#she is a complex character that can’t be judged as stereotype
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It's almost funny how anti-feminist fire and Blood actually is. All the female characters either have cartoonish characterization (the evil stepmother, the tyrannical queen), or have no personality whatsoever. Rhaenys is the "Queen who never was" but actively supports the murder of her son and the daughter of her 'usurper' cousin? Laena is the rider of Vhaegar and... brave? Baela and Rhaena love their stepmom and stepsiblings, have no ambitions, character defining traits or resentments.
GRRM actually goes out of his way to mock American feminism in Fire and Blood. He has Mushroom, a crime and sex addicted (male) jester, refer to the Maiden’s Day Ball of 133–in which Aegon III was to choose a bride amongst the maidens of the Kingdoms—as “the Maiden’s Day Cattle show”. This is a reference to the radical feminist protest of the 1968 Miss America contest at Atlantic City, which included signs such as these:
Although maybe not as well known today especially outside the USA, the protest had a profound effect on the image of second wave feminism. The protesters claimed in a 10 point manifesto that the pageant judged women like animals at a county fair (to the point they mockingly crowned a sheep Miss America), was racist (having only crowned white women so far), supported the military-industrial complex, was consumerist, led to double standard stereotypes (“both sexy and wholesome, delicate but able to cope, demure yet titillatingly bitchy”), celebrated mediocrity by elevating beauty rather than intelligence/ambition as the goal for girls to aspire. They also set up Freedom Trash Cans in which to throw away makeup and bras (the inaccurate report that they’d burned these items gave rise to the stereotype of feminists as bra burners), among other tactics.
All right, so I think it’s obvious that GRRM intended the “Maiden’s Day Cattle Show” to be a reference to the 1968 “Miss America Cattle Auction”, since women were judged based on their appearance and perhaps a brief interview for the ultimate benefit of a young man, Aegon III. There are a few things I found annoying about the reference. One, is that the narrative does not criticize the pageant, quite the opposite; the great lords forced the cruel Lord Peake’s hand in letting Aegon get a chance to choose his new bride, rather than be betrothed to Myrielle and thus give the Peakes long-lasting power. Two, is that it’s Mushroom—who, as mentioned, delights in telling us about the sexual exploits of especially noblewomen—who mocks the ball as a Cattle Show, rather than a woman of any social class; this takes the criticism of beauty standards and women reduced to objects for the pleasure of a male audience (as it was in the original protest)….and turns it into a sassy remark by a man who loves to talk about women as sexual objects. It’s not the families or House Targaryen being criticized for having the ball take place (in fact, Rhaena and Baela presenting Daenaera with a “found your queen” is presented as a dramatic, triumphant moment over the grasping Lord Peake) and parading their daughters around, it’s Mushroom mocking the women as objects only worth their carnal beauty and riches (“Each maid seemed lovelier than the last…. It would be hard to picture anything more beautiful, unless perhaps all of them had arrived naked”. Btw yes, he does wax lyrical on Daenaera’s beauty even though she’s 6). GRRM was so proud of this reference that he partly named the chapter after it: War and Peace and Cattle Shows. Knowing that it comes from an iconic USA feminist protest against beauty standards for women, and how he used it as a joke for his favorite character Mushroom to mock women, I can’t find it funny. Just annoying, and maybe a little insulting.
tl;dr yes I agree, F&B wrote many female characters lacking in nuance (either evil stepmothers, Mary Sues, or tragic victims. Not to put the blame on victims, but that GRRM uses these types of characters to just suffer and then die horribly, with little attempt to treat the issues they face from their POV). The author mocked feminist iconography in a few instances in this book. Not just with the “Maiden’s Day Cattle Show” (though that just seemed the most obvious) but with his one-note stand-in (whose role in the story is to get hundreds of Faith Militant killed in an unsuccessful rescue from a public execution) for Joan of Arc “the Maid of Orleans”, who has been an icon of Western feminism since the contemporary writings of Christine of Pisa.
#anti fire and blood#anti grrm#ask#rants#anti asoiaf#history#parallels#united states#second wave feminism
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A fascinating read. I love Soller’s detailed thought process: https://editorial.rottentomatoes.com/article/andors-kyle-soller-discusses-the-slippery-fate-awaiting-ambitious-obsessive-syril-karn/
The amount of thought that he put into this:
“[It] definitely falls in line with this intellectual belief that the corporate fascist environment and system is something that is the answer to control and regulate society. And Syril’s core values — beliefs of rule and order and law, and really good tailoring – the circumstances of his life and his dampening of his own emotional antenna and social antenna absolutely primes him to exist within that structure.“
Does that mixture make him the most dangerous person we’ve met so far?
Soller: I think it definitely makes for someone who’s not necessarily in control, and that is something that we’re exploring with Syril. He has this deep emotional life that he keeps bitten down beneath his surface. Everything is zipped up into this perfect hairstyle, perfect clothing, and yet there is this massive, frustrated turmoil underneath. And that means he’s constantly at battle within himself, and he can’t really see five feet beyond him about how his actions are influencing those around him.
I love how this show is turning familiar concepts on their head. And here is another great example. The clumsy, doomed to trip over nothing or run into a hallway and get shot villain stereotype. The comical bad guy.
Syril Karn may have the color and consistency of a wet noodle, but he isn’t incompetent, actually is good at what he does and whether you want to admit it or not, is rather perceptive. His major flaw isn’t incompetence or a lack of insight so much as not being the best judge of situations and their complexity. He has a laser focus, he’s obsessive, he notices things but does not always draw the proper conclusion or see the big picture. He’s obsessed with the “how”, but does not ask “Why? which makes him the perfect tool for a giant fascist super structure. He never realized that Verlo and Kravas were not worth vindicating, and were in all likelihood running a racket where they would abuse their authority to mug people under the guise of doing their job in order to fund their expensive revnog and brothel habit. He doesn’t even probe any further into their backgrounds or asses their characters. They are the victims and Cassian is the suspect. It seems that he has very little experience interacting with people on a more practical, human level so he sorts them into types based on his upbringing/indoctrination. He has intuition and intellect but lacks certain tools.
His confrontation/meeting with Dedra is off-putting and alarming but like it or not, he’s not wrong about her. We just get so distracted by how he internalizes everything and lives inside of his own head and is socially awkward that we forget to notice that he is actually potentially very dangerous.
Sure, Timm Karlo snitched on Cassian. But the only reason that the bulletin went out to Ferrix in the first place was because Syril went to the navigation room, saw a blip on a screen and had someone filter the evening for unmarked vehicles. Because he spotted the vehicle in question and traced it back to Ferrix is the reason that Timm was even given the opportunity at all. Syril knew what to look for and what channels to go through. And given Syril’s disposition, I do not doubt that in the absence of an anonymous tip, he would have gone down to the planet regardless and questioned folks. He was not about to let it go.
Syril slurping his cereal is amusing. His mother is toxic and overbearing, but Kathryn Hunter’s mannerisms are oftentimes funny. The way that she changes tack at the speed of light when she finds out that Syril has received a promotion feels humorous. But she’s done a real number on her son and only values him for his status even if she loves him. This show is great for illustrating how there are many faces and sides to people and to situations, that something funny can be pretty awful, that nasty people can crack jokes or appear somewhat silly, but it does not lessen their impact.
Syril’s halting speech, the doe-eyed look of warped admiration that he gives Dedra. From a certain angle, these examples are hilarious (as well as creepy). And yet they are not. This is not like certain other Star Wars products that I will not name where the antagonists truly are laugh out loud ridiculous, over the top caricatures of fascist rhetoric and goose stepping hijinks.
No, I do not honestly think that Syril is going to snap and murder his mother. I’m also not convinced that he’s a bomb waiting to go off. The writers are far too subtle for that. But he is definitely up to something and awkward or not he is calculating. We underestimate his potential threat at our peril. He’s raising alarms and generally annoying Dedra Meero in particular, but it isn’t as haphazard and foolish as it appears. I would also argue that Sgt. Mosk is responsible for a lot of what went kablooey on Ferrix. He was a bored fanatic, a zealot who smelled an opportunity to strike and who could be seen drinking on the job and had all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. (You don’t send in 12 men armed to the teeth and barge into town to track down a twitchy suspect.) Syril just happened to be along for the ride and didn’t do much except follow him into disaster. But now he has learned from his mistakes, found a better, far more cool, competent class of authoritarian nutjob, spotted her weakness even if she hasn’t yet realized it and is waiting for the moment when she inevitably contacts him, if say Bix escapes or she has no other leads, and demonstrates that she is as desperate to find Cassian as Syril suspects. Just because he wears his fervor like a badge and gushes his elation at Dedra when he runs across her again, does not mean that he is creepy but ineffectual. After all, why hasn’t she had him arrested yet?
I mean, he could very well slip on a banana peel in the next three eps and prove me wrong. But the point still stands, that unlike other shows this one is showing us again and again via Syril, Luthen, Lt. Gorn, Vel, Tay Kolma etc that you cannot judge a person by their appearance alone, that peoples’ allegiances and the scope of them are not always what they seem at first glance, that seriousness can hide behind levity, that all clothing is a costume, a disguise, and that everyone wears a series of masks hiding their true nature from the audience.
#star wars#andor#andor spoilers#andor meta#syril karn#kyle soller#dedra meero#antagonists#masks#clothing#costumes#tailoring as a metaphor#no but really#i live for costume anaylsis
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25 THINGS ABOUT CREATING CHARACTERS
As a writer, creating characters is probably the most important thing you do. Get it wrong, and the story will be wrong no matter how well plotted.
Here are 25 things to know:
Characters that have everything they need and want in life are pretty damn boring.
In the real world, strong female characters go by another name: women. Try writing about them.
Not every character needs to have some past trauma simmering beneath the surface to be interesting. Well adjusted people can be just as deep and complex if you give them the right goals.
There’s a difference between being quintessential and being a cartoon, but not a big one.
Watching a character fail but keep trying is usually more interesting than watching them succeed.
Don't judge your characters--even the villains. If you do, they'll lack truth. Instead, find out why they are the way they are, and accept them for it.
Often what we remember most about memorable characters is how they interact externally--think, Mulder and Scully, Romeo and Juliet, Lucy and Ethel. The interaction, the relationship, these are traits in and of themselves.
Real people sometimes like lascivious and licentious things: porn or weed or orgies, or porn, weed and orgies—you get the idea. So, why can’t your character like some of these things, too?
Sometimes they should die.
A name is a terrible thing to waste, and it can shape your character more than you might think. Choose wisely.
There are no recipes for great characters, but if there were — the chef would probably create something simple with a few, fresh and fantastic ingredients instead of a plethora of overly processed junk.
Archetypes are for people who are too afraid to be creative.
Even an evil character who’s evil for evil’s sake has redeeming qualities that allow us to empathize. Find them and play them up.
It’s okay if the character’s gender is the last thing about them you decide.
At a base level, every character wants the same things: food, shelter, sex — how the these primary instincts, the id if you will, interact with the ego (personal identity) can be an endless source of exploration.
Just because a character lives in the past doesn’t mean she has to conform to outdated stereotypes.
They all have flaws, and it’s the flaws that make them who they are.
In real life, we strive to avoid conflict. But in fiction, characters who always agree have no life—at least, not one worth reading about.
A character’s back story is the least important thing in the story.
Don’t be surprised when a character you’ve created does something you don’t expect. That’s called magic and you should just get out of its way.
The thing your character wants most might never surface in the story, but it still drives every. single. thing. they. do.
Real people are seldom interesting enough to make great characters. Create, don’t imitate.
They don’t always tell the truth.
Likewise, they don’t always say what’s on their minds.
When drawn correctly, when given goals and even just a few layers, most of the other details fall into place.
Credits Justin McLachlan
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Love it when people say Azula pushed people away who cared about her, the thing is there were never people shown who cared about her in the series, it was never shown that she pushed someone away either. So stop calling bs and find a actual reason to blame Azula for things she actually did.
#azula#atla#princessazula#prinzessin azula#god I’m so sick to read the same old arguments#that people just assume because they think Azula is a stereotype of a character#guess what she isn’t one#she is a complex character that can’t be judged as stereotype#so no one was ever shown to be pushed away by Azula#and no one cared about her personally#Zuko and Iroh never did#Mai and Ty Lee are a complicated case#Azula was not shown to push them away#avatar the last airbender#stop making things up about Azula so it’s easier to blame her for everything#fandom scapegoat azula
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im new to this whole batfam thing! what are some popular headcanons and interpretations of the characters??
Anyone else, feel free to chime in.
1. Tim is a sleepless coffee addict
Canon basis: little to none, other than a couple instances where he's seen drinking coffee or mentions staying up late to work. He's human, and no human can conceivably do what he does on no sleep and unhealthy lifestyle.
2. Dick loves cereal
Canon basis: again, not much other than some one-off instances
3. Jason is a literature nerd
Canon basis: there's some substance to this one. We've seen him quoting Shakespeare and reading Austen on multiple occasions, and when he was younger he had a love of school and learning. Jason's overall a well-read and articulate guy, which also points toward a love of classics.
4. Damian loves animals
Canon basis: this one's well-established with parts of the narrative including why Damian loves animals so much—because they can't judge his past the way people do. He's got the most pets out of anyone in the Manor and has no shame showing his gentler side to other creatures.
5. Damian loves art
Canon basis: also true—after Damian's death, we see Bruce going through Damian's sketchbook and it's clear he's remarkably talented. There have also been other instances where we see him drawing or otherwise engaging in art.
6. Cass is the good girl
Canon basis: um... not much. I think Cass's "good girl" reputation is born largely out of stereotypes for Asian girls. In the comics, she is her own breed of chaos and fits in perfectly with the boys. (There was this one panel where she contemplated spitting in someone's face just out of spite but I can't find it.)
7. Stephanie loves waffles
Canon basis: though there's some, I'm not quite sure to what extent. We've seen her enjoy it on multiple occasions and it's said she even makes them better than Alfred (according to Tim).
8. Duke is the normal one
Canon basis: no. Just... no. Compared to the rest of the bats, sure, but that's only 'cause he's newer. But we're talking about a boy who formed We Are Robin when Batman went MIA. We're talking about a boy who jumped off a bridge into a river while running from cops. We're talking about a boy who canonically has PTSD because of the Joker, and who fought dangerous criminals before he had a grasp of what his powers are. On that note, he's also not the boring one—he's a fantasy nerd with a complex past who writes poetry, listens to heavy metal, took on the Riddler's challenge at age ten, and loves digging up dinosaurs.
9. Alfred is a flawless badass
Canon basis: he's portrayed as this butler deus-ex-machina getting the Bats out of sticky situations. In his backstory, he was a spy before working with the Waynes and thus has the fighting experience, and in the comics, he's seen dropping witty lines and overall keeping everyone in check. Which, alright, that's fine on its own. But the fandom tends to put him on a pedestal and believes he can do no wrong, thus ignoring the weaknesses and vulnerabilities that he, like any other good character, has.
10. Bruce is a lone grimdark vigilante
Canon basis: I blame canon. Fuck the comics. I blame the writers who only watched the Nolan movies and somehow that, of the eighty-plus years of Batman content, was the best representation of Bruce Wayne. If Bruce was truly meant to be a lone wolf, why go through the trouble of making all the Robins? Why create an extensive network spanning not just his family, but also folks like the Justice League? Why give him a love interest? I fully blame the DC writers for this angsty punch-drunk image, because they're so focused on hypermasculine badassery or whatever that they forgot what the Bat symbol really stands for.
#ask#anonymous#personal#batfamily#batfam#batbros#batboys#batkids#batsiblings#batclan#batman family#dc comics#tw food mention#tw swearing
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Residual Starshine
Pairing: Soccer player!Yuta x fem!reader
Description: You’ve experienced plenty of irritations in your life. For better or for worse, none of them are quite like Nakamoto Yuta.
Word Count: 19.3k
Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers ; fluff, smut, touch of angst
Warnings: my first published full blown smut scene (only one towards the end, nothing crazy), sexual references?, swearing, mentions of alcohol
A/N: Mingyu appears as a somewhat bad character in this, but I absolutely don’t think of him that way. As always, this is entirely fictional. If you want one song to vibe to while reading this, I was listening to Everybody Talks by Neon Trees a lot :-) this is the longest fic I’ve ever written and the first one containing smut that I’ve ever published, so please let me know what you thought!
Taglist: @junglewoos @insomni-writing @neowritingsnet
This is my contribution to @/leesmrk’s sports collab, but she deactivated (Dee I miss you) so @lucas-wongs has compiled the masterlist in her stead! The link to the master post with all other submissions is in my masterlist.
You didn’t expect to be spending your first morning before classes with your face smashed into your pillow, pressing the cotton over your ears. Yesterday morning had been perfectly lovely - you slept a solid eight hours and you only awoke to the beautiful morning sunshine greeting you through your blinds. All things considered, it was a very natural wake-up. However, the loud J-rock blaring through the floor from the apartment below you is the exact opposite of natural. Perhaps the music isn’t as loud as you perceive it to be, but you happen to take things quite personally when you’re woken up an hour early.
Except, you don’t take it personally enough that you force your body out of bed. Instead, you allow yourself to let out a loud groan of annoyance before you pull your covers over your head. Thankfully, the music shuts off about five minutes later and you drift back off to sleep.
When you awaken again an hour later, the sunlight coming into your room doesn’t seem nearly as friendly as it did yesterday. Still, this time you do force yourself to get up. You go through your usual routine - bathroom, change into your running clothes, and stretch. You hear no sounds of any stirring from your roommates as you get ready. It’s somewhat of a relief to have the apartment to yourself in the morning. You put your headphones in and step out of the apartment, trying to get yourself in the zone with your workout playlist while also doing a quick look around to see if anyone is out. One set of stairs and you’re at the door leading out of the small complex - a building with four apartments, two on the first floor and two on the second floor. Outside on the step leading to the sidewalk and there’s still no one around. Without a second of hesitation more, you’re off at a light jog. Half of the apartments in this area of your campus are dedicated to student athletes and there’s nothing you dread more than running, quite literally, into someone who’s by far your superior at this activity and who would judge you. As you run, the thought of your lower neighbor comes to you. You wake up early to go run - but they woke up earlier. At that thought, a frown subconsciously makes its way to your face. Shooting a quick prayer to the heavens that you don’t run into anyone, you continue on.
Though you hadn’t started running until this summer, you know your campus well enough in the years you’ve been here to find a nice path. That also means that, when you see pairs of runners ahead of you, you can make unexpected turns to avoid passing them. At one point, you veer out of the way of a pack of people who you assume is the running club. About forty five minutes later, you’re sweaty and more physically exhausted than when you had left, but the energy thrumming in your veins leaves you with a deep sense of satisfaction. You had successfully avoided every person you had come across on your run and-
You nearly open the door of your complex into one of your neighbors. Acting on reflex, you step back and dip your head, avoiding looking at him. “Oh, sorry.”
“That’s alright.” His voice is a smooth rumble and you look up, briefly forgetting about your sweaty and near-unpresentable state. He looks freshly showered, his skin smooth and just slightly sunkissed. Based on his physique, you would have guessed that he’s a student athlete, but his hair seems a little too long to match the stereotype. It’s a bit of a mane, a dark mop sitting atop the throne of his handsome face, and you think it suits him. As your eyes drift from his hair to his eyes to his nose and finally to his mouth, which has been set into the crooked angle of a smirk, it dawns on you that you’re checking him out very openly. Your face, already warm from exercise, turns blazing hot. After all of the hard work you went through to avoid embarrassing yourself this morning… “You’re cute, too, don’t worry.”
Several very intrusive thoughts come to you at once. By his very specific phrasing, he thinks you’re attractive. He also knows he’s attractive. The warmth of the complement fades to indignation at his cockiness. You press your mouth into a thin line and lower your head again, not making eye contact with him as you slip past him through the door. You’re not sure if his gaze follows you as you march back up the stairs to your apartment.
“One of our neighbors is a total ass!”
One of your roommates, Sowon, is lounging on your sofa as you sit at the small table in your shared living room, grinding the pen in your hand into your planner in frustration. It’s well into the afternoon now, the sun casting lines of shadows through your blinds, and you’re still hung up on what happened earlier. Sowon is also perfectly aware that you’re exaggerating, but she encourages you to continue. “The soccer neighbors or the volleyball neighbors?”
“Of course it’s one of the soccer neighbors! The volleyball neighbors would never do this to me.” You huff, eying the nearly empty container of cookies on the table.
“You’re aware that Johnny just brought those over so he had an excuse to hit on Yein, right?” Sowon releases a strand of hair that she had just idly wrapped around a finger, watching it twirl in the air. Your second roommate only sighs at the mention of her name, but doesn’t deny it.
“And Doyoung was the one who actually made them. So, by association, I am entitled to an equal share of cookies.” You consider Doyoung a friend - you shared a chemistry class with him once and he seemed to tolerate your presence, even enjoy it at times. He even sends you the occasional text still. “That doesn’t mean Yein isn’t going to be the one to give the container back, though.”
Yein frowns and opens her mouth but Sowon raises a finger to stop her. “Y/N is correct.”
With a shake of her head, Yein turns her attention back to you. “You were talking about the soccer neighbor?”
After you explain the situation as truthfully and dramatically as possible to them, they look at each other once before looking back at you. Sowon speaks first. “He’s definitely flirting.”
