Hey, I know it's obvious, but in POTO a very important and inseparable part of the show is music, which is interpreted in different ways. I have a question, among so many productions (replica, non-replica) which orchestrations do you like the most and in your opinion are the best. Can you give some examples?
In a general sense, I really like the Canadian orchestrations (which sound more brassy, I suppose, and stronger, though the fact that they were reused in several other highlight recordings made the uniqueness wear off a little), the Vienna orchestrations (unique with many fine details, and I love the suspenseful violin slides during the 'Final Lair'), and, as a guilty pleasure, the more synth-y, electric guitar-y orchestrations going on in the Polish production.
Also, if I could pick a specific moment that I liked from a production, I do enjoy how the Japanese production has the instruments grow louder, faster, and more frenetic during 'Notes II' right before Christine shouts, "If you don't stop, I will go mad!" It almost drowns out the singers, but really conveys the stress of that moment. And while I'm on the Japanese production, I like that they choose (or "chose", because it's generally a pre-recording) to have the music go silent after the Phantom's, "Christine, I love you" line. I suppose that's more like the lack of orchestrations, but it's still impactful.
Finally, since I'm going on about favorite moments, I will say my least favorite little instrumental is this bit from 'Notes II' that was altered in the restaged tour, during Raoul's, "So it is to be war between us!" (Compare to the original here.) A mutual pointed it out and how it's now being used in productions opening after the restaged tour came out, and every time I hear it I get a little shiver of anger. Do not like.
Hello! Yesterday was my 18th birthday, is that enough reason to get the tiniest glimpse of the new OM chapter or (even better) a Warlord Steve scene? I absolutely adore your writing!
Happy Birthday! That’s so exciting. I hope now that you’re officially an Adult, you will join us on Discord. In celebration, here’s the beginning of the next OM chapter (sorry, I haven’t written any Warlord other than the follower celebration ficlet). Enjoy
Ten Years Later…
Underneath him, the plane hummed. Small reverberations tremored through him, arching up his spine where he sat stiff-backed against the curve of the C-130’s hull. Tony was curled next to him, tucked under Steve’s arm in the darkened belly of the cargo plane while the rest of the Air Force crew huddled somewhere near the front.
He could hear the occasional low thrum of voices, even over the engines. They spoke of mundane things. The weather. The crappy food at the base cafeteria back in Bagram. None of the voices mentioned Tony. No one talked about what happened in the desert, not the kidnapping and not what happened later. They didn’t talk about Tony laying in a hospital bed and Steve coming back to base covered in blood that wasn’t his own. Certainly, no one mentioned what they found out there in the mountains whenever it was that SHIELD or the military got around to clean-up.
That was good. He didn’t want Tony to know, not the details at least. Tony was smart enough to work out the rest for himself, though he hadn’t said much about it and let the unsaid release its grip on Steve’s chest long enough for him to breath. Instead, he teased Steve. Back at the hospital. Something about throwing people through walls improving Steve’s mood, though Steve had been too focused on the hole in his Omega’s chest to give the teasing much notice. Normally, he would have noticed the teasing. Tony knew how much Steve liked it. Being teased, like he was anyone else and not something else, something alien and out of place, though Tony was the main one to do it.
Normally, he would have noticed. But, there was the hole in Tony’s chest, and Steve couldn’t focus on much beyond that. The hole in Tony’s chest, right in the center, the one that glowed now with some kind of eerie light through the suit Tony insisted on wearing. The God-damned hole that someone put there, put in Tony’s chest, put a battery in him to keep his heart from exploding--a fucking car battery--put shrapnel there to tear him apart, touched him, scared him, held his head under water in a bucket with a fucking car battery attached to him--
“Hey,” Tony said, his voice quiet. Soft. Barely a whisper. His throat was still raw from dehydration. Or screaming for help. Screaming for help into an endless sand sea, and no one coming. Screaming for Steve to come, to find him, to save him. Screaming and screaming until his voice was nearly gone.
Tony said it was dehydration. The doctors said it was dehydration. Steve thought they might all be lying. Steve closed his eyes and let out a long breath, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. A headache swarmed around his temples, never quite landing, but there.
“Hey,” Steve said. His voice sounded raw, too, raw and weak, like the word had to be scraped out of his throat.
“You’re thinking again. What did I tell you about that?” Tony observed lightly. “You’re doing that thing where you blame yourself for not preventing every bad thing in the world, and that kind of guilt trip is really more my thing, so, I’m going to need you to stop.”
“None of this was your fault, Tony,” Steve replied, his voice sharper than he meant it to be, but he was tired, and there was still a hole in Tony’s chest, and maybe it wasn’t dehydration after all.
