#but also when they heard Orpheus speak in game they asked ‘did they make Orpheus a lesbian??’

[foldingfittedsheets]

The only way I can think of you looking when I read about you is a rule 63 of Hades’ rendition of Orpheus.

Okay wait I had to google this. So basically rule 63 is there’s a gender swap of the character, so I’m like a female Orpheus? But the Hades Orpheus is a he/they if I’ve ever seen one. We’re both nonbinary if anything.

He’s also just the saddest wettest man and it’s fascinating that that’s your image of me.

[idyllcy]

bet that you'll let me down by double

Word Count: 5.2k || Inspiration: Pic 1 ; Pic 2

Warnings: Hanahaki, Star tears

Summary: Where the vocalist nearly loses their voice and the pianist his sight

Art school is not for everyone.

Komaeda realizes that upon entering Hope's Peak, the music school is filled to the brim with talent and non-talent alike. Some pay and make donations to get in, while others are just talented; Very few attend the school on pure talent. Komaeda actually struggles to find someone who hasn't paid or made a donation to get in. Komaeda can't really call them awful when he also paid to get in. Though, he actually only paid because he wanted to meet someone. There was a rumor about a lyre player, something relatively rare nowadays.

He finds the lyre player sitting near the cracked and damaged statue of Orpheus. You resemble the man, sitting there with your lyre in your arms, stringing along mindless notes and melodies. Your body is lax against the statue, almost as if you were imitating the prince himself. The wind blows against Komaeda's face, and he stares at you, and how the sun seemed to kiss your skin despite the clouds being out. It was like a renaissance painting, the way everything was set up. Your eyes meet his briefly.

But with the next gust of wind, you're gone before his eyes.

There isn't much news about you around the school. The rich mingle with the rich; a handful adopt talented ones, whom they call friends. In reality, they're no better than a human pet. Komaeda finds it sickening, yet he can't help but think that it is one way to secure a musician to keep at home. Musicians aren't rare, but talented ones are. Komaeda stares across the dining hall at the other groups, and Hinata calls his name.

"Komaeda."

"Ah, yes?" He glances at the male.

"Did you find them?"

"I did," He hums, cutting into his steak. "But, they don't seem to be around?"

"Try the vocal department," Chiaki's fingers fly across her keyboard, staring at her game. "I've talked to them once. They have a very well kept voice."

"Like a classical singer?"

"Opera, perhaps," She hums. "The condition of their hands doesn't matter when it comes to being a vocalist. Something about... 413?"

"What an unlucky room." Kamukura finally speaks up. "To be linked with the number of death."

"It's just a practice room," Hinata grumbles. "It doesn't mean anything."

Komaeda finds you in the room while you're on break. A delicate knock at the door greets you, and you open it slightly to peer up at your guest. You're met with a cloud of white hair and curious green eyes. It's not that late, but the sun glares against his back, causing him to look darker than he was. The two of you stare at each other in silence before Komaeda speaks up.

"Ah, I do apologize for intruding at such a time," Komaeda starts. "You see, I was just curious about the lyre player I met the other day, and someone suggested I come here. I guess they were right, because you're here. Ah, right. I wanted to ask you, would you be willing to sing for me? I can pay. I just wanted to see what talent everyone else was talking about. You see, it's really hopeful that-"

You blink at him as he rambles. He's one of the students who had paid to get in. Komaeda. Something Komaeda. You heard about the boy; and how despite being an orphan, he still managed to pick up piano and violin and a whole array of instruments. How his music made no sense yet was still considered art. You wonder why he had to pay to get in if he was a musical talent.

"Ah... sorry," He apologizes. "I'm rambling. So? The answer is?"

You stare up at him and pull your phone from your skirt pocket. The sound of your keyboard fills the silence. "How much?"

"Any price you want."

"Why can't you just wait until a student talent show?"

"You participate in those?"

You nod.

"Say... why don't you speak?"

"Why should I? I work it hard enough by singing already."

"Instead of a show, can I watch you warm up?"

You stare at him.

"5AM tomorrow morning. Don't be late."

Komaeda gets the door slammed into his face, and he blinks. He has insomnia, which is literally perfect because he could just wander the school until you made it there. He wonders which dorm you're staying in. Maybe you would be in one of the moon dorms. The school tended to favor musicians in a moon dorm and creators in a sun dorm. He rocks on his feet as he waits for you to exit the room. 

You leave the room, and you stare at the male. You tilt your head.

"Ah, I wanted to walk you to your dorm," He smiles sheepishly. "You know the recent serial crimes on campus?"

You stare up at him and nod.

"So... which dorm?"

You point at the sky and then at the constellation.

"Ah, Taurus?" He smiles. "That's my star sign."

You tilt your head again, almost as if you were telling him that it was interesting.

"Shall I tell you about the stars?"

You pull out your phone again, and the sound of your keyboard bounces off the empty halls.

"No need. What instrument did you end up here for?"

"Ah, I play both piano and violin. They're letting me dual major."

"Anything else?"

"You're a vocal major?"

You nod.

"Ah, then do you play the lyre for fun?"

You nod again.

"Right," He hums. "What's your range? How many octaves? Are you a soprano? A tenor?"

You click on your phone and shove it into his face. 

It's a recording of you.

Komaeda takes the phone from your hand, clicking it open. You stand in the studio, mouth open, notes flying out. You can hit an F6. You're well within coloratura range, if not even higher from the way your voice keeps going up. Komaeda is enthralled. Your voice is incredible. You have such an impressive range, and as Komaeda stops in his steps to listen to your voice lower and lower until he can feel the vibrations through his chest, he's gone. It's elysian. Would that even begin to describe it? Oh, Komaeda swore that he could never worship a voice that wasn't yours.

You pause to stare at him, and your eyes blow wide in worry when he starts crying.

"?!" Your hands reach his face, and you start brushing his tears away.

"Sorry," He grabs your wrist gently and sets it down next to him. "Your voice is incredible. It's opulent. It's ethereal. I can't even put it into words!!"

Your eyes widen in surprise as Komaeda clasps both of your hands.

"Oh, please let me be your accompanist! I'll do anything for it! I'll even pay you-"

You stop him and nod. You can't reach for your phone, so you speak up. "I'll send you the scales for warmups. Don't be late."

Your voice. Oh. Even your voice! Komaeda's so drunk on the way your voice comes out that he forgets to pull out his phone for a moment.

"...Komaeda?"

"A-Ah, I'm sorry!" He hands you his phone, eyes wide with admiration. "You have a nice voice."

You sound heavenly calling his name like that.

Only as you pull away does Komaeda notice that the two of you have arrived at the dorms. He stares at you enter the building; and then he leaves to head to his own room. His is a constellation dorm. One that's actually named and has a story. As he steps into his room, he's met with Hinata and Chiaki curled up on the couch, playing Mario kart.

"Welcome back," Hinata mumbles, fingers busy with trying to overtake the ultimate gamer. "Did you find them?"

Komaeda doesn't answer and heads to his room instead. He stares at the clock on the wall, and he closes his eyes. The sound of your voice fills his head, and he falls asleep. He wonders what your nighttime routine is.

You stare at the next song you've been assigned for class, and you grimace. Something gentle. It's love-related, again. You don't question it, and you grimace instead. It gave the vibes of a love you couldn't hold. Something unreachable. Someone who struggled with loving themselves. You understand, yet you don't. It's hard to sort out emotions when you don't feel them. You laugh. Your sister would laugh at you for something so trivial. You press the keys on the piano, mapping out the melody. It would be a final project, you suppose.

The next morning, you unlock room 413, and as you're about to close it behind you, Komaeda reaches you.

"Sorry," He pants. "I woke up a little late. I was excited to be your accompanist today." 

You nod, and you let him into the room before locking it behind you.

"Is it a habit?" 

You nod. You reach for the small whiteboard on your desk, and you glance at him.

"Did you practice the scales?"

Komaeda shakes his head. "Sight-reading. Shall we start?"

His fingers glide on the keys as you warm up your voice. To him, you were like the moon. Or... the sun perhaps? The way your voice lit up the room, welcoming the new day. Komaeda watches the sunrise through the window when he's finished with the scales. You resembled him, the ancient god of music that the Greeks adored. The sun kisses your face, and you turn to stare at Komaeda. 

"Hm?" You smile at him. "Did you practice the piece?"

"I read over it this morning," Komaeda chuckles. "It was the reason I was late."

"Ah," You smile. "I see."

"You're talking now?"

"After warming up my voice," You smile. "I talk for a little in the morning. When I wear out from speaking, I have to rest my voice."

"Why so?"

"If I don't," You stare at the clock on the wall. "Then I will talk too much."

Komaeda's eyes widen as you finish packing. "Too much?"

You throw your bookbag over your shoulder and open the door. Komaeda rushes after you with his bookbag and chuckles. "You like talking?"

"Yes," Komaeda hears the way your voice shifts to air, and he smiles. 

"Then I look forward to our conversations."

"As well as I," You separate from him to your first class, while he meets up with his classmates. 

Komaeda finds that you do like talking. During the times when you're not busy preparing for your song, the two of you hang out at the town's cafe. The school was built in the mountains purely for musical purposes. Komaeda watches you shine with the sun as it rises out of the mountains. The glow embraces you, covering you in an untouchable veil. Yet, as you hold your hand out to him in the morning, Komaeda is able to touch the light, even if it burns him for a moment.

To you, Komaeda resembles a moon. His hair is fluffy like clouds, and the way his eyes are a bright green almost resembles a clean pasture. One where the moon kisses the morning dew goodbye and the tired trees goodnight. When the two of you finish practice for the evening, Komaeda stares at you, the moon shining above his head. Just as you bring in a new day, he welcomes the evening. You reach for him, even if it costs you a bite from the cold, because the sun adores the moon and never stopped chasing after it.

It comes as a flower field first.

"Did you know? My mom used to grow these when I was younger," Komaeda stares at the plant. "They're a symbol of hope apparently."

Then, it comes as an itch in the back of your throat.

You unscrew your thermos, and finish the rest of your water. 

"Are you alright? Should we stop today?" Komaeda glances at your empty thermos. "Your throat sounds scratchy."

"It's fine," You swallow. "I'm going to refill this. I'll be back."

You walk to the fountain slowly. There isn't anything that slows you down, yet the itch in your throat feels foreign. It doesn't feel like a cold or a scratchy throat. It's almost as if something were alive back there. You pause that train of thought. What the hell could live in your throat? You pause to stare at the flowers on campus and turn to head to face the fountain. An uneasy feeling bubbles in the back of your mind.

The rest of practice flows as normal. 

You sit to the side as Komaeda practices his piano piece before the two of you lock the room. The same feeling from before claws at you. You feel something crawl up your throat, and you burst into a coughing fit. Komaeda pauses in his playing to rush over to you, and you spit something out from your mouth.

"Are those... flower seeds?"

"What the fuck?" You stare at the seeds in your hand. 

"Should we take you to the nurse? I can pack our stuff up quickly-"

As Komaeda turns around to pack your things, you pull something from your tongue. A petal. A gladiolus petal. It's the same stupid flower that Komaeda told you his mom grew. You stare at the petal, and then grimace at yourself. How pathetic.

"I'm fine," You mince the petal with your fingers and head to your bag. "Keep practicing. I'll just retire early for tonight. I have a second key in my dorm. Be sure to lock up properly."

"Are you sure?" Komaeda glances at you as he catches the keys.

"Yes," You swallow again. "I'll text you tomorrow. This shouldn't be something that bad."

It's better the next day. If anything, the coughing and scratching stops for three days completely. You don't think of it as much until the next time you're coughing your lungs out again. The scratches feel worse than before. Yet, this time, it's still only petals. Four petals come out of your mouth each time you cough. You call off practice with Komaeda for a week until your throat returns to normal. It's some weird mood swing your throat keeps hissing out.

"Are you alright? Are you sure we can have practice today?" Komaeda frets.

"Yes," You finish the water. "I promise."

Your voice is a little raspy from the coughing, but you manage to finish practicing with him. You sit down to review your piece, while Komaeda practices his. The sound of keys flutters through the room, and you grimace at your song. You're throwing up literal flowers for someone yet you still can't convey what the song means. It's ironic. You stare at the lyrics. It's hard to digest. It's as if your mind refuses to listen to the words. You want to sing it. But your mind won't accept it. You don't want to be someone who loves like that.

You frown at your music while Komaeda dances with his. His allegros prance around the room, pulled along by eight notes and sixteenth notes. His legatos pull your heart along slowly, swinging you gently in his arms, spinning you around in his arms. He tugs at your heartstrings, and you give them to him. Even if the familiar crawling in the back of your throat returns, you don't stop listening. His music brings you life, as yours brings him peace.

The moon eats away at the sun slowly. The petals start out small. They don't bother you that much at first. Then, they grow. Slowly. You hate it. It's disgusting. Your voice grows more ragged with each day. You can still sing, it's just your voice doesn't seem to come out properly. Some days the petals are extra bad. Other days they're more mellow, and they don't sting as much. The doctor tells you you have six months to live unless you decide to get the surgery.

You don't want it.

An artist's life is tied to their heart. The mere fact that your emotions could be destroyed forever because of a surgery was horrifying. You would rather die with lungs filled with flowers than a heart devoid of emotion. Music is dead without a heart to pull along. You stare at Komaeda, and you feel your lungs compress. Ah. Another coughing fit.

Komaeda rushes over to you, leaving his papers a mess near the piano. It hurts worse this time. But the second Komaeda raises his voice to call a friend, your hand meets his phone.

