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pearlsandpemberly · 8 months ago

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p1: if i'm losing a piece of me (how do i get to heaven) - miya atsumu x sakusa kiyoomi

Summary:

Atsumu knows what it means to be gay. And Atsumu knows he's going to be fine. But when he meets Kiyoomi, Atsumu discovers that he knows nothing and that he will not be fine at all.

Genre: Angst, Romance

POV: Third Person

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55297099/chapters/140278588

Notes: this story surrounds a lot of religious settings and content; it's vague (non-specific Christian denomination) and will not completely and accurately encompass the experience of growing up religious and queer. Religious talk is light, but it's there, so please read at your own discretion.

Part 1 - Part 2

Chapter 1: before

Atsumu knows what it means to be gay.

He knows that, from a young age, whenever his father would talk about his future wife, that a wife is his only option.

He knows that the word ‘homosexual’ is to be said clinically and in hushed tones, like one is speaking in an oncology ward.

He knows the slew of harsher words that can be used that he will never say because they cut on his tongue.

He knows that when a girl had gone missing from church for almost two months that her parents hadn’t uttered a word to the teenagers or children, only speaking to the adults about ‘success rates’ and things ‘being for the best’.

He knows what it all means. And Atsumu knows that he will be fine.

But when he meets Kiyoomi, Atsumu discovers that he knows nothing and that he will not be fine at all.

The Sakusa family are new, sitting three pews behind the Miyas, and the son sits closest to the aisle. His back is straight and his hands are rigid in his lap. His hair is dark and curly, though someone has made an effort to tame it. There are several moles at the base of his neck, stark against his pale skin.

Atsumu can’t stop staring until his mother taps the back of his head.

When they pray, Atsumu rests his chin on his clasped hands, but this time keeps his eyes slightly open; he cranes his neck around to see the son only slightly bow his head, eyes barely shut. When everyone stands to leave at the end of the service, Atsumu watches the Sakusas stand and notes that the son is slightly taller than him, too.

He meets the son at the next church event.

Atsumu’s talking away at his brother until he zeros in on the lone teenager standing in the corner, hands in pockets. Osamu notices him too but doesn’t seem too bothered. “Leave him be,” he says, tugging his twin’s wrist. “By the looks of him, he probably won’t enjoy your company.”

It’s a one in two chance that Atsumu will listen to Osamu – this time, he doesn’t.

Walking over with a ton of unearned confidence, Atsumu comes to a stop in front of the stranger. “Nice to meet you,” he says, extending a hand the way his father taught him to. “I’m Atsumu – the priest’s son.”

Dark eyes seem to scan him up and down – he makes no effort to move his own hands. “Kiyoomi,” he eventually replies. His mouth barely moves, like the name had been pulled from him involuntarily. Atsumu turns and sees a tall dark-haired woman staring pointedly at the pair.

Atsumu’s hand falls back to his side. “Well, it’s good to have you here. You live close by?”

He’s being watched and the back of his neck grows hot as Kiyoomi’s eyes bore into him, refusing to satisfy him with an answer. Atsumu notices the two moles dotted above his right eyebrow.

Eventually, Kiyoomi opens his mouth and Atsumu raises an eyebrow.

“Is your hair supposed to be that colour?”

Heat floods in his cheeks as Atsumu touches the top of his head. “Yeah,” is his defiant, slightly defensive answer. “Got sick of people not being able to tell me and Samu apart. That’s him.” He gestures in a vague direction, knowing that Osamu will be there. Kiyoomi’s head turns and, sure enough, there he is. “He wishes he was as cool as me.”

Kiyoomi’s expression barely shifts, but it’s enough to make Atsumu start to back away. “Guess I’ll see you Sunday,” he mutters.

He trudges away, silently sulking as he returns to his brother’s side. “Told ya,” Osamu laughs when Atsumu relays the brief conversation, wincing when Atsumu lands a kick on his ankle.

Kiyoomi starts going to their high school as well, and Atsumu always manages to place him during lunch.

He eats alone, sometimes curled up with a book but mostly choose to stare at the space in front of him. He tries his best never to touch anything more than he has to. He’s motionless for the forty minutes, only on occasion flexing his wrists and fingers, perhaps to pass the time.

Atsumu doesn’t make the mistake of approaching him; it’s not as easy as it used to be when they were in elementary school.

The only class they share is maths, but they’re at opposite ends of the room. Kiyoomi’s good, though he doesn’t make any noise about it. He doesn’t talk to anyone in there either.

They share most of the route home too, but Kiyoomi’s always far enough ahead that the chance of them catching each other organically is next to none. Atsumu makes conversation with his friends and Osamu with ease, but he’s always aware of when Kiyoomi turns left five minutes away from the Miya household.

Their next proper run-in is at the youth group.

The twins take turns leading the children whilst the deacon leads the teenagers. Atsumu doesn’t mind because he and his brother can quote scripture like others can quote song lyrics and have had the teachings imprinted on their brains since birth. Kiyoomi is a new face there too, expressionless as usual, but he partakes with practised ease. His eyes occasionally flit over to watch Atsumu spin in a circle with a hoard of kids, laughing at the top of his lungs.

When it comes to an end, Osamu complains that Atsumu isn’t helping enough with the cleaning, but Atsumu isn’t listening because he sees Kiyoomi turn away and walk towards the doors.

Without much thought, Atsumu is quick on his heels when Kiyoomi exits the community centre. “Hey!”

He turns around and his shoulders only seem to raise more as Atsumu skids to a halt in front of him. “You know, we’re gonna be heading your way too,” he says, slightly breathless as he puts his hands on his hips. “Samu won’t be too long.”

Another look up and down. “I wouldn’t have pegged you to be the priest’s son,” says Kiyoomi, a slight intrigue betraying his stoicism. “Aren’t you supposed to be somewhat controlled?”

Atsumu puts his hands up in surrender. “Hey, whatever gets the kids engaged,” he replies. “Perhaps you would prefer to do some colouring in of all of Noah’s animals – it’ll get that stick out of your ass.”

Kiyoomi raises his eyebrows and his mouth twitches – a smile? No, it’s a grimace. “You can’t sing, can you? Because you act like the bratty kid that never made it to be a choirboy.”

Atsumu’s splutter is cut off by a slap on his back; Osamu is by his side, shooting a look between the two. “Tsumu, you can’t bully people into being your friend. Nor can you leave me and Father Sato to clear up all on our own.”

Atsumu’s ready to make a case that he definitely can and absolutely will, but Kiyoomi has already started walking away.

He’s in a foul mood the entire time they’re stacking chairs and closing curtains. Osamu mocks him for the fact that Kiyoomi got it right that Atsumu had been as good as banned from ever singing in the church choir, and it makes Atsumu stew even more.

At each youth group session, Atsumu vows to be even more enthusiastic than the last. At each session, Kiyoomi flashes him at least one glare.

They seem to reach an impasse.

Each slightly emotive reaction Atsumu draws from Kiyoomi is a victory. Each time Kiyoomi leaves him stunned by an insult is a loss. Atsumu doesn’t even really know what he’s trying to prove, but he’s doesn’t want to stop; the attention is new and exciting.

But when Atsumu’s walking back to his home after running an errand and he sees a crop of black curls hunched over on a bench in the nearby park, the desire to win dissipates when he approaches and sees the misery twisting Kiyoomi’s features.

His original plan vanishes from his mind as he takes a seat next to him. “You alright?”

Kiyoomi barely glances in his direction, fingers tightening around his upper arms. “Been better.”

A genuine response – that’s something else new.

There are many things that Atsumu is good at, talking being one of them, but this time he chooses not to speak. He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he clasps his hands together. The sun is beginning to set and the pinks and oranges and red blend together beautifully. Both of the teenagers’ gazes flit up to watch the colours slowly change, night approaching as it always does.

The time makes Atsumu’s feet itch, but Kiyoomi opens his mouth, silencing any excuse he had been preparing.

“How are you able to trust God?”

Atsumu blinks. “Huh?”

Kiyoomi presses his lips together, and although the light has mostly gone, Atsumu swears he can see his cheeks darken slightly. “What if you’re following every step to the letter – doing everything right that’s in your power – and yet, things still fall short? How can I trust God and His plan if it seems like His plan is the path leading me to…” He shuts his mouth again, tightly.

It’s a quiet plea.

Atsumu turns the questions over in his mind, prolonging a silence that is filled with Kiyoomi’s quickened breaths. The pious preachy lines spring up automatically, but for once, Atsumu doesn’t reach for it. He dares to glance to the boy next to him and for a moment he’s rendered speechless looking at Kiyoomi’s unhappy expression.

“It’s all about faith,” Atsumu finally manages to say, the words clunky in his mouth. “We have faith in Him, even though we can’t see Him. So, when things aren’t going well, we put our faith on the promise that God is leading us in the right direction, even if it takes us on some strange deviations. But…”

He trails off because Kiyoomi is now looking at him and Atsumu is suddenly staring into the abyss. He’s lost, locked in on the softness that he’s never been close enough to notice before, and Kiyoomi is staring straight back.

In the dark, he’s a wonderous sight.

“But you have to have faith in yourself,” continues Atsumu, voice softer, and he lets himself smile. “Because you’re still trying, aren’t you? Chips will fall where they may, but you can’t knock yourself for trying.”

Kiyoomi stares at him for a long time, longer than he’s done before. He blinks slowly and swallows.

“You aren’t the one planning on taking over from your father, are you?”

Atsumu blinks – and then he laughs, leaning forward and touching his forehead to his hands. “Oh, he picked Samu from the moment we were able to talk.”

The corner of Kiyoomi’s mouth twitches and he lets out a deep breath. “Figures.”

They stay there a little longer, talking and teasing back and forth. Mother berates him when Atsumu eventually walks through the front door, but he barely hears her.

Roping Kiyoomi into stupid conversations after youth group isn’t too harmful, even though Kiyoomi finds every opportunity to bolt when Atsumu is distracted. Walking home with Kiyoomi after school isn’t too awful, even though Kiyoomi tends to avoid it like the plague. Being friends with Kiyoomi isn’t too terrible, even though Kiyoomi wouldn’t dare even call them that.

But when Atsumu gets on his knees to begin his nightly prayer and Kiyoomi’s face appears in his mind to interrupt the flow, Atsumu’s eyes snap open, pausing before starting over.

When Atsumu dreams and Kiyoomi appears with a smile that he’s never seen, Atsumu wakes with a start, sweat accumulating under his arms.

When Atsumu sees Kiyoomi and his heart rate picks up without his permission, Atsumu frowns, earning a frown back if Kiyoomi catches him.

But it’s not until he’s taking deep breaths, willing his morning erection away, when the thought of Kiyoomi saying his name for the first time makes it strain against his underwear, does Atsumu have the horrible realisation that there may be a problem.

When Atsumu enters the church, he almost has a heart attack when he sees Kiyoomi at in the front row, staring at the stained glass.

He’s not praying – not obviously, anyway – and doesn’t turn when the heavy wooden door closes. With caution, Atsumu walks down the aisle and comes to a stop by Kiyoomi’s side, glancing down at him.

“Trying to find some reprieve?”

Kiyoomi doesn’t take his eyes off the crucified Son and the weeping Mary Magdalene. “I suppose.”

“Come with me, then.”

Surprisingly, Kiyoomi follows him without question, traipsing up stone steps and around the inner workings of the bell tower until they reach the top. The open spring air hits their faces as the view of their town stretches out in front of them, the sun only just peeking out from behind the clouds. He watches as Atsumu sits himself down on a stone ledge near one of the glassless windows, the sparse rays only just touching his poorly bleached hair.

Atsumu pats the ledge. Kiyoomi sits, leaving two metres between them.

“It’s nicer up here,” Atsumu says, looking back out to the sky. “People are always coming and going downstairs, so it’s harder to think. Plus, the choir sound lovely from here too.”

Kiyoomi brings his knees to his chest, his long legs awkwardly bent. “I can imagine,” he replies, looking down to his feet. “This place is nicer than my last church.”

Atsumu glances his way quickly. “Oh yeah? What was it like?”

He’s being careful – Kiyoomi doesn’t talk a lot about his life before now, and neither do his parents. And, Atsumu’s learned, he doesn’t take well to personal questions. Like with a skittish animal, Atsumu tries his hand at patience, letting Kiyoomi approach him, but sometimes he slips.

Today, however, it doesn’t seem to matter too much.

“Bigger – very white. It was always clean, which was good, but its ceiling was just a bit too high. And everyone knew everything somehow, despite there being so many of us. It was unnerving.” Kiyoomi swallows. “Also the candleholders were always clogged up with dried wax, and that drove me crazy – like, that’s the one thing that isn’t so hard to maintain.”

A quiet chuckle rumbles in Atsumu’s throat. “Of course you would concern yourself about something so inane, Omi.”

The glare that comes his way only makes him laugh louder, mostly because it looks like Kiyoomi is trying to convince himself that he hates the nickname rather than him convincing Atsumu to stop calling him it. “It’s the first thing they get the youngest alter boys to worry about after the service is over,” he decides to say.

“Oo, now that’s some hard trauma right there – you would command with such an iron fist as a priest?”

“It’s basic housekeeping.”

“Oh Omi, I almost don’t want to tell you how often this place gets a deep clean.”

Kiyoomi stiffens. “How – you know what, I’m coming around to the idea that ignorance is bliss.”

“Really truly. Trust me, you don’t want to know some of the things that have gone down in these hallowed halls.”

“That doesn’t help me at all.”

“That’s the kind of thing that’s supposed to get you all curious and want to know the gossip.”

“I’ve had my fill.”

There’s a finality to that. Atsumu changes tack. “Don’t you go crazy without any sisters or brothers around anymore?”

He gets another glowering look and Atsumu remembers that Kiyoomi’s never directly told him that he has siblings – another case of everyone in a community like this knowing everything. “Not really – they were already teenagers when I was born, and my sister left home when I was eight, so it being just me is all I really know.”

“Man. I couldn’t imagine not having Samu around.”

“Of course you couldn’t, he’s your twin – completely different thing.” Kiyoomi rests his chin on his arm, looking back out of the tower. “What’s it like?” he asks, voice slightly muffled.

Atsumu smiles, fondness blossoming in his chest. “He’s my best friend,” he says simply. “Having someone who knows how to push all your buttons, but also knows you better than you know yourself without trying…I’d take a bullet for him any day, and we’d probably end up fighting over who saved who first.”

“And you’ll always love him, no matter what?”

It would be a stupid question if Kiyoomi didn’t sound so sad. Atsumu looks to him, and though he’s still looking away, he’s tensed up, as if he’s holding in a breath until he hears the answer.

With a gentleness that pulls at Atsumu’s core, he says: “until my last breath and the eternity after that.”

Kiyoomi sniffs and pulls his arms tighter around his knees. Atsumu notices he’s shivering.

“Cold?”

He huffs. “I’m always cold.”

Atsumu pauses, but he is already moving to stand, his shoulders shrugging off his jacket, his hands draping it over Kiyoomi as Kiyoomi twitches at the brief contact, eyes startled. Atsumu draws himself away quickly, going back to sit and stare out to the space outside the church, to stare at anything other than the person next to him.

He gets his jacket back after an hour when Kiyoomi gets up and leaves, placing it haphazardly on Atsumu’s lap before taking off back down the stairs with a short farewell. Atsumu puts it back on and slowly brings the collar to his nose, inhaling carefully.

