#there are sets of ideals and expectations imposed on them both except shadow's are imposed by ganon and vio's by the goddesses

[lucky-clover-gazette]

i removed the "could be platonic or romantic" tag from the adaptation fic bc these bitches are gay as hell and it's way too interesting a dynamic to ignore

[literate-lamb]

Man of the House | prologue

Sam Wilson/fem!Reader, future dark!Bucky Barnes/fem!Reader 

Of first meetings with your landlord and being enamoured with the hauntingly beautiful house. A new start.

► warnings(!): none for this chapter, eventual dubcon/noncon, eventual choking in future chapters. this is a dark fic.

a/n: I’m opening a taglist for this series, just hmu with an ask.

When people think of Fall, they can’t help but attribute it to the crispy coldness, the yellowing of leaves, or children in pumpkin patches. Young adults would probably think of the pumpkin spice lattes from cafes, or for the fans of the occult, All Hallow’s Eve’s approach comes to the mind. Just like the changing of leaves, for you, Fall reminds you of new beginnings. A fresh start.

The autumn wind chills as you huddled closer in your coat, trying to retain warmth. Your old car —a Studebaker Lark ‘63— parked on the curb of the road as you approached the house. 

Ahead over you, in its Gothic Revival glory, sat a white wooden house. The drab grey sky made it seem more imposing in stature. The roof was a contrasting grey, steeply pitched with an arched gable. Delicate wooden trims decorated the front; nothing intricate but a simple design. Dirty windows entered your peripheral, the accumulated dust blurring them. 

Taking everything in, the house seemed well-maintained, but the chipping of paint reminded you of its age. 

Nevertheless, for a structure of such grandeur, it was astonishingly inexpensive. After hours of pouring over internet searches, you couldn’t believe your eyes when you stumbled upon it. 

The house was a classic; with its architecture and size, you deemed it perfect. Located in a quieter part of Maryland, bordering DC; not too far from your place of employment, but far from the cacophonies of the city. This, you considered, was your fresh start.

Standing near the driveway was a greying gentleman; grey hair perfectly coiffed, crow’s feet in the corners of twinkling blue eyes. You assumed he’s in his 60’s or 70’s. He greeted you, his weathered face smiling, with a walking stick in hand, although he still seemed strong for his age.

“Good day, Mr Rogers,” you smiled, shaking his offered hand. “Thank you for meeting me today.”

“It’s a pleasure, dear,” he replied. “Let’s go in, shall we?” 

Stepping onto the porch, you observed your surroundings. The rustling of trees by the wind was the most prominent of sound, if anything else, it was dead quiet. You could see other houses scattered in the distance, however no immediate neighbours were within vicinity. 

The click of the front door unlocking pulled you. The inside was dark, the dusty windows permitting little light, while the floor was covered by a thin layer of dust. 

Mr Rogers walked in first, pushing the door and held it open for you. You thanked him, pleased with his gentlemanly ways.

A hiss left you at the sudden switching of lights, attacking your eyes as they readjusted. You blinked a few times to take in the interior. 

The hallway was long; cream coloured wallpaper hugged its sides, ending to a larger room in the distance. The walls were bare except for a few random antique mirrors. To your left, a stairway sits. It contrasts the walls; a rich, sturdy, mahogany. To your right, an entrance way opens up; silhouettes standing in the dim shadows.

“I apologize, it’s a bit dusty,” said Mr Rogers, sheepishly. “I try to clean it up at least once a month.”

“By yourself?” you ask, bewildered.

He chuckled, “No, with a cleaning company, dear.”

Telling you to follow him, Mr Rogers stepped into the entryway to your right, switching the lights on. 

The silhouettes you saw earlier were of the furniture strewn about; chesterfield sofas, armchairs, and antique floor lamps crowding the room. A fireplace stood near another entrance, a large mirror erected over its mantle, reflecting the rays from the porch windows. It looked like a scene out of those classic films you used to love. If tidied properly, this would be the best reading spot, you thought.

“This is the parlour,” he announced, “Great for having guests over.”

“It’s beautiful,” you beamed. 

Moving forward, Mr Rogers walked through the other entryway, leading to a dining room. From your vantage point, you could see this is the room the hallway ends up to. 

Smacked in the middle, a sleek white marble dining table sits. Its length stretches across the room, sets of dining chairs accommodating tens of people. It looked ideal for hosting dinner parties. 

The dining room was connected to the kitchen in the back, easing the transferring of food. When you stepped foot into the kitchen, you didn’t expect it to be extravagantly spacious. You smiled, envisioning  yourself cooking meals in this kitchen.

“There are a few pots and pans under the cupboards if you ever want to use ‘em,” the older man says. “They were my wife’s” 

Curious, you pressed, “Your wife, sir?”

“Yep, my wife, Peggy,” he smiled, eyes distant, lost in a different time, “Actually, she was the one who owned this house, or atleast, her family did. I inherited it after she passed away, felt it was too big to live by myself ya know?”

You hummed in understanding. He must have lived a fulfilling life with his wife, judging by the look. After a few seconds, he snapped out of it, composed himself, and marched on.

“This here leads to the back of the house,” he gestured to a door, the upper half a transparent window. You could see tall blades of grass and the dense trees swaying out back, reacting to the wind. “And this one’s the laundry room, the bathroom’s next to it,” he continued, opening a second door in the kitchen.

