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issasama · 3 months

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Nothing lasts forever

Fem’Reader X Yuji Itadori

“I do it solo” -Demi Lovato

Summary: Reader has been struggling to let go of people but she understand she needs to protect her peace and herself, so impulsively she removes and unfollows a “friend”. Now the weight was gone, but she wasn’t expecting the flood of emotions, she’s been acting different and eventually it’s noticed…

this was a personal mini story, it does suck letting go but just remember, you are never alone. 🤍

JJK Character: Yuji Itadori

Yuji Itadori

“Just do it” your best friend entices you, the phone call had been going on for an hour already with you expressing your thoughts and feelings. You just couldn’t get the idea of removing so many people out of your head, but the feelings of what would come after are what made your heart ache. You ended up doing it anyways, you unfollowed and removed them, at first you felt okay.. until the weight of what you did pulled at your heart. You didn’t say anything aside from “I did it” to let your best friend know you went through with it. “Good, now move on and leave it alone”, it seemed harsh, the words, but you knew it came from a place of love. “Thanks again, for listening, I’ll talk to you later, Gojo was looking for me to talk about our next mission” and with that you hung up the phone. You weren’t entirely wrong, you did have another mission coming up but Gojo was not looking for you, you just needed some fresh air.

You were in just an oversized shirt and shorts, but considering it was a bit dark outside it shouldn’t have mattered what you were wearing, you just wanted to take your mind off of things. You left everything in your room and went out, quietly closing the door to make sure no one would wake up. Usually Megumi would be up around this time to let his cat out but there was no sight of him either. You leaned over the wooden balcony/fence, it was a little cold but it seemed to numb the feeling you had so you didn’t seem to mind it. “1..2..3..5..9..12” you began counting the stars, anything to keep your mind off of the racing thoughts. Why did letting go have to hurt so much? You were hit with so much nostalgia it made you nauseous, back when you were a kid running around with not a care in the world. Before you could bury yourself in your emotions you saw something move from the corner of your eye, it was a white bunny. It belonged to Yuji, her name was “Minnie” and for a bunny she was pretty smart. You bent down and stuck your arms out, signaling her to come over to you and she did, her little jumps making the floor creak.

You cupped her into your arms gently and she buried her little head into you, assuring you she was comfortable and trusted you. You smiled at how soft and warm she was, it was peaceful, you needed it. “Ah man, Gojo’s gonna kill me” you hear Yuji’s voice from a distance and looked over to see him walking around in pajama pants and a white t-shirt, he was wearing those funny grandpa slippers too. It made you laugh seeing how messy his hair looked on top of the shoes, he looked over startled and was relieved to see it was you. “Minnie!” He softly exclaimed, “You found her y/n” and you could hear the relief in his voice. “I took my eye off of her for one minute and somehow she got out”..”So that’s what you were doing out here all on your own?” You looked at the bunny who seemed to be acting innocent. “Why are you out here, isn’t it late?” Yuji asked in confusion, he was right, it was pretty late and you’re never out at night, at least not like this.

“Couldn’t sleep.. I just wanted some fresh air” you turned away from him a little, another lie leaving your lips, you needed more than just fresh air. “Oh okay” he could tell something was wrong but wasn’t sure how to address it or if he should, he leaned on the balcony/fence and looked up at the stars. From the corner of your eye you could see how intrigued he was, as if he’s never seen stars before. “I hope whatever you’re going through, you know you’re not alone.” His voice was so soft but the statement was a bit bold so it caught you off guard. You didn’t say anything, you were still holding Minnie in your arms, enveloping yourself in the warmth she radiated. “She knows you’re not okay”, “That’s why she’s cuddling you like that, animals can sense when a person is sad, so she’s trying to-“ you couldn’t take it anymore and started sniffling to fight back tears. “I’m sorry?! Did I say something wrong?! I didn’t mean to offended you-“ Yuji started freaking out, not expecting you to cry, you never do this is the first time he’s seen you do so.

“It’s too much..” you started crying, Yuji frowned, he hated seeing you like this. “Letting go hurts, I hate it so much, leaving people behind, even when I know I need to, even when I know it’s best for me, I just, I don’t know..” you held Minnie a little tighter with each sentence. “What if I made the wrong choice? What if I have to live with that regret? Or what if-“, “You’re overthinking it, y/n” Yuji cut you off, he saw how badly you were in your head and it made his heart ache. “If you ever have to come to the decision of cutting someone out of your life, it’s more than likely because it was the right thing to do. You should never regret doing something like that because you’re protecting yourself.” He gently placed his hands on your cheeks, wiping some of the tear stains away, “And anyone dumb enough to not treat you with the same kindness you give them is just an idiot, you deserve more than what you give, stop thinking less than that.” You looked at him, eyes still glossy from the tears but you gave him a warm smile, because you knew his words were genuine. He was right.

You neglect yourself for others and you hurt your own peace every time you do it. You’re so kind and yet when it’s not reciprocated you’re hurt, you can’t afford to do that anymore, you deserve better. Yuji’s eyes widened when you kissed him, it was impulsive and when you realized what you just did you pulled back, “I’m so sorry. That was the heat of the moment and I-“ but you were cut off by a kiss back, his hands found their way to your waist, hugging your lower back. The kiss lasted 3 seconds before you both pulled away from each other, he still held onto you. “I like you, y/n, and you deserve all the stars the sky could have to offer. You deserve more love, especially from yourself, so please, you’re going to be okay but in the meanwhile, love who you are, and don’t worry about anyone else.” He gave you that look again, like he was hurt but hoping you’d agree and when you nodded he gave you such a sweet smile you nearly melted.

“Let’s go inside before it’s too dark out, this time Minnie, you’re going back in your bed.” You laughed at the way Yuji seemed so serious and grouchy about her escaping, but if she didn’t, you wouldn’t of found yourself like this or Yuji. So you were grateful she did escape, but you’d never let Yuji know, at least not while he’s still a hot head.

The End. 🌷

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justagirlinafandomworld · 1 year

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Title: On the Outside

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader (Y/N)

Word Count: 2195

Summary: To get Dean to say yes to Michael, they sent him to the Endverse. And when that didn’t work, they turned to you.

Warnings: Time travel, time jumps, ANGST. Language. Endverse!Dean.

Bingo Squares Filled: @howbadcanitbebingo – which character is speaking?

Writing Challenge Prompts: “And maybe it'll be enough if you know that in the few hours we had together we loved a lifetime's worth.” (The Terminator) & Supernatural Season 5 Episode The End for @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior-warrior ‘s 500 Follower Celebration. “It must be nice to love someone who puts you first.” For @negans-lucille-tblr ‘s N-L-Threenager Writing Challenge.

A/N: This is one of those stories where, while it was all very clear in my head, I could not get it down into words. Then life happened, I had a break down and now bon appétit. Bee, I do apologize, I tried very hard to get this down to an even 2k. The characters just weren’t having it.

Dividers provided by @talesmaniac89

2014. Endverse.

Fire lit up the darkness in small explosions. A live inferno that devoured everything in sight. Heat licked at your fingertips through the linked fence, smoke splashed your cheeks and watered your eyes.

Dean had failed.

And the demons celebrated.

Three Days Earlier.

Chuck hurried up to you, his clipboard in hand and a string of worries on the tip of his tongue.

The last mission’s duffle was still slung across your shoulders, the rifle at your back, and the blood of a comrade still splattered across the front of your jacket. You sidestepped the prophet, fully intent on reaching your cabin and decompressing before hearing more bad news.

“…and you know how Cas is. By the way, Dean wants you on tomorrow’s caravan to the second camp. They’re going over their supplies now, which isn’t a lot, but they plan to head out at dawn.”

You stopped in the middle of the dirt path so suddenly that Chuck narrowly avoided walking into you.

Reading the confusion on your face, Chuck backtracked as if suddenly realizing that you were returning from a week-long mission.

“Right, so the plan is to help reinforce a fledgling camp on the other side of the state. We discovered them on the radio four days ago and Dean thinks,” he didn’t get to finish his thought as you unceremoniously shoved your duffel into his arms and started to take off in the direction of Dean’s cabin. “So, we’ll talk later?”

“Oh, you’re back,” Risa drawled. She stood outside the door to Dean’s cabin, arms crossed, and a foot kicked back to rest against the wall. Her mood seemed to match your own, which was fine, it was hard to find any sane person who wasn’t even a little bit irritable these days. But you didn’t appreciate the welcome.

“Is he in?” You asked.

“That depends…”

In no mood to play games, you pushed through to the door, ignoring her heated “hey!” and letting it swing wide on it’s hinges to slam into the wall behind it before stepping inside.

“Hi honey, I’m home,” you seethed.

Dean stood from the table, turning to you with an expression that was less than pleased. And though it was twisted, it felt good to know that you could still evoke an emotion out of him, even if that emotion was annoyance.

“Y/N?”

At the second voice, you tore your eyes away from Dean to the second person seated at the table behind him. In the next breath, you reached for the rifle at your back, but Dean had already braced himself against you, a hand on yours, staying the weapon.

The world seemed to be crashing around your ears as you kept a hard gaze on the person at the table, not really hearing Dean at your ear until he called your name.

“I checked, okay? He’s good. He’s…me.”

Holding your breath, you pulled your gaze back to Dean’s, violating every instinct that shouted against it. His expression was grim, but he stared deeply into your eyes, willing you to believe him.

It was the seated man’s slow, uncertain wave of the hand and awkward smile that had you slowly exhaling. Because you could see that it was him. Dean, before the end of the world.

“What are you doing here?” You asked while stepping away from Dean, your hand sliding out from under his. And if his jaw tightened in response, you ignored it.

“Risa, will you…” Dean trailed off, but the order was clear. With a stiff lip, she pulled the door back shut, obediently waiting outside for further orders.

The Dean at the table looked at the one behind you, as if waiting for his permission to speak.

“Angels,” the Dean behind you said. “From his time, not ours. He’s here to learn a lesson.”

The Dean at the table shrugged as if that were the gist of it. But you could feel that there was something they were holding back. And that reeked of your present-day Dean.

“And you’re going to teach him, are you?” You turned back to him, still nonsensically itching for a fight.

Sensing this, Dean refrained from answering. But the confusion as to why you persisted was visible on his face.

“Do you two need a moment? I can step outside.”

“No,” Dean answered without looking away from you. “I’m not teaching him anything. He’s going to see for himself.”

There was your opening.

“What is he going to see?”

The silence became deafening as suddenly your Dean refused to speak. When you stepped back to have both in your sight, the contrast was utterly jarring. You had been there, before the apocalypse, had been apart of the inner circle to defeat the devil. You were there when everything went wrong and helplessly watched as Dean became the jagged shell of who he used to be. After so many losses, you were on the outside now. And you didn’t know how to get back in. If there was anything to get back into.

The fire in your voice faded as you pushed, “What’s the deal with the second camp? Is that a real mission or are you purposefully sending me away so that I’m not apart of whatever this is?”

“It’s real and I need you on it.” His tone had hardened into that veteran soldier giving orders. “Now will you please go help them and we will talk about this later.”

Grinding your teeth, you couldn’t help the instinct to adhere to his command. He wasn’t about to budge and you were losing energy trying. Without a word, you stalked back out of the cabin, slamming the door behind you for good measure. A snark comment from Risa on the porch had you halting on the stairs.

“What did you say?”

She pushed off from the wall, staring down at you with all the anger and hurt that you felt.

“I said it must be nice. To love someone who puts you first. It’s an evacuation.”

You stared at her, not trusting yourself to speak.

“Look at the roster if you don’t believe me. He’s getting everyone out. Including you.”

The camp continued to move around you as you digested her meaning until realization dawned, quickly followed by disbelief.

“He found it.”

“He sure did.”

“And you’re going with him tomorrow.”

“Like a sheep to the slaughter.”

And somehow, that hurt more. You kept from looking back at the cabin and continued down the steps. It didn’t take long for Chuck to find you again, still carrying your duffel bag and talking in a fluster, before ushering you towards the people you would be escorting to the second camp. And damn it, but Risa was right. Women, children, and the wounded were slated for the caravan.

An evacuation.

You didn’t get back to your cabin until nightfall. Weighted by exhaustion both physically and mentally, you barely reacted when you walked in to find a visitor seated on your bed.

“I’m exhausted, Dean. Is this you or past you?”

“I’m offended you have to ask.”

Finally shrugging out of your bloodied jacket, you threw it down onto the nearest surface and rested your hands on your hips.

“Well, right now, I’m offended by your face.”

And damn him, that your response only made him smile. It wasn’t the full bloom smile that you had fallen in love with all those years ago, but it was the closest he had come to in a long time.

“I thought you liked my face.”

“Not right now.”

He shut his eyes and sighed, as if that exchange alone caused him a great effort. “Will you come here?” He pat the bedspread beside him.

In defiance, you pulled a wobbly chair from the wall, dragged it two feet from the bed and fell into it with crossed arms. He watched you with pursed lips but said nothing on it.

“You have questions, so let’s hear it.”

“Where’s the other Dean?”

His mouth dropping open was the only sign that you had caught him off guard. Licking his lips he cocked his head to the side and tried to play it off.

“He’s safe.”

You raised your eyebrows and remained silent.

“Is this really what you want to talk about?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you found Lucifer’s hideout?”

“I was a little preoccupied…”

“Not too preoccupied to make arrangements to send me away.”

“That…” and for a moment he appeared to struggle to find his next words. “…was a calculated decision.”

“Based on what?"

“I was trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” he scoffed at that, but you kept going. “I need you to let me in. Were you really just going to send me away with no word of warning? Without so much as a goodbye?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because if I die, I need to know that you’re nowhere near him. I need to know that you’re far away and safe. I,” he took a deep breath. “I need to know that he won’t touch you. And this…”

His eyes went far away, lost in his plans for what was to come. But you leaned forward in your seat, searching for his gaze, to bring him back and let him know that you weren’t buying it.

“This doesn’t ensure that. You dying, alone doesn’t protect me, Dean.” His eyes narrowed and lifted as if he were about to argue. But he didn’t. Because your face gave it away before your words. “All it’s going to do is break my fucking heart.”

Tears trailed down your cheeks and your hands gripped your arms tighter because you wanted so badly to still be mad at him. To kick, yell, and scream at him that this was the wrong choice. He was making the wrong choice.

He moved forward, helped you to stand then encircled you in his arms, pressed your head into his chest. Your body trembled with every breath as you tried to keep the tide at bay.

“Is there anything I can say to change your mind?”

He pressed you tighter against him.

He didn’t answer.

But that was answer enough.

He was done fighting. You had lost him the second Sam said yes.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, thumbs rubbing into his back.

“Can I stay here tonight?” He asked, with a slight tremor in his timbre.

You held him tighter, breathed him in and responded in the lightest voice you could muster: “I’m offended you have to ask.”

Three Years Later.

The burning ache around your wrists dulled as she concluded her story.

Because that’s all it could really be, right? A story? Within this maddening dream?

The sadness that pulled at her face, weighted her shoulders, and glistened her eyes argued otherwise.

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

A deep breath as she continued to stare into the past.

“After my convoy reached the other camp…” she trailed off, interrupted by your clanging the handcuffs against the radiator.

“Answer me,” you growled, like a caged animal.

“I am,” she returned coldly. “Once the convoy reached the other camp, I headed back to Camp Chitaqua on my own. But there was no one left. Dean failed and the demons had celebrated.

“And now you’re here. Which makes me think the angels still haven’t persuaded Dean to say yes.”

“He won’t.”

She looked at you, firmly back in the present and seemed for a moment to marvel. All the fire within you, the aggressive certainty in a man you believed in and trusted, were flames that had extinguished within herself the day Dean died.

“No,” she said. “Of course, he won’t.”

She stood from her chair and set to releasing your wrists from the cuffs. Once you were free though, you found you could not move. You watched, transfixed as she contemplated her next words.

“Maybe…maybe it’ll be enough if you know that in the few hours we had together,” she paused at the sudden vulnerable expression on your face and smiled as if sharing a secret. “We loved a lifetime’s worth.”

A bright light shone through the cabin windows then, blinding you even as you raised your hands to cover your eyes.

“Knew they would come looking for you,” she said from above.

“What’s going on?”

“If you still think this is a dream, then we are more delusional than we think we are. The angels are looking for you. I kind of stole you, did I mention?”

You pushed yourself to your feet but were only successful in backing yourself into a corner.

Then you heard a shotgun being cocked and her calling out from a much farther distance, “Don’t stop fighting for him. Don’t you stop fighting for him ever.”

When finally the light disappeared, you slowly dropped your hands and peered into the darkness. You were back in the cheap motel room that you had passed out in the night before.

The red digits of the alarm clock glowed up at you from the nightstand.

Three thirty-three in the morning.

The year: 2009.

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heavensigh · 2 years

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I’m so happy I got this Monday off. I really needed it. Last Friday I was the only one in the office and I had 2 major tasks to fill in for the others who couldn’t be there because of Covid. We were suppose to get off at early but I ended up leaving 40 mins after closing because those tasks weren’t complete. One of my co workers, who was at home dealing with Covid, was so sorry and kept checking in to see if I made it out of the office on time. I was a bit sloppy but tried to label where I left off properly.

But yeah...my first week completed. It was a whirlwind of information and on my first two days I got caught up in learning that I took lunch late. It was also then when I found out I was a SALARY EMPLOYEE. This is my first salary position...ever. Finally made it here after 33 years. Whew. I saw my first paycheck stub and they actually counted the days since I accepted the job offer as my start date, even though I didn’t start until a week later. I’m not sure if that’s standard but I was grateful either way.

I have my own desk, all my own equipment and my own extension number with my name that lights up on the phone. I feel like I’m being challenged, mentally stimulated and encouraged. Dare I say I’m actually enjoying this? I’m having a little bit of fun at work?!

I also get to wear all my professional clothes I spent over $800 on over 5 years ago that have been sitting in my closet all this time. I’m still on the fence if I want to go to school for a marketing degree or just suck it up and go to law school but we’ll see. I mean...I can always do both. Not at the same time...but..who knows. I’m pretty good at both and they’ll work well together.

I wrote down my goals for the new month of June. I have a game release later this month so I want to get everything knocked out by then. I have to get my passport, become a notary, pass all my tests and assignments, lose 5 lbs and make over $500 on my side business. There are also 2 family birthdays this year. Both of them are right after Father’s day so it will be a tight month. I’m not going to be a big spender because my credit card bill this month is out of this world but I can at least set some money aside to visit them.

So let me tell you why my cc bill is so freakin high. This past weekend I went zip lining! At night! Under the stars! It was so much fun and probably the scariest thing I’ve done in years. It was a late Mother’s Day gift for my mom, and an early Father’s Day gift for my dad. They both have done it before on their various vacations but it was a first for me and Chu. The whole trip was expensive and not something I’d jump to do again if I have to foot the bill for that many people but man it was crazy. Seeing all the redwoods up close like that, taking the idyllic drive through wine country to reach the weird little art town that hosted the camp was very fun.

I couldn’t have my phone on me for obvious reasons but if I go back I’ll do it during the day so I can have the goPro option. I want to have more adventures like this. After my illness and being stuck in the house for those 2 years I’m ready to explore again. I haven’t had a major flare up in some time and I keep my meds on me just in case. I have a better eating schedule and have been leaning more toward fresh fruit, raw veggies and no process foods. I could be doing a lot better on those fronts but I have a good habits now.

The sucky thing is that I took a break from the gym for no apparent reason. I’ve been kinda beating myself up about it this whole time but a few days off turned into a week and then two...and now three. I told myself its pretty normal, despite going for 5 days a week since the beginning of this year it’s still not fun to me. Its still very much a chore and I’ve been trying to wiggle back to where I was. First it was when Chu got home because I stopped a week before his flight was due back. Then I took a week off to cuddle, bond and love on him. Then I got the job...and I said I’d need a week to just settle into my role and new daily schedule before I throw in my hour workout on top of that. So here we are. Here I am. Sitting on the couch on a Monday evening, telling myself that its a holiday so I should relax and that the REAL week starts tomorrow...after work, of course. I thought the morning would be more my speed because I’ve been waking up around 5:30-6am but Chu does PT in the morning and would rather go after dinner. So I said okay.

I can’t get a in person coach until after Dec, which is when this contract is up. I don’t think I’ll renew. I want a bigger gym and access to a pool. Problem is this gym is super close to my house. Less than 5 mins away actually. I don’t want to make it harder on myself but it’s just not spacious enough. Covid is still a thing and even though I wear my mask, even there, I would still like not to be snugged in there with the after 5pm crowd.

I have time, and taking a break is fine. I really gotta appreciate the journey.

Sp yeah. Welcome June. I can’t wait to smash through you so I can enjoy Fire Emblem: Three Hopes in peace.

#personal #dear diary #journal #pbthoughts #ziplining #june #june goals #2022 #gamer girl #career #I'm not editing this #adventure

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constancelaufeydottir · 3 years

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𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Neighbour!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Mentions of knife, blood, cursing, murder, mention of cannibalism, dark!Bucky(?), major character death, slight smut, fluff.

Summary: Bucky set his eyes on his sweet and cute neighbour who had suffered from a loss recently, determined to make her his.

Word count: 4.3k

a/n: This is my entry for @ambrosiase hotel indigo writing challenge. It’s my first ever writing challenge, and I had a lot of fun writing this! Honestly, I'm really grateful for this challenge because it motivates me to finish this wip that has been sitting in the draft for too long. Thank you for this lovely challenge mae ♡♡

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. If you see any mistakes, do let me know!

Room ⥤ Modern muse

Room service ⥤ neighbour + criminal

“Oh that poor thing.”

Bucky whipped his head in the direction of the voice. It was Mrs. Lockwood, his neighbour on the right.

“Huh?” He didn’t mean to voice out his confusion, but his brain was somewhat short-circuited, barely able to function when his sight was filled with you, and you only.

“That sweet girl over there,” Mrs. Lockwood was referring to you, his sweet neighbour to the left he was staring at, before the old lady came interrupting.

He had been staring for 5, 10 minutes maybe? He swore he wasn’t a pervert, you were just a sight for sore eyes, the healer of the wounds in his soul.

“What about y/n?” He asked, curious to listen to what his neighbour would say about the other neighbour. Also, he was fairly new to the neighbourhood, having just moved in last month, he ought to catch up with the gossip.

