Firstly, thanks so much for your patience with my ramblings haha, it's always an absolute pleasure to read your responses even if I get more unhinged with each one of mine! Of course, I'll continue to do my best with the wiki! (Actually, I think it's because of you that I noticed Daigo's age(s) were a year off haha, so thank you for that as well.)
I think you hit the nail on the head, and I adore how his relationships were executed in Y7 as well! I was initially a little bit apprehensive when trailers for 7 were coming out since RGGJo (and Mine, of course) were my favorite antagonists, and Jo is by far the character who's changed the most between games, but I can safely say both… Joes… are right up there for me.
I think a strong early subversion/conversion/something is that RGGJo really does just go and shoot up a rival office for attacking Arakawa (even though Arakawa was fine?). With Y7Jo, even though he's covering for Masato, the fact that's still the story Ichi gets told and he doesn't question it sort of speaks to Y7Jo having a similarly "protective" streak even if it's not actually what happened in that instance. That's also demonstrated in The Eye Scene as you mention later.
Like, I think that story is fairly clearly something he and Arakawa discussed. Masato got in contact with Jo first, and the mess Ichi tries to clear up when he comes in the morning after is indicative of a very long, stressful conversation between two people. Given Masato absolutely should not be smoking, process of elimination would suggest it's Jo. And it's a story they would've aimed to make as believable as possible, so the fact it is believable (Ichi being a bit gullible notwithstanding) says something to me.
For two characters who hardly even speak to each other onscreen (criminal btw), there's a lot to dig into when it comes to Arakawa and Sawashiro's relationship. That aside, I'm super excited to see you analyse Jo's psyche, and I can't wait to read it! I've been reading Japanese psychology texts myself and noticing a number of concepts that apply to Mine, but may apply to the Arakawas as well. There's a great deal I want to share once I get my thoughts in order.
I totally agree Mine's influence on RGGJo was the strongest of the three! I mean, y'know, that's why I acquired brainworms for RGGJo/Mine specifically. (Still 1000% going to commission you by the way when I've got my refs together + am not in danger of being unable to afford Gaiden and 8 lol). Sort of like with Masato and Daigo, I think characters who are clearly based on each other work quite well together even if it's seen as crack. You can come up with pretty compelling ideas trying to rationalize those similarities from a Watsonian perspective.
The devotion is absolutely the strongest point (having the exact same relationship tag for Arakawa and Daigo respectively + similar wording for it in the 15th anniversary book is a nice touch), but for me it's also what's done with it in terms of presentation. For both Mine and RGGJo you're supposed to believe they're actively working against Daigo and Arakawa's interests for most of the story.
And they probably kind of are, but they're convinced the pros outweigh the cons (as with the resort gambit, which you're remembering correctly!) Though it may not have the same effect nowadays for various reasons (spoilers, plot points becoming predictable on account of other games, etc), the devotion was originally supposed to be a twist.
There are other things, of course; they're both the "treasurers" of their respective organizations, they're both third-in-command of the Tojo and Omi, they're both talented people who possess overwhelming strength and influence and are regarded as geniuses (despite scenes to the contrary). If I wanted to reach design-wise, they've got mirrored ahoges, and Mine's "Legend" costume is probably based on characters like RGGJo and Nishiki. Their first cards were even officially stated to have synergy on account of their very similar skillset.
You end up noticing a lot of things like that if you're clinically insane like I am, but the one thing that's really stuck with me is that the render used for RGGJo's office is specifically a new render the Hakuho Clan office. It's missing the stuff that's supposed to be missing, the stuff Kanda broke, but only that. Mine's art collection, which is very personal to him as is also revealed in RGGO, is preserved in full.
There are a number of newly-rendered locations in RGGO and they could've just done that, or they could've picked any location that's not (imo) one of the most iconic, but I don't know why they didn't. And I don't know whether it was just convenience, whether it's simply meant to be reflective of them having similar tastes without being the same office, or whether it's just honest to God the same office. I mean, it's not like there's any reason to acknowledge it in-game.
But I think, in a weird way, that this is one of the things that carried over to Y7Jo alongside the devotion and The Eye Scene. A lot of people don't notice because there's so much going on in Y7's finale, but the Arakawa Family office the finale takes place in is specifically Y7Jo's office. And if you examine the Hakuho Clan office and the Arakawa Family office as spaces Mine and Y7Jo have created for themselves, there are very few aesthetic similarities other than being pretty tasteful two-storey offices, but both are, in their own ways, designed for companionship.
There is the obvious fully-stocked bar and main seating area in both, but that's sort of whatever, that's entertainment and hospitality. What really catches my eye, at least on the first floor, is that every piece of gym equipment in Mine's office comes in pairs; similarly, there's the pair of armchairs that are just by themselves behind Y7Jo's desk.
The second floor of Mine's office basically consists of only a TV, a table, and a set of couches, but I think the second floor of of 7Jo's is the more telling of the two. You walk upstairs from this very snazzy, richly decorated first floor (btw, like Mine's gym equipment and art, I would like to think the fact it's decked from top to bottom with books isn't just for show) to a second floor that consists of… absolutely nothing.
Nothing except another pair of armchairs, echoing those on the first floor, facing out into this gorgeous (RGGJou would--and has--said "romantic") view of Kamurocho. Maybe it's just to have this dramatic, spacious arena for the very last fight, but I just think that visual is potentially such a strong bit of storytelling via set dressing.
I also think with RGGJo being split into Y7Jo and Masato, some of the Mine influence kind of ended up with Masato too, specifically as Aoki. At least insofar as all the catastrophizing about not truly being cared-for despite evidence to the contrary, and I kind of felt like the moment where he shoots at and narrowly misses Ichi's head, then throws his gun away for a good ol' fistfight was Something.
