#people automatically read it as centering around them I have to assume.

[moonturtlephilosophy]

I'm gonna stop engaging with a bunch of stuff starting next year, including any form of 'discourse' and the last thing I wanna say on this is: these bigots, gatekeepers and transphobes are all fucking stupid. Just remember that whenever one opens their mouth.

And them being hurt doesnt excuse or justify them causing further hurt. Never.

They are not worth your energy. I'm gonna start practicing that now.

I am pretty new to being active on the internet but tumblr did what a lifetime of irl idiots could not: kill that neurodivergent part of me that belived that if I just showed someone the flaws in their thinking and gave them all info they needed, they'd ajust their belive system and grow as a human being.

But it's like most people like this are hydrophobic but instead of repelling water they repell everything they don't wanna hear and doesn't fit into their fixed worldview or simply makes them uncomfortable.

Meanwhile I feel like a tissue, obsorbing everything first and then attempting to sort things out after (nervous system dysregulation goes brr).

Now post so I commit to not engaging in 'discource'.

[nena-la-fresa]

The Dragon and The Wolf |Part 2|

18+ Account | Minors DNI | Do NOT Follow, Like, or Comment | Pls have your age in your bio, if you do not I will automatically block you because I’ll assume you are a minor.

Part 1 | Part 3

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f! Stark Reader

Warning: Arranged Marriage | Smut with Plot | Possessive Behavior | Hate Sex | Male Masturbation | F Oral Receiving

Word Count: 1370

A/N: Aemond is gonna be a little soft cuz I like my fictional psycho men to have a soft spot for their lover. This once also hasn't been proof read yet, I'll also get to this later.

He thought it wouldn’t bother him, but it did. You plagued his thoughts like some sick joke. Everytime he closed his eyes, all he could see was you. Legs spread open with your hands pinned above your head as he pounded into you. Your sweet cries begging for him to wait so that you could compose yourself. Or the way you wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him deeper in and your nails digging into the skin on his back. He had begun to yearn for it, it was an itch he could not scratch. Not even when he would wrap his fist around his cock to relieve the desire he had. 

He had had a taste of you and it would not go away. It was intoxicating to hear you whimper his name, or to have breathed in your scent. Even if he had done it to tease you it had come back to bite him in the ass. Even now it was aggravating to see you leaving his side. As you had ignored him since that day, and throughout the whole ceremony. You avoided looking him in the eye. And now he watched you closely as you made your way around the hall. Flashing a smile to your house, making sure that you were being attentive to your guest. Even as you had decided to sit with them rather than him. 

Were you punishing him? Was that what this was? 

But how could you know what his desires were if he was so closed off. 

He had a hint of jealousy as you spoke to someone, a man. Perhaps a childhood friend from the North, one of the Umbers or the Karstarks. He watched as you laughed with them. As he picked up his drink he watched as your head turned and out of the crowd of people your eyes found his. He maintained eye contact watching as your smile faded but composed yourself when you looked back to the man you spoke with. 

He didn’t understand why it bothered him so much as he watched you accept the hand of the man as he led you to the floor. His blood seething as he saw the two of you dance. 

Alicent watched as her son stood up and made his way over to the center. Confused as she tried to see what her son was heading towards. Even more so when she saw him take your hand away from the Umber boy. She had never seen him act like this, it was different than his usual antics. 

You had felt an almost forced jerk. Turning around stood Aemond, he had looked down at you. “Husband.” 

“Wife.” 

He had averted his eyes from you to look at the Umber boy, “I’d like a dance with my Lady Wife.”

“Yes, of course Prince Aemond.” The Umber boy returned back to his seat in a hurry. 

“Does my Lady wife prefer to dance with Lords rather than her husband?” He could say he was joking but his tone was nowhere near that. 

You stayed silent as you danced around. Aemond grows more upset and squeezes your hand for a response. 

“If you think hurting me is going to get much of a response out of me, think again husband.” 

“Yet you spoke did you not?” 

“You are insufferable.” 

“They only insufferable one is you wife” 

“Me? Please husband. You have been unpleasant since the moment we met.” 

“I have been nothing but pleasant to you.”

“So does that mean you treat people worse than me?”

“You said it yourself. I am a kinslayer. I have killed my own blood. I have burned the riverlands. I would say my behavior to you has been pleasant.” 

You say nothing as you try to separate yourself from him but can not as he holds a tight grip at your waist. 

“Will you leave me alone!” You hissed at him and yanked yourself from him. You once again found yourself walking fast through the corridors. 

All this did not go unnoticed Alicent had watched as the two began to quarrel. She watched as her son went storming out after his new bride. She began to try and distract their guest from the situation in hopes that everyone was too drunk to remember what happened. But to the guest that questions where the newlyweds were she made the excuse that they had already left to get started on their consummation.

“You are my wife. Where do you think you are going without my permission?” Aemond yelled as he got closer to you. 

Before you could respond you felt your wrist being tugged into a room. Aemond pins you to the door, “I have been patient with you for two days. I have let you ignore me. I have let you throw your little temper tantrum. But that is enough.” 

“Temper Tantrum? My anger with you was completely justified. You made me seem like a whore. What if your mother was not the woman she was? What if she had not known what kind of son she had. I would have been sentenced to death for your reckless behavior.” 

Aemond wraps his hand against your throat, “Do you know how much you have tortured me?” He leaned down to place a kiss against your lips. It was aggressive, desperate, as if he needed it to breathe. He pressed his body against yours, but as you tried to push him away you could feel his boner against your thigh. As much as he angered you, you could not help but melt into the kiss. 

He began to kiss down your neck taking in your scent. The scent he longed for. He began to lift up the skirt of your wedding dress as he placed his thigh between your legs. Your cunt just placed on his thigh, it had begun to ache for his touch. Your body had begun to move at will, grinding itself onto his thigh, he groaned and began to unbutton your dress. He had undressed you completely as he found himself kissing down your body. He placed a nipple in his mouth, sucking before moving lower. He had reached your stomach placing small kisses before he got to what he had been longing for. Your cunt, he lapped at it as if it was the most delicious thing in his entire life. As if nothing has ever tasted as sweet as your cunt, as if he had been starving for years. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, to balance yourself you placed one hand on his shoulder and the other hand gripped onto his hair. 

“Aemond please.” 

You place a hand under his chin to signal him to come back up. He cups your face as you begin to remove his clothes. Once they were off he turned you around and bent you over. The sight was better than he imagined. The way your curves looked in the lightly lit room. The way your hair fell against your back. He didn’t want to waste any minute. He aligned himself at your entrance and pushed in. Your walls were tight but they were slick enough to move. Each thrust becomes more desperate and harder. He pulled you back against his chest as he sucked on your neck, harder than he had last time. His other hand reached down to your cunt. 

“Aemond” Your moans were like music to him. 

He turned you around and lifted you up using the wall to help him keep you up. He could feel you coming undone. He could feel you tighten around him. He watched your face as tears of overstimulation rolled down your face. He kissed you once more to muffle your moans. You bit his lip hard pulling on it. It was enough to send him over the edge as he came inside you. 

“My god.” 

You both turn around in a panic and see Aegon lying there on his bed having been woken from the last few moans. 

Aemond quickly stood in front of you to hide what he could. 

“And I didn’t think you ever had it in you brother.” 

[spacelazarwolf]

I think maybe the example given is whats confusing/upsetting people?

I mean yes visibly gnc and trans have very different and often more dangerous experiences! I agree with all of your points and I think its something that needs to be talked about.

But I also can see why people aren't vibing with it? I had to read a few times to get it. The example kind of implies that there are no reasons that a cis-passing afab nonbinary person would want to go to a trans-friendly place besides them feeling more oppressed than they actually are. But like maybe they just want to help support those places, or be around inclusive people, or maybe they're wanting a more gnc haircut and they think that place would be good to get it (to use the haircut example). It just comes off a bit like they're saying the only valid reason to go to trans-friendly business is if you're in danger of violence? And idk like the other person said how do you know just from a photo what that person is thinking/feeling?

Though again this is something that should be discussed and people are ignoring the overall message bc their focusing on the one part which is another issue.

I know the op was frustrated and maybe the wording just isnt the best for what they actually mean, and ik that like they're talking abt a very specific type of person/situation. And also i dont think imperfect language should automatically discount a topic from conversation. Just wanted to share why I think people are getting upset, but I dont wanna like derail the post bc maybe im just overthinking it

nah i get it. i was hesitant to reblog the post at first as well, but i think they bring up a very good point about like. less visibly marginalized demographics of white trans people trying to center themselves in discussions about transphobia that they don’t have experience with. it’s hard to talk abt bc some ppl are so quick to go “and therefore fuck theyfabs they aren’t really oppressed!!!!!!!” bc that’s bullshit. but it grinds my gears every time a thin white femme presenting nonbinary person who lives in like seattle tells me i’m privileged for being a man and couldn’t possibly understand the pain of *checks notes* being misgendered and having people assume you’re a woman when you’re not. (as if that isn’t something i literally still deal with????)