“Her boyfriend went missing a few months back, poor girl was devastated. Police suspected it was murder, even suspected y/n!” The old lady shook her head, casting pitying glances at the oblivious girl in the sundress, bathing under the sun with a book in her hand. “She’s such a sweet girl, how could they have suspected her?”

Bucky glanced at you, heart racing when you caught him looking. You shyly waved at him, a small smile plastered on your face hiding the underlying sadness of the loss of your loved one. His hand felt clammy when he raised one of them to wave back, his usual flirty self vanished whenever you were involved in the equation.

“Boy, you are in love aren’t ya,” Mrs. Lockwood teased, “I say go for it. Our lovely y/n definitely needs some lovin’ after what she’d been through and young man, I think you are the right person.” Her eyes crinkled as she patted Bucky encouragingly on the shoulder, like a loving mother cheering up her son.

Bucky, who was usually composed, blushed furiously. That big brain of his still hadn’t regained its functions thus he found himself unable to stop Mrs. Lockwood when she hollered at you.

Clearly immersed in your book, you jumped a little when you heard your name being called.

“Y/n, this young man would love to take you out on a date, what d’ya say?” His eyes widened at the accusation, though it was true that he wanted to date you, he just needed time to gather the guts to ask you out.

He saw you put down your book, walking towards him and Mrs. Lockwood. You were a front yard away from him, shielding the harsh sunlight from your eyes with your hands while leaning onto the fence.

“I’d love to,” you had to speak louder, and Bucky loved your voice as he only heard it only a handful of times now, often you were shy and quiet when you saw him.

“U-uhm, how about Saturday then,” He stuttered like a teenage boy who first received a love letter, suddenly forgetting how to speak, speech lost in the sea of disbelief and excitement, and affection.

You said nothing, only nodding and smiling at him, flashing those pearly whites.

“Great. 6pm. I’ll pick you up,”

“See you soon, James.” He watched as you walked away, a teasing smile on your face before you disappeared into the door. Gosh how he loved the way his name sounded on your lips, and he’d give anything to hear it again, and again.

Saturday came too soon, Bucky was not prepared at all. Well, he had done the reservations for the restaurant he’d planned to bring you to tonight, ironed out the creases and wiped off the non-existent dust on the dress shirt he would be wearing, so why was he nervous?

5:50 pm.

Call him old-fashioned or whatever, he’d prefer early to late and would love to escort you to his car. He stood in front of your porch, palm sweating and if his metal arm could secrete sweats, he was pretty sure it would end up like its counterpart.

You opened the door as soon as he rapped his knuckles on the wooden door, seeming eagerly waiting for him as he was for you.

He took in your outfit, the moderately revealing dress he liked, the one he saw you undress from, through his window countless times.

If it was possible to fall into a deeper love, he would.

The date couldn’t possibly be better than he imagined, it was perfect. Everything was great; the atmosphere of the restaurant, the quality of the food, and most importantly, you.

You were shy at first but opened up fairly quickly, telling him stories about you, and vice versa. You sympathized with him when he told you how he got the metal arm, your fingers grazing the delicate and intricate loops and lines on the metal surface.

His fingers were woven into yours halfway into the dinner, the cool metal fingers of his absently caressing your knuckles as you shared the story about your family, who disappeared mysteriously, then your ex-boyfriend, who went missing 5 months ago, like your family.

It was hard, talking about missing loved ones. Bucky could tell, by the way your hand unconsciously tightened, the lingering sadness in your eyes as you mentioned how happy you were before him. The way your tears were brimming in your eyes, threatening to glide down your face, it wrenched his heart, seeing how broken you were. He would try to pick up every broken piece of you in a heartbeat, mending them back together, fixing you until you were happy again if you would let him in.

He was kind of glad your ex-boyfriend was out of the picture, though it was a selfish thing to say. He desperately wanted to claim you, wanted to be your last and only boyfriend.

He’d been going on dates with you for a few months now. You were perfect, almost too perfect if he would say. You were practically his dream girl, so kind and generous. So sweet and loving. Pretty much everybody in this neighbourhood would agree with him and he sometimes wondered if he really deserved you. A beauty mingling with a beast. No one would ever want to see that, after all, even the beast turned into a handsome prince at the end of the fairytale.

Bucky wondered, if you found out what he did every night after you were asleep or what he took from your closet when you were away, would you still want him? If you found out the beast within him, would you still love him the same?

His thoughts were occupied and it wasn’t until the sharp pain in his fingers that he snapped out of his trance.

“Fuck!” You heard him cursing and went to him, gasping when you saw the streams of blood flowing from the deep cut from two of his fingers.

Hastily reaching out for the clean cloth from one of the drawers, you placed it over the wound, applying pressure on them.

The red quickly seeped through the pristine white cloth, two colours clashing as the red engulfed the white.

Bucky noticed you wincing at the red, gulping at the sight, head slightly turned away. It was obvious you were uncomfortable at the sight of blood, so he took the cloth himself and nudged you to wash the faint hint of blood on your palms.

“Sorry, now you might have to do this alone,” Bucky gestured at the ingredients on the counter, “and sorry for the cloth, blood stains are quite hard to get rid off.”

“Don’t you worry, a little hydrogen peroxide and the cloth will be as good as new,” Bucky let you tend to his wounds and pushed him towards the living room where he would sit at the couch for the next hour while you were busy at the kitchen preparing dinner.

While he was in the living room, he took in the interior of your house. He never got to take a close look, as he always had to sneak in when it was dark. The beige colour walls, cream coloured furnitures, books arranged perfectly on the floating shelves. The pictures and art hung on the clean walls, not one of them is crooked. The square coffee table with only the remote and a display plant on it, and when he shifted himself to sit at the center of the couch, did he realize the coffee table was lined up perfectly in the middle of the TV and the couch.

Bucky’s eyebrows raised, he didn’t depict you as a meticulous person. No wait, whenever he went out with you, you’d arrange the plates to sit between the utensils perfectly. When you get boba, the straws must precisely be in the center of the cup, and if you missed it, your eyebrows would furrow in annoyance subconsciously.

His eyes wandered over to your figure in the kitchen and was not surprised to find you wiping and hanging the cutting board on the ceramic wall, adjusting it with your fingers so it wouldn’t be crooked while waiting for the stew to simmer.

You caught him looking at you and threw a smile at him in which he reciprocated, then continued to let his eyes wander through your living room. This could easily be an IKEA showroom, he thought.

Another week went by, Bucky found himself more and more in love with you, if that was possible in the first place as if he didn’t already dedicate all the space in his heart for you.

You were both in the kitchen again. This time however, he was busy mixing the sugar, flour, and cocoa powder mixture, with you snuggling behind him, arms circling his waist as you watched him do the magic.

He felt sorry for not helping last time so he was making up to you by baking some brownies.

As you both were cleaning up, brownies baking in the oven, Bucky turned to you.

“Hey, I never asked, but what do you do for a living?” He questioned nonchalantly while wiping the huge plastic bowl.

The wet spatula fell from your grip, dropping into the sink of water, droplets of soapy liquid flecked on your shirt.

“O-oh, i’m an artist!” You let out a laugh to conceal your flustered state, “Aspiring artist to be exact.”

“An artist,” he hummed, as if chewing onto the meaning of the word, “could you show me your works?”

Your head whipped towards his direction, mouth parted in surprise. Nobody has ever appreciated your dream. Your family, your friends, your ex-boyfriends, all of them claimed that being an artist would lead you to being unsuccessful, and you deemed to prove them wrong.

“Yes, yes, of course,” you were overjoyed. Abandoning the half-washed utensils, you clasped your hand around his wrist and dragged him to follow you towards the second floor, into a room hidden behind another beige coloured door, where you kept all your works.

Rows of headless mannequins clothed in white dresses painted with red blossoms appeared before him as you pushed open the door.

He was utterly mesmerized. He trailed his gaze across the display, a smile painted his lips as he deduced that every piece of them was unique. No two dresses had the same pattern.

Some had plain red blossoms splattered on it, some had dark red waves littering on the bottom hem; some with brush strokes of red. There was also a different tone of red, bright and dark or somewhat in between.

“Wow, this is just … amazing!” He found himself at a loss for words, “are those blood?”

“Yes, they are.”

“I thought you don’t like blood?” Bucky teased.

“These are animal blood. I’m fine with it as long as it’s not coming out from a human,” you retorted.

He chuckled. Once again admiring the intricate patterns of your works, marvelling at how talented and perfect you were. His heart sank at the thought of the question he frequently found himself asking, how can someone so perfect like you end up with someone less than perfect like him.

You apparently noticed his changed demeanor as you inched yourself closer to pull him into an embrace, placing your chin on his chest, eyes searching for his sad blue ones.

“Are you okay?” He hugged you tighter, sighing.

“I’m fine. I just … I think you’re perfect and you’re everything I've ever wanted. But I'm not sure if I'm perfect enough for you.”

“Oh James, you’re more than enough. I assure you, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted too.”

Bucky felt like his heart was filled to the brim with adoration, butterflies erupted from his stomach. Your assurance was everything to him, keeping his wandering soul anchored and he was grateful for it, grateful for your existence. The more the reason to cage you by his side so you couldn’t ever leave him.

His lips were on yours the next second, his grip on your waist tightened as you deepened the kiss, tongue finding his; busy hands sliding from his stomach to his shoulder.

Both of you were drowning in this ecstasy, unwilling to part away from each other’s touch.

The loud ding of the oven startled the both of you. Momentarily parting from each other, you stared at him with a heated glance. His eyes were hooded, filled with lust, desire.

“Fuck the brownies,” you whispered, molding your soft lips on him once again, the hunger for each other far greater than the stupid brownies, “need you now.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice, large hands cupping your bottom as you hopped and hooked your legs behind him, arms instinctively went to his shoulders for support.

He brought the both of you to your room, the one he was all too familiar with, the one with the same cream coloured theme which could definitely pass as another IKEA showroom judging by how perfect the layout was.

The only odd thing that stood out in this far too perfect room was the trail of scratch marks extending from the door frame to the wall outside of the room.

The deep scratch marks were somehow etched deep in his brain, he couldn’t let it go. It felt as if there was a dot of blank ink on a piece of white paper, and even though there was more white than black, you’d only be fixated on the dot of black.

He would ask you about the haunting marks on the wall and your fingers that were tracing patterns on his skin would falter, you’d give him the warm smile he loved while brushing it off saying it was the huge Dobermann your aunt owned which did that.

Even when he was balls deep in you, the vivid image of the scratch marks were there in his head, though you were quick to draw back his attention with a grind on his hips, both of your bodies covered with sheen of perspiration. Strands of your hair sticking to your body, but you pay no care to them as you rocked your hips, chanting his name over and over again like a mantra, like a prayer.

His eyes were on your fucked out state, his grip on you like steel. The cool surface of his metal arm contrasted with your hot flushed body as you chase your high like a traveller chasing the oasis in a desert, desperate for a quench of thirst.

Even when he was chasing the same high, vision blinding with bliss, the marks were still there and this time they were accompanied by the white dresses painted with red, and red only.

Bucky was always a doubtful person. Doubting every single decision he’d ever made. Doubting himself, doubting others. But there was one thing he was certain of, there was something less than innocent lurking underneath your skin. Of course, he was still head over heels for you but he was pretty adamant to find out the sinister in you, hoping it would answer his questions, mainly the recurring image of a certain mark.

Bucky was a lot of things, dumbass , dork, clumsy(per sam), but he was not stupid. Hell, he was far from stupid. Those scratch marks, definitely not the Dobermann.

You were a perfectionist, you couldn’t possibly leave the mark there and acted like nothing happened in the first place. He’d imagine if it was the dog, you’d probably have someone fix the dent the same day, unwilling to allow even a speck of blemish in your flawless house.

Bucky was a lot of things, and being a dumbass was definitely one of them as he was showing up on your porch in the evening unannounced.

He’d considered sneaking in like he used to do but he knew, he saw that you were still in the house. He couldn’t and wouldn’t jeopardize your relationship with him knowing he’d get caught.

He knocked on your door, hearing footsteps paddling, rushing to him.

As you opened the door, your eyes widened at the sight of an awkward Bucky. Although you were quick to throw him an unalarming smile, he still caught the nervousness in you.

There was something off with you. The disheveled hair, thin layer of sweat adorning the crown of your head, unknown wet liquid staining your shirt.

He caught a whiff of the strong smell of chemicals wafting through the door, it smelled a lot like bleach.

“I’m sorry,” he scratched at the back of his neck, “is this not a good time?”

“It’s fine, come on in.”

The smell of bleach invaded his nose the moment he stepped into your house, flooding and overwhelming his senses causing him to wince.

“Were you deep cleaning?”

“Yeah, I accidentally spilled some of the animal blood this morning. Had to use hell lots of hydrogen peroxide to get rid of them. Sorry for the smell.”

“No no, it’s okay. Let me just open the windows and door, okay?” He was getting a little light-headed now, desperately needing some fresh air. “Doll, you need to ventilate every time you use bleach, it’s harmful for your health to inhale all these fumes.”

You blushed at the term of endearment, yet wanting to blame him for not calling you that earlier.

He went over to open the windows, sighing contentedly at the waves of fresh air hitting his face as the wind blew in.

He felt your arms snaking around him, head leaning against his broad back.

“I love you, James. Wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“I love you too.” He turned around and hugged you, his chin propped on your head, not knowing you had a solemn expression on your face.

He’d spent the evening with you, watching TV on the couch with you in his lap. It was so mundane yet he’d never got bored of this, wanting to do this with you for the rest of his life.

Outside the window, the orange and yellow sky faded into darkness.

“Let’s order take out, how about Thai food?”

“I’ll cook,” you kissed him on the lips and got up from his lap before he could reply anything.

“Ok, you need help?” He heard a faint ‘no, it’s fine’ coming out of the kitchen followed by the clanking of pots and utensils.

His neck stretched to peek at your figure in the kitchen, too busy chopping up ingredients to notice he was no longer at the living room.

He made his way down the basement, where the pungent smell of the bleach was still lingering.

The wood creaked as he stepped on the stairs, announcing his arrival to the darkness surrounding the basement. The soft glow of light illuminated the large space, a wall of tins stacking on each other revealed to him. A few easels of different sizes were propped on the wall with several grey aprons hanging beside them.

He walked closer to examine the insane amount of tins. A small label that said Pig blood was stickered on the body of the white tin.

His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. Do people really sell animal blood in metal tins, wouldn’t they go bad?

There were loads of questions in Bucky’s head, questions with answers only you could provide.

He noticed a chest freezer sitting in the corner of the basement and his legs brought him to it before he came to realize. The whole basement was so quiet he could hear the soft ringing in his ears, the racing of his heartbeat amplified as his hand inched towards the lid.

There was nothing in the freezer, to his surprise.

The empty freezer stared back at him, as if mocking his fruitless attempt. He was relieved, or disappointed, he couldn’t tell the difference and there was no point in distinguishing them now since you had nothing to hide. He wasn’t even sure what he was expecting to find in the freezer.

“Babe?” You stood behind him with an apron on, a knife in your hand, a second after he closed the door to the basement.

He leaned against the door frame, hand went to his head, eyes squeezed shut as he pretended he was having a headache.

“Felt dizzy all of a sudden, I was just making my way to the bathroom.”

“Oh, okay. I was just about to tell you dinner's almost ready,” a tooth-rotting smile was plastered on your face.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he watched as you walked away, letting out the breath he’d been holding. His palm was clammy, heart beating rapidly.

“I love you,” You placed your hand on his arm, eyes meeting his.

“I know, doll. I love you too.”

This was seconds before dinner.

“James, I love you.” You whispered, watching him giving you a grin before he stuffed the meatball into his mouth.

“Wow, I'm so loved today. It’s the secon- no, third time you’ve said ‘I love you’ to me today.” He grinned, heart bursting with love. “You know I love you too.”

This was mid-dinner.

“I love you so much, James.”

Bucky was getting suspicious of you. Were you hiding something, perhaps cheating on him? For there were no reasons for you to keep telling him you loved him even though he knew how much you loved him and vice versa.

“I love you,” you kissed his knuckles, “this might be the last time I get to say I love you, James.”

His eyebrows furrowed at your statement, mouth parting to question what you meant. Before he could voice out something, the world faded into nothingness.

A thin film of blurriness clouded his eyes when he opened them, Bucky had this feeling like he was drowning in a swamp and his whole body was bound.

Blinking furiously, he regained his vision. You were sitting on a chair leaning forwards while looking at him endearingly, your elbows propped on your knees, palms supporting your chin.

“Hello, my love,” you were smiling oh so sweetly. The same smile that got him mesmerized and head over heels, except this time he didn’t feel the warm fuzzy feeling exploding in his chest, this time it was the goosebumps crawling on his arms and the chill creeping up his spine.

Now everything made sense, every single of his questions was answered.

You looked down at his body, the one that was once full of life, full of love. You watched as his glassy blue eyes etched with fear quickly reduced into this grey lifeless orbs, still pretty but lacking the element of a beautiful soul.

You weep for him, mourn for him. Mourning the short duration of love shared between the both of you. Mourning for yourself, for falling too hard. Mourning for him who kept you always in his heart.

To be honest, you were a little hesitant to end his life, he was better than the last one. He was perfect, warm, kind, loving, gentle, but not perfect enough. He simply did not reach your expectations, and you, could not bear imperfections, even the slightest. The answer to his downfall was pretty easy, he was too close to the ugly truth. And despite you knowing his love for you outweighs his doubt and fear in you, you simply couldn’t risk it.

Your love for perfection exceeds your love for him.

The melodious music of your ringtone echoed in the ample space of the basement, you brought up your phone to your ears as you answered the call.

“Mrs. Lockwood? Yes. Of course. I did. No no no, I’ll do it for you this time. He would definitely taste delicious I assure you.”

Time to get to work, you sighed as you stood there with a white dress splattered with blood. How artistic, you thought.

You always loved this part of the process, you’d wear the whitest piece of dress you own whenever you work with your projects.

You loved how the blood peppered your clothes, forming blossoms of dark red flowers on the fabric.

You kept every single piece of them, because no two are the same. Every one of them tells a story, of men and women who loved you and who you loved, of those who were once a body with a soul.

Wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks, you gave Bucky one last loving look and the blade of your butcher knife came in contact with his once pink but now pale skin as you hummed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the basement, forming echoes.

A few blocks away, a baby cried, body covered in mucus. The tiny infant cried, each time louder than the previous, wailing his lungs out, as if mourning. For one soul born, another reaped.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #neighbour bucky #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #the hotel indigo writing challenge #maeras writing challenge

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lokilickedme · 3 years

Text

Somebody help me chill, this is insane.

(under the cut because long and also pretty traumatic, for me at least)

Crazy neighbor, remember her? Her son destroyed a piece of equipment we had attached to one of our trees at the fenceline last week, she denied it and called us insane liars - that’s the most recent craziness in the ongoing saga of the neighbor from hell. I was sitting here reading my dash tonight and happened to glance over at the monitor for the surveillance camera husband got me the other day to watch that exact spot (where the equipment was smashed) and guess who I see bent over looking through the fence peering very closely at that exact spot? Neighbor’s equally insane son, who we know did the actual dirty work. And I, stupid like I am, took a screenshot of him and then immediately jumped up and ran outside in the dark in my pajamas (nearly 9pm, pitch black, their porch light is off because obviously they’re doing something they don’t want to be seen doing) and I ask “Excuse me, what are you doing?”

This lunatic immediately starts SCREAMING at me - I mean top of his lungs SCREAMING abusive threats, calling me a stupid psycho whore bitch, yelling at me to get my ass back in my house and generally just acting completely off his rocker unhinged nuts - and then his mother comes out and comes over to the fence and gets in my face while I’m just standing there and tells me to mind my own business. I say I am minding my business, I saw him looking through the fence at my property right where we had vandalism happen last week so I came out to find out why he’s interested in my property. She laughed in my face and said “No he wasn’t, he was standing right here looking at his phone like this” and she does this little pantomine of someone looking at their phone, which is funny because she wasn’t out there when he was doing it and there are no windows on that side of her house at all. I ignored her and asked “What are you looking for?” He kept screaming incoherent animal noises and insults from behind her so I asked again, “What are you looking for?” And that crazy woman grinned at me and said “We’re just looking to see what kind of new devices you’ve installed!”

OMG. She didn’t even take a breath in between lying and then contradicting her own lie. And she’s grinning smugly at me the entire time, gesturing around pointing at our property cams and mosquito light (it flashes and apparently she thinks it’s watching her) and my bedroom window - which means she’s been snooping. There is a cam sitting in my windowsill, aimed at the spot where the device was smashed. Every bit of this equipment is on our property, some of it behind a privacy fence. I tell her it’s none of her business what kind of devices we’ve got on our property, but she just yammers over me, and of course numbskull is still ranting like a psycho behind her, screaming at me to mind my own business and get back in my house and leave them alone. At this point he’s pulled out his phone and shoved it over her shoulder toward my face and is recording me, which is just...fucking hilarious...because I’m literally doing nothing but standing there in shock and awe at how nuts these people are, and he’s still screaming abusive curses and names at me while he’s recording.

Anyway, for about 4.5 minutes we stood there with them shouting over me (I know the exact time because it was later discovered that our doorbell cam recorded audio of the entire event) and a little ways into it he screams “I WILL TEAR YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF!!”

At this point psycho woman finally turns around and says “Addison Case!” and pushes him back. He lunges at me and she tells him to go call the police (??what?? I mean...I wish he had...my phone was in my hand frozen solid, locked up because of the glitchy surveillance app I had to install to see the camera, or else I would have called them myself - but my god they really thought I was the one the cops needed to come for??). Meanwhile I’m just standing there on my own property in the dark in my pajamas, all 5 feet and 120 lbs of me, while this rabid animal - he’s a 21 year old college boy - is lunging at me and screaming nonstop, calling me a fucking whore bitch loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear it while his phone’s camera light is in my face blinding me. Crazy lady smiles that smug shit eating grin of hers and tells me to get back in my house, leave her alone, and move the hell away so she can live in peace.

Wow. Just...holy shit.

This is the person who has allowed her dog to attack my very small 8 year old son on our property and send him to the hospital with injuries last year, then attempt to attack him again 2 weeks ago (he is now 9 at the time of the second attack) - again on our own property (in our back yard this time, in our front yard the first time), has allowed her dogs (multiple) to bark all night long and keep us awake (she leaves them outside and then goes away for the weekend and they bark the entire time she’s gone), then she had her crazy violent son destroy the BarkBox we put in our tree on our side of the fence last week (we put it up as a humane way to get the barking to stop without having to listen to her call us insane liars every time we complain about it). Yet...she kept repeating over and over and over for us to leave her alone and stop harassing her.

