#east west players

[travsd]

Hangin' with James Hong

February 22 is the birthday of respected veteran character actor James Hong (b. 1929). He’s 95 as I pen this, and still toiling at what he loves, which is pretty incredible. Hong’s father owned a Chinese restaurant in Minneapolis and was the leader of the local Tong. Hong was born and raised in that city, although some of his early schooling was in Hong Kong. (Consider this starting fact — Hong…

[hihi-hello]

East West Players' Pacific Overtures 2024

(Pictures, video, and personal notes)

Poster featuring Jon Jon Briones and Gede Watanabe. Briones plays The Reciter while Watanabe here is the Shogun's Mother. The latter is Pacific Overtures alumni, having played the original Boy during "Someone in a Tree".

Another look at John John Briones as The Reciter.

The Shogun's court. Interesting things to note here:

There are several on-stage musicians at the left balcony. They're dressed in traditional wear, akin to musicians found in Kabuki. They seem to have taiko drums and a koto. The percussionist likely has other instruments on-hand.

The top half of the set is used to project images. Here, it displays the palace setting.

Here, Manjiro is wearing makeup. In later scenes, we see him without. Perhaps this is to better show the ongoing westernization? This production is also the first in a long while to have actors wear Kabuki makeup. No, all-white productions do not count.

The visual design is uses traditional motifs like screens and traditional patterns. The set resembles a sunrise over the ocean. However, it is relatively modern, compared to other Pacific Overtures sets. Sometimes, they use various high-saturated colors, colored lights, and projections. This is pehaps to keep interesting visuals and help bridge the gap between the past and present Japan. Of course, there are other reasons...

The Shogun's chambers.

His wife is seen playing her koto. In some productions, they have her with a servant who plays the koto for her singing.

Kayama Izaemon (Right) and John Manjiro (Left) during "Poems".

I'm assuming this is during Poems since Manjiro holds what appears to be Tanzaku, japanese cardstock often used to write wishes or poetry.

Manjiro is also wearing a haori over his old western outfit, showing his budding re-assimilation into Japanese society and culture.

Madam and the Girls during the song "Welcome to Kanagawa".

Here, the Girls are portrayed by both men and women equally. Previous productions have done all men (Original), most women with one guy as the most chastised one (Original Japanese & Broadway Revival), and all women (2nd Japanese and West End revival). This is the first recorded time when there's an equal amount of men and women for the Girls.

The girls have distinctly cartoonishly extravagant outfits and wigs. Other outfits have been much more grounded. Recent productions have made the Girls' appearances intentionally silly, as to better convey their comedic and over-the-top personalities.

Also I choose to call them "The Girls", as written in the script. The official page lists them as "Geisha". I'm against this, as these characters are clearly prostitutes and Geisha are commonly misidentified as such, leading to misinformation and misbehavior towards the profession.

The Reciter and the Old Man at the start of "Someone in a Tree".

The old man here wears a flat cap with his kimono. Prior versions have the hat be a bowler or a boater hat. This is to show that the man grew up long enough to see the early 20th century Japan.

In the 1st Japanese production and Broadway revival, the old man instead held a wooden stick staff and a long head of hair and beard. I guess the idea was to give the man an otherworldly feel, since there, he's more heavily implied to be a ghost.

The projection displays a wooden house on a beach, with a cliffside tree looming over it.

This was a preview performance of Someone in a Tree by East West Players, featuring Gede Watanabe. Interestingly, none of the other actors are in the production. Perhaps they were brought in just for this performance or they ended up dropping out.

Commodore Mathew Calbraith Perry during "The Lion Dance".

Well, he has a long, wild, lion-like wig. Otherwise, his outfit is completely different from anything prior.

Perry usually wears an navy officer's jacket, commonly with kimono-like sleeves. But here, he's in a body stocking with a painted-on torso. His bottom half has a fringe...something barbaric, probably. He's wearing some more modern shoes. Am I forgetting anything...?

Oh yeah. His freaking BUSTER SWORD!?! Like, that's just straight-up Final Fantasy's Cloud Strife's giant ass sword!! He also seems to have leather straps around his arms. I guess a holder for the sword???

My guess is that they're not only showcasing Japan's westernization but also its modernization and future, our modern day. They will create Final Fantasy and everything we have today!!

...Insane new direction and I'm all for it, for as weird as it is!

The Imperial Court in Kyoto. Going from left to right, Manjiro, Kayama, the priests, the Emperor, and Lord Abe.

It took me a while to figure out which of the two guys was Kayama and Manjiro, due to the lighting and that they're both dressed in samurai dress. But I figured out that Manjiro's wearing a more torn and wrinkled outfit. It's not as smooth and the shoulder's are more droopy.

Now with a decently closer look, Lord Abe is played by a woman, Kerry K. Carnahan! This falls in line with the recent Japanese and West End production.

The stage projects an painting of the sun goddess Amaterasu, referencing the imperial family claiming her as their ancestor.

The Emperor puppet has no face, only two indents for eyes. He's also on a pedestal, I suppose so the actors don't have to sit down and to give room for The Reciter's reveal as the grown-up Emperor Meiji.

The fencing master's daughter during "Pretty Lady".

