Path to Professional Passion⭐️

In the realm of the natal chart, Venus graces the 10th house with her radiant presence, infusing the sphere of career and public image with her unique charm and allure. Here, amidst the dynamic landscape of professional pursuits, Venus invites you to explore the depths of your ambitions and aspirations. Imagine a canvas painted with the colors of ambition and drive, as you navigate the pathways to success with grace and elegance. With Venus in the 10th house, your career becomes a reflection of your inner values and creative vision, a platform to share your gifts and make a meaningful impact on the world.

Whether you’re a trailblazing entrepreneur, a visionary artist, or a compassionate leader, Venus encourages you to shine brightly in the public eye, to embrace your unique talents and contributions with confidence and authenticity.

But Venus in the 10th house goes beyond mere external recognition; it speaks to the journey of self-discovery and personal fulfillment. As you ascend the ladder of success, Venus reminds you to stay true to your heart’s desires, to lead with integrity and authenticity, and to never lose sight of your inner compass amidst the demands of the outside world. With Venus as your guide, your career becomes a sacred dance of passion and purpose, where every step forward is infused with beauty and meaning. Embrace the journey with open arms, and let Venus illuminate your path to professional fulfillment and beyond.

Venus in the 10th house exudes a magnetic allure that captivates those around you, drawing them into your orbit with ease. This placement infuses your professional endeavors with charm, grace, and an undeniable sense of charisma.

Imagine a spotlight shining down on your career path, illuminating your talents and achievements for all to see. With Venus in the 10th house, you effortlessly command attention and admiration in your professional sphere, leaving a lasting impression wherever you go. Whether you’re presenting a project in the boardroom, leading a team to success, or showcasing your creative talents on stage, your innate charm and poise set you apart from the crowd. People are naturally drawn to your magnetic presence, eager to bask in the warmth of your energy and expertise.

But it’s not just your outer achievements that capture people’s attention; it’s the way you carry yourself with confidence and authenticity. Venus in the 10th house encourages you to embrace your unique gifts and talents, allowing your inner beauty to shine through in everything you do.

In essence, Venus in the 10th house infuses your professional persona with an irresistible allure that leaves a lasting impression on all who encounter you. Embrace the power of your magnetic presence, and watch as doors open and opportunities abound in your career journey.

[sictransitgloriamvndi]

“Art is a kind of innate drive that seizes a human being and makes him its instrument. The artist is not a person endowed with free will who seeks his own ends, but one who allows art to realize its purposes through him”. - Carl Jung

[bluegarners]

What do you think Dick would be like if his parents didn’t die? (Please ignore the court of owls stuff for this thought experiment)

hm. i had to really think about this one, and i get the feeling bruce-isms are taking over me when i say this, but i think dick would have lived a largely... unsatisfying life... had his parents never died AND he was never taken in by bruce

bc i think there really is something innate in dick that really strives for achievement and accomplishment and overall some kind of sense of responsibility that is uncommon in others. i mean, he had to have those qualities if he was going to perform with his parents on the level they were at. but also, i think that kind of drive can really only find an outlet in getting the Most out of the world

i think at some point in dick's career as a trapeze artist/gymnast working in the circus, there would be this mental block that no matter what he did in the realm of normal-world-order, he just would never be satisfied. it would never be enough. he could leave the circus at his peak, go to the olympics, win gold, try other sports, go to more extremes-- but there comes a point where the real-world says NO to people like dick grayson who just keep wanting to go to bigger and greater heights

but in the superhero-world, where NO simply just does not exist, the boundaries are endless for dick. saving people, saving the world, being robin or nightwing or whoever, never becomes just old hat. dick just has so much passion inside of him that i don't think leading a civilian life (however accomplished and high achieving he becomes as a civilian) just would never be enough

sure, i think that parent-shaped-hole inside of him would never have become a hole at all, but i think that for the rest of his life, dick would be searching for something that would fill that other invisible hole inside of him. he doesn't know what it is or where it came from or what could ever finally satisfy it, and i think that would eat up dick until the day he died

not to say i think he would live an unhappy or empty life. in fact, i think dick would go on to have a very loving, filled life and would even go on to have his own family full of children. but, in the end, dick would always be searching for that Something that's missing but he can't name. maybe there's a happy ending, but would it be satisfying? i just dont think so

[gardenofnoah]

until the wheels fall off

summary: you’ve all worked hard to see your dream come to fruition—but nothing can last forever, and there’s poison in the water that runs deeper than you knew. it doesn’t matter what katsuki says—everyone has a limit, and you seem hell bent on finding his.

wc: 11k, crossposted to AO3

tags: band!au, drummer!bkg, denki and shinsou play the guitar, vocalist!reader, reader drinks to cope, absent parent/abandonment, jealousy, smut, hurt/comfort, childhood best friends to lovers (hints at soulmates but no direct mention of it), fluff, anxiety, mentions of vomit, happy ending♡

You don’t know when it started. Part of you believes it’s always been there–as innate as the knowledge of breathing. Loving him was too involuntary to have ever been given a choice at whether you’d be wise in doing it.

You snort at the thought–how cliché.

You watch him from the other end of the bar and your throat burns as the whiskey slips down it. It’s become a nightly ritual for you all, though maybe it shouldn’t–tracking down the dingiest, little hole-in-the-wall bars you can find in the city you’re in for the night. Wake up, drive, showtime, drink time–every night for the last month. You should be grateful that your little quartet has gotten enough recognition in the last few years to be able to pull off a headlining tour, and you are. You’re just–feeling a little hollow, too.

Katsuki is how he always is–indifferent to the women surrounding him, nursing a beer and leaning over to mutter something to Denki over the noise of the cooing and fawning–and something about it makes you burn. You want to believe that you are nostalgic for the time long past, when it was just the four of you, coming up through the underground, trying to make a name for yourselves.

You know that’s not it, though.

You burn because he’s yours, and you feel monumentally foolish at the possessiveness that tears you up on the inside. You fight fire with fire and take another swig, chasing the way your nerves will dull by the time the drink runs empty. There’s no reason for jealousy–these are your fans, the ones you’ve all worked so hard to attract–and yet.

Or maybe it’s because he’s not yours–not really. This band was the joint dream of the two of you–started in your mother’s basement when you were children. Tiny noisemakers that only wanted to play, who grew and learned and realized that what you could do together had the potential to really be something. You pulled in Denki and Shinsou, and then it became what it is now–the up and coming indie band reaching more milestones than you ever thought it would. But the more you reach, the more you feel the need to sink your claws into him–to tether him to you. It strikes you as a little ironic that you’ve worked as hard as you have, only to be the thing that wishes to hold him back.

____________________________________________________________

The first time you were truly recognized was a shock to you all–you had been huddled in the living room of your shitty little apartment–writing, planning, daydreaming–when you got the call from your newly-acquired manager that your last single had been added to the Spotify artists to watch playlist. Denki hooped and hollered, clamoring over Shinsou in his excitement, when you felt the weight of strong arms pulling you back into a broad chest. Katsuki said nothing, just rested his chin on your head while you both watched Denki victimize your poor bandmate, and you found that you cared more for the feeling of the embrace of your childhood best friend than you did the recognition you’d worked so hard for.

It was then that you realized you were well and truly fucked.

____________________________________________________________

Two years later, here you are–nursing a too-strong drink in the corner of a bar you don’t know the name of. Shinsou sits to your right, and watches you watch Katsuki for longer than any friend should. He clears his throat and you jump, having completely forgotten he was there.

“You know,” he starts, leaning in closer to you so he doesn’t have to shout over the noise, “You could just tell him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes as he tips back his own beer. “Sure,” he says, setting it down on the bartop with a soft clink, “and I was born yesterday.”

Stupid, idiot Shinsou, with his too-honed people reading skills, figured out your infatuation with your bandmate far earlier than even you did. He’d kept it between the two of you, and you were grateful for it. Even if he still pestered you about it when the opportunity presented itself.

“I’m just saying–it’s not like the feeling isn’t mutual.”

“You don’t know that,” you say too sharply.

“Oh, please,” he waves a hand, dismissing you and your sudden hostility, “We’re around each other constantly. Whatever shit you guys have going on is damn near suffocating.”

You don’t believe him. It’s always been different with you and Katsuki, because you’ve just always had each other. You quite literally haven’t gone a day without him–your mothers were next door neighbors and close friends, so it was either your house or his, every day. That kind of proximity gave way to a friendship that was, and is still, unlike your other relationships. And when you started writing songs together, that brought you even closer–exchanging pieces of yourselves with each other to create something meaningful to both of you. There was never an opportunity to hide, to withdraw–you had always bared yourselves to one another. For some reason, laying yourself down at his feet made more sense than anything else ever did.

You wave a hand at the bartender, motioning for another drink. Shinsou eyes you, and you ignore it, not wanting to hear the lecture about how you’ve had enough. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him focus on something above your head, and your stomach drops at the grin that spreads across his face.

“Here comes your leash,” he whispers to you, kicking your shin softly under the bar. You don’t have time to retort–a heavy weight against your back cuts you off.

“Fuck are you doin’?” Katuski mutters into your ear, leaning against you, forcing you to brace yourself with a hand against the bar. There’s no heat in his words, but there’s something else–something that makes your chest squeeze when you realize it might be concern.

“Ordering a drink,” you tell him plainly, like there’s no reason he should be asking you that. Nevermind that it’s a little slurred when it comes out of your mouth.

“How many have you had?”

“I–uh. Two.”

He looks at Shinsou for confirmation, who only shakes his head. He lets out a heavy sigh, holding out a hand in front of the bartender, stopping them from setting the drink down.

“No more. We’re leaving.”

He ignores your arguments and all but hauls you off the bar stool, dragging you outside with Denki and Shinsou. You berate him until you step outside–the cold air making you shiver, cutting off your complaints. He throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side as he leads you back to the tour bus parked down a few blocks. Your hazy mind tells you to press further into the warmth of his body, but you have enough sense to stop that thought before it becomes an action. You hear his voice in your ear and fight the urge to close your eyes.

“What’s been goin’ on with you?”

The cold is sobering, but not nearly enough to make it easy to have this conversation. Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth and to speak feels like too much effort, so you manage a little hm? in response, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. You wonder who allowed such an uneven sidewalk to be put here as you stumble over it.