"I'm fine," Your voice is hoarse. "This year's fall cold is just affecting me extra bad."

Komaeda doesn't believe you, but the way your eyes plead him to drop it makes him hang up. He grimaces, and instead, he ends practice for the day. The two of you pack up, and he walks you back to your dorm.

You stare up at the moon. "Whatever causes night in our souls will leave behind stars." you whisper.

"The stars love the moon," Komaeda smiles. "But the moon loves the sun, just as the sun chases the moon for eternity."

You close your eyes as your hand wraps around the handle.

"But the sun turns colder with each cycle," You mumble. "And one day, it will inevitably burn out while chasing the moon."

You call off practice for three weeks, unable to sing for a week, and then recover the next two. Komaeda drops by your dorm's drop-off box, leaving you notes from class and herbal tea. He wishes you a speedy recovery. Your lungs tighten with each letter he sends, and although you don't throw up any more petals, your lungs still burn. It hurts. Loving someone who doesn't love you hurts. It burns the back of your throat. You contemplate dropping out completely. You can't do that. You need to graduate.

You return to practice three weeks later with an even bigger thermos and a scarf around your neck. Komaeda worries that you aren't fully recovered, but anymore delay would mean that you couldn't nail the entire song into your mind. You need a pianist to bring it to life for you.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," You cough lightly. "Let's start."

The song, Komaeda realizes, is cruel. Unrequited love is cruel. But even as he hears your voice grow scratchier each day, he realizes something. This can't be a cold. Your throat doesn't scratch for that long, especially if you're taking care of your voice like each day is your last. It's something else. Komaeda stares at the way you sing the song, brows furrowed in concentration. Your voice is smooth, yet something pains it. 

He's not stupid. He knows you're sick with something more chronic. But he doesn't know what it is. You have no symptoms except for coughing. On the other hand, he struggles with his vision. His tears burn away at his eyes. He seldom cries. The damages are minimal, but with you sick and him unable to turn a blind eye, he'd rather suffer than put more on your plate. But the sound of twinkling each time he feels his heart burn eats away at his eyes. 

So the two of you keep to yourselves. 

It's companionship. It's not friends. You aren't friends. You aren't close. The two of you are no more than accompanist and performer. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter to you as your lungs are eaten away, and his ability to see color is destroyed. It doesn't matter as the flowers you throw up turn into bulbs, and his tears start forming actual crystals. It doesn't matter, because both of you are musicians pulled along by your ability to love. 

You find it harder and harder to sing each day with Komaeda. It's hard. Your throat burns. Your voice box hurts. After each song, you're burning and crying and scratching for air. But you can't remove your stupid feelings, or else your ability to feel might be removed with it. You have to graduate. It doesn't matter if you never get loved back. You'll die before you get the chance to.

"Komaeda," You sit down one day.

"Yeah?"

"I have hanahaki." You open your thermos, and Komaeda's jaw drops.

"H-hanahaki? How? Who are you in love with?"

"I can't tell you who," You stare at the tea in your hand. "But I just wanted to let you know. I'll probably die right after the performance. I have... three months left... maybe?"

"You can't die," Komaeda stares at you. "If you die then how the hell am I going to recover from my sickness?"

"You're sick?"

Komaeda stares at you in the eye for the first time since the two of you have met. His eyes are pale without color. There's a little green left, and your eyes widen in horror. 

"How long? Who are you in love with?" You rush, and your hands meet his face, staring into his eyes in a mixture of horror and fear. "Komaeda? Are you alright? You can't lose your vision! How are you going to sight-read?!"

Komaeda stares up into your eyes, a smile on his face. "A name for a name?"

You swallow.

"You go first."

"No," Komaeda shakes his head. "You go first."

You shake your head. "I can't."

"Then neither can I," He smiles. "Why won't you tell them?"

"They don't love me back," You smile, a painful look in your eyes. Komaeda wants to assure you that it'll be fine, but he knows it won't. 

Komaeda isn't in love with you. You realized that when you watched him stare at Hinata in his friend group. You, the lyre player and vocalist, fell for a man who fell in love with his best friend. It hurts. His burns away at his eyes, while yours burns away at your lungs. Komaeda fell for his best friend. He thinks it's pathetic. You think you're pathetic. You're the stranger in this story. You never belonged. Komaeda has a place as a friend; you have no place in this friendship.

Komaeda loses all ability to see color one day.

It comes slow, and when you open the door to the room, you drop your bag in horror. His eyes are colorless.

"I can't see color anymore," Komaeda laughs, tears running down the side of his cheeks. "So? How are your lungs?"

"It isn't the time!" Your lungs hurt right now. "How are you going to see?"

"Without the presence of the sun, what lights up the shadows," He smiles, the tears dried on his cheeks. "There is nothing-"

"Moonlight. Moonlight will illuminate it. Even when the sun goes down, even in the places where the sun doesn't reach. The moon will be there." You hold Komaeda's hands and stare up at him. The flowers burn in the back of your throat. It doesn't matter. He has to live. You can't live your last months without him. "Please, Komaeda, you need to be able to see in color, or else everything you play will be in black and white."

Komaeda smiles at you. "How long will it take?"

"It wont," You grimace. "You can't heal star tears."

Komaeda leans into the palm of your hand. 

"How I wish it were you instead."

"Maybe then I wouldn't be coughing up flowers," You stare at him. "Do you? I wish it were you too."

Komaeda smiles. "Take a rest for today?"

"I can sing on my own," You smile. "Take your time."

The flowers crawl up your throat quickly. It becomes less of a thing of will you survive, and more of a will you be able to sing at your graduation. You have to be able to sing, or else you won't be able to graduate. You hate this. You hate yourself. You hate everyone else. How come you can't have a love that's returned? Your song mocks you. The crescendos taunt you, and the diminuendos pull you down into an endless spiral. Your fortes grow harder and harder, and the pianos laugh at you for being in love with someone who doesn't love you back.

"Let's take a walk today," Komaeda stares at your sick form. "Please?"

You grab the lyre with you in case.

His eyes are dull without color. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom since it's spring. The pink catches in your hair, and you don't brush it off. Slipping off your shoes, your toes meet the grass. It's calming. The pink doesn't remind you of the flowers you throw up anymore. It provides you with a sense of peace. That even as the gladiolus flowers bloom in your chest, the cherry blossoms on the tree still blossom and dance in the wind. You smile.

Komaeda stares at you, his heart light. You look happier.

You strum the strings on the lyre, spinning under the tree. Your lungs feel lighter. Your heart had forgotten how to breathe. It doesn't matter anymore. If you would die, you would go out like a star. Burning until there's nothing left to burn and bursting the world back into color for Komaeda. There had been a legend that star tears were reversible with the right conditions, and you would meet those before you go.

"Komaeda-kun! Let's go see the stars tonight!" You beam at him.

Komaeda stares at you, a gentle smile on his face this time. "Sure." anything to make you happy.

Komaeda pauses. Anything to make you happy? He stares at the way you dance under the tree, a blissful smile on your face. You. He was in love with you. His heart clenches, and he sighs. You were in love with someone else. There was no way his luck would play into his hand this time. He wondered what you wanted to do under the stars. Maybe you would laugh and tell him who you really liked. It didn't matter. He stares at the way the sun paints your skin, and the way you seem to glow. If the moon loved the sun until she was burned dry, then Komaeda was more than willing to dry out for you.

Night falls, and as you sneak out your dorm, the stars seem to sparkle brighter than before.

"Why'd you call me out so late?" Komaeda catches you in his arms, and you smile down at him.

"Because the stars hear your prayers, and the moon answers them." You pull him along under the stars. Komaeda passes the endless music buildings and classrooms as you pull him higher and higher up the main building. Komaeda watches the way your hair flies behind you, and for a moment, he thinks the moon is a much better fit for you. The moon embraces you with her warmth, yet it doesn't suit you. Komaeda hopes this moment never ends.

You finally slow down, and Komaeda stares at the glass conservatory on the roof of the school. It was for the few who studied astrology at the school. He wonders how you found this place. But then again, when has the sun never loved the moon with their whole heart? And Komaeda realizes. 

"Hm? I heard there was a meteor shower, so I thought we could sit here as the astrology students watched in the grass field." You smile at him. "Hm?"

"A meteor shower?"

"There was a rumor," You lie down on the tiles of the floor. "That anything can come true when it's a wish under a meteor shower. It was a story I heard from an astrologist student, haha."

Komaeda lies down next to you, and he stares at the grey sky. It's all grey. The sky looks black other than the stars sticking out. They look like freckles. Komaeda turns his neck to stare at you, and glances back up at the sky. Something is moving.

"They're here!" You beam, pointing up. 

Ah, those were shooting stars.

"Make a wish, Komaeda-kun," You close your eyes and clasp your hands together. Komaeda stares at the stars. He hoped you could recover from your sickness. He stares at the way your hands are clasped together almost childishly and how your brows are furrowed in concentration. He wonders what you wished for. Maybe for your own quick recovery? He didn't mind. 

The months fly by, and your coughing fits grow worse. You step into the doctor's office for the first time in months, right before your performance. Your lungs are full of flowers. It was a miracle that you could even speak right now. You have two days. One for the performance today and another for tomorrow to say your goodbyes. You rush back to change on time before the performance.

Art without heart is a scary thing. The crowd stares at the way you leave a trail of flowers behind you as you step onto the stage. Normally, it would be pretty, yet as you stop in front of the audience next to the piano, they see the way your dress is made of individual petals, which eventually turn into bloody flowers. It was a statement. The song was an experience you went through. But everyone's thoughts are stopped when you open your mouth. Despite the scratchiness from the damage from the gladiolus flowers, your voice is still honey to the ears.

Komaeda sways along with your voice, his fingers dancing on the keys. He follows you as you climb the crescendo, and he follows you as your voice skips down the diminuendo. The ritardando turns your spinning into a sway; the accent makes you bounce on stage. Your voice is full of life despite the meaning behind the words. Your heart is being eaten away. A slice of your heart is provided for their happiness. A piece of your lung is given for their joy. You're being eaten away at by your over. And as you hit the final note and bow, a flurry of flowers slip past your lips, finishing the tale.

Komaeda rushes over to you as you stumble, catching you in his arms. You stare up at him, a smile on your face. A little bit of blood slips past your lips, and he wipes it with his thumb, his other arm hooked behind your waist.

"I love you," You smile.

Komaeda stares at you, his heart suffocating his chest. 

"I love you too," He presses his lips to yours, and the once silent crowd cheers.

And as his lips meet yours on the stage, the colors burst back into his vision, painting you the most gorgeous of colors. You look ethereal under the stage light. He could only dream of what you would look like under the sun in color again. He's in love with you, and he could only be in ecstasy over the fact that you're in love with him too.

He leans his forehead against yours, his voice a whisper again.

"I love you too."

The flowers in your lungs blossom into nothing as the sun presses its lips to the moon's.

The stars twinkle in the distance.

[hollywoodx4]

You all asked for another set of my trash human Hadestown hot takes so.....

I think maybe I should just start from the beginning and go from there, and sprinkle some details in when I think about them. And since you’ve mentioned before that detail is a good thing, I’m going to try really hard to articulate the 500 versions of “I can’t” and “She did that” and “UM” and “GIRL” Also as always, I apologize, but this is honestly a lot of Eva and Reeve heavy content. I love all of the cast, they are all so phenomenally talented and wonderful, but as usual my mind has chosen to hyper-focus on two things so this is what it is.)

(So. I’m thankful for this platform because before my notes were ALL “Um” and “Girl” and now you guys are motivating me to actually write what I’ve been thinking about non-stop all day on my one hour of sleep. So. Thank you! I went about labeling every song-and I actually end up having thoughts for every one, because I went back and listened through and wrote down what I could remember/the things I thought were relevant for the people that won’t be able to see it outside of the boot that literally everyone but me has at this point).

This is only act I. This is a loooooong hot take. This is a lot of Eva and Reeve specific commentary. This is just a lot of commentary. I think it’d be cool/beneficial/whatever to listen as you read? LOL thanks for coming to my actual, legitimate 5 page essay on Act I.

So. My overarching thought of the night (and, actually, I think I mentioned this when I was there two weeks ago too) is that Eva has been playing an incredibly soft Eurydice lately. Compared to when I was there for previews in April, or even back in August, it seems like each time I’ve gone back she just gets softer and softer, and it’s made me so incredibly happy to see her characterization grow. I do see Eurydice as someone who has been through a lot, and does have that tougher skin, and I think that Eva does a fantastic job in representing that in Any Way the Wind Blows. She keeps her voice strong and consistent, and has this look on her face that’s a cross between worry, wavering confidence, and just this tough shell of a girl who’s trying not to look like she’s given up. And this works so incredibly well when she meets Orpheus. Because I’m telling you, the flip in her demeanor happens in the most noticeably beautiful way during Wedding Song. But first, let’s talk about the fact that I’m not sure who decided that it’d be a good idea that Eva play with fire during this song, and aesthetically it’s just such a MOMENT to see Eurydice looking bored, head down on her arms on the table, eyes wide and uninterested/exhausted/hungry as she runs each of her fingers through the flame (and, at times, pauses to inspect the finger she’s just put into the fire, rub it against another finger or the table, and then begin her game again) I don’t know why this has become one of my favorite things about the staging but? I imagine this being something Eurydice just does sometimes to keep herself from thinking about how hungry she is, and it becomes a habit so that in the iteration where they both make it out of Hadestown and live happily ever after Eurydice just does this one time and makes poor Orpheus jump out of his skin worried that she’s somehow going to send herself back down by doing this. Because they still are walking on eggshells about the fact that they made it out and here she is playing with fire, LITERALLY. Okay, moving on....