She's played by Ashley En-Fu Matthews, the same actress as Tamate and the Merchant's son.

Ensemble during the final song "Next", all dressed in modern clothing. We have a whole bunch of references here! Going from left to right:

Ash Ketchum or Satoshi from the Pokemon anime, complete with a Pikachu doll.

Tanjiro Kamado from Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba. I'm assuming the two are meant to be cosplayers and not the actual anime characters.

Gede Watanabe as Yayoi Kusama, a Japanese contemporary artist known for her dot motif and signature bright red hair.

A race car driver, wearing a jumpsuit displaying the motorsport division "Toyota Gazoo Racing" and several sponsers. Can't identify a specific driver.

Shohei Ohtani, a Japanese player for the Los Angeles Dodgers of Major League Baseball. Either that or a big fan of the player.

I'm assuming that's Kayama and Tamate projected above, in place of the common ending of them coming on-stage to fish.

Got any photos or additional changes you've seen of the actual proudction? Any additional observations? Please share them with me!

[thenerdsofcolor]

'Crazy Talented Asians' Returns to East West Players!

East West Players, in partnership with AJ Rafael, is thrilled to announce the return of Crazy Talented Asians. This variety benefit show will take place on Saturday, August 17, 2024, at East West Players’ David Henry Hwang Theater, just in time for Nisei Week and the 140th Anniversary of Little Tokyo, as well as the arrival of the theatre’s new artistic director Lily Tung Crystal. There’s going…

[aficionadoenthusiast]

tv companies asking for public support against the strike as if I don't have dvds going back to the 1970s and enough fanfiction to last me into the 2070s

[heartandmusic]

old white men will be like back in my day when tv wasnt woke or political. and theyll be specifically reminiscing about the anti war pro gay sex jokes crossdressing and meatball surgery variety power hour

[dinosaurwithablog]

I had said that the match up between the Yankees and the Dodgers was the series that I wanted to see the most because it was the best in the east against the best in the west and I was right. Aaron Judge was voted AL Player of the week, and Teoscar Hernandez was voted NL Player of the week. Congratulations, Teoscar!!! You're amazing. Aaron Judge is in s class by himself. He had a .500 batting average with an OPS over 1.8 and 12 RBIs and 3 home runs!!! That's incredible!! Who does that? Aaron Judge, that's who!! Way to go, Aaron!!! You're the best baseball player that has ever played the game, and you do it naturally... No performance enhancing drugs. You're the greatest. It's a joy to watch you play. 😊 thank you for all that you do. You're a great leader for your team and a really nice guy besides being a monster on the field. That's why they call you the Captain. Let's go, Aaron, and let's go Yankees!!!!!

[xbladekitkat85]

very bad at being active on tumblr lately, whoops lmao

[jiriceks]

the cbj coaching news is probably gonna push me to watch the nba like the filipino gods intended. why i decided to watch a sport played on ice in a country with four sheets of ice total is a mystery.

[gerritcole-coded]

Okay so I made the mistake of checking Yankees twitter and everyone is panicking and being salty assholes. So I'm choosing to be an annoyingly optimistic ride or die fan this season.

[homebrewhighway]

This is fantastic advice but I'm quite partial to just moving content from point A to point B. Usually better just to talk about it but I'll occasionally have missable mini dungeons, encounters, or vaults you can find behind a puzzle, in secret passageways or just off the beaten path and it wouldn't be the same if I just told my players where they are.

My thinking is nobody wants to be TOLD there's a secret chest behind a waterfall- way better if the party discovers it themselves but if they never look its cool to just do it again later. Same logic applies to story events and narrative ideas.

straight up do not understand DMs complaining about their players ‘totally ignoring the plot and going to do something else’ for a lot of reasons but the one on my mind right now is, like

you can just talk to your players about what they want to do next. like it’s not hard. you can just say “hey guys you get to decide as a party what investigative arc you want to take on next, you have something like five real options, all of which represent 5-10 sessions of content, it’s totally up to you, follow your hearts, just let me know in advance so I can prepare the right material for yall. DMing is a lot of work so I appreciate the heads up about what major endeavor you want to take on next. talk amongst yourselves and let me know your decision. make good choices, I love you.”

it’s not a sign of weakness to be like “yeah the entire world isn’t 100% built out to the minutest detail, I’m not going to design Andrei’s vacation home until I know you’re going to it.” my players assume that I know all of the big picture stuff, they trust me to keep all the details that are made up session by session consistent, and they know that the more they telegraph their intentions to me, the better the game will be. If they want to do something wild, like steal a car and drive 50 miles to go to a house they haven’t seen in 5 sessions, they message me during the week to be like, “Hey, I think Dunya wants to do this.” and I’m like, great, thanks for letting me know. Now something cool will happen when you do.

I think a lot of inexperienced DMs have the wrong idea about what ‘DM omniscience’ is supposed to look like. if I introduce something to them - say if a PC has a strange note slipped to them that says Do we find in you a friend of the Old Believers? - the players need to believe that they can interact with this note in any way possible, and the world will respond consistently. They need to believe that the Old Believers are a real group of people that they can deal with in any way they can think of. They need to believe that whoever sent this note had a logical reason for doing so. They need to believe that if they ask, “hey, wait a minute, what about X?” in any respect in regards to the note, I will have an immediate answer, and that the answer will be consistent with the rest of the world as they have experienced it.

