#gone but she projects her issues onto everyone and everything around her like she cannot comprehend that maybe she has a fucking problem and

[frankensteinmutual]

one of my housemates is so fucking sensitive it turns me into a person I do not like

[mermaidsirennikita]

what were your top 10 LEAST FAVORITE movies of 2023 (so far....)

Oh, OLIVIA. Off to your letterboxd I go!!!

But some immediate ... recent... additions:

Maestro--This is the most obnoxiously Oscar bait-y, vanity project-y movie I've seen in a long time. Like, I'm not inherently opposed to Oscar bait, I think a movie can be Oscar bait and also good. But this... I'm not super impressed by Carey or Bradley in general (I did love him with ASIB but I think he benefited from several external factors) and here??? Dry as a bone. She was better than him, but WHO WOULDN'T BE because he was giving the most try hard, bullshit performance. And cutting down Bernstein's sexuality to an OFFENSIVE and confusing degree. What even was Bernstein's relationship with Felicia? Where did that shit where she was all YOU'RE SO HATEFUL from??? I though she hated him because he was fucking around their entire marriage (even though the script implied she was... down? At one point?) and suddenly she's all YOU'RE HATEFUL AND YOU'RE GONNA DIE A LONELY OLD QUEEN. What??? And as someone who didn't know much about Bernstein going in beyond his sexuality, I feel like I still don't know much.

Priscilla--Similarly bad biopic anchored by a completely flat performance by a woman who's getting acclaim because she is the white girl of the week who everyone claims is so amazing and transformative because she has no distinguishing features and a flat affect everyone can project onto. Especially bad because Jacob Elordi can't maintain an accent to save his life and the movie was incapable of translating the incredible crush Priscilla would've felt underneath both his persona and his fame. I never got the sense of this guy's fame, and Elvis was INSANELY famous at his peak. I thought it was just bad, dude. And I frankly don't know why we felt the need for this liberation narrative when the sad truth is that Priscilla's entire career has been based on this idea that she's Elvis's widow (when they'd been divorced for years when he died and he was actually in a serious relationship with another woman when he died). And you know what? She has a right to that. I don't have an issue with that. I don't think she would've ever made as much money doing anything else, and he stole her childhood so go off. BUT. That does undermine a liberation narrative for me, and I can't get over it, especially because Priscilla has been so (willingly) in the press for the past couple of years.

Saltburn--Emerald Fennell cannot write a script and Emerald Fennell doesn't direct a super interesting movie, aside from some interesting (if not super original) visuals. I've already gone off about this movie. Barry gave a fun performance. Jacob gave him jack shit.

Anyone But You--I don't know if I'd even be as outraged about this if people didn't hype it up, but lol. It's dumb. It feels like a mid to bad romcom from 2005, which makes it worse in 2023. Finding out that the director/writer directed Easy A back in the day was suuuuch a reveal. He redid the retelling conceit, the Natasha Bedingfield deal, and the obnoxious vibes.

After Everything--Look, I didn't expect to like this, at all lol, but I did expect some laughs because I did in fact cry laughing at a couple of the other movies. BUT. TESSAH wasn't even in this for more than five minutes. Which, bless that actress, VALID. But this was like. Bad and not even bad with unintentionally funny moments??? It was mostly about Hardon??? No.

Your Place Or Mine--Can you believe this came out this year? They created a movie... so dry... and devoid of chemistry. A great example of why chemistry is important and how Hollywood has stopped caring.

Love Again--Sam Heughan. What happened. This is another one where I'm like you could've given me something. It was kind of a Celine Dion tribute piece with Celine as fairy godmother and I love Celine. But so boring. So forgettable.

Ghosted--Hideously bad. Ana de Armas is over for me lmao. I mean, she was already, but I was gonna give her a fun little romcom. Holy shit. Bad. Horrible. I kept waiting for a fun twist. NoPE!

What's Love Got to Do With It?--Bad, racist, I HATE its depiction of arranged marriage and the white bystanders gawking at it, ew ew ew hate.

Magic Mike's Last Dance--DUDE. DUDE WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS. WHAT THE FUCK. HE DIDN'T EVEN STRIP. WHERE WAS THE STRIPPING. WHAT HAPPENED. This movie, to me, is literally the perfect encapsulation of how bad sexlessness has become in media. Can't even fucking watching a fucking Magic Mike movie without some ass. Jesus Christ. What's happened to the world.

[topknotstrunk]

Review Everything 24 - Evangelion 3.0+1.01 Thrice Upon A Time:

It’s the little details I love. Mari signing her song for her own entertainment while she waits to be deployed, the Grip Shoes literally having Grip Shoes printed on them, Mari’s blast impact crosses being pink, little things that make the world feel real and lived in. It’s one of my favorite details about eh original show, too.

Kinda cool getting to see everyone in their plug suits, but I do miss when the boys also had boobie armor.

Seeing other locations besides Middle of the Ocean, the whole earth, and Tokyo 3 was pretty cool. I dislike the red wash that literally everything has but that color is from the 3rd impact and hey, Post-Apocalypse gonna Post-Apocalypse. It’s really cool seeing normal color restored when the red gets wiped out, but the red is difficult to look at while it’s there.

I didn’t realize how much I missed the high-octane Eva battling things that weren't other Eva with the pilots all verbally sparring with each other until Mari’s fight at the beginning of this movie. Watching her pilot her injured Eva like a driver in a Fast and the Furious scene was incredibly fun. I really like Mari a lot, and I’m glad we get some screen time where she’s the feature this time.

At the same time I cannot get over how goofy the Wunder and half the enemy robots are. It really lives up to its name of being a Wunderwaffe with how goofy it is and all the shit its expected to do. Wunder being a battleship plus an arc to hold a backup of all the living material is… weird. Why would you bring your arc into battle where it could be easily destroyed? I guess having it be able to protect itself is smart, but its secondary nature, and the thing we see it spend most of its time doing benign fighting feels like bad strategy. At least they launched them into space for the final battle.

Speaking of big, silly robots I wonder if the row of walking robots in the Paris scene were meant to be an on purpose reference to the Can Can or not. Because if it’s not, that’s pretty funny, and if it is that’s hilarious, and either way it makes the enemy a little difficult to take seriously as a threat

I don’t know if this is actually true or if this is a thing I’ve picked up from Japanese media as a trope and am now projecting onto this movie, but my understanding is that Japanese culture has a much stronger “it takes a village” mentality when it comes to kids than the US has. And overall they seem, from an outsider’s perspective, to value the safety and comfort of everyone as a whole as highly or maybe more so than personal safety and comfort. If that is true it really does shine through in the way everyone is treating Rei in this movie. Sure, she’s a fuckin’ weirdo, but who isn’t these days? What’s more important is to answer her questions, teach her some stuff, and get her up  and working as a valuable member of society who can take care of herself and contribute what she can rather than mock or shun her. One thing benefits your personal emotions in the short term, and the other has the potential to benefit all of Humankind in the long term, with the guarantee of helping the person directly and those around her in the short term. Like one small example of this attitude is when Rei is helping plant rice seedlings and when she trips and falls backward onto all the hard work they’ve just done the ladies helping her learn to plant rice have a chuckle at her fall and then help her fix the issue. She isn’t scolded, she doesn't get in trouble or get punished, because Rei being comfortable and confident in her rice planting skills and everyone getting along is more important. It was cool to see that element of Japanese culture I’ve come to expect be true.

The depth of Shinji’s grief and trauma really hits in this movie. The joke in the fandom is that he’s a screechey little baby but he’s gone through a lot of shit, and this time it really feels real. Like this is how someone in that situation would actually react. It’s difficult to watch, but that’s part of what makes it work so well.

Most of the rest of the animation was either gorgeous to watch or impressive. A lot of the CG heavy scenes were not to my taste but I could recognize the skill that went into making them.

The one thing I was really hoping for from this final Rebuild movie was some forward movement. I want the story to go on, not loop back in on itself and start over again. Just because Shinji spends a lot of his time navel gazing doesn’t mean that the whole franchise should. I wasn’t looking for a good ending, or a bad ending, or even really an ending at all. I just want the story to start to move on, a hint that there is something more for these characters then to be stuck in a perpetual hell of Eva and Angel battles. And that’s pretty much what I got. Of course, I have been burned before, but until something comes out that argues this isn’t the ending of this version of Eva’s reality, I will believe that the ending we’re presented with is the true one.

I like the return, at the end of the movie, to Shinji talking to his Dad. The flashes of still images and sketches were a cool Homage to the original series that didn’t stick around long enough to become too corny. In this show based on inspiration from Christianity it made sense that Shinj’s Father was like Shinji in many ways, that Shinji had to atone for the sins of his Father, that Shinji had to sacrifice himself to rescue everyone. Being as big a Madoka Magica nerd as I am, it felt a little weird to have Shinji have his Madoka moment, but it worked, so that was all right. Seeing parallels in this version of Eva to two of my other all time favorite media, Madoka Magica and The Dark Tower series, that obviously says more about me and my interests then it does anything about Eva, but still. Indomitable Human spirit rising over and over from the ashes, ready to try anew once more, hoping for each result to be just a bit better than the last time. That’s the good shit. And man was getting to see those blue ocean waves at the end of the movie cathartic.

A criticism that has nothing to do with the movie but I want to complain about it anyway: Amazon’s X-Ray feature needs a retool. At 8:11 into the movie X-Ray is crediting Kaworu as being in the movie which, for me, was spoilers. I want the feature to either only ever show actors that are actively on screen [which I believe was the original intention] or for it to have to wait to show actors until AFTER someone says their name in the movie. I have this same complaint with  Closed Captioning. A character should be labeled something like Unknown until the audience actually sees who it is. Don’t tell me the reveal until the audience not using CC would also get it, geeze.

In summary: I think I liked this movie best out of all the Rebuild series. We really needed some time for Shinji and Rei to develop as characters, and Shinji was able to carry that growth forward through the movie. I am sad this is all there is to watch, but happy that I finally sat down and watched the movies, because now I’ve seen all of Eva.

Overall: 8/10

[nillegible]

the JGY amnesia Fic

[AN: Someday I will come up with decent titles for my fics... but not now XD I hope you like this fic, the premise is that the issue with XY and NMJ happens before JZX’s death, and so the argument and the stairs moves up in the timeline! And JGY hits his head and gets TV-show amnesia, and remembers no one, not even himself, but is otherwise his sharp, suspicious self...]

He wakes up sure that he is dying, nothing else could hurt so sharp, agonizing pain radiating out from the back of his head, stabbing sharply every time he is swung, and he forces his eyes open. The light burns, but he can make out an earth green and brown collar, and a strong jawline. He is being carried by this man.

He doesn’t know who this is, but he feels… safe. Even though every step this man takes makes his eyes water.

He blacks out.

*

His name is Jin Guangyao. It rolls smoothly off his tongue, but sits wrongly in his mind. “Temporary amnesia,” the doctor had informed him, when Jin Guangyao could not tell him the answers to any pf his questions; not his name, or the date, or where they were.

A fancy young master in white-and-gold robes, who introduces himself as Jin Zixuan, is the one who sits by his side and tells Jin Guangyao the basics of his life. There is such an obvious lack of detail that it leaves him intrigued. And Jin Zixuan looks ashamed when Jin Guangyao asked if he was Jin Zixuan’s uncle. “No, I’m your older brother,” he says. “We… we share a birthday, but you’re a day younger.”

Jin Guangyao watches him for a moment, and wonders at the source of his brother’s shame. “I’m a bastard, aren’t I?” he asks.

“My father legitimized you!” Jin Zixuan protests. “You’re my brother.”

Jin Guangyao smiles at him. This man is clearly naïve, but has no ill-intent. The man who had named Jin Guangyao Jin Guangyao, however? He is yet to ascertain that.

*

Jin Guangyao’s memory doesn’t return within the first week. With his head injury healed, though, he’s allowed to leave the infirmary which allows him to collect a lot more useful data.

There is a lot of work piled up in his room. Disorganized, as if someone had gone through it to take the important paperwork to work on while he is <infirm>. That he was assigned so much work that was non-essential makes him wonder if he was actually pretty low on the social ladder, here. He goes through all of them anyway, most of it is useful information, painting a picture of Jin sect’s activities, and the sorts of projects that they allow to drag on for weeks. Jin Guangyao has left meticulous notes in a separate notebook about how to put everything into a more sensible order. That such reworking was required

His accessories, or lack-there-of, are even more enlightening. There’s also a scholarly-sort of hat, and only a few cheap hair ribbons. Nothing at all like the intricate jade hairpins or crowns with intricate metalwork and precious stones that Jin Zixuan and Jin Zixun wore daily.

Jin Guangyao’s place here is… obvious.

He wonders who the man who had picked him up after his injury, was. No one tells him, not even Jin Zixuan, he just pats Jin Guangyao’s hand and says, “Don’t worry, you’re safe now.” The implications of that are obvious, of course, that the stranger was the one who had hurt him. And yet it’s a subject no one speaks of, of how Jin Guangyao had fallen down the thousand steps of Koi Tower, and he hadn’t asked after the first two times. He stays wary, watching everyone. Someone had tried to kill him, and he doesn’t even remember which of his acquaintances might want him dead.

*

Lan Xichen arrives two days after his release from the infirmary, Lan-Zongzhu, according to everyone else. He’s beautiful, the most beautiful person that Jin Guangyao has ever seen. Since he remembers all of a week, this doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Jin Guangyao could probably search for decades and not find anyone more beautiful. It would not be fair.

They have tea together, after Lan Xichen – “Call me er-ge, you are my sworn brother, A-Yao,” – has checked him over worriedly, and checked his meridians, and pressed his fingertips gently to the back of Jin Guangyao’s head, to where his head injury had been, and ascertained that he truly is well.

“They did not tell me you were injured,” he says. “Da-ge had to, and this is the week of new students for the summer lectures, I could not leave. Jin Zixuan promised me you were well, though,” he says. Sincerity shines through him, and Jin Guangyao wonders what on earth he, an unwelcome child in his own family, could have done to make this man care for him.

So he asks.

Lan Xichen describes a heroic young man, who gave him shelter when he needed it most, who had smiled and laughed at him, and helped him with chores he could not do, and gave him the strength to fight a war. Lan Xichen tells him that this kind young man had gone into a war that did not affect him, only to help, that he had turned spy against a raging mad man, and finally taken off his head.

“So that is why my father took me in,” says Jin Guangyao. There’s a flicker of pain on Lan Xichen’s face as Jin Guangyao tells him what he’s surmised about how he’s treated here. “Did you know?” asks Jin Guangyao.

“I suspected,” Lan Xichen says softly. “But you were too proud to tell me. You insisted you were happy here. I visited when I could, but I never… I’m so sorry.”

Jin Guangyao reaches out to pat Lan Xichen’s hand, it feels so familiar, even if Jin Guangyao can’t remember doing it before. He must have, Lan Xichen’s sad face cannot be borne. “I’m sure I didn’t want to bother you, er-ge. You’re overworking yourself even now.” The signs are there, even behind his flawless composure. “You look so tired.”

“I had to come,” says Lan Xichen. “I was so scared that you…” He trails off, then turns his hand, holding onto him tightly. “If you don’t remember your place at Koi tower, do you want to return with me until your memory recovers? We’re still reconstructing, but Cloud Rececsses is still an excellent place to ”

“This Jin Guangyao is honoured, but what if it doesn’t?” asks Jin Guangyao practically. “I can’t just leave my home like that.” More quietly, he adds, “There must have been some reason I didn’t leave before.”

“You never said, exactly, but I believe it was because of your mother,” says Lan Xichen. “She wished that you would gain your father’s recognition, and a place at Koi Tower.”

“Do you know anything about her?” Jin Guangyao is not an idiot, he knows from the snide remarks, the way that people try not to touch him that he is of low birth, that his mother’s occupation was. That. He wonders if Lan Xichen will lie to him.

“She was an educated woman,” he says. “A renowned beauty. You’ve told me that you take after her, in many ways. She was skilled in the arts. She never taught you art but she was your master in calligraphy and music. She loved you very much and wanted you to have a good education because she knew… she knew that A-Yao is so incredibly smart and destined for greater things.” He squeezes Jin Guangyao’s hand. “Her life was not easy. She suffered, but she loved you. She would be proud of you, to know how much you achieved.”

It should matter, it does matter, Jin Guangyao’s heart squeezes, but it is from sympathy for what Lan Xichen is feeling. The dark honey-gold eyes are bright with tears. Clearly Jin Guangyao had loved her very much, before. But Jin Guangyao cannot find in him any love for a woman that Jin Guangyao cannot imagine. A woman with his face, a prostitute, but educated, talented. And ambitious to have Jin Guangshan’s son.

“My father did not take her in, I gather?”

“He did not. She died of illness shortly before I met you.”

“Thank you for telling me,” says Jin Guangyao.

*

Lan Xichen stays an entire afternoon, and readies himself to leave at dusk. Jin Guangyao accompanies him to the sky-pavilion on Koi Tower that the Jin disciples use to take off from.

There’s a last nagging question that Jin Guangyao hadn’t managed to slide into the conversation, as it meandered into cultivation theory and Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen had tried to piece out some kind of pattern in what kinds of cultivation knowledge he had retained, and what he had forgotten. It had been an interesting exercise.

“Er-ge, before you go,” says Jin Guangyao. He looks around cautiously, but no one is near enough to overhear. “You’re older than Jin Zixuan, aren’t you?” he asks, and Lan Xichen nods. “So our da-ge… you never said. Is he… did he die during the war?”

