#I SAID I WOULD STOP BRAIN DUMPING IN TAGS SORRY ILL STOP

[inspektairl]

the boyz!!!!!

[shinygoku]

Trust Thomas, the Better Version

I find Trust Thomas to be a guilty pleasure of sorts, an episode of Season 3 that has some serious writing issues but I can’t bring myself to hate it. But I can bring myself to improve it significantly with a rewrite!

Helped along by @mean-scarlet-deceiver ‘s commentary tags on the post I’d made about it before, I present to you my saltier, spicier interpretation! 😼✨

Maybe a smidge over the target audience’s recommended intake.... no actual swear words but still, I give it a PG for Parental Guidance ;3 Also no, I’m not gonna put this on my Ao3 as it’s an Episode Rewrite and not one’a my Original Plots.

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Thomas the Tank Engine was feeling bright and cheerful. It was a splendid day, with warm sunshine, birdsong and lush green fields.

“Good morning!” he whistled to some Cows, but the Cows didn’t reply. “...Never mind, they’re busy with their breakfast.”

He stopped at a red signal, somewhat relieved that Bertie only came by after a brief pause, so he probably hadn’t heard Thomas talking fruitlessly to the cattle. Instead, Bertie was preoccupied with a large jolt as he drove over a hole.

“Owch!! That’s another one!”

“Um, sorry?” Thomas was preoccupied with the signal changing and set back off.

Thomas was still in good spirits when Bertie arrived at the next Station.

“Bad luck, Bertie!” he teased. “Now, if you were a Steam Engine, you’d be running on a pair of Reliable Rails!”

“Huh!” Bertie spat. “The Railway was supposed to deliver tar to mend the road two flippin’ weeks ago! You can’t trust a thing that runs on rails!”

“Oi, I run on rails, you big red lunchbox! I’ll show you, I’ll sort the matter out! You can at least trust me to get results.” 

Thomas left Bertie and chuffed away importantly, along the branch line towards the Big Station by the sea.

James was snorting about in the yard. He was saying many rude words and bashing the trucks roughly, cross about having to cover for Percy.

“Ooh!! Arghh! Oww!” wailed the Trucks. They longed for vengeance but were powerless to bump the big Red Engine back.

Gordon watched the events from another rail and chortled. 

“You know, James, if you were ill, you wouldn’t have to shunt trucks here, would you?” he offered, safe in his luxurious role pulling coaches that day.

James’ furious scowl lifted, all too ready to latch onto this half-baked suggestion. “That’s a good idea! Here comes Thomas, I’ll start pretending now!”

Thomas was perplexed to see the two big engines looking miserable.

“Cheer up, stick-in-the-muds! It’s a beautiful day!”

Gordon assumed the air of quiet suffering, his face creased with frown lines. “Not for James, it isn’t. He’s sick.”

“Yes he is --I mean, I am.” wavered James. There was a pause, and then he coughed a couple of times. “Ooh, I don’t feel well at all!”

Thomas narrowed his eyes as he looked over James. He didn’t really look so poorly, but then, Henry didn’t often look as bad as he’d felt before getting Welsh Coal, and then that new shape. Shame he wasn’t here to help judge.

“Hmph, really? I suppose I'll help out, if you're ill. Lucky for you that I'm already headed for the Quarry.”

He bustled out with some of James’ trucks. Once out of earshot, Gordon and James sniggered.

The Trucks were still furious over their mistreatment, and Thomas was a tempting outlet for their pent up aggression. They began to plot amongst themselves.

Thomas collected the heavy stone from the quarry and set off back to the junction. “Can’t let James forget he owes me...” he muttered, going slowly over the wooden bridge. There was something else he wanted to remember, but it was escaping him at the moment.

He was too preoccupied with these thoughts to prepare for the Trucks’ plan. “Go faster, go faster!” they shrieked, pushing forwards, assisted by the weight of the rocks they were holding.

“Augh! Slow down!!” Thomas was braking hard enough for sparks to kick off his wheels, but it was no good. He was forced off the track and derailed into a shallow, muddy pond.

He was dazed and confused, but in the wait for help his mind cleared enough to become rather cross. “Lovely flippin’ day, indeed!” he muttered, further disappointed by the lack of onlookers to hear his withering sarcasm. The only audience was a horrible slimy toad, it’s warty arms climbing up by his lamp-iron.

Eventually two engines came to his aid. Duck pulled the Trucks away, giving them a bump on the way out. “Hard luck, Thomas!” he called, over the pained sounds of the battered Trucks.

Edward helped Thomas back to the Junction and patiently listened as Thomas ranted about the horrible day he’d had.

“I’m going to find James and stuff the stones down his funnel! Gordon, too! James barely has enough brain power to think of a stupid plan like that, it must have been his smart idea! Oooh, when I get to him, I’m going to wait until his fire is out and I’ll dump him off the quay!”

“Thomas, you can’t kill them,” Edward said, soothingly. “You’d have to pick up on James’ work, for one thing! That would probably be after the Fat Controller takes Ffarquhar away from you, cause if you off Gordon we won’t have an express! That’s very costly for the railway, you know.”

Thomas muttered but privately conceded. “Can’t take Ffarquhar away, it’s a place…. Oh! Ooh!! Edward, I just remembered something!”

Glad to hear the shift in tone, Edward listened keenly. “Yes? What?”

“The roads are all dodgy down part of my line, Bertie was complaining about it earlier. He said something about us having supposed to have delivered Tar for it, d’ya know anything about that?”

“Tar… oh, yes! There’s tankers in my station, but they never said what it was for! Must be that, Driver will make arrangements when we’ve dropped you off!” 

Inside Edward’s cab was a slight sarcastic muttering, but Edward and Thomas ignored it.

Later, James spoke to Thomas. He was having difficulty making eye contact with Thomas, who was still perched on the flatbed and needing to be cleaned from the pond, and whose expression had taken a darker turn once he’d noticed the Red Engine.

“I’m uh... sorry about your accident, and so is Gordon,” he shot a pointed glare back at the Big Engine who was lurking nearby. “We didn’t mean to get you into trouble, honest!”

“No, indeed,” spluttered Gordon. “A mere accident, but all’s well that ends well, isn’t that right?”

“It bloody well isn’t right, you big blue blimp! Make sure you don’t rest too close to the sea or you’re going to find yourself well acquainted, you hear?!”

Thomas’ tirade got cut off by Bertie’s arrival.

“My road’s being mended now!” he beamed, having completely missed the atmosphere of the scene.

“Oh.” Thomas was rapidly rearranging his face to put on a smile for Bertie. “I am glad!”

James was using the chance to slip away. Gordon was a bit slower on the uptake.

“Now I know I can trust an Engine, especially if his name is Thomas! Thank you!”

Gordon slinked away like a dog with his tail between his legs.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Oh, enough of that soppy stuff.” But he was genuinely smiling, at least.

The toad had managed to stay on for the ride over, but Thomas was looking forward to watching it get put in the ditch when he was washed down. Maybe he should name it after a certain Express Engine who had ended up in that water himself some years before? The thought amused him greatly.

[to00ch]

I love what you write! If not, can I please ask HC for Heartslabyul, Leona and Malleus with a "madly" eccentric and cheerful reader like the Mad Hatter who can become more frightening and violent when someone hurts or speaks ill of the reader's loved ones? (on the same level as Floyd when he is in a bad mood lmao).

I feel like most of them turned out rather platonic aaaa I am not sure if I correctly potrayed ‘reader’ as a madly eccentric character, I just wrote them based on my interpretation on how I viewed the mad hatter hahaha

I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless <3

Tags: hinted romance, platonic love, mad hatter!reader

Characters: Heartsabyul babies, Leona Kingscholar & Malleus Draconia

Riddle Rosehearts

he’d be having plenty headaches from you

sometimes he’d use his magic on you cause he’s so tired of you breaking the rules, but that’s only if your actions are too much for him to handle

you have a lot of fun teasing him honestly, cause he’s super cute when he’s mad!! whenever he’d use his unique magic on you, you would bug him more, so in the end he’d undo his magic and let you go

“Riddle~ please let me go hehe, I’ll behave? I think?” you’d repeat a number of times

You’re really protective of him, since you’re very fond of him. When you hear someone trash talking him, you won’t hesitate to throw them in a bin

“Oh my god, (y/n) how many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that?” he’d scold you as he rubs his temples “But Riddle, they were speaking ill of you! How dare they! Talking trash about my favourite person, so I decided that it’ll be good if I dumped them in an actual trash can!” you huffed. 

Moments like this though, made him soften up a little for you, he didn’t show it though, cause if you knew that that made him happy, you would actually be more encouraged to do those things again. “Seriously, what am I to do with you,” he’d sigh and shake his head

Trey Clover

Trey is very good at handling you, it’s like handling a child

He really didn’t mind it, it amused him

Sometimes he’d get overwhelmed from it though, so he’d gently tell you to calm down a little

He always made you your favourite dessert, served with his special tea blend! He loved making you happy! But you felt like he always made you happy regardless

Trey always called you a good girl/boy if you calmed a little, and give you head pats

He gets really worried if you started acting brashly when you’re angry, so what he’d do is give you a butterfly hug (a method used to calm a person down) and made sure you breathed properly

“Sorry Trey, but they were bad mouthing you, I couldn’t let it go! I wish you didn’t do that to me so I can teach them a lesson,” you pouted. That made him chuckle a bit. “You see, (y/n), being violent could lead to something worse, and I don’t want anything bad happening to you,” he said gently as he rubbed your arm “You should really count to three before you act okay?” 

Cater Diamond

Dear lord, sometimes it could get tiring with you around so sometimes he would leave it to his clones

He’d try his best to avoid you, cause you knew which is the real Cater. How exactly? Well, you just knew

Oh but when you dress up eccentrically he’d take a picture and upload it on Magicam! And somehow it got pretty trendy, he knew what he was doing

Sometimes though he actually enjoyed hanging out with you, cause you were super eccentric, so he never got bored regarding the topics you talked about

During tea parties, he would sit with you! And you guys would gossip a lot, sometimes it got rlly funny and you couldn’t contain your laughter, so you laughed really loud and he’d close your mouth when people looked at the both of you

Cater didn’t mind people talking bad about him, well, atleast, he pretended to not care; which made you pissed when people were just being as*holes to him, purposely or not, and you just gave them a punch in the guts without any regrets. 

“Um, I guess I should say thank you? Oh but we totally gotta take a pic together, I won’t upload it though, its just a small memento,” and the both of you would casually take a selfie with the guys who messed around earlier on the ground, looking very much in pain

Ace Trappola

Phew, you guys would bicker everyday it gets worse when Grim is involved

Oh I think you guys would be the biggest headache combined, if you both weren’t fighting, you guys would sometimes gang up on teasing others

When you made stupid remarks he’d say “bro,,,,what IS going on in your head. I think about that every day,” you would look at him and giggle before pinching his nose “The fact that you’re thinking about me makes me kinda flattered,” and he’d pretend like he’s gagging

He won’t ever admit it but he really enjoys your company, if you weren’t there he’d ask your whereabouts

When he’s down, you’d always brighten up his moods by giving some random ass brain fart you thought of that day. It always worked, “you’re so weird, I’m getting worried,” he’d say but with a smile

Once he was picked on by a senior when you were there with him. Cause yknow he ‘bumped’ against that senior, and well the senior was like those typical “oH yoU bUmpEd me so aPologIse,” and obviously ace, being ace, was defending himself, which made that guy almost punch him but you just grabbed that dude’s arm and gave it a twist and threw him on the ground which came with a loud thud 

Ace smirked and gave you a high five and the both of you just left to wherever you guys were about to go and you guys kept on reenacting the scene otw

Deuce Spade

Deuce is very awkward around you, he didn’t know how to respond to your energy at first

But well people in NRC are all weird so this isn’t new, but he thinks the way you dress eccentrically is pretty cool

“Oh wow, where’d you get that fit? That’s pretty cool I’d be happy to wear something like that,”

Sometimes he unintentionally joins in your antics, then he suddenly realises that he has to act like an honour student

“Hey! We should probably start behaving. Jeez....I could’ve ruined my chance on being an honour student,” he’d clear his throat and return to his goody boy side “Aw c’mon Deuce, you’re no fun,” you’d tease him 

When he calls his mom you would always interfere him and embarrass himb

Ngl tho if the both of you were involved in a fight you’d partner up instead and scare those people away before they can even do stuff to the both of you 

Leona Kingscholar

He does not have the time and energy to deal with you honestly

Locks his room door before you can barge in

“Leona!!” *bangs door* “Open up, pretty please~” then you’d cackle

Groans all day long every time you bother him

But because he’s so used to you bothering him it’d be pretty weird if you didn’t show up sometimes, but he’d also be like “Good Lord, finally some silence,”

He was thankful though, there was this one time where you lost your sh*t when someone was insulting him for how he won’t ever be crown prince and you gave em a good whack plus a bunch of insults to feed em up

He started seeing you as a likeable person but definitely won’t admit it at all. He’s a tad bit tsundere but he got protective of you too and you’d tease him a lot regarding that

Malleus Draconia

He was kinda shocked at first how you easily just approached him, and you were very cheerful about it too!