You both left the kitchen, entering the hallway through the dining room. As you passed, you noticed a set of stairs obscured under the main staircase. It was smaller, leading down under, ending where a thick black door stood in slight darkness.

“Uhm, Mr Rogers?” you asked, pausing. “What’s that room?”

The older man stopped, turning to look back. 

“Oh, that’s the basement. Nothing exciting down there though, just a furnace and some tools. I’ll show you soon,” he seemed to ramble, before turning his back quickly. Without waiting for you, he started climbing the stairs, slowly, hand gripping the railings tightly, walking stick in the other.

That prompted an eyebrow raise from you, he almost seemed flustered. Shrugging it off, you followed.

“So, tell me, dear,” he started, “What brings you searching for a house in this area? It’s not exactly the most happening of places for youngsters.”

The question surprised you. Usually most landlords don’t bother to know such, especially of potential tenants. Their only concern being prompt payments, or you’re out.

“Um, I’m a vet, and I actually work closer here than if I live in the city,” you replied, “Plus, it beats the DC traffic.” Which was true, harrowing through traffic everyday was exhausting.

Mr Rogers chuckled in response.

The second floor was the same layout as the floor below; a long hallway with doors. You noticed there were even more mirrors on this floor. Come to think of it, there were mirrors in every room you’ve been in so far.

“There are three bedrooms and a bathroom on this floor,” —the man explains, opening a door— “And this is the master bedroom.”

It was spacious and regal, light blue walls with dark furniture occupied the room; a king-sized four poster, a vanity, and a large wardrobe stood next to a closet. On the furthest side, two stained glass doors stood, leading to a balcony overlooking the front yard. The colours from the glass reflected on the walls, giving allusions to crystalline shapes. You imagined how they’d reflect during sunset. It was perfect.

The tour commenced with Mr Rogers showing the other two bedrooms and bathroom. At the end of the hall, he led you to a wooden ladder that stood connected to a latch door in the ceiling. 

“That’s the attic, nothing much but dust and some old furniture,” he pointed, “You can take a look at ‘em and see if they’re to your liking when you decide to move in.”

Heading down the stairs, the basement was the last place on the tour.

“So, how are you liking the place so far?” he asks, walking beside you.

Biting your lip, you chose your words carefully. “It’s beautiful, the furniture, the decor, and such big space as well,” you said, “Although I’m surprised that I’ll be getting all of this, especially with the price.” 

The elder man picked up on your apprehension, “Ah, about that, I’ll discuss the details with you after we finish.” He took the lead, pushing the thick black door with his body. He was stronger than you expected. 

A sense of foreboding was felt at first as the door creaked. After going further down the steps, it wasn’t as dark as you expected. Minimal light shone in through small windows on the upper walls, the glass separating the two worlds.

The dangling chain on the ceiling was pulled, flooding the space in light. Adjusting to the brightness, you could see it was dustier in the basement. Cobwebs hung in corners, entangling corpses with them. Thick dust covered the surface of shelves, as if a blizzard invaded. An even thicker silence settled, deafening to the core.

“Don’t you worry about that thing,” the man’s voice echoed, pointing to a furnace in the back, “Got that serviced this year, if anything happens just let me know.” Turning to the shelves, he seemed to inspect them for a few moments, eyes squinting. “And there’s a lot of tool boxes in here,” he gestured to the heavy shelves, pushed to the walls, “Feel free to use ‘em.”

Not wasting any time, Mr Rogers turned back towards the stairs. You followed suit, pulling the chain, basking the basement in darkness once more. 

As you began to ascend, a sudden strong scent invaded your nostrils, wafting through like an uninvited guest. You gave another whiff. A musky scent, wild, and smoky, further reminding you of Fall. 

Casting one last glance into the darkness, you shrugged it off, and closed the door. Must’ve been Mr Rogers’ faint cologne.

You observed the state of the porch as Mr Rogers locked the front door. The porch needed sweeping, you noted, stepping on a sea of dead leaves, their crunching audible. 

Overlooking the lawn, you noticed a pair of blue eyes at the edge of the porch. A pair of white fluffy ears accompanied, flickering occasionally. You smiled, it seemed like you had a visitor.

Squatting down on the steps of the porch, you chittered, hoping to catch its attention. After a few seconds, a white blur zoomed in, scurrying then stopping abruptly at your feet. It mewled, wide blue eyes staring, demanding attention. You petted and scratched below its jaw, the creature emitting content purrs. 

“Looks like she’s taken a liking to you,” voices Mr Rogers from behind, “She’s a stray, always coming ‘round.”

“I’m surprised, she’s very friendly,” you said, petting snowy fur.

Seconds pass, the cat’s purr the only sound. 

“I’m sure you’ve been wondering regarding the rent,” he breaks the silence, taking a seat on the porch steps. “Why it’s so… well, cheap, for a fully furnished house like this.”

“Well… yeah, I actually almost thought it was a scam,” you replied, sheepish. “I had to actually see it for myself.”

The older gentleman laughed, “I don’t blame you, it sounds too good to be true.”

And indeed, it was. For a classic house like this, dating probably a century back, and fully furnished, something must be up. It was too good of a good bargain.