All I could even do was stand there shaking my head. It was surreal. And frustrating, because they wouldn’t even let me get a word out without screaming over me, and she was doing that infuriating Karen thing where they shove their hand at your face and grin smugly while they’re telling you what you better do or they’ll call someone to make you.

I actually started laughing, it was so ludicrous. She’s committed all those vile offenses against us and we’re the ones that need to leave her alone. We’ve had to file four police reports against her and we’re the ones that are making her life miserable. I just can’t stop thinking about that Liar Liar movie where the repeat offender keeps calling his lawyer to complain that the cops won’t stop arresting him and the lawyer finally yells THEN STOP BREAKING THE LAW ASSHOLE!!

It’s just like that. My god.

SO -

She tells him to call the police again, and this limp dick shoves that phone light right up to my face and says “You think she’s worth calling the cops over? Look at her, she don’t look worth it to me.” And bitch starts laughing. My god, these people are subhuman, I swear. I’ve never seen anyone act like this in my life, over a person doing literally nothing to them.

So she finally orders her rabid son (who is just about foaming at the mouth, I swear he’s making these barking animal noises at me, it’s weird as hell) into the house and they walk away, with him still ranting like a madman until the door closes behind them. I immediately go inside my own house and call my husband, who was way out at the back of our property in our camper (he self quarantines each day after work out there to protect us because there have been a lot of covid cases at his workplace) and he didn’t know anything was happening. He immediately runs up to the house and I tell him I caught neighbor’s thug son messing around at our fence and that when I went out he threatened to kill me.

Tom grabs something - I don’t even know what it was, I think it was this piece of board that was sitting by the door, we’ve done a shelving project recently and a couple of leftover pieces have been there for a few days - and he stalks outside toward neighbor’s house. I hear him yell COME OUT HERE BOY!!! and I stg you guys, if I wasn’t on the phone calling 911 I might have thought about getting naked right there and then because damn.

So anyway, let’s not go there. This is serious by god lol (look for this to show up in a fic soon though because material like this doesn’t get handed to you for free every day).

I call 911 and say the neighbor’s son just threatened my life and for them to come quick because he’s still over there but I know he’s going to leave any second (this is his mom’s M.O, the two times the police have tried to go talk to her she gets in her car and leaves before they can get from my house to hers, and I know he’ll do the same because COWARDS). Tom comes back and says the little pussywillow wouldn’t come out of the house. He’s breathing fire, you guys. Pure fucking fire. I tell 911 to get somebody out quick before the kid leaves, and just about 2 minutes after I hang up he does just that - we see him blast past our house in his truck and he’s gone, and then the police arrive about 3 minutes after. I’m so mad I can’t see straight. If they’d been able to see him in the state he was in, they’d have arrested him on sight.

Two squad cars (big SUV’s) pull up and block her driveway with full lights flashing, which makes me laugh because suddenly we’ve got neighbors coming outside to see what’s going on. I meet the officers outside, and the crazy bitch next door does the same, yelling “Hello Officer!” and waving to them as they’re coming up to my porch.

They talk to me and Tom for a long time, I tell them everything that happened, they interview Big (he and Little were inside the open door and heard it all), we fill out our statements and talk with them more until one officer goes next door to talk to neighbor. We can hear her dripping her fake sugar and spice while they’re talking on her porch and my husband loses his shit - he heads toward her house and yells “We got the entire thing on recording, don’t even try to lie! Your kid, threatening to kill my wife?!?” (he’s referring to the camera in my bedroom window, which actually only recorded about 2 minutes because I don’t have it set up correctly yet, but they don’t know that). The officer yells at him to get back, which, yeah - he shouldn’t have done that, but for god’s sake the woman’s peckerhead son just literally threatened murder on a member of his family, this is the final fucking straw and he’s mad. And as he’s coming back across the yard the officer that stayed with me points at our new doorbell camera, just freshly installed as of about two weeks ago, and asks if it’s on. We haven’t even really figured out how to use it yet, but yes, as far as we know it’s on. The incident happened around the side of the house, but the doorbell records audio.

God bless technology.

I invite the officer inside the house and Tom gets his phone, pulls up the app for the doorbell, and starts skipping through the recording looking for the right timestamp. Up till this point all they have is me saying the guy screamed a lot of abusive profanities at me and threatened to tear my head off, and they’re taking me serious but probably not that serious, you know? Neighbors fight all the time, wars start over barking dogs, things get exaggerated, we’ve all seen the TV dramas.

Until Tom finds the segment on the footage and starts playing it to them on his phone. It’s kind of quiet because we were a good distance away, but you can hear the guy screaming just like I said he was. The officer asks if we have a speaker we can play it through so he can hear the words more clearly, because he needs proof of threat and that’s entirely in the words.

You guys, I’m tellin’ ya, sometimes you get a chance to fucking SHINE. My husband is a musician and this cop is asking him if he’s got a good speaker. So within minutes Tom’s got this huge venue-style amplifier designed for broadcasting music to the back wall of a freaking stadium pulled out into the livingroom and he’s hooking his phone up to it, and then he hits play and the other officer comes back from next door to join us and I can tell by the annoyed look on his face that neighbor bitch has likely charmed him and shed a plethora of persecuted tears and spewed her lies about how we’ve been harassing her forEVER and I think for a second that it’s a total loss now, he’s made his mind up in her favor.

And then...away we go. Tom cranks the volume on the speaker and they both lean in to listen closely.

Just about a minute into the recording they have their proof - thugnuts screaming I WILL TEAR YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF!!!

Both officers nod, close their notebooks, and the second officer makes a phonecall while the first one turns to me and says “That’s terroristic threatening and it’s a class C felony. You’re going to need to go to the PA’s office with all the reports you’ve filed against them so far and all your evidence from tonight including that recording and hand it all to them. They’re likely going to issue a no-contact so that he can’t interact with you ever again.”

This is a victory, but it’s just the first step, and I feel sickeningly disheartened that it’s all in my lap to do everything. I want them to go demand his whereabouts from his mother and just go get his ass and haul him in. But no, I have a ton of legwork to do now because these horrible people won’t fucking stop.

After several more minutes of me asking questions about what exactly we need to do and where we need to go, etc etc (I’m competent but I’m also fucking rattled, someone threatened to kill me tonight and I’m blanking hard on the instructions he’s giving me) they finally wrap it up and leave. They’ve been in my house for a half hour waiting for me to finish filling out the report (I had to ask for more paper because honey I’m getting ALL the details in there) and I can just imagine how freaked out neighbor is when she sees what time they finally move their cars from in front of her driveway.

And now I’m coming down from the weird calm that I had through the entire event, and my heart feels like it’s going to EXPLODE. I had heart surgery two months ago, do I need this?? The pathetic part is that I know now just how stupid those people are, and I know this won’t be the end from their side by any means. We’ll start finding more stuff broken, or he’ll start climbing over the fence back at the back of the property to steal stuff from husband’s tool shed, or my tires will get slashed. These people are that dumb and hateful, they proved it tonight. He said if we had animals he would kill them, and then he made the same threat against me. How stupid does a person have to be to stand there with his phone out recording himself ranting and making threats against a woman standing in her own yard in her pajamas? Big tough man there. And his mama grinning at me the whole time, telling me I’m crazy and she’s concerned for her own safety because of me, while her son is standing right behind her threatening my life.

I’m just...my god, I don’t even know what to think. I thought people only acted like this in TV dramas, seriously. I’ve seen some shit in my life but this particular brand of stupid has up till now evaded me, but now it’s been in my face and I’m sort of in shock.

I don’t like guns. At ALL. Tom has always had at least one hidden carefully away, safely locked up away from the house, but now there are two inside my house in immediate grabbing range. He insisted that I let him show me how to use them. Rules were laid down for the boys - never touch, never, don’t even get close to them - and now there is a box of shotgun shells on my fireplace mantel and a singleshot rifle by the door. I hate this so damn much.

Don’t pick it up unless you’re ready to use it, he told me. Without even thinking, I said back, “If I touch it it’s getting used.”

I HATE THIS SO FUCKING MUCH

My god. I told the cops that the drug lord that lived over there four years ago was a better neighbor than this woman. They didn’t even laugh.

I guess they’re right, now that I think about it...it isn’t funny.

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unpopularwiththepopulace · 3 years

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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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spenciegoob · 3 years

Text

Petrichor (Blurb)

A/N: hi hi hi! I wrote this instead of PWYC pt. 5 and i’m sorry, but enjoy!

Summary: Reader loved the rain, but Spencer loved them a little bit more.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Category: fluff

Content Warnings: none! it’s just good feeling, happy fluff

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.2K

____

One day they described the rain to me, how it felt to watch it dance on top of cars from their old apartment. How at ease their mind would feel when their French windows were wide open on a stormy night, watching the lightning ridicule the world for taking advantage of it’s tears.

“You’re drenched, and you’re going to get sick. How can you sit in the pouring rain?” I asked when I found them perched delicately on the windowsill, half their body already dripping.

“The rain is beautiful. Look!” Their excitement was endearing enough that there was no argument for me to stick my head out the window to look at the gray world around us.

“What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just like to appreciate the underlying beauty of a storm before basking in the sunlight.”

I remember hoping they would speak about me with that same curiosity one day.

I don’t believe a purer love existed. I was completely infatuated with them, and for reasons beyond my control, they felt equally about me. It was obvious from the first time our eyes met. I watched, I couldn’t help it. They were mesmerizing, their eyes looking up at me with such innocence through bright, unadulteratedly joyous eyes.

They saw beauty within me in things I thought impossible. When I or anyone else would hide in dismay at the summer storm raging in my chest, they gazed through those French windows, fascinated at how the light could paint my eyes so dramatically.

And even after all this time, the years bringing less and less surprises as they went, the love we felt for one another was still beautifully unexplainable. Perhaps it is shown through the way my hand always searched out for theirs in grocery stores because losing them even for a second frightened me to the core. Maybe it was the way they stared at me through those unfathomable eyes as if I was the only man that would truly ever know them.

Either way, we fit one another to the bone, a love so pure and fragile I would spend an eternity looking for them if they hadn’t stepped into my life. For all the darkness and cruelty I see, one look at them and the world melted down to an innocent and kind place.

So I knew tomorrow when I stood at the altar, waiting for them to enter both the room and a new step in our lives together, I held no doubt. I was going to spend the rest of my time on Earth in their arms.

I sat at the kitchen table, holding a pen with enough force to be suffocating, and stared at the blank page in front of me. For all the times that I’ve let scientific facts and statistics flow off my tongue without a care, I could not find the words that held enough weight to convey my love for them.

“Hey Spence?” They called for me from the doorway of our bedroom. I looked up to find them in a t-shirt of mine with a cheesy chemistry joke printed on it. Since the day I explained the punchline to them, they wear it every chance they get. Little, fuzzy sock clad feet slid across the floor over to me where I was stuck admiring.

“You coming to bed soon? Your side is getting cold,” they whispered the last part with the lips grazing the top of my head, resting their hands on my shoulders. Immediately the tension left my body, and I turn, the words flooded my brain.

“Uh, y-yeah. In a second. I just need to finish something.” I felt their smile before I looked up to see it, and God was it breathtaking.

“Okay, my love.” Even though my hand itched to start scribbling my undying love, I watched their descend back to our bed, turning around once more to smile at me over their shoulder. Once they were completely out of my sight, I snapped back to my unfinished vows.

‘The day I met you, I was fully consumed by my undeniable fascination and the need to know who you were, You’re unlike anyone I have ever known. You’re this curious, ever-seeking, ever-feeling person who believed the world was good. You loved me before you ever judged me, a kindness not many people possess. Your ultimate adoration for just being alive immersed itself around me and for every moment I’ve been with you, the world has slowly started to become brighter. You give me purpose, like lighting a lost flame I thought to dismiss years ago.

And in 40 years, I have no doubt I’ll be sitting on our porch, surrounded by a white picket fence and a domesticity I can only find with you. I’ll just watch our memories relive and unfold, but the best of all is that you’ll be there next to me, and I can’t imagine not looking at you with the same amount of love as I feel right now. I am unconditionally infatuated with you now, and forever.

Because it’s always been you, and it will always be you. God, I love you.’

During the night after we devoted ourselves to each other, I watched as they lied next to me, my breath grew unsteady as theirs evened out. I was captivated by their hair spreading softly across pillows that would never compare to how soothing it was to lay across their chest. The way their eyes stared up at me with familiar amazement that made my stomach swell with butterflies and my pulse jump.

They were absolutely breathtaking.

In most literature, rain was mainly used to portray a certain kind of sadness that made the world feel like it was coming to an end, but not now. Right here, laying in between silk sheets that sculpted their body as if they were their own french painting, rain meant devotion, adoration, love.

A kind of endearment I would never find within wet clothes and runny noses unless my lover was next to me basking in the storm.

I know it was impossible, we were indoors for Christ’s sake, but the drop of rain that hit my arm felt real. It wasn’t until my lover’s face dampened with their own pouring raindrops that I realized mine came from my own eyes.

I was quite literally hypnotized, not moving to wipe the tears running down cheeks that were pushed up from the wide, involuntary grin spread across my face. I could only fixate on them, the way they smiled back and the blush that rose to their cheeks. I couldn’t take my eyes away.

It was okay though, because they never looked away either, and reached up to wipe the teardrops I let fall carefree. I nuzzled into the palm of their hand like I couldn’t get enough, but the truth was their touch ignited a comfort that deeply resonated in me, and I would selfishly search out for it every chance I got.

I would pray for the sky to turn gray and rain to fall in sheets for the rest of my life.

____

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det-loki · 3 years

Text

poison & wine pt. eight

You give me love, give me love Until it breaks my back

warnings: angst, blood mention

pairing: detective loki x fem reader

word count: 2,162

A/N: close to the end! sorry for the delay

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 ⌽

The car ride over to Bob Taylor’s house was uncomfortably silent. David’s hands gripped the steering wheel till his knuckles were white, jaw clenched as he stared ahead.

“When are we going to talk about everything? We can’t keep running on autopilot.” You broke the silence as Loki’s jaw ticked, his hands tightening around the wheel.

“Let’s just focus on this case, okay?” You hated when he did this. He silenced himself, avoiding everything until it simmered over, emotions exploding out of control. You remained silent, deciding it was better to not add more fuel to the fire.

You arrived at the house which was covered with various cars and forensic teams. You got out of the car quickly, tugging your coat tighter as the wind chilled through you, following David as he talked to Rich, who was a part of the forensics team and running point on the scene.

The brown dying grass crunched under your boot clad feet as you walked up to a marked off area in the yard, two analysts working to uncover two kid sized department store mannequins that had been buried with their heads caved in from the frozen ground.

Rich looked at Loki as he spoke, “I just talked to our lab guys, and they told me that all the blood that we sampled from the plastic containers- pig’s blood.”

You moved from the yard to inside in the kitchen, mazes still littered across the walls. Multiple people were inside the home, taking pictures of evidence and booking it. Listening to Rich continue to speak, “It’s like he’s play-acting. I mean, case in point. Except for the few items I.D.’d by the Dovers and the Birches, all the kids’ clothes that we found still had the tags on them. And that maze book that we found, he made it. Photocopies, pictures from this book that we found in the attic. Ex-F.B.I. agent wrote that.” You wondered who would go through the trouble of doing all that, but you had to remind yourself of the case you were dealing with. Nothing was ‘textbook.’

You looked down at the red and black book in the evidence bag as Loki read the title out loud, fingers grazing over the cover through the plastic of the bag, eyebrows furrowed, ‘Finding The Invisible Man.’

“Yeah, it’s about a theoretical suspect that he believed was responsible for a bunch of child abductions. It’s totally discredited, I guess, but I read some of it.” Rich explained to both you and Loki as you rocked on the balls of your feet.

Loki cut Rich off, “Taylor- Taylor was abducted when he was a kid. He ran away after three weeks. And the capture drugged him on some sort of LSD/ketamine cocktail.” When you and Loki learned of the use of the ketamine cocktail, your eyes darted to each other, a silent understanding between the two of you. Broken, forever; everything connected in this shit town you called home. Loki continued speaking, “He never remembered. They never caught the guy.”

“Okay, so...he read the book and decided he was taken by the invisible man. Now he’s doing his best imitation, right?”

Rich stared at Loki, waiting for a response, “Yeah, he was doing his best imitation. He killed himself last night.” Loki turned away, walking away from you and Rich, stopping in the doorway to study the mazes on the wall as Rich turned to him, “How did he do that? I thought he was in custody.”

“It’s a long story.” Your response was short, voice cracking with exhaustion, details weren’t needed. Your hands were still stained with red, you constantly felt the need to scrub them raw under hot water until they bled. The urge hit you again last night at home in the shower, sending you into a crying mess on the shower floor, scaring David when he heard your sobs through the door. He was worried about you. And himself, you two were getting bad again, the feeling was familiar, similar to how you felt after the funeral. Indescribable pain.

Loki turned to you, asking for the map Taylor drew as he stepped closer in your direction. You take it out of your coat pocket with a gloved hand, handing it to David who snatches it out of your hand. He pointed to it aggressively as he spoke to Rich, “Hey, Taylor drew this. It’s a map to the bodies. It’s a map to the bodies and we found the same design on a pendant that we pulled off that corpse the other day. There’s a connection, okay?” Loki spoke with growing intensity as Rich looked at him dumbfounded, obviously lost with Loki’s explanation.

“The connection is that it’s the last maze in the book.” Loki scoffed at Rich, upset with him for not understanding the point he was trying to make. Rich continued, “I did it. It’s unsolvable. There’s no way out. Your corpse is another wannabe who read the book.” Loki had spent hours trying to find a way out of the maze, each failure feeling more and more doomed.

Loki stormed away from him, “What are you saying to me, Rich? What are you saying to me? What are you saying? That-that this guy is a fake? You’re saying the girls are still out there somewhere?” Here was the one big difference between you and Loki. You had hope the girls were still alive, maybe you were ignorant, but you weren’t ready to accept the fact that two little girls were dead. Loki was coming to terms with the fact that they might be dead, his hope was dying out. Loki’s voice rose, your fingers digging into your palm as he spoke, “How did Bob Taylor get those clothes? How did-how did the parents positively I.D those clothes?!” At this point, Loki was yelling at Rich, looking at him expectantly.

“That I can’t reconcile.” He walked past you and then Loki as Loki snaps at him, “You can’t reconcile that?”

“Just keep knockin’ on doors, lookin’ in windows.” At that, Rich disappeared through the doorway.

Loki stood across from you, hand trailing through his hair, head snapping in your direction as you spoke, “Loki, maybe he’s right. The girls might be out there somewhere, we-” You stopped talking as Loki pulled out his notepad, flipping through pages quickly, obviously looking for something in particular. He flips to a page and stops, “The window.” That’s all you needed to hear before running to the car.

The car stopped abruptly in front of the Dovers, sending you lurching forward against the dashboard, Loki’s door already open, feet on the ground and running. You followed him quickly, approaching the back of the house, staring up at the second story window that Grace Dover had said that had been opened the other night. Loki looked around before jumping the chain-link fence, crouching down under the window, looking for footprints or anything disturbed. He takes a pen out of his front coat pocket, balancing it in his fingers as he reaches into the bushes, pulling out a pink sock teetering on the pen. The same sock Keller positively I.D.’d as Anna’s.

You were out of breath as you ran to the car for an evidence bag, your body too tired for the physical exertion. As you reach inside the glove compartment, your phone buzzes in your pocket. Answering it, your stomach dropped as Detective Chemelinski’s voice spoke in your ear. Joy Birch had been found.

The hospital was cold as you entered, a chill running through your body, but not from the chill of the air. You hated hospitals. The elevator dings as you and Loki arrived the pediatric ward, doors sliding open and you wanted to puke, your throat raw and scratchy. It looked the exact same as it did when your little girl died here, same beige paint on the walls, the same as the rest of the hospital, only difference being the sickly bright yellow sun painted on the walls. The smell of antiseptic burned your nose, the fluorescent lights already starting a headache to pound in your skull. You pushed your emotions down as Loki exited the elevator, you trailing after him through the halls.

“I said nobody’s allowed in that room but her family.” Loki barked orders to officers as you rounded the corner. Keller Dover came into view, David yelling out for him as he took off down the hall away from you. “Where you goin’?

You stopped in front of Grace, “Where is he going?” She only shook her head, she had no idea. You took off running, multiple officers trailing you as bystanders stared at the scene unfolding in front of them.

You and Loki took off down the hall after him, telling officers to not let him go. Bolting outside you see Keller’s truck slam over the parking lot median and on the highway, speeding down it. Loki and you turn back, sprinting for the car to follow him, your breaths coming out in clouds in front of you in the cold air.

The tires screeched as Loki sped through the wet pavement of the parking lot; Loki pulled onto the highway, muttering to himself, “I got you now, fucker. I know where you’re goin’.”

The car pulled aggressively into the driveway of the old apartment building, Keller’s truck nowhere to be found. Loki slammed his hand down onto the steering wheel, “Fuck!” You jumped slightly at his outburst, adrenaline pumping through your views despite the feeling of pain in your entire body. He exited the car quickly, you following, your boots splashing through the muddy puddles as you advanced toward the boarded up building slowly.

Above you, you could hear muffled screams, you and Loki reach for your guns as you near the door. Loki kicks the door open with a bang, entering the building with his gun drawn. Your heart was in your throat as you crept through the first floor, heading up the stairs towards the sound of muffles screams and banging. Your pulse was racing and your vision was blurry, exhaustion nipping at your heels every step you took, threatening to take you down.

The screaming got louder as you got to the top of the stairs, wailing piercing the air. Your boots creak along the floorboards, you approach the room the screaming is coming from and the air escapes your lungs.

You see a boarded up area, the boards vibrated as whoever was behind it banged against it. You stood back, letting Loki enter as you reached for your radio and called for backup. Loki pries at the wood, it doesn’t budge at all, mocking you. The wailing continues, Loki calls out to the person, telling them to hold on. You clip your radio back onto your jeans and turn to look for anything to pry off the wood, not wanting to waste time by running back down to the car.

You see a crowbar lying against a wall, and you thank god as you grab it, the metal heavy in your hand. Loki grabs the crowbar from you and begins to work his way through the wood. The minutes seem to drag by, each second longer than the last.