Yours and his dynamic is the reserved one and the wild one, it was always a weird sight for people to see the both of you together

Oh people do be avoiding the both of you btw

Sebek would often scold you for acting such way towards Malleus and you would always just get on his nerves and the only way for the both of you to settle that is by Malleus’ words

“Well, I don’t really mind (y/n)’s company,” he’d say and you would stick your tongue out to Sebek who would mutter under his breath

You would always play tamagotchi with him together and compare each other’s, it would honestly go on for some time

There was a time when he saw you being violent and he’d be very shocked about it, so he used his magic to restrict you for a bit to calm you down, it was too strong for you so you ended up falling asleep from fatigue. He was very worried about you, so he took care of you the whole time you were asleep

[sunflower-swan]

Wolfstar chapter 6

A/N: Here’s what you need to know: I created this story for Writer’s Month 2020. Every day is a new prompt, and therefore a new chapter. This is an AU Wolfstar where Remus is a tattoo artist next door to Sirius who manages a flower shop. James and Lily are alive in this universe and own a coffee shop across the street. And to make parts of the story work with the prompts, Remus is about 10 years older than Sirius. It also takes place more or less in present time, minus Covid-19.

This is chapter 6 of a multi-chapter work. If you’d like to start from the beginning, here is chapter 1.

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I just like to play with them.

Day 6 Prompt: Ocean

Rating: General

Word Count: 1992

Tags: original character, pining

Chapter 6

Remus

Monica, “For You I Will”

I will cross the ocean for you

I will go and bring you the moon

I will be your hero, your strength, anything you need

Remus and Sirius sat at their favorite corner booth at the Potter’s Wheel Cafe for their morning coffee ritual. Sirius was having his usual black coffee with cream and no sugar. While Remus preferred a sweeter mocha cappuccino.

“So Silas is in America then?” Remus asked. While waiting for Sirius, James and Lily had filled him in on the finer points of what transpired after the ‘You’re a wizard?!’ incident.

Sirius nodded with a small frown. “Took a long-distance portkey to New York early this morning.” He exhaled a sigh so heavy it flipped the hair that had fallen into his face. “Six...bloody...months.” He punctuated each word with a knock of his knuckles on the tabletop.

Remus felt bad for his friend. It was obvious he hadn’t gotten much sleep since they had last seen each other. His charcoal eyes usually glowed with a fire that burned through Remus' soul. Today they were a shadowy reflection rimmed in red, all spark gone out. And that was when they were open long enough for Remus to see them. Throughout most of their brief rendezvous this morning, his eyelids became heavier and heavier over his sunken eyes. 

“Maybe you should take the day off. Catch up on some sleep?” Remus suggested after Sirius’ head nodded forward for the third time.

“Hmm?”

Remus threw a couple Muggle bills down on the table. “Come on, Sirius.” He went around to the opposite side of the table and helped Sirius to his feet. “We’re going to get you home.”

Sirius acquiesced to Remus' touch, and the latter led them to the alley apparition point. Once there, Sirius attempted to shake loose of the grasp Remus had around his waist.

“I can manage, Remus,” he mumbled.

“No! No, no. You are in no state to apparate anywhere on your own. I’m impressed you didn’t splinch yourself getting here.” Remus tucked his arm into Sirius’. “Hold on to me.”

“Mmm, ok.” Sirius relaxed into his body.

Remus’ spine straightened and his breath caught at the warmth of Sirius’ body perfectly fitted against his. Restraining all his instincts, he pushed aside the inconvenient feelings, and turned with a POP.

They landed in a secluded area outside Sirius’ flat, and Remus helped him inside. He half-carried Sirius into the bedroom, walking past a faded leather jacket thrown over a chair in the corner, and unceremoniously dumped him into bed.

As he turned to leave, a photo on the nightstand caught his eye. He picked it up. It was a picture of himself with Sirius, James, Lily, and Harry, standing outside the Tattoo Lounge, about a month after he had opened.

James was holding little Harry in one arm and holding Lily’s hand with the other. Remus had his hands tucked into his pockets, and Sirius had an arm around his shoulders. Photo Remus was grinning broadly and kept casting covert looks at Sirius, whose hair was blowing around in his face.

The four of them almost immediately accepted him into their circle. Which, looking back, was a little funny considering they had thought Remus was a Muggle.

He chuckled softly to himself and set the picture back down. He had reached the doorway when he heard Sirius rustle behind him.

“Remus?”

He paused, placed a hand on the door jam and turned his head. “Yes?” 

“Did you know you smell like old books and chocolate?”

