#I think it was everything get back tried and failed to be

[beautifulmadnesss]

"I Don't Ever Wanna Know What it Feels Like to Be a Shadow of Myself" Garrick Tavis x Riorson!Reader

Summary: Xaden's sister doesn't like Violet until they are both captured and interrogated by Varrish.

A/N: This has become a mini series, but can also be read as a standalone.

Part 1 Part 2

Also 5.5k and lots of angst. Hope you enjoy!

Violet had apparently been researching how to raise the wards in Aretia and now we were making plans to break into the Archives. It was completely insane and had far more chance of failing than success. Everyone else seemed to think this was completely fine.

I could tell Xaden was at least a little reluctant. He trusted Violet, but not Aaric, who was vital to Violet’s plan and apparently actually the prince in disguise. I agreed with him, at least on the latter. I still wasn't confident that Violet was going to keep our secret, especially after she told her entire squad, which was far too many people who knew. She could’ve gone to her mom last year after Resson, but she was also the reason we were even there in the first place. 

"There are so many things that can go wrong with this plan. She really doesn't have any clue where the journal is, what it looks like, or what protections are around it. We are risking everything for this plan just on her word" I have really tried to like her, but every time I looked at her I see not only the striking resemblance to the woman who spent hours carving into my brothers back, but also the reminder that it was her inability to control her mind that got Liam killed. No matter how many times Xaden said it wasn't her fault that doesn’t change the fact that  if he never told her about the supply drops, then Liam would still be here. I couldn’t understand how he could possibly trust her after everything. I wanted him to see the version of her I saw. I knew it was wrong and I honestly knew it wasn't going to work, but I pushed anyway. Using my second signet I tried to force the thought of distrust into his head. The impact was almost immediate, his shields slammed up so hard I physically stumbled. He was expecting it, damn his signet. 

"Knock it the fuck off." He growled, rounding on me and towering over me. Bodhi was the only other person that knew the double meaning behind that and he glanced between us anxiously. We’ve been at each other’s throats constantly and I knew it was frustrating for him. "This is Violet's plan and it's the best we have, so shut up and do what you're told." His condescending tone set my teeth on edge and made me feel like a scolded child. Fire sparked momentarily in my hands before Bodhi cut it off, stepping between us. 

"You're both right. It's not without its risks. We all decide if we want to do this. Anyone who doesn't want to go down there and risk dying can stay. Even if we do this and we get out, if someone catches us we're dead." Violet spoke up, unease filling her tone. I have to at least give her credit, she was far more humble than anyone else in this room. 

"I'm in," her best friend, Rhiannon said first.

"Oh you know I'm in!" Ridoc agreed as well. 

"We stick together." Sawyer added. One by one everyone affirmed their decision to go for these journals that were the key to our survival. 

"I'll follow you anywhere." Xaden declared before immediately turning his gaze to me expectantly. Last time he was here on leave, after RSC, he was soft and gentle. For the first time since reuniting I felt like his little sister again, just like I had imagined it would be like being together again after five years. He saw Violet on the parapet before I made it across and she had changed him. I later learned about the deal he made with her mother, Violet’s safety in exchange for our chance to redeem ourselves in the Rider’s Quadrant, but that didn’t stop me from hating her. He had to keep her safe or we were all dead, but sometimes it felt like him taking care of her had replaced how he used to take care of me when we were kids. I didn’t really need him to, but after being on my own for years feeling like an outsider and always being on guard, I craved the safety of my big brother. Growing up it was always the four of us. We had our own little club that we didn't let anyone into, except Liam when he was around. I was strong and important, but then Violet came in and changed everything. It was stupid and childish that I was jealous of her, especially considering I was now dating Xaden's best friend and he was definitely still pissed about that. He was getting tired of how I constantly challenged her and it had put more than a little distance between us, something I hated more than anything. Not to mention the additional danger she was posing for both of them this year by constantly pushing against Varrish. The most infuriating part was that I still had to help protect her, because no matter how much I hated her, if she dies, he dies. 

"Fine." It was the best I could offer. I could see in Xaden's face it wasn't enough, but he didn't say anything. 

Violet and Jesinia made a plan of what roles we each played and that was when my little resolve I had to keep a lid on my emotions broke. 

"I'm on guard duty with babysitters? I can help and you know it." The demand was directed more at Xaden. The look he leveled at me told me how much he just wished I would go along with the plan as if he was the most agreeable person on the continent.

"I'm not letting you screw everything up by setting fire to the Archives." He was slightly taller than Bodhi, so he was able to glare at me over his shoulder. 

"And you said my brother was the asshole." Aaric chimed in. 

"Perhaps they aren't all that different." I didn't mean it, not really, but I said it before I could stop myself. 

"Either shut fuck up or go back to your room. You're acting like a child and I don't have time for it. Violet is the one who is actually helping us accomplish the mission so she makes the plan." He towered over me, shadows swirling around my legs and his voice seething with anger that matched my own. The assertion that the daughter of our enemy was doing more to help my home than I was sent me over the edge. 

"I fucking hate you." I had never said those words to Xaden other than during stupid sibling spats. We didn't fight like this, but the pressure over following in our dad's footsteps and the tension between us was too much. We didn’t really get the opportunity to talk about everything that happened and now all of his leave time was spent with Violet. 

Bodhi pushed me back, trying to put distance between us. "We have to go now. You two need to cool it." It was silent for a minute until Violet continued with the final assignments as her friend Jesinia handed out Scribe robes to all of us. My rage continued to simmer as I silently dressed in the robes I was given. 

I didn't speak again until after Bodhi, Ridoc, and I had taken our position as guards. 

"So, the whole brooding anger and insanely hot physique is a family trait?" Ridoc inquired, breaking the silence with his usual brand of humor. 

"Did you always plan to be Violet's court jester or did you have higher aspirations?" I shot back. 

"I'm going to take that as a yes." He replied with a chuckle. 

"You two should really talk." Bodhi interrupted before I could reply to Ridoc. He was looking at me imploringly and I know the constant tension between Xaden and I had drained him.

"He's too busy with Violet and he probably doesn't want to talk anyways." I also didn’t want to talk because I was tired of the fighting too. I was scared and stressed and exhausted, but it felt like all of my emotions funneled into anger. 

"No, he does but you're both so damn stubborn that you're just going to keep tearing each other down. I'm tired of it. We are at fucking war and we could all die at any minute. We almost did. Liam did. So the both of you need to stop being idiots and start acting like you're a family." He couldn't yell, since that would defeat the whole point of a secret mission, but I heard him loud and clear. “You should give Violet a chance. She is going to be around no matter what, so you might as well find some way to give her the opportunity to show you she isn’t her mom. Resson wasn’t her fault either.” 

"Okay, I'll talk to him tomorrow before he leaves." I could see it wasn't enough for Bodhi. "You're right, okay. I'll talk to him, I promise." 

"Who doesn't love a happy ending?" Ridoc chimed in, successfully made both Bodhi and I laugh. 

"I could use a happy ending right about now." I sighed. 

"Gross." Bodhi fake gagged.

"After we get out of here, you are more than welcome to join me in my room." Ridoc smirked over at me. 

"Sorry, you're not my type." 

"Because I'm not a brick wall of tattooed muscle or is your type limited to one specific man who isn't here."

"Both." I replied, returning his smile. I did really miss Garrick. The letters weren't the same and I couldn't even tell him half the things I wanted to. Most of his letters to me came with more black lines than words. The separation from him only made the feeling of isolation even worse, especially while I was fighting with Xaden.

"Well you're both gross and we're almost out of time, so get ready." Bodhi's remark got us all to stand at attention. Our silence was tense as we all stood, waiting for them to come out. The bells began to toll and there was still no sign. “I’m sure they’re fine.” His voice lacked any of the reassurance he was trying to convey. 

“Fuck, they’re not going to make it.” Ridoc said, just before they all came barreling out. 

“Everyone to your places, now.” Xaden commanded, cutting off any questions we wanted to ask. Our talk was going to have to wait a bit longer.

After the small detour to be seen in the commons with Ridoc and Bodhi, I quickly backtracked to catch up to Violet and Xaden. The entire way back I was trying to come up with a sufficient apology, but none sounded right. I knew the best real way to show him I was sorry was to make more of an effort with Violet. I don't really trust her and I don't even really like her, but I also hadn't tried to do anything other than find reasons to hate her. 

My heart sank when I saw her alone. "He left?" There was no hiding the disappointment in my voice. 

"Yeah, he has to get the journal back for Brennan to translate." She said cautiously. I could tell she didn’t really want to be alone with me, she even seemed a little scared. I really have a lot of making up to do. 

"Oh, right. We should go then." I turned to walk back to the dorms with her when a voice interrupted us. 

"Violet?" It was Nolan, her mender friend, but I only slightly relaxed, still keeping my hand near my dagger. She may know him well enough to trust him, but I didn't. 

She greeted him warmly and I could only hope he didn't hear the nerves dancing at the edge of her tone. 

"Cadet Riorson," I gave a polite nod. "I know you've been under a lot of stress lately so I brought this for you." Normally, my total distrust of anyone in leadership here would keep me from drinking with Violet, but given what was sitting in her bag I decided it was best not to push it. We had to be as discreet as possible and get out of here quickly. I took the mug from Nolan and drank, feeling surprisingly comforted by the feel of the warm liquid. 

"I hardly ever see you apart from Lieutenant Riorson on Saturdays. Where is he?" Something about his tone caused me to glance at him suspiciously. Then when Jack Barlow and his friends appeared, I stepped closer to Violet. He may have just saved her life, but there was no way he didn't hate her. He was probably plotting her death and while I hadn’t warmed up to her yet, I wasn’t letting that happen. 

"Is everything alright? Nolan asked her, his eyes also following Jack as he crossed into the opposite wing. 

"It's fine." She replied, taking another sip of her drink and I followed. When I moved the cup down I saw her staring into the mug with her brows knitted in confusion. 

"Violet?" I questioned wearily, but I felt it too. Fuck. Nolan was staring at her bag. He knew. I didn’t have any time to think, I just reacted, forcing my breathing to slow and mentally reaching for the man in front of me. 

Revealing my second signet to anyone was likely a death sentence, but if we didn't get out of this we were dead anyways, so I had to try. I concentrated hard, focusing on the vision of him walking away and back to the Healers Quadrant. I stumbled slightly as my balance gave. He was talking to Violet, but his voice was hazy, so I couldn’t really hear him. I pushed harder and his words cut off, his attention turning to me. Fuck, this was it. He knows and now there's no going back. The connection into his mind swam in and out of focus. I reached, trying to pull more power from my dragon, but the thread snapped. I was cut off. I stumbled again, but this time my legs gave out and it was all I could do to throw my arm out to keep my head from hitting the stone. 

The pain in my head was overwhelming and the very first thing I became aware of when I woke up. Maybe it was whatever they drugged us with or from pushing myself too hard trying to stop Nolan. I tried reaching out to my dragon and felt the empty response, which means no fire and no mind manipulation. Several voices come into focus and my body immediately jolts to attention at the sound of the two most identifiable, Violet and Varrish. 

I opened my eyes and immediately noticed I was bound to a chair directly across from Violet who thankfully looked mostly unharmed. The room around us filled me with dread. Blood was caked on the walls and floor. We were unarmed and bound in a torture chamber. This wasn’t like RSC, this was a torture chamber built for real world interrogations. 

Mallory. The memory of RSC and the vicious murder of my squadmate slammed into the forefront of my mind. I forced myself to push it down before the panic became overwhelming. If I dwelled on it now Violet would meet the same fate and I was not letting that happen. 

"Glad to have you join us Cadet Riorson." Varrish sneers at me. 

"Fuck you." I spit at him, but this time he doesn't go for me. It's Violet he backhands at full force. I grit my teeth. I can't do anything, but watch. If he knows it's getting to me, he's going to keep pushing. This is one hell of a way for Violet and I to mend our relationship. 

"One of you will tell me how you got this journal and who it was that helped you. I have an entire week to get it out of you and I will do so by any means necessary." He moved behind her so that I had a completely unobstructed view as he broke her fingers one by one. She screamed in agony and I fought hard against the binds on my wrists and ankles. The chair had no give, meaning it was bolted to the ground. 

"Leave her alone!" I screamed.

"Tell me." He demanded, but I didn't respond. I couldn't. "Very well." He continued to snap her bones. The overwhelming feeling of helplessness brought tears of frustration to my eyes. I couldn't tell him. It would risk my brother, Bodhi, Imogen, Garrick, and everyone else in Aretia. After a while, the temptation to tell set in. I couldn't watch Violet get tortured like this. Xaden already hates me, he's never going to speak to me again after he finds out I let this happen to her. I had to find a way to get his attention.

"You don't want to ask how an intinsic survived right under your nose?" The response was immediate. Violet crumpled to the floor as he let her go. Her broken arm hit the ground first causing her to moan in pain and my stomach to turn as I saw the bone press against her skin. 

"Yes, Nolan did tell me that he suspected you were an intinsic after you tried to stop him a few nights ago." Fuck, had it really been that long. The hunger and thirst that dominated my senses told me that wasn't hard to believe. 

My breathing sped up as he prowled closer to me. "You could let me show you." 

"While I applaud your efforts to have your power returned to you, that is a rather weak attempt." He came to stand behind me. "I'm more interested in how it works. That much you can explain to me. I'm sure Cadet Sorrengail would appreciate the reprieve." 

"Don't." Violet's voice was raw and she couldn't move. This was the only piece of leverage I had. 

"I can manipulate people's minds. Force thoughts into their heads and make them do what I want." If we ever made it out of here alive, I was signing myself over to be a weapon. 

"Interesting. When did this signet manifest?" The glint in his eyes let me know that he was fully invested in all I had to say. It was over, no matter if we made it out of this room or not, he was going to do whatever he had to do to mold me into a weapon for Navarre. Violet had to get out of here alive, then I would be alone and I would die before he broke me. 

"A few weeks after the fire manifested." I was giving as little information as possible. I knew I was fucked either way, but at least this way I can prolong it and keep him away from Violet.

"You've kept it hidden this whole time?" I nodded. "Who else knows?"

"No one." I couldn’t help but glance at Nora, the truth sayer, standing in the corner. 

"Lie." She responded immediately and Varrish struck me. 

"I suppose I should have expected you to lie about this. You isolate yourself because you're so afraid of the ones you love getting hurt. You're petrified of being alone. Shocking for the daughter of the famous Great Betrayer to be so weak." It was my turn to take blow after blow. Violet’s protests went completely ignored. "You've hid this long enough we cannot kill you simply for being an intinsic, but I can break you and you will become quite the weapon for General Melgren." It felt like hours. My entire body was in agonizing pain. The worst was when he pinned my leg to the ground at an awkward angle and stepped on it over and over again until it snapped, even then, he twisted and pushed on it. He didn't even pause as Nolan came in to mend Violet. She was still weak with dehydration and huger, but her body being mended gave her the strength to talk back. Varrish didn't relent. He knew she wasn't going to tell him about what we had done. I knew that as long as his attention was focused on me, she was safe. Xaden would come for her, I just had to buy time. "You girls have a few more days before Lieutenant Riorson violates his leave to come to search for you. Then, perhaps he will tell me what I wish to know." He let the threat hang in the air as he left. Fuck. He was smart and I fucking hated him for it. Xaden would fall for this trap without hesitation. He said it himself, he would follow her anywhere. 

"Violet, I'm sorry." I said after a while. "I'm so sorry. I-" Breathing hurt. Forcing air through my broken ribs was agonizing, but I had to tell her. 

"It's okay." She replied softly. 

"No, it's not. You're the best thing that ever happened to Xaden. I've been jealous and I judged you for what your mom did. Which isn't fair when you've never once judged me for what my father did." I tried to shift in the chair, but caught sight of the bone protruding from my leg. My stomach rolled as I forced myself to look away. "Please forgive me." There was more I wanted to say, but I felt so weak and my brain was so hazy. 

"Of course. If we survive this, maybe we can be friends. Have a sleepover." The laughter quickly fell into coughs for the both of us. 

"No boys allowed." I smiled at her, genuinely. Everything I thought about her was wrong and I feel horrible that it took torture for me to see it, but I could only hope that she would keep Xaden happy. I now know I can trust her with my home and my people. 

We didn't speak again. Varrish and Nolan were a revolving door. They mended and beat Violet over and over again. Nolan never mended me. Occasionally Varrish would turn his attention on me, that was the closest Violet came to breaking. The pain was never ending, but we both held strong. We could survive this. Xaden wouldn’t be alone, he would have Garrick and Bodhi at least. If it came down to it, I would make sure they got Violet out. I owed her and Xaden that much at least. 

My right eye was the only one that would open anymore and even that was a struggle. I forced it open at the sound of a familiar voice, but not the one I wanted to hear.

Violet immediately started to struggle. We both knew what was coming and without shields he would get everything.

He had the decency to look shocked at her appearance, his eyes only momentarily drifting over to me. Varrish continued to impress upon him the importance of getting Violet's memories. We were traitors and the entirety of Navarre was in danger from us. Ironic coming from him, but I kept my mouth shut.

“They’ve requested all leadership to assemble immediately.” Nora interrupted, urgency clear in her voice. Xaden and Garrick, it had to be them. We just had to hold out a little longer. 

“Help me, please.” She begged Dain and I knew it killed her to do it. His face was taut with tension and I knew that it was useless. All I could do was watch as he placed his fingers on her temples, both their eyes closed in concentration. 

After a few moments he pulled back with a gasp. “You’ve been smuggling our weapons to aid another kingdom.” 

Fuck. It was over. He had seen everything.

“Violet, it’s not your fault.” I said, trying to offer some reassurance. 

“They need all of us now.” The woman interrupted again, but Varrish wasn’t listening. He stepped on my leg and I screamed as the pain ricocheted through my joints.  

“Please, Dain!” Violet begged but he kept his face devoid of emotion.

“Let me see the dagger so I can compare it to the one in her memories.” He asked Varrish, who complied after warning him not to kill Violet. 

My world swam in front of me, but I tried hard to stay focused on what was happening in front of me. Dain placed the dagger against Violet’s throat. Muttering to her about trust. He was really going to kill her. 

“No! You fucking asshole!” I screamed and fought against the chair with every ounce of energy I had. The pain was blinding but if I didn’t do something, anything, Violet would bleed out in front of me, just like Liam and just like Mallory. I couldn’t let that happen. The woman was calling more urgently for Varrish and I reached for my power I already knew wasn’t there. They had ensured we continued to drink the mixture that severed the connection. “Violet!” I was hysterical, but my efforts were useless.

I heard the squelch of knife of flesh and I panicked. “No! Violet!” The shock clouded the vision in front of me. Varrish was the one bleeding, not Violet and Dain was cutting her free. She wasn’t dead. She’s fine. Dain was cutting her free. “What?” I asked, voicing my complete confusion as to what just happened. 

“I don’t know if we can fight our way out of here, but if you don’t move we’re dead.” He moved toward me and I flinched out of instinct, but all he did was cut away the binds. I could see the emotions written so plainly on his face, he never knew about any of it. His father had lied to him just as much as he lied to everyone else. 

“I can’t.” I looked down at my leg. “Take her.” I implored him. Varrish wasn’t dead, but he was slumped against the wall. They had time to get out. “Neither of us can walk and you have seconds to get out, so take her.” He nodded, handing me the dagger and moving forward to help Violet. He lifted her up and pulled her arm around his neck to help her walk. 

“No, we aren’t leaving her.” She tried to protest, but she was cut off by the woman, Nora, blocking the doorway. 

“Move and I’ll let you live.” Dain promised, offering the bitch a mercy she definitely didn’t deserve. 

