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just-doing-lesbian-things · 1 year

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I headcannon Avatar Korra as a lesbian

Ik the fandom largely recognizes her as bi, and idt the creators knew about comphet so they probs didn't even know they could make her a lesbian after everything with Mako, but her romantic journey feels ridiculously similar to my experience as a lesbian who dealt with deeply rooted comphet (compulsory heterosexuality) and I want to explain why and how this character means to much to me in this respect

(Don't come for me; it's a f***ing headcannon and I acknowledge that it's not anything more than that)

Background: Comphet

So comphet is ultimately borne from a lack of representation. When you're a little kid in a society that only allows heterosexual-passing love stories to exist (and queer rep is made through a hetero lens), you often don't even realize that you can feel same-sex love and attraction; that it's even an option. So when you do feel those feelings you chalk it up to something else.

It technically affects everyone, but it disproportionally affects lesbians (which is why many lesbians get up in arms about other groups of people using the term to describe non-lesbian experiences) because when this happens in a patriarchal society--one that centers men and men's stories--being a girl/woman who doesn't like men is astoundingly difficult to wrap your brain around because everything is pushing you at men.

It can be even harder to wrap your brain around than being asexual (note: i say can be), because at least with pure asexuality you aren't attracted to anyone, whereas lesbians not only don't feel the "right" feelings for men, they feel them towards other women. And as women themselves who (1) may never have truly wanted to receive those feelings from men but (2) have been raised to expect that sort of attention from only men, getting over that those feelings are okay to feel for women (that it's not inherently predatory as men's attraction to women is made out to be and can really feel like when you're not attracted to men at all) It's a clusterfuck basket of feelings to sort through. And this leads to a lot of tension as you struggle against your own self-expectations in multiple areas.

Why I See Korra As A Lesbian:

1. What we know about her upbringing.

The Avatarverse is queerphobic. We learn about that in the comics when Korra tells her parents about her relationship with Asami, and from her later conversation with Kya. Same-sex relationships are taboo in the Avatar world, a topic of conversation best not shared, and best experienced on the DL so right away we have a representation issue. And

We learn pretty early in Korra's story that she's been isolated from peers her whole life. She's spent her whole life training at the compound and Naga is her only friend. This level of isolation means her only experiences of romantic relationships are going to be from witnessing her parents, coupled White Lotus members/guards/etc, and what she hears from mainstream stories--which again, as we learned from the comics, were likely not queer as queer relationships are taboo.

We don't see the same level of outright misogyny from Korra's era like we saw from Aang's era, but the centering of men was still there baked into the familial gender roles and expectations--meaning the centering of men in women's lives was probably-definitely also there.

All of those points together means that Korra's upbringing most likely gave her a heterosexual expectation for herself and lends itself to a situation where a young lesbian would definitely have some comphet to work through.

2. Her relationship with Mako.

Often, lesbians dealing with comphet will "choose" guys to have crushes on based on their perceived social value (often it's the mainstream safe option or "the underdog") and sometimes lesbians know they're choosing this guy, and sometimes it's more subconscious, often experienced getting oddly obsessive only to discover they're not into him once he reciprocates or the relationship is established ("getting a boyfriend has been achieved. societal validation unlocked. but wait, why don't I like the reality of having a boyfriend?").

That "oh she likes him" music played for Korra after Mako pulled impressive stuff at the Pro Bending arena and was waving to the crowd. And like, yes, people can become more attractive based on their actions and achievements, but a lesbian under comphet would definitely see Mako prove himself to be an impressive guy (loved by an entire cheering audience) and go "I choose that one." I myself used to scan a room, pick the most conventionally attractive guy, and go "i want that one to like me" and then genuinely thought I liked him. This behavior is not about actual attraction, it's about a subconscious understanding of social dynamics and what you need to be valuable to a community--emphasis on the subconscious.

She gets pretty obsessive about him, which makes total sense if he's her first crush and she's been isolated her whole life, but also lines up with the comphet lesbian.

That line in her confession, too, "I really like you and I think we were meant for each other." Like, girl, what soulmate romance novels have you been reading between training sessions?? And this doesn't mean she couldn't have actually been attracted to Mako, but it does mean she really built him up in her head (and what she should expect from a chosen guy).

Then they get together, and you know how long that lasted for? Like, two episodes. This was where I started to think she never actually liked Mako. Immediately Korra starts picking fights with him and then quickly physically separates herself from him. And she does this to him almost every time they're in a scene together after they start dating. Meanwhile, Mako was just being a relatively supportive, attentive boyfriend so clearly her own feelings were the trigger. This wasn't a problem of personalities clashing, it really seemed like Korra didn't like the reality of being in a relationship with Mako.

In the end Mako takes it on that he's just not equipped to handle being the support-partner to the Avatar and Korra agrees that they're better off as friends, I even seem to remember her being the one to verbalize that they made better friends than gf/bf all after she worked so hard to convince him to be with her. And why I ask you? Possibly because as soon as she had the boyfriend, she realized she didn't actually want a boyfriend. Emphasis on the boy.

She took like zero social cues from him: He says he's confused, she jumps in and kisses him. He's uncomfortable with her grabbing his arm, she tells him to play along (translation: "suck it up, this is happening"). And then there was that scene where she kissed him out of nowhere in the locker room. (And Korra picks up on social cues from everyone else, so it's not an autism thing or something.) This is actually behavior you'll see frequently from people who are more into the idea of a person than the actual person. Liking an actual person requires acknowledging their personhood (not just how great they are), and Korra does way less of that than she does of deciding how things with Mako can or should go all, the way up to their mutual decision to just be friends. And lesbians under comphet? Yeah, liking the idea of a guy is the closest they usually get to actually liking a guy.

I don't doubt that Korra doesn't care for Mako, later seasons definitely proved that time and time again, but: a lesbian under comphet could very easily mistake that care for different feelings and lead to a relationship like what Korra had with Mako.

3. Her Intro to Bolin

It's such a small thing, but that first moment she has with him in the gym, the way she bristles at his "implication" that they were "together" screams bby lesbian to me. Because I did this. Often times I was looking out for such implications. And I've been a bby lesbian so I would know (technically still am).

4. Apart from her intense and then very short-lived feelings for Mako, we never see her express interest in a guy again.

And four seasons does not translate to a lifetime of examples, but several guys are shown to express interest in Korra over those four seasons (I'm including Prince Wu hitting on her in their first encounters) and meanwhile we only see Korra interested in two people: a guy and a gal. And one of them, I think, can be really well explained by comphet.

5. What Her Relationship with Asami Tells Us

The way Korra acted toward Asami when she had feelings for her was completely different from the way she expressed her feelings for Mako. And, like, yes, she's been through at least two seasons of trauma since she first thought she liked Mako so she's changed, and this was a show on Nickelodeon so they wanted the queer to be as subtle/nonexistent as possible, but still:

The way Korra acts while liking Asami is c o m p l e t e l y different from how she acted when she was in her Mako phase.

Even after they get together in the comics, the way Korra expresses her interest in Asami is still completely different from her interest in Mako. Her interest in Mako was obsessive and forceful and after they got together it was very platonically comfortable in small moments before she consistently turned combative. Her interest in Asami was receptive and emotional, and then when they got together it was secure, protective, and fierce. And I'm not saying bisexuals can't experience this difference between two partners of different genders, but as a lesbian who dealt with comphet and then started dating the actual correct gender for her sexuality, her relationship with Mako screams of forcing something she thought she wanted. Especially when compared to her relationship with Asami.

In Conclusion

Arguments could be made for ace umbrella rep in Korra, and certainly the fandom's consensus is that she's bisexual rep, but I wanted to express a different possibility; one that never gets fully explored in media.

In the end: she's a cartoon character, so any aspect of her personhood is completely dependent on her creators (like what stan lee said about people who ask him which superhero would win in a fight, the answer is "whoever I want to win.") and while I super doubt the creators knew they could go this route to explain Korra (meaning it's probably not in the cards for actual cannon) I still hold this headcannon dear to me because I see so much of my own (misguided) romantic history reflected in it.

Thanks for reading.