“Wel, one of the weapons that hit me literally had my name on it, so it’s maybe a little my fault. No, stop, I’m not--I’m not blaming myself,” Tony sighed, then pressed closer to Steve’s side, hemming them both in against the plane’s curved bulkhead. “I’m saying it wasn’t your fault, and something’s going on, but I’m--God, forget it, I’ll think about it later. You’re making me tense. You’re making those poor Alphas up there tense. Look at them. That one’s pretending to read a Skymall like it’s the Rosetta Stone. I miss Skymall. We should get one of those giant chess sets, what do you think? Put it on the deck up at the cabin.”
He nudged his chin at Steve, curling himself tighter against Steve’s side, one hand reaching over to rub lightly up and down over Steve’s arm. “Steve,” Tony said around a sigh. “You have got to stop doing this to yourself. That voice in your head that’s playing like a broken record up there, telling you everything it thinks you did wrong, over and over? Yeah, I know you,” Tony said at Steve’s startled look.
“I know, I--I know,” Steve nodded, letting his head fall backwards to bump against the bulkhead. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to--to put this on you. God, that’s not--I’d never...Christ. I’m sorry, Tony.”
“Steve, neither of us know what the hell we’re doing here, okay? This is a one-day-at-a-time kind of thing, you hear me? We’re figuring it out as we go, and we’re doing the best we can. And I’m...fuck, I’m working at like twelve percent capacity here, Steve, and so I’m putting a ton of my baggage on you right now, I know that, and you’re going to carry it without complaint because that’s what you do, and I know you don’t even think about it that way, but, God, Steve,” Tony continued, his voice grim, but lined wiih a steely determination that Steve recognized, “it’s okay for you to put some of yours on me. That’s what we do for each other, because we’re us, you got me? You and me,” he paused, waiting, Steve knew. “Say, ‘Yes, Tony,’ like you hear me and actually think I’m right, and it’s not all on you to handle everything and make everything better.”
“Yes, Tony,” Steve sighed. He heard Tony let out a huff of air, then felt him nudge closer, his cheek burrowing into Steve’s chest.
“Liar,” Tony accused, though good-naturedly.
“I’m...trying,” Steve said. “I'll try.”
“I know,” Tony whispered from the crook of Steve’s arm.
Tony reached down with his good arm, the one not held somewhat gingerly next to his side, and interlaced his fingers with Steve’s, forcing Steve to unclench his fist where he had balled his hand against his thigh.
Steve made himself let out a breath. A part of him still wanted to apologize. Again. Beg Tony to forgive him. What was the point, though? Of any of that? Of him? It didn’t take away Tony’s nightmares. It didn’t take away Steve’s failures. It certainly didn’t take away the hole in Tony’s chest, the one someone put there, and yeah, that someone was probably decaying in a desert right now, but what was the point of what he could do if he couldn’t even keep Tony safe? The thought gnawed at him, chewing through muscle and bone, until he felt like the sinew holding him together was little more than a frayed bit of string.
Next to him, Tony went quiet again. His breathing steadied and his body went slack, though he wasn’t asleep, not really, Steve knew.
Steve didn’t like it. The quiet. It wasn’t Tony. Tony was brash and bold. Loud. He screamed his extraordinariness at the world. This quiet version who had existed since the hospital--maybe before, Steve didn’t know, his memory of the desert was a red-coated nightmare--reminded Steve too much of when they first met--that version of Tony was making him jittery. It felt like they were back there, back in time to the beginning, and there was a door with a security code and a gulf the size of a continent between him and Tony. Something was off. Wrong. Tony was all but in his lap, but it felt like some part of him wasn’t really fully there, like there was a phantom distance separating them. Like Tony was away.
Steve shook his head, gritting his teeth together. He wasn’t going to do that, not here, not when Tony needed him to be strong. He concentrated on the sounds, instead of the quiet...lack... emanating from Tony. Rattles, shimmies, creaking metal that strained against the shear of the wind.
Under it all, he could hear it. The thing. The new thing. The thing in the hole Tony’s chest. The thing that was keeping him alive when Steve couldn’t. It pressed up against his side, just under his arm, where Tony was turned into him. It was hard and metal and protruded slightly. It hummed, a low, electrical whine that pulsed like an accusation.
He wanted to hate it. Maybe a part of him did. This thing that Tony built to save himself when Steve couldn’t. It was a constant reminder of how miserably he failed. He wanted to hate it, because he knew what it meant. Not the details, not yet, of course, but he knew.
