#jeremy: we know nothing about him but everything about everyone else

[double-aa-batteries]

things about about TSC I can't stop thinking about

"hindsight was a backstabbing bitch"

curtains symbolizing jeans healing journey, how he keeps them closed at Abby's in a effort to recreate the nest in search of some normalcy, how he opens them and looks out the window his new apartment, seeking calm in his overwhelm

"I want to go home" (13) meaning evermore vs. "I want to go home" (329) meaning to his apartment with Laila, Cat and jeremy

the fact that jean's phone is probably still in Abby's freezer

Kevin "their kindness matters" Day

Neil's smile is as unsettling to everyone else as it is to him and he has so much more Nathaniel in him than he recognizes in his own pov

Jean is so similar to neil in that they're both petty, dramatic bitches who care deeply about their teammates' safety

riko and the ravens quite literally took jean's name from him (Jean-Yves, Jonny, Paris)

"[Renee's] love was so tender it looked like grief as it curled her mouth and made her eyes shine"

jean gets forehead kisses from Renee and Cat

"that creepy little goalkeeper Andrew Minyard"

jean's many nicknames for neil: tiny bastard, tedious malcontent, abominable cockroach, wretched little runaway, ignorant child, etc.

Neil took the bandage off of jeans 3 and promptly stuck it over Kevin's chess peice

"I should have let him kill you," Jean said. "Probably," Neil agreed, "but you didn't, so here we all are."

"...aside from his outstanding murder charge, there was nothing interesting about that fox"

the fact that the point of tfc was to show characters who couldn't/wouldn't/ or were unable to heal from the trauma they had faced and yet from the very beginning and without question, TSC is about jean clawing his way forward and toward healing no matter what

the cheese drawer

dadmack dialed up to 1,000 See: "i will burn this house down before I let them touch you"

bisexual jean Moreau panicking over his teammates in swimsuits and Jeremy's long legs

"He's earned the right to be arrogant"

riko couldn't bring himself to hurt wymack because he was Kevin's father and Kevin was like a brother to riko and riko has always yearned for a father's recognition

Alvarez has a motorcycle and jean didn't say no to learning how to ride it

we know next to nothing about Jeremy Knox despite having chapters in his pov (why was he in therapy? why was his dad in France? what the hell did he do at the Fall banquet his freshman year to tear his family in half?)

that being said: Jeremy Knox is a rich boy with a butler

everything about Catalina Alverez

the fact that Jeremy knox has two brothers and one of them is probably dead

"rather than force the Trojans underground for that part, they simply built steps up and over it inside the stadium" the JUXTAPOSITION

Alvarez cooks and so now does jean

we know for a fact riko subjected Kevin to "subtler cruelties" while he was in the nest

"they never should have said yes when you asked" and "I didn't ask"

"as if you can tell a girl apart from a cow on a good day"

"permission to break his face, coach?" jean asked. "denied," white said.

all of thanksgiving pt. II

"alarm looked wrong on a face born for smiling"

jean casually saying "your apologies are as useful as perfume on a frog" to Lucas

Neil's whole relationship with Jean

David "I believe we all have the choice to be better than the hands that shaped us" Wymack

Neil generally being a menace to society but especially "Neil, being the person he was, pointed at the fire hydrant adjacent to it's front bumper and said, 'thats illegal, just so you know.'"

"the cracking heat in his chest could have been his ribs snapping or his heart breaking"

[calisources]

CHILDREN   OF   THE   NIGHT.   a   collection   of   quotes   and   scenarios   about   vampires.   change   pronouns/names   as   you   see   fit.   These   were   all   taken   from   different   sources   of   fiction,   both   in   literature   and   audiovisual   media.   all   known   triggers   for   vampire   media   apply   (blood,   death,   murder,   gothic   horror, obsessive love   and   more).

SENTENCES AND QUOTES. change pronouns and names, locations as you see fit.

"I took mythology a lot more seriously since I’d become a vampire."

“None of us really changes over time; we only become more fully what we are.”

"A vampire, like a lady, never reveals his true age."

"How do we seem to you? Do you find us beautiful and magical?”

"The strength of the vampire is that people will not believe in him."

"Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!"

"The blood is the life!"

"Loving the monsters always ends badly for the humans. It's a rule."

“When people see good, they expect good. I don't want to have to live up to anyone's expectations.”

