#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

[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.

[ladylooch]

Bones - Part 4 [Mack x David]

A/N: *inhales and exhales heavily* Here we go.

I'm sorry...... & good luck. Would love it if you came to talk to me in my asks about this one.

Word Count: 5.1k

Rangers Looking To Make Moves, David Carlson could be one of them.

Insider Sources Hint at Huge Deal Between Stars and Rangers.

Rangers In Search Of Forward Depth: Potential Move Involving David Carlson?

“Mack? Ready in about five?” Her editor, Sonja, asks as she power walks by Mack’s cubicle. 

“Yep.” Mack answers back absentmindedly. She is currently scrolling through her newsfeed, scanning the ballooning elephant of David’s trade rumors. 

Mack tried to talk herself out of looking, but she hasn’t been able to put her phone away. Social media is a dangerous drug. Mack considers herself an expert navigator, but these rumors involve her life outside of 280 characters. The line between reality and rumor has begun to blur. While this happens in her brain, David says nothing. He probably has his reasons, but Mack can’t help but feel betrayed. Why isn’t he talking to her about this? Doesn’t he trust her? This feels like something they should be talking about, even Lucie said as much at breakfast last week.

Mack finishes reading over the comments of speculation. The rumors seem to be trending towards Dallas or Seattle. Mack’s stomach drops out when she realizes how far away both those options are.

“Ready?” Andrew, her colleague asks. Mack nods, putting her phone into her desk and gathering her notebook. The entire walk to the glass enclosed conference room, Mack tries to shed her personal life. Normally, she steps over that threshold and she can become whoever she needs to be to tell a story. Not today.

Today, Mack is quiet, listening to her team members add productive discussion for next quarters issues. Several locations are floated around that should make Mack excited and jumping to go for them. None of them do. Instead, she finds her focus trailing out the window to the building across the street. The world moves around her, but Mack feels stuck in place. Her least favorite thing.

“Mack, how is your hand not up?” Cecilia, another team member, asks. Mack turns back to her.

“What? Sorry?” Mack’s eyes divert to Sonja who looks back at Mack with a neutral face.

“Would you like to volunteer for Ireland?” Sonja repeats.

Mack has been dying to go to Ireland. There is so much to do there, so many different directions she could take her story, and although she has lived in and traveled all over Europe, she hasn’t made it there yet. She is constantly chatting with her coworkers about how she wants to do a story there. But now her hand stays in her lap. How could she leave the country with it being such tumultuous times at home? What if she leaves and David is traded? Coming back to New York and him not being here would slice her open. 

“When?” 

“Three weeks, but you could go as early as Thursday if you want more exploring time.”

“Oh. Um.” She anxiously rubs at her thighs. “I-”

“You could go after Cabo too.” Sonja answers. Cabo is the Allstar trip she has put together for the Rangers with recommendations from her colleagues. Everything is scheduled including a huge house right on the water. It has multiple pools, a hot tub, a private beach, and exclusive access to the Yacht club. 

“I’m gonna have to say no.” She hears herself say. WHAT!?She shakes off her inner demon who wants to launch a ‘just kidding’. Her whole team looks back at her with surprise. “I just need to stick around here right now. If that’s okay? I’ll take something close.” 

“We have that story on hidden gems in America? A lot of them are on the East Coast. Easily day trips.”

“Yeah, that sounds great!” Mack answers with enthusiasm she doesn’t actually feel.

The meeting moves on, but Mack can’t. Did she really just turn down Ireland for New Hampshire? With everyone’s assignments in hand, the meeting ends. Again, Mack is slow to react. Sonja stays behind.

“Are you okay?” She asks when it’s only the two of them. “You are not yourself.”

“I am a bit distracted.” 

“Anything I can help with?”

“Nope. Thanks for letting me stick around though.” Sonja laughs, shrugging.

“Something is definitely up if you’re missing out on Ireland. Let me know how I can support you, okay?”