Katuski’s grip on you tightens. You think you hear his teeth crunch together with the way he grits them before relaxing his jaw. You wonder if it’s out of anger, and if he’s been shoving it down for a while.

“Why’ve you been drinking so much?”

“I dunno what you’re talking about,” you say through a hiccup, and you realize that it’s for the second time tonight. Deny until it’s true, you think. Deny until you believe it, too.

That stops him in his tracks, and you hear Denki and Shinsou stop behind you.

“Go on,” Katuski tells them over his shoulder, “we’ll be there in a minute.”

You watch them walk ahead, whispering lowly to each other. You get the sneaking suspicion that they’re talking about the two of you, and then you laugh a little, because of course they are. Katsuki waits until they’re out of sight, and then turns you–a little abruptly, making your head spin–to face him. You want to shrink from his stare, because he’s never looked at you like this and it stings like a slap.

“Listen, if this is too much for you and you need to stop, we can. M’not gonna to watch you–”

“Kat,” you cut him off, mustering all of your consciousness to speak clearly, “I’m fine. Just had a little too much tonight, that’s all.”

He eyes you, clearly not convinced. “It’s not just tonight. You’ve been doin’ this–”

“I said I’m fine,” you say, and you can’t help the edge in your voice. You pause and suck in a breath, a last ditch effort to compose yourself. Knowing that it might work on anyone else, but not the man who has you by the shoulders right now. You try anyway.

“Really,” you tell him, reaching up to wrap your fingers around his wrist and feeling the muscle strain underneath them. Wondering distantly if he knows that his grip might be bruising. Or you think it would be, if you could feel it. “I promise I’m okay. Thanks for checking on me.”

He holds your gaze for a long while, and you hope he’s not looking too deeply into you. Hope that he could go easy on you, just this once.

“M’gonna be watching you,” he warns, but his voice is soft. You smile at him, and it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’d hope so.”

_______________________________________________________________

There’s something that happens when you’re on stage. You’ve never been able to put it into words. Before you’d all had your taste of the limelight, you were terrified of it–terrified of opening yourself up to a crowd of people, displaying your insides like a sick game of show-and-tell while they looked on. And for a while, it was hard–you leaned on the boys considerably to help you through it.

Now, years later, things are different. You still need your boys–just not in the same way.

Waiting in the wings, you feel it again–the calm that settles over you like a thick blanket. You close your eyes, letting the guitar riffs that Shinsou and Denki play wash over you. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve heard them play it–the opener is always your favorite part. You feel like you are drifting through a bottomless ocean–just floating, willingly exposed and vulnerable. Your music is just that–ethereal, unsettling. Like you feel yourself getting comfortable but shouldn’t.

You feel the heavy beat begin from Katsuki, and you open your eyes.

From where you stand, you’re able to see the complete profile of him. It never fails to leave you a little breathless–for someone that is always set on a hair trigger, watching him settle into a place of serenity while he plays has always captivated you. The tension he holds so closely leaves him almost entirely– his body moves intuitively, and you think he could play just as well in the dark. You begin your own walk to the front of the stage, mourning the sight at your back. Lamenting that you should’ve made the intro to this song way, way longer.

The crowd lets out a collective cheer at your approach, and it never fails to make you smile. All at once it feels like coming home–the show-and-tell feeling turning into a mutual give and take between you and those in front of you. When you reach for your microphone and begin, it’s less of a performance and more of a conversation–calling in every single person in the audience, and inviting them into the story you’re weaving. It helps that this venue is as beautiful as it is–tall arches and ornate woodwork allow you to slip further into the character you’ve carefully crafted. Something opens inside of you, and you have no qualms about letting it out to roam freely.

Tonight is a good night, and you all feel it. The song wraps up and you turn to face the boys, immediately laughing at the overzealous thumbs up Denki gives you. Shinsou nods at you approvingly, and when you meet Katsuki’s gaze, it nearly knocks you breathless. He’s wide open and you can see it in his face. He holds you there for what feels like forever, and you have to reach back to grab at the microphone stand to steady yourself. He’s seemingly forgiven your trespasses from last night, the look of concern having given way to something approaching adoration. He mouths a small you okay? and you swear you hear it inside your head like he’s right next to you. You grin at him, showing your teeth as you nod your head. He rewards you with that tiny, devastating smirk on that stupid, beautiful face and you turn on your heel, shaking your head to snap out of it.

“Anyway…” you drawl into the mic, pulling the shawl you wear into yourself dramatically and laughing a little at the knowing whistles from the crowd, “how are we doing tonight?”

____________________________________________________________

“What was that?” Denki all but screeches, shaking you by the shoulders as you all walk out of the venue. He’s nearly jumping up and down on the sidewalk in his excitement, and it’s so infectious that you feel it start to move through you, too.

“Dude,“ he says, very serious in his expression, still both grabbing and pushing at you like he can’t contain the feeling inside his body–or even decide what that feeling is– “you were on fuckin’ fire!”

You laugh at that, feeling a little bashful. It was still jarring, even now–when the lights go out, you return to the person you were before. Everything has changed and everything is still the same as it always was. It feels too much like a rough comedown.

“You guys were great,” you say, and you mean it, “I’m only as good as you are.”

“Nah,” Shinsou’s voice comes from behind, trapping a still-bubbling Denki in a headlock to get him off of you, “Denki sucked. Something was different tonight with you.”

Shinsou ignores the indignant hey! from the man in his grasp as he tows him down the street, creating some distance between the two of them and you and Katsuki. You don’t doubt for a second that he’s doing it on purpose. For as sharp-edged and painfully honest as Shinsou might be, he really could be a great wingman.

Like you’ve summoned him with your thoughts, Katsuki’s matching your stride beside you. He pulls your arm toward him, looping it though his own.

“They’re right, you know.”

“Yeah?” you smile up at him, wiggling your eyebrows a little bit. “Gonna sing your praises to me, too?”

His free hand comes up to cover your face, pushing you away from him, despite your arm still looped in his. He lets out the most dramatic noise of disgust you’ve ever heard when you stick your tongue out to lick his palm.

“God, you’re gross,” he shakes his head, but he’s smiling, and you think you’d do it a hundred more times if it meant you could see him like this again.

It’s quiet between you as you walk–comfortably so. You let yourself lean into his side a little bit, just to see if he’ll shove you off–if he thinks you’re messing with him. He doesn’t, so you stay.

“Do you ever worry?” you ask suddenly, shaking yourself from your reverie with a question you didn’t know you wanted an answer to.

“Mm?”

“About, like…the sustainability of this. Like it’s great, of course. It’s awesome that we have this momentum now. But it can’t last forever, right?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you can feel him thinking it over. You keep walking, arm through his, and you focus on the cloud of steam your breath releases into the cold in front of you–suddenly a little nervous to hear his response.

“It probably won’t last forever,” he says, with a confidence that jars you a bit, “but it doesn’t have to.”

He says it with such finality that you’re not sure how to respond. You’re torn from your thoughts when he pulls you to a stop next to him.

“Hey,” he calls to you gently, and you meet his gaze. He has that look again from before, except there’s no crowd here to pull you away from it. You have no choice but to surrender to it.

“I’m ridin’ this train til the wheels fall off,” he grins, holding out a pinky to you in a gesture that has something inside you mourning over the days of childhood pinky promises long behind you, “me and you til then, yeah?”

You wrap your pinky around his, smiling softly. “Til the wheels fall off.”

____________________________________________________________

It’s unfortunate, the way you test the strength of that promise weeks later.

You’ve all just wrapped up the last show of the tour, back again in some random, back alley bar. Denki had suggested it and Katsuki had protested, clearly wishing to avoid a repeat of your last few experiences. You’d waved him off, telling him it’d be good to get out one last time. He and Shinsou had exchanged looks, no doubt some silent agreement assigning the purple haired man to babysit you all night. So be it, you’d thought. You’d be fine.

An hour in, you realize that you definitely won’t be fine.

You and Shinsou sit at one end of the bar–he’s drawing diagrams on a napkin, which are supposedly guitar tabs but look to you like a foreign language. All at once you feel an acute sense of anxiety–one you’d been feeling over the length of the tour, that is apparently coming to a head right now.

You flag the bartender down for another drink–straight liquor, your second of the last hour. Shinsou clears his throat next to you.

“You think that’s a good idea?” he asks lowly, trying and failing to catch your eyes.

You wave him off, not bothering with a reply as you take a too-big sip of your now full drink. It doesn’t have the effect that you’d hoped for, and you feel the anxiety climb higher still up your throat.

It’s not clear to you at first why you feel like this–you know tomorrow you will go home and start thinking about new music, the next project, like you always do. But there’s also the sinking feeling that you’ll be alone for the first time in two months.

At some point in the last few years, the four of you had made enough money to find your own living spaces. You’re still close–you all live in the same building–but there are far more walls, literal and metaphorical, that separate you now. The boys all have side gigs and brand deals, things separate from you.

You have this. You have put the entirety of your being into this band, and it is all you have.

There’s part of you that fears the end will come sooner for you than the rest–that the decision to put all of your eggs in this particular basket was the wrong one. Not because you feel any sense of regret, but because there is a part of you that fears the inevitable abandonment, should any of the boys start to feel like they have nothing left to give to you.

Rationally, you know it’s not true. You know that the commitments they have made to you and the band are genuine and strong. You know that Katsuki does not make promises he can’t keep.

But right now, you’re wound up and unpleasantly drunk, and when you turn to your left, you see Katsuki with a woman you’ve never seen before. You don’t look at her face—you don’t care to, because you are so fixated on Katsuki’s. For the first time, he’s not immediately indifferent–he even looks mildly interested, talking low with heads tilted toward one another in a display that looks sickeningly intimate while she shows him something on her phone, and something inside you shatters.

You tip the rest of your drink back, and order another.

“Whoa, hey,” Shinsou’s voice comes from your left, sounding genuinely startled now. “What are you doing?”

You feel the break outwardly, like it’s done its damage on the inside and is now trying to find a way out. Shinsou follows your gaze toward Katsuki’s seat, immediately understanding.