He knew, because he knew Tony, what some of those thoughts in Tony’s head were about. A metal suit, the men back at the compound said. A metal suit that could fly, and his Omega, who dreamed of touching the stars. There was no going back, was there? This thing, this new thing, it changed everything. Somehow, in ways Steve couldn’t yet fathom, everything was different, and this thing was at the root of it all, but he couldn’t hate it, this thing. It was keeping Tony alive, and that meant he would die for this thing in Tony’s chest. Not that Tony needed him to, because Tony saved himself, hadn’t he? He didn’t need Steve.
I can’t lose him, Steve thought, the idea slamming into him, making his breath catch in his throat and his body go rigid. For an instant, it felt like the plane’s cabin was rushing in around them, a churning, dark mass that clouded his vision and filled his ears. He had time enough to think not again, and then the sensation was gone, and he could hear the thrumming and rattles again and the walls were where they should be.
“We should go fishing,” Tony said abruptly.
“Huh?” Steve frowned.
“When we get back to the cabin. We should go fishing again. We haven’t done that in...God, what’s it been? Two years? Three?” Tony asked, shaking his head and huffing out a breath, all restless motion now.
“Two years, three months, fourteen days,” Steve replied.
“That still falls into the useful, but kinda creepy category,” Tony said, craning his neck to peer up at Steve. “I was thinking about it. In the ca--in Afghanistan. I was thinking about going fishing again. I got so busy with the company and...everything. Life. I don’t know,” he waved his hand in the air in a vague gesture, “I realized that we haven’t fished in a long time. We should do that more often. It was good, don’t you think? Back then, yeah, because I got to talk at you until I realized it might be okay to actually talk to you, and you got to pine quietly over my incredibly hot self, and we both got to ponder the mystery that is the fish mind, but even after. Even after everything, it was good, wasn’t it?”
Tony paused, brushing his good hand through his hair. He leaned back against Steve’s chest again and let his hand drop to the center of his own, between his ribs, where the thing keeping him alive hummed somewhere under the plane’s engines like a constant alarm that would never go off.
Steve nodded once and looked down, catching Tony watching him. “It’s always been good.” He wasn’t sure what question he was answering, but that felt like the right answer.
“You said I was beautiful. Back at the hospital,” Tony husked out, fingers grazing over the thing in his chest. “Did you mean it?”
“Yes,” Steve replied, without hesitation.
Tony was quiet for a long moment, the seconds ticking by in the thrum of the plane’s engines. “I don’t want things to change. With us, I mean. I don’t want this...” he gestured at his chest, “to, you know, change what we have, because this is good, Steve, it really is. But, it will. Has already, maybe, I don’t know, I mean, you barely look at me, and when you do, it’s like...I can see how much you’re hurting and trying not to because you think you shouldn’t because I’m the only one who gets to do that or some Alpha bullshit, but...I just know that I’m not the person who went into that cave, Steve, and that’s who you, that’s--I can’t be that person again, and you’re gonna blame yourself, and I’m gonna blame myself, and there’ll be a whole cycle of blame, and I don’t want that to--to--fuck. I don’t know what I’m saying. Ignore me.”
“Tony,” Steve began, his voice an aching, pained thing, though the right words hung out there somewhere unknown. “Nothing has to change, nothing--we don’t have to change, we…I love you, Tony, and this...it--it doesn’t have to change anything.”
“Yes. Yes, it does,” Tony said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. He shot Steve a wan smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Then...we’ll change with it,” Steve replied, somewhat helplessly. “I know that how I feel about you, that hasn’t changed. That--that could never change. Never, Tony.”
Tony sat up and shrugged the blanket off his shoulders, staring off into the plane’s cargo hold with unseeing eyes. After a long moment, he balled the blanket up and tossed it to the side, then stood, reaching out for Steve’s hand. “Come on, soldier. Up and at ‘em.”
“What? What’s wrong?” Steve asked, immediately rising and reaching out for Tony’s shoulders to give him a once-over. He looked alright. Actually, there was a bit of color to his cheeks, which was good to see, and his eyes were bright over a reassuring half-smile.
“Nothing’s wrong. Well, I mean, a lot’s wrong, but--look, just come on, would you?” Tony urged. “Bathroom,” he added, by way of explanation.
Oh. That made sense. With his arm still sore, he probably needed help. Sparing a quick glance at the airmen near the front of the plane, Steve followed Tony towards the small door marked lavatory. Thankfully, this particular C-130 was one of the ones configured for distinguished visitors, as the Air Force liked to call them, meaning the facilities were at least private, if small. The two of them only just fit, and Steve’s back was pressed against the door, but it worked. Instead of doing anything, though, Tony stood over the small sink, gripping the edge of it with his good hand, his head dipped down to his chest and his eyes closed.