Violet was leaning against his back but her gaze was locked on mine. I gave her a weak smile. I had a dagger and I was no longer bound to a chair. That was something. 

“I make no such promises.” She was dead before I could fully register that he was really here. Xaden was here. Violet was safe, he would make sure of that. 

My eyes felt so heavy. I don���t know that I had slept at all since we were captured, just when I passed out from the pain. I tried everything to keep watch over Violet and I did, I kept her alive. Now, she was safe and I could rest. 

“Hey, hey. Open your eyes, babe. Please.” Gods I never thought I’d hear his voice again. His hands were on my face and I immediately felt the tears well up. 

“Garrick.” I melted against the feel of his hands on my cheeks. Safe. I was safe. Even if I died now, at least I wasn’t scared and alone. 

“Hey beautiful. If you miss me that much, just ask next time. I can be wherever you are in seconds.” I laughed and opened my eyes to see him staring at me with unyielding intensity. There was no trace of laughter in his face as he watched me, his eyes taking stock of the injuries he could see. His jaw clenched and his fingers tightened as if I was going to disappear. 

“That bad?” I knew the answer. As far as I knew, we had been here for five days and I couldn’t even guess how many cuts, bruises, and broken bones I was suffering from. My leg was by far the worst of it though. The heat radiating from the open wound was definitely indicative of an infection. 

“Here.” It was Dain. He stood next to Garrick with bandages and a splint. “It’s not enough, but you can stabilize her leg.” 

“I’ll do it. Garrick, I need to know the path is clear when we move. Aetos don’t make me kill you. Help Violet.” Xaden knelt down in front of me while the other two did as he asked, Garrick more reluctantly than Dain. He gripped the sides of my face and kissed the top of my head hard before leaving. 

“I’m sorry. I-“ I wanted to apologize for everything but my throat felt like sandpaper. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect her.” I couldn’t get out enough words to say everything I wanted, but I hoped he could see my sincerity. “I was awful to both of you. Xaden, but you didn’t deserve it and neither did she. I tried to keep her safe, I promise.”

“Were you going to sacrifice yourself to get her out?” His voice was tight with emotions I hadn’t heard from him in 6 years. I nodded. “Don’t ever do anything so stupid again.” 

“You love her.” 

“I love you too. You’re my sister. I can’t lose you.” He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, something so out of character for him that I didn’t notice his subtle movements as he used his shadows to reset the break in my leg. I screamed so loud, I barely heard his whispered apology. He worked fast, wrapping the splint and securing it to my leg. It was messy but as he pulled me to stand I could at least hold myself up a little. I still had to put nearly all of my weight on him, but I could manage. 

“Aetos, you know everything now. If you’re going to follow, fucking follow.” That was more like Xaden, though the fact that he was trusting Dain to carry Violet was still confusing. 

“Xaden, we have a problem!” Garrick called from the top of the steps.

“What kind of problem?” Every step hurt like hell, but it was either push forward or stay in that dungeon forever. I kept pushing, knowing I was getting closer to Garrick. 

“A general sized one.” We rounded the corner to find him with a sword to his throat, General Sorrengail stood above him. 

I surged forward ignoring the new sparks of pain, but Xaden held me back, something that wasn’t exactly a difficult task, but I fought as hard as I could. 

“Who’d you kill?” She asked, her eyes flickering between Xaden and her daughter who was just behind us in Dain’s arms. 

“Everyone.” His answer was clearly what she wanted because she immediately dropped the blade. This time Xaden let me go when I half stepped, half fell into Garrick's arms. I was vaguely aware of the conversation happening around us, but all I could focus on was his arms around me, holding me up. We both clung to each other without a word. His fingers threaded through my hair, pulling me close. I felt so weak and I was still disconnected from both my dragon and my power, but I was safe with him. I breathed in the smell of him, letting it overpower the smells that had dominated my senses for the past several days. The damp smell of the stone and the sharp smell of blood. Our blood. 

“We have to give people the choice.” Violet begged. My attention returned to the conversation. “Tell them the truth and let them decide.” 

“Violet, they're not just going to leave everything because you tell them the truth.” Xaden reasoned.

“No, she’s right.” I said, feeling more confident now that I was safe. 

“Clearly you’ll need to be mended when we get home.” Xaden remarked, glancing at me in mock concern.

“Look, do you want me to trust people or not?” I challenged.

“Well, there’s a middle ground between asking you to trust my girlfriend and revealing our secret rebellion to the entire quadrant.” 

“Right, because you both are famously known for your pragmatism.” Garrick chimed in.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to take her side all the time just because you’re together now?” Xaden turned to him with a genuine look of betrayal. 

“Oh you’re right, sorry, didn’t mean to make you jealous, babe.” He leaned forward teasingly as if he were going to kiss him until shadows shoved him back. I felt some of the tension lift, as I felt the laughter rumble in his chest. 

“Fuck off. Look, we’re running out of time. I trust you.” He told Violet and she looked at Dain expectantly. What an odd group we were.

“I guess my last official act as wingleader will be to call a formation.” He resigned.

Less than an hour later we were mounted on our dragons and flying toward Aretia with more dragons and riders than I ever could’ve imagined. Home, we were really going home. 

Yes, little one. You did it. 

The feeling of being reconnected to my dragon and my power again was enough to give me the strength, with the help of my brother's shadows, to drag myself up onto the seat. I smiled as I let sleep pull me under.

Part 4? Other requests? Let me know!

[gay-dorito-dust]

👉🏻👈🏻 👉🏻👈🏻 🥺 how about asexual reader x bob? Where reader loves him, but doesn’t say anything bcause they think bob doesn’t like them like that and they believe their relationship would be doomed to fail and they’re just too hard to love 🥺🫡

You liked Bob, it was impossible for you not to find a man who talked about doing the dishes with an acomplished look within his eyes and a small smile, all the while looking as comfortable as he did within his little booknook that he had set up. You liked Bob and the way his face seemed to show just how he felt, rendering the need for words obsolete when all you needed to do was watch his face, mainly his eyes and you'd have all the awnsers you needed.

You liked Bob and the way he was always open to help and lend his shoulder, listen intently or just sit with anyone in mutal silence if they didn't feel like talking about it, finding them too painful to recall and never once holding it against them. He was indeed a beautiful man inside and out that you couldn't help but feel envious of how brightly and warmly he shines whenever he steps into a room, or how strong he was for still being kind desite of everything he's been through, not to mention how he would even go out of his way to learn everyone's likes and dislikes and memorising them whenever he was to make breakfast.

You liked Bob so much yet you felt as though you couldn't tell him so, even if your heart and mind screamed and pleaded with you to, spare them and yourself the agony of never having tried to tell the man who you lived in a tower along with four others. You were certain that Bob Reynolds would be the death of you with how often he occupied your every waking thought, even on mission did romantic thoughts of sweet Bob haunted you to the point you were almost shot on several occasions, much to your teams dismay seeing as they were the ones to pull you out of the line of fire.

'Just tell him.' Yelena told you, having had pulled you asided to confront you on your lack of focus on a recent mission after having to pull you back from getting seriously hurt, now finally having put two and two together of who was behind such uncharateristic behaviour and now urging you to make the first step.

'nope. no. no can do.' You rejected her idea immedietly, crossing your arms across your chest.

Yelena mimics your actions. 'Why not?' She raises her brow, wanting nothing more then to be past this sensless yearning within the group, after all there's not much sense in being in a relationship with a fellow teammate when you were constantly thrown into missions that were increasing in danger. Yelena just wanted you to be in a clearer mental state before heading out on another mission, but most of all she was curious as to why you wouldn't confess your feelings for Bob.

You shrugged as you smiled sadly. 'I'm not the one for him Yelena.' You admit. 'We wouldn't work out no matter how much i want us to but i just don't see him being happy with me, genuinly happy with me. I can't be the person he can be seen with and be proud to admit that he loves me freely.' You added, finally having gotten everything you've been thinking off of your chest but despite saying this alloud, it still didn't make you feel any good, if anything it made you feel worse then you did before. 'I'm difficult to love, i can see that and soon enough so will he soon. He's too good for me, i'd only dampen his light.'

Yelena frowned, saddened by your confession, and reached out to hold you by the shoulders firmly. 'That is such bullshit, you hear me? bullshit becuase you're not difficult to love, you're not going to dampen his light, and you're most certainly not going to make him regret loving you.' She finishes as she looks you in the eyes, seeing the saddness in them that you try to shrug off with a halfhearted smile. She made a promise to Bob to not tell you and to let him come to you when he was ready but she didn't know how much longer she could withhold it from you, especially when this is how you viewed yourself.

'He would be glad to admit that he loves you, that he's lucky enought to wake up next to you, Hell! Bob would think he's in heaven if he got to to hear you admit your feelings for him.' Yelena said to you before making a face. 'That or blush so hard his face is akin to a tomato.' She adds which made you laugh in response, you were certain Bob had relationships in the past, he's a good looking man with a heart of gold so you'd be more surpised if he didn't. Yet while Yelena's attempt to lift you up was appreciated, it didn't change the fact that you had seemingly made up your mind about yourself and none of it was remotely good.

No you couldn't see the good in yourself that would make Bob see you in any light that you saw him in, one where nothing else but him mattered, one where he would burst into your room one day with the sudden revelation that you were the one he wanted to watch the stars with up on the roof. You couldn't see yourself having a romcom lifestyle with Bob for you knew that your relationship would sour and ruin what you'd like to consider a very strong friendship. You didn't want to withold him from better people he'd find more appealing then you, ruin his chances of finding happiness with someone else becuase you were feeling selfish, wanting nothing and no one other then the man with the golden heart all to yourself.

You knew Bob would hate you for being so selfish. So you decided to be selfish with your feelings and keep them to yourself for Bob didn't need to know you felt, he didn't need to know that he made your day better just by being the first person you see, he didn't need to know how often you daydreamed about what it would feel like to wake up within his arms and run your fingers through his shaggy hair. You couldn't burden him with feelings he'll never reciprocate, so you'd let them rot within your chest until you were perfectly okay to move on from him, save him the hassle of having to let you down softly becuase he only say you as a friend and infact had his eyes on someone else.

Bob was far too kind to hurt anyone's feelings, expect maybe John's but John was often a prick who needed to be humbled, but the message was clear to you that you and Bob were simply not meant to be. Fate was not in favour of you and him being together at all and wanted you to remind you that you would never deserve that man, he was fated for soemone else and you'd have to accept that not everyone has their happy ending with the ones they want. Forced to accept the love that you think you deserve and that was nonexistent becuase you were brought up under the belief that you were impossible to love, a hard concept to grasp and a puzzle most give up on becuase you were difficult to solve and not worth the effort nor time to understand on a deeper level.

This is ultimetely the tragedy that is your life.

'Look i apreciate the pick me up Yelena but i'm still not the one he needs and i have to make peace with it.' You tell her as you removed her hands from your shoulders, offer her one last halfhearted smile before you left for your room, leaving Yelena to watch after you helpessly with concern when a familair voice calls out to her, Bob.

'Yelena?' He asked, looking between her and the way you had left with obvious concern. 'You okay? have you seen (name)?'

Yelena looks back at Bob then back the way you had left to your room, not liking the idea of you being alone with your thoughts, before looking back at Bob who was still as concerned as the last time she looked at him with his brows furrowed and a frown on his lips. 'They've just left to their room, they're not feeling they're best after the mission.' She tells him and none of it was a lie per say, she was telling the truth, but hoped that implying that you weren't feeling your best would hopefully encourage Bob to see you.

'They're not hurt are they?' Bob asked like how Yelena assumed he would. His eyes glanced towards her now, the worry written within his eyes and how it was clear he wanted to go to you, but feared that might not be something you wanted in this moment in time. Bob wanted to wish you'd be safe on the missions you partook on while he stayed back to better handle his powers, yet he didn't as he was certain you didn't need it and instead watched from afar as you took off with the rest, leaving him to worry and wonder when you'd return to him.

'Thankfully no, they're not but they have been seeming a little distracted as of recently which almost got them shot on multiple occasions.' Yelena replied, crossing her arms as she watched Bob become more antsy to get to your room and see you for himself, he wasn't subtle with his concern for you in the slightest in Yelena's eyes with how he shifts restlessly and fiddles with the sleeves of his baggy sweater in hopes of calming his mind. She could tell he was conflicted, you were usally the most cuatious and safest out of them all, so hearing you almost being close to shot must've been something most would never assosiate with you.

'Did they tell you why?' Bob asked, growing more worried about you by the second, knowing that on missions that you and the rest of the team took weren't ones where you could be allowed the luxary to be distracted; not unless you wanted to end up in the medbay for a good few weeks nursing yourself back to health or worse. Bob didn't want to think of the worse outcome when it came to you, not if he could help it, but the idea that something had been bothering you so badly it almost got you hurt and not at least mention it to him had him wondering if it had anything to do with him at all.

Yelena could sense him digging deeper for awnsers but awnsered him regardless. 'They did, but if you want to find out,' she then gets behind Bob and shoves him forward in the direction of your room, 'then ask them yourself.' she finshed.

'Yelena.' Bob trailed off as he looked over his shoulder at his surogate sister. 'you know i-'

'yes i do.' Yelena cuts him off. 'but i think it's time to be truthful to ourselves, especially now.' she adds gesturing him to keep going, to go to you and find out for himself instead of postponing the inevitable.

'but-'

'Bob.' Yelena cuts him off, grabs ahold of his shoulder. 'They need you now, more then you'll ever know okay.' she says as she looks him in the eyes, knowing that all Bob ever wanted to be was a hero and he was now given the opertunity to be your hero, and she wasn’t about to let him get inside his own head and ruin what could possibly end in the best possible way for him and for you.

‘Okay.’ Bob echoes as he looks ahead of him, face set in determination as he felt Yelena’s hand push him forward once more, guiding him into taking the first steps towards your room and finally get to say what he’s been wanting to say for what felt like forever for him. He knew Yelena was bored of listening to him talk about it, swearing her to secrecy onto of it afterwards was most likely overkill, but he wanted to be the one to say it on his own time. Yet there still was a seed of doubt planted inside his head, making him think that you didn’t want to see him after a mission gone south, that you wanted to be alone and not interrupted by anyone.

‘Go.’ Yelena’s voice encouraged him. ‘Go to them.’

And Bob took his first steps towards your room.

[chimerafeathers]

#this is why 2hats ending where siffrin loses is so intriguing to me because like #'why are you everything i'm not. we're supposed to be the same right? we're supposed to be the same. #so i think a part of loop they'd never admit to having wanted siffrin to fail. not in the sense of 'i fucking hate that guy and hope he goes #to hell' #but in the sense that... it's vindication that they did try everything. that they did everything possible and simply it wasn't possible to #do! so sad! but at least siffrin has a friend (me) to accompany them forever #so when that doesn't happen it's this weird reflection of 'i wasn't enough. i'm never enough' that morphs into 'so they're better than me? #they deserve it more than me? did i not wish hard enough????' #idk. i find it so compelling that loop will be ruthless to siffrin. prey on their greatest insecurities. and IMMEDIATELY back down when they #see siffrin's reaction #like some of them still remembers what it was like to be siffrin #this is nonsense. idk. i love loop (via @vampacidic)

right!! the constant vacillation between finding comfort in and sympathy for a kindred sufferer and all the despair and bitterness of the twin thoughts of "what was wrong with me that i couldn't succeed?" and "what's so good about you that you can?"

it's infuriating that this Siffrin beat the King so easily but, well, they're still trapped! maybe it never would have mattered how long Loop held on, there was never an end beyond the end. but is that better? is that an answer they can accept, even now? does it make it easier to see a reflection of themself lose more and more hope with each passing loop, each new lead that only leads to another dead end? how much relief can they find in this? but at the same time, how much worse is it to see him learn about their friends and accomplish things that Loop never got the chance to? would it have been the same for them, if they had just tried harder? they'll never know, it's impossible to know, because that timeline is gone and they can only ever be a spectator in this one.

UNLESS.........they can get rid of their replacement and take back their friends, their body, their name, their life at last.

(but can they really say those things belong only to them, anymore, when they're staring down into the terrified, desperate eye of the one whose blood spilled again and again to carve out this ending? when they know exactly what it cost?)

Loop’s dialogue has so many facets and potential interpretations…when they are talking about or to Siffrin, exactly how much of it is a direct reflection of how they view themself, either now or in the past?

how much of it is it a deliberate projection—things they wish they had been kinder to themself about and make an effort to verbalize now that they have this external perspective, or things they still hate themself for and can’t help but deride when it’s thrown in their face by this copy—and how much is subconscious, an instinctual reaction to seeing their own traits in “another”?

and conversely, how much of what they say is an attempt to draw a hard line in the sand between them, this is you and this is me, the success story and the discarded failure? coming from the same origin point but diverging beyond reconciliation, the differences cementing their stations as the favored and the forgotten?

they were they same but they aren’t anymore but they are still but they’re different now but they are and aren’t and are and aren’t—

how often do they feel like they’re talking to a mirror, a glassy, empty reflection of their own flaws and mistakes, rather than a whole and complete person who shares their love and pain? how much does the line between those perceptions blur and shift from moment to moment, how much do they let themself be aware of it, how much do they agonize over it?

they’re just. such a mess of contradictions and complications. i need to lie down.

[gremlin-girly]

The Crassula Conundrum

Bucky Barnes x reader

Dividers by me, made in canva pro. Credit to the OG artists for the art :)

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine.

Tags/warnings: Fluff, mutual pining, kissing

Summary: You gift Bucky a crassula and he vows to take care of it... but accidentally ends up "killing" it.

Word count: ~1k

Bucky Masterlist | Pots and Petals Masterlist | Main Masterlist

He tried.

He really, really tried.

But the plant just... died.

He googled everything from over-watering to too much sun but he couldn't figure it out. Maybe he had the opposite of green fingers - he wouldn't be surprised if they were true considering his kill list was longer than his metal arm.

Still. This plant was important. You had gotten it for him as a moving in gift when he bought his new apartment; complete with a big bow around the pot's centre.

And now you were going to visit when you got back from your mission and he had to find a replacement fast. He needed one that was similar in size, colour and maybe if he bought a new pot it would be better?

Determined, Bucky found the closest plant shop the following day and picked up a new Crassula. He'd only remembered the name because you'd explained it brought good luck and he was lucky he'd taken a picture of his limp gift before arriving because the sheer amount of greenery was overwhelming. He picked up food, a new funky pot and some extra soil. Surely, with his old plant out of sight, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference?

Bucky frowned to himself. He still felt horrendously guilty. It was supposed to be just a plant. He shouldn't care. But he did.

For a plant.

Sighing, Bucky headed back to his apartment with his duplicate plant and hoped you couldn't tell the difference.

It died.

Again.

Bucky had his head in his hands as he tried to think of what he'd done wrong. Maybe it was existing. He moved the sorry, soggy plant on the furthest ledge next to the first one and sighed.

You were due back by the end of the week and he was spending more money on plants than he cared to admit. He knew that the moment you'd see the damn thing you'd get all excited, your face would light up with that thousand-watt grin that made his super-soldier knees wobble.

So, not having a plant was out of the question.

Grabbing his jacket, Bucky headed back out to get another plant. After all, third time's the charm.

It must have been some sort of colossal cosmic joke.

The third plant had also died and - even worse! - within the first twenty-four hours of Bucky bringing it back. When he'd visited the plant store again the clerk actually recognised him as he checked out.

"You really like those plants, huh?" He said with a cheery smile.