“Or he’s just like that naturally.” Yein counters. “Who flirts at eight in the morning?”
“You’d be surprised.” After you say that, her words sink in. You ran into him at eight in the morning, when he was looking refreshed. He’s a member of the soccer team, meaning he probably exercises in the morning. He also has pretty stereotypical rocker hair. “Holy shit, he’s the asshole who was blasting J-rock through the floor this morning!”
“Okay, never mind. He is a jerk.” Sowon wrinkles her nose.
“Was it at least good J-rock?” Yein prods.
You shrug. “It was alright, I guess. But that’s besides the point!” You slam your planner closed. “I’m giving him a piece of my mind the next time I see him.”
For several days, as classes start, you still get in your morning run and, each day, without fail, you’re woken up by the boy’s J-rock about an hour early. You fail to catch him at any time of the day until, finally, you’re on your way out of the apartment one morning. As you pull open the door, you nearly ram into him once again, though the situation is reversed. He’s the one who’s sweaty and warm, headphones firmly in his ears. That changes as he smirks, popping them out at the sight of you in the door. “So, we meet again.”
“Uh-huh.” You take the position of a displeased mother about to lecture a child, your arms crossed over your chest as you block the door. “You know, I have words for you.”
“Wow, already? People usually don’t have words for me until at least the third time we’ve met. Well, at least not more than a few choice ones like-”
You cut him off before he can inflate his own ego more. “Stop playing music so loud at six in the morning.”
He tilts his head like he’s confused, but the way his lips are quirked up tells you that he knows exactly what you’re talking about. “Baseless accusations. Maybe you should take this up with Jaehyun or Kun. I would never do such a thing.”
“Come on. I know it’s you.” The look you give him is entirely unamused, so he relents slightly, the smile falling from his face.
“What are you gonna do, report me to housing?” Before you can reply that, yes, that’s exactly what you’ll do, he continues. “I’ll tell them about the parties you and your roommates have. I’m sure they’d love coming out here at 3 AM one day just to tell you to keep it down. Almost as much as they’d love to come to my door at 6 to do the same.”
He starts walking towards the door and you turn your body inward, allowing him passage while silently fuming. “You-”
“My name is Nakamoto Yuta. You can say that if you need something to scream.” He gifts you a sly wink as he unlocks his door and lets himself in, leaving you so bewildered that you can’t think of a response at all.
“Stop messing with the soccer boys.” Sowon immediately reprimands you after you recount what happened. “You know the school will punish us before they punish them.”
“Yeah, and if this is your way of flirting, you need to think of something better.” Yein adds from the connected kitchen, tossing the stir-fry in her pan. “I’m not risking getting kicked out because you decided to mess with the soccer team’s star player.”
“To be fair, I don’t think he was really upset about the interaction. He seemed amused by my reaction.” You slump down, your forehead resting on the table. “And I didn’t know who he was until he said his name.”
“Well, he doesn’t know who you are-”
“And I don’t want him to.” You cut off Sowon. “I’ll just… deal with it.”
You get one more peaceful morning of running alone before, two days after you had first talked to him, Nakamoto Yuta comes jogging up to you. You don’t hear him at first. Music blares in your earbuds, drowning out most of the background noise of the morning, and your heartbeat in your ears fills out the parts of your internal sound profile that your music doesn’t quite reach. He comes up behind you, nearly making you jump out of your skin when you see the figure of another person jogging in your peripherals. Your pace falters, but you immediately try to right yourself and regain momentum, praying he’ll just pass by you without saying anything. Except he doesn’t leave. With an internal sigh, you turn your head towards him. He offers you a grin and air-taps over his ear. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you pull out your headphones. “What?”
“Great morning, isn’t it?”
You contemplate shutting your eyes so that you can purposefully trip and eject yourself from this conversation. “I guess.”
“It’s soccer season. You know that, right?” You narrow your eyes at him, but nod. “Our first game is coming up soon.” You don’t like where this is going. “You should come.”
“You must be hard-pressed for attendees to be randomly asking your neighbor to come to your game.” You reach for your earbuds again.
“Hold on, hold on.” You pause, then immediately wonder why you’re even giving him the time of day. Still, you relent for a moment. “If you come to the game this Saturday, I’ll stop playing music so loud when I wake up.”
“If you were a kind and courteous neighbor, you would just do that without having to threaten me to go to one of your games. And,” you state flatly, “I’ve already been to enough soccer games for the rest of my life, thank you very much.”
As you jog away, he doesn’t try to stop you again, but you could swear that he seems the slightest bit disappointed.
The next morning is more of the same as usual. The same loud J-rock that wakes you up an hour early, your same run, your same shower and breakfast and classes. You consider shifting your sleep schedule so that you wake up at the same time as Yuta, though you dismiss the idea because why should you change your lifestyle to adjust for his? You’d rather suffer the early wakeup.
Except, two days after he asks you to come to one of his games, the music stops. That first morning, you wake up at your usual time. You’re prepared to be upset at Yuta waking you early again, but when your foggy morning brain processes that you had woken up to your own alarm and not his music, you lie there confused. When you go out for your run not long after, you almost hope that you’ll run into him. There’s no way he’s just being nice is there? He has to be sick or something. To your disappointment, you don't run into him and you’re just stuck in your confusion. This goes on for three more days and each day you become more perplexed.
As you’re returning to your apartment after your classes that Friday, someone holds the door for you as you approach. “Thanks-” you start, then see who’s holding it for you. “-oh! Jaehyun!”
“Hey, uh, Y/N, right?” You smile at him, nodding firmly. You’re almost surprised that he remembers your name because you’d only chatted once before, back when you were moving in. He’s perfectly polite, almost shy-seeming, and completely different from his roommate. “What’s up?”
“Nothing, I’m just getting back from classes.” Thinking of his roommate… “I was actually wondering, um…” He gives you a confused look, waiting for you to continue. “Is Yuta doing okay?”
“Yeah, he’s fine. Why?” Jaehyun hadn’t been aware that you were at all acquainted with his roommate.
You appear equally as confused as he does. “Oh, I… never mind. If you don’t mind me asking, where’s your next game?”
He brightens up at that. “It’s a home game. Tomorrow at six, don’t miss it!”
You return his smile. “Great, thanks, Jaehyun! I’ll see you around?” He sends you off with a wave before you go your separate ways, entering your respective apartments.
Should you actually go to his game? You don’t owe him anything, you never agreed to his deal, but he did stop playing his music so loud. You’re not really doing anything on Saturday either… maybe you’ll bug Sowon and Yein so that they’ll come with you.
That evening, the apartment below yours is particularly busy. All of the soccer boys are home - Yuta, Jaehyun, Kun - and the volleyball and art boys are also over - Johnny, Doyoung, Jungwoo, Taeyong, Ten, and Sicheng. After all, as Johnny says, Friday nights are for the boys. Conversation flows from school to girls to boys to soccer, upon which Jaehyun shares a very interesting observation with his friends.
“By the way, it seems like you have another admirer, Yuta.” Jaehyun says as he takes a swig of his soju, recently acquired from the nearby Korean market and grossly overpriced.
“Sure,” Yuta responds, rolling his eyes, “who would that be?”
“You know that girl from upstairs? Y/N? She asked about you today and then asked me about our next game.”
“We haven’t even had our first game and you’re already collecting fangirls? Come on, Yuta,” Kun chimes in this time, breaking away from his conversation with Sicheng about their shared organic chemistry class.
“That can’t be right,” Yuta says, leaning back into the couch, “L/N Y/N? I’m pretty sure she hates my guts. I tried to make a deal with her to get her to come to the game and she just brushed me off.”
Doyoung narrows his eyes at his friend. “Y/N doesn’t just hate people for no reason. What did you do?”
Yuta raises his hands defensively and half-glares at him. “I didn’t do anything! I was just being myself and she decided to hate me.”
“The star-player, cocky version of yourself or the normal version of yourself?” Doyoung says, looking entirely unamused.
Yuta thinks back to all of the encounters he’s had with you and cringes slightly. “Listen, she was the one who was checking me out first-”
“Stupid.” Doyoung shakes his head before taking a sip of the water he’s drinking. “Some people take well to forwardness, but not her.”
“Are you sure? Because if she’s asked after me, I think that means she likes it.”
“I am going to spike a ball into your head, you-”
“Guys, calm down,” Sicheng says with a rather flat tone. Instantly, the two bickering boys stop, resorting to glaring at each other. Jaehyun gently shoves his roommate to get his attention and the room quickly returns to normal. Later, Doyoung passes Yuta a new bottle once his has run out, so he knows that the younger was never truly angry at him. The small party doesn’t go long into the night - tomorrow’s the first game of the season, after all - and, surprisingly, there isn’t much noise from their upstairs neighbor either.
That is mostly thanks to you. You had convinced your two party-addicted friends to attend someone else’s get together instead of hosting their own, so you ushered them out of the house at around ten in the evening. You know that they’ll come back fine in a few hours, rumpled and with their makeup half sweated off, buzzing with alcohol and the blaring music of whatever houseparty they were invited to, but you still tell them that your phone will be off of silent in case they need anything. Previous semesters, you might have gone with them, but, now, you just want to sleep so you can wake up early and go on your usual run.
The morning comes with your sleep uninterrupted by your roommates. After you awaken, instead of lying in bed and contemplating life for a while, you drag yourself up and to their rooms, where you find each of them peacefully asleep in their beds. Yein bothered to change out of her party clothes and into pajamas while Sowon didn’t, her dress half off of her shoulder and bunched up under her butt. Both of them are snoring away, hugging pillows and blankets.
The relief of seeing your roommates in good condition adds a spring to your step. A few minutes later, after you’ve stretched on the floor of your bedroom, you’re halfway out the outside door of the complex when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You know who it is even before you turn around.
“Y/N,” Yuta says, grinning much too brightly for how early it is. He doesn’t seem like he’s been out yet, which is strange. “Good morning.”
“Is it?” You lift an eyebrow.
“Perfectly!” As he talks, you begin to move farther out the door. Down one step. Down two steps. On the sidewalk. “Do you want to run together?”
“Shouldn’t you be just coming back from doing that?” You pull out your phone.
He quickly matches his stride to yours. “I decided to start running an hour later on the weekends. You know, sleep in a bit since I have the time.”
“I’m happy for you.” You select a song and put one ear of your headphones in.
“Are you coming tonight?”
“Didn’t I already answer that?” In all honesty, you feel like you should be more irritated with him than you actually are. He’s at least amusing to talk to. Plus, he stopped waking you up an hour early without you even promising to come to his game.
“Yeah, but then you asked Jaehyun about it.”
You stop moving, turning to look at him. He has another one of those infuriating smirks on his face and all of your previous enjoyment flies out the window. “Maybe I’m a huge fan of his.”
“What position does he play?”
“I don’t have to answer that!” Now, your face is already warming and you haven’t even begun your exercise. You turn away from him again and begin to slowly jog. “Bye, Yuta.”
“He’s a midfielder! And I’m a forward! You can see today at the game!” He calls after you as you get farther away, his voice getting more distant. Part of you feels bad for your neighbors - the windows aren’t exactly soundproof. You just wave a hand back at him in dismissal. A minute later, you look behind you. To your great relief, and mild surprise, he isn’t following you. He went the complete opposite direction.
“Will you guys please come with me? I promise some of the guys on the team are hot.” You tug on Sowon’s sleeve like a child does to their mother when they want something.
“I thought you hated college soccer because of your brother.” She flips a page in her textbook, scribbling down something in her notes.
“I don’t think this one will be so bad. Our team is supposed to be really good this year, right?” You look hopefully at her.
“How am I supposed to know? How is anyone supposed to know? Today is their first game.” She stops attempting to study, looking at you. “Also, I’m messing around. I’ll go with you.”
You look at your other roommate, who is in the middle of the very exhaustive task of sitting on your sofa and scrolling through her phone. She gives you a thumbs up. “As long as I can put on face paint!”
A couple hours later, you find yourselves in the bleachers surrounding the soccer field. It’s a modest stadium, not a stadium at all but just a normal soccer field with bleachers on either side and some decently sized flood lights for night usage. Not too far away is a moderately sized building that is a shared locker room space for all of the school’s athletic teams. Your school never invested much of its funds into soccer until recently, largely thanks to Yuta and some of the other members who are in their third or fourth year playing who made a name for your university in the sport. You also suspect that they probably talked the ear off of the provost so that he finally agreed to give them more funding, but that’s just a personal guess.
From your place on the home side of the bleachers, you have total vision of the field. Both teams are running warm-up drills and it’s easy enough to spot the people you know: someone from your physics class named Mingyu, someone you remember from a party named Baekho, and your lower neighbors, Jaehyun, Kun, and, of course, Yuta. His hair is pulled back from his face in a small ponytail at the back of his head and a small version of your university’s lion mascot stands out proudly on his red jersey.
You purposefully make a point to look for him last, only to find that he’s completely focused. Though it’s just shooting drills, he seems like he’s entirely in the zone, his eyes sharp and calculated. From what you can tell. The physical distance between you isn’t huge, but you can’t read his expressions that well from this angle.
The sharp scream of a whistle being blown indicates that there’s five minutes until the start of the game. The teams both do a bit of last minute stretching as they gather around the coach, a man you recognize as a biology professor. Finally, just as the clock hits six, they squeeze closer together, arms slung over each others’ shoulders in a tight circle, and do some sort of indistinct chant that ends in something like “Go Lions!”
After they break away, you can see the shift in atmosphere. Everyone is completely serious. It’s the first game of the season and they aren’t going to destroy the reputation they’ve built up for the last three years. You watch as Jaehyun moves to his position as a midfielder, Kun moves to his position as defense, and Yuta lines up in the position of forward center. A coin flip gives the kick-off to the away team, a school with a hawk mascot. Everyone shifts slightly on their feet and, for a moment, the world seems to be silent. The crowd leans forward in their seats.
Then, the whistle is blown.
The game gets to a roaring start. From how cautiously the other team is playing, they seem to know the reputation of the Lions - a team that shot up out of nowhere and suddenly has one of the best forwards in college soccer. You find yourself grinning as the ball barely makes it past your team’s defensive midfielder Mingyu before it’s in the Lions’ metaphorical hands. Your midfielders carefully juggle the ball between them, passing and passing and passing, before it reaches Jaehyun at center midfield. He does his job quickly and efficiently, making it almost look easy, and the ball meets the half-tip. From there, the ball is stolen by one of the Hawks’ defense at a failed pass to the second striker, Baekho. The ball shoots all the way to midfield.
For a few tense minutes, you watch the players run back and forth across the field, their eyes never leaving the target. The game pauses every so often when the ball gets kicked out of bounds, but it always resumes with just as much vigor. About a quarter of the way through the game, Yuta finally has his breakthrough. Jaehyun lands a kick directly in his direction, giving him the perfect opportunity. The strike is clean and so fast that you would have missed it if your eyes weren’t glued to the movements of the ball. All of the people on your side of the bleachers launch to their feet in roaring cheers as the ball sails past the opponent goalie’s right side and into the net. You’re standing alongside everyone else, your hands cupped around your mouth as you yell in excitement. It’s not often that you see such a well done shot from a college team.
The boil of the crowd’s blood dies down a bit as the game continues, but soars back up whenever something particularly exciting happens. In the third quarter, the Hawks manage to land a goal on your team, but Yuta comes in clutch a few minutes later and scores two easy goals almost one after the other. The final score is deeply satisfying at 3:1.
The opposing team try to be good sports about it, but they’re obviously sulking when they shake your team’s hands. After they break away, they’re all gloriously sweaty, which you’re sure Sowon is excited about. Some of the spectators immediately rush out of the stands and make their way down, friends and significant others of the players, you presume. Part of you wants to go down there and be a part of the excitement. Luckily enough, a distraction comes in the form of some of your other neighbors before you’re forced to make any decisions.
“Hey, Yein, Sowon, Y/N!”
When you turn, you see Johnny and Doyoung approaching. Yein stiffens slightly and you nearly start laughing at your friend’s embarrassed behavior. Sowon greets them first. “Hi, guys.”
“I didn’t know you guys were into soccer?” Johnny asks, his eyes shifting easily from Sowon to you to Yein, where they remain.
“Not really! But Y/N wanted to go today.” In her nervousness, Yein easily exposes you.
“I wasn’t the only one who wanted to go,” you huff, crossing your arms. Doyoung and Johnny exchange a look that makes you want to change the subject. “I guess you guys are here to support some friends?”
“Yup, Yuta, Kun, and Jaehyun,” Doyoung says, looking towards the field, where some of their other friends are already gathered around the star player. “They played really well. It’ll be a good season.”
“I hope so,” Sowon says, also watching.
“Well, we don’t want to keep you guys from them,” you say, wanting to eject yourself from the conversation before it turns in a different direction. To your displeasure, Johnny is a master of knowing exactly what you don’t want and then doing it anyways. You’ve never really talked to him before, but it seems that he’s similar to Yuta in that way.
“Why don’t we all go say hi?” The tall boy says, grinning. “You guys can tell me how those cookies were, too.”
There is no escape. Now, as you follow them down the bleachers, you reflect Yein in a way. She no longer looks quite as nervous, eagerly chatting with Johnny, while you grow increasingly more fidgety. It’s not that you don’t want to talk to Yuta. You just don’t want to give in to whatever game the two of you silently decided you were playing.
Then again, it is much more fun to play along than it is to outright reject him. Plus, today’s actual game was good. You’ll give him that.
Trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, you join the small crowd surrounding Yuta. If you thought he glowed normally, he absolutely shines now. There’s something about him being in his element at the very top of his game that makes you forget your irritation with him for a moment. In that instant, he’s a star. In that instant, he reminds you of your brother. Then, he spots you and opens his mouth.
“Y/N!” As he calls out to you, the girl he was talking to before you arrived seems perturbed, but he ignores her, pushing his way closer to you. “You actually came.”
You turn your nose up at him slightly. “No one ever said it was for you.”
“Of course not. You and I both know the truth, though.” The wink is nowhere near subtle or sly and you scoff at him. He seems unbothered. “This was your first Lions game, right? Did you enjoy it?”
You nod hesitantly. “I heard you guys were good, but I didn’t know how good. You played a near perfect game.”
The self-satisfied smile drops from his face. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“What do you mean?” Tilting your head, you match his somewhat grim face.
“There’s always better plays to make, better places to have been. You know.” He quickly tries to play it off like he’s uninterested rather than deeply bothered. You’re not sure you know what the truth is. You haven’t talked to him nearly enough to know. This is the first hint of something serious that he’s shown you. It almost makes you want to talk to him more to find out.
“Dude, shut up, you’re good.” From the side, Johnny butts in, elbowing his friend. You’re glad for the interruption, as you once again didn’t know what to say. The mood raises, with some of Yuta’s friends reenacting the best parts of the game, joking about his long hair, betting on what next week’s game will look like. A few minutes later, the Lions’ coach shouts for all of the team members to go shower and get changed, so the crowd slowly disperses.
After you’re alone with your roommates, Sowon and Yein can’t help but give you playful shoves as you walk home. Sowon is the first to verbalize her amusement. “I thought you hated him?”
You grumble under your breath, not saying anything in particular.
“You played a near perfect game.” Yein mimics, making your face burn.
“I do not sound like that! Also, I know a good game when I see one and I know when to admit it!” You kick your shoe against the pavement as they giggle at you.
From then on, it seems like you run into Yuta far too often for your own good. Every few days, you bump into him when you’re either about to go run or when you’re coming back from running. When you go with Yein to return Johnny’s cookie container, Yuta is in his apartment, lounging on the sofa and chatting with Jungwoo, your third volleyball neighbor. Once, when you’re studying at the school library because you need a change of scenery from your apartment, he runs into you. That time, you snap at him.
“Are you stalking me or something?”
He places a hand over his heart, pretending to be offended. “What do you mean? If anything you’re the one stalking me. I come here every Thursday after practice to study.” He huffs. “If you’re talking about when I was in Johnny’s apartment, I was already there before you even arrived. Unless you’re accusing me of being psychic, too.”
Your shoulders slowly lower at the guilt you feel. Cringing slightly, you raise your hands in apology. “I didn’t mean to imply…” You sigh. “Sorry. Can I buy you a coffee or something to apologize?”
Only after Yuta’s mock hurt shifts to a triumphant look do you realize the implications of your words. You’re really on a roll with implications today. He grins. “If you really want to.”
As you pack up your things, Yuta tells the few teammates he had come to study with that he’s going, and you walk out of the library side by side. Luckily, he actually makes for easy conversation and good company. You don’t know why he insists on the flirting and cockiness in your shorter interactions. As you walk to the campus coffee shop, you learn that he’s a studio art major. He learns that you’re a physical therapy major. You learn that he’s taking a statistics class that you had already previously taken - he put it off while you got it done in your first year - and, without thinking, you offer to help him if he needs it. After you order both of your coffees, finding out that he likes a lighter roast, you sit at a table in the shop with him. Silence comes and goes as both of you do some of the studying that you intended to do at the library. Every so often, he asks you a question. Usually, you answer him. You always return with a question of your own. You find out that his favorite of the bands that he used to blast through the floor is One Ok Rock.
