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lexischococoveredblueberries · 5 months

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Can you make a veneer x reader where reader is supposedly assistant but actually a super famous model/popstar? Velvet and Veneer only realize that their assistant was no ordinary person, (Veneer notices it first) but a celebrity more popular than them (Velvet only realizes when they go to reader's concert that Veneer begged Velvet to go with him) :3 (also reader took the job because they wanted to try having "a normal job" for once and for the possibility of making friends with other popstars) and can we choose our stage names ourselves?

my first request, thank u!!! i love this plot omg…, absolutely >o<

F/S/N : first stage name

L/S/N : last stage name

┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　° ┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　° ┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚

• falling for fame •

veneer x FEM!reader

• one shot

• fluff

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .・。

“goodnight, Velvet and Veneer.”

you closed the door to their dressing room and

dashed down the hall. you had just finished helping

Velvet and Veneer get un-ready from their

performance, which was absolutely spectacular.

every time you watch them perform you’re taken

away by how they control an audience and how their

aura beams across the room. being their assistant ,

you kind of have to say things like that for appeal, but

you really meant it 99% of the time.

the other the majority of that percentage was from

what you took by watching Venner, though.

whenever you watched him dance and sing and

seem so relaxed, you can’t help but feel the urge to

start moving too.

maybe he was your inspiration when you decided to become your own star.

now out of the building, you hurried down a small

trail behind the overly large structure which led to an

underground neighbourhood that was lightened up

by old bulbs hanging from trees and cheap

streetlights. this place didn’t really have any

meaning , well, of course until you showed up.

you had finally made it to another building , where

you dragged yourself to your own dressing room.

after running up many stairs, you let your huge work

tote bag down and started undressing, throwing your

robe on as you waited for someone.

knock knock

there she was.

“come in,” you called and the door opened. Georgia,

your own assistant , came through holding clothes in

her arms and lots of small bags. she smiles brightly

at you.

“oh, y/n, thank goodness. i almost thought you

ditched on all of us.” she jokes, putting the outfit

down on your mini sofa beside your vanity which you

sat at. Georgia was a sweet woman, who was a

mother to a small boy, Finn, you had met one or

twice. she was a dream assistant to anyone who

wanted one that didn’t bark or bitch.

“i would never abandon you, Gia. the siblings were

busy today, Velvet wanted extra touch ups and such.”

you explained while Georgia set up curling irons and

laid out makeup brushes. you seen her smile slyly at

you.

“oh, really? it wasn’t because you got caught up

staring holes in the back of her brothers head? huh,

how strange.” she teased you, and you fought back a

huge smile that threatened to take up your whole

face.

“sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” you

murmur, trying to hide the embarrassment in your

voice, but obviously failing.

you sort of wished Veneer would show up, if only he

knew. you weren’t sure WHY he didn’t know,

Velvet either, considering you were popular enough

for plenty of people to know about.

you tried to shrug it off, but you still felt weird about

it. you guessed they had better things to worry

about, that wasn’t you.

( performance ref pictures for anyone that wants them, if not then imagine to your hearts content )

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧ ┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧ ┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚

Meanwhile…

“goodnight, Velvet and Veneer.”

you closed the door, and Veneer bit the inside of his

cheek.

“i wonder where she goes after her shifts.” he

wonders out loud, crossing his arms. Velvet looks at

him like he said something out of pocket, and she

scoffed.

“hm, well, i don’t really give a shit. she can do what

she wants, can’t she?” she said in a snarky tone,

gathering her things together and throwing her now

free hair into a loose ponytail. you did an amazing job

with being able to get all of the product out of their

hair , and Veneer only noticed how flawless it was

now.

Velvet headed towards the door and looked back at

Veneer.

“i’m heading home, Ven. you following ?” she asked,

raising an eyebrow. Veneer was still staring at the

door from when you walked out, but he looked at

Velvet and smiled.

“yeah, eventually. go on, i’ll get a ride later.” he

replied. Velvet kind of gave a side eye to a fake

camera and shrugged. “mkay.. ciao.” she closed the

door on her way out.

Veneer waited a second. two. three.

he scrambled, threw on a pullover hoodie and bolted

out the door, following after you.

he panicked half the time, hoping that he looked like

a janitor on his way home from his shift , and frankly

he did. he followed you out of the building and down

the strange path that he didn’t even knew existed,

but he tried not to question it.

he made sure not to get too close , but also not too

far away, not because he was afraid of losing sight of

you, but also to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt.

now he saw what he walked into, a beautiful

underground neighborhood that almost looked like a

child’s dream treehouse. he was so taken aback that

he lost sight of you and began to panic. you

vanished in thin air, and he almost turned around to

run. but then he started hearing music, from a stage

from the middle of the grounds.

“what…” he whispered. he began walking towards it.

it took him a few minutes to get there, and when he

did, loads of people started flooding the ground, and

he became afraid of people recognizing him. he

pulled the hood further up but made sure to keep his

eyes on the stage. but it just got worse from there.

he could’ve swore the ENTIRE neighborhood was

flooded with people; 3x the crowd that Veneer and

Velvet get. Veneer began to over think.

‘Vel wouldn’t be happy about this…’ he thought to

himself, and he was about to leave again, when all

the lights on stage went off. people began cheering

and screaming as the sound of footsteps tapped on

the stage. the lights came back on, and Veneer seen

a tall lady standing at the front of the stage in a suit

holding a microphone

“you’ve all been waiting long enough! please welcome our loved, F/S/N L/S/N to the stage!”

more cheering commenced and Veneer was getting

confused. he certainly didn’t know that name. that

was until the lady left the stage and someone else

took the lead behind her.

Veneer froze.

“oh my god.” he said out loud. you appeared at the

front of the stage, backup dancers behind you. you

posed with confidence and gazed the crowd like you

owned it. he stood and stared like that’s what he was

born to do.

it was a magnificent performance.

As much as he adored Velvet and everything

she did was better than what anyone else

could do, he couldn’t say the same thing

right now.

he gazed and was lost in a trance; at the

way you danced, sung like you were holding

in a voice of gold since you were born and

controlled the audience with every striking

belt. this was probably the best show

Veneer has ever seen, and his heart

squeezed, wondering how this girl he swore

he knew ended up being someone

completely different.

after your performance, Veneer felt as if something

apart of him bloomed. that was all he needed to see

to feel complete. his supposedly normal assistant

was actually a pop star that he casually never knew

about ?

he wanted to go see you. he wanted to run backstage

and ask a million questions, but he knew he couldn’t.

not right now. instead, he ran off somewhere where

people weren’t and pulled out his phone and dialled

Velvet. she picked up after a few rings.

“what Veneer.”

“hi sis, uhm, were you AWARE that y/n, our

ASSISTANT, is a pop star???”

there was silence.

“…what the hell are you talking about? also where are

you??”

“listen, vel, i….i followed y/n here. i was curious of

her outside life and i accidentally discovered that

she’s super famous , and i kid you not that she’s

almost as famous as WE ARE. i’m bringing you here

tomorrow.”

“uhm. sure.” she sounded unsure.

“okay. i’m coming home.” he hung up and looked at

the stage one last time before leaving.

the next day…

after a long day of Veneer struggling to hide the face

that he knew about your “secret” , the time finally

came for Veneer to bring Velvet to your show. he

stood anxiously in their dressing room, picking at his

hands and clearing his throat repetitively. Velvet

noticed this as she was packing her things.

“uhm, what’s up with that? you’re the one that

wanted to bring me to her in the first place.” she

questioned, putting a hand on her hip as she

examined her brothers anxious gestures.

Veneer looked at her and suddenly stopped, running

his fingers through his hair.

“i-i don’t know what you’re talking about. let’s go?”

he tried to change the conversation. Velvet would’ve

protested but she kind of wanted to get this over

with, but of course she had to throw in a remark.

“you like her.”

Veneers heart pumped furiously as the thought was

put in his head.

“no. well.. no! velvet.” he became embarrassed by her

comment and suddenly wanted to disappear. she

laughed.

“you’re really bad at hiding your feelings. i’m your

sister, i would know.” she smirked and opened the

door. “move it.”

he shook his head and went out the door, Velvet

closing it behind him.

Veneer guided his sister to the underground tunnel-

ish place and she grimaced with her voice.

“oh my god, it’s like, damp in here. ew.” she

complained, pulling at the sweater that she wore.

Veneer wasn’t really listening. he was eagerly looking

around, wondering if he would spot you out and

about, hoping to have a conversation before you

performed.

they made themselves to the pit of the arena,

ushering off to the side so people wouldn’t look at them.

“it’s off putting that no one has noticed us yet.

almost upsetting,” Velvet said.

“maybe it’s the fact we don’t have three tubs of gel in

our hair right now?” Veneer replied, not meaning to

sound like a hard-ass but coming off as it anyway.

Velvet scoffed. “shut it.”

that’s when the people started flooding in, and

Velvets face went shocked.

“holy shit,” she whispered , looking around

frantically.

“there’s no way this is for y/n. she has ten times more

people than we do! ugh!” she became upset and

veneer blew air in his cheeks.

“that’s..what i told you.” he whispered to himself and

looked to the stage.

when the hundreds of people finally stopped coming,

Veneer knew this was the time. he could barely wait.

he was basically shaking in his boots, eager to see

you. to see you dance and steal the shine of the

stars. he couldn’t help but see you as the moon.

then, the lights went off,and Veneer nearly shrieked.

he felt like a fanboy to his own assistant; and he

didn’t know how to feel about that.

the announcer came on again, and that’s when the

lights came back on and he could see you, there,

with a gorgeous outfit and stunning makeup that

made you seem intimidating. he could’ve cried at

how beautiful you were, his heart throbbed in his

chest as he just wanted to climb on stage and join

you; steal your own show but make you the main

attraction.

Veneer was getting caught up with his thoughts the

entire performance, and the look on his sister’s face

was priceless. he couldn’t really tell if it was jealousy,

admiration or a combination of both. but in this

moment, he didn’t care what she thought , all he

wanted to do was watch and admire you.

there was a split moment when you were near the

edge of the stage, singing effortlessly like you always

do, and made direct eye contact with veneer.

the whole world stopped for both of you. Veneer was

lost in your eyes, you were clueless of why he was

here, but that butterfly feeling started in the pit of

your chest. you kept singing , didn’t miss a single

word, and carried on.

Veneer felt his face flush as he continued to stare like

a fool.

after another ground breaking performance, the

applause roared across the entire plot and you gave a

bow, giving Veneer a final look and thanking

everyone in your mic. heading backstage , Veneer

held the urge to run back as well, but he looked to

Velvet.

she was already looking at him, and her expression

was…soft.

“go, Ven.” she said, motioning her head towards the

backstage entrance.

he smiled at her. “thank you vel.”

he ran to the backstage, being able to sneak past the

guards and past the red curtains.

he stopped to look around and saw you stepping off

the stage stairs. you looked at each other.

‘she’s so beautiful in the dark.’ he thought to

himself, walking towards you and your mouth parted.

“veneer,” you started, trying to get words out of your

mouth while shaking your head. “you..you knew?

how? you brought velvet ?? why…why?” so many

thoughts came blurting out and Veneer took your

hand.

“i always knew. i knew you pursued something,

you’re the type of girl to do that.” he looked at you

with kind eyes, and you swallowed with a dry mouth.

“i..” you stopped, taking a deep breath, looking away

and looking back. “thank you, for showing up. that meant more than you really know. i didn’t tell in fear of trying to out run you and Vel. i’m sorry,” you explained, a slight panic in your voice, but Veneer sealed your worries with a gentle kiss to your hand.

“let me support you y/n. i want this for both of us.”

his words had an effect on your heart and you smiled

warmly. you brought his and your hand to your heart.

“ yeah. just you and me. oh, well, Velvet too.” both of

you shared a laugh.

FLASH

a bright light came from the backstage entrance ,

and paparazzi and kid ritz stood there with shocked

expressions on their faces.

“oh.” you both said in unison.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦

a/n: AHHH IDK IF THIS WAS TOO LONG OR NOT IM CHARACTER FOR VENEER HELP 😞 i apologize if this sucks lol but i had fun making it 💗 tysm for the support lately i love all of you + my dms are always open if any of u need a friend ! requests are open always unless said otherwise <3

#trolls veneer #trolls 3 #trolls band together #trolls #veneer x reader #velvet and veneer #oneshot #fanfic #trolls fandom #trolls fanfic #veneer fanart #anonymous #lexischocolatecoveredblueberries

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todaysdocument · 7 months

Text

Plaintiff Exhibit X, Letter of Consent for Lou Gehrig. U.S. District Court. Hillerich & Bradsby Company versus The Hanna Manufacturing Company, Inc.

Record Group 21: Records of District Courts of the United States Series: Equity Cases File Unit: Hillerich and Bradsby Co. vs Hanna Manufacturing Co.

[handwritten at top right] Lou Gehrig Plf [unclear: Ex] [deletion, unclear: N? W?] X [printed] 390 DEPARTMENT OF COMMERCE UNITED STATES PATENT OFFICE [T]o all persons to whom these presents shall come, Greeting: [portion of line hidden by ribbon] THIS I[S] [TO] CERTIFY that the annexed is a true copy from the records [portion of line hidden by ribbon] [word covered: in? of?] [t]his office [typed] of Letter of Consent, filed August 1, 1927, [portion of line hidden by ribbon] in th[e] [ma]tter of the [portion hidden by ribbon] [Tra]de Mark Registered by Hillerich & Bradsby Co., [portion hidden by ribbon] [No]vember 22, 1927, Number 235,598. [seal at left] [printing at right of seal] IN TESTIMONY WHEREOF I have hereunto set my hand and caused the seal of the Patent Office to be affixed, at the City of Washington, this [typed] seventeenth [printed] day of [typed] May [printed] , in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and thirty-three and of the Independence of the United States of American the one hundred and fifty-seventh. [printed below seal] ATTEST: [signature] D E Wilson [printed] Chief of Division. [signature at right] Thomas E. Robertson [printed] Commissioner of Patents. [small printing at bottom left] [unclear numbers: 11-5625] U. S. [unclear: GOVERNMENT] PRINTING [unclear] [unclear: numbers for year?]

[white on black background] [at top right] 391 [letterhead] HILLERICH & BRADSBY CO. INCORPORATED SOLE MANUFACTURERS OF THE CELEBRATED [picture of manufacturing plant] [bat design below picture] [in circle at left of picture] Office & Factory 725-731 South Preston Street [in circle at right of picture] None Genuine Without Our Trade Mark Stamped On Each Bat [below bat design] LOUISVILLE SLUGGER BASE BALL BATS [handwritten at right] N. Y. Amer. [handwritten at left] $25[superiors, underscored]50 - 10/15/23 [crossed out: LOUISVILLE. KY.] [handwritten below] New York Oct 15/1923 [typed] For a valuable consideration, the receipt of which I hereby acknowledge, I, the undersigned, hereby agree to give to Hillerich & Bradsby Co., Incorporated of Louisville, Kentucky, the sole and exclusive rights to use my name and photograph on Base Ball Bats and in advertising same and it can be registered a their Trade Mark. [signature at right] Henry Louis Gehrig [printed] Witness: [signature] Walter C Pipp [signature at right] "Lou" Gehrig [section cut out or superimposed on first of several blank lines below] [handwritten at left] [unclear: Dic] [unclear: ??d] 10/27/23. [unclear: ?r?t] Schmitz Mfg. Co. 10/25/23. [handwritten at right] 252844 [printed at bottom] "USERS OF LOUISVILLE SLUGGER BATS ARE MEMBERS OF BASEBALL'S HALL OF FAME."

#archivesgov #October 15 #1923 #1920s #baseball #lou gehrig #ny yankees #louisville slugger

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carlosfruitsnacks · 2 years

Text

"blank space"

summary:

— Carlos had everything he ever wanted and needed, money, fame, you name it. But there was a void inside of him that kept nagging him. Until you came into his life and filled that blank space, is it going to be forever, or is it's gonna go down in flames?

genre:

— fluff to angst, aged up, & modern au

notes:

— female reader. I do not speak fluent Spanish and all of the Spanish here is translated from google, feel free to correct me.

warning/s:

— mentions of violence and obsessive behavior

a/n:

— alright, this has been stuck in my drafts for a looooooong time, this is inspired by Our Last Night's cover of Blank Space, pure Carlos energy highly recommend you guys listen to it while reading this.

The annoying sound of silence merely gave any comfort within these halls. Everything has been eerily quiet for too long. To be in the middle of the woods, on your private property, within the walls of your mansion, maybe the recipe for insanity. But not for Carlos Madrigal, a man who achieved everything he wanted.

Carlos looked like the world was in the palm of his hand. The man had everything one would imagine. Wealth and power, all that business. He owned a lot of properties and made money on a daily basis. His meals would be often warm and fresh, and he was never bored considering the number of things he can do with the amount of rich he has, and he's young. Carlos Madrigal was a young and wealthy man with all the time in the world.

However, during the span of his peak, a tiny void in him began growing. The irritating unsatisfaction came to grow each second of the day, reckoning him bored. It was ridiculous really, he had the time and money yet he has become bored. It comes to show that having everything can only get you so far.

Carlos was looking for something, anything exciting. To replace this blank space inside of him, to fill his empty page. Carlos knew he was smart but not enough to figure out why he was this way. Eventually, the change he ached for so long arrived.

The man saw it, from his window. A yellow Cadillac sped into his property. Carlos straightens his collar and carefully brushed his curls out of his face. A smile erupts in his face when he saw a gorgeous young woman step out of the vehicle, all dolled up and ready for his eyes to see up close. Carlos hurried downstairs to greet her.

You walked into the mansion of a man you met online. You weren't sure why you began there but you were surprised to find yourself getting here. It was a normal Saturday night when a man DMed you on Instagram. From stalking his profile, you smelled the money from the pictures he posted on his page. You made the assumption that he was just a bored and annoying rich guy but it turned out he was interesting. A mysterious guy with history, he got your attention. So after getting to know him through a series of messages and video calls, you two agreed to finally meet each other in person.

With twinkling eyes, you admired the chandelier inside the mansion. You gawked at the walls and expensive furniture inside. The interior made you feel so small and insignificant, it felt like the entire mansion can swallow you whole. Nevertheless, you don't let yourself be intimidated.

"Glad you can make it, [Name] [Surname]"

You gasped to see the one and only Carlos Madrigal standing on top of the staircase, peering down at you with those glistening eyes. You gulped as you watch him get down the stairs. Dear lord, he was hot. Perfect curls, captivating eyes, and a sly smirk. You feel your knees go weak. His attire was polished from head to toe, wearing a maroon tuxedo and pitch-black shoes. Carlos comes to take your hand and kiss the back of your palm, your skin tingled by this.

"I'm...I'm thrilled to be here, Carlos Madrigal"

"Your name sounds perfect for the blank space I've saved for you"

You raised a brow at the random statement by this but you assumed it was just him trying to flirt with you so you smiled at him.

"I'm assuming you're starving after your long trip to my place. Let's have lunch shall we?"

Carlos invited. He takes you to his enormous dining room with various food on the table already prepared. There were seats only at the ends of the table as you two sat across from each other. The food was scrumptious! You smiled and created a conversation with Carlos, who seemed to be enjoying himself more than you.

After the delightful lunch, Carlos insisted on taking you to experience his vinyl collection. The man had a versatile and impressive taste in music. You laughed when he went to drag you towards him for a dance, he acted so sweet to you. Swaying you side to side like a princess. Trying to have more fun, you asked him to go ride a bike inside the mansion, Carlos was too happy to say no.

You squealed when you chased each other down the halls on your bikes, careful not to knock down any expensive decoration. After the chaotic activity, you two tried some artistry. Carlos begged you to let him paint you, so you agree. It was more than an hour of you sitting still as he painted a live portrait of you. For some reason, you never questioned why he did it because the thrilled smile on his face had you distracted.

