#can you imagine how he possibly could have done that without an intermission?

[purplethespian]

Sorry, not letting this stay in the tags:

ID: tags that read THE INTERMISSION ISNT FOR U ITS FOR THE CAST AND CREW (via @spacelazarwolf) /end ID

Acting is emotional, mental, and physical labor. Actors need to remember and perform their lines, remember and perform blocking (where and when an actor moves onstage), remember and safely perform stage combat, remember and perform choreography (dancing) if it’s a musical, and remember and perform songs if it’s a musical, while staying in character the whole time, all in front of a live audience with no redos if you mess up. Acting is HARD. Performing is HARD. It is TIRING, and that 10-20 minute break is what gives actors the energy and ability to finish the show.

Being a member of the crew is physical and mental labor. Depending on the show, there might be hundreds of cues (for changes of scenery, lighting changes, costume changes, etc.) that must be executed immediately and flawlessly, as soon as the stage manager calls for them. There is manual labor in the changing of set pieces and changes of costume, some of which must happen in as short a time as 30 seconds before the character has to go back onstage. A member of the run crew may need to bring props onto the stage at just the right moment, or fly in or out a large set piece (something I’ve done myself - pulling a rope at just the right speed so that the set piece goes out quickly but not too fast in a way that becomes dangerous, and making sure to stop the momentum of the rope so that the piece doesn’t fly up into the rafters). Someone has to keep sound levels balanced so that singers can be heard over the orchestra in a musical, and that a sound effect is the right volume with the right timing so it is believable. All of this is STRESSFUL and it is HARD and it can even be DANGEROUS if not done correctly. You know who doesn’t do things correctly? People who haven’t gotten enough rest.

The intermission is for the cast and crew. It is not for you. And if a break of between 10 and 20 minutes is enough to make it impossible for you to reenter the world of the show? Either get better at suspending your disbelief, or find a different medium of entertainment.

Unpopular theatre opinion: intermissions are bad and I wish we could just have a 2.5 hour performance uninterrupted, like people manage perfectly well at movie theaters. It always just kills my emotional immersion. Set changes and costume changes valid, but the art form could adapt in other ways. Or making the intermission experience somehow also part of the performance? Just something more interesting and intentional than dumping people out into the lobby to buy m&ms.

[kkulmoon]

I KNEAD YOU | jhs ✦ m

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You have had your mind filled with indecent thoughts of your spin class trainer, Hoseok, ever since you started taking his classes. However discreet you thought your antics had been, Hoseok had somehow found out and was more than willing to fulfil your fantasies.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Hoseok x Reader(f) | 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, pwp? | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ | 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.3k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cunnilingus, fingering?, slight praising, ass play, he has his hand around her neck, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys~), slight edging, groping, biting, spanking, bathroom sex.

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐲: my muse and soulmate @inkedxclouds​ as well as the amazing @meowxyoong​ (thank u loves <3333)

𝐚/𝐧: nothing to say other than I seem to like butts more than I thought,,,,, also victoria monét’s “ass like that” was the very inspo for this au, cause that song is a bop and for some reason it gave me hobi vibes + “juice” by lizzo (though I doubt the fic gives off that type of vibe but oh well) enjoy 🥺

Three months down the line and you’d think you would have developed somewhat of a sweat resistance by habitually working out. No, not at all. Still as sweaty as ever, but maybe now it was less about hard work, and more about hard want. You relax onto the closed toilet seat sighing deeply at your unfortunate situation. The changing room wasn’t safe and neither was the shared portion of the washroom.

At every and any small intermission you were offered during the heated class, you dashed towards the toilets letting your sweaty fingers hectically slip against the cold metal of the tap handles. The cold water slipping past your fingers as you tapped its remains on your skin, hoping to cool down or at least seem cool enough. But there’s only so much a little bit of cold water could do for your overheated body. As aware as you were about this, you made it a habit, involuntary of course, to let some of that desire out in the confinements of one of the bathroom stalls.

Today is no exception. You rush to the toilet, rugged breaths filling the air as you snap the flimsy lock shut, bending over to roll off your snug cycling shorts. You think back to Hoseok’s instructions : “You should always keep an eye on your breathing while doing vigorous exercise, you want to avoid back pain and strain on your blood vessels.” Back in class you almost let your thoughts tumble through your heaving mouth. “I don’t think exercise is the one doing that”.

As obedient as you are, you let deep puffs reverberate through your chest before diving in. Your hands, tired from clenching hard against the handle of the cycle to stay on it, tremble their way down your folds swinging with the same dynamic present in Hoseok’s glistening legs while he pedals. Your eyes flutter, blinding you from your surroundings, mind tumbling through all the imprinted images of your instructor you have stored in your mind.

That’s all you need. For now.

While you suck at cycling and picking up speed in that circumstance, the image of Hoseok’s huffing mouth, stable legs, and bouncing brown locks, drenched with his hard work, sticking to him the way you wanted him to stick to you, was more than enough for the tentative deep plunge of your fingers to rival the set speed record for your spin class.

Remember: deep breaths Y/N. You slow down, finger languidly straining against your walls. You hit a particular spot, staggering on the one leg touching the ground as your other hand anchors your edged form onto the whimsy bathroom stall walls.

The slow pace allows you to revel in the imagery of Hoseok’s long fingers pointed high in the air to countdown to your thirty second long spinning sprint, imagining those long digits plunged into the same heat your fingers are scissoring. He would know exactly what to do, ordering consecutive gushes of arousal out of you, the same way his fingers point towards your direction when he sees your energy falter.

With Hoseok, nothing but one hundred percent was acceptable. While you couldn’t always keep the promise of giving him just that in all of his classes, if he were to ask you, whether it be after class or somewhere in the lobby of the gym building, you would say yes to showing him where you excelled without fail.

Heart beating a firing rhythm you would snatch his trained fingers to some designated corner of the building, ready to get on your knees and stay there to take it all, the one posture you knew you could manage to keep without fail. Anything for Hoseok really.

Dripping fingers, drying cycling shorts clinging to your heated flesh, you croak out a moan, doing your best to quiet it down in the sleeve of your gym top. “Shit—” your hips buck into your erratic palm as you knead the sensitive flesh of your bud, hissing through clenched teeth.

“What the fuck are you doing to me, Hoseok,” the whispered whine travels to the small cracks of the bathroom stall, the sloppy sounds of your continued assault on your wetness bounce against the walls to fall upon the ears of the figure entering the toilet room.

“Hmmmm, fuck Hoseo—”

Your anticipated wave of pleasure catches your breath, stuttering breaths colouring the air with its warm essence. “Ahhhh,” you sigh into the sensation rippling through your bones, fisted hand sprawling itself across the cool wood of the bathroom stall door. A particular touch of your knuckles against your clit has your nails scratch against the material.

In the heat of the moment, eyelids heavy and ears focused on recalling the authority of Hoseok’s voice, you fail to register the footsteps that sound in the room. Footsteps that stall themselves during your explosive demonstration of your instructor’s effect on your body only to leave the toilet room after you’ve calmed down and said in a condescending yet satisfied tone, “How pathetic, masturbating to your instructor in the bathroom like some teenager. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Puffing out what’s left of your pent up air, you drag your fingers from your settling walls, staring longingly at the wetness and wishing you could be looking at another pair of fingers glazed with your cum.

Hand hanging lazily by your side you do your best to lift your shorts back up to a correct position using your only available hand. You fiddle with the lock, slowly opening the door. You peek to see if there’s anyone there to whom you might reveal your latest conquest  and only probe your head out of the stall when the coast feels clear.

As weak as legs might feel, you do your best to hurry up with the cleaning, washing the product of your forbidden fantasy down the drain just like the possibility of ever actually having the honour to let yourself be used by him in any way he sees fit.

Commanding words and strokes telling you exactly what he wants you to do for him, to give to him and you doing your absolute best to abide with clenched fists and a gagging mouth. You feel yourself fall down the rabbit hole, again, but you bring yourself back with a good shake of your head. You do not have another ten minutes to calm yourself down by attempting to fulfill your own lust.

You take one last look at the mirror to check that you do not look abnormally flustered before you leave to head back into the spinning room, face sweet and innocent, unlike the thoughts trying to invade your mind the moment your eyes focus on their inevitable target.

The hypnotising movement of his lips. Inviting and pink and shimmering from the quick swipe of his pointed lip against the surface. You sigh, in desperation, wishing for the presence of that muscle somewhere else. How pathetic of you, you think, almost releasing a single sobbing sound out of frustration. If only he knew.

You heave yourself into the cycle, fitting your tensed feet into the small caged armor of the pedal, unaware that Hoseok indeed knew and was very much ready to act on it.

His sudden constant and deliberate churning of your increasingly hot figure has you agitated, gaze meeting the floor. It is unusual for Hoseok to get off of his spin bike and personally assist you with your posture. Rather, he settled for quick commanding reminders that were shouted as enthusiastically as possible despite the sternness of his sweating face.

Yet for some reason, unbeknownst to you, he stops spinning and drags his taut slim legs all the way to where you like to stay at the back of the class, to personally adjust your swaying pelvis. “Engage your core. Squeeze your glutes.” He says, the order somehow managing to sound even louder than the blasting music. This is the first time he has touched you. You immediately stop spinning, hips swaying even more than before, chasing the inviting and rough heat of his short finger glove covered hands.

Your heart should have calmed down by the time he got back on his bike, but it doesn’t. You fail to admit to yourself that the coincidental eye contact you had with Hoseok in his classes, was more than enough to throw off your already fumbling posture.

If his wandering eyes are enough for you to follow their movement, accentuating each part that they laid on, his hands on your straining body is all you need to alleviate the ache of your muscles. You turn into a puddle, something that manifests itself right between your legs even before your body comes in contact with his.

“Okay guys, we have another half hour before we are done, so stay with me and there will be a sweet treat at the end,” Hoseok shouts out to the class, bursting your little thought bubble. Your eyes close as you nod, encouraging yourself to pull through, not for the sweet treat but for you. It’s the least you can do given how much you pay for these classes. But what a shame that your eyes are closed, unable to register the hungry and curious gaze Hoseok throws your way.

Twenty minutes have gone by, or maybe just ten? You feel so hot and disoriented from all the effort you’re putting in. Yawning, and trying your best to rid yourself of the final remains of sleep, you had theorised in your car that your goal for this class was to beat your old record, the one you had back when you came to class for the right reasons. Before the thought of riding Hoseok overtook your ambition to get fitter.

Calves burning, every muscle pushing itself to the verge of exhaustion, you think back to your breathing. Your mouth opens and closes as if you are giving birth, trying its best to collect all of the sweat ridden air needed to keep you going.

“Five minutes left. Keep going, you’re almost there!”

Your hanging head, that was focused on counting the sweat droplets falling from your face onto the shiny floor, shoots up to look at your instructor. It must be because of his job as a trainer and a coach that Hoseok flashes you his dashing smile the minute your eyes, gleaming with hope at the prospect of the class soon coming to an end, meets his own soft gaze.

Not wanting to seem rude or like a total nutjob, you tame your panting mouth into a simple smile, no teeth so as to not come across as too excited about something as infantile as eye contact. He winks in response and you swear you almost twist your ankle leaning forward to check if your eyes aren’t deceiving you.

Hoseok’s good at his job. He manages to keep your mind away from the propagating ache in your body as your legs chase time, looking to leave the room with your own small victory. He keeps you rooted and gives you the last bit of energy you need to make it. The timer beeps, startling you. You shake in your seat, breaking your contact with his warm brown eyes. If this is the power of his eyes, what the heck does his body have in store?

As much as you would want to let your mind wander to give you a probable hypothesis to the complicated case that is Hoseok, you’re too far gone to think that deep. Drained and sweaty, your arms dangle on your sides as you let your head lifelessly fall onto the bar of the spin bike. Too weak to push yourself back up but still wanting to know how far you cycled, you roll your drenched head onto the speed counter and stare down at it. At the sight of the double digit number, larger than the previous feat you had achieved, you sigh, a light laugh slipping past your dry lips. Finally some good news. As a way of congratulating yourself, you pat your thighs with the little force you have spared.

The surrounding claps invade your wandering ears, as people shout out, patting themselves in the back and congratulating others for pulling through. Nobody congratulates you but it’s nothing you haven’t had to handle before. Content with your progress, you step off the cycle.

You gather your items, hurrying as you feel the effects of gorging on too much liquid during class. With a drenched towel hanging of your forearm and an empty water bottle in your other hand you speed to the unisex toilet.  

As you set your belongings on the sink countertop, someone enters. You don’t bother to spare them a glance, something you regret the minute Hoseok’s familiar tight fitting cycling top is reflected on the wide mirror. Your head instinctively looks his way to admire the soft slope of his nose and the harsh lines of his profile. He knows you’re looking to which he smirks softly. Your body shifts more to your right, afraid of what other things, sinful things,  you might feel compelled to do if you stay so close to him.

You aggressively pump some soap into your palm, anything to remove the silence etched in the surrounding air. Hoseok does the same, except he does it graciously like everything else he’s ever done.

“Y/N, right?” He inquires, letting a steady stream of water wet his hands as he lathers them.

Your mind tells you he’s simply asking for formality’s sake. Did he plan to keep a conversation with you in the bathroom? How much could you possibly fit into the time it takes to wash your hands? Unless he plans on drawing it out and drying out his skin? Many more questions run through my mind as you bite your lips, eyes staring at the floor until they inevitably wander up his legs.

This is your verbal first interaction with him that doesn’t seem to hint at any subject related to your given roles in the establishment, a trainer and his trainee. No, he’s asking as Hoseok, curious to know about a certain regular Y/N who spends her free time thinking indecent thoughts about his body.

Realising that you’re taking too long to answer to your own name, you blurt out, “YES!” before clearing your throat in hopes to compose yourself. Swallowing thickly, you have another go at it, “I mean, yes, that’s my name. Y/N is me.”

While your ears warm up at your embarrassing behaviour, Hoseok’s soft chuckle manages to overpower the loud hand dryer. Usually, once someone’s done cleaning their hands they leave the bathroom and that’s exactly what you see Hoseok do. You watch him walk up to the toilet room door only to turn back around to face the mirror, doing your best not to let the dejected feeling in you overtake your features.

You breathe in, trying your best to catch your sanity. He was just being nice and trying to  break the tension, one you seem to believe could only be perceived from your side. With eyes closed, you let the cool rush of the water provide some sort of relaxation and solution to your heated body. Your dripping hands reach towards the hand dryer on your side only to reach back when you think about the hot air, you don't need to get fired up again, so you decide to pat yourself dry with paper towels.

Ready to leave, you look up into the mirror to take one last inspection at your face.

Oh.

Hoseok’s eyes catch your own. He’s leaning against the toilet’s room door frame, head slightly hanging to his side and tongue dancing calmly in the small intrusion between his lips. You thought he left?

You want to look away, but you can’t. Not only because of the demanding energy coating his eyes, but also because of the entrancing way he runs a hand past his hair, heel kicking against the door as he pushes himself off of it.

He darts towards you. Or at least that’s what it feels like to you. An overwhelming wave of desire coats your senses forcing your legs to stagger backwards as your butt comes in contact with the hard and cold edge of the sink counter.

Those hands, those fingers, the ones you’ve fantasied about having buried inside of you or stuffed in your mouth, find their way on each side of you anchoring themselves on the hard surface as Hoseok corners.

He’s close. Close enough to hear your shallow breathing, to notice your confused yet intrigued eyes and to smell the fertilised desperation in your body. Head somewhat leaned down so as to reach your gaze, he lets his eyes take their own free tour around your face, mouth slightly parted.

“I don’t think it’s pathetic at all,” he breathes out, sloping down to bathe your hot ears in his warm breath, “it’s cute, actually.” The sweet tone is almost enough to deceive you of his intentions but the prominent scraping of his teeth against your earlobe makes it clear.

Your chest curls into itself at the action, slipping down, out of reach from his inviting mouth. You want to think it’s a coincidence that Hoseok references your words from earlier but to simply think isn’t enough, you need to confirm it. “Uhmm… I don’t kn–ow what you’re referring to.” It comes out more jagged than you intended to as he steps closer, so as to almost graze your heaving chest.

A pout on his lips, his gaze zig zags across your features, “See, cute.”

You feel like you’re melting. Your face finds refuge in the minor protection of your shoulder as you squeeze your eyes shut. This is all you had thought about. To have Hoseok look at you as if he already knew what is obscured from his sigh, for now, a sight he couldn’t wait to explore. To let his eyes, hands and mouth colour his imagination into reality.

“I mean that it would be nice if I could show you what I can actually do to you.” If you were properly breathing before you sure you aren’t anymore. His voice is covered with sweetness and curiosity. It acts as both a gentle threat and a request. He could and would show you.

The rub of your knee against his thinly clothed thigh says yes before you manage to catch enough air to utter an eager “please”, eyes opening to stare at his chest. “Go ahead,” at the sight of your yearning eyes he encourages you. The thin elastic material did little to protect your sanity from the hardness of his body.

Had your eyes been closed, you could have been fooled into believing that you were touching his naked chest. You pinch the material, tugging it off his skin only to let it slap back down. Something that brings a soft smile to Hoseok’s shifting lips. Hoping that he understands your wordless request, you repeat the action a couple more times.

He dodges your eyes more than once, letting his playful side show, before he leans into you. Your lips collide, strong enough to have your head inclined against the mirror, your body moving upwards at every hungry push of his determined body. You latch onto him, hands lacing themselves around his straining biceps as you match the feverish dance of his tongue.

If your moaning wasn’t already evidence enough of your state, Hoseok’s willingness to offer more encourages him to run a slow swipe of his delicate hands up your thigh and dangerously close to where you’ve imagined him placing every class that you’ve attended. The touch is prominent enough to have you squirming, letting whiny moans spill into his smirking lips as your legs bring him closer.

But Hoseok’s gentle yet clear tapping of your thighs tells you he has something else in mind. “Stand back up.” The order is clear yet in your current hazy state, you slide off the counter anticipating your weak landing, something Hoseok takes care of by pushing you flush against him.

Following through, he presses his long fingers in the soft flesh of your ass, spreading your cycling shorts covered cheeks all while pushing you closer to his straining cock. Spread out, head shying away from looking at his face, he leans in with a soft whisper, “Now tell me, kitty, how did you get an ass like this?”

Timid hands roam across his hard frame as your intended whisper becomes a rushing gasp, pulled out from you by Hoseok’s prominent kneading of your ass, “You.”

“What did you say, sweetheart?”

Hesitant, and quite frankly too hot to think straight, you let it all spill out.

“It’s because of you. You gave me an ass like this.”

“Huh, you think so?” His stretched palm travels up and down your clothed cheeks. You don’t respond letting the steady stream of strained moans be an answer in itself. “So you’re saying, my classes gave you this juicy ass,” He hisses out, firmly squeezing the jiggly flesh.

You nod your head against his shoulder, humming in agreement, the cadence at which the soft moans escape intensifying. Moans that you attempt disguise by biting into his cycling jersey.

“Don’t you think I should get to enjoy what I created?” The implications of his question makes your breath hitch.

What is he thinking of doing. Anal? Eating your ass? Spanking? Your mind is in haywire but you know what you think.

“You can do anything you want.”

“Anything?”

You nod once again, hardened buds tickling his covered chest. All Hoseok does is smirk at your eagerness.

“Not today, kitty,” he pushes lightly against your breasts, making your shiver at the friction, turning you around with a swift hand as he shakes his head, “I like it from the back.”

You’re now facing the mirror, able to notice the distraught state of your body as your desperation creeps further into your limbs. Hoseok finds himself caging you in again, but while you could have hid your warming face in his chest before, now you’re completely exposed.It’s something that brings a playful expression to his features.

As if he wasn’t already close enough to you, Hoseok drives his eager hips into the heated plumpness of your butt and your fingers tense further around the edge of the countertop. Every hitching breath of yours is complemented with his groans.

“What a beautiful ass I’ve made,” he says, pride in his voice as he crouches down behind you to give each cheek its own shameless squeeze. “Don’t you agree?”

“Hmm,” you hum breathlessly before a pointed strike to your cheek makes it clear that that’s not how he wants you to respond. Nodding, head straining backwards to catch Hoseok’s dark gaze, your knees buckle driving your ass closer to his face while you whine out a stuttering yes.

Hoseok’s your trainer. He knows how breathing works during physical activities and makes it known that, whether or not you’re in class, he rules still apply. It’s soft, yet commanding whispers to not forget to breathe or he will stop, tingling confessions that let his appetite for your body infest your nerves as you delve deeper into despair. You want his cock inside of you and, unlike your willingness to wait, his patience is much greater.  

The continuous sway of hips quickens his breaths, and they land on your shoulder where they leave shivers that travel down your spine forcing you to shimmy your ass into his crotch even harder. “Come on, kitty, patience.” He breathes out, biting your scalding shoulder.

“Nghh, but plea—,” the hard slap that lands on your misbehaving cheeks has you stiffening, hands slipping against the glass. At this point you’re sure you’re not going to sit down on your train ride back home. Hoseok seems to want to leave you sore and marked.

“I said patience. I will give you what you need when I want to.” You nod lazily, not that your mind registers the sentence, but the alarming tone has you on your best behaviour.

Your compliant action earns you a few sloppy kisses along your covered shoulders, his hands snaking upwards to catch the zipper and let it slide down as you bend, body yearning for his touch until his determined hands engulf your freed and neglected mounds.

“Hmmm, just as soft and juicy as your ass.” He moans loud and clear and you fear someone outside might hear. Yet it still makes you melt onto his hard body. “Hose—yes, like that, ahhhh.”

Hoseok, given his position, does like orders, something he lets you know by running his fingers around your perked buds and squeezing them so hard you screech and bend even deeper. Fuck. As much as it hurts it also feels so good; your watering folds are proof enough.

“I don’t like to repeat myself, Y/N. Misbehave and I’ll keep drawing this out, leaving you wet and begging for me.” His tone is calculated and laced with a certain layer of pity that has you whining as you place one hand on his forearms to turn around and meet his eyes.

You witness the slowed blinking of his eyelids and hope that he can decipher your distressed eyes that ask for more. While Hoseok cares for his trainees, he likes to push them to see how far they can go. That’s what the smirk creeping up on his lips tells you.

“All in due time, kitty. First, let me taste something that I want to make mine.” One confident hand pats your dripping pussy to further awaken your sensitive nerve endings. Your thighs instinctively snap shut capturing his hand. Hoseok catches your eyes in the mirror, shaking his head before delivering another strike to your ass.

“Ahhh, shit,” you bite your quivering lips and let your hesitant thighs part to welcome the sweet slide of Hoseok’s fingers past your clothed folds as he hums in approval at the present wetness. “Just how I like it.” The praise compels a soft smile on your end.

You can’t hide the confusion that coats your features when he suddenly extracts his hand, something that has him snickering to himself. He enjoys torturing you and you want to complain but you don’t think your ass could handle anymore pain so you suck up your remarks along with some air.

Your head dances around, left to right and back again trying to figure out what exactly he plans to do as he crouches back down to face your butt. Before you can enquire in order to save yourself from any surprise attacks, he dives his head into the expanse of your globes shaking it as you squeal trying your best not to lose your stance.

He hums deeply, breathing in your scent and you whimper once his wet tongue pokes out to slide along your pussy lips, his saliva mixing in with your oozing arousal. His arms snake around your thighs, fingers digging into the flesh to push you further against his face. “Fuck, your kitty is dripping for me.” You manage to hear the muffled sound above the blend of his groans and your stumbling moans. But for once Hoseok doesn’t abide by his own rules as his hands rush to the hem of your cycling shorts, wanting nothing more than to rip them apart, to have you bare as to allow him to witness your clenching pussy– soon to be his pussy.

Exposed and wet, ready for him since the day you laid eyes on him, you stare down at his soft brown locks, where your hands will find refuge in shortly, and try your best to examine his eager expression through hooded eyes. He has your right leg up on his shoulder and you let the rhythm of his stroking hand guide your breaths. “So fucking pretty,” his other hand travels up your other thigh, “and wet,” he bites his lips leaning into your drenched center, “and mine.”

It’s only one lick but you already feel like falling apart, hands squeaking against the mirror. “Ahhh shit,” your hips move on their own accord, meeting his hot appendage and coating it with your increasing neediness. Either Hoseok doesn’t mind or your eagerness, looking to satisfy your own urge, doesn’t register in his mind as all that’s there is the goal to have you trembling and gushing all over his hungry mouth.

For each lap at your folds, he takes a breath away. Your fingers find the courage to place themselves on his head, soft hair left to be scrunched in your clenched fist. His head moves vigorously up and down, drinking up your juices under feverish groans and needy hands that latch on the cheeks of your ass to keep you from staggering away.

His tongue drives your pants, saturating your cunt with pointed licks coupled with soft nibbles at your throbbing clit, an action that has you quivering in surprise. “So fucking sweet,” he drags out the suckling of your vulva as he hums, satisfaction clear on his face as his tongue slides across his bottom lips. You mewl, hips bucking into the empty air. He plants a soft kiss on your heat, “Just for me. How cute.”

“Hoseok, please,” your strained plea runs from your lips without much thought to meet his mocking pout. You’re so close, you just need him to keep lapping at your soaked entrance, feasting on your juices and you would come undone before you know it.

However Hoseok seems to have other plans in mind as he stands back up, the straining in his pants all the more noticeable in his tight shorts. He leans in to kiss your neck, holding your behind flush against his cock. “Unfortunately, I can’t eat you out until you fall apart. We wouldn’t want anyone to come open the door, now would we?”

Your want has made you forget your predicament. You’re in the bathroom of your gym, ready to have the trainer you’ve been daydreaming about rail your neediness away. He made sure to lock the door but someone could soon start asking questions, looking for staff to complain to. Staff who would surely hurry to unlock the door, after all client satisfaction is important. Something that Hoseok is very aware of.

You shake your head as his husk approval meets your slick ear, “Good kitty.” He bites the shell of your ear, scraping against the heating flesh, “Now spread your legs for me.” You shuffle your feet side to side following his orders, legs too heavy to lift. “You’re doing so good for me,” he says, hoping to reassure you as his hands leave your body and you watch him, in the mirror, slide his pants down to expose his erect and flushed cock.

You almost turn around on instinct, one based on your countless dreams of having him in your mouth, weighing down your tongue. But you stay put, resorting to ogling his long and pretty dick. Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind as his hand goes to stroke lazily at the throbbing length while continuing to keep his distance from you.

His eyes lock with yours and you whimper because you know exactly what you could do to that dick of his if he’d just let you. However, he’s adamant on having his way with you. Maybe another time? Maybe. You close your eyes to let the sour thought of this being a one time occasion wash away and let Hoseok’s touch bring you back to the moment at hand.

His hand digs into the flesh of your hips and your needy heat clenches around empty air at the sweet and slow slide of the fleshy and precum glazed tip of his cock. Hoseok’s likes to drink up your reactions, staring into the mirror to admire your furrowed brows, your open mouth and your squeezed eyelids as he continues to run his pulsating member up and down your slit. He slips up, his enthusiasm getting the best of him as the tip grazes your clit and you bite into your clenched fist, your moan still managing to seep through.

Hoseok’s chest leans into your back as he places one of his hands above yours. He orders your gaze to meet his, the other hand hiding between your bodies to position himself at your entrance.

“This is gonna be just like our sprints in class. Are you ready, kitty?”

You munch on your wet lip, and repeat, through your panting mess, the only the only two words that seem to be in your mind, “Hoseok plea—ahhh”

His hard cock eases into your needy walls, slowly filling you up as his other hand moves back to restrain your only free hand. Chest against back, hands weighing on yours, and forehead bent down against your shoulder, he bottoms out and you release a combined sigh. You shut eyes spring open to stare at the delightful connection between your edged bodies. You can’t comprehend the situation, nor do you try to. This is really happening, huh?

It feels too good. Too good to be true and too good for your practically spasming pussy. Hoseok’s calm approach is short-lived, his second thrust as frantic as your breaths. The force at which he moves inside your slick walls, force strong enough to have the edge of the sink countertop dig against your stomach.

Your hand reaches back to hold onto his shoulder, trying your best to stay stable as each continuous attack of his hips sounds against your tender ass. Hoseok drags his dick out, making you moan and pant so much you’re clouding the mirror. He eagerly snaps back against your straining tightness, bottoming out as he puffs out laboured breaths and you gasp into your trembling shoulder. “Yes, yes, right there,” you sigh in between ragged breaths

He delivers another pointed thrust, pumping himself deeper into your warmth, “Here?” He breathes out and you nod hastily.

You can feel the short yet intense slap of his balls against your ass, the thrill of it all making you bend to spread your legs even further apart. Your face only centimeters away from the cold, metal tap, you shriek feeling the weight of Hoseok’s imprints on the small of your back as he pounds your sopping pussy. “Shit, all of this for me?” He pants, delivering his beloved strikes on the ass he’s made.

With your current limited vocabulary all you can do is nod, head bracing itself in the crook of your arm. Chasing your own pleasure, all while melting on the wonder that’s Hoseok’s cock, you move your hips to meet the now frantic pummelling of his straining dick.

One of his hands migrates to surround the soft and tender flesh of your neck as he pulls you up to reveal your fucked out gaze. “So fucking pretty.” He suckles the skin of your neck, biting into it to suppress his own moans. You wrap your hand around his forearm, chanting your go-to high-pitched request once again, this time managing to add one more word, “Hoseok, please, harder.”

Your heart is about to leap out of your chest at sight of the soft gaze he throws under heavy eyelids. “Anything for you, kitty.” And he gives you just that. He pumps in and out, hard, hand still around your neck, more so as a sweet gesture to help your head stay put as he admires his work. His other arm pushing you flush against his body, mushing your ass cheeks against his crotch. A feeling he welcomes with a low hiss.

Hoseok’s dick pulsates against your walls, as they suck him deeper, his length allowing him to graze spots in you nobody has touched before. The quick and pointed hammering makes your breath stutter. You’re so close, you think, but fail to communicate, mouth unable to form any coherent sounds apart from heavy moans and whines.

You spare a glance in Hoseok’s direction, to see his head nested in the crook of your neck, eyes shut and his cheeks puff out for every passionate thrust he delivers. Warmth, not the kind that comes from your current vigorous activity, but the one that’s born out of hope for more, overtakes you only this time you have no wish to dispel it.

Your free hand meets your sensitive bud, rubbing circles as his cock continues to make a mess of you. He must have felt the soft graze of your fingertips against his hot girth as his hands move to meet yours. He slides his fingers past your slick coating fingers that are soon placed back on your clit. Digits dancing around each other, your chest stutters into the bliss, back morphing into the bend of his chest. “Oh,Hos– ahhh, I’m clo–se.”

Hoseok finds the sounds that leave you endearing, a smile stretching along his lips. “Go on kitty, let my pussy cum all over me.” You shut your eyes, lips pressed against each other, glutes clenched to Hoseok’s striking approval, letting your pent up and often castoff desire for a certain man with a blinding smile, and inspiring ethic rush over your limbs, choked moans leaving your once sealed lips.

He thrusts on every breath intake, adamant on literally taking your breath away as his own unraveling follows shortly. Even in this state of frenzy, he manages, ever the professional and hard worker, to land his last thrusts just where he wants them. Deep within you, before he snatches his hypnotising member away from your ever yearning heat to decorate your back with a fat load, as he grunts out, “Ugh, hmph–mine.”

Strikes of white cum hit you as you sigh, trying your best to regulate your breathing all while hitting your face to convince yourself of the reality of the situation. You just fucked your trainer. The one you’ve been fantasising about for the past three months. You try to find some sort of guilt, looking to appease your mind and assure yourself that nothing bad will come out of this.

You’ll still be able to attend your lessons each week, sitting down at your same spot, staring ahead at him indifferently as he manages to not even break a sweat during his excruciating classes. You tell yourself that you’re sure everything will go back to normal once the two of you step outside the sex stenched toilet room. Everything will be just fine. You almost believe it, until you’re brought back to the present moment, as he swipes a cool water drenched paper towel against your ruined slit. Yeah, this is bad.

Mixing fantasies, longing stares and care can only lead to one possible thing. A bus you doubt he would jump on if it were to show up at his door steps. You scramble to retrieve the towel and proceed to clean yourself. Hoseok jumps at your less than gentle action, but decides not to give it much thought, unlike you.

“Thanks,” you attempt to lessen your rude behaviour. He gives you a lopsided smile, winking away your weakly established reassurance that you’ll manage not to think about this encounter from a point of view that’s filled with craving feelings and expectations.

“That was nice.”

You fail to suppress the laughter that’s screaming to be released, to see him flustered has you smiling, nodding reassuringly at his statement.

“Very nice, indeed,” you respond, throwing away the towel as you join Hoseok in putting your cycling shorts back on and closing the zipper of your cycling jersey.

Your eyes travel across the room to make sure that nothing is terribly out of place or different before your hands stroke down your front while you stare at the now silent man. You wait, expecting him to say something, wanting him to. When he doesn’t seem to have it in his plans to speak again, you turn around to walk towards the key he left in the lockset of the door.

A loud cough sounds behind you and you snap around, eyes eagerly staring at him to notice the full blown smile on his glowing face, making your heart skip.

His fingers gestures towards his back and once he notices your confused expression, he articulates his concern with a small laugh and scratch to his neck, “Uhm, you kinda forgot the back, my…. yeah, is still there”

“Oh,” you turn around to look at your back through the mirror. The sight alone of his cum has your mouth watering and legs clenching, something that doesn’t go unnoticed to Hoseok’s focused eyes. Just the reassurance he needed to feel like you weren’t completely regretting what just happened. “Right.” You sidestep him to reach for some more paper towels, hands trying their best to clean it up only to end up smearing it even more.

Hoseok’s hand reaches out. “May I?” Sighing you nod, discarding the ruined towels in the bin.

On second thought, you should have said no and struggled through the clean up on your own. The soft press of his digits against your back ignites your skin and pulls you back to the not so distant events in your mind. Your sharp breath intakes at each touch from his body further aids Hoseok in building back his confidence.

You definitely liked him, or at least your body did. He thinks and he would definitely not mind a repeat, preferably somewhere where he did not need to worry about time or intruders and where he could knead your ass to his heart’s content.

Once done, you step away, this time thoroughly cleaned and ready to leave. You turn back to follow your previous path, hand clenched around the key refusing to unlock the door as you await another interjection from his part. To unlock the door means this is finally over and as much as you might not believe this to be your best decision, you still want to bask in the awkward sweetness of the aftermath, just for a few more seconds. But Hoseok stays silent this time.

Your hand weights down on the handle, pushing it towards you. Sighing, you are brought back to reality as you stare at the bypassers outside of the toilet room. Your hand releases the handle, walking out and heading towards the changing rooms.

Your steps are slow, ready to halt upon his request. Yet, all your ears can hear is the shuffling of hurried feet and the sound of other classes taking place. Soon enough, you’re walking slow out of dejection rather than apprehension.

“Hey! Y/N!” Your skin shivers at the timbre of the familiar voice and you walk faster to stop a bit further away. You don’t want him to think that you were waiting for him.

Your body whips around, using the little resolve you have left to mask your delight at the sight of him.

“I’ll see you next week,” it comes out as a blend between a question and an affirmation and you can see in his eyes that he needs you to clarify the nature of his statement for him. To let him know there could in fact be more than today.

“I’ll see you next week, Hoseok.” You smile sheepishly as you turn around to scurry towards your intended destination, squealing into the palms of your hands. Hands that had touched him and had been caressed by him. Ultimately, hands that couldn’t wait to knead him the way he kneaded you.

Posted: July 16 2020

a/n: feel free to share any feedback, it’s always deeply appreciated 🥺

[iamnightduchess]

Hi Queen ❤

I love your headcanons so much and I don’t know if you’ve ever done one of these, but I’d really like to imagine what it would be like if Mikasa and Reiner fell in love after the end of the manga, what this discovery would be like and how they would deal with this!

(Forgive me for my lousy english hahaha)

Hello dear, thank you for the Ask! 💖 It really helps me to envision a more ideal post-ending universe because the potential ending right now does not look promising that both of them will somehow survive (together) because I am foreseeing one of them voluntarily dies to save another person. I hope i'm wrong! 😢 I've only done a tiny snippet of ReiKasa in this Post-Rumbling HC AU. But, here's what I envision how it could possibly be IF they survive & they happen:

Reiner x Mikasa (ReiKasa) Post-Rumbling AU (Gen) Headcanon #16

Before we delve into Post-Rumbling period, it's interesting to observe the tiny moments where the seeds of trust and possibly, love between these two former enemies turned allies might have possibly begun sprouting.

The Rumbling

We've seen the way Reiner had implied on the plane in ch.133, how Eren might want to be stopped by someone. Reiner was using himself as a pretext; an example. If HE was the one with the FT & somehow finding himself unable to control it, he'd want to be stopped by someone he knows is capable of doing so (someone more powerful & stronger than he is) When he said that sentence, he was gazing at Mikasa.

There are 2 implications here, i) He is indirectly admitting in front of everyone that Mikasa is his weakness, like a failsafe. The one he knows who can take him down if he's the one with this enormous power & he's losing control, ii) Because to him, ever since they were younger, Eren is her family & a sensitive subject to her. Him voicing out his opinion and indirectly hinting that Eren is beyond the path of no return will hurt Mikasa's feelings & emotional state.

During the Paths Intermission, the moment Eren basically told the alliance to go fuck themselves, that he will keep moving forward for his freedom, while the alliance members are free to fight him if that is what they want; Reiner was horrified to know that Eren basically confirmed his deduction & how much pain and devastation Mikasa would be in upon receiving the awful truth from Eren himself. Even after pleading to Eren to let her share the burden of his sins, which as direct as it could have been to "I don't want to be so far from you. I want to be with you through both light & darkness inside of you. Please come back to us." Mikasa still believed that the previous Eren that she knew is still there somewhere, which is no longer the case.

The shock-induced tears in Mikasa's eyes - seeing her in pain, hurts Reiner too. He'd knew how heartbroken she would be.

In Ch.135, when everyone was on the verge of dying as they're losing the battle with the raised forms of past titan shifters, Mikasa reached her breaking point & Reiner felt helpless, because he was at his last limit & Mikasa was planning to make herself the primary target just to buy the rest a little bit more time.

There's this woman who's fighting towards an expected death in front of him - any man would be an idiot for not seeing how foolish yet selfless and brave this last female warrior of Paradis was. She's always been a fearless woman who has their backs and protects their fronts. He has never stopped respecting this woman. This might have been the starting point for that seed to have sprouted inside Reiner.

If Annie's timely rescue never came and they truly met their end there, the only regret Reiner has was he couldn't do anything else but watch this woman's final moments without being able to do anything to support her before his own ensuing end.