“Sorry,” he finally says, appearing genuinely remorseful with the sheepish look on his face, “I didn’t have upstairs neighbors last year. I didn’t know you could hear it through the floor.”
“It’s fine. Sorry I snapped at you back then.”
It’s very strange to be on perfectly good terms with Nakamoto Yuta.
A few days later, when your brother sends you a ticket for the local professional soccer team, the Ravens, you almost feel like you should ask for a second so you can bring Yuta. Figuring it would be too much to ask, you plan to go by yourself, thankful that the game falls on a day the Lions aren’t playing. Plus, you can’t imagine what your roommates would say if you chose to go out of your way to take him with you.
You’ve taken to hanging out with the long-haired center forward, helping him with his math when he needs it and just… generally enjoying his company. That doesn’t mean you’re all sugar and smiles to him - it’s much more fun to mess around a little, make him think that you don’t like him quite as much as you actually do. The only thing you can think of that would personally offend him would be to say you’re going to one of his games and then failing to do so.
On the bus ride over to the stadium where the Ravens are playing, you’re thankful that you don’t recognize anyone from your school. You’re in the team’s colors, silver and forest green, and it would be clear to anyone where you’re going. Only after you get off of the bus do you realize just how many came to watch. The stadium is full, packed to almost capacity. That’s probably why your brother hadn’t gotten you tickets earlier - all of them were taken. He probably gave tickets to the earlier games to your parents. They would have thrown a fit if he had only invited you earlier, even if you are his favorite.
As you make your way to your seat, you remark on how strange it is to see your last name printed on the backs of the shirts of a bunch of strangers. The vibe of the crowd is completely different from that at your school’s field. While college students are excitable and energetic, these spectators are rabid. At any moment, there’s one hundred people yelling, someone trying to start a chant, someone screaming just for the sake of it. The air is buzzing with the anticipation of the crowd.
There’s a moment of sudden thick silence, like the moment before a dam is about to burst, where the crowd is silent. Then, both teams are stepping out onto the field and the stadium explodes. In the middle of the line of the eleven Ravens players, like he’s trying to blend in even though half of the crowd is chanting his name, is your brother. There’s a coin flip and it’s decided that the Ravens will start. He gets into his position, forward center, and the audience takes another breath.
You’re on the edge of your seat. Half of the game you’re standing. There’s a thrill about the experience that makes you so invigorated and proud beyond belief. If it had been strange seeing your last name on the backs of fans’ jerseys, it’s just as weird hearing the announcer say your brother’s name as he scores. If Yuta had been residual starshine, your brother is a shot of pure gold. He has long given up trying to make himself small where he glows the brightest, smiling as the whistle is blown for halftime. His teammates slap each other on the back when they go for water. Just as the game is about to resume, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket once. You figure that whoever is texting you can wait.
The other team makes a comeback in the second half, scoring on the Ravens and tying the score. You feel a bit bad for the goalie, a guy you know as Kim Yongsuk, who your brother had introduced you to in the past. He’s probably beating himself up over it. Still, the team doesn’t falter, doesn’t repeat their mistakes. It’s a hard game - from how close you are, you can almost see everyone breathing hard. Finally, with just a few minutes left to spare, the ball travels smoothly from the Ravens’ defensive line, to the midfielders, to the offense. Once it’s in your brother’s possession, it’s over. He shoots and he scores.
To be fair to the other team, they try to recover, but it’s just not enough. Time is called and it ends 2:1. The Ravens have won. You find yourself clapping and cheering with the other fans, shouting your elation to the huge stadium. As things begin to wind down and the teams shake hands, people begin to trickle out of the stadium. A satisfied hum is in the air, leaving a smile on your face, too. Perhaps soccer games are the reason you like parties, too. The warm, excited atmosphere, the noise, forgetting about the outside world to become absorbed in something else.
Finally, reality calls again after all of the players filter out to their respective locker rooms. You pull out your phone, about to send a text to your brother. However, when your phone comes to life, the first thing you see is a text from Yuta.
NaYu: Are you at the Ravens game??
An instant later, right on cue, you hear his voice. “Y/N!” Upon looking up, he’s bounding down the aisles towards you, also donning forest green and silver. Watching him weave through the rest of the people trying to leave, you wouldn’t be surprised if he would have slid down the railing if there weren’t other people there. Nonetheless, it doesn’t take long for him to reach you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Why not?” You tilt your head, smiling slightly. You’re in too good of a mood to outright lie to him.
He blinks. “I thought you hated watching soccer.”
You hold your hands behind your back, swaying playfully. For once, he’s the confused one. “I don’t know what gave you that impression. I really enjoy seeing the Ravens play.”
“But… you said…” He furrows his eyebrows. “Didn’t you say you’ve seen enough soccer games to last your whole life already, or something?”
“I changed my mind.” Your phone buzzes in your hand.
B/N: You still in the stands? I’m coming up.
At that, you freeze. Yuta nudges you. “You okay?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” You’ve kept the fact that your brother is the Ravens’ star striker away from everyone, besides your roommates, and you can’t even begin to imagine how Yuta would react if he found how. What would he think of you? “You can head out without me, Yuta. I’m waiting for someone.”
The concerned expression doesn’t leave his face. “Are you sure? It’s kind of late-”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine, I’m-”
“Y/N!”
You turn just in time to see your brother jumping the gate blocking off the entrance to the field from the stands. Most of the stadium has cleared out by now, ushered out by staff, leaving very few people. Your brother has a hoodie on with his team’s colors, the hood up and partially blocking his face from distant onlookers nonetheless. You cringe internally as he jogs up to you, not seeming tired at all, and you greet him as he engulfs you in a warm hug. “Hi, B/N.”
“I’m glad you could make it. It’s not often that I get to play for my favorite sibling.” You’re looking at your brother, but you’re sure that Yuta has a shocked look on his face as he connects the dots. Now that your brother has directly stated who he is to you, there’s no avoiding it. He looks past you and realizes that you’re not alone. “Who’s this?”
“I…” Now that you’re actually looking at Yuta, you realize he’s entirely starstruck. He looks like he’s stuck in one place, his eyes wider than normal and full of awe.
You take over for him. “This is Yuta. He’s my friend from school and our team’s center forward.”
“It’s nice to meet you, I’m B/N! Since Y/N finally decided to show her face at her own team’s games, I heard you guys are doing well this year. Go Lions!” He raises a fist, giving Yuta a sunny smile.
Yuta blinks hard, looking almost like he might pass out. “Y-yeah. We’re doing alright, I guess. Thank you for your support.” He reflexively dips into a shallow bow, making your brother chuckle.
“You don’t have to be so formal. Any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of mine.” He elbows you not-so-gently. “Y/N! Tell me next time you want to bring him. I’ll throw in a second ticket.”
Yuta unfreezes a bit and looks at you. “You don’t bring Yein or Sowon?”
You shrug. “I don’t like to bring only one of them. It feels unfair to the other.”
“Still, I’m glad to see that you’re not lying about having at least one friend.” Your brother gives you a wicked grin and heat fills your cheeks.
“I have friends!” You insist, clenching your fists at your side.
“Do you?” Yuta teases, making you press your lips together in a look of indignation.
Before you can counter him, your brother interjects. “I hate to part with the two of you, but I have to leave.” He steps back, waving a hand at the two of you. “See you!”
“I hope you stub your toe on the way out!” You shout back at him as he retreats.
“Hey, this toe is worth a lot of money! Love you, too!”
There’s a period of silence as you watch your brother disappear. Yuta clears his throat. “Do you want to go back?”
“Yeah.” You follow him wordlessly for a while, making your way out of the stadium. He walks by your side, his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t seem upset, just a bit shocked still. As you approach the bus stop, you finally speak up. “Did you come with anyone else?”
“Some of the guys from the team. I told them to go ahead without me so I could talk to you.” Of all the things he’s ever said, that makes your heart feel strange. A tiny flutter of a butterfly’s wings, if you will.
Then, as you make it to the bus shelter, you turn to him, grabbing onto the edge of his sleeve. “Yuta, promise you won’t be weird after this?”
He blinks, not fighting your grip. “Why would I be weird?”
“Just… I don’t really tell people about my brother. I don’t want you to think any differently about me because of it.” This level of vulnerability isn’t something you usually show and it feels foreign, unfamiliar. When you told Sowon and Yein about it, it didn’t feel this way. Yet, standing under the shelter with Yuta, his deep green sleeve in your hand, his eyes on yours, the light of the city falling faintly on your faces, you feel your heart pound even harder in your chest.
“I already liked you before I ever knew that.” He reaches up oh so slowly. You don’t know what he’s going to do. Touch your cheek, pat your head, kiss you? Before you can find out, the bus pulls up with a loud exhale, spewing exhaust. The doors open and the driver looks at you expectantly as you turn and get in. Yuta follows you, silent. Both of you pay your dues and sit down, side by side, his sleeve brushing yours.
You know exactly what it is about him that drives you insane. At the same time, you have no idea. While you don’t want things to be different with him after tonight, you also desperately wish for the opposite. You’re tempted to slap yourself in the face to try and wake yourself up from whatever strange dream you’re happening, but you don’t know how the boy next to you would react.
The ride passes excruciatingly slowly, as does the short walk back to your complex. Finally, as you’re standing in the stairwell, about to part ways with him, he speaks. “Do you want to study together tomorrow?”
At that, such a normal suggestion, you smile. “Sure.”
He reflects your expression. It’s a familiar look on him, which you’re grateful for. “I’ll text you. Goodnight, Y/N.”
The next day is entirely ordinary. It’s like the previous night never happened. Yuta is perfectly normal, perfectly flirty, perfectly infuriating. In fact, the entire week after is normal. You go to the Lions game, cheer on your neighbors, and pretend to be difficult with Yuta after the game. He’s always so hard on himself after his games, remarking on what he believes are the many things he could have done differently to play a better game, despite scoring all of the team’s goals and securing wins every time. You hope that you talking to him afterwards raises his spirits just as much as you enjoy it.
Then, one Saturday, you’re out running when Yuta jogs up to you. Once again, he scares the shit out of you, making you nearly trip. “Hey, Y/N.”
You tear out your headphones, giving him a look. “Have you tried not jumpscaring me?”
The shrug he gives you looks strange, as he’s jogging slowly next to you when he attempts to emote. “It’s kind of funny.” You grumble under breath about showing him what’s funny, and he continues. “Do you want to run together on the weekends?”
“This again?” You say, frowning.
He rolls his eyes. “Listen, I know you’re lonely. Since you come out to my games, I thought I should do you some sort of favor in return.”
“I also help you with your statistics homework.”
“Anyways, you’re in luck because I also don’t have a running partner. It’s a lot easier to set a pace and keep moving if you have someone with you.”
You know he’s right, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. When you’re running, you’re at your most vulnerable - sweaty, tired, out of your element. There’s plenty of reasons you shouldn’t want him to run with you. “You have to run so much faster than I do. I would just slow you down.”
“Not really,” he says, looking at your feet as you jog next to him, “see? We’re both doing fine right now.”
You realize that he’s right. You keep moving wordlessly for a minute, until you speak quietly. “Would you really not mind?”
You focus on his hair bouncing as he takes each step for a while before you look at his face. In the morning sunlight, he gives you a pure smile. “Not at all.”
On Saturdays and Sundays, he’s waiting for you just outside of the complex at seven in the morning with his hair tied up to keep it out of his eyes. He easily matches his pace to yours. He’s always much more awake at that hour than you are, but the quiet encouragement he whispers whenever you slow down help perk you up. It takes you a little while to realize that he’s doing something very similar for you to what you do for him after his games.
It’s a cloudy Sunday morning. Usually, you don’t talk a ton while you’re running together, but it seems that his curiosity has gotten the best of him. “What made you want to start running?”
“Hm?” You hum, snapped out of the world that was just your feet thudding against the ground and the sound of your breathing in your ears. “Do I have to have a reason?”
“People usually don’t just randomly start doing it. Maybe they want to get stronger or lose weight. Maybe they want to impress someone.”
“It’s not about impressing anyone. I’m doing this for me.” You say it firmly, confidently. His pace stutters and he watches you continue forward. There’s something in your voice that makes him incapable of moving, and all he can do is stare at you for a moment, his heart speeding up in his chest for reasons other than the running you’re doing. When you realize he isn’t following, you turn towards him, jogging in place. The way your face is illuminated by the sunlight being cast upon it makes him sure he’s never met someone as incredible as you before in his life. “Are you coming?”
You don’t know what’s up with him. His expression is something you’ve never seen but can’t quite place. He catches up in a few bounds and you resume your run.
The next Friday, you receive a strange text.
Unknown Number: Hey, is this Y/N?
You contemplate whether or not you should respond, but you get a second text.
Unknown Number: This is Mingyu from physics
Now, that’s strange. You start to type out a reply.
Y/N: Hi! What’s up?
Kim Mingyu: I was wondering if you could help me with the lab report from last Friday? I’m having some trouble
Y/N: Sure, do you want to meet in the library later?
Meeting up with someone who you’ve never really talked to before is strange. Mingyu tries to joke with you, but something about them falls flat. You try your best to laugh and help him anyways, figuring it’s just stiffness from interacting with someone new. Though it’s nice to finally have a physics buddy, you’re almost relieved when you go home.
As you approach your complex, you see a small group formed on the lawn outside. Sicheng and Ten are standing on one leg, holding the other leg up and trying to knock each other down. A small smile comes to your face when you realize that Yuta is in the group, cheering for his friends. Around the same time you see him, he sees you and his eyes light up. He’s quickly getting to his feet and bounding towards you. Taeyong calls after him with a frown. “Yuta, you’re next!”
Still, he sidles up next to you as you walk closer to the circle. “Y/N! Where are you coming from?”
“Just the library. Actually, I was meeting up with one of your teammates, Mingyu. We were working on physics.”
The smile he wears twitches downwards for a moment. “I didn’t know you had a class with him.”
“It wasn’t worth mentioning. I never talked to him before today.” You shrug, shifting the backpack on your shoulders. “What are you guys doing?”
“One-legged fight. You should join.” He suddenly has a sadistic gleam in his eye and you take a tiny step away from him.
“And give you an excuse to push me on the ground? No thanks.”
“Aw, Y/N, I’m hurt. You don’t think I would just push you if I really wanted to?” At his proclamation, you shake your head, trying to force down a smile but failing miserably. “I’m kidding, of course. I would never.”
It’s almost sunset and he looks glorious in the golden light, the sun reflecting off of his dark hair and making his eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheekbones. If you were bolder, you might say something about it. Instead, you let out a snort of laughter, looking away from him. From the circle a few yards away, cheers erupt. Ten is curled on the ground, dramatically bemoaning his loss to Sicheng, who stands proudly over him. Taking that as his cue, Yuta gives you a small wave and rejoins his group.
When you enter your apartment with a small, content smile on your face, Yein looks up from her cooking. “Good day?”
“You could say that.”
The next morning, thankfully, is a Saturday. Yuta is waiting for you, looking just as fine in the morning sun as he did in the evening rays. He’s stretching as you approach him. “It looks like it’ll be good weather for the match today.”
“It better be.” He says it lightheartedly, but you can really imagine him threatening the weather. He’s told you that he hates the rain, partly because it makes it unpleasant to play but also just because it dampens his mood. The team is lucky they’ve gotten good weather for the season so far.
As you’re running, you remember what something you needed to ask Yuta about. “Hey, are you free on Wednesday night? My brother offered me two tickets for his game.”
His eyes light up. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah?” You tilt your head, trying to keep your pace steady. “He said he would pull through, so he did. You made a good impression on him.”
“I am totally free. Completely. Did I tell you how free I am that day?” The child-like excitement in his voice makes you smile in return.
“Wow, with how not free you are, I guess I should invite someone else,” you tease and he lets out an uncharacteristic whine.
“Y/N, I know you’re messing with me, but if you take someone else after asking me, I will never forgive you.”
Now it’s your turn to pretend to be offended. “I see how much our friendship means to you, Mr. Nakamoto.”
He sighs dramatically, bringing a hand to his forehead as he acts like he’s going to faint. “You’re so serious.”
You stick out your tongue at him. “You’re such a fanboy.”
“I can’t help it. Your brother is just so cool. I don’t know how you don’t try to hang out with him literally all the time.”
That gives you pause. You feel your feet connect with the earth repeatedly for a minute, thinking about your brother and your complicated but not complicated relationship. You trust Yuta with so many things, so you may as well tell him. “A few weeks ago, when I said I was only doing this for me, I lied. Just a little.” You say, not looking at him. You’ve never really admitted it out loud before. “I want to get good enough to run with my brother. I almost never see him these days, but if I can start getting up to run with him sometimes… it’ll be like when we were kids. Or something. I don’t know.”
“He’s important enough to you that you want to change something about your life to spend more time with him,” Yuta says quietly, keeping pace with you. “I hope he knows how much you care about him.”
“You don’t always need to change to show you love someone. That’s why it was only partly a lie when I said I’m only doing this for myself.” You flash Yuta a smile, which he returns. Though your lungs burn and your legs ache, the air you breathe in is cool and fresh. “I’ll race you back.”
His eyes flash. “Challenge accepted.”
The next time you see Yuta is later that day, at his game. He’s serious, as usual, in the zone. As the season goes on, the bleachers fill up more and more with students eager to see the Lions throw sparks. The games continually get harder, but they manage to clutch this one out with a final score of 3:2.
Despite the win, Yuta still seems somewhat down. Afterwards, you’re about to go up to him to describe the glorious moment when he slid between two of the opponent defenders and scored, but you’re stopped by a heavy hand on your shoulder.
“Hey, Y/N.” To your surprise, Mingyu is the one approaching you. He doesn’t take his hand away.
“Oh! Mingyu, hi.” You try to smile at him, but your eyes wander over to Yuta briefly. “Good game today! You guys played solidly.”
“Ha, thanks. Could’ve been better on my part, I’m always looking to improve, you know.”
“I get it,” you respond, nodding.
“Are you possibly free on Wednesday night? We have a lab due on Friday and I just think it would be easier to do if we can work together, ya know?”
“Oh, um, I’m actually busy then.” You force yourself to not look at Yuta. “Does Thursday night work instead?”
“Sure, whatever. I’ll see you then.” The way he squeezes your shoulder once before stepping away to talk to some of his own friends makes your stomach turn. Why is he being so… weird?
Shaking your head, you turn back to who you had intended to greet in the first place, only to find that he had been looking at you already. What’s with the look in his eyes? Why is everyone being so weird? Ignoring the feeling, you join his circle. Yuta moves closer to your side, his arm looping around your waist as he does so, pulling you in slightly. The touch is brief but intimate, sending a bolt of electricity through your body. You swear that you can almost feel the heat of his skin through your clothes. Then, his arm is back at his side like nothing happened. You want to speak up, say what you were planning on saying before, get your mind back on a normal track, but you find that Johnny, Ten, and Jungwoo are already recreating the scene, making Yuta smile through the veil of whatever emotions he’s experiencing right now.
When the entire team heads over to the locker rooms to clean off the shine of sweat and dirt that had been accumulated through the game, you can’t help watching him. As he goes, you catch flashes of his smile while he congratulates his teammates. Something stirs in your heart.
That night, you dream of healing smiles dressed in a lion’s mane of black hair. That same visage is waiting for you the next morning when you go out to run but, here outside of your head, he’s solid, real, more than heated touches and soft caresses. At the same time, he is those things. Or, so you wish him to be.
When you study with him the next night, he is as he usually is, theoretically. Sometimes it feels like his eyes linger longer than usual, his hand rests a little closer, he smiles a little wider. It’s nothing you can confirm because, to any normal gaze, he seems entirely the same. Perhaps you’re confusing yourself into imagining things. Has his flirtatious nature finally tricked your brain into thinking he likes you?
Sometime that evening, you go to the bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror. You pat your face rather harshly to try and drive some sense back into your brain. You should tell him. This new boy who has become so close to you. Why are you afraid of it going wrong? You emerge from the bathroom with the same feelings that you entered it with and, there he is, looking up at your return.
The next day, Tuesday is a brief reprieve from the torture of trying to figure out his feelings through his actions. Then, your brother’s game comes. Your chatter fills the space between you on the bus ride to the stadium, him telling you about the anime he’s watching, you talking about the drama you’re watching in response. He jokes about culturing you by getting you to watch a show with him.
Watching your brother’s game with Yuta at your side is an entirely different experience. While you think you normally have pretty good commentary on your own, he provides an extra edge, excitedly explaining why some players choose to do some things or making observations about small moves that you ordinarily wouldn’t notice. Both of you absorb the atmosphere of the stadium, bursting into cheers whenever something incredible happens, screaming extra loud when your brother scores.
During halftime, when the roar of the audience is less deafening, you realize that you’ve never asked Yuta about his background with soccer before. You nudge him. “Hey, Yuta? How long have you been playing?”
He taps his chin, trying to think back. “Probably since I was five?”
“No wonder you know so much,” you say, “I’m talking to an expert right now.”
“You know too much for just a casual viewer,” he says back, snorting, “don’t tell me you don’t have some experience.”
“I only played a bit when I was younger, but I wasn’t any good. It was always more fun to watch B/N. I ended up just taking care of him whenever he pulled something or fell and scraped his arm… you know.” A wistful smile forms on your face. “It started off as just kissing bruises like my mom would, but then it turned into intense Googling whenever I couldn’t immediately figure out what was wrong with him.”
