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skzsauce01 · 3 years

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Matters of the Head and Heart

Synopsis: Mechanical hatmaker Mr. Felix Lee finds himself being charmed by your flirtatious antics towards him. However, you being an upper class young lady means nothing will come out of it. Right? Steampunk-ish AU set in 1850s Victorian London. Historical accuracy not guaranteed.

Warning: none

Word Count: 13.1k

Pairing: fem!reader x hatmaker!Felix

Mr. Felix Lee, having been an apprentice and a hatmaker for several years, is no stranger to the odd request or so, but the one he receives today is by far the most peculiar.

“A tea party?” he repeats. He eyes the cream colored envelope you delicately hold out before him, still trying to comprehend the unusualness of it all. “And I’ve been invited?”

“Yes, Mr. Lee,” you say with a smile. “It’s a short notice, I understand, but the hostess would be delighted if you attended.”

He elects to stall for time while he makes sense of it. Why is he invited? Surely, it is unheard of for a hatmaker to partake in a ladies’ tea party. “If I might ask, who is the hostess?”

“A good friend of mine, Miss Shin. She is quite the hat enthusiast and has been inquiring about the designer of my mechanical blooming rose one.”

“That would be me, I suppose,” he dumbly says. He remembers the challenge of your headdress. The flower petals were meticulously arranged and joined together so that they would furl and unfurl. It was quite the endeavor to craft, so he can hardly blame Miss Shin for wanting to learn more. He takes the envelope from you and sets it down on the counter, accepting the invite. “Who else has been invited?”

“She would not tell me about the others, but I think she’s planning her debut ball soon.”

Felix sagely nods. A young lady’s coming out into society is a grand affair, and Felix has heard the stories from fellow craftsmen about the intricacies demanded. If he’s fortunate, maybe Miss Shin, apparent hat enthusiast, will order something from him. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Nothing else, I’m afraid. Good day.” You curtsy and turn to leave, your wide skirts brushing against the sides of a display table.

Felix is feeling rather bold after all that, so he asks the back of your dress, “Will I see you there?”

You look back, lips curled upward in a small smile. It’s different from your typical ones, more playful and less guarded. The downward tilt of your chin is almost seductive, and Felix is doing his best not to turn scarlet. Some of his customers have flirted with him before, but you have never done so so blatantly. He wonders why you are acting coquettish now. Perhaps he merely hopes you are.

“Of course. Who else would introduce you to her?”

The front door of his shop swings shut, leaving him alone again. It is then that Felix realizes how inappropriate the entire situation was. You, an unmarried young lady, had no chaperone with you.

Felix swiftly returns to his latest piece of work to distract himself. He will not say a word about what occurred, but it does not mean that he is not flustered by it. It does not help that the cornflower blue fabric of the silk ribbon he holds matches your skirt perfectly.

The next morning, Felix arrives at a predicament: what does one wear to a tea party if one has never been to such an event before? After much deliberation and a chat with his elderly neighbor, he decides on his Sunday best despite the day being Saturday. He hangs up a sign in the window of his shop stating that he is closed and begins the walk to Miss Shin’s residence.

Unfortunately, the journey is more arduous than he expects as her home is well outside the city. The vast, open countryside is a stark contrast to the cramped buildings Felix is used to, so he spends most of his time admiring the greens and browns of around him. The scenery is the only pleasant part of his day thus far. His newly polished black boots are dusty from the dirt path he walks on, and there is a thin layer of perspiration on his face.

Sometime in the midmorning, a horse-pulled wagon passes by him, and the occupant facing the back calls out to him in a decidedly ungentlemanly fashion when he sees Felix.

“Sir in the blue coat! Mr. Lee, is that you?” he shouts as he stands up while the wagon is still being driven. “It is! Mr. Yang, stop the cart.”

The wagon slows to a stop, and the loud gentleman waves Felix over. “Mr. Lee! It’s Mr. Han Jisung! Would you like a lift?”

Felix graciously accepts his offer and sits at the back with him. He then greets both men with a nod. Jeongin, the poor driver who looks like he is still half asleep, urges the horse forward.

“Are you heading to Miss Shin’s as well?” Felix asks. Mr. Han is a renowned dressmaker known for his use of mechanical moving elements in his designs, which now that Felix thinks about, is similar to his own specialty. If Miss Shin desires a grandiose debut dress, Mr. Han is the one to order from.

Mr. Han nods and pulls an envelope from his coat. It is the same cream colored one Felix has tucked away in his own, the only difference being the name of the individual being addressed on the front. “I’ve made a few things for her before, but this is the first time she’s invited me to her home. And for a tea party of all things! Have you been to her home before?”

“No. She has never ordered from me either. A friend of hers gave me the invite.” Mr. Han ponders over this for some time, and Felix adds, “Her friend believes that Miss Shin is planning her debut ball soon.”

Mr. Han snaps his fingers at the news and nods. “That must be it! She does enjoy extravagant gowns, and your hats would go well with my designs. The singing bird one in your window is astounding! I ought to make something to go with it.”

Felix, thrilled at such a compliment from a man renowned for his mechanical prowess, smiles proudly. For the rest of the way, they talk about other inconsequential things like the weather and the traveling play troupe.

Soon, they arrive at their destination. The conversation quickly dies away once they take in the estate. Miss Shin has no title, yet her family’s home is fit for a duke or even a king. The exterior paint is a blinding white, not a trace of soot anywhere despite there being a carefully hidden coal burner at the side of the mansion. The front door boasts of a large brass knocker and stained glass cutouts, while the front gardens have a large fountain as a centerpiece.

Mr. Han speaks, or rather whispers, first. “This is certainly a sight.”

“I would say so.”

The driver parks his wagon, dilapidated and shabby compared to the gleaming carriage by the entrance, a short distance behind the carriage. Felix and Mr. Han hop off the wagon while Mr. Yang drives the horse to the stables, also magnificent in their own right. As they walk to the front door, the carriage door opens and out steps another familiar face. Felix and Mr. Han raise their top hats and bow to you, and you curtsy once your footman has helped you down. Your chaperone, who was absent yesterday, follows, and Felix and Mr. Han greet her as well. Felix averts his eyes in an attempt to rid himself of the memory.

“Mr. Lee,” you say. “And you are Mr. Han, I believe? Miss Shin talks at great length about your designs. I’ve been meaning to buy one myself.”

Mr. Han beams at this and holds his arm out for you as your small group approaches the stairs. When you take it, Felix feels a twinge of envy. Instead, he offers his arm out to your chaperone, who also takes it.

A butler, an automaton of the latest model, guides the guests to the garden out back where the party is occuring. Felix cannot help but admire the clever design of the large clock in the foyer and decides he ought to make a clockwork hat soon. The garden, lush with more greenery and sweet scented flowers, has a round table topped with empty plates and pots of tea. The young lady wearing a large brimmed hat with dangling gemstones must be Miss Shin. A hat enthusiast indeed.

You let go of Mr. Han’s arm and head to embrace her. “Ryujin! It’s so nice to see you again!” You turn back and gesture at the two men who accompanied you inside her home. “You know Mr. Han of course, but this is Mr. Lee, the hatmaker you have been inquiring about.”

Felix bows to Miss Shin. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Shin.”

“And you, Mr. Lee. Come, have a seat.”

After the guests take their places — Felix happily notes that you take the seat across from his — Miss Shin signals the automaton waitstaff to begin bringing out the food and pours tea for everyone. There are small tea cakes, finger sandwiches, and other morsels of food that seem too delicate to eat. You make light conversation about how lovely everything is, and Mr. Han agrees. For the next few minutes, there is idle small talk about the garden while the craftsmen impatiently wait for Miss Shin to address why she has invited them to her party. Mr. Han, however, asks before she says anything.

Miss Shin is not perturbed by this. In fact, she smiles broadly at the opportunity. “My debut into society will occur in the upcoming season, and I intend to have a spectacular one. You two gentlemen design the most exquisite clothes, and I need something unlike anything the world has ever seen.”

Felix glances over to see your reaction about being correct, but your face is hidden by a porcelain tea cup. When he checks to see his Mr. Han’s reaction, it is similar to his — expectant and excited for a challenge.

“You will all be paid handsomely, of course,” she offhandedly adds. “No expense will be spared.”

“Did you have something in mind?” Mr. Han asks.

“A theme of royal blue and brass,” she dramatically says, waving her lace gloved hands in the air. “I confess, Mr. Han, I was so enamored with the evening gown you made last season that I decided I wanted something like it for my debut ball.”

Felix has nary an idea what she is referring to, but he assumes it is a work of art. On the other hand, you’re nodding your head in agreement.

“Oh, yes. Everyone at the party thought it was divine!”

Miss Shin picks up her tea cup and primly holds it to her lips. “Mr. Han, Mr. Lee: are you interested?”

“Yes,” Felix immediately replies, of which Mr. Han echoes.

“Perfect. I trust that you both will create something magnificent. But enough business talk. For now, please enjoy yourselves.”

The conversation about her debut’s details lasted less than five minutes. However, they defer to Miss Shin’s request. Felix awkwardly sips his Darjeeling tea while Mr. Han selects a pistachio tea cake.

More compliments to the garden and food are made, and it becomes apparent that there is not much else appropriate to chat about. Felix and Mr. Han are both already uncomfortable, and the chaperones and mechanical waitstaff surrounding the table only exacerbate their unease. Despite Felix’s feelings though, attending the tea party is not all terrible. Not only does Felix receive a commission from who he finally realizes is the daughter of the illustrious Shin Industries, he is allowed to spend some time with you. You are jovial and are able to elicit a few laughs from everyone with your humor. Felix adds upon your jokes and turns a pleasant shade of pink when you chortle at his pun.

By midafternoon, the party closes to an end. Felix graciously thanks Miss Shin for the invite and tells her that he will do his utmost best to create a stunning headdress for her. When the butler arrives to escort them to the front entrance, Felix purposely walks slower to be near you.

“I must thank you for your interest in my designs,” he says. “This is quite the opportunity. Without you, I do not think I would have been here today.”

You shake your head. “She would have found out about you anyway. She’s always on the lookout for latest fashions and innovations, so I was surprised that she hadn’t discovered you before I did.”

You are fast approaching the door; Felix remembers the large clock in the front room. Mr. Han is walking quicklier than Felix prefers, so Felix only has a few seconds to come up with something else to say.

“Will you be needing a new headdress for the ball?” he asks.

“Possibly. Of course, I will come to your shop if I find that I do.”

Felix holds out his arm for you to hold as you head down the stairs. Your hand is gloved, and his coat is thick, but it feels as if your bare skin is touching his.

“I look forward to it,” he says.

Right before you step into the carriage, you flash him yet another coquettish smile that makes him flush. “As do I.”

Your chaperone, an austere lady with a high necked dress, arches an eyebrow at this exchange but says nothing. The last Felix sees of you is the long skirt of your cornflower blue gown disappearing into the carriage.

“Mr. Lee, would like a ride back to the city?” Mr. Han asks, jolting Felix out of his thoughts.

“That would be wonderful.”

The journey back is filled with discussion about Miss Shin’s requests. Mr. Han describes the mysterious evening gown: a vision of royal blue silk, lace trimmings, and brass and phosphorus star-like ornaments. Felix realizes that you and Miss Shin share similar tastes for themed clothes. He tells Mr. Han of this, and Mr. Han gives him a sly look.

“If I may be so forward, do you fancy Miss L/N?”

Felix grows hot and directs his gaze to the countryside. “She is merely a customer of mine.”

“Of course, my mistake," he replies, though his tone implies it is anything but.

Fortunately, Mr. Han does not push the topic any further and mercifully changes the subject to decreasing prices of velvet. Felix inwardly sighs in relief.

Several days later, Felix is in the midst of his work when his shop swings open. When he hears the noise, he pushes his tools to the side and replaces the intense scowl with a pleasant smile.

"Welcome! How may I be of service?"

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lee," the young lady greets. She pushes the brim of her gemstone hat back. "I've just had the most wonderful idea for my hat, and I need you to bring it to life!"

Miss Shin has quite the eccentric style, and her grand idea exemplifies it. After a trip to the newfangled aquarium exhibit at the conservatory, she has decided on an oceanic theme for her debut ball and wants an “octopus” upon her head. Felix has no idea what that is.

"It’s a fascinating thing with eight arms. I hear they also call it the devil fish, though it is more devil than fish.”

Miss Shin’s chaperone nods in agreement and shudders at the mention of it. On the other hand, Miss Shin herself seems enamored with such a creature.

“I will do my best. Are your chosen colors the same?”

“Yes. The royal blue will nicely lend itself to the theme.” She sighs dreamily, and Felix wonders how deeply she has thought about this.

“It sounds marvellous. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Not today, but perhaps another time.” She glances back at the door momentarily. “I must go to Mr. Han about this. I’ll be sure to come with payment for it next time. Goodbye, Mr. Lee.”

“Goodbye, Miss Shin.”

The store is quiet again. Instead of picking up his tools, Felix grabs his stovepipe hat from its hook and heads to the local conservatory to get a glimpse of the octopus Miss Shin spoke so earnestly about.

It is indeed as fascinating as she made it out to be. The gears in his head begin to turn.

The following day, Felix spends the late afternoon at Mr. Han’s shop to discuss Miss Shin’s requests. Mr. Han is also amused by the prospect.

“She asked for an octopus-like gown as well,” he remarks. “Have you seen one before?”

“Just yesterday I visited the aquarium. It’s like a balloon with many strings.”

Mr. Han snorts the comment. “How accurate. Are odd creatures the fashion nowadays?”

Before Felix can answer — “I’m not sure, but Miss Shin seems to dictate trends than follow them” — the bell on the shop door rings, indicating someone has come in. Felix stops leaning against the wall and straightens up to greet the person. Upon doing so, he recognizes that said person is you.

You look just as surprised as he is. “Oh, Mr. Lee! Hello. I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Good afternoon, Miss L/N,” he says, bowing. He adjusts his hat to better hide his warming ears.

Mr. Han stands up from behind the counter and smiles broadly. “Miss L/N, Miss Wang,” he says, referring to your chaperone, who seems pleased to be acknowledged. “Are you here for a dress?”

“Yes. I’ve been waiting all week to come here. But just something simple though.”

Mr. Han’s “simple” designs are still far more extravagant than the gowns sold by typical dressmakers, but they seem to be your taste. Felix pretends to be preoccupied by the mechanical doves flying about the skirt of an unfinished dress while you select something from Mr. Han’s inventory. Your constant humming and deliberation make it difficult for him not to be distracted. He sneaks a glance at you, and you are browsing through the dress forms with interest. A delighted smile appears on your face each time you discover the hidden mechanical details embedded in the fabric.

“I think this one will do,” you say, stopping at a lilac walking dress with small turning gears in place of buttons.

While Mr. Han carefully wraps and packages the gown for you, Felix hovers by the counter, wishing that he had something clever to say. The weather is dull and unimaginative, the current traveling play troupe in town has been discussed to death, and the tea party from last week is old news.

“Have you seen an octopus before?” he blurts out, forgoing a transition. He regrets his decision when he realizes how impolite it is. He thinks he hears Mr. Han stifle a laugh at his eagerness.

To his relief, you don’t seem to care. “Oh, yes! I visited the exhibit at the conservatory a few days ago and saw one up close. A frightening but intriguing beast.”

“It is.” He’s running out of words now. Mr. Han seems to be spending a lengthy amount of time tying twine.

“What did you think of it?” you ask, oblivious to Felix’s increasing internal panic. “I assume you have seen one by your words.”

If he didn’t fancy you before, he does now. “Intriguing as well. And inspiring. It’s unlike anything I have ever seen.”

“Should I expect an octopus hat for sale soon?” you teasingly say. “I imagine you would be able to make something spectacular. You are quite the inventor.”

Your chaperone makes a noise of disapproval at your blatant flattery and possible flirting. “Miss L/N, I believe it is time for us to go. Now.”

You take your parcel from Mr. Han and thank him. To Felix, you grin and say, “I look forward to the hat.”

“Miss L/N, that is enough.”

You bid the two men goodbye and follow your chaperone out the door. Felix hears you grumble, “Fei, you are not very fun.”

When the door shuts, Mr. Han turns to Felix with a satisfied expression. “You’re welcome, by the way. What a shame Miss Wang interrupted.”

“I haven’t a clue what you’re referring to,” Felix says, a pleased blush spreading across his cheeks. There’s no denying that he enjoys being on the receiving end of your advances, no matter how much he pretends he doesn’t notice them. “I think it is best that I go now as well. To start on the drafting process.”

“Oh, you have an idea? What is it?”

Felix describes it to him, detailing the waving tentacles he has envisioned and the way they could be coiled into Miss Shin’s hair if she wished. Mr. Han looks impressed by his ingenuity and ponders over the design like he’s considering something similar.