#tlok #avatar korra #lesbian #comphet

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chaogongoozles · 5 months

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// vent , journal?, letter to the void to a specific person? Whatever, if ya know ya know//

Didn't think I'd have a close pal choose to be a dirty fucking pig (cop) apologist knowing damn well everything they do and done to marginalized groups, all while trying to tell me "I don't support them!.. but also don't call my coworkers pigs that's disrespectful >:(" bitch??? Blow it out your ass, you wanna fuck around with the pig squad thinking you can 'be a good one' while still supporting them because you work with them? Fine by me, but you're not my friend or ever will be as long as you keep that bluelivesmatter mentality knowing damn well who I am, or who my partner is, or everyone close who has been directly affected by them. Already trying to say the 'negative talk' that cops get is what's the main issue in society™ without wondering WHY so many people fucking hate cops? Or thinking the horrible conditions prisoners are put in is the police 'being underfunded ' when that's by fucking design? Crying that people are calling you horrible shit for being a cop apologist? Boohoo cry me a river, that'll never be nearly as bad as the abuse and deaths millions of people (majority black or Native American) face from the hands of the police.

Damn fucking shame you listened to all the goons around you + those back at home who brought you and your amazing artwork down to the point you even had to work with dirty swine. Thinking that's the only way you can "help people" when you know damn well there's many more opportunities and positions that actually help people (even incorporating your art into it), but instead choosing the very thing that's suppressing us while throwing away your hard work/passions. Fuck you. If you're going to chalk up the horrors that are happening as "fake news/online garbage" or "dumb people recording cops and wondering why they're getting arrested", you're already too far gone.

RIP to the person I once knew and loved. Guess what they say is true, you either grow with friends from childhood/highschool or grow apart. We've obviously grown apart. So good bye.

#shutupchao #this month has been eventful but god damn ...#love it when my loved ones choose to be bigots while telling the nonbinary lesbian with their black nonbinary partner to stop hating cops...#like... you fucking serious rn? oh you are? damn alright guess you're my enemy now #so be it #that won't stop me from doing what i can to not only have a successful career but one that helps people while we dismantle this shit system #you say its impossible i say fuck you #I'll die trying and satan be damned I'll fucking fight back if you get in my way with your piggy squad #having the audacity to say im doing nothing but 'complaining' while fighting back on what im trying to explain to ya the systemic issues smh #this is enough im done im moving on this is weight off my fucking chest #12-7-2023 #acab #again the audacity to say people are recording dumb shit when they're recording for their safety #not to mention the thousands of videos of murders happening at the hands of cops but you gonna call those victims 'dumb'... you're sick

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cheesus-doodles · 3 years

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Another Idea: Toman darling came out of puberty looking like a model and people are hitting on her and of course Toman beat them up, but they didn't know that she's dating Chifuyu or Senju lololol (Time leaper darling)

just for some reason suddenly really really felt like writing this - like i can't stop thinking about it kinda level 🤡 i swear im working hard on the baji kazu fic - it should be out next week Friday - pls don't hate me pls winky wink anon 🙏🙏🙏 i love u all equally i swear on Baji

a/n: the brainrot too strong send help i feel like i would explode if i dont keep writing

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Recommended Readings: A Friend In Me Part 1

Masterlist

tw: mild violence, yandere

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Valentine's Day

Yandere Platonic Toman Boys AU

"Please go out with me!"

The sun had just started to rise over the horizon outside the vast windows that lined the school corridors, rays of morning light bleeding into the night sky. You had barely taken a few steps down the main hallway of your middle school, yet Baji had already lost count of the number of times you had to turn down various shitstains that dared to approach you.

"I appreciate the thought Tsuta-kun, but I'll have to turn down your offer." You smiled, your eyes soft and kind even as you patiently turned down another schoolmate, one hand pushing the offered chocolates back towards your gifter. The respectful option was, of course, using both hands to reject the honestly gorgeous gift, but your other hand was busy - fingers intertwined tightly with Kazutora's behind your back, a precaution that you had deemed necessary given the death glares you could feel radiating without even turning around to look.

Hooking your arm with your other apparent bodyguard, you tossed one last gentle smile at your now dejected looking schoolmate, one smile too many in Baji's opinion, before tugging your two friends along down the corridor, trying your best to ignore what you knew was hateful glances shot backwards at everyone and anyone that dared turned their gaze your way.

The beams of light that twinkled into and hurt your eyes through the outside foliage as you all but dragged your friends into your homeroom only seemed to confirm the sinking feeling in your gut. This was going to be a long day.

Your teachers had barely questioned, or barely dared to question, the extra students that had pulled chairs up to your table - busy themselves with scribbling large neat words onto dusty blackboards instead. Most likely that had to be the reputation your friends had built themselves at your school over the past two years or so despite not even being students themselves; even your teachers could recognise them by face, and were reluctant to cross them. What had started as just Baji and Kazutora in the morning had somehow grew into all six of your friends, making seating at your small single-person table extremely tight.

Class had been all but dead silent today, with only the sound of scratching chalk, and then the sound of breathing directly in your ear after Mikey had arrived, breaking the seeming tension in the air; Mikey choosing to seat himself directly in your lap, all but draped over your shoulder. But then again, you mused on the unusual quietness, it might have just been the nervousness of having to approach the candy of their eye, whoever the lucky individual may be, and you found that you couldn't really blame them.

Your locker was full. Stuffed to the brim with boxes of every color and size, you didn't need to turn around to know what kind of look the six boys that had tailed you all the way through the corridors, all in some way attached to your limbs or clothings, were sporting.

At least out here, there was the usual hustle and bustle of the lunch crowd flowing towards the cafeteria, combined with the occasional calls of 'Happy Valentine's Day!' and the rustle of boxes being exchanged. Letting out a sigh while running one hand through your hair, you had to admit you were stumped. What to do now?

If you had to be honest with yourself, the attention that you started receiving from both male and female students seemingly out of the blue, beginning in your final year of middle school, made you feel very uncomfortable in your own skin. Model material, was what you heard from a scouter along the central shopping street, before he was all but dragged off by his collar by Mitsuya. Breathtaking, was another that was muttered as you were approached with flowers, before he too, was lifted by the back of his shirt and taken away by Draken. But it was hard to believe what you hear, especially when you stood in front of your full-length mirror at night, pinching your skin and your face when you were alone in the dark.

The eyes that trailed you as you swept past in the streets and school corridors made you feel even more exposed, though the occasional black Toman jacket that your friends seemed more than willing to loan you hanging from your shoulders over your school uniform did somewhat make you feel safer.

"You know what, just leave it." Slamming the locker door back shut, you turned around, and instantly, the furious looks all but evaporated from the faces and eyes of your friends, replaced by almost excited ones when you held up a medium-sized paper bag, one that you had hidden in your locker earlier, before the heaps of gifts had been shoved in through various slots in the door. Chocolates. Even better, it was your handmade chocolates.

"No need to rush." You laughed, as each boy eagerly reached in to grab their box, all the same size yet wrapped in paper with patterns similar to the furoshiki of their bento boxes.

"Can we open them now?" Pah-chin seemed particularly impatient, his hand already tugging on the white ribbon that wrapped around his.

"Of course you can. Go right ahead, Pah-chin." You beamed, happy to see that your late nights and sore fingers were well received, even as you continued running your fingers through Baji's hair, who had buried his face into the crook of your neck after giving a particularly nasty look to yet another student who was trying to approach you with a box in hand.

Yet it seemed that your bag wasn't as empty as previously expected despite all six founders having received their gifts, Draken's sharp eyes quickly spotting one last box, albeit a much smaller one compared to theirs, that still weighed down your paper bag. "Who's the last box for?"

"Fufu." You absentmindedly replied, one hand scratching the back of your head, before your brain finally caught up to your mouth. Shit.

Mistuya lazily raised one eyebrow at you. "Fufu?"

"One of my favourite community cats." Came your hopefully smooth response, the sun seemingly doing you a favour by momentarily shining directly into your friends' eyes, giving you just a mere second to school your face. "The little white and orange tabby."

"Can cats even eat chocolate?"

Chuckling, you retrieved the box, gently unwrapping the ribbon and removing the lid. Peering inside, neat rows of white fishes and hearts lined an equally white piece of baking paper. "White chocolate with tuna. I'm sure it'll be a hit."

The boys wrinkled their noses, their jealousy now all but forgotten as your friends quickly dug into their boxes, the gushing of chocolate in their mouths washing away their previous annoyance.

"Fufu!" Throwing your arms around him from behind, Chifuyu let out an oof as your full weight was placed momentarily on him, his arms coming round behind to catch you and gently lower you back down to the ground. The sun was now much lower on the horizon compared to lunch time, the dark of the night creeping slowly as the light retreated behind the hills in the distance.