“Maybe you can kiss my boo-boos whenever I get hurt, too, then.” He’s smirking, the ever-familiar gleam of mischief in his gaze.
You force yourself to roll your eyes at him, ignoring the feeling of your heart jumping in your chest. “You’d better not get hurt, Nakamoto.”
“Only because you asked so nicely.”
A few minutes later, the game resumes. This matchup is considerably more difficult than the game you had attended before. Each time the Ravens seem like they’re close to scoring, the opponent defense sends it back towards your end of the field or the goalie successfully blocks it. All the same, your defense and goalie do their jobs, too, leading to a brutal back and forth. By the time the game is over, the only goal that had been scored was the single one your brother got in the first half.
“Ah, that was tense. They almost took it back there for a second.” You stand, stretching your arms behind your back to loosen them up a bit. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, sure.” Yuta gets up as well, following you as you begin to climb the stairs. “Is your brother not coming to see you this time?”
“He told me he has some press deal after this.” Once you’re in a more open area, Yuta walks next to you instead of behind. You can now see that he’s frowning.
“Does he keep you a secret on purpose?”
“I asked him to.”
“I can’t imagine keeping someone like you hidden like that.” At that strange comment, you stop, looking at him. He seems to be taking the issue very personally.
“It’s easier this way. No one prying into my life, no one asking me for autographs from him all the time. People know who our parents are. What’s so important about an unknown sister?” Is there something else he wants you to say? The look on his face is something you’ve only seen maybe once or twice. He’s in a strange mood, that’s for sure.
“I get it, it’s just…” He sighs, looking at the ground with his hands shoved in his pockets.
“Yuta.” He finally meets your eyes. “It’s important to me that what people think about me is what I show them first. I don’t want to be a reflection of my brother, no matter how much I love him.”
“Is he the reason you didn’t want to talk to me at first?” There’s amusement in Yuta’s voice again, that strange seriousness gone.
You start to walk again and he keeps pace. “No, that was just because you woke me up at six in the morning.”
“I guess both of us have experiences that precede our reputations then, huh?”
The bus comes not much later. The previous reminder of how you met has him offering you one side of his earbuds, saying that this would be a better introduction to J-rock than the one you had before. As you listen, you’re tempted to lean your head against his shoulder or take his hand, which is resting oh so close to yours. Instead, you just sit still and look out the window.
After you get off of the bus, the topic of shows you both like makes a return.
“I will take it upon myself to expose you to great art. Are you free tomorrow? We have to start immediately.” Yuta begins to pester you, practically bouncing as you walk.
“Actually, I’m busy tomorrow. I’m working on physics with Mingyu again.” He doesn’t initially not react to your first statement. However, when his teammate’s name comes out of your mouth, he frowns.
“Of anyone…” The sudden change in his attitude catches you off guard. “Why him?”
“I don’t choose who’s in my classes. What’s wrong with you? I thought you got along with your teammates.” You’re nearing your complex at this point. The lamp posts bordering the sidewalk cast long shadows on the ground as you walk.
“In a team context, they’re fine. Usually. Just, that guy…” He’s scowling now, making you frown deeply in return.
“What about him?”
“I don’t know, Y/N.” He pauses, but then his feet stop moving a moment later. “Fuck it, I do know. He’s not a good person. He’s a manipulator. He’s a good manipulator, but he’s bad at lying when you actually confront him-”
“Yuta, you’re being ridiculous. Even if he is, I’m strong enough to take care of myself.”
“Y/N, he was with me at that first game! The one where I found out about your brother? What if he saw? He’s the type to use information like that to get what he wants. What if he-”
“What if he what, Yuta?” You glare at him, anger muddled with some other hurt now filling you. “He hasn’t done anything. He isn’t going to do anything. Our ‘secret’ isn’t going to get out. I can take care of myself.”
With that, you brush past him, into the complex, into your apartment. Thankfully, your roommates aren’t in the common area, so you safely make it to your room. Once you’re there, you shove your face into your pillow. You consider screaming into it, but you know he’s probably in his own room, where he could hear you. Instead, you just heave breath after frustrated breath.
You don’t know why you snapped at him. Actually, you do. It’s the fear that he’s actually doing what he accused Mingyu of. After every word you’ve exchanged, every conversation, you should be confident that he’s not like that. But, you’ve never been in this situation before. What if he…
It’s a stupid notion and you know it. That’s just the surface. Another layer of your feelings peels away. You hate when people are too protective of you. You want to make your own decisions, to learn for yourself. You hate when your brother is too protective of you and you hate when Yuta is.
That’s not even all of it. Finally, you reach the root of your aggression. What right does Nakamoto Yuta have to try and be protective of you when you aren’t even together? Was that the concern of a friend or the concern of a jealous lover?
You curl in on yourself even more tightly, breathing through the pillow under your face. No one has ever flirted with you as much as he has. You’ve never been so ridiculously on and off with someone before. Still, neither of you are willing to answer the question.
You’ve never actually fought like this with him before.
Perhaps he hates you now that you’ve thrown his warnings back in his face.
The next day, after your classes, you force yourself to go to the library to meet Mingyu, Yuta’s words heavy in your mind. As you work, you can tell he’s still trying desperately to get on your good side, even emanating Yuta in a strange, off-balance way. It’s not amusing when he does it.
Finally, the subject you’ve been dreading comes.
“Are you a fan of the Ravens? I think I saw you at one of their games once.”
You swallow back disappointment. Mingyu is the worst fear of your insecure self and you finally have to come face to face with it. “I guess you could say that.”
To your surprise, he doesn’t take it farther than that. If Yuta’s right about him, then it’s probably just one piece of a larger goal. Though you never cared much for Mingyu, it doesn’t feel good to see things begin to unfold.
Not seeing him for two days in a row brings your mood down more than you’d like to admit. At the same time, you’re not ready to apologize yet. You don’t know what exactly is happening on his end, you never know, so when you go outside to run at your normal time on Saturday, you half expect him to be there.
He isn’t. And you don’t run into him on your way back, either. The game it is, then.
As the day progresses, the sky gets increasingly cloudy. In the evening, when the Lions and their opponent team are out on the field running final drills, it’s easy enough to tell that a good number of people had looked at the forecast - the crowd in the bleachers is much thinner than usual. The sky could open up and pour its soul out onto all of you at any moment.
You don’t even bother pretending that you’re not watching Yuta. As he steps off the field for their usual pre-game pep talk and chant, you swear he makes eye contact with you. Normally, he wouldn’t even bother looking, because he’s usually confident that you’re there. You’re not sure what the look in his eyes is now.
The coin toss decides that the other team will start with the ball. That might have been the first omen about the game. Then again, maybe the other team is just… better. Their defense is at least tighter than yours. At halftime, they have a point up on the Lions, 0:1. Yuta seems to take this very, very personally. Within ten minutes of the game restarting, they tie the score back up.
At about three quarters of the way through, it begins to rain. The referee deems that they’ve played far to stop, so the match continues. Almost like they take the poor weather as a sign, the rival team scores nearly immediately after.
You pathetically huddle under a single umbrella with Sowon while Yein shares one with Johnny. The ball slips rather than flies around the field, back and forth, back and forth, until, finally, with barely any time to spare, it’s at Yuta’s feet. The world seems to move in slow motion, then. His right foot moves backwards. It swings forwards. He makes contact.
He misses.
You try not to gasp. Yuta himself seems to be in shock, with how he goes stiff for a moment. Then, he’s back in action, targeting where the goalie had thrown the ball. This time, it’s not enough. A minute later, after another brutal back and forth, the scream of the whistle soars above the sound of the rain. It’s over. The Lions have met their first loss of the season.
The two teams barely wait around to shake hands before they’re rushing off to the locker rooms, away from the rain. Yuta moves slower than the rest, seeming to drag his feet through the muddying grass. Ahead of him, all of his teammates are moving quickly, but moping nonetheless. From your position, you see Mingyu kick the shins of someone you recognize to be one of the younger players. You see Kun’s mouth move as he tells him off, but they’re far enough away and the rain is loud enough that you can’t hear. If you hadn’t been displeased already, you are now.
Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right?
“You guys can go back,” you say, taking a step out from under the umbrella after you’re out of the bleachers with your friends. When Sowon tries to shove her umbrella in your hands, you push it back. “I’ll be fine! It’s only a short distance.”
She narrows her eyes. “You’re going to catch a cold.”
“Don’t worry.” With a sigh, she turns, reluctantly walking back behind Yein and Johnny.
You take off running, trying to outpace the raindrops pelting you. By the time you make it beneath the slight sheltered roof of the locker room building, you’re damp, but not entirely soaked. It’s enough to be an annoyance, your clothes sticking slightly to your skin.
You wait outside for a good few minutes. Small groups of players from either team leave, the opponent players giving you strange looks as you lean against the wall and shiver, Baekho and his group giving you an awkward acknowledgement, and, finally, Mingyu emerges.
“Y/N?” He seems confused, but somewhat excited. As if you’re there to meet him.
“Mingyu. Answer one question for me.” You say it wearily, expressing it like the chore it is.
“What are you acting so weird for?” The excitement you glimpsed before dies.
“Were you going to use me to get in good with my brother?”
The rain is the only sound you hear for a couple solid heartbeats. “Y/N, listen…”
“He was right…” You grumble to yourself. You glare up at him. “You can do your physics labs by yourself. Delete my number.”
He stands before you for a moment more before he realizes that you’re serious. He turns and walks away, into the haze of the downpour. A minute later, Jaehyun and Kun emerge from the building.
“Oh, Y/N,” Jaehyun says, seeming surprised. “Are you waiting for Yuta?”
“Is it that obvious?”
The two of them exchange looks and smile. Kun speaks next. “He’s probably not coming out for a while. He usually gets all depressed when we lose a game, but I’ve never seen it this bad. He’s been standing in the shower for like fifteen minutes.”
You glance at the door. Jaehyun nudges you. “He’s the only one left in there. I wouldn’t tell anyone if you, say, went in right now.”
“A bonafide cupid right here,” Kun says, swinging the bag he has slung over his shoulder around so he can dig through it. He produces something, offering it to you. “Here.”
“What is…” You trail off as you take it from him, your face warming as you realize exactly what it is. “Kun, what is this?!”
“I don’t want any miniature versions of him running around. I’m always prepared.” You stare at Kun incredulously a beat longer before you shove the condom in your damp pocket.
“Good luck!” Jaehyun calls back to you as they begin to walk off, leaving you standing under the overhang. Taking a deep breath, you push open the door and walk inside.
Unsurprisingly, the place has a somewhat sweaty smell to it. The rows of lockers are labeled with names and a little image depicting the sport the owner plays, as all of the school’s teams use the same locker room, and the occasional miscellaneous socks, gloves, and other things are scattered about. A row of sinks is against one wall and past the sinks is an entrance into the shower area. You make your way there.
As you get closer, the distinct sound of one shower running gets louder. The only curtain that’s closed is a middle stall, all of the others open and empty. Parallel to the shower stalls is a long wooden bench.
“Yuta?” You call out. He doesn’t respond, so you try again. “Yuta?”
“Go away.” This time, the response is sharp and harsh. He certainly is in a mood.
“Yuta, it’s me.”
“Y/N?” His voice is significantly less negative now. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you.”
You can barely hear him sigh over the sound of the shower running. “You couldn’t wait until after I was done?”
“No.” When you say that, the water shuts off. A hand sneaks out to grab the towel hanging from a hook affixed to the partition between the stalls. You don’t see anything revealing, but you look away anyways. The scraping of the rings being drawn back tells you he has emerged from the stall.
“You can look at me, you know.”
“I didn’t want to be rude.” You look back, greeted with the sight of his gloriously wet hair and bare torso. He emerged quickly enough that he didn’t have time to dry much of the water dripping off of him. The only part of his body that’s covered is his waist and thighs, though the towel still reveals a tantalizing v-line. You forcibly swallow your thirst.
“Blatantly checking me out again? I get it, but would it kill you to be less obvious?” The comment throws you back to a simpler time, when you were just irritated with him for his cockiness and blasting music through the floor.
“Speak for yourself.” You cross your arms. It was obvious enough that he was enjoying the sight of you in a wet t-shirt and shorts.
“Why didn’t you wear something warmer?” He says, frowning. He steps closer, leaving little space between you.
“I didn’t think it would cool down this much.” You look away, not able to face his bare chest quite yet. The room still has a certain steam about it from the hot shower he was taking that makes it a little harder to breathe. Then again, maybe that’s just him being mostly naked in front of you. He reaches out, touching the hem of your shirt.
“You’re soaked,” he says, rubbing your shirt between his thumb and index finger.
“You’re just making me wetter.” Your face burns something fierce as you say it, contrasting the chill that had settled over your skin from standing outside. “You would think you’d dry yourself off more before getting out of the shower.”
“I was just eager to see you, I guess.” You finally have the courage to meet his eyes again.
“I missed you this morning.” You almost pout while saying it, feeling small under his gaze. It’s not an uncomfortable smallness, but one that makes you feel closer to him.
“I figured you didn’t want to see me.” He reaches out, brushing his fingers softly over the side of your face. His touch is blissfully warm. “Or, I think that you did want to see me, but you would only be angrier if I showed up.”
The thought almost makes you laugh. It would be one of the few times he’s been wrong about your feelings. But, if he always knows so much… “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I talked to Mingyu a few minutes ago and you were right. I should have trusted you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t let you handle it on your own.” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. “You’re strong enough to deal with assholes like him. You don’t need me.”
“I might not need you, but I do want to keep you around.” The small confession has your bottom lip quivering. “Did I mess up your game today?”
“It was mostly the rain.” He sounds so nonchalant, but you can tell he’s still bothered. “Not you. But, if you do feel bad about it, Miss Physical Therapy, there is something you can do for me.”
His eyes have shifted away from their darkness into a different sort of moodiness. You step closer. “What is it?”
He moves back, taking a heavy seat on the bench. “I’m quite tense. Give me a massage.” His eyes bore into yours. “If you so choose.”
You step behind him. The thrill of what you feel like he’s implying thrums in your veins. The muscles of his shoulders and back are hard under your fingers, showing years of training and toning. You’re almost surprised at how well built his upper body is for a soccer player. His skin is beyond perfect too, and the little droplets of water from his steamy shower that settle on his skin glisten temptingly in the low light of the locker room.
“Sorry my hands are cold,” you practically whisper.
“It’s fine. Feels nice.” He wasn’t lying when he said he was tense - you can feel the knots leaving his muscles as you press down on them, dissolving into smooth flesh that’s soft to the touch. As you work along his back, one particularly tough knot has your thumbs pressing harder into him, drawing a low groan and a curse from his throat. “Fuck.”
The sound turns you on more than you’d like to admit. As you finish his back, you become even more hyper aware of the little noises he’s letting out, the space between you becoming noticeably warmer. Slowly, reluctantly, your hands leave his skin and you circle back towards his front, not quite wanting to look him in the eye. “Is that better?”
“Much.” The air feels heavy. “But you’re not done, yet.” Ordinarily, he’d be smirking so hard you’d be able to hear it in his voice, but there’s only a low command to his tone now. He reaches out, guiding your dominant hand forward so that it’s resting on the front of his shoulder. There’s no hiding from his eyes now. You decide then - if you’re going to do this, you might as well go all out. Sliding onto his lap, your knees pressing into the wooden bench on either side of him, makes you feel both powerful and small at the same time. His face is only a breath away from your own. You swear you can see his eyes flicker to your lips. Trying to play innocent, despite the fact that you can basically feel his dick hardening under his thin towel, you shift slightly, putting your focus on his shoulder and pectoral muscles. Every so often, you readjust yourself, purposefully bouncing slightly on his lap, almost grinding down on him. He doesn’t crack, remaining still and keeping his expression flat. The only signs he gives of being aroused are the slight shiver to his breath and the prominent bulge you’re now certain you can feel. That, and the hands he has on your body, one on your hip and one on your thigh, fixing you in place.
The process is slow, arduous, but you eventually finish with his pectoral and shoulder muscles. You pull your hands away, placing them in your lap and then sitting back, unmoving on his lap, reveling in the way you’ve very clearly made him feel. “Is that all?”
His eyes flicker down to your lips again before boring into your own. “You missed one spot.” Wordlessly, he reaches up, tapping his own lips.
You could walk away right now. His hands aren’t so tight on your body that you couldn’t just get up and leave, go back to your apartment and forget this ever happened. But why would you want to? You’ve been dreaming of his lips for weeks. Finally, you’re about to get a taste. Still, there’s an edge of apprehension digging slightly in your gut.
You’ve sat in silence for long enough that he’s opening his mouth, an apology about to leave his lips, when you swoop forward, pressing your lips to his.
Where he had given you the choice to initiate, he’s the one who really leads. He almost instantly deepens the kiss, dragging you even farther up his lap, pressing you hard against his barely-shielded dick. You feel his fingertips against your skin, under the hem of your top.
“Do you want this?”
“Yes, but-” Where his hands had stilled under your shirt they begin to move again. “Yuta, wait.” He freezes once more, looking up at you. If you didn’t know better, you could swear you see a little bit of fear in his eyes. A shaky breath leaves your lips. “I won’t fuck you unless you tell me you actually have feelings for me. Did you mean what you said back then? After the games?”
“Is that a requirement for all the guys you sleep with or am I special?” You can feel his cock throbbing under you and your own insides ache in response. Of course, he’s delaying what both of you want by being coy. The frustration building up in your gut and in your heart makes you feel like you’re going insane.
“Yuta…” You mean it to sound admonishing, but your tone is more akin to a whine as you lightly drag your nails down his chest. His breath stutters slightly in his lungs at the motion, but in that moment, a sort of gentleness you’ve rarely seen takes over his facade.
“You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” he breathes out, eyes locked with yours, “how could I not have feelings for you?”
You kiss him, sweetly, desperately. His hands begin to move once more, his fingertips digging ever so slightly into your skin. When his hands make it to the edge of your shirt, giving you a suggestion, you cover them with your own, guiding him to take it off. As soon as the garment is out of the way, his lips are on your neck, your collar, the soft skin of your chest. He can feel the hum of your voice through your breast as you speak. “I really like you, Yuta. More than I’ve ever liked anyone else.”
His fingers nimbly unclasp your bra and it falls to the ground somewhere. As his touch ghosts over your breasts, you arch into his hand, drawing a warm chuckle from him. “That’s good,” he says, thumbing slow circles over your nipples, “because I feel the same way about you.”
You pull him back to your mouth, pulling him as close as you possibly can, breathing him like he’s air, tasting him like he’s food. His tongue is slick against your bottom lip, against your own tongue. Almost unconsciously, you rock your hips against his bulge as you move. Impatiently, he tugs at your shorts, pulling you out of the kiss.
“These have to come off.”
“It would kill you to go slow for once,” you laugh, getting off of his lap on shaky legs.
“I go slow for you all the time,” he responds, shifting the towel at his waist, which you realize is barely holding onto him from all the grinding you were doing on his lap, “I’ve been going slow for months now. Isn’t it time to speed things up?”
You roll your eyes, but shimmy out of your shorts, leaving you in your panties and him in his towel. From this angle, he can truly appreciate you. Every curve, every beauty mark, every fold and crease on your body. He leans back, his hands bracing him against the bench. Then, he shifts forward abruptly, taking the opportunity to snap the elastic of your underwear against your skin.
“Yuta!” The cry is half an admonition, half a laugh. You move to push his shoulder gently and he catches you by the hand, pulling you on top of him and kissing you once again. Before you realize it, he has a sneaky hand slipping into your panties, touching you where you’re most sensitive, making you jolt against his hand.
“Is this okay?” He murmurs the words against your lips and you nod, trying to focus on kissing him through the pleasure of his fingers. It’s been far too long since anyone has touched you like this and you’re not used to it.
“Mm,” you moan back, “more than okay.”
He had said he wanted to go faster, but it seems like he’s just going so slow, making you fall apart on his hand, first with just a thumb on your clit, then two fingers pushed more deeply inside of you than you could ever reach yourself. At some point, you’re no longer kissing him and your cheek is pressed to his instead. You nip at his ear, which you now realize is pierced, and the damp spikeyness of his hair rests against your temple.
His free hand rests over your breast, rhythmically squeezing it as you ride his fingers. Oddly enough, you feel like he predicts your climax before even you do, working you carefully through the release of pleasure as you shudder against him and clench around his fingers. Before you can fully regain your senses, he’s kissing you again and removing his hand, wiping his sticky digits against the towel slipping from his waist. You figure you’ll finish the job, reaching down to untwist the cloth so that it falls open against the bench.
You continue kissing him as you take his dick in your hand, your thumb sliding over the precum beading at his tip. It’s his turn to shiver, his cock twitching in your hand. Giving it slow, purposeful jerks, you watch him become perfectly uncomposed under you and you grin, leaning closer to press a kiss to the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He’s stiff, but remarkably soft to the touch, veiny and thick enough that your mouth waters. A couple minutes pass before he’s encasing your hand in his own, slowing your movement.
“I don’t want to come in your hand.” You stop, looking at him with faux-innocent eyes. He blinks desperately at you. “Please.”
“Can I suck you off later?” The words leave your mouth unexpectedly. You hadn’t even really been thinking about the later, but you figure you’re safe to assume that there will be one.