This declaration startled him. He swung around to question about this revelation, but found Sirius had started to snore.

~~~~~

Remus stopped by the Loft before returning to the Lounge to inform Sirius’ employees that he wouldn’t be in today. They seemed unaffected by the news that Sirius was ‘ill’. He didn’t see that they needed to know any details further than that.

Once he returned to the secluded solitude of his own shop, he attempted to look over his appointment schedule for the day. Despite his best efforts to focus on the task at hand, he found his mind was in another place. A very Sirius-centric place.

Old books and chocolate? Sirius said Remus smelled like old books...and chocolate. What did that mean? He had been almost asleep when he had made the statement. Did that matter?

Sirius smelled like fresh coffee and leather. Remus would be lying to himself if he said it hadn’t percolated into his subconscious over the last year and a half. Being in Sirius’ bedroom where his scent was everywhere had caused Remus’ insides to squirm.

Not that any of that mattered. Not really. Sirius was with Silas, and Sirius was his friend...nothing more.

Around mid-day, a middle-aged man wandered into the shop. The bell over the door dinged, and Remus glanced up from the magazine article he was reading.

Remus studied the man with interest. He was wearing black converse, cuffed light wash slim fit jeans, and a black tee. Remus couldn’t help but notice how well his toned body filled out the tee. The man looked around the place like he was surprised to find himself there.

“Can I help you?” Remus offered.

The man jumped. “Whoa! Didn’t see you there! Sorry!” He chuckled, placing one hand to his chest while the other ran through his salt and pepper crew cut. “Whew! Old ticker’s still working,” he added with a jovial smile, and a pat to his chest.

Remus grinned in spite of himself, and stood. “I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He apologized and held out his right hand. “I’m Remus, and I don’t usually make a habit of scaring my customers to death.” 

The stranger’s whiskey colored eyes sparkled. He grasped Remus’ hand in his rough and calloused one. “I’m Logan.”

A bolt of electricity shot through Remus at the handshake, and he cleared his throat. “Ahem. So, what can I do for you?” he asked.

“This is a tattoo parlor, right? I thought the answer to that question would be self-explanatory.” Logan ran a hand across his five o’clock shadow with a mischievous grin.

Oh, brother. Someone thinks they’re a comedian. He forgot to roll his eyes because he was lost in Logan’ sparkling, sepia-flecked ones. “Did you have anything in mind?” You tall drink of probably straight water, he added in his head.

“No,” Logan said with a shrug and a smile that showcased his gleaming straight white teeth.

Right… “Ok. Well, I have a book here of some of the pieces I’ve done.” Remus pulled the book out and laid it open on the table. “You can look through here and tell me if anything jumps out at you.”

Logan leaned over and pulled the book toward him. “You did all these?” he asked in an impressed tone. He eyed Remus up and down before turning back to flip through the pictures.

Remus felt his face flush. He felt very exposed after the ‘check-out’ Logan just gave him. Maybe not so straight after all. He attempted an air of coolness and leaned one hand on the desk to peer through the pictures with Logan. “Yep. All me.”

“Very impressive.” Logan nodded his head.

Remus grabbed his sketch book and a pencil, and hopped up to sit on the desk. “Tell me about yourself,” he said, flipping to a blank page.

Logan's eyes widened only for a moment before he straightened up and leaned his hip against the desk. “Buy a man a drink first,” he said with a sly smile.

Godric, give me strength, said one part of his brain. While the other said, A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone! Instead, he waved the sketch book and said, “I’m going to sketch you a design.”

“Buy me a drink anyway,” Logan said, and took a step closer to Remus.

His sandalwood musk, which Remus had noticed the moment he stepped through the door, was now in sharp relief and threatening to overpower his other senses. At that exact moment, someone else, who smelled like fresh coffee and leather, burst through the door.

“Remus!” yelled the new man.

Logan jumped back the distance from which he had traveled moments before. Eyes and mouth wide in shock at the interruption.

“Remus?”

Remus looked between the confused look on Sirius’ face and the startled one on Logan’s, knowing exactly what this looked like.

“Sirius.” Remus attempted nonchalance. As if a ridiculously good-looking and age-appropriate man, practically breathing down his neck, was an everyday occurrence.

Logan sighed in defeat and stole the sketchbook and pencil out of Remus’ hands. Before Remus could protest the theft, he wrote something in it, closed it, and handed it back to him. “Call me,” he said with a wink and strode out of the tattoo shop, giving Sirius a curt nod.

Remus clasped his hands together in his lap, and lifted a questioning eyebrow at Sirius.

“Is that your attempt to look innocent?” Sirius asked, joining Remus sitting on the desk.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Remus replied.

“Huh, right.” Sirius picked up the sketchbook and flipped through the pages. “And ‘no idea what I’m talking about’ just happened to leave you his number?”

Remus ripped the sketchbook out of his grasp and stood up. Sirius was grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

“Quit grinning like that,” he said. “What did you want anyway before you disrupted...nothing?”

“Oh, yeah.” Sirius fluttered the paper he was clutching in his hand. “Got a letter from Silas!” He looked down at the letter. “He says he made it to America fine. And he said he gets a personal day tomorrow, and he had a really cool idea.” Sirius' eyes sparkled. “At noon tomorrow, I go to Land’s End in Sennen, Penzance. At the same time, he goes to Montauk Lighthouse in New York. Then we can wave at each other across the ocean. Isn’t that sweet?”

As Sirius finished explaining The Plan, Remus could only nod in disbelief. “If it’s noon here, isn’t that like, 7:00 A.M. in New York?”

“Well, yeah. Anyway, want to come with me?”

“Come with you?”

“Yeah. To Land’s End tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

Sirius' face split in a grin from ear to ear. He rushed forward and clutched Remus in a rib-splitting hug. “Thank you so much! I couldn’t stand to go alone. I have to go arrange a portkey.” He released Remus and started for the door. “See you around eleven o’clock tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.” Remus waved as Sirius ran out the door. 

Why… Remus sat back down in his office chair and rubbed his hands over his face. He put his elbows on the desk. Closing his eyes, he rested his chin in his palms while his fingertips massaged his temples. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Remus contemplated why Sirius had asked him. Why not James? Why did Remus agree so quickly and easily to accompany him?

After some time had passed, Remus stood to look for something constructive to do. The scent of coffee and leather lingered long after Sirius had left, and it made his stomach ache as he paced around the shop. He picked up items only to deposit them somewhere else a moment later. Eventually, he picked up the sketchpad. He looked down on it a long time, before slowly flipping open to the page where Logan had left his number.

Remus hadn’t noticed at the time, but the smell of sandalwood that Logan brought into the shop had disappeared the moment Sirius had appeared. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Logan was really cute. Impossibly really cute. And age appropriate. Maybe he should call him. Maybe...

Remus slammed the book shut and threw it on the desk. Then he sank to the floor and rested his head on his arms between his bent knees. Who was he kidding? He doesn’t date. He can’t date. Not in his condition. And not handsome Muggles.

Next Chapter: Chapter 7

[melmac78]

A “What if” TAG scene from the finale

(This is a “what if” alternate version of what happened to the Hood after his capture in the finale - The Long Reach Part 2, based on a screencap @lenle-g posted with Alan and Gordon restraining him. It’s also a means to possibly explain Virgil and Jeff’s exchange later on I’ve seen. Some minor spoilers).

*********

The Hood was furious. He had just about succeeded in his scheme to take over the T-Drive engine when it abruptly stopped.

He should’ve known that International Rescue would consider a failsafe to protect their only means home. That EMP was painful to his electronic eye, but rebooting it was easy.

The T-Drive? - no, to his dismay. He wanted to leave the brats with their Dad in space permanently. But the Hood conceded that he could acquire all the Thunderbirds this way.

So, he had to wait for one of the Tracys to come back. After knocking Brains unconscious with a milder version of the stun stick - he was greedy, but not stupid to kill the engineer at the moment - and locked him in the storage closet, he took on the role.

When Gordon and Virgil Tracy came in, the Hood was excited - he could now force them to transfer all the Thunderbirds codes to him, and then leave all of them on the remains of the planetoid.

Alas… Virgil had him.

Jeff… Tracy.

Alive.

Worse, Jeff Tracy knew his engineer too well, and the real Brains escaped his closet with that spider robot of his.

Now, the Hood was being manhandled by the two youngest Tracy brothers, being lectured by their damned indestructible father about needing a better hobby, or whatever blather the man was on now.

Then came the dreaded words: Storage cabinet.

He groaned, as he was led away from the flight deck to the cabinet.

Gordon and Alan started quickly bundling him in rope, when he finally spoke. “So, you’re going to put me in a storage closet? How pathetic,” he said.

The aquanaut growled. “We could always leave you on the last bit of the planetoid,” he snapped.

“Oh yes, I know… but you are so better than me,” rolled the Hood’s eyes. “But are you sure the closet is safe? What if I get killed when the T-Drive is engaged again?”

Alan shrugged. “You survived the last jump,” he said.

“So it would seem… but I wasn’t tied up and in a storage compartment,” said the villain with a sneer. “Wouldn’t you rather ensure I get back alive? You’d rather not have my death on your conscience…”

Gordon pulled the cord tighter, making the Hood grunt. “We’ll take our chances,” he said.

The Hood merely chuckled darkly. “So… you still have a bone to pick with me I see…”

“Damn right, you nearly killed me in my Thunderbird underwater,” said the younger man. “And if it were up to me, you would be staying where Dad lived for eight years… because of your greed.”

Alan however looked at Gordon and shook his head. “Gordo… he isn’t worth it,” he said gently. “We have you, we have Dad, and soon the Hood will be in jail forever.”

“You’re right… come on, let’s get him in the closet.”

The Hood however sneered. “Really? You sure about that?” he said, right eye glittering. “Wouldn’t it be easier for you to let me go?”

Gordon shook his head. “No… you’re staying here,” he growled.

“No, I don’t think so,” said the Hood, glancing at Alan… the one he felt would see reason.

The youngest winced at the look, feeling a flash of pain, but then a calm. There was a voice… telling him to let the Hood go… any means necessary...

The aquanaut however rolled his eyes. “Yes, you are - question is are you going to travel back conscious or unconscious,” he scorned, holding his left hand in a fist.

The Hood merely chuckled. “Don’t you think you should ask yourself that question?” he said darkly.

Gordon narrowed his eyes slightly at the comment. “Wait…” he started only to see a quick movement.

At that moment, he was thankful for years of pillow fighting Alan kept his senses honed, and that moment, intact.

He ducked one of Alan’s swings, only instead of a pillow, it was a spanner from the supply closet.

Gordon quickly reorientated himself. “Alan, what are you…” he started, only to see the youngest with a blank look.

Scarier was the fact Alan’s pupils were so wide, the irises were a thin band of blue sapphire.

“What the?...” the aquanaut started.

The Hood then laughed. “Kill him Alan,” said the man.

“FAB,” said Alan robotically, and pushed off.

Gordon prepared for the hit, but while Alan was small, he was faster. The impact briefly took the aquanaut’s breath, but he recovered as the two grappled.

“Alan, it’s me… your brother,” said the older man as he avoided one of Alan’s swings with the wrench.

The youngest still had the blank look on his face, still obeying the Hood’s orders.

“He isn’t going to hear you Gordon, only me,” said the villain, laughing maniacally.

Gordon tried to get to the Hood to stop him, but Alan put himself between the two, again swinging the improvised weapon.

The aquanaut barely missed becoming that year’s jack-o-lantern.

He growled and looked at the situation. Based on the villain’s chuckles, and the youngest planning his next mode of attack, Gordon realized Alan was not going to stop until he succeeded in his order…

Unless… no.

Gordon inwardly frowned at his options. He knew though if he didn’t stop his brother, the Hood would continue using Alan until everyone was dead.

He reached up for his IR comm, but shortly after hitting it, Alan this time threw the spanner into Gordon’s gut. The aquanaut heard a muttered inquiry as the youngest charged, wrapping his hands around Gordon’s throat.

“Alan...please...stop,” choked out the aquanaut, but the pressure kept building. He could barely hear concerns over the comm… or he thought there were.

The aquanaut then moved his arms up and out, breaking Alan out of the hold. The astronaut spun slightly, allowing Gordon to grab his brother from behind. After pinning Alan’s arms with his legs in a strange take of a piggyback ride, the aquanaut wrapped an arm around the teen’s neck.

He struggled with the youth, even getting bit hard on the arm, but Gordon held on, preparing himself for what was coming next.

The aquanaut knew plenty of self defense skills, some taught by Kayo, but others taught to him during his tenure at WASP and by Lady Penelope. Ways to kill, maim, incapacitate.

Gordon never thought he’d have to render his brother unconscious using one.

Lesser of the two evils at the moment, he reasoned.

“I’m sorry Allie,” he said, gently adding pressure to the teen’s carotid artery.

Alan snarled and tried to fight the inevitable, but in moments, went limp.

Gordon waited a moment longer to ensure the teen was not faking, and between a quick assessment and the Hood’s growls of frustration, confirmed his brother was unconscious.

He gently maneuvered the insensate teen to a harness nearby, securing him in it just in case the spell wasn’t broken when Alan came to. After Gordon softly cupped his brother’s jaw, brushing his cheekbone in apology, he then turned to the Hood.

The man’s near glee in his smirk, watching Gordon harm his brother became too much to bear.

“You son of a…” roared Gordon, grabbing the Hood by the lapels. He then punched the Hood in the nose, breaking it. The villain screamed in pain, as the younger man then followed up with a punch to the jaw.

Gordon drew back to hit him again, this time in the electronic eye, when a firm but kinder hand rested on his shoulder. He turned to throw another punch, only to find the person was dark haired. “Gordon… stand down,” said Scott, firmly.

The aquanaut slightly lowered his fist and glared. “No, Scott, not this time!” he said, pushing away slightly.

“He’s not worth it…”

“Like hell Scott. The Hood just made Alan nearly kill me… he would’ve stranded us,” said the aquanaut, looking at John and Virgil as they checked a recovering Alan. “He deserves to get dumped on an asteroid for eight years.”

This time however an even more gentle hand rested on his shoulder. “No son… no one deserves that, not even the Hood,” said Jeff giving his fourth son a gentle squeeze.

“But what he did to you… to Alan just now...” said Gordon, tearing up. “He’s almost killed all of us Dad. Nearly got me when his goons shot down rock chimneys in the sea - if I hadn’t healed a month ago I wouldn’t be here...”

Jeff furrowed his brow in concern and looked at the eldest in query. Scott shook his head, giving a look that read ‘we’ll explain later.’