The plans for your stay were extended for a week because you found yourself enjoying the once-in-a-lifetime luxury. After getting breakfast, Carlos comes to show you around his property, he even brought his pet Dobermans with him. His whole property was astronomically huge, it looked endless and like it offered everything. There were gardens, fountains, and a lot of places to waste time. You change into fancy clothes at lunch because he took you to go horseback riding, it was crazy to know the man owned horses too.

Carlos can feel the void inside of him slowly getting filled by every second he spends with you. He chased you around with that beautiful dress of yours, the smile on your face making his heart beat excitedly in his chest. Carlos felt like he was actually living. So, as he grinned and caught you in his arms, he decided that he can spend forever like this.

By the time you took a break, Carlos discreetly hung the framed painting of you in one of the hallways. He gazed at the breath-taking portrait of you, the smile on his face was so wide it made his jaw hurt. You looked so perfect like that, on his wall for him to admire for times to come. The emotions he had by just looking at your face were bursting within him, he wanted more of it.

As the sun began to set, you and Carlos found yourselves holding each other under the gazebo. You were unsure why but you wanted to kiss him so bad. He had you around his finger and you adore it, you wanted to live with him in his sanctuary for eternity. The moment arrives as you pressed your lips against Carlos' sharing a tender kiss as it slowly becomes passionate. He licks your lips and soon enough your tongues danced together in harmony. You whispered after pulling away.

"I love you"

"I love you, too. Very much, querida"

Carlos breathlessly whispered back. Amongst the trees, after sharing a passion-fueled kiss, you giggled and dragged him to a tree. You asked him for his pocket knife and he reluctantly agrees. Carlos watches in astonishment as you started carving a heart on the tree with your names on it. His heart fluttered when you smiled and returned his pocket knife.

"There. Now, we belong together"

"That's kinda cheesy"

"Oh, don't act like you don't love it, Carlos"

"How about I kiss that pretty lips of yours to give you a better reminder, [Name]"

A relationship between you and Carlos was born. Your week's stay turned into a month. You spent your time with Carlos around his mansion, kissing and holding each other. This was the happiest you've ever been. It really seemed like you were on top of the world with him. Carlos was enjoying this more than you can ever imagine. A smile never left his features, he'd kiss your lips harder and harder, claiming a part of your soul every time his lips would move on yours.

You were his queen and he was your king, the perfect fantasy, a happily ever after. If only that were the case. Carlos noticed your increasing time on your phone, when eating, and before bed. His mind starts to itch in horrible ways. He needed to find out what are you doing there typing. Carlos dreaded imaging you talking to someone else behind his back.

So, he did what he had to do to silence his worried thoughts. Carlos wanted to be wrong, he wanted his suspicions to be debunked. You were his and his only. You fucking kissed him first and fucking carved both of your names on a tree inside a heart. You've got to be sick for fooling him.

: When are you coming home?

: I miss you

Me: I'm leaving soon

Me: Please wait a little longer

: Okay

Me: ily

: ily too

Carlos' eyes felt wet, his breath hitched as he watched the screen. He silently shuts off your phone and leaves it where he found it. His greatest fear came true, you were backstabbing him. You went ahead to make this love story only to betray him behind the scenes.

Oh no no no no no

The void in his chest was beginning to return, heat was bubbling in his stomach. What the fuck was this? He treated you greatly and this was what you're returning to him? Carlos hissed as his breath turned shallow, he gripped his hair and cussed. You were his! How many fucking kisses do you want for you to be reminded? What the fuck do you want from him? Money? You could've said something because he was willing to provide it for you.

Carlos wasn't able to control himself when he saw you at dinner, his anger got the best of him. Every attempt of you making a joke, trying to cheer him up never did, he was in too deep. Of course, you got upset.

"Carlos, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"I should be asking you that, [Name]"

"What? Okay, what did I do?"

"You should know by now. I guess being on your phone too much made you fucking stupid"

Your mouth turned agape by his words. You stand from your seat and threw the napkin aside, not wanting to start an argument. But Carlos stops you from leaving by grabbing your arm and towering over you.

"Ca-Carlos?"

"What? Playing dumb, darling?"

He growled. Your eyes watch him gain power over you as he grabbed both of your arms and pulled you dangerously close to him.

"Tell me, am I the only one you say 'I love you' to?"

"Wh-what do you me-mean-"

"Hey, answer me, amor. Use that pretty fucking mouth of yours!"

"Pl-please Carlos! I don't know what you mean!"

"Oh, you know what I mean, hun. Those texts, your eyes on the phone when it should be on me"

Your stomach dropped by this. Realization comes kicking in. The truth came to haunt you back. You never told Carlos you already had a lover, you never had the courage to. You were just so enamored by him and his riches. He bewitched you before you can say a word. You pursed your lips and averted your eyes away from him in guilt. Carlos scoffs.

"I fucking knew it"

"...I was really planning to tell you but-"

"Just fucking shut up, please"

"Carlos..."

"Don't make me make the fucking tables turn, [Name]!"

Carlos shouted. You try to suppress your fear by scowling at him. The least he can do was let you say a word or explain. You see him grip the roots of his hair and pacing in circles.

"Oh my god, who is he?"

"My...my-"

"Fuck, I don't wanna know. Dios, [Name], you fucked me over"

"I'm sorry..."

"I gave you everything you can dream of, we could've had it all but you fucked me over!"

He screamed, hysterically. You were getting tired of the argument and also ashamed for being dishonest, you decided to turn around and leave. But before you can exit the door, Carlos grabs the nearest expensive flower vase and throws it at you, merely hitting you. With a gasp, you turn to cuss him out but he grabs the sides of your face and pulled it close to his.

"I know you're gonna come back each time you leave [Name]"

"Carlos what the fuck-"

"Oh darling, I'm a fucking nightmare dressed like a daydream"

With those haunting words, Carlos releases you as he watched you flee upstairs and lock yourself in your bedroom. You sobbed as you hear glass shattering and objects breaking from outside your door, followed by cries laced with fury.

With each passing day, he made your stay like a living hell. First, he threw your phone into a fountain in front of your eyes. He'd cuss at you and destroy your belongings, mostly setting your things on fire. He went berserk every time he would see you.

One time, you were trying to hide from him when you passed by a hallway you'd never seen before. Your heart dropped to see the paintings displayed on the walls. They were all portraits of people, but they were heavily vandalized and abused. One painting had nasty scratch marks and another had an ax stuck to its face. The color drained from your face when you saw your own portrait, painted on the day he first met you, it was all torn up and a knife was stuck to the canvas. The horror brought a shiver down your spine, these were paintings of all Carlos' ex-lovers. All of a sudden you bolted to your room and collected anything that was spared from Carlos' destruction.

The man was barely coping after finding out you lied to him. He was furious, not because of you but it happened again. You weren't the first to come to his mansion and make him fall in love. He had way too many to count, all of them left and told him he was insane. They would come to fill this blank space in him only to tear him apart after, he thought it wouldn't happen again after his first and second exes, but it seemed like a constant loop of finding people not loving him back. Carlos was sick and tired of it, he poured all of his efforts only to be wasted.

What brought a disgusting flavor to his mouth is that Carlos still loved you after the shit you did, that made you different from his ex-lovers. You literally carved your names into a tree, nobody has ever done that before. He still fucking loved you for it. He still wanted to kiss and hold you. He didn't want you to leave, he wanted you so bad. Carlos needed you here with him forever.

You rushed with your suitcase to your car only to find Carlos sprinting to your precious yellow Cadillac with a golf club. You drop your things, wide-eyed, and screamed.

"CARLOS NO!"

He doesn't listen as he smashed the headlights of your car with his golf club. You shrieked when Carlos began crying and destroying your windshield and the entire front of your car. He poured his fury out on your Cadillac. You sank down to your knees and began pleading for him to stop. It felt like an hour when he completely ruins your car. Carlos looked over at you and saw the mascara streaming down your cheeks along with your tears. He drops the golf club and glared at you. He grabs you by the jaw and gives you one long and emotional kiss. But before you can kiss back, Carlos pulls away with a nonchalant expression and red eyes, he whispered.

"Get out before I make you stay"

You scrambled up to your feet, not bothering to retrieve your belongings out of fear. Fortunately, your car was still functioning, so with one last look at Carlos, you mouthed 'I'm sorry', before speeding out of his property. The image of him staring blankly at you longingly will always haunt you in your dreams.

A red Ferrari pulls into the driveway, a woman steps out dragging her expensive dress outside. The first she noticed was a cut tree nearby, it was odd to see it stand alone compared to all the uncut trees. She walks into the mansion and looked in awe. The place was glimmering like the stars in the night sky. Her eyes land on the staircase to see a man dressed in maroon, with a smirk plastered on his face.

"Ah, I'm assuming you're Carlos Madrigal"

Carlos chuckled at the woman as he goes down to meet her face to face, he takes her hand and kisses the back of it. She watched him in bewilderment, blushing.

"Great to finally meet you, Nadia Cordona"

"...Likewise"

"Your name sounds perfect for the blank space I've saved for you"

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sofiamantegafan110 · 5 months

Text

NEW X-MEN EPISODE 6

EPISODE 6- MURDER MYSTERY AT XAVIER'S

THE USS O’HALLAHAN IS A SUPER YACHT, USED TO HOST THE FAMED CHICAGO SINGER AND SEDUCTRESS, CESSILY O’HALLAHAN’S MOST EXCLUSIVE SHOWS. RIGHT NOW, IT PLIES THE WATERS OF LAKE MICHIGAN WITH A BEVY OF EXCLUSIVE CLIENTS ABOARD.

CUT TO THE MAIN PERFORMANCE HALL, A LAVISH AND SPLENDID ROOM WITH A SPARKLING CRYSTAL CHANDELIER THAT HANGS ABOVE THE CENTER OF THE ROOM WITH DINETTE TABLES LITTERING THE FLOOR, ALONG WITH SEMI-PRIVATE BOOTHS ALONG THE EDGES. THE VIPS ARE ABLE TO SIT UP IN BALCONIES PLACED ABOVE THE OTHERS WITH ALL OF THIS, OF COURSE, FACING THE ORNATE STAGE WITH ITS HEAVY MAROON CURTAINS AND ROBUST MOOD LIGHTING. FRAMED PORTRAITS LINE THE WALLS AND THE TABLES ARE SET WITH REAL SILVER AND CRYSTAL.

CUT TO THE BACKSTAGE OF THE THEATER, WHICH IS A BIT MORE SUBDUED. A ROW OF MIRRORS AND VANITIES LINE ONE WALL WITH ONE IN PARTICULAR BEING LARGER AND SET APART FROM THE OTHERS, DECORATED WITH THE FLOWERS OF CESSILY’S ADMIRERS. HER PURSE SITS ATOP IT, ALONG WITH A FEW DRAWERS, SOME LOCKED, SOME NOT, THAT HOLD THE THINGS A SUPERSTAR NEEDS TO GET READY. A RACK OF COSTUMES IS LOCATED ON THE OPPOSITE WALL, AND A FEW TRUNKS BENEATH THEM.

CUT TO THE HALLWAY, RATHER SHORT AND NONDESCRIPT. IT HAS SOME PAINTINGS HERE AND THERE ALONG ITS LENGTH, AT LEAST ONE OF THEM WORTH ITS WEIGHT IN GOLD. BEYOND THAT AND THE PLUSH CARPETING, IT MOSTLY JUST CONNECTS ALL THE QUARTERS AND STATEROOMS ON THIS LEVEL, AS WELL AS THE ENGINE AND ELECTRICAL ROOMS, WITH A STAIRWAY THAT LEADS UP ON DECK AND THE BRIDGE.

THE CREW’S QUARTERS CONSIST OF EIGHT BEDS AND A LOCKER AT THE END OF EACH. A SMALL DOOR LEADS TO A LITTLE STATEROOM FOR THE SHIP’S CAPTAIN, WHERE THE BACKUP NAVIGATIONAL PLOTTERS ARE STREWN ACROSS THE DESK. THERE’S A SMALL BOOKCASE THERE, AS WELL AS A LOCKED STORAGE TRUNK AND A LOCKER WITH UNIFORMS IN IT.

CESSILY’S STATEROOM IS LARGER THAN ANY OTHER LIVING SPACE, NATURALLY. THE MASTER SUITE CONSISTS OF TWO ADJOINING ROOMS. THE FIRST ONE LEADS INTO A SMALL OFFICE AREA WITH A DESK NEATLY ARRANGED WITH PAPERS, BOOKS, AND LEDGERS, A FEW COMFORTABLE CHAIRS AND A COUCH PLACED ALONG ONE WALL. THE SECOND ROOM IS THE BOUDOIR WITH A LARGE SOFT BED, A SPACIOUS CLOSET, A LITTLE BATHROOM ON THE SIDE AND SOME PERSONAL PICTURES AND SHELF SPACES IN THE BEDROOM ITSELF.

THE CABINS OF THE GUESTS ARE ALL PRETTY SIMPLE, AND THERE’S ONE FOR EACH GUESTS. WHAT SECRETS HIDE WITHIN THEM? WE MAY NEVER KNOW! EACH ONE IS TASTEFULLY DECORATED WITH A SMALL LOCKER FOR PERSONAL EFFECTS, A SINGLE, BUT COMFORTABLE, BED, A VERY SMALL SHELF, AND A READING LIGHT.

CUE INTRO AND CREDITS

THE XAVIER SCHOOL FOR GIFTED YOUNGSTERS PRESENTS… A MURDER MYSTERY PARTY: MURDER ON LAKE MICHIGAN! IT ALL BEGINS ONE CALM AND STARRY NIGHT…

NAMELY THE ROARING TWENTIES, ABOARD A CRUISE SHIP ON LAKE MICHIGAN NEAR THE TAIL-END OF PROHIBITION.

ALL THE PARTICIPANTS ARE DRESSED IN PERIOD-APPROPRIATE CLOTHING, AND YET LOOK OTHERWISE LIKE THEMSELVES IN THE PERFORMANCE HALL OF THE CRUISE SHIP. AT THE CENTER STAGE IS CESSILY O’HALLAHAN HERSELF, LOOKING A LOT LIKE CESSILY KINCAID IF SHE HAD A 1920’S COIF AND SHORT CURLY HAIR WITH BICEP-LENGTH OPERA GLOVES AND A KILLER DRESS THAT SHIMMERS IN THE LIGHT WHENEVER SHE MOVES.

SITTING FARTHER AWAY FROM THE OTHERS IS TALIA RICHEAUVILLE (PLAYED BY NOCTURNE), WHOSE EXPRESSION SHIFTS TO SOMETHING VERY MYSTERIOUS. SHE HAS AN EYE PATCH OVER ONE EYE, EVEN THOUGH SHE DOESN’T NEED ONE, AND SHE’S DRESSED IN A LONG BLACK COAT WITH AN ELEGANT CANE THAT SHE HOLDS CONFIDENTLY IN ONE HAND.

GREEN-SKINNED AND MUCH TOO YOUNG TO BE A SHIP’S CAPTAIN IS VICTOR STANLEY (PLAYED BY ANOLE), WHO WATCHES THE PERFORMANCE WITH CURIOUS EYES. HIS CAPTAIN’S HAT IS TUCKED UNDER ONE ARM AS HE CUTS A PLEASING FIGURE IN HIS WHITE UNIFORM, THE EPAULETS AND TAILORED WAIST ACCENTUATING HIS CASUALLY SCULPTED BUILD.

BRIAN NICHOLS (PLAYED BY TAG), DRESSED IN BEIGE SUSPENDERS AND A STRAW BOATER HAT, KEEPS HIS FOCUS ON THE SILVER-SKINNED SINGER AS SHE PERFORMS. THOUGH HER VOCALS TUG ON THE HEARTSTRINGS OF SEVERAL GUESTS, HIS ATTENTION IS PURELY PRACTICAL AS HE GRADES EVERY NOTE, ALLOWING HIMSELF TO SMILE WHEN SHE FINISHES.

ROXY SINERO (PLAYED BY BLING!) SPORTS A SLEEVELESS BLACK FLAPPER DRESS THAT REACHES TO ABOUT HER KNEES. THE STEREOTYPICAL IMAGE IS SLIGHTLY RUINED BY THE AMETHYST SKIN, BUT SHE MAKES UP FOR IT BY CASTING A GRUMPY FROWN IN RANDOM DIRECTIONS. SHE’S NOT PARTICULARLY HAPPY TO BE HERE, BUT HERE SHE IS.

A CIGAR IS CLUTCHED BETWEEN THE INDEX AND MIDDLE FINGERS OF CLARICE LUCIANO (PLAYED BY BLINK)’S RIGHT HAND, AMIDST A SELECTION OF RINGS MADE OF SILVER, GOLD, AND DIAMOND. A FEDORA IS TUGGED DOWN OVER HER EYES, HER PERFECTLY TAILORED GREY PINSTRIPE SUIT HAVING BROADER SHOULDERS THAT ONE MIGHT EXPECT. HER HAIR IS CUT SHOULDERLENGTH FOR THE OCCASION AND A LILY TUCKED INTO THE LAPEL OF HER SUITCOAT, ALONG WITH A KILLER GLEAM IN HER EYES.

THE ALISTAIR SISTERS (PLAYED BY THE STEPFORD CUCKOOS) ARE WATCHING THE SHOW AND ALMOST SILENTLY MURMURING AMONGST THEMSELVES. WHAT? THEY’RE NOT JEALOUS. YOU ARE JEALOUS. OF THEM. BECAUSE THEY’RE GONNA BE STARS! DRESSED IN SLIGHTLY IDENTICAL EVENING WEAR, THEY SIT AT A TABLE NEAR THE STAGE, BIDING THEIR TIME LIKE LIONS CIRCLING THEIR PREY.

JOSHUA SILAS (PLAYED BY ELIXIR) IS CLAD IN A CRISP PINSTRIPED NAVY SUIT WITH PLEATED PANTS AND A SUIT JACKET WITH A CLEAN WHITE SHIRT BENEATH AND A CRIMSON VEST. HIS BLACK TIE IS UNDONE AND A WIDE-BRIMMED HAT MATCHES HIS SUIT AS HE WATCHES IN A SURLY FASHION.

MEGAN MATTHEWS (PLAYED BY PIXIE) DOESN’T TURN TO HER NOTEPAD ON HER TABLE, WHERE SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO TAKE A RECORD OF CESSILY’S PERFORMANCE. HER STYLED CLOCHE HAT IS ANGLED JAUNTILY, AND SHE WEARS A METICULOUSLY-CONSTRUCTED OUTFIT THAT EVOKES A MONASTIC ROBE. GOLD GREEK KEY WEAVES OVER HER BLACK SHEATH DRESS AS RAINBOWS PIROUETTE HER SHARP-LOOKING WINGS.

JULIAN BRICKMAN (PLAYED BY HELLION) IS HERE WITH A PURPOSE. PEOPLE BUY MONEY FROM HIM, PEOPLE GIVE HIM THE MONEY BACK. HIS INTERESTS ARE ON THE LINE TONIGHT AND HE WANTS HIS COMEUPPANCE. DRESSED IN A FINE BLACK TWO-PIECE SUIT ACCOMPANIED WITH A BLACK VEST AND EVEN A POCKET WATCH, HE SITS AT A TABLE IN THE CORNER, KEEPING HIS EYES ON ALL INTERESTED PLAYERS.