“Of course, pretty girl.” He strokes your hair and you can just think about him holding it back in the future as he-
Trying to distract yourself from the later and focus on the now, you slide off of his lap once again. He almost seems confused, made lonelier by the tiniest distance you put between the two of you. It’s almost a funny image, him half pouting at you while his dick is out, standing up against his abdomen and completely exposed. You let out the smallest exhale of a laugh. “You showed me yours, so I figured I would show you mine.” Your panties fall to the ground, where you kick them in the general direction of the rest of your clothes. The sight of your shorts reminds you of another important thing. “Oh! Also!”
You scramble over to them, reaching into the pocket and producing the little foil packet. Yuta stares at you. “You’re… prepared? I didn’t even think this far ahead and half the time my brain is controlled by my-”
“Kun gave it to me before I came in here,” you say, waltzing back over to him. He takes the packet from your hand, tearing it open. You… give him a hand as he rolls it on. “He’s awfully ready for a great many situations, isn’t he?”
“I think he was expecting this to happen a lot earlier than it actually did, honestly,” Yuta responds, pulling you back on top of him for the third time. Once again, your knees rest on the hard wood bench. “Can we not talk about my roommate, please?”
“I can agree to that.” You smile, kissing him. “Can we talk about how much I like you instead?”
“We can always talk about that,” he says, one hand on his dick, one on your hip, “are you ready?”
The mood dips, making your body shiver in anticipation again. “Yes.”
The way he positions his cock and begins to push into you makes both of you let out noises of relief, a groan from him and a sigh from you. You sink down onto him further until he’s fully sheathed inside of you, hard and pulsing and ungodly warm. He gives an experimental buck of his hips, pulling a moan from your lips and shaping his into a cocky smirk. “Already feel that good?”
“Shut up,” the complaint dies in your throat as you lift yourself up on your knees and sink back down again, bouncing on his lap slightly. You focus on the feeling of him inside of you, the sensation of him hitting your G-spot, the touch of his fingers on your clit again. His breath mingles with yours whenever he takes a break from kissing you. Your hands wander the smooth planes of his chest, your thumb briefly ghosting over his nipple, your palms getting sweatier as you hold onto him. It’s not long before you let your head fall back, your thighs tense as you hold onto his shoulders and move up and down on top of his cock.
His lips are hot as he mouths your neck. You’re not usually the type for marking, but, honestly, the thought of wearing his hickey on your skin sounds beyond appealing. He introduces the slightest bit of teeth, grazing them over your pulse as you ride him. The trail of tiny nips goes down past your collarbones to your breast. Your heart beats loudly in your ears and the desperation of chasing your orgasm makes the passage of time feel fuzzy, but in the sweet, bubbly way a soda does rather than the heavy, blurry way a cold would.
“Yuta,” you whine, the knocking of your legs against the bench growing painful, “can you…”
“I got you, baby.” With a grunt, he stands, lifting you by the thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close. A breath later, your back is pressed to the wall and he’s pushing into you once again. The new angle is a change, and it’s a good change. Every one of his thrusts hits exactly right, pushing you further and further until-
“Yuta, you’re gonna make me...” you pant against his mouth, breathing the same air as him. At some point, after he had picked you up, you had reconnected your lips, and he swallows the little noises you let out hungrily. You clench and unclench your fists behind his back, as your arms are slung over his shoulders.
“Mm, good. That’s my girl.”
All you can think as he pounds into you is Yuta, Yuta, Yuta. You come undone with a final swipe of his thumb and a choked cry of his name. Once your own orgasm has stopped burning quite so bright, lowering to a comfortable simmer in your gut, his hips slow with each thrust until he pushes into you and stays there. You can feel him throb inside of you even through the condom.
Your skin feels like it’s glowing in the aftermath of his love, warm like coals after a fire has just ceased to burn. Warm with the promise of more flames in the future. You lean your face in the junction of his shoulder and neck, breathing love onto his skin. His deep, uneven breaths slow over time as he presses gentle kisses to the exposed flesh of your shoulder. The silence between you is only interrupted by the ambient sound of water flowing through pipes hidden in the concrete walls of the shower part of the locker room. That’s enough of a reminder for you to groan, clutching onto him tighter. “I can’t believe we just confessed and fucked in your sweaty locker room.”
“From my perspective, it’s more ‘wow, I can’t believe we finally confessed and fucked, even if it was in my sweaty locker room.’” That, at the very least, makes you smile. Slowly, he begins to pull out, separating from you with a sticky, wet sound. He backs up, turning so that he can place you gently on the towel still lying on the bench. He disposes of the used rubber quickly, throwing it in a trash can at one end of the room.
Now that he’s no longer touching you, it feels so much colder. “I feel bad for whoever has to clean this place. I hope they don’t find that.”
He shrugs. “I’m sure they’ve seen worse.” He makes his way back to you, naked body still on full, glorious display for your eyes only. “Wanna shower while we’re here?”
You groan. “Yuta, I’m tired. No funny business.”
“Who said anything about any ‘funny business?’ I just suggested we clean off the sweat from all that physical exertion.” He’s smirking, not even pretending to be innocent.
“You’re insatiable.” Still you get up, joining him in the shower stall that he holds open for you. If any follow up activity happens while you’re in there, the only way anyone on the outside would be able to tell would be from the quiet sounds that are mostly drowned out by the noise of the shower.
As you finally redress, accepting the hoodie that Yuta had in his locker so that you don’t have to put your wet shirt back on, he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you, like he’s afraid you’ll go away. The environment between you feels different, but the same. After you’re both fully dressed and start walking out the door, you reach out to take his hand. He accepts the action, interlocking his fingers with yours. Both of you stop under the overhang of the building. By now, the sun has set and a few street lights shine along the walkways of the campus through the haze of rain. “Yuta, are you my boyfriend?”
He blinks a couple times. “Wasn’t that implied?”
You turn away, suddenly shy. “I mean… I just… wanted to clarify…”
“You’re too good for me.” He laughs, then kisses your cheek. Both of you stare out of the rain, as if it’s going to suddenly stop just because you’re politely waiting for it. “I meant it. Every time.”
“Hm?”
“Every time I said I liked you, or that you’re amazing. I was just afraid of- I don’t know. That I’m not honest enough or nice enough, or even good enough at soccer. I just-” He seems so tired as he says it, so brutally truthful, so terribly self-doubting.
You squeeze his hand. “Yuta, it’s okay. Honestly, all this time, I thought you’re too good for me. You’re so much more than the things you say you are. You’re a star.”
“I’m not. I can be an asshole, and jealous, and not serious even when I should be-”
“Yuta, if you like me despite all of my ridiculous bad qualities, I’m pretty sure I can deal with a little jealousy. You’ve shown me who you are and I still like you. You’re loyal and funny and romantic and so many other things. I like you.”
He sighs sweetly, like he was holding in a breath for so long and is finally letting it out. He’s holding your hand so tightly, it feels like he might never let go. Right now, you think you might be okay with that. “Sorry. I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”
You peer into others’ eyes for a long time, content to just look. Then, the cold finally gets to your legs and you shiver, scooching slightly closer to him. You look out. The rain isn’t getting any better. “Do you want to run? To make up for us not going together this morning?”
He doesn’t even respond. He just glances at you, winks, and tugs at your hand, starting to go. The rain pelts you as you go, utterly soaking you, getting in your shoes, darkening your borrowed hoodie. His hair sticks to his forehead, making him look a bit like a wet kitten. Maybe a lion, more accurately. Still, in the passing lights and the sheen of the rain, he glows.
“Yuta?” You say between shallow breaths.
“Yeah?” He keeps going, keeps tugging you along. You have to work to keep up with him, pumping your legs hard.
“Do you want to go professional?”
He looks back at you quickly, but then turns forward. “I would.”
“I really think you could do it!”
Then he’s laughing, truly, mirthfully. “That’s the second best thing you’ve said to me today!”
At that, you’re laughing too, though it slows your pace, though it makes your lungs burn, though it helps rain water run into your mouth. When you make it to your complex, soaked through, looking like you just took a swim in your clothes, you don’t want to let go. Reluctantly, both of you part ways to change clothes in your respective apartments with the promise to meet soon and start Yuta’s effort to culture you with anime.
Sowon and Yein tease you relentlessly, both when you enter your apartment leaving puddles on the ground and when you leave again ten minutes later completely dry. They tease you for the next week whenever they catch you leaving if they know you don’t have classes. The next Friday, you end up staying up far too late watching one of Yuta’s shows, which you admit are at the very least fun, and you fall asleep in his bed. You’re sure you’ll never hear the end of it from your roommates, even if Yein has been staying in the volleyball boys’ apartment every other day for the last month.
In the morning, a mere three hours after you and Yuta went to sleep, you wake up in his arms to a strange blaring of J-rock. He reaches over you to slap his phone and shut it off. You stay awake just long enough to comment on how strange it is hearing the music next to you and not through the floor.
When you wake up around noon to Yuta staring at you, his bangs half covering his eyes, you flip over, checking the time so that he can’t see the absolutely embarrassed look on your face. “You’re so weird.”
“Why are you being all shy? I’ve seen you naked. There’s nothing more to see.”
“There’s plenty more of me to see, thank you very much, Nakamoto Yuta.”
“I know there is, darling.” His arm is still slung over your torso like it was when the alarm went off and he tries to wrestle you back around to face him. You squirm in his hold.
“Darling? You’re so weird. Why are you so weird?”
“Weird? I thought I was romantic and funny and-”
“And weird!” You wiggle more until he flips you onto your back, straddles you, and pins your hands to the bed. It’s quite an incredible sight, him pinning you down with his raven hair a complete mess and no shirt, where you can faintly see marks that you may or may not have left on his chest earlier in the week. “No fair. Home ground advantage.”
He leans in, looking ever so charming despite his disheveled appearance. “You know what makes for great morning exercise?”
“You’re weird and a horndog and-”
“Running! Let’s go.” He suddenly rises up, taking one of your hands with him and pulling you into a sitting position.
“Yuta, it’s noon! There are going to be people out everywhere.” He tugs on your hand and you move so that you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. “And it’s Saturday, so there’s going to be even more people…”
“You don’t need to worry about people judging you. If anyone gives you any funny looks, I’ll-”
“You’ll what? Punt a soccer ball at their heads?” You’re standing now, looking at him uncertainly.
He shrugs. “Sure. But, seriously. I promise that you have nothing to be self conscious about. You also have me. That part most importantly.” You would smack him if the smile he gives you doesn’t have you reluctantly agreeing.
He’s right, of course. The run is completely fine. At least, you’re distracted enough by your boyfriend for it to be fine. When you return, you split off to take showers in your apartments. After you emerge from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around your body, you find him waiting in your room. You register him saying something about the tables turning and “great afternoon exercise” before he practically pounces on you.
Afterwards, through your sex-high haze, you hear a loud knocking on your front door. Groaning, you move only so much as to press your face into Yuta’s shoulder. “Don’t wanna get up…”
“Did I make you feel that good?” His voice is a warm rumble, teasing, though full of the same tiredness that yours has. You’re about to jab him lightly in the side when his hand shifts down, two of his fingers running through your folds. Shivering at the suggestion, you wiggle closer to him, hiding your face even more.
“Let me rest, you sex-fiend.” Before he can reply, there’s a few more insistent knocks at your door. “Ugh…”
“Were you expecting someone?” You shake your head against him. He reaches over and grabs your phone. “I heard this going off earlier while we were busy.” You make no move to take it from him, so he turns it on, his eyes scanning the recent chain of texts you’d just received. “It’s your brother.”
You immediately bolt straight up. “What?” Your mind ticks back to the previous day before you’re scrambling out of bed. “Shit, shit, shit, I forgot he was coming today!” As quickly as you can, you try to throw on the various items of clothing that had gotten scattered around the room in your - Yuta’s, more accurately - haste to move them off of the bed, where you had laid them out for after your shower.
Yuta stretches lazily. “Glad I could remind you.”
“Asshole, get clothes on! He’ll kill you if he figures out what we did!”
“Ah, to be killed by L/N B/N. You say ‘what we did’ like it’s a bad thing.”
“He’s my older brother, for God’s sake!” You throw a shirt at him, smacking him in the face. “He will murder you! If he doesn’t murder me for forgetting our plans first…”
“And your plans are?” He slips his arms through the sleeves of his shirt, slipping it on.
“I’m taking him to see your game. Maybe meet the team. Who knows? You won’t be able to see it if you don’t move your ass.” You finish putting your jeans on.
“I’ve never escaped through a window before, but it sounds fun.” He’s still smirking, clearly amused. You’re certain he would actually do that if you let him.
“On second thought, just stay here. I won’t let him into my room.” Your phone lights up with your brother’s face and number and starts to buzz. You pick it up. “Sorry, I’m coming! I was napping.” You hang up. “Please, Yuta?”
He steps into his own jeans. “That’s what I was planning on. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to incapacitate myself before the game.”
With that reassurance, you close the door to your room and head for the apartment door. Your brother, clad in a hat, hoodie, and jeans, weirdly normal for him, is standing in front of your door, his phone in his hand. He narrows his eyes. “Hi, Y/N. For a second there, I really thought you forgot about our plans. Who takes a nap on a Saturday afternoon?”
You step aside, letting him in. “I was just tired today for some reason. Sorry.”
“You’re lucky you’re my favorite.” He walks in, sliding off his shoes next to yours. “Are your roommates home? It’s been a while since I’ve seen them.”
“No, but they’ll be at the game later. You won’t miss them.” You stand there, swaying somewhat awkwardly. You’re sure that he’s noticed that you’re acting strangely. “Who let you into the lower doors?”
Your brother steps inside casually. “Your neighbor Jaehyun. Nice kid.”
“Y-Yeah. He’s one of our midfielders.”
“I guess I’ll get to see him in action soon, then. Where near here is good for something quick? We only have an hour and a half until the game.”
You’re thankful for a change in subject. “Depends what you want to eat! Think about it while I run to the bathroom?”
As you head there, you glance at your closed door. You feel kind of bad for leaving him in there, but it’s for his own protection. When you get back to the door, your brother is in the same place, staring at the shoes around the entry. He points at a pair of men’s shoes, which you realize with dawning horror are Yuta’s.
“Y/N? Whose shoes are these?”
“Oh! Those are, um, Johnny’s. Yein’s boyfriend.”
He deadpans. “Johnny. Your neighbor. The one who lives right across from you. Who is dating your roommate who isn’t here right now.” When you don’t respond, he sighs. “Y/N, it would be a lot easier to lie to me if you didn’t tell me so much in the first place. Who’s in your room? I know you hate closing your door if you’re not sleeping.”
Reluctantly, you walk to your room, cursing observant soccer players. Yuta looks mildly surprised to see you, and you walk over to where he’s sitting on your bed, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him over to your brother. If he’s afraid of your brother, he doesn’t show it.
“Yuta, was it?” He’s still expressionless. “I’ll have you know that there’s a few rules.” Before Yuta can even ask about the rules, he’s launching into a detailed explanation about consequences, saying something about maiming and making it look like an accident.
“B/N, you’re a professional now. You should really try not to say such scary stuff. Also,” you say, frowning, “I can handle myself. You know that by now.”
Yuta breaks his silence. “She really can. She’s strong enough to deal with anything.”
“You really believe that?” Your brother’s gaze is unyielding.
“I do.”
“Well, then.” He suddenly lightens up, smiling at the two of you. “Want to join us for dinner? I’m thinking noodles.”
“I actually have to get to warm-ups soon…” Yuta says regretfully.
“That’s a good boy. See, Y/N, I trust your judgement. We best be off, then.” Abruptly, your brother turns, putting his shoes back on. You scramble to join him, grabbing your things and putting your own shoes on.
“I’ll see you later?” You say to Yuta, who’s simply staring, somewhat shell shocked that he survived the encounter.
He blinks, then gives you a sort of smirk. “How about a kiss for-”
“Don’t push it.” Your brother cuts him off, standing in the doorway. He starts down the stairs. When he’s not looking, you lean over, pressing your lips to Yuta’s cheek. Before you can turn around, he sneaks one of his own onto your lips. You run after your brother.
He thoroughly grills you about Yuta during dinner, but you don’t mind. You keep out the parts about sex and the specifics of the relationship coming to fruition and he seems satisfied. You barely make it to the game in time because of your brother’s interrogation, but you still get there early enough to see some of the drills. In work mode, he crosses his arms, making approving comments about Yuta’s footwork. Your boyfriend is in a similar mood, already focused in.
Then, the game starts. The other team starts with the ball, but it makes no difference. The Lions take it back, sending it back and forth across the field, gaining and losing it, until Yuta, as usual, scores, redeeming himself from the previous week. Your brother says something under his breath about potential and skill. Through the game, the Lions make great plays and you find yourself cheering for all of them, even Mingyu. The rival team stands no chance - not for lack of skill, but simply because your team is determined. By the end of the game, the score is a solid 3:0.
You’re one of the first onto the field after the teams break away from shaking hands. You meet Yuta in the middle, jumping on him in a hug when you reach him. You can’t stop the outpouring of praise, telling him how well he played, how brilliant he was. He just laughs, telling you he did his best. It’s the most positive thing you’ve heard from him after a game.
When you let go of him, willing to let the rest of his friends surround him now, you step away in search of your brother. To your surprise, he’s chatting up the Lions’ coach, who seems somewhat flustered by the Ravens’ striker speaking to him. Before you can get close, the coach blows the whistle he has around his neck, getting the attention of everyone around him, but particularly the team.
“Boys! Gather round, we have someone here with something to say to you.”
It doesn’t take long for them to recognize who your brother is.
It’s funny seeing the team rush to your brother, some pretending to be cool, some openly fawning over him. But, there’s one person who isn’t looking at him. From across the mob forming around your brother, you make eye contact with Yuta. And, in the midst of the stars shining in the form of the Raven, the Lion’s light falls on you.
#yuta smut#yuta fluff#nct smut#nct fluff#neowritingsnet#nct angst#yuta angst#nct one shot#yuta one shot#nct fanfic#nct fanfiction#yuta imagine#nct imagine#yuta fanfiction#yuta fanfic#sports collab#i hope everyone enjoys this :)#apologies for lateness#wonjaekook
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BNHA 314, Lady Nagant and war crimes, the take of history nerd.
This text will contain a discussion of war crimes, human experimentation, and genocide. Please, if you find such topics uncomfortable and upsetting, don't read.
When I was twelve years old, I visited what remains of the Auschwitz-Birkenau death camp complexes in Oświecim, Poland. I heard about the utter torture people of various nations had to go through. I walked through the cells in which people were starved. I saw names long gone written upon the thousand of thousands of luggage left behind. I saw shoes, belonging to men, women, and children alike. I saw where those alive slept, the pits in which you wouldn't hold a dog, much less a human. I saw the walls against which people were slaughtered.
I looked at what remains of the endless list of names of people who died to the Third Reich's death machine.
Arbeit macht frei, says the slogan atop of the gates, Work sets you free.
Our guide told us the nazis used to smile and add, Durch Krematorium Nummer drei. Through the Crematorium Number three.
The Auschwitz Museum is not all of the testimony of the pain the people suffered under Nazi Germany, but it's the symbol. I can talk much more about it, about the horror of living in Nazi-occupied Poland, about the terror the Jews come through, about the evil residing in the hearts of men but I can never describe it all. You can't really describe the horror of those times.
During the Nuremberg Trial, the war criminals responsible for it all, one after another, claimed they did it all because they were told to.
This argument didn't hold.
In 1942 Erwin Rommel, the Desert Fox, was ordered to execute the war prisoners in Africa. Supposedly, he burned Hitler's orders. Nothing happened to him. He was never punished by the nazi regime for disobeying their leader.
Most of the war criminals on the Nuremberg Trial were sentenced to death. Society decided that the excuse of being ordered to do something meant nothing.
The year is 2021. The leaks of the BNHA 314 chapter are out. I feel... complicated.
I did it because I was ordered to.
It could mean nothing. Just coincidence, right?
But.
The name of the character who said it is mocking me. Lady Nagant is badass; she is the female villain character I was waiting for. She is powerful, she is interesting, she has such potential.
But.
Her name.
People pointed it up already. Rifle Mosin-Nagant, one most famously used by both Simo Häyhä, the White Death, and Lyudmila Pavlichenko, the Lady Death. It seems so badass and cool at the first glance but I always felt somewhat iffy about it. She is named after a weapon, and yes, a weapon is not responsible for committing the crimes, it's always the people.
But for me, this weapon screams the Soviet Union and they didn't use it only in wars. Soviets committed unspeakable crimes, the ones for which they were never punished. They slaughtered people, they starved people, they committed genocide. Soviet Regime was not better than the nazis.
Deportations. Massacres. Gulags. All of it is not as widely discussed but I always felt there was a good, macabre example of how cruel they could be.
There is a book in Polish I read for my literature classes, The Another World by Gustaw Herling-Grudzieński. It talks about the author's memories of living in a Soviet gulag, in starvation and cold, working in inhuman conditions. What heinous crime did he commit to ending up on the end of the world?
You see, Mr. Herling-Grudzieński was wearing the army's boots. And yeah, his name sounded somewhat German. That's all. Only those boots and last name for years of painful labor, starvation, and death.
