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mimzy-writing-online · 3 years

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You probably know this by now, I don't know if you keep up with Whumptober, but one of the prompts this year includes "blindness". I'm not blind but based on your posts about writing blind characters, and based on how I would feel if one of my disabilities were used as a whump prompt, I'm not super comfortable with it. I was wondering what your thoughts are on blindness being a Whumptober prompt.

(unironically and with feeling) thanks, I hate it.

Yes, I’m familiar with Whumptober, but I’ve never participated myself and I haven’t seen this year’s prompts.

Edit: I later did see the prompts and check out the blog. I think it's a good set of prompts and I look forward to all the promising content, especially since some of my favorite tropes are there. To be clear before you read this, I have no problem with Whumptober2021 or whump in general. This is not the first time blindness has been included for a list of whump prompts, and it won't be the last.

This post directed at the concept of "blindness" as a whump prompt and why I think it's a bad idea. The intended audience is individual writers thinking about future projects.

The timing of this is almost too perfect because I read a fanfic earlier this week that would meet that prompt exactly. Tags included whump, blindness, and angst with a happy ending. Now whump, hurt/comfort, and angst with a happy ending are tags I enjoy reading, but blindness as whump has a specific message to it.

To explain that message, I want to discuss what whump is. Many readers are already familiar with the genre, but I think taking the specific definitions and picking apart what it means and what expectations we carry when reading whump fanfiction

Urban Dictionary defines it as: taking a character and putting them through physical and/or mental torment and is typically followed by the same character being treated for their traumas. To indicate the characters place in the situation they’d typically be called a whumpee (the character being hurt/comforted), the whumper (the character that causes harm and trauma), and the caretaker (the character designated the helping/healing/comforting the whumpee).

Fanlore has a page for whump that explains it in depth, including where it started in fanfiction, examples of whump, and even a list of “popular targets” in different fandoms. (Warning: you might find yourself called out on the popular targets list)

“The term whump (or whumping) generally refers to a form of Hurt/Comfort that is heavy on the hurt and is often found in gen stories. The exact definition varies and has evolved over time. Essentially, whump involves taking a canon character, and placing them in physically painful or psychologically-damaging scenarios. Often this character is a fan favorite…”

To add to that, I think an important detail is the distinction Fanlore makes between hurt/comfort and whump:

“While some communities and fandoms may use whump as a synonym for hurt/comfort, there is still a recognition that whump refers to darker and more extreme scenarios. And there are still whump fics been written that have very little, or no comfort at the end of the story.”

The big appeal of hurt/comfort is getting to both explore the darker sides of pain and then experience the catharsis of being taken care of, of being supported by your loved ones as you recover from the trauma. The character is the proxy for experiencing those highs and lows while you yourself are safe at home.

I personally don’t read much/any whump without some h/c involved, but I’m happy there are stories out there for people who do enjoy it. I’m not here to judge what you like reading or what you do to your characters.

What I want is to express how blindness, my disability, used as a whump prompt personally makes me feel and what message it sends to me, to others, and how that message affects my daily life.

Whump undeniably involves watching a character suffer through something painful and traumatic.

My use of the word “suffer” is what I want you to focus on.

Vision loss can be painful and traumatic. I personally developed an anxiety disorder in response to vision loss. Others experience depression. For some it might result in relapsing into old, maladaptive coping mechanisms like drug use, self harm, or eating disorders.

A big part of my anxiety was how people reacted to my vision loss. It was a cause of their stress. They were worried because they genuinely believed I would never live a happy life without normal vision, and that my life would only be struggle and pain.

I recently saw an old friend who hadn’t heard about my vision loss. The conversation was awkward, but the worst part was how they reacted as though I had experienced an insurmountable tragedy. And even when I assured them I’m happy with my life, they clearly didn’t believe me. They acted like I was just lying or in denial.

I love that people want to empathize with my situation and ask themselves what they would do in my situation, but I hate when the conclusion they come to is something along the lines of “I could never do that, I’d be too miserable thinking about everything I lost, I’d never be able to do anything I enjoyed ever again.” But I did go blind. And I’m not miserable, I’m actually happy with the direction my life is going, and I still enjoy my hobbies, even if I engage with them differently.

I’m not suffering. My life didn’t end with vision loss. It’s not ruined, broken, or worthless.

I read a fanfic that was tagged with whump, blindness, and angst with a happy ending. A general synopsis of the plot: the whumpee had gone blind due to a curse. It was true love’s kiss that broke the curse. Even from the summary I knew it was going to end with whumpee being cured somehow and that I’d leave that fanfic vaguely dissatisfied no matter how good the rest of the fanfic was.

I can say this for the fanfic: the whumpee had already accepted that they would likely be blind for the rest of their life, but everyone around them was treating it as a tragedy that needed to be fixed, working tirelessly for a cure despite the whumpee’s protests that they didn’t have to.

It actually hit home to my personal experience.

I still left it dissatisfied with the ending. I might love curse fics in that fandom, and I love the “true love’s kiss” trope, but it wasn’t enough to distract me from the fact that: an actual person out in the world thought the best happy ending, maybe the only happy ending, would be if the character got their sight back.

(note: I clicked kudos and exited out of the story's page because no fanfic writer deserves unsolicited critique or hate, especially for content I consumed for free and at my own volition.)

Why read a story I knew would disappoint me?

Because blindness representation is so damn rare that I feel like I’m wandering in a desert, dying from thirst and desperate for that oasis. But sometimes that oasis is a mirage and the author is unintentionally telling you that your life is actually awful and you’ll never be fully happy like this. And that is a shit mentality to walk through life with.

I don’t appreciate blindness being a whump plot. I hate it. Hundreds (thousands?) of fanfictions featuring blind characters are about to enter the internet and the overall message is going to be “You poor thing! You must be in so much pain, you must be miserable! Who’s going to save you? Who’s going to comfort you? Wouldn’t it be terrible if there was no one in your life to take care of you? You poor helpless thing!”

And I feel objectified. I feel trivialized. The mirage in the desert is going to become a starch, empty room filled with dozens of water bottles, almost all of them poisoned. My representation is going to hurt me personally, and it’s going to reinforce that idea strangers have about how awful my life must be.

(I returned to school this past month, and every day I’m hesitant to tell someone I’m visually impaired because I don’t want to be treated differently. If I’ve managed to pass as sighted this whole time and then suddenly reveal “oh yeah, I’m visually impaired” I feel this instant silence, this pause of awkwardness as people suddenly question how they’re supposed to treat me. They treated me like a person, and now I’m something strange and unfamiliar.)

I’ve worked so hard to improve representation for blind people, to give internet strangers the exposure to a blind person they need to normalize blindness because I hope that if they’re ever so lucky as to meet a blind person, they’ll treat that person with respect. That hope that another person in the blind community will find a friend they feel comfortable and accepted with. I hope that I’ll meet people who accept my blindness as just another aspect of me (like being bisexual or gender fluid or a writer or a cat lover).

Please don’t turn me and my community into a caricature. Don’t erase everything I’ve worked for with this blog.

To be clear, this is not just me saying "I hate the cure trope" again. This is me saying "the purpose of whump is to painfully hurt your favorite character, and I hate that your idea of pain and suffering is my daily (wonderful) life."

#blindness #whumptober #fanfiction #whump #whumptober 2021 #blind character #disability #ableism #anon

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stagemanagerssaygo · 4 years

Text

Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney’s Hyperion Theater

by Cooper Howell

Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney's Hyperion Theater. #holdingtheateraccountable Im just gonna go ahead and be straight up. This is pretty scary to share. HEAVEN: Once upon a time Liesl Tommy cast me as Prince Hans in Frozen: Live at the Hyperion. And I was gooped. GOOPED. There was nothing in my prior history that gave any indication this was possible. Up until then every role I played had to do with my race. Every. Single. One. And even ones where it didn’t (Shakespeare or classical pieces mostly) I was always made aware that the novelty of me being a poc in that role that gave me the part. So much did I not expect to get this part that when I got the callback I rolled my eyes and didn’t take the actual callback seriously. I mean, there was a zero percent chance that Disney would ever let me play a Prince, especially when the dude in the movie is a ginger. But then I got it. And immediately everything I thought was possible about my career changed. My whole life I’ve never inwardly felt black. I’ve never inwardly felt white. I’ve always felt like I was Cooper, you know, on the inside. But whether it was every single white human in Utah reminding me that I was “the whitest person they ever knew/saw” (which DIDNT mean how white my skin was. It was how white I ACTED) or Mr. Johnson, my 7th grade drama teacher, telling me that he “wanted to put Velcro on the ceiling to see if I’d stick” or Mr. Smith, my high school drama teacher, saying “finally we can do black shows” as soon as I entered high school and then not casting me in roles because of the "optics" of it, or even my best friend in high school Tanner Harmon who called me "blackie", I was always reminded that I was an other. So imagine getting paid good money to put on that $10,000 costume and waltzing out to 4000 people a day to play a really amazing part. A fantastic, evil, complicated, person who sings a killer duet and then grabs the show by the throat with a vicious about-face monologue... and not once was my race ever mentioned cuz it didnt matter. What was being prized was Cooper, my talent, not my skin color that I never asked for. Heaven. Liesl MADE SURE, almost overly sure, that the poc’s in the cast felt equal. The kingdom of Arendelle, after all, is a make believe place. It can be whatever. From having Disney executives come and tell us that they were happy to have us there, to side conversations with John Lasseter, we were made to feel overly welcome playing the parts we were playing. She encouraged us to dive deeper into the script of a cartoon that I didnt really think much of until I was in it. We were encouraged to ask why. We felt seen as talent and not commodities. There were, of course, detractors. Gosh, I remember people at a party of cast members from "Mickey and the Magical Map" another show at Disneyland which features a princess and the frog number and many of those casts mates angrily claiming that “if that black girl Tiana Okoye can play Elsa than I should be able to play Princess Tiana” and then looking at me to confirm that was okay to say, not realizing that a) she’s one of my best friends, b) that I’m in the show with her also playing a role that wasn't created to be a poc, c) how racist that sounded, and d) why there's a difference there and why that wouldn't make sense. On Liesls final night I came up to her and said “I don’t know why you did it but thank you so much for casting ME in this part” to which she replied “you mean why would I cast a handsome, talented person in this role?” And I stuttered something like “well, I mean, I’m black. You know...” to which she tilted her head to her side and said “no. I don’t know why. Tell me why that matters.” And I had no answer. Seeing that I had no answer she smiled. That was the answer. There was no reason. On the spot my outlook about myself changed. Windows into what I thought was possible for me opened. -------------------------------------- HELL: And then Liesl went back to NYC and she was replaced by a man named Roger Castellano as show director. Rogers task, he told us on the first day, was to "change the show". We were not told what needed to be changed or even why, but that changes were on the horizon. You've got to understand: to a full cast of actors who had just spent more than three months dissecting a 60 page Disney script with a Tony nominated director like it was Shakespeare, we were initially emotionally/mentally/spiritually resistant to changes. But then it became clear that the spirit of collaboration was over, and the show changes were to be given without the same care, consideration, and thematic explanation of why they were being made. Everyones initial reaction was to push back, but when people who questioned their notes or their changes started getting days removed their schedule or being replaced entirely by a new actor, the Hyperion theater became a place where no one was allowed to speak out. Injustices were happening left and right and no one felt they could do anything for fear of losing their livelihood. And that's when the Frozen: Live at the Hyperion became a living hell. In my first note session with Roger he pulled me into a room with Domonique Paton, my best friend and incredible costar who played princess Anna in the show I was in. She just so happens to also be black. Almost all of Prince Hans’s scenes in the show are with her character and so most of my notes would be primarily based on those interactions with her. Earlier in the day I performed with a different (white) actress but it was the show with Domonique that I had a note session about. Imagine my surprise and dismay when, with how Liesl set up the show experience, we were told this: “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER ITS TOO… URBAN.” Urban. What else could that have meant, do you think? He could have said maybe “too contemporary” emphasizing that we were maybe too modern in our speech patterns or movements. We weren’t. He could have said “too lax” or “too loose” meaning that maybe we were being unprofessional and goofy up there because we’re really good friends. We were not. The best me and Ms. Paton could think of was a 8 count moment of improv dance that me and Domonique decided to use as a synchronized moment of unity. It happened to fall on the line “our mental synchronization can have but one explanation” and thought, with the freedom that Christopher (the original choreographer) had given us, was appropriate, especially considering everyone behind us was doing the robot. As in the 80s robot. But he didnt clarify. He just said “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER IT’S TOO… URBAN” And when asked what he meant he smiled with a little shrug and said "you can figure that out. You're smart." And thats how I became Black Hans and Domonique became Black Anna. My every moment onstage afterwards became about the optics of being a poc in that show. It was if I was suddenly made aware that I was LUCKY enough to be there and under any normal circumstances, or this new directors circumstances, me getting this part would have never happened. But the message was clear. It was especially clear when me and Domonique Paton shows together durastically decreased and made even more clear when the vast majority of the new hires were not people of color. But no one said anything. And made even MORE clear when, over the next few weeks, both Domonique and I got COPIOUS notes, ten times that of our coworkers that played the same parts. It was almost a game. In fact we did turn it into a game, seeing who would get the least amount of notes from him in a day. Our costars would even joke about it onstage with us, during the ballroom scene, and jokingly whisper "The shows been up 15 minutes. How many do you think you got today?" But no one said anything. And the notes were about all kinds of things. How we held our hand. If our inflections went up or down on a word. Which side of a couch we leaned on… which was fine! When you're an actor, thats the gig... until we started comparing our notes with the actors that played our same parts and none of them, NONE, would get the same notes. Our notes would be outrageously longer, the note sessions sometimes lasting 10/15 minutes. Others would get the “Oh hey, try doing this or that next time, okay bye” walk-by notes. Sometimes I would sneak into the audience and watch as some of the other Han's, some of whom changed lines, changed entire intentions of scenes, some of whom adding in all types of vocalizations and cackles and dance moves and what have you, and would receive ZERO notes. But I was watching them to see what was wrong with me. What was my performance missing? What am I actually doing to feel this singled out. And then I realized that the thing that was wrong with me was that I was a different color than the 5 other white Hans's they cast. And then I started getting notes about my penis. Most of the time these “penis sessions”, as I called them, were given in private rooms without another stage manager present. It was incredibly unpleasant and unprofessional. In fairness, those Prince Hans pants are TIGHT! And yes, Mr. Howell is indeed a party in the front and a party in the back, but so were a lot of those fellas. And thats where I put my foot down. If Disney was going to provide me with a costume it is not my responsibility to fix their problem, especially when other of my (white) costars had been given a dance belt for the same thing. But they never got penis notes. Private session notes about what their penis looked like in that show. Over and over again I was told to fix it, to not make it (my dick) so apparent, and that “if my daughter were younger I wouldn’t want her to come to a show you were performing at" all the more insulting considering his daughter, a cast member in the show, was a friend of mine and the loveliest person. He started demanding that I buy a dance belt. It was “my fault”, “my responsibility” …and thats where I took my stand. And then it really became hell. Penis sessions were now done out in the open. Once, he screamed at me, in the green room in front of all of my costars during lunch, about how incredible unprofessional I was, about how he was tired of seeing my dick, and that if I didnt go buy myself one I didnt deserve to be there anymore. Followed by a huge litany of notes. That doesnt compare to some of what Domonique went through and I invite her to share them if she’s willing. During this time I went to every stage manager in the building and told them about being singling out and about my penis. They all told me to write a complaint report and it would go to some place called "HR". Which I did. Numerously. More months passed. Nothing from "HR". Multiple cast members who witnessed my note sessions encouraged me to go to the HR themselves. I didnt honestly know what an HR was. As soon as it was explained to me by my allies even what an HR was I went to the head of HR at Disneyland herself and waited outside of her door. I asked her if she got any of my HR reports and she told me that she had received no HR reports from the Hyperion. Ever. And then asked me to fill out a HR form. As we went over it, she asked me some questions, and then set up a second meeting. On the second meeting she said that in order for my report to be given credence I would need witnesses to give their testimony. The witnesses, in fact the very people that told me to go to HR in the first place, said no. They didnt want to lose their jobs. In retrospect that might be the thing that hurt the most but, whatever... anyway, I was told "“well… without testimonies we’ll do an investigation and we’ll call you when we’ve completed it.” I never received a phone call. With absolutely zero protection from the stage managers from both the sexual harassment or my obvious racial targeting I (and others) were experiencing, not to mention that HR reports were doing nothing, aka not being forwarded, I thought about quitting. And when a white stage manager made a show mistake and laughed it off to the cast by saying an entirely offensive lynching joke, I quit. I didnt matter to Disney. How I felt and what I was being put through didnt matter. I was a commodity. My departure was unceremonious. Bizarre. 100% un-magical. I hung up my costume one last time and it was given to a new Hans, one who looked very much like me oddly, and stepped out of the theater. The park was playing “every wish your heart desires will come to you” and I remember laughing at how dead that song felt. The director has since moved on but still works as a musical theater director in Southern California. This one time 4 years ago I got to feel something other than my color for the first and only time in my professional career. It lasted from about March 2016 to July 2016 and never again since. I will never forget in those early days looking at all the beautiful princesses I got to woo and thinking “wow. I’m a prince right now.” Im sure that sounds stupid. But it didn't feel stupid. And a Disney prince! Yeah, a shitty prince kinda... I mean, he's a sociopath... BUT still a Prince! Especially special was being able to look in Dominique’s eyes and I could see the same glimmer of “can you believe we get to do this right now” reflected back. We never knew it was in the cards for us. My race always has and will always be part of my career equation and a determining factor of its projection. It will always be a determining factor in how im treated, by creatives, by people, by the those in authority over me, including the government and the police. #wasitmyskin