“Actually, there’s a reason why I put it that way,” he admits after a few beats. “Tell me, do you believe in ghosts, dear?” 

You frowned, wondering where he’s going with this, “Can’t say I do.”

“Let me guess, atheist?” 

“Agnostic.”

He smiles mirthlessly, “Well, I can’t say I believe in them either, but for the past years, I’ve been having trouble getting tenants to stay.” That piqued your curiosity.

“What do you mean, sir?” you pressed, intrigued.

“Past tenants have told me they’ve been… spooked while living in the house, like things disappearing and reappearing, or hearing footsteps and what not,” the man explains, “But I can’t say it’s true since it’s all peaceful whenever I stay here, or check up on maintenance. I’ve even had a friend stay here for a week, and nothing!"

Ah, the classic household haunting you’ve always seen in movies; missing items, heavy footsteps, the feeling of being watched. Sitting on the steps, you felt like a walking cliché; the stupid girl who goes into a large house knowing it’s haunted, wanting a taste of thrill. Yet, you can’t be bothered. You’ve always been a skeptic, a believer that science and logic can debunk these things.

“What I wanted to ask you is, would you still want to move here after all I’ve told you?” the older man asked. “I’d understand if you want to back out.”

His question shows how concerned he is about others, even if it’ll put a damper in his business. You felt lucky to have stumbled upon an honest and understanding landlord, not everyone had that privilege. But something felt off.

“I don’t understand, while I appreciate it, why do you need to disclose this, sir?” you ask, weirded out. “Isn’t it buyers beware?”

“It’s a part of the law to categorize it under ‘stigmatized’ property,” he replied. “Besides, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if you didn’t know,” he chuckled, you joined him. “So, what about it, dear?”

Stroking the cat, you thought about it. You were never a believer of ghouls nor other other-worldly beings, and you weren’t going to start now. While the presence of ghosts could never be proven or denied, you believed that every occurrence has a logical explanation, even the paranormal. You weren’t about to let go of a wonderful place just because some ghost decided to move in as well. Stigmatized or not, you’ve found yourself a good deal. The perfect start.

“Don’t worry Mr Rogers, ghosts or no, nothing's gonna stop me from living in this house,” you smiled. He returned it.

Later, after much discussion and the exchange of handshakes, you left the house with a sense of relief. Pulling out of the driveway, you waved to the older gentleman, before speeding off. 

A few metres ahead, checking in the rearview mirror, you saw Mr Rogers still standing in the driveway. 

His smile never faltered.

The next day finds you working endlessly at the clinic, meeting furry patients left and right, tending to their dilemmas. The clinic was almost never vacant, the seats occupied always leaving behind fur. To you, it has always been a fulfilling job. Sometimes you’ll get scratched, or hissed at, but at the end of the day it was always worth the care.

Lunch came a bit later. Sighing, your shoulders relaxed. After attending to a cat that decided it needed to throw a hissy fit, you really needed a break. While shovelling food into your mouth, your phone suddenly rang; Sam Wilson flashing on the screen.

“Hi, baby,” you picked up.

“Hello, baby,” came the sultry voice on the other end. “How’s my girl doin’?”

“She’s doing fine, thank you for asking,” you teased. “Why’d you call? Did something happen?”

Muffled chuckles rang through the speakers, “No, nothing happened, just wanted to know how you’re doin’. Hey, how was the house? All good?” 

“It was gorgeous! And fully-furnished too!” you replied, gleefully. “It was all antique, the master bedroom was my favourite,” and you continued telling him of everything, from the fancy parlour to the stained glass doors. Sam listened attentively, humming and responding at appropriate times. And this is why you loved him. He was always the talkative one out of you two, yet he never talked out of turn, always putting you first. “Oh, and I’ve found out why it’s so affordable.”

“Let me guess, someone died in that house?” 

You chuckled, “Close, apparently it’s ‘haunted’, ooh,” you booed. “The landlord said he had never experienced it during all his years there, nor did his friend that apparently stayed there. So it makes you wonder, if it were just stories from people paranoid about living in an old house.”

“Sounds like it,” Sam hummed. “Can’t wait to have sleepovers at your new place now.” 

You laughed, missing his dose of humour and his presence terribly. “I wished you were there with me.”

“I wished I had too, baby,” he murmured, “So when’s the moving date? Gotta put these bad boys into good use.” You heard him grunting, probably flexing his bicep from the other end. Sam’s antics always amused you. He was your happy pill.

“I told Mr Rogers —that’s the landlord— I’ll be moving in two weeks,” you explained. “Do you mind taking a day off to help me? Pretty please?”

“Anything for you, baby.” 

[rannadylin]

Fluff, Network, Offspring for Vi; Alignment, Grudge and Question for Anselm; Law, Pistol, Upcoming for Audie; Jaded, Law and Question for Glynis; Alignment, Fluff, Kin, Question and Touch for Ianthe

A-Z Headcanon Asks

Violet:

Fluff :: What hits their soft spot? Doesanything them into emotional goo?Edér’s sense of humor, mostly. Vi is a Very Serious Fluff and hisability to make her laugh even when things are pretty terrible is a large partof her falling for him. Seeing him go all silly over every stray pet theycollect brightens her day, too.