“Love is a vampire’s greatest weakness. And we are not weak.”

“You know that old saying. Once you go dead, no one's better in bed.”

“For a hundred years I offered ugly death to everyone I met, and I did it with a song in my heart.”

"I'm not human. And I miss it. I miss it more than anything in the world. That is my secret."

“I'm in love with a woman I can never have. The point is I'm in love with her and it's driving me crazy. I'm not in control.”

"Your life is pathetic. Your after-life doesn't have to be."

"Life sucks either way, Jeremy. At least if you're a vampire, you don't have to feel bad about it if you don't want to."

"You want a love that consumes you. You want passion and adventure and even a little danger."

"Sometimes the world turns good people into bad people."

"People have been after me for a thousand years, but I'm always one step ahead."

"Mother made us vampires. She didn't make us monsters. We did that to ourselves."

"Perhaps one day, in a year or even in a century. You'll turn up at my door and let me show you what the world has to offer."

"Do you have any idea how rare love is? In a thousand years, I have found it but twice, and when I have, I have honored it."

"You're a vampire, sweetheart. I don't think you'll ever be okay again."

“When you feel the blood rush in, you tell yourself that you’re gonna get through it; that you’re strong enough.”

“You’d be surprised how easy it is to forget the past, Elena.”

“I wanna rip into your skin. And I wanna feed on your blood. Under your skin.”

“I just want one taste. That''s all I need. I just want one taste.”

“There’s the briefest of moments before we kill, where we literally hold their life in our hands and then rip it away, and we’re left with nothing.”

“Do you know the secret to immortality?”

“The vampire bond. There is no human equivalent.”

“He was my mentor, my murderer, my maker.”

“When was the last time you drank blood?”

“Left you with a bit of a craving, didn’t it? One day that craving is gonna grow.”

“That's cause you took my life! I got nothing. I lost everything. I lost my brother. I lost my family. About to lose the last fucking thing I care about.”

“And then I watched you pull over and drain a dog. And run down an alleyway for two more rats. This is not a life!”

“Hunting is an art. You have the power to subdue anyone you want, but sometimes restraint is your most powerful weapon.”

“What does this taste like to you?”

“There is one thing about being a vampire that I must fear above all else, and that is loneliness. You can't imagine the emptiness. The void.”

“Vampires are killers. Apex predators whose all-seeing eyes were meant to give them detachment. The ability to see a human life in its entirety.”

“Don’t underestimate the allure of the darkness. Even the purest hearts are drawn to it.”

“End of the day, human life is just a means to an end. Our means to our end.”

“A mutual law of nature is the strong always take from the weak.”

“It’s better to have a flawed life lived than wasted rotting away in clay.”

“Hatred, a pure and perfect hatred that’s greater now than the day I first took your life.”

“A thousand years of history isn’t going to write itself.”

“I can’t be killed.”

“I’m the monster lesser monsters fear.”

"I have crossed oceans of time to find you."

"You don't know what you are asking of me. To drink from you."

"You need blood, take it."

"To walk with me you must die to your breathing life, and be reborn to mine."

"I love you, Stefan. We will be together again. I promise."

"You loved me once, you will love me again."

"I made him. Did you know that?"

"I never compelled your love. It was real, and so was mine."

"What did you think was gonna happen? She would look at you, see your real face and give you a kiss?"

"I could swap this life of shame. Swap it out for a dark gift. You just have to ask me for it."

"Vampyrism is, by definition, an afterlife."

"I'm not the one who was sleeping with one vampire while half in love with another. Your morality is a moving target. Mine is not."

"A man damaged by his demons and those demons are not dormant, they are hell-bent on killing me and everything I find beautiful. And you, you are beautiful."

"You are stronger now. Meaner. Sexier."

"They are like vampire royalty. The oldest among us."

"He is the original hybrid. Half vampire, half werewolf."

"We both know I could snap your neck and do my nails at the same time."

 “Viktor. The oldest and strongest of us. That night, he made me a Vampire. "

"Stop fighting who you are."

"I'll tell you what I know about death, Camille. Death dances silently in everyone's shadow, and she doesn't give a damn."

"Turns out, I have complicated feelings for a monster."

ACTIONS AND SCENARIOS. Add a +reverse for the inverse action. Change names as you see fit.

[YOU ARE NOT HUMAN]: sender figured out receiver is a vampire and confronts them.