When Levi, Jean and Connie all collectively & firmly agrees that killing Eren is the only thing that stands between the world's survival, Reiner was silent the whole time. He believed he has no right to say anything, but he saw the vulnerable look on her face the moment Jean reiterated their ultimatum: "We need to kill Eren."

Reiner did what he does best: he took charge. When Reiner told her, "You go help Armin." He was indirectly telling her, "You do what you can. I will shoulder your burden with Jean. Let me be the strength for you to do what needs to be done." This was Reiner's way of telling her, he will carry her burden for her and shelter her from an unbearable pain. Just like how she told Eren much earlier in Paths. Reiner's indirectly telling Mikasa that she's important to him too.

This was the moment that the seed had sprouted within her heart. She realized that Reiner's communicating to her in the way only she would understand. How much she feels for Eren, Reiner feels for her in the same way because you can't give a reason why you care for or love someone. You just do. It just happened without signs. Annie, however, was able to catch that short but impactful interchange between them.

Post-Rumbling

They barely survive the last stand against Eren's final form but they did with Ymir's divine intervention in Humanity's New Dawn.

Reiner sustains extremely heavy injuries on his physical body. Mikasa is emotionally & psychologically affected by Eren's true death.

The remaining humanity struggles to rebuild from the ashes of destruction. It was beyond devastation. The world is almost completely annihilated but hope is a powerful energy. Hope persists.

Reiner sees her grieving - like a pair of wheels suspended in motion - trapped while the rest of the world moves around her. She refuses to eat, she barely sleeps but when she does, she would toss and turn around restlessly. Annie tells him in passing that when Mikasa sleeps, her body contorts and freezes simultaneously like she's in a lot of pain.

Seeing her drifting through the days like a soulless vessel pains him a lot. No one could humanly survived what she had to go through without serious ramifications towards her emotional and psychological state. Mikasa becomes withdrawn and sullen.

Yet, he retains his distance like he always does & watch silently from the sides as Annie, Armin & Jean tried to reach out to her to no avail. Reiner himself is haunted by his failed attempt to hold the Founder's original form down that, in a way, had forced Mikasa to do what needs to be done. He feels responsible that he couldn't prevent her from having to go through those painful yet pivotal moments of securing humanity's survival. The day the alliance managed to save the world, well, the world that she built for Eren inside her heart was destroyed in return.

One day, she mysteriously disappears without trace. A panicking Armin searches on his own but Annie tells Reiner that Mikasa's missing, nowhere to be found. Reiner and Armin later found her at the crater where Eren's last resting place had been. The exact same location where she had to slay him with her own two blades.

Mikasa says that she just feels lost and empty. Like there's a huge dark void inside her body that she can't escape from. She just sits there amongst the dust and debris, staring blankly at a makeshift, unmarked grave. She confides that she's terrified of falling asleep because she sees Eren's face in her nightmares.

Armin wants to console her but Annie holds him back as she notices Reiner already making his way forward and settles himself next to her. Armin understands what Annie was trying to do.

Reiner only tells Mikasa, "You don't have to do this alone...Lean on us." He offers his hand, despite knowing she wouldn't even touch him. "When you feel that you can no longer breathe, I'll breathe for you. If you feel like you're drifting, I will hold you."

It takes her a while but she accepts his hand and he holds it tight in his. Reassuring her that he is here to stay for as long as she needs him to be.

Little either of them know that it would possibly be forever.

It is Annie who helps to bridge these two together with Armin's help.

Ever since the day they talked, Mikasa slowly finds herself regaining an ounce of strength. Reiner talks a lot to her and offers his silent company as they go for walks together so she does not feel alone.

Reiner makes sure that he'll check in with Mikasa from time to time when he's not supporting the remaining forces with rebuilding, too frequent not to be noticed by everyone close to them in the survivor's settlement. However, none of them questions him about it. It is an understood, unspoken notion that Reiner cares a lot about Mikasa, and her for him eventhough she's being subtle about it. Armin could see Mikasa's eyes lit up whenever Reiner is nearby.

Mikasa shares a living space with Annie and Pieck. When her night terrors get too much that Mikasa thrashes around, screaming in pain despite being in a deep sleep, the two former shifters know that they couldn't possibly restrain the Ackerman girl physically on their own. They called for Armin, Jean and Reiner for help. When Armin and Jean hesitate to hold her down, it is Reiner who holds her tight even when Mikasa's unconsciously trying to struggle against him. They could see Reiner's face holding back his own physical pain from fighting against the immense resistance coming from her. But he'd never released his hold until she eventually wakes up and calms down. He stayed with her until the break of dawn.

After that night, however, Reiner seems to be pulling himself away from Mikasa as he couldn't get over his guilt and his helplessnesss as he also didn't want Mikasa to think that he's trying to take advantage of her vulnerability. The problem is, when he avoids Mikasa, she reverts back to the darkness she's slowly overcoming with Reiner's help and he's becoming miserable himself.

This frustrates Armin, Annie, Jean, Levi and even Pieck because it was fairly obvious to everyone but the two people in question that both Reiner and Mikasa are self-sabotaging and self-punishing themselves from pursuing something more than friendship despite their beating hearts calling out for each other.

Mikasa feels she's betraying her memories of Eren and she's afraid of moving on lest she would forget about him. Reiner feels he has no right to offer Mikasa anything more than friendship because she deserves someone better than him.

Mother's Intuition

Reiner's mother, Karina, finds herself naturally drawn to this young woman who seems to have her son's attention, even when he's trying very hard not to be obvious about it. She catches Reiner staring (longingly, she dare say) at the female warrior of Paradis from afar.

Apart from Mr. Leonhardt's daughter, she too, helps to bring her son and Mikasa closer. Karina has witnessed this woman's bravery and have heard from both Gabi and Reiner of her selflessness when she had saved both her son and her niece's lives. Through Reiner's story, Karina sympathizes with the pain this young woman is going through.

Reiner tells her that he feels helpless that he isn't able to help Mikasa and that she hasn't been eating well. Therefore, Karina brings her homemade meal and visits the young woman, wanting to get to know her better. Mikasa doesn't want to be impolite and relents to having the sudden company.

However, the moment Karina holds her hands to offer her comfort, Mikasa breaks down. She had lost 3 mothers/maternal figures in her life: her own, Carla & Hange. For some odd reason, she feels grateful to have an opportunity to be held by a mother again, even if it wasn't her own.

Karina finds herself growing fond of this young woman and deep inside believes that Mikasa and her son are meant for each other.

It is Karina who advises Reiner to fight for his own happiness and her mother's intuition tells her that his feelings isn't as one-sided as he thinks. Karina urges her son to tell Mikasa how he really feels and after all the years of fighting wars for Marley, Reiner needs to fight one last war: the one within his own heart and to win the heart of the one woman who had conquered his.

However, the relief entourage that arrives from Hizuru, led by Kiyomi Azumabito prevents him from telling Mikasa how he truly feels. He knows that she is destined to become the new empress of Hizuru and that her future would be brighter without him being in her way.

Mikasa tells him of her decision to ascend the imperial throne and Reiner feigns happiness for her decision, reassuring her that she will make a great empress and that she would have a better future there. Mikasa takes Reiner's words as him indirectly telling her to move on with her life without him in it.

Reluctantly, Mikasa leaves for Hizuru. Karina is upset that her son is still sacrificing himself & his own feelings even after being relieved of his Titan powers and its curse.

Karina tells him, "You've lived your life for me and for our family, Reiner. Now it's time for you to live for yourself."

Reiner thinks he's lost the only chance he still has left as Mikasa is already en route to the East Sea country. It is Armin who tells him that the Azumabito's ship is still docked at the nearest harbor because Armin has suspicions that Reiner will change his mind.

When Reiner, Armin, Jean and Annie reach the harbor, the sun is almost setting and Reiner finally revives his dwindling courage to tell her how he truly feels about her and he would like to remain by her side if she'd allow it.

Kiyomi forewarns Reiner that if he is serious about her kin, then he would have to sacrifice his newly-found freedom from being a soldier and titan shifter to become prince consort to their new imperial monarch.

Reiner only says, "I am as good as dead without Mikasa and my freedom means nothing if I'm spending the rest of my life without her."

In the sunset of the New World built from ashes, the two young loves finally seize the courage to pledge their hearts to one another with a kiss; the first of the many in their life together, which is only beginning.

*Continues in Pt. II

------------

Thank you once again for the beautiful Ask! I truly enjoyed working on this ❤ Also, please don't ever feel that you need to apologize to another ESL speaker/writer for the language. We're always learning 💖 Take care! xoxo

[hopesbarnes]

Black Swan (15)

Summary: Y/N used to be a Russian spy under the code name Black Swan. But that was a lifetime ago, now she’s a part-time avenger, dance teacher, surrogate sister to Natasha Romanoff, and trainer to new Shield Agents. She’s come a long way from the days of killing targets and being tortured. But when someone from her past comes around will she be able to ignore her history anymore? Or will she end up falling in love with the only man her sister ever loved?

A/N: Just the epilogue left. Major shoutout to @starbxcks​ I really wouldn’t be posting this without you.

P.S. Does anyone want to see the solo costumes, and the videos I found of what I imagine the dances to look like?

With one week until competition season officially began, and arguably the most important competition of the season you were stressed. Every day was hectic with practices. Bucky tagged along every day as your unofficial assistant. He kept notes for you and learned everything he needed to know in order to assist backstage. Sometimes it was hard to keep track of that many girls at once, and while you could handle props yourself it was easier to have someone else do so. 

He kept track of your masterlist of what was required for each dance (shoes, costumes, hairpieces, props, etc) and who was in what dance. He also wrote down every little thing you needed to remember, and you have no clue how you did competitions before him. You managed to wrangle Natasha, who had watched your previous competitions, and Clint to assist. She agreed to help with stretches and hair/makeup while Clint would mostly be moral support and do the heavy lifting.

On Friday morning the four of you, in separate cars full of props, suitcases, and random assortments of things needed for the weekend, drove the three hours to the competition. All the girls (and boys) competing would head over after school ended in time for a nightly meeting you were holding. 

Bucky was practically bouncing the entire car ride, asking questions about how the weekend would run and the chances the girls would win. After the week of hanging around the studio, the girls started calling him ‘Mr. Bucky’, and even gave him a few “Team DAD” shirts to wear the weekend (one of them just so happened to be covered in glitter). He protested saying he wasn’t a dad, but they deemed him as such anyway. It just went to prove that children hold no judgments, even when a giant super-soldier with a metal arm is in a dance studio.

The rest of the day was a blur. You checked into the competition and dropped off props, had lunch with Bucky, Natasha, and Clint-which wasn’t as weird as you thought it would be. Clint and Bucky quickly fell into a joking rhythm-, met up with the team and handed them their goody bags and door decorations, wished them all a good night’s sleep, then ate in your room and went to bed early curled up against Bucky.

------

Bucky’s three alarms went off at 4:30 am and both of you got up and took a shower and got dressed in your shirts with the dance studio name on them, yours saying “COACH” and Bucky’s saying “TEAM DAD”. You applied some glitter eyeshadow and added a bow to your hair while Bucky put his in a half french braid. Within no time at all you had packed your bags for the day and headed to grab breakfast.

The entire day was packed, your first number started at 8 and the last was at 4 pm. Thankfully, everything was relatively spaced out and the little kids weren’t until 3 o’clock.

Natasha and Clint ended up joining you in the ballroom hallway at 7, both excited as well. They went off to help do hair and makeup while you gathered your two soloists for warm-up. You placed the hair strips in their hair and Bucky double checked that they would stay in place and they had everything they needed. 

They both warmed up fine, and went on stage and absolutely crushed it. All the girls from the studio cheered loudly for both of them and they both scurried off to get ready for their other dances. 

You met up with the two seniors for their duet at 11, and you walked them through stretches. Bucky and Clint were helping with props, so Natasha joined you backstage. The two dancers practiced their lifts and they went off without a hitch. You almost had tears watching them, and they weren’t even going full out with emotions or all the steps. 

As you waited in the wings for them to go on, Bucky found you and gave you a quick kiss before holding your hand as they went on stage. 

Their dance was beautiful. They took the steps you gave them and brought them to life. Every movement was purposeful and their faces depicted the emotions so well. You could see the story they were telling through their dance and let out a few tears. 

When they finished and came off stage you hugged them both tight, thanking them for the job they did. It was amazing, and everything you ever hoped for. 

---

There was a lunch intermission between the solo, duets, and trios before groups started in the afternoon. Clint brought food for you, Nat, and Bucky and the three of you found a table to eat at. The boys talked about how insane the dancers were and how they didn’t even think they could do what these kids did. Natasha talked about how she wanted to possibly join the studio on a part-time basis because she didn’t realize just how much she missed it until now. 

After finishing up lunch you gathered the little kids and made sure they all had their correct tights and shoes. You put their hair accessories in and sat them down to remind them to point their feet and smile wide. They ran through their routine fine and were adorable on stage. Afterward, you made sure each girl found their parents or were with Natasha before gathering the large group with Bucky and practicing the dance, making sure the girls were still stretched and energized. 

One girl scraped her knee pretty bad and you went to find a first aid kit, only for Bucky to open his backpack and pull out a kit with everything a dancer could ever possibly need. He disinfected the wound, bandaged it, and had the girl back on her feet ready to perform. You kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for being as amazing as he was. 

The girls were set backstage, and you had enough time to run out to the audience for this dance. You managed to grab two seats in the front and Bucky and you watched the girls give it their all.

Against all odds, every single dance was perfect and there were no major hiccups with any routine. It was by far your best competition, and you know for sure it’s because of the team you had with you. 

After a few more hours, the girls all gathered on stage and you sat in the audience with Bucky, Natasha, and Clint. They went through individual genre categories first, and all of your dances were given platinum (highest score) and managed to take first in their respective categories. All the dances qualified for nationals and that took a huge weight off your chest. 

But what you really wanted was for the solos to place top 3 overall, your groups to take first in their size group, and possibly for your duet to take overall first place. You crossed your fingers and silently hoped throughout the awards.

They announced your solos, and your girls placed second and fourth. The girl who got fourth looked slightly disappointed but smiles nonetheless. Your duet placed first for duo/trios and you jumped up excited. 

The two group dances scored first overall for small and large groups respectively. The announcer announced that the last award of the night would be the overall highest score for the entire competition. 

“And with a perfect 300, Gravity!” the announcer said and you almost screamed. Bucky and Clint jumped from their seats, while Natasha dove to hug you. Nothing mattered but the joy you felt in that moment. 

After every competition, the whole team books a restaurant. This one was no different, and after the end of the awards, all the families make it to a restaurant a couple of minutes away. The girls are all in various costume parts, or just sweatpants and their team jackets. The tables have bobby pins and lashes discarded, and giggles fill the air. In the middle of the room is the giant trophy (amongst the other smaller ones) and it’s the best feeling ever. 

You grab a booth with Bucky, Natasha, and Clint next to some of the other teachers and parents and make your way around to congratulate all the girls and see how they’re doing. When you get back to the booth Natasha excuses herself to the bathroom, and the minute she’s out of sight Clint squeals.

“I’m gonna do it,” he says and Bucky gives him a strange look while eating a few french fries. 

“Propose,” he says and shows the ring you had picked out with him.

“Oh, OH!” you say and light up. You’ve been waiting what feels like forever for this to happen.

“I’m gonna have her come outside with me in a little bit, and ask her,” he says grinning. He tucks the box back into his coat and you all pretend like nothing happened when Nat comes back out. 

“Hey, babe will you come with me to grab something from the car?” he says before she can scoot back into the booth.

“Uh- yeah I guess,” she says, stealing one of Bucky’s fries and grabbing Clint’s hand following him outside.

You see the two of them head outside and look away. This was their moment, and you didn’t want to take that from them.

“I didn’t get to say it earlier, but I’m so proud of you, love.” Bucky says.

“I never could have done it without you.”

“Okay, bullshit,” he says laughing. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[everybodyscupoftea]

idk you yet: come hang out

reggie peters x oc

you’re working so damn hard, you forgot what you like

November

The problem with Reggie not telling the boys he had date plans was that, though they were on a brief touring break, Luke wanted them to stay busy. Every time he sat down to text William, Luke popped up with, “Hey, you ready to work on stuff for our next album.”

Normally he loved the work ethic. It was easy to get into Luke’s excitement and to write with him. Luke was incredibly creative and loved immediate feedback from his band members while also respecting their suggestions.

But when he just wanted a break to head back to San Jose to see William, it just didn’t seem like it would happen. The best possible outcome would be that he gets so much stuff done at the beginning of the month that Reggie would have more time for their tentatively scheduled date.

Wanna facetime?

Reggie smiled at the text and looked around their shared apartment. He knew Luke and Alex were home, in their room, and he was pretty sure Bobby was out, so it seemed unlikely that they’d actually want to work on anything without him.

Sure

Walking over to his room, Reggie collapsed onto his bed, smiling brightly as he answered the call. A tired looking William filled his screen and an ache in his chest that he didn’t realize was there was soothed.

“Hey, Reg.”

“Hey, Will, what’s up?”

William hummed, “Nothing much. About to nap before our game tonight, but I missed you.”

“Aw,” Reggie teased, “I’m more important than sleep.”

“Absolutely,” William told him earnestly.

It shocked Reggie into silence a few seconds before he managed to stutter out, “Well, I just hope it doesn’t throw your game off today.”

“You’re watching right?”

Squinting at his phone, Reggie slowly answered, “Yeah. I haven’t missed one yet.”

“I know, I just wanted to make sure. Hockey isn’t exactly your first choice to watch.”

His voice sounded a little timid, and Reggie bit his lip, “I mean I won’t watch any other teams, but I love watching you play.”

“That’s good to know,” William laughed, “can’t have the boy I like being a Kings fan.”

Reggie played dumb, “The Kings?”

“Oh hush, I know you know who they are.”

“I do, I was just trying to make you feel better.”

William laughed again, head tossed back, “Well you succeeded. My ego is sufficiently inflated.”

“Good. Hopefully you carry that on the ice tonight.”

“Always do.”

His eyes were starting to flutter a bit and Reggie smiled at the almost adorable sight. William flinched and shook himself awake with a loud yawn, so Reggie told him, “I’ll let you get some sleep. Talk to you tonight?”

“Yeah, definitely. Counting down the days until you get here.”

“I can’t wait either.”

William hung up a few seconds later, and Reggie got off his bed. Maybe, he thought to himself, he should start planning a date. Sure, William knew more about San Jose, but he didn’t want William to do all the heavy lifting. Reggie was terrified he’d eventually get tired of being the only one putting in effort.

So, he grabbed one of his many notebooks from his bookshelf and his laptop to start googling date spots in San Jose. Reggie scrolled and checked reviews, taking notes on his favorite places for future dates if not the first.

Truthfully, he had no clue if William wanted to do something simple for the first date or do something fun. They talked a lot and had gotten to know each other pretty well already, which was usually the first date activity, so they could probably afford to actually do something if they wanted to.

Biting his lip, he stared at the page. Maybe there were too many options, it looked a bit all over the place. Flipping the page, he started grouping the ideas into activities, formal, and casual. It made him feel a bit better, more organized and easier to pitch to William.

By the time he finished, it was almost game time, so Reggie put on the Sharks pride shirt he’d bought at William’s recommendation and wandered back out to the kitchen. Grabbing some leftovers to heat up, Reggie flipped on the TV and turned to the channel that normally played Sharks games. 

Pre-game commentary started, and he sat on the couch to wait for the microwave to finish up. They were talking about some players that Reggie slightly recognized from William’s stories, and he pulled up the roster on his phone just as his food finished reheating.

Moving back over to the couch, Reggie pulled his feet up underneath him and scrolled through the roster while he waited for dinner to cool. He started matching names to faces, smiling when he heard them talking about William and his three game scoring streak.

“The Sharks got a good one in Harris. I know people talked about his devaluation after coming out, how it could cause problems in the locker room, but we haven’t seen much of that on the ice.”

Reggie grimaced at his words. William hadn’t really gone into depth about how his teammates treated him off the ice, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to bring it up in case it was a sensitive topic. He sighed as they moved on to talk about Joe Thornton, another name he recognized because Wiliam said that the older player had taken him under his wing his first year in the league.

“He’s the best,” he remembered William gushing, “let me stay at his house whenever I needed and really taught me how to survive. Being on the West Coast makes travel during the season brutal. Especially when you get to like January and February.”

Reggie heard the unspoken too, the older player had never given him any grief for his sexuality. He couldn’t even imagine how hard it had been for William to come out. Easier than hiding he guessed since William had done it in the first place. Reggie wasn’t sure even he was brave enough to do something like that in that toxic environment.

While he was lost in thought the game started, and he was startled out of his head when Luke threw the door to his room open. He looked at Reggie suspiciously, “You’re watching hockey again?”

“Yep,” Reggie answered, popping the p.

“Can I watch?”

Reggie was a bit surprised. Only Bobby had shown an ounce of interest, occasionally joining Reggie in watching despite being a Kings fan himself. After a few beats, Reggie answered, “Sure.”

“Sweet! My dad used to take me to hockey games when he wanted me to be an athlete. I couldn’t skate for shit though.”

Reggie snorted, he’d seen Luke’s coordination, so he could believe it. He elbowed Luke who dropped down on the couch next to him, “If they didn’t give gays a weakness, we’d be too powerful.”

Luke laughed loudly, “You’re so right.”

The two boys lapsed into silence as the game picked back up, broken every so often by Reggie making noises in reaction to what was going on in the game. He could feel Luke looking at him in amusement every so often, and when first intermission started, he prepared himself, “What’s up Luke?”

“I need, like, so many explanations.”

Reggie sat up and turned to face him, “Okay, yeah, ask away. I don’t know everything but I know a good bit.”

Luke hummed, “Maybe I should start with the obvious, um, who’s playing?”

“It’s the San Jose Sharks and the Arizona Coyotes.” “Okay,” Luke nodded, holding up two fingers, “who is better?”

“Sharks by far,” Reggie answered confidently.

Luke asked more questions, mostly about penalties and positions, and Reggie, much to his surprise, had an answer to every question. By the end, Luke looked much more relaxed and he leaned back further into the couch, “You really know your shit,” he commended.

“It’s a new interest,” Reggie admitted.

Bobby walked out of his room just as the second period started and stared at the two boys on the couch incredulously. Before Reggie could ask how long he’d been home, Bobby spoke, “I’ve been trying to get you boys to watch sports with me for years. What the hell is going on?”

“We’re multifaceted,” Reggie spoke, chin tilted up, lips quirked up into a teasing smile. 

Bobby snorted and shook his head, “Sure you are.” Sitting down on the other side of Reggie on the couch, he stretched out, “Who are we going for?”

Reggie motioned toward his shirt and Bobby gagged, “But the Kings, bro.”

“Choke,” Reggie deadpanned, and then more teasingly continued, “but you’re straight, I don’t expect you to understand.”

Bobby laughed, throwing his head back against the couch, used to the teasing. He turned his head to look at Reggie, “Fair enough, I suppose I can’t prove you wrong.”

“Never wrong, not once.”

Luke snorted, “I’m sure.”

But instead of responding, Reggie focused back on the TV stubbornly. He didn’t want to miss in case William scored a goal. Reggie would say in case he did something impressive, but in Reggie’s humble opinion, everything William did on the ice was impressive.

“So who’s your favorite player?” Bobby asked, eyes still trained on the TV as the Sharks got a breakaway, three on one.

Reggie leaned forward, hands over his mouth in anticipation, and when William received the drop pass and took a shot, it flew past the goalie, straight in the back of the net. Jumping up, Reggie let out a loud yelp of excitement and immediately went for his phone to send William an excited text for his first goal of the season.

“Harris, huh?” Luke asked and Reggie startled, having temporarily forgotten he wasn’t alone in the room.

Reggie clicked his tongue, “Yep. He’s really good.”

“You know, his story is actually pretty cool,” Bobby leaned forward, elbows on his knees, “how he came out and stuff.”

Nodding eagerly, Reggie grabbed his shoulder and shook him a little, “Yes, that’s why I like him!” He paused and then added, “Well, one of the reasons.”

“Wait, what?” Luke asked, looking back and forth between the two of them, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Google it,” Bobby and Reggie said in unison, fist bumping at Luke’s wounded look.

Reggie took pity on him first, sitting back in between them before slinging an arm around Luke’s shoulder to pull him into his side, “Seriously though, look into it.”

The rest of the game was fairly relaxed. Luke got into it once he started figuring things out, halfway through the second period, and Bobby very reluctantly cheered for the Sharks with them. When Reggie smirked at him, he shrugged, “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

“Damn right.”

-

William was laying in bed, Luna burrowed comfortably into his side, when his phone started ringing. Shutting his eyes, he sighed, exhausted, and picked it up after a few seconds. When he saw who it was, his mood immediately flipped, and he answered Reggie’s FaceTime request without hesitation.

“Nice goal,” Reggie told him in lieu of a proper greeting.

William beamed, rubbing his eyes a few times before sitting up all the way to answer, “Thanks, Reg.”

The other boy hummed before making a noise and pulling the phone away from his face, “Look, the shirt you recommended came in!”

Squinting, William looked at it, the black shirt with a rainbow Sharks logo, and for some reason, unbeknownst to him, his eyes started to burn. He cleared his throat a few times before speaking softly, “I love it.”

“Me too,” Reggie smiled, cheeks reddening a bit. William wanted nothing more than to pinch them, he liked when Reggie blushed because it made him look softer. 

Unable to stop himself, William blurted, “When are you coming?”

“Next week, remember?” Reggie gently reminded him, settling back against his pillow.

William pouted and Luna finally got curious enough to pop her head into view. Not acknowledging it, he told Reggie, “Can’t you come early?”

Reggie sighed, rubbing at his eyes, looking more tired than William had ever seen him, except for maybe the first time they met, “I’d love to, but Luke has been in a writing frenzy. We have daily writing sessions and I’m sure he wants to start rehearsing soon. We’re going to start recording some before we go back on tour.”

“When do you go back on tour?” William was pretty sure he’d never mentioned it, not that he remembered at least.

Reggie hummed, clicking away from FaceTime to check his calendar, and when he came back, answered, “Mid-January. We did a lot of the East Coast and West Coast and a good bit of the Midwest so we still have to hit the South and the middle of the country.”

“How far South?” William asked, curious as to what their reach actually was.

Shrugging, Reggie tapped at his bottom lip in thought, “I think probably New Orleans.”

“New Orleans sounds fun,” William offered.

“Mhmm,” Reggie hummed. He was staring at William, and William felt his head tip to the side and his eyes start to get heavier. Reggie laughed softly, “Tired?”

“Little bit,” William confirmed, yawning.

“Get some sleep.”

William nodded, “Good idea. You too.”

“I will,” Reggie promised, crossing his heart with a faux serious look on his face.

“Good,” William answered, grinning tiredly before they said their goodbyes and hung up for the night. Luna let out a huff and laid back down next to him, and William wrapped his arms around her, trying desperately to squash the sudden loneliness resting heavy on his chest.

“Soon,” he whispered.

-

Reggie left early on a Tuesday morning and caught a flight from LAX to the airport in San Jose. William texted him before he left, promising to pick him up after practice, and by the time Reggie landed, he was practically vibrating with both nerves and excitement. 

I’m outside in the pickup lane! 

Reggie sped up, a bounce in his step, and walked along the line of cars, looking for William. He was toward the back, looking down at his phone, and Reggie knocked on the window, shivering at the gust of wind that hit him.

William jumped at first, startled by his sudden appearance, before he unlocked the door for Reggie to climb in with his carry on. Reggie bit his lip, toning down the wide smile that was threatening to stretch ear to ear, “Hi.”

“Hi,” William responded, just as quietly. His cheeks were tinged red and his smile was more shy than Reggie’s, but he loved it just the same. 

Reggie’s fingers itched to reach up and brush the curl of hair hanging down in his eyes out of the way, but he held back, unsure if he was allowed to. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like William’s fingers twitched too. 

“Ready?”

Taking a deep breath, Reggie nodded, “Absolutely.”

-

William knew he probably should’ve focused fully on the road, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing over at Reggie frequently. Just seeing him, knowing that he was real and there was so comforting, and part of William was already dreading Reggie having to leave the next day.

Reggie was staring out the window, forehead leaning against it, and William wanted to touch. He wanted to hold his hand or touch his cheek or something, just to reassure himself that he was real.

“Are you hungry?” he asked instead.

Reggie hummed, “A little. I could start with a coffee.”

“Me too,” William admitted, changing lanes to head toward his favorite local shop a few miles from his apartment. When he parked, William looked over at Reggie, more uncertain than before, and asked, “I go to this shop pretty frequently, it’s really lowkey and no one will bother us.”

Reaching across the console, Reggie squeezed his shoulder, “I trust you.”

William was nervous, and he wasn’t exactly sure why, but as they walked down the sidewalk, hands occasionally brushing between them, he felt his heart pounding harder and harder with every touch. When they got to the door, William held it open, and Reggie stepped into the mostly empty shop.

A barista William recognized called out a greeting, and Reggie stepped aside to let him lead the way to the counter. The menu was relatively basic aside from a side list of specialty drinks which was what William usually picked from. 

“Their special drinks are really good, I’ve tried most of them,” William muttered, shifting closer to Reggie so he could hear better.

“I might try the s’mores one,” Reggie answered, voice equally muted, “the toasted marshmallow sounds fun.”

“It is,” William told him excitedly.

He ordered his drink and stepped aside to let Reggie order his. Something flickered into the barista’s eye, William wasn’t sure exactly if it was recognition, but she didn’t say anything either way. Reggie picked the table, a two-seater tucked away in the corner, and sat down facing the door.

“So,” he started when William sat across from him, “I did some research on date places in San Jose.”

A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled up in his throat, but William shoved it back down and croaked out, “What?”

“Yeah, I picked out a ton of restaurants that look really good and offer a lot of options for any dietary restrictions you might have. And then for activities I have them grouped into casual and formal and you can pick.”

William stared at him, slack jawed, stare only broken when the barista set their drinks down in between them with a soft, “Enjoy.”

A blush was rising on Reggie’s cheeks, “I would love some feedback.”

Shaking his head, William laughed, “Yeah, that’s all fantastic, but I’ve lived here for years and have never gotten to bring someone on a date, I’ve got so many ideas of my own.”

Reggie sighed, “I don’t want you to do all the heavy lifting, I want to make this equal.”

William furrowed his eyebrows, setting down the latte he’d just taken a sip of, “I invited you here, I didn’t really expect you to worry too much about this part.”

“Well,” Reggie laughed, “guess I did all this for nothing, huh?”

“Next time,” William spoke confidently, picking his drink back up.

Reggie’s eyebrows shot up, “Already assuming there’s going to be a second date before we even have the first one, huh? That’s very bold.”

He shrugged and told him honestly, “I think the first date is going to go great, and if it doesn’t, then we’ll just have to have a do-over. Second date either way.”

“Ah, an intellectual,” Reggie responded, “your reasoning skills are off the charts.”

“Well, I did go to college.”

Reggie held his hands up, “You’ve got me there.”

“My college education is short-lived, but it does exist,” William joked.

“Okay then, Mr. College Education, do you already have a plan?”

William held up his car keys and jingled them in his direction, “I sure do.”

Reggie stared at him for a few seconds and then shook his head, “Fine, I’ll let you have your little mysteries.”

“Thank you,” William said, reaching across the table to brush his fingers across the back of Reggie’s hand. He watched as Reggie’s pinky jumped, bumping his thumb, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying not to show just how fond he was of this boy he’d just met.

-

They spent the entire day on the couch watching movies. Luna was ecstatic to have people around all day, running around and barking until William managed to calm her down. After an hour or so, she fell asleep on the floor at their feet. Mid-afternoon, William broke out some snacks and Reggie laughed because they were vaguely healthy in a way he assumed was required for athletes but definitely not for musicians.  

It was calm, relaxing even, something Reggie hadn’t experienced in so long, maybe ever. His parents did nothing but fight growing up, and then he moved in with three other boys his age. Neither environment was very conducive for peace and quiet. But in William’s apartment, he felt himself nodding off a few times, feeling warm and safe.

“Reg,” William whispered, shaking his shoulder a bit later, and he jumped, not realizing he’d actually fallen asleep.

He rubbed his eyes and croaked out, “What time’s it?”

“About an hour and a half until our reservation.”

“Kay,” he muttered, prying himself off of the absurdly comfortable couch to go to the guest bedroom where his bag was. William had offered to share his bed, but Reggie decided that staying the night was maybe too fast already, so he declined. Thankfully, William didn’t seem to mind.

William moved further down the hall and into his room, Luna padding after him, and Reggie was snapped out of his trance when he heard the click of his door shutting. Shaking himself, Reggie pulled some of his clothes options out of his bag. None of the boys knew exactly where he was going, but the day before he left, they all sat on his bed and gave their strong opinions on his choices.

Eventually, after a few minutes of staring, he decided to mix their picks. William told him it wasn’t fancy and that he needed to dress warm, so Reggie picked the jeans Alex liked, the sweater Luke chose, and Bobby’s shoe pick.

“Hair,” he muttered under his breath, moving toward the ensuite after he was dressed. Reggie had been alive for over 20 years and he’d been dressing himself for over half of them, but he couldn’t help but wish his bandmates were there to help. It was as if they heard his wish, Alex FaceTimed him, Luke hanging over his shoulder with a bright smile on his face.

“Reggie,” Luke cheered when it connected fully, “show us the fit.”

He snorted and flipped the camera so they could see. Alex nodded, seemingly happy with his work, “Looking hot, Reginald. Is this a date?”

Clearing his throat, Reggie’s ears went hot and he shrugged, “Maybe.”

“Well if it is, leave your hair ungelled. It always looks super soft, and you look hot with that strand of hair falling on your forehead.”

Luke nodded enthusiastically, “True!”

“Thanks boys,” Reggie responded distractedly and set the phone down so he could use both hands on his hair. It was silent in the bathroom beyond the noises his friends occasionally made when they moved around or gave him instructions.

“So,” Luke started when Reggie sat on the bed, completely dressed and ready, “where are you?”

“I’m in California,” Reggie tried to deflect.

Alex made a hurt noise in his throat, “Why won’t you tell us?”

Reggie sighed and admitted, “It’s so new. It’s not really a secret, but part of me wants to keep it close until it’s real.”

“I’d say it’s pretty fucking real if you’re flying somewhere for a date.”

Tilting his head back against the wall, Reggie laughed, “I suppose that’s true.”

“When did you meet?” Luke asked, leaning in close to the camera as if trying to get in Reggie’s personal space through the camera.

“Last month on tour.” “A fan?” Alex asked, shocked. All of the boys had discussed the pros and cons of dating fans, and Reggie was stuck at a hard no when they finished the conversation.

Thinking back, he snorted, “Not really. He didn’t know who I was at first, but now he’s a fan.”

“Well,” Luke broke in, “Reg, you show that boy a good time. Don’t forget, you’re a catch and he’s lucky to have you tonight!”

“What Luke said,” Alex added, “and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Reggie rolled his eyes, responding sarcastically, “Thanks, Mom and Dad.” And just as he hung up there was a light knock at the door. He took a shaky breath and walked over, smoothing his sweater down, and when he opened the door, William’s fist was hovering in the air like he was about to knock again.

His mouth went dry looking at William, “Wow, um, you look great,” Reggie managed.

William’s face lit up and he glanced down at himself, “You think? Not as good as you, that’s for sure!”

Reggie struggled for a response, and William put him out of his misery, bumping Reggie’s hand with his and tilting his head toward the front door. Following William out of the building and into the parking garage, Reggie wanted to ask what he had planned, but he hadn’t managed to get it out of him all afternoon, so he stayed quiet.

“You want to pick the music?” William asked, holding out the aux cord and Reggie nodded, taking it eagerly. William nodded, “I want to hear what a music expert listens to.”

“Expert,” Reggie tested the word out on his tongue, “I guess technically out of the two of us, but I don’t know if I’d consider myself an expert.”

“I bet you have some fantastic playlists,” William countered, glancing over as he pulled to a stop at the first red light.

“Well,” Reggie paused because he did actually take a lot of pride in his playlists, “yeah, I think so at least.”

“There you go, own your awesomeness, Reg.”

When William said ‘reservations’ earlier, Reggie assumed it was at a restaurant for dinner, and he was incredibly confused when they pulled into an empty parking lot and William parked right near the door.

“What are we doing?”

“Tonight, since we’re in my city, I figured we could do something specific to me. Since we’re kind of still getting to know each other, you know?”

“Okay,” Reggie answered, unsure where he was going, “I like that idea.”

William sounded relieved, “Good. This is the rink my team usually practices in and I have the keys.”

“Skating?” Reggie asked, immediately nervous.

“Yep,” William chirped, pulling the door open for Reggie before reaching over to flip the lights on. It was cold inside and the lights came on slowly, one at a time across the rink. William grabbed his elbow gently, startling him, and tugged him off to the side.

“I don’t have skates,” Reggie finally spoke, realizing that one huge flaw in the plan may get him out of absolutely humiliating himself.

William waved his words away, “They do public skating nights here sometimes so they have spare pairs for rentals. Eventually we’ll have to get you your own pair.”

That sounded promising, on one hand, William was planning on keeping him around, on the other hand, he’d have to not accidentally crack his head open on the ice to fulfill his plans. But instead of protesting, Reggie was a good sport and told him his shoe size because William seemed really excited, and he didn’t want to spoil it.

“Be right back,” William told him, “I’m going to grab you a pair and get mine and put some music on. We can lace the skates up on the bench.”

“I’ll be right here,” Reggie responded weakly, stomach churning with nerves.

William wasn’t gone long before he was linking his arm with Reggie’s, pulling him again toward the closest bench. Reggie sat down, in a daze, moving slowly as William quickly tied his skates. Turning to Reggie, he saw that he had skates on but they were untied and he laughed, “Never done this before?”

“Hard no.”

“I got you,” William promised, dropping down to one knee in front of him. Reggie’s leg tingled when William brushed against it while he tied the laces. After the left one, he looked up at Reggie, “All good? Not too tight or too loose, right?”

“All good,” Reggie told him, reaching down instinctively just to check.

Before he knew it, the second one was finished too and William was standing in front of him, holding a hand out to help him up. He stepped onto the ice first, Reggie following close behind him, hovering just at the edge.

“I’m assuming you’ve never skated before.”

“You’d assume correctly.”

“Well,” William started, skating backwards a bit to give him space, “the good news is, you have the best teacher on the West Coast at your service.”

“He thinks highly of himself,” Reggie joked, taking a step out onto the ice, wobbling a bit. William kept his distance, close enough that he could get to Reggie fast, but far enough that he had room to get comfortable.