The patriarch winced inwardly. Damn the Hood - he hurt his family far too much, for too long while he was stuck in the Oort Cloud.

But the time to talk about the evils of the Hood was for another time when they could all heal better.

Jeff nodded and continued. “I know Gordon, but Alan will be awake soon, I’m here and you’re here. Let go of the hate,” he said, glaring at the Hood. “But we need to find a way to ensure you can’t try to escape again.”

“Right,” Scott said, and turned to Virgil. “Sedatives?”

Virgil shook his head. “None strong enough to keep the Hood under the entire trip,” he said. “John could put him under anesthesia but I don’t recommend it.”

“I agree. Too many risks to list,” said John, who then tilted his head. “There is however the stasis chamber.”

Gordon rolled his eyes slightly. “Stasis chamber? Why didn’t we put him there in the first place” he said exasperated.

Virgil looked at their father, and decided he needed to tell the truth. “Because I wasn’t sure how badly Dad might need it when we found him. Still am not,” he admitted. “If Dad’s injuries were too severe, putting him in stasis would keep him from going critical during the jump.”

Jeff frowned. Yeah, he was feeling rough, but the scanner hadn’t completed the analysis.

That said, he had already survived eight years in outer space, and while he knew he was going to be suffering from weak bones - even with his exercises, several space related illnesses along with more culture shock, there was no choice.

“Son...” Jeff started, making all the conscious brothers turn. He faltered a bit, seeing their worry.

Virgil however saw the look in his father’s eyes and frowned. There was no doubt he was thinking the same thing as his Dad and came to the same conclusion. He hated the Hood could be using an item that his father may need more.

But he knew they all were in agreement: they couldn’t risk any of them going through what Alan did - or worse. “We put him in stasis,” Virgil said. “Agreed?”

Scott, John and Jeff nodded.

“F-A-B” said Gordon firmly, glaring at the villain. He then saw his youngest brother, now fully conscious, if slightly confused, from the sleeper hold, then looked back at the Hood. “First though, I want you to apologize to Alan for what you did.”

“And if I refuse,” said the Hood defiantly. There wasn’t much more the Tracys could do to him without a guilty conscience afterward.

“You remember what I said about coming back home conscious or unconscious?” Said the aquanaut with a smirk.

“Yes?...” said the villain, confused.

“Stasis chambers can be set for either condition - indefinite amount of time,” said Gordon. “So… unless you want to spend heaven knows how long stuck in the chamber conscious… I suggest you apologize.”

The Hood looked around at the six pairs of eyes, all but one - Alan was a bit perplexed why he earned an apology, focused on him with glares lethal as corrosive acid.

So the villain, seeing his options, did the one thing he could do.

He apologized, profusely. Better to get it over with than see that hate for years maybe... and not being able to retort back.

***********

A half an hour later, Alan and Gordon were steering themselves back into the flight deck of the T-Drive, with the Hood safely snoozing in stasis. He would remain there until the GDF picked him up.

They were nearing the entrance when the youngest brother stopped his immediate elder one. “Gordon, I’m so sorry I attacked you,” Alan said, having heard the full story of what happened.

“And I’m sorry I had to knock you out,” said Gordon, giving his brother a gentle hug in apology. He let go, shuddering. “I’m just thankful all those years pillow fighting kept me from being brained.”

“Me too,” said Alan, shaking slightly too in memory of the briefing. “Given the options, I’d rather you put me to sleep instead of using your head as a drum.”

Gordon snorted. “You’ve done that before you know,” he said.

“Yeah, but when you had your helmet on, and me using my hands,” kidded Alan. Still seeing the slight sadness in his brother’s eyes, he smiled in sympathy. “Thanks for punching him for me - even if Scott and Dad didn’t like you doing it.”

“You’re welcome Alan, and I’m glad you got to see him react to my threat,” he said. “I never thought he’d apologize so fast even with the lie.”

Alan quirked an eyebrow. “Lie? You threatened him being put in stasis awake if he didn’t say sorry,” he said.

Gordon chuckled. “Alan… Brains’ chambers put the person under once they get settled in,” he explained.

“So, the Hood was going to be unconscious once he got inside,” said Alan, and seeing Gordon nod, furrowed his brow. “Ok, then why did you threaten him otherwise?”

“You know that look Scott and Virgil give when they’re angry at us?”

“Yeah…”

“Can you imagine that from six pairs of those eyes staring at you for who knows how long you're in the chamber and not be able to be a smart alec back,” pointed out Gordon.

Alan paused for thought, shivering briefly. “Yeah… I think between the punching and the images in his head… the Hood would take the easy way out and apologize to us, then get knocked out,” he said, then laughed.

“Me too. I think though he’ll be even better off in jail… preferably staying in the chamber,” said Gordon.

Both grinned at that thought.

“FAB, let’s get ready to go home,” said Alan as the doors opened.

*****************

On the flight deck, Virgil was getting their father buckled into his seat. He was making sure everything was secure so their Dad wasn’t injured further.

He saw the scans: they weren’t good, but Jeff didn’t have anything critical needing the stasis chamber. That said, he still wished he could’ve put his father inside to have a smoother trip.

*Damn Hood…* he thought.

Jeff however looked down at his son, and smiled softly in sympathy. He wasn’t as good of a medic as Virgil had grown to be, but he knew his son’s tells.

He too wished that Virgil had the option to use the stasis chamber. Not only would it be less painful for him to transition to earth’s gravity, it would ease his second eldest’s worries some if he were sleeping.

But he’d gladly endure some pain if it meant the Hood couldn’t cause any more to his sons. He had enough pain seeing the footage of a hypnotized Alan attacking Gordon.

Some cases, he wished they let Gordon get in one more punch… nah, if Col. Casey was still in charge of the GDF, he had a feeling the Hood would much rather stay in stasis permanently.

Right now though, he needed to give his son some assurance. “Virgil…” he said, pausing until his son looked up. “I’m going to be OK.”

Virgil didn’t quite look into his Dad’s eyes, confirming Jeff’s thoughts. “I know Dad,” he said softly.

Jeff however, gave his son’s shoulder a squeeze, and when Virgil looked at his father’s face, he smiled. “I know I’m not right now… being in space for so long will mean it’ll be tough to get back to earth-shape so to speak, but I will be OK, and so will all of you,” he said firmly.

Virgil looked at his father’s eyes. Those grey eyes with hints of Scott’s blue, cold as gunmetal steel when angered, but warm as reactive metals when happy. “I do know Dad,” he said, smiling more genuinely. “I love you.”

“I love you too son.”

Scott smiled as he sat down in his chair, waiting for Virgil to take his place. Calls at all systems were green lit, with Virgil also adding their stowaway was also secure.

Then the eldest looked to his Dad. “Want to count us down?” he said.

Jeff looked at his sons, already proud of how they’ve grown in the past eight years, ready to defend and protect each other, and always save… even if it was the Hood.

He then smiled. “I thought you’d never ask,” Jeff said.

It was time to go home.

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 68

Chapter Summary - Danielle has become somewhat reclusive, spending a lot of time on her study, and not enough with Tom, so he comes up with an idea to get her out of her books and repair some bridges of his own.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe​ @wolfsmom1​

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Danielle looked at the page in front of her, her vision bleary from hours and hours of staring at her study. Rubbing her eyes, she groaned and looked at her phone, shocked to see that she had been studying for five hours straight. She felt herself fill with dread as she thought of cooking a meal. To say Tom had not come to her to speak or anything meant that he too was probably obsessing over his work, so she rose to her feet and decided that she would see what he felt like eating.

On opening the door, she moaned, the smell of cooking wafting towards her. Smiling she went to the kitchen and bit her lips together, seeing Tom dancing to that Justin Timberlake song he commented somewhat factually that everyone bar her seemed to like, the oven on and a pot on the hob, telling her he was making spaghetti bolognese, as he spun around on the spot as part of his dancing, he jumped slightly at seeing his girlfriend behind him. "Oh."

"Don't let my being here stop you, you had a groove going." She smiled as she walked over to the pot. "Where's the spaghetti?"

"I don't have any."

"Yes, there is, I bought some the other day."

"Well I cannot have any, I need to go on promoting Kong, so my suits have to fit."

"Right, fair enough, that's you out, but I am allowed carbs, so you better be getting some for me." She looked around. "And some cheese."

"Cheese?"

Danielle looked at him in horror, "You cannot have spag-bol without cheese, you absolute heathen, I mean having it without spaghetti is blasphemous, but without cheese…" She shook her head, "Not happening."

Tom chuckled. "You are so passionate about your food."

"I make no apologies, it's who I am."

He leant down and kissed her. "I am well aware, I love that about you."

"Even if I am officially the chunkiest girlfriend you ever had?"

"You are not chunky, Kitkats are chunky, you are a person."

"Sorry, what was the other word, 'wholesome'."

Tom growled. "Nacelle told me you had a little issue when you were shopping."

"It wasn't an issue, it was a bitch of a sales assistant that made a comment about me being chunky," Danielle explained. "She was somewhat appalled that one of my lack of height and rotund of hip diameter would be wearing dresses, that in her opinion, were meant for the likes of your former flame."

Tom merely growled. "I also heard you rounded on her."

"I just told her that her superiors would argue her opinion since my bank card would work as well as a thinner girl's, so either show me the changing rooms or stop wasting my time."

"That's my fiery Irish Lass." Tom grinned proudly before kissing her again. "And for the record, you are not chunky, and I very much love how you look or have you forgotten how I adore to ravish you at any and every opportunity."

"Behave you insatiable man, you might burn my food." She laughed, but the manner in which she held onto Tom and looked at him told him of her internal need for him to state such to her from time to time.

"In all seriousness though Elle, I love you as you are, if you gain or lose weight, so long as you are happy with it, I don't care."

"Yes you do, everyone does, besides, if I lost weight, my breasts would decrease in size somewhat." Tom froze for a moment before letting go of her and rushing around opening different presses. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for the spaghetti."

"Why in such a panic, though?"

"I can't allow these divine assets of yours to shrink in any manner, that is a travesty of epic proportion." Danielle merely laughed and threw her eyes up as she went and stirred the pot on the hob.

*

"It was nice having dinner with Nacelle and her fiancé." Tom declared as he finished his food.

Danielle looked at him curiously, wondering why he brought up the pair since it had been almost a week since they had brought her shopping and then went back to theirs for takeaway, with Tom joining them. "I was not aware you knew Becky."

"Rebecca is one of the biggest names in the industry for contracts, anyone who is anyone gets her and her partners to write up their contract, Marvel deal through them over here."

"Yeah, I knew she was a bit of a deal, just didn't realise how big, Nacelle isn't a bragger."

"I noticed, those who are brilliant at what they do rarely are." Tom smiled. "So what was she saying to you about New Years?"

"I got asked, more than once, who did my makeup and I told people, now she has two weddings booked in for September and at a nice price, plus Becky is sorting her the Spring/Summer '18 contract for New York Fashion Week from it." Danielle smiled in delight. "Guess I was a walking business card."

Tom grinned. "You love to see others do well, don't you? Your friends, even Paul."

"Hey, so long as it does not affect you and me, I want Taylor to do well, just so long as it is nowhere near me or at either of our expenses." Danielle shrugged, "You get nowhere in life wishing ill on people. I am happy, so why want others not to be."

"I often forget you are so much younger than you act." Tom grinned as he pulled out the bottle of wine they had been drinking, "More?"

"Jesus no, I have to proofread a project in the morning. The last thing I need is fuzzy brain doing it."

"How is the study? We are in the same house but barely see each other."

Danielle noted the small hint of sadness in his voice. "I know, it is like before Christmas again, I just get so fixated on getting everything done, I'm sorry." She sighed. "I am getting way more work done than I thought I would, but perhaps I should slow down. This," She held up her hand. "Has another four to six weeks, you are gone to the US in what, two weeks?"

"Ten days."

"Shit." Danielle shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"I want you to get everything done, but…"

"You want me here too, not just in physical being, but actually sitting down talking to you?" She hampered a guess.

"Is it wrong to say yes?"

"No." She smiled knowingly. "I need you to do something for me, Tom." He looked at her expectantly. "I need you to tell me when I am overly obsessed with other stuff, I need you to say 'Elle, I want your attention too'."

"I don't want to force you or make you feel as though it's a chore."

"You're not a chore Tom, you are my boyfriend, who I really, really love spending time with, I just forget sometimes."

"I've an idea." It was Danielle's turn to look at him expectantly. "How about we go see my dad, he's been asking if I would come up, and of course, he is asking for you?"

"When would you be thinking?"

"As soon as we can?"

"How would we get there?"

"The fastest way is to fly."

Danielle's nose twitched as she thought, something Tom noticed she did when her mind was racing to figure out a perceived issue. "I have Mac's vaccination card with me, if we find him kennels, I would go."

"Would that be alright? I mean, I am sure we can find someone to mind him."

"We are not dumping him on Ben and Sophie, she would have to be talked down from a bell tower with a sniper rifle." Tom chuckled. "And I doubt Luke would offer."

"I would pay to see Luke's face." Tom laughed. "Nacelle?"

"They have Nero, I doubt he would be too happy." She explained. "It is too late now, but I will Google a few places and ring them in the morning to see if they'll take him."

*

"Are you okay?" Tom asked as they arrived at the airport in a cab to prevent arousing suspicion.

"Yeah, as we said, we go in separately and no one will put us together." She smiled, pulling out her phone. "We better head in, our check-in time is closing in fifteen, it wouldn't bode well to miss our flight since we only booked it a few hours ago."

"That was nice of that woman to Facebook you back last night."

"Business is cut-throat for so many these days, I am just glad we have a place for him, I think he will like it." Danielle smiled, recalling Mac's delight at his temporary accommodation as well as the other dogs.

"It's only for two days, we'll be home soon." Tom smiled, nervous about seeing his father after his father gave him a significant piece of his mind on his "Whoring" the previous summer. Paying the cab driver, he got out of the car and got his suitcase, which housed both of their belongings, neither taking anything significant with them since it was such a short trip, a few moments later, when Tom had entered the building, not attracting too much attention, Danielle got out of the cab, thanked the driver and closed the door. Inhaling, she walked into the airport, somewhat surprised that Tom was over at check-in machine typing in his details and scanning his passport. nonchalantly, she walked to one of the machines that were a bit away from his and did the same, collecting her ticket and walking to the W.H. Smith's nearby to get a packet of hard-boiled sweets. "It's a lot quieter than I thought it would be." She turned slightly at Tom's voice being so close to her.

