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nincompoopydoo · 3 years

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PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— PALM TO PALM IS HOLY PALMER’S KISS ; PART 3 / ?

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 1846

SUMMARY: You’re back to teaching at Gotham High and you end up overlooking rehearsals for the GHS drama club’s upcoming annual play: Romeo and Juliet that no one ever attends. In the spirit of keeping your students’ hopes up, you decide to take it upon yourself to draft out a plan to drive more people to come to the play. The key is the man you’re in love with.

WARNINGS: Vague description of a nightmare, death and an annoying teenager.

A/N: This is really going slowly like a true slow burn. I hope yall like this one. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

In the light of your unemployment as a teacher, Gotham High miraculously offered your old job back after Mrs Wilson, one of the senior English Literature teachers, died of a heart attack unannounced. In all seriousness, apologies were made, admitting they had a mistake with firing you because well, you were clearly a passionate teacher. To your surprise, you were told your students even missed you. Hence, you accepted a job from GHS once again because you would do anything to avoid the smell of burgers and the sounds of hungry crying children. After the whole burglary incident, the Big Belly Burger at midtown was forever doomed as customers gradually decreased over time. It was Gotham after all, people should be used to these kinds of things by now. Including witnessing Batman saving you, the whole experience felt like a fever dream. As excited you were and weirdly unbothered by the whole near-death experience, you realized that if you were to talk about it, no one would genuinely believe you anyway. He was a myth to most citizens of Gotham, but you’re an exception because you’re well acquainted with the knowledge that Bruce definitely knows Batman.

And oh boy, do they talk.

It’s your secret to keep and so is the Batarang you stole. You’re also dying to tell Bruce.

So, you find yourself back in the hallways, crowded with sweaty teenagers, but you would choose this over anything else in a heartbeat. Apart from returning to teaching uninterested students about the works of Shakespeare and Harper Lee and forcing reading lists onto them, you are also replacing Mrs Wilson as the GHS Drama Club’s advisor. Stage performance may be personally foreign to you but plays were practically your forte. That was how you ended up spending your Tuesday afternoons, preparing the members for the club’s annual play. This time, they decided to perform the classic: Romeo and Juliet.

As an English teacher, you were frankly sick of the play, forbidden love was a tad overrated to you. Yet the kids were genuinely trying their best. Shaniqua and Oscar were currently rehearsing their lines as the two infamous star-crossed lovers; You watched them with pride. The two were quiet in your classes but they truly shone on the stage of the school theatre.

“And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss—teach, what does this whole scene even mean?” Shaniqua exclaims and you chuckle, “This scene is simply a metaphor where Romeo is a pilgrim wanting to erase his sins and Juliet is a saint. So, he is basically trying to convince her to kiss him so that he can truly be free of sin,” your explanation echoes through the room, and you notice Oscar turning red when you mention the word ‘kiss’. It was clear as day that the poor boy really liked the girl he’s currently hand in hand with but you don’t want him to feel nervous and uncomfortable about the thought of kissing her. “Now Oscar, you can kiss her on the cheek and that’s fine. Shaniqua, say it with more emotion, okay? Everyone got it?” The response you received was a sputter of hums and nods. Before you could continue, Josh, who plays Lord Capulet and is sitting lazily on the handmade throne, speaks up much to your dismay, “Why is it so important that we put so much effort into this. It’s not like anyone is going to come.” The kids around him began agreeing with his statement, and it was honestly completely expected of him but it was the truth. No one attends the drama club’s annual play. As you're trying to calm everyone down, your phone buzzes on the table in front of you. It’s a text from Bruce, asking if you could come over tonight, phrasing it like he’s a schoolboy sneaking from his parents to meet with a girl late at night. Then, like an epiphany you have an idea although there’s an eighty percent chance it wouldn’t go through. Nevertheless, you turn to the rest of the students with a hint of a smile on your lips. “I might have just the idea to solve that.”