Am reaching with all of it? Probably. But emotions are not logical. It feels wrong for me to call a character after a weapon that committed genocide but maybe it's just me. After all, I know I'm biased, I was listening to all those things since I was a little girl.
I just don't like the connotation of Lady Nagant's name and those words. Even more, because we see people threatening her while something like that never happened in reality. Are we supposed to feel sorry for her? Are we supposed to forgive her and Hawks?
And that, for me goes further: Are we supposed to forgive war criminals now because of orders? Is that what he is trying to say? What is your manga about now, Mr. Horikoshi?
Because I can't. I will not. Too many people suffered because of them. Too many people died.
My thinking does sound like reaching and overinterpretation, but then, I remember the last straw of it all, something I really can't forgive because of how malicious it felt.
When Ujiko's real name was revealed as Maruta Shiga in reference to the human experimentation on the Chinese civilian population by Imperial Division 731, I didn't understand what exactly it means. I don't speak Japanese. But then, oh, god, I learned.
Japanese war crimes, compared to those committed by nazis, are controversial topics. Most of them were swept under the rug by the politics of that time. I wish I could not judge those people for the choices they made. I wish I could say I'm not utterly disgusted by how the perpetrators of those crimes were never truly punished. I can't. Like said, I'm very biased about the subject, I feel strongly about all of it.
I'm not Chinese, though, I can't even imagine how they feel about all of it.
I never learned about what the Japanese did in school, I had to uncover the depravity of Imperial Japan myself. Is it wrong? Absolutely yes. Does the educational system suck? Yes. The thing is, people just try and try to keep those heinous crimes under this stupid rug and I'm ashamed of that, I'm ashamed of myself, and most of all, I'm ashamed of what Horikoshi did as a human being.
I learned that the only country in which nazi is treated as a hero in China. Why? Because even he was so disgusted by what the Japanese did. Because he actually tried to protect the Chinese people.
A nazi.
What does it say?
What did the Imperial Division 731 did, though? Human experimentation, as I mentioned earlier. They infected people with viruses, they tested flamethrowers and weapons on them, they poisoned people, they vivisected humans. They were not better than their western allies, nazis which people are so afraid to speak of.
What happened to them? They exchanged their freedom and lives for the results of their experiments. They were never punished.
I'm going to be cruel: Horikoshi and all of the Jump deserved the backlash they got, their apologies mean nothing. How the hell they let it through in the first place? How the fuck all those editors, all of the staff, saw it and nobody cared? Nobody thought oh, that's a bad idea, let's change it? If they didn't know, it doesn't help either! It only confirms the stereotype of Japanese people not knowing and not caring about the crimes they committed.
Hot take: In some way, calling him that is just as bad as if he was named after Mengele.
All of the people who suffered under the Japanese regime deserved better than being a footnote, a simple reference in Japanese manga of all things. Those were the people we are talking about, for fuck's sake, people who went through hell and never saw justice.
That's... my take on all of it.
All of my words are pretty emotional but the subject is very emotional; it's hard not to feel in such a way when you know what happened. The sheer lack of respect BNHA holds toward the people who suffered through those awful things is astounding.
I always had problems with BNHA, okay? I disagreed about a lot of things Horikoshi did, but I always kept quiet, not wanting to speak up because there were some things I loved.
But it makes me so angry, how the author does things like that. If they did it one time, it could be an accident. Two times would be dangerous. But three? Three creates a habit.
Please, stop that, Mr. Horikoshi.
Your manga is about heroes and their corrupted society. It's action shounen, not a dark story about the war which still haunts people. It's not about our rotten world and making all of those references is disrespectful toward the victims. Stop playing with history like that.
TLDR; Soviets bad. Nazis bad. Imperial Japan bad. Hori, stop this pls, and let me see Dabi already.
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YOUR CHARACTER IN FIVE QUOTES!
( repost, do not reblog. )
Tell us your favorite quotes from your character. Give us an idea of who they are by five things they’ve said.
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Alright, buckle up, I’m stealing this meme and repurposing it for my own use. Probably more than five, and including some quotes from others about him, though I’m going to try to keep it in groupings, and also not meant to be exhaustive of qrow’s character, but rather, to point out some very poignant lines that have effected my portrayal and... some possibly in an unpopular way compared to what I’ve seen in the fandom? I think Qrow Branwen is more complex than fitting the broody broken boi trope would give credit for (though he at least fits it as an overall stereotype).
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1) I’m absolutely sure Qrow had a rough start and transition from the tribe to ‘civilized society’, coupled with typical teenage hormones and mood swings, but generally, Beacon was a good time, and he sees himself as a good huntsman, and (though we may joke about it sometimes) he absolutely does not have an active nor passive death wish.
Yeah, yeah, I know he has a song all about how he self depreciates and carries shame, but that’s a theme of his attitude, not backed up to be every single aspect of his life by actual canon. Quite the contrary.
I don’t know where fndm gets the idea that he constantly lost his battles (especially to Raven) or was perpetually looked down on or stayed an angsty, broody teenager (who could never possibly have ever even breathed a single happy breath on his own without Summer??) all four years. As if school was hell and he never came into his own until STRQ was a graduated unit or something? If ever?
Leo tells Raven she and her brother are evenly matched. Raven herself - who takes pride in being stronger and more clever than others - describes them as a pair: “we were good.”
“you're talking to a member of the coolest team that graduated Beacon! ...we were pretty well known back in the day.
...hey, we looked good! and I have a number of inappropriate stories to back that up!”
“let me tell ya, these kids are way better than we were at their age. ...well, not better than me, specifically...”
“a professional huntsman like myself is expected to get results as soon as possible.”
The way Qrow talks about his past, as well as carrying a memento of team STRQ around with him, it’s very nostalgic for better times. The way he talks about his work, if not himself, can actually be to the point of being self-aggrandizing, instead of depreciating. He’s even able to admit that his dreaded semblance, Misfortune, “comes in handy in a fight.”
“lots of us thought you were just layin' low. eventually, we just came to accept that you were probably dead. but the stories about you, i based my weapon off of yours. i wanted to be as good as the Grimm Reaper.”
Qrow talks about himself as striving to be better. It seems he never really sees himself as reaching that standard, but it certainly implies he knows he’s not at the bottom - he had an ideal he wanted to reach and likely worked towards.
Notice the use of “us” and “we” as well - he talks about himself as part of a group of larger huntsfolk circles. Who knows if this refers to students or licensed professionals or both, but this heavily, heavily implies that he was more than just a sad, outside loner, at least for a time; he chatted with others and traded stories about goings-on and missions and idols.
Somewhat related and leading into...
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2) At least around this blog, Qrow does not have an inferiority complex because of Raven.
Does he have some internalized shame about being soft that he can’t quite shake? A few insecurities about being unwanted compared to her natural leadership and competence? Yes. Does he consciously view himself as lesser than her? No.
Also... he’s not co-dependent on her. To a degree, for while? Yeah, there was probably an unhealthy reliance going on there. But Qrow and Raven establish themselves with their own identities at some point, they’d have to, to chose different paths so stubbornly. There’s a rift there, eventually, if not always having been at odds in some ways and comfort in others.
“Raven's got an interesting way of looking at the world that I don't particularly agree with. [The weak die, the strong live. Those are the rules.]”
“...they were killers and thieves.”
We are shown that the twins were raised with this weak/strong dichotomy. Raven bought into it, but Qrow explicitly separates himself from that belief. Shown again when he mocks Raven with, “because that was your rule, right?”
He believes in true family, he believes in protecting the weak, he believes in doing good, he believes in standing up for what’s right. He may not like being emotionally vulnerable, but he shows softness and kindness to others, and for as much as he likes his flourish when fighting, he also isn’t afraid to look an absolute fool either.
He is shown de-escalating conflict time and again, even if he also falls back into violent, defensive patterns at times, too. He resents Raven for the choices she made, and as far as I interpret, thinks she’s the lesser one for running away and abandoning her family and her mission. (Meanwhile, she thinks the same of him for turning his back on the tribe.)
He all but spits on the tribe’s way of life, is willing to attack them outright to get the Spring Maiden. Why would he judge himself by those standards any longer? No, he lives by his own code, a huntsman’s code, and even has some pride in that. It’s why he can call Clover out on it. It’s why he folds when Robyn holds him to it.
It’s why it hurts when he finds out what gave him more meaning, aligned more with his own heart, than the tribe’s dogma may not actually have any purpose at all...
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3) There’s so much to unpack here:
“No one wanted me... I was cursed... I gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world... I thought I was finally doing some good...
Meeting you... was the worst luck of my life...”
No one wanted him? I believe this means the tribe, maybe even Raven, maybe trying to make friends, but no one until Oz? Does this include STRQ? I have trouble reconciling that one with everything else we’re shown. I still maintain he was part of bigger circles, but we get confirmation that these were probably fleeting or superficial. He knew people and was known, but no one stuck around.
Also more confirmation of his values. Gave me a place sounds like so much more than refocusing to me. It’s not gave me a direction, not told me what to do, it’s took who i am and gave that person a place to thrive - despite the bad that comes with - to work towards something better. Just like he always wanted.
But then he backtracks. What is it he regrets?
We do know how he likes to go into dramatic hyperbole about these things when he’s upset. [eg. “we’re not family anymore.” “i shouldn’t have come. i shouldn’t have let any of you come.” “we can kill the man who put us here.” “gone. like everybody else.”]
(I love that crwby lets their characters do it. we all say things we don’t mean in the moment, give voice to those intrusive thoughts.)
I’ve talked before about how I picture him having flashes of all the lives he could have had instead. Would he have gone back with Raven and at least still had her? Would he just have been a normal huntsman defending people from Grimm without the crushing extra knowledge? Might he have been able to have a relationship or family of his own had he not signed up for the vagabond spy life? Does he just resent losing Summer and Raven because of how things went down? We don’t know, and I think the point is that he probably doesn’t either, but the weight of sacrificing all those alternatives and putting so much faith in Ozpin, stacking so much of his life’s work and identity on being part of the inner circle, comes crashing down on him all at once.
also quite fitting...
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4) "Nice place to raise a family. ...If you're ...into that sort of thing."
This is from his World of Remnant narration, talking about Patch, but it hits so damn hard. The softness and warmth in the first half of the statement, followed by the harsh need to qualify it in regards to his own outlook... We learn all we need to know about his opinion of the subject.
We see the conflict right there - the possibility of such a thing brings a wholesome lilt to his voice, yet he implies that it’s not something he personally intends to pursue. Is that because he doesn’t want it or because he thinks he can’t or shouldn’t have it? I don’t think that’s clear, and he may not know either.
At the very least, I fall into the camp of him believing he doesn’t want it. Combine that with the fact that he does pick up that spy life, which makes keeping his distance a necessity, and makes settling down near impossible, and then he definitely knows it’s not in the cards for him.
So I think it ultimately falls somewhere between. Why would he make the commitment to being a lone spy if he had dreams of love and a family? ...But then why would he resent making the sacrifice of that possibility later if he didn’t?
Having his nieces around probably softened him up to the idea, but he’d already made his decision by that point. He’s also solid and generally happy with his choices at the point it would most matter. He’s married to his job. He’s fulfilling his missions well, in well-suited ways for his strengths and flaws. He has his nieces around as a balm on any sort of biological clock. He has his purpose with Oz.
Until he doesn’t.
This is an incredibly long-winded way of restating that one of the headcanon hills I do stand to die on is: Gray-romantic Qrow.
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5) “some people are just born unlucky... my semblance isn't like most - it's not exactly something i... do.”
I am constantly confused by the amount of people trying to do character analysis around Misfortune and Qrow based on standard semblance lore, when he has yet again stated explicitly to the contrary. We all have carte blanche ya’ll. We can do whatever we want with this, because he’s already told us his semblance breaks the rules.
My full headcanon for it is here
and my opinion about the direction I hope it takes is here
but tl;dr
Unless we learn otherwise, there are very, very few ways I believe Misfortune is a reflection of Qrow’s soul, if at all. This is from the first headcanon, but it’s worth restating, because it’s important to me, aaand fits the theme of pulling in some quotes from other characters:
Everyone likes to quote Ren and his description of someone’s personality being incorporated into a semblance. I don’t buy it for qrow. Here’s the FULL quote: “A common philosophy is that a warrior’s Semblance is a part of who they are. Some say your personality and character can define your Semblance while some claim that it is the other way around. Of course, there are still many who don’t see a connection at all.”
So unless we find out otherwise I will also die on the hill that qrow is an example of the middle part. Qrow’s personality/soul has nothing to do with why his semblance is what it is, but being forced to grow up and live with Misfortune has defined him tremendously.
OKAY, there are some smaller quick ones, but I’ll stick to my five points like I promised at least, and maybe do a lesser version some other time. :]
#qrow branwen#* legends and stories; some of them true; some made up = meta *#* hey don't get mad cause i'm right = headcanon *#long post tw
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handmaid - 01
PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader
WARNINGS: age gap, forced marriage
A/N: i’m so happy with the feedback i got for the last chapter, i’m glad you guys are excited about it!!! i hope you enjoy the first proper chapter. have fun xx
NEXT CHAPTER
ingenue: generally a girl or a young woman who is endearingly innocent.
Y/N was the first one to be up, as per usual. Ever since both her and Gwen were kids she would be the first one to wake up, around sunrise, so she could climb up the attic and sit on the roof of the old country house to watch the sun light the night sky. Today, however, things were slightly different. She could see the staff of the how rush from side to side, preparing Gwen’s luggage so she could properly move into her future husband’s house and Y/N with her.
Being a handmaid to the mob’s daughter was an archaic job, most of them had switched to bodyguards after the 50′s however the Forrest family did things the old way unlike other mob families. The leader of the family in particular, Michael Forrest, was one to follow tradition by a t, which was maybe why she had ended up growing up with Gwen instead of in an orphanage. Nevertheless, being a handmaid to Gwen was something that came naturally to her, specially when most of her job was being her portable consciousness. Y/N did not blame her for her reckless behaviour, specially when she had grew up in one of the most tight knitted mob families in all of New York. However, to Y/N, the day where Gwen finally had to move in with her fiancé always seemed ages away, something that probably wouldn’t happen, a day that would never arrive. Yet, here it was.
She sighed, watching as the sun peaked from the horizon, the warmth slowly wrapping itself around her being, wondering if she would be able to do this once she was in her new home. God, her new home. She didn’t know what it looked like but from comments coming from Gwen it was far different from the shielded country house in the outskirts of New York. No, the Stan family lived a cosmopolitan hedonistic lifestyle in the Upper East side of New York where everything and everyone bowed in fear when they passed by. Yet, somehow, the family was still shrouded in mystery, specially the new head of the family, Gwen’s husband to be. She didn’t know what he looked like but rumours said he was pretty good shape, with a handsome face tainted by a scratch scar from his first kill. However, Gwen said he looked like a stereotypical rich boy.
- Y/N, are you in there? - her lips twirled into a smile as she heard a very familiar voice. She climbed down the stairs down to the attic, hugging the man who was standing there. - Gwen guessed you’d be here.
- I thought you were in California. - she smiled at Dan, Gwen’s older brother and apparent future head of the family, despite various arguments from him. He had graduated a few years ago and moving to California along with his girlfriend Beth. Y/N had always seen him as more of a older brother as he had been the one to teach her to ride a bike and the one who took her to prom when no one else did. - It’s so nice to see you.
- Yeah, dad called about Gwen moving in with Sebastian Stan, thought I had to say goodbye.
- As if Gwen will settle down. - Y/N sighed. - Besides, your father always said change was the way for an exciting life.
- If you don’t wanna go, I can speak with my father, Y/N. The Stans have pretty good security, you don’t need to be keeping an eye on Gwen.
- That’s nice of you, Dan, but I owe it to your father. - she walked from the attic and down the stairs onto the upper floor of the house. Dan followed her into her room where most of her necessary belongings were packed into a duffel bag and a flower patterned suitcase. - Besides, he can’t possibly be that bad.
- I know dad and Gwen constantly shield you from what they do, but trust me, it is not the best thing for you to go with her. The Stans are standoffish, murderous family who silence anyone and everyone who disobeys them.
- You’re being overdramatic, Daniel. People aren’t that evil. - she patted his face jokingly.
- Y/N? - Gwen peaked into her room. - The chauffeur is here.
- I gotta go. - she kissed his cheek whilst grabbing the handle of her suitcase and swinging her duffel bag around her back.
Y/N followed Gwen down the hall and down the stairs, looking at the walls of the house she’d grown up in, a tinge of nostalgia hitting her as she walked outside the door. In front of the house was a limousine with blackened windows and a man dressed like an old-time driver, holding the passenger door open with a smile. This sight was different from Gwen’s regular chauffeur’s rolling his eyes whenever he saw the two girls coming.
The heiress entered first, followed by Y/N whose luggage was politely taken away and put in the car’s boot. Inside there was a very expensive bottle of champagne which Gwen was quick to pop open and pour herself a glass as the car took off. Soon enough, the familiar environment of the sheltered home was loss and they were driving right in the Upper East Side, surrounded by designer branded shops, people carrying enough jewelry to pay for a down payment on a medium sized house. It was far different from the outskirts she was used to and Y/N wasn’t sure if she was gonna enjoy it, specially when she saw the much more modern building they were being driven to.
Gwen, as per usual, was unfazed, almost as if she wasn’t about to be married in a few months to a man she clearly felt nothing for other than pure spite. They were let into the apartment complex, Y/N’s eyes going up to look at the futuristic design with no greenery to be seen in place. In front of the main apartment stood a valet dressed in a crisp suit straight out of a Paris runway, who tipped his cap as the car came to a halt.
- Miss Forrest, welcome. - the valet opened the door for her who slightly turned to step onto the perfectly straight and flaw free stone of the ground, removing her sunglasses to take a better look at the man. - I’m here to escort you to the penthouse.
- A penthouse ... original. - the heiress offered the man a fake smile who opened the main door for her while Y/N stepped away from the car too, silently taking the chauffeur. - Come on, Y/N.
Few people got to enter or even be close to Sebastian, even Gwen who had been promised to him had never been to his place and now that she was, she wasn’t impressed. The man looked to follow the stereotypical powerful man playbook, at least judging by her window based, modern approach when it came to his home. Y/N on the other way was somewhat enchanted by the level of luxury surrounding her. The lift itself was padded with dark velvet material, a slight mahogany smell constantly entering her senses. The ding signalled they had arrived and as the doors opened, she realised the level of luxury Mr. Stan lived in paled to that of Mr. Forrest. The walls were windows, giving the room a perfect view of the Upper East Side and natural lighting to the dark marble floors that shone the slightest whenever the light hit it just right.
- Miss Forrest, it’s a pleasure to welcome you to your new residence. - another man perfectly dressed in a suit, hands behind his back, took a slight bow. - I assume this is your handmaid.
- I’m Y/N. - she extended her arm, smile on her face to try and mask how nervous she was but the man kept his posture, not even acknowledging her hand.
- Mr. Stan is expecting you. - Y/N looked over to Gwen, expecting it to be directed towards the heiress but as the man placed his hand on the small of her back and started leading her away from Gwen, she started to panic. - Not to worry, miss, it’s standard procedure.
- Standard procedure? - they stopped walking once they reached a big dark brown wooded door with golden handles. He didn’t say anything else, instead the man knocked on the door before holding the handle, slightly twisting it and opening the door for a small inch.
Y/N could fell her heart beat on her throat, not entirely sure what awaited her behind that door. She knew the tales, she knew the stories, Dan had told her several times what his family was capable of, what he was capable of. She remembered being a young girl and hearing about it, muffled voices from Gwen’s father’s office, death threats. Now she was about to see him for the first and it felt wrong, it felt like she would be stripping the myth away from the man.
With her hand slightly trembling, she pushed the door open to its full capacity, her eyes meeting with a figure standing behind a wooden desk covered with various papers. However, it wasn’t the amount of paperwork in the sort of small desk that surprised her, it was the man behind it. Suddenly, all she could hear was a buzz in her ears and the nerves she had before were heightened.
- M...Mr. Stan? - Y/N didn’t expect to stutter, however, that had been how her voice came out. He raised his head, stunned at the woman standing in front of him and had to fight the smile that was wanting to creep onto his face.
The daylight allowed her to study his features better than the darkness of the club. Physically, he was extremely well built with a physic belonging to a stock hero character on the silver screen, with blue eyes and light skin tainted by a small scar on his left cheekbone.
- Take a seat, Miss ... - he stood up, pointing at one of the black velvet chairs facing his desk.
- Y/N. - she replied, shyly walking over to the desk and sitting on the cold leather which greatly contrasted with her warm skin. He looked at her like a predator to a prey, examining every single detail about her complexion and demeanour. His gaze alone made her feel as if she were naked in front of him. However all he could think about was how endearingly harmless she looked in an oversized pirate styled white blouse tucked over a high waisted leather and velvet black skirt and some scratched yet somehow polished black ballerina shoes. It was a far cry from the oversized heels and dress she had been wearing the prior night. He thought it suited her better. - I’m so incredibly sorry for last night, Mr. Stan.
- Sebastian. - he corrected her, putting down the paper work he had been looking at. - Am I correct to assume you’re Gwen’s handmaid?