[jewish-vents]

i’m so, so tired. i’ve deleted almost all of my social media apps, barring tumblr. i am definitely a very political person, and have been invested in developed a deeper understanding of world history and geopolitics since i was ~12 (i’m 18 now). but i feel so drained. i’ve muted tags on here relating to palestine and the conflict in general, and i feel horrible about it bc i see people around me constantly posting about it, but i just can’t. i’ve given up. i ideologically leaned far more against the state of israel before oct 7th than i do now, and i’ve seen this amongst many of my jewish friends too. my online friends have always tended to be pro-palestine, but i never saw this much dehumanization coming from them until now. to see how hated jewish people are, to see how many people i loved thought oct 7th was justified resistance… it hurt beyond words… even my longtime irl best friend tried to explain the conflict (and was whining about me getting ben and jerry’s at a store) to me despite not knowing anything about i/p before this war. i hate being talked to like im an idiot. but if i vocalize that, im speaking over others.

i don’t like seeing images of dead children. i don’t like reading about rising death tolls. i don’t like being bombarded with brutal details about humans’ suffering. and that is all everyone online is ever talking about. and all i see people say is that i need to suck it up because there are people suffering way more than me right now, which obviously is true. but i don’t want people to think im a bad, ignorant person. and sometimes i start to believe i actually am. i was very actively posting about the war when it first started, but now as i have seen more and more how cruel people are towards jews i just don’t post much at all on anything besides tumblr. i worry my online friends think i don’t care, and especially that i somehow don’t care about palestinians, when i do, and i always have! but do i have to subject myself to such upsetting information everyday to care? why can i not be afforded a break? why aren’t jewish people allowed to mourn for the loss of life in israel and the hostages without being accused immediately of hating palestinians and wanting them dead? how come non-palestinian muslims are widely allowed to center themselves in this conversation (obviously, muslims are hurting too, though) and talk about their feelings but jews aren’t allowed to? why are jewish people not allowed to feel anything? why must we ignore one group’s suffering and insist that another’s is more important to acknowledge? why?

and i’m just scared, because i don’t know what to believe. maybe israel is somehow doing all these terrible things and im actually evil for doubting it? idk if that makes sense, but it’s how i feel. i’ve witness very disturbing behavior from both zionists and antizionists, and it’s tiring. i have seen members of the former camp saying “there are no innocents in gaza” and members of the latter saying “there are no innocents in israel”. it’s why i can’t really identify with either party, so i feel alone. by its simplest definition i am a zionist, but people have turned that word to mean a million different things that at times it just feels like its lost its meaning. and when i see someone say “zionists dni” on their acc its like… what do you even mean?

i think there are a lot of well-meaning people in the pro palestine crowd, and i don’t think that’s wishful thinking either. though obviously, there are a lot of truly vindictive people out there who have nothing but hatred in their hearts. but i now get anxious to see an account i follow post something pro-palestine. and i feel so horrible about it. i know many of these people have good intentions, but i automatically assume there is something more sinister going on, whether it’s someone i know personally or not posting about it. and i don’t want to! i want to believe most people are good! or at least decent! but i can’t.

i just wish i didn’t have to be bombarded with so much information whenever i log on to interact with fandom posts. but i worry that means i don’t care. but i really think i do… i can’t not care. but sometimes i feel like im not caring enough

.

[worlds-oldest-teenager]

Kind of controversial but why are people acting like TSATS is Rick Riordan's first queer book? Like Magnus chase who? Trials of Apollo?

Warning ⚠️: Long rant under the cut. It's not very tsats friendly so please scroll if you don't want to read.

Idk it just feels like sometimes the fandom doesn't really view queer rep as valid unless it centers around romance. Completely biased as a toa fan but toa had so much rep. The bi mc, the gay geysers, the kindly old lesbian couple taking in unwanted kids, ace characters, characters struggling with comphet, characters crushing on people of the same gender and none of it being taken as something out of the ordinary. It just wasn't centred around romance.

The toa fandom has always been pretty small and chill with activity spiking everytime a new book releases. Then suddenly when Tower of Nero came out there were so many people. So what changed, what brought in so many people who weren't even interested in the premise of the book?

It was Solangelo.

I like solangelo as much as the next person (minus the year of seething rage when they were dominating the toa tag) but the way that people discount an amazing series about change, growth and overcoming abuse with some of the best casual queer rep I've seen and consider the only thing of value being a minor mlm couple with a few pages of screentime leaves a pretty bad taste in my mouth.

Magnus chase is another book. Alex fierro isn't perfect rep (stop calling Alex slurs holy fuck) but it was revolutionary to have a gender fluid character in a children's series and this was back in 2016. Fierrochase is pretty popular but I wonder sometimes if Alex and Magnus would be as popular as they are if they never got together. They're still not as popular as solangelo but in good faith that might be because people became too fatigued to read mcga.

It just feels sometimes that these books are viewed as lesser queer books just because there's no shipping or it's not a (I'm so sorry don't kill me ) heart stopper esque gay couple. Idk if im taking this too personally as a potentially ace *slides nsfw art under desk* person whose gender is wonky but it's just my thoughts on this.

But I just feel like the focus should be on the countries banning and censoring the book instead of people with perfectly valid criticism of it. There are so many of his books with queer rep and most of the criticism I've seen have come from LGBTQIA+ people that like these books or at least put the same energy into scrutinizing them too. Idk why people assume anything bad said about TSATS was a bad faith reading done out of homophobia.

All that being said, tsats is definitely being marketed as the first queer book. It's banned not very accessible in my country despite all the others going through- which sucks. It's being treated like the first queer focused book Rick has written and it's coming out at a bad time for everyone but especially people in the US apparently. So I understand why any reactions would be taken as the fandoms reaction to the first queer book.

So who is more homophobic? The person who doesn't like a queer book or the person who holds a queer romance as the pinacle of queer? The answer : no clue man it's complicated and it's sucks that we're all so on edge in these trying times that we automatically assume the worst. There's nuance that a smarter person than me can elaborate on but I am not he.

Sorry for writing something so divisive during pride month but it is a conservation that should be had and what better month than one celebrating queer identity and representation. Hope everyone has a great pride month and stays safe.

Peace and love ✌️🏳️‍🌈💜

[marinsawakening]

This is probably the one and only time I'll talk about Gerudo gender politics (beyond pointing out how shit their writing is), because frankly it's a whole mess. But it really does drive me up the wall to see people insist the Gerudo can be trans inclusive with minimal to no deviations from canon. Because the Gerudo's whole worldbuilding is fundamentally centered around an orientalist, patriarchal idea of women and gender as a whole that simply does not allow for transgenderism.

The Gerudo are a society exclusively made of women, except for a single man born every century, who is the exception that proves the rule. In this sentence alone, you can see that Gerudo worldbuilding runs on a fundamental assumption of gender and sex as a) binary, and b) selfsame. The only way of telling which people are men or women from birth is by looking at their genitals and assigning them as such based on a binary notion of sex/gender that ignores the existence of intersex and trans people.

Furthermore: this one man is said to automatically become king of the Gerudo. This fact exposes another key aspect of the assumptions of gender Gerudo worldbuilding is based: patriarchal ones, the assumption that men are inherently superior to women. No matter how nonsensical, the assumption is that a society of exclusively women would jump at the opportunity to be ruled by a man. This is, of course, inherently intertwined with the orientalism upon which the Gerudo are built: the idea of the orientalist idea of the exotic 'harem' female sex object is the gender of the Gerudo, far more than 'woman' could ever hope to be. This orientalist caricature is fundamentally patriarchal in nature, because her whole existence centers around men, and in particular the men who dominate her and/or have sex with her or wish to do so. This, too, is the case with the Gerudo; even in BOTW/TOTK, where there is no evidence that the 'one man born a century becomes king' rule from OOT remains canon, the Gerudo are portrayed as obsessed with men and finding husbands. Whether in OOT or BOTW/TOTK, the Gerudo are orientalist, patriarchal caricatures first and women a very distant second at best.

I'm assuming most people reading this post already knew all this and agree with it. I am explaining it anyway to ask the simple question: how does making the Gerudo trans inclusive address any of this?

Okay, lets say Ganondorf is trans, not cis, and that's how the whole 'one man every century' thing works. That means the Gerudo have a society where trans men are the most powerful class of people, by virtue of being men. That's uncomfortable? Okay, lets say the Gerudo have a structure of gender that allows people to choose man or woman at a later age. That means everyone, en masse, chooses to become an orientalist caricature of womanhood, AND chooses to be governed by the singular man in the process. Nonsensical? Yeah, no shit. Why would a society with effectively one gender even have a concept of 'choosing' your gender? Gerudo gender structures make no sense without gender assigned at birth.

Lets focus specifically on BOTW/TOTK for a bit, because that's the Gerudo society most people try to make trans inclusive. Now: who gets to enter Gerudo Town? Women. How do we ensure only women enter Gerudo Town? There are guards posted, who check that you're a woman. Do the Gerudo allow trans women to enter? It hardly matters, because fundamentally, the metric by which you are allowed in town relies on being clockable as a woman. If you pass, you get in, if you don't, you don't. Even if they, in theory, considered trans women to be women, this would hardly be a 'trans inclusive' policy. But lets say they rely on personal identification more than looks, this now begs the question: what about nonbinary people? How 'woman' is woman enough to enter? Is a bigender person allowed to enter if they're both man and woman? If a genderfluid person enters while they're a woman, are they imprisoned if their gender shifts to male once they're inside? What about those thoroughly rejecting either binary gender; are we okay with them entering because they aren't men, or not okay because they aren't women?

Making the Gerudo trans inclusive does not materially challenge the orientalist, patriarchal idea of gender upon which their foundations were built, and furthermore, it's nigh impossible to do so, especially if you take nonbinary people into account. That's not to say people cannot rewrite the Gerudo to make them trans inclusive, but doing so requires addressing much more than just birth assignment or entrance into town: it requires you to rewrite their orientalist worldbuilding from the ground up. This is a task far outside the scope of what most fans are willing and able to do, but it's necessary if you don't want to end up simply putting a rainbow filter over racism. The Gerudo are caricatures far more than they ever were women, and this makes any attempt to pave over canon's cissexism doomed to fail.

Diversity win! The orientalist caricatures are trans inclusive.

[papirouge]

"Deuteronomy has God commanding his people to raid cities and take women aNd wE aLl kNoW wHat MeaNs" NO YOU DON'T, you idiot.

Israelites were forbidden to have sex outside of marriage AND marry foreign/non Israelite women, so that excludes the possibility for them to rape the women they spared during war.

I swear you guys have your fricking brain rotten by your paranoid agenda that you automatically assume that a man taking charge of women means he's going to rape or abuse her. Totally deranged.

Deuteronomy 22:28-29 isn't about rape but (consensual) sex outside marriage. Again, this person is literally making shit up assuming that bc a man lies with a woman = rape. There's actually a whole another passage in Deuteronomy tackling the punishment of rape (death). I already covered this common lie here.

"tHe mIsoGynY iN tHe bIbLe iSnt sUbtLe"

Ah yes, sooo no subtle you have to make shit up (rape) to make your point.

If the Bible was misogynistic, women would be the only one to have specific obligations. You constantly focusing on women not being to have authority over men shows how MALE CENTRIC you are. You refuse to acknowledge CHRISTIAN WOMEN don't have to abide under any male authority because *ding ding* Christian women existence doesn't revolve around marriage or church assembly/teaching (the place where they can't teach men). But you are soooo obsessed with men that for you, not being able to "dominate" them in one aspect is an offense. If the Bible was forcing women to be under male authority, it wouldn't be the only religion to elevate CELIBACY over marriage.

The only white lies I see are people like you omitting all the other obligations & punishment abiding to men (sometimes, because of women's action) to act like the Bible was focusing on women alone.