Copied in its entirety here from Cooper Howell’s public Facebook post: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10163696376095054&set=a.10151302685610054&type=3&theater

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dorimena · 3 years

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Are you taking requests could you make a part two for motorboating but the characters are motorboating the reader (sorry if this to much)

Yes I am! And of course! I’m assuming it’s the same three characters so - and it’s not too much! Sorry in advance if it comes out a bit sillier than the original one (´꒳`)

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰; Bakugou Katsuki, Aizawa Shota & Monoma Neito

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 1.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; nsfw in Monoma’s part, nsfw-ish in Aizawa’s, motorboating, ⅔ fluff, ⅓ suggestive, cuddling, soft boys, mentioned kink, bdsm harness, cursing, implied multiple orgasms in Monoma’s part

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; gender neutral reader, the boys appreciating your chest, everyone but Bakugou kinda failed, implied dom!reader, implied sub!character, aged-up characters, Monoma & Bakugou are 18+

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; in case no one knows what motorboating is, let us take our beloved Urban Dictionary and recite:

“The act of pushing one's face in between two ample breasts, and rocking one's head side to side very rapidly while making a vigorous, lip-vibrating "brrr" sound.”

Here is part one where these three boys are motorboated

𝕸𝖔𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖇𝖔𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕳𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝕽𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖊

☙ Remember when I said that if there’s one thing Bakugou loves more than lying on your lap, it’s you lying on his chest?

☙ I lied, kinda

☙ The truth is that he loves laying on your chest more than you laying on his chest, but he’s sure it’s about the same sentiment

☙ He loves using you as a pillow, but he won’t ever really admit that, not at all

☙ Not because it’s embarrassing (it kind of is) but because you tease him about it, which makes him blush and 6/10 times he sometimes indulges in some fantasy and proceeds to accidentally ignore you

☙ And now it’s one of those times where he accidentally did it again

☙ And you’re pouting, the hand that was scratching his head just placed there, still as your eyes drift elsewhere, gaze set on some random object as you try to think up what’s getting him so distracted

☙ But Bakugou thinks you’re upset, sad, because you stopped scratching his head and you know how much he loves that!

☙ He bites back his question, not wanting to bother you out of your obvious thoughts, simply placing his head back on your chest until an idea comes to his mind

☙ And even if it’s something you’ve hinted at liking, he’s still gonna try convincing himself this is revenge, kinda

☙ You managed to find out how much he loves you motorboating him, so saying this is revenge will be out-of-place and just make it obvious how he’s just being a good boy boyfriend

☙ Anyways, let’s get back to the present

☙ He stops any other hesitation lingering in his mind as he slowly turns his face, his face buried in between your chest which startles you out of whatever you were doing

☙ And when you scratch his head to maybe catch his attention, Bakugou takes this as his chance to begin turning his head side to side, slowly

☙ When he picks up speed and is at about the same pace you usually are in when motorboating him, you laugh as you hug his head

☙ Accidentally stops him, by the way, and has him let out a noise of confusion and slight irritation

☙ Did you not like it?

☙ But he feels how you’re giggling, laughing, cooing at him

☙ He’s red, but you can’t see it, not when you’re holding his head still

☙ And he’d be trying to pull back but being buried between your chest is, again, oddly soothing

☙ But now he’s kind of suffocating

☙ So he kind of struggles in your hold, and when you loosen up, he starts again, this time making sure to make much more convincing engine noises

☙ Your laugh grows tenfold, and he eventually joins in, his body shaking as laugh after laugh rakes over and he looks up at you

☙ “Suki, again?”

☙ This might be one of the few times you let him take control, and he will make this worthwhile

☙ In other words, you guys aren’t leaving the couch for a gooood time

☙ Because Bakugou will be trying to argue and convince you he does a better job motorboating and how you’ve been doing it wrong all this time

☙ You retort back how he’s never complained before

☙ He stays quiet before burying his embarrassed face in your chest again, making weak noises before they just turn into his typical grumbles

☙ He wants you to know just how ticklish this can be

☙ Because when he asked you if you wanted to be motorboated by him, you rejected the offer and said it’s fun giving than receiving

☙ Had him wonder if someone’s done this to you and you either didn’t like it in general or the other person ruined the experience

☙ Either way, he came to the conclusion that he’s just going to have to surprise attack you like you did to him

☙ Asking you and convincing you would be futile, with the way you seem to be cautious with his questions

☙ Or you’re hiding something

☙ But he knows that if you’re hiding something, it’s for a good reason he’ll eventually find out, whether accidentally or you ‘spilling the beans’

☙ His surprise attack came into action the moment he saw you relaxing on the bed in a starfish position, staring at the ceiling

☙ He just came out of the shower, but he’s decent; shirtless, but he’s at least wearing pants

☙ So he’s not too eye catching (lies he already had your attention the moment he opened the door)

☙ And seeing how busy you seem, he decided that it’s now or never

☙ And it has to be now

☙ You feel the bed sink a bit, but below you rather than next, but you don’t look at him, not while you’re busy trying to figure out how to tell him that you’re-

☙ Why is his head on your chest?

☙ Not that you mind, but it’s mostly you on him than him on you

☙ Does that make sense?

☙ Your eyes go to the top of his head, blinking as your brain processes the position

☙ But it’s too late because he’s already moving his head and making the engine sounds

☙ Which would look ridiculous from your point of view but really it has you blushing really red

☙ He can, uh, feel it, right?

☙ Your shirt is too thin to hide the-

☙ Aizawa stops and interrupts your mental monologue, lifting his head to stare at you with dilated pupils and mouth opened in slight shock

☙ Did he feel that right?

☙ You shyly smile, wiggling your eyebrows before somehow stripping off your shirt

☙ And on your chest is a black leather harness

☙ Has Aizawa salivating in his mouth until he realizes oh, tonight’s the night

☙ “Keep motorboating, babe. Don’t stop until I say so.”

☙ Has him wondering why you’d tell him that-

☙ Oooooh your leg feels good grinding against his half hard-on, has him almost whimper on the spot but he groans softly instead

☙ Surprise motorboat attack kind of failed, but it came to bite him back with a better surprise

☙ God, he loves it when you put that harness on

☙ Again, remember in the previous post you were up for either him motorboating you or you motorboating him?

☙ The offer is still on the table

☙ But Monoma doesn’t know that

☙ He still doesn’t really like you motorboating him

☙ First, because it’s really ticklish and he’s really ticklish and if he’s tickled enough he lets out embarrassing snorts

☙ Second, because his nipples are sensitive and if you brush against them a certain way, or in any way really, he moans and it doesn’t matter where you guys are

☙ So, it’s torture

☙ He’s been plotting revenge for some time since the last time you motorboated him

☙ Which was the previous night where he had to fucking run to the bathroom because-

☙ Well, you get the idea, I think

☙ How embarrassing! How could you be so mean?

☙ … that’s a stupid question and he knows

☙ So his revenge, unlike Aizawa’s surprise attack, wasn’t to creep on you and motorboat you before you even notice

☙ Rather simply dive right into your chest and go crazy with it

☙ And don’t tell anyone, but he had to kind of investigate how to do it properly because he’s not such an asshole to simply fuck it up and make it hurt

☙ Who knows how hard he’ll fall against you, so he’s been practicing that too

☙ Don’t let him know you caught him practicing his dive one too many times that it had you concerned whether or not he’s been struck by a quirk or if it’s just Monoma being… Monoma

☙ The day has come where he shall give you a piece of his mind

☙ Or so he thought until he suddenly found himself trying to catch his breath from your 3rd round of couch sex

☙ Has him trying to remember why he even decided to come to the living room if he could be in his office catching up in paperwork-

☙ Oh yeah

☙ Your eyes are closed as you bask in your post-orgasm bliss, a small smile on your lips as Monoma shifts, being careful not to have you fall off his lap as he stares at your chest

☙ Inhaling, he goes forward, his face finally buried in your now-sweaty chest, wondering what he’s supposed to do next

☙ You basically somehow fucked all his thorough investigation and practice out of his head, how dare you

☙ Sighing, he plants a kiss on the skin before moving his head side to side, but quite slowly

☙ As if he were finding comfort in your chest rather than actually put effort in his revenge

☙ You open your eyes, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck as you pick up his weak attempts at a motor sound, humming to it as you rock back and forth

☙ And no, I don’t mean in a soothing manner, I mean in a ‘let’s go for round 4’

☙ Monoma whimpers, his head completely stopping as his hips snap up

☙ “Let me motorboat you- hnngh~”

☙ With a laugh and a “do it but I’m not stopping”, Monoma fails in correctly executing the perfect motorboat

☙ But who cares, it somewhat saved him from remembering how he easily forgets things when you fuck him, apparently

#۵; sin #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha fluff #bakugou fluff #aizawa smut #monoma smut #bakugou x reader #aizawa x reader #monoma x reader #𝖇𝖆𝖐𝖚𝖌𝖔𝖚 #𝖆𝖎𝖟𝖆𝖜𝖆 #𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖒𝖆 #✿; impurity

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snaxpo · 4 years

Text

i don’t think whatever conspiracy the game’s ending alludes to is the grumpinati per se, not just bc of the discussion abt the fanon surrounding it from a few days ago, but in my opinion i think it’d just be kinda anticlimactic. as zuhn’s said themself, bugsnax is a game where the characters are only ever half-right. having even one of them be 100% correct all along feels almost like too much payoff way too soon, if that makes any sense.

that said, i don’t think discarding the concept entirely is necessary.

imagine you’re stationed at some research outpost off the coast of this island with a couple other folks. there’s like, a worrying amount of lost civilizations there, and that’s weird, right? because even when a civilization collapses on its own, it’s rare that the actual people in it disappear - and the first settlers came long after those people were gone, so it’s not like they were the ones who wiped them out, and the wildlife seems perfectly benign. so what happened?

and then you find out the island is a parasitic colony organism that quiet literally feeds on the emotionally vulnerable.

you make it out just in time after finding out. not all of you, but enough to form some kind of plan. you think the first civilization established, by far the longest-lived, got by just fine giving their old and dying to the island at first, but eventually one of those things must’ve gotten hold of a younger, healthier, more volatile specimen, and the situation spiraled out of control from there. but that’s all an afterthought - what matters is what you’re going to do about it now.

you decide can’t tell anyone about this. sooner or later some idiot would try to make a tourist trap out of the place, not realizing how literal that title was. or maybe they’d try to sell the vermin there as pets, let them infest the outside world until the whole globe was bugsnax. or maybe they’d travel just for the thrill. far too risky.

after much deliberation, you reach a decision: in time, the outpost will be rebuilt. a new team will be sent in. the island seems sated for now, but you’ve seen how it moves - how it blinks and breathes, and how it lurches, as though trying to uproot itself from its fixed point in the ocean. there’s no telling what it’ll do if it gets hungry again and runs out of patience, and you don’t want to find out. so you get to work on setting up a second expedition, years from now.

some people try to quit. you don’t blame them, but there’s no way you can risk letting them go.

nobody comes back from the second expedition. it is a resounding success. you make plans for a third.

decades pass by, then a century, then two. you keep the numbers to a minimum, only sending a group in once reports of seismic activity start coming in again. each one gets a different cover story - a ritzy private yacht charter, a construction site for the next alcatraz, a raffle for a ghost tour. most often, it’s an expedition. you learn how to pick off people that’ll rouse the least suspicion - ones everyone expects to die soon for one reason or another, or ones that won’t be missed. not by anyone important, anyway. if you can get them from all over the globe, even better. there’s billions of people on the planet, and we only ever get 14 at a time, you tell yourself. the population will recover. in time, it will become just another urban legend. speaking of urban legends, they are immensely helpful. you take full advantage of them, use them to create imaginary enemies for any particularly sharp travelers that would cause problems later. you suppose in a way it’s still you, just donning a different mask. it’s always a carefully crafted caricature, meant to serve as a distraction, like a laser pointer. and in your defense, they almost always fall for it.

it gets easier as time goes on. you get more resources, more people willing to join the cause. not a lot of morally upstanding ones, but you’re basically dealing with a modern-day minotaur, so you know fully well that beggars can’t be choosers. it works.

there are arguments, of course. have been ever since the beginning - sending people to the slaughter unawares is unnecessarily cruel, they argue, and if they were really that dedicated to keeping the island satisfied then you should be willing to sacrifice yourself to it. they get shot down every time - maybe because there really is no other way, maybe because you don’t want to die, maybe because you just want to feel like you still have control over something that grew far beyond your grasp long ago. you don’t dwell on it.

sometimes one or two members manage to avoid assimilation. depending on how they react, you either make them disappear or you take them in as your own, let them join the ranks, and make plans to send in the next group a little earlier. you absorb them into yourselves. the similarities are not lost on you.

somehow, you never thought to have a contingency plan for when all of them survive.

