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undreaming-fanfiction · 1 year

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Eddie's palms were sweating like crazy. There used to be moments when he was gratetul for this less obvious sign of nervousness, but at times like this it was bloody inconvenient. The chalk dust clung to his fingertips as he worked on his summoning circle under the archmage's watchful eye, an eye that was waiting for a single mistake that would warrant another disqualification. A third one in the last three years.

It was all bullshit as his best friends Nancy and Chrissy had told him. They both were younger and had the same skill. Sure, Nancy's intellect was through the roof and Chrissy studied with a rigid motivation of someone who wanted to leave their stifling family behind, but Eddie wasn't bad at all. Hell, he grasped the intricacies of magic almost naturally and in another world, he would have been praised, supported by all his peers and professors.

Yeah, right. That would be a world where he wasn't a filthy commoner.

Sure, magic didn't choose blood or status or a full set of silver cutlery in one's mouth, but oh did the upper class love to pretend. "We have magic in our bloodline," they lied through their teeth. And so when a kid of a petty thief showed magic potential surpassing the one of their coddled kids, they were aghast. They scoffed at his long unruly hair, at his cheap dark clothes, at the extra shifts his uncle had to take to keep him in the academy. They tried to get rid of him so many times, unfair test questions, discriminatory behavior, bullying...Eddie saw it all and guess what, he didn't care. As his wise uncle told him "they see you as a cockroach, boy. So become one. Show them how persistent you can be, make them wish they let you graduate."

Eddie adored his uncle, if that wasn't clear. That man was hard working and smart. If the world was worth anything, he would have been an alchemist, with his precise mind and nimble hands. But since world was shit and unfair, he was just a helper for one, although a great and kind one, Scott Clarke. Eddie was happy for his uncle, for the companionship he found in Scott, but there was inherent bitterness in him that wouldn't leave.

See, the issue with Eddie was - he had no clear goal, no illuminated path in his future. He wanted to explore magic, see what it had to offer. Where others had a clear destination, like Nancy with her passion for magical channels of communication or Chrissy and her focus on healing magic and diagnostics, Eddie was...untethered. He wanted to do anything and everything and he worried that this would be his downfall this time too. Because that's exactly what the whole summoning ritual hinged on.

Eddie wiped his hands on his pants, earning a disapproving scoff from the archmage. "Magic demands grace and dignity," that's what the asshole always said before elegantly wiping his mouth with a napkin or drying his sweaty brow with a white handkerchief. Eddie wanted to kick him in the shin and see how elegant he looked toppling over.

Just a few more chalk lines, no use in delaying the inevitable. This was the final exam of the senior year, but also a crucial skill that Eddie simply had to master. Because each mage needed a companion from the other side, that was the law. It didn't matter if you summoned a fae, a zephyr, a demon or even a wailing ghost of your grandma who decided to stay in the world beyond instead of moving on, you needed a companion to help with channeling of magic, amplifying it. Some mages kept the same companions for decades, other went through a series of brief companionships to find what they needed.

If Eddie only knew what he needed. That's what he was supposed to do - enter the circle, open a gate to the other world and project his ambitions, his desires. Which were, as usual, all over the place.

"I'm ready," he told the archmage as he stood up and dusted off his hands, creating more white smears on his pants.

The older man just rolled his eyes. He seemed to be in his fifties, with thick hair and just one or two strands of grey. But who knew, magic didn't really make aging normal. "I will believe it when I see it, Mr. Munson. You have yet to surprise me."

Eddie bit back a scorching remark and cracked his fingers, getting ready. He forced on a wide smile and waved at his friends who had, as expected, aced the exam. Nancy was chatting with her companion, a storm elemental (her name was Robin, as he would learn later, and she could speak so fast only Nancy was able to understand). Chrissy stood next to a tall dryad, Barbara, and gave Eddie a thumbs up, beaming at him. "You got this!" she mouthed at him and, with a brief whisper, made Barbara join in a very awkward cheer.

"Okay, here I go," muttered Eddie and entered the circle. His fingertips sparkled as he touched the prepared runes, activating them. He had one brief moment to take it all in, the scowl on the archmage's face, Nancy's quiet and confident smile and Chrissy's radiance, before the runes rose in a circle around him and obscured everything.

He blinked at the swirling colors around him, whispered voices. "Hello?" he called out, hearing the echo of his own voice. "My name is Eddie...um. I mean, Edward Munson and I am searching for a companion."

The voices sounded closer, but not close enough. He hadn't offered anything yet, so he wasn't too discouraged. "Um. I am looking for someone who would like to explore the world of magic with me. The possibilities it has and who is maybe looking to find themselves too..."

His voice trailed off. He sounded silly even to himself, not to mention to the creatures, spirits and demons in the realm. But just as he was about to quickly make up a goal, just to attract someone, he heard whispering in his ear. It sounded both melodic and dissonant, single and split. "You're intriguing. Intriguing enough to consider your offer. Say, Eddie. You seem open to everything, but...is there something that you really, really want? A desire you have? Something a companion could help you accomplish?"

Had Eddie been someone with a milder temperament, he would have explained how he hoped his success would open the door for more people like him, to change how elitist magic was. But he wasn't that, he was Eddie and he didn't feel like starting his first companionship with a lie.

"I want to succeed so much that the archmage will lose all of that fucking powdered hair," he grinned into the swirling void. "I want him to look at me, the first trash commoner mage, and know that despite being way more powerful and influential and whatever else, he couldn't get that scrawny kid to quit, no matter how many times he unfairly failed me. I want to make him feel like he's sucking on a lemon whenever he sees me. I want to become a living proof that he was wrong."

There was laughter in his ears and this time he realized - it wasn't one voice but two. One seductive and feminine, the other amused and slightly bitchy, belonging to a man.

"Well, Eddie," whispered the woman and Eddie shivered from her warm breath.

The man leaned in too, into his other ear. "We can help you with that."

And just like that, the magical void dissolved and two warm hands found their way into his.

Eddie emerged into the great hall to a series of gasps, cheers and curses. Chrissy was jumping up and down on her toes, clapping. Nancy seemed to be stuck between shock and serious amusement. And the archmage...well. That was something else.

But Eddie had manners so instead of reacting to any of them, he turned towads his companions. Two beings at once wasn't exactly common and Eddie had to understand who exactly he invited into his life.

He didn't have to recall much of his lectures on the other world to realize that his companions were demons. And not just any type, no. He gulped as he offered his hand again. "Thank you for answering my call. As I said before, I'm Eddie. Human, obviously."

The female demon was almost as tall as him, but unlike him she was gorgeous. Her thick brown hair fell to her strong shoulders in gentle waves and her amber eyes sparkled with mischief. She had moles and beauty marks all over her beautiful face. "Pleasure to join you, Eddie. Stevie, a succubus." She winked at him and shook his hand. "Obviously," she whispered.

She nudged him to the male demon, eerily similar to her, but where she was seductive he was snarky. Which...was doing equal things to Eddie's insides. Not only. "Steve," he said and squeezed his hand with a deliciously calloused hand. "Not a succubus, obviously, but an incubus. Pleasure indeed."

Eddie felt a bit manic. The wide smile on his face was starting to hurt but he couldn't bring himself to care and when Stevie used her tail to examine the chains on his belt, he wondered if the butterflies in his stomach weren't actually a stomach infection. "Uh...sorry if that's a stupid question, but are you...are you twins?"