Completely agree on your assessment of the link to Nishiki as well! There's the surface level design similarities with young RGGJo back when he had long hair and accessorized less, but yeah, no notes. I definitely think Y7Arakawa's line applies perfectly to the dynamic they were going for, too.
I thought the implication was that Masato wouldn't have survived at all in RGGO on account of Arakawa being unable to open the locker, but it's super interesting to think about how things might've turned out otherwise! A Masato who's Just A Guy and treated sort of like RGGO Mitsu's offscreen wife and kid is such a concept.
I really do hope there's a continuation to the story; as it stands, it literally ends with Jo in a coma lol. But I'm grateful RGGO is still accessible and actively updated, in comparison to the previous mobile titles, which also had original stories that are all gone now.
Jo was actually in a very recent event, even. The event spent its whole runtime talking about how cats are sensitive to smell, and evidently, according to the ending, Jo is incredibly sensitive to smell himself. I'm not sure which Jo it was even supposed to be since he was offscreen, but uh, catboy confirmed? Nyawashiro…? It's fun trivia.
Mentioning Arakawa's "sons" line in such close proximity to talking about Tsutsumi reminds me! There was this Y7 interview with all three actors (that has since been privated and that I kick myself every day for archiving) where Nakai and Tsutsumi were talking about how they usually play father and son.
So there's this very, very long history of them co-starring (as I'm sure you're aware lol), like from way back when Tsutsumi's voice was actually higher. And I think the casting choices absolutely are informed by the history and context there, both as individuals and as co-stars, both in terms of filmography as you say and not.
One particular anecdote that just Gets Me is that this was Tsutsumi's first time voice-acting, and he honestly wasn't even sure he'd take the role, but he accepted once he heard Nakai was on board. And he went on to actually enjoy it so much he read the rest of the (gargantuan) script, far beyond his own dialogue, and ended up forgetting the lines to the play he was doing at the time.
He also went on to voice-act a second time in The Deer King, where he plays… another iintimidating man with a violent reputation and a "soft"/deeper side (who is of course a reluctant father), actually. I actually have seen most of his other roles, and Jo really is almost one-of-a-kind. Though it's hard to find any one character he's "like," I can absolutely see what you mean with regard to Oda Nobunaga and Kanda.
I think that actually really works with regard to audiences having an idea of what to expect from his character and to an extent from Y7 if you look Jo as more of a culmination of Tsutsumi's career up to that point. In addition to what you've mentioned already, I also detect a lot of Koda (Good Luck!!) and Ogata (SP)'s themes with regret and making amends and vengeance in particular.
There's a little bit of Appare (Kagerou Touge) and Shibata (Keiho) too, I think, in terms of presenting yourself as worse than you actually are. And I think Tsutsumi's own struggles with mental health lend a lot of gravitas to characters like Ishigami (Suspect X) and Jo, who you can't really argue Isn't Depressed, especially at present.
And of course, y'know, he's played yakuza (to great effect), he's played dads (to great effect; btw, I would say the worst fathers/father figures he's played are probably in Fable II and My Blood & Bones in a Flowing Galaxy, Jo somehow doesn't even compare lol). Also, pretty much every Tsutsumi character either ends up dead or in jail, being a villain in an RGG game notwithstanding. There are often very strong critiques of police and politics present in his work as well, Y7 being no exception.
It's similar with Nakai, maybe to an even greater extent than with Tsutsumi, since Y7 borrows more heavily from his works and his personal life aligns surprisingly well with Arakawa's. They're both actors who are sons of actors, lost their fathers at a young age, were raised by abusive mothers, and ended up with a sort of unlikely father figure in adulthood. So I think it's sweet that Nakai ended up enjoying Arakawa as much as Tsutsumi did Jo. It's kind of funny being more or less typecast as a dad without actually having any children (unlike Tsutsumi), though.
I touched on it a tiny bit before but that's a really insightful take on RGGJo's splintering, as well! And you're most welcome. I've always found it fascinating just how closely their backgrounds tie in to who they end up being. I completely agree having his dad around did a lot for Arakawa in terms of having the confidence to stick to his guns.
But yeah, you know, it's just tragic. I think it's also one of the less talked-about ways abuse can perpetuate itself. Because Jo treating Ichi the way his father may have treated him is sort of the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the topic, but Jo's learned avoidance also goes on to make Arakawa a scapegoat for Aoki's abuse.
I'm always a fan of your takes and insights, so I don't mind the wait: thank you so much for writing as much as you have, it's really wonderful being able to discuss Jo and RGGO v. Y7 as a whole! (I have to be embarrassed about the Daigo's-Age bit though: I'm glad I was able to help point it out, but I remember being so sassy and rude in the post where I mentioned it 😭)
It's great that despite their differences, both Jo's are still incredibly enjoyable; the roles each Jo fulfills, although different, are still executed in ways that keep the character in a close beat with each other, but of course effectively fill out their new purposes in new interesting ways!
As a bit of an aside, I've always been curious and nosy about the full details about New Years Day, 2001 and what happened after that. Anything I can say about the night tiptoes more into theory territory than anything solid, but if we're to go off the notion Masato really did head straight home afterwards, then it is fair to assume Jo had to have met with Arakawa that same night not long after the call in order for Arakawa to be ready to talk to Ichi the same morning (it must have been the biggest shock afterwards for Masato to hear he's gotta run to America if the three of them didn't talk about it together- which I'm assuming is what happened since, as you said, Masato shouldn't be anywhere near cigarettes, and the ash tray is definitely indicative of a stressful discussion). BUT Jo's preexisting devotion to Arakawa (plus the nod to/rework of RGGJo actually attacking a rival gang) nonetheless definitely helped in making their story digestible to the people they had to tell.