A brief span seemed like an eternity when sleep doesn’t come easy to you. Tonight was a different case; thoughts were completely clear and concise. In much need of sleep, you steal the chance to savour in this clarity and serenity for as long as you could. To feel his warmth, arm gently resting on your abdomen and the occasional whiff of his deodorant from his ebony shirt you’re dressed in. If this was what bliss feels like, you never want it to go away. Your eyes grow heavy, flickering into darkness due to exhaustion from a long day of rehearsals. At once, you’re struck with the reminder of the idea you had this afternoon. It is more of a favour, involving none other than Bruce. There’s a tinge of guilt whenever favours are involved because you never liked asking for help. You were furiously independent and responsible, relying on others was out of the question. Yet, Bruce has always seemed to find a way to weave himself in your mistakes and problems, constantly there to help out. You have to remind yourself this isn’t about you. It’s for the kids. Special guest, Bruce Wayne, playboy and billionaire. Sounds awesome.

As your consciousness begins ebbing away, you feel Bruce shift from beside you, grasp tightening upon your waist. Before your dazed mind could even fully process that he was in the midst of a nightmare, his eyes are wide open, heart-pounding and it seizes him up instantly. With deep breaths, he closed his eyes once more, unable to shake the feeling of dread that rattles in him. Then, a sudden cold touch to his arm—he jumps and snaps his head to look over his shoulder.

It’s you, still laid in bed with a prominent frown upon your brows. Your hand squeezes his forearm and all he feels is instant relief. His heart still pounds, not in fear but with affection. “Are you okay?” you drawled as you watch his lingering hand, fingers weaved between the strands of hair. The silver ones glint under the low light, contrasting the deep brown ones. You notice how his hair had grown along with his five o’clock shadow becomes more evident by the days. His face away from you, finally nodding in response to your question. “Yeah, just... a bad dream. His voice is subdued as he shifts under the sheets, head leaning against the headboard. Despite your weakened state, you bring yourself to sit up, twisting your body to face him properly. "You wanna talk about it?” you say, patting his shoulder lightly in a comforting manner. You watch him rub his eyes, exhale tightly and shake his head. “No. Anything but that.”

His response comes out almost harsh but Bruce doesn’t mean for it to be perceived in that way. His dream was the usual, the normal ones he’s used to by now but in times of stress overwork, they have started to become more intense and violent. This time it involved you, for the first time, and he watched you vividly get shot in the forehead—trails of his memory as Batman when he encountered you at the burger restaurant with the muzzle of a gun inches away from you. It haunts him to think that if the circumstances were different if you hadn’t texted him those dreaded four words, you might be dead.

He certainly is not telling you about the dream. Never in a million years.

Bruce turns to you and you’re still staring at him, worry carved deep in your furrowed brows. Change of topic was merely necessary at this point. “So, how has school been? The kids still mean to you?” Classic Bruce, always sweeping his problems under the antique Persian rug. You don’t blame him because you wouldn’t know better.

It was your turn to sigh at the mention of school but since tonight’s pillow talk is heading towards your job as an English teacher at GHS, you might as well use the opportunity to pitch in your plan. “Still mean, but the drama club kids are really great,” You thumb the edge of the blanket, unable to hide your growing smile. “Speaking of which, the annual play is next Friday and they have been rehearsing all week but,” you paused as you watched his right brow gradually lift. “No one comes for it. Like, no one and I hate to see all their efforts just thrown out the window like that—”

“So, you want me to go for it.”

You blinked, wondering if your explanations were too obvious of its underlying intent or Bruce could just read you like an open book. You won’t be surprised if it’s the latter.

“If it’s no biggie. You don’t have to because I know you’re very busy but I don’t want the special guest to end up being the Big Belly Burger mascot.” Your smile widens and Bruce chuckles. Hell, it’s probably past midnight and you’re still able to find ways to be terribly funny. Literally terrible. After a beat of silence, he clears his throat. “I’ll clear my schedule.” It didn’t need much anticipation or thought because despite everything going on in his life, he knows he’ll do just about anything for you. You’re practically beaming at him and he finally sees it’s all worth it in the end. “Thank you, Bruce.” Your voice is sweet, and it makes his heart swell ever so slightly.

He sometimes wishes the two of you weren’t trapped in this loophole of unsaid confessions and hidden strong emotions for the other.

It almost comes naturally when he leans to you and presses a swift kiss to your forehead. Instead, it’s contradicting everything the two of you consider normal. He isn’t thinking straight and now your smile has disappeared, mouth agape and eyes very wide. Your brain stops.

Uh, what the hell just happened?