“Not to brag, but I am a professional.”

Reggie snorted and took another step, and then another and another. On his fifth step, he got too confident and almost landed right on his ass, but William swept in, catching him by the armpits, a few inches from the ice.

“Holy shit,” Reggie breathed, eyes wide.

William’s voice sounded like he was holding back laughter, “You good?”

Clearing his throat, Reggie collected himself and stepped away, “I’m good.”

William hovered around him closer after that, always within reach and coached Reggie every so often in a soft tone. It felt like years had passed, but Reggie eventually got comfortable enough to not be wobbling every few steps, and William moved up next to him for the next slow lap.

“Having fun?” he asked.

And Reggie found he actually was, he recognized the playlist and with William’s steady warmth next to him, keeping him safe, he didn’t hate it. After a few seconds with no answer, William bumped Reggie’s hand with the back of his to prompt a response. Reggie snapped out of it, “Yeah, this isn’t as hard as I thought it’d be.”

William’s lips twitched, “Sure, Reg. Whatever you say.”

They finished the lap, William still teasing him, and Reggie elbowed him in the side. William flinched like he’d actually landed a solid hit and pouted. Rolling his eyes, Reggie motioned toward him, “You’re being dramatic.”

“Never,” William responded, reaching up to grab Reggie’s hand, and when he linked their fingers together, any comeback Reggie had flew out of his brain. William didn’t say anything else either, content to skate laps with him, hands swinging between them.

Every so often one of them had a question or something to say, but for the most part it was just the music and the sound of skate blades on ice making noise. Reggie kind of understood why William liked it, it was almost hypnotizing, and he was startled when William tugged on his hand, pulling him back toward the bench.

Reggie gave him a questioning look and William smiled softly, pleased, “Playlist ended. I figure we could go get food now too.”

While Reggie was relieved to be back on solid ground again, he missed the comfortable weight of William’s hand in his. His hand felt cold, and he was trying really hard not to pout. Reggie managed to get the skates off by himself and handed them over to William to put away. 

“Be back in a sec,” William told him breathlessly, cheeks bright red whether from cold or something else, Reggie wasn’t sure, and before he could respond, William was gone.

-

William put the skates back and paused a second to breathe. He was in really good shape, but it felt like he hadn’t been able to catch his breath all night. Shutting his eyes, he smiled thinking back at Reggie’s nervous but determined face as he stepped out of William’s arms after almost falling to skate a few steps on his own.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, “please relax,” he whispered, unsure if he was talking to his brain or his pounding heart. Reggie was looking down at his phone when William met him back out, and he gave William an assessing look. Not entirely sure what he was looking for, William slowly offered his hand back to the other boy, and a smile grew on his face as he took the offered hand.

“What’s for dinner?” Reggie asked, finger stroking over William’s knuckles subconsciously.

William waited to answer until they were both in the car, and he cranked it up, flipping the heat up to high for them. Reggie bumped his knee, and he answered, “I was thinking we could go to a taco truck I like. They have some tables outside, but we can take them home if it’s too cold.”

“Taco truck,” Reggie mused.

Cutting off the rest of his sentence, William rushed out, “We can go to a restaurant too though, I just thought since we’re both sort of public figures we might have less of a spotlight at a food truck.”

When William finished rambling his explanation, he met Reggie’s eyes nervously, and Reggie just smiled, “Sounds like a great pick.”

“Oh,” he said, not expecting it to be that easy.

“Oh,” Reggie echoed.

William blushed and muttered, “Shut up,” before pulling out of the parking lot. 

There were a few people ordering from the truck when they got there, but there was empty seating and someone had plugged in portable heaters for people who wanted to eat there. William waited for Reggie to order before he put his in and led him over to one of the empty tables to sit. 

Reggie looked around curiously and yawned, clapping a hand over his mouth and flushing with embarrassment when he caught himself. Laughing, William teased, “Am I boring you?”

“Actually, yes,” Reggie teased back.

“Oh, that’s a shame, I actually thought this was going pretty well.”

Reggie’s face softened and he reached across the table to poke William’s hand, “It is.”

One of the workers called his name with the food before William could respond, so he just shut his mouth and stood up to go get them. When he got back, the moment was gone, and they both focused on eating. The tacos were good as always, and within 30 minutes they were back in the car, heading back to William’s apartment.

“Movie?” he asked Reggie when they got back inside.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

William frowned, “Wait, I have to walk Luna first, you good to stay?”

“I should probably take a shower,” Reggie smiled wryly referencing the sweat he broke while struggling to skate.

“Okay,” William nodded, “I’ll be back soon. Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks, Will.”

Before he could think twice, William grabbed Reggie’s sleeve and pulled him back, pressing a light kiss to his forehead.

-

Reggie barely remembered getting to bed after the movie, but he definitely hated the next morning when his alarm started going off early. He hit snooze and was almost back asleep when William was knocking on the door gently, “You awake?”

“Yeah,” Reggie croaked, voice cracking from disuse.

“Okay,” William answered, “I’ll make some coffee while you get ready and I can drop you off before practice.”

Reggie was touched. He knew how tired William was all the time, and selfishly, he was glad William offered because he wanted to spend as much time as possible with him since he had no clue when he’d be able to see William in person again.

He got dressed and packed and remade the guest bed before he joined William in the kitchen. There were two mugs on the counter, one made up and one black for Reggie to fix how he liked. William watched through squinted eyes, chin resting on his palm, and told Reggie, “Gonna try and remember so next time I can have it ready.”

Reggie’s eyes burned and he took a sip of his fixed drink. Glancing over at William’s mug, he asked, “What about you?”

“Splash of almond milk and a lot of sugar.”

Tapping his temple, Reggie promised, “I’ll remember that.”

They finished their coffee like that, crowded together in the kitchen, William’s forehead resting on Reggie’s shoulder between sips. Halfway through his cup, Reggie linked his fingers through William’s again, both of their hands warm from holding the mugs. He was going to miss that more than he thought. Fuck, leaving was going to hurt. In fact, he wasn’t sure anything could hurt worse.

But he was wrong. When William pulled him into a tight hug outside the airport, he brushed his lips ever so slightly across Reggie’s forehead again, just like the night before. Walking away from that, fighting to not turn around lest he be tempted to skip his flight and never leave, that hurt more.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Flatbush & Atlantic: part ix

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii part viii

And here we’ve got part ix! This will be the second-to-last part of the series, I’ve got some thoughts also running around for a possible epilogue if that’s something anyone would be interested in reading. As always, there’s literally nothing writers love more than hearing from you all, so don’t be afraid to come and tell me what you think - my inbox is open, comment on the post, reblog with your thoughts!

part ix

April 27 (tues)

Mat’s mind was racing. If he was honest, he hadn’t been able to concentrate worth a damn since Cass had dropped the news about her job offer. Hong Kong? He knew she was brilliant, knew that her skills could and should take her anywhere in the world she wanted to go; the thought that she might leave New York, leave him, was still terrifying. Becoming more worried by the minute, he pulled out his phone, dialing the first person he could think of that might be able to help. 

Tito answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Tito. What’s up?” Mat asked nervously. 

“What’s wrong, Mat?” He immediately asked. Mat cursed under his breath; even over the phone, Beau was always able to read him like a book. 

Mat grimaced. “That obvious, huh?”

“Mat, we see each other pretty much every day. Not to be a jerk or something, but you don’t really call me unless something’s wrong. What is it? Did you and Cass have a fight?” Mat could imagine him crossing his arms on the other end. 

“Not exactly,” he said, scratching his head as he wandered aimlessly around the park. “She got this job offer, and it sounds like a really exciting opportunity, but…” He trailed off. 

“But?”

“It’s all the way in Asia. It’s in Hong Kong.” 

Tito sucked in a breath. “Oh, wow. That’s a big one. Big move. Has she said if she’s going to take it?”

“Not really, she hasn’t decided.” Mat shook his head, not realizing Tito wouldn’t be able to see. “We talked through it a little, they’re offering a really good starting salary and she likes the company values, but it’s such a huge jump that she’s not ready to make the call yet.” 

“Did you talk about what it would mean for you as a couple?”

“A little, though not as much as we probably should have,” Mat admitted. “Neither of us would want to break it off just because it would be long distance, but logistically it would just be a nightmare. It’s something like a 15 hour flight from New York, so it’s not like either of us would ever be able to make that more than once or twice a year. Did you know that it’s a twelve hour time difference from here?”

“No,” Tito said, “and it’s obviously not like I know exactly what you’re going through. Paige is a kindergarten teacher, so it’s not exactly like her job would suddenly pick up and move to another country. But it’s obviously a different story with me.”

As distracted as he was, Mat felt compelled to respond. “You know they’re going to resign you, right? It would be a terrible move for them if they didn’t.”

“Yeah, I mean that’s what I’ve figured,” Beau responded. “And my agent told me to expect negotiations to start in the next month or so, but still. I could be sent to Winnipeg or Phoenix or Vancouver pretty much without notice, and I wouldn’t want to ask her to just pick up her whole life and follow me. So, I get the feeling.” He paused for a moment. “How do you feel about it?”

“Mixed feelings,” Mat answered honestly. “I’d never want to hold her back from anything, that’s not the kind of person I am and it’d be a dick move regardless. She’s her own person and deserves to be able to make her own decisions. And I would never want her to grow to resent me if she decided to stay for my sake. That would almost be worse. I just..I really love her, Tito, and I would hate for us to never be able to see eachother because of her job. Or worse, for this to mean the end of us because the distance was too hard to deal with.”

It took Tito a minute to respond. “I know you love her, Mat. It’s pretty obvious. You look at her like she hung the moon. But if they all say that things will work out if you love each other and talk it through, then what are you so worried about?”

Mat took a deep breath before answering, trying to gather his thoughts as best he could. When he spoke, his voice wavered. “Because I’ve never been this gone for a girl, Tito. What Cass and I have...I don’t even know how to describe it. I’d stop the Earth turning if it made her happy. It’s just...she’s it for me. I’m done looking. And the idea that I could be 13,000 kilometers away from her isn’t even something I had considered. I wouldn’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

“Wow. That’s...that’s big, Mat. You serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he replied. 

“When do they need to hear back by?” Tito asked.

Mat looked down at his watch, checking the time. “Not for a few weeks. She’s got some time to decide, which is almost worst.”

Tito hummed sympathetically. “Just talk it through. I can’t pretend like I know what’s going to happen, but I have faith in you. It’s going to work out.”

“I hope so.”

 May 13 (thurs)

 It was nine days before Cass graduated, and if she was being honest, her time may have objectively been better spent studying for her finals, the first of which was Monday. But this was Mat, and this was the Stanley Cup Playoffs, and she supposed that her studies could wait for a night while she spent her evening at Barclays. It was Game 5 of the Eastern Conference final, and there was no way she was going to miss her team’s chance at the Wales trophy. The tone in the arena was tense from the moment she stepped in; ever the optimist, Cass liked the Islanders’ chances, but the fact remained that they were down 3-1 in the series after a 4-0 rout by the Lightning in Game 4. The series had started off with forward momentum after winning the first game at home, but the three-game losing streak had done little for the fans’ hopes and even less for the team’s morale. 

The only bright spot, if she could call it that, was Mat’s return to the ice. He knew as well as anything that the recovery time was for his own good, but he wasn’t made to be cooped up in his apartment for nearly two weeks straight, save only doctor’s appointments and short trips to the complex gym. Per his usual dramatic fashion, Mat had been cleared in time for Game 7 of the second round, returning to raucous cheers and scoring two goals in the eventual 4-2 win over the Capitals. She had caught up enough on her work to be able to make the game, and it was one of the great joys of her life to be up in a box surrounded by her friends when the love of her life scored the goal that sent the Islanders to the conference finals for the first time in nearly thirty years. 

That kind of a dramatic win had made the losing streak that much harder. Game sevens are always exciting, especially with someone coming back off of injured reserve. While the win hadn’t made the team cocky by any means, the confidence had carried over into something more closely resembling complacency. They won Game 7, they won the first of the next series, so some of the team — mostly the younger players who hadn’t yet cut their teeth in the league — had made the mistake of assuming that the rest of the round would be smooth sailing. They should have known better, Cass thought ruefully as the Lightning scored two minutes before the first intermission to even the score at 1-1. Why couldn’t this be the round before, filled with confidence and coordination and laser-focused passing on every line? Why couldn’t it have been the celebration after? 

---

May 3 (tues)

 Winning a game sometimes called for going out. Winning a series almost definitely called for going out. And winning a series in Game 7 that sent your team to the conference finals for the first time in recent memory called for going out, and going out hard. As much as Cass would have loved to get as hammered as the rest of the group, especially considering the stress she was under with finals and graduation and her job offer piling up, they didn’t want a repeat of the afterparty from the All-Star Game, and Cass still had school the next day. So, she had committed to limiting herself to three drinks. “I want to be tipsy, not shitfaced,” she had explained to Paige on the drive over. Tito had driven his car over, Paige volunteering to DD so the boys could let loose and everyone could let off some much-needed steam. 

Someone had already opened up a tab for everyone by the time their car had gotten there, and it wasn’t ten minutes before they had claimed a few couches in the corner and Cass had a caipirinha in her hand. She was a little worried that Mat’s tolerance had tanked in the past few weeks; he hadn’t really drank since before the concussion and it was their first time at a bar in a few weeks regardless. Mat noticed her nervous glances out of the corner of his eye. “I’m fine,” he reassured her. “I specifically asked the doctors if I was good to drink at my last appointment and they said I was in the clear.”

Cass giggled, sipping her drink. “You asked your doctors if you could drink alcohol?”

“What can I say?” Mat shrugged. “I wanted to go out and get lit with friends, can you blame me?”

Cass’ giggles had evolved into full-on belly laughs. “Lit? What are you, sixteen?”

Mat’s cheeks reddened in what was probably a combination of alcohol and embarrassment. “My cousin said it once.”

Cass headed back over to the bar a few minutes later for another drink, leaving the boys to talk amongst themselves with the occasional interruption from an excited fan. On a high from the win, the team were more than happy to take photos and have quick chats with anyone who stopped them, and thankfully weren’t mobbed by the crowd inside the bar. For the most part, Cass and her relationship with Mat had been able to fly under the radar — well, as much as she could being Mat Barzal’s other half. Her Instagram hadn’t been private since college, and while a fair few fans and fanpages followed her, it had all remained mercifully low-key. Waiting at the bar, she resigned herself to scroll through Twitter for a few minutes, knowing it would be a little while before the bartender got to her. 

“Are you Cassidy Shaw?” Cass’ head turned slowly towards her right, where a short blonde girl looked at her with a shocked expression. 

“Cabrera Shaw, but yes?” She answered slowly. 

“Sorry!” The girl apologized, “I didn’t mean to be weird or anything. I follow you on Instagram, it’s just so weird to finally see you in person.” Cass gave a nervous laugh. She had fans? On Instagram? Who were excited if they met her in real life? 

“One Southside and whatever your favorite IPA on tap is, please,” Cass said to the bartender who had just leaned over the counter to get her order. “Thank you? You’re welcome?” Cass smiled awkwardly.

“I just wanted to say that I think it’s super cool how you’re not a typical WAG or anything. My name’s Sierra, I’m a junior at St. John’s. I’m applying for law school next year. It’s just, like, awesome to see a woman being successful in her own right apart from her partner, especially when they’re in such a visible position and it’s not what’s expected of them. I’m sorry — I’m rambling, aren’t I?” 

Cass laughed, a genuine one this time. “No, you’re totally good. Don’t worry. That’s really sweet of you to say, thanks a lot!” She sipped the Southside the bartender had just handed her, sliding Mat’s beer over. “Yeah, I have so much respect for the other women who choose to do more philanthropic work or be stay-at-home moms, but that’s not what I feel pulled to. Right now, at least.” 

“Right, totally,” Julia said, grabbing what looked like a rum and coke from the other bartender. “Anyways, I should let you get back to the celebration. Tell the team congratulations, it was a great game to watch!” 

Cass picked up the other glass, nodding. “I will. Thank you for your kind words, that was sweet of you to say.”

“Anytime!” Julia chirped happily. 

Cass walked carefully back over to the group, keeping an eye on the drinks. She handed Mat’s beer to him. He looked up curiously, taking a sip. “Something hold you up at the bar?”

She shook her head, then nodded, then shook it again. “Kind of? I think I just had my first fan encounter.”

He laughed, leaning over to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Comes with the territory, babe.”

---

The game was scoreless through the second period, which didn’t help the tension in the stadium or Cass’ blood pressure. She and Paige had decided to get actual seats for the game, which Mat and Tito were more than happy to arrange. The Islanders were doing well through the first half of the third period, other than a little bit of messy passing the lines were good. But good wasn’t good enough sometimes, good wasn’t close enough to score and give them the lead. Cass’ heart sank as soon as one of the defensemen, she wasn’t sure who, made a turnover in the neutral zone to give the Lightning the puck. Kucherov picked it off, skating past the defenders and around the goal while the rest of the line nearly tripped over themselves trying to skate back in time. 

She was on the edge of her seat as he wrapped around the goal, silently praying that Varlamov would somehow be able to get a piece of the puck with his blocker or that it would have one of those one-in-a-million deflections off of the post. You could hear a pin drop in the stadium as everyone waited for the shot; tall of the sudden, time seemed to move like molasses. And then the puck went in, the red light went on, and the scattered sections of blue-and-white clad Lightning fans threw their arms up in celebration. 

Cass allowed herself exactly ten seconds to hold her head in her hands. There was still seven minutes, thirty nine seconds left. There was still time. Then there was five minutes, forty-two seconds left, and Maroon got two minutes for tripping, and that was their chance. That was supposed to be their chance. But then the penalty came and went, and it was three minutes left. Two minutes left. They pulled Varlamov at one minutes fifty-eight seconds left, and then it was the last shift. Forty-nine seconds left, and it was time for a Hail Mary. Out of habit, Cass’s lips began moving in the prayer. Hail Mary, full of grace...It was a holdover from her lacrosse days, when they were down in the last quarter with seemingly no hope in sight. It didn’t always work, but it sometimes did. It didn’t work that night. It didn’t work because the clock ticked down to zero, the score was still 2-1, and the Islanders had lost. They were out of the playoffs. Fans began shuffling out of the rink, shoulders slumped and heads down, as Cass bit her lip and tried not to cry. The team had worked so hard for this. God, they had worked so hard. And if she was taking it this badly, if it was affecting her this much, then she couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like for the guys on the team. 

Paige turned to her after a few minutes, when there were only a handful of people still left in their seats and the Zambonis had come out to resurface the ice one last time. “We should probably get down there, do you think?” She asked softly. Cass nodded. She was referring to the tunnel, outside the locker room where everyone usually got to greet their partners with kisses and hugs and words of congratulations, but where the mood would be profoundly different on that night. Cass grabbed her bag and straightened out her jersey, squeezing Paige’s hand. Neither of them really knew what the environment was going to be like after such a devastating knockout; Paige had started dating Anthony the summer before, and Cass obviously had even less experience. They had dealt with losses, they had dealt with disappointments and losing streaks and points droughts, but this was something new entirely.

They rode the elevator in silence before walking down the corridors to the room, where the rest of the WAGs and other family had congregated. Kerry rubbed her shoulder sympathetically as Lauren walked over. “We in the Islanders family have a lot of experience with getting knocked out of the playoffs,” she said with a weak smile, trying to crack a joke, “so here is how it usually goes. The guys should be coming out in a few, it takes longer than usual because the media typically has some end-of-the-season wrapup questions and Trotz and Anders will probably make speeches or say something. Some others might too.” The two women nodded. “Don’t treat it like just another loss, but it’s also no good to hover too much. It’s obviously a real disappointment, so it usually takes a week or so before most of them bounce back to being their normal selves. They know what coping mechanisms work best for them. Most will hit the gym more, read or cook if they’re into that, something to get their mind off of it. Obviously they’re still players and still want to know how they can get better, so they might want to go over tapes of the games and make notes of where they went wrong. That’s fine, but don’t let them beat themselves up about it too much. This was a hard series, and Mat especially,” she gestured towards Cass, “tends to be more than a little bit of a perfectionist.”

“I’ve noticed,” Cass said. 

“One last thing,” she continued. “Let them process, let them cope, but a loss not an excuse for them to treat you any worse, any less kindly. Be understanding, of course. But don’t take any crap from them, regardless of the circumstance.”

“Thank you,” Paige said gratefully. Cass echoed her sentiment. The next ten minutes were filled with checking emails and making half-hearted conversation before the team started to trail out of the room. Embracing their partners and families, most couples exchanged no more than a few words before turning down the hall that led to the players’ parking lot. Paige left with a squeeze to her shoulder and a promise to get coffee the next week before grabbing Tito’s hand and guiding him towards the cars. 

Unsurprisingly, Mat followed right behind. He hadn’t combed his hair after his shower, the top button of his dress shirt was undone and only haphazardly tucked into his pants. Mat had been on the shift when Kucherov scored, and if there was anything she knew about her boyfriend, it was that he’d take it personally. He dropped his bag on the ground as she embraced him, and the thud against the concrete floor felt as if it could echo all the way across the Long Island Sound. 

“I’m so proud of you, Mat. So, so proud. I know this didn’t end how you wanted it to, but you worked so fucking hard to get here, and that’s what I see. That’s all I see,” she whispered. 

Mat wasn’t crying, but his breathing was labored nonetheless. “I just feel...I feel like I let everyone down. I wasn’t supposed to be that far up on the ice, and if I hadn’t, maybe I would have gotten back in time to steal the puck, or check him or something, or…” He trailed off. 

Cass sighed. “I know, chou, I know how you feel. But just try to remember that this is a team sport. You win with the boys, you lose with the boys. Do you get mad at Tito when he makes a bad play? Or Jordan, or Anders?” Mat shook his head. “It’s the same way with you. They don’t stop being proud of you or think you’re any less of an incredible player because you made a bad decision. Bad decisions get made all the time, and it doesn’t have to reflect on the person who made them. It’s a hard game, love, but you did your best and that’s all anyone ever has a right to ask of you.” 

Mat’s thumb rubbed against the small of her back. “I know I’ll be fine, eventually. I mean, we’ve all dealt with this before. It just seems different this time, because we were so close to actually making the finals. It seems kind of silly to say since I know I’m only 23 and I know I’ve got so much time left to play, but,” he took a shaky breath, “I look at all the veterans, all the amazing players whose entire careers have gone by without ever having gotten the Cup. Lundqvist and Thornton and Marleau and all of these legends. And it sounds kind of selfish and naive, but I don’t want to be one of them.” 

They stood like that for a few more minutes, just holding each other, before either spoke again. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” Cass murmured to Mat as she carded her hands through his hair. She felt a tiny, almost imperceptible nod against her shoulder. Her bag had her laptop, books, and chargers. She had a whole drawer in Mat’s room by then, a combination of stray shirts that were his-turned-hers, a few pairs of leggings — they took up an entire drawer of their own back at her apartment — and balled-up socks from her one unsuccessful attempt at doing the laundry in his building. She had a spare box of tampons in his bathroom, her floral shampoo next to his 2-in-1 Old Spice. No matter how hard she pushed, Mat remained oblivious to the benefits of having separate shampoo and conditioner. 

He pulled away, reaching into his pocket and handing over his keys. “Do you mind driving?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. Whatever you need.”

The ride back home was about forty minutes, and it was almost halfway through before either of them spoke, the lull of the 80s rock channel filling in the silence. “Where’s your head at, Mat?” She asked carefully. 

He was looking out the window, distracted. “Hm?”

She repeated the question and he tensed slightly, leaning back into the passenger seat. “Just feeling kind of...confused about the whole thing. Seems like I’m being pulled in a thousand different directions one day, but then all of the sudden something like this happens and I’ve got nothing. It’s overwhelming. I know I have a life outside of hockey, I know it’s not all of who I am, but sometimes it seems hard to believe that when it seems like that’s all I’m recognized for.” Keeping one hand on the wheel, Cass reached over to cover his hand with her own. His fingers held onto hers like a lifeline. 

“You’re right, you know?” She said as they passed into the Queens-Midtown tunnel. 

“About?”

“Being so much more than people perceive you to be. I get that, it’s like that for me too sometimes. And Mat, you are so much more than ‘just a hockey player.’ You’re a good son and an amazing brother to Liana, and an awesome friend to Tito and the guys on the team and everyone back home. And,” she added, cracking a smile, “you’re a pretty good boyfriend too.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Just pretty good?”

“I didn’t want to fluff your ego too much,” Cass said. “But seriously, Mat. You’re incredible entirely on your own merit. You care so deeply for the people in your life and you love so hard, and it’s an honor and a privilege to be able to witness that firsthand.” 

Mat bent down to the center console, brushing a kiss over her hand. “How do you do it?”

Now it was her turn to question. “Do what?”

“Always know the right thing to say.”

“I don’t,” Cass admitted. “And sometimes I get it wrong. But I know I love you, and I don’t want to see you hurting if there’s anything I can do about it.” The car exited the tunnel into the dotted lights of a Manhattan evening. 

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “if there was an Oscar for pep talks, I’d have to give it to you, hands down. No offense to any of the guys on the team.”

She laughed, stopping at the light. Right on red wasn’t legal in New York City, a rule she found out the hard way two months after moving. “I’m glad it helps.”

“It does,” Mat said softly. “It means the world to me that you care enough to do it. You mean the world to me.”

Her cheeks heated. “You sure know how to flatter a girl, eh, Barzal?”

“I meant every word.”

---

May 20 (thurs)

 She was done. After three years, six semesters, dozens of classes, and hundreds of hours studying, Cass had just finished her last final of law school. Her classmates stumbled out of the lecture hall, not entirely believing that all of their tears and heartache and hard work had come to a head in such an anticlimactic fashion. Turning on her heel, she walked south. It was just before seven, and her friends had a group reservation at some ridiculously extravagant French wine bar. It was Les’ idea, who had a penchant for all things expensive and who had made the reservation months prior because “you never know, John Mayer could book the whole place up and as much as I love dollar slices, we don’t want that to be our only option for what’s supposed to be a very prestigious celebratory dinner.” Les, Fiona, and Samaira were coming, along with Daniel, another editor on the law review, and Robin, one of Cass’ friends from first-year criminal law and the president of the Women’s Law Association. She had initially been wary about inviting Mat; it wasn’t that she didn’t think he’d get along with her law school friends, but she didn’t want him to feel out of the loop. After Les had announced that he was bringing his boyfriend, Xavier, Cass had extended the invite to Mat as well. 

It was only a ten minute walk, and the hostess directed Cass to their table, where she realized that she was the last one to arrive. “Don’t worry,” Robin said, “we’ve just been interrogating your man.” 

Cass scooted in next to Mat, kissing him quickly before rolling her eyes. “I hope you haven’t been too hard on him.”

Mat smiled. “Nah, they’ve been good. But being questioned by six lawyers who all seem very adamant that I don’t deserve you —”

“You don’t,” Samaira cut in, though it was clear she was joking. 

“Was more than a little intimidating,” Mat finished, handing Cass the menu. 

“Order whatever you want, I’m paying,” Daniel said as he flicked through the wine menu. “Well, technically, my parents are.” Daniel came from money; his mom was a partner at a firm in Chicago and his dad was a law professor at the University of Chicago. “If they’re going to insist on sending me to law school and sheltering me my whole life, the least I could do is take advantage of their generosity,” Daniel said, plunking his credit card onto the table. Fifteen minutes later, the group was sharing plates of escargots, crab tartine, and roasted cauliflower; twenty minutes after that, entrées were served. Mat had recognized the waitress’ accent and was chatting to her in French in between plates. Cass sipped on her wine, a pinot noir, and took a moment to look around the room, a moment to relax. Two more days, and she graduated. Everything that she had worked so hard for was finally coming to fruition. She still had to pass the bar in July, sure, but for one night — for a few days, really — she was going to let herself finally rest in the ability of her accomplishments. 

Dessert was maple bourbon crème brûlée with Sauternes, and Mat may have had a little too much fun breaking the caramelized sugar. Cass was full of good food and conversation; after everyone was done it was after nine. Les, Daniel, and Xavier had decided to get drinks, but Robin had barely slept at all that week, Samaira was going to watch a movie at her boyfriend’s, and Cass and Mat had to wake up early to get her grandparents from the airport. Mat took her hand as they walked towards the subway station. He had parked a few blocks away and offered to drive Cass back to her apartment, but she didn’t want him to go out of his way and all things considered, taking the subway at night had become something of a routine for her. 

They walked down Manhattan Avenue, resting in the kind of comfortable silence that only came with being with someone who really gets you. Cass had decided not to take the Hong Kong job the week prior. It was just too much distance from her family and Mat, and while the job seemed interesting enough, it wasn’t the kind of position she thought she could really be happy in long-term. “Have you figured out what you’re doing yet?” Mat asked as they turned the corner. “I’d say you should just move in with me and become a full-time housewife, but something’s telling me that’s not exactly the kind of opportunity you’re searching for.”

 Cass laughed, bumping him with her shoulder. “Tempting offer, the housewife thing, but I think I’m going to have to pass. Plus that would necessitate you wifing me up.” 

Mat kissed her head. “All in due time, pretty girl.” “But anyways, about the job search.” Cass said, a smile playing on her lips. “I was going to wait until graduation to surprise you, but since you asked…” She paused for dramatic effect. “Chris offered me a job. Permanently.” 

Mat stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Chris? Like Islanders Chris? Lawyer Chris?” 

She giggled. “Yes. Islanders lawyer Chris. You’re looking at the new Associate Counsel for the New York Islanders, Mat.” Mat damn near hollered in celebration, picking Cass up and spinning her around before pulling her into what was very possibly one of the best kisses of her life. Cass barely took notice of the tourists watching them from the side or her own public display of affection. It was New York City. They had seen weirder. 

It felt like a weight had been lifted off of Mat’s chest. He was being honest when he said that he wouldn’t have done anything to get Cass to stay, it just wasn’t his place. But he also would have been lying if he had said it would be anything but heartbreaking to see her leave. It was like he told Tito. Not even giving the future a chance to work itself out would be worse than a breakup. And with any luck, they’d never have one of those either. They rounded the last corner, steps down to the subway in sight, when Mat remembered what he had wanted to ask her but had been interrupted by her news. Her incredible, perfect news. “What would you think about spending some time in Canada this summer?”

Cass, seemingly oblivious, answered, “Oh? Like as a vacation?”

He shook his head. “No, like in Coquitlam with my family.”

“You want me to spend the summer with you and your family?” Cass asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah, only if you want to, of course. And I’m not sure when the job with the team starts, or…” He looked down.

Cass smiled. “I’d love to, but are you sure it isn’t too much? I don’t want to feel like I’m intruding on family time, I know you don’t get a lot of time with them since you’re here most of the year. I don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated to bring me around just because we’re together.”

They stopped by a lamp. Cass leaned up against the post. “Cass. My parents have made it very clear to me that you’re family, and that they’ll have my head if I’m ever dumb enough to let you go.” She snickered. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t intend on ever letting that happen. My family loves you, my sister thinks you’re way cooler than me.” 

“She’s got good taste,” Cass said, tilting her head.  

Mat laughed. “She does. She told me you guys were texting the other day about the guy she’s interested in, giving her advice. Sure, it was my idea to invite you, but they were so on board from the moment I mentioned it. Plus, my friends back home are getting annoyed with me because they haven’t met you yet with how often I talk about you.” 

She bit her lip. “How long were you thinking of staying?”

Mat shrugged. “Leave in a couple weeks, I usually stay two months or so, so until sometime in August?”

“I’d have to fly back to take the bar in July, and I’d still need some time to study while we’re over, but my contract doesn’t start until the end of August, so…”

“You’ll come?” Mat smiled hopefully.

She nodded. “I’ll come. I’ve never been to Canada before, did you know that?”

He shook his head, leaning in and brushing a kiss on her hairline. “You’re going to love it.”

[writingmyanxietyaway]

The Devil’s Bride | Berlin

Requested by @lasnutriasmolan​: Hi! Could you please do either prompt 17 or prompt 18 for Berlin? I looove your writing and Im really looking forward to your next imagines for him. Thanks! :) 

Word count: 1.8k

Warning: a little angst and swearing? also a very romantic Berlin who makes your heart go whooo

Note: not my gif! I tried to make it as non-spoiler as possible, but I can’t promise 100%!

Surprise! I merged both of the prompt together because I had a really fun idea for them. Hope you like it, lovely! x

#17 - “Where did you learn to dance?”

#18 - “Where were you? Do you have any idea as to how worried I was?”

------------

He was gone. You had no idea where he was. One moment you were laying in bed together, falling asleep and when you opened your eyes he was gone. At first you thought nothing of it, he often spent the day somewhere else without you knowing. He once went missing for two complete days because he wanted to get you the necklace you always wanted; it wasn’t available where you were living at that time so he traveled through three different countries to get it for you. But now there was something off. You could feel it. It was now night and you still hadn’t heard of him. You had thought about calling his brother, but after some contemplation you decided not to. He was probably in the city somewhere with some of his friends. But it was exactly that that made you worry. He could have been arrested and put behind bars without you knowing. 

Your breath hitched and the walls of the room you were sitting in suddenly closed in on you. You thought about the fact that he might have been captured or that he was killed at sight. You couldn’t bare live with the fact that he would never come back to you. Deciding you wouldn’t sit down and let everything happen, you got up and searched every room again. As you had done three times before today. 

When you arrived at the bathroom, you saw a puddle of what looked like blood in the sink. You screamed loudly and tears filled your eyes. You stepped back and almost tripped on your own feet. A small envelope laid on the edge of the sink and you hesitated to open it. It had your name written on it. Once you dared to step towards the sink, you read the letter.

dear Y/N,

how ironic it is we meet this way. you are now looking for me instead of the other way around. we shall meet soon, my love. i have something you hold dearly. i cannot wait to meet you.

x

Your hands were shaking after reading the letter and somehow the only thing you could think of was death. The person who wrote this has the love of your life and they have now come for you too. You knew Berlin wasn’t the most liked person, but you never expected someone to actually come for him.

A sudden slam of a door made you scream and you quickly turned around. You grabbed a toothbrush off the sink and held it in front of you. As if you were going to stab someone with a toothbrush?! You carefully stepped forwards, but saw nothing. All the doors were closed, except for one. A bright light shone from the bedroom and you carefully made your way towards it. Once you arrived, another letter was set up against a lit candle. It was a scented candle, your favourite.

dear Y/N,

exciting, is it not? you’re getting closer, but you’re not there yet. can you guess who i am? and what it is you’re seeking? i’m sure a smart woman like you can figure it out. in the kitchen you will find another envelope, if you dare to find it.. i cannot wait to meet you.

x

‘Who is there?!’ you yelled, but was only met by silence. You only now noticed there was something laying next to the candle. It was a necklace. The one you gave Berlin for his birthday last year. ‘No..’ you whispered. Next to it laid a box. It was quite large and had a big bow on top. A note was attached to the top and it said ‘open me’. With shaking hands you opened the box and inside laid a beautiful red gown. In your size. How did they know your size and who were these people?!

‘Whoever is doing this, please stop!’ you yelled again, but your voice broke. You hesitated before putting on the dress that seemed to fit you perfectly and heels to go along with the dress. If you would die, at least do it in style, right?! Wiping away your tears, you made your way towards the kitchen. And like the letter said, there was another envelope. You noticed it smelled like your favourite food, pasta a la fonollosa, a pasta Berlin created himself and you fell in love with the first time you tasted it. You smiled softly to yourself as the realisation hit you this was all part of Berlin’s little plan. You took the letter and read it.

dear Y/N,

i’m sure a smart woman like you has figured out most of what is going on. meet me in the dining room. i cannot wait to meet you.

x

The fear had disappeared by now, but you were still very on edge. The kitchen of your house, or rather mansion, led to the hallway. You gasped when you saw the path that was made of candles that led you through the house. The walls that were previously covered with paintings, were now covered in photo’s of you and Berlin. Your first photo together was one where his brother and your sister were on it too. It brought tears to your eyes. You sister had passed away soon after that picture was made due to her illness. You and Berlin met at a bar during intermission when you and your sister went to the theatre to see the musical The Phantom of The Opera. It was her last wish to go to the theatre and see that play. Berlin, being a fan of theatre and opera himself, went with his brother. The two of you hit off and your sister and his brother became very good friends.

The next was his favourite photo he ever made of you. Seeing it made you incredibly shy and self conscious, but he loved every inch of it. It wasn’t a secret that Berlin loved the female body and all it’s curves, but you were special in his eyes. It was a picture he made when you were in Paris. You were standing on the balcony, completely nude and facing the sun, with your body blocking the sun, your silhouet framing every piece of you perfectly. It wasn’t a filthy, porno-like photo, but it was a piece of art. Even you had to admit it was a picture you would buy yourself to hang in the living room had it not been you.

A couple of photo’s further down hung your favourite photo of you two. You felt a smile creep on your lips as you stared at the photo. It was the first photo of you two in this house. You were laying on the grass, your legs thrown over Berlin’s as you stared in each other’s eyes. Both of your smiles reached to your eyes as you stared at each other lovingly. One of the maids had taken the photo and you had loved it ever since.

You got snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a little bell jingle. You turned your head and followed the lights. Turning the corner, you gasped. In the middle of the ballroom was a table prepared for two. The room was filled with candle lights and rose petals. Soft music was playing in the background. It looked like a scene from a movie. You noticed a letter was positioned on the table, leaning agaist a bottle of wine. You opened the note and rose petals fell out. You snorted at the corny, romantic gesture.

dear Y/N,

i know i might not be the best boyfriend. i know i might not be the man you want me to be. and i know i’m not the man you deserve. but there is one thing that no man will ever have that i do have. my love for you. it is stronger than any type of glue, it will spread wider than any kind of reception and it is deadlier than any type of bullet. what i want to say is that i love you so much, babygirl. my love for you has no limit. i want to spend the rest of my life with you and have a family with you. if you’ll have me?

When you were done reading tears were pouring down your face. Your chest physically hurt at the thought of ever losing Berlin. You could feel your heart beating loudly in your chest as you tried to calm yourself.

‘So? What do you say?’

You gasped and quickly turned around to see Berlin on one knee with a small shining ring in a small red velvet box. He wore a black suit with a deep red bow tie, matching your dress.

‘Will you do the honors of marrying me?’ he asked, a big smile on his face.

‘If you seriously think I’m going to say no after I tried to protect myself with a toothbrush and after you’ve done all this, you’re crazier than I thought, Andres. If course I’ll marry you, casanova.’

He rose from the ground and placed the ring on your finger. You held him close and breathed in his strong cologne. You felt yourself relax into his touch, but it was cut short by you slapping his arm.