“Hey, just hold on for us in there okay?” You talk through the wall as Loki finally gets the panel off revealing a sight that shook you to your core.

Alex Jones. Badly burned, bruised, bloody and beaten. He looked terrified, eyes wild with panic, whimpering in pain as he coward away from your gawking stares.

You stood next to Loki as Alex was taken away by EMS, O’Malley stood in front of you, “Someone needs to notify the aunt and we need to get an idea of where Keller is.”

You spoke up next to Loki, “I’ll tell the aunt.” Loki looked at you with a confused expression as O’Mallley nodded and walked away.

“I want to be the one to tell her, I’ll be fine, Loke.” You could tell by his expression that he was unsure about you going alone.

“Babe, if this is some karma thing for her-” It wasn’t. At least you didn’t think it was. Your little girl couldn’t be saved. You accepted that fact even if it tore your heart apart, forcing you to move on.

You interrupted Loki, not allowing him to finish his sentence, “Don’t. It’s not. Find Keller, I’ll tell Holly. I'll text you, alright?”

Loki nodded curtly as he handed you the car keys, he’d get a car from the station, an uneasy look spread across his face. He didn’t have a good feeling about letting you go alone, but he knew better than to hold you back from doing your job.

Little did he know that he would regret letting you go in alone more than words could describe.

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strawberrylemonz · 3 years

Text

The Other Side

Part 3

Part 4 [CURRENT]

Part 5

DT: @wintercat96

------------

“This is serious! Is everyone here yet?”

“Question, why is he here?”

“Shut up!”

“Okay, but does everyone need to be here? What is this even for?”

Puffy rubbed her forehead, annoyance filling her as the endless chatter filled the room. She began to regret calling everyone in for the meeting she had announced. Finally tired, she raised her voice over everyone else.

“Okay! We’re all settled down now, right?”

“Actually, Puffy, we’re missing someone.”

“Yes, Tubbo?”

“Tommy’s not here.”

“Exactly.”

Puffy watched as the various members on the server showed different reactions. Techno tensed as he averted his eyes, Phil’s lips pushed into a thin line as he stared down the ground in front of him. Tubbo seemed anxious and on edge, obviously worried for his best friend. Niki and Jack both seemed relieved, Sam was obviously distressed. Puffy felt let down as most of the server seemed indifferent or relieved at the news. Finally, breaking the silence, Dream spoke up.

“So what? He’s probably sleeping in or avoiding us. This is Tommy we’re talking about.”

“No, that’s not the issue. Tommy’s gone, guys.”

Puffy noted that she could have worded that better. She didn’t realize how it sounded, not until Tubbo’s eyes watered with tears. Realizing her mistake, Puffy quickly spoke up.

“No! I could have worded that better. He’s not dead, Tubbo, don’t worry. He’s been taken.”

“What?!”

Puffy watched as Tubbo shot up in his seat, Ranboo following in suit. The enderman hybrid did his best to calm his friend down, who was on the verge of hyperventilating. Techno seemed to have summoned a pickaxe without realizing it, and Phil used his flightless wings to instinctively cover both Wilbur and Techno. Sam appeared to be even more alert, his eyes shining with a bit more hope. George seemed indifferent to the news, not really caring. Sapnap narrowed his eyes, obviously still on the fence with the boy. Eret seemed truly devastated at the news, obviously regret showing through his body language. Surprisingly, the next person to speak up to Puffy was HBomb.

“How do you know this?”

Puffy pursed her lips as all eyes returned to her. Some of the eyes, like those of Ranboo, Tubbo and Sam, were filled with unspoken hope. Other’s, like Phil and Techno, were filled with confused rage. Building up her courage, Puffy confidently looked everyone in the eyes as she began to relay the events of the day Tommy disappeared.

--------

Wilbur was terrified. Tommy was nowhere to be seen, much to his devastation. He asked around everywhere, and managed to sneak into dangerous areas, hoping to find the boy. As much as he tried to push the boy away at the beginning, Wilbur eventually caved in and got attached to Tommy. The kid was like a younger brother to him, and now he was gone. Now, confused and hoping for answers, Wilbur had resorted to asking for others around him to join him on his quest to search for Tommy. Much to his dismay, however, only two people bothered to show up at the meeting place.

“It’s okay, Wilbur, we’ll find Tommy.”

“Yeah, then maybe he won’t want to go after me all the time.”

Wilbur hummed as he turned to face the only two who showed. Niki sat on a small boulder, hands on her knees, as Ranboo sat beside her, timid as ever. Shaking his head, Wilbur had to remind himself that it was even a miracle that anyone bothered to show up. Sitting down in front of the other two, Wilbur crossed his legs as he sighed.

“Okay, let’s go over the basics. When did we all last see Tomm-”

“Sorry I’m late, everybody. I just saw some...tasty meat.”

Wilbur quickly turned to see Tubbo, who wielded a knife, fresh with blood. Squinting his eyes and scrunching his nose, Wilbur just silently gave the boy a look. Tubbo just smiled at him, sitting down on the ground beside Ranboo.

“Where were you guys with the meeting?”

Grunting slightly, Wilbur huffed as he let the boy be. He had to keep reminding himself that finding Tommy will have been worth it.

“We were just about to discuss when we last saw Tommy.”

“Oh, easy! I saw him last week! It was kind of weird, honestly. He picked up this weird looking crystal, and then he was pulled away by it? I went to see what was happening, but then he disappeared in a flashing light.”

“I’m sorry, he what?”

--------

“Okay, where is he?!”

Techno and Phil were getting annoyed, their nerves being tested with every passing second. Wilbur, who joined them for lunch, just seemed amused at their interruption. Leaning on his arm, Wilbur smirked as Phil held Techno back, rubbing his eyes as he did so. The three of them watched as their intruders, disheveled and angry, threw accusations at them. Deo stood in between Bitzel and Luke, all three looking beyond enraged at the leaders of the other factions in front of them. Finally having enough, Phil slammed his fist on the table in front of him. This seemed to silence the boys, but it did nothing to calm their enraged states. Clearing his throat, Phil finally spoke up.

“What the fuck are three going on about?”

Deo narrowed his eyes as he stared down Phil, obviously mocking the leader.

“Don’t think you can fool us, you’re about the only ones who would take him. Now, once again, where is he?”

Phil and Techno seemed at the end of their patience, causing Wilbur to clear his throat. Rolling his eyes, the man spoke with an amused voice to the three members of Business Bay.

“Where is who?”

“Do you think we’re stupid? Are you serious? Tommy! Where is Tommy!? Who else would we be talking about?!”

Wilbur’s amusement left his eyes. Techno quirked an eyebrow as Phil sat up, confused. Sure, the three declared Business Bay as enemies and all that, but they all agreed on one thing: Tommy was amusing. The three of them had formed some form of attachment to the young teen, and they enjoyed teasing him. It was obvious that Wilbur viewed the boy as his younger brother, Techno treating him as such, no matter how much he denied it. Wilbur straightened his posture as he narrowed his eyes at the three boys, who haven’t settled down yet.

“Tommy is missing?”

“Of course Tommy is missing! Why else would we be here? Now, where is he?”

SLAM

All six occupants in the room quickly turned to the entrance, all at their wits end with no answer of where Tommy is. There, panting for air at the entrance of the room, stood an exhausted Wisp. As soon as he stood up, he seemed to be relieved at the sight of everyone who was in the room. Finally catching his breath, he finally spoke up.

“Business Bay! Perfect, that makes all this so much easier. Wilbur’s here too! Great, no more running around.”

Deo grit his teeth, not in the mood to deal with any of this.

“What do you want? We’re in the middle of something.”

Wisp nodded his head, obviously returning to his manic state from earlier.

“Right, sorry, but this is important.”

“Well? What is it?”

“Tommy fell off of the Business Bridge and disappeared in a flash.”

--------

“What are we going to do with the boys?”

Phil pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously in distress. Smiling at the distressed blonde, Kristin put a hand on her husband’s as she leaned on his shoulder. The two sat alone in the main foyer, watching the flames flicker from the fireplace. Humming, she traced shapes of all kinds on the back of Phil’s hand. Peering up at him, she spoke up with an amused tone.

“It’ll all be sorted out, Phil. We still have enough time left to rule, and we have three children. Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy are all finding their way. They have each other’s backs, and they have ours, just as we do them. The kingdom will have their new king in the future, not to worry.”

Phil chuckled as he peered down to his wife, who playfully nudged his shoulder. As per usual, his wife was right. His sons were allowed to enjoy their freedom at the moment, they didn’t need to worry about becoming kings, not yet. They still had so much to learn, so much to see. Smiling down at his wife, Phil leaned down as Kristin laughed, lifting her head to meet his. They were, sadly, quickly interrupted. The two jumped as the double doors slammed open, causing them to bump heads. Rubbing their foreheads, the two rulers turned to see who had run into the room in such a hurry. A servant was hunched over, out of breath, trying to speak to the two. Phil and Kristin stood up, concerned at the sight. Suddenly, Wilbur and Techno ran in, relieved to see their parents. It was obvious that the two were terrified, worried beyond belief. Walking over to her sons with haste, Kristin cupped their faces in worry.

“What’s wrong, boys? Why do you two look unease? And where is your brother?”

Wilbur appeared to be heartbroken at her words, tears welling up in his eyes. Techno was obviously in pain, no matter what his expression seemed to exhibit. Kristin hesitated for a moment, slowly lowering her hands. Wilbur quickly grasped her hand, terrified as desperate. Techno, on the other hand, loosely held onto her other hand. Phil made his way to his family, worry filling him as well.

“Boys?”

Kristin pursed her lips together, sharing a look with her husband. Returning her gaze to her sons, she put on a stern tone as she spoke up once more.

“William, Technoblade, what’s wrong?”

Wilbur couldn’t speak, he couldn’t bring the words to leave his mouth. Finally, unable to keep it in any longer, Techno spoke up. His quiet, emotional voice left Kristin and Phil shocked. His words, however, would haunt them.

“Tommy’s gone. He was taken from the grounds.”

Phil sucked in a breath, not believing what he heard. There was a moment of silence, only a moment. Then, piercing the silence, was Kristin’s heartbroken scream as she fell to her knees.

--------

Jack hummed as he sat on the porch, watching the rain fall from the sky. Niki and Tommy had momentarily left, both taking advantage of the fact that Niki could roam the overworld. The two promised that they would finally finish the “special gift” they had planned for the blaze hybrid. He didn’t mind being left alone, not at the moment. This was one of the few moments that he enjoyed sitting back, watching the droplets hit the ground. He wasn’t in any pain, and that’s all that mattered. The overworld was large, that was something that he learned quickly. It seemed endless, covered in diverse lands and structures. It was full of different kinds of people as well, something he found interesting. He was glad to have found Niki and Tommy, grateful even. His mind wandered to the name of their group. The Misfits, as Tommy had dubbed the three of them, fit nicely. They truly were viewed as the “weak-links” of the group, no matter how dumb the reasons were. So what if Niki could only leave the water when it rained? She had a huge advantage in the lagoons and oceans! It was because of her that he even had a safe way to enter her secret ocean base. And Tommy? Jack didn’t understand why the others thought that his ability to glide, float and increase his speed, were all dumb abilities. It was because of Tommy that Jack was even able to come up to the overworld, and his abilities to glide truly did help him complete that with haste. No matter, the three of them were amazing. Only time would show everyone else that as well. Before he could continue his train of thought, however, pink hair caught his eye. There, running from the forest, was Niki. Panic filled her eyes as she ran up to Jack, who stood up from his spot on the porch.

“Niki? What’s wrong?”

Standing up straight, Niki’s panic seeped into her tone of voice. Jack was growing concerned, even more so when he couldn’t spot Tommy anywhere. Did the boy get injured? Did he run out of food?

“Niki?”

“There was this purple gem! It was so sparkly and pretty, so unique and new! Tommy picked it up to hand it to me, but then it pulled him into the air! Before I could even react, he disappeared in a bright light!”

And before Jack could respond, the rain stopped pouring.

#into the Tommyverse #into the tommyverse au #antarctic empire #business bay #hybrid au (still don't know the name we settled on)#rust au #dsmp au #tommyinnit fanfic

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emilia3546 · 3 years

Text

Shadowsinger Part 6 - Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

*****

Azriel was still asleep when she opened her eyes, his hair falling over his eyes as his head dropped onto the back of the chair, had he slept there all night? She couldn't think how he actually managed to fall asleep in a chair of all places. He opened his eyes as she sat up,

"Morning, sleepyhead," she laughed, and he yawned,

"Morni-" and yawned again, setting Gwyn laughing again,

"C'mere, you're hair's all messy." She leaned towards him, quickly tiding it up, brushing it backwards through her fingers, not quite registering how still he had gone until she had finished and sat back, "There we go, that's better,"

"Thank you," he said, his voice much lower than usual, still with notes of sleep in it, she had never noticed it before, and she had to force herself to get up normally, and wash her face, without thinking about that voice. She stared into the mirror for a few moments, mentally preparing herself to face him again, "Gwyn, I'm gonna go and get dressed, I'll see you at breakfast."

"Okay," she shouted back, shit. How was the sound of his voice slowly shredding her self-control? It was just the change in his voice, nothing else, it couldn't be anything else she told herself. She was foolish to even consider it.

Apparently, Cassian and Nesta hadn't emerged yet, so it was just Gwyn and Azriel at the dining table that morning, forcing Gwyn to try to control her thoughts, to push any thoughts of him aside and focus on her food. She hated the silence, it felt wrong, unnatural, and she sighed, anything to break the stillness around them. Even that small sound seemed to wake Azriel,

"Gwyn," she looked up, startled, and smiled, "I just wanted to talk to you about what's going on in Illyria." Oh, she'd forgotten to ask Nesta,

"Okay,"

"I don't know how much Nesta's already told you,"

"I haven't had a chance to ask her yet, so very little."

"Okay, well, the bottom line is that there are those among the Illyrians who hate the changes Rhys has been implementing. Banning wing-clipping, and enforcing it, forcing them to train females, and putting systems in place for those who want help, so they can contact us easily, without their families knowing." Gwyn nodded, good, she'd heard about wing-clipping, seen what had happened to Emerie, it was about time it was finally gotten rid of, completely.

"Okay, so, some of them don't like it, then,"

"No, there are some who have been attempting to ignore the laws, and have failed," he added, seeing her worry, "And then there are those who are restless, hating that they fall under Rhys' jurisdiction. They want an independent Illyria, and freedom to treat their females how they wish." Gwyn gasped,

"They wouldn't survive on their own, right? They don't have a unified leader, anyone who wanted would be able to invade easily, and their army is paid by Rhysand, they couldn't afford it otherwise."

"Exactly, that's why the wannabe rebels are a minority, but they are there. I promised you no secrets, it's no good trying to protect you from this. There's nothing that could happen in Velaris though, any potential fighting will be in Illyria."

"You're going to fight?" He'd only come back from another war a year ago, and she couldn't face the thought of him, of any of them, on a battlefield.

"Maybe. Hopefully it won't come to that. Hopefully, the loyal Illyrians will be able to stop a full rebellion before it starts. Most of them do support Rhys' new laws, but the minority are very vocal."

"You need to know who is stirring up violence then. And where, and how many, and how strong they are."

"Y-yeah, exactly, have you been reading about this?"

"No, why?"

"Never mind, it's just, you seem to know exactly what to look for, and at dinner last night, you were paying attention to everyone."

"I was just trying to work out what to talk about, I doubt I'd remember it."

"Oh, really, who was complaining, quietly I might add, about the wine running out?"

"Mor."

"Yeah, and what did Rhys say?"

"That it served her right for drinking all his best wine." Azriel raised an eyebrow,

"And Feyre?"

"Laughed at both of them, and called Rhysand a pretentious prick."

"So you don't remember anything?" Gwyn laughed,

"I don't know."

"You instincts are spot-on. It takes months of training for some of my spies to learn to listen to a room like that," he mused,

"Then train me."

"What?"

"Train me. To be a spy, maybe I can help with Illyria."

"Absolutely not, you've not even trained to fight for that long, I'm not letting you anywhere near rebellious Illyrians."

"That's stupid, Az. Train me to help, or at least to listen, I visit Emerie at Windhaven quite often, so I can at least help you get a picture of what it's like there, if nowhere else. Please, I want to be helpful, I'm done being useless."

"You've never been useless, Gwyn, and I will train you, but only so that you have an extra skill set to defend yourself, not so you can go and spy in Illyria." Gwyn huffed,

"Az. You're being stupid, stop trying to keep me safe, train me, and then let me use those skills."

*****

Gwyn was glaring at him, annoyance glimmering in her eyes, he was being stupid, but some part of him couldn't bear the thought of her in danger. She kept her gaze on him as she finished eating, giving him a chance to think,

"I won't say yes," Gwyn shot him another exasperated look, "But," he continued, "You can be a last resort, only if my usual spies can't get in, or can't find anything, then you can go." She narrowed her eyes, considering, and nodded,

"Perhaps Em has heard something, we should ask her today." Azriel nodded, and quickly tidied up their plates,

"You wanna help set up for training?" He grinned, "Should be fun today," Gwyn sat bolt upright,

"Oh no, no, I know that look, you're going to be mean, is there an obstacle course of something?"

"You'll have to come if you want to find out," he slipped out of the room, chuckling as she swore and scrambled out of her chair to follow him. Gwyn's eyes widened at the sight of the course he and Cassian had secretly set up last night before dinner,

"What is it?" She breathed, pretending to be nervous of it, but Azriel noticed how she was shifting her weight from foot to foot, how her voice raised in pitch slightly, she wasn't scared. She was excited,

"It's sort of an obstacle course, but this one simulates enemies, so Cass and I can both watch you fight, without one of us having to be the opponent. And, as a bonus, the second half is brilliant for silent movement training, which is what we'll work up to if you want lessons from me." Gwyn nodded gleefully, and Azriel chuckled at her excitement, "There's only a few things I need to get set up now, the moving parts and stuff. If you like, you can get the weapons racks out and ready while I do that."

As expected, Gwyn was right at the front of the queue to tackle the course, with Nesta and Emerie right behind her, she was bouncing on her toes, waiting, waiting,

"Go!" Cassian's shout spurred her into action, and she leaped over the wall obscuring the course from her view, immediately ducking the padded bar swinging towards her head. She kept light on her feet as she ducked and weaved between moving obstacles, one wrong step and she'd be sent flying. Gwyn kept her focus on one obstacle at a time, facing one, and moving to the next, she rolled sideways, and leaped onto a wall to avoid the final bar, and it slammed into the wood next to her. She gasped, and glared at Azriel, but he chuckled, it wouldn't have really hurt her if she hadn't moved, just left a bruise perhaps, but the near-miss spurred her on, and she sprinted for the next obstacle, but her undivided focus left her exposed for the first 'enemy' to knock her feet out from underneath her. Gwyn gasped and rolled, and Nesta craned her neck to try to see at the sound, glaring at Cassian, and mouthed something at him,

"She says that if Gwyn's hurt, she'll kill us both," Cassian whispered, and Azriel snorted,

"She can try," Gwyn had rolled forwards, her hands automatically raising into her guard, and she easily blocked the next blow from the padded gloves,

"Wait! Az, how do I win?" She shouted when she ducked past and landed a blow, but barely ducked the backhanded counter-strike,

"You run, Gwyn. Run!" He shouted, "You have to beat the obstacles whilst avoiding your enemies, try not to activate the rest of them," Gwyn shot him a look before taking off, and made it past the next obstacle, before another 'enemy' activated, and she was trapped between the two of them. Azriel deactivated them with a quick command to his shadows before they could hurt her, but she was still stuck,

"Azriel!" She shouted, "Make them move, you idiot!" He didn't respond, and just chuckled at her annoyance, "Azriel!" She snapped again, and he reset the course, offering her a hand over the fence to the training ring, and chuckled when she slapped it aside, climbing over herself,

"Not bad for a first try. But, you've got to be aware of your surroundings a bit more, focus on the obstacle, but be aware of the rest of them, both of those enemies were avoidable, in fact, all of them are. When I tested this yesterday, I didn't set any off, Cass set off a few, but you should be able to avoid all of them. You're smaller than us, more agile, use that to your advantage." Gwyn nodded, and grinned when he marked her place, "Beat that next time."

Nesta came within spitting distance of Gwyn's record, a sprained ankle as she underestimated the distance of a jump sending her sprawling to the floor. She was still leaning against Cassian as he fussed whilst Emerie ran the course, only losing when a wing clipped an obstacle, knocking her off balance. She swore, but scrambled over the fence to join her sisters to watch the other females.

"Make sure you cool off, ladies," Azriel called, "Gwyn, you're with me," he stepped aside to a quiet corner of the ring. "First off, I want you to learn to move silently, it should be easy here, there's no stones to move, or creaky floorboards. Go and stand by the wall, and try to reach me without my hearing you."

"Your shadows-"

"They won't betray you, I honestly think they'd rather betray me than you," Gwyn snorted, "Make sure you place your feet carefully, and move slower than you think you need to." Gwyn nodded and Azriel turned his back, waiting for her footsteps to halt as she reached the wall. Ten meters. That was all she needed to cross. She took a deep breath, and fell silent, but after what must have been only a few steps, she rushed, placing a foot too quickly, and Azriel whirled, "Start again, you rushed, move slowly," Gwyn alerted him quickly three more times, groaning in exasperation each time he sent her back to the start, but gradually she started getting closer, only her excitement getting the better of her. She was one step away from him when she scuffed the ground,

"No!" she hissed when Azriel turned to face her, "I can do it, I can."

"I know you can, don't celebrate too early, that's the only issue." Gwyn sighed, and started again, this time remaining silent until she poked him in the shoulder and let out a whoop of delight, grinning at him, and he laughed. She was shining, and his heart leapt with her, his shadows too, her joy becoming his own, and she practically bounced up to him and beamed up at him. There was just something about her, her mere presence lifted his worries, and let his shadows roam, not constrained, but freed. She didn't chase them off as Elain had, or even Mor, she made them sing. He blinked, and realized he'd been staring, so coughed, and forced himself to look away, "Grab a sword, practice your basic movements silently."

Gwyn picked everything up remarkably quickly, it had only taken her half an hour to reach him, and now she was already adapting that technique to the swordplay, even moving the sword silently through the air. Azriel had begun coaching her through it, but now he too fell silent, just watching her, only occasionally offering pointers, and stopped her when he noticed her swings slowing down, her breathing speeding up,

"Go jog a lap, then stretch off, that's enough for today." Azriel stayed to watch, making sure she cooled off completely before leaving her to bathe and change, he should have reports to read from all his spies by now anyway, and Rhys would want an overview this evening.

