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#and i just thought something was inherently wrong with me

buckttommy · 26 days

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umm. pause. guys. guys. gay tommy has been canon this entire time. what the fuck. like. oh my god. no. like. okay. okay. so. 2x9 (hen begins), sal [deluca] is talking about his girlfriend dragging him to see twilight. he makes a homophobic joke about tommy being team jacob and tommy's like "i don't even know what that means." chimney says "he's insinuating that you're gay" and tommy blows deluca a kiss. fine. whatever. but THEN you skip to 2x12 (chimney begins), and—i stg it's a blink and you miss it moment—tommy and gerrard (racist captain) are having this conversation in the background

tommy: what about that burger place? gerrard: tommy i hate that place. hey wasn't your girlfriend supposed to come and cook us dinner? tommy: uhh. next tuesday. gerrard: promise? tommy: uhh. uh. yes. yeah. i will promise.

and it's like. number one, this sounds like a conversation they've had before. something to the tune of "hey, how come you never bring your girlfriend around" which i can't help but think was intentional considering the members of the old 118 were entirely familiar with deluca's girlfriend gina. but number two, no straight man who has a girlfriend sounds that unsure that they have a fucking girlfriend. it was very much giving "ah yes. this human lady that i love that most definitely exists. absolutely. also i like breasts." and it's just like. ok. what the fuck. like. i don't know if this was the plan all along. i don't think it was. i still maintain buck/eddie were supposed to go canon after the shooting and the powers that be got in the way. but. but. the idea that this canon queer character has been hiding in plain sight (subtext) is just. wild to me. like. i've always headcanoned tommy as gay, mostly because every character he plays seems fruity as hell. but bro. i don't think it's a headcanon anymore. and i don't think it ever has been. what the fuck.

there's also the idea that. like. so i've been watching the begins episodes again trying to figure out what, exactly, tommy's crime against the members of the 118 has been. like. he worked in a -phobic/-cist environment. he was definitely complicit in making hen/chimney feel like outsiders in their workplace yes yes all these things are true. but as far as i can tell, tommy has rarely ever actively been anything except spineless. deluca makes a homophobic joke? tommy laughs. gerrard makes a bunch of sexist and racist comments? tommy looks, but doesn't say anything to encourage (or discourage him). hen gives her monologue? he looks chagrined.

and his complicity would be absolutely shitty and inexcusable if he was just a cishet white man. no questions asked. but if — if — you view his behavior through the lens of the fact that tommy is queer himself? that tommy is, and always has been, a member of a marginalized community who felt it was easier and safer to assimilate than it was to be openly queer and have a target on his back? his behavior becomes a whole hell of a lot more understandable. yes, it's still shitty, but. there's a purpose behind it. and this idea is supported by the fact that, when gerrard leaves (flashing forward to bobby begins again), even before bobby gets there (because we always credit bobby with making the 118 the family it is today), like. the atmosphere is completely different. tommy and hen? are friendly with each other. chimney and tommy? also friendly with each other. which we also know because in 2x14 broken, he calls him up for help. which lends credibility to the idea that the problems tommy had (or thought he had) with henchim were not about them as people but more about whatever manufactured conservative boys club bullshit gerrard fostered.

and it's just like. motherfucker. bitch. what the hell. like. first of all, leave it to 9-1-1 to tell a story like this in the most subtle way possible. like if that was indeed the intended implication, i'm throwing my tv off a bridge immediately. but also. second of all. what is wrong with this show. they're crazy. i want to eat it like a loaf of bread. just shovel it in my mouth because the idea that tommy has been queer all along, that he wasn't brought back just to be a stopgap on buck's queer journey to eddie, but that he's been haunting the edges of the narrative like a gay ghost is sooo like. ohhh. okay. [throws up]. like????? okay. anyway. i'm going to be thinking about this the rest of the day.

#tommy kinard #head in hands.....................HEAD IN HANDS #tv: 911 #jack.txt #There's also something to be said about the idea of FOX main characterizing Buck/Oliver #around the same time they put a stop to Buddie #Something about like. Conventionally attractive (dark hair / light eyes) white men are not allowed to be loudly quee #and like. I KNEW there was something there #I knew it. And I love Michael and David and Karen and Hen don't get me wrong #those are my emotional support gays #but I was just like ''hm. kind of funny how every queer character connected to the mains is a person of color right?''#and I never vocalized this thought to ANYONE but I always kept it in the back of my mind #even the men michael would be seen with *before* David — always black #and there's nothing wrong with it it's fine #but the idea becomes a LOT more insidious when I consider FOX's politics—when i consider that both racism and homophobia are inherent to #their brand. and then it's just like ''ohh. you guys made the black people dirty queers because white is right. okay got it''#anyways. let me stop talking. lol

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findafight · 11 months

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People making Robin mean to Steve is one of the biggest reasons I loved your one sided Ron*nce post. Because I genuinely cannot see Robin just overlooking how much Nancy hurt Steve just because Robin has a crush on her. Like even in small ways, I think Nancy did a number on Steve. I look at their relationship and see Steve being told he’s over dramatic, stupid, and that his hobbies and anything that makes him Steve is automatically less than Nancy’s hobbies and desires. Idk I just can’t see Robin hearing about that or about anyone treating Steve badly and not taking Steve’s side. Stobin should have the same brain always

Ahhh yes thank you!! Yeah it simply doesn't make sense to me with the history there. Because like. Even if we do not think Nancy cheated on Steve (which I believe she did, regardless of what TPTB say) she still broke his heart. Regardless of whether or not Steve thinks it's justifiable that she did, Robin wouldn't let that go. She holds a grudge like a motherfucker. The girl she liked had a crush on Steve and he also ate bagels messily in class and didn't know her name and she held onto that for at least two if not three years. No way that after she has finally found her forever person she'll let him being hurt go!! If she can hold onto a petty grudge she can hold onto a heartbreak grudge for her best friend. She does not like people who are mean to Steve and would not be one of them in the way she is sometimes made to be in fics(outside of legitimate misunderstandings, disagreements, normal friendship conflicts) (sorry I've rewritten this like 3 times trying to figure out how to say this without dissecting the st/ncy dynamic in s2. [which i ended up doing and then copy pasting that into a blank doc because oh. i have points. but off topic for this. But it's still a bit ranty] this gets a bit long, but I did delete a weird siderant in it so it's more on topic? I do have a stobin and r//ance point I SWEAR and I hope this is cohesive)

Like, I think Steve 100% blames himself for the breakup. We see this in s4. but also the show tries to make us believe that that's the truth and not Steve seeing Nancy through rose-coloured glasses which is wild. Unreliable Narrator Steve about his own love life is just. it makes sense with everything that we see happen between him and Nancy and how she very much has fault in the ending of their relationship, and should have taken more responsibility and at least broken up with Steve after she slept with Jonathan, but allowed Steve to shoulder the blame for being a "shitty boyfriend" when he really wasn't.