The faintest smell of fabric softener fills his senses and Atsumu feels something crawling up the back of his neck as his eyes flutter shut.

Little things keep happening and Atsumu continues to convince himself that it’s nothing. Stolen glances, casual banter, quips and jokes, gentle advice – it’s all a part of a normal friendship, no different from the ones Atsumu already maintains.

But it is different.

“I’m telling you, Omi, tap water isn’t going to poison you.”

“That’s what you think, but you’re living proof that it will.”

“Do you just live to try and hurt me?”

“It’s becoming a decent pass time – nothing happens here.”

“Nothing happens to you because you don’t do anything. What’s the great plan, Omi – university?”

“Like I’d have a choice. But yes – Mother and Father will expect me to do medicine.”

“And that’s what you want too?”

“…”

“I’ll probably go to university too – local one. Theology.”

“And is that what you want?”

“…It’s what I know best.”

“But you’re not going to be your father.”

“Goodness, Omi, that’s something strong right there. Maybe not in the succession sense, but I won’t be straying away from priesthood.”

“May God have mercy on those poor souls.”

“I’ll have you know that my services will knock everyone’s socks off!”

“Not in the way you intend.”

“Omi, do you have any friends? Any at all? Because they have to be the most patient people in the entire world.”

“…”

“…Sorry –”

“My cousin.”

“Hm?”

“My cousin – my mother’s nephew. He’s my friend. He’s called Motoya.”

“Ah.”

“He kind of forced his way in there, probably by my parent’s request. But he’s a lot of fun. Really friendly – too friendly. Like you’d think it’s fake if it weren’t for how genuine he is.”

“You sure he’s your cousin?”

“It’s a surprise to me too. He’s probably the closest thing to an Osamu I have.”

“…I’m glad, Omi. You keep in touch?”

“…”

“…I’ve got to go.”

“Omi, I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to –”

“You didn’t do anything, Atsumu. It’s fine.”

“��Still. I’m sorry. You’ve got me, you know.”

“…”

“…I guess I do.”

“…”

“Gotcha to emote.”

“Please stop saying that.”

“What’s the matter, Omi-Omi, too –”

There’s never a right time to trip over one’s feet and hit the concrete, and Atsumu is mad that of all people, he had to do it in front of Kiyoomi.

But he turns and sees Kiyoomi cover his mouth because a smile is bubbling behind his fingers, which turns into a full blown laugh when Atsumu looks up at him with embarrassment and betrayal in his eyes, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. That uncontrolled grin, that rumbling chuckle, that slender hand that reaches out and pulls Atsumu up, touching him in a way that Atsumu hasn’t seen him touch anything or anyone before. Kiyoomi lets go as quickly as he grabs on, but it’s been done and Atsumu understands it’s not nothing.

And from the way Kiyoomi looks at his hand like he’s checking for burns, it’s not nothing for him either.

Things keep escaping Atsumu and he’s losing control.

And at the centre of it all is Kiyoomi Sakusa.

Every waking moment is consumed by thoughts of him and his hair and his hands and his face, of his voice and eyes and mouth. Every slight smile, every bit of warmth seeps into Atsumu’s mind and sticks there, unable to be washed away. He must see him, must catch his eye, must talk to him because if he doesn’t then Kiyoomi might vanish and go somewhere where Atsumu can’t find him.

Terror rules him now, a terror that is difficult to shake. The fear that one day his father will stop short and open his eyes, the day one of his friends pull back and look upon him with disgust, the day he will look in the mirror and have to confront the horrifying reality of the situation.

He tries hard to divert his attention elsewhere, but everyone is blurry, no matter how hard he tries to see them.

Kiyoomi is clear, sharp, and devastating and Atsumu cannot look away

But Atsumu starts to worry because Osamu notices.

His brother’s eyes follow him at every turn: during mealtimes, at school, in their shared bedroom. When he watches Atsumu talk to Kiyoomi, his expression becomes unreadable, which frightens Atsumu because that’s never happened before.

So, Atsumu tries to run into Kiyoomi less if he can help it, hoping that it will make Osamu’s face change and eyes go back to the way they were. Kiyoomi doesn’t seem to notice, but Atsumu does because it starts to physically pain him if he hasn’t spoken to Kiyoomi properly after several days. Then weeks start passing, and Atsumu is afraid to look at Kiyoomi because if he does, something terrible might happen, so, he doesn’t.

Osamu stays the same; Atsumu continues to worry.

They don’t talk about it, which is another unusual thing because Atsumu trusts Osamu with absolutely everything under the sun – except his problem. Because if he were to confide in him about it, about how Kiyoomi makes his mouth go dry and his head spin, Osamu most likely wouldn’t understand.

Or he’d understand all too well.

So, they don’t talk. Atsumu grows tense at the shoulders when he catches Osamu’s eye. Osamu continues to look at him blankly.

Things are beginning to run away from him.

Atsumu so desperately wants to run.

“You’re avoiding me.”

The quiet but steely accusation lashes from Kiyoomi. Atsumu keeps his eyes forward in spite of his heart thundering in his chest. He’s never been approached at school by Kiyoomi before – other students mill around them as the pair come to a standstill in the corridor.

Atsumu feels a set of eyes burning a hole in the back of his neck. “What’s your problem, Atsumu?” It’s quieter, more strained.

Atsumu sighs and turns around slowly, keeping his eyes down. “You.”

A whisper. It’s so empty that he’s convinced Kiyoomi doesn’t hear it over the bustle. He watches the ground.

“…What?”

“It’s you.” His voice is clearer but dangerously close to breaking. He dares to look up.

Kiyoomi jaw is clenched; all of his body is rigid, except for his eyes. Those dark pits that threaten to drown Atsumu, to pull him under until his breathing stops.

“Why?”

A cold frenzy twists in Atsumu’s stomach.

As if he doesn’t know. As if he doesn’t feel it too.

“Omi, I…I can’t do this. Not here, not now.” He looks around, watching out for prying eyes. “See you around.”

As Atsumu paces away, he doesn’t know when that will be.

He doesn’t turn to see Kiyoomi stuck in the same spot, watching him go.

Watching him run.

He misses him.

Fuck, he misses him.

Another month passes, and Atsumu misses him every day.

If Osamu wakes up to Atsumu climbing out of the window, he doesn’t indicate that he has.

Half four in the morning is a comfortable time right now as Atsumu walks and walks, hands in pockets and eyes trained to the sky. It’s still dark but the summer sun will start pushing away the darkness in the next hour or so. He thinks of doing laps around the neighbourhood, whittling away his anxieties, but he goes where he always defaults to when his head won’t be quiet.

He slips through the side door – its broken lock still isn’t fixed – and Atsumu enters the church hall, taking in a deep breath. The smell of old wood and dust fills his nose, and a mixture of emotions run through him.

He gets to his knees at the alter and rests his forehead on his forearms.

Usually when Atsumu prays, he can feel that Something, and although he’s been straying away, he still hopes to feel that Something.

But as he opens his mind to His presence, Atsumu’s heart stops when he feels nothing.

His eyes fly open and he looks up to the stained glass that is barely visible.

The Son stares back at him, hard eyes indifferent.

Tears begin to gather in the corner of his eyes as Atsumu wills for the Something, begs for the Something. But it doesn’t come.

And Atsumu realises that he’s all alone.

And it’s all his fault.

Panic seizes him and wraps around his throat like barbed wire. Atsumu feels like he’s choking as he stumbles back, scrambling on his hands as he tries to run away from the alter, tripping and stumbling as he makes his way up the bell tower stairs. He slips and smacks his chin on the top step, and whilst it doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would, Atsumu swears and lets out a dry sob, cupping his chin as he reaches the open aperture and leans over it, gasping and heaving.

The sky is a bit lighter now. A spot of blood drips onto the ledge.

“Atsumu?”

All of his panic sucks out of him immediately as Atsumu whips his whole body around, rapid breathing stoppered by a silent scream.

A figure is curled up in the corner, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights.

It’s Kiyoomi, because of course it is.

Atsumu considers during his second of shock that he’s receiving some kind of divine punishment.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses, the sound coming out like a whistle. “Fucking hell, Omi.”

“I could ask you the same.” Kiyoomi stands slowly, wobbling as he straightens his legs. “You gave me a heart attack.”

“Hey, this is my territory,” Atsumu says, wiping his chin as some hot liquid comes away on his hand. “How did you even get in?”

“Scaled the tower,” he replies without missing a beat, approaching Atsumu. He can barely see, but the flash from Kiyoomi’s eyes makes him flinch. “You’re bleeding.”

“Only a little.” He wipes again, but the slow flow doesn’t seem to be heeding. “Okay, maybe a lot.”

“Sit down.”

Kiyoomi leads Atsumu to sit in his corner, having Atsumu face the east for the most light they can get. He flicks his finger at Atsumu; he rolls his eyes and tilts his head up, hand hovering just beneath his chin. Though half-closed eyes, he watches Kiyoomi inspect his injury, eyebrows knitted together.

It’s been a while since he’s seen him so up close, and Atsumu’s failing to get his breathing back to normal. Kiyoomi’s hair is messier than usual, and he can just about make out the dark shadows under his eyes. He doesn’t look well.

He wonders if he looks the same.

Kiyoomi goes to fish in his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief – it’s neatly folded and white. Atsumu grits his teeth when Kiyoomi starts to blot him with it, touch very gentle against his skin. “It’s not too nasty,” Kiyoomi murmurs. “Probably better if we had some kind of dressing through.”

“Yeah, let me just grab my mini first-aid kit out of my pocket,” Atsumu says, his sarcasm interrupted by a grunt of pain. Kiyoomi freezes and then resumes, being more careful. “You’re ruining that all for me?”

It’s the nerves – seeing Kiyoomi, speaking to him again, having him so close – it makes Atsumu clench up with embarrassment. Kiyoomi’s expression doesn’t really change, still focused on the task at hand.

“I’m not very happy about it,” he says. “You’ll have to buy me a new one.”

“I’ll buy you twenty.”

There he goes again.

Kiyoomi’s flicker up to meet Atsumu’s and they look guarded. He doesn’t say anything, occupying himself as he hold the cloth against the wound. Atsumu thinks he could probably hold it there himself, but that part of him doesn’t speak up, letting their bodies still as Kiyoomi looks at his chin and Atsumu looks at Kiyoomi.

Minutes pass before Atsumu speaks again. “Why are you here?”

Kiyoomi lets a little breath out of his nose. “I needed to think – I ended up here. Was safer than sitting on a random street corner.”

“Ha.” Atsumi tries not to move. “Me too.”

“Are you annoyed?”

“About what?”

He shrugs, but Atsumu sees Kiyoomi swallow. “That I came here,” he clarifies. “That I came to your space.”

Atsumu closes his eyes – he needs a break from looking. “Nah,” he responds. “It’s not like you expected me to be here.”

“I didn’t.”

Atsumu’s sure that there’s truth to that, but from Kiyoomi’s tone, he doesn’t sound too sorry about the coincidence. Which makes Atsumu feel guilty, because he’s not sorry either and he has a lot more to be sorry about.

Unfortunately, the handkerchief gets taken away from his face. Atsumu looks at the splattered spots on it as Kiyoomi peers at his chin. “It looks like it’s stopped,” he murmurs, folding the fabric in half and holding it out to Atsumu. “Just in case.”

He takes it gingerly, their fingers just missing each other. “Thanks, Omi.”

The nickname is so nice to say, stupidly cutesy in a way that doesn’t really suit the person it’s being said to, but Kiyoomi doesn’t scowl when he hears it – if anything, he seems to relax. “Are you feeling alright?” he asks. “Didn’t hurt your knees or hands, did you?”

Atsumu’s already shaking his head, even though his knees do hurt a bit, because the question is only a reminder from why he had been running in the first place. “’M fine.”

In the dark, it feels easier to lie, but he’s forgotten how close Kiyoomi is to him.

But nothing else is said just yet, so they just sit there, looking but not quite looking. Atsumu lightly grazes his knuckles over his chin, checking the painful area – Kiyoomi hisses at him to stop, and he does, thankful that no fresh blood traces on his skin.

The sky lightens gradually and Atsumu can see a bit more. Kiyoomi’s eyes are bloodshot, and the shadows underneath them are purple. His hair falls – or flops – chaotically over his forehead, obstructing his eyebrows. His collarbones poke out from the collar of his t-shirt and his delicate wrists fold over each other on his lap. He’s wearing shorts, the summer air warm enough, even this early. He has some moles scattered around his knees too.

Despite the emptiness, despite the silence from before, despite the time Atsumu has kept him at arm’s length, he’s somewhat at ease. Even if it’s just for now, even if it’s just for a little while when the world is still asleep and isn’t a priority.

Kiyoomi is here – even if it won’t be for long.

Atsumu inhales and he turns his head to look at the bell. “I’m sorry.”

A short breath. “What?”

He screws his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, quieter than before. “I’ve been – I pushed you away and I didn’t tell you why, and I made it your problem when it was just supposed to be mine. I probably really pissed you off, and it’s fair if you’re still angry with me. I just – I don’t want you to think you actually did something wrong, because you didn’t. I’m – I’m so sorry, Kiyoomi.”

How a name can be so intimate frightens Atsumu.

He doesn’t look, but he can hear Kiyoomi’s breathing, hears him shift a little. They’re sitting close enough that their knees almost touch.

“Thank you.” The timbre of Kiyoomi’s voice is low, resonating through his chest. “And I’m –”

“Don’t you dare –”

“I’m sorry all the same,” Kiyoomi pushes on. “That you felt you had to.”

Atsumu scratches the back of his neck, keeping his eyes closed as he wills his breathing to go back to some semblance of normal. Another moment of quiet passes.

“…Am I allowed to know what’s wrong, then?”

It’s just a question, just a little question, but it’s the very one Atsumu is not at all prepared to answer. He shakes his head ever so slightly.

Kiyoomi doesn’t give up that easily. “If you’re going to go back to being childish and pretending that you never wanted to know me, then I’m all for it. But I think I deserve to know why you’re doing it. You owe me that.”

He does, but he really doesn’t want to – Atsumu looks back to Kiyoomi to say as much, but those damned eyes are already staring at him, probing him, begging him.

And Atsumu can only beg back, his features silently screaming as he locks onto Kiyoomi’s pale face.

Don’t you know? Can’t you see?

Don’t you feel it too?

Don’t you understand that I can’t be near you?

Don’t you understand why?

Don’t you understand that if I keep you here with me, that I’ll be admitting that I’m…

Kiyoomi’s face is so open, so vulnerable; his mouth is slightly agape, his lips are smooth, but his eyes…

His eyes reflect all that’s threatening to burst from Atsumu’s heart, and he can’t stand it.

Atsumu shifts and his right knee touches Kiyoomi’s left. Kiyoomi shudders.

It’s a bad idea, the worst idea. The silence is deafening, the absence of Something so prevalent that it echoes around Atsumu’s pounding head. He can go, he should go, he needs to –

A hand moves forward at a sluggish pace because Atsumu cannot contain the tremors as his fingers accidently graze against Kiyoomi’s bare thigh, reaching for something he shouldn’t want but so desperately needs. Closer, closer, until they knock against one of Kiyoomi’s wrists. The other flinches but doesn’t pull away.