"So I heard that I'm a cat now eh?"

The tall walls of the shopping centre blocked most of the bustle from the street, with just a muffle of sounds bleeding into the alleyway where your boyfriend had been waiting. You giggled as he turned to playfully ruffled your hair, gingerly picking out and handing over the last box, a small white one wrapped delicately in pink ribbon. "Better than being a boy around the others right?"

All he could do was smirk in response, accepting the small box from you - he already knew the answer to that, the brutal beatings he witnessed dealt out by Baji towards his supposed rivals all too clear in his mind.

"Careful, there's a piece that's tuna." You mumbled, rubbing your face into his sweater, the weariness from the day's events starting to get to you.

But it seemed your warning went unheeded. "Oh fuck, that's nasty! Tuna?!"

Although all you responded with was a roll of your eyes as he hacked out your gag chocolate into a piece of tissue, the 'I told you so' clear without being uttered, the gentle, adoring smile that reflected in your eyes never left your face. Hooking your arm into his, you leaned your head on his shoulder even as you tugged at him to walk. "Come on kitty cat, let's get out of here before you get caught."

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bbq-hawks-wings · 3 years

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Chapter 316: BBQ is capable of critiquing BNHA and… Oh boy.

Let's start this off properly, Horikoshi's typical quality of writing has been diminishing in recent chapters, but this week it was so different that it didn't even feel like Horikoshi was the one who wrote it.

To be clear, I'm not blaming Horikoshi for the issues I'm about to bring up. The man is criminally overworked, usually doesn't even get the final say in what makes it in the final drafts, and even in his other rough patches he's still produced decent chapters that hold up amongst the grand scheme of things. This feels like something else is going on behind the scenes, and while I have my suspicions on who/what might be the culprit behind it, I choose not to share it at this time because if I name names some people might go off on a crusade, and that's not what I want.

I just want to be clear that I'm not blindly firing off shots in the dark, but despite my frustrations I want to wait to see if this gets resolved down the line, and while I do I can complain about the specific reasons this chapter left such a bitter taste in my mouth.

Buckle up, buttercups, because we got a lot of points to cover.

Where's the Gun?

Not a literal gun, but I mean Chekhov's Gun. It has always been a staple of Horikoshi's writing and the reason so many of his long-standing plot lines have paid off so well.

Chekhov's Gun is a writing principal that if you see a gun on the table in the first act of a play, it will be used in the murder that happens in act 2. Basically, the author should include details that are relevant to the story and not betray the audience by leading them in one direction and at the last minute pull the rug out from underneath them to go in another direction.

Horikoshi has done this to phenomenal success in the past. Just as one example, he dropped hints about Nomu being human experiments early in the series but held off explicitly stating it for a while. He hinted at the loss of Shirakumo in the main narrative and that he was important to Aizawa and Mic as well as approved it for Vigilantes so when it was revealed that Kurogiri was Shirakumo's body, not only did it narratively make sense but it also pulled in Eraserhead and Present Mic's emotional stakes into the battle with the Doctor, and then when Ujiko reveals he was after Aizawa's quirk the whole time it made the payoff for Mic punching him in the face all that much better and brings the weight of his crimes and the impact they have on the victims full circle.

That's 3 different guns paying off in the long run: the Nomu, Shirakumo, and both Mic and Eraserheads' personal arcs past the loss of their childhood friend and that they could finally finish processing their grief and avenge him in full righteous fury instead of chalking it all up to cruel chance.

He has left details, some particularly innocuously, in plot lines like the Touya Todoroki reveal, Hawks' backstory, Shigaraki's blood connection to Nana Shimura, even with Mr. Compress's backstory, and more. When re-read, these details become more obvious and usually leaves us with a greater sense of satisfaction in the plot knowing that twists and turns were not only planned, but built up to and hinted at for us to find so the payoff is that much better and it feels purposeful instead of just shock factor.

None of that happened this chapter.

Lady Nagant has zero business being in this plotline. She was never hinted about before this arc, and her existence does nothing to tell us about the plot moving forward or the world that they're trying to change. Nothing her existence provides actually has any bearing on the universe or tells us anything we don't already know. But that's not how she was presented.

In the beginning we're given a glimpse of her helping Overhaul escape from Tartarus. The focus on her was odd enough to begin with as a new character, and the fact that she didn't look like she fit the profile of someone who belonged in Tartarus was like a flashing neon sign saying, "Pay attention! This new character is important!!!" She then shows up later with Overhaul in hand to attack Deku out of the blue. We get her talking about how she thought Overhaul might be useful and her disillusions with Hero Society. We catch her mannerisms with eery similarity to Hawks only to find out immediately after she was a senior colleague in the HPSC. Never once to my knowledge has Hawks referred to any of his senior colleagues as a "senpai" - not even his fellow heroes - and when he catches her in midair, he uses the words, "Don't die on me, senpai!" as if she's near and dear to his heart.

The entire character arc is set up for her to have known about Hawks and grapple with her desire to help people and her fear of re-creating what she hated, and this also set up Hawks to be the successor who succeeded where she failed and helped bring her to a place where she could be a hero without guilt again. What actually happened?

They're strangers.

They have never actually met before, and while he seems to know a lot about her, she doesn't even seem to have any idea of who he was - at least as far as being another hero under the thumb of the HPSC. So ALLLL that setup, all that gesturing, and all of the potential themes that would be right at home in an arc like this goes completely out the window.

Her story doesn't tell us anything new. The HPSC bad. We knew that. They're not above throwing innocents under the bus to achieve that goal. We knew that. They preyed upon young hopefuls with powerful quirks with the intent to maintain the status quo. We knew that even if the fact that Hawks isn't the only one now makes more questions than answers. We know that these young heroes can never say no under threat of steep, life-shattering consequences. We knew that already.

So what does Lady Nagant even bring to the table?! The entire "you're just a puppet doing what you've been told" angle is a little tired and out of place in this point and time with actual anarchy in the streets (not to mention hypocritical considering she was a blind puppet following orders and offers zero actual solutions that supposedly fall in line with her heroic nature), and it could have been left to any number of other villain characters who could have executed on the theme better - you know, like Shigaraki who's justification this entire time has been, "hero society doesn't make people safe, it just makes them feel safe" from the moment of his inception.

So from that angle she's unnecessary.

Her presence messes with the continuity of the series as well. If Hawks is supposed to explicitly replace her, that would mean that he wasn't just a fluke find on the commission's part and grabbed to mold into their own special superweapon; and that also would mean that her killing of the former president was before he was discovered which should put her at least in her forties. If this isn't the case, and he was meant to simply replace her in a "special agent" case, that still begs the question of how many more gifted children the commission preyed upon and are still out there.

And maybe the worst kicker for me is that something stinks. The way the art in this chapter is presented, if you completely blanked out the speech bubbles, is the same setup I had before - Hawks reaches out to his former mentor and pulls her from the brink of despair with a moving message about why he never gave up hope in being a hero who could actually make a difference.

Again, this is not what we got. He claims he knows her, and it's implied to have been a deep, personal character witness; but at best he only knows about her from secondhand sources. Even his reasoning as to how he never lost hope doesn't vibe with his character.

We have gotten so many cool one-liners for Hawks, but there has always been a consistent tone and imagery with them.

"Those who can fly, should."

"I don't belong in a cage."

"I'm free of my shackles."

"Can I be a shining light, just like him?"

What we got was, "I'm an optimist to a fault" which was the wording the official release went with and was by far the best iteration I have seen, but even this falls short of being truly in character for him and answering her question properly.

@mikeana made an edit of the titular panels for us Hawks stans this week with dialogue we and a few other friends felt was more fitting not only with the imagery of the chapter itself but internally consistent with the specific expressions Hawks uses in his heartfelt, personal dialogue. I just tweaked it a little bit more to fit what I was going for in our original conversation.

Which brings me to another concern.

2. What's the point?

There was no use for Nagant in the series as she's been presented so far. But more than that, Hawks has no business in this fight to begin with. He literally did nothing to earn this emotional moment, and this should have been Deku's moment.

We were teased in an interview with Horikoshi that Hawks was going to get a special moment as an important end-game character as a "shining light" of hope for others to follow as well as promises for Ochako to have another moment in the spotlight to make a difference.

If this was Hawks' shining light moment, it wasn't necessary, and it does nothing to move the plot forward or develop characters in any true or believable way. It just happened because plot. This should have been Deku's victory through and through, and even he is the reason BOTH Hawks and Nagant made it out alive instead of painting the street below them.