The fact Jo and Arakawa interact so little on screen really is unfortunate, even if it's understandable as to why. At the very least, I'm grateful there's so many bits of context clues through the game/s that can at least offer a peak into their dynamic! Segwaying away from that though, I can't lie I was already thinking of some bullet points regarding Jo's brain as I was falling asleep, so it's definitely something I want to put to paper when I get to: I'm glad to hear I have your interest on it when I write it! In that same vein, I'd be more than happy as well to hear about these notes you've seen that can apply not only to Mine, but to the Arakawa family. As you note later on, Mine and Aoki share similar philosophies, so I'd love to see your full take on that if you get to it!
About Mine though, it was really hard for me not to joke about the two being similar whenever the chance arose: I mean, two men who lose their fathers (admittedly, Jo chose to leave his dad but Dad Lost is still a bullet point on the venn diagram... that now I actually feel like taking the time to make later...) turn out to become their respective clan's most trusted asset (and handler of assets) who are volatile when it comes to the ones they care about (I don't have to clarify Mine, but as for Jo, aside from The Eye Scene and even the book wording, he definitely overreacts to Ichi having Masato's money. Of course, part of his anger could be due to his belief in the honor of being a yakuza, but I wouldn't say it's a reach to also assume that the idea of Ichi pestering Masato- if not assuming the worst for whatever reason from Ichiban of all people- might have irked him) and ironically act out in ways that would go against what the ones they care about want (more so strictly about RGGJo, of course)- it's hard not to see the notes borrowed from Mine to make Jo. In that, I do really enjoy their devotions being twists; even if that twist might not work nowadays as efficiently, I'll still enjoy it for what it's able to provide and how it can deepen a character.
To continue on to visual similarities, I actually did notice RGGJo's office being the same as Mine's (I stopped reading for a bit just to make a mini thread about it on my private Twitter)! Whether it was intentional or a simple reuse of assets, it's a great nod to Mine's influence on his character.
As for Y7Jo's office in comparison to Mine's- if I may accidentally go on a bit of an analytical rant- it's a little funny how different they are despite being tangential in wanting a space for companionship (like you mentioned for Jo's case, it might have been for dramatic purposes, but it wouldn't hurt to try and examine the room at face value for a second).
Mine's office is comparatively brighter and more apparently inviting, and it's not just due to the nighttime setting of Jo's office as his office's walls are painted black- but at the same time, the contrast almost feels intentional. Mine's apartment, even if spacious, has the social pieces close to each other, especially in relation to his personal desk. On the flip side, Jo's desk is considerably isolated away from the grand table in the side of the room. In these differences, I think it does lead to a great representation of their relationships with people and what they wanted out of life: with Mine, despite wanting people to be close to him and in his proximity, he's ultimately alone and by himself. On the contrary, Jo appears satisfied with- at least- only having Masato in his life, the second chair undoubtedly being honorary to Arakawa in a similar vein. He isn't too concerned with getting close to anyone else, thus no need for his table set to be so nearby. I could just be talking about nothing though- yet I think these differences is a great way to show how despite inspiration from Mine, they divide off into different characters still (honestly I might steal from this ask and make a separate post about this because now I've gotten myself invested in set design- it can go in the same post as my venn diagram I guess lmao).
Nevertheless, RGGJo and Mine borrowing from each other design wise is also another fun bit- it's as if Yokoyama's grabbing people by the shoulders and practically begging us to realize Jo's influenced by him (don't worry Mr. Yokoyama, I see you). Ergo, Y7Jo and Masato being split from RGGJo is such an interesting take of the two characters: it not only helps highlight Jo's traits it really also heightens Mine's extended influence on Masato (their inability to shoot people standing still is probably going to be a new favorite comparison I hadn't noticed before LMAO).
Moving on though, that lost interview with Nakai and Tsutsumi's going to haunt me now: I'd love to be able to see it, I love actor interviews, especially when the actors featured are already so familiar with each other! It's so sweet how connected the two are- it's what makes it a little more unfortunate that we didn't get to see Jo and Arakawa on screen together more. On that note though, I actually had a similar conclusion that Jo was a solid representation of Tsutsumi's career thus far: his ability to play deep and sentimental characters that have a rough exterior while also possessing some action to the role that he initially sought after in his career really encapsulates his ability as an actor! All in all, I'm glad that Nakai and Tsutsumi were able to have strong connections to their characters in Y7- and I can't really argue against Nakai's dad-typecast: there's just something about him that screams 'father' to me even if, ironically as you said, he isn't a father to any kids.
7 notes
·
View notes
Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt. 5
[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.6][Pt.7]
“So you’re that dead kid everyone’s talking about.”
Danny smacked a trash bag into the purple clad vigilante. “You can pick up the glass.”
“Wait, I’m just here to-”
“Bother me when I’m working? At least the litterer brings me cash. You can help clean or you can leave. Plastics go over there.”
Danny pointed at a pile of plastics, ignoring Spoiler’s bemused look. Hard to tell, really, considering her mask.
“I’ll help clean if you answer some questions!” Spoiler chirped, already moving to pick out the glass in the general trash pile Danny’s managed to gather. He nodded.
“Alright. At least you’re helping. The other one just bothers me and leaves his stuff on the beach.”
Spoiler snorted. “I’m Spoiler. Is the litterer Batman?”
“Sure. I don’t really care what his name is,” which was a complete lie, Danny was a fan. It’s just that messing with Batman (especially after he couldn’t clean up after himself, honestly!) overrode his fan behavior. “But if I catch him leaving shit in the waters again…”
Danny frowned, eyes glowing. He could feel- even with his partial tangibility, the muck of Gotham's waters seeping into his boots. It was not giving 'Live, Laugh, Love' to Danny, and he needed it gone.
“Whatever. They dropped a lot of guns down here. You can deal with those too, yeah?”
“I'm pretty sure that's evidence?!”
“If you could call it that.” Danny plucked away the Styrofoam and the hazardous (more than regular, anyways) materials away from the trash pile so Spoiler could dig through with her gloves without contracting sixteen different sorts of illnesses.