“No!” cries Lan Xichen. “A-Yao no, he’s not. He’s fine, he just could not find time to visit.”

Lie.

It’s the first time Lan Xichen has lied to him today, but Jin Guangyao is certain of it.

“No one talks about him, and I couldn’t find any letters from him. I did find a few of yours. No one even says his name. Who is he?”

“Nie Mingjue,” says Lan Xichen, sounding defeated. “Of course you would think to ask, but his name is Nie Mingjue.”

Everything falls into place. Jin Guangyao has seen some Nie disciple couriers on their way to private meetings with his father and the Jin council of elders. Hard faced and angry looking, they kept to themselves and departed the moment they could, without staying for a meal or entertainment.

“You think he pushed me down the stairs,” says Jin Guangyao.

“No,” says Lan Xichen. “We know he did. He kicked you down the stairs. He–”

“And you believe that?” asks Jin Guangyao.

“Of course I do,” says Lan Xichen. “Da-ge was the one who told me. I knew that things were difficult between the two of you, recently, but I had not imagined… It does not matter, we are looking through the records now, so that you can be free of your vows to him, and even if we can’t find something, he won’t visit Koi Tower again, Jin-zongzhu has forbidden it.”

“Oh,” says Jin Guangyao, mind whirring. “Okay then.”

“Is A-Yao afraid we’re covering something up?” asks Lan Xichen. Jin Guangyao is not sure what gave it away, he thought he’d kept his face smooth.

“Naturally I trust er-ge,” he says, smiling up at him. “I just remember him, vaguely. He picked me up. He saved me.”

It’s Jin Guangyao’s first memory, pained and fragmented though it is.

“He did take you up to the infirmary right after,” Lan Xichen agrees. He looks faintly puzzled, like he’s not sure why that matters to Jin Guangyao.

“I understand,” says Jin Guangyao. “Nie-zongzhu would of course regret his action after his moment of anger.”

“He does,” Lan Xichen assures him. “You should write to him, if you are willing to accept his apologies, but Da-ge is terribly sorry.”

“Thank you er-ge, I will,” Jin Guangyao promises. The relief on Lan Xichen’s face is too pure for this world.

He waves goodbye after Lan Xichen takes off, and steps back into the maze of Koi Tower, mulling over all the new knowledge that Lan Xichen had brought with him. He was right, he should write to Nie Mingjue.

But after some more research.

What could they have possibly quarrelled about so badly?

Jin Guangyao makes his way back to his rooms, keeping his face expressionless at the gilded opulence and overt unfriendliness of his home. He doesn’t understand his past self at all.

Why does he still live here, where he’s so clearly unwanted?

Why did he even care for the acknowledgement of Jin Guangshan, who from even just Jin Guangyao’s few interactions this week and the gossip he’s picked up, is a selfish, disgusting pervert who wouldn’t spit on Jin Guangyao if he was on fire.

Just because his mother wanted him to?

She was a good woman, he hears again, in Lan Xichen’s sincere voice. But Jin Guangyao doesn’t get it. She had to have been a fool, to believe in Jin Guangshan, or terribly cold and cruel to send him to Jin Guangshan knowing exactly what kind of derision would await him here. He is a war hero, and yet he’s treated like a servant.

Jin Guangyao is in the mood to be charitable, so he picks the former.

He still doesn’t know why he stayed.

[You can now read part 2 here!]

[heliads]

Partnership

When Y/N L/N is paired with Draco Malfoy for a Potions assignment, she assumes it’s just her bad luck. However, the two may have more in common than she’d thought.

masterlist

The sky is a brilliant blue, dashed with the occasional white puffy cloud that looks like it came straight out of a picture book. It’s a beautiful day, by far one of the nicest days you’ve had in a while. And instead of enjoying it, you and your friends are walking down to the dungeons for Potions. Just perfect.

Glancing over, you see your same lackluster disappointment on the faces of Harry and Ron, two of your closest friends. Even Hermione, who’s usually keen to get to class and learn some new and exciting piece of information, seems reluctant to trade in the golden glow of the sunlight for the dim, dull, and distant dungeons. 

It turns out you’re right to be unhappy- Potions class has barely started when Snape announces that you’ll be starting a project that will last about two weeks or so where you have to research and come up with your own potion alongside a partner. Most of the work will be completed outside of class, but on the final day of work the two partners will both have to successfully brew the newly created potion. Each partner will drink from their partner’s cauldron, and if you don’t immediately die or the potion works, you pass. You’ll be working in pairs of two, but just as you look eagerly to Hermione, Snape informs the class that he will be picking the partners.

Ron groans quietly. “So I guess I won’t be working with you, Harry.” Harry chuckles. “Not a chance. He’d never let the two of us get our way.” Hermione shrugs. “At least you know you won’t be working with Malfoy. He doesn’t hate Draco enough for that. Honestly, Y/N, I’d be worried about yourself. You’re a Ravenclaw, not a Gryffindor, so it isn’t outright treason to be paired with Malfoy.” You nod slowly. “That’s what I’m worried about. He won’t put any of you with Draco, and he probably won’t put Draco with Crabbe or Goyle either.”

Ron frowns at you, confused, and you clarify. “If Draco has to drink from Crabbe or Goyle’s potion, he’ll die. Snape wants to make sure Draco doesn’t get poisoned, so he’ll pick someone who’s actually competent.” Harry grins. “That would be good to see. Killed by his own best mates.” The rest of you dissolve into laughter that is just a hair too loud, as Snape glares at the four of you and a reprimand is issued from across the classroom. “Quiet, Potter! Ten points from Gryffindor!”

Ron makes a face once Snape’s back is turned. “Why didn’t he deduct any points from Y/N? She was there too!” You laugh at that. “It’s called the perks of not being in Gryffindor. Very helpful.” Across the room, Snape continues assigning partners. “Parkinson and Zabini, Thomas and Bulstrode… and Malfoy and L/N.”

You freeze in place. Snape clicks his tongue impatiently, and after a beat, you gather up your things and walk over to sit next to your partner just like everyone else in the room. Draco is evidently annoyed by this too, and he hisses something to Snape in a hushed voice. “I don’t want her as my partner! She’s Potter’s friend!” Snape just eyes him coolly. “She may be an associate of Potter, but as of right now both she and you are students under me, meaning that I and I alone have full jurisdiction of which partners you have. I would suggest you hold your tongue, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco leans back in his seat, clearly vexed. Snape moves on to other students, and Draco mutters under his breath. “He can’t talk to me like that.” You smirk at his annoyance. “He can and he will. Welcome to the real world, Malfoy. He’s like that to everyone.” Draco flashes you a glare and you hold your hands up defensively. “Hey, I don’t want to be here anymore than you do. Don’t think for a second that you’re anywhere near my first choice for partners.” Draco shakes his head. “Nor you for me. At least I know you won’t kill me- you are a Ravenclaw, after all.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Such glowing compliments. I’m touched.” Draco rolls his eyes. “All we have to do is get through two weeks and then I never have to see you again.” You toss him an obviously mocking smile. “Sounds perfect. I can’t wait to pretend we’ve never met.”

Snape switches to lecturing directly after he finishes assigning partners, so you don’t have any time to work on the project. Once he announces the end of class, you turn to Draco, expecting to talk about research for the potion you’re supposed to come up with, but to your surprise, the Slytherin boy is already walking quickly out of the room. You heave a frustrated sigh, then grab your things and follow him out resolutely.

You catch up with him in a courtyard on the grounds, and walk in front of him, forcing him to stop. He looks at you, bored. “What do you want?” You raise an eyebrow. “To talk about the project? If we want to get this done in two weeks we have to start research immediately.” Draco waves a hand at you dismissively. “Then go do it.” He moves to start walking again, but you step to the side and block his passage. “You’re joking if you think I’m doing all of this myself. We are both doing it, or nothing is going to happen.”

Draco folds his arms across his chest. “Do you know who I am? I’m a Malfoy, one of the best pure-blood families in the Wizarding World. I certainly do not have to do research with some Ravenclaw.” You laugh incredulously. “I don’t give a damn about your family. I mean, are you really going to cling to some false notion that your family is going to get you everywhere in life? We don’t all revolve around you, and your family certainly doesn’t either.”

Draco glares at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You stare at him in determination. “There’s going to be a time when you graduate from your final year at Hogwarts and you have to figure out just what to do with your life. A name can only get you so far out there, stop relying on it here.” Draco pretends he’s unaffected, but you can tell you’ve struck a nerve. 

“You’re wrong, L/N. My family can bring me more than you could even dream of in your wildest imagination. No matter where I go, I could have things handed on a platter to me while you have to work away all your life for half of them.” You consider him. “But what if you didn’t have to live like that? What if, for once in your life,  you were actually yourself instead of hiding behind your father’s shadow, scared of everything that he hasn’t briefed you on beforehand?”

Draco flinches, and you realize you’ve gone too far. “Do not disrespect my father like that. He is a good man, and you cannot talk about him like that. Why are you saying all of this, anyway? Because you’re mad at me for not wanting to study?” You shake your head softly. “I’m saying this because I know how it feels, to be trapped in between your family and your life. Let down your guard just this once. I promise you’ll be all the better for it.”

Draco looks at you, and for a second you think you’ve ruined everything, and that you’ll have to just go find yourself another Potions partner because he will never speak to you again. Then he nods, and holds out his hand. “Maybe you’re right. To being equals?” You stare at him for a second, then a smile starts to slip onto your face. “To being equals.”

You and Draco don’t meet up again until tomorrow, when you find yourself sitting opposite him at a table in the library. There are books on potions and potion ingredients in front of you, and the two of you stare down at them as if looking at them hard enough will automatically teach you how to brew a stellar potion.

Draco taps something on a newly turned page. “What about this? A Self-Switching potion? It seems easy enough, and we just make a simple version of it where you have the ability to change a few things about yourself. Like being a Metamorphmagus but only when you drink the potion.”

You nod slowly. “That sounds really good, actually.” You clasp your hands together, eyes starting to brighten with excitement as you consider the project ahead of you. “I think we could do it. I mean, it’s a basic chameleon potion so we could definitely do it in time. As for ingredients, I’m thinking some bicorn horn, dittany, maybe boomslang skin? Oh, we’d obviously have to have some essence of comfrey… Does a foxglove extract sound right, or is that more for other potions?”

You realize you’ve been chattering on for a while, and glance up from the book to see Draco looking at you with the most peculiar look on his face. There’s an easy smile crossing his lips, one you haven’t seen on him in a very long time. Perhaps not ever. You tilt your head at him, confused. “What?” Draco blinks slightly, coming back to reality. “Nothing. Uh, that sounds good.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, but turn back to the book. Your eye catches on some diagram depicting the proper brewing of the Polyjuice Potion. “Wait, we could use that wand movement there! It’ll actually work out just the way we want it to, but way easier than just brewing Polyjuice.” Draco grins suddenly, the flash of his teeth in the dim atmosphere of the library catching your eye. “Are we actually doing this?” You smile back at him. “I think we are. Look at us! Legitimate potion-brewers!”

The two of you start to laugh, the happy sound breaking the stillness of the library and earning you a swift glare from Madam Pince, the librarian. This act of discipline just makes the two of you laugh even harder, until you’re forced to quiet yourselves at the risk of being kicked out of the library. Once the study session is over, you start walking back to your dorm, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione catch up with you once you’ve barely taken a few steps.

Hermione clasps your arm. “I saw you heading out of the library. I can’t believe you have to work with Malfoy, that’s just awful. Tell me, is it that unbearable? I don’t know how you can stand it.” You smile lightly. “Actually, it’s not that bad. He just seems like another student.” Ron frowns, bewildered. “But he’s not just another student. He’s Malfoy.” You shrug. “I don’t know. He’s nice to me.” And, you suppose, he was. In fact, other than that one incident yesterday, he’s been friendly and even kind to you. Strange.

Before you know it, the two weeks have flown by and it’s time for the in-class Potions assessment. You and Draco work side by side, working effortlessly as if you’d been brewing potions together all your lives. At the end, your cauldrons contain identical liquids- the same swirling, mulberry color, the same light, almost white smoke. 

Snape arrives at your cauldrons, taking a quick glance inside to check that the contents appear roughly the same before gesturing languidly at the two of you. “Drink the other’s potion. You had best be correct in your brewing, as I don’t want any more trips to the infirmary.” You and Draco look at each other one last time, then you dip a cup into his cauldron, drinking it down as he does the same. The potion isn’t sweet, nor bitter, just a smooth liquid with a slight hint of spice.

Now to test if the potion works. You concentrate for a second, willing your hair to turn a different color. Pink, maybe. After a second, you glance at a mirror in your hand and smile to see the light rose locks taking the place of your formerly H/C ones. You look at Draco, and grin to see that his eyes have changed color from the usual ice gray to a dark emerald, reminiscent of the Slytherin colors adorning his robes.

You let out a quiet laugh, relieved, then will your hair to transform back into its usual color. You feel better once it does, and when Draco’s eyes return to normal. Snape considers the potions for a second, then nods slowly. “Acceptable work, both of you. You’ve earned yourselves an Outstanding.” Snape steps away to interrogate another pair of students, announcing that once you’ve been graded you can leave class, and you beam at Draco. “We got an Outstanding! I’m so proud of us!”

Draco smirks at your enthusiasm. “Let’s head out. I think I’ll become unconscious if I have to spend another second next to Finnigan’s potion.” You giggle quietly at that, and gather up your things to leave with him. The two of you walk out of the dungeons and into the courtyard. You tilt your head up to face the sky, basking in the sudden brightness of day.

Draco laughs at you, then his voice slowly starts to die off. “Well, I guess you got what you wanted, didn’t you? The two weeks are up. You never have to see me again.” You glance up at him, but Draco doesn’t give you a chance to speak. “I know how it is. You’re best friends with Potter and the others, they despise me. You probably despise me too.”

You walk over to him, gently taking his hands in yours. “I think I’m expected to, but I don’t. I think you’re a genuinely good person, Draco, you just have to give yourself the chance to see that for yourself.” He lets himself smile at that. “In that case, would you like to give me the chance to go out with you to Hogsmeade? The trip’s in a few days.” You beam at him, feeling your eyes light up. “I’d like nothing more.”

[goldeneyedgirl]

Who’s ur favorite and least favorite twilight character and why?

LOL, oh man. Prepare for Discourse, Anon. 

My favourite character is Alice (that might be very obvious). I think she was wasted in Twilight, and that she has so much potential. 

She has no recollection of being human. She is a totally blank slate with a gift that is essentially an extra sense or limb. Like, this girl cannot be ‘okay’. I believe in my heart of hearts that Alice functions differently to other people. I mean, I infer from canon that her visions taught her everything that she needed to know - from how to feed, to how to convince Jasper, to how to join the Cullens. She’s going to get the wrong answer? She’ll change what she says!

And that is utterly fucking terrifying - especially if she was aware and doing it intentionally. But I do not think she is, in that sense. I just don’t think she would have any idea of how to live without her visions showing her what to do next. Alice is a hostage to her own gift, and always has been. 

Even her interactions with Bella and Edward in canon are really uncanny, like she’s playing a role - which is more reflective of SMeyer’s piss-poor writing ability than any sort of intention - but indicative that Alice is Not Okay, and kind of explains a lot about how the Cullen family is portrayed. 

A lot of what I love about Alice, and her relationship with Jasper, are things I’ve absorbed from fan-content - what we can infer from the information we’ve been given. Her conviction about her and Jasper, to me, is beautiful and both terribly childlike, and something someone who has suffered deeply would absolutely cling to as a lifeline. The idea that Jasper isn’t just her husband, but her very best friend and confidant as well, paints such a lovely picture of the symbiosis they have. I think that, whilst it’s normally Poised, Confident Alice to Rescue Struggling Depressed Jasper portrayed in fandom, that there is a distinctive possibility that two individuals who were both fucked over in the gift department and were holding onto reality by a strand found each other and rescued each other might be closer to the truth.

I also LOVE fashion, so I kind of get Alice on that level; and I treat Alice - when I write her - as someone with mental illness (like myself) because I find that very satisfying to write, and to explore. I can PROJECT, which is super fun.

Jasper’s a close second because holy moly, he has so much potential from a fic-writing perspective? This is a man who was not a good person as a human - like, there are Varying Reasons he would join the Confederate Army and be proud of being a Major, but that’s a TOTALLY different piece of discourse so we’ll put a pin in that because statistically, it meant he was a racist fighting for racist ideals. And THEN he is changed into a vampire and joins the Southern Wars, falling further into evil as far as violence, hate, and senseless death goes. 

Like this man was a full monster.

And it was eating him alive.

So he just walked away. Alice did not save him. Peter did not save him. Jasper walked away. Peter gave him the opportunity to do so. Alice offered him goals and a way to improve who he is. There’s nothing he can do about the evil he sowed, the legacy he has created. And he has to live with that every single day for eternity. Has to deal with the burn of his thirst, exacberated by years of gorging on human blood, every single day. There is no solution to/for Jasper. It’s one hell or another. And that is so much fun from a fic-writing perspective. 

Plus his dynamic with Maria is so crazy fun - Mother? Lover? General? What does ‘good terms’ even mean? I assume it’s code for ‘cold war’ or ‘not actively seeking the other’s destruction’, but who knows. I love that. 