“Tony? Are you okay? Do you need me to--” Steve started.
“I just,” Tony began, a deep breath slowly coming out of him as he looked up, “really want to go fishing again. Just...can we do that? Tell me we can do that.” His voice was oddly pinched and high, almost pleading. He was staring at his own reflection in the small, square mirror that was stuck over the lavatory’s tiny sink with a strangely hard gaze, like he was searching for something. Finally, his eyes settled on Steve’s reflection instead, and his face softened, whatever vehemence that had gripped him slipping off like a mask.
“Of course, sure, we can do that,” Steve agreed. “When we get back, we’ll go. I’m ordering the supplies this time, though,” he added with a soft smile, because it made Tony breathe out a laugh, and for a moment, it seemed entirely possible that they could just go back to the way things were before, “just to be sa--”
Steve broke off with a gasp as Tony twisted around and clawed at the leather straps on Steve’s uniform, dragging Steve’s mouth down to his with an urgent groan.
Hi, I just thought of Tony shuffling into the kitchen squinting and barely on the functional side of awake, making his way to Steve whose standing at the stove and just shoving his face into Steves back, hands going around Steves waist. Steve just hums as he takes Tony's weight and continues cooking. Tony is wearing steves sweater and pjbottoms. The avengers and bucky is sitting around the table clutching their chests. Tony is too cute. PP posts it on Twitter. #SoftieIronMan #OldMarriedCouple-🐝
That’s a very sweet image! I can relate to pre-coffee Tony very much these days. My daughter has cheerleading practice at 7am, and it is BRUTAL.
Sabremom! I hope you’re well. I was wondering if you could share a short story (a snippet? idk) of cavemen au with us? I really would love to see our blonde buffy alpha Steve during sometime while he was teaching his beautiful omega Tony how to communicate! Pretty please?
I’m so glad you liked that one. I keep writing weirder and weirder fics, I think, but I thank all of you who are along for the ride. Unfortunatey, right now, I don’t really have time to do much more with that fic, though I’d love to revisit it sometime. Here’s a tiny snippet for you that I like to think happened, though:
“Flur,” Tony enunciated, trying out the strange sound. “Fluuuurrrr,” he rolled it out, and that was closer, he could hear, though he couldn’t quite get it right.
“Flower,” Steve corrected gently. He held out the red-stemmed, white-petaled plant to Tony.
“Flur-er,” Tony tried again. Better. Steve said the plant had a specific name, but was also generically called flower. Tony knew it as a plant that could be used to flavor stews and other dishes and whose root could be boiled and softened to help an upset stomach. It worked particularly well for older people. Tony knew where it grew and when. He knew the motion for it in the Clan language, which, depending on how he performed it and who he was talking to, might include all of that information or just some, though the idea that it was simply one part of a huge category of plants that fit word was completely foreign to him. It was what it was, though he didn’t know how to explain that to Steve.
“Beautiful flower,” Steve said.
“What mean?” Tony asked.
“What does beautiful mean? Oh, well, ah,” Steve began, then looked away, his face reddening as they sat under the shade of a tree near the cave.
Tony grinned. He loved it when that happened to Steve. His own face did that, too. For years, his adoptive mother had tried to treat it so it would stop, but it never had. But, Steve’s face did it, too! Tony watched with delight as the redness spread down Steve’s throat, until Steve looked back over at him.
“The flower is beautiful,” Steve said. “The sky is beautiful,” he pointed up. “Especially at sunset, when it’s all full of colors. The mountains over there are beautiful. A spider’s web. One of those bluebirds that keeps trying to steal the berries you bring me, they’re beautiful. Lots of things are beautiful,” he added, swiping a hand over his face, like he could brush the redness away.
Steve cleared his throat. Tony thought maybe he should make Steve some honey tea. He had some tea leaves with him and a small bit of hardened honey he could melt. Tony watched Steve closely, noticing the way his body had gone stiff and tight, his eyes bright and soft, his mouth pulled into something that wasn’t quite a smile, though Tony didn’t know why he was sure it wasn’t a smile, even though it looked like one. It was too sad for that, though, and Steve said smiles were for happiness.
Before Tony could react, Steve reached out and brushed his hand over Tony’s cheek, tucking the flower behind his ear. “Tony is beautiful,” Steve said, then got up and hobbled back towards the cave, leaving Tony staring after him.
Oh god I love CN!Steve going imma kill you if you even think about Tony like that. I guess it should be scary but it's not here. Like hey my omega is so hawt but you all don't live or respect him and you'd have crushed him so I'll punch your face in if you even think about it. But imagine T having a heat at MIT and horny alphas standing outside and Steve growling from the window to scare them away. Or Rhodes going, seriously you're lusting after Caps omega?
