#and it adds to his story of being across the country from his home and with fake friends and a heavy party scene

[sundaysodas]

random rmu thought of the day is that it’s a big party school and it has a huge greek life program

[lonelychicago]

no but i can't stop about eddie finding queering the map and being overwhelmed by the amount of stories that resonate with him.

it starts with buck, because of course it does.

buck comes into the station one day, rambling about this site he found online. he's still figuring out bisexuality for himself and has been going down a rabbit hole ever since, reading endless articles and reddit stories and experiences told from so many people.

and something about it, about this particular site, catches eddie's attention. he really can't stop thinking about it, wondering if people from el paso would have any of those pins. if anyone from the place he grew up in, was raised in, ever felt like him.

he can't stop wondering if maybe he was never as alone as he thought he was.

when he gets home, he decides to look for himself— it takes him a while. there's too many black pins and he doesn't quite know how to navigate the huge map on his screen. it takes him a few minutes to get the hang of it.

but when he does— oh, when he does.

right there in el paso, people from the same streets he once rode his bike in, are sharing his experiences. fellow soldiers in the same base eddie trained at.

eddie reads these sacred, secret little messages and feels his heart expand more and more with every each one of them.

some of them makes him laugh and chuckle, teary eyed but amused, like "even the army has gays," and "from one gay cowboy to another."

others, nake him falter. make his bretah hitch inside his chest. make something beautiful and fragile and orecious uncurl from the deepest depths of his soul. make him feel seen in a way he isn't sure he's quite ready to.

messages like— "you're not the only one," and "you'll be okay." "the heaven the people from this town speak of, is not a heaven i wanna be sent to." "i should've told him when i had the chance." "stuck in a warzone, thinking about how i wasted so much time and now i might not make it home to him."

messages that hit a little too close to home. from soldiers still in the closet, struggling to accept themselves and living a lie.

messages from dumb teenagers, scared of the future— just like eddie had been once.

messages from people braver than he ever could be, sharing the stories of how they came out to their families and moved across the country to be able to live their truest selves.

eddie spends hours and hours just reading post after post, goingbthrough as many lins as he can and drinking them in as a dying, thirsting man in the middle of the driest desert. he reads until the light from the comouter makes his head hurt and his eyes burn everytime he blinks.

at the end, before closing the tab, he decides to put on his own note.

📍not sure if I'll ever be ready to say it out loud, but I love him. i'm too late. I've lost my chance. this changes nothing, my heart is still in his hands.

he clicks on add and feels the tiniest amount of weight lifting from his shoulders.

[freshlove-sturn]

house on the cape.

pt 1 pt2

based on last friday’s video bc im obsessed with it. (events that happened in the vlog may not be in order just so the story flows how i want, also might add or get rid of some things for that same reason ofc). definitely gonna be multiple parts if yall like it so please let me know!!

summary: when the triplets come back home from la, they reunite with their favorite summer tradition, staying in the house on the cape. amidst all of the familiar laughter, and reminiscing on old memories, y/n can’t ignore the feeling stirring in her heart. something that went deeper than friendship. as she grapples with the fact that her feelings for her lifelong best friend, matt, are more than what’s just at the surface, she must learn to navigate and balance the unspoken feelings, and the gut wrenching fear of risking it all.

a/n: sorry guys but i think im scrapping all my old fics. i just have lost interest in them and i dont want to give yall something that i just half assed yk. i just need something new 😖🙏 don’t hate me pls. also i didn’t proof read and i never do so hopefully this all makes sense LMAO

……………………..

“BOYS TRIP!” chris shouts through the house.

the triplets are back in boston from being in la. i’d be lying if i said that i didn’t wish that these visits would last forever. being across the country from my best friends sucked.

“oh yeah , and you’ll be there too. you’re one of the boys.” chris points at me, smiling before loading the car with our bags.

“chris please never say that again.” i cringe, but fail to keep in my laughter.

“i agree. that was disgusting.” nick chimes in.

“just wanted to make sure you know you’re included.” chris throws his hands up in defense.

“thanks.” i smile and shake my head before getting in the car.

we were staying at their house in cape cod, something all of us looked forward to each summer growing up.

we arrive at nate’s house to pick him up. after the group effort of showering him in compliments for his new hair cut, we get back in the car.

sandwiched between nick and nathan, i check the time on my phone. nick grabs my wrist and moves it out of the way to give himself a better view of my lock screen.

“that is such a cute picture.” he says admiringly. it was a picture of matt and i. the picture was taken from behind while matt gave a piggy back ride back to the car because my feet hurt from wearing heels to madison’s concert.

“you took it.” i laugh.

“i know. i really out did myself huh.” he hypes himself up. i smile and roll my eyes.

once we get to the cape house, we unload the car. all of our bags scattered haphazardly throughout our respective rooms. the same rooms each of us have stayed in for years. nate with chris, nick with matt, and me, having been the only girl, with my own room.

“let’s go to the beach!” nate walks out into the kitchen, clapping his hands together.

…

the beach was just within walking distance. matt and i fell behind the rest of the group.

“i’m so glad you’re back.” i tell him.

“me too. i missed you.” he replies.

“i missed you too.” i admit. “a lot.” i look up and meet his eyes. we just stare at each other for a second. we didn’t really need to say anything. it was almost just a mutual understanding that each other were our favorite person.

if only he knew the extent.

the only person i’ve confided in about my feelings for matt was nate. which was precisely why he kept shooting me knowing glances anytime matt and interacted. nate swore that he knew i was in love with matt for years, before i even knew myself.

i can’t exactly pinpoint when i fell in love with my best friend, but i do remember when i realized.

flashback

matt and i sit together in the hammock string between two large oak trees in the backyard of the cape house. the gentle breeze swaying us back and forth softly. the sun was going down just to the right of us. beautiful pink and orange hues paint the sky.

“i could stay right here forever.” matt breaks the silence that had fallen between us.

“me too.” i reply softly.

“oh hey i have something for you” he digs his hand around in his pocket and pulls out a baby pink seashell. he hands it it me.

“i’ve never seen a pink one like that before.” he tells me as i admire the gift.

“me either. i love it. thanks matt.” i smile sweetly at him.

“of course.” he returns the smile.

i feel the heartbeat in my chest racing and my cheeks heating up. the feeling i had been carrying around with me for quite some time became abundantly clear.

i was in love with my best friend.

when i got home that night, i tied a string around the shell, and wore it as a necklace. and i haven’t taken it off since.

end of flashback

that was back when we were 16. 4 whole years i’ve gone hiding my biggest secret from the one person i told everything to.

our gaze was interrupted by chris. “jesus, yall are some slow pokes” he hollers back at us.

we both laugh and pick up out pace.

soon we arrive at the beach. i’ve always loved the beach. it truly is my happy place.

especially when i’m with matt.

nick snaps pictures here and there.

“oh my gosh matt look! this is just like your tattoo!” i hold out a shell to him.

“oh shit you’re right.” he holds out his arm, revealing his tattoo.

“that’s sick.” chris admires the similarity while nick takes a picture.

…

later that night, we all sit in the living room debating on what movie to watch.

“chris im not watching planet of the apes again. we’ve watched it like 9 times already.” nick argues, shutting down chris’s pleads.

“how about grown ups?” matt suggests.

“yes i love that movie.” nate agrees.

“that’s fine with me.” nick shrugs and starts typing it in.

“is that good with you?” matt leans down to where i was sitting in front of him, his voice soft and genuine.

“yeah that’s good with me.” i tell him.

he smiles and pats the spot on the couch next to him, gesturing me to come sit up there with him. i stand up from my spot on the floor and sit down next to him. he drapes a blanket over the both of us.

about an hour or so into the movie, my eyes get heavy. i lean my head on matt’s shoulder, to which he responds with wrapping his arm around me. this was nothing out of the ordinary. there’s pictures going back to when we were in preschool of the two of us practically fused together passed out on the living room floor.

suddenly, a gentle shake of my shoulders woke me up from a sleep i hadn’t even known i fell into. my eyes flutter, slowly regaining focus. when they do, i’m met with matt’s gentle blue eyes.

“hey, you wanna go lay down in your bed? i don’t want your neck to be sore.” he asks, genuinely concerned for my comfort.

i look around, everyone else appeared to have gone into their rooms.

“yeah i probably should.” i say through a yawn.

matt grabs my hand and helps me stand up from the couch. we walk down the hallway. my room came before his and nicks.

“goodnight matt.” i say, slowly turning the doorknob.

“goodnight y/n. see ya in the morning.”

i toss and turn in bed, unable to fall asleep. i stand up from bed, and leave my room. slowly making my way to the kitchen to get a drink, careful to not wake anyone up.

i open the fridge and grab a water. before i can take a sip, i hear a familiar voice behind me.

“can’t sleep?” the sudden breach of silence made me jump a little. i turn around and see matt. he was leaned up against the door frame. his sweatpants falling dangerously low on his figure, his arm under his shirt itching his shoulder, exposing his midriff.

“nope. you?” i set my water down on the counter.

“hm mm” he replies.

we stand in silence for a few moments before matt breaks the silence again.

“wanna go to the beach?”

….

a/n: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LMK IF YALL LIKE THIS. SUGGESTIONS ALWAYS WELCOME AND MY INBOX IS ALWAYS OPEN 🙏 i’m using my old taglist, so lmk if you want taken off or added to it!

taglist: @honestlybabymiracle @pepsiimaxx @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattestrella @luvmxtt @rac00ns-are-c00l4

[itsbubbleteataro]

Heloo! :D I saw your request are open so i decided to send one! what would be Sunday's reaction to a Furina!s/o? If that's a tad bit confusing, can you do Sunday's reaction to his s/o performing Sinners Finale (Furina's execution song) and the execution if you're feeling angsty :3 (You dont need to add that part if you dont want to) SORRY FOR MY BAD ENGLISH IM REALLY BAD AT EXPLAINING

can i be 🤸 anon pls :3

-🤸

You bet you can! Sorry 🤸 if it's not as you'd like but I did have a lot of fun writing about it. I kept some elements that I really enjoyed and found some nice music to listen to in the prosess. I had a lot of fun brainstorming in a cafe with some coffee!

Sorry about my posting being all over the place, moving across the country in the next few months will keep one busy! Anyways heads up this will pull at the heart strings,

Without anymore stalling, I present

La Danse du Chagrin

"Long, long ago, on a small planet named La Sec, a tradition old as the aeons persisted. Every 500 years a lottery was to be held. The winner is said to preform a dance so wonderful that the skies themselves weep and bring this dry and starved planet the water it desires"

You've told this story to Sunday as many times as he asked. Every time he seemed more and more enthralled within the sad story.

The very same story you told him when he first found you, one of of his many trips outside of Penacony.

He saw you dancing for the very first time, a style he wasn't familiar with at first. You lived gracefully, going up en point as if it were as easy as breathing.

The two of you met when he went to extend an invitation, to invite you to dance for the dreamscape. You soon became one of the more popular shows to go to when Robin wasn't present.

It was just after one of your shows, you and Sunday were in your dressing room. Him away from the public eye, watching you make yourself perfect before your next performance.

Sunday's always liked that about you, how your always perfect when you dance, as well as when you dress for the day or for the stage.

A bloodhound knocks on the door to the dressing room, prompting Sunday to get up and answer it as you were busy making sure your hair was perfect. Sunday was handed a note, addressed to you. He passed it along, setting it down on your table while he took his seat again.

Carefully you opened it, taking the note in hand and reading it. You bit your lip, keeping as stoic an expression as you could muster.

"Well my dear dove, it seems we have a show to attend in La Sec. I do hope you will come watch me dance, they did personally invite me too"

You said as you stood up, turning to face him. In hand your point shoes. In the other a red tambourine with matching velvet ribbons tied to it. Your dress a silky white with blood red accents.

"By of course my dear, it seems we are to depart?"

You nodded your head and walked side by side with him.

----

Arriving home was just like you expected. Dry, the earth cracked and starved for water. You took Sunday to Palace d'ear. A grand palace with many a room and beautiful gardens made of stones instead of lush greens. Inside tall ceilings with paintings.

Sunday looked at the paintings, filled with beautiful dancers, tales of woe and sorrow. Some of excutions.

The two of you walked on, further and further. You directed Sunday to a stage, and had him sit in the audience, while you went off to speak with an official.

------

It had been about an hour, he noticed a spinning blue sword above the stage, he figured it was just an effect. After all, it is a stage.

He blinked as he looked at you, then, the music started to play.

He watched you dance both your and his favorite solo, La Esmeralda Finale .

Your white dress swirled around you as you danced, your pristine point shoes matching your skin as always. Your hair half up and half down. Sunday always lived watching you dance.

The music ended as you held your final pose. As Sunday stood clap, the blue sword he saw beforehand stopped spinning, and came crashing down with a thunk.

Your dress was stained red, like the bow in your hair.

His eyes, wide in horror. No one had explained the sacrifice to him.

He bolted to the stage when he could, cradling what was left of you as he watched your body turn to little blue droplets and head into the sky.

Your bloodied point shoes, held close to his chest as it started to rain outside.

Oh what a terrible day for rain.

He clutched your beloved shoes close to his heart. He started to sob.

First he was robbed of his sister, now of his beloved? How the world was cruel to him.

He stayed long past the crowd leaving, gathering up your belongings to take them back to his home, your home.

Sunday never went to a ballet again, it wasn't the same.

How he wished he could have watched you keep dancing on for him

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Part of the Team

Plot: On her first day working for KJPR, Y/n tours AFC Richmond’s facility and meets some of the staff.