Jessamine is also super fun and beloved by me, but that’s because she’s either Jasper-derivitive or my particular portrayal of a separate character, so she doesn’t count. 

As for my least favourite, that honour goes to Edward. Full disclosure, I have not read Midnight Sun, only skimmed parts, because the only thing worse than that would be reading EdBella fic. 

I think he’s an arrogant, misogynistic, controlling little brat, honestly. He’s above the rules and the laws when it suits him - at the cost to everyone - and he condemns Rosalie and Jasper so quickly and thoroughly with very little in-text justification. 

He says that Rosalie is vain - well, Captain Dipshit, maybe after being violently and fatally gang-raped by a group including her fiance Rosalie might deal with a lot of body issues - and copes with them the best way she can. Maybe after being raised with a priority of being beautiful above all else, and then harmed in such a grotesque way because of her beauty, and then becoming more beautiful might fuck with your mental health a little, Eddie.

Edward has a bad habit of classifying women in absolutes like Madonna/Whore, depending on his personal beliefs - which, as a frozen 17 year old from the 1900s, is fairly goddamn dubious. Rosalie and Tanya are both ‘bad’, Esme, Alice, and Bella are all ‘good’. But there are no women that Edward fully ‘trusts’ or allows to ‘win’/direct him. He prizes Bella because of her unreadable mind - she is a puzzle and something to possess. They are never partners. Edward uses Alice, Who Tries Her Very Best, as a weapon against Bella multiple times. I often wonder if it isn’t Edward who encourages Alice, off-page/off-screen, to play dress-ups, to make Bella into what Edward expects in a wife. 

Edward is over-indulged by both Esme and Carlisle; honestly, with his gift, I wouldn’t be surprised if he manipulates the family into their slightly toxic dynamic (it’s hard to tell because of SMeyer’s obvious bias, and the perspective of the novels) because it benefits him so much. It puts him second only to Carlisle - Jasper cannot be trusted despite his comprehensive understanding of vampires, especially when it comes to turf battles, and Emmett’s just a frat boy. Or is this the portrait Edward has painted so he gets to be #1 Son?

Edward is the goddamn architect of every disaster the Cullens face because what he wants is dangerous and illegal. Without Edward’s Volterra Tantrum, Aro never would have challenged the Cullens in Breaking Dawn. Victoria’s attack would have been neutralised before the Cullens even got wind of it. Bella never would have gone cliff-diving or solo-hiking if Edward hadn’t dumped her in the cruelest way possible. 

I honestly, truly believe that Edward shouldn’t have had a mate, let alone a wife and child. 

Also, movie!Edward looked like he needed a fucking shower and a flea dip in nearly every scene. 

Bella’s a close second because I have known girls like Bella and fuck me, they are deeply unpleasant to be friends with. She fucks over EVERYONE in pursuit of Edward. I understand that she doesn’t have the same interests as Alice, but not once just she make a suggestion for an alternative activity or a compromise (and that could be Bad Writing again, because Bella appears to have very few hobbies beyond ‘reading’ but it’s what we’re working with). 

In fact, I would argue that Alice tries her very best to be Bella’s friend, but it’s a futile attempt - Bella tolerates Alice because of Alice’s proximity to Edward. If Alice had been a human student at Forks High, you can bet that Bella would have dumped her as fast as possible. Bella has very few moments where she’s positive about the people around her outside of the Cullens (by association with Edward) or Jacob. Charlie gets mostly pity. Everyone else is looked upon with disapproval and judgement (which, again, reflects toxic writing tropes.) 

And Bella martyrs herself at every opportunity. There’s a lot of discourse where Bella’s neglectful childhood is examined, but Bella fucking lunges into the ‘victim’ role at every possibility. And ultimately, I really don’t see Bella maturing or learning anything at all through the series. It’s always about what she wants, above everything else. She succeeds because she and Edward are incredibly selfish individuals who are enabled by the parental figures around them. 

Second runner-up is Carlisle. 

[siennahrobek]

Working with Obi-Wan Kenobi’s grand padawan was…different. He had heard a lot about Skywalker and Kenobi as a team through many forms – propaganda, gossip, billboards, reports, victories, losses, campaigns. They were a popular topic. They seemed to pull off some of the most insane mission parameters and come out alive from fighting varying horrifying villains and Separatists, darksiders and Sith.

Feemor quickly figured out Ahsoka was quite a bit like Anakin Skywalker. Which sounded awful, now, knowing what he had done and what he had become, but he had meant it in a better way. At least, nothing that extreme. She was fast paced and protective with a strong sense of justice and a decent moral compass. She didn’t seem to understand some of the intricacies of governments, politics and the war effort, she cared about the people. She seemed to go back and forth between cynicism and belief in people. It was an interesting combination.

He wondered if Obi-Wan could help her smooth out some of those more high-strung tendencies.

Then again, Feemor didn’t really know Obi-Wan very well either.

Feemor and Ahsoka spent most of the evacuation helping groups of people and shuttling themselves back and forth with supplies. A few recovering 501st and a of couple Coruscant Guard had joined them on one of the trips. They had lost Rex quickly into the evacuation, before even their first trip back to Ahsoka’s ship. Luckily Feemor had spotted what had happened with him and had to quickly explain to a near panicking Ahsoka that he had simply helped a padawan carry a trooper to the medical bay for surgery when she noticed his absence. He was probably still there.

***

“Are you going to take a shuttle to Obi-Wan’s venator?” Feemor asked quietly. It was their first trip back to the 332nd venator, their shuttle piled full of supplies, clothes and other resources. A few soldiers came along with them, although huddled in the back with one another. Some of them were a little too scared to be hanging around Jedi at this point. It wouldn’t be long before everyone was packed onto the ships of Obi-Wan’s forces, ready to flee away from their brainwashed friends and the Sith wanting them dead for no other reason than existing.

“I want to,” Ahsoka replied after a hesitation. She didn’t look at him. She was piloting, Feemor had gotten the impression she wouldn’t have led him pilot, even if he had tried. “I want to see him. I want him to tell me everything is going to be okay. I have so many questions. I want him to have the answers,” she paused and glanced down. “I know he won’t.”

Feemor didn’t reply, just kept his eyes on her, soft and understanding. What did one say to that?

Ahsoka just looked up into the stars once again, determined driven into her expression. “But I should stay with the 332nd. They have been burned enough by the jedi.”

He wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, as it seemed that the 332nd, although betrayed by Skywalker by brainwashing their brothers, had been, at the very least, kept away from that horrible end. Skywalker was only one jedi. What other jedi could they have been burned by?

“Will you?” her voice was quiet and a bit sudden after the stretched silence.

“Maybe,” Feemor shrugged. “Even if I don’t the first time, it isn’t a long trip to Kamino. I need to talk to him, at some point, but I don’t think there will be a good time any moment soon,” he admitted.

The young togruta glanced at him. “You haven’t taken the moment in, what? Thirty years? You never know when you will lose the chance forever. Do it quickly, Master. Before it is too late and one of you is gone.”

***

Rex jogged up to them and silently helped pack up their shuttle. He hadn’t said a word until Feemor had tried to strike up a conversation on the ride over to the 332ndship but Rex kept his answers to a bare minimum, mostly one-word answers. His hands were nearly shaking.

“I saw General Kenobi,” Rex barely muttered out while in the cockpit with Ahsoka and Feemor. The latter figured he was probably talking with her. “He seemed mostly uninjured. It was a little hard to tell because his robes were so dirty. He was wearing his old armor.”

It was the most Feemor had heard Rex speak at that point.

“Is that so. What did you talk about?” Ahsoka’s voice was almost disconnected, like she was talking through a machine. She didn’t sound interested even though Feemor was fairly certain she was.

She didn’t meet his eyes but that didn’t stop the captain from staring at her. He chose his words carefully. “Feelings, mostly.”

“Did you talk about… you know…”

Rex paused and looked away. “Some. You should probably talk about it with him yourself. I think it would do both of you some good.”

Feemor suspected they could make one more trip after this before the evacuation was complete. The end of the conversation was clear.

***

They had done several trips back and forth but this last one, was alone with only supplies in their cargo bay. They had brought up a few clones but not many, most had wanted to stay with the rest of the 501st, many of which still recovering from short surgeries.

He didn’t know how the conversation came up, but he knew why. Ahsoka cared a lot about the clones, especially those under her command. It hurt her, he imagined, watching the ones she worked personally with be brainwashed by her former master. Perhaps it was that reason that she latched onto them instead of the betrayal of her old master. Feemor had his only issues with his teacher, but they paled in comparison to hers. His master just threw him away and got himself killed by a Sith. Hers became one.

She talked, rather ranted, about the unfairness of what was happening with her friends. With Commander Appo and all of the other 501st members that she cared so much about. She talked about the blindness and cowardice of the jedi, just leaving and abandoning them to the fate of a droid, to be used by the Empire for whatever means.

Feemor tried to gently remind her that the jedi were trying to save the helpless and their children. That the jedi do not currently have the numbers or the resources or a plan to rescue them all at this time.

“The jedi will come back for them,” he promised at the end, quiet and gentle. He knew it to be true, the Jedi would come back for the clones, for anyone who needed them. It was a part of their identity, to help those who couldn’t help themselves. But it was even more poignant for the clones, he knew. The Jedi would itch to help them, unwilling to leave their friends to such a fate.

“They didn’t for me.”

Her voice was strained and angry but so quiet, Feemor nearly doesn’t hear her. He understands abandonment. His own master had repudiated for something that not only wasn’t Feemor’s fault, but also something he never had any control over. It never had anything to do with him specifically, it was Xanatos who had ruined it all. And Qui-Gon’s love for Xanatos had just torn the older master apart even more.

He did not remind her that the Jedi did ask her to return.

She was just upset and mixing her feelings, much like any teenager who had been wronged, would.

“They’re just trying to survive, Ahsoka,” Feemor replied, instead. “We cannot help the clones if we are all dead.”

Ahsoka had stopped talking and stared out at the venators they passed, peacefully and ignorantly sweeping the planet, orbiting in a protective barrier, waiting for an attack that would probably never come. Her gaze had settled on one, just a little out of the way, further than the others out in the open space before she turned the controls, sharply curving them towards the ship, instead of away from it.

“Ahsoka, what are you doing?” Feemor asked warily.

The teenager didn’t answer. Instead, she turned the ship even tighter and then straightened out towards the unfamiliar venator.

“Ahsoka!” he yelped. “That is not the ship we want!”

She continued to hold her silence and no matter what Feemor says or does, she continues to fly their shuttle right toward the docking area of the larger venator. She even used the Force to push him nearly out of the chair when he tried to stop her.

“You are going to get us killed,” he hissed. “I’m sure plenty, if not all, of the Coruscant Guards have had their chips activated!”

Swallowing hand, she slowed down, now far too close to turn back now, clicking in comm codes and landing on the outskirts of the bay with a heavy thunk. The Jedi master stared at her, eyes wide.

“We need to get out of here,” he tried again but the togruta female just stood, stone faced and determined. “The rest of the Jedi are going to be leaving soon and we need to be with the 332nd so we can keep up with them.”

“We are going to take this ship,” Ahsoka announced, her tone giving no room for debate. She stood up and grabbed her sabers, marching away. Feemor sighed, running his hands along his face. This was going to be something else.

The clones, so engrossed in their chip activation, had not even noticed the unscheduled landing of an unfamiliar shuttle.

It didn’t stop Feemor from hesitating when they snuck off the ship. As they snuck down the ramp, out of sight, he glanced around. A partially crashed into the wall was a Jedi Delta-7 Interceptor, complete with a dead jedi inside, the bubble that usually encased them in the cockpit broken apart in shards. Neither of them recognized her but she was easily identified as a jedi, even from a distance. She had been shot several times; her chest riddled with blaster shots. Her gorget armor piece had helped her survive, at least until she had got to her ship, but she hadn’t gotten any farther. The engine had been shot out. Feemor hoped she died on impact; he didn’t know if her killers would have had granted her a quick death from bleeding out.

Ahsoka snarled. Feemor looked and felt sick.

A couple of the nonclone natborn officers were laughing on the balcony. The hum and although dulling light were easily distinguishable and identifiable as a lightsaber, whirling and flying through the air. They had taken her lightsaber. They had taken it and were playing with it like it was some kind of toy.

“It’s not even that they don’t care,” Ahsoka choked out, nearly in tears. “They are happy,they are glad, we are being killed off.”

Feemor noticed her use of the term we. It continued.

“We are being killed and they are celebrating…they love that we are dying, leaving our bodies to rot without care, where we are cut down. Distracting us, our ways, playing with part of our souls like children while they murder our children.”

She just cried silently.

“Come on, Ahsoka. Let’s find a place to hide and make a plan.”

***

The two of them snuck through the halls, barely keeping out of sight of the clones. With nothing in their minds, it was easy to keep their attention away. They didn’t want to see anyone – they didn’t see anyone so using a brief signal in the Force to look away was easy to the both of them.

They hid in a few closets, taking down several key troopers throughout some of the ship during their way to the bridge, stripping them of weapons and communications and giving them heavy sleep suggestions. They would be out for hours at the very least. They had talked about a plan, to take the bridge and use the natborn officers to take over the ship. Lock them all in the bridge, including Feemor and Ahsoka, which would keep the clones out but still safe. The plan hadn’t gotten much further than that.

Nearing the bridge, Feemor had pulled Ahsoka into a supply closet as several officers had passed by. To their infinite luck, the officers had stopped nearby to speak to one another, forcing the two jedi to stay in the closet until they were done with their conversation and passed out of sight.

“Master Obi-Wan will like you,” Ahsoka declared, confidently. Her voice was hushed and subdued, but it did nothing to take away from the sentiment.

“You think so?” A welcome topic for Feemor, to be sure.

“I dragged you into something random and unexpected and dangerous. You tried to talk me out of it but then, eventually, just went with it and helped me,” Ahsoka explained. “Just trust me on this one.”

***

“I kind of prefer them this way,” one of the officers noted, watching as lines of clone troopers marched, perfect and silent, down the hall. “They don’t talk, pretending to be men. They just do what they are told.”

“Without complaint,” another snickered, giving one of the clones a shove. The man sprawled to the ground, helmet smashing into the floor. He just got up and kept walking again. No one had even flinched.

Both of the officers laughed.

Ahsoka nearly burst out from their hiding place around the corner, but Feemor held her back. They were close but they couldn’t give away their position yet. It would surely get them killed.

He pulled her away, towards the bridge. They were so close.

As they got nearer, Feemor and Ahsoka dipped into an empty room to prepare. “Three guards, all clones,” Feemor reported, taking a glance in the direction. He pulled back as Ahsoka’s lightsaber snapped in her hands, unignited.

“I’m faster,” Ahsoka noted. It was true of course, if only because she was so much younger than him, but he was rather amused at her assumption of his lack of speed. He wasn’t lacking, as he had noted to himself, the only thing she had on him in terms of that was youth. “You handle the guards with sleep suggestions, and I’ll start clearing a path in the bridge.”

Feemor actually found it a tad entertaining and a bit insulting as well that she had to clarify the sleep suggestion part, as if she thought he was going to purposefully murder a couple of brainwashed clones. “We need some of them alive, Ahsoka,” he shot back.

She turned to stare at him momentarily. “Yeah. Yeah. I know.”

Taking the bridge wasn’t difficult. They didn’t see it coming and were completely unprepared for an assault by two jedi. Ahsoka had taken out the communications officer first – all of the bridge had been quickly replaced with natborns, unsurprisingly – and had nearly taken off his limbs. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. He was dead.

A few of the officers did end up dead, mostly due to Feemor and Ahsoka reflecting blaster bolts back at them. The rest had surrendered fairly quickly. Upon ordering communications throughout the ship to be blocked, Ahsoka worked on the technology part of the controls of the ship, while Feemor cuffed and herded their hostages away from said controls.

“Alright,” Feemor smiled, something wicked and cold. “This is how things are going to go. We are the leaders on the ship now. You will stay here for the duration of your stay. You will not communicate with anyone – not that you could anyways – and if you somehow do, upon someone figuring out what has happened because of it, bad things will happen. You will not let any of the clones on the bridge or tell them that we are here. Do you understand the rules?”

Everyone was rather hesitant, shooting him horrible looks but they nodded.

“Fantastic. Then, we can move along,” he turned and walked towards Ahsoka, keeping a blatant eye on their prisoners.

“Ah, Ahsoka?” he questioned. “This was great and all but now we have at least hundreds of brainwashed clones aboard. What are we going to be doing with them?”

Ahsoka just shrugged. “For now, nothing.”

Ahsoka walked towards the holotable in the middle of the bridge, Feemor trailing behind her uncertainly. She clicked in a comm code and Feemor shifted uncomfortably on the other side of the table. He couldn’t believe they had taken the ship. Keeping it, that was going to be another story. He had no idea what she had in mind; what she was going to do with this entire ship full of brainwashed clones. It wasn’t like the two of them could just take them down or something.

Jesse and Echo, if Feemor remembered correctly, popped up on the table in the blue holoform. “Commander!” Echo greeted, easily. “We were expecting you back hours ago! Is everything okay?”

“Just fine, Echo,” Ahsoka nodded, seriously. “Any word on General Kenobi’s ships and the other Jedi around?”

“Leaving quite soon sir,” Jesse responded this time. “The last couple of ships have left the planet. They will be leaving for Kamino promptly. Rex said he is going to stay with the… with the rest of the 501st, Appo isn’t doing so well.”