Mack nods then Sonja power walks off to her next meeting. After swiping her phone from her drawer, Mack avoids sitting down at her cubical and heads straight to the bathroom at the back of the office. She walks into the last stall, letting her back hit the cool tile. Mack’s head finds her hands, awkwardly shoving her nose to the side due to her phone.

What the hell is happening to me?

Her phone starts to vibrate against her face. She pulls back, seeing David’s picture.

“Hello?” She answers quickly.

“Hi, are you home?”

“No.” Worry settles into her voice.

“Oh okay, no worries. I left my wallet at your place. Just figured it out, now Woody is buying me lunch.” He chuckles. 

“Oh, you can go grab it after lunch?”

“Okay, can I wait for you to get home too? Kinda miss ya.” 

“Yeah.” Mack smiles to herself. 

“I’ll take a look at your bathroom sink too. The water pressure is horseshit.”

“I put in a maintenance request.”

“Why? They didn’t fix it right last time? I hope they come up while I’m working on it so I can teach them what to do.”

“Please don’t.” Mack sighs, but she can’t help a little giggle.

“When will you be home?” He asks her. Mack can hear traffic whizzing by him as he presumably walks along a sidewalk.

“Probably a few hours.” She mumbles. 

“Alright. I’ll entertain myself.” He assures her.

When Mack gets home, she realizes that means he cleaned her entire apartment, fixed her sink, and has dinner in the oven. 

“Wow…” Mack trails off as she walks in. She puts her work bag on the counter and smiles at him by the stove. “Thank you. I haven’t had much time to clean.” She murmurs.

“I know.” He nods, toweling off his hands with the one over this shoulder. “I’ve been keeping you at my place a lot. I figure if I created the problem, I should clean it up.” He puckers his lips for her. “Hi.” He greets her after their kiss.

“Hi.” She smiles. It doesn’t quite brighten up her face or reach her eyes, which David takes notice of.

“You okay?” He tilts his head at her.

“Yeah. Tired.” She lies. 

Well, maybe not fully. She is tired, but the things that are keeping her up at night are things she could be discussing with him. Yet, Mack believes that if he wanted to talk to her about any of this, he would have already. She swallows hard, trying to will the anxious energy in her body away. David’s hands on her hips hold her in place when she tries to move around him. 

“I’m not believing that.” He smiles sympathetically. “But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.” Mack nods. She brushes her hand over his stomach as she walks past. She heads to the fridge to grab a sparkling water from inside. David watches her as she cracks the cap open, taking down a few gulps. She hiccups as she pulls the bottle down from her lips. “Why don’t you go change? That outfit looks great, but you should be comfy with the weather we are having.” He points to the window where sheets of snow fall down. 

“Oh that escalated.” Mack murmurs. She walks to the window, looking out at the droves of swirling snow flakes. She sighs, happy to be in here watching it than still commuting home.

“Mack.” David calls softly to her. She looks over her shoulder at him. “Go.” He encourages her, head tilted towards the hallway. She nods again, doing as he asks and wandering down to her bedroom. 

She knows she is spacey and acting weird. But she isn’t quite sure how to act with him right now. A giant elephant is sitting on her chest and he is behaving like everything is normal. Mack quickly changes into a soft sweatsuit in a sage color. She pulls her hair back into a pony tail, then pulls on new, warm socks with reindeer faces on them that her mom put into her Christmas stocking.  When she walks into the main area again, the TV is playing local news. The sports section is on but it rolls through without any mention of David, other than his goal a few nights ago, the last time the team played.

“It’s weird you’ve had so many days off.” Mack says, leaning against the counter by the bar stools. 

“Yeah. I hate it.” David shakes his head. He pulls the towel off his shoulder, tossing it onto the counter.

“What are we having?”

“Spatchcock chicken and asparagus.”

“Fancy.” Mack smiles at him. He stares back at her. 

“Why are you over there? C’mere.”

“You’re so sensitive today.” Mack rolls her eyes. “If you wanna cuddle just ask. No need to get grumpy that I’m standing across the room from you.” She tries to keep her tone light, but it’s a little snippy.