‘Where were you?! Do you have any idea as to how worried I was?! And what was the whole point of scaring the shit out of me?’ you exclaimed.

‘Do you think this appeared out of nowhere? I wanted to make it special for my princess,’ he said, leaning in and kissing you passionately. ‘I would never let anything happen to you. You’re safe here. I would rather die than let anything happen to you.’

‘I love you, Andres. So much.’ The two of you swayed a little to the music and soon enough you were dancing along to the music. You placed your right hand on his shoulder and held his hand with the other. His left hand was placed on your waist.

‘Mrs. Fonollosa, where did you learn to dance?’ he whispered in your ear, placing a soft kiss behind you ear. A tingle spread through your body and you wished you could stay like this forever.

‘Shut up, you,’ you giggled. You used to be a dance instructor, so moving to any rythm was in your blood.

‘May I just say you look exquisite tonight, baby girl.’ His hand trailed from your waist to your back and back down again.

‘Why thank you. I just happened to be laid out for me by a mysterious gentleman.’

‘Than I have to compliment that particular gentleman,’ he said, pulling away from the position you were in and took your hand, leading you to the table. One of your maids had presented you the food and popped open the bottle of wine.

‘Cheers to the rest of our lives, princess. Thank you for making me the luckiest man alive. I love you.’

‘I love you too, Andres. More than you could ever know.’

.. .. .. .. ..

Berlin Taglist

@nkjktk​ - @michaellangdonenthusiast​ - @hamiltonsofcrap​

[avengerofiron]

landslide || Tony & Zatanna

WHO: Tony Stark ( @avengerofiron ) and Zatanna Zatara ( @mistressofmagic ) WHERE: the Stark mansion in Los Angeles, January 1970 WHEN: a few days before Zatanna and Robbie went to secure the Darkhold WHAT: Tony asked Zatanna to let him talk to his parents one last time. Zatanna obliges. WARNINGS: descriptions and discussions of childhood abuse including physical/emotional abuse and gaslighting, mild violence WORDS: 11k (ish)

ZATANNA: Flipping the photograph over, she looked at the date. It was strange, actually. January. She would have guessed it was closer to Tony’s birthday considering how far along Maria appeared to be in the pictures. She was focusing on the date, picturing it and the location in her mind. Thankfully, whoever had written on the back of this, had jotted down the location as well. Everything Zatanna needed was right on the photograph.

“I love a good excuse to get dressed up,” Zatanna mused, glancing at Tony with a smile on her face. “What do you want to wear? Or I could pick, a quick change before we jump so that we fight right in with this picture.” The last time they had both had actively gotten dressed up had been the gala. And there, they hadn’t been a couple. (Their wedding should have been the next date, but by the pictures, neither of them had dressed for the occasion. And neither of them had been aware of it either.) “What do you think? Should we match?” It should have been a joke. Would have been any other day. But she had already preluded this trip as their honeymoon. Not that traveling through time to meet her in-laws was a traditional way to spend a honeymoon… but nothing about their relationship so far had been traditional.

Zatanna tapped the picture against her hand. “Are you sure about this?” She hadn’t been one to hesitate before, but this had weight. The kind that you got to opt into, not the kind that you had to weather out of some twisted sense of responsibility and duty. “Are you ready for this?”

TONY: Tony couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t been the smartest person in the room. It sounded self absorbed, perhaps, but he’d long since accepted that in the privacy of his own head, he was, through and through, an asshole. (Some would argue he let that side out in public as well far too frequently, though he would disagree.) He bombed through assessments and rejections and brick walls built around what could and couldn’t be done, joined a team full of superheroes who battled aliens and evil robots and who travelled the world in search of mystic weapons. Tony Stark wasn’t just used to navigating around other people’s confusion -- he was used to leading the goddamn charge.

But magic was something else. Zatanna was something else. She was one of few people (maybe even the only person) Tony would admit had something over on him, one of few he was completely in awe of and made only the slightest attempts to hide it.

“I know you do,” Tony said, not even trying to disguise the undertone to his words. He’d already copped to being an avid audience member at any of her shows he’d attended. What use was there in pretending now? “You pick. Just make sure if I’m wearing a tie, it matches your shoes. We need to make it look coherent.” Like we got dressed together, he almost said. Like they were normal, whatever that meant.

They were about to jump through space and time. Normal didn’t even come into it.

“What way does this work?” Tony asked. “Is it the polarity complex? Theory of general relativity? Infinite cylinder? Don’t tell me it’s a black hole, because I’ll have a really bad joke just waiting for that one.” As long as it wasn’t a wormhole (the mere thought had hairs picking up on the back of his neck, suddenly and without warning), Tony was pretty sure he could cope with anything -- but questioning it didn’t look like that. His endless, boundless curiosity could be construed as nervous muttering, a metaphorical pacing that created an uncomfortable edge to the air between them.

He wasn’t nervous. He was invigorated. He was a scientist with an impossible theorem, and the person he trusted most in the world had the solution tucked neatly in her back pocket.

“A thousand percent,” Tony said, reaching to take her hand, a gentle squeeze to affirm what he was saying (nothing to do with that shiver up his spine, or the idea that her warmth was something that could be shared, always). “Do we have to think about the time? Imagine it in our heads? Think about the people? I can do that.” Sometimes it felt like all he ever did was think about his parents -- like some part of him was tangled up in that car at the same time.

ZATANNA: There was an intimacy in his words that they both casually ignored. Or at least, Zatanna casually ignored. Knowing that if she looked directly at it, if she acknowledged that his words meant something — that she felt something when he said them, she'd fall into them and she wasn't sure she'd ever recover. Each word that he spoke had a calculated weight, one that she measured with each phrase, wondering if they were all equally heavy because they were shared in the same sentence, or if there was one out there that would be enough to tip the balance and send her over the edge. (As if she hadn't already slipped. As if she hadn't already taken that step in her heart and was waiting to see if he was falling at the same speed — or simply not at all.)

“I'd say that I'm hinting for you to take me out somewhere nice more, but I'm trying to be subtle." Normally, Zatanna would have gone for a comfort look, dressing in black and easily blending in with the crowd, but that wouldn't work for this. Not in her mind, at least. If they were going to do this, then she wanted them to be stunning — and matching the times would be equally fun.

Zatanna whispered a spell and the area around the two of them light up with a bright, white light. And when the light washed away, their clothes were different. Zatanna was in a wine colored dress with a lace neckline. And Tony's tie? The same shade as her dress. "I know you said my shoes but... I went with black shoes so I matched your tie to my dress. Black is a nice classic look, but you'd match anyone at the party and — can't have that."

And as she had expected, Tony immediately started asking questions. Trying to take apart how this was going to work — and immediately trying to relate it to science. "I..." Zatanna shook her head and went to cup his face, only stopping short and resting her hands on his shoulders instead. "You realize I have no idea what any of those things mean, right? Other than a black hole — and it's not that!"

There was a faint smile on her lips as he kept asking questions, but at this point, she figured he was mostly talking to himself. "It'll be like when I teleport us. It'll be instantaneous. But you'll probably feel a little nauseous but just breathe and it should pass quickly." Her hands dropped to his, taking them in her own hands and gently gripping them.

"Focus on that pictures. The place. The date. Them.” Zatanna closed her eyes and then told Tony to do the same. “Close your eyes and focus on your breathing.” That wasn’t necessary for the spell to work, but she figured that it might help him focus his mind. He had a lot of questions and hearing him try and puzzle out how this would work — it actually felt good. Hearing his thoughts and all his excitement, it felt good.

“I’m going to start now,” she warned, giving him a moment before she started the incantation.

TONY: Tony still remembered pushing his way through a crowd towards the suit, desperately tasking J.A.R.V.I.S. to find a diagnosis, which he did in an instant. A severe anxiety attack. Tony could barely take it in. The A.I. repeated it once, twice, three times, more slowly and patiently on each occasion, and still the super genius couldn’t work out what he was saying. To this day, Tony was unsure why he was so surprised, why he was almost offended. After all, it had always been difficult to ground himself. He’d always disappeared into feeling, always found himself on a cold floor struggling to breathe, a thousand possibilities no matter how mathematically improbable worming their way into his brain.

Zatanna had always been good at it, at him. Despite the lights, the flashing cameras, the scream of a crowd that he associated with the great Zatara, there was a quiet that he was sure few experienced with her standing in front of them, a way she turned his loudest, most persistent thoughts into nothing more than a slightly irritating static in the back of his mind. Her hands were in his, and she was telling him to focus, and all he could think as she closed her eyes and started to recite incomprehensible words were how beautiful she was when she got that little crease between her eyebrows.

When that whoosh went through his stomach, when he felt like the earth was cracking underneath him and re-solidifying within a breath of a moment, Tony was surprised he didn’t find himself standing in the audience of a magic show during intermission, catching sight of lights dancing against dark hair, a stranger who wasn’t so strange after all turning to him with a bright smile.

It was Los Angeles, instead -- a long way from the first time Tony met Zatanna, and a long way from the New York he’d so long associated with his parents. A garden party, buffet tables laden with food, people milling around with champagne flutes and bell bottom jeans. He turned back, blinking a few times fast as he readjusted to the blinding sun, and recognised the house immediately as one of his father’s. “I used to love this place,” he said, immediately, even as nausea briefly rose in his throat (Zatanna wasn’t lying about the effects of time space travel on the body). “Jarvis brought me here all the time. There’s a beach just down there. Two minutes from the house and back. We-”

“Mr. Jarvis!” a familiar voice rose above the crowd, crisp and heavily accented. “*For the love of God, man, leave the flamingo be!”

“Would do, Ms. Carter,” came the reply, “but as you can see, the devil in pink has quite his own idea of where he would like to-”

As he turned to look for the source of the voices, Tony’s breath caught in his chest. Someone else caught his eye instead, someone who was moving through the crowd with a confidence all his own, sunglasses perched on his nose and his hat at a jaunty angle (whiskey held in white knuckles, no ice to water it down).

“Dad.” Tony’s hand went for Zatanna’s, instinctively, and he found he’d never let go -- or perhaps more accurately, she’d never let go. Somehow, she knew what he needed long before he did, most times. (Almost all the time, except for when it came to her.) “You know what? This is a terrible idea. We should go back, right now. Emoh won, emoh won--”

Then Howard was in front of him, because of  course he was. Tony spun around, hands breaking free and eyes widening.

“Uh--” Think, Tony. Think.  “I’m--” A super genius. A man who knew Howard Stark better than almost anyone else in the world, even if he’d never really known him at all. An Avenger, at his core, capable of dealing with missions of grave importance every day ending in y ��� “Eddie? My name’s Eddie, uh … Rhodes. Eddie Rhodes, and my wife--”

It was at that point that it became abundantly clear Howard wasn’t paying attention to Tony tripping over his words in the slightest. Howard tilted his head forward, sunglasses dropping an inch down his nose, and offered a hand to Zatanna. “Pleasure to have someone like you at one of our parties,” he said. “It shows people we have taste after all, even if we’re new on the scene.”

Over his father’s shoulder, Tony vacantly recognised Peggy and Jarvis tackling a flamingo, trying to no avail to place a towel over its eyes. Jarvis came away with a bite wound to the hand. Tony would hear this story many years later, but right now, he couldn’t watch it play out, not with the feeling rising in him now. His hand went around Zee’s waist, squeezing gently.

“My wife, Anna,” he repeated, holding out his other hand to Howard, who begrudgingly looked away. “I’m an engineer, previously with Roxxon.”

Now that got his attention (Tony told himself it was because he wanted Howard to look at him, because he’d always wanted Howard to look at him -- but on this occasion, it felt more like he wanted him to look away from Zatanna than anything. He decided not to think too much about it). Howard’s eyebrows furrowed, his eyes narrowing.

“Roxxon?” he repeated. “I didn’t realise--”

“Formerly Roxxon,” Tony clarified. “I was actually looking at Stark Industries. My talents weren’t exactly appreciated. Asked too many questions, you know? Vita radiation is something of a passion project.”

Howard let out a low hum. “Vita radiation,” he said. “Most people have moved past that.”

“I’m not most people.”

Howard’s eyes flickered back over to Zatanna, and then to Tony. “Let’s get a drink, Rhodes,” he said. “And Mrs. Rhodes, please, feel free to mingle. We have all kinds of desserts on offer -- not that you need anything-”

Tony’s smile tightened once more. “We should talk nuclear,” he said.

ZATANNA: They had been to parties before, but something about being here felt... different and wonderful. Like a new chapter in the adventure they had started nearly ten years ago.  Zatanna, in their early days, hadn't pushed him as hard to believe in magic or to follow her onto adventures like this. Their lives back then had also been remarkably different. But with each step they were taking now, it was together. And it was finally starting to feel like it was together. (She wouldn't say it. Couldn't put it into words — but it finally felt like they were walking towards something in sync with each other rather than walking against the wind.)

It had been no mystery to most of those who knew Tony even if only in passing, that Los Angeles and California had a place in Tony's heart. And even the weight of what they were in the middle of didn't stop Tony from sharing that story again. Mentioning Jarvis (who Zatanna had met briefly... recently) and as if on cue, she heard him in the corner along with Peggy Carter. "Is that a flamingo?" She scarcely got the words out before Tony was muttering backwards after changing his mind, and she squeezed his hand, about to try and calm him for a second time before his father was right before them.

Eddie Rhodes. She didn't blame him for his choice. In this day and age... they couldn't use their real names and chances were, the Rhodes family wouldn't have the same pull they did in their time. (An unfortunate reality that they couldn't change today.) Howard's attention, though, seemed to be fully on her. Tony had withdrawn his hand and he must have seen the look she had shot in his direction, quietly begging him to take her hand back — but it had been no invitation for Howard to try and... flirt? Was that what he was doing? (Whatever it was made her skin crawl. Tony was lucky his mother was already pregnant because she was sure that she was about to end his father's life right now.)

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Stark." Schooling her speech to match that of the lessons she had been taught in boarding school. Of decorum and how a lady should properly talk. No contractions. Never turn your back on them. You can show them the door but you can never shove them out. (And for the first time in her life, those lessons seemed useful. It was ironic that it just happened to be several years in the past.)

Tony, thankfully, swooped in and had an arm around her waist, squeezing her gently and she leaned into him, placing her hand on his side, and tucking her head towards him, just slightly. Pretending that this was just her trying to fit the role of where they were — and that it had nothing to do with how the way he called her his wife. Roxxon. Why did she remember that name? It clearly meant something, enough to pull Howard's attention towards Tony, but... then Vita Radiation. Another strange glance. Nuclear.

(All of that was filtered in between Zatanna realizing that Jarvis’s first name had been Edwin and his wife was Ana and she had not too long ago had been telling him that the way they understood each other had been romantic — this was no place for any of those thoughts or feelings. But here they were, stirring where they shouldn’t.)

The way that Howard was looking at Tony now? She might not have followed the conversation perfectly, but she knew that what Tony was talking about... it couldn't have been what he could realistically know as a stranger. But between being offended by Howard telling her she didn't need desserts and worrying that Tony was about to make a foolish mistake — Zatanna took in an easy breath and pretended. "My husband and I have plans for dessert later, but thank you." Figuring that Howard would take that to mean sex (and part of her wanted him to, just so he knew she had absolutely no interest in him at all) — but in reality, Zatanna was quietly planning what topping she was going to get on a sundae.

"I will give you two some privacy," she said, turning towards Tony and reluctantly pulling her hands away. She knew he needed a moment alone with his father, and he would want one with his mother — but she was nervous leaving him alone. Especially after this. "Darling," she touched his cheek where she would have kissed him as an extra measure to tell Howard to go fuck himself — but she had enough control to know that this wasn't the place — and that wasn't how she would want this to happen. “I will find a way to occupy myself.” Her father was around, by the pictures, and Tony’s mother had to be on grounds some place as well.

Zatanna stepped away from the two men, politely bowing her head before ducking away to another part of the party.

She didn’t get twenty feet away before she made awkward eye contact with her father and immediately bowed her head, turning towards the flamingo — but finding herself greeted with Maria next to her. A hand on her stomach and something... a distant expression on her face.

“Mrs. Stark?” The woman looked at her and it hit Zatanna. It hadn’t happened before that, she knew that the age difference had been there. But it made what Tony said about they could be like his parents... it rang so differently. (How many years, she wondered, separated Howard and Maria? Was it the same twenty that were between Tony and her?)

“What did he say to you?” Maria asked without looking at Zatanna.

“He was talking to my husband. About Roxxon and... I do not understand science in the slightest, please do not make me try to remember.” The word husband pulled a reaction out of Maria though, something like the look of pity, as if she knew what laid ahead for Zatanna. But as quickly as it was there, it had faded. Back to the proper look of a woman who was married and pregnant. No pity to be spared. “Can I ask you something plainly?”

Maria’s brow rose but she looked at Zatanna and, after a long moment, nodded her head. There were a thousand reasons that Maria would be hesitant — the press for one, it was one of many reasons she didn’t talk about her marriage with anyone outside of those she trusted, But also... gossip was a savage machine that came after the best people. “How do you do it?” Zatanna asked. “Marriage. I — Eddie and I have been married only a few months and we have known each other for years but...”

“You don’t hold back, do you?” Maria asked, turning her head as she processed just how plainly Zatanna had started to speak. “Let me ask you a question, equally plain,” she said, not waiting for Zatanna to offer the same permission. “Do you love him?”

“I—”

“It is a simple yes or no answer, Mrs.?”

“Rhodes — Anna, please, just call me Anna.”

“Anna, do you love your husband?”

Zatanna looked across the room towards Tony, knowing he was far out of hearing but quietly wishing that he wasn’t so that she could say this and he could know without having the ceremony of it being a confession. (That wouldn’t have helped. The words, even this far away, were big enough to drown her in.)

“I do,” she confessed, finally.

“That complicates things.” Maria looked at her own husband, a hand running over the bump of her stomach. “Love always complicates things, Anna. It’s easier if you don’t feel anything at all.” Zatanna didn’t have to look deeper to know that Maria was speaking from experience. That love... it was a blade that had cut her, too. “I have no easy answer for you,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Either love will be enough for it won’t be. You and I? We don’t get a say.”

The advice, while deeply appreciated, did nothing for the ache in Zatanna’s heart. That unknown drifting — would it be enough? Or wouldn’t it be? She swallowed, worried that she’d be faced with the dark reality of those options instead of the one she wanted.

“How far along are you?” Changing the subject quickly, not wanting the words to seep too far into her heart. (Scared that they were real and accurate.)

“Close to four months.”

“Only four?” Zatanna asked, looking at Maria and knowing Tony wouldn’t be born until late May but... “Boy or girl? And are they already ten pounds?”

A smile pulled to her lips and Maria shook her head and raised two fingers.

“Two — twins?” That couldn’t be right.

“Twins. Boys.”

It was.

Zatanna pulled herself together. “Congratulations.” They spoke a few minutes more, bonding over the strangest things, but... Zatanna felt oddly comfortable with Maria. Tony had said he couldn’t imagine her pregnant because it never seemed to suit her, and maybe something in the future made her that way — pulled her from motherhood. (Or perhaps, closer to the truth, was that Zatanna was looking at Maria and hoping that she enjoyed this, because it was something she wanted.)

“I should... get back to my husband,” Zatanna said with some reluctancy. Enjoying her conversation with Maria but also worried about Tony. Unsure of what his father might say and what her own father might do if they got properly cornered by them.

“I’ll come with you. Since ours are together.”

Zatanna nodded her head, before moving to walk alongside Maria. “Yes, of course!”

TONY: You look so much like your father. The sentiment had been repeated to him hundreds, perhaps thousands, of times over the past fifty years, in numerous different ways by numerous different people. Jarvis, with nostalgia lingering in every word. Maria, adoration or loathing, depending on the day. Journalists desperate for the next great Stark to take to the stage, to give them something juicy to dig their talons into, weapons contractors who could see dollar signs behind inherited brown eyes, friends who followed through generations. Tony never quite saw it. He only knew his father older, or through newsreels, knew him best with a stiff upper lip and stern expression on his face, or in the slant of hurried writing.

He could see it now, though. He could see it as he looked at his father the same age as he was now, maybe even younger, could picture looking into the mirror as he met his gaze. They had the same silver streaks on the side of their temples, the same squint when they looked at the dinner menu, the same casual swirl of drink in a glass.

Zee said something -- a flamingo, Bernard if Tony remembered correctly -- and then her knuckles were touching against his cheek, delicately, as if there was every chance he would break if she moved too fast. Ironic, perhaps, that she’d treat him as something so gentle when they were standing in front of the man who always called him weak and spineless and a disappointment … and then she was gone, and he was in front of the man he came here to meet, and there was a part of Tony that wanted, desperately, to follow her through the crowd and stay pressed neatly to her side.

He resisted the impulse. They’d have their whole lives, after all (they would, wouldn’t they?) and to chase after her when the entire reason they were here in the first place was to give Tony some form of twisted closure. If he followed her now, he’d have to explain why, and that came with a lot of other things Tony would rather avoid bringing to light, at least here. Maybe anywhere.

“Roxxon,” Howard said, gesturing towards the open bar. Tony followed after him, shifting to put his hands in his pockets as he went. “It’s been a while since I’ve had that name brought up at one of my parties.”

“People afraid you’ll get jittery?” Tony asked. Howard huffed a laugh.

“Quite the opposite,” Howard replied. “Had a few boys in Roxxon, a while back. Never came to me with anything concrete.”

“Apart from locations,” Tony continued. Howard’s eyebrow rose, interest clearly piqued. Tony gestured towards the bar once more. “Drink first?”

“Man after my own heart. Order away.”

Howard Stark had been dead for thirty years, back in their time, and yet Tony could remember his favorite brand of whisky. He could remember that his dad stopped taking ice in it sometime around 1985. He knew what cars he drove, what modifications he made to the gearbox and engine so it sounded just right. He knew what songs he listened to in the workshop, and the business dealings that took his interest. All of these things Tony knew, but he wasn’t sure if that was eidetic memory, his father’s journals that he’d poured over in the aftermath of his death, or desperately clinging to what small snippets of existence his father gave him.

Howard never liked his son. He never loved him. He never said he was great, or invincible, or strong as iron. He never said he was anything at all. Tony could count on one hand the occasions where they spent time down in the workshop, or walked together on a red carpet. Other than that, it was silence and distance.

But this was different.

Tony sat down with a glass of whisky (straight up for himself, on ice for his father), took his offer of a cigar, sat on the periphery of the party and talked. Howard listened with an avid fascination, eyes dancing, a hundred and one questions on his lips as Tony talked about miniaturised arc reactors and how Roxxon was double dipping in the stock market and about the Arena Club and how they’d approached him, too. He talked about raising his company up from the ashes and about cars and boats and motorcycles, about high speed races in Monaco and skydiving in Peru. He found out Howard had done just the same, twenty years back, how he was retired from all that now, how he was settling down and the house he was building out in New York and the plans he had for his company.

Minutes ticked by. It could’ve been hours, for all Tony knew -- he wasn’t paying attention to the milling crowd or changing songs, to Peggy and Jarvis’s last stitch attempts at capturing Bernard the Flamingo or his mom and Zatanna talking. He wasn’t paying attention to anything apart from his dad paying attention to him.

It felt amazing. It felt more than amazing. It felt like flying for the first time, felt like falling from the sky but he knew, for the first time, he’d be caught before he hit the ground. It felt like faith, like a gift.

They settled into companionable silence, Howard’s laughter dying slowly after Tony told some joke about journalists with a bone -- and then his father took another sip of his (third) drink, and looked over at him. “A few months married, then?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, looking back over the crowd towards Zatanna, who was speaking to his mother. His mom. He’d never seen her so young, either. He thought it would make her look less severe, but it didn’t. Maybe it was something to do with the gun she was packing.

Tony’s eyebrows narrowed. Paranoia was one thing, but he was an Avenger. There was definitely a concealed weapon under his mother’s dress, strapped to her thigh. Tony opened his mouth, about to ask or speak or get up, when Howard interrupted.

“I was going to get married, once,” he said. “Before Maria, I mean.”

Tony shifted. “What?”

Howard hummed, swirling the ice around. “Ophelia Stane,” he said. “Met her after the war, summer of 1950. German-American scientist, smartest woman I’ve ever met -- except for Peg, of course.”

“Stane?” Tony repeated. “I thought that was--”

“My business partner, yeah.” Howard took a long gulp, face screwing up slightly at the taste. (Tony wasn’t sure what it said about him that he’d stopped having that reaction a long time ago.) “Lia was in a crash. Car wrapped around a tree. Nothing anyone could do. Her brother Obie, he was there for me after. Pulled me out of a real deep hole, got me back on track. He’s gonna be godfather to my kids, no one else for the job.”

Kids.

“That’s the thing in this world, Eddie,” Howard continued. “People can’t be trusted. Just look at Maria. Everyone looks at Maria, and still, no one sees her for what she is. Guessing you know, though.”

Something clicked into place. “SHIELD,” Tony said. Howard clicked his fingers.

“Bingo,” he said. “One of the best agents we’ve got. Everyone thinks she’s a trophy wife -- everyone thinks I’m the luckiest bastard on the planet to be with her. But we know the truth, right?”

Tony raised an eyebrow.

“About marriage? It’s a farce. That whole idea of one person, forever? Fairytales. You pick the person you’re least likely to kill, and you get your kicks anywhere else you need to. Maria gets that. You’d be better off if you realized that yourself. Sensitivity doesn’t get you anywhere.”

He was talking about that hand on Zatanna’s waist, about the flaring jealousy that rose in Tony’s throat. It was illogical, he knew. The chances of the past version of his father -- married, dead, his dad -- capturing Zee’s attention was nil, and yet …

“My dad taught me that,” Howard said, voice all but underwater.

“Authoritarian?” Tony offered. Howard huffed a laugh.

“Doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Howard said. “He was as fond of the belt as I am of a stiff martini. Still, look what he turned me into? Stark men are made of iron. We’re all raised the same, and we’re better for it.”

All. “Do you-”

“Oh God,” a new voice interrupted. Tony looked up from his drink, right into Maria’s knowing gaze. “There’s two of them.”

Howard rose from his seat, pressing a kiss to Maria’s cheek as he snubbed out the end of his cigar. Tony let his burn between his fingers, gaze flickering to Zee.

“Maria,” Howard said. “You gotta meet Rhodes. Eddie, right?” Tony nodded. “This guy’s a visionary, Maria. Can’t believe we’ve never heard of him before. Worked for Roxxon, can predict the market turn like no one I’ve ever met. You know he’s worked on arc technology? A couple years in, he cracked miniaturisation. He’s got plans for a whole damn building based off the back of it.”

Howard reached for him, then, and Tony flinched long before Howard’s hand squeezed his shoulder, and he forced himself to relax under the touch.

“This man--” Howard continued. “--this man has integrity. He’s gonna go far, I’m telling you. The next braveheart. You know, Eddie, I haven’t seen a man like you since-”

“Rogers,” Maria interjected. Her eyes were narrowed, her hand resting on her stomach.

“Rogers, exactly!” Howard said. He turned back to Tony, squeezing his shoulder again. “If my sons turn out anything like you, I’ll be a lucky man.”

Tony blinked twice. “Sons?”

“Twins,” Maria said. “I was just telling Anna.”

“Arno’s mine,” Howard provided, “and she can have Anthony.”

“Antonio,” Maria corrected, “and I keep trying to tell him, they’re both our ch-”

“Twins.”

His voice must’ve betrayed something. His voice, or his hands which now had a tremor he thought he’d calmed with Zatanna’s fingers brushing against his cheek, or his eyes which were uncovered by sunglasses because he didn’t think to bring them. Supid, to come here without a shield -- though he hadn’t, had he?

He stood up from the deck chair, snubbing the cigar and taking one last, long gulp from his glass before he set it down. “Congratulations,” he said to Maria. “I’m sure it was a surprise.”

Tony held his hand out only slightly from his side, a silent invitation that he knew Zatanna would take because she had a hundred times before. They’d always been tactile, always looked for comfort with a head on their shoulder or buried into a shoulder, but this was something else. This was something deeper, because he was looking at her ring.

And then he was looking at her.

We can be like my parents, he’d said. This doesn’t have to mean anything.

Hell looked different, to different people. Tony never expected to use that word to describe a time when his father’s eyes shone like that talking about him, when he presented him to Maria like a trophy shining on the top shelf, but he was now. There was something turning in his gut, and he wasn’t sure what it was. Time displacement nausea, maybe. Maybe something else.

All he knew was that he wasn’t going to get his answers here, with a crowd looking over to see what had caused the Howard Stark to respond so viscerally. “Will you excuse us?” he asked. “I just remembered we … we have someplace to be.”

“Oh,” Howard said. Maria’s expression only hardened. “You should take my card, at least. We’ll have a great place for you at Stark Industries, or within SHI--”

“We’ll be in touch.”

ZATANNA: Two years, she had spent in other dimensions. Two years, she hadn’t spoken to Tony — not her version of him at least. (This one, she quietly corrected herself. He wasn’t hers.) But that distance had felt like nothing when she came back and stepped into his kitchen. Falling back in with him and been so natural. But this was… it was a different kind of distance. She was walking with Maria, casually talking about anything but her marriage because Maria had hit a sore spot. But she was looking at Tony and thinking about what she had said to Maria. That quiet confession that he’d never hear. All the thoughts — all her feelings, dying on her lips. She could have closed the distance a few months ago and wrapped her arms around him and it would have been fine. And now? Closing that distance only pointed towards her desperation — her desire to be close to him.

And what hurt more, the knowledge that she could do it? Or the knowledge that even if she didn’t, she would get the same reaction from Tony? But as Maria had so bluntly put it, love made things complicated. Just like it made the ache in her heart worse. Just like it made the distance of a few feet feel like an impossible ocean to cross.

It was the same feeling in her chest that made her forget that her father was somewhere inside this party too. The same feeling that made her feel a little warm at the idea of Maria liking her because that was her mother-in-law. Even if she didn’t know it. Even if she didn’t know it was her son standing next to her husband at the bar. (She was wishing now that she hadn’t dressed this up as a long-postponed honeymoon. This was supposed to be Tony getting a chance to see his parents, just a quick trip — not one that was supposed to help guide the blade that would surely carve out her heart.)

Maria and Howard immediately came together and Zatanna lingered at Tony’s side, falling back into her confused state of feelings, somehow jealous that Howard could openly kiss Maria and also furious at Tony for saying that they could be like them. (There was love, it seemed, between them, someplace in their relationship — but their love hadn’t lined up. And Zatanna was thinking, maybe… maybe they would end up just like them. Ships in the night. Almost something to each other. But not quite there.) Howard was singing Tony’s praises and then the word miniaturization came up and Zatanna glanced at Tony, not enough that anyone else would care but enough that she hoped he understood she knew. That was something that Howard wasn’t supposed to know about — none of them were. Tony was supposed to do that years from now in a cave.

“I take it you two had a productive conversation?”

How was she supposed to stop that from impacting the future? That was a clear turn — but Zatanna didn’t get a chance to figure out how to move forward with that before Howard was mentioning the twins.

Zatanna wished she had time to warn him, to ease him into the idea that there was supposed to be two of him. Arno and Anthony. (Antonio, Maria had said.) They were talking names and who got what child and it was… it was light and warm despite the previous conversation that lingered. Love made things complicated, but they had common ground here. But a shadow lingered on the horizon and she and Tony both knew it.

Tony was on his feet and his hand twitched at his side, just barely leaving a gap for her hand, but like a magnet, she snapped into place with his hand. Wrapping her fingers around his hand without question, gently gripping his hand as a reminder, if her touch hadn’t done it, that hopefully the pressure would remind him that he wasn’t alone. Her thumb dragging across the back of his head. Focus on something, anything — just not them —

She couldn’t stop him though. Couldn’t help calm his mind without drawing too much attention to the look in his eyes or the twitch in his hand.

In the corner of her eye, she saw his head turn and she followed suit, catching his gaze for just a moment. Wondering if her worry was as plain as it felt in her chest. If her confession a few minutes earlier was written there too. How much of it could he see? How transparent was she becoming? But those thoughts flickered away. Unimportant. (Irrelevant.)

The conversation ended abruptly, and Tony was ready to run — and she couldn’t blame him. This was a lot more than what they had signed up for. But the expression on Maria’s face, that concerned her. Was it suspicion that they might be spies for another company? Or was it something else that caused her gaze to turn in such a way?

“It was a pleasure to meet both of you,” Zatanna offered, trying to soften the bluntness of Tony’s reply. “I adore the flamingo, by the way.”

Hand in hand, Zatanna pulled Tony towards the exit of the building but instead of going out the door, pulled him into a side room. Someplace that was reasonably private so that they could talk.

There was so much that she wanted to say, about how he had slipped up numerous times and she was certain that he had give up too much to his father. Too many mentions of future technology and how that she had trusted him not to do anything that would disturb the timeline. And yet, he had said so many things that no one should know. Not for a few more decades. But those frustrations quieted as she changed her grip so that she was holding both his arms just below his shoulder.

“Tony. I’m sorry — I didn’t know. Maria told me about it just moments before we came back to talk to you.” She would have warned him if she could. (And she wished she had whispered a spell just to whisper in his ear before they came over to him. But when it came to magic, she didn’t know where the line was with Tony. How much of it she could use on him without asking him? So much of them was still undefined.)

It had been a long time since Zatanna was at a loss for words. Her mouth hanging open as she tried to find something suitable to help him — but what could she offer? A return trip home was likely the answer that he needed, but there was doubt in her heart that she could do transport him in this state without making things worse for him when they came back to where they were supposed to be. (Time travel was a delicate thing, and ripping Tony away from one stressful situation and dropping him into another? That wasn’t helpful. That would just hurt him more.)

This had been a mistake.

Tony was right, the second they stepped out of that portal and he asked her to send them back, she should have. And she should have never offered to send them back here in the first place. But… she knew why she had done it. Why all logic slipped out of her mind and all she was thinking about was what she could give him. Because he had smiled. Genuinely smiled and looked at her like she had been the one to decorate the very sky with stars. As if she was all the magic in the world collected into one person.

She had done it because she wanted to see that smile again. So that he’d keep his eyes on her in that same manner. A foolish choice made out a feeling that blossomed in her chest.

“We can go home,” she assured him. “I just want to make sure you’re okay first.”

“It was you.”

A voice interrupted and Zatanna pulled her hands away from Tony, as if a teenager caught with her boyfriend for the first time — because it was her dad. Standing in the doorway. He was dressed as he always did, like a performer. But by his posture, it was clear that this… this wasn’t a social visit. At least not anymore. His jaw was set, and he was looking between Tony and Zatanna, deciding what he was going to do.

“What was us?”

“Just you,” he said, focusing on Zatanna. She could feel her body stiffen. This wasn’t the man that she remembered from her childhood, and this wasn’t the man she remembered leaving in Hell. This was… her father before her mother. And he seemed to be a different person entirely. “When you cast spells, there are ripples.” Zatanna knew that. Every magician knew that— “And the bigger the spell. The bigger the ripple.” His gaze turned towards Tony. And it clicked, he wasn’t saying this for her benefit, he was saying it so that Tony understood. “Who are you? Where are you from?”

“My name is An—”

“Eht hturt. Won.”

Zatanna inhaled. She had seen her father do this before, he had cast this spell a number of times on other people, just like the one he had used to alter memories — but he had never used it on her. She tried to tell herself that he didn’t know it was her, that if he had known, he would have never crossed that line. But that didn’t stop the sting in her eyes as she opened up her mouth, knowing that it wasn’t choice guiding her words anymore.

“My name is Zatanna Zatara—”

“Ecnelis.”

She bit down on her lip, forcing it to stop quivering while her jaw felt tight — and her lips felt like they had been stitched together. Her gaze hitting the floor and her head dropping. Shame and guilt rippling through her just like the waves of magic that had brought her father to her. But now they were coupled with the feeling that came with being violated. Ripped of her agency — the only thing she could find herself to be grateful for was that her father had stopped her before she had given up Tony’s identity too.

There was a new hesitance there. John was looking at her like he was trying to decide if she was his or if she was his brother’s. (He’d probably blame his brother, ignoring the obvious — ignoring the hurt in her eyes or the way she was slowly breaking under his gaze.)

“Fools, both of you.” John finally spoke up again, not sparing their feelings or wasting any more time. “I’ll clean up your mess. Howard won’t remember a thing. Do I need to alter Maria’s memories as well?” He assumed that Tony had screwed up, and Zatanna didn’t know if she should be pissed that he thought so little of anyone without the Zatara name, or pleased that he’d distort the memories that might have altered the course of history. (She was leaning towards the side of pissed off — even if she knew Tony had dropped the ball there.) “Answer me.”

‘You silenced me.’ Zatanna signed.

“Kaeps.”

Zatanna inhaled deeply again, opening her mouth, and gasping as she tried to find words again. “Maria doesn’t know anything. Howard’s memories might need alterations.” She knew that no matter how she answered, he would have touched on Howard’s memories regardless, at least this way, she could protect Maria from that trauma.

Lifting her gaze, she looked towards Tony, apologizing for what he had seen, what he knew was going to happen now, for all of it — and begging him to come closer to her all in the same glance. Her dad’s head turned at the same time and Zatanna’s attention snapped back to him, stepping between him and Tony. “Leave him alone.”

John’s jaw tightened again, looking down at Zatanna before looking towards Tony once more. “You both need to leave. Now.”

TONY: Zatanna guided him into the house, and for a second Tony wondered if she’d been here before, in any of the numerous universes she’d come across some version of him before. He wondered if there’d been a time when she stood in front of a sixteen year old Tony Stark standing at the bottom of a marble staircase with blooming purple on his cheekbone, wondered if he brushed her off as he’d brushed off everyone else who dared to ask about it (less people than he had always assumed would. People didn’t want to look too closely at the sun, because they knew it would burn. It was the same with this). She pulled him into the kitchen -- one of the kitchens -- the one that wasn’t used by the chefs for events but rather on an everyday basis for breakfast and family dinners, the very place that used to house smashed glass and spilled wine and tears.

Tony looked, instinctively, to the corner. He remembered holding his mother there, her head pressing into his shoulder, her arms wrapped around him. He remembered her promising they would leave. He remembered thinking how, if magic or God existed, she would follow through on that promise. If magic or her God existed, they would’ve been safe. They would’ve been in Sicily. They would’ve been somewhere, anywhere, away from flashing lights and crashing cars and a wine cellar that always went empty long before time.

But God didn’t exist, not that Tony had seen. God didn’t exist, and magic did, but not in the way he’d always hoped. Because Zatanna was capable of bringing him back in time, capable of so many wonders, capable of completely rewriting the rules of the universe as he had once known them, and still, she couldn’t change what had happened here. She couldn’t change what his parents had done, what they failed to do. She couldn’t change what they were fighting, in a marriage that they couldn’t define.