“Stop,” he tells you, in a firmness you haven’t heard before, “You don’t know what that is.”

You shake your head, smiling a little, but it’s sad and broken and stuns Shinsou silent. You throw your full-again drink back with a speed that nearly triggers your gag reflex. You bow your head for a moment, taking a deep breath in, trying to steady yourself. Nevermind the spinning walls around you. It all has to come down sometime.

“What’s it matter?” you ask, a little too loudly, “It wasn’t going to last forever.”

You know that the last drink was a mistake when you nearly topple over yourself trying to get down from the barstool. Shinsou grabs your arm to steady you and you wrench away from him, throwing yourself off balance again. You hear him hiss at you to be careful, and then that people are staring, but it’s too late. It happens slowly, which you find strange–you’re falling and then you’re not, and instead someone has you by your armpits, all but dragging you outside. You don’t realize you’re standing upright until Katsuki is in front of you–glaring down at you, all anger and something far worse–something that looks a lot like disappointment.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he spits out, and it’s all you can do to stare at him, because everything is still spinning and for as angry as he’s always been, it’s never, ever been pointed at you.

You can’t get your mouth to catch up with your brain, and then it doesn’t matter at all because you realize with startling clarity that you’re going to vomit. You have the wherewithal to lurch into the nearby alley, and it’s a struggle to keep yourself upright–bracing yourself on the slimy, damp brick of the building in front of you while you empty your stomach onto the street.

“For fuck’s sake,” you hear beside you, and everything is fuzzy–you lean your forehead against the wall in front of you, trying to find some semblance of equilibrium. You feel the weight of your hair lift from your neck, but you can’t get your mouth to form a thank you.

It’s another five minutes before you’re confident that your stomach has settled. You push off the wall, slowly, testing out your balance. It’s still shit, as it turns out–Katsuki catches you as you sway a little too far to the right. You feel a little like a scruffed kitten, and that makes you laugh, only it comes out choked because you feel tears coming and there’s no defense left to stop them.

“What is goin’ on with you?” he asks, still incredulous but subdued now, bringing a thumb up to swipe at your tears. He’s soft again in the way that’s familiar to you, and that makes it hard to stop the wobble of your lip or the whimper that punches its way out of your mouth.

“Oi,” he half-barks, now closer to you—letting you lean into his chest to keep you steady. He brings a hand up to hold the back of your head and you squeeze your eyes shut, suddenly feeling sick again. Knowing it has nothing to do with the alcohol.

“Start talkin’,” and you know it’s not a suggestion, and you think that it’s so unfair that he couldn’t wait until morning to ask you this, when you’d certainly be a little more guarded. But he doesn’t, and you think that it’s on purpose, and you know you can’t stop yourself.

“You’re…gonna leave me,” you whimper, and it comes out slurred and broken and so pathetic–you almost wish you were still puking because it would be less mortifying than this, “you all–you’ll all leave and,” you cut yourself off with a stuttered breath, “I’ll be by myself again.”

And you don’t dare look at him right now, so you stand there with your eyes closed, pressing your forehead into his collarbone, praying that the earth opens wide and swallows you whole. It occurs to you a moment later that he’s still holding you there, and he hasn’t said anything. It’s another before you hear him sigh–deeply, like it’s effort, and then your feet aren’t touching the ground anymore. He maneuvers you onto his back, ignoring your weak groans of protest.

“You need to hold on,” he tells you over his shoulder.

You try your best to–your arms circle around his neck, but it feels like all of the strength has left your body. He leans forward to compensate, making sure you don’t fall off of him. He starts walking, and your brain catches up enough to realize after a few moments that he’s not walking toward the bus.

“Where’re we going?”

“Hotel down the street,” he grits out, and it’s short in a way that is so wounding it startles the breath out of you. You put your head down on his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut tight, pleading with yourself not to start crying again. If he feels the tears soaking into his shirt, he doesn’t say anything, and you suppose you can be grateful for that.

He doesn’t say anything the whole way there. He walks into the lobby with you still on his back, and you look anywhere but the concierge, a little more sober than you were before and wholly embarrassed. Katsuki hauls you up the stairs to the third floor, opens the door and sets you on the bed. He mutters a quick don’t move and promptly turns, walking away from you and out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

The sound of him walking away seems horrifically amplified–the sound of his footsteps reverberating inside your skull until they fade away. If there was ever a time to feel alone, it’s right now, and you can’t fight the fresh wave of tears that crests so suddenly that it’s startling, even if you knew it was coming. All at once you are 6 years old again, crying for a man that walks away and does not come back.

____________________________________________________________

When Katsuki opens the door again, it startles you awake. You have no idea how much time has passed–it certainly felt like hours. Looking at the clock on the nightstand, it reads 1:45am–so you suppose it couldn’t have been that long. He has a large, plastic grocery bag with him now, and he sets it on the bed next to you, rummaging through it.

“Where’s Denki and Shinsou?” you ask quietly, feeling far too sober and deeply unsettled.

“Took the bus back,” he says matter of factly. He pulls out a sweatshirt and sweatpants that are not yours, and sets them on your lap.

“So–how are we…?”

He pauses, turning his head to look you full in the face. You lean back minutely, needing to pull away from him. The shame comes off you in waves.

“You and I are flying home tomorrow.”

And you say nothing, terribly confused and a little afraid. He sees this on your face and sighs, moving the bag to sit beside you on the bed.

“Whatever this is, the shit you’ve been doing–” he cuts himself off and takes a breath in, like he’s trying to compose himself. He takes in another breath, and tries again.

“Think it’d be good for us to go home for a few days. M’sure my old hag misses you.”

Your mind feels like a thousand puzzle pieces, twisting and sliding past each other. It takes several silent moments before your pieces click, and when they do, the reality is devastating.

He’s taking you home because he can’t deal with this anymore. Because he has nothing left to give you.

“Katsuki,” you choke out, reaching for him across the bed. He takes your hand in his, pulling it to his lap and squeezing gently.

“I know,” he murmurs, gently, like he’s trying to placate you, “I know. We’ll figure it out.”

____________________________________________________________

You blink slowly back into consciousness when you hear shuffling somewhere in the room. You turn your head, and the clock reads 9:36AM. You know immediately that Katsuki has been up for hours. You try to raise your head to look for him, and the pain in your skull is so shocking that you gasp, dropping back down into the pillow.

“Here,” Katsuki says from above you, and you crack an eye open to see his palm outstretched, two little tablets tucked inside. You take them gratefully and then grab the glass of water from his other hand, gulping them down without a semblance of grace. The inside of your mouth is gritty and it makes your stomach turn again, despite nothing being in it.

“When are we leaving?” you rasp, not really willing to look at him yet.

“Two hours,” he says, setting a bag on the nightstand next to your head, “there’s breakfast in there, if you want it. You should shower.”

You grimace at that–you don’t think you’ll ever want to eat again. You concede that you probably do stink to death of booze–you sit up, carefully this time, and grab for the sweatset he’d left on the bed last night. It dawns on you that only your side of the bed is disheveled.

“Where did you sleep last night?”

He turns his head to look at you, and the look on his face brings on a new wave of shame that you feel physically. He doesn’t answer–you find that it might be better if you don’t know, because if you did, then you’d know you haven’t asked the right question. You get up without a word and walk into the bathroom, letting the door click shut behind you.

____________________________________________________________

You move through the rest of the morning like a zombie, and you barely register that time has passed at all until you look up and notice that you’re on the airplane. You wonder how you’re even here right now, considering you had none of your things with you when you left the bar last night, but Katsuki has a bag with him that he didn’t before, so you figure he’s got it covered. He’s taken the window seat next to you, and you wonder if it’s because he knows you hate flying. You pull the hood of the sweatshirt that’s not yours up over your head, tightening the strings around your face, not too keen on the chance of anyone recognizing you in this sorry state. The plane begins to move and your breathing picks up, which is embarrassing because of all of the things to make you anxious in the last 24 hours, it feels unnecessary for this to top the list. You try to take in a few deep breaths, and it seems to make the feeling worse. You’re damn near ready to come out of your skin and the plane hasn’t even left the ground yet.

You hear movement next to you–what sounds like plastic clicking together, and then Katsuki has you in his arms–cradling your head into the crook of his neck. The hard underside of the arm rest he’s evidently moved up presses uncomfortably into your side, but you let him hold you because you need it more than anything right now.

“You’re alright,” you feel him press a kiss into the fabric covering your head and it feels so much like grief that you can taste it yourself, “I got you.”

____________________________________________________________

He drops you off in front of your mother’s door in a car that isn’t his a few hours later. You haven’t said a word since before you boarded the plane, and he holds an arm out to stop you from getting out of the car. You turn to look at him, and his face is devoid of almost all emotion. You wonder for whose sake it is that he’s doing that.

“I’ll come over for dinner,” he offers, like it’s a consolation prize. You’d look forward to it if this were any other scenario, but right now it just feels like pity. You shake your head.

“I’ll call you in the morning,” you tell him, and you look down at the arm that’s still extended toward you. He doesn’t move it.

“Oi,” he whispers, prompting you to look at him.

“Til the wheels fall off,” murmured when you do.

You sniff at that, eyes shut tight and nodding sharply because that’s all you can do right now. He squeezes your knee and lets you go.

When you get out of the car, you realize that it’s been a while since you stood on your own.

____________________________________________________________

The reunion with your mother brings fresh tears and hugs that you didn’t realize you missed as badly as you did. She all but drags you inside, shoving you into a seat at the kitchen table. You realize that she knew you were coming, and you wonder if she knows why.

After a moment, she sets a mug of tea down in front of you and takes a seat across from you. You close your eyes and breathe in the aromatic steam, suddenly feeling incredibly homesick despite literally sitting in it. You open your eyes when you feel her hand circle around yours.

“My baby,” she says softly, brushing a thumb over your knuckles, “what’s going on?”

“Oh, mom,” you choke out, pulling away to drop your face into your hands. You hear her drag her chair closer to yours, pulling you into her arms when she’s close enough. She pulls your hood down to run her fingers through your hair, gently cooing to you until your sobs turn into quiet sniffles.