“Kay, get over here I want to cuddle.” He begrudges. Him and Mack both know she is deflecting. She doesn’t want him looking at her too closely right now.

Mack walks across the kitchen, sliding her arms around his waist. David crushes her into his chest and she can’t help but melt into him. Her shoulders drop, jaw unclenches, and mind quiets completely. The trade rumors dissipate. The worry about what could happen to them floats away. It’s just the two of them holding each other in her kitchen. David’s hand smooths over her pony tail, then begins to rub long strokes up and down her back. Mack turns her nose more into his chest. David tightens his grip on her, then drops his mouth to her hair.

It’s clear they both needed this hug. 

They don’t break away until the timer for the chicken goes off. David pulls it out. As it rests, he roasts the asparagus. Mack puts together a salad with leftover vegetables in the fridge. Then they sit down and eat dinner together with a glass of wine each. When it’s over, Mack and David move through the apartment in sync, cleaning up the main space. As the dishwasher roars to life, Mack flips all the lights off and takes David’s hand to lead him down to her room. 

There, they make love to each other. It’s soft and slow, filled with gentle smooches and quiet moans of pleasure. Afterwards, they tangle their limbs together. David falls asleep first, surprising to Mack. She studies his face as he sleeps, seeing the lines on his face soften in his slumber. With David out, a familiar monster begins to awaken inside of her. 

It comes out in the quiet, darkness of night. It confuses her and brings back all the things that had melted away when she was in David’s arms. A huge lump fills her throat. She rolls over to her other side. Doing so makes David’s hand fall off her hip. A cold shiver rolls through Mack as she buries her nose into the pillow case beneath her face. 

During sex tonight, David had murmured really sweet things to her. He told her he loved her. He told her how beautiful she looked today. He told her how much he missed her while they ran through their different, separate days, that the world gets quiet when she is in his arms. But he didn’t say anything about the rumors that swirl around him in his professional life. Every time he has an opportunity to tell her and he doesn’t, Mack can feel herself retreat a little more. 

Right before he drifted to sleep, David had sleepily murmured that he couldn’t wait until they find a place together. The memory of that now has a single tear dragging down Mack’s cheek.

Because for the first time, she doesn’t feel like her and David are on the same page. He is already thinking about them moving in together. She’s never thought of that. She’s never thought of anything beyond the current day with him. Now he sees a future for them that Mack isn’t sure she wants this way. A future outside of New York isn’t of interest to her. If David isn’t in New York, there is nothing tying them together anymore, therefore if he leaves New York nothing ties him to her anymore. 

Meanwhile, she has stupidly turned down assignments to stay with him. Her brain is consumed of thoughts of him even when she is away. Panic begins to thread through Mack’s body. She’s too in love with him. This is all way more than she signed up for. She never wanted this. He’s changed her entire life and she went along with it.

How could she have let this happen? How could she have let it go this far?

Mack rolls to her back, staring up at the ceiling. Tears race from the corners of her eyes, falling into her ear canals. This has gone too far. She can’t do this with him. With perfect timing as always, her monster starts to whisper:

You’ll never be able to keep him. You can’t pretend all the time to be good enough for him anyway.

Mack shudders at the words that slice deep into her soul. She wipes her tears then wills herself to sleep. 

In the morning, this will all look different. She is sure of that. 

Long before the sunlight streams into her room, David awakens her to make love again. He is above her, dragging his cock through her core with soft strokes that set her on fire. When she shudders through her orgasm, he fills her up with his own, then collapses into the bed next to her. As his breathing evens out, he brings her into his side, holding her close to him.

“I’m excited about our future.” David murmurs, fingers getting slower. “We’re gonna give Lucie and Connor a run for their money.” He kisses the top of her head. 

Guilt swirls through Mack’s body. 

David continues planning for a future with her while she is choking in fight or flight. 

A tear slides silently down her cheek. David’s soft breathing behind her tells her he has fallen back to sleep. 

Mack blinks more tears down her cheeks, bottom lip trembling.