“We actually suggested it,” Echo butted in. The look on their faces were pained and mournful. Jesse struggled to speak again but once he started, his voice got stronger.

“What about you, where are you?”

“When are you coming?”

Ahsoka paused and took a deep breath. Feemor watched, carefully. “You go on to Kamino without us, boys,” she started.

The other two began to protest, rather vehemently. “Never sir!”

“You really think we would leave without you?”

Ahsoka nearly let out a laugh but settled for a smirk. “Don’t worry. I will meet you on our next destination. Master Feemor and I…. well, we found ourselves another ride.

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Fractured Foundation: Chat Blanc

Summary: Since his own akumatization Chat Noir has been the perfect partner. Never questioning, never distracting, never asking for anything at all...

So, why wasn't it enough?

Ch.1 Double Standards

Chat Noir does everything right... But Adrien is still wrong.

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

Ladybugs swirled around him as Chat Noir came back to himself. Scanning his surroundings Chat Noir saw Ladybug helping who he assumed was a de-akumatized Backwarder.

Oh. It was over. The last thing he remembered was-

"Sorry about this Chat Noir."

... A push from behind. His heart spiking in fear. Backwarder's clock hand striking his chest.

"Chat?"

Looking up, Chat Noir held up his fist from touching the spot he was hit. He smiled at her "Bien joue, Ladybug."

"...Yeah. Bien joue." She bumped his fist and shook her head. "I need to go. Bug out!"

Vaulting over Paris, Chat Noir realized he never found out why the old lady was akumatized. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was that Ladybug won...

Adrien came out of the train's bathroom just as Gabriel did the same. Stiffening at the sight of his father, Adrien gave a slight nod and hurried to his seat. Heartbeat pounding far faster than when he was fighting Backwarder.

Kagami glanced at Adrien and he smiled reassuringly before putting his headphones in. At least he wouldn't have to sit through another lecture from Master Fu this time. Seeing as he'd be in London for the weekend.

Adrien would be in London for the weekend. No Fu, no Papillon, no Chat Noir. The thought made him feel... lighter. Taking his headphones out he turned to Kagami. "Is this your first time going to London?"

"No. Mother has taken me on several other business trips to familiarize myself with the company holdings." Kagami refocused her attention on Adrien. "But I can't say I've been sightseeing."

"Really? What do you want to see first?" Adrien fell into the ease of speaking with Kagami. Let himself enjoy this small moment of normalcy compared to the glorious disillusion of the akuma battle. Leaving Backwarder and Paris behind as the train accelerated.

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

Chat Noir soared over the rooftops. Grinning as the wind blew through his hair. For the first time in... he didn't know how long his heart raced with joy after a battle. He was useful! Sure he had to sacrifice himself so Ladybug could beat Gamer 2.0 but still!

Landing with a flip onto the designated rooftop he waited for Master Fu to show. Just like he did after (almost) every akuma attack. Except this time Chat Noir wasn't dreading it. This time-

The door opened as Master Fu stepped out.

"Master! Did you see... What's wrong?"

Master Fu held a stern expression. "Why did you not talk to Ladybug about what you intended?"

Chat's ears drooped as he pulled in on himself, enthusiasm forgotten. "Wh-what?"

"You sacrificed yourself without speaking to her first!" Master Fu sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ladybug might have come up with an alternative."

"But... I..."

"At the very least you should have let her know before you act."

You didn't tell her that when she shoved me onto Backwarder's sword.

Adrien flinched. "... Okay... I'll... tell her next time."

Even though she never tells me.

Satisfied, Master Fu's gaze softened. "You must be mindful of Ladybug's feelings." With that he turned back towards the door. Pausing at the threshold, he glanced back. "It was wise to give Ladybug the last fight."

"..."

Chat Noir dashed across rooftops. Blinking rapidly as the wind blew into his eyes. For a moment he forgot. He forgot that Chat Noir was always wrong. That Adrien didn't get what everyone else did. He wasn't like everyone else. What they did mattered.

... Nothing Adrien ever did mattered. The universe was simply issuing a reminder.

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

Adrien didn't want to be at fencing practice today. He'd fantasized about taking Kagami to Kitty Section's rehearsal with the rest of his friends instead... But if his meetings with the Guardian had a theme it was listening to his... betters.

As though the universe could hear him the akuma alert went off just as he finished changing into his fencing gear. Making sure the rest of his teammates were gone, Adrien transformed and leapt out the window. Hoping Kagami wouldn't be too bored without him.

Quickly going over what information there was on 'Desperada' Chat Noir realized she was last seen at the Couffaine's houseboat. He ran faster.

A pang of longing came over him as Adrien remembered how tempting it'd been to skip practice and join his friends. But that meant disobeying. And disobeying never brought Adrien anything. Not with Father, not with his teachers, not with the Guardian.

Leaping across buildings a cyan blur knocked him five stories to the ground. Rolling with the blow Chat Noir readied his staff. The cyan blur was a lyre that came back to the hand that threw it.

A guy in a vaguely snake-like suit with cyan colored hair. "Sorry, Chat Noir. You would've gotten caught if I hadn't done anything."

To prove his point Desperada appeared and started shooting yellow blasts of magic. Chat Noir spun his staff as he ran for cover. Ladybug's yo-yo wrapped around him and pulled him into the alley. "Good, you're here. Chat, this is Viperion."

"Hello again, Chat Noir." Viperion smiled gently.

"... Hey."

"So what's the plan?" Ladybug asked the new guy.

Chat Noir stared. Ladybug never asked someone else to make the plan.

"Okay, first we need your Lucky Charm..."

In the end it was very simple. Chat Noir and Ladybug dodged Desperada's attacks long enough for Viperion to distract her with music from his lyre. Then Ladybug used the saddle her Lucky Charm gave her to restrict Desperada's movements. All three pulling the villain in different directions while Viperion threw his lyre at her guitar case, breaking it.

There was an extra 'Bien Joue' in their fist bump and then Chat Noir was running back to fencing practice.

...He'd done nothing. Viperion did all the work. And apparently he was so good at it he didn't even need to use his power. Or... was knowing what was going to happen his ability? Is that why Ladybug let him plan?

...Maybe he was reading too much into it. 'Bien joue' felt hollow all the time now. Just because it felt particularly empty this time didn't mean there was a reason besides his own selfish desire to be useful.

Back inside the locker room Adrien detransformed.

The door banged open. Adrien flinched.

"What is the meaning of this transgression, Agreste!?" M. D'Argencourt demanded.

Heart pounding, Adrien fumbled over his words. "I-I can explain!"

"I should hope so! I will have to inform M. Agreste of this behavior." M. D'Argencourt informed him.

Blood drained from Adrien's face. "NO! Please M. D'Argencourt, don't tell Father!"

Eyes softening, M. D'Argencourt shook his head. "I am sorry, Adrien. A student disappearing under my guard and I knowing not where he vanished to? I cannot overlook this."

Cold. Adrien was cold and his mouth moved without words. He collapsed onto the bench behind him. Heart hammering in his ears as he imagined what Gabriel would do...

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

Startrain rocketed into space, Nadja Chamack reporting over the image of the akumatized train. For a moment Adrien merely stood there...

"Hey, kid." Plagg pointed at the container of transformation cheese. "We gotta go help."

"R-right!" Coming out of his head Adrien tossed the purple, potion-infused cheese into the air. "Plagg, powerup!"

Swallowing it in a single bite Plagg glowed as the potion took effect. "Astro Plagg!" Small, glowing wings appeared on his back and his fur was coated with small star-like points.

Opening his mouth to say the phrase Adrien... His throat closed... the words wouldn't come... They wouldn't-

Plagg placed a paw on Adrien's cheek. "C'mon kid, your friends need us."

Friends. His friends were on that train! Finding his voice Adrien set his shoulders. "Astro Plagg, transforme-moi!"

Flying was unlike anything he ever experienced. And Astro Chat was flying faster than anyone had ever gone! Sky darkening as he rose above the atmosphere. Startrain had a head start he needed-

Sunlight lit up the Earth, cloud cover obscuring far more of its surface than was usually shown in photos. It was so blue... so beautiful. Adrien remembered what astronauts said about looking at the Earth from above.

He'd heard. But he hadn't known.

Turning back towards the void Astro Chat zoomed after Startrain. It was already past the moon. The moon which Adrien saw as only a handful of people ever did.

There!

Startrain was slowing down? That made it easier to catch up! Astro Chat's heart raced with excitement, willing his wings to go faster. He was almost there! Just a little more and-

A great, glowing, green portal burst to life directly in Startrain's path. Chat caught a glimpse of Big Ben on the other side and then the train sped through. Portal closing behind it.

Leaving Adrien in the void. Of course. Of course Ladybug already beat the akuma. And if that portal was any indication she had help. He wasn't needed. Wasn't necessary.

His friends were on that train and he couldn't. Do! ANYTHING! He couldn't breathe. Couldn't breathe! Everything was too big and too small! Infinity stretched forever in all directions and he was stuck inside this helmet! He wanted out! Wanted-

No. Focus.

As suddenly as his breath left him it came back. Adrien gasped and forced himself to breathe slowly... He couldn't stay here. There was nothing here.

Slowly, reluctantly, Adrien made his way back to Earth. Oh. Oh. He'd gone farther than he thought. Earth was a speck in the distance.

"A mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam."

Tiny. Insignificant. Precious. An oasis in a desert. The closer you are to something the uglier it looks. Adrien kicked the thought away. It was small and meaningless. If you looked too closely at anything you failed to see the whole picture.

Adrien wondered what the whole of his picture, his world, looked like...

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Sixty Eight

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

June 23rd, 2000

Emile looked at the surprise on Faith’s face with glee. “Do you like it?” he asked her.

“Emile...you set up this entire thing for me?” Faith asked, looking over at him.

“Yeah, of course!” Emile said. “You said that you couldn’t have a party because you broke your wrist and you wouldn’t be able to set one up in time when you were holed up in the hospital, so consider this a double party! A welcome home and a birthday party!”

Faith shook her head, grinning and crushing Emile in a hug. “Oh, Emile, I love you so much,” she laughed. “I’m going to miss you after this summer.”

Emile grinned and hugged her just as tight. “I’m going to miss you too. Never stop writing.”

“Never,” Faith promised.

  July 28th, 2002

Emile turned as he heard snickering behind him, but he wasn’t quick enough to avoid the big wave of water that was aggressively shoved into his face before he was promptly tackled by a very excited Remy. Emile laughed, even as he sputtered and spat out salt water. “Was that really necessary, Rem?” Emile asked.

“No,” Remy said with a shameless grin. “But it was really funny.”

Emile laughed and shook his head, just as a wave rose up behind them, easily as tall as Emile was, and both of them were rather unceremoniously shoved onto the shoreline. Emile laughed hard enough that the wave retreating was starting to pull him back into the water before Remy grabbed his hands and kept him lying on the sand. “We should have come to the beach ages ago,” Emile laughed.

“Agreed,” Remy said with a grin, sitting down next to Emile. “Especially because I get to see you in boardshorts.”

“You’ve seen me in less,�� Emile said, frowning.

“Yeah, but there’s something about the beach that makes everything and everyone look good,” Remy said. “Especially this one guy in particular...”

“I agree, the beach does make you look good,” Emile said.

Remy squeaked and whacked Emile. “I was talking about you, doofus!”

Emile laughed and offered Remy a wink. “Oh, come on, you know you look good in swim trunks, don’t deny it!”

Remy was blushing furiously and crossed his arms. “This conversation was not supposed to be about me, mister!”

“Well, it is now,” Emile said with a huge grin. “And you look positively stunning when you’re all happy and giggly at the beach.”

“No. Not allowed. Illegal,” Remy said, shaking his head. “You cannot compliment me like that.”

“I can, and I will,” Emile threatened. “If you don’t acknowledge your beauty yourself, someone else has to do it for you.”

Remy huffed and stood with a stretch, and Emile got to his feet as well. “I’m not that pretty, Emile,” he huffed. “Besides, I’d rather look handsome today.”

“Descriptors aside, you’re attractive,” Emile said simply. “I will fight you on this.”

“Then fight me, loverboy!” Remy said, shoving Emile before running into the water.

Emile stood there in shock a moment, just registering what Remy had said, before he laughed and ran after Remy, shoving water into his face with a laugh. Remy sputtered and shoved water back at Emile, but Emile blocked most of the spray. He grinned, jumping through the water and clinging to Remy like an octopus. “Emile!” Remy exclaimed with a laugh. “Let me go!”

“Nope!” Emile exclaimed, laughing.

“Come on, Emile, let go!” Remy laughed, pushing and tugging at Emile’s various limbs, but Emile would not be moved.

They continued like this for a while, Emile giggling as Remy tried to break free of Emile’s grip, before Remy got a light in his eyes and he walked out of the deeper water, causing Emile’s legs to drop. “Hey! No fair!” Emile exclaimed, still laughing.

Remy walked out of the waves to the shore, and undid Emile’s grip on him. Emile groaned. “You just sucked all the fun out of that!” he exclaimed.

“Well, I need to reapply sunscreen, and so do you,” Remy said, walking back to their towels.

Emile sighed but followed Remy and sat down on his towel, fishing in their bag for the sunscreen. He passed it to Remy, who immediately started to apply it. “I am not getting sunburned on our day trip to the beach,” Remy said. “I don’t mind a tan, but I refuse to get sunburnt.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Emile said. “Sunburn sucks, especially if you have it where you normally wear clothing.”

Remy hummed his agreement, before asking, “Can you get my back?”

“Sure,” Emile said.

Remy knelt down and Emile rubbed a coat of sunscreen onto Remy’s back, about as thin as the layer Remy put everywhere else. Emile spoke idly as he rubbed in the sunscreen. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Agreed,” Remy said. “It’s nice.”

“Where do you think we should grab lunch?” Emile asked.

Remy hummed as Emile finished applying sunscreen. “I’m always a sucker for pizza by the beach,” he said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Emile said.

“Put sunscreen on yourself, too,” Remy said, turning to look at Emile with a stern face.

Emile rolled his eyes. “Come on, Rem, I’m not going to burn!”

“You’re right, you’re not. Because you’re reapplying your sunscreen. I’ll do it myself if I have to,” Remy warned.

Sighing, Emile put on a thin cover of sunscreen himself. “You know, I’m pale, but I don’t burn easily.”

“Whatever you say,” Remy said. “You’re still reapplying it.”

“Because you threatened to treat me like a toddler and smear it on yourself,” Emile scoffed, passing the bottle back to Remy. “My back?”

Remy obliged and Emile looked around, noticing a family setting up nearby, with a little girl staring at them. Emile smiled and waved, and she waved back. She turned to the woman putting up an umbrella, asking something, and the woman glanced over to them before saying something Emile didn’t catch. The girl ran up to Emile and Remy and asked, “Are you two best friends?”

Emile and Remy looked at each other and laughed. “Something like that, yeah,” Emile said. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t usually see two men putting on sunscreen for each other,” the girl said with a shrug. “And I figured you must trust each other a lot.”

“You’re right that we trust each other a lot,” Remy spoke up. “We’ve known each other for almost two years now.”

“Has it really only been two years?” Emile asked. “It feels like it’s been forever.”

Remy laughed and kissed Emile’s temple. “It’s really only been two years,” he said.

The girl looked shocked. “You just kissed him!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Remy said. “I can do that. We’re dating.”

The girl’s mother walked over and grabbed her by the hand, glaring at Emile and Remy. “Don’t go putting ideas in my daughter’s head!” she hissed.

Emile and Remy glanced at each other when the mother was gone, and they started to giggle. “Oh, boy, is she in for a surprise,” Emile said. “The next town over is a college town. The gays are everywhere, and they’re open about it.”

Remy snickered. “Not only the ones who have summer semesters, but the ones who come back from their studies and work as lifeguards or have jobs on the boardwalk, too.”

They continued to laugh for a minute before Remy sighed and Emile yawned. “Man, we’ve only been here a few hours but I’m exhausted,” he said.

“Well, maybe lunch would help with that?” Remy offered. “I think it’s about noon.”

Emile grabbed his glasses and watch from the bag and checked the time. “It’s closer to one-thirty, actually.”

“Oh, we’re definitely getting lunch, then,” Remy said, standing up and shaking the sand out of his towel. “Come on, babe, we’ve gotta eat before we pass out.”

Emile stood and folded up his towel and grabbed their bag, and together they went back to the parking lot to put away their beach stuff. They both pulled on shirts and headed to the pizza parlor they had eyed on the way over here.

When they walked in they were directed to seats and Emile looked around. It was a nice place, over all. But here was the perfect chance to get some more ideas for the project. “Hey, Rem.”

Remy looked up from his menu and groaned. “Come on, Emile. This, again? Why are you so insistent about following through with this game?”

Emile shrugged. “I just want your opinion on a couple things,” he said innocently. “What do you think of the layout of the restaurant? Compared to the shop that you have visualized in your head?”

“Well, I probably wouldn’t have booths,” Remy said, looking around. “They’re usually difficult to move for cleaning, and so much dust and dirt and stuff gets stuck under them or really close to them because it’s hard to clean the nooks and crannies.”

“So, only tables with chairs?” Emile asked. “Would that be an accessibility issue?”

“I’d have different heights,” Remy said definitively. “Regular height tables around the edges, with some tables higher up for people who are able to stand and climb up onto seats. And this is gonna sound weird to you...”