“I’ll let you take your leave,” Mr. Han says. He unrolls some more length of butcher paper onto the counter and picks up his pencil. “You’re not going to chase after her, are you?”

“I wouldn’t do such a thing!”

Mr. Han nods, clearly not believing him. “Alright then. I hope your plan goes well. Good day, Mr. Lee.”

“Good day.”

True to his word, Felix heads back to his shop and does not run after you. He leaves the ‘CLOSED’ sign hanging in the window and heads to his work surface to begin the calculations for Miss Shin’s headdress. However, even with such an important task at hand, his mind still drifts to you.

He wonders why he is so easily tempted by your flirting. Yes, you are pretty, but beauty alone has never made his heart beat nearly as quickly as it does when he is around you. Your natural charm borders on brazenness sometimes, but he doesn’t detest it. To be honest, it’s refreshing in an era where everyone’s advances are supposed to be reserved and ambiguous.

He realizes he has answered his own question.

With a soft sigh, he returns to his sketches, each curve of his drawings reminding him of your carefree smile. He fancies you. He fancies you a lot.

As midwinter approaches and the beginning of the season begins, Felix’s shop is flooded with customers wanting new hats. Somehow, word has gotten out among the upper class about the new hatmaker with fine craftsmanship and one-of-a-kind designs. Most of his finished products are snatched up, and several people ask about placing future orders. He takes a select few; after all, he has another very important project that needs to be done.

He asks Mr. Han if he has experienced this wave of new business as well, to which Mr. Han says something similar happens to him every season.

“You’re a new face, so it’s natural,” he assures. “I imagine Miss Shin’s upcoming ball has much to do with it as well.”

Felix does not fully understand Mr. Han’s remark until Miss Shin stops by with her payment days later. She gives him a little more than necessary, but when Felix tries to hand the remainder back, she waves it off, citing it as a gesture of her appreciation.

With more cheer than before, Felix shows Miss Shin the progress he has made on her headdress so far: tentacles that trail down the back, moving pieces that make it appear the arms are waving, and glowing phosphorus eyes. Miss Shin marvells over each element and declares it spectacular. Then she pulls an envelope from her reticule and presents it to Felix, who stares at it not unlike he did weeks ago to a similar piece of stationery.

His name is clearly written on the front, but he hesitantly asks, “It is for me?”

“Yes. An invitation to my debut.”

You will certainly be there as a member of Miss Shin’s court, and if he goes, then…

Perhaps a dance? A chat? His mind spins with possibilities. However, he’s more concerned about why he’s being invited to such a high-class affair as a hatmaker.

“Pardon me, but why am I invited?”

“In case of mechanical errors. I can’t have the day spoiled because of something like that. Not that I expect it to,” she hastily adds after seeing Felix’s affronted expression. “Mr. Han has been invited for the same reason. It’s simply a precaution.”

“I see.”

“A few of my friends are asking about you as well. Besides,” she slyly adds, “you’re a young, eligible gentleman. I’m sure someone will be delighted with your presence.”

Felix nods slowly as if he is thinking it over. Is she talking about you? He certainly hopes so. “Thank you for the invite. Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

“Just sure to attend my debut. Anyway, I must be on my way now. Good day, Mr. Lee.”

“Good day.”

She and her chaperone head for the door. Once they are out of sight, Felix breaks the seal on the envelope and notes the date of the party: nearly a fortnight away. No matter his previous apprehensions about it, he is going to attend. He would be a fool not to.

The ball is in a week’s time, and Felix has spent the past few days and nights putting the finishing touches to the octopus headdress. It is done now, nary a mechanical error or physical blemish in sight. He even has Mr. Han look it over, and the mechanical genius himself deems it to be perfect.

Felix sighs in relief and sinks into his chair, the cushion worn thin from so many hours of him sitting on it. “This was the most challenging design I have ever done.”

“You did a splendid job,” Mr. Han reassures. “Would you like me to mail it to her along with her dress? I’m nearly done with it.”

“That would be wonderful.” He doubts Miss Shin will return since he has not heard a word from her since she last visited a week ago. The pieces of gossip he overhears from customers corroborate his assumptions; they whisper about Miss Shin overseeing the planning of her extravagant ball by herself and how exhausting it must be.

He delicately places the hat into a velvet-lined hatbox and covers the top with tissue paper. Then he pops on the lid.

“Are you attending her debut?” he asks. “Miss Shin said she invited you.”

“Of course!” he replies, and Felix is glad that he won’t be the lone craftsman there. “It’s far too good of a business opportunity to pass up. I take it you will be there as well?”

“Like you said, it’s far too good of a business opportunity to pass up.”

“And other kinds of opportunities as well.” He glances at the clock hanging above Felix’s head. “Ah, I ought to get going. This was supposed to be a quick break. Goodbye, Mr. Lee.”

Mr. Han holds the box close to his chest when he leaves. Felix watches closely and relaxes when Mr. Han does not run down the street like he expected him to. He trusts that the hat will arrive in perfect condition, but if it does not, well, that is why Miss Shin invited him to attend the ball in the first place.

Despite knowing that he will be going to an upscale affair, he has not prepared himself in the slightest. After deliberating for a few minutes, Felix takes up his stovepipe hat and heads down the street as well. If he wants to impress you — potential future customers, he means — he should at least buy a new coat and cravat.

On the day of the highly anticipated ball, Felix rises before the sun. It’s an evening party, so he needn’t be up so early, but he cannot sleep. His body is tired and demands to rest, but his mind is buzzing. As such, he brews himself a cup of tea and begins searching through old design sketches to fix.

Two redesigns and recalculations later, a gentle tap on the storefront’s window makes him look up. He has only had a half a cup of tea, so he is unsure if his eyes are truly working when he spots you standing outside. He isn’t even open for business yet. You cup the glass door and peer inside, presumably to see if he is awake yet. He blinks twice, and you are still there.

He walks over and unlocks the door, making you take a step back. When he sees you wearing in the purple walking dress you bought weeks ago, he feels disheveled in comparison. He pats down his uncombed hair. “Good morning, Miss L/N.”

“Good morning, Mr. Lee. I apologize for coming this hour, but it was urgent, and I wasn’t sure if there would be enough time if I came by later.”

Felix is wide awake now. “What is the matter?”

You hold out a bronze hatbox to him. “Do you remember the blooming rose headdress you made? Well, I was careless last night and accidentally dropped it. It’s broken, and I was planning to wear it tonight. Is there a chance it could be repaired by then?”

“May I…” He hovers his hand over the box, his fingers just a few centimeters above yours.

“Yes! Of course.”

Felix opens it, and to his relief, the damage is not as bad as he expects. There are a few petals askew, jamming the other flowers around it and causing the entire mechanical rose garden to stutter. The only other concern is the small grease stain on the silk ribbon, but that is a simple fix. He wonders where you dropped it. Certainly not on the ground since the damage seems to be minimal.

“I can repair it. Could you come back in a few hours? Around mid-morning?”

You sheepishly smile at him. “Would it be possible for you to give it to me at the party? I wasn’t actually given permission to leave the house today.”

It is then that Felix notices that, once again, you have no chaperone with you. Or does your carriage driver count as one, he flippantly thinks. It does not matter though. The sudden realization about the inappropriate situation makes him more shy.

He takes the box from you and steps back into the safety of his store. With the clear door threshold dividing the two of you, he feels much more at ease. You seem slightly saddened by this, but perhaps it is his wishful thinkings.

“Of course,” he says, trying to hide his reddening face by looking at the cobblestone pavement. “Where shall I wait for you?”

“By the fountain in the front gardens. I have to arrive at the Shin residence early, so it will likely be me waiting for you.”

Felix nods and takes one small step backwards. “I will see you tonight then, Miss L/N. Good day.”

“Good day, Mr. Lee. And thank you for your help.”

You walk back to your carriage and wave goodbye when you see that he is still standing by the door. He weakly waves back and scurries to his work table where he promptly sets the box down and whispers panicked mutterings to himself. He feels like he’s overheating.

He drinks the remainder of his tea to cool himself down before settling into his chair. He reaches for his tools and begins taking apart the mechanical flowers. It is a distraction from you but not a very good one.

When Mr. Han show up in an actual carriage in the evening, Felix’s nerves are not any better. He fumbled with the top buttons of his shirt while dressing, and it took him several attempts to tie his cravat correctly. Now, every bit of his body tremors as he steps inside the carriage.

“Well, don’t we look like dandies tonight?” Mr. Han remarks. He eyes the hatbox Felix has on his lap. “Did Miss Shin send it back?”

“Miss L/N needed an emergency repair,” Felix responds as he pretends to adjust his cravat, making it look worse than it did mere seconds ago. The evening air is warmer than he anticipated. “Are you excited?”

Mr. Han lets his poor attempt at steering the conversation away slide. “More or less. I would rather be at home, but parties can be fun.”

Felix is inclined to agree, though he is most excited and terrified at the prospect of seeing you again. The conversation devolves into silence as both gentlemen stare out the windows, observing the countryside at night. There is not a hint of light save for the moon and stars above. The wind blows in any direction uninterrupted, making the grass and wildflowers rustle.

It is a romantic picture.

Soon, the natural countryside begins to wane as they approach Shin residence, lit up in shades of blue with phosphorus lamps, comes into view. There is a line of carriages on the gravel path leading inside the estate. They are one of the last ones, and Felix is overwhelmed by guilt for being so late. How long did he make you wait? Mr. Han pokes his head out the window and mouths an exclamation at the sight.

“I don’t think I have seen or even heard of a debut ball of this size,” he says. “Well, she did that no expense would be spared.”

Felix, even more anxious about the party now, only nods in agreement. As their carriage nears the entrance, he scans the gardens for the designated meeting spot. There is a shadowy figure by the fountain, nearly hidden by the tall hedges. Although he cannot make out who it exactly is, it must be you.

When they finally reach the entrance, he opens the door and steps out with your hatbox tucked under your arm. He heads towards the fountain, the opposite from the main door of the house. The driver, the same one as last time, gives him a strange look but says nothing. Mr. Han seems to understand and says that he will see him inside.

Felix slows his pace, making sure that the few guests waiting to be let into the estate will be inside by the way he reaches you. There are curious glances in his direction, but they rapidly turn to the decorated main door as the line moves forward. Once there is no one left outside, he quickly strides over to the fountain. You are nowhere in sight, so he presumes that you are behind a hedge. Hopefully, you have not left.

“Miss L/N,” he softly calls, “are you here yet?”

Like he hopes, you walk out from behind a hedge, the hem of your dress showing up first. Felix has to suppress a gasp when you stop right in front of him. You are very close, and your evening gown and typical daywear are vastly different. Your bare shoulders, to put it mildly, are distracting.

“Hello, Mr. Lee. How are you tonight?”

“I am well, thank you.” It comes out a little strained, and to deflect from that, he holds out the hatbox. “Your headdress, as requested.”

“Thank you. The ball has started, so I should head back before they notice me missing.” You take it from him and hold it in your arms. “Shall we head in together?”

You really are brazen. As much as he would like to spend more time with you, he knows the social implications it has and the damage that will be done to your reputation. This very act of meeting you alone is illicit.

“I think I would like to wander the gardens some more,” he lies. He vaguely gestures at the plants. “They’re quite lovely.”

You give him a half smile. “They are. Ask me for a dance later, will you? I would very much like it. Until then. ”

Like nothing out of ordinary occurred, you merrily head back to the house, leaving Felix at a loss for words. He paces around the fountain and imagines the conversation over and over again. You were no doubt flirting with him. He is beyond delighted, but he has no idea what to do with this newfound development. He spent the last months admiring you from afar.

Ten minutes later, after he is certain that no one will connect your reappearance with his, he finds himself inside the bustling ballroom of the mansion. ‘No expense spared’ is correct.

There is a full orchestra playing on a raised section and a quadrille underway. He must have missed the first dance. The automaton waitstaff are conducting their own dance through the crowd as they distribute drinks and collect empty plates. The oceanic theme, so earnestly described by Miss Shin, has come to life with the blue tinted lighting and sea creature motifs decorating the walls. Felix notes that although there are many species of fish, the devil fish is not among them. Against the west wall leans the refreshment table, draped with scalloped tablecloth reminiscent of the waves. Just a few steps away, to Felix’s amazement, is an enormous aquarium filled with exotic fishes and elegant aquatic plants. He suspects that the conservatory might have loaned them for the night. However, he would not be surprised if the Shins had their own aquarium.

“There you are.” Mr. Han emerges from the crowd, relief clear on his face. “Miss Shin has been wondering where you were. I didn’t say anything about your… plans, but I may have given her the impression that you got lost on the grounds somehow.”

Mr. Han leads Felix to wherever Miss Shin is. In the meantime, Felix hopes that she just wants to introduce him to a few of her friends and not that her headdress needs to be fixed. Imagine how mortifying that would be.

“Mr. Lee! You’ve arrived!” she exclaims. The surrounding guests all immediately turn to get a look at him, and he feels embarrassment coloring his face. “Everyone, this is the gentleman who created this extraordinary octopus upon my head.”

Just like that, Felix is inundated with questions.

“How long did it take?”

“What excellent craftsmanship! Are you taking commissions now?”

“How much for a hat?”

Felix politely answers them all, half bewildered and half pleased by the attention. Mr. Han watches from the sidelines with a proud expression and gives Felix encouraging nods when no one is looking. Several minutes later, Felix has earned himself a slew of new potential customers, all who are more than willing to pay a visit to his shop the next time they are in town.

“It has been in perfect working order ever since I received it,” Miss Shin reports. She reaches up to adjust one of the metal tentacles coiled into her hair. “You won’t be disappointed.”

Felix relaxes when he hears the good news. “Thank you for compliments. Pardon my manners, but I do not think I have mentioned how wonderful the evening has been so far. Your ball is a true success.”

“Thank you,” she says, the ever gracious hostess. “Do enjoy the rest of the party.”

One of her court members adds, “And do be a gentleman and ask a certain Miss Y/N L/N for a dance.”

“Yuna! Don’t be so—”

Felix does not get to hear what Miss Shin says next since Mr. Han pulls him away to the refreshment table, far away from where they were. Thank goodness for his perceptiveness. Felix is only a few shades lighter than crimson.

He does intend to ask you to dance, but the question is when? You were not with the other court members by Miss Shin, and at a party this large, he is unsure if he will even be able to find you.

“Having fun so far?” Mr. Han asks as he plucks a cream and jam roll in the shape of a fish off a serving tray. “It seems like everyone knows about your fancies.”

Felix ignores the last sentence. “It’s a magnificent party. It really does feel like we are all in the depths of the ocean here. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“More or less. The food is divine.” He punctuates the remark by grabbing another roll. “If I were less refined, I might just filch the entire tray.”

By the way Mr. Han is marvelling over the selection, Felix does not put it past him. He is not in any place to judge though; he, too, is considering taking a few treats home to eat.

“Mr. Han! And Mr. Lee as well! Good evening.”

Felix does not have to turn around to know who it is. Mr. Han’s sly face gives it all away, and your voice has become all too familiar to him.

Mr. Han greets, “Miss L/N! How lovely you look tonight.”

In the darkness, Felix was not able to see you clearly. Under the phosphorus lights and gas lamps, you are radiant.

He first notices the gold roses, slowly blossoming and then slowly wilting, adorning your head. Then his eyes travel downward to the ribbon choker around your throat and to your shoulders. He quickly averts his eyes to the evening gown you wear — sage green with an understated floral pattern, which perfectly matches your headdress. The fan in your hand is closed shut, the golden handle appearing bronze under the lights. He cannot bring himself to look at your face; he can already imagine the pretty smile you have, and that alone is making him grow warm.

“I do believe that is Miss Choi!” Mr. Han interjects. “Pardon me, I must speak to her immediately.”

You and Felix bid him goodbye, leaving the two of you alone. You wait for him to greet you, speak, something, but nothing comes to mind. He steadily shifts his gaze upwards and tries to lessen his blush when he sees the corner of your mouth quirked up.

“Did they miss you?” he says, breaking the silence. “Miss Shin and the rest of the court, I mean.”

“I don’t think so, being a very busy night and all. I think they were more concerned about dancing.”

Which reminds him…

With as much confidence as he can muster, he holds out his right hand to you. “Would you like to dance, Miss L/N? I recall you requested one.”

You place your left hand in his and let him guide you to the middle of the dance floor. “I must confess, I only came to ask you if you were going to ask me to dance.”

“I would not have forgotten.”

“Are you certain?” you tease. “It seems like you only remembered when mentioned dancing.”

“Believe me, Miss L/N, I would never be able to forget such a bold request.”

