#(save when they're being harmful but like i said. gender's a personal thing & individual persons can't be stereotypes)

[nobody-knose--archive]

how long until people start realizing that gender is personal

[hitoshiikigai]

Foreign Feelings

anon request: Hiya there Sen!! I love your blog and i would love to read more of your writings. Can i request an imagine for being like a first year european shy student and becoming Nekoma’s manager, she slowly develops a crush for kenma but doesn’t know how to express her feelings because of language and because she thinks kenma won’t return her feelings

‪(o_ _)ﾉ彡☆ a/n 「i made it gender neutral, i hope that's ok and if it's not, i can change it to your liking! also, this is my first romance fic in my whole life, i hope it's satisfactory(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞ i feel like i just forgot the slowly part-」

‪pronouns used: they/them

‪word count: 2.8k

You continuously repeat your introduction in your head as you wait for your turn. It's ok, you can do this, you've learnt this in basic Japanese lessons, it's just a few lines. Nothing too complicated!

The voice of the person behind you breaks the chant in your mind, "I'm Haiba Lev and..." Your thoughts block out the rest of his introduction. Is he a foreigner too? That name definitely does not sound Japanese but you note of his perfect pronunciation- a screech of a chair moving startles you and you're suddenly aware of the eyes of your new classmates staring right at you.

Sucking in a deep breath, you stand up, doing a bow, the Japanese words tumbling clumsily out of your mouth, "I'm (Y/N) (L/N)- no wait- (L/N) (Y/N), please just call me (y/n). Nice to meet all of you." You keep your eyes on your desk as you bow once again before sitting back down. You pretend not to notice the murmurs and sounds of interest about the two foreign students in their class, busying yourself by preparing your things for the lesson.

Mechanical pencil on the right. Pencil case right above your notebook. The ruler-

"Psst... Hey, you're not from Japan, right?" You turn around to meet glowing green eyes that somehow made you feel like you were looking into a cat's eyes instead. You nod and he grins in what you could guess as excitement. However, before he could say any more, he was cut off by the teacher signalling the start of class.

Maybe he's a potential friend?

After a few lessons of trying to keep up with the lessons taught in Japanese, your brain's finally granted with a break from trying to translate and you can't help the sigh that escapes you as you rest your cheek on your table, closing your eyes.

"Hey Y/N! Wanna have lunch with me?" You open your eyes to see your tall classmate looming over you- right, his name's Lev. Or should you call him Haiba?

You quickly weigh the pros and cons of eating with him. He seems like a nice person to be friends with and having a non-Japanese friend in this less-than-familiar country could definitely do you some good, maybe your Japanese can improve faster as well. But... you were planning to just find some nice quiet spot to listen to music in hopes of preventing the growing headache, a result of an overwhelming first day.

Well, there's no harm, you suppose... "Sure, I don't mind," you agree and you search for your wallet in your bag as Lev waits patiently.

Once he sees you're ready, he smiles widely and starts walking to the cafeteria most likely and you follow him, having to walk slightly faster to keep up.

"Where are you from? I'm half-Russian but I can't speak Russian. Oh! I know a few people here already! I visited the school before the school year started and made friends with people from the volleyball team. I'm actually gonna join the team once they start taking in applicants and-" Lev rambles on and you could only hum or nod, insert a few words of your own when he asks a question until you reach the cafeteria.

"Lev! Here! You're late!" You see a student with black messy hair that spikes up everywhere except for the fringe that covers his right eyes waving his arm. Lev bounds up to the table with you in tow and you can already see a few curious eyes examining you. Your gaze sweeps across the table, an uninterested guy playing with a switch catching your eyes a tiny fraction longer than the others before you look down at the floor, shuffling just a bit behind Lev, your current shield.

"This is Y/N, my new friend! They're not from Japan and I thought I could show them around," Lev claps his hands on your shoulders and moves you forward, putting you right in the spotlight.

Oh no. Ok, deep breaths. A simple introduction, no big deal. It's definitely a smaller group, better than a whole class.

"H-hi..." You clear your throat, cursing yourself mentally for the stutter, and repeat yourself with what you hope was a stronger voice. There's a chorus of greetings and before you even realise, you find yourself squished between Lev and a friendly-looking guy with a buzzcut, who you soon come to know as Kai, after a round of introductions.

How did you end up here? In a gym full of flying balls that could accidentally hit your face anytime? With your arms full of water bottles that you just filled up? You definitely did not sign up for this... Ok, well technically you did, you just didn't know what was in store. Try being a manager just for one practice, they said. Somehow, it feels like you were tricked somewhere along the line.