He’s cold, but it burns.

Slowly, so slowly it hurts, Atsumu’s fingers slide over the top of his hand, staring at the veins and tendons, stroking the impossibly soft skin that he’s so longed to touch, tracing over his knuckles one by one. His index finger hooks around Kiyoomi’s thumb, and that’s when Kiyoomi moves his own fingers, carefully interlocking them together.

The way Kiyoomi’s palm feels against his own, the way their fingers lace together like puzzle pieces slotting into place, the gentleness they both use as they handle each other is too overwhelming, and they’re just holding hands.

But Atsumu has held hands with his family, with Osamu; he’s held hands with girls that made his heart flutter when he was a kid; but this…

This is another Something.

And it overpowers the Something that was missing before.

Atsumu can’t look away from their hands, entranced by it, so he lets out a gasp when Kiyoomi’s other hand touches his elbow, trembling as he cups it. He’s wearing a t-shirt too, so they’re skin-to-skin, and Atsumu almost chokes when Kiyoomi’s fingers splay, pressure feather-light as they move up his arms, trailing along his bicep.

He’s trying so hard not to sound so pathetic but Atsumu’s panting as his free hand comes to rest over Kiyoomi’s heart, feeling how it thrums under his touch, as if it’s ready to jump out of his chest and make a home in his palm. Kiyoomi’s not that much better, his own breaths getting away from him as his nails digs into Atsumu’s arm.

Their faces are getting closer; Atsumu bites his bottom lip as he lets his upper body shift to mirror Kiyoomi’s. He fists the front of Kiyoomi’s shirt when their foreheads bump together, unable to look away from him as their noses touch.

Their breathing is quiet and rapid, their stares are hungry and desperate. It’s getting too real, too heavy, but Atsumu can’t stop, can’t think about anything but Kiyoomi. His eyes flicker down to his lips and Kiyoomi does the same.

A whine travels up his throat and Atsumu swallows. “Kiyoomi,” he whispers, and it’s another plea, another prayer. “Kiyoomi, I…it’s this…I couldn’t…”

“I know, I know.” Kiyoomi exhales shakily, screwing his eyes shut. “I didn’t want…I didn’t mean to…but you – damn it – I can’t not see you, Atsumu…I can’t breathe without…”

He’s not ready – he’ll never be ready – but Atsumu is so tired of running away. He licks his lips, sticking to his tongue for a second. Kiyoomi watches him before looking back into his eyes.

The morning sky allows Atsumu to see how wide Kiyoomi’s pupils are, how pink his cheeks have become.

He sees how beautiful Kiyoomi Sakusa is, even though he’s known that for a long time now.

There’s a pause, a moment, a silent question, a quiet understanding that there’s time for one of them to back away. But neither will.

The gap closes, and their lips are touching.

It’s a gentle brush at first, the contact delicate and fearful, but then Kiyoomi adds a little pressure pressing his to Atsumu’s bottom lip.

They’re kissing.

And everything in Atsumu explodes.

Because it doesn’t matter that this is his first kiss, that his first kiss is happening in a bell tower at five in the morning.

It doesn’t even matter that his first kiss is with a boy.

What matters is that it’s with Kiyoomi.

He’s tugging on his shirt. He’s squeezing his fingers. He’s kissing him back.

And then Kiyoomi lets out a long sigh as he cradles the left side of Atsumu’s face, trembling thumb stroking over his cheek. They part for a second, the distance only millimetres but still too far, and Atsumu’s eyelids flutter, looking at the boy he…

The boy he likes.

“Kiyoomi.”

It’s a whispered declaration, the only one he can muster for now.

It’s enough.

Their hands untangle and Kiyoomi comes to holds the other side of Atsumu’s head, moving his lips with more urgency. Atsumu lifts his to rest next to his other, fingers splaying at the base of Kiyoomi’s neck. His mouth moves with inexperience, but it doesn’t matter because Kiyoomi is leading them carefully, cupping his cheeks so tenderly, like he’s holding something fragile and one wrong move will cause him to shatter – and he’s right to, because Atsumu probably will.

Neither of them want to come up for air and neither of them want to let go. Atsumu’s hands wander up past Kiyoomi’s shoulders and come to rest on the back of his neck, desperate to get closer to him. Kiyoomi grips onto his wrists, letting out soft breaths every so often as their holds on one another get more eager.

Need and desire and restraint pull Atsumu in different directions and he’s at a bit of a loss. He shifts slightly, leaning his upper body closer to Kiyoomi so he can get some instruction, some indication as to what to do next. Thankfully, Kiyoomi is a little braver than he is because he grabs onto his waist and gently pulls, encouraging Atsumu to stand. Confusion turns to comprehension as their mouths separate – Kiyoomi watches him with a mixture of awe and apprehension as Atsumu shuffles his feet, slowly hooking one leg over Kiyoomi’s and then the other, holding his shoulders for balance as he sits himself down in his lap.

The sheer intimacy of their new closeness makes Atsumu start shaking almost violently and he has to hold his breath to stop himself from spiralling. His vision distorts and his ears start to ring.

Cool hands come to cover his cheeks again. Atsumu focuses in on the two dots on pale skin. “You’re okay,” Kiyoomi is whispering, searching his eyes. “You’re okay.”

Atsumu takes another deep breath, shuddering under the touch. “Yeah, yeah.” His fingers furl into the black curls, the softness of the strands bringing him some kind of peace. Watching Kiyoomi’s eyelashes flutter because of the touch helps too. He focuses on their position, even though it scares him, and it gets a little less scary with time.

Kiyoomi’s head starts to dip, though his eyes stay trained on Atsumu’s. When his lips ghost the side of his neck, a breathy moan slips through his teeth. “Is this okay?”

Atsumu nods, tipping his own head further back as his hold tightens on Kiyoomi’s hair.

The feeling of Kiyoomi’s hot mouth placing languid open kisses on his sensitive skin is all-consuming, and when his hands slip down over his chest and stomach to slip around his waist and run up his back under his shirt, Atsumu arches, their bodies melting together as he sighs. He presses a kiss over Kiyoomi’s right eyebrow, top lip touching the pair of moles that he’s fixated on for what feels like years.

They move in tandem, exploring each crevice and surface with care and longing, months of silent yearning now leaking everywhere uncontrollably. It’s all so sensual, so gentle, so loving – everything burns so beautifully as their lips reconnect. When Atsumu touches the tip of his tongue to Kiyoomi’s bottom lip, Kiyoomi welcomes it, and the act makes Atsumu greedy. But sex is so far from the front of his mind – in fact, it’s about as far away as it can be – because right now, nothing has ever felt better than the hold they have on each other.

Sunrays kiss their cheeks and shoulders they finally part, the need for air and a moment of uninterrupted calm overcoming the desire to lose themselves entirely. Atsumu plants several more kisses on Kiyoomi’s cheeks and forehead, the gentlest placed over his eyelids. Kiyoomi accepts before nestling his face against Atsumu’s chest, arms locking around his middle; Atsumu buries his face into his hair.

They stay like that for a while.

“Are you?”

Kiyoomi looks to Atsumu, raising his eyebrow as a request for clarification. They’re sat on the floor now side by side, and Atsumu is tracing his finger up and down Kiyoomi’s arm, connecting each mark he finds. If it tickles Kiyoomi, he doesn’t complain.

“You know…” Atsumu trails off, both embarrassed and ashamed that the word gets lodged in his throat. “Are you…gay?”

Kiyoomi clenches his teeth and focuses on his lap. “I always felt a way about boys that I wasn’t supposed to,” he says slowly. He flips Atsumu’s hand over so his palm is face up. “Everyone talked about girls and crushes on girls, but it never crossed my mind – it was always boys. I guess it didn’t really become an issue until I hit puberty and things shifted. Suddenly, I knew what it really meant, even though I already knew it was wrong. But I just kept my head down and didn’t say a word about it, because I knew what would happen if I did. But then there was Keiji, my…”

Kiyoomi stops, pressing his lips together. Atsumu gives his hand a gentle squeeze, concern and dread pooling in his stomach. After a deep breath, he continues. “Keiji was another friend of mine – we got along well. And he was just so different to anyone else I met, I couldn’t help but fall for him. And for a stupid moment, I thought he had fallen for me too. So, I kissed him.”

Atsumu takes in a sharp breath and Kiyoomi’s forehead creases. “He kissed me back,” he whispers. “Only for a second, but he did. And then – and then it was all over. He told people I had forced a kiss on him and it got back to my parents. It was either a teaching camp, or we move away from everyone in that town, so…because my parents would rather believe that Keiji is a liar than force me through a different kind of public humiliation, we ended up here.”

“Omi, that’s awful.” Atsumu puts his head on Kiyoomi’s shoulder. “Would it be really fucked up if I said I’m still glad that I got to meet you, even if it was because of that?”

Kiyoomi snorts. “Yes, it would be – but I’d be a liar if I said I’m not glad to know you either.”

“Is that why you don’t talk to your cousin anymore?”

“Yes.” His voice wavers. “My aunt and uncle banned Motoya from seeing me. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

Atsumu tightens his grip around Kiyoomi’s hand. “That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love you,” he says.

He feels Kiyoomi shrug. “I don’t know if I want to find out.”

Atsumu thinks of Osamu and his insides curdle. “I understand.”

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Are you gay?”

Despite all of the contact and kisses and embraces they’ve shared over the past hour, Atsumu still squirms, his face growing hot with discomfort. Because he doesn’t know and isn’t that much closer to a satisfactory or non-scary answer.

“I’m not sure,” he eventually says. “Honestly, Omi, I just – if I think about that stuff, all I can think about is you. You’re all that comes into my head.”

Kiyoomi’s chin nudges against his forehead. “Really?”

Atsumu’s glad he’s not looking at him. “I guess I just woke up when I met you,” he mumbles.

There’s a silence and Atsumu closes his eyes, trying not to think too hard about what he’s just said. Kiyoomi, however, does enough for the both of them.

“That’s something too.”

“…Yeah, but I don’t know what.”

“You don’t have to.” Kiyoomi puts a finger on his cheek and tilts his head, peering into Atsumu’s eyes, expression soft. “You’ve just got to be you, Atsumu – as long as you’re happy with that, then there’s nothing else to it.”

Atsumu swallows, wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes. “Are you happy?”

The heaviness that overtakes Kiyoomi’s expression gives him his answer.

They hold each other for a bit longer, exchanging whispers and kisses, because once this moment is over, they’re going to be thrust back into a world of uncertainty, a world without that Something.

When Atsumu eventually stands to leave, he brings Kiyoomi’s hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles tenderly. “See you Sunday?”

With tired enamoured eyes, Kiyoomi nods, pulling Atsumu in for one more warm kiss, holding him with a tightness that threatens to suffocate them both.

The Sakusas are absent from the next Sunday service.

And the next.

And every single one after that.

#sakuatsu #skts #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #haikyuu #sakuatsu fic

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mmmmalo · 2 years ago

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Can't sleep, here's some problems I'm stuck on. Cw for "pedophilia"

First off, I'm unsure what to make of Roxy's apparent pedophilia, in the context of slurquest. The most obvious angle is homophobia, since "groomers" is a new word for an old smear, and several major instances seem to target lesbians: the vague age gap between Meenah and Vriska, complete with a scene where Meenah exchanges her used Vriska for a fresh one; the vague (probably innocuous) age gap between Roxy and Calliope, accentuated by the cherubim's status as symbolic babies; the shot of the Fred Astaire laptop winking at Jane (she's too young for him!)* while Roxy relishes Jane's inability to understand innuendo (fetishizes naiveté) and laments the stubborn tightness of Jane's ass. Scenarios like these work well as obtuse (and thereby defused?) representations of a common slander -- except Roxy also likes boys? Flirtlarping with Dirk's 13 year old AutoResponder was one of the first hints, and I'm inclined to view the kiss planted on Jude's cheek as indication that this trend continues into Hiveswap... then again Roxy in Homestuck is also a "girl" in the process of recognizing himself as a boy, so I guess everything is gay in the long view thanks to gender fuckery. Sort of like how the Sollux/Feferi kiss is visually straight but implicitly homosexual, thus demanding the disgust of the heteronormative gaze via Karkat... we'll call that the provisional approach.

I saw a post going around talking about Bro sexually abusing Dave (neglectful exposure to gay puppet porn), I wonder if that falls under a similar umbrella... I'm going to overextend the pejorative paradigm at some point if I haven't already (after all, it's not like EVERYTHING functions as ironic slander) but oh well, we'll burn that bridge when we get to it

Hard pivot, I also feel like the apparent red scare contributing to Jade's nuclear winter motifs (and the apparent use of Christmas trees as mushroom clouds in Hiveswap) should make something, anything of the fancy santas but they remain utterly opaque to me. Annoying. In general I don't really know where to go with the red scare readings... if there's a task beyond recognizing the general air of paranoia i haven't found it yet.

*superimposing laptops upon interlocutors is one of my pet projects. Perhaps not irrelevant that Kanaya first speaks through the Crosbytop, and is thereafter inundated with Problem Sleuth references. Also weird how her first speach bubble addressing Vriska gets replaced by a Doc Scratch bubble. Weird ongoing overlay of Kanaya's image with White Guys, but to what end idk

#homestuck commentary

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sapphirerogers · 2 years ago

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I think that Marvel is simply afraid of any backlash, not necessarily related to the sexuality of their actors. They know homophobes will throw a fit if they see any of their beloved characters in homosexual relationships and boycott the movies. And I don't think you can say that Marvel is supporting a ship if it's all vague and can be easily denied when convenient. It's not enough, not anymore.

Btw. Chris kinda ruined it for me when he started acting like he believes in Steggy at the end of his run as Cap. :/

I didn't mean that Marvel is supporting the ships. I simply said that one of the writers of Civil War seemed to be pro-Stucky, if I remember those posts correctly. Chris and Sebastian have definitely mentioned it multiple times. I'm also not saying that whatever I mentioned in that rant was enough support for the LGBTQ community. It isn't, I know.

While your observation about the homophobic backlash is absolutely true, I still think that isn't the entire reason behind completely shutting down the ship. Maybe it stemmed from the intention of protecting the actors too. Anyways, it was just a thought.

And maybe that was the same reason Chris acted that way at the end, because they all had to sell the straight romance. I personally don't think he believed in it any more than we do. Maybe.

Like I said before, just a thought.

#stevebucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #chris evans #sebastian stan

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bmpmp3 · 2 months ago

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I FINALLY got a chance the other night to watch the new season of love live superstar and I LIKED these first five episodes a lot so i wanna talk about it :)

sorry to say i am one of the many fans who thought the 2nd season was kind of floundering so i was a bit worried but they have gotten right back into it and im so glad. the first season was really fantastic in my opinion although there were a few odd character arc turns here and there (i still wish kanon's stagefright wasnt cured so permanently and it is wild that chisato is just like not in the music program anymore LOL) but then the second season - while i really liked the new girls they added, the pacing was all off for me and instead of like one or two weird character arc decisions it was like 99% that. also where is kinako. whats kinakos deal. why doesnt she get like a proper backstory emotional arc like everyone else. whats going on here.

