UGH daigo who pretends to wanna see strip shows and go drinking as a 12 year old because he knows everyone around him isn't cool with him being a kid, so he tries to be less lame, to be more convenient. yeah, you can take me anywhere. in fact, you have to. i'll show you just how grown i am.
daigo who sheaths himself in black clothes, all bark and some bite, all dark and mysterious. all touch me and you'll get burned. playing hard to get. not that he doesn't want to be alone, but he sure as hell doesn't want to be lonely. and for that people have to like him. want to follow him. he's got to be a magnet. leave me alone, i'm not worth your time. so whoever picked him up from the gutter would really have to want him.
daigo who struggles to get his men in line as sixth chairman. daigo who only took the job because kiryu finally needed him. daigo who's never as good as the fourth chairman (who retired after a day, who never had to be chairman). daigo who never holds that against kiryu.
daigo who does what needs to be done, daigo who makes impossible decisions. daigo who rises to the occasion and swears in, daigo determined to be a better man than sohei ever was. daigo who sees the clan as his family, and tries to protect everyone in it. daigo who refuses to screw over kiryu's new family, and daigo who is shot for it. daigo who keeps the clan from tearing each other apart, whose absence brings out the worst in them. daigo who wakes up from a coma and saves kiryu and mine, daigo who comforts mine after, unable to even sit up properly. daigo who takes on a whole baseball team to protect his high school baseball team, daigo who's expelled and thrown in juvie for it. daigo who takes the hit because he knows he'll be yakuza someday anyway. daigo who protects his city. daigo who protects his men. daigo who works a way to offer his broke high school buddy millions of yen and another chance at his dream into his plans. daigo who shows his enemies mercy, daigo who rushes out injured to save the people who've helped him. daigo who tries to get kiryu off charges, who tries to push him to stay with his new family. daigo who loves his father fiercely, daigo who can be relied on. daigo who takes care of people.
daigo who kiryu gives the guidance he needs. daigo who kiryu pulls from depression, daigo who kiryu comes to rescue. majima comes back to the yakuza for, and kiryu who makes him, so he's not alone. daigo who shows mine what it means to care for others, why that's a trait worth dying for. daigo who mine feels he is not worthy of, daigo for whom mine sacrifices himself. daigo whom kiryu covers up mine's betrayal for because he didn't want to hurt him, and because mine was better than that. daigo who's forgiven for selling out majima, for getting caught in something stupid. daigo the "little chef". daigo who kiryu nearly jumps off a building to reach when he's shot, and saejima who holds him back. kiryu who leaves a letter for him, and not haruka, the always-chosen. daigo who's joined by saejima and majima when the tojo crumbles and they have to hide. daigo whose men follow him in the security company afterwards.
daigo who needed to be loved. daigo who loved anyway. daigo who was loved.
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you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.
you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.
so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.
you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.
you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.
you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.
you know you broke the rule by interacting.
but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.
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HI IT'S SQUISHY fic ask game time:
F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.
I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?
R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?
X: A character you enjoy making suffer.