You hand the water bottles to the boys, jolting slightly when your hand unintentionally brushes against Kenma's. He thanks you quietly and you only nod in acknowledgment, avoiding any form of eye-contact with him and quickly moving on to hand the rest of the water bottles out before going back to the sidelines to watch.

It's really amazing watching them play. Everyone seems so coordinated with each other and the teamwork is seamless. Despite that, there are a few individuals that pique your interest: Yaku who seems to be able to teleport anywhere in the court, Lev with his tall and powerful stature, and more importantly, Kenma with his smart plays. It's like he calls the game, dictating where and how the ball goes and it's a whole experience observing him. Of course, the other members are amazing in their own ways, watching the team play is like watching a well-oiled machine working.

"How are you, Y/N?" Kai asks from beside you, wiping his sweat and giving you a warm smile.

You peel your eyes away from the quiet setter to answer Kai, and also to make sure you aren't caught staring at the certain player, "It's..." You try to find the correct words in your brain as Kai waits patiently for your answer. "It's nice... to watch. Everyone's good." You blush in embarrassment at the simple words you used, not having the full vocabulary to communicate what you really want to say. Kai, being the angel he is, makes a noise of approval and gives another warm smile which at least make you relax.

"If you need help with anything, you can ask any of us," he tells you before going back to the courts. You bow to him which he only waves off, laughing amiably.

After attending a few more practice sessions and having lunch with the team almost every break, you've grown a bit more comfortable with them, especially with Kai and Yaku, along with Lev. The team always tried their best to use simpler words whenever they spoke to you and you're definitely grateful for their efforts. However, there's just one person you've barely interacted with:

Kozume Kenma.

The third years obviously noticed the lack of interaction, especially Kuroo and he made it his own personal mision to try to get the two of you to talk to each other more, albeit with many difficulties.

"Come on, Kenma. You don't think I don't notice you paying attention anytime Y/N talks? You're not exactly very slick, you always pause your games just for Y/N," Kuroo nudges Kenmas side with his elbow which Kenma slaps away in irritation.

"Shut up Kuroo."

Kuroo leans in closer to Kenma, "You can't tell me you don't notice Y/N staring at you during practice? Blushing whenever you're 5 metres away from each other? Or when-"

"Kuroo, please just shut up," Kenma groans and glares at his switch, clicking away at the buttons and suppressing the urge to scream in anger as the words 'GAME OVER' flash on the screen. Instead, he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply before letting out a long sigh.

Kuroo smiles knowingly before his eyes shift over to something behind Kenma.

"Kuroo-senpai? Kenma-senpai? Has Kai-san arrived yet? I need to ask him something..." Kenma stiffens as your soft voice reaches his ears. He bristles at the 'senpai' title attached to his name, wanting you to just rid of the honorific altogether. He was supposed to tell you, in fact, he had been wanting to tell you to just refer to him casually just like everyone does but he never got the chance. How could he when your conversations only last 30 seconds long each time?

Jump. Jump. Duck. Ju- GAME OVER.

He pressed down his buttons more aggressively, a frown slowly forming on his face. Why couldn't he be more talkative? Why is talking so hard? Why is talking to YOU so hard? Lev does it so easily, Kai too, and Yaku and... and just everyone in the team but him.

You stare in concern as you watch Kenma play angrily with his game and you look to Kuroo for answers only to be met with a shrug.

"Yaku will be running late, some class meeting or something," Kuroo stands up and stretches, walking out of the gym, "Meanwhile, I'll go get my things."

The sounds from Kenma's game filled up the awkward silence and you take a moment to steel yourself, walking towards Kenma. "A-are you okay, Kenma-senpai? You look... angry?" At your question, Kenma's fingers still and the sounds suddenly stopped.

Kenma looks up at you and places his switch on his lap before looking away. "I'm okay... I'm not angry." He mumbles and you smile in relief at his words. "Do you want to play?" He suddenly offers his switch to you and you blink in shock, never really having known or seen him to ever share his switch with someone, simply rejecting anyone- save for that tangerine boy from another school- who tried to even get their hands on his beloved switch.

Noticing your hesitance, he places the gadget on the bench, between the two of you, letting you take your time. You look back to search for anything that will clue you in if he doesn’t actually want to do this, but finding none, you gingerly take it, careful not to drop it or at least try to not leave any embarrassingly sweaty fingerprints. You feel Kenma shifting closer to you to get a closer look at the screen and you don’t know if you feel lightheaded from him being the closest he has ever been that you can actually feel body heat radiating from him or from forgetting to breathe. Trying to focus on the little digital character instead and your fingers clumsily hitting the buttons, a contrast to the way his nimble fingers moved with muscle memory.