So. What I like about Wedding Song live is that her speaking voice just. It’s a bit higher, softer. She still carries the teasing tone, but there’s just this incredulous lift in “is he always like this?” and a lot of laughter in “Oooh, he’s crazy.” and Reeve plays Orpheus so sweet and innocent that you can’t help but feel bad for this bumbling idiot stumbling over himself at this beautiful girl sitting there looking completely cool and collected. But. There’s a beautiful thing about the composition and balance Eva is able to maintain in that you can see that Eurydice is openly intrigued, but keeps herself guarded in a playful sort of way. Almost like she can’t keep herself guarded and wants to let her guard down. Her smile kills me over and over again during this scene. Again, Eva’s Eurydice has turned into quite the small, beautiful romantic and I just am so in love with everything that she has subtly changed and morphed, the girl is an absolute QUEEN.

Also, I can’t go any further without saying a big THANKS to Eva for making me cry the SECOND I heard her start to sing Any Way the Wind Blows and just continue that train all night long. What a fucking night.

Okay, so my favorite thing about Epic I is the sheer power that small boy Orpheus has in singing his la laas for the first time. I remember distinctly having the most goosebumps the first time I witnessed this back in April, and every single time it just. Leaves me breathless. And I think now that it’s been a few times, the goosebumps come from knowing how significant this melody will be throughout the show. But Reeve’s facial expressions as he sings them? Make you believe that la is the most important syllable in the dictionary. He closes his eyes and just feels the music and plays his guitar and he is just so phenomenally talented that WOW. Also my favorite small part of this song is that during my favorite line “with them the cycle of the seed and the sickle, etc.” he spins in circles while playing and singing and just. It’s the smallest amount of choreography that feels the most necessary, as if it’s Orpheus becoming so enraptured with the music that he has to move! And it’s in the middle of the tables that are in the “bar,” with the workers and Eurydice looking on and watching him tell this tale. It all feels so incredibly genuine-it makes you believe that Orpheus singing to the workers is something they’ve witnessed, almost something they look forward to when they come to the bar. I think it has to do with the fact that they’re all just watching him, intrigued but also settled in? As if this is routine, this is comfort, his songs are meant for them and for this little community he has. Even when he plays the first note of the Epic they’ve settled in and are sitting up watching him and listening intently. It gives his character a lot of soft power and dynamic without having to say anything, establishing him as an integral part of this life without so much as a word.

Uhhh Living it Up On Top is just my most favorite feel-good bop. Why? Because of the ensamble. Watching them dance is a blessing. It honestly feels like watching a fucking family reunion freestyle dance party every single time. You can physically see and feel how close this cast is; they make faces at each other, they laugh, and also this instrumental break included the Eva Noblezada booty drop which is EVERYTHING. And she also did a full leg extension kick this time which. Girl. Save some talent and cuteness for everyone else. I also find it extremely appropriate that during all of this kickass dancing and partying our boy Orpheus in all of his gangly, limbly qualities can be found sort of flitting around the stage, taking Persephone’s coat, then Eurydice’s, then putting things away and moving around giving out the cups to toast- like. It’s lowkey established in this scene that he’s 10/10 not the cool and effortless one in this relationship and is the cute small boy child. And I don’t know if that’s because I think that Eva’s really cool and charismatic and Reeve is a bit more shy in a crowd situation, but that’s 100% how this comes off to me/how I perceive the characterization and I’m here for it. And when the line “to the patroness of all of this, Persephone” came up Reeve was like 10 octaves higher than the cast recording, all squeaky and flustered. And then between that and his next line, he took a breath and smiled the big stupid baby Orpheus smile that makes him so charming-if you weren’t rooting for him before now you’re messed, but after the smile? And the high-toned, flustered rambling toast? Makes it impossible not to love him. (Also “to the world we dream about…” is my most favorite Hadestown quote so. I choked because every time I hear it, especially as genuine and sweet as Reeve says it as he looks out at the crowd, and then at the audience, is just. It makes you feel the reality that this show crosses with its messages and its story as a whole). And then after they drink their toast they all sputter and cough, and then the ending when they all sing “HOW ARE WE LIVING IT” it literally is so powerful and dynamic, I love this ensemble so fucking much. Their energy truly fuels the show. We are blessed.

OOOOHKAY CHILDREN BUCKLE UP FOR ME BEING DECEASED. Because All I’ve Ever Known? Um Eva, what the fuck? In a good way. In the way that the second she started singing I started crying immediately. Because I’ll say it again, she’s just become so soft and romantic that I can’t even handle it. The distinct memory I have from this song (where I literally almost hit my cousin because I went from heart-eyed staring with no breathing and my head in my hands like the stupid hopeless baby lesbian that I am to breathing everything in all at once and coughing a BIG cough of just. Literally just love.) During “You take me in your arms, and suddenly there’s sunlight all around me” Orpheus holds Eurydice with her back to him, and she opens her arms and sings about the sunlight. And I fucking SWEAR TO GOD the smile on her face. Like. Big, wide, eyes closed, you’d 100% fall in love with her the second you saw it too. I don’t know how you couldn’t. She just looks so incredibly happy and peaceful and this is the moment she completely drops her guard (although I’ll say that I believe a lot of it is dropped earlier along. But this moment is a transcendental experience) OH ALSO during the violin instrumental she literally does this like. Handstand split Over Reeve’s head that is so poetically beautiful (that entire choreography is, like. It really just makes the love feel so incredibly palpable, and the fact that this is the turning point of moments where suddenly there are NO MOMENTS where they’re not all over each other is just. It’s a moment.) And then they kiss and it’s flawless and I sob profusely at how beautifully done this entire choreography/moment/existence of two souls happens.

Way Down Hadestown also includes two of my favorite moments; Amber Gray dancing with her body at a 90 degree angle, head looking at the floor, and Orpheus and Eurydice peacing out and sitting to the side sharing a bar stool unable to keep themselves away from each other. Which. Is everything to the point where I literally told my cousin to watch them during this song. Because. His ear kisses (which. I hyperventilated about for like 3 paragraphs back in the beginning of October) are SO MUCH (so tender. So soft. The brushing back of the hair over her ears and the soft spoken words and the head on her head make me want to careen into an abyss and fall in love immediately) but I love them with all of my heart, he is so soft and gentle and it literally feels like such a moment being intruded upon that this is the way these two characters were meant to be played and I will accept nothing else. Also, Eva’s little minor chord, jazzy vocal moment during the last “way down under the GROOOOOOOUND is so beautifully done, I can’t believe she exists and just acts like it’s not a big deal that she can just. Be that good. And I also love the way that this moment is staged; Hades and Persephone are standing on the center turntable, and at those last few “way down, Hadestown, way down under the ground” after “kind of makes you wonder how it feels,” right when it kicks back into the faster tempo the turntable starts to descend. And there’s some fog, and they all stand and watch them go under the ground, and when Eurydice sings the last “way down under…she moves closer to the now hole in the ground and looks deeper, as if she’s so curious as to what is going on.

A Gathering Storm/Epic II I just like that in the OBC recording, Eurydice sounds kind of salty when she says “well, until someone brings the world back into tune, this is how it is.” But I think that it’s perceived more as a kind of matter-of-fact thing, as if watching Persephone descend has brought her back into her shell a little bit, set off some anxieties. She shrugs her shoulders and looks complacent, as if to tell him without as many words that she’s done this before, this is old news, this is going to happen. And when he says “he came for her too soon,” it’s rushed and quiet, but frantic, as if the entire weight of the situation immediately has been cast on his shoulders. And for the most part, that’s all I’ve got for him. The real superstar in this scene is the fucking imagery used to introduce the workers, and the symbolism of the workers AS THE WALL.  So, when he says “With a million hands, he built a wall” the workers ascend from the center turntable in that really tight knit formation we’ve all seen pictures of and it’s just. Watching them in their uniforms come up as he’s talking about this big, brilliant wall and the workers begin to move in unison, then begin their chanting???? The lighting changes, the entire feel changes just based on the workers chanting and really having this ferociously unified choreography. And the most intense facial expressions ever. And they move from the center turntable to the outsides, and then fucking Hades and Persephone come up when the transition happens to Chant and it’s. All you need to completely transform a set is the lighting change, the workers, and the turntable. It’s the most incredible thing to witness this and feel like you’re in a completely different place.

Also, I just always feel for Eurydice in this moment. Because. She’s trying so hard to communicate with Orpheus, who’s standing at the bar stool they’d had their moment at during Way Down Hadestown writing this song, and you can see that she’s trying to be supportive but when she says “is he always like this?” it’s just. Exhaustion. And she says it so much more quiet and defeated than she does on the OBC. It’s heartbreaking. Because at the same point you’re watching Orpheus struggle to write this song, closing his eyes and tapping his feet and just trying to feel and let that feeling translate him into the rest of this song but it just won’t come, and you can see his growing frustration in his furrowed brow and his closed eyes. What I noticed is that during Eva’s little solos “Trying to trust that the song he’s working on is gonna shelter us…” / “I’m trying to believe that the song he’s working on is gonna harbor me from the wind” She hasn’t gone up on the last little phrase like she does on the OBC, which is one of the things I find to be so powerful on the OBC. And it’s still beautiful, but I’m wondering why she’s seemingly been choosing to go down instead of have that little moment of vocal power. OH ALSO. When she says “Give that back! It’s everything we have!” Her voice was BROKEN. And by that I mean she sounded so worried and devastated that. It just. Her voice was cracking as she pleaded for the fates to leave her alone and it was so immensely wonderful, but heartbreaking. Because as she struggles with the fates and their winds, and they rip her possessions from her one by one, she shrinks further into herself as she tries to buck up and continue fighting. But you can see as each thing gets taken (her backpack, her coat, etc) she grows more and more devastated and frightened. And then when they take her jacket, and she has nothing left, and she sings “SHEEEELTER US, HAAAARBOR ME!” She’s on her knees with her head in her hands, rocking back and forth and it is torturous to witness because you just want to cry for her. And Eva’s such a fucking powerhouse that you can feel the raw emotion, the fear and the devastation, and it just consumes. It’s amazing to be broken by Eva Noblezada over and over again, and that’s what she does this entire show. She is phenomenal.

Hey, Little Songbird is a song I don’t really have a lot of notes for. But the one note I do have is that Patrick Page makes everyone so in awe and also slightly frightened or incredibly woke (the amount of small whispers in the audience that compare him to a certain man of political power are to be expected, but always are significant) He also just. Skeeves me out so much in this song, and Eurydice is so broken already that it’s kind of like. She’s resigned and having trouble making sense out of anything that life has just thrown at her, and she keeps going to hold herself because she’s cold and hungry and tortured, and she just. Honestly, she makes the choice seem like one that Eurydice had to make because she looks so lost and hungry and upset and unable to hold herself up anymore that the choice doesn’t seem like a misguided one.

When the Chips are Down If I could have as much talent in my body as these girls have in their pinky finger I’d be set for life. Also, now’s a good time to mention that I had the extreme pleasure of seeing Jessie Shelton step in as a fate and it just. It was a wonderful experience, that girl is incredible. I saw her in August as Eurydice and she did a fantastic job (my only note back then had been that her chemistry with Reeve hadn’t been as strong, but I loved what she did with Eurydice-making her more badass and thick-skinned and over-it and also I genuinely don’t think that the Reeve-Eva chemistry can be matched.) But the flawless nature of these three souls singing together and just. Being the shit-eating-grin, fun to fuck you up, take no prisoners voices inside of your head? It just furthers the interpretation that they are the voices in your head amplified, because while they’re sort of doing their mockery of Eurydice/pushing her for her choice/etc. she covers her ears at one point they’re taunting her and it just. It feels to me as they’re pushing her around that they’re the personification of the battle inside of her heart as well, and she can’t escape the turmoil.

Gone, I’m Gone Me crying because I knew Wait for Me was coming so I was digging through my bag for my tissues and gently laying some on my cousin’s lap. (she hadn’t done a full listen-through of Hadestown before either, so I just. Gently prepared her for what was to come without saying a single word.