SOFIA LORDER (PLAYED BY WIND DANCER), THE MAYOR OF THIS LITTLE OPERATION THEY CALL A TOWN, IS DRESSED IN A WHITE UNISEX SUIT WITH THIN-TIPPED BOOTS, A FIGURE-HUGGING VEST, A LONG-TAILED SUIT, AND A WESTERN-STYLED TIE AS SHE LOOKS FIERCE AND DEFIANT. LORDERS HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO GO FANCY, SENDING THEIR CHILDREN OUT OF TOWN TO STUDY IN THE BIG CITY WHERE THEY LEARN AMONG THE BIG SHOTS, BUT SOFIA HAS RETURNED HOME EARLIER THAN EXPECTED WHEN HER FATHER PASSED AWAY, ALSO EARLIER THAN EXPECTED. SHE SURVEYS THE AREA WITH IN-CHARACTER COLDNESS THAT HIDES OUT-OF-CHARACTER GIDDINESS.

FINALLY, THE SHOW ENDS AND CESSILY SASHAYS BACKSTAGE WITH A HAND ON HER HIP. IMMEDIATELY, ROXY STANDS AND FOLLOWS HER, WITH TALIA MAKING HER WAY TOWARD THE EXIT, VICTOR GREETING PASSENGERS WHILE USING OVERLONG WORDS AND OCCASIONALLY SLIPPING INTO AN UNCONVINCING ENGLISH ACCENT, BRIAN MOVING TO MEET CESSILY BACKSTAGE BUT UNAWARE OF ROXY, THE ALISTAIR SISTERS STORMING OFF WITH MEGAN TRYING TO GET AN INTERVIEW FROM THEM, AND JOSH MEANDERING NONCHALANTLY TOWARD THE HALLWAY AND THE OUTSIDE DECK BEYOND WITH JULIAN FOLLOWING THE GRUFF BOOTLEGGER TO GET A WORD.

SOFIA TURNS TO DON CLARICE AND SAYS THAT SHE’S SURPRISED TO FIND HER ON THE UPPER DECKS AND NOT BETTING ON THE ONGOING BLOODSPORTS AT THE FURNACE. CLARICE SMIRKS, SAYING THAT BLOODSPORTS ARE ONE THING, BUT SHE WANTED TO HEAR HER GAL SING A LITTLE TUNE. SOFIA NODS BEFORE MOVING BACKSTAGE TO DO THE HANDSHAKES AND CONGRATULATIONS SORT OF THINGS THAT GOOD MAYORS DO.

MEANWHILE, CELESTE TURNS AS MEGAN ASKS HER IF THEY WERE THE ONES DOING THOSE JAWDROPPING VOCALS AT REHEARSALS EARLIER TODAY. SHE NODS, SAYING THAT THAT WAS DEFINITELY THEM AS THE OTHER SISTERS HEAD BACKSTAGE. MEANWHILE, TALIA TRIES TO STIFLE A LAUGH WHILE IN THE HALLWAY AS SHE REMEMBERS CLARICE’S CIGAR AND FEDORA. AT ANOTHER PART OF THE HALLWAY, JOSH TURNS TO FACE JULIAN AS VIC JOINS THE CONVERSATION, TELLING THE GOLD ENTREPRENEUR THAT HE DOESN’T WANT ANY TROUBLE ON HIS SHIP.

MEANWHILE, CESSILY IS SITTING IN FRONT OF HER MIRROR WHEN ROXY ENTERS. SHE TELLS THE CRYSTAL GIRL THAT SHE’S SURPRISED TO SEE HER BEFORE SAYING THAT SHE SHOULDN’T BE THERE. ROXY FOLDS HER ARMS ACROSS HER CHEST, ASKING IF SHE REALLY SHOULDN’T BE THERE OR IF CESSILY DOESN’T WANT HER THERE. SUDDENLY, BRIAN AND SOFIA ENTER AND CESSILY TELLS HER MANAGER TO ESCORT ROXY OUT BEFORE NOTICING SOFIA AND TELLING BRIAN TO FETCH HER A DRINK.

SUDDENLY, THE LIGHTS GO OUT. THOSE BACKSTAGE HEAR MOVEMENT, A SCUFFLE, AND SOMETHING HITTING THE GROUND AND SHATTERING. THERE’S A GASP, PLEADING AND PLAINTIVE, AND THEN A FLESHY THUMP AS CESSILY LETS GO OF SOFIA’S SHOULDER AND SOMETHING HITS THE FLOOR.

SUDDENLY, THE LIGHTS FLICKER ON AND SOFIA, ROXY, AND BRIAN STAND AROUND THE CORPSE OF CESSILY O’HALLAHAN! BLOOD POOLS ON THE CARPET AROUND THE KNIFE PUSHED INTO HER BACK. MINDEE AND PHOEBE GASP AS THEY ENTER AND THE LATTER SCREAMS THAT THERE’S BEEN A MURDER, AND ROXY LETS OUT HER BEST DAMSEL-Y SCREAM AS SHE DROPS TO HER KNEES AND ASKS WHY THE DEAD SINGER COULDN’T LOVE HER.

EMMY AWARD WINNING ACTRESS, ROXY IS NOT.

NEARBY FLOATS A BLUISH, SEMI-TRANSPARENT CESSILY KINCAID, WEARING THE SAME CLOTHES AS HER CHARACTER, BUT GHOOOOOOOOSTLY~!

SOFIA: SINERO! HOW COULD YOU?!

YES, SOFIA THROWS ROXY UNDER THE BUS. ROXY, MEANWHILE, ROXY SAYS THAT IF ANYONE DID THIS, IT WAS PROBABLY HER. BRIAN TELLS ROXY TO GET AWAY FROM THE BODY, AND ROXY YELLS AT HIM TOO, SAYING THAT HE DIDN’T CARE ABOUT CESSILY AND JUST WANTED TO MAKE MONEY OFF HER.

GHOST CESSILY: YES. YEEEEES. TURN UPON ONE ANOTHER…

IN THE HALLWAY, JULIAN AND JOSH GASP UPON HEARING THE SCREAMS OF MURDER. VIC TELLS THEM THAT HE KNOWS THEY WERE BOTH THERE WITH HIM, SO IT COULDN’T HAVE BEEN ONE OF THEM. SUDDENLY, TALIA APPEARS OUT OF SOFIA’S STATEROOM AND VIC TURNS TO HER, ASKING WHAT SHE WAS DOING IN THERE, AND ALLOWING JOSH AND JULIAN TO RUN BACKSTAGE. TALIA SAYS THAT SHE JUST GOT A BIT TURNED AROUND AND TELLS VIC THAT SHE’S GOING OVER TO HER ROOM NOW. SHE THEN HEADS OFF INTO ANOTHER ROOM THAT VIC SAYS ALSO ISN’T HERS.

VIC STARTS TO WALK OVER IN TALIA’S DIRECTION AS SHE SLIPS INTO JOSH’S ROOM, BUT HE PAUSES BRIEFLY, GLANCING UP AND DOWN THE HALLWAY. VIC THEN LEAVES JOSH’S DOOR AND JOGS OVER TO CESSILY’S ROOM, OPENING IT WITH THE MASTER KEY AND RUSHING INSIDE. CLARICE FOLLOWS HIM, SAYING THAT SHE THINKS THEY BOTH HAVE THE SAME THOUGHT HERE.

BACKSTAGE, JOSH, JULIAN, CELESTE, AND MEGAN JOIN THE GROUP BACKSTAGE. JULIAN SHAKES HIS HEAD IN PITY WHILE SOFIA TELLS ROXY THAT THEY ALL KNOW CESSILY LEFT HER AT THE ALTAR. WHILE ROXY WAILS TO THE MAYOR OF MURDERVILLE THAT SHE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT THEY HAD, SOFIA MOVES OVER TO ONE OF THE MIRRORS AND PULLS CURIOUSLY, REVEALING A SECRET DOOR BEHIND IT. JULIAN WASTES NO TIME GOING DOWN THERE, REQUESTING A WORD WITH BRIAN IN THE FUTURE.

ROXY: NO WAY AM I GOING DOWN THERE TO GET STABBED LIKE POOR CESSILY, THE LOVE OF MY LIFE! SOMEONE NEEDS TO MOVE HER SOMEWHERE PRIVATE! WE CAN’T JUST LEAVE HER LIKE THIS!

STEPFORDS: WE CAN’T MOVE THE BODY! WE SHOULD… YOU KNOW… INVESTIGATE! SURELY THERE ARE CLUES UPON HER PERSON!

WITH THAT, CELESTE TELLS PHOEBE TO EITHER GET FINGER PRINT DUST OR GATHER UP EVERYONE ELSE. PHOEBE NODS AND STYLISHLY STALKS OFF WHILE SOFIA TELLS ROXY TO STAY CRYING OVER HER BELOVED OR COME DOWN AND AVENGE HER. SHE KNOWS WHAT SHE WILL DO AND DECIDES TO FIND THE CULPRIT, FOLLOWING JULIAN DOWN THE SECRET PASSAGE. ROXY GLARES AT HER, ASKING WHAT GOOD AVENGING WILL DO IF CESSILY’S DEAD.

BRIAN: YOU THINK YOU’RE SPECIAL BECAUSE YOU HAD A THING WITH CESSILY?! JOIN THE CLUB! SHE’S SCREWED HALF THE SHIP! I STUCK BY HER THROUGH IT ALL! SHE WAS MY GREATEST ACCOMPLISHMENT!

ROXY: CESSILY AND I HAD SOMETHING SPECIAL!

ROXY THEN LEAVES THE BACKSTAGE IN TEARS (SHE’S NOT ACTUALLY CRYING), WHILE BRIAN, JOSH, MEGAN, CELESTE, AND MINDEE BICKER AMONGST THEMSELVES.

AT CESSILY’S STATEROOM, VICTOR HUNCHES OVER THE RECENTLY DECEASED DIVA’S DESK. JUST AS HE NOTICES SOME KIND OF CONTRACT, HE LOOKS OVER AT CLARICE, SAYING THAT HE SUPPOSES THEY MIGHT HAVE THOUGHT ALONG SIMILAR AVENUES. (HE TRIES TO PRONOUNCE ‘AVENUES’ IN A SORT OF FRENCH ACCENT AND FAILS HORRIBLY) AND LOOKS BACK AT THE PAPER, SAYING THAT CESSILY SEEMS TO HAVE INTENDED TO CUT HER MANAGER OUT OF THE CONSIDERABLE PROFITS FROM HER REMARKABLE TALENT.

MEANWHILE, ALONG THE SECRET PASSAGEWAY, JULIAN NOTICES A SHIMMERING SOMETHING. HE LOOKS CLOSER AND SEES THAT IT’S A NECKLACE. HE THEN REACHES THE END OF THE PASSAGE AND PUSHES OPEN THE DOOR AT THE OTHER END, COMING INTO CESSILY’S STATEROOM WHERE DON CLARICE AND CAPTAIN VICTOR HAPPEN TO BE. CLARICE WONDERS WHAT HE’S DOING THERE AS SOFIA STEPS IN BEHIND HIM.

SUDDENLY, THE LIGHTS GO OUT. TALIA CAN BE SEEN STROLLING OUT OF JULIAN’S ROOM BEFORE THEY DO, BRIAN SUDDENLY MUTTERS THAT HE HAS TO GET OUT OF THERE, AND ROXY GIVES HER BEST HORROR MOVIE SCREAM BEFORE FLEEING TO THE DECK OF THE SHIP.

WHEN THE LIGHTS COME BACK ON, MEGAN MATTHEWS, ACE REPORTER, IS CLUTCHING HER THROAT ON THE GROUND, RED RUNNING BETWEEN HER FINGERS AS SHE STRUGGLES AND GASPS FOR AIR. BRIAN’S HAT LIES NEXT TO HER BESIDE THE KNIFE USED TO STAB CESSILY.

THE MURDERER HAS STRUCK AGAIN.

GHOST-CESSILY SCREAMS IN HER BEST ‘NOOOOO, JENNA!’ VOICE AS A TRANSLUCENT PIXIE ‘GHOST’ RISES FROM THE DEAD BODY. SHE WRAPS HER ARMS AROUND MEGAN IN A BIG HUG AND SQUEEZES HER EYES SHUT WITH A GRIN.

GHOST-CESSILY: OH, OUR POOR MEGAN MATTHEWS! SHE WAS ONTO THE HOTTEST SCOOP OF HER LIFE! WOE! WOOOOOE!

MEANWHILE, TALIA HEADS OVER TO THE CREW’S QUARTERS, MAKING HER WAY OVER TO THE ONE THAT READS CAPTAIN VICTOR STANLEY’S QUARTERS. AFTER COMMENTING THAT THAT’S A STUPID ASS NAME, SHE OPENS THE DOOR AND HEADS ON IN.

BACKSTAGE, JOSH DEMANDS EVERYONE (BASICALLY JUST THE CUCKOOS) SHOW THEIR HANDS AND THE SISTERS STARE AT HIM. CELESTE ASSUMES THAT THE KILLER WAS PROBABLY ONE OF THE PEOPLE WHO RAN OFF AND SAYS THAT FROM WHAT THEY’VE HEARD, CESSILY WAS GETTING AROUND LIKE SOME SORT OF TAWDRY BICYCLE. GHOST CESSILY GETS OUT A NOTEPAD, WRITING ‘DON’T FORGET THE BLOOD SPLATTER!’ WITH A FEATHER PEN.

MEANWHILE, TALIA LEAVES VICTOR’S QUARTERS WITH A TAP OF HER CANE. SHE WALKS OUT AND SEES PHOEBE HEADING BACK TO JOIN HER SISTERS FROM HER ERRAND, HOLDING A MAKEUP KIT AS THE ONLY THING SHE CAN FIND FOR FINGER-PRINT DUST.

IN THE STATEROOM, JULIAN NOTICES BRIAN IN THE HALLWAY AND SAYS THAT THEY NEED TO HAVE A WORD WHILE CLARICE NOTICES SOME PAPERS ON THE DESK AND SMIRKS, SAYING THAT IT SEEMS LIKE THEIR CAPTAIN HAS A CRUSH. SHE THEN SHOWS A SERIES OF LETTERS ADDRESSED TO CESSILY BY VICTOR AND ASKS HIM IF HE DIDN’T WANT ANYONE TO SEE THEM BECAUSE HE TOLD HER HE’D KILL EVERYONE ON THE SHIP FOR HER. SOFIA ‘OHS’ SLIGHTLY AS VIC LOOKS AT THE LETTER IN HIS HAND AND LOSES IT, HIS FACE GOING DARK GREEN.

HE THRUSTS THE LETTER AT CLARICE AND SAYS THAT THERE’S NOTHING ABOUT MURDERS. HE DOESN’T KNOW THAT FOR SURE AND HE’S SURE AS HELL NOT GONNA CHECK. SUDDENLY, TALIA LEANS IN AND SAYS THAT VIC WAS KISSING CESSILY BEFORE THE SHOW BEFORE HEADING BACK OUT INTO THE HALLWAY. VIC DEMANDS TO KNOW WHO SHE IS WHILE GHOST CESSILY BURSTS OUT LAUGHING, SENDING A TELEPATHIC SIGNAL TO VIC THROUGH THEIR PSYCHIC LINK SET UP BY THE CUCKOOS, SAYING THAT SHE DIDN’T KNOW VIC WOULD BE THE CAPTAIN.

SOFIA ARCHES HER BROW, COMMENTING ON THE TITILLATING SITUATION.

MEANWHILE, ON THE DECK OF THE USS O’HALLAHAN, ROXY LOOKS UP AT THE MOON, IGNORING THE SHOUTS AND CALLS FROM WITHIN THE SHIP.

ROXY: THE MOON SPLIT IN HALF AND STARS CRUMBLED. FALLING LIKE FIREWORKS INTO THE SEA. I WATCHED THE WORLD FALL APART, ON THE DAY THAT MY LOVE LEFT ME.

TALIA STOPS SHORT ON HER WAY UP TO THE DECK TO HEAR ROXY’S MONOLOGUE AS THE BLACK-CLAD CRYSTAL GIRL CLIMBS OVER THE RAILING OF THE DECK, YELLING TO THE STARRY SKY THAT SHE AND CESSILY WILL BE TOGETHER SOON.

THEN, SHE JUMPS OVERBOARD, INTO THE LAKE, NEVER TO BE HEARD FROM AGAIN.

TALIA WATCHES THE SITUATION BRIEFLY BEFORE GIVING A SHRUG AND HEADING RIGHT BACK DOWN THE HALLWAY TOWARD ROXY’S ROOM, ON HER OWN AGENDA.

IN THE STATEROOM, VIC ASKS SOFIA TO READ THE LETTERS AND TELL THEM OF THE APPARENT SCANDAL BEFORE INTERNALLY GRUNTING A BIT WHILE GHOST-CESSILY TELLS HIM THAT SHE GOT THOSE PASSAGES FROM THE FINEST OF ROMANTIC LITEROTICA. CLARICE JABS A FINGER AT VICTOR, ACCUSING HIM OF MAKING THE MOVES ON HER DAME BEFORE SAYING THAT SHE DOESN’T THINK ANYONE IS KILLING FOR LOVE HERE.

CLARICE: MOST PEOPLE KILL FOR MONEY. AND THE PERSON WHO STANDS TO MAKE THE MOST MONEY OUT OF ALL THIS? MY DAME’S MANAGER!

CESSILY CHUCKLES BEFORE TURNING OVER TO THE DRIPPING WET ‘GHOST’ OF ROXY. SHE LAUGHS AND HUGS HER GIRLFRIEND, SAYING THAT SHE’S TOO MUCH WHILE ROXY SAYS THAT IT’S ALL PART OF THE ACTING PROCESS. YOU HAVE TO BE DRAMATIC TO MAKE IT MORE INTENSE.

MEANWHILE, JOSH WALKS OUT OF THE BACKSTAGE ROOM TO FIND CLUES WHILE PHOEBE CHASES HIM, SAYING THAT HE CAN’T ABANDON THREE ELIGIBLE BACHELORETTES TO A MURDER. CELESTE HEADS TOWARDS THE STATEROOM WHILE MINDEE RUNS OFF DOWN THE HALL IN VAGUELY THE LAST DIRECTION SHE SAW ROXY GOING.

IN THE STATEROOM, AS SOFIA CONDUCTS HER OWN INVESTIGATION, VICTOR SHAKES HIS FIST AT CLARICE, SAYING THAT SHE ALWAYS TOOK CESSILY FOR GRANTED. CLARICE GLARES AT HIM, SAYING THAT CESSILY CHOSE WHO SHE WANTED IN THE END AND IT WASN’T HIM BEFORE VIC EXPLODES IN FAKE MELODRAMA, SAYING THAT CLARICE ONLY WISHES THAT SHE COULD HAVE LOVED HER LIKE HE DID AND NOW SHE’S LOST HER CHANCE. AS THEY ARGUE, BRIAN AND JULIAN WONDER WHO THE HELL TALIA’S SUPPOSED TO BE AND WHY SHE KEEPS GOING IN PEOPLE’S ROOMS. JOSH HEADS TOWARD THE HALLWAY WHILE THE STEPFORDS TRY TO GATHER EVERYONE.

GUESS WHAT?!

THE LIGHTS GO OUT.

A LOUD BANG COMES FROM THE STATEROOM FOLLOWED BY A THUMP. WHEN THEY COME BACK ON, DON CLARICE LUCIANO CLUTCHES HER CHEST, A REVOLVER LYING ON THE FLOOR. SHE WAS SHOT WITH HER OWN GUN! AND CELESTE IS STANDING IN THE DOORWAY, HAVING HEARD EVERYTHING VIC SAID.

GHOST CESSILY: J’ACCUSE! WHO COULD HAVE DONE THIS?!

AS GHOST CLARICE ENTERS, ROXY GIVES HER A SHOVE FOR STEALING HER GIRLFRIEND. ROXY LAUGHS AND ASKS IF THERE’S GHOST POPCORN AS MEGAN HIGH-FIVES HER. BEING IN THE ASTRAL PLANE (IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY GUESSED), CESSILY CREATES A JUMBO TUB OF EXTRA BUTTERY POPCORN AND HANDS IT TO CLARICE.