Oh and one last thing: Eve having to bear the consequence of her sin isn't misogyny. She messed up and she got punished for that. So did almost all the biblical characters. Accountability isn't "misogyny". also why are you constantly leaving out how Adam TOO got punished and had his own curse (having to work HARD for survival)

Interestingly enough "tHe bIblE is MisogYnIst" squad NEVER brings up why the sin that Eve instigated is called ADAM'S curse....not Eve's curse...🤔 " If the Bible hates women sooooo much, then why does that curse took Adam's name who had to equally share the responsibility (when he sinned only because Eve told him to) ? "Adam didn't get deceived" is factually true. Cope. Women can do mistakes, IDK why you have such a hard time to downplay Eve's

....something-something..... Ah YES : reciprocity of gender roles. You seethe about women having no authority over men? just wait until you learn that men will share guilt for sins or actions perpetuated by WOMEN🙃 Samson anyone? Yael/Barak??...oh sorry, if you actually READ the Bible you'd know what I'm talking about.

And let's not forget how Lot got actually RAPED by his 2 daughters who went away scot free.... Funny how these anti Bible wack feminists have nothing to say about that 🤡 There are occurrence of women (sexually or emotionally) abusing men in the Bible and men aren't screeching about it as much as you do. Men in the Bible had to deal with much more injustice and struggle than biblical women but you won't shut up about how evil the Bible is bc you are a bunch of conceited self centered minsinformed ignorant ungrateful harpies.

[lightofraye]

https://www.tumblr.com/rrahuntersblog/756117973622734848/cockles-is?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/rrahuntersblog/756124858925154304/you-have-an-extreme-mental-illness-get-help?source=share

First of all, don’t assume who know Misha and Jensen personally. Just because they don’t scream “we hang out a lot in private” doesn’t mean they don’t hang out in private.

And for the use of the “r” word he didn’t use it in way to harm anyone. He literally said that the crew called him “Misha, the (insert “r” word) angle” Misha was quoting what people had said or called him. The same goes for the “f” slur. So people can’t quote what other people had said or called them now is that it?. Also for your speech about Jensens praise to Misha (which he has been giving misha for years weather you like it or not) have you not seen at Jib Jensen automatically knew Maisons voice and was the first person to point it out?

you need to open your eyes and take of your J2 centered glasses from time to time and actually realise that Jensen is Just as happy with any other cast of SPN as he is with Jared. Because if you have taken those glasses off you would literally see that Misha brings out Jensens fun and mischievous side. On a contrary to your beliefs Jensen does not pander to Destiel or cockle shippers. Misha Fans know Jensen and acknowledges that Jensen is more popular/ well known than misha, a lot of Misha fans ( the cockles shippers are just small yet loud) enjoy the fun those to bring out. Jensen Jokes about misha and Misha does the same back.

AND ANYONE WITH WORKING EYES AND A BRAIN THAT JENSEN RECIPROCATES THE BEHAVIOUR BACK AT MISHA.

let me educate you, you can find genuine friendship that flirts, tease yet supports each other. Misha and Jensen have been supporting each other for years. Maybe you should go out and find some actual friends and experience that before you spit bs

Hi anon!

So much there….

Ok fine, he was quoting someone… Did he not realize the blowback of him doing that from the f-slur debacle? I’m sure he knows how that went over. He just doesn’t care. He thrives on being edgy because he knows he will be forgiven. That’s what his fans want from him in the first place.

Look, I’m not saying they hate each other, but they don’t have this close relationship that people try to insist they have. Of course he knew Misha’s voice, who else would it have been?

Yes, Jensen does pander to the Destiel/Cockles crowd sometimes unfortunately. This weekend was a little over the top. It’s a point of contention I have with him because he needs to pick a side. He can’t do that then turn around and be like “it’s clear text”, “Destiel doesn’t exist”. He was worse than Misha this past weekend. I believe his intention wasn’t to pander, but just to play off of Misha, which he tends to do, but he has to realize the repercussions of those actions.

Plus if you think Jensen was genuinely happy with Misha... I suggest you watch Jensen with Jared, JDM, or even with Rob. BIG difference, anon.

Big.

Huge.

Also, if you don't like what I say, maybe, I dunno... don't read it?

[hp-confessions]

I hate that people automatically assume you’re homophobic or have malicious intent when you genderbend certain characters (I know some do, but not all).

For me personally, when I do it, I mean no harm or anything. I just love to genderbend certain characters I’m fixated on at the moment or read a fic centered around them. Who they get shipped with is never really on my mind; whether it be a girl or a guy, I’m focused on the main character.

I usually only genderbend one character (which is the main), but at times I do change the genders of other characters. For some characters, I can’t really see genderbent. For example, for Harry and Ron, I can change/see them as girls, but for Hermione, Ginny, and Luna, I can’t change/see them as guys. So like if I’m reading a femharry fic, Ron can be a girl or guy, and I’m good with that, but I would prefer it if Hermione was still a girl. Also would prefer it if Romione and/or Hinny still happen, if not long-term, at least short-term (I hate when their relationship is made strictly platonic once either of them are turned into girls; it burns my soul).

This is not me saying I can’t read about male Harry; I can! And I love him just as much as his female counterpart. I just think (as a girl) I may have an affinity for female characters more, so femharry has a big place in my heart. I honestly believe I just happen to prefer f/f and f/m over m/m (which, I hope that’s okay to say, i’m straight[?] so I don’t know if I can say that or not), not to say that I don’t enjoy it; I very much do, and I’ve read many fantastic m/m fics that I love and think about daily; it’s just...you know...women.

All about preferences, I suppose. 

~

[taran-chan]

hi, I just wanted to say you're one of my fav people to follow so I hope you're doing okay!!! love the ghostie roommates story btw 💖

hello hello i came back with a snippet for the new chapter of my Housemates AU

By and by, i’ll miss you

It was one of the mornings when rain pattered on the window glasses before the sun came up, bringing mist from the sea and the cool air pressing you deeper into your sheet. The haunted house looked like it was dreaming as well, overgrown floral hanging low on the front gate, so still as if frozen in time if not for raindrops flowing along their stem like a chasing game and then flinging themselves off the edge to ricochet on the muddy ground. Three pairs of shoes decorate the entrance and whispers can be heard when you come close enough, but it was impossible to say whether they were from the living ones in the house, or the dead ones. 

In the beach-view bedroom on the first floor, Gilgamesh grumbled awake. His room is right above the kitchen, a space usually filled with activities, and it was twice as noisy in a deeply haunted house. In the first few days he moved in, the ghosts didn’t stop making strange noises until past midnight. Thena had gotten used to it, and she slept much, much later than him so it didn’t bother her that much. She once said if they found him overly demanding, they would ruin the food, even when it was stored in the fridge; some of the previous tenants couldn’t keep their food fresh for over a meal. So Gil talked to the ghosts in the kitchen whenever he cooks, politely telling them to please quiet down at night, because he knew they were there although he couldn’t see them. It had felt a bit stupid, talking to the air, but after a week the noises were reduced to faint footsteps instead of chairs rattling and cabinets swinging open. 

But now he once again heard rustling coming from beneath. Not again, he thought with some annoyance, turning to his side and putting a pillow over his ear. He almost dozed off again, tethering on the verge of a new dream while still wondering if his alarm was about to go off and how many hours or minutes he got left in his very comfortable bed on this gloomy day. Did his mind create those voices in part of the dream he was about to have, or was it Druig lurking around again? However, the voices sounded real enough and were getting louder by the second. Gil slowly sat up with a sigh, then a loud yawn escaped him.      

Halfway going downstairs, he recognized both discussing voices. One belongs to an ethereal writer, and the other is her flamboyant editor. A few sheets of paper tickled his feet as he reached the small hallway leading to the kitchen. He gathered them on his way like following a bread trail, bringing himself closer to the two creatures who stole his sleep.

Thena sat on the dining table in her nightgown and usual robe, the very center of a white circle formed by drafts and notes and testing samples. The unused sheets were carelessly thrown on the floor or pushed to the edges where they can slide off at any given moment. Kingo leaned backward on one of the chairs, letting it stand on its two back legs - the sight gave Gil the impression of a bored teenager. They surely wore the expression of exhausted students on the due day of their group project. 

“Where are pages 325 and 326?” Thena asked without looking away from the stack of papers in her hand, reading what Gil assumed was the final draft of her new book. Kingo immediately dug into the mess and came up with the required pages. Thena pulled the cap of her red pen with her teeth and started making notes directly on her draft. 

“Again? You’re such a perfectionist,” Kingo sighed, “And we still need to choose an artist who’s going to design the cover! May I remind you today is the last day to decide that?”  

She looked up, probably to tell him to shut up, but her eyes caught Gil’s, who was lingering at the doorway. His lips automatically stretched into a smile, “Good morning.” 

“Good morning,” she said, her frown fading, “Did we wake you?” 

“It’s alright, I usually get up at this hour,” he said, bending down to pick up more papers in order to move further inside.

“Sorry for the mess, Gil,” Kingo got up to help him, stifling a yawn, “We’re kinda in a hurry now.”  

“No problems, pal. Breakfast?” 

“I would kill for some scrambled egg right now.”

“Thena?” 

“Sounds good,” she hopped off the table with her completed draft tucked safely under her arm. She handed it to Kingo and they cleaned up while Gil spread their breakfast ingredients by the sink. After a few minutes, the worn wooden surface reappeared from under the papers and runny eggs began to sizzle in the pan. As Thena laid out the dishes, Kingo fished for her comments on the few chosen artists with newfound energy. 

“How about this guy?” He held up a photo and several artworks. Thena glanced at it, then shook her head wearily, “I’d rather ask a Spirit to do it than him, they would take the hearing of my left ear but at least their work would be decent.”

Kingo heard Gil’s snort but ignored him, “He’s very famous on TikTok!” 

“Gil, what do you think about this artwork?” Thena plugged a sheet from his hand and turned it toward the other man. He neared the table, to get a closer look at it but also to scrape scrambled eggs into two plates.

“At first sight, it looks good. But I can’t feel its spirit, its soul. This looks like the artist just threw a bunch of colours on his canvas and called it a day.”

“See?”

“Yeah, because that Wood Spirit sculpture wasn’t lively enough for you and you need to ask for more.”

“Too soon, man,” Gil shakes his head sadly. He and his employees had settled into their new workshop, and even though his grandfather’s essence resided within his blood - both the purifying power and the sculpting skills - he still mourned his old shop a little, maybe he would save up to restore it someday. Meanwhile, Kingo shrank under Thena’s deathly glare.  