DM omniscience does not mean that if they all just randomly get on a plane to Singapore, they should reasonably expect me to have a session’s worth of content waiting for them there. They can go to Singapore. They absolutely can go to Singapore. The rest of our time this evening is now us having a conversation about why you went to Singapore, and what you hope to achieve while you are there, and then you all go home and I get a week to create that content.

If my players walk into a bar, I describe a couple of likelies for them to talk to, and they go “who else is here?” - wanting to talk to a person I haven’t created yet - I turn it back around on them. What kind of person are you looking for? It’s a crowded bar, there are like 200 people here. Are you looking for a man, a woman, someone young or old, someone playing cards, what are you hoping to achieve? I don’t have 200 people locked and loaded. My players know that. They don’t believe that they could line up everyone in this bar and talk to each and every one of them and get their life story. And they know it would be incredibly antagonistic of them to try. They know that what they CAN do is tell me what they want, and why, and then they can talk to that person.

like, this whole exercise is collaborative. if your players want maximum choice, that means they need to give you guidance. you’re not a mind reader, and you’ve got a life to live outside of the game. 

it’s not a big deal to tell your players that they can do anything they want, so long as they tell you what that is.

[baddawg94]

[suchacomet]

BABE WAKE UP POTENTIAL NEW FAVORITE MORITZ JUST DROPPED

[zyafics]

MASTERLIST: RAFE CAMERON

ᯓᡣ𐭩 mood boards

✦ ethnic gfs | all east asian ༯˖. south asian ༯˖. middle eastern ༯˖. west african ༯˖. southeast asian ༯˖. filipina ༯˖. albanian ༯˖. east african ༯˖. brazilian ༯˖. mexican ༯˖. spaniard ༯˖. syrian ༯˖. afrolatina ༯˖. tongan ༯˖. wasian ༯˖. moroccan ༯˖. armenian ༯˖. egyptian ༯˖. algerian ༯˖.

✦ finish line | fic, blurb, #maybank!reader

✦ all american sinners, pt. 2 | fic, blurb, #sex addict!reader

✦ good girl gone wild | fic, blurb, #sorority!reader

✦ angry god | fic, blurb

ᯓᡣ𐭩 social medias aus

✦ HEARTBREAK: LIVE | sfw, fluff + angst

radio host!reader, ex-lovers┆after a breakup, you went incongito. now, you're back in the spotlight with a new radio show. and the whole world listening.

01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • 05 • 06 • 07 • 08 • 09 • 10 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 • 18 • 19 • 20 21 • 22 • 23 • 24 • 25 • 26 • 27 • 28 • 29 • 30 31 •

extras — after | when reader has rafe blocked on all social medias — after | when it's national text an ex day — during | when reader posts about rafe on ig — during | reader and rafe's clay date night — after | reader watching their edit

ᯓᡣ𐭩 imagines

✦ tlc | rafe hollering at you from the passenger side of his friend's car

ᯓᡣ𐭩 drabbles

✦ headspace | sfw + fluff

established relationship, academic weapon!reader┆when rafe comforts you regarding your upcoming exam.

✦ proofs | sfw + fluff

established relationship, academic weapon!reader┆when you need rafe's help to finish a math homework.

✦ mangos | sfw + fluff

established relationship, vietnamese!reader┆when your spice tolerance is different from your boyfriend's.

✦ white picket fence | sfw + fluff

established relationship, dad!rafe | when your baby daughter wakes rafe up, he goes to comfort her.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 oneshots

✦ stay the night | nsfw + fluff

fwb to lovers┆if rafe sees you as a fuck buddy, then you're going to remind him what that truly means.

✦ reality check | request, nsfw + fluff

bsf to lovers┆when rafe gets a buzzcut, it changes how you view your best friend.

✦ finish line | nsfw

older sister maybank!reader, racing rivals┆when your little brother has to forfeit a race against rafe, he seeks your help to replace him and win.

✦ dirty air | nsfw

older sister maybank!reader, fuck buddies┆when rafe wants you as a booty call, you're going to make him work for it.

✦ te amo | nsfw + fluff

mexican!reader┆after a fight with his father, rafe shows up to your door for comfort.

✦ all for the game | request, sfw + angst

reporter!reader, basketball player!rafe┆when you get the chance to interview your first athlete, it turns out to be none other than your ex-boyfriend, rafe.

✦ whatever she wants | request, nsfw

bitchy!kook!reader┆you always wanted rafe, and when he finally came to you, you expect nothing but the best experience.

✦ shotgun wedding | nsfw + fluff

maybank!reader, fuck buddies┆when rafe suddenly has the idea to get married.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 series

✦ brother's rival | in progress, nsfw

brother's rival, secret romance┆when your brother is determined to steal something important from the king of kooks, rafe is going to return the favor.

01 • 02

✦ play fake | in progress, nsfw + angst

fake dating┆when rafe needs to secure a girlfriend, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • 05 • 06 • 07 • 08 • 09 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 / END

— extras: 3.5 • 5.5

✦ angry god | sfw + angst

twin flames┆when rafe discovers you're more like him than he realizes, he'll do anything to have you.