It hits him like a punch to the gut and the growing awkward silence is deafening. Yet, he doesn’t apologise because if he does, it doesn’t mean anything when in reality, it means so much more than just an accidental gesture. You don’t mention anything because you don’t objectify his actions. Kissing Bruce was fine when there are no strings attached but a peck to the forehead is way too affectionate for the man.

Before the both of you begin to overthink the events of a few moments ago, Bruce’s rational conscience kicks in and he clears his throat. “Get some sleep. You had a long day today.” He pats you on the shoulder awkwardly and you hum, shifting your head to lay back on the pillow. “Yesterday.” you correct him as it’s well past midnight. He chuckles, now laying flat on his back as he stares at the ceiling. Silently, the two of you agree to forget whatever happened a minute ago and to just...sleep it off.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #batman #batman x reader #batman imagine #justice league #pining bagels repeat

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tiny-anxious-mess · 5 years

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Dress to Impress

Summary: It’s date night for Logan and Roman. Logan searches for something to wear and instead finds a dress, some self-doubt, and a whole lot of love. (Human AU)

Pairings: Logan/Roman, Logince

Warnings: A few swears, kissing (though its nothing heated or anything), and some self-doubt and insecurity from Logan

Notes: second story!! thank you for all of the lovely comments on my first story, every single one makes my day! this fic was inspired by all the lovely fanart ive seen of all the different sides in dresses and i felt like writing something romantic so who better to pair logan with than the prince himself? haha hope yall enjoy this!

***

It wasn’t that Logan was nervous, he was just... hesitant.

It was date night and a date might entail looking good. Roman would say that Logan always looked good, but you couldn’t fault Logan for putting in an effort.

But tonight was different.

There was a meteor shower tonight and Logan wasn’t about to miss a second of it. Roman had tried to surprise him by scheduling their monthly date night on that night, but Logan was already one step ahead. He had a picnic basket and everything.

The night wasn’t the problem; he wasn’t hesitating because of the night or the date or the anything.

It was internal. He knew that; he had enough self-awareness for that, no matter his struggle with other such emotions.

He wanted to be comfortable for the night. They would be there long and it was supposed to be a warm night. And so he looked through his wardrobe and looked and looked and looked and—

Here was his problem.

Right in front of his was a dress.

It didn’t come as a surprise to him to find it; he had bought it himself ages ago, though he never had the right chance to wear it. But tonight presented to perfect opportunity to wear it.

And therein lied the catch.

It wasn’t that he was insecure or that he didn’t have the confidence to wear the dress out, it was just that... well, he had never worn something like it out with Roman.

Playing around with his clothing was nothing new—college had been an exciting time to mess around with it all. But as he grew a few years older, it was something that fell to the side. He dressed practically and appropriately depending on the situation. He rarely, for lack of a better term, dressed up just because he wanted to.

But now there was the dress and the date and Logan didn’t know what to do.

It’d be easy just to slip it on and go out. It was nothing fancy, just a short-sleeved sundress. It was practical, he told himself as he picked it up. It’s going to be warm out and this is nice and light and—it’s practical.

He didn’t understand why he was so hesitant. He wasn’t afraid of what other people said, he wasn’t afraid of himself. He just...

Roman had never seen him in a dress.

Hell, Roman had never seen him in anything other than pants and a shirt, what he normally wore. He had never seen the photos of Logan and Virgil, an old college friend, in drag for that one night after finals. He had never seen the makeup Logan kept in a bag in his bottom desk drawer. He had never seen Logan as anything other than Logan.

Not that he wouldn’t be Logan in the dress; of course he’d still be Logan. He’d just be Logan in a dress and that... that made him hesitate.

He won’t hate you for this, Logan reminded himself. There’s no reason to think that he would so don’t think about it. He loves you now and so he’ll love you tonight, dress or not. It’s illogical to think of the negative outcomes. You can’t predict the future; or at least, none of his past behavior is relevant; he’s given no indicators that he might react negatively to you in a dress.

Logan sighed heavily, squeezing the dress in his hands. He placed it down and reached for his phone, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

He pulled up Virgil’s contact.

Me: Virgil, sorry if I am interrupting something, but once you get the chance, remind what is the breathing technique you use to calm yourself down. I am... in need of some assistance.