“So, what brings you to Gotham?”
Danny pointed at the water. “Came for school. Stayed because you losers polluted the water with dead bodies and gross chemicals.”
“You go to school?”
“Hey, that’s discriminatory.”
“Oops! No, sorry! I meant-”
Danny waved her off, irritably separating a bottle cap from the crushed bottle. Seriously, what’s the point of putting the cap back on if you were going to throw it in the bay anyways?
“It’s fine. How else am I supposed to learn about the advancements made in the scientific industry otherwise?”
Even if Danny wasn’t too sure that science could sure stupidity, but a halfa could dream, right?
"So... do you just... listen in on lectures?"
Danny stared at her. "What else would I do in a class??"
"Oh. I just thought since you're dead and all, you'd do something more... fun?"
"I mean, I could terrorize the local villains for kicks, if that's what you meant."
Spoiler brightened. "Actually, yeah! That would be helpful! If Mr. Freeze keeps bringing the cold during my latte Thursdays, I'm gonna snap and wring his cold little chicken neck."
Danny snorted. "Alright. I will keep an eye out for this Mr. Freeze." Danny paused. "Hey, tell your friend to come down and help us."
"What- oh. Black Bat!" Stephanie waved her partner down. Black Bat gracefully slipped down towards the bay, casually knocking out two goons gunning for Spoiler.
'Careful,' Black Bat signed.
"Thanks!" Spoiler bounced on the heels of her feet. She swept an arm out. "Wanna help?"
Black Bat tilted her head and, after placing Danny under quick but thorough scrutiny, nodded.
'You can get the salvageable stuff. Anything you can't lift, leave to me.' Danny signed clumsily, placing emphasis on can't.
"You know sign language?"
"I'm not too good at it, I just learned this version."
He knew ghost-sign first, after all.
"Chop, chop. I don't have all night."
----
Danny learned that Black Bat had the skill to knock cans into their designated piles if he threw them in the air so she could kick at them.
"You two can come back anytime."
Spoiler whooped while Black Bat leaned back, smug.
"Wait, tell the litterer he owes me $200. He was short last time."
"...Are you telling me Batman owes you money?"
"Yeah. He might be in financial straights, so I gave him some lee-way."
Black Bat and Spoiler looked at each other.
----
"Hey, so guess what I learned about sea boy!"
Bruce's head swiveled to her with startling intensity. The rest of the clan tuned in.
"He knows sign language! Maybe he even knows ancient sign language! And goes to school, but since he's like, dead, he could only listen to the lectures."
"Bruce, Bruce, do not start a ghost-education plan. Stop. We don't even know if he even-" Dick tackled Bruce, who was already writing a petition as Bruce Wayne to give partial credit to students that diligently goes to class.
"Oh, yeah!" Stephanie shouted over the unraveling chaos. "He promised to fuck with our Rogues for a bit so we can get a break! And we also got a bunch of guns!"
"Where? Gimme!" Jason demanded.
"Do not give Todd more firearms!" Damian cut in.
"Also!" Stephanie grinned as Cass shook with laughter. "Batman's a debtor! He owes Phantom $200!"
"Ain't no fucking way." Tim cackled. "Hear that Bruce? That's karma! For not defending me when he called me broke!"
2K notes
·
View notes
the first time you tell opla!zoro that you love him, you're not sober either. (part one here!)
"i just-i just don't know what to do," you sniffle, another wave of emotions leaking through your tired eyes and onto your tear-stained shirt. "i'm so in love with him it makes me physically ill, nami."
"mhmm, i can tell," she replies absentmindedly, taking another sip from her drink in the musty light of the bar.
"nami," you plead, wasted out of your mind with your cheek pressed against the dirty table.
"sweetheart," she replies with the same melodrama, unable to hide the amusement in her voice.
"i'm so sad." your voice breaks on the last word and you make a loud hiccup-like noise that has the other guests of the bar eyeing you warily. you couldn't guess how long it'd been since you dragged nami from her hammock to go drink your sorrows away. to her credit, she stayed with you until her patience was thinner than a paper cut.
"i know you are," she says slowly after you'd gone over the same topic about four times in the last five minutes. "look, i feel like you should just tell him. he already told you his feelings."
"see, but that's the thing." she shoots you a skeptical look and you sigh back at her. "what if he's lying? or if he didn't actually mean it?"
"why would he lie about something so significant as that?"
"i don't know, maybe he thought i was someone else-"
"from what you've very thoroughly informed me, he expressed his feelings for you, and only you," she reminds you, tilting her glass toward you for emphasis. her gaze flicks up behind you and she raises her eyebrows briefly, like whoever was approaching was another tool for her entertainment. "tell him. it's now or never."
"what the hell do you-"
"you're out of your mind if you think it's okay to get them drunk before a mission." his voice immediately sobers you, white-hot shame coursing through your veins as you sit up and try to make yourself look presentable. thankfully, he's glaring daggers into nami, who merely shrugs and offers something about being here for a good time, not a long time. "c'mon, i'm taking you back to the ship," he mutters, lifting you from your seat and letting you grab his unfairly strong bicep for stability.
"why'd you come get me?" your steps wobble slightly on the cobblestone, but zoro's determination to keep you upright is unwavering. "i could have gone home with nami."
"i got worried about where you were. thought something happened."
"nothing happened except alcohol and feelings," you drawl absentmindedly, the airy feeling in your mind becoming fuzzier the longer you're with him.
"ah, two of my favorite things."
"liar, you only talk about your feelings when you're drunk." blinking slowly to recenter yourself, you cut him off before he can counter your accusation. "like, the other night. when you told me you loved me." the words slip out unplanned and his body becomes deathly still next to you, his arm so tense you could mine it with a pickaxe.
"i said...what?"