He knows exactly where the surge of genuine confidence came from. The second he felt your fingers on his palm, something inside him lit up. Your touch made the moment so much more real, his wishings no longer daydreams.

The quadrille finishes, and the orchestra starts playing a waltz. Though he is stunned by the change — he had been anticipating walking and turning about you, not twirling you around — you are not. While you curtsy as a formal greeting before the dance, you deftly switch your fan to your left hand. Before he can bow in return, you hold his left hand and smile demurely at him.

“I have another confession to make Mr. Lee: I have been waiting to dance with you for the longest time now.”

He cautiously presses his hand to the small of your back, pulling you a bit closer than social customs allows. He can blame it on the crowded ballroom. He can feel your warmth through the fabric, and it occurs to him that you are in his arms just like in all those outdated fairy tales.

“If we are making confessions, then I suppose I have one as well,” he says.

He hears the expectant note in your voice. “And what is it?”

“I wanted to dance with you too.”

It’s a simple statement, but you grin from ear to ear, so bright the rest of the room seems dark in comparison. His heart flutters. When he twirls you around again, you lean your head back and sigh.

“You are marvellous dancer,” you remark as you sweep back your skirts to make more room for him. “Did you take lessons? Or do you just have a natural talent for it?”

“A bit of both. I took some about four years ago during my apprenticeship. I guess I still remember the basics.”

“No time for anymore now, I presume, with the amount of business you have been getting. Ever since I bought the butterfly headdress — do you remember that? It was ages ago, but it was the first one I bought from you.”

Felix remembers that day very well. He had opened his shop just half a year ago, and you and your chaperone stumbled in to wait out the rain. While you were captivated by the beating wings of a butterfly, he was awestruck by your gaiety on such a gloomy day. The silk flowers of your bonnet were drooping, your jacket damp from the incoming storm, and your face flushed from running, but your eyes held wonder and your lips a song.

You sang so much praise for the headdress that he went to bed that night hearing it in his sleep.

“Anyway,” you continue, “from the first time I came to your shop, I just knew you were talented. How long have you been working as a hatmaker? Your age and expertise don’t seem to match up. You are quite young compared to the other mechanical and automaton designers.”

“A year and a half now. I took over the business when my mentor retired. I do not think I am much older than you.”

You ponder over this for a while. “Forgive my forwardness and my lack of regard for etiquette — being friends with Ryujin for so long has its flaws — but are you courting anyone?”

Felix stops breathing for a few seconds. “I am not. Why?”

“Just check— just curious. Well, perhaps you will find someone that interests you here. You could ask someone to dance and talk to them to see if they catch your fancy.” Your expression is innocent, but your words are laced with whimsy.

“Who do you think would be a good match for me?” he asks, playing along. “Surely you know a few of the guests here.”

You pretend to think it over, pursing your lips together in concentration. Felix thickly swallows and glances at the space between your brows instead. His heartbeat is even more erratic than before.

“I don’t like to gossip, but I did hear a rumor that a young lady on the debutante’s court is interested in being courted soon. Her coming-out will be happening this season.”

“Ah, interesting,” he replies in an overly thoughtful manner. “If only I could receive an invite to the event. I am afraid that I am rather unfamiliar with most of the people here.”

“I think I can help with that,” you say. “I will speak to her about it. I’m sure she would love for you to attend.”

He tries to keep an air of nonchalance but fails when he spots your lips twitching into a smile. “Thank you, Miss L/N. I greatly appreciate it.”

Like the scene has been rehearsed before, the waltz ends then. Felix shallowly dips you like the dance dictates and helps right you back up. In doing so, you wind up far closer to him than you were before. You are pressed up against his chest, and he can hear your breaths. With the bubble of intimacy gone and the reality of the situation settling in, Felix hurries backwards, confidence dissipating.

He is not alone though. You snap your fan open, drawing it across your cheeks and concealing your face. He does not think he has seen you this flustered before.

“Thank you for the dance,” you tell him behind the painted screen. “You were a wonderful partner.”

“You were as well.”

The two of you walk to the sidelines together, an appropriate distance apart. He glances over to you occasionally and notes that your usual cool composure has not returned yet. Before Felix can continue the conversation, the excitable young lady — Miss Yuna Whatever-Her-Surname-Is — emerges from the crowd and rushes to you.

“Y/N! Do tell us about it!” she exclaims, forgetting that Felix is right there. She sidles up to you, holds your arm, and waits expectantly for the details.

You duck a little lower behind your fan and hiss, “Yuna!”

“Good night, Miss L/N,” Felix says. “It was a pleasure to dance with you.”

He makes himself scarce but not before he overhears you laugh and sigh, “Yuna Shin, don’t ever do that again. But yes, it was all very lovely.” He swells with joy.

The orchestra has started another waltz, one that is uplifting and bright. Felix hums along to it as he heads to the refreshment table. Almost unsurprisingly, Mr. Han is still there as well with a miniature trifle in hand. The dessert looks unappetizing to Felix with its blue layers, but Mr. Han is enjoying it.

“You don’t like dancing?” Felix says as he inspects the table for a drink.

“The contrary. This is just replenishment for the night.” He spoons another bite into his mouth. “And all the ladies seem to be on the dance floor anyway.”

Felix finds a cup of punch and drinks it heartily. He has never attended a debut ball before, so he is not sure of what there is to do other than dance and mill around. He spends some time observing the creatures in the aquarium nearby. There is unfortunately not an octopus in the glass tanks, leading him to believe that this is the Shins’ own aquarium.

He returns back to Mr. Han, and the two spy a few of their creations in the crowd. They all seem to be garnering attention from other guests, which bodes well for their financial future. Mr. Han, who is much more knowledgeable about who is who, updates him on the latest news regarding each of the guests. Felix nods along, only partially paying attention to his words as he watches couples dance at the same time.

As much fun as it is to be an observer though, it gets dull quickly when Felix realizes how much he would rather be home than here. He has no idea where you currently are, but it would be impolite for him to monopolize your time with another dance. Not to mention, it would stir rumors, and he wants no part in them.

“Would it be rude to leave now?” he rhetorically asks.

Mr. Han ponders over this. “Considering it has only been an hour, I think so, but let’s leave anyway.” He picks up a napkin and starts surreptitiously piling rolls and tarts inside. “Keep watch for me.”

Felix complies by standing right in front of the napkin and thus obstructing the view from the rest of the room. “You just said it would be rude.”

“I have to open early tomorrow, and so do you. New commissions to work on and all that.”

The people in his life, Felix notes, have a tendency to disregard social customs. However, he does not mind in this case or your case. Mr. Han filches a few more desserts at the behest of Felix, and the two wait for Miss Shin to finish her waltz to say goodbye.

“So early? The ball has just begun! And what if a problem arises?”

Felix gives this comment pause, but Mr. Han bats it away as if it were merely a pesky bug. “Miss Shin, I assure you that all of my — and Mr. Lee’s as well — are in perfect working order. When has anything I made for you been otherwise?”

While the two of them discuss this, Felix stands by and adds whatever he can. Both Mr. Han and Miss Shin are quick with their replies, and there is hardly a break in between. However, Miss Shin eventually concedes after learning of the new work they have to start.

“Very well. Thank you for attending” — she taps one of the brass tentacles on her skirt with her matching fan — “and for this beautiful evening gown. And thank you for the wonderful headdress, Mr. Lee.”

“It was our pleasure,” Felix answers. “Good night, Miss Shin.”

Felix and Mr. Han make their way to the exit, sidestepping the people lingering around the windows. Felix glances around to find you. He wants to give you a proper goodbye, but you are nowhere to be seen. There are no gold roses in the sea of people. He resigns to his predicament and hopes that you will not be too disappointed that he danced and left.

The area outside the mansion, swarming with exhilarated guests not too long ago, is empty. The blue lamps illuminating the cobblestone path seem forlorn instead of lively, and the silence only emphasizes the feeling.

“I’ll get the carriage,” Mr. Han offers, already heading in that direction. “Just wait here.”

Felix sits on the last step of the stairs and listens to the crickets in the bushes. The moon is higher in the sky now, and the wind from earlier has died down to a breeze. He sighs and loosens his cravat leans backwards on his forearms, enjoying the cool air on his face. It is a pleasant contrast to the party inside.

“You could have said goodbye at least.”

When he turns around, fumbling about and trying to make himself presentable again, you are standing a few steps above him. You said the words jokingly, but he hears the hurt underneath.

“I apologize,” he whispers. The darkness hides his guilt well. “I couldn’t find you.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Not one for parties, I take it?”

“I only came to talk and dance with you,” he admits, growing more embarrassed by the second. “If things were different, I would stay all night, but once I used my chance, I didn’t know what else to do.”

“We could have still chatted after.” You walk down to his step and sit beside him, the silk of your gown brushing against his leg. The only thing separating the two of you is your wide skirt. You place your hand only a few centimeters away from his on the steps. “I know I was acting a bit silly earlier, so I want to ask you outright. Forgive my forwardness, but do you intend to court me, or am I just seeing things that are not there?”

Felix goes still. He had not thought about his feelings that way. He certainly likes you, but a courtship never even crossed his mind because of how far up the social ladder you were. He wanted to catch your eye, but he never thought you would pay genuine attention back to him.

“Because if you do,” you continue after he says nothing, “I want to be courted seriously. If you are merely teasing me, then tell me now.”

“Miss L/N, are you teasing me now? I am no one important, yet you pursue me.”

“I am not teasing, I swear,” you solemnly say, looking directly into his eyes. “I will not play with your heart like that. And to me, you are important. Never mind the wonderful things you have made for me, I like you. You and how industrious you are, how assured you are in yourself, how you play along with my jokes for my sake. You are nothing like all the rakes and fops around me.”

He can hardly believe his ears. After a tense silence, he says, “If you will let me, I will court you seriously.”

“Mr. Lee, I have always allowed it. Every joke, every smile — it was an invitation for you.” He glances over at you in shock, and you halfheartedly smile at him. “Perhaps I was not clear enough about my advances.”

“No. I was simply too afraid to act upon them. I did not realize your intentions were pure.”

“I assure you, Mr. Lee, you were the only gentleman I flirted with.”

The nearby sound of a horse trotting interrupts the moment. Felix glances down to where the stables are and spies a silhouetted carriage approaching. Mr. Han was quick with his task, and Felix wishes he had been less so.

Having seen the same thing, you stand up and fluff out your skirt, preparing to go back inside. The silk ripples in waves, and Felix stares in fascination. You catch him in the act and flash him a knowing smile. “Good night. I hope to see you soon.”

Felix bashfully replies, “Good night.”

You give him one last look and hurry away before company arrives. Your head bobs up and down as you take the stairs two by two, and Felix watches you disappear into the mansion. He is still staring at the door when the carriage drives up.

“Mr. Lee!”

“Coming!”

The journey back to the city is mostly silent since Mr. Han seems worn out by the night’s events already. Felix does not try to engage him in conversation, choosing instead to sink into the velvet seat and to admire the sky. If he looks at it long enough, he thinks he can see your face among the constellations.

The following days, all Felix hears about in the sparse amount of time he interacts with customers — his shop has been mostly devoid of hats and headdresses ever since Miss Shin introduced him to all her friends — is Miss Shin’s debut. Every piece of gossip he overhears while out revolves around it and the other upcoming debut balls in the season. On one of his outings to the market, your name is mentioned, and he stops in his tracks. He pretends to check his pocket watch and turns it over and over in his hands as if he has found a new scuff mark on the brass.

“I heard she sent out the invites already,” says the young lady with a pink bonnet. “Did you get one?”

“Of course! But Tzuyu Chou’s ball is on the same night, so which one do I go to?”

“Both, silly! Just leave one of them early and—”

Once the topic changes, Felix quits his act and continues onward to the market. He has not received an invitation to your ball yet, and surely that was what you were alluding to during the waltz. Perhaps you are going to hand-deliver it yourself. That is all he can hope for because the other reason is that you have changed your mind about him.

When he returns to his shop with new bronze sheets and copper wiring, he is disappointed. You are not waiting outside nor is there an envelope tucked underneath his door. Felix brews himself a cup of tea and settles at his work table chair. He pulls out his sketches for a hat decorated with swimming fish and starts on its construction. All he can do now is wait.

After several days and far too much time spent agonizing over the issue, you finally grace Felix’s shop with your presence. When the bell on the door chimes and he sees you at the threshold, he nearly leaps out from behind the counter, shoving away his tools in a weak attempt to appear well put together. He wipes a spot of grease from his brow with the back of his hand and bows at you in greeting.

“Welcome. How may I be of service?”

“Are you accepting custom orders right now?” you ask, walking closer to him. Your chaperone follows closely behind to ensure that you are not about to blatantly flirt with him again, though Felix has a sneaking feeling that you will anyway. “I heard you might be busy. It seems like everyone wants a hat from you now.”

“What did you have in mind?”

You glance at the current project is working on. “Actually, that one seems interesting. Or is it someone else’s?”

The clockwork hat is indeed someone else’s, Miss Lia Choi, to be precise. “It is.”

“Ah, I see.” You do not look the slightest bit dejected at the news. “Well, I think something with butterflies would be lovely. I have lots of good memories involving them, so I want them to be part of my debut ball.”

Felix cannot get a single sound out, so he elects to duck back behind the counter. He picks up his pencil and rolls out another sheet of butcher paper. The blank canvas stares back at him, and he hastily sketches the form of the headdress like he wants to show you an idea he has in mind. He has nothing in his mind. He cannot think after a statement like that. He puts the pencil down.

“I can have a rough draft of the headdress done in a few days,” he says. “Or do you have a design planned out?”

“Perhaps something like this?” You take the pencil from the counter, your fingers brushing against his in a manner that is not accidental.

While Felix does his best to maintain his composure in front of your chaperone — she seems to not have noticed your gesture, thankfully — you draw a cluster of butterflies on the side of the headdress and small flowers to fill in the gaps. You mindlessly hum a melody as you sketch, and it sounds awfully similar to a waltz he danced to sometime ago.

You push the paper towards him. “Here.”

He glances over it, lightly touching the lines and curves with his finger. It is a pretty design and very extravagant. He will likely have to make some adjustments so you can actually wear it without injuring your neck, but it is possible to make it into a reality. “I will get to work on it soon. When do you need it by?”

“As soon as possible.” You open your reticule and set down a sheaf of banknotes so large, Felix cannot see your hand at all. “I know you have a long line of customers, so I will pay double the regular price for it to be finished in two weeks’ time.”

He would have done it without the monetary incentive anyway. Nonetheless, he nods and assures you that it will be done by then. You audibly sigh and thank him in advance for his timeliness.

“Is that all for today?” he asks. He wants you to say no, to make up an excuse to stay.

To his disappointment and seemingly to your own as well, you reply, “Yes. I’ve got a busy day ahead of myself. Well, good day. It is always a pleasure coming to your shop.”

“Good day.”

He watches you leave. You do not turn around to give him one last look like he anticipates. Your chaperone is keeping a careful eye on you and your antics, and she is following close behind as you out the door anyway. However, you do smile at him through the window. Even though you will not be able to see it, he returns it.

Once you are out of view, he collects the banknotes on the counter to put away. As he does so, he notices a corner of an envelope peeking out from the pile.

Mr. Felix Lee, it says across the front in black ink.

Could this be the invitation he has been waiting so long for? He does not know what else it could be, but he is still nervous. With trembling fingers, he breaks open the glossy red seal and takes out the stiff cardstock inside.

You have been cordially invited to Miss Y/N L/N’s debut.

He laughs, one mixed with relief and pure joy, and it echoes throughout the shop. The sound bounces off the empty walls like a never-ending symphony of happiness.

Once the euphoria has waned a bit, he sets his previous project and begins refining your sketch. He traces over your butterfly wings, adding more dimension and adjusting angles as he does so. He can already see it coming to life, the wings beating in harmony to the music, the delicate twitches of the antennae as you move your head.

To think that you will be wearing this at your coming-out and that he will be there to see it. Though it is an inside joke between the two of you, it might as well be a public declaration of courtship to him.

He works on your headdress almost feverishly, neglecting his other projects for as long as he can afford. When Mr. Han comes by for tea and a chat a few days later — they have become friends after Miss Shin’s ball — Felix is frantically soldering the minute hand onto one of the many tiny clocks on this hat.

“Do you want any help?” Mr. Han asks, popping the last bite of his biscuit into his mouth. “I do have experience with metalworking, you know.”

“I’m alright,” he mutters. The client is supposed to be arriving within the hour, and he cannot imagine how damaged his reputation will be if someone else other than himself is found working on the hat. He shudders as he pictures the suspicion on his customers’ faces. “Sorry for not being better company.”

“Don’t fret. I only came because I had news regarding Miss L/N.”