01 • 02 • 03 / END

✦ dead man walking | oneshot (for now), nsfw + angst

mafia boss!rafe, reluctant allies┆when a shootout injury is more life-threatening than it appears, you have to save rafe or lose your life.

01 •

[thenerdsofcolor]

A Los Angeles Theatre Review: 'Unbroken Blossoms'

There is a sense of tragedy to acknowledge that whenever there is progress made with any given historically underrepresented community in the United States, history always finds a way to repeat itself. Are we doomed to keep repeating that cycle? Such is the question presented in the East West Players production of Unbroken Blossoms, a world premiere play written by Philip W. Chung and directed by…

[theemporium]

[5.1k] an off-putting interaction with a supposed fan leaves jack cursed and, somehow, you find yourself in the middle of it. because acting like your enemy's girlfriend to not aggravate a curse is totally normal, right?

[find other fright night specials here]

.

It was well known by all that you and Jack Hughes did not like each other. 

If anything, that was an understatement about how the two of you felt about each other. It was one of those things that everyone knew: the sky was blue, the sun rose in the east and set in the west, and Jack Hughes was the bane of your fucking existence. 

You couldn’t quite remember a time when he wasn’t a pain in your ass. Since the day you joined the Devils team, the boy seemed to have it out for you and you returned the attitude. You were constantly at each other’s throats—much to the other boys’ entertainment—bickering and arguing and snapping. 

It was one of the safest bets you could make—especially on game days.

“Dude, I just had the weirdest fucking fan experience of my life!”

You didn’t hold back the urge to roll your eyes, your attention focused on the clipboard in your hands rather than the boy who had barrelled over and interrupted you. “Jesus, I thought players were meant to be mellow and calm before a game.” 

“Maybe that’s just what they tell you because you’re boring,” Jack retorted, flashing you a smile that was as irritating as it was charming. “And I wasn’t even talking to you. I was talking—”

“To my patient,” you bit out, turning your attention back to Dawson who was looking between the two of you with a slightly awkward but apprehensive expression. “Now, like I was asking before we were interrupted, the tension in your—”

“She was so weird,” Jack continued on, his lips twitching when he noticed the heavy sigh you let out but he kept going, facing forward towards Dawson as his shoulder brushed against yours. “I was coming out of the carpark and—”

Dawson’s nose scrunched up. “She was in the player carpark?”

“Yes!” Jack exclaimed, his eyes widening. “That’s what I’m saying, she already snuck in there and then she kept saying something but I couldn’t understand a word. So, I tried to politely—”

You snorted.

“—tell her that I was running late,” Jack continued, shooting you a quick but dirty look as he did. “But then she just started muttering to herself and waved her hands at me before walking away.” 

“Sounds like you broke a sweet old woman’s heart,” Dawson commented, grinning a little when Jack smacked his arm.

“Shut up,” Jack murmured, though his cheeks flushed pink in response. “I was already running late—”

“No surprise there,” you added.

“—I just didn’t have time,” Jack defended, once again shooting you a dirty look. “But it was weird, bro. She had some weird juju.”

Dawson pressed his lips together to hold back his laughter. “Juju?”

“Juju!” Jack repeated with a nod.

“I think you’re letting the guilt get to you, bro,” Dawson said, shaking his head in amusement. “You should head in to get ready for the game. Pretty sure Coach was asking Nico where you—”

“And you just let me stand here and talk?” Jack hissed, his eyes wide before he began rushing down the hallway towards the locker room. “What the fuck, Merc?!” 

“Always blaming everyone but himself,” you huffed, shaking your head. “Typical.”

Dawson grinned a little. “You know, people say that tension is a great aphrodisiac.” 

You shot him a blank look. “The only tension I am interested in is the kind in your muscles. Now, you gonna tell me how your hamstring is feeling or should I tell Coach to scrap you from the game?” 

Dawson quickly zipped his mouth shut.

…

It happened too fast for anyone to comprehend. 

There was five minutes left of the third period, the Devils were up one goal but it was still close. The Jets were putting up more of a fight than they anticipated, pulling moves and hits that were rough and dirty and tiring out the Devils far faster than they would have liked. 

Jack’s whole body was screaming, his heart pounding in his chest and his brain clinging onto the fact that it was almost over. Just a few more minutes until the final buzzer sounded, they just needed to make sure they didn’t let the other team score. That was all. Just tire them out in the last few minutes and they could clinch the win. 

He was so focused on thinking defensively, on thinking what would keep the Jets moving and chasing that he hadn’t even noticed the player barrelling towards him until it was too late. 

The referees blew the whistle too late, Jack’s whole body lurching with the hit as he felt himself get smacked up against the glass before he hit the ice. He felt as though someone had dunked his head underwater, his hearing muffled and his senses disoriented as he tried to scramble up onto his feet. As he tried to show that he was okay and he could keep playing. 

But the pain that ripped through his head when he tried to stand prevented him from doing so. 

“Give him space!” 

“Someone get the medics!” 

“Jack? You good?”

“He looks like he is gonna throw up!” 

Jack could feels hands on him. He could hear voices and he could hear the concern, even if he couldn’t lift his head to work out who was talking to him. He couldn’t do anything but groan and clench his eyes shut and hope that somebody would just make his head stop pounding.

