#caboose spokes

[msschemmenti]

girls night

jj x reader x emily

prompt: y/n is garcia’s neighbor and the girls come back from a rather rowdy night of salsa lessons and drinks and forget which apartment is garcia’s.

a/n: another crack drabble from my notes app but i couldn’t decide between jj and emily

“pen where are your keys?” emily spoke around a hiccup. they’d all had waaay too much to drink tonight and it was hitting the older woman as she swayed in the lobby of penelope’s apartment building. salsa dancing always brought out the women’s inner alcoholic and it was a miracle they’d even made it to the apartment building in general.

penelope, ever the excitable drunk, circled the lobby in a conga line of one but stopped next emily with a grin. “in here!” she grinned wiggling her cupcake shaped purse in front of emily’s drooped eyes.

the woman nodded and dug around in the cupcake until she felt the metal of the keys and pulled them free from the bag. “alright ladies, i think we’re ready to tackle the stairs now.”

“the stairs?” jj whined pushing herself up from the wall and toward emily.

“yes the stairs. the elevator is broken,” emily gestured to the metal doors with the paper sign on them. both jj and garcia boo’d loudly and mimed throwing tomatoes at the door. “plus i think we need the physical activity to sober up a bit. move out, soldiers.”

jj rolled her eyes and threw a dorky salute emily’s way before practically pulling herself up the stairs by the railings. garcia following closely behind and emily playing caboose on the train of drunk women. they make it all the way to her floor and pause in the hallway.

“pen did you decorate the entire hall?” jj asked in confusion. the normally empty hall looked like garcia’s home exploded all over every door.

“yeah! we had a neighbor decorating party. so now every door looks like mine.” garcia twirled unsteadily and poked one of the wreath covered doors.

“well which one is yours? it’s usually pretty easy to tell when i’m sober but i’m struggling a bit here.” emily asked as they walked the hall looking at each door.

mid spin garcia stops in front of a door with a potted planter and rainbow doormat and grins, “this one!”

jj furrowed her brows, “i thought you lived on this side facing the street…”

“the street is this way, jayje.” penelope singsonged as she extended her finger to boop her nose. “just get the key on my pink key ring. that’s where i keep my apartment key, so when im like this i can remember.”

emily looked jj wearily and shrugged before fishing out one of the two keys on the pink key ring. “as long as one of us is confident in this decision…” she mumbled before trying the key. when it didn’t turn she gazed up at the blondes in confusion. “um it’s not working.”

“oh oh wait, try to jiggle it. sometimes it gets stuck.”

emily wiggled the key all kinds of ways— unknowingly making quite a bit of noise in the hall. she turned to question garcia to complain when the lock turned in her hand and the door pulled open from the inside. all three women froze in shock and slowly allowed their eyes to pan up over the woman holding the door in her hand.

“hi,” she spoke with a laugh as she took in the hazy drunken cloud that was clearly covering the three agents on her doormat.

“garcia, who’s the hottie in pink?” jj whispered out of the side of her mouth, eyes never leaving her woman.

“jen,” emily groaned swatting the blonde’s hip as she watched the blush cover the woman’s cheeks.

“oh my god, y/n! what are you doing in my apartment?” garcia grinned, ignoring her bickering coworkers to pull her neighbor into a hug. y/n pushed her glasses up her nose and patted garcia’s back affectionately.

“penelope, you live across the hall babe.” y/n chuckled sweetly as she held the technical analyst by her shoulders to look her over. “and it looks like you’ve had quite a bit to drink, huh?”

penelope grinned, “uh huh. are you sure i don’t live here? it’s so pretty.”

“yeah hun, i’m sure. here why don’t i help y’all get inside and settled for the night?” y/n asked slipping her feet into a pair of slippers by the door and grabbed her keys. she turned to face the two other women leaning on either side of her doorframe. “and maybe i can introduce myself to your friends.” she spoke with a wink before corralling all the agents across the hall and over to penelope’s door. which looked pretty similar to her own.

emily shoved the keys toward y/n clumsily, “you probably need those.”

y/n accepted the key with a laugh and unlocked the door. “thanks hun,” she pushed the door open and held it open for all three women to file in. “welcome to you actual home penelope.” all three agents fell onto the closest flat surface and released various groans and sighs of relief at not being stood upright. “god you guys really got your fill on whatever alcoholic drink you could. i’m gonna go find you guys some water and advil. don’t move— unless you think you’re gonna puke.”

as soon as the woman turned her back to head into the kitchen, jj and emily both sat up to face garcia. “when’d you get a hot neighbor?” jj asked accusatorially.

“yeah! last i heard there was some old mean lady across the hall. you’ve been holding out on us.” emily chided, poking garcia’s shoulder pointedly.

“down you animals, she moved in a couple months ago. we’ve been a bit busy with you know the dark evil cruelest corners of the US. sorry i didn’t find the time to throw in my new neighbor is hot and single and very into women.” garcia rattled off with a shrug.

“well yes, we’ve been busy but sometimes hot neighbors trump serial killers.” jj replied matter of factly causing emily to tilt her head in thought.

“shut up jj.” she deadpanned with a shake of the head.

“hey!” the blonde called with a pout.

before anyone could actually continue the conversation y/n rounded the island with three glasses of water and a palm full of pain killers. “it seems in your inebriated states, you’ve all forgotten how open floor plans work.”

“oh my god, i think she heard us.” garcia whispered [not actually] to the now blushing women next to her.

“what did y’all drink?” y/n asked watching as each woman downed their water and pills.

“something called the green fairy. very good and very effective.” garcia replied.

“that’s for sure.” y/n nodded in understanding before turning her gaze to the other two women. “as flattered as i am ladies, you can come introduce yourselves when you’ve sobered a bit. that’s if any of you remember this tomorrow.”

“i don’t think either of can forget a face like yours.” emily flirted with a smirk, almost seeming completely sober. until a hiccup distracted her.

“we’ll see about that.” y/n laughed before heading to the door. “i trust all of you can at least get yourselves ready bed. i’ll lock you in for the night.”

“thanks y/n!” garcia sang they watched her disappear through the doorway.

“no prob, pen. come get your keys tomorrow! good night ladies.” the three women heard the door lock from the outside and the echo of the other woman’s door closing in the hallway.

“someone remind me to flirt with her tomorrow.” jj spoke, eyes half open but finger pointed to where y/n had been standing last.

“i’ll set a reminder in my phone.” garcia said pulling the phone from her pocket.

[suitov]

"Sit still, won't you?"

Izuru, never cooperative unless he was physically touching him, stopped wiggling his toes. Mostly.

"I can't imagine how you walk around like this without stabbing them on things."

"Talent," said Izuru, watching the scissors without apparent interest.

"Just unnecessary bother," he tutted.

"They grow again. Therefore, trimming frequently. Waste." Izuru spoke in precise, complete sentences, almost as a defence mechanism. Except with him. Except with the person who followed his trains of thought inerrantly, like a particularly shapely caboose. Lazy feline laconism could be flattering, looked at correctly.

"You are an awkward and dreadful entity," he chid. I love you.

"And your head is full of fluff." I love you.

Satisfied, sort of, he set the nail scissors aside. There was no point whatsoever trying the nail file. Izuru couldn't stand the sensation. And he'd try to sit through it for Nagito's sake, which was infinitely worse than rebelling or grumping.

"Finished." He let the foot escape his lap like a triumphant salmon. "Of course, they're typically viewed as unclean," he mused. "I never would've thought I'd find any pair of them beautiful."

"Your bias is showing."

He leaned shamelessly into his Izuru's touch. "I water and fertilise my bias six times before breakfast. I should certainly hope it's showing."

"Does it not require pruning from time to time?" The amused hint of rumble was present in Izuru's throat.

"Never. Let it bloom like crazy." He rose, discarded the clippings, and had barely washed his hands - and not dried them at all - when he was plucked off his feet and snuggled without mercy.

It bears saying that he surrendered to the punishment rather more willingly than Izuru had the crime.

[thecoffeelorian]

"On Another Track", Part 1 (Post Stex Headcanons!)

special notes before we begin--In case I didn't mention it before...I'm getting through the first re-watch of what I'm sure is a Bochum performance dubbed over in English, so in case everything doesn't quite add up yet, it should be better by the time I'm finished with the next two parts.

Second, I've seen the character of Electra described with both the pronoun sets of 'he/him' and 'they/them' in this fandom, so it only seemed fair to continue this in my writing just in case it really is both.

Third, I'm writing this version of Greaseball as a person whose own school bus bully had to rethink his entire life after almost dying in a car accident...so, this one in particular might (re) grow up a lot more during the course of this little experiment.

And fourth, but also the most important...in no way are the villains described in this going to end up winning. ;)

That being said, here is the first installment on what I think could continue the Starlight Express plotline, if by some odd chance it got transformed into an animated film sequel and had a few horror elements added to it.

no pressure tags:

@m1dgemodge @why-do-i-even-need-a-username98 @chlorophyll99 @dandelionsdaydreams @marleydoesinfactmoo

@freaksterrrrr @crowchildman @dontknowwhenispawned @smelly-welly69420 @originalwinnerfanfish

@eddiesmainblog @waterysoap45 @pizzalover346 @wrenchelectrasrepairtruck @oraleandreu

@ariannawith2ns @dream-girl-evill @ofthe-valley666 @azraelzspace @gun-roswell !!

DINAH:

First things first…Dinah was right about the cheating.

So right, in fact, that one fateful day, she finds herself promoted to the new Track Safety Council, a new invention created by the Track Marshals and effective immediately. Dinah is joined in this by Joule, who, thanks to a certain accident in their employer’s judgment, is perhaps out of work and in need of a new occupation. As these four start putting their minds together and plan for the next race, there’s the underlying sentiment, however vague, that maybe there shouldn’t be any more Cabooses allowed to compete no thanks to the last one that very nearly ruined it for everybody else. When the time comes for someone to ask about just where C.B. is now, however, Dinah firmly responds that she’s cut off all contact, and is more than ready to forget they ever spoke in the first place.

After all, there’s a new champion in town, and they all should start thinking of the future.

RUSTY:

The focus then shifts to Rusty, who’s more or less basking in the limelight after his first-ever victory. Remember all that flak he received from darn near everyone for daring to enter the race…? Well, buckle up, naysayers, because he’s using his brand-new influence as this year’s champion to effect a little change around here. According to a post-race interview with the Press Truck, his first task is keeping one gear to the ground to weed out all future cheaters…but second on the list, maybe it’s time to expand both the freight yard AND the adjacent garage for a few “additional guests”. And who’s at the top of this guest list? That’s right, everybody…

PEARL:

Pearl might not have won the championship, but she sure won the champion’s heart—and, to the delight of everyone at the freight yard, she just might be moving in there to stay. This means that her social circle just got five times bigger, and that’s just the minimum! Remember Dustin, the Big Hopper…? Well, take a seat at the table, girlie, because he’s her big brother now.

The same goes for all three of The Hip-Hoppers, because even though they don’t give free rides to hitchhikers, they’ll certainly make an exception for her so that she never feels left behind.

Flat-Top is still a little shy around her as she's still very much new to him...yet, he manages to promise her a look at his 'secret brick collection', a thing he only shows off to trains he makes friends with.

Oh, and as far as Poppa McCoy is concerned, she’s allowed over for dinner whenever she needs it, no questions asked.

In other words, welcome to the Freight Family, a sentiment that hits home as soon as Rusty returns, and goes straight in for a kiss as the others erupt in cheers and applause.

However.

There’s a brief scene in an area lit only by an active fireplace, the flames reaching almost to the top of the stonework as a lone figure in a dark leather chair awaits news of the race’s complete results. It’s here that a nameless Assistant, their face completely hidden by a piston helmet, skates in with a copy of the local newspaper…but doesn’t go any further than the door, as something about that newspaper has made them far too terrified to share it with their ‘Boss’. This same boss, his own face backlit into shadow by the fire, smugly invites the Assistant to give him ‘the great news’, as it shouldn’t be any different than all the races before.

Once the paper’s in his hand and he gives it a hard look, though…that’s when all hell seems to break loose, for only a few seconds later, this ‘Boss’ is crumpling the paper up in one fist as his furious shout of “MCCOYYYYYYY!” is both a question and a curse as the fire goes out, plunging that area into total darkness.

Back at the Coaches’ Club…it’s getting just a teensy bit quiet around here. The international engines like Espresso and Turnov have all returned to their respective garages back home; Pearl’s possibly moving out; Dinah’s busy doing who knows what these days, and oh yeah…zero sign of Greaseball since “The Big Crash”.

In fact, it’s now becoming SO lonely that Ashley wonders out loud—in between cigarettes, of course—whether or not they might even have positions any more, since the focus might be solely on Rusty and Pearl as the next “powered-up couple” and very little attention is given to those who don’t get first place.

Buffy tries to remain optimistic, since the next race is still many months away and, if Rusty’s victory proves it, literally anything can happen. After she voices her concern that more steamers might show up for that next race, though, and all of them with their own coaches already, that’s when Ashley wonders if “anything” having the chance to happen might be the worst thing of all.

Cue a faint whistling in the distance, one that sounds an awful lot like the notes of C.B.’s signature tune…and then it’s back to Joule and Dinah.

Joule starts grilling Dinah just a little about her 'checkered history' with a certain dishonest engine, and wonders out loud whether or not there will be any 'conflicts of interest' going forward. Dinah, on the other hand, states that her own conscience is clear, and then goes on to hint that this 'dishonest engine' Joule just referred to is about to learn a few more tough lessons after his 'accident'…beginning with his successful conversion to steam.

Cut back to the Freight Family, who by this time has gone into full celebration mode. Sweet little Rusty is faking a dramatic struggle as the Hip-Hoppers move in, messing up his hair, giving bear hugs, giving pretend interviews about what it feels like to dethrone Greaseball, all the things that big brothers do. Poppa McCoy watches all of this in silent amusement, as his boy has now grown up, found a Coach, and everything feels like it's all uphill from here.

Once Rusty finally begs Pearl to come save him from the avalanche, she laughs a little before pulling him away, asking the others to 'let the champ breathe'. It's here that Rusty starts playing the interview game, and asks her 'what's next for the greatest Coach in the world'. Pearl admits that she's still figuring things out as she goes along, but at least she won't have to do it by herself any more.

At this moment, Pearl has settled in a little; yet at the same time, she knows that there are a few faces missing, and doesn’t waste any time asking after Electra and Greaseball. Electra answers this question himself by making a dramatic entrance, complete with the announcement, “Pardon the interruption, but The Patient is awake”. Flat-Top automatically disappears out of view after this, as he seems to be the one who’s either volunteered or been drafted to look after them. Either way, he’s gone for a small amount of time, as the actions off-screen/backstage are currently unclear.