Deku's victory was stolen from him, too. It sours the other promises made to us about other characters moving forward, as well, if this really was Hawks' "Shining Light" moment.

By the way, did you forget about Overhaul? Me too!!! What was the point of getting our hopes up about reintroducing this beloved character with the implications this was a major arc setup to have him scream about pops and then get detained with no clues about what's going to happen to him besides, "Say you're sorry to Eri, and you get to see pops"?!

All this posturing and clumsy narrative flailing only actually succeeded in getting Deku in front of AFO again for plot when we already know Mr. Potato Head could summon, show himself to, or find Deku at any time he wanted. But instead we get this time skip with a bunch of heroes completely mended walking into a big, spooky mansion for AFO to evil monologue at Deku for… *counts*

FOUR PAGES!!!

Only to then give him the "I want YOU!" point over a pre-recorded message and the final nail in the coffin to me that something is off.

3. Ex-pu-LOOOO-SHUN!

It's become almost a game among friends to count how many explosions have happened since the end of the war arc - and specifically fake-out explosions. In the end of 311 we get All Might's car attacked via explosion and Deku cornered by Nagant only for All Might to be fine in the next chapter. In 315 Lady Nagant herself explodes in a blaze of glory to once again not be dead.

Gee! I wOnDeR if aLl the heroes were AcTuAlLy cornered and KiLlEd in that explosion in the mansion!

None of us do. They're fine. We're going to see it first thing next week. The shock has worn off, and it's repetitive and annoying at this point. There is no cliffhanger despite how the framing might try to tell you otherwise.

It's BAD WRITING.

The writing has been moving far too quickly and clumsily with no explanation in sight, and even character interactions are being cut short to the point of them being meaningless and empty.

This doesn't even feel like Horikoshi's bad writing. It feels like someone else is trying to call the shots and rushing him through these final bits of the series, and he's run out of things he's previously set up for months and months to reappear so someone is trying to get Dabi-reveal levels of attention with arcs and storylines that don't have the build-up to result in a satisfactory payoff.

4. At least it can get better... I hope.

Maybe those who share my suspicions or know what particular suspicions I have are with me in believing that this is a temporary disappointment and we haven't seen the last of the writing that's captivated me for years. I don't blame Horikoshi for these glaring faults that all came to a head in this chapter.

It CAN get better later, and I think it WILL- we just probably are going to have to wait for it. Until then, I'm going to enjoy the Hawks panels we got, maybe edit the last few chapters to be more in line with something more like the BNHA I know in a "fix it fic" fashion so I don't groan in anticipation of how long it might take us to get there.

See you all next week, hopefully on a much brighter note.

#she speaks #chapter review #bnha 316 #bnha chapter 316 #bnha manga spoilers

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deepseavibez · 3 years

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Blindspot || KTH

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-> Picture Source - Pinterest

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Blindspot [Taehyung x Reader]

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Genre - Best Friend; Fear of the Future; Nighttime Memories; Mixed Feelings;

Summary - She believed in more. In better. In bigger. That life was out there waiting to be grabbed with both hands. He's made it his sole purpose to remind her that simple moments were beautiful and meant to be enjoyed... and maybe, she would realize he was one of them.

Warning - (Slight) Angst; Anxiety; Unsure feelings; Fear of the Future; Fluff; Comfort;

Word Count - 4.7k

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🎶 - I'm Fine - BTS

TAE

‘Tae.’

‘Y/n?’ He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the time, ‘it’s 3am babe.’

‘... I'm sorry for waking you. Sorry. Go back to sleep, it's okay.’

‘Hey, no, no, I'm awake.’ Sitting up, he switched the phone to his other hand and rubbed at his eyes, ‘What's going on.’

‘It’s not important, I swear,’ he could hear her trying to mask her shakiness over the phone. ‘You can go back to sleep.’

He wouldn’t call her out on lying. He knew better than anyone when y/n was in a bad way. Once he asked her, specifically him, what was wrong, she would crumble and he wasn’t there to catch her right now. ‘Y/n. Come on, talk to me.’

‘I can't sleep.’

‘Yeah, no shit,’ he yawned back.

‘I'm so sorry for waking you.’ He could hear the trepidation in her voice.

‘You know better than to apologize for something like that, ‘ he chastised. ‘Babe, tell me about it. Was it a bad dream? Something keeping you up?’

----------

Y/N

You could hear shuffling over the phone as you searched for an answer. It was hard to put certain emotions into words. You only knew you needed to phone Tae, regretting it too late, when he actually answered. ‘I'm not sure,’ you started awkwardly, ‘I guess. I just don't know where I'm going.’

‘Do you plan on leaving me anytime soon?’ Already pulling your leg, he got you to roll your eyes.

‘No, of course not. I just mean, like, metaphorically.’

Things were a bit...confusing right now.

It had been a long time since you last had to deal with emotions this strong. The voices, getting harder to ignore. You had enough outside negativity to deal with, like family and some friends, all having this certain expectation from you.

It was new for you to rebel, to be who you wanted to be and feel how you wanted to feel without consequences. Choosing a life you solely strived toward, negating the tiny voice in your head saying you were wasting time and you were running out of time and you were not enough.

‘I don't know what I want to do, Tae!’ You burst out, the build up too long, the burden too heavy. ‘I don't have plans. I have a great job, I do. But I don't want to be a PA for the rest of my life and I don't know where to start, where to look, how to choose what I want to do.

I don’t have it figured out, it hasn’t fallen onto my lap, and when I look, I feel like I’m going to waste even more time looking.’

‘Y/n, you know you have a lot more figured out than you give yourself credit for.’ The huskiness of his sleep-leaden voice, comforted you. ‘You have money, a routine stable job, you've worked you way through university and graduated with honors.’ Taehyung did it without effort and he knew you would hear his gruff tone above all others, in a crowd, in a panic, as a voice of reason.

‘I know, and I keep trying to remind myself of that, but it’s just become unbearable. I am running out of time.’ Struggling to remain composed you spoke into the phone as if he was right here, ‘What if I'm still here in ten years, Tae? What if I don't ever figure out my purpose? What if I'm meant to just work and then die? I haven't lived! I haven’t seen the world. I’ve made everyone proud and now I’m the black sheep. I prefer it, It's just-,’

The sound of keys jangling cut you off.

‘Tae,’ you asked tentatively, confusion evident.

‘Hmm.’

‘What are you doing?’ You asked when he provided no further explanation.

‘Are you in pj's right now?’

‘Uh,’ you looked down at your white vest and underwear, just to make sure, ‘yeah, why?’

‘Miss y/n, I didn't know you slept in the nude.’

The protests left you immediately at his teasing, slithering heat under your skin at the very notion. ‘Tae! I am not sleeping in the nude, I have underwear on.’

‘Uh huh, what color are they?’ Your cheeks flamed in embarrassment. You could imagine his smirk, that dumb cocky, arrogant smirk.

He laughed, the sound gruff, infuriating you more, and causing you to giggle back. Because you were the butt of the joke, and you liked his laugh too much. Trying to be mad at him, even when play-fighting or harmless bantering, Taehyung, not a chance.

‘Listen,’ a seriousness settling between you, ‘get dressed, just sweatpants, and a shirt.’

‘Wait, what, why,’

‘Baby, listen for once. Just get dressed and give me five minutes.’

You looked at the blank screen, stunned. Your brain stuck at the word baby, and the effect it had. Your insides were mush, anxiety mollified, despite not knowing what he was about to do next.

‘Babe’, you knew, ‘babe’, you understood, that was normal, routine, best friend. But Baby?

You mulled over it as you discarded your vest, and threw on a loose Celine shirt. Pulling on your black sweats, a pair of socks and air force ones because who knows what this boy was up to, you stopped. You sniffed, once, twice, yep, that was Taehyung’s body wash, but what - oh, you tugged the loose collar toward your nose, yep, this was Tae’s shirt.

You composed yourself, almost deadpan at the small realization. When had he even stripped in your room and why weren’t you there.

Wrapping your messy hair into a bun, you restrained your mind from wandering further.

Your phone beeped from the bed and the screen lit up, a message popping up. ‘Look out your window.’

Peeping out you saw his black Jeep in your driveway. He popped his head out of the driver’s side window and did a two finger salute.

Shaking your head with a smile, you grabbed your phone and made your way downstairs through the house and out the front door.