Bucky offered a wry one in return, adding a small bouquet of tulips alongside his newest crassula purchase. If this one failed he could at least give you some prettier flowers by way of apology. "Something like that."

Bucky's apartment always had a certain je ne sais quoi about it that you loved. Perhaps it was the view of the city from twelve stories up, or the way Alpine could lounge happily in the sun, or perhaps it was just because Bucky was there.

As you stood outside his door waiting to be let in, you couldn't help but feel nervous. You were only catching up as friends. Teammates. Coworkers.

But when you said you hadn't eaten, Bucky had insisted on cooking chilli for you so now your passing visit had evolved to dinner. Which wasn't a bad thing, per se, it had happened before - but it was becoming harder and harder for you to ignore the fact that your grumpy team leader managed to make your heart flutter. Especially when he looked at you with that soft smile that reached his baby blues.

The door is thrown open suddenly, Bucky looking frazzled in a white vest that's marked with tomato sauce and... soil?

"Hey," he grins. "You're early."

"By like five minutes." You smile back. "Smells good."

"I - yes - secret recipe." He stands awkwardly in the doorway.

"You gonna invite me in?" You raise an eyebrow at him and he sheepishly smiles and steps aside before offering to take your jacket.

"Thanks." You say, rubbing your now-bare arms awkwardly before following his direction to head through into the kitchen. The good smell only get stronger and your stomach rumbles at the smell of beef and spices, drawing you tantalisingly closer to the giant pot on the stove.

"There's drinks in the refrigerator!" Bucky shouts from the hall. "Help yourself!"

You resist taking a spoonful of chilli and meander to the fridge but as you open it, a plastic pot and crassula crash onto your head. You're panick-stricken immediately as you watch the plant, soil and roots roll along the floor unbroken before the soil crumbles as it bumps into a cupboard.

You curse, trying to scoop it back up. Why had Bucky put it on the top of the fridge? Where was the ceramic pot you bought him? Did he secretly hate it?

Upon touching the soil you realise it's far too wet. Your fingers sink in and stain black and you frown; that wasn't good. You don't even hear Bucky's footsteps behind you until it's too late.

"I'm so sorry Buck." You say hurriedly, still kneeling by the body of the plant. "I didn't even see it on top of the fridge. I-"

You pause, noticing he looks a bit sheepish and behind him spot a second crassula plant, in a pot you definitely didn't gift him. You frown and point at it wordlessly and Bucky follows your gaze to the small table tucked by the wall.

He wants the ground to swallow him. He didn't think you would spot it.

"I can explain." He says quickly, kneeling to help you with the soil. As he helps put the sodden soil back he - despite being horribly embarassed - explains what happened with the plants. You listen and try not to laugh, feeling your heart warm at the sentiment behind his three new crassula plants.

"They're all fine Buck." You tell him once he's finished and he looks up at you incredulously.

"No way."

"You've overwatered and underwatered them but... new soil and a sunny spot should fix that." You say with a small smile. "You could have texted me to ask you know."

You reach up to boop soil onto his nose. "Worry wart."

"Oh, you're gonna pay for that." Bucky sneers playfully, making a grab for you and pulling you against him. You squeal and attempt to wriggle away but Bucky's grasp is too strong.

However, when you crane your neck to poke your tongue out at him, Bucky is already looking down at you, face crinkled into a smile. He initiates the kiss, soft and tender and you relax in his grip, heart thudding, and lean into his chest letting him kiss you on the kitchen floor like it's the most romantic place in the world. You can feel his heart beating as quickly as yours and - after a few brief moments - they synch up and beat in perfect harmony.

Maybe those plants were good luck after all.

End

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[gardengnosticator]

puppy training.

pairing: vi x sevika warnings: butch x butch, puppy play, boot grinding, pet names, sub!bottom!vi, dom!top!sevika, dirty talk and petnames MEN AND MINORS DNI!!! author's note: a little expansion on a wack drabble i posted yonks ago in a different time and era and century. anyway!!! enjoy like 1k words of vi being a pathetically horny little thing

Vi hated how often she ended up here as of late. 

How the only thing she could think of after a hard fought victory or an unfair and cheap defeat, was this. 

How through the burning haze of bruised flesh and broken this was all she could fathom as the light at the end of the tunnel. 

How all the pain and misery, all the disappointment in herself for everything she’s tried and failed just seemed to fade away when she was here.

How her world was reduced to just this one thing, a clear and simple objective that even she, as broken and downtrodden as she was, could do. 

All she had to do was shut her mouth, and be a “Good dog.”

Sevika huffs loudly, grey pupils listlessly roaming about the room as her mind swirled with thought.

So much to do now that Silco was gone, so many concerns and worries and obligations adorn her shoulders that even when the absurd weight of her prosthetic is removed, she does not feel any lighter. 

Her one remaining hand reaches up to massage her jaw, the tension so tight she feels she might shatter a tooth. Her tender movements are interrupted by a sound coming from under her, a pitiful, muffled whine that catches Sevika’s attention.

With a quirked brow, she cranes her head to the side, gazing down at the sight before her.

Vi, jacket long since discarded alongside her pants, crouches herself ever so carefully over the toe of Sevika’s boot, hips stuttering their way back and forth over well worn leather that was now stained with Vi’s arousal. 

Sevika’s lips curl into her signature gap-toothed smirk, hand brushing forward to tangle her fingers into Vi’s sweat drenched locks and take a firm hold, yanking her head back enough so the two could make eye contact.

Vi’s eyes are watery, eyelids half-lidded and her mouth hangs open as she ruts herself stupid atop Sevika’s foot. 

“Naughty little pup, aren’t you? Making so much noise, it’s like you want to get seen,” Sevika’s voice is low, controlled, equal parts teasing and commanding as she watches Vi try and gather enough brain cells to offer a response but all that comes from her parted lips is a keening groan that is lost amongst the delightfully wet sound of Vi’s leaking cunt smearing itself over her shoe. 

“Seems all your time playing lapdog to that Piltie princess did you some good, finally learned your proper place, hm?” Vi wants to hang her head, clamp her eyes shut and look away from Sevika’s piercing glare.

But the fist Sevika had formed in Vi’s hair kept her shame on full display, and the only response she could muster was a pathetic groan as Sevika arched her foot upwards, grinding it right up against Vi’s throbbing, aching bud. 

Vi struggles to bite back a loud groan, a beautiful mixture of shame and lust as the illusory figure of Caitlyn wafted through the girl’s pleasure-clouded mind. It was so vivid it was like Vi could feel her right there, those perfectly plucked brows pulled tight as she clicked through her teeth, watching this shameful display. 

And what a display it was, the imagined figure of her ex only causing Vi to grind her hips down even harder, hands darting forward to wrap around Sevika’s thick calf, clinging to it like a frightened animal.

Tears forming in the corners of glazed over eyes as her mouth droops open, unable to even talk back do anything but chase her own pleasure like a dog in heat. 

Vi can feel herself dropping lower and lower, everything in her world fading out as the only thing that crossed her mind was to press herself down onto Sevika’s boot as hard as she could, her aching clit twitching and desperate for more and more friction even if it cost Vi every ounce of dignity she could have as a bottom-feeding pugilist. 

Sevika’s face is composed, she always had that strength about her. The restraint to hold her gloating until the right moment, her taunts and sneers until they would hit tenfold and what Vi needed right now was not that, this poor pup needed some affection.

Her hand reaches out, thick fingers grasping onto Vi’s cheeks, just enough so that the chipped nails would leave gorgeous little indents on plush flesh as she forces Vi’s head up to face her. 

It’s almost intimate. Vi doesn’t want that, doesn’t want the emotions, the connection, she merely just wants to chase her high and then be tossed to the side so the tears begin to freely flow as she stares into Sevika’s unreadable gray pupils.

She whimpers, she whines, her body shivers with stimulation as her cheeks grow wetter and wetter, plush lips chapped and scared pout pathetically as Vi rolls her hips back and forth, back and forth, back and forth with guttural abandon. 

“Sad little thing you are, come on now, you’re almost there, you can do it.” Vi hated how sweet Sevika sounded, how if she really, truly focused on her words, her tone, the grip on her cheeks it all seemed so kind. It made her almost feel as if what she was doing  wasn’t the lurid actions of a desperate, lonely broken woman and instead a mutual and beautiful moment between lovers.

That feeling was cut short as the palm gripping Vi’s cheeks shifted slightly so that Sevika, taking full advantage of Vi’s slack jaw could force two fingers into her mouth. 

Vi wants to gag, wants to pull away, to spit and curse but Sevika’s stare keeps her steady and just like the properly trained lap dog, she does as she is expected to do. What Sevika has trained into her. She hollows her cheeks, closes her eyes and eagerly laps her tongue over the invading digits. 

The wet sound of Vi’s lips mixed alongside the sloppy rolling of her hips would be enough to break a lesser woman but to Sevika, it’s merely a beautiful sign of just how well Vi has taken to this tutelage.

The way her cheeks hollow, the way her head rolls back and forth, spit pooling over her lips as Sevika bites back a shudder of her own as she feels Vi’s tongue caress over her calloused fingertips. 

“Come on pup, one last big push,” Sevika groans, her thick thighs spreading enough to give Vi a luxurious view of her perfect manspread. Vi lets out a strangled moan, the urge to shove her head forward and bury herself right into the core of Sevika’s heat so overwhelming that the only thing stopping her was the grip Sevika had on her tongue.

So Vi tightens her jaw, shuts her eyes and furrows her brow as she clumsily brings herself to orgasm, spasming and quivering. Her muscular thighs jittering as if she had been knocked clean out as she lets out a muffled squeal, creaming herself over Sevika’s boot before collapsing back onto the ground, stomach exposed like a submissive dog. 

Sevika looks down at Vi’s spent form, still shaking from the afterglow of her climax as she continues to leak over her thighs and onto the floor. Sevika sneers, leaning forward from her seat to drag her saliva coated fingers through the dense, unkempt hair of Vi’s bush to wipe herself clean before standing up, hovering over Vi one last time before retreating, “Keep this winning streak up, and who knows, maybe next time I’ll touch you.” 

Vi doesn’t register the words, just the dull ache between her thighs as she craves her second round. 

[redtsundere-writes]

Date 5. Trying Something New

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soldier!Reader

Beginning. 🡨 Previous | Next 🡪

Summary: You just want to help Ghost to stop harming himself… These aren't dates, okay?

Word Count: 3681 words.

TW: MDNI. +18. Self-harm. Smut. Possessiveness and Jealousy.

A year earlier.

Soap woke up on the wrong foot that morning. He complained about the cafeteria food, almost fell in the shower due to a stray bar of soap, and now he was struggling to do the reps he always did. He yelled in frustration as he lifted the weight that nearly crushed his chest, drawing the attention of some soldiers in the gym. Gaz tried not to laugh as he assisted him. Ghost shook his head in disappointment at his partner as he lifted hand weights in front of the mirror.

“What the hell is wrong with me?!” Soap yelled, annoyed, sitting down on the stretcher.

“You really need to fuck,” Gaz joked, patting him on the back to cheer him up.

“Hope God hears ya, mate. Price's been taking on missions like we're the Avengers.” Soap sighed before placing his hands in prayer. “I want to have a little more social life! I want a girlfriend, to settle down, to get married, to have kids! Why is it so difficult?”

“Amen.” Gaz joined in.

“We accept those missions because they're important, Johnny,” Ghost reminded him.

“No offense, Lieutenant, but shut up. You're only saying that because you'll always be a grumpy, carefree bachelor. Some people really want a beautiful wife waiting for them at home,” the captain replied.

Ghost knew he was right. He was already in his forties and still adamant about not wanting to get married. He'd tried relationships in the past, and they all failed because of his dry personality or his long work shifts. Ghost wasn't husband material, and he came to terms with that a long time ago.

“God, all I ask is that you give me a beautiful, intelligent, faithful woman who looks sexy when she's angry.” Soap prayed, to which Gaz scoffed.

Whistling broke out in the gym. The three soldiers looked toward the entrance to see what it was about. A woman in a military uniform that hugged her muscles and a black cap that sat uncomfortably on her head. Analyzing eyes, a confident stride, and small sections of hair highlighting your beautiful features. Gaz gaped open next to half the half-naked men in the gym. Soap rubbed his eyes, thinking he was seeing a beautiful mirage. Your beauty, presence, and attitude were everything he'd ever asked for in his dream woman. He confirmed it was love at first sight as soon as your eyes met; he felt it in his racing heart. God sure works in strange ways.

Soap thought nothing could unnerve him anymore, being a sergeant, but as soon as your eyes scanned him from head to toe, he nearly fainted from excitement. Of all the men in the gym, you'd seen him. Not Gaz, not Ghost, no, just him. The butterflies in his stomach turned into wild hawks as soon as you started walking toward him. Soap froze with nerves, Gaz quickly pretended to look for his water bottle to hide the fact that he hadn't noticed you, while Ghost… couldn't understand why his colleagues were acting like real clumsy apes. This was a woman, not an alien.

“You must be Sergeant MacTavish. Captain Price told me about you,” you said as you approached. “She knows my name!” Soap thought ecstatically.

“That's me.” He interrupted himself to clear his throat from his nerves. “I'm Sergeant John MacTavish, but some call me Soap. Although you can call me… anytime,” he flirted in the best deep voice he could, crossing his arms to show off his biceps. Ghost looked at the sergeant in confusion. You sighed in disappointment.

“I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that.” You cut him off with a simple sentence, but without being rude. Gaz almost spit out the water he was drinking at the quick rejection. “I'm looking for Captain Price. I was supposed to meet him later, but I arrived earlier than expected. I heard he might be around.” You checked the black watch on your wrist.

Soap smiled at the rejection. You were hard to please, a real challenge, an enigma behind a pretty face. Just his type. As he got closer, he got a better look. The hat on your head looked like some kind of mask, you had a rather heavy suitcase hanging off your shoulder, and most importantly, you didn't have an engagement ring. After taking a long time to reply, Gaz answered:

 “He left a while ago. He usually showers and then goes to his office. You can wait for him there.”

“Where's his office?” you asked, scrutinizing the dark-haired boy from head to toe. He seemed nicer than the sergeant.

“Two blocks south, in a three-story building. Ask the receptionist for him,” Gaz explained, signaling his hand in the right direction.

You turned your body in the indicated direction and met Ghost's analyzing gaze. The mask might have hidden his expression, but his brown eyes spoke volumes: He didn't trust you. You both looked at each other at the same time. Head, torso, hands, legs, feet, and position. It seemed you shared a bad habit.

“Thank you,” you said to Gaz before retreating the way you'd come in.

Soap could finally breathe once you were far enough away to be out of earshot. “Thank you, God. You've always been so good to me.” 

“At what God are you praying to? I think I'm praying to the wrong one,” Gaz said to Soap, still staring at your back.

Ghost followed your steps with his eyes until you finally left the gym. He thought about how you looked at each other at the same time, as if you could read their minds. It was like you'd met before, but not in this life. It was strange, but he simply pushed the thought away and returned to his workout.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦

After finishing the day's training, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost were on their way to eat at one of the few cafeterias on the base when Gaz received a call from Captain Price, requesting the three men's presence in his office immediately, which they quickly complied with.

Soap opened the door to Price's office and smiled when he saw you standing at the desk. You turned to look at the men curiously. From the small interaction you'd had in the gym, you already knew what kind of men the ones standing in front of you were. 

Soap seemed to be one of those soldiers who never shut up and had inappropriate relationships with the base's nurses. The dark-skinned man, despite being immediately attracted to you, was quieter and more attentive, a good-natured person in general. And then there was the one with the mask… That guy was dangerous, you could feel it in your bones with every step he took toward you. It would be best not to speak to him too much. The three soldiers walked inside and approached the desk, Soap making sure to stand next to you.

“This is Lieutenant T/n Russ. Starting today, she'll be part of the 141st. I'm counting on you to help her acclimate to the base.” Captain Price introduced them. “Lieutenant, this is Lieutenant Simon Riley, Sergeant Kyle Garrick, and…”

“Soap,” you interrupted.

“Have you met already?” Price asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.

“We met a while ago at the gym,” Soap clarified with a flirtatious smile.

“Perfect.” Price nodded before turning to the three men. “Here's the situation. Lieutenant Russ is now officially part of the Task Force, but she'll be on probation for a year to ensure she's a good fit for the team.” The three men were puzzled by the situation. 

When a new member joins Task Force 141, protocol dictates that they undergo a test to validate that they're a suitable candidate for missions, then go through specialized training, and finally, they're assigned a division. But Price had decided that procedure wasn't suitable this time.

“That's because she was transferred to this team due to… certain disturbances at her last base, so I'm going to need one of you to supervise her for a year.”

“Certain disturbances?” Ghost glanced at you. 

Your hand tightened the drawstring on your backpack, remembering the disturbance. It couldn't have been pleasant. Now a new doubt had arisen: Were you the victim of the riots or the causer? This whole situation left a sour taste in his mouth. In the other hand, Soap didn't care about that detail in the least; his eyes just sparkled at the opportunity to spend more time with you.

“Ghost, you're in charge,” Price ordered.

“What?!” Ghost and Soap exclaimed simultaneously. Gaz tried to contain his laughter, but couldn't.

“Why Ghost? I'm the one in charge of training the rookies,” Soap asked, offended.

“Because Laswell assured me she didn't need to be trained for the position,” Price replied. The three soldiers glanced at you, curious to know how much Laswell knew about you.

“I don't want to play babysitter,” Ghost complained.

“You're not going to babysit her, I just need you to keep an eye on her to make sure she adapts well,” Price explained.

“And why me? I'm sure Soap or Gaz would do a better job,” Ghost inquired.

“I agree. I'd do a better job.” Soap stepped forward with some excitement.

“I wouldn't mind taking the position,” Gaz grinned. Soap glared at him for trying to take away his once-in-a-lifetime chance to finally land a nice girlfriend.

“Her supervisor will be Ghost, period,” Price dictated.

“Oh, come on, Price. Are you really going to leave the new girl in the hands of someone who’s easily fashed?” Soap tried to persuade him. The captain held his forehead, beginning to run out of excuses.

“Do you really want to know why I don't have you as supervisors?” Price asked, praying they'd say no, but they ended up nodding. The captain exhaled deeply and pointed his finger at Soap. “You're going to fuck her, Gaz is going to fuck her, and Ghost is 50/50.”

The three soldiers were stunned at that accusation, while you rolled your eyes. You expected something like that, considering the men on this base seemed to ogle you because they had little physical contact with women.

“50/50?” Ghost asked, offended that he was considered a pervert like his colleagues.

“It would be 0 if you didn't have a penis,” Price replied sternly to stop him from continuing the conversation. “Now, please take the lieutenant back to the barracks so she can get used to it,” the captain ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Ghost mumbled.

“Welcome to the team, Lieutenant Russ.” Price stood up from his seat to shake your hand.

“Thank you for having me. I won't let you down,” you said with a handshake. You grabbed your things to follow Ghost, but Gaz's voice stopped you.

“Hey, a word of advice, don't choose Ghost's bunk,” he warned you.

“He's right. The lieutenant snores like a tractor with a hangover.” Soap agreed. Price nodded in agreement. “Better choose my bunk, take the bottom one so you're comfortable,” he continued in a flirtatious tone, to which Ghost rolled his eyes.

“Thanks for the advice.” You smiled at everyone. “Now can I give you some advice, Soap?”

“Any advice you want.” Soap returned your pearly smile.

His heart raced like a locomotive again as soon as you walked toward him. You pulled him into a half-hug over one of his shoulders, leaning closer to his ear. Your subtle vanilla scent tickled his nose. Your chest brushed against his arm. You were tempting him, and you knew it perfectly well.