[FEEDING HOUR]: receiver finds sender feeding on someone's blood.

[WHEN IS A MONSTER NOT A MONSTER]: sender touches receiver's vampire face, showing they are not afraid.

[YOU NEED TO]: sender offers their blood to receiver.

[ECHOES OF THE PAST]: receiver is a doppelganger/looks like a person the sender knew in the past.

[DEATH AND THE MAIDEN]: receiver and sender can't be together as one is immortal and the other is a vampire.

[MY MAKER, MY LOVER]: sender is receiver's sire and they reunite after centuries after.

[BOND]: receiver is senders fledgling and sender can feel them.

[ELIXIR]: receiver is hurt and sender, a vampire, feeds them their blood.

[SHARING]: sender tempts receiver to share a meal of blood.

[HUNTING THE HUNTER]: sender is a vampire hunter, and they found receiver.

[THE INVITATION]: receiver receives an INVITATION to stay at sender's gothic/ancient manor.

[DRACULA'S BRIDE]: sender wants receiver to be one of their wives/lovers.

[BLOOD FAMILIAR]: sender is a vampire familiar, a human bloodbag under receiver protection. receiver finds out another vampire had bitten them.

[CRAVING]: sender tasted receiver once and craved them again.

[INVITED]: after bring invited inside, sender shows up at receiver's home.

[LICK]: sender licks receiver's blood remains from their mouth.

[LAST RESORT]: receiver has to turn sender into vampire because they are dying. sender wakes up in transition.

[ANCHOR]: sender calms receiver down after receiver went on a bloodlust spree. sender reminds them their humanity.

[RIVAL COVENS]: sender and receiver are from rival vampire covens and they talk in neutral ground.

[HUMANITY]: sender is human and because of them, receiver is starting to feel humanity again.

[I'LL BE YOUR GUIDE]: receiver is guiding sender through the early stages of vampirism.

[RIVAL SPECIES]: sender is a werewolf/witch and receiver is a vampire. they fall in love/ally with each other.

[DHAMPIR]: sender is a half human, half vampire who just had their first taste of human blood. receiver finds them.

[REFLECTION]: sender looks in the mirror and finds out that receiver has no reflection.

[imaginefan]

Blackmail

Damon Salvatore X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 776

Requested: Anon

Request: You're sneaking around dating Damon, but Katherine finds out and tries to black mail you into threatening to tell everyone. (I'm not sure where else to go with this other that that) one shot.

You and Damon had been dating for a little while now and despite everything, people were still finding it hard to trust him, you didn’t blame them you were the same before he started trying to prove himself to you, since then he had saved you on many occasions and has not lied either (as far as you know). Damon was the one who had asked you to keep the relationship a secret, he said that he wanted you to get to know him for who he was and for the rest of your friends to learn to trust him on their own merit, some might have called you naive but you wanted to give him a chance.

Kathrine had become the new problem for you and your friends and while you were trying to stay out of the way given the fact that you were human she still managed to find you when you were on your own, it was one of the rare occasions that Damon hadn’t decided to meet you. “There you are!” You assumed that she was trying to pretend to be Elena but you had seen her already and even without having seen her this morning you would have known that she wasn’t Elena. “What do you want?” You asked. “You know who I am?” She asked. “I know that you're not Elena.” You said as you got out everything that you needed to start studying. “Alright then we can get down to the good stuff.” She smirked as she sat down at the table folding her hands together as she looked at you, “I know about you and Damon.” She said with a smirked and you looked at her for a second before going back to your notes. “Okay…” You mumbled as you started jotting down the things that were worth studying as you waited for her to speak again. “I’ll tell them.” She said as she leaned on her hand, you looked up at her again and shrugged. “What do you get from that?” You asked. “Well nothing apart from hurting you, but if you want me to keep the secret all you need to do is be my little spy.” She said and shook your head. “Go ahead and tell them, I never wanted to keep this a secret.” You answered, she looked at you for a second before sighing. “I really thought that was going to work, you're human so I have to be careful about where I hurt you otherwise they’ll all be asking questions.” She murmured more to herself than anyone else as she stood up and walked around the table to stand next to your chair. “I guess you can play off a broken arm.” She reached out to grab your arm but before she could come into contact with you someone else grabbed her. “Don’t even think about it.” You recognised the voice as Damon's; he pushed her away as he put himself between you and Katherine. “Damon, why are you ruining my fun?” She asked “I thought she was just your human toy… Surely you can still play with her if she’s a little broken?” “Get away from her.” Damon said again and this time she tutted before turning and walking away.

