#backwardswriter

‘his and Yuuri's love is too powerful to be ashamed‘ okay I love that *wipes tear*

I’d actually like very much to write a little story about the first Swiss Christopher Street Day (which is an alternative name for Pride in German-speaking countries), which was held in Zürich in 1978. They’d be in their sixties then, having come through the spate of ‘rent boy murders’ and the Swiss police crackdown of the early 1960s, and seen a wave of legalisations all over Europe thanks to the growing power of the new, more radical movement of the 60s and 70s.

I can hardly begin to imagine what it would feel like, having survived both Stalinist Russia and Nazi Germany, to be part of that demonstration of pride and demand for liberation both. I think he’d have come through to a place of self-assurance and pride well before that, but there’s a big difference between feeling that privately, behind closed doors, and standing on the street with hundreds of other people and making it something that everyone can see. It’s easy to forget how brave the first Pride marches were- even in places where gay sex wasn’t against the law, to be open about it was to risk extreme social censure, and yet people went out with their heads held high and said, yes, I’m gay, and I will no longer allow you to pretend otherwise. It was a truly incredible time.

Okay, I thought about this, and you got me really excited so here we go. -cracks knuckles-

Note: I am that weird child who doesn’t use beauty products/routines and doesn’t understand them… if there are things that are wrong here please let me off…

Yuuri

General: Yuuri doesn’t really have a routine as such. Looking good isn’t really something he thinks about, so he sticks to the usual ‘routines’: washing his face with average soap, shampoos his hair every few days, he’ll let Minako drag him to get waxed or pluck his eyebrows if she nags him for long enough. 

Before competitions: He washes his face to try and calm himself down (since the nerves will probably start getting a hold of him once he starts getting ready), and will start with his costume. Depending on what costume he’s wearing, he might need to wax or shave the night before. Most of the time is spent getting his hair right before he takes his glasses off, but he has never really bothered with make-up since he can’t do it without his glasses on. Thankfully, he’s got good skin, and doesn’t need it that much. 

Victor oh boy here we go

General: Victor has his beauty routines timed down to the second, both morning and night. It involves a lot of products: moisturiser, cleansers, a lot of sun protection if he’s going outside (pale skin). He likes using beauty treatments at least every weekend: face masks and exfoliating after shaving, all that stuff. 

Before competitions: Victor is precise. The whole night before he has to shave, moisturise, cleanse, clean. Everything is perfect and it has to stay that way. Victor is pale as fuck, so naturally when he goes on the ice and on TV he needs a hell of a lot of make-up to keep him from looking dead under the lights. Foundation is a must, and he reapplies whenever he has to. His make-up and hair is done first (this used to take so long when he had longer hair), and then he gets into his costume at the last possible minute. 

Victor had been bowing deeply and saying ohayō gozaimasu to everyone they met, from the staff at Haneda Airport to the conductor on their train to Fukuoka.

“I’ve got to get it right,” he said, in much less formal French, once they’d boarded the slow, tiny train heading along the coast to Hasetsu. “I don’t want to offend your family.”

Ahead of them, a little group of boys were peeking over their seats to stare at Victor. Even after years of occupation, it seemed that blond-haired, blue-eyed Westerners were quite the novelty. Victor seemed to either not notice or not mind, but while the curiosity of children was understandable Yuuri had already had to stare down several men and even a few women on their journey from Tokyo.

If nothing else, it gave him something to focus on that wasn’t the boiling pit of nerves in his stomach. The last time he saw his family, he had just turned twenty-two and was trying to fight off despair at his imminent posting to Berlin. He was thirty-six now and a different man entirely. For all their letters and their kind words, he had no idea how he was really going to be received.

Past Itoshima the railway ran along the coastline, only a few metres of road between them and the deep, wide expanse of the Sea of Japan. Victor leaned his body against Yuuri’s on the pretext of trying to look out of the window, and Yuuri watched the way the Kyushu sunshine played over his face, the gleam of the water reflected in his eyes. It was as if two threads of his life were finally converging, like the tracks had actually reached their vanishing point.

His feet felt heavy as they disembarked in Hasetsu, Victor determinedly linking their arms when Yuuri refused to let him carry both suitcases. The station looked almost identical to the way he remembered it, except for the notable absence of the wartime propaganda posters. He wasn’t sure if Hasetsu had a taxi service now, but if not they were going to have quite a walk to his parents’ house. As they passed into the station foyer, though, Victor yanked hard on his arm, and when Yuuri looked up he could barely breathe. 

They looked older and yet somehow exactly the same, as if all the intervening years had slipped away. He looked his mother in the eyes for the first time in fourteen years, and saw that hers were filling up with unshed tears.

I posted 5,148 times in 2022

That's 1,458 more posts than 2021!