Emile tilted his head to the side, silently asking Remy to continue.

“...But I would have rectangular tables at the edges and circular ones in the middle, if at all possible. Less space to take up, and more potential space for a line, which I doubt would go out the door, but it’s whatever, you know?”

“It’s forethought. I like it,” Emile said, nodding and making mental adjustments in his head.

Remy ran a hand down his face and sighed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Sorry for insisting we do this, like, every time we go out, but...you need a solid layout before you start a shop.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Remy said with a weak smile. “I’m just very tired, and I don’t want to talk or think shop right now, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Emile said with a nod. “I’ll let it drop.”

A waitress came over and took their order, returning with their drinks and promising that their pizza would be out shortly. Remy was fiddling with the paper wrapper from his straw and he hummed. “Okay. I know I said I didn’t want to talk shop, but can I just...like, vent over something really quick?”

“Sure,” Emile said, faintly surprised. Remy never brought up this sort of stuff unless it was really bugging him, so it had to be important.

“I don’t get why so many people in so many coffee shops go out of their way to buy the expensive coffee grounds and advertise where from the world it came from. Like, ethically sourced? Yeah, of course, promote that. But a lot of the time they spring for expensive grounds and they just...don’t do anything different with them. And, sure, some grounds will taste better than others. But if you don’t do anything original with it to adjust the flavor, what’s the point? Most people won’t tell the difference between the different kinds of bitter, and you have to raise prices to boot because of the cost of the grounds going into the coffee.” Remy shook his head and took a long sip of his soda. “It...it doesn’t make sense to me.”

Emile nodded along. “That makes sense. So your shop, you’d use regular coffee grounds, whatever that means?”

“I’d use the basic stuff, probably, yeah. At least at first, because that’s what I’d be able to afford. And I’d want it to be ethically sourced, ideally. Which, I know is a bit more pricey, but not out of the price range entirely. But basic coffee grounds with other ingredients still make a mean mocha if you know what you’re doing,” Remy said.

“I don’t know the first thing about making coffee, so I’ll leave you to that part of the business,” Emile said with a laugh.

Remy offered a sly grin. “Yeah. I wouldn’t ask your opinion on that without doing extensive research first so I can simplify things for you. And because you don’t know the terminology.”

Emile laughed unapologetically. “Thank you for being aware of that,” he said with a grin. “Means a lot that you would at least try and get me to understand.”

“Well, of course. It’s nice to have someone to run your plans by,” Remy said simply. “And since Theo graduated and has started doing his own thing, my pool of options has gone down by one. And when you don’t have a lot of options to begin with, that’s a big hit.”

“Maybe so,” Emile allowed. “But I’m willing to bet that your network is bigger than you think it is.”

Remy shrugged. “Maybe,” he allowed. “Maybe.”

[jedi-order-apologist]

I finished reading Yoda: Dark Rendezvous, and I have to say, I really, really loved it! Everyone who recommended it to me was 100% right - this book is great, and especially great in its representation of the Jedi. I think I like it even more than Shatterpoint, and I really liked Shatterpoint.

There are some weak points - it was a little slow to pull me in, and there’s a couple of Weird Legends Things™ that, with me not being particularly immersed in that continuity, don’t quite fit in with my conception of Star Wars (Dooku apparently having had a Master that was not Yoda; the infamous 13-year-old age limit (though I was at least familiar with that one), the Jedi being so far in the public eye that there exists a famous Yoda impersonator, etc), and I was a little iffy on how it handled the “Jedi shouldn’t be in the war” angle (I’m fine with there being Jedi who think that the Jedi shouldn’t be in the war. I’m less fine with an author deciding that other Jedi can’t find the words to defend their involvement, because that’s a cheap way of framing the argument), and a small moment of the “everyone falls in love” stuff I dislike.

But those were very small aspects of the book, all things considered, and pretty much everything else about this book is really, really good, and very Star Warsy - a very healthy mix of the wacky as well as the philosophical sides of the franchise, which suited my tastes really well. This book is fun - Yoda is the grumpy grandpa that he deserves to be, and spends a good portion of the book disguised as an astromech that gets into all sorts of trouble. Obi-Wan and Anakin have peak sibling energy in the handful of scenes that they show up in - Anakin at one point insisting that a woman would have to be desperate to want Obi-Wan, and only a younger sibling could possibly say something like that with a straight face to a man as attractive as Obi-Wan, as well as Obi-Wan lying to Mace Windu’s face to cover for Anakin and then immediately grumbling about it to Anakin that he doesn’t know why he does these things for him is such an older sibling thing to do.

Where this book really shines, though, is the serious stuff - the philosophy and the dark side and especially grief. What absolutely sold me on this story, and what made me sit up and go “this is going to be one of my favorite Star Wars books”, was the part where Yoda speaks to the padawans and helps them address and work through their grief. It was phenomenal, and beautiful, and absolutely everything I want out of depicting the Jedi - especially in the context that only a chapter earlier, Ventress had been hurling those standard accusations of “the Jedi don’t let you feel”, and this book wonderfully, completely demolishes that nonsense. This section is absolutely amazing:

Yoda set his bowl of gumbo regretfully aside. “Hear it working, do you?”

“Hear what?” Whie snapped.

“The dark side. Always it speaks to us, from our pain. Our grief. It connects our pain to all pain, our hurt to all hurt.”

“Maybe it has a lot to say.” Whie stared at the starscape hovering over the projector table. “It’s so easy for you. What do you care? You are unattached, aren’t you? You’ll probably never die. What was Maks Leem to you? Another pupil. After all these centuries, who could blame you if you could hardly keep track of them? Well, she was more than that to me.” He looked up challengingly. Tear tracks were shining on his face, but his eyes were still hard and angry. “She was the closest thing I had to a mother, since you took me away from my real mother. She chose me to be her Padawan and I let her down, I let her die, and I’m not going to sit here and stuff myself and get over it!” He finished with a yell, sweeping the plate of crêpes off the projection table, so the platter went sailing toward the floor.

Yoda’s eyes, heavy-lidded and half closed like a drowsing dragon’s, gleamed, and one finger twitched. Food, platter, drinks, and all hung suspended in the air. The platter settled; the crêpes returned to it; Whie’s overturned cup righted itself, and rich purple liquid trickled back into it. All settled back onto the table.

Another twitch of Yoda’s fingers, the merest flicker, and Whie’s head jerked around as if on a string, until he found himself looking into the old Jedi’s eyes. They were green, green as swamp water. He had never quite realized before how terrifying those eyes could be. One could drown in them. One could be pulled under.

“Teach me about pain, think you can?” Yoda said softly. “Think the old Master cannot care, mmm? Forgotten who I am, have you? Old am I, yes. Mm. Loved more than you, have I, Padawan. Lost more. Hated more. Killed more.” The green eyes narrowed to gleaming slits under heavy lids. Dragon eyes, old and terrible. “Think wisdom comes at no cost? The dark side, yes - it is easier for them. The pain grows too great, and they eat the darkness to flee from it. Not Yoda. Yoda loves and suffers for it, loves and suffers.”

One could have heard a feather hit the floor.

“The price of Yoda’s wisdom, high it is, very high, and the cost goes on forever. But teach me about pain, will you?”

“I...” Whie’s mouth worked. “I am sorry, Master. I was angry. But...what if they’re right?” he cried out in anguish. “What if the galaxy is dark. What if it’s like Ventress says: we are born, we suffer, we die, and that is all. What if there is no plan, what if there is no ‘goodness’? What if we suffer blindly, trying to find a reason for the suffering, but we’re just fooling ourselves, looking for hope that isn’t there? What if there is nothing but stars and the black space between them and the galaxy does not care if we live or die?”

Yoda said, “It’s true.”

The Padawans looked at him in shock.

The Master’s short legs swung forth and back, forth and back. “Perhaps,” he added. He sighed. “Many days, feel certain of a greater hope, I do. Some days, not so.” He shrugged. “What difference does it make?”

“Ventress was right?” Whie said, shocked out of his anger.

“No! Wrong she is! As wrong as she can be!” Yoda snorted. “Grief in the galaxy, is there? Oh, yes. Oceans of it. Worlds. And darkness?” Yoda pointed to the starscape on the projection table. “There you see: darkness, darkness everywhere, and a few stars. A few points of light. If no plan there is, no fate, no destiny, no providence, no Force: then what is left?” He looked at each of them in turn. “Nothing but our choices, hmm?”

“Asajj eats the darkness, and the darkness eats her back. Do that if you wish, Whie. Do that if you wish.” The old Jedi looked deep into the starscape, suns and planets and nebulae dancing, tiny points of light blazing in the darkness. “To be Jedi is to face the truth, and choose. Give off light, or darkness, Padawan.” His matted eyebrows rose high over his swamp-colored eyes, and he poked Whie with the end of his stick. Poke, poke. “Be a candle, or the night, Padawan: but choose!”

Whie cried for what seemed like a long time. Scout ate. Fidelis served. Master Yoda told stories of Maks Leem and Jai Maruk: tales of their most exciting adventures, of course, but also comical anecdotes from the days when they were only children in the Temple. They drank together, many toasts.

Scout cried. Whie ate. Fidelis served.

Yoda told stories, and ate, and cried, and laughed: and the Padawans saw that life itself was a lightsaber in his hands; even in the face of treachery and death and hopes gone cold, he burned like a candle in the darkness. Like a star shining in the black eternity of space.

I want to show this passage to every hot-take Yoda-critical fan who’s ever leveled that kind of nonsense at him. I want every one of them to read this and still try to tell me that Yoda is detached and uncaring of the galaxy around him. I want every fan who thinks the Jedi are expected to be unfeeling to read this and understand what the Jedi actually say and do and why giving into these feelings is the issue, not the feelings themselves.

The confrontation with Dooku is also amazing. Yoda challenges him to explain why the dark side is so great, and Dooku only gets more and more frustrated as Yoda is unswayed by any of what he tempts him with. I especially love this bit where Yoda lays out exactly why what the dark side promises is false:

“Want something else. Want power.”

“Power have I.”

“Want wealth.”

“Wealth I need not.”

“Want to be safe,” Dooku said in frustration. “Want to be free from fear!”

“I will never be safe,” Yoda said. He turned away from Dooku, a shapeless bundle under a battered, acid-eaten cloak. “The universe is large and cold and very dark: that is the truth. What I love, taken from me will be, late or soon: and no power is there, dark or light, that can save me.”

That then leads into a bit where Dooku has a vision of what a dark!Yoda would look like, and realizes how utterly terrifying that would be.

Dooku also has abandonment issues on full display - lashing out at the lady who had given her son up to the Jedi, getting furious at her on the son’s behalf (but so clearly, his own, speaking of his own resentment towards his parents), and throwing an absolute hissy fit because he’s convinced Yoda likes Anakin more than him. I’m not kidding, he’s so offended by Anakin’s entire existence that just his mere presence in his house is enough for Dooku to stop feeling conflicted about the whole thing and jump right back into the dark side.

And there’s just so many good little moments throughout it all on top of all that. Whie’s dreams - and oh, I knew exactly what his dream of his own death was when he described it to Scout and it hurt at the end when he hugged Anakin while saying “I’m so glad you’re not coming to kill me!”. And Ventress, calling Dooku out on the fact that it’s so obvious that Sidious will end up replacing him (also for a more humorous bit - the fact that she apparently has some petty grudge against Anakin and Obi-Wan for stealing her ships so she goes out of her way to steal their ship at the end), and the droids, and Scout’s cleverness in winning the tournament despite her disadvantages, Jai Maruk’s last stand and refusal to fall when he was at the edge, and...so much, really.

And above all else, the book really latches onto the idea of Jedi as family, and you all know how much I really, really love the idea of the Jedi as a big found family. The idea that they consider each other to be family is driven home again and again, in their words and in their actions, and I absolutely adore this book for that emphasis.

[ocsxinxpurgatory]

Best Foot Forward (Introductory Drabble)

Series: Wynonna Earp

Disclaimer: Elaine, Roy, Dirk, and Sampson are mine as is the plot and everything else is borrowed in this work of fan-made fiction off of which no money is made. 

Setting: Season 1 Compliant

Pairing: None

Rating: G

On the heels of a relationship gone sour, Elaine Walker isn’t expecting much moving through one town to the next. Purgatory is not supposed to be any different. However, she finds herself more enamored than she likes when a bike shop owner gives her a chance...

*~*~*~*

Best Foot Forward

The town being named Purgatory seemed as much a joke as she was at this point or Elaine had just passed too tired to be amused or entertained. Pulling into an open space by the hotel she can only hope that there would be a room. At this point and with how things were she’s not exactly hopeful.

Stepping for the desk, she’s met with a half-asleep receptionist who nearly jumps at her approach and stares like they’re not actually sure what they’re seeing. “Um...hello! Little late isn’t it?”

“Sorry for the early intrusion,” she responds, “Was passing through and decided I needed somewhere to sleep before I tried any further. Is there a room?”

“Well, yes, of course there is. I just...You should be careful around the outskirts of town a little thing like you. Coyotes are numerous in this part and they can be dangerous.”

She blinks slowly. “Coyotes?”

“Mmhmm. Lots of them. Mostly at night if you’re not careful. So just, you know, be careful.”

As Elaine gives her information and gets the room key, she isn’t sure why she feels like it was the wrong word to be used though she can’t quite figure what else the male might mean.

Deciding she was reading way too much into things considering her exhausted state, she’s glad to be in the small room. The decor is rustic; a tribute to it’s western roots no doubt but it’s not the worst thing she’d seen. Setting her suitcase down, she slumps onto the bed. “It’s just for a day or two,” she mumbles, “Then I’ll figure this out. That’s it. Just a day or two.”

One or two days quickly becomes a lot longer as she explores Purgatory and finds that the rustic charm holds a strange sort of welcome for her. And it soothes the parts of her that had led her to needing out of the city she was born in. A help-wanted sign catches her attention at a bike shop and desires she’d long learned to push to the side flare in her. Couldn’t hurt to ask now could it? They were probably looking for someone more qualified, someone more...masculine. But she was knowledgeable and she was not about to be talked down to. Not ever again.

It’s with this in mind that she steps into the shop letting her shoulders tighten in determination as she strolls to the counter. The man behind it straightens on her approach before greeting, “Afternoon, miss, what can I do for ya?”

“You have a sign on the door. What are you looking for exactly?” she asks without preamble meeting his gaze evenly.

His lips curve upwards at the edges. “Need someone knowledgeable ‘bout bikes and putting them together. Also with makin’ deliveries to clients.”

“Is there an application?”

There is now a definite grin on the male’s face but it’s not the usual one of condescension she’s been used to up until now. “Not an application as it goes. More like a test run. You feel up to showin’ what you can do?”

“Absolutely.”

It doesn’t take an hour before she’s given a job offer and something in her shifts into place. “Thank you,” she tells him after signing the last form.

“Ain’t nothin’ to thank me for. Job should be done by someone capable of it. And you, little lady, are capable as hell. I’d be an idiot not to hire you. Just a few precautions though; one of our biggest clients is also half owner of this place. He owns a few businesses here and there in Purgatory so we tend to stay on his good side; man by the name of Bobo Del Rey. So long as his deliveries are on time and his boys are allowed free reign to come and go and work here everything is fine.”

“So keep the boss happy, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard. I can watch myself around men.”

“Ain’t even gonna be that much of an issue there. They won’t care too much so long as you are capable and I have no doubts that you are. And if they do then Dirk or Sampson will get them under control. Those two head up one of the biker groups in town. And one does not mess with either of them if they know what’s good for them.”

“Okay, so just work around them. Gotcha. I can do that. But really, Roy, thanks for this opportunity. I really appreciate it.”

“Somehow, I think you’re gonna be the one needin’ the thankin’, little lady.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

It’s a week before she meets any of them. Walking in, she hears, “So, you hired a woman? Like you seriously…”

She watches Roy gaze at her before his lips curve and without missing a beat calls, “Afternoon, Elaine!”

“Afternoon,” she greets as she makes her way to the register, “Anything special on the agenda?”

“Oh, you know just a couple of idiots who decided to go off-roading and nearly killed themselves.”

“Ouch, someone should save the bikes from them if they’re going to be that awful.”

“Won’t lie, that’s a thought. Oh, by the way, Elaine, this is one of Del Rey’s boys. He was just leaving.”

Elaine watches the male still and look at her boss before something seems to register and he gives a rueful smile before responding, “I really didn’t mean anything by it, Roy. It’s just…”

“It’s just my shop and my rules. You want to sound like an idiot, you can do it elsewhere. You know exactly what Dirk would have said to you if…”

Elaine watches the look of horror that appears and finds it actually comical. “Please, oh god, please don’t tell him about this!”

She hides a grin as she clocks in. She’d liked Roy when he’d given her a chance, more now that he was defending her. Instead of saying anything, she just walks around the male heading for a bike she was finishing up on and resuming the work letting Roy finish the conversation. It’s not long before she hears, “That won’t happen again, I can promise you that.”

“The way he responded when you mentioned Dirk was like you were siccing Satan himself on the guy.”

“Oh no,” Roy chuckles, “That would be if I threatened to tell Del Rey but Dirk’s a scary second where they’re concerned.”

“Will I ever get a chance to meet this Dirk?”

Roy chuckles. “Oh, just you wait and you will. Him and Sampson. I, for one, cannot wait for that meeting.”