#bugsnax #text post #this started as a speculation post and ended as a very pretentious short story #anyway i like the idea of an uber powerful secret organization secretly hanging on by a thread #headcanons #bugsnax spoilers

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kissinginkitchens · 3 years

Text

You Bring Me Home — Chapter One: Flightless Bird, American Mouth

a/n: I've been working on this story for mooonths now and I'm so excited to finally share it with the world! It's heavily inspired by Harry's Behind the Album mini doc, except I changed the setting to Hawai'i because I've personally spent some time there and as they say, write what you know! YBMH takes place in the period between One Direction's hiatus and Harry's first album/tour, but with that being said, this is entirely a work of fiction and some events don't follow the true timeline. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my little story, I hope you love it as much as I do! It will be updated every Friday at 5 PM PST. My inbox is open, so feel free to talk to me once you've finished reading! I'd love to hear from you :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 5.5k

May, 2016

Harry watches LAX get smaller through the airplane window and visualizes all of his worries stuck at the terminal gate, their magnitude also diminishing as he takes flight. He sinks lower in his seat and skims through playlists on his phone when a nagging feeling at the back of his mind pulls his attention away from the screen. Looking up from the song choices, he spots a cell phone quickly lowered from his line of vision and a girl with flushed cheeks who quickly averts her gaze. Harry shoots a tight-lipped smile in her direction and goes back to his phone with a sigh. The days when he could roam the streets freely without fear of recognition—or worse, harassment—feel like an entirely different lifetime. He sometimes imagines that he’ll wake up back in his childhood bed as if the past five years had all been a dream, but he never does. In fact, his privacy and anonymity seem to dwindle with each minute of radio play that One Direction receives. It’s a bittersweet pill to swallow, but one he hopes will go down easier with some time in the Hawaiian sun.

His close friend and new manager, Jeff Azoff, had suggested the vacation as soon as the band privately agreed to take a hiatus.

“You’ll go home for a few weeks,” his voice had crackled through the speakers of Harry’s phone. “Visit your mom and Gem, lay low for a while until the smoke blows over,”

Harry mulled it over in his mind, eyes flickering over the rolling landscape outside of the tour bus window.

“Then what?”

“Then you go for a little vacation. The label offered to cover a house in Hawaii so you can start working on the album,”

“Alone?”

Jeff chuckled lightly on the other end before responding. “I mean, if that’s what you want,”

“No,” Harry corrected. “You and Tom should come. Mitch and Bhasker, too,”

“The dream team,”

“And there’ll be a studio there?”

“Yes,” Jeff started, almost hesitant. “But I don’t want you to think about that too much,”

“But you said the label—"

“I also said vacation. Look, Rob said ‘it will all happen in due time,' did he not?”

Harry twisted the rose ring around his finger, tracing over the silver petals and thinking back to his conversation with the CEO of Sony Music, Rob Stringer. Upon the proposal of his debut solo album, Rob had told him that the most important ingredient for a successful debut would be patience. The singer had agreed in the moment, but every day not spent in the studio felt like a test he hadn’t studied hard enough for.

“Yeah.”

“So you take the free vacation,” Jeff suggested. “You go out, live, get some writing material. Maybe mess around with some tunes. And then we come back to L.A. and get to work. But until then, I just want you to focus on taking it easy.”

So take it easy he had. Or at least he had tried to when he was back home in England. Harry quickly grew restless after what felt like the millionth awkward conversation with past friends and acquaintances, all of which eventually led to the topic of One Direction and it’s unexpected hiatus. After one month at home, his mind and journal were full of ideas for songs, things that he wanted to say before he lost his nerve. One night as he tossed and turned in bed, he shot Jeff a text, just two words that would kick off a three month getaway to the Big Island of Hawai'i:

I’m ready.

********

“Sounds great, I'll go put in your order.” Alani offers sweetly, trying not to overdo it with the customer service voice. After waiting on the family at her designated table, she heads back to the kitchen and finds her younger sister, Pua, crouched in the corner taking what appears to be a serious phone call.

“I don’t know, I just saw it!” Her sister cries in a hushed tone. “Where do you think he’s going?”

“Is everything okay?” Alani cuts in with concern.

Pua whispers into the speaker before bringing the phone to her shoulder.

“Harry Styles was just spotted on a plane this morning,”

“Who?”

“The guy from One Direction,” her sister explains with a hint of irritation in her voice. “The band who sings that song you secretly like, ‘Fireproof,'”

Alani vaguely recalls the melody, but she waits expectantly for Pua to elaborate. “And this is news because…”

“Because the band just broke up, so where could he possibly be going?”

"The unemployment office?”

Pua rolls her eyes and returns to her phone call while Alani envelops her in a tight hug.

“I’m just kidding!” Alani apologizes, squeezing tighter despite her sister’s attempts to break free. “I’m sure he’ll be living off of royalty checks until he’s, like, eighty,”

“Get off me, freak!” Pua cries out, finally breaking the embrace.

Alani clutches her chest and pulls out an invisible knife. “Ouch. I’m telling Harry you said that,”

“This is exactly why I don’t tell you things.” the younger sister huffs, storming out of the kitchen through the employee entrance where Alani’s best friend, Maleah, has just arrived.

“Looks like someone forgot to eat their Cheerios today,” she remarks, tying her curls into a high ponytail.

Alani shrugs and leans against the counter. “She’s going through something. Just discovered that boys in pop bands are, in fact, just regular boys.”

“Poor thing,” Maleah frowns. “We all have to learn eventually.”

********

The sky is a blend of cotton candy pink and burnt orange when Alani returns home from the café with a strawberry smoothie in tow. She empties the mailbox and sorts through the various bills and advertisements, but her stomach drops when she sees a familiar return address label. After a quick greeting to her excited dog who waits at the door, Alani bolts up the stairs and quietly shuts the bedroom door behind her. Breathe, she reminds herself before tearing into the envelope and discarding it onto the wooden floor.

Dear Ms. Hale,

We are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine. However, we regret to inform you—

She doesn’t read the rest, slumping to the floor in defeat. The sixth rejection letter from Rolling Stone lies crumpled at Alani’s feet and she kicks it across the room with a frustrated grunt. She had worked for over two months perfecting her analysis of Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi and its allusions to the environmental impact of urban development in Hawaii. As part of her initial research, Alani had even traveled to both the Royal Hawaiian hotel in Honolulu, which is the famous Pink Hotel mentioned in the song, and Foster Botanical Garden that Mitchell referred to as “the tree museum.” She was certain that her effort and persistence would result in at least a consideration. The second third time's the charm! Maleah had joked watching Alani submit the piece. Six articles in the span of two years, each one facing the same rejection despite the increased effort Alani had put in over time. The fact that the rejection letter hadn’t changed over the course of the two years brings an incredulous smile to her face, and her stomach turns when she considers that the editors probably hadn’t even read her work, anyway. All that effort, she thinks to herself, all that time, for nothing.

“It will take time,” her favorite professor, Dr. Hudson, had reassured her three months after the Joni Mitchell article was submitted. “Every great writer faced countless rejection until that one piece. Yours will come. Keep your eyes open and your pen ready.”

Alani sighs and lifts herself off the floor, choosing to crawl into her unmade bed instead of slumping onto the hardwood. She hears a soft scratching at the door before her King Charles Spaniel, Freddie, pads into the room.

“Come here, bubs,” Alani whispers. He obeys and burrows into the duvet, giving her temple a gentle lick before nuzzling into the nape of her neck.

“You still love me, right?” she asks, voice cracking. “Even if I’m a failure?”

Freddie sniffs her ear in response.

********

“Right,” Harry says, his tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth as he reads the map. “No, left, sorry,”

“Do you actually know how to read a map?” Jeff teases, correcting the turn.

Harry pouts in response, his brows furrowing. “In my defense, we’re literally in the middle of fucking nowhere,”

“There are worse places to be,” Mitch pipes up from the back seat. “England, for example, where they say things like ‘litchrally’,”

“Very well said, Mitchell,” Jeff Bhasker adds with a fake British accent of his own.

Harry turns to his friends in the back seat with a finger pointed like an agitated mother. “If you lot don’t shut up, I’m gonna lead us to a volcano and push you in,”

“Where are we even going? I forgot,” Tom complains.

“To get food,” his manager responds from the driver’s seat. “I think,”

“Why can’t we just stop there?” Mitch asks pointing to a café pulling up on their right.

Jeff merges into the turning lane quickly without a second thought. “Good enough for me, I’m starving.”

“Sorry, H.” Mitch pats his friend on the shoulder.

Harry scoffs. “You’re the one who wanted poke.”

The Aloha Nui Loa Café is much more spacious than the exterior suggests, yet it still feels cozy. The walls are painted sage green and adorned with various local art pieces, as described by the plaques that accompany them. A skylight fills the center of the room with plenty of warm lighting, leaving the space along the walls in a bit more shade for an intimate feel. In one corner, a hanging disco ball leaves freckles of sparkling light along the walls where the sunlight hits, making the whole image very idyllic in Harry’s mind. As if he couldn’t enjoy the setting more, he hears the beginning of an Otis Redding song that he’s had stuck in his head drift through the restaurant speakers.

“Welcome in!” a voice calls, which pulls him from his survey of the room. His head whips to the source—a girl around his age with wavy, dark hair and honey skin. “For here or to go?”

Harry takes a hesitant step up to the counter. “For here,”

She smiles warmly and pulls some menus from under the counter. “How many in your party?”

“Five.”

“Great, follow me.”

Harry and his friends follow the waitress to the corner of the room under the disco ball and take their seats at the round table.

“My name is Alani,” she introduces herself, setting the menus down. “I’ll be serving you today. Can I get you started with some drinks?”

Harry continues scanning the restaurant while his group orders. His eyes land on the shirt that Alani is wearing, a white tee with the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey” in blue lettering that surrounds a picture of a cartoon bee.

“Harry,” Jeff says gently, catching his drifting attention.

The singer turns to his manager, who nods to Alani waiting with a pen pressed to her notepad. Harry feels a rush of embarrassment creep across his cheeks and he clears his throat to cover it.

“Just water,” he says, eyes glued to the menu. “Thanks.”

“You got it.” Alani nods, flashing a toothy grin at the rest of the group before turning back to the kitchen. Harry. Her mind repeats, finding a hint of familiarity, though she doesn’t know why.

When Alani arrives at the drink station, she finds her sister staring at her, mouth agape, while Maleah unsuccessfully conceals her laughter.

“What?” she questions, checking herself for any embarrassing stains or smells.

“You were—and he—” Pua stammers. “He was—and then he—”

“That’s Harry Styles,” Maleah translates, her voice hushed as she peers over her friend's shoulder.

Alani turns to steal a glance at the table she just seated, but Pua and Maleah latch onto her and shake their heads frantically.

“Don’t look!” her sister hisses.

Alani smirks, amused at their reactions. “No shit. That’s One Direction?”

Maleah snorts, clasping a hand over her mouth as Pua huffs. “No, dumbass! It’s just Harry. I don’t know who the other guys are,”

“But the blonde guy? That’s not—?”

“No!” Pua and Maleah giggle in unison.

“Okay, geez,” Alani relents. She manages to steal a quick glance at the table over her shoulder, immediately searching for Harry. Her eyes scan over the long, curly hair kept out of his face by a pair of white sunglasses that she had seen on Kurt Cobain once. All of his features are sharp and striking, from his pointed nose and defined jawline to the bright blue eyes. Or maybe they were grey? Alani wonders, trying to remember the exact shade. He doesn’t look anything like the fresh-faced teeny bopper she’d had in mind, the one from a music video her sister had shown her a long time ago. She would have never guessed that the What Makes You Beautiful singer had so much dark ink trailing down his bicep and forearm, though her knowledge of One Direction was very limited.

“What did he order?” Pua questions, her eyes wide.

Alani quickly snaps back to reality and resumes filling the drinks. “A water,”

“Oh my god,” Maleah swoons. “I’m never drinking anything else ever again,”

“I didn’t even know you liked him,” Alani teases with an eyebrow raised.

Maleah sneaks another peek at the table and catches her lower lip between her teeth. “I mean, I didn’t really think so either but look at him. What a fucking dream,”

Harry was objectively handsome, this Alani could admit, but she personally didn’t see the appeal and had a strong feeling that he was just like every other male celebrity. The fact that he hadn’t even bothered to make eye contact with her only served as further proof of what she knew to be true.

“Okay, well, your dreamboat is waiting for his water. So excuse me,” Alani winks, making her way back to the table.

The singer spots Alani returning out of the corner of his eye and the sight of her causes a strange flutter in the pit of his stomach that makes him want to duck for cover. Instead, he pulls his phone from his back pocket and pretends to be occupied with something on the screen.

“Okay,” she greets, setting the drink tray down. “I have a Blue Hawaii, a Mango Mama, two Loco Cocos, and a water,”

The group graciously accepts their drinks with a chorus of “thank you," but the only one under Alani’s scrutiny is Harry. He still doesn’t meet her almond eyes, and though she figured he wouldn’t, she can’t help the inkling of disappointment that washes over her. After taking their meal orders, Alani heads back to the kitchen, checking on her other customers along the way. Harry’s eyes follow her and he observes the way customers light up at her presence, indulging her conversation with laughter. He watches as she lingers by the jukebox in one corner of the room, a detail he had missed in his initial scan, and waits anxiously to see what song she chooses. Baby I’m-a Want You begins softly and Harry feels the corner of his lip curl ever so slightly. Good choice, he thinks.

********

“He’s still here,” Pua muses, peering through the tiny window in the kitchen door. It had been nearly two hours and the five men were still seated around their table cracking jokes and doing a lot of talking with their hands.