The way the breakup is framed as Steve's fault from the beginning of S2 is kinda wild to me because...Steve was right?? I ALSO wouldn't want to be discussing telling people the top secret government conspiracy that people had been murdered to keep it quiet over in the school library. That's not shitty boyfriend behaviour that's smart person scared of the government that can and will kill you if you blab behaviour. And Nancy even admitted she waited for Jonathan to make a move before going back to Steve, and then she cheated on him with jon! These are not things that Steve knows about or is responsible for! Why does the show make it seem like Steve is entirely at fault here!

Anyways I think Steve must not have told Robin everything and just used his "I was a shitty boyfriend" line on why they broke up for robin and while yeah, she's not good at reading people, she does know when to not push her sad looking friend into talking about a rough breakup. Which is why Robin is on the St/cy train in s4. If she had known everything, (once again not even touching the cheating) I cannot see her pushing Steve towards Nancy. She loves Steve and wants him happy, and thinks maybe if Nancy keeps giving him eyes, knowing Steve has changed in the past year and a half, Robin thinks maybe something can come of it! that's sweet! She's trying to get her friend back together with an ex he cares about, that obviously seems into him too, and doesn't know the extent of their breakup. Unfortunately canon did not make it clear Steve or Robin or Dustin or Eddie know Nancy and Jonathan are still dating? Which makes it very weird, and not make sense, so I am choosing to believe through a game of telephone with the kids Robin and Steve think Nancy and Jonathan broke up and that's why she didn't go to cali.

But Robin doesn't have all the facts so when he does tell her all about the end of his and Nancy's relationship, yes, and Robin is squinting at him because he is acting like it is his fault his heart got broken, but from all the facts given, it doesn't actually seem that way. She's not the best at reading people but she knows Steve, and it just...doesn't add up for her. Because all the things he said he did make sense to Robin, not wanting the government to kill you is actually very reasonable etc... And Steve is still so sad about it and clearly it still affected him getting his heartbroken like that. So Robin, who can hold a bagel crumb grudge like literally no one else, will obviously hold some resentment towards Nancy for hurting Steve like that even if Steve doesn't blame her, because Robin knows what it's like to just...not understand what you did wrong and still blame yourself for it. She's neurodiverse! If we use Rebel Robin, she lost Barb as a friend for seemingly no reason to her other than Barb finding a better friend(I think?) and it wasn't so dramatic as a breakup, but still. I think seeing that Steve had legitimately tried with the tools he was given to support Nancy and be a good boyfriend but blamed himself, and Nancy letting him do that, would strike a chord with Robin. She would Not let it go.

Robin might want to be Nancy's friend, especially if Steve is encouraging it, and insisting that it's fine and they did save the world together, but you're right! she could never overlook the fact that, not only is Nancy Steve's ex which makes things awkward anyway, but she also broke his heart and let him take the blame for it even if he doesn't realize it. (not to mention!! the cheating!!! I am still looking for post s2 st/ncy fic that let's them actually talk about it but it seems like that's just not addressed by the shippers? which is unfortunate because I'd read it, but I don't ship it enough to care to write it myself. Ya feel?) She could probably move past it for friendship if Steve was okay, but I also just...don't think they'd be super close friends.

Tbh I don't see Nancy really wanting to stick around with the Hawkins crew more than exchanging holiday cards and maybe a wedding or big event or something. It'd be nice for her to have people she knows she can rely on, but her goals are so much bigger than that and she'd want to get away and move on, especially if it was for sure over and done. She wants a lot more than Hawkins, and canonically only stays in contact with people involved with the Upside Down if they're dating her or related to her. I know we love to make everyone happy friends big found family but in canon...I don't think Nancy is really looking back at her hometown once she leaves for uni.

I don't think I can even picture Robin having a crush on her in anything other than "pretty badass girl appreciation" way because knowing thabout the st/ncy breakup would probably kill any butterflies before they hatch for Robin.

She couldn't do that to Steve. She couldn't do that to herself! I've seen people complain that a lot of the... not criticism but reasoning for not liking r0nance makes it about Steve so here's this. Robin wouldn't like Nancy not only because of all the Steve stuff, but because they simply do not vibe romantically.

Robin needs someone who will be able to smile and shrug off some of her rants or rambles or even find them endearing. Nancy needs to be alone for a while but in a partner someone is able to push back against her to challenge her and encourage her to her ambitions (this is something with Nancy robin I think would struggle with, with how Nancy was dismissive of Robin and her ideas, which might lead to insecurity for Robin) Robin is involved with people from the Upside Down, she's best friends with Steve, she obviously is familiar with Dustin and Erica and possibly Max. Nancy wanting distance from that aspect of her life wouldn't gel with the company Robin keeps.

I also think not wanting to risk hurting your friend or ruining your relationship with your best friend over a crush is completly legitimate reason for not pursuing a relationship (romo or not) of any kind. Like. jeez. God forbid you care what about your friends feel. It's frustrating when people treat that like it's a stupid reason when it's not!!

Robin wouldn't date Nancy because it may not ruin her relationship with Steve from Steve's side, but from hers. It'd make her question herself and what kind of friend she is. Would she want Steve to date an ex of hers that broke her heart? Even if she blamed herself for it? She wouldn't. Does she think Steve would ever do that? absolutely not, because Steve doesn't want to even risk hurting her. She values her friendship with Steve way more than a crush or a potential girlfriend. She's confident in their relationship far more than a fledgling romantic relationship. She doesn't want to even risk the chance of losing Steve, regardless if he says he's okay with her dating Nancy. Robin doesn't want to be the person who puts romance before her best friend, because she adores Steve, he's her person, they want to combine, and she knows Steve would never do that to her. It's Robin's choice! And I believe she would choose Steve.

Also, this one point is about shippers, it's sorta...super frustrating when so much of the reasoning of people wanting it to be canon prioritizes Nancy. Even when they try to make it about Robin it's about Nancy because it seems like they just. ignore that Robin's best friend is Steve, and that Nancy was annoyed by Robin rambling and being a bit Weird. different interpretations I guess but Nancy was jealous of Robin because of her closeness to Steve and also found her annoying! they got closer in the end and Nancy definitely respected her for the rant in the office, but she would still find those traits annoying. A lot of these points come from viewing r//ance as a potential canon ship when...it's not. (I think it is legitimately so hindering that a lot of shipping is about it being canon or whatever when no? it's just fun to explore a dynamic between characters! which is also why I don't get romo r//nce bc I think they'd have a really weird and kinda awkward relationship. which is fun and neat to explore even if it's messy!)

but still, it wouldn't happen in canon and that's fine!! it's okay to like fanon content! not everything has to be canon. and it's frustrating when people insist on there being a strong possibility of canon r//ance when there isn't. That's not a bad thing! It's just a thing! I'm sorry but based on what is going on with Robin and Vickie very likely being either in a relationship or on the cusp of one in s5, and everything going on between Nancy, jon, and Steve, there's no room for it. It wouldn't make sense to shoehorn it in when Vickie is literally Right There and smiling and enjoying being around Robin more than we saw Nancy being.