He deserves so much better than this. So much better than her. Those words are no longer the dark monster from before. Instead they’re just the truth.

And she’s going to make sure he is free to find what he deserves.

In his arms, attempting to memorize his touch, she starts to make her plans. The Ireland assignment comes to mind.

On Thursday, she’ll go there. Do what she was always going to do.

Run.

Or fly… like the humming bird he compares her to.

He won’t be surprised. He’ll be hurt, sure. But he’ll move on. He has to.

She tells herself this is all for his freedom. 

But deep down, the monster reminders her its for her own.

- - - & - - -

(David)

On Thursday, David looks down at the burger he ordered, mouth salivating at the big, half pound patty dripping cheese and bacon grease. Now this is a damn burger. One he might even find in his home state. Props to the place for sticking to the owner’s midwestern roots. He assess the sandwich, deciding two hands on this one would probably be best.

“That looks fire.” Connor murmurs. He opted for a French Dip sandwich and fries. 

Between the two of them, there isn’t a green vegetable in sight. 

“I’m going to crush this.” David confirms. He unrolls his silverware set, putting the napkin in his lap just in case some drippage misses his plate. Connor does the same.

“I’m so excited to have beef. Haven’t been able to have it at home since…” Connor trails off. David raises an eyebrow. Connor grins then shakes his head. “I can’t tell ya.”

“Slut.”

“Can’t get enough of her, man. Don’t act like you don’t get it.” 

David smirks. He does get it. In fact, he almost cancelled on this lunch so he could stay home and bury himself between Mack’s thighs again and again. But Mack said she had to get some work done, so here he is for the second time in two days eating lunch with his D partner. Mack and David had transitioned over to his place last night to meet up with the Woods. He loves that she is comfortable working from his place when he isn’t there.

David swipes a tater tot through some ketchup then pops it into his mouth. He hopes by the time he gets home Mack is doing better. She was weird when he left this morning, weird last night too. He is glad they have some time together before he goes on the road this weekend. Mack has an assignment in New York that is keeping her home with him during that time. All he wants to do is go to the rink, order glutinous take out and fuck. 

Connor hulks down a huge bite of his sandwich as David digs into his burger. He needs his napkin immediately, swiping it across his covered lips. 

“So how you doing with everything, man?” 

David swallows.

“What do you mean?” He asks, then goes in for a second bite.

“With the rumors.”

“Oh. I’m not listen.” David dismisses. “I can’t worry about that shit and play. It’s too hard.”

“Yeah, I get it. I was the same. Where are you at with your contract?”

“Doug said we would talk about it after the season. My agent doesn’t think here is any concern. It’s not like I’m gonna ask for the bank.”

“No, but get what you’re worth. I need you around here with me. Can’t handle the Hischier girls by myself.” David chuckles. Silence fills the space between them as they both take a few more bites. “How is Mack taking it all?”

David pauses mid-chew. He shakes his head slightly, then answers when he swallows.

“We haven’t talked about it since none of it is true.”

Connor looks up quickly from his fries. They hover in his pile of ketchup as alarming blue eyes look across the table at David.

“Yeah, but you warned her and everything right?”

David’s tongue runs along his back molars as an awkward silence fills the table.

No, he didn’t.

“I mean, no? She knows that shit out there isn’t true.”

“Sure, but you told her that right?” Connor clarifies, pointing at the center of David’s chest.

David stares back at his defensive partner. Slowly, Connor’s mouth falls into a cringe.

“That is not the person to leave in the dark on those rumors, man.”

As if Connor’s words are the final puzzle, it all clicks for David. The way Mack was this morning. How she turned away from him immediately after sex last night. How quiet she has been, almost to the point of calculated. His heart hammers to a stop in his chest then a big intake of air raises his huge shoulders.

“Oh FUCK!” He yells. 

She’s running.

He knows it and the awareness cools his blood, sending a chill down his spine.

“What?” Connor asks, concern etching his brows together.

“She wanted me to go to lunch with you so she can run. I’ve gotta go, Woody.”