Alani doesn’t look up from her bowl of sliced kiwis, offering a hum in response. “And what do you want me to do about that?”

“Nothing,” Pua shoots back. “Don’t bother him,”

“What kind of girls do you think he’s into?” Maleah asks, attempting to peek through the window.

Alani shrugs, bored of the conversation and of thinking about Harry. “I don’t know, but I’ll bet he’s a real sucker for the ones who stalk him while he’s eating,”

“How does he make eating a salad look hot?”

“Can we talk about something else now?” Alani whines, poking holes in a lone kiwi with her fork.

Pua tosses a wet dish rag in her sister’s direction and cheers when it lands in her face. “Go see if he wants more water, he looks thirsty.”

“I already refilled it,” Alani defends. “Twenty minutes ago. I’ve refilled it a hundred times, I’m surprised he hasn’t peed his pants.”

I’m gonna piss myself. Harry thinks, his right leg bouncing to distract himself. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. Like clockwork, she would return to fill his glass almost as soon as the last drop had been drained, and so what began as a little experiment slowly turned into a bladder hazard. But if the trend was to be trusted, she would be back any minute and he wasn’t going to miss it; afterall, there were only so many ways to casually linger in a small café without making it weird. Unable to bear it any longer, he heads to the restroom and hopes that Alani doesn’t clear their table before he has a chance to see her again.

Harry pads down the back hallway with his eyes cast down at the floor, which proves to be a mistake when he walks directly into another person.

“Sorry!” they both apologize quickly, Harry’s palm taking purchase on the other person’s upper arm.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” he offers, finally meeting the dark, mocha eyes already looking back at him.

Alani presses her lips into a tight smile. “Me either,”

Harry’s heartbeat picks up when he realizes it’s her, and he isn’t aware of how close they’re standing until he detects the faint scent of kiwi on her breath. He takes a step back and rakes a hand through his hair.

“So I guess I’ll just—”

“Yeah, sure.”

Green. Alani notes to herself. His eyes are green.

********

Shortly after Harry returned from the restroom, him and his friends settled their bill and headed out. Alani cleared their table and her eyes nearly fell out of her head when she saw the hefty tip left behind. The word mahalo was also left behind on the receipt, underlined twice, and she wondered if it was his handwriting.

Later that night, she settled into bed with her laptop and hesitantly typed his name into Google. As she expected, countless articles about the split of One Direction emerged, most of them speculating what was next for each member. To her surprise, however, Harry’s name seemed to be mentioned more than his fellow bandmates as various sources labeled him “the next Justin Timberlake” and rising star of the group. Upon further investigation, she learned that the demand for information about the elusive Harry Styles was high, especially concerning any possible solo music. No news had yet been confirmed by Styles himself, nor anyone claiming to represent him, but she still wondered if his presence in Hawaii had anything to do with a possible solo project. Almost as soon as she thought it, Alani dismissed the theory in favor of the idea that he was most likely just taking a vacation. And from the buzz that she saw surrounding the news about One Direction, she couldn’t blame him.

The more Alani read, the more she wanted to know, and something deep down told her that his was a story worth telling. Of course, the only problem was that she had hardly talked to him, and there were only so many things she could say about the fifteen glasses of water he downed. There was no way of knowing if she would ever see him again, either, or if he was merely stopping in Hilo on his way to another island or somewhere else entirely. Alani sighed, thinking back to her most recent rejection from Rolling Stone. She knew that there was no possible way she would ever see or talk to Harry ever again, and even if she did, why would he bare his entire soul to a stranger? Still, she let her mind wander through the possibility.

Dear Ms. Hale, the letter would read, we are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine and are pleased to inform you that your piece on Harry Styles will be featured in next month’s issue. Additionally, we would be honored to have you on staff, effective immediately.

It was far-fetched, Alani knew this, but she dozed off that night with endless ideas swimming in her head.

********

By the third day after his visit, the only trace of Harry is in Alani’s search history. She would have completely forgotten about him if it weren’t for her sister’s constant reminiscing and multiple attempts to rename the house salad to the “Harry Special.” As a result, a part of Alani’s thoughts periodically linger back to that day and the subsequent hours spent on Google that she’d rationalized as research instead of stalking. Somehow the knowledge that she’ll never see him again only adds fuel to the questions still burning in her mind, but a customer clearing their throat while she sorts menus below the hostess podium interrupts her thoughts.

“Welcome in!” She calls, standing. “What can I—”

She stops in her tracks, unable to believe her eyes. Harry blinks and waits for her to continue.

“What can I get started for you?” Alani tries again, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her shock. Luckily for her, Harry had been too focused on choosing his next words to register her mistake.

“What’s in the Honu smoothie?” he asks, mentally kicking himself for asking such a stupid question when the menu just inches above her head clearly spells it out.

Alani hums, thinking back to the times she had made the smoothie herself. “Kiwis, spinach, mango, avocado, and a hint of lime,”

“I’ll take one of those,” Harry says, reaching for his wallet.

Alani punches in the order with trembling fingers and nods. “For here or to go?”

“To go,”

Disappointment fills her chest. Sure, she hadn’t planned on seeing him ever again, but the fact that she did felt like a sign. If she wanted to take the chance, she’d have to do it fast.

“Anything else?” she asks, weighing her options while he skims the menu.

“No thanks.”

Alani makes the smoothie quickly, head spinning. She had spent most of the night after their initial meeting planning out exactly the type of questions she hoped to ask him and what kind of article she would write. She was used to writing about what she knew—artists and music she’d admired for years— but she figured that starting fresh with someone she hardly knew would be a good challenge. Not to mention that it seemed like just the thing Rolling Stone would jump for. Alani finally works up the courage as she finishes his smoothie, but when she returns to hand it to him and hopefully strike up a conversation, his ear is pressed to his cell phone. She holds out the drink and he graciously accepts, giving her a small nod as a “thank you” and rushing out of the restaurant.

Two days later he returns and is seated at the counter, typing away on his phone. Alani feels both a rush of optimism and annoyance at the universe for dangling his presence so unexpectedly. She starts heading over to him, but Maleah cuts in.

“Trade me?” she proposes, eyes wide.

Alani blinks. “Oh, I would but I—”

“Please,” her best friend pouts. “I’m leaving to see my grandparents in stupid California for two months. Who knows when I’ll get the chance to see him again?”

Alani sighs, but gives in, reluctantly exchanging Harry for the family of four seated by the window. A strange feeling settles into the pit of his stomach when he sees that she heads in the opposite direction after a hushed conversation with another waitress. He doesn’t know why she traded him for a different customer, but he takes the hint.

A week goes by without another sighting of Harry and Alani has permanently taken on the role of greeting hostess in hopes of seeing him again. Her heartbeat temporarily speeds up when she sees a long haired customer approach the door, but her spirits quickly fall when the face doesn’t match his.

Another week brings another disappointing realization that Harry might be gone for good. One rainy morning when the restaurant is quiet and only two customers huddle together in a booth near the back, Alani hunches over the hostess podium and doodles on a stray receipt— a sunflower, a crescent moon, and two hearts. The bell above the door jingles but she doesn’t look up, too absorbed in her scribbles.

“Do you serve coffee?”

The familiar accented voice stops Alani’s pen dead in its tracks. She lifts her eyes first to confirm, and then straightens up when she sees that her ears haven’t deceived her.

“Yes,” she swallows.

“Great. I’ll take it to go,”

She slightly deflates, but Harry thinks he’s reading too much into it.

“Actually,” he corrects anyway, just in case he isn’t. “I think I’ll stay for a while,”

Alani flashes a warm smile and nods in the direction of the counter. “Right this way,”

Harry sheds his windbreaker onto the back of the seat, revealing a black and white Rolling Stones t-shirt that makes Alani’s blood pressure rise. A sign, she thinks.

“What do you want in your coffee?” she questions carefully.

“Nothing,” he responds, shaking out his damp hair gently. “Or actually, uh, butter...if you have some,”

Alani blinks, not sure if she’d heard correctly or if there had been some transatlantic miscommunication.

“Butter?”

“Yeah,”

“Like the—”

“Spread, yeah,” Harry confirms. “It’s weird, I know,”

She lets out a light-hearted laugh and nods. “It’s a...unique request,”

“I thought the same thing at first,” Harry confides. “It’s not bad, actually. But maybe I’ve just been in L.A. for too long.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

She offers a polite smile and heads to the kitchen where the cook and two other waiters talk amongst each other. Alani is grateful that the restaurant is slow this morning because she knows that it means minimal interruptions to her time with Harry. To ensure this, though, she asks one of the other waiters to cover the podium and returns to Harry with his coffee.

“One butter coffee, free of judgement,” the waitress announces, setting it down.

Harry grins softly, stirring the drink with the spoon Alani provided. “You can judge, it’s alright,”

“I just wanna know why,”

The coffee had been part of a fad diet while on tour in order to boost Harry’s energy on stage and stay trim for the hundreds of photo-ops he would be a part of. He doesn’t know how to communicate all of this to Alani, however, not sure how much she knows about that part of him, so he shrugs and tells a simplified version of the truth.

“I read about this trend a while back, it's called bulletproof coffee. Supposed to get your energy up and I needed it for my job,”

“Which is…” Alani trails off, downplaying the knowledge that she had acquired from Google.

“I make music,” is all Harry says and he takes a sip of the drink to avoid elaborating.

“Anything I would have heard?”

He swallows hard and listens to the faint rumbling of thunder outside before replying. “Possibly,”

“Try me,” Alani challenges.

He narrows his eyes and takes another sip of coffee. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself first?”

“What do you wanna know?”

Everything, Harry responds internally, though he reigns it in. “How you got into waitressing,”

Alani sighs, resting her elbows on the counter across from him. “There’s not much to tell, it’s a family business. What I really wanna do is write,”

“Music?”

“Articles. I’m studying Journalism at UH,”

Harry hums in response, filing the detail away in the back of his mind. “Sounds interesting. You ever publish anything?”

“Not yet,” Alani shakes her head gently, toying with the sleeves of her green University of Hawaii crewneck. “Hopefully soon, though,”

Harry racks his brain for something else to say, but before he can, Alani speaks up again.

“Is it my turn to ask something now?”

He offers a curt nod and stirs his coffee.

“What kind of music do you write?”

Harry chooses to be vague again. “Different stuff. Pop, usually. Been messing with some classic rock, though,”

“Explains the shirt,”

He peers down at the design on his tee and agrees. “Yeah, I guess so,”

“Do you like it?” Alani asks, her eyes begging to make contact with his again. “Writing music, I mean,”

“Yeah,” Harry confirms, tapping his spoon against the rim of the mug. “I really do,”

Alani’s heart pounds. This is her chance, a moment to finally secure her breakthrough piece. She doesn’t know how to approach it, so she opts to dive right in without looking back. The worst he can say is no.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“That’s cheating,” Harry teases lightly. “It's my turn,”

She pouts playfully, but obliges. “Fire away,”

Harry doesn’t know which question to ask first, but when he glances down at the crescent moon inked on her wrist, he decides to start there.

“What’s with the moon tattoo?”

Alani isn’t sure what she expected him to ask and wonders what purpose such a detail could possibly serve him, but she answers anyway.

“Oh, well,” she begins, tracing her index finger over the outline. “It’s kinda the meaning of my full name. It’s Mahealani, Hawaiian for ‘heavenly moon,'”

Fitting, Harry comments to himself. Every detail he learns about her makes him want to learn that much more, from her favorite foods to the last thing she thinks about before falling asleep. Studying her expectant eyes, he suddenly remembers that it’s his turn to respond.

“That’s cool,” is all he says.

Alani doesn’t know what to make of the faraway look in his eye, but she decides to pose her most burning question while he appears to be in good spirits.

“I know this is gonna sound totally out of the blue,” she starts, working past the lump in her throat. “But when you mentioned how you write music, I was just reminded of this assignment I’m working on in my class,”

Harry waits for her to continue, nursing his now lukewarm coffee.

“I’m supposed to write a piece about someone who I don’t know that well,” she continues. “You know, to practice our interviewing skills. And, well, I was just kind of wondering if you might be interested in helping me out—being the subject, I mean,”

Alani had every intention of telling Harry the truth, about how she really planned to submit the article to Rolling Stone in hopes of securing an internship before her college graduation next Spring. But as she started speaking, she quickly realized how it would come off: a complete stranger asking for personal information to submit to a well-known publication. She knew that there was a chance he would shut down and never return, so she lowered the stakes and hoped that this route would be less risky. Was it ethical? Alani hadn’t decided yet, but she would work out the details later. After six failed articles and two years of rejection, she saw a ray of hope and wasn’t going to let it slip away.

Harry ponders her offer for a moment, which confirms that she had recognized him. Normally he would be off-put by such a request, and to a certain extent he is, but there is something sincere in her voice that he trusts deep down. Before he agrees, however, he decides to fish around a bit to test her reaction.

“You know who I am,” he says gently. “Don’t you?”

Alani’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach, not sure what to say next. She hopes with every fiber of her being that she hasn’t upset him, or worse, ruined her chances, so she decides to offer some truth to throw him off her scent.

“My sister recognized you,” she explains. “That day you came in with your friends. I thought they were your bandmates at first,”

This lets Harry know that she isn’t a total stalker, which is comforting, but he wouldn’t have been minded if she were a fan simply engaging in conversation.

“Oh,” he laughs weakly.

“I totally understand if you say no,” Alani offers quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I just thought it was worth a shot. And that it might be more interesting than interviewing our produce guy,”

Harry decides to give her one last scan for any sign of insincerity. He’d always felt that his gut instinct was strong and it hadn’t led him astray thus far.

“An interview?” he clarifies.

“Just one,” Alani promises. “An hour, tops. And you can proofread all of it once I’ve finished, too.”

Harry waits a beat, already knowing his reply, but he wants to see how she will react to his silence. She doesn’t budge, almond eyes set and determined.

“Okay.”

next chapter

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles x oc #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #ybmh #she's here she's here she's here!!!!!

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avengerscompound · 4 years

Text

Until the End of the World - 17

Until the End of the World: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 1627

Rating: E

Warnings: a little self doubt, canon typical violence

Synopsis: Four years after Steve and Bucky got to the bottom of the HYDRA conspiracy that had led to you and your son being hunted for the first three years of his life, you, Bucky, and Steve have carved out a nice life together. Things are calm and you feel like a family unit. When Geo starts calling Bucky and Steve ‘dad’, a decision is made to try and add to your family.

Things aren’t as calm as they seem. When your pregnancy hits the papers, HYDRA rears its head once again, and Steve and Bucky need to track you down to protect the family they had created

Chapter 17

“Sir,” FRIDAY said. “I think… I think Geo is sending us a message.”