“I don’t know where to start,” you rasp after a moment, sitting up and wiping your eyes with your sleeve. She keeps the proximity, running a hand up and down your back.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

____________________________________________________________

It’s hard to talk about it with your mother. You are terrified of the disappointment–by all accounts it would definitely seem that you deserve it, but it doesn’t come. She sits next to you, rubbing your back and fussing over hairs that hang in your face while you spill your guts onto the table: the fear, the abandonment, the numbing that took it all away until it didn’t. The loneliness that cuts you deeper than you ever thought it could.

“What about our boys?” she asks then, and you smile a little at the way she says it. You know that she loves them as much as you do, which is a funny sight to see–three intimidatingly large, tattooed men huddled around mugs of tea, sitting at your mother’s table. She fawns over them every time you all come around, and it warms you from the inside.

“They’re fine–they’re there, it’s just… I don’t know. I think I’m afraid that one day they might not be, and I don’t know why.”

She looks at you for a moment, like she’s considering her next words.

“I think you might know why, honey.”

You look back at her then, knowing what she’ll say before she says it. Unwilling to say it first.

“It’s hard to trust the word of a man when the one who was supposed to always be there left so suddenly.”

You stare down at your tea, not feeling what you thought you would. Mostly, you know she’s right. You can’t trust yourself to speak yet, so you don’t.

“I can’t know what that was like for you,” she starts softly, hand dropping to squeeze at your knee. Your heart constricts at the way it feels familiar. “And I’m so sorry that it’s something you have to carry with you. But honey, there’s a man next door who’s never known a life without you, and it doesn’t seem like he has any intention of changing that.”

Your throat gets tight and you lean into her shoulder, needing to feel grounded. The room feels like it’s spinning again.

“And of course he can’t replace your father,” she continues, leaning back into you, “but he’s someone that loves you. And that’s something worth keeping around.”

“He was with someone else last night,” you deflect, trying to convince yourself of some falsehood in your mother’s words, “at the bar. I saw them talking together.”

Your mother snorts, loud and obnoxious, like you’ve just told the world’s most ridiculous joke. Despite yourself, you laugh a little, too.

“Mom!”

“Oh, honey,” still chuckling to herself, “I don’t think so.”

“Sometimes we see what we want to see,” she continues, patting your leg, “but you know Kat. And from what I can tell, he’s never had eyes for anyone but you.”

“That’s silly,” you say, still deflecting but knowing that she’s telling the truth. And then, “I think he’s really mad at me.”

“I don’t think he is. He sounded really worried last night.”

You balk at that. “You talked to him?”

“He called to tell me you’d be coming.”

And you’re silent then, because you don’t know what to say. You don’t know if there’s anything you can say. Suddenly you are very, very tired.

“Why don’t you head upstairs?” your mother starts, grabbing the now empty mug from in front of you and walking it to the sink, “Get some sleep–I made your bed up for you. You should talk to him tomorrow.”

You nod, though she can’t see it, and you move to walk up the stairs, but stop short of the first step.

“I love you, mom.”

She turns to give you a soft smile. “I love you, my baby.”

____________________________________________________________

The dream is recurrent–you’ve tried hard to find the meaning of it, but you’re starting to come around to the idea that it might just be a comfort to your subconscious.

You’re five years old, and you don’t yet notice the bad thing that lurks on the edges of your peripheral.

You’re five years old, and everything is as it should be.

You and Katsuki construct a fort out of old sheets and couch cushions. Snow falls outside–the wind sneaks through the shutters and shrieks something menacing. But it’s warm inside, and you’re with Katsuki. You are unafraid.

He has a slight hot chocolate mustache and the tip of his tongue pokes out between the gap in his teeth, all of his focus on weaving the sheets together to create the walls of your fortress. You preoccupy yourself with the decor–you pick up a pillow and put it somewhere else, grab your mother’s potted plant and bring it in, even though it takes up too much space.

Katsuki finishes the skeleton of the structure in no time, and he joins you on the same cushion, despite you bringing in nearly every cushion in the house. You both dig into the coloring books your mother left out for you, and in no time you’ve grown bored of them–you opt to doodle on each other instead.

You draw something resembling a heart over the first joint in his thumb–a little oblong and colored outside your shaky lines. He watches you while you do it–the seeds of something old rooting into something else that he is far too young to understand. You look up at him when it’s finished and you beam, all crooked baby teeth and giggles. He goes bright red and shoves at you, shrieking about how it’s the worst thing he’s ever seen. He can do much better, he says, so he grabs your thumb and proves it to you.

It’s certainly not any better–you don’t tell him that, though. You just smile and flex your thumb, watching it move with your skin. He puts an arrow through his–bold and cartoonish, like the old animation of Cupid’s arrow. It tickles when the marker passes over the edge of your palm, and he barks at you to stop squirming.

Your mother comes in with snacks and finds the two of you covered in marker. She doesn’t yell–she just shakes her head, laughing and looking at the two of you with an expression only to be interpreted as a soft fondness. She pulls out her camera to take a picture–makes the two of you hold hands to capture the hearts you drew.

Whether it’s the beginning of the end or the end of the beginning, you can’t be sure.

____________________________________________________________

You wake up feeling more rested than you did before, and without a hangover, for the first time in a while.

Once you’re dressed, you take a few bites from the breakfast sandwich your mother has laid out for you, and you walk out the side door, walking the few steps to Katsuki’s mother’s porch. The morning sun on your skin feels good–it’s a warmth you know you needed. You reach for the door, but you stop in your tracks when you hear his voice on the other side of it.

“I don’t know how t’make it better, ma,” he says, and it wounds you in a way you weren’t expecting, “I just want to help and I don’t know how.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and then his mother speaks. “It’s not yours to make better, Katsuki. There were terrible things that happened when you both were growing up that certainly don’t help what’s happening now.

“All you can do is be there–be a safe person to turn to,” she continues, and it’s all you can do not to sniff and give yourself away, “Things will change. It takes time.”

“I don’t care about that shit,” he grits out, but there’s no hostility in it, “Doesn’t matter how long it takes, I’ll be there. S’just–hard. To watch.”

You’re not sure you can stand to listen anymore, so you make a big production out of opening the door, making sure to alert them both to your presence. You walk into his mother’s kitchen–it’s been years since you’ve been here, and yet you’d know the layout with your eyes closed.

“Ah, my other child,” she says, standing to hug you. She kisses your cheek and shoves you down in the seat she’s just gotten up from. “You sit. I’ll make myself scarce.”

You ease into the seat awkwardly, avoiding Katsuki’s gaze. It’s quiet between you. You have no idea where to start, so you pick at the edge of the table cloth in front of you.

“You okay?” he asks softly, like if he’s too loud, it’ll bruise you. You hate it. You feel your face heat and you know you’re going to cry and you hate that too.

You summon all of your bravery and give him a watery, pathetic little smile. “No, I’m not.”

His brows furrow and he leans forward, like he wants to reach for you but stops himself. Thinks better of it. You’re almost fascinated by how hard it is for you to tell him the truth right now. You do it anyway.

“I’m—there’s a lot that I need to work through. More than I thought, evidently,” you laugh a little, and it’s all self-deprecating. You pick at a hangnail. “That’s not an excuse for what I’ve been doing, I know that. I just—“

You suck in a breath, quickly losing your resolve. Needing to lean on him one more time.

“I’m really sorry, Kat,” you choke out, finally looking up at him. Whatever he sees on your face has him out of his seat in an instant and pulling you out of yours in the next, crushing you to his chest. You wrap your arms around his middle and cling to him like a lifeline.

“I know I’m not good right now,” you say into his shirt through shuddering breaths, “I just, I’m really sorry, I don’t want you to worry–”

He moves you back to look at your face, which makes you grimace because it is almost certainly pathetic and snot covered.

“Hey,” he rasps, with far more emotion than you were anticipating, “none of that. I know. And m’always going to worry about you, you little idiot.”

You choke out a laugh at that and it softens him. He pulls you back to his chest and you feel his kiss to the top of your head.

“M’not leaving you,” he whispers into your hair, “not ever. Don’t you ever say that shit to me again.”

You want to apologize again but you know he’ll wave you off, so you just press your face further into his chest and nod.

You stand there for a while, wrapped up in him in his mother’s kitchen, before he reaches into his back pocket to grab something. He offers it to you, and it takes a second before you realize it’s your phone.

“Let dumb and dumber know you’re alive,” he says, arms still wrapped around you, “they were worried.”

You smile at that, feeling an overwhelming fondness for the men in your life. You keep an arm around Katsuki and shoot them a text with the other: i’m home and alive. love u both, talk soon. You barely have it back in your pocket before it vibrates, several times in succession, alerting you to what is almost certainly a very animated response from Denki. You realize in that moment how much you miss him.

“Stay here tonight,” Katsuki murmurs, snapping you out of your thoughts. You think back to all of the nights that you camped out in his backyard as children, with him promising to keep you safe, in his own jagged, self-inflated way. You think about how everything has changed, and everything has stayed the same.

It’s an easy yes.

____________________________________________________________

You go back and forth between houses for the next week. He gives you a little space during the day–time with your mom, time to yourself. You write some, but mostly you focus on being present. You try to stop the daydreams as they come–try to keep yourself from yearning for a different future, or ruminating on the past, so you can see where you are now. It’s easier said than done, but it’s less difficult in the evenings, when Katsuki returns and your mind quiets all other thoughts but those of him.

Freshly showered and towel clad, you’re laid across your childhood twin bed when you hear the screen door open and then close, and your heart picks up when you hear your mother greet him.

He makes it up the stairs quicker than you thought he would. You let your eyes rake over him, realizing that it’s been a while since you could really get a good look at him. He has old sweats on and he’s leaned up against your doorframe, regarding you with the same level of scrutiny, arms folded over his chest. He’s so beautiful it makes you ache.

Your eyes drift to his hands–each tucked underneath the opposite armpit– and you catch a glimpse of the thing you will always seek out: the red, misshapen curve of the heart you drew on him, etched into his skin forever. You lift your own hand up, holding it above your head to examine it. It’s there, on the first joint of your thumb like you knew it would be. The arrow has faded and blurred with time, but you turn your hand and find it still pointing straight at your heart.