“Women smell desperation from a mile away, Sergeant,” you whispered in his ear.

Soap nearly melted at the feel of your warm breath on his ear. You gently pushed him away from his chest, leaving an invisible mark where you touched him before following Ghost toward the barracks. Soap touched where you'd touched him as if he'd been a ghost.

“That woman is going to kill me.” He sighed.

“You're right.” Gaz imitated him.

“You horny bastards,” Price scolded them before throwing a pen at them to snap them out of their lovelorn trance.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦

You silently followed your new supervisor. As his appearance suggested, he didn't seem like a very outgoing man. You liked to chat from time to time, but this time, you chose to stay quiet so as not to bother him more than he already was. You entered a two-story building, the barracks. Ghost gave you a brief tour of the reception, the cleaning shed, the offices, the dining hall, and then you went up to the second floor, which had a more masculine feel.

“This is the common room,” Ghost commented.

It was a long area with several entertainment stations. There was a foosball table, a ping-pong table, a few screens with video game consoles, and a bar with mugs designated for each soldier. You approached it with some curiosity to check out the bottles they had. A honey-colored bottle with a blue label caught your eye.

“Macallan. Wonderful Scotch whiskey,” you commented as you inspected the bottle.

“Soap brought it,” Ghost commented.

“Why am I not surprised?” you said sarcastically, returning the bottle to its place.

You looked at the bottles with a certain nostalgia. A rueful nostalgia. That kind of feeling that reminds you of a false happiness that only existed to cover a wound so large it couldn't heal on its own. Ghost's heavy gaze was once again on you. Even though he didn't want to play babysitter, Price had given the order, so he had to do his job well. He was prepared to watch you like a hawk. You looked back at him, letting him know that you understood the position he was in.

“Don't worry, I won't give you any trouble,” you told him as you left the bar. “If you don't give me any either.”

Ghost smiled offendedly under his mask. Even though it seemed to be a truce in the awkward situation they were in, he knew it was a threat. Even though there's a lot of talk in the military about camaraderie and loyalty, there was always the odd idiot who likes to watch the world burn.

“Don't worry. I don't have time to waste with you,” Ghost replied before returning to the tour.

You didn't know Ghost at all, but you were starting to like him. Like Price, he didn't seem to be the type of man who would try to pick you up every chance he got. He was busy and focused, just like you.

Ghost continued the tour toward the restrooms. It was an area divided into lockers and a large room with exposed showers. There wasn't a single privacy curtain in sight.

“So where do the women shower?” you asked worriedly.

“Let's just say it's an inclusive restroom,” Ghost commented before continuing on his way to avoid a complaint.

“Fucking hell…” you muttered to yourself, resigned.

The tour ended in the living quarters. 10 bunk beds lined up in two rows. Ghost indicated which beds were free: the bottom bunk of Soap's bunk, the top bunk of Gaz's bunk, or Ghost's top bunk, which was at the back of the room by the window. You debated the pros and cons of each option. Ghost could see it in your eyes.

“About what Soap said…” You looked at him, curious about what he was about to confess. “He's exaggerating; I don't snore that loudly.”

“I figured,” you commented before walking to the bunk you'd be sharing with Ghost.

You chose that bunk for two reasons: One, to get away from Soap and Gaz. And two, to make Ghost's job easier. You jumped up onto the bed and looked out the window; from there, you could see the street and some gray warehouses. It wasn't the best view, but it was better than nothing.

“I think that would be it. Welcome to 141.” Ghost dismissed you before finally returning to his business.

“Hey, Ghost, can I call you that, or would you prefer me to call you…”

“Ghost is fine,” he interrupted without stopping.

You followed him with your eyes until he disappeared through the door. You smiled to yourself before returning your gaze to the window. It was a miracle you'd been accepted into a base where no one knew you. You could start over, explore unknown places, and get away from what had plagued your mind for the past few years.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦

Your first day at the base had been pretty normal. You'd unpacked your suitcase in your designated locker, replaced your uniform with something more comfortable, and made your bed with some fresh sheets and a butterfly blanket your father had given you for Christmas before he passed away. Everything seemed fine… Too fine.

Something bad was about to happen.

After dinner, you went upstairs to find something to entertain yourself with in the common room. There, you ran into Gaz and some other kids from the team.

“It's not personal,” he warned you before putting a black bag over your head.

You were cruelly ambushed. You tried to defend yourself and get the bag out, but the other men grabbed your arms and legs to immobilize you. They then lifted you up to take you to who knows where. You yelled vulgarities while aggressively trying to pull away your limps to break free, but nothing worked.

They forced you to sit in a chair and then removed the bag from over your head. You blinked a few times to adjust to the light falling solely on you. You squinted to focus on all the members of the 141 who were in the darkness. They smiled, excited by the approaching spectacle. Soap congratulated Gaz for successfully capturing you. Price led the group as always, taking a step forward, so everyone could see him better.

“More than weapons, more than strategy, trust is the greatest strength on this team. On the battlefield, there's no time for doubt. We must know, without a second thought, that the comrade at our side will be there when we need him.” Price explained, not only to you, but to the rest of the team. “However, trust is earned with effort, discipline, and loyalty.”

You clenched your jaw at his words. You knew a thing or two about trust, how hard it was to gain it and how easy it was to lose it. You knew what it felt like to trust blindly only to be attacked from behind. Your chest tightened as you remembered the looks on your teammates' faces when they realized you had completely abandoned them when you jumped out of that plane.

“The real question is: are you willing to trust this team, Lieutenant?” Price asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Laswell had surely mentioned your military history to Price, which was why he was asking you. You looked around at your teammates. You could only recognize Soap and Gaz standing behind Price, but you didn't see Ghost anywhere. You had lost trust in your former teammates, but they were no longer on this earth to know that. If you'd returned to this job, it was because you were willing to try again.

“Yes, sir,” you answered honestly. Price smiled in agreement before taking a pair of scissors out of his back pocket.

“Prove it.”

He approached you, took a strand of your hair, and cut it, letting it fall to the floor. One by one, your new colleagues approached you to cut a strand of your hair. Some cut more than others, leaving your hair uneven. It reminded you of when your older brother, Keegan, used to cut your hair to save some money. The first few cuts had been horrible, but he learned as he went. If there was anyone you trusted implicitly, it was him.

Gaz then approached you to cut a large strand of hair and pat you on the shoulder. Soap only cut an inch off your hair with a sweet smile. One after another, they went by until they left you with the worst haircut you'd ever had in your life.

I thought everyone had passed until you saw Ghost standing in front of you. He brushed your hair forward with his rough fingers, your uneven strands hanging in front of your eyes. Ghost cut your bangs with his best skills, thinning out the remaining stray hairs.

“Trust lies in the fact that we will only use the weapons at our disposal to protect you and save lives,” Ghost reminded you.

In the blink of an eye, he took the scissors and pressed the blade against your neck. With a gasp, you grabbed his wrist in reaction to how quickly he tried to hurt you. His eyes under the balaclava were cold, distant. He didn't care about you in the slightest. He didn't have to. He didn't know you at all, so he owed you no genuine loyalty. You were just another coworker. Soap tried to intervene when he saw what was happening, but Price stopped him.

“The weapons we have at our disposal can always be used against you.” Ghost released you after that threat, so you slowly let go, still watching his hands.

Ghost returned the scissors to Price, and he stepped back forward. Ghost returned to the darkness, leaving the rest of the team quietly discussing what had just happened. He pressed his back against the wall and crossed his arms. If he was going to be your supervisor for a year, he had to make it clear he wasn't playing around. One false step, and he'd make sure you never set foot on the base again.

“I want you to look around you now. This is your new family, whom you must protect and care for. Because as long as you trust us, you'll never be alone. Understood?” Price explained.

“Yes, sir.”

“Welcome to Task Force 141, kid.” Price finished his speech, to which the entire team applauded.

Masterlist.

Next 🡪

Thanks for reading! <3

[kyehwas]

🔥 bad influence ft. kwon soonyoung

-> or, you start hanging with the guy everyone tells you to avoid.

|| wc + warnings || 0.7k / school au, bad boy hoshi, making out, uh i gave up midway through.

"Kwon Soonyoung is a bad person!" "Kwon Soonyoung is trouble, stay far away from him!"

You should've listened, but at the same time, you're lucky you didn't. Kwon Soonyoung, or as he went by, Hoshi, never made it to school on time, didn't listen, and did everything the average troublemaker would do.

You had tried your best to stay far, far away from him. The last thing you wanted was to get involved with his antics.

“Woah, I think he's staring at you,” Yunjin pointed out. Across your locker was Hoshi, talking to his friends, but his gaze wasn't focused on them. He was focused on you.

Fuck. He started walking towards you. Double fuck.

“Y/n, right?” An exchanged glance between you and your best friend. “Could you tutor me? Please? I can't afford to fail math.”

“Tutor you?” You repeated, still shook.

“Mhm, pretty please?” He batted his eyelashes, and you had no choice but to give in.

“So, do you know what the unit you're doing right now is about?” You asked him. Hoshi blankly stared. “Some quadratic stuff?” This was going to be hard.

“So…” You began, and two hours later, the boy finally started to understand what you were talking about.

The sessions continued every other day, and you learned that Hoshi maybe wasn't as bad of a person you thought he was.

Walking with Yunjin and Hoshi in the halls also became a normal occurrence. Yunjin didn't trust Hoshi at first, but he quickly earned her trust once she had seen how he behaved around you. “We have finals tomorrow, ready?”

“I sure am, I studied for half the night,” Yunjin responded, “I don't know about this guy though.”

“Hey! I am very ready, thanks to y/n!” Hoshi exclaimed.

"Yeah, because I drilled all that information in your head." You deadpanned, eliciting a laugh from Yunjin.

Tomorrow came, and the finals went just as you'd hoped they would. Some questions stumped you, but most of the questions were easy enough that you probably passed with an A.

Just as you were exiting the classroom, someone crashed into you at a speed that made you fall to the floor. “Y/n! I don't think I failed!”

“Hoshi! Please don't do that, God…” You pushed him up and saved yourself from getting crushed to death.

“Come with me, let's skip the rest of the day.”

“That's a horrible idea.”

“Please..?” He gave you the same big sad eyes he gave you the day he was trying to convince you to tutor him, and you huffed in defeat.

You have zero idea what happened next. One moment, you were entering Hoshis house, terrified at the fact that you were skipping school for the first time. The next moment, you were on Hoshi's lap, hands tangled in his hair.

“Kwon Soonyoung, I hate you,” You mutter, tugging his hair enough to make him throw his head back.

“I know you don't, sweetheart.” He smirked, taking your bottom lip in between his teeth.

“I should've never skipped with you.” You solely saird things to fuel him, and it worked as well as you thought.

Hoshi sighed, “Come on, this is your payment for the tutoring. My gift, y'know?”

If there was one thing you noticed from that moment, it was that Hoshi kissed a lot like you'd expected. Focused, but messy. “Are you enjoying this? Are you alright with this?” He asked in between kisses. You nodded, unable to form words.

Suddenly, you were snapped out of heaven he brought you to. “Is that your phone ringing?”

You check the number on your phone. Your mother. “Shit, I'm screwed.” You inhale and wipe your mouth before answering, “Hi mom..!”

“Why aren't you at school right now?” You had two options: 

A - Tell your mom you were making out with a boy that has a 1.6 GPA and is on the verge of being held back.

B - Lie.

As any good child did, you lied. “Sorry mom, a friend outside of school asked me to tutor them so I'm at their place right now! This was the only time I could've tutored them!”

Hoshi looked at you with a proud grin. “Alright, you're not doing that again, got it?”

“Yes ma'am,” You finished, hanging up the phone.

“Woah, we have a little rule breaker over here!”

“Oh shut it! This is your fault, Soonyoung!”

[lilacprincess7]

"Hand on my forehead"

summary: in which reader suffers through her period but Hector is there to help her out and make her feel better.

warnings: rushed af, not proff-read enough

a/n: @universefcb this is for u babe 💕💕

It was once again that time of the month. That time that you could barely get out of bed and with every move you wanted to scream because of the pain. It was even worse since it was the first period you got after moving in with your boyfriend, Hector and you didn't want him to see you like this.

Early in the morning he had left for training with the team so you had the house to yourself. You had canceled everything for the day, called in sick at work, told your friends you were feeling under the weather and tried to remain calm.

You had taken ibuprofen when you woke up and even though that was hardly two hours ago, here you were, trying and failing to cope with the pain.

At that moment you heard the front door opening and realized your boyfriend was back. Why was he back so earlly though? He was supposed to be back in like, another three hours or something. Even though it was the end of the season and they were already champions, their coach wanted them to actually play the match and your boyfriend was on the stating XI for the match on Sunday.

"Amorr" he said relieved at seeing you

You responded with a quiet 'hey', not having the energy to talk more.

"Are you okay? I was worried, why didn't you respond to my texts?"

"I'm not feeling too well... it's that time of the month" you expressed muttering.

He gave you a kiss on the forehead and typed something on his phone. He changed clothes and turned to you.

"Fortunately for you, amor, you have the best medicine to ever exist right here..." he said teasing a bit, trying to make you smile

"Hmm and what's that?"

"Me obviously. I'll be your personal pillow for the day as well-" he was cut off by the bell ringing.

"Are we waiting for someone?" you asked quietly

"Yes amor, I asked Gavi to bring me some stuff.." he respondd quietly "You'll see in a moment"

He went downstairs. You heard him opening the door and talking with his friend. Then you heard him mesing around in the kitchen and then... then he stood infront of you, tray in hand.

The tray he was holding had all your favorite baked goods. Croissants, pastries, sweets.

"Where did you get all that?" you were amazed by how gentle and caring your boyfriend always was.

"Gavi! These are the things he was getting for me!" he said witha a smile and sat by your side on the bed. He went on to feed you and help you drink water.

"So, hmm I have an idea. I remember how you told me that you must stay hydrated during your period.."

"Yes go on"

"Water in most cases, at least for us pro athletes, is never enough to actually hydrate you. That's why we drink all those suplements and stuff"

"Okay.."

"The point is that I think it would be good for you if you tried drinking some kind of energy drink with electrolytes, it could lower the pain that you experience.."

"Amor, it's a good idea, but we don't have any" you said breathing softly while he played with your hair

"We do though. I have some of the ones I drink, I'm gonna go get one okay? You need anything else from downstairs baby?"

"No guapo, thank you"

"No need to thank me princessa, just doing my job" he replied smiling

In a heartbeat he was back with a glass on one hand and the energy drink on the other.

"I didn't pour the whole think in the glass. I blended it with some water so it's lighter. You haven't had an energy drink in a while and I wanna be sure it doesn't cause you tachicardia or something" at this point you were melting.

Yes you did know how caring he always was but this was so nice of him. He even thought ahead and made it so the drink wouldn't cause you any trouble. He was so caring towards you it always got you blushing.

"Anything else you need amor before I lie down?"

"Nope, just my human pillow"

"That is something you will always have hermosa. You are entitled to ask for everything and I'll obey your wishes. If using my body as a pillow and a personal heater is said wish I benefit as well." he replied, love dancing in his deep brown eyes.

He ended up spooning you, his head in the crook of your neck. You suddenly flinched from the pain. It was like someone was twisting a knife through your belly and it hurt like hell. Hector was immediately worried.

"Baby, tell me what do you need, how can I help?"

"Hmm... it just hurts so badd, I want it to stop, ahh.."

He was anxious and didn't know what to do. You couldn't take more medicine for now and a heater never really helped you. Carefully, as not to disturb you, he slipped his hand inside your -his- hoodie.

"Hmm what are you doin'?"

"Shh hermosa, try to sleep okay? I'm here and I ain't going anywhere."

He wrapped both of you in a fluffy blanket and ran his hands through your hair in a soothing manner. He drawed shapes on your skin and massaged your back with his slender fingers, easing your pain.

It didn't take long for you to fall asleep. You felt so calm and protected in his arms. The pain you felt earlier became numb as the time passed.

The truth is that you really had the best medicine ever. He was so careful, so concerned and worried, so giving and caring. You couldn't imagine your life without him in it and the feeling was reciprocated. He couldn't breathe without you. You were his entire world and in your presence he felt at home. So to see his home -you- in such a painful state had his heart cracking and his hands shaking. Having you in his arms made him feel complete and helpful.

You passed the rest of the day snoozing with him as your pillow, like he promised. He made you popcorn and the two of you watched a movie, you played a bit on his ps5 to get your mind of the pain, he cooked you lunch and dinner too.

He took care of you and treated you like a queen, as he always did really. For the next couple of days he helped you get through your day. Ran you baths, braided your hair, helped you with your skin and hair care routines, cooked for you massaged you. He was amazing at taking care of you and you always flt the need o thank him. He always responded to you much the same:

"That's my job amor. Taking care of you is my top priority and will always be. You are the love of my life and I'll do everything for you. All you have to do is ask..." even though you mostly didn't have to do that either, he just knew when you needed him, like he was telepathetic and could read your mind. In reality, he just knew you, the real you.

a/n: thoughts?

[borfungus]

HI I really like your tangible form designs for the Expressions and the Universe! The Universe especially I thought was really cool with the multiple arms reaching from the void, they really do look godly, like from Hindu mythology! If you have more to share about your designs I'd love to know :)

I tried to keep this short. I failed! MAJOR isat (and also, Slay the Princess) spoilers ahead!!

The Universe-

I have a couple paintings I've done so far featuring 'The Universe' as several disembodied blue hands coming from the void (here and here cw for blood on the first one!)

I took the phrase 'The Universe leads, we can only follow' rather literally! The Universe is an outstretched hand, The Universe is a tight grip, The Universe pushes and shoves and leads and holds.

The phrase "A wish in one hand, dirt in the other" also came to mind! Basically, wishing can only do so much, and you need to apply practical action to reach your goals. There's somewhat of a double meaning if you apply this idiom to Wish Craft. Intention is important, yes (for example, all of Dormont wishing for Vaugarde to be saved), but Siffrin's wish had the power to set off the events of the game because he knew the correct ritual/actions. Also, Siffrin's wish gave them the ability to get what they wanted (to stay with their family), but their lack of action (telling them about the loops) kept them stuck. His Wish was just not enough. And so, this paragraph about an old idiom basically to explain that I picture the Universe holding the Wishes in it's hand, taking the leaves wished on, throwing the shooting stars, and taking the wishes to where they need to go for the wish to be fulfilled.

And it's TOTALLYYY not because I finished Slay The Princess a few weeks ago and saw parallels between The Shifting Mound and the Universe....and I also just liked her design with the arms...thats TOTALLY not the reason (it's at least, not the ONLY reason! Everything above is also true!)

I have to be completely honest now, I totally didn't even think of the Hindu god connection. I will have to do more reading/research on that because I don't want to inadvertently draw something too similar to that (I am so white! I don't know anything about it! It's not really my place to!) without being properly informed!! Thank you for bringing that up lol!