In a calmer moment, David would pull out his wallet and throw down a few bills. But a glance at his phone tells him he doesn’t have time. He’s been gone for over a half hour. She might already be packed and he’s gotta stop her. His long, athletic stride carries him the five blocks back to his place. He rushes by Philip without a greeting, then pounds the up button on the elevator.

“Come on!” He shouts when it takes too long. He eyes the stairwell, but his heart might explode if he runs up all those flights of stairs. The doors open and he almost barrels over a couple and their kid as he rushes in. “Sorry.” He mumbles, pushing the button for his floor, then the ‘close door’ one repeatedly until it does. He bounces on his feet, heart pounding in his ears as he attempts to catch his breath. The doors open, he flies into the hallway, not seeing her. He tries the door on his place and finds it open. 

Fuck, he hopes she is still here. 

“Mack!” He yells. 

No answer. 

His sneakers slap hard against the wood floors as he heads down the hallway. He can see her pony tail floating in the doorway. Instant relief flowing through him.

She’s still here. 

His relief is short lived when he walks forward and sees her packed suitcase on the bed.

- - - & - - -

(Mack)

Mack is zipping up her suitcase when she hears the apartment door open. Her gaze snaps to the doorway. David’s hurried foot steps rush down the hallway. She frowns, then goes back to stuffing her phone charger into the side pocket. This is not ideal, but she planned for it. She is ready for this interaction. Ready for him to beg her to stay here with him and prepared with an army of reasons why they are never going to work, now or in the future. 

“Mack, stop packing.” He calls to her from the hallway. Mack freezes. Of course he already knows. She keeps going, putting the suitcase on its wheels. They meet at the door of his bedroom. “Babe, I’m not going anywhere. I talked to management. None of this is real. I’m not being traded.” Disappointment has Mack sighing internally. She wishes he had told her this days ago.

“Okay.” Mack shrugs, keeping a blank face. David frowns. His eyes move to the right, looking over his room. Every single thing of hers is gone, down to the collection of hair ties on her side of the bed. “I’m heading out of town for awhile on a long assignment. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” David chews on the inside of his cheek, searching her face. He shakes his head slightly, looking confused and hurt.

“Mack, what are you doing?”

“I’m packing.” She swallows hard, hating the way her voice wobbles slightly.

“You’re going out of town. Why do you need your house slippers?” He motions to where they used to sit by the door.

“Because I want them at my place.”

“So, you going out of town means you aren’t going to keep anything here either?”

“I don’t see the point to that.” Mack shrugs. “Like I said, I am heading out on a long assignment. I’m going to be gone for awhile. I’m not sure when I will be back, so I’m taking everything with me.” 

“What?” He questions. “Where are you going?”

“Ireland.”

“Since when? You just told me two nights ago you were here in New York through the Allstar break, and suddenly you’re leaving for an undetermined amount of time?”

“Yeah. That’s this business.” She says flatly, unemotional. David shakes his head.

“What is happening?” He whispers, getting closer to her. He reaches out for her cheek and Mack immediately pulls away. “Is this about a few nights ago? I didn’t mean-“

“No. It’s not. But that was a reminder to me how… different we are. And I think we should be realistic about our shelf life.” David’s eyebrows furrow together. That hurt him. Mack looks away, not wanting to see the sting on his face.

This is inevitable, the monster reminds herself. She’s just pulling the plug before they go back to hating each other and make this harder for everyone around them.

“Shelf life?” He sighs heavily, stepping aside for her to pass by him. He is hot on her heels into the main area of his place. “What the fuck, Mack? We love each other.” 

“For now.” She shrugs her shoulder, going to her purse and double checking she grabbed everything she needed from the main area. She finds her water bottle and phone where she put them a few minutes ago. She’s officially packed. Mack grabs the key to his place, trying to ignoring the light up, corn key chain and the way it burns her skin in her hand. “I can give you your key back.”

“Stop.” David snaps, enclosing her hand with his. He grabs the keys out of her hands. He shakes his head, looking at her, panic all over his face. “Just…” He licks his lips, looking out at the city. “Talk to me.” 