And if you felt butterflies in your stomach as he occasionally positioned your fingers on the correct button, the butterflies immediately flew away the moment Lev walks in the gym and you were left with just tingling fingers.

You cradle the box of apple pie you bought in a rush from the bakery, trying to tidy up the ribbon you tied around it to make it more presentable. You had asked Kai about what Kenma liked because you knew there was no way you could write or even say anything close to romantic in Japanese, so you figured out you could give him little gifts, you know, actions soeak louder than words, that kinda thing? As you think of the many ways you could say something wrong by declaring your feelings to him in a foreign tongue like unknowingly saying something ridiculous, or stupid, or even worse, something dirty! Lev’s incessant teasing and mock-kissing noises only stopped when you reached the gym.

“Oh? Y/N-chan, who’s that apple pie for, I wonder,”Kuroo gives you a knowing look and blatantly stares at Kenma, who just seems unbothered. You try to reason yourself that he was only concentrating on his game. Ignoring Kuroo, you take a tentative step towards Kenma, making sure you’re in his line of sight before thrusting the box to him, “For you Kenma… Uh, enjoy it!” You blurted out before brisk walking to the equipment room to take refuge, not even waiting for his reaction.

You hear the muffled shouts of the boys and you can imagine them crowding Kenma. You wince in sympathy.

During the whole practice, you had to deflect the many looks and questions the boys gave you. Thankfully, Kai managed to stop them before it got too much. A godsend. Before any of them could corner you after practice, you zoomed past the gym doors the moment you were done with your manager duties, forgetting that you had barely paid any attention to Kenma the whole time.

“Lev, do you know who’s this from?” You ask Lev, holding up the canned drink that was left on your table.

“Oh, that’s from Kenma. He came here earlier to place it there. He honestly could’ve just asked me to pass it to you but he said I would lose it or something. How mean,” Lev huffs but you can only focus on the fact that Kenma went through efforts to make sure you received it.

“Thank you for the apple pie yesterday. It was really nice,” Kenma took a seat beside you, on the same bench you first played his switch together.

“T-thank you for the drink! It’s my favourite,” you smile shyly. The corner of his lips curl up, just ever so slightly, which you think was the trick of the light.

Kenma gives his switch to you, now a weekly routine for the both of you on days he finishes class earlier. The distance between you and him grew smaller and smaller until your elbows brush against his at any slight movement.

This is it. This is the moment. You made a mental deal with yourself a week ago. If you win this level today, the one where you always lose, you’ll confess to him and if you don’t, you’ll simply leave your feelings hidden and buried deep in the safe in your heart.

Your eyebrows furrow in concentration, refusing any help from Kenma (Kenma just ignored the tiny sting in his heart when you did).

In the meantime, Kenma takes the chance to watch you, sharp, feline eyes studying your features. The stray baby hairs peeking out after a long school day, the slight sheen on your skin from the hot and humid gym, the determination in your eyes. Determination? To beat the level? He restrains himself from chuckling at your cuteness. This felt very different when he watches Shouyo play his video games. Kenma just really feels different any time he’s around you.

You abruptly stand up and cheer, “I did it! Kenma, look!” You show him the screen with the words ‘MISSION COMPLETE’ flashing repeatedly on the screen. You grinned widely at him and he smiles back in fondness.

Suddenly, you go all quiet, which concerned Kenma. “I have something to tell you.” At that, he tilts his head, urging for you to go on.

“I… IlikeyouKenma!” Your words end up being stringed together but from the widening of his eyes, he mostly likely understood.

“You do?”

You nod with pink dusting your cheeks, your fingers fiddling with the ends of your blouse. You’re prepared to get rejected, maybe even move back to Europe and never show your face to him again. And if not, at least you could quit the manager position to avoid any future confrontations with him.

“I like you too, Y/N,” he replies softly, but it was definitely audible in the quiet gym.

And if all else fails- wait what? This time, it’s your turn to look at him wide-eyed, processing what he just said.

“Y/N! Did you leave me for your boyfriend?!” The doors burst open with Lev boisterously shouting, Yaku walking calmly behind him with a twitching eyebrow.

You backpedal away from Kenma, dropping the switch in surprise and you scramble to pick it up, saying a stream of apologies to him, wiping away the dust and checking for any cracks.