Also, Eothas. It’s obviously gonna be a complicatedrelationship she has with her god after Sun in Shadow, and worse, after hewrecks Caed Nua, but the first time she gets to actually talk to him in theDeadfire just melts her. Her devotion after that point isn’t just theoreticalor practical; she’s delighted to find him, well, likeable, even in the midst of another of his crazy schemes.

Network :: Are they connected to the people?How much do they reach out to others?

She takes that aspect of priesthood very seriously, thoughshe has to push herself to reach out at times when she’s more geared toward thecontemplative, introspective side of her calling. In the Dyrwood, she welcomes secretEothasians to her secret chapel in Caed Nua and has Edér to help her find suchfolk through the Night Market. Apart from church folk, she keeps incorrespondence with some of her family – Audie especially, before the clanvisited Caed Nua, and more of them after that – and with friends from her Dyrwood adventures, especially Kana and, when he bothers to write, Aloth – but she’s not much for socialevents and that kind of networking.

Offspring :: What kind of parent would they be?Would they prefer one, or multiple?She’s got lots of experience wrangling younger siblings, but ofcourse it’s different when it’s your own. Vi’s compassion and resolve and tendencyto give every situation careful thought would all come in handy with her kidsthough; she’s a devoted and caring mother, though on the other hand that“giving things careful thought” can make her hesitate to act quickly whendiscipline is called for. And…given her clan/city traditions…I’m not sure shecould handle having just one child, if she’s going to have any at all. XDThey’re meant to have siblings, right? Lots of those?

In the Soul & Shield world state, she and Edér willprobably adopt. In other world states – Deadfire canon included – she andAnselm will have a bunch. I think that letter to Eidis mentioned at leastthree? There will probably be more after that.

[more behind a cut, so many wonderful questions! ;-D]

Anselm:

Alignment :: What would be their D&Dalignment? How might it come into play?Hmmmm…this is tougher than it seems it should be. I mean he’s got arather particular sense of honor but also does not hesitate to use his Watchauthority to bend the rules if they get in the way. And he was certainly moreselfish in his youth whereas he’s trying to be more altruistic these days, so Isuppose he’s mid-shift from something like Lawful Evil to True Neutral? Oof,that’s my best guess anyway.

Grudge :: How bad does an insult go over? Dothey hold a grudge long?He’s got a lot of confidence (or…well…retains the veneer of it atleast, possibly to cover up a self-doubt that’s been growing since Violet leftand only now being challenged) to shrug off an insult, or more likely fire asubtle comeback. Grudges…are beneath him, mostly. Vengeance is more effective. Why stew over an injury done to you when you have the power to retaliate and assert your own superiority?

Question :: How often do they feel doubt? Whattopics are they defensive about?He’s always doubting whether he’s really any better now than he was whenViolet left. (Recent developments regarding someItzli sisters’ views of him may help to quiet those doubts. ����)And he’s a little defensive about being a cipher, always expecting people tomistrust him for it and having to prove himself.

Audie:

Law :: What do they think about abiding rules?Are they selective about it?Audie thinks people should abide the rules that she makes, basically. Those that stand in her way, on the otherhand, were ill-advised. (To be fair, the world would run pretty smoothly if she were running it. Pity she wasn’t around when the Engwithans were deifying people.)

Pistol :: Is this character skilled with aweapon? What’s their opinion of violence?Oh, very skilled with her knives, both for stabbing and throwing.Being in the Citlatl militia longer than the rest of the Itzli siblings has hardenedher to violence, as well, though not to a great extent as the city’s been atpeace for all her life and it’s just fairly routine patrols and scouting andsuch for now. She’s not necessarily looking for a fight (not physically, at least: she’s almost always challenging someone at least psychologically) but she won’t back down from one either.

Upcoming :: How much do they think of thefuture? Do they make long-term plans?Lots of contingency plans, I think. She has the most influence onthe family’s business pursuits these days, so she does a lot of networking fortrade contracts (oh, and I think I’ve settled on the family business being inthe textile industry… :-D They totally make fabric from Ginny’s alpaca yarn,too, and some of the embroidery on the finer bolts of cloth and on the garmentsmade for export is done by some Itzli siblings as well as hired employees…) and she oversees plans for production and that sort of thing. But then she also hasPlans B and C and several more degrees of what they’ll do if anything goeswrong. So it’s a long-term series of short-term plans? Sort of?

Glynis:

Jaded:: Do they buy into the “happily ever after” ideal? What’s their standard?Her life is the gods’. And…she’s a visionary. Like, literally, theHaven is the product of her visions (from the gods, she assumes, and she’s probably right). And theyhaven’t told her anything about settling down happily ever after, so that makesTicatl’s attempts at courtship kind of awkward for a while.

Law:: What do they think about abiding rules? Are they selective about it?She is a very rule-abiding missionary, convinced that only by being above-boardand doing all that they do among the heathen in the light of Eothas can theyconvince people to convert. (On some level she feels like consorting with Ticatl is breaking the rules, though asfar as I know there isn’t any such rule, but it’s more to do with her role asRectrix and her fear of dividing her attention too much if she falls in love…atsome point she was, ahem, selective enough about that self-imposed rule thatshe did in fact end up pregnant, though, so there’s that.)