IN ROXY’S ROOM, TJ ASKS CESSILY IF SHE WINS AT SOME POINT. SHE SAYS THAT SHE FEELS LIKE PERSONAL GOALS ARE BEING MET HERE AND SHE FEELS LIKE IT’S TIME TO HOP ON HER JET SKI AND RIDE INTO THE SUNSET. CESSILY TELLS HER TO JUST JOIN THE SHENANIGANS, REMINDING HER THAT THEY DIDN’T REALLY HAVE ANY JET SKIS IN THE 1920’S, BUT SHE COULD PROBABLY STEAL A LIFE BOAT.

MEANWHILE, JOSH AND PHOEBE JOIN CELESTE, VIEWING CLARICE’S BODY. SOFIA BENDS DOWN BESIDE HER ‘DEAD’ GIRLFRIEND AND COMMENTS THAT SHE WILL MISS HER STUPID ACCENT. SHE CLOSES THE MAFIA DON’S EYES BEFORE GRABBING HER RIFLE AND POINTING IT AT VICTOR, TRYING TO ACT PARANOID.

SOFIA: THAT IS ENOUGH! I WILL NOT BE GOING DOWN WITH THIS PROVERBIAL SHIP! WHOEVER DID THIS BETTER COME OUT RIGHT NOW AND WE CAN DISCUSS TERMS, OR I WILL START SHOOTING! *TELEPATHICALLY* CESSILY, IS THIS WHAT YOU WASTE YOUR TIME ON WHILE YOU’RE ON THE INTERNET?

JULIAN AND BRIAN WALK IN ON SOFIA BRANDISHING A GUN AS MINDEE AND TJ JOIN THE GROUP. THE TRIPLETS HOLD THEIR HANDS UP AND PHOEBE ASKS HOW MANY BULLETS THE GUN HAS. SHE DEDUCES THAT WHOEVER DID THIS HAS A SECRET TO HIDE ABOUT CESSILY AND THEY MURDERED MEGAN BECAUSE SHE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO COULD FIGURE IT OUT. MINDEE THEN ACCUSES BRIAN OF KILLING CLARICE SINCE SHE WAS THE ONE WHO FIGURED OUT THAT HE WAS THE KILLER.

TJ: EH, IT’S PROBABLY THE BOOTLEGGER OR THE LOANSHARK. BOTH OF ‘EM. I DUNNO. I’VE BEEN BUSY.

JULIAN: ME? THE MAYOR IS THE ONE WITH THE GUN!

BRIAN QUICKLY TRIES TO DEFEND HIMSELF AGAINST THE TRIO’S CLAIM BUT JULIAN AND JOSH BOTH AGREE WITH THEM, SAYING THAT CESSILY INTENDED TO FIRE HIM. IT’S POSSIBLE THAT HE COULDN’T HANDLE IT AND DECIDED TO KILL HER TO EARN PROFIT FROM HER DEATH. IN THE BACKGROUND, VIC TRIES TO GRAB THE GUN FROM SOFIA AND GETS HIS HAND BITTEN IN THE PROCESS. AND OF COURSE, THE CASPER CREW IS JUST EATING THIS UP, WATCHING AND EATING THEIR GHOST POPCORN.

IN THE END, THEY REACH A LOGJAM. THEY CAN’T DECIDE WHO DID IT, BUT EVENTUALLY DECIDE THAT BRIAN, THE MANAGER, HAS A VERY CLEAR MOTIVE, AND PROOF OF SUCH. PLUS, HE WAS PRESENT OR NEARBY FOR EVERY MURDER. NOT TO MENTION POOR MEGAN WAS HOLDING HIS HAT AS SHE DIED.

WHEN THE POLICE ARRIVE THE NEXT MORNING, IT’S A TENSE STANDOFF OF GUESTS BRANDISHING KNIVES, CANDLESTICKS, AND AT LEAST ONE GUN AT EACH OTHER. BRIAN IS CARTED OFF INTO CUSTODY WHILE VIC IS TREATED FOR HIS SOFIA-INFLICTED “BITE WOUNDS”.

ROXANNE SINERO’S BODY WAS NEVER FOUND…

AND THE KILLER… WALKED FREE.

WE THEN ROLL FAKE CREDITS THAT SHOW THAT THE SCRIPT WAS WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY CESSILY AND THE SETTING WAS PROVIDED BY THE CUCKOOS THANKS TO THE ASTRAL PLANE. THEY ALSO SET UP A PSYCHIC LINK SO THE GUESTS COULD GIVE CESSILY THEIR FEEDBACK. WE THEN CUT OVER TO THE END CREDITS SCENE.

SAW-ESQUE FLASHBACKS SHOW THE STEPFORDS IMMEDIATELY STORMING OFF TO THE HALLWAY AND CESSILY’S STATEROOM. CELESTE WAS STOPPED BY MEGAN LEAVING MINDEE TO HEAD TO THE ELECTRICAL ROOM TO TURN OUT THE LIGHTS WHILE PHOEBE SNUCK IN AND MURDERED CESSILY O’HALLAHAN THROUGH THE SECRET PASSAGE THEY LEARNED ABOUT FROM CELESTE’S AFFAIR WITH CAPTAIN VICTOR.

THE GIRLS THEN RUSHED BACK TO THE SCENE OF THE CRIME FROM THE HALLWAY WITH MEGAN, WHO WAS NONE THE WISER. IT WAS THEN THAT THEY SENT PHOEBE OFF TO ‘GATHER FINGER-PRINT DUST’, ONLY FOR HER TO ONCE AGAIN SHUT OFF THE LIGHTS SO CELESTE COULD SLIT MEGAN’S THROAT AND MINDEE COULD PLANT BRIAN’S HAT ON HER, SINCE THEY’D DISCOVERED THAT IT WASN’T CESSILY THAT SUNK THEIR BUDDING CAREERS, BUT HER MANAGER, AND THEY KILLED THE WRONG PERSON! TO GET THEIR REVENGE, THEY PLANNED TO FRAME BRIAN.

ROXY OFFED HERSELF, LIKE A TOTAL BASKET CASE.

THEIR THIRD AND FINAL VICTIM WAS CLARICE. ONCE AGAIN, THEY SPLIT UP, PHOEBE HEADING OUT TO SHUT OFF THE LIGHTS AGAIN WHILE MINDEE SHOT THE DON, WHO WAS LOUDLY HEARD ACCUSING BRIAN JUST BEFORE HER DEATH! ONCE AGAIN, THEY ATTEMPTED TO FRAME BRIAN FOR THEIR CRIMES…

…AND IT WORKED.

WE THEN CUT OVER TO CESSILY’S ROOM AS CESSILY ASKS THE GROUP WHAT THEY THINK. THEY IMMEDIATELY GIVE OFF VARIOUS SOUNDS OF APPROVAL AS CESSILY TURNS BACK TO HER LAPTOP AND ADDS THE FINISHING TOUCH;

MURDER ON LAKE MICHIGAN

BY CESSILY KINCAID AND THE XAVIER SCHOOL THEATER DEPARTMENT.

A XAVIER’S SCHOOL PRODUCTION

~FIN~

#new x men #cessily kincaid #sofia mantega #clarice ferguson #megan gwynn #julian keller #josh foley #talia wagner #victor borkowski #brian cruz #murder mystery

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thorntonkrell-blog-blog · 7 months

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Everybody in Willowbrook, Connecticut was familiar with and fascinated by the the portrait of Edgar Blackwood that adorned the first floor of his mansion. The mansion now dilapitated, had long been the subject of local legend. The mansion itself was protected by the Connecticut Historical Society (CHS) as a national landmark. Over the years, many townsfolk under the supervision of the CHS had ventured inside Blackwood mansion to explore its hidden secrets. However none had ever dared to open the door that lead to the attic, where a mystery trunk had supposedly sat undisturbed for decades. The door was unlocked and could not be disturbed.

Megan Ball was a native of Willowbrook. Megan graduated from U Conn and even played some varsity basketball for the Lady under Hall of Fame coach Gene Auriema. Megan was known and loved in her hometown. She was a big a legend as Edgar Blackwood himself. Upon graduation, Megan began a career in investigative journalism which eventually led her to a job as executive producer for the popular series "Home Town Mysteries" which ran on the Discovery Channel.

Megan had produced and directed all seven shows from the first season of "Home Town Mysteries" when she asked for and received permission from the CHS to explore the Blackwood Mansion. The CHS had rejected many similar proposals but because of Megan's fame and background as a "townie", She received a green light. to attempt penetrate the attic and search for the legendary trunk and the "secrets" within.

One chilly evening in October, Megan and her team arrived in Willowbrook. Megan decided to make her first visit to the Mansion. She had a key to the front door. She went in by herself. She immediately encountered the famous portrait of Edgar Blackwood.

Blackwood had a lean and somewhat angular build, which added to his elegant and distinguished look his hair was neatly combed with a touch of gray. His eyes were sharp and piercing, typically blue or gray, which added to his striking and authoritative gaze. Blackwood had chiseled and well-defined facial features, with a strong jawline and a prominent nose all of which contributed to a calm and poised demeanor which could be either heroic or demonic.

Megan stood in front of the portrait, captivated by the presence of Edgar Blackwood. The image exuded an air of mystery, and she couldn't help but feel a connection with the man who had left such a mark on her hometown. She took out her camera and snapped a picture of the portrait, capturing the regal essence of the mansion's former owner. Blackwood seemed relieved rather than forbidding. Megan took his expression as a signal to continue her work s if Edgar had sensed that finally this was the person to whom he could reveal his treasures.

The next day, determined to uncover the secrets of the Blackwood Mansion, Megan made her way through its dimly lit hallways. She had brought with her a team of seasoned investigators, including a tech specialist named Luke and a locksmith named Tom. They had come prepared with a set of keys and tools, including a sturdy crowbar.

As they explored the mansion's ground floor, they discovered old books, furniture covered in dusty sheets, and remnants of a time long past. The walls seemed to whisper secrets of their own, echoing with the tales of those who had lived within these walls. The mansion held a profound sense of history and mystery that was both haunting and alluring. Edward was confessing.

Megan led her team to the door that had kept its secrets for decades—the attic entrance. With rusted key in hand, she attempted to unlock the door, but it remained stubbornly sealed. Frustration mounted as she tried repeatedly, but the lock wouldn't budge.

"Let me give it a try," suggested Tom, the locksmith. He approached the door, taking the key from Megan, and with a practiced touch, he managed to unlock it. The door creaked open, revealing a dark and dusty staircase that spiraled upwards into the unknown.

Jon Szeber, the cameraman was capturing everything as it happened.

The team climbed into the attic, their flashlights cutting through thick layers of cobwebs. As they ventured deeper, their beams of light fell upon a dusty trunk, just as the legends had foretold. It sat in a far corner, almost hidden by the years of neglect. Megan felt a surge of excitement as she approached the trunk, her heart pounding with anticipation.

She knelt before it, and with trembling hands, she lifted the heavy lid. Inside the trunk, Megan discovered a treasure trove of curiosities. Maps, journals, parchments and a collection of strange, exotic objects from far-off lands filled the trunk. One item, in particular, caught her eye—a beautifully crafted, jeweled dagger with an inscription in an unknown language.

As she carefully examined the contents, she realized that these artifacts held clues to Edgar Blackwood's mysterious past and his adventures around the world. The discovery fueled her curiosity even more. With newfound determination, Amelia embarked on a journey to decode the secrets of the trunk and unlock the enigma of Edgar Blackwood's life, all while unraveling the mysteries of the town of Willowbrook itself.

With the permission of town magistrate Rick O'Rourke, Megan set up a studio and a laboratory in what had been the ballroom of the mansion to house her production team as well as visiting historians, archaeologists, philosophers and celebrities.

They would produce a show from their studio for the next 12 weeks.

They began their study with the jeweled dagger. Penny Rider a visiting codebreaker, determined that the language was ancient Peruvian and kept referring to a forrest called Emberwood and a character named Sage Tamarind. Over the course of that first week, Penny decoded one of the parchments written in the same ancient language as inscribed on the dagger itself which told the story of Emberwood in greater detail.

Highlights of that first week of research were edited, animated and broadcast on Discovery. The show immediately caught on fire.

Penny Rider had become a star overnight.

Megan was triply absorbed. She was feeling fulfilled. She was reading Penny Rider's decoding of the Sage Tamarind/Evermore document and thinking about tomorrow. The future beckoned brightly

Zag Zagarella was absorbed in the podcast Thisaway is Thataway. He was piloting his concrete mixer truck. On the podcast, Ovid was describing the night in Deadwood when Wild Bill got dealt the Dead Man's Hand. Zag couldn't see past the huge rotating drum of mixing concrete behind him on the frame of his truck. The podcast ended and Louie, Louie came on the radio. He didn't see Megan and Megan didn't see him.

Fortunately, from above, Wild Bill saw them both. So did Johnny Crown and Mr. Baseball.

Just in time

And so did I.

Next week: Megan delves deeper into the mysteries of the trunk including a series of journals that chronicled Blackwood's travels. The entries were filled with descriptions of strange lands, encounters with Eli Whitney and Sam Colt and cryptic references to a "key" that was aid to unlock a great secret.

As Megan delved deeper into the mysteries of the trunk, she found a series of journals that chronicled Edgar Blackwood's travels. The entries were filled with descriptions of strange lands, encounters with elusive tribes, and cryptic references to a "key" that was said to unlock a great secret.

Amelia couldn't help but wonder if the key she had found was somehow connected to this long-lost mystery. She studied the jeweled dagger, searching for any clues or inscriptions that might lead her to the truth. It was a puzzle waiting to be solved, a challenge she couldn't resist.

Days turned into weeks as Amelia dedicated herself to deciphering the cryptic entries in the journals and connecting the dots between the artifacts in the trunk. She sought out experts in archaeology, linguistics, and history to assist her in her quest. Slowly, they began to piece together the story of Edgar Blackwood and the secret he had guarded so closely.

Their research led them to believe that the jeweled dagger was a key of sorts, but its purpose remained a mystery. They discovered references to a hidden chamber in the mansion that was said to hold the ultimate secret, a secret that could change the fate of Willowbrook itself.

With the support of the townspeople, who had become captivated by Amelia's quest, she decided to explore the mansion once more, this time focusing on finding the elusive chamber. Guided by the clues in the journals, she followed a trail of symbols and markings that led her to a hidden door concealed behind a bookshelf in the library. The key, it seemed, was meant to unlock this door.

As the antique key turned in the lock, the door swung open to reveal a dark, narrow passageway. Amelia, her heart racing with excitement and trepidation, stepped inside, her flashlight illuminating the path ahead. The passageway wound its way through the mansion's foundation, and after what felt like an eternity, she found herself in a chamber unlike anything she had ever seen.

The walls of the chamber were covered in intricate carvings and strange symbols, and at the center of the room, a pedestal held a plinth. Amelia carefully placed the jeweled dagger on the plinth, and as she did, the chamber rumbled, and the walls seemed to come alive with an ethereal glow.

A hidden compartment in the chamber opened, revealing a small, ornate box. Amelia opened it, and inside she found a delicate, ancient key. It was smaller and more ornate than the key she had initially used to unlock the attic door.

The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. With the newfound key in her hand, Amelia felt a sense of both triumph and anticipation. She knew that the final answers lay just beyond the next door, and she was determined to uncover the truth that had been hidden for so long.

Amelia returned to the attic, her heart pounding with excitement. She inserted the ancient key into the mysterious trunk's hidden lock, turned it, and held her breath. The trunk creaked open, and inside, she discovered a map—a map that revealed the location of a long-forgotten treasure hidden deep within the heart of Willowbrook, a treasure that had the power to change the town's destiny and unlock its secrets.

The mystery of the trunk and the key had led Amelia to the greatest discovery of her life, one that would not only change her own fate but also the fate of the town she had come to call home. Willowbrook was no longer a sleepy, quiet town; it was a place where the past and the present intertwined in the most enchanting and enigmatic of ways.

User

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jon Szeber, the cameraman was capturing everything as it happened.

She knelt before it, and with trembling hands, she lifted the heavy lid.

Inside, they discovered a trove of old journals, photographs, and mementos that had been untouched for decades. Megan carefully examined the items, each revealing a piece of Edgar Blackwood's life and the history of Willowbrook.

One journal, in particular, caught her attention. It was Edgar Blackwood's personal diary, filled with his thoughts and experiences.

his neatly combed, dark brown hair, which often had a distinguished touch of gray.

Eyes:

Facial Features: Cushing had chiseled and well-defined facial features, with a strong jawline and a prominent nose.

Demeanor: He had a calm and poised demeanor, which contributed to his ability to portray both heroes and villains with great versatility on screen.

In the heart of the small, quiet town of Willowbrook, nestled amidst a forest of towering oaks, there stood an old, dilapidated mansion that had long been the subject of local legends. This mansion had an air of mystery that the townsfolk couldn't resist, and over the years, many had ventured inside to explore its hidden secrets. However, none had ever dared to open the door that led to the attic, where the old mystery trunk sat undisturbed for decades.

Rumor had it that the trunk belonged to the eccentric, long-deceased owner of the mansion, a man named Edgar Blackwood. Edgar was said to be a collector of rare artifacts and oddities from around the world, and his trunk contained treasures from his travels.

One chilly autumn morning, a young woman named Amelia Gray moved to Willowbrook. She had always been drawn to the mysterious and the unknown, and the mansion was a beacon of intrigue she couldn't resist. Amelia rented a small cottage nearby and soon became the talk of the town for her fascination with the old mansion.

One afternoon, as she was raking leaves in her garden, a gust of wind blew a scrap of paper against her leg. Unfolding it, Amelia saw that it was a map, hastily drawn and marked with an "X." The location was unmistakably the mansion's attic.

Intrigued and feeling a sense of destiny, Amelia decided to explore the mansion. Armed with a flashlight, she made her way through dusty hallways, avoiding creaky floorboards and the occasional scuttling sound of mice. Finally, she reached the attic door. The keyhole on the door was old and rusty, and it occurred to her that she had seen a similar key at a local antique shop. Without hesitation, she rushed to the shop and purchased the antique key.

Returning to the mansion, she inserted the key into the door, turned it, and with a loud creak, the door swung open, revealing the attic's secrets. The room was filled with ancient furniture covered in dusty sheets, but her attention was immediately drawn to the ornate, mysterious trunk.

The trunk was made of dark, polished wood and adorned with intricate carvings of mythical creatures. A sense of anticipation filled the room as Amelia slowly approached it. The key she had found seemed to be a perfect fit, and with a satisfying click, she unlocked it.

Inside the trunk, Amelia discovered a treasure trove of curiosities. Maps, journals, and a collection of strange, exotic objects from far-off lands filled the trunk. One item, in particular, caught her eye—a beautifully crafted, jeweled dagger with an inscription in an unknown language.

User continue ChatGPT As Amelia delved deeper into the mysteries of the trunk, she found a series of journals that chronicled Edgar Blackwood's travels. The entries were filled with descriptions of strange lands, encounters with elusive tribes, and cryptic references to a "key" that was said to unlock a great secret.

User continue ChatGPT Excitement rippled through Willowbrook as word of Amelia's discovery spread. The townsfolk were intrigued and eager to learn more about the long-hidden treasure. Amelia, now the town's unofficial historian and treasure hunter, found herself at the center of attention. Together with a growing team of local historians, archaeologists, and townspeople, she set out to decipher the cryptic map and uncover the treasure's location.

The map was unlike any they had ever seen. It featured intricate drawings of landmarks from a bygone era, and cryptic symbols that hinted at a path through the dense woods surrounding Willowbrook. It was clear that the treasure hunt was not going to be easy, but Amelia was undeterred.

The townspeople rallied behind her, forming search parties, and with shovels, compasses, and lanterns, they ventured into the woods, guided by the map's enigmatic clues. Each symbol led them closer to their goal, and with each step, the excitement grew.