‘What are you doing here,’ you asked as soon as he came into view. He looked good, white tee, black sweatpants, you matched, except for his leather jacket and red bandana.

He opened the passenger door on your side and leaned back, giving you a once over. His lips twitched as he rested his eyes on the shirt you wore. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wanted you in his shirt. You raised your eyebrow playfully, refusing to give life to something like butterflies and heart-eyes when your best friend stood in front of you. Life was complicated enough.

‘You needed me to show up.’ He said it a matter-of-factly, but you knew he wanted to be there for you and you couldn’t, not feel grateful, and a little warm, that he would get into his car drive to you, all because you needed him to.

Not waiting for you to reply, he threw a jersey at you. ‘Its cold,’ his tone left no room for protest and he cocked his head toward the jeep, a sign to get in.

You wrapped it around you silently, not moving, not yet.

‘Well,’ his thumb curled around the top of the steering wheel as the rest of his fingers straightened out, his freehand rising to follow his question, ’Come on, get in.’

‘Where are we going?’ You would have gotten in, you would probably end up wherever he was going to take you anyway, but where was the fun in doing everything obediently. Even puppies had wild streaks.

He raised his eyebrow this time, a smirk teasing his cheek, 'You're brave every night, y/n. But not tonight, not while you're with me, come, trust me, wherever we go I'll keep you safe.'

You turned to close and lock the front door, breathing out slowly, as slow and low as you could, doing your best to work on the constriction around your heart; his words too wiry, too strong, too genuine to forget, too deep to ignore. It made you so... agreeable.

Getting into the Jeep, you felt different as you sat here now, in a seat you had been in too many times to count. It was probably the time and the circumstances. Yeah, some shifts were just because of the time, and the air and because it was silent and the dead of night.

You said nothing more, even though a few minutes earlier you spoke into the phone like you would explode if you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, you would be alone in your head, if you weren’t able to make him understand.

You jumped slightly, as you felt his hand close over yours, and pull it toward him to brush his lips along your knuckles. It was an absent action, maybe, because he stared straight ahead, didn’t spare a glance at you as you stared at the side of his head, making it look like he wasn’t even aware he was doing what he was doing.

Swallowing against the pounding of your heart, you chalked this up too. Night time was vulnerable, everyone was just a little more sensitive, you didn’t have to make it more than it needed to be.

Looking out the window you noted the lights and dark windows, empty parks and streets, doing your best to ignore the heat against your hand, the breath against your knuckles, lips not very far away, that were capable of a lot more.

With some effort, you faded out the intensity of his actions, and as your eyes adjusted you saw familiar figures, and buildings you had driven past numerous times. You knew where you were going.

He pulled up in the parking lot of his safe haven. In retrospect, your safe place should be entirely different, but you were safe with Tae, that said, his peace was where you found yours.

Jumping out of the Jeep, you noted how dark and looming the two story building looked. A huge sign reading 'Blindspot' the only posh part about this place, black metal roller doors, spray painted names across the walls, some of the neon colors standing luminescent against the moonless night.

One would think it was graffiti, but the community knew better, the ones that came and went, some that stopped and never left, knew having your name on the wall was a privilege.

He jumped out too, after grabbing something from the back. Carrying it toward you, you noted his knapsack, and a box of some sort.

Handing it over to you to hold, you took hold of them silently, as he pulled out the keys to open the locks and deadbolt.

You watched him, his actions purposeful but he was at home, knowing which way the locks turned, the catch on the bolt needing to be kicked out a certain way before opening fully; he'd done this a thousand times before.

Lifting up the shutters, the noise too loud for the silent night, he opened the door and guided you in, making you all too aware of his palm in the small of your back. Taking the stuff from your hand and throwing it onto the edge of the ring and he lifted up to close the shutters behind you.

You took notice of the extra shirt that falls out of the pile on the ring, one of your favorites of his actually, grey with black spots, sort of like a giant cookies and cream oreo mix.

The empty gym in front of you was a contrast to the busy days it had. There was a weight section, the bags lined up against the far wall hanging still, having no impact thrown at it to sway the dead weight, and the machines had their own floor upstairs, treadmills overlooking the balustrades to the floor below, by the ring where you stood.

The pool area, directly below you, in the basements where the changing rooms and showers could be found.

It looked small on the outside, but inside there were stories to be told, motivation, encouragement, brotherhood, friendships solidified in stone and a fair share of violent memories with broken bones, broken bonds and broken hearts.

Walls were packed with quotes, anatomy teachings and pictures, schedules, a dedicated to growing trophy case with medals and newspaper clippings, and pictures of staff, members, and the boss, with his best friend.

What Tae didn't continue, was the stereotype of the grunge masculine look that came with gyms. Outside may be black as night, but inside there was color everywhere - a world within.

The punching bags were each a different shade, green, red, yellow and blue. The ring bottom was black, neon orange ropes running along the sides in three consecutive lines, and your personal favorite, a giant pride flag hung on a hook outside his office door.

Toxic masculinity wasn't allowed in Taehyung's gym. You could be yourself, make your own lifestyle choices and still be a good fighter or just work-out. He took it upon himself to punch the teeth out of anyone that thought otherwise. This was what he'd always wanted to do and he made it more than just a place to get healthy.

There were four hours, two for the morning, two for the afternoon, catered only to women. Tae understood that men will be men, no matter how much you tried to change it. And comfort mattered.

Working out and exercising, as much as it seemed, like a chore, it could be enjoyable. It could be a social setting, helping people to open up, and cope, providing the best way for them to be themselves.

You helped him find a premises, helped him choose color schemes, and sat in on interviews. For legal purposes you were an advisor and owned a small share percentage. You didn't want it, but Tae insisted, you were especially grateful when the gym grew into more than you both had expected it to become.

'Y/n,' he waved his hand in front of your face, the action snapping you out of your thoughts.

'Huh, sorry, did you say something?'

He smiled comfortingly, 'Take the jacket off and your shoes.'

Scrunching your eyebrows, you finally asked, 'Tae, what are we doing here?'

'We are,' he started explaining as he ripped open a box in his hand, 'doing something I feel you need.'

Looking at you pointedly, he motioned his eyes to the jacket.

Shucking it off, you took off your shoes and redid your bun for good measure.

'It's strange isn't it,' you voiced out loud. He perked up at your food for thought, fingers fiddling with white tape. 'It's strange, that I know every corner of this place, but I haven't ever put a pair of gloves on.'

He raised his hand absently, a student raising his hand to give an answer, his gaze focused on yours as he did. 'That's because you've never had the need to, I'm here to protect you.'

Turning away, you caught yourself, before you let your heart show in your eyes. You've known Tae for so long, been his best friend for years, why now, why this feeling, this tightness in your chest.

You played it off, and walked over to him, socked feet padding against the wooden floor boards.

Taehyung clicking his tongue startled you out of your effort to feel normal; you found him staring at your socks.

'Y/n, I've told the guys this numerous times, you can't spar in the boxing section with socks. It's a slipping hazard.' No trace of the out of the blue romantic words, he bent down easily removing them from your feet one after the other.

It would be weird, if you weren't already so used to his skinship, his cuddling when he slept over, his hand straying over your shoulder on the couch, or brushing against your waist when he passed you. Yet, his thumb, on your ankle, his hand as he circled and held it, even for just the moment that he laid your foot down after taking off the sock, you felt… taken.

You wanted to snort, the wording completely off, I mean, he had a right over you, always had but-

He came into focus, looking up at you from where he sat, and asked lightly,' Do you wash these.'

Your mouth dropped open, as you watched him hold your purple socks in between two fingers, like it would bite him, or the smell would.

Your knee nudged at the side of his face playfully as you reached to pull him up. He took your socks, holding them properly now and put them in his bag, picking up the white tape he was fidgeting with earlier.

'So, will I be sparring with you today?' You were excited now. You had watched people vent and let themselves be free as they learned technique, let themselves be violent without consequences, the satisfaction on their faces after their sessions.

When he finally reaches you again he finds the catch and opens it out. White athletic tape, used to make arms and wrists stiffer, and to provide better grip, even with sweat and slick.

'No, not today. Let's focus on getting you worked up and tired. If you enjoy it, I'll gladly let you go toe to toe with me.' His eyes held a challenge, an underlying meaning evident.

Offering your hands up freely, he taped your wrists and fingers, you've seen him do it many times, just never on your wrists. Experimentally you shook out your fingers and bent and scrunched your wrist to allow for the right amount of tightness.