Meanwhile, the focus is certainly upon Electra, as there are a few who seem genuinely concerned about them all of a sudden. Electra himself doesn’t appear too devastated by the accident, however, as suggested by the direct quote of “I’ve had worse”.

Just the same, though, he reluctantly follows up by stating that Wrench, aka “The Repair Truck”, might be needed for a little while longer—or, at least, until they can all be sure that this ‘Steam Conversion’ procedure doesn’t turn out to do more harm then good. Pearl, after beginning to put two and two together, asks if she should go and get Dinah here as well, for it’s now almost a given as to who “The Patient” is—and, after a few things in the back get knocked over and Flat-Top’s yelling for them to get the freight back here…out comes old Greaseball himself, his chest wrapped in bandages and the visible bits of a new boiler vest underneath. He’s probably entered the disorientation phase of waking up as a Steamer, too, because he has to actually stop and give himself a good knock on the plates in order to remember just what he signed himself up for.

GREASEBALL:

With a bit more extra weight on top and no more juice to get out of there, however, Greaseball attempts to gun the engines and automatically collapses due to no fuel. Pearl takes the awkward silence that follows as her cue to go get Dinah; Flat-Top comes along just in time to haul Greaseball off the ground, and the rest of the Freight Family are either hanging back cautiously, asking if now’s the time to introduce Greaseball to ‘Coal Flakes’, or, in Rusty's case, watching him like a hawk with narrowed eyes just in case he tries anything stupid later.

As for Electra, they just can't help but casually comment that the fastest train in the world isn’t speeding his way out of this one.

Cut back to Ashley, who is now by herself after Buffy has exited the scene for a time. She happens upon an old poster of all four Coaches posing as though for a photo booth, and visibly looks wistful over the thought that they might all be going their separate ways.

At this same time, she isn't quite paying attention as a nearby voice asks her if she's also 'missing the old days', as well as whether or not she'd like to see her group come together again. Thinking that Buffy has returned, Ashley does her best to shrug it all off, as ‘not every Coach sticks around forever’ even if she'd like them to. The voice takes on an impatient, even demanding tone, though, and insists that Ashley herself 'might not last very long' now that steam is about to make a comeback. Unable to ignore her curiosity, Ashley passes through an unseen gate to reveal the impounded C.B., his wheels supposedly locked up so that he can't attempt any more train crashes.

C.B.:

Upon hearing Ashley's question as to why he wasn't torn apart after his own accident, C.B. merely laughs and suggests that it will take a lot more than one mistake to derail him. He also puts the idea into Ashley's head that if she 'ever wants to see her friends again...perhaps it's time to start doing some derailing of her own’.

One more scene between Dinah and Pearl follows after this one, during which Pearl’s asking her to come to the freight yard as expected. Dinah automatically guesses that the ‘rebuilding procedure’ may have been successful, yet just the same has to ask whether or not ‘somebody (Greaseball) is causing trouble again’. Pearl reassures her that ‘the odds are way more in Rusty’s favor now’, yet just the same believes her being there may keep things relatively calm between everyone. As Dinah follows her out, though, the echoes of C.B.’s theme are still replaying in her memory, for even though she and Greaseball may have reconciled…well, there’s always the chance of his old “habits” coming back in other ways.

On a different track, though, as day is turning into night and the surrounding landscape grows dark…there are a few seconds where everything suddenly becomes a dark shade of red, the same sinister voice belonging to ‘The Boss’ orders ‘The Assistant’ to wake up ‘The Other Six’, and that they’ve got some work to do—then the scenery goes back to normal right before all fades to black.

End Part One.

[planetst4r]

Baby Babble

A Turnov x Caboose fanfic (VodkaBrakes)

Read below the GIF!

↓↓↓

It was a cold, bitter day in Turnov's family railyard. The railroads had ceased operation for the day due to the immense snow build up, which was common for Russia during a blizzard. Turnov and Caboose had been snowed into their shed, and normally they would take turns going out to work each day. Since that wasn't possible, they found it the perfect opportunity to spend some much-needed quality time with their baby trainlet, Snezhinka, as a family.

Caboose was in the kitchen, sipping on some vanilla coffee as he spoke to Dinah on the radio through his mic. the two had started calling each other weekly after Caboose had moved to Russia, and the calls seemed to go on and on for hours - At least to Turnov's perspective.

Turnov was in the dining room, entertaining Snezhinka by playing peek a boo, pulling silly faces, things you wouldn't expect a mean, gruff engine to do. But in reality, Turnov had a soft side, which he saved for his family and friends.

"Aren't you the cutest little engine in the whole of Russia?" Turnov cooed with a thick accent, holding out the newborn engine in front of him proudly.

He expected her to reply with just some normal baby babble, but today she said something else.

"Da!" the little engine exclaimed. her little arms reaching out for her daddy.

Oh my starlight. did she just... reply in russian?

Turnov stared at Snezhinka for a few seconds, slightly wide eyed. The trainlet let out a little chuckle at what she thought was her daddy pulling another silly face.

The russian engine looked over his shoulder to Caboose, who was still chatting happily on his radio.

"Caboose..?"

Caboose's head turned around, covering his mic.

"Just a minute!" He said, before going back to talking with Dinah.

"I'll get back to ya in a sec hun, Novvy is callin' me for somethin'." He said before putting the call on hold and placing his radio headset on the kitchen counter.

The shorter male skated towards the two in the dining room

"Yes?" Caboose asked.

By this point Turnov was sounding like he was about to cry. He was so emotional over something so small, something you couldn't expect from a man like Turnov.

"She just said "yes" in Russian..!" Turnov said in a wobbly voice, a proud smile on his face; yet he still looked and sounded like he was about to burst out in happy tears.

Caboose jokingly scoffed, crossing his arms and cocking his hip as he raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure it wasn't just baby babble?" Caboose asked with a smirk, chuckling a bit at Turnov's overreaction.

Turnov pretended to be offended, cradling Snezhinka close to him.

"Hey! so what? You never know.." Turnov said, defending their trainlet as he looked down at her, tears swelling up in his eyes. "Oh, my little princess, embracing her culture! such a clever girl!" The taller male cooed at Snezhinka, who cooed back.

Their little conversation was quickly overtaken by Turnov repeatedly saying "Yes you are! Oh yes you are Умница!" while the small engine giggled in his arms.

Caboose playfully rolled his eyes, planting a kiss on Turnov's cheek before skating back into the kitchen to continue his long weekly talk with Dinah.

End of fic <3 thank you for reading! ❤️🖤🩶🤍

[viccyfics]

Angst prompt 7 for CB/Turnov?

Thank you :]

Thank you for the prompt!

(prompt list)

READ UNDER THE CUT OR ON AO3

“I’ll only be gone for a few weeks,” Turnov frowned, stroking his thumb across the back of CB’s neck, “And I’ll call you whenever I can, okay?”

CB’s eyes were on the ground, he couldn’t look up at the Engine, he couldn’t risk Turnov seeing him cry, especially not over something so ridiculous, he knew Turnov would come back, “I know,” he muttered.

“I’m not leaving you, you know that, right?” Turnov said gently, continuing to rub CB’s neck, his other hand holding onto his bag, “It’s just a job.”

CB gave a jerky nod, still refusing to meet his eyes, his hands were shoved into his pockets, fiddling with a screw he’d forgotten was in there, his shoulders hunched making their height difference worse.

“What is this about?” Turnov sighed, not annoyed or mad, but worried.

“It’s nothing.”

“CB-”

“I’m fine.” CB spat pushing himself away, out of Turnov’s hold, “Just go, I’m just tired.”

“Are you sure?”

CB didn’t answer, he was trying to fight the urge to run back to his room so he wouldn’t have to see Turnov leave, and so he could avoid this conversation, but he couldn’t his wheels were locked in places, and he hadn’t done that with his brake lever, he was…nervous.

“I don’t want to leave like this,” Turnov spoke, taking a step closer, “I don’t want to leave you when you’re like this.”

“You don’t have a choice.” CB scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “You have to go.”

Turnov shifted the bag on his shoulder, the second one in his hand making his arm ache, but he didn’t put them down on the floor like he wanted to, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

CB flinched, his shoulders jerking up, his head going down and his eyes squeezing shut. He didn’t mean to but he couldn’t help it, and Turnov saw it, he always saw it when CB flinched.

And still, Turnov didn’t push, he closed the gap that CB had made but didn’t touch him, “CB... I will come back.”

CB bit the inside of his cheek, why couldn’t he have just acted like everything was fine until Turnov was gone? And now the Engine was going to be late to get to the station and it was going to be his fault, just because he couldn’t calm himself down, his mind was spinning.

“…You said that before” CB gasped trying to stop himself from crying, “Or someone did. Same words. Same smile, Same ‘I’ll call, I’ll come back.’ Never did.”

Turnov’s eyes widened in confusion, “That wasn’t me.”

CB swallowed, The screw in his pocket bit into his palm where he was gripping it too tight, “I know. I just…”

“I’m coming back,” Turnov said firmly, “You hear me?”

CB nodded slowly, finally lifting his head to look at Turnov, “You promise you’ll call?”

“I promise, Every chance I get. I don’t care if it’s two minutes between refuels, I’ll call.”

CB nodded again, but his jaw was clenched, and his hands were shaking, and as he pulled them out of his pockets, the screw fell to the floor with a tiny ping. Turnov’s eyes went down to it, his eyebrow raising in confusion, but he didn’t say anything.

“Just don’t forget,” CB whispered, reaching out to wrap his arms around Turnov, careful to avoid the bags.

“I could never forget about you, мой хороший.” Turnov gladly pulled CB against him, rubbing small circles on his back, feeling the Caboose shake against him, dreading leaving him, but they both knew he had to go, he didn’t have a choice.

“I really need to go,” Turnov muttered after a moment, pressing a kiss to the crown of CB’s head, “I’ll call when we get to our first break, I promise.”

CB pulled away slowly, his eyes wet with tears as he looked up at Turnov, but he nodded, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Turnov had only been gone for four days, but CB was struggling, far more than he thought he would be. Even though Turnov had called nine times, it wasn’t helping as much as he would have liked. His hands were shaking, his legs too, he couldn’t seem to get control of his breathing or just how paranoid he was becoming, not even Dinah and Greaseball had been able to calm him down.

CB paced around his shed, his toolbox had fallen a few hours earlier but he couldn’t get a hold of himself enough to pick it up just yet, watching the screws, nails and tools as he paced, focusing on them rather than what Turnov was doing.

Maybe if he focused hard enough Turnov would come back.

His chest was starting to hurt and his shallow breaths weren’t helping, his oven was hauntingly cold despite the fact he never had it lit…but it was that night. The night he was left a few stations away from the Union Pacific Yard, the night his family left him behind, the night he was abandoned and taken in by Poppa.

“Just wait here CB,” His brother chuckled, tipping the brim of his hat down, “We’ll be back before you even know it.”

“I’ll call,” His father smiled from where he was standing a few feet away, “I’ll come back.”

CB didn’t question why they were leaving him by himself at the station, but they were his family; he had no reason to think anything was wrong.

“Just keep your radio on, okay?” His mother added before she coupled to her husband, “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“ I love you!” CB yelled, watching as his family rolled away, practically an entire yard, all rolling away from him, leaving him in charge of the station, just a little child, but he could do it, he knew he could.

He remembered sitting still on that rusty bench for hours, just like they’d told him to.

He didn’t cry when he felt lonely, he didn’t wander when he got bored, he didn’t panic when the cold night air was biting at his skin, making him want his family back. So he kept his oven on, a small warmth within his chest to help him feel better, hoping the animals in the woods weren’t paying him too much attention, replaying his mother’s words in his head like a lullaby “Just keep your radio on.”

So he did.

He waited, and waited…and waited.

Night turned to day and he refused to move, day turned to night and yet he stayed still on the bench, feeling his body weaken and his oven fire start to dim, he was so tired, so hungry…and so lonely.

But he kept waiting.

“Come on CB,” he groaned rubbing a hand over his face, “They told you to sit still, and they’ll be back soon they promised.”

But no matter how much he talked to himself, any four year old would have still gotten lonely, but he didn’t stop believing they’d be back soon, family don’t lie.

That was until the sixth day.

Most trains that ran through had ignored him, or only given him a small wave, but none of them were his family.

“Are you alright?” A voice snapped CB out of his thoughts, a steamer stood in front of him, an old steamer, with a concerned look on his face.

“I’m waiting for my family.” CB replied, sitting up a little straighter, just like he’d been told to do when talking to adults.

“And where are they?”

“I-” CB paused, they hadn’t told him where they were going, they just said they’d be back soon, “I don’t know.”

The steamer’s eyes widened in horror, “Oh…” he breathed, crouching down to CB’s level “How long have you been waiting here, little one?”

CB blinked at him, counting on his fingers how many times the sun had come up and gone down. “…Six,” CB whispered, not wanting to believe his own math, “Six days.”

The steamer’s expression darkened, looking at the little caboose, this child sitting obediently on the bench, his fire barely glowing, soot smudged across his face, red-rimmed eyes too tired for someone so small. “What’s your name?” he asked gently.

“CB.”

“Well, CB…” The steamer smiled, reaching a hand out to help pull him off the bench, “Why don’t you come with me? We’ll find a nice warm place for you, and I’ll help you get back to your family.”

“They said to stay here,” CB said quickly, shrinking a little. “They said they’d come back.”

“I know,” the steamer frowned, “I know they did. But six days is a long time to leave someone waiting…especially someone so little.”

CB looked back down the track, waiting, hoping to see his family come back into view, but he knew, deep down, they weren’t coming back, they’d left him here on purpose, he was the youngest, a hazard, unreliable, so they ditched him.

“My name’s Poppa,” the steamer said finally. “I’ve got a yard not far from here. It’s not fancy, but it’s warm, and we can have someone else keep watch for your parents, okay?”

CB swallowed. “Will they be mad at me? If I leave?”

Poppa shook his head quickly, “Of course not, they’d want you to be safe wouldn’t they?”

And just like he said, Poppa did send engines out to keep watch, but as the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, there was no sign of the Cabooses, no radio signal or anything, they’d abandoned him not caring what happened while they were gone.

What if Turnov did the same?

What if Turnov finally realised he deserved more than CB and didn’t come back, it wasn’t like he worked at this yard, he only visited, even if he visited more often than anyone assumed he would when they started dating, maybe Turnov really did finally leave him.

“CB?” Turnov’s voice cut through the air, the staticky sound coming from his radio sitting on the table, “Are you there, дорогой?”

CB stumbled at the sound of Turnov’s voice, almost tripping over a wrench as he scrambled toward the table, quickly placing his radio over his ears, "I'm here,” he breathed, voice tight and strained, “I’m here.”

There was a pause, a soft crackle on the other end, then Turnov’s voice again, “You sound awful. What’s going on?”