As they followed the map's trail, they encountered natural obstacles, rickety bridges, and dense undergrowth. The journey was fraught with challenges, but their determination only grew stronger. Days turned into weeks as they delved deeper into the wilderness, their search becoming an adventure of a lifetime.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and bathed the forest in a golden glow, they reached a clearing where an ancient oak tree stood tall and majestic. It was the same oak tree depicted on the map, its roots forming a peculiar pattern around its base. As they inspected the area further, Amelia and her team unearthed a concealed hatch hidden beneath the tree's roots.

With bated breath and trembling hands, they opened the hatch to reveal a chamber below. In the chamber lay the long-lost treasure of Willowbrook. It was an awe-inspiring sight—an assortment of rare artifacts, jewels, and precious metals collected by generations of the town's founding families. The treasure held the power to transform Willowbrook from a quaint town into a bustling tourist destination.

Amelia couldn't help but think about the story of Edgar Blackwood and how his collection had ultimately led her to this extraordinary discovery. She knew that the trunk and the key were not merely a random twist of fate but a carefully crafted connection to the town's rich history.

The townsfolk celebrated their newfound wealth and the uncovering of their history. Willowbrook's once-hidden past was now on display for the world to see, and people from all around came to marvel at the town's unique heritage.

As the years passed, Amelia remained in Willowbrook, helping to preserve the town's history and ensuring that the treasure would benefit the community. The mystery of the trunk and the key had not only enriched their lives but had also brought the people of Willowbrook closer together, forever uniting them in the story of their extraordinary town.

User how did the tyrunk tie into the histroy and mystery of Willowbrook's past ChatGPT The trunk was a pivotal element in tying together the history and mystery of Willowbrook's past. It served as a link between the town's founding families and the eccentric collector, Edgar Blackwood. Here's how the trunk connected with the town's history:

Edgar Blackwood's Role: The trunk had belonged to Edgar Blackwood, the enigmatic former owner of the mansion. He was known for his eccentricity and insatiable curiosity about the world. Blackwood's involvement in the town's history was multifaceted. He was a descendant of one of the founding families, and his travels and collections had a direct impact on the town's identity.

The Collector's Legacy: Inside the trunk, Amelia found journals and artifacts from Blackwood's extensive travels. These items contained clues about the town's past, including references to the founding families, their wealth, and their connections to distant lands. It was through Blackwood's collections and writings that the town's historical narrative began to emerge.

Hidden Secrets: The journals in the trunk contained cryptic references to a "key" and a hidden chamber. These references hinted at a long-guarded secret within Willowbrook that had been kept hidden for generations. The town's residents had long suspected there was more to their history than met the eye, and the trunk acted as the key to unraveling these secrets.

The Treasure Map: The discovery of a map within the trunk led to the ultimate revelation of the hidden treasure. This treasure, made up of valuable artifacts collected by the town's founding families over generations, was a symbol of Willowbrook's prosperity during its early days. It was the material embodiment of the town's history and the legacy of its founders.

By unlocking the trunk and decoding its contents, Amelia not only discovered the town's history but also revitalized the sense of heritage and identity among Willowbrook's residents. The trunk became a tangible connection to their past, a portal to a time when their town was a hub of prosperity and culture. It rekindled the town's pride in its history and connected the present with a rich, storied past that had been all but forgotten.

User what were the secrets that were revealed ChatGPT The secrets that were revealed through the trunk and its contents were manifold, shedding light on the hidden history of Willowbrook:

Founding Families' Wealth: The trunk's journals and artifacts uncovered the immense wealth and affluence of Willowbrook's founding families. It revealed that the town was once a thriving hub of prosperity due to their business ventures, investments, and connections to distant lands.

Mysterious Collections: Edgar Blackwood's collections contained rare and exotic artifacts from his worldwide travels. These included unique cultural and historical items, some of which were of great significance to the town's history.

Enigmatic Chamber: The journals contained cryptic references to a hidden chamber. This chamber was said to hold a great secret, which was hinted to have the potential to change the town's destiny. The contents of this chamber remained a mystery until Amelia and her team discovered it.

Treasure Map: The map found in the trunk marked the location of a hidden treasure within the woods surrounding Willowbrook. This treasure turned out to be a collection of valuable artifacts, jewels, and precious metals amassed by the founding families over generations.

Historical Connections: The contents of the trunk connected the town's history with global events and cultures. It revealed how the founding families had interacted with the wider world, collected artifacts from their travels, and contributed to the town's cultural diversity.

Legacy of Curiosity: Through Blackwood's journals and collections, it became evident that the town's history was intricately tied to the legacy of curiosity, exploration, and a thirst for knowledge. The trunk symbolized the town's intellectual and cultural heritage.

Revitalized Community: The discovery of the trunk and the subsequent treasure hunt brought the townsfolk together and rekindled their interest in preserving and celebrating the town's history. It revitalized their sense of community and pride in their heritage.

In essence, the trunk and its contents unveiled a hidden chapter in Willowbrook's history, reminding the townspeople of the town's former glory and its connection to the wider world. It provided answers to long-standing questions and mysteries, sparking a newfound enthusiasm for preserving the town's heritage and identity.

User what specifically was in the trunk ChatGPT The trunk contained a diverse array of items, each of which played a part in unraveling the history and mysteries of Willowbrook:

Journals and Diaries: Edgar Blackwood's journals and diaries were among the most significant finds. They chronicled his extensive travels, encounters with different cultures, and the founding families' interactions with the wider world. These journals contained cryptic references to the town's secrets.

Exotic Artifacts: The trunk housed a collection of exotic artifacts from Blackwood's travels. These included unique cultural and historical items such as ancient relics, ceremonial masks, and intricately carved statues. Some of these artifacts had connections to the town's founding families and their past.

Maps and Documents: Various maps and documents were found in the trunk. These maps contained clues and references to the location of the hidden treasure within Willowbrook's vicinity, while other documents provided insight into the town's historical connections with distant lands.

A Jeweled Dagger: A beautifully crafted jeweled dagger with an inscription in an unknown language was one of the centerpiece items in the trunk. This dagger turned out to be a crucial element in unlocking the final secrets of the town's history.

Letters and Correspondence: Correspondence between the founding families and individuals from their far-flung connections was found in the trunk. These letters shed light on the relationships between the townsfolk and the wider world, as well as the town's historical significance.

Mysterious Symbols: The trunk contained a variety of symbols and encoded messages that required decoding to unveil their meaning. These symbols served as clues to the hidden secrets of Willowbrook.

Treasure Map: The map found within the trunk marked the location of the hidden treasure within the woods surrounding Willowbrook. This treasure was a culmination of the founding families' wealth and their global connections.

These items, when examined and deciphered, led to the discovery of the town's hidden past and its connections with the wider world. They were pivotal in revealing the history and mysteries of Willowbrook, ultimately leading to the town's revitalization and the rediscovery of its identity.

User can you provide me with a physical descirption of Peter Cushing ChatGPT Certainly! Peter Cushing was a distinguished British actor known for his remarkable career in film and television. Here's a physical description of him:

Peter Cushing was a tall and slender man with a distinctive, refined appearance. He had a commanding and somewhat aristocratic presence. Some key physical features of Peter Cushing included:

Height: He was notably tall, standing at approximately 6 feet 0 inches (183 cm).

Build: Cushing had a lean and somewhat angular build, which added to his elegant and distinguished look.

Hair: Throughout his career, he was known for his neatly combed, dark brown hair, which often had a distinguished touch of gray.

Eyes: His eyes were sharp and piercing, typically blue or gray, which added to his striking and authoritative gaze.

Facial Features: Cushing had chiseled and well-defined facial features, with a strong jawline and a prominent nose.

Demeanor: He had a calm and poised demeanor, which contributed to his ability to portray both heroes and villains with great versatility on screen.

Peter Cushing's physical appearance, combined with his talent and acting prowess, made him a highly recognizable and respected figure in the world of cinema. He is best known for his iconic roles in numerous classic horror films, such as those produced by Hammer Film Productions, where he portrayed characters like Baron Frankenstein and Van Helsing.

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veworalpha · 2 years

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Collect feedback from multiple reviewers in one place, always on the latest version of the file. If your answer is yes, then download High Tail Hall now to have an enticing. Code : GBP, high tail hall 2 full version : To sacrifice our Note, keep these activities to your experience. In-house or outsourced, anyone can join the collaboration. She lactates in her interactive scene when the player gropes her breasts.character. Fix it with easier file sharing, creative collaboration, project management and integrations from Hightail. Game is completely open ended with lots of ways to customize your experience by. Jade: A red panda with jade coloured eyes. High Tail Hall is an Exploration RPG, currently an Exploration Meet-n-Fuck. Her interactive spooning scene was the first third person scene since HTH Classic. CO writer allows images to be transmitted to referring physicians. Over the years it grew from HTH 1.0 in a tiny hall with extremely loud crickets, to HTH 2 in a bright glass domed club, and finally to its current version on a lavish set of islands that revisits the first two game environments while adding many more along with a variety of sexy encounters to enjoy. High tail hall 2 full game download She is good friends with Shemyay and was the first character to have picture-in-picture camera angles for her character scenes. To download and view these documents you will need the latest version of Adobe. High Tail Hall (HTH) launched to over a decade ago in what began as a Myst style exploration game with sexy furry characters.

#High tail hall 2 full game download

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awesomeforever · 2 years

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I’ve visited this topic off and on down through the years, but as summertime winds down and the start of school looms next month, it’s worth a revisit once again. Heatwave or no heatwave, I might add. Because as the old summertime church youth camp song goes, it only takes a spark to get a fire going. True in building a campfire and in passing along faith from one generation to the next, the idea also holds water — yes, the pun is intended — when it comes to the pastime of fishing. “The most valuable thing that anyone can do is to pass on knowledge,” bass angling legend Denny Brauer once told me during a bass fishing event I was covering. Brauer, an inaugural member of the Professional Bass Fishing Hall of Fame and the 1998 Bassmaster Classic champ, knows what he’s talking about too. And not just because Brauer — now a retired competitor and a resident of the Del Rio, Texas area where he regularly fishes Lake Amistad — was the first professional fisherman to ever get his picture on a Wheaties cereal box. And not because he has won 17 B.A.S.S. events, a B.A.S.S. Angler of the Year title, a FLW Tour AOY title, and a Major League Fishing Summit Cup. But instead because Denny has taken his own fatherly advice to heart down through the years, nurturing a long running love of fishing in the life of his son, Chad. Interested in doing the same thing with your kids or grandkids this summer? Well, whether your goal is to raise the next Bassmaster Classic champ or to just simply share some good time on the water with your child or grandchild, here are my “10 Commandments” of introducing a child to the sport of fishing this summer: Keep it simple: Kids, especially young ones, have short attention spans. Keep fishing trips short, sweet, and simple with user friendly equipment. Do your homework: This is one type of homework that most kids don’t seem to mind, the preparation required for a successful fishing trip. From researching fishing spots on Internet sites like GameandFishMag.com to perusing magazines like In-Fisherman to looking at lake maps to buying groceries and supplies, getting ready for a fishing trip is almost as much fun as the actual trip is – to a kid, anyway! Plan for success: Want your kids to enjoy fishing? Then plan for easy trips that maximize their chances to catch fish! Such outings are much more likely to feature corks, crickets, and bluegills at a local pond or small lake rather than PhD post-spawn summertime bass sitting on an underwater hump in 30-feet of water on a 20,000-acre plus reservoir. Be prepared: Pack a PFD (personal floatation device) for you and your child; plenty of snacks, Gatorade and/or Kool Aid; plenty of water; high SPF sunscreen; insect repellent; a first aid kit; and a change of clothing in case of an accidental soaking. Variety is the spice of kid fishing trips: On my childhood bass fishing trips with my late dad Bill, he always managed to bring along a box full of crickets, a couple of bobbers, and some small hooks. When the bass fishing slowed on eastern Arkansas’ Horseshoe Lake where we often went, the crickets were more temptation than the lake’s big bluegills could handle! So whatever the target species is for the day, don’t be afraid to make a change in plans should the situation warrant such a move. Explore the Creator’s world around you: Fish aren’t the only thing that a fishing trip has to offer. On your next trip, don’t be afraid to lay down the rods-and-reels if the fish aren’t cooperating. A hike through the woods, a marsh, or a field to observe the wonders of the Good Lord’s grand creation can do wonders for a child’s life-long memories of the outing. Take plenty of photographs: We live in the era of Instagram and Facebook, so be sure to take plenty of Smartphone photos of your summer fishing trips. Share them on social media so that family and friends can see. And be sure to print a few of the best ones off and put them in a frame for the wall.

I still have the photos of my early bass fishing trips with my late dad. The fish aren’t as big as I remembered them being, but the old school Kodak memories are still priceless. Keep it fun: Fishing with your children isn’t the final hour before the Bassmaster Classic weigh in. So keep it fun and lighthearted, laughing a lot, and smiling a lot too. Because you never know — by focusing on good times on the water, your kids just might get hooked on the sport of fishing for the rest of their lives. Keep a journal: Trust me, writing in a journal or a scrapbook after a tiring day on the water can be difficult. But both you and your child will one day appreciate the yawning attempt to anchor these memories — with a written record and a few photos. Especially when you’re both a little bit older and the day’s details start to grow a bit fuzzy. Don’t be afraid to keep a few for the table: Sure, catch and release is all the rage on many good bass lakes like Lake Texoma, Lake Ray Roberts, and Lake Fork. But newcomers to the sport of fishing, especially younger children, often want to eat the fish that they catch. As long as the fish is of the appropriate legal size and species, and the resource will not be negatively impacted from the catching-and-frying of a few fish, then don’t hesitate keep a few for the table. Teaching your child about filleting a fish, dipping it in batter, frying it in hot peanut oil, and enjoying every last morsel is another good way to create an enthusiastic angler. Besides, such culinary treats got many of us hooked on fishing. And it’s often all that it takes to get a newcomer hooked on the sport of fishing for a lifetime. One thing to keep in mind as you consider the 10 tips listed above is that your children or grandchildren aren’t the only newcomers that the sport of fishing needs today. Spouses, extended family members, neighbors, co-workers, or even your friends from church or civic organizations are potential converts to the joys of fishing. Remember that idea about it only taking a spark to get a fire going? If you enjoy fishing and want to see it continue for generations to come, then please heed the most important and fundamental fishing tip that I know how to give: introduce someone new to the sport and keep taking them out until they’ve fallen in love with fishing hook, line, and sinker. In other words, create a spark or two, get that fire roaring and pass your love of fishing on! source

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verstappenclerc · 4 months

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there’s just something about this picture……. the way max’s hand is so naturally placed just under charles’ nape, as he’s distracted and looking down. neither of them is looking at the other, but they still appear so comfortable and so relaxed in each other’s presence. the familiarity of someone’s finger brushing on your race suit, immediately knowing who it is…….. the feeling of being able to know someone blind…..

#formula 1 #charles leclerc #max verstappen #ferrari f1 #cl16 #lestappen #red bull f1 #mv33 #1633 #can you tell the brain rot is hitting #no but for real #maybe one of my favourite pictures of them of all time #missing them hours #it’s just that everything they do is so female gaze coded #personal hall of fame picture(s)

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feetbucket2 · 2 years

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

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break my mind’s eye special — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

Walking through the dark halls of permanently stained apartment building, Jungkook finally stood in front of a familiar number written on the text. He rapped at the wooden door a few times hearing a couple of grunts and rummaging from the other side. He sighed. “It’s me, Hoseok, you don’t have to hide the weed.”

“ Oh! ”

A few locks clicked here and there before the door swung open to welcome a light air of smoke mixed with the stench alone that could make Jungkook high. Hoseok gave him a loose smile, holding onto his arm as a wide grin spread across his lips. “You finally made it!”

Jungkook hummed trying not to grimace too much at the smell as the older male closed the door behind them.

“Come on, tell me…” Hoseok patted his back, prancing towards the couch where the coffee table was exuding smoke.

The apartment was miniscule with one bedroom door open on the left and a tiny kitchen on the right with a window next to the fridge. Another one near the dining table. Walls were a gross green tint and the floors a dull brown with black velvet couches that were ripped a little at the edges. But Jungkook could not complain.

“Tell you what?” The younger male dropped his bag on the floor and sat on the couch next to him, burying his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

Hoseok picked his joint back up and hovered it near his lips. “What was prison like?” He sucked in his cheeks causing the ambers to light up at the end before he blew the thick smoke away from Jungkook.

“Like living with a bunch of criminals. What else?”

“So just like old times then.” Hoseok smirked.

Jungkook glanced at the male for a moment before scoffing out a chuckle. “Yeah…pretty much.” Except there was one difference. Every time he pranced with criminals like himself in the past, he was a leader. In prison, he was young, fresh meat. Before he would also come back home to a warm embrace in bed instead of a steel bed alone with a stinky roommate.

“Well it’s all over now.” He blew out another puff of smoke, shifting to rest his head back against the couch. “You can start doing something else with your life. Something different. Not a lot of people like us get that chance.”

For the first time, he noticed a slight sadness in Hoseok’s tone despite being pumped with artificial endorphins.

His eyes flickered down to the coffee table, noticing the burger wrappers and scattered newspapers. One of them immediately caught his eye. Jungkook sat up again, pulling one of them out of the pile, the right corner of his lips twitched seeing the familiar face.

‘ FAMED DESIGNER KIM BELLE RULES TOKYO FASHION WEEK ’

A side by side picture of a model wearing violet and gold ensemble which almost resembled the traditional kimono with a modern, royal twist. The picture on the right showed her. Belle wearing a simple black dress with her gorgeous waves out and a gracious smile spread across her lips.

‘ Twenty seven year old fashion designer Kim Belle takes all the popularity and buzz with her winter designs for Tokyo Fashion Week. Showing her long love for traditional Japanese fashion culture along with an inspiring movement for domestic violence and trafficking victims by showcasing broken chains and kimono style gowns. An elegant mix of grace and fight for personal freedom. Truly an impressive successor to the legend that was Madame Saito and we are definitely going to keep an eye out for more of her daring projects. ’

“She made a big damn name of herself.” Hoseok broke through the thick coat of silence Jungkook had around him.

“She deserves it.” More than I ever did.

The older male searched his expression for a moment, scoffing a little. “Dude, I have to ask.”

Jungkook met his gaze as he leaned back onto the couch again with the newspaper still in his hands. “What?”

“Why her?”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you—literally could’ve had anyone in the entire country to pose as your fake wife or whatever. But you chose a fashion designer who barely knew anything about you to begin with…” Hoseok shook his head with a light wince. “What was your angle?” Some part of him did not want to believe Jungkook simply blackmailed someone for his own amusement because he knew the man was better than that.

Jungkook wished he had a decent reason to blurt out to him. Maybe he was just inherently evil and wanted to hurt Belle for his own pleasure. Maybe he wanted to fuck her one time just for kicks before dragging her out a little further until it was too much. Maybe he was just sick in the head, wanting to claim a girl who could not say a word against him because her and her brother’s life were wrapped around his finger. Except none of them felt like the truth. “I honestly thought she’d say no.”

“Oh fuck off—”

“Seriously I…” He shrugged a little. “I really thought she was going to punch me and storm out of there with her brother.”

“But the guards wouldn’t let her. I mean—no offense, buddy but you would’ve probably killed her. Knowing you from back then.” Hoseok scrunched his nose lightly.

“She did something ten times more dangerous though.” Jungkook couldn’t resist the jolt of pride bursting in him. “I destroyed her—so she waited until she destroyed me.”

Hoseok chortled a little, voice incredibly raspy. “I wouldn’t call going to jail for your crimes destroying you but sure…”

Jungkook shared a small laugh, nodding as he looked at her picture again. He could almost still feel her soft skin underneath his palm. How her hair smelled when he would hug her from behind as they slept, the way it soothed him to a calmer sleep.