Damon turned to you once she was gone crouching and taking your face in his hands “are you okay?” He asked, looking over your face and hands for injuries. “Damon, someone's going to see Jeremy and Matt work here.” You reminded him. “I don’t care, answer me are you okay?” He asked drawing your attention back to him, you nodded once and he let out a breath. “What did she want?” “She wanted me to work as her spy, she probably thought that because I was human I’d be the easiest to manipulate but she tried blackmail first.” You explained. “What?” He asked. “She’s probably going to tell the others about us, I don’t know how she found out but she did.” You shrugged. “Don’t worry I’ll find a way to fix it.” He promised and you pulled back to catch his eye. “I’m not worried.” You said, his eyes shifted across your face as if trying to find a tell that you were lying and when he didn’t find anything he nodded. “Then we’ll deal with it.” Damon said as you nodded, he started grabbing all of your stuff and putting it in your bag. “What are you doing?” You asked. “You're coming back to the boarding house, you can study there.” He said. “Fine.” You said as he took your bag and followed you out of the door.

Requests and general question!

[milesfingers]

Can we all think about an AU where Outlast is a family sitcom, with the whole Mount Massive antagonists that are a big family (because they canonically all know each others) who deals with daily problems when they're still a bunch of psychopats?

Imagine:

Trager is the goofy passive-aggressive dad who gets angry for EVERYTHING but still takes care of everyone (because yeah he gives me dad vibes);

Eddie is the overprotective mom who is part of that weird Facebook groups where (karens) moms talk to each others about their kids and what they do;

Father Martin is the kind of bipolar grandpa that one day is kind and caring and gives you candies, the other day he locks the kids in the cellar with the rats because they didn't want to eat his soup of dust and rotten vegetables;

Chris is the overdeveloped older brother who wants to control everything and gets very spoiled by his parents because basically they are scared of him;

The Twins are the weird middle children that apart from making neighbors' pets disappear they do nothing else. They're grandpa's favorite;

Frank is the troubled younger son who does strange things like talk to snakes and was suspended from school for biting his teacher

The Walrider is their dog

All of them forms a loving(?) family.

In this AU Waylon and Lisa are the neighbors that tries their best to be friendly with them, Miles is also a neighbor that HATES them and tries to contact social services, and in the end Jeremy is Trager's bff and drinking buddy who demands to be called "uncle" by his children

[philtatosbuck]

it’s so gross to me how c*roline stans have been running with this narrative that Elena is a horrible friend to Caroline and attacking her for getting involved with Damon after he r*ped Caroline while giving Stefan a free pass when Damon is literally Elena’s abuser too, and Elena was horrified and outraged by what Damon did to Caroline and did everything she could to protect Caroline when Elena was literally a teenage girl unfamiliar with the supernatural world being preyed on by two 100+ vampires and oh yeah DAMON WAS ELENA’S ABUSER TOO like literally what was elena supposed to do Damon was constantly inserting himself into her life and every time she’d reject him he’d do something like kill her brother like she had literally no power against him. Stefan was the one who could have done something about Damon and constantly chose not to but this gets completely ignored by fandom. also funny how the “elena is the worst” crowd had nothing to say about Caroline sleeping with the guy who killed Tyler’s mom (except for the people attacking TYLER for being upset lmao)

Listen, I'm 80% right there with you. You've hooked me. You're gonna get a whole essay out of me.

There are five (major) issues to tackle here. Let's start with the first one, which should be the most simple to understand.

Damon's Ongoing Assault Issue.