BUT this third season has been going great, the first episode i wasnt sure about the pacing quite yet but by the end i got into the groove. also i like that wien is like trying so hard to be little cartoon skeletor type villain. its awesome i love her. also her moving towards remembering her love of singing for what it is was sweet, and during bubble rise, her feeling remorse for what she did to her image was really interesting for love live. they hadnt really brought up much in the way of online haters before i dont think....

bubble rise was right up my alley, love this type of love live song (big sort of dramatic ballad-esque pop tunes) and the theme was super fun. although how the hell did they put up those stage decorations. where did they get that hologram whale. awesome. the outfits were so good too, and of course the singing sounded great

i also like that tomari is a complete weirdo. somewhere between like a company manager and a sassy android. awesome

SPEAKING OF WHICH her and natsumis arc. so in the second season i really REALLY loved natsumi but i was disappointed with how her arc went because high key i thought it was going in a totally different direction. straight up i thought they were gonna go into like financial insecurity and shit, like maybe her family had some hard times or something growing up and maybe theyre much more stable now (since yknow. shes going to yuigaoka and as we find out in s3 its like an hour or 2 away from where she lives...) its hard to grapple with those feelings. which is Really Heavy for love live but honestly that first season was low key kind of going there? kanons stage fright rens dead mom kekes family sumires former child actor feelings of inadequacy chisato getting bullied etc like they were going in more heightened and intense places than i was used to for the main animes. but then it was a little vague, natsumis deal.

i dunno i still really love her (shes still probably in my top 3, although its really hard to choose) but trying a bunch of stuff as a kid, failing, and then giving up on everything was a bit bizarre? it felt a little out of nowhere i dunno. i also wonder if even an arc about falling too deep into seeking online validation and then finding self worth and satisfaction through the love of the game (singing and dancing on stage) instead could have been stronger rather than what we got. also i do think sumire should have been the one to talk to her instead of kanon because i think their parallels are super interesting

ALL THAT TO SAY even though i thought natsumis arc was weak in the 2nd season i do think the extension of it in this season and tomaris arc were pretty solid. it was kind of a shaky base but the structure they built on top wasnt half bad! still feels a little vague.. like it still feels like the other shoe hasnt dropped, maybe there will be something else later with their family? theres still plenty of episodes to go plus theyll probably come out with movies or something later <3

now shiki and meis arc was very awesome and very homosexual the whole way. i was worried with them as well at the beginning of the 2nd season yknow LOL i get worried too much.. but like okay. love live always has these near-canon couples and if you like them its awesome the whole way but if you feel indifferent towards them it is. suffering. i am the only kananchika truther on this whole earth.

sorry thats irrelevant (and dw i dont dislike kananmari or anything i think its interesting, although i like kanandiamari a biiiiit more and of course im too deep into kananchika) and its not suffering thats a joke but it always makes you feel crazy when theyve made a couple that they push in all the promo and songs and shows and you dont really feel it that much.

LUCKILY mei shiki is not that. i was worried that theyd focus to much on making them childhood friends with a dependency thing and ignore their personalities for the sake of it BUT luckily their personalities were enhanced with their strong feelings towards eachother... it was awesome. also helps that i really like both characters. i still wish mei got more of an arc about her giving people a scarier impression but thats neither here nor there. shiki helping mei join liella in s2 and mei helping shiki be center in s3... awesome. like it was romantic while still keeping their arcs their own, built up together, so so cute.

also very happy they did give shiki a center song like this. okay honestly i was a little surprised s2 kept pushing a narrative that kanon was the strongest singer of the group which. well. i really love kanons voice in s1 and i think she mightve been then. but unfortunately it seems her seiyuu was strained or overworked because while she still had most of her power, she was sounding a lot less expressive and rich. sumire, chisato, and keke's seiyuu were improving rapidly on their already strong bases, and then they added shiki who's seiyuu's voice is like dripping in charisma. her high notes sound a little strained sometimes but theyre also rapidly getting better and she had so much depth and subtle expression that i was like BLOWN AWAY immediately. since s2 kanon's seiyuu i think had more rest if i remember correctly? and she's sounding pretty good again (although it seems shes leaning more into a character voice with less soft or rich dimensions compared to s1 which i'll miss but its not bad. as long as shes healthy its fine, in the end the real voice actress is more important than a character song) but i did think it was like a difficult suspension of disbelief to deal with when they talked about shiki (and the other 1st years) being behind in skill when her singing skill was through the ROOF like that hskjhjkfdlsdfds i mean theyre all talented from the get-go thats a recquirement to be a love live seiyuu but i was like hello? shiki's voice? why is no one talking about shiki's gorgeous singing? hello??????

then again i value expressiveness over anything else, which is why i consider chisato's voice to be so SO good even though no one talks about it enough. a soft breathy note makes a powerful note sound even stronger, yknow? need some salt in your brownies to make the sugar taste better. but i do have this bias so take my vocal opinions with a lot of salt. too much salt for brownies. but enough for discussion (?)

anyway what im saying is all the singers are sounding pretty great this season but i especially was happy to hear shiki who already had a gorgeous voice have a center like this!! such a fun song too, more modern pop with a light tone rather than the heavier big ballad pop like bubble rise which i tend to prefer, but super catchy and sweet nonetheless

and speaking of songs the most reason episode.... keke's chinese ver of stardust cruising was a bit life changing. god her seiyuus singing is beautiful. i like held my breath. watching a cartoon character sing a tune. you know how it is <3 im so excited for the clean ver of it tho, i imagine it'll be on the soundtrack so we'll have to wait until the finale airs but im so excited. so so so so excited

i also love that keke's sister is insane. i like that shes a weirdo like tomari but like in the opposite direction. this season is the season of weirdo sisters <3 excited for ep6, im assuming we'll probably get a new song that episode or the next? since they gotta perform... in shanghai to save keke!!!!! hell yes

OH and the opening and ending songs, really enjoying them too. the ending had to grow on me but it has the same forward marching towards a hopeful future momentum that all love live ending songs are wont to have so its very nice, although neither the s3 or s2 ending have been able to top how fantastic mirai wa kaze no you ni was <3

although on that note, i think the opening is my favourite of superstar LOL s1's start true dreams was the weakest to me, it wasnt bad and i like it but ive noticed i dont like the openings in love live that start too intense as much orz like aozora jumping heart is iconic yes but i do like mirai no bokura wa shitteru yo waaaay more. sometimes start true dreams aozora jumping heart and other songs of its ilk do make me feel like im being blasted. they are blasting me with the horns first thing. but its fine start true dreams is still cute and i really like most of the song even if the intro is a bit intense for me

WE WILL WAS so so so good though i really loved it, even though i thought s2 was a bit messy that song was so like. inspiring to me? listen it was one of those love live songs that made me wanna run really fast and accomplish hopes and dreams you know what i mean. you know what im saying.

we will was so good already, but lets be one.... it might surpass it. im not totally sure yet but the softer parts and the build up in the verses, the glittery and piano-y beginning, RIGHT up my alley. right up my alley. we will see how it grows on me as the show goes, i dont skip love live openings or endings because i need to stockholm myself into liking every love live song. im normal. im normal.

anyway i think my ending song ranking is

1. s1 2. s3 3. s2

and the opening ranking...... right nowwwwww

BUT those top two miiight switch. we shall see

anyway. its been really good man. now i need to finally watch the nijigasaki ova and finish the yohane isekai.......

#its making me remember why i love my showbiz and music stories so much #i loooooove seeing cartoon character follow their DREAMS and SING a TUNE

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marmorada · 1 year ago

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You think you’re oppressed because fandom spaces think your theories are stupid? Do you hear yourself?

Are straight people experiencing oppression too when they’re jumped on for saying characters wouldn’t fuck the same sex?

Gay people get beaten, mass shot, lynched, burned, and thrown off buildings all over the world. And you want us to cry for you not having your dick sucked on the INTERNET for FANFICTION? THIS is what people mean when they call you terminally online. This is what people that haven’t faced real oppression think counts.

I have never fucked. I have no real interest. No I did not have to tell my parents. There is no coming out moment because nobody is getting kicked out or beaten or murdered because they aren’t looking for a significant other. Most people just see it, go “huh” and move on. My Uncle is 70. He has never had a girlfriend and never got married and has never faced any problems for it. I’ve had to tell doctors I am not and have never been sexually active for my entire adult life and none of them have batted an eye. I didn’t run home crying just because I was asked a routine medical health question, either!

The only abuse I’ve ever gotten on that vague front is men on the internet harassing me for sexual favors. How interesting an axis of oppression it must be if it can and usually is done completely by accident! Almost as if… It’s actually based on something else? Like the fact that I’m a fucking woman?

Like yeah, who gets any actual pushback? Females that won’t fuck specific men, because of MISOGYNY. Whether they are capable of sexual attraction doesn’t matter to anyone involved, because it’s about sexual entitlement. Not and never sexuality. WOMEN and SAME SEX ATTRACTED PEOPLE get harassment and profane conversion therapy to force them into patriarchy designated positions.

Gay people are put through conversion therapy to manifest attraction to the opposite sex and punish attraction to the same sex. Women are punished for not submitting to men by laws that make property ownership, banking, and employment illegal for women. Women were lobotomized for flippant sexual habits that were seen as normal in men. Lesbians and gay men are told they haven’t had the right genitals yet. Where is the mechanism to oppress ~aromantics~? Say it! Point to a single historical example! Show me the methodology! Show me a single example unaccounted for by misogyny or homophobia and the trend it created!

What do you NEED that you aren’t getting? Not emotional validation, NEEDS. Where’s the demand for aroace shelters? Where is the as yet not outlawed conversion therapy? Where do you not get equal protection under the law? How are promiscuous cishet men that won’t commit SUFFERING?

You are appropriating female and homosexual struggles because you think you are too special to be undergoing normal problems. You are telling men that hate women and sleep around because of it they are a special class that needs more human rights. You are making the problem worse because you’re too narcissistic to consider anything outside your own wants and experiences.

You people are saying that “””allosexual””�� women and minorities who are sexually abused just don’t have it as bad as you. Yes we’ve all seen the posts where you insinuate unwanted sexual contact just isn’t as hard on “””allosexuals”””.

You people are saying that LGBTs don’t deserve spaces away from the hateful fuckboy men that want to ruin their lives.

Lesbians are told they just haven’t had the right dick yet and need to stop discriminating against cock by people like you.

You are making everything worse for everyone but yourself. No you don’t fucking deserve a grain of respect!

Why is it so hard for aroace people to just get basic respect

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therogueheart · 4 years ago

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So I’ve seen a few posts questioning why it’s always Eddie in fics that struggles (sometimes negatively) with his sexuality or experiences internalised homophobia, some of which vague that it’s hateful towards the character or follows the ‘trend’ of victimising/babying Buck. There are also posts I’ve seen that reference the same, but in relation to the actual show and the handling of Buddie or mlm relationships with Buck and Eddie in canon.

So I’m going to do what I did with my post about Eddie’s reactions (or lack thereof) being in character, and lay it out as factually as I can.

It is more in-character for Eddie to be the one to struggle or to have a difficult sexuality journey than it is for Buck.

Even the show, in not so many words, has said the same thing. We’ve already seen Buck in several scenarios where his sexuality is questioned, assumed or vaguely referenced, and in none of them does he have a negative or overtly reactive response.

Buck’s sexuality was outright assumed, twice, to his face. In the first instance with the Christmas Elf Lady he was openly confused but ultimately shrugged it off with a smile and compliment. In the scene with TK we see him react a little more expressively, but with no obvious negativity or unhappiness. Poor baby was just confused that his bid for friendship was being taken as flirting, explicitly by a homosexual male.

Eddie, however, has several character factors that would point towards a choppier journey with realising he isn’t heterosexual. To name a few:

His (explicitly stated and referenced) past relationships, love interests and current love interest are all female, although the same can be said for Buck.

On the subject of Buck; Eddie also isn’t shown to have any real friendships with men (or women) outside of the 118, and none as close-knit as Buck. Eddie also doesn’t behave with his male peers (such as Bobby, Chimney and Albert) the way he behaves with Buck. Contrary to this, Buck is referenced up until recently to have been a very social person outside of the 118, even thus far as to live with several other men prior to moving into Abby’s and then into his own apartment.

Eddie was brought up in a heavily Latino/Latinx family and lifestyle and presumably, community. It’s common for Latino/Latinx communities to expect men to comply with the ‘macho family man’ archetype, and there are multiple resources from Latino/Latinx people that review the toxic masculinity of the communities and culture. We see a reflection of this in Carlos from 911: Lonestar, where his family is accepting but in a dismissive way, so much so that he makes the decision to introduce his boyfriend as a work friend.

He served in the military. Now the military is notorious for being the most homophobic ‘gay for the stay’ community you’ll ever encounter. It’s kind of fine to jerk each other off behind the craft building while thinking of your wives, but if someone comes out as gay they could be outcast, given a vaguely or outright homophobic nickname and face the age old ‘you’re gay so you’re a predator/risk’ type of treatment. (I’m not saying everyone and every base is like this, but again there are plenty of resources available that document the institutional homophobia in military spaces.) In worst cases gay/bi+ men are bullied or forced out of the barracks, beaten or killed.

Canon extensively implies that Eddie is straight. We don’t get the same vagueing and hinting/joking that we do with Buck. The closest we’ve come is the livestream where several comments mentioned him and Buck as a couple, but we don’t see Eddie react to these or even potentially notice them. Every time crushes or love interests are explicitly presented to/for Eddie, they’re female. Ignoring any possible meta about camera and behaviour choices, Eddie is depicted exactly the same as the other heterosexual male characters of the show, such as Bobby and Chimney. Contrastingly, Buck is the only one who receives explicit reference to or vagueing towards his sexuality and relationships, especially with Eddie.

Relating to the point above; if Eddie is a closeted bi/pan/demi/gay+ man, then he’s lived as a straight man for years and it would be a colossal change for him to come out. It would mean coming out to his family (assuming he hasn’t already, and to the family that already thinks he can’t function without a wife), his friends and peers, it would mean dealing with the change in perception of him from his peers and adjusting various aspects of his life; not least, talking to Christopher about it too.

In Season 3 and 4 we also see Eddie struggle with moving on from Shannon, and I think it’s plausible that Eddie would feel it’s some kind of betrayal to her. Eddie would likely wonder if his sexuality aided to the collapse of their marriage and would likely also wonder about the impact it had on their chances of reconnecting and his relationships with Buck and Shannon, if Buddie is the pathway to Eddie’s sexuality exploration.

Now I’m not saying Eddie would go off-the-rails homophobic in the instance that he was put in a situation like the ones Buck has been in, but Eddie would definitely be in-character to have some form of mild crisis, fear or doubt about explicitly realising he’s attracted to a man.

Eddie would quite literally have to question his entire existence and past and explore this new part of his identity, whereas from what we’ve seen on screen thus far it’s far more likely that Buck is open to or has already considered his own sexuality. Buck is also easier going about new parts of his identity, which the show depicts through his ‘Buck 1.0′ style self-developments.

Also; it is perfectly plausible for someone to be completely fine with other people being LGBT+ but to struggle with a change or discovery of their own sexuality. Again, the LGBT+ community is full of stories, most notably the Reddit thread about the man who realised he wasn’t homophobic; just jealous. Eddie’s immediate acceptable of Hen and Michael does not necessarily equate to immediate acceptable of his own sexuality.