"that you loved me and that it was a secret," you say plainly, glancing at him to find his face a nearly imperceptible shade of pink. "what's with the blush?"
"it's nothing," he says quietly. sober you would have left the conversation at that, respecting his need for privacy and security about his private feelings.
drunk you, however, has no such manners.
"look at you, all red and shit." his ears become an even deeper shade of pink and you can't help laughing at his poor attempt to hide his embarrassment. "you wouldn't be so flushed if it was actually nothing, so what is it?"
"it's nothing," he restates. "it doesn't matter."
"it matters to me. you matter to me." his face feels like it's been set on fire and every place your body is making contact with his feels like an electric current. did you have any idea what your words were doing to him, he wondered. sure, what you said made his brain go foggy like the island coastline in the morning, but what you made him feel was so much worse. you made him feel so lovesick, it pained him.
"the sentiment is reciprocated," he murmurs low enough that you can barely hear him. even while you're dancing around in the streetlights, you've never looked so beautiful to him.
"can i tell you a secret?" he swallows thickly, unsure of how to continue navigating this situation. he settles for nodding, every movement restrained to keep from kissing you until the only oxygen in his lungs has gone through yours first. "you can't tell anyone, though."
"i'm a great secret keeper."
"no, you're not," you reply instantly and his mouth gapes indignantly. "you told me your biggest secret and you don't even remember it."
"fine. i won't tell anyone what you tell me, then. i don't know about anyone else," he promises. after what seemed like an eternity, he finally helps you into your hammock, taking great care to make sure you don't fall out. "if i do tell someone, you can kick me in the balls."
"enticing offer," you laugh and his mouth quirks in a half-smile that you only saw once in a blue moon.
"so, the secret?"
"oh, right," you whisper sleepily. "the secret is that i love you too. i love you so much that i want to throw up."
"i think that might be the alcohol, doll," he murmurs, his fingers gently brushing your cheek. "sober you and sober me need to have a long talk in the morning."
"we said that last time but didn't do shit about it."
"well, i think it's time i did something about it." your eyebrows furrow, completely forgetting anything you'd just talked about. it's okay, he figures. he'll show you how much you mean to him when you're both ready.
"did something about what?"
"how much i love you, too."
if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)
1K notes
·
View notes
welcome to the final show | H.S oneshot
my masterlist!
summary: you take a beautiful sign to the final show and have the sweetest interaction with harry. then somehow bump into him in italy 2 days later.
warnings: nothing but fluff, and a few little mentions of how he saved your life!
a/n: i am so fucking proud of h. i want to give him a hug more than anything. this is for all my lovelies who love hslot so fckn much it makes them ill.
also this is such an unrealistic oneshot but like that’s just the way for it ig
———
There’s a certain type of atmosphere that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.
It’s one that no matter how many photos or videos you take, you can’t capture it. One that no word has enough emotional range behind it to convey the feeling it opens up in you.
That is the only way to get close to even describe standing where you are.
You can’t lie, you had waited hours upon hours in the Italian sun just to feel the warm metal of the barricade underneath your palms.
You’d waited years just to get here in general.
When you turn your head to look behind you, you see tens of thousands of people there. Going from visible, overwhelmingly happy faces to a sea of tiny dots.
But you’re here. At the front.
You smile because you made it. This has, albeit dramatic, been a home to you over the past 2 years.
A creature comfort. One you followed every step of the way. And somehow you can’t believe you made it here, and neither would the girl back 18 months ago watching a pixelated Instagram livestream.
Standing in your outift, which took more rhinestones and glitter than you could ever have kept track of.
But you shined under the sun like a mirrorball, so it all felt worth it. Even though you swear there’s still glue stuck under your nails.
Your friends around you shared water, staying hydrated as the show starting neared. Wetleg had already preformed their final set. And tears had been randomly springing on you all day.
You heard the power in the crowd as they sung the prelude songs, goosebumps dotting over your body as you realise he’s probably able to hear it now.
Soon enough he’ll be looking at it. In all of its 100,000 people glory.
“You okay lovely?” Sofia, an Italian girl you’d met in the line checked in on you.
You nodded with a heartfelt smile. The whole experience was so bittersweet. Full of lasts.
“I’m okay. Just so so proud.” You nodded and she softly chuckles.
Her outfit was an electric blue that contrasted her tan skin, “I have some granola bars in my bag if you’re hungry? You should eat, we’ve been standing in the heat all day.”
Your best friend from your other side peered over, drawn back into conversation after being lost in the magic of the crowd surrounding her.
“On cry number— let me guess— 24 of the day?” She said it teasingly.
“Saying that as if you don’t already have mascara stains half down your face.” You grumble back jokingly, leaning your head back to look at the pastel blue sky.
You turned back to Sofia, “We’ll save them for after, maybe lay down on the ground and eat them or something.”
You only said no because you felt like you could probably be sick right now.
“Amore sciocco, troppo testardo il tuo bene, mio dio.” She mutters under her breath with a laugh, shaking her head at you disapprovingly.
“Trash talking her again in Spanish. God I wish I knew how to speak it.” You elbow your best friend at her quip.
You could stay in this moment forever.
As Bohemian Rhapsody begins playing you watch the sun go down, and in this very moment, It is your forever.
You live and breathe every second of it. All the way into peace piece, and as you’re gripping the girls around you for dear life as the lights start to dim along with the setting sun.
Harry coming has the arena screaming so loud it would have been heard for miles. He looks beautiful.
Like a shiny star up on stage. Blowing kisses and sending thank you’s to as many areas of the crowd be possibly could.
Mouthing words in Italian, causing Sofia to almost pass out beside you she screeched that hard the first time he did it.
And him counting in Golden with their language, speaking proudly into the mic— “Uno, due— uno, due, tres!”
“HES— WHAT THE FUCK!!” You’re laughing, holding her hand as she shouts frantically.