“I know,” Tony said, the second Zatanna started speaking. “How could you know? I didn’t.” He figured that much was obvious from the look that passed his face as soon as his mother said the words, figured that was why she looked at him with narrowed eyes and suspicion tensing her shoulders. “It makes sense, though. It … all of it, it makes sense. You know Mom’s with SHIELD? One of their best agents, he said. I always thought she was … that he dragged her into it. That he killed her. But she knew. When she went out with the … when they moved the serum, they both knew.”

Did that make it better, or worse? Tony couldn’t quite put his finger on it, riding a thousand emotions at once, reaching once again, subconsciously, to touch his fingertips against Zatanna’s, something to ground him.

“I just--” Tony sucked in a breath, pulled his hand back only briefly so he could run it through his hair (his breathing was picking up. If FRIDAY worked in this universe -- she could, if he altered it, he knew that -- she would warn of an impending panic attack. Tony didn’t need the warning. He knew the signs all too well). “My dad was a hero. He changed the world. He ended the war, he recreated the serum, he gave me the element that I needed so I wouldn’t … so palladium wouldn’t keep killing me. He saved my life a hundred times over, and he never even told me where he went. He never said a single thing about SHIELD, about what he sacrificed.”

His father was a hero. His mother was, too. But now, slowly, Tony was beginning to realise something else.

“You know,” Tony continued, and this time he did look away, looked down at their hands or at the ring on her finger or the necklace around her neck, anywhere except for meeting her eyes, “the first person who taught me how to be treated? Dad. I never knew how to … relate to people, in boarding school. I never knew how to be--” Digestible? Easy to swallow, easy to love? “But I knew how to take a punch. I knew I deserved it. And then I got older, and I started…”

Sleeping around. Shooting up in expensive rooms in clubs he couldn’t remember the name of even with an eidetic memory because he’d never cared about where he was or who he was with, so long as his head was swimming and he could be silent, for a moment. He’d wake up the next morning and hate himself, but God, it was worth it for that second. For that instant.

“I’m drunk,” he said, huffing a bitter laugh as he turned to the wall, then back again. He turned in a circle and he didn’t know where to focus, because there were nicks in the wall he’d never seen before and there were wine stains missing in the rug he knew would one day appear. “I’m drunk and I just smoked a cigar, and I fucking hate cigars. And I just -- he said his dad did the same thing. Fond of the belt, he said. And I’m meant to feel bad about that, right? I’m meant to … that’s meant to explain something.”

Tony did feel bad. Even if he could hear Obadiah calling him weak in the back of his head, even if he knew it was a dangerous sentimentality even in the relative safety of his own mind, Tony felt for his father. He mourned for him, was angry at the grandfather he’d never met, at the history that he carried through. But there was something else there, too.

“His dad did the same thing,” Tony said, finally, turning back to meet Zatanna’s gaze, to hold it for a long moment. “His dad did the same thing, and yet he looked me dead in the eye, and he said it made him stronger. He said it turned him to iron. He said … he said it was a good thing. He chose to do that to me, and what he did, it didn’t … it didn’t build character, Zee. It didn’t do a damn thing. It was just--”

Abuse.

The word settled heavy on his tongue, lodged itself deep down in his chest. “I’m gonna be sick,” Tony said, matter of fact, and just as he turned to retrace steps to the bathroom, the door opened and another ghost from the past appeared.

More recent past, but God, Tony couldn’t tell that by looking at him. He’d never seen John this young, never seen him this angry. Never seen how disappointment could look in his eyes, though he was damn used to being looked at like that. (Every person had a unique way of tunnelling in under his skin, making it hurt on the way out.)

We can go home, Zatanna said. Tony was pretty sure John was going to make them, even if they didn’t want to.

(What would that look like? Tony allowed himself a brief moment of fantasy, a second to wonder whether just staying here away from everything, knowing what they knew, being able to change the past and make it better -- they could have a life here. They could have a home and he could kiss her and it would be okay. It would be better than okay, because all the horrors they’d faced, all the pain that happened in his parents’ lives to turn them into what they became … they could change that. The power was in their hands.

But even magic could only go so far.)

“In her defence,” Tony said, beginning to step in front of her as soon as he saw Zatanna’s expression shift, as soon as John turned his attention solely to her, “I asked her to do this. It’s on me more than--”

He wasn’t listening. This was between father and daughter -- or father and future daughter. Father and stranger, at this point in time -- and Zatanna didn’t have experience of that. She’d never looked into her father’s eyes, into half of her, and seen hatred or suspicion reflected back. She’d been loved, since the very first day she lived, since the first breath she took. It was the least she deserved, of course. It was the least any kid deserved, the least Tony was going to give to his. But still, he had to imagine that this hurt even more when she was so used to that love being unconditional, unwavering. Earth-shattering.

Zatanna looked towards him, and Tony didn’t care what John was capable of. He didn’t care if moving closer would shatter whatever existed between them, or if it would alter the time-space continuum, or break something even more than he already had. Zatanna looked at him and she needed him, and he stepped towards her immediately, hand going to hers, squeezing tightly.

“We’ll go,” he said, pulling Zatanna gently towards the door. “We’ll go. Thank you.”

(Thanks for erasing my father’s mind. You think you could make him less of a bastard at the same time, or is hurting me part of the universal plan?)

Tony guided Zatanna out of the house, ducking his head when he caught sight of familiar brunette curls and a well presented man in a three piece suit. He kept his eyes focused almost entirely on the ground, navigating by pavings alone, until he almost collided with a solid mass, forcing him to drop Zatanna’s hand.

“Eddie!” Howard’s voice came again, a bright, brilliant smile coming over his face. “We should grab another drink, speak more about Isodyne.” A casual glance to the side, appraising, and then, “Feel free to bring your wife. Talking business is always more enjoyable with a pleasant view.”

ZATANNA: She was holding her breath. The expression on his face shifted, his eyes moving to certain parts of the room, and she wondered what he was seeing there that she wasn’t. What had happened in this room? (And the more that he talked, the more he detailed his account of what had happened to him — she was scared of what that answer might be.) Her first reaction was to tell him that they could move to another room, but the offer never came. It didn’t matter what room of this house they were in, she was sure each room had their own memories and she wasn’t sure what she’d be unearthing while trying to give him a place where he could decompress before they flickered back to the time they belonged.

“I know you know — I just wish…” She shook her head. “Wishing doesn’t matter here.” Because it didn’t. It didn’t matter if she wanted to soften the blow. Wishing wouldn’t change what had happened. But Maria being a SHIELD agent was also news to her. “She’s… what?” That hadn’t been the impression that she had gotten from Maria when they were on the other side of the party, picking at appetizers, talking about baby names and what marriage meant. But it made sense, with that context in her head, how Maria could be so… practical? Matter of fact? Clinical. She had approached marriage and the subject that Zatanna had asked about with such surgical precision that Zatanna had assumed that it was because she had lived this life for so long. That she and Howard had found what had worked for them and that she was content (if anyone could be that) in the life that she had been given.

But Maria being apart of SHIELD meant exactly what Tony was saying. There was no way that she had gotten into that car that night and not know what had been happening. She wasn’t a clueless victim that had ended up wrapped around a tree because Howard had been drunk and selfish. (Moved the serum. She didn’t know a lot about science, she could barely follow earlier when Tony and Howard had been talking and they hadn’t been using massive words, she simply… didn’t understand. But the serum? She knew about that. She just hadn’t realized that his father had any of it with him the night that he had died.)

She wished that it made things better. That she could reach out to Tony and say that meant that his parents, at some point in their lives, had been partners. But did that matter? Truly? They were both dead in the space that Tony and Zee both existed, and it didn’t change how they lived.

This discovery might have changed things for Tony, but it didn’t change any other part of his story. His breathing was heavy, and she was trying to figure out how to calm him down but knowing that this — this wasn’t the kind of story you told while you were calm. It was the kind that pulled out from your soul and left it bleeding on the floor while you hoped that the person you told it too understood what it meant. How much it hurt — how much of it you still carried with you even if you shared a piece of it with them. So, she didn’t stop him. She let him start exploring that story and tried not to cut him off because she cared and she wanted him to breathe, but she also felt like this was something that he needed to say. And if he needed help carrying it, she’d help him with that too.

His father was a hero in some places. Zatanna could wrap her head around that, but the more that Tony told her, the less she could see him that way. There was no shining light around him, the best thing he had ever done was bring Tony into this world and maybe she could thank him for that element too, but everything he had done to Tony in that time between? Those weren’t the actions of a hero. Howard had been the one who taught Tony that every flaw in his life was his own fault, that the blame of anything and everything fell on his shoulders. It wasn’t Tony’s voice that she was arguing against in text messages, or Tony’s true thoughts that she had been signing at angrily in that bathroom — it had been what Howard taught him to think of himself.

Howard had been the one that had Tony apologizing for existing. For making mistakes. For being human. And the bitterness was full in her mouth as she tried to swallow every nasty thought she had about him. Tony needed to decide how he felt about his father without Zatanna leaving notes in his words, telling him just what she thought of him and what she’d do to him if she ever saw him again — Howard had never hurt her. But the heat in her veins felt the same. It burned just the way as it had when he was looking at her without seeing her. Discounted to nothing more than the trophy wife of a man with a magnificent mind. But that disgust only grew, knowing how he had put his hands on Tony. How he had told Tony about his own incidents with his father.

He worked it out until he said he was going to be sick, and Zatanna was right next to him, a hand on his back, ready to help him track down the nearest bathroom.

But they’d never get that far.

Tony spoke up to defend her but of course, his way of protecting her was hoarding the blame for himself, and she gave him a look. Even in the midst of feeling the pressure of her father, she could spare her husband a glance that reminded him that she hated it when he did that. That they were partners — maybe they weren’t traditionally married, maybe they weren’t the sparkling couple that others might have been, but he didn’t get to pick up all the blame and act like it was his fault. Because it wasn’t. (And him saying it again only reminded her that Howard had done that. Howard had fed that idea into Tony’s head until it was second nature for Tony to decide that it was his fault something had gone wrong.)

Her father’s words — his magic — all of it had stung. And she knew it wasn’t what Tony had experienced, it was just a fraction of that violation. That feeling of trust that was supposed to be there that had shattered in an instant. (He didn’t know, Zatanna told herself. He didn’t know until he had already crossed that line.) But he had crossed it so easily. No hesitation in his spells or in his steps. He wanted answers and he didn’t care how he got them. (Zatanna had been like that once. Sometimes she still was like that.) But that intimidation, that feeling that was sinking into her chest and making her want to puke — that was what Tony had lived with his entire life.

It was easier for her to warp what had happened to her and think about how it had happened to Tony. It was easier to be angry that way instead of scared, instead of hurt. Tony guided them out of the room and out the front, and Zatanna was absently following him. Trying to create a narrative in her mind where what her father did wouldn’t keep hurting her when they went back home. So that she could go to his grave and not think about how he manipulated minds so easily without any care at all. (A truth spell. He had used mind control, a basic form of it but it was still — he shouldn’t have. Not unless he had to. And what had she done to make him think that he had to?)

Outside, Zatanna found herself copying Tony, keeping her head down and focusing on the ground. But then they stopped. They stopped and Tony let go of her hand and her heart dropped — Howard’s voice ripped through the air again, and this time, Zatanna wasn’t standing at Tony’s side with a polite smile on her face, tucking herself under his arm so that it was clear that she was with him.

Instead, she was only a foot away from him, staring at the side of Howard’s face, watching as he looked over her, listening as he called her a pleasant view. But she didn’t hear him, not fully at least. She understood he look he had given her, but all she could think about was what he was going to do to Tony after he was born. How much he was going to hurt him and think that he was teaching Tony something.

“Thank you for the offer,” Zatanna forced out. Howard looked at her, confused briefly, as to why she was the one responding and not Tony. “But we will be declining.” She had only truthfully spoken so that he’d look at her. In a fluid movement, she brought her hand back and punched him square in the nose. His blood was on her knuckles as he stumbled backwards, a hand over his mouth and an expression on his face that suggested maybe she had sobered him up with that hit.

“Oh god,” Zatanna whispered. She shouldn’t have done it — it felt good but she knew she shouldn’t have. Zatanna looked at Tony, an apology to him on the tip of her tongue when a pair of hands came out, grabbing the two of them by the shoulder.

Her father. Once again. And a furious glare, but he didn’t take the time to scold them. Instead, he cast a spell. And when they blinked, they were standing back in the attic of Shadowcrest. Surrounded by dust and boxes, and memories that Zatanna was starting to think were best left unremembered.

[ayashiki-i-i]

Last Friday, I had the absolute joy and privilege to see Be More Chill in London!

(Yes, last Friday, this has been sitting in my drafts for over a week because I couldn’t figure out how to appropriately convey my delight with this show, and also yes, joy and privilege, call me dramatic but I swear to god nothing on this Earth makes me appreciate my life quite as live theatre.)

I have loved this show for a very long time. Not quite since its first Two Rivers Theatre run, but very early on from when it caught the internet’s attention. I was at the start of what was to become a viral sensation, and I was with the show, rooting for it, hoping for it, ever since. I feel like I walked the journey from crossing million hits on Spotify to the Broadway alongside the cast and creators. I felt immensely happy and proud for these people I never met when they announced their off-Broadway return, and I honest to god cried the day they opened on Broadway. Needless to say, I was overjoyed, literally jumping with happiness, when they announced they will stage a production on West End. Or technically off-West End? I’m still very confused how The Other Palace is not West End and Victoria Palace literally around the corner is West End... Anyway. I have not walked into that theatre on Valentine’s Day with low expectations.

And my Mount Everest high expectations were far, far exceeded and shot somewhere into the stratosphere.

I really can’t with words describe how much I loved this show. Joes Iconis and Tracz managed to hit some very special spot with this musical. It’s truly hard to describe, but this show just makes you happy. It makes you involved and interested. And I gotta tell you, I think we hit the press night, because there was a bunch of people (very respectfully) scribbling on their pads and iPads during the show, so this wasn’t an audience primed and geared for this type of musical. And that’s not even counting all the parents chaperoning their teenagers. And I can guarantee you everyone had a great time. During the intermission I went to get a drink and witnessed several conversations between aforementioned parents that all pretty much amounted to “wow, this is actually good!” It’s honestly such a treat to be in an audience that’s genuinely enjoying themselves.

This show is funny, and heartfelt, and charming. So charming. It has somehow a vibe of a really well done high school production, which could maybe sound like a criticism but i swear it isn’t!

I haven’t seen much of the previous productions, except few clips from the Two Rivers bootleg slime tutorial, but I really tried not to watch too much, hoping against hope there will be a revival one day (I try not to watch shows I have a chance of seeing one day. I’m fortunate to have the chance of having the full experience live so I try not to ruin it for myself lol). I gobbled up all the official promo clips and videos from the NYC revival, being super unlucky and managing to plan my New York trip in that small window when BMC just closed Off-Broadway and before it got on Broadway. I haven’t even listened to the Broadway recording, because by the time it came out I knew they’ll be staging a production over here. So i went in quite blind. With all that previous ado, this is how it was:

The book is so good. So so good. Many times when I fall in love with an album, the actual musical doesn’t hold up because the book doesn’t compare (hi, Dear Evan Hansen). But BMC is as engaging and fun between the songs as during them. Tbh I don’t love the changes to the songs they made, but I don’t really hate them either... Now having listened to the Broadway recording they reverted somewhat back to the original album on West End and I’m happy they did, but still. Especially Pitiful Children did not deserve the cuts. But I mean its still mostly the same album and it’s brilliant and fun, and ok, Looser, Geek or Whatever is a bop.

(Although I always kinda liked that Jeremy didn’t have a typical big “hero song” because he keeps mentioning how he isn’t a hero and it was kinda ironic that his own show refused him the hero treatment, but the song is solid.)

This cast is EVERYTHING. I’m sorry all previous casts, I love you and I respect you but i really think the British cast is (so far) the peak? Obviously as I said I don’t have the full picture to compare, but honestly these guys are all so good and I can’t imagine anyone else in these roles, they set the bar so high. Yes, even Michael. Omg I’m so sorry George Salazar! This role is his in a very special way, and I feel blasphemous saying this! But that’s what makes Blake Patrick Anderson so special, because I didn’t think I will ever be able to accept another Micheal than George Salazar. But from the first moment Anderson appears on stage, you don’t think of George Salazar. This right here is a Micheal and that’s it. I think he’s slightly less... Manic, than Salazar, and more caring, but also more stubborn, and nerdy. My friend said after the first act the character’s problem is that he’s a bit too likeable and it’s almost unbelievable he would be a social outcast and she was right. The dude is so damn likeable! So charming, so positive. And then Micheal in the Bathroom hits and omg does it hit. Also Blake Patrick Anderson has a really long name is very pretty. A+ snack. I’m in love. Scott Folan is, uh, I don’t really love him vocally... Ok I liked him until Loser Geek of Whatever. I don’t know, maybe it wasn’t his day. Or maybe that song is just written for Will Roland and no one will ever measure up? Tbh I haven’t seen Roland sing it live so who knows, maybe it is one of those songs that’s hard to perform without yelling a bit. Praying circle for the West End cast album? However Scott Folan’s acting is a masterclass. He’s so awkward in the first act, so sad, but also sweet. Actually I said i didn’t love his singing but when his voice cracks all over in his first few songs it’s superb and also his “Christiiine~” is really beautiful and lovely, so, dunno *shrugs*. And then in the second half he totally sells his confidence and assholer-y and like... They seem like two different jeremys, the squipped and un-squipped one. But ultimately he just gives such good-kid vibes. He seems like the perfect midpoint between Will Connolly’s shy Bambi and Roland’s geeky recluse. This Christine is absolutely feral. Like, you have no idea. Some people commented on the video of I Love Play Rehersal from the rehearsals that this Christine is not chaotic enough, so I’m seriously worried how chaotic Stephenie Hsu was? :D In any case Miracle Chance I thought was perfect, the ideal mixture of quirky but relatable, sweet but strong. Also she is hilarious. I’m pretty sure she got the most laugh out of the audience, not just because the actress’s absolutely perfect comedic timing but also that role is so well written. Like you really can’t get the full idea of this character until you watch the show, you know? It’s very layered, but each layer is easy to get so she makes a really fun character to watch. The Squip is hot. Like so hot. And his costumes are wonderful. And I know I’m not the only one who didn’t love Jason Tam’s accent as Squip and like... I think I know what he was going for but it just doesn’t work for me. This Squip is a lot more like Eric William Morris, just more hot. Oh yeah I mean the dude is fantastic actor too, and his voice is something impressive, but mostly I was just thinking “hot” whenever he was on stage :D James Hameed’s Rich is vocally stunning. By far the best Squip Song I have ever heard. Also he has Pickle Rick tattoo?? It’s fucking brilliant I HATE IT! :D Millie O’Connel is perfect of course. She has such a presence on stage. It was hilarious when she came out after the show, with her hair down and make-up off and said hi and people mostly kinda ignored her cause... She’s really a hurricane on stage and when she dials it down just a notch I really think people don’t connect her to her stage persona :D

(Also like, massive kudos to The Other Palace’s stage door, cause they allow you to just hang around the bar where the cast has to go through to leave the place, so no dirty alleyways stage dooring in rain and cold and possible pickpockets around.)

I really loved the staging, and it’s very small, very minimal, which isn’t something I normally like, so well done! They definitely dialled back from the Broadway (the bean bags are back!) and honestly the minimal props and simple set really suit this show. It adds to that almost-like-a-really-good-school-play charm. But also they have this massive LED screen as the background so they can change and move and animate their backdrop and it’s honestly so impressive. The artwork is so perfectly in line with the show’s aesthetic. And it’s building up and up towards the show’s climax which I thought was pretty subtle and pretty neat creative decision.

Ugh this is so long I didn’t think it would be so long :D But I have one criticism I cannot not mention. And I kinda always had this, but seeing it live it jumps out on me more - I don’t feel Jeremy and Christine :| I mean don’t get me wrong. The actors have amazing chemistry, their added song is the one that I actually really like and it makes sense, there’s so much more meaningful interaction they have in the show than the songs wold suggest. But. It still doesn’t quite sit well. Besides the fact that I don’t think the show’s narrative is about Jeremy getting the girl - that’s not really his character arc. But also, although they’re not incompatible, he gets the girl he doesn’t even really know, and she definitely doesn’t know him. I think I would prefer if they just stayed friends at the end, but if there had to be romantic conclusion... Well, I mean who doesn’t ship boyf friends, but seriously if Michael was a girl I’m pretty sure he’d be the romantic endgame for Jeremy. You know the type, the old friend who was by the protagonists side and believed in him all along? Yeah. But besides that, i was surprised to find I kinda liked Jeremy with Brooke too? I mean they have the same problem as Jeremy and Christine, with not knowing each other and all that, but at least it’s mutual, and they seemed to have a spark. But maybe it’s just because I unexpectedly really, really loved Brooke (she doesn’t have much space on the album and no one ever really talks about her, why does no one really talk about her???). She defies a lot of her archetype, she seems like such a sweet person. I guess I would just like to see more of her, and more depth to her, which a romance with the protagonist would’ve given her.

But tbh the show devotes a lot more time than I thought it would for Christine and Jeremey’s relationship to develop and it isn’t unrealistic, so it ended up being a pretty minor issue, which i though would be a bigger one.

Tl;dr (oh my god why is this so long????) this show is everything I wanted and more. The West End cast is amazing, charming and delightful and each of them is perfectly cast to really embody their character, while giving some fresh outlook on characters I thought I knew very well and filling very big shoes of the original cast I thought couldn’t be replaced. Also I didn’t talk to any of them but they spend a long time hanging out with the fans after the show and seemed genuinely super nice and pleased with the love the show is getting. The book is more than an equal partner to the music I already was in love with (also Joe Iconis was at the show I saw! I didn’t talk to him because I’m me and I will forever regret it!). The Other Palace’s staging and direction is wonderful, and the choreography is impressive and very on brand with the rest of the show, very modern, very electro and robot. I enjoyed every second and the standing ovation at the end was well deserved.

Just to re-affirm how much I loved this show - just few days after seeing it I booked a ticket to go see it again almost immediately lol. So if anyone is seeing it this Wednesday 26th Feb and you can telepathically pick me in the audience come say hello!

(Or like, drop me a message like a normal person if you’re also going alone and want to meet with someone to seem less like a weirdo! :D)

[suddenlysomewherethatsgreen]

Unpopular opinion but it kinda bothers me that Seymour doesn't try to stop Orin until Audrey 2 tells him that he can get him Audrey. Surely Seymour knew Orin had been abusing her so why wait until there was the possibility of dating her to do something?

Out of curiosity and not mocking, what would you have done in that exact situation? Pre musical, everything the same.

I don’t think he waited until he had Audrey ii so he could have a chance to date Audrey. I think he waited until he had Audrey ii so he could actually do something about it.

I’m sorry this ended up being so damn long. I really really am. But here, I’ll break it into two parts:

Part one:

Seymour himself was a victim of abuse since he was a child. So, like Audrey, he has had every ounce of emotional strength, self confidence, determination, and personal authority pounded right out of them. He wasn’t being treated like a person with actual valid feelings or with any sense of authority, so he didn’t feel like he was either. I know that it must have absolutely broke his heart to see his best friend and the girl he loved being smacked on a consistent basis. And this being knocked down himself made it seem impossible for him to have any strength to save her, let alone himself.

But there really wasn’t anything he could have done. Orin was stronger than he was. He didn’t have any money to take Audrey somewhere safe. He couldn’t tell the police because who would believe him? Audrey would have to be on board with that one and I think she was too scared, of Orin and of being without him, to even consider that. He couldn’t ask Mr. Mushnik for help because Mr. Mushnik would have already done what he could or cared to do knowing Audrey was being abused.

And then this plant comes into his life. The plant had the strength he didn’t. And it seemed like an easy way out. And the first way he could actually help. Seymour didn’t seem interested in feeding the plant until he remembered what Orin was like to Audrey. And I’m going to be honest, if given this sort of opportunity in the same shoes as Seymour I would have done the exact same thing if I could. I don’t care about morals, I have names of those who hurt my friends and am ready to go.

It is so so so easy from the outside to watch characters being abused and think “well I would never put up with that”. People have criticized Audrey in the same way for “not just leaving”. And you CAN’T. You just can’t. But this isn’t a rant about Audrey and abusive relationships. That’s a different rant I’ve given.

Intermission

Part two:

I’m going to talk about that song “Now (It’s Just The Gas)” from the play now. I really feel like the lyrics speak for themselves at least to me, but I’m going to break it down anyway.

There’s that line near the beginning that goes: “Just a flicker of pressure right here on the trigger, and Audrey wont have to put up with that pig for another day.” And I feel like that line shows a lot about Seymour’s goal going into this. It’s not like “Now so Orin can be out of the picture and I can finally be with the girl of my dreams”. It’s more like “Now so this pain can finally be over”

He has that one line: “Now, for the girl. Now, for the plant. Now, yes I will but I can’t”. The line “Now, for the girl” could be interpreted as “Now, so I can win the girl”. But the placement of the next line “Now, for the plant” makes me see it differently. Seymour wasn’t trying to win Audrey ii. The line is about something he needs to do for the plant. And so the first line, he needs to do this for Audrey. To help her. At least that’s my interpretation.

And that last line of that verse is “Now yes I will, but I can’t”, Seymour literally is holding a gun in his hands, but he can’t fire. If he’s literally holding a weapon in his hands, having his enemy gas his brain to a state of confusion to make it easier, and has a guaranteed disposal of the body and he still can’t do anything about it, then just imagine how he felt every single day without any of these added variables.

tl;dr He didn’t do anything not because he didn’t want to, because he couldn’t.

I’m sorry this ended up being so long. I really really am. If you got this far and are reading this right now you are awesome.

[commentaryvorg]

Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Part 1.7

Be aware that this is not a blind playthrough! This will contain spoilers for the entire game, regardless of the part of the game I’m commenting on. A major focus of this commentary is to talk about all of the hints and foreshadowing of events that are going to happen and facts that are going to be revealed in the future of the story. It is emphatically not intended for someone experiencing the game for their first time.

Last time, as the first trial began, the narrative continued to ignore the actual reason for Tsumugi’s apparent innocence, everyone generally played catch with the idiot ball to pad things out including several people who deserve better, and I started discussing Kaito’s really-not-that-gendered concept of manliness. Then suspicion fell upon Shuichi, who promptly clammed up in fear of revealing the truth to defend himself, just before we went to the intermission.

Monokuma:  “Try your best to nab the culprit. And believe me, that’s no lie. If I lied, it would shake the game to its very foundation.”

Yeah, you’re definitely not going to do that at the end of this trial, right?

But also, that’s precisely the point: Kokichi’s plan in chapter 5 and Shuichi’s reason for retrying this case in chapter 6 both revolve around the idea that proving Monokuma to have lied would render the entire killing game invalid and force it to end.

Maki is still being the one to drive the conversation in terms of accusing Shuichi. She’s just being pragmatic and has no time for any of this “believing in people” stuff; why would she?

Kokichi:  “Did it ever occur to you that Shuichi could have lied about setting the sensor? Hmmm?”

Kaede:  “A… A lie…?”

Shuichi:  “…”

And yet at the exact time Shuichi was genuinely setting the sensor and not lying about it, Kaede was setting up the camera and turning the flash on and lying about that. That’s probably what Shuichi’s freaking out about right now.

Kokichi’s claim that Shuichi never set up the sensor is so he can argue that Shuichi then used the sensor to set off the receiver in front of Kaede on purpose. But Kokichi doesn’t know the receiver had a power supply, so how does he think Shuichi managed to carry the sensor and the receiver around with him all day and not set it off accidentally just by moving around normally?

Kaede:  (I have to do something! I know for a fact that he’s not the culprit!)

Not an exaggeration!

I enjoy the way the podiums can sometimes move about during these trials, and this debate is one of the biggest reasons for it. Just the way it forces Shuichi into the middle of the circle so that everyone is staring right at him – particularly since Shuichi has such a fear about people looking at him with accusation and hatred in their eyes. This must be especially awful for him right now.

(I particularly like this one shot. Shuichi’s frozen up in the foreground, the background focuses on Ryoma, who’s speaking – but in the background there’s also Kaito, silently freaking out over the possibility that Shuichi did it. Kirumi, who’s much less relevant to anything right now, happens to be completely obscured by Shuichi thanks to the angle used.)

Shuichi:  “………………”

“Say something.”

That bit of white noise there is probably Maki again, being blunt and pragmatic as usual. (It’s fun guessing who the lines of white noise could be from; I’ll be pointing out some of the more relevant ones.)

Kokichi:  “Yeaaah, I mean, whatevs. I made a mistake! Big deal!”

Kiyo:  “You speak as if you knew that from the start… Even I was taken in…”

I can’t decide whether I agree with Kiyo that Kokichi actually knew about the contradiction in his argument from the beginning or not. Making the argument despite knowing it’s wrong is the kind of dick thing he’d do, but also I’m pretty sure that at this point he does think Shuichi did it? There is absolutely no indication that he was aware Kaede was the real culprit until that comes out.

And now Ryoma makes the argument about Shuichi turning the receiver off because he happened to learn that bit of information during the investigation.

This argument they put together here (that Shuichi did set up the sensor, turned the receiver off, murdered Rantaro when he went to the basement and then retrieved the sensor so that he could set off the receiver in front of Kaede to fake the time of death and give himself an alibi) is almost a completely flawless argument. It’s pretty clever how the case manages to do this – create a way in which Shuichi could have plausibly done it so that the only way to defend him is not to prove he didn’t but to force him to prove that Kaede did. And then everyone, even Kaede herself, ends up firmly believing that she did it because the evidence pointing to that is seemingly flawless, even though that’s also not the truth and the real culprit is yet another person that nobody will be aware of until they find new information at the very end of the game.

…I say “almost” completely flawless because there is actually an argument to clear Shuichi’s name without Kaede lying or confessing, namely that they saw the bookcase door closing when they ran into the library, proving that Rantaro had in fact been alive when the receiver went off. Nobody points that out in this trial, but even so, it’s almost a shame that that piece of evidence exists to make this current argument about Shuichi’s potential guilt not truly airtight. The writers presumably only put that bit in as a hint for chapter 6 that Tsumugi had just left, but even then that won’t be necessary to prove that she did it.

Kokichi:  “Nee-heehee… So the Ultimate Detective is the killer. What a plot twist!”

You’re not the only person who wanted that plot twist to happen, either, Kokichi. Good thing the other person who wanted it doesn’t exist anymore and got overwritten by an Ultimate Detective who wouldn’t ever kill anyone.

(Also, man, 53 seasons and none of the writers thought to try and do this plot twist, even though they apparently have a lot of Ultimate Detective characters?)

Kaito:  “Hey, you gonna say anything? We’ll all vote for you if you don’t.”

Kaito’s been interestingly quiet this whole time Shuichi’s been accused. This is the first thing he’s said since the intermission, and it’s not even specifically defending him. I might have expected Kaito’s belief in Shuichi to be strong enough that he’d have tried to defend him, but seemingly not. He’s probably been focused on trying to figure out why Shuichi would clam up when he’s being accused if he really isn’t the culprit – Kaito is always about trying to understand people.

Kaede:  (Why won’t Shuichi say anything? Is there… a reason he won’t say anything? … If that’s the case… then it’s all up to me.)

Kaede has probably figured out here that it’s her fault he won’t say anything, because he’s realised she did it and is terrified of admitting it.

Monokuma is having himself a little puhuhuhuhu in amongst the white noise of the debate where you have to lie. He’s probably excited to find out if Kaede will throw Shuichi under the bus for her own survival or not.

You know, Kaede, your lie would probably be more convincing if you didn’t dramatically yell, “I’ll turn this lie… into the truth!” before starting to tell it.

(Yeah, yeah, obviously she doesn’t actually say that out loud since no-one comments on it, but it still comes across as pretty unintentionally silly.)

Kaede:  “S-Sorry, you guys! I forgot to tell you something important!”

She’s also a really unconvincing liar. Shuichi will be much better at it than her when it’s his turn to lie. Plus, her lie is extra bad because it comes with the huge looming question of why the hell didn’t she mention this ten minutes ago when the receiver was first brought up as proof Shuichi did it.

Aaaa but Shuichi’s look of shock when he sees her lying for him, though. He’s probably been terrified this whole time that she’s secretly a horrible person who’s only pretending to defend him and will eventually sacrifice him to get away with her crime, but the fact that she’s willing to go this far to defend him and put herself at this much risk…!

Kaede:  “C’mon, would I lie to you guys?”

Kaito:  “That’d only screw yourself over. If we mess up, you’re dead too, y’know?”

And yet Kaede knows that this lie is all the more likely to get herself killed and that’s exactly why she’s telling it.

Kiyo:  “Or perhaps… you wanted to cover for Shuichi, even at the cost of your own life.”

Shuichi: ��“…Huh?”

That’s the first sound Shuichi’s made since he was accused. It hasn’t been confirmed yet, but the possibility is occurring to him that Kaede is still the person he believed in!

Keebo:  “I cannot imagine why anyone would risk their life to lie on another’s behalf.”

Kokichi:  “Words from a true heartless robot! Emotions are only for meatbags!”

And yet you have an even harder time comprehending the idea of risking your life for someone else’s sake than anyone else in this room, Kokichi.

Tsumugi:  “Umm… I agree. I sort of can’t believe that Shuichi is the culprit.”

Yeah, of course you don’t, because you want everyone to eventually figure out that Kaede did it. Note how she doesn’t even present a specific reason for thinking this; it’s not like she’s been acting as if she believes in Shuichi especially strongly or anything.

Kaito:  “Yeah, this ain’t right!”

And of course Kaito believes in Shuichi! Even though he wasn’t speaking up to defend Shuichi earlier, he also wasn’t one of the people contributing to the argument against him.

Kaede:  (We can’t vote for Shuichi, because he’s definitely not the culprit. If we vote for him, all hope is lost… I won’t be able to save everyone…)

Again with her utter certainity. But she shouldn’t be so worried – she must know that even if she can’t convince everyone of Shuichi’s innocence with just her lie, all she needs to do is confess, if it comes to it. She should be absolutely certain that no matter how things go, this trial will never end up with everyone else getting executed, because she won’t let that happen. I guess by “save everyone” she means she’s still hoping to catch the mastermind at this point, and this whole accusing Shuichi thing is just an inconvenient detour she’s trying to drag everyone off of.

The way Monokuma twists the key into the keyhole when starting up a Debate Scrum is extremely reminiscent of Gurren Lagann. Given a certain someone in this game who is also extremely reminiscent of a certain character from that anime, I feel like this is probably deliberate.

I like that Gonta makes one of the arguments in the Debate Scrum. He wouldn’t necessarily need to, since there’s only five arguments for eight people on his side, but he’s contributing! He’s not as stupid as he thinks!

I’m playing on the Vita version, and one of the few notable downgrades is that it doesn’t have the voice clips of everybody yelling “This is our answer!” together at the end of a Debate Scrum. Which is a shame; I always thought that was a cool bit, hearing multiple characters work together to convince everyone else of the truth. Debate Scrums are a really cool idea in general to get more of the characters involved.

Kaede:  “And if that happens… Everyone will be executed… I definitely won’t let that happen, even if it costs me my life!”

Man, that statement of Kaede’s is telling. Why would it cost her her own life to prevent everyone being executed, unless…? It can be passed off as misguided protagonist determination and her temporarily forgetting how things work because she’s so worked up, but it’s more than that.

Shuichi:  “Kaede…”

Look at Shuichi finally saying something for the first time since he was accused, and it’s when he hears that Kaede is willing to die for her crime. She is not the horrible backstabber he was afraid she might be; she is still exactly the brave, selfless person he believed in. It’s this that makes him finally able to face the truth.

Kaito:  “Yeah, it’s just like Kaede said! Shuichi ain’t the culprit!”

Gonta:  “Gonta believe in Shuichi, too! Gentlemen always believe in friends!”

Kaito and Gonta are both so good and so full of belief in people.

Even though Shuichi is speaking again and is laying out his arguments that lead to the truth, he’s still doing it in a pretty roundabout way, like he’s trying to put off the moment where he has to accuse Kaede for as long as he can.

Kaede:  (I see… Shuichi knows… The reason why Rantaro noticed the camera was…)

I love just how strongly this hints that Kaede knows everything that happened even better than Shuichi.

Kaede:  (I know this… There’s only one reason the camera’s flash was used…)

And again. She very clearly already knows and is not just figuring things out as Shuichi explains.

Kaede:  “But the culprit didn’t expect the camera to take another picture when the door closed.”

And Kaede can be sure of this statement because she is the culprit. (Although, they’re all only assuming the second picture was when the door closed – I believe it is actually supposed to be when Tsumugi opened it again from the other side.)

Kaito:  “Hey, Kaede…?”

Kaede:  “What is it?”

Kaito:  “Is… something wrong? You’ve been acting… kinda strange.”

Kaede:  “…Strange?”

Kiyo:  “Your last few remarks carry… more conviction than before.”

Look at how Kaito is the first one to notice this! He doesn’t for a moment want to believe that she actually did it, which is why he remains vague about what’s up with her and Kiyo has to be more specific – but still, he noticed, and he brought it up because he wanted to better understand why. Kaito is so perceptive when it comes to people and always trying to understand them better when there’s things that don’t make sense to him.

The fact that Shuichi and not Kaede is designated as number 1 in the screen where you have to accuse people would potentially be extremely spoilery if it weren’t for the fact that this is the first time we see this screen, when you’re about to find out that Shuichi is the true protagonist anyway.

It’s very appropriate how Kaede’s voice clip for accusing someone correctly, given that this is the only time she ever does it, is “No doubt about it”.

Kaede:  (I’m sorry… Shuichi. You stayed silent this whole time because you realized it already, right? But, you can’t do that. It may be the end of me, but I want my wish to… I’m giving it to you, Shuichi. From now on, you’re going to carry on my wish! You’re going to protect everyone!)

Shuichi:  (Kaede… I know what you want me to do. That’s so cruel… It’s cruel, but… I understand. I’ll do it. You can trust me. I won’t let your wish… go ungranted.)

This sequence where they switch protagonists is adorable and gives me feelings every time. I don’t think it’s supposed to be that they’re actually talking to each other or reading each other’s thoughts – they just both understand each other enough that they’re accurately imagining how the other is feeling right now and responding to that in their own inner monologue.

Also, despite the game making you do so as her, Kaede didn’t actually accuse herself. All that was ever said out loud was:

Kaede:  “The culprit of this incident is…”

…

Shuichi:  “…Kaede is the culprit.”