People doing this also insist it'd be good for Robin when really they just don't want Nancy to be with Steve or Jonathan and it's like yeah neither do I. I think Nancy should be single. Don't put that shit on Robin. Having them get together at the end is just not allowing Nancy time to be single and find herself and explore the big wide world, and not be tied to Hawkins. Nancy deserves a big post grad adventure without worrying about the upside down.

Let Robin have a cute redhead girlfriend who understands that sometimes she cannot stop her mouth but thinks she's funny and knows that she's gonna sometimes be Very Weird with Steve. Just because a character was created to be a love interest doesn't mean they cannot be interesting. Look at our boy Steve! He was initially supposed to be Nancy's jerk boyfriend who dies and look at him now. :')

Also. It'd be sooooo weird for Nancy there. Steve's her ex! Her gf being best friends with her ex would be weird for her!

and the argument that Vickie is boring is...like ok. more than one person is allowed to ramble when a bit fluster but okay. then so is Barb. She was also barely there. so is tommy. like. people are allowed to not like characters or like ships or whatever. But c'mon. Cut the girl some slack!

Vickie is an eveasdropper who wants to barg into stobin's weird thing. I believe she returned fast times stopped at fifty three minutes and whatever seconds on purpose to suss out if Robin got it. She got so distracted by complaining about her ex she over peanut butter two slices of bread. She thinks Steve is funny. She's a bit of a freak and I think if we continue to see more of her she'll fit nicely with stobin!

Literally I only think R0nance would potentially date in an au where steve and nancy never dated and robin and nancy did instead in a first teenage loves kind of way, but ended up being too different and prioritizing contrasting or conflicting things and realizing that they don't work as a couple. Like. Even there it doesn't really make sense to me? I mean I'm writing the post o66 au with that, the first teenage love r//ance because I do think that, given the right circumstances they would potentially fall in love. But I don't think it would last long term. They're too different about too many things to be compatible I guess.

Anyways yeah I can't vibe with Romo ships that have to disregard or ignore key factors of characters or their deep and loving platonic friendships with others. Sorry I wrote so much about this it probably makes no sense. Peace and love and remember stobin are platonic soulmates who are each other's number ones :)

#steve harrington #robin buckley #vickie stranger things #anti ronance #anti stancy #i guess? listen i didnt mean for this to be this way i just have lots of overlalping thoughts #and its late and im tired and i hate when people treat robin caring about steves feeling and wanting to avoid hurting him #as something inherently... idk. wrong? inserting a man in wlw relationships when. its just being kind to your friend.#plus robin made her relationships about steve long before fhey were friends so not out of character this time its because she loves him tho #findaanswers #anonasaurus #its not even thst i hate the ships i can and do enjoy a stancy fic once in a while its just. i love stobin most #and when romo ships are prioritized over their friendship i get annoyed. and rnce is a frequent perpetrator of this #finda's rambles #i also prefer canon divergent fics so in those for me rnce doesnt work off the bat. other idk i simply dont vibe with it #nancy wheeler #stobin #stranger things #stranger things meta

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thebaffledcaptain · 10 months

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Been thinking about historical beauty standards lately and the fact that being rounder and heavier was, in fact, considered fashionable for a very long time, and then the fact that people will always interject with the “it’s because weight meant you were wealthy and able to afford food and leisure,” which, sure, is true to some extent, but it’s not like… the only reason that was desirable? Like, is it that hard to believe that people genuinely found that beautiful? That both men and women would rogue their cheeks to make them look more lively and full? That men would tailor their waistcoats to give the illusion of a potbelly because it was the fashionable silhouette? That to be soft and plump was considered lovely and attractive? Honestly, I feel people’s insistence on the whole “weight meant you were wealthy” thing can quickly become a kind of backhanded fatphobia, this assertion that being fat meant something else desirable, and thus became the Desirable Thing. People have had fat and been fat all throughout history and been found beautiful for it, period.

#i've been doing a lot of thinking today lol #idk it's just very. frustrating to me that everyone is so set on believing that and that alone #because it feels so non-genuine despite the fact that there are so many genuine portrayals of plumpness and fatness being desirable #for so long #this insistence that our bodies have to fit the fashion of the times is a relatively new invention #shapewear existed for a reason and honestly i find it to be almost like. the opposite of the reason modern people tend to say it did #it was a way of staying in fashion that didn't involve literally attempting to alter your body to achieve the unachievable #there's nothing inherently wrong with having fashions and trends until they start becoming actively harmful to people #idk i might not be the most qualified person to talk about this if someone else has thoughts i'd be happy to hear #but it's something i only realized today #history #fatphobia #body positivity #historical fashion #historyposting #this is your captain speaking

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gardenofnoah · 1 year

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part one: you’ve been running behind, i’m afraid you’re too late

wc: 5.7K chapter tags: MDNI, dark content (domestic abuse/physical abuse within a romantic relationship (not between reader and shinsou), general violence, nonconsensual quirk use??, graphic descriptions of injuries), ptsd, healing and forgiveness, undefined relationship between reader and shinsou, gn reader (no pronouns), pet names (“angel”, “baby”), probably inaccurate description of shinsou’s quirk idk

Kyoji was good to you. He was older, he was handsome–he exuded a confidence that you’d not yet been privy to. He spoiled you, really–with gifts and dinners and glimpses into a lifestyle that your young naivety latched onto–you liked him for that. You were taken by his charm, and how he always knew exactly what to say.

The very things you adored seemed to turn to sharpened weapons that nicked at your skin. But he was careful not to draw blood until he knew he had you.

You’d met at UA, you in your second year and he in his last. You were inseparable from the start–you hung off his arm like a little trophy he could carry around. What he’d ever done to earn that, you’ve no idea now.

Hitoshi had been weary of him from the start.

“I don’t know, angel,” he told you, sprawled across your extra long twin bed while you did your hair in the little mirror that sat on your desk. “He seems a little…” pausing between words, treading carefully, “off.”

You’d gotten angry with him at that. You told him that he just didn’t like that you were happy and not hanging out with him–that he was only jealous that he couldn’t follow you like a lost puppy anymore. Your words had very clearly wounded him, but he recovered before you could think too much of it–the hurt bleeding back into his practiced indifference.

“Just be careful, okay?” he asked quietly as you all but tossed him out of your dorm. “Call me if you need anything.”

You’d brushed it off, along with everyone else's thinly-veiled warnings, and continued to see Kyoji. Things were going well enough–he graduated and took you with him. There might have been something foreboding about it, but it was fleeting and you didn’t put up a fight–didn’t dig your heels in at all as he was picking up the boxes made up of everything you were before him and loading them into the back of his car. You completed your last year at UA from the bedroom of the apartment you were suddenly sharing–all tall ceilings and chrome appliances. All for show, sparking and without a sign of life–just how Kyoji pictured it. There wasn’t a sign of you anywhere–all of your boxes had ended up in a storage unit not far from UA. They hadn’t even made it the whole drive to the apartment–it hadn’t taken long at all for him to convince you that he could buy you things that were far nicer than what you had in them.