As she finishes the last few items needing to be adjusted on the current project, Elaine finds herself extremely curious for that as well. Her gaze shifts to the bikes against the wall looking like they’d been through a ringer. “How long do we have for those?”

“Oh, as long as it takes. Folks of the two who owned that are of the mind that the longer it takes the better the lesson the idiot teenagers will learn.”

“Of course it would be idiot kids,” she snorts.

“Well, at least they were wearing the proper gear so their trip to the hospital was probably short. But yeah, they can wait a few days so no rush on them.”

A moment later, the bell chimes and they both turn to see a new pair walk in. Roy chuckles as he gives them his attention. “Well, speak of the demons, I suppose. Elaine, I’d like to introduce you to Dirk and Sampson Shepherd. Dirk, Sampson, this is Elaine Walker. She’s my newest hire. So if any of the idiots come back grumpy about having nothin’ to do it’s ‘cause they’re being stupid.”

Elaine gazes at the pair who are giving her their attention instead of Roy and she’s sure it’s because they’re familiar with him. She gives a small smile before slowly rising wiping her hands on the smock she was wearing. “Pleasure to meet you, gentlemen.”

“And you,” comes the easy reply, “I’m Dirk. This is Sampson. He doesn’t take much until he gets to know you. Welcome to Purgatory, by the way, since I have a feeling you’re new to town.”

“Sort of stumbled here and decided not to leave,” she admits, “There’s...something of a charm here that I like. Not sure exactly what that charm is but it’s there. Though, I’m getting a little concerned about how often I’m warned about coyotes.”

She’s surprised by the deep, amused laugh that earns from Sampson as he gazes avidly in a different direction and Dirk rolls his eyes at him before offering, “It’s something everyone is told when they come here. Tends to keep people from doing stupid things at night and getting into trouble.”

“See, I thought that might be it but…” She is quiet for a moment, “The word seemed wrong to me. Like they meant something else but…Never mind, I’m sure I’m being silly. It was just...strange to me.”

“Purgatory is one of those places where you’ll find that strangeness is our normal,” Roy remarks.

“I mean with a name like that, I would imagine so, I suppose,” she murmurs, “Anyway, pleasure to meet you both.”

“And you,” Dirk responds with a grin before he pokes the male beside him who still seems to be very amused, “And I am sure Sampson, here, agrees.”

“Of course,” comes the low rumbled response as he slowly gazes at her, eyes intense, “But do take care of yourself, little miss.”

“That’s the game plan.”

[nadziejastar]

Can you think of other characters besides Riku, Terra and Isa who might have a 'Shadow self' and 'supressed feelings'?

“Master Eraqus, you see, is so afraid of darkness that he, too, has succumbed—not to darkness, but to light. It shines so brightly, he forgets that light begets darkness.”

It’s sad how underdeveloped a lot of the characters are. Fortunately, we’re gonna get Dark Road pretty soon, which will flesh out Xehanort and Eraqus a lot. I think Eraqus had a very strong Shadow Self and a lot of suppressed feelings. He was so afraid of darkness, it caused him to turn on his own pupils and miss vital warning signs that Terra needed support.

*Sigh*, it was so much better when I had no heart. When I didn’t have to worry about things like liking someone.

Becoming fond of something is painful. That’s why those feelings were taken advantage of.

Larxene definitely had a strong Shadow Self. Unfortunately, she didn’t get much backstory during the Xehanort Saga. But obviously, her issue had to do with love. Larxene wanted love, but she was suppressing that desire. She pushed people away and acted cold to protect herself, like Elsa. She had been hurt in the past.

Namine was originally thought of as Kairi’s Shadow Self. I think Namine was supposed to be the manifestation of Kairi’s suppressed feelings. Kairi was left alone at the end of KH1 while Sora went on other adventures. She felt useless and forgotten about by everyone. Her two childhood friends were gone. She was lonely. Of course, since Kairi is a Princess of Heart, even her Shadow Self is still really pure-hearted and bright.  

Are you really worthy of being a Keyblade Master?

Obviously Aqua developed a strong Shadow Self after being in the Realm of Darkness.

Is there any point in continuing this fight?

Her Shadow Self voiced all her fears.

You'll never see the Realm of Light again.

And all her doubts.

Just let go of everything and fade into the darkness.

She felt hopelessness and despair.

No one can save you. And no one wants to.

She didn’t even think anyone wanted to save her.

Your bonds of friendship only tie you down.

My favorite of Shadow Aqua’s lines has to be this one. All of her other ones are pretty much what you’d expect. But this one sounds so out-of-character for her. She’d never EVER say that out loud. It was definitely a suppressed feeling.

Only your heart is hollow enough to be a demon's.

But part of here DID feel like her bonds only brought her down. And she felt guilty for feeling that way.

Ansem the Wise had a strong Shadow Self. DiZ was nothing but a persona to hide his shame. He convinced himself that he was acting as a servant of the world when deep down, he knew he wasn’t. Of course, Ansem the Wise didn’t get fully developed, either. I’m sure there was a story there in KH0.5 where it would show his whole backstory, how he got banished, how he became DiZ, and how he came to be remorseful enough to put his data inside of Sora’s heart while he was asleep.

Sora is...complicated. Too complicated, which is probably why it didn’t really go anywhere.

The figure at the center of the room glanced up at him, and Roxas flinched at being caught staring. But though the hood kept the wearer’s eyes hidden, Roxas could see a smile. Something was so familiar about it, but he couldn’t think of where he would have seen it before. There were so many things he couldn’t remember about these last seven days. It hadn’t scared him before—but now it did a little.

When Xion was born she looked up at Roxas with a creepy smile. I think Xion was born of Sora’s Replica/Shadow Self, who also had a creepy smile. Xion wasn’t a unique character any more than Riku Replica was. She was a Sora Replica. Riku Replica is Riku’s Shadow Self. Xion is Sora’s Shadow Self. Xion can even wield a Keyblade from the Dark Realm (Two Keys).

Roxas was also the bright one, while Xion was the more “dark” and pessimistic one. Roxas was optimistic and didn’t worry or think too deeply about stuff. He always thought Xion could come back to the organization and everything would be fine. He was pretty simple, like Sora. Xion was the moody angsty one who questioned her existence all the time. She felt like a burden on Axel and especially Roxas. Roxas always helped her out. And at the end, she was sucking his power from him. She felt like she didn’t deserve to exist.

Once Roxas absorbed Xion, that’s when he became the angsty person everyone remembers from KH2. Before that, he was pure and bright, like Ventus. It was only after Xion disappeared that he became so “dark” and angry.

Like Namine, Roxas was originally meant to just be Sora’s Shadow Self, nothing more. But he evolved into his own unique character with his own heart (Ventus). I think Nomura originally wanted to use the connection between Sora and Ventus to develop both Ven’s and Sora’s darker sides, but he never really got the chance. KH3′s story was a mess and Xion and Vanitas really didn’t amount to much other than being needlessly convoluted. Vanitas didn’t have any depth at all. But he was supposed to be Ven’s darkness as well as the shadow that Sora cast.

Ventus is Sora’s darkness. Sora’s powerful light was the reason why his heart was a prison to him.

Roxas: I hate you so much...

DiZ: You should share some of that hatred with Sora. He's far too nice for his own good.

Roxas: No! My heart belongs to me!

His heart couldn’t wake up because Sora’s light was casting too large of a shadow on him. Sora’s light only fueled his anger and pain and pushed him further into the darkness.

Sora was supposed to do something to awaken the darkness in him in order to wake Roxas/Ventus up, but of course that subplot went absolutely nowhere.

“But why would you advise me not to fight darkness with light?”

The Fairy Godmother replied, gentle but admonishing. “Strong rays of sun create dark shadows. Sadly, Lady Tremaine and both her daughters are jealous of Cinderella’s charm and beauty, qualities that appear to you as ‘light.’ Jealousy is darkness. Light and dark go hand in hand. You can’t have one without the other.”

I think the idea was that when someone is in a lot of pain, you can’t truly connect with their heart just by being “light”. You need to be able to meet them where they are---in the darkness. 

Riku didn’t preach to Dark Aqua about letting go of her misery and despair. He could empathize with how she felt because he had his own darkness. And I think THAT’S what Sora needed in order to be the real hero. His light wasn’t enough. He needed to enhance his darkness in order to really be empathetic and wake Ventus up. But that never really happened.

Perhaps it’s why Nomura said he cannot empathize with Sora and he relates more to dark characters like Xehanort. Sora was too bright for him in the end. It’s why he wouldn’t have made a good Seeker of Darkness.

Nomura probably relates to Riku more. The closer Riku got to Sora’s light, the greater his shadow became.

“You’re talking like I’m some kind of creature of the darkness.”

But it was true that he’d turned away from the light.

No—not from the light exactly. From Sora.

Because Sora shone too brightly… And then, he became the hero of light, and I gave myself over to the darkness.

Like Roxas/Ventus, Riku couldn’t tolerate Sora’s strong light because it fueled the darkness inside him. Being around someone so overwhelmingly bright and positive made him feel bad about himself and he became jealous.

“And Aqua and Ventus, their lights shine too bright. It is only natural that they cast shadows on your heart.”

Master Xehanort pointed at Terra’s chest.

The light within Aqua and Ven—created the darkness in me…?

Xehanort probably felt that way about Eraqus, too. I���m sure he had a very strong Shadow Self and was projecting that onto Terra. Ventus and Aqua were too bright and they only fueled Terra’s shadow. Of course, Aqua and Ventus had their own darkness. Aqua threw herself into darkness for Terra. And I think Ventus’s time as Roxas (Sora’s Shadow) was supposed to give him enough development and darkness to truly understand Terra’s pain, so he could be able to properly connect with him and bring him back to the light using the power of waking.

It seemed like you didn't need me either. Yes, I thought that I didn't need you with me anymore. That's why I sacrificed myself to that man. If you didn't need me, then I no longer held meaning.

The greater the light, the darker the shadow. Riku and Terra felt like they were overshadowed by their friends. I think they had a similar idea for Lea and Isa, only a bit different. Riku was jealous of Sora in an envious way. I think Isa was jealous of Lea in a possessive way. And this is why I don’t think Lea would have made a good Seeker of Darkness. He was meant to be the bright one, like Sora. It was part of his character. He did gain a lot of darkness over the course of the story, to make him empathetic enough to reach Isa. But he was a Guardian of Light at his core. 

I think Isa felt the same way Xion did. He felt like he was nothing without Lea and had nothing to offer him. He was just a drain on him. Lea was the light, the Sun. Isa was the Moon, the darkness. The Moon can’t create its own light. It is dependent on the Sun and simply reflects its light. And I think that’s how Isa felt about Lea. Lea was the source of his light. He was so happy, positive, outgoing, and cheerful. But Isa felt like he had nothing to offer him. And that’s why Saix became so irrationally jealous when Axel became close to Roxas and Xion.

[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.

[letscuttothefeeling]

season three episode two

Before we get into the intricacies of this subpar episode, I want you to close your eyes, inhale, and reflect: is the guy you’re dating your boyfriend, or is he a father figure to you? Think about it. Now let’s cut to the feeling.

I don’t know about you, but seeing a groggy Old Man Ish clumsily lumber around in a backwards hat and a short-sleeved gorilla tee while holding his morning coffee made me immediately sick. And I’m just watching it on TV. Imagine being Madisson and waking up to that. Like, yes, this show is my sole will to live, but even I can’t stomach this. It really can’t get worse. Oh my God. Ish just described Brandon as “agro.” It did get worse. 

Thank god Ish is finally off my screen and I’m back to looking at G baby and BG. Appetite restored. Jared’s also there, so I’m unable to entirely recover from the Ish debacle, but I guess this is the best I can hope for. And may I just add that I am absolutely loving this playful “boys” scene? Seeing the guys boolin with their goon squad is bringing the vibes up big time. BG doesn’t even seem upset about Dadisson – in fact, he begins talking about a potential budding romance with Amanda! And just like that, we’re back on track.  

Strap in. The scene I’ve been waiting for. Dadisson’s reveal to her actual, biological father. Fade in. Jon, Madisson’s bio dad, is seated outside at a cute restaurant, completely unaware of the bomb that is about to explode in his face. As he looks up and sees his daughter walking over with her former producer, you can see the confusion setting in. Wait, what? Why is my youngest daughter walking in with Ish, the show’s old producer? Isn’t she supposed to be introducing me to her boyfriend? Oh, no . . . I think at that point, Jon must know, but he’s remaining willfully ignorant for as long as possible. And I get that, Jon. I do.

 Ish has this special oafish trudge that seriously makes him look like some sort of ogre and I am absolutely living for it. When the lovebirds take their seats, a dark cloud rolls over the Key. Reality sets in. Madisson starts telling her real father about her new Daddy, and my heart is racing. After establishing their respective ages, Jon takes a deep breath and calmly asks the most uncomfortable question your Dad could ever ask you about your boyfriend: “Is he a father figure to you?”

Let’s decompress. This has to be one of the rawest scenes on reality TV, so pour one out for Jon, who at this point was undoubtedly racking his brain trying to recall the exact moment he fucked Madisson up so badly that she now actively chooses to bang 50-year olds. I feel bad for you, Jon. Back to the show.

Madisson is crying, Jon is reeling over his mistakes, and Ish is trying to defend his relationship. As for me, I have one question: could Siesta Key have provided these poor souls with drinks before forcing them to do this on camera?

After that cringey scene, I’m more than happy to watch Amanda and BG have a SPICY meetuppé. Unfortunately, Amanda begins serving me really strange vibes and I’m kind of scared of her. There’s too much licking involved on this date and I’m not interested. Let’s cut to the next scene, where Madisson and Brandon meet to hopefully get closure.

Finally, we get a glimpse of the breakuppé timeline! If you remember correctly, Season 2 ended with us thinking we’d get a glorious Bradisson reunion in Season 3. Alas, we have Dadisson instead. Please don’t misconstrue this as a complaint, because it’s very far from that. I’m just a little confused as to how Dadisson came about, and apparently, so is BG. Madisson explains that after she moved to LA, she no longer felt connected to Brandon. Two months after breaking things off, she began taking to Ish. Brandon isn’t buying it. He’s convinced their relationship has been brewing for some time. Personally, I believe her. She’s never lied and I think Brandon is projecting his own issues onto Madisson. Thoughts?

Lots of tough conversations today – now we’re at Cara’s waiting anxiously for her to drop the news we all knew was coming from the moment she started dating Garrett. That she wants to break up. I think now is as good a time as any to unpack Garrett’s love life. Garrett. Get it together. The whole “hot but stupid” narrative is something the producers are pushing . . . right? You cannot possibly be this idiotic IRL. But love is blinding, I guess. Garrett was cheated on by Kelsey (with Alex), used by Juliette to make someone jealous (Alex), and used by Cara to piss off Kelsey and Juliette (and Alex.) Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me three times, and you can call me Garrett Miller.

 Okay, time for Kelsey and Juliette’s housewarming / rosé party! That had to be the whitest sentence I’ve ever written. The party begins and everyone seems to be in good spirits. Side note – I really applaud the film crew for catching everything that they do. They even got a short clip of Garrett having difficulty opening the front door and included it to perpetuate the very true belief that Garrett is actually a failed artificial intelligence robot project gone wrong.

Chloe arrives with a shot ski, but “Con Artist” Robby has to one-up her by bringing a TV. She’s convinced he’s bringing it to make up for how small his dick is. Boys, you heard it here first – don’t even THINK about bringing a TV to a party unless you want everyone to know how small your penis is! Madisson’s not even paying attention to Boring Robby’s embarrassing genital blunder because she’s too busy eyeing Amanda and Brandon. She even has the audacity to whisper, “I just hope he has the best intentions.” Right, because Ish definitely has the best intentions with you. Okay, Madisson.

 Notably missing from the soir��e is Cara and my new favorite cast member, Victoria. Kelsey obviously vetoed Cara’s invite, so C and V decided to get a romantic relaxing beachside massage instead. Cara begins explaining that she’s only stringing Garrett along because he functions as her safety net. Meanwhile, at the party, Juliette is having to spell this out to simple Garrett. He looks glum. Suddenly, Garrett’s “unhappy hour” t-shirt seems much more fitting.

 Chloe and Amanda are in a corner, and shocker, they’re talking shit about Juliette and Robby. Juliette overhears, confronts them, and tensions rise. Chloe and Juliette step outside to discuss it further, and it becomes very apparent to me that Juliette is utterly plastered. Chloe is basically sober. What could go wrong?

 Everything! Chloe starts off by asking Juliette what she thinks about their friendship. Obviously, these two have a sordid past, but Juliette is literally too blackout to articulate anything, so Chloe’s immediately won this before it even really begins. Towards the end of the conversation, Juliette starts wagging her finger in Chloe’s face. Chloe slaps it away, so naturally, Juliette retaliates by PUNCHING HER IN THE HEAD. Juliette, I love you, and I’m normally on your side, but this is just not a good lewk. Chloe is straight chilling while Juliette attempts to rip out her extensions. So of course, Chloe looks like the normal one, and Juliette looks like she’s on The Bad Girls Club instead of Siesta Key. Hopefully, she’ll learn a lesson from this, because violence is never the answer!