Virgil: Nah you’re not interrupting anything b. I use the 4-7-8 breathing thing but it could be different for you. nothing is exactly guaranteed to work for any single person

Me: Thank you.

Virgil: Is everything alright? you’re usually the one helping me with breathing

Me: I am fine, just... I’m second-guessing myself and it is unnecessary. I simply need to ground myself for a moment.

Virgil: what are you nervous about?

Me: I’m not nervous, just hesitant.

Virgil: sure Jan, talk to me

Me: Mm. I just. Roman and I are going to the open field down the street for the meteor shower. I was looking for what to wear, seeing as it's supposed to be warm tonight, and came across a dress I bought a few months ago. I think it’s practically that I wear it but I. I’m being ridiculous and am second-guessing myself.

Virgil: Oh okay well relax roman is gonna drop dead when he sees you in the dress, its the blue one yeah?

Me: Yes. And I am perfectly relaxed. I am cool. I am chilled.

Virgil: why must you torture me this way?

Me: I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.

Virgil: how the hell can you sound smug through text?? anyway roman will adore the dress and you and if he doesn't, ill fight him

Me: Violence is not necessary but the intent behind the action is much appreciated, Virgil. Thank you.

Virgil: no problem man, text me if you need anything or a hitman!!

Me: You’ve been hanging out with Remus, haven’t you?

Virgil: only when I'm willing to risk my sanity!!!!!!

Logan sighed again, putting down his phone. It was pointless to torture himself any further.

He stood up, grabbing the dress once again and moving towards the bathroom.

Time to get dressed.

***

Logan and Roman arrived separately. Roman had to drive home from work and then to the field. Logan was already there, ten minutes early, with the picnic basket, blanket, telescope, books, and journal for the night.

He sat on the blanket, tugging on the hem of the dress. It would be fine, he told himself. He had nothing to worry about other than getting mauled by a bear.

He rolled his eyes at himself. God, now I sound like Virgil.

He shook his head, forcing himself to shake off his doubts. It would be fine, it was just him and Roman and the stars. He didn’t need to think about anything else.

And yet when he saw Roman’s car pull up next to his a few yards away, his heartbeat quickened.

Logan breathed in—one, two, three, four—held it—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven—and then out—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

He stood, smoothing down his dress, and began towards Roman.

The man in question got out of his car, a bouquet of flowers in hand. Logan was able to identify roses, primroses, and red camellias. It was a rather beautiful arrangement; Logan could tell Roman had done it himself. He always insisted on carrying out his romantic gestures on his own.

Roman beamed when he saw Logan but it wasn’t until he used the flashlight on his phone that he reacted.

He paused then fully stopped. His mouth gaped, lips apart in an “o” formation. The flowers previously held closer up to his chest fell with his hand, now held loosely by his side.

Logan bit the inside of his cheek and reached up to readjust his glasses. He cleared his throat, saying, “Hi.”

God, “Hi”? Really, that’s all I can think of?

“H-Hi,” Roman stuttered. Even in the darkness, Logan could see the color in his cheeks, at the bridge of his nose.

“Ready?” Logan asked, wishing to fill the silence.

Roman blinked multiple times, eyes flickering over Logan before he swallowed and nodded. “I-I, um, yeah--yes! Yes, I’m ready!” he exclaimed, cheeks flushing fully this time. Then he paused and thrusted out the flowers. “Here! They’re for you! Of course, they’re for you; I didn’t exactly plan on doing anything else tonight and even if I was, I certainly wouldn’t be getting them flowers. Unless it was someone like my mom or mama, or--”

Logan walked forward, took the flowers, and kissed him.

Roman followed with no hesitation. He reached up to cup Logan’s face, lips quirking up ever so slightly when Logan turned his face into Roman’s palm.

They parted, lingering. “You look amazing,” Roman murmured against Logan’s lips. “Completely left me speechless.”

Logan snorted, smiling. “You had plenty of words, they were just jumbled,” he said quietly.

“That’s what you do to me,” Roman said. “Leave me all scrambled. It’s rude to deprive a poet of his words.”

“I never deprived you of anything.” They had begun to sway back and forth, rocking in each other's arms, still just barely parted.