Felix nearly misplaces the minute hand in his surprise. He feigns nonchalance at Mr. Han’s statement. “Oh?”

“Do you know Lord Seungmin Kim? Apparently, he is interested in courting her. I overheard someone say that he is to be her partner for the first dance.”

Felix says nothing, just grips his tool tighter and intently stares at the tiny Roman numerals in front of him. He did not expect to be chosen for the honor of the first dance, but it does not mean his pride goes unhurt. Lord Kim, a nobleman with wealth and connections, is well above him in terms of social status.

“That’s… that’s impressive,” he says.

“Yes, and I also heard that she does not want him to be her partner. Something about another gentleman in mind.”

Mr. Han looks pointedly at Felix, who pointedly pretends not to notice it. He affixes the hand to the remaining clock and checks everything once more for any careless errors. His heart thumps in his chest, twice the speed of the soft tick-tocking of the miniature clocks. If he is the alleged gentleman you have in mind, then the first dance would truly be a public declaration.

“Have you been invited?” Mr. Han asks, though it seems as if he already knows the answer.

“Yes. What about you?”

“No.”

As far as he can tell, there are no flaws with the hat, so he puts his tools away. “You seem content with that,” he remarks as he rummages around in his cabinets for an empty hatbox.

“Of course! I will only miss the food, so do filch some for me. I did it at Miss Shin’s.”

Felix makes a noise in acknowledgment. The gears in his head are working overtime as he plots out what your debut will be like. You and him, in each other’s arms, in front of everyone. What will they say? What will he do afterwards?

The sound of a ringing bell interrupts his thoughts, and in flies Miss Choi, another member of Miss Shin’s court and a friend of yours.

“Is it ready? Please tell me it is! I have been waiting all day for it!” she says, breathless from her bursting in. She spies it sitting on the counter and immediately sets it on her head. “It’s lovely! And not heavy at all.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Choi,” the two men chorus.

“Oh, yes. Good afternoon. I didn’t know you two knew each other this well,” she distractedly says. She turns to Felix, her hand reaching for her reticule. “I paid for this already, right?”

He nods. “Last week.”

“Perfect. Oh, goodness” — she glances at the wall-mounted clock behind Felix — “Y/N will be cross with me for being late. I will see you at the ball then, Mr. Lee. Thank you again. Goodbye!”

She leaves in the same frenzied manner as she came, and her worn out chaperone hurries after her.

“That was a confirmation if I ever heard one. She must know the details.”

“That was nothing.” Yet he desperately hopes that it was something.

“You keep pretending that as if no one knows of you and Miss L/N’s relationship. Everyone knows she fancies you, and you her, so there is no need to keep putting up this act.” Mr. Han sighs and crumples up his paper napkin. “I ought to get back to work now. Thank you for the tea.”

“Thank you for the company. Good day, Mr. Han.”

Mr. Han stands up from his seat, throwing his coat back, and heads for the door. “Good day. Do not forget about the food.”

Felix rolls his eyes, but a small smile forces its way onto his face anyway. “I won’t.”

Possibly the most important day of Felix’s day has arrived. He adjusts his cuffs, his cravat, his shirt — everything really — mindlessly as he waits for the time to tick down. He is restless. His usually nimble fingers turn clumsy when he tries to work on a hat for a client, and he cannot focus on anything. He has not seen you since you dropped off the invitation all those days ago. Your chaperone came to pick up your headdress, and she gave him a cool onceover before advising that he come to the ball a tad earlier.

As such, he locks up his shop two hours before the starting time and makes the walk to the banquet hall where your debut is being held. He could have rented a carriage like Mr. Han did for that seemingly long ago ball, but the hall is not too far away. Being dressed in finery, he receives curious looks from passersby and more batting eyelashes from young girls than he likes.

By the time he arrives at the hall, dusk is darkening into night. The gas lamps on the streets have lit up. He is a little more than half an hour early, which is hopefully sufficient for whatever reason why he was suggested to do so. There are no signs of guests, and stricken by the fact that he has no idea what to do, Felix idles around the entrance. He cannot just barge in; that would be rude. He incessantly checks his pocket watch for the time, wishing that someone would come and save him for this predicament.

Fortunately, his wishes are soon answered. The main doors open, and out steps you in all of your radiance. Your eyes meet his, and all he can do is gaze at you.

Your dress is reminiscent of what you wore at Miss Shin’s debut: a green evening gown dotted with tiny pink blossoms, and gold trim around the shoulders that complements the gilded butterflies that swarm around your head. Green and gold appear to be your signature colors, and you wear them well. Even the lighting seems to be in your favor; warm light spills behind you, highlighting the wisps of your hair.

“Oh, Mr. Lee! I was just coming out to see if you were here yet. Fei said she told you to come early.”

He thickly swallows before greeting, “Good evening, Miss L/N. You look… stunning.”

“Thank you. You look very handsome yourself. Do come in. I have something to discuss with you.”

He follows you to the main hall where the ball is to be held. The entire room is decorated like a greenhouse with vines tumbling down the walls and perfumed flowers on every surface. It is bright inside, as if the banquet hall has been bathed in sunlight. Stationary butterflies hang down from the ceiling, while steel dragonflies are strung like lights across the room. Your court members and some chaperones linger around the refreshment table, no doubt taste testing the morsels you have decided upon. Felix spots a tray of small tea cakes in the shape of leaves and makes a mental note to take a few for Mr. Han.

Upon seeing the two of you walking nearby each other, Miss Wang, your usual chaperone, lets out a theatrical gasp. “Miss L/N! Why did you not ask me to accompany you? You should know better. And on this day as well!”

“Miss Wang, no one is fooled by you. Besides, if it were to be on any day, today is the best choice,” interjects Miss Ryujin Shin, who holds a cup of punch in her hand. “After all, this is the gentleman she desires to court anyway.”

The other chaperones do not seem shocked by this revelation, presumably because they all knew already. Miss Choi and Miss Yuna Shin even clink their glasses against Miss Ryujin Shin’s in a mock toast.

“Ryujin’s right,” you agree. You turn your attention to Felix, and the room goes quiet. “I thought it would be best to ask you in person, and I know I don’t give you much time to think about it, but will you be my partner for the first dance? I meant to ask you the last time I visited, but there were a few things that had to be sorted out before I could.”

The orchestra begins rehearsing then, and the triumphant music perfectly matches how he feels. “I would be honored.”

The ball begins precisely at the hour, but guests begin allowing themselves inside a few minutes before. While you flitter about, greeting guests of importance and smiling at compliments, Felix mills around the sidelines in anticipation of the dance. He recognizes some of his customers, a couple of which say hello and show off the hats and headdresses he has designed for them. He politely engages in conversation with them before looking back at you. He does not know when the dance will begin, and he wants to be prepared for the moment.

Once he is alone again, you approach him with a secretive smile. “Are you ready?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Of course. Let the ball begin.”

He holds out his hand for you, and you lead him to the center of the dance floor. The crowd takes note of this, and their chatter dies down to murmurs. Felix overhears some of the whispers, most of which are confused questions of who exactly he is, where Lord Kim is, and why you have selected him of all people. They take in his second-rate coat and the way you gaze at him in wonder. It has to be a jest, someone nearby mumbles.

However, you are unfazed by it all. You look over to the orchestra and give them a slight nod. They stop their light, airy opening number and begin a waltz piece. The butterfly wings of your headdress beat at the same tempo, and he suppresses a chuckle at the sight.

This time, Felix holds you at a respectable distance away, not wanting to exacerbate the growing rumors. More couples join in on the floor, but most of the attention is focused on the two of you.

“Everyone is watching,” he whispers as he twirls you around.

“I am the debutante,” you reply. “And it is only natural people stare at such a handsome gentleman.”

You flirt even more shamelessly than before, not even bothering to hide your flattery behind sly words. He has still not gotten used to it, which means his burning red ears are on display for everyone. Still, he smiles. “You will be alright with this when we court?”

“Of course. Will you?”

“Of course,” he repeats. “And will you be alright with your beau being more attractive than you?”

He has never teased you before, and you laugh at his overly serious demeanor as he says it. “Mr. Lee! Well, how could I be upset with having such a striking beau, especially one with charms like yours.”

He twirls you around again and pulls you a fraction closer. “I suppose this is as good as a time as any to ask: will you, Miss L/N, allow me to court you officially?”

You completely close the gap, earning several gasps from onlookers and Felix himself as your chest presses against his. With a wide grin on your face, you say, “Mr. Lee, I will.”

It is all anyone can talk about the following day: Miss Y/N L/N of a wealthy, upper class family is set to be courted by Mr. Felix Lee, the popular mechanical hatmaker. Through the shop window, Felix can see passersby trying to get a glimpse of him inside as he works. He has to close his store for the day because of the sheer amount of people visiting and treating him like an animal at an aquarium.

By the time the sun sets, less and less people pass by. By the time the gas lamps light up the street, your carriage drives up the street and stops in front of the store. You step out in a cornflower blue gown and knock on the door. Felix has been ready for you for hours now.

“Hello, Mr. Lee,” you greet. Your excitement is palpable as you say, “Shall we go on our first walk together?”

“Good evening, Miss L/N. And to you as well, Miss Wang.”

Your chaperone follows behind the two of you, ensuring that the two of you — well, mostly you — will be proper.

“Where shall we go? Around the block for tonight?” he suggests.

“My dear Mr. Lee, I will go anywhere you wish.”

Miss Wang halfheartedly reprimands you for the term of endearment, but Felix does not mind. You share a glance with him, and he already knows you will be calling him ‘dear’ until the end of time.

He could get used to that.

~ ad.gray

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blankdblank · 3 years

Text

Brother Dearest Pt 78

Home a day early Norma exploded with anxious energy to be near her daughter who was confused to the meaning of the day, her first birthday. A cake was able to distract her mother and herself from that awkward energy for the beginning of their three day weekend together so Victor could take you to a stop at the studio to help with a possible new bout of ideas to refurbish the Cap comics. Still no one seemed to be able to come up with anything substantial except for a cross of the Howling Commandoes who would run into your animated family alongside Peggy’s alter ego. Which you all took off with that idea had came up with at least five different issues worth of them to mingle in the planned plot lines already animated and ready to be sent out when it was due to be printed. Quite gladly the guys had loved your pregnancy as now with these new ideas you had editions well through this year and into the next if anything should distract from the creative process.

Just past the hall with your last projects on display atop podiums you entered the workshop as people still milled around each choice inspecting each. Including yours which was a miniature town. Half a mine complete with a track for little carts and the other half a town encircled by a river. All of it powered by the waterwheel that moved the mechanics in the layer beneath the surface of the entire town. Streets between homes had lights on each corner with antique style lamp posts with two bulbs in them that switched colors at the filling and emptying of water tubes fed by that same wheel. Cars on tracks drove between the wooden homes to finish off the scene and impressed your Professor for how complex the mechanics were to the simplistic upper display.

Your place in the class came with questions but with ease at home in the shop the men around you relaxed at fears of tears or pestering questions to distract them. Now the main distraction came for the awe striking ways you got around the difficulties your size a half to a whole foot shorter than all of them to get things done and how naturally you knew various advanced tools and had no fear in using them. Today however you came with a spare bag of clothes that to the amusement of your classmates out of your heels you stepped and flicked unfolded at your side the trousers you brought. Pulling them on over the skirt of your dress you tucked that and the flannel you added into the top and secured the cloth belt you added next. Thick socks and your work boots came next showing much use to each press of your feet into the opposite knee to tie them and lower to repeat the step.

Unable to help it as you tucked your heels into your bag the Professor gave you a once over after having seen the others had swapped their dress shirts for thicker work shirts and as you wound your ponytail and bangs back into a bun underneath a bandana he greeted you all. “Good to see you’ve all come ready to get some grease on those elbows. We have a new project for you to finish off the summer semester. Out of solid steel each of you will be creating something that has a function. It must be a minimum of six feet tall and two feet wide, please no windmills, there will be a supply near each of your stations and in the supply room. I want you all to think long and hard about what you want to make and how you would create that function in hopefully an ingeniously new way. You will only have the time in class when we meet so no spare after class time or weekends. So manage your tasks properly and keep to a schedule as best as you can.”

His eye shifted to you as you raised your hand and he nodded your way in his usual signal to speak, “Does it have to do a job or just do something?”

Across his lips a smirk tugged and he answered, “It just has to do something, make it light up, make it move, be unique. I repeat no windmills.” He said and motioned his hand to the side for you all to head to your stations. Right away he and his aid chuckled at your usual pop up onto the counter that reached your ribs to reach the gloves and apron in your cubby assigned with your name on tape laid across the edge of it.

Sons of mechanics, car enthusiasts, electricians and builders filled the class on their way to get their Engineering degrees to join the family profession and to their amusement with your own ideas you seemed to be fairly at the same level of skill as the group who was used to building models and things since they were little. Once the spare layers were added and you had taken a few minutes to simply stare at the sheet of steel resting on the mount there to hold it upright to think of what to make. The smirk that tugged across your lips intrigued the Professor and his aid that something interesting was coming as your mind had come up with something. In the same stunning fashion your tiny self eased the sheet of metal a foot taller and two feet longer than your body off the mount and onto the cutting stand you had made the first week in for your shorter self. You knelt on top of that to use just a couple feet off the ground compared to the waist high ones the guys used with ease at possession of longer arms and legs.

With cutting torch in hand over the numerous chalk outlines the sound of metal falling echoed in your ears between sounds of the others at their own stations working with hammers or torches of their own who weren’t still on the design on notepads. Around each station the Professor moved with his aid in opposing paths to get a sense of what you all were doing, notepads in hand to make notes while students as usual stood outside the windowed wall to peer in at what you all were doing. That angle especially helped to add images of yourself and the guys for the yearbook the school had for even the summer semester as well. When the metal was spent and left to just outlines into sections you cut what remained with a smirk hidden by your face shield at the perfect alignment of metal shapes to be part of the body you required. Just one layer but as usual you strove to not waste an inch of the metal or supplies given and set those aside to begin on the mechanics.

Gears, rods, all fashioned down with sanders and buffers for a smooth finish and even on a few securing grooves to be used later to lock things into place all were wound together with or near to wires and conduits for pathways of motion. All the Professor could see but the end of the day was the sheets of metal in the cutout mount along the wall. Noted with tape to not be used for scrap by others and a clump of a motor nearly the size of your body with octopus like mess of limbs that he saw you link small switches and levers to the whirring core that after the charge from the center mechanics you had wound like a clock began to slow left no hint at all what any of it could be meant for. But that was it and for the next day he would have to simply steal glances at the chunks of your projects to try and figure out what they were meant to do until the next class when he could see some more progress on the lifeless piles of metal.

“You look excited,” Victor hummed as James took hold of your bags with a kiss on your temple.

James smirked saying to the scent of metal shards on your hair and skin, “You’ve been welding again.”

“I’m building a moose.” You said making them chuckle as you delved into the new project you had been given.

James said, “Well a moose will certainly be large enough for the size requirements. What are you going to make it do?”

“Walk and move around,” you said widening their grins. “It’ll be risky but I think I can pull it off even if I have to sneak in some magic to do it.”

“I’m certain you can, Pipsqueak.”

Ten days had gone and flew by as again before the crack of dawn tears came and the now the three spotted children showed the final steps of the chicken pox that had upheaved the household. And after a trio of oatmeal baths for 20 minutes the babies now with socks tied into their hands were put back to bed until they woke for the next round of baths and calamine lotion to soothe the itchy patches away until they were gone.

Mr Fenske again had your morning. And through the afternoon while you couldn’t work on your project you brainstormed and practically filled a notebook with diagrams and plans for what exactly to do when you got back to the shop the following day to hopefully get done with plenty of time to spare and polish the giant moose up for its big debut. Sleep wasn’t hard to gain with the rain. Though by morning said rain made it a bit difficult to want to leave your still groggy girls who barely made it through breakfast but you still did simply to get the next attendance points closer to credits to get you your Bachelor’s degrees by next summer and onto the way to your Masters then Doctorates. You made plans and in sticking to them you could only make a great example for your girls to be what they wanted to, even if it didn’t involve as much schooling as you were pushing yourself through.

Back inside the second Art History class notice of a change was evident on everyone’s faces to the lack of a model or item to focus on and the Professor’s place in the front of the floor to say when you had all arrived. “For your final projects there will be no model given to you. You will supply your own muse and in the style of a painting Master you will complete two paintings of at least 12x16 each that will center around a single memory. Something that is not well known about your life, a moment of unadulterated trust. They must be a pair and be supported by a description of the memory that you all will present at the gallery at the end of this semester where each of the pieces you have completed in every class will be displayed for others to view and comment. This is your final exam, take it seriously and do not disappoint me.”