“I’m fine,” CB lied, he couldn’t trouble Turnov with this, not while he was working, it wasn’t fair.

“Are you sick?”

CB shook his head then remembered Turnov couldn’t see him, “I’m fine, just-” he glanced around the shed, he was messy normally but this was just bad, empty food cartons Dinah had brought him lying around, cans and bottles chucked wherever, the couch practically torn apart, it was a mess, worse than it had been in awhile, “Just missing you.”

Turnov let out a small chuckle, “Well you won’t have to miss me for long, we’re coming back early.”

CB felt his heart speed up, “What, why?”

“Do I need a reason to come back to you?”

CB could feel his eyes start to tear up, “I guess not.”

“I’m about five minutes away,” Turnov chuckled again, “So you better clean up whatever mess you’ve made, okay?”

CB let out a choked laugh, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve as he looked around at the chaos “…I’ll try,”

Turnov was coming back. He’d kept his word.

“Listen, I’ve got to go, but five minutes okay?”

“I’ll see you soon.”

The radio shut off with a beep, sending CB over to the fallen tool box, he shoved the scattered screws and tools back into the box as best as he could. He was throwing wrappers and boxes into the bin...or as close to the bin as he could when from outside he heard the familiar rumble of Turnov’s wheels against the track. The sound grew louder, more distinct, and then there it was, a low horn, Turnov’s horn, announcing himself as he rolled back into the yard.

CB stopped what he was doing and ran towards the door, he didn’t care about the mess Turnov had told him to clean up, it didn’t matter, that could wait until he had Turnov back in his arms again. He threw the door open with a thud, becoming face to face with the Engine.

“You really couldn’t wait, huh?” Turnov teased, setting his bags down just outside the shed.

CB didn’t respond, he launched himself forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Turnov’s middle, burying his face against his chest.

“I missed you,” CB whispered.

Turnov wrapped his arms around him, “I missed you too, I’m here now.”

Turnov had come back, Turnov was his real family, and he’d come back, just like he said he would.

[kade-is-here]

RvB Secret Santa for @funsizedcrow!

(@redvsbluesecretsanta)

I chose to write a WashNut fanfiction-it’s my first time writing a ship fic, and I only had a vague idea of what I was doing. Happy holidays, and I hope you enjoy!

(Forgive me if it’s cringe >_<)

Drabble One: Love Between a State and a Pastry

God, Donut had no right being that hot.

The simulation trooper had a habit of swinging his hips every which way and cracking inappropriate jokes like a middle schooler fresh out of the closet. In reality, both of those traits should’ve been an immediate red flag to Washington, who had sworn on his life on multiple occasions that he was straighter than the eastern border of the state he was named after. So, why was this lightish-red soldier that liked to hold wine-and-cheese hours and bake vegetarian cupcakes making Wash’s cheeks flush on more than one occasion?

Speaking of the wine-and-cheese hours, Caboose had a habit of dragging Agent Washington to them whenever he could. At first, his actions were annoying to Wash. Of course, after what happened with Church/Epsilon and Temple, Wash couldn’t exactly say no. But now he was happy to go along with the sim trooper.

“And this one,” Donut exclaimed, holding up a glass of some kind of red wine, “is called Pinot Noir, which goes well with Brie!”

Donut-Franklin Delano Donut-watched happily as the Reds and three Blues(Carolina, Wash, and Caboose) indulged in their own wine glasses and small porcelain plates with the creamy white cheese spread on crackers. Wash didn’t want to admit it, but he almost forgot to actually drink his wine until Caboose made a face after sipping his own and handed the glass to him.

Good god, Wash thought as he stared at Donut, something about those eyes and something about that face just-

“Wash,” Caboose piped up, “this tastes gross.”

Donut sighed, stepping in front of Caboose. “Y’know, Boosey, a little birdie told me that you come here for the cheese and crackers and not the wine!” He teased, his blue eyes crinkling upwards as he smiled, even the one on the burned side of his face.

“A little birdie?!” Caboose gasped. “Admiral Sprinkles, you never told me that you had a bird!”

“It’s an expression, Captain. But I’m sure that Wash would be happy to finish off your fancy grape juice!” Donut turned those brilliant blues towards Agent Washington. If Wash was an AI, he was sure that he would’ve short-circuited. God, this was cheesy.

“Yeah, sure,” Washington said after clearing his throat a few times to make sure that his words wouldn’t come out as awkward squeaks. He took the glass from Caboose’s much larger fingers, sipping at it.

Wash almost made a face too, but he tried to be polite. “It’s, uh… earthy,” he offered, trying to use terms from those wine websites he browsed before going to the meetup. Not because I want to impress anyone, he told himself, but because I don’t want to look stupid or out-of-place.

“Donut, I hate to burst your bubble here, but this tastes a bit like the piss of a dirty Blue!” Sarge spoke up.

“How do you know what Blue piss tastes like?” Carolina challenged Sarge.

“I- why, you-“ Sarge spluttered for a whole three seconds, before glaring at the redhead, his white mustache bristling. “You scheming, conniving Blue!”

Okay, so maybe Wash didn’t have to worry about being out-of-place.

Washington ended up receiving a lot of glasses of wine from Caboose. He passed several of them to Donut, who seemed to have the alcohol tolerance of an African Water Buffalo. Seriously, how does a guy drink that many glasses of wine and not even have a wobble in his hip-swinging step?

After the hour was up, Sarge seemed intent on getting the Blues out of Red Base.

That fact was obvious by the way that as soon as he had his helmet back on his head he bellowed, “GET YER FILTHY BLUE ASSES OUTTA HERE!”

“Actually, Sarge,” Donut hummed as he stepped in, “I’d like for Agent Washington to stay behind to help with the dishes.”

“Why, you insubordinate little-!”

“Thanks!” Donut chirped as he hooked his arm through Wash’s, doing a little twirl before leading him to the kitchen as Sarge continued yelling curses and threats about doing pushups or washing the windows and whatnot at their backs. Donut ignored the older soldier like a pro.

“All these dishes need to be hand-washed. If someone didn’t take a bite out of their food, set it aside. Otherwise, toss it. The wine gets poured down the drain.” Donut commanded him, suddenly holding quite a bit of superiority over the former Freelancer. It reminded Wash of the whole time-traveling shenanigan, and how impressive the pink soldier could be when he asserted himself.

“Roger,” Washington replied, nodding. Donut got to work putting away the leftover food and putting away the plates and glasses, while Wash washed(hah) and dried the dishes. They worked in silence for a good few minutes, before Donut spoke up again.

“Is there any reason why you were staring at my face so much? Maybe you’re into me, hm?” The latter half was in a teasing tone, but the former was dead serious. The former Freelancer was so startled that he almost dropped the wine glass he was scrubbing. That would’ve been bad. Donut, noticing that, kept talking. “You didn’t cause it, and I know that you’re no stranger to scars, so what’s up?”

Washington took a second to evaluate the risks of telling him. Oh, screw it. I’m brain damaged. If it goes wrong, I could blame it on that.

“Your first assumption was correct.” Wash told Donut, keeping his tone strong and stoic like how he used to tell the higher-ups in the Freelancer program about the results of a mission.

The silence that followed seemed to wrap itself firmly around Agent Washington’s neck.

“…well, then.” Donut mumbled.

“I’m sorry, sometimes I say some things-“ Wash tried to say, but Donut spoke over him with a much brighter voice.

“That just tickles my pickle!”

“What the FUCK, Donut?!” Simmons, who was passing by, yelled, a comedically timed voice crack shoving itself into the middle of his sentence.

“Don’t worry about it, Dick!” Donut singsonged back. Simmons sighed heavily as he continued walking. “Anywho…”

Wash startled when Donut suddenly appeared right next to him. “Well, I’m sure that you’ll be overjoyed to know that I’m into you, too!”

Washington blinked. He had not expected it to go that well. “…oh. Okay, then,” he stammered.

“Do you wanna kiss?” Donut asked.

…well. That was fast. This guy does not mess around, Wash thought.

After staring at the sink full of soapy, dirty dishes, the former Freelancer nodded.

“…affirmative.”

Donut had to stand up on his tiptoes to kiss him, and Washington had to bend down a little, but their mouths fit together perfectly, like two pieces of two completely different puzzles that just so happened to work out.

God, his lips taste as sweet as his name does.

Drabble Two: Agent Washington’s First Sleepover

“YES! HOORAY! I AM SO EXCITED!” Caboose shouted at the top of his lungs, bouncing around the base like a hyperactive puppy. “THANK YOU, TUCKER AND AGENT WASHINGTUB!!!”

The former mentioned soldier sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, Caboose. It was just to get you off my back for a night.” Caboose was either too excited or had heard that line too much to care.

The reason why the big blue soldier was currently off-the-walls was because Wash and Tucker had agreed to allow Donut to come over to the base for a “sleepover.” According to Tucker, events like that had already happened several times; apparently, Donut just told the Reds it was a spy mission. If you can call watching children’s movies and eating cookies out of a stash that Caboose got from who-knows-where spying.

Anyway, it didn’t take much for Washington to agree. There weren’t many chances for him and Donut to hang out, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. Hopefully Caboose would let him join.

Speaking of which, the soldier had started yelling even louder, and had disappeared from the room. His voice, while muffled, was coming from upstairs. Wash, concerned, ran up the stairs to the roof of the base.

“Caboose, what’s-“ Washington started to ask, before cutting himself off.

“HELLO, SERGEANT SPRINKLES!” Caboose bellowed down into the valley, waving with the enthusiasm of three separate Cabooses. Washington stepped up beside him to see if his suspicions were true.

Donut skipped-no joke, skipped-over the hill in front of Blue base, carrying a matching pink duffle bag and waving back. “Hello, Caboose! Hello, Agent Washington!” The lightish-red soldier waved back. Wash raised one his hands to wave, but Donut had already disappeared. And so had Caboose.

Washington muttered a curse, running back down the stairs.

“How could something so big move so quietly and fast?” He mumbled to himself.

Turns out, the two simulation troopers were down in the common room in the barracks, piling pillows and blankets to make a surprisingly well-made pillow fort.

Washington cleared his throat, drawing the attention of both bright blue and deep brown eyes.

“Gentlemen,” he started, attempting to sound all commanding like the leader he was, “I would like to request your permission to join your sleepover.”

Caboose blinked, setting down the chair he was carrying a few feet away from the couch. “…wha?” Sometimes if the soldier wasn’t focused all the way, spoken words jumbled together. Or, at least, that’s what Caboose told him.

“He wants to know if he can join, Caboose,” Donut explained.

“Oh!” Caboose visibly perked up. “Well, Agent Washington, Commander Biscuit and I would have to discuss that.”

The blue and pink soldier turned away from Wash, conversing quietly. At first, Washington was nervous, but then he realized that Caboose was saying “suspicious whispering” and Donut was just murmuring nonsense.

They both turned back to him a few moments later.

“Well, Wash, we talked, and we decided that you can join our sleepover! Yay!” Caboose clapped his hands together, and Donut did jazz hands and echoed that “yay!”

Washington sighed with relief. “Well, what do we do first?”

“First,” Caboose started, suddenly with the seriousness of a commander explaining the risks of a mission, “we build a fort. THEN, WE SIT IN THE FORT AND WATCH MOVIES AND EAT COOKIES!” He yelled that last part, grinning widely.

“Sounds… fun!” Wash tried to sound excited. Honestly, he was just there for Donut. The cookies didn’t sound too bad, though.

First, they all got out of their armor. Washington felt a little awkward without it, but since the other two weren’t wearing theirs, he felt like it’d be awkward if he was the only one.

He helped Donut and Caboose finish up the pillow fort, and then the blue simulation trooper scampered off to fetch the cookies.

“So,” Donut purred, leaning into Wash playfully, “you came here for me, huh?”

Wash sighed, trying to ignore the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe,” he teased, “or maybe I’m just curious and I want cookies.”

“Wouldn’t blame ya,” Donut grinned, leaning back onto a pillow. “Those cookies are better than a guy’s-“

“I FOUND THEM!” Caboose cheered mercifully, barreling into the fort and crashing into a pile of pillows and stuffed animals that Donut had seemed to have arranged for this exact purpose.

The two simulation troopers got the TV working as Wash sat back. He wanted to help, but they insisted that he relax, saying that he was an “honored guest” and that he “deserved to chillax.”

The first movie they watched was Shrek. The former Freelancer ended up sandwiched between Caboose, Donut, and plenty of plushies. Washington ended up counting the passage of time by the amount of cookies they ate(chocolate chip, and almost impossibly rich and buttery) and the movies that passed. Alice in Wonderland, Finding Nemo, The Corpse Bride…

Eventually, Caboose fell asleep, and it was just Donut, Wash, and Coraline.

Donut turned to him eyes twinkling gently in the light from the stop-motion film. “Guess we’re alone now, huh?” Wash found himself nodding back.

“I guess we are,” he agreed. They stared at each other for a moment. Washington didn’t know what Donut was doing, but he knew that he was drinking the sight of his boyfriend-was that the word? Was that what they were?-in like water after a hard P.T session.

Donut leaned his head on Wash’s shoulder, before tilting his face upwards to kiss him on the chin. Washington felt his face flush with warmth, before he leaned his lips down to kiss Donut’s hair.

Rustling and sleepy mumbling from behind them interrupted the two lovers. (Really, was that what they were? Truly?)

“…mmmhhhhh… you two are kissing…” Caboose murmured, looking up at them with barely-open eyes.

“Yeah, Boosey, we are,” Donut told him. “Go back to sleep, buddy.”

“…‘kay.” Caboose rolled back over, his soft snores resuming only a minute later.

“I knew he was an easy sleeper, but wow.” Washington shook his head, mystified. “You’d think he would have questions.”

“Considering what Grif and Simmons do, I don’t think anything really fazes him anymore.” Donut grinned, sitting up and kissing Wash on the cheek.

He paused, before kissing him back. “You wanna go to bed?”

“Yeah, sure,” Donut shrugged, nodding back at the TV, “the movie’s over, anyway.”

He was right; the credits were rolling. Washington leaned forward and turned off the television, laying down on a pile of pillows. Donut laid down next to him, under the same blanket.

“Goodnight, Agent Washington,” Donut whispered into the dark.

“Goodnight, Donut,” Washington found himself whispering back.

Drabble Three: Obligatory Hurt/Comfort(and a li’l bit of a beach episode) TW for violence, gore, nightmares(PTSD), main character death

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit-!

Several sets of heavy footsteps pounded behind Wash-Agent Washington of Project Freelancer-as he ran through the hallways of some ship in some part of the galaxy. Bullets flew all around him, barely missing his gray armor.

Then, more bullets flew towards him. At first he panicked, then he noticed the light blue hologram and the teal armor.

“Carolina-?!” Washington called as the firing on both sides slowed down, then stopped.

