1 - 20 of 38 Works by ForbiddenToast
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For all the apologising he does at work, he never apologises to Samira there. There he only talks to her with the tone of a red editing marker, occasionally encouraging, but mostly corrective.
However in her apartment, apologies seem to be the only thing Robby can talk in.
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It’s all red lips smiling over a cocktail glass, a shimmery dress and dark curls loose around shoulders. So not-work appropriate that it has Jack staring for a second too long, brain shutting down for a moment because here, in a so not-work environment he allows himself to.
(or: Jack Abbot's afterparty experiences over the course of a year.)
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“What else you got in your go-bag?” She found herself asking in awe. It hadn’t been a medically relevant question – not really. Not a learning opportunity, not something that would help the patient, just curiosity. Perhaps it started then; the itch to know what made Jack Abbot tick, to know what he deems essential. To know what he wants within arms reach at any given moment.
(Or: the evolution of Doctor Mohan's go-bag after Pittfest.)
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None of this is useful. The military has no need for him to slather cream onto his scars, cradle cups of tea or trace the strong line of Johnny's jaw. That's not what they pay his hands to do.
And yet his hands do it anyway, just to feel the warmth of Johnny's smile seep into his palm.
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Kate never really lets go of the overpass.
She still feels cool concrete and metal biting into her palms when the weather turns. It starts with a low rumble of pain in her thigh that will turn lightning-sharp up the length of the scar that lives there, if she’s not careful.
(or: a collection of things Kate holds onto throughout the film. Some are better than others.)
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He blames the sun. He blames the orange, fruity cocktails. He blames the fact that he’s somehow having a honeymoon period twenty years into a relationship, but everything feels so, so, so romantic here.
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By this point Pete would consider himself an expert in leaps of faith.
Some leaps pan out, like Fall Out Boy did for example. Other leaps don't, like Fall Out Boy didn't.
(or: while making Where Did The Party Go, Pete finds himself falling back into Patrick. So much for learning from experience.)
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Pete loves like a dog. Disruptive and brutal - he'll ruin your white picket fence if you're not careful.
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Lara should be focused on getting back in undetected, should be worrying about cleaning the pistol so it won't jam.
She should be focusing on getting Jonah back. Not worrying about how he could already be another name etched onto the ever-growing list of people she's killed.
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Snapshots of Pete's relationship with time (among other things) evolving throughout the years. Featuring Transformers, St. Anger by Metallica, Keanu Reeves and an alarming amount of bread.
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When Pete falls in love, it's a freefall. It's that big, ultra, all-consuming kind of love you can't look away from.
It's the kind of love Patrick loves.
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If he didn’t know any better, Patrick would say Pete looks almost peaceful here, curled up in the dark with his eyes closed.
But Patrick does know better. So he climbs into the bath next to him, left foot first.
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Patrick has done enough armchair diagnosing with Google to know he's slipped past traumatised and straight to crazy when he feels sensation in a limb that isn't there and sees ghosts around the apartment.
(Or: after surviving the events of Miss Missing You, Patrick copes. Badly.)
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Sometimes - and it is only sometimes - Ianto Jones takes a notion of silence.
Considering his job with the running (so much running), the shouting (so much shouting) and the sonic, radio and God-knows-what-else waves Tosh tries to explain to him, it’s not exactly ideal. Torchwood is not the environment for silence. Or notions. You’re either all in, or you’re not at Torchwood.
Ianto learnt that at Torchwood One.
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It starts with Pete buying a photo album. It’s leather bound, heavy, and does nothing but take up space on their already full bookshelf.
Patrick doesn’t think about it much at first.
(This in hindsight is a rookie mistake.)
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Sometimes Gwen thinks she hates Jack Harkness.
Wait, no. That’s not right – that implies she thinks about him and what happened enough to be a ‘sometimes’, and that is just not true. She goes days, weeks and sometimes the odd month without thinking about Jack these days. Until something reminds her.
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Sometimes they talk in hypotheticals. Sometimes it's easier that way.
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The spoken word has always eluded him. Words are so much easier when constricted to twenty-six letters that he can manipulate and twist into saying exactly what he needs them to. Speaking is too vague, with too many variables and often relies on Pete understanding exactly what he needs to say. Hence why the spoken word (or in this case, sung) word became Patrick’s domain in the band. He’s the Pete-translator.
(Or: Pete finds a new hobby and overthinks a relationship or two.)
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On a coffee table in a therapist’s waiting room somewhere in Illinois is where he finds it; a thirty-five page magazine filled with not-so-helpful advice on how to paint your hallway a welcoming colour, how too many pillows spoil the décor of an entire room and how the ‘Cacti Craze’ is killing gardening stores’ business.
It's mind-numbingly boring, and Pete's just about to put it back when he sees the article on page thirty-three:
How Your Home Reflects You
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He knows they can’t stay forever, that they have a show in four days and then it’s off to England to do it all over again…but part of him wants to hang onto this. The surety that comes with hiding in a hotel room with his boyfriend at 10am and just simply existing.
There’s nobody to judge him here, no expectation to be Perfect Patrick or face the world.