He expected a scoff or a simple yes, but the look that Stevie and Steve exchanged wasn't clear at all. He wondered if he might have offended them, but Steve ended up throwing his arm around Eddie's shoulders and pulled him close. Yep, definitely a stomach bug because the butterflies were off the charts. "That's a bit complicated. We'll explain in a bit, but now..." The bitchy smirk on Steve's face was everything and as he whispered into Eddie's ear, Eddie couldn't help but snort. This was pure gold.

Standing between his companions and wrapping each arm around their waists, Eddie smiled at the archmage, pale and looking like he was ready to vomit all over his summoning circle.

"So, archmage Harrington," drawled Eddie and Stevie snickered next to him, "have I finally managed to surprise you?"

As Steve and Stevie raised their hands and, in a single voice, said sweetly "hi dad!", Eddie felt like his goal of giving the old pompous fart a heart attack was just within reach.

#steddie #steddie au #steve harrington #stevie harrington #eddie munson #magical au #steddie drabble #nancy wheeler #barb holland #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #yeaaah I don't have anything in my defense

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carnivorousyandeere · 4 months

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Darling proficient in martial arts… their yandere could be a competitor, team member, coach, fan, nurse/physical therapist… imagine it’d be quite difficult to subdue someone who spends hours every day training in self-defense and maybe practicing with weapons~! Or maybe their yandere would just enjoy getting beat to a pulp?

By some types of martial arts:

In martial arts like karate, practitioners are encouraged to maintain an intense degree of self-control. Actually striking an opponent with force to injure is grounds for automatic disqualification in a sparring match, and even outside matches, you’re encouraged to be patient and avoid conflict as much as possible. A particularly spiteful yandere could probably ruin a country- or world-class athlete’s reputation if their Darling beat them up, and they knew how to spin the optics in their favor…

Martial artists like boxers and MMA fighters get injured a lot. A competitor or team member could go damn-near all out on anyone that threatens you in the ring (or their chance to fight you themself…), with an audience cheering them on as they do it. I mean, sure, the refs would hate them but it’s not like they care 🤷. Also an incredibly good setup for a nurse/medic yan. Just don’t think too hard about what they do with all the bloody gauze afterwards.

It’s also kind of funny to imagine wrestling, with the yan being a huge fuckin heel and a face Darling who genuinely dislikes them (but of course, everybody thinks their distaste is just part of the show).

By the dynamic:

Rivals are a fucking classic, and for good reason. “You’re the only one worthy of facing me.” Obsession masked as hatred, leaning in close to trash talk but failing to hide their glance at your lips… Maybe they stalk you under the guise of trying to catch you doping and cheating ‘cause they can’t accept that you’re really just that good. Losing to you while their heartbeat, quick with anger and shame, begins to beat quickly for different reasons as you stand over them and gloat, or maybe you choose to offer your hand to help them up… Besting you in competition, feeling self-satisfied and smug— or maybe they feel empty, unsatisfied— “go practice some more and try me again.” Bonus points for silliness if this whole dramatic rivalry is between a Yan and a Darling who both objectively suck at the sport

Team members/fellow students for the casual intimacy of training together, of booking hotel rooms to share for out-of-state competitions. Sharing water bottles when one of you forgets (and if you’re not forgetful, they certainly will be 🤭). Maybe they’re better at the sport than you, and so they have the responsibility to help train and guide you, or maybe it’s the opposite, and you have a cute newbie clinging to your every word and instruction. They’d certainly stalk you too, studying your routine like a rival might, though they’re certain down to their bones you can’t be cheating! You must have some special routine that makes you so strong— like extra workouts, or certain foods you eat! Extra points for angst and cognitive dissonance if Darling actually is a fuckin cheat lol

Coach/Instructor for that sweet, sweet power imbalance. Maybe they’re extra strict with you because they can see your potential. Maybe they’re extra lax ‘cause of their gigantic soft spot for you, and the other students resent the special treatment you get. Coach overseeing your training personally, instructing you, watching you run laps and do push-ups. They like watching you get all sweaty and out of breath from training. And the little strained noises you make when stretching are just too cute! It’s a little too easy for them to touch you under the guises of correcting your form, or helping you stretch. They’d barely have to stalk you, especially if you were a world-class athlete— they’d be in charge of your schedule anyway. Workouts, meals, competitions, trips, all under their control~!

#I don’t need more yans i dON’T NEED MORE YANS #but also this would be such a good setup with modern Kyra… Kyra boxing…. 🤤#my thoughts #yandere #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere cw

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boinin · 5 months

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One last point—Niko and Zantetsu rock up to Nagi's dorm deliberately, but the lengths they go to find him... Tracking the wet floor marks? Genius.

Niko does so with purpose, and I'd like to highlight the way this was implied early on in the main manga. Even the way Hiiragi goes, huh—this is the guy you two wanted to see? indicates the precision in how Niko plans their 3V3 match-up.

Throwback to the volume 9 omake:

We know Niko's a strategist; Zantetsu is a reliable forward and defender, when directed by someone with good playmaking sense (see how Reo uses him in Team V's first selection matches).

The "someone [Niko] can actually talk to" turns out to be Hiiragi, who seems to have a reasonable level of intelligence and calm. His playstyle is a mystery, so I'm curious to see how he fits into among the others. He may be an excellent passer, like Hiori, or maybe something we haven't seen before.

Anyway, I love that Niko looked at his team, decided let's ball, then tried poaching the best player from his stratum... on a team that also arguably has that stratum's second best player. Before even commencing a match, Niko gets the rules of the second selection, understanding that success there is driven by individual talent more than teamwork overall (while still looking to cover his own shortcomings). In addition, he recognises Nagi's prodigy, and believes he can nurture it in the absence of Reo.

Such an underrated character. He's a mirror of Isagi in many ways, or like a shadow. They have similar talents, but their paths to the top are very different.

Still, this 3V3 didn't work out for Niko. The second stage results don't give us a whole lot of insight into how the other teams were formed... but Hiiragi/Niko weren't a duo that could ultimately triumph.

We know Hiiragi and Niko lose Zantetsu to Nagi's team. Then, they must have won once (to pick up a third player), then lost twice (allowing Hiiragi and Niko to be stolen, respectively). Alternatively, they go on to win twice, then lose (when Hiiragi is stolen)... then lose again (Niko is stolen). Bear in mind, this is in addition to the three days it took Rin's team to steal Isagi and emerge as a 5V5 team.

The second selection timeline will forever bug me, because the final numbers were capped, and the qualifiers were up against many other teams. With 24 hours between each match, surely playing 4+ matches like Hiiragi and Niko would have jeopardised their odds of qualifying overall? Yet, neither Hiiragi nor Niko's teams were last to qualify.

I guess... the teams made up of mob characters were so afraid of disqualification, they didn't seek matches at all? It's something chapter 58 alludes to. Kind of hilarious in retrospect: if they had just gone on and beaten one another, they'd have easily won out on time over the last three or four qualifying teams. Fortune favours the brave in Blue Lock.

#we'll never know... unless we get Episode Niko... followed by Episode Hiiragi... followed by—#i could read a whole bunch ot spinoffs for this manga i swear #blue lock #blue lock manga #episode nagi #episode nagi spoilers #blue lock spoilers #blue lock manga spoilers #bllk #bllk manga #epinagi chp 19 #niko ikki #nagi seishiro #hiiragi reiji #tsurugi zantetsu

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thistledropkick · 10 months

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Last year, Kasai Jun was interviewed as part of the interview project DEATH, which interviews various people about death in order to find a better understanding of how to live and appreciate life.