Monet’s style seemed to be something you could adapt into whatever you decided to paint. Back to Monet’s paintings your mind wandered and in the various chosen models for each of those with people in them his main focus on landscapes had you think of something that would not be another copy of one of his works. Your brain however looped back to that brothel and onto the first sheet of your sketch pad to mock up what you would paint James with his coat over his head and cigar in hand made an amusing image with details of a plume of smoke along with the beams of light from the milky curtain coated window could make for something unique. And with it would be James in that bathtub with his boots and uniform on the floor still with hold of that cigar.

There wasn’t much of your private life you wanted to share, namely your courtship with James, but you hoped he wouldn’t mind having the back of his arms, head and shoulder blades in display for however many people would be attending this gallery showing. On major project turned to two and you just wanted to get this over with. Normally you liked your Professors but this class couldn’t come to an end soon enough even if you did get along well with those from your other courses. Basic details on the first scene with him against the door was begun on a fairly decent sized easel above the required size in a means to get what details you wanted included without compromise. Anatomy and Physiology was a welcome distraction and after Communication you were free to get back to your moose.

Once in your work layers to the side of your list of necessary parts you crouched with cutter in hand to add more body pieces to the pile to assemble later. Some you left flat while others made use of the rolling press the Professor and his aid enjoyed the glimpses of hidden strength you displayed in warping the metal to your needs, each rotation of that crank took a certain amount of strength to get the bend required. While others were slid into the other metal press that with a lever bent the sections at whatever straight angle possible with enough force. Every piece only added more mystery for how they blended together until from the mess after a bit of welding around the internal support rods and gears to work the joints properly and still be able to withstand the weight of all needed to in every movement.

With the internal mechanism and the cutting mainly done now it was easier, simply overlaying the outer shell. Carefully each leg was fashioned together and down every joint tested for smooth motion you required from the different swaying sections that while still seemed a whole piece until the motion began and every joint showed its purpose to shift and then come back to its place in smooth circular motion similar to how actual moose move in real life. Rope in hand once the supporting frame you’d worked out that looked more like axels on a car of simple rods fashioned together you stood tying a wrench to one end then looking up at the only higher form of support you had, the metal beams in the rafters. There was a pulley but the chain had snapped and it was too far up and too little used to warrant replacing it yet somehow a decade later. So this was what you were left to. One end of the rope was tied to one of the legs and with a good toss the wrench flew up and over the beam above your station to fall straightening the rope with it.

The motion and fall of the wrench helped to lift the leg a couple inches off the ground at one end and with a hold of the wrench with an easy pull the leg came upright off the ground and lured the gaze of the amused Professor at your self made pulley. Securely on the ground around the support rods, that balanced on top of a stool, the hoof was settled and with an easy loop of some twine from one of the cutouts through the holes drilled into the end of the support rod the hopeful anchor was tied with an easy to remove bow. Grip of the second front leg proved you were making a hooved creation and off your shoulder you moved the leg into perfect alignment and tied it off after a few confirming checks that it was straight.

Three legs soon grew to four and from the ground and from the leg the rope was removed to fashion like a noose around a series of hooked straps linked to the belly plate now welded to the inner mechanism that with a good firm grip what a woman your size shouldn’t be able to lift the three hundred pound motor and plate with ease was gradually lifted from the ground where you had left it to be. Once the rope was tied at the right height to the leg of your workstation it was wiggled into the right alignment to lessen the strain of the rope as each edge came to rest perfectly in the connecting mounts.

Both bolted and welded down into place the security was tested amusingly for those who looked over at your grips on each leg and end of the lower half of the body to give it several firm shakes to test the stability of everything with mental checks of how it felt to ensure it wouldn’t collapse or move in a way that anything would get locked up. Down the legs the mechanics were lowered and using long necked allen wrenches you secured the screws into place before you began to work the body frame up for the sides and back with a start on the neck mount to go around the support rod from the belly mount that the mechanics there were anchored to.

The basic shape of the head came to life and atop that came antlers that rather uniquely was where the controls there was mounted underneath to be closer to the ears that it would control. Kneeling atop the workstation that you merely used to house the next part up or the tools needed the head came to life widening the grins on the faces of the Professor and his aid. Both who were beyond amused at the creature you had chosen. Amongst the other students who chose things from a giant nutcracker to a mechanical hammer wielding figure that did little else than lift and lower said hammer opposite the rotating carousels and even a tree with branches that wiggled and could be used to hold items on the trays welded atop them you had chosen the boldest design. And the most curious. Surely you had to have something up your sleeve, there had to be more to the moose than what they were able to see.

“Well, well, well, it would appear you all are getting along swimmingly in just two days.” The Professor stated as you all began to clean up for the day, including yourself who accepted help from another taller student to cover your moose with a sheet as others had done for their own projects. Turned around when you released the end of the sheet in your hands you looked the Professor over seeing that he was clearly up to something with that spreading smirk of his. “And when we meet again you will find a fresh supply of sheet metal at each of your work stations. Those supplies will be pertinent in creating a second miniature partner of what you have already produced. Four feet tall and one foot wide minimum. It does not have to be an exact copy but it does have to be related to the initial creation.”

Groans from the guys however were muddled by giggles from yourself in a momentary rest of your head against the side of your moose out of the sheer amount of work that would have to go into making a second moose from scratch the next day you would be in this class. The day was over for you at least and when you got home you could focus on your girls again and simply leave the planning to the weekend while they napped for a game plan to get the ball rolling on a baby moose. Need for a good meal and a nap read across your face and had James ask, “Who am I punching?”

In a giggle you shook your head and melted into his offered hug. “I have to make a second moose.”

The pair chuckled and when James took hold of your things Victor gave you his own hug and he hummed, “We stole a glimpse at your moose. Well done. Have to be the same size?”

“Half the size of it. It doesn’t have to be a moose, just has to be related but the only thing my brain can think of moose related is moose.” The pair smirked and you said, “We’ve just got two more classes until semester is over and we have to present things.” You glanced up at James, “I can paint you in the tub, right?” That had an awkward grin split across his face and you said, “We have to paint a memory, I picked at the brothel that one time. But you won’t mind?”

“You can paint me however you like, Darling,” he said leaning in to steal a quick kiss. “I look forward to seeing it.”

“Two its, so I have to paint two paintings and build two moose. Then show them in presentations.”

Victor smiled asking, “Do we get to keep the moose?”

“I don’t know,” you answered in a giggle. “I don’t know what they expect them to be used for or if they will want us to destroy them.”

“We are not destroying your moose,” they both said.

Victor, “We’re gonna find the perfect spot for them in our home. Do we get your art too after the gallery or do they expect people to buy them?”

“I think so. We have to share a story for the paintings but I’m not sure if they sell them off, there hasn’t been any talk of that so far.”

Victor, “Hopefully we get to keep those too. And we have cake at home.” He said making you grin up at him, “Petal’s spots are gone. Herc’s giving her a full workup along with the triplets.”

You glanced at James who said, “Belly time tests, they’re doing well, necks are nice and strong, arms show signs that they are almost ready to roll over.”

“At least I haven’t missed that yet.”

James chuckled letting you into the car to sit between them saying, “Well you missed a hell of a tantrum from Teddy.”

“Aww,” you said and they both chuckled.

“He needed a nap. Just got too overwhelmed after his last bath and took a good seven minutes to climb down from that mountain. He has a set of lungs on him that boy. Dawn held firm but Eddie had to take a walk.”

“He always hated it when kids cry. Mama Brock used to joke he’d hate the terrible two’s, but so far he has been a little angel.”

“He has,” Victor hummed. “He calmed down and apologized for throwing his toy. Then said he just wanted to go to sleep and didn’t want to have his check up until after.”

“Well I’ve been on the edge of tears from a check up myself.”

James chuckled, “We all empathize, he spent most of last night up with those baths and calamine lotion applications. Even Eddie needed a nap. Dawn’s mom came over to watch him and Marigold for a bit so they could breathe. It does seem they are all in the clear.”

Tummy time was the beginning of your days off and as the trio of girls exercised their heads, necks and arms smiles spread at your nodding off on top of the quilt for a nap that afterwards gave you enough energy to delve into those plans of yours. Alone once the triplets had been put to bed a stolen grip of James’ hands had his smile spread then melt away in the ease of his hands behind your back to lean in and accept the kiss you rose up on your toes to claim. Up from his jaws into his hair your fingers worked in a blind tug to bed as you mentally closed the doors to the room his body followed you to the bed.

Three months had blew by and nearing the end of the summer for the first time since before your belly had begun to grow lost to muffled giggles and broken smile laced utterances of adoration fixed firm in your arms he remained. All night he refused to pull back and break the hold you had on him to savor the romantic return to amorous evenings that were mutually focused. Months you had focused on him as he held himself back to keep you safe and when he had ensured he had pulled on his pants and eased his shirt over you into his arms your body nestled to drop off to sleep. Safe in his arms to whirling dreams as he savored the mixture of his scent and that of his wife’s to the burrow of his forehead into the top of your head. That mixture that while you were in school he could catch hints of on those three girls that by the day improved leaps and bounds to one day be independent little people who would shake up his days to keep them all safe and content.

Herc already had shared that Beserkers never had babies back to back and genetically there would be little chance to conceive before the girls were two years old. Yet that doubt still lingered and pretending as if the same methods of the pill and sleeves that had failed to keep you from conceiving the triplets those methods were picked up again as a sort of call for hope that they might be able to find that goal of two years true before another baby or babies could be arriving. It was just one more year and you would be on the way to graduate studies to do with as you pleased. Seven years wouldn’t be that long for an entire estimate of time to earn them, and there were so many years after that could be quite indescribable for how many possibilities there were with freedom of no school to shuffle between. Even traveling the world could be possible any time you wished if that was what you wanted. He didn’t care as long as you were together and could end each day in one another’s arms.

Following final exams with Mr Yarbrough for your History, Geography and Religion courses at home Tuesday again brought on the next to last time you would be on campus. Both your paintings had greater detail and fed into a successful task of carrying out the beginnings of your smaller moose. Thanks to the ample planning the internal mechanism and basic body shape was fashioned on a smaller pallet beside its larger parent. Mother and child as you had intended now was swapped for father and child due to the antlers that were needed to help counter balance the body’s movements.

Followed by a long session with Mr Fenske to take the final exams for your Economics, Government, Political Science and Anthropology on Wednesday the rest of the summer here in Canada would be far simpler as the courses here were in their final week.

On Thursday more exams however would be waiting for you. Art History came first and was a lengthy exam that let you out a bit early to head for your next Art class and mentally prep the plan for the finishing touches on the paintings. Anatomy and Physiology came next for another complex exam you felt a bit anxious for how you might fare on the few essay questions at the end. Communication came last before your final class that held you from freedom with a hefty exam of its own. And when that let out past freed students rushing to savor the end of their own summers with your classmates you walked to head for your Engineering course.

Once there the same Professor who seemed excited to watch the second sculptures come to life began this final class by his posture alone had the guys around you mutter, “No.”

The word making him chuckle and smooth his palms together. “I have one final requirement one final sculpture that is a foot tall or less to go with the previous two.”

Unable to help it you let out an exasperated giggle and hung your head to smooth a hand over the back of your neck for a pose that had one of the guys tease, “Come on Bunny, you can break out another moose.”

Which had his friend say, “Just a tiny one.”

After another giggle you answered, “I am not making another moose.”

Your eyes shifted to the Professor who said, “All your supplies are at your station and in the store room. Good luck.”

At the tall station you stood tapping your pencil to the notepad you had doodled up a few choices and decided on something a bit wild. Gears were the first to be cut again and the inner mechanics were worked out with the bodies to follow. An absurdly large duck was crafted and behind it on wheels that tiny feet were faked to rotate around each rotation and a mechanical chain three ducklings would follow after their mother that would waddle around to the command of the controller you had fashioned at the end of a long string of wires to connect to the inner mechanism.

You weren’t the only one adding smaller details in hopes to not be asked for more to add for the final grading. Each project that spread his proud grin for this latest batch of students who showed promise if they continued this field. All together when the final touches were completed every student cleaned up the stations and made certain all the projects on their pallets were coated with sheets to keep them protected for the following day when they would all be shown for all who chose to come.

Early home amongst the rest of your siblings and Erik Norma smiled widely in a stroll through the projects that lined a vast courtyard and surrounding halls the Professors took a stroll through to inspect each piece and took note son how they all worked. Out of sight the empty slot with a metal stand bearing a card with your name on it amongst your classmates’ steadily filling slots there was no trace of you, however Stark and Mr Jarvis both stood waiting for one. Both who smiled and greeted your family promising to be at the painting gallery show as well the following day.

“Ooh, there’s Pipsqueak,” Victor said in a turn after catching sight of you in your mint sleeveless sundress down an empty hall with a pair of men behind you who were pulling two pallets on raised jacks. Smiles spread in curiosity at notice of the familiar silhouette of moose antlers under the larger sheet. Right up next to one another the pallets were lowered and with a bit of help the sheets were removed enabling Stark to move closer and inspect the internal parts as best he could to guess what they could do. The task that had him locate the switches on the side he only got a smirk from you in response of his gesture their way while you listened to James and Erik in proud boasting of what you had built.

When the group of judges did arrive they each looked the trio of creations over and your Professor said, “Now, Mrs Howlett, if you wouldn’t mind.” Eyes watched as you moved a sheet of metal that was forged into a long ramp that had gone unnoticed and was hiding a trio of crank keys shaped like drills for ice fishing that had an outer handle to keep it steady and an internal one to rotate the tip, the largest of which you lifted. Over to the shoulder of the largest moose you inserted the tip into the key hole there and like a clock wound the mechanism until it wouldn’t wind anymore then removed the crank to stun those looking on at the sound of clanks and a growing hum as it powered up readying for movement. The smaller four foot baby moose was cranked next followed by the duck that with a simple flick of the switch started the chuckle luring first step on the pallet.

Back around the baby moose you moved having flicked the switch on its side as you did that on the larger one that turned heads when the front and back left legs lifted to start walking. Open mouthed the crowd looked on as you guided the larger two statues off the pallets to enter the cleared path on the courtyard. Simple toggles of switches had the heads move to turn the pair and another to wiggle the ears.

“Oh my,” one of the judges stated looking in awe over the functioning moose duo that around you as the duck led its ducklings around the path you followed to circle the nearby fountain.

“She made functioning robots…” Howard muttered to himself and glanced at Jarvis only to look back at the sound of the gears slowing down causing the outer plates shifting around the moving joints, back and limb until the pair began to come to a stop as the duck continued to wander around a few moments more.

“How…?” another Professor spoke and you answered, “Well there’s no battery, just crank powered. Since it’s made of hundreds of pounds of solid steel it doesn’t run very long, but I was inspired by Grandfather Clocks.” Another crank of the animals was called for so they could get to test the switches and get closer looks at the moving components inside until the group had to move on and simply the animals were up to being photographed some more back on their pallets that when the demonstration was through were loaded onto the trailer the guys had borrowed from a neighbor to bring the animals home. At least there you and Erik could make them work much longer and improve upon the designs at your whims to at least make the ducks run longer for the older children to play with. And when he sat down for lunch while you started to nurse your girls he asked, “And just how long did they give you to build those?”

The following morning wasn’t free of any nerves as the duo were amongst the hundreds who came to this museum sized gallery that had been chosen. Different days the gallery would be filled with each class the Professor instructed and today following the order of how your easels had been lined up you got a few peeks at the other student’s pieces until you found yours in the last section opposite the young woman’s artwork on display. Soon the numbers began to grow and while you tried to answer as many questions on they style as possible you couldn’t ignore the number of cameras being snuck in by those Eddie could tell were from papers throughout Canada. Chatter however in the distance had grown and waned in the path of a particular group.

Salvador Dali, Hemingway, T.S Eliot on a working vacation of sorts had made a stop here today having read about the show in the paper. More than a few pieces inspired by the famed painter got ample comments until saved for last the Professor slid into the room listening to their impressions of each students’ sketches and paintings. Every story shared of the final paintings were noted down and quietly you listened yourself as the other young woman opposite you spoke hers then listened to comments and was freed herself. Finally the crowd who had waited around stood in wait as the group asked you about each sketch that seemed to be more impressive than the last at the varied tries of each style. Including a sketch that was in Dali’s style that made him grin your way, “I just may have to convince you to sell me this one.”

The grin that eased across your face shifted to Hemmingway in his asking about your portraits, “You painted a soldier? Was the roof leaking, that why he’s hiding his head?”

Softly you chuckled and answered, “These are my husband James.” That turned his gaze to you a moment then back to the portrait as you said, “When we were in Europe we made more than a few stops in brothels along the way. This one James got stuck babysitting me and when he found a tub in our hotel next door we could take turns in a few of the guys came upstairs and there wasn’t a lock. So he sat against the door with his coat over his head in my turn, and while I dried and combed my hair he took his own turn.”