“Forgive me, it’s the sleep deprivation talking. Well, you two are the experts here,” He groans, sagging against his chair, “Fine, I’ll pick someone else. But if I ran out of options, we would have to pull the “debut book” move again and you would have to send me another photo you took that has a similar vibe to this book.”

“Deal.” 

“Why don’t you just…do that in the first place with all your books?” Gil asked, cutting up fruit for a salad. Kiwis, mangoes and summer berries teamed up with bright yellow eggs, brightening up their day. 

“I like looking at illustrations for my books,” Thena shrugs. He couldn’t help but grin at the simplicity of her reason. Thena was adorable.

[cerebraldischarge]

“Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.” - Terry Pratchett

My right ear is still a little wonky from the loop-de-loop I did around the Catholic bits of the Second World - the doubly traumatized bits, if you will. But I don’t wanna talk about trauma again, lest I risk sounding thoroughly bromidic. But how about blue milk?

I know, it’s a Star Wars gimmick. But in the center of Warsaw, behind a towering hotel that’s so expensive it made me turn my tail and run, there’s a little place that’s simply called “the place to drink beer and vodka”, according to what Google told me about the blue neon sign above the door. (Straight and to the point, I guess.) It gave refuge to me when I was forlorn, my phone was dying and I was thirstier than a 50-year-old virgin looking at OnlyFans pages. Here, blue milk consists of: milk (obviously), white rum, and curacao liqueur, and it’s absolutely ambrosial.

Oh, that bit about being desperate. Yeah… I wandered out of my comfort zone a little too much this weekend. I’ve been to foreign places before, but written Dutch is easily decipherable if you have some idea of English, German, and how they are related to one another, so at least I could read the signs there; and even in the beach town in Croatia I could rely on finding someone who spoke at least rudimentary English when I got confused. I even liked to strike up some conversation with the Bolt drivers I hailed for succor. One of them - a handsome bald lad - told me that his best friend hung himself due to financial difficulties and that’s why he’s studying finance at university now. Another - an older gentleman - urged me to start going to church again and confess my sins. He just assumed I was raised Catholic by default - which I sort of was, but it’s not as much of a given for me as it would be down there. It was a charming interaction, albeit a little awkward - as it always is when religion comes up. My tattooist was also an older gentleman there, in Zadar’s medieval old town center, and we chatted throughout the 20-minute procedure, mostly about his interesting and very ocean-connected life. I also talked a bit with the cashier at a sex shop. (For some reason, I always end up going to these to ask for directions. Not even kidding, it happened in Munich and Berlin.)

All of that, and I mean all of it, went out of the window in Poland. Two people - the guy who made me blue milk and the hostel receptionist - understood me. The rest of them inexplicably assumed that if they talk louder in Polish, I’ll get it eventually. In the Vietnamese restaurant, I could rely on the good old “point at your order” method; in the grocery store I did not say a word, just like at home - by the way, some of their dried meat products are freaking phenomenal. As far as getting around goes, I glued my eyes to the little blue dot that was representing me, and relied on automatic functions as much as possible. Truth be told, I couldn’t read a damn thing on the streets, nor could I make heads or tails out of what was said to me, and this was utterly disorienting. It’s not like I let it stop me, but holy mackerel, it did put some things into perspective. So this is what my father experienced when he overheard me on a Zoom call (with the additional weirdness of his own offspring slowly becoming a foreigner to him, no doubt). So this is what all monolingual people go through when they get out of their little cultural bubble - or nonverbal autistic people every day, for that matter. This is the scary part I’ve been hearing about!

This gets us back to where we started - or rather, why I started: why I opened Skyscanner, completely sober this time, and clicked some buttons in the first place. Because I was bored. Because I had enough of my room and my antisemitic ancient aliens conspiracy theorist landlord and my corrupt leaders and my own little environment, and wanted something new. Well, I got it. This morning, I couldn’t wait to get back to the bitch cave. I had enough of being confused, hearing unrecognizable words, feeling alone, and all that. I did get some seriously cool cemetery photos out of it, and I met some cats, and I got closer to a bunch of squirrels than I ever dared to surmise, and I shot some guns again (http://pmshooter.pl if any of you happens to show up the area; being Easterners, don’t expect the staff to be overly friendly, but they are definitely professional and you can actually get some limited full-auto time in, unlike in my corner of the woods) - I even got a fancy bracelet made of the bottoms of .357 Magnum rounds, so I wouldn’t say I didn’t enjoy it or it wasn’t worth it, but by the gods, I was bone-weary by the time it was over.

Oh, and the beach part? I wish I could have stayed longer (I tried to ask for 3 nights but they only had vacancy for 2), but perhaps I got precisely what I went for. Namely, a moment of what felt like absolute clarity - something my skeptical, prying, curious, contrarian mind rarely allows to happen. Swimming in the ocean at sunset, I felt something enigmatic and numinous. First of all, I was no longer uncomfortable in my body. The ever-present itches, aches, stickiness, clumsiness dissolved in the water, and I was just frolicking around like a child. (Perhaps this is why I loved swimming so much as an actual child: it freed me from being a sensitive-skinned, gravity-bound klutz.) Then the waves started throwing me around like a wine cork. A thought occurred to me: This is the real world, the stuff that exists independently of humanity - and by dying, I’m not leaving it behind, I’m becoming a part of it. With this came a neoteric lightness, a beatific state devoid of wonted anxieties. I was having the time of my life bobbing up and down, half willingly, half out of control - and I accidentally drank a sip of the salty water. Another thought occurred to me: Sodium nitrite is going to taste something like this, I’ve been told. So I shouldn’t be scared of it. Yeah, it’s not my original favorite, but… At that moment, I felt like I could completely trust it and shouldn’t be afraid of failure. What’s more, this happened on Thursday evening - that is, the 17th, which is my lucky number and the start of the last month countdown to the first anniversary of my father’s death (and likely my final day, unless something else happens - I dare not to make promises anymore, for as my dear father used to say: “Man plans, and god…dammit, there’s always something in the way”). I’m not one for magical thinking, but this coincidence pleases me greatly. If I was into the pervasive mysticism of our age, I’d take it as a sign - as the universe trying to reassure me that I’m on the right track. As it is, I take everything with a grain of salt. But this experience definitely put me more at ease with my circumstances, including the one that has been a thorn in my side for as long as I can recall: the conspiracy between my ineptitude regarding illicit activities and the bureaucratic paranoia of all the governments I’ve seen so far, which results in the vexatious fact that I still don’t possess a firearm and in all likelihood never will. Before you ask - yes, I did ask around for leftovers from the 1990s while I was in Croatia, but all I got was apologetic smiles and something along the lines of “I don’t know about that” every single time. Whether that answer was honest or not, I couldn’t discern. Perhaps someone with more time, better people skills, and more knowledge of the local language could conduct a more fruitful expedition.

My budget suffered greatly, but I grew as a person. The end becomes clearer and clearer, and I’m present for the grand finale.

[lyrarts]

Adding on some lessons from my photojournalism days before I switched majors (be glad you don't have to learn about film speeds on top of all this other stuff because adding that variable in too was OOF):

If you are able to use manual focus, that can help especially in low light when autofocus struggles to work as well. CAVEAT if you have poor eyesight, especially those of us with high astigmatism tend to mis-focus and we do it worse in low light. (This is actually what forced me to change majors - at the time autofocus was not as reliable or fast as it is now so we were all supposed to use manual focus on school projects whenever possible.)

If you are using autofocus, see if your camera will let you set it so that the focal point is ONLY using the center dot, not automatically choosing for you. Using this you can auto-meter and focus on your subject with a half-press of the shutter button, THEN move your camera for better composition before pressing the rest of the way to take the shot. Meter/focus first, then compose was a constant refrain from my professors.

Be willing to spend a lot of time in one place and keep your camera at the ready. The longer you spend the more you can start to read body language and see when something interesting is about to happen. Don't wait for the exact moment, start shooting before it and keep going a little while after the cool thing happens. You're more likely to catch what you're after that way.

If you're taking photos somewhere there's a lot of glare, circular polarizing filters are your best friend.

UV filters aren't as critical these days as they were for film cameras' sensitive parts, but they are a cheap way to protect the end of your lens from scratches and are worth having if you don't already have a different filter slapped on there.

Get those little lens cap holders that let them dangle off the camera so you can't drop them. Trust me. A lost lens cap suuuuuuuucks.

If in doubt, focus as close to the eyes of the animal as you can. That way if your depth of field is too narrow you at least have the face in focus.

Go during off hours if you can. The animals often come out to play more on the exact days that cause fewer people to go to the zoo.

Golden hour is your friend for dramatic lighting. Open shade is your friend for easy metering. Play around with lighting conditions and see what works for you and time your visits accordingly.

For composition, a lot of the principles that guide art apply to photography as well. Rule of thirds is a commonly used one, but there's also other rules like not cutting your subject off at a joint whenever possible if you can't fit the whole animal/person in frame.

Learn whether your camera can do that thing where you focus once then hold down the shutter to rapid-fire shots. Use that in excess. Digital is FANTASTIC for that where with film you used to have to be a lot more judicious with how you used your shots, since it was a lot more limited. I have gotten some amazing action sequences using the burst feature like this.

If you are using your camera's automatic light metering instead of tweaking the setting manually, keep in mind that the camera will automatically assume anything you point it at is "neutral gray" which is supposed to be midway between white and black. Some modes let you auto-meter while having the numbers adjusted up or down accordingly so it doesn't mess it up. Modern cameras are somewhat better at taking in a whole scene, but again I prefer focus using the center dot so sometimes I have to tweak the metering settings, depending on my subject and the surrounding area (snow photos can be tricksy).

Expect to have to edit at least a little in post. The goal is to meter well so you do the least amount of editing, because the more you edit the more it shows in the quality of the finalized image, but for your average DSLR there's only rarely going to be a time when you do exactly no editing once you get those files onto your computer. I usually do just the very tiniest tweak on mine to add a little warmth and fix the black levels where my eyesight forces me to rely too heavily on the automatic settings.

...I know I am probably missing a million things but that's what I've got in my brain at the moment.

Do you have any advice for photography, especially when it comes to animals? I just got a camera and I was wondering if you had any tips because I love the photographs of animals you take :)

Do the work to learn how to swap your settings around for the right exposure / f-stop / shutter speed, and practice until you can figure out it out on the fly. I will admit I’m still not good at this, and shoot mostly based on pre-set settings and vibes - but I’m getting more fluent and the times I’ve figured out what changes I needed to make quickly the in moment, it’s really improved the photos I get. I wish I had a good resource to link, but look up explainers for the “exposure triangle” to start you off.