"Well, you have no one ringing different photographers to get your sexy mug all over a website." She smiled. "Will we head to departures?"

"Okay, sorry it's only a small commercial and not something fancier."

"Because of course, I am used to different, aren't I?" Danielle laughed. "Seriously, I have never been on anything but a three each side Ryanair or Aer Lingus flight, and the furthest I have been to is the Netherlands."

"What, really? Your parents never brought you on holiday?"

"I have been on loads of holidays, I know my country back to front, inside out, dad always said, bar the weather, Ireland could match any country in the world for scenery, history and culture, in fact, it surpasses many on all of them." She stated.

"So why were you in the Netherlands? What brought you there?"

"Amsterdam." Tom looked at her with a suspicious look and a raised brow.

"Not for that side of it, I did Art for my Leaving Certificate, Rembrandt was the artist our school focused on for that year, so we went over as a class." She stated knowingly. "I told you already, I'm too boring for anything else."

"You are not boring Elle, you are sensible."

"Same difference."

"Can I ask something, it is something Luke said to me before, then Ben and Hugh mentioned it too?" Danielle looked at him. "How does someone so sensible end up taking the risks you do, coming to England, taking on being a paramedic, then taking on being a safety officer? They are such risks, sensible people don't take those sorts of risks."

"I also put a lot into this relationship." Tom frowned. "You are not exactly the safest bet Tom. An actor? And here I am allowing myself love you, putting faith in you I have never given to a man before."

Tom leant a bit closer to her, wanting nothing more than to kiss her hand. "I cannot thank you enough for doing that, I promise I will show you it is worth it."

"It better be, you're the first man I ever said 'I love you' to outside of my dad." She smiled walking off, leaving Tom staring at her as she did. She walked through to the scanning area, taking out all her electronics and keys so to go through the machine. To her relief, it did not buzz, so she collected her belongings again and waited for him.

When they were through, they made their way through the cafes and restaurants and shops towards the gate they were required, since a small British flight seldom required much waiting. "Really?"

"Really what?" She asked, not looking at him.

"I am the first?"

"I told you already Tom, there wasn't many before you, and I was young and not really understanding of what was needed in a relationship, looking back, no, I never knew anything about love before you, nor did I mention anything regarding it."

"So, there is just me?"

"Just you." She confirmed, looking at him.

"But I…" He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Tom, don't." He eyed her warily. "I know you have, you admitted it before, remember. That's fine, I don't care. Well, I care, since it means you have known heartache, but I don't need you to say I am 'the one and only person you have loved' I am not an idiot."

"Does it make me sound easy?"

"Does loving make you sound easy, you're an idiot." She laughed. "No, it doesn't, it makes you sound human. Now, enough, we are still in public, it is quiet, but there is still a few people around."

Since they had booked separately to avoid detection, they were forced to sit away from each other for the short flight. Tom got caught listening to some soccer fan reel abuse at his soccer team for the journey, no matter how high he put up his headphones, while Danielle was sitting next to a man who was, if he was telling the truth, two years younger than her and very interested in her cleavage. Politely, Danielle laughed him off for the majority of the journey, but she felt Tom's less than happy glance more than once.

"He was a bit much," Tom commented as he opened the door of the hire car for Danielle.

"Which one, we both had a bad travel partner." Danielle laughed, having seen Tom's less than pleased face at his own travel companion.

"True, but that guy was staring at you the whole way," Tom growled.

"I see."

"I'm not jealous, you were not leading him on and were trying to get him to leave you alone," Tom commented.

"Of course." Danielle nodded. "I think he said something about being away for a while and I being, and this is me guessing since the Scottish twang can get very strong that I reminded him of his first girlfriend, but with bigger breasts."

"How did you resist the urge to slap him?"

"I had to remember it would give Luke heart failure."

"He would be honoured at your thinking about him." Tom chuckled. "So, you remember my father."

"Stern, working-class Scot, hard to forget."

"After the summer, he…said things, things I did not want to hear, and you can tell from him, he is not one to sugar coat, he was vicious, if not brutally honest."

"So things are tense?"

"Yes, so much so…well, we agreed the best thing to do is for you and I to stay at a B&B."

"Were you planning to tell me this anytime before bedtime tonight Tom?"

"I did not know how to broach it."

"How do you feel? About not staying with him."

"Honestly, relieved. I disappointed him so much, I confirmed everything that he thought acting was, I fucked up incredibly with regards him."

"Well, that is part of why we are here, though I have to say, I don't think for one moment he will censor himself with me here, but at least he is honest like that."

"Thank you, Elle." Tom gently took her injured hand in his and kissed it. "You are always so understanding, so willing to help."

"I'm a glutton for punishment." She grinned as they made their way to the B&B not too far from the town Tom's father lived in.

*

"Dad," Tom smiled meekly as the Hiddleston patriarch opened his front door. James Hiddleston was a good three inches shorter than his son, and his old age meant he was stooped further, but to Danielle, that only made Tom's fear all the funnier more than anything.

"So she really is gone?" James commented. "Thank fuck, though she seems to have taken your dignity with her." He turned and made his way back into his home, heading to the living room where there was a warm fire scorching the small space. "Ms Hughes, it is good to see you again."

"As it is you, Dr Hiddleston." She smiled politely.

"You will not stop that, will you?"

"Can't say that I will." She smirked, causing the older man to chuckle before pointing to Danielle and looking at Tom. "She'll keep you on the straight and narrow, this one."

"I need it." Tom acknowledged. "How are you, dad?"

"Well, it's been raining for longer than I care to count, but overall, no point in complaining. Now, be a good lad and get the tea." Tom nodded, relieved his father seemed somewhat normal, or what was so for the man, and rose to his feet; Danielle followed suit. "No so fast lassie, you are to stay here, I have a few words I want to have with you." Danielle nodded and swallowed as Tom looked between his father and Danielle anxiously. "Now Thomas." Tom turned and left. "He may be thirty-five, but he is still not too old for a clip across the ear."

"No better man for it either."

"You seem to have your head screwed on some bit."

"That is debatable Dr Hiddleston, I thought it a good idea to go out with your son."

James chuckled at that, "Is what Sarah said true, you got rid of her in the end?" Danielle made a head gesture that signified she had some part in it. "Thank you. Sarah will tell you, I nearly had her cowering in a corner for what she allowed him do to my granddaughter, flaunting her in public like that, like some fucking prized dog, and after years of everyone keeping everything about our family private, he flaunted them around like that, Diana should have never allowed it, I never was as angered."

"I can only imagine." Danielle nodded, knowing that the best thing to do was allow him to rant for a few moments, feeling that he only wanted to make himself heard more than anything.

"Is it odd for you being here Lass?" Danielle cocked her head slightly at the question. "You are Diana's ally after all."

Danielle raised her hands. "Whoa, okay, it's been what twenty-five years, there are no ally's, you are two people who were once married, you have three children and a grandchild, if you hold onto something after all this time then beware, because that is cancerous. I am a good friend of Diana's. I love her, she is the mother I have needed since my mam died, but that in no way impacts on any relationship I would like to form with you as Tom's father."

James studied her for a moment, Danielle knowing that whatever opinion the scientist had of her as Emma's friend, being Tom's significant other held a different set of criteria she was required to fill to be deemed good enough. She had shown she was trustworthy, that she would not divulge family secrets when she was Emma's friend, that was in her favour. "Your mother is dead?"

"Both parents are, no siblings, hence coming over here, as well as getting to know Diana and Emma so well."

"Diana always had a heart for those who need it." James acknowledged.

"She saved me, I was so lost when they died, I rushed away from everything, to a small area of England, too scared to stay at home, and there was this lovely woman that just insisted I join her for tea, would not take no for an answer, then insisted I tell her who I was, in full, pushing and pushing, picking at a thread that was barely hanging on, she could see it, she seemed to know I needed to get it out, and when she pulled enough, it all came out, how lost I was, and she sat there, hugging me, telling me I was okay. She means the world to me, so I will not hear an unfair bad word against her, but you are Tom's father, you are the other half of the reason he and Emma, two of the most important people I have ever had in my life, exist, you aided to mould and shape them, so you matter also."

"Many would argue not, Diana raised them, I left."

"You were there for the formative years, they are your children too."

"What is your opinion of me?"

"Honestly?" James nodded. "Strict, straight-backed, brutally honest, feelings be damned, say it as it is, probably not as favoured as Diana because of it, for as strict as she no doubt was, you were the authoritative parent, but you care deeply about your children, nothing you have done has been without thinking about them, when Tom told you about his plans to be an actor, I don't think you did not want to do it out of anything but concern, you wanted him to achieve his potential, you did not think that standing around looking and talking at a camera was the way to do so, but when he showed you the fruits of his work, you seem to have respected that, and last summer," James huffed in disgust, "Your actions were that of a concerned father and grandfather, of a man who cared for his family and their privacy, I cannot respect that enough, you had the balls to say what Diana was too frightened to say."

"I thought you said you would not hear a word against her."

"I said I would not hear an unfair word against her, that is a fault, not wanting to cause an issue, allowing that farce go on."

"My son has done well with you, Lass, the only issue is, does he realise that that streak in you, that strong will you have, will not always go his way, and if there is one thing that Tom is not used to having these days, is people going against him in any way."

"I love Tom, but the day I notice myself change in a manner I do not think benefits me most of all as a person, I am leaving, nor would I expect him to stay for me if he feels the same."

"Good, no one should change for anyone else. Diana and I took longer than we should have to figure out that, a woman of her background and a man of mine had little reason to be married, but I would not take it back, no matter how much I want to clip that boy's ear."

"From what I gather, you and Diana see things better away from one another, I mean, you are not at risk of being best friends in the next twenty minutes, but you both clearly care for your children and grandchild and I dare say would be quite vehemently willing to fight their corners."

"You gathered right there." James nodded. "Speaking of my son, where is he with that tea?"

"Eavesdropping from the door," Danielle stated. Sure enough, a moment later, Tom came into view, causing James to nod in acknowledgement of her accurate assumption.

"Well?" James half demanded gruffly.

"Sorry, I did not wish to interrupt," Tom responded meekly as he placed the tray with everything needed on the table.

"I assume you were listening intently, though."

"Yes, dad."

"I swear to God boy, if you ever pull a stunt like that again, you had better not blacken my door, cause thirty-five or fifty-five, I will redden your arse for you."

"I swear."

"And no tagging on this poor lass, she is too good for that, good copped on head on her, though that has to be questioned, considering." he gave his son a look that only caused Danielle to laugh, James giving her a fond glance as he did so.

"Thank you, James."

"What is it with all three of my children and their love of foreign accents? Indian and two Irish." James noted.

"Sure says the Scot that married an English woman." Danielle pointed out, laughing slightly as she did.

"Fair point to you there." James acknowledged, reaching forward and getting some tea for himself.

[asking-jude]

🌊 Hi, this is kind of urgent because its starting to affect me a lot. So Im a maladaptive daydreamer but it never really affected me as badly as it does now, because of the quarantine the daydreams have gotten really bad and almost out if control. I know its very stupid but I keep daydreaming about a being in a relationship with a certain person and being away from all this. My family is a little toxic and I rarely feel like I belong here, also I recently broke up with my partner. 1/2

(ask continued) ...So Im feeling lonelier than ever. The whole thing has developed into something almost obsessive, I keep thinking about this person and then I go online to look up things about said person, I feel so bad for doing it and I don’t think its really healthy anymore. Before this it only happened like a couple of times a day and it never interfered with my every day but now I find myself procrastinating on things Im actually supposed to do (chores, hw, etc). I don’t know what to do anymore

Hi love, 

Thank you for contacting Asking Jude. I’m sorry to hear that you’re going through all of that.  I’ve gone through something similar with obsessive daydreaming. It’s very annoying when it interferes with daily living. However, there are things that you can do to stop it. One of them is identifying your triggers, i.e., thinking about that person all the time. Try to distract yourself from looking things up and thinking about them. Try channeling your daydreams into an art form like writing a story or brain dumping them into a journal. Here are some articles with more advice on what you can do: 

- https://fairygodboss.com/career-topics/how-to-stop-daydreaming.  - https://wildminds.ning.com/forum/topics/yes-you-can-cure-yourself-from-maladaptive-daydreaming.  - https://medium.com/invisible-illness/how-to-escape-from-the-escapist-trap-5cee7e7bfff4.  - https://medium.com/@denaespeaks/how-to-stop-daydreaming-and-start-living-your-dream-681e5eeae72a.  -https://maladaptivedaydreamingsupport.tumblr.com /post/59485584113/ways-to-deal-with-mdd.  - https://a-madd-world.tumblr.com/tagged/madd-recovery.  - https://medium.com/@lgraham0025/is-maladaptive-daydreaming-real-8a7d6289329e. 

Here are some websites with more resources for maladaptive daydreaming: 

- https://madd-information.tumblr.com/.  - https://thedreamingplace.com/.  - https://maladaptivedaydreamingsupport.tumblr.com/.  - https://a-madd-world.tumblr.com/.  - https://maladaptivedaydreamingguide.wordpress.com/guide/.  - https://wildminds.ning.com/.  - https://www.reddit.com/r/MaladaptiveDreaming/.  - https://daydreamresearch.wixsite.com/md-research. 