You still saw Hitoshi, but your interactions were rare. If he caught wind that you were on campus for any reason, he’d seek you out–joyfully ignoring the cold shoulder you usually tried to give him. He’d loop an arm around your neck, laughing at the way you bristled at his touch. You pretended not to notice how forced it was–how he raked his eyes over you, searching for something you didn’t want him to see. Both of you caught in a bizarre performance of make believe in front of your other friends, who all regarded you with the same, thinly-veiled apprehension. Scanning for something that wasn’t yet there, but that surely would be. All of you a group of dangling marionettes, creaking clumsily toward the final act.

Kyoji didn’t like Hitoshi. He’d made that clear from the beginning. He thought that your relationship with the purple-haired hero was strange, going so far as to tell you that Hitoshi was “toxic”– someone who was “isolating you from the people who cared for you”. The fact that Hitoshi behaved like he did–mostly aloof, eager to wound with his quick tongue–made it an easy sell, despite him only ever regarding you with a gentle fondness. Kyoji stressed that he was only worried, because clearly Hitoshi had manipulated you into some semblance of friendship with him–one that was surely only transactional to him. It had always been clear, to Kyoji–who was wiser and older and only ever wanted the best for you–so you let him steer you away from Hitoshi. You closed your eyes when he turned you away from your other friends, too–letting him take the wheel. He knew better than you did, you were sure.

Now you know it was bullshit, but you were in love, supposedly–you believed him because you had no reason to doubt him. And he loved you–he told you so, in all of his elaborate, and often very public, displays of affection. Each overblown effort made you uncomfortable, but he’d gone through so much trouble–and made sure you were aware of it. So you let him love you like that, even if it left you feeling a little hollow.

You scoff at the memory, now. Curled up in the corner, locked in your bedroom. Bruised and weak, you reach for your phone on the floor next to you. You scroll until you find his name.

He watches your face pop up on his phone on the coffee table. Half asleep, he reaches to pause the movie he’d been watching, and presses the green button by your name.

“Hi, angel.” he murmurs through a yawn.

“Hitoshi,” you croak, and he’s upright immediately. By your tone, he knows you’re not safe. He curses himself for not catching this sooner–he should have known that things had gotten worse when you stopped answering his texts a few weeks ago. He’d given you space, hoping that time show you what kind of person Kyoji really was, but it’s apparent now that it only served to isolate you further. He’s made up his mind, though–the gears in his brain slip into place automatically, and he won’t let himself feel remorse over what he’s about to do–not yet, anyway. He’ll ask his questions–give you the chance to lie to him, like he knows you will–but he’s already decided. He hopes that you won’t hate him for it.

“What’s going on?”

“Just–” a sharp intake of breath, like it hurts you, “so tired. I’m so tired of this.”

He takes a breath himself–deep and rattling in his chest, pleading with himself to keep a level head. He needs to, or he won’t be able to do this. He just needs to get you out–to get you somewhere safe. He squeezes his eyes shut, and pictures your reality–alone, hurt, and curled into yourself. He feels his pulse pick up, and tries to think of something else.

Questions be damned. He needs to do this now.

He says a quick, silent prayer to whomever is listening. To please let this work. To make you understand–to maybe forgive him, one day.

He steadies himself, and opens his eyes.

“Are you hurt?”

“Um–no, I don’t know, I–”

He’s flooded with pain, all at once. Sharp and radiating, in his eye and over his rib cage, and across his throat in a way that feels suspiciously like–

You were hurt, then.

He’s overwhelmed by the full range of your emotions, too, as intimately as if they were his–shock, at first. He jolts as you startle, like the lights have just flickered out during a heavy storm. He feels the moment the recognition hits you–when you realize what he’s done–and he feels it when you start to fight it.

“Please stop,” it’s a whispered plea that comes from him, into the receiver he keeps up to your ear. He hears your breath hitch.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he says, and he’s moving now–already down the front steps and out the door.

It’s effort, like this–he wasn’t sure if he would even be able to use his quirk over the phone. He’d asked Aizawa about it, who eyed him for a long time before he’d answered simply, “You should really think about it.”

And he has, but he sees no other option. Hitoshi knows, very acutely, that he is hurting you– that he’s not doing a good thing right now. The thought of it turns in his stomach, but he can’t stop. Not until he knows you’re safe.

He envisions your body in his mind. It’s fuzzy, at best–the outline of you is warbled and distorted, but he can do this.

“We’re gonna move now, baby,” he rasps, suddenly fatigued by the exertion of keeping himself moving and keeping you in his grasp. Like a villain, he thinks, and promptly ignores.

He starts to move you and the feeling is nearly blinding–you’re in pain. His own rib cage seizes and it knocks the breath out of him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he tries to placate you, even though he knows it’s shallow, “We just need to get you standing. Can you do that for me?”

It’s stupid of him to try to ask anything of you right now, and he hears you echo the sentiment–you’re still fighting him, though not as valiantly as before. He can feel how exhausted you are, and it’s not your injuries that make his chest ache now.

He hurries past a gas station and realizes he’s closer to you than he thought. He hadn’t been paying attention, not really–hadn’t even bothered to disguise himself with more than his black hoodie pulled over his head. He hears voices to his right and realizes that he really didn’t think this through–that he could easily be caught off guard right now, with all of his focus on you. Driving wasn’t an option, though–it was dangerous enough just for him to try to walk and do this.

He catches himself trying to create distance in his mind. To call it this, instead of naming it. Because if he allows himself to recognize what he’s really doing to you, he won’t be able to keep you under his quirk, and he just needs to get you out–

He feels a bump to both knees, and he realizes that he’s gotten you up and moving. He sees the vague outline of your bedroom window, and thanks whatever god is up there that you live on the first floor. Now that he’s closer to you, your body is more in focus. He can manage like this.

He comes to a stop at a street corner, less than a block from your house. He takes a breath in, and focuses again.

“Okay angel,” he says, keeping his voice soft, “we need to get this open. I’m going to be gentle, but it’s still going to hurt.”

It does–immediately. Having to lift the window with one arm to keep the phone to your ear–the only way to keep up the connection–is putting too much strain on the fractures of your ribs. He feels you thrash in his mind, and he almost wishes he could hear your voice, just so you could scream at him. He wishes he could at least give you that.

All at once the pain is cut off and bleeds into something different. Panic, he recognizes. Hitoshi feels the adrenaline spike in your body and realizes he’s run out of time.

He needs to get you out now.

He takes off in a sprint toward the direction of your apartment. His hold on you falters, only for a second, but it makes you stumble. He feels his own fear spike.