Songs bleed into one after another, going on your part from embarrassing screaming and dancing onto equally embarrassing crying.
The overwhelming feeling of seeing him so close— so damn close you can see each individual sequin on his silver outfit when his on the main stage at his mic stand in the centre.
You don’t even realise he’s doing a sign reading interlude until Sofia hands you yours from where it leant on the bottom of the barricade at your feet.
You were enamoured by him.
Taking the sign, your hands shook a little as he was on the main stage. Right in front of you.
His eyes are scanning the crowd, glancing over some signs and smiling.
“We have a choice tonight,” he begins, voice echoing through the speakers.
“we can either move quickly through signs, in which case, we’ll be able to give you some more songs!” An array of screams come from everyone, and you feel sick just at the prospect he was suggesting. The fact he could pull out any song.
He chuckles, walking further towards the area of the pit where you are, “Just an idea, just an idea!”
You’re pretty sure the girls are yelling something about him walking over, but you’re stunned at what’s happening overall, and you can’t even process what they’re saying.
But contradictory to what he’d just said. He stops a moment.
From his perspective, he saw a handful of very bright colours in the front of the crowd. One holding up an equally eye catching sign.
But he takes a moment to blink, focus in on the person holding it.
This girl has her eyes locked dead onto him, like as if he moves an inch— something could implode at any moment. Yet it somehow comes across in a flattering way.
And then he reads the sign.
‘you saved me. i cant thank you enough for that. BTW…’
His heart immediately pangs. Already too emotional at this whole event to be reading a sign like that.
You are in shock. Because he certainly just made eye contact with you and he’s been staring at your sign for a few good seconds.
“Can— wait can you turn that for me, love?” His voice falters a little.
As if Harry Styles just asked you to do something, you move with a haste you never had.
However you misinterpreted his question, turning the sign clockwise like as if it was upside down. Feeling a little embarrassed in yourself that it was around the wrong way.
He chuckles into the mic, causing a small uproar at the softness of it.
“Wrong way, it has B-T-W on it so I’m assuming there’s more on the back.”
“Oh, god— sorry!” You shout out to him, it sounding a little shaky, and you can’t lie that tears were threatening to spill from your eyes.
You had waited so fucking long to have a chance to tell him that he genuinely saved your life. And you’re finally doing it.
Also spinning the sign so the back of it is facing him, and his eyes flit gently over it too.
‘you have by far the prettiest smile ever.’ It reads, with a few large red hearts around it, decorated with glitter and rhinestones.
A dimple pops out on his cheek and he covers his mouth with a hand, flattered as ever.
“Why thank you.” He does a little bow as well, and you’re laughing out of shock. You’re interacting with him right now.
He straightens up, “I’m flattered as ever.” Prodding one of his dimples as he shows off just how pretty his smile is.
“And thank you for coming, it means everything to me.” He flushes a little, laughing at himself and your still starstruck reaction.
“You are stronger than you probably think. What’s your name?”
A tear breaks past your waterline, and you call out, “Y/N!”
Both girls at your side are clutching you like no tomorrow, and Harry takes his in-ear out to hear you better.
You call it out again, he makes only one off guess before he gets it. And your name rolling off his accent tongue makes your stomach flip.
“Y/N? That’s right— well that was a pretty good record for name guessing—“ he laughs, walking over as close as he can to the edge of the stage.
He holds the mic up to his mouth, “make some noise for Y/N everyone!”
You are in complete shock as you hear the whole arena cheer and holler for you, and Harry has this wholesome feeling of adoration wash over him as he sees your reaction.
The tears slipping down your pink cheeks. If he could, he honestly would go down there and wipe them off.
Not something he often find himself thinking. Yet here he is.
“Thank you for coming Y/N. What do you say we do some more songs?” He asks, smiling at the shocked raise of your brows.
“Yes, please.” You enthusiastically reply.
“Alright, you heard her. More songs it is!”
And so the show continues on. The second he breaks eye contact and moves away, a sob tears out of you.
You can’t believe that just happened. And the fact the rest of the show— unless you’re delusional, and making this up in your head— he lingers anytime he’s going past where you are. Catching your eyes, and smiling a little wider.
And you’re absolutely a wreck at the speech he makes, even though Sofia has to translate every word that leaves his mouth.
But if that nearly killed you, the piano ballad was honestly your final straw.
You cried so hard you couldn’t see the fucking stage at one point. And you wish you could say you were embarrassed for him to see you as he did one last round of goodbyes. But you couldn’t.
It was all your love and appreciation for him, poured out of you through the tears streaming down your face.
To your disbelief, he stops in front of you again, blowing a kiss to your friends and then one to you.
Bending down a little further to look at you, lips starting to move— from what your could hardly hear, and mostly got from reading his lips, he said ‘thank you, I love you.”
You blow a kiss back.
And before you know it, the show has ended. And there’s this full, yet hollow feeling inside of you.
Like you’re not sure how to feel. You miss him already, but that was by far the most amazing experience of your life.
You’re overwhelmed, with love and gratitude. And you, Sofia and your best friend end up doing what you’d proposed earlier before the show.
Eating chocolate granola bars with your back up against the barricade, tears still falling from your eyes.
———
Post love on tour depression is a real thing.
There is no normal explanation for having to force yourself to get up to have an amazing brunch in Italy of all places.
But 2 days after the show day, you’re doing just that. Dressing in a nice summer outfit at the very least, and taking your LOT bag with you.
The streets aren’t too busy considering it’s midday, and you make your way through them peacefully. Stoping to peak into stores, or take photos of little things you like every now and again.
And all your adventuring leads you to a beautiful little corner-cafe. One that the second you step foot into, you are comforted by its cozy feel & strong aroma of coffee.
The building itself had all its historic bones, but had been modernised. Fitted with sleek wooden floors and new furniture. Walls painted a crisp white to brighten up the already light filled room.
