Ryuji having the worst bi crisis of his fucking life bc his mom just had to fucking ask “oh, whats this young ladys name?” when he showed her a picture of Akira petting Morgana. Like okay yeah Akira is like objectively pretty, hes like the Classic Delicate Pretty Boy just like Yusuke which is like whatever; straight dudes have eyes, and they know what women like to see. But now hes like. Seeing things he likes in girls IN Akira now and he cant make it Stop like its genuinely keeping him up at night 😭
Pretty boy used to be A Face that would come up in his mind when he thought of the term. There was no specifics in mind, just like. Pretty Boy. Pretty boy! You say that and theres like a Face Template that shows up in ur minds eye and hed just attribute that to any dude who was like Vaguely Pretty. But now its Akira 😭 and he finds himself cataloging things that Akira does that he KNOWS he finds cute when girls do it. The hairtuck behind the ears. The headtilt when he mishears a question. The Actually Pretty Doe Eyes. The breathy, nearly inaudible chuckle he does in place of a Real laugh (thats made better by the fact that its so hard to get him to laugh in the first place). He likes cute snacks. He blushes easily. Ryuji is sitting here like ‘theres no fucking way man. Like theres just no way. That shit makes NO sense (a lie)’ lying in bed in the middle of the night looking like this vvvv w his phone in his hands (looking at pictures of akira)
It drives him insane bc like he did Not see any of these things as like inherently girly or whatever. Like thats just akira thats just his bro! And he does OTHER weird shit that cancels all that shit out. Hes like a messy engineer/tinkerer, he rolls out of bed and whatever situation his hair is is everyones problem. He wears that AWFUL gym uniform and doesnt tweak it AT ALL?? He likes baseball?? hes got a whole binder of trading cards that he will show off if u show any moment of weakness. Like hes just Some Dude but also manages to be Some Girl at the same time and Ryuji is like thats not fair. Life sucked ass but at least it made sense before Akira stumbled into it 😭
430 notes
·
View notes
kakashi leaves marks.
bruises shaped like fingerprints, the sharp indents of his teeth, his nails. they linger on your skin for hours, sometimes days.
he doesn't always mean to. in fact, the first time he sees the dark tattoos on your hips left by his hands, he panics.
i'm sorry i'm sorry i didn't mean to hurt you.
he's long used to inflicting so much damage--pain, death--with his hands. he's tried so hard to scrub them clean only to find them stained red again and again. the thought that he might have hurt you? especially while he's trying to love you? he can't bear it.
it takes a long time to assure (and reassure and reassure and reassure) him enough for his shoulders to stop shaking. you capture his face between your hands, press your forehead against his tenderly, nose to nose.
breathe with me.
in and out, in and out, nice and slow, chests rising and falling in tandem. kakashi cages your hands with his own, you can feel the nervous sweat slicked over his palms, the slight tremor that dissipates a little more with each breath until it's finally gone.
i'm sorry.
his whisper is so soft, you almost miss it, even this close. his voice hitches in the middle of the apology, and you pull away just far enough to draw his gaze to yours.
you tell him there is nothing to apologize for, he swears he's hurt you. you want to laugh, but stop yourself because you know it's not the time. know it will hurt him the way he thinks he's hurt you.
but what he's inflicted upon you is the opposite of pain and you need him to understand.
you rub your thumbs over his cheekbones, relishing the slight scratch of silver stubble, waiting for his facial muscles to relax in the wake of your gentle touch so you can tell him:
i like when you leave marks.
and you do. you love to stare at the bruises in the mirror, trace them with your fingers while you recall all the things he did to leave them, especially when he's away on a long mission. you tell him he once left a bite mark at the juncture of your neck and shoulder the night before a long assignment and when you saw it the next morning, your knees buckled as pleasure flashed through you.
kakashi groans and you finally allow yourself to laugh.
i know you would never hurt me.
it's true, and you spend the rest of that night letting him trace your body with his teeth, his strong hands, allowing him, encouraging him, to carve his adoration into every centimeter of your body with patient attention.
it awakens something in kakashi he never expected, some primal need long buried finally coaxed to the surface. welcomed with open arms and long sighs and heady moans.
rewarded in the morning with new bruises in all your favorite places.
kakashi leaves plenty more marks after that. now that he knows you like it (and that he likes it just as much; maybe more), there's no reason for him to hold back.
