#so if you're still here thank you and congrats on the nuance

[fandom-hoarder]

Listen--

I don't follow/unfollow/block people according to fandom pressure and behavior control. I curate my experience for me. I don't have to agree with every blogger's opinions just to follow their blog. I just have to like enough of their content and opinions that a bad one or disagreement here and there don't spoil my experience.

And sure, it's nice to have followers that enjoy the experience of my blog. It's nice to be appreciated for my writing and the outward portrayal of my personality and aesthetic. But also, my blog is first and foremost for me. And my dash is ONLY for me.

So, for example, when it comes to accounts that are hyper-critical about a character or an actor, the biggest deciding factors are going to be: if they're harrassing the real life person, if their criticism/opinion puts me off, and if they have other posts I'm into.

My bff of 30+ years HATES Sasuke with a fiery passion, yet that doesn't stop me loving her or beta reading her fanfiction where horrible things happen to a character I love or indulging her hate when she needs to go off. I loved Sakura AND shipped SasuNaru in a fandom that often hates the girls for the sake of their yaoi ship. I spent years being a Kikyou AND Kagome defender, in a fandom notorious back in the forum days for its rabid fans (RIFs), where they are pitted against each other in awful ways for ship wars. I ship McLennon and like Yoko. Believe me when I say that some perfectly understandable post-prequelgate feelings about Jensen are not enough to shame me away from following an account.

The things that are instant block material are: being a terf (not from accusations alone; i have to see it myself), purity culture, and harassment. Otherwise it's all about the nuance of what I'm fine with seeing on my dash and scrolling past.

And I need a little salt in my diet. 🤷‍♀️

[martymusesloveinexile]

Congrats!!! You're a brilliant author. ❤️ Can I request more drabbles on domesticity or family life after ending of LIE? It's an amazing ending but I'm greedy for more. 😁 Thank you very much for your awesome writing. 💖

Hehe. Here you go! Some post-LIE domestic family time. 

“Shou-chan, put that down!”

The sound of small feet followed by large feet on the tatami behind the sliding door makes me raise an eyebrow.

Mari and I exchange a glance and simultaneously take a lazy drag on our pipes. The feet go by again and she grins, letting her smoky breath out in a white stream from the corner of her mouth. I let mine out more slowly through my nose, letting the smoke hang in the crisp air.

There is a light hoarfrost covering every leaf and stone of the garden. I tuck my feet a bit more snugly under the quilted blanket over my lap. She pulls her haori a bit tighter around herself. We cock our heads, listening to what is happening beyond the screen.

“Shou-chan! Listen to Oji-chan when he talks to you. Come here, and give that to me. I’m not chasing you for fun! That’s dangerous.”

There is a squealing laugh and the drum of little feet intensifies as they hurry past the door again. Yuuri’s steps follow.  

“Oji-chaaan?” A tiny, muffled voice joins the cacophony of footsteps.

“What is it? I’m trying to catch your brother. When did you get up from your nap?”

“Oji-chan, peepee.”

“You have to go peepee, or-” there is banging sound and then a sudden, dolorous wailing. “Shou-chan, I told you stop running around! See, I told you you’d get hurt!”

Mari’s eyebrow quirks upwards, but she doesn’t get up. She takes another drag. “It’s strangely cathartic listening to someone else deal with my children.”

I chuckle, smoke escaping between my teeth as I exhale. “Are you sure it’s alright to leave them alone with Yuuri?”

She grins. “He sounds like he’s doing about as well as I usually do.”

The door slides back with a bang. “Hora! You think I can’t hear you two sitting out here doing nothing?”

I crane my neck back to look at Yuuri standing in the doorway, Shoutarou under his arm and wailing. He glares at me and then takes one step forward, just enough to deposit Shoutarou into my lap.

“Here. Calm him down. He almost poked his own eyes out running around with hashi.”

Shoutarou looks at me and starts screaming even louder. Even at close to two years of age he still cries almost every time he sees me. “Why give him to me?” I protest. “He cries just from looking at me.”

Mari chuckles. “Don’t feel too bad, Victor. He does that to his own father. It’s not personal.”

I give her a skeptical look and try to soothe Shoutarou even as he squirms in my lap. Mikuko, rubbing sleep from her eyes and looking quite demure appears behind Yuuri’s legs, gently grasping the fabric of his yukata. “Oji-chan, peepee,” she repeats, looking up at Yuuri.

Yuuri looks at Mari expectantly. “Your daughter needs to use the toilet.”

“She’s telling you about it, not me,” Mari drawls, languidly exhaling a puff of smoke.

They stare at each other in that way only siblings can stare at each other. Finally Mari sighs and gives in, grunting as she stands and stretches. “Ugh, this cold is making me stiff.” She holds out her hand to her daughter. “Come on, Miku-chan. Kaa-chan will take you.”

The little girl glances up at Yuuri for a moment and then reaches out to take her mother’s hand. “Ok.” They step back inside and slide the door shut behind them.

Yuuri sits down next to me in a huff, pulling the blanket over his lap. Shoutarou has given up on wailing at the top of his lungs and just makes unhappy sounds as he weakly struggles against the unfairness of life, ending up draped forlornly over both or our thighs as I pull the blanket up around him.

“I think somebody is tired,” I say.

“Nooo...” Shoutarou wails softly in response.

“Well, somebody didn’t want to take a nap. Somebody wanted to run around with hashi and bang into the oki-gotatsu,” Yuuri says with a sigh, reaching down to smooth his nephew’s hair back from his forehead where there is a noticeable red bump.

I chuckle softly as I look at Yuuri. It’s been a year and a half since we came to Hasetsu. It’s hard to believe our third winter together is already well under way. My Japanese is good enough now that I can carry on a conversation. Some of the nuances still evade me, but I get by without offending anyone most of the time.

When alone Yuuri and I still speak primarily in Russian. More for sentimental reasons than anything else, I suspect. I still love to hear his voice speaking my language in his soft, faint accent. And I love to whisper sweet words in his ear I know no one else can understand.

Since it’s the off season and Shoutarou is no longer an infant, Mari has been visiting with her children more frequently this winter. It makes things lively, but neither Yuuri nor I have any experience with children so young. Though I personally think Yuuri is very good with them. And seeing him with Mikuko, who in my opinion resembles her uncle very strongly, fills me with a kind of melancholy sweetness.

I watch him idly stroke Shoutarou’s head as the little boy fights a losing battle with sleep. “Do you regret that we won’t have children?” I ask the question before I realize I’m asking it.

Yuuri looks startled nd stares at me for a moment. “I... never really thought about it. I can’t say I ever really wanted children.”

“Oh,” I frown softly. “You seem very good with them.”

He lifts his brows. “What about you?”

I shrug. “I raised Yuri. I think I am alright with just that. Living in katorga I never planned to get married or have children. It seemed unfair.”

Yuuri chuckles and tips his head against my shoulders. I take another drag on my pipe. “Well, then it seems like we’re both content with things just the way they are. I love Miku-chan and Shou-chan, but eventually they leave with Mari. I think I like it that way.”

I grin as I exhale. “That’s good. I would hate to think I have robbed you of something you wanted.”

He lifts his head and looks me in the eyes. “Victor. You have given me everything I have ever wanted.”

I flush in spite of myself and when our lips touch, I find that the thrill of kissing him is as strong as the day I made him that first promise.