You find the menu hanging above where the counter is, on large pretty chalkboards.
You’re mulling over what to get when you hear a voice from beside you.
It causes you to jump a little at it’s unexpectedness, “I like your bag.”
It’s said with the tone that you can tell someone is smiling. And you turn to greet the person who had just spoken to you.
That’s when you’re met with a sight that knocks the wind from you.
Beside you— standing tall, with his tousled brown curls and rolled up linen long-sleeve is quite literally the man you saw on stage 2 nights ago.
“Oh my god—“ you jump a little at the realisation, it hitting you like a train within seconds. But you’re trying to keep you voice down, as to not cause some kind of scene.
He laughs at your stunned reaction, the way your ringed hand goes over your mouth. It’s a reaction he’s accustomed to. But the way your pretty features portray the expression has him all the more intrigued.
He does his classic introduction, “Hi, love. I’m harry.” Sticking his hand out, smiling. Like as if you didn’t know.
“I— well I did notice that.” You rush out in a nervous laugh. Glancing around looking for some kind of film camera, gauging if this is a set up and not a coincidence.
You’re left realising it’s just the two of you, and some older guy with a newspaper a few metres away at a window seat.
But no one with a camera or phone out filming this interaction.
You shake his hand after a moment of hesitation, telling yourself mentally you’re not going to cry as your relish the feeling of his calloused fingertips against the base of your wrist.
“Hi…” You flush profusely.
“What are you ordering?” He smiles at you, and your eyes are so obviously darting over his every feature.
Which you feel like you couldn’t stop from happening when he’s this close, and you’re able to fully see the plains of his beautiful face.
The structure of his jawline— that’s dotted with a light stubble—his cupids bow lips, the definition in his cheekbones. And fuck his eyes.
That are very intensely locked onto yours…
“Oh. I’m sorry. I…” you fumble for words a little, “probably like a tea. That’s usually my go to.”
He nods, “let me get it for you, please. How do you have it?”
“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t need to do that.” You insist immediately, because even though the gestures small, it feels like too much.
“Y/N.” He tuts gently.
“Weird that you remember that.” You think aloud, unable to filter the shock at the fact he just said your name. Even though the show was only 2 days ago, when he learnt it.
“Of course I do. You had quite the sign. I won’t lie, it made me tear up a bit.” He laughs, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.
“Well, It was true. Not to be cheesy or anything, but your music genuinely means everything to me.” You say carefully. Not wanting to come across as weird.
“And love on tour was one of the best experiences of my life. So… thank you for that.”
“Thank you.” He smiled at your shyness. And you recall the fact you told him he had a pretty smile.
Prettiest smile. The fact he knows you think that?
You wonder if he’s thought the same thing at all in the last 5 minutes.
“Your support means as much to me. Wouldn’t be able t’do what I do if it weren’t for people like you.”
“Now, how you have your tea?” He reiterates, asking for an answer, not for another polite declination.
“I— okay. Since it’s clear you’re not going to take no for an answer.” You sigh. Corners of your mouth upturning anyway at his stubborn ways.
You rattle off how you have it, and he nods, mentally noting it down like this is going to be a regular occurrence.
He walks over to the counter and you shuffle over to the side that you’ll pick up the order from. Watching carefully as he goes up, you take in his much more causal appearance to the usual extravagance of the outfits he adorns on stage.
Hes got a pair of denim shorts on—strong legs on display— paired with a white longsleeve that’s rolled up his fore arms.
You avert your gaze to the older Italian man at the register, clueless to who he is serving.
Until a younger girl, say 15, walks from the back room and does the biggest double take youve ever witnessed.
Harry has to be used to it, because there was no way anyone could miss that.
You’re feeling like you’re in a parallel universe. Because Harry is just casually strolling back over to you, like you’ve known each other for more than a total of two, 5 minute interactions.
You take a breath, reminding yourself simply that he is a human. Just like you are. He wakes up in the morning, has bad days and good days, has habits and routines he follows— just like anyone else.
You keep this in consideration as you open your mouth to speak, “Thank you for doing that. How have you been?”
He smiles at your shy tone, a tiny wholesome feeling bubbling up at your question.
“I’m good, honestly. It’s been a big start to the year. I’m excited to take some time off even though wrapping it up the other night was really hard.” He nods, eyes casually trailing the man who was making the drinks.
“If it makes any difference, I was sobbing like a baby at pretty much every point of the show.” You laughed.
“I did see your very tear stained cheeks.” He shocks himself little with his continuation,
“Would’ve jumped down and given you a hug if I had the bloody time.” And he smiles with gratification as you mask your shocked reaction as much as possible. However, tiny little micro-movements in your face were still popping through. “I went a little overtime with the speech.”
Just human to human. You drew a tiny breath through your nose, “Which was great by the way. I mean my friend had to translate the whole thing, but was also another tear jerker.”
He goes to say something else, interrupted by the call of his name from the counter.
In which he collects the drinks from the lovely man, smiling at him with a warm thank you before turning to come back to you.
“Here you go, darling.” He hands over yours, and his green eyes look bright as ever.
The darling makes your stomach flip. He’s British, they use pet names like this in passing conversation often. But fuck if you didn’t know any better you’d think there was a chance he was flirting with you.
“Thank you. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” You repeat.
“You have a different accent, you’re not from Italy no?” He interjects and you’re a little confused at the sudden change of topic.
“No I’m not from here…?” you laugh.
“So you’ve travelled all this way to come see me I’m assuming, the least I can do is buy you a tea. Think of it as a thank you.”
He tests the waters a little further, “i don’t usually stay in cafes for overly long but, if you have time to sit for a bit…”
“You continue to amaze me.” You chuckle, slowly following behind him as he pulls up a chair, back to the window.
“You also made me a very flattering sign. So im just being courteous, as a way to return the favour.” He smirks almost. And you’re honestly not strong enough to endure this.