Kaede must have been trusting that Shuichi was finally about to find the courage to face the truth and was waiting for him to say it so that she didn’t have to. By acting like she was about to admit it herself, she made it clear to him that she is completely okay with being found guilty, giving him the final push he needed to do it.

Gonta:  “Kaede… did it?”

Tenko:  “W-Wait, that’s not possible! Right, Kaede!?”

I like that these two are the first ones to speak up to question this. They believe in her!

Kaede:  “Pft… ahahahaha! Just kidding!”

Ryoma:  “Just kidding?”

Kaede:  “Huh? Did you guys really think I’m the culprit? Psh, come on, guys! Like I could!”

And now Kaede has started deliberately playing the villain. She’s given up on her attempts to corner the mastermind, given up on her own life – but she still hasn’t stopped trying to help everyone. She’s doing this, playing the horrible traitor who would hide their crime and try to get away with it, in the hope that it will unite everyone against her, so that despite how awfully things went, they’ll still have a sense of unity and co-operation once this is all over. And of course, she’s doing it to get Shuichi to face his fear of revealing the truth, because she knows that he’s going to need to do that in order to keep saving everyone throughout the rest of this killing game.

Kaede is willingly turning herself into a monster because she’s selflessly fixated on saving everyone else and doesn’t care at all what they think of her so long as they’re all going to be okay. She is so, so good.

Kaede:  “Shuichi’s just joking around. He wanted to lighten up the mood.”

Yes, because that’s totally an in-character thing that Shuichi would do.

Kaito:  “Yeah, how? You and Kaede were together the whole time, weren’t you?”

I also find it interesting that, again, this is the first time Kaito has spoken up since Shuichi accused Kaede. He did not join in earlier when Gonta and Tenko were questioning if she really did this. Kaito was the one who first noticed she was acting strange, after all, so it seems there’s a part of him that didn’t have as much trouble believing it, based on the way she’s acting. Here he’s speaking up not to question the fact that she would do it, but simply how she physically could have done it, because that at least is still very unclear.

Kaede:  “…I was in the classroom, standing watch with Shuichi.”

“Y-You see!?”

Gonta:  “Kaede never saw Rantaro… then how she kill him!?”

“There’s no way!”

These two bits of white noise are absolutely 100% Kaito. Even if Kaede being the culprit makes more sense to him based on her behaviour than he would like to admit, he still doesn’t want to face up to that. So he’s vehemently latching onto the part where it doesn’t seem to be physically possible to avoid having to think about the fact that her behaviour tells a different story. The fact that he’s stuttering in the first statement and the text is shaking in the second one certainly implies that he is not as sure of himself as he is trying to sound.

Tsumugi:  “Hmm… what a mystery.”

Yeah, such a mystery that you definitely don’t know the answer to. And you definitely didn’t write Kaede with a fondness for Rube Goldberg machines precisely so she’d be able to create a mystery like this.

Shuichi:  (If I’m remembering correctly, there was something off about her then… Damn it, how could I not realize it…?)

Because she’s your friend and you trusted her and had absolutely no reason to assume she might have been secretly plotting a murder. Don’t beat yourself up about this, Shuichi.

Ryoma:  “It’s not like it started rollin’ on its own…”

“Rollin’ on its own!?”

Ryoma:  “…and fell off the bookcase onto Rantaro’s head.”

“The hell are you talkin’ about!?”

These white noise lines: also Kaito. Ironic that the part he’s furiously questioning here is the part that turns out to be close to the truth.

Typical of Miu to have made this aerial diagram of the library and not even remotely have it occur to her that maybe there’s something weird about the sloped path of books leading to just above Rantaro’s head.

It’s a little weird for Shuichi to be having flashbacks and the flashbacks still be from Kaede’s perspective. Would have been kind of neat to instead get a different flashback to what Shuichi was thinking at the time. Still, I can see that the reason they did it this way is to let the player look back at those lines from Kaede’s inner monologue that hinted at what was really going on and see them for what they really meant.

Kaede:  “Impressive… You have a really good memory, Shuichi.”

Shuichi is condemning her to death and all she cares about doing is praising his talent and making sure he feels confident in himself. She is so goddamn selfless.

Tsumugi:  “A setup that complicated is almost like a Rube Goldberg machine.”

…are you mentioning this because you heard the part where Kaede talked about Rube Goldberg machines and want to make sure everyone in the audience makes the connection, Tsumugi?

Kiyo:  “Your words and that smile… Is this your admission of guilt?”

Kaito:  “Hold on! Don’t just jump to conclusions! I’ve… still got a lot of questions!”

Even though Kaede looks to be just about willing to admit things, Kaito is not ready to accept this so easily.

Kokichi:  “Nee-heehee… that’s weeeeeird. Why do you sound so desperate?”

Kaito:  “There’s nothing weird about it! There’s just no way I can believe someone like Kaede would be the culprit!”

Kokichi notes that Kaito sounds desperate because he is – there’s obviously a part of him that can tell, from the facts lining up and from Kaede’s behaviour right now, that this is the truth. But even so, his belief in the person Kaede is as someone who would never do something like this still hasn’t been contradicted. She’s acting as though she did it, but she’s not acting as though she wasn’t really that person who always cared about saving everyone. This whole time she’s clearly been trying to help Shuichi through his issues and guide him towards the truth. So it just does not make sense to Kaito, since it hasn’t occurred to him that she could have done this in an attempt to save them all.

Gonta:  “Yeah! Gonta not believe it either!”

Kaede:  “What?”

And look at Kaede being so bewildered by them still believing in and defending her. She’s just a murderer, right? She betrayed them all! They should all hate her!

Kaito:  “Don’t worry, Kaede! I’ll clear your name!”

Kaito knows she did it and that it’s not going to be possible to clear her name. He just doesn’t want to accept it.

Kaito:  “I refuse to believe that Kaede is the culprit! I still have my doubts!”

Himiko:  “What kinda doubts?”

Kaito:  “Doubts about the noise, of course!”

His doubts aren’t really about the noise. They’re about the fact that someone like Kaede would ever do this. But he knows that’s not an acceptable argument in a class trial, so instead he’s latching onto whatever evidence-related thing he can think of. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he hadn’t actually forgotten that the BGM could have masked the noise and is just avoiding mentioning it in the hope that no-one else will and he’ll have an excuse not to face the truth.

Ryoma:  “Eh, some noise ain’t a big deal.”

“Is true!”

Tenko:  “Of course it’s a big deal!”

“Yes! I’m positive!”

Hee, look at Gonta and Kaito’s white noise here fervently insisting that Kaede must be innocent. (Kaito is not positive. He’s just desperately pretending that he is.) Also props to Tenko for being the other most adamant defender of Kaede. It’s a little awkward in her case considering that if Kaede were exactly the same person but happened to be a guy then Tenko wouldn’t be doing this, but at least because Kaede is a girl we get to see Tenko’s good side come through here.

This whole argument about the BGM is also kind of flimsy considering that Kaede didn’t know there was going to be loud music masking the sound of the shot and went ahead with her plan anyway. She was presumably hoping her target wouldn’t realise what the noise meant until it was too late. And hey, maybe Rantaro did actually barely hear the sound over the music and that’s why Kaede’s shot missed.

Kokichi:  “Kaito, are you done now?”

Yeah, all this ridiculous nonsense of Kaito’s about believing in people, none of that makes any sense, right? Not in Kokichi’s worldview.

Kaito:  “D-Damn it…! So… it’s true, then…? You’re saying… Kaede really is the culprit!?”

This, though, is Kaito more or less admitting defeat, now that he has no more arguments he can think of. He still doesn’t want to believe that Kaede is the culprit… but he can accept it.

Kirumi:  “But we should not blame him for that. None of those actions warranted suspicion at the time, so he might not have noticed.”

Shuichi:  “…”

Shuichiiii, listen to Kirumi. Don’t go blaming yourself for this.

Gonta:  “That can’t be… It’s gotta be mistake, right?”

Gonta, like Kaito, still doesn’t want to believe that Kaede could have done something like this.

Kokichi:  “But if all of that is true, then that’s pretty unfortunate… I mean… it’s Kaede, y’know? She kept preaching about working together, and then she goes and kills in cold blood!”

This is Kokichi very transparently trying to force it into people’s heads that obviously you shouldn’t trust anyone ever because even someone like Kaede who talks about working together and being friends would totally turn around and murder someone in cold blood for their own selfish gain.

Shuichi:  “No, something still doesn’t fit.”

Kokichi:  “Hm? What doesn’t fit?”

Shuichi:  “Kaede… wouldn’t do something like that.”

And this is Shuichi giving the big middle finger to Kokichi’s twisted worldview. Because anyone who doesn’t have the world’s biggest unexplained trust issues should be able to tell that obviously precisely because Kaede is the person she is, she would definitely have a better reason for killing someone than just doing it in cold blood.

Tsumugi:  “But you were the one that said she did it, right?”

Shuichi:  “Yes, I did say that. But murder in cold blood is just not in her character… I truly believe that! I believe in her!”

This is not the only time that Shuichi is going to be certain that his closest friend committed murder and yet even more certain that they didn’t do it for selfish reasons!

Kaede:  “But… why? Why do you still believe in me, Shuichi? Why? Tell me why!”

Because you’re still a good person, Kaede! Even if you yourself can’t believe that right now because you messed up and accidentally killed an innocent.

Kaede:  “Are you still looking away from the truth!?”

Not any more. Now you’re the one who’s doing that, Kaede.

Kaede:  “I’m a terrible murderer. I betrayed everyone!”

A couple of lines from the Argument Armament that it’s easy to miss out on if you do too well at it, which is a big shame because they are excellent lines.

Shuichi:  “Kaede wasn’t targeting Rantaro. She was targeting the mastermind. She was trying to end this killing game… She was trying to save us all. Isn’t that right, Kaede?”

Kaede: “…”

This time, Kaede’s response is not the “good job for figuring it out, Shuichi!” that she was doing before. She didn’t care if Shuichi figured this out. It didn’t matter what anyone thought of her, after she’d failed them and done such a horrible thing.

Kaito:  “So… she tried to end the killing game… by killing the mastermind?”

And now I think Kaito can finally properly accept it, because he has a reason that makes sense. Even if he’s still upset and frustrated that she was desperate enough to take such drastic measures, he understands.

Shuichi:  “…But it’s all my fault. Kaede trusted my detective skills. I told her the mastermind might be there… And that’s why she set that trap. It’s all my fault. She trusted my detective work, and I screwed it up!”

Kaede:  “Stop… That’s not true… Please, don’t say it’s your fault… It’ll be harder for me… None of this is your fault! It’s mine! Everything’s my fault!”

Kaede does not want to die worried that Shuichi is going to keep blaming himself and suffering because of her mistake. Her only priority now is making sure that everyone else, especially Shuichi, is going to be okay once she’s gone.

Kaede:  “I want you to reveal everything that happened and convince everyone… And then… I want you to end this. That’s… my final wish.”

It’s… honestly a little awkward that Kaede calls this request for Shuichi to do a Closing Argument her “final wish”. No, it’s not – her final wish is going to be for everyone to end this killing game and get out of here! There isn’t even really a need to convince everyone at this point – even Kaito has been convinced by now. But of course it’s Danganronpa so we have to do a Closing Argument. I guess Kaede’s really just trying to give Shuichi more chance to practice his detective skills, you could argue?

“I want to help… I want to help you grant Kaede’s wish!”

…I haven’t been mentioning any of the tutorial text for obvious reasons, but this line is cute.

It’s amusing how the Completely Ambiguous Culprit Figure has a very distinctive backpack, making it not ambiguous at all. It does make sense to do that, since the backpack is relevant in a couple of panels.

Shuichi:  “We deduced that the mastermind would return there to let Monokuma out.”

No, Shuichi, you deduced that all by yourself. Have some more pride in your deductions! (Not that he would want to in this case because this is the reason Kaede committed murder.)

Shuichi:  “The shot kept rolling, then fell on Rantaro’s head, killing him instantly.”

Nope! For once, this is a Closing Argument being straight-up incorrect.

I appreciate this panel of Ambiguous Culprit Kaede being horrified by her guilt even as she’s thinking she killed the mastermind. We’ll even get to see this again in chapter 6 with it actually having Kaede’s face.

Kirumi:  “We can at least try to trust the Kaede we’ve come to know up to this point.”

Tenko:  “The Kaede we’ve come to know…?”

Kirumi:  “Even if she did commit a crime, what Kaede has said to us is not a lie. She wanted to protect us, and I firmly believe that to be the truth.”

Exactly! Too bad Kokichi’s never going to change his tune despite any of this. Also, this is Kirumi showing a surprising amount of personal feelings for her standards. Perhaps because the focus is on how Kaede has been selflessly trying to protect everyone else, which is something Kirumi can definitely understand.

Ryoma:  “If that was a lie too, it’d be the last straw for me. I’d have nothing left to believe in.”

Aww, Ryoma! He did want to believe in Kaede despite his grim outlook on things. Seems like she made him want to find a reason to live just a little bit.

Kaede:  “You guys are so nice… Even though I betrayed you all…”

Because you have been so nice to them the whole time and you didn’t betray them!

Shuichi:  “No! That’s not true, Kaede! You were trying to save all of—”

Kaede:  “Nice job, Shuichi! I didn’t expect any less!”

Shuichi:  “…What?”

Kaede:  “You were super reliable back there! But you still have a long way to go. You need to be more assertive. If you did that more often, you’d be a pretty cool guy.”

Aaaaa Kaede encouraging and giving advice to Shuichi even when she’s about to die! And it’s definitely not a coincidence that she did this as a way to cut off Shuichi’s attempt to make things about how she’s feeling – her own feelings don’t matter next to everyone else’s, especially now she betrayed them and is about to die. She doesn’t want this to be about her at all.

(This attitude of hers is incredibly similar to a certain someone else I could mention who’s going to be encouraging Shuichi a lot from now on.)

Shuichi:  “Kaede… why? Why are you smiling like that…? Why are you still trying to get me to be brave? Why, Kaede? Why are you thinking about everyone except yourself!? If you had just been less selfless, you wouldn’t have had to murder… Why…? Why do you do that?”

Unfortunately, Shuichi, you are going to have to get used to having friends who are this heartbreakingly selfless. This won’t be the last time.

Kaede:  “…I’m… sorry…”

And of course, the only response Kaede has is to apologise for the fact that her selflessness ended up hurting Shuichi like this.

Monokuma:  “The heart-racing excitement as the blackened and the spotless finally face off!”

…Like hell they’re facing off right now, Monokuma. You wish.

The roulette thing which announces the blackened slows down so much that for a moment it almost looks like it’s stopped on Gonta, who’s just before Kaede. Which probably gives first-time players a feeling of “man it sure would be awful if it really was Gonta; good thing that’s clearly never going to happen”. This same thing also happens in trial 2 with Kaito, who’s right next to Kirumi. I have to wonder if that’s deliberate.

---

[Next post]

[thrandilf]

Plot Relevant Red Ch 6

Find previous chapters on ao3!

When it came to problems, Lucio was pretty good at ignoring them. Now though, the one thing he couldn’t let unfuck itself had found him again.

He snarled and crushed a red beetle on his balcony to powdery bits under his gauntlet. Reports of bizarre deaths and sickness was already reaching the outskirts of Vesuvia. People with red scleras, fever, delirium, and general plague were dying within days of showing symptoms, and all signs pointed to it being highly contagious. Lucio knew the truth, that the beetles spread it far more than any human would to each other, but he couldn’t stop it.

Helpless. That’s what he was.

Lucio’s mind whirled and he paced. The plague would hit the city proper in the next month or two. Valdemar had already been giddily getting ready in the dungeons with sickening glee, while Vlastomil smugly watched Lucio flounder. He had so little time-

He just wanted one more day. One more carefree, glorious day with who he loved. Then he’d do some bargaining.

“Val!” Lucio let himself into the Consul’s office, ignoring the practiced glare Valerius gave him over the rim of a wineglass. Papers were scattered all over his desk along with stacks of correspondence. By the small pot of hot wax suspended over a candle and the government seal sitting by his inkwell, Valerius was answering mail and looked incredibly irritated with every sentence he was reading. Lucio didn’t care. “When you’re done with your work, I want to treat you to a lovely evening. Something grandly romantic.”

Lucio had looked into everything going on in the town that night, and was absolutely certain he could wrench Valerius away from his work.

“Really? Hell of a shame. I might damn well be here all night!” snapped Valerius. He opened his mouth to fight Lucio and rightfully accuse him of laziness, but Lucio wouldn’t have any of it.

“Hey! Listen, it’s important! The theater is putting on a comedy, and the weather is perfect for a carriage ride and a walk with the doggies.” Lucio pulled up a chair and pouted. “I won’t bother you all week, if that’ll make your grumpy heart happy. I just- I want to do normal couple things with you. Have a night out.”

Valerius glanced at his paperwork and Lucio knew his resolve was crumbling. “Maybe I could wrap this up,” he said wearily. Valerius desperately wanted to take any excuse to leave his office and let the mail wait on a Friday night, and he was reluctant to keep working overtime every day. He sighed, resigning his pride to defeat as his heart beat with excitement at getting away from the palace again. “What play?”

Lucio winked. “Lysistrata. Opening night.”

“What?! Why didn’t you just say so?!” Valerius grinned uncharacteristically wide, a rare show of excitement on his face. “I love ancient theater! I’ll be done in half an hour, I’ll meet you out in the gardens. Although-“ Valerius paused, and Lucio worried his surefire ticket to get Valerius on a date had failed. “It would be odd if we went without Nadia.”

Lucio beamed at Valerius with relief. “The more the merrier, right?”

Later that night, he’d eat his own words.

Lucio and Valerius waited by a palace carriage for Nadia to arrive. The low light of dusk made the palace gardens glow with a serene light, but Valerius was having none of it. Valerius checked his pocketwatch again with a scowl. “She always makes me wait.”

“To be fair to my wife, it’s still slightly too early to leave.” Lucio put his hand on the small of Valerius’s back and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Besides, it’s all about the company, yes?”

“Hm. I suppose.” Valerius sighed as he spotted Nadia’s bright evening gown in the distance. “Ah, there she is- and with a companion of her own.”

Lucio stared with disbelief as Nadia held hands with someone as she approached the carriage. He knew this person. He’d known them for years. Lucio couldn’t imagine what Nadia could possibly want with them as he swallowed hard and stood tall, making an effort to appear collected in front of his nemesis.

“Asra.”

Asra gave Lucio a sly smirk under his ethereal strands of white hair, delighting in his surprise. “Lucio.”

Nadia looked between the two, as if she hadn’t heard Lucio very vocally complain about Asra in the past. “Well dear, did you expect me to third wheel all evening? You have your Consul, and I had my magician.”

Lucio squirmed. “You- are you two-“

“I assure you, I can have friends without sleeping with them,” said Nadia cooly. “Asra is a platonic date.”

“Well, I can’t help that my friends are so attractive!” Valerius was already inside the carriage, leaving Lucio to face Asra’s unreadable smirk alone. He decided to put on his public air of courteousness. “Well, what are we waiting for?! All guests are welcome to be generously spoiled by me, no exception! Intermission refreshments are on me!” Lucio held the door open for Nadia and Asra, narrowing his eyes as Asra passed by him with a too sweet smile.

Lucio and Valerius sat across from Nadia and Asra as their gilded carriage started to move. Asra snuggled up under Nadia’s arm and the two leaned close, showing off their casual affection. Lucio tried to mirror Asra and put his arm around Valerius’s shoulders, but Valerius simultaneously shrugged him off to reach for a bottle of wine hidden under his seat. Lucio straightened up, trying to recover. Awkward? Never. “So. Theater. What plays do you like, Asra?”

Asra smiled. “Just good ones, really.” He turned his attention to Nadia’s hairpiece and hummed in silence.

Asra killed the conversation mood as efficiently as the mention of parents during sex. Lucio folded his arms, almost impressed. “Yeah.”

Lucio awkwardly shifted in his seat as Nadia laughed and Valerius drank straight from the bottle. Nadia grinned at Valerius. “Care to share?”

Valerius grudgingly handed the bottle over and Lucio tried to scoot closer again until their thighs touched. Valerius raised his eyebrows at him. “Is there something wrong with your own seat?”

Lucio’s eyes jealously flicked to the two curled up in front of them with the ease of old friends. The awkwardness was almost tangible to him as embarrassment crawled up hid spine. “Yes! I’m freezing cold!”

“It’s summer.” Valerius still let Lucio cuddle up to him, with the indifference of a cat that was too lazy to move from being pet. Valerius casually adjusted himself so his arm was around Lucio’s shoulders, as if he was stretching and not feeding Lucio’s need for attention. Nadia and Asra made a good show of ignoring them and Lucio seethed. Valerius leaned over and kissed his temple, whispering lowly, “It’s unbecoming to let a commoner rile you up.”

Lucio glared at Valerius and then gave Asra and Nadia a neutral look. As much as he wanted to all be friends, since the idea of anyone not liking Lucio was ridiculous- Valerius didn’t appreciate the position Lucio was in. “Nadia, dearest- how did you and Asra meet?”

“Hm?” Nadia sipped more wine and finished the bottle with ease. “You complained about him so much that I had to meet him. Turns out, he’s a talented magician.”

“Let’s call tonight a truce,” suggested Asra. He was still so inscrutable, driving Lucio absolutely mad. “We enjoy the show, and you buy me drinks. Deal?”

Lucio huffed. “I was always gonna show off my hospitality- but deal.”

Valerius, ever in the mood for drama, straightened his position. “What exactly happened between you two?”

Asra laughed. “Harmless pranks is all- Lucio isn’t too upset over them, or I wouldn’t be here.” A purple snake poked out of Asra’s collar and only Valerius reacted, recoiling slightly at her.

Lucio scowled and turned his nose up. “Flipping my cape up over my head? I could’ve fallen!” Valerius chuckled and Lucio glared at him again. “Whose side are you on?!”

“Oh please, Lucio, all this over Nadia’s court magician?” Valerius forcibly relaxed and eyed Asra up and down. “What would life be without pranksters?” Lucio wanted to protest but Valerius, assessing that Asra wasn’t a threat, finally gave in and leaned close to Lucio, unashamed of Lucio’s affection.

The carriage ride was peaceful after that. Vesuvia was still a bustling city at nightfall, lanterns lining the streets for the evening commute home or out for pleasure. It was almost easy to forget Vesuvia’s many problems until they were sharply jostled by a pothole. Valerius made eye contact with Nadia and sighed deeply, taking out a pen and parchment and noting down the location.

“Consider it reported, Nadia.”

They finally arrived to the front of the theater. An attendant opened the carriage door for Nadia as she and Asra got out, beaming and proudly walking in together without waiting up for the other two. Valerius held his head high and waited for Lucio to emerge to formally link their arms together, an air of haughtiness surrounding them. Valerius cordially greeted people as they walked by, occasionally flashing Lucio, and only Lucio, a genuine smile.

Lucio grinned widely as he too greeted guests, waving energetically at commoners as if the event was all his doing. Some people frowned or turned away, but for every put off guest another rushed to him to rain down compliments or praise about Lucio’s famous parties, anxious to catch a glimpse of the most powerful people in the country. Valerius leaned close and murmured, “I always had more respect for the pouting ones- they’re more honest than the suck ups.”

“Oh please- we’re loved!” Lucio ignored the inkling of doubt inside of him that Valerius was right, and that people weren’t happy with him. Lucio beckoned a servant over. “HEY! Go and fetch the most beautiful floral arrangement to send backstage for the performers, on my tab. Bright white.”

“Yessir!”

The servant scrambled away and Valerius nodded approvingly. They crossed the threshold of the theater and the throng of people thinned out in the lobby as everyone split off to find their seats. Asra must’ve done something so he and Nadia were unhindered by the public. Lucio and Valerius found them already settled in the VIP box, with Faust sitting between them on her own seat.

“The snake has a seat?” asked Valerius, nose upturned with disapproval.

Asra gently stroked Faust’s head with his fingers. “Of course! We’re close, but it’s not like you’d watch a play on Lucio’s lap.”

Valerius’s cheeks flared bright red and Lucio chortled. “Hey, that’s a great-“

“No,” groaned Valerius, sulking again as he sat on the end seat. The theater lights were dimming down and Valerius let Lucio hold his hand in the low light and even sneak a kiss as the curtains rose.

Lysistrata was an excellent play in Lucio’s opinion, especially since he was seeing it during a peacetime and had no fear of Valerius getting any ideas. He delighted in hearing Nadia and Valerius both seem to enjoy themselves and chuckle approvingly, and for Asra to be laughing at something that wasn’t him. He was admittedly distracted though, because a particular male ensemble member kept catching his eye. There was something familiar about him, but Lucio couldn’t quite tell why at such a distance.

“Val,” he murmured. Valerius gave him such a glare for talking Lucio could feel it in the dark. “I know one of those old men desperate for sex.”

Valerius snorted and covered his mouth, almost coughing to suppress an ill timed laugh. “He’s an actor. Of course he’s been onstage here.”

“No no no. Like I’ve threatened him before.” Lucio kept watching him, eyes narrowed at the tall man’s legs and dramatic motions. He doubted the cast member was actually old and was just disguised fairly well. He knew he’d have to go backstage after the show and find out who was so agonizingly familiar.

Intermission came and people mingled back out into the lobby for refreshments, Nadia and Valerius practically racing each other to the wine table. Lucio couldn’t drink or eat and let the other three have their fill of small sandwiches and drinks.

“Lucio?” Nadia stood close to him and handed him a glass of champagne. “I thought you’d at least appreciate some bubbles- even if it won’t do anything else for you.”

Lucio blinked, surprise registering on his face. “Oh! Well, I never really thought about trying to just enjoy the bubbles, considering my, ah, diet.” Lucio was getting sick of being a vampire, and he mentally added it to his list of things to deal with later. A red beetle scurried out from under the table and Lucio stomped it, trying to appear nonchalant. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, dear. This has been a lovely night out.” Nadia clinked their glasses together and walked away, making Lucio smile to himself. Asra seemed to be having trouble not giggling, a grin plastered to his face as he helplessly squeaked and leaned on Nadia for support.

Valerius took Nadia’s place at Lucio’s side, having been making his rounds to greet people. “It seems Nadia’s friend can’t hold his alcohol. He had a single glass of champagne. And now look at him.”

Lucio watched with amusement. “A weakness.”

“You two called a truce, remember?” Valerius rolled his eyes fondly. “What grown man has a nemesis anyway?”

“He’d be your nemesis too if you’d known him all this time.”

The remainder of the play had an even more jovial air. Asra especially laughed too loud and tended to snort, a hot rosy blush covering his face. Lucio decided that an Asra not trying to be a murky crystal ball was a definite plus to be around. Valerius was far more relaxed, an arm slung around Lucio’s shoulders making Lucio feel like it was a legitimate date. Nadia seemed equally entertained by the production and her company, watching Asra with soft amusement.

Their entire VIP box joined in the standing ovation at the end of the play, and Lucio grabbed Valerius and dragged them all out into the lobby and by the backstage doors, waiting for the actors to change or get more comfortable. Lucio tapped his foot anxiously, only held back by Valerius’s firm hand.

“It’s rude to barge into a dressing room.”

“I gotta know who that guy is!” exclaimed Lucio. “Also, that servant had better have gotten them a beautiful bundle of flowers.”

The leading ladies and gentleman came out first, thanking the Count and Countess respectively for giant vases of white roses and lavender. Lucio was still distracted, antsy until he finally spotted him. Lucio shoved someone aside and planted himself firmly in front of the actor, now easily recognizable with his auburn curly hair and looming height.

“HEY! You cut my arm off!”

The lobby was silent for a moment. Lucio folded his arms as the man spluttered, words automatically falling from his lips before he even processed who he was talking to. “I saved your goddamn life!”

Lucio grinned widely in the attention of the tense crowd. He chuckled and clapped Julian on the shoulder with his gauntlet. “Everyone, meet the doctor who heroically saved my life on the battlefield, Doctor Jules! What’s a lost limb between friends, hm?”

Nadia raised her eyebrows. “Oh? You’re a doctor?”

Julian blushed. “Oh, yes. I love the stage, thought I’d have a hobby while I set up my practice. Uhhhh, wasn’t sure if I was welcome in the palace after that incident-“

Asra shoved in front of everyone else and beamed widely, cheeks still bright. He snapped his fingers and produced a small bouquet of red roses, presenting them to Julian with a flourish. “They match your hair- and now your face!”

Julian blushed to the tips of his ears. “And- and who do I owe the pleasure? I’m Ilya- or Julian- uh, call me anything you want.”

“Oh I will- Asra, local magician. Why don’t you come back to the palace with Nadia and I?”

“Oh I couldn’t-“

Lucio interrupted. “I insist! Come on everyone, after party at the palace!”

-~-

Having a bunch of rowdy actors drinking and partying in the dining room was peaceful compared to most of Lucio’s parties. He watched Nadia discuss staging and casting with the director, as if she planned on making her own theatrical scripts to rival those that have stood the rest of time. As far as Lucio knew, she could do it. Asra hung around Julian, charming and bright while Julian was so obviously enamored with him that his long gangly limbs seemed to have lost all grace and coordination required to function in society.

“You’re not jealous, are you?” Valerius’s low voice was soft in Lucio’s ear. In their own bubble away from their guests, Valerius was comfortable to hold Lucio’s waist from behind with one hand, a glass of wine poised in the other.

“I’ll admit it- awfully rude of Jules to not crush on me more.”

“Hm.” Valerius kissed the back of Lucio’s neck, bolder than he’d usually be in semi public. “We’ve has such a lovely night. Why don’t we go to bed, and you can remember why you don’t need to be jealous of any flamboyant passerby.”

Lucio turned his head and kissed Valerius lightly. “This might surprise you, but I want to genuinely sleep tonight. I think I remember how.”

“Really?” Valerius downed his wine. “Let’s go, then. I could use some sleep myself.”

Lucio knew he was about to do something stupid. Something risky. It gave him a thrill, as he watched Valerius disrobe and crawl into his bed, looking at Lucio expectantly. Valerius was his. Lucio loved him. He held his partner as protectively as he could with his metal arm shoved under his own pillow, careful to not touch Valerius with it. Mercedes and Melchior happily barked and piled on them, fur warm and comforting as they settled on the bed, cuddling their humans. Valerius dozed off almost instantly, peaceful against Lucio’s chest.

Yes, Lucio loved his small gathering. He pressed his lips to Valerius’s hair certain that he would fix everything.

Valerius could never get the plague. Lucio would make certain of that.

Lucio’s eyes slid closed and with just a bit of concentration, he opened them and found himself in a far away place face to face with a large white goat with black horns and cruel amusement in his eyes.

“Oh Lucio, what else do you possibly think you have to bargain with?”

[zutarawasrobbed]

Ember Island Players: The After Shock (Zutara Week Day One: First Kiss)

Ember Island Players: The After Shock

Rated: T (I think... maybe K+)

ff.net

AO3

Disclaimer: I don’t own Avatar the Last Airbender or any of the characters affiliated with it. If I did Zutara would be Cannon as hell! Summary: Watching the Ember Island players made and impact, some more than others. But for Katara, it made her remember one the most painful days of her life. The Crystal Catacombs.

Looking at the next scene coming up, Katara realizes that watching this play was a big mistake. The scene in question is none other than a reiteration of what happened between the her and Zuko in the crystal catacombs of Ba Sing Se. And while she knows that nothing happened, it definitely wont help the fact that she and Zuko are just starting to become friends and that this was the moment that severed her trust in him to begin with. I can only imagine how they’re going to tell this story. Probably with tears and speeches about trust and honor being broken. She thinks as she sees the actors enter the stage. The actress walks towards the prince as says, “I have to admit Prince Zuko, I really find you attractive!”   Katara almost jumps out of her seat at these words, and she can tell by Zuko’s reaction, that he is in the same boat as her. She makes a point not to look at him. Okay this is definitely not what I expected. Katara continues to watch as Actor Zuko sits dramatically on a rock and the actress portraying her walks closer to him. Oh god. What is going on?!” “You don’t have to make fun of me.” The actor starts. “But I mean it!” the actress sits down with Actor Zuko. “I’ve had eyes for you since the day you first captured me!” Katara looks over to Zuko and the two of them look at each other with their discomfort written all over their faces. She watches as Zuko blushes and Katara knows that she is doing the same and begins to move away from him. She looks down at the performance and realizes that the scene is still going. Why? This is nothing like what happened. Oh no! What is Sokka and Aang gonna think. Oh crap! Aang.Startled, she looks back at the Avatar and sees his eyes are furrowed. “Wait, I thought you were the Avatar’s girl!” Actor Zuko says. Katara sees Aang nod, and realizes that doesn’t sit right with her. I never said I was his. What is he thinking? He’s acting like he owns me? She looks away and back to the stage. Great they’re still going. 