The uncertainty of the AI’s voice was what really made Steve pay attention. Given that she was a computer, she never had any uncertainty when she made a statement. All her statements were made based on thousands of algorithms assessing everything at once. Yet here she was - facing an undeniable SOS sent down the powerlines - unsure of what she was saying.

“What’s happening, FRIDAY?” Steve asked.

“These surges are coming from the outside, something is pushing the grid to feed us power. I thought it was just a supply issue so I was following it back to the source assuming it would go to a power station. Instead, it’s going below us.”

“What?” Steve said.

“I know, Captain,” FRIDAY said. “And then the SOS just now. I’m sure it must be him. He’s being kept in some facility underground.”

Steve strode to the door, gesturing for Bucky to follow. “Can you figure out exactly where?”

“I’m working on it,” FRIDAY answered.

Steve rode the elevator up with Bucky his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted this to be it. He had to find you because all this was his fault and if his lack of foresight meant that you were hurt or worse, dead, he would never forgive himself.

He blamed himself completely for not being more diligent. Of course, HYDRA had come back. Of course, they’d remembered you were something special. Steve had a policy of not killing people unless there was no choice. Of course, people died at his hand in battle and he had to live with that, but he wasn’t an executioner.

This was the first time he’d ever regretted that. He wished he’d killed Viper when he had the chance. If she had gone, then so would have everyone with any power that would remember who you were. His morals had been the exact reason that his girlfriend and his children were in danger, and what was the point of morals if they meant the people who deserved it least got hurt?

The elevator opened into the command room and he strode in. Tony turned around looking flustered. “I’m working on it,” he said before Steve had a chance to say anything. “This is tricky. What Geo can do… it shouldn’t be possible. The things he communicates with - they don’t have any sort of intelligence half the time. Yet he can convince them in a way that implies they must.”

“You’re sure it’s him though and not someone trying to draw us out into a confrontation,” Steve asked.

Tony shook his head. “It’s him. I can’t even do what he just did. There is a clear path down to a place where there is no power supply.”

“Can we follow it?” Steve asked.

Tony nodded and projected what was the start of a map and overlaid it on the current maps from urban services and surveyors that included service tunnels, subway systems, and sewer pipes. As he looked it over new sections seemed to be added deeper down and others seemed to be overlaid.

“Is this it?” Steve asked.

“I’d say so,” Tony said. “Just trying to find a way in.”

Steve paced. He wanted to go. The longer he had to wait the more likely you would be hurt. Bucky grabbed his wrist as he passed and Steve stopped and looked at him.

“There,” Bucky said, pointing at the screen.

“What are you seeing, Freezer Burn?” Tony asked, putting his blue blocker glasses on and tilting his head.

Bucky approached the screen. “That’s where the Waldorf Astoria is right?” He said as he indicated a subway line that had been marked as closed on the map.

“Right,” Tony said.

“That track used to be used to go from Grand Central to the Waldorf, specifically for their VIP guests. You remember when they opened it, Stevie? General Pershing rode it?” Bucky said.

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Steve said.

“How can you remember that and not killing Kennedy?” Tony snarked.

“Who says I can’t remember killing Kennedy?” Bucky deadpanned.

“Can we squabble later?” Steve asked, getting frustrated by how slow they were discussing this. “What’s your point, Bucky?”

“It’s accessible by a service elevator from the Waldorf. Which is on the route between here and Geo’s school,” Bucky explained. “If they parked under the hotel, that would explain why the van vanished so fast, and then they could just get them down to that track unseen. And as it’s abandoned they could have used it for construction and it gone by completely unnoticed.”

“But the Waldorf is valet parking,” Tony said. “How would they hide two unconscious people from the valet?”

“Maybe they had someone on the inside?” Steve suggested.

“Or perhaps they accessed it from the private parking for the Towers of the Waldorf. They have their own private access to the parking garage,” FRIDAY suggested.

Tony looked at Steve. “Go. I’ll assemble the team,” he said. “FRIDAY get the Legion to focus their scans on that abandoned tunnel. We need an access point.”

Steve and Bucky took the elevator to the armory. Steve hadn’t changed since you were taken so he just pulled on the upper part of his uniform, and grabbed the shield. It took Bucky a little longer to get suited up, but when he was done he not only had his armor on but several different guns and knives packed onto his person.

The two took the stairs to the street. As well as the adrenaline that was coursing through his system, Steve felt frustrated and angry. HYDRA hand managed to build an underground facility immediately under his nose. Grand Central Station shared the block with the Avengers Tower. They couldn’t have been closer if they’d just set up shop in its basement.

The paparazzi started calling out to them and taking their photos as soon as they ran out into the street and many people who had just been walking along experiencing a normal day in the city stopped to gawk at the two Avengers as they ran down the street. They charged into the entrance of the railway station.

“Excuse me, pardon me, coming through,” he shouted as he wove in and out of the people heading down into the large open concourse with its domed ceiling with the celestial mural in gold and turquoise.

“This way,” Bucky said, pointing to the left. “We’ll have to cross over from track 42.”

Steve nodded and followed. They ran down the platform, past the trains waiting, and onto the tracks. “Cap!” A porter yelled out. “You can’t go down there.”

“I need you to keep the tracks clear. This is Avengers business!” Steve yelled back.

“We found what seems to be a tunnel,” Tony’s voice crackled over the comms. “It’s on track 61. FRIDAY will let you know when you’re near the entrance.”

Steve didn’t need FRIDAY’s help in the end. The entrance was obvious. Among the waste and abandoned train carts along the track was a large opening that went down under it all. It was roughly hewn and reminded Steve of an old mine. He and Bucky were just about to head down into it when the sound of jets echoed off the walls and they were joined by Rhodey and several of the Iron Legion. “Cap,” Rhodey said, landing beside them. “Tony found another entrance, down at the Canal Street station. That looks like the main entrance and the one that they did most of the work from. There’s a bunch of construction on the tracks down there and it’s possible they just blended in with the official stuff.”

“Thanks, Rhodey,” Steve said. “You ready?”

“Always,” Rhodey answered, his visor closing again.

They made their way down the tunnel, Rhodey and the legion flying behind as Steve and Bucky ran down into the bowels of the earth. As they got deeper down, the rough temporary look of the tunnel began to look more complete, until they were standing behind a door that looked like it was made of thick metal.

“Looks like if we ever had an element of surprise, we’re about to lose it,” Steve said, as he assessed the door.

“That’s if we had it,” Rhodey said. “Stand back, the longer it takes us to find them, the higher the chance they’ll slip out some secret entrance.”

Bucky and Steve backed up and Rhodey aimed his arm at the door. A laser burst out from an eye on his wrist and carved through the thick metal. It took around a minute before he’d cut all the way through. The alarms started sounding before the door even hit the ground. A group of HYDRA stormed out from one of the rooms and the Iron Legion flew past Steve’s head and began to fight.

Just as Steve was about to join the fray the alarms stopped again. Steve looked at Bucky who had his gun raised. “Geo?” He asked.

“Geo,” Bucky agreed.

Steve ran in, joining the fray as they took down the guards. When no more came, they ran down the hall and it split off into various paths. Steve looked at Rhodey. “We should split up. Cover more ground.”

“Agreed. I’ll take a few of the Legion this way,” he said pointing down the middle. Steve nodded and Rhodey took off.

“Stay safe, Buck,” Steve said.

“You too,” Bucky said before running down another hall with some of the Legion in tow. Steve took a breath and looked at the remaining paths. He gestured for the remaining Legion down two and took off after the last one, hoping that that would be the one that brought him to you.

// NEXT

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #until the end of the world

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shoichee · 4 years

Note

So...👉🏼👈🏼 Could you make a headcannon of ( any characters u want ) reacting to their crush, reader. Being the leader and main dancer in the dance club? Like this...

The characters were walking down hallways while having an conversation ( or arguing?). Then, suddenly they hear a music and see their crush, a beatiful but confident female, practicing the coreo with all her club a dance that they would show the whole school during the lunch. If not, then thank you for at least reading my request.

By;; One of your fans and, of course, readers.

hello, my anon! thank you so much for reading my stuff and supporting me <33 without further ado... here are some long headcanons!

[Dancer f!reader]

Kuroko Tetsuya

he usually hangs out with the Seirin basketball team, where they would all often hide behind the hallway corners to eavesdrop on Riko’s and Hyuga’s next plans for training camps

as they all (not so quietly) trailed after the coach-captain duo down the hallway for them to turn left, Kuroko hears a soft orchestral sound coming from the right turn of said hall

his teammates were too rowdy to even discern the tune in the first place and they only cared to find out where their next torture session would be at, so they all took the left hallway

but Kuroko knew that sound from anywhere… after all that’s all you’ve been practicing to for the past month during breaks and after school

this was one of the few occasions he was glad that he had no presence, because he easily slipped away from his friends to find the source of the melody and to find you in particular

he wordlessly tracks down to your practice room, all the while having his head completely in the clouds… though his face was as stony as ever and gave no sign of his lovestruck affliction

the doors were obviously closed but he could still peep into the room through its windows, and there you were, enveloped in sheer tulle and a natural glow of an experienced performer

you were so completely engrossed into your pirouettes that Kuroko, despite seeing your solo routine alone together after school, can’t help but have sparkles in his eyes as he fixates on your passion and form

his mind drifts to the time he first met you after a home game, and he saw you approaching Riko to congratulate her on a preliminary win before you actually noticed Kuroko and directly praised him for his assisting skills as well

and boy was he SHOOK, he faltered a bit before he managed out a polite “thank you”

it was probably attraction at first sight, he’ll admit, but he actually started to fall for you when you would always come to the home games to support Riko (you unfortunately couldn’t come to away games because of your schedule as a club leader for dance), and pretty soon, you got to chat with a few of the Seirin players as well (including Kuroko)

you knew what you wanted to do for your career and you had everything set out and planned, and Kuroko found that really admirable

someone with a cool head, powerful aura, and charisma kind of reminded him of Akashi and he was here for it

and then he completely fell head over heels when he saw you dancing for the first time during club rush week at the beginning of his 2nd year… it was the way your gaze was so focused, and nothing else mattered to you except the performance, similar to how the Generation of Miracles would enter into the zone—

“Tetsuya?”

“A-ah..”

he didn’t realize that he completely zoned out (pun not intended) because it looks like your club was already done with dress rehearsal, and everyone else was beginning to pack up; you were standing right in front of him, holding the door open

“Sorry, am I in the way, (y/n)-san?”

“Naw, don’t worry,” you said. “Just saw you standing there and I was wondering if you needed something from me.”

yes, he wanted you to reciprocate his feelings, as selfish as he knew it was

“Nothing. Just heard something familiar and stopped by to see.”

“That’s very typical of you,” you chuckled. “Say, are you going to watch our showcase during lunch in a few hours?”

“The showcase advertised all over the bulletin, right?”

“Yeah.”

ah, that’s right, your club was planning to do a free showcase preview during lunch in the auditorium to advertise your ballet recital in a week

“Yeah, I’ll be there to cheer you on this time.”

“Pffftt, you’re too serious,” you laughed, ruffling his hair. Kuroko would normally be irked at the action, but with you, your touch was comforting. “I don’t mind coming to your games, I come for fun, and I don’t think of them as obligations. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I know most find ballet pretty dull—”

“I want to go, though. I don’t find it boring, (y/n)-san,” Kuroko said with a smile

your eyes widened as your hand in his hair stilled

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Since when were you into ballet?” you hummed, clearly meant to tease him in good fun, and you started to ruffle through his hair again

“Ever since I fell for you.”

Kise Ryota

Kise, even though being an idol-figure himself, is a fanboy of many idol groups and bands

he’s always looked for you during breaks, knowing you’d be in the dance room to practice with your small group of members

why? well, he wants to see you dance, especially when your club does dance covers of other prominent idols

he’s tried (emphasis on tried) to ditch practice once in a while to go see you in your element, even if it’ll always end up with him being pulverized by Kasamatsu himself

this time though, when he heard that your club was going to cover some big-hit performances during the schoolwide pep rally during lunch, he couldn’t resist the urge to get a “sneak peek”

he basically RAN down the hallway, blatantly ignoring the warnings the teachers gave down the aisle, to escape Kasamatsu and to get to you as soon as he could so he could have more time to watch

as he ran closer, his ears register the very familiar hip hop, urban, and pop songs emanating from the room

“(Y/n)-cchi!!!”

“Kise? What are you even doing here?”

“I came to watch your practice—”

“But you always do,” you sighed, crossing your arms in mild annoyance. “Besides, you’re going to see the exact choreography at the rally anyways. Don’t you already know the choreo yourself? Aren’t you a fan of these groups?”

“But I won’t be able to see you up close like thiiiiis,” Kise whines. “You’re always so cool when you dance, is it so wrong that I always want to see you dance?”

there was his signature puppy eyes that would normally make most girls weak in their knees

“I’m flattered,” you deadpanned, managing to stare down at Kise even though he was much taller than you. “But you’re cutting into our time right now, so you should either leave or sit quietly like a good boy and keep it shush.”

“Sheesh, so demanding…” he pouted, but nonetheless reluctantly sat himself on the chair like a petulant child

his petty anger quickly dissipates when your club got into position, with you at the center, and started the entire routine

even though everyone was just lipsyncing to the songs as they performed the dance covers back to back, he really thought everyone, especially you, embodied the essence of a real idol group

you had the aura, energy, passion, and charisma of an idol leader… not to mention the looks

Kise honestly saw you as his ultimate role model and idol, if he was going to be honest

to outsiders, it genuinely looked like you and Kise didn’t get along, but it couldn’t be further from the truth

okay, yes, maybe your first impressions on him weren’t that great

Kise first laid eyes on you when your recently new club performed for the first time at a talent show to promote for more members the following year, and he asked Moriyama if he knew who you were

“Right?? (Y/n)-san is cute! But don’t go near her—”

“Relax, Moriyama-senpai, I was just curious.”

and he started seeing your face popped up more around school, and your name being brought up more frequently among students (particularly his fangirls, who envy and admire you for different reasons)

you apparently started the club yourself (like Teppei with Seirin’s basketball team)

he was then intrigued and wanted to judge you for himself… and that’s when he started to show up to your room after practice to annoy you or would bump into you in the hallways

you, not wanting to deal with his shit, told him off in front of everyone

as much as Kise was shocked out of his wits, he couldn’t believe anyone had the balls to say that while risking their reputation… even Kasamatsu wasn’t THAT confrontational

he fell for you… HARD

he visits you DURING practice from that point on and while you hated it at first and tried to scare him away, he was just too stubborn

so you let him be

and you eventually learned that Kise was surprisingly dependable

he’d always insist on walking you home after practice

while you are still wary of him sometimes, you no longer find him completely unbearable… except when Kise would make it a huge deal to cheer your name OUT LOUD in the audience every time you performed, which was BEYOND embarrassing and headache-inducing

“Wow… I can’t believe you haven’t auditioned for an idol label yet, (y/n)-cchi,” Kise thought… more like he accidentally slipped out

but hypothetically, if you did pass an audition, he wouldn’t be able to get to see you as much anymore…

by now, your club was wrapping up practice and you came over to Kise to whack his head

“I told you to keep it shush, didn’t I?”