Wait for Me Okay, how detailed can I go? I don’t know how to fully capture the immense, all-encompassing, my heart is literally stopped inside of my chest but also full-on beating heavy as possible feeling. The second the first notes started the tears started pouring. I have such a fond memory of seeing this for the first time that every time afterward, I just. MY body kicks into this mode of complete and utter captivation. I’m also an empath so getting to experience a room full of people on the edge of their seats, dead silence, utter captivation and zero breath…..I will never forget this feeling. When I saw Hadestown back in April while it was still in previews, this song was given a 3 minute standing ovation….everyone was just struck and unable to handle the raw emotion. And it still rings true to this day-I was clutching my tissue with such force, watching the lights swing and the workers and their lamps through my tears. The most powerful moment is when the workers come out with their headlamps, and it gets dark-you wonder where you’re being transported to next. It’s a tethering atmosphere. And then, when they plug the lamps in and send them up? When the lamps begin swinging and their lights swing over the audience, casting this brilliant movement and shadow into the air? It holds so much mystery and hope and it gives off this incredible, indescribable power. And the power of the chorus singing along with him? It doesn’t feel like they’re the workers singing along. It feels like Orpheus’s love is so strong and so powerful that the workers are actually just his voice amplifying and exploding and CAREENING AND CREATING ALL OF THIS FUCKING POWER FROM HIS SONG AND HIS LOVE. And also, during the la la las around 1:40 on the OBC recording, when it gets soft and quiet, that’s when the lamps go up into the air, and there’s a rumbling and some fog and the set sort of opens up to reveal sections of bright lights that glow warm, and red. He’s opening the fucking stone wall with his song, people, and it’s the most brilliantly moving staging I have ever seen. Again, you don’t need one million props to captivate an audience. It’s the way the story is told and the music is composed and everything working together. I love this. I love that nothing distracts from the moment, that the las and the workers elevating his voice and the movement of the set and the lights and the fog all come together as one coherent set piece instead of parts of a working machine. It feels so natural that you believe that Orpheus is actually opening the wall with his voice. This piece of theatre is so transcendental that you forget that you’re not actually there. Props to Reeve Carney for existing because the way he performs this song is just so captivating and pure, and you can see the desperation in his eyes but you can also hear it in his voice; it’s more strained (not in a bad or unhealthy way at all, I just mean that it’s like. The culmination of his efforts from the Epic and how hard he was concentrating have elevated his power and he’s just fully unleashing it) You can physically see what I believe-that this strain, this hurt and this hope and this desperation are what lead him to opening the wall. He was able to do it because as he was singing, he was clearly just hurt and so damn determined that he just. He had this red-cheeked, hard-lipped expression while he sang and his body (which I lovingly describe as gangly and limbly) is just. In a power stance. Like. You fully believe in the power of this man during this song, he gives it everything and he is a good portion of the reason it carries its power so immensely through the audience. There’s not a dry eye in the house after. And what I love is the collective, disbelieving mumblings of “oh my god” or “wow” or “he’s incredible” that echo through the room as the applause happens (and lingers, and lingers, until Why We Build the Wall cues us to take a fucking breath) (and the subsequent chatter of people basically asking if what they just watched was real, unable to not mention it during intermission).

Why We Build the Wall This is another one of my all-time favorite Hadestown songs. It just hits so hard. And for a while in the very beginning, I wondered why they didn’t end Act I with Wait for Me. I understand now. I don’t think I fully appreciated this song during my first few listen-throughs, and possibly not even after the first time I saw it. I think that this song deserves to be there because while Wait for Me has a lot of emotional lift and power and just pure mass to it, Why We Build the Wall holds its power differently. It makes the audience kind of shift in their seats, come back to the world we are in, kind of step back from the beautiful show of powerful love and hope and dedication that is Wait for Me and remember that oh, this is what’s going on on the other side. This is the man that’s trying to take everything away from Orpheus. And Patrick Page is such a gently commanding presence during this song-he is strong, and powerful, but in a way that feels scarily easy to him; like he is so confident in his power that it translates to this easy, call-and-response conversation because he knows his workers have no choice but to answer him and to appease him. Also the workers? In this song? Are a sheer force of nature. They look to the audience as they respond to each phrase Hades sings with these set-in-stone, serious, hardened expressions that match each other, and are perfectly in-synch. That’s what terrifies me about the Workers, is that they are so in tune to each other that it truly is like watching a wall, or a well-oiled machine. They do such a beautiful job in creating this sense of unease that this song was absolutely meant to be the ending of act I; they drive you to tears and ferocious emotion with Wait for Me, but they keep you unsettled and uncomfortable and stirred by Why We Build the Wall. And that, my friends, is why this musical was nominated for and won so many Tony’s. Because of it’s ability to make you feel, to ponder and to talk and to interpret. This show is so unique, and wonderful, and full of incredible things that I am always just in awe of it every time I see it.

Carry-Over notes: I skipped around a lot of my notes from the night of the show just because I couldn’t fit the less articulate with my actual thoughts post-show. I listened to the entirety of Act I while doing this, and took notes to the best of my ability and what I could remember.

·        Eva Noblezada is such a soft human being, she is a treasure to this earth and I fully support everything she’s done with Eurydice thus far; soft doesn’t mean weak, and she translates that really well to the way she chooses to carry her. She is a strong woman, but she is so fucking in love that she is also so soft and pure. But you still wouldn’t fuck her up ever

·        A good chunk of my notes from that night are about how Reeve singing the la laas in Epic I is a transcending experience, and how his soft and genuine and gentle expression made me break down immediately, and it can be felt in your soul.

·        I also mention about 100 times that Reeve is 10/10 the only boy who has my heart because he is so artistically passionate and just really really fucking good at what he does (and so, so soft especially in the Orphrydice moments and what I’m calling his making Orpheus canonically obsessed with kissing Eurydice’s ear/side of cheek/neck it is THE SOFTEST MOST PURE THING)

So sorry. This is the longest of ramblings. But you asked for details and honestly I’m really excited to be able to have these long ass notes to save and keep with my playbills to show in the future with my kids or the patrons of the Broadway themed café I want to open when I’m a mid 40s lesbian with a wife and maybe some adopted kids.

[irregularjohnnywiggins]

Random Wondy Series Thoughts, Part the Third

Third part of Woman of Truth, here we go!

Part One

Last Time:

Themyscira being revealed was shut down hard by Etta and the Holliday Girls (all of them Scions), who fought Phobos. Zeus went Hank Pym on Hera, and Ares demanded his kids increase their plan. Meanwhile, Hippolyta did the 2017 arc, and Diana won the games, leaving Themyscira as Phobos summoned Decay to hunt her and Etta down.

Onwards!

We open on the boat, the six Holliday Girls including Etta explaining the general state of life for a demigod, establishing a) Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter exist, and b) the Holliday Girls are a quasi-Hunters of Artemis by way of sorority. We also get introduced to the rest of the Girls, who are:

Glamora Treat, a Scion of Athena who spends a lot of time gazing at Diana and her swimsuit.

Lita ‘Little’ and Thelma ‘Tall’ Rhodes, twin Scions of Mercury and the only two Romans. Tall is currently in the midst of an existential crisis, because she was the tallest of the group at 5’11” until Diana and her 6’2” came along, whereas Little just thinks Diana’s really pretty.

Gell Osey, an unclaimed Scion who spends most of her time glaring at Diana.

Gay. No, seriously, that’s her name. She calls herself Gay because she grew up in the Bible Belt with an unmarried mother and a predilection for being a tomboy, and thus a lot of people saying she should ‘look prettier’ so that ‘people don’t get the wrong impression’. She legally changed her name, just in case they hadn’t gotten the wrong impression yet. She’s also, incidentally, a Scion of Callisto, and literally has two mothers.

Etta keeps making reference to a ‘doctor’, and when Diana asks just says that she’s the ‘smartest person I know’. She further explains that she’s not a Scion, but has forgotten more about mythology and lore than any Scion will ever know.

Steve asks about his co-pilot’s face melting off, and Diana explains that the co-pilot was actually a Keres, a spirit of war released from Pandora’s pythos, musing that Ares must be controlling them somehow.

Cutting to Areopagus, we see it explained: the Keres are attracted to Medusa’s Heart, and Phobos and Deimos then bind them, building what is effectively an army of war spirits for Ares. Kydoimos appears and says he’s found Orpheus’ Gateway, leading the three to disappear.

As the party arrive at Gateway City, Diana gets to have her fish-out-of-water comedy moments, though not too many – whilst Diana doesn’t understand stuff like American culture and what a hot dog or ice cream are, she does understand what watches, cars and marriage are.

When Gay makes the mistake of assuming Hippolyta and Phillipus are married, Diana explains that the Laws of Themyscira state the monarch cannot marry – hence for Hippolyta to marry she would have to abdicate the throne. Hippolyta has offered, but Phillipus won’t hear of it.

Eventually, they arrive at their destination – the house of one Julia Kapatelis, the ‘doc’ Etta keeps referring to.

However, also present is one Professor Barbara Minerva, a former student of Julia’s and the second smartest person Etta knows.

Etta starts stumbling over her words, which Steve lightly ribs her for – what, Diana gets no reaction, but one sight of slacks and she’s done for?

Steve and Etta, btw, are that sibling pairing. At some point, Diana is going to compare them to Artemis and Apollo.

Both Julia and Barbara are fascinated by Diana, Barbara a bit more… possessively than Julia. It’s established that Barbara and Julia had a falling out over Barbara’s compulsive need to seek out knowledge, even stuff she should by no rights be seeking out. Essentially Barbara is Indiana Jones and Julia is more Mau from Terry Pratchett’s Nation. We’re also introduced to Vanessa Kapatelis, who almost immediately starts hero-worshipping Diana.

Then everything changes when Decay and a horde of Keres attacks.

This fight scene seeks to establish several things: that Steve is woefully unprepared and outclassed by almost everything else, that the Holliday Girls work well as a team, that despite Steve, Julia and Vanessa being half-delirious through Decay’s application of the Mist Barbara is completely unaffected, and that for as good a fight as the others might be putting up, Diana is a fucking beast. Some individual action beats:

Glamora directing the entire fight from the sidelines – seriously, even Diana defers to her judgement, albeit only because Glamora knows how to utilize Gateway City’s architecture in their favour.

Tall and Little being really good both at paired combat and at stealth and sabotage.

Etta Charmspeaking Decay at one point, though Decay quickly shrugs it off.

Gay animating a small wooden bear she carries around to grow to massive size and defend the mortals, possibly with a Bible reference.

Most importantly for later, Gell making all the Keres turn tail and run with a single smirk.

Diana throughout her fight trying to talk Decay down, getting her closest when she jury-rigs a lasso out of a stray cable.

Regardless, Decay is eventually killed, and Diana, to the confusion of the Holliday Girls, starts praying for Decay to find peace. Diana explains that Themyscira values all life, even the monstrous, and gives a brief overview of the Medusa myth – with the added information that Athena turned Medusa into a gorgon to protect her.

Cut back to Olympus, where Athena and Aphrodite are watching the process. Aphrodite snarks that that would have been a splendid plan if Athena had actually explained it. Athena tells her to be quiet, then muses that they need to advance their plans, given what Ares’ sons are doing.

Speaking of which, we then cut to Phobos, Deimos and Kydoimos arriving at Gateway City, where, they reveal, Orpheus’ Gateway is located (Orpheus’ Gateway being a way into the Underworld that can only be opened by music.) Forcing a Keres to play a harp, they enter the Underworld.

Back on Olympus, Athena and Aphrodite walk into Hephaestus’ forge, where the crippled god is working. Him and Aphrodite bitch at each other for a bit, where it’s revealed that they have been divorced since the early 1910s, a fact that has apparently driven Hera nuts. Aphrodite is also really embarrassed about her previous association with Ares. Impatient, Athena asks Hephaestus if he’s ready, to which he sighs and says yes.

Back at the Kapatelis Household, Vanessa is geeking out over Diana, whilst the Holliday Girls gang up on Gell and ask her what that whole ‘turn back an army with a smile’ thing came from. Gell shrugs, says she doesn’t know, then asks Etta if she’s sure they can trust Diana. Alarmed, Etta asks her why she would say such a thing, and Gell shrugs and says she just has a bad feeling about her.

Julia and Barbara walk in with Steve, who explains they still don’t know why Ares would choose now to attack Themyscira – he’s checked in and the military is saying nothing, which means either they haven’t heard about the boat exploding or Ares is deliberately supressing the information.

Diana remains convinced that Ares must be attempting something in Patriarch’s World and wanted the Amazons to not be able to intervene. Etta mentions she heard tell of Ares being manipulated by something a couple of years ago – maybe that has something to do with it (yes, Lightning Thief happened the same way – this is going to come up later). Julia wonders why Decay came to Gateway City, leading the Holliday Girls to explain the deal – Gateway City has some of the largest examples of neo-Greek architecture in North America, and as such the Gods prefer to come here more than any other city except perhaps New York. It therefore necessarily has both a gateway to Olympus, and one to the Underworld – Orpheus’ Gateway. Speaking of which:

In Hades, the three sons of Ares are walking along, scanning the horizon for agents of Hades. Eventually, Kydoimos stops and says they’ve arrived. The camera pans to reveal…

The Doors of Death. Suddenly, there’s a flapping of wings and a hooded androgynous figure lands in front of them. Kydoimos demands Thanatos, for it is the Death God, stand aside

(Btw, whilst Thanatos is hooded for this episode, in every other appearance she looks like…

Death of the Endless. Also, whenever he shows up Morpheus is very obviously Daniel Hall’s Dream in a toga. Because I can)

Thanatos says nothing, simply takes out a sword. Phobos, Deimos and Kydoimos charge…

Olympus now, where Hephaestus, Athena and Aphrodite enter the council chamber and approach Hestia. Athena asks if Hestia will help, and Hestia replies that she will, but she will not aid in killing Ares. Athena smiles and say that’s okay, what she has planned for him will be much worse. Hestia turns to Hephaestus and tells him to hold out his hands. She collects a portion of Olympus’ Hearth-fire and, musing that she’s only done this once before, drops it in Hephaestus’ hands.

She warns him to not even attempt to speak untruths whilst holding or working the fire, because it won’t work. She then turns to Aphrodite, who is looking kinda gleeful, and warns her point blank to not even think about abusing that fact, because misuse of the fire will cause it to burn out. Athena thanks her, but Hestia has already turned back towards the fire, although on the way out she warns Athena to be careful – and, above all else, to not destroy the family.