He didn’t even remember how he got off the ice but he was grateful for the darkness in the medic room, the determination to finish the game as a win no longer at the top of his priority list. 

…

You knew the Devils took a chance on you when they offered you the job, but you liked to think you lived up to their expectations. 

You were fresh out of college, lost and intimidated and a degree in physiotherapy in your hands that you didn’t quite know what to do with. You had seen the opening in the Devils’ team by chance, and had applied for the sake of just having the experience of applying. You never considered getting an interview, or for them to like you. 

You never considered that they would take a chance on a student fresh out of college, offering a place under the current head of the team to shadow for a few years before fully taking over the position. 

But life had funny ways of working out and the job with the Devils was one of them.

You had been with the team for almost three years now. You were hardworking and diligent and you performed the roles of your job and beyond. You were a good employee. You knew you were. 

Which is why you were utterly baffled by the fact you were being dragged down the hallway instead of preparing your office for the players' cooldown massages and checkups. 

“What did I do? Are they angry at me? Was there a report I forgot to hand in?” You questioned the boy pulling you, nerves bubbling up in your stomach and you suddenly regretted the pretzel you ate during the second period. 

“No, no, it’s just—” Nico paused, his brows furrowing together. “I can’t really explain it. You just gotta see it.” 

“See what?” You questioned, your eyes darting over the boy’s shoulder to see him leading you towards the medic rooms. “Why are you bringing me here? Did someone pull something?” 

“It’s Jack,” Nico replied, like that explained anything.

“Did Jack pull something?” You asked, albeit a bit desperately. Your patience was already thin and the vague replies were starting to test you. “Nico, tell me what’s wrong? I thought Jack was just on concussion watch, Susan said—” 

“Just,” Nico paused outside the room, grimacing a little. “Just play along, yeah?” 

You opened your mouth, a dozen more questions on the tip of your tongue but it was that very moment the door swung open. 

“Baby, there you are! Where have you been?” 

You blinked, staring at Jack who was currently sitting up on one of the medic beds, grinning happily at you. Then your eyes shifted to the team doctor who looked sheepish, a similar expression shared by the coaching staff beside her. And finally, your eyes landed on Luke who was standing beside Jack’s bed, looking like he was seconds away from laughing (an expression you weren’t expecting on the brother of someone who took a very bad hit).

Nico cleared his throat, nudging you forward. “Found her!”

You stumbled forward, still utterly confused at the odd looks you were receiving from everyone in the room. “What? Was something broken in the hit or something?”

“Baby,” Jack groaned, though it sounded fond and sweet as he reached his hand out towards you. “Stop thinking about work for two seconds, will you? C’mere, I missed you. They said you were too busy to see me just after the hit.” 

You blinked. “Are you talking to me?” 

Jack raised his brows in amusement. “Is there another girlfriend I have that I’ve forgotten about?” 

“Girlfriend?” You repeated, your jaw almost hitting the ground. “I am—”

“Very much his girlfriend who loves him very much,” Nico interrupted, stepping forward and giving you a look you were starting to understand. “And who must be very concerned after he took that big hit that could have gone badly and could have affected his memory.”

Your lips parted slightly as everything clicked.

“Geez, Hisch, way to look at things in a glass half empty kinda way,” Jack laughed before lifting his hand out to you. “Baby, m’fine. Don’t listen to him.”

You had half the mind to shoot Luke a glare as you closed the distance between you and took Jack’s hand in yours, ignoring the snickering from the younger Hughes. You swallowed harshly, turning to look at the team doctor instead of Jack.

“So, doc, what’s the consensus?” 

The team doctor gave you a sheepish smile. “He’s been cursed.” 

You blinked. “Yeah, no shit.” 

“Shit, can you tell?” Jack frowned, lifting his other hand to touch his face. “Do I have warts on my face or something? Oh god, do you still think I’m hot?” 

“I—” You flashed him a slightly strained smile. “Still hot, babe.” 

“Oh, it gets better,” Luke mumbled under his breath. 

Jack beamed in response. 

“The hit should have been a standard hit, the Jets player wasn’t even skating fast enough to cause the…damage Jack is experiencing,” the doctor continued. “We suspected foul play and did a few additional tests. It seemed like Jack had a curse manifesting throughout the game but the brunt of the curse didn’t hit until mid-play. And whoever cursed him seemed to have it out for him because it took the environment around him and made it worse—hence, the Jets player’s hit seeming harder, the force he hit the glass and the pain caused by the hit.” 

You frowned. “So, what do we do? How do we…un-curse him?” 

“You can’t,” Luke jumped in, smiling far too wide for your liking. “Doc says we just have to let the curse play out.” 

“I hardly feel cursed,” Jack said dismissively. “What, a rough hit? That’s it? Some curse. Everything else is normal.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. 

“Until then,” the doctor continued. “I strongly advise doing anything that would…agitate the curse. It could make things worse. We got lucky with the…limited inconveniences.” 

Despite her cryptic words, you understood the message loud and clear. 

Play along and be his girlfriend until his memory returned to normal or else god knows what will happen.

You just wondered what you did to deserve being cursed along with him. 

…

“I bet it was that old lady before the game.”