:3
YAHOO HI SQUISHY TY FOR THE ASK >:33
ok uhhhh uh uh
F: i think if i had to choose anything, it'd probably be the cat petting circle scene from and who do you think i'll be (without you)?, because i am. really really bad at juggling more than like 3 characters in a scene and this has FIVE and it's still really fun to read, at least for me. it's dynamic, though admittedly the attention still mostly falls on kuwabara and yusuke (sorry keiko </3 i wish you were more prominent in this one but alas) everyone carries some weight. i'm also not great at understanding (and thus writing) anger, so yusuke's bubbling frustration through the scene is like.. kinda cool to me. (a/n: eikichi is kuwabara's cat lol)
i'm also including another two from this same fic bc i think they're neat as well :)
(i'll put a transcript of the screenshots at the end under the read more)
honestly, i love writing yusuke's dialogue no matter what he's saying, so this fic's got a few moments i'm very fond of, but didn't include. anyway it's the only good thing i've ever written (<- exaggerating, but it's probably my favorite fic i've written, and maybe favorite prose piece)
i also remember enjoying some of the dialogue between sagawa and majima in tough love for loveless things, and i assume i liked a lot of the stuff for i long for you and your expert hands, but i... haven't revisited that one in a long time (idk why but i'm a little afraid to?? i haven't forgotten it though), so i couldn't point to anything specific really ^ ^'
I: hm... i think i overindulge in characters just talking about nothing, at least when it comes to my writing. if i like them, i like hearing them talk about nothing, and it tends to bloat scenes and drag on, i figure. i also tend to gravitate towards really specific intensely described points of imagery that barely come up again and totally break the flow of the scene (oops). in terms of guilty pleasures in reading, uh...? i'm kind of a sucker for werewolf stuff because i got that dog in me. im drawing a blank ig sorry <3 OH i've always been hopelessly fond of whump / hurt/comfort / sickfic STUFF. legit since i was a child. i like it when they're out of it i like it when they're woozy. and anything with dumb hijinks and/or slapstick is good to me. comedy's hard and i like seeing idiots be idiots. and really introspective/inner monologue heavy pieces are mmmmwah for writing and reading
R: oh man. whatever i'm currently reading often ends up influencing my writing in noticeable (to me) ways. one time i was writing smth for my fiction writing class and i typed out a sentence that felt at once like smth dr seuss would write (you'll never guess what unit my children's lit class was on) and a line from lolita (because that's what i was reading at the time). it's a mashup that worked weirdly well. ANYWAY to actually answer the question, the little prince ruined me as a kid, and a lot of the way i express sadness and emptiness is channeling saint-exupery there. currently, arkady martine and andzrej sapkowski have been influencing my scenery descriptions in particular, because that's what i was most recently reading, but earlier this year i remember cormac mccarthy's the road finding its way under my pen a lot. for really flowery stuff (i don't think you see it much in my fics, but it's not Never), i think of alfred tennyson's maud quite often. this is not a conclusive list im just empty brained :P
X: ohhohohohohhh. god help me but i love making all of them suffer. to love something is to vivi/dissect it. currently kuwabara is the one i'm putting through the most though (<- channeling personal issues into this orange guy), but majima and kiryu were always lots of fun to break down >:). perhaps that's the real answer to the guilty pleasure section
[SCREENSHOT 1]:
“Hey, why’s she goin’ to Kurama and you and not me?” Yusuke complained, pouting at Keiko.
Kuwabara piped up. “Maybe it’s ‘cuz they have manners, unlike some of us.”
“Or patience,” Botan offered.
Yusuke stuck out his leg and prodded Kuwabara’s arm. “Yeah, and how’re your manners workin’ out for ya? You still look like someone’s been playin’ tic-tac-toe on your hands or did she become a saint overnight?”
“Shut up, Urameshi.”
Keiko spoke up from her spot on the floor. “Aw, I think she’s just sweet. Right?” She put her chin on her folded arms and gently rubbed at Eikichi’s cheek. With a warm smile, Keiko turned her head into her arms further, squishing her face, openly endeared. “Even if she bites sometimes.”
“Finally, someone gets it,” Kuwabara moaned. “Keiko, tell Urameshi that for me, will ya?”
Yusuke didn’t buy it. “If she was sweet she’d be sweet to me, too.”
“Benevolence is nearly always conditional,” Kurama said, leaning over to rub Eikichi’s ears. “Perhaps she senses your standoffishness and simply chooses not to engage with someone who does not seem to want her.” Kurama’s brilliant green eyes swept back to Yusuke for emphasis. “You two may have that in common.”
“Wh—?!” Yusuke spluttered a bit, before settling on, “Watch it, fox boy.”