Question:: How often do they feel doubt? What topics are they defensive about?She is not a philosopherlike Violet, so rather than welcoming doubt as a chance to examine the truth closer,she tends to try to outshine it and cling tighter to the tenets of Engwithanfaith, of which she’s pretty enthusiastically convinced. She’s a littledefensive about her visions of the Haven, when that first starts happening andshe’s trying to convince the other missionaries they need to build this thing.

Ianthe:

Alignment :: What would be their D&D alignment? How mightit come into play?Hmmmmm. Lawful neutral maybe, given her respect for authority evenwhen she’s not fully on board with Thaos’ methods?

Fluff :: What hits their soft spot? Does anything them intoemotional goo?Hugs from Glynis. Appreciation – Ianthina so regularly feelsoverlooked and persuades herself to just live with it, that if someone treatsher with genuine regard it’s a little overwhelming (and she’s forever grateful,once she gets over the initial suspicion depending on where said regard iscoming from).

Kin :: What’s their role among their relations? Do theyconsider others family?Hmmm well for actual blood relations, her parents died young but Idunno [yet] why, and I don’t think she had much other family – no siblings,maybe an aunt or uncle or something out there? And of course she ends upviewing Thaos as a father figure but that takes a while. I don’t know if sheeven got to the point of considering Glynis like family, though she’ll alwaysconsider her as her best friend, but their time together in training was brief,relative to the rest of Ianthe’s time in the gods’ service. (As for hersort-of-stepmother Deoiridh, in whatever version of the story gives them achance to get to know each other better, she kind of views her more asa…sister, or cousin or something, but keeps that view to herself. XD)

Question :: How often do they feel doubt? What topics arethey defensive about?Having had her doubts about the gods confirmed after theInquisition, and yet coming back to serve them anyway, she’s got a tendency nowto be even more skeptical and assume her doubts about anything are true. But tostill do what seems most practical, even if contrary to her doubts. She’s defensiveabout her role in the Inquisition, especially the lover she had who went overto Iovara’s cause, but she’s even more defensive about her inclination to mercyafter she returns to the gods’ service. It goes against all her practical nature,after all; but she’s just seen too muchruthlessness in the Inquisition to let that be her first resort anymore, evenif she feels at first like this disappoints her mentor…

Touch :: How do they handle contact? Is their personal bubblebig?She’s fairly aloof, definitely a big bubble, maybe something to dowith being an only child. Glynis was almost instantly granted an exception tothis standoffishness – look, when the first acolyte you meet in the barracks upon enteringtemple training greets you with an enthusiastic and very fluffy hug and then lookschagrined at overstepping and clearly hopes she hasn’t started off on the wrongfoot with her new roommate, sometimes you can’t help but set aside your awkwarddiscomfort and tell her it’s fine. And take a liking to this fluffy littleidealist with eyes as big as her dreams who clearly needs a more sensiblefriend to help rein in her wilder ideas. (Oh goodness, I really need to writesome early Ianthe & Glynis fic, don’t I?)

[nitelotus]

Sanctuary

It was supposed to be another ordinary night. Annie chuckled. Ever since she opened Sanctuary, her club 5 years ago, nothing has ever been ordinary. Well, not this particular bar. Sometimes she did wish for the ordinary. Opening up, the usual bar fights in the middle of the shift and closing down to only open for the next night. But working for a large company as an executive assistant has given Annie all the lifetime of ordinary she can take. 

So what makes her bar different from just the normal dive that one goes too? I'ts a neutral zone for vampires and humans. Where both specie could mingle without fear of retaliation. Well, that was the ideal anyways. Annie could not even remember how it came to be. But when everything was said and done, she had struck a deal with the vampires’ current leader in Tokyo. It was never really advertised to the humans about the existence of the vampires. It was something in the works. Besides, most of the humans who go there only get to come in because of an invite. For tonight, Annie stuck to her usual robe. Denims and a sleveless black top. The silver dragon choker glittered on her neck. It made managing much more easier. She wasn’t really all for the frills. Comfort and efficiency was what mattered in running a club. “Hi, boss,” someone greeted behind her. Even before she could react, Annie was hugged from behind.

“Mike!” Annie glowered. Mike was her head chief of security in the bar. As was usual garb of her security, he was also dressed in denim like hers but with a black button down shirt. It was toned down but still classy. Mike wore his dragon pendant and his hair slicked back. It was also in the hush that they were dating. Annie didn’t like mixing pleasure with business but so far, Mike kept his promise. He was always professional at work but a fabulous lover during off work. For just a second, Annie itched to run her fingers through his carefully manicured hair. He released her as soon as Annie gave him the “I-am-the-boss-look”. Mike gave her one of his killer smiles to diffuse her. Which Annie knew it work. “Are we ready for tonight?” He glanced at his clipboard. “Ready as we can be.” Thunder could be heard from a distance. Annie loved stormy weather. But in her lifetime, stormy weather also brought with it some surprises. She shivered but tried not to psyche herself out. “We have a new employee coming in tonight. Tali will handle her.” Mike nodded in assent. “If there’s nothing else, let’s open this place.”