The other Freelancer nodded, lowering her gun. “Hey, Wash. Lovely weather we’re having, eh?”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Epsilon muttered. Carolina sighed, shaking her head.

“We gotta move, boys. The other guys are down that hallway.” Carolina pointed to the passage on the right, the walls littered with bullet holes and burn marks. “I’ll be right behind ya.”

Washington nodded, then took off down the hallway. “Hey, I’m here-!” He called as he turned the corner, then stopped in his tracks.

The Reds and the Blues were littered on the floor or slumped against the wall. Actual, it was hard to tell who was Blue; there was so much blood, everyone was the same color as Simmons or Sarge.

“…guys?” Wash croaked hoarsely. “Team? Come on, speak to me-!”

He knelt down in the middle of the bloody mess, crawling around on his hands and knees and shaking the men. No responses, no heartbeats, no nothing—just silence.

Wash’s vision blurred as his shoulders slumped. “Carolina…?” He called. When he didn’t receive a reply, he called again, louder. “Carolina!”

Washington stood up, his armor now covered with the gore of his fallen friends. There was no trace of Carolina, not even when he rounded the corner to look down the hallway.

He tightened his grip on his gun, then almost fired when the toe of his boot hit something.

An AI chip?

With trembling hands, Wash crouched down and picked it up. The numbers on it read 001, which meant that it was Epsilon’s.

If the Alpha was there but Carolina wasn’t, that wasn’t a good sign.

Washington took a deep breath, then felt around the back of his neck until he found the slot for his implant. He gently pushed the chip in.

Just like the first time that Epsilon was in Wash’s head, a pounding headache strong enough to force the Freelancer to his knees took over.

Terrified, angry screams filled his head—some of them his own, some of them the AI’s. The blurriness in his vision became tinted pinkish-red, and the last thing Wash saw before he blacked out was the simulation troopers’ bodies laid down next to him.

And when his eyes shot open again, he was looking at a dimly-lit ceiling with a fan whirring in the center of it.

Wash-Agent Washington of Project Freelancer-gasped and panted, gripping at his head and his neck. The pain was fading, the the implant slot was thankfully empty.

Rustling and sleepy murmurs came from next to him, and the soldier quickly felt under his pillow for his combat knife. It wasn’t there. He didn’t have a weapon.

The person next to him sat up, squinting.

“Wash? Y’okay?” He mumbled, his bleached hair sticking out all over the place before being forcefully flattened by Washington slamming him down. “WHOA-! Wash, it’s me, Donut! Your boyfriend!”

The Freelancer paused. “Boyfriend…?” Wash whispered to himself, before quickly sitting back. “Oh, fuck, Donut, I’m so sorry-“

The simulation trooper sat up again, waving a hand in dismissal, “Oh, it’s fine. I’ve been pushed down harder by smaller men. But are you okay?”

Washington blinked. “…nightmare,” he mumbled in reply after a few seconds.

“Ah.” Donut nodded sagely. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Wash quickly shook his head. “No. No, thank you.”

“Do you wanna go outside and look at the ocean for a little bit?”

Now that Wash said yes to. Donut helped him up since the soldier’s legs were still shaking, put a shirt on(one of Wash’s. Not that he minded, of course), then led him out to the back porch in the rental house they got on Chorus since everyone needed a break.

The lovers headed down the path that led to the beach. The ocean was beautiful; Chorus’ moon, Aria, lit up the water, and the waves gently lapped against the soft sand. Stars covered the entire sky, and in the ocean, little spots of neon blue light made their own constellations.

“Those are the eggs of the coral they have here,” Donut whispered to Wash. “I don’t know why they’re bioluminescent, but it’s pretty nonetheless.”

Washington nodded wordlessly, just staring at him. The cool night breeze that fluttered the leaves of the palm trees by the beach also gently lifted Donut’s hair, still as messy as when he first woke up.

Apparently, the simulation trooper got the memo, because just like the first time they kissed, Donut stood up on the tips of his toes, and Wash leaned down. Their lips pressed together, then pulled apart, and the men just held each other, staring into each other’s eyes before looking out at the ocean.

After they went back to their room, Wash slept soundly, and woke up to the smell of frying bacon and the ocean’s waves crashing outside from the(most likely open) back door.

Donut had stayed beside him the entire night; in fact, the trooper was still asleep and still in Wash’s shirt.

Despite the fact that the rising sun was already casting its light into the room through the gaps in the blinds, Wash-Agent Washington, former soldier of Project Freelancer-decided to stay in bed a little longer. The morning could wait. He was on vacation, after all.

[engine-of-love]

PinkRustedBreaks - Flustering Rusty

Happy Valentine's Day everyone!

When proposing a third person into their relationship, Pearl knew there would be a lot of new territory to cover. Especially with the smart, mischievous red caboose, CB. Since he became her boyfriend's boyfriend, the pink coach had learned a lot more about CB from what she previously knew. From different facets of his behavior, how he shows affection, to vulnerabilities he reveals here and there. There were personality clashes between them sure, but Pearl wanted this arrangement to work, so she learned how to navigate and adapt to the red caboose's way. Rusty was a big help in that area. Speaking of Rusty, the steam train's partners had discovered something they had in common: they both thought it was so cute when Rusty was flustered.

With that little discovery, the two hatched a scheme to fluster him. Pearl added a little tidbit that Rusty emitted puffs of steam from his ears when he was feeling particularly flattered, CB was more than eager to set this for himself. One day, Rusty was on the couch immersed in a book. Pearl and CB stood in the doorway, grinning cheekily. It was time to enact their plan. Pearl went in first, then CB. They made their way to the couch and plopped down on either side of Rusty. The brunette looked up and noticed his partners with a raised eyebrow. "Hello, sweetheart~." Pearl greeted with a lovely smile. "Hello yourself." Rusty replied, a soft smile already gracing his lips. CB took the book out of Rusty's hands. "You wanna take a break from reading? We're much more interesting to look at~." "And we certainly have gorgeous sight to see~." Added Pearl. A pink ting graced Rusty's cheeks. "Uh, what's going on here?"

Pearl giggled. "Can't we just sit here and revel in our darling's handsomeness?" The observation car batted her lashes cutely. CB sported a coyish smirk. He rested his cheek on his palm. "Don't know if you noticed, Rus, but you're real eye-catching~" The tinge on the black and bronze steam train began to grow. "W-What?" "It's true." Pearl piped up. "For example," She reached a hand out and threaded her fingers through his hair. "You have such beautiful hair. So soft and curly~" CB gently turned Rusty's head to his direction. "And those eyes. I could get lost staring into those beautiful browns~" "C-Come on, th-there not that s-special." Stuttered Rusty, his cheeks turning a shade darker. The blond caboose ran a thumb across the steam train's blushing cheek. "Gonna have to disagree with you there, hon"

"Same here." Pearl pressed herself against Rusty a bit. "And you know what else we love about you? Your wonderful personality." The pink coach stroked his arm affectionately. "Yeah. You're so sweet, and kind, and helpful. To mention a hard worker.~" Said CB, also pressing himself closer to Rusty. The steamer in question felt his heart pound with all the compliments. He could feel his face getting hotter. He wasn't complaining about the verbal affection, but he felt like he was going to faint from all the sweetness. Pearl and CB kept going. "Did we mention how strong you are?~" "Yeah, stronger than anyone give you credit for." " And you're so creative and smart too." "You're such a good listener. Like either of us could talk for hours and you'd be so attentive." "Oh! How could we forget about your smile?~" At this point, Rusty's face matched CB's paint scheme. He buried his face in his hands. "Aaah! You're both gonna kill me!" Then it happened, puffs of steam came out of Rusty's ears. "Oh my Starlight! It's true!" CB laughed. Pearl joined him in laughter "I told you!"

The brunette steamer removed his hands from his face. "Hey. Not that I'm complaining, but what were those compliments about?" CB spoke up. "Well, me and Pearlie think it's cute when your flustered, so we planned to do just that. Glad I got to see steam out of your ears, that was cute." Rusty let out a grumble. "So that whole thing was just to tease me into near overheating?" "Of course not." said Pearl. "We may have wanted to see your reaction, but we meant every word we said. We just love you so much~." She and CB simultaneously planted a kiss on their boyfriend's cheeks. Rusty's face turned bright red again, and puffs of steam came out of his ears, earning another round of laughter from his partners.

[bearbait-adventures]

RvB Pacific Rim AU: Day 3 @rvbrarepairweekdos

Where the AI are all Jaegars, and the Freelancers are all pilots.

Think about it. The inevitable closeness that comes from being inside someone else's head the compatibility testing. The potential for hurt of losing a partner.

Maybe Freelancer is experimenting with AI to remove the need for a second pilot, but it goes wrong. Maybe that's what happened to Washington. Epsilon ultimately failed and left the neural load all on Washington's brain, leaving him with brain damage and then removed from the program, demoted. Caboose is the only pilot on record for defeating a Kiaju while solo-piloting a Jaeger. At least, that's what the files said. Washington has read all of it. Most of it was redacted, however. It's probably a bunch of top secret nonsense anyway. Washington's convinced, though. If anyone can get him back in the cockpit again. It has to be Michael J. Caboose. Caboose at first glance, well he looks impressive. He's built like a tank, it got Washington's hopes up... And then Caboose spoke and any hopes Wash had in the man, died right there. At first anyway...

Washington is terrified, his training simulation has hit scarily close to home and his mind is spinning, spiraling, he can't make sense of it. He's chasing the rabbit in his own mind, what's left of Epsilon's memories leading him on a chase that never ends. he can vaguely make out someone talking to him people shouting orders around him, but it's like he's in a fishbowl. He can't make it out, it's just echoing sound. Nonsense. Something big, a body, a person moves everyone else away.

Initializing neural handshake. Handshake in 3... 2... 1. Washington hasn't drifted with another living person in a very long time. He usually chooses to train with "Sarah" the brain in a jar, she's less volatile no real or fresh emotions. So when the drift shifts to include this new person. There's a rush, like jumping out of a plane stomach swirling adrenaline as the two minds become one. And then it's calm. Suddenly. Everything is still. A wide ocean in front of him reflecting the moon and stars above. He can't explain it but he just 'knows' the ocean is deep and he 'knows' that it's covering something. Something that he should never uncover. A deep sorrow. Handshake Successful! 100% and holding. "Hello, Agent Washingtub." He feels the big man. He's covering him, he's protecting him. Relief floods his body like he's never felt before. like Caboose is holding the world up around him. "Hello, Caboose." Washington can feel the smile, He can feel how happy he just made Caboose with something as simple as a grateful hello. "You were... Chasing the bunny... You know... You shouldn't do that... You could scare it away." Caboose chides him in a way only he can. "I'm sorry, Caboose. I won't chase the rabbi- bunny again. And Caboose?" "Yes, Agent Washingtub?" "Thank you. Michael." "You are... Very welcome... David."

[crescentblossom66]

First Train on the Moon Part 2

Here's part two. It's significantly longer than part 1, but I think it turned out great. I took elements from the science express and beta train rush and even alpha version of Grooves makes an appearance. I hope you liked the second part of your delayed birthday present @nasubeenwithcat

Everything was a blur, people were panicking and freaking out. The passengers were, like him, being lifted into the air by some unseen force. Connor couldn't believe his own eyes when he caught a glimpse of the outside. He saw the rails...which was highly unusual as the train normally obviously ran on those. “Everyone, stay calm! This is probably just a temporary thing!” He hoped so, yet very much doubted it. It was likely the doing of the science owls. As he struggled to get anywhere, now that he was floating basically at the ceiling, he thought that Redd, who normally tended to the science owls...when he actually did his job, might know more. Wait! Redd! He was outside earlier!

With a new found worry that only piled up onto the fear he was already feeling, the black-clad bird pushed himself toward the caboose tearing open the door. “HELP!” The sight he was greeted with made the breath in his lungs hitch. His red-feathered brother was gripping the railing of the caboose tightly, his legs being pulled up as if a harsh wind was coming from right under him.

The yellow owl extended a wing, making sure to stay inside the train cart, grabbing the frame of the door with one talon while reaching his other out to toward Redd. “Redd, grab me wing!” The red owl had gritted his beak as he looked up at his older brother with despair and fear, reaching out one wing to grab the offered wing.

“Connor, am I glad ta see ye!” After missing a few times, due to turbulence, Connor managed to pull Redd into the cart, not without getting dangerously close to slipping off the door frame and being sucked out into the air. “Thanks fer savin' me. I thought I was gonna meet me maker out there. What the peck is goin' on!?”

“I was hopin' ye knew somethin'!” They could still hear the people panicking over in the passenger compartment. Redd was shaking with panic when Connor grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to get him to focus. “Yer the one who's around the science owls fer the most part. Have ye heard anythin', anythin' that can help us figure out what we're dealin' with here?”

After composing himself by taking a few deep breaths, Redd spoke in a shaky and fearful voice. “An anti-gravity device. I-I thought it was hogwash, but...” It all but confirmed the suspicion that the science owls had something to do with it.

“I'm gonna try and see if I can get other there.” Trying to keep a level head in this situation, the yellow owl made his way over to the passenger cart to reach the one that the owls used for their experiments. On his way there, he found Walter as he was passing through. His gaze shifted to him briefly, the relief of seeing his brother safe clear on his face to him only, as he addressed the crowd..

“Stay as calm as you can. We will resolve the issue posthaste. Please make sure to stay away from the windows and find something to hold on to!” Walter tried his best to keep the passengers calm with moderate success while Connor squeezed past him, finding his green feathered brother who obviously wasn't doing too well. Greg was flailing around wildly, nearly slapping the bird that opened the door to the science room with a wing. Telling Greg to calm down when he was panicking like that was a fool's errand. He painfully recalled the day that the yellow clad owl had curled up in a ball, weeping like a chick when the news of their fathers illness reached him. It took him at least a year to recover to the point that he could function again after their pa's passing. He reacted the same after hearing that their fifth sibling, Alfred, had gone missing after spending some time in Subcon Forest. His cooking was sorely missed, just as much as his optimistic attitude.

“Hang in there, Greg. I'll find out what's goin' on.” He could only see the unbridled fear and pure terror in the green bird's eyes. Connor couldn't even imagine just what kind of horror scenarios were torturing the mind of his younger brother. All he got as an answer was a quiet whimper and a nod.

As soon as he reached the room. He saw the science owls high fiving each other and cheering as they floated in the air. “Success!” One of them yelled, raising a fist in the air triumphantly. “After years of persistent failures, our unyielding resolve finally bore fruit!” As he got closer, he could make out the same device that the owls were working on when he walked through the compartment around an hour ago. So this was the culprit for the mass hysteria that was now plaguing their train.