'Cocky, aren't you, Mr. Kim,' you side-eyed him.

He leaned into you, his breath teasing yours, 'I am the Coach here, y/n.' You blinked at the nervous fluttering in your chest, his intimidation, usually not directed so closely to you, doing something you couldn't explain, couldn't quite grasp.

Somehow, you should be scared, but it was, hot.

Leaning into him, breath for breath, you matched up, 'Then teach me.'

A slow smile broke out over his lips, playful Tae was back, it let you navigate things easier, you knew what to expect.

'So, I'm boxing the bag,' you deduced. 'I don't see why I need to tire myself out. I don't know how to do this.'

His palms closed over your cheeks, puffing your face up, emphasizing your pout. 'You are frustrated. You can't do anything about any of your emotions tomorrow, y/n. You have to be patient. You have to remind yourself it's a day at a time that gets you to your future. It will always be about patience.'

'Unfortunately, patience is overrated at something to 4am,’ you complained as he let go of your face and bent down to produce a new set of gloves from under the ring. Opening the zip of the bag, he pushed one toward you.

Shaking his head at your antics, not even phased, he strapped the gloves to both your hands and walked toward a bag. 'Come on, try it.'

'Color?'

'The yellow one.' He made to stand behind the bag you chose, and held either side of it, knees bent slightly in a defensive stance.

Feeling slightly out of place, and awkward, you huffed and punched the bag just to humor him.

You stared at it. The fucking thing didn't even move.

He burst out laughing at the comical look on your face.

'Okay, wait no,' he composed himself and came around you. His breath fanned your neck, giving you goosebumps, as he held your wrists and showed you how to punch. 'So straighten your elbow, like this, and pull it back in and see how the gloves are shaped, your forefingers curl above your thumb, so inside your glove your thumb shouldn't be in the fist.'

Nodding as you took in the new information, you did your best not to get distracted as he continued, all too comfortable in his element.

'When your wrist hits the bag don't curl it, let it face the impact head on. See, this is how you do it, so you don't break your wrist.' He made you punch the bag and showed you where your wrist was bending and how to keep it tight.

'Alright, baby,' that word, that goddamn word, 'you good to try again?'

Closing your eyes and swallowing hard, you nodded in answer and shook your head out of the Tae trance.

'Start with a simple combo this time, Jab, Jab, Uppercut, Hook.' You knew the names and their directions. Jab was straight forward, twice fast on the submissive hand as a set-up, the uppercut from downward into the abdomen or chin, depending, and the hook, from the dominant hand rounding off on the face.

'Think of it all y/n,' he encouraged, as he walked to his original position, 'the people, the words, the expectations, the beating up of yourself you do on a daily basis, and just go for it.'

Spreading your legs in a stance, aiming at the bag on his command, you clenched your fists and focused.

'Go'

----

'And breathe.'

Breathing heavily you fell flat to the floor, and stared up at the ceiling.

Sweat was in your eyes and your hair, but despite being in dire need of a shower, you felt oddly at ease. Tiny zings of exertion shot through your body as your lungs begged for air and you heard your blood rushing.

The roof was really pretty you thought, the wood positioned in long blocks to form and hold up the gable, grabbing your attention for the first time ever.

You blinked as Tae's face came into view, his hands resting on his knees.

He smirked cutely as he brushed your sweat slicked hair out of your eyes and off your face before reaching down to pick you up off the floor.

Handing you a water bottle, you let him manhandle you as he lifted your form to sit on the edge of the ring, launching himself up to sit next to, a second later.

'How do you feel?' He was proud of himself no doubt, after all, his plan did succeed.

You made a face at him, anyway.

'Hey,' he put both his hands up in mock surrender. 'It worked, didn't it.'

You cut him some slack, this time. 'Yeah, I feel icky, but definitely less worked up.'

---------

🎶 - Black Swan - BTS

TAE

Taking a swig of the water you had opened in your hand, he looks at the top of your head as he closes it and puts it away.

'Hey.'

She looks up at him, eyes hooded in exhaustion.

He smiles at her. Despite how much he loved her spitfire, she's adorable when she's not talking back.

He knew of the thoughts that crawled up her spine on a daily basis. He knew she had no plan, and it made her hyper that she didn't have one, but she couldn't make one because, what if she chose wrong.

He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to tell her that she could be whatever she wanted to be, and he would fly her across the ocean if she really wanted it; that she didn't need to worry about life so much because he would always take care of her.

'You're too sad.'

She scrunched her eyebrows at him.

'You have the whole weight of the world on your shoulders and you can't do anything about it.' He chose his next words carefully. 'I wish you could take a breather, and let a thought be a thought instead of picking it apart.'

He held up his hand to her when she made to protest.

'You know, things may not feel okay right now, with work, or at home, and in your head. But I've never seen someone adapt like you have. You bounce back, despite how much grit it takes.'

He took the gloves off her hand and carefully unwinded the tape on her fingers.

'I don't have answers y/n. But I do know you have me for a long time and I'm going to be here as you do your thing.'

Placing pressure on each finger he massaged the tightness out of it and flexed it for her.

'I don't know where you're supposed to go, if you were meant to leave and give me a round-the-world heartbreak, I'm not sure who you're supposed to be, I don't even know if you have a higher purpose, it wouldn't surprise me if you did, but you, y/n,' he heaved a sigh as he faced her, his gaze meeting hers, his next words the most important thing she'd need to remember,' you're a good you.'

As he met her eyes, her breath hitched. He heard it. He could see the flush in her face. He knew he was being honest. He knew he meant every word.

A half smile, a heavy acceptance, hands that were so easy to hold, eyes that were never anything but honest, a bond that all but forced a person to keep swimming. That was Taehyung to y/n. And that was y/n to Taehyung.

'You're a really, good you,' he reinforced. 'Right now, it works. I have a feeling it will work for a very long time.'

'I'm scared.' He could hear it in her voice. He heard it back when she was in her room too.

'Nothing is really set in stone, babe. And even though it does feel like you're running out of time, it's something you can't help. It's not what you want to hear but it's true.'

'How do I stop being sad?'

She was deflecting. But he had said it before, it wouldn't be gone tomorrow. Her anxiety and her fears, they will probably never go away.

She had the right way to go about it though. You get through it. Somehow. Some days it's a good cry, some days it's with a punching bag, and some days, it was with a best friend.

'See, now that's why you have me.' He answered confidently, as he put his chest out, his need to have her be okay, her smile, her laugh, his only intentions, his favorite thing these days.

'Oh really, you, why, because you're a clown.'

He feigned offense at the statement. 'Excuse me, I am not a clown, ask anyone that comes in for the 5am rush.'

She looked up at the clock in shock, it was really going half-four. She turned back to him sadly, 'I kept you up all night.'

'It was a fun night,' he replied, the teasing of many other ways to keep him up on the tip of this tongue, deciding against it, he looked away from her. 'You needed me, no amount of sleep is worth that.'

He didn't explain himself, he really didn't mind the lack of sleep. He could easily catch a nap in his office, or head home after half a day. But this, this moment with his best friend, that he wanted to be more, he knew he wouldn't choose to be anywhere else. He knew he'd do it over again too.

Pushing off the ring he grabbed the knapsack and handed her his shirt. 'Change out of that shirt, and use this one, you'll catch a cold, because of the sweat. And let's get you home, you need a hot shower, and sleep. I'll drop by for dinner after work too.'

Finally turning to her, he found she hadn't moved an inch, unshed tears in her eyes. Before he knew what he was doing, he pulled her toward him, sweat and all, and held her in his arms. 'You're first y/n, you'll always be first.'

A tender kiss on her head, his words rendering her speechless, and he knew uncharted waters were on the horizon.

This night, things that he'd said, the ways in which she responded, it was going to shift things for them.

But silence was comfortable for them. And she drank his share of coffee while he ate her share of pineapple, because he couldn't stand coffee and she hated pineapple. And he could hold her in his arms and she'd use his shirt while they slept.

It would start small, but he'd show her, the future was bright, she was deserving of more than she understood, she would be protected from her family and expectations and she would learn to remember, purpose or no purpose she wasn't alone, she never would be again.

#kim taehyung x you #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung #taehyung au #taehyung fic #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts fics #bts aus #bts oneshot

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jieanette · 2 years

Text

A vent, ignore this if you want to

I need to get this off my chest because it's been in the back of my mind for a while, since last year, actually.