It’s important to understand what your camera / the lenses you use can and can’t do. I like to shoot telephoto for super close-up shots, but I don’t have ten thousand dollars for a telephoto that does well in low light, so I’ve had to learn to predict when I’m going to need to swap it out for a shorter lens that can handle darker light conditions (looking at you, indoor reptile habitats). Most newer smartphones are currently better for macro photography than any lens I currently have, and easier to use for it. You can ask questions of people at camera stores, or try Reddit for super detailed discussions of specs and settings. I am incredibly lucky that I have two close friends who do hardcore hobbyist/professional level photography and let me pester them regularly with questions as I figure this stuff out.

Learn the animals, too. I get good photos without a lot of technical skill because I can predict behavior and set up for the shots that I want. So the more you know about the animals you’re photographing and how they use the space they’re in, the better chance you have of getting something you’re happy with.

Also like… just practice. A lot. Thank goodness for digital cameras and memory cards. On a normal zoo trip, I will shoot upwards of 4000 photos. I keep maybe 500 of them, unless I’ve gotten astoundingly lucky. If I’m shooting animals being chill, I get the pics I think I want and then play around with my settings and take the exact same photos again, so I can compare and learn what works best. Some things, like focusing through fencing or physically tracking flying birds across the sky, just take repetition to get fluent with.

Have fun with the new camera!!

[funkymbtifiction]

done with tritypes

Something has been bugging me lately and growing into a greater concern the more I observe myself and others. It's centered on the Enneagram, a tool for self-knowledge that leads to self development.

You are supposed to do introspection to discover your motivations and unpack your behaviors. From there, you move toward growth as your type by identifying things you can change and tackling them. When that happens, amazing stuff unfolds in your life. You get to see yourself growing, maturing, and changing as you shift away from “automatic” behaviors to “I am choosing not to do these things that make my life hell.”

That was my journey, and I was growing a lot... until I learned about tritype. And now I see others locked in the same swirling toilet bowl that has claimed the last several years of my life. I am seeing people focusing on finding their tritype and becoming more confused about themselves in the process. Instead of working on self-development and erasing the problems caused by their type/wing, introspecting and learning to identify those behaviors as they are happening, and finding clarity by identifying their inner workings, they get caught up in a loop of “What’s my fixes? What’s my second fix? What if I am this instead of that? Is this one or this one my core??? HELP ME.”

Which… means there’s no inner growth happening. It has stalled out while they focus on a far less important facet of their personality.

I have gone down this rabbit hole. Spent hours thinking about myself in unproductive ways (as opposed to analyzing my reactions as a 6 and choosing to work on them), rethinking my fixes, and trying to see them at work… with no growth as a result.

Why???

When, all along, 6w7 made perfect sense to me from the start, and is all I needed to know to stop projecting my motivations onto other people, assuming people were mad at me without evidence, over-apologizing, and playing games with people due to my indecision. That type made sense. It gave me total clarity. I read my first 6 chapter and wanted to cry, because for the first time in my life, I knew someone else understood how I think and that I'm not crazy. Other people go through this! Other people are cautious! Other people also second-guess themselves! It brought me a flash of insight. A boom of self-awareness that caused ripples in my life. You mean the negative stories I tell myself aren't real?? I don't have to believe them?? Dazed by all this sudden clarity, I got to work on the tedious task of growth. Of realizing, "I am projecting right now. I don't have to do that." Or asking "Am I jerking this person around by being unsure about them? That's a lousy thing to do to someone I care about." Or "I am freaking out, but when has the worst actually happened to me? ... never. Calm down and stop your catastrophic thinking." Or "Why am I second-guessing my ability to write another book, when the 12 lined up on my shelf are evidence that I am more than capable of doing this?"

I am done. I am going back to my core, wing, and stacking. It's all I need. It explains me entirely. It gives me clarity and joy because I can see how much I have grown. I think that's vital, especially when you are deciding who to learn from in the Enneagram world. How has this teacher grown? How are they different? How has knowing their core type and wing helped them advance to a higher degree of self-awareness and self-growth? Do they have stories about how they used to be at a lower level, and what changed? If you interact with them over a long period of time, are they still stuck at the same place in their ego-development? Are they able to laugh when they catch themselves "doing" automatic responses and say, "Sorry, total __ moment! I really thought I had gotten past that!"?

Unfortunately, the thing I hate the most about myself has not gone away, and that's my argumentative, contrarian nature, a facet of 6 / Ne-dom. Being contrarian causes my loved ones pain. I hate that. If I had put as much energy into catching myself launching into 'brat' mode out of boredom and... not doing it, maybe I would be even further along in my journey than I am today.

I’m done answering tritype asks. I don't ask anyone to agree with me that it's unimportant, but I intend to view any of my identifications with other numbers by asking myself, “Could this be a deep aspect of my type/wing? Where is this coming from and what do I do with it?”

I want myself to grow.

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Okay, I don't get it: What does goblin rebellion has anything to do with Jewish? I've seen many people getting angry about it, but I don't know why.

I am far from being the best person to explain this. I am not Jewish, so if I get any part of this wrong, I humbly ask any Jewish readers who come across this post to let me know so I can make corrections.

But my understanding of it is this: The Potterverse Goblins are problematic because Goblins are problematic in general. In theory, they're not supposed to be. In theory, they're just another fantastical creature like fairies or dragons, right? Well, not exactly. The Goblin fulfils a number of stereotypes, and in all likelihood traces it's origin back to offensive caricatures of Jewish people. You can read a lot more about this here, and it's explained far better than I ever could - but the bottom line is that at least one version of Goblin mythology ("cornish knockers") specifically cites them as being the souls of Jews who are condemned for their sins....so um, yikes. While the Goblin race has probably been fleshed out enough beyond those origins that it could could theoretically be "reclaimed" at this point...that is, frankly, not our decision to make.

I'm also not saying that using Goblins in your story automatically means you're an Anti-Semite. (It would be a stretch, for instance, to assume Stan Lee was antisemitic just because he invented The Green Goblin.) Like I said earlier, it's very possible for authors to simply not know this bit of history. (Though if this teaches us anything, it's that a little bit of research can go a long way.) I was completely clueless about all this myself, until just a few years ago. I couldn't understand the problem either. While I personally doubt that Rowling knew, or did this on purpose...her interpretation of the Goblins is still troubling. Most people are finding it very difficult to give her the benefit of the doubt on this, because at least on paper, the Potterverse Goblins check off all the boxes. Everything from their design, with the long, hooked noses...to their miserly behavior, to the point where they are the bankers of the Potterverse...yeah, it's not a great look. If you put Goblin culture under a microscope, I tend to think it's actually supposed to be a metaphor for white imperialism, but all of the stereotypes involved are still there.

Which brings us to Harry Potter: Hogwarts Legacy. At this moment, I feel that it's important to reiterate that I am not Jewish, and this is going to stray a bit further into speculation on my part. Again, please set me straight if I'm off course. But the plot of this game, so I hear, is going to be centered around one of the famous "Goblin Rebellions" that Harry learned about in History of Magic. Again, at first glance, there's nothing wrong with that. But I can see why it's rubbing people the wrong way. With how often Jewish people have been victimized throughout history, (and holy fuck, have they been through the ringer) it's possible to draw a parallel between the Goblin Rebellion and real world history. The problem is that in real life, The Jews were, y'know, the victims during these incidents...and seeing as how the player is going to be controlling a human character, something tells me that The Goblins in this game will be depicted as the villains. Now, maybe they'll make this a three-dimensional conflict. Maybe they'll flesh out The Goblin characters. Maybe they'll be sympathetic, maybe we'll have the choice to side with them.

But that's a lot of "maybe's."

There's also the timing. People are already wary around Rowling after she revealed herself as a transphobe, which is the sort of damage you just can't fix or take back - not that she's in any way trying to. But I wonder if recent events have inspired a healthy degree of paranoia. Now that Rowling has chosen to openly side with bigots, nothing is off the table: Maybe Dumbledore's story is written to be homophobic. Maybe the House Elves are glorifying slavery. Not saying that I think either of these things are true, but these are classic criticisms of the original books, and now they have a precedent. In the wake of all this, creating a game where the plot centralizes the oft criticized Goblins certainly isn't helping. This game couldn't have come at a worse time for Rowling or the Harry Potter brand.

[qqueenofhades]

Hi. You made a post a couple of days ago about how queer historical fiction doesnt need to be defined only by homophobia. Can you expand on that a bit maybe? Because it seems interesting and important, but I'm a little confused as to whether that is responsible to the past and showing how things have changed over time. Anyway this probably isn't very clear, but I hope its not insulting. Have a good day :)

Hiya. I assume you're referring to this post, yes? I think the main parameters of my argument were set out pretty clearly there, but sure, I'm happy to expand on it. Because I'm a little curious as to why you think that writing a queer narrative (especially a queer fictional narrative) that doesn't make much reference to or even incorporate explicit homophobia is (implicitly) not being "responsible to the past." I've certainly made several posts on this topic before, but as ever, my thoughts and research materials change over time. So, okay.

(Note: I am a professional historian with a PhD, a book contract for an academic monograph on medieval/early modern queer history, and soon-to-be-several peer-reviewed publications on medieval queer history. In other words, I'm not just talking out of my ass here.)

As I noted in that post, first of all, the growing emphasis on "accuracy" in historical fiction and historically based media is... a mixed bag. Not least because it only seems to be applied in the Game of Thrones fashion, where the only "accurate" history is that which is misogynistic, bloody, filthy, rampantly intolerant of competing beliefs, and has no room for women, people of color, sexual minorities, or anyone else who has become subject to hot-button social discourse today. (I wrote a critical post awhile ago about the Netflix show Cursed, ripping into it for even trying to pretend that a show based on the Arthurian legends was "historically accurate" and for doing so in the most simplistic and reductive way possible.) This says far more about our own ideas of the past, rather than what it was actually like, but oh boy will you get pushback if you try to question that basic premise. As other people have noted, you can mix up the archaeological/social/linguistic/cultural/material stuff all you like, but the instant you challenge the ingrained social ideas about The Bad Medieval Era, cue the screaming.