Warnings: language, use of f!reader, (16+)

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Well, first off, thank you for the lovely response! I certainly didn’t endeavor to write anything for Ted Lasso (I was actually going to take a writing break) but this idea seemed good enough to indulge.

This has been added to the taglist in my bio, so don’t be afraid to click it and add yourself. It will be kept 16+ just for language and the show’s subject matter so I won’t be adding anyone unless your age/range is specified in your bio.

All that being said, I hope this nurses a little bit of your finale hangover. No Greyhounds to be found in this chapter, but a wild Ted does appear. Writing for him is going to be a hilarious exercise for me lol. Enjoy!!

—————————

Wanting to be prepared, Y/n had started doing research on AFC Richmond the morning after accepting Keeley’s job offer.

The slight buzz she’d managed at the bar had blocked from her memory that she knew more about Rebecca Welton than she thought. Years before, she’d seen her face splashed across all the tabloids at news stands and markets talking about her divorce from…for the life of her, Y/n couldn’t remember the man’s name. All she remembered is there’d been perfect pictures of him and his various models of the months, while the cameras always managed to catch Rebecca with a sour look on her face. Y/n remembered feeling like she could read the whole situation without without ever perusing a filthy word.

As she studied, Y/n put together that Richmond consisted of three coaches. The manager, Ted Lasso, was a name the whole country knew, regardless of whether you watched football or not. It wasn’t Y/n’s place to judge, but she assumed if he was still around, there was a reason. He’d brought along an assistant coach from the states with him, along with Roy Kent joining their staff the previous season. Another name she didn’t need to bother to learn as it was already burned in every Brit’s brain. There also seemed to be a scandal with a previous coach, Nathan Shelley, having abandoned Richmond for West Ham United as Richmond reentered the Premier League.

Having gone to school in London and staying after, Y/n had gone to plenty of football matches with friends. Much like American sports, she’d never been as interested as those surrounding her, but she enjoyed the atmosphere. However, she pulled up highlights of old Richmond matches on Youtube and studied them to try and get a feel for the players. Two in particular stood out to her.

Sam Obisanya caught her attention for his raw talent, the graceful way he managed to move in such a brutal sport. She’d also seen the way he handled himself in press conferences, always soft and well spoken. He’d been fearless in his defense of Nigeria, his home country, and against Dubai Air and Cerithium Oil. She had mad respect for him and his bravery.

Then there was Jamie Tartt. Going through videos of his stints at Richmond left Y/n puzzled. He seemed to have started out the cocky striker, too busy kissing his own foot to realize there were twenty more on the pitch waiting to shine. He never passed. He never assisted. It was all him. But then, after his swift departure and return to the team, his playing style shifted. Suddenly, he did pass. He did assist. A few months difference and it was practically night and day.

Y/n sighed as she shut her laptop, having just finished the video of him letting Dani Rojas take the penalty goal that secured Richmond’s return to the Premier League. She hoped Jamie Tartt, and all other Greyhounds, wouldn’t be a PR headache.

The night before she officially started at KJPR, Y/n found herself nervous. It seemed like too ideal of a situation to meet someone at a bar and be offered a job right after losing yours. She felt hesitant to trust that when she walked into Keeley’s office, she wouldn’t find a complete nightmare. She went to sleep with a clenched jaw and stiff shoulders, praying that this wouldn’t be another loss to face.

—————————

Y/n pulled up to the KJPR office building at 8:55. She adjusted her carefully ironed pants, smoothed down her blouse and blazer and took a deep breath. Her capabilities were the one place her insecurities had no place living. She was good at what she did, she just needed a place to do it.

When the elevator doors opened, she was surprised to find a small office with multiple occupied desks set up. Keeley had made it sound much smaller than it actually was.

“Y/n!”

A familiar voice exclaimed and Y/n peered across the room to see Keeley rushing out from behind her desk and bursting out her office door.

“I’m so glad you showed,” she grinned as she scurried to Y/n and took hold of her hands.

“You offered me a job and you thought I wasn’t going to show up?” Y/n asked with a confused chuckle.

“I mean, to be fair, I offered it to you in a restaurant after, like, a glass and a half of wine,” Keeley replied, “I’m not sure I’d have believed me either.”

Y/n laughed a little, very aware that all her fellow employees were not only watching the unprofessional display, but hearing the story of her even more unprofessional hiring.

“Should we…” Y/n gestured towards Keeley’s office.

“Oh, right,” Keeley practically shouted, leading Y/n back and through the door.

True to the little Y/n knew about the woman, Keeley’s office was head to toe…Keeley. Pink everything, floral patterns, a ceramic jungle cat in the corner…it was, most definitely, the most unique of any boss’s office Y/n had ever entered.

“Right,” Keeley said as she took a seat on the couch in the corner, leaving a spot for Y/n, “Let’s get to it.”

Y/n settled onto the couch, leaving a fair amount of space that Keeley immediately cut in half.

“So I know you said that you’ve been more of a manager lately, but that you’re good with PR,” Keeley recounted, “What did you do for you last companies?”

“Oh, I floated around a lot,” Y/n began to mentally run through her old positions, “I managed small teams under a much larger umbrella of board members. Minor stuff. But in the public relations department, I’ve been in charge of social media campaigns, run a few accounts, and handled plenty of press conferences, interviews, that sort of thing.”

Keeley’s smile grew with each task that Y/n listed off. “I think you might be the most perfect fucking fit!”

Language, another unprofessionalism Y/n felt she was going to have to get used to.

“Before all of this happened,” Keeley gestured to the frilly space around them, “I did full time PR for AFC Richmond and did all that kind of stuff. That’s actually where I wanted to potentially start you off.”

Y/n shrugged, silently grateful she’d gone the extra mile with her research, “I’ll go anywhere you need me.”

“Perfect,” Keeley grinned, already getting off the couch, “I was actually heading over there for a meeting with Rebecca. It’d be a great opportunity to show you around and introduce you to some of the staff.”

“Uh, sure,” Y/n quickly picked her purse back off the floor.

“I really think you’re gonna love it there,” Keeley continued, collecting her bag and a pink binder, “I feel bad I’m not there full-time anymore. It really is one of the best places to work.”

As Keeley spoke, Y/n followed her out of the office. She struggled to keep up with how fast Keeley managed to move in her high heels. As they waited for the elevator to arrive, a brunette woman passed them by.

“Oh, Barbara,” Keeley called out, “I want you to meet the newest member of KJPR. This is Y/n.”

Barbara looked Y/n over from top to bottom as if inspecting the latest crop. Y/n’s confidence in her extended hand began to drop under the pair of judging eyes.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/n,” Barbara seemed to shake her hand with caution before turning to Keeley, “You didn’t mention anything about bringing on a new hire, Miss Jones.”

Keeley visibly shrank at Barbara’s words, “It was a spur of the moment thing.”

“Ah,” Barbara replied, turning back to Y/n, “May I ask what, if any, experience you have?”

Looking between Barbara and Keeley, Y/n listed off the positions she’d previously held and the companies names. With each title, Barbara’s frown turned into…something between a smile and a frown.

“Ah, well,” Barbara took a breath, “Lovely. Welcome to KJPR.”

With one more firm shake of her hand, Barbara departed, off to whatever task needed her attention. Keeley and Y/n were left in an awkward silence not of their creation.

“We’re still getting to know one another,” Keeley explained with a nervous smile.

“I got that,” Y/n nodded.

“Right,” Keeley shifted gears and gestured towards the elevator, “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

—————————

Richmond wasn’t far from the heart of London, where Y/n had spent most of her time. Functioning nearly exclusively within the corporate world had kept her within a bubble that rarely gave her opportunities to venture outside its walls.

As Keeley drove them through Richmond, making pleasant small talk, Y/n’s eyes were transfixed on the sights. Nothing was particularly extraordinary looking, but compared to the grays and blacks of London office buildings, the place was like a daydream someone like her might create during their 9-5.

“Do you live near here?”

“Hmm?” Y/n snapped out of her thoughts, “Oh, I’m about 30 minutes away. But I’ve never really spent any time here.”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Keeley replied, turning them down another road, “You should take some time this weekend to roam around.”

Y/n filed the idea away, first she needed to confirm that AFC Richmond was the right fit.

Soon enough, Keeley pulled them into the parking lot of Nelson Road Stadium. Y/n recalled that she’d been there once to see a match with friends in college, but that had been on the spectator side. Parking mere feet away from the pitch felt surreal, even for a non-football fan.

“I’m gonna take you up to Rebecca first,” Keeley said as she shut her car door, “None of the players or coaches’ll be here since they’re still on break.”

Y/n followed alongside her, entering the stadium through the side doors. The inside of the building was painted in team colors of blue and red. Along the walls, there were trophies and framed pictures showcasing the Greyhound’s accomplishments over the decades. The history of the club was something Y/n had yet to do research on, but even ten minutes spent in the halls would tell her more than Wikipedia probably could.

Keeley led them up two flights of stairs till the colors of the walls changed to neutrals. The door at the top of the steps hung open, but Keeley still gave a courteous knock.

Rebecca looked up from her desk, smiling when she recognized the two guests. “Good morning,” she said, cheerily.

“Hi, babe,” Keeley smiled, “I brought Y/n with today. Thought it might be good for her to tour the place.”

“Of course,” Rebecca rose from her chair and met Keeley and Y/n in the middle of the room. She brought Y/n in for a half hug, half handshake, “I’m absolutely thrilled you’re here.”

“Oh,” Y/n smiled, awkwardly accepting the greeting, “I’m…pleased to be here.”

“Right,” Rebecca released her and gestured for the women towards the couch, “I’m not sure what Keeley has planned for you, but we’re never without work here.”

Before Y/n could voice her neutrality, Keeley spoke up.

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she began, “I’d really like to have another pair of hands on the club, just in case there’s anything I might miss,” Keeley turned to Y/n, “I’d love to put you exclusively on Richmond duty.”

“Like I said, I’ll go where I’m needed,” Y/n raised both her hands in surrender to their plans.

Rebecca exhaled and grinned, “Perfect. Like I said, there’s never a shortage of work. With this being our first season back in the Premier League, there’s plenty of press to be handled.”

“I’m happy to go wherever I’m needed,” Y/n restated, deciding it was best to just go with the flow of things.

A knock at the door turned their attention.

“Good morning, ladies,” a shorter man sporting a suit and glasses entered the room.

“Higgins,” Keeley greeted.

“Good morning, Leslie,” Rebecca smiled, “I’d like you to meet KJPR, and Richmond’s, newest addition, Ms. Y/n Y/l/n. Leslie is our director of football operations.”

“Ah,” Higgins nodded, coming to the couch to extend his hand, “Welcome to the team, Ms. Y/l/n.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Y/n said politely, shaking his hand before sitting back down.

“Y/n will be helping Keeley handle the PR department,” Rebecca further explained, before her train of thought visibly halted, “Hang on…” she looked to Keeley, “Your old office is still vacant.”

Keeley gasped, “It is.”

Y/n’s eyes bounced back and forth between the woman.

“If Keeley can spare your presence at the KJPR office,” Rebecca placed a hand on her best friend’s arm, “How would you feel about working here?”

Searching for her words as quick as she could, Y/n shrugged one shoulder. “I’m completely fine with that,” she looked to her boss, “If Keeley’s alright with it.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Keeley smiled, “I’d actually love it if we had feet on the ground here.”

Y/n blinked. Just like that, everything was settled.

“Excellent,” Rebecca clapped her hands together once, “Shall we go for a tour?”

“Ah, that was going to be my suggestion,” Higgins spoke back up.

Never before had Y/n been swept up so quickly in a job. Nothing moved that fast in the corporate world.

Keeley, Rebecca and Higgins led her back down to the main floor of the facility. Higgins and Rebecca spouted off a few historical facts about Richmond that Y/n logged away. Rebecca reiterated Keeley’s earlier statement that since they were still on break, Y/n wouldn’t be meeting the players and the coaching staff until training began the following week. Nonetheless, Y/n felt like she was somehow encroaching on the Greyhound’s territory as the tour led to the locker room.

“This will be the only time you enter and the smell is pleasant,” Rebecca quipped.

Y/n chuckled, her heels clicking against the floor as she scanned the numbers above each locker.

“Any favorites amongst our Greyhounds?” Higgins asked playfully.

“Oh, no,” Y/n paused to answer, just below Jamie Tartt’s ‘9.’

“Y/n has openly admitted to not having partaken in much of the sport,” Rebecca added.

“But I’m very excited to make Richmond my club,” Y/n was quick to do damage control over what her tipsier self had admitted, “I think what you all have accomplished here is brilliant.”

The sound of a door opening on the other side of the locker room turned their heads. A man jogged into the coach’s office, bending over one of the desks in search of something.

“That’s odd,” Rebecca muttered, stepping forward and opening up the connecting door, “Ted, what are you doing here?”

Y/n followed Keeley and Higgins’ lead and entered the room. She could finally get a clear view at the man who was, indeed, Ted Lasso.

“Oh, last time he was visiting, Henry left somethin’ in my desk and we needed to come grab it,” Ted answered, searching through one of his drawers until he retrieved whatever he was seeking.

“Ah, well, lovely timing,” Rebecca gestured for Y/n to come forward, “You can meet the newest addition to AFC Richmond. This is Ms. Y/n Y/l/n. She’ll be helping Keeley head up the PR department.”

Ted gave a friendly smile and stuck out his hand, “Well, how ‘bout that? Welcome to the family! I’m Ted.”

Y/n gave a firm handshake and returned the smile, “Y/n.”