129 posts created (3%)

5,019 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@backwardswriter

@superwharvelock

@simplydalektable

@jekkies

@baekwin

I tagged 1,307 of my posts in 2022

#quiet prolonged cackling - 183 posts

#kylie speaks - 151 posts

#extraordinary attorney woo - 128 posts

#the hold this series and joongryeon have on me... - 123 posts

#it's joongryeon brainrot hours - 96 posts

#shit management enterprises does a lot of dumb things but smfam is forever - 81 posts

#lee soohyuk - the tallest most handsome man to ever brood - 79 posts

#it's missing shinee time which happens to be all the time - 69 posts

#dumbass kpop uncles - 45 posts

#why is my evil baby cheese so pretty - 41 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#in nyc they just knock and drop it off. if i'm fast enough i yell thanks down the hallway - they only call when they cant find the entrance

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

me, watching jung myeongseok cough up blood: oh no here we go, we’re hitting the Last Few Episodes of pure chaos and drama

like...can we NOT ??

32 notes - Posted August 5, 2022

#4

don't mind me, i'm just thinking about when (and why) joong-gil decided to start wearing gloves as part of his outfit when working 🙃🙃

they definitely weren't a part of the older joseon uniforms, and it seems like he only started doing it when they switched to western clothing

but i know we are all overthinking about why he wears them and when he chooses to take them off 🙈

32 notes - Posted May 15, 2022

#3

randomly thinking about how ryung-gu had the title of "manager" on the RM team which literally consisted of just him and ryeon before junwoong showed up...

i imagine that he got the manager position simply bc he snarkily told ryeon and the director that "managing a team of one (myself) is really hard, so i should be promoted" or smth along that line.

something like "i'm really hard to manage."

36 notes - Posted May 19, 2022

#2

i'm fully embracing my lee soohyuk brainrot hours, courtesy of tomorrow

i like my men tall and brooding okay

48 notes - Posted May 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

nope, i’m not okay

source: cosmicsticks

145 notes - Posted January 14, 2022

crudités (croo-duh-tay) !

THAT’S IT!

AUTHOR: backwardswriter

May 28th, 2014 - Bonfire Hearts

It had been hours. Hours. Arthur’s lower back was screaming in agony, his hips felt like they’d never move again, and his arse was on an all out strike. He couldn’t remember the time he’d gone for this long before and his body was absolutely rebelling against the harsh treatment. And for good reason.

No matter what Alfred said, human bodies were not designed to be on horseback for an entire day.

Arthur had agreed to a visit to Alfred’s family ranch, thinking it a lovely way to get to know his boyfriend better. They’d only been dating for a few months and Arthur hadn’t even known Alfred’s family owned a ranch. It seemed like a perfect first holiday away together.

The ranch was beautiful, just as Alfred had described when he’d asked Arthur to visit with him and during the entire drive down from the city. A huge expanse of land scattered with mesquite trees and cattle, with the ranch house and barn directly in the center on a hill just high enough to allow a spectacular three-sixty view of the property.  When they’d first arrived, Arthur had been in awe of the picture-perfect scenery.

They’d spent the night together in the ranch house, which was large and rustic and comfortable. And, most importantly, empty save for them. They’d taken full advantage of that. But over breakfast, Alfred had announced that that day would be spent entirely on horseback. He wanted to show Arthur the lay of the land as it was meant to be seen. After a bit of convincing, Arthur agreed to the idea. He’d had riding lessons as a child- though in English style rather than Western- and had to admit he was eager to get back in the saddle, so to speak.

Of course, now, he was severely regretting it. They’d been in the saddle since noon, after they’d packed supplies and saddled their mounts- Alfred had mercifully given him the old mare rather than the spirited gelding- and now the sun was beginning to set. Arthur was starting to think he may never walk right again.

“Alfred, how much longer until we get back to the house?” he finally called out, voice exhausted and admittedly a bit whiny.

Alfred looked back at Arthur, pulling his horse to a halt and frowning. He’d been animatedly explaining the history of the largest tree on the ranch, which they’d passed about an acre back, and was a bit put off that Arthur had just interrupted him like that. But he was really more confused than anything. “Back to the house?” he asked. “Honey, we ain’t goin’ back.”

Arthur blinked before frowning and frantically twisting around, looking for some sign of the ranch house, as if Alfred was joking and it was really just around the next shrub. “What do you mean we’re not going back?!” he exclaimed, too caught up in that to bother reprimanding Alfred on the use of that obnoxious pet name.  

“I told you we were gonna spend the day outside,” Alfred said, an amused arch in his eyebrows. “What’d you think I meant?”

Arthur stared at him for a moment. “That we were going to spend the night inside?!” he finally exclaimed, making a jerky gesture with his free hand. “Alfred, where are we going to sleep? What are we going to eat? What about animals?!”

“Calm down,” Alfred chuckled, turning his bay around and walking back so that he was side-by-side with Arthur. “You gotta give me a little more credit than that. I’ve thought it through, I promise. Why do you think I took me so long to get us packed?”