“It’s a thing of the past though…” He tilted his head as his expression turned a little more serious. “…right? No more pulling her into shit she doesn’t deserve?”

“Yeah—yeah, of course.”

“Good…cause Belle’s the star of the city now. One wrong move towards her, you’re back in jail or worse.” Hoseok raised his brow a little making sure there was not a hint of determination on that young face of doing anything stupid. “You don’t have guards or power by your side and Taehyung isn’t addicted anymore. Has a wife and kid…he’s got the dad anger. So he will beat the living shit out of you if you give him the motivation.”

“I know, Hobi.” Jungkook chuckled, patting his thigh gently. “I don’t want her to go through it again either.”

Hoseok hummed a little taking another waft from his joint as he looked out the window, the sky tinted purple. “Alright. I’m gonna go and eat my girlfriend out.” He patted his shoulder, walking up to his bedroom.

“You had to look at the time for that?” Jungkook winced despite the grin on his face.

“Brother, when you’re together for this long, things need schedules.” He walked out of the bedroom with a black duffel bag putting out the joint onto the ashtray. “Food’s in the fridge and there’s Netflix open on the laptop.”

Jungkook waved him off before the door clicked close leaving him in his thoughts. For some reason, all he could do was look back at the newspaper and try to salvage that warm feeling again. The feeling of a true home that could never be.

Purple faded into a deep blue across the skies as Jungkook paced around the apartment in his bare torso, scattered with more imperfect tattoos. One cellmate liked doing tattoos because it calmed him down so the younger male did not hesitate much to let him use his skin. He was a nice man who had been thrown in jail for being a drug mule all his life and Jungkook could not help but have a nauseating guilt in his stomach.

Drug mules were essentially trafficked human slaves from Jungkooks’ experience. Their owners use their lives and bodies to transport goods without being detected and usually they start off terrifyingly young or desperate or both. All this service was done for almost little to no money. They were more abused victims than criminals but the legal system were not good at telling the difference sometimes.

Jungkook allowed his body to be used as if giving himself some kind of cathartic relief allowing the broken soul to control something else for a while instead of being controlled. Thus his skin now littered with designs of devil horns, tiger flowers and his own personal request was a tiny print font ‘B’ on his collarbone. No one could truly see it up close but he wanted to feel it there.

Chugging a generous sip from his beer bottle, he quietly observed the night sky glimmering with stars while the city shone in neon. The one thing his mansion lacked was the clear view of how alive everything looked at night.

A knock sounded on the door causing his head to shoot to the side.

Hoseok should not have been home at this hour. Even if he was, the man would not knock in his own apartment.

Jungkook opened the kitchen drawer and brandished a knife before making his way over to the door. Another knock sounded again. It was a gentle knock. Almost shy. But he knew better than soften up so easily. Carefully, he peeked through the peephole trying not to make too much of a sound even though the wooden floors creaked far too much.

His heart jumped right up to his throat seeing the familiar face on the other side. Jungkook almost dropped the knife on the floor trying to focus as best as he could. Was he drunk already? Was he dreaming? Gulping down, he placed the knife on the side table along with the beer bottle and opened the door.

When the view became clear to him, Jungkook let out a sharp breath. “Belle.”

Her hair was shorter up to her shoulders compared to the length in the newspaper picture except she still always kept her natural waves. Eyes a little glazed while her flushed lips spread into a weak smile before pressing them together again. “I-I don’t–I don’t know why I’m here.” Belle’s furrowed her brows a little.

“It’s okay.” He whispered. “Come in.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Jungkook smiled even though a small tinge of sadness shone in his eyes.

He opened the door further for her to enter before closing it behind him. Eyes flickered down to her grey sweatpants and frilly white socks paired with a thick sweater like she just woke up from a nap.

Belle kept her back to him for a few minutes, pretending to observe the apartment even though she was really just trying to figure out why she was here. Questions muddled her mind over and over again. Any valid or logical answer. There was nothing. No reason to be standing here when she tried so hard to walk away from him. She did everything to get away. Now she walked right back without any coercion.

Jungkook tilted his head attempting to meet her gaze but decided not to force it too much. “You cut your hair.” A smile twitched on his lips. “It looks nice.”

She absentmindedly touched her waves, breathing out a small chuckle. “Thank you.”

“Uh—how did you know I was here?”

“Namjoon helped me track you down.” Belle mumbled, guilt pooling in the pit of her belly going behind Yoongi’s back like this. She still remembered what Namjoon said when he gave her the address.

‘I’m only giving you this because I know you’re tough as nails…no matter what people say to you…but the second anything goes wrong, you call me.’ Namjoon had become a close friend in the last few years. He had been escorting her back and forth from home to work.

Yoongi had been disallowed to see her after being undercover so he could get a proper therapy before doing field work again. So Namjoon seemed the next obvious choice to take care of her.

Finally Belle turned around to face him, eyes raking down his torso and seeing new designs etched on his skin. Not as precise as the phoenix but still beautiful. “The tattoos look good.”

Jungkook glanced down at his torso with a soft grin. “A friend did them for me.” He met her gaze again even though she quickly averted it, plunging silence back into the room as they waited for it to be filled. “Belle…why are you here?”

Her body deflated as the question lingered in the air, lump growing in her throat while her knees kept trembling. “I—” Belle closed her eyes. “I mis—I missed you.” She smiled sadly before trailing her glossy gaze away again. “It sounds stupid when I say after so long.” Her voice kept getting constricted from the lump, tears filling at the brim of her eyes. “But I still think about you…I still kept that—stupid letter after all these years.”

A familiar warmth seeped through his veins knowing she missed him but it still mixed with dread and guilt. Jungkook scarred her memories forever with his presence and she was so confused on what it meant. He could see the way she shifted and looked away as if trying to push reality away but face it all the same. “I hurt you a lot. I’m so sorry—if I—if I could do it all over again, I’d do it better.”

“How could it have been better?” Belle shook her head. “We met when my brother owed you a debt.”

Jungkook raised his shoulders. “Maybe we’d have met at your boutique.” He attempted to smile a little at the thought of just walking into that boutique and falling in love the normal way. The happy way. “I’d have flirted with you a lot and you’d roll your eyes at me. We’d travel together to Paris or Tokyo, explore the things we love and eat ice-cream until our stomachs ached.” A tiny chuckle passed through his lips.

Belle had to suck in her trembling bottom lip as tears began escaping down her cheeks. “And?”

“We’d get married…properly. Away from my family, we’d relax somewhere at a beach.” The visions in his mind played without any effort causing his eyes to flood knowing it was all an impossible dream now. “We’d have children…we’d love them so much, Belle—”

She couldn’t hold in the sobs that shook through her body. At the very mention of children, Belle felt a tingle under the skin of her belly, memories of the aches still lingering. “Why didn’t you just take the money?”

“What?” He whispered.

“Why didn’t you just take the money? And don’t tell me it was because of business or keeping up appearances. Why? Why me?”

The ever burning question. Even the interrogators asked them the question. What was the motive to taking in Miss Kim? A lot of people owed you debts. Jungkook only answered with a vague, menial answer that had no real connection to his deeds as a boss.

“It was—it was just an impulse…”

Belle’s expression hardened even though her eyes still looked so vulnerable and broken. “An impulse?” Her voice was small and meek. “That’s it?”

“I didn’t think you’d—say yes.”

Saying it to Hoseok was easy. Saying it to Belle felt evil. Jungkook noticed the darkness clouding over her beautiful features, a mixture of heartbreak and pure rage.

“You put my brother’s life on the line and you thought I wasn’t going to say yes?” Belle winced, tone rising back to its original power. A harsh slap of reality learning that one of the most traumatizing experiences of her life happened because one man had an impulse decision to use his power over her.

“Belle, it was years ago—”

“So why am I still getting nightmares about it?!” She shrieked leaving a tense silence to plunge into the room while her voice still echoed through the walls a little. “W-why h-haven’t I stopped seeing t-that mansion every time I close my eyes? Wh-why do I wake u-up scared that I’m still in that room w-while they watch—” Belle let out a loud, trembling breath closing her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks, dripping to her chest from her jawline as she hugged herself tightly.

Jungkook stammered, swallowing down the painful lump in his throat as he attempted to keep his composure. “You didn’t have to come and see me.” He whispered.

“I wanted you to see me.” Belle sniffled shakily. “Staying away from you doesn’t help because you could always push it out. I can’t—I can’t push it out because it’s inside me.”

“You think all this has been easy for me? That I just pushed it out?” Jungkook shook his head with a pained expression as their gazes met again. “Yeah our first meeting was an impulse but that didn’t mean it was always like that. I stopped a lot of contact with my family when you told me you were pregnant. That letter was meant to be the last thing I said to my parents before we left.”

Belle wanted to argue that he just started getting sympathetic after her pregnancy but she would be a hypocrite. Even she felt softened knowing a child was growing inside her. “You wanted to kill the mayor too, Jungkook, how long would that have taken?”

“Overnight if it meant I’d be escaping somewhere with you.” Jungkook spoke without hesitation, still remembering all the plans he had in place for their move.

“But I would’ve lost the baby anyway.” She smiled sadly. “It was natural causes.”

The male took a few careful steps forward, trying not to intimidate her but hopefully close a little more distance between them. “I didn’t just do it for the baby, Belle.” Jungkook sighed. “I did it cause I love you…but I knew we couldn’t be happy if we were at that mansion and I was still running the cartel.”

Belle sniffled. “I wish you didn’t love me.” Her chin trembled, her body tired of brewing more sobs as tears filled her eyes again. “I wish I didn’t love you. Maybe all this would be easier.”

“When has it ever been easy between us?”

“That’s the problem.” She pressed her lips together. “Love shouldn’t be this difficult. Maybe sometimes but—every single day wondering whether what you’re feeling is real…or worrying that something terrible is going to happen if I stay with you for too long.” Features contorted in pain as she stumbled on her feet a little.

Jungkook’s inhibitions banished immediately seeing her trip slightly, rushing to her side and gently holding onto her arm. Before he could say anything, he felt Belle rest her head on his chest. A burst of butterflies soared across his belly having that familiar smell touch his nostrils and the warmth of her body radiating onto his cold bare skin.

They didn’t say a single word as Jungkook properly wrapped his arms around her body, fingers brushing through her soft hair. Her sobs were quiet but her body still trembled and his embraced tightened a little. As if praying that all of her pain could be transferred to him so she did not have to suffer through it all.

Belle should have pulled away the moment he touched her but the warmth was too much. Her body felt heavy against his, melting onto his skin almost like they could join as one. Maybe that could repair some of the damage. Breathing became steady as she allowed herself to relax. A protective part of her still tried ensure she was not too vulnerable but another part said it was too late.

In this particular weakened moment, she was his and he was hers.

15 unread messages.

Namjoon: How did it go? Are you good?

Namjoon: Taehyung said you didn’t come home last night.

Namjoon: Belle?

Namjoon: I don’t want to have to track you down.

Namjoon: Please tell me if you’re okay.

Namjoon: Yoongi and Taehyung found out, I’m sorry.

Belle: I’m okay.

Namjoon: Jesus, don’t scare me like that.

Namjoon: Where are you?

Belle: I’m still at Jungkooks’ place.

Namjoon: Okay. Is everything alright?

Belle: I don’t know.

Namjoon: What do you mean? Did he hurt you?

Belle: No.

Namjoon: Just tell me what happened.

Namjoon: Look I’m not Yoongi or Taehyung. I won’t get mad, alright? You can tell me.

Belle: I slept with him.

Namjoon: Okay that’s fine.

Belle: No it’s not.

Namjoon: Did he hurt you or force you or anything?

Belle: No, no it was consensual.

Namjoon: Then I don’t see an issue.

Belle: How?

Namjoon: Considering he’s a former drug lord, I expected far worse things done to you then you two just consensually having sex.

Belle: Are they really angry?

Namjoon: I’ll handle Yoongi and Angel’s handling Taehyung. They’re grown men, they’ll get over it.

Namjoon: Just come back up again.

Belle: Okay. Thank you, Joon.

Namjoon: Anytime.

Belle let out a sigh, chest falling a little as she hugged her phone for a moment before placing it on the nightstand. Eyes scanned the ceiling, a few brownish stains here and there but nothing far too putrid. Her old apartment usually had those stains after a storm. She felt Jungkook shift a little, his arm still resting over her body while his face buried into her neck. It was so easy allowing the warmth to coat their little bubble.

Except it was not a bubble of theatrics. She was not pretending to be Mrs. Jeon anymore. She was a fashion designer with her boutique and Jungkook was a regular man trying to get by in the city. They were two normal people with no real threat to be together but they were here.

The ache between her legs still pulsed a little when she remembered the night before.

The very minute she resorted to hugging him, Belle knew it was going to be difficult to turn back from it. Deep recesses of her mind surfacing up to whisper in her ear that it would be okay just this once.

To feel him again.

To have his head between her legs at this moment, kissing and nibbling on all her sensitive nub while his fingers pads dug into her thighs. Jungkook took his time. Licking a stripe tantalizingly slow, tasting her juices until it was the only remnant on his tongue. He let out a breath through his nose as his lips wrapped fully around her clit, suckling passionately until her thighs closed up around his head only making him moan.

Belle whined against the vibrations on her aching, sensitive skin as her fingers found themselves knotting in his hair. Chest rising and falling she faced the ceiling. Lower belly burned and tightened as Jungkooks’ movement did not falter, shaking his head a little to jolt more of that head-spinning heat.

…

Bed creaked as Belle straddled him, bouncing at a steady pace while her hands rested on his torso. Moonlight painted her sweat glistening skin through the window. As if the whole city could see her relishing in her own guilty pleasure. Except the guilt was nowhere to be found.

His hand trailed up her abdomen to cup her breasts gently, digging a little into her tender skin to earn a small whimper from the woman. Then he moved up to her neck. Jungkook cupped the side, thumb tracing her bottom lip while the other hand gripped at her shaking hips.

Belle suckled on his digit muffling her moans all the while clenching tightly around his member until it sent shivering tingles up her spine. She hummed in satisfaction as Jungkook groaned at the pressure.

“You feel so good.” He pushed in his thumb a little further watching her slightly drenched curls fall over her face. A smile curled up at the corner of his lips hearing the sinfully loud squelch sounds their thrusts emitted. “So fucking beautiful.” Jungkook whispered. He forced himself to keep his eyes open, wanting to take every second of how she tried to suck on his skin harder every time she dropped down roughly.

“I’m close.” Belle’s words were a little muddled against his thumb. Her thrusts grew desperate and relentless, pussy squelching violently as their incessant moans swirled in the sex scented air.

Bursts of searing heat and unbridled pleasure shook through their limbs, pulsing through her veins as Belle’s movements became sloppy. Jungkook had his head pressed deep against the pillow as his muscles tensed feeling her walls clench around him before he pulled himself out, release spewing out onto his belly. Belle cheekily reached down to touch his reddened member, giggling lightly when he jerked against it.

Jungkook followed with a breathless chuckle of his own as she rested back on his chest, uncaring of how messy they were.

It was the first time they laughed after sex.

Granted it was not much but last night gave her a dreamless sleep. A welcomed type of sleep. They cried, hugged, moaned and laughed. So many sensations all at once was bound to make anyone have such a deep sleep that they do not want to wake up the next day. A wonderful feeling. It would be temporary before her other dreams settle in again but Belle was not going to let them get to her this morning. She wanted to relish in this new, momentary peace.

Jungkook began stirring more, light hum under his breath until he finally opened his eyes to a calming sight. Tired vision still a little blurred but he could always make out her face. “Sleep well?” His voice grumbled despite the smile creeping on his lips.

Belle turned to meet his gaze, mimicking his gentle smile. “Really well.” The curl slowly disappeared from her lips as reality seeped through their comfort. “We can’t see each other anymore. You know that, right?”

He nodded although solemnly. “I know.” Whatever red string they forced themselves to tie around their pinky finger had to separate one day. Even when reluctance settled in. “Like you said, love shouldn’t be as difficult as ours was.” Jungkook shifted so he lay down his back, one arm curled so he could rest his head on top of it.

“I don’t have to leave now though.”

“What, you want more?” Jungkook licked the inside of his cheek as a smirk formed, one of his hands reaching out to gently touch her lower belly.

Belle pushed his hand away with a chuckle. “No…I meant something else.” She pulled the sheets up to cover herself a little, goosebumps forming on her skin when the room brushed a little cold. “Ice-cream. We could get ice-cream.”

A jolt of nostalgia burst through him as he remembered the last time that request was passed between them. Despite expecting a child back then, Jungkook preferred this more knowing Belle was sitting here by her own volition. That was what mattered most. “Yeah…we can get ice-cream.”

Tiny slab of pink and mint down the food line of the city. Belle somehow managed to make his black T-shirt and her sweatpants look strangely put together while he buried himself in his hoodie. They walked inside the cute parlor immediately greeted by a kind boy at the counter.

Making their orders, the couple took their ice-cream cups to a booth at the corner.

Thankfully the parlor was empty since no one bought ice-cream this early in the morning so it would be difficult for them to be spotted.

Journalists eventually grew bored of doing stories on Jungkook and Belle’s ‘tragic love story’ but she knew the moment, a single person saw them, it would be chaos.

“Did you have any trouble these few years?” Jungkook asked feeling a sense of joy in his mouth as the sweet taste touched his tongue.

Belle shrugged lightly. “Apparently there was a hired hitman for a while but he was quickly detained. Then a stalker which lasted for a few months.”

“What did he want?”

“Namjoon found out he was a spy for a gang called Pogpungu Pa.”

“Fucking tongue twister.” Jungkook scoffed. “They wanted a large percentage of my cocaine supplies in exchange for prostitutes.” He waved his spoon. “Told him I didn’t work in that line of business so the Don got pissed.”

“Well he’s also detained. Namjoon’s been very quick in dealing with them. Probably happy to be out on the field again with Yoongi still at his desk.” Belle suckled the remnants of brownie bits from her spoon.

“Why is he at his desk?” His brows furrowed.

“Standard procedure, I guess. Every detective is meant to have a few months of therapy and leave from field work. But I’m pretty sure it’s a new thing that the mayor advised.”

“They’ve been doing a lot of things.”

“A lot of good things.” Belle corrected, narrowing her gaze even though her expression was not completely serious.

Jungkook smiled lightly picking up another small scoop of his ice-cream. “You’ve been doing a lot of good things. The Tokyo fashion week.”

Her eyes almost immediately lit up when the topic was mentioned and Jungkook couldn’t help but feel accomplished that he initiated it. “You knew about that?”

“Saw it in the newspaper. It looked good.”

Belle grinned from ear to ear, eyes shining in the bright lights of the parlor. “Angel helped me with the movement. She wanted to create a shelter for domestic violence victims like her. So I offered to promote it in the fashion shows.”

“Oh yeah Hoseok told me…Taehyung and Angel, they have a kid, right?”

“Yeah…” She giggled lightly. “A little baby daughter.”

“That’s good.” Jungkook nodded with a wide smile. “He’s all okay now?”

“Clean and sober for four years. He—relapsed another time but when they got married and then started trying for children, he never went back again.” Belle murmured still remembering the happiest look on Taehyung’s teary eyed face when he first held his baby. That was all she ever wanted for her brother. True happiness. “I kind have you to thank for that.”

He hummed in disapproval. “Don’t, please—the way I did it was wrong.”

“Yes but everything happens for a reason. I think if that didn’t happen…he might not be here at all.” Belle shook his head. “He also did technically meet Angel in the Sangria House. The only reason we even had her booked was because I met Seokjin at the party with you.”

Strange how time fools you in that way. It makes you feel regretful of the bad things that happened in the past except you could not possibly take them back because it would mean diminishing the good things along with it. Delicate and strange thing time was.