“I’m coming,” he tells you, and it comes out like a plea, “I’m right there baby, just hold on–”

He hears the yelling as he rounds the corner. He sees you then, half way out the window, and he knows if he lets go of you now, you won’t make it out.

He feels a bruising pain wrap around his wrist, and he goes cold.

Hitoshi makes it to the window before he knows it and lets you go. He wraps his arms around your middle as you go limp, and when he looks up, he is face to face with the man who did this to you.

Kyoji, who is still crushing your wrist in his hand.

“What the fuck,” Hitoshi grinds out, and it is lethal when it leaves him, “are you doing?”

“What am I do–”

He doesn’t give Kyoji any time to give a real answer before he’s in his head. The fatigue is stifling, but his adrenaline fuels his quirk. The grip on your wrist falls slack. He pulls you the rest of the way out of the window, careful not to aggravate your ribs further. You whimper, not yet fully conscious, as he sets you down gently in the grass.

“Give me one second, angel,” he tells your limp form, brushing your hair back from your eyes.

He takes a step forward, as does Kyoji–rigid and clearly unwilling, but he moves despite himself, because he’s no longer in control. Through the window, Histoshi takes a long look at him, and feels nothing but contempt. He lets it bleed into the connection between them–feels only a white, hot anger coming from the man in his hold, and it makes him smile.

“You won’t make that mistake again.”

He watches from outside himself, then, as he leads Kyoji’s hands through the open window. Hitoshi feels nothing as he slams it down over his fingers. He lets the bastard go right as it connects.

Hitoshi hears the crunch of splintering bone, and only watches as his victim comes back to himself. Feels nothing as he watches him process what has just happened. And then, as a howl of pain breeches the silence, a sick part of him howls back—feeling more than a little justified.

He watches for a second more, and then turns his attention back to you. Still limp in the grass–whether you’re still unconscious or you’re pretending to be, he isn’t sure, but he couldn’t blame you if it was the latter. Hitoshi gathers you in his arms, and you don’t fight him. He wonders if you have any fight left.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, rubbing his cheek against your temple in some vain attempt at comfort as he walks, “I’m so sorry.”

Hitoshi is a nervous wreck.

He fumbles through his own kitchen like he’s never been in it before. He opens cabinets, closes them, and opens them again. He’s opened the fridge at least three times in the last five minutes, like something will be different each time he opens it.

He has no idea what to do with himself.

He comes to a stop, finally, in front of the counter and braces his hands against the cool stone. He lets his head hang and takes in a deep, shuddering breath through his nose. The only thing he can focus on is the knowledge that you are asleep in the next room.

He’d brought you in and set you on his bed, checking to make sure none of your injuries were life threatening. When he was satisfied that they were not, he turned on his heel and all but sprinted out of his room, closing the door as softly as he could behind him. Sleep wasn’t an option for him after that.

“Fuck,” he breathes, knuckles straining in their grip on the countertop. He was nothing if not cowardly.

He nearly comes out of his skin when his phone rings next to him. He spares it a glance, and feels his stomach lurch when he sees who it is. He hits the green button, and it’s not a second after that the voice on the other end lays into him.

“You fuckin’ idiot,” Bakugou seethes, “what did you do?”

Hitoshi has never experienced Bakugou as quiet as he is right now. The silence on the other end of the line stretches and expands like a living thing–it’s suffocating, but he allows it to drag on. He won’t be the one to break it.

He hears Bakugou sigh and lets out a breath of his own.

“The injuries–” he says finally, sounding tired in a way that Hitoshi hasn’t heard in a long time, “are they–”

“Not life threatening,” he grits, hearing the strain in his own voice, “I can take care of them here. But Bakugou–”

“I get it,” Bakugou cuts him off, gruff. For the first time in Hitoshi’s life, the constant of his harsh inflection is a comfort. “Was fuckin’ stupid, and you’re real lucky I was the one to respond. But I get it.”

Hitoshi says nothing. He can’t say anything. Bakugou sighs again, long and resigned.

“I’ll handle it,” he says finally, and Hitoshi can barely breathe, “Just take care of your shit.”

“I will,” he whispers, but Bakugou has already hung up.

He stares at the phone in his hand then, like it might come alive at any second. Now that he knows what he can do with it, he thinks he ought to throw it down and crush it under his heel.

His mind goes back to where it always does–to you. He knows that it’s a vile thing he’s done, and he doesn’t know how he’ll face you now. He just couldn’t stand the way your voice cracked every time you called–he isn’t too proud to admit that he was afraid. He’s responded to so many of these calls, and he knew of the few that heroes didn’t make it there in time–he doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost you like that. He couldn’t sit and wait for that to happen–that was never an option.

He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. He tries to resign himself to what's coming when you wake up. Tries to tell himself that it will still be worth it if you hate him–and he knows that it is, because you’ll be alive. But he will be another man that you can no longer trust, and as much as he deserves that, he can’t stand it.

He swallows thickly, setting the phone down and pushing off the counter. He supposes he could at least make himself useful and get some food ready for you while you slept.

You don’t know how long you’ve been awake, but it feels like far too long.

Every jagged intake of breath rattles an ache through your rib cage. It shouldn’t feel like that, you think, but the thought fizzles out of your mind with the rest of them. It’s enough effort to force your lungs to inflate. You reach out a hand, slowly, ignoring the pain that radiates up your arm when you close your fingers around the sheets beneath you. They’re soft, and they’re not yours. But you knew that.

You don’t have the luxury of survivor’s amnesia. You remember everything.

You won’t cry. You wish you could, and you think it’d do you well–but to cry requires energy that you just don’t have. So you blink your eyes open through the sting, watching the fuzzy outline of the ceiling fan come into focus. It whirls around lazily, and it seems silly that it’s not doing much of any cooling, but you think that maybe Hitoshi couldn’t stand for things to be still when he put you there, so he turned it on.

Hitoshi.

You suck in a breath, gritting your teeth at the flash of pain. You feel it everywhere, and you are catapulted back into the feeling of your limbs moving against your will. It makes you want to curl into yourself, but you have a feeling you’d risk puncturing a lung if you did, so you lay there and let the feeling wash over you, pinning you to the bed.

You might be angry at him–you can’t be sure. You feel what could be anger, broadly, but you have a feeling that it’s true target is beyond Hitoshi, beyond Kyoji, beyond the way you’ve been rendered immobile more times than you care to count. You can’t reach it yet, but it is certainly there.

You know that your injuries are severe, but that they will heal. The physical ones, anyway. You don’t know how to go about healing what lurks beneath the surface–what’s been circling in the dark for years now. You’d reached a point about a month ago, when the verbal abuse became physical–a new place, one without much feeling at all–that had startled you at first. But you found it was better when you allowed yourself to lean into it–the physical pain from a throttled neck or a broken bone paled in comparison to the vast emptiness of the quiet void you could escape into. But the feelings come back, as you lay here, and you yearn for the dark nothing again. You know suddenly that it’s not the broken ribs keeping you here in this bed.