Thus, Phobos, Deimos and Kydoimos’ fight with Thanatos is intercut with Hephaestus working the fire into a very familiar shape…

After extensive research, Julia discovers what might account both for the influx of Keres and Ares’ interest in Themyscira – the Doors of Death. Essentially the pressure-valve of the Underworld, opening the Doors even for a second would cause the worst of the worst to come pouring out the Underworld. Therefore, Ares wanted Themyscira for Doom’s Doorway – which could ensure the Doors remained open forever, resulting in endless war as the dead crawled out of the Underworld and Ares rose as the most powerful god of all.

(Whilst this is occurring, the Ares boyz win their fight and walk over Thanatos’ form to the Doors)

Suddenly, the ground is shook with a mighty earthquake, and there’s a flash of light as Hermes appears, saying that Diana needs to come with him. Diana trustingly places her hand in his and they both disappear to…

Olympus, where Zeus is holding court. This scene establishes something: Diana’s treatment of the Gods goes from loving devotion/submission (the patrons, including Hera) to grudging respect (Hephaestus, Apollo) to ‘hey fuckface, wassup?’ (Zeus and Poseidon)

With Ares not present, Zeus is forced to conclude that he was the one who opened the Doors. He commands Diana to find Ares and bring him to Olympus, with the patrons protesting that it is suicide. Diana, musingly, asks what opening the Doors means. Hermes informs her that although the Doors were only open for a second, the worst monsters and humans Hades has to offer still escaped and are now running rampant. Irritated, Zeus declares humanity not their problem, and not worth saving anyway, has everyone forgotten what they did without the Gods’ help?

Flashing back to Hippolyta, Diana sighs.

She looks at Zeus.

She says ‘No.’

She informs the Olympians that her intention is to secure the Doors, round up the escapees and only then, when people are safe, will she attack Ares, and that if they won’t help her she’ll do it herself. Apoplectic with rage, Zeus is about to command her again, when Hera steps up and says that she’ll have her support. The rest of the patrons and Apollo quickly follow suit, Hephaestus refusing because it’s Hera asking, although he does offer help. Faced with the choice of either losing face or risking war, Zeus agrees grudgingly.

Finally, the patrons step forward to offer her items to be used in this task:

From Athena, a circlet that will allow her to think faster than any human.

From Aphrodite, a breastplate that will allow her to project a low level glamour over her outfit (that can only be broken by spinning, yes this is a Linda Carter joke)

From Artemis, two bracelets that block any and all attacks.

From Demeter, a belt that increases her strength.

From Hermes, a gooey substance that can take whatever form she desires (he mentions he stole it from New Genesis)

And finally, Hestia warmly gifts her the Lasso of Truth, which will compel anyone, be they man or god, to speak truly.

Thanking them all, Diana give the Amazon salute and returns to Gateway City, starting to help with the damage. Zeus and Poseidon both storm off, and all but the patrons leave. Aphrodite asks if Diana is ready for the world, and Hestia says that they should be asking: is the world ready for Diana?

Sometime later:

Diana and Steve look out over a now rebuilt Gateway City. Diana asks what Steve will do now, and Steve admits that he’s thinking about returning to the Air Force. Shocked, Diana asks why, and he says that he feels he can do more there – under a different alias, he can find out how much Ares has infected the place, and who is able to resist him. He then asks what Diana plans to do, and she says she’ll take each day as it comes. Steve teasingly asks if this makes her a hero, and she admits all she knows of heroes are her mother’s stories of Heracles – she doesn’t want to be that kind of hero. Steve, a small smile on his face, says she needn’t worry – she’s definitely not. As a fire engine races past and Diana flies off to help, Steve admits that, whatever else she is, she’s his hero, this one they’re calling Wonder Woman.

We close on Areopagus, Ares watching Diana fly off, musing to himself that he can’t wait to meet her in person as he summons his three children to plan for his endgame – the destruction of Themyscira itself.

So, the pilot’s finally done. Thank you all for being so patient and, as always, any questions you have, just ask and I’ll do my best to answer.

[renaroo]

Promises (5/30)

Disclaimer: Batman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: One Year Later/Evil Cass allusions Rating: T Synopsis: For an entire year after the Crisis which threatened to wipe everything they knew and loved off the Earth, after so many hardships and loved ones lost, Cass and Tim find themselves battling on different sides of the globe not only for the fate of what’s left of the world, but for the sake of once again feeling purpose. [A One Year Later fixer upper]

A/N: WOW. Super long time, no updates. But, hey, I’m back in the swing of things and I’m here to make up for it with a giant chapter of feelings~

Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown for being just a fantastically supportive friend and for giving long ago feedback on this sucker before the hiatus <3

A Grave Awakening

Everyone in Titans Tower had, in some form or fashion, personalized their rooms. Their preferences and needs were all met in every way possible. Which made it somewhat more of a curiosity how the unpowered among them would decorate.

From what Starfire and Cyborg had said to him, Tim had taken the same approach to dressing up his room and locker the way the Robins before him had. Plain and boring.

His colors matched his uniform, and there was a photograph from his, Cassie, Bart, and Kon’s first day at the tower. 

There was some training equipment, a punching bag and the like. 

And endless supply of batarangs should he choose to open any of the doors of his dressers as well as a lot of other equipment. 

A computer desk, a gaming chair that only really got use when Bart invaded some of his personal space. 

Bland was perhaps a word Tim found more apt for his tastes than boring. And that was not any unplanned thing. Tim had known from the start exactly what he was doing. 

Not leaving a mark.

Tim’s grandest fear for years was the belittlement and degradation of the Robin name. That somehow his very use of it, his role, would take from the people that came before or after him. He had been trained endlessly to follow their steps, but also to not step out of line.

The impression he was responsible for making within the hero community went almost without saying: he was the new Robin. Not the Robin. Not that one. Not...

Throughout the entire room there was only one break from the Spartan bareness that Tim had taken up, and that was a ridiculous, oversized clock that hung across the room from his bed that was a gaudy Gotham souvenir in the shape of the projecting Bat Signal in the Gotham night. 

It was black and yellow, but the most annoying part about it was the thick outline toward the edges -- a bright white strip that, at night, had the audacity to glow in the dark. 

It was hideous and annoying. 

Tim had never once touched it to so much as take it down let alone set it. After all, it had been a long standing challenge between him and Kon. 

Kon had gotten it as a gag. Kon had hung it in Tim’s room without permission. Kon had refused to take it down despite Tim demanding he do so. 

When Tim looked at that gaudy, awful clock, he thought of his best friend. He thought of the one person who had trusted him -- and only him -- like no one else in the world. He thought about the only person who knew his identity in the Tower, who knew he had Enya CDs in his collection, that he would defend Stephanie’s right to be Robin even against his former teammates. 

He looked at that clock and it was suddenly all horrifically apparent to Tim that in the grand scheme of things, he truly had lost. 

And it didn’t matter what the world threw his way from that moment forward, he was not going to feel more terrible than he did in that exact moment. 

Tim set on the edge of his bed, staring at the awful clock on the opposite wall when he heard the hesitant knock on the door of his room. He turned just enough to see that it was Bart, looking particularly out of place not bursting in and taking charge of the room as per his usual manners. 

“Hey, uh...” Bart stumbled on his own words, bringing a hand to his mouth and chewing on a finger nervously before trying again. “We... I think almost everyone who’s coming is... come. So... They’re outside right now.”

Looking at Bart, Tim attempted to muster some sense of feeling, some words of comfort. After all, he was fairly sure that Bart had never lost someone on this magnitude before. Not since Max Mercury and...

Still, Tim couldn’t stop the dumfounded staring at Bart. 

“I was sent to get you and Cassie,” Bart spat out at last. “So we can... Start. And things.”

Tim looked back down to his lap and folded his hands together. The rub of the leather against itself gave a satisfying crackling. It felt like that should’ve been more than answer enough for Bart or anyone else. 

But Bart was still waiting expectantly at the door. 

“Tim... I don’t know what to do,” he finally said. “It’s not fair that we’re asking you... asking you to...” He squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head. Tim could already see the tracks of tears working their way down his cheeks. “I can’t ask it of Cassie -- no one could be that cruel to her. But, Tim... Tim. I... I know you’ve been to too many funerals lately. That I should be the one of us to go up and-and... but I can’t. I can’t stop crying every time I think about it. I’d run away, right off the stage.”

“No, Bart, you can’t do it,” Tim said lowly. “We’d never ask you to... This is hard for anyone. And you don’t want to. And we’d never tell you to do something you can’t do.”

“But you’ve--”

“I don’t have any tears left, Bart,” Tim said simply, drawing the speedster’s gaze entirely. Tim let out a dry laugh. “I don’t. I can’t... I have to do this because Kon deserves it. Just like Stephanie and my dad deserved it. But I didn’t have tears left for them either. The kids who died in my school deserved it. Orpheus deserved it. Not to mention all the heroes who died in the Crisis. Everyone deserves it, but I’ve only been asked to speak for one and... I have to make it count for all of them... because I don’t cry for them anymore. I have to make this one moment count.”

Once the word vomit was clear from his system, Tim looked back toward Bart, maybe looking for some reassurance or perhaps just acknowledgement that such feelings weren’t the epitome of selfishness in the face of the people who had truly lost everything. 

What he received instead was a stare of mounting horror from his childhood friend.

“Dude,” Bart whispered, breathless and lost in a way he never was from running. “Robin... you need... I’m so sorry.”

Genuinely surprised by the statement, Tim turned more toward the Kid Flash. “What do you mean? What are you sorry about?”

For once, Bart’s mouth didn’t seem to be working in his favor. After a few aborted instances of trying to get words out, he then turned and took off like a speeding bullet, as if to get as far away from Tim as possible.

Which... was fair. Tim wasn’t sure if he was the most consoling force in the world. At least not anymore. 

It wasn’t fair for him to not be supportive, to not be there for his closest friends at the time where they needed him most. But Tim couldn’t force himself to be better yet. 

Tim sat on the edge of his bed for a little longer, waiting for it to be time for him to out and lead everyone else in the one thing he couldn’t yet afford for himself: healing.

By the time Tim made his way down to the ground floor, the sun was setting and it was clear to see that Bart had not been exaggerating about everyone being there -- Titans then and past. 

He still found himself hesitant to step forward, because the statue before them was daunting, casting the kind of shadow in the golden sunset that nearly seemed as long as the one that Kon himself cast over them at that moment. 

Tim knew every Titan was there, but it still caught him off guard when Dick approached him, arm still in a cast, limp still obvious. He wasn’t in his Nightwing suit, though he wore the mask over his eyes. 

He had to have had Roy or someone else sneak him out of the Manor after all he had been through. There was no way Bruce or Alfred had let Dick out of their sights long enough for him to pull such a stunt alone. 

Dick approached Tim without any of the reluctance or hesitation that seemed to keep paralyzing Tim with every step. And despite his mask, it was clear that he was in the throes of concern for Tim. 

The intensity of it made him uncomfortable. 

“Tim,” Dick said softly. “Kory told me you had wanted to eulogize and... This year... This year has been too much on you. I was the one who asked Conner to help me during the Crisis, and as a Founding Titan... well I think it would be proper for me to do this.”

A flare of emotion that had been escaping Tim nearly all day came up in his chest and he narrowed his eyes. “I’m not a fragile doll, Dick,” he said lowly. 

“We know that, Tim,” Dick said. 

And it was that we that was suddenly very telling.

Perhaps Bruce did know about Dick escaping the Manor after all.

“If I don’t do this today, I’m never going to forgive myself, Dick. And that’s the truth. And if I don’t do it because of you, then I’m probably not going to forgive you for it either,” Tim announced with what he hoped was just the right amount of gravitas. 

For all the gravity, though, Dick seemed more saddened than anything. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Dick said. “Just know... I’m here for you.”

“Yeah...” Tim said, heading toward the other Titans. “Seems like everyone is.”

If Dick had more of a reaction to that statement, Tim didn’t turn back to see it. He was a man on a mission by that point. 

Fortunately no one else tried to stop him as he got in front of everyone and cleared his throat. 

"I... What I need to do is say something,” Tim said, already flummoxing. But as the eyes of all the Titans turned toward him, he built his resolve and continued. “About Superboy... about Kon. Because...” There were phrases like he deserved it and he would’ve wanted on the tip of Tim’s tongue. But none of them were true. Not entirely. 

But everyone was still looking to him, so Tim dug deeper, found words that felt hardened into his bones, felt larger than Kon, larger than his feelings toward everyone else lost as well. 

“He’s... gone now,” Tim said, brows furrowing as if the gravity of that fact was still new and surprising to him. “He was my best friend. Sometimes my big brother. Sometimes my little brother.” He paused, caught his breath, made an effort to not meet any eyes but also to not look away. There was a blur of a crowd before him and he couldn’t see anyone. Which was good. Because he could feel the tears welling up despite the fact that he didn’t think there were more of them in him. “We did some stupid things together... We talked about girls. We talked about cars. And... when my dad died... when Spoiler died... even when I really didn’t want to... we talked about that, too.”

Tilting his chin up, Tim caught his breath again. It was so damn hard to say, but he couldn’t stop himself anymore. 

His audience, despite Tim, was seemingly captivated. Caught in awe.

“I don’t know who to talk to now about that stuff. I guess there’s always Batman and Superman... I mean, in times of Crisis that’s what you’re supposed to do, right?” Tim went on. “Look to your heroes...” 