I thought it was a fascinating interview, so I decided to translate it.

Please go visit the original interview - the photography accompanying it is absolutely gorgeous.

Also, please don't repost this whole translation elsewhere. If you want to quote an excerpt of my translation for something, please make sure to also credit the original team behind this interview and link back to the original interview.

Deathmatch Fighter Kasai Jun - 4/27/2022

“It’s not a deathmatch until you return home alive” The reason this 47 year old Charisma Wrestler continues to shed blood in the ring

Within pro wrestling, there is a genre called “deathmatch.”

An extreme set of rules that allows deadly weapons and has no disqualifications. Brawls with fluorescent light tubes, and dives onto barbed wire boards. Without hesitation, wrestlers stab their opponents in the head with fistfuls of bamboo skewers. When wound-covered bodies violently collide, shards of glass and sprays of blood shower the ringside seats.

Upon first seeing it, surely everyone thinks “Why are these people hurting each other like this?” “What the hell am I looking at?”

This is the world of the man known as “Charisma,” professional Wrestler Kasai Jun of the independent promotion Pro Wrestling Freedoms.

In November of 2009, he had a “razorblade board plus alpha deathmatch” against Ito Ryuji in Tokyo’s Korakuen Hall. Kasai, 35 years old at the time, dove from the second floor balcony, a fall of 6 meters, onto a table, aiming for his opponent Ito.

Afterwards they continued to fight with various weapons, in a match that concluded 15 seconds before the 30 minute time limit. That year, this match was awarded the Best Bout award. And Kasai, the winner of that match, became a living legend overnight.

12 years have passed since then. Kasai is now 47 years old, and he continues to rule over the world of deathmatch wrestling. Under the weight of many literal life-or-death battles, Kasai’s body no longer moves the way it did when he was young. Even so, why does he continue to set foot in such a dangerous place?

We asked “Charisma of Deathmatch” - a man who makes the crowd go mad in the space between life and death - about his views on death and on life.

Desiring to truly feel alive

- Normally, people try to avoid pain and suffering. Kasai, why do you continue to shed blood in the ring?

Hahaha. From an outside perspective, you must really wonder “Why do you keep doing something so painful” huh? That’s a normal way to feel. But from the wrestler’s perspective, it’s completely different.

In your normal daily life, do you ever feel like “Ahh, it’s so glorious to be alive”? You’d almost never unconsciously blurt out something like that.

But in a life or death battle in a deathmatch ring, after you step down from that ring, that’s exactly what you feel. “Ahh, I’m alive. I’m so grateful to be alive.” Because of that, I can’t quit.

Mountain climbers and stuntmen probably feel like this too, don’t they. Stepping into a situation where their life could end, and returning home safely. I wonder if they’re searching for that feeling of being “truly alive.”

This feeling is passed on to the audience too. Fans often tell me “Watching Kasai Jun’s deathmatch gives me the strength to continue forward.”

They say things like, “I’m being bullied at school so I wasn’t going to go any more, but now I feel like I can keep going.” Or, “It’s exhausting to keep going to work, but after seeing Kasai persevere while shedding blood in the ring, I can persevere and keep going to work.”

Recently I can’t do this much because of covid, but in the past when I’d sell merch, fans would often say things like this to me.

Because of this, it seems to me that deathmatch wrestling is simultaneously a way for wrestlers to feel truly alive, and a way for those who watch it to feel more positively about living.

- Because of the sensational way “death” is shown in the ring?

Probably, yeah. Because it looks like we’re doing something really painful.

But don’t get me wrong. We aren’t in a particular hurry to die. And we aren’t wasting our lives either. What I always say is, “It’s not a deathmatch until you return alive.”

[Note from me - this phrase (生きて帰るまでがデスマッチ) is a play on a well-known Japanese phrase 家に帰るまでが遠足 “The field trip isn’t over until we return home.” This started as something a teacher would say to students in their care, and Kasai has altered it into his motto towards both himself and other deathmatch wrestlers.]

- It’s not a deathmatch until you return alive.

If you get in a ring where you might die or get seriously injured, and you do die, or you do get seriously injured, you’re no different than a rank amateur, right? But a guy who dives into a deadly dangerous situation and returns from that ring unharmed, he’s the absolute greatest and the absolute coolest.

Like a stuntman, right? If he returns home alive, people say “amazing,” but if he dies, he’s no longer a pro.

At 35 years old, his view on life did a complete 180 during a match

But, when I was young, I thought about it completely differently. I never thought “I’m grateful to be alive.” In the ring, I did dangerous stuff and defeated my opponents. I just thought of it as my job.

The more dangerous stuff I did, the more people said “Kasai is amazing!” That felt really great. Every time I stepped into the right I thought, if something goes wrong and I die I guess that’s how it goes. I thought “Deathmatches should be a memento mori.”

- What caused such a big change in your values?

That match against Ito Ryuji in Korakuen, in 2009. It changed my mental state by 180 degrees.

The truth is, I went into that match thinking “This is my last match before I retire.” Because it was my last match, I would do everything I wanted to do. Win or lose, I went into the ring thinking “I’ll retire.”

But during the match, my feelings completely changed. I thought “If I quit like this, I’ll be half-dead.” There’s nothing else I want to do, and I’ve never felt joy like this anywhere else. It was just too much fun.

So, after the match ended with 15 seconds remaining, I announced my decision to continue wrestling. “I was thinking of retiring but, I’m gonna keep going.” That’s what changed.

- Since your values have changed so significantly from when you thought it’d be good to die in the ring, what’s your “ideal death” now?

Spending the day with my family as I always do, watching tv with an after-dinner drink as I always do, getting comfy in my futon as I always do, and passing away. That’s the best death, isn’t it.

I’ve said it before but, people who say “It’s my ambition to die in the ring” are just trying to look cool. For a pro, it all comes down to returning home alive. And so, I believe that when the life of Kasai Jun the human being comes to an end, Kasai Jun the wrestler will die as well. I want to be a pro wrestler until I die. That’s how I feel now.

When I was young, I thought the best time for a wrestler to retire was when he could still move, when people would say “It’s a shame, because there’s still more he can do.” But if that’s true, I’ve already missed my best time to retire.

Since I’ve come this far, maybe it’s better to keep doing this until my death. Since around the time I turned 40, I started thinking this way.

Gaining years = leveling up. I’ll reach my peak just before death.

- Since you’ve been doing this for so long, it’s inevitable that your body has become weaker. Kasai, how have you dealt with aging?

The word “elderly” is a concept created by human beings, isn’t it? Since that’s the case, I believe it’s something we can absolutely overcome. I don’t think increasing in age is the same as becoming elderly.

Look, it’s true that my physical stamina has decreased and my muscles have gotten weaker than they were when I was younger. But my will and my spirit have continued to grow. Instead of just breaking even, I think I’ve leveled up. 47 years old is level 47. I now see growing older as a positive, like leveling up every year.

Because of that, my peak has yet to come. I’ll reach my peak just before I die. I’ll be at my strongest just before my death. That’s the ideal I envision for myself.

There was a time when I felt insecure about my age. When I hit my mid 30s, I hated that my body was becoming weaker.