I've been a longtime ASOIAF fan, but I do genuinely deplore the effect that it (and the show, which was by far the worst offender) has had on popular culture and widespread perceptions of medieval history. When it comes to queer history specifically, we actually do not know that much, either positive or negative, about how ordinary medieval people regarded these individuals, proto-communities, and practices. Where we do have evidence that isn't just clerical moralists fulminating against sodomy (and trying to extrapolate a society-wide attitude toward homosexuality from those sources is exactly like reading extreme right-wing anti-gay preachers today and basing your conclusions about queer life in 2021 only on those), it is genuinely mixed and contradictory. See this discussion post I likewise wrote a while ago. Queerness, queer behavior, queer-behaving individuals have always existed in history, and labeling them "queer" is only an analytical conceit that represents their strangeness to us here in the 21st century, when these categories of exclusion and difference have been stringently constructed and applied, in a way that is very far from what supposedly "always" existed in the past.

Basically, we need to get rid of the idea that there was only one empirical and factual past, and that historians are "rewriting" or "changing" or "misrepresenting" it when they produce narratives that challenge hegemonic perspectives. This is why producing good historical analysis is a skill that takes genuine training (and why it's so undervalued in a late-capitalist society that would prefer you did anything but reflect on the past). As I also said in the post to which you refer, "homophobia" as a structural conceit can't exist prior to its invention as an analytical term, if we're treating queerness as some kind of modern aberration that can't be reliably talked about until "homosexual" gained currency in the late 19th century. If there's no pre-19th century "homosexuality," then ipso facto, there can be no pre-19th-century "homophobia" either. Which one is it? Spoiler alert: there are still both things, because people are people, but just as the behavior itself is complicated in the premodern past, so too is the reaction to it, and it is certainly not automatic rejection at all times.

Hence when it comes to fiction, queer authors have no responsibility (and in my case, certainly no desire) to uncritically replicate (demonstrably false!) narratives insisting that we were always miserable, oppressed, ostracised, murdered, or simply forgotten about in the premodern world. Queer characters, especially historical queer characters, do not have to constantly function as a political mouthpiece for us to claim that things are so much better today (true in some cases, not at all in the others) and that modernity "automatically" evolved to a more "enlightened" stance (definitely not true). As we have seen with the recent resurgence of fascism, authoritarianism, nationalism, and xenophobia around the world, along with the desperate battle by the right wing to re-litigate abortion, gay rights, etc., social attitudes do not form in a vacuum and do not just automatically become more progressive. They move backward, forward, and side to side, depending on the needs of the societies that produce them, and periods of instability, violence, sickness, and poverty lead to more regressive and hardline attitudes, as people act out of fear and insularity. It is a bad human habit that we have not been able to break over thousands of years, but "[social] things in the past were Bad but now have become Good" just... isn't true.

After all, nobody feels the need to constantly add subtextual disclaimers or "don't worry, I personally don't support this attitude/action" implied authorial notes in modern romances, despite the cornucopia of social problems we have today, and despite the complicated attitude of the modern world toward LGBTQ people. If an author's only reason for including "period typical homophobia" (and as we've discussed, there's no such thing before the 19th century) is that they think it should be there, that is an attitude that needs to be challenged and examined more closely. We are not obliged to only produce works that represent a downtrodden past, even if the end message is triumphal. It's the same way we got so tired of rape scenes being used to make a female character "stronger." Just because those things existed (and do exist!), doesn't mean you have to submit every single character to those humiliations in some twisted name of accuracy.

Yes, as I have always said, prejudices have existed throughout history, sometimes violently so. But that is not the whole story, and writing things that center only on the imagined or perceived oppression is not, at this point, accurate OR helpful. Once again, I note that this is specifically talking about fiction. If real-life queer people are writing about their own experiences, which are oftentimes complex, that's not a question of "representation," it's a question of factual memoir and personal history. You can't attack someone for being "problematic" when they are writing about their own lived experience, which is something a younger generation of queer people doesn't really seem to get. They also often don't realise how drastically things have changed even in my own lifetime, per the tags on my reblog about Brokeback Mountain, and especially in media/TV.

However, if you are writing fiction about queer people, especially pre-20th century queer people, and you feel like you have to make them miserable just to be "responsible to the past," I would kindly suggest that is not actually true at all, and feeds into a dangerous narrative that suggests everything "back then" was bad and now it's fine. There are more stories to tell than just suffering, queer characters do not have to exist solely as a corollary for (inaccurate) political/social commentary on the premodern past, and they can and should be depicted as living their lives relatively how they wanted to, despite the expected difficulties and roadblocks. That is just as accurate, if sometimes not more so, than "they suffered, the end," and it's something that we all need to be more willing to embrace.

[omiscurls]

omi doesn’t like flowers

sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader fluff

 cw: the reader has a little sibling, i hope nobody minds, there’s one line of very slightly implied nsfw, you won’t even notice

meant for kiyoomi’s birthday! happy b-day to my favorite boy <3 

one of the first things you’ve learnt about your boyfriend, even before your relationship started, is that he rarely shared personal information with anyone. he’d go as far as put up a fake birthday on his social media to avoid the awkward wishes and tons of yet another gifts from fans he so didn’t like going through. apart from that, there was a lot of weird things going on with birthdays, in his opinion: for instance people automatically thinking about zodiac sign or assuming other things, insisting to have a party, (a surprise one was his biggest nightmare) and a whole lot of other stuff he found appalling.

so it was just simply easier to say his birthday is “mid november” and get on with his life as if he didn’t just straight up lie. and truth be told, many times had you heard that “oh, in summer” or “right before christmas” before you got to know the truth. it wasn’t that easy on its own, but ever since his first little white lie, you knew he wasn’t true with you, and kept insisting, until he finally pulled you to the side and told you his real date of birth, the one only komori, atsumu, and, as he used to say, “unfortunately” his family knew.

march 20th was the date, and since you wanted to tease him, a grin appeared on your face before you mumbled “so a pisces, huh?” and earned a glare so cold and deadly, you visibly shivered before apologizing.

the next thing you learned about him and his birthday, was that he was picky about gifts. which went well with that “i’m an old fashioned gentleman” facade, because he could just say “oh, you don’t have to buy me anything. your company will be enough” with a slight smile he’d practice for years, and people thought he was just being humble and polite. spoiler alert: he wasn’t. he just didn’t want to deal with his own pickiness, and explaining to people what precisely would he like to get was too much trouble, and took away the magic of it even for someone as blunt as kiyoomi sakusa.

it’s not like birthdays were such a big deal for him, anyway, he didn’t need any gifts or parties to celebrate the fact that he just got one year older. what was so fun about that? but like the pain in the arse you were, you kept asking him what he wanted for the occassion way before he asked you out, and he hated it, but not more than he hated the way his heart jumped at the possibility of getting something you spent your time on. 

the first year of your friendship, you got to know the basic thing: omi doesn’t like gifts. gifts make him uncomfortable, he didn’t know what to say, how to act, what to do with it... does he open it right then and there, or wait, but why would he immediately thank someone if he doesn’t even open it? schroedinger’s cat: if he doesn’t open it, it might as well be thin air inside the box.

it was confusing, and weird. you also learnt that it was all caused by the fact that no one was in the house to celebrate young omi’s birthday back in his childhood days, since his parents were working and his siblings long away in college, so he just assumed it was a holiday to be overlooked and not dwelled too much on, and got so used to it, that now it bothered him to be in the center of attention for once. 

the third thing you learnt that year: it was almost impossible to find him a good enough gift, at least from your perspective. you spent literal hours at the store, looking at the different things he might’ve wanted, but nothing caught your eye. you called all his friends, yet he hadn’t mentioned the thing he’d like to anyone, not even komori. so you decided you’d go with instinct and remembered one cold morning when he showed up to practice grumpier than usual, and when he was asked what’s wrong, he answered:

“i woke up late and didn’t have time to make coffee”, half mumbling, half actually speaking, eyes too tired to be annoyed, legs slowly sweeping one before another as if he was forced to come here. And that’s where you got your idea. 

His first birthday with you, being his 21st, had started terribly, because it was wishes from his family. He’d told you multiple times he’d rather have them forget that send those copied off the internet lines that mean less than a “go fuck yourself” 

later on atsumu insisted or telling everyone and it took poor omi more than twenty minutes to convince him not to, and as both the setter and the spiker weren’t in their top moods nor form, MSBY lost a match they had that day. so all he wanted to do march 20th 2017 when he came home was to lay flat on his couch and play with his dog’s fur while watching a crappy TV show. he most definitely didn’t expect you sitting in front of his apartment’s door, tired, almost asleep. 

he sighed, approching you and slightly nudging your foot with his, making you shake your head and look up. 

“you’re back!” you said with a smile, and he raised an eyebrow. 

“and you look like a homeless person” he responded upsentmindedly, avoiding you to reach the door lock. only after you got up did he see a small package you held behind your back. “it’s not a right day to be celebrating me, y/n” he added, opening his apartment’s door and letting you in with a hand gesture. you went inside, not for the first time ever, but every time the feeling was the same, intimidating and cold. 

“why do you think that?” you said, taking off your shoes and putting them on a rack, and turning around to see him navigate you to the bathroom. you placed your bag and the gift on the floor before following his steps. 

“didn’t you see the match? i fucked up big time” he chuckled ironically, looking at himself in the mirror, and you could witness the disappointment and anger in his eyes. 

“so every time you guys win and you get the credit, you say that volleyball is a team sport, but if you loose, suddenly it’s your fault?” you smirked, but to your surprise he nodded. 

“precisely”. 

“well, regardless, it’s a minor set back. you’re still the best they make” you tried to cheer him up, but only received an eye roll in return. “aaaand, you’re a birthday boy today!”

“don’t remind me” he sighed, walking over to the kitchen to see what he can make for dinner for himself and his uninvited guest, meanwhile you grabbed your gift and walked up right behind him, tapping his shoulder lightly. 

“happy 21″ you whispered, a slight, soft smile on your lips, as you handed him the package. he looked at you with a tired look in his eyes. 

“you know i’m not the biggest fan of gifts” 

“just open it, grumpy face” you whined, and he gently took it from you, placing it on the counter and carefully unwraping it, to see a thermal mug. he sent you a questioning look, before you explained “you were complaining about not having enough time to drink coffee before leaving, right? well now you don’t have to drink it before leaving” 

there was silence for a long while before he looked up from the mug and gave you the softest smile you’ve ever seen. “that’s so thoughtful of you” he said, and laughed a tiny bit, probably to cover his emotion, which obviously didn’t work “thank you.”

omi likes thoughtful gestures. 

over the second year of your friendship, as he and his career gained more recognition from the public, he was “forced”, as he’d reffer to it, to share such a personal information that is his birthday date. the managers always claimed that it’s not a big deal, that it’s just gonna be added to the oficial page and his wikipedia, but judging from the amount of gifts atsumu, bokuto and hinata always received, he had his reason to doubt that. 

and as it turned out, he was right. 

because starting from march 10th, his personal mailbox as well as the oficial MSBY’s mailbox has been FLOODED with different things that he really had no energy to go over. and so, he invited one of his best friends to help. 

so it was late at night on march 19th, and you were both sitting on the floor of his apartment, a mess of ripped wrapping paper all around you, loads of different stuff laying on the table, as you still had a lot of things to open. 