“Oh please,” Roman scoffed, lips quirking again. He pulled back just enough to meet Logan’s eyes, gaze hooded and warm. “I could have a whole soliloquy written and memorized, and suddenly I see you and my thoughts fall to the side, my mouth goes dry, and all I can see is you. You, only you; you standing, sitting, humming, speaking, studying, laughing, smiling. You, just you; it’s enough to make me speechless. Enough to make me stop and stare. You’ve bewitched me and yet you are the cure.”

Logan was no good with emotions, even less so with translating them well into the words. Roman made it seem so easy. But Logan didn’t need to match Roman’s talent beat for beat.

Logan pressed a quick peck to Roman’s lips before resting his forehead against Roman’s. “I love you,” he whispered because he didn’t say those words a lot--perhaps not often enough--but he meant them every time he said it.

“I love you too.” The words sounded sweet from Roman, ringing orange and pink like a sunset in Logan’s mind.

Logan’s hand met and grasped Roman’s. “Shall we?” he asked, leaning back towards the field.

Roman smiled--and he says I make him speechless, Logan thought--and squeezed his hand, bringing it up to his lips, sealing the night with one final kiss.

“Let’s.”

#logan sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #logince #sanders sides fic #toph writes #virgil sanders

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raymookie · 7 years

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My life in Japan...so far.

“Are you Chinese?” I was asked this question by a preschooler last month. She then began reciting her mother’s license plate number as another kid played in my hair. Later that day, I went for a run, and as I passed by the park I noticed a baseball team having practice. Everyone started screaming, “Raymon-sensei! Hellooo!”. Celeb status or nahh?? This has been my life so far in a nutshell.

Recently, it dawned on me that this is the first time I am living alone. It is also my first full time job and it’s incredible. Granted it’s only been a few months, I don’t mind it at all. The adults in my life never highlighted the joys of growing old. Independence, freedom, a salary… So now that I’m rich, I go shopping every weekend at chic boutiques in Tokyo. The more expensive things are, the more I desire them actually. Here is a list of things I’ve bought so far with my rich ass:

Richie Rich’s shopping list

New drawers, laundry detergent, rubber gloves, various cleaning products, dishware, bed + sheets and blanket, orthopedic pillow, towels, thermals, broom, heater, student loan payments, credit card payments...

Not what you expected is it. Granted you have to handle business as an adult, the joys of being free far exceed the tediousness of dealing with responsibilities. Earning a decent living wage has also been nice.

at the wine festival a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t understand what was going on but it looked cool.

shake shake potato killing the game. He had been talking about the school festival all year because he was so excited to perform.

My first month of school

I don’t even know where to begin, honestly. The kids here have made this experience what it is. They’re the reason for all of this after all. They call me Raymon-sensei, a title I don’t feel like I deserve but I’ve accepted it. Teachers used to be like gods in Japan but there has been a decline in the level of respect given to them (likewise in the U.S. in my opinion). However, they are still highly respected here compared to the U.S. We could learn a thing or two from Japan in this regard.

They begin class with a greeting. One kid gets up and walks to the front of class then says:

1. Tachimashou - Stand up

2. Kiwotsuke - Fix your posture

3. Korekara eigo no jugyou wo hijimemasu - Let’s start English class

4. Onegaishimasu - Please do me this favor

The first time it happened I was like “What the the hell...?” because the kid shouted it, haha. And the rest of the class stood at full attention. Imagine a 7 year old yelling “Stand!...Fix your posture!...” and the rest of the class actually snapping at attention, taking him seriously and following directions. It was so militaristic I thought they all might drop down and do 20 push-ups. It was very impressive to see a group of first graders doing this and with such confidence and authority. Yes, the kids are adorable...all of them. Even the bad ones. Because compared to some of the kids I’ve worked with in the U.S., they’d still be considered good.

A lot of people in Japan know some English but they are so afraid of making mistakes they refuse to speak. This a big problem at the Jr. High I’m working at. I’ve been brainstorming solutions to how to fix this. The more I learn Japanese, they more open up to me and get more comfortable speaking English with me. That has worked the best so far but I can’t imagine they’d maintain that confidence level with strangers. There are several kids who love speaking to me who are probably ENFPs just like me. I am thankful to them because sometimes it can be frustrating trying to teach English to kids who don’t see the use in it and who are too shy to speak. The days I work at the elementary schools school (Tuesdays and Thursdays) are actually enjoyable though. The elementary school kids are very responsive and try to communicate with me in and outside of the classroom. They teach me words in Japanese and I teach them words in English. Also, I just began bringing my ukulele to class too and we’ve been jammin and learning English at the same time. It’s hella kawaii (cute).