But then, while drinking at home and watching a documentary on TV about (rock musician) Yazawa Eikichi, I realized something. “If you think about it, uncool young people are uncool, and cool guys are cool even if they’re old.” Since then, my way of thinking changed. I started calling getting older “leveling up” at around that time.

[Note from me: Suzuki Minoru also refers to getting one year older as “leveling up” in the exact same way. They are friends, so I assume Suzuki got it from Kasai.]

- I'm surprised that a pro athlete who uses his body as a weapon would think of aging in that way.

Pro wrestling and deathmatch are unique among sports. Unlike say, track and field, or swimming, it isn’t a competition where every second counts. I can’t move the way I could when I was young any more, but through my facial expressions, pauses during matches, and so on, I have many ways to express myself.

A guy can be handsome, macho, with great muscles, and completely suck as a wrestler. In contrast, a guy like me who’s ugly, short, and middle-aged, can get support from the fans. It’s a completely different genre, and that’s what makes pro wrestling so interesting.

- What about your emotional struggles? In your documentary film you said you were having some difficulty maintaining your motivation, which you described as “Deathmatch Erectile Dysfunction”

Yeah, well, that can definitely be a problem. When you’re young, you’ve just got piles of hopes and dreams and things you want to do. But as the years go on, and as you accomplish those things, you can kind of get lost.

What’s helped me increase my motivation has been the existence of people who make me think “I absolutely don’t wanna lose to this guy” or “I don’t want this guy to take all the best stuff for himself” In my case, for example, that’s been (fellow PW Freedoms deathmatch wrestler) Takeda Masashi. Or, although he’s from another organization, New Japan Pro Wrestling’s El Desperado.

That’s why for the past 3 or 4 years, I’ve been asking people to “stimulate me.” I want intimidating people to keep approaching me. Well, on the other hand, if they take the most delicious part for themselves, that’s a problem.

A fear of death led to a “selfish life”

- Incidentally, perhaps it’s too late at this point, but do you worry about being injured or dying?

I said it already but, “It’s not a deathmatch until you return alive.” Since I’m a pro, I have the skills required to do this without death or injury.

But, it’d be a lie to say “I’m not afraid.” Even now, for several days before a match I get so stressed that I can’t sleep. Despite how I look, I get plenty scared. Much of my life has been driven by a strong fear of death.

- How do you mean?

It sounds silly, but when I was in grade school I believed in “The Prophecies of Nostradamus.” Have you ever heard of it? “In the year 1999, all of humanity will be destroyed.” Every night I shook with fear in my futon, thinking that my life would end at the age of 24.

Propelled by that fear, I concluded, “If the earth is gonna get destroyed anyway, I should quit studying. Instead I should use the rest of my remaining lifetime to do stuff that I like.” I completely quit studying, and instead spent all my time watching pro wrestling, which I loved.

Conversely, my fear of death also led me to become a pro wrestler. After graduating high school, I got a job in Tokyo as a security guard, but I gave into temptation and visited brothels daily. One day I happened to be reading a magazine with an HIV checklist inside, and almost every item applied to me.

At that time, I still thought “AIDS = death” so I thought “Oh, this is AIDS.” “Oh, this is how I’ll die.”

Luckily, when I got tested the result was negative, but after preparing myself for death, I thought “I really should do what I want” and knocked on the door of Big Japan Pro Wrestling. My life has always been influenced in this way.

- I get the impression that many wrestlers die at an early age. Since then, your fear must have increased.

Nah, that’s not really true. I’m surprisingly practical about the deaths of others. I just accept it, like “That’s the kind of life you lived.” I suspect my fear of death isn’t a fear of death itself, but a fear of becoming nothing.

- A fear of becoming nothing.

I’m no (actor and spiritualist) Tanba Tetsuro, but if after you die, you go to the spirit world, and cross the Sanzu river, that’s not all that scary is it? I wouldn’t go so far as to say “it’s fine if I die” but there’s some kind of hope or meaning. But if “After death, you become complete nothingness” “After death you feel no joy or sadness” I think that’s really scary.

But these days, I don’t experience that fear of death as much as I used to. If after this interview a dump truck hits me and I die, I wouldn’t have any regrets. I could say I did what I wanted to do.

Pro wrestling is a business where you depend on your popularity with an audience, but I’ve never tried to flatter the audience to get sales or support, or thought about how to increase my popularity. Ultimately, Kasai Jun puts himself first. I’m my own number one.

To die without regrets is to win at life

- But, if someone wanted to imitate your way of life, I think most people would be profoundly afraid of not getting by financially, or of being rejected by society. Why do you think you remain stoic in the face of such fears?

What’s there worth imitating about me? If you’re selfish like me and you can change it, you should want to!

But, this is probably related to that “fear of becoming nothing” I mentioned earlier. Ever since I was little, I’ve thought stuff like “This whole world isn’t real” and “Maybe all of this is just a dream.”

Nothing in this world is certain. Since that’s the case, all you have are your own body and your own feelings. In short, I don’t believe in anything but myself, so I put myself first.

- So in order to “feel truly alive” you throw yourself into the painful world of deathmatch wrestling, which leads us back to where we started.

That’s right. I guess you could say that pain is the only thing I believe.

But when I was young, I did understand the fear of not making enough money to survive. When I was around 30 and my son had just been born, I was seized by that fear.

Really, I was broke, and I couldn’t even pay into the National Pension Fund like I was supposed to, so I went to the ward office and said “I do intend to pay, so please wait a little.” I thought to myself, “Living is so expensive and so difficult.”

- A deathmatch fighter scary enough to quiet a crying child, with such an everyday problem.

Three years after my debut, when I was around 27, I was badly injured. I quit Big Japan, and after a year’s absence, I transferred to a different group called Zero-One.

Zero-One was founded by ex-New Japan Pro Wrestler Hashimoto Shinya, and the pay was good compared to Big Japan, and they held a lot of shows, so I could wrestle frequently. The environment there was very pleasant.

But, due to the policy of the organization, I couldn’t do the deathmatches that I love. During that time as a “salaryman wrestler,” I survived, but I think deathmatch fighter Kasai Jun, pro wrestler Kasai Jun, was completely dead.

“I really should do the pro wrestling I want to do,” I thought, and I quit Zero-One, and persisted with the pro wrestling that I love. Maybe that’s why I feel like I can now “die without regrets.”

Ultimately, if you live your own life as you wish, and think “I have no regrets” when you die, you win. Maybe people today have lost sight of the essence of what it means to live. It’s fine to work hard at your job, but if you’re spending every day miserably, is that kind of life really okay with you?

I’d rather live for 20 years and laugh every day than live for 100 years and never smile. If you’ve lived for 100 years and never laughed, that’s the same as being dead, isn’t it?

写真：本永創太 ~ Photographer: Motonaga Souta

執筆：鈴木陸夫 ~ Author: Suzuki Atsuo

編集：日向コイケ（Huuuu）~ Editor: Hinata Koike (Huuuu)

#kasai jun #jun kasai #pw freedoms #pro wrestling #deathmatch #my translation #This is definitely the longest thing I have ever attempted to translate!#I've got nobody checking over my work or anything like that so as always apologies for any typos or errors that I didn't catch

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judgementdaysunshine · 4 months

Note

From this prompt list: BRACE + LIFT + PILL + FROST with Rhea and Liv?