“I am. You don’t like what I’m saying.” She retorts. 

“I don’t understand what you’re saying. We literally had an incredible night and I make a comment about how I’m excited to move in together someday, and you’re running now? What are you afraid of?” He emphasizes the last line at her, pausing with his hands out to the side. The Iowa keychain in his hand is blinking red, green and blue. Mack stares at it, pursing her lips. A huge lump swells in her throat. She tries to swallow but can’t. 

“I just don’t think this is going to work.”

“What?”

“You and me. So I think we should.” She moves her hands apart. “Go in different directions.” 

Stunned, David straightens. He blinks, trying to absorb the blow of her words. He runs the hand without her keys in it through his hair then blows out a heavy sigh. His hand roughly rubs at the stubble from where he shaved his beard off yesterday, leaving only his signature mustache. Mack blinks off the slight hitch of his breathing on the inhale. 

“Okay.” He nods his head, taking another deep breath. 

David stands on the other side of the island, green eyes intense with emotion as he pins her to the cabinets behind her. He shakes his head then stands to his full height. The keys in his hand slide across the counter to her. They skid to a stop next to her right hand. His arms cross over his chest.

“Okay, I’ll see you when you get back then.”

“David.” Mack rolls her eyes, throwing the keys into her purse.

Why won’t he let her go easily? How can’t he see what she sees? How different they are? How this started with them hating each other and grew into this thing that was never supposed to happen? How she isn’t meant for this WAG, farm wife, American lifestyle that he wants? She needs to be free- wings wide open so she can breathe. Not turning down assignments and worrying about moving to Dallas.

David doesn��t say anything else to her, just stares her down. Mack can tell he is holding everything he can inside. For her benefit or his, she can’t tell.

“I don’t know when I’m coming back.” She reiterates.

“Okay.” He is eerily calm now.

“So we should go separate ways.” 

“No.” He says clearly and assertively. “You wanna run from me, baby? Then just run. Go. But when you’re done with that, and you come back home, I’ll still be here, loving you. You can more your shit back in then too.”

Mack swallows, looping her arm through the handles of her bags, looking down at them because she can’t look at him. 

“It’s for the best.” She repeats. 

“Mack. I love you. So much.” He whispers, words rough and callused like his hands from working the farm his whole life. The words sound painful as if they rip up his body when he says them. Nothing like the ones he whispered to her last night when they made love. 

It almost gets her to stay.

She hesitates for three more seconds, but her mind screams go. So she does.

“Goodbye, David.” 

He puts his head in his hands as she turns to walk out of the kitchen. She can hear his heavy, uncontrolled breathing behind her until the closed door cuts them off. 

Mack doesn’t breathe the entire ride down the elevator. A numbness comes over her as she tries to convince herself to keep moving forward. She thought she would feel better after doing this. That she was holding them back, him mostly, and cutting the tie would give her back that feeling of freedom she craves. The freedom that he deserves too.

All she feels now is dead inside.

Mack walks out of the building, strutting across the sidewalk with her hand high in the air to hail down a cab. She isn’t sure how her feet are moving so fluidly with how violently she shakes.

“Goodnight, Ms. Hischier.” Philip calls cheerfully behind her.

“Bye!” She calls, waving over her shoulder. She can’t turn around. If she turns around, her feet are going to go right back through that door. 

And she just can’t.

This is not who she is.

She isn’t a WAG. She isn’t a farmer’s girlfriend. She isn’t anywhere close to wife material or a forever kind of girl.

She is a runner. A lone wolf. Who should have taken that elevator home a year ago instead of jumping into bed with her brother-in-law’s teammate. 

The words continue on like a self-deprecating mantra she can’t silence. 

David deserves better. He deserves a wife. Someone who wants to settle into that small country life with him, or in Dallas, and stands next to him through the storm. Not someone who can only see this working if all the cards are stacked in their favor.

Mack, I love you. So much. His voice rings through her brain.