School festival shenanigans. Can you tell what’s going on?

Recently I started cleaning the school with the students and I’ve grown a lot closer with them since. It’s not required that I clean with them but the other teachers do and every student has to. I read on someone’s blog that once they began cleaning with the students their relationship with them instantly improved. It’s actually worked! Along with learning Japanese, this has helped me tremendously. They’re on very strict schedules so this (and lunch time) is the only time I really get to interact with them outside of class. I find that I actually clean my apartment more now which is cool.

Every Monday I play ukulele and sing with a student named Karen. She has down-syndrome but she is still very functional and participates in most activities at the Jr. High. We are practicing the ABCs right now! A couple of weeks ago we quizzed her on the alphabet. I would sing out different letters and she had to point to which one I was saying. It was too much for my soul yall… Keep at it Karen!

the women of Kawakami Jr. High.

class jump rope contest at the school festival.

student presentations at the school festival.

My ride or die, Shiho-sensei

I have a mom in every country I’ve lived in and Japan is no exception. I promise you I don’t plan it, it just happens. There is my actual mom, Sabrina, my best friend’s mom, Michelle, Alejandra in Argentina, Martinha in Brazil, and now Shiho in Japan. I just vibe with moms, I don’t know why. Maybe it’s my cheeks. And then once they find out I like to eat they can’t resist their motherly urges to care for me. None of them can replace my mom though obviously but I love them love them yes I do! Shiho is my mom in Japan. She is a badass and we both like to break the rules a little so we have that in common :P I say this because she broke Japanese tradition and married a foreigner, haha. She was twenty-one and studying abroad in Australia when she met her husband to be. He is a finance professor at a university and for more than twenty years she was working at the Japanese consulate in Australia. She’s lived in Brisbane, Australia for 30 years so she has a slight Australian accent. It’s also kind of Japanese. Either way, it’s very cute. She’s also a little fashionista like my actual mom. Yesterday she basically told me how she would always swag out in Australia but she can’t stunt on these hoes in our town because everyone dresses so casually here. I mean...that’s what she wanted to say but she’s so polite, lol. She’s been in Kawakami for the past seven years taking care of her mom and she misses her family. Her husband is visiting right now so it’s nice to see her happy. He’s leaving tomorrow and I just convinced our boss to let her leave early. She was going to stay after work to help some students with their speeches! I was like noooo Shiho-sensei, not today. Go home to yo man. This was very small in comparison to all the things she does for me - takes me shopping, lots of translation, gives me a ride to work, etc. but I’m finding more and more ways I’m able to help out. We got each others backs. Love you Shiho-sensei!

Black in Japan

I want to make it clear that I am living in a village of about 3900 people, it is one of the richest villages in Japan, and I am as happy go lucky as they come. Take into consideration the different factors that may be at play i.e. gender, location; and don’t make generalizations about every black person’s experience in Japan. There is an opinion section in the Japan Times titled Black Eye which I have found very helpful in understanding my experience as an African-American in Japan.

I absolutely love it here. Japanese people are so respectable & kind. There are many critiques to be made about Japanese culture but I don’t wish to highlight them right now. The good certainly outweighs the bad though. My only wish is that I had spoke Japanese before coming to Japan. I think it would be impossible to live here without speaking the language unless you have a translator. There aren’t many fluent English speakers in Japan, let alone in the countryside, so it can be quite difficult to make friends. But from my experience, if they see that you are trying they will meet you halfway! There have been so many people I’ve met who I thought were indifferent or simply uninterested in me until I said something to them in Japanese. Their faces lit up when they realized I was trying. Our conversations are like a potluck - they bring their bit of English and I bring my bit of Japanese and WHAM. Friendship. I’m cheesy, I know, but that’s really how it’s been.