You’d gotten them together, shortly after making the decision to start the band– an ode to the history behind you. But the meaning has shifted in the years since–you wonder if he feels it, too. The quiet nostalgia of the moment has your head swimming a little bit, and you don’t have it in you to stop the words that come out of your mouth.

“I love you.”

His mouth ticks up at the corner, but he doesn’t move. “I know that.”

You sit up–slowly, making sure the towel stays put–and meet his eyes. “Do you?”

He says nothing–just gestures for you to come closer with the tilt of his chin.

You push yourself up off the bed and walk toward him–awfully, awkwardly aware of your own gait–until you’re chest to chest. He unfolds his arms and reaches up to pluck the towel off your head, flinging it to the floor behind you. You squawk at him, scrambling to brush the hair that falls in your face away. He just grins, reaching to brush a few stray strands out of the way himself. The pad of his thumb lingers on your cheekbone, trailing down to brush across the plush of your bottom lip, until it settles at your chin. He grabs you there and tilts your face up to him.

“Ruined me for anyone else the day y’were born,” he breathes, and it’s so nonchalant you’d think it was just a passing thought for him, like it doesn’t shake something fundamental and ancient inside of you, “Loved you every day since.”

“You never told me,” you say, and it’s hushed–you bring both hands up to splay them across his chest, the image of his heart above the one that beats. You feel its pace pick up beneath your fingers.

“No,” he says, running his thumb around the edge of your jaw, “was waitin’ for you to see it.”

You hum a little, turning your face into his touch–nuzzling into the place where you’ve marked him forever. “And now?”

He lets his fingers drift downward, finding a new home wrapped around the nape of your neck. You let out a little sigh, and he looks pleased.

“I want to show you.”

You smile, tilting your head back to look at him fully. “Okay.”

He drops his head down until his face hovers above yours, and he tilts a little so your foreheads bump together. Both of you stay there, content to breathe and just feel, until you push up, needing more of him. He lets you brush your lips over his, savoring the soft press of your mouth, keeping you still with the hand on your neck. You do this until you both start to lose your patience, and you kiss him with more force–you hope that it does a better job of translating your feelings than you have. He’s warm and much softer than you expected, and he takes over all of your senses. There’s something both very old and novel in the way he kisses you, and behind your eyes you see a reel of the two of you, from figuring out how to walk with wobbly baby legs, to creating something far larger than the two of you–all together. It brings the sting of tears to the surface when you break apart to breathe. He kisses a stray droplet away, cradling your face in his hands.

“My little crybaby,” he coos, and you punch at his side lightly, making him chuckle.

“You’re mine, Katsuki,” you tell him, grimacing a little bit at the memory of him and that random woman at the bar. You know you are being out of your mind insane right now, but the jealousy still coils in your gut.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “‘Course I am.”

You shake your head, tightening your grip on him. “I need you to tell me.”

He presses his forehead to yours, walking you back until the backs of your knees tap your mattress. You sit, and he stands between your legs, eyes looking way, way too far into you. His hand comes up to hold your face, and the way you lean into it feels like muscle memory.

“There’s nobody for me but you,” he says, and you feel like if you blink you’ll miss something important in the way he’s looking at you, “M’yours. Always was. Always will be.”

And it’s then that you decide to do something so stupidly embarrassing that you regret it almost immediately: you hold your pinky out to him.

He blinks down at you for a second before a slow smile stretches across his face. It’s one of the most genuine you’ve ever seen on him, and when he wraps his pinky around yours and brings it to his lips, you think for the second time that you are well and truly fucked. You always would be when it came to Katsuki. But he doesn’t make promises he can’t keep.

You let out a little laugh, one that’s more incredulous than anything. “I feel out of my mind,” you tell him, leaning forward to press your face into his stomach, “do you think it always feels like this?”

“Dunno,” he says through his grin, scratching gently over your scalp, “Maybe. There’re plenty of songs about it.”

He leads you down to the bed and you go willingly, pliant against him as he settles in next to you. It’s a tight fit, especially with the way he takes up the majority of the space with his broad shoulders. You find that you don’t mind too much.

You lay your head on his chest and his arm wraps around you, fingertips brushing over your spine and dipping below the top of your towel to rub at the skin it squeezes.

“I love you,” you whisper, and you find that now that you’ve said it, you’d like to scream it from the highest peak you can find.

“I love you,” he returns, and you can’t get enough of the way it rumbles through his chest underneath you.

“Tell me again,” you tell him, twisting to look up at him. He shifts then, rolling you onto your back and hovering above you, propped up on one elbow. His fingers card through the hair just past your temple and you have to fight to keep your eyes open.

“I love you,” he says, bending to press a kiss to your lips.

____________________________________________________________

You don’t know when you fall asleep, but when you wake up it’s not yet dawn, and you are tucked into Katsuki’s armpit as he hangs halfway off the bed. It makes you smile, and it also makes you grateful that he didn’t turn over and take you off the bed with him. You shift, and realize you’re still wrapped in your towel. You look at his sleeping form, and then down at your towel again. It takes another moment of deliberation before you think, fuck it, and rip the thing off of you, dropping it onto the floor.

You finally settle back down into the bed and startle when you feel fingertips brush over your spine.

“Sorry,” you whisper, leaning toward him to press a kiss to his jaw, “did I wake you up?”

He hums, low and gravelly in his chest, and it makes you feel far too warm as he pulls you to his chest. He’d gotten rid of his sweatshirt at some point in the night—you realize now that you’re chest to chest. He notices at about the same time, head snapping up off the pillow to look at you. You feel your face heat.

“I’m sorry, I fell asleep with the towel on and didn’t want to get up, I can put something on—“

“Like hell you will,” he cuts you off, arm tightening behind you. “Feels nice.”

And it makes you smile, because it does feel nice.

He curls his body around you, leaning down to smother the side of your face in kisses. It makes you shriek, shoving at him playfully.

“Gross, stop it,” you groan, not making any real attempt to get him off of you.

“Fuck no,” he grins, kissing you again, “You’re so beautiful.”

Hearing it from Katsuki does something to you—settles the part of you that worries that you’re not enough to keep him here. It seems silly then, to keep hiding from him—to keep pieces of yourself from him in the hopes that he’ll stay long enough to try to find them. You want him to see you. You feel particularly brave and roll over onto your back, watching his eyes widen at the way you are laid completely bare for him.

He lets out a long, low breath, and you feel it when it brushes over your chest—nipples pebbling in the cold air.

He props himself up for a better view, unashamed in the way he studies you so intensely, and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed.

He reaches for you then—you close your eyes when his fingertips brush over your brow bone, content to feel the way he explores. Time moves slowly, and he takes advantage of every second that stretches before him—he’s fixated on the juncture of your jaw and your throat, and you burn under his touch. You let out a shaky exhale at the graze of his fingers down the center of your throat.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, except he’s far closer now, and you only have a second for this to register before the warmth of his hand wraps around the side of your neck to hold you there while his mouth explores the other. He’s still soft—far softer than you would ever expect him to be, all soft lips and warm, sweeping tongue—and it’s such a shock to all of your senses that you can’t help but let out a broken little whimper of his name.

He pulls back when he hears it, and you turn your head to argue but something in his face makes you pause.

If you thought you had a window into Katsuki’s soul before, this moment is the one to knock the whole house down. You hear it like he’s whispered it to you: I love you, I love you, I love you.

“Kat, I—“

He cuts you off with a kiss that brings tears to your eyes—soft but firm, as claiming as it is chaste. “I know sweetheart,” he whispers, forehead to yours. In the dark, you’re sure he’s brighter than the sun right now. You roll to your side, chest to chest again, and kiss him just because you can—because you love him and it would feel like torture to do anything else.

He presses kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, and down the stretch of your throat—you shiver when his tongue laves at the point where your shoulder meets it. He finds your hand and drags it to his lips, mouth trailing over every inch of arm he can reach. Making sure to press a kiss to his heart on your hand.

“Not gonna fuck you,” he says plainly against your wrist, shocking a laugh out of you, “not gonna put your mom through that. I jus’ wanna feel you.”

“A little presumptuous, but okay,” you tease, but it only comes out breathless when his fingers trail over your collarbone and down your breast, apparently content to test the validity of your statement.

He leaves a trail of heat with his touch that makes it hard to keep your eyes open, but you can’t bear to miss the way he pulls pleasure from you with the smallest effort. He learns your body with no agenda—he truly just wants to feel you, but it doesn’t stop you from squirming at the way his fingers brush over your nipples.

It makes him grin, but he doesn’t stop—he just moves on, thumb grazing the skin under your breast, down to the soft of your belly. He lets out a low moan when he feels you there—you don’t think he even knows he did it and it makes you squeeze your thighs together and turn your face into the pillow, fighting like hell to compose yourself.

You feel his calloused palm smooth over the curve of your hip and down to your knee. His fingers curve around the back of it, pulling it up and over his hip. Air brushes over your now exposed sex and your mouth drops open with a whine, far more sensitive than you were anticipating.

“Katsuki, I can’t, I—“

He shushes you with a brush of his lips over yours—sweet and far more innocent than you would prefer.

“Please touch me,” you whimper against his mouth, and you feel the slow grin spread across his face.

“You gonna be quiet?”

You nod like your life depends on it, and he chuckles, a little dark in a way that has your stomach churning.

He pulls back a little to watch your face as he brushes the backs of his knuckles over your slit. It pulls a moan from both of you, and you can’t look away from him as he brings his hand to his face, swiping his tongue over every knuckle. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, like it’s suddenly too much for him. Like he needs to ground himself to keep from taking from you like he wants to.

His hand slips down between you again, cupping you firmly, and your whole body bucks. You lean forward to hide your face in his neck, unable to keep from dragging your aching clit over the heel of his palm.

“There y’go,” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the skin just below it, “does that feel good?”

You bite down on his shoulder to keep from crying out after a particularly intense shock of pleasure shoots up your spine. Your fingers grab at anything you can reach—you wrap them around the side of his neck, both to ground you and for leverage, and he rewards you with the most sinful groan you’ve ever heard, right into your ear.