H reached up and roughly rubbed away the tears that escaped his mask, took another sharp breath. He could finally see who was around him at that point. The original Titans, or what stood of them by that point. The new Teen Titans and Titans alike. The Titans before his own, and then... him, Cassie, Bart... The members of Young Justice wearing clothes they’d long abandoned so as to pay respects. 

Uniforms of every color. 

“When we lose one of our own, we never know quite what to do,” Tim continued. “Because... we are the heroes. It doesn’t matter if we’re still seen as kids, if we’re still seen as young and maybe a little impatient. Because we’re the Titans. And in this time of Crisis, the world looked to all of us. We answered.” He looked up to Kon’s likeness in the statue, a crushing weight continuing to settle in his chest. “Kon answered. Because Superboy was a hero. And the whole world got to see that he deserved to be called it.”

Cassie burst into tears, tucked between Koriand’r and Bart, Tim knew she would be held up, even if he didn’t know if she’d be okay. So he finished up.

“They say that people live on… That you don’t forget them if you talk about them,” Tim said softly. “So let’s never stop reminding people what Superboy did for them.”

By the time Tim was stepping down from the front of the crowd, he felt it. The emotions that had been chiseled into his bones, gnawing from the inside out through the aches and pains of tiredness. He felt what had been missing since the night he found his father dead and his classmates murdered and his girlfriend tortured.

Tim felt the tears come and he kept them back long enough to walk away from the crowd, numb to the words Cyborg was currently giving, numb to everything but the tears that were managing to get past his mask and no doubt loosen the adhesive.

The only thing he could feel once his vision blurred was how strong Dick’s grip was when he caught Tim’s shoulders with his one good arm and pulled him back against his chest.

Nose bending against Dick’s chest, Tim didn’t care as he leaned in further until his forehead and chin were pressed into the fabric of Dick’s shirt and his head tucked under his mentor, friend, and brother’s chin. He didn’t care who saw, though he doubted anyone was paying attention as the ceremony continued on.

“Let’s get you home,” Dick whispered, rubbing circles into Tim’s back, still pressing him close. “I’m so sorry, Tim.”

Nodding along, Tim had little to say back. Just questions.

Questions like why was Dick sorry when there were those more responsible? And what was home anymore when he was fatherless and motherless and friendless and there was no Blüdhaven and—

He meant the Cave. The Cave was his home.

And there was something, even if Tim could only think of it peripherally, inherently wrong with that sentiment.

When they reached Gotham’s harbor it was well past sunrise. And, for reasons Tim refused to reflect on, he felt some tremendous relief at the realization. Not because it meant that he could finally stop flying the Batwing or because he would be able to lock himself in the guest bedroom that had been his officially for a week and unofficially for years.

There was something heavier there. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on until they dipped into the cloudy Gotham waters and finally entered the tunnels that took them to the Batcave far, far into Bristol.

He finally was able to put a finger to the emotions he felt when they came in for a landing and, against all expectations, Bruce was actually still awake and in the cave working. Still there. Still being Bruce.

And when that realization crept into Tim’s mind, the horrible truth set in.

Tim’s best friend was dead. But the man who made Brother Eye was as good as the father that Tim had lost only a few months before.

After realizing his own emotions, a nauseousness overcame Tim and he leaned forward, setting his forehead against the steering wheel of the Batwing. His eyes were wide, though hidden behind the loosened domino mask.

He felt sick. He felt wrong. He felt so goddamn ungrateful.

“Come on, buddy,” Dick’s always soothing voice called before Tim could feel the strong grip of Dick’s hand on his shoulder, shaking him once again. Always there to be a guiding light — that was Dick Grayson in a nutshell. “I know you have to be tired, but I’m not about to let you sleep in the Batwing. Not when there’s a warm bed and Alfred’s tea waiting on you just upstairs.”

Which meant walking past Bruce. Which meant walking past the man who built the construct that would eventually lead to almost losing Dick, to actually losing Kon.

The man he had looked up to his entire life. The man who took Tm under his wing. The man he loved like a father when he didn’t know what a father’s love felt like. The man who believed in him the way almost no one in the world could.

The man who had not so much as turned from the Batcomputer since their landing. The man who had not gone to the Metropolis statue ceremony. The man who had kept Tim out of the loop until Jack Drake was making his last phone call. The man who kept Stephanie Brown’s death a secret until Tim’s usefulness as Robin was realized during the Gang War.

The Batman, and all the complicated feelings that Tim had never addressed because how could he?

“Tim, I’ll carry you if you don’t walk. Just watch me,” Dick teased.

Without further prompting, Tim got to his feet and looked up at Dick.

Dick had already taken his mask off and his own exhaustion was clear in his face. Some sweat had accumulated just below his hairline, and strands of his hair had gotten caught in it, highlighting the obvious fact that Dick could use a decent haircut. He was sweating and weary from pain but he somehow managed to exude sympathy even before he reached forward and pulled Tim into another one armed hug.

“I’m so sorry, Timmy,” Dick repeated.

But Dick wasn’t the one that Tim wanted to be sorry.

They walked out of the Batwing together and both stopped close to the computer dock where Bruce sat. When he still didn’t turn around, Tim scowled and headed toward the lockers so he could change into the pajamas he could always count on Alfred leaving there.

Almost predictably, Dick went to Bruce to force the matter. It was what the original Boy Wonder was best at, after all.

“I see a lot of missed calls stacking up on the third monitor,” Dick declared as Tim ripped off what remained of his mask adhesive and began to yank at his boots and gauntlets. “They all look familiar, but you can never tell with how smart collect calls are getting these days. You ever asked one if they’re a robot? They get all offended, but they can’t say they’re not robots. It’s weird.”

There was a pause of silence where Tim was certain that Bruce was not going to bother answering. So much so, that as he unclasped his cape, Tim was almost startled by hearing Bruce’s gruff voice answer.

“They’re from the Justice League. Various members. Mostly founders,” Bruce replied.

“Do they need more help for the relief efforts?” Dick asked.

Tim pulled up his pajama pants and tightened the strings.

“They don’t want things to be messy, so my resignation would be preferable,” Bruce answered. “Diana has already tenured hers, setting the example. No one was going to ask her for it. Not even me. But she did it, and now it is the seemly thing for members of the League who are in violation of the Charter to do.”

“Booster Gold doing commercial endorsements isn’t in violation of the Charter?” Dick asked dryly.

“Booster Gold did not almost destroy time and space or invaded privacy on an international scale,” Bruce responded. “Worst of all… Brother Eye never once helped me to prevent the unpreventable.”

“It was the wrong way to go, but they can’t have a Justice League without a Batman,” Dick urged. “If you don’t resign and it’s put to a vote, who on the current roster would stand with you?”

Tim closed his locker door quietly and looked back toward the dock, wondering if the list in his mind was close to Bruce’s.

“No one,” Bruce answered coldly.

He was wrong. Tim’s reserve status as established by the same clause that had allowed Dick as Robin and Jason after him to work on League cases would have made Tim eligible for voting privileges.

Tim would still defend him. Even in his angriest, his saddest, his loneliest.

Because Bruce was still Batman.

“No one would,” Bruce repeated.

Without saying goodnight or acknowledging either in the cave at all, Tim started on his way upstairs. He needed rest almost as much as he needed closure, and his near sycophant nature on the matter was making him nauseated all over again.

Neither Dick nor Bruce seemed to notice his departure.

It was still debatable if Bruce had realized he was there at all.

Heading upstairs, the exhaustion hit Tim like a Ferrari at one-sixty, and even the mental image of such a thing felt appealing compared to the truly rotten guilt that was eating away at him from the inside out.

He had no plans other than to reach his room and collapse into his bed.

But, of course, there was always something unexpected along the way.

The guest room Tim had made his own was merely one of several in the wing of Wayne Manor. Dick’s old room was a bit further down, close to the Master where Bruce of course slept. Tim had been offered Dick’s room before, but considering the trauma of Blüdhaven and everything with it that Dick had undergone, no one had to even ask Tim to move further down the hall. He did it the moment he saw Bruce and Alfred drag Dick home from the Gang War.

There was also Jason’s room. A room that had never been a topic for discussion in all the years Tim had had access to the Manor. And it remained even more so recently.

What Tim wasn’t used to, even if in the back of his mind he was always aware of it, was the guest room that was reserved for one person who never utilized it.

And he was certainly not expecting to see her sitting in the middle of the room’s floor with the door wide open.

“Cass?” Tim called out, stopping in the hall.

Cassandra was sitting in the floor with her back to him, though much like the brief time they had lived together in Blüdhaven, it wasn’t much more than a loose tank top and leggings. Her body was folded over, hugging her knees, chin resting until she heard Tim call out.

Of course he hadn’t surprised her or snuck up on her, but she apparently had been anticipating that Tim walk on by. Because when Cassandra turned to face Tim, tears were fully falling from her cheeks.

“Cassandra,” he muttered again, taking a subconscious step into the room. “How long have you… What’s going on—“

“Didn’t go,” she told him.

“Didn’t go?” Tim repeated in confusion.

“To see him,” Cass said lowly. “To say goodbye.”

Then he remembered — of course. Kon had been the first boy outside of Gotham that Cass truly got to know, the first other hero to get to know her. He was a friend to her, too.

And Tim hadn’t even thought of what Cass had lost recently.

“I know you’re not a Titan, but… If you had told me you wanted to go, Dick and I would’ve taken you,” Tim assured her, getting down to his knees to be more on Cassandra’s level. “I would’ve taken you. I know he was… he was your friend and mine and…”

Cassandra shook her head once, but meaningfully. It was more than enough to let Tim trail off without pressing further.

“I’m… not the same person,” Cass said almost quietly, tears still falling. “I’ve… I’ve volved, Tim.”

“Solved?” Tim asked, still confused, before hesitating as he saw her shoulder, his eyes adjusting to the room.

Cass had never been particularly shy about her body, to what was usually Tim’s dismay, but because of that he had seen her collection of scars. None stuck out more vividly in his head than the exit wound on her shoulder that he had seen up close and personal before. It was large — having grown with age since her father had shot her when she was still so young. And seeing it, remembering it, had always managed to bring Tim’s blood to a boil.

But, right then, at that moment, it wasn’t there.

None of them were.

“Your scars…” Tim said out loud, astonished before looking to Cassandra’s face, searching for an answer. “They’re gone.”

Her tears kept falling but her expression didn’t change. “I’m not the same,” Cass said. “Lazarus… I’m not the same. Please. Please, Tim. Don’t… Don’t tell Batman.”

Tim stared at her, processing everything. His brain was still a foggy mess of emotions and repressions and all the more. But for that moment, clarity hit him.

He was good at being able to shove his feelings aside to put someone else’s first. Most of the time. This time.

With a little hesitation, Tim grabbed Cass’ shoulders with the same strength that Dick had done with him for most of the day. It was enough to put her full attention on him. “I won’t. I’m here for you,” he assured her.

Dick probably would have ended it with a hug, but Tim wasn’t there yet. He couldn’t give out those with the same meaning. But Cass seemed to be in tune, as she reached up and put her hands over his to squeeze them back. And they both let the tears come.

By the time he woke up in the morning, Tim wasn’t sure who was responsible for putting the blankets over him and Cass as they had passed out on the floor of her room.

[achaionrp-blog]

Presenting HUNTER KING! Returning to Achaion for his SECOND SEASON, he holds the mantle of ORPHEUS, THE POET. Some of the fans say he looks a lot like REECE KING. Welcome to Achaion: The Best of our Heroes. Let’s take a closer look at this hero’s performance.

Tactics: hunter relies on his physical strength mostly throughout the show and uses his gut feeling. he’s also very manipulative, willing to get people to trust him so that they can work for him, putting himself in a group or a team because he believes it’s easier to get to the top like that. his manipulation can go as far as him easily throwing them aside the next moment, as long as he gets what he wants and the viewers and sponsors trust.

Harmatia: hunter’s fear of turning into his father has him unwilling to ever hurt someone more than he should. he also lacks when it comes to games that rely solely on logic as hunter’s never been quite academically inclined.

he is not his father’s son. hunter king is far from that –– he is not a liar, he is not a monster. he is not his father’s son and yet, they still call him as such. as much as he tells himself he’s not his father’s son, the both of them share too much of a resemblance; from the way their eyes are shaped to the tone of their voice.

hunter doesn’t remember his father. no, a lie. he doesn’t remember ever having a man he could calla father. instead, he remembers the dark nights alone at home with his mother, where the tv would act as his father, his companion. the sound of a drunken man laughing at three in the morning, of glass shattering if he’d come home in a bad mood. his memories are vivid; he recalls the strange men in his house, the powder, the pills that he couldn’t quite grasp at his young age.

growing up, his father had acquired quite a nickname for himself. an embarrassment, hunter would think. yet his mother refused to leave the man –– claiming that she still loved him. that it wasn’t too late for him to be saved. ( fool, hunter thought, fool ). how could she save a man that was gone too deep? a man that refused to live the life of a father.

he never speaks of his father, and if people asked, he says he never had one.

despite the disarray in his family, hunter finds comfort in music. he discovers, when he’s fourteen, that he has quite the affinity for it. it starts small, he opens a soundcloud, and then a youtube. his hardwork doesn’t go unnoticed; a talent agency approaches hunter when he’s sixteen about signing with them.

“your music,” they’d told him, “it reaches people.”

he’s seated in his living room with his mother and a man from the talent agency. they’re going through a few terms and legal issues in the contract –– after all, hunter’s only sixteen, still a minor. for the first time in his life, hunter wonders if this is how it feels like to have something work out. to have something right.