Most people here are absolutely fascinated by black people. I don’t usually mind the attention but sometimes I just want to blend in. Most all of my interactions with Japanese people are positive but there have been a couple of times where I felt uncomfortable. Once was with a group of high school girls who pretended to get scared when they saw me, but their was a ringleader and I could tell the other girls were just following her. She was rotten though. But there have been a few times when I turned a corner and actually scared people though so maybe her shock was legit. The second time was with a student's mom at the grocery store who kept saying “interesting” and “funny” in Japanese. Usually those comments wouldn’t bother me but the way she said it and how she was staring at me, like I was some rare pokemon. But thinking back on the few times I’ve seen them at the grocery store, she might have been flirting. Her daugher also gives me the eyes all the time! Have you ever had to avoid a Jr. High school girl? Talk about awkward...No, no, no cougar and cub. Not today or ever…

“Are you Chinese?” “Do you have a perm?” “Do you have any treasure?” “Why do you want to be a teacher?” “Raymon-sensei you are handsome like me”

These are some questions and comments I’ve received from the kids here, lol. Many laughs to be had every day.

My interactions with the elementary kids are by far the best. The most notable experience was when I visited the preschool & kindergarten with Shiho-sensei. In each class we visited, the kids froze. They had no idea who or what I was, what I was doing there, or what they should do. We walked past a preschool class that had just begun eating lunch. I said, “Helloooo” in a big voice like I do at every school I visit. “Haroo...”, they began in unison, their heads turning slowly until they froze in shock. Their spoons hung mid air and their eyes widened. It was like a scene from a movie, I swear! I laughed so hard. One girl got up and ran to her teacher in the back of the class. Moments like these I have to fight the urge to start screaming and acting like a monster like I’d do with my nephews but I don’t want to traumatize these kids.

I am the first American many of them have ever met, and certainly the first black person. It only takes one brave kid to give me a high five to put the rest of them at ease, or If they see me interacting with their teacher they realize I’m OK. After that, they want to hold my hand, touch my hair, ask a million questions, gesture for me to pick them up, haha. Just fascinated kids! The best part about Japan is that most people have this childlike curiosity about foreigners. Well, some foreigners. I can only speak on behalf of black people. I know some Asians from different countries have very different experiences.. I think Japanese people may have some expectations of me because of my nationality but not because of myrace. They ask me about cheeseburgers & baseball. “American” stuff. I know in bigger cities like Tokyo and Yokohama it is different because there are more black people there from around the world. Because of their various interactions with black people living there, they may have developed certain stereotypes. Last weekend I was in Tokyo this group of Japanese guys came up to me asking if I had any weed. They didn’t go up to the group of Japanese people who were close by which makes me wonder what stereotypes exist in metropolitan areas. Something like this would never happen in a small town in Japan, I am certain. My first reaction was obviously, “What the hell? Because I’m black?” I had to check myself though because I was sitting on a curb outside of a club in a section of Tokyo known for it’s nightlife. I don’t know what goes on there. Maybe the Jamaicans are giving us a bad rep :P haha, jk. RASTA MAAAAHHNN.

Shibuya, Tokyo.

Once while in the gym I noticed a group of guys enter. There are only a handful of us in my village who workout regularly so any newcomers stick out. I’m a local, ayyyyeeeee. At this point, I just expect everyone to gawk at me. The only people who pay me no mind are older Japanese people oddly enough. They mind their own business, clearly, haha. The newcomers stared as I expected. They were not dressed to work out so I assumed that one of them maybe saw me and told his friends to come along and take a look at the gaijin (foreigner). They watched me warm down and stretch for 15 minutes. I finished my workout and I left. One of them left right after me so I slowed down giving him the chance to address me if he had the courage. It took him until we reached the bottom of the stairs to finally try and flag me down. He said something in Japanese I didn’t understand. He tried using gestures to ask me for a photo. I already knew what he wanted before he asked, haha. His friends soon came downstairs. Apparently they were trailing close behind.

I have decided that I don’t mind if people want to take a photo as long as they want to be in the photo with me. If they just want a photo of me I’m not having it...I’m not a monkey in a zoo. This has only happened a couple of times, like below in the next picture. People usually want to take a photo with me and they always tell me how cool I am, haha. I am not bragging or making this up, just trying to describe my experience as accurately as possible. “You are very cool!” “You are nice guy!” I’ve heard these two phrases so many times. I take meeting new people very seriously because I am often the first African-American they are meeting. I mean I’m still myself - a clown - but I’m always conscious that I am probably the first black person they’re meeting ever. I don’t want to damage what could be a newfound interest in another culture. After we took the picture, they were grinning like kids in a candy shop. They were pointing at my muscles and wanting to shake my hand. “Dekaaaaa!” (big, or big as hell depending on how they say it) haha. I hear this and “Ooookii” (also meaning big) very often. They were so happy I couldn’t help but smile.

this woman thought she was slick. I caught her recording us so I started taking pictures of her. She got all awkward afterwards, haha.