Unfortunately, Juliette doesn’t learn that lesson! As soon as Amanda steps in to break up the fight, Juliette also tries to hit her. She also can’t understand why Amanda is being so harsh when Amanda was the one who punched Chloe in the face and broke her nose two years ago. Which I feel like is valid! Everyone is screaming, running around and fighting. Genuine chaos. Anarchy. The only person there who is remaining calm is Brandon. He is quite literally the human embodiment of Switzerland. Immediately I’m reminded of that part in Twilight’s third book, Eclipse, when Bella is forced to be the voice of reason and soothe the tensions between vampire Edward and werewolf Jacob. In order to fight the vampire army that Victoria’s newborn lover has created, the vampires and werewolves must put aside their inherent differences and join forces. If not, they could totally ravage Seattle, travel to the quaint town of Forks, and potentially eat Police Chief Charlie Swan!! By becoming a neutral Switzerland, Bella narrowly avoids this horrific fate. Like Bella, Brandon remains neutral in a time of utter disaster. Thanks, Brandon. But more importantly, thank YOU, Stephanie Meyer.

 Kelsey swiftly removes everyone from her home and starts looking for Amanda’s lost phone while Boring Robby hugs Juliette and tries to make her feel better about being the worst. And Kelsey standing around in the background after having to forcibly remove all her friends from her property while her roommate makes out with her boyfriend is such a vibe.

After Cara comes to the rescue to pickuppé the stranded party guests, the episode ends. Overall, I was pretty unhappy with this episode, but I feel that it was a necessary step to get us back in the right direction. I just miss Alex. He needs to return from Europe immediately. I’m tired of all of this girl drama and I want Boring Robby to become Interesting Robby. The next episode seems promising – but we’ll have to wait and see.

[looselucy]

To War - Dunkirk / Alex

Part 3 of 4

- We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air. We shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be; we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender. - Evelyn ran towards the train station, her hair loose and falling messily over her shoulders, and she could see other people rushing in the same direction. She could see anxious parents hoping to see their sons, wives gripping the hands of young children as they marched towards the station.

The little information they had received, was that some men were returning home, and everyone was desperate for it to be their loved ones. She practically crashed against the fence, unable to slow herself down beforehand, arriving just in time to see the train doors opening, and men pouring onto the platform. She was trying to catch her breath as she watched them all sulk towards the indoor part of the station, her eyes hysterically scanning over each face. “There’s so few of them.” She gasped, turning briefly to address the woman by her side. “Why is there so few of them?” “They’ve come from Dunkirk.” The nervous woman answered. Suddenly, it was like she couldn’t breathe at all, looking back out to the boys as they slowly made their way home. She thought that she would see smiles. She thought she would be able to see how happy they all were to be home, but they all seemed so sad. Defeated. Only a few of the men darted to the side to greet their loved ones, the rest keeping their heads down and just going inside, ushered by a man who looked as though he held some authority. Evelyn watched with wistful eyes as the young men hugged their families over the gates that held them apart, clearly glad to be home but still looking totally distraught. By what had happened. By what they’d seen. By everything. She watched wistfully as the woman she’d just spoken to clutched her son’s cheeks, tears in both their eyes, and she couldn’t help but smile. There was something so heartbreakingly beautiful about that tender, and totally silent moment they were sharing. Slowly, she took her eyes back to the train, seeing that there were only a few men left onboard. “C’mon, Alex.” She whispered encouragingly. “Please, please, please be home. Please.” She was losing hope. With each miserable man that stepped off the train, she was losing hope. This wasn’t the first time a train full of men had come back, each from different locations, wherever the whispers of war had called them, and each time Evelyn had showed her face at the station hoping that he’d be one of them. But thus far, no luck. She kept telling herself in her mind over and over again that there had been no flowers. His mother hadn’t received a telegram and there had been no damn flowers. Even if he didn’t get off this train, he was alive and she knew that. Deep down, she knew that. But there were these swirling doubts that she couldn’t silence. The thought that a telegram could be on its way. Or maybe it had gotten lost somewhere. Or maybe he was badly hurt and she just didn’t know. All she could say to herself as comfort, was that there were no flowers outside his home, but it wasn’t enough. It was only a split second before she lost all hope, that she spotted him, his head down, covered in what appeared to be dirt, looking just as lifeless and shattered as the rest of them. Her heart was thundering against her chest, half convinced that the image of the boy she loved was just an illusion; her aching mind playing tricks on her and projecting this image of him just to soothe her soul somewhat. But he was real. And he was home. He was practically kicking the stone beneath his feet as he walked towards the station, seeming just as, if not more, down than the others. But he was there and he was real and he was alive and he was home and Evelyn’s heart had bunched up so tightly in her throat, she couldn’t pluck up the stamina to speak quite as soon as she’d hoped. She attempted once, weak and fragile and broken, and then finally barked his name loud enough. “Alex!” Without stopping moving, he turned his head, catching a glimpse of her, an unreadable emotion jammed onto his hurt features, and before she could even smile at him, he dropped his head, and just walked into the station. She felt as though she’d been punched in the gut. He had merely looked at her, and then dropped his head again. No smile. Not even a nod of acknowledgement. There was nothing. Her heart fell from her throat with a thud, crashing back into its original place, cracking on impact. For the first time in years, he’d looked at her like he didn’t even know her. What she was feeling in that moment, stood there, completely alone, was the total opposite of how she thought she would feel if he was to ever get off one of those trains. It was agonizing. - We shall never surrender… - “He’s a coward.” Joyce spoke with an eyeroll as they worked. Evelyn had just shared the story of what had happened the day previous at the train station. The way that Alex barely acknowledged her. She had considered waiting for him outside the station, but after such a cold reception from him, she hadn’t wanted to put herself through even more pain. She’d half expected him to appear in the middle of the night; to throw stones at her window and request her time once more. But he never had. She wanted to tell the tale because she knew it would feel like a weight from her shoulders, spreading her sorrow evenly with the women who worked beside her in the factory, and yet even though she was choosing to share the story, she felt a need to defend him. “He’s not a coward.” She mumbled, shaking her head. “He’s just… never been good at processing… how he feels.” “That’s not an excuse!” Mary joined in. “It’s not.” Joyce agreed. “Before he left, he told you he loved you, Eve. He can’t… finally come home, and act like you don’t exist.” “He’d just gotten off the train, he was probably-” “You’re around some extremely headstrong women, Evelyn.” Mary chuckled. “There’s no use trying to change our mind on him quite yet.” Mary was much older than the rest of the girls in that certain section of the factory, but she’d bonded with all of them very easily. Evelyn viewed her as a wise woman, someone who she could go to and seek advice. She was incredibly headstrong. She had told the girls a few months earlier, that she’d learnt her husband was having an affair a few years ago, and she kicked him out without a second thought. It was practically unheard of, that a woman would be so bold and do that. He was the sole breadwinner that provided for their family, but she didn’t care. She had forced him out and she had found work and she had survived, happily, without him. Evelyn admired Mary, and would listen to her words of advice. “He’ll come to me when he’s ready.” She sighed. “When the time is right.” Most of the girls surrounding her nodded, except Mary, who stopped her work for a brief moment so she could turn to face her and address the issue properly. “Things shouldn’t always be on his terms, Evelyn.” She began. “His gender means nothing. It gives him no authority. The sooner you learn that, the better. You shouldn’t feel as though you need to wait for him to come to you. You’re a part of this, and you have a right to voice how you’re feeling. Approach him. Do not wait for him. If he really is that bad at handling his feelings, you might be waiting forever.” Evelyn thought back to the night before he left for war. It took that fear, for him to finally admit his feelings, and even so, it had to be at a certain time in a certain place and in a certain way, because Alex planned things meticulously in his mind. He would predict how things should be. She didn’t want to have to wait for fear to strike once more so that he would pluck up the courage and reach out to her. She didn’t want to have to play out a plan that he hadn’t even involved her in. As much as she didn’t want to hurt him or crush expectations, because she knew he didn’t handle that sort of thing well, it had reached the stage where she couldn’t hold back and let him have his way. Her emotions and her future with him was at stake, and she couldn’t wait any longer. “You’re right.” She agreed through a sigh. “I shouldn’t just work on his schedule.” “Go to him.” Joyce encouraged, giggling like they were creating some grand plan. Evelyn nodded, forcing a smile and trying to convince the girls that she was excited and confident about their new plot, but she wasn’t. She was nervous. About every single aspect of it. - In a life and death struggle, we cannot afford to leave our destinies in the hands of failures. - She had planned to go much earlier, really. She had planned to finish work, and eat, and then go to his home and speak things over with him, as calmly as she could. But that hadn’t happened. A few things held her back; the thought of his mother being one of them. As the evening grew older, she could feel an anger bubbling up inside of her, and she didn’t want to go around and yell at the boy whilst his mother was there, experiencing the first full day of her son being home from war. She didn’t want to interrupt that. And of course, her nerves had held her back. She’d never done anything like this before in her whole life, to be so purposefully confrontational and to seek out someone in that way. And she was terrified that he would somehow just ignore her presence again, turn her away and ignore everything that they’d spoken about the evening before he left. She feared he’d grown to regret the things he’d said to her, that he’d gone away and experienced so much and learnt so much and realised he no longer wanted a life with her. She was apprehensive about the whole thing, so it must have been way past midnight by the time she finally worked up the momentum to go and see him. She built up the confidence on the short journey, and went from tiptoeing through those familiar streets, to storming through them, fire erupting beneath her heel with each heated march. She was finally allowing herself to feel angry. His home was a little out of the centre of the village, a small bungalow set back upon a large bed of grass, standing lonely and dark. It had always looked slightly out of place compared to the other cottages that were nearby, but completely at home where it was. It blended with the nature around it, weeds climbing and clutching at the roots of his home, ivy climbing proud and unevenly across the front. It was unkept, really, and that was why it looked so idyllic in its location. Evelyn took a moment to stare at it, before she began her approach. She knew which one his bedroom was, so she went to the window, darting down the right hand side of the house and extending her arm upwards so she could knock aggressively against the weak glass. She must have only left it five seconds before she was knocking again. It wasn’t long after that he appeared, ripping the curtains back, eyes tired and half shut, body bare, glaring from the dark room down to her. She tried not to weaken at that sight alone, his broad frame and scruffy hair, his weary eyes. She ticked her head to the side, summoning him to meet her at the front of the house, and she began her venture there before she could even acknowledge if he was going to grant her request. She stood on the gravel footpath that lead to his front door, a few feet away from the door, arms held behind her back waiting for him to appear, which he soon did. He hadn’t dressed himself, rubbing over his eyes and just wearing some baggy, knee length drawers; the only thing covering his frame. He woke himself as much as possible before he spoke. “Eve-” “If you’ve changed your mind, and if you don’t want a future with me anymore, I have a right to know.” “What?” “But you cannot just… ignore me. Turn your head away from me like you don’t even know me. Once again, Alex, it seems you struggle to take into consideration my feelings. You’re acting like a child, and being selfish, again. Well I won’t stand for it anymore. I have a right to know what’s going on here, and I deserve a bit of recognition from you. You hurt me yesterday.” “I never want to hurt you.” “Then stop doing it. How did you think I would feel?” He took a step further outdoors, closing the door behind himself, because Evelyn’s voice was gradually getting louder as she became more frustrated. “I… I don’t know. I was-” “You hurt me yesterday.” She reiterated. “You looked right through me. My heart has been aching enough. I have missed you so terribly, and worried about you every single day. To see you get home and… and glance at me like I was a stranger when I’ve done nothing but think of you. Why did you do that?” With his head low, he looked to her, words failing him, his jaw clenching and his temples pulsing. It didn’t even look like he was struggling to find the right words, really, more like he genuinely didn’t have anything to say to her. She waited, but got nothing from him. “I deserve more than a vacant stare.” She fumed. “I deserve the love you promised you would give me before you left.” “And that’s all I want to give you.” He finally answered, quiet but clear. “Then why don’t you act like it?” And then just like that, he was back to being quiet, still staring at her and becoming breathless at the sight of her moving backwards, but saying nothing at all. She didn’t doubt for a second that he was struggling. She didn’t doubt that his months away had been treacherous and difficult and maybe he didn’t deserve her angry words fully. But this wasn’t about what he deserved, it was about what she deserved. She shook her head, disappointed by his actions, or lack thereof, once again, and then turned on her heel. “Don’t leave.” He called as she walked away. “If you have nothing to say then nor do I.” She heard his desperate footsteps to follow her, before she felt him tug at her arm, pulling her back around to face him, his cheeks bright red, and she could feel him shaking. “I SAID DON’T LEAVE!” He growled. “GIVE ME A GOOD REASON NOT TO!” She seethed right back at him. “I’M FUCKING ASHAMED, EVE!” Her face finally dropped, eyes wide as she gazed up to him, their faces only inches apart. “LOOK AT ME! I’M HOME AND I HAVE… NOTHING TO SHOW FOR WHAT I’VE JUST BEEN THROUGH! We… We lost!” “You didn’t lose. You’re home! You’re alive!” “That’s not enough!” He shrieked. “Evelyn, you don’t understand what it was like out there! It’s not just… the things I saw and what happened, it’s… some of the things that I did. Who I… was, and how I acted… I couldn’t… I couldn’t face you because a part of me feels like I’m not the person you remember anymore. I’m so ashamed of what happened there, and… I’m still trying to process things and-” He dropped his head, throat bulbous, and he was crying. She’d never seen him like that before. She knew him, through and through. She’d spoken to him and shared with him about trying times, and yet she’d never seen him cry. It had never been in his nature. He’d been the man of the house basically his entire life, and he’d taken the role seriously. He was stronger than he realised. So she was in a state of shock, seeing him that way. Seeing him just break, and be so vulnerable. Seeing the way he rushed to wipe those tears away, and how he was still trying to deny his sorrow. He was hurting. “I thought about you all the time.” He continued, looking back into her eyes, and she tried to see past his tears and just look right back. “I so wanted to… come home, and be with you, but then actually seeing you… I feel like I let everyone down. I feel like I let myself down and I let you down and… I don’t know how to deal with this. I saw you and… I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t… I thought you would be disappointed in me.” “Why would I ever feel that way?” She cried, reaching upwards and grasping at his cheek. “How can you not feel that way?” “I don’t care, Alex! I just wanted you home! And now you are and we can… do what we planned and we can-” “The wars not over, Eve.” He shook his head, tears now making their calm journey down his cheeks, warm as they curved over Evelyn’s gentle touch. “We only have so long before… I’m called out again. I’m not home forever.” “But you’re home for now! And I don’t want to lose this opportunity whilst it’s here. Please…” He nodded, his tears falling a little quicker, his heart aching. He could barely remember the confidence he had before he left, the strange sense of excitement over fighting for his country and proving himself. It seemed so unrecognizable now. So foreign and naive and stupid. He sobbed a little harder before he managed to speak. “I missed you so much.” He blubbered. “Sometimes… it was like I could see you there, and…” She moved her hand to feel through his short hair, pushing him forward somewhat so that his forehead met hers, breathing him in, her anger completely annihilated and replaced by this utter need to care for him, to soothe him as much as she could. Hesitantly, he moved his lips forward, the pink flesh soon landing against hers, tears still falling from his bloodshot eyes as he placed his trembling hands upon her neck, and kissed her fully. He'd had such a brief and beautiful taste of her before he left, and he’d forgotten the feeling her lips introduced to his entire body. And it had augmented, thanks to his experiences on the beaches of Dunkirk. The feeling was now more extreme, frightening but calming, elusive but overwhelming. “I missed you.” He spoke desperately to her mouth. “I love you.” He became lost in her, which was exactly what he wanted. That kiss was the very first thing that took him away from battle, and suddenly all that existed was her, and him, and the gorgeous feelings that vacillated down his spine and caused his heart to thunder. His hands searched down the girl he loved, soon gripping at her waist and hoisting her body upwards. She hovered that way briefly, before wrapping her legs around his waist, hands gripping onto his hair, moaning lightly against his tongue. The wind picked up, but neither of them noticed. It moved around them, tangling through their hair and stroking over their skin, but the gales were barely acknowledged by the two of them. Because they finally had each other, and for the first time in their lives, and for a few brief moments, there was absolutely nothing else. - I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity. - The bedsheets were light upon their naked bodies, Evelyn’s hand resting upon Alex’s chest as she lay at his side, gazing to him in wonder as he stared up to the ceiling. He had one hand wedged beneath his head and pillow, the other down at his side; his fingers stroking over her bare stomach and continuously creating shudders and shakes that made her feel sick at the same time as feeling perfect. She looked over their heads briefly before gazing at him once again. “Sun’s coming up.” She whispered. “I should probably go soon.” “Stay a little while longer.” He turned his head to her. “I don’t really want this night to end.” “I don’t either.” She smiled. “That was perfect. Thank you.” “I don’t know why I’m asking this, because I’m not sure I want to hear the answer…” He smiled. “But… am I your first?” She nodded shyly, her cheeks the brightest shade of pink that he had ever seen, his smile growing even more. “Am I yours?” She returned. “You are.” He cooed. “I always… sort of wanted to wait until I was married, but… if it’s going to be anyone, it’s going to be you.” “If?” He turned on his side, reaching his hand upwards and stroking his thumb beneath her eye, and when he stared at her like that she felt totally naked, in different ways to how she actually was. He saw her exactly how she was, like he could search within her soul and bury himself there. “What if I don’t come home next time?” He mumbled. “I went through… so much out there, and that was… me getting lucky! I’m scared that… the next time I get called out… that might be it.” The deluded assurance that Alex had before Dunkirk was nowhere to be seen. All that was left, was a frightened young boy who felt as though death was looming over his shoulder, its breath fluttering the hairs at the back of his neck and causing his skin to prick upwards. Everything had changed. Evelyn had found it hard to stomach his confidence before he left, but this was even worse. She was lost for words. “I’m gunna keep fighting,” He tried to reassure. “And I’m gunna do everything I can to… get home to you, and… marry you. Give you the future you deserve.” “You have to keep fighting.” She stroked her thumb across his bottom lip. “You have to do what you need to do to get home.” “I’m just… scared. I’m so scared.” She nodded, understanding his fear, and there was no point disputing it or trying to convince him that everything would be okay, because neither of them had a definite answer. Neither of them felt confident about him leaving. They didn’t even know how long the war would last. It could go on for years. “How long do you think you’ll be home for?” “Maybe a few weeks. I’m not sure. But we’ll make the most of it.” “Don’t turn away from me again, please. I know you’re scared, but-” “I won’t. M’yours now, until the second I leave. I promise.” He leaned inwards and kissed her again, cupping her jaw and moving his lips with hers. Alex felt amazing being back with her. He hadn’t known how to process seeing her again when he got off that train, but he was so thankful she’d appeared at his window and forced him to face her. He felt so broken being home, so beaten and low, and it turned out she was the only thing that could help him to feel better. She made being home feel like a good thing, rather than a defeat. His wide smile interrupted their tender moment, breaking their kiss apart delightfully, and she giggled appreciatively. “I missed you.” Evelyn told him sweetly. “I missed you so much.” He hushed, unable to diminish him smile. “S’been strange round here without you.” She told him, nuzzling her nose against his. “Not… It’s not really felt like home.” “Has Richard been home?” He queried. A part of Evelyn had just predicted that they’d have been through the war together, in the way that Richard and Alex had been through everything together. She distanced from him a little, struggling to grip at the implications of his question. “What?” She trembled. “I dunno where he was sent.” Alex continued, unaware. “I was wondering if he’s had any time home yet. Is he home now?” There was a small part of him that figured out what she was going to say before she managed to say it. He could see it, watch the words tremble upon her lips before they formed into coherent noises. He heard the shattering sound of the news before it was broken to him. He knew. “Alex…” She stroked her fingers affectionately down the side of his neck. “Ri… Richard is dead.” His brows creased to the centre, and all he could do in that moment was reject the information she’d given him. His automatic reaction was to fight the news, convince himself that she was lying. He had worried about Richard, because he was not the type who could ever be prepared for war. The only reason he’d volunteered, was so that he was at Alex’s side, supporting his best friend as he tried to do his late father, and his country proud. That was the only reason he’d put his name forward, and the simple fact that he’d be called to fight regardless. Alex had thought he was ready for war, until he was experiencing it. Richard had always known that he wasn’t. “No.” He rejected. “Eve, no.” “I’m sorry.” She moved closer, so that her lips grazed his. “I’m so sorry, Alex, but… it’s true, he died, I’m sorry!” “But… I would… He didn’t… He can’t be-” It was only when he saw tears rolling down her cheeks that he found himself believing it. He could see how much it was hurting her, having to tell him, and that was how he grew to accept that he’d lost his oldest friend. It pained him, that he had to learn that way. He had been completely and blissfully unaware of the death until that very moment. He should have known. He should have been one of the first to know. For a moment, before he could be upset, he was merely angry. He hated the fucking war. He hated everything that it had brought, other than it being the final force that had placed him in the arms of the girl he loved. “They lay flowers outside his house.” She whispered. “It was beautiful, Alex. We said goodbye in the only way we could.” “Flowers?” He questioned, trying to restrain the tears in his eyes. “It’s something we do.” She sighed, her fingers tangling in his hair. “When we hear about deaths… everyone around the village will lay flowers outside their homes. I… I walked the long way to work every day… just so I could… make sure there were no flowers here.” He stared at her grief-stricken face, and all he knew was that he wanted to make sure she never had to walk past and see flowers outside his home. He would fight with everything he had left in him, to ensure that his house would remain bare, and he wouldn’t have to break her heart in such fashion. He was scared and unsure about returning to his duties, undoubtedly lacking faith, but he would do everything within his immediate power to stay alive, and get home. He knew that beforehand; though doubts had drowned him and pulled his assurance to the depths of the ocean, he had always known he would fight to get back to her. But with the mental image in his mind, of Evelyn walking to work one day and seeing those flowers marking his death, those susceptible wishes were stimulated further. He couldn’t put her through that. “We’ve lost so many people.” She whispered. “We can’t lose each other.” He returned. “I can’t let that happen.” She snuggled further into his snare, ignoring the morning that got brighter with each passing second, aware that she’d have to sneak from his home before his mother and her father greeted the new day, and for a while, they simply pretended that their existence was theirs. They needn’t fear the outside world and the danger it flourished with patriotic pride. They took that feeling that appeared when they were together, and forced themselves to focus on nothing else. They continued that way, for only a fortnight. Two short, idyllic weeks, where they loved one another freely. There would be the occasional moment where the two of them forgot about the war completely, but those moments never lasted. They were always brief, but blissful, beautiful. There were times where Alex was lucky enough to feel like a young boy again, flirting innocently with Eve in her father’s shop, watching her blush and kissing the back of her hand. They spent most evenings together down by the river, where he always managed to feel calm and safe. They made love to one another, sneaking from one house to the next in the middle of the night, and her kiss was forever coaxing and beautiful, a blessing upon his pink lips. Those two weeks, were everything he had ever wanted, and everything he hoped for in his future. But then once again, he had to return to the train that took him back to the terror and turmoil of combat. He had finally been able to kiss her over the fence at the station, holding onto the back of her neck and praying that he wouldn’t have to leave, that some kind of announcement would made in that very second his skin began to slip from hers. But there were battles to be fought in the Middle East, and it was his duty to fight them. He whispered that he loved her one final time, knowing that the only thing stopping her from returning those words of love were the tears the journeyed down her cheeks and forced her throat to knot, and he finally found the strength to distance from her. Reluctantly, and with tears in his eyes, he boarded the train.