That night the bar was packed. Bodies were everywhere dancing to the awesome beats that the DJ was playing. The DJ that Chinnen has been searching for years. He was worried he would not fit in this club. His usual attire was a suit plus a trench coat. But to wear that to this venue would certainly make him look suspicious. So he opted for a white collared shirt and frayed denim with sneakers. Chinnen observed her from a distance. A dragon tattoo, not sure if it was permanent, snaked around her left arm. Emma wore a golden yellow sequined top with skinny pleather slacks. Her chucks finished her ensemble. Finally his labors paid off and he found her. Not that she was hiding. Emma disappeared from her parent’s house in the US and the last picture they provided him was of a sweet little girl. Her parents were both entrepreneurs that gave a lot of funding for this expedition. Chinnen guessed that probably being the only daughter from such respectable parents came with certain expectations and responsibilities. Instead of facing them, Emma chose to run away. All the way to Tokyo. But the search ended tonight. He made his way to the bar where two ladies were manning it. “What ya having?” one of them asked. From his research, the woman who just asked for his order was named Tali. She wore a grey tank top and jeans with spiked black boots. The other woman was Chri. She differed from her partner with the style of her clothing. It was the same color of gray but it was a halter top and open at the back. Her slacks were loose paired with strappy gladiator sandals. Both women wore silver dragon pendants on their neck. “Rum and coke please.” As Tali processed his order, she asked, “You’re not from around here, are ya?” She put his glass in front of him. “3.60,” not waiting for his reply. Chinnen set the money in front of him. “So what time does she get off?” He nodded towards Emma. Tali shrugged. She was always wary of strangers asking questions. “You have to ask her.” Chri nudged Tali. “He’s here!” she giggled excitedly. Chinnen turned his head sideways as two men approached the bar. “Hi, Pi! Thanks for your hard work today!” Chri greeted the man with the blonde hair. The man named Pi reached over and affectionately pinched Chri’s cheek in greeting. Chri and Pi actually met on one of his shooting locations. Chri wasn’t an extra but was a help on the set. She wasn’t part of the crew since it was only one of her many side jobs. Even though Pi was an idol, Chri acted normally around him. Annie was also pretty selective of her guests. Besides Koyama which he gained permission for, there was not a lot of his idol friends that were aware of this bar. Pi was able to relax without fear of being exposed to media and nobody seem to notice him in this bar which sometimes disturbed him. “Hi, Ms. Tali. You look nice today,” Koyama greeted. Tali gave him a cursory look. Pi always looked fashionable with his black fedora hat, v-neck white shirts and jeans. Koyama was a bit more formal with a plain white tshirt inside a red plaid on top plus brown slacks. Both of them wore sneakers. He seemed unsure of himself. Chinnen soon understood why. Tali arched one eyebrow. “Just today then?” Koyama sputtered his excuses. Tali just laughed. “You are way too easy Koyama. Way too easy.” Chri joined in the laughter as Pi elbowed Koyama on being teased by a girl. Chri wanted someone for Tali since she considered her as her best friend and wanted her to be happy. Plus it was awkward when Tali was the third wheel. Chri liked timid Koyama but wondered if he could match Tali’s outgoing nature. It took months for Tali to even say a couple of words to Koyama, let alone acknowledge him in any way. Well, there was no rush. She figured they would both find their own groove. “Girls, you are still working. Save the flirting for later,” Annie chastised. She then gave a nod toward Pi and Koyama. “And you better not disturb my girls. At least go order something and make a profit for me!” Annie took a second glance at the man at Koyama’s right. “Your new friend?” Before Chinnen could reply, something caught Annie’s attention as she disappeared into the crowd.

They simply could not get enough of each other. It did not help that the photoshoot was for a lingerie advertisement. Ikuta Toma and Lillith were both models in the human world. But both of them had two secrets that they both shared. They both have a taste for blood and their relationship was a secret to the human world. Outside Sanctuary, they were both the most sought out male and female model. But due to their nature, both have mutually agreed not to see each other in public. Everyone speculated, of course.