The simple utterence of her name caught Ted’s ear. “Hang on now,” he stopped and held up both his hands, “Am I dreamin’ or do I actually hear a lack of accent?”

The five of them laughed to varying degrees. “It’s nice to hear a little bit of home for me as well,” Y/n said warmly. It had been at least four months since she’d met someone who hailed from the states that wasn’t a tourist.

“Well, I’ll tell you,” Ted continued, still shaking Y/n’s hand, “It’s gonna be real nice to have someone around here who’ll understand what I’m sayin’. Like if I text the word ‘color,’ nobody’s gonna tell me it ain’t the right spelling. Or if I mention Chick-Fil-A, they won’t think I’m just shortenin’ the name of a delicious entree. Matter a fact,” Ted came up for a lightning quick breath, “Where we at with that? Is it still okay to eat there? Waters were a little murky ‘round the time I left.

Y/n was trying to process the speed in which the man spoke. “Uh, I don’t know,” she answered politely, “I haven’t been home in a while.”

Ted hummed in reply and moved on, “Well, we’re real happy that you’re here. Hey, you need anything, don’t be afraid to gimme a holler.”

“That’s very kind,” Y/n nodded as Ted finally released her hand, “Thank you.”

“Well, I gotta run,” Ted announced to his co-workers, “I got Liam out there watchin’ Henry. See y’all next week!”

With a chorus of farewells following him, Ted Lasso walked back out the way he’d come.

“Well,” Y/n began, trying to sum up her first impression as tidily as she could, “That was-“

“I felt the same way at first,” Rebecca interjected, “But truly, one of the nicest human beings you will ever meet.”

“Oh, yeah,” Keeley agreed, sweeping her hand through the air, “Seriously, spend one day with him and he’ll be your emergency contact by lunch.”

“The players love him,” Higgins added to their defense.

But it wasn’t Ted’s personality Y/n was startled by. Ted was the midwest personified, that was all familiar. It was the speed in which Ted had offered up his kindness, how at ease he was voicing every thought on his mind. That, to Y/n, was more disarming than anything else he could have done.

“Well, I look forward to getting to know him more,” Y/n said, and there was truth to it. She appreciated co-workers who were actually pleasant to be around, even if Ted was a lot to take, “And the other coaches.”

“Why don’t I show you where your office is?” Rebecca suggested.

Their welcome wagon moved up to the second floor where, at the end of the hall, lay the space in question. It was half the size of Rebecca’s office, which was more than enough for Y/n. She’d last been in a shared cubicle far too small for two people to comfortably fit.

“My office is just at the end of the hall,” Higgins said as Y/n took in the space, “If you ever need anything.”

“It’s lovely,” Y/n smiled, her eyes running over her desk. She turned back towards the door and faced Rebecca, Keeley and Higgins, “Thank you all so much for all the hospitality you’ve shown.”

“Nonsense,” Higgins spoke for the trio, “You’re part of the family now.”

The same unease that had come from interacting with Ted Lasso filled Y/n once again.

The rest of the day was spent bouncing between Keeley and Higgins, discussing PR strategies for the new season and learning about the club’s operations. By the time 5:00 came around, Y/n felt like she had information spilling out of her ears. Her mind was filled to its brim.

After Keeley dropped her back off at the KJPR office, telling her she dazzled on her first day and wishing her a good evening, Y/n hopped in her car and drove right back to Richmond. She had no dinner plans and thought Keeley’s idea to explore the city worthwhile.

She decided on the pub they’d driven past on their way to Nelson Road, the Crown and Anchor. With it being a weeknight, it wasn’t too crowded, and she found a spot at the bar, ordering a sandwich for herself.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” the woman tending bar said after Y/n had placed her order, “You new to town, love?”

“Oh, no,” Y/n shook her head before scrunching her eyebrows, “Well, sort of. I live closer to the city but I just started a job here.”

“Ah,” the white haired woman replied as she filled a pint, handing it to a customer, “Where at?”

Y/n wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were about working for a football club. Were you supposed to go around sharing that information? Or did it mean you’d have thirty drunken fans hounding you for tickets suddenly?

“AFC Richmond,” she answered truthfully, “Public relations.”

The woman’s eyebrows raised an inch, seemingly impressed. “Well, that’s the right answer to get your meal on the house.”

Y/n laughed a little, relaxing slightly.

“Good first day then?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Y/n bobbed her head from side to side, “I mean, I really just met co-workers and learned the basics. No complaints so far.”

“Did you meet Ted yet?”

“I did,” Y/n answered, slightly confused, “You know Coach Lasso?”

The woman pointed towards the pub doors, “Lives on just the other side of the building. Comes in a couple nights a week. He’s a good man.”

“That he is,” Y/n nodded, not wanting to tarnish anyone’s reputation with her own discomforts, “Definitely tries to make you feel welcome.”

“Oh,” the woman was now coming to lean against Y/n’s side of the bar, “He won’t stop until you know you’re welcomed. Best to just let it happen. Whatever he’s done to Richmond, it works.”

It hadn’t escaped Y/n’s notice that in the two seasons Ted Lasso had been coaching the Greyhounds, there was a shift in…everything. Between videos of the players on the pitch, to little stories interspersed in her conversations with Rebecca, Keeley and Higgins throughout the day, Y/n was given the impression that Ted Lasso was a miracle worker. It didn’t take much thought to deduce that Ted was going to try and integrate her into their team as well.

“Well,” Y/n shrugged slightly, seeing that her sandwich was coming around from the kitchen, “I mean, it’s just a job. It’s not supposed to change your life or anything.”

Just as she was about to be handed her meal, the white haired woman took it from the waiter’s hands. Y/n could tell she wasn’t getting her food until the bartender had spoken her piece.

“You just watch out, love,” the woman warned with a smile, “Whole city hated Ted when he arrived, and now take a look.”

She gestured to the space around the bar as if Y/n was supposed to be seeing the peace.

“The best things that happen to us are usually the most unexpected,” she continued, giving her a wink.

Y/n drew a breath, locking onto the woman’s every syllable.

“You’re part of Richmond now,” the woman continued on, “Whether it changes your life or not isn’t up to you.”

Without another word, the woman set Y/n’s sandwich in front of her and went off to tend to another patron.

Y/n was fearful to move, lest the bartender’s words appear in thin air and smack her thoughts into line. What was this strange hold the word ‘Richmond’ seemed to have on people? Y/n had lived long enough in England to know how passionate people got about their football clubs, but this was different. This was dedication separate from the sport itself, rather devotion to the inner workings. To the coaches. To the heart of AFC Richmond itself.

Higgin’s words came back to her, part of the family. It all filled Y/n with an anxiety she’d never quite been able to put a name to.

Regardless of what the culture was, on and off the pitch, she was determined to keep to herself. Interact pleasantly with her co-workers and the team, but no more than necessary. Be proficient at the tasks given to her. Stay in her lane.

Family or not, Y/n decided as she bit into her dinner, she was there to do a job and nothing more.

——————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94

[hooked-on-elvis]

ELVIS GIVING ALL THE DOLLAR BILLS HE HAD ON HAND TO A SOLDIER.

The White House trip, late December 1970.

Elvis Presley (1) Army years, ca. 1958 and (2) December 1970.

PLANE TRIP FROM LOS ANGELES TO WASHINGTON D.C. ON DECEMBER 20, 1970. I had to snap into action to work out all the details for Elvis’s return trip to D.C.—lining up our airline tickets, making preboarding arrangements, booking our hotel rooms, and hiring limos to get us to and from the airports. There was no way to do this without spending some more of Elvis’s money — I charged most of it to his American Express card. A short while later, with Sir Gerald [Elvis' favorite Limo driver in L.A., according to Jerry] again at the wheel, we were driving back to LAX. It had occurred to me that we might need some cash during the course of the trip. I didn’t have any (not an unusual situation for me back then) and Elvis didn’t have any, either. All we had was his credit card and a checkbook that I’d found in his desk at Hillcrest. The ever-resourceful Sir Gerald spoke up and said that he knew someone at the Beverly Hilton Hotel who might honor a check for $500 on a Sunday night, so we made the stop there and succeeded in getting the money. Elvis handed it to me for safekeeping. We got to the airport and were the first to board our red-eye flight. As the rest of the passengers boarded we noticed that there were an unusual number of soldiers on the plane — guys coming home from Vietnam who had first stopped in L.A. and were now heading back east to their homes, just in time for Christmas. Many passengers recognized Elvis, and he was cordial with everyone who said hello. Before the plane took off, one of the soldiers came up the aisle to stand next to Elvis and talk with him. He told Elvis what a big fan he was, and Elvis took an interest in the young guy, asking him where he was coming from and where he was heading. I saw that the two were having a very friendly conversation, and my attention drifted after a while. It was refocused when Elvis put a gentle elbow in my ribs. “Where’s that money?” “What money?” I asked. But I’d seen enough of Elvis’s gestures of generosity to suspect what was coming next. “The $500.” “That’s all we’ve got, Elvis.” “You don’t understand—this guy’s just come home from the war. He’s going home to see his family. I want him to have the money.” The soldier got the $500, and I was suddenly in the strange situation of traveling across the country with Elvis Presley, [alone and] absolutely penniless. Excerpt "Me and a Guy Named Elvis: My Lifelong Friendship with Elvis Presley" by Jerry Schilling (2006)

A little something extra to add to this story, something possibly easy to understand, but anyway. Think about today… it's becoming increasingly uncommon to pay for things with real money, we mostly use debit/credit cards - even our cell phones and watches can be used to pay for a purchase. Back in the days there were places that only accepted real currency as a form of payment - it was the 70s. Imagine being alone with Elvis Presley, a guy who wanted everything done as quickly and easily as it could be (TCB), wanting or needing to buy something and you, the only one responsible for him, not having the means to buy it and having to find a way to do it fast, out of nowhere! Jerry really wasn't in an easy position at that moment, but everything turned out just fine.

This is just for illustration purposes. Elvis' money clip.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Imagine that after defeating the devil (or Lucio) Mc gets a bit stronger physically and more powerful in magic how would the M6 react to Mc accidently breaking something without knowing their new strength?

Like for example: Mc was walking through the door and didn't let go of the handle quick and ripped it off its hinges. Cue both Mc and M6 staring in shock.

Or breaking a hard metal without struggle.

-🐙

The Arcana HCs: When MC is a little too strong

~ octopus friend, thanks for the prompt! I've actually already written a set of headcanons for something like this (I'll add it below) but the scene you described is so perfect I had to make a sequel XD Enjoy! - brainrot ~

Related: When MC is stronger than they look

Julian

The two of you were out and about in the South End Market, perusing the stalls when he let out a shout and pointed

There's an exceptionally icky man sliding through the crowd, lifting wallets from people's pockets left and right. Julian, being the hero he is, begins to give chase and calls for you to assist him

The street's too crowded, so you hustle through some back alleyways and pop back out further up the street

Your lover's indignant yelling has tipped off the pickpocketer and the scoundrel is running full speed right past your alleyway, your beloved trying and failing to give chase a good ten people away

In a last-ditch effort to stop him, you reach out and manage to grab the icky man's arm. You dig your heels in and yank

Only to watch him go sailing backwards, over several people's heads, bounce off of a pile of carpets, and land in the canal

Well. It seems you've gotten considerably stronger

Julian catches up to you quickly, initially concerned for your wellbeing and determined to ensure that you are unharmed

Once he does, you'll have to escort him home as quickly as possible, because he finds your strength too attractive to appropriately contain himself

Asra

There's a story behind how the two of you hitched a ride with the cabbage man during your post-Devil trip all over the continent

You had stopped in the capital city of a nearby country and the two of you were having a grand time wandering around, trying new foods, meeting new people, and finding new mischief

As you're passing through one of the major marketplaces, your attention is grabbed by an unusually large wash basin careening through the streets bearing a motley crew of teenagers

Asra's springing into action before you can, sending out waves of magic to move people out of the way and propel the seemingly jet-powered bathtub the rest of the way across the square

It's a cry of "my cabbages!" that pulls your attention to one unfortunate vendor who has left his cart parked directly in the path of the tin of troubled youths

You only mean to pull the obstacle out of the way (really!) but your tug sends the cabbage cart up over your head, on a short arc through the air until it lands safely on a surprisingly sturdy booth roof

When you turn back around, the crowd is watching you slack jawed, the cabbage man is in grateful ecstasy, and Asra is on the ground in tears, wheezing with uncontrollable laughter

Nadia

You had been doing some research in the library to assist with Nadia's "revive Vesuvia" project and stumbled on some old manuscripts detailing earlier blueprints of the city layout

As soon as you find it and the bundle of useful information it was stored with, you rush out to fetch your beloved Countess and show her your discovery

The two of you are walking back through the halls, her eyes resting on you fondly as you summarize what you've found so far

You're so caught up in conversation that you don't think twice about the library door when you approach it. It was unlocked on your way out minutes ago, it's safe to assume that it still is on your way back in

You face Nadia, groping behind you for the handle, about to ask her what the amused expression stealing across her face is for as you tug open the door

Your question is answered for you when the screech of bending and snapping metal grates across your ears, Nadia's face quickly going blank in shock

She steps forward slowly, inspecting the damage you caused when you ripped over twelve deadbolts out of the palace wall before turning back to you with a disbelieving laugh

... so it seems that the door wasn't unlocked, after all

Muriel

You're working in the clearing with him when you accidentally make yourself nature's greatest problem child

There's an annoying infestation of a certain type of plant recently that the chickens keep eating even though it isn't good for them

You're tired of your soft-hearted lover bringing vomiting poultry into the hut at all hours of the night to nurse them back to health, only for the foolish birds to go straight back out and eat it again

So you're spending your morning hunched over the grass, clearing the area section by section of the godforsaken herb

There's sweat trickling into your eyes, making it difficult to see, and when Muriel calls your name you don't look at the next thing you've grasped, only giving it an angry yank as you answer him

You're thrown off balance when the root you pull turns out to be way longer than the weeds you were dealing with earlier, landing on your back just in time to see the tree above you slowly rotate and crack

You barely have a second to process the situation before you hear a shout and feel yourself getting scooped up and out of the way, a whole section of that tree's root system still in your fist

Muriel spends the next half hour staring silently at the uprooted tree, deep in thought as the chickens huddle at his feet

Portia

Most of the time, being the partner of an ambassador is exciting in a fairly peaceful manner. Stressful days occur when the nobles Portia negotiates with don't cooperate or storms happen at sea

In today's case, though, it begins with sighting a pirate ship off in the distance. You thought at first that they would know better than to go up against a boat like yours, but it seems they don't

Soon enough the enemy is bearing down on you, cannons out, the crewmembers on deck visibly armed to the teeth

Portia's not one to take this lying down - she is Mazelinka's unofficial granddaughter, after all - and is bellowing orders to the sailors to ready your own ship for battle

"MC!" she shouts, "Get those cannonballs closer to the railing!"