“Fuck.” Mack sobs, shakily trying to breathe in the back of the cab as it pulls away from him. 

Over her heart, her fingers clutch his number on her neck. She pulls, snapping the necklace off her body.

“Ow.” She whispers to herself as her head falls back to the head rest.

If this was what she needed to do, then why does it hurt this damn bad?

Read more Mack and David here.

[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

[alexanderflowerbird]

DAY 12

Ahh! Late again! I did write yesterday, mind, but I spent my evening with some of the folks in my writing group talking about one of their projects because they were stomped on some plot beats and we were working together to inspire them and come up with options for them to work with. It was SO MUCH FUN, and I'm so excited to see what they do with the story after this boost of inspiration! But literally after that? Went right the fuck to sleep lol. So here I am, having woken up at 4:30 AM to report on yesterday's progress lol.

I have curated my playlist for Blood Sun Territory, and it is really helping me get all of my ideas in order, and yesterday, I worked chronologically so I'm on chapter two of BST and Malachi is finding his way in the world, figuring out a game plan to get back to Felina and Mercedes. Along the way, he's having these small interactions and I honestly love writing stuff like this. I love an impactful moment between strangers. I love a sudden feeling of connection. I love a random act of kindness, even if the person isn't nice at the same time, because nice and kind are not the same thing.

It was such a pleasure to hang out with my friends and talk about the art we create together. It makes it all worth it to keep working, when people who's work you admire and respect are invested, and proud, and curious, and want to see you keep going. I am that person for a lot of people, but I have those people for me too, and man. What a gift it is. <3 I know I wax poetic about it a lot in these entries lol, but like, times are hard! It would be easy, had been easy in the past, to go to work, come home, lay down and despair. Having no real support can really kill a part of you that's vital to being the beautiful person you are. I'm glad I'm rediscovering this part of me after so much hardship. My love language? It's creation, baby lol Taglist: @tragedycoded @thelittlestspider @theskeletonprior @badscientist

If you'd like to be part of my taglist, please interact with this post!

His first home, temporary as it is, is the Clover Hotel. It’s old, but the property seems to be something of a dearly loved personal project, a building that could probably be bulldozed and forgotten but that someone with money to their name refuses to see it die like so many other classic old businesses in the city. It doesn’t have doors that open on their own or a pristine, sterile lobby like the big name hotels that are slowly swallowing up the market. It has a regular door that pushes in and has a twinkling brass bell over it. It has old sofas and an ancient but freshly varnished coffee table on one side of the space for guests to enjoy tall, west facing windows and a view that isn’t some dull, bricked up alley way but instead a small garden full of hydrangeas and herbs and the occasional bright pop of small sunflowers. He approaches the front desk, and smiles with what he hopes is a convincing level of charm at the older asian woman occupying the desk. She looks at him and smiles back. 

“Hello! Welcome, room?” Her accent is charmingly thick and a refreshing sound when Malachi has been so used to punchy east coast accents and traipsing southern drawls, American accents born from the very land. This woman, her name tag says ‘Suzy’, and her voice reminds Malachi that there’s a whole world that exists, not just this city or even this state. Maybe to find Felina and Mercedes, he’ll have to go across an ocean, see a whole new place. He’d never traveled outside of the country growing up. He nods at her question and imagines what it might be like if he discovers Felina has taken Mercedes to live in China. 

He only has backdrops in his mind that come from old kung fu movies and pictures in books, but it’s still a pretty thought and thanks to Felina’s impossible, unanticipated kindness, his mind doesn’t crumple up the vision and add it to the pile of scenarios where he faces total, devastating rejection. His anxiety does get a word in though as he imagines China’s sleek modern cities, its ancient misty mountains and beautiful villages. He has no idea how much it would cost for him to make it to China, he doesn’t know any words except the ones Leeroy had introduced to him when his occasional-lover had taken a turn towards understanding all things linguistics. ‘Ya know, Chinese is a pretty cool language, Malachi. It’s got a beautiful shape for every word, and sometimes, the word do sound sorta like another word, but you see that beautiful shape and you realize it’s a whole other word!’ Leeroy had been ecstatic to discover the idea of tones shortly after pondering how the symbols could be different but the words could sound so similar. Did people in China always read and speak at the same time? That didn’t make any sense of course, so off Leeroy had gone with a smacking kiss to Malachi’s brow to find out the answer. His reminiscing and daydreaming pop like a bubble as Suzy’s expression goes from friendly to neutral and guarded. She’s looking at the ID he’s given her to put on file. 