Elliot chuckled and said, “It is a striking memory to capture on an easel.”

The Professor asked as Hemmingway moved a bit closer as if to decipher which brothel neighboring a hotel this was, “You stopped in brothels often?”

“No secret men at war crave companionship. Most of the time when we crossed paths with other platoons their men were too distracted by the brothel to notice I was there.”

Hemmingway stated, “Must have been a harrowing trial in your lifetime to be thrown into war so young. We are all amply fortunate you do not exude grimmer angles of those experiences outside of what you publish in your comics.”

A statement which had your Professor state, “Those are fiction.”

A statement that had the author who had been there himself including your arrival at Normandy say, “No, they are not. Saw more than one Battle Bunny and Venom freed city myself. Every issue rings far truer than some might claim to believe.” His eyes locked on you and he said, “I have seen you tear planes from the sky and machine guns from those hill hidden bunkers. To not have chosen to show that is great courage to bear what you have on your heart rather than your wrist.”

Dali said, “And the care you have taken of these shoulder blades, no detail of his strength missed. Bold choice. A show of relaxation and hunched focus and tension, excellent contrast.” Around your back James folded as the Professor gave his own comments and took notes on his way to make another round of everyone’s art to hear what newly arrived people were saying. The artist when he was gone crept closer to your side making you smile as he said, “Do not mind his opinion. You have captured Monet’s style with ease and respect to his technique.”

A lunch after when the works were boxed up and taken to be locked in the trunks of your cars with the famous faces was highly documented. Including the signing of the sketch you passed over to Dali and the ones that Elliot and Hemmingway chose for their own collections to leave you the ones you preferred to your own tastes and the pair you had painted of James.

No shortage of people had claims of having met you and gotten signatures and moments to speak with you on various subjects slipped in between more thoughts on your work. These pieces of art gave way to more as riding on the tails of this showing of your artistic skills like that for Kodak before led into the release of your second photography book that exceeded the sales of the first and had four signings in Canada with two settled for when you would get back to New York just like the last time. Stops that would distract you until you would receive copies of your transcript to take back with you to Barnard on how you scored in your summer courses.

Pt 79

All –

@sherala007, @mariannetora, @jesgisborne, @knitastically, @catthefearless, @theincaprincess, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000, @alishlieb,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore

X Marvel-Cast - @himoverflowers, @theincaprincess

Brother Dearest - @thorinanddwalinsdwarrowdam, @swoopswishsward

#James Howlett x OC #Victor Creed x Norma Jeane #Eddie Brock x OC #End of Summer Courses #Final Projects #Famous Faces

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statticscribbles · 3 years

Text

Puppy

Summary: Reggie/Reader Request: Reggie avoids you because he overhears you talk to Kevin about your perfect guy (comic book character) so as he’s avoiding you, you keep trying to get his attention, and finally you end up kissing him cause he’s just pining after you like lovesick puppy; after the confession and when you start dating the “lovesick puppy act” gets worse

“Kevin I’m being serious!” You smack his arm as he laughs. “No it’s just funny he doesn’t seem like the type you’d go for.” “And what do you know about my type.” You laugh with him and he smirks. “Reggie, what would you say Y/N’s type it?” You can see Reggie frown before shaking it off. “Tall, dark haired, plays football.” He winks and you smile at him. “Wow that’s so off model it’s kind of sad.” Kevin nods solemnly and you smack his arm again. “You do have to admit it though, I mean the muscles, and the hair, plus have you seen him wearing a shirt? He practically never does!” “That’s sort of the point you know that right, not wearing a shirt to attract the ladies, you included apparently.” Kevin smirks and you scowl watching Reggie almost storming out.

“I’m guessing Reggie’s not a fan of the reboot then?” You chew your lip. “You think he knew we were talking about the newest edition? I mean we’ve talked about the second volume for months so-“ “I don’t think he cares about what I talk about, you on the other hand.” “Kev, he doesn’t care about comics half as much as you do, let alone me; how much do you think he thought I was talking about a real person.” “I mean inability to keep a shirt on just screams Sweet Pea, you know that right?” “Dammit; now I have to go find him to explain don’t I.” “It works out perfectly you explain your crush to him.” “My crush on-“ “On Reggie, not that paper cutout you have in your room.” You roll your eyes and run after where you think Reggie is.

You weren’t able to find him before science but you know having to sit next to him will at least give you an excuse to explain the comic book misunderstanding. You frown when he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t talk to you. You’re stuck doing busy work since your actual teacher is out; so the chance to talk goes out the window until lunch at the earliest; since you don’t share any other classes with him. You pass him in the hallway and wave and you can tell he makes a point to turn his head away. You try to brush it off, concocting reasons for his sudden change in attitude. You complain to Kevin during math and he just laughs at your ridiculous theories. “Oh yeah, and what do you think has a stick up his ass so bad?” “He likes you; it’s why he’s so bothered by your crush you realize that right?” “Kevin that’s ridiculous; he’s Reggie freaking Mantle, he can have anyone in the school; why would he want me?” “Do you want the list alphabetically or by popularity?”

“Popularity?” “You’re a River Vixen, you’re into those weird old books that he doesn’t admit he likes; since you’re a River Vixen you have a great figure, you know how to dance, you like Pop’s.” “Kev it’s Riverdale, everyone likes Pop’s. That one doesn’t count.” “You know you two order the same thing, every time right?” “No we don’t; do we?” he laughs nodding as you make your way to lunch. “Hey Reggie” Kevin nods to him and he looks up, turning slightly away from you to focus on Kevin. “Yeah?” “What’s your standing Pop’s order.” “Burger wise or in general?”

“Isn’t the burger in general, or do you order something we don’t know about?” “You thinking about making a run down to Pop’s cause I know pretty much everyone would kill for that.” He grins and Kevin smirks. “Yeah, you wanna help me carry shit? Meet by your car in five?” Reggie nods vanishing to the parking lot and Kevin grins. “So I want a cheeseburger, extra onions and-“ “Kev why are you- No, no he’s been avoiding me all day!! I’m not going to sit with him to get Pop’s!” “You’re getting Pop’s?” You cringe at Archie and Jughead’s hovering. “Yeah, write down what you want.” You scowl holding out a spare piece of paper.

“Reggie, Kevin asked if I could go instead, he has theatre stuff to; okay.” You sigh as he opens the door silently walking around to the drivers seat. You’re silent the entire car ride, trying to start conversation but the lack of even a glance your way keeps you quiet. Reggie doesn’t say anything just holding his hand out so you stop getting out of the car. “Wait.” He says it more to the car than to you and you huff, grumbling under your breath as he pulls the list from where you set it in the cupholder. He appears moments later. “What do you want?” You decide to give him a taste of the silent treatment and point to your order you’d written. “That’s mine.” He clarifies and you point to it again glaring. ‘So you want the same thing as me?”You nod and he laughs dryly. “Won’t even talk to me great.” “Say’s the one.” You hiss and he glares openly at you.

“Well I’m not the one with a crush on someone they can’t have now am I? So who’s the real loser.” “You.” He groans and slams the door retreating back into Pop’s to order and wait for the food. You watch from the car window as he pulls the bags towards himself, you lean towards the door, opening it and walking through. “Let me help.” He doesn’t say anything sliding two of the bags towards you. He silent until you put the food in the backseat. You buckle your seatbelt waiting for him to start the car. “Listen I don’t care about whoever you have a crush on. Just making that clear.” You sigh looking up to the ceiling of the car. “Me you mean, you don’t care about me.” “Who said that?” “You did, or rather didn’t; I’ve been trying to get your attention all day to explain.” “Explain what?” “Comic books.”

“Is that code for something? Or slang for you wanting some Jangle? Cause I don’t sell; what I get is my own-“ “Kevin and I, we were talking about comic books earlier.” “Oh good for you?” “That crush isn’t on a real person.” “Oh well alright then; once again good for you. So there are other crushes?” He questions glaring slightly; you realize he didn’t want to actually talk with you. You don’t respond as he drives back to school. “Grab the food?” You ask as he stays unmoving in the car; he must catch you rolling your eyes with how he scoffs. “What? I’m going to grab the damn food.” He snaps.

“Yikes, there’s no need to be in such a pissy mood, I get you’re hungry but-“ “I’m in a pissy mood cause you’ve been avoiding me for the entire day!” “I’ve been avoiding you? I’ve been trying to get your attention since you stormed off after the crush misunderstanding!” You scowl as he shoves the other bag of food towards you. “I can avoid whoever I want regardless of how I actually feel about you.” You snap at him. “You feel differently than avoidance about me? Hard to believe; but at least you admit you were avoiding me.” You laugh shaking your head.

“The only reason I’m admitting it is so you won’t complain for the next week about how much of a bitch I’m being.” Reggie sets the food on the hood of his car leaning over you. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” He hisses about to pull the food back over when you tug on his arm. “Reggie.” Your voice is soft and you can tell he’s confused but you’re relieved as you pull yourself towards him. You’re quick about pressing your lips to his, intent on kissing him and bringing everyone their food so he doesn’t get the chance to ask you about it.

It works and as you shove Jughead’s burger into his hands you scowl when you realize your order was packed with Reggie’s. You’re about to turn around to look for him surprised to find the burger and extra fries sitting at the spot on the table you’ve claimed. “Oh thank you.” You say more toward the general table but jump slightly when Reggie’s arm lays on your shoulder. “No problem.” He seems relaxed as you sit down, he sits next to you and you cast a look to Kevin who nods, you’re thankful he’ll be able to talk later. “These are yours.” You nod to the fries and he shakes his head. “Don’t want them.” “You don’t want the cheese fries you ordered?” “Not in the mood for them anymore.” You smile pulling them closer. “You’re welcome to them, since they are yours.” He nods relaxing slightly settling closer to you as he sits.

You sigh when the bell rings, standing to grab your bag confused when Reggie hands it to you. Kevin appears, walking with you to English. “So what was that about?” He mumbles as your teacher finishes the lesson for the day. “We kissed.” “So you just skipped confessing your crush then?” He laughs and you join him. “I guess I did; we’re probably going to have to talk later.” “You better, I’m not letting you get away with not confessing to him. I don’t think he’s going to either.” He nods and you smile confused as Reggie stands at the door smirking. “Can I walk you home?” “You have a car.”

“Walk sounds better.” You arch an eyebrow. “How is walking better than you being able to drive your car?” Kevin nods as he leaves and you walk towards the door. “Well like this.” He steps to the side, slightly closer, his hand grasping yours. “You don’t want to drive because you can’t hold my hand?” You watch a blush creep onto his face. “Maybe.”

“You know you can hold my hand while you’re driving.” “I didn’t want to assume anything.” “Well we kissed, and I do have a crush on you.”’ “So you do have a type?” He straightens up beaming; and you laugh. “Yeah, you were right about the tall dark haired footballers. AKA you.” You wink and he laughs. “Do you want to go out sometime.” “Besides this?” You nudge him and he shakes his head. “This isn’t going out, I’m walking you home.” “From being out, together.” “School doesn’t count as a date.” He counters and you rolls your eyes. “Well you’ll just have to plan a date then.” He nods eagerly and you smile as he reaches your door.

You’d been dating Reggie for a week and Kevin is constantly pointing out how much Reggie’s acting like a puppy. “Kev, it’s not a thing, you’re exaggerating.” “Point proven, look.” You’re standing behind him so you know Reggie can’t see you but you can see him. He’s laughing with the rest of the Bulldogs and nods to Kevin; you watch as Kevin moves, and Reggie’s face softens and he smiles excitedly.

“Babe!” He moves from the rest of the bulldogs pulling you into a hug. “Oh my god he’s right.” “Who’s right?” Reggie pulls back slightly and you shake your head. “I’ll tell you later, we’re still on for Pop’s after the game right?” He nods leaning down to kiss you. “Of course, it’s tradition.” “This is the first time we’re doing it.” “And after it’s tradition.”

Support My Writing?

#reggie mantle #reggie mantle reader insert #reggie mantle request #reggie mantle x you #reggie mantle x y/n #reggie mantle x reader #riverdale #riverdale reader insert #riverdale request #stattic

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nonobadcat · 3 years

Text

Dedicated to Miss_Mystery3

(had to reupload to make the tags)

Multichapter: Yandere Mr. Compress X Female Reader

Rating: Minors DNI - for 18+ readers only

TW for this story: A consensual relationship that devolves into non-con. Breeding, unplanned pregnancy, stalking, toxic friendship.

Read the entire story at Archive of Our Own

Chapter 5 Excerpt:

The sights Mr. Compress could see from within the marble were both limited and impressive. He was jostled back and forth amongst the underwear and sweatshirts; the open zipper above him revealed large sunlit windows, white coffered ceilings with gilded inlays, crystal chandeliers (plural), and gold leaf accents. The marble staircase was wider than many of the tiny streets around your apartment. When the maid set the bag down for a moment he caught sight of not one but two Steinway Model D concert grand pianos. OH! Was that an original Monet?

“She wasn’t kidding when she said Yumiko had everything,” Compress murmured to himself, checking the recording app on his phone. A red light blinked on the screen confirmed it was active. “Harima Oji would have loved this place.”

As the maid neared the end of the hall, she gave two quick raps on a large wooden door. The frame was encrusted in tendrils of carved roses like the gate to a Rococo palace. He half expected it to open to Marie Antoinette’s bedroom.

“Mistress,” the maid called with a deferential bow. “I brought your friend’s belongings as you requested.”

The door opened to reveal a cream and gold bedroom with pastel blue walls. The tray ceiling had a circular cutout around a dazzling chandelier shaped like a chrysanthemum flower. The crown molding had more of the rose gliding spiraling down the walls as the plants had come to life. The whole room glowed with the warmth of a sunny Sunday afternoon. It was like being inside a creampuff.

“Set it over there, Kiyomi.”

With a nod of her head, the maid obeyed and lay the bag gently on the plush carpet. “When will you be leaving to join her?”

“Tomorrow,” replied the other woman. “I want to make sure matters are settled here first.” There was a pause. “Did you bring her swimsuit?”

“Of course,” Kiyomi answered. “But it is rather old…”

There was a snort of amusement. “Then go get her a new one. Since you saw her bedroom and closet I’m sure you can guess at her favorite colors.” Compress saw a long, slender hand wave in a shooing motion. “You’re dismissed.”

“Of course, Mistress.” With one more bow, the maid retreated from the room and closed the heavy wooden door behind her with a click.

Once the maid was out of sight, there was the creaking noise of a chair being abandoned. The top of the bag unzipped and long milk tea brown hair spilled into view. The delicate hand from before tucked the loose locks behind an ear and Compress finally caught sight of a not so surprising face. Long lacquered lashes, doe brown eyes and a heart-shaped visage matched all the images he’d ever seen of Harada Yumiko standing beside you. Even with wrinkles starting to tug at the corner of her eyes, she was just as stunning as she had looked in your high school graduation pictures.

Yumiko rifled through the neatly packed clothing, tossing things helter-skelter behind her as she clawed her way to the bottom of the bag. Each piece got an equally disgusted sneer until she stumbled upon a pair of flowery lace and satin purple intimates that Atsuhiro had “acquired” for you for your one-month anniversary.

“L’ge?” she cocked her head. “You never buy fancy stuff like this. Guess this was from the boyfriend.” As she looked at the ornate panties a twisted smile broke on her lips. “How silly of me. Ex-boyfriend.”

Compress bristled at those words.

Read the rest at: Archive of Our Own

#mr compress #atsuhiro sako #mr compress x reader #sako atsuhiro x reader #bnha x reader #female reader #yandere #yandere mr compress #yandere atsuhiro sako #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #mha x reader #mha x you #bnha x y/n

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thereturnofthedirtyblog · 4 years

Text

When you pull into the parking lot, the first thing you're greeted with is a sign stating that masks are required beyond that point. The new starting queue is now in the lot itself, with security asking you to line up (distanced of course) near the gift shop exit and the new expansion construction. They ask for your reservation time and name and double check on IPads. A group that was there that did not book ahead were turned away, so remember to buy in advance.

One quick note: The new building next door is NOT going to be part of the tour or for the public. It's going to be offices and meeting spaces. I asked, and Angry Joe provided the answer.

You'll then be moved to the main queue down the side of the building in groups of six. Good news, there's now benches along the side so you can sit and relax. Then you hit the main queue in the front, and then move to the ticketing room, all socially distanced. None of this process is really changed. I have to say, from arrival time to the oddities room, it was MAYBE 30 minutes. Much improved. I will note that RIP and regular tours are not separated, and all go as one. RIP members will be wearing the lanyard and badge to distinguish them, which you'll get from the ticket window.