Even though burst of anger were not a common thing with him, he now felt his blood boil. Not only did they endanger the other passengers, but they also caused more stress to his brothers. But the thing that angered him the most is that they did to the train, the same train that his father had spent years to build, the very same one that his father had taught them how to operate and run, the only thing that the old owl had left them after his death. The train, his home, was now floating around in midair. “Hey, ye peck necks, get us back down ta the ground! Yer scarin' the passengers and yer messin' with a family heirloom here!” The sheer volume and rage in his voice made the science owls flinch and turn their heads toward him, looking like deer caught in headlights. “Get us back ta the ground, NOW!”

If the sudden flip in personality from kind and easy going to rage-filled and imposing wasn't going to make the owls shiver, it was the fact that he looked looked like he was going to tear them to shreds with his own talons. “Uh...yeah...about that. We didn't build in a way to reverse the effects.” For a moment Connor just stared at them like they were from another planet, the sheer incompetence of the normally intelligent lab-coat-wearing birds was leaving him speechless.

“What! Ye mean ta tell me that ye build a strange thingamajig that is able ta break the laws of physics by makin' a train float, yet ye didnae think of a way ta stop it again?!” He balled his talons to fists, trying hard to regain his composure. “Any way ye can get us back down?”

“One of the owl, clearly the one science owl that couldn't read the tension in room, spoke up.”We're not just going to switch it off, now that we managed a breakthrough! We're advancing birdkind at a rapid pace and you're trying to make us quit now?!” Some of the other science owls were trying hard to make the agitated science owl stop talking after seeing that the train conductor they were arguing with was starting to lose the shred of composure that he had worked hard to retain.

“TO PECK WITH SCIENCE!”

Kicking the device was undoubtedly a bad decision as the moment he did so, it started to go into some kind of overdrive, flinging him and the science owls to the ceiling, slamming him against it and make him and the owls yell out in pain as they got briefly felt like their bones were going to snap. He could see everything spin briefly as a moment later they were flung around violently before everything stopped and he fell to the the left wall of the train which had now become it's ground.

Everything ached, he felt like his whole body was broken as he groaned and tried to keep the unconsciousness at bay. He was more or less able to, sitting up and blinking until his vision returned back to normal. He looked around, the science owls were out cold and the equipment they had that wasn't mounted to the floor was either broken or dented. He was lucky that none of it hit him as they got whiled around. He froze when he took a glance out the now shattered windows, they landed in some sort of city, yet it wasn't one he was familiar with. Groaning again as he forced his body into cooperation, he got to his feet and went to check on the other carts. He noticed Greg, whose had was bleeding from a slight cut, together with Redd and Walter who were tending to Greg and the passengers respectively. “How's Greg, Redd?”

Redd looked up at him, feeling relieved after seeing Connor in one piece. “That cut isnae to bad, it knocked him out cold though. Hope he still remembers us once he comes to.” Redd gave a solemn chuckle, trying to ease the fear with some humor.

“Everyone who's hurt, please move to the left side of the train while those of ye who are fine go to the right.” Walter instructed the people, holding his injured left wing, ignoring the pain that spread through it like a wildfire every time he moved it. “Connor, good ta see ye, can ye help me check on the passengers?” Connor nodded, starting with the mother of the small boy he helped earlier who was trying to be brave by telling her that they'd be okay.

After everyone was more or less cared for after Redd got the first aid kit, the three brothers who weren't currently blacked out ventured outside the train. As Redd took in the bright lights and neon signs, gaping in awe and letting out a stunned 'Wow', Walter's gaze was transfixed on their train, contrasting his brother's excited and awestruck expression with one of deep sorrow. “Would ye look at this place, this is the bomb!” Redd walked off, leaving Connor who shared his white-feathered brother's sentiment.

“We'll try ta fix it, Walt. As long as the engines are nae too busted up, we can repair her.” Connor put a wing on his brother's shoulder causing the slightly older owl to flinch and hiss. “We better get ye patched up.”

“This is a disaster, Connor. This is our livelihood, never even mind the last remaining memory of our pa.” He took Walter back past the exiting passengers who looked around, trying to figure out where they had stranded. He helped his found that Walter had dislocated his shoulder, so he did his best to put it back in its socket without causing the other too much pain. The loud yelp the eldest brother let out woke up Greg who more or less jolted and sat up straight before immediately bringing a wing to his head as the injury he sustained in the crash stung.

“What...What happened? All I remember is everythin' spinnin'. Am I dead? Are we all dead!? Oh no! Is that city outside purgatory?! Oh nononono! I donnae wanna be dead! I never managed ta find me a lovin' wife!” The green bird put his head in his wings, shaking which caused both relief and sympathy to wash over the other two. At least Greg was still his old self...his very easily frightened and anxiety-ridden self.

Connor went over to Greg, checking him over. “Yer nae dead, feather brain.” He gave a relieved chuckle which wasn't returned, but caused Greg to look up at his brother. “We're all alive, Walter, Redd, ye and I. We ran inta some trouble with a strange thingamajig that the science owls created, caused the whole train ta float and land in some strange city. Redd went ta explore it.” Greg tried to take all that information in, nodding along yet clearly too overwhelmed to understand all of that at once.

“First things first, we have ta assess the damage done ta the engines.” As Walter said 'damage' Greg looked around for the first time, nearly screaming at the sight that greeted him.

“The whole train's destroyed! How did this happen?!” Connor put a wing on Gregs shoulder, trying to stop his younger brother from spiraling yet again.

“One thing at a time, Greggy. We'll fix 'er up.” The assurance seemed to help somewhat as the green bird calmed down a bit, but was still very much out of it. “We cannae expect Greg ta just recover from the shock. I gotta say even I'm feelin' rather exhausted and I'm achin', so are ye, Walt.”

The white owl wanted to argue, but one look at his brothers made his words get stuck in his throat and he instead took a deep breath to clear his mind. “Alright...We'll find some place ta stay fer a few days. Tomorrow we'll figure out how ta repair the train.”

“A'ight. I'll go and look 'round fer a bit, figure out where we are and where the peck Redd went ta.” Walter nodded and helped the still rather upset-looking Greg out of the train.

Connor looked at the literal train wreck one more time, thinking on how ta fix this mess before he started to walk down the streets. He soon found that wherever this place was, it looked more modern when the cities he knew. Fancy cars were running down the street, bright neon signs lit up the tall buildings, and the smell of food from restaurants and fast food joints entered his nose. All he knew were rundown streets with many holes in them, old wooden buildings, and the most that was done for advertising were fliers and billboards. He felt horribly out of place, especially since the residents of that city were glaring at him like he was some kind of circus attraction. Said residents appeared to be penguins, those were rare, so it was strange to see so many in one place, in fact, the whole city appeared to be full with them. The train must have crashed in a rare penguin city. “Excuse me, uh...where exactly are we?” He decided to ask the friendliest looking penguin he could find who looked at him like he just asked the dumbest question ever.

“You're on the moon, dude. Do you come from a different planet or something?” The moon! How the peck did they end up on the moon?! Connor only managed to mumble a quiet 'thanks' before he walked on, walking into an alley briefly.

“How the peck did we get here? How are we going to get home?” Noticing that he was panicking just as bad as Greg, he calmed himself. At least no one was seriously harmed and he now knew where exactly he was...even if he would have rather been somewhere on the planet. He walked back to the street, he still had a brown clothed brother to find. He had an inkling where he was as soon as the bright neon signs of a club pierced his retina.

The train was normally quite loud, but this place was ear-deafening. Loud music everywhere that had a loud and strong bass and instruments he didn't even recognize. Connor looked around past the many dancing and half-drunk guests, he found his brother sitting on one of the stools near the bar. “Redd, what the peck are you doing here? We gotta figure out a way ta get home and yer getting' wasted?” The look of absolute annoyance and irritation didn't bother the red owl who started at him with unfocused eyes.

“Ah, good ta see ye me dear brother. This place 's mighty fine, aye?” Between the loud music and the heavy slurring of the word, Connor could hardly understand a word that his brother was saying. “Have one o' these foamy drinks, they're just the best.” Redd looked like he was struggling to even remain seated at this point. How many of those weird colorful drinks did he have?

Connor pulled Redd to his feet and had to catch him before he fell on his face. “There's no time fer this nonsense, yer gonna come back with me. Walter and Greg are worried about ye.” Some of the more sober patrons of the club were turning their heads at them, watching Connor drag his brother toward the exit.

The red feathered bird was having none of this. “I'm nae comin' I wanna stay 'ere. I like this place, the train's borin'.” Redd flailed around hitting his older brother in the face with his talons balled to fists. Not expecting this, the yellow bird stumbled back, holding his beak where the more or less unwanted attack hit him.

The black suit wearing conductor reached out a talon. “That's just the alcohol speakin'. Ye love the train same we do!” The hand he tried to put on his younger sibling was pushed away as soon as it made contact.

“Yer speakin' nonsesen! It's not the same anymore!” He was slurring his words more, but aside from the anger and the clear haze in the eyes of his brother was something that looked more like sadness and anger. A sadness that Connor wrongly attributed to his brother's longing for a different life away from the train. It angered him to see Redd, who was always lacking off and hardly helping, now dismissing his whole family. Connor had always supported him, same went for Greg and Walter, even if both of them showed their support differently. Greg tried despite struggling with his anxiety and Walter was harsh because he cared about Redd and wanted him to do better. It ended up in a small fight, the patrons watching the two brothers fight each other, punching and shoving each other.

“I hate that train! It's bad now!” the younger brother yelled as he slammed his older sibling against the counter of the bar.

The other grit his beak and kicked the legs away from under him, using his drunken state to his advantage. “Why are ye like this! We're all tryin' ta support ye, yet all ye do is make life harder fer us!” Neither bird noticed that someone was approaching them. “Ye slack off all the time, ye never do yer work! All ye ever do is complain!” Connor was panting, stopping now that the anger left his body somewhat after informing Redd about his shortcomings.

A loud and booming female voice behind him caused him to turn around. “What's going on over here, darlings? This club has a serious 'no fighting' policy.” It was one of those penguins, but that one was a lot taller than the others. They wore a red jacket and had shades in the shape of stars. Even among the club-goers in their fancy clothing, this penguin stood out like a sore thumb.

Connor flinched a bit under their gaze, not sure how to respond...he did just start a fight in the middle of an establishment, clearly not one of his finest moments. “Uh...ye see, I was just 'ere ta pick up me brother Redd. We have some business ta attend ta.” He still wasn't sure about the gender of that penguin, they looked masculine, but spoke in a more feminine voice.

“What business, darling? Could you be one of those strange birds that crashed into the bank in the center of the city? A bit obvious and on the nose for a bank robbery, no?” Even though the penguin chuckled, Connor wasn't quite sure if it was a joke or not.

Normally he was more confident and not afraid of others, unlike Greg, but being the center of attention and stared down by a large group of unfamiliar birds caused even him to feel a lump in his throat. “We just wanna get back home, none o' us mean any harm.”

“I donnae wanna go home!” Redd butted in with his own comment.

“Not now, Redd!” The yellow owl shot him a glare before looking back at the group of penguins.

They started to whisper among each other and some nodded while others frowned. The tall penguin speaking again caused his to flinch a bit. “We on the moon are always happy to help others, as long as you don't start any trouble. Do I have your word that you will not mess up our beautiful city, darlings? I have enough work on my flippers being a celebrity, you know.” The penuins around the red-jacket wearing teal-colored bird cheered and called out a name 'DJ Grooves!' it was like they were chanting it while the apparent DJ smiled and waved a hand. While Redd, drunk as he was, also started cheering, nearly tripping over his own feet, Connor was far less impressed. Not only was that penguin eccentric, but also rather full of themselves. At least they offered their help, the sooner they could leave the moon, the better.

After returning to the train, he found Walter waiting for Redd and him. He seemed to have calmed down significantly, sporting his regular cold expression instead of one of uncertainty and worry. “Good to see you back.” His sharp gaze fell on Redd. “So, I take it our dear youngest brother went fer a drink while all hell broke loose over here?” Connor just nodded, still a bit angry at Redd.

“How's Greg?” As soon as he asked the question he could hear the sound of a wrench tightening a bolt. “Already working, eh?” Walter nodded. “I got a wee bit o' help from the locals, they're gonna help us get back home.”

Walter sighed in relief at the news. “That's the best news I heard all day. It'll take a while, but we'll make it. I made sure that the passengers are safe and cared fer in the hotels. Those science owls will pay fer all the damage, I made sure o' that.” Walter's gaze hardened which caused Redd to laugh out, nearly doubling over.

“Hahaha! They got a scolding from ol' Walt! I'm sure they got so scared they wet their feathers!”

Connor sighed. “This'll be a long week, eh?”

[katgametable]

TAZ Balance Episode 15: Murder on the Rockport Limited Chapter 6

Written 16 Apr 2025, shortly after relistening, having listened to the entire Balance arc some time ago.

The three and Angus prepare to raid the storage compartment in the caboose. Angus asks if they could please apprehend not kill the culprit. But when they bust in, there’s no-one there. Angus starts rooting around and Taako examines the Crypt Safe. There’s no signs of tampering. Justin and Griffin then discuss whether deductions should be player-driven or must come from dice rolls, both in terms of rolling to make a deduction and the player making a deduction without the character rolling for it. Griffin confirms that if the player works something out, the character works it out, and Justin explains that he thought Jenkins’ hands had been taken in order to open the Crypt Safe, but they’re not there. Angus explains that it would have to be Hudson the engineer’s hands anyway. Taako Detects Magic again, but all he can find is the trace of a Ghost Sound spell. Then Angus asks Magnus to try to open the exterior door, but he finds it’s sealed. Merle casts Locate Object to find Jenkins’ rod, but he can’t find it, not within 1,000 feet. Magnus theorises that they’re not in the caboose, they’ve walked through a ‘port, like in the pleasure chamber, and the Ghost Sound is generating the sound of the train moving. So they leave the room, and immediately the slight nausea fades and Merle can hear Scuttle Buddy again.

Everyone gathers in the dining car, and Angus lets the three present their facts and conclusions. They figure that Jenkins couldn’t have been beheaded by Jess or her axe, and the axe is soul-bound to her and she was with Graham. The cleanliness of the cut suggests that the beheading was achieved by putting his head through a doorway and opening a ‘port in the doorway. But why take the hands? Jenkins’ hands wouldn’t have been any use…but Hudson’s would’ve been. They conclude that the body wasn’t that of Jenkins, but Hudson; Jenkins took him a drink, and in the engineer’s cabin killed him and removed his hands, then brought the body out, swapped clothes, and opened the port to remove the head. He then left it to be discovered before having the crab burn it up before a thorough examination could be done, and because they only spoke to “Hudson” through a speaking devise, he could have used any number of enchantments to fool them. Jenkins must now be in the real storage car. They figure out that the best way to access it would be to create a second entrance into the storage compartment, probably by opening that exterior door.