Yaku, being more aware of the mood, kicks the back of Lev’s knees, adding a smack to the back of the head for good measure, hissing, “Shut up, you idiot!”

You make eye contact with Kenma before bursting into giggles, him just letting out a snort. You’re just glad you managed to confess before Lev could confess for you.

[1 New Message]

Kenma: wanna beat the next level after practice? you can come over to my house for dinner

You: yes! i’d love to!

[zvezdacito]

I feel like the reason the "women needing help/saving" has become considered a trope that should never be written forever and weakness in women is just confirming to traditional gender roles or something is because people look and react to these tropes in a very shallow and superficial way, and not examining the core reason that makes these tropes harmful. They also usually don't want to make the work to fully represent as much people within these groups, they just want a token character guideline to follow and then be done with it.

The damsel trope is usually harmful because the story usually uses it to frame the damsel as a prize to be won to add to the savior's status and usually ends her entire character there. This type of damsel does not allow the woman to be her own individual person with personality, beliefs, motivations, feelings, and thoughts.

Here she's become an object to advance the plot or the hero's status instead of a real person like the rest of the characters who just happens to need some help because she's human and not invinsible. She's basically in a weak spot for other characters development, but never actually her own.

It also becomes a problem when the toxic aspects about this character, which is needing to be passive/saved for the sake of letting others who are usually men to shine is made to be the standard women should follow to be "proper people" in society.

But like the people above said representation isn't a "one size fits all" thing and replacing one fixed unfluid gender standard with another but hiding it behind feminism this time doesn't really help anyone. Especially for women who can't help but need help (such as disabled women), or women who are usually not given the chance to feel beautiful, vulnerable, safe or worthy of the dedication of saving (such as black/darker skinned women and trans women).

So the damsel in a story being good or bad rep for women really just depends on the framing of it and good character writing. If you don't conform to the ableist and misogynstic framings the trope is usually utilized for, then you're not really conforming to anything harmful, you'd even be representing more marginalized groups and affirming to people that whatever vulnerabilities they may have does not lessen their wholeness and dignity as a human person, and that they're not holding anyone back for needing help.

A lot of people also don't talk about how making the "no weaknesses girlboss" character sometimes becomes another way toxic masculinity manifests, which is weird cause we encourage men to move past that but fsr we now love forcing it onto ourselves for the sake of being "progressive women"

Also men have been weaponizing the girlboss to act dense on purpose and basically not even try to help women face the systematic barriers created by the patriarchy, since she's "so strong and independent. And therefore responsible for making sure she doesn't get harmed by circumstances out of her individual control. Therefore we don't need to do a thing because wouldn't you just call us anti-feminist if we do that😁"

There's never such a thing as "enough representation" for opressed groups, create as much different kinds of representation as possible to represent as many different kinds of people as possible. Creating a fixed model for representation for it to be "safe" and palatable is just a disservice to many people in those groups.

Like before, if you did that you wouldn't be representing people, you'd be back to representing ideals.

When I was younger and more abled, I was so fucking on board with the fantasy genre’s subversion of traditional femininity. We weren’t just fainting maidens locked up in towers; we could do anything men could do, be as strong or as physical or as violent. I got into western martial arts and learned to fight with a rapier, fell in love with the longsword.

But since I’ve gotten too disabled to fight anymore, I… find myself coming back to that maiden in a tower. It’s that funny thing, where subverting femininity is powerful for the people who have always been forced into it… but for the people who have always been excluded, the powerful thing can be embracing it.

As I’m disabled, as I say to groups of friends, “I can’t walk that far,” as I’m in too much pain to keep partying, I find myself worrying: I’m boring, too quiet, too stationary, irrelevant. The message sent to the disabled is: You’re out of the narrative, you’re secondary, you’re a burden.

The remarkable thing about the maiden in her tower is not her immobility; it’s common for disabled people to be abandoned, set adrift, waiting at bus stops or watching out the windows, forgotten in institutions or stranded in our houses. The remarkable thing is that she’s like a beacon, turning her tower into a lighthouse; people want to come to her, she’s important, she inspires through her appearance and words and craftwork.  In medieval romances she gives gifts, write letters, sends messengers, and summons lovers; she plays chess, commissions ballads, composes music, commands knights. She is her household’s moral centre in a castle under siege. She is a castle unto herself, and the integrity of her body matters.

That can be so revolutionary to those of us stuck in our towers who fall prey to thinking: Nobody would want to visit; nobody would want to listen; nobody would want to stay.