You'll self guide to the front door from the gate at the parking lot. The oddities room has some changes, with the skull case gone, also Lily (we'll get to that later), to allow distancing. I have to say, it works WONDERFULLY. Every room has 3 red dots, and you rotate as you go, which finally allows you to be able to see everything in every room. This was a very, VERY welcome change.

The first RIP moment is the haunted doll room in the back left corner. You're free to walk around inside, and they do give you ample time to look around, several minutes or so. Right off the bat, the people who didn't opt for RIP complained that they couldn't go in, but that was to be expected, I guess.

Off to the gambling room. Completely different, and entirely for the better. It was always my personal least favorite. The roulette table is gone for distancing purposes, and the relics are all in cases near the red dots, and new art on the walls. Drastic improvement, with new items added such as a new skull, a "mystery gun", and other ephemera.

The Oddfellows room now has the caskets moved to the dead center of the room, and the side wall now hosts the 13 skulls (now on shelves in the open) that were originally in the Oddities room. You move around the caskets, while a new pre-recorded message from Zak plays. The second RIP portion occurs here, where you're giving the option to crawl through the small door in the back corner. This leads you into the marionette room, and you'll rejoin the non RIP part of the tour in the art gallery.

The art gallery has no changes at all, same with the Kervorkian rooms, only the added distancing dots. On to the muderabillia room, where they've added Ted Bundy's murder bag, ski mask, and other items. The booking chair is now in the Manson room, along with a new Alcatraz display, which takes the place of the Santa Claus Killer's old area. A new cell door display sits where the chair was. Dots are one in the Manson room, one in front of Bundy, and one in front of the Gacy display, and you rotate every few minutes.

This then leads to the next, and most welcome I'm sure, part of the RIP tour. The Basement. You watch a short video of Zak explaining how Jenna Jameson contacted him about it, and they show proof of how her family lived there in the 70's via her brother's birth certificate listing the museum’s address on it. The basement is self guided, very dark, and leads to the alter in the back. The pentagram appears to have been removed from the floor (it's VERY dark, and I looked and flat out didn't see it). In its place is a small seance table and chairs. Very nice to finally see this area.

When you come out, the non-RIP members are already moved to the Gein room, as the basement leads directly to another RIP room. To the left in the little cut out is a room of wax heads originally in the Winchester Mystery house. Small, tight quarters here, but a nice addition.

You then join back with the main group in Gein. No differences outside a new display of human skin leather on the left hand side wall.

On to Zak's study. This is now completely accessible, and it's awesome to really be in the space itself. This is Lily's new home, as well as a new doll, which they called the "Concentration Camp Doll". It's made from actual uniforms from the camps. Murder Doll and the skull are the other items featured. The curiosity cabinet is not really a feature anymore, they just say take a look as you're walking by and offer no explanation of the items inside.

The Dead Celebrity room has one new addition, in being that the Liberace piano is gone, and has been replaced by a bust of John Hurt's cast from the Elephant Man. The Gidget Gein art piece is also gone. The What Dreams May Come coat is now wall mounted to allow distancing space.

On to the seance room, where the circus cart and table have been removed, and the room is entirely open. Here is one of my FAVORITE new parts of the museum. Don't forget to look up. The ceiling is now 100% modeled VERY well after the Haunted Mansion elevator in Disneyland. A very nice touch.

Circus room is the same, and on to the sideshow room. New additions here are a case of real human parts, including an entire pickled human head of one of the world's smallest people. It looks like a baby's head, but is fully grown. John Shaw does his show, excellent as always.

The next RIP feature is the Gypsy Wagon. The other part of the group proceeds on to the funhouse. No, you do not go to the crawlspace Aaron was in, but you look through a cutout into the area from inside the wagon, with some ghost hunting equipment attached to the window sil that reacts when you wave your hands over them. John takes you through all of it, and again, he has this down better than most of the guides do. His area is always a favorite just for his presence, alone.

The funhouse and following room are the same. Next, the RIP part continues, with the Bob Berdella room, which is now entirely RIP tour only. After that, straight to the Dybbuk Box, where the rest of the group has been waiting, for quite a bit, it seemed. No changes here other than the guide speaks from the other side of the cut out in the door to allow distancing.

Peggy is up next, and the room is now a walkthrough. You can get right up to the case and look her in the eyes (well, I did anyways). The spirit box is gone, and a new full speech device is added. It was gibberish when we went through, but is suppoosed to make coherent sentences when Peggy wishes to speak.

The witches head has no changes. Back downstairs to the Devil's Rocking Chair, which has the last RIP moment. The room is exactly the same, just the RIP tour can go behind the railing into a roped off area and get really close to the chair itself.

The last three rooms, Natalie Wood/Titanic, Lee Sober Shapiro and Demon House, are now self guided, where they let groups of two into each one. It was nice to see Demon House without being crammed with 15 other people. The shutters and video are now automated, which the guide expressed great relief with.

Once concluded, you exit through the gift shop directly from the Seance Room. The doorway leads to a new room which used to be half of the gift shop, but now contains set pieces from the Jack Black movie The House With A Clock In It's Walls. Very nice looking pieces for sure.

The gift shop is just one room now, where they let you in by threes. This is where you'll get the shirt that comes with the tour.

This was my 13th tour, and I have to say, it was the best. The new distancing measures help every single aspect of the museum. It cut off wait times entirely. I'm used to at least an hour to three waiting outside, and this made them almost entirely non-existent. The rotation and space inside the rooms really does ensure you get to see everything without being crowded, and it's back to almost a single guide model, with the hand off being at the swinging bookshelf for the second tour guide.

I was beyond impressed. Zak and his team really made the most of the horrible Covid-19 situation, and made the museum a safe and better experience out of it. I can't recommend the new tour enough. Well worth the money and time, and I honestly hope that long after this situation is over, they keep a lot of the changes made, because it's a better experience overall from them.

#anonymous #zakbagans #dirtyblog #zak bagans #ghostadventures #ghost adventures #thedirtyblog #dirty blog #the dirty blog #[email protected]#aarongoodwin #zak bagans haunted museum #zakbaganshauntedmuseum

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romaniassexdungeon · 4 years

Text

Shattered Romanticism of a God - chapter 13

Pairings: SuFin, NedDen

Warnings: swearing,

Wow, six months without uploading, I update twice in one day.

Read on AO3

...

Tino was going to destroy everyone he loved and held dear and spit on their graves, for they meant nothing to him that day. He was going to laugh as they fell, one by one, to his superior sniper skills. The snow around them would be stained red. And green. And maybe purple too. They would all beg for mercy and receive none. Yes, even Berwald, if he crossed him. No one would stand in his way and succeed.

He half-listened to the instructor, knowing full well how to play paintball. He checked his outfit, his armour vest pinching underneath his uniform. His helmet was still on the bench, for now. Berwald was standing next to him, putting on his gloves. There were a few rounds, throughout the day, with different objectives. Defending places, raiding places, all as a team. That was why everyone had planned this day out: team building. What he was most looking forward to was a hunger games where everyone was against everyone.

He was going to win that if it fucking killed him. There was no "I" in team, but there was one in sniper.

Eduard said he was too competitive, and that was why he never joined in with anything involving Tino. Especially Tino and guns and teams. He wasn’t even after the prizes, just the glory of winning. Maybe there was a darker, psychological element to it, about how his dad would constantly push him to be the best at “manly” things, but Tino didn’t like thinking about that. He preferred to call being so competitive it took the fun out of things for everyone just one of his “quirks”.

The first event was a simple two-person team game, with the last duo standing declared the winners. Of course, he and Berwald were going to be a team. And they were going to win.

He finished getting dressed, and the instructor finished explaining the safety procedures. The group were all led out of the tent and given directions to their starting positions. Soon enough, Tino and Berwald were alone, crouched behind a bush. Uncomfortably close. Or comfortably, as long as Tino didn’t pop a woody.

There were still a few minutes before the starting klaxon would sound, so he decided to familiarise himself with his surroundings. Every advantage counted here. The area looked fun, woodland made of tall, straight, evergreen trees and patches of grass. The forest floor was covered in pine needles, stretching as far as they could see. He’d have to be careful with that; the rustling of leaves could mask the sounds of approaching danger, or he and Berwald could give away their positions by constantly stepping on things. There were wooden cutouts, model castles and shallow trenches dotted about the place, thankfully creating cover for them. It looked like a fun place, all things considered. He’d have loved to have had a birthday party here as a child. Or an adult.

Nearby, there was a little dip in the ground, where a mud patch had pooled from the morning’s rain. Easy to miss, but vital.

“Perfect,” he muttered, discreetly pointing to it and winking at Berwald. He crawled over to the mud, scooped up a handful, and began smearing it over his face and helmet. Berwald gave him a strange look. “You want to get camouflaged, right?”

Berwald whined, shaking his head. “Messy.”

“Okay, but keep your pasty head down or the light will be bouncing off it into our enemies’ eyes.” He crawled back behind the bush.

“Enemies? Y’mean friends ‘n family?”

“Not here, not today.” Tino sighed and gently, but firmly, pulled Berwald down to eye level. "Okay, listen up. Do not blow this for me. No mercy, and no making yourself a target. I know that'll be hard, but just assume you're tall enough to be visible at all times and stay down."

Berwald nodded.

"I don't give a fuck that half these people are your family. If you show any hesitation in shooting them, you're dead to me. Understood?"

Another nod. "M'scared n' horny."

"Roger that. Make me proud out there, and there might be a treat for you." He winked. “I’ll roger you.”

Berwald shook his head. "M'not ready. Jus' horny."

"Reading you loud and clear, my man. Your treat is now a big, fat kiss in the privacy of my room."

"Thanks." He smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Hey, don't worry about it," said Tino, feeling suddenly very tender. "We're gonna be a great team, okay?"

The klaxon sounded, and Tino pulled away.

“Showt’me,” muttered Berwald.

“Showtime? You are truly the gayest man in history. This is war, Berwald, not theatre.” Tino blinked. “Wow. I sounded a lot like my dad there. Sorry.”

“S’okay. Kinda funny watching you get so inta this.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll probably ruin the mood soon enough. Now, let’s find Gunner before someone else gets to shoot him.”

Berwald nodded, very enthusiastically. “Let’s f’ck him up.”

...

Luca and Tolli, meanwhile, were busy hiding in a trench, huddled together and praying they wouldn’t be found. It wasn’t the first choice of activity for either of them, but everyone else had been super excited about it. Hopefully, they’d get to shoot someone at some point. At least they’d be going for a nice drink in a warm pub afterwards, and after there’d be a bath.

The two teamed up together, because Tolli didn’t want to be on a team with Vidar or Gunner, and Luca was closest to his own age. But they weren’t close enough to do anything but sit in awkward silence. There were probably things they had in common, but Tolli worried he looked like a little kid to Luca, or if Luca hated small talk. He had to try, though, or things would just get even more awkward. He could try a compliment, he supposed. They tended to go down well.

“I like your hair, by the way.” Tolli tried to rub some warmth into his fingers.

“Thanks,” said Luca, smiling sheepishly. “I like your eyeliner.”

“I like yours!”

He nodded, looking rather guilty. “Hey, can you keep a secret?”

“Sure.”

Luca lifted up his mess of hair to reveal the eyeliner on his right eye wasn’t as good as his left one. In fact, it was nothing short of a blotchy disaster. “I can never get the other eye right.”

Tolli giggled. “I hear you. It’s a weird power I have; I have to do Vidar’s makeup before going out, maybe I can do yours too, if you want.”

“You can be the band’s official makeup artist, maybe.” Luca nudged him. “And you’d get to hang out with your cousins more.”

“Ew.”

“Aww, don’t be like that. They talk about you all the time. Gunner’s super proud of you.”

“Gunner has his own siblings.”

“Really? Oh, yeah, I forgot.”

A blast hit both men in the chest, Luca, then Tolli, with no time for them to react. Tolli tried to scream, winded, but all that came out was a whimper.

“Gotcha!” Tino allowed himself a small jump for joy, from the cover of the woods he’d been spying them from. He high-fived Berwald, then ran over to the trench, ducking down until he was safely inside.

“That hurt,” Luca whined.

“Yeah, they do,” said Tino, “that’s why you have to try not to lose. Have either of you moved since you got here?”

Tolli shrugged. “We were just having a nice chat.”

“You’re not here to chat, you’re here to play!” When Tino attempted to teabag them, Luca punched him in the balls. Tino doubled over with a grunt. “Yeah, I deserved that.”

A second pair of shots sounded, both hitting Luca in the arm. This time, they’d come from Berwald’s gun.

“What the fuck?”

“Aww, my man got all protective,” Tino smiled at him warmly. “Anyway, there’s gotta be some better targets round here. Ones that are more of a challenge.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you fuck off and find them, then.” Luca rubbed his arm. “Leave us alone.”

“Will do, you pair of noobs.” Tino hobbled off back to Berwald, leaving Luca and Tolli to lie in the dirt, nursing the sore spots where bruises would soon be.

...

“Dude, how many weeds would we have to smoke to hotbox this thing,” Gunner looked around the crumbling, little hut they'd chosen to shelter in.

Adriaan gave him a withering look. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m just saying,” he said, “we’d probably need like 30 weeds. Lotta jazz cigarettes. Some dank blunt kush.”

That got a laugh out of Adriaan. “You're adorable.”

“Am I even using hotbox in the right context?”

“Sorta, I guess. It needs to be an enclosed space, and this isn’t really enclosed.” He nodded over at the doorless doorway and holes for windows. “A car or small room would be better.”

“So all the weeds would escape here?”

He sighed. “Yes, Gunner, all the weeds would escape.”

“See? I know about the Mary Jane. How could I be surrounded by all these green trees and grass not know about the Devil’s Lettuce?”

Adriaan snorted. “The Devil’s Lettuce might be my favourite word for weed. My sister always used to call it that.”

“She know you’re a super mega pothead?”

“Yes. I do have other qualities, y’know?”

“Like what?”

“That’s enough personal questions for now.”

Gunner looked at him. “We’re dating.”

“You have to work to unlock my backstory.”

“We’ve been friends for years.”

“And in that time I have remained cool and mysterious. Now, we should get moving. I’m not hiding in here with you when there are people to make miserable out there.” Adriaan stepped outside, glancing around and peering through the trees. Then, without warning, his head snapped back as green paint splattered across his vision. “Fuck!” He cried, ineffectively wiping the paint on his helmet.

“Who dare shoot Adriaan!?” Gunner ran outside, gun at the ready, only to get shot in the head. He stumbled, but the bullets kept coming, exploding across his chest and legs until he was knocked onto his back.

“Thanks. I feel very avenged.” Adriaan looked around for the source of the hellfire, and found Berwald peering out from behind a wooden wall, painted to look like cobblestone.

“Of course,” Gunner groaned, then lifted his gun to return fire.

Another paintball, fired from a different position, hit him in the shoulder.

“Don’t try it, cheater,” called Tino, “you’re out. No more shooting.”

“We didn’t get to shoot anyone!” Gunner cried back.

“Get better, and don’t just sit around making noise! We heard you, like, a mile away.” Tino peered around, then began crawling over to Berwald. “Nice shot, baby. Any ammo left?”

“Bit.”

“You think they’re taking this too seriously?” asked Adriaan. Gunner groaned and nodded. “Wanna go find some of the others and have a shootout instead?”

Gunner wiped dirt off his uniform, before groaning and lying back. “If you mean bullying Luca and Tolli, absolutely.”

...

It was just Gilbert and Vidar left, and they’d heard the others fall, one by one. They’d heard the screams, the gunshots. Neither knew who was next, and if it would be them. Probably them. And probably soon. They knew the Shite Death was on their tail. If they were being honest with themselves, they knew they didn’t have a chance of winning. Or escaping. They weren’t competing; they were being hunted. Despite all the cover of the forest, and despite the fact that both pairs of eyes hadn’t spotted anyone coming near them, the pair couldn’t help feeling like someone was following them.

“I don’t like this,” whispered Gilbert. Vidar shushed him.

They kept moving on, further into the map, and most likely towards danger. But the sooner the game ended, the sooner they could move on.

Gilbert slipped his hand into Vidar’s, and Vidar gave him a strange look. “Sorry,” he pulled away, “I’m tense.” He sure looked it.

Behind them, a twig snapped, followed by the rustling of leaves. Vidar picked up the pace, constantly glancing behind. The second he saw that little fucker, he was blasting paint like he was at a bukakke.

He almost shot a tree branch for moving too quickly.

Gilbert’s head was darting in every direction. This wasn’t supposed to be so scary, but even Vidar was on edge. He didn’t want his beautiful body bruised with bullets, paint or otherwise. It would hurt.