You scramble to the pile of cannon fodder and snatch one up. It's way lighter than you expected, so you blindly hurl it in the direction of the cannons facing the enemy ship and bend down for the next

The deck becomes oddly quiet split seconds before you hear a distant crash and yell. You straighten up and turn around in time to see one of the enemy's masts shatter and fall into the waves

Portia's laughing into a shared kiss before you can ask her what's happened. "MC," she cackles, "MC, you fantastic fool."

Lucio

Today's job has been rewardingly difficult. It's not every day you go up against a stone giant, but this one was terrorizing an entire town for weeks on end before the two of you showed up

It hadn't been very promising at first, Lucio's sword being one of the first things to go, but then you were able to figure out that the loud growling was coming from its stomach and not its mouth

Once you negotiated its access to the local food supply the misunderstanding was quickly cleared up. You turn from the happy ending to see your darling Lucio cradling the now-wrinkly blade

He's distraught - this sword is one of the remaining relics from his countship and it's served him very well over the years

You take it from him before he discovers that it won't be able to slide so neatly into its sheath and take a look at it. It's not a total pretzel - it just needs to be stretched out

You give the two ends of it a tug, as if to affirm your assessment, and before your eyes the metal creaks and straightens. You accidentally leave a divot at the tip in the shape of your thumb

Lucio's too puffed up with pride and joy to question it - he's already waving it in the air and claiming all it needs now is a sharpening

But he is going to look into powering up his gauntlet, if possible

[fibula-rasa]

Cosplay the Classics: Elizabeth Montgomery in “Two”

“Two” first aired on 15 September 1961 and is the first episode of the third season of The Twilight Zone. Sadly, “Two” is the only episode that features Elizabeth Montgomery.

Montgomery was nearly ten years into her professional career in 1961. She had already carved out a solid resume in television, appearing prolifically on anthology and episodic shows and occasionally stretched her legs on the New York stage. Samantha Stephens was still three years away when Montgomery took her voyage through The Twilight Zone.

In its five seasons, The Twilight Zone was a crossroads of up-and-coming and well-established performers. “Two” paired the rising star Montgomery with Charles Bronson, who had a decade more acting experience in TV and film than Montgomery. Though Bronson was the more established star, “Two” is Montgomery’s showcase.

Read on below the jump!

“Two” relies on minimal dialogue throughout and notably Montgomery only has a single line spoken. The role relies almost entirely on Montgomery’s action/reaction, expression, and styling. The episode begins on Montgomery as The Woman wandering an abandoned city. The first nine minutes of the episode pass with no dialogue, with context given by visual elements and Serling’s opening narration. The entire episode takes place on a small section of city street (at the old Hal Roach studios, conveniently already in disrepair). 

We learn through newspapers and magazines that this city is in The Man’s homeland, invaded by The Woman’s nation’s army. Signs of the city’s long five-year abandonment are everywhere, including full skeletons left where they fell. (The macabre element of skeletons is used sparingly across the Twilight Zone and usually in circumstances less grounded in reality than “Two,” such as “Long Live Walter Jameson” and “Queen of the Nile.”) As The Man mulls over his first encounter with The Woman a dove flies up behind him as a symbol of his genuine desire for peace. Through a variety of posters and advertisements, we learn that The Man’s homeland had a culture heavily invested in war.

Collage of the war-related paraphernalia in “Two”

All of that is solid storytelling, but Montgomery’s acting adds an extra something. When The Woman first encounters The Man, Montgomery performs hair-trigger reactivity. Despite The Woman’s dire situation—a stranded foreigner in a decimated country with seemingly no chance to ever return home—her reluctance to trust The Man is significant. Pairing Montgomery’s wordless portrayal of these responses with the jingoistic quality of The Man’s homeland and the notable length of time that the city has been abandoned makes me feel that her feelings might not be a simple holdover of wartime hostility on her part but potentially extended trauma. Perhaps The Woman had previous awful experiences with other straggling remnants of The Man’s military, who may not have been as ready as The Man to give up wartime attitudes in spite of the war clearly being over.

The Woman is understandably acting like a cornered animal. As the episode progresses, The Man tries to be as calculated as possible in communicating to The Woman that he doesn’t want a fight through his actions, turning his back to her, and not retaliating the third time she launches an attack on him. Montgomery, in turn, does a great job of drawing out the cornered animal characterization—alternating between curiosity, hope, mistrust, and open hostility. Montgomery’s characterization gives the role the added dimension that saves the episode from feeling too much like an overly simple fable.

Unfortunately, it’s in executing the fabular aspect of the story where “Two” falters. The opening narration by Serling specifies: 

“It’s been five years since a human being walked these streets. This is the first day of the sixth year as man used to measure time.  “The time: perhaps a hundred years from now, or sooner, or perhaps it’s already happened two-million years ago. The place: The signposts are in English so that we may read them more easily, but the place is The Twilight Zone.”

It’s established here that the location is meant to be a stand-in for any city in any country, and that the use of English is merely a storytelling convenience. So, even though “Two” is intended as a Cold-War era anti-war statement, they are intentionally distancing the fiction from the contemporary real-world conflict. To create further distance from a contemporary place/time, they establish that the rifles are laser guns.

But, then, that one line that Montgomery speaks in “Two,” seventeen minutes in, is “Prekrasny” or “прекрасны,” a Russian word for beautiful or pretty. This pretty much grinds to a halt the concept that this is a cautionary fable and not a vision of a dark future where the Soviet Union and the United States moved to open warfare. While I’ll admit that the conventions used to establish “Two” as a fable are cheeky and a little on the corny side, the episode itself would have been stronger without the suggestion that The Woman is Russian.

I’m not sure who made the call to use a Russian word. I wonder if perhaps Serling wrote his introduction and he had a different read on the story than its writer, Montgomery Pittman. Maybe Pittman intended “Two” to be more of a dark premonition with a twist of optimism and Serling thought of it more as a fable and the two approaches hampered each other in the final product? This is pure speculation on my part of course, but it’s a black mark on what I think could have been an even better episode than it is.

Regardless, I think “Two” is a strong episode and a fine example of a Serling-esque story written by someone brought on to lighten the load of Serling, who worked himself to the bone on Twilight Zone. I also appreciate Pittman’s confidence to rely so heavily on visual storytelling techniques, taking into account that the high quality at which we watch the show now does not reflect the quality home viewers would have had in 1961. It reflects both Serling and the producers belief that viewers would be fully engaged in watching the show as it aired rather than just passively having it on in the family room while unwinding after dinner. 

Elizabeth Montgomery’s performance heightens the whole affair considerably. That’s no shade on Charles Bronson, in fact I think the monologuing he’s given could have come off as unbearably hokey if delivered by a lesser actor.

If you can believe it, this is my very first time cosplaying The Twilight Zone! (Though I did play Rod Serling in a set of sketches in high school. I was as weird as a teenager as I am an adult, okay?) If you didn’t already know, I run another blog called Twilight Zone in Close-ups, examining the powerful use of close-up shots on the show by testing out how much of each episode’s story can be communicated solely by its close-up shots.

☕ Buy me a coffee! ☕

[do-it-jakey-baby]

An Unlikely Encounter

Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Warnings: drinking, profanity, mentions of emotional abuse, angst, heartbreak (sorry if I’ve missed anything)

18+, MINORS DNI

TAGLIST: @torniturntomyarrow @ignite-my-fire @hollyco @fleetingjake

A/N: This is most likely the last full chapter, with an epilogue to come later. This was my first ever fic, and I’m going to be so sad to see the story end. Thank you to everyone who has supported this series, I appreciate each and every one of you!

Chapter 9

A flurry of tears, dripping like a torrential storm onto hot asphalt. Not being able to get a grip of your emotions was taking its toll as you tossed and turned in Sam’s guest room.

Were you leaving?

Had this come to its bittersweet end?

Truth be told, unconsciously you were just looking for an easy way out, not that you had realised that yet. Logic or rationality wasn’t your best friend, you always abandoned something when it got too difficult, never one to look past the struggle and discover the potential of a tricky situation. Your own mind was forever your downfall.

Deep down you knew you loved Jake, but you still believed that this was all too good to be true. You were scared of being hurt, of letting yourself open up too much to the point of no return. So, this was the easiest way to ensure that the hurt stayed minimal.

After an entire night of broken sleep, you made the decision.

You had to leave.

That morning, you broke the news to Kat. She had insisted on coming back with you, but you very firmly told her no. You knew she was enjoying her time with Sam and didn’t want to come in between that. Sam very graciously offered to collect your belongings from Jake’s place whilst he was out at the studio. You didn’t want to add any further insult to injury by letting him be present whilst you were leaving. Sam also offered to pay for your flight home, but you were adamant that this wouldn’t become his issue.

So there you were, being dropped off at the airport, sharing a teary goodbye with your best friend.

She wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “I’ll be home soon, baby girl. I promise.”

Sam approaches you, his arms outstretched. ‘Don’t be a stranger, Songbird.”

“Never.” You grin through the pain.

As you step into the airport, you hastily tap across your phone screen and bring it to your ear. You knew that this was the worst possible way to let someone know that you were leaving the country, but you took the cowards way out.

“Hey, Songbird. Everything ok?”

You take a deep breath. “Josh…” Your voice wobbles with the weight of your emotions. “I’m leaving.”

The line goes silent for a moment.

“No, no you’re not. Where are you? I’ll come and get you, we can talk about this.”

“I’m at the airport, I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

“Songbird, please. Please don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll text you when I’m back. I love you.”

“Y/N, wait, ple-”

Looking down at your phone as you press to end the call, you feel like screaming. Why were you doing this?

Your phone buzzes back to life again, an incoming call from Josh lighting up the screen. Finding it too painful to even look at, you opt to just turn your phone off. You make your way through the airport, checking your bag in and getting through security. The wait at the gate isn’t too long, then you’re boarding the plane. As the pilot prepares for takeoff, you switch your phone back on and place your headphones over your ears. You’re met with a flurry of notifications from Josh. You turn your phone onto airplane mode and open Spotify, watching out the window as Nashville slowly disappears from sight as you ascend into the clouds.

~

It’s been a few days since you’ve been back home in London, and you’ve barely looked at your phone since you left Nashville. Josh tries to call at least twice a day, and Jake has also reached out plenty of times. You peer down as your screen lights up, letting the seconds tick by until another missed call notification appears. You’re about to throw your phone face down beside you when another call comes through, this time from Kat. You suck in a breath and answer, bringing the phone up to your ear.

“Hey.”

“No, no! Back off!” She shouts, her voice muffled.

“Kat?…”

“Sorry, babe. I’ve got both Kiszka twins here fighting to speak to you.”

“Kat! I’m not ready to talk to them.”

“I know, I know. You don’t have to. They just begged me to try and get through, to make sure you’re ok.”

You remain silent, not knowing what to respond. You’d spent the past few days ignoring the situation, not wanting to come to terms with the reality of it.

“Are you ok?”

“Uh, no not really. I don’t know what I’m doing, Kat.”

“My flight back home is tomorrow, so we can talk when I’m back. I want you to be happy, baby girl. Whatever is going on, we can work it out.”

“I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you. I’ll see you soon. Please, look after yourself.”

Kat’s POV

“So?” Josh looks over at you from his seat, his eyes full of sorrow and worry.

“She’s not great, but she’ll be ok.”

Jake furiously rubs his hands over his face, pacing back and forth.

“I’m coming with you.”

“The hell you are!” You spit, extending your finger out at him and scowling. “She doesn’t want to see you, Jake.”

“I need to fix this!”

“You need to give her time to cool off. She takes off in situations like this, a legitimate flight risk. She’d rather pretend it’s not happening than face the music. I’ll talk to her, but you coming back with me is only going to make things worse.”

“I can’t lose her.” His lip wobbles as he collapses down onto the couch. “I’ve never felt this way about someone before.”

“I know she’s happy with you. Whatever makes her happy, makes me happy. I’ll talk to her, but you need to promise me that if she gives you another chance you wont fuck it up again, or I’ll come down on your ass like a tonne of bricks.”

“And me.” Josh pipes up from across the room.

“I’d be a fucking fool to get her back and lose her again.”