“what even is the point in sending presents to someone you’ve never met? i mean less to them than their neigbour’s dog and yet i’m the one getting gifts? this is messed up” he kept on complaining, opening another package. 

“it’s called being famous, sakusa-kun. you mean very much to people you’ve never met, because your journey to where you are now inspires them to keep going on their path until they reach their dreams” you said with a smile, confident it’ll ease his worries, but it didn’t. 

“don’t know if i consider being in the Jackals my dream, though”

“you mean, you don’t think being a key player in a division one team is not a dream come true?” you asked, shocked. 

“no, no, of course i think it is, i’d never thought i’d reach this far, but, there’s more things to be done, it’s not like i’m an accomplished person just yet” 

that, you found interesting. 

“really? than what are your dreams, sakusa?” you asked in a low voice, eyes fixed on his face, as he focused on reading a letter in his hands. 

“national team” he murmured “MVP, a golden medal, a legacy that goes beyond just me” he opened up as if it was nothing, as if he was talking about his grocery list “but that all wouldn’t mean a thing if i were there alone, though. i’ve received plenty awards and mvp’s over the few years that i played, but i guess what would really matter, and make everything else worth remembering, would be... having someone be proud of me, i guess”

you felt your heart getting soft and fuzzy at the confession, wanting to respond, before he handed you the note he was silently reading. 

“this is a poem, y/n, a POEM! what the hell, i don’t even understand what’s going on there” he whined, throwing his head back to rest on the couch seat, as you giggled, reading the note. 

“it’s nice” you said in a high-pitched tone, pushing down a laugh. 

“it’s too... sophisticated” he uttered, looking at you, a tired look in his eyes. “that’s my mother’s thing, to be sophisticated, i like simpler wishes, they’re easier to believe” 

omi doesn’t like fancy words.

you nodded, but before you could say anything, your phone rang, and both of you looked at the screen. the hour on display marked midnight, and as the alarm ranged, the words “omi’s b-day!!!” appeared on the screen. he smiled subconsciously, noticing how you always address him as “sakusa” or “sakusa-kun” but the notif in your phone stated “omi”. 

“looks like it’s the 20th already, birthday boy” you grinned, turning off the alarm. 

“don’t call me that, what am i, six or something?” 

you decided to ignore the comment, and smiled at him warmly before speaking, almost under your own breath:

“happy 22, sakusa. i wish you only to be here to hear me say happy 23 next year. and say so with pride.”

his eyes appeared foggy and glossy, but it was probably fault of poor lighting and tiredness. 

“why stop at 23?” he asked, before standing up, and offering you his hand to pick you up, too. 

omi likes very real wishes. 

over the third year of your friendship you became very close. ever since that night on his living room floor, both of you couldn’t wrap your minds about anything other than each other. neither of you oblivious idiots found out what it was about, but day after day and month after month it was harder and harder to spend time apart. 

before he could notice, sakusa always tried to find you in the crowd before serving, and that’s how he always used up most of his time. once, he even heard ushijima complain “how much longer are you going to take? be a man and beat me without your good luck charm!” 

his good luck charm, huh?

you kinda liked the sound of that. 

you also found yourself texting him every random thought that came to your head, sending pictures of everything, becasue you wanted to share as much of your life as possible, meeting up whenever you could and facetiming whenever you couldn’t. 

it all started to go downhill when atsumu, bokuto and hinata started noticing. noticing the way he’d smile at his phone, the way he’d wink, smile, tease, joke, speak, even the way his eyes wondered when left unfocused, and a dreamy look covered his vision. 

and they started to tease, and joke, and make his life all more difficult, just because “omi has a crush!”

because he didn’t. right? he didn’t have a crush on you, for sure, and it only annoyed him, how childish they were about it, how insufferable. they got on his nerves so bad that he stopped responding to all the messages, stopped smiling, joking around, and all, just to prove his point, 

his point he knew was no longer standing. 

and so atsumu would ask, after one of their practices, “hey omi, is your lucky charm picking you up? some birthday dinner, maybe?” he’d nudge his side with an elbow, raising his eyebrows. 

“i don’t know” he mumbled “and stop calling them that”. the brunette kept looking for something in his bag, just to avoid atsumu’s tiring, curious glance. 

“fine then, how about your significant other?” he continued teasing. it’s not like sakusa would hate that scenario, of course he wouldn’t, yet his mind kept spiraling - what if you came in and heard that? what if you assumed he was calling you that behind your back?

what if you didn’t feel the same?

“stop butting in my relationships for once, miya! how many times am i supposed to tell you i’m not in any way romantically involved with them? i don’t even like them that much!” he lied, straight in his best friend’s face, fed up with all the jokes and smirks behind his back, and judging from atsumu’s shocked expression, and the color running away from his face, it worked. 

“what, don’t you have anything to say to me now?” he kept going, before atsumu shook his head, and pointed behind kiyoomi’s back wordlessly. the spiker raised an eyebrow, turning around to see you, in the flash, eyes wide open, a tiny little package in your hands, wrapped so neatly in colorful paper, with a little bow tie at the top. 

even from a distance he could already half see, half imagine tears prickling your eyes before you smiled sadly, dropped the box from your hand and let it fall to the floor, and began walking out of the gym room. 

“no, no no, y/n, wait!” he started shouting out, but your ears seemed deaf to his pleas, as he ran up to the door you just walked through, leaving atsumu alone, but with a condescending smile. 

“i don’t like them that much my ass, omi-kun” he whispered to himself before walking over to grab his things. 

meanwhile sakusa ran out to the reception room of the stadium, but as it turned out, it was filled with fans waiting for them all to come out, so they could wish him happy birthday, and it seemed impossible to get through the crowd and reached you, especially considering you were already at the exit door. 

he looked around himself and noticed all the people, how many of them were there, and how close to him, and got paralyzed in place, wanting to move, or disappear, that’d be for the best, and yet he couldn’t even move one foot. 

soon enough he felt a hand on his shoulder, guiding him back inside, his savior apologizing to the public.

“sorry guys, we have one more thing to go through! he’ll be out shortly” atsumu laughed off, before closing the door and handing omi the gift you left. 

the spiker mindlessly opened it, only to find out a spotify code inside, put in between a glass frame. he took out his phone from the bag and scanned it with his app, gasping audiably when the page loaded. 

lay back in the arms of someone by smokie showed up on his screen, and a smile crawled up his lips before he remembered how badly he fucked this up a second ago. 

he narrowed his eyebrows before looking up to find the blond setter’s eyes. 

“atsumu” his friend’s eyes widened in surprise upon hearing his first name, instead of surname “is there a back exit from here?” 

atsumu miya smirked. 

“bet ya there is, mr i-fucked-up-big-time” he answered, theatrically offering his hand, before taking the lead. 

you on the other hand, came home peacefully, although hot tears were streaming silently down your cold cheeks as you entered the apartment’s door and looked at the calendar, showing the date of march 20th. in a sudden wave of aggression you ripped it off, knowing that there’s nothing to be so pressed about: he had no duty of feeling the same way towards you, why would you even expect it?

you went on with your day, ordering takeout for dinner, snuggling up on your couch and rewatching a series, not granting your thoughts access to yourself, and it was really going well, until you heard the doorbell ring. 

“nobody’s home” you yelled, assuming it was either atsumu or bokuto on their way to cheer you up, and they’ll probably let themselves in as soon as they hear your voice, but that didn’t happen. instead, the doorbell kept on ringing. “ugh, just come in!” 

they didn’t come in, so you lifted yourself off the couch and walked over to the door, opening it and gasping a tiny bit when instead of your dumbass friends holding McDonald’s you saw a one hundred and ninety two centimeters tall figure of a man, struggling to catch his breath, leaning on your doorframe, his black coat unbuttoned, cheeks red, eyes puffy and hair in a mess, not even gelled into place as they always are. 

“can i help you?” you asked in a cold manner, voice sending daggers into his poor, confused heart, as he finally looked up to meet your glance, an apologetic look in his eyes when he tried to form a sentence. 

“i think i can... no, way, i think i might...” he kept struggling, to which you only rolled your eyes, waiting for the continuation of that sentence. 

“spit it out, sakusa” you stated, sending shivers down his spine with how annoyed you seemed. 

yeah, spit it out, sakusa, he thought to himself before taking a breath and finally speaking up correctly:

“i think i might be in love with you.” 

your eyes widened for a second as you tried to find evidence of honesty in his expression, tone, voice, because you definitely didn’t believe his words. 

his heart dropped when you scoffed. 

“i don’t need your pity” 

that’s when it hit him:

omi doesn’t like to spend his birthday without you. you make it not only bearable, but fun. 

in fact, he never wanted to spend it without you again. and as that realization made it’s way into his brain, he caught you closing your door. 

“i respect you too much to pity you” he spat out as he placed his hand in between the door and the frame, making you unable to close it, even if you wanted to. 

and there was the honesty you looked for. 

“then why—” you started to wonder, but he shook his head before interrupting, a helpless look across his face.

to lay back in the arms of someone

“i’m afraid of... of this, okay? i’m afraid of falling in love, if this is any explanation for you. it’s like... you make me feel as if i’m on the top of the world” he laughed nervously, making you raise your eyebrows, before continuing “and it’s fucking scary to imagine falling from that high” 

you give in to the charms of someone

his glance wondered all over your face to find crumbs of understanding, scared you’d laugh his confession off, a grimace of worry replacing the insecure smile painting his lips, and he was just one step away from shouting “i’m telling the truth!” at you, but you cut him off by opening your door fully, and welcoming him inside with a warm smile on your lips, and a reassuring sentence on your tongue.

happy 23rd, kiyoomi

“i think i might love you back”

omi likes feeling loved. 

the next year flew by on both of you pushing each other’s limits, challenging each other like the both of you always needed, being there for each other, finding out how nice it feels to have someone there. it was coming home with a sore throat after a night of yelling “one more point, omi-omi!”. it was carefully intertwining your pinkies together while shopping without even realizing. it was awkward dates, because the label “date” always changes the atmosphere. it was taking weird selfies, it was having to part for out-of-town games and facetiming from hotel rooms. it was butterflies in the stomach and a ball of fluff in mind. 

it was everything. 

the first year of your official relationship flew by in no time, kiyoomi finding new joy in his birthday since now it was really a day to be remembered, marking your anniversary. 

and just as you got home to his apartment after dinner, ready to unpack all the fanmail once again, the janitor of the building stopped you. 