Another rustle, and they picked up the pace. There was nothing behind them, though. Vidar didn’t like this.

Another twig snapped, and Gilbert burst into a sprint. He lept over a trench, ducking past trees and firing wildly. Vidar cursed, and ran after him. The forest veered and swam in front of him, but he dared not stop. Just ahead, Gilbert threw himself over a hay bale, and immediately let out a scream. There was the sound of gunshots, and Vidar was helpless, unable to react as he watched Berwald jump up and start firing.

It was like being punched in the heart. Except he was shot in the heart from a metre away.

“Damn you, Berwald!”

Berwald gave him the smallest, but smuggest smile. Vidar walked around the bale to find Gilbert sprawled out across the floor, groaning and covered in paint. Tino was next to him.

“How the fuck did you manage to get ahead of us?” Vidar bent over, panting.

Tino frowned. “You ran right into us. It was a little ridiculous.”

“So it was Berwald stalking us through the forest?”

The pair shook their heads. “Nope. We were just sitting here, planning our next move,” said Tino.

Gilbert frowned. “So what was following us?”

Everyone turned to look behind them. There was nothing there. The forest was deadly silent, everyone frozen in place. Vidar smacked Gilbert’s arm.

“Idiot, there was nothing chasing us. We got freaked out over the wind.”

“Ow, sorry. I panicked.”

“Yeah, we all saw.”

...

Despite Tino doing everything in his power to kill the fun for the rest of the group, it had been a good day overall. The games where they were just allowed to let loose and shoot everyone were the best, since Tino tended to take out everyone. Even though he was a sore loser and worse winner, the rage and/or gloating tended to evaporate soon after each game ended.

But now it was the last event, the Hunger Games, and Tino was hunting, gun clutched to his chest. The klaxon had just sounded, and he was already on the move, peering through the trees for any sign of the enemy. He kept low, not the most difficult task for someone of his height. He felt like a wolf, moving in silence, looking for prey. He could hear very distant shouts, shrieks and gunshots, but no visuals just yet. Only trees and props.

But it wasn’t long before he found his first target. Oh, beloved Berwald, so blind. So oblivious. He was crouched behind a pile of logs, unfortunately, he had his back facing Tino, and that was his exposed side.

Tino shot him without hesitation.

Berwald made a strangled noise, turning around and giving Tino the most poisonous glare possible. He almost felt bad.

“Sorry, baby,” he tried. Was Berwald actually mad at him? Was this the end for them.

“Y’bastard,” Berwald joked, “y’cruel, backstabbin man.” He didn’t get up, instead lying in the dirt, pretending to choke on blood.

“I am, and you fell for it,” relieved, Tino crouched down next to Berwald, taking off his helmet and stroking his hair. “You fell for me, the homme fatale.” He kissed his nose.

“D’ya, regret it?”

“”No”, I lie.”

Something very hard, and very painful, hit Tino’s arm. He screamed, not from getting shot, but from the rage of losing so quickly. He threw his helmet on the floor.

“Ha!” cried Luca, “finally! Get rekt, noob!”

#sufin #APH Sweden #APH Finland #aph nordics #nedden #aph denmark #aph netherlands #aph luxembourg #APH Iceland #APH Norway #APH Prussia #shattered romanticism of a god #Hetalia fic #hws #Hetalia Fanfiction

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stattic-writes · 5 years

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fabrickind · 7 years

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Revolutionary Girl Utena Liveblog: Episode 1

It all begins here! Join me for sex, violence, intrigue, and lots of rambling analysis about societal structures.

After the opening theme, this episode starts off with a fairytale framework. The curtain rises, and we are told the story of a young princess who was saved by a prince on a white horse.

I know about two things, and that’s film theory and fabrics.With that, I have to say...the animators here clearly have no idea how fabric folds work.

Besides the surprising amount of foreshadowing in the opening theme animation, this sequence sets a lot of the tone of the series. It takes a familiar structure and changes it, though at this point in the series, you may not be aware of these changes. This is just a straightforward shoujo about a girl finding her prince and living happily ever after...right?

The spinning rose frame here is another recurring element in the series. What this episode is telling you is that this is a story, a fantasy. It is a framing. It had to have been framed by someone or some perspective. It is aware of itself as narrative, and is pointing the audience to also be aware of it as narrative. The brilliance of this framework is that the show starts of fairly straightforward, if a little weird and “anime” in its presentation, so that you go along with its premises, like you would with any other story out there. This is a series that teaches you how to watch it as you go, and devices like the opening framework simultaneously throw you directly into the show’s devices and hide their own functioning until much later in the series. Suspension of disbelief and playing into common genre tropes will do that to you.

The spinning rose frame quickly disappears once we change shots, but the play-like animation style remains. Everything looks like it is from a popup book, with the very flat-looking character models (faceless at that) against more realistic but clearly hand-drawn, and somewhat unusual/abstract/surrealist, backdrops. they even cast shadows.

Though, we do get one shot of the prince kissing kid!Utena’s face in the actual style of the show, and properly animated instead of in the stiff cutout style -- is this memory somehow more “real” than the rest? Or is the fact that this memory is mixed in with the “play” aspects a way of telling us that even the “true” memory is not to be trusted? The prince placing the ring on her finger is animated in the same style, and then it immediately cuts back to the stiff cardboard cutout style. These seem to be the “real” memories we get in episode 34, but with this show, there’s no real way to tell what is “real” or if such a concept even applies. (I won’t get too Lacanian here, but I think that the concept of the Real might be applicable somehow...)

That said, the pairing of imagery and spoken lines is really interesting to me here.

Something something being trapped in your coffin something.

Actually, the first time I saw this series, I thought “I’m going to be so mad if it turns out that Utena was dead the whole time” after watching this sequence for the first time. Years later, I’m still not sure if I should be mad or not.

I just noticed the appearances of the rose frames and when they do or do not appear in this sequence -- at the very start, when the prince is leaving, and when the princess decides to become a prince. the colors are red, then white, then pink. I’m sure there’s a reason for this, and I think it has to do with the (literal, in this case framing of Utena’s story. More thoughts to come in later liveblogs.

No liveblog would be complete without repeating the main question: “but was that really such a good idea?” Brave viewer, you will have to draw your own conclusion on that by the end.

After the fairytale opening, it appears to be a fairly typical slice of life schoolgirl shoujo fluffy nonsense show. We get our introduction to Wakaba, who calls Utena her “boyfriend,” and then the camera pans over to the school and lingers on the suspiciously phallic tower, until it cuts to some nice scenery shots of the school’s important locations, including the rose garden and the forest that contains the dueling arena. The phallic tower features very prominently in these shots, but the triumphant music signals that this is just a series of normal establishing shots of the school and not massive foreshadowing.

I am a bit jealous of their architecture, though.

Our introduction to our intrepid heroine comes about by way of the sound of footsteps and images of fragmented parts of her body. We get her feet, an overhead shot of her turning all the ladies’ heads, and then her feet again, this time with a slow tilt up her body until her face is revealed. This doesn’t seem to be an attempt to sexualize her or objectify her, but rather to slowly establish her as our heroine. There’s a bit of an element of shock here -- we first see her as a cool, level-headed girl, but then the moment she opens her mouth (her first line is “weird getup?”), that image is dispelled. She is trying very hard to fit a certain image. Our introduction to her is also our introduction to the teacher who is always hounding her about her uniform, establishing this character as someone who is willing to bend the rules, but only within the already established framework. Checking the student rulebook shows this quite clearly -- she’ll wear a “boy’s” uniform, but she’s still working with the system of both the rules established by the school and the system that establishes a difference between “boys” and “girls” in terms of clothing choices.

I get a distinct sense that Utena here is set up to be both a typical shoujo type character and an atypical one, but in ways that are working within the shoujo economy of representation, which becomes thoroughly queered by the end of the series. She’s a girly-girl at heart, always insisting that she’s just a “normal girl” and that she doesn’t want to play basketball with the boys, yet she’s also a fairly typical tomboy figure in that she’s fawned over by the other girls at the school, she plays sports, and she bucks the rules to a degree. She is simultaneously both sides of the binary set up, yet she doesn’t end up as the simple Feminist Figure™ of the boyish girl who still retains her connection to femininity, or the figure who rejects femininity because she finds masculinity to be Stronger and Better, even as she’s set up as such from the start. That’s part of the framework that we’re trained to think within, however.

I think my favorite part of this sequence is Utena doing all of her weird poses for the camera and then the teacher literally breaking the fourth wall. That showoff.

The show pretty clearly sets itself up as spectacle, here. We know that we’re watching something, and it’s letting us know from the very start.

Who else but Utena would hold court in the middle of the school, her pink masculinity and youth contrasting sharply with the feminine, older, green teacher who is her mirror here? We are removed from the action here, much like the students watching from above, but we are also set apart from them, even as we are still firmly put in the place of “audience.” We are watching the in-universe audience, which puts us in a unique position, where we can become self-aware of our position and they cannot.

Utena insists that she’s a girl and doesn’t want to be a boy, yet claims that she wants to be a prince. The (perpetually offscreen) boy that she’s talking to doesn’t seem to understand the difference, and I think this says a lot about the show’s use of gender -- to an outside party, “prince” is conditional on “boy,” but the world that Utena gets wrapped up in seems to have “prince” and “princess” as the genders, not tied to the outside concepts of “boy” and “girl,” even as they are very strongly tied to societal concepts of masculinity and femininity. (I would say that “duelist” is a category that moves between these, and that “witch” is the other side of “princess”...but we have many weeks to go before we get there) Utena is set up as very naive here, but that’s what makes her so powerful as a protagonist. She’s trying to fit into these societal structures, but she’s doing it “wrong,” and her lack of understanding of the similarity between “boy” and “prince” (among other things) both sets her up to fall completely into these categories and find a way around them. Eventually.

More frames within frames, but this time, we’re suturing ourselves to Utena’s point of view as we watch a story largely play out for our benefit. There’s an odd sense of flatness in this frame, as if she’s looking at a painting rather than through a window. Of course, while Anthy is actually being abused (and in far worse ways than we can imagine in this first episode), this entire scene is staged to help give Utena character motivation, and the framing of it and the explicit sense of watching cues us in to that.

One thing that always strikes me about this show is the use of overlap editing. Our first example is in Saionji slapping Anthy -- he doesn’t slap her twice, we just see it twice -- which not only puts emphasis on the action, but it expands the screentime of the action (vs. the story time). What we sees takes longer than what “actually” happens, and this establishes early on the sense of time that this series uses. (Another very obvious example is the sword-pulling sequence -- the actions don’t happen multiple times, we just see them multiple times.) Time here is cyclical -- it doesn’t matter if Saionji slapped Anthy once or hundreds of times in that moment, because it’s all of those times, and none of those times. “Natural” time doesn’t have an effect here.

I would like to take a moment to appreciate Wakaba. she’s too precious.

Our first Student Council meeting is somehow both the most normal one and the most unusual one. No baseball games or rows of fans in the background?

And yet, the council actually calls Saionji out on his behavior, which seems rather unusual. I feel like even though Utena isn’t here to witness this meeting, it’s still entirely for our benefit -- setting up Saionji as a villain, letting us know about this ~shadowy organization~ (full of huge dorks), and establishing further that Saionji’s treatment of Anthy is Not Okay, which puts us on Utena (and Anthy’s) side. Of course, Anthy’s own actions here are largely performance, in that she’s acting the role of the Rose Bride.

A few things to note in this meeting:

Miki taking “minutes”

Juri’s dramatic posing that would put even a Jojo to shame (just a little more of a side lean and bring that hand up to your face, Juri...)

Everyone repeating Touga’s line back

Miki dramatically using his stopwatch (3:12 is the time when he stops it)

How TALL are you, Saionji???

Though, the way in which romance is framed here is interesting to me. they all call Saionji out on his abuse, but don’t ultimately actually do anything about it. Even though everyone knows that his behavior is wrong (as evidenced by not just the fact that they’re confronting him, but but things like Miki sweating and shaking when dealing with the situation), they’re quick to brush it off as a surface-level “oh they’re just lovebirds and we shouldn’t meddle in their affairs,” even as that contradicts their previous words and actions. Of course, no one here is really seeing Anthy as human, just as an object to help them get what they want, and they aren’t actually seeing the “engagement” as a romantic relationship, but rather an arrangement based on power.

I’m not sure if the dueling rules change here or if Saionji is just poking fun at his fellow councilmembers.

“If you’re so concerned about the rules of the Rose Seal...

Later, it’s pretty clearly established that End of the World tells the Duelists (at least in this arc) who is going to duel and when through his letters. Is this something that is relatively new once Utena arrives on the scene? Or is this something that was happening all along and there was a set order before? (This changes quite a bit once we get further in the series, of course, and motivations and Duelists change up a bit)

A few things about the love letter scene

Wakaba has amazing stationary

The crowd is entirely boys (what is this space? Is it a boys-only space, or does it just happen to have a lot of boys in it?) (There’s actually a lot of really interesting framing in this scene, but I won’t cap it all)

Utena’s comment about “real” men. This plays into a lot of ideas about how a “real” man would act in certain ways (in this case, as typically, this would be acting as a gentleman, setting immaturity [=boyhood] against maturity [=manhood] as the marker or masculinity, rather than setting femininity against masculinity as the marker of manhood), which ultimately ties back to the distinction Utena makes between a “boy” and a “prince.” Princes want to protect women (princesses) in distress, at least in Utena’s mind. She’s basing her gender policing on roles rather than on appearances, which is how her gender expression is often policed. Same framework, but a different way of conceptualizing it within there.

In the next scene, Saionji claims that he didn’t post the letter, and then changes to claim that he used it to give everyone a laugh. I actually believe the first claim. It would make more sense if it were posted in order to frame him as more of a villain within the world of the story (not that he isn’t a terrible guy already) to further push Utena into dueling.

Though, can we take a moment to appreciate how amazingly ridiculous the story of this show is? Some jerk made the protagonist’s bff cry, so she challenges him to a duel for the sake of getting revenge and accidentally wins a girl in the process.

Our first Shadow Girls play: “But be careful, brave hero. There are rules in the forest. Do you know what they are?”

Besides a very ominous bit of foreshadowing here (and where the narrative starts to break down), I think this speaks to some of the issues of systems of power that I’m been drawing out here. Utena has walked unknowingly into a system of power that she doesn’t fully understand, while also largely following the rules of that system (while not being wholly determined by them). The Shadow Girls outright state this in the very first episode. Yes, it could easily refer to the actual rules of the dueling game, but this is RGU we’re talking about.

This also begs the question -- what perspective are these shadow plays coming from, and for whose benefit are they? I feel like this answer would change, even, once we get to the Black Rose Saga and C-ko, but it’s worth asking early on. Utena is directly addressed, but she doesn’t seem to have (conscious, at least) awareness of the plays until the BRS (and then episode 34), so it seems as if the plays are for our benefit as the audience. And yet...are these characters omniscient? Who are they (aliens) and where are they getting their information?

We get that great imagery of the magical door with the special key (the ring) and then everything in the landscape shifts to open up to the dueling arena. I’ve always loved how Utena is a little bit “wtf?” but then doesn’t really ever question it again that there’s a forest with a ton of impossible stairs in it somehow behind the school. Or the fact that it changes from night to day once she enters, speaking of weird concepts of time. (Is the light from the projector just that bright???)

So that’s what they meant... :P

[insert obligatory note about how this is more literal than anyone realizes at this point]

[insert obligatory note about deflowering]

[insert obligatory note of “who the hell is ringing the bells at the start and end of each duel?”]

Actually, a real note on the bells -- are they wedding bells or funerary bells?

Is Anthy’s shock during the duel feigned? Or is she actually surprised that someone seems to be dueling for her sake (and wins)? I think it could go either way. (Also, obligatory note about the “senpai” clapback and how great it is)

When Utena is walking home and Anthy is there to declare herself engaged to Utena, but Anthy doesn’t move in with her until later...where do they go? What happens in that space of time?

The duel itself is pretty much setting up the structure for the series here, so there isn’t terribly much to note besides capping some of the more interesting juxtapositions of lyrics and characters. Pull the sword, duel, Utena wins. It’s when this structure changes that the duels start to get really interesting, and I’ll have more to say about those particular cases, and maybe more about what the dueling structure itself means. As for now....I’m tired. And glad to be done with with the first episode of my liveblog.

For anyone who actually read through all of that, thank you for sticking with it!! :D I’ll be posting up the next episode next week, and I hope to do one a week until I’ve finished out the series.

Please, let this spark discussion and analysis, and always feel free to send me analytical questions. :]

#revolutionary girl utena #utena liveblog #utena analysis #long post is long #not blog themed #real talk with fabrickind #god this is long #enjoy!! :D

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