Your POV

Kat is due home in a few hours and you’ve spent the day cleaning her flat, ensuring that it’s in a decent state for when she’s back. It’s also the best way to distract yourself from your impending thoughts. You’ve been absentmindedly singing along to whatever song is on in the background whilst going about your chores, until a familiar song comes on which stops you in your tracks.

Songbird

You can’t stop the memories as they come flooding back into your head. The phone call with Josh when he first heard you sing, the car ride, the karaoke bar, Jake singing to you. The encouragement that these two men had given you was prominent in your mind, so instead of focusing on the pain, you whip your phone from your pocket and open a text thread that had been lying vacant for some time.

You: Hey Cass, long time no see. I wondered if you were still in London and fancied a catch up? I have a proposition for you.

It doesn’t take longer than five minutes for your phone to ping, your hands nervously reaching for it and swiping up on the notification.

Cassandra: Y/N! Wow, it’s been a while for sure. How are you doing? I am actually, and I’d love to catch up. I’m actually free tomorrow if that works?

You breathe a sigh of relief, twitching your thumbs and readying yourself to respond.

You: Life has been a bit crazy… Yeah, tomorrow works just fine. Meet you at our usual spot for around 12?

You get a text back confirming the time just as you hear the door unlock, signalling Kat’s return. She rushes up to you and envelopes you in a bear hug, squeezing you so tight you struggle to breathe.

“You know, you didn’t have to come home so soon.”

“Shut the fuck up, my best friend needed me. Besides, I couldn’t stand listening to the twins moping for another second.”

You grimace. “How are they?”

She purses her lips. “Not good. They wouldn’t leave Sam’s, so we got zero time together after you left. Babysitting two grown men isn’t fun, at all.”

“I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.”

“No, it’s not. But I do need you to walk me through your thought process. What’s going on up there?” She gestures to the couch, prompting you to take a seat. She walks over to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of rose, then retrieves two glasses from the cupboard and sits down next to you. She pours you both a glass, hands it to you, then tilts her head to the side.

You audibly sigh, taking a gulp from your glass. “I don’t know, I have no idea.”

“Dig a bit deeper. What are you afraid of?”

“Being hurt.”

“And you think Jake will hurt you?”

“No. I mean… I don’t know. I’d like to think he wouldn’t, but I still can’t understand why he wants to be involved with me. I’m a nobody.”

“Bingo. You’re still hung up on that? Babe, come on. Open your eyes, the guy is crazy about you. You’re right, he has the pick of the bunch. But he picked you.”

“What happens when I’m not good enough, or when he gets bored of me?”

“I don’t think he’d be pining for someone as much as he is if he was going to get bored of them. You’re self-sabotaging. Connor made you feel worthless, I know. But you aren’t, and he’s a piece of shit. Jake isn’t like him.”

You couldn’t argue with her logic, she always did have a good eye and you trusted her judgement more than anything else. She could smell bullshit a mile off, so if she believed in Jake, that had to mean something.

“Shit. What have I done?” You slump down further into the couch, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders.

“Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

“And poor Josh. Fuck, I feel like such a dickhead.” You throw your head into your hands, finally coming to terms with the hurt that you yourself had caused. By running away and choosing ignorance, you’d hurt the two people that you cherished the most in this world, bar Kat.

“They’ll both be fine. They just want you back.”

~

The next day you’re making your way to the coffee shop that you had visited countless times before. You step out of the tube station, your final destination being just a five-minute walk away. You push through the door to find Cassandra sat in a booth a few rows in. She stands from her seat, walking towards you with outstretched arms.

“How have you been?” She asks as she pulls away.

“Up and down… how about you?”

“Busy.” She laughs. “Having free time is such a rarity these days.”

“So you decided to spend what little time you have free to see me?” You raise your eyebrow.

She ignores your comment, leaning forward to put her elbows on the table. “You still singing?”

“No, I stopped pretty much as soon as the band broke up…”

During your time at university, you’d been in a 4-piece band with Cassandra. It was going really well, until you met your ex. This led to a lot of conflict, due to his possessiveness, and ultimately the band decided to part ways.

“Babe, that’s a long time.”

“Yeah, I guess my confidence is pretty much non-existent. But I actually wanted to talk to you about that. I’ve had a change of heart, I want to get back out there.”

“Really… interesting. The funny thing is, I think we both came here with a secret agenda today, and they might just align. I’m in a new band, and we recently just lost our vocalist.”

Your eyes blow wide. “Cass… you can’t be serious?!”

“Deadly. You’re incredible, Y/N. I know they’d love you.”

“I was just thinking about jamming together, I don’t know if I can join a band. I’m way out of practise, with terrible stage fright!”

“We can move past that. Come on, what have you got to be afraid of?”

“Making a fool out of myself, in front of people.” You scoff.

“You won’t. You never have, so why would you now? Just think about it.”

~

“How was Cass?” Kat calls from the couch as you plod through the door.

“Yeah, she’s fine… she actually asked me to join her band.”

Her eyes widen as she snaps her head up from her phone to look at you. “What?! That’s amazing!”

“I’m not so sure…”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I know you want to get back out there again, and I know you can do this.”

“It’s been such a long time.” You sigh, slumping down onto the couch next to her.

“If you can sing a duet with the Josh Kiszka, you can sing in a band. You have to do this, you don’t want to look back and regret not taking this opportunity.”

Taking in a deep breath, you pull your phone from your pocket and open your iMessage thread with Cassandra.

You: I’m in.

Jake’s POV

It’s been weeks. Weeks since she left. Weeks with minimal contact. Weeks since your heart broke in two.

You didn’t know it could hurt like this. The pain that you physically felt in your chest was like a gunshot wound that would never heal.

Every text that she did send was blunt, not going into any sort of detail. She wouldn’t answer your calls, so you left a plethora of voicemails. You yearned to hear her voice again, to feel her against your skin. There was only one way you knew how to somewhat cope with situations like these, and that was by writing. So you wrote, you poured every feeling out onto paper, letting the words flow through ink. You spent countless nights, guitar in hand, building the melody to the lyrics. Then, one particular night that had you nursing too much whiskey, you hit the record button on your voice note app and force yourself through the chorus of the song.

Without a second thought, you send the audio file in your text thread, closing the app immediately and locking your screen.

Your POV

You’d been home from band practise for all of five minutes when your phone chimed.

Jake

You felt bad for avoiding him as much as you had been, but you truly didn’t know how to navigate the situation. You wanted nothing more than to reconcile, but your stupid brain was holding you back. Opening up your messages, you notice an audio file.

That’s odd…

The sound of a guitar rings through the room as you clasp your hand over your mouth. Then, in his velvety smooth rasp, he begins to sing.

Must I go bound, and you go free?

Must I love another, that never loved me?

Should I act such a childish part

As to love another, that would only break my heart

Tiny splashes hit your phone screen as it sits heavy in your lap.

Must I love another, that never loved me?

A sob wracks through your chest, then another. The thought of Jake believing you don’t love him, or ever have, is shattering you into a million tiny pieces. You hear Kat sprint into your room, throwing her arms around you once she reaches your bed.

“What?! What’s happened.”

You say nothing, passing her your phone still open on the audio file. She presses play and listens in horror as the lyrics echo from your speaker.

You sit in silence for a few moments, Kat holding tightly onto you as you let your tears flow. Your chest heaves with the force of your emotions as you try to catch your breath.

“I- I’ve… hurt him.” You sniffle.

“Baby girl, you’ve both hurt each other. I think it’s time you talk.”

“But he’s on the other side of the world.”

“You can’t keep ignoring him. You love him.”

“I don’t know what to do.” You peer up at her, your lashes wet and nose snotty.

“Let’s start with cleaning you up.”

Kat’s POV

Once you’ve finished soothing Y/N’s face with a cool, damp cloth, you put her into bed and stay with her until her breathing evens out and she’s sleeping soundly. You then creep out of her room and into your own, closing the door behind you. Pressing the contact of the person you think will be the most help in this situation, you bring your phone steadily to your ear and listen as it rings twice before a voice answers.

“Kat? Is everything ok?”

“Uhhh, not really. Jake decided to send Y/N a voice clip of him singing a song I’m assuming he’s written for her… it’s really fucked her up. I just put her to bed.”

“Shit. He’s been off the rails recently.”

“How are you doing?”

Josh audibly sighs. “Not great. She wont talk to me, at least not properly.”

“She’s hurting and coping with it by pretending it’s not happening.”

“I know. I just miss her.”

“She misses you. Both of you.” You pause, thinking through your options. “I think I had a breakthrough with her tonight, and if you can help me pull something off, I think it should work.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“She’s playing her first show next week, I know she’s super nervous about it and I think having you both here would make her feel a lot better. Even if she won't say it herself.”

“Are you sure she’ll want us there?”

“I’m almost certain. It’ll give her and Jake a chance to hash things out too, and she can’t run far here…”

“Ok, consider it done. Send me across the details and I’ll make it happen.”

“Thank you, really.”

“No, thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Bye, Josh.”

You throw your phone down onto your bed, hoping your judgement call will pay off.

Your POV

Show day.

You rub your clammy palms against the fabric of your mini skirt, feeling a wave of nausea roll through you. The temperature in the makeshift ‘dressing room’ of the dingy bar you’re playing in is uncomfortable, your heart thundering in your chest as you try to take calming breaths to centre yourself.

What would Josh do?

That was a stupid question. Josh was his own entity, commanding the attention and adoration of all who bore witness to him. His voice captured the audience in a trance-like state, his stage persona being one of the greatest that you had the privilege of witnessing. If you could even channel a quarter of that tonight, you’d make it through.

Think like Josh. You can do this.

“5 minutes until we’re on.” Cassandra calls, beaming at you. “You’re gunna be great.”

You take one final look in the mirror, making sure your makeup is as decent as it’s going to get, then walk towards the entrance to the small stage. As you peek around the corner, you can see a crowd has formed. It wasn’t huge, but definitely more than you expected.

“Ok, it’s time.” Bella, your bassist calls out.

They all take their places on the stage, leaving you last to come out. You grab onto the mic stand, taking a deep breath.

“Good evening, thanks for coming out tonight! It’s so lovely to see all your faces. We are The Fine.”

Your drummer, Lucie, counts you into your first song of the night. Since you were new to the band, you’d opted to only play two originals, seeing as you had to learn the lyrics and melody to their existing repertoire. As you perform, your eyes wander across the faces in the crowd. Some of them are singing along, others swaying to the beat. You spot Kat, standing towards the left-hand side of the stage. As you walk over, you notice she isn’t alone.

Jake, Josh, Sam and Danny are all there with her.

You debate running off stage, disappearing into the night and never coming back. You can’t even give yourself a moment to get over the sheer shock of seeing them, so you go against everything that you know and carry on like nothing has happened. You pretend your heart hasn’t been ripped straight out of your chest at the sight of Jake and Josh. You pretend like you aren’t launched into an internal battle of whether you should be furious or delighted. Instead, you channel every feeling into your performance. You stomp around the stage like you own it, throw yourself down onto the floor with Cassandra as she launches into a guitar solo, and fling your arm around Bella as she sings backing vocals into your mic. When your set is over, you bow to the ground and express your immense gratitude to them for watching you play, then bound out the back, giggling and shrieking with your band members.

“That was fucking sick! You were on fire, Y/N!” Cassandra grabs you, pulling you into a hug.

The rest of the band gather round, echoing her sentiments.

“That was so much fun, I forgot how much I enjoy being up there.” You beam.

You break your huddle when you hear footsteps enter the room, all of you turning to see Kat with the boys stood behind you. Kat runs to you, her arms open wide.

“I knew you could do it!” She roars, throwing her arms around you.

“What did you do?” You whisper, your smile fading slightly.

“What needed to be done. Go see them.”

You peel yourself away from Kat, making your way over to the group.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You give them an awkward smile.

Sam is the first one to step forward, grabbing onto you and hugging you tightly. “You were amazing, Songbird.”

Danny joins in on the hug, his strong arms circling both you and Sam.

“Killed it!” He grins.

The three of you look over at Jake and Josh, both of their stances cumbersome. Sensing the tension, Danny and Sam walk across to the rest of your band to join the conversation.

You flit your eyes up to the twins. “Thank you for coming.”

Josh gingerly steps forward, testing the waters. He holds his arms out in front of you, so you oblige. He wraps his arms around you, his hand rubbing softly on your back. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” You whisper.

“Not just me, Jake too. Go, speak to him. We can catch up. I missed you, Songbird.”

“I missed you too.”

He joins the others across the room, leaving you and Jake alone.

Your eyes meet, then Jake finally speaks up. “You really were incredible. Such a natural up there.”

“Thank you.” You give him a small smile.

“Are you ok with me being here?”

“I mean, it was a shock at first. But yeah, I am. I missed you.”

He moves closer, but stops in his tracks. “I missed you too, so much.”

You decide to be the one to break the tension, easing slowly forward until you’re right in front of him. He clears his throat, rubbing his face with his fingertips. “These past few weeks have been hell. I’m sorry for dropping that audio clip on you, I’d had too much to drink and clearly wasn’t thinking straight. I just don’t know how to function without you. I feel like a piece of me is missing.”

Your hands find his face, lightly cupping his cheeks. “I do love you. I never stopped. I’m so sorry for hurting you, for leaving like I did. It was cowardly.”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted. I’ve never felt this way about someone before and I let it get to me. I understand if you never want to see me again.”

You pull his face towards yours, kissing his lips softly. “My life without you would be pretty bleak.”

He mirrors your actions, taking your face in his and pulling you into him, kissing you deeply. You both break from the kiss, your chests heaving.