So they concoct a plan involving Taako casting Levitation on Magnus’ boots, chucking Magnus outside the train so he floats back to the caboose, then he can break the door open, and hopefully distract Jenkins enough for the ‘port to fail. Or clobber him. Graham contributes his extensive knowledge of the train’s route to pick out an upcoming spot where they’ll emerge from the mountains to cross a rail bridge, and gives Magnus a bean that will make him really heavy when he puts it in his mouth. Magnus ties a rope to a table in the dining car and uses it as a guide rope as they put the plan into action.

It goes rather well, until Magnus reaches the caboose and finds a giant meat-monster with one smaller hand (identifiable as Hudson’s) at the back and it swats him away. But Magnus uses the bean just as the train re-enters the tunnel and the rope swings back, to come in like a wrecking ball and smash the monster into the door, which bursts open. He can see Jenkins on the floor rooting through the Crypt Safe, a number of items including Railsplitter strew around, and another meat-monster with a small hand touching it – and also the open door to the dining car. Magnus and the meat monster crash in, causing Jenkins to drop the magic rod and end the ‘port.

Combat commences, hampered in part because Merle used up all his spell slots, but they kill one of the meat-monsters, and then Jenkins tries to negotiate. He points out that without the other meat-monster, they won’t have Jenkins’ hand to open the engineer’s compartment and slow the train before they enter Neverwinter – but Taako reckons he can use the ‘port to get in, so they refuse to surrender. Jenkins responds by trying to destroy his meat monster, which throws him off the back of the train, and they destroy the last meat-monster.

There was a lot of conclusions being draw in this episode, and while it is noticeable that Griffin was using Angus to prod the others into considering this or that, it wasn’t disruptive, it didn’t feel like he was feeding them answers. It felt organic. And it does prove that they are reasonably intelligent men, even if they do do ridiculous things like throw the fighter out the window. It was a brilliant little scheme Griffin concocted for Jenkins, and really satisfying to see it unwound. Now they just have to stop the train, and not get arrested for Charming Tom Bodet.

[antoschauniverse]

She started sleeping with Duchovny when she was working at SunLife and Groomer was hanging out with the pimp. The job at the flower shop was a favor to Groomer, because she was always traveling with him, something no serious employee does. And the current flower shop is pure PR for the public and his kids.

The truth is that they are both in Khalil's hands - and that's why the Groomer's PR team never made a point of investing in a false story excluding SunLife and its odious owner from participating in the relationship and, by correlation, that the girl doesn't have a past as an aspiring escort for rich old men. Not that Khalil was going to blackmail her or make a public statement to say "look, the girl was mine, she was never a saint and I sold her to Duchovny", but people close to him could get annoyed and find a way to leak it - after all, it's not just MP who know how to disclose things to the public.

Khalil isn't dead, he's alive and well and has accepted that he had to leave Malibu and that he wouldn't be the best man at the couple's wedding, but would he keep quiet if one day Duchovny spoke out against him?

David will never speak out against Khalil. David could tell that he didn't know what his friend Khalil was doing, other than selling supposedly very healthy smoothies. And many would believe it. But there is one very big nuance. When MP tried to support the girls who accused Khalil of pimping, the girls not only rejected her help, but they accused MP of knowing everything and helping Khalil. Now any statements by David that he did not know what Khalil was really doing will sound like an outright lie, because David got his sugar baby from Khalil and David knew what she was doing with Khalil, because she was his favorite angel. By the way, sugar baby's best friend was Khalil's second favorite angel, and she even lived in David's caboose. And David didn't know anything about the past of his sugar baby and her best friend?

David can only hope that the truth about Khalil's ugly deeds will never come to the surface, because it will be difficult for David to answer the question of why he was silent about his friend's dirty secrets. David is not a poor girl who was lured into prostitution. David is a millionaire with worldwide fame and cool lawyers, and he's a guy who positions himself as a good and honest man. Nevertheless, he has remained silent in the past and he will remain silent in the future.

[plagues02]

War and Cats

Summary: Wash agreed to keep an eye on Caboose during the war on Chorus, but Caboose seemed to disappear on him. Characters: Agent Washington, Micheal J. Caboose Word Count: 1222 Note: I wrote this for my friend @mirror-mariposa. You should check him out!

War was tough for everyone. The Doctors, the soldiers, the civilians (how little there were nowadays). Chorus has so few people now that only the youth, elderly, and terribly injured were considered civilians now.

For some people, this wasn’t their first war, and it was slowly taking its toll on them. Wash and Carolina were once freelancers. Being a freelancer became all they knew for the longest time. Their time in the Great War defined them. The siblings spoke often about those times to each other, but they rarely spoke about it with others. It felt more comfortable that way. They rarely mentioned their lives before joining the Reds and Blues to others. No one pushed them; it wasn’t their place. They all knew the two had a hard time.

However, a lesser known fact about the team, Wash and Carolina weren’t the only members who fought in the Great War. No one would expect that someone from Blood Gulch would have fought in the war; none of them were fit to be in the war in their current state. Yet, the Reds and Blues knew about Caboose’s past. They knew of his purple heart and why he had it. They had an ex-Spartan on their side.

War took its toll on them, mentally and physically, the first time, and it was taking its toll the second time as well. Everyone’s body ached from the almost constant training and battling they took part in, and their mental states had seen better days. It was reopening old wounds for the Great War veterans.

Wash fell back into trying to force people to see him as a leader. He found himself being bossy and a little too harsh towards the younger soldiers without meaning to; Carolina was always there to snap him out of it. Carolina would start spending more time alone, pushing herself further than she should be. Church did all he could to stop her from doing that and to take a rest, and when he couldn’t, he would get Wash’s help.

However, Caboose was different. He acted like his usual self from before they joined the war, and it seemed like nothing was bothering him. He was as air-headed as always, maybe even more so, but only people who knew him very well would be able to tell that. Tucker and Church had mentioned that he seemed off a few times. This led Wash to agree to keep an eye on Caboose the best he could with how much the ex-Spartan moved around.

Wash started to wonder why he was the one to agree to this one day when it seemed extra hard to find Caboose anywhere. He wasn’t in his room. Nor was he in the training room, nor the weapons room, or with any of the Red and Blues. There was nowhere else he could look, or so he thought. Stepping outside to clear his head, he heard Caboose’s voice nearby.

“You know, it’s not that bad, really. I mean, what would John say if he saw me freaking out now? I fought in worst battles.”

Wash’s eyebrows furrowed at the words. He was talking to someone? Everyone who it could be was inside; Wash knew everyone was from looking for Caboose. He also didn’t think Caboose would be one to talk so casually with an enemy like he was, unless it was to mislead them.

The ex-freelander’s steps were as quiet as he could make them, following the sound of Caboose’s voice. He wasn’t too far from the main building, but he was near a smaller building that they didn’t use. Wash stopped at the corner of the building and peeked out at the other man.

Caboose was sitting on the ground with his helmet off, resting on the ground by his side. His hair was getting too long, falling into face, and his eyes looked tired. Wash finally saw who he was talking to.

In his lap, there was a small cat. It didn’t look like a kitten, but it definitely looked undersized for a full grown cat. It had long orange fur that was dirty and part was matted.

“Meow”

“I know, I know,” Caboose smiled softly, reaching into one of his armor’s pockets. “I brought something for you.”

The man held out his hand flat towards the cat. The cat sniffed whatever it was before stepping closer, tilting its head down. Food, he was feeding it.

“That’s all I could bring you this time, Garf. I’ll try to bring some more later.”

The cat looked up at Caboose and mewed before rubbing its head against his hand. It finished the food before starting to make circles in Caboose’s lap, curling into a ball.

The blue armored man ran his hand over the cat and started to speak again, “It’s not so bad… Church is still here to yell at me for my screw ups.”

His words sounded forced, like he was trying to convince himself of these. “It reminds me of Blood Gulch… I miss it there.”

“You would like it there,” Caboose tilted his head a little, looking down. His eyes softened. “I would keep you nice and fed, and you could come inside, and you could sleep in my bed, and… and we wouldn’t be fighting a real war.” His shoulders drooped a little as he went on. A sigh left his lips.

Wash decided it was time to make himself known. He slowly walked over, still trying to make his footsteps as quiet as possible. The ex-freelancer pulled his helmet off.

“There you are.”

Caboose’s head snapped up, taking a moment to realize who it was. He made himself smile at the other man. Without his helmet, Wash could tell it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Washington!”

Wash forced a smile back. “Hey, Caboose.”

The older man sat on the ground in front of the other. The cat, Garf, lifted its head to look at the newcomer. Wash reached his hand up to allow the cat to sniff him. The cat did before mewing and laying its head back down. The man smiled softly before looking up, pulling his hand back.

“You doing okay, buddy?”

Caboose opened his mouth to respond, but Wash first added, “Caboose, don’t lie. Do you need to talk?”

The ex-Spartan hesitated, rubbing the cat’s head with his thumb. “...I don’t like this, the fighting and the noises and killing and…”

A sigh left the ex-freelancer’s lips. “I know, I don’t either,” he glanced back down at the cat in the Blue’s lap. “Hey, why don’t we go back inside? That cat could use a bath, and I think I could help sneak more food to it.”

Caboose perked up at this, eyes widening. He stared at the other man, wondering if he was telling the truth. Wash nodded at him. The Blue’s smile became genuine as he got off the ground, holding the cat in one arm. He grabbed his helmet with his free hand before starting to rush towards the main building. Wash smiled to himself as he got up to follow.

War was hell, and it was taking its toll on them all. But maybe with a cat around base, it would help at least one get through it all, and that was better than nothing.

[heaven-s-black-box]

Love- Wash x Fem!Ex-Freelancer!Reader

Return to File

Recovery date: August 19th, 2023

Description: N/a

Notes: N/a

Word count: 407

Back to directory

“Tucker still running laps?” Y/N asked, her helmet tucked in the crook of her arm as she looked up at Wash who was working on the comm tower.

“I don’t know,” he grunted as something clanked, “is he actually running?”

“Wash,” Y/N warned.

He let out a tired sigh and smacked the radio. It hissed a bit before going quite again.

Y/n tossed her helmet up onto the platform, making Wash jump as it clattered against the metal and rolled to his feet. She then jumped up to the platform, briefly activating her enhancement, and landed with a resounding thud.

In the distance, Tucker yelled and the reds’ heads popped out of their base. 

“Cut them some slack, please?”

“Ugh, you sound like Tucker. We’re not used to doing anything,” he mocked. “Church never made us run laps. Well I don’t care!”

“Yes,” Y/N came up behind him and set her hands on his shoulders, “you do. That’s why you’re making him run laps, and why you lent the reds your tools, and why you’re giving Caboose his space.”

She ran her hands absently through Wash’s hair as she scanned blue base to find Caboose mopping in a corner still. Tucker was braced against a wall, panting after finally finishing his laps, and the reds were having a meeting in front of their base.

Wash took a deep breath, leaning his head back against Y/N and looking up at her. She stopped her sweep to meet his eyes and smiled at him.

For a second, he was back in the project. He’d just taken his first heavy hit on a mission. Someone was worrying while on the comm with evac, and he was on his back as Y/N administered basic first aid. It was raining on that planet, and they had their helmets on, but he can still see her face when he remembers that day.

“I love you,” he whispered as his eyes slipped closed.

She hummed, leaning down and kissing his forehead before whispering, “That won’t make me side with you.” Wash groaned. “I will admit, Tucker needs to whine less and train more, but go easy on them… Caboose isn’t the only one mourning.”

“Fine,” he sighed. There was a brief pause as he turned back to the radio, and then he spoke again. “I’ll leave Tucker alone for the rest of the day… keep me company?”

“Always.”

[pluto-glow]

I threw together a quick thing for that Church lives au I was talking about the other day, just a possible scenario of the Reds and Blues meeting Alpha on Chorus.

I wrote this in one sitting not long after waking up, so sorry ahead of time for any mistakes.

(Writing under cut)

“Felix what does Alpha say about our chances here?” Kimball asked the mercenary.

“Alpha?” The orange sim trooper asked who has surprisingly come to a meeting for once. Caboose for one, wasn’t at the meeting this time.

“I was trying to keep him secret, but I can trust you guys to not go rat to Doyle and his goons. This, is Alpha.” And with that the hologram of an AI in light blue sim trooper armor flickered to life on Felix’s shoulder with a ‘sup?’

“Church?!” Tucker said in disbelief.

“No I’m not religious.” Said the AI.

“It can’t be- the EMP- we went back and looked for you- how-” Tucker just stammered.

“He was in range of the EMP with the rest of the AI- unless his body protected him, could it do that?” Simmons rambled on and theorized.

“Church? Like your old teammate? Felix why does your AI look like their old teammate?” Kimball asked, turning to Felix.

“Hey I know as much about this as you do!” Felix responded, throwing his hands up in defense.

“Guys are we really sure that that’s Church?” Grif asked in disbelief.

“Who the fuck is Church and why do you think I’m him? Do I look like a mother fucking ghost to you?” Alpha asked, raising his voice.

“Yep that’s Church.” Grif responded.

“We didn’t mention anything about ghosts.” Simmons pointed out.

“You said the guy was dead, if I was him what else would I be?” Alpha defended.

“The last thing Church said before the EMP was calling himself a ‘mother fucking ghost’.” Tucker added.

“I think we need to back track, I know grief is rough, but my AI isn’t your dead friend.” Felix said, chuckling a little but trying to sound sympathetic.

“Let’s just ask him something only Church would know.” Tucker suggested, still convinced.

“Why? He isn’t Church.” Felix responded, finally putting his foot down.

“Humor them Felix, then we can get back to the matter at hand.” Kimball ordered, stern but with some sympathy for the sim troopers in her voice.

“Fine. Ask away.” Felix responded, shaking his head and crossing his arms.

“What happened to Tucker after he got his sword?” Grif asked.

“Seriously dude?! There was better questions than that!” Tucker snapped at Grif, lightly shoving him.

“I don’t know?” Alpha responded.

“Just- take a guess? Like a Kimball said, humor us so we can get closure and we’ll get back to the meeting.” Simmons requested.

“I really don’t know! What do you expect me to do, pull something out of my ass like ‘have an alien baby who got kidnapped repeatedly’?!” Alpha fired back. The sim troopers were speechless. “I’m sorry you’re missing your former leader, but like I said, I don’t know-”

“No you were right.” Tucker finally spoke up.

“What?!” Alpha and Felix shouted at the same time.

“You’re kidding.” Kimball responded in disbelief.

“Yeah Tucker has an alien kid.” Grif responded.

“His name is Junior, he’s the coolest.” Tucker boasted like a proud dad.

“You’re fucking with us.” Felix insisted.

“Nope, he really did have an alien kid, just ask Caboose.” Simmons replied.