“Aw,” Botan giggled, “Yusuke, it’s alright, you know. Some of us just have an animal-like charm. Meow meow!” She hooked her hands like paws.
“Right, and I’m saying Eikichi’s not so charming. I mean, she’s been ignoring you, too, Botan, whaddyou think?”
“Oh, she’s just lovely! Simply adorable,” Botan cooed.
“Heheh, looks like you’re outnumbered, Urameshi!”
[SCREENSHOT 2]:
Rocking his chair back lazily, Yusuke noticed Kuwabara’s scratch-laced hands and whistled. “Damn, Kuwabara. It’s kinda beating you up, huh? That cat o’ yours. You look like you just fought me, only smaller.”
“For the last time, Urameshi, Eikichi’s a she! Quit it with the it crap or I’ll knock you into next Sunday brunch.” He jabbed his chopsticks at Yusuke pointedly. “And I don’t think you could get any smaller.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. She’s beating the shit outta you. But what’s with that? I thought kittens were s’posed to be all cute n’ cuddly.” Yusuke swirled his drink thoughtfully before taking a swig.
“You’ve never had a kitten, have you, Urameshi?” Kuwabara deadpanned. He had the right to do that now that he was a cat-rearing expert, as if he hadn't learned it very recently himself.
“No. ’M not really crazy about animals. Neither's my mom.” Under his breath, Yusuke added, “Knowing her, that’s probably for the best.”
“Wh—? How?!”
Yusuke shrugged.
Kuwabara huffed. “Ugh, she’s teething right now, okay? And I haven’t got her a scratching post yet. She’ll grow out of it, you’ll see.”
“Whatever you say, man. Just try not to lose any limbs waiting for her to get manners, arright? Don’t wanna make our fights even more one-sided. That’d just be sad.”
“Yeah, right, Urameshi.” Kuwabara puffed out his chest. “Eikichi could take two o’ my limbs and I’d still wipe the street with ya.”
“Hey, try beating me with four limbs first, tough guy.”
The conversation devolved into threats and bickering from there, culminating in little more than wrinkled uniforms and mussed hair-dos, and one final exchange.
“You haven’t even met her, Urameshi, so how could you know what she’s like?”
“‘Cuz you’re carryin’ the proof right there, stupid! Look, don’t take it so personal. I just don’t feel like spending all day roughhousing with someone that far beneath my weight class, even if she is the precious little angel you say she is."
[SCREENSHOT 3]:
Yusuke lounged on the floor, Eikichi sitting on his chest and staring down at him.
“What’re you starin’ at, Stinkass?”
Kuwabara scoffed loudly, fluffing out the pillow Yusuke would use.
Yusuke smirked at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, your highness, I left my manners at home.” He cleared his throat. “What are you staring at, Her Royal Majesty the Queen Stinkass?”
“Man, why'dya only pick mean pet names to give ‘er?” It came out a bit harsher than he meant.
“What?” Yusuke began to sit up, but stopped when he remembered Eikichi’s place on him. He dropped back down and shut his eyes lazily. “These aren’t pet names, they’re, like, insults. That I don’t mean.”
“So ‘Stinkass’ is your idea of an affectionate nickname?”
“Gee, you don’t have to make it sound so damn girly. I’m just callin’ her that ‘cause I like her.”
“Ooh~ so you like her, huh?” Kuwabara sat up on his knees and—once Eikichi got the hint and clambered off—smacked Yusuke’s face with his pillow, holding it over his face. “Whatever happened to not bein’ mushy, tough guy?”
Yusuke wrenched the pillow from his grip and lazily swung it at him, not bothering to get up. “Hey, you told me she doesn’t judge about that sorta thing, right? And I’m learnin’ there’s benefits to bein’ mushy, like kicking ass better.” He shifted to crack his back, then sighed, relaxing into the floor. “I’m just sticking to my way, and sometimes that means calling her Kuwabara’s Favorite Little Shitblaster or whatever.”
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