“God, I’ve missed this.” He breathes. “I need to know though, is this over?”

“If you’ll have me, I’ll stay forever.”

He wraps his arms around you. “Forever sounds good.”

[labourofego]

day # 4 = under-appreciated oc

this is Easy. this is a drawing i did of him specifically for today because the last time i properly drew him was may and have barely thought about him since then. he has several tattoos: s-e-l-f h-a-r-m knuckle tattoos, "addict" across the top of his ribs, "carpe diem" over his collarbones, "CR95" on the back of his right upper arm, & "if i was that kind of guy" on his lower back. i'll probably add more on his arms and legs as i draw him more. he also has other distinctive features, like track marks and acne and scabs on his arms from picking them. i'll give you a rundown of his story so far (which ended up being really long) under the cut. trigger warning, drug use is a big part of his story. it's pretty heavy in general. involves death and stuff. sorry for being edgy it will happen again.....

easy was born in slovakia in ~1979, and is of vaguely romani descent (not that he knows that). he grew up with two younger siblings, a sister and a brother, charlie. in later life he realized it was possible he wasn't his father's biological child at all, but tries not to think too hard about that. his father disappeared (presumed dead) when he was seven, and he wasn't very present before that. he was a heavy drinker and gambler, usually working or drinking or gambling instead of being home with the family. apart from this, he also experienced scizophrenic episodes, which never occurred in front of easy or his siblings. his disappearance didn't really bother easy, although his mother was barely consolable for a time. local law enforcement wrote this event off as a schizophrenic episode that ended in some ditch somewhere and left it at that. when he was fifteen, easy began to have access to drugs like marijuana and made good use of this access. in contrast with this, his brother charlie was the golden child of the family, doing far better in school than easy ever did (a slacker since childhood) and generally very bright with an interest in journalism. he was also very emotionally intelligent and privately had many thoughts about his father's disappearance. only a year after the start of easy's regular drug use, charlie died in a violent mugging (or something... haven't really decided... but either way he dies) & easy, after ruminating for a while, decides it's really in his best interest to leave the country to escape the circumstances of his birth. in ~1995, in a change of character, seemingly sobered by his brother's death, easy gets his first job. he works for several years, disappearing into music as an escape - he finds his crowd in a circle of punk rockers and starts to adopt the style alongside his lifelong love of hiphop. he works until he's twenty it's only at this time that he has accumulated enough savings to leave and comfortable set up a life elsewhere - it only takes so long because he keeps on dipping into his savings in increasing amounts to cover his drug habit, graduating from pot to whatever the punks are selling. he moves to (place where the story is set- haven't decided between the USA or Nz ... perhaps some sort of fictional hybrid of the two), and sheds his punk aesthetic in order to seem more inconspicuous (or so he tells himself - he mostly gets bored of it and can't be bothered when he has better things to fill his time than sewing patches and ripping his fingers apart mucking around with pyramid studs - like doing drugs). it takes him a while, but in 2001 (at age 22) he finally finds a crowd to run with that isn't just junkies. he starts to attend some live shows of local punk bands in attempt to re-connect with his roots, and finds not only a mentor in one of the guys who run the local scene (one Ehren) but also a group of rag-tag kids (jesse, grant, rascal & elis) who take a liking to him as a mentor figure. this is where he finds a sense of responsibility for others, repurposing his guilt over charlie's death as a positive force for these kids.

bonus : when tyler dies from shooting up anthrax-contaminated meth in 03, easy's guilt returns with a fervor, like it's choking him. he recedes into himself and stays on an indefinite bender just hoping he'll come into contact with the same contaminated product that killed tyler just so he doesn't have to think anymore.

[cainluvr69]

Let Me Tell You The Story Of A Rainbow - Chapter 10

Previous Chapter

Aslan: No, that would be…the world that she sees.

Akira: Huh…?

I abruptly recalled what Snow and White had told me. The creatures depicted in the picture book we received do exist in reality, but they aren't seen very often--phantoms.

Akira: …I was told that the wonderland she draws and writes about is one that even very powerful wizards don't get to lay eyes on very often. Is it really…something Miss Luca can see?

Aslan: Yes, it is. It's really something beyond what you and I can try to imagine, isn't it? …She's always had the power to see such things, even before she knew how to differentiate it from what was actually in front of her. We can't see the things she does, but to her, that wonderland has always been right before her eyes. She can see sea-green clouds in the sky, the ripples across a pink lake, strange plants and odd flowers swaying in the breeze, and she can smell their fragrant perfumes…

Akira: …And the fluttering rainbow-colored butterflies, and those animals running across the hills, too…?

Aslan: Yes. Everything about that landscape is the "reality" that's reflected in her eyes.

Akira: Why are you so confident she can see it? I mean, it's not like you can see it too…

Aslan: Haha, well, funny you should mention that. To tell you the truth, at first I actually just assumed that all wizards could see the things she could. That all of them could see strange and wonderful things that we humans could not. Luca was the first wizard I'd ever met, you see. She would talk happily about things I couldn't see, and painted the world I could see, but in completely different colors… She turned what she saw into art and turned it into a story, and that let us see it, too. It's always very exciting for me, to be honest.

I could hear the timbre of honesty in Aslan's voice as he very calmly recounted all of this to me. The way he talked reminded me of a little kid attracted to the mystique of things yet unknown.

Aslan: Ultimately, though, I wasn't very surprised when I found out later that it's actually a very rare talent. Luca is loved by the world that she sees. And when I see that world in her art and in her writings, it really feels like those plants and animals are things that she lives alongside. Like an author who only writes stories about their hometown. It's that kind of familiarity.

But despite how happily Aslan seemed as he talked, I could see a faint shadow of worry in his eyes, too.

Aslan: But…even though for her, it's something she's seen since the day she was born, the average person isn't going to understand that. When she talked about the world she saw, she was treated like she was lying or trapped in delusions, so she was ostracized for being "unpleasant", and…it seems she was treated very cruelly…

I'm sure it was just my imagination that his voice cracked a little. I imagined what it would be like if I couldn't share the things I could see and reach out and touch with the other people around me. I thought of the girl in question and how she seemed scared of something, her eyes downcast and her heart closed off to outsiders, and my chest clenched painfully.

Akira: Um… What about her parents? She's still just a little girl, so does she at least have a home to return to…?

Aslan: I don't have all the details, but as far as I'm aware, she doesn't have any relatives. I first encountered her while I was visiting Eastern Country to look for new pieces of art to add to our collection, and took her into my care. At the time, she wasn't…she was obviously in a bad state, to put it delicately. …I think the choice I made back then was the correct one, but I also think that I was the lucky one in regards to our meeting.

Akira: …Huh?

Aslan: Because I was the one who was charmed by that rare talent of hers.

His amber eyes, so straightforward in their gaze, with no falsities or hesitation clouding them, were the same color as the warmth of the sun.

Aslan: When I first found her, all she had to her name were a thin stack of papers and pen made from the branch of a tree. A breeze caught some of her papers and even though it was only a glimpse of that world, my heart was still gripped. It was truly beautiful… It overflowed with a strange charm that to this day I still haven't seen in anything else. It was like…like a baring of the soul. That sort of beauty. At first I tried to tell her that--or rather, I did tell her that, quite enthusiastically--but she didn't accept any of my praise. She had spent so long on her own, unable to trust anyone, that her heart refused to listen to what I was saying.

Aslan closed his eyes, lost in his reminiscence, and then he slowly took a deep breath.

Aslan: She is as gentle and delicate as the world she illustrates. I want to show the world her world. I want everyone to know who she is.

Akira: …I'm sure you'll be able to do it. Once they open the cover of one of her books, they'll immediately find themselves captivated. That's what happened to me. And not just me, either. Everyone in the manor, both the young wizards and the ones that had lived for centuries, was captivated by the world in Miss Luca's book.

Aslan: Oh… Thank you so much! I'm hoping this exhibition lets a lot of people get exposed to her work so she can have more confidence in herself. That's why…

???: Kyaa…!!

There was a sudden loud noise and a scream that followed it.

Aslan: That was Luca's voice…!

The words were hardly out of Aslan's mouth before he was off like a shot, with me close behind.

✦✧☾✧✦

As soon as we arrived at the picture book display, we saw a small someone crouched in its center…Luca. Rutile was next to her, his arms around her trembling shoulders, and Heathcliff was crouched down with her, too.

Akira: Rutile, Heathcliff! What happened?

Now that I could get a better look at them, I saw a largish book next to Luca. It had fallen open, and I could see something that looked like ivy reaching out of the pages, squirming like worms across the floor.

Aslan: Oh, Luca… Did it happen again…?

Luca: N…no.

She shook her head, voice quiet. Her eyes were shaky and unfocused--she looked terribly upset.

Heathcliff: Um… She didn't do anything wrong. Rutile and I just startled her on accident.

Rutile: We saw her holding one of the books and called out to her, and that surprised her so much that she dropped it. That's all that happened. Isn't that right, Luca?

Luca: …

Suddenly, everything seemed to start to glitter, like a mirage in the desert. Rainbow-colored scales, like those from a moth's wing, danced through the air around Luca even though there were no wings for them to fall from.

Luca: …Roxy.

Luca's words were barely more than a whisper as she stared blankly at…nothing. There was nothing there.

Akira: (…Roxy?)

Aslan knelt down next to Luca and gently rubbed her back.

Aslan: I'm not going to be upset with you, Luca. Take a deep breath and calm down. Everything's going to be fine. Your exhibit is going great. There's nothing you need to be worried about, because I'm right here with you. Your world is going to make everyone happy. I promise.

Luca said nothing, her eyes on the floor, her small mouth pressed into a tight line. But once Aslan put his big hand on top of her head and gently stroked her hair, Luca's shoulders drooped in something like relief.

Aslan: She's very close to finishing a new work, so I imagine she's a bit tired. This is the first time she's done a public exhibition of her work, so we've both been a bit on edge, too…

Aslan looked at the vines creeping out of the book that had fallen to the floor, and took a breath. Luca's delicately fine silver hair swayed as she leaned closer to Aslan, but she said nothing.

Heathcliff: …We wizards use magic with our hearts. So when our hearts are in turmoil, our magic starts getting unstable, and we can't cast spells as well as we normally can.

Aslan: Magic comes from…the heart…?

Heathcliff: Yes. I've had times where I'm so worked up that I can't use my magic well, too…

Heathcliff smiled a little bit as he spoke, his words as gentle as a spring breeze. His voice was overflowing with kindness.

Akira: …I know how it feels when you're so anxious your heart starts to harden. I can't do things the way I want, and I start getting all worked up… That's how it is for me, a human, and I know it's even worse for those of us who need their hearts at peace to use their magic. For example…I was horribly nervous when I was first pulled into this world and didn't know a thing about anything. And the reason I was able to finally relax and pull myself together was all thanks to that blonde boy there.

Heathcliff: Do…you mean me?

Akira: Yeah. When I was facing my very first morning in the manor, we made ojiya for breakfast together… You gave me some sugar, and just like that, my heart calmed itself right down.

Heathcliff: Oh… Right, I remember that. That really takes me back. I'm a little bit embarrassed, but I'm still happy to hear you say that, Master Sage.

Luca: ……Sugar?

The word that fell from Luca's peach-pale lips was a hope sweeter than honey. Even as she continued to cling to Aslan's suit, she turned her wide eyes to us, peeking through her bangs.

Rutile: Put out your hand, Luca.

Rutile's smile was the perfect gentle invitation--Luca hesitantly held out one hand, fingers spread out like a maple leaf. Rutile pressed one finger to her palm and drew it over her skin, leaving little stars of sugar in its wake.

Luca: …!

Aslan: Woah, it appeared out of nowhere…! Was that…magic?

Rutile: Yes. Wizards can't create something from nothing, but our sugar is made from our magic. So, Miss Luca. If you eat this, it'll make you feel better and help your heart ground itself again. You look like you're not feeling too well, but I'm sure it'll help with that, too.

Luca: This is…sugar…

Shino: What, you're a wizard and don't even know that?

I turned towards the sound of a familiar voice, and saw Shino, who'd walked up next to me without me noticing. I saw Arthur, Mithra, and Murr, too--they must have heard Luca's scream and come to see what had happened.

Luca: …It looks like little tiny stars. I can eat them?

Rutile: Yep. They're all yours!

Akira: It's very sweet and delicious.

Luca: …

She stared at the sugar in her hand with her big, lavender eyes. She was hesitant but at the very same time, she was curious. And then…all of a sudden a long arm reached out and stole the sugar right out of Luca's palm.

Akira & Rutile & Heathcliff: ?!

Mithra: Crunch.

Akira: M--Mithra…!

Next Chapter

[daryfromthefuture]

intro :)

i realized i never made an intro post so here it is lmao-

hi tumblr, my name is dary! i go by she/her pronouns, but feel free to use they/them as well, i don't mind :D

i'm 18 years old and from europe (my timezone is gmt +1)

as you can see from my blog, my main interest is the back to the future franchise :] i do things for the fandom like writing and drawing; you can find me on ao3 under the same username (daryfromthefuture) and on instagram under @/rynaaa_a.

talk to me about bttf in general but specifically (bold = main fixation):

⭐1940s doc/manhattan project lore

⭐1950s doc

⭐bttf the musical

⭐bttf the game

⭐doc and marty's friendship (!!!)

some fun facts about me:

i learned to skateboard because of marty mcfly and my favorite drink is pepsi (WITH sugar)

i speak english, german, russian and like basic french (english being my third language learned out of these)

my favorite subject is history and 20th century history is another big interest of mine

writing is my favorite thing to do ever and i want to write movies someday

my favorite bands are huey lewis and the news & queen

i'm taller than mjf by three inches

i ran out of fun facts, may add later LOL

thank you for checking out my blog! i'm always open to making new acquaintaces, so feel free to message me :D

fanfic directory under the cut!