The actress laughs, “The Avatar?” She stands up and walks over the Actor Zuko and continues, “why, he’s like a little brother to me!” She laughs. “I certainly don’t think of him in a romantic way. Besides, how could he ever find out about… this?” Katara watches as Actress her and Actor Zuko embrace and hold hands. This is not what happened. The most I did was touch his scar. Aang came in seconds lat- She looks to Zuko and sees him rubbings the back of his head awkwardly. Looking at him, she remembers what she felt in the cave. She felt a sense of understanding that she never felt with anyone. She felt an unspoken bond form between them. A bond so strong she wanted to do whatever to took make all of his pain go away. It was that bond that made her want to use the spirit water on him and heal his scar. The moment she offered to heal it she felt as if it was an unspoken promise between them, one that cemented their bond. And when she touched his scar, Katara felt those feelings intensify and their bond strengthen. Never before had she felt so close to anyone in her life. It was as if she could feel the pain he went through and everything that was done to him. There were very few times in her life that Katara could ever say that she was truly heartbroken. There was her mothers death, her father leaving to fight the war, and the time the fire prince turned his back on her and crushed their bond as if it was nothing. The moment he attacked her was the moment she felt her heart shatter and her innocence along with it. She no longer felt the same hope she harbored before the incident. She no longer saw the good in everyone. Instead she began searching for the bad, expecting something to go wrong. He not only broke her heart but her ability to trust in people. And that was why she felt such anger in his trying to become part of the group. He acted as if nothing happened and as if she should welcome him with open arms and an open heart. The day he came back her heart lurched and she promised herself she would never make the same mistake twice. She never would allow him to get too close to her again. But, when he offered to help her find her mothers killer, she had to put those promises on hold and let her walls fall down. That was a mistake, because as soon as she did, she was reminded why he and her were so similar and how he was truly the one person who understood her in a way no one else had. When Aang told her to forgive, she was convicted everyone would push her to do so. Zuko didn’t. In fact, he was the only one who stood up for her and criticized Aang for forcing a decision on her. That was one thing Zuko never did, force. He always allowed her to make her own decisions and that was only proven more true when they embarked on their journey. Slowly, she felt their bond begin to grow once again, and she knew it was dangerous, but she couldn’t help but see the effort he put into finding the man who took her mother from her. She couldn’t help the way he made her feel. Over the Course of their mission she felt her heart put itself back together and when she face off against the man who took her mother from her, it was him who stood back and allowed her to make her choice. All of these little things, were huge to her and only strengthen her resolve to finally forgive him. When she hugged him it was not a new chapter in their lives, but a continuation from before. She threw her arms around him in order to tell him “thank you” and “I understand you.” There were so many thing she wanted to say, but her hug said it all… or at least she hoped. But looking into his eyes afterwards, she could see that he understood. Of course he did. Time and time again he proves that he is the only one who understands me. She thinks to herself. It’s with that thought, Katara realizes, nothing happened, but something almost did. ******* Zuko was thanking the spirits that intermission came swiftly after the scene in the crystal catacombs. Just when I was finally getting somewhere with Katara, all of the sudden we see this stupid play and now things are awkward. Zuko realizes that this was a mistake. Seeing this stupid play was a huge mistake! He can handle the misinterpretations of his character, but imbalance with Katara was a whole other thing he could not deal with again. Thinking back at the scene he remembers the way she looked at him when Katara’s actress called him attractive. He could swear he saw her blush. Yeah right Zuko. Why would someone like her ever find you Attractive? Zuko wont lie to himself, seeing that scene did bring back some memories and feelings he forced down a long time ago. To him the moment they shared in the crystal catacombs became his worst and most treasured memory. For one, that was the first time he was ever considered a person and not a traitor, a prince, or someone he wasn’t, he was just… Zuko. But, that was also the day he betrayed the person who not only offered him kindness, but redemption and a new life. It was also the first time he ever let anyone touch his scar and the feeling of her touch was not something he could get out of his head. Even now, he can feel the current of electricity that roared through him when she touched it. He could feel the sudden urge to pull her closer and embrace her so that she would never leave his side. He could feel the first possibility of happiness without his crown and he saw it with her. To be honest, it was that last thought that scared him and pushed him to make the awful decision that haunts him to this day. In that moment he felt time stop and behind closed eyes, he saw her and him watching the night sky holding each other close for warmth while the earth kingdoms breeze washed over them. He saw her smiling at him and kissing his jaw as he pulled her closer to him. He saw the look she gave him and how he leaned into her and was about to kiss her. But, it was at that moment when the avatar came in and disrupted that vision. The intrusion was like a blast of cold water to his dreams. It was that moment when he realized that he could never be what she wanted, never be what she deserved. It was that moment he cursed himself for even considering the possibility of a future with her. It was then, when he cemented his choice to leave. It was just luck that Azula offered him a choice to come back to his old life. But, looking back he also remembered the look of pure hurt she gave him after he turned on her and the Avatar. At the time he truly thought that this was best for her. He would have never harmed her, and he would have never let anyone else harm her. But, the Avatar was another story. It wasn’t until after he and Mai started a relationship that he started having reoccurring dreams about the waterbender and that moment in the cave. And it was after the fourth night, he realized he was in love with her. He can’t lie and say that he didn’t join them so he could be close to her. In fact, just tonight he made sure to sit next to her. But it was not to be possessive, but rather, because she makes him feel a form of warmth and light that he doesn’t feel when he’s not around her. He loves her, even though he has accepted a long time ago, that he can never be with her. “Katara, did you really mean what you said in there?” Hearing this, causes Zuko to free himself from his thoughts, and decides to walk towards who he assumes is the Avatar’s voice. “In where? What are you talking about?” He stops when he hears her voice and decides to stay hidden. Katara probably doesn’t want an audience. “On stage, when you said I was just like a … brother to you, and you didn’t have feelings for me.” “I didn’t say that. An actor said that.” “But it’s true, isn’t it? We kissed at the Invasion, and I thought we were gonna be together. But we’re not.” Zuko slumps at these words. They kissed? Of course they kissed you idiot, it’s not like this should surprise you! “Aang, I don’t know” Zuko jerks up at the response. Wait what? “Why don’t you know?” “Because, we’re in the middle of a war, and, we have other things to worry about. This isn’t the right time.” “Well, when is the right time?” “Aang, I’m sorry, but right now I’m just a little confused.” Everything goes quiet, until Zuko hears a gasp from Katara. “I just said I was confused!” Hearing the tone of Katara’s voice forces him to reveal himself, “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Zuko can see Aang glaring at him, “It’s him isn’t it?” Zuko needs to take a step back, “What?” “In they play! Something happened in the cave! I remember what I saw.” Zuko hears Katara take a sharp intake of breath. But that’s all it takes for his control to break. “You don’t know what you saw! Nothing happened!” “Maybe not. But would your answers be the same if I hadn’t entered at that exact moment?” Zuko looks back at Katara unsure of what to say. And Katara looks at him with the same expression. “That’s what I thought.” Zuko looks at Katara with tears about to spill from her eyes and grabs Aang’s arm. “Hey! you don’t get to make assumptions and just assume you can get away with what you just did.” “What did I do? Huh? I kissed her? How is that wrong?” He kissed her? She just said she was confused. That son of a- Unable to control his reactions any longer, Zuko tightens his grasp on the boy, “what you did was kiss a girl without her consent. You pressured her to answer your feelings and when she said she was confused, you didn’t accept that answer so you took advantage of her confusion to tried and manipulate her by forcing yourself on her. And now you’re trying to come up with reasons that she doesn’t feel the way you want her to because it feels better to blame someone else rather than blaming yourself.” He lets go of his arm, “that’s what you did.” He leans in and whispers low enough so that only they can hear, “And I promise you, that if you ever lay a hand on her without her permission again, I will not hesitate. Avatar or not, I will not hesitate to kick your ass.”   Aang looks at Zuko with alarm and a hint of fear in his eyes before running back inside the playhouse. Zuko sighs, but quickly turns to see a crying Katara clutching herself to her knees. Zuko walks over to her and sits by her side. “Hey. It’s gonna be okay.” “No! it’s not!” She screams in his face before grasping his cloak and burying her face in it. “I’m sorry… I just- I don’t know what to do.” She looks up at him expectantly. Seeing her shiver he opens his cloak to offer it to her, but before he can get it off, she wraps her arms around him and buries her face in his chest. He sighs. She’s only hugged him once before, and that was the day she told Aang she would never forgive her mothers killer. He remembers that day because her touch reminded him of the vision he had in the catacombs. He also remembers that day because that was the day she forgave him. Instinctively he warps his arms around her. “Yes it will.” “And what if he’s right?” That makes him jerk back. “What?” He catches his breath before continuing. “Right about what?” He sees her blush. “What if I am confused because of… Well… Because of you?” He gasps. Oh. My. God. This is not what I thought she was going to say. Don’t get your hopes up it’s not li- “I mean it makes sense. After the invasion something’s changed and I couldn’t put my finger on it, and then he asked if it was you and I guess the only thing that has changed was you. Now, I don’t know what that means necessarily. I’m not saying I’m in love with you or anything. Or that I even like you… Like that! of course I like you, but I’m not sure if it’s as more than a friend or not.” She gasps. “Wait! I mean. Ugh! I’m sorry forget I said anyth-.” Zuko acts on instinct and grabs her wrists and looks her in the eyes. “What if I can’t?” What am I doing? Am I crazy? He watches as her eyes grow wide before she shakes her head. “Are you saying-?” “I don’t know what I’m saying honestly.” He blushes and looks away embarrassed. “Th-then, why don’t we just say how we feel right now? In this moment?” Looking back at her face he sees a blush on her face and decides it’s now or never. “Right now I feel warm… But not in just a physical way. But somewhere deeper like my chest, like my soul. I feel scared and as if I’m running a marathon. But I also feel happy. Like I’m meant to be here, with you.” He watches her eyes go wide and moves closer to her. Don’t give up now! “But, it’s not just now. Every time I’m near you my heart beats faster and my days feel brighter. It’s like you’re the sun, because you make me feel powerful. You make me feel wanted and accepted.” He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and breathes in. “You make me feel loved.” “Zuko… I…I don’t know what to say.” He looks at her and smiles “you don’t have to say anything. Just know that this is how I feel.” He caresses her face, “I know you’re confused. And I don’t want to make you do or say anything you don’t want so… Please, just know I’m willing to wait for whatever you deci-” “Kiss me!” He removes his hand and looks at her shocked. “What?” She’s blushing, “I-I’m sorry! That was sudden! It just came out!” She continues rambling, “I said to say how we feel. And I-I feel like I want you to-” Zuko grabs her hand and pulls her closer. Looking in her eyes he can see a fire that he knows all to well, because he’s sure that his eyes are reflecting the same burning as hers. He takes a breath. “Is this what you want?” He watches her reactions and sees her nod in confirmation. Gently he removes his hand and cups her face. Looking in her eyes he leans in and starts closing the distance between them. He watches her do the same until their foreheads are touching. He stifles a gasp as she moves her hands from her sides to his hips. He closes his eyes and feels her lips touch his. It’s slow and timid. But then he returns the kiss and pulls her closer to him. He moves one hand on the small of her back and the other in her hair as he deepens the kiss. He feels her hands move from his hips, up his sides to around his neck. Zuko gently presses her closer to him, and opens his mouth to allow his tongue to ask her lips for entrance. She accepts, and their tongues start caressing each other. He feels her grips his hair tighter, and he moans. He breaks the kiss, catching his breath before putting his forehead against hers. “I love you.” He says before cupping her face and kissing her again. He feels her hands move from around his neck to grasp his cloak, pulling him closer to her. This time it’s her who breaks the kiss. “I think… I love you too.” She whispers in his ear before planting kisses along the burnt side of his face. “I really do.” ******* Katara tries to hide the blush on her face as she enters the theatre with Zuko close behind her. She sees the way he’s grinning and know that if he doesn’t tone it down, there’s no way they will be able to keep their newly established relationship secret for long. Looking back at him she sees his smile grow wider and she smiles back at him. Why did I have to fall in love with such a huge dork. “Zuko? You know if you don’t stop smiling, people are going to get suspicious, right?” She sees him look confused before he smiles and opens his mouth to speak. “I’m sorry I can’t help that I’m happy. It’s not everyday that girl I love says she loves me too.” Katara sighs with a smile before taking his hand. “I’m happy too, but do you really want Sokka to find out about us?” Zuko stills. That did it. Katara thinks to herself. She releases his hand and walks back to their seats. Watching to make sure Zuko comes back a little later than she does. Luckily he does and Katara takes sigh of relief that his facial expression looks neutral… That is until he catches her looking at him and his face lights up with the same dopey grin from earlier. Shit… “Hey Zuko? Whats with the face?” Katara stills as she hears her brothers voice. She looks up at him and realizes he’s looking between her and Zuko. Shit! “Why does my sister have marks on her neck?” Katara watches his face as he puts the pieces together. She braces herself. 3…2…1 “Is there a bat on the loose! Everybody run there’s a bat on the loose biting people!” Well that’s not what I expected. Katara doesn’t need to look to know the entire crowd and actors are looking at their group. She can hear the commotion below. She analyzes the scene before her. Zuko looks annoyed as Sokka starts grabbing Zuko telling him to “run for his life”. Aang looks shocked, but Toph seems to be distracting him enough by punching him in the arm and laughing. Katara decides this is the time she should intervene before Sokka reveals themselves to be the real team Avatar. She stomps over to her brother pushing him back before grabbing Zuko by his cloak and pulling his face down to her kisses him hard. Everything stops. She can feel everybody’s eyes on her and Zuko. She can also feel Zuko’s shock as he hasn’t moved yet. But the shock quickly passes as he almost immediately embraces her and pulls her closer. Feeling Zuko’s arms wrap around her is something she could feel for the rest of her life. It’s this thought that makes her realize… She breaks the kiss before saying, “I love you.” Moving away from his embrace she sees the shocked expressions of all her friends… All of her friends except Toph who is smiling widely that screams “I told you so.” Katara hears Zuko cough embarrassed. Zuko starts, “So uh… About that-”   “YOU MADE OUT WITH MY SISTER! I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” ******* One Year Later “Zuko do we really need to se this play again. It was terrible the last time we saw it!” Katara says as her boyfriend drags her to their seats. “Shhh. It’s starting.” Seeing the excited look in Zuko’s face, she sighs in defeat as she watches the “new and improved", boy in the iceberg. Everything is the same as before, only this time the characters seem more like the actual people themselves. Especially actress Katara and actor Zuko, Which is especially pleasing to Katara as she didn’t have to see her be portrayed as a hopeful crybaby as second time. Zuko had to go to the bathroom after the last scene with the Gaang meeting Toph. And he still has yet to return. I told him not to get the extra spicy veggies. The Crystal catacomb scene is starting, but Katara can’t help but think that something is different this time. Is it just me or does actor Zuko look more life li… NO! “I have to admit Prince Zuko, I really find you attractive!” “I don’t blame you! But I believe that there is only one woman that I wish to impress, and she is not here. But in the audience.” Zuko says on stage looking up to the box where his girlfriend is staring slack jawed at him. Actress Katara continues, “Is that so? She must be a very lucky lady. is it the fair lady with striking blue eyes?” Zuko looks up and points to her. “Yes it is.” Oh god… Why is he doing this?   “Katara if you would please come down here, I have something important to ask you!” The waterbender looks at the firebender in shock before walking reluctantly down to meet him. Walking slowly to the center of the stage she hears the crowd gasp in surprise. Zuko meets her in the middle and starts speaking, “Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, It was this particular scene that brought us together exactly one year ago today. However, it was the real events that this scene was inspired by that made me fall in love with you.” He kneels down in front of her. “I never told you this, but you were the first person I ever let touch my scar. However, I also never told you that it was the moment you did when I received a vision for the future. It was one of just the two of us looking out at the stars as I held you close to me. It only lasted a moment, but it was in that moment that I realized what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, and who I wanted to spend it with.” He pauses before taking out something from his robe. “Which is why I am here, on my knees asking you to become my partner in life and love for as long as we both shall live, and beyond… Do you accept?” Katara looks at the necklace in his hand and sees it is the same as her mothers necklace except there is a separate stone underneath carved with the sun and the moon intertwined together. She looks back up at Zuko with tears in her eyes and says, “I do.” As soon as she says those words, she sees Zuko take a breath and hears the crowd going wild. He stands up and pulls her close. “I love you.” Katara smiles, “I love you too.” And she kisses him. THE END.

@zutaraweek

[tothelasthoursofmylife]

Intermission/Bridge: The Reaper, Hosting a Party

“It is time to fill a few gaps.”

Somewhere, England, United Kingdom – June 1848

  ~Cedric~

 Weeks passed without neither Cloudia nor I reaching out to each other. I supposed she must still be recovering, and I didn’t want to bother her during that time. Also, the things I had learned from Cecelia and Barrington kept bothering me – and to distract myself, I threw myself into work. I diligently collected every soul I had to collect and even offered others to do their shifts for them.

And then, after over a month of neither seeing nor talking to Cloudia, she called me to her manor.

  ***

  Countryside, England, United Kingdom – June 1848

 Cedric knocked against the manor door, and a while later, Newman opened. “Welcome, Your Grace,” he greeted Cedric with a short bow. “Lady Cloudia and Marchioness Williams are waiting for you in the pavilion.”

“Thank you for telling me, Alfred,” Cedric said, stepping inside. Newman closed the door behind him.

“How are you?” Cedric asked on their way through the manor to the garden.

“I am doing well,” said Newman. “I greatly appreciate your concern. How have you been faring, Your Grace?”

“I’ve been fine as well,” Cedric said, craning his head to look at Newman, huge as he was. “Uh, is something bothering you, Alfred?” he asked after seeing the butler’s expression. “You seem to want to say something: Just go ahead; I’m sure it will be fine.”

Newman bent down his head. “I do not intend to appear to be prying; however, I cannot help but wonder if something strained your relationship with Lady Cloudia? Your visits have become very sporadic over the last few months, and I was afraid that something might have occurred between you and Lady Cloudia – especially, considering that you have not at all visited or written to her in the last month…” he said, visibly uneasy.

Cedric smiled at him. “You don’t have to worry about us, Alfred: It’s just that the Countess was still recovering from the events in the Witch’s Castle, and I didn’t want to disturb her during that time. I also was quite busy myself and couldn’t find the time to come.”

“This is indeed a relief,” said Newman, leading him out of the manor and through the garden. “Lady Cloudia seems to thoroughly enjoy your presence – and you seem to enjoy hers as well.” He lowered his voice. “Lately, she is rather inconsolable for reasons she does not want to disclose to anyone. Your Grace, I do not have the intention to decide what you wish to do and what not, but, taking into account the circumstance that Lady Cloudia appears to be significantly more cheerful after a meeting with you…”

“I understand; I will do my best,” Cedric cut him off when they got too close to the pavilion. “And I am sorry for interrupting you, Alfred,” added Cedric, lowering his voice.

“I understand why you did so,” Newman said, glimpsing at the pavilion. “Lady Cloudia, Marchioness Williams – His Grace has arrived.”

“Thank you for bringing him here, Newman,” said Cloudia. “You are dismissed.”

Newman bowed before he returned to the manor, and Cedric walked up the stairs to join Cloudia and Cecelia at the table.

“How are you, Countess?” he asked, sitting down and taking a piece of raspberry cake from the tray.

“I am fine,” Cloudia said. To his dismay, she didn’t even bother to try to expand the conversation; instead, she just poured herself more tea and continued eating her cake. She looked normal again, but there was something worryingly lethargic about her.

  Something was indeed wrong with her. I had to get to the bottom of this.

  Cedric opened his mouth to say something, but Cecelia spoke first, cutting him off. “Not-Kristopher, did Cloudia tell you why you are here today?”

“No, she didn’t tell me anything – do I have to be afraid?”

She laughed. “Maybe. So, do you remember when you became a Duke?”

“Sometime last year? In January?” said Cedric.

“Exactly: You have been a Duke for about one and a half year now and you still haven’t done something every proper noble does all the time. For quite a while now, people are wondering why you still haven’t done anything, Not-Kristopher.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I am, of course, talking about throwing a party!” Cecelia said, shaking her head. “Cloudia, he sure is a bit slow.”

His eyes widened. “I should throw a party?”

“Exactly, Bright Spark, dear.”

“I cannot possibly throw a party. I…” …do not even have a place where I could host one! Cedric had wanted to continue but stopped himself in the last second. And right afterwards, he heard Cloudia’s voice in his head.

Don’t worry. You have a place where you can host a party: Wallace Underwood was an actual person, do you remember? An actual person with an actual manor house – a manor which I secretly purchased one year ago. You owe me a lot of money, Undertaker.

Cedric brushed over his skull pendant as secretly as possible. Now, I know why I don’t get paid!

“I don’t even know how to organise one,” he finished his sentence.

Cecelia rolled with her eyes. “Not-Kristopher, do you honestly believe that we do not know this? I am here for the very reason to help you with the party! I love hosting parties – all the things you can find out at one! However, it is extraordinarily annoying to make sure that nobody goes into rooms they aren’t supposed to enter. And the clean-up afterwards! Gruesome!”

“And why doesn’t the Countess help me?” Cedric wanted to know, looking at Cloudia who ignored him.

“Cloudia is busy,” Cecelia said and patted his hand. “Not-Kristopher, it will be marvellous! I’ve already sent out the invitations; we have today and tomorrow to plan and arrange everything.”

Cedric withdrew his hand and stared at her. “You have already sent out the invitations, and we have one and a half day to finish everything?! Are you insane?! Who did you even invite?!”

“Well, if you excuse me, I have work to do,” Cloudia said, standing up and leaving the pavilion.

“What? No!” Cedric exclaimed. He wanted to follow her, but Cecelia held him back. “Wait, Countess! Don’t leave me alone with her!” he called after her, but Cloudia just kept walking to the manor.

  Why, Cloudia, why?

  Sighing in defeat, Cedric fell back into his chair. “So, where do we start?”

  ***

  The last days had passed in a blur; I had no recollection of them beyond “Cecelia dragged me from one place to another and occasionally made me pick stuff.” Now, I was standing in the ballroom of a castle-like manor house which I had never seen before, while I was surrounded by people who I had never seen before. And again, I had absolutely no idea how I got here. Did Cecelia drug me and throw me into the next best hansom cab she could find? Was this how I got here? Was this how Cloudia felt? Speaking of Cloudia – I had greeted hundreds of people, had smiled at them, had briefly conversed with them, but, so far, I had not seen anyone I actually knew. Did Cecelia even invite anyone I knew? Did she invite Cloudia?

And if she did – where in the world was Cloudia? Would she appear if I promised that I would never abandon her again whenever she dragged me to a party?

  “Duke Underwood?” said someone next to Cedric and gently touched his arm. Surprised, Cedric turned around and looked right into the gently smiling, familiar face of Countess Cathleen Milne. She was just like he remembered her: petite, lovely, and emitting radiance. It had always irritated him a bit that such a person was related to Cloudia.

“You look lost, are you all right?” Cathleen asked.

“I am so glad to see you here,” blurted it out of Cedric.

She chuckled softly. “I am also very glad to meet you again, Duke Underwood. It has been such a long time. How are you?”

“I am fine,” he said. “I cannot believe that it has been over a year since we last saw each other, Coun… uh… Lady Cathleen.”

  I already called Cloudia “Countess,” and, of course, she and Cathleen held the same title, but it was still odd to refer to Cathleen as such as well.

  “Please, just call me Cathleen,” she said.

“Well, then, please call me Kristopher,” Cedric said. “What I’ve been meaning to ask was: How were you doing in the time we have not seen each other? How are you doing?”

“Thank you for asking. August and I have been doing just fine in the last year, and I wished I could say that about now as well. You have to know that August is rather passionate when it comes to hunting, and he rides out with his friends fairly often; but the last time he went out, he injured himself – which is the reason why I came here all on my own. August is terribly sorry that he cannot come and asked me to congratulate you on your first hosted party in his stead.” She looked around. “You did a splendid job, Kristopher.”

“I had a helping hand,” Cedric admitted.

Cathleen smiled. “I know, but that does not mean that you did nothing and that I cannot compliment you. Furthermore, I have seen how you are presenting yourself as the host so far, and I truly think that you are doing wonderfully. You cannot imagine how nervous I was when I hosted my first party as August’s wife – even if he was always by my side. You, however, manage to do all this masterfully even without Cloudia at your side. I am in awe.”

“You really do not have to flatter me that much.”

“I am not flattering you – I am solely stating the truth,” she said, and Cedric couldn’t help but smile while shaking his head.

“Speaking of the Countess – have you seen her? Is she here?” he asked.

“I am afraid she cannot come; she is incredibly busy right now,” Cathleen told him sorrowfully. “I know that Cloudia would have loved to come to support you.”

“You think so? Because I don’t. The Countess doesn’t want to speak to me for some reason. I don’t even know what I did to upset her. I couldn’t even try talking to her because she made me host this party. And even if she wasn’t mad at me, she wouldn’t have come anyway because she hates social gatherings and only attends as few as possible.”

“Kristopher, you are mistaken: Cloudia is not mad at you. Work is currently occupying her – and so does something else which she refuses to entrust to anyone. Whatever it is, it has nothing to do with you or anything you did or did not do. And I know that she would have loved to come if the circumstances were different because we were talking about the party yesterday.

“Kristopher, if I dare to say so, I am rather adept when it comes to detecting lies. I have a younger sister and fourteen cousins. Growing up, it was always I who ended conflicts and separated the lies from the truth to come to fair conclusions when one party accused the other to have done something. I know when people are lying – especially when my sister or cousins are lying. And when Cloudia talked about how she would never want to come to your party to support you because she does not care, I knew that she was lying. Cloudia’s Aristocrats of Evil taught her how to conceal her more prominent tell-tale signs when she is lying, but I can still detect if she is telling the truth or not. And this time, because she is so focused on her work and because something else occupies her mind, she even forgot to properly conceal one of her tell-tale signs.” Cathleen smiled at him. “I am certain that she would want to be here with you in this very moment instead of at Phantomhive Manor working.

“You do not look particularly convinced: Don’t you believe me?”

“Of course, I do. It’s just… uh…” Cedric looked down. “What is the Countess’ tell-tale sign when she lies?”

Cathleen chuckled. “This is your question?”

“My question to my most desired answer.”

“Good evening, Lady Cathleen, may I borrow your companion?” Cecelia asked, suddenly appearing in front of them before Cathleen could reply.

“Good evening, Lady Cecelia,” said Cathleen, not surprised at all about Cecelia’s appearance. “I do not mind, but perhaps Kristopher does.”

Before Cedric could say “I do,” Cecelia grabbed his arm and said, “He surely does not! The dances are going to start soon, and Cloudia’s stories about his legendary dance skills made me curious.” She looked up at him, smiling widely. “Cloudia also said that he never denies a request for dancing.”

  Something told me that I could protest all I wanted, I would never get out of this situation.

  “Lady Cathleen, are you going to join us on the dance floor? And do you want to dance with the Duke yourself?” Cecelia asked.

“Thank you for asking, Lady Cecelia, but I have to negate both questions. I do not feel like dancing today. However, I may watch it from afar.”

Cecelia grinned. “Oh, please, do! You will be witnessing a spectacle, won’t she, Your Grace?”

“She surely will,” Cedric mumbled.

“Well, then, Lady Cathleen – the Duke and I will take our leave now; I already hear the music! If we join any later, we may cause a bit of chaos among the participants.”

“I hope you will have fun,” said Cathleen. Right before Cedric could be dragged away by Cecelia, Cathleen took his arm and leaned forward to speak into his ear: “Please, do not forget that Cloudia does indeed like you even if she does not explicitly show it at all times. And please be so kind not to tell her that I told you that she bites her bottom lip when she lies or feels particularly uncomfortable.”

And with these words, Cedric was taken away to the dance floor. Cathleen waved him goodbye.

  ***

  “Your footwork is just as lousy as Cloudia told me it is, Not-Kristopher,” Cecelia remarked while they whirled over the dance floor.

“What did I do to you that you are doing this to me?” asked Cedric, doing his absolute best not to step on her feet.

“I think you are misunderstanding something, dear Not-Kristopher: I do not despise you; you are not my enemy but my ally. All I do is tease you. And isn’t teasing fun? Cloudia told me that you liked having fun and doing funny things and that you could not care less about what others think of you – so, why are you not like this now?”

“If I am your ally and you treat me as such, I really do not want to know what you would do to your enemies.”

“You did not answer my question.”

“I could not care less if people started gossiping about my ‘dance skills’ – but the Countess does. Besides, I would not exactly call dancing fun, but rather torture,” Cedric replied.

“Well, if you want to make a good impression and dancing easier, less stressful for you, I think you should stop focusing so stiffly on yourself: It only makes you anxious and more inclined to make mistakes,” Cecelia advised him.

“On what else should I focus then?”

“Me; everywhere else, of course.”

“And this works?”

“Sometimes,” she said, and with a sigh, Cedric looked up, playing through the steps he had to make in his mind while focusing his eyes on the other dancers and the crowd around the dance floor. Again, he searched for people he knew. Most in the crowd looked completely unfamiliar to him – but then, in the distance, Cedric recognised Baron Milton Salisbury who stood at a wall all by himself, staring absentmindedly into the distance. The joy of seeing a familiar face broke Cedric’s concentration and he stepped on Cecelia’s foot.

“Apparently, you are a hopeless case in this regard as well, Not-Kristopher,” Cecelia said, scowling at him.

“Well, the Countess did warn you.”

“I am afraid she may have downplayed your lack of talent – but then, it certainly cannot be put into words how awful at dancing you are! What distracted you anyway?”

“I saw Milton,” Cedric told her.

She raised an eyebrow. “So, the Baron did come after all? He accepted the invitation and wrote that he would come, but I have not seen him throughout the evening. It is always so hard to spot him! So, where is the good Baron Salisbury?”

“Over there by the wall,” he said, nodding into Milton’s general direction.

They whirled around, and Cecelia craned her head to look. “I do not see him. Where did you say he is standing?”

“Just there,” he said, nodding again into the Baron’s direction; and again, Cecelia looked.

“I am still not seeing him – I am not as tall as you and it is too crowded; that must be the reason why I cannot see him. But then, all I wanted to know was if he was here or not; and apparently, he is, so I’m satisfied. I do not have anything to say to him anyway. Not now at least.”

“I think I am going to go and talk to him,” Cedric stated when the song was finally over and the dance as well. Before Cecelia could hold him back, Cedric let go of her and vanished in the crowd.

  I did not think I could survive one more dance.

  “Baron! Long-time no see,” said Cedric when he arrived by Milton who turned to whoever had spoken and smiled when he saw Cedric.

“Duke Underwood! It has indeed been a long time,” Milton said in the same joyful way Cedric remembered. “How are you?”

“I am fine. But how are you? The last time I saw you your villa was destroyed. I’ve wondered: Was it already rebuilt?”

“I am well. The villa was not rebuilt; I let it be completely demolished and sold the building area. I think something is currently built there, but I honestly cannot remember what.”

Cedric frowned. “You did not try to repair it? It was not hopelessly damaged after all – and wasn’t it in your family’s possession for many, many years?”

“I assure you, Your Grace, that the villa was more damaged than it appeared it was,” said Milton. “Whatever is built in its stead now will be of better use than a villa which is inhabited less than twice a year anyway.”

“If you say so?” Cedric said, raising an eyebrow. “And please call me Kristopher; there’s no need to be overly formal.”

Milton’s smile widened. “Then, please just call me Milton. By the way, Kristopher, the party is wonderful; you did well organising everything.”

“I had help,” Cedric said. “Anyway, what do you mean the Salisbury Villa was only inhabited less than twice a year? Where were you living if not there?”

“Everywhere else, basically: I travel a lot because of my work and only return to England if I absolutely have to. Or if it is time to fulfil my social duties and attend a couple of gatherings here. And if I am even in England, I have a nice flat in London where I reside.”

“Wait – where you even in England since the bombing?”

“Not at all.”

“You were away for one year and a half?!”

“I was away for longer periods of time before, but yes.” Milton smiled shyly. “Is it very odd?”

“No, I don’t think so. Where were you even if not in England?”

“Uh, in all sorts of places.”

“You were on the road for one year and a half?!”

“I cannot afford not to travel constantly,” Milton said bashfully.

“And you have still returned to attend my party? I’m feeling honoured,” said Cedric.

Milton clenched and unclenched his hands. Before, they had hung restlessly to his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “Well, you did attend my party, so I thought that it would be appropriate to attend yours as well…”

“There’s no need to be nervous around me, Milton.” Cedric leaned forward. “Would you be less nervous if Lady Cloudia Phantomhive was here?”

  In this one point, I had to agree with Cecelia: Teasing was surely a lot of fun even if I felt sorry for Milton.

  Milton’s cheeks slightly turned red. “Huh? Oh, I cannot say, Lady Cloudia is not here after all.”

“The last time you weren’t nervous and she was here, so I would say that you wouldn’t be nervous if she was here.”

“Uh, no, you are mistaken, Kristopher, I am always nervous. I…”

Cedric laughed. “I am sorry, Milton. I didn’t mean to upset you; I was just teasing.”

“Oh, sure, it’s all right…” he said, smiling faintly.

“Allow me this one final remark regarding Lady Cloudia: I am surprised that you still have not required about her, asked if she was even here at all.”

Instantly, Milton’s smile vanished and, instead, puzzlement laid itself over his face. “Huh? Well, I know that she is busy right now and could not come because of that. But don’t you know, Kristopher? Wanting to attend your party is only one of the reasons why I have returned to…”

“May I intrude for a second?” said a man and stepped to Cedric and Milton.

“Oh, of course,” Cedric replied, irritated. “Is it fine for you as well, Mil–” he began to say, turning back to Milton who had somehow managed to escape the scene. Bewildered, Cedric turned back to the man who had light brown hair and a friendly face.

“Excuse me if I ask, but who are you again?” said Cedric.

“Oh, how rude of me not to introduce myself!” The man extended his hand. “Lord George Midford – very honoured to meet you, Your Grace.”

Cedric took his hand and shook it. “Likewise.”

George Midford withdrew his hand and started to search for something in his jacket pockets. “I do not want to occupy too much of your time, Your Grace. You must be busy after all as you are hosting this party – a very nice party, I have to say. If I have to organise my first own party, I want to do as well as you did, Your Grace.” He took a parcel out of his jacket. “I have only come to give my greetings and to give you this little present from my uncle who, sadly, couldn’t come himself. He is very sorry because of that.”

“I hope your uncle’s doing well, at least. Someone else couldn’t come because he injured himself while hunting,” said Cedric, taking the parcel.

George’s green eyes widened. “Oh, that is awful! I hope he is doing better – but my uncle is doing very well, thank you, Your Grace. He is simply busy.”

“I am hearing this quite often lately. Lord George, who is your uncle anyway?” Cedric asked at the same time as George said, “It was very nice to meet you. I hope we will see each other another time, Your Grace,” and vanished in the crowd.

  What was going on with everyone? Was there some kind of attraction I forgot? Was everyone going there?

  Cedric looked down at the parcel in his hands.

  Aside from George, I knew no other Midford. So – who was his uncle? And why did he want his nephew to give me this? What was inside? Should I open it now or later? I really wanted to open it now, but parties were not the safest places to open mysterious parcels, so I just pocketed it for later.

 And what now?

I looked around, and my eyes fell to the buffet. After all these troubles, I had surely earned a piece of cake.

  With sure steps, Cedric headed to the cake table – and to his delight, he spotted Cathleen there.

“Cathleen! There we meet again,” he said when he stepped next to her and eyed the cakes, pies, muffins, and biscuits.

“I should have known that I would meet you here – Cloudia always speaks about how much you love sweets,” Cathleen said, amused. “That’s one of the reasons why she sent me here in the first place.”

“Because she can’t be here and she needed someone else to make sure that I don’t throw myself at the sweets table?”

She laughed. “No – it is because she thought that we would get along very well as I have a sweet tooth just like you.”

His face lit up. “Really?” Cedric asked, taking a plate and putting as many muffins on it as possible.

“Yes. I hope you know that Cloudia likes to bake? Or, at least, to make cakes? I always make sure to spend as much time with each of my cousins as possible; and because I cannot spend time with Cloudia when she is out investigating, I am always willing and ready to taste-test the cakes she makes. And as she is a perfectionist, there is always plenty of cake for me.” Cathleen leaned forward a bit to Cedric. “Still, you have to promise me never to steal this position from me.”

“Hah, as if the Countess would even allow me to eat anything she makes, but I promise you this anyway,” he said. “And August? Does he like sweet things just like you?”

“Not at all. He and I are very different in many regards; still, we resonate perfectly. Or, perhaps, because of this we fit so well together? I cannot say! All I can say is that August hates sweet things and is more than happy if I eat his portion,” Cathleen told him. “Now, say, Kristopher, how was your dance with Lady Cecelia?”

“Equal times irritating and exhausting. At least, I saw Milton and got an excuse to retreat so that she couldn’t force me to accept another dance.”

“You have spoken to Baron Salisbury? He was here a few minutes ago; he only wanted to pass by, but he did so in quite a hurry and accidentally knocked over a few things on the table. I assisted him a bit with the clean-up.”

Cedric frowned. “He was in a hurry?”

“Yes, but it is nothing unusual. Baron Salisbury seems to be always in a hurry, always restless and nervous. He is the only person I know who dislikes social gatherings even more than Cloudia. And you know how much she dislikes them.”

“This makes me remember that Milton told me that he wasn’t in England in over a year! I don’t think he just dislikes socialising; I guess he outright hates it.”

Cathleen shook her head. “I would not say that he hates it. If you talk to him, he is always very nice and polite. And if he is at a smaller social gathering, he is slightly more relaxed than usual. I suppose what Baron Salisbury actually dislikes are crowds.”

“Hm, I see. Milton also said that he had a reason why he returned to England just now – another one than simply attending this party. Do you happen to know anything about it, Cathleen? He vanished before he could tell me, and I am curious.”

“Huh? I cannot believe that Cloudia did not tell you anything! Kristopher, Baron Salisbury is here because…”

“I apologise for intruding again,” said Cecelia while she walked to them. “But I have made it my holy task to make His Grace live up to his address. Or do you want to dance so sloppily at Cloudia’s wedding to Baron Salisbury as well?”

“At the what?” Cedric exclaimed, and Cecelia took advantage of his shocked state to take the plate from his hand and to grab his arm.

“Didn’t you know? You were too late, dear. Cloudia will be a married woman in a fortnight! That’s why our dear Baron Salisbury is here.”

“Stop teasing him, Lady Cecelia,” said Cathleen. “This is not the reason why Baron Salisbury is here. We should tell him because Cloudia seems to have forgotten.”

  Good grief. I thought that, for a moment, I got even older than I already was.

  “I wanted to see His Grace’s face upon receiving news about an apparent wedding of Cloudia’s!” said Cecelia, and grinning, she held up Cedric’s arm to which she was still tightly holding on. “Of course, this was also part of my scheme. I hope you enjoy the rest of the party, Lady Cathleen!” Cecelia waved at Cathleen before taking Cedric back with her to the dance floor.

“Why is Milton here now?” Cedric asked while he danced, once again, with Cecelia. “I want to know!”

“Doesn’t everyone want something? Don’t think about it too much, Not-Kristopher, and rather focus on dancing. It is better if you directly ask Cloudia anyway.”

  ***

  It had taken me a day to recover from the party, or more specifically, it had taken a day until I could feel my legs again. Cecelia could surely be adamant.

At least, this nonsense was finally over and I was fine again which meant that nothing could hinder me from talking to Cloudia. And so, as soon as I had finished working, I got changed and went to Phantomhive Manor. This time, however, I did not bother to come through the main entrance and announce myself; no, this time, I just made myself appear in Cloudia’s antechamber so that she would not have the time to escape or to find an excuse to dismiss me.

Expectant, I threw myself on the sofa and waited.

  “I have awai–” started Cedric when the door finally opened half an hour later, but he was harshly cut off by Cloudia who pressed the dagger against his throat.

“Oh, it’s just you,” she said, withdrawing and pocketing the dagger.

“I hope you did not forget that I can still die,” said Cedric, sitting up.

Cloudia went to close the door. “Of course, I didn’t. Now, tell me, why are you here, Undertaker? And please keep it short, I don’t have time for one of your rambles.”

“That’s exactly why I am here: You are busy all the time and I have no idea why. And you are avoiding me. Usually, you are busy, but you don’t avoid me; you only tell me to go away for a few hours. Something is bothering you, and I want to know what it is. Is it something I did or didn’t do? Cathleen told me that it has nothing to do with me, and I believe her – at the same time, however, I cannot help myself but think that she may be wrong and I am indeed somehow responsible for whatever is wrong.” He stood up. “I would rather stay than returning to my old life, but if you, for whatever reason, decided not to want to have me around anymore, I will go. But if I go, I want at least a reason why I should.”

With a sigh, Cloudia sat down on an armchair. “Do not be so dramatic, Undertaker. This has absolutely nothing to do with you. It’s just that I don’t really want to talk about, don’t want to be reminded of it, and you are oftentimes as obstinate as a grass stain on clothes.”

“I just want to help you,” said Cedric and bit on his tongue so that the rest of his thoughts could not escape out of his mouth: because it is always so awfully bleak when you are unhappy, and I cannot stand it.

“I doubt that you can.”

“Well, let me try at least.”

Cloudia clenched her hands together. “Fine. I’ll tell you: When I was brought to the Witch’s Castle two months ago, all I had with me was taken away from me: the skull pendant necklace, the dagger, the Phantomhive ring. I got the dagger and necklace back, but not the ring. The entire place was searched and searched, but it could not be found. I have honestly managed to lose the most important object my family possesses.” She sank back in her chair. “And since it’s gone, I feel miserable. I hate that I feel like that, but I just cannot help myself.”

“You have lost your blue ring in the Witch’s Castle?” Cedric asked; her words had stirred something in his mind.

“Yes. And to make it worse: It was in the dining room when I was there; I just had to go and pick it up – instead, I chose the necklace and reached out to you, and now, the ring is gone, and there is no way for me to find out where it went.”

  Dining room?

Uh… oh!

  “I think I can help you,” said Cedric, searching through his pockets.

“Undertaker, I am not in the mood for your biscuits.”

“For once, that’s not what I mean.” His fingers curled around something in his trouser pocket, and with a smile, Cedric stepped forward and theatrically knelt down and took his hand out of his pocket, holding it out to Cloudia.

“I also do not want your rubbish,” she said.

“Countess, I assure you: This will certainly lift your spirits.” Cedric opened his hand, the blue Phantomhive ring glowing in his palm.

Cloudia’s eyes widened and she took the ring from him. “You had it all the time?”

“Yes, but I have forgotten that I had it until now. I picked it up in the dining room when I was searching for you in the Witch’s Castle, but everything was so hectic and chaotic back then, I completely forgot about the ring.”

“I cannot believe that you had it all the time and made me go through this misery! And made me believe that the ring was lost forever.”

“I did it not intentionally! I simply forgot about it. I’m sorry; I didn’t know. But then, I would have known about your misery sooner if you had not avoided me for the past two months.”

Ignoring him, Cloudia put the ring on and a smile appeared on her face, and in this very moment, Cedric could not care less that she was ignoring his words.

“There you are: happy again,” he said, mirroring her.

She raised her head to grin at him, but when their eyes met, her smile faltered and ultimately vanished.

“Is something wrong?” asked Cedric.

“Undertaker, were you seriously carrying the ring for two months? In the same pair of pants? Did we not have lengthy conversations about hygiene?”

“But you don’t wash pants as often as other pieces of clothes!”

Cloudia grimaced. “But you wore this particular pair in that filthy castle! And you sat on my furniture! You will not touch anything in this house until you have changed! And not me as well!”

“Well, I’ve touched the ring,” he reminded her.

Horrified, Cloudia glanced down at her hand, Cedric laughed, and the door flew open.

“I wanted to visit Cloudia and came here,” said Cecelia when she stepped into the antechamber. “And, at the door, what do I hear? Hysteria! And, now here, what do I see? Not-Kristopher all alone in a room with Cloudia! What were you trying, you wretch?”

“I didn’t try or do anything!” Cedric exclaimed. “I’ve just given the Countess the ring back.”

A bright grin appeared on Cecelia’s lips. “So you were giving her a ring while kneeling down in front of her? You must have started to panic and decided to hurry up after I said that Cloudia was going to marry Baron Salisbury!” She chuckled. “But, apparently, you have failed dramatically, Not-Kristopher, considering the hysteria I’ve heard.”

“Wait – what? No!” Cedric stood up again. “I was just giving her the blue Phantomhive family ring!”