The Expressions - ok this is a lot

This one is based on some Odile dialogue!! (thank you ISAT Script Project thank you thank you) That post was the first time I had drawn The Expressions as a tangible being, but I had the idea clunkin around in my head for a while after I finished the first Universe painting. We know like so little about The Expressions, so I'm going off of these Odile lines;

{ID: Odile: Well... in Ka Bue, you'd burn the body and take the ashes to a Gemmaker to transform them into a diamond, but that won't be easily feasible, will it...}

Gems seem to be pretty important in Ka Bue culture, and I'm making the logical leap that different gems have different meanings. Diamonds seem to be related to rememberance, grief, death, end of life, etc. You're made into a diamond when you die, and this is important enough that there is an entire profession surround it. SO basically- Gems = Important

guess who's about to make another logical leap! ! ME

{ID: Odile: GEMS ALIVE, Isabeau}

We giggle and goof and laugh about crab and stars and crabbing and blinding but I don't see! a lot of people talk about the Ka Bue explitive gems! Each of the 3 country's choice swear ties back to their religion. Crab being a reference to carsinisation/carsinization (Everything becomes a crab, and it seems to be against the Change belief for everyone to be the same) , The Universe religion is all about Space and Stars and the Space between us etc etc, and we've already established gems are important in Ka Bue culture! This is potentially a fun Ka Bue version of "Sakes alive!", which is sort of like "For God's sake" / "Goodness sake". It's funny but, what if, we take it a little too seriously hmmm? What if, in Ka Bue, they really do consider, Gems to be Alive? Isn't it quite interesting how they are then turned into diamonds at death? Is it the belief that people's Spirits continue to live on in diamonds?

I can't find the specific dialogue about there being thousands of Expressions, but Odile explains that there are Expressions for everything, and you can choose which ones you want to pray for at a time. Odile has a few she mentions she prays to - "The Expression of Search, the Expression of Writing, the Expression of Creator Craft, and lately, the Expressions of Battle and Victory" I belieeeeve the gems Odile wears on her glasses are the Ka Bue way to Pray to the Expressions. It seems like gems are the connection between humans and divinity in Ka Bue, I'm going to make the assumption these are NOT diamonds, I'm not sure Odile would wear the remains of someone as,,, an accessory. That doesn't seem like her

So different types of Gems, are potentially, connected to different Expressions? What if each Expression is represented by a specific Gemstone? (In real life, there are only like 300 types of gemstones, but, but, but MAYBE!! The CUT!!! Is also PART OF IT! ok)

So each Expression is represented by a different Cut and Color of Gemstone. I'm going to connect these Point Cut Quartz? to the Expression of Creator Craft. It's the same shape!! As the gem decal!! on her book!

So ALL OF THAT TO SAY OMFG, that is why I made em different Gemstone types and cuts. Each individual gem is an Expression.

(also, i tried to tie it to Expressionism as an art movement, but I think I didn't do such a good job at that.)

THAT WAS SO LONG!!! I got carried away! hope that answers that LOL

[inmedicalres]

Flight

Rezi became a pilot because she could. She stayed because nothing in human life could compare to being a dragon in flight.

That was on the good days. On the bad ones, there was Griswold.

Griswold had twenty-seven names, each one from a different century in which his power and his magic had made him some variant on The Terror of the Skies. Griswold had grown enormous on magic, and then the day came that magic failed.

Now Griswold Oa’Manth Emon-Raut, the Stone that Holds the Mountain, the One Who Flies Most Often, the Scourge of Trains, the Nightmare relied on pilots.

Relied on Rezi, specifically.

It wasn’t fair. The pilot who had previously flown Griswold had retired, and Rezi had been new in the ranks, and that was how it happened. Griswold should have gone to an older, more experienced pilot, but none of them wanted him and had explained that taking on more than you could possibly handle was how you became older and more experienced.

Unless the goddamn dragon fought you too hard and the mass of bitter lizard pride crashed you and your entire crew out of the sky. Dragons were meant to fly, but at some point their magic failed and the laws of physics took hold. Humans had designed machines that could bring them back to the sky, and with the funding of hoards, the technology was only getting better.

But while dozens of people kept pistons greased and braces bolstered, the entire endeavor hinged on the psychic pilot to suppress the dragon’s reflexes. In an ancient dragon, the frontal lobe could be ten yards from the brainstem. It took a signal milliseconds to travel that far, and in that time, an instinctive tail flick could take out an entire wing support.

And God forbid you survive the crash, because the Parliament of Dragons would hold you accountable, and you’d spend the next thirty years of your life answering for a moment of being just a little too tired, a little too frustrated.

So Rezi stayed on high-alert when she was tuned in to Griswold. Not that the Dragon Parliament had any great love of him, either, but if they wanted to live unnaturally long lives, it meant Griswold got to, too. Griswold was the size of a town square, and he hated pilots. 

You again, came the low rumble inside Rezi’s head. His voice was like stones cascading down a mountainside. 

The cockpit was a small, leather-clad chamber between the dragon’s brows. The sloping expanse of Griswold’s snout spread out before her like a sledding hill, pebbled with oily purple scales. At the base of the snout stood nostrils the size of carriages. Beyond that, the ridge of the upper lip. And beyond that — Rezi shook her head. It wasn’t a good idea to think too much about the teeth. 

Greetings, Fair and Mighty Griswold, replied Rezi. Shall we take to the skies today?

A rush of air that could blow over a house erupted from Griswold’s snout. 

What else would I come here for?

She readied herself for the plunge into Griswold’s brainstem. It hurt him just as much as it hurt her, and that was what was so awful about being entwined in a dragon’s brain. Everything you did to them, they did to you. She punctured through his mind, feeling his own rage and pain as she forced her way to the brainstem and settled over the physical reflexes. 

“Ready for launch?” came a voice through her headset. 

“Ready,” she replied. But she was never ready for Griswold.

On the back of the ancient dragon, pistons began firing. Braces gripped the torso, granting anchors to the wings. A dozen humans ran back and forth, tending to the light-weight mechanisms that had to keep a mountain in the air.

I was once so much more than this, came Griswold’s voice. Rezi tried to shut it out. His tail yearned to remove the fleas from his back, and it took most of her concentration to suppress the damn thing. She knew other pilots saw their connection in different ways. For her, she imagined herself walking inside the dragon’s skull, phasing in and out of the anatomy to get where she needed to go. It didn’t matter that it didn’t quite work like that. It was just how it made sense to her. Griswold’s brainstem was made of barbed thorns that fought back when she tried to grab them.

It wasn’t like this with other dragons. Other dragons welcomed pilots, granted them space in their mind, took the insertion peacefully and even tried to help.

As they launched into the air, a wall of regret and pain slammed into Rezi’s mind. The problem with being psychic was that you were psychic for all of it. Somehow, other pilots could shut out the emotions that screamed through their dragons’ minds, but flying Griswold was having your heart ripped out again and again, rage against the cruel, fickle ways of magic, painful joy as fresh gusts of air moved through your wings, bone-deep shame that the disgusting little monkey on your head had to control your body for you, fantasies of ruling the sky once more, laying waste to the flight academy, taking back your place as a thing to be feared and mighty

—Keeping the goddamn tail streamlined, keep it away from us, he’d kill us all— 

The itch on the wings! The itch and the shame and the bastards that did this to you, you did not used to be broken, you used to be whole, and when you were whole not one of these bald monkeys would have dared to imagine they could rip their way into your mind, control your own body for you, you were king

—Keep his goddamn tail straight or you’re going to have to lock him out of here entirely— 

Ha! As though you could! As though you had the right!

If you please, your graciousness, I must delve a little deeper.

Before he could give a response, Rezi plunged from the surface of the brainstem into the roots. She grabbed the nerves to the tail tight in her psychic fists and squeezed, killing off the signals that threatened to crash them. She felt Griswold howl in pain but kept her grip tight, trying to shut out the threats of death and dismemberment that ripped into her brain.

After a small eternity, they landed. Rezi shakily resurfaced into her body.

Ever a pleasure to be some small part of your greatness, she managed.

Get off of me, came the stony response.

“No one makes you do this,” muttered Rezi. Ensconced between the dragon’s eyes, her voice was too soft for his distant ears to hear. “You could just fucking die.”

-

Rezi came back to her bunk at the base and collapsed on the floor. It would be another month before Griswold needed to fly again. But he’d need to fly again. He always needed to fly again. 

Adam walked by her room and stopped. He looked at her on the floor. “Griswold again?”

“He’s the fucking worst,” groaned Rezi. “And I hate saying that. It’s supposed to be an honor to work with his greatness, yadda yadda. I get to help keep one of the ancient wonders of the world alive.”

“But you fucking hate it.”

“I fucking hate him.”

Adam sat down on the floor next to her. “You only sound like this after flying Griswold. You’re Squishy McGee for everyone else.”

“Everyone else seems to understand that I’m there to help. Griswold acts like I’m the reason he can’t fly anymore.”

“You’ve been trying to shut him out?”

“YES,” growled Rezi. “I try, and I try, and I can’t do it.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” said Adam.

“I know it’s the problem, everyone keeps telling me it’s the problem.”

“No, I mean — maybe you have to stop shutting him out. Every time you tell me about a good flight, it’s one where you and the dragon get hella entangled and unified and shit. Maybe Griswold’s exhausting because you keep trying not to do that.”

“I don’t want to be hella entangled and unified with a mind that hates me and wants to sear the flesh from my bones.”

“Yeah, I feel that,” said Adam. “I dunno. I just hate seeing you like this. You’re a good pilot. Don’t forget that.”

“That’s very kind of you,” said Rezi.

Adam laughed. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a dragon. I know when you don’t mean what you’re saying.”

“I don’t feel like a good pilot,” said Rezi. “I literally muttered to myself that he should just die.”

“You’re human, and he sucks,” said Adam. “You’re still a good pilot. Come on, let’s go eat.”

“I don’t want to eat.”

“I will grab you by the brainstem, so help me God.”

“Rude,” said Rezi, and stood up. She knew he was only joking — a psychic never used their powers that way, it would be hugely invasive and a fucking crime.

-

A month passed. A little calendar in Rezi’s head kept silent, dreading count of how long she had until she had to fly Griswold again. Despite Adam’s words, she couldn’t shake that it was wrong to pilot a dragon you wished were dead. 

She didn’t have to take to the cockpit until late afternoon. It would take nearly twelve hours to set up the mechanisms that would allow Griswold to fly, and that wasn’t her job. But she woke up at three in the morning anyway and went to the broad, misty meadow where the dragon lay sullenly. The techs were just getting the harness onto him, and he snarled at them intermittently.

Lord of Terror, the Nightmare that Never Ends? It is I, your pilot.

The dragon turned his head to look at her, and his voice was surprised. To what do I owe this early-morning pleasure? I had thought pilots treasured their sleep. 

We do, replied Rezi. But our flights have been…fraught. And I think I must be failing you.

Griswold snorted. We rise into the sky. We land again. I live. 

But you fight me. I feel how you feel. I feel your rage. I feel your hatred. I…I would like things to be different, if they could. 

The dragon let out a laugh like a sudden downpour. Go home. We do not need to speak more.

Please. Most dragons love to fly. You hate it. Why? Why bother?

There was long silence, but Rezi could feel the contempt emanating from him as he put his words together.

I do not hate to fly, he said, slowly. But would you like to know what I hate?

Rezi felt her heart pounding in her chest. Yes, she thought.

Never once has it occurred to you that I feel what you feel, too.

Rezi felt her heart stop beating.

You look at me as a thing. A series of reflexes to be suppressed. Pain to be ignored. You ransack my mind with a passing pleasantry that you resent even having to make. You speak kind words because it is expected of you, because you have been taught that dragons respond well to flattery. Your words mean nothing, and I feel your thoughts when you are struggling against me. You respect nothing about me. You violate me. And you wish that I would die and leave you be. Tell me, why should I enjoy the indignity it takes to live?

Rezi had nothing to say. If you want another pilot—,

No need. They are all like you.

A wall of shame crashed down on her that was entirely her own.

I’m so sorry, she said.

Curious, came Griswold’s voice. You mean it.

-

When she strapped herself into the cockpit, she could barely bring herself to make the connection. 

Lord of the Skies, do you wish to fly today?

I do not wish to fly anymore. But I must. 

…Would you like my help?

I would not. But I will accept it. 

I am asking entry to your mind. Will you grant it?

If I say no?

Then I would leave.

Then I suppose I have no choice.

She kept her mind more open as she entered. It was painful. He was gasping for breath, how had she never noticed that before? The lack of oxygen was like a hunger eating at the edges of every thought. 

He noticed her noticing. There was a wry twist to his words, but they were not cruel.

You have been here many times. This is the first you have felt what is like to be without air?

We’re not supposed to connect too deeply. It makes it hard to concentrate. We can’t fly if we’re both suffocating.

Were you not chosen for this task specifically because you can connect in such a way?

We’re trained out of it. It’s amateurish. Dangerous.

You were taught to ignore pain?

We have to. It hurts you when we enter your mind, it hurts you when we control your reflexes. If it means saving our lives and yours, we can’t be afraid to hurt you.

Griswold’s mind rippled with wordless resentment. 

It doesn’t have to be like this, thought Rezi. If you invite me in, make space for me — it doesn’t have to hurt so much.

There was a time that a monkey like you would never have even dared approach me.

I know, said Rezi. But you came to us.

It was the wrong thing to say. The rage roiled out of Griswold’s mind like a forest fire. 

To stay alive! I am coerced by Death! No other force could bring me here.

Everyone dies eventually, thought Rezi.

Suddenly, the harsh oxygen hunger bit into Rezi’s own lungs. Unbidden, she felt the dread and fear of what it would mean to let it take over. The long, slow death of hunger, lungs burning to death.

You’re not scared of dying, she realized. You’re scared of suffocating to death.

Obviously.

But — it doesn’t have to be like that. No one dies that way anymore. I can turn off your reflexes — I can turn off the hunger for air.

The dragon’s mind was silent.

Prove it, he said.

You’ll have to let me in deep, said Rezi. It might hurt.

You may try.

Rezi found her way to the brain stem. It wasn’t hard to find the part that was causing the air-hunger; palpable pain came from it in waves. Approaching it was difficult, as her own lungs clamored for her to breathe. 

She laid her hands on the screaming neurons. They were cold and smooth as steel, biting as though it were a winter’s day. She reached inside her own chest and found her own calm and her own breath. She closed her fingers around the vibrating nerves and willed them to still.

Clear, clean relief flooded around her. It hit her hard in the chest, euphoric.

We can fly if you want to, whispered Rezi. But you don’t have to. You get to choose.

I wouldn’t have to wear the harness. I wouldn’t have to feel the itch and thrum of those terrible machines.

Never again. Not if you don’t want to. 

I would choose this, thought Griswold. You can promise me there will be no pain?

Pain is a reflex. Reflexes are what I do. I can give the word right now and we’ll stop gearing you up for flight. 

Do it. A pause. You will stay with me?

Rezi hesitated. I can’t do it alone. It will take months to die this way. It will have to be done in shifts. But I will be one of the pilots, yes. 

I want no one but you.

I can’t do that. But I will be one of them, I promise.

…Compromise. Even in death, I am made to compromise. There was a time no man would ask me to do such a thing.

Time makes bitches of us all, sir.

The dragon’s laughter rattled her chest.

I like your true voice. Very well. It will be as you say. 

And it was. It took slow months. Long months. Effort and time, soaking in the dragon’s thoughts and regret as his mind slowed and drifted. The scream for oxygen, though, was silent. And for that, Rezi found she had endless energy. They made her take breaks, and she took them, because it wasn’t healthy to be so entwined with a dying creature. But whenever she started to falter, she would take in deep pulls of Griswold’s gratitude and relief, his delight at no longer feeling short of breath. It was better than flight. It was exhausting, physically and mentally. She slept hard in her bunk and forced herself to eat. Adam worried about her.

She wasn’t there when he died. No one could predict when exactly the moment would come, and she’d been on one of her mandatory breaks at the time. But when she came to his body, the pilot there nodded silently and let her have the cockpit to herself.

When she returned to her bunk, Adam found her.

“Told you you were a good pilot,” he said.

“Joke’s on you,” she replied. “I wanted him dead, and he fucking died.”

“That’s why I don’t get on your bad side.”

There would be another flight tomorrow. 

[in-silver-lake]

party on you

synopsis: you felt like your world stopped. billie, though, she had no problem just moving on. cw: angst, breakup, no happy ending, college au a/n: this is mostly inspired by party 4 u by charli xcx - i just realised that the way she looped it at the end meant u could hear it as "party on you" or "you party on". i mean wtaf.

i remember that night like it was yesterday: the hot sting of my angry tears, the shake in my hands, the bite of the cold, frigid winter air. i remember the horrifyingly blank look on her face, how crushingly impersonal and carelessly she upended my world with eight simple words: i dont think i can do this anymore. as if we hadn’t just shared the last ten months of our lives together, as if i hadn’t bared my soul to her, whispered thoughts that only live in the darkest corners of my mind, trusted her with my body, as if i hadn’t slept one night without an i love you, goodnight. 

in hindsight, the signs were there. the distance that crept up, that started growing between us, the way she would sound irritated when i called her, as if me trying to talk and find out about her day was a bother. she started to see me less and less, always telling me she was busy, that she was seeing her friends, that she was tired and didn’t feel like it. when we did see each other, it was awkward, my attempts at connecting with her blocked by this invisible wall she had put up, her disinterest and growing indifference like a knife to my chest. whenever i tried to ask her if everything was okay, she would dismiss me, huffing in annoyance as if my love, my care for her was a burden. it all came to a head one night in august, the weather strangely cold for that time of year, penetrating through to my bones as i stood on her doorstep, desperate to see her. the blankness behind her eyes, the indifference on her face as i cried, as she told me that i was too much, too clingy, that she couldn’t handle this relationship anymore, hitting my deep in my chest. 

it had been two weeks since, and for every moment of those two weeks i felt as if i was sleepwalking, going through the motions, not feeling or thinking much of anything except for a deep ache in my chest, constantly obsessing over what i did wrong.

my friends, in a well-meaning attempt to cheer me up, get me out of my head, dragged me to a party. i felt detached from myself as they dressed me, did my makeup, grinning as they laughed amongst one another, eyes light, unburdened, as they told me how pretty i looked. they were speaking, playing music, but i couldn’t hear any of it, smiling and forcing a laugh when they starting giggling at something. 

i stood in the corner of some stranger’s kitchen, the dark room broken up only by scattered neon light. i had a red cup in my hand, shoved there by one of my friends, the smell of something strong wafting up and burning my nose. i hadn’t taken a single sip. my dress felt entirely too tight, my makeup too heavy, and the dense, claustrophobic press of bodies in the crowded space was making my skin crawl. i was cornered by my friends, most of them well on their way to being drunk, their voices grating and too loud, pathetically failing in my attempt to seem normal, happy, relaxed. my eyes swept the room, taking in the drunk, sweaty faces of college students who had grasped the opportunity to loosen up, but then-

there she was. in the middle of the room, like i was seeing a ghost. her sleek, black hair was held back by a black-and-white patterned bandana, a loose, long-sleeve jersey hanging off her frame, my eyes drawn to her like a compass is drawn to true north as she radiated an easy, confident energy that was so distinctly billie. 

but there she was. kissing another girl. hands smoothing over long, shiny blonde hair, over tight, black fabric, gripping the outside of her thigh, her neck, her cheek, the girl eagerly reciprocating with her own roaming touch. their tongues clashing as they made out, right there, right in front of me. 

everything around me seemed to go still, and all i could see was them, her, as i heard our last argument play over and over again in my head, like someone had turned the volume up on the memory that had been haunting me since it happened. i couldn’t breathe, i couldn’t move, feet planted to the spot. i had tunnel vision, unable to tear my eyes away, even as my vision grew hazy with tears. as if she could feel my gaze, billie looked up, the girl tilting her head to continue kissing her neck. for the briefest moment, i thought i saw a flicker of guilt in billie’s eyes, but i forced myself to tear my eyes away from hers. i ignored everything in me that told me to stay where i was, if nothing else just to be in her presence, and walked away. 

out the door, down the street, away from her, away from her life.

just like she wanted.

[myrmica]

top 5 vitalasy moments in your opinion?