“Caboose isn’t the best source.” Felix defended. “I love the guy, but he isn’t.”

“He has the scars from where it bit him.” Grif explained casually.

“So- Tucker had an alien baby- and it bit Caboose hard enough to leave a scar?” Kimball asked, partially hoping this was a joke.

“Yeah, no one warned us that the baby alien-” Tucker started to explain before getting cut off.

“Funny joke guys, can we get on with the meeting?” Felix begged.

“All that blood was a pain in the ass to clean up.” Alpha commented. The sim troopers gave the AI another look. “What? Is my armor on funny?”

“We never mentioned the blood.” Tucker explained.

“Yeah you did, the thing bit Caboose because it fed on blood.” Alpha defended himself.

“They didn’t mention that.” Kimball mentioned before adding. “Alpha, how did you know that?”

“What?! No they mentioned it!” Alpha insisted.

“They didn’t, we’re in the same room I would have heard it too.” Kimball argued.

“No- they did- they must have, I couldn’t have known other wise- I- I-” Alpha started to stammer while his hologram started to glitch.

“Great, you guys broke my AI. I’m gonna go see if I can get him sorted out.” Felix said before directing at Alpha “Alpha, power down.”

“But-” Alpha started to argue.

“Now Alpha.” Felix commanded. The mercenary looked up to see the look the sim troopers and Kimball were giving him through their helmets so he explained “I don’t want him to get damaged or anything, he’s been a big help in this fight.” And with that he turned around the left the meeting room.

“Fine, I guess we’ll meet another time.”

“What do we tell Caboose?”

[ultimatedetectivequeen]

GB!Kyoko/Kyo wakes up to find himself in bed...and Makoto, his girlfriend, over him in a skimpy phantom thief outfit. Shall the detective chase and 'punish' this thief?~

Lewd topics lie below!

As Makoto Naegi's boyfriend, Kyo could testify that waking up by her side in the morning was always a pleasure; Sometimes it was simply seeing her sleeping angelic face that satisfied him. Other times, the pleasure could get quite literal when his luckster was in a special mood. This morning would likely be the latter, Kyo figured. After all, what other conclusion should he come to upon feeling a suspicious weight on his lap.

"Rise and shine, my detective~" He heard a familiarly cute voice beckon him.

"Sure thing." 'Her detective' opened his eyes, making her yelp adorably upon realizing that he was already awake. But she quickly composed herself, it didn't matter, he definitely won't be prepared for this.

And it seemed she was correct, because after opening his eyes, they quickly widened once focused on her.

Sitting on top of his lap, was his beautiful girlfriend. Except this time around, things were a bit different from usual.

For one, she was wearing a costume belonging to a certain crimson-haired gymnast, one that he has never seen or heard of and therefore has no idea what this outfit was meant to be. However, as unacquainted as he was to this outfit, he quickly found that it didn't matter. For, the first thing that caught his attention was the black leotard his girlfriend was wearing; Or rather, the way that the bottom part of said leotard was completely consumed by her bodaciously thick ass-cheeks and that she was currently doing the splits. (Kyo surmised that this sudden flexibility was a result of her recent workouts with Sakura and Hina. Good for her.) After getting a satisfying eyeful, the detective admired the rest of her outfit.

Over the black leotard was a bolero jacket of the same color, which had gold buttons, ruffled sleeves, and three long coat-tails which were cleverly swept aside as to not block his view of her peachy posterior. Additionally, her usual shoulder-length hazelnut-hair was tied into a ponytail with a black ribbon, she wore royal-red gloves on her hands, and a black choker around her neck. Finally, he looked at her legs to see that she was wearing thigh-length hose and stiletto lace-up pumps*ngl I had to google the name of those*, which greatly accentuated her thighs and caboose.

"What's wrong, detective?~ I'm only in the middle of my heist for your heart, and you can't even take your eyes off me~. Is my outfit that appealing to you?~ *ahem*— I-Is it?..." Makoto spoke in an alluring voice before not so subtly and timidly asking for her boyfriend's approval.

SLAP!

"Eeep!!~" The gorgeous brunette squealed in pleasure as her boyfriend slammed his leather-gloved hand down on one of her rotund globes, marking his beloved with his very own handprint.

Based off the fact that Kyo then proceeded to whip out his fully erect shaft, forcefully hold her legs in their split position, and shift the rear end of her leotard aside to fervently fuck her pussy for the remainder of the morning— Makoto thinks that she may have her answer to her inquiry.

—————

The detective laid down in bed, holding his luckster in his arms as the two rested, following their intense love-making.

"Makoto?" He gently spoke up.

"Hmm?..." The brunette hummed softly in response against his chest, completely melting in his warm embrace.

"Who exactly are you meant to be dressed as?" Kyo questioned.

Makoto let out a gasp and shot her head up to look him in the eyes.

"You haven't played Persona 5!" She exclaimed as if uncovering a world-changing plot twist.

"A video game, then? Yes... I believe you should know by now that I don't play those."

"We need to play it, RIGHT NOW!— Ah crap! I let Komaru borrow my copy!"

"Is this really that urgent?" He deadpanned.

"Absolutely, Kyo!— Hold on, I'm gonna go see if Chiaki has it!" She jumped out of bed, bolted to the door, and swung it open.

"Wait— you're not even dressed!—"

[artsycervidae]

Moksha: Chapter 5

Hinata shares advice with Tetsuya. Daki offers the tea house owner one last warning.

Word Count: 4.8k

Visit the masterlist for chapters and tags.

Tetsuya happily took his lumps for Yasumoto's begrudging assistance: despite having claimed nobody present was a repairman, they were fantastically flexible with the idea of 'repair.' "What a... talented young woman," the patriarch of the group in need had commented, appreciating the reinforced wheel spokes: a quick fix meant to get the family cart to its destination, rather than something long-term. "Are there carpenters in your family or something? Your... sister had that taken care of so easily." Judging by the tone, this was unusual-- perhaps even bad, given how Hinata hadn't spoken a single word to anyone other than Tetsuya.

"Oh, uh," Tetsuya stammered. "We're not related."

"Hmm. I didn't think so," the man said before amending, "my daughter figured you two were related. But you don't look anything alike."

"Let us escort you to the nearest stop," Tetsuya offered, pressing his luck and hoping to change the subject.

Yasumoto, who had been taking hopeful steps away with the horse, turned and bore their silver-dagger eyes into Tetsuya.

The man hesitated. "Well... why not. I guess I would feel better knowing you're somewhere safe, too."

The stranger's kindness was unwarranted but made the boy smile regardless. "Yasumoto," Tetsuya called, but the kinoe was sulking, dragging their feet and slinking off. "Hey, come on--" Tetsuya shrugged apologetically to the man before jogging towards his 'sibling,' catching them by the sleeve. "What's with you?"

"We're going to be late," they complained, voice low so as not to be heard. "At this rate, we won't make it until nightfall and our horse will be overworked."

"It's a small detour," Tetsuya pressed.

"It's a nuisance and a waste of time."

"What's your hurry? The profile said that the target wasn't going anywhere... unless this isn't a simple extraction," Tetsuya ventured and saw Hinata's eyes drift away from him.

How had he not suspected this sooner? "Yasumoto," he murmured, more warningly. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Rather than answer directly, Yasumoto looked over the small cart then examined their horse. Their lips parted slightly to reveal their tongue tracing the mountain ridge of their sharp teeth, their attention glazing elsewhere. Tetsuya frowned as they determined, "We have to change our approach, then. If you really want to escort these people, we'll arrive by night. We can take a break for our horse, but after that, the poor thing is going to get worked to death."

"Who exactly is this person we're fetching?" Tetsuya asked.

Hinata glared-- Tetsuya stepped back, not expecting such a cold, biting look. His hand had settled on his sword unconsciously; he only realized when Hinata stared openly at the gesture of misgiving. They drew in a heavy breath and exhaled. The frustration in their expression eased away, and they flexed their jaw.

"He's a groom-to-be," they informed without looking at him. "He's going to marry into the Ubuyashiki family, and he's going directly to one of their protected homes. Time is of the essence."

This gave Tetsuya pause and Hinata saw it. "Still want to help these people?" they asked, which felt like a trap. They had agreed to lend aid but resented the decision. Their idea of playfulness bordered on bullying. They were a walking contradiction, and if Tetsuya learned anything by now it was to allow things to happen as they may. So long as Hinata didn't escalate things, Tetsuya was fine with tolerating their hypocrisy.

"Yes," Tetsuya said.

"Alright. You're dragging the cart with me then."

Hence taking lumps, side-by-side with Hinata, their horse taking up the caboose at a leisurely trot while the Slayers each gripped a prong of the wagon and hauled it: family and cargo and all. With distance between them and the civilians, Hinata comfortably discussed the change in plans with Tetsuya: the circumstances of the escort, the risks behind it, and the extent of their presence. "If anyone asks, we're hired escorts for his family. Don't let anyone take your sword from you; say whatever you need to."

"I hate lying," Tetsuya pouted

"It's not a complete lie! We'll have the suitor's luggage delivered to a safehouse first, then to his address. We can't let anything be smuggled to one of the Ubuyashiki homes; when we ride into town, we'll take the heavier bag. The other one is for the horse. He can't leave the way we came, either. No backtracking, unless it's necessary-- are you listening?"

"Of course."

"Good. Do you know how to redirect killing intent?"

This question threw Tetsuya off his stride and he tripped, nearly falling if it weren't for the cart handle catching him by the ribs. "What?" He strained.

"Killing intent," they repeated. "When you confront a demon, they tend to emit some kind of energy field. An atmosphere, the primary function of which is to paralyze their victims."

"I know that," Tetsuya grumbled, "what do you mean by redirect?"

"Avoiding the paralysis part," they went on, "Humans react unconsciously to the sense of danger. Some swordsmen have trained for years to overcome their instincts, which is the usual route. Lower ranking Corps members that haven't learned to redirect killing intent are less likely to survive demon encounters."

"Redirect it onto the demon?" Tetsuya had to angle his mouth to the side, craning his neck and keeping his eyes on the road so that he could speak and work simultaneously. Hinata hadn't even broken into a sweat.

"You can try," Hinata coughed a laugh, "but I don't think humans or demons can control the way a subject reacts to killing intent-- not entirely, at least. And I doubt a human proves any intimidation against a demon nowadays. Chances are, most humans will freeze up under that kind of pressure. Exposure makes it easier to handle." Tetsuya knew the concept, but he hadn't heard it presented so objectively before, as though it were a field of study. "Have you undergone torture training this year?"

Torture training? This year?!

"No, never." And a beat. "I can break through a demon's killing intent, though. I'm not afraid."

Tetsuya did not need to turn his head to know Hinata was making some face-- that twitch of the brow indicating annoyance or that slightly-ajar mouth in consideration, and neither helped the boy know what they were thinking. "It's more than being too scared to move, Tetsu. It's instinctual. Like a wolf finding a rabbit." And then, as though remembering why they brought it up to begin with, "Want to know how to redirect it? It's a shot in the dark, but it may save your life."

Rather than accuse Hinata of wanting to torture him, Tetsuya considered it. It hadn't been lost on him, the bizarre nature of this team-up and the timing. A week ago, the Water Hashira's crow returned alone to report her untimely demise. The details had been few, save for that her disappearance happened around Tokyo-- there was very little evidence to narrow down what happened further. She was simply gone. With the recent promotion of her tsuguko, it made little sense why Nobutoshi would let Tetsuya go somewhere with the demon fanatic being his only company... except that it was a desperate measure.

"You think we might run into trouble."

"The chances are high."

"What kind of trouble? I know my Hashira wouldn't want you to tell me anything based on conjecture. But if this was a simple escort, I don't know why you would be here: you're either on front lines or demon-catching, aren't you?"

"Ouch," Hinata responded, and then they laughed-- "Ha ha ha," -- when Tetsuya's ears turned red. "I'm not upset. Don't worry. You're a quick study when you want to be. You know about our new leadership changes... one of the Hashira disappeared in this area recently. Another one about five years ago. The one before then was over ten years. The pattern implies a demon with direct access to the Demon King's blood, growing stronger. Not to mention, people slip through the cracks here all the time. Debt, suicide, trafficking, kidnapping," Hinata shrugged so casually that it made Tetsuya queasy, legs trembling with effort. "There have been a couple missions, targeted patrols to check things out. But we've never found solid proof of demons."

"So what do you think?"

Hinata's chest rumbled in appreciation that Tetsuya would ask. "I think there's a good possibility that Kibutsuji Muzan was here. And that, perhaps, we'll find a strong demon."

"One of the Twelve Kizuki?"

"Maybe." And, to tie the subjects together, "have you felt the murderous focus of a Kizuki?"

The answer to this question made Tetsuya feel incredibly inadequate. He had been behind his teacher every step of his career as a Corps member. Nobutoshi had taken the boy on three Lower Rank operations, which sounded impressive given the mortality rates of facing Kizuki, were it not for the unfulfilled reality. Each time Tetsuya arrived, it was to have found his Hashira standing in an ashen demon's remains, already slain at Nobutoshi's feet. "I haven't."

"Hmmm... well," Hinata considered, eyes drifting to the distance, "It's as if the demon is trying to bring out the worst in you. Not consciously, but your mind or body will betray you by invoking your most vulnerable intuitions. Most of the time it's fear, admiration, or anger. A demon that's eaten lots of people will be able to invoke a more raw feeling. It's," and a pause before helpfully concluding, "unlike anything else you've ever felt."

"Even torture?"

"This year's torture training specialized in drowning. Drowning is easier," Hinata said thoughtfully.

Tetsuya tried not to let it get to him. He knew Hinata was trying to scare him, in the same way a cat played with a shocked mouse. There was less malicious intent in their doing it, but Tetsuya wished they would knock it off regardless. "What should I know, in case we meet a demon with potent killing intent?"

"You'll do things you can't control," Hinata warned. "Some people scream and they can't stop, even if they cover their mouths. But if it makes you feel better, scream with anger, make yourself angry, make yourself move. If you're scared, then run-- get help, get a better advantage. If you can shake a demon off your trail, you've survived with valuable intel." Hinata politely stopped there.

"How will I know what to do?"

"You won't. Not until it happens."

"What do you do when you're stuck?"

Hinata hesitated once more and Tetsuya couldn't tell what that meant. You don't want to know, or I don't want to say. Then they nodded ahead. "There's our stop. Looks like an inn."

A shabby roadside shack came into view-- and yet, it was boarding of sorts, judging by the way a young man came out to greet them. The family clambered out of their cart, making arrangements for the night and unpacking their things. Hinata had disappeared, collecting their horse and walking it away from the cart so they wouldn't be expected to socialize.

"Thank you, young man," the father returned to tell Tetsuya, who had gone so far as to help carry their things inside. "We don't have much to give as far as payment--"

"Oh no!" Tetsuya insisted, blushing again at the positive attention, "it's okay, really. It's reward enough to know your family will be safe." This was, after all, the entire reason Tetsuya fought demons.