“sakusa-san, there was a flower delievery for you” he sighed, going towards a locked shelf and coming back with a bouquet, at which kiyoomi stared for a whole five seconds before you decided to take it. 

“thank you for taking care of it” he muttered with a slight bow, you pushing him to go up the stairs. “who’s it from?” he’d ask you a minute later, halfway through the staircase. 

“don’t you wanna check yourself?” you asked, but he frantically shook his head. 

“check it for me, please”

omi doesn’t like flowers.

you nodded wordlessly before checking a card. 

“well if i’m not mistaken this is your surname” you furrowed, struggling to read the handwriting. in your defense, the kanji for “sakusa” are quite complicated. 

he looked over at the text before admitting “yeah, that’s from my aunt, she insists on sending those ever since i got into MSBY” he finally got to his door to unlock it “kinda sad how she didn’t even bother writing a text before” he chuckled, making you want to throw the flowers away. 

you knew he considered them worthless if that’s the story behind the nice gesture. 

the apartment door remained opened, but he didn’t enter, you almost stumbled over him, focusing on the note, and glanced over to see what caught him attention and prevented him from going inside. 

“this is your surname, for a change” he stated, showing you a buffy envelope over his shoulder, but didn’t let you take it when you tried. instead he opened it himself, a neatly wrapped package inside, with a note at the top:

i wore glowes making it! i swear!

there was a typo in gloves, and the writing style could use a little work on it, but that didn’t affect kiyoomi at all, as he was hypnotized with his package after noticing your surname on it. he carefully opened it, to find a keychain, made from cubes, as the ones used in different boardgames, on every one there was a letter or a number, together forming the writing “kiyoomi 15″ with a heart at the end. it was all on a black string, and almost shined with how many times it was wiped before sending. after holding it in his hand for a while, he noticed another card at the bottom of the package, taking it out and reading out loud:

“please take care of my sibling. happy 24th!” he uttered in sheer amazement, as he grazed his fingers over the delicate ornament, before wordlessly going inside the apartment. 

you followed him, closing the door behind you, worried about his reaction about your little sibling’s present, only to find him crouching before his couch, his training bag laying there as he tried to attach the keychain to the it’s zipper, smiling when he managed to do so. 

before he got to turn around to face you, you managed to take a photo of him smiling at the newest addition to his training gear, and send it to your family with a caption:

omi likes personalized stuff. 

over all the years of knowing kiyoomi, you’ve learnt so much about him, his life, his habits, everything. you knew him inside and out, and so he knew you. you’re laughing at your confusion and fear while you were buying his first birthday gift, as you sit on the floor in your shared apartment, plotting his 25th, biggest yet gift, as if he isn’t about to walk through the door, coming back from practice. 

it’s almost ridiculous, how you struggled, wondering if he’d even like a gift, when right now you have a whole list in mind:

although omi doesn’t like gifts, he likes little thougtful gestures. he doesn’t like fancy big words, but likes real, honest wishes he can really take to heart. he doesn’t like spending his birthday without you, he likes feeling love, doesn’t like flowers, but does like his gifts personalized and touching. 

you realize all the moments in your relationship made you know his every emotion and expression, but you’ve never seen your precious boyfriend cry, ever. 

and you decide to change that. 

you’re gonna make him something that’s gonna mask all the memories of his birthday being forgotten, walked pass by, pushed into the back, and not properly celebrated. that’s gonna outshine every single gift he’s ever got. that’s gonna make him so happy, he’ll cry.

an idea pops into your head as you get a pen and start writing. 

dear kiyoomi,

_______

“dear kiyoomi” you get to hear him say a couple of nights later, he reads it out on your plea, with a smile across his lips, as you, atsumu, bokuto, meian and hinata, as well as omi’s older siblings and komori and osamu sit at the table, a cake and two traces of his favorite cupcakes are taking all the space possible.

omi’s voice is colored with a couple of glasses of wine, so it’s easier to him to relax and genuinely grin at the paper as he’s reading, all part of your plan. 

“when i first met you, the first thing i found out is that you’re a private person. not that i was freaked out or anything, but you did have, and probably you still do, a heavy aura around you that may have flustered me a tiny little— a tiny little bit? smiles, your hands literally shivered” he stopped to comment, making you roll your eyes at him.

“zip it and keep reading, birthday boy”

“... a tiny little bit, i agree. nevertheless, the first thing i actually felt, was that you striked my soul as someone weird. thanks, baby” he interrupted again, but you urged him to keep reading. “... weird in a way that made me feel like i’ve never felt before, the kind of safe and terrified at the same time. terrified of what, you might ask? well, kiyoomi, here i’d like to quote you. you once told me that me loving you is like i had the power to break you, and you loving me back was like giving me a map with all the points to strike at. well if that’s the definition of love we’re going for here, than i not only give you a map, i’ll grant you a whole GPS. the trust you put in me every day to not take advantage of what you’ve given me is inspiring, and hence, i surrender every single point of ressistance i’ve held against you, i’m yours to snap at a wish, and trusting you that you won’t do it is something i can spend my life believing in.” 

at this point kiyoomi had to stop and take a deep breath and a sip of his wine before continuing, clearing his throat a bit, chocking back his emotion. 

“... throughout my years by your side, i’ve memorized everything there is to memorize about you and gifts. you generally aren’t a fan, but you like them carrying a lot of thought, dedication, you like them meant exactly to you and to you only. you don’t want pointless blabbing and overused sentences, you enjoy sincerity. you need love radiating from them in order to truly acknowledge them as something special. now, the last thing i know is that you don’t like flowers, but i hope you won’t be too angry with me and with what i’ve prepared for you. enjoy, signed, your smiles” he finished, looking up at you, already moving towards the counter, grabbing a bouquet from behind it. 

he watched in amazement as you handed it to him, taking it in his hands, realizing that- 

it was a bouquet of origami flowers. 

“please, y/n, this is so—” he tried to find the right words, but once again, nothing came to mind as he watched your careful work from every side possible. 

“shh, there’s a special thing to them” you explained, sitting back in your seat, exactly in a straight line from him, watching every single change in his expression as he tried to find what you meant. 

he realized every flower had a little card sticking out from it’s center, and pulled the first one, the closest one to him. 

“the first reason i love you” he read in a weak voice, chuckling nervously again before he found the courage to read it out loud “you make me feel protected” 

he looked up at you with such a gentle and caring note in his eyes that you almost didn’t want to encourage him to keep reading it, but you did. 

“two. you don’t smile too much” after that he raised an eyebrow, but read the next one “three. ...but when you do, you outshine the sun itself. four. you memorized my coffee order within the first two times we’ve been to a caffee. five. you got supplies to redo my coffee order without going to the— hey i swear i didn’t mean anything bad by it!” 

“that’s literally the reason they love you for, idiot” atsumu laughed, urgining him to keep reading with a hand gesture. “come on, this is adorable”

“six. you have a playlist with songs that remind you of me. yes, i know this, omi, we share a spotify account. seven. you claim you don’t like interacting with people, but let a little girl propose to you with a cereal ring in the park.”

“this is too cute, omi is a softie” bokuto whined, hiding his face in his hands, but sakusa only slapped them off. 

“am not. eight. you keep a mental score of all the times you won over ushijima. nine. you take way too much pride in beating atsumu in service aces”

“true that!” atsumu shouted, hiding behind his glass. 

“ten” sakusa shook his head. “you don’t enjoy PDA, yet gave me the kiss of the century when i met your mother, just to annoy her. eleven. your childhood photos are too cute. twelve. you blasted hopelessly devoted to you the morning after we— i’m not reading that, idiot!” he half laughed half whined, in a high-pitched voice. 

“omi-san knows how it’s done, apparently” hinata wheezed, komori accompanying him. 

“did i ask?” he rolled his eyes and went back to picking lines from the flowers. “thirteen, you tug the corner of my sleeves when you’re stressed in public. fourteen, you have me saved in your phone as your good luck charm. fifteen. you put my head on your chest when i can’t sleep at night, to calm me down. sixteen. you make me laugh when i’m sad. seventeen. you almost never intent to make me laugh, yet always do. eighteen. you always make sure i’m carrying all the emergency items all me at all times. nineteen. you make me call you when i get home from a party, if you aren’t there to pick me up. twenty, you always insist on picking me up from wherever i am, because you’re worried about me. i mean yeah, what kind of a boyfriend would i be if i weren’t?” he genuinely asked, half of the guest shaking their heads. 

“come on, five more to go, you adorable, clueless idiot” motoya pat his back and looked over his shoulder to see your careful handwriting, before sakusa hid the message from him. 

“twenty one. you make me not worry about my future. twenty two, you try to do all your little morning rituals in advance when you leave, so i don’t miss you too much. i still do. twenty three, you’re never afraid to be bluntly honest with me. twenty four, you always ask if you can hug me when i’m low or crying. and twenty five—” he stopped more suddenly than anywhere before, eyes visibly watering before he dropped his head down and his it in his arms. 

“what’s on there?” several guys asked over themselves, as omi kept laughing slightly, hiding tears in the sleeves of his fitted shirt. 

“you’re gonna be the death of me” he murmured into the material, making everyone laugh, including you, who decided to walk over to him and hug him, resting your head on his, taking advantage of the fact that he was sitting and you could reach it. 

after a moment of weakness, he showed his red and slightly puffy face, two trails of tears fitting his smiling expression as he struggled to say 

“twenty five. you make me prouder and prouder every day.” he kept laughing through his tears, really trying to hide his emotion and failing miserably. “you really did try to make me cry on my birthday, didn’t you?” he looked up to you still embracing him. 

“i suppose i did”

“well then, i’m gonna outshine you” he said, shifting in his seat in order to get up, wiping the last remains of tears from his face. 

“what do you mean?” you asked, met with his confident smirk. 

“you’re gonna see in a bit, trust me” he huffed, dusting off his pants’ material on the knee level, and reaching over to his pocket, in his hand a tiny, little box. 

with a little more than an origami flower.