I don't like T@tsuj*n.

It's not because I don't think they are a good couple, or that I'm trying to be 'edgy' or anything. Hell, I wasn't even harrassed for shipping Tatsuya with other people. As far as I know, people here are more than encouraging.

I don't like it because of the constant guilt it gave me.

While it's not to the extent of, 'Every picture of it I feel bad.' Of course, I can look at a couple of fanart and go on with my day like normal. The problem is that if I were to CONSTANTLY see it, I would spiral down to self-guilt. This lead me to block out the words 't@tsuj*n' on Tumblr to prevent myself from going through that again. And it has been working well for me.

I'm going to be honest, when I made this account/ship tatsunao, I haven't played a single Persona game. It wasn't until December where I actually play Persona 2: Innocent Sin. Hence the liveblogging of it. The only other knowledge I have is the Persona 1 manga, even then, I probably haven't even read it when I made this account. I say this because I suspect that this is probably a contributing factor to my guilt, that I implusively started shipping not knowing deeply about the characters and going off from summaries and reviews from other people. I knew prior to playing it, that Jun is one of the canon love interests for Tatsuya, and is a generally preferred one. So my guilt wasn't because I didn't know, it's just... I always ignored this.

And the guilt didn't end when I play the game.

Honestly when I play Persona 2, it feels like the game just wants me to choose T@tsuj*n, hammering in the fact that how close Tatsuya and Jun really was in the game, and the whole Apollo and Hermes gift thing, and especially the lighter and watch exchange just didn't help either.

The fandom too, also didn't help, because of how many people really like T@tsuj*n (which is again, not a bad ship, it's a good one, but its not my thing) makes me feel so pressured, like if I don't ship it I won't be able to fit in, ya know? Like, I'm being insane, why don't you ship it, the canon content is right in front you, why are you choosing to ignore it? Just why?

No one says this to me directly, but it feels that way to me whenever I go on Twitter, Tumblr (before the block), and IG.

There is one incident that also contributing this. On Twitter, I once made a vent how Tatsunao has potential to be a good ship. Later on, I saw a twitter made by someone who was like, 'Shut up, Naoya belongs to Brown, Tatsuya has Jun and whatever Yu and Minato has..." (I still remember some of the words very well because of how it stung me badly). And I found out that it was a bot, so I chalked it up to coincidence. Then... someone mentioned Tatsunao and the bot said the same thing again... and it's hours after the twitter. So I blocked it following an advice from a friend. It's not a main factor, and hell, it's a bot, ofc it didn't happened again. It's just... a weirdly aligned coincidence. And it didn't lessen the sting.

It slowly leans on to 'hate' but l don't hate it too much, again, it's not like I'll evaporate if I see Jun looking Tatsuya in the eye, just would not like it very much if I see an entire page of t@tsuj*n.

It got better after I blocked both the words and the tags on Tumblr, and it feels more freeing without that pressure. So don't worry about me about the guilt now. It comes every once in a while, but it fades away quickly. I'm just writing this because I just have this on my mind.

If you're a t@tsuj*n fan, please, don't read this as an attack on you, or feel guilty in anyway shape or form. Just ship what you ship, don't be held back because of some person on the internet. I don't want to put someone through the same guilt trip I have. Trust me.

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mystic-cabbage-cave-goblin · 2 years

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TW: mention of s assault, abuse, and mental health

Sometimes I wonder how fuzzy my memory really is. I forget things, people, events, anything really, even though they should be clear as day to me. Case in point, I remembered just now how years ago during my last few years of college, some friends asked me if I was cool with being at a party with a certain Alex. I looked to them, puzzled.

To describe this specific friend group, they were all much older than I was (including Alex). I had met them through my abusive ex when I was 17 and they were in their mid to late 20s. They, of course, knew nothing about the abuse until years after. They loved to smoke weed, cook and play video games and magic the gathering. Typical guy stuff, but I loved them, they were protective of me (even told me to run away from my bf even if they were his friends lol-red flag number 1). I even became quite proficient at Marvel vs Capcom 4, learning how to play on a game pad thay they had smuggled weed from another country in once.

Anyway, going back to the story, they had pulled me aside and asked if I was okay seeing Alex at the party. I asked why. Their answer shocked me and still disturbs me to this day. Not because of what happened per se, far worse things have been done to me in my life, but because I had completely forgotten it happened in the first place.

Apparently, it was at another party that I was invited to after one of the many tumultuous breakups with my abusive ex. I was around 18 at the time (legal drinking age in my country) They invited me, took care of me, fed me, and handed me the alcohol I needed to numb my brain. I recall bits and pieces of that night, I don't recall being too drunk though, getting shit faced wasn't something I'd do around them.

I'm a natural social butterfly, so I flit from one group to another, eventually landing on the couch with an MMA enthusiast named Alex. We got into the topic of important self-defense techniques women should know, and he even demonstrated some of them for me and on me. All's well and good and I actually remember that bit. The next part I don't remember was him apparently kissing me. I have no idea if I struggled or if he stole a kiss or what kind of kiss it was. I don't know how it happened and who stopped it. I honestly don't remember. There aren't many more details from that night either that I can recall either, but I'm certain I didn't go home with him.

Normally, I'd chalk it up to a friend confusing me for someone else, but in this case, years after the fact, more than one person from that friend group told me about it and reminded me. So yeah. That's it, something I'd forgotten, maybe buried, in the deep recesses of my mind. I don't know. It doesn't make sense to me because honestly, there are memories I wish my brain would bury.

Little things like this make me miss how sharp my memory used to be. I took pride in it, but eventually my brain got fried. Maybe it was meds, or alcohol, or sleep deprivation, depression maybe, or trauma. I really don't know. All I know is that it's not the same as when I was young, and if I could pick and choose memories to lock away forever, I definitely have a few candidates, unfortunately front of mind.

#confession #memory #memory loss #mental health #true story

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fakingitfanfiction · 7 years

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Her Latest Flame Chapter 14: Managing

Previous Chapters

It doesn’t help. It doesn’t help at all.

That ‘it’ is an ice pack and no, it doesn’t do much of anything, not for the pain or the swelling you can already feel starting in your cheek and around your eye, or for the regret and all the burning self-recriminations that started long before Sophie drilled you in the face. The bitter and painful cold of that ice, pressed tightly against your eye, doesn’t do much of anything for any of that.

The feel of Reagan’s hand, holding it there? Well… that does a lot. More than it should, more than you’d like.

And now that’s just another of your fucking lies and you know it even before you think it. You’d like - love - that touch to do even more, to make you feel more. You could quite happily spend hours or days or, you know, the rest of your life, letting that touch make you feel everything.

You’re pretty sure (past pretty) (more like totally, completely, infinitely sure) that, no matter what happens here today, no matter how many more punches you take, or what comes after, that no matter how many other touches there may be from other people in all the time still to come, hers is the touch you will always remember, the one you will always compare every other one to.

And they will all come up lacking. Sorely.

Which is, you know, the problem in a nutshell. Or, you know, in something else, what with your allergy and all and, yes, you’re totally debating what the problem is in, just so you don’t actually have to face it - her - cause she's right there, with one hand holding the ice to your cheek and the other… oh, the other.

That other is slowly and carefully and delicately brushing the hair out of your face, gently tucking it back and away from the ice. That other is treating you more like the victim that you know you most certainly aren’t and not the criminal, the perp - and let’s keep it real and call it (you) what it (you) is (are) - the bitch, that you most certainly are.

The other is just Reagan being Reagan and, until this very moment, that was something you’d never even considered as anything but a good thing.

Chalk that up as one more thing you’ve ruined.

You push yourself up from the chair, the one she sat you in, tucked away in the employee break room in the back of the diner, her hand - the other - dropping uselessly to her side as you clutch the ice pack yourself, wincing as you accidentally press it too hard against your skin, the rough corner of the plastic coating catching your cheek and if Sophie hadn’t managed to draw blood, you’re pretty sure you just did.

Reagan takes a step back, leaning against the wall and even now, even after years apart, you can still read her. The way her arms fold, crossing against her chest, one leg bent at the knee, foot pressed against the wall as if she’s ready to push off, just waiting for the starter’s gun, the signal to run. Again.

OK, that last bit might be a little projection. (Might be?) (Might be?) It was you who was always the runner. Though, in all fairness and yes, now seems like a perfect time to start being fair to you, it’s not like Reagan was just blameless in that.