Lillith pressed herself closer to him in that dimly lit corridor. It was a good idea to wear that skirt tonight. Her dark blue corset hugged her torso. The high slitted silver gray skirt with the electric blue high heeled shoes finished her outfit for the club. Toma on the other hand wore stripped slacks with a black vest that held a white button shirt rolled up to his elbows. He was created during the roaring 60’s and missed his mobster days. The base from the thumping music at the main hall reverberated through the walls and corridors. She anchored herself to his hip with her left leg. Toma dropped a soft kiss on his lover’s neck. “Have you heard all those silly talk behind our back?” she asked as a soft chuckle escaped her lips. It was a hypothetical question. Both of them has excellent hearing due to their vampire nature. Toma raised a hand to slowly caress her exposed leg. “Yes, sweeting. But you shouldn’t humor them too much.” Earlier in the photoshoot, Lillith tried to pick a fight with him. It scared the staff for a bit but he calmed her down eventually to finish the job. “You are such a diva, Lillith!” Toma teased. She only answered him with a laugh. Somebody cleared his throat. Toma immediately released Lillith from his hold but just enough to situate her by his side as they faced the owner of the voice. “My liege,” Toma greeted and bowed. Matsumoto Jun held out his hand with the ring that had the ancestral vampire family crest. The symbol of his power. Even over his brother. Toma kissed the hand. “My liege,” Lillith followed suit, curtseying while kissing Jun’s hand. “You really both should get a room,” Jun said derisively as Lillith finished greeting him. “Why should they? They already have to hide their love from prying eyes, let them be open here at least,” someone argued. Nobody can disagree with their liege except for one person. Her name was Selina. She was Jun’s lifemate and she was still human. Selina stepped out from the shadows. As natural as breathing, Jun gathered her close to his side with one of his arms and pressed a soft kiss on her temple. The pair looked stunning. Only Matsumoto Jun would be able to pull off dark violet velvet shirt paired with nicely pressed black slacks. It had been awhile since he cut his hair. It was past his shoulder and curled at the ends. He kept it tidy with a black satin ribbon. Selina was entirely opposite from his dark, imposing garb. Her haircut was pixie short. She wore a kimono sleeve white satin blouse that had lotus flowers print. It was completed with bright red skinny jeans and kitten heels. “My lady,” both Toma and Lillith greeted. “Oh hush. No need to be so formal with me,” Selina replied with a smile. She nodded at Toma but hugged Lillith. Selina would have done the same with Toma but she learned real fast that giving hugs to the male specie brought out the possessive side of her mate. “Selina, what did I tell you about disagreeing with me in front of my subjects?” Jun teased. He liked being playful with her. She pinched him on his side. “Don’t call them your subjects, dear! Toma is your younger brother and Lilli is his mate. They are your family, right?” She turned towards them for support. Toma and Lillith just embarrassedly agreed. Before, they were skeptical of a human being their liege’s mate. What could a human do to be a partner to one of the vampire race’s most powerful leaders? They were not deserving. Humans were just food. But with her own determination and Jun’s support, they were proven wrong. It still worried them that Selina would not agree to be turned and decided to keep her humanity. With her by their liege’s side, Jun has become gentler along with rising to more power. He ruled more efficiently and yet, with mercy. They both adored and loved Selina for that. Toma refused to even think what would happen if anything happened to her. At that point, Annie arrived to find the two couples along the corridor. She acknowledged Jun with Selina. “Same room then?” Jun usually had a conversation with her prior to their departure from her club from the wee hours. Annie understood he was pretty up there in terms of authority in his specie that he really was in no obligation to touch base with her. It was all because of the woman beside him. Annie wouldn’t even have considered the idea for her club until Selina approached her. “Thank you, Annie,” she responded as Annie coordinated with someone to prepare their room.

Jun cannot keep his eyes off his mate, the love of his life as she joked with his younger brother and his mate. Never in his life has he encountered anyone like her. Selina was no hysterical female but she was not naive either. He could clearly remember meeting her at that fundraiser that she managed all in her own. Orphaned at a very young age, Selina grew up in the tough streets. Fortunately because of the right set of foster parents, she turned out alright. Now she manages a foster center for troubled teens and established a safe house for troubled vampires. He really admired her generous nature. Jun was enchanted when he first met her in that fundraiser. She solicited his aid seriously but immediately rebuffed his advances when he asked for her price. Then that one fateful night, Selina got attacked by one of his own. But instead of demanding answers from him, she calmly listened to his explanation. After that, he invited her out to dinner. Selina was his perfect match, looks and character-wise. “I’m just going to say hi to the ladies at the bar,” Selina said as she stood up from his side. Instantly, Jun felt bereft without her presence beside him, even if it was just for a second. “Lillith, go with her. “ “Oh hush, Jun. I’ll be fine. No need for Lillith to come,” Selina chided. She knew how protective he was of her ever since that one attack. Not everyone welcomed her presence in his world. He made sure that there was someone he trusted always with her. It did not help her reputation that she refused his “gift”. Lillith still could not believe that a mere mortal could joke this easy with his liege. She had never seen his liege this content or happy. She glanced at Toma, her own mate. It was a miracle itself to be bonded to another being. If Selina made his liege happy, then Lillith along with Toma and the rest of the race will make sure it remained that way. “We both need a refill anyways. Let me come with you, Mistress.” Lillith gathered Toma’s glass and hers and followed Selina down to the first floor. “Don’t call me Mistress!” Selina pouted. “I feel old!” Lillith laughed. “Not older than me, I bet!” Jun smiled once more that night. It was indeed a miracle that he did not have to go through eternity without her. Maybe it was her humanity he envied the most. He wished that he could convince her to live that eternity with him. Jun would be given that chance tonight. Emma had just taken a break and joined the girls at the bar. They were discussing some sort of party for Toma’s birthday. No one could anticipate the explosion that started from one of the exits in the room. Selina’s laughter was the last thing Jun heard before all chaos broke loose. 

[frustratedcastingdirector]

A Very Thoughtful Review Examining WHY "The Price" Is So Difficult to Get Right -     Talkin' Broadway.com

The Price Theatre Review by Matthew Murray - March 16, 2017 

Arthur Miller's The Price Directed by Terry Kinney. Set design by Derek McLane. Costume design by Sarah J. Holden. Lighting design by David Weiner. Sound design by Rob Milburn & Michael Bodeen. Hair and wig design by Tom Watson. Original music by Jesse Tabish. Dialect coach Stephen Gabis. Fight consultant Thomas Schall. Cast: Mark Ruffalo, Tony Shalhoub, Jessica Hecht, and Danny DeVito. Theatre: American Airlines Theatre, 227 West 42nd Street between 7th and 8th Avenues Tickets: roundabouttheatre.org 

Subtlety is no great hallmark of Arthur Miller's plays. In some he hides this better (Death of a Salesman) than others (The Crucible), but each must contend with the playwright's natural didacticism that makes them at once compelling and frustrating. This affliction is seldom more pronounced in his oeuvre than it is in his 1968 effort The Price, something you're keenly aware of throughout Terry Kinney's otherwise fine revival for Roundabout at the American Airlines. The glimmering members of its all-star cast grasp for every chance they can to sparkle, only exacerbating the fact that isolated moments, of greatness and mediocrity alike, are about all this play is built on. 