Loneliness is a terrible feeling. It can make you feel down and isolated. This is a completely normal emotion that everyone experiences from time to time. However, it is simple to reverse this feeling. I found these articles with advice on how to cope with loneliness: 

- https://www.verywellmind.com/loneliness-causes-effects-and-treatments-2795749.  - https://au.reachout.com/articles/10-things-to-do-if-youre-feeling-lonely.  - https://www.verywellmind.com/how-to-cope-with-loneliness-during-coronavirus-4799661.  - https://psychcentral.com/blog/10-more-ideas-to-help-with-loneliness/.  - https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/light-and-shadow/201506/coping-loneliness-finding-your-way-out-the-dark.  - https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/tips-for-everyday-living/loneliness/about-loneliness/. 

Since your recent breakup is contributing to your daydreaming, I thought I would share some articles on how you can cope with it and move on: 

- https://www.healthline.com/health/coping-with-break-up#takeaway.  - https://www.helpguide.org/articles/grief/dealing-with-a-breakup-or-divorce.htm.  - https://www.vox.com/first-person/2017/1/3/13938008/breakup-strategies-research.  - https://www.mcgill.ca/counselling/files/counselling/surviving_a_break-up_-_20_strategies_0.pdf.  - https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/laugh-cry-live/201208/coping-distress-and-agony-after-break. 

I know it must suck being stuck in a toxic living situation during the quarantine. You don’t really have that many places to go. Try not to spend a lot of time near them. Go outside in your backyard if you have one. If you can drive to a park or somewhere somewhat isolated, then do that. Make sure that you practice social distancing and wear a mask. Here are some guides on how to deal with toxic family during the pandemic: 

- https://www.hotelcaliforniabythesea.com/2020/03/31/7-ways-to-deal-with-toxic-family-members-during-self-quarantine/.  - https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/guide-better-relationships/202003/managing-difficult-and-toxic-relationships-during-pandemic.  - https://www.womenworking.com/5-ways-to-handle-a-toxic-person-during-quarantine/.  - https://limetreecounseling.com/blog/f/5-ways-to-stay-safe-when-quarantined-with-a-toxic-person.  - https://www.pinkvilla.com/lifestyle/people/disturbed-your-toxic-family-members-follow-these-tips-deal-them-during-quarantine-525354.  - https://blogs.psychcentral.com/imperfect/2020/04/how-to-cope-when-youre-stuck-at-home-with-a-difficult-family-member/. 

I think that you benefit from journaling. Keeping a journal is very cathartic and can help you work through your thoughts on current issues, especially since you’re dealing with a lot of things right now. You don’t have to write in it every day either. Here are some websites with information on ways you can journal: 

- How to Brain Dump: https://littlecoffeefox.com/brain-dump/.  - Journaling to Get Over A Breakup: https://medium.com/@michellefyfe/how-to-use-journaling-after-a-breakup-7f16c67b02f8.  - How to Keep a Dream Journal: https://penzu.com/dream-journal.  - How to Journal in General: https://journaltherapy.com/journal-cafe-3/journal-course and https://penzu.com/how-to-start-and-write-a-journal. 

In addition to the resources above, I think that you should utilize helplines. Hotlines are excellent resources because they are free, confidential, and available 24/7. Their primary purpose is to give their patrons support and guidance when they are in a crisis or need someone to talk to. Here are my suggestions: 

- Crisis Text Line: Text “HOME” to 741741 to chat with a counselor.

- 7 Cups of Tea: Visit www.7cups.com or download their app (IOS or Google Play) to create your account. Once you have, you can start speaking with a trained volunteer or attend group sessions on several topics. 

- CONTACT Helpline offers emotional support listening- Call 800-932-4616 to talk with a counselor. 

-YouthLine is a peer-run support line for teens and tweens. From 4 pm to 10 pm pacific time, you can chat with a teen volunteer. Any time before and after that period you can speak with an adult. They offer four different ways to connect with them, which you can view at https://oregonyouthline.org/. 

- TeenTribe is an online peer-run support group for teens dealing with mental health issues and/or family difficulties. To get started, visit. https://support.therapytribe.com/teen-support-group/. 

- Suicide Prevention Lifeline: If you feel that you are in danger of hurting yourself or having feelings of wanting to die, please call 1-800-273-8255 or visit https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ to access their online chat. 

It’s okay to daydream as a way to cope with the things that are going on. Hopefully, the resources I’ve given you can help cope with maladaptive daydreaming and find new ways to deal with the issues you are facing. I know you can get through all of this and overcome your daydreaming If you need any more support, please don’t hesitate to come back to Asking Jude. 

P.S check out Asking Jude’s YouTube channel for helpful videos at www.youtube.com/c/AskingJude. 

Love, 

Meggan 

Asking Jude needs YOUR help! Donate pocket change here and save our safe space.

[nnegan13]

I've read your tag about Fede never calling edo on incantava first date and I agree that it would have changed the whole plot!!!! God damn it the possibilities!!! Maybe you could write something about that? Please??

hi! sorry that I’m just getting to this. I honestly think it would’ve gone soooo differently and after you asked this I was like, ‘well that’s as much of a sign as any to write something for it’ so here’s a little blurb from the beginning of an AU one-shot that I’m not really sure I’ll get around to finishing. it’s kind of rough and not edited but! it’s what I’ve got for you lmao 

FRIDAY 15 MARCH��19:51FIUMINCINO 

“Not to be repetitive, or anything,” Eleonora says, sliding her eyes back over to Edoardo, hunched over his knees, and pursing her lips a little. “But, if you could apologize to Silvia, again…” she stops, lips curling into her mouth, watching the way his face falls open the moment she begins to speak, and regrets letting her tongue be so loose. She’s going to promise things she isn’t sure she can do. 

“For texting her again?” He sounds confused, but willing, and that’s the worst part. 

“I mean, maybe not apologize, but talk to her, at least.” She turns back to the waves lapping at the dock. “Explain that you’re not interested.” 

“But keep you out of it.” 

She nods. “Keep me out of it.” 

“Because you’re going to tell her, right?” 

She cuts her gaze over to him, frowning. “About what?” 

“About this.” He gestures between them and she clamps down on her heart to keep it from beating faster. 

“Why would I?” 

“It’s just as shitty to keep this from her as for me to use her,” he says, shrugging. “You want her to get over me? What better way than to tell her I’m interested in you?” 

Eleonora’s heart starts pounding. I’m interested in you. “Still different, I think.” 

“Whatever you say, Ele.” He hums a little, a bit of a laugh to his voice, and looks back out at the sea. Frowning, she grabs another cookie from the tin in her lap and tries not to be too furious when she bites into it. Damn him for making good points. Edoardo was much easier to hate when he was some nonsensical boy playing school-ground god. Now that she’s got a peek at the inner workings of his brain? 

Her distaste of him is at risk. 

She deflects from her own self: “You’ll talk to her, though?” 

“Want to make another deal, or something?” His smile is wry and her fingers clench around the cookie involuntarily. She frowns, mouth opening to say something rather angry and malicious, and watches a joking backtrack cross his face before she can speak again. “No, I’m kidding.” He nods and holds his hand out for the tin. “I’ll talk to her.” 

She slides it across the dock and tries not to focus on the graceful curve of his fingers as he goes about rummaging through the tin. “Good.” 

Looking up, he gives her a close-lipped grin, something she can tag as pleased, and the fact that he’s happy she’s happy with his agreement burrows into the back of her mind. What could that possibly mean?

She deflects from herself again, focusing on the superficial. “Speaking of deals, this one’s done, right?” 

That pleased expression doesn’t leave his face. “Are you not having the greatest time?” 

“He thinks himself a comedian.” 

Edoardo does chuckle a little at that and shrugs before letting sincerity slip onto his face, even if it’s marred by a hint of disappointment. Surprisingly, it’s similar to how he looked when he talked about his mom— “Once we’re done tonight, we’re done.” 

“And this never happened.” He gives her a pointed look, holding eye contact she somehow can’t break, until she relents. “Okay, to Silvia, maybe it happened. But you’re telling her, too.” 

He puts the lid back on the cookie tin, rubs his palms down his pants, and stands, tin in hand. “This never happened, but only once we go to this gelato place down the street.” 

She stares up at him, that tiny nest in her mind trying to figure out what, exactly, his game is, piecing together things he’s said tonight and all his texts while she was in England and everything they’ve ever said to one another since she ripped him to shreds in front of il baretto, and keeps circling back around to the pleased expression on his face from just a minute or two ago. Eleonora nods. “Fine.”

— 

TUESDAY 19 MARCH 13:37 SCHOOL

She sent the text earlier almost as soon as she saw them walk past her and the girls outside the school this morning, taking the moment in which Silvia started tittering with concern to follow her impulse and ask him to meet after classes were done. 

Now, standing in the middle of an empty classroom cordoned off for school remodeling, Eleonora might regret certain actions she’d taken. 

Edoardo shows up a few minutes after the bell rings, hand casually looped around the strap of his backpack like his fingers aren’t taped together, like his knuckles aren’t split a searing red, like his face isn’t various shades of purple. She swallows as he enters her space, just a step or two away. Her hand twitches at her side. 

He says, “What’s up?” and it drives her crazy. 

“Nothing, I just—” she lets her hand move so it doesn’t do something stupid, like touch his face, and gestures at his person, “—wanted to apologize.” 

His eyebrows furrow. “For what? As far as I can remember, you weren’t the one throwing the punches.” 

She bites her lip, tries not to think of the flicker of his eyes down and back up her face. Her heart pounds out of her chest and she folds her arms. “No, I know. I meant about Friday, your mom, I didn’t know.”

Silvia’s story about his mom’s illness combined with the proof of his terrible beating, bruises very fresh even two days later, set something off in her. His words from their date still have her on edge; as far as she knows, neither of them have talked to Silvia yet, but his frustratingly accurate analysis of the situation sits just under her skin and wants to come out in the form of sympathy for him. 

It’s only a little infuriating. 

“I wouldn’t have said those things if I had.” Her voice echoes loudly through the room despite her efforts to be quiet, and she doesn’t look away from him, even though she wants to, badly. “I’m sorry.” 

The corner of his mouth tugs up, reminiscent of his pleased expression from Friday, and adds itself to her collection of Edoardo-isms she has yet to understand. “Don’t worry about it.” A beat passes, he leans into the desk she’s propped against and, subsequently, more into her space, and now her heart is racing for different reasons. “Thank you, though.” 

“Mm.” She looks away, but not before catching how his expression turns teasing. What is she in for, now? 

“Maybe I should get beat up more often.” Eleonora narrows her eyes at her shoes. “That way, you’ll get all concerned and—”

“No.” She clicks her tongue against her teeth and glances at him. He’s kidding, again, like he was about the second deal; the fact that she can recognize that in his face, in his voice, is worrying. “Don’t joke about that.” 

He moves one last time and, now, their shoulders are pressed together; the fabric of her shirt rides up when he shrugs. “Okay.” 

Thinking about that one point of contact is a dangerous path, so she deflects. The reoccurrences are becoming almost as annoying as Edoardo. “Why were you even fighting, anyway?” 

“Ah,” he shrugs, looking mildly put out at the reminder. “Last week, I broke one of their noses for calling Emma Covitti a slut. It might’ve pissed them off a bit.” 

“A bit.” 

Apprehension shades his face when he meets her eyes again, traces the quirked line of her brow with his gaze, but she can’t find a speck of guilt. Eleonora prays her own face doesn’t heat at the intensity in his expression and wonders when it became so easy to read him, if it’s easy for him to read her in turn. “Is that judgement I hear?” 

“Violence begets violence.” 

“So, it’s my fault?” The interesting thing is that Edoardo doesn’t sound angry, just intrigued by her answer. 

“Maybe.” A muscle ticks in his jaw and she presses her lips together. “You could’ve just talked to him.” 

“I don’t think talking to him would’ve changed his mind.” 

“He probably would’ve been more willing to think about it without a broken nose, though.” He snorts, and that pisses her off a little. “What are you laughing at?” 

“I would’ve thought you’d be glad I broke his nose for what he called Emma,” he explains and his words slip right under her skin, again. 

Radio feminist. Killer lipstick. Defender of women. That’s Eleonora Sava in a nutshell. Edoardo might be right, but in this case? 

She looks at the blackboard. “This is different.” 

“Why? Hm? Because it’s me?” Yes. 

His tone is light but she can see an underlying hurt in his eyes when she turns back to him. She doesn’t like how sincere he always sounds and how it makes her head spin, so she changes the subject. “When are you going to talk to Silvia?” 

He tilts his chin, lips twitching a little. “When are you?” 

“This weekend.” She isn’t sure, actually, but it might be the best time to do it. Secluded in the mountains, with their friends around for comfort and logic, convenient places for Silvia to dump a body if it comes to murder. “We’re going to Federica’s for the break.” 

“When do you leave?” 

“Thursday.” 

“Okay,” Edoardo nods and half-smiles at her. “I’ll talk to her before then.” 

When she nods and that pleased expression returns to his face, she steps away from the desk. “Good. Uh, I’ve got to go.” 

“Okay.” She walks backwards toward the door, angling her head to the side a little as she watches him. He doesn’t make an effort, that she can see, to stop her from leaving and it only adds to her annoyance. And the fact that she’s annoyed about it also annoys her. “See you.” 

It’s open ended, not a promise, just a possibility, and Eleonora hates it a little even though it’s what she asked of him. Once we’re done tonight, we’re done. She waves, “See you,” and exits without a backward glance.

[rubyredsparks]

Blossoming Souls Ch. 5

Relationship(s): Romantic Logince, Moxiety; Platonic every other relationship

“Tags” for the whole story: morally grey!deceit, Deceit, Remus, Thomas as a character, Romance, Minor violence, someone’s potty mouth, Foul language, Minor homophobia (it’s not that bad), Miscommunication (this one is though), Friendship

Chapter Summary:  Remy broods too much, and Roman's first crush might be a little ill-advised when their first impression wasn't that good in the first place.

Remy woke with a raging headache, and he groaned pitifully as it worsened. He slowly sat up, a hand to the front of his head and eyes shut tight.

He groaned again at the disorientating change in position as his headache shifted to a dull throb. His stomach rolled, and he forced down the vomit he wanted to expel.

“God,” he croaked, feeling the dry, scratchiness of his throat. “I hate hangovers.”

His legs moved on their own accord as he shifted out of the hard… something he was on and stumbled his way toward the windows, the sunlight streaming in too much for him to handle, and shutting the curtains closed.

He braced himself on the window, covered by the thick cotton. Breaths coming out ragged, he gagged against the foul aftertaste of vomit and alcohol in his mouth, barely stopping it from coming out.