Despite every nerve in your body screaming at you to stop, you push yourself to a sitting position. It takes a while, and you have to twist like one of those wooden snake toys you had as a child. You feel your bones clink off one another similarly, and you breathe out something that sounds to you like a laugh. It’s ridiculous, the whole thing–to be reduced to something so fractured and still feel the need to stand up and keep going. It’s hard for you to see the merit in that right now, but you do it anyway.

Hitoshi nearly comes out of his skin for the second time that day when he sees you standing in the doorway out of the corner of his eye.

He looks at you and he knows he should stop, because he’s not in control of his face right now and he wants to be composed for you. But he is not, and he knows you can see it.

He can’t look away. There’s a bruise that spans from your cheekbone to your eyebrow that he’s fixated on, which feels like the safest place to look right now because he knows if he looks at the one across your throat, he will lose out to the animal growling in his chest. Knows he will walk out the door and not stop at Kyoji’s broken fingers.

He squeezes his eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. When he looks at you again, he can’t tell what you're feeling. You are more devoid of emotion than he’s ever seen you, and it scares him. He opens his mouth, because the tension is crushing him.

“I–”

“Overstepped.”

He blinks, unsure if he’s just hallucinated. It isn’t until he watches your mouth move around the words that he’s sure he didn’t.

“You overstepped,” you say again, flatly.

“I know,” and he does. He thinks that’s an understatement. “I’m sorry.”

He watches the corner of your lip curl into something he doesn’t recognize.

“You’re sorry.” You repeat him like you’ve never heard the words before. “What is it that you’re sorry for?”

“I know that I shouldn’t have used my quirk on you,” he says, too quickly, “I just knew that he hurt you and I was–”

“You were what?” the tone of your voice is a warning when you cut him off, “hoping to be the hero that saves the day? You were inside me–did you think that wouldn’t hurt me?”

“No–I know it did,” he hears the plea in his voice and hates it. He knows he has no right to ask you to hear him. Really, he shouldn’t say anything, but he keeps talking anyway. “I know it did, and I’m sorry, I just knew you needed help–”

You cut him off with a bitter laugh, and then a hiss, hands hovering over your abdomen like you’re trying to wave away the pain. He feels it in his own body, quirk or not.

“I never asked for your help, Hitoshi.”

He’s quiet then, feeling the phantom ache spread to his limbs. He knows you didn’t–it’s not often that abuse survivors do. It didn’t matter how close you were to him–you were out on that island alone, all the same.

“Would you have ever?”

You glare at him. You open your mouth and close it just as quickly–he hears your teeth clack together like you’re biting down on what you really want to say. He watches you think about it.

“No.”

He sighs, running a hand over his face. He knew the answer, but it’s not any less jarring to hear you say it.

“I didn’t feel like I had a choice,” he whispers, “I didn’t know what else to do.”

You let out a laugh–clipped and indignant. A knife, thrown right at him.

“You didn’t have a choice?” you snarl, and he wants to grab his words out of the air and swallow them, but he knows he’s too late. “You took over my body and you want to talk about choice?”

He can’t say anything. He watches the emotion flood you and knows it’s his doing.

“Jesus Christ,” you laugh, “did you ever consider asking me what I needed, before you did that? Or did you think that being a hero meant you knew better?”

It’s startling, how on the mark you are. The shame lumbers over him like a tidal wave– he’s never asked anyone what they needed, not really. He just acted. He was always just acting, never thinking first. Until now, the former made him a great hero.

“What I really need is for everyone to get their fucking hands off of me and to let me have the control that I deserve to have over my life.”

He can’t look at you, and he knows for that he is a coward. He knows that he has done something so unforgivable and he hates the way he wants to get on the ground and beg for your forgiveness anyway. He knows this is the part where you walk out of his house and never speak to him again. He considers telling you that he’ll call someone to come get you so you don’t have to stay here.

And that thought gives him pause, because there he goes again–deciding what’s best for you.

He wants to stop doing that. He’s been looking at you as a statistic, and that alone breaks his heart, because you are his best friend.

You are his best friend—the love of his life—and you are hurting right now.

So he gathers all of his resolve and meets your eyes. He tries very hard not to flinch away from the anger you pin him with when he asks, “what do you want to do right now?”

Your face twists with an emotion he doesn’t recognize for an instant, and then it’s gone, and there’s that blank, unfeeling look staring back at him. You sigh, and it surprises him when he hears it tremble.

“I–there’s blood. On me.”

“Yeah,” his voice is a whisper, “do you want to shower?”

You sag against the doorframe, like someone’s let go of your strings for the first time. He smothers the urge to go to you and hold you up himself.

“I don’t think I can stand,” you rasp, eyes shut tight.

“Can I run you a bath?” he asks gently, rising to his feet.

You nod tightly, watching him as he approaches you. He stops a foot in front of you, cautious.

“Can I help you to the bathroom?”

You eye him like you think it’s a trap, and it’s a twisted knife in his chest. But he doesn’t waver—he waits. He leaves room for a no.

He bites back the relieved sigh that wants to escape him when you reach for him.

It takes a minute to figure out how to support you without hurting your ribs. You settle for looping your arm through his, and he covers it with his other hand, careful of your wrist. He gets you to the bathroom and sits you on the toilet while he turns on the faucet.

“Hitoshi.”

He almost doesn’t hear you, over the water, but the shake of your voice has him whipping around, posturing to protect–

“Don’t do that again.”

And it’s him, then, who has hurt you– who continues to hurt you. He watches the tears pool in your eyes and feels so, so sick.

“I won’t,” it’s quiet, but he hopes you understand that he means it, “not ever again.”

The water that ripples around your body is tinted pink. You wonder how long you’ll have to watch pieces of you slip down the drain until you’re whole again.

For a while you just sit–the warm water offers some small comfort if you close your eyes and pretend that this is a regular day for you. That you’re not coming apart at your seams. But the temporary lull is interrupted when the water grows cold.

“Hitoshi,” you call, quietly. You have a feeling he’s sitting just outside of the door.

“Mm?” He is.

“The water is cold.”

“Do you need help getting out?”

“No, I–” you struggle a bit, to vocalize what you need, despite so adamantly wanting that not 20 minutes ago. All of your bravado from earlier has slipped down the plumbing with the rest of you. “It’s cold.”

You think you can hear his brain go through the mental gymnastics routine you’ve tasked it with, and you try to feel a little sorry for him, but before you can get too carried away he catches up.

“Can you pull the curtain closed?”

It’s hard, and it hurts, but you manage. “It’s closed.”

You hear him come in and kneel beside the tub. You watch him reach into the water–the water that’s saturated with you–to grab the plug from the drain, and your heart kicks in your chest.

“Hitoshi, the water is all–”

“It’s okay,” he says gently, and you hear the seal break with a little bubble beneath the surface, “It’s alright.”