“This old, expired. I cannot use expired.” She tells him, setting it on the counter and sliding it towards him. He feels his stomach sink and is surprised at himself in his reluctance to admit his circumstance to this woman when he’d told Leslie at the bank the truth without really thinking about how she might react. It’s nothing to do with either of the women he realizes; when he’d come to Leslie, he’d had no hope at all for success and had been prepared to discover that his first day out of prison would be spent on the street with no food or help because he had no money worth noting to his name. In those circumstances, why not admit he’s a felon? If Leslie hadn’t been so kind, he could’ve dashed his chances right there and not found out about Felina’s money for him at all, let alone have a new bank card. He struggles to decide to take that gamble a second time. Now he has something to lose, though he isn’t sure what. He could find another hotel, or even seek out a shelter for the night, but he has stupidly, sentimentally looked around for the last few hours for a hotel he can temporarily call home, and he’s picked this one, and he wants to be here. 

“I–” He tries to begin. “I know, I’m sorry. I need to get it replaced, but, I…” He can feel his ribs tightening in his chest around his organs. Does he roll the dice and share something most people find repulsive and hope Suzy will understand? This history will follow him everywhere, and just now, it’s not even history, barely history. Suzy watches him stumble through his words with an unimpressed expression and then sighs. 

“You lazy?” She asks, disapproving. Malachi blinks at her. “You lazy.” She seems to confirm her opinion in his shocked expression. “Okay…Malachi.” She says as she checks the name from his ID. She taps it on the counter while she thinks, sighing again, before setting it down. “You listen okay? Outside, Treetop Street, left, go for numbers to 8th Av’,left again, down, down, down, looking for big red letter. Ah… Notary?” She doesn’t look at him to confirm if she’s chosen the right word. “Maybe. You take this,” She emphasizes it and shakes the ID at him a little, “Get new one. Okay?” Malachi nods, solemn and feeling guilty even if her interpretation of what he’s done is entirely wrong. There’s something almost refreshing to feel a new, much more innocent sense of shame. He reaches for his ID from between her fingers and she pulls it back from him. 

“Tomorrow. You sleep here tonight, go tomorrow. You remember?” She asks and the way she looks at him he knows he isn’t meant to just say yes. 

“Treetop, left, 8th Av’, left again, find the notary with the big red letters further down the street.” He repeats back to her, and Suzy makes a low approving noise before offering his ID back. She gets up from her seat and brings him a card key, perhaps the most modern part of the experience and likely an upgrade that the Clover had to make to compete with the security measures of other more modern hotels. Suzy is smiling again, beatific and pleased. 

“You enjoy, come tomorrow with new ID and you stay as long as you like.” She charms, and Malachi can’t help but smile back at her. 

“Thank you ma’am.” He says, dipping his head and tucking his old ID and his debit card back into his wallet. 

“Breakfast at 8, okay? Come.” She invites, and with a little wave, she lets him off the hook, just like that. He’d been scared, damn near terrified for some stupid reason, but a charming little slap on the wrist hasn’t stopped his momentum at all. He doesn’t need to correct Suzy’s opinion about him being lazy, he wants to though. He wants it more than the logical, necessity based want towards having a valid ID card. His room number is 12, and when he makes his way inside and takes a look at the old, charmingly floral decor, he feels a relief and gratitude that crushes him to the floor. He sits down heavily, and leans his back against the door, pressing his face into his hands. It’s a posture of despair, he knows, and it has the same heaviness to it even though it is something entirely opposite. Hope is just as weighty, just as devastating. 

[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.'