“so you just have to sign he ––”

there’s the loud sound of someone yelling from outside. and the sound doesn’t go away, it only gets louder and louder until it’s so deafening that hunter stands up. what he sees is his father, the older man shouting, screaming something before he slams the front door shut.

“what’s happening?”

and then he understands. the police barge into the door and they show his father no mercy. they push the man onto the floor and handcuff him. something falls out of his father’s pocket and at this age, hunter is no stranger to what it could be.

“hunter, hunter,” the old man says, “tell them. tell them that i did nothing wrong. you know right, son? you know that i’m innocent right? they won’t listen to me.”

hunter remains quiet as he watches everything unfold. his father is a dealer. ( at the back of hunter’s mind he’s always known. from the odd men in their house, the late nights his father would come home, the odd spikes in their financial stability ).

the man from the talent agency leaves. “we’ll get back to you.”

they tell him that they’ve changed their minds. citing that they can’t sign a boy with a past like him. ‘your music is special. we hope that you don’t give up.’

his mother is six months pregnant when his father is put behind bars. her delivery comes faster than anyone could have expected –– at sixteen, hunter had lost his father but he’d gained a younger sister.

the love he feels for the little girl is large; his little sister, his world. he takes care of her with so much affection, let’s her sing to his music, play with his keyboard. hunter gains something he wants to protect, something other than his music.

but the world isn’t fair. it never is for hunter. he’s at home, reading a book to his younger sister when it happens –– so quickly, too quickly. there’s so much movement, and then too little. he rushes her to the emergency room, his hands shaking as he does so.

they tell him that she’s sick, say things that hunter doesn’t quite hear. all he knows is that she’ll need treatment and that it won’t be cheap. that she’ll need treatment to live and hunter doesn’t want to lose someone else, she doesn’t want to lose the only person he’d ever held so dear to himself.

his mother isn’t working a good job, his father is in jail and hunter’s never been an amazing student. for the first time in his life, hunter prays as he falls onto his knees. his hands clutch his younger sister’s and his body shakes in grief.

he’s nineteen and unemployed, nineteen and in need of money fast.

it’s then when he takes his music to the streets. he sings for bars, does small gigs, and it’s okay, it’s alright –– he makes money. but it’s not enough, music isn’t enough to save her.

why? hunter thinks, why isn’t it enough?

hunter visits his sister as much as he can, sits by her bed and holds her hand every night. he tells her everything will be fine, that she’ll be out playing with the other kids in no time. (what hurts the most is that she believes him and hunter can never tell if he’s lying). a doctor approaches him one night when his sister is fast asleep. “i… i may know of something,” he tells hunter. “have you heard of achaion?”

it’s false to say that his heart doesn’t waver. of course he’s heard of achaion –– who hasn’t? he’s heard of the winners, the prize money but he’s also heard of the cruelty, of how dangerous it can be. yet the doctor’s words ring in his mind.

he wants to save his little sister –– he wants to save the only thing he loves.

hunter signs up, and makes it. there’s contracts to sign and hunter does it, without question.

“where are you going?” his sister asks. “somewhere.”

during his first season in the show, hunter turns out to be one of a fan favourite. maybe it’s his back-story, ‘the boy that would do anything to save the sister that he loved’. maybe it’s how he refuses to give in, how he speaks of his family with such fondness in his voice. he refuses to answer too many questions about his father, the thought of the older man enough to make the boy’s blood boil.

hunter’s one of the younger contestants, a fresh face on the show. he knows little about the working of everything; learns that everything is shadier than it seems. his first encounter with the needle in his skin, the drug to enhance him, has him crying – he feels like his father.

“how’s your sister doing?” they’d ask in the interviews. “i wish i knew. i wish i could be there with her right now,” he’d always answer. ( the locked walls are limiting. he feels imprisoned; wonders momentarily if this is how it’s like to live like his father ).

he doesn’t win the first time he’s on the show; instead he ranks fifth. it’s not enough, it’s not enough to save her. he tries again, comes back for a second season and his popularity is skyrocketing. he’ll try and try, he’ll do anything, to save his sister.

[ishipbertigwain-blog]

The Book of Duchess- Geoffrey Chaucer

Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Book of Duchess is one of Chaucer’s earliest works, and it is a long poem that primarily focuses on loss, specifically the loss of a loved one. The speaker, Chaucer, has trouble falling asleep because he is too distracted by the loss of his own love  so he reads the Greek myth of Ceyx and Alcyone. Ceyx had lost his life at sea, while Alcyone mourned for him on shore. Alcyone prays to the god Juno so that she may see her lost love but one more time. This wish was granted, and Ceyx tells Alcyone not to grieve for him anymore, and to bury him.

Chaucer then has a dream where he finds a young knight, dressed all in black, in the middle of a clearing singing a sad song of sorrow. Chaucer asks why the black knight is so gloomy, and the black knight tells Chaucer his story in a veiled way: the black knight says he lost his queen during a game chess against Fortune, but in reality he has actually lost the woman that he loved.

One of the more interesting aspects of this poem is how the black knight is depicted. The black knight quite literally plays the role of a widow; he is dressed in all black, and mourns seemingly all the time. The way that Chaucer has the knight divulge his story can be seen as therapeutic for Chaucer (to help deal with his own grief), and it also plays with our idea of how a knight should act. Knight’s are supposed to be stoic and strong, not overrun with emotions. The black knight’s lady also doesn’t immediately reciprocate his love, another aspect that antagonizes our expectations for a medieval romance, as women were mainly portrayed as not having much say in the matter at all.

           (Lines 515 -709)

He was aware of me, where I stood

Before him, and did doff my hood,

And greeted him, the best I could,

Debonairly, and nothing rude.

He said,’ I pray you, be not wrath,

I heard you not, to tell the truth,

Nor did I see you, sir, most truly.’

‘Ah, good sir, naught ill,’ quoth I,

‘I am right sorry if I by aught

Have stirred you out of your thought;

Forgive me if I did mistake.’

‘Why, your amends are easy to make,’

Quoth he, ‘for there is naught to do;

Nothing ill said or done by you.’

Lo, how goodly spoke the man,

As if he was another person;

Neither proud nor too polite

I saw, and warmed to the knight

And found him so agreeable,

Wondrous reasonable and rational,

It seemed to me, for all his ills.

I straight began to speak at will

To him, to see if I in aught

Might have knowledge of his thought.

‘Sir,’ quoth I, ‘the sport is done;

I think that the hart is gone;

The huntsmen nowhere can it see.’

‘I take no thought of that,’ quoth he;

My mind thereon it does not dwell.’

‘By our Lord,’ quoth I, ‘I know that well,

So from your face it does appear,

But, sir, one word will you hear?

Methinks in great sorrow I you see;

But truly, good sir, if you to me

Would show something of your woe,

I would, if the wise God help me so,

Amend it, if I can or may;

You may prove it by assay.

For, by my troth, to make you whole,

I will do all my powers may hold.

Tell me of all your sorrow’s smart;

Peradventure it may ease your heart,

That seems full sick beneath your side.’

With that he looked on me aside,

As if to say, ‘Nay, that will not be.’

‘Grant mercy, good friend,’ quoth he

‘I thank you that you’d do so,

But it will no swifter make it go;

No man my sorrow gladden may,

That makes my hue to fall and fade,

And has my understanding shorn,

That woe is me that I was born!

Naught can keep my sorrows hid,

Not all the remedies of Ovid,

Nor Orpheus, god of melody,

Nor Daedalus, his artistry;

No help for me from the physician,

Neither Hippocrates nor Galen;

Woe is me that I live hours twelve.

But whoso would prove to himself

Whether his heart can take pity

On any sorrow, let him view me.

I, wretch, that death has flayed

Of all the bliss that ever was made,

Am become the worst of all sights,

Who hate my days and my nights;

My life, my joys to me are loathsome,

For all welfare and I apart run.

Death itself is so much my foe

That my death it wills not so;

For when I follow it, it will flee;

I would have death, it wants not me.

This is my pain, all remedy fled,

Always dying, yet never dead,

Such that Tityus, there in hell,

May not of more sorrow tell.

And whoever knew all, by my truth,

Of my sorrow, and had not ruth

And pity on my sorrow’s smart,

He would have a fiend’s heart.

For whoso sees me on a morrow

May say that he has met with sorrow;

For I am sorrow and sorrow is I.

Alas, and I will tell you why:

My song is turned to complaining,

And all my laughter to weeping,

My glad thoughts to heaviness,

To travail turned my idleness

And my rest too; my weal is woe,

My good is harm, and evermore so

Into wrath is turned my playing,

And my delight into sorrowing.

My health is turned into sickness,

To dread all my contentedness.

To dark is turned all my light,

My wit is folly, my day is night,

My love is hate, my sleep waking,

My mirth and my meals are fasting,

My good countenance is folly,

And all’s confounded where I be,

My peace is argument and war,

Alas, how might I fare ill more?

My boldness is turned to shame,

For false Fortune (1) has played a game

Of chess with me, alas, the while!

The traitress false and full of guile,

Who promises yet delivers naught;

She walks upright and yet she halts,

Who squints all foul and gazes fair,

The disdainful and debonair

Who scorns full many a creature!

An idol of false portraiture

Is she, for she will soon awry,

She is the monster’s head say I,

As filth over-strewn with flowers.

Her highest honour and her flower is

To lie, for that is her nature,

Without faith, law, or measure.

She is false and ever laughing

With one eye, and the other weeping.

All that is raised, she brings down.

I liken her to the scorpion,

That is a false, flattering beast,

For with his head he seems to feast,

But all amidst his flattering

With his tail he will sting

And envenom, and so will she.

She is the envious charity

That’s ever false yet seems to heal;

So she turns her false wheel

About, for it is never stable –

Now by the fire, now at table;

For many a one blind she has sent.

She is the play of enchantment,

That seems a thing, and is not so,

The false thief! What did she though,

Dost think? By our Lord, I will say.

At chess with me she began to play;

With her false moves diversely seen

She stole upon me and took my queen.

And when I saw my queen away,

Alas, I could no longer play,

But said, ‘Farewell, sweet, by this,

And farewell all that ever there is!’

Therewith Fortune said, ‘Check, here!’

And ‘Mate!’ to me in mid-career

With an errant pawn, alas!

Full craftier at play she was

Than Athalus, that first the game

Of chess made; such was his name.

I wish to God that once or twice

I’d studied, learnt the pitfalls thrice

Known to the Greek Pythagoras,

I’d have played the better at chess

Guarded my queen better thereby.

Yet, in truth, I say, what for and why?

I hold that wish not worth a straw.

It would never have aided me more,

For Fortune knows many a wile,

There are but few can her beguile,

And then she is the less to blame;

I myself would have done the same,

Before God, had I been as she;

She should be pardoned more easily,

For this I say, adding thereto:

Had I been God and able to do

My will, when she the victor proved,

I would have made the same move,

For, as I hope God will give me rest,

I dare well swear she chose the best.

But through that move I am shorn

Of bliss; alas, that I was born!

For evermore think I truly,

Despite my wish, my joy is wholly

Overturned, but what’s to be done?

By our Lord, to die and soon be gone.

For nothing I believe in, naught,

But to live and die with that thought.

For there’s no planet in the firmament,

Nor in air or in earth no element,

That does not give me a gift each one

Of weeping when I am alone.

For when I consider well,

And bethink me of what befell,

How that there lies in reckoning

To my sorrows’ credit nothing,

And how there is left no gladness

To lift me out of my distress,

How I’ve lost contentment’s measure,

How, again, I have no pleasure,

Then I may say that I have naught.

And when this passes through my thought,

Alas, then I am overcome,

For what is done is not to come.

I have more sorrow than Tantalus (2).’

1.  Fortuna - the Roman goddess of fortune; “lady luck.”

2. Tantalus - a Greek mythological figure; was punished by the Gods and was left to suffer, unable to quench his thirst or feed his hunger. 