"No, I insist. Without you, who knows how long we would have been out there. You and your," a stumble over his words, "your friend, you're both very strong and you're very kind. Is there anything we can do for you to return your generosity?"

"Just take care and stay safe," Tetsuya suggested, to which the man's countenance lit up.

Once goodbyes were made and the flush from Tetsuya's cheeks subsided, he had sought Hinata, who was spending the time assessing their packs and-- judging by a stray grain of rice on their chin-- snacking on their hidden treats. The horse snorted as Hinata straightened its reins and looked to Tetsuya. They bent their knees and offered the younger Slayer a boost onto the horse-- which was nice of them, though ruined by a nasally impression of the man going, "Oohhh, thank you child, dear sweet baby, our samurai in shining armor. Why, we would have had to make that trip all our own, which was our intent to begin with!"

Tetsuya prickled at the sound of their sarcasm and the sight of their cloth-swaddled left hand as a foothold. "You're just jealous because they liked me. If you weren't such a jerk, maybe they would have appreciated you to your face." He didn't need their help getting on that high horse and Hinata hefted their weight behind his once he was settled, swinging their legs over one side of the horse as if they were at all sophisticated or dainty.

"Oof," they responded, "that smarts. What will I do without the approval of a stranger whom we will never meet again?"

"Be bitter and mean all your life?"

"Right back to business as usual," was Hinata's pseudo-chipper comeback. "I hope you're ready. No breaks until the objective is complete."

Tetsuya scoffed and took up the reins. The horse didn't respond, instead dipping its neck to investigate the sparse grass at its feet. Tetsuya waffled, tugging at the rein, and the horse grunted and tossed its head suddenly.

Hinata leaned past Tetsuya, pressing their flesh hand into the long, muscular neck with a comforting pat. "Easy, old man. He didn't mean that. For goodness' sake, Tetsu, now who's bitter and mean?"

"What? I didn't--"

"Ha ha ha, it's alright, I know." They briefly placed their calloused hand on his, tucking their heel into the horse gently and clicking their tongue for its attention. The horse seemed to understand what they wanted somehow, and began to move. As the three headed off, Tetsuya cast a final wave to the family. Hinata didn't even bother; they looked forward to reaching Yoshiwara with more alacrity than anyone Tetsuya had seen before.

A year ago, shortly after passing Final Selections, Tetsuya witnessed Nobutoshi transfer all his access privileges onto his tsuguko; he introduced the student to archivists, Kakushi leaders, trainers, and doctors that would answer his beck and call. Hashira were permitted to grant this equal access to whomever they deemed responsible.

Had Hinata been accessing all the knowledge the Demon Corps had to offer using Nobutoshi's name, such as at the stables? Did the Mist Hashira know? If Hinata had been Nobutoshi's ally, it sounded like something his generous teacher would allow... at least, until those benefits were revoked on bad behavior. Hinata likely had only one resource available to them regarding demonology: first-hand experience on the field.

"Yasumoto?" Tetsuya spoke up after some time, eyes ahead to the changing horizon.

The person behind Tetsuya didn't answer. "... Hinata?" By the time he had craned his head back to check on them, they squeezed his shoulder.

"Yes, Tetsu?"

"Are you okay?"

"I was only resting my eyes. You had a question?"

"Earlier, you said killing intent spurs admiration."

"Correct," Yasumoto said, "that is one option. It is also often the way demons manage to recruit humans into doing their bidding." They set their chin on Tetsuya's shoulder to say, "Demons have a lot to offer. Power. Wealth. Safety. Your life. People will offer their left hand if it means they walk away for another day."

'Don't take the bait,' he calmed himself. They were so obviously lying, trying to get a rise out of him. "And for you, that's information. So you indulge your curiosity."

Hinata snickered. "Absolutely." He was getting better at diffusing Yasumoto's taunts. They were, after all, just a person. "It's a dangerous method, though. You're better off conditioning your immediate reaction into either anger or fear."

"Not everyone can look at something that wants to eat you and decide to chase it back," Tetsuya agreed. "At least, not someone who expects to live long." And he wished he hadn't said it, because it played right into Yasumoto's hands-- an ice knife stabbed into Tetsuya's stomach and he felt the corners of his mouth flex into a grimace. He didn't want anyone to die.

"Hey," a tender, softer voice said. Couldn't be Yasumoto's, though deep as a crevice it was, because this noise sounded sincerely sympathetic. "It's alright. I don't intend to let you die on this mission. Whatever demons we meet, I'll handle it myself. You can learn by example. How's that sound?"

"I can fight," Tetsuya argued, wounded by how easily his anxieties could be read. "You don't need to protect me." Because although he was a child, he didn't want to be underestimated. 'Don't ask them to protect you,' was his teacher's warning, after all.

"Well, alright," came Yasumoto's resignation and they sat in uncomfortable quiet save for the horse's rhythmic canter.

-----

    Daki, Gyutaro's thoughts intruded, you've been fixing your damn hair for hours now. It looks fine.

     "No. No, no, it's all wrong," she muttered to herself, slapping her comb down on her desk and staring hard at her reflection. 

     Get one of the brats to help you then.

     "I've got it handled!" She hissed, beginning to unpin the long, raven sheets of hair and start from scratch.

     Whatever, her sibling groaned from the back of her head and then he was quiet. After she had combed her hair out again, she looked deep into her own eyes, so vitriolic green in the candlelight they nearly glowed predator amber. There were no tells that Gyutaro was still awake, but she was sure if he was, he would have gotten annoyed with her staring. This was her sign... she was finally alone. She just needed to kill enough time, and wait...

    But Daki had waited. She waited and waited all day, and this was how she was treated for her patience and generosity. Kazuko had stood her up. Even worse-- Daki knew somehow that it was the doing of that old biddy. It simply didn't make sense otherwise why Kazuko was avoiding her, why so many changes were happening under Daki's nose. When several other girls came by her door (as replacement attendants: appeasing and meek and terrified), Daki lashed out on them. The first girl received a sharp comment about the ugly birthmark on her neck. The second received a smack on the cheek-- practically a love tap-- but it had raked four neat little lines across her cheek anyway. Not deep enough to draw blood, but the homely girl left in a panicked wailing. Gyutaro hadn't even cracked a giggle, which affirmed to Daki that he was sleeping.

     The third and fourth were smart enough to stand outside Tsubakihime's door silently before retreating. Rather than calm her, this made Daki boil in her skin. Gyutaro would have commented on her inability to keep the humans in line, and of course, there was nothing she could say to sway his languid apraisal. It was mortifying to have his unfavorable assessments living in her head.

     Where was Kazuko? How dare she?

     Someone rapped their knuckles on the wooden frame of her door before the bloodlust could be settled. Unlucky number five. Daki had drawn another breath but choked it back down before she turned her thoughts back to her mirror. Her ferocious eyes sharpened, her maw of knife teeth pressing a zig-zag into her lips, and her brow was tense. She let the breath go, relaxed her shoulders, and felt the raised hairs on her neck settle. She nestled into place to brush her hair down, ignoring the irritated knocking in favor of pampering herself. Swipes of cream by the hairline, powder to mask a popping cranial nerve-- another insistent knock.

     Daki was happy to ignore it. She could feel the human behind the door prickle with tension and sweat. The visitor muttered, "Unbelievable," soft enough that only the demon girl's ear could pick it up. The oiran noted the register, tone, and affectation of the girl-- Sayako. The cleaning girl was meant to be one of Daki's assistants tonight? No thank you. But it was cute that she found herself brave. And she did have delicious muscle definition. Lovely curves. She was barely pretty, and only when her face wasn't visible, Daki supposed. Not beautiful enough to get away with her behavior.

     Tsubakihime hummed as she fixed herself up-- loud enough so that it was clear she was inside, refusing to acknowledge any disturbances. The passivity it took to rile Sayako filled Daki with smug superiority. She listened to the shuffling feet move down the stairs, through the hall, and towards the cluster of humans buzzing about the main floor. 

     Everyone was preparing for a new evening. Kazuko was none among them. Daki listened carefully, but if the girl was in the House, she was being very very quiet or someone was keeping her away... 'This will not do,' Daki decided.

     She ascended to her full height and admired her visage, pleased with the specificness and beauty of her work. As she glided across the floor to her wardrobe she made certain to pause by the window, sneaking a glance out to the other windows in the courtyard. All boarding made up the highest floor. The second floor was saved for their balconies, dining halls, and assorted entertainment rooms. The ground floor was where customers were received, but also where most of the back-of-house business took place. Despite the distance between them, Daki could track the nasty Sayako by the beating of her heart and the stink of her skin.

     Sayako had gone down to the ground floor, lingering by the front where the brothel's guests were received and processed. No doubt, she was tattling about their oiran's inaccessibility. Daki's nostrils flared as she assessed her kimonos and obis, trying to find the most saturated colors that wouldn't clash. Once her clothes were picked out, she hung them up on the wall.

     First, she needed to eat. In his rudeness, Gyutaro hadn't said anything about breakfast or dinner. She didn't need to wake him for that anyway. She could handle it.

     Daki climbed out of her bedroom window. Across the courtyard and on the other side of the building, Sayako had stopped in the kitchen back door, griping to her friends about a girl who thought herself so supreme that she could refuse a meeting with the lady of their House. She moaned at her misfortune of having to tend to the ungrateful cow who thought she could disrespect a wealthy patron just because she was beautiful. The bitches inside all laughed, so assured in their safety in numbers, so totally at ease with their perceived camaraderie.

     When Sayako stepped out into the back alley to dispose of their garbage, hesitating in the dark, Daki sneered down at her. "A cow, am I?"

    Sayako barely had the time to jump and step back, eyes bulging out in horror at the woman perched atop the three story building. Daki took a single step, swinging down perfectly parallel with the ground. Shocked, Sayako's open mouth emitted a silent scream, but Daki fell on her like a punishment, brushing down the alley and back up the wall, leaving only a smear of gore in her morbid artistry.

    The whole process was easy. She didn't know why Gyutaro had to make such a big deal of killing sometimes. She slipped back into her own room, her less extravagent clothes besmirched and stained by her ravenous meal. She shed the damaged kimonos, placed them in her usual hiding place, and slipped into her new attire. 

     By the time anyone had thought to check on Sayako, Tsubakihime's alibi was accounted for. She had moved swiftly to Madam Tamaki's office door, flawless in her presentation. She didn't announce herself: she simply slid open the doors.

     "Tsubakihime Oiran," Madam Tamaki jumped but composure settled quickly-- too prepared for Daki's liking. She had been writing and nervously shuffled the papers and utensils around the table, feigning innocence as she cleared her throat. "Thank you for making the time in your day to meet with me. I hope we can expect your participation in the procession tonight. Many customers have been hoping to see you. Some of them sound rather concerned for your well-being." These were distractions. She was putting off the inevitable. 

     "Why should I do anything for you?" Daki asked coolly, stepping in to close the door behind her, hovering there. Humans always became agitated when their easy exits were limited. Madam Tamaki's wrinkled eyes darted to the gesture predictably. "You've been meddling, old lady... have you forgotten the way things run around here already?"

     "Meddling?" Madam Tamaki echoed before sighing and reaching to move aside her abacus, velvety fingers tremoring oh-so-subtly. "I don't know what you mean, Tsubakihime Oiran."

     "Don't you?" Within the same breath, Daki appeared at the human's side, seized one of those shuffling hands, and squeezed it in her grip. Needlepoint nails punctured the paper-thin flesh and Madam Tamaki gasped with painful confusion before screaming. Daki yanked her to a sharp silence-- reminding her of who she was dealing with-- then warned in the woman's ear, voice slithering with malice, "Your husband always ran his decisions through me. I was the only one he listened to. All you need to do is keep the place operational. I choose the girls, I choose the guests, and I choose who helps me get ready. The more you fight back, the worse things get."

     The woman whimpered, muffled by her own rapid animal breathing as though she could keep her wrist in one piece by sheer force of will. 

    "Are we clear?"

    "Yes," was the sniveling reply, "yes, yes Tsubakihime Oiran. I'm sorry for going above your head. I-I don't know what I was thinking." Words were pushed out all at once in a near-whisper.

     She didn't release the bird-boned wrist yet, instead nudging the papers aside to expose one Madam Tamaki had been scrawling upon when Daki interrupted. "And what's this?" she quizzed. 

    "A letter to the doctor," the chaperone hiccupped, lips excruciatingly thin and twisted. "So that no questions are asked about your recent absences... I was going to s-suggest a house call..."

     Daki scanned over the handwriting, scrutinized every last word before determining there was little harm in allowing it. "Wonderful," she chirped, the iron clench of her fingers lightening to a brush. She felt the old lady shaking, barely restrained herself from snatching her arm back, tongue darting to her dry lips as she breathed in tiny, agonized huffs. "But please don't bother sending the doctor to my room, Madam Tamaki, whenever he arrives. Also, send Kazuko to me so I can get her ready to join me in my procession."

     Once released, the woman clutched the wrist to her chest, gingerly testing the bruise to make sure the bones weren't mangled. A distinct, pitched rhythm of rasping rang out from the back of Daki's mind as Gyutaro appreciated his sister's display, chuckling at the human's pain. She couldn't help the small thrum of excitement in her chest-- to have her pissy big brother's approval so quickly again gave her hope that he was done with his tantrum, that he would understand her worth as an ally. 

     "Oh don't cry, Madam!" she taunted in that honeyed voice, "It was just a disagreement. All is well that ends well." To which Madam Tamaki had no comebacks. She thanked the oiran in trembling half-coherency, but by then Daki had turned on her heel and left the weaker creature to nurse itself, stalking down the hallway.

     Before she could properly appreciate the victory, the critic piped up: Ought to have broken it proper. She's right-handed, after all. Doesn't need her left hand for writing letters.

     "Who asked you?" Daki muttered, her neck prickling with agitation. "I handled it perfectly."

     This was met with a throaty sound-- a scoff. Whatever. Don't ask me for any advice then, he grumbled, rolling over and slinking away from her perception. 

     "I'm sorry, Tsubakihime Oiran!" Daki hadn't noticed the younger woman a meter or two down the hall, bowing her head in fervent apology. "I-I'm sorry for my rudeness, it was unthinkable. Please for--"

     "Shut up, I wasn't talking to you!" Daki snapped and the girl shrank into herself, hugging an empty tray to her chest as if it made her less vulnerable. The wretch didn't even know what she was apologizing for-- she was just pathetically desperate for her own life. It wasn't about Tsubakihime, much less Daki.

     With a furious growl, the domineering oiran swept her layers around her and fluttered back to her room, all other pedestrians pressing their bodies into the wall to avoid crossing her path.