He lets about half of the water out before he twists the faucet. You feel the water warm up again and you sigh, trying to relax a bit. Hitoshi dips a hand into the tub, moving the warmth around.

When it’s full, he twists the faucet back and moves to stand.

“Do you—” the words taste uncertain when they leave you, “do you think you could sit here with me?”

He doesn’t hesitate this time, and it makes you feel a little better. You hear him move to sit next to you–you watch his outline through the curtain. When you look down, the water is clear.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” you whisper. Not quite willing to apologize, but still feeling like you should say something.

“Yes, you should have.”

You pause, and when the tears come, you let them. “I’m tired, Hi.”

He lets out a breath at the nickname and you wrap your arms around yourself, needing to feel some sort of comfort.

“I know you are, angel.”

The silence is stretched between you, but it’s permeable this time. He’s trying to extend an olive branch—you decide to let him.

“Will you help me out of here?” you ask quietly.

It takes some maneuvering to get yourself standing, and when you gather the bravery needed to draw back the curtain, Hitoshi is already holding up a towel and looking starkly away from you, the tips of his ears a little red. You’d laugh if you could, but instead you just lean into him and let him wrap the towel around you. It’s warm, and you realize he must have put it in the drier at some point during your bath. The consideration has you stepping out of the tub and further into his arms–wrapping yourself around his middle before you can think better of it. He goes rigid for only a second before you feel his arms around your shoulders, caging your head in and pulling you closer. It’s startling how familiar it feels–how safe it feels, despite what he’s done–and you don’t fight the sob that tears through your throat when he presses his cheek to your temple and runs his fingers through the damp tangles of your hair.

He sways gently, rocking you like he’s consoling an infant. You don’t have it in you to be anything but comforted by it. You let out a broken whimper of his name through your tears.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs as you gather the material of his shirt in your fists, “I know.”

Before either of you know it, weeks have passed. You haven’t mentioned leaving and Hitoshi wouldn’t dream of asking you to go, so you stay. He takes every day as an opportunity to gain your trust.

It’s a fickle thing–he notices every time you flinch away from him when he accidentally brushes against you. He notices how far you sit from him on the couch, and how quiet you’ve been. It hurts tremendously, but he knows it is his fault. He’ll give you all of the time and space you need.

He cooks for you–both because he’s not sure how else to care for you right now, and because he just likes to know that you’re being looked after. He remembers how often he’d call in the middle of your “dinner”–something frozen and microwaved because Kyoji hadn’t bothered to follow through on the plans you’d made and you were left alone. Hitoshi thinks this is the best way he can help you heal–to make sure your body gets all of the vitamins it needs. It’s a small thing, really, but he hopes it means something.

He sees you out of the corner of his eye–leaning against the doorway, watching him. He smiles softly at you before he continues slicing the vegetables he’s picked out.

“What are you making?”

“Soup,” he tells you, sliding the cubed carrots off the edge of the knife and into the broth that boils beneath it, “seemed like a good day for it.”

He hears you hum, a sweet little affirmative that makes him smile again. He pulls a potato from the vegetables in front of him and turns it over a few times in his hands–checking for blemishes and wondering if he should cut it differently than the carrots, to give it some variety–if you’d appreciate the extra effort.

He startles when he feels pressure between his shoulder blades–goes rigid when he realizes it’s your forehead pressed against him.

“Angel?” he croaks, cautious.

“I’m trying, Hi.”

He lets out a breath, setting the knife down in front of him. “I know you are.”

“I just,” you start, pressing a little harder into him to emphasize your frustration, “I don’t want you to think that I’m punishing you–”

“Hey,” he calls to you softly, trying to interrupt whatever self deprecation is happening in your brain, “I don’t think that. I know that it’s going to take some time.”

You sigh, a strained thing, and when you wrap your arms around his middle, he indulges himself in the unbridled relief that comes with the knowledge that you want to forgive him. He looks down at where your hands cross over his abdomen–the bruise on your wrist is nearly faded now. A tiny yellow stain on your skin. He wants to smooth it away with his thumb, but he doesn’t–he keeps the ball in your court and his hands glued flat to the countertop.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m…” you pause, thinking about it, “I’m okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

“Alright,” he murmurs, looking over his shoulder to get a glimpse of you, “you want to go find a movie to watch? The food’ll be done soon.”

You hum, untangling yourself from him to do just that. Hitoshi finds that the weight of your absence is far heavier than he expects it to be.

It’s a start. There are undoubtedly things you still need to say and questions that you need answers to. He’ll give them when you’re ready. For now, he reaches to turn up the flame on the stove, stirring the broth with new intention.

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

#listen to quietly into letting go by manchester orchestra for the full effect #let me tell you something. i love exploring hurt and accountability in relationships #i just feel like i never get to see that play out in real time. especially now with the whole 'if he breathes the wrong way cut him off'#but idk i think it's important and it helps me heal my own hurts to write it out this way u know??#i just think our inherent humanity is the most precious thing about us #i hold really tightly to the thought that the connections we make are not so fragile that they can't weather a few storms!#even if those storms level our houses in the process! we can come back from that!#i’m not the worst thing i’ve ever done and neither are you!#shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou hitoshi x you #mha shinsou fic #shinsou hitoshi fic #mha fic #mha writing #fic: i just sat there quietly

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br1ghtestlight · 8 months

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im at a point in my life where im like. if i ever did hypothetically want to be in a relationship with someone (which im not totally against) and im already 22 and dont know anybody i would ever be with romantically and dont have any irl friends or even acquaintances and ive never done ANYTHING romantic ever at all maybe its getting to be too late for me?? which like if i was interested in the concept of romance what if its too late for me to ever have that with anyone bcuz everyone else already HAS those experiences + with me being aromantic it seems like the kinda thing that might not ever happen. and im not sure if i would be okay with that or not

when i was 15 it was easy to be like "well i can do that in five years its fine there's no rush" but now im like well maybe there is a rush?? if i ever wanted to do those things now would be the time to start but there isnt a WAY for me to start bcuz of my circumstances and i dont even know anyone my own age. if im totally 100% romance replused aromantic thats fine but i would like to be given the choice to know that and that choice is.... not really there anymore

#typical aging anxiety stuff im doing nothing with my life etc etc #my lack of social relationships irl is like. very bad for me but there isnt a way out #so i dont know what to do?? am i just going to be lonely forever??? do i want that #i thought if i got outside more and moved out of my mom's house i could meet people and make friends but there might jsut be something #inherently wrong with me as a person #which would not be surprising considering #txt

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shopcat · 1 month

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this might sound a bit dumb and out of no where but hmmm. how do i say this... there are a lot of posts and a general consensus about quote unquote media literacy on tumblr and how we feel about it, as well as the things that go hand in hand with all that (discussion of mischaracterisation, symbolism, analysis, etc) and i think people (generally) need to be more open about their thoughts or findings and less i don't know... harsh isn't the word but like, just less assumptive that people are inherently out to be willfully ignorant when it comes to dissecting media thematically or discussing characterisation & the narrative, esp things where the outside factor of the consumer/creator changes things drastically if you do or do not know or experience something (and therefore would have no reason to be like, somehow maliciously interpreting something). i guess?