*****

Gwyn toweled her hair off, and for the first time since she could remember, she had no work to do, Merrill hadn't sent her any messages, any demands more like, and she didn't feel like just sitting and reading on her own. She grabbed her book off her nightstand, and went to find Nesta, but made a face when she heard suspect noises from her friend's room, turning on her heel and heading back the way she had come. She still didn't want to be alone, so she knocked on Azriel's door, and pushed it open at the grunt from inside,

"Can I sit with you, Nesta is, uh, y'know, and I don't want to be on my own. I won't disturb you," she added, noticing the paperwork on his desk, and he smiled,

"Of course, it's just reports to go through,"

"Anything interesting?"

"No. Not yet, but I've only read through a couple, hopefully someone will have something." Gwyn nodded, and settled into an armchair to read. They fell into a comfortable silence, each reading their own material, at ease in each other's company.

As time wore on, Azriel's brows scrunched together, and he narrowed his eyes, even his shadows seemed agitated as they flitted between the two of them. Gwyn set her book aside, and crossed to his side, gently resting a hand on his shoulder,

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing important," he offered her a small smile, "Don't worry," Gwyn squeezed his shoulder softly,

"Az, what is it? Even if I can't help, let me take some of the burden. I won't pretend to know what your job's like, but please, let me help however I can."

"You are helping, by being here, by being safe, you're helping. I have so many people to worry about," he raised the papers, "I can't easily protect them, but you, and the rest of you here, I can keep you safe here. That burden lessens when you're all here." Gwyn softly cleared a spot on the desk, tiding the unusually messy papers, and sat in front of him,

"Did something go wrong?"

"No, I'm just worried it might, honestly, Gwyn, I'm fine." Gwyn narrowed her eyes disbelievingly but before she had a chance to respond, Azriel pushed his chair backwards, and made for the door, "I need to clear my head a bit, I'll be back in a bit."

"Oh, okay," of course he didn't want her help, she was probably just a nuisance, she couldn't possibly understand the stresses he faced on a daily basis. If he needed help he'd ask Cassian, she should leave him alone. But, even as she allowed him time, something made her feet move, made her climb the stairs to the roof.

The stars were beautiful, shining together, and she relaxed at the familiar sight, counting the stars as she had since she was a little girl. She stopped moving at the sight of another figure sitting on the edge of the roof, hunched over, his knees drawn up to his chest, with his great,beautiful wings drooping behind him. Gwyn made her presence known as she crossed the roof and sat beside him,

"Az," she whispered, and put an arm around his shoulders, "Please. Talk to me." he shook his head, staring into the distance still, even as a wing shifted closer to her, "What's wrong?" He just turned to face her, his beautiful face filled with despair, his eyes, usually so full of life were dimmed, empty. Gwyn moved before she knew what she was doing, cupping his face in her hand, and he leaned into the touch, "What happened?" She breathed,

"Nothing. That's the problem. Nothing. I can't even do my job." He broke off and turned away, but Gwyn turned him back,

"Talk to me."

"Rhys has a meeting with all the Camp Lords tomorrow, it could be the make or break moment for the rebellion. I was supposed to get information, who tries to fight his new laws, who wants to fight back, you know. I have nothing. He's going in blind. It's my fault, I failed him. Again." Tears pricked Gwyn's eyes at the despair in his voice, the self-loathing.

"You didn't fail anyone. You did everything you could."

"I could have gone in myself."

"To Illyria? They'd have clammed up completely at the slightest whiff that you were there. You have to trust your spies, and sometimes they won't find anything, and it isn't your fault."

"I couldn't even get them in to some camps."

"Again, they couldn't get in, not you. They work for you, but something that goes wrong on their end does not mean that you let anyone down. Sometimes things go wrong, and no-one is to blame."

"I can't keep letting him down."

"You don't keep letting him down. You could never let him down."

"I did. I wasn't with him when he went to that meeting. I could have stopped it." Gwyn knew the meeting he was talking about, "There was no-one to sniff his drink, if I had been there, she would never have been able to sink her claws into him." Gwyn just nestled into his side, letting him talk, "Fifty years, Gwyn. I failed to find a way to save him for fifty years! And then when he got back, I got injured at Hybern, I forced Feyre to go back to Spring. I am the reason that he almost lost his mate as soon as he found her. I should have known that the queens were after Feyre's sisters in the first place, but I failed them, too." Gwyn rubbed his shoulder, holding his gaze as he spoke, "I was too slow in the battle, he died because I couldn't help."

"No." Gwyn breathed, “He died to heal the Cauldron, you couldn't have done anything.”

"Yes, I could. I was with Helion, his specialty is spellwork. If I'd gotten him there faster, they could have worked together."

"You got him there fast enough to revive him."

"But without Feyre, we never would have had the chance. I can't risk something happening again, for all I know, they might all attack him at the meeting. He'd be fine, but still, I should know if there's a plan like that." Azriel finally stopped for a breath, his gaze returning a little, actually looking at her, not just seeing.

"Az, you have done everything and more that anyone could possibly expect. Plan for what might happen, with what you have, but we can't use what we don't have, so don't beat yourself up about it. Please." It broke her, seeing him like this, miserable, thinking he didn't deserve everything he had built for himself. She couldn't bear the thought of him suffering, alone, thinking that he'd failed those he loved most. Before she could reconsider, she was singing, singing the only song she knew would help him, his mother's lullaby,

Arrorró mi niño

Arrorró mi sol

Duérmase pedazo

De mi corazón

Cierre los ojitos

Ya se va a dormir

Que el pícaro sueño

No quiere venir.

Azriel's gaze remained on her as she sang, his breathing becoming more regular, until his shadows began to dance. She was still leaning against his side when the song finished, and she started again, tears pricking her eyes when he joined in, no hint of the misery left in his voice, just hope.

"Let's get to bed, it's late," she whispered, and Azriel didn't complain as she led him back to his room, but when she turned to leave, she couldn't. He needed her now. She perched on the bed beside him, setting a pillow against the wall, and sang again, stroking his hair as he drifted off to sleep, his head in her lap.

*****

Azriel actually felt rested for the first time in far too long, his mind clear, focused, and he carefully lifted Gwyn into his arms. She snuggled into him as he carried her back to her own room, leaving her sleeping, safe in her own bed. He left her a note,

Gone with Rhys to the meeting, I'll be back this evening. Thank you.

He stole one last look at Gwyn's sleeping form before slipping away.

#fanfiction #fanfic #acotar #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #Azriel #azriel x gwyn #gwyn #gwyn acosf #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara

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ahogehope · 3 years

Text

BlazBlue Alternative Dark War Nightmare Fiction Event English Translation (Part 8: At the Edge)

IT’S FINALLY OVER! -cue game over music-

PLEASE READ THIS FIRST: I realize this isn’t getting as much (actually not much of any) traffic as opposed to the reddit posts, but I’d like to extend this request over here as well. I’d definitely like to continue working on translations for this game but am unsure whether I should jump right into the most current event (the Dark Mai one) or start on actual story content next. So my question is: what do you guys want to see more? Reply to this post or shoot me an ask or whatever it is tumblr does these days.

Crossposted from reddit just for a little more exposure.

This is part 8, or the ninth story quest in the event.

Previous parts can be found here: [Part 1-1, Part 1-2, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7]

Some notes:

- The default name of Rei is used for the player character and was selected as male at the beginning of the game.

- I’m still on the fence on if I should be using honorifics or not. Your opinion on the matter would be greatly appreciated.

Click here to be taken to a pastebin with the translated dialogue or look under the read more to read it here.

Section 8 – “At the Edge” (TL: Read as “kazuaru hazama-nite”)

Kazuma This is...

Ciel It’s very similar to the room we found hidden beneath Ishana.

Raabe So... this is the “innermost part.”

Hazama Oh? What’s with you guys all of a sudden? You’ve all got this shocked look on your faces. Have you guys been here before?

>We’ve been somewhere like this before. Hazama Really? Normally I’d ask to hear more about what sort of place that was but... Hazama We’re not exactly in the best place to be taking our time, wouldn’t you agree?

>Never seen it before in my life. Hazama Hey now, don’t just leave me in the dark like that. Hazama You’ll just make me even more curious if you keep it a secret, y’know. Hazama But... now isn’t really the best time to get into that, is it?

Fuzzy Raabe’s right though. This is the innermost part you guys have been so keen on getting to.

Fuzzy You brought those six keys here so you could activate the elements... and finally escape.

Raabe What happens next then?

Fuzzy You’ll just have to find out for yourself, right? You will, won’t you? Really though, even I don’t have any idea what’s supposed to happen next. Ahahaha.

Raabe We don’t have much of a choice either way, it would seem.

Kazuma As soon as we activate the elements, all of the mana we’ve collected will activate with them and accumulate around us.

Kazuma Much more mana than we’re used to will gather together in one place.

Hazama Will that be problematic for us?

Kazuma There’s no reason why it should be. This is probably the perfect place for it actually...

Fuzzy If you’re gonna go ahead and start it up, I’d let Kazuma do it. Since he’s a magician he should be used to working with mana and the elements already.

Ciel Kazuma-san, would you be willing to activate the elements for us?

Kazuma I, uh, yeah, I can do that. That shouldn’t be too difficult.

Kazuma Let’s see here...

Hazama You’ve looked like you’ve had something on your mind for a while now.

Hazama I agree that Kazuma-san’s the best suited out of all of us to carry this out but... don’t push yourself if you don’t think you can handle it.

Hazama If we really have to we can always looks for another way to activate them...

Kazuma ......

Kazuma ...No.

Kazuma I can do it.

Raabe Hey, hold on...

Hazama Are you sure?

Kazuma Yes. Please, allow me.

[a green magic circle appears, surrounded by the six elements]

Hazama Oh my... I can already feel how the air around us has changed. Looks like you managed to pull it off without a hitch after all.

Ciel Is this... activated mana? But this feeling, where have I...

Raabe It can't be. This is...! Hey, Kazuma! Stop whatever it is that you’re doing!

Kazuma ......

Raabe Are you even listening!? Earth to Kazuma!!

Kazuma ...Ah... it’s just like I thought. I was wondering... if that’s what it was...

>What’s wrong, Kazuma-san? >Who are you talking to?

Kazuma Who...

[a dark green shadow with veins and one glowing eye starts to materialize]

Hazama Uuh, guh, ghh....

Ciel Hazama-san? Is something wrong?

Hazama Please be careful... Something’s... coming...!

[the shadow becomes fully visible]

Raabe Wh... What’s going on?

Fuzzy Hmm, I wonder what it could be～? What do you think?

Fuzzy What about you, Rei? What do your “eyes” see? You can see it, can’t you?

Raabe Don’t look. ...I guess that’s impossible, huh. Try not to focus as much as you can. This... isn’t a collection of mana.

Ciel Raabe-san, Rei-san! We’ve got a problem.

Ciel I’ve confirmed the appearance of the cauldron.

Ciel But... there’s nothing around here that looks like it could be the cauldron. And if there’s a cauldron here, then who is the Observer...?

Raabe They’re both right in front of us.

Ciel Eh? Wh-What do you mean?

Raabe The cauldron came into existence across this entire world the moment this guy appeared. In other words, that shadow... it’s the Observer.

Raabe It’s also the cauldron. There’s no other explanation for this sort of reaction. This much condensed seithr... this is the cauldron.

Hazama What’s that now? Seithr?

Hazama You mean what Kazuma-san’s magic is activating right now isn’t...

Raabe It’s not the elements or mana, no. It’s seithr!

??? Ahh～ god, you losers took fore～ver to show up.

Ciel !?

??? Shit though, you guys sure have been through a lot, huh? But thanks to you I can talk as much as I want again.

>The shadow spoke! ??? Kyahahahaha, just a shadow, eh... Well, I guess that’ll have to do for now.

>Who are you? ??? What, you wanna know my name? You really wanna know who I am? Sure, I’ll humor you...

Kazuma ...Yuuki Terumi...

Spirit Terumi Oops, looks like you beat me to it. But yeah, the kid’s right. Don’t go forgetting it, numbskulls.

Spirit Terumi Yuuki Terumi. That’s the name, folks.

Hazama You were lurking inside of me.

Hazama Earlier when we were fighting Saya-san, she said she had sensed something within me... I wasn’t entirely sure what she meant at the time.

Hazama I had no idea that it would turn out to be something like this.

Spirit Terumi Hyahahahaha! Damn, I didn’t realize you were so out of the loop, Hazama-chan.

Ciel So you’re familiar with Hazama-san as well.

Spirit Terumi Oh yeah, best of buddies, thickest of thieves, call it what you like but we’re rea～l intimate. In fact, I know all you guys.

Spirit Terumi You’re the morons who’ve been running all over the city doing my dirty work for me. Hyahahahahahaha!

Kazuma So you were... using us? Does that mean that Fuzzy-san was also...?

Fuzzy Can’t say I know about any of this. I’m only here to fulfill my role. Really I’m just a pawn here.

Fuzzy You guys are all just pawns too. But even the pawns are necessary in the end, right? It’s not really a game if all the pieces aren’t in order, after all.

Spirit Terumi The trap over here gets it. And now since you’ve been such good little slaves so far, how’s about you do me one last teensy-weensy favor...

Spirit Terumi And die for me, will you? Hyahahahahaha!

Raabe I see now. We’ve been playing right into his hands this entire time.

Raabe When Kazuma started the activation sequence, he wasn’t channeling the mana or the elements. He wound up summoning this guy instead.

Ciel No way... Then does that mean the whole story about escaping from the city was a lie?

Spirit Terumi Come on, even if I’m not that cruel. I’ll still let you guys out.

Spirit Terumi All aboard the Terumi express! Now serving a one-way trip straight into the Boundary! Just make sure to keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle, or you might lose them!

Hazama Are you always this egotistical?

Hazama Things may have gone your way up until now, but we’re not going to just stand here and let you do whatever you want.

Hazama ...It was wrong of me to bring you all this way when I sensed something was amiss, no matter how small it may have been.

Hazama Looks like I got you all mixed up in something undesirable after all... I’m really sorry, Rei-san.

Hazama But I don’t think I’ll be able to handle this one by myself. I’m afraid I must ask for your assistance one last time.

>Let’s all get out of here together. Hazama Thank you. I’m... truly glad to have met you.

>Let’s kick his ass and get the hell out of here! Spirit Terumi Ooh, someone’s a little touchy. That sort of enthusiasm is contagious, y’know.

Ciel Assuming combat position. All eyes on target. Ready when you are!

Raabe His form is still unstable. It’s hard to say if his existence has fully taken root yet or not.

Raabe The reaction he’s giving off is definitely strong but... he might not be able to use the full extent of his power the way he is now.

Raabe We need to strike before all of the seithr has finished gathering in one place. Let’s get this over with quickly.

Fuzzy Go, go! You can do it!

Hazama Are you ready for this, Kazuma-san?

Kazuma Ah, uh... Right.

Spirit Terumi Oh? You wouldn’t really team up against little ol’ me, would you? Heheheheh.

Hazama Well then. Let’s go, Terumi-san.

Spirit Terumi Guh, shit...! My power... no, none of this shit. None of it’s good enough!

Kazuma ......

Fuzzy Whoa. You guys really creamed him.

Hazama ...I think that shadow inside of me... Terumi-san detached himself completely from me during the course of that fight.

Hazama It’s the strangest feeling. It’s unsettling but also like a... weight’s been lifted, in a sense.

Spirit Terumi Ha, haha... Hyahahaha...! Damn, that really could’ve gone better.

Spirit Terumi I guess you win this one. I really lost to some lame spin-off side characters. Ain’t that right?

Kazuma Yes. I... think that’s what happened.

Spirit Terumi Heh, hahahaah! Yeah, them’s the breaks, huh. Tch, what a pain in the ass.

Spirit Terumi Man, this sucks... you’re really blue-balling me here. Taking on a bunch of pussies like you should’ve been a joke.

Spirit Terumi Sure screwed myself on that one.

Kazuma ...Please send us back.

Kazuma As long as you do that... I don’t think we’ll have to hurt you anymore.

Spirit Terumi Ha! Hurt me? You really think you can hurt me? Hyahaha, you don’t have a lot going on underneath that pretty face, do you, kid?

Spirit Terumi Don’t make me laugh.

Ciel Are you going to continue resisting?

Spirit Terumi Oooh, close but no cigar! This isn’t what you’d call resistance...

Spirit Terumi This is an escape!

[static]

Kazuma ...Ah. H-Huh?

Ciel This is...

>It’s Ishana! Kazuma Yes, this is Ishana. It’s the same place we were before we found ourselves in that strange city...

>Are we back? Ciel ...It would appear so. This is where we were standing before we were taken to that strange city.

Ciel But what does this mean? It’s safe to say that we took out the Observer but we weren’t able to destroy the Cauldron...

Ciel Regardless... we managed to escape the Phantom Field.

Raabe I still need to look into everything further so this is just a hypothesis for now, but...

Raabe I don’t think that city was an undiscovered Phantom Field.

Raabe It’s foundation was built on Ishana who had already lost its Observer.

Raabe Using the power of Observation, that shadow calling itself Terumi must have found its way in and overwrote things when it took over.

Kazuma So it was... re-Observed?

Raabe That’s exactly what it was.

Raabe In other words, we weren’t so much moved somewhere else as it was our surroundings themselves were changing before our eyes... That’s probably what happened.

Hazama Well, it was certainly an experience I could have lived without and I’m still not overly sure how any of it was possible but...

Hazama Everything worked out in the end, right?

Hazama We all made it out safe and sound. Let’s be thankful for that, shall we?

Hazama Ahh～, truly all’s well that ends well.

Ciel Hazama-san. And Fuzzy-san, too. The two of you came back to Ishana as well I see.

Fuzzy Bzzt, wrong answer. Really, did you hear a thing Raabe just said? None of us actually came back anywhere.

Fuzzy We were all just sort of displaced.

Ciel Ah, so we were. So then would Fuzzy-san and Hazama-san be considered foreign entities in this situation?

Raabe There’s no way to know for sure what the Phantom Field has classified them as but... that’s probably the case.

Raabe Neither of them are involved with Ishana.

Hazama Hmm～, while this place does look incredibly delightful, I’m afraid this isn’t where I belong.

Fuzzy Me either. I’m not getting any good vibes from the ambience around here. I don’t think I’d fit in very well.

Raabe ...Once a Phantom Field has been liberated of its Observer, any foreign materials left behind should gradually start to return to where they were originally from.

Raabe Here soon your existential information should be sent back to your own worlds.

Fuzzy I guess we’re stuck hanging around here until that happens, huh～.

Fuzzy Well, not like it matters. I’ve never been here before so there’s no harm in exploring a bit. Don’t you think?

[Fuzzy leaves]

Hazama And there he goes. I suppose it’s best to just let him have his fun while he can.

Hazama But more importantly... Rei-san, Ciel-san, Kazuma-san, Raabe-san.

Hazama Thank you all so much for your help.

Hazama When I was still wandering around all by myself, I was at a loss as to what I was supposed to do...

Hazama But as soon as I joined up with you guys, everything just sort of naturally clicked into place.

Hazama A lot happened back there, but I want you to know that from the bottom of my heart I’m grateful we were able to escape from that bizarre city.

Raabe ...Is that all you have to say? I can’t say I’m very convinced.

Raabe It still feels like you’ve been manipulating us this entire time.

Hazama Don’t be ridiculous! It must’ve been fate that I ran into you when I did. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.

Hazama I’d even go so far as to say that you saved me.

Hazama I’m honestly in your debt. If you ever need an extra hand for something, I’ll be sure to do everything in my power to help you out.

Hazama Then again... I can’t guarantee that the me you’ll encounter then will be the same as I am now.

Hazama Let’s do this the right way this time. My name is Hazama. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

Hazama Rei-san.

>Pleased to meet you.

Hazama Yes. I wish you all the best.

Ciel ......

Raabe ...We still need to head back and check the data to see if this was indeed the abnormality the System was detecting.

Raabe We’ve overstayed our welcome. Let’s return to base.

Kazuma ...I guess this is goodbye then.

Kazuma Hadn’t you said earlier that you couldn’t stay for long?

Ciel That’s correct. We’re still only outsiders in this world.

Kazuma ......

Kazuma ...I’m really glad I was able to see you again. Getting to spend more time together... it was really fun.

Kazuma I feel like I know myself a little better now.

Kazuma Thank you so much.

Ciel There’s no need to thank us. We were merely here for our mission.

Kazuma You’re as blunt as always, Ciel-san...

Kazuma ...I think I have my own perplexing “mission” in front of me... nevermind. Hang in there for me, will you?

Kazuma I’m rooting for you.

>Thank you. >Good luck, Kazuma-san.

[static]

Kagami Rei! Ciel! Thank god you guys made it back in one piece～!

Ciel Oh. You startled me. What’s the matter, Kagami-san? You seem out of sorts.

Kagami Well, what did you expect!? Almost as soon as you two got in you just fell off the grid!

Kagami I wasn’t able to pinpoint where either of were for a long time...

Kagami Your signals only reappeared inside Ishana’s Phantom Field a little while ago, y’know!

Kagami So what happened? Nevermind, it’ll be faster to get the answers from Raabe’s internal data.

Kagami Either way, I’ll get an investigation started. First you guys need to go get a medical check.

Kagami And watch yourselves this time, got it!?

Ciel Y-Yes, ma’am.

Kagami I can’t let you out of my sight for even a second. Geez...

[Kagami leaves]

Ciel It would seem we’ve caused quite the stir in our absence.

Ciel Let’s head to the medical room. I’ll go with you, Rei-san.

Hazama So this is supposed to be the famous Ishana, huh? Now that I’ve finally gotten a good look at it, it truly is nothing more than a ghost town.

Hazama ...Well then. I wonder where I should be heading next? With the help of those suckers, I was able to remove the chain that was inside me.

Hazama I should be able to go just about anywhere now.

Hazama At any rate, Terumi-san is right back where he should be. Although I can’t say I’m overly thrilled that he left me to do all the grunt work by myself.

Hazama ...I would have been in quite the bind if it weren’t for that boy, though. Heheh.

Hazama But still, what a successful endeavor that turned out to be!

Hazama For me, for Terumi-san... Even for him.