Ofc babe

Bump

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Fem reader x Liv Morgan

Description: After taking a bad bump your girls take care of you

"This match is very close, someone's gotta take drastic measures to win" you grab and perform a rock bottom on Shotzi feeling the adrenaline ooze out of you as she gets back up running and jumping on the ropes for standing moonsault. She pulls you down getting tangled in the ropes yelling as you try to get free before being drop kicked and landing on the floor feeling pain course through your body as you roll back in the ring not noticing the huge bruise on your side as the last few minutes of the match go on until it ends in a disqualification due to an interference from Asuka wobbling out of the ring making it halfway up the ramp before Liv and Rhea were by your side trying to help you up but you yell in pain leaning forward where they see the bruises and the scrape on the back on your neck before rhea lifted and carrying you to the med room where other than the bruises and scrape you had a cut on your face groaning as you brace yourself before being sat down in the locker room the three of you shared trying to relax but the pain was relenting none the less. Tears brim from the pain as rhea helps you change into a loose shirt and pants "Shh I know baby I'm sorry almost done" liv comes back handing you Ibuprofen taking it while rhea grabs small bags of ice holding your hand "Take a deep breath possum I know this isn't going to be pretty" you squeeze her hand before she quickly places one of the ice bags on your side yelping from the chill that runs through you jumping as the girls place and tape the ice on you leaning your head on rhea's shoulder while liv fixes your shirt before tucking loose strands of hair away from your face eating before leaving the arena back to your shared hotel room groaning as they take the ice off and put fresh ice on you propping you against pillows in bed giving you Tylenol before you finally got comfortable to sleep with the girls by you being sure to be careful with how they held you as they slept.

#rhea ripley #wwe x reader #wwe #liv morgan x reader #liv morgan #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x reader x liv morgan #liv morgan x reader x rhea ripley

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hookhausenschips · 6 months

Text

Burning Rubber

Chapter Three

F1 Masterlist

Burning Rubber Masterlist

Word Count: 3,384

Summary: Azha is starting to feel some things after the race in Austin

Warnings: pick me’s, lando has no rizz, disqualification, Austin Grand Prix

previous part next part

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Asha’s POV

Tonight is the gala for Formula Drift. I was invited as a potential signee for next season. I remember receiving the call from Ryan Sage, the co-founder and President after the crew and I had got back to our hotel after the video with Quadrant. “Hey Azha I had gotten your number from your Manager. I’m Ryan Sage and I’m the President of Formula Drift. I’ve been watching you for a couple of years now, I’m very impressed with your skills. We are having an event soon and I was wondering if you would like to come? Meet some of the drivers, get a feel of everything. If you like what you see we can schedule a meeting sometime soon since your season is over soon.”

That was three weeks ago, now here I am in my hotel room here in London. My personal team rushes around the room. My stylist helps me into my dress, my hair team fixes my goddess braids, and my makeup crew gets their things ready. My manager Kiara sits in the chair next to mine at the makeup station. “Do you think you’re going to sign?” She asked. I looked up from my phone, “I’m not sure. I quite like where I am but this would be a huge push for my career.” I answered. She nodded, “Do you think they’ll make you choose?” “Between what?” I ask as I’m zipped into my dress. “The underground and them.” She clarified. I shook my head while looking at my nails, “Even if they try I’m going to have my lawyer draw up my contract stating they won’t be allowed to without me quitting. I’ve been in the underground practically all my life. I would quit this lifestyle for it.” I spoke.

Arriving at the gala thankfully there’s no red carpet. I hate being yelled at by paparazzi to pose this or that. I’m not an exhibit. Walking in with Kiara the place is packed. “Now all you have to do is run your elbows with some people, turn up the charm, and then we can leave okay? I know how bad these events make your anxiety.” She whispered as we were handed flutes of champagne by the wait staff. I nodded and looked around the ballroom. It’s going to be a long night.

God, I was bored. Having so many of the same repetitive conversations with people. “Oh you’re new, what do you do?” Blah blah blah. “Kiara, we’ve been here almost two hours. I’m starving for an actual meal. Let’s dip out of here please.” I whisper to her. She looks around and notices the room is still packed. “Okay well since you’ve already spoken with Ryan and some of the sponsors I’d say we can sneak out. Come on.” She said then grabbing my hand to lead the way. Finally. These fancy events were never my thing. Yes, the dresses were always pretty but I’d rather crash than stand here and talk to people who have never raced a day in their lives. Making it out the door she gives the valet the ticket with our car number on it and we wait. “Where do you want to eat?” She questioned while typing away on her phone. “Somewhere that has burgers please,” I say as we step into our rented 2023 Chevrolet Corvette. “Alrighty then.” She said pulling off. Finally getting our fill of London burgers we head back to the hotel. My phone dings and I see it’s a message from Lando.

After changing and redoing my makeup I grab my phone and the car keys then set off to pick him up. I pull up and see him standing outside. I get out as he walks up to the car. I toss him the keys, “You’re driving.” I say and climb into the passenger seat. “I thought the offer was you were the one taking me racing?” He questioned starting the car. “I could tell you wanted to take her for a spin once I pulled up,” I stated. He smiled, “You’re not wrong.” And we pulled off. Just cruising around enjoying the sights at night with some music playing I turn to look at the man driving. He was wearing his hat backwards, a sweatshirt, and jeans. A nice watch on his left wrist plus a chain around his neck. “You know it’s not nice to stare.” He spoke. I chuckle, “Just seeing if Ria was right about you having no style.” I say. He turns to look at me with a raised brow. “Oh, so you two talk about me?” He questioned. “Not a lot. I asked who the diva and fashionista s’all. She said you’re starting to get fashion but not a lot.” I reply. He nodded and continued driving.

“You know, you’ve never said what you do,” I say after a while as we pull up to a red light. “I never saw that it was relevant.” He said. “Aw come on we’re friends right?” I questioned. “Yeah of course.” He replied. “You know what I do for a living. Both sides. I barely know what you do.” I say. “You don’t look through my Instagram?” He asked as we drove onto the highway. I shook my head, “No not really. I just post on mine when I’m supposed to. Other than that I’m not really on Instagram. Other places I am.” I answer. “You never looked me up online?” “No? Why would I need to, you’re not Joe from You so I think I’m safe.” I say. He laughed. “I drive a race car.” He spoke. I sat up in my seat, “Like mine?” I asked excitedly. “No not really, I drive a Formula car.” He replied. “Interesting. You haven’t been busy lately from what the group has said. Are you on break?” I speak. He nodded, “Just for the week then I’m off to Austin. What about you, how’s your break?” I smile, “The season is over. I’m a free woman until April. Well, sort of I guess.” I replied. “Would you like to come to Austin? To uh you know see me race?” He asked. “How long is it?” I counter. “Well, I’m there from October 18th through the 23rd. We have practice and qualifying the 20th and the race is that Sunday. It’s a Sprint weekend so you’ll really get the full experience.” He explained. I hadn’t realized we had parked. “I can’t guarantee it but I will see what I can do okay?” I say while looking at him. He nodded and shut off the car. “Have you ever seen the eye?” He asked. I shook my head, “Come on, it’s really beautiful at night.” He spoke before getting out and running to my side to open my door. I smile and thank him as we walk to see the infamous London Eye.