[all-sortsa-stuff]

The swing of your hips

Prompt from @ididntasktogetmadedidi : The reader is an actress working on the set with Tom for the new movie and the director keeps getting annoyed because she naturally sways her hips a lot. Tom decides to help out, because god damn those hips of hers and what they do to him.

 Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2512

Warning: Smut, language

 You slammed the door of your apartment.  It was late and you had just had a long “discussion” with Tom about the status of… well whatever the hell this was.  He did not want to pursue a relationship with you even though there was definite chemistry between you.  The excuse was “it is too difficult to maintain a work relationship with a romantic one.  Perhaps when we aren’t working together.”

If that was how he wanted it, fine.  You would maintain a strictly professional relationship with him while filming.  After filming you would go on to your next project and not have to deal with seeing him every bloody day.  If you were not good enough for him to be with now, then he did not deserve to have you anytime.  That was the thought you went to sleep with that night.  Though your heart was still hurting.

 Getting ready the next morning for the early call, you tried to keep your positive attitude.  With coffee in hand, you walked towards your trailer determined to smile and greet every person who crossed your path.  Even Tom, as he stood talking to one of the producers.  They both looked up as you walked by; you shared that determined smirk with them.  “Good morning boys.  Lovely day isn’t it?”

Tom nodded his head in your direction looking as though he was trying to gauge your mood.  Expecting to see a sad, emotional woman, he got quite the opposite.  You looked bright and happy wearing a pair of jeans that hugged your curves in all the right places.  When you were younger having curvy hips and ass had been somewhat of a problem for you. It had been one of your insecurities. However, since becoming an actor you embraced it.  Especially now when Tom could not take his eyes off your hips as you walked by.  Putting an extra swing in your step, you winked at him over your shoulder as you passed by.  He huffed a moment, before shaking his head and returning to the conversation.

Preparing for your morning call, you reread your lines ensuring you had everything memorized as your hair was being done. Stepping out of the trailer in your costume, you made your way towards the set.  Half way there, Tom had caught up with you whispering in your ear.  “What are you playing at?  I thought we had settled things.”

Settled things? Really? Idiot…  “I am not playing at anything.  You don’t want a relationship with me.  So I am going about my life and my job.  What, did you expect me to do?  Sit home, crying?  Sorry Hiddleston, that ain’t me.”  You left him to stare at you as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on.  The rest of the morning passed quickly with the cast and crew finishing two important scenes without an issue.  Both you and Tom were complete professionals acting as though nothing was bothering you.  Though you could tell, he was having difficulty maintaining his composure between scenes.  Before the previous night’s “discussion”, you would spend time together during breaks, running lines, eating and just enjoying the other’s company.

Today that did not happen. You went back to your trailer a few times; made sure your makeup and hair were perfect and even ate at one of the tables by yourself as you played on your phone.  On the outside to everyone, you looked perfectly fine.  On the inside, you missed being around Tom terribly, but this is what he wanted.

Tom was not faring any better.  He did not think in his attempt to keep a professional manner with you that it would also entail losing any personal contact.  Not hearing your laugh at one of his lame jokes or you stealing a piece of his lunch caused an ache in his chest that he was not enjoying.  Perhaps he had been hasty in his decision to distance himself from you.  So many times in the past, relationships started on set had come back to bite him hard on the ass.  Now the only thing he wanted to do was the same thing to you.  

 Twice during the break for lunch, you had caught Tom staring at you.  You would smile sweetly at him and go back to doing whatever you were doing. It was driving him crazy.  The afternoon scenes did not follow the same trend at the morning.  Several times the director had to stop the scene to tell you to stop swaying your hips. In the scene your character was supposed to be devastated over the loss of her sister and Tom’s character was supposed to be comforting you.  But whenever you walked away, your hips would swing portraying something completely different than what the scene required.

Tom would rub his face after the scene was stopped and the director by the third time was growing aggravated.  You apologized profusely and promised it would not happen again.  Somehow, you were able to finish the afternoon without his head exploding.  Though perhaps just barely.  Leaving the set as quickly as possible, you wanted to get home to have a glass of wine before you irritated anyone else.  The director sat in his chair replaying parts of the scenes to decide if they would need to be reshot the next day.  As Tom walked by, he grabbed his arm lightly.

“Tom, man talk to [Y/N]. She needs to tone it down so we can get this finished.  I don’t have the time to keep stopping because she doesn’t know she is doing it. She needs to focus.”  Tom agreed, telling him he would talk to you this evening.

 You were leaning back on the couch with a glass of white wine in hand.  Staring up at the ceiling now for a good thirty minutes, you replayed the day in your mind.  Tomorrow you would have to do better before they remove you completely from the film. A knock on the front door pulled you from your thoughts.  Glass in hand you looked through the peephole seeing Tom there.  You sighed loudly before opening the door.  “I know, I will try harder tomorrow.  You could have just texted me instead of driving all the way over here.”

Tom frowned looking down at you.  “I’d rather tell you in person.  You are supposed to focus and tone it down, I believe it what he said.”

Rolling your eye you leaned your head against the door.  “Yes. I will focus and tone it down. Happy?”

“Not really.  Can I come in?”  He actually wanted to come in?  What for?  Groaning internally, you stepped back allowing him to move past you.  Closing the door quietly you turned back towards him.  Completely not expecting to be pushed up against the door with a heated kiss.  The glass in your hand fell to the floor, forgotten for the moment.  “I wanted to forget this, forget what is building here. But you won’t let me.”

He kissed you again, his tongue pushing and playing against yours.  His body pressing further against you.  It felt like there was no air to breathe but him.  Your arms slid around his neck as you leaned against his chest.  “Those damn hips of yours, I swear to God I am going to leave my mark all over them.” The threat caused a shiver to run down your spine.  You had to pull back and push him away from you, walking past him.  Your fingers on your lips, feeling the burning heat he had caused.

“You came here to what? Fuck me then go back to ‘just professional’?  As much as I want you, and oh my God do I want you, I don’t sleep around.  It isn’t worth the heart ache.”  The pounding of your heart made it hard to breath, as the throbbing between your legs made it hard to think.

“You think I came here for just a roll in the sack?  I cannot bloody stop thinking about you.  Do you know how frustrating that is?”  

Rolling your eyes again, you crossed your arms over your chest.  ‘Oh no I have no clue what that’s like.’ You thought, sarcastically to yourself.

“And if you actually think I would let anyone else touch you in the way I plan on touching you, you have gone mad.  You are mine.”  That was it, you were lost.  Two steps was all it took and you were in his arms again, kissing as though your lives depended on it.  “Where is your bed?”

You giggled as he nipped down your neck.  “Second door after the kitchen.”  Tom picked you up, threw you over his shoulder before walking towards the bedroom. You squealed your delight as he slapped your ass once to calm you.  Of course it did not work.

“Quiet it before I have to do something drastic.”  Laughing this time, he threw you down onto the bed.

“I think I like drastic.” Tom smirked as he laid beside you on the bed.  Kissing you deeply and running his hand over your hip.  It was not long before your clothes were strewn about the room.  He still had his clothes on which was starting to frustrate you.  You wanted to feel his bare skin against yours.  Pulling his shirt over his head took little time but as you tried to remove his pants, he stopped you. “Oh no darling that is as far as you get for now. Until I get what I want.”  He pinned one of your hands to the bed as he traveled down lower.  Stealing a kiss from your lips before running his warm wet tongue down your neck.  

He nipped at your collarbone leaving a pink mark before traveling down to your breasts.  The torture he inflicted there had you swearing all sorts of colorful words at him.  He teased first with his tongue, letting it swirl around lightly before taking the nipple into his mouth.  Sucking gently before increasing the pressure to bring all the blood and color to it. Then he bit lightly causing you to moan. He repeated that on the other breast while still pinning your one arm down.  Your free hand ran through his thick hair, he was going to make you cum just from that if he continued.

After finishing his fun with your breasts his mouth traveled even lower.  Tom let go of your hand to grip your hips with a bruising force. His fingers dug into your skin and you could not wait to see the marks in the mirror in the morning.  He sucked and bit, leaving dark marks over each hip ensuring the it would be days before they faded away.  “You don’t know the thoughts I’ve had of these being wrapped around me.  Of marking them and fucking you into oblivion.”

“Just do it, all of it. Don’t stop.”  You words were breathless as you pressed your hips against his face.  Tom laughed a low, dark laugh.  The sound was pure sex in itself.  Pushing your thighs wide, he gave one last bite to your inner thigh before concentrating on more sensitive places.  That evil tongue of his circled your clit in a way, forcing you to call out his name as your hips pressed against his mouth.  He smiled increasing the pace and the pressure, eliciting more of the sounds that were causing his cock to harden into steel in his jeans.  Enough so that he had to unbutton them, and pull it free before he caused himself pain.

That only took a moment before he went back to teasing you to no end.  He slipped one finger into your pussy feeling just how wet you had become for him.  “Oh darling so ready for me.”  Sitting back, he grabbed your hips again to turn you over.  It happened so quickly and you were prepared to let him do anything he pleased.  Tom pulled your ass high into the air as he pressed your head down against the bed.  One thumb went to rub over your clit as his tongue slipped into your pussy, moving in a circle tasting you.  “You taste so sweet.  So very sweet.”

All the movement and the words, the sensations were getting to be too much.  You were not going to be able to last for much longer.  “Tom… fuck… I’m going too…”

“Shhh, just feel it.” His thumb had picked up pace, as his tongue went deep.  The feeling started to build deep in your belly until it reached that point of no return. You screamed out his name as your body shook against him.  He grinned wickedly a moment before sitting up and moving behind you, slamming his cock deep inside you as you came.

“Fuck Tom…”  You could feel his jeans brushing against your thighs as he moved within you.  Oh, the sight it must be, his naked ass, with his jeans pushed down enough so he could fuck you.  What had you gotten yourself into?  Whatever it was, you were so glad you did.

Gripping your hips tight, he slide himself in and out of you.  Thrusting at a pace that would probably have you screaming again in the not far future.  “[Y/N], how is it… you feel so damned   good?”  You pushed back against him wanting to feel every bit of him.  For that, you were rewarded with a slap to one of your ass cheeks. The handprint now flaming on your ass stung but it only turned you on further.  When you pushed again another slap to the other cheek.  “I told you I would mark you all over.”  

Tom had bent low to growl into your ear.  Then he bit hard onto your shoulder causing you to cry out.  “That’s my girl.” A lot of makeup would be necessary to cover that mark tomorrow.  His thrusts quickened as one hand returned to grip your hip.  The other slipped into your hair to grab a handful, pulling you back further onto his cock.  Damn the man, he knew how to drive you crazy.  It would not be long now.

You gripped the sheets of the bed as you arched your back letting him slide as deep as he could.  That wonderful sensation building again, though far quicker this time until you screamed out, shuddering against him.  Tom was not far behind as your release fueled his own, especially feeling your wetness trickle down between your cheeks.

“Fuck, [Y/N]… Yes…” He groaned, his thrusts slowing but harder, wanting to draw out the feeling inside you as long as he could.  When he had finished, both of you fell onto the bed, breathing hard.  

“Yeah… I am yours. Sure as hell not letting you go after that.”  Tom grinned with a half an attempt at a laugh.  You lifted your head to look at the half-naked man on your bed.  Fuck, it really was sexy as hell, with his ass hanging out of his jeans.  

tags:  @feelmyroarrrr  @bolontiku  @aquabrie   @malindacath  @ex-bookjunky @frenchfrostpudding  @ididntasktogetmadedidi