Remy took a shuddering breath and straightened up shakily, eyes squinting in the still too bright room. He shook his head to clear away the muddling thoughts, instantly regretting it when his headache worsened.

“You’re fine, you’re fine,” he muttered to himself, closing his eyes for another few moments.

He let out a shuddering breath, his headache dulling to a light throb, something he could handle. Walking to the bathroom, which was a feat in and of itself, he washed out the lingering aftertastes, spitting it out harshly, and took a drink of water.

Patton’s rumbling snore could’ve caused an earthquake with its ferocity, and Remy grimaced, the noise not helping his headache. Patton snorted, and Remy shot the unconscious man a small glare.

He shook his head, feeling less groggy after washing up.

Remy sighed, looking wistfully at the bed. He remembered seeing the barely there sun rays peeking in before he had closed the curtains.

There wasn't much time before Patton would wake up, meaning the other two would wake up as well.

He couldn't blame them, Patton was always an early riser, even when they were kids.

And wasn't that a thought? Had it only been ten years since the two of them had last seen each other?

Remy could still remember the wide smiles Patton always wore, the warm hugs and… his innocence.

Remy wasn't blind, even with his sunglasses. He could see the brittleness Patton had on, even with his bright smiles and cheery tune.

Something had happened since they were kids until now. But it wasn't like he and Patton were any closer than they were before.

Ever since… well he didn't like to think about that.

Remy couldn't blame Patton for not recognizing him. He was taller, blonder with shorter hair, and, well, manlier.

He still remembered Patton as the short, kind boy that wanted to greet his next door neighbor with cookies and a smile.

There was a pang in his heart as he remembered the past, two children with scraped knees and perpetual smiles on their faces.

Patton snorted, and then groaned, shifting on the bed. Remy froze, stuck in one place without knowing where to go.

The personal guard rustled with the bedsheets, slowly getting up with a stretch of his arms. He yawned, loud and unabashed, smacking his lips.

Rubbing his eyes, Remy watched, still frozen in place, as Patton turned to Remy with confusion.

“Remy?” he said groggily, squinting, and there was something in his eyes that Remy wished he knew what it meant. It looked like familiarity, but Remy knew that couldn't be true.

“Hey there, Patty-cake,” he said nervously, and he suddenly felt naked without his sunglasses covering his eyes.

Something flashed in Patton���s eyes, but Remy refused to let that slip sink in, “You can take the shower now, it's open. And not to be rude, but girl, you're rank.”

“Er-” Patton scrunched up his nose and nodded, “Alright. What time is it?”

“Don't you worry your pretty little head, doll, we have time to get to the palace. It's ass o'clock. Why the hell did you think it was a good time to wake me up now?”

“But you woke up first?” and bless his heart, Patton looked terribly confused and his eyes were still drooping.

“I did not come here to be slandered like this!” This was familiar territory, the over excessive reactions, the overreactions, the exaggerations, this he could handle.

“I- I'll just take that shower now then,” Patton mumbled, sleep still in his voice, and it's a testament to his weariness with how he hadn't said a single pun since he woke up.

Remy sighed as he watched the bathroom door close, crossing over the room and scooping up his sunglasses.

Putting them on, he felt a wave of relief wash over him, the security of the glasses boosting his confidence.

He wasn't ready for today. He still didn't know what Roman’s motive was for hiding his identity. All Remy knew was that he could not have Patton finding out who he really was.

As he stood, he nodded to himself and picked up his bag. His hand was on the doorknob as he took a deep breath in and exhaled, “Showtime.”

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

Roman snorted, groaning, and felt something heavy on his chest. He groaned again, lifting his left arm to scrub at his face.

He felt a bit grimy, his hair greasy and mouth smelling like death. He tried to sit up, pausing when there was a whine of discontent.

Blinking owlishly, Roman looked down to see a man with glasses skewed and pressing on his face. There were little snuffles of sleep, breath coming out in short bursts.

Roman felt a hesitant fondness bloom in his chest at this man who had just met. He didn’t really know what to think of him; he had seemed so cold and stoic the first moment.

He had walked into the room to talk to Patton, find out a little more of their venture to his kingdom, if they were the envoy from Eiehde.

And they were, when they introduced each other, Roman had a niggling suspicion, but he had to make sure. When Logan had inadvertently told him, he knew he was right.

Logan snuffled, cuddling closer to his chest. Roman quirked a small smile at his betrothed. And God, wasn’t that a thought?

Barely twenty three and already on the verge of getting married, Roman wasn’t sure if he regretted it or not.

But staring at this man, who he still had just met, he figured he could live with being in this arrangement. Yes, he was a hopeless romantic, but it was part of his name!

This man whose eyes lit up as Roman told the story of Sherlock Holmes, this man who seemed to be cold and aloof, but Roman can just tell that there was something hidden underneath that cold exterior, this man who tore apart Roman’s words and charms in a matter of seconds, that man that Roman felt like he was already falling in love with.

And it was only hours ago that he had met the man.

Roman couldn’t deny that Prince Logan was physically attractive. Lean, but still barely reaching Roman’s shoulders. Hair a curly mess that was attempted to be held back with a headband. Dark skin smooth as silk, silver-blue eyes that shimmered like the moon. God, Roman was so gay.

He knew, though, that not telling Logan and Patton his real name would send mixed signals when they would inevitably meet in the castle.

Roman just hoped that Logan would forgive him by the time they exchanged vows.

He moved, hoping to extract himself from Logan’s grips without waking the young prince. When he had gotten all but his arm out of the prince’s grip, he thought that he had gotten off scot-free.

Of course that was when Logan fluttered his eyes open, groaning and gripping tight to Roman’s sleeve. Roman froze, he was stuck. The virtual death grip that Logan had on his sleeve confined him in one place.

“Wha-?” Logan’s sleepy voice croaked out, and he looked at Roman with a hazy smile, something Roman wondered if he did without his sleep-addled brain.

“Terribly sorry, my Prince,” Roman murmured, the phrase twisting unfamiliarly on his tongue. “But I’m afraid that it’s morning and that we’ll have to leave soon.”

“Alright…” Logan said, trailing off back into sleep.

Roman smiled fondly but rolled his eyes, “My Prince, we must leave now if we want to make it to the palace of Eiehde.”

“C’n’t we jus’ sle’p?” Logan slurred, dazedly burrowing back into the mass of blankets.

“‘Fraid not, Prince,” and the royal title fell from his lips far easier than it had before. Roman gently poked Logan’s cheek, getting an annoyed snort in response.

Roman pulled out his last resort, yanking the blankets off Logan’s body. The other prince yelped at the sudden change in temperature, shooting upright.

“What the fuck!”

“Language, my Prince,” Roman tutted gleefully. “I told you we were on our way out. Be glad Remy didn’t wake you up. He would’ve dumped scalding hot coffee on you if you didn’t wake up at his first call.”

Logan squinted in the dark up at Roman, who was leaning over him. “Where are my glasses?”

“Here, you nerd,” Roman said, handing him his glasses. “Sunrise is barely peeking through. We’ll have to leave in less than an hour if we want to get there before teatime.”

The bespectacled man only groaned, rolling back onto his side and letting his glasses dig into his face. “Leave me alone.”

“No can do, my Prince.” Roman chuckled at his antics, smiling fondly at the man. “C’mon shower and stuff, and then we can have breakfast. There’s this jam that I love that I’m sure you will enjoy.”

“Jam?” Logan slurred sleepily, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He yawned, and Roman chuckled.

“Yes, jam.” Roman grabbed Logan’s hands, tugging him up. Logan groaned but blearily allowed Roman to drag him up and out of the bed, stumbling.

The hidden prince suppressed a smile at the sleepy prince, who was murmuring and yawning quite adorably might he add.

“Alright then, my prince, let’s get to it!” Roman said cheerfully.

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

Masterpost | Previous | Next

[kitty-bandit]

Home Cookin'

Fandom: D.Gray-man Rating: G Pairings: Laven (Allen x Lavi) Total Words: 1.5K Tags: Modern AU; Domestic Fluff

I’m back again with more Laven! This fic is for @dragonacesg7​, who was one of the winners of the fic commission giveaway I had on my DGM blog, @letspleasuretogether​.

You can read the fic below the cut, or on AO3.

And as always, if you like what you’ve read here, consider buying me a coffee.

“Okay,” Lavi said to the empty kitchen as he stared down at the smudged screen of his phone. “I can do this.” He was a man on a mission—a mission to feed his boyfriend something that didn’t come out of a box labeled Domino’s.

Allen had been working double-time lately. One of his coworkers had gone on maternity leave, and that left plenty of open shifts for Allen to snatch up. He’d been more than willing to step in for the extra money, but it also left Lavi in limbo. With no teaching duties most of the summer, and unable to find part-time work for the three months between class sessions, Lavi had more free time on his hands than ever before. At first, the time off had been wonderful. He wrote up lesson plans for the coming year, mapping things out until December, and when he’d finished that, he’d caught up on all the reading he’d been putting off during the school year. Now, with nothing to do and Allen working at least twelve-hour shifts, he needed to do something before his brain exploded.

Inspiration came by way of a comment Allen had made the night before. “I wish I had time to make dinner.”

Unlike Lavi, Allen loved to cook almost as much as he loved to eat. He’d been their designated chef since they’d left high school and moved in together, but even after watching Allen in the kitchen for nearly six years, Lavi still was woefully ill-equipped to cook more than macaroni and cheese, or if he was feeling that culinary spirit, a grilled cheese sandwich.

But Allen had been working so hard for nearly two weeks now, and Lavi, with nothing left to do and all the time in the world, wanted to give him a treat—a home-cooked meal that wasn’t out of a box. After scouring the internet for recipes all morning, he’d come up with the perfect dinner: fried chicken, garlic mashed potatoes with gravy, and steamed asparagus.

The recipe made everything seem so easy. They already had most of the ingredients for the meal at home; oil, spices, flour and eggs for the batter, butter and milk for the potatoes. All he’d been left to buy were chicken, red potatoes, asparagus, and fresh garlic. It’d been an easy shopping trip, but now the real task began—the actual cooking.

“Potatoes first,” he told himself, dumping out the five pound bag on the counter. The heavy red lumps rolled around, many falling off the counter and scattering along the tiled floor. He cursed and chased after them, picking them up one at at time and juggling them in his arms. Tossing the entire mess of potatoes into a pot, he filled it to the brim with water, then set it on the stove before peeking at his recipe again. He squinted at the screen. “Wash the potatoes? They’re already in water. Good enough, I suppose.”

Turning the stove burner on, he went back to his phone and skimmed over the fried chicken recipe. “This can’t be that hard… KFC fries a million chickens a day.” Too intimidated to fry a whole chicken, Lavi had opted for portioned meat—legs, wings, thighs, and breasts. He winced as he opened the packaging, letting out a sound of disgust as he touched the raw meat. He eyeballed the directions on his phone again, making sure he had everything right.

Setting the meat aside, he put together the batter. Beaten eggs sat in one large plastic bowl on the counter, and a mix of flour and spices in another. With a heavy sigh, he looked from the meat, to the eggs, to the flour.

Lavi grabbed a chicken leg, one of the least intimidating portions of the chicken, and looked from one bowl to the other. As the recipe instructed, he dipped the meat into the flour, then the eggs, then back into the flour. He stared at the sticky mess as he finished the leg per the directions, frowning. “Okay… This looks wrong.”

Wasn’t the chicken breading supposed to be… thicker? He swore it was… Maybe the instructions weren’t right?

With a shrug, he set the chicken leg down on the counter and grabbed the bowl of eggs, pouring it into the flour mixture. He mixed it up, stirring it with fork until it resembled the consistency of dough. Lavi tilted his head, then grabbed a handful of the sticky concoction, smearing it over the chicken leg he’d been working on earlier.

“Mmm, yeah. This looks better.” He said the words to no one, though even to his own ears, they sounded less convincing than he’d hoped.

Now to start the oil…

Allen brushed back the white bangs from his forehead, heaving a sigh as he climbed the steps of his apartment building. Work had been long and he was glad to be done for the night, but it would be worth it when he saw the extra cash on his paycheck at the end of the week. He was ready to kick off his shoes and relax on the futon—maybe even catch up on some of the shows he’d been missing while working such long hours. However, as he reached the fourth floor landing and walked towards his apartment, he smelled something strange. Something burning? Maybe Miranda had burnt her microwave popcorn in the apartment next to his and Lavi’s. That always made an impressive stink for such a little bag.

But his suspicions were thrown out the window as he opened the door and stepped inside.

Smoke hung along the ceiling of the apartment, filling the whole living space with a burnt, oily smell. He heard cussing and something crash in the kitchen. Kicking the door closed, Allen dropped his bag on the floor and rushed to the source of the noise, panic blossoming in his chest. “Lavi! Are you all right?!”

To say the kitchen was a mess would’ve been a grave understatement—even disaster held less weight than warranted. No, the kitchen had become a war zone.

Something had boiled over on the stove, a thick, starchy substance covering most of the glass top. Splotches of food and puddles of water, or what he hoped was water, covered the floor and counters. Smoke hung in the air, but was slowly filtering out of the room through an open window. And there, next to a sink piled high with dirty dishes, stood Lavi.

The redhead coughed as he lifted the lid off a smoking pan sitting on the counter, peering into it for a moment before shaking his head and pulling away. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Allen stood at the threshold, his jaw hung loose as he took in the scene. “Lavi… What happened?”

Embarrassment burning brightly in his cheeks, Lavi sighed as his shoulders dropped low. “I was… trying to cook you dinner,” he said, voice soft and feeble, like broken man.

Allen blinked and looked around the room again. “Well,” he began, finally stepping into the mess. “I’ll give you an A for effort.” He met Lavi at the counter, wiping at a smudge of something stuck to Lavi’s cheek.

“This is all a mess. I’m sorry, Al.” Lavi dropped the lid back on the pan he’d been checking earlier and ran a hand through his messy hair. “It was supposed to be a nice surprise so you could relax after work. Now it’s all ruined.”

Allen peered into one of the open pots, finding a thick, gluey glob of something white in it. “What were you trying to make?”

Lavi winced as Allen inspected his ruined meal. “That was supposed to be mashed potatoes. I was trying to fry up some chicken, too. The only thing I didn’t ruin was the asparagus, because I never got to it.”