Hazama “End Gazer”... The One Who Sees the End. I can’t wait to see how this will play out.

Kazuma ......

Kazuma Ishana... All these years here, and I still haven’t learned a thing.

Kazuma But... I feel like I finally know why I’m here... Just a little...

Kazuma I feel like I’m home.

https://imgur.com/a/VfNvhRF

#blazblue #blazblue alternative dark war #bb:dw #translations #hazama #im so happy this is done with #im glad i saw it through to the end but GOD that was an adventure #this is definitely something I'll look back on in a few years and go #wow this is awful #but for now! i am satisfied

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

Text

Seasons Change (d.s.) - TWO

↳ A/N This one’s a little long but will give you a good insight into daily farm life at the Seavey residence!

↳ Summary: Everyone knows everything about everyone in this small rural town in east Connecticut and the handsome single father who owns the farm down the main street seems to always be the talk of the town. Balancing the care of his acreage, raising his school-age son, and coaching the local boys’ hockey team keeps Daniel busy; but his mind never strays far from the expansive and vibrant flower gardens planted outside his farmhouse.

↳ Word Count: 2901

↳ Warnings: This story touches on topics such as loss of loved ones and grief. Nothing too detailed but read at your own discretion x

Every morning at 5:30, Daniel’s alarm rang loudly from his bedside table. It was routine now to pull himself out of his far too empty queen size bed and get dressed by the light of the bathroom sconces alone. The sun was rarely over the horizon this early but he opened the curtains in his bedroom and headed downstairs in jeans and a t-shirt, opening up the rest of the house in preparation for sunup. Lennox was still fast asleep in his bed when Daniel stepped out of the front door and trekked down the front porch steps, along the foot path, and across the gravel drive towards the barn.

The first hour of every morning was spent there; milking the cow as well as tending to the horses and the feed troughs. This used to be his favourite time – sitting on one stool with Marigold on the other, each tending to a cow as she quietly sang them into the morning. No one was more of a morning person than Marigold. She always made waking up early easy. But Daniel now milked the sole cow in silence, sometimes letting a small whistle come to his lips in the process as he worked, a tune that would follow him back down the path to the farmhouse.

On the opposite side of the house from the gravel drive was a small hallway that held the laundry room and mud room and in there was where the two buckets of milk went first thing. Daniel would pour the fresh milk into glass jugs and bring them right into the kitchen, leaving them in the freezer to cool with a timer set for one hour. All his work was precise to the minute.

By then, the sun would be rising and his hands would be scrubbed and it would be just about 6:30 when Daniel would take the stairs back up to the second floor to wake Lennox. This morning was no different and, like usual, the small Jack Russel Terrier greeted him with a wagging tail when he opened the door. Daniel bent down to give him a quick scratch behind the ears before stepping into the blue-painted room and he pulled open the curtains.

“Morning, Spud.” Daniel called to his son who was waking from the light that had suddenly been let into his room.

Lennox rolled sleepily onto his back and rubbed his eye with his fist, the small dog jumping up to join him on his single bed like he hadn’t been by the boy’s side all night. Daniel stopped by the side of his son’s bed and pet a hand over his hair, watching his same blue eyes flutter open to look up at him.

“Morning, Daddy.” Lennox yawned.

Daniel smiled at his sweet son and nudged his cheek with his finger, “Up and at ‘em, buddy. The chickens are waiting for you.”

Lennox giggled lightly and sat himself up, watching as Daniel pulled out an outfit for his son and draped the pants and shirt onto the end of the bed.

“I’m going to shower. Eggs on the kitchen counter, okay?” Daniel reminded the seven-year-old like he did every morning.

Lennox only replied with, “Yes, Daddy.” and watched his father leave.

While Daniel hurried to shower in the masted bedroom ensuite, Lennox got himself dressed and hurried down the stairs to tend to his morning chore. The dog ran at his heels out the front door and around to the side of the house on the edge of the fence just before the barn where the chicken coop was built. He wished the chickens good morning and gathered the eggs from the nesting boxes in the small basket he carried with him.

By the time Lennox had collected the eggs and returned inside, Daniel had just finished his shower and was prepping breakfast in the kitchen with wet hair and fresh clothes to start the day. The two of them had a good routine down between farm work and getting ready for the day, and while Daniel cooked up the eggs, Lennox brushed his hair and washed his face and brushed his teeth for school. They ate together in the breakfast nook just off the kitchen with windows on three sides of them directed right to the rising sun and glasses of perfectly fresh milk to pair with their eggs, bacon, and fruit.

The school bus came for 7:45 and Daniel always walked Lennox down the long driveway of their property to wait with him at the road for the bus to come. When it stopped at the end of their driveway, Daniel hugged and kissed his son goodbye and watched him get on the bus with Jack’s daughter from the next farm over.

Daniel spent his days alone on the farm, tending to the animals and testing to see if the ground was ready to be ploughed. After lunch, he drove down to the general store to pick up a few things, greeting Corbyn behind the counter with a friendly hello.

“What can I get you?” Corbyn asked.

Daniel took off his hat and set it on the counter, “Bag of chicken feed and the order that I put in the other day, please.”

“Of course.” Corbyn disappeared into the back of the store to gather the order and Daniel waited at the counter. He scanned the ice cream freezer near by but stopped himself from ordering a cone.

“Daniel!”

He turned at the sound of his name being called above the ring of the bell above the door to face an older woman rushing down the soup aisle towards him.

“Thank goodness! I was hoping I wouldn’t have to come knocking on your door.” she said, slightly breathless in her rush and he held out a hand for her to hold onto as she calmed herself down. “My front step is broken again. My husband walks far too heavily and it snapped right down the center. Would it be too much trouble for you to come take a look?”

“Not at all, Lydia.” Daniel chuckled politely. “I’ll have Corbyn grab me a piece of plywood with my order and I’ll stop by.”

“Oh, you are an angel, Daniel.” the older woman sighed, clutching onto his hand thankfully. “I don’t want to trip myself up those blasted steps.”

“Of course not.” Daniel agreed.

“I’ll pay you for it this time-”

“Oh, no, that’s-”

“I insist, Daniel.”

“Lydia, you don’t need to pay me.” Daniel said strongly. “Maybe just bring another one of your delicious cherry cobblers to next weeks brunch, alright?”

“Oh,” she flushed bashfully, “I suppose.”

“Alright.” Daniel smiled, giving her hand a pat. “I’ll be over in as soon as I pay for this order.”

Daniel seemed to be known as the handyman of Lincoln as well as the best hockey coach; he had built the chicken coop in his backyard himself and fixed up their farmhouse porch within the first month they had moved to town. Now everyone seemed to appreciate his attention to detail and his generous offers to help fix a broken step or a leaky roof…and he never once accepted payment. Daniel’s days were filled with helping out around the town and tending to his land until Lennox would come home from school around 3:00. Lennox would tell Daniel about his day while Daniel finished up the day’s work and then they would head inside together to start dinner. While dinner was being made, Lennox did his homework with the dog sleeping under his chair, and once they ate – always at the dining room table like Marigold always insisted – it was time to get changed for hockey for 6:00.

Both hockey bags were stored in the laundry room and once they were changed into sweats and t-shirts, the boys each grabbed their own bag on the way out the door. They made sure they had filled water bottles and all their equipment in a hurry as they rushed down the path to Daniel’s old forest green pickup truck. It wasn’t a long drive to the community centre – Lincoln was a very tiny town after all – and once parked, they headed inside together. Daniel always made sure he was early since he was the coach. Lennox led the way down the single hallway of the community centre, hockey bag over his shoulder (and almost the same size has he was) with his good luck t-shirt he always wore tucked proudly over his small body.

‘Love and luck from my Mommy in heaven’ was printed in black font over the back and although it was originally made for him when he was six, Lennox insisted they made a new one for each season as he grew. It truly was his good luck charm and nothing made Daniel prouder than seeing his son still wanting to wear that shirt to every game.

“Hurry up, Dad!” Lennox called from the doorway of the change rooms, his young voice echoing down the near empty hallway.

The team room seemed to always have a lingering smell of sweat and ice that had accumulated over the last few decades but it smelt like home to the boys. Daniel and Lennox got changed into their jerseys and equipment and Daniel helped him lace up his skates and took off the skate guards from the blades before they were ready to go. By the time they were changed, the other junior boys had started to arrive to get changed and Daniel headed out to the rink with his keys to greet the few parents and set up for practice.

Lincoln Lightning uniforms consisted of white pants and jerseys with dark blue stripes and light blue accents and although the boys had to wear full padding and gear for practice, Daniel usually just wore skates and socks, pants, and his jersey. He helped himself to the supply room with his set of keys and grabbed a few extra sticks and the crate of pucks to bring over to the bench. A few parents always stayed back to watch the practice – mostly the mothers honestly – but Daniel never minded. Marigold always liked to watch her boy play too.

Once it hit 6:30, Daniel draped his whistle around his neck and called the boys onto the ice. Living in Lincoln for their whole lives, the boys were already very good on skates so weekly practices were just for game technique. With the whistle balanced between his lips, Daniel let his skates glide him backwards as he greeted his team,

“We’re practicing slapshots today. Or…shots in general. I know a few of you need a bit more practice with this.”

Daniel turned towards the one net set up at the end of the rink, showing off the dark blue print along the back of his jersey that read Seavey 99, and he pushed off towards the few pucks scattered over the ice. He moved gracefully and pulled his stick back to slap a perfect shot right into the goal net, the sharp sound of the stick hitting the ice echoing through the arena. The boys ‘wow’ed.

“We’re going to get you there, okay?” Daniel said as he skated back over to his team. “Do we all have our mouthguards in?”

There was a chorus of, “Yes, coach!”

“Lemmy see.”

The lineup of boys gave him big grins so he could see the thin curves of soft plastic between their teeth.

“Alright, good. Let’s see what you got. Get in two rows.”

Practice lasted an hour and by 7:30 the boys were huddled up for their last little pep talk before they were ushered back into the change rooms. Daniel stayed back on the ice to get a bit of his own practice in that was up to his skill level and by the time the few parents had left and complimented Daniel on his work, it was just Lennox and Daniel and Jonah’s boy left at the rink.

Daniel changed back into his sweats and t-shirt and packed his bag while the two boys waited on the bleachers and ran up and down the aisles together, playing. Daniel locked up the supply room and turned off the arena lights and herded the boys out into the cool spring evening air.

“So sorry I’m late.”

“No problem.” Daniel said honestly as Jocelyn hurried over from the parking lot. “I was just going to drive him home for you.”

“You’re far too kind.” Jocelyn chuckled, taking her son’s bag for him and then his hand. She looked back up to Daniel, “I called my family friend…she’s going to come down by the end of the week and she’ll stay with us for a few days…longer if you want to hire her of course.”

“Oh.” Daniel almost forgot about the offer for a gardener and he hiked his bag higher over his shoulder, “That’s great. Thank you.”

“Of course. I’m sure Jonah will shoot you a text when she’s settled and we can drop by.”

“Yeah, for sure.” Daniel agreed.

They said their good nights and Daniel watched them walk off to their car before looking back down to his son. With messy sweaty post-helmet hair, Lennox looked up at him through the dim light of the parking lot.

“Who’s she talking about?”

Daniel led him back to the truck and tossed their bags in the bed of the truck before helping him into the front seat, “I’m thinking of hiring someone to help around the farm.”

Lennox pondered his father’s statement as he waited for him to get in behind the wheel. When they started off towards home, the young boy answered, “Why?”

“It’s hard to take care of everything just me.” Daniel said.

“You already sold Spot and the sheeps and most of the chickens.” Lennox argued. “And you have me. I can help.”

“But you’re also in school…and you’re seven.”

“Almost eight, Dad.”

“Almost eight.” Daniel corrected himself. “But I need someone to help me take care of Mommy’s flowers.”

There was a silence that fell over the truck as they drove down the dark two laned road out of the main intersection and towards their farm. Lennox turned and looked out the window.

“What do you think?” Daniel asked after a moment.

“I don’t want someone to touch Mommy’s flowers.” Lennox answered softly.

“I know, Spud. I’m not crazy about the idea either…but we’ll lose the garden completely if we don’t have someone tending to it. That’ll be even worse.”

“I guess.” Lennox mumbled.

“I’m just going to meet her later this week and see…she’s a friend of Jocelyn and Jonah’s…she might not be a good fit anyway…I don’t know.”

“How do you know if it’s a good fit?” Lennox asked as they turned into their long driveway and up the dirt drive past the few trees lining the way.

Daniel took a deep breath as their farmhouse came into view, the porch light illuminating a few of the flowers that were starting to bud with the incoming spring, “I don’t know.”

He parked the truck and the boys got out and carried their bags right to the laundry room – a habit Marigold instilled in them to prevent the main house from stinking up. Daniel started the laundry while Lennox went up to bathe, leaving his sweats and his lucky shirt with his father to wash for their next practice. When laundry was started and the cat and dog were fed and Daniel got himself showered free of hockey sweat, the two Seavey boys cuddled up on the living room couch to watch some TV before bed. Lennox had a glass of milk and two cookies like every night and Daniel had his arm around him the whole time, feet kicked up on the coffee table and cat asleep on his lap.

When it was bedtime, Daniel made sure the dog was settled on his bed – with a snap of his fingers and a stern ‘lay down’ – and then he tucked in his boy under his quilt and brushed his damp hair from his face.

“Comfy?” Daniel asked quietly.

Lennox nodded up at him. Daniel leaned down to kiss his forehead and then switched off the bedside lamp.

Through the dark, Lennox spoke softly, “Daddy?”

“Yeah, Spud?”

“I want only Mommy to take care of her flowers.”

Daniel paused a moment, ignoring the pain that clutched his heart as he bent down to kiss his little boy again, “I know. So do I. But we’re going to keep her garden looking nice for her…so when she’s watching down on us, she can see that you and me are very good at keeping a nice house, right?”

“Right.” Lennox sniffled.

“Okay.” Daniel tucked him in snugly. “Sweet dreams. I love you, Spud.”

“Love you, Daddy.”

With his son put to bed, Daniel helped himself to the back porch, lingering by the railing by the light of the outdoor LEDs and overlooked the garden of green that turned into a blossoming overwhelming forest of colour every summer. It had been a little forgotten about the last year with Marigold having just passed so the garden was now in desperate need for some TLC. Daniel sighed and headed back inside to head to bed himself soon, only hoping everything would work out. He hoped Marigold was watching out for him.

Seasons Change Taglist: @stuffofseaveyy @randomlimelightxxx @jonahlovescoffee @hiya-its-amber @hopinglimelight @midnightpsychic @sbrewer21 @bessonsbxtch @viamiasoncrack @the-girl-who-cried-wolf @bessonbae

Please click the link in my bio to be added to the taglist!

#🌼#daniel seavey #why dont we #jack avery #corbyn besson #jonah marais #zach herron #wdw #wdw fanfic #why dont we fanfic #daniel seavey fanfic

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

Danger: Ruby - JUYEON

Only one part in this chapter!

Pairing: Juyeon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au

Triggers: death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 5.9k

Lesson 5: dreams can find their way into reality. And often, when they do, they mean something.

Previous: Obsidian >> Ruby >> Next: Onyx

TBZ Masterlist | Danger | Kingdom

[ Taglist will be in a reblog! Send a dm or an ask to be added! ]

Juyeon isn’t stupid. He knows there’ll be ivory soldiers patrolling the shrine when he gets there. Somin may be murderous, but she has a brain – a very big one at that – and thus knows how to be cautious. Of course she’d have people stationed to protect one of the most important pieces of her vicious plan.

But he didn’t expect this.

He ducks down with a curse. Kevin and Jacob follow suit. “Why are there so many?”

Neither Kevin nor Jacob replies, but the grim looks on their faces tell him they know the answer. Juyeon knows it, too. More soldiers here means either Somin’s been growing her army, or things are going better than expected at the front of the war so she has reserves to send back here.

Neither option bodes well for him.

“How are we supposed to get in?” Kevin mutters, peering around the hill at white pinpricks of guards on the otherwise green landscape. The scene reminds Juyeon of fluffy sheep on a pasture, just a lot more dangerous.

“I’ve been here once to see Changmin.” Jacob sits down. “If there’s a gap in the guards, I can create a door and shift us in.” A grimace slides across his face. “Kevin, you can’t come. Only royalty and those of magic blood can enter the shrine. Honestly, I’m already stretching it, since my magic rank is barely high enough to justify a visit.”

Kevin doesn’t look happy at all with that, but he nods. “I’ll stay as close as I can, then, in case anything goes wrong.”

“Right.” Jacob looks back at Juyeon. “I can’t perform magic inside this shrine. I’d have to create the door so that we shift right to the edge of the grounds, as close as I can get. If guards are around…”

“Well, they can’t follow us in.” Juyeon grimaces. “As long as they still respect the laws of the Board.”

Judging by the looks on his two friends’ faces, they have about as much hope for that as Juyeon does. The guards themselves might be good people, but soldiers are loyal to their kingdom, not necessarily to the Board’s balance (though usually, those two go hand in hand). If the queen gave them different orders, Juyeon and Jacob are screwed.

“Go at night,” Kevin decides. “It’ll be harder to see you then.”

Juyeon nods, looking up at the sky. It’s mid-afternoon, judging by the sun, which means they have a few hours before it’ll be safe enough to have a go. “We only have one shot,” he murmurs, eyes narrowing. “If one of us gets caught, even as we escape, they’ll just call reinforcements. And if there’s a mage, we’re in even bigger trouble.”

There shouldn’t be a mage. This shrine is traditionally the gray mage’s domain, and with Changmin dead without a designated successor, no one can take his place. Still, Juyeon wouldn’t put it past Somin to have put someone there anyway. After all, she killed him and a royal on the same soil. What’s a little more desecration of blessed land?

Jacob shakes his head. “I don’t sense any traces,” he says. “Granted, we’re a bit far away, but if there was a really powerful mage, I would’ve felt something, at least. There could still be one, but it isn’t likely they’d be a high mage or anything.”

“Why does Somin have some regard for certain rules but not others?” Kevin shakes his head. “She’ll kill people on the grounds, but she won’t send a mage to protect the place?”

Juyeon’s fists close around clumps of grass. He really doesn’t need to think about that now.

A snarl flashes across Jacob’s face before he frowns. “I don’t know. Anyway, our bigger problem is getting out. If we manage to get through the door and close it before anyone else can enter, they could ambush us when we try to leave.”

“So you need a diversion.” Kevin leans backward on his hands, staring at the sky. “What’s big enough to draw a chunk of guards away long enough for you to search the shrine?”

“If I knock out a few guards, do you think you have enough strength to pull them away?” Juyeon tries to joke.

Kevin gives him a look that’s enough to wither a tree.

“Understood, you definitely have the strength to do it. My deepest apologies.” Juyeon smirks, nudging Kevin with his shoulder. A grudging smile spreads across his friend’s face, but it quickly disappears, replaced with a thoughtful look.

“Hey, Jacob?”

The mage looks up. “Hm?”

“Is it considered desecration of the Board if I set fire to the grounds outside of the shrine?”

. . . . .

The plan is almost as bad as Sunwoo literally ripping the sapphire necklace off of Somin’s neck, but Kevin refuses to see it that way. In his words, “if Sunwoo could create a diversion by burning his hand, I can do it by burning some grass.”

Juyeon tries to remind him that Sunwoo didn’t actually burn his hand, whereas Kevin will actually be burning a hill. Kevin just waves him off. “Do you have any better ideas?”

Sadly, he doesn’t. Which is why he and Jacob are dressed in black and heading towards the shrine under the cover of night while Kevin brandishes a lighter somewhere far in the background. Hopefully far enough to not burn the shrine down.

Juyeon tries to console himself with the fact that Kevin knows more about fire than he does. He’s the one who makes their campfires and cooks if they have the means. He sometimes worked in the kitchens back home and handled the oven fires. He should know how to control flames. More or less.

(Juyeon isn’t very consoled.)

No Ivory heads turn as Juyeon steps quietly over the grass to one of the many trees surrounding the shrine and begins to hoist himself into the branches. After helping Jacob up, there’s nothing more either of them can do but wait for the signal.

Which is just the shouts of guards when they notice a hopefully large conflagration on a nearby hill.

It comes faster than Juyeon thought it would. The first yell is faint, but they slowly grow louder as more soldiers take note of the fire that even he can see in the hilltops. With bated breath, he waits as several ivory-clad guards peel off to investigate.

Jacob hisses softly. “Let’s go.”

It takes long, far too long in Juyeon’s mind, to jump down the tree and wait for Jacob to carve a door into the air. Heart beating wildly, he shifts from one foot to the other as the wooden slab finally shimmers into existence.

It looks familiar. Very familiar. Juyeon frowns, stepping through the door, then almost trips when it hits him.

“Juyeon?” Jacob raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

Breath shaky, Juyeon turns around to look at the back of the door. Pure white, a contrast to the dull brown wood of the front, wreathed in greenery.

Queens.

“This –” he swallows – “this is the same door I went through in my dream.”

“… Seriously?”

Juyeon nods. “Yeah.”

Jacob purses his lips, looking like he wants to ask more, but then he shakes his head. “Get over this fence. We need to hurry before Kevin’s fire dies.”

Risking a glance over his neck, Juyeon sees that the flames have gotten smaller since he last checked. One lighter can only do so much, even on green grass. Swearing, he hauls himself up the fence.

“Hey!”

Jacob curses for the first time in Juyeon’s life. It almost shocks him more than the soldier’s shout, but Jacob doesn’t give him time to process it before he hisses for Juyeon to hurry up and get inside. The bars dig into his hands but Juyeon finally flips himself over the top, landing on the shrine grounds with a thump. Jacob follows, albeit more gracefully.

“Pawns and kings,” Juyeon swears, getting up. One look over his shoulder through the slats of the fence tells him several Ivory soldiers are approaching. “Know any hiding places?”

“Follow me,” Jacob says before darting between two trees. They duck behind a few bushes, black clothes camouflaging them in the dark, waiting for the sounds of pursuers.

Nothing comes. The soldiers must be abiding by the laws, then.

Not that it matters. They just need to pick the right moment for an ambush, and when he and Jacob try to leave, they’ll be pinned.

Juyeon sighs. The things he’ll doing do for a stupid little red jewel. Like use a door from a dream to enter the shrine where one of his best friends was murdered in cold blood with his love.

Bile rises in Juyeon’s throat. He closes his eyes, breathes in, breathes out. The bile subsides.