DIFFICULT to choose. especially in a way that isn't like, cheating and trying to describe huge swaths of s4 as "moments." i say that but i'm probably still going to do that. whatever. hmm.... hmmmmm

1 . monster numero uno FOREVER. all my clips from this vod are broken but really just the whole thing. some of the other late s4 vitalasy moments could maybe compete with it for me on a personal level but monster is the first stream i showed ford trying to get him to understand why i gave a fuck about lifesteal and it worked. so. it's just something so specific… you don't really get to see vitalasy commit to doing something like this with the same level of gravitas anywhere else. and it's fascinating to watch without the context vs. with full context of s4 to see how someone's perception of what's happening changes.

a runner up related to this is i could visit him because what if you had been able to follow through on THAT.

2. this is a surprise to nobody but the specific part of the wormhole confrontation where he's physically digging zam into a pit with charged creeper explosions, repeatedly popping her totems, pushing her back in when she tries to swim out.

3. vitalasy in the last team awesome meeting is one of my favorite scenes in season 4, but it's hard to distill into singular clips so i'll also give you right after he's been revived at the beginning of deliverance while subz is dragging him around the server. people talk about deliverance proper a lot but i'm obsessed with his petulant misery. this entire period after he's revived but before he's processed things and come around to still being excited for wormhole where everything sucks so fucking bad. ❤️

4. i think about this one from s3 (this vod if you want further context) a lot because it's this weird moment of completely coincidental foreshadowing… the idea of zam creating a rift between vitalasy & subz. vitalasy behaving this way forever. zam eternally kind of freaked out and disarmed by his melodramatics.

5. his whole early-mid? s5 situation. he keeps thinking, "hmmm… i feel like i'm nothing but a disadvantage to my own teammates right now. that's bad." and then failing to do anything about it. in part because he does try and it just doesn't work, in part because he's got one foot out the door, but equally because he Likes to inconvenience you. he wants you to lovingly put up with him. he wants a specific kind of relationship but nothing is working, he's trying really hard with jumper but everything is still weird, subz is leaving, zam won't talk to him. the entire server dealing with post s4 weirdness... how sharp his turn away from godhood towards making himself as small and weak as possible is. it can't all be circumstance because 1) he's always at least kind of like this, and 2) when he's just messing around and having fun in s5 he's playing into his own vulnerability, making jumper scramble to protect him because it's funny, freaking chat out, etc. to some degree i think how little vitalasy enjoys the god role in s4 comes down to it preventing him from being able to play this kind of role. and zam's anxieties preventing him (& subz both) from playing the counter protector role for Her to make up for it.

the reason i don't just zero in on the vz reunion stream for early s5 even though it's a really interesting moment is because it requires that larger context. reunion is vitalasy being hypocritical (as per usual) and grasping towards something he is never really going to commit himself to as a power play (as per usual), and trying to hurt zam. it ends up reading like one last attempt at doing lifesteal right, making something happen, seeking respect & power & revenge on the expected terms. which is kind of the same thing that Zam is doing in early s5, to a much greater extent than vitalasy is. i like that he does it by way of pretending he's not doing that going in, again playing on his own weakness. but the thing he's pretending about is the thing that's realer. the two of them have course corrected themselves in the same direction here, they're both trying to perform something to protect themselves and nothing feels right. watch the s5 reunion and at all costs back to back it's crazy. also just constantly amused by this coming from the guy who refuses to put armor on.

6. is it enough?

and number 7. whenever he makes noises

[ashlinxsloves]

Hi! Can you please write headcanons for Erik, Charles, Logan, Hank, Peter, and Kurt crushing on reader who has powers like Bella from twilight and Aizawa from my hero academia anime? And also how they will react when they get jealous after seeing her getting close with some other guy.

If you don't know them, then their powers are these: Aizawa has a power that allows him to nullify/disable his opponents' powers by simply looking at them. And Bella has the ability to create a shield around her or others from her mind that protects her from mind reading, attacks etc. Thanks ❤️

Hi anon 👋! Of course, I can! Also, I am so, so, so, so, SO SORRY for not answering this ask for such a long time 😭😭😭 I've had it finished for a while but I just didn't have time to write it down digitally. Also, some of the ages differ because of the timelines– but I hope it's understandable between each of the headcanons!

Okay, so Charles. He tends to keep his thoughts and behaviour quite aligned, but miserably fails

At first, he was pretty in denial about thinking he had a crush on you. But when Hank mentioned it, Charles knew he had caught feelings.

It made him kind of nervous, not being able to read your thoughts at all and not knowing how you thought of him unless you let him into your head by disengaging your shield. Other than that, he was pretty much left in the dark.

So, he'd spend more time with you, trying to get to know you better as a person, and note down your interests, along with your dislikes.

He makes time for you, even if he's got a busy schedule. Will make you tea and play a round of chess or checkers with you.

Charles seems more flustered more easily when you're around. His heart practically melts, and he loses all of the air in his lungs when you smile. (He doesn't show it on the outside, though)

He gets teased by Erik and Logan a lot.

"It's kinda obvious, professor." "Yeah, I'm shocked they hadn't picked up on it yet. You follow them around like a lost puppy, Charles." "I do not! Stop this nonsense. It is merely a crush." "Uh huh.. keep tellin' ya self that, bub."

When he finally decided to confess his feelings, it was late and everybody was already in their quarters. Charles called you to his office, suggesting a chess match.

"Isn't it a bit late for a game, Professor?" "Please, call me Charles. And it's never too late for a round or two. How about we make a small bet? You win one round and I'll let you go back to your room.. but if I win..." "But if you win?" "You'll let me take you out for dinner."

You bit your lip, thinking about it for a quick second before agreeing. You had nothing to lose and dinner with Charles did seem delightful.

On the outside, Charles was calm and seemed to have everything under control, but on the inside, he was a train wreck. He couldn't hear your thoughts, so he didn't really know what you were thinking. On the other hand, you agreed on the wager. He just hoped he'd win like every other game you played with him.

But to his dismay, Charles somehow lost, clearly having been occupied with his thoughts rather than the game. You had won fair and square, so he smiled softly and let you leave.

Before you left, though, you smiled at him and spoke, "I know I won, but dinner sounds great Prof– I mean– Charles."

That left him speechless, but at the same time, he was ecstatic about you wanting to go out with him.

Would deny it. Just outright say no and that's the end of it.

In truth, he just doesn't trust himself with his feelings and he's scared that he might hurt you.

Obviously, he just pines for you, watching as you talk to other men without doing anything about it.

However, he does mutter under his breath, and Charles shakes his head whilst watching his friend.

But when he does end up being around you, he tries his best to be polite and distant which leads you to think that Erik dislikes you.

And so you end up trying to win him over and try to befriend him which was exactly the exact opposite of what he wanted.

He ends up getting closer to you anyway. Erik learned about your hobbies, what made you tick and your views on the world.

You seemed to keep him more grounded than anyone else could. Erik liked your company more and more every day. You were like a magnet that pulled him towards you. (No pun intended)

Erik, being Erik, knew that all of this was a means to an end and tried his best to distance himself away from you once again.

That hurt you more than you'd like to admit, especially when you overheard his conversation with Charles about specifically not pairing you up with him.

"Charles, it doesn't matter. I.. I just want you to understand my wishes on this matter. I don't want them near me, alright?"

As much as those words hurt, it made you even more determined to get him to like you again.

And boy did it mess with his brain. Erik knew better. He knew he should stay away from you, but goddammit if his feelings weren't stronger than his logical thinking.

So, he did the second best thing– talk to Xavier about it. If he couldn't trust himself to deal with this, he'll just talk his friend's ear out.

To his annoyance, Charles had decided to be that "bitch" and advised Erik to just confess. He knew it would help and it would either go right or terribly wrong.

He feared that the prior might happen, and what if it did go right and you accepted his feelings? What then?

Deciding to sleep on it, he would think of a solution to his "predicament". He always did.

So like any man would do, he buried those feelings by making you hate him.

It sure as hell pissed Charles off when he found out that Erik hurt you this way, but it only made you confused and angry for answers, leading to a heated argument between you and the stubborn, metal-controlling mutant.

"Why do you want me to hate you so badly?" "Because I want you to stay away from me–" "Then tell me why you want me to–" "Because I'm in love with you and I don't know what to do about it, alright?! There, I said it!"

His outburst left you speechless, looking at him with wide eyes. It seemed like the whole world stopped spinning for a moment before you impulsively pulled him towards you and kissed him like it was the last thing you were gonna do.

Erik's body froze for a solid minute, but he let all his defenses down for once and kissed you back with the same amount of passion.

Grump, will not admit he has a crush on you.

He respects you and shows it well, giving you a knowing nod.

When someone asks if you're single though, he'll growl and glare from behind you, scaring off the potential suitor.

That's when you started wondering why every guy in your vicinity avoided you like the plague.

You weren't oblivious or stupid, knowing the reason was the grumpy honey badger following you around the school.

So, you decided to confront Logan, asking him why he stuck close to you so often.

"No reason, bub." "Uh-huh.."

That was the only thing you got out of him. Logan was a stubborn prick when it came to feelings and knew that well.

In the course of the next few weeks, Logan kept following you around, being your partner on missions or during student training, making you really wonder why he was doing this.

When you decided to consult Charles about it, he shrugged, smiling at you aa he just said something about a bond tying you to Logan.

On Logan's side though, he was frustrated at this gnawing feeling in his chest, not knowing why he couldn’t stop following you around or glaring at the people who tried to make a move on you.

Hank called him territorial which made Logan scoff and shake his head, dismissing the idea.

You were just more tolerable than the rest of the other people around.

"Logan, you've got a crush on them." "I do not, Scott." "You're in denial, aren't you?" "Fuck off and shut your pretty boy mouth before I claw your car."

That's when Logan finally gave up, grumbling and brooding for the rest of the day, thinking hard about his feelings towards you.

He faced his feelings and got to terms with it about four days later when he saw you talking and laughing with some other guy, jealousy taking over him and walked towards you and before you knew it, you were being carried over Logan's shoulder.

You were taken by surprise, scoffing and hitting Logan's back, demanding he put you down.

"No." "No? Logan, put me down. Now." "No, bub."

He only put you down once you stopped hitting him and the two of you were in a more private area.

"Why the hell did you do that?" "..." "Logan." "..." "Lo, you don't get to do that–" "Listen." "You weren't saying anything–" "Here." "What?"

He pulled you closer, pressing the side your head to his chest, feeling and hearing how fast his heart was beating.

"This. This is what you do to me. I can't explain it and it's been pissing me off– but seeing you laughing because of some other prick doesn't sit right with me." "Are.. arèyou saying that–" "Yes." "I didn't even–" "Bub. I'm not good at expressing my feelings but I'm sure that I feel something for you. And it's more than just a silly crush."

Oh boy, Hank is just full-out shy and gets flustered when he realizes he had feelings for you.

Tumbles upon his words, face is tomato red, and he RAMBLES.

Would randomly ask you about the things you like out of nowhere.

Lets you hang around the lab area with him while he works.

Would know your favourite drink/snack and give it to you when you're on break.

You'd find flowers made from paper on your desk with a small letter with Hank's recognizable handwriting on it.

He's pretty obvious about his feelings and he wouldn't even try to lie to you if you asked him about it.

Always excited to see you, and smiles when you wave at him or hug him as a greeting.

When he confessed, it was all accidental.

He was exhausted after a mission and was still in his beast form, hanging around with you in your room.

You were reading a book whilst petting Hank's fur and he muttered a soft 'I'm in love with you'.

"Wh–what? Could you repeat that, Hank?" "Mm..? I said I'm in lov–oh.."

He sits up, scratching his cheek awkwardly before you turn him into his human form by disabling his powers and press a gentle kiss on his cheek, leaving him buffering for a minute.

Awkward smiles and cheesy pickup lines.

Kurt wouldn't be the type to be hella obvious but there would be signs.

He would be the type to bring you coffee when you're studying late at night.

Bro is pretty much whipped for you. A simp, if I may call him that.

Smitten when you talk to him, can't focus on shit, just looks at you [insert that LEGO movie audio.]

The type to bring you flowers he picked himself.

Kurt's a lovely and kind guy to be around, and you definitely take note of his gestures.

Knows how to comfort you when you're upset. Kurt brings some ice cream and your comfort movie to watch while sitting close to each other under a fluffy blanket.

Kurt ends up falling for you even more when you saved his ass during a mission by emitting your shield towards him and giving him the ability to win against his opponent.

The way he confessed was pretty cheesy yet cute. He texted you to put on something nice yet comfortable, and that he'll be in your room once you're ready.

Once you texted him, he teleported into your room and took your hand before teleporting the both of you to the garden, asking if you'd want to take a walk with him.

You agreed, walking around the garden for about an hour before leading you to a candle lit table with some of your favourite snacks and some juice.

The both of you talked all night, and at the end of it, Kurt teleported the two of you to the roof to watch the sunrise. The sight of it took your breath away.

"Did– did you plan all of this for me?" "Ja, meine Süsse (my sweet).. I planned all of this to, uhm, er.. well– I like you."

It took you a moment to reply but you decided to peck his cheek as an answer to his confession.

Absolute flirt. Isn't scared of showing he's interested in you.

Gets humbled greatly during training when he sparred with you. It only took you one look at him to disable his powers and easily take him down.

But that's what Peter liked about you though. You were like a challenge to him and the chase seemed to give him the high he needed. You were different. A harder puzzle to piece together, and the prize he deemed to be worth than anything. Your heart.

And so started "the never-ending chase" as Scott and Kurt named it. Peter knew he could win you over if he tried hard enough, but if you asked him to stop, he would.

That's when he realized that this feeling in his chest that he was nurturing inside his speedy heart was more than just a mere silly crush.

His feelings for you grew stronger every day. When he spends his time with you, listening to you talk or making you laugh. It made his heart flutter in a way it never did before.

Peter loves it when you give him something to do, giving him a task like picking up a certain thing you urgently need or just overall doing things for you.

When he realises he has a crush on you, he's practically restless, kind of overthinking before slapping himself mentally.

He confesses so stupidly. It was unplanned since he saw you looking at him flirting with another girl which led to a misunderstanding between you.

"Wait– let me explain myself, will ya?" "There's nothing to explain, Peter." "There is–" "We're not a thing, so.." "Do you want us to be a thing then?" "What." "What."

What he said made you stop walking, looking at him with both intrigue and confusion.

"Do you want us to be a thing..?" "..." "Hey, come on, tell me– mnf-!"

You pulled him by the collar and kissed him, making Peter's brain short-circuit.

May 2025: I finally posted it– I'm so sorry, I didn't do it sooner, the other fixations hit and hahahaha... BUT ITS HERE!!!

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Saw you do Hoarder Alex stuff, so I humbly ask if you could do Hoarder Alex HCs where the reader is an artist? just drawing him occasionally and giving him drawings of him and on the rare occasion; paintings cause why not? (They only draw him once they make sure he's fine with it because we love consent)

In the Uncanny Valley, nearly everything and everyone could be your muse. You spent a lot of time creating art in the form of drawings on paper, or sometimes paintings on small canvases. Whatever you were in the mood to make.

A lot of folks accepted portraits of themselves as payment, so you're more than happy to draw them over and over again (with consent, of course. You're a firm believer in that).

But as you were hanging out by the bridge one day, adding the finishing touches of light and shadow to your latest sketch, a rather...angry Italian voice starts spitting words at you.

"Hey...Hey!! HEY!!! EXCUSE MOI?!!!"

"...huh? Me?" You look and see Alex, the resident bridge "guardian", observing you directly, sweating as though you were about to chuck your pencil at him.

"Yes, you! What kind of scheme are you drawing there?? A plot to steal my goods?! Are you mapping out my horde?? You know that's illegal, no?"

"I'm...not drawing or mapping out anything of yours, sir." As proof, you show him your sketchbook page, which shows two red-eyed, black-feathered owls perched on the nearby haunted tree. "See?"

He leans closer, the censor bar over his face angled downwards like a furrowed unibrow as he inspects the picture, but he soon backs off after realizing you're telling the truth. "Ah, well...my apologies. But don't blame me! You kept looking this way so I could only assume!"

He leaves you alone after that, although every once in a while since that first interaction....he'd gaze at you from time-to-time, curious about what you've drawn next and even asking to see your most recent piece.

You think it's just him being shifty and overly paranoid as always, wanting to be sure you aren't actually plotting to take his stuff. But in reality...he's gaining a new obsession, and he knows he can't personally have it.

Because what he wants is yours. All of it's yours. And it'd be a cruel to take it from you--but at the same time it stresses him out, making his paws sweat as the things he was currently collecting suddenly didn't give him that boost of dopamine like they used to.

He tries thinking of ways to take your canvases and supplies when you aren't looking, but he gets too scared to actually execute his plans.

As if the guilt over stealing from the morgue wasn't enough.

One evening, you were inspired by the little moths that were clinging to the beams of the bridge and drew sketches of them flying away, free as birds (or, well, moths in this case), and you're so concentrated--that you fail to realize Alex has been staring over your shoulder for the past hour, not saying a word.

Only when you finally clean up the sketch and hold it up to admire it does he speak.

"Wow, that's pretty rad-"

"AH! W-Were you watching me the whole time???" You feel flustered, and he gets flustered back, scowling.

"When you say it like THAT, it makes it sound like I'm a stalker!! Rude!!" He shouts back, throwing a garbage bag into the river of light. "Can't even take a compliment, can you? So ungrateful! Hmph!"

"Wait, you...like my art?" Suddenly your whole attitude changes to flattery, and your smile returns when you see Alex nod shyly. "Thank you. I'm sorry. Did you....wanna keep this?" He perks up upon hearing the sounds of tearing paper. "It's just a sketch, really, so I don't have any need for it."

He's speechless as you hand it over, acting like you've just given him the Holy Grail and the cure to all his problems, before quietly asking if he had to repay you now or in the future.

After you assure him he owed you nothing, he returns to his horde and sits down to stare at the little moths, not moving for the next hour or so.

You consider Alex to be your friend now, and head home, your mission completed.

The next time you visit the bridge, he approaches you with a surprising question.

"H-Hey, if you're...running out of artistic muses, perhaps I could inspire you? Preferably without my wares in-view." He mutters, feeling embarrassed...yet after you nod in agreement, he starts panicking about how he should pose--but you tell him to just "be natural" and do whatever he usually does.

It's hard for him to do that when he keeps glancing over at your spot by the tree, anxiously wondering if you're drawing him or someone else. Hopefully not that creepy purple villager who can't seem to take their eyes off his stuff.

Soon you give him small drawings of himself. Some are silly, other abstract, and a few genuinely make him choke up in happiness. You even gave him a big painting one day, and he hasn't been able to take his eyes off of it since, keeping it proudly displayed to all passerbys.

Anytime he feels like he's gonna pass out or explode from anger, he looks at the painting like it's a mirror and tells himself affirmations.

You're grateful to have his consent, and find it sweet that he's replacing his previous obsession with one that didn't come with any shame or guilt attached.

And for once, he didn't have to resort to stealing.

[joezworld]

Express Engines

New chapter dropping. The soundtrack album for this is gonna be strange.

Part 1: Caerphilly

Gordon and Caerphilly quickly formed an enduring friendship, something that did not go unnoticed by the other engines… 

---

“I don’t like this,” Henry confided in Percy at Knapford Junction. 

“You don’t like anything.” Percy retorted. “Be more specific if you want my sympathies.”

“Gordon and Caerphilly, as if there was anything else going on.”

“Oh please,” Percy rolled his eyes. “They’re smokebox over buffers for each other, simple as.”