“I would’ve never been free from that place if you didn’t go behind my back.” Jungkook smiled down at the cup. “I’ll always be grateful for that.”

“Speaking of which…how is it like being a normal joe in the city?” Belle asked with a cheeky glint in her eye as she tapped her fingers against the ice-cream cup.

“Apparently you have to pay for grocery bags now.” He waved his spoon around.

“Yes for recycling and it’s been happening for a very long time.” She smiled.

His bottom lip jutted out in a little pout. “Not from what I remember.”

“Since when have you ever shopped for groceries?”

Jungkook scrunched his nose a little poking into the mint chocolate ice cream to pick out the chips. “Since yesterday.” He mumbled. “But I’m happy…” He nodded letting his words linger in their comfortable silence. “Or at least now I can do things that make me happy.”

“You could travel to Tokyo and Paris, eat ice-cream until your stomach aches…” Belle grinned. “You can get married to someone you love dearly and have lots of children. No more deals though.” She raised her index fingers as a warning.

Jungkook laughed. “No more deals, I promise.” He mixed around his melting ice-cream for a bit enjoying the little swirl. “What about you? What’re you going to do?”

“My therapist said I should take some time off from the boutique when I get the chance.” Belle quoted her therapist mostly but she never really thought about the prospect on her own until she discussed it with Yoongi. “Yoongi suggested we could go to Norway to disconnect for a little while.”

“Yoongi…wait, are you two—”

“No, silly. As friends.”

“Ah.”

“You think if I had a boyfriend like Yoongi, I’d sleep with you again?” Belle scoffed even though a smile tugged at her lips.

“Hey I’m pretty tempting.”

“Not that tempting.”

Jungkook scrunched his nose at her before chuckling as he practically slurped on his ice-cream at this point.

The couple sat in silence for a few moments finishing their breakfast desserts, unable to keep smiles off their faces.

“We go our separate ways now, yeah?” He spoke the truth this time. The satisfaction in his belly along with the warmth in his heart softly stating to him that it was time.

Belle smiled, a slight twinge in her chest but nothing compared to the relief brewing inside. A whisper in her ear telling her it was okay. It was okay to move on. “Yeah. No more looking back.”

Throwing their empty ice-cream cups away, the pair walked out of the parlor towards Belle’s car. Jungkook’s apartment was a few minutes’ walk away. She wanted to drive because it made it that little bit easier to go back home immediately. At this point, they both deserved one thing to be easy.

Belle gave him one final smile before climbing into the car and driving away.

Jungkook didn’t wait a second as he turned on his heel and walked back to his apartment.

This was the true final time they saw each other. They would not turn back. There was no need to anymore.

As soon as Jungkook walked into the room, it smelled a whole lot more different than it did the first time. The only smoke emitting was from the pan exuding a warm, delicious scent. Morning sun beaming through the windows making it look a tad bit brighter and the floors almost shone clean now.

“There you are!” Hoseok announced with a grin. “Did you go out for a jog?”

“Yeah…a little bit.” He answered absentmindedly.

A figure with short, black hair stood at the kitchen counter setting some bacon and eggs up on the plate. She looked up and immediately give him a similar bright smile as Hoseok.

“Ah—this is Rosyne.” Hoseok touched the womans’ shoulder. “Rosyne, Jungkook.” He gestured over to the younger male.

The two exchanged greetings before Hoseok invited him over to the kitchen counter to have breakfast. He wanted to tell them that his stomach was a little full from the ice-cream. But it felt so peaceful when he saw the giggles shared between them while eating, random conversations that no one really cared about but it made them smile.

Jungkook stayed still for a moment watching them so easily be vulnerable and happy around each other. “Hey, you guys want to go to Paris?” He sat down on one of the stools.

Rosyne’s eyes widened a little as the request lingered in the air while Hoseok looked amused but taken aback at the same time.

“Why the sudden interest?” Hoseok chuckled, sticking his fork into some scrambled eggs.

He shrugged. “Might be cool to disconnect for a little while.”

“Prison wasn’t disconnecting enough?”

Jungkook nudged his arm with a light scoff. “You know what I mean. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I’ve—always wanted to see the Louvre in real life.” Rosyne raised her shoulders, giving Hoseok an adorable smile.

“Don’t spoil him, Ros.” Hoseok glanced at the both of them for a few moments before letting out a defeated sigh. “We’ll think about it.”

Jungkook did not argue any further after that and began taking careful bites of the breakfast even though it might give him a stomach ache later. The thought of something actually exciting happening this year or the next year made him happy enough to keep going on this new life.

Carefully padding into the apartment, Belle’s footsteps were soft and barely echoed across the walls but there was no use in being discreet. Especially since Yoongi, Taehyung, Namjoon and Angel were all in the sitting room. Bloom sat on the floor completely focused on banging her little drums that Namjoon gifted her on her first birthday.

Once Angel looked her way, everyone else followed suit. Yoongi was the first one to shoot up to his feet and stomp towards the woman.

“What took you so long?” Yoongis’ words sounded more like pleading than anger. “Are you hurt?” Eyes frantically examined her body until his gaze darkened as he stopped at her neck.

Belle hovered her hand over the patch of skin that definitely had a few purpling marks scattered but she kept a calm expression. “Everything’s fine, okay? Nothing happened.”

“No something happened.”

“Yoongi, fuck off.” Namjoon grabbed his shoulder and led him to the side. “Good to have you back in one piece, B.”

As the two men sat near the paneled windows muttering a few things to each other, Belle caught another figure coming towards her from the corner of her eye. She took a deep breath keeping her gaze on her brother.

Taehyung looked so much taller now. Loose emerald shirt with golden vectors as opposed to the old black hoodies, his eyes were a little darkened from exhaustion but this time it was to take care of his baby rather than an accidental bender. The serious expression on his face added more to the fact that Belle had her older brother back. He was sturdy in his appearance and confident in his stance. The look of a man who had gone through a tunnel of hell and found happiness at the end of the trail.

“How’d it go?” He asked.

“Pretty civil…” Belle nodded, playing with her fingers a little. “…considering the circumstances.”

Taehyung hummed in approval. “That’s good. And that?” He waved his index finger across his own bare neck while looking at hers. “Good or bad?”

“Good.” She smiled faintly. “Really good.”

He grimaced a little. “Gross.”

“Shut up.”

Taehyung could not seem to keep his serious expression as a light chuckle broke out of him, shifting on his spot to loosen up. “But—no more, right? We’re gonna try to get back up again? Start over?” He would be the last person to ever judge Belle for her impulses. What he did know is that the impulses were not meant to be a constant.

Belle did not hesitate to nod. “I uh—I wanted to go to Norway. With Yoongi…” She glanced over to the side seeing Yoongi give her a more apologetic look which the woman smiled in response. “And maybe you guys too? Get away from the city for a while.” She shrugged. “Might even give me inspiration on the new line.”

He thought on the idea for a moment but quickly had a wide grin on his lips. “Angel’s been talking about going on a holiday. We could talk about it over breakfast.”

“Let me just go freshen up.” Belle patted him on the shoulder before making her up the top level of the apartment to her bedroom.

Being the owner of a prestigious boutique came with its perks when she managed to get a big enough apartment for three people including safety for children. It was in the highly populated areas of the city which is meant to be the best area for the position they were in. With Angel’s first husband and Belle’s connection to the Jeon Cartel, the more witnesses around them, the better.

Walking into her bedroom, Belle had one thing in mind before going to shower as she opened her walk-in closet. On the top shelves a box had been hidden under some folded sheets. She reached out and pulled it towards her feeling the light trickle of dust flow through the air making her sneeze.

Sniffling a little she brought the brown box and sat down on the bed with it. Belle paused for a moment, a very light tinge of dread brushing through her but there was a strength that seemed to power through it. Taking a deep breath she clicked open the box. Two tiny yellow shoes on the right hand side causing her to let out a shaky sigh, smiling a little as a few tears filled her eyes.

Belle held the shoes gently, hugging them to her chest before placing them on her lap. Then her eyes moved from the bracelet to the piece of folded paper. The warmth in her belly soared again taking the letter, unfolding to reveal the heavy promise scratched across the surface. The promise that kept her up at night for this many years. How much words could impact a mind was both fascinating and terrifying.

No more though. It was time. Something her therapist said to her in one session Belle would never forget.

It’s never about one solid destination of healing. You will never know exactly when you were healed. All you can know is when you decide to start or keep healing. That is what’s important. After that, everything will flow by you…in the future, it will all seem like a dream. But you’ll feel so proud of yourself when you look back, Belle. Even more proud than I am of you now. You’ve done so well and I hope you’ll keep healing.

Belle placed her fingers at the top of the letter and ripped it half, letting out a deep of relief as she put them together, ripping it again. Smaller and smaller the pieces became breaking off like petals from the already withering flowers in her heart. A smile widened on her lips as she let out something in the mixture of a chuckle and a sob, tears freely leaving her eyes. Teeny tiny pieces piled on the bed. Helping to remind her that they were just words after all.

With steady hands she gathered them together and threw it into the bin under her nightstand.

Then Belle took the yellow shoes and walked to the living room.

The group were already settling around the kitchen counter when she arrived. Angel had Bloom in a high chair feeding her some custard looking mush which she seemed to enjoy though slightly confused by the taste.

Belle walked over to where the child was and gently placed the yellow shoes on her socked feet. She could not help but grin seeing how it fit perfectly. Everything happens for a reason.

“Those are beautiful.” Angel gently touched the soft fabric. “Did you make them?”

“I got them from the market years ago.” She softly brushed through Blooms’ thin dark hair as the child tried to peek at what her aunt put on her feet.

“We were just talking about the trip to Norway.” Taehyung spoke up leaning against the counter next to Angel.

“Yeah, why was I not invited?” Namjoon pouted a little.

Belle stammered, chuckling lightly. “It was Yoongi’s suggestion…we can all go together. I thought you wanted to do field work for the rest of the year.”

“Still would’ve liked to be included.”

Bloom squeaked in response to Namjoon’s mumble, bouncing up and down her seat.

“Might need a babysitter if Taehyung wants to get laid.” Yoongi mused.

“Ah, language.” Angel covered Blooms’ ears but the baby only grinned wide looking at Yoongi.

“She’s not going to know what it means.”

“Listen, we’ll go together.” Belle silenced the group for a moment. “Namjoon forgets to take breaks from work anyway so it’d be a good way to force him out somewhere relaxing.”

“Norway does have a low crime rate.” Taehyung spoke.

“So it’s settled. We’re going to Norway and forget about our problems for a month.” Angel announced glancing at each one of them for a nod of approval.

Belle grinned seeing the group dive into their conversations about what to do in Norway and what hotels to book or the sights to see. No worries of any impending problem or event that could ruin everything. It was just peace in the loudest way possible. All you can know is when you decide to start or keep healing. That is what’s important.

She broke for her family once.

Now she was going to keep healing for it too.

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A retrospective on some of Broadway’s most important female costume designers across the last century

How much is our memory or perception of a production influenced by the manner in which we visually comprehend the characters for their physical appearance and attire? A lot.

How much attention in memory is often dedicated to celebrating the costume designers who create the visual forms we remember? Comparatively, not much.

Delving through the New York Public Library archives of late, I found I was able to zoom into pictures of productions like Sunday in the Park with George at a magnitude greater than before.

In doing so, I noticed myself marvelling at finer details on the costumes that simply aren’t visible from grainy 1985 proshots, or other lower resolution images.

And marvel I did.

At first, I began to set out to address the contributions made to the show by designer Patricia Zipprodt in collaboration with Ann Hould-Ward. Quickly I fell into a (rather substantial) tangent rabbit hole – concerning over a century’s worth of interconnected designers who are responsible for hundreds of some of the most memorable Broadway shows between them.

It is impossible to look at the work of just one or two of these women without also discussing the others that came before them or were inspired by them.

Journey with me then if you will on this retrospective endeavour to explore the work and legacy that some of these designers have created, and some of the contexts in which they did so.

A set of podcasts featuring Ann Hould-Ward, including Behind the Curtain (Ep. 229) and Broadway Nation (Eps. 17 and 18), invaluably introduce some of the information discussed here and, most crucially, provide a first-hand, verbal link back to this history. The latter show sets out the case for a “succession of dynamic women that goes back to the earliest days of the Broadway musical and continues right up to today”, all of whom “were mentored by one or more of the great [designers] before them, [all] became Tony award-winning [stars] in their own right, and [all] have passed on the [craft] to the next generation.”

A chronological, linear descendancy links these designers across multiple centuries, starting in 1880 with Aline Bernstein, then moving to Irene Sharaff, then to Patricia Zipprodt, then to the present day with Ann Hould-Ward. Other designers branch from or interact with this linear chronology in different ways, such as Florence Klotz and Ann Roth – who, like Patricia Zipprodt, were also mentored by Aline Bernstein – or Theoni V. Aldredge, who stands apart from this connected tree, but whose career closely parallels the chronology of its central portion. There were, of course, many other designers and women also working within this era that provided even further momentous contributions to the world of costume design, but in this piece, the focus will remain primarily on these seven figures.

As the main creditor of the designs for Sunday in the Park with George, let’s start with Patricia (Pat) Zipprodt.

Born in 1925, Pat studied at the Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT) in New York after winning a scholarship there in 1951. Through teaching herself “all of costume history by studying materials at the New York Public Library”, she passed her entrance exam to the United Scenic Artists Union in 1954. This itself was a feat only possible through Aline Bernstein’s pioneering steps in demanding and starting female acceptance into this same union for the first time just under 30 years previously.

Pat made her individual costume design debut a year after assisting Irene Sharaff on Happy Hunting in 1956 – Ethel Merman’s last new Broadway credit. Of the more than 50 shows she subsequently designed, some of Pat’s most significant musicals include: She Loves Me (1963) Fiddler on the Roof (1964) Cabaret (1966) Zorba (1968) 1776 (1969) Pippin (1972) Mack & Mabel (1974) Chicago (1975) Alice in Wonderland (1983) Sunday in the Park with George (1984) Sweet Charity (1986) Into the Woods (1987) - preliminary work

Other notable play credits included: The Little Foxes (1967) The Glass Menagerie (1983) Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1990)

Yes. One person designed all of those shows. Many of the most beloved pieces in modern musical theatre history. Somewhat baffling.

Her work notably earned her 11 Tony nominations, 3 wins, an induction into the Theatre Hall of Fame in 1992, and the Irene Sharaff award for lifetime achievement in costume design in 1997.

By 1983, Pat was one of the most well-respected designers of her era. When the offer for Sunday in the Park with George came in, she was less than enamoured by being confined to the ill-suited basements at Playwright’s Horizons all day, designing full costumes for a story not even yet in existence. From-the-ground-up workshops are common now, but at the time, Sunday was one of the first of its kind.

Rather than flatly declining, she asked Ann Hould-Ward, previously her assistant and intern who had now been designing for 2-3 years on her own, if she was interested in collaborating. She was. The two divided the designing between them, like Pat creating Bernadette’s opening pink and white dress, and Ann her final red and purple dress.

Which indeed leads to the question of the infamous creation worn in the opening number. No attemptedly comprehensive look at the costumes in Sunday would be complete without addressing it or its masterful mechanics.

To enable Bernadette to spring miraculously and seemingly effortlessly from her outer confines, Ann and Pat enlisted the help of a man with a “Theatre Magics” company in Ohio. Dubbed ‘The Iron Dress’, the gasp-inducing motion required a wire frame embedded into the material, entities called ‘moonwalker legs and feet’, and two garage door openers coming up through the stage to lever the two halves apart. The mechanism – highly impressive in its periods of functionality – wasn’t without its flaws. Ann recalls “there were nights during previews where [Bernadette] couldn’t get out of the dress”. Or worse, a night where “the dress closed up completely. And it wouldn’t open up again!”. As Bernadette finished her number, there was nothing else within her power she could do, so she simply “grabbed it under her arm and carried it off stage.”

What visuals. Evidently, the course of costume design is not always plain sailing.

This sentiment is exhibited in the fact design work is a physical materialisation of other creators’ visions, thus foregrounding the tricky need for collaboration and compromise. This is at once a skill, very much part of the job description, and not always pleasant – in navigating any divides between one’s own ideas and those of other people.

Sunday in the Park with George was no exception in requiring such a moment of compromise and revision. With the show already on Broadway in previews, Stephen Sondheim decreed the little girl Louise’s dress “needs to be white” – not the “turquoisey blue” undertone Pat and Ann had already created it with. White, to better spotlight the painting’s centre.

Requests for alterations are easier to comprehend when they are done with equanimity and have justification. Sondheim said he would pay for the new dress himself, and in Seurat’s original painting, the little girl is very brightly the focal centre point of the piece. On this occasion, all agreed that Sondheim was “absolutely right”. A new dress was made.

Other artistic differences aren’t always as amicable.

In Pat Zipprodt’s first show, Happy Hunting with Ethel Merman in 1956, some creatives and directors were getting in vociferous, progress-stopping arguments over a dress and a scene in which Ethel was to jump over a fence. Then magically, the dress went missing. Pat was working at the time as an assistant to the senior Irene Sharaff, and Pat herself was the one to find the dress the next morning. It was in the basement. Covered in black and wholly unwearable. Sharaff had spray painted the dress black in protest against the “bickering”. Indeed, Sharaff disappeared, not to be seen again until the show arrived on Broadway.

Those that worked with her soon found that Sharaff was one to be listened to and respected – as Hal Prince did during West Side Story. After the show opened in 1957, Hal replaced her 40 pairs of meticulously created and individually dyed, battered, and re-dyed jeans with off-the-rack copies. His reasoning was this: “How foolish to be wasting money when we can make a promotional arrangement with Levi Strauss to supply blue jeans free for program credit?” A year later, he looked at their show, and wondered “What’s happened?”

What had happened was that the production had lost its spark and noticeable portions of its beauty, vibrancy, and subtle individuality. Sharaff’s unique creations quickly returned, and Hal had learned his lesson. By the time Sharaff’s mentee, Pat, had “designed the most expensive rags for the company to wear” with this same idiosyncratic dyeing process for Fiddler on the Roof in 1964, Hal recognised the value of this particularity and the disproportionately large payoff even ostensibly simple garments can bring.

Irene Sharaff is remembered as one of the greatest designers ever. Born in 1910, she was mentored by Aline Bernstein, first assisting her on 1928’s original staging of Hedda Gabler.

Throughout her 56 year career, she designed more than 52 Broadway musicals. Some particularly memorable entities include: The Boys from Syracuse (1938) Lady in the Dark (1943) Candide (1956) Happy Hunting (1956) Sweet Charity (1966) The King and I (1951, 1956) West Side Story (1957, 1961) Funny Girl (1964, 1968)

For the last three productions, she would reprise her work on Broadway in the subsequent and indelibly enduring film adaptations of the same shows.

Her work in the theatre earned her 6 Tony nominations and 1 win, though her work in Hollywood was perhaps even more well rewarded – earning 5 Academy Awards from a total of 15 nominations.

Some of Sharaff’s additional film credits included: Meet Me in St. Louis (1944) Ziegfeld Follies (1946) An American in Paris (1951) Call Me Madam (1953) A Star is Born (1954) – partial Guys and Dolls (1955) Cleopatra (1963) Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966) Hello Dolly! (1969) Mommie Dearest (1981)

It’s a remarkable list. But it is too more than just a list.

Famously, Judy’s red scarlet ballgown in Meet Me in St. Louis was termed the “most sophisticated costume [she’d] yet worn on the screen.”

It has been written that Sharaff’s “last film was probably the only bad one on which she worked,” – the infamous pillar of camp culture, Mommie Dearest, in 1981 – “but its perpetrators knew that to recreate the Hollywood of Joan Crawford, it required an artist who understood the particular glamour of the Crawford era.” And at the time, there were very few – if any – who could fill that requirement better than Irene Sharaff.