“You proposed to her with her own ring? What a cheapskate you are, Not-Kristopher!”

“I wasn’t proposing to her!”

“Yes, he was not,” Cloudia said, standing up. “Otherwise, he would be dead by now. How could I ever marry someone who does not even wash his trousers once in the course of two months? Especially after walking through dirt and filth and blood in them? And where does this nonsense about me marrying Milton come from?”

“It was just a transparent lie I told to tease him at the party! Which was grandiose, of course. You should have been there, Cloudia! But what has already happened cannot be undone…” Cecelia stepped out of the room. “Anyway, Cloudia, I will wait for you in the parlour until you have finished your business with Mr Gross-Pants!” And with these words and a little wave, she left.

Cloudia turned to Cedric. “You honestly thought for even a second that I was going to marry Milton?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “He’s nice, he likes you, and don’t you people marry when you are, well, your age? Cathleen is only two years older than you and already married.”

“Cathleen won the suitor lottery when she was fifteen. Of course, she and August waited a few years until they got married. I, however, have no intention to marry anytime soon. Also, even if I wanted to, it would be rather difficult to find anyone who could and would even marry me. After all, my potential husband would have to fulfil quite a few requirements like being willing to give up their own name and all they have built. But let’s not talk about this anymore.” Cloudia walked into the corridor, and Cedric followed her.

“Do you have anything else to tell me? I wasn’t lying when I said that I was busy.”

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you something about Milton – but it does not have to do with weddings and marriage, I assure you.”

“Well, then, just ask. Why are you so hesitant? Have you finally bought a portion of tact at the black market?”

“Ugh, never. Anyway, Milton was there at the party and we talked a bit. He told me that he was not in England since his villa was destroyed – that he is generally very seldom in England. He also said that he had two reasons to return now: to attend my party which was very nice of him because I needed more people I knew there or I would have died again. But before Milton could tell me his second reason, we were interrupted, he vanished, and I didn’t see him again. I’ve asked Cecelia and Cathleen about it, and they said that you know too why Milton’s here – so, why is Milton here?”

Cloudia chuckled. “You were at a party with Cecelia, Cathleen, and Milton; you talked to all of them, and you still don’t know? Remind me that I can never let you interrogate anyone because, apparently, the only person you drill with questions is me.”

“And why is he here now?”

“I’ve told Cecelia that she should inform you about it: Ask her.”

“Countess!”

“Calm down. I’m going to tell you, don’t worry,” she said while they walked through the corridors. “Milton is here because I’ve asked him for a favour. Do you remember that he’s the head of a company?”

“Yes. Flavian Hunt tried to kill him because he was jealous that Milton’s company was more successful than his own.”

“Exactly. Specifically, Milton owns a trading company. One aspect that makes him stand out is the fact that his ships are faster than regular passenger ships. Furthermore, as he is constantly travelling, he knows the fastest, the best travelling routes. And because Milton is friendly to everyone – we are talking about a person who invited his business rivals to his party despite the fact that some of them are quite hostile as we have seen – Milton knows quite a lot of people almost everywhere in the world. People who are happy to help him to get from place to place. Of course, they are only an unofficial addition to all his employees and business partners who are in charge of and who help him transporting his goods everywhere.”

“And this has to do with the favour because…?”

“This has to do with the favour because we are going to travel and need assistance to get where we need to go; it has to be fast, efficient, and, at least, somewhat undercover – and Milton is the best contact when it comes to such things,” Cloudia told him.

“I’ve thought that you cannot leave the United Kingdom because of your Watchdog duties,” Cedric pointed out.

“That’s correct, but I can also leave the isle if it is because of my Watchdog duties.” She beamed. “And that’s exactly what this is: a business trip to the continent!”

“Who is going? Just you and Milton?”

“Don’t be ridiculous; of course, more people will come. You, for example.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I?”

“Well, I’ve been talking about how ‘we’ are going to travel to the continent. Of course, you can only come if you manage to apply for leave for this time.”

“And when are we going?”

“On Tuesday,” Cloudia said and continued walking while Cedric stopped.

“Tuesday?! But that is only two days away! Less than two days!”

“Then, you should hurry up with the application.”

Cedric scowled. “Good that I am always the first one to learn about things,” he mumbled, and then, he said louder: “Where are we even going, Countess?”

“To France!” Cloudia called back to him, walked down the stairs, and vanished from his view.

   ***

  London, England, United Kingdom – January 1847

 ~Cloudia~

 On the day Cloudia Phantomhive had been out to kill Ronan Parrish, she had been tired – tired, bored, and wishing to be somewhere else.

But that was nothing unusual for her. For she had been feeling like this for quite a while now. The fact that she was currently staying at the Phantomhive townhouse had, however, amplified her ordeal.

But now, many hours after she had woken from a terrible, restless sleep, and only one hour after she had finished her job to get rid of Parrish, things were very, very different.

For the first time in months, Cloudia Phantomhive felt truly and fully awake.

It had not been the killing that had re-energised her though; it had been the strange encounter and conversation that she had afterwards. Exactly this wondrous encounter and conversation was all that she had in mind on her way back to the townhouse – and she wondered if this event would be all that filled her when she arrived too and if it would continue to do so for days and months and perhaps even years.

  “Very well. So the deal is done, Cedric K. Rossdale.”

“Very well, the deal is done, Cloudia Phantomhive.”

Did this really happen?

  However, even though this event completely occupied her mind, Cloudia could still not fully process it and the odd feeling that came with it. And when the carriage finally arrived at the townhouse, she stepped out and walked back inside as if she was in trance. It was such a strange feeling: She felt electrified, awake and ready to conquer everything, but at the same time, she was reserved and full of questions. It was a bit as if her mind had finally awoken from a long sleep – only for something to want to force it back to sleep.

Still, even in this very conflicting state, Cloudia did not forget to head to the library first before getting out of her bloody clothes and going to bed. After all, she had promised Oscar that she would meet him there.

“Mylady, I have asked for you to meet me, but it can certainly wait until tomorrow: You look tired; you should go to sleep,” said Oscar when Cloudia walked into the library.

“I may look tired, but my mind is very much awake; I doubt that I could fall asleep easily now,” she replied, sitting down on a seat opposite Oscar’s.

“You indeed look excited; you did not look as spirited as you do now in quite a while now,” Oscar remarked.

“Mylady, you do not only look tired and spirited at once – you look like you have just seen a ghost,” he continued, and his beautiful blue eyes shone with a light she had never seen before in them when he took a better look at her. “No, let me correct myself: What you have seen and encountered was not a ghost, but a Grim Reaper.”

Cloudia’s eyes widened and she could only stare at him while Oscar put a bookmark into his book and laid it on the side table next to him.

“Mylady, I think we have to talk.”

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #44

UPDATE 44: The Mastermind and the Hero

Last time Taylor had taken a decision on what to do now that her former plans of betraying the Undersiders were revealed. She doesn’t want to be a hero, returning to the group is not an option...what is left? She took a decision, which isn’t mentioned here, so it’s going to be interesting and a surprise. Let’s continue with the intermission to finish this arc.

The moment I read the first sentence of this intermission I know it’s going to be good.

Coil held firmly to the philosophy that one couldn’t be too paranoid.

Coil, huh. Rather fitting for him to be the focus of this intermission, given the circumstances. He’s a rather important character right now, this is a good chance to see more of how he thinks and behaves. Besides, he’s interesting, and his power is one I have a lot of curiosity for. I already have high expectations for this interlude!

There are two realities right now, no indication on which one Coil will choose in the end. To make optimal use of his power – I think – he is in rather different situations, almost opposite to each other. In one he is at his hideout, with all those soldiers. In the other he is with what I imagine is his civilian identity, going to work and living in a neighborhood that’s not as flooded as the rest of the city. I see, I see. Hm.

To all appearances, he was an ordinary man leaving for work.  His identity, fabricated, was complete, a real job at a real company, records going back ten years in health, taxes, dentistry, house payments and more.

How odd...so he had to fabricate an identity, huh. I wonder why he had to do that? I mean, before he got his powers and all, I suppose he had an identity, didn’t he? Could it be Coil’s civilian identity is thought to be dead? Or in prison? Or in any other circumstances that would make it really inconvenient for his real name to be revealed? There must be something going on here...but I’m not sure what it could be. Maybe it’s just his paranoia. He said it, you can’t be too paranoid.

Coil’s favorite henchmen were those who had, hm, a hook, a vice or something they needed on a primal, desperate level.  Thanks to that kind of thing, it was easier to obtain their loyalty, since he could provide what they need. I suppose those are the perks of being hella rich and having a power like his, that he has ways to give those people what they want.

Well, they were the Travelers, Creeps and Grues of the world.

I wonder what he offered to the Travelers and Grue? Maybe the reason why the Travelers were nomadic is because they were looking for something, and they finally have the chance to obtain it thanks to Coil? That’d explain why they’d stick around. And Grue...well, my thought is that it could be related to his sister. He would do anything for her.

Coil puts on his costume while on the back of a van a person known as Creep will drive. They’re going to the construction site, to the hideout. He is considering ditching his civilian identity and sticking to the Coil identity permanently. I don’t know, wearing that costume 24/7 has to get uncomfortable at some point. Hah! Okay, no, for real, people may notice the civilian identity disappearing, perhaps? Well, maybe not, if he doesn’t socialize much and has an isolated lifestyle. He seems the kind of person that’d have that kind of lifestyle.

Coil’s underground base had fallen just beyond the scope of the massive lake in the middle of downtown.  Had the crater extended another forty or fifty feet, it might have done more than crack the interior walls, cost Coil months of time rather than days, hundreds of thousands rather than thousands.

Lucky guy. Well, maybe it’s for the better. If the base had been affected more, Dinah could have been in danger.

Speaking of Dinah, the first thing he does is go see her and ask what seem to be routine questions: if there will be trouble during the next hour, and if there will be trouble before lunchtime. Both answers are met with rather low percentages of trouble, so he deletes the reality where he stayed up all night gathering information. Ah, so that’s how he does it...interesting. As soon as he deletes those, he divides reality again.

He often wondered if he really was creating the realities, or if it was solely in his perception, foretelling futures to the extent that they hinged on his actions. He’d asked his Tattletale, and she hadn’t had an answer for him.

Who knows. In my opinion, it looks more like the second possibility. It’s not that I think it’s impossible for someone to be creating split timelines and all that, it’s more like...I think if a new timeline was created, other stuff would change other than what Coil affects with his actions and plans, it’d all divert more than it does according to this power. I think it’s more like foresight depending on his own actions.

He also ensures his actions in each timeline differ a lot. I suppose that’s smart, it helps know what would happen depending on drastically different actions. Here he divided the timelines. In one he goes with his captains, in the other he surveys the base.

He owned the company that had built the underground shelters in Brockton Bay and neighboring cities.  Hiding the details on his base in construction was a matter of intercepting information at the right time and place, paying with his own money rather than the city’s, controlling what was reported and to whom.

He owns that company? Well! That explains how he managed to hide this secret base without anyone noticing. I suppose he’s adding the same protections the rest of the shelters have – and more than that, because I bet he’s giving his own base perks the other shelters don’t have. Making it sturdier or something.

The Travelers’ room is ready, there’s even a containment facility for…uh…I forgot her name, dang. You know who they’re referring to. The worse she feels, the stronger her powers are, if I remember correctly. It’s no surprise a containment facility is needed for her. At least the rest of the Travelers are here to keep her more or less calm and as harmless as possible.

One of the reasons why he makes timelines so different is because he doesn’t like to talk with important subordinates without having a…failsafe, a reality to escape to just in case something goes wrong. The information stays, and none of the consequences happen.

Now that I think about it, what happens if Coil dies in one of the timelines? Is it deleted automatically and all returns to the one he is alive in? Does the timeline where he died continue intact? I wonder…

Okay, I didn’t expect to see background information on this Mr. Pitter guy. His is a rather tragic backstory, he was an exemplary nanny until he tried to divorce and his former wife ruined his life. Coil made that wife disappear, and that bought his undying loyalty.  Not so tragic anymore! But hey, he is perfect to deal with Noelle’s complicated situation. Noelle, that’s her name. I won’t forget it ever again.

Once Mr. Pitter sadistically wakes up Trickster after just three hours of sleep, Coil takes the reins of the situation.

“Thank you,” Coil replied, “I would like to speak with your friend, downstairs.  Past experience has suggested this works best if you act as an intermediary.”

I don’t know, I think that’s bound to upset Noelle, even if Trickster is here. This is going to be rather delicate. Not that…Coil will be in trouble, if talking with Noelle goes pear-shaped, he can go to his other timeline.

“Nothing definitive.  I had intended to introduce Tattletale from the Undersiders to this situation, ask her for her opinions.  That is, if she doesn’t already have some idea of what’s going on.  Either way, her talents might turn up some details we have missed.”

“Had intended? I take it that she can’t, now, because of what happened at the hospital?”

“Something like that. She’s informed me that there’s currently difficulties within her group and requested that I not distract her or give her tasks until things have been settled ‘one way or the other’.  Her words.”

I think Trickster will have an idea of what Tattletale meant. He was there when the events of that chapter happened, recording it in his phone, he may be aware of Skitter’s alignment and can imagine they’re trying to deal with her. Heck, I wouldn’t blame him if he thinks ‘one way or another’ is an euphemism for ‘we’re giving her brand new cement shoes’. Not that anyone in the Undersiders would want to do that.

Okay! Meeting Noelle won’t be as risky as I thought it’d be! They can do it from outside the vault, there’s an intercom there. Noelle shows her face, it’s obvious she isn’t having a good time. The construction noise may have made her antsy, so she was locked here, and she doesn’t like it. Hm. I hope this room is soundproof – what am I saying? Coil isn’t stupid. I bet it is soundproof!

Noelle sounds rather coherent. That may be a good sign. She is lonely, she can’t call anyone – well, she can, but she thinks Trickster and Oliver are busy all the time (she may or may not be right) and Mr. Pitter is a creepy man. I mean, if he gave Coil pause then yeah, he must be really creepy. His lack of reaction here doesn’t cement him as the poster boy of kindness and personality.

Huh. So...what Coil promised in exchange for the Travelers’ cooperation was to fix Noelle? That’s a really tall order.

“You’ve been working on that for a month now!”  She began to shout, which only added to the gravelly quality of her voice, “Fix this!  Fix me! You did this to me, Krouse!”

Oh man, that sure is opening a can of worms! Let’s see...by Krouse she means Trickster, because Coil says Trickster is not to blame. Then could it be possible Trickster accidentally triggered Noelle’s awakening? Did he cause her trigger event? That’s my theory here, that something he did made Noelle gain the powers she hates so much. In that case, is Trickster taking her with them because he feels guilty about it, perhaps? Come on, give more details!

No details. Coil gets rid of this reality, having confirmed Noelle is getting worse. He positions himself into the reality where he is going with his captains.

Okay, Coil seamlessly gains consciousness about what happened in the other timeline, without reacting not even a little bit! I wonder how it felt the first few times? How did he find out how his power works? Golly, there are so many details I want to know and no time to get them. I think that says a lot about Mr. Wildbow’s writing, that it makes me keep wondering about stuff, and it’s not because plot holes or anything like that, it’s because it’s so interesting and it also makes me wonder how the characters react.

Coil uses his knowledge to good use. Trickster shall sleep, Noelle will be given double rations so she has nothing to complain about – except, you know, that she isn’t getting any better. And, just in case, the vault will be reinforced. Another door, mostly. Yeah, he had said Noelle was getting worse, didn’t he? This is an obvious precaution.

Better ask Dinah the usual questions. Routines are important. The numbers haven’t changed at all, but there are new questions here, so it’s not like this is a repeated scene. Interesting questions, right here.

“The chance my grand plan is a success, ignoring any uses of my powers?”

“Seventy two point two zero zero two one percent.”

And that is without using his powers? Wow, Coil’s work has been really effective! It’s not a hundred percent, and there’s no reason for him to ever stop using his powers – percentages can change at the drop of a hat, we already saw that – but this is a good way to measure his progress.

Interestingly enough, the number was better than it had been before Leviathan attacked.

Hmmm...maybe that’s not so surprising. Someone among the capes who died may had the potential to be a significant player in any way to try to stop Coil. Kaiser is my first thought, but it could have been a hero, many died, including local ones.

Coil also tries to find out the odds the Undersiders’ problems will be resolved. When that turns out to be too vague, he asks if they’ll be standing by his side when he succeeds or fails.

“Sixty five point six.  But they aren’t all the same Undersiders.”

Without Skitter, then? If so, then Coil’s success/failure will arrive in matter of days, or Skitter will have to take a hella long time to reconcile with them or do...whatever she wants to do.

“One more question.  What is the chance that I find a remedy to the Travelers’ circumstances?  To one decimal point?”

“Nine point five.  Candy?”

A full seven percent lower than it had been before the Endbringer attack.  Had a crucial individual died or left the city? Or was his running theory correct? Was there a reason Leviathan had come here, beyond the chance to attack a city already under siege?

Seven percent?! Their odds were already worryingly low, and now they’re even lower! Wow. Noelle’s odds are looking awful. There’s no way Coil is telling the Travelers this – not that he’d have a reason to talk about Dinah to them. But still...the Travelers’ patience may have a limit. If they see no progress, they may decide to leave Coil. That’ll impact his plans somehow, won’t it?

It was hard to ignore the reality, that Leviathan, from the time he arrived, had gradually moved closer and closer to this location, where the girl had already been ensconced.  The Travelers had even picked up on that, called him, worried.

...when it’s brought up like this it’s impossible it was just a coincidence. Leviathan was going to get Noelle? What for? I think that’s the important question here, why he’d try to get to Noelle. Is she like a beacon, or is her power somehow attracting Leviathan, or...hm. Depending of what’s going on, there is a chance Leviathan may return in the future again, then? I don’t think this city can withstand another attack from Leviathan.

Seven percent lower.  At what point did earning their loyalty fail to be worth the resources he was investing?

When they start failing or they start having serious doubts about you being able to help, of course. What’s hard to know is when it’ll start happening.

His plans are going so well he can almost taste victory. This all has been years of work, it started with gaming the markets, and kept going from there, having to be patient.

It had certainly been an expensive talent.  Even with his ability to game the markets in a way that clairvoyants and precognitives couldn’t detect, it had taken him years to pay it off.  A maddening, frustrating endeavor, when he had already been thinking of plans he wanted to set in motion, having to postpone them. And he still owed a favor, even now, up to a week’s services.  He couldn’t be sure if he was powerful and secure enough to fight back if they demanded too expensive a price, or too much of his time at a point critical to his plan.

It sounds to me like there’s someone else above Coil, someone who...I’m not sure of the implications here. It kind of sounds like he was given this power, but I’m not sure. Those would be quite meaningful implications.

He can’t get impatient now, nor he can indulge himself in his vices, not when he is so close to victory. And that’s the end of this interlude. That was quite the interesting glimpse into Coil’s way of working! I’m glad this exists. Great! He’s turning out to be every bit as twisted as I expected, maybe even more. There always was this continuous feeling of malice in his actions. I mean, it’s pretty obvious he looks only his own success, isn’t it? Improving the city and all that...that’d be more like an afterthought, that’s what I have thought for a long while.

So, there’s a new arc coming! Ninth arc, it’s titled ‘Sentinel’. Let’s get it started!

Okay, I have read a few paragraphs and I can already see Worm has taken a sharp left turn, so to say. This reads almost like an intermission, but it's a normal arc. Huh! When I was saying things were going to change, I didn’t mean even a change in the point of view character, Mr. Wildbow! I can’t even tell yet who this person is supposed to be, hm...a male character, arriving to the city. Can’t tell alignment yet.

Stainless steel handles on the doors.  He put his hands on the painted surface instead, pushed them open, and then held one of the doors open for the cart.  He was distracted enough that he almost didn’t notice the group waiting for him.

The group consisted of a squad of PRT officers with their regular assortment of nonlethal weaponry and a large woman with a bleached blonde bob.

A group of PRT officers, and the woman here says she is glad he arrived. So this guy here isn’t a villain or someone to be imprisoned. Does that mean we’re stepping away from the villain protagonist thing? That’d be a shame, I thought that was pretty fun.

He glanced quickly at her hand, checking there were no rings, then shook it.  “Thank you, ma’am.  Director Piggot, I’m assuming?”

Ah. He’s meeting Director Piggot right after arriving! This guy must be a rather important person – and young, too, judging by what happened with his luggage a moment ago.

It seems things aren’t getting much better in Brockton Bay after Leviathan’s attack. Anarchy reigns. People who were frustrated and living from paycheck to paycheck are now...well who knows what they’re doing. Nothing good, Piggot’s words make that much clear. Riots, perhaps?

“Are you ready to take command of the local Wards?”

I must say, I’m surprised at the risk Mr. Wildbow is taking! We go from a wannabe hero turned villain, to a cape that’s going to be the leader of the Wards. That’s rather different from what I have read so far in this story! I wonder if it’s just for this arc, or if it’s a more permanent thing?

Leaving that aside, since this person will lead the Wards, that means he is a teenager. Alright!

“Good. The team here is smaller than your old team in Boston.  It currently consists of Clockblocker, Vista, Kid Win and Shadow Stalker.  We had two members die in the attack, and a third left with his family when they evacuated.”

Rest in peace, Aegis and Gallant. Also, Browbeat wasn’t mentioned, so he may have been the one who left with his family. It was Browbeat, right? Or maybe I’m getting him mixed up with another cape? There are so many that even with my notes I have a bit of a hard time keeping track of what each one does and who they are, hah.

The Director took the hand of a uniform inside the helicopter, stepping inside, and Weld followed her up, refusing a helping hand.  The helicopter shifted slightly with the addition of his six hundred pounds of weight.

Oh hey, it’s Weld! The one who can absorb metals! And he...weighs six hundred pounds, apparently. Must be all that metal piling up, somehow. That can be quite the problem in everyday life, no elevators or anything like that. Weld seemed like a rather decent person, if I remember right how he behaved last arc. Nice!

Since he will lead the Wards, Piggot makes sure he at least knows the terminology everyone uses to classify capes.

Mover, Shaker,

Brute and Breaker.

Master, Tinker,

Blaster and Thinker,

Striker, Changer,

Trump and Stranger.

I’m pretty sure I received a message explaining each one of these in a word or two, but it seems I lost it somewhere in my website. I really should have tagged it or at least add it to my notes. Way to go, me.

Most are self-explanatory, but I’m not sure what a Shaker, Trump or Stranger do. I suppose I’ll find out the more this story continues, especially now that I’m reading from the point of view of someone who may use those classifications.

Weld is classified as a brute and changer, because he is rather tough and he can change. Simple enough! These classifications were originally aimed at villains, not at heroes, but now they’re used for everyone. Talking about these classifications is a chance for Piggot to introduce a new Ward.

“Right. This potential recruit is tentatively marked down as a Tinker/Mover.  It isn’t unusual for powers to emerge in the wake of an event as serious as this.  For this reason, we keep careful track of things to see if we cannot detect any new parahumans.  This young man has been observed in the south end, moving at over a hundred miles an hour with the assistance of a mechanical suit.  His inclusion on a local team would help fill gaps left by the death of Velocity, a local Protectorate member, and Armsmaster’s retirement.”

Tinker/Mover...so, invention and ingenuity, and skills that allows them to move with ease. Did I get it right? I suppose capes like Velocity are classified as Movers, so I think I got it right.

Leaving that aside...so Armsmaster is retired. Or...”retired”. I’m making the air quotes with my fingers, yeah. It’s a bit vague, this doesn’t tell much of what happened to him. I suppose that they’d all like to spread the word Armsmaster retired instead of whatever happened to him. Maybe he is in the Birdcage. It’d be awful PR if word gets out about what Armsmaster did.

“Others may make themselves known, and we will approach each of them in turn.  To help fill the gap in the meantime, Flechette is arriving from New York.”

That’s a familiar name. She was fighting Leviathan too, wasn’t she? My readers were right, Mr. Wildbow doesn’t introduce names randomly! Weld knows Flechette already, they had a playful rivalry. Piggot takes her role as a humorless boss to the upper limits and doesn’t appreciate the inherent humor in this turn of fate. Will it kill you to show even a little bit of mirth, Piggot? Then again, I suppose you need a stern hand when you’re dealing with a bunch of overpowered teenagers.

“Clockblocker and Vista are your best assets.  Clockblocker is a Striker 7 with touch-based time-stopping.  Vista is a Shaker 9.  Large scale spatial distortion.”

Okay, I wasn’t getting right the Striker denomination! I wasn’t sure what kind of label would fit Clockblocker, but Striker wasn’t one I ever considered would be correct. Vista is a Shaker...hm.

“Kid Win is a Tinker 4.  Guns and antigravity devices, primarily.  Shadow Stalker is more ambiguous.  Breaker 3, sublabels are Stranger 2, Mover 1.  Her particular nature as a ‘breaker’ makes her superlight, semi-gaseous, transparent and capable of passing through solid surfaces.”

Tinker, yep. Breaker...another one I kind of misinterpreted. Shadow Stalker’s Stranger status doesn’t shed any light on what it means, unfortunately for me. The Mover part kind of fits what I had already said, though. I’ll take what I can get.

“Then the top priority as far as opposition goes is… the Archer’s Bridge Merchants? Superpowered drug dealers.  A Shaker 2, Tinker 2/Mover 3 and a Shifter 4. These aren’t big numbers.  Am I missing something?”

The...the Merchants. They’re the top priority.

...

...well alright! Piggot was right, this city is going straight to hell!

The reason why they have acquired so much power is because they have become a rallying point for a lot of people. ‘Have-nots’, as Piggot says. I suppose that after Leviathan’s attack, the number of have-nots increased a lot. Desperation is a rather powerful force.

The Merchants took over the Docks, and their forces increased at breakneck speeds, recently they have started attacking infrastructure and hoarding arriving supplies. It sounds like most of these forces are civilians, who I’m willing to bet don’t have the strength or skill to fight a cape. It’d be an unfair battle. Perhaps aiming for the Merchants themselves may be good?

Speaking of the consequences of Leviathan’s attack, Empire Eighty-Eight is gone, it divided into two factions.

“One of two major offshoots of the Aryan villain group, Empire Eighty-Eight, which fell apart after the death of their leader, Kaiser.  Fenrir’s Chosen are led by Hookwolf.  Violent, utterly merciless, and reveling in the current chaos.”

One offshoot is violent and with brute force, the other is more diplomatic but no less despicable. Unfortunately for Brockton Bay, Hookwolf’s faction has a lot of parahumans. I don’t think Hookwolf has any of the traits that made Kaiser a dangerously competent leader, but sometimes brute force can be enough to tilt the scales on your favor. Purity and her faction aren’t faring very well in their diplomatic plans, the Protectorate have rejected every offer of help they did, and Weld is forbidden of accepting anything from her.

“Noted. Let’s see…  Coil, powers unknown.  The Travelers have high ratings on their powers, but their crimes are low end, pretty much.  There’s the Undersiders… three Master classifications in one team.”

They have no information on Coil. He’ll be pleased. In fact, I bet Coil already knows. But hey, the Protectorate are aware of his existence, that’s a start. The Travelers’ classification isn’t told at all and seem to be considered low-priority. Even though the Undersiders have three Master parahumans – Taylor, Alec and...Rachel? I think, yeah – they’re also low-priority. If I had to guess, I’d say Coil prefers it this way.

Faultline’s Crew are pretty much a nonentity. I still want to see more about them.

Onto more mundane matters. Weld will attend Arcadia High School. The teachers have been informed about his nature. What Piggot isn’t sure about is how other students will react to Weld. It’s not like everyone will know he is a Ward, so—

Weld looked down at his hands.  His body, from skin to hair to bone, was all metal and alloys of varying types.  “I’ve dealt with it before, I’ll manage.”

...oh. Okay. Looks like...even when he’s not actively being a hero he still is made of metal. Alright! That’s...that kinda is the type of detail that’d be nice to know much earlier, Mr. Wildbow. No wonder he weighs so much! And it’d be rather difficult for anyone at school not to know he is a Ward. This kid here...it’s impossible he has a private life.

Each Ward receives an allowance and a salary that gets added to a trust fund. Weld’s room has been examined and confirmed not to have any exposed metal, because when he touches metal his body immediately bonds to it, forcing him to absorb it or shed a part of himself. Sounds rather inconvenient, yeah.

The reason why Piggot and everyone else bother to accommodate Weld – and other capes, I suppose – is because they want to help society and the world accommodate parahumans better. Now that’s unlikely. With so many different types of parahuman powers, with so many villains and heroes, it’d be impossible to create a world where parahumans can be fully integrated, no matter how many accommodations are made. Honestly, it seems to me the most parahumans can aspire to is to be treated like heroic figures. That’d give them the love and appreciation of the public. Other than that...yeah, civilian identities will be needed.

Piggot shows a rare moment of empathy when she accepts not to slightly demean the director of parahumans matters in Boston, because he is a father figure to Weld. Nice! And then back to Piggot’s theories on what to do with parahumans and society. One word: PR.

“As the number of parahumans first became clear, a long-term plan was established. In the early phases of the plan, much effort was dedicated to setting up the Protectorate and Wards, ensuring the public had heroes they could look up to, likable faces, likable personalities. Merchandising, interviews, tv shows, music, movies and more were all encouraged and supported with the idea of building up this image.  Law, policy and rules for the official groups were all shaped with the idea of gradually building confidence in heroes.”

All this sound like long-term plans. But yeah, the early phases were to introduce parahumans as heroes the general public could rely on. It doesn’t sound too different from what’s done with comic book heroes and the such, just that instead of promoting a fictional character as rolemodel and helpful to society and people, these are real capes people can see and find out about. In other words: it’ll be much harder than promoting any old comic book hero.

The next part of the plan is to promote the existence of rogues, parahumans who aren’t affiliated to heroes or villains, they just go on with their lives and powers. It’d be easier to integrate rogues if you didn’t arrest and send them to the Birdcage like you did to Canary, guys. I can’t imagine rogues and society will feel very encouraged if something like that is known around.

This is a sensitive subject, slow to advance, as major corporations are particularly litigious when parahumans get involved.  In simple terms, the big businesses do not want people with powers affecting the status quo, and it is very easy for them to derail years of work with one bad media campaign targeting parahumans.”

“I see,” Weld commented.  He didn’t like that in simple terms bit of what she’d said.  Too many people implied he was stupid because he was strong.  But could he really speak up about it, when he couldn’t be sure if her choice of words came from an offensive or judgemental perspective?  Or was he being overly sensitive?

I think that fits under ‘overly sensitive’, but it’s understandable and he shouldn’t be blamed for that. I think I’d be a bit bristled, yeah.

“-but you have fans, and people are interested in you.  You get higher ratings for your interviews than even the average handsome hero gets.  You’re second most popular for team leaders for number of youtube videos, possibly helped by a briefly lived internet meme featuring your face, and you have a blemish-free record, both academically and in your two years serving as a part of the Wards.”

You know how odd it is to see something like ‘hey, the number of YouTube videos about you means you’re popular, and there’s also this meme with your face, way to go’ in a superhero story? These are the wonders of the modern world. I suppose it’s no surprise Piggot talks about it. The Protectorate and the Wards seem rather focused on positive PR and all that. Of course she’d be happy to see someone who is in good standings with the public. Not that good PR will replace skill and leadership. His bright future will have to depend on how good he does with this Ward team.

Weld is an eager beaver, charming!

“One.  I was hoping to arrange interstate training sessions with the New York and Boston Wards groups.  As far as I’m aware, the local team doesn’t do this.  They barely have regular situation training.”

Sounds like a decent proposal as long as those other teams have a teleporter cape to bring them all to Brockton Bay. Piggot doesn’t consider it necessary or a priority – and she tries to fight, but Weld is assertive and argues he is willing to deal with the paperwork and the reports. Nice! He’s already taking leadership and doing stuff that hasn’t been done before! He’ll have a bright future if he continues like this.

It’ll have to be done during their free time. Good luck convincing the rest from joining you, buddy. I doubt heroes have much free time, they may be reticent to let it go, no matter how fun whatever you have in mind will be.

Once they arrive, Piggot offers to go introduce him to everyone, he decides to go by himself because Piggot isn’t known for her friendliness and good standing with the Wards. Good decision…I thiiiink…? Arriving to the right place was simple enough. The team is all there, with their masks off. Time for the first impression! A greeting, received with the usual tepid salutations any teenager would give. It may be because they’re tired, though. Vista is injured, too.

“From everything I’ve heard, you guys are an excellent team, and I hope I can do you justice as a leader.  It’s my hope that we can improve on a winning formula.  I’ve talked to the director about some special training-”

“Training?” Clockblocker interrupted, “You just lost me.”

Whooops! That went by like a lead balloon. It’s not that everyone here hates training or anything like that, it’s just that the current times aren’t going to give enough liberty to have fun like Weld wants to. Not that he had time to explain what he had in mind. Pessimism is heavy, even Shadow Stalker feels the riots and disturbed civilians are going to be a permanent fixture. They even have anecdotes about what’s going on out there. It’s every bit as dire as I feared.

“Pull a fifteen hour patrol out there, then come back and talk to me about hope,” Clockblocker spoke.  “You know, I could almost play along.  Go with the blind optimism, say yippee to training.  But you don’t even mention the guy you’re replacing?  A few words for the dead?  It’s a matter of respect, bro.”

He’s got a point there. It’d have been respectful to say a few words. Nothing fancy, something like ‘I know I won’t ever be able to truly replace your former leader’ may have worked. Not that…it’s particularly poignant. I doubt there’s really a right way to bring up this topic.

“I didn’t mean to dismiss them or their sacrifice.  I just didn’t know them, and-”

That right there just made me wince. Bad move, Weld, it kind of implies you need to know them in order to give a few words of respect. It makes you look a tad standoffish. This guy is ruining the first impression already, and it’s not like he’s doing that on purpose. No surprise Clockblocker gets angry and goes out, making a point to turn his back to Weld before addressing the rest. Nobody else is even trying to pay attention to him, agreeing on what they’ll do during the next few hours.

Vista actually tries to be kind with the new guy, telling him everyone is just tired and that maybe Clockblocker simply didn’t give him enough time to mention Aegis and Gallant. Weld proceeds to ruin this lifeline by saying:

“Right,” Weld replied, feeling lost, “Aegis and Gallant.  They’re the ones who died?”

He didn’t shove his foot in his mouth, he unhinged his jaw and swallowed his whole leg. Man, dealing with the Wards during the city’s awful situation and while everyone is tired will truly be a test of character. Good luck, Weld, you’re going to need it. He immediately starts studying the stack of files Piggot gave him, and that’s where the chapter ends.

Well this sure is a change of pace! A new point of view, from the diametrically opposite faction to the Undersiders. It’s good to see how the hero side is faring under the strain of Brockton Bay being a disaster zone, that gives a whole new perspective to this place and its problems. He’s going to have such a hard time I already feel pity for him.

I’ll continue next time.

Next update: next time

[uottawashowgoer-blog]

Othello (Post-Show)

Unfortunately, I have far more critical comments than praises to be said about this production, and much like telling an employee they did not get the promotion, I will start with the good news and move to the bad. 

I was astonished at how well the caste knew their lines. It is no easy feat memorizing nearly three hours of monologues, soliloquies, and intricate dialogue in a dialect found on the fringes of one’s language. I certainly left the Gladstone feeling a deep sense of relief that I would likely never find myself in a situation where I would have to carry out such memorization. Unfortunately, I also left feeling a deep sense of relief that the play was over. I can only say it kept me on the edge of my seat because if I had refrained from sitting forward, I would have nodded off well before intermission. 

For anyone who has never been to the Gladstone, it is hot. Very hot. Upon buying my tickets, the Gladstone Theatre website informed me that they are fundraising for a new ventilation system for their building and patrons could donate a few dollars upon their purchase. I refrained and thought nothing of it. But my god - never have I been so acutely aware of my physical discomfort as an audience member (the two patrons who had sat to my left had neglected to return for the second half). To make matters worse, the seats were as close together as possible with minimal legroom. Thank my lucky stars I refrained from bringing a backpack. But silver linings are everywhere of course, so long as you catch the light at the right angle. The theatre staff were lovely and the bar had Shakespeare-specific signature cocktails. That was fun. And I must keep in mind that Theatre Kraken had no part to play in the theatre’s physical state.

Theatre Kraken did however, have a part to play in the bizarre creative choices made for the production. As I stated in my previous post, I am far from a Shakespeare expert, in fact, I would likely distance myself from the Shakespeare experts should we happen upon the same cocktail party - but it only takes a theatre novice to realize that this was, on the whole, a poorly executed production. 

I do not wish to go into detail on every qualm I have (for they are many) but I want to discuss here a few of the more substantial ones. Theatre Kraken’s Othello was not visibly North-African. He was not visibly white either (silver linings are everywhere), but he would probably stand out in a room full of Moors. Is Ottawa’s Shakespeare acting community not as diverse as I imagine? If so, then the casting director(s) can hardly be blamed, but if not, then I should very much like to ask them a few questions. This is a play largely focused on race issues, and this deeply undermined the production’s potential to hit this theme. To weigh down this sinking ship, they chose to give Othello a very thick southern drawl... and an American ranger Stratton hat... Why? I suppose because it went with the accent? But why the accent? Well that is a whole other can of worms...

Let’s crack that open shall we?

From what I gathered, the director was attempting to merge the world of Civil War America with turn of the 17th century southern Europe. This was made apparent not only by Othello’s character, but also by the American slave songs interspersed throughout the show. But of course, this play is set in a time that predates the transatlantic slave trade, and even if it didn’t, why would you, as a director, choose to make Othello American without writing out his Moorish identity? Probably because anything more than the minor alterations to Shakespeare walks a line between theatrical heresy and impossibly difficult. 

The worst of it, in my opinion, was the choice to add a (wholly uncalled-for) a cappella number sung by the complete caste during curtain call. It was beautiful... and incredibly strange. Not only did it awkwardly cut the audience’s (somewhat forced) applause in half, it seemed painfully irrelevant to the plot. Sure, Othello is supposed to be this liberated slave, and this song was sung from the perspective of a slave, but the song’s narrative was blatantly concerned with American identity and the abolition movement. Watching nine white people and one non-black person of colour sing a slave song that effectively conflated Othello’s plight with that of an unnamed American slave was probably offensive to at least some members of the audience. For myself, it was just a face-palm inducing sight. 

Frankly, it seemed as if the creatives for this show never bothered googling “Moor” or “transatlantic slave trade”. I really do understand the effect they were trying to achieve. But it simply failed. And horribly at that. 

P.s. the actor for Iago was phenomenal - hands down one of the best portrayals of genuinely insane antagonist I have ever seen. Well done Iago. Well done.