FANFIC DIRECTORY (status: September 22, 2024)

MULTI-CHAPTER:

Until I Get Home: Stuck in 1885 AU fic, focusing on Marty and Doc's relationship and how it evolves when exposed to various different circumstances during their time in the 19th century. Words: 100,100, 30 chapters. Status: Complete

Fourteen scraps of paper: Fic focusing on filling out the 30 years between 1955 and 1985 in the Lone Pine timeline. Words: 11,243, 5/18 chapters. Status: On hiatus (dunno whether I will pick it up again tbh...)

November: Smaller, slice of life fic set post-trilogy. Marty gets sick and Doc takes care of him. Words: 4,636, 3 chapters. Status: Complete

We Do Need Roads: Road Trip fic also set post-trilogy. Doc takes Marty on a road trip across the country after the latter graduates, which gives them a great oppurtunity to catch up. Words: 19,016 (estimated to be around 80K), chapters 5/20. Status: Work in progess

The Perils And The Promise: A rewrite of Jules Verne's "Around The World In 80 Days" with the BTTF characters in the main roles (man I love ridiculous AUs). Words: 57,111 37/37 chapters. Status: Complete

TRINITY TRILOGY

Three stories set in a universe in which Marty accidentally ended up trapped in the 1940s and follows Doc as he goes through the Manhattan Project and the years after. Together, the stories will take up around 135,000 words and 60 chapters. Hyperfixation has quite the power guys lmao

Most People Were Silent (45,352 words; complete)

A Few People Cried (45,024 words; complete)

A Few People Laughed (17,868 words; WIP!!)

ONESHOTS

Time Waits For No One: AU of BTTF 3 in which Marty comes down with pneumonia during the week in 1885. Words: 10,054

Flight Of Fancy: A character stufy of Doc, focusing on his relationship with science and the development of the flux capacitor. Words: 6,022

The Weight Of Us: A small "crossover" (is it really a crossover if it could be canon) with Oppenheimer (2023) in which 1940s Doc and Robert talk in August 1945. Words: 1,129

He Didn't Start The Fire: Prequel oneshot about Marty and Doc's early friendship days and how the teen reacts upon finding out that Doc worked on the Manhattan Project. Words: 5,459

Double Visions: Doc and Marty have a heart-to-heart after the events of BTTF: The Game. Words: 2,028

A Day At The I.F.T.: In a universe in which BTTF: The Ride is canon, Marty visits the institute of future technology. Words: 1,764

Time Heals All Wounds: Oneshot set in 1931. Young Emmett and Marty shenanigans. Words: 1,031

Nighttime Inn: Miitopia AU oneshot in which our hero Marty talkes to Great Sage Doc post-final battle. (have I meantioned I love ridiculous AUs)

Meet The Family: post-trilogy oneshot focusing on Marty's inner conflict about the whole Doc and Clara thing

[fussystreetlight]

(Remaking this post cause I realized I didn't want to reblog from these kinds of people even when I'm reacting to them but I think some context is necessary).

It's always dispiriting to see things like this. And to see, imo, obvious nonsense get so much attention, more attention than fanartists that are not only talented but genuinely kind.

And I know I could ignore this and that I'm giving it more attention. But for my own peace of mind I wanted to add some important amendments :

Be as weird as you want about Skully. Yana Toboso and the TWST developers want you to (so you'll spend money but still...)

If you're a weirdo the game was made for you. Enjoy it however you want.

The game and developers are weird about their own characters (they knew what they were doing especially with the Union Birthday card groovies).

He's a bunch of pixels programmed to be set at an semi-arbitrary number that was chosen cause it made sense for the story, not because he's supposed to represent a person. It's like sleeping with an inflatable doll that was only made a year ago. It's a doll, how long it's been in existence doesn't matter. A very obvious not real character is not comparable to or representative of a person.

Again, he's not real, his "age" doesn't matter because he's an object, and fiction is not a 1:1 reflection of reality. If someone likes him it doesn't mean they'll prey on an actual teen. The chances of there being a correlation are really small. People who assume it does and try to stop people from liking a character; that says more about you than what liking Skully says about the person who likes him. It's like someone finding a chip that looks like a person and then someone else eats it. You're not going to call that person a cannibal and assume they want to eat people, this is the same thing. It's not comparable to a sexual predator. Seriously, why are y'all obsessed with predators, why is it always on your mind? Y'all keep bringing them up in situations that had nothing to do with them, making things about them and seeing them everywhere, and assuming everyone you meet that isn't a clone of you is one. Why is this always the first place your mind goes to? If y'all saw someone reacting the same way about murderers you'd realize they need some help so why are y'all so lacking in self-awareness?

The fact that people were simping for him before his "age reveal" and after it should have driven home the fact that it's simply that people like how this object looks and is programmed to behave, not how long it's been manufactured. Also his voice actor is an adult, so it's more like an adult acting like a younger person, i.e. this is more like a form of age play between consenting adults than a sign that people want to prey on teens (of course if antis looked at things that way then they'd have to face the realization that they are not the valiant heroes they think they are so they won't).

This attitude is what kills fandoms and makes creators not want their stuff to leave their country. It wouldn't surprise me if TWST one day shuts down because of all these antis.

And considering every anti I've come across liked something that does the very same things they claim to hate, are made by people who support the fiction they claim to hate, or like the very things that they claim to hate, I just can't make myself believe they really care about morals or being good people. At this point I genuinely believe antis are either just looking for attention or need professional help but are unwilling to admit it. Or they want to hurt people. But really, why this unhealthy obsession with sexual predators and finding them?? Especially when the people and organizations whose job it is to find actual predators have asked them to stop reporting this stuff because it doesn't count. The line should be drawn when real giving beings are getting hurt. No one is getting hurt by this no matter how much antis like to roleplay victims. Let people have their harmless innocent fun.

[ukrfeminism]

Gathered around a wooden table in an unremarkable local council room in east London, ten men are sat side by side. They span a range of ages, ethnicities and social backgrounds; some are in sportswear while some are in smart work gear, like they’ve just left the office. But there’s one thing they all have in common — they have carried out domestic abuse. And they are here to try and change their behaviour. 

“Domestic abuse is a choice,” Mark*, the course leader tells them, as the two-hour session begins. “Not one in the thousands of men I have worked with are possessed by demons or aliens. If you can choose to be bad, you can choose to be good.”

This week’s session of the Spotlight Programme — one of several across the country aimed at stopping people inflicting violence and abuse on their partners — is looking at the repercussions domestic abuse has on children. Eight of the men have, at one time, been under a bail condition which prevented them from contacting their children. 

Mark, who has worked with dozens of male prisoners who have killed their partners and counselled many perpetrators in the wider community, is here to encourage the men to reflect on the consequences of their actions. As he puts it, the abusers’ choice of behaviour has denied their children access to their father.

“When you are abusing your child’s mum, you are abusing your child,” he tells the group, as he hits play on a video. “Does anyone want their sons to grow up and be sitting with me? Does anyone want their daughters to grow up and be abused?”

He then asks the men to say how they would feel if it was their mum experiencing domestic abuse. “I’d be mad, angry, I’d want revenge,” one man says. Another says he would feel upset. The list goes on.

The men who come to these sessions have carried out a range of abuse, from physical violence to psychological abuse, coercive control, financial abuse, and sexual violence, Mark tells The Independent after the session. 

But a common thread is the way they downplay violence and abuse, as well as dodging responsibility and deflecting blame. “When they first join the program, most of them are of the view that, yes, I did do dot dot but it’s because she did X, Y, Z,” he adds.

Examples of the abuse involve men blocking partners from contacting their families, raping partners and strangling them. He also tells the story of a man who regularly denied his partner her medication when she was desperately ill. 

“From how she dresses, who she sees, where she goes, who she talks to, to having to be home at 7pm every night — these are all very controlling behaviours and we come across them every single day,” he said.

The Spotlight Programme was launched in 2020, with referrals coming from the police and children’s services. Some 677 individuals have been referred between the scheme starting and April of this year.

Data supplied by the local council shows 92 per cent who completed the programme saw a decrease in police contact involving domestic abuse. Eight per cent of participants have dropped out of the programme and five per cent have been suspended.

A study, carried out by Durham and London Metropolitan universities back in 2015, found far fewer women reported being physically attacked after their partner went to a programme, with 61 per cent beforehand in comparison to two per cent afterwards.

But Mark also warns that not all men who join the Spotlight Programme are suitable. On some occasions, the more light that is shone on a perpetrator’s behaviour, the more they proactively perpetrate that abuse.

One man was taken off the programme due to frequently laughing at abuse in the group sessions. He also admitted to laughing at the thought of his wife’s face when he was raping her.

Despite this, Mark is adamant his scheme has the ability to change an abuser’s behaviour if they acknowledge there is a problem and they are committed to changing it.

In his view, it is ultimately a man’s belief system which means he thinks he has the right to control and dictate his partner’s life choices. “We help them to understand that: look, you don’t always have to like your partner’s choices’,” he adds. “But there are alternative ways to respond other than abuse and violence.”

But funding issues mean schemes like Spotlight — which is accredited by domestic abuse charity Respect — are at risk of being discontinued. Although they are funded from a variety of places, including local authorities and police and crime commissioners, the programmes have been hit by reduced funding from the Home Office and the Ministry of Justice.

Jas Athwal, a local councillor in Redbridge, said Spotlight’s government funding came to an end in March this year as he explained they “desperately need” the money to continue. They are currently using local council money to pay for the scheme. “This is one of those things you can’t walk away from because this is going to have a real impact on a child’s life, on a victim’s life, on a family’s life.”

Mark’s course in Redbridge is one of just three accredited courses left in London, while there are 35 such schemes across the UK. But Caroline Bernard, a spokesperson for Respect, told The Independent the removal of funding has lead to a reduction in risk management or feedback and resulted in Respect telling schemes for perpetrators not to take on these cases as it is dangerous to do so.

Ms Bernard warned the slashing of funding has meant “the entire system has broken down” and that there are a “high number” of perpetrators who cannot access the schemes. 

“Ultimately, the lack of access to these programmes is putting the safety of domestic abuse survivors, and their children, at risk,” she said. 

The world’s first perpetrator programme took place in Deluth in Minnesota in the US in 1980, with other programmes modelling themselves on the scheme since then, Ippo Panteloudakis, head of services at Respect, said. The first perpetrator programme was launched in the UK in 1989. 

But perpetrator programmes are not free from controversy and many who work in the domestic abuse sector are sceptical of the schemes.

“We think they have a role to play but we are cautious about them,” Ellie Butt, of domestic abuse charity Refuge, says. “The evidence base is limited. There is evidence for some people they reduce some of the abuse. While we think that has a role, we don’t want to send a message to survivors that they should have to tolerate any abuse or slightly less severe abuse.”

She also warned perpetrators are “adept at manipulating systems and manipulating professionals and continuing abuse” as she noted many abuse multiple victims.

“They are not a solution in and of themselves. We still need a much better criminal justice response than we have and better services for survivors. They are not a silver bullet,” she said. 

For Paul*, a 36-year-old painter and decorator who lives in London, the Spotlight Programme helped change his behaviour towards his partner. He was arrested and investigated for perpetrating coercive control. 

“I’d become very overprotective of her... I had become smothering,” he said. “I was constantly monitoring where she was and wanting to know when she would be home. I would bombard her with text messages and phone calls. It wasn’t verbal abuse, it was more ‘where are you? Have you left me?’”

But Paul, who has three children with his partner, states his “whole attitude to everything has changed” since taking part in the programme in August last year.

“It has changed my life,” he adds. “I don’t jump in feet first - I judge the situation slowly and calmly. She has noticed a change in me. She has a bit more trust in me now. I leave her to live her life in peace now.”

A Ministry of Justice spokesperson said: “The safety of children who have experienced domestic abuse is vital and we are currently reviewing the role of interventions in the private family court. 

“This includes working with experts, including in the domestic abuse sector, to consider what interventions the family court can most effectively provide in these cases.”

*Names have been changed to protect identities

[denimbex1986]

'It's almost a cliché, but the locations in Netflix's Ripley are like characters in the action.

The limited series adapts Patricia Highsmith's novel The Talented Mr Ripley and moves from New York City to a flurry of locations across Italy set in the early 1960s.

The story follows American con artist Tom Riley (Andrew Scott) as he is tasked with heading to Italy to bring home an old acquaintance and a wayward scion of a shipping dynasty, Dickie Greenleaf (Johnny Flynn), now living a relaxed life away from his family responsibilities as a carefree painter.

Actress Dakota Fanning, who portrays Dickie's girlfriend Marge Sherwood in the series, told Netflix: "We were filming in so many of the most beautiful cities in the world; Rome, Venice, Capri, the Amalfi Coast. Naples had its own grit and electricity.

"It’s interesting because I do think that the show portrays the country in a different way than most people have seen Italy."

Where was Ripley filmed? Stunning locations from gorgeous Netflix series

New York City, New York, USA

One of the most iconic cities in the world, New York City is the location for much of the premiere episode of Ripley, as we follow Tom Ripley's hand-to-mouth existence in the sprawling metropolis - which feels all the more oppressive in the almost gothic black-and-white.