“I don’t think he’d know what that phrase means.”

“Oh come on! Don’t be an idiot - he has to be.” Percy scoffed. “Otherwise he’d be scheming ways to shove her into the ocean by now.”

“Yes, but-” Henry tried and failed to find the words he needed. “I don’t think he knows how to feel that way. When would it have come up? And with who? Me? James?” 

“Henry, I’m going to politely ask you to never bring that up again. I don’t need that mental image.” 

Before Henry could say anything else, there was a distant poop poop, and Gordon came loping around the bend with a down-bound stopping train. He rolled to a stop at the far platform, giving Percy’s disgusted expression significant leeway. “Do I even want to know what you two are discussing?” he said at last. 

“Oh, just something James said earlier.” Henry lied quickly. 

“Ah, of course.” Gordon sounded like he was rolling his eyes. “He said much the same to me this morning. Can you imagine the absolute cheek of him, thinking that he would be a viable replacement to myself or Caerphilly on the express workings? It’s almost vulgar.” 

“Oh - oh yes.” Of course James actually would say something like that. “Uh, Gordon, on that subject: how… how is Caerphilly doing on the express runs? Everything up to your standards?” 

“As much as it pains me to admit it,” Gordon’s tone hovered somewhere between boastful and contemplative. “But she’s a credit to Swindon’s craftsmanship. Certainly the best engine for the job… other than myself of course. Certainly better than James, the little imp. He thinks that he’s just the dog’s bollocks, puh! More like the dog’s breakfast…”

Gordon continued muttering about James until the guard’s whistle blew, and he stormed away towards Tidmouth. 

“See?” Percy said as the coaches rolled out of sight.

“See what? Him being the exact same he always is?” Henry wheeshed. “He’d be in a much better mood if that was happening, let me tell you!” 

-------

The express receded into the distance, and Caerphilly huffed in displeasure. “I do hope he’s not trying for any record-breaking today.” 

“Oh?” Edward pounced on the possibility of gossip. “Whyever not? Surely he’d manage it if he wanted to…”

“One of his axleboxes is acting up.” She said, staring at the vanishing cloud of steam. “His driver is an imbecile and so intends to see to it after the day’s work is done. Stupid man…”

“Oh,” Edward wilted slightly. “So… there hasn’t been any record attempts that we don’t know about? No competition to see who’s fastest?” 

“Goodness me, no!” Caerphilly laughed. “He’s worn out!” 

Edward brightened up significantly. 

“What sort of a competition would that be?” Caerphilly continued on obliviously. “I’m fresh from the works and he’s about to go in for a full overhaul. We’d never get a reproducible result with him in this state. Best to wait until next year when he’s back in fighting form.” 

Edward’s face fell, and remained that way until Caerphilly left. 

“You,” BoCo said from the yard, having heard everything. “Are a gossipy old woman and should be ashamed of yourself.”

-----

“Ach, you’re all jus’ stupid.” Donald remarked one night in the sheds. 

Vulgar noises met this. 

“Ach! Let me fuckin’ finish, aye?” He snapped. 

“Well get on with it!” The other engines retorted. 

“Well,” he said, keeping an eye on the yard outside to see if Gordon or Caerphilly were lurking about. “Forgive me for mixing a metaphor here, but Ah think what has happened is that… the Big Yin has found his Yang.”

“The what has found his who?” Multiple engines looked at him with confusion. Only Bear seemed to understand what was going on. 

“Aye, they’re all morons.” Donald whispered to himself. “The Big Yin is - oh forget it, Ah’m no explainin’ that if’n ye don’ already know. What Ah am trying to say here is that he’s found a kindred spirit. Or, puttin’ it a little bit neater - a friend!”

“And what are the rest of us then?” James sniffed. 

“Annoying!” Came several different voices all at once, and James grew deeply offended. 

“I am not!” 

“Jamie…” Delta said gently. “Don’t take this the wrong way… but friends don’t argue for two weeks straight.”

------

Eventually, after several more days of worrying positivity, James decided the best course of action would be to introduce a conflict in order to restore some form of normality. Everyone else thought that was a stupid idea, and told him so, but critically couldn’t stop him from putting his plan into action. 

“You know,” he said one night, trying (and mostly succeeding) to slot his plan into an existing conversation. “I don’t think that we’ve really learned all there is to know about you, Caerphilly.”

“Such as?” The Western engine looked at him funny. She hadn’t exactly been concealing anything about herself. 

“Well, I for one am curious as to what they taught you over on the Great Western.” James said, trying to play innocent. (It wasn’t working but Caerphilly didn’t know him well enough to notice.) “Gordon has all sorts of stories about how the LNER made him “absorb culture” and other dreadful things like that.” 

Caerphilly laughed. “Ah yes, the grand old tradition of the “Cultured Express.” Indeed, we had that on the Western as well. There were so many different things - stageplay, music, great literature - in fact, we even had our own theatrical company in the shed at Old Oak Common. Those were the days…” 

“Really now, theater?” Gordon raised an eyebrow. “Tell me there were at least works of drama.” 

“Oh no,” Caerphilly smirked. “As old Edmund Kean once said, ‘dying is easy, comedy is hard.’” 

“Comedies?” Gordon was in full pomposity now, and James fought to keep down a smile. Around him, the other engines suddenly had a sinking feeling, as though something was about to go dreadfully wrong.

“Oh don’t look at me like that! What was it that they forced down your boiler tubes? Shakespeare and Marlowe? Can you recite Tamburlaine the Great from memory?” To an untrained eye (like James) Caerphilly seemed slightly put out by Gordon’s response. 

With that in mind, James took this moment to strike one final blow. “Oh, he just loves opera!”

Now, in James’ mind, this last word was accompanied by theatrical scare chords; opera was stuffy, boring, and pretentious - perfect for Gordon, and loathed by everyone else.

For the other engines in the shed, scare chords did present themselves, but not at the mention of opera. Instead, the chords accompanied the absolutely delighted look that crossed Caerphilly’s face. “Like Gilbert and Sullivan?” 

“I don’t particularly care for their works, (and I daresay I’d consider them Opera) but I do know of them, why?” 

“Oh, everyone at Old Oak loved their work!” Caerphilly raved. “We must have done Penzance two or three dozen times!”

Gordon’s eyebrow raised. “They put on… Gilbert and Sullivan in your shed?”

“Oh yes! I always tried to play Frederic, but it always ended up going to one of the boys - Pendennis or Raglan. I ended up playing Mabel most of the time.”

Gordon’s eyebrow got even higher. “Frederic is a tenor. Mabel is a soprano.”

“I can do a baritone if I need to!” She sniffed. “I’ve got the steam for it!” 

“Baritone.” 

“This is all very judgmental from someone who probably doesn’t have information vegetable, animal, and mineral.”

Gordon made a face at that, and Henry, Bear, Delta, and Donald could all feel a sinking feeling in their frames. On the other side of Gordon, James’ smile slowly melted from his smokebox. 

“I think,” Gordon said with a tone so slick it could lubricate bearings. “That you will find me the very model of a modern major-general.”

“Oh no”  James whispered. 

“Ah told them…” Douglas said quietly. 

🎶 “I am the very model of a modern Major-General,

I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral, 

I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical

From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical; 🎶

Gordon started slowly, while staring at Caerphilly expectantly. 

🎵 I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters mathematical,

I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical,

About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news, 🎵

Caerphilly picked up exactly where he left off. 

“Lot o’ news…? Ah yes.” Gordon picked up at the pause, and James was suddenly aware that he should have listened to everyone else. 

🎶 🎵 With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse.

I'm very good at integral and differential calculus;

I know the scientific names of beings animalculous:

In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,

I am the very model of a modern Major-General! 🎵 🎶

They were singing together. 

This kept up for over an hour as the two worked their way through what must have been the entirety of the Pirates of Penzance. 

Then, just when it seemed like salvation was at hand, Samarkand backed into the shed, in high spirits from the day’s work. James and Henry both looked at her plaintively; they hadn’t yet gotten to know her very well, but they hoped that she’d be willing to put a stop to this. 

Delta and Bear had gotten to know the big 9F, and were much less hopeful.

Gordon and Caerphilly were finishing “When the Foeman Bares his Steel,” and she brightened up significantly. “Oh, are we singing? I love HMS Pinafore!” 

There was a very quiet squeak from one of the others - who exactly was unknown. Gordon and Caerphilly looked at each other, and then all three engines started into Pinafore. 

-

Later

Henry backed down onto the Flying Kipper looking like death warmed over. Marina decided not to press, but as she kept shuttling back and forth with the fish vans, she kept hearing something. 

“Are you… humming HMS Pinafore?” she asked at last. 

“NO!” Henry shrieked, and she scuttled away with a wide-eyed look. 

Later still, Salty came by, singing a tune as he moved a string of container cars. “I thought so little, they rewarded me By making me the Ruler of the Queen’s Navee!”

Henry’s eye started twitching. 

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

Part 2: Sam

As freight traffic increased on the main line following the growth of Tidmouth Harbour, more trains were scheduled to cope. In turn, a new division of the company was founded: “NW Cargo Operations,” which handled most main-line goods trains going into the new millennium, ranging from the Flying Kipper to the Pick-Up Goods. It was often hard, dirty work, and many of the established mainline drivers felt that such duties were beneath them, and refused to take these trains unless directly ordered to. As such, many of the drivers who filled the ranks of “Cargo Ops” were younger, either promoted from the branch lines or hired directly for the purpose. (Main line crews rather derisively called the whole lot of them “Childcare Ops,” a nickname that had surprising levels of staying power) 

This was especially true on the steam traction side of things,where the crews were a strange mix of branch line crews who took an “easy” promotion, relatively junior main line crews who had  jumped at the chance to get more throttle time without having to deal with Gordon or the people whose primary career goal was driving Gordon, and rank amateurs who had only just proven that they could be entrusted with a coal shovel. There were shockingly few “adults” on the staff, meaning that more often than not, the most mature person on a given crew was the engine; this was fine for Henry and the Kipper, but James on the pick-up goods was far more common and far less ideal.

It was into this mixed bag of professionalism and skill that Samarkand - Sam or Sammie for short, if she was feeling nice - steamed headlong into. The crews were overjoyed; growing train sizes meant that more and more often they were dealing with an underpowered engine (James) on a long train (the pick-up goods, now thirty or more cars long), or the daunting process of filching a bigger engine from the passenger services. (Henry, because nobody was suicidal enough to ask Gordon) Sam, with her massive, ten-coupled frame, a power class of 9, and Crovan’s Gate “improvements” was a gift from the heavens, and they put her to work immediately on the heaviest trains. 

---

“I dare say,” Henry remarked a few days afterwards, as Sam’s container train receded into the distance in a cloud of dust and steam. “It’s like the 1960s again.” 

“I’m not sure I follow?” Caerphilly raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I suppose you weren’t there for this,” Henry said. “But as steam faded from the mainland, many of the most junior drivers and firemen were given footplate space on what had been the crack express engines. I recall hearing from a Southern engine who came here once that a close sibling - who at that point was more rust than engine, mind you - was brought beyond a hundred miles an hour on a boat train in 1967 by a crew of boys no more than twenty-five.”

“You’re kidding!” Caerphilly wished she’d been able to find out more about what had happened in that last horrible decade, after she’d been locked away. “And so, what? We’ve just handed Sam over to the daycare center and told them to flog the wheels off her?” 

“I suppose you could put it like that,” Henry mused as the signal rose. “But she seems to be enjoying it, so don’t view it as a bad thing.”

And he left, leaving a very contemplative Caerphilly behind. 

---

Contrary to what some engines (James) thought, Sam was enjoying working with “Childcare Operations.” Crews on the heritage lines she’d previously found herself on often treated her strangely: those who knew about her, her lineage, and Star treated her like she was made of glass; those who didn’t often treated her with mild indifference - she was a big engine, with big engine problems, but none of the glory that came to the ex-express engines. (Of course, some of those probably poisoned the well for her, so thanks Mallard.)  The rest, well, they were veterans of BR in the 60s or earlier, and as such treated her like they treated all the other engines - like property, to be ignored unless needed. In comparison, these fresh-faced youths who still didn’t fully know their way around an engine were a breath of fresh air, laughing and joking their way through a driving shift, and making sure that she was in on the fun. They even made references to things she’d never heard of - movies, television shows, songs, and even novels - and then bothered to explain them to her.

As this happened, it occurred to her, for the first time in her entire life, that she wasn’t the youngest one in the yard.     

----

“Something occurred to me yesterday.” She said one morning at the big station. 

“And what might that be?” The other engines - Gordon, Delta, Pip, Emma, Daisy, Caerphilly, and Marina - all turned to look at her. 

“I’m old.” she said simply. “Like, I’m one of the youngest steam engines there is and I’m over forty.” There was a very long pause. “I don’t know how to feel about that.” 

“Well don’t I just feel ancient and withered.” Caerphilly fixed her with a wry look. “Practically a fossil - I should be put on display in a museum, oh wait…” 

Delta and Marina both looked at each other across the platforms. It was clear to see that both diesels were doing the math in their heads as to exactly how close they were to Sam’s age. It looked to be concerningly close. Daisy, meanwhile, said nothing, but made a face that rather neatly expressed “oh god, am I really older than some steam engines?”

Pip chuckled lightly. “Well, I suppose that not all of us can be young and beautiful like Em and I, hmm? All you lot will have to settle for aging gracefully in the rest home.”

Caerphilly emitted a vulgar noise, and Gordon rolled his eyes. “Speaking as the elder of this moment, I believe I shall take my leave before this devolves into a feud.”

“Age before beauty, eh Gordon?” Delta pounced, trying to draw attention away from the sudden sense of insecurity she felt. 

This time they all heard the eye-roll, even as Gordon began to pull away with his stopping train. “Not only am I just as beautiful as the rest of you, but take note that you are only ever as old as you feel, and today I feel rather young indeed. Good day, ladies.” 

He left in a cloud of self-importance, leaving some of the other engines gobsmacked. “When did he get so… secure?” Daisy asked. 

“And calm?” Delta watched the coaches leave. 

“Did he just call us all beautiful?” Pip raised both eyebrows. 

 “Is that… not supposed to happen?” Caerphilly looked confused. 

The other engines all looked at her. 

“What?” she squeaked, suddenly unsure of what was going on. She had to tamp down a momentary feeling of panic as four different diesels looked straight into her eyes.

“Caerphilly,” Delta said carefully. “Is there… anything you want to tell us about yourself and Gordon?”

It took several seconds to parse. “Certainly not!” She spluttered. “And what business would it be of yours anyway?” 

“Aside from the fact that Gordon is one of the engines holding this island together?” Marina said thoughtfully. “And means a great deal to us?” The thoughtful look quickly turned wry, and she continued before Caerphilly could respond. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but I often wonder if he even knows what he’s saying. It would be most relieving to learn that he does.”

“What?” Sam broke in, eyebrows high. “How can he not know? He’s like, ninety!”

“And he has spent almost every one of those years on this island.” Marina was firm, and Delta looked like she agreed. “From whom would he have learned? James? Henry? Thomas?” 

Sam remained steadfast. “No. No. No way. He has to know! They - he can’t be that stupid!” 

Silence hung in the air for about ten seconds after this. Then, uproarious laughter split the atmosphere in two. Daisy started to turn red. Delta began crying. Marina was actually shaking. Pip and Emma - who have not been on Sodor that long! - were laughing so hard that their headlights flickered on and off. 

Caerphilly and Sam looked at each other, unsure of what to do. “This bodes poorly for us, doesn’t it?” Caerphilly said over the sound of Daisy’s helpless wheezing. 

Sam paused, long enough for her crew to emerge from the station building. They looked deeply befuddled at the howling diesels, but didn’t stop to question it. 

“I…” Sam said as they hopped into her cab and readied the train for departure. “Think that I need to be somewhere else before I catch whatever they have.” 

Delta tried and failed to say something, which instead came out as a gasping whimper. 

With concerned looks sent all around, Sam left in a billow of smoke and steam, the pick-up goods trailing behind her. 

The laughter continued, but abruptly began petering off as the pick-up goods kept going. First ten cars, 

Then twenty, 

Then thirty, 

Forty, 

Forty-seven cars were between Sam and the brakevan as she hauled the train away from the station, not once seeming to notice the immense load. 

The others watched her go with dropped jaws. 

“Remind me again,” Delta said eventually. “Why we were so revolutionary, when they had engines that could do that?” 

-----

The pick-up goods was a long and often tedious run up the island, stopping at every station and fishing cars out of goods yards before dropping new ones in their place. It often took every minute of the standard 9-and-a-half-hour driving shift, and if the size of the train while it was in Tidmouth was any indication, Sam wouldn’t be back in her shed until close to midnight. 

One advantage of the slow, plodding run? The chance for gossip to clear the engine/crew divide. 

“So,” Siobhan leaned out of the cab window as they waited in the Wellsworth goods loop. Caerphilly had just thundered by with the Limited, and it had seemed like a good time to bring it up. “Wha’ exactly was going on wit’ all ye at the platforms?” 

“Oh, nothing… just some girl talk?” Sam did not sound incredibly sure of herself. 

“Sounded more like the girls laughing at ye, than anythin’ close to talking.” 

“Well, it wasn’t supposed to be funny, but they all started laughing!” 

“So what’d ye say?” 

“I’d rather not… it’s too… gossipy.”

Siobhan recoiled. “An engine that don’t wanna gossip? What is the world comin’ to?” She disappeared into the cab. “Oi, oi, Will. Come ‘ere. No, no, come here. I gotta show ya somethin’.” 

She reappeared a moment later with the fireman - a young, barely trained teenager named Wilma - and pointed forwards in the vague direction of Sam’s face. “See tha’? That’s an engine that won’t give up the gossip! I’ve been doin’ this fer seventeen years and I’ve never seen that before. Make a note o’ it or somethin’, ‘cause it may be the only time ya ever do!” 

Sam blushed with irritated embarrassment. “I don’t know if it’s true! I couldn’t ask any more questions because they just kept laughing! I’m not gonna go around and tell lies!” 

Will ignored all of this, and focused on the important details. “How have you been doing this for seventeen years? My mum is barely older than you.”

“I signed on when I was sixteen, figured it’d keep me out the house.” Siobhan paused for a long second. “And, I know yer mum - she’s a slag, that’s how she’s barely older than me with a kid yer age.”

Will turned bright red and swatted at Siobhan. “Fuck you!” 

“Aye, that’s what yer mum was saying!” Siobhan dodged the swat and the lump of coal that followed it. “And that’s how ye fuckin do gossip, yeah!” 

“I don’t think I needed to hear any of this.” Sam remarked to nobody in particular. 

Inside the cab, nobody heard her. “Oi! Put that hose down!” 

“Stand still!”

“Don’t ye fuckin dare…” 

“Stand still! There’s coal dust on your face.”

Sam rolled her eyes, and very quietly directed more pressure to the injector running the in-cab hose. 

Bssssssshhhhhh “ACKSBTHLTHGH!” 

 ----

When the train eventually reached Wellsworth, Wilma was on the platform before Sam stopped moving, and was patiently waiting for the stationmaster to take the bills of lading for the cargo they were dropping off. 

At the other end of the platform, BoCo watched with some interest as Sam tried mightily to cover up a smile. He didn’t have to wait long for an explanation, as a sopping wet Siobhan squelched her way along the platform, checking each bearing as she went. 

“Do I even want to know?” He asked Sam quietly. 

“See that girl down the platform, talking to the stationmaster?” 

“Yes..?”

“I think she’s going to fit in very well on this railway.” 