Get in, find the jewel, get out. Juyeon breathes again, eyes still squeezed shut. He’s already done the first thing. Now he needs to find a ruby. The faster he finds it, the faster he can leave this place.

When he opens his eyes, Jacob is staring at him in concern. “Juyeon?”

“I’m fine,” Juyeon says, feeling not fine at all. “Any ideas where to look?”

Jacob looks unconvinced, but he stands anyway. “We need to pray first.”

“Pray?”

“Yes.” Jacob nods. “This is the most venerated shrine of the Board. You can’t just visit here and not pay your respects, especially as a royal of the Onyx Kingdom, not to mention its next king.”

For some reason, the thought of praying at the shrine that was supposed to be Changmin’s home, the same shrine where he was murdered with the former Ivory queen, makes Juyeon’s insides want to curdle.

It doesn’t make sense. He’s survived attacks by several mages, fought his way through multiple seemingly-impossible situations, watched one of his friends die and slit the throat of the man who killed him. Praying at a shrine is definitely not the hardest thing he’s done over the past few months.

Not physically, at least.

So he stands. Nods. His legs follow Jacob through the dark, weaving around bushes and trees and flowers that dot the shrine grounds until they reach the building of gray marble that gleams in the moonlight.

Jacob pushes through the door and walks inside. The stone slab stays open, waiting for Juyeon to take the next step.

He doesn’t. Instead, Juyeon’s feet glue themselves to the ground. Changmin’s insignia rests against his chest, stone cold and heavy as a lead weight.

For several moments, Juyeon stares into the dark depths of the shrine, the shadows of unlit torches just visible on the walls. Jacob’s silhouette shows too as he stops, realizing Juyeon isn’t right behind him. He turns back. “Juyeon?”

Juyeon shudders. The sound of his name echoes loudly, too loudly, unnaturally loudly between the marble walls. Vibrations race up his spine and more than ever, he wants to run. Just turn around and run.

But he can’t. As much as his brain screams for him to sprint away, away from this shrine and its cloud of death, he forces himself to breathe, just breathe.

You are fine. You will be fine. Find the jewel and leave.

You will be fine.

He steps into the shrine.

. . . . .

Juyeon almost wishes Jacob had left the shrine in darkness. Sure, the endless expanse of shadow was unnerving, but with the torches now flickering strange shadows across the gray floor, the urge to run is even greater than before.

But he forces himself to walk to the altar covered in dusty gray silk, to kneel on the cold marble floor. His hands fold mechanically in his lap as he bows his head in reverence. He closes his eyes.

Then he opens them again. What does he even pray for? His mind is such a mess, he knows there are so many things going wrong that he should pray to fix, but for some reason he can’t even fixate on a single one.

Next to him, Jacob’s eyes are already shut. His relaxed posture speaks of peace and calm, not the rigid fear and terror Juyeon feels just being in the same place where one of his best friends died.

Changmin was murdered here, murdered by an Ivory mage who decided her loyalty to the then-princess was more important than the higher orders. She was helped by a cowardly mage – maybe that isn’t fair, considering the queen was and still is holding his daughters over his head, but Juyeon doesn’t care right now – a high mage, a powerful mage who bound the former queen in promise with the gray mage and then didn’t hesitate to sever the physical ties of that promise by killing one half of the bond.

Anger boils in Juyeon’s stomach, and he latches onto it. Better anger than fear, anyway. At least anger brings warmth, fire, while fear only makes Juyeon feel colder than the stone floor.

One hand rises from his lap, clutches the gold king and queen resting against his chest. Why is this shrine so holy? Why is it so venerated that no one can practice magic here? What’s the point of that, when its last protector was murdered because of the stupid rule? Magic isn’t the only way to kill a person –Juyeon would know, considering he’s slit a throat before – and if Changmin had been able to use his magic, he might’ve fought off the two mages, might’ve resisted the magic-binding chains Bom forced onto his arms, might’ve survived.

A tiny, choked sound rips from Juyeon’s throat. He glances at Jacob to see if the mage noticed, but his eyes are still shut in reverent calm, still the essence of serene tranquility.

Watching Jacob, watching the mage lower his head in quiet prayer, drains the fight out of Juyeon. He slumps over, face now in his hands, as he tries to stop the tears beginning to well at the corners of his eyes. The insignia bounces against his chest, slightly warmer from the heat of his fingers, but still too cold to feel comforting.

Changmin. Juyeon’s hands slide down his face, come to his lap and clench into fists as he fights to breathe. Changmin, I wish you were here.

Then it isn’t just Changmin. It’s Kevin, it’s Sunwoo, it’s his sister and mother and father whom he wishes were here. He wants Changmin’s doe eyes and Kevin’s boxy smile, Sunwoo’s sarcasm and his sister’s warmth. He wants his mother’s lips pressing gently to the top of his head as she whispers goodnight to her sweet prince, wants his father’s hands holding his shoulders proudly as he reiterates once more how proud he is of his son.

He wants it. He wants it so badly it hurts –

“Juyeon?”

Queens.

There’s no point in trying to wipe his tears when Jacob’s already seen him crying, but Juyeon tries anyway. “I’m fine,” he says, even though the voice crack gives everything away. “I’m –”

But Jacob isn’t listening, is unfolding from his perfect posture to drag Juyeon over into a hug. For a moment, he stiffens, but then he sinks into Jacob’s warm arms that can’t quite make up for the warmth of all those people he wishes were with him too, but they’re a decent substitute, nonetheless.

Jacob doesn’t ask, doesn’t say anything as Juyeon silently cries into his shoulder. Juyeon thinks the mage probably knows what he’s feeling, if the few tears dripping onto his own clothes are anything to go by. For several minutes, they just stay there, pressed against each other in front of the altar.

“Sorry,” Juyeon sniffles when he finally feels stable enough to pull away. “I’m – I should’ve been praying, but –”

“I understand.” Jacob smiles, though sadly. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Knowing this was where… where he was killed?”

Juyeon doesn’t need to ask which “he” Jacob is talking about. Instead, he just nods. “I just – I don’t know what to pray about, there are so many things but I can’t think of even one because I just feel so – I want to pray for Changmin and Sunwoo to come back but that isn’t possible –”

A hand on Juyeon’s shoulder stops the rambling. Jacob’s gentle eyes stare into his. “Juyeon. Breathe.”

He takes a breath. Does it again. The second time, it isn’t so shaky.

“Okay. Now.” Jacob squeezes Juyeon’s shoulder slightly. “You may not be able to bring Changmin and Sunwoo back, but you can pray for their souls. Pray for their peace, pray for their well-being even in death. That a good place to start?”

With every word that comes out of Jacob’s mouth, Juyeon feels a tiny part of himself relaxing, bit by bit. He nods. “Okay.”

“Go from there.” Jacob smiles encouragingly. “Just breathe, Juyeon. You’re all right.”

You’re all right.

Juyeon takes a deep breath, feeling calmer. “Thanks, Jacob. I’m sorry.”

“No need.” Sorrow flashes in Jacob’s eyes, lit by the flickering firelight. “I understand. Take your time. The Board… it’ll understand.”

With a shuddering sigh, Juyeon turns back to the altar, folds his hands on his knees. Closing his eyes, he lets the traditional words begin to float through his brain.

I revere the higher orders of the Board and beseech them to answer my prayer, loyal servant to the balance that I am. I pray for the departed souls of Ji Changmin, Kim Sunwoo, and my parents, that they find peace in the plane beyond my own. I pray for the souls of those still with me, my sister Lee Jisoo, Kevin Moon, Jacob Bae.

Maybe Juyeon’s just imagining it, but Changmin’s insignia seems to grow warmer against his chest.

I pray that we will finish our mission with no more deaths. I pray that this war will end, that Jeon Somin will be defeated, that balance will be restored once more.

Definitely warmer. Juyeon takes comfort in the spot of heat on his skin, bowing his head further as he sends one last prayer to anyone listening above.

I pray that I have the strength to carry out your will.

. . . . .

There’s nothing in the shrine, nothing remotely red or gem-like. Juyeon’s almost grateful. At least he doesn’t need to spend another minute longer in the gray-walled building.

It would’ve been more helpful if he could’ve found the ruby, though.

Looking through the living quarters doesn’t reveal anything either, though to be completely honest, that could just be Juyeon’s fault for not looking carefully enough. These were the rooms where Changmin lived, where he was supposed to have been safe. Instead, he was forced to try and escape from his own home.

And, apparently, this was the place where the queen was killed. Not outside in the garden, like Changmin, but right here.

The blood is gone. Taemin probably had someone clean it, or he did it himself. Juyeon wouldn’t have been able to tell that someone was murdered here if the high mage hadn’t told him where he found the bodies. But the uncertainty makes things worse, really, because everywhere Juyeon steps, he doesn’t know if he’s walking on the stones where the former Ivory queen, one of his good friends, was killed by someone they both trusted.

No jewels. Nothing in the walls, nothing beneath the stone floors. Jacob can’t sense any magic, which doesn’t make sense – shouldn’t there be a strong magic trace coming from the ruby, even if he can’t pinpoint who created the trace?

Jacob shakes his head, his mouth thinned into a line. “They could have put a cloaking spell on it,” he says, looking around fruitlessly one more time. “These mages are more powerful than I am. They could’ve made it so that I’d have a much harder time sensing it than if I’d created the spell myself.”

They look through the living space again, then the prayer area. Still nothing. So they walk back outside into the gardens.

A soft breeze hits Juyeon’s skin the moment he steps onto the grass. Despite the fact that they still haven’t found the ruby, he finds himself relaxing in the presence of the cool air. Under the bright moonlight, surrounded by greenery, Juyeon feels a little bit more at peace.

Then he remembers that Changmin was killed in this very same garden and the tranquility disappears.

Stepping carefully, Juyeon walks through the grass, trying not to start at every random shadow that passes under the pale moonlight. His eyes carefully scan the overgrown flower bushes and trees, looking hopelessly for a glint of red under the stars.

A sense of déjà vu comes over him as he rounds a corner of the shrine. He’s seen some of this before, that particular tree, that stack of stones, that rosebush just next to the gray building. His feet slowly grind to a halt as he turns in a circle, eyes furrowed.

How does he know this place if he’s never been here before?

Lost in confusion, a rock on the ground knocks him off balance and Juyeon trips, falling to his knees. Scowling in embarrassment, he starts to stand.

Moonlight glints down from the sky in his periphery. And suddenly Juyeon knows.

Changmin saw that pile of stones when he was in this position with arms chained behind him, saw the trees lining the edge of the gardens as he knelt on soft grass, waiting for a blade to strike down and take his life. He saw the roses, saw a little ray of moonlight out of the corner of his eyes as gold burned and metal flashed and pain buried itself in the back of his neck.

This was where he died.

Juyeon can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. Can’t –

Scrambling to stand, he glances to his left. Moonlight shines on a smear of something dried and black. Against his will, Juyeon looks closer.

Pawns and kings.

That’s –

That’s blood –

Changmin’s blood –

Juyeon falls to his knees again and throws up on the grass.

For how long he sits there, gasping, not even trying to clean the sick off the corners of his mouth, Juyeon doesn’t know. At some point, though, he becomes aware of Jacob kneeling in front of him, wiping his lips with a piece of cloth torn from his shirt.

His cheeks are wet. Juyeon blinks, feeling dampness at the corner of his eyes. When did he start crying?

Jacob’s voice brings him out of his daze. He blinks again, trying hard to focus on the mage in front of him. “What?”

“I was just asking what happened.” Jacob finishes wiping his lips, letting the dirty piece of cloth flutter to the ground. “I was up ahead, and then I just heard you and… yeah.”

Bile rises again in Juyeon’s throat, but he forces the stinging sensation down. “I –” His voice cracks. “I remember here. Changmin died here. And –” he points to his side, refusing to look with his eyes – “I saw his… his blood.”

A soft gasp sounds. “Queens.”

Juyeon swallows with difficulty, nearly retching again between the disgusting taste in his mouth and the lump in his throat. He stares resolutely to his right, at the huge bush of red roses planted against the gray shrine. It’s probably about as tall as his chest, maybe even his neck.

Irrational anger rises in Juyeon’s chest. This was the last thing Changmin saw, these red roses in full bloom. Juyeon fights the urge to rip all the flowers off of their stems, to make the plant pay for Changmin’s pain –

A glint of shiny red sparkles between several green leaves as they blow in the breeze.

Juyeon stills. “Jacob.”

The mage turns around, looking very pale. “Hm?”

“Tell me I’m not hallucinating something red in that rose bush right here.”

Jacob furrows his eyebrows. “Juyeon, they’re red roses.”

“No, something else.” Juyeon swallows. ��Like a jewel.”

Looking unconvinced, Jacob gets up and walks closer to the bush. Carefully, he moves a few leaves to the side, then gasps. “It’s all the way in the middle,” he murmurs, turning around. “How…?”

Juyeon stands on shaky legs, steps over to where Jacob is. Shiny red sparkles in the pale moonlight, hidden partially by dark green stems and even darker petals. If it was any other flower bush, Juyeon would already be ripping through the branches, but the thorns prevent him from that easy course of action. Besides, this bush is gigantic. Standing up, Juyeon can now confirm the tallest branches reach the base of his throat.

A very, very bad idea springs into his mind, almost as bad as Kevin setting fire to a hill. “Jacob, give me your cloak.”

Confused, Jacob hesitates from handing over the heavy red cloth. “Why –”

Juyeon plucks the cloak from his hands and wraps it around his exposed neck. Then, before Jacob can say anything more, he draws the sword at his side and starts cutting through the bush.

Thorns rip through his flesh, tearing his clothing and scraping across his skin. Juyeon grits his teeth as Jacob cries out in the background, still hacking branches away. Leaves and red petals fall around him, thorns embedding themselves in his arms and legs, but Juyeon doesn’t stop until he’s cut through to the center of the bush.

There, nestled between the petals of several deep red roses, the ruby lies, glittering in the moonlight. Juyeon reaches out one blood-covered hand, the other holding thorny branches out of his eyes, and closes his fingers around the jewel.

Dragging himself out of the bush is almost more torturous than cutting through, but finally, Juyeon bursts into blessed open space, staggering into Jacob’s arms as he pulls free of the last thorns. Dimly, he hears Jacob cursing and unwrapping the cloak from Juyeon’s neck, trying to staunch the blood on his skin, but Juyeon waves him off. “We need to go. Now.”

Because if Juyeon stays in this cursed shrine for a single second longer, he’s going to do something much worse than vomit on the grass.

It takes long, too long for them to find a space along the fence with fewer soldiers than the rest. Skin still stinging from all of the thorn cuts, Juyeon ignores the shouts of surprise as he climbs up and leaps from the fence. Arms and legs moving on autopilot, he makes quick work of the two guards there as Jacob crashes down beside him, hands already moving to fashion the door. He drags Juyeon through just as several white figures begin to flash at the corners of his vision.

On a separate green hill, not the one blackened by fire, Kevin stares as Juyeon emerges from the door, blood dripping down his body. “What the –”

“No time.” Jacob quickly disappears the door before anyone unwanted makes it through. “Where are we going next?”

“Forest,” Juyeon wheezes. Queens, the pain just gets worse with every second. “Decide after that.”

Another door appears, thankfully dark wood this time and not plain or white like the one from his dream, and Kevin helps Juyeon through as shouts begin to sound around the group of hills. Jacob follows as Juyeon nearly collapses onto lush grass, red beginning to bleed over green.

“Pawns and kings,” Kevin swears, rolling Juyeon over. “Juyeon, what happened?”

Juyeon stays silent, letting Jacob explain everything as Kevin digs thorns out of his skin and cleans the scrapes. By the end of the story, Kevin has mostly bandaged Juyeon’s entire body up – somehow, a few thorns even got into his chest, what in the name of the Board and all that is holy – and he looks ready to commit murder.

Well, maybe not murder. But the angry exasperation in his expression doesn’t look very friendly when he turns to stare Juyeon in the eye.

“You, Lee Juyeon, Crown Prince of the Onyx Kingdom, are an idiot,” he pronounces. “The biggest idiot of our group.”

A small, sheepish smile flits across Juyeon’s face. “Sorry?”

“Queens, just shut up.” Kevin groans, turning away. “You try to stop me from burning a hill and then go and do this…” He shakes his head. “Go to sleep. I’ll deal with you in the morning.”

Jacob raises an eyebrow. “Since when did Kevin become our caretaker?”

“Since you couldn’t stop Juyeon from bloodying himself on a rose bush,” Kevin snaps. “Now go to sleep unless you plan on taking first watch.”

“Which watch do I take?” Juyeon asks.

The expressions he gets from Kevin and Jacob are one and the same. “You think you’re going to take a watch?” Kevin snorts. “Good luck with that. No, you’re out for the night.”

And there’s no arguing with that, not when Kevin has that face on. So Juyeon accepts the thin blanket Jacob throws over him, rolls over, and shuts his eyes against the stinging pain all over his body.

. . . . .

Juyeon opens his eyes to the same foggy pathway that’s become unwelcomingly familiar over the past few months. He wants to sigh when he sees his feet wreathed in smoky white on a stone floor, but his dream self doesn’t obey, only stares forward at the wooden door.

It’s definitely the same door Jacob conjured to enter the shrine. Bile would rise in his throat at the thought, but throwing up doesn’t happen in his dream. Instead, he begins walking forward, wincing as black silk brushes against the fresh cuts from his time at the shrine.

Wait.

Juyeon actually commands himself to stop, rolling up a sleeve to confirm the existence of the rose thorn scrapes. Sure enough, they’re there.

Weird. His injuries don’t usually come with him into dream world. Uneasiness pools in his stomach, but he begins to move forward anyway. Then he stops again, just as his hand reaches out to the door handle.

Changmin isn’t here. He hasn’t appeared, hasn’t passed Juyeon the insignia that forces him to relive the gray mage’s last moments over and over and over again.

Juyeon really wants to stop then, wants to sink to his knees and beg the higher orders for an explanation of this strange variation of an unfriendly dream. With all of the others, there was a script he would follow – Changmin, shrine, door, path, roses, you. It was nauseating, but at least it was predictable.

Now, as Juyeon turns the handle, he has no idea what will meet him behind the slab of wood.

The door opens. Juyeon steps through the frame onto a familiar stone path lined with rose bushes.

Castling queens. If there was one thing the dream took out, why couldn’t it be the flowers? Juyeon would choose to see his dead friend over a jewel-toned rose any day, especially in this dream.

But dream Juyeon doesn’t care about that, just starts walking forward. Each step stings his skin even more – there may not be cuts on his feet, but ever brush of his clothes against his arms and legs makes Juyeon want to cry – but he keeps going, keeps following the stone path.

There are no shades. No one offers him flowers. He doesn’t even pick them himself. The familiar sensation of dread that usually accompanies his inability to find a red rose doesn’t rise in his stomach, doesn’t force tears from his eyes at the unfairness of it all. Instead, once he reaches the silver tree, his legs buckle and he collapses to his knees.

Heart beating wildly, Juyeon bows his head as though he’s saying prayer at an altar, the way he did just hours ago in the gray mage’s shrine. Only this time, there’s no marble surface covered in dusty gray silk. Just a silver tree with silver leaves that glitter in the moonlight.

What is he waiting for? Why is he here? Juyeon tries to think but he can’t, not through the endless burning of slashes and scrapes all over his skin. In fact, the pain seems to have increased since he first opened the door, the stinging multiplying second by second as blood begins to trickle down his skin in rivulets, sticking to his clothes and marring the stone floor with drops of red –

Then a door opens behind the tree, a white door wrapped in green vines and leaves visible just between the silver branches. A familiar figure emerges, cloaked as always in darkness.

Through his eyelashes, Juyeon watches you step around the tree, coming to a rest in front of his kneeling body. Your feet step onto drops of his blood, but you don’t seem to care. In one hand, you carry a rose, a dark red one with petals that look like silk.

If Juyeon didn’t know better, he’d think it was one of the roses that housed the ruby back at the shrine.

A movement out of the corner of his eye jerks Juyeon out of his musings. Your hand comes into his line of vision. Touches his chin. Tilts it up.

Juyeon gasps as his head rises, expecting your fingers to be cold. They’re warm, though, inexplicably warm, sending a rush down his spine. His eyes flutter shut as he tries to lean into your touch, but your hand pulls away almost immediately.

Fighting the urge to whine like a child, Juyeon stays still, trying to catch a glimpse of your face. It stays wrapped in shadow, however, and despite the fact that from this position he should be able to see you, his dream prevents it.

Frustration rises in his chest, mixing with the pain of his rose thorn cuts, and Juyeon almost releases the cry of annoyance building in his throat before your warm palm presses against his forehead.

Pain.

Absolute, blinding pain rips a scream from his throat as your palm stays firmly glued to his skin. It hurts so much, stings so much as blood courses down his skin in sticky red rivers, filling his nose with its iron tang and overwhelming every one of his senses with just how much there is, queens, he never knew his body held this much blood, never guessed that he could feel so much pain, never realized he could lose this much blood without dying –

And then it’s gone. Completely. The pain disappears as quickly as it came, your palm now pleasantly cool against his sweating skin.

Juyeon gasps as your fingers leaves his forehead, falling forward until he’s half-collapsed in a pool of his own blood. Disgusted, Juyeon goes to rip his himself away, but then the blood fades away without a trace.

Wide-eyed, Juyeon whirls around. All of the sticky red droplets have disappeared from the stone path. The only sign of his previous wounds lies in the blood crusted on his skin, but the cuts have disappeared. All of them.

Whipping back forward, Juyeon scrambles to his feet as you open the door behind the silver tree, presumably to make your exit. He reaches out an arm to hold you back, to see your face, to try and figure out who his mysterious savior is, but at the same time, he knows it’ll be useless. You’re already half-gone, stepping through the white door.

But at the last second, your head turns back. And Juyeon catches a glimpse of the side of your face, your cheek, your chin, one glittering eye –

Then he wakes up, gasping under green treetops just visible in the gray morning light.

It doesn’t take him long to realize all of his pain is gone.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for juyeon poor boy’s gone through a lot :/)

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myblueeyedbuggers · 3 years

Text

My Boys

Chapter 13

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 14

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader (Best Friend) Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 2063

Warnings: Swearing, bit of violence if you looking very closely

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

Ey up my Loves, so we’re back and kicking ass! Quite literally in this Chapter, I’ve been going back over my previous chapters and I’m considering rewriting them to fit my new style. Let me know what you all think, do you prefer them as they are or would you want them to match my new style ? Anyways without further ado here's chapter 13, enjoy everyone! <3

3rd person POV

Years have passed since that moment, time brought changes to the trio, what was once a childhood crush developed into a fierce love that neither of the pair wanted to acknowledge or admit in fear of loosing the other.