“You said, and I’m quoting here, ‘I’ll just stand at the back, Tony. I won’t say a word. You’ll barely notice I’m there,”’ Tony reminded him in a disgruntled voice as he dragged Steve out of his Intro to Robotics class and shoved him against the far wall next to a couple of water fountains.
“Technically, that’s exactly what I did,” Steve shrugged.
“Yeah. You stood there. At the back of the class. All quiet like,” Tony agreed, nodding, his mouth pursing. “WEARING YOUR CAPTAIN AMERICA UNIFORM AND TOTING THE SHIELD AND GLARING DEATH AT EVERYONE IN THERE! That was not in the spirit of what we agreed to, Steven Grant Rogers, and you know it, don’t you give me that technically bullshit.” He swatted, ineffectually, at Steve’s chest and shot an annoyed look at a group of students huddled next to the announcement board. “The poor professor didn’t even get through the syllabus, his voice was shaking so much. And that Alpha who sat next to me scooted his desk so far over, he was practically on top of the poor kid next to him,” Tony added with a harrumphing frown
“Personal space is a thing, Tony,” Steve grinned. “You told me that, remember. You said, ‘Steve, it’s so weird, no one even moves out of the way to let me by, it’s like they just expect me to go around them, it’s so annoying.’ That’s what you said. And I said that was strange, because that’s never happened to me. Then you said--”
“I know what I said,” Tony interrupted, holding up his hand and aiming an annoyed grimace at Steve. “Oh, you just love this, don’t you? Yeah, you do. Look,” Tony pointed, “Look at those poor Alphas trying desperately not to look at me. That one’s going to--yep, he ran into the glass door. See? See what happens? This is what happens every time you show up. Now, everyone’s looking--dammit!” Tony broke off as Steve made a sudden move forward, sending the pack of unfortunate students who had been watching him and Steve suddenly scattered like roaches when you turn on the light. Steve huffed out a laugh and looked down at Tony with a wink.
“Stop that,” Tony admonished, though he couldn’t keep the laugh out of his voice. “No one’s ever going to talk to me.”
“No one’s ever going to talk to you unless you want them to,” Steve gently corrected. Tony frowned at him, then sighed.
“Yeah, well...I can handle myself, you know. I’ve gotten pretty good at it. And I have Rhodey. He takes care of me, you know that. I don’t need you always playing knight in shining armor every time I complain,” Tony muttered, half under his breath. “Besides, it isn’t so bad anymore. They’re mostly used to me, this is just a new department now that I’m getting into classes for my major. They just need a little breaking in, that’s all. It just...it takes a little bit. It isn’t a big deal. I can take it. I mean, I’ve dealt with--you know. A lot. I’m tough now,” he laughed, a bit ruefully.
“I know you can handle yourself. I know just how brave you are, Tony,” Steve said. “You’re brave, all the time, so much more than you give yourself credit for. But...you shouldn’t have to be. Not always. Not when you have me.”
“Do you know how hard it is to stay mad at you when you say stuff like that and when you...look like this,” Tony asked. He reached up and grabbed at the leather braces that went around Steve’s shoulders and tugged at them, pulling Steve closer.
“All part of my brilliant strategy,” Steve smiled. “Terrify them,” he jerked his head towards the other students who were desperately trying to look literally anywhere else, Tony noticed, “and turn you on. Is it working?”
“Maybe,” Tony admitted. “Maybe a little. Like, a tad. Almost immeasurable, really, it’s barely--ummpfh” Tony broke off as Steve leaned down and captured his mouth in a long, lingering kiss. Finally, Steve pulled back, his arms still around Tony’s waist, holding him up, which was probably a good thing because Tony was clinging to the leather straps on Steve’s uniform for dear life. “Okay, so, maybe, technically, there are a few benefits to having you visit class,” Tony admitted. “Want to go walk across campus in a completely straight line and see what happens?”
Someone needs to tell RDJ he needs to stop wearing those ridiculous lifts/heels or whatever. They look really stupid and he doesn’t need them. He’s not even that short! He’s already a good looking attractive guy and people will STILL love him in normal shoes.
CN!Steve to 616!Steve: HOW many years have you known him and you still haven’t slept with him?! And to Ults!Steve: he calls you SWEETHEART? and DARLING? and you’re not sleeping with him EITHER???? AM I THE ONLY SANE STEVE ROGERS?!?!?
Poor CN Steve would just collapse into AA Steve’s arms and point in horror at everyone else.