When people consistently write Eddie as the one to have a sexuality reckoning, it’s not out of hate for the character or out of the desire to whump/baby Buck. It’s just in line with the character. Similarly, if the show does decide to go ahead with Buddie or to reveal Eddie as not heterosexual, please don’t lash out or criticize if they depict him struggling with it or taking a long time to adjust/accept it. Similar to healing, the journey of sexuality exploration is not always linear. Michael’s character is an excellent example of this, paralleled by Charles from Why Women Kill.

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1dmonthlyficroundup · 4 years ago

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1D Monthly Fic Roundup

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for April 2021! Below the cut you’ll find 17 One Direction fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup.

To Begin Again by @chloehl10 / lovelarry10

[Harry/Louis, 23k, Teen and Up, tumblr post]

“I, uh, I’m really sorry for yelling at you like I did.”

“Hey, I deserved it and more. I’m lucky you didn’t come and deck me on the nose,” Louis said, holding his hands up as if to surrender. “Seriously, you went lightly on me. If a crazy dog was leaping around me and my kids, I’d have lost my shit long before you did, and it would have been a lot more sweary than yours as well.”

Harry laughed at that, quite liking the man now he was getting to know him. This Louis seemed to have a good sense of humour, and his dog was fairly likeable too, laying there sound asleep, sunbathing.

“Well, I don’t usually lose my temper, so I just wanted to apologise.”

“It’s me who needs to say sorry. My stupid dog ate their bloody eggs, and on Easter Sunday at that. It’s a good job we don’t go to church, Cliff, or we’d both be going straight to hell. Nice ears, by the way. I meant to say earlier.”

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Harry’s ready to spend a fun Easter morning with his two children at the park, but it’s thrown into chaos when an over-excited dog and his owner come barrelling into their lives…

A Small Matter (A Matter of Trust) by @kingsofeverything

[Harry/Louis, 18k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Harry knows he and his Grindr hookup would be perfect together, if only he could convince him to give a relationship a chance.

Or Harry has a thing for jock straps. Louis likes to wear them.

Are you proud of me? by @sadaveniren

[Harry/Louis, 2k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Louis was completely naked, except for a silk scarf that Harry had never seen before. It was tied around his neck like a bow. His lithe body was cast in dramatic shadows as he descended the stairs and all Harry could think was holy shit, mine, mine, mine.

“Well this is a shame. I was hoping you’d keep the boa.”

Harry blinked in surprise at his voice. He was too caught up in his perfection. “What?”

“I guess the leather will do. I do love you dressed in leather.”

aka I show up 2 weeks late with Grammy Fic

Right Back Home to You by @behindmeday

[Harry/Nick Grimshaw, 4k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

It wasn’t the first time Harry and Nick were cut off before they really got started talking. In fact, it seemed to be happening more often than not. Nick had an insane schedule that no rational person would choose, but Harry’s was even worse. Between the early mornings on The Breakfast Show and the never-ending time zone changes of tour, it seemed that Harry and Nick weren’t really meant to have any real conversations these days.

Or, Harry writes Nick a song.

take my hand (my whole life too) by @beckydoesthings / beckywritesthings

[Harry/Louis, 44k, Explicit, tumblr post]

“You’re famous?” he asks, deciding to dive straight into the heart of the issue.

Harry winces, dropping his gaze to the table. “Erm… famous is one word for it.”

Well, that’s reassuring. Louis raises an eyebrow until Harry heaves a sigh and continues.

“How much do you know about the British monarchy?”

His stomach drops to the floor in a heartbeat, jaw following suit. There’s no way that what Harry’s insinuating is possible. But as the time ticks by, there’s no change in the deadly serious expression on Harry’s face, fingers twitching steadily on the table as he waits for Louis’ answer.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Or a Crazy Rich Asians AU with a royal twist where Harry is a prince, Louis is most definitely not, and there’s a royal wedding to attend.

Forever Is In Your Eyes by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Harry/Louis, 126k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

Harry looks fragile in the moonlight, and Louis stands there, pondering, not even sure what it is that he’s thinking of. It’s all just noise in his head, a mix of melancholy and desire, of longing for something that he doesn’t even have a name for.

He wants-

He wants love. He wants to be held and cherished and have a home. Not just a place to lay his head down at night. He wants to be loved the way that Louis had loved creating Harry. He wants his perfect man, but he wants him to be real. He wants Harry to be real-

His lips press against marble, against something cold and unforgiving, and it’s not until his hand comes up to rest against a sculpted neck that his eyes fly open and he stumbles backwards, nearly falling off the stepladder that he’d stood on.

“Jesus Christ.” He whispers, shaking his head and resisting the urge to brush the back of his hand against his lips, erase evidence that isn’t even visible to the naked eye. Harry stands there, as though nothing’s changed, and of course he does, because he’s a statue.

A statue that Louis has just kissed.

Stuck in an eternal spring by @chrysopon / flamboyo

[Louis/Zayn, 4k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

Louis is about to go crazy in the silent solitude of London’s lockdown. The only breach into the grey monotony of his days is the hope of catching a glimpse of the dark-haired guy who lives in the building across the street. One night they have their night cigarette together while both in their flats, twenty meters and an empty, quiet street between them. It becomes a habit, but maybe there’s hope for it to become something more.

It’s Been So Long by @elsi-bee / elsi_bee

[Harry/Louis, 31k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

Harry Styles’ first crush was one of his sister’s best friends, a certain someone named Louis Tomlinson. And Louis? He just vaguely remembers Gemma’s younger brother from back in the day.

A lot can change in ten years.

Featuring Niall and Liam as Harry’s friends, flirting, fluff, and flashbacks to the awkward days of high school.

This Dream Lost by @zanniscaramouche / zanni_scaramouche

[Liam/Louis/Harry, 5k, Mature, tumblr post]

It’s a dangerous game to play his Alpha like this, and it gives Harry a thrill through his spine he’s not sure he likes. It’ll be worth it, but he doubts he’ll be pulling any surprises on Louis for a while after this. He can’t fucking stand it as is and it’s not even really for Louis, it’s for Liam.

Mercy by @zanniscaramouche / zanni_scaramouche

[Niall/Shawn Mendes, 5k, Explicit, tumblr post]

“I-” Shawn licks his lips, eyes bright and wide with the shock.

Balls in his court now. He could refuse, step away from the line they’re toeing and laugh it off. But he doesn’t, just like Niall knew he wouldn’t. Because Shawn wants this. They both do, and that’s what makes it so fucking insane.

Blind Faith by @2tiedships2

[Harry/Louis, 18k, Mature, tumblr post]

“Harry?” Liam prompted.

“I’m blind,” Harry eventually said, trying his best to keep himself from crying.

Liam was silent for a few moments, before responding, “That’s not exactly news, H. You were blind when I met you a year and a half ago. Have you been in denial this whole time or something?”

“No, Liam,” Harry cut in. “This is different. I’m not legally blind like I used to say. It’s not just my night vision. The tunnel from my tunnel vision has closed. I’m fucking blind! I moved halfway around the world in the hope of finding my soulmate and it’s obviously not happening now. Not even a soulmate is going to want to put up with a blind alpha.“

The Journal by @wait4ever / RecycledStardust & @evilovesyou / 4ureyesonly28

[Louis/Harry, 14k, General, tumblr post]

When Harry finds himself purchasing an antique journal in the ancient bookshop of a town he’s never heard of, he doesn’t exactly want to admit that he has no idea how he got there. A myriad of odd coincidences and a few kind smiles from the shopkeeper have the two of them working hard to solve the mystery of this strange journal that seems to have been waiting for Harry for almost a hundred and thirty years.

But I’m the Quarterback by @evilovesyou / 4ureyesonly28

[Harry/Louis, 52k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Harry Styles is the quarterback of Sunny High’s football team, dating the beautiful head cheerleader, and determined to enter his senior year with focus and discipline. That is, until a strange man shows up at his home, makes his girlfriend break up with him, and convinces his parents to send him off to a “reparative therapy camp” over the summer.

At True Directions, Harry meets four other boys and five girls, all there to be cured of their homosexuality. He has to find a way out of this place as soon as possible—Christ, he isn’t even gay!

Know a Trick or Two by @sadaveniren

[Harry/Louis, 45k, Explicit, tumblr post]

The night before Louis is scheduled for a Portkey to begin training with the Vratsa Vultures in Bulgaria he heads into Muggle London for one last night of fun. A few months later he finds out he’s having a child.

Eleven years ago Harry had a one night stand and now there’s a strange man on his doorstep telling him his daughter is something called a wizard and she’s got a place at the British wizarding school Hogwarts.

Aka the one where Muggle Harry and Wizard Louis have a one night stand and get more than they bargained out of it.

Until That Day by @kingsofeverything

[Harry/Louis, 44k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Harry Styles is days away from walking down the aisle when his previous failed weddings are turned into a public spectacle by jaded London journalist Louis Tomlinson. Hoping to witness Harry leave another groom at the altar, Louis heads to Holmes Chapel, where nothing goes as planned, and he finds himself falling for the serial heartbreaker.

A Runaway Bride movie AU

Caught In Your Gravity by @lululawrence

[Harry/Louis, 63k, Not Rated, tumblr post]

It felt like the blood froze in Harry’s veins even as he got a bit lightheaded. He hadn’t even made it two practices, only one of which he was remotely in charge of, without giving it all away and now he and Liam were both absolutely fucked.

“Shit,” Harry breathed out. “Who all have you told? Does everyone know? I thought I covered it better than that…”

“No, no,” Louis said quickly. “They’ll figure it out soon enough, though, because they’ll get used to you changing things up, but you’re only going to trip over your so called Americanisms for so long before they realize it’s because you don’t actually know fuck all about football.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I figured. I just need to bullshit for long enough to allow Liam to get the situation figured out from his end.”

“Right, which brings me to my entire point. I think we can find a mutually beneficial arrangement with all of this.” Louis leaned forward. “You need to learn the ins and outs of the sport incredibly fast. I can help you with that.”

“What do you want in exchange?”

Or, an AU inspired by a 30 second trailer of Ted Lasso that doesn’t actually have much in common with the show at all.

Passing By by @larryyouknow

[Harry/Louis, 48k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Sometimes, people are in each other’s lives just for the briefest of moments. They meet and then go their separate ways because being vulnerable is scary and it might be easier to not let anybody else in. But some people aren’t meant to be just passing by. Maybe when they open their eyes, they can learn things about themselves they haven’t known before. If they let their hearts speak they will find a way to be together.

Or the one where Harry doesn’t even know he’s into guys until he meets Louis on a boat trip. There’s something more to their friendship but it ain’t gonna be smooth sailing.

#28th appreciation #tracksintheam #1dsource #trackinghome #april 2021 #april masterpost #sorry if you got notified for the first post #tumblr destroyed it and it had to be redone

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gullethead · 4 years ago

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what is your opinion on tamsyn muir discourse (and also what is the discourse)

THANK you. okay warning for discussion of fictional sexual assault, real life CSA (not something she did), plus 2012-era homestuck fandom typical stuff

please rb this btw, unless you dont want to, in which case dont. also if you have any corrections or additional information to consider please add by all means

disclaimer: im not in the habit of writing essays defending whichever internet personalities i like. ill admit theres potential bias, given that i read the books before i learned about this, but im really being as objective as possible and i just think people are taking a misguided or half-formed stance on this. if you still dislike her or w/e after this thats, like, perfectly in your rights. im not defending an adult woman on the internet, im explaining the facts as ive seen them and understand them. additional disclaimer that i havent experienced sexual assault at all myself

okay so tamsyn muir is currently well-known as the author of the locked tomb trilogy (aka gideon the ninth and harrow the ninth), but for a certain section of tumblr shes also well known as urbanAnchorite, and used to be a big name fan on here up until around 2014 - pretty close to everything here is going to be from roughly 2011 through 2014, except for an interview im gonna get into, so 7-10 years ago. i was only vaguely aware of her until after i got into the locked tomb and saw people talking about this. with that in mind:

so the MAJORITY of the discourse revolves around a single fic she wrote on AO3. her account has 19 works in homestuck, and some of them are Kinda Weird to Pretty Bad in retrospect, but being completely honest this is the only one that isnt completely stock standard for homestuck fandom in that time period. like if we started casting stones about ten year old fandom stuff we'd be here all day

here is the fic (warning for CSA)

in most of the posts about it ive seen, theyve described it as a "rapefic," but actually reading it, it's a lot more nuanced than that description implies. its a dark story where a grown man abuses a girl, from the man's perspective, and the story ends with him being killed by her friend. the description of the assault is treated very seriously by the story and barely even touches on any actual sex, before immediately cutting to him being killed. its lolita if humbert got shot to death; the title itself comes FROM lolita

(sidenote - it was inspired by a prompt on kinkmeme, but that doesn't really mean anything vis a vis being intended for sexual enjoyment, and according to the note actually went against the spirit of the request)

ive seen fics, lots and lots of fics, that would qualify as the term "rapefic." it tends to be pretty fucking obvious when someone is using sexual assault as a fetish, and this is Not That

tamsyn herself actually responded to this in an excellent interview early last year. she gets into some Fandom Mom type language, but essentially says what i said above. in it, she also says this:

It’s not the first time I’ve been accused of being a paedophile. I grew up gay in the nineties. Homosexuality and paedophilia were enmeshed in society’s minds. When I came out, I got told that I shouldn’t be around children. I was used to that because it was common discourse, and it hurt like all hell, but it didn’t shock me. When I got called a paedophile by Twitter I got clotheslined. My support network had to get in pronto. I was very ready to have a hot date with a length of rope, a date I have arranged and cancelled multiple times over my life. I have had lots and lots of therapy over the years for various conditions, some of them lifelong and some not, but when that Twitter call-out happened it was hard to want to live. I thought I knew so intimately what I was doing with my fiction; my therapist was always so supportive of me writing about it. I have not been open about being a CSA survivor because, again, I grew up in the ‘90s. ‘Lesbian’ and ‘CSA survivor’ is just carte blanche so a whole queue of people can tell you, I HOPE ONE DAY, WITH LOVE AND SUPPORT, YOU CAN BE STRAIGHT. It was like, right this way to the invalidation booth. I didn’t even tell most of my girlfriends! I told one! It’s not a topic of discussion between me and my family; I am relying on them not reading my interviews so it can remain where it belongs: thoroughly undiscussed!

with this context it becomes... a lot more nuanced of a topic. an author who experienced CSA in addition to growing up in a cultural climate where gay people were pedophiles by default, especially growing up catholic in a rural community, wrote a work about childhood sexual assault (which also happened to be fanfiction) as a way of working through it for herself, which is... something a lot of artists do with their art? and in return she got a massive blowback on twitter accusing her of pedophilia and demanding she talk about a massively traumatic moment in her life

this is the major sticking point of the discourse, im not gonna get into anything else on this post, but this is my view of it. if you disagree or have anything to add then feel free to add on. again, i know what it looks like, but im not trying to uncritically defend a stranger just cause i like her book. this is the conclusion i came to after doing a lot of digging for myself

#the locked tomb #tamsyn muir #also by the by im not an 'anti-anti' or whatever so go fuck yourself in advance and log off. please #i think theres nuance to be had in that conversation but its not whatever the fuck that is

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gallavictorious · 4 years ago

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Outsider POV Gallavich Fic: Captive Look

For a while there this spring, I was mildly obsessed with the CO in 10x03: you know, the good-looking guy who seems so completely unfazed by finding two armed inmates stabbing an old man, and then for whatever reason doesn't report it? (He can't have; Ian's parole wouldn't have happened so soon after something like that.) I also really dig his beard... Anyway, IMDB identifies him as Raymond and I've had this short little piece about him and his interactions with two certain dumbasses sitting almost finished in my draft doc for months and months and months, so... you're welcome? 2882 words, to help pass the time until the new episode!