“I-I need,” you gasp, trying to form a sentence in between the half-frantic snap of your hips, “inside, Kat, please—“

You nearly come out of your skin when he raises his middle finger slightly, the motion of your hips working to push him in, in, in, fitting to you better than you could’ve dreamed of. He’s no better off than you are—mouth open and panting against your neck, and the knowledge that he’s getting off on this has you fucking yourself onto his hand with an almost violent pace.

He presses against you harder, pushing his finger deeper, and you jam your face further into his shoulder, praying like hell it muffles the noise you’re making.

“Need you to cum,” he gasps, nearly pleading, “need t’feel you—“

And you didn’t need the prompting, but the way he pleads sends you over the edge anyway—your entire body seizing as you clamp down hard on his finger. You vaguely register his voice over the ringing in your ears as time slows again—seconds turn to hours that you’re trapped here, every tiny brush of his palm against your clit sending shocks of pleasure that rip through you like waves. It feels like forever before he’s calling you back to him—soft, breathy murmurs of your name against your skin, fingers wrapping around the nape of your neck to hold you to his chest.

It’s quiet between you, then—each of your stuttered breaths and your own pulse in your ears cutting through the silence. He stays inside you because he can, and you have no qualms about it.

“Well. Fuck,” you murmur against his skin, pulling a laugh from him that would have you kicking your feet if you could muster the energy to do it.

He presses kisses to your hairline, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning into them. You feel him slip from inside of you and it feels like a loss—one he quickly remedies by pulling you to his chest with a bruising grip.

“Think you’re gonna kill me,” he whispers, and you snort.

“Yeah, well, it’s mutual.”

____________________________________________________________

It’s a playful cat and mouse chase up the stairs to your apartment. You let him crowd you into the door, fumbling for and nearly dropping your keys.

“You know,” you finally get the wherewithal to shove the key into the lock, “this would go a lot faster if you’d let me open the door.”

“Or I could just fuck you right here, give the neighbors somethin’ to complain about—“

You swing the door open and you both freeze, Denki and Shinsou staring back at you—neither looking particularly shocked.

Shinsou grins, turning to Denki. “You owe me $50, motherfucker.”

Denki groans, reaching for his wallet. “You guys couldn’t have waited like another week?”

“Get the fuck out,” Katsuki grumbles over your head, though it’s softer than you think he wanted it to be. It makes you smile.

You take a step into the apartment, and it feels different. You feel different—it’ll be a marathon, not a sprint, but you have the tools to get to the end of it now. You feel lighter than you have in a long time—more prepared for what’s coming next, even if you don’t know what it is. You look at your boys—Shinsou and Denki bickering over whatever bet they made, and Katsuki, who presses a kiss to your temple before taking your bag back to your bedroom—you’re not alone. You never were with these guys, and you won’t be again as long as you all can help it.

You walk over to Shinsou and Denki, cramming yourself between them on your couch.

“Hi,” a little sheepish, still a little embarrassed, “I missed you guys.”

Denki throws his arms around your neck with a drawn out, theatric wail. He peers around you and levels a glare at Shinsou. “They’re talking to me, you rat bastard.”

Shinsou only laughs, shoving his shoulder into yours.

“We missed you, too,” he says, and it’s genuine—you blink away the tears you feel threatening to spill over.

When you look up, Katsuki is in front of you again. He bends to press a kiss to your hairline, and Shinsou lurches away, gagging.

“Oh!” Denki yells, directly into your ear, “Me too, Kaachan—“

“Not on your fuckin’ life, shit ass—“

You know it’ll be okay. It has to be, with a family like this. There will be talks of new songs, projects, albums, and whatever else you can all think of soon, but for now, you’re content to sit in the love that holds you all together.

this fic belongs to me (@gardenofnoah). i do not allow anyone to repost, edit, or reproduce this work.  

[astrojulia]

How you receive your insights

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Where does your Eureka moment come from? So, Uranus' position in your birth chart can shed light on the areas where you are most likely to receive insights and experience transformative new directions in life. Let's explore each house and the corresponding themes:

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ Uranus 1st house:

You are often receiving new insights into yourself, discovering yourself in front of your fears, desires and the deepest parts of your identity, it is as if nothing of yours can remain obscure from yourself and you end up revealing all your facets sooner or later. Your keen understanding of the self can give you excellent psychoanalytic or people-reading skills.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ Uranus 2nd house:

Your insights revolve around being resourceful, knowing how to deal with material things in an innovative and spontaneous way, as if you don't have a spoon to stir a glass, but you have a fork that can do it and that's okay. You have your ideas when you need to solve material money issues and when you ask yourself what kind of value you want, is it material? Psychological? Academic? Self-management?

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ Uranus 3rd house:

Your receptivity to higher meanings allows you to gain insights from routine experiences. Changes in direction can happen quickly, making it seem like you are undergoing total transformations to those around you. Your drive to apply insights practically and effectively can lead to meaningful learning and personal growth.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ Uranus 4th house:

Your insights, in addition to coming when you're lying in your bed trying to sleep but you can't, or when you're working at home and have a new idea, they come when you ask yourself as a member of your family and sometimes society, which it is your role as a sister, mother, cousin and these questions can be extended to a neighbor, citizen, (insert your nationality here).

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ Uranus 5th house:

You receive your insights when you have a beautiful smile on your face, that is, in moments of relaxation and happiness, when you feel that you have managed to put into matter what was in your mind for so long. You'll likely experience revelations regarding your creative abilities and ways to enhance them further. Delving into your artistic expressions might lead to transformative experiences. Additionally, these insights can extend to your interactions with children, influencing innovative approaches to nurturing and understanding them.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ Uranus 6th house:

Your insights tend to come to you when you are fully engaged in your work or daily routines. You possess a unique ability to see unconventional solutions to practical problems, which makes you a valuable asset in any team or workplace. Your capacity to innovate in your job or health-related matters can lead to sudden breakthroughs, transforming not just your life but also the lives of those around you.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ Uranus 7th house:

Your insights often come through your interactions with others, especially in one-on-one relationships and partnerships. You have an innate curiosity about the people you connect with, leading you to understand their motivations and desires on a deeper level. This ability grants you an edge in negotiating and finding unconventional solutions in partnerships, whether it's in business or personal relationships.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ Uranus 8th house:

Your insights are closely tied to profound emotional experiences and moments of introspection. You are drawn to explore the depths of your psyche and the mysteries of life, often undergoing transformative journeys that uncover hidden truths about yourself and the world around you. These insights may come through encounters with intense situations, shared resources, or during intimate connections with others.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ Uranus 9th house:

Your receptivity to insights flourishes when you step out of your comfort zone and explore new horizons, both mentally and physically. You're likely to receive transformative insights through travel, higher education, or engaging in philosophical discussions. Your open-mindedness and willingness to challenge traditional beliefs enable you to grasp profound truths and understand complex concepts effortlessly.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ Uranus 10th house:

Your insights are often related to your career, public image, and the impact you wish to make on the world. You possess an innovative approach to leadership and are not afraid to challenge the status quo in your professional life. Your ability to see opportunities where others might see obstacles can lead to unexpected career advancements and recognition.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ Uranus 11th house:

Your insights tend to come through your involvement in groups, communities, or social causes. You thrive in collaborative environments where ideas are freely exchanged, and you are eager to bring about positive change. Your progressive thinking and visionary ideas make you a catalyst for transformative initiatives that benefit society as a whole.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ Uranus 12th house:

Your insights often arise during moments of solitude and introspection. You possess a deep connection to the collective unconscious and your higher self, which allows you to tap into universal wisdom and hidden knowledge. You might experience transformative insights through dreams, meditation, or artistic expressions. Embracing your intuitive nature and exploring the spiritual realms can lead to profound personal growth and healing.

(CC) AstroJulia Some Rights Reserved

[wasyago]

picture it, youre in a bathroom stall, not shitting or anything you just wanted to get away from whatever event is happening and are currently scrolling thru ur go to socmed on ur phone, you hear a stall next to you open and close and a loud clanging as an ass lands on the toilet seat, you expect to hear pissing or someshit but instead i start talking as if im in church and this is a confessional

i. love your art, really i do, and uve probably heard this a few times since ur a fairly popular artist, but whatever, i think of your art often, almost everytime i draw even, something about the shapes you use and the way the colors on your art permeate through my skin and warm up my bones, and i especially love your just roll with it art, PARTICULARLY,how you draw gillion, looking at your gillion fills me with rage, with PALPABLE. INDESCRIBABLE. RED HOT JEALOUSLY. ive never even watched riptide, i look at your gillion and want to do something violent and unnecessary to him, i look at your gillion and my skin itches and my scalp tingles and i resist the urge to bite something attached to me, the innate NEED. the fucking LONGING. the pure WANT, in my skin, to split apart and create gills, to go hundreds of thousands of meters deep into the ocean and never come back is almost unbearable, and i see your gillion, and i think of his silly fishy life, how he gets to live slightly most forever, and go on adventures and have a little frogtopus guy and i SEETHE and i drive myself crazyreaching to a reality i'llnever achieve and watching this whimsical fucking fish get to LIVE LIKE THIS !!!!!!! THAT SHOULD BE ME !!!!!!! I DONT GIVE A FUCK THAT HES GONE THROUGH THE HORRORS THAT SHOULD BE ME ❗❗❗❗❗❗ (you hear me banging on the bathroom stall walls) I DESERVE TO BE A FUCKING FISH WITH LITTLE PIRATE FRIENDS !!!!!! I DESERVE TO GLISTEN A LITTLE BECAUSE IM MOIST AT ALL TIMES !!!! I DESERVE FINS. I DESERVE GILLS. I DESERVE A FUCKING BIG ASS FISH TAIL ❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗sssiigghhhhh.................

now you may be wondering, why in the flying fish FUCK am i sending this to you, its simple...how often do you get a crazy insane ask like this.... how often do you get to read a paragraph of pure fish jealousy, i send you this.....to entertain....and to express the most genuine parts of me....

and because i need to be medicated in some way probably

-🐟

[cisthoughtcrime]

Hi there, I'm curious what your thoughts on AGP are and how certain behaviors in females(such as Billie Eilish saying she masturbates in front of a mirror because it is "hot" and females claiming to have gotten aroused from breast feeding) seem to mirror what people use as proof of AGP?

honestly hadn't thought about it before, but you raise an interesting point. you ask for my thoughts, so I'll type as I think:

I think it's fundamentally an iteration of how performing for the male gaze reinforces male perceptions of what's innate to womanhood.

it's telling men that behind closed doors, we actually are having those sexy pillowfights in our slumber party lingerie, we actually are pleasuring ourselves when we insert tampons, we actually are living inside sex dolls rather than bodies they've so hyper-sexualised that there's nothing the female form can do that isn't at least a little horny.