You lifted your head to find Jack lounging on the massage bed in your office, staring at the ceiling as he continued to contemplate. You had mentioned to him that you needed to finish some paperwork before leaving for the day. 

You expected him to head back to his apartment with Luke, not stay behind with you.

Luke just cackled when Jack decided to stay with you. 

Your brows furrowed together. “Who?”

“The weird old lady that I told you and Dawson about before the game,” Jack said, turning his head to look back at you. “The one who I said had bad juju?” 

And of course he would remember that, just not the fact you weren’t his girlfriend.

Stupid curse. 

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded, leaning back in your seat. “So, what? You didn’t take a photo with her and she curses you? Seems a bit harsh.” 

“Maybe she didn’t like the fact I told her I wasn’t available,” Jack teased, winking at you.

It took every tensed muscle in your body to stop you from scrunching your nose in response. 

“Seems likely,” you replied with a strained smile on your face once more. “Right, I’m done here. Do you want a lift back?” 

Jack laughed, pushing himself to sit up. “Yeah, unless you expect me to walk back to your place and meet you there.”

You froze. “You’re coming back to mine?”

“Duh,” Jack said, his brows furrowing a little at your reaction. “Like I do after every game, babe. This isn’t new. Are you feeling okay?” 

“Yeah, just—” You waved him off, focusing on tidying up your desk instead. “Tired. I think I slept badly.” 

“Aw, baby,” Jack cooed, and it was odd hearing it in a sweet, concerning way rather than the condescending tone you were used to. “S’fine, you’ve got me tonight. Bet you’ll sleep like a baby.” 

“Definitely,” you agreed, making a mental note to strangle Luke the next time he came in for a deep muscle massage.

…

“Uh, where’s your clothes?” 

Jack glanced over at you, that stupid grin on his face that still looked unbelievably fond. It felt wrong to be on the receiving end of it. 

“M’getting ready for bed,” he said simply. “I can’t sleep in a shirt, babe, you know this.” 

“Right, of course I do,” you nodded. “I was just testing you. Making sure you have no more memory problems.” 

“That’s sweet, babe, but I am okay,” Jack assured you, climbing under the covers and settling on the right side of the bed, like he somehow fucking knew you preferred the left. “The doc cleared me and I’ve felt fine since. You know I’d tell you if I felt like something was wrong.”

“Yeah, I just…worry,” you answered after a few moments, trying to calm the thoughts racing through your head as you climbed into the bed next to him. You kept telling yourself to relax, to just pretend like this was normal, to do what the doctor said and play along with the curse so it doesn’t get worse.

But it was hard to believe you were sharing a bed with the boy when he—mutually—hated your guts a few hours ago.

“C’mere,” Jack hummed, pulling you into his embrace with ease and ignoring the way your body seemed to tense at the contact between you both. “Just relax. It’s hockey, hits happen. You know that.” 

You swallowed. “Curses don’t, though.” 

“True, but we will get through that too,” Jack said with so much confidence. “We’re a team, remember? I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine.”

Your eyes widened as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Mhm. A team. That’s us.” 

Jack grinned against your head. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Night, Jack.” 

…

You woke up the following morning to an empty bed.

For a moment, you thought the whole thing was a bad dream. You thought that it was some twisted nightmare your brain tormented you with, something that would haunt you for the next few days but ultimately forget. 

For a moment, you let out a sigh of relief. 

And then you heard a crash from the kitchen, followed by a familiar voice whispering ‘shit’ and realised it was not, in fact, a dream.

You weren’t even sure what you expected to find when you threw the covers off and quickly rushed towards the source of the noise. But finding Jack, half dressed, with two plates on the counter with a sizzling pan on the stove was not it. 

“Oh hey, you’re up,” he beamed once he spotted you lingering in the doorway. “We didn’t have much in the fridge, so we should probably do a grocery run soon. But I managed to whip up something edible.” 

You blinked. “You cook?”

Jack groaned but there was still a smile on his face. “Babe, I’m getting better. I only set the toaster on fire twice in the last few months!” 

You blinked again, your brain far too tired to even stay with the conversation.

“Your coffee is in the fridge,” Jack said, turning back around to focus on not burning whatever was in the pan. “I didn’t make it, so I promise it tastes good. It’s from that cafe down the road you like.”

You knew the cafe well. It was one of your favourites and one you frequently bought coffees from, especially before work. You knew it wasn’t the most shocking thing in the world that he knew of its existence, but the fact he somehow seemed to know it was your favourite and choose the correct order threw you off.

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking a sip of the iced coffee whilst Jack just grinned at you. 

“You’re snappy before coffee,” he teased. 

You shuffled towards the stools by the counter, settling down as you watched the boy closely, like somehow staring at him would reverse whatever curse that old lady put on him. It didn’t. Instead, you were just blatantly staring at the shirtless boy in your kitchen like he was an alien.

He almost felt like one, if you were being honest.

“So,” you spoke up after a few moments. “What are your plans for today?” 

Jack glanced over his shoulder, shooting you an odd look. “Are you sure you’re not the one who got hit last night? We have the charity event with the other boys, remember? The picnic in the park? Don’t tell me my date is bailing on me.”