As you can imagine both Steve and Becca were ready to rip the heads off of their dumbass siblings.

6 years is a verrrry long time to put up with long looks of pining and repressed feelings, but unfortunately for the Brooklyn natives, y/n and bucky were about as stubborn as each other and refused to listen to the reasonable, sometimes frustrated, rants of their best friends. So much to the utter frustration of Steve and Becca, the two young lovebirds lived in a state of denial and attempted (the keyword being ATTEMPTED) to move on with their lives.

Naturally, someone as charming and handsome as James Barnes seemed to have a never-ending line of girls begging to be his, it had become a common occurrence for him to have a new girl on his arm each week, not that Steve or Y/n approved of his behaviour but hey Bucky can be a real big dumbass when he wants to be. Y/n did try to hide how much it bothered her, thankfully not only was Bucky a dumbass he was also completely unaware of her feelings and simply chalked it down to her being the unapproving sister, but to Steve it was a clear as day. He could see it in her face every time Bucky left to take the new girl dancing, or when she’d finish work early only to see Buck and his new girl on a romantic date in the Café opposite the dinner she worked at. The bright light behind her eyes always dimmed a little and she wouldn’t talk for hours, which for anyone that didn’t know her was enough to ring an ambulance and arrange a mental evaluation.

Now that’s not to say that Bucky was any better, the look of absolute utter rage that covered his face when another man called for Y/n was enough to make Steve and Becca completely loose it and simply laugh at his misery, neither of them felt bad because they’d been telling him for YEARS to man up and confess his feelings. Occasionally the pair did feel a slight twinge of guilt towards their brother, like the time the trio went to Y/n’s house to surprise her after work, only to see her kissing the cheek of a guy they’d never seen before, just like his other half Bucky did try to hide it, but the flash of pain that crossed his face was impossible to miss.

It’d gotten to the point where Steve wanted to lock em both in a closet til they finally admitted their feelings and put themselves out of their misery, though the fact that he had all the physical stats of a toothpick quickly nipped that idea in the bud.

Cut to today, for once it looked like it’d be a fairly normal day for everyone, boys were off doing god knows what, knowing those two it’d involve a punch up started by a small blonde idiot and finished by an even bigger idiot of a brunette. Though the same couldn’t be said about their girl, ever the more responsible one of them all Y/n had agreed to work overtime in the local dinner over on main street, meaning that she’d be the one closing the place down at 9pm.

Y/n didn’t even wanna think about what her two idiots would get up without proper adult supervision, though over the years she’d learned to expect that it would more than likely be something illegal.

Thankfully, it wasn’t something she had to worry about for the next couple of hours, though 9 times out of ten she’d be the one cleaning up the cuts and bruises only for them to come back the next day fresh wounds. As much as it did on occasion piss her off to no ends, Y/n wouldn’t want it any other way, they were and always will be her boys.

Y/N’s POV

Well, that was an absolute shit show of a day.

I mean you’d of thought that I was common knowledge not to put ya hands up a waitresses skirt, but nay some men didn’t seem to have got that memo, ever the public servant I made it my job to enlighten then with a hot cup of coffee to the crotch. How I’ve not received employee of the month is beyond me, what’s not to love ? I’m a fucking delight!

Thank god it’s home time, if I’da stayed in that place any longer something would of happened, knowing my crazy ass it’d of been something violent but in my defence….okay I don’t have a defence, but men can seriously suck ass when they wanna. All I wanna do is have a peaceful walk home, ignore the homeless guys that like to gawp at my ass and run a big old bubble bath whilst relaxing with a decent book.

Naturally, that didn’t happen.

Now, If ya spend as much time around a bunch of over aggressive monkeys that love jumping into fights as much as I do, you’ll probably get real good at recognising the sounds of a fight. And I’ve got a pretty good idea who the two dipshits are that started this pissing contest.

The sounds of shoes scuffling across the pavement were pretty much impossible to miss now, that along with the grunts and groans of a bunch of guys smacking the absolute shit outta each other tipped me off to what was happening around the corner. Everything in me screamed to carry on my merry way and let these morons sort out whatever beef they had in peace and believe me I was so close to ignoring it and walking past em, but it’s kinda hard to do that when ya hear ya best mate scream “come at me motherfuckers!”.

I couldn’t help the frustrated sigh that came outta my mouth but come on guys! This is the 5th one this week!

Very reluctantly I doubled back and went to help my idiotic boys out of whatever trouble they managed to get em selves into, and boy I’m glad that I did cause they were losing. Badly. It would seem that Steve’s request was met for them to “come at” him, cause one of em had him by the arms and was pummelling the life out of his small body, and Bucky wasn’t having any better luck either. Buck was in the same situation, but he had the pleasure of two guys restraining his arms whilst another two took turns in kicking him in the stomach, I mean I was already pissed off at what was happening to Steve but now, I’m beyond pissed and IF I’d of taken the time to calm down for a few seconds I’da thought of a better plan than this.

“Man…I really liked these shoes”.

In my defence, I didn’t mean to throw them as hard as I did, I was hoping to distract them for a couple of seconds so I could get the jump on the guy beating the crap outta Steve, instead I hit him square in the back his head and knocked him the fuck out. Any other time I’da been wetting myself laughing, but instead it seemed like time slowed down as the assholes holding Steve up froze and made eye contact with me, even the guys on Bucky stopped to see what had happened, all four of em had a look of complete and utter disbelief when they finally saw me. Not that I really cared, all I wanted was for em to get the fuck off of my boys.

Nobody seemed to wanna say anything for the next couple of seconds, the assholes beating up Bucky and Steve were still trying to wrap their heads around what just happened, and my idiots were looking back and forth between the guy on the floor and me, not even taking the time to try escape their holds. How the hell they manage to survive all these years without me is beyond my understanding.

“Sup my dudes, my names Y/n and I’ll be kicking ya ass today”.

I think it’s safe to say that I snapped everyone out of their shocked states, cause the guys holding both Steve and Bucky dropped their asses to the ground and instead focus on me, which is pretty fair considering I did just knock their mate out with a 2-inch healed shoe.

“Do ya know what we do to girls that don’t know their place round here? Cause ya about to find out girly” why is it always the ugliest motherfuckers that try to act tough, I mean look at this guy! he’s got more stains on his shirt than he does teeth, and about as much hair as a furless cat, I’ve been more intimidated by a group of 12-year-old girls in the dinner than I have him!...teenagers are fucking scary don’t judge me.

Right back to this absolute shitshow of a ‘fight’.

Mr ‘I’m only 30 years old and I already need dentures’ swung his arm out towards me in a pathetic attempt at a punch, which massively backfired on him cause I threw that dumbass over my shoulder and ‘accidently’ knocked his last 4 teeth out. That left me with the rest of the hounds, two of em were rushing at me the second I let go of their newly toothless friend, the one on my right missed me completely and fell over a fence, dumbass. The dude on my left though, well he didn’t miss I’ll put it that way, he fully rugby tackled me into the car behind me, knocking the wind outta me and leaving me dazed for a few seconds.

But just like the first guy, his ‘punches’ were about effective as a marshmallow. Pretty embarrassing for him really, I mean you hate to see it.

“Okay no, give me your hand I’m gonna teach you how to punch cause this is just embarrassing for you dude, first don’t put your thumb at the bottom cause ya gonna break it, second don’t just throw ya arm forward and hope it hurts, use your body weight cause ya got a lot of it and throw it into the punch.”

At that point I’d pushed him off me and the car, his form was absolutely terrible so I went ahead and corrected it for him, found out his name was Eric, which was pretty interesting, gave him a few practise shots and then let him hit me for real, and I must be a fucking amazing teacher cause that one hurt!

“Really Doll?”

Let me tell you, I’d never seen Bucky so unimpressed in my life, his face was completely deadpanned with only his eyebrows raised, Steve wasn’t too impressed either, his infamous mum glare was in full force as I sheepishly backed away from my new best friend.

“In my defence, you left me unsupervised, and Eric’s form was absolutely atrocious, wasn’t it Eric my lad ?”

“….She’s a pretty good teacher to be fair”.

“See? I’m a good teacher! Suck it Barnes!”

Bucky Knocked Eric the fuck out in response. I think you can all understand how heartbroken I was.

“What the hell Barnes?! If it weren’t for me you and Steve would be dead!” I’m pretty sure I looked as insane as I was acting, Steve was full on laughing his ass off behind Buck, I mean if I weren’t so annoyed by them both right now I’d be on the floor with him just dying of laughter. But nay, I had a bone to pick with the both of them, which I think they both realised considering they both went pale before turning around and bucking it to my house. What you need to remember is that these are fully gown men, running around a Brooklyn neighbourhood screaming bloody murder, with a much smaller y/h/c lass running right behind them brandishing a pair of heels, fully intending to murder them both.

How we’ve gone all these years without being arrested or locked in a mental asylum astounds me.

So hopefully you all enjoyed this, let me know what you all think, we’ve got about 2 more chapters left of my boys then we move onto Captain America the First Avenger!!

lots of love

Rose xx

#winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #captain america x reader #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #mcu #fanfic #reader #reader insert #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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ayoalex · 3 years

Text

Why is Team RWBY since the beginning present as a dangerous team?

Ok, before I begin this post I have to warn that:

1- I'm not an expert, this is based on my basic knowledge as someone that used to do martial arts as a kid, play a lot of video games and watch a bunch of anime/cartoon or read manga

2- This is going to be a long post, sorry 😞

3- You are always welcome to discuss in the replies or to correct in whatever I could get wrong, again I'm not an expert so don't be shy to call me out. Btw, English is not my first language so it's possible I could have some grammar mistakes.

4- Do not want to see any type of hate for any character 🤨

5- And last, decided to post this here because I prefer RWBY Tumblr community than Reddit one 💀

Let's begin!

When they present RWBY at the beginning of the project we got a glimpse of what they can do individually in the short films know as Red, White, Black and Yellow as well as some aspects of their character, backstory, etc.

As RWBY continued their journey we could see they seem as a force to be reckoned with when together but seem to be lacking in some aspects when they were alone.

The ones that didn't do better alone was mostly Ruby and Weiss while Blake and Yang seems to be able to hold their own alone (tho Blake seems to be in her flop era in the last volumes 💀).

So, let's talk about them as individual first.

Ruby: we all know her, leader of the team and the youngest of them all.

Ruby do pretty well alone when she's fighting Grimms, specially those that aren't that hard to go against. She's basically a prodigy and for that she got into Beacon earlier (and the fact she has silver eyes 😬).

She's the few people in Remnant that use a scythe as a weapon and she's pretty damn good with it; as told by a lot of character using that weapon is hard af so probs for her to be able to be so fucking smooth and amazing with Crescent Rose.

As told by Ruby herself in V1 while talking with Jaune, she did her weapon and here comes her first problem.

Not practical. Crescent Rose is a bad ass weapon and I absolutely love it but it's heavy and takes a lot to use it. It's a rifle as well so Ruby basically has to be a sniper to be able to go well with it.

It's a weapon that doesn't goes well with a team as can get in the way unless the user becomes a support for the team instead of being at front.

This is basically a metaphor of how Ruby is kinda a lone wolf at the beginning and awkward af with people.

But! She later gives some upgrades to Crescent Rose that helps her change the direction of scythe which give her adaptability! Which is completely important!

Now, if I take Crescent Rose away of Ruby what happens?

She's dead bro

Ruby is useless in close range combat, specifically physically one. We can see that in a lot of moments through the volumes.

She usually use her semblance as an advantage, which with her weapon works perfectly but without it is... Meh. It only helps her to speed up.

In Volume 5 Ozpin calls her out for that and then trains her, we then see Ruby being able to actually block and evade attacks without the use of her semblance... Until Ozpin took control of Oscar 💀

She knows basic stuffs, mostly with her defense but she lacks attack.

We don't actively see an improvement of this part in the future as she's seen to struggle keeping up with Harriet. Tho I'm going to give Ruby the fact that Harriet was being emotional and "aaahhh go crazy go stupid" In there.

Tho, Ruby lacks in this she make up by being a quick thinker and strategic.

She's the one that comes up with the plans and she's fast on her feet as well, she knows how to use her teammates perfectly to the point on coming up with duo attacks for them. She use her creativity to be able to defeat enemies as we can see at the end of V6 against the crazy old lady.

In general Ruby lacks close range fighting skills as well hand to hand combat + she can be really reckless and not actually think stuffs through it at first which can lead to disaster (she's getting better tho!)

Weiss: so... Oh boy, the ice queen comes next.

Her first actual win in a solo combat was Marrow if I remember correctly.

So here's the thing, as a solo fighter Weiss is the weakest link because she relies heavily in her semblance, get her someone that can break her aura fast and that's it, she loses.

But her semblance is really REALLY good.

Like she could stand in one place, do her thing and that's it but there's a thing... Weiss is too logical and sometimes narrow minded, her winning against Marrow was amazing and made me proud because she used EVERYTHING in that damn room to her favor. She was creative!

For her type of semblance that's important!

At the beginning she was too STIFF with her semblance but it got to the point where she has learned to be fast on her feet. Use her semblance in a better, creative way AND be a support in the team.

But now, without her semblance Weiss is a good fighter, being a mix of ballet with fencing/swordplay. Really pretty to see and then take off the damn weapon and she's pretty useless.

See a pattern here? Team Whiterose are completely useless without their weapons and semblance, mmmm

Overall Weiss is a freaking monster thanks to her semblance. She has gotten better to it, to control it and stuff, became more creative and less stiff as well as quick thinker but she needs to get better in hand to hand combat... Please, I'm begging.

Blake: ah yeah, our favorite emo cat girl.

So, Blake is crazy. That's it, that's everything I'm going to say about her.

Ok no, but seriously her fighting style is chef kiss

Blake use of her semblance is amazing, like this girl knows what she's doing when fighting.

Her weapons are great as well, like they are sword, a gun, then that freaking ribbon where she goes all Spiderman with everyone. Amazing!

Tho, she comes with an advantage that no other in her team has.

As explained by different characters in the series, Faunus has physical advantage over humans, not only some of them can see in the dark, but they seem to get some characteristics of the animal they are based off.

A good example is how agile Velvet is thanks to the fact she's a rabbit faunus or the way Sun jumps because of being a monkey faunus.

Blake being a cat faunus gives her ton of advantage, she's stealthy, agile, fast, listen better than the average human, etc

Combine that with her semblance, weapon and fighting style and you have an amazing fighter.

But Blake is reckless and that have cost her in the past. Not only that but while she seems to know only basic stuff in hand to hand combat, relies a lot in her semblance and lately she use her ribbon way too much.

That gives an opportunity to the enemy to take her out easily as we saw in her fight against Vine.

I'm going to say that Blake is generally a good fighter and probably one of the best in Team RWBY in general words but lately she seems to focus a lot in her ribbon which makes her an easy target, idk if this on purpose because Blake have always dislike her semblance or it just they don't know how to make Blake fighting style anymore but it kinda annoys me how she has been reduced to a damsel in distress in some fighting scenes.

Overall Blake is a top notch fighter and her weakness are small details that she slowly overcoming.

Yang: ah yeah, here comes my girl (stupid Tumblr mobile isn't letting me putting her name in yellow 😡)

As you guys know I'm a hoe for this girl so I will try to be objective here.

Yang is the strongest member of the team, not only physically but mentally as well.

So, by far she has my favorite fighting style of all the damn characters, I just love watching Yang fight. I think is because I did martial arts as a kid and then some kick boxing in college so idk.

Listen, this girl is so damn practical, her weapons are absolutely genius.

She's probably the few (maybe only one?) Character that actually took an existing fighting style and did her weapon around it + uses her semblance around it which is practical and smart af

Which comes to one of my favorite things of Yang, how tactical she is. Like Yang is what Ruby could be if it wasn't because of the damn weapon.

Like you guys don't get, Ruby weakness is Yang strength.

Yang since the very beginning showed us how of an amazing fighter she is. You thought Ruby is a prodigy? That Weiss is a monster? Blake is out of this world? Well Yang is fucking God.

I know I KNOW, I said I was going to be objective but it just MISS YANG XIAO LONG IS WHAT CINDER WISH SHE COULD BE, I SWEAR TO GOD, THIS GIRL IS BETTER THAN SOME OF THE ADULTS IN THE SHOW.

Ok ok ok

Yang is emotional tho, which cost her a lot (like A LOT, she lost her arm), in the past she was angry 24/7 (still is but baby got it under control 🥰). People are going to say "well not in v1, 2 and 3!".

I'm sorry but that girl has angry issues and the only moment she gets to be angry is when fighting so yeah, she would angry fight everyone and you know what? She still was an amazing fighter while doing so cuz she would kick everyone ass, being tactical about it, find her opponent weakness and absolutely looking hot while doing so.

Anyway, Yang doesn't have like a huge weakness like Ruby or Weiss, literally are small details. She's pretty much versatile as Ember Celica give her the option of shooting at her opponent. Since the beginning she was pretty much one of the best fighters of all the kids, probably coming second after Phyrra.

Her semblance use is pretty good as well, she seems to have a better grasp of it than some of the other kids and know how to manipulate it without overusing it.

Which btw is what made me have like a huge problem with V4 with the whole Taiyang stuff cuz Yang already knew how to fight like he was telling her, so idk I feel that was an insult to Yang as a character because the reason she lost her arm was because of stress, tired, being in battlefield and hello her partner is in danger.

RWBY

Now that I finished with them individually we can see that RWBY has 2 support fighters, 1 versatile and the other one a basically upfront fighter. Which comes in handy a lot of fights.

But it isn't this what makes them a formidable team but it's their chemistry.

Since the very beginning we see they do the most important thing in any type of relationship, communication.

As Weiss has her problem with Ruby at the beginning she end up talking with an adult about it and then getting call out for her poor behavior, that makes her change her approach to Ruby but before all that she did communicate Ruby what her problem was with her which made Ruby to talk with Ozpin and change her approach to study and her team as well.

We see that Yang and Blake goes well since the beginning as well, and they communicate a lot better than Ruby and Weiss at the beginning. To the point that we can see it in their teamwork.

When it comes to Weiss racism the rest of the team communicate her to stop it and then you have Blake and Weiss discussion about it where we got a glimpse of Weiss life in Atlas as well the revelation of Blake being a faunus and an ex member of the White Fang. This makes Blake run away which later Weiss criticized while telling her that they should talk first and communicate better.

The priority of RWBY as a team is communication. Ruby communicate her plans to the rest of the teams, Weiss her feelings, Blake her knowledge and Yang... Ok maybe Yang needs to work in this department.

This makes their teamwork really strong and their bond just continues getting deeper.

Add to this the fact they learn to use each other in a better way, as having both Weiss and Ruby as support helps a ton, Blake to distract their opponents and Yang to finish them off.

A good example of this is probably the train part in V6, where Yang fights all of the Grimms closely, Blake tends to fight them at some distance while helping out and Ruby with Weiss combination of support make the job hard for the Grimms.

This is exactly why JOYR had such a problem with a new Grimm, Yang needs someone to catch her back while she finds a way to destroy the Grimm which is usually provided by her teammates meanwhile RWB didn't had the boost of strength that Yang gives them in battle to be able to finish off the Hound.

Even in duos RWBY are a hard opponent to go against, probably the duo that would have a hard time is Freezerburn as we see in V3 and still I think if you put them fight together currently they would be a duo you wouldn't want to cross lol

They shouldn't have a problem with trios either but usually Yang is the strength of the group and basically the tank so is understandable that RWB had a hard time adapting without her there.

There's a part in the book Before the Dawn where Coco talks about RWBY and how they are a really strong team and even say that while JNPR aren't bad, they were basically carrying on with Phyrra since Jaune wasn't the fighter he is today. (Plus other problems that Renora have as fighters but this is something for other day).

RWBY in general has a great communication between the members, a great leadership, strong bonds and amazing fighters. They know how to adapt to each other styles and some members even complement each other (Yang and Blake).

Other thing that should be talk about its how basically Ruby and Weiss are too similar and too different at the same time to the point that they should clash a lot (which they used to do) but thanks to the fact they communicate their teamwork is amazing and in their own way they make it work.

It really helps that Ruby with Weiss can have the luxury to go upfront against an enemy while having Weiss to back her up which is something she can't do with Yang or Blake.

That's mostly because their teamwork is a metaphor of their own relationship as well as Yang and Blake teamwork is a metaphor of their own relationship.

Usually Weiss is the main support of her team since she's a large range fighter thanks to her semblance which is basically what she gives to her teammates outside of the battle.

RWBY basically fight is how they are with each other outside of the battle as we can see in multiple instances.

Yang being the tank and strength in their fighting style is exactly what Yang is to RWB, she's basically the heart and soul of the team and without her a lot of their attacks doesn't have the strength necessary for it to work as well as we can in V8 how long it took to RWB to know what to do while Yang already knew what she had to do with JOYR. She's the action.

While Ruby is the leader and sometimes call the shoot, she guide the girls through battle and help both with support and action. She usually starts the fight as a sniper until she sees an opening to fight up close which is a thing she actually do with her team. She takes a step back before talking with any of them and helps them navigate through situation in their lifes like promising Weiss to being on her side at Atlas to sometimes intervening between Weiss and her family.

Blake in the other hand is more of a wild card, she's usually Yang personal support as their styles complement each other but in most situations she does it on her own, unlike Ruby, Blake usually is more of an upfront fighter and only being support when Yang needs her which is a thing outside of battle. She usually does her own way, and while she support both Weiss and Ruby is with Yang where we see a more intimate support.

This is what makes RWBY dangerous, their bond and chemistry is something they worked hard to have as they started with difficulties, is a thing the 4 of them appreciate and love, it really helps they know how to communicate and do so to be able to have a healthy relationship between each other.

Right now we are finally seeing a lack of communication between RWBY, specially between Yang and Ruby.

As we all know RWBY is a direct parallel of STRQ which means this miscommunication between Yang and Ruby is important for their future as a team. Is implied that they still have each other back but it's necessary for Yang to open up to Ruby about what's going since this could create a breach if not treated.

Conclusion: stan RWBY and stan LOONA 😌

#rwby #team rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #whiterose #bumbleby

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