(sidenote): I always think a little of 'post-nut clarity', this idea that once the arousal has been sated men get some sudden lucid neutrality that comes from their mind no longer being clouded by the sex drive, and how often that purportedly goes hand-in-hand with disgust and disregard for women once we've 'served our purpose' -- the women keep on being sexual, but the men are done with them and go back to a non-sexual normal. one part of playing into male fantasies of female sexuality is how we essentially stay in the 'pre-nut' sexual fog, never neutral, existing for sexual pleasure and therefore perpetually sexual. I think this perception feeds rape culture too, this notion that women are walking around as horny-for-men-the-way-men-fantasize and are just a forcible fingering away from dropping their stupid feminist pride and admitting to this reality.

AGPs take to an extreme this misogynistic male perception that there's such an inherent eroticism to the female form that women ourselves can't not be aroused by being in it despite being in it all the time, and they cite examples of women's self-sexualisation for an invisible male audience and performance for the male gaze as proof that this perception is accurate. they won't use any critical thinking about taking with a grain of salt the social circumstantial motives for women saying these things (like the public image Billie Eilish aims to cultivate as a celebrity performance artist trying to stay relevant, to gain and retain the male approval and spotlight necessary for her career, and the influence her teen fame and the ensuing intense sexualisation have inevitably had on her) -- they'll believe what suits their view and disbelieve what contradicts it, similarly to how men will buy that a woman in porn is acting when she's visibly uncomfortable but not acting when she's filmed saying she consented.

TLDR; again, I think it's fundamentally an iteration of how performing for the male gaze reinforces male perceptions of what's innate to womanhood.

[quirkwizard]

In your “swap au” that you’ve discussed a few times, with anarchist all might vigilante resistance fighting the safety commission lead all for one, how do you think the various heroes schools would function given the more unstable rebellion driven society and which characters do you think would remain/go there without all might being a symbol to inspire it?

When I imagined this scenario, it was really an all or nothing situation. Either everyone would be swapped or just All Might and All For One. However, I think that this could still be fun to talk about. And I'll only be focusing on the students since there's a lot to cover with this. For this, I'll only talk about characters that I think that are interesting rather then give my reasoning for all of them. And for a special bonus, since I already talked about Izuku, I'll throw in Shinso. As for who would stay and go:

Pro Heroes Faction: Momo, Tenya, Kirishima, Aoyama, Sero, Mina, Tsuyu, Shinso, Koda, Tokoyami

All Might's Faction: Uraraka, Denki, Shoji, Shoto, Ojiro, Jiro, Bakugou, Mineta, Sato, Hagakure

Aoyama: A charity case for All For One. He wanted to help out Aoyama, giving him a Quirk as to not be excluded like he once was. Aoyama became a hero to repay that debt.

Shoji: One of those people who joined All Might seeing the good he could do by breaking down the system as it stands, especially for his fellow mutants.

Mina: I know it seems odd she'd still be a hero, I think her innate heroic spirit would pull her more towards traditional hero work as opposed to the more violent work of All Might.

Uraraka: In this world, All Might would represent a lot of the same beliefs as the MLA. So now, Uraraka wants to see a world where she can use her powers in order to help her parents with their construction business.

Kirishima: I was really tempted to have him go with All Might, with Kirishima seeing him as a powerful figure to emulate. However, I do think that his better angels would win out, especially with someone like Mina to help inspire him.

Shoto: I hinted at this idea before with Dabi, but I'll just say that after Endeavor went off the deep end, Shoto had every reason to turn on the world of heroes and join All Might. Once again, a Todoroki turned to villainy out of parental spite.

Momo and Tenya: Obliviously, as two of the biggest boy scouts in the class, they pretty much guaranteed to stay with the more lawful side of things. This is especially the case since All Might's actions likely lead to huge issues for their families.

Jiro and Ojio: Whether it be through music or marital arts, for artistic fulliflemnet or personal drive, these two follow All Might due to wanting to improve themselves through their Quirks, something they could not do with how the system was set up.

Shinso and Tokoyami: Two guys with "evil" powers that could reasonably find acceptance within the ranks of All Might, but I ultimately beleive that their more heroic natures would win out in the end and would want to proves others wrong.

Denki and Bakugou: Only really with All Might because he thought it was cool and was swept up with what everyone else was doing. While Denki is basically the Spinner of this universe, Bakugou is here to be the best he can possible be with nothing in his way.

[mousemilf]

i feel like seeing the world through actions rather than character seems like you're subconsciously distant and dissociated from yourself; as though some deep-seated insecurity or anxiety about an inherent personality trait means that you place value specifically on behavior and not personality.

for example, is a person artistic simply because they make art, or are they compelled to make art because they have this specific inexplicable draw and desire to do so? would someone who was not innately kind or interested in being kind "do" kind things?

which innate trait were you born with that drives you to assume that different opinions must stem from a psychological issue?

anyway, no, i am not innately artistic. nobody (or everybody, which is essentially the same thing) is. i bothers me that we treat art as so much more sacred than other human activities. would you say the same about someone whos hobby is collecting funko pops? are they driven by an inexplicable desire to collect shit figurines?

making art is something i know how to do. its a skill ive acquired, like cooking or driving a car. to attribute it to an innate talent would be to erase the years of study and practice ive put in. if its more initially rewarding because i have any natural advantage, it might be that i have pretty good fine motor skills, but thats a neutral physical trait like my height or weight, which i dont glean any meaningful identity from either. but maybe that initial aptitude led to more satisfaction, encouragement etc which has naturally caused me to think about art more than someone who did not start with that immediate small advantage.

ive had the privilege of teaching hobby painting classes to people who are not skilled and would not consider themselves "artistic," and everybodys reactions when they learn a new technique and make something they thought they couldnt is proof to me that art making is rewarding to *everybody,* not just a special class of divinely ordained creatives. i fundamentally do not believe that i am unique for finding art fulfilling. it feels good to make stuff. thats just human.

as far as kindness goes, if there are intrinsically kind people, it would follow that there are intrinsically unkind people, right? people who are born without kindness as an innate trait... so then what would be the point of trying to rehabilitate people whove committed violent crimes? if they dont have that inherent drive for kindness that innately kind people do, then it would be hopeless, right?

if we can neatly divide people into categorically kind and categorically unkind people i guess it would be much easier for us kind people (im at least flattered that you assume id be on that side of the dichotomy) to like, just be confident that we are morally in the right and not ever have to question the actual impact of our behavior since our intentions are good by virtue of this innate trait we were born with. sure whatever.

assigning importance to intentions and feelings rather than actions and their impact is like very yuckydisgusting to me. like i said in my reblog right before this, if kind thoughts were enough to make someone a kind person, then negative thoughts would be enough to make someone a bad person. silly and obviously wrong. i've fantasized about all kinds of destructive actions, but it literally does not matter at all, the only important thing is my choice not to act on those fantasies.

wanting or trying to be a kind person does not make someone a kind person. some of the nastiest motherfuckers ive ever met were constantly agonizing over whether they were a good person and looking for reassurance that they hadnt done wrong. yet they continued to act selfishly and harm people around them. their desire to be kind did jack shit.

but yeah, i do place value specifically on behavior because thats the only part of personality that meaningfully exists to literally anybody outside of your brain. basically. i think thats the main point of all of this.

[pillow-anime-talk]

gender swap.

request: how do you think a female wammy’s boys, lawliet and light would be?

# tags: headcanons; gender swap; slice of life; mostly fluff; maybe angst or drama; also comedy (a bit); sfw

includes: light yagami, l lawliet, beyond birthday, nate river, mail jeevas & mihael keehl {death note}

— LIGHT

↘ Oh, she is definitely one of the most beautiful women in the university and gets a scholarship every year for her academic achievements. She is not competitive and doesn’t try to be; she simply has an innate talent for quickly remembering informations and numbers and uses it to get the best grades, and thus awards or recognition among professors.

↘ She is not very interested in relationships; many boys chase after her, but she doesn’t care at all. Brown-haired girl much more prefers to focus on her career and private goals (both in the Kira case and her job in the investigative department).

↘ Nevertheless, if the situation requires it, she will use her charm and grace to achieve what she needs. This woman will stop at nothing when her own life is at stake.

— LAWLIET

↘ I imagine she’s wearing these cool, fluffy hoodies and huge pants tightly tightened around the waist. She is the definition of a woman who likes to play video games, drink energy drinks, watch anime and sit in her own room (alone).

↘ Just like the original L, she also likes sweets and juicy fruits. I imagine her favorites are mango or peaches. In my head I think that she is a vegetarian and cooks well to maintain a healthy, balanced diet based on the right products.

↘ She is an introvert and it’s hard to make friends with her, even though I personally find her a very attractive woman. However, she seems to be unapproachable and therefore has no success in friendship or love.

— BEYOND

↘ She is a loner who devotes herself to her own projects. She has at most one friend, but she lives alone in a small studio apartment with her beloved cat (she is definitely a cat-person).

↘ She studies criminology or forensic psychology and likes to listen to podcasts. She has very good grades, but very rarely appears in class (he comes to universities only when there are exams). The professors have no problem with her, but they know that she is a rather mysterious girl who struggles with personal problems. Nevertheless, she does very well, although she is an outcast.

↘ That girl enjoys night time and loves spending time with her cat while watching crime shows on Netflix. She definitely has trouble sleeping.

— NATE

↘ Another nerd. The best student in the year, the best student in the field and the best student in the entire university. In addition, she is artistically and musically talented (playing the violin and piano, #canon). Although she doesn’t have many friends, she is quite popular and her white hair catches the eye of most students. She is very liked by the professors, even if she looks at the window during classes and does not write anything in her notebook.