“You’re so mean! Your practice is done, isn’t it?!”

“You think I’m going to audition for a company?” you scoffed, but nonetheless mirth danced across your eyes; you knew he was trying to change the subject

“It was just a stray thought,” he mumbled, averting his eyes while pouting

“Really now,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “If I really did become one, I wouldn’t have much time to be here, now wouldn’t I?”

“(Y/n)-cchi! Are you saying that you…”

“On second thought, even if I’d miss class so much, I can at least avoid you and your incessant shouting.”

“Wha—! You’re so cruel—!”

“I’m joking, Kise.”

“(Y/n)-cchiiiiiii!” he fake-cries as he tries to glomp on your figure, only for you to expertly sidestep his lunge

“You better not scream out during the pep rally.”

spoiler alert: he, indeed, kept shouting out your name at the volume of a thousand decibels like a true fanboy during lunch

Kasamatsu Yukio

“I do not like (y/n)-san in that way!”

typical Kaijo team dynamics: during practice, everyone obeys the captain side of Kasamatsu without question, but outside of basketball? everyone picks on him the most

“Sure, sure, senpai,” Kise would often say, with Moriyama giving him consoling shoulder pats

“Screw off, or I’m giving you 5 extra drill runs—”

“Look, look, he’s turning red! He’s turning red!”

needless to say, the hallways were filled with a huge ruckus of chattering and shouts over Kasamatsu’s “problem,” aka you

he never saw you in that light

or at least… he used to not see you in that way

he admired your leadership skills; you were reputed across the school as the leader of the most coordinated group of performers who would travel to other cities to perform on televised festivals, local outdoor shows, and competitions

he would often hear your spartan-like commands to other performers outside, like “you three are off beat on 1, when you should be on the and of 2!″ and “your formations are too cluttered, spread out!”

sometimes, your group borrowed the gym because it’s much more spacious to practice in, and that’s where he REALLY saw you being a leader and a performer

if the Kaijo basketball team was the cream of the crop of all sports clubs, then the Kaijo performance group was the cream of the crop for all visual and performing arts

the group performed in all styles of dance, from traditional to modern and contemporary, and the fact that you seemed to know what to do on every new stage gave him motivation to do more as a captain to not “get left behind” for a lack of better term

he respected you like how he would respect Hyuga, Kuroko, and Kagami, but he never saw you as a “girl”

which was why he was able to talk to you normally and become good mutuals so easily

it’s the way you talked about your interests so passionately, it just made it really relatable and easy to strike up conversation with you, because you and him are similar in so many ways

well… that was… until his own teammates noticed and kept pestering him about the fact that you were a “girl” and that it was strange that he talked to you normally

so now he couldn’t undo his perspective of you, and he became HYPER AWARE of everything about you

so now he was noticing your mannerisms, your habits when you were idly thinking, the way your costumes and attire clinged to your figure or the way the stage makeup accentuated your features… the little things like that just really cemented the fact that you were not just “a dude”

“Drop it already,” Kasamatsu said, glaring at his teammates, who already looked like they’re in tears of laughter

Kise, even through the teasing, wanted the best for Kasamatsu, so he insisted he should just confess

and Kasamatsu is denying to his dying breath how he doesn’t see you that way

here these two are, going back and forth until it escalated into an argument after Kise insults him for being a coward

the rest of the teammates had to pull the two of them off each other so they could both cool their heads off

and Kasamatsu is stalking off alone in the halls, fist and teeth clenching as he figures out how to destroy Kise at practice after school… until he heard a faint oriental-sounding instrumental, and he immediately knew you were near

so he runs to the source of the sound… only to see you practicing alone in an empty club room, which is odd, since you normally practice with everyone

he’s too shy to do anything other than to look at you through the door window, being completely red when he’s, yet again, aware of how your body moved

all of the sudden, you stopped and frowned at yourself and sighed

was there something wrong?

you would never make a harsh expression, unless it was for the sake of acting when you danced, since you were normally so put-together

the want to help you overcome your troubles overrides his self-consciousness of this “crush” of his

“(Y/n)-san,” Kasamatsu called out, letting himself in after announcing his presence

“Kasamatsu? What brings you here?”

“Heard something… so uh,” he paused. “I came to check it out, but it seems like you’re troubled. Is there anything I can… do to help?”

“Ah…” you started. “We have to board the bus soon for a competition during lunch. It’s going to be televised everywhere too… I just want to get some last-minute practice, so nothing goes wrong…”

“I admire you alot,” Kasamatsu said seriously. “You inspire me to keep working harder.”

“Huh?”

“But try not to overwork yourself, your members will definitely notice if their leader is off their game,” Kasamatsu said. “I would know from experience.”

“Are you trying to cheer me up?” you laughed, to which Kasamatsu doesn’t fail to notice

“W-w-well, that’s—”

“Thank you, Kasamatsu,” you smiled. “Hearing your advice makes me want to ace this and make sure our performance will take the win.”

“Y-yeah…” he said, stretching his neck and shoulders out of nervousness

“Make sure you tune into our performance live during lunch, okay?” you leaned towards him playfully with your hands behind your back. “I’d be really happy if I knew you were there supporting me.”

“Y-yeah…”

#ask #anon #knb #kuroko no basket #kuroko x reader #kuroko tetsuya #kuroko tetsuya x reader #kise x reader #kise ryota #kise ryota x reader #kise ryouta #kasamatsu #kasamatsu yukio #kasamatsu x reader #kasamatsu yukio x reader #knb headcanons #knb scenarios

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stxleslyds · 3 years

Text

MY TOUGHTS ON PART FOUR OF RED HOOD BY CHIP ZDARSKY :)

THIS ONE IS A MESS.

But first a little rant about my feelings about Red Hood in general at the moment.

I am not going to lie, it took me a long time to read this comic, I am kind of tired of reading this book, I feel like I lower my expectations each issue that passes by and I still get disappointed at the result.

Maybe I just love a Jason Todd that is no more and I have to accept the one we have now, but here is the thing, if this is what we get then I just don’t like it, and on rough days I hate it. These are very negative thoughts about one of the two DC characters that I love and I don’t enjoy having them, I don’t want DC to keep giving us this version of Jason or these versions of Jason, each time they change little things that just change the character from the one that he once was even more.

I feel a bit defeated about it and I don’t know, on one side I want to fight and scream so they can finally give Jason the characterization he deserves and for them to give up the bland formula they have going on with him and on the other side I just want them to stop, stop writing Jason Todd/Red Hood and that is so sad, imagine loving a character and wanting the publisher to stop making content with them because what they give is just terrible. I don’t know, this is a rant that I felt like writing before I read the issue (I did skimm it briefly), so don’t take this as part of the review, its just me explaining my feelings right now.

Anyway, I will start the review now, sorry for the rant.

Wonderful, this book is on crack (or should I say Cheerdrops?), the thing with this particular issue is that I had a great laugh, it’s funny but in a good way, it's stupid and it kind of doesn’t make sense, the only way to describe Zdarsky’s writing here is with a phrase that we say here in my country “se pisa el palito”, which means that he lies about something and after some time he reveals the truth himself by mistake or because he got confused, in this case Zdarsky makes Jason say something like “this time I have come prepared” but he is actually not prepared at all and like two pages later (within the same scene) he has Jason call himself an amateur, it's very weird and to me it translates to Zdarsky not liking Jason or just not caring about him at all.

And that sucks and it really bothers me. As I have said before this anthologies book might be called Batman: Urban Legends but the particular story I am reading is a RED HOOD one, I am not here for Batman content, I am here for Jason Todd content.

The fact that we are not getting a Jason-specific story in a Red Hood book is killing me, it would suck if we get, let’s say, a Nightwing book and its all about his relationship with Barbara…That is not a Nightwing book, that’s a Nightwing and (fake) Oracle book.

Anyway, this issue in general is like a connector, the things that happen are all happening because they will be developed in the next issues but what is said here is absolutely absurd so I will be talking about that.

This issue starts with a flashback and Jason from the present (who is currently a popsicle because he fell in Freeze’s trap) having a monologue. The flashback is set when Jason finds out that his birth mother is alive and is being used by the Joker so he (in civilian clothes) and Batman at doing some reckon. What I want to dive into is the monologue because it's interesting but also very dumb so here we go.

“What was I supposed to do? I thought I was an orphan; I carried that sadness and anger everywhere I went and then I found the woman who gave birth to me halfway across the world. I found her…and the Joker. He was blackmailing my mother, forcing her to help him steal medical supplies, which he replaced with a deadly gas, that was being hauled to a village.”

“Batman knew what he had to do. Save people, forever saving people. Batman has always been a master of control, every situation, everyone around him. He’s always known just how to handle everything. Until I came along.”

“How could he be surprised? How could the great Batman not know? I wouldn’t listen to him and he couldn’t hear me. And the fucking cycle continues.”

The first part of the monologue is pretty simple it's basically setting the scene in time and space for the reader and it also gives us a little insight on how Jason was feeling at the time which was quite nice. It sets up the fact that Jason wanted to help his birth mother out of a horrible situation, he wanted to save her from the Joker. (Hear that DC, haters and fanon, Jason was a good Robin and a loving and caring son!!!!!)

In the second paragraph of the monologue I would have assumed that Dick never existed in this universe because the idea of Batman being able to control Robin!Dick or Gotham back in the day by himself is incredibly funny to me but because Dick exists and has been mentioned in this story already I will just take it as Zdarsky wanting to really push the “Jason could never reach the level of good Robin because he was reckless and nothing like Dick” and the “Dick was always completely obedient and Batman’s perfect little soldier” narratives. It sucks man, this is like bad fanon made real and I don’t like it!

During this part we also have a little dialogue between Batman and Jason where the narrative of Jason being so incredibly reckless is explicitly shown once more.

Let me repeat myself, Jason didn’t take on the Joker because he wanted to prove himself to the Bat or to prove that he was as good a Robin as Dick was, Jason did what he did because he wanted to save the last person that he had that he felt was family, he wanted to save the woman who birthed him and that he was hoping he could call a mother. He worried and cared for this woman and then he was betrayed and it ended up ending with him dying at the hands of a mad man that to this day is still alive.

Jason wasn’t reckless for the sake of being reckless, he took the decisions he took because he didn’t feel heard by the man that was supposed to protect him and care for him, a man that had the same feelings of sadness over being an orphan, a man that despite being the greatest detective to ever detective in the multiverse couldn’t understand that Jason felt like the woman that was his birth mother could come first in his list of priorities. Jason was a child and the adult responsible of him at the time bares the fault of his death as much as the mad man that committed the crime.

There, I fucking said it.

Gladly in the third paragraph of the monologue Jason calls out Bruce on his bullshit.

Also, what the hell was Bruce thinking leaving Jason stranded in the middle of the dessert, the man literally takes the only mode of transportation away from him. What the hell.

That’s it for the first glimpse at the past, now we are in the present with Ice!Jason where Zdarsky lies to our faces, he says that Jason is prepared for this situation…I am sorry but I do not believe this.

Anyway, Jason does manage to break the ice but he trips on the iced floor almost as soon as he breaks free and falls in a hole. Are you kidding me? I know this is supposed to be funny but Jason has been written as this incompetent dumbass in this book so much that this is just insulting.

He manages to escape for three or four seconds but he realises once more that the whole thing was a trap because Freeze had actually closed all the exists with ice because he meant to trap the Bat (also maybe Freeze is under the effects of Cheerdrops?), Jason also tries to use his guns even though he had already thought about the fact that they wouldn’t fire because of the cold AND he didn’t pack his explosives, yeah… “I am now prepared”, sure Jan.

The last thing we see in this scene is Freeze getting ready to ice Red Hood once more before we start jumping from past to present scenes as Jason’s monologue continues, he does that a lot in this issue, it’s quite impressive.

We jump into the past and we see Jason going to help his mother in his Robin suit, her betrayal and the Joker being ready to torture and kill a child. From there we go back to the present where Jason manages to ask Oracle for help but not anyone’s he asks for the Batman’s help.

First let’s talk about the monologue that happens across these scenes because it has some interesting takes.

“Stupid amateur, its not going to be okay, not if we keep repeating the same mistakes. He never trusted me, I never trusted him. Neither of us lived up to the idea of ‘Batman and Robin’, the ‘Dynamic Duo’. Because Batman and Robin requires trust, it requires knowing you can’t do it alone.”

Let’s be honest as per the modern take on Batman and Robin (if it includes Bruce as Batman) the dynamic is quite dysfunctional, Batman doesn’t know how to care for a child and children shouldn’t be responsible for an adult’s safety, so the whole thing has been weird for every Robin, its not something that happened only to Jason but here is the thing, in Under the Red Hood (which is canon in this story) when Batman and Red Hood fought side by side Bruce said the following: “…Neither of us has the strength to take him out, it will require skill and teamwork. It happens before I have time to question it, a manoeuvre that comes without thought, executed as practiced and practiced many times in the cave.”

So, him and Jason worked well, they trusted each other and the work they were doing but that is not all, because they are in the middle of a fight the Red Hood doesn’t act recklessly and takes the opportunity attack the Bat when he is vulnerable, he sticks to the coordinated fight because he trusts it will work. Batman’s thoughts confirm that because he continues saying this: “To complete it (the manoeuvre) I’m forced to leave myself unprotected from an attack, an attack from the Red Hood. But the attack never comes, he just takes cover from the blast, like practiced.”

– Batman: Under the Red Hood, chapter 10.

This thing alone, written in 2005 kills the narrative of Bruce’s Batman and Jason’s Robin not working well together.

Secondly, I have to laugh about what it's actually said in the very last panels. I am sorry but it's too funny to me, I know it acts as a parallel to Jason asking for the Bat when he was about to die but this is a man, a grown man that has experience on this job, this situation would have never happened if Jason was written fairly. This is funny because of all the people in the world I would never imagine the Red Hood asking for Batman’s help. Fuck that.

Oracle of course contacts Batman but let me say something really quickly, Barbara and Bruce are both acting like Jason getting in trouble and needing help is an annoyance. What the hell is wrong with these people? Why would Jason work with Oracle or Batman in the first place?

Batman gets in the Batmobile as soon as he can and dares call Jason his son. No thank you sir, I will not be taking that kind of bullshit today. Anyway, the Bat also has a monologue because he can’t be less, here it goes.