“Oh, Lavi.” Allen chuckled softly as he turned back to his boyfriend and hugged him tightly. “I love you, but let’s not try this again.”

“Agreed,” Lavi mumbled back, falling into the embrace with gusto. When they pulled apart, he sighed and rubbed at his good eye. “You go relax while I get this cleaned up. I guess I’ll order another pizza for tonight.”

Without hesitation, Allen took Lavi’s hands in his, stopping him before he reached for the mop. “How about this? I help you with this mess, then we get cleaned up and go out for dinner?”

“I can’t ask you to help me with this. You just got off work.”

“Which means I’m also still in work mode.” Allen stood on his tip-toes, pulling Lavi down for a quick kiss on the lips. “C’mon. We’ll get this cleaned in no time.”

“Allen, you’re a prince,” Lavi swooned, leaning down to steal another kiss before Allen could slip away to work on the pile of dishes in the sink.

He grinned back, mischief in his silver eyes. “If I’m a prince, then I expect a princely meal.”

Lavi chuckled as he dumped what had once been potatoes into the garbage can. “Medieval Times it is, then.”

[dismalzelenka]

20 Questions

@buttsonthebeach tagged me in the getting to know you meme, but since I did that one recently I took the liberty of breaking the rules and finding another tag meme to answer instead. >:Dc

1. One thing you would change in your personality?

The constant undercurrent of social anxiety that renders me completely unable to speak coherently at the worst possible moments. I would love to have steady employment, social anxiety. Please stop cockblocking my job status. :^)

2. What is your DA rare pair?

MARIAN HAWKE AND RALEIGH SAMSON

GO RAID MY AO3, MY KIRKWALL TRASH HEAPS ARE WAITING

Sweetest Downfall

Arms Around the Past

3. A song that made you cry?

Passage by Vienna Teng. I've never had a song get me completely unglued on the last six words before this.

4. The best movie ever?

Love, Actually.

Fight me.

5. Food you will never eat?

C I L A N T R O >:(

6. Your celebrity crush?

Felicia Day. Mark of the Assassin DESTROYED me. 😅

7. Your favorite DA location and why?

Vigil's Keep. Because like. You're the head dumpster fire, in charge of recruiting more dumpster fires, and also you're apparently running an Arling that you never asked for and you have to deal with all these shitty nobles all the time but YOUR DUMPSTER FIRES are all right there beside you and you have the best papa dumpster fire ever who kicks nobles out of your dumpster fire house when you're tired of partying and basically it's this tiny fucked up little family and you all stumble down to breakfast in the morning in various states of hung over except for that one dwarf guy who's probably still drunk, you eat your eggs and toast in cranky silence, and then you go be big goddamn heroes.

....I really loved Awakening ok. Fite me.

8. You’re a night or a morning person?

I'm like a "night but the part of night where it's technically morning right up til morning" kind of person.

9. You have any tattoos?

Yus.

Nobody sigil from Kingdom Hearts wrapped in a treble clef between my shoulder blades.

A design of Helios on my left upper arm with "Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken" underneath it because House Martell prideeee.

The Arabic word for "cat" on my left forearm, drawn to look like a cat.

I'm saving up for a griffon tattoo and maybe a stylized one of "can I get you a ladder so you can get off my back?" :3

10. How many languages you speak?

Fluent in English. Can understand Korean fairly well, but can't speak it quite as easily. Basic fluency in Italian. I can read it much better that I can speak it.

11. Where would you most like to visit?

The mountains in South Korea. I was born there and I've only ever been back to Seoul and a village on the outskirts where my grandparents lived. I want to spend like a week or so out there under the stars. ❤️

12. What’s the best book you’ve read?

The Poisonwood Bible.

So I was forced to read this in high school. And I went to a Baptist high school, so of course when I saw this summary of it I immediately went "oh fuck no."

"The Poisonwood Bible, by Barbara Kingsolver, is a bestselling novel about a missionary family, the Prices, who in 1959 move from the U.S. state of Georgia to the village of Kilanga in the Belgian Congo, close to the Kwilu River."

Like. I was FULLY prepared to grit my teeth and spark notes another goddamn glorified colonialism story.

And then I read the damn thing.

And y'all this book is FUCKED UP. That missionary family? It's told from the POV of all of the daughters as they watch their father get more and more fanatical and abusive, as they struggle with culture shock, NONE of them wanted to be here, the majority of them slowly start to lose their faith and abandon their religion.

One of the girls is very clearly neurodivergent, but she's not really written as a character you're supposed to feel sorry for, and she's a total badass.

It has its problematic elements, but I think the fact that it's now seared indelibly into my brain is because I was 100% expecting a fucked up pro missionary story and ended up finding a story of the shit that happens to everyone else in the periphery of said pro missionary stories.

Was incredibly surprised to have read this in my AP Lit class at a Baptist high school, but goddamn, it shook me.

13. Who is your favourite BioWare character?

A N D E R S

Anders is my boy. I will ride or die for Anders. Anders was right. Fuck the Chantry. F I T E M E.

Bonus: fine Dwarven crafts, direct from Orzammar

14. Who’s your least preferred BioWare character?

Going to stick to Dragon Age because I'm too tired to rummage through my brain for other fandoms. And there's so many people I hate in Mass Effect. Hah.

Anyway. Livius Erimond kind of grinded my gears a lot, so much so that in my first mage playthrough I pissed off a ton of people and made him Tranquil. Like. My entire inner circle disapproved, it was fucking amazing. I'll never be able to make myself do it again because I felt so dirty after that I literally had to pause the game and take a shower, but man. Erimond is really good at pressing buttons.

15. What’s your favourite game?

Dragon Age Inquisition and Mass Effect 3. And Neverwinter Nights: Hordes of the Underdark. Valen Shadowbreath was my first bioware love.

16. What’s your spirit animal patronus?

According to Pottermore it's a dragonfly but I'm pretty sure it's actually a cat.

Going with patronus instead of spirit animal because I've been asked to avoid appropriating that term as someone who is not of Native ancestry, and so I shall. Respect indigenous cultures. ✌️❤️

17. Cake or ice cream?

Fine Dwarven cakes, direct from Orzammar. Preferably almond or Chantilly. :D

18. Dogs or cats?

🐈 Kitties 🐈

19. What was your favourite DA romance?

3 Way Tie (although this could change since I haven't done all of them myself.)

Anders - because his whole arc is just so FUCK THE CHANTRY and he's such a Good Person who is Struggling and at the end of the day he's a soft feathery boy who loves you and cares about making people not hurt anymore and also is into some wild shit in bed and also loves cats. Let's be mentally ill cuddly softs together, Anders, I will give you my everything always, my soft feathery mage boy. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Leliana - soft but stabby song princess becomes the pope and her devoted girlfriend wife swoons quietly through all of it.

Cullen - weirdly enough, I did not expect to enjoy this romance as much as I did. I kind of hated him in the first two games, like when I ran into him in 2 I still hadn't forgiven him for the "KILL ALL THE MAGES" outburst and was just like. "Ugh it's this motherfucker." And then I saw him again in Inquisition and was like WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHITHEAD DOING HERE? HE'S FIRED. FIRE HIM, CASSANDRA.

But then Cassandra never reciprocated my affections, Blackwall yelled at me on the battlements about propriety and we're at war so I dumped him, and then Vivienne turned me down and I was like FINE FUCK ALL Y'ALL I'M GONNA SMOOCH CULLEN OUT OF SPITE.

And then he's all like. "I went through some shit. I said some really fucked up stuff. Also I'm trying to get clean and it's literally killing me but I don't want anything to do with that old life anymore." And the chess scene, and then me getting really personally enraged at all the Orlesians copping nonconsensual feels at Halamshiral and then I woke up one day and was like wow OK this dude's alright, he's even kind of cute, I guess I can-

"marry me?" "OKAY YES."

*shrug* I'm weak.

20. Do you prefer sunshine or are you a winter person?

Sunshine in winter, ideally, but if I have to choose between one or the other, winter.

Anyway. I broke rules, oops. Gonna tag @sasshole-for-rent @suzumicchi @joufancyhuh @laraslandlockedblues @becauseanders @inner-muse @ladymdc @agentkatie @kawakaeguri @a-shakespearean-in-paris @ekoorb03 @lyrium-lovesong @5ftgarden

[jennacolore-blog]

It Feels Like Falling

Date: 1/26/2017 What: Jenna’s late afternoon therapy session. Recovering from trauma doesn’t prove as easy as Jenna was hoping. Triggers: Death mentions, panic attacks, mentions of PTSD, going off medications (I’m not sure what else to tag this, apologizes), nightmares

“And how did you sleep last night?” The words touched her ears, but they did not sink in. She did not process the words that routinely spilled forth from her therapist. 

“Jenna?” The brunette looked up from where she sat cross-legged on the couch, half torn tissue between her fingers. She leaned back against the couch cushion, eyes blown wide as she finally realized she had zoned out again. It had four months of this, and sometimes it just go so monotonous that she couldn’t help herself. 

“I’m sorry, what was the question?” Her voice was gravelly, exhaustion evident in the tone of her voice-- as if the dark circles under her eyes weren’t enough. Covering them with makeup was easy. She had gotten good at it over the past few months. However, she never bothered during her therapy sessions. Somehow, she thought it was a jab at her doctor for being so incapable of helping her.

“How did you sleep last night?”

“As good as I’ve slept every night since... you know.” Nightmares had plagued her sleep since the last time she had heard from James. However, they rotated. At first, it was just her reliving dark memories of the torture she had endured. Then, they started to evolve. It was like her brain somehow knew that she was getting use to the same pain every night. Back when she was still hurt from James leaving, it would be him dying while she was tied to that godawful chair. After she started to move on from James, it became other people that were close to her. Her family, Rick, Sutton-- anyone that she held close to her, she had watched die in her sleep for almost two months. And it wasn’t getting better no matter what she tried to do to get rid of the dreams. 

“Well, that’s okay. Getting better takes time--”

“How much time?” Jenna barked out, a little more aggressively than she had intended too. 

“As much time as it takes.” Her therapist responded calmly. To Dr. Pearson’s credit, she had been dealing with Jenna’s need for instant gratification well over the past few weeks. 

“What kind of an answer is that? I... it’s been four months since everything happened. Shouldn’t I be better by now?” Her voice shook with pain, tears welling in her eyes. After all the pain she had endured, all she wanted to do was feel normal again.

“Not, necessarily Jenna. Some people take years to get to a good place to again, and even then, what happened to you will have lifelong effects.” 

Jenna figured Dr. Pearson would go on, but she stopped listening. She couldn’t listen anymore, or she would be sick to her stomach. Her therapist, as hard as she tried, was beginning to sound like a broken record. She would have the same answers for Jenna every time she asked what she believed to be a simple question. It was always something about opening up, talking about it more, working through things, or giving it time. And that just wasn’t enough for Jenna. Silent tears followed familiar paths across her cheeks, slipping off her chin. 

“Jenna,” Her name brought her back to reality again. 

“I’m sorry, I just can’t keep doing this,” Jenna said, standing up, strands of hair falling lose from her ponytail, and sticking to the tear tracks on her cheek. “This isn’t doing anything for me. It’s a waste of my time and my money, and I can’t keep going on like this.”

“Jenna, I’ve told you, this takes time--”

“Yes, that’s all you’ve been telling me for months on end. You haven’t said anything that’s changed that, or made me feel like I’m getting closer to some sort of resolution.” She argued, grabbing her purse at this point. 

“Well, let me help you find someone who can get you to that point, Jenna. You need professional help, you’re ill.” Dr. Pearson said, standing as well now. She really did just want what was best for Jenna, and somewhere she knew that, but it didn’t change the fact that she needed out. 

“No-- no. I’m done with this therapy thing, okay? I cannot keep talking about this and hoping it’ll get better.” 

“Jenna--”

“No, I need to go.” She could hear Dr. Pearson calling her name as she walked out of the office without looking back. 

Jenna could hardly focus on the road on her way home. Tears fell freely and silently, as she focused her cold stare straight ahead. Her mind was a web of dark and angry thoughts, beating slowly against the inside of her skull. Thoughts of how heavy of a burden she carried, the thought of the fact that she was having to play games with her chemical makeup, because of PTSD and depression. More importantly, though, her brain started to fill up with those evil thoughts that always filled her with unimaginable pain.

‘You are too broken’ ‘You are intolerable’ ‘You’re friends won’t want to be around you if they see you like this’ ‘How can you let something like this get to you? Aren’t you the strong one?’ ‘You drive people away.’ ‘Stop being a martyr.’ 

Jenna didn’t remember any of the drive, but she had parked by the building at this point, and she let out a shaky and shallow breath. She tried again for a full breath, but it was even shorter. She tried again. And again. And again. But every breath seemed shorter to the last until she was just gasping for air, and her whole body shook violently. She white knuckled her steering wheel, throwing her head back against the driver’s seat in her car as anger mixed with her inconsolable panic attack.

Finally, when Jenna felt able to walk, she got out of her car. Her breaths were still far too shallow, and her head was pounding too loud in her ears as she made her way inside the building. The tears were welling in her eyes again, but she bit down on her bottom lip, chewing so hard, she finally broke skin as the taste of copper filled her mouth. She stood on the elevator, barely breathing, as she got to her floor. The walk to her room seemed longer, and unlocking the door seemed to be an impossible mission, but finally she did it. The panic inside her began to subside, but the anger didn’t. The anger was still there, and burning hotter than it usually did.

She pulled the hem of her shirt up to her face before letting out a scream that made her throat ache, the fabric being the only thing to muffle the sound from ringing through her apartment. Fresh tears began to spill, and Jenna only wanted to scream again. But it wasn’t doing anything to scream. She was still angry no matter how often it happened, she still had to deal with the pain seeded deep inside of her.

Throwing her stuff down on the ground with a thud that echoed in her head, Jenna practically dove for the bathroom. Pill bottles sat on the counter next to her toothbrush looking innocent. But Jenna knew that they weren’t. 

Those pills had seeped into her mind, forcing the chemicals to falsify her feelings. They were hiding everything, just like she was. They were nothing more than a good cover up, and she had just been letting it happen to her for months on end. Jenna fought back tears while her stomach churned over the ache in her head and her soul as she grabbed the two bottles. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet, shaking hands eventually coaxing the lids open. She dumped the remnants of both bottles into the toilet. And flushed.

Bile began to rise in her throat as she watched the pills disappear soon followed by the contents of her stomach.