946 notes
·
View notes
I keep seeing discourse on my dash about whether or not we should be teaching ~challenging~/emotionally rough books in elementary and middle school, and I think there's a very important point that all of this discourse is eliding.
What counts as "too rough/traumatizing" heavily depends on the kid.
Two kids in the same class, from the same background, at the same developmental and reading level, might have wildly different reactions to a book. To take an example that's less likely to generate insufferable discourse than anything dealing with ~marginalization~:
Say you have two kids in the same class. One kid is a sensitive, sweet soul who loves dogs more than anything in the world. The other kid just lost their dog, is still grieving, and needs some catharsis.
Your class is supposed to read Old Yeller, or some other kids' book about The Death Of A Dog.
For the first kid, that book is likely to mess them up a little. It might seem like brutality for the sake of brutality. They might not fully understand the concept of death yet, or they may not be ready to grapple with the idea that dogs can die. It might be something they need to read, even if it'd mess them up- but it might also just hurt without any real benefit.
For the second kid... whether they're ready to read that book would heavily depend on how they're grieving and whether they're ready to think about a dog dying. It might trigger them and make them feel worse. But it might actually be helpful for them and make them feel less alone. Other kids have had to deal with their dogs dying and have lived through it. It might give them emotional tools they need to get through this.
But unless you know these kids really well and have the chance to tailor how you teach the book to them? You're likely to screw both of them up without any real benefit.
If they have to fill out fifty million worksheets about What The Dog Dying Means In Old Yeller, they're going to have to think about something they're not ready to think about over and over again. They're not likely to learn whatever you're trying to teach them about death or empathy or tragedy- they're just going to remember that English class was about depressing books about dogs dying and remember how much it hurt to get through. And they're going to be put off reading anything you might read in English class, because it's just going to hurt, right?
The one-size-fits-all model of education most schools are being forced to adopt means that we can't mold what kids read around what they need and are ready to hear; we have to make every kid read the same thing, at the same pace, with the same worksheets.
You can't decide, 'hey, this kid might not be ready for this particular book, here's a book that hits some of the same thematic notes but is less graphic'.
You can't take the time to make sure that a student who's reading a book that might be rough for them is okay, give them time to decompress and debrief, or let them process what they're having to deal with. You can't let them take a break from the book after they hit a point that is graphic or triggering. You can't let them sit with their feelings about it.
You can't take the time to make sure that the marginalized students in the class are okay after reading a book about oppression that affected people like them, or take the time to make sure that their non-marginalized classmates who said boneheaded things about the book know why what they said wasn't okay without publically yelling at them.
Hell, you can't even choose books based around what your students would be interested in and want to read. You have to make a lesson plan to teach like 50 students; you don't have time to pick things based around their individual likes and dislikes.
Nope. It's just on to the next book, the next worksheet, the next test.
Teachers are forced to take on classes that are way too big for any one person to manage, teach emotionally hefty books without giving kids time to process what they've learnt, and teach to tests instead of giving kids time to empathize and understand.
The problem is not specific books. The problem is not privileged people's fragility. The problem is not even individual teachers. The problem is a systemic problem with how American schools teach literature.
Until we fix the system? Yeah, plenty of kids are gonna get fucked up from reading Lord of the Flies or Where the Red Fern Grows when they're not ready to tackle it. Because their teachers do not have the time or spoons to gauge whether they're ready, and do not have the luxury of letting their students deal with things at their own pace.
3K notes
·
View notes