“Jason. Dammit, son. I’m on my way, I won’t let you…” (explosions) “You’re alive. In the here, in the now. I know this, like magic…with a curse…You’re alive.”

“I don’t need to be there again, in the past. I’ve learned my lessons, the guilt doesn’t help me, it doesn’t have a hold on me anymore. You’re alive, Jason and I intend to keep it that way.”

To this I have to say the following, the only reason why Bruce is not feeling guilty about what happened to Jason is because Jason forgave Bruce/Batman for not arriving in time in order to save Jason from the explosion back in that warehouse all those years ago. Jason forgave Bruce when the final confrontation happened in UtRH. He did it because he believed that Bruce tried and still didn’t make it.

- Batman: Under the Red Hood, chapter 13.

And something else, Bruce might have been “keeping Jason alive” but he has harmed him. Rebirth RHatO #25 exists, I don’t know if it's canon within this particular story but I can’t not bring it up if this is what this man has to say.

My take on the Batman and Red Hood relationship is that it shouldn’t exist. Red Hood is not a Batman villain but he IS a Batman antagonist. STOP making Batman and Red Hood work together, with how things ended in UtRH Jason would never work with Bruce again. I am sorry but the concept of the Batfamily with Jason as a willing participant is the biggest lie this fandom and Lobdell gave us.

Enough of my takes, let's go back to the issue because it's ending is closer and the funniest panels in this whole ass book are coming!

Batman does Batman shit and as he grapples out of the Batmobile, he manages to get Ice!Jason out of a truck and everything comes to a stop, the bad guys come out of said vehicle and one of them is going in Red Hood's direction with the intention of killing him, Batman of course saves Jason and starts fighting the rest of the baddies.

I will show you funny panel number one.

You really want to make me believe that Bruce can pull that move, shut up!!!! There is no way! That’s some Nightwing level of leg work, stop it, if the Bat pulls that move he will break something or get stuck like that…

Ahh it doesn’t matter because as Batman finishes defeating all the baddies he goes to Jason’s side and here is where funny panel number 2 comes!

STOP IT, WHAT THE HELL IS THISSS? I am losing my mind over this, have you ever seen something and thought “oh this is wrong wrong” like what? This interaction is so wild to me, everything about it makes no sense…Imagine putting Jason Todd in such a vulnerable position that he is, I don’t know, happy or glad that the Bat showed up and that Batman would say that he will always be there for Jason, this shit is hilarious.

But that’s not the end, at this point nothing should shock me (as far as character designs) but this dude shows up…

Who the hell is this guy, and why does he look like that, why are all these new character designs the same and horrible? He reminds me of the weird discount-Joker-looking dude that we had in Rebirth RHatO #52

Anyway, the new dude that will be called Cheer (apparently) and Freeze ice Batman as well and that’s it, our Red Hood related suffering is over up until next month!

This one, this one was wild, I don’t know what else to say about it…I am honestly drained after reading the issue and writing this.

Let me know what you thought about this issue and if you want to read my reviews of the previous parts I will link them here! Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3!

#jason todd #red hood #robin jason todd #batman urban legends #urban legends red hood #red hood outlaw

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butwhatifidothis · 3 years

Text

I did it! Finally fucking did it! I 100% the support log for 3H….Holy shit, that took longer than I was expecting, lol.

(Long rant, so heads up.)

I came in thinking “Oh they finally time-locked the supports, so I don’t have to have the damn cursor mocking me every time I open the menu like in Awakening and Fates, hurr hurr”. No no no no no. At least for Awakening and Fates, it was on my dumb ass for pressing the S-support and saving when I knew I shouldn’t. First off, if they wanted us to regain supports for Byleth in NG+, why the heck are supports for characters like Edelgard, Rhea, Dorothea and Lindhart locked? I don’t mean time-locked like the post-TS supports in a regular playthrough, I mean deadass “you can’t buy this, period” locked. “Oh it’s because you haven’t advanced that far in the story yet”. I can buy post-TS supports for the other characters, what makes El and Rhea exceptions?! The only thing that would be lost is that I don’t have to replay their entire route to get their S-support twice. It’s not like there’s enough differences between Bylad and Bylass to warrant the supports being locked, none of the characters specify a specific gender in their dialogue, and as far as different models go, changing models during a cutscene is coded into the game, so that should be no issue.

After going through the monastery option enough times, the hubworld is in this weird limbo state where it feels like it was made specifically for Byleth’s benefit (faculty training, recruiting party members, etc,) but the rest of the party seems to benefit from it instead (Instructions, Motivation points, etc). The Explore vs Battle options just don’t mix well, which feels like poor design choice. You can focus on auxiliary battles to raise your party’s level, but at the cost of potentially missing out on more party members. You can instead focus on the monastery to recruit party members, but at the cost of Byleth falling behind due to splitting activity points between recruiting and faculty training, and being in the monastery means less time grinding for levels. This isn’t as much of a problem in NG+, but if a game needs NG+ to lessen a design problem, then that’s more of a sign to me that the idea itself needed more ironing out.

As far as using the monastery to raise support points goes, the hubworld definitely needs a revamp. The only (good) options available are Meal Time and Choir Practice, with the latter being limited to once per week and the former making me think that the monastery must eat their own weapons to survive due to how fucking scarce food ingredients are. Getting meat and fish isn’t too big of an issue so long as you have enough money, but produce might as well be an urban legend. There were too many times where I had 60+ fish/meat, but produce was at fucking 1. I get that they wanted to be “realistic” in having seeds grow once per week, but if it’s at the cost of a gameplay element being nigh unplayable, then some more thought needs to be put into it. Sothis is a goddess of life and time, maybe her powers allow Byleth to make plants grow faster. Just something to make this section actually playable.

The final thing I wanted to talk about when it comes to the monastery is that, for some baffling reason, it is entirely possible to lock yourself out of key events like S-supports or being able to choose CF, simply by skipping to the end of the month. I’m not sure why this is a thing. It’s not like the game was designed with speedruns in mind (I mean, it is possible to beat a route in an hour, but fuck me if I ever succeeded in that), and nothing happens like a prompt popping up that you have to explore the monastery during that month or even limiting your options to just Explore (which the game has done before). This is especially weird for the quest in getting Jeralt’s ring (how to access S-supports), since Byleth is supposed to be sad in this month, so not being able to do seminars or Byleth being undeployable during auxiliary battles would make sense.

The option to choose CF is even worse though, because at least for Jeralt’s ring it’s a Red Quest that doesn’t allow you to finish exploring unless you complete it. For Edelgard, however? A dime-a-dozen quest prompt you can entirely look over and skip. No prompt by the game, no indication to talk to Edelgard, nothing. FFS, Rhea’s tea time quest was given more thought. At least her quest marker is a unique color.

(End of rant…sort of)

…So anyways, that was my experience with the game, lmao. Now you or someone else may be thinking, “nonnie, if you had this many problems completing the game, why did you bother?”, and the answer to that good question is…I’m not completely sure, lol. I know there’s more than one reason why, so bear with me here. I know part of it is due to sunk-cost fallacy (“I’m already this far into the game, I might as well fully complete it”), but I think a bigger reason is because I knew ahead of time that the routes were so similar to each other that there was little point in having a route split to begin with (except for CF, but who gives a fuck about that?). Despite all of my bitching, I do really like 3H even if I admit that it’s my least favorite FE game that I’ve played so far. I guess a part of me just wanted to like the game more despite my issues with it.

Now that I think about it, maybe the main reason was for fear of future mainline games. People are fear to like whatever part of a game that they wish, but I do think that 3H introduced some fundamental storytelling flaws that I’d rather not see repeated in the future, with me focusing on 3 in particular: 1) The Monastery, 2) Route Splits and 3) Byleth.

Aside from what I already talked about in regards to the monastery, if we are going to get another hubworld in the new FE title, have it to where it doesn’t conflict with how the rest of the story is presented. Is it better to simply tell us that the Western Church is xenophobic in an easily skippable side quest early on, or is it better to show us? Enemy Western Church NPCs going after foreign party members like Dedue or Petra more aggressively and calling them “animals” or the like, the map having Duscari NPCs locking themselves indoors for fear that the Western Church will persecute them, things of that nature. Is it better to tell us that there has been civil unrest in the Empire and the citizens revolting against Edelgard, or is it better to show us? Enemy Adrestian Civilian NPCs, assassins specifically going after Edelgard in a map, maybe one where a large farmland has been stripped bare. Things like that.

I’d rather do away with the Persona-calendar/Monastery hubworld, but if they are here to stay then they need enough content in it to keep the player engaged for 20-odd chapters, because there isn’t enough content in Garreg Mach to even hold up 12 chapters. Speaking of more content, if there’s going to be another route split in the next title, then there needs to be enough differences in the routes that actually warrants having a route split. Fates already did this well in having the route split be early in the game, along with the plot and story maps of each route being different, you could even skip to the route split moment on subsequent playthroughs, so 3H’s approach in having to play the same 12 chapters 3-4 times just felt like a massive downgrade. Playing multiple routes should feel rewarding rather than tedious, is what I’m trying to say.

Finally, and most importantly, I know that no one at IS is reading this but on the off chance that someone is - please, for the love of God, do not make another blank-slate/self insert main character like Byleth. Or at the very least, don’t have them be the focal point of the story, it’s a big reason why AM just works better than the other routes. For a game like FE, “self-insert” and “protagonist” goes as well as oil and water. Now, out of those three flaws listed, the Byleth one is what I’m hard set on. The monastery and route split flaws, my opinion might be flexible within reason, but the Byleth one…not so much, lol. If we really do get another self-insert doll for a main character, that alone is going to make the next game a hard sell for me, because seeing all the praise Byleth got (and has been getting) makes me fear that IS is going to take the wrong lesson from this and think they don’t have to put effort in making their protagonist anything resembling an actual person and their audience will still lap it up. It would be one thing if I just hated the character, but I don’t. I’m disappointed, which is even worse.

…With that said, it’s still better than whatever the heck Cap’n’Crunch is doing. Okay, rant over. For real this time.

—

I agree with a lot said here! But I do have a few disagreements, though they’re mostly my opinion than anything else lol

And this first one is probably like, extremely unpopular given how much shit I’ve seen flung at this aspect of 3H, but like… I actually really like the Monastery? Like yes, absolutely, it should have done more to not shelter the player from how bad the war is and it should change more with the world instead of being in this mostly limbo state where apparently seasons don’t real. I definitely also have those complaints, but to me, the Monastery was fine for the most part. A lot of the issues you brought up, like supports and Faculty Training and supplies for eating, weren’t a problem for me almost at all. My only real gripe is with how hard it is for Byleth to get training in Flying, Mounted and especially Heavy Armor without NG+ unlocking weapons ranks, since they don’t have access to Weekly Chores. I do believe I still managed to recruit everyone while only unlocking C in Faith on my Maddening playthrough of GD, but it certainly wasn’t easy. But I feel a lot of the problem people have with it are on subsequent playthroughs where they’re trying to do things like 100% any aspect of 3H, which yeah is gonna exacerbate the issues tenfold. Cuz like, while those three weapons ranks I mentioned are hard for Byleth to raise, on Normal mode you have unlimited auxiliary battles to help with all the other ones.

Like, I wanted to get Claude’s Dex to the max amount right? Just cuz I felt like it. And in doing that I found out just how tedious it is to get levels once a unit gets to a certain point, just cuz while Normal Mode gives you the Retreat option that lets you keep exp so you can drop a unit down on a yellow spot and get a decent boost in exp… you can do that like, twice or thrice on a story chapter. Once if it’s auxiliary (and not the freebie one). And that’s if you even have internet. And using the greenhouse to get Ailiell Pomegranates was a pain because they weren’t really guaranteed even if I used nothing but the right seed - doing that is more consistent, but not always, and I usually only got one anyway. It was annoying! But I was also doing a specific thing that’s gonna heighten the flaws in the system that I never would have noticed - didn’t even notice - unless I did that. The flaws are still there, don’t get me wrong! The Monastery definitely still needs improvement, battles still need to be a little more streamlined for future playthrough, but the flaws can seem a bit bigger than they are once you do certain things outside of a casual playthrough, know what I mean?

But, for example, when replaying 3H on hard mode and looking to recruit everyone after my no recruitment run, I didn’t come across any dilemma over “recruitment or Byleth being good, pick one.” That was the run my Byleth was usable, in fact - my first blind run that was no recruitment (save for Shamir) had my Byleth be pretty much completely useless while literally everyone else was fine. Also never came across problems with supplies for cooking (or at least not any big enough to comment on). So like, while these (and the above stuff) can certainly be problems for players trying to do everything everything in 3H, at least from my experience I just haven’t come across them. The monastery itself definitely needed a better story implementation, but yeah. I could’ve just been lucky tho lmao

I don’t mind how they implemented trying to get on CF at all tho lol. If you’ve been playing the game like it suggests you do - supporting characters and exploring the monastery there’s no reason for players to have missed getting on CF. If players wanted to ignore one of the biggest aspects of the game I don’t really feel that bad for them when they miss out on very achievable things. Plus, CF’s requirements are nothing in terms of FE’s madness when it comes to getting on a route. It may be more specific than any other route, but like I said, playing the game as the game tells you to would naturally land you in it (the only thing that might be a bit unfair is that I think if you talk with Edelgard at all that month you have to decide right then and there, and then the whole month is lost. Kinda ass).

Binding Blade, for example, requires you to do specific things that few first time players would think to do in multiple, random chapters in order for you to get the best ending. With absolutely no warning as to when these chapters happen and what to do in them. And some of these requirements are not fun lmao, I’d prefer how they did it with CF than with how they’ve handled ~secret~ stuff before personally

Pretty much agree with everything else though! While 3H is actually one of my more favored games in the series, I’ll be the first to admit that its storytelling is in dire need of improvement. Having the story and lore of the game just be spat out in lore dumps and this or that NPC just isn’t that good. Or if they are going to do that, at the very least give some visuals to go along with it! Imagine how much impactful Rhea’s story would have been if it was in a visual format, like CGs and/or a cutscene. It still would be an info dump, but at least we can see for ourselves how horrific the Red Canyon was for her! And I do not want another avatar in whatever next mainline game we get, personality or not. We’ve evolved past the need for self-inserts that all the characters Just Like lmao

But thanks for sharing your thoughts!! And sorry that it took so long for me to get to answering ;w;

#submission #anon #exqueuese me princess #but hey I found the og submission at least!! for some reason it got thrown in like the middle of my drafts?? weird lmao #but yeah overall I do think 3H could've done with some refinement for later more intensive playthroughs #and on the other hand I get why they didn't immediately think of them if that makes sense #also lol yeah the base game is infinitely more fun that whatever Cap'n'n doin' lmao

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al-pomegranate-seeds · 4 years

Text

The hands they held

“Roman looked at the flower shop that set itself across the street from his tattoo parlor. How weird. He was almost sure the building had looked as boring as the other empty buildings in the street when he closed the shop the night before.The front of the small building was not as covered with vines and flowers that surely didn’t grow together as it was now, of that he was certain.“

Pairings: Logince, DLAMP in later installments

Urban fantasy

Tags: Fluff, Getting Together, Genderfluid Logan Sanders, Flower Shop and Tattoo Parlor au(but make it magical(not the first one to do that but I feel proud))

Warnings: Food mention(it’s Roman listing out some food and then they mentioning it after some times)

Characters: Roman Sanders, Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders, Dot(Cartoon Therapy)

Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705440

Roman looked at the flower shop that set itself across the street from his tattoo parlor. How weird. He was almost sure the building had looked as boring as the other empty buildings in the street when he closed the shop the night before. The front of the small building was not as covered with vines and flowers that surely didn’t grow together as it was now, of that he was certain. The visuals were right up his alley, though, just the right amount of dramatics one needed in their life to make it interesting. A big sign sat on top the glass doors, displaying the name “Berry’s Flowers and Herbs”.