Nowhere is this more noticeable than in the person of Gregory Solomon, played, with ballpark-filling amounts of relish, by a delightful Danny DeVito making his Broadway debut. Though nominally a conflation of one ancient archetype (the money-minded Jew) with another of slightly more recent vintage (the Catskills comic), the part is twisted up with enough sympathy and warmth—however surface-level—that he becomes something a bit more important and mature. His framing as a furniture appraiser tasked with assessing the worth of an accumulated lifetime both helps and hurts this venture. Are this harp, that table, and the bed in the other room worth more than the dozens of other possessions that surround them? Is this style so antiquated that it hasn't a hope of bringing a fair price on the open market? Such are Gregory's concerns.

That they scarcely run much deeper does not stop DeVito, who assaults them with the unwavering brio he might, say, King Lear, and who nails all the laughs and likability inherent in Gregory's cajoling lines. Though tiny of stature, DeVito unleashes an enormous barking voice that grips the room (his and ours) and commands attention. Rather than submitting to the apparent structure of the man, he upends it to prove its vitality and his necessity here. From listening to his around-the-back insistent manner, you can tell exactly why Gregory has been successful and why he's survived well into his mid 80s and could just as easily endure to 110. He knows that life is about grabbing what you can, while you can, and making the best of it, and trusting that everything else will sort itself out. 

The problem with Gregory isn't just that his style conflicts with and overwhelms everything else in The Price, it's that by doing so he could not be more thematically obvious. The lessons he represents are a brightly flashing counterbalance to the main story, about the family who hired him for the job. Victor Franz (Mark Ruffalo), a career policeman who just passed retirement age and is pondering his future, picked Gregory's name out of a phone book to take charge of the houseful of stuff left behind by his deceased parents now that the building in which it's all crammed is about to be torn down.

Victor hopes to make enough money to placate his wife, Esther (Jessica Hecht), who is tired of living on the edge of poverty after nearly three decades, and to finally free himself from the shadow of his far more successful (and tight-fisted) brother, Walter (Tony Shalhoub). There is, of course, much more going on, as Walter, a doctor Victor believes made himself rich breaking his and his father's backs, has quite a different perspective on the life Victor is so concerned with escaping. 

The central trio is robustly developed, as you'd expect from Miller; he knew his lower-middle class (upper-lower class?) subjects intimately, and always invests them with size and dignity. Victor is convincingly beat down by a life he should never have lived, Esther by her refusal to abandon the faint hopes that have sustained and enslaved her, and Walter by the success that's long separated him from his family. And each of these concerns is respected and addressed.

But Miller's method of doing so results in a plot that synopsizes far better than it plays. He so front-loads all the questions and rear-loads all the answers (including some to questions that aren't asked) that The Price feels less like a finished drama than a staged reading of a sketchbook, with every idea verbalized but few connecting threads tying them all together. Much must be taken on faith, if faith that you're not given a chance to build on your own; it's dropped upon you when needed. The only way for this to work (as well as it can, anyway) is if the cast is so in tune that you don't question the presence of the divisions between them from the get-go; you discover what the issues are, not that they are.

Good though the members of this cast might be, they fall short of that ideal and don't register as either an integrated family or an integrated ensemble. Ruffalo's existentially exhausted Victor doesn't occupy the same emotional universe as Hecht's upscale-slumming Esther or Shalhoub's low-key, good-guy-gone-wrong Walter. Each of their performances would make sense alone, and their monologues, temporarily walled off from the direct input of others, are as strong as this production gets. But because the last third of the play revolves around exploring how and why linked souls can be forced to make different, life-altering choices, the explanation stutters when coming from three people who aren't withering appendages of the same issue-laden family. 

If Kinney could have unified them more, his staging is otherwise strong, with the oppressive nature of the brothers' personal history kept constantly in sharp focus. Derek McLane's dreamlike set highlights this, with its many floating furniture pieces and imposing cityscape in the background; it's aided by Sarah J. Holden's class-conscious costumes and David Weiner's moody lights, which capture the same mood, though Jesse Tabish's original music veers a bit too much toward melodrama to support the Serious Intentions that are otherwise out in full force. 

Except, of course, with DeVito, though you won't find yourself doubting that he and Gregory take their charge seriously. They land with more immediate power than anything else, and if that's disrupting to the fragile alchemy, it makes those chunks of the evening enjoyable. Still, misapplied charm can grate, and as Gregory keeps injecting himself into the action just when he's needed to resolve a simmering conflict, you may wish he'd just let the leads alone to work on their problems in peace. There's no mistaking Miller's hand in driving his points home, as with a jackhammer. The unavoidability of that is all the more reason to treat The Price with the gentle, thoughtful touch it doesn't receive enough of here.