“So it’s basically just a Ferris wheel?” I asked standing next to Lando as we looked at the lights. “Pretty much.” He replied. “Why is it called the eye then?” I questioned. “You ask a lot of questions.” He said. I look at him, “I am naturally a very inquisitive person. There’s nothing wrong with that Lando Norris. Don’t you ever question things in the world? Or wonder why things happen?” I reply. He shakes his head then looks back at me, “Or just nosey.” He teased. I gasped, “You think that lowly of me?” I faux being hurt and place my hand on my chest. He smiled. “Just for that, I should push you into the water,” I said while gesturing to the huge body of water behind us. “Or better yet. Leave you here.” “And how would you do that without the keys?” He countered. “Easy. Take the keys then push you in the water duh.” I say slowly getting closer to him. “You wouldn’t dare.” He whispered. “I just might if you don’t take that back Norris,” I say. “I don’t think I will.” He smirked. “You know you’re lucky you’re cute or I’d beat you up and then leave you here.” I roll my eyes smiling. “You think I’m cute?” He teased. “Such a bimbo. Come on I want to get some pictures.” I say before walking to the Wheel.

We continued to walk around by the water, talking about anything and everything. “So then I couldn’t stop laughing and my shirt was just soaked in milk.” He laughed explaining one of Quadrant’s videos. “Oh my god, I am going to have to watch back at the hotel and send you my live reactions.” I laugh as well. Before continuing we heard a couple of voices. “Oh my gosh, you’re Lando Norris. Sorry to bother but can we get some pictures?” We looked to see a group of maybe three to four girls. He looked at me, “I’ll be fine go ahead.” I whispered. He nodded and turned back to the girls, “Uh yeah of course.” The girls smiled. “Could you take the group picture? Then we can take turns on our own.” One asked while holding her phone out. I nodded and took the picture. While the girls took their turns, one just kept looking at me funny. “Are you dating Lando?” She asked. I was taken aback. “No, he’s just a friend,” I say. “Good because he would never be with someone who looks like you.” She glared. I laughed. “Honey, I’m not sure how your brain works but putting other girls down isn’t going to make you love yourself more or ever achieve Lando’s attention. Take that pick-me attitude plus racist behavior and shove it up your ass. Mkay? I hope you enjoy the rest of your night. ” I smile and walk back over joining Lando. She continues glaring. “Ready to go?” He asked. I nodded. “Thank you for the pictures, Lando. Your girlfriend is really pretty. Have a nice night guys.” One of the girls said before they headed off. He looked at me slightly blushing. “Don’t worry I’m sure they’ll figure out we’re not together,” I say patting his chest. He looked confused, “How?” “I kind of went off after the taller one tried to verbally attack me.” He raised his eyebrows in disbelief, “Do tell.” I chuckle. “I can on the way dropping you off. It is getting pretty late.” I say as we walk to the car.

“Are you fucking serious?” Lando seethed in the passenger seat after telling him what had happened. “Lando it’s no big deal. She didn’t hurt my feelings, I doubt she ever could. The insecurity was there and I wasn’t going to fall for it.” I spoke. “Still, that is ridiculous. You’re my friend, someone I care about and she is supposedly a fan of mine acting like that? Unacceptable.” He argued. “She was put in her place. Although I’m sure once they post those pictures she’ll try to bad mouth me. I could tell her energy was off so if she wants to open that can of worms I have it on recording. There’s not much you can do now. ” I replied trying to ease his anger. “I can. People would do those things all the time when I was with my ex. Yes, we’re not dating but I’m going to stop this before it gets too far.” He said while typing on his phone. I sigh knowing there’s not much I can do to change his mind. “I hope they didn’t ruin tonight.” He spoke after a few minutes of silence minus him still typing away at his phone. “Lando they could never. I actually had a lot of fun tonight. Thank you.” I say looking at him for a split second. He smiled. “See there’s a smile. Thought that frown would be a permanent fixture on your face. I don’t think wrinkles would suit you at this age.” I teased as we pulled up to his hotel. “Wow, you’re so funny. Don’t quit your day job.” He replied. I laugh before parking the car and hopping out with him. He pulls me to him and hugs me. “I had a great time too. And I’m glad you did as well. Text me when you make it back to your hotel so I know you made it safely alright?” He said while squeezing me slightly tighter. I hugged him back. “Of course. I’ll also let you know about Texas as well. Goodnight Lando.” I pull away looking at him. “Goodnight Azha.” He spoke and I turned to get back into the car. “Keep that smile, Norris, it looks great on you.” I wink and close the door after seeing him grin while blushing yet again tonight. Then I pulled off back to my hotel.

I slowly and quietly opened the door to the room knowing Kiara was asleep in her bed. I checked my phone as I walked into the bathroom to take a quick shower, ‘3:57 am’. Jesus and our flight is at 6:30. Another night of barely any sleep. I unlock my phone and text Lando that I made it back safely then hopped in the shower.

Skip a week to Race day in Austin

The last few days have been eventful, to say the least. I can understand why people love this type of racing. Will it ever compete with street racing in my heart? Probably not. “What’re you thinking about over there?” Lando asked as we relaxed in his Driver’s room before the race. “Everything.” I sigh. “Care to elaborate?” He asked. “Nah. You can sit in anticipation for a while longer.” I smiled. He shook his head and chuckled, “Fiiine I didn’t want to know anyway. Keep your secrets.” He said. “I signed with Formula Drift on Monday,” I spoke while looking at him. “Are you serious?” He beamed. I nod. He jumped up and tackled me on the couch. “Oh my god, that’s amazing! Congratulations. We have to celebrate.” He almost yelled in my ear as he hugged me. The door then opened and in walked Ria, Max, and Aarav. “Well, don’t you two look cozy,” Max smirked while wiggling his eyebrows. Lando and I separated, “Azha just told me some fantastic news. That’s all.” He said while standing to move away from the couch again. “Uh huh and what is this news?” Max asked. The three looked at me, I smiled sheepishly. “I signed with Formula Drift on Monday. I start for the 2024 season as soon as it starts.” I said. They all screamed and hugged me. “Now guys it’s alright no need to make it a big deal. Someone else deserves the spotlight today.” I say. “What do you mean! This is a huge deal!” Ria shouted. “Lando is at 100 races, he deserves the spotlight more than I do right now,” I whispered. “We can celebrate together,” Lando said. I shook my head, “Today is YOU. Not me. That’s a milestone in your career. I’m just restarting mine.” I said. “You’re too humble for your own good,” Aarav said. I smiled, “And yet you all love me for it anyway.”

End of Race

Max, Ria, Aarav, and I cheered alongside the McLaren garage as Lando pulled into Parc Femme for third place. We all joined the team at the barrier as he jumped out of his car and raised his hands in the air, the cheers somehow got louder. He jogged over and jumped into his team's arms. They all were patting on his helmet and saying their congrats in various ways. He then got to us and I let the Quadrant crew hug him and celebrate, they’ve been here for his journey longer than I have anyway. He looked around and once he saw me he pulled me to him and hugged me. I couldn’t really hear him that well, “Thank you.” Was all I caught as he pulled away. I looked at him through his helmet and smiled, “Congrats!” I cheered. He then walked over to be weighed and take his headgear off. I was overwhelmed with so many emotions alongside the adrenaline; happiness, astonishment, proudness, admiration, amazement, and something I couldn’t quite place. You could see the joy on Lando’s face from the win. And the love he had for his sport. It was, he was beautiful, even if he had helmet hair. Beautiful? I shook my head, why am I thinking like this? Before I could analyze more, Ria grabbed my arm and told me we had to get front row for podium. I nodded and walked with the group towards the stage.