You laughed nervously. “Of course not! Just…testing you again!”

“Well, you can chill with the tests,” he assured you, pressing another fucking kiss on your forehead that made you feel warm and gooey and confused as he placed your plate in front of you. “M’okay, baby, promise. Also, I promised Nico we would bring something so we should probably stop by some bakery and grab cookies, or something.” 

You only hummed in response, fighting the urge to blurt out the truth and somehow relieved that you wouldn’t have to be spending the day alone with him.

…

“You. Here. Now.” 

Luke blinked, his brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at you. He pointed his finger towards himself and you could have rolled your eyes if you weren’t so desperate. 

“Yes, you, idiot. Hurry up.” 

However, Luke was a little bitch so he slowly made his way over to the tree you were currently hiding behind, a plate of finger foods in his hand that he was snacking away on. 

“Sup?” 

You stared at him blankly. “You’re already on thin ice.” 

“Aw,” Luke cooed, a teasing grin growing on his face. “Was the night with Jack that bad?” 

“He knows things!” You hissed under your breath, a bit more frantic that you would have preferred. “We need to find this fucking witch, I can’t do this anymore.” 

“It’s been less than twenty-four hours,” Luke pointed out.

“It’s freaky as fuck,” you retorted. “He knows things about me that a normal boyfriend would.” 

“Wow, it’s almost like magic,” Luke deadpanned.

“I hate you.” 

“Rude way to talk to your possible future brother-in-law,” Luke grinned, letting out a squeal when you pinched his side. “Ow, ouch! Okay! I’ll try to keep him away from you as much as I can.” 

You sighed. “Thank you.” 

…

It took twenty minutes before that plan flopped. 

Jack snuck off after an interview he had done with Luke for the Devils social media team, hardly giving his brother a chance to come up with an excuse to hang out on the other side of the park before he hunted you down. 

You almost screamed when a body flopped down on the blanket beside you, Jack’s grinning face in your line of vision as he settled his head on your lap. 

“Hey, stranger,” he greeted, lifting his hand to tuck some hair behind your ear. “You’ve been quiet today.” 

“Just tired,” you said, the response almost automatic at this point. 

But Jack frowned. “I think you might be getting sick. We should pick up some soup from that deli place you like, down in Hoboken. Maybe pick up some tea too.” 

Your throat felt tight but you nodded nonetheless, hoping your surprise wasn’t obvious on your face.

Fucking magic. 

…

When you woke up the next morning, Jack still thought he was your boyfriend.

The next day was the same. 

So was the one after that. 

And the days following. 

Before you knew it, it had been well over a week—honestly closer to two weeks—and the curse seemed well and truly cemented in place. It was still an absolute mind-fuck, and not just for you but everyone on the team. 

It felt like one big secret you were all holding back on telling Jack, letting him live in some weird and ignorant bliss. The worst part was that he was so unsuspecting of the people closest to him lying to his face. He didn’t question the snickers Dawson or Luke would sometimes let out when the two of you showed up to work together. Or the way Nico seemed to actively avoid talking about the relationship (despite Jack insisting it was his friend’s shove that prompted him to ask you out). Or the fact you had been ‘sick’ for the last two weeks and, therefore, unable to kiss him.

Though, that one was easy with hockey players and their odd superstitions and need to prevent any possible scrap from a game. 

He was so trusting and gullible when it came to the people around him, you almost felt bad. 

The emphasis being on almost because by some weird and twisted turn of events, you didn’t mind it. Not really. Not after the initial weirdness and tension of it wore off. Maybe you had been single for too long or maybe you were mourning something you had never truly experienced, the love and attention of someone who notices, who sees you, who cares about keeping you happy. 

It felt wrong, like you were exploiting Jack for emotions and feelings he didn’t organically have. But it also felt too nice to tell the truth, to tell him that you weren’t really his girlfriend and lose the benefits you had gained over the last two weeks.

It was weird seeing this side of Jack. Not a bad weird, just a different kind. 

A kind you knew you would have to give up once the curse was gone.

“M’gonna be a bit longer, Dawson wanted to run some more drills outside of practice,” Jack said as he lifted himself off the massage bed, flashing those puppy dog eyes at you that made your stomach twist in endearment (when once upon a time, they pissed you off). “Wait for me? I’ll pay for your lunch.” 

“You don’t have to bribe me, you know,” you snorted but your eyes fluttered shut as he rounded your desk, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “But deal. We’re getting burritos.” 

He beamed, shaking his head fondly. “Fine. I’ll catch you in a few hours.” 

You watched him scurry out of your office, probably running through the corridors to get to the locker room before he was reprimanded for being late. He had even arrived two hours earlier than he was meant to, just because he wanted to chill in your office whilst you worked. 

It shouldn’t have made your heart flutter when you knew it wasn’t really Jack but it did.

It really fucking did.

…

It was an hour or so later when you couldn’t ignore your stomach rumbling anymore. 

There was still another two hours before Jack would step off the ice, heading towards the locker room to shower and change before the two of you could grab some food. And you sure as hell could not wait that long. 

You let out a groan, your joints clicking as you stood up from your desk for the first time in a few hours. You ignored the voice in the back of your head that reminded yourself to try walking around a bit more between writing reports before you headed into the hallway, deciding to treat yourself to the vending machines closer to the players’ locker room (it had better snacks, despite what management liked to tell everyone).