Siobhan was close enough that she heard them anyways, and squeaked her way up the platform, leaving a trail of water behind her. “Aye, listen ta me closely, you giant green abomination. This shite is my fault, but I am gonna blame ye fer it, see if I don’t.” And she squeak-squeak-ed away to check on other parts of the train. 

“How are you liking Childcare Operations?” BoCo asked, full of innocence. 

Sam allowed a smile to light up her face. “It’s some of the best work I’ve ever had. I have to see if York would sell us Evening Star. He’d love this.” 

--------  

Later Still

They’d reached Killdane around lunchtime, and took their time setting out cars of alumina bound for the aluminum company in Peel Godred, before collecting cars of ingots for the mainland. 

“Isn’t this a little much?” Will asked as they shuffled the train around to put the heavy loaded cars at the front. “That’s, like, fifty five or sixty cars now.”

“I can take it!” Sam chirped, and Siobhan frowned. 

“Aye, lassie. It’s not that I think ye can’t, but at this stage I’m worried about losin’ a coupling somewhere.” 

“It’s downhill, it’ll be fine! Besides, if we don’t take these now, someone’s got to make a special trip before tomorrow, and who do you think that’ll be?” 

“...” Siobhan had a laundry list of reasons why this wouldn’t work, but decided to let the big engine figure it out for herself. With the electric engines looking on in wonder as she built up the train to a titanic sixty-one cars, Sam felt perfectly confident that everything was going to work. 

Then it didn’t, but in a way that no-one was expecting. 

“I’ve got no air pressure," the guard radioed in from his van. “I think the train’s too long for the air to pump up back here.” 

 No air pressure meant that the train’s brakes wouldn’t release, so they really weren’t going anywhere now. “So what do we do?” Sam asked in confusion. She didn’t even know this was possible, and had no idea how to solve it. 

Siobhan and Will were similarly befuddled, and were conferring with “control” on what their next move should be when a weak honk sounded through the yard. 

It was Delta, who limped to a stop with the mid-day Limited, looking exhausted. 

“Well, I think that these traction motors have just about had it," she said weakly. “I don’t think we’re going to make it much further.”

As if to prove her point, there was a sudden arc of electric light from the space between bogie and platform, and a thin plume of smoke rose into the air. From inside her cab, there was shouting and scurrying, before a weighty mechanical chonk rang out, and the smoke tapered off to nothing.  

“Are you alright?” Sam and Siobhan were wide-eyed at the whole display. 

“No, but don’t worry about it.” Delta’s expression had tightened quite a bit. She was in pain and not thrilled about the situation; she was even less happy about the dozen or so station staff now swarming over her. “The works were supposed to change the traction motors on that bogie next week. Bloody inconvenient timing if you ask me.”

It took some time to tend to Delta’s sudden and very prominent issue - the fire brigade had been called, so now the entire station was at a standstill. Sam, Siobhan, and Will, at a loss for anything else to do, had started re-arranging the train, assuming that they’d be breaking it into sections anyways in order to deal with the air brake issue. 

This was still ongoing when Wendell rolled in from the works to rescue the coaches from the calamity. “60 cars isn’t long enough for that to be an issue," he remarked after being informed of the problem. “They ran fish trains that long all the time on the mainland. Must be a leak somewhere. Or your air pump is bad.”

He would have explained more, but he was too busy shunting Delta out of the way, and then he was off, taking the Limited the rest of the way to Barrow. 

Meanwhile, this revelation meant that Siobhan, Will, and the guard were clambering over Sam and the trucks trying to figure out what the issue could be. 

Doing this took so long that everyone eventually lost patience, and started putting the train back together. “If it doesn’t work,” Sam rolled her eyes. “Then we’ll just treat it as an unbraked train. Not like we were going very fast anyways.”

Everyone seemed annoyed, but satisfied with this plan, but then Will had a thought as they began shunting the lines of trucks together. “Hang on, aren’t we taking her to the works?” She motioned over to Delta, who was sitting by herself, front bogie coated in fire retardant and liberally wrapped with caution tape. 

Delta heard her, and smiled self-effacingly. “I’m fine. They isolated everything, so I can go there on the motors in the rear bogie when there’s a gap in the timetable.” 

Siobhan and Sam both raised eyebrows, about to ask why she was moving on her own at all, when, as if to prove a point, Wendell flashed through the station with the midday express, clearly covering at least some of Delta’s timetable.

Will had a pensive look as the express’s lamps faded into the distance. “Hey, wait a second. If she can move on her own, and we’re having air brake problems, why don’t we just put her on the back and have her pump air from the rear? Should solve that problem, and she doesn’t have to drive on one motor set.”

It took a few moments for everyone to ponder that, and quite a bit longer for “control” and the stationmaster to sign off on it, but eventually everyone agreed that it “was the best bad idea” they’d heard today, and Delta was soon coupled between the brakevan and the train. The guard was very happy to report that the brake line was charging normally, and a brake test showed that there was full brake pressure up and down the train. 

Of course, there always had been. A group of mainland trucks had felt very troublesome indeed - something about being bossed around by a tea kettle - and had decided to cause mischief when they had the chance. This came to a head when the train was put together in Killdane yard, and the mischievous little things had held their brake valves shut, preventing the brake pressure from propagating up and down the train as usual. They all found it very funny, and had felt very proud of themselves indeed when the train had become so delayed due to their handiwork. 

The other trucks on the train - mostly trucks from other parts of Sodor - also found this funny, but only a few of the cannier mainland trucks realized that the laughter was… not directed at the same place. 

“Oi,” an “ECC INTERNATIONAL” hopper whispered to a “SODOR FUEL OIL CO.” tanker as Sam began to build up steam. “What’s about to happen?”

“You’ll see…” The tanker sounded positively giddy. 

With a hiss, the brakes came off, and the line of mainlanders waited just a moment before clamping their brake shoes against their wheels. The hopper, sensing that he was on the precipice of making a mistake, did not follow their lead. 

Behind him, the wounded diesel that had been shunted onto the train at the last moment gave a sigh. “Oh, they think they’re clever.”

Up front, the steam engine whistled loudly, and set off with a roar of exhaust, steam shooting into the air with each cacophonous chuff. 

The train quickly jerked into motion, and there was a yelp of pain from further up the train as all ten of the mainland trucks were yanked into motion with their brakes hard on. Screaming and shouting, they skidded across the yard and almost to the main line before they realized that this engine was not stopping for their prank - perhaps she didn’t even notice. They released their brakes - too little too late, in the hopper’s opinion - and began rolling, albeit with huge flat spots that painfully thump-thumped their way down the main line. 

The tanker in front was in hysterics, as were most of the other Sodor trucks. 

The few mainland trucks that didn’t participate were horrified. 

Behind, the big diesel was awestruck. “She’s like a machine,” she said. “Why did the Western Region have to get her?” 

-----

 Later

Eventually, finally, the train clanked into Barrow, fifty-seven trucks trailing behind Sam. The yard shunter gulped mightily at the sight of it, but Sam paid no notice as she rolled off to the sheds for coal, water, and a short rest. 

Caerphilly was also “on shed,” having brought in the mid-day express, and the conversation was flowing before Sam came to a halt. Will and Siobhan saw the opportunity, and scampered away to the station building unnoticed. They may have enjoyed being on Sam’s footplate, but after seven hours they needed a break, a sandwich, and a floor that didn’t move when it got excited. 

It was maybe an hour or so later, after their much-needed rest, Siobhan trotted back to the crew rest area with a sheaf of papers and a rather self-satisfied look on her face. Will saw her coming from across the room and sat up, not liking her expression one bit. “What?” She asked with some trepidation.

“So…” Siobhan tried not to look like the cat that got the canary. “Del’s in the works, Henry’s on a container train, Wendell’s in Knapford, and the two nutcases are on the Limited and the boat train, which means that the Northern Belle’s got no engine."

“What? You joking?” 

Siobhan wasn’t. The Northern Belle was an all-Pullman luxury charter train, operated by the same company that now ran the Orient Express. It catered mostly to wealthy tourists, taking them to various cities and historical sites across Northern England. It visited Sodor twice since it had been introduced last year, and while the train (and its passengers) had been resoundingly trouble-free, the management of the luxury train company was another story, apparently demanding special treatment from the Fat Controller despite refusing to pay for it. As a result of the prior two experiences, a notice had been sent around the various sheds that the train would be given to “any engine that is available,” with the heavy implication being that Wendell - arguably the “least famous” engine on the Island, and notably not a steam engine - would be the one taking it. 

But now, Wendell was clear across the island, it took very little dot-connecting for Will to realize what Siobhan was saying. “We’re gonna take a Pullman?”

“Looks like it.”

Will looked at Siobhan, and then herself. They were so thoroughly coated in coal dust and sweat that they looked like Victorian chimney sweeps. “Do we need to do our hair or something? Should we get the polish? Do we need to get Sammie?”

Siobhan was already holding up a hand to forestall the questioning. “Yard crew is gettin’ Sam righ’ now, I don’ think I can do the hair unless I’m dunkin’ myself in the water tower, and stationmaster had “orders from above” that we only needed to do ourselves up if we wanted to, which is a diplomatic way o’ sayin’ “I hope ye lasses look like shite so those wankers won’ come back.””

“Are they that bad?” 

“Aye! Ye should’ve heard the fuss they kicked up with the Fat Controller when James had to sub in for Gordon at the last moment…”

---

Later still

Siobhan and Will, looking every bit a pair of Victorian ragamuffins, left a trail of sooty bootprints down the length of the platform directly in front of the primped and polished Pullman coaches. A few passengers looked out the window and raised an eyebrow. One particularly loud voice could be heard through the double-paned window, a brash Texas accent saying something about “miners.” 

The coaches sighed and rolled their eyes. They were well aware of the reputation their management had foisted upon them, and were grateful that most railways seemed willing to judge corporate and personal sins separately. 

Further up the platform, and the diesel that brought the train here was gone, replaced by Sam, who did not look her best when still streaked with coal and brake dust from the long trip to Barrow. Her green paint and brasswork were dull under the crud. “Do we not have time for a washdown?” she said, slightly scandalized. “These are Pullman coaches!” 

“No’ today,” Siobhan chirped as she swung into the cab. “Tell ye all about it once we get goin.”

“It’s a whole thing,” Will chimed in, despite not fully understanding the circumstances either. 

“Excuse me, but what exactly do you think you’re doing?” A shrill voice called from the platform. A pair of impeccably dressed men in pressed and starched driver’s overalls stared imperiously through the cab window. 

It didn’t work. “Well Clancy,” Siobahn leaned out the cab window and gave a disaffected stare. “It appears as though I am gonna drive this train to Tidmouth.”

Clancy, who was slightly taller and had a thicker moustache than his counterpart, puffed himself up, the received pronunciation in his accent getting stronger. “And who authorized such a thing? You drive goods trains, not Pullman services!”

Siobhan reached into her breast pocket and produced a stick of chewing gum, carefully unwrapping it from the foil, before sticking it in her mouth. She balled up the foil and tossed it at Clancy, who recoiled. “I would say that my authorization came from the duty sheet I was given by the stationmaster.” She produced the duty sheet, gum snapping away noisily. “I believe ye know ‘im. About yea tall, named Burton? Brown hair, little round glasses an’ a bow tie?”

Clancy’s face screwed up in displeasure. “Yes, yes, I am well aware of our… egalitarian taskmaster, but you and he should know that this is not a service for Cargo Operations. It is a premiere service, and main-line crews should be taking it-”

“It is a charter service and ye well know it,” Siobhan shot back. “Cargo Ops has free fuckin’ reign of them just like ye do. Also, this is the Northern Belle, an’ there was a whole circular abou’ this thing getting wha’ever was available, so we’re it!”

Clancy looked like he had already been tightly wound before he walked up the platform. Now he was liable to explode. “This is an express working! You’ve got a child on the footplate! She should be in school, not firing an engine! Does she even know what she’s doing?” 

Will sat up, thoroughly offended. Siobhan got to him first. “An’ she’s doin’ a fine job o’ it. I ain’t heard no’ one complaint about ‘er all day!”

The man standing behind Clancy took this moment to open his mouth, revealing an equally posh accent with a characteristically flippant tone. “Yes, well, it may be all well and good, but we all know exactly how… permissive the engines can be. I can assure you that if something has gone wrong today, you would be ignorant of it.” 

This was the wrong comment to make.

“Have I been fuckin’ eatin’ glue the last twenty years?” Siobhan yowled. “Do I not know wha’ a fuckin’ fireman does?”

“That’s a lot of talk for someone with clean fingernails and shiny boots!” Will seemingly teleported across the cab, and was almost entirely out the window. “I bet you haven’t lifted anything heavier than a pencil all month, Rupert!”

“I’ve been called a lot of things, but quiet and permissive isn’t one of them.” Sam was utterly bewildered. “What a comment to make!” 

Rupert recoiled, and Clancy went on the attack. “Don’t be hysterical! You’re both barely out of nappies and you think that you can take an express train? Get out of the cab and let someone experienced do the work.”

“How long have you been doing this for?” Sam retorted dryly. “I imagine that it hasn’t been day in, day out, for almost forty years.”

“I don’t recall asking you for your opinion, 92250.” Clancy seethed. “But, if you must know, I signed on with the Southern Region in 1967.”

“The Southern Region that ended steam in 1967?” Sam’s tone was acidic. “What diesel did you hire onto?” 

Rupert could see that Clancy was struggling, and tried to save him. “Now see here! I will have you know that we are both very experienced drivers in the heritage rail industry, and have many hundreds of hours at the throttle of -”

“Engines like me?” A majestic voice called from behind them. It was Caerphilly, who did not look thrilled with the goings-on, to the point where the yard crew who had brought her to the platforms beat a hasty escape back to the sheds. “I imagine you did. Tell me, how does your experience of driving two or three miles through the countryside at a snail’s pace translate to running crack steam express services?”

“We have been gainfully employed on this railway for years doing exactly that!” Rupert’s voice was starting to crack.

“I know. Gordon mentions you. Frequently.” 

They were losing the battle, and they knew it. Clancy was turning a deep shade of red, and went for what he thought was the kill. “Oh for the love of God! Get out of the cab you stupid cows! This is our assignment and I will not let a woman take it from me!” 

There was a moment of silence, during which Clancy and Rupert took absolutely zero notice of how completely surrounded they were. 

KSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

The silence was then broken by the sound of Caerphilly and Sam venting steam at the two men, turning the far end of the platform into a cacophonous sauna of noise, heat, and steam. 

It went on for well over a minute, only stopping when the signal in front of Sam turned green, and she slipped away with the Northern Belle rolling smoothly along behind her. The passengers looked out of the windows in awe at the display, totally ignorant of why it had happened. 

In the deafening silence, Clancy and Rupert laid flat on their backs on the freshly steam-cleaned platform. Their clothes were soaked completely through, stuck to their bodies as though they had just been fished out of the Walney Channel. Indeed, if one ignored the slightly red tinge to their skin, the two men could be mistaken for recovered drowning victims. 

Slowly, a pair of footsteps click-clicked their way across the platform. It eventually resolved into a man of average height, wearing a dark suit with a bow-tie and round glasses. A nametag on his breast revealed him as C. BURTON - STATIONMASTER. 

“I have rostered you two on the Kirk Ronan boat train,” he said in a soft American accent. “Number four is the assigned engine.” 

He dropped a clipboard onto Clancy’s chest, and walked away.

Slowly, as the footsteps faded, Clancy and Rupert’s heads turned to look towards the sheds. 

There, in the dark shadows, Gordon’s eyes glinted furiously.

[haru-hanna]

Had this like, amazing idea that I posted on twitter but I just want to ramble more about it because it’s driving me mad the more I think about it but without school I feel like I can’t write 。゜(｀Д´)゜。

The premise is simple. In an attempt to kill Megatron, Starscream ends up dying instead (idk if it should be a specific Star or just…. Continuity soup tho). He doesn’t know he’s dead but he does die. Next thing he knows, he wakes up in a very comfy berth confused. His frame looks way more polished, less damaged and honestly, a tad bit fancier. Just like he always wanted. He walks around and finds Megatron fairly quickly. And the first thing he does is try to stab the mech.

Now, as it turns out, this isn’t his Megatron. It takes him a while to realize it but everything’s really different. Megatron’s a king of some kind (maybe, idk) and Starscream’s either supposed to be his fiancé or his closest confidant (again idk, this is just a ramble for an idea I literally came up with 10 minutes ago kinda inspired by @/kinzenn’s AU).

He tries to kill Megs a couple more times to no avail, this time being thwarted by this world’s Soundwave. He’s, somehow, more aware of what’s going on compared to the Soundwave from his world.

Now, on SOUNDWAVE’S side of things, he’s also super duper confused. One day Starscream was normally living his life, an aura of deceit enveloping his frame. He was definitely up to something that would harm Megatron, that was at least according to what his magical powers could sense (he’s probably like, some secret court magician/spy. Kinda thinking like Hubert from FE3H). The next day however, all those hidden feelings were replaced by outright malice and thoughts that were not as hidden as before. He could see all of Starscream’s plans now, as well as confusing depictions of everyone who lived in the Decepticon Empire (prob needs a better name).

Okay, back to Starscream. He’s confused and has no allies. Not like he did in his old world though, his trine has long been dead (I love command/elite trine so much but I’d feel so bad if they had to mourn an isekai’d Starscream who’s never coming back. Star can morn but I don’t want Warp and TC to😭) It is only when he talks to someone, who says some weirdly familiar things, that he finally figures out where he is….

HE’S IN ONE OF THUNDERCRACKER’S SH*TTY ROMANCE BOOK!!! THE ONE HE KEPT SWEARING TO THROW AWAY BUT COULDN’T BECAUSE OF STUPID SENTIMENTS!!!

The plot becomes familiar. In this world, a young prince was to betray his kingdom in favour of creating harmony between two rivalling nations. In the process he falls in love with his enemy, the king of the Decepticons. Starscream’s role in the tale is simple. He was the main villain! More accurately, the main Decepticon antagonist. A seeker who was close to Megatron but secretly wanted him gone and was plotting to do so up until his plans were thwarted by the Autobot kingdom’s youngest prince.

The worst part of this whole situation, Starscream realizes, is that his character is destined to die at the end of the story. After some contemplation, he changes his goals. Play along as much as he can, avoid the thing that’s going to kill him and find a way to get back home ASAP.

About a week or two after Starscream figures things out, Soundwave learns the same from his thoughts. Now, he doesn’t particularly like Starscream but he would rather deal with his own version him over some random bot from another universe.

Rest of whatever this story is would be Starscream failing at pretending to be the guy he replaced, Soundwave trying to secretly/discretely help but failing and both taking heavy notice of each other. They both eventually fall in love with each other but they don’t say anything because A. That’s a weakness and bots in their positions can’t have those and B. Both think Starscream’s going to return to his old world when the story ends so it’s only going to end in tragedy.

It’s cute, maybe Star bonds with the cassettes a bit because I’m a sucker for that (maybe they’re like, Soundwave’s apprentices). His trine’s here for sure, they’re like his Angel and devil on his shoulder but they’re real bots who are just his assistants or aides or smth.

Everything ends with the “book” ending, Starscream barely escaping his fated death thanks to Soundwave. Soundwave confesses his love, Starscream says he can’t say yes because he’s going to disappear probably, Soundwave says he knows. He knows everything. The two kiss as light envelopes Starscream and then BOOM. Nothing happens.

Or, kinda. Starscream regains his memories of his death and the two realize he’s probably not going anywhere and they can live happily ever after….. maybe. Depends on what the “protagonists” want to do with these two for their previous crimes 😂