You can read it below or on AO3.

---

It's half past eight on a Thursday when Raymond catches sight of them across the bar at South Side Social. He’s there to celebrate his baby sister’s birthday, familial obligation overriding personal preference, but after an hour of politely chatting with her increasingly wasted college friends over obnoxiously rustic-only-because-it’s-trendy food, he’s ready for a break. Catching Tina’s eye, he mimes lightening a cigarette; she raises an eyebrow at him and smirks. She’s a clever kid, his sister – the first in their family to go to college – and she knows him only too well. Knows, for instance, that he gave up smoking years and years ago.

Offering her a rueful grin, he gets up and gets out and spends the next few minutes breathing in Chicago’s poisonous evening air. It’s December, but unusually warm for the season, and somewhere underneath the dusty stink of exhaust fumes and concrete there’s a faint trace of melting snow.

On the way back to the table Raymond stops at the bar to order another beer, and that’s when he spots them, just three feet away. Two men in their mid-twenties, casually dressed and apparently in the middle of a not-very-serious argument, complete with waving hands and mock-scoffs. It takes a moment for the vague feeling of familiarity to click into actual recognition, and when it's does it's not so much their faces as the way they pause to look at each other.

It's not the sort of look you see a lot, especially not in prison.

So, well, he’ll be damned. It’s Milkovich and Gallagher. Cellmates, lovers, and occasionally a goddamn pain in his ass. Released, as improbable as it sounded, within days of each other less than half a year ago, and now laughing over drinks in a half-way decent restaurant in downtown Chicago. It’s not the sort of place he’d expected to find them in – but then again, there’d been a lot of unexpected things about that pair.

Not them hooking up, necessarily, not once they’d ended up sharing a cell; trading sexual favors for protection (whether voluntarily or not) was common enough. Frowned upon in theory, of course, but in practice –

Well. You didn’t have to like it, but it was what it was. Idealism didn’t survive long at Beckham. Raymond himself had never harbored any grand notions about the redemptive potential of his work, but he’d seen his fair share of fresh-faced new CO:s have their illusions crushed after a week or two caught between the often violent offenders who despised them, the indifferent malice of many seasoned CO:s, and the stifling drudgery of the American penal system in general. Not Raymond, though: he did his job, did it well, and went home and didn't spend waste moment of thought on it. You did what you needed to do to pay the bills; no need to dwell on it.

So no, Gallager getting in bed, quite literally, with Milkovich hadn’t been a surprise. The nature of their relationship, though...

Sure, it wasn’t unheard of for inmates to fall for one another, or for established couples to end up in prison together. Didn’t happen a lot, and actual homosexuality was still more likely to get you beat up than laid, but yeah, it did happen. What, in Raymond’s experience, never happened was having to people look at each other the way Milkovich and Gallagher sometimes did, whenever they thought no one else was watching: there was a kind of wonder to it, both staring at the other like they’ve been handed a goddamn gift and couldn’t quite believe their luck.

Particularly on Milkovich’s face the look was baffling.

Ever since the young man arrived at Beckamn he'd moved down the gray corridors and among the yellow-clad crowds like a man born to it. Raymond supposed he was; his father Terry had spent much of his adult life in the very same prison, as had a great many brothers, cousins and assorted associates. Though Raymond didn't know any details, and didn't really care to know them, he'd bet dollars to donuts that Mickey Milkovich's criminal career had had both an early start and a sense of inevitability to it. Various stints in juvie, followed by a real prison sentence for... attempted murder, wasn't it?... followed by a widely publicized jailbreak and an eventual and far less publicized return to Beckman.

Milkovich was tough enough to make others back down when he had to but smart enough not to start any unnecessary fights, not with the other inmates and not with the ones set to watch over them. Knew how to work the system, too: how to get things in, get things done, which guards could be bribed. Raymond didn't play that game himself, but he wasn't getting paid enough not to turn a blind eye when others do. And Milkovich had been pretty smooth about it, especially since his return; careful not to cause a stir.

Gallagher, on the other hand... He'd been the kind of inmate Raymond would've been seriously worried for, had he been inclined to worry and had Milkovich not been there to watch his back and show him the ropes. Not because Gallagher struck Raymond as even remotely helpless, but he so very obviously did not belong in prison, and so very obviously did not really have a clue about what was what in here. The nastier inmates would have eaten him alive long before he'd had the chance to navigate the intricacies of prison politics and find the friends needed for protection. He'd have ended up someone's bitch, or ended up in the infirmary, or dead.

But he'd ended up with Milkovich, and as unlikely as it had seemed at the time, that had worked out. (There were moments when Raymond wondered about that, wondered about them: apart from the looks, there were little touches, too, casual things that spoke of a familiarity far beyond what they could possibly have developed in their short time in a shared cell.)

That wasn't to say that their relationship had been all rainbows and lollipops, and it sure as hell hadn't been fun for everybody. They’d driven half the cellblock insane sometimes, as well as occasionally one another. Other prisoners had complained about their bickering and their fucking (though never officially complained, because you didn't, not unless you wanted to go looking for your teeth in the shower drain), and Raymond recalled vividly the time when not one but both of them had gotten roped into Chester Russom’s endless quest to spend the rest of his life behind bars –

He'd been passing by the infirmary when he'd heard the screaming and come running. Hadn't been surprised, exactly, to find what he found, but that didn't lessen the urge to smack both Milkovich and Gallagher on the head for being so damned stupid.

Neither of them had seemed particularly concerned about getting caught stabbing another inmate. In fact, they'd fallen over themselves to take the blame, which Raymond might have taken as an unselfish attempt to save the other – if he'd been a complete idiot and if the two of them hadn't been sniping at each other all the way from the infirmary, to the point where he felt like his head would explode.

“Imma murder you two if you don't stop talking,” he said, glaring at them as they sat chained outside the small office. Thankfully, they did stop, looking neither at him nor at each other.

Raymond waited for a moment, deliberating.

“What did Chester promise you?” he eventually asked. Gallagher might have agreed to help the old man out of the goodness of his heart, but Milkovich sure as hell hadn't.

Neither man answered. They were studiously avoiding looking at each other.

“You're not going anywhere until you tell me,” Raymond warned them. “If I have to leave your sorry asses chained to this bench all night that's no skin off my back.”

“We needed a break,” Gallagher offered eventually, reluctantly. Milkovich gave a little snort at that, but – wisely – kept his mouth shut. “So we thought that if one of us got sent to solitary... “ He trailed off, shrugging half-heartedly.

Oh, for the love of God - ! “Why did both of you have to stab him if the goal was to get one of you to solitary?”

Again, there was a protracted silence, and somewhere in it – in their earlier insistence that each of them had been the first to stick the shiv into Chester – Raymond could just about make out the shape of it.

“You are both idiots,” he said, moving to uncuff them from the bench, making a decision. “Come on, let's go.”

“Wait,” Gallagher said, not rising. “You're not reporting us? What about solitary?””

“You don't get a damn reward for stabbing someone, so no, you're not going into solitary, you're going straight back to your cell – where you will hand over all contraband you've hidden there.”

“Now, wait a minute – “ Milkovich began, but he faltered when Raymond fixed him with a hard stare.

Raymond had no illusions about intimidating this particular inmate, but Milkovich really did know how this worked; knew better than to ever be friendly with a guard, not even the ones he bribed – but knew when not to push too.

He had kept their hands cuffed for the walk back to the cell, which was policy, but was him making a point too. While there were extenuating circumstances – primarily the fact that Chester had asked them to stab him – by all rights they should be going down for this, and Raymond wasn’t one hundred percent sure why he wasn't letting them. Save himself the paperwork? Yeah, sure. Why not? As good a reason as any.

“Now, am I going to have to search the cell or will you give it up voluntarily?” he asked once they'd made it to the cell. “You make me look, I won't be too careful with your shit.”

A lot of the guards would be deliberately careless when they tossd a cell, either to prove a point or just for the hell of it. Raymond usually didn't bother with that sort of power trip bullshit, but he was prepared to make an exception if these morons proved stupid enough to give him any more trouble. He was already cutting them considerable slack here, and neither of them have the brains to appreciate it.

They had shared a look, and then Milkovich gave an imperceptible nod. Without a word they set to bring forth an array of cigarettes and foodstuff, little things that would have been commonplace and unremarkable in the real world but was made precious by its scarcity on the inside.

Raymond wasn't naive enough to believe they actually gave him everything they'd got in there, but enough of it to inconvenience them, which would have to do. He grabbed the the items, then fixed them both with a firm look.

“Either of you cause me any more trouble, I'm taking your books,” – he pointed to Gallager, then to Milkovich – “and your pens and paper. You think you have it bad now? Imagine sharing a cell and having nothing else to occupy you.”

He had hoped to God he wouldn't have to make good on his threat, though. The other prisoners would probably riot if they have to put up with more of ´bickering from these two.

“I catch either of you with a shiv again, you'll be fucking sorry,” he continued. “Talk it out, or agree not to talk, or whatever. Split the cell into his and his, I don't give a damn. But sort your shit out.”

Maybe they had, maybe they hadn't; the point became moot just a few weeks later, when Gallagher was released. Milkovich had soon followed him – and how exactly that had happened, Raymond still didn't know, because there was no way in hell anyone actually thought releasing that one back into society was a great move – and that had been that. For now, at least; he fully expected to see Milkovich again. Guy like that wasn't going to quit, and sooner or later he'd get caught and find himself back behind bars. Rinse repeat, until he got himself killed or locked away for good.

Only now here Milkovich is, but in front of a bar rather than behind them, and with Gallagher right by his side, laughing like they'd never stabbed a man just to get away from each other.

Raymond hesitates. There's some small part of him that actually wants to step up and say hello, and that throws him a little. He's got a rule about never getting emotionally invested in the fates of the inmates; that way lies nothing but heartbreak, because most of those who find themselves at Beckman will find themselves there again and again, for longer and longer. Don't abuse the prisoners, but don't care too much either: it's been Raymond's private policy for the past five years, and it's worked out so far.

Except now he's actually considering chatting with a couple of convicts, just 'cause he really is a little bit curious about how this unlikely pair is doing.

But nah. Forget it. His rule aside, it'd be pretty uncool to intrude on their evening out. They're free men now – kind of – and having a CO check up on them can't be high on their list of wants. But before he can move away, they both look his way; sees him. Recognizes him, too, from the way they freeze.

Okay. Call it fate, then. “Hello,” Raymond says, going for neutral good and a little nod; I come in peace.

A beat. Milkovich is eyeing him with a wariness he doesn't bother to conceal and it's Gallagher who speaks first:

“Officer Reese,” he says, managing a polite smile. “Hi.”

Raymond notices the way they glance down at the beers they technically shouldn't be having.

“I'm not your PO,” he assures them. “I don't give a damn if you drink. Might want to take it easy, though,” he can’t help but add. “Getting shitfaced is a quick way to get into trouble.”

Milkovich opens his mouth, but after a quick glare from Gallagher he closes it again. Probably for the best; Raymond can’t imagine him playing even remotely nice now that he doesn’t have to.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt your evening,” he says. “Looks like you’re doing all right.”

“Yeah, yeah, we've got jobs and... “ Gallagher pauses to glance at Milkovich again, as if asking his permission. Milkovich rolls his eyes but says nothing, and Gallagher turns his gaze back to Raymond. There's a real smile on his face now, small, but filled with something akin to disbelieving delight: “We got married. Couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, wow. Congratulations.” Raymond isn’t quite sure what surprises him more: the fact of their marriage, or the fact that he is genuinely happy for them. Maybe he’s getting soft in his old age… Or maybe it’s just that there’s so very few happy endings for those who find themselves at Beckman, whether as inmates or as guards, that they need to be treasured whenever you find them.

“Ian!” someone calls across the room, and Gallagher turns his head to look at a blonde woman gesturing wildly. “Where are those drinks?”

“Shit,” Gallagher mutters. “Better get this to Tami before she has a fit.”

Another smile, and Gallagher is gone. Milkovich, however, lingers, seemingly debating whether to say something more. Curious against his will, Raymond does his best to look approachable. Evidently, it works, because Milkovich clears his throat:

“You’d reported us when we stabbed that old fucker in the infirmary, Ian wouldn’t have gotten his release.” He pauses, looking uncomfortable, then forces out: “Appreciate it.”

Raymond merely nods. Maybe he should say something about being glad taking a chance on them had paid off, that he is glad to see them doing well – but he’s pretty sure Milkovich wouldn’t much appreciate the sentiment.

“Your boy doesn’t belong in prison,” he says instead.

Milkovich face immediately collapses into a scowl. “Well, I didn't fucking put him there,” he growls.

But Raymond isn’t intimated; just hold his gaze. “Gonna keep him out of trouble then?” Gonna stay out of trouble, he doesn’t ask, but Milkovich isn’t stupid, so he'll hear it all the same.

Milkovich still glares, but something in his eyes seem to soften ever so slightly. “You betcha. Won’t have anything on us ever again,” he promises ambiguously, with a cocky grin and one eyebrow raised.

When he walks away, swagger in every step, he is every bit the unrepentant gangster – but Raymond keeps his eyes on him and sees the way he relaxes as soon as he stops next to Gallagher. Reaches out to touch him lightly on the arm, catching his eye. That same wondering smile on both of their faces.

Raymond thinks that maybe he won't actually see either of them again.

He is glad of it.

#gallavich #fic #my stuff

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lucille-grim · 3 years ago

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Kuwabara is a basket case... Far worse than Hiei could ever be.

(You can be a basket case and NOT be insane.)

And for good reasons.

People fail to see this.

People fail to see the warnings in both the manga and the anime, especially the manga.

Again, the note under the panel is TOGASHI'S NOTE to his readers!

Kuwabara ain't no typical jock.

The main four are all jocks in some way, really.

They are fighters.

Fighting doesn't always have to consist of using your fists or any body part that contacts another's body part.

Yusuke's your typical jerk and outcast.

Kurama is really intelligent and is a nice guy, but can get callous to the point of being ruthless.

Hiei has trust issues, big time.

Kuwabara seems almost normal to most fans, but he's real messed up deep down. Kuwabara is by far the most secretive of the group. This actually makes him THE QUIET ONE.

The other characters spilled their beans about their pasts, but NOT Kuwabara.

QUIET ONES doesn't mean absolute silence or hardly words spoken in general from a character always. It can mean that they're VERY PRIVATE ABOUT MOST THINGS, especially about happens in their daily lives that affect them the most. They are silent about what really bothers them, usually. They keep their personal affairs completely to themselves. They don't let anyone know about their family lives and what goes on at home. They may have separate groups of friends, neither truly knowing this person nor getting to really know each other...