And then, as he was lost in thought admiring and trying to see if he recognized any of the flowers, a man almost as tall as Roman himself, with deep brown hair and brown skin, wearing a simple black polo with jeans and a gardening apron, opened the door and put up a sign saying “OPEN” in dark blue letters, before turning around and inspecting the streets, and then looking directly in Roman’s direction and – holy shit.

Roman was in love.

Before we continue telling the story, let’s lay down some facts about our current favorite boy. First, Roman and Remus’ mother was an elf. Second, elves, besides a long lifespan and a somewhat inflated ego, have better working eyes than most humans. Which is how, even a street away, Roman could notice the beautiful sharp angles of the man’s face, the gorgeous silver shade of his eyes behind his square glasses, and the adorable glittering freckles that covered his face, his neck and his arms.

Roman kept gawking at the glittering man like a fish as he went back inside the shop and closed the glass doors.

“Ooooh, sweet, that’s closer than where I buy.” Remus’s voice sounded suddenly, startling Roman out of his daydreaming.

“Oh, cool.” Roman said automatically, before turning to Remus, who was cleaning his hands with a rag. Roman decided to simply not ask how he had gotten them dirty. “Hey, Rem.”

Remus imeddiately squinted. “What the fuck do you want?”

“What? Can’t a man just call his bro by a nickname to show his brotherly love?”

“You do that by calling me Trash Man, you only call me Rem when you want something, what the fuck is it?”

“Oh I wasn’t going to ask for anything, I was just going to ask if, I dunno, you maybe needed some more ingredients, maybe the ones you have are running out or something, I could maybe go pick it up for you...” Roman trailed off.

Remus just kept squinting at Roman for another 20 seconds, before flicking his eyes to some point behind him. Roman turned, only to see the man from before pushing a table on wheels with flower vases to the front of one of the big glass windows, before going back inside.

Roman could tell he was staring as the man went back inside, and when he looked back at Remus, that shithead smile was glued to his face like a dry face mask.

“Oooh, you got a cruuuuuush?” Remus said in a sing-songy voice, and Roman didn’t even have the energy to pretend to be mad, so he just kept staring at his brother’s face. “You know, now that you mention it, I think I’ve used up all of my marigolds, and I’m close to running out of rosemary...”

Roman immediately perked up. “So maybe, your very selfless and very helpful brother could pick some up for you?”

“Ah, yes, my brother who has no ulterior motives besides being helpful, of course.” Remus said, grabbing one of the sketch books before ripping out a page and writing something down. “Ok, there’s more than just what I said, I need some alyssum and some chrysantemus and some dandelions...”

“Ok, noted.” Roman said, grabbing the paper and scanning the list without actually reading it. He already remebered only the dandelion out of the flowers Remus had mentioned.

As Roman was heading out by the door, Remus screamed “Use protection!”

“I’ll murder you!” Roman screamed back cheerily.

He wasn’t prepared to enter the shop.

As soon as he step foot past the door, he realized the air felt different. It wasn’t exactly pleasant or unpleasant, but it was distinctly different than the air around human populated cities. Roman was almost sure he could hear little bells, and it felt like the air was caressing his skin. The walls were covered in shelves with different plants displays, the floor was a magenta and indigo checkered tile with golden edges that somehow managed to not be obnoxious, and the ceiling was entirely glass with golden metal swirls. The space was well lit, all of the flowers in perfect display.

“Salutations.” Sounded a voice, and Roman immediately looked back to the counter that sat at the back of the store, behind which he could see the glittering man and wow, he was even more beautiful up close.

“Hello there!” Roman said, managing to hide the fact that he felt distinctively out of breath at the sight that laid before him, which he wasn’t completely sure wasn’t a hallucination.

The man’s glittering silver freckles were even more visible from this close, and Roman could also see some that were smaller, less glittery but just as breathtaking, and he also noticed that the man’s hair also glittered slightly.

“...Can I help you?”

“Oh. Oh! Yes, yes, my brother sent me to buy some flowers, and-“ he started before realizing he didn’t actually know what to say after. “...and here is the list. With the flowers.”

He dramatically handed the list over to the man, who simply grabbed it and started Reading. A couple seconds passed before he raised an eyebrow.

“A...Kiss?”

“Whut. Wait.” Roman hastily grabbed the paper and quickly scanned the list, eventually finding the “kiss” item with a heart dotting the i. “Oh, that motherfucker knew I wasn’t going to read it, I swear this is just a prank – “

“Not to worry. Let’s simply ignore this and I’ll grab the flowers.” The man said, and set to do just that, quickly scanning the shelves and putting the flowers in clear plastic rolls.

Roman managed to stay silent for about five seconds.

“So, I don’t remember seeing the shop here yesterday.”

The man seemed to be startled for a bit, before answering “You wouldn’t have, we moved in during the night.”

“Hmm.” Roman hummed before looking for something else to say. “We?”

“...Yes. Me and my parents. My mother and I run the shop.”

“Oh, marvelous, so it’s a Family business! You know, me and my brother run the tattoo parlor across the street, we do tattoos with various magical properties. You should come visit, my name is Roman, I use he/him pronouns, and my brother is Remus, he/him pronouns too.”

“...Logan. He/him today.” He – Logan – said, turning to the dandelions. “Are you always such a conversationalist when buying flowers?”

That made Roman pause.

“Oh, um, I hadn’t – Am I making your uncomfortable?”

“Not to worry, I am simply not used to such...Friendly customers. But this is pleasant.”

Roman sighed relieved.

“I am not opposed to visiting your parlor, if you’ll have me.”

He simply smiled.

“Well hello there!” Roman said, opening the glass doors and spotting Logan behind the counter, like last time.

“Salutations, Roman. They/them today.” Roman nodded, leaning on the counter.

“So, how’s the day going for you, Specs?”

Logan went a few moments without answering, probably because of the nickname. “Pleasant enough. A few customers have come by. None of them was unpleasant.”

“That’s indeed pleasant.” Roman turned around, leaning on the counter with his hips now, looking around at the shop, and noticing the flowers on his left looked more perfect than a lot of flowers he had seen in his life. “Hey, Logan, did you do something to those flowers over there?”

Logan seemed to perk up a bit. They fixed their glasses before answering. “Indeed. Those are flowers I separate for decorations, I enchant them to stay alive for longer. This enchantment can mess with cooking and potions, however, so I always ask before picking them.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I hadn’t thought of that.” They stayed silent then, Roman zoning out as he looked at the flowers and spun his necklace on his finger. “Hey Specs, how old are you?”

“I – Well.” Logan started, before pausing and thinking more. “I’m forty years old, technically, but I’m a fairy, so I haven’t grown beyond being what humans would consider twenty five to twenty nine.”

“Oh, you’re a fairy?”

“Well, quarter fairy. My father is half fairy, my mother is human. They had me when mother was twenty seven years old, and I grew up in the same speed as a human until I was around twenty four years.”

“Marvelous. I’m half elf. I’m thirty four years old, and yeah, basically around that age. I would still be a teenager if both of my parents were elves.”

They stayed in silence for a few minutes.

“Roman, do you...Do you like outer space?”

“Well, yeah.” Roman said, before turning back to Logan. “I don’t know a lot, but I think it’s fascinating.”

“Would you...” They swallowed, then, sounding nervous. “Would you like to hear about it?”

“Of course. Tell me everything you know.”

Logan smiled, then, with barely restrained excitement, and Roman felt like he could listen to them for hours if they would always smile like that.

“Hello there, my favorite nerd!” Roman said, entering the shop with his his arms spread and holding a paper bag.

“Salutations, Roman. She/her today. Do you bring anything besides your dramatic entrance?” Logan said, with a small smile that never failed to make Roman lose his train of thought for a few seconds.

“I sure do, Smarty McSpecson, I bring sustenance!” He laid the paper bag on the counter. “It’s a bowl of goose stew with mushrooms, fruit salad with honey, aaaaaaaand pork filled buns.”

“Sounds delicious. I’ll have the buns.”

“Marvelous! I’ll eat some of the stew. I’ve got homemade mayonnaise too, if you’d like to add it.” Then he went to open the bag.

“Wait. Mother will take over the shop for this afternoon, so I’m free in ten minutes. There is a small kitchen in the back, and I think it would be pleasant to eat on a table instead of this counter.”

“Oh, that would be cool.” Roman said, trying to play it cool. It almost felt like she was inviting him on a date, but surely that wouldn’t be it? Logan was just nice like that. She was also very direct and probably would be forward in asking for a date. Yeah.

“Come on, it’s behind this door over here.” Roman then followed Logan into the aforementioned door, finding a small kitchen that seemed to be decorated with a light yellow color scheme. All the counters and cabinets were light yellow, the counters having white tops, the fridge and the stove were both black, and the floor tile was white. The kitchen was pretty small, only wide enough to fit a small round table and two chairs, and there was a floor to ceiling rectangular glass window behind one of the chairs.

“You can sit down while I get mother, I’m sure she won’t be incovenienced to come down ten minutes early.” Logan said while getting some plates and bowls from the cabinets, then laying them on the table.

“Ok. I’ll be here waiting.” Roman said, sitting on the chair facing the window. He may or may not have been thinking about how gorgeous Logan would look framed by the window and the plants outside.

Logan stepped into a door that led to a white staircase, leaving Roman to think and analyze the small kitchen.

Now that he had the opportunity to pay attention, he could notice little things he hadn’t noticed when he first entered the kitchen : the white countertops were stained at some spots with some sort of colorful pigment, there was a black paper on which someone drew constellations with white crayon, and there was a clear glass cookie jar filled with dried flowers on one counter.

About five minutes later, Logan came back with who Roman assumed was her mother, a chubby, dark skinned lady with short black hair wearing a beige argyle sweater over a white button up and beige skirt, plus a pair of red glasses and bright red lipstick. He noticed Logan seemed distinctly more glittery around the face.

“Oh hello there dear, you must be the famed Roman!” The lady said, rushing over to him and grabbing his hands. “I’m Dot, this one’s mom, I’ve heard so many things about you – “

“Mother...” Logan said with a warning tone, her voice not managing to hide her embarassment.

“Oh Logan talked about you so much, you’re every bit as handsome as she described – “

“Mother!” Logan exclaimed, and now her face was shining so much it looked like it was encrusted with tiny gems. Roman was almost hipnotized enough to not realize that was probably her way of blushing.

“What? It’s true! He’s as handsome as sherpherd pie!” Dot responded, and Roman was as confused as he was flattered.

“Mother, that’s not – forty seven years of marriage, and that’s what you pick up of father’s vocabulary?” Logan said, bafflement not being able to hid the awfully fond tone of her voice.

“Oh don’t pick on me, you know I’m telling the truth.” Dot said, before looking at the shop. “Oh dear, I better get started on that shop running thing.” She said, before kissing Roman and Logan’s cheeks and stepping out into the shop, closing the kitchen door.

They stayed silent froma few moments before Logan sighed.

“I love my mother, but she can be a bit overwhelming. I hope she didn’t bother you too much.”

“Oh, she didn’t bother me at all. So, um, as handsome as shepherd pie?” Roman asked, still a bit baffled by the term.

“It’s an expression father uses. It’s an equivalent translation coming from the faery language my father’s specific nation spoke. It’s a bit outdated, but it was used most often to describe someone the person was attracted to. Of course,” Logan said all of this while grabbing the cuttlery and sitting down on the other chair. She paused while adjusting herself on the chair, before continuing with a fondly amused smile. “she wasn’t hitting on you, don’t worry.” Logan went to grab the pork buns, while murmuring to herself low enough that, if Roman wasn’t part elf, he surely wouldn’t have been able to hear it. “Not for herself, at least.”

“Not for herself?” Roman asked. Logan’s eyes went wide as saucers, and she almost dropped the bun she was holding.

“Oh you – you heard that?” Logan asked, adjusting her glasses (which Roman had noticed was a bit of a tic of hers). Her face, that had gone back to the normal amount of glittering, suddenly was shiny enough that Roman wanted to grab her face and kiss her senseless.

“If it’s any comfort, I only heard because elven hearing is a stronger than humans’. But seriously, what did you mean?”

“Oh, it’s nothing important, it’s silly, it’s just – mother is certain you have been flirting with me, you see, and no matter how much I tell her she’s being foolish, she won’t quit putting these thoughts into my head, and I swear it wasn’t on purpose, I didn’t even felt like these before but then she mentioned it and I couldn’t stop thinking about how handsome you are and how nice you are and how you made an effort to befriend me when we had just moved in and I didn’t know anyone and I didn’t have any energy to go out and make friends – “ she was rambling now, her speech getting more fast paced and anxious the longer Roman went without saying anything.

Well. She seemed to think Roman wasn’t interested. He had to do something about that.

Logan was gesturing wildly with her hands, moving them up and down in an effort to calm herself, so Roman grabbed one of them in an effort to effectively distract her.

“So,” he said, laying their hands down palms up on the table and drawing tiny circles on the wrist. “I most definitely was flirting. I most definitely think you are very handsome and very nice. And I most definitely think you are as handsome as shepherd pie.”

Logan was silent for a few moments before saying, with a slight breathless note on her voice, “...oh.”

“Yeah.” Roman said, before bringing Logan’s hand up his mouth and kissing the palm.

Logan giggled. She honest to ghosts, real as magic, giggled.

“So,” Roman said, putting their hands back on the table. “do you want to try this?”

“I – most definitely.” She answered, nodding quickly with a smile on her face.

They started eating, then, and nothing changed but the hands they held and the soft smiles.

@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors

#logince #fluff #getting together #logan sanders #roman sanders #genderfluid logan sanders #urban fantasy #elf roman sanders #fairy logan sanders #sanders sides #unicia

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