- Yes, sir. - Sebastian bit his lip, listening to the innocent title that escaped her mouth in the most normal of ways. - I do understand it’s a bit odd, but Mr. Forrest requested I continued to keep Gwen company and make sure she’s alright.
- A bit of an outdated job but my fiancée said you were an non negotiable employee, therefore, I guess you’re part of my staff now. I hope it is not rude to discuss salary, I’m not entirely sure how much Mr. Forrest or Ms. Forrest pay you.
- Oh, I’m not paid. I don’t expect you to pay me either, Mr. S ... Sebastian. - she corrected herself mid sentence, feeling the heat creep up her cheeks as he gave her a puzzling look.
- People who shot at Ms.Forrest will shoot you too, they’ll even shoot first. Do you mean to tell me you put your life on the line for free? - he cocked an eyebrow at her.
- Why would people shoot me? - his lips were tightened as he wondered if she even knew what the mob did and how they dealt with enemies and issues. The Forrests themselves had few enemies, mostly surviving due to smart tactics and alliances with other small mobs, however, the Stans were mostly hated by every other mob in New York that coveted their unshaken, powerful grip over the Upper East Side and its residents. Once Gwen became officially his wife, any single person who hated him would hate her too and by that, would also hate Y/N. He couldn’t help but chuckle darkly at her naiveté.
- Alright, Miss Y/N ... - he pushed a small stack of papers, stapled together with a shiny gold staple towards her. - Please sign.
- What is it? - Y/N didn’t even touch it, merely taking a quick glance. If there was something Mr. Forrest had embedded into her and Gwen was to never, ever sign something without knowing what it was.
- A contract. You’re my employee now, under my payroll, therefore I require you to sign a contract.
- I’m not gonna sign a contract without reading it. - to be truthful, she was scared to deny him. He was statuesque and confident while she was cowering in her chair. - I would like some time to read it ... maybe ask a lawyer to look over it.
- Are you negotiating with me, Miss Y/N? - he was intrigued, watching as she used the last shred of courage she had to nod her head yes. - I don’t negotiate, Miss Y/N, but since my fianceé is rather found of you ... I’ll give you a day. How does that sound?
- Thank you, Sebastian.
- You may go now. - she beamed almost like a Disney Princess, preparing herself to pick up her contract, her hand reaching the paper before his hand wrapped itself around her wrist, stopping her from taking her hand away. She squealed softly, not expecting the sudden grip on her wrist. - Tell Genevieve to come in, please.
- Yes, sir.
He loosened the grip on her wrist thus allowing her to grab her contract and almost rush out of his office, leaving him to watch her leave and close the door behind her. She was positively dewy-eyed, ingenuous even, possibly the first woman he’d met within the mob who didn’t carry a knife under her skirt or spoke with the confidence of a stone queen. She was like a little daisy in the middle of blood soaked roses. However, he couldn’t help the route his mind took whenever she called him sir.
#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan x y/n#mob!sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan/reader#sebastian stan/you#sebastian stan drabble#sebastian stan imagine#sebastian stan fanfic#mob!sebastian stan#mob boss!sebastian stan#mob! au#au!sebastian stan
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Lev Lainur (Not Flauros) (If you're still doing the ask meme)
It's kinda difficult to separate Lev from Flauros when (if following Clocktower 2015) the Lev personality in FGO is Mr. Flauros personality, but I'll try to set a before and after agreeing to be one with the 72 colony/go with the plan and change perspective?
First impression: Stereotypical Evil Guy judged by the Top Hat and the spikes on his tie. Takeuchi went overboard; the betrayal was unsurprising. Cool Sugita voice.
Impression now: Lev's pretty complex character (with a wholly unfair storyline that hardly gets acknowledged because he's not a cute girl: can we talk about how messed up would be suddenly become aware of the demon god information and getting synchronised to this colony? Yeah? Because it is!) that Nasu underwrote and resorts (in general for him and Flauros) for us players to read or watch extra to get him (same for Olga). It's a shame, but you can't fully appreciate him (or Olga) if you only play FGO. His writing isn't the best. Cool Sugita voice.
Favorite moment: In FGO? I kinda enjoyed his flashback when he met Olga. Or his conversation with Roman about Mash in Initium Iter. It's difficult to take him as wholly pre pillar demon in other scenes (like the one about removing the pebbles of humanity's path, otherwise I'll pick that one).
Idea for a story: How he met Mash for the first time. This is woefully unexplored when Mash-Lev relationship is one of the most important for the entire story. He's one of her teachers. So important that Mash's first profile book, lists only two people in her important lines: Roman and Lev (also her Master but that gets a separate section as all Servants). Not Olga or Da Vinci, or even Team A. The entire plot arc of Goetia giving Mash a chance is because Flauros wanted her to survive and were his doubts he didn't express, born of this relationship. It's blink you miss it unless you read Nasu's blog.
Unpopular opinion: Everyone in Chaldea (original) main cast deserved better, including Lev. Lev in general deserves better writing and acknowledgment of things he did instead of being reduced to Flauros' sabotage in the fandom.
Favorite relationship: In Clocktower 2015, I wouldn't have minded Touko/Gusion (one of Lev's personalities who dislikes Touko but crushes on Aoko, and yet still gives her money when she asks) hatesex.
Favorite headcanon: He is completely oblivious to how his choice of clothes is ridiculous and doesn't know it causes a bad impression (but not sure if this is headcanon: see first his meeting with Olga flashback!). If we talk about general including Flauros, I do want him to be Person of Chaldea over Goetia because I feel FGO is about Chaldea and he along with Olga are the members that desperately need a closure storyline.
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Trauma, Transgression, Triumph: Bubbline, Korrasami, and Catradora
[prologue] [Bubbline] [Korrasami] [Catradora] [epilogue]
For Pride Month this year I decided to do a project of sorts and take a look at three animated queer couples: Bubbline, Korrasami, and Catradora. I’d like to point out certain patterns in these stories and highlight just how much thought and care was put into these characters and relationships. I’m also well-aware that there have been other wlw couples in animation, but I consider these three to all be milestones in their own way. And, at the end of the day, I’m personally drawn to these three in particular.
I love that we’re seeing more and more side characters and casually queer relationships in media, especially when we see it in kids’ media. But ultimately, what matters more than anything is that we get quality as well as quantity, and how I would define that is getting complex, well-developed characters who have interesting dynamics with each other. I don’t just want to see queer characters on my screen but I want to be able to relate to them and judge them for their actions, root for them, feel for them. I want queer love to be normalized as much as I want it to be allowed complication and struggle that goes beyond stories of homophobia.
There are three major themes that these analyses will build on: trauma, transgression, and triumph. But OP, you might say, these are some very generic terms. Conflict drives stories so of course most characters are going to be traumatized at some point, and isn’t transgression just a fancy way of saying something’s subversive? That’s every piece of media nowadays. As for triumph, well, these are all series primarily aimed at children, of course the heroes are going to succeed in the end. And I hear you, they can be generic, but what we’re looking at here is how they relate to these queer stories.
Transgression, in particular, warrants some further explanation. When talking about transgression in fiction, and when talking about these queer women and their relationships, it’s about the surpassing of limitations. Each of these characters grew beyond the stereotypes of their genres and even initial character concepts. Again, this is explained with each character and it manifests in various different ways. In general, I find it fascinating how this is both inherent in queer stories and yet a unique aspect.
This is by no means an ultimate deep-dive into any of these topics or the characters and relationships. It’s more like an overview, an examination of what makes these stories interesting and relatable. It’s also meant to point out the ways in which these stories become so rich, which is often through subtext and a much longer buildup than straight stories would have. I’d like to think there’s a good side to that, a little victory in the grim reality that not all stories are equal in the eyes of execs and networks.
In a way, the fact that queer relationships still can’t be as unabashedly visible and present as straight ones can be an advantage. All three of these relationships needed to have so much more buildup than a straight one would have just to earn their ending. That’s not to say that censorship is good, but there’s a certain sense of vindication in Bubbline getting so much subtext, in Korrasami being built up over two seasons organically, in Catradora being the DNA of She-Ra so it could not be cut out. Queer ships have to fight twice as hard and as a result we get dynamics that feel so much stronger, even when divorced from the romantic context.
If you choose to come on this journey with me I hope that I can offer some fresh perspective and that you find even more ways in which to appreciate these stories. Queer representation is important but the depth behind it is what really makes it feel real. So, yeah, let’s see what makes these stories resonate.
#catradora#korrasami#bubbline#spop#legend of korra#lok#at#she-ra#my thoughts#triple t project#my stuff#myedit
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i'm so glad i'm not the only one who likes the Maeve/Knox/Phoebe trio better than the Bayview Four. The Bayview Four is amazing but there's something more... authentic? about the main characters of the second book
Yes! Not to be like “the Bayview Four suck” because they don’t and I love them, but I honestly like Maeve, Phoebe, and Knox better. The original four are inherently the extreme version of their stereotype:
Bronwyn isn’t just the nerd, she’s the rich Yale bound valedictorian nerd. Cooper isn’t just the jock, he’s the jock who’s going to play on a professional team. Addy’s not just the princess, she’s the air-head-who-cares-about-looks princess (ofc she changes into a freaking badass but it takes a while and isn’t explored as much as it could be). Not only is Nate a bad boy, he’s the hot bad boy who was on probation for selling drugs and had a shitty life. From the get-go, they seem... too big for the world. Not like anyone I’d see walking down the halls of my high school. But it’s different for the narrators of the second book.
Phoebe: she’s not just the princess that Addy was. She’s dynamic and sassy and she’s not popular to be popular. She’s popular because she’s just the type of person that people like. She’s had flings and boyfriends but underneath all that, she’s insecure and has the ability to seriously consider her own actions and beliefs which no one does in the first book? Also she’s able to analyze her relationships with others. Also her flawed relationships. And her understanding that sometimes some relationships are worth salvaging and others deserve to be severed? The fact that she was sexually assaulted (why doesn’t anyone talk about this she was sexually assaulted in literally the eighth chapter and then she just... carried on) and she realized that she is worth respect. PHOEBE IS SUCH AN AUTHENTIC PERSON I LOVE HER OKAY?
Knox: He’s awkward and dorky but he embraces it. Bronwyn’s other traits are exemplified and she’s never just allowed to be a dork. But the fact that Knox doesn’t know how to talk to Sean or to Luis and that Cooper and Nate intimidate him? Knox took one look at toxic masculinity and threw it out of the freaking window. The fact that he didn’t pressure Maeve when she didn’t want to have sex? The fact that he continued being her friend and respecting her even though some people would be weird towards her if that happened with anyone else? The fact that he holds grudges but also accepts that he needs to let them go sometimes? The fact that he doesn’t judge? The fact that he understands he can’t take himself seriously but is also worth people’s time? The fact that he is fine with being seen with his sisters outside? The fact that he respects everyone even people like Sean and Brandon??? Knox supremacy okay?
Maeve: God Maeve. She’s kind of broken and weary of the world but that doesn’t stop her for caring about others. She’s had a life with no direction. She doesn’t know where to go to college. She doesn’t know how to talk to boys. She knows when to stand up for someone and when to let them fight their own fight. She accepts that she’s been leaning on the knowledge that she’ll get away with stuff because of her cancer. She accepts that she needs to change and be accountable. She knows when things make her comfortable and when there are things she doesn’t want to do (ie having sex). She’s polite and respectful even when she hates someone. She fights her own battles but she’s learning to accept help. She’s unsure but confident at the same time. She knows where her skills lie and where she needs to grow and she accepts that she’s not perfect (something her sister didn’t really do). She has social skills but choses not to use them sometimes or feels uncomfortable using them she’s just really layered.
Knox Maeve and Phoebe are really complex, something that I feel like wasn’t really a priority for the Bayview Four after a while?
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Surprise, bitch. I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me.
(Please tell me at least one of you got that reference.)
Anyways, jokes aside, the slaughtering of Dhar Mann’s videos is back and running! I’M BACK. Sorry for the long wait. I’ve had a lot of personal stuff going on, which I’ve been very transparent about and I wasn’t in the right headspace to tear apart Dhar Mann’s videos due to that.
Y’all are in for a real treat today. Why? Because I’m tearing apart TWO of his videos in ONE post! They’re all the same premise, basically. Both of these videos are about people scamming others out of their money by faking injuries and disabilities! Ain’t that nifty? /s
Both of these videos have these things in common: insurance fraud, scamming people, and faking injuries and disabilities. Obviously, we all know those things are extremely fucked up.
For anyone who’s not aware, Dhar Mann has actually committed fraud in the past that he pleaded no contest to in 2014. Fucking shocker, I know. He’s such a kind soul, right? How could he do something so EVIIILLL? /s
He’s actually never served jail time, let alone was ever arrested, for the five felony counts related to a scheme to defraud the City (Oakland, California) by submitting false claims and receipts in order to receive redevelopment grant money. Those were all from the shit he did back in 2008 and 2009! He stole THOUSANDS of dollars from the city when he was an entrepreneur in the medical marijuana business! Dhar Mann served five years of probation. They let him off easy. Why? Oh, because his parents are super rich too and they paid to get him out of serving a jail sentence.
In 2018, he made a blog post on entrepreneur.com about his “big mistakes costing him everything”. IT’S SO FUCKING FUNNY TO ME. JUST THE WAY HE PUT IT IS HILARIOUSLY BAD AND I CAN’T STOP LAUGHING. Like, BRUH. The fuck did you think was gonna happen? He wrote it out like he was a kid who got in trouble with his parents for not eating his vegetables and had to write out a whole fucking essay as to why it’s important to eat your veggies. It’s THAT bad.
ETA: Here's the link to the article. It's so bad it's funny.
Will there be any response from me? Unfortunately, not this time. These videos are too poorly made for me to make comments about. It wouldn’t be worth it at this point because Dhar Mann has his head up his own ass and won’t listen to the real people he’s actually hurting with his videos. It's obvious they're bad.
It's obvious that insurance fraud is a serious crime. Faking being disabled is disgusting. By faking disabilities, it makes it THAT much harder for disabled people to be taken seriously. It’s sickening.
Onto the first video I want to talk about. This first one has a man who fakes being disabled and fakes injuries all for monetary compensation, a lawyer who encourages her client to do this serious crime, a judge who’s EXTREMELY unprofessional, a few owners of small stores who are the victims of the crime that is injury fraud, and an undercover FBI agent.
Committing insurance fraud can usually end up with a prison sentence of up to five years per false claim (like what this man and his lawyer did in the video), but it can reach up to twenty years. There’s also a penalty that can be up to $250,000 per incident. It’s no joke. (Kids, don't do this, please.)
The first video starts off in a court room. The “victim” (the plaintiff) gives the store owner (the defendant) a piece of his mind, then the guy’s lawyer does the same thing. Hey, as a lawyer, you should know better. That’s extremely unprofessional. The store owner is obviously distraught. He's remorseful. He feels horrible about someone getting hurt in HIS shop, but he’s determined to fight his case. He didn’t do anything wrong.
The judge tells everyone to rise, then says everyone can sit down in an unprofessional way. He tells the plaintiff to tell their side of the story. The lawyer tells the judge that her client tried to grab onto one of the hand bars in the disabled bathroom stall, found that it wasn’t installed properly, and he fell. The store owner interjects and tries to tell the judge that what they were saying wasn’t true...without saying that he objects. The judge gets angry with the store owner...which again, is unprofessional.
The lawyer shows the judge the photos she took as evidence. (I'll get to why these claims are absolute bullshit.) After that, the judge finally tells the store owner to tell his side of the story.
The store owner is adamant about installing the hand bars in the disabled bathroom stall properly, he genuinely had no idea how that even happened, and he's still remorseful. The judge ruled in favor of the "victim", asks for the store owner to pay out $25,000, and court was dismissed.
The lawyer and the "victim" are seen gloating about being successful in pulling off another scheme. The "victim" tells his lawyer that he needed to get out of the wheelchair. His lawyer denies this by saying that she doesn't want to get exposed.
They then go to another independent business to pull off the SAME scam. They do this at a small boutique. The store owner goes around to catch them in the action when he bumps into an undercover FBI agent. The FBI agent asks him what he was doing, and he tells the agent that he’s trying to gather evidence. The agent understands and goes on his merry way.
We see the lawyer going into the dressing room while the “victim” is browsing around for a dress shirt to try on. She goes in with the screwdriver, unscrews the hand bars in the dressing room, then comes back out. The “victim” asks one of the store clerks if he could try on a shirt he picked out, so he goes back there, and he “falls” in the dressing room. LIKE HOW HE “FELL” IN THE DISABLED BATHROOM STALL AT ANOTHER STORE.
What makes these claims absolute bullshit is the fact that the lawyer carried around a screwdriver to uninstall the hand bars to make her client "fall" (she had it sticking out of her suit jacket). Plus, if a disabled person were to actually fall from improperly installed hand bars in the disabled bathroom stall, the holes in the wall wouldn't look clean WHATSOEVER. The screws would not come out clean like if you were to unscrew them out of a wall. Part of the wall and the screws would most likely be ripped out and the disabled person would be SERIOUSLY hurt (depending on the person). Like, you'd have to go to the hospital, most likely. The way that the "victim" "fell" was like he practiced it, like how you would in theatre. (I've practiced how to "fall" safely when I was in theatre for scenes where you have to faint or pass out. There's a trick to doing that without hurting yourself. Theatre kids, you know what I'm talking about.) He was still in the fetal position in his chair on his left side. He had NO injuries whatsoever.
His lawyer JUST so happened to be there! Convenient timing! She introduces herself (even though they clearly know each other already) and tells the people working in the store that she’ll be seeing them in court for their “negligence”. The store clerks have no idea what she’s even talking about and they’re understandably afraid. I don’t think the owner of that boutique was there at the time. (Don’t they have security cameras all over the store? I would think they'd catch onto what the lawyer did in one of the dressing rooms if they did.)
They pull off this scam, they're seen LAUGHING about fucking scamming people and committing a SERIOUS CRIME, and the store owner from earlier catches them when the "victim" gives the wheelchair back to his lawyer. They take the store owner's camera, taunt him, and then the lawyer EATS the SD card! They go off into the sunset, laughing like your stereotypical mean girls in Beverly Hills.
They go back to court, where the store owner is still trying to defend himself. The judge isn't budging at first, the lawyer is acting like the store owner is lying (he isn’t), and the store owner is trying to tell the judge exactly what happened. He’s almost ordered to pay out $25,000, which would mean that he’d have to close down his store to even come up with that kind of money. That stops when the undercover FBI agent goes right into the courtroom to give the judge evidence to prove that the store owner is innocent. Apparently this guy has been investigating these two people for a while and was waiting to catch them. It ends with the lawyer AND the "victim" being arrested and the store owner is proven innocent. He never ends up having to pay the $25,000.
Hey, Dhar Mann. I have a few questions for you.:
Are you projecting? Because you did commit five counts of fraud. You pulling the same shit again? Just curious.
When you add in BIPOC and AAPI characters, why do you have to ALWAYS have to write them as either the victims, the heroes, or you write them to be absolutely awful people? This is ESPECIALLY the case with Black and Hispanic people in your videos. You ALWAYS write these two groups like this mainly, and I don't understand why. The racial aggression in your videos isn't cute. Knock it the fuck off. Why not just write them as normal people, WHICH IS WHAT THEY ARE?
Is your concern for small business owners genuine? Do you actually care about small businesses? Or did you just add them into this video for brownie points to feed the gross excuse for a savior complex you have?
The second video I want to talk about is pretty much the same thing, except this involves a couple and they don't fake disabilities! They do fake being/getting injured though. I’ll call the guy with the nice car “Nice Guy” and the scammers “Scammer 1″ and “Scammer 2″. They don’t have any names, unfortunately.
It starts off with Nice Guy backing out of a parking lot when Scammer 1 "falls" behind the car and yelps out in pain. Nice Guy gets out of the car to see what happened and he’s freaking out because he thinks he just hit someone by trying to back out of a parking lot. He wants to make sure that Scammer 1 is okay.
Scammer 2 runs over to her boyfriend to see that he “fell” behind the car, berates Nice Guy, Scammer 1 is crying out in “pain”, and Nice Guy is trying to come up with a solution. He gives the two scammers $600 and they go on their way. Scammer 2 tells her boyfriend that he put on a great performance. Little did they know that Nice Guy heard everything they said.
But wait, kids! There’s more! It’s fuckin’ wacky!
They go to a little convenience store, Scammer 1 pulls out a water bottle out of one of the fridges that he didn’t pay for, and pours some all over the floor. Scammer 2 happens to walk in, "slip" on the spilled water, and land directly onto her back. The store clerk there goes over to see what happened, Scammer 1 introduces himself as a personal injury lawyer to Scammer 2, and they try to get monetary compensation from the store clerk. Little do they know that Nice Guy was watching them the whole time!
He caught them on camera trying to pull off a scam, he called the cops, and we never see Scammer 1 and Scammer 2 ever again!
Why is it that there were no security cameras in your store the first time around, but they were CONVENIENTLY THERE this time, Nice Guy? You could've proven your case and won the first time!
My thoughts on these videos? Super boring. Ableist as hell. Super unrealistic. They're so poorly made that I didn't even want to make a comment on either of them!
It looks obvious that he's projecting, but I don't know. What do y'all think?