Kuwabara's Posse knows nothing about Yusuke and the other Teammates who work with Kuwabara, the same goes for the Reikai Tantei not knowing Kuwabara's Posse personally either. None of Kuwabara's friends in either group truly knows Kuwabara. Even Kuwabara's family is mostly oblivious about what his friends do on a day to day basis and the same goes for Kuwabara's daily activities until...an overbearing family member, Shizuru, took the initiative to find out what goes on by forcing her presence in his life, going wherever he goes from time to time whenever the opportunity presents itself.

QUIET ONES usually say what's most important to whatever situation, if they don't straight up give you the cold shoulder or simply ignore the topic at hand. What they say carries volume. They don't go into details, usually. Whatever the subject matter is, the details are in their heads but not spoken. Usually conversations are short and/or vague.

Yusuke tells his story to anyone who is willing to listen.

Kurama is more selective, but he'll talk.

Even Hiei will go into detail about his life if anyone lends an ear.

Kuwabara? You can't get anything out of him. If he says anything, it will be short and vague, no details...

Example of a possible scenario:

Kuwabara: "My father would beat me whenever he felt like it."

Shrink: "When and why exactly?"

Kuwabara: "For whatever reason."

Shrink: "Oh. Could you elaborate?"

Kuwabara: "He just did." *drops subject and refuses to answer any further*

See?

Note: As for Mr. Kuwabara, I wouldn't put it passed him to not to have raped Kazuma literally let alone figuratively since he's a major criminal, verbally and physically abusive, and controlling, let alone a psychopath and obviously a Narcissist. These sorts of people ENJOY hurting people, especially targets like Kazuma.

For starters, Kazuma is an Empath, not just a psychic. Empaths attract Narcissists to themselves like moths to a flame, along with all sorts of other bad people.

Rape isn't about wanting pleasure, its about wanting control. It's about HURTING the other person VIOLENTLY and the guilty one does this to have POWER by leaving SCARS.

It would also explain a great deal the reason why Kuwabara is so anxious about gay sex. Japan openly accepts all forms of sexuality and doesn't discriminate. But why is Kuwabara so nervous being around homosexual males then? Most Japanese citizens are comfortable with everyone's sexualities and their own. Kuwabara panics about his own sexuality, let alone everyone else's. His reactions and behavior aren't normal behavior in his country where gay porn is found just about everywhere that sells books, manga, doujinshi, magazines, movies, etc. Kuwabara gets VERY defensive around sexuality and nearly to completely loses his head and composure over it!

He is also very touchy about being MAN ENOUGH and goes out of his way to prove his MANLINESS. Besides rape, I see a lot signs of him being verbally abused, which is another underline beneath it all. His father must tear him down privately, calling him names like "pussy" and "worthless". His father might even compare him to others, including comparing him to his sister, even going as far to say "you're filth" and other abusive lines of that likeness, which would explain why Kuwabara wants to prove himself to have an HONOR CODE. He definitely did not pick up having an CODE OF HONOR from his dear father figure, which goes to show that he does not want to be like him.

Speaking of Empaths, Empaths are naturally individuals who are INTROVERTS, not extroverts. Introverts can have friends, they're just not open books and don't blab about everything, keeping their private lives and private matters private. They refuse to communicate and reveal their own issues to anyone, especially severe ones. You rarely, if at all, will ever know about their hurts and suffering and if at all they allow you to know they won't let or allow you grasp the full extent of it.

Empaths hold in their pain, bottling it up inside.

Because Kazuma gets into violent fights with others, especially with his peers, no one expected child abuse of any sorts. If Kazuma got into fights when he was a teen, then he had violent confrontations when he was a child starting from a young age...

...His own attitude plus his upbringing throw signs and signals at us that early childhood violence and abuse as being a high probability. Shizuru makes it strongly clear that she wants him to engage in violence...while purposely beating the snot out of him at the same time. Most likely, she saw her own father do exactly the same thing to her brother, likewise why Kazuma never does anything about it; i.e. tell his father (or anyone else) about what his sister does to him to help prevent it from happening ever again. Such things are hallmarks. There's more than just psychopathy being the reason. Not all psychopaths physically abuse others, especially if not abused themselves by their parents or a parent. I myself came from an abusive family and had friends who likewise grew up with having abuse in their families. This shit is a common thing with a common theme, abusive parents have abusive kids who get picked on by peers or bully others and end up in violent fights with others outside the family. If the abused kids have siblings, they'll likely abuse the ones younger than them who are usually likewise also abused by their parents. A number of abused children end up as sociopaths by the time they mature, a number of them end up as being criminals and a number as being killers, some of those actually being serial killers or mass shooters. Mental illnesses and disorders makes these matters worse, much worse. Psychopathy and sociopathy are mental disorders, not mental illnesses. Disorders you are born with, illnesses are likely if not prevented. Schizoaffective Disorder is not actually a disorder, it can be prevented but will develop if the right ingredients to cause it present themselves. A Schizophrenic/Schizoaffective person's mind has disturbing thoughts, typically thoughts that are so disturbing that they themselves are disturbed by them themselves to the point of not being able to cope and live with them without doctor prescribed medication. The medications don't make these mental disturbances go away, all they do is numb the patients and their symptoms to a point who take these medications in order to help them cope...

...But Kuwabara is Schizoaffective...?

...Perhaps...

No.

Remember, he's a CHAOS DEITY.

Unlike Yusuke, who was a good kid from the start who gradually got off on the wrong foot, Yusuke got into verbal arguments as a kid, a lot, mostly. He didn't start fighting physically until middle school, more than likely, and he discovered that he was a natural at it to actually being great at it. His mom was a lazy drunkard, his father neglecting him. Yusuke was NOT purposely made a victim of child abuse, let alone abuse of any kind. None of it was truly intentional if any of it got physical. His dad may have a BAD temper.

Kuwabara IS a victim of INTENTIONAL ABUSE. SEVERE ABUSE. And mental disorders and mental illnesses run in his family.

Yusuke just has a moderately dysfunctional family. His parents are separated but keep in contact with one another. The main argument is that the reason why Atsuko separated from Yusuke's father is because Yusuke no longer liked his dad because his dad was rather strict. Strictness is NOT always done out of abuse, but it can lead to being abusive! Atsuko and Mr. Urameshi just didn't see eye to eye on how to raise their son.

Kurama may or may have never known his biological human father, but he does have a step-father and step-brother who like him and treat him well. He has no family issues.

Hiei (and Yukina) never knew their mother or father. While Yukina was raised by cruel and unsympathetic Ice Maidens, Hiei strove to survive. Period. Yukina and Hiei have each other and would officially if Hiei made a move to solidify that. Yukina isn't stupid. She knows he's her brother. She can sense he's her twin like he can sense she's his.

However, Yukina wants mass genocide for the entire Ice Koorime clan that she grew up with, namely for the death of Hiei's and her mother who committed suicide... Even Hiei realized that killing those demonesses is pointless, but Yukina still wishes for their demise, proving that she can hold a far longer grudge than Hiei can. Yukina has a dark side herself, a violent and blood thirsty one, perhaps far worse than Hiei's. She just needs a little push.

Hiei and Kuwabara almost tie for having the worst family life and pasts. Kuwabara's worse than Hiei's, however, since he's lived in his own hell for years with no way to escape as far as Kuwabara can see.

Becoming a criminal himself is a very likely scenario, a very high "more than likely" case. His father is a mob boss, which means Kuwabara grew up knowing such a blackened world, in fact, was more than likely involved in it. Moreover, his father and older sister are Psychopaths, his father also being a Narcissist and a Megalomaniac, likewise Kuwabara has a mental illness called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and no doubt will end up as a Sociopath or even perceived as a Psychopath himself in the long run. He already has some strong Narcissistic tendencies. Narcissistic Disorder is a disorder, not a mental illness like PTSD, and it's a form of Psychopathy and a branch off Psychopathic Disorder like Antisocial Personality Disorder is...

But PTSD can turn into a mental disorder.

One sign or symptom of his sick mentality is his tendencies to give into OBSESSION. Another are his already Narcissistic Tendencies that he possesses which can develop into full blown Narcissism. Kuwabara's EGO is MASSIVE.

Empathic abilities allow one to feel other's emotions strongly, intensely. An Empath can even feel your thoughts.

Being an Empath has added a needed balance in Kuwabara, but it's all a juggling act. The scales can be tipped into one direction or the other, if not one side completely weighed down.

Kuwabara was born in a sea of woe.

He is most likely a Heyoka Empath.

* LINK: THE HEYOKA EMPATH.

* LINK: What Kuwabara's and Yukina's relationship would be like WHEN Yukina is back in Kuwabara's life.

KUWABARA'S HUMAN RIGHTS IN JAPAN?:

"BEWARE OF THE QUIET ONES."

"IT'S ALWAYS THE QUIET ONES."

This is also one reason why I see Kuwabara wearing a mask and a cloak and or a robe when he's a villain. He's secretive. The other reason is his interests in masks in general, which shows in Dachi. He likewise wears a figurative mask in public, always wanting to seem tough and othertimes happy. He's truly THE TRICKSTER of the group.

Like the tropes I posted, which he matches them perfectly... Kuwabara is a monster waiting to come out.

* LINK: HOW EVIL CAN HE BE? HERE ARE EXAMPLES THAT BRUSH THE SURFACE.

WHAT WILL BE HIS POWERS AND ABILITIES?:

What are the CLOWN GOD's powers?

As a TRICKSTER, having increasing psychic abilities, and being THE DEVIL... He no doubt has the ability of ILLUSION as a villain. He can not only disguise himself, but he can really fuck with your head. Like THE DEVIL is known for to have, he has telepathic abilities and can likewise cause ILLUSIONS and make one DELUSIONAL. Being this psychic, he can read you, your mind and your emotions. He'll know your weaknesses and your worst fears. He can channel, communicate in your head from long distances. He will PLAY WITH YOUR MIND.

That is Kuwabara's BEST WEAPON, plus being a shapeshifter. His SECOND BEST WEAPON? He has the power of persuasion, being a tempter he can tempt you into doing anything and convince you to do it, even if your will is strong...humans are far more susceptible and thus easy prey.

His other abilities include levitation, flight, transmutation, telekinesis and psychokinesis, pyrokinesis, necromancy (speaking to the dead), raising the dead from death, powers of death and destruction, premonition, precognition, regeneration, astral projection, remote viewing, energy absorption, creating and destroying, multiplication (he can be in more places at once), and most likely he will know magick. Possibly time manipulation as well, including time jumping (time travel) and universe (multiverse) jumping. Judging by the series, he also has inhuman speed. He can also open doorways and portals. Energy manipulation, the manipulation of his own spirit energy, is part of transmutation.

He generally has the power to WARP REALITY.

* LINK: CONTINUING AND FINALIZING KUWABARA'S KEY ROLE.

Want proof of his identity? Want more proof and info of his life? Go to the link below:

TROPES THAT FIT HIS CHARACTER:

(Please read these.)

PAGE 2:

#yu yu hakusho #yyh #kuwabara kazuma #kazuma kuwabara #yusuke urameshi #kuwabara #hiei #kurama #anime

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adhd-disaster-willie · 4 years ago

Text

Seventeen and strung out on confusion; chapter 1/4

Summary: Just some snippets of backstory for the one and only Alex Mercer; aka my comfort character. Each moment will have a date attached so you can understand the timeline. Angst with fluffy found family moments :)

Warnings: Homophobia, swearing

---

As I’m sure you could guess, there are numerous problems that come with being the only out gay kid at your school in 1994. It’s not so bad if you keep your head down and persuade your friends not to get into a fight with everyone who throws a slur your way, but regardless. That pink hoodie that you’ve been wearing since you were 14 and is honestly too small at this point but your parents refuse to buy you another one? Well it’s a target on your back and apparently everyone at the school is now a professional archer. Or at least, they’re all very proficient in the art of unoriginal insults that cut deeper than they should. All of this is to say, don’t come out to your religious parents in 1994. Ever.

---

Alex Mercer was born into a perfect nuclear family, in a two story house with a white picket fence, brick columns, and a clean cut yard that was unsettlingly green. His parents were as religious as anyone could get; straight-laced, good Catholic parents who kept their hands tight around Alex’s shoulders. He went to church every Sunday and tried to ignore the way his neck itched from the too-tight collar and his mother swatting at his hands until he had to sit on them to refrain from drumming on the nearest surface. He was good at hiding the way he payed undivided attention to his little sister’s ballet classes, good at pretending to stare at the girls in the hallways that all his friends drooled after, and especially good at convincing everyone that he drummed and sang to… impress said girls. Right. But unfortunately, Alex was even better at accidentally outing himself a day into the New Year, consequentially losing all of his parents’ affection.

He didn’t even exist to them anymore. Maybe it would’ve been better if they’d given him a million restrictions and curfews and basically chained his hands together, because this was unsettling. And lonely. Family dinners were a thing of the past, and he’d really begun to sympathize with Reggie and his microwaved, half-cold meals every morning and night. But it could always be worse. They hadn’t kicked him out… yet.

---

January 25, 1994

“Alex, dude!”

Alex flinched upon realizing Reggie’s hand waving in front of his face. He looked up and smiled guiltily, realizing the way he’d frozen, spaced out staring at the wall and absentmindedly hitting his sticks against his legs with a beat that didn’t at all match the song they were supposed to be rehearsing.

Luke sighed, wiping the pout off his face. “Alex, come on man! We aren’t gonna get any gigs if you keep…” He waved his hands vaguely and slapped Alex’s shoulder. “Just, pay attention dude.”

“Right,” Alex replied, his voice strained. He was staring down at his shoes and he could feel his bandmates having a silent conversation above his head which he could only deduce Luke was not happy with, probably meaning they were stopping rehearsal. He didn’t want them to stop for him; it made him feel like a burden, and Luke was right, if they were gonna make it anywhere, they had to be all in.

“Alex, you okay?” Reggie asked, his eyebrows knit together in concern.

Alex nodded briefly and kept his gaze trained on his feet. His sneakers were too small and he had to curl his toes in for them to fit but he was afraid of the reaction he’d get from telling his parents he needed something.

“It’s not one of those homophobic jackasses again, right?” Bobby asked, moving closer, his eyes narrowing. “I swear, this time I will cave Josh’s fucking face in-”

“It’s not!” Alex clarified, finally lifting his head. “It isn’t…” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look it’s just my parents alright? They…”

Reggie’s eyes widened and he began fiddling with his flannel sleeves. “They didn’t… they didn’t hurt you did they?” He asked, his voice small.

“No, no they didn’t hurt me… not physically at least.” He laughed ruefully. “They’re just being stupid, alright? Ignoring me like they have for the past 3 weeks.” Alex stood up, well aware that at this point band practice was a thing of the past. He walked to the couch, the other three boys in tow.

“Hey!” Luke elbowed Alex’s side before throwing an arm over his shoulders. “That new Green Day album is coming out in like, a week.” He grinned, eyes lighting up. “I’ve been saving up to buy it, and we can use that new cassette player I got for Christmas to listen to it.”

Alex nodded, smiling softly and letting his head relax on the back of the couch. “Yea that sounds great. Promise you won’t listen to it without us?”

“Of course ‘Lex; we all gotta be there to find which songs we’re gonna cover.”

Reggie wrinkled his nose in confusion. “I thought you said we’d moved past being a cover band?”

“It’s Luke, he’ll make an exception for anything if it involves Green Day,” Bobby chuckled.