In Japan, people acknowledge my humanity before considering the color of my skin. This is most apparent at the grocery store in my town (our social hub). There are a lot of migrant workers here from all over Asia working on the farms. They stare in awe every time they see me and I’ve been here for a few months now. The Japanese people here hardly pay me any mind unless we are interacting with each other. (Reminder, take into consideration the different factors that might be in play. This is specifically in regards to my village and the people here). It is so refreshing and it absolutely astounds me that most people have lived their entire lives being acknowledged this way: as a human first; as an equal. I am constantly reminded of the “uniqueness” of the African-American experience. I feel like I’m being restored which seems strange to say, but I would have to devote an entire different blog post to elaborate on this.

I would venture to say that Japanese people are not racist towards African-Americans, they are simply unaware of who we are. I have been reading a lot of articles from other African-Americans in Japan to better understand my experience. Most of us are saying the same thing more or less from what I’ve read. We don’t feel discriminated against by Japanese people & almost any interaction which could be perceived as hostile or negative could be explained by their ignorance of who we are. I’ve noticed that it is only in the bigger cities where they have had more interaction with foreigners that people may be stereotyped. Japan is no exception when it comes to American media consumption but it consumes far less than the rest of the world. Japan is it’s own country. However, the aspects of American culture that Japan consumes is shaped by black culture in the United States which is why I think it is important that Japanese people learn a thing or two about black culture. Music, dance, and fashion predominately are all areas heavily influenced by black culture. We just had our first school festival at Kawakami Jr. High and the kids were dressed in hoodies, baggie pants, nikes, and doing the nae-nae. A lot of Japanese people don’t see the need in learning about different cultures since they have everything they need in Japan and often don’t plan to leave, but Japanese culture is still influenced by outside entities and knowing more about the world around them can only help.

This is only my opinion based on the few months that I have been in Japan. My favorite part about being here oddly enough is that most people don’t know anything about black Americans. It is a lot better than being stereotyped, believe me. This statement is based off of the questions they ask and don’t ask & the comments they make and don’t make. Very few people have asked me if I play basketball. Instead, I’ve been asked what sports I like. No one has asked me if I like rap or hip-hop. Instead, I’ve been asked what music I like. No one has ever followed me in a store, questioned me when I lost a train ticket or receipt, or talked down to me (from my knowledge). They actually have really high expectations for me. I have grown so much in the few months I’ve been here and I am extremely appreciative of the people in my town who have supported me during this time. They’ve went above and beyond to make sure I’m comfortable here. I lowkey feel like the stars have aligned for me on this leg of my journey. I have never felt this comfortable, creative, and inspired by the world around me. With that being said, this has also been the most difficult cultural transition I have ever experienced. So many miscommunications, bouts of loneliness, and difficulties with language acquisition. These last few months have had many extremes but because of my past experiences I am confident that it will only get better. Patience is a virtue.

Over and out,

Raymookie Banzo

Helen is a real one. She took me to get pancakes, to a wine festival, and then to Tokyo. Byyyyeeeeeeee

The vice-principal at my Jr. High. He is my dad in Kawakami. No but forreal he’s the realest. He helps me with so much stuff although he’s the busiest person at our school. I really look up to this guy. Thank you for everything Kitazawa-sensei! And the two awkard munchkins on the side. The awkward Jr. High phase is x2 in Japan, lol.

Yamanashi Prefecture.

Go karts in Tokyo! Next time it’s going down.

BLACK PEOPLE MAKING RIBS IN JAPAN! Yall...I was so happy.

Helen thought she was a photographer, lol. This was fresh thooo.

#blog #blogger #japan #nagano #kawakami #blackinjapan #black in japan #nihon #nomad #expat #travel #blacktravel #blacktravelfeed #usa

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