#tw dhar mann#these videos are a fucking dumpster fire but they're so BORING#we all know that committing insurance fraud is wrong#anti dhar mann#please stop supporting dhar mann#dhar mann will live to regret his decision uwu#dhar mann will live to regret his decision to make these fucked up cringe videos#dhar mann is a piece of human garbage#dhar mann is a cringe ass nae nae baby#dhar mann#don't commit fraud kids!
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anti LO anon opinions:
(1) I don't know if anyone cares but LO has been released on Naver Webtoon, which is big since it's the first non-Korean work on the site. Problem is it's being ripped apart by the Korean readers. The ratings aren't great (i know 9.25 is still an A, but compared to other comics on there it's very low) and even the highest rated comments are ripping it apart as overtly sexual and crass, and how inaccurate it is and how creepy they find Hades and his actions. Also it's translated very badly too. Welp.
(2) If DashCon were held today LO would absolutely have a BDSM themed panel that should be 18+ but isn't with a grown man cosplayer who can't seal their bodypaint getting way too handsy with one of the underage "persies" and then one of the Hades cosplayers would repo the ballpit. Someone please tell me i'm wrong.
(3) It's very unlikely given how she made Aphrodite obsessed with Ares while he couldn't give two shits about her, but i'm so scared if Smythe ever finds out about Hermaphroditios. They're a very complex figure, especially in modern times that would be used to be a positive intersex, trans, or nonbinary figure, but judging by her handling of sex, sexuality, and gender in comic, it'd be way more likely she'd make them a stereotypical sex-obsessed freak who can't stop showing off their chest.
(4) I was looking through one of the oldLO Instagrams & you know how in the current run Persephone talks to Hades on the phone post-assault & her only concern is making him like her? In the original run there’s no assault & instead they spend hours talking about her passions & schoolwork, so they were actually shown building up a healthy bond & showing her intelligence instead of her wanting to impress him. It made me sad to see what was removed from what could have been a fresh take on Persephone.
(5) Unpopular opinion but LO Persephone's character is just so bland, plastic and barely even one-dimensional whose only traits are her curvy fertile figure and her crazy murder tendency. She is often either beloved or hated by those around her. She's supposed to be intelligent but lacks basic knowledge of how to use technology. And her anger tantrum of culling the village just made her seem like she has split personality and irredeemable as a character despite her being "the protagonist"
(6) Lore Olympus was one of the first webtoons I read because of the popularity and the art, but then as the story progresses it got really slow and unbearable. But Persephone is too bland and babyish whose only traits are her curviness and her Mary Sueness. Now I find Lore Olympus as one of the most trashiest webtoons ever, the story and plot are absolute garbages but yet I can't stop reading it and complaining about everything done terribly for it. 🤣
(7) I don't know if anyone cares, but you know the hairclip LO Hades gives Persephone that she's shown to care about because it's a gesture of love from him? Yeah in the latest episode she's pawning it off for money. What a great sign for the actual relationship lol
(8) I am really shocked that people argue that LO and punderworld are “accurate” and “faithful “ to Greek mythology and that they show the greek spirit perfectly. I am beginning yo hate anything greek myth related now because we get trash and people defend it no matter what.
(9) The fact Smythe calls LO "a deconstruction of myth" is ironically too real. There isn't even any form of myth left. Rather like a demolition site, it's just a pile of rubble now. Disney looks like an legit academic source in comparison.
(10) This isn't just an LO problem but why do so many of them imply it's a "forbidden romance" like only Demeter "disapproved" of it because no one gave her the heads up??? Surely if they asked for her okay on it she'd be fine with it??? No one else on Olympus was disapproving of it though??? They're not this grand epic romance and that's just the facts 😤
#anti lo#anti lore olympus#lore olympus critical#answered#greek mythology#greek gods#persephone#persephone and hades
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On Elsa and “Out of Character” behavior.
Sometimes I see arguments between different groups of people in the Frozen fandom - with some people criticizing Elsa’s actions in F2 by calling them out of character and other people defending them by saying her actions are in-character. But here’s the thing - I think both groups are a little misguided. One side just wants to use anything to tear the movie down, but the other side just wants to defend the film when sometimes the people who critique it have valid issues.
First of all, I don’t agree with people who try to paint Elsa as OOC in F2 by saying that her actions make her less “refined” than in the first film. This idea of Elsa’s “refinement” feels more like stereotypical headcanon than canon.
In F1, Elsa feels liberation when standing in the free air, without the weight of queenship weighing upon her. Thus, in F2, her choice to stay in the Forest could parallel that if written well.
The trouble is, for some reason, F2 decides to write a narrative where Elsa’s own desires and sense of self are not the catalyst for her journey to explore herself. Her mother’s Voice is the catalyst, so instead of telling a story where Elsa drives herself forward, the film tells a story where Elsa is led by larger forces beyond her control. This becomes worse when we factor in the origin of Elsa’s powers. They’re “a gift” for her mother’s action and while we’re supposed to see that in a positive light, I just don’t.It feels like Elsa being forced on a path in life before she was even born - a path that doesn’t come from her but instead comes from her mother. The destiny narrative makes Elsa a pawn - and I know I’m not “supposed” to read the film that way, but there is textual evidence to support my perspective. The fact her powers are tied to her mother rescuing her father and not to Elsa herself. The fact that the spirits decided these things for Elsa because how could Elsa decide while still in the womb?
When people use superficial reasons like Elsa’s “refinement” to call her OOC, they sometimes criticize Anna being queen and treat that as OOC for Anna - but I’ve personally always liked Queen Anna. I feel the role suits Anna and that she makes a capable leader, making tough decisions in difficult times across both F1...
and F2.
So I don’t think the superficial readings of either sister being OOC are true.
But here’s the thing - I DO think that Elsa comes across as somewhat OOC in F2 compared to F1, just not in a way that the superficial readings ever get across. Let me explain.
In F1, we see over and over again that Elsa is deeply and sensitively attuned to Anna’s emotions.
When Anna is in pain, Elsa feels it. She doesn’t want to hurt Anna - either physically OR emotionally.
And when she does hurt Anna emotionally, it breaks Elsa’s heart. F1 makes clear over and over that Elsa doesn’t want to do this - makes clear over and over that Elsa understands the terrible emotional pain Anna undergoes because Elsa has felt a pain akin to it.
Look at the look in Elsa’s eyes in the screencap where Anna is walking away. You can see such anguish in Elsa’s eyes, such regret. If Elsa felt like she safely could, she’d reach out in a heartbeat.
Over and over, the first film stresses that Elsa understands Anna’s emotional pain, that it hurts her more than anything to hurt Anna emotionally even as Elsa feels like she has to do that because of how she has been raised.
And then comes F2 and Elsa’s connection to Anna’s emotions... lessens to some degree.
It’s still there in this moment. Elsa clearly hates doing this.
But we don’t get to pause on Elsa’s emotions. We don’t get to linger with them.
The next time we see Elsa is here:
When I first saw this moment in the theater, it felt... abrupt. This was the scene that was in all the trailers, and when you watch the trailers, you think something will lead up to this.
And then the film just cuts directly to this moment. It just... happens, with only the conversation from before as build-up - only conversational exposition.
We don’t get to pause to breathe with Elsa, to have the full weight of her reflection after sending Anna and Olaf away. She must have reflected on that as she made her way to the Dark Sea and it must have hurt... but we don’t get to... see it.
We don’t get to see an incredibly crucial emotional moment that could show Elsa reflecting on Anna’s pain and Elsa’s own pain.
We just cut to this and focus on Elsa being... Awesome.
And then we get Show Yourself, and Show Yourself is all about Elsa’s joy and validation... and in the process, Elsa reflecting on Anna’s pain gets pushed to the wayside.
Now, in the past, I’ve gotten angry at Elsa for this - because it felt acutely OOC to me for Elsa to... lose sight of Anna’s pain in such a way.
And when I got angry, anti-Elsa people jumped on my anger and tried to use it to justify their agenda - and I don’t want that.
You see, anti-Elsa people try to frame this as, “Well, Elsa is just Like That. She pushed Anna away for her safety before and now she’s doing it again.” Anti-Elsa people treat Elsa like she’s just... naturally callous.
My point is not theirs. My point is that Elsa (at least, the Elsa we see in F1) is NOT “Like That.”
In F1, we see over and over that Elsa is not naturally callous. We see so much how Elsa connects with Anna on an emotional level.
From my perspective, the anti-Elsa sentiment is just as shallow as the people who throw around the word “refinement.”
But in F2, Anna kind of gets... dropped from Elsa’s journey. The focus becomes Show Yourself, and then Elsa freezes.
I know that I struggle with these scenes because I feel for Anna so much, because I agree with Anna’s perspective and her desire to protect Elsa, because I disagree with Elsa’s choice to go on alone. (Again, my disagreeing doesn’t mean I’m saying that Elsa is a bad person the way anti-Elsa folks do. I know that Elsa loves Anna and wants to protect her. I just... wish the two characters could have resolved the matter in a different way, through communication and through love. And I’m not saying the conflict of Elsa’s decision and Anna and Olaf’s anger was bad. It’s actually a really intriguing scene where the characters all kind of right and kind of wrong. There’s depth there... but my problem is the film doesn’t really explore that depth later on. We don’t get the sisters talking together about the emotional crises that drive them.
We don’t get... anyone... talking together that much. Elsa and Anna seem on different wavelengths, Anna and Kristoff seem on different wavelengths. Miscommunication is a plot device. And I know you’re going to tell me that it’s supposed to be mature, that it’s supposed to reflect the characters’ trauma - and it does reflect that trauma incredibly well, but...
I just want to see the broken people I saw forming a family being able to communicate in a positive way for more than the last several minutes at the end. I don’t care about the maturity of miscommunication that translates into surface-level scenes. There’s as much maturity in a family healing together than in reopening wounds for drama’s sake.
So maybe, my use of the term “OOC” is wrong. Maybe it’s not OOC for Elsa to go on alone (because she wants to protect those she loves dearly), but the rushed nature of the following scenes don’t allow the emotional impact of that particularly complex scene to land. Instead of letting us feel its full weight, the film moves to other things.
I’ve praised the slow, brooding pace of F2 before, but at times the pacing can still be rushed. So maybe it’s not a characterization problem but a pacing problem.
Still, I... I can’t shake the feeling that F2 presupposes that Anna is in the wrong - and I just disagree with that presupposition.
The film frames Anna as though she has to learn something. She gets the chance to reflect on her life in aching and beautiful clarity in The Next Right Thing. The film has her apologize directly to Kristoff for leaving him behind because she was just “so desperate to protect” Elsa. And because of that, the term “codependency” gets thrown around - often by anti-Elsa folks who have weaponized the term.
Here’s the thing though. Anna has an incredibly understandable and rational position in F2. She doesn’t knw what is going on. All she knows is Arendelle could be in danger, her sister has been hearing this voice and hasn’t told her, her sister could be in danger, and Pabbie has further entrusted her with keeping Elsa safe.
Not wanting your only surviving family to die when they are put in a position where they are forced to do incredibly dangerous things is not codependency. “I don't want to stop you from being whatever you need to be. I just don't want you dying, trying to be everything for everyone else too. Don't do this alone,” is actually an incredibly clear-sighted perspective.
I don’t know. When Elsa is forced into extremes in F2, it’s often framed as heroic - and oftentimes, it is heroic. Seeking the truth about Runeard at the expense of her own life is an incredibly noble, compassionate, and heroic thing for Elsa to do. When Anna goes to extremes to protect Elsa, it’s framed as... desperation. Even though I just want to desperately cry to the screen sometimes, “But Anna is in the right, Anna is in the right, Anna is in the right...”
Maybe my mind has been exhausted by different factions in the fandom trying to place blame. maybe fandom in general is too focused on judging characters and so that hurts the discourse because we have people judging and condemning Anna as a character and judging and condemning Elsa.
Maybe Frozen 2 means to be broadly humanistic, with the characters all being partly right and partly wrong, so we can empathize and love them all. If so, that’s beautiful.
But I don’t like the presupposition that Anna is “too desperate” and I don’t like how that’s beaten home for her in such a torturous way. Maybe I just empathize with Anna too much and I see my pain in her pain across F2 and so the film just hurts to watch.
Maybe it’s because I wanted to see this family talking together openly instead of going on individual journeys of self-discovery.
I know I’m speaking from a personal place here - because the bond the sisters have (especially in F1) means the world to me and is among the most beautiful connections I have seen in fiction, so I’m sensitive about it.
But I needed to get these thoughts out.
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Thoughts on Loki, Gender, Sex, and Identity
So...I've seen a few posts on transphobia embedded in Loki and I wanted to examine my own thoughts on this a bit. I'm not going to dig too deeply, just hit on a few of my thoughts on the matter regarding my own positionality as a demisexual, demiromantic, bisexual, nonbinary, gender funky human.
To begin, my own relationship to sex and gender is complicated, based on my own experiences. I'm fine with people not having this same interpretation because of differences in experience and I'm not going to sit around and listen to anyone bombarding me with statements about how wrong they think I am. Go write a post with relevance to your own experience and please don't shit on mine. The purpose of this is to share my own thoughts on this matter, not to get into an argument. I have enough real-world stress regarding these things and don't need them on Tumblr as well.
I've seen the argument that Loki is gender fluid and it is wrong to say he is sex fluid or that sex fluidity is a way to undercut or deny the validity of gender fluidity. I don't see it this way. To begin, we don't actually see Loki display gender fluidity, even though shape-shifting is clearly within his skill set. MCU Loki shifts into Sif once in The Dark World, but other than that, there is little evidence outside of his word at this. I know those creating this story did refer to him as gender fluid, but I question whether those who stand outside that fluidity might not be as well-versed in how gender fluidity comes in a myriad of experiences. I am fine with the idea that perhaps Loki still uses traditionally male pronouns while in other shapes. I am not considering comic interpretations of Loki in this, as there are so many different storylines that I think they would be hard to sum up into this character. And it is fine if you don't see this the same way.
In myth, when Loki transforms into a maiden during the marriage of "Freya" (Thor in disguise) to Thrym, the book I reference (Neil Gaiman's retellings of the myths) does, at one point, refer to Loki as "he." When the mythological Loki transforms into the mare to lure the horse Svadilfari away from the builder of their wall, the references to the mare indicate "she" (and it is worth noting that in this retelling, the mare is never referred to as Loki by name), but when Loki returns he is referred to using male pronouns yet still as Sleipnir's mother.
In the television show, Loki's file lists his sex as fluid. As gender and sex are entirely separate, I took this into consideration as a part of what defines a Loki- they may change physical sex. I did not see an entry for gender on the file. I may have missed it. But to me, the lack of listing gender and the inclusion instead of sex leads me to believe that the TVA doesn't much care for the gender of a variant, but rather the body in which they are most likely to inhabit. In this case, it would seem that knowing if a Loki is more likely to appear as a physical type without regard to pronouns or gender might be considered more important data than gender identity and pronouns. I examine this as someone who has to handle grant data that requires a sex marker in the demographics- not a gender identity, but an assigned-at-birth or otherwise legally documented sex.
I don't see these two things as mutually exclusive or an erasure of one another. I would see it as a way for the TVA to try to classify a variant without regards to any sort of identity. After all, if Lokis are destined for pruning, who cares how they see themselves? It's not like they are going to have an extended conversation with them- process them, judge them, prune them.
In the context of the Lokis we meet, and the note that they haven't met a female Loki, I do wonder why they haven't met one yet. Is it because they don't catch every Loki that comes through? Is it because they themselves have only ever experienced being Loki as men and and haven't assumed otherwise? I don't know. But I don't see it as impossible to explain, either. How many Loki variants have come through? And how many haven't survived? We don't see every variant in the Void that we see in Mobius' briefing holograms. Who didn't make it, and who is missing? Yes, the comment that she "sounds terrifying" could be read as incredibly sexist, but at the same time...Lokis grew up with stories of the Valkyrie, powerful warrior women who they likely looked at with awe, wondering why these towers of strength were no longer with them. The Valkyrie predate them and are mythic figures- we see how Thor reacts to meeting one of these warriors in Ragnarok. Given that this line comes from Loki the Elder, someone who leans into the power of sorcery and the capabilities of magic, wouldn't it make sense that the combination of these skills would seem terrifying? A warrior of the legendary capabilities of the Valkyrie combined with the might of a Loki sorcery? I mean, I'd probably think the same thing, and I think this is possibly one reason why the variant Loki we come to know would agree with him- she has been jumping through time, surviving apocalypses that likely terrify him, enchanting anyone she needs to use, and she can run circles around him. Given the tonal shift in the delivery of the line "and she needs me," I interpret this as the blustering Loki does when he wants to feel more important than he really is- he's trying to justify why he needs to find her to someone else (and possibly to himself) instead of just saying it's because he cares deeply about her and wants to know what the hell that means. Sylvie can clearly take care of herself and doesn't really need rescue. He wants to feel important enough to go back and to convince the others he is as well. That she could render him irrelevant is something that would be terrifying to someone who craves attention and affirmation.
Mobius says that the most common iterations of Lokis look like the one standing before him, yet Loki does encounter a variant file from California in the early 20th century that refers to Sylvie. So the TVA knows that there is a rare chance that a sex fluid Loki could exist (and they have, presumably, pruned them). While I wish this had been explored further, I don't necessarily see it as a transphobic intent. Did it resonate that way with some people? Yes. And that's fine. Their feelings on the matter are valid.
Another element of my interpretation of this comes from my own experiences of gender expression. Most of the time during which I have been out as nonbinary, people have read my gender as a woman. I like my long dresses and I have an extensive collection of vintage women's clothing. I also have a decent collection of corsets and well-tailored suits that fit my body type. I don't bind my chest. My hair varies from very short to as long as it will grow (not far past my shoulders). I occasionally wear eyeshadow, regardless of what gender I am on any given day. I very rarely read masculine and when I feel neutral, I still don't bother to alter my body shape, only sometimes choosing a bra or bra tank top that decentuates my curves (which, granted, aren't dramatic). So the concept of a gender fluid individual choosing gendered pronouns and reading as male during the (relatively short) time in his lifespan during which the audience knows him doesn't seem odd to me, as it is how I've existed (and I, too, used gendered pronouns for a few years on my nonbinary journey- they were a default while I searched for something that suited me better). But I have known nonbinary people who have exclusively used gendered pronouns and it does not invalidate their gender identity, nor does gendered expressions of that identity. The concept that we would only see a male presenting Loki doesn't seem very odd because I have lived a stretch of my life during which I, too, presented a very femme gender expression and used traditionally female pronouns. But that did not make me less nonbinary.
And, of course, this is assuming that gender fluidity is part of his identity, which we are never told in the text of the story. I reject that everything a creator says must be added to the text of a piece of media simply because the piece also has to stand on its own and be interpreted on that level as well. We do know that Loki shifts sex, which makes sense for someone who shifts bodies, as sex is tied more to bodies than gender is.
The point in this is that we can't assume the gender of a fictional character, just as we can't assume from appearance the gender of a living human. I may read as a woman, but this is not my gender identity and no one should be assuming that my clothes are meant to project gender. Reducing gender to an outward and bodily expression of sex is not something with which I am comfortable, and it seems that some people are conflating the two in their interpretation. Again, your experiences may differ from mine and it's fine to see this in another way.
But here's another very important thing this show can demonstrate. Allow an anecdote. My children watched this show with me. My son is nearly 7, my daughter a few months from being 10. She is very femme- loves makeup, frilly dresses, dolls, princesses, My Little Pony, the whole shebang of activities stereotypically associated with the childhood of girls. At this point in her life, she very much asserts that she is a girl. The same goes for my son- he very much asserts himself as a boy. When we were watching together, we talked about Loki being gender fluid, just like their Mum. We talked about Loki being bisexual, just like their Mum. They understood that just because Loki looks one way, it doesn't mean he is that way...again, just like their Mum. There is power in the idea that some of us are in this same position- we are assumed to be cisgender based on our appearances, but our identities are more complex than that. I thought this was a good window for my children to see through and one I could turn into a teachable moment about all the different sorts of people there are in this world. This is the blessing of imperfect media- we can find ways to learn from it and to share opportunities in it for open interpretation with those around us. And the lesson of not jumping to conclusions about gender or sex based on appearance is a deeply important one for young children to understand.
Is this an area in which I have a problem with the show? No. Does this mean the show couldn't have done more or better? Also no. We do need a variety of types of representation. But seeing the possibilities of this being someone a little more like me (though alas, I can't shift shape)? That was nice.
Hopefully we can see more of this in the future, but if we don't, we can create transformative works to fill in the gaps. It's what fan communities have always done and will continue to do. When I fell into fandom years ago with Harry Potter, long before the movies were all out, so many works were there to add queerness, racial diversity, language diversity, disability representation, all of it, into the series. It didn't stop us from still enjoying what it meant to us in those times and places and I don't think we have to outright reject this show for the imperfections we see in it. It can still thrill us and speak to something in us we've been lacking.
And in my case, that is the affirmation of wearing traditionally gender coded clothes while still asserting my pronouns are ze/zir/zirs and my gender is nonbinary, though also gender fluid, gender optional, or gender funky and that my oft-assumed-to-be-hetero relationship makes me no less bi or any other piece of my complex relationship to sexual orientation (and sharing that affirmation with my kids).
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