Several beats of silence passed in which the sun seemed to get increasingly lower in the sky, before Bobby sighed in resignation. “You’re all staying here tonight, aren’t you?”

Luke beamed, clapping Bobby’s shoulders. “You know us so well.”

“Sleepover!” Reggie laughed, pumping a fist in the air. “Does it count as a sleepover if we all basically live here at this point?”

“Shhh ‘Lex, don’t ruin our fun,” Luke responded.

Alex smiled hesitantly. Yea, he was okay.

---

May, 1994

Michael Williams had dark hair brushing the tips of his shoulders, eyes that were almost golden in certain lights and a smile that gave Alex butterflies. Not to mention he was in theater and had a reputation for flipping off the homophobic jocks that were constantly on Alex’s tail. Not that he did it specifically for Alex, but still. The only problem was that talking to cute boys that he hadn’t known since 3rd grade was far from Alex’s strong point.

“Come on Alex!” Luke groaned, sliding into the last open seat at their lunch table. “Just talk to him before I literally combust.” He punctuated his sentence by waving at Alex with a cold french fry.

Alex grumbled something, his face in his arms in a futile attempt to hide the red dusting his cheeks.

“Hey Luke, if you explode because Alex refuses to talk to his crush, can I have your CD’s?” Reggie quipped, a lopsided grin on his face.

Luke gasped in mock offense. “Reginald-!”

“Still not my name.”

“I will be buried with my music,” Luke said. “Both of my guitars too-”

“Even your amp?” Bobby questioned.

“Yes.”

“Seems like a waste of space. Can you even fit all that in a coffin?”

Luke shrugged. “You guys can figure it out. Don’t betray my dying wish.”

Something that would’ve been silence had Luke ever been taught how to chew like a normal person passed over the table, in which Alex’s attention drifted lazily back to Michael Williams, who was chatting enthusiastically with one of the girls in his theater class. Alex didn’t know her name but they had biology together and she never gave him dirty looks, so he liked her.

“10 bucks if you go talk to him,” Bobby said, nudging Alex and waggling his eyebrows.

“No. No,” Alex said. “Not happening.”

“15.”

“Where is this money coming from?” Alex squeaked, although the prospect of $15 was all too tempting. He could get some decent shoes for that.

“20,” Bobby continued, grinning maniacally.

“Dude!” Luke laughed. “How are your parents gonna like you asking for money to fulfill a bet?”

Bobby slapped a hand over Luke’s mouth.

“I’m gonna regret this,” Alex sighed, already moving to stand up.

Reggie giggled like a child and offered a shit-eating grin to Alex, who promptly flipped him off before heading across the cafeteria.

---

December 17, 1994

Alex was screwed. No. Alex was completely fucked. Alex Mercer was likely seconds away from living in a ditch. Because of course it had to be his sister who caught him making out with a guy after school. And of course she was too young to understand why she couldn’t tell Mom and Dad. Because she would’ve done the same if he’d been kissing a girl because kissing is gross and it’s funny to tell your parents that your big brother was kissing someone.

“Hey Mom, guess what Alex did today?” Angie asked, giggling. She was perched on the counter, licking frosting from her fingers while their mother brushed cookie crumbs from her dress. And Alex was frozen at the top of the stairs, crouched down, his heart pounding so loud he was sure it could be heard downstairs. He dug his nails into his palms and prayed that his mother would pretend he didn’t exist when he wanted her to. It was one thing, them knowing. But this? This was something else. Alex’s parents lived on the philosophy that homosexual thoughts got you an eternity in hell, but homosexual actions got you shunned and thrown out. So yea, he was screwed.

“What did Alex do today?” His mother asked, plastering a false smile onto her face, her voice sounding like she was already packing his bags. Alex wanted to get up and run. He wanted to go to his room and jump out the window and fly away. But it was like the sweat on his palms was superglue keeping him stuck to the carpet, and his brain had short-circuited.

Angie laughed again, trying to get it out through her snickering. “Alex was kissing someone today.” She sang, her small feet swinging back and forth, the noise of her heels against the counter like knives in Alex’s ears. “That boy Michael that used to go to our church.” The innocence in her voice made Alex ache.

“Angie.” His mother’s voice was cold now. “Leave please.”

Angie’s brow furrowed in confusion, but she scurried up the stairs anyway, giving Alex a tearful hug on the way because even at ten, she knew that that voice meant trouble. “Sorry ‘Lex. I shouldn’t ‘a told your secret,” She whispered, before sprinting to her room and leaving Alex wondering if he’d get to see her after tonight.

“Alex Mercer, please come downstairs.” Her voice chilled him to the bone, like shards of ice penetrating his skin and seeping into his blood. But he walked down anyway.

Alex tightened the muscles in his hands and feet, willing himself to stay still and planted to the wooden floor, facing his mother head-on, as if the look in her eyes wasn’t terrifying him to the point of tears. But he wouldn’t let her see that she was getting to him, he wouldn’t. So he bit his tongue and counted down from ten inwardly.

“What is this nonsense?” She hissed, reaching out and gripping his forearm, her nails a millimeter away from digging into his skin.

Alex swallowed roughly. “I- I don’t know. Angie’s just… she’s-”

“Don’t lie to me!” His mother snapped. She brought her hand back, curling her fingers in with a look of disgust, as if she’d been touching fire. And then she was speaking again, but Alex couldn’t hear her over the pounding in his ears. He tightened his jaw and shut his eyes momentarily. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Get out.”

His eyes snapped open. Alex stood still in front of her, searching her eyes for the slightest bit of remorse. But there was nothing but ice. So he left. He left with tears running down his face and he couldn’t even bring himself to say goodbye to Angie. It wasn’t until he was halfway down the block when he realized that he had nothing but the clothes on his back and a backpack full of everything he could fit, and no where to go. He collapsed on the ground, the cold night air finally hitting him, seeping into his bones. He looked up and wiped his eyes, sniffling. It was odd, the way that the Christmas lights were able to look so beautiful when he felt so broken inside. It felt almost unfair that everything outside of him was moving at a normal pace like nothing had changed. But Alex knew better than that. Everything had changed.

---

These are the people who expressed interest in reading this when I posted about it a few days ago :)

@edgeofgillespie @herequeerandcantdrinkbeer @lookingthroughmirrors

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #can you tell i wasn't born in the 90s lmao #alex mercer #alex mercer jatp #jatp fic #jatp fanfic #reggie peters #luke patterson #bobby wilson #trevor wilson #willow writes

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robotslenderman · 3 years ago

Text

Someone on Reddit was asking why labels were important and I went into a whole goddamn essay because my Vyvanse is kicking in.

TLDR - Labels are important for communication. Without communication, we are isolated. Sexuality is so fundamental to our experiences as human beings that being able to describe those experiences succinctly can mean the difference between feeling isolated and feeling connected. Also sneering at ace people for microlabels dismisses the asexual experience as so unimportant that we SHOULDN'T be able to describe our exact experience of it, when discussing asexuality often requires these labels because of how varied and complicated the asexual experience is.

I've been waffling on the fence about microlabels but I've decided that no, microlabels aren't overthinking it, for the reasons I discuss below. In the past I've reblogged things saying that microlabels are about isolation instead of connection, that further dividing our sexuality into smaller and smaller boxes creates increasingly exclusive clubs.

I no longer believe that. I believe it does the opposite. I believe that being in touch with your sexuality just as much as you need to helps you connect to others even outside your microlabel, not just within it, because then it makes it clearer to everyone involved what experiences you have in common and makes it easier to set aside the ones you don't.

You don't understand how important labels are until you've struggled without one. It's human nature to use language to describe our experiences, and when we don't have the language to do so it is stressful and isolating. Because language is how we connect to other people, so when we can't use easy language to summarise our experiences, it becomes isolating.

My personal experience - I struggled with my asexuality for years, even before I began to realise that I was asexual. Even once I started letting myself admit it, I didn't feel that the word "asexual" was enough. Sure, I could explain to people "I'm asexual and don't want to have sex, but I love sex in theory and in novels and I love reading about romance and daydreaming about them, but don't want a relationship." That's a very specific type of asexuality that people don't think of when they hear "asexual". People hear "asexual" and think "doesn't like sex."

But people use labels because others don't want to stick around and listen to your dissertation on what your sexuality actually is, they want bite sized information as soon as possible and sometimes YOU want to describe who you are without spending a ton of time explaining it. It's not just because I want to understand myself, it's because I want other people to, too, and labels is how we communicate. It's the fundamentals of how language works. Labels are so important that they consist of two entire grammatical categories - adjectives and nouns.

So when I found out about aegosexuality? I was like "oh thank god, I'm not a broken asexual, I'm this specific TYPE of asexual."

Most people haven't heard of aegosexuality. I used to actually roll my eyes at microlabels like that, thinking it was needlessly self absorbed and pretentious. But now I get it. Now I have the ABILITY to summarise my experiences in one word, and it turns out that having that ability to use language efficiently to describe myself has brought me quite a significant amount of peace. Because when I tell people I'm asexual, they often have a certain idea in their heads of what asexuality is, and I don't fit under most of that. Many asexuals don't, because asexuality is the most complicated sexuality there is.

But god is it fucking exhausting to say "I'm asexual" and then have to hold a fucking Q and A session about how I'm asexual and yes, I really am asexual even though I'm not adhering to someone else's idea of what asexuality is. By knowing I'm aegosexual, I can say, "oh, you're thinking of X type of asexuality, which is when you experience Y. I'm aegosexual, which means that I still get horny and love sex in fiction, but I don't personally want to experience it, unlike X type of sexuality which doesn't like sex at ALL."

And then people get it! They don't get "I'm asexual, but different." That just makes them think I'm not actually asexual, or that I'm an allo in denial who needs therapy to be "fixed". They get "I'm asexual, but this specific type of asexuality that has a name." People respond to names. People respond to labels. They GET labels, even ones they haven't heard of, even ones they roll their eyes at because they think we're over thinking it because they assume that because their sexuality is so fucking simple, everyone else's must be too.

I still tell people I'm asexual because a lot of the time my type of asexuality isn't actually important. Actually, most of the time I tell them I'm queer and leave it vague because queer is a wonderful umbrella word and my sexuality isn't anyone's business. For me, "queer" is often enough because it communicates that my experience isn't a straight one, and that's usually all people need to know.

But having that label just on *hand* that describes my experiences, and having the option to use it to people who do know what it means, and being able to hand it to people who are lost like I used to be lost -

That's powerful. It's important. It *matters*.

It's not like needing a label for yourself because you prefer pineapple on pizza, this is sexuality, this is the kind of thing that makes or breaks your experiences with other human beings. When you're straight your sexuality is so simple and easy that you don't even need to think about it. You're straight. That's easy. And as homosexuality becomes more accepted I'm seeing baby gays start to take that attitude as well because they're gay and as homosexuality becomes less stigmatised, it's allowed to become more simple.

But other sexualities don't have that luxury.

Bisexuality and pansexuality are more complicated because often people experience a split attraction model, or they don't have equal attraction to different genders and they're not fully comfortable describing themselves as bi or pan because again, people hear "bisexual" or "pansexual" and assume that you experience the same amount of attraction to different genders and it's important to be able to communicate to people that no, you don't. The whole point of using a word is so that the other people understand you - if they don't understand the word, they don't understand YOU. So I think bisexuality and pansexuality is also a spectrum in that there's different types of both depending on how your attraction works, and that it would help bi and pan people to have more specific words - using bisexual and pansexual as an umbrella term much like queer and asexual - to allow them to better communicate their experiences.

And asexuality is, I think, the most complicated sexuality of all. It's based not just on who you're attracted to, like other sexualities, but if you're attracted at ALL. No other sexuality has a footnote attached of "but this one likes sex" or "this one doesn't like sex" or "this one is indifferent to sex". Even bisexuality and pansexuality don't. It also has the contradictory feature of involving some level of attraction - demisexuals and grey aces experience attraction! Just only under specific circumstances. The split attraction model is also much more significant; whereas some bisexual people are explicitly homo- or heteroromantic, many asexuals are not aromantic, and many aromantic people are not asexual. This is far more common with us.

It's also the ONLY sexuality where the split attraction communities are actively hostile to each other. Aromantic people have lately been slinging a lot of shit at asexual people because in their need to be told apart from us (I say "us" even though I'm aromantic myself because I'm also asexual), some have gone to the extreme of showing outright hostility to asexual people and show offence for being associated with us at all. When I thought that I was bi, for example, I NEVER saw this kind of shit between homoromantic bis, heteroromantic bis and biromantic bis. Only the asexual and aromantic community has this hostility.

I respect that aros don't want people to mistake them for asexual people and that's important for the same reasons I've been discussing in this entire essay, but here I'm referring to outright hostility aimed AT asexuals because of other people's failures to understand them. "Aromanticism isn't the same as asexuality" is not hostility. Treating asexual people like garbage - or even aroace people because they dare to exist as asexual AND aromantic - is hostility. This hostility is rising.

So asexuality is deeply complicated, and when you have completed concepts, you need simple labels to communicate that. And frankly - allos don't fucking get it. Bi and pan people do to a certain level, but their sexuality, while more complicated than being gay or straight, is still not as complicated as asexuality. That's not a bad thing, having a more complicated sexuality doesn't make us superior, nor is complication the same thing as depth. Other sexualities are not shallow for lacking the same level of complication, nor should they be taken less seriously.

But it does mean each sexuality has nuance to it that you can't understand without being that sexuality, and it's vital not to fall into the same trap straight people do that your experience of sexuality applies to everyone else, of assuming that because your sexuality isn't complicated to you that it must be the same for everyone else or we're overthinking it. And it's important for us to be able to succinctly sum up our sexuality so that we can share our experiences.

People who've never faced that don't understand how important it is to feel connected to people by being able to efficiently describe yourself. To use language is to connect, to use language and labels is to communicate. Without that, it's an isolating experience, simply because people do not fucking want to hear you bring out a PowerPoint presentation to talk about yourself when they just want one word. And when you're talking about something that defines your human experience, that makes your ability to communicate it THE difference between being isolated and disconnected, and feeling human.

Having different levels of labels helps, too. Sure, I'm aegosexual, but even if most people knew what that meant, most of the time it's completely fucking irrelevant. Most of the time all I need to do is say I'm queer - because I'm communicating that my experience isn't a straight one (or a cis one, if you're queer because of your gender). Sometimes I need to say I'm aroace, or just asexual, because that's what the conversation calls for. It's only when discussing asexuality itself that I actually need to say I'm aegosexual - but that's important, too.

Discussion of asexuality is no less important than being able to say I'm ace, or that I'm queer, and a lot of allos think that distinguishing yourself from straight people is important, that distinguishing yourself from non straight people is important, but asexuality itself is so unimportant that we're not allowed to distinguish ourselves among each other. And that's just another form of aphobia. It doesn't mean that we're going "ew, we're not THOSE asexuals" like I've been seeing in the arosexual community lately, it's being able to say "this is my experience of asexuality, so I'm viewing our discussion through THIS lens, whereas you might not."

And it's so fucking typical that allos think that that shouldn't be important to us. I regret ever thinking the same.

At the end of the day, we need language. It describes our experiences, and without being able to describe those experiences, we are isolated. We need language and labels to connect.

#Dusty has opinions #I need to stop talking on the internet when my Vyvanse kicks in #I just don't fucking stop

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