The 1963 production of Cleopatra is perhaps an even more infamous endeavour. Notoriously fraught with problems, the film was at that point the most expensive ever made. It nearly bankrupted 20th Century Fox, in light of varying issues like long production delays, a revolving carousel of directors, the beginning of the infamous Burton/Taylor affair and resulting media storm, and bouts of Elizabeth’s ill-health that “nearly killed her”. In that turbulent environment, Sharaff is highlighted as one of the figures instrumental in the film’s eventual completion – “adjusting Elizabeth Taylor’s costumes when her weight fluctuated overnight” so the world finally received the visual spectacle they were all ardently anticipating.

But even beyond that, Sharaff’s work had impacts more significantly and extensively than the immediate products of the shows or films themselves. Within a few years of her “vibrant Thai silk costumes for ‘The King and I’ in 1951, …silk became Thailand’s best-known export.” Her designs changed the entire economic landscape of the country.

It’s little wonder that in that era, Sharaff was known as “one of the most sought-after and highest-paid people in her profession.” With discussions and favourable comparisions alongside none other than Old Hollywood’s most beloved designer, Edith Head, Irene deserves her place in history to be recognised as one of the foremost significant pillars of the design world.

In this respected position, Irene Sharaff was able to pass on her knowledge by mentoring others too as well as Patricia Zipprodt, like Ann Roth and Florence Klotz, who have in turn gone on to further have their own highly commendable successes in the industry.

Florence “Flossie” Klotz, born in 1920, is the only Broadway costume designer to have won six Tony awards. She did so, all of them for musicals, and all of them directed by Hal Prince, in a marker of their long and meaningful collaboration.

Indeed, Flossie’s life partner was Ruth Mitchell – Hal’s long-time assistant, and herself legendary stage manager, associate director and producer of over 43 shows. Together, Flossie and Ruth were dubbed a “power couple of Broadway”.

Flossie’s shows with Hal included: Follies (1971) A Little Night Music (1973) Pacific Overtures (1976) Grind (1985) Kiss of the Spiderwoman (1993) Show Boat (1995)

And additional shows amongst her credits extend to: Side by Side by Sondheim (1977) On the Twentieth Century (1978) The Little Foxes (1981) A Doll’s Life (1982) Jerry’s Girls (1985)

Earlier in her career, she would first find her footing as an assistant designer on some of the Golden Age’s most pivotal shows like: The King and I (1951) Pal Joey (1952) Silk Stockings (1955) Carousel (1957) The Sound of Music (1959)

The original production of Follies marked the first time Florence was seriously recognised for her work. Before this point, she was not yet anywhere close to being considered as having broken into the ranks of Broadway’s “reigning designers” of that era. Follies changed matters, providing both an indication of the talent of her work to come, and creating history in being commended for producing some of the “best costumes to be seen on Broadway” in recent memory – as Clive Barnes wrote in The New York Times. Fuller discussion is merited given that the costumes of Follies are always one of the show’s central points of debate and have been crucial to the reception of the original production as well as every single revival that has followed in the 50 years since.

In this instance, Ted Chapin would record from his book ‘Everything Was Possible: The Birth of the Musical ‘Follies’ how “the costumes were so opulent, they put the show over-budget.” Moreover, that “talking about the show years later, [Florence] said the costumes could not be made today. ‘Not only would they cost upwards of $2 million, but we used fabrics from England that aren’t even made anymore.’” Broadway then does indeed no longer look like Broadway now.

This “surreal tableau” Flossie created, including “three-foot-high ostrich feather headdresses, Marie Antoinette wigs adorned with musical instruments and birdcages, and gowns embellished with translucent butterfly wings”, remains arguably one of the most impressive and jaw-dropping spectacles to have ever graced a Broadway stage even to this day.

As for Ann Roth, born in 1931, she is still to this day making her own history – recently becoming the joint eldest nominee at 89 for an Oscar (her 5th), for her work on 2020′s Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. Now as of April 26th, Ann has just made history even further by becoming the oldest woman to win a competitive Academy Award ever. She has an impressive array of Hollywood credits to her name in addition to a roster of Broadway design projects, which have earned her 12 Tony nominations.

Some of her work in the theatre includes: The Women (1973) The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas (1978) They're Playing Our Song (1979) Singin' in the Rain (1985) Present Laughter (1996) Hedda Gabler (2009) A Raisin in the Sun (2014) Shuffle Along (2016) The Prom (2018)

Making her way over to Hollywood in the ‘70s, she has left an indelible and lasting visual impact on the arts through films like: Klute (1971) The Goodbye Girl (1977) Hair (1979) 9 to 5 (1980) Silkwood (1983) Postcards from the Edge (1990) The Birdcage (1996) The Hours (2002) Mamma Mia! (2008) Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (2020)

It’s clear from this branching 'tree' to see how far the impact of just one woman passing on her time and knowledge to others who are starting out can spread.

This art of acting as a conduit for valuable insights was something Irene Sharaff had learned from her own mentor and predecessor, Aline Bernstein. Aline was viewed as “the first woman in the [US] to gain prominence in the male-dominated field of set and costume design,” and was too a strong proponent of passing on the unique knowledge she had acquired as a pioneer and forerunner in the field.

Born in 1880, Bernstein is recognised as “one of the first theatrical designers in New York to make sets and costumes entirely from scratch and craft moving sets” while Broadway was still very much in its infancy of taking shape as the world we know today. This she did for more than one hundred shows over decades of her work in the theatre. These shows included the spectacular Grand Street Follies (1924-27), and original premier productions of plays like some of the following: Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler (1928) J.M Barrie’s Peter Pan (1928) Grand Hotel (1930) Phillip Barry’s Animal Kingdom (1932) Chekov’s The Seagull (1937) Both Lillian Hellman’s The Children’s Hour (1934) and The Little Foxes (1939)

Beyond direct design work, Bernstein founded what was to become the Neighbourhood Playhouse (the notable New York acting school) and was influential in the “Little Theatre movement that sprung up across America in 1910”. These were the “forerunners of the non-profit theatres we see today” and she continued to work in this realm even after moving into commercial theatre.

Bernstein also established the Museum of Costume Art, which later became the Costume Institute of the Met Museum of Art, where she served as president from 1944 to her death in 1955. This is what the Met Gala raises money for every year. So for long as you have the world’s biggest celebrities parading up and down red carpets in high fashion pieces, you have Aline Bernstein to remember – as none of that would be happening without her.

During the last fifteen years of her life, Bernstein taught and served as a consultant in theatre programs at academic institutions including Yale, Harvard, and Vassar – keen to connect the community and facilitate an exchange of wisdom and information to new descendants and the next generation.

Many designers came somewhere out of this linear descendancy. One notable exception, with no American mentor, was Theoni V. Aldredge. Born in 1922 and trained in Greece, Theoni emigrated to the US, met her husband, Tom Aldredge – himself of Into the Woods and theatre notoriety – and went on to design more than 100 Broadway shows. For her work, she earned 3 Tony wins from 11 nominations from projects such as: Anyone Can Whistle (1964) A Chorus Line (1975) Annie (1977) Barnum (1980) 42nd Street (1980) Woman of the Year (1981) Dreamgirls (1981) La Cage aux Folles (1983) The Rink (1984)

One of the main features that typify Theoni’s design style and could be attributed to a certain unique and distinctive “European flair” is her strong use of vibrant colour. This is a sentiment instantly apparent in looking longitudinally at some of her work.

In Ann Hould-Ward’s words, Theoni speaks to the “great generosity” of this profession. Theoni went out of her way to call Ann apropos of nothing early in the morning at some unknown hotel just after Ann won her first Tony for Beauty and the Beast in 1994, purring “Dahhling, I told you so!” These were women that had their disagreements, yes, but ultimately shared their knowledge and congratulated each other for their successes.

Similar anecdotal goodwill can be found in Pat Zipprodt’s call to Ann on the night of the 1987 Tony’s – where Ann was nominated for Into the Woods – with Pat singing “Have wonderful night! You’re not gonna win! …[laugh] but I love you anyway!”

This well-wishing phone call is all the more poignant considering Pat was originally involved with doing the costumes for Into the Woods, in reprise of their previous collaboration on Sunday in the Park with George.

If, for example, Theoni instinctively is remembered for bright colour, one of the features that Pat is first remembered for is her dedicated approach to research for her designs. Indeed, the New York Public Library archives document how the remaining physical evidence of this research she conducted is “particularly thorough” in the section on Into the Woods. Before the show finally hit Broadway in 1987 with Ann Hould-Ward’s designs, records show Pat had done extensive investigation herself into materials, ideas and prospective creations all through 1986.

Both Ann and Pat worked on the show out of town in try-outs at the Old Globe theatre in San Diego. But when it came to negotiating Broadway contracts, the situation became “tricky” and later “untenable” with Pat and the producers. Ann was “allowed to step in and design” the show alone instead.

The lack of harboured resentment on Patricia’s behalf speaks to her character and the pair’s relationship, such that Ann still considered her “my dear and beloved friend” for over 25 years, and was “at [Pat’s] bed when she died”.

Though they parted ways ultimately for Into the Woods, you can very much feel a continuation between their work on Sunday in the Park with George a few years previously, especially considering how tactile the designs appear in both shows. This tactility is something the shows’ book writer and director, James Lapine, was specific about. Lapine would remark in his initial ideas and inspirations that he wanted a graphic quality to the costumes on this occasion, like “so many sketches of the fairy-tales do”.

Ann fed that sentiment through her final creations, with a wide variety of materials and textures being used across the whole show – like “ribbons with ribbons seamed through them”, “all sorts of applique”, “frothy organzas and rembriodered organzas”. A specific example documents how Joanna Gleason’s shawl as the Baker’s Wife was pieced together, cut apart, and put back together again before resembling its final form.

This highly involved principle demonstrates another manner of inventive design that uses a different method but maintains the aim of particularity as discussed previously with Patricia and Irene’s complex dyeing and re-dyeing process. Pushing the confines of what is possible with the materials at hand to create a variety of colours, shades, and textures ultimately produces visual entities that are complex to look at. Confusing the eye like this “holds attention longer”, Ann maintains, which makes viewers look more intricately at individual segments of the production, and enables the costume design to guide specific focus by not immediately ceding attention elsewhere.

Understanding the methods behind the resultant impacts of a show can be as, if not more, important and interesting than the final product of the show itself sometimes. A phone call Ann had last August with James Lapine reminds us this is a notion we may be treated more to in the imminent future, when he called to enquire as to the location of some design sketches for the book he is working on (Putting It Together: How Stephen Sondheim and I Created 'Sunday in the Park with George') to document more thoroughly the genesis of the pair’s landmark and beloved musical.

In continuation of the notion that origin stories contain their own intrinsic value beyond any final product, Ann first became Pat’s intern through a heart-warming and tenacious tale. Ann sent letters to three notable designers when finishing graduate school. Only Patricia Zipprodt replied, with a message to say she “didn’t have anything now but let me think about it and maybe in the future.” It got to the future, and Ann took the encouragement of her previous response to try and contact Pat again. Upon being told she was out of town with a show, Ann proceeded to chase Pat through various phone books and telephone wires across different states and theatres until she finally found her. She was bolstered by the specifics of their call and ran off the phone to write an imploring note – hinging on the premise of a shared connection to Montana. She took an arrow, stabbed it through a cowboy hat, put it in a box with the note that was written on raw hide, and mailed it to New York with bated breath and all of her hopes and wishes.

Pat was knife-edgingly close to missing the box, through a matter of circumstance and timing. Importantly, she didn’t. Ann got a response, and it boded well: “Alright alright alright! You can come to New York!”

Subsequently, Ann’s long career in the design world of the theatre has included notable credits such as: Sunday in the Park with George (1984) Into the Woods (1987, 1997) Falsettos (1992) Beauty and the Beast (1994, 1997) Little Me (1998) Company (2006) Road Show (2008) The People in the Picture (2011) Merrily We Roll Along (1985, 1990, 2012, segment in Six by Sondheim 2013) Passion (2013) The Visit (2015) The Color Purple (2015) The Prince of Egypt (2021)

From early days in the city sleeping on a piece of foam on a friend’s floor, to working collaboratively alongside Pat, to using what she’d learnt from her mentor in designing whole shows herself, and going on to win prestigious awards for her work – the cycle of the theatre and the importance of handing down wisdom from those who possess it is never more evident.

As Ann summarises it meaningfully, “the theatre is a continuing, changing, evolving, emotional ball”. It’s raw, it’s alive, it needs people, it needs stories, it needs documentation of history to remember all that came before.

In periods where there can physically be no new theatre, it’s made ever the more clear for the need not to forget what value there is in the tales to be told from the past.

Through this retrospective, we’ve seen the tour de force influence of a relatively small handful of women shaping a relatively large portion of the visual scape of some of Broadway’s brightest moments.

But it’s significant to consider how disproportionate this female impact was, in contrast with how massively male dominated the rest of the creative theatre industry has been across the last century.

Assessing variations in attitudes and approaches to relationships and families in these women in the context of their professional careers over this time period presents interesting observations. And indeed, manners in which things have changed over the past hundred years.

As Ann Hould-Ward speaks of her experiences, one of her reflections is how much this was a “very male dominated world”. And one that didn’t accommodate for women with families who also wanted careers. As an intern, she didn’t even feel she could tell Patricia Zipprodt about the existence of her own young child until after 6 months of working with her. With all of these male figures around them, it would be often questioned “How are you going to do the work? How are you going to manage [with a family]?”, and that it was “harder to convince people that you were going to be able to do out-of-towns, to be able to go places.” Simply put, the industry “didn't have many designers who were married with children.”

Patricia herself in the previous generation demonstrates this restricting ethos. “In 1993, Zipprodt married a man whose proposal she had refused some 43 years earlier.” She had just newly graduated college and “she declined [his proposal] and instead moved to New York.” Faced with the family or career conundrum, she chose the latter. By the 1950s, it then wasn’t seen as uncommon to have both, it was seen as impossible.

Her husband died just five years after the pair were married in 1998, as did Patricia herself the following year. One has to wonder if alternative decisions would’ve been made and lives lived differently if she’d experienced a different context for working women in her younger life.

But occupying any space in the theatre at all was only possible because of the efforts of and strides made by women in previous generations.

When Aline Bernstein first started designing for Broadway theatre in 1916, women couldn’t even vote. She became the first female member of the United Scenic Artists of America union in 1926, but only because she was sworn in under the false and male moniker of brother Bernstein. In fact, biographies often centralise on her involvement in a “passionate” extramarital love affair with novelist Thomas Wolfe – disproportionately so for all of her remarkable contributions to the theatrical, charitable and academic worlds, and instead having her life defined through her interactions with men.

As such, it is apparent how any significant interactions with men often had direct implications over a woman’s career, especially in this earlier half of the century. Only in their absence was there comparative capacity to flourish professionally.

Irene Sharaff had no notable relationships with men. She did however have a significant partnership with Chinese-American painter and writer Mai-mai Sze from “the mid-1930s until her death”. Though this was not (nor could not be) publicly recognised or documented at the time, later by close acquaintances the pair would be described as a “devoted couple”, “inseparable”, and as holding “love and admiration for one another [that] was apparent to everyone who knew them.” This manner of relationship for Irene in the context of her career can be theorised as having allowed her the capacity to “reach a level of professional success that would have been unthinkable for most straight women of [her] generation”.

Moving forwards in time, Irene and Mai-mai presently rest where their ashes are buried under “two halves of the same rock” at the entrance to the Music and Meditation Pavilion at Lucy Cavendish College in Cambridge, which was “built following a donation by Sharaff and Sze”. I postulate that this site would make for an interesting slice of history and a perhaps more thought-provoking deviation for tourists away from being shepherded up and down past King’s College on King’s Parade as more usually upon a visit to Cambridge.

In this more modern society at the other end of this linear tree of remarkable designers, options for women to be more open and in control of their personal and professional lives have increased somewhat.

Ann Hould-Ward later in her career would no longer “hide that [she] was a mother”, in fear of not being taken seriously. Rather, she “made a concerted effort to talk about [her] child”, saying “because at that point I had a modicum of success. And I thought it was supportive for other women that I could do this.”

If one aspect passed down between these women in history are details of the craft and knowledge accrued along the way, this statement by Ann represents an alternative facet and direction that teaching of the future can take. Namely, that by showing through example, newer generations will be able to comprehend the feasibility of occupying different options and spaces as professional women. Existing not just as designers, or wives, or mothers, or all, or one – but as people, who possess an immense talent and skill. And that it is now not just possible, but common, to be multifaceted and live the way you want to live while working.

This is not to say all of the restrictions and barriers faced by women in previous generations have been removed, but rather that as we build a larger wealth of history of women acting with autonomy and control to refer back to, things can only get easier to build upon for the future.

Who knows what Broadway and theatre in general will look like when it returns – both on the surface with respect to this facet of costume design, and also more deeply as to the inner machinations of how shows are put together and presented. The largely male environment and the need to tick corporate and commercial boxes will not have vanished. One can only hope that this long period of stasis will have foregrounded the need and, most importantly, provided the time to revaluate the ethos in which shows are often staged, and the ways in which minority groups – like women – are able to work and be successful within the theatre in all of the many shows to come.

Notable sources:

Photographs – predominantly from the New York Public Library digital archives. IBDB – the Internet Broadway Database. Broadway Nation Podcast (Eps. #17 and #18), David Armstrong, featuring Ann Hould-Ward, 2020. Behind the Curtain: Broadway’s Living Legends Podcast (Ep. #229), Robert W Schneider and Kevin David Thomas, featuring Ann Hould-Ward, 2020. Sense of Occasion, Harold Prince, 2017. Everything Was Possible: The Birth of the Musical ‘Follies’, Ted Chapin, 2003. Finishing the Hat: Collected Lyrics (1954–1981) with Attendant Comments, Principles, Heresies, Grudges, Whines and Anecdotes, Stephen Sondheim, 2010. The Complete Book of 1970s Broadway Musicals, Dan Deitz, 2015. The Complete Book of 1980s Broadway Musicals, Dan Dietz, 2016. Inventory of the Patricia Zipprodt Papers and Designs at the New York Public Library, 2004 – https://www.nypl.org/sites/default/files/archivalcollections/pdf/thezippr.pdf Extravagant Crowd’s Carl Van Vecten’s Portraits of Women, Aline Bernstein – http://brbl-archive.library.yale.edu/exhibitions/cvvpw/gallery/bernstein.html Jewish Heroes & Heroines of America: 150 True Stories of American Jewish Heroism – Aline Bernstein, Seymour Brody, 1996 – https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/aline-bernstein Ann Hould-Ward Talks Original “Into the Woods” Costume Designs, 2016 – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4EPe77c6xzo&ab_channel=Playbill American Theatre Wing’s Working in the Theatre series, The Design Panel, 1993 – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9sp-aMQHf-U&t=2167s&ab_channel=AmericanTheatreWing Journal of the History of Ideas Blog, Mai-mai Sze and Irene Sharaff in Public and in Private, Erin McGuirl, 2016 – https://jhiblog.org/2016/05/16/mai-mai-sze-and-irene-sharaff-in-public-and-in-private/ Irene Sharaff’s obituary, The New York Times, Marvine Howe, 1993 – https://www.nytimes.com/1993/08/17/obituaries/irene-sharaff-designer-83-dies-costumes-won-tony-and-oscars.html Obituary: Irene Sharaff, The Independent, David Shipman, 2011 – https://www.independent.co.uk/news/people/obituary-irene-sharaff-1463219.html Broadway Design Exchange – Florence Klotz – https://www.broadwaydesignexchange.com/collections/florence-klotz Obituary: Florence Klotz, The New York Times, 2006 – https://www.nytimes.com/2006/11/03/obituaries/03klotz.html

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