You had been standing in front of the vending machine with your brows furrowed in contemplation that you hadn’t even noticed an old lady approaching you.

“You’re the girl.” 

You jumped out of your skin, an unflattering noise of surprise leaving your lips as you stared at the woman with wide eyes. “I, uh, what?” Your brain took a few seconds to catch up. “I mean, I am a girl. I don’t know about being the girl.”

The woman smiled and it sent shivers down your spine. “Hm, yes, I can see it now. His aura lingers on you.” 

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, but the magic remains. It is strong. Pungent,” she continued, tsking as she shook her head. “You delay the inevitable!” 

Your eyes widened as you took a step back on instinct. “You’re the one that cursed Jack, aren’t you?”

“Curse?” Her smile became knowing, sneaky, disconcerting. “Oh, honey, there was no curse.”

You frowned. “Uh, ma’am, with all due respect, I find that hard to believe considering he—” 

“All I did was give him what he wanted,” she said, so simply and so directly that it caught you off guard. “His deepest desire to be his, though I assumed that would be a game win. The losing streak was quite off-putting.” 

“I—” You blinked. “So, wait. You’re a fan?” 

“Yes,” she stated. “Was it not obvious?” 

You bit back the sarcastic response that wanted to leave your lips. “And what? You cursed him to win the game?” 

“That was my mistake for assuming it was what he desired the most,” she replied, that almost-creepy smile on her face. “It seems his deepest desires lay with you.” 

You stared at the woman in front of you. “You’re joking, right?” 

“I do not joke,” she stated bluntly. 

“So…the way he’s been acting…” you trailed off, your mind racing with a million different thoughts.

“All himself,” the woman answered. “Think of the magic as the confidence boost he needed to get there.” 

“He likes me?” 

“Yes.”

“Like, properly?” 

“Yes.” 

“And everything he’s been doing? That’s been done by him and not influenced by magic? Not even the tidbits of knowledge?” 

“My dear, it sounds like you have been very oblivious to how this man feels about you.” 

You shot her a look, unsure how you felt about being called out by the very witch who ‘didn’t curse’ the boy you had been calling your boyfriend for the last two weeks. 

“Oh my god.” 

“Though, it seems like his change in relationship with you has been what he needed to get him out of his losing slump, so I guess we both win.”

You frowned a little. “You’re one odd lady.” 

She shrugged in response. 

“How did you even get in here?” 

…

“Run it again!” 

Jack’s muscles were screaming at him as he pushed himself across the ice, pushing himself to go faster, faster, faster like the coach wanted as he carried the puck on his stick. His eyes were laser-focused on the players around him, on dodging the defencemen lined up in front of him and skating around them to get to the goal. 

He didn’t let himself relax until the sound of the puck hitting the back of the net hit his ears.

“JACK!” 

He turned his head, expecting to find one of his teammates skating towards him to celebrate his goal in their makeshift drill. But instead of Nico skating towards him with his arms in the air or Dougie prepared to smack him on the back for dodging his attempts, he instead found you standing by the tunnel. 

You looked flustered and on edge and panicked, and it made his spine straighten.

Jack dodged the others, ignoring whatever the coaching staff were barking at them as he made his way towards you at a speed that you would have disapproved of if you knew how sore his muscles were.

“What? Are you okay? Did something happen?” He asked frantically, confused as to why else you would have interrupted a training practice. 

“You like me,” you said to him.

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Uh, yeah, babe. I do. What are you—”

But before he could continue, you grabbed his face with both hands and tugged him closer. He stumbled a step or two before his lips were pressed on yours. His surprise disappeared after a few seconds, his body melting into the kiss and his brain forgetting whatever he was trying to ask moments ago.

He was still in a daze when you pulled away, your hands still holding his face and your gaze completely focused on him, like you were expecting to see something different. 

“Do you still like me?” You asked, a little breathless.

And he felt winded. 

Winded by an influx of memories and realisations and emotions that were all his own. Winded by the magic coursing through him, ringing obvious and evident to his body despite two weeks of feeling nothing. Winded by the look on your face, a hint of fear and hope shining in your eyes as you awaited his response.

“Yeah,” he rasped, his cheeks burning hot. “I do.”

“Okay,” you nodded, your lips twitching upwards. “Good.” 

And then you kissed him again. 

However, this time it was the shrill of a whistle that broke you two apart, the annoyed voices of the coaching staff telling Jack to stop slacking and continue on with his training ringing loud and clear through the rink. 

“We still have a lot to talk about,” you said as Jack began to skate back towards the rest of the group. “Like, a lot.”

He grinned at you. “We still on for burritos after?” 

You laughed. “Only if you’re still playing.” 

“It’s a date, baby,” Jack winked. 

It was well known by all that you and Jack Hughes did not like each other. 

But maybe a little bit of magic was the shove the two of you needed to realise that wasn’t quite true. 

.

[heartandmusic]

old musical movies are so crazy cause the first hour is just like yayyy tap dancing yippee yippee!! this is so fun yayyy we are tap dancing<333<3<3 :) and for our final number let's hear it for nonsequitur racism :D <3