Atrani, Italy

Atrani is the setting of multiple episodes in the series, as this is where Dickie and Marge live in Italy. The small city on the Amalfi Coast in the province of Salerno is in the Campania region of south-western Italy. The area today has a population of around 900 people.

The winding steps and mountainous exteriors make it a visually stunning backdrop.

Production designer David Gropman told Netflix: "It was just the incredible geography of that town, the relationship of the main square to the beach, all of those unbelievable paths, that maze of stairs and corridors through the mountain."

The location provided the production with space for Marge's home and Ripley's hotel room in the village too.

Capri, Italy

The setting of Dickie Greenleaf's villa was not filmed in Atrani, despite it being set there. Instead, this was filmed on the glamorous Italian island of Capri.

The island is legendary for being the home of Emperor Tiberius during his retirement from Ancient Roman politics.

In recent decades, Capri has continued to be legendary as a holiday destination for the rich and famous.

Rome, Italy

The main location of the action from episodes 4 to 6 of the series, the ancient capital city of Italy and the previous centre of the Roman Empire means the city is brimming with ancient architecture and cobbled streets that are as old as time.

Here, Tom Ripley begins to build a new life with a new name, but it is also where further crimes occur and everything threatens to unravel.

Palermo, Sicily, Italy

The medieval streets and numerous statues of the capital of the Italian island of Sicily, Palermo, are a key feature of the seventh episode in the series, which sees Tom Ripley hiding out in Southern Italian territory.

Recently showcased on the HBO series The White Lotus, Palermo also provides a location brimming with uncertainty, as Tom Ripley moves through the city with fear of being watched by authorities - and he's wise to worry.

Venice, Italy

The principal location for the finale episode, few places in the world are as romantic or as iconic as Venice.

Brimming with canals and the absence of automobiles, Venice has not much changed from the time of Tom Ripley.

Its medieval magnificence but inevitable doom to sink beneath the waters only adds to its romanticism, making it the perfect site for the show's climax.'

[sequinsmile-x]

Berēafian

It was times like this that Emily truly wondered what she did this for, why she worked so hard when there was always another monster to catch, always something else horrific she could add to her list of things she’d seen that most people couldn’t even come up with in their worst nightmares.

-x-

Another angst filled, hurt-comfort offering from me that was born out of my insomnia.

-x-

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: none!

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It’s silent as they enter their hotel room apart from the click of the lock, followed by the deadbolt as Aaron slides it across.

Emily takes a moment to blow out a steady breath, aware that the walls she’d spent all day carefully reinforcing would begin to crumble now they were alone. She walks over to the bed and sits on the edge of it, her elbows on her knees as she leans forward.

“Sweetheart…” Aaron starts, but he drifts off before he asks her if she’s ok, because he knows she isn’t. He isn’t either, the weight of the day, of what they’d had to do enough to crush his chest.

“I’m ok,” she replies, knowing him well enough to understand what he hadn’t said. She looks up from where her eyes had been fixed on the floor, the strange pattern on the hotel room carpet enough to briefly distract her. She smiles tightly at him, her lips set in a grim line. “Long day.”

“Yeah,” he replies, walking over to join her, “Long day.”

Cases where the victims were children were always hard, creating a desperation in the team that was rarely matched by other cases. They’d been in Idaho for five days trying to find the unsub, and the last two days trying to rescue the latest victim, snatched from outside his home. Emily had been assigned to work with the mother, something she was sure Aaron had done to save her from constantly staring at the photos from the other crime scenes. Usually, she’d call him out on it, insisting that she didn’t need protecting, but this time she was silently grateful.

There was something about this case, about how the unsub had taken the kids he had chosen from plain sight, that had set her on edge. Reminding her that no matter what she did, even with all the knowledge she had, all the things she had seen, she wouldn’t always be able to rescue her children.

Her mind kept drifting back to Jack and Lexie, being cared for by Jessica on the other side of the country. Jack knew all of the different ways to ask for help, and never to walk off with strangers. And Emily rarely took her eyes off of Lexie if they were out and about, the two-year-old’s curiosity enough to make her wonder off at times.

She thought of them as she stood in the latest victim’s mother’s house, Aaron by her side, as she explained that they hadn’t been able to save her son. They’d caught the guy who’d done it, arriving only an hour or so too late, and it was something Emily knew they’d all live with for a long time.

Although, she knew it would be nowhere near as long as the boy’s mother would, her life forever changed.

She’d insisted on going to see him despite Emily’s advice that due to the injuries he’d incurred she didn’t advise it, but the other woman had persevered. Emily and Aaron had gone with her, despite Aaron offering to do it alone, standing in silent company just outside of the room in the mortuary, the sound of the mother’s grief still echoing around their heads.

Emily rests her head on Aaron’s shoulder, wordlessly seeking out his comfort, and he presses a kiss to her temple. She closes her eyes, slowly blowing out a breath as if she was trying to rid her lungs of the grief she had stuffed into them. Full to the brim with everything she couldn’t feel, everything she had taken on as she stood on the opposite side of a thin wall as a woman said goodbye to her son.

She knew that’s the role she’d always have in her story. That she’d always be the person who delivered her the heartbreaking news. The knowledge of it tasted like poison, enough to make her feel nauseous.

“Would you want to do it?” Aaron asks, the question breaking free without him meaning it to.

“Would I want to do what?” She asks, lifting her head to look at him, his words drawing her out of her thoughts.

“If it was one of the kids…would you want to see them?”

He regrets it the moment he asks, the look of hurt, of devastation, that flashes across her face enough to make him wish he could take it back. She recoils from him slightly, putting more room between them, her mouth falling open in something close to horror or shock. It’s as if she’s seeing it. Jack or Lexie in the place of the young boy they’d found that afternoon. Her in the place of the mother they’d tried to save from that image.

He opens his mouth to apologise, but she cuts him off, standing abruptly as she wraps her arms around herself, starting to pace the room.

“God, Aaron. How can you even fucking ask me that?” She snaps, her voice cracking as she does so, her ability to hide how she felt from him a thing of her past. Her desire to hide how she felt from him was long gone too. She sighs, and shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the image that had been in her head anyway, only further solidified by her husband’s question. A grim, blurry film reel brought immediately into brilliant technicolour, something she knew she would see when she closed her eyes. She doesn’t want to be mad at him, but she can feel everything she’d pushed down throughout this awful case reaching boiling point, and she knows she’s close to taking it out on him.

His love for her made him an easy target in moments like this, because she knew she could be unreasonable, that she could yell and curse and he’d know it wasn’t really about him. And he’d still love her afterwards. But she knows he’s suffering too, can see it in the tension of his jaw, the sheen to his eyes, and she doesn’t want to burden him.

She sighs and swallows thickly before she speaks again, her voice less harsh now, more measured. “Can we just…go to bed? Try and forget what happened today?”

He wants to talk about it, wants to say everything he’d been thinking all day, but he can see that she’s hanging on by a thread, fraying in front of him as the nervous energy flows from her like a bitter perfume. He knows the only thing that will make her feel better is to see the kids. To hug Jack, to have Lexie fall asleep on her. And he can’t give her that until they fly home in the morning, so he can give her this, the space she needs.

Aaron nods and she gives him a tight smile before walking to the bathroom, wordlessly grabbing her pyjamas from the bed.

She closes the door and closes her eyes, taking a couple of seconds to ground herself before she moves away from it. Emily grimaces as she looks at herself in the mirror, the bags under her eyes feeling as if they physically deepen as she takes in her appearance.

Their time in Idaho had been long and draining. Very little sleep, too much caffeine and absolutely not enough time to speak to her own children over the phone. To hear Jack’s voice as he spoke quickly and excitedly about his latest project from school or Lexie’s toddler babble that only Emily, Aaron and Jack seemed to fully understand. They’d had fleeting moments to speak to them over the last few days, channelling all of their time into rescuing someone else's child, time that had ended up amounting to nothing except grief for everyone involved.

It was times like this that Emily truly wondered what she did this for, why she worked so hard when there was always another monster to catch, always something else horrific she could add to her list of things she’d seen that most people couldn’t even come up with in their worst nightmares. It made their efforts, everything she’d dedicated her life to, time away from her children to, feel pointless. A flash in the pan.

She shakes her head at herself in the mirror, “Get it together, Prentiss,” she mutters, before going about her nightly routine. She carefully takes off her make-up and brushes her teeth, hives herself as much alone time as she can so she can give Aaron the same. She changes into her pyjamas, made up of a t-shirt that used to belong to him and a pair of flannel pants, and she walks back out into the bedroom.

She’d expected to find him in his pyjamas, that he’d have stood up as the door opened like he usually did, ready to pass her in the doorway, a quick kiss against her lips or forehead as he told her to get into bed, that he’d join her in a couple of minutes. But he’s exactly where he was when she walked into the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the bed hunched over his phone. She doesn’t have to see the screen to know what he’s looking at, the sound of their daughter’s laughter, chased by Jack’s, is loud in the otherwise quiet hotel room.

It was a video from a weekend when they’d taken the kids to the beach over the summer. Emily had recorded the footage herself, watching from a few feet away as Jack and Lexie took turns pouring little pails of water over Aaron as he sat on the shoreline. Lexie had started it, toddling towards him with the implement she’d just been building sandcastles with and finding it hilarious as she poured water over her father. It had soon turned into a game, one Aaron took in his stride, an amused smile on his face as he took in the innocence of his children.

He watched it whenever he needed reminding that happiness like that, one moment out of many they had as a family captured, existed.

Any previous frustration she’d felt at him, or anger for the question he’d asked her, disappears, her shoulders practically sagging as she feels it drain out of her. She walks over to the bed and stands in front of him, but he doesn’t look up, his eyes still fixed on the screen even though the video has ended, a still of Jack and Lexie staring up at him. Emily takes the phone from him and places it on the bed, before she tugs him forward, his forehead pressing into her abdomen as she pulls him into a wordless hug.

Aaron breathes in the scent of her, the scent of home that seemed to follow her everywhere. He wraps his arms tightly around her and brings her closer until she’s standing between his legs. She wraps her arms around his head, her fingers trailing through his hair. Blunt nails against his scalp that never failed to bring him comfort, a sensation he had fallen asleep to many times over the years they’d been together.

She leans down and kisses the top of his head, “Yes,” she says, pulling back to look at him, his face framed in her hands, “If it was…” she drifts off, clearing her throat as she’s unable to say it, not wanting to give her brain the chance to make her inevitable nightmares even more realistic, “I’d go see them.” She smiles sadly at him, a humourless chuckle escaping her before she can stop it, her eyes filling with tears she didn’t want to shed, “Because otherwise, I’d see them in every case we’ve ever worked. Which…I do anyway, but it would be real. So I’d have to know.”

Aaron closes his eyes briefly before he turns his head to kiss one of her palms, muttering an apology against her skin that makes her shake her head, a look in her eyes that lets him know she doesn’t want to hear it. Doesn’t need to. She understood him in a way very few people had ever bothered to figure out or learn, as if he was her own personal puzzle to solve.

These days he always gave her all the pieces willingly, guiding her to put them into place because no one else could make him feel better like she could.

“I’d have to know too,” he replies, and he stands up, pulling her into a hug he knows she needs, confirmed by the way she melts into him, her weight pressed into his embrace, “I’m sorry,” he says, even though he knows she doesn’t need it, and she shakes her head against him, her lips against his neck.

“Me too,” she replies, sniffing as she pulls back from her, her smile sad and trembling as she feels one of the tears she’d been fighting break free. He doesn’t give it the chance to get very far, removing one of his hands from her back to wipe it away. “It’s been one of those cases.”

Aaron nods and sighs deeply, “Recently it feels like every case has been one of those cases.”

She knew he was thinking about leaving the BAU, potentially the bureau altogether. It was a conversation they’d had more than once over recent months. It hadn’t gone any further than a look in his eyes she caught every time there was a case like this, one they both knew would leave a mark behind. Just as permanent as the ones they both had scattered across their skin, but not visible. She knew right this second, given the chance, he’d quit.

It was something he’d mentioned for the first time when she was pregnant with Lexie, and had brought up occasionally ever since. At first, it was a fantasy, both of them aware that he was far too dedicated to his job to do it, and so was she. But she saw more realism in it as time went on, more acceptance in his eyes as he spoke about it.

It would be a big change for all of them, and she worried what the team would say since change had never been something they’d taken to well, but she knew now wasn’t the time to figure it all out.

“Let’s talk about it when we get home, ok?” She says without having to explain she knew what he was talking about, offering him a comforting smile, “We’ll spend some time with the kids, sleep in our own bed,” she pushes some of his hair off of his forehead and idly thinks she needs to book them all haircuts soon, a flash of a domestic life in amongst the day to day chaos, “You’re always the one to tell me that things always look better after some time.”

Aaron nods and leans forward to kiss her, “Ok. We’ll talk about it.”

She smiles at him, “Good, now go and get ready for bed,” she kisses him once more before stepping back from him, “And when you get back we’ll watch the video of Lex taking her first steps.”

He smiles properly this time, and it makes her chest bloom with warmth, with happiness, for the first time in days.

“Back in a minute, sweetheart,” he says, taking the effort to kiss her forehead before he walks towards the bathroom.

Emily blows out a breath the second she’s alone, and she grabs her phone before getting into bed. She smiles at the wallpaper, a photo of the two of them and the kids, before she goes past it, on the hunt for photos and videos she knows will cheer them both up. Snapshots of the life they had once both thought would be impossible.

-x-

Tag list:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @sneetchestoo, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex

Join my tag list here!