like i get it and i absolutely understand and also hate when people seem to go out of their way to say all the wrong things and stubbornly cling onto things that are WRONG, and confronting someone's opinion and it being SO wrong that you can comfortably think of a rebuttal is ultimately very satisfying and scratches a certain itch and can lead to a lot of thoughtful discussion despite being essentially a big "get a look at THIS guy". but i do think there is a vast difference between like, a) someone masquerading behind being knowing buzzwords and being able to say the right words in the right order, b) someone who isn't familiar with certain concepts and DOESN'T know the right words to say but is happily open to learning, and c) someone using the guise of talking about "media literacy" to be ignorant, bigoted or willfully misinterpreting something in a biased way who refuses to concede if confronted or goes out of their way to pick arguments. whilst the first two aren't malicious, both could turn out to be, just like the last category tends to be rejects of the first two who dug their heels in about it.

whilst there is a DIFFERENCE if someone was being say bigoted and prejudiced with hateful intent, not being "media literate" is not actually a moral failing as much as it is made out to be in moments of sweeping generalisation, and i think punishing people for not knowing how to hold thoughtful discussion is obviously cruel and dumb and unnecessarily othering. you don't want people to learn things out of a sense of shame or guilt. i know it's not the INTENT, and i don't like, interpret even 99% of discussion about this whole thing that way, but that doesn't change that discussing people very broadly who just Don't Know something is always going to leave the 1% of a LOT of harshness thrown against someone who doesn't deserve that. even if they're the stupidest twitterina known to man or something.

media literacy itself is not inherent and it is HARD, as much as people try to pretend it isn't. personally i am someone who has always and probably always WILL struggle to understand complex themes and often do need someone else to guide me towards thinking a certain way, thinking in these ways don't come naturally to me as much as i try my best to and i often think the "wrong" thing as my natural conclusion. and every Damn time that happens i see someone going "if you didn't realise this you're a fucking idiot" like woah man 😭 calm down. i dunno i feel like people just forget that this stuff is something you have to train like a muscle, esp things like vocabulary or a more complex academic way of speaking, and to some of us that is always going to be inherently inaccessible or it's going to take twice as long for us to grasp, for whatever reason. i just wish people were more fair is all.

#🐾#esp and i think i'm qualified to say this when it's someone who comes from a very isolated niche of online fandom or whatever. any online #community. who is used to being in that space with likeminded people and then loses their absolute shit when they're confronted with how #the average person thinks. like ohhhh my god calm down it is not that dramatic ever #as much as i like going to war about characterisation or something like that you don't need to be calling people evil and braindead and #stupid bc they didn't Politically Analyse a children's cartoon in great depth #😭😭😭#anyway ...#i think this is in a roundabout way connected to that one post going around i reblogged #abt media literacy being taught in highschool and people just not paying attention #and i still think that's like unfair as a position to hold bc Again i DIDNT go to high school as in i did Not Attend it #the breadth of my knowledge ends after year 7 #and that's just me. like yeah some people ARE idiots and ignorant and pretend Again like their brains welded shut #but people generally are always open to learning and a lot of people very much Like thoughtful discussion about the arts #and thematic analysis of their favourite shows so they can describe why they like them properly beyond ''i just like it''#and just really really broadly cutting them all off declaring them hopeless and indirectly declaring yourself smarter than them forever #is ultimately unhelpful. and fucking rude. if they've done or said nothing wrong at least #and even if they did think something wrong like damn that's happened to everyone please.. it happens all the time #there is just this inherent condescending way some people talk that gets on my damn nerves

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queendumpling · 8 months

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my sister starts college this week and it's made me really miss being a student... like while I absolutely hated exams and still do, I cannot help but romanticize being a university student. just lectures and seminars and walking to class when it's rainy and when it's the perfect cool sunny weather and walking through campus on crunchy leaves with my favorite song playing on my headphones, getting to see my friends constantly, staying up late half delirious from studying, eating in dining halls while typing my paper, coming to physics late with starbucks, literally discovering and learning something new in class that would fundamentally shift my perception of who I am as a person and how I view the world.

ok the last one mostly applies to my first two years of college where all the elective classes in humanities/literature were so perfect for me but couldn't continue doing once I started pharm school stuff. the local bookstore here is also the official university's bookstore so the basement is full of coursebooks. and while looking through those shelves the other day I couldn't help but just wish to be a student again and be studying complit. it hurts me sometimes when people I know scoff and make fun of those that study humanities when like I feel in another life that would have been me

#dumpling thoughts #i guess when the value of studying something is based on how much money you can make with it just really sits the wrong way with me #perhaps doubly so with things that don't seem to have inherent.. meaning? like what do you do with a complit degree. what does one do #with a degree in philosophy etc.. idk never underestimate what value there is in understanding the human condition and understanding art #which provides meaning and perspective on the human condition

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bogunicorn · 1 year

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i have like 5 posts in my drafts about that therapy-speak article, but they distill down to "half of it was legit, half of it was obnoxious whining, you are not owed anyone's attention, especially if you aren't at a certain level of emotional intimacy with them to begin with, why do y'all want exit interviews with people who clearly dislike you so goddamn much".

anyway ghosting is like... fine, actually. most people don't ghost out of nowhere, and frankly the desire to have someone DM you and explain all the shit wrong with you instead of just peacing out and making their issues with you Not Your Problem is a little screwy to me.

but also i'm convinced that at least half of the people who are like "at least tell me why you don't like me" actually mean "i would rather you feel obligated to sit there and take it while i tell you what a shitbag you are for not wanting to be my friend", but they know it makes them sound like an asshole.

#bog post #stay salty #obligatory disclaimer for the inevitable 'what if' people:#obviously at some level of emotional intimacy #yeah you do need to tell them you're bailing and don't want to be their friend #like... if someone in my little core group of friends seemingly randomly stops answering my messages (and we haven't fought before then)#and then is like 'you aren't part of my enrichment team respect my boundaries you toxic narcissist'#when i keep trying to get in contact to make sure they're not dead or something #that's an inherently shitbag thing to do #but for 99% of the people i know online #if they ghost me or i ghost them yeah it would probably suck for the ghostee #but neither of us would be bad people for it #negative emotions and experiences are part of life #part of being an adult is not diagnosing everyone who doesn't like you with Bad Person Disease #also like... people are just kind of allowed to be wrong about you if you ALREADY don't care about their opinion #the people i've ghosted probably think i'm an asshole #but i already thought their opinions were useless garbage so who cares #that's why i ghosted them in the first place lmao #no rebagels for y'all on this one sorry #i'm ghosting your rebagels #ghostbagels

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