Arthur’s jaw moved soundlessly as his eyes ran over the various packs strapped to Alfred’s saddle. He’d just assumed that was standard ranch-roaming equipment. “Food?”

“Yeah.”

“Blankets?”

“Yup.”

“Tent?”

Alfred hesitated. “I didn’t figure we needed a tent,” he said. “It’s been clear all day and tonight’s not supposed to be all that different. I figured it’d be more fun for it to be just us under the stars.” He gave a crooked grin. “That alright? Or you wanna ride back to get the tent?”

Arthur could practically hear his joints groaning at the mere thought. “I suppose not,” he mumbled anxiously.

Alfred offered a soft smile and reached out to pat Arthur’s knee. “You don’t have to worry,” he assured him. “I’ve done this a thousand times before. And besides, it’s just one night. Don’t you trust me to take care of you for one night?”

Arthur looked up in surprise at the question, his lips popping when he opened his mouth. He didn’t have a chance to answer before Alfred had turned his horse back around. “C’mon, we’re almost there,” he called over his shoulder, jogging down the trail. “It’s just over that hill.”

Arthur sighed heavily and urged his mare forward after Alfred’s. He hoped it’d be worth the ride, at least.

And bloody hell, was it ever. ‘That hill’ turned out to be much larger than the average Texas hill. It was a gradual incline, not to strenuous, but at the top it dropped off in a steep slope. The view was… beyond incredible. Arthur’s jaw was slack as his eyes scanned over the heard of cattle that looked like small black and brown sheep below, grazing on the lush, spring grass that was nursed by a river coursing through the property.

“Pa wanted to build the ranch here.” Arthur blinked before realizing Alfred was talking to him. He closed his mouth and looked over at the other. Alfred wasn’t looking at him though. He was staring down at the view, the sun glinting off his glasses and hiding his eyes from view. “He wanted to build it here because he wanted to wake up and see this every morning. Mom talking him out of it, though. She said if this is what he saw every day, it’d only be a matter of time before he took it for granted. So we made this our campsite instead. Every time we visited, we would come out here at least one night just to remind ourselves that things like this still existed.”

Arthur watched Alfred silently, waiting for him to continue. But he didn’t. Instead he just looked at Arthur with a warm smile. “What do you think?” he asked finally.

Arthur shook his head, speechless. Alfred chuckled. “That’s what I said when Pa first brought me out here,” he said. “That’s what everyone says.”

They made camp. There was a makeshift fire pit that remained there from frequent use. Alfred lit a small fire and Arthur tied the horses to a small post, giving them enough lead to graze while he unpacked their saddles. He laid out their blankets and sat down in front of the pit with the food beside him. He was silent as he watched Alfred build the fire with an attractive sort of efficiency. Finally, the spark took. Alfred made a sound of victory and sat back with a sigh, taking the food out of its packing along with the skewers. Arthur was only slightly disappointed to find out they would be having hot dogs for dinner.

They chatted casually as they cooked and ate, talking more about the ranch and Alfred’s family and the horses and Arthur’s family and their jobs and life and everything. It was comfortable and pleasant and in that moment Arthur didn’t give a damn about his aching body or about how it would hurt so much more in the morning or about how he was spending his holiday getting a horrid sunburn instead of basking in the glow of the television. He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

After dinner, they cleaned up their things but left the fire going, the only light in the dark expanse of their little campsite. Arthur wrapped his arms around his knees and leaned his head against Alfred’s shoulder. He felt a strong arm wrap around him and a stubbly cheek press against his hair and he all but melted into Alfred’s side. Alfred was silent, which was a miracle in and of itself, and Arthur found himself becoming part of the landscape as he listened to the unique sounds of the land. “You want to know what I think,” he whispered, as if he were afraid he would scare the moment away if he spoke too loudly. “I think your mother was mad when she said that.”

Alfred was quiet for a long moment and for a moment Arthur thought maybe he hadn’t spoken loud enough, or even at all. But then Alfred asked, “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Arthur said, his voice taking on his ‘teacher’ tone Alfred often pointed out, “I don’t believe anyone could ever truly take a view like this for granted. I don’t believe anyone could take something as beautiful as this for granted. It’s easy to take some every day things for granted, like food and air conditioning and things like that, but this could never be every day. Even if you woke up to it every day, it would never really be every day.”

There was another long moment of quiet, but this time Arthur could feel Alfred thinking. “So you think that even if you woke up to the most beautiful thing in the world every day… you’d still think it was the most beautiful thing in the world? You wouldn’t get tired of it?”

Arthur sat up straighter, forcing Alfred’s head off of his so he could look Alfred directly in the eye. “No,” he said softly, a small smile twitching at his lips. “No, I don’t believe I would ever get tired of that.”