↘ I think she is fluent in French, German, English, Japanese and Swedish. She likes to learn new things – she remembers everything so easily. And also has a natural talent for this type of thing.

↘ She doesn’t have a driving license and is afraid to drive. She’s definitely using other people for a free ride.

— MAIL

↘ Not studying. I think she found work as a graphic designer, game tester or digital game designer. It’s something she likes and she’s really good at it. In the future, she would like to set up her own studio where she would create games.

↘ I have a vision in my head that she is sharing a room in an apartment with several people and she is that girl who likes to party and come home late. Plus, she smokes cigarettes and likes to sleep in late – a real example of a bad girl you don’t have to worry about if your boyfriend hangs out with her after school on a project.

↘ Nevertheless, she is a girl who sleeps with her favorite stuffed animal at night and I have no excuse for that, I just feel in my heart that she has a little brown teddy bear without one eye that she got from her favorite grandma and always sits on her bed waiting for her to come home.

— MIHAEL 

↘ She has many friends, but only one true bestie, with whom she is perfectly matched in characters. She swears, she smokes, she’s always late, she’s sophisticated, she’ll take your boyfriend away if you get in her way... She does not like nosy people and gossip about herself, which is why she always deals with such matters personally, preferably behind the walls of the building or between the garages.

↘ She is brutal and emotionless. She has definitely not yet met a person who could heal this little, wishing for happiness heart. Currently, she lives alone and spent nights in the arms of random men. She doesn’t mind.

↘ Somewhere in the back of my mind I have a vision that she has been to the police station more than once for theft or battery. But she has a rich dad, so she gets away with everything. 

[rosiebunartz]

Min-Ji The k-pop Star

LET'S GOOOOOO I FINALLY HAVE THE DESIGN OF MY MOUNT RANGEOUS OC HERE 😭💗💗 AAAAAA I am so happy to have my baby's design here with us, the truth is that it took me a long time and I took some time to think more than anything about its design, clothes, colors, etc.

but taking the time was worth it, I feel so proud of how Min's Reference turned out 🥹

I'll tell you a little about Her:

Min-Ji, a famous teenage singer star in the K-pop world, was born and raised in the vibrant city of Mount Rageous. From an early age, her exceptional voice and captivating charisma distinguished her among others. With each performance of hers, has managed to capture the attention of the general public, leaving everyone in awe of her innate talent and dazzling stage presence.

(His sexuality is pansexual. )

What sets Min-Ji apart from other artists is her ability to combine her incredible voice with amazing choreography. Her fluid movements and natural grace have left audiences breathless, making her a K-pop sensation. However, his growing fame has aroused some envy in Velvet, another young woman for whom he is somewhat jealous because Min-ji has a natural singing in her, in addition to the fact that Min was the replacement for the Twins when they committed a fraud just to May Velvet be Famous.

Min personality radiates joy, kindness, optimism, and contagious energy. She is a person who always sees the positive side of things and seeks to illuminate the lives of others with her music. Her kind heart drives her to be compassionate and supportive of those around her. Despite her meteoric rise as an artist, Min-Ji maintains an admirable humility. She is always willing to interact with her fans, and make them feel special. She understands that her success is due to her love for music and the unconditional support of her fans.

Behind her onstage charm and charisma, Min-Ji is a tireless worker. She dedicates countless hours to the creation and performance of her music, always striving to surpass her own limits. Her work ethic is exemplary and her unwavering commitment to the well-being of her followers is evident in her every action.

Despite the jealousy and envy Velvet may feel, She doesn't let it affect her positive attitude and her focus on her career. Instead, she strives to be a role model for other young artists, proving that success is achieved through passion, hard work, and integrity.

(and yes, venner is his crush ♡ jzbdjs)

Min's two drawings were made by a friend: @/Sofi Bleed She was the one who made these wonderful works of art 😭💗💗💗

I would greatly appreciate your support

and love. 🫰🩷💚

[antisocialxconstruct]

vent that I don't feel like trying to fit into the tags gfdsgsdg

and NOT aimed at anyone in particular but rrrgfhgfhfdh I'm getting so so frustrated with the narrative of like "if you're a True Artist you feel this deep gnawing urge to Create™ and the only thing that's worse than making art is NOT making art"

like....... there's a version of that I guess is true?? obviously no one becomes an artist unless they have some innate desire to make something, but I don't know, it's just... I've had art block, or more like. art ambivalence? for over two years now and the messaging that REAL artists are constantly driven to create like it's some instinctive impulse.... stings. I have ideas, I have things I would like to see in the world somehow, but right now I just cannot find the motivation to actually put the work in. It's less "I have a driving desire to make art but not the time or energy," and more "I think hard about the things I'd like to do and it just doesn't sound worth the effort." And every time I see one of those takes it just sparks this little feeling in the back of my mind that I guess I'm just not enough of a true artist and I might as well just not bother anymore.

[hiphopncountrychick]

J. Cole: A Hip-Hop Icon Who Raps Without Guns, Gangs or Negativity

In the world of hip-hop, where the spotlight often shines on extravagant tales of violence, gangs, and materialism, one artist has consistently stood out for his commitment to authenticity and positivity. J. Cole, born Jermaine Lamarr Cole, is an iconic figure in the rap industry who has managed to make a profound impact without resorting to the glorification of guns, gangs, or negativity in his music. With thought-provoking lyrics and a dedication to being true to himself, J. Cole has carved out a unique path in the rap world.

On this special day, January 28th, we celebrate the birth of one of hip-hop's most influential figures - J Cole. Known for his insightful lyrics, powerful storytelling, and raw authenticity, J Cole has carved a niche for himself in the music industry. Let's dive into the remarkable journey of the artist who started rapping at the age of 12 and has since become a triple platinum-selling artist with his groundbreaking album, "2014 Forest Hill Drive."

Early Years and Passion for Hip-Hop:

Born Jermaine Lamarr Cole on January 28, 1985, in Frankfurt, Germany, J Cole developed a passion for hip-hop at a young age. Growing up in Fayetteville, North Carolina, he began rapping at the tender age of 12, showcasing his innate talent and determination to make a mark in the world of music.

The Struggles and Triumphs:

J Cole's journey to success was not without its challenges. After graduating magna cum laude from St. John's University, he faced the harsh realities of the music industry. Working odd jobs to support himself, Cole's perseverance eventually caught the attention of Roc Nation, where he would later cross paths with hip-hop mogul Jay-Z.

Meeting Jay-Z and Signing to Roc Nation:

In 2007, J. Cole was on a rap website and he read an article on how Jay Z was making his tenth studio album, American Gangster. J. Cole had high hopes of meeting Jay-Z and being signed under him.

After reading the article, J. Cole conceived of a plan on how he could make beats for Jay-Z’s American Gangster. He saw this as an opportunity, a calling from divine intervention to pursue this path to get himself in the limelight of music. He said it was as if “God is telling me to get on this album. So I was praying for it.” This was going to be how he was going to get on as a rapper.

With his plan in mind, Cole went to work and carefully selected all his best beats for Jay-Z. Cole and his friend got all the beats on a CD and waited outside the Roc the Mic studio in the rain waiting for Jay-Z to arrive. They had a hunch that Jay-Z would be there to finish working on the American Gangster album.

Two hours passed before Jay-Z showed up in a black Rolls Royce Phantom. The opportunity came, standing in front of J. Cole was the person who he had visualized, dreamt of meeting, and moved to New York for. This was the person who could hand him his ticket from his overdue rent and into stardom. As he walked up to Jay-Z, words refused to form but J. Cole mustered up the courage to approach Jay-Z and hand him the CD.

Jay-Z saw Cole and said “Man, I don’t want that.” Cole in an interview with ABC said that “I thought he was evil at that point — cause it caught me off guard, I had such high hopes, that just one little phrase like that from him.”

A year later, it was Jay-Z asking to meet J. Cole. The same person he previously dismissed. Veteran A&R Mark Pitts played for Jay-Z one song which lead to a three-hour meeting which lead to multiple meetings until eventually, J. Cole was officially the first artist signed to Roc Nation.

Things will materialize sooner or later as long as you stay persistent.

"2014 Forest Hill Drive": A Masterpiece Unveiled:

In 2014, J Cole released his magnum opus, "2014 Forest Hill Drive." This album, named after the address of his childhood home, is a deeply introspective work that earned critical acclaim and achieved triple platinum status. The tracks not only showcase Cole's lyrical prowess but also offer a raw and unfiltered glimpse into his life, covering themes of love, fame, and societal challenges.

A journey of trials and tribulations combined with lessons learned is what Jermaine Cole experiences. A vivid picture of each phase of his journey gets depicted beautifully to me.

In life, I believe that we all get distracted from different environments and prioritize materialistic things such as social media and use it as our main source of love, mistakenly.

In this album, Cole vividly portrays that this should not be the case and instead, we should prioritize non materialistic things such as friends, family, and home to bring happiness.

"Love Yourz" and "No Role Modelz" are emblematic of the album's brilliance, marrying profound messages with infectious beats. "2014 Forest Hill Drive" not only propelled J Cole into the mainstream but also solidified his position as a storyteller capable of weaving intricate narratives through his music.

Conclusion:

As we celebrate J Cole's birthday, it's not merely an acknowledgment of the passing years but a celebration of an artist who transformed dreams into reality. From the streets of Fayetteville to international acclaim, J Cole's journey is a testament to talent, resilience, and authenticity. So, to those unacquainted with his work, take a deep dive into the world of J Cole – an artist who not only raps but leaves an indelible mark on the soul of a generation.

As we conclude this deep dive into the life and artistry of J Cole, I invite you to join the conversation. What resonated with you the most about J Cole's journey? Share your thoughts, drop a like, and let me know your favorite J Cole song. Engage with me in the comments, unraveling the lyrical tapestry that defines his impact on the hip-hop landscape.

I want to hear from you—what aspect of J Cole's life or discography would you like us to explore next? Your feedback fuels my passion for storytelling. Don't forget to share this article with fellow music enthusiasts. Let's create a community that celebrates the artistry of J Cole and anticipates what's next. Thank you for being part of this journey. Stay tuned for more tales from the world of music!

Honorable mentions:

@todayinhiphophistory

@hiphop

@music

@jcoleofficial