We watched from below as the three, Max, Lewis, and of course, Lando, received their trophies. “Ready for the best part?” Ria asked. “The race wasn’t it?” I questioned, and she giggled. “Just wait.” She replied pointing back at the stage. Suddenly suds were sprayed everywhere. I was shocked as I felt the spray from the stage. “Here he goes,” Max said, then Lando slammed his bottle on the ground and the thing erupted like a volcano. “He does that all the time?” I asked looking in awe. The three nodded. “Here come on he’ll meet us back at the garage,” Max said as we began our way to the garage. We arrived to hear cheers from the team as they took their picture. I stood with the three as we waited for them to finish. Soon they all departed to the garage or somewhere else on the track. Lando walked over with his teammate who I had yet to meet. “Sorry to see what happened out there, Oscar,” Max said hugging the other male. “It’s alright, it happens. There’s still a few more races left.” The man spoke. “The Shootout and Sprint were great though,” Ria added. He nodded before looking at me, his eyes widened. “You’re Azha Skye. Lando here won’t shut up about you.” Oscar spoke. I smiled sheepishly, “I take it you have seen my racing?” I ask. “Are you kidding? I think the whole grid has once they heard you were coming.” He smiled. I looked at Lando as he stood there awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, it’s not as exciting as what you guys do,” I say looking back at the Aussie. “Are you kidding? You pull some daring moves.” Oscar said. I smiled, “Here let’s all go to the A/C and I’ll tell you more then.” I spoke.

Finally settling back in Lando’s driver room after meeting and speaking with many of the drivers, telling them stories of my sport. Collapsing back in the same spot I was mere hours ago I look over at Lando. “You know you would think attention from a huge group of guys would feel good. Boost an ego or make you feel desirable.” I spoke. He looked at me, “I’m used to the attention but that… I don’t know how to explain that. Weird? I’m not sure. Or terrible because I didn’t want to take the spotlight off of you. Today is so special for you. In your 100th race, you place top five in the shootout and the sprint, and then you take third place overall in the race. You deserve all the praise, not me just standing here being support.” I spoke. He smiled, “Always looking out for other people. It’s okay Azha. You deserve some sort of celebration especially since you’re joining Formula D.” He spoke. I shook my head, “Today is for you, Lando. It would be different if I was racing but I’m not. I’m not here as Azha the drift racer. I’m here as your friend and someone to support you.” I sighed. Before he could say anything the door opened and one of his engineers poked their head in, “Hey Lando, so some things have happened between the FIA and two racers. Lewis and Charles have been disqualified. So you’re not P2. Your trophy is in the garage.” They said. Lando and I looked at each other in shock as the engineer left. Once the words sunk in I spoke again, “See. Today is about you. Even the universe agrees Mr. P2. Come on let’s go get that trophy of yours.”

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definitelynotshouting · 1 year

Text

Introducing: the Reduce Reuse Recycle (3R) Minecraft Challenge

The 3R Challenge is a fun minecraft challenge where the ultimate goal is to keep any dropped item from despawning. The rules are as follows:

You cannot let a single dropped item despawn. As long as the item is dropped, you must either preserve it or use it in some fashion. (Note: chicken eggs laid by wild chickens is an exception)

You cannot destroy dropped items. Throwing any item into lava, the void, or a cactus is an immediate disqualification. (Note: destroying items in the vein of punching stone with your fists does not count. You are also allowed to let tree leaves despawn when you chop down trees, as long as you pick up any item they drop)

Destruction via TNT is allowed as long as you pick up any blocks that may drop as a result. The same goes for creeper explosions.

Dying in lava or the void is an immediate disqualification. The Nether and End just got ten times more dangerous<3

Hard Mode:

Hard mode goes by the same rules as the above, but with the addition of having to eventually reuse every single item you pick up. You can choose how you reuse each item, such as recycling poppies from an iron farm into bonemeal, but you must reuse every single item you pick up and interact with in some way.

This includes:

Mob drops

Weapons and armor

Old tools

Work stations

Anything you have crafted

As long as it's used in some fashion, it keeps within the spirit of the challenge. Loopholes, of course, are both accepted and 100% encouraged.

If you decide to try this challenge, please tag it with either #minecraft 3r challenge or #mc 3r challenge, and make sure to tag me as well so I can see it!! Happy recycling!

#minecraft #mc #minecraft challenge #mc challenge #mcyt #minecraft 3r challenge #mc 3r challenge #shouting speaks #imagine playing this on skyblock oh my gods #dkfbwkdnsjdndjdm #anyway here guys im feeling a little slash sillay so have a random mc challenge i cooked up an hour ago #txt

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allthebrazilianpolitics · 2 days

Note

hi! could you possibly share the intercept new report about gay men and their misogyny? i know this isn't really about br politics, and im not even sure if it is in English, but i think it is really important to be shared

I hope it's not too late 😅

Gay men and misogyny: no more ignoring this problem

'Don't talk about vaginas around me': for a long time, we ignored the disqualifications of women and the feminine made by gay men. No more.

"If I liked women, I would have become a gynecologist."

"The law of gravity is a crime against women."

“Funny” gay guys, usually white and showing a certain hatred towards females, are a very common social type in contemporary pop culture. The character Felix “Bicha Má” ["Evil Fag"], played by Mateus Solano, from the Brazilian soap opera “Amor à Vida” [Love For Life], is an easy example in Brazilian lands – the sentences that open this text are his. But this sharp-tongued young man who directs much of his bitterness towards women, including friends and relatives, has never only lived on screens: he is a common presence in our daily lives.

"Oh, don't mention a vagina around me, I get all messed up."

"My goodness, this singer was beautiful, but she got old and ugly."

"Get out of here, I don't even like cracks."

I can't say how many times I've heard phrases like that from fellow gay men. For a long time, these ways of disqualifying women – despite the certain discomfort felt by every person who is repeatedly the target of prejudice – were endorsed and reflected by women ourselves. Offenses dressed as “I was just joking” have largely naturalized these forms of disqualification, but the good news is that, in an environment in which feminism has gained ground, what seemed to be just a joke is now named by the right word: misogyny.

This is a delicate subject, since we are talking about people – mostly cisgender gay men – who have been and still are victims of a series of violence, whether at home, at work, on the streets. Perhaps it was precisely this that made us, cisgender or transgender women, leave the discomfort of being made fun of in the background. After all, confronting homophobia in a sexist country like Brazil is no simple task. But if this machismo affects homosexual men, what can we say about its presence in women's daily lives? And what can we also say about the homophobia directed at cis/trans homosexual and bisexual women, especially invisible and also targets of “jokes” by gay men?

“I had a very close gay friend, like a brother. We went out to parties together and often slept in the same bed, at my house or his. Several times, as if he were joking, he said that he was terrified of vaginas, that he was born through a cesarean section so he wouldn't have to go through one. He'd gesture the sign of the Cross and said ‘God forbid’, smiling,” says Adriana Conceição, 47 years old, a telemarketing operator from Recife who, like several other women, took a while to classify the guy's actions with the right word.

Game developer Renata Gomes, also 47 years old, found herself at the center of a virtual outrage after questioning a post by a gay Brazilian film critic living in the United States. In the post, he talked about missing Brazil, since people worked a lot more in the USA. Faced with the possibility of his speech being reductive and stereotypical, he began to treat Renata as “ugly”, “militant”, “frustrated”. Furthermore, several of the critic's friends entered the comments to reiterate the delegitimization of Renata's speech.