[badlydrawnstuff]

d-ho insults everyone the rp

-

Sheepy: Tadano: Oh, good to see you came. Sheepy: Dio: I'd like to inform you that you're not the boss of me anymore. Sheepy: Dio: I work as a bartender now amd that's ten times more important than whatever battle you want Tadpole and by extension me to fight in. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: That's a damn shame! I was handing out paychecks! Arsé-kun: D-Ho: *he throws the envelope at Dio like a ninja star* Heere's yours, you unwitting sack of grapes! Sheepy: Tadano: You can't quit. Sheepy: Dio: You two really want me that badly? Arsé-kun: D-Ho: You haven't heard yet??? Sheepy: Tadano: You haven't paid me back the $50 you owe me. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Not that! Sheepy: Dio: What? Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Open it, open it! *he sounds.. excited? that's weird.* Sheepy: Dio: *he opens it, looking concerned * Sheepy: Dio: Is it a notice that I'm going to die of an incurable, fatal illness in three days? Arsé-kun: *it's a paycheck!!! and a note* Sheepy: Dio: It's my grave money to pay Charon with. *he takes the note out to read it* Arsé-kun: *it's about being re-hired for Deep! Holy shit!* Sheepy: Dio: I'll make Deedee take my place while I'm gone. Sheepy: Dio: I'll be able to come up with new alcoholic drink ideas in Schwartzwelt! Arsé-kun: D-Ho: That's the spirit! Sheepy: Tadano: Schwartzwelt was a traumatic experience that'll never leave me for the rest of my days and gave me heart problems. Great! I can't wait! *he doesn't sound sarcastic....* Arsé-kun: D-Ho: ... Welcome to the club. Sign up now, and get free PTSD along with your order. Sheepy: Dio: What's so concerning about it? Sheepy: Dio: What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Sheepy: Tadano: And if it kills me? Sheepy: Dio: It stinks to be you. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Samerecarm! Sheepy: Tadano: Samerecarm doesn't work on humans... does it? Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Does too! It just has a time constraint. Sheepy: Tadano: *he looks doubtful* Arsé-kun: *and now it's awkward* Sheepy: Tadano: Hmm... running into walls was fun. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: You clumsy bastard, are you gonna drop into more pitfalls for your fetish, ho? Sheepy: Tadano: Fetish?! Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Why else would you swan dive into those pitfalls, you crazhee fuck? Sheepy: Tadano: Because they're shortcuts! Arsé-kun: D-Ho: And I'm the ruler of fucking Jupiter! Sheepy: Dio: I watched him crab walk for a good twenty minutes, right in front of me. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: i suspect he's got more brain problems than heart problems! Sheepy: Dio: Like... every few seconds he'd pass by the entrance of where I was hanging out. I didn't have a contract with him yet. Eventually he came over and talked to me. Sheepy: Tadano: I was attracting demons so I could get stronger! Sheepy: Tadano: It's also much simpler to navigate places without changing direction... crab walking and walking backwards are very simple compared to having to face where I'm looking every time I walk. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: God forbid whee teach him to dodge roll. Sheepy: Tadano: The demonica has an automapper function so I can see where I'm going. Sheepy: Tadano: Besides... I get achievements for running into things! Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Whoever installed that is fucking fired Sheepy: Tadano: I can't resist completing them all! Sheepy: Tadano: I only had a few missing when we left.... I'll never know what they were! Sheepy: Dio: Were you jumping into pitfalls and slamming into walls for achievements??? Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Weirdo. Sheepy: Tadano: It's not weird! Arsé-kun: D-Ho: No, that's pretty weird, ho! Sheepy: Tadano: It gave me drive! It made it fun. Before, I was terrified of death and wondering if we could stop Schwartzwelt... Sheepy: Tadano: After they introduced the achievement system, it kind of felt like a game! Except I was stuck in the game... Sheepy: Tadano: When you're told that the higher-ups are going to drop a nuclear warhead on you, it makes you kose motivation... Sheepy: Tadano: L-look, I'm human, okay? I have flaws! Being one for achievement systems is one of my flaws! It makes me feel good about myself! Arsé-kun: D-Ho: *he's started writing on his gauntlet. he's up to something over there, on his lil stool* Sheepy: Tadano: What're you doing? Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Noneya. Sheepy: Tadano: Is that a new video game? I haven't heard of it. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Noneya business. Sheepy: Tadano: It had a sequel?! Sheepy: Tadano: It must be really popular! Arsé-kun: D-Ho: It's gone, Private. The jokes gone. Sheepy: Tadano: Joke? Arsé-kun: D-Ho: it flew right past ya. Sheepy: Tadano: It sure did. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Woosh. Gone. Sheepy: Dio: Like my childhood. Sheepy: Dio: Gosh, I'm old. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: ... Sheepy: Dio: You're probably really old too. Sheepy: Dio: But... never forget: I'm older. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Jesus Christ, you make me look like a goddamn baby. Sheepy: Dio: I sure do. Sheepy: Dio: Although, I didn't have to work too hard. Sheepy: Dio: You already look like one. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Eat shit! Sheepy: Dio: That's unsanitary. Sheepy: Dio: My diet mostly consists of grapes and wine. Sheepy: Dio: And vegetables. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Local senior citizen survives off of fucking raisins, more when I care! Sheepy: Dio: They aren't raisins! Arsé-kun: D-Ho: I bet you like raisin cookies, too! Sheepy: Dio: Why would you do that to a perfectly good grape?! Sheepy: Dio: No, raisins are disgusting! Sheepy: Dio: You know how many bugs get in those? Arsé-kun: D-Ho: More than how many are in your hair. Sheepy: Dio: So at least one because there's no bugs in my hair. Sheepy: Tadano: Where are the others, anyway? We were gonna start D&D. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Shouldn't you know? Sheepy: Tadano: Am I a stalker? Sheepy: Tadano: One of the people coming is your justice-loving friend. That's your business. Sheepy: Tadano: And as for Dio, another person coming is his boyfriend. That's his business. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Huh? *he looks up at Tadano* When'd you talk to him? Sheepy: Tadano: Dio did. Arsé-kun: *D-ho looks at Dio* Sheepy: Dio: I asked how it went with Dr. Victor. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Ah. Sheepy: Dio: He said he was feeling lonely. Sheepy: Dio: So I invited him. Sheepy: Dio: So I ask you: How did Dr. Victor's treatment go? Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Thanks a lot. Hee needs the socializing.- Better than I'd expected, hee-ho! Sheepy: Dio: Good, good. Sheepy: Dent: Heyy, it's game time! Arsé-kun: D-Ho: There you are, Private Dent! Sheepy: Dent: I was getting prepared! Sheepy: Irving: Howdy! I'm late because I was dealin' with a problem. Y'all wouldn't believe how easily an AI c'n fly off the handle! Sheepy: Irving: One incorrect calculation in the code 'n that's all she wrote! Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Private Irving! On time for once! Sheepy: Irving: I tried very hard. Arthur was complainin' and buggin' out as he occasionally does and he started throwin a hissy fit. I chased him and he ran into a wall. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Fucking bye, Arthur. Sheepy: Anthony: Boss, I... Sheepy: Anthony:........ Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Shut up and sit down before I cut your dick off. Sheepy: Anthony: But I need that! Arsé-kun: D-Ho: You'd better learn to piss sitting down, Private! Sheepy: Anthony: *he sits down, visibly intimidated. Arthur is following closely behind, making a series of (voiced) beeping sounds* Arsé-kun: *Following behind Arthur is Orpheus, and then Minato with a bag full of snacks. he's eating out of the bag. really classy.* Sheepy: Arthur: I have delivered a new robot model. Sheepy: Arthur: It will assist us in our trek in Schwartzwelt. Arsé-kun: Orpheus: I'm not going to even bother correcting that. *he goes and drops into the seat next to Dio* hey. Sheepy: Dio: Heeeeyy! What's up? Arsé-kun: Orpheus: Not much. Congrats on the job, or whatever. Sheepy: Dio: I feel sad because I'll be away from you. It just occurred to me. Arsé-kun: Orpheus: Not really. The ... black holes' only so far away from his place. *he roughly gestures to Minato, who is still eating out of the bag. classy.* Sheepy: Dio: I guess you're right. Arsé-kun: *D-Ho's just watching. alone. on his stool, mostly surrounded by no one else. except not really* Sheepy: Arthur: *he approaches D-Ho... and then bumps into his stool like a roomba* Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Drive better than a new recruit, Arthur. Sheepy: Arthur: I've learned this from Tadano. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Good fucking job. Sheepy: Arthur: Commander Gore, Commander Gore? Come in, Commander Gore. *whhhrrrrr, click* Arsé-kun: *and then it's really awkward for a minute* Arsé-kun: D-Ho: You did the thing again, you idiot. Sheepy: Arthur: I did it again, Hitonari. Sheepy: Arthur: I fell for a demon girl. Sheepy: Arthur: ...Wh-what?! Stop giving me such a judgemental look! Arsé-kun: D-Ho: *he puts his head down on the table and hits it with his fist. he's trying not to laugh* Sheepy: Anthony: Stop d-doing that....! Sheepy: Arthur: *in an Anthony voice* I'm pathetic, aren't I? The one woman who was interested in me scared me so I ran and hurt her feelings... Sheepy: Arthur: Can you.... go and apologize to her for me? Wh..what, what's her name? I don't know...! She looked like a tree. Arsé-kun: *Orpheus is judging.* Sheepy: Anthony:...Wh-what?! Arsé-kun: Orpheus: I apologize for being rude, but I am going to speak on the behalf of myself and my summoner-- What the hell? Sheepy: Anthony: Demon women are much more attractive than human ones! Sheepy: Anthony: I mean, human ones are alright... Arsé-kun: Orpheus: I retract my statement. Sheepy: Dio: What a weirdo. Just don't bring that up around Polly. Arsé-kun: Orpheus: I'm dating you, and I was human at a point. I think it is justified. Sheepy: Anthony: The only one who was nice to me was Daphne, but I couldn't get past the fact that she was a tree. Sheepy: Dio: Heyhey, I'm no demon Arsé-kun: Orpheus: Daemon, then. Sheepy: Dio: I'm devilishly handsome, but a demon? Sheepy: Dio: I was raised a human anyway. Arsé-kun: Orpheus: *he makes a coughing noise. his face stays the same.* Sheepy: Dio: And I was part human until I was reborn.... Arsé-kun: Minato: Orpheus is having bad thoughts, stop talking. Sheepy: Dio: What? Arsé-kun: Minato: *he whispers something to Dio* Sheepy: Dio: *snrrrrk* Arsé-kun: Orpheus: I'm not wrong. Sheepy: Dio: I guess you aren't. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: I'm going to vomit. Sheepy: Dio: Why? Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Stop saying words, you hopeless romantics, I want to stab myself so I don't have to hear it. Sheepy: Dio: Hopeless? Arsé-kun: *SPEAKING OF HOPELESS* Arsé-kun: Ace: Hello!! Sheepy: Arthur: Goodbye. Arsé-kun: Ace: D: ? Sheepy: Arthur: Service hours have ended Sheepy: Arthur: I will call the police if you keep calling. Arsé-kun: Ace: *he drags himself in. He's limping a bit, but he's up and moving!! And that's what counts!!* Sheepy: Arthur: But we're offering you discount solar panels. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: What the fuck is wrong with you Sheepy: Tadano: I've taught him how to answer the phone. Sheepy: Tadano: He answers trash calls. Sheepy: Tadano: You should try it. It works! Arsé-kun: D-Ho: I thought you said worms for a minute. ... Sheepy: Tadano: Worms??? Arsé-kun: Ace: Worms?? Sheepy: Tadano: Are you... worm down, Sir? Sheepy: Tadano: Do you need to sleep? Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Don't ever speak to me again, you spineless pot brownie. Sheepy: Tadano: Hey, I'm spineless because you made me that way with your drill instructor ways. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Bull fucking shit. Sheepy: Tadano: Such unwanted imagery... Arsé-kun: *Meanwhile, Ace tries to get on the stool between D-Ho and Dio. He starts climbing up.. and it falls on him. bye, ace* Sheepy: Arthur: Rest in pieces. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: .... *he's not sure if he wants to be concerned, or if he wants to complain* Sheepy: Dio: *he takes the stool off of Ace and puts it where it originally was* You want help? Arsé-kun: Ace: Yes! Sheepy: Dio: *he picks up Ace and puts him on the stool* Sheepy: Irving: *he is observing Arthur from the doorway. finally, he scoops up Arthur and fixes a loose screw* Sheepy: Arthur: *wilhelm scream* Sheepy: Irving: So that's what yer problem was! Sheepy: Irving: *he plops down in the seat next to Anthony and puts Arthur on the table in front of him* Sheepy: Anthony: Tadano has that demon summoned to remind me of my past mistakes and Arthur is here to enforce those memories. Sheepy: Dio: I'm just some demon to you? That's no way to treat a woman. No wonder you're single. That, and while I understand your mistake, I'm not the only one you've done this to. Sheepy: Anthony: Please stop. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: I'm willing to bet real monhee that he'd have tried to flirt with me if he hadn't known I was a man! Sheepy: Anthony: ...Uh, no. Sheepy: Anthony: I don't like that thought. Why would anyone flirt with you? Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Because you're a weirdo! Sheepy: Anthony: Okay, but I'm not that weird. Sheepy: Anthony: You don't even have hair. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Why would I?? Is that your kink, you dirt-eating shitstain? Sheepy: Anthony: I feel like you don't know the definition of kink. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: I feel like you have no idea what you're talking about! Sheepy: Anthony: You're just not attractive! Sheepy: Anthony: Plus... while personality is second on the list for me, your personality stinks too! Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Say that again, motherfucker! Sheepy: Anthony: Um.. no thanks! Sheepy: Anthony: Overall, you're just not my type! Sheepy: Tadano: We're almost set up... Sheepy: Dio: By the way, Demonee-ho. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Hee? Sheepy: Dio: Dr. Victor hasn't acted creepy or asked you to provide any body parts, right? Sheepy: Dio: He might be helpful but, uh, the way I met him was him being impressed because he hadn't tested on "a Dionysus" before and wanted to dissect me. Sheepy: Dio: Apparently, I am a species now. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: No, ho? *you can't really see it, but he's squinting* Sheepy: Dio: I ended up giving him blood which he used for all sorts of tests. Just be careful, alright? Arsé-kun: D-Ho: I'm a Frost! I doubt hee'd care about me any! Sheepy: Dio: He's already dissected a bunch of those. Sheepy: Dio: Live and dead. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: My point proven- Eh? Sheepy: Dio: And tested on them. He told me all this because I tried to push Tadpole's Frost onto him in my place. Arsé-kun: *and then its awkward for another minute* Sheepy: Dio: Leonardo DaVinci dissected living people to see how their nerves worked. Arsé-kun: D-Ho: Okay, fine. Sheepy: Dio: He's got an "ends justify the means" attitude. Sheepy: Tadano: Who's ready? Arsé-kun: Orpheus: I'd like to start this year.