“And that little piano thing you did? Is this compensation for my mental health?” You hold the cup up and he lets out a surprised laugh at your gentle quip.
“Yes, I’ve heard word that it came across as emotional as I’d intended.”
“You could hear a pin drop in the whole arena.” You nodded, taking a sip of the tea he’d bought you.
“I was so worried I was gonna fuck it up somehow.” He shakes his head, hand running through his hair as though he was anxious just at the thought.
“It sounded amazing, Harry. Made me feel a lot how fine line did when I first listened to it.”
He looks sincere with gratitude as you talk. And it stays that way as he continues on conversation with you.
You know heaps about him— you’re a fangirl that’s practically your job— yet he doesn’t know anything about you. Leaving him curious about many aspects of your life, and also with plenty of questions. Ones he really can’t believe he is even asking given you’re a fan, and he’s never actually done this before.
Whatever this is, because it felt a lot like a first date. With the way he asked where you were from, who you came to Italy with, where you grew up.
The whole lot. Your drinks both long since finished, but the questions still flowing between you two. Like there was never enough information to be learned.
He was interrupted by a call, and it almost popped this little bubble you’d made around yourselves.
Which possibly wasn’t a bad thing for him. But it served as a reality check for you.
You’re still just a fan at the end of the day. Even though your not sure how that term stands after he knows about your favourite foods, or childhood stories from your younger years. Because you feel like now that he knows that, the dynamic feels different to you.
But most of all you dreaded the fact you had to say goodbye again. But now you have to say it knowing that he walks away from this knowing things personal to you.
You realise he’s on the phone to his mum as he talks, “Yea, tell Gem to grab them anyway… I’ll be back soonish.”
He glances up at your after a moment of brief silence, “I’m just out with a friend of mine I… bumped into. So I’ll see you soon, okay?”
A friend of his?
“Alright, bye, I love you.”
And just like that the phone hung up.
“I’m feeling very special at my label. A friend of yours.” You laugh, but not lying whatsoever.
“Was m’mum. We’re having a late lunch at her BNB.” He explained, and the fact he didn’t object his choice of wording meant even more to you than anything.
You stare at him a moment, both mutually realising that this moment was seemingly going to have to end at some point.
“I don’t often do things like this.” He shrugs, watching your eyes train on random objects around the room as you get lost in thought.
“What do you mean?” You ask.
“Never sat down with a fan and just had a drink. It was lovely, thank you for being so polite.” He smiles again at you.
It surprised him just how far he went with it. But you had this gentle aura about you. He knew of all people, you were safe to share this private slice of himself with.
“Thank you for buying my drink… to have spent this time talking, it— well it meant a lot to me.”
“I would give you my number if my manager wouldn’t kill me.”
As stated, he continues to surprise himself just how far he’s going.
Your brain stalls at his comment.
“You could just have mine? Buy a burner phone and text me off it.” You make the first suggestion that comes to mind and he barks out a laugh.
“Could just reaffirm that you weren’t going to sell my number off to fans on Twitter?”
“Ah, that could also work too.” You nod, raising your brows.
He pulls his phone from his pocket, and your heart genuinely palpitates. Because how the fuck had you managed this.
“Gimmie yours, if you’d like?” He slides it over, and you feel like you’re picking up something with more value than just a phone. I mean it’s Harry Styles’ phone of all things.
You begin to type it in, glancing up as his gaze is trained on you, “how many numbers of fans do you have banked up in here?”
He rolls his eyes at your tease, still smiling, “I’ll have you know you’ll be the first. If my mums counts though, then only two.”
“I just…” he pauses, pursing his lips as he looks for the right words, “knew I’d regret it if I didn’t have a way to get in touch with you. I’d say we’ve got a lot in common and it’s always nice to meet new people. And I don’t want to be thinking later ‘wow, she was lovely, wish I could have kept in touch’. Y’know?”
You send yourself a text, just a simple ‘:)’ so it saves in his recent messages. “Well, I suppose I’d be a little sad too. Probably start sending emails to your manager trying to find a way to get in touch again.”
He laughs at this, standing up from his chair and pocketing his phone in his shorts once you hand it back to him.
You also rise from the table, watching his movements keenly.
“Makes this part less sad.” He says, in reference to the impending goodbye, “I’m not leaving Italy for a little bit though, and if you’re sticking around as well, maybe I can buy your more cups of tea— to make you feel even more guilty about it, of course.”
You let out a soft chuckle, “Yea, I’m not leaving for a little while…”
He walks to your side of the table, not hesitating to pull you into a hug that leaves you winded.
You freeze a millisecond before jumping to embrace it. Enjoying the gentle yet strong feeling of his body holding yours. And the way his hands are ever-so-slightly caressing your lower back.
“Thanks for hanging out, alright? Don’t be shy to message me.” He murmurs into your hair.
“I— okay. I won’t. Thank you, Harry.” You smile into the crook of his neck.
He gives a final squeeze before pulling back. Fighting the internal urge to press a little kiss to your temple.
“I’ll see you around, hopefully. Bye Y/N.” He gives you a final smile before waving goodbye, and heading out the cafe.
Your head is reeling as he exits. Unsure if you just imagined that whole thing. You needed someone to pinch you, because as far as your concerned that whole interaction was something you dreamed up.
You check your phone to see the time.
1:53pm
1 new notification
Unknown Number | :)
So that actually did just happen.
———
To reaffirm that you weren’t the only person in the world to witness what happened today, you see a tweet reposted on an update account that reads,
so, i just saw harry styles in the cafe i work at, and he sat down and drank a tea with someone he talked to at a show. not naming the interaction for privacy but like… what the fuck?
And secretly you smile. Maybe this is something you’ll keep to yourself for a bit. Like he’s a new secret friend of yours.
———
part two!!
1K notes
·
View notes