Younger people also identify the problem: aware of the issue, Curitiba university student Nicoly Grevetti, aged 24, listened to several people who circulate in LGBTQIA+ spaces about the subject and wrote a text about it. In it, she also identifies how pop and queer cultures, supposedly safer and “modern”, also present misogynistic elements.

One example is the use of the term “fishy”, constantly evoked to define drag queens who closely resemble cisgender women (that is, who have a high degree of “passability”). The expression refers to the smell that these women's vaginas supposedly have. “[Cisgender] women grow up believing that their private parts are disgusting and spend their entire lives using products to reduce their natural odors, which can lead to various diseases. Having female genitalia as something disgusting is so common for this group, that you can find countless reports of women talking about it on the internet,” she wrote. The topic was the subject of discussion in the famous series RuPaul’s Drag Race, generating academic works like this one. Cisgender drag queen Victoria Scone, a former participant in the show, also spoke on the topic.

A few months ago, I experienced a significant episode of this machismo and misogyny that had been attenuated for a long time in relation to gay men. I was in a doctor's office very close to a shopping center in the south of Recife. After the end of the consultation, the dermatologist – homosexual, white, in his late thirties, and anti-Bolsonaro in the last elections – lightly tapped my hand and said: “Okay, now you can go for a walk in the mall.”

Especially on that day, I was rushing to finish presenting a lecture that I would give the following day, online, at the University of Coimbra. Obviously, if I wanted to window shop or spend the afternoon reading celebrity magazines, it wouldn't be a problem (in fact, I love it). The point here was the doctor's obvious intention to fit me into the cliché of the futile and consumerist woman, a sexist and anachronistic way of disqualifying the female gender. Icing on the cake: while I was leaving, the gay boy warned me not to forget to take “the boss” to my next appointment. He was referring to my romantic partner.

If it's feminine, it's smaller

The misogyny present in the practices of part of this population is so evident that it goes beyond the boundaries of gender and occurs between equals: it is common to see it operating even among gay men themselves. Research I carried out in partnership with Professor Ricardo Sabóia, from the Federal University of Pernambuco, analyzed the relationship between body and celebrity on the Grindr app. I was astonished by both the hatred towards what is socially seen as feminine and the extremely high level of normativity, standardization, and even elitism. “'I'm not into effeminate guys” is a constant, as is “I'm not into fat guys”.

In this environment of extremely high value for toned biceps and abs, being masculine – and looking very masculine – is the strongest currency. Thus, men seen as “little women” are disqualified. This is what researcher Carlos Alberto de Carvalho calls “misogynistic heteronormativity”, in which the masculine and masculinities are placed as positive – on the other hand, femininities and the feminine are valued negatively. It is, therefore, an environment of hegemonic masculinity and subaltern masculinities.

The global soap opera “Terra e Paixão” [Land & Passion] currently features an illustration that refers to this scenario, with the character Kelvin (actor Diego Martins), an “effeminate” gay man in love with Ramiro (Amaury Lorenzo), the masculine man, self-declared heterosexual, who desires the other person, but still doesn't know how to deal with the situation. What diminishes the power of the first is precisely its proximity to what is considered “womanly”. But, looking at Grindr, even the desirable “brucutu” [Brazilian slang for a brute and rude man] has his limits: issues such as level of education have weight in the app used mostly by gay and bisexual men, where it is common to read “no illiterates”.

The LGBTQIA+ culture, in which rich and middle-class white homosexual men repeatedly appear to discriminate against other peers from the same community, is a central sociological issue for discussing social inequalities not only in Brazil, but throughout the world. “Queer cultural production has helped to reproduce class distinctions based on the hegemony of representations of middle-class gays”, writes Lisa Henderson in the article “I’m not/I'm not into: circulating meanings in the presentation speeches of the Grindr app”, by Rafael Grohmann. In the same text, Juan Marsiaj summarizes: “Such a strategy can lead to the acceptance of a type of gay (white, middle class), seen as a model of citizen-consumer, and a greater marginalization of all other 'debauches' who do not fit this way. In more Brazilian terms: there is a risk of accepting rich gays and further marginalizing poor queers.”

Discrimination on the part of this part of the queer community was evidenced in a historic episode in the 1970s, in super liberal New York. In June 1973, the Christopher Street Liberation Day Rally took place in the city, a demonstration held in favor of the rights of the queer population – which, at that time, as we will see, in fact was basically limited to white, middle-class gay women and men.

But, among the public, was the activist Sylvia Rivera, a transvestite who in 1971 had created the Revolutionary Action of Street Transvestites, STAR. Rivera had been trying to get on stage for some time, but Jean O’Leary, a lesbian white radical feminist, acted to prevent her from participating. A sample of how, many times, cisgender homosexual/bisexual women also enact the same discrimination as homosexual/bisexual men.

When he finally managed to grab the microphone, Rivera took aim at the hundreds of mostly white gay men and women present. Her speech is a synthesis of the violence experienced by queers who are too effeminate, too poor, too black, or too latine.

“I've tried to speak out here all day for your gay brothers and sisters in jail. They write to me every damn week asking for help – and you don't do a damn thing for them. I lost my job and my apartment for gay liberation… and you guys treat me this way?” she screamed.

The anger had yet another weight and meaning: alongside another important name, the transvestite Marsha P. Johnson, Rivera went down in history as one of the first to face police repression at the New York bar Stonewall Inn, on June 28, 1969. The conflict was the trigger for a fundamental civil movement for human rights – so much so that the date ended up becoming what was then called International LGBT+ Pride Day.

The question remained: how could that engaged audience repudiate the person who, at just 18 years old, spoke out against violence that was not directed just at her? How could they recriminate someone who pulled the trigger that would benefit precisely that white homosexual population?

Rivera and Johnson, who lived in a shelter, were profoundly different from the majority of the public who would return to their comfortable homes after the demonstration. Unlike Rivera, the daughter of a Venezuelan mother and a Puerto Rican father, most had not spent nights in jail or suffered police rape. The activist died homeless, alone, without the care she should have received. Marsha P. Johnson, the decorated, made-up, smiling, super queer transvestite, was murdered and her body thrown into a river.

Thinking historically and humanly about both is a central issue in the debate on hatred of “feminine” and other diverse discriminations present among the LGBTQIA+ population. The right-wing has long opened a war against women, and the rise of red pill assholes is just one of the phenomena of this reality. It still includes names like former federal deputy Daniel Silveira, who broke the plaque with Marielle's name alongside Rodrigo Amorim. [Note from the translator: Marielle Franco was a black bisexual favela-born leftist councilwoman who was assassinated by militias.]

But, as it turns out, misogyny is not exclusive to right-wing radicals and conservatives. And if Sylvia and Marsha were on the front line to guarantee the rights of millions of people, without distinction of creeds, race, genders, and degrees of “femininity”, it is worth asking: when will cisgender gay men, mostly white and middle class, join, with emphasis and strength, debates such as the right to abortion, employment, and wages, issues of life and death for the majority of black Brazilian women? When will the majority of this same group take a stand on the thousands of rapes that mainly victimize girls and teenagers? What collectivities, after all, are we talking about? As Jorge Ben would say in the song Zumbi: I want to see. We're here.

Source, translated by the blogger.

#LGBT #feminism #asks #anonymous #translations and summaries #mod nise da silveira #image description in alt

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