You ran. But, it wasn’t like she didn't push.

(And no, you’re not the least bit concerned that you might be blaming the victim, here, or, at least, one of them.)

Still, you can read her - read her eyes as they find the floor - read the way her perfect brows knit together and there’s that crinkle between them, the mark of her 'deep thoughts’ and you know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help remembering a time when those deep thoughts were almost always either worries - about Karma and about you and about you and Karma, mostly - or they were musings on what might happen five, ten, or fifteen minutes later, when everyone else was finally gone and it was just you and her and a lot of clothes that would be just as gone, just as fast.

Somehow, you doubt either of those things are going through her mind right now.

And somehow, even after all this, even after Sophie and Sophie’s broken heart and Sophie’s fucking hell of a right hook, you’re still disappointed by that. And that, is the real problem and you may not know much about nuts (take that any way you like it) but you know enough to know there’s no shell in the world big enough for that.

“I probably had that coming,” you say, mostly to break the silence before it chokes you both. “I just never knew she could punch like that.”

Reagan mercifully leaves the 'probably’ part of that alone, choosing to ignore the fact that reality was somewhere north of 'probably’ and closer to 'absolutely’ or 'definitely’ or 'she could have jumped on you and pounded you for an hour and it still might not have been enough’. “Three years of Krav Maga in high school,” she says, without looking up, the criss-cross of her arms tightening against her chest. “She never told you?”

You shake your head, slowly, and even that little bit of movement sends more fresh ripples of pain cascading through your cheek and your jaw and now you’re suddenly overjoyed that you’re in a restaurant that serves nothing but eggs, cause you’re not quite sure if you’re going to enjoy chewing again any time soon.

Reagan nods. “She had a crush on the woman who taught the class,” she says. There’s just a hint of a smile there, you can see it, and even that tiniest of hints, very nearly does to your heart what Sophie’s fist did to your face. That was your smile, once upon a lifetime ago. “And then she ended up hooking up with this whole other girl, one she accidentally punched in the face during a class,” she says, and that’s when those eyes come up, finding yours across the tiny room, and you think you’d give anything to hold them there forever, but you’re almost definitely sure, you’ve lost the right to hope for that. “I don’t think this is gonna work out quite like that.”

You and Sophie making out? Yeah, no. You doubt there’s even going to be any making up, much less hooking up.

The ice pack shifts under your hand and a chill trails down your cheek. “Sophie never said anything to me about…” You trail off, stifling the moment of indignation or jealousy or whatever the fuck it is you’re feeling about Sophie sharing something with Reagan and not with you. After all, it’s pretty damn clear who the real Khaleesi of Never Mention is in this equation. “You two must have talked a lot,” you mumble, shifting the ice slightly, wincing again as the cold finds yet another spot to burn.

Reagan’s voice is as soft as you’ve ever heard as she damn near whispers “All last night” and the silence that follows hangs heavy and loaded, the 'after she found out’ left unspoken but sure as fuck not unthought.

All last night. All last night… well… all last night, you were wallowing in your misery again and Reagan was doing the work, all the heavy lifting, picking up the pieces of not just one, but two relationships you’d taken a damn flamethrower to.

Yeah, you so had that punch coming. And then some.

Reagan watches as you fidget with the ice for another moment and then, suddenly, she’s right there,her hand covering yours, and she guides you in steering the cold, her other hand catching you by the shoulder even as you start to pull away. “Hold still,” she says, or, really, commands (and no, you're not thinking of other times she’s used that tone, not at all, because, even you know that right now your face is the only thing that should be getting wet.) “If you don’t ice this properly now, you’re going to look like you’re smuggling golf balls in your cheeks tomorrow.”

She pauses, waiting, because - much to your surprise - she can still read you and this is an Amy moment, if there ever was one. Come on, golf balls in your cheeks?

That shit writes itself.

But maybe you’re older or wiser (or maybe just massively distracted by the way the fingers of her hand on your shoulder are brushing against the bare skin of your neck) but whatever the reason, you keep your mouth shut.

First time for everything, right? Except, you know, for you not screwing over your best friend with your apparently insatiable appetite for fucking the exact wrong person at the exact wrong time.

Reagan, satisfied that the ice is properly positioned, takes a small step back, but that hand, oh, it doesn’t move.

Or, really, it does, just not back (and away) like the rest of her, but rather down. As in slowly down the length of your arm. It takes all of three, maybe four seconds, but that’s a thousand times longer than it probably should, something far closer to a forever, and you are utterly and completely aware of every single moment. Reagan’s eyes are locked on yours the entire time, your heart a stuttering tick-tock clock in your chest and you swear someone has cast a spell on it, slowing the time down, stretching every moment into lasting an eternity that’s still over far too soon.

God, you are so absolutely screwed.

Reagan’s fingers dance across the border between short sleeve and bare skin, tickling their way past your elbow, down to your forearm and then your hand. She doesn't hold it, and she doesn't take it - and you don't give it, even if every part of you is screaming that you should - but her fingers curl against you, digging into your knuckles, before she finally (far far far too late) pulls her hand away, taking another - bigger - step back.

“Sorry,” she mutters, staring down at her hand as if it somehow betrayed her, as if she doesn’t understand what the hell it was doing.

That one word, that one fucking syllable… it kills you… and all you want to do, all you need to do, is scream at her, that she shouldn’t be sorry, not for that, and not to you.

No.

That’s another one of your lies - this one to just yourself, except your self ain’t buying it any more than anyone else with half a clue would - cause that is so not all you need to do. What you need, what every part of you aches to do, is to reach out and catch that hand and take it, and hold it, and tell her that you know (now) you never should have let go of it, not then, not now, not ever.

Anything else would be a lie.

And maybe, you think, now is the time. Maybe this is the moment when all the lies end and the chips fall where they may, even if every one of them is a little bit of Sophie, a tiny or not so tiny sliver of her heart and, no, you’re not thinking about what kind of friend that makes you, no, not at all, cause if you do…

You can’t.

You just… can’t. Not this time. Not with Reagan and not with this second (or is it third) chance, not with an opportunity to, for once, be utterly and completely honest in every way. That, you know, is what’s always been your downfall, your Achilles’ heel, the thing that did you in and not just with Reagan. With Lauren, at first. With Karma, obviously. With Sabrina, even if in that case, doing you in meant doing her for far longer than you probably should have, given that she wasn’t the one in your heart - another lie you told yourself - and even with Sophie.

You never tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. With you, it’s always been fragments and fractions and asides to the audience (read: Shane or Lauren or whoever was the ear on loan at that particular moment.) Maybe, you think, it’s time to go all in, to place your bet on honesty and coming clean.

Maybe, you think Reagan getting dropped on your doorstep was the universe’s way of giving you a chance and maybe, you think (again) there’s only one way to find out.

“Reagan, I -”

And, maybe, the words die in the air as she turns. Her hand - that same hand - finding the handle for the break room door, tugging it open (and it’s so much more than a tug, too violent, too much force and power and, almost, desperation), her feet crossing the threshold even before it’s swung open and even you can see that, can recognize it for what it is.

Of course you can. Takes one to know one. It’s what you do.

“We should probably get back out there,” she says and yeah, she’s pretending - and doing it well - to have never heard you. “Sophie’s still waiting and waiting…” She hesitates, one foot in and one foot out, but you know that’s just a function of movement, it’s not a metaphor in the slightest.

That foot might still be there, but Reagan’s already gone.

“Waiting just leads to wondering,” you say, incredibly proud of yourself for not choking on the words. “And wondering… well… that just never ends well, does it?”

Reagan’s hand tightens on the door and for a moment - a fucking tick and a fucking tock before the clock breaks - you think maybe she’s changed her mind.

“Nothing ever ends well, Amy,” she says. “Sometimes, all you can do is manage the pain.”

The question comes without thinking. “Is that what we’re doing?”

She shakes her head slowly, that foot finally finding it’s way out the door. “Not very well,” she says. “Not very well, at all.”

And then there’s nothing but her back and the sound of her steps echoing (far too quickly) in the hall and then…

She’s gone.

And the only thing you can think is that this must be what it’s like, to be the one that’s left, rather than the one that's leaving. So, yeah, maybe, you think, you had the right idea in the first place, all those other times, cause it seems so much better to run, than to be run from.

That pain, you might have been able to manage.

#faking it #faking it fanfiction #reamy #oc #update #amy #submission #secretmonkey #secret-monkey #Her Latest Flame

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