We all saw what Damon did. We all agree that him compelling Caroline removed her ability to consent to it. We are all aware of that. Here's the thing. In character, no one ever addresses more than the feeding and manipulation. Not even Caroline herself. We, as the audience, know the issue. But the issue presented in character is never as clear cut as "Damon raped Caroline, and she rightfully hates him for it." They never go there, and we know why. This also unfortunately means that Caroline never once says that's the reason she hates Damon so much. We're given the "he manipulated me, he fed off of me without my consent" which is still bad, but it's nothing he didn't do to anyone else. He killed Alaric multiple times. He killed Jeremy. He threatened and attacked Bonnie. He's killed Vicki and Mason and everyone else, and this is after what he did to Caroline. If he gets away with all of that, why wouldn't they forgive or tolerate him for something as 'natural' as feeding? By not acknowledging that his compulsion removed Caroline's consent, they never have to acknowledge that what he did was rape. And that means they never have to say Damon did anything worse to Caroline than he did to anyone else. Specifically, we also never see anyone call out the fact Damon compels Andie to be okay with what he is and to let him feed off of her while in a relationship with her as well. Alaric in particular never calls this out despite the fact he's an adult who should know better than the teenagers how wrong it is, because by that point, they've all reached a place where they're damn near complacent in what Damon does. But anyway, without them outright saying what he did and calling it what he is, Caroline seems very... obnoxious with her dislike for him, while everyone else has gotten over it. It kind of leads us into the next one.

The Stefan Issue.

You're completely correct. Stefan should have been the one getting Damon away. Both Elena and Stefan knew what Damon was doing to Caroline, and Elena demanded he deal with it. And he did. To do that, he used Caroline as a way to subdue Damon. While people often talk about how Stefan took Caroline under his wing, it wasn't before he repeatedly used her. Even after that, he uses her when it comes to Klaus and to Tyler. But focusing on the Damon subject, Caroline never once acknowledges that Stefan knew (which she knows) what Damon was doing to some extent or holds him responsible for it, or snarks at him about Damon as much as she does Elena. She all but outright absolves him of any wrongdoing as soon as he becomes her mentor. You see it in the way she personally roots for Stefan whenever it comes to the damned triangle, her own desire to prop him up overriding any and everything. Even after Stefan hurt Elena herself, she was still very aggressively team Stefan. This is partially because she's basically Julie Plec's self insert, and partially because she sees Stefan as the good brother, despite the fact he above all is the one who primarily excused and defended him during that time. People will not admit that Stefan is complacent in Damon's actions because they're obsessed with a 'good brother, bad brother' dynamic. On the flip side, people who do acknowledge Stefan's part of it claim Damon is better because he "owns up to what he is". The truth of the matter is that they're both assholes.

The Elena Of It All.

Like you said, Elena was rightfully disgusted and terrified of what Damon did to Caroline, and fucking immediately told Stefan to deal with that shit. For a bit after that, she (and Bonnie) were doing their best to keep Damon away from Caroline. Here's where the issue lies. Like I said before, we, the audience, know everything, right? Did we ever see a scene where Caroline tells her exactly what happened with Damon? This is part of the issue I mentioned with 'Caroline never outright says it'. All Elena has to go on is bruises and bitemarks. And she is mad about that, mad about the fact Damon fed on her without her consent, but that's all she thinks happened. She does not know Damon is her rapist. And yes, that is enough reason for Elena to hate him and be mad at him, but look at all the things I mentioned above. What did he do to Caroline that he hasn't done to others who, frankly, mean more to Elena? As bad as it is to say it, as far as Elena knows, there's nothing special about what Damon did to Caroline.

Part two of the Elena issue is that while you're right, while Damon was her abuser too, it gets wonky because of the sire bond and because of her eventual feelings for him. At some point in season one, Caroline is asking for the necklace back, and Elena goes "why? so you can give it back to Damon?" which is half a joke, half not. So already, Elena is joking about the situation. Which, Caroline doesn't remember everything. Elena knows that. Look, you can essentially take it one of two ways. One, Elena's trying to make shit seem normal because they haven't told Caroline about the supernatural, while feeling out why she wants it back. Two, she's being cruel. It honestly depends on how you view her character this early on. I'm not gonna debate about that, whatever.

Anyway, later on, in season whatever the hell, Damon jokes "have fun with blondie, I know I did" and Elena laughs. That? Was bad. Even without knowing the full extent of what he did, it was a fucked up thing to laugh at. I love Elena, and it was fucked up. You'll never see me denying that shit. Damon even fucking teaches her to hunt in the same way he picked Caroline out and it isn't called out, in canon.

Primarily, people's issue with Elena, is that it seems like she co-signs all of Damon's bullshit from even before they were together because she gets with him. For them, it's like Elena is immediately acknowledging and approving of everything Damon did because they're in a relationship. Some people acknowledge Stefan and Alaric do this as well. Some don't. Oh well.

I don't ship delena, or stelena. I think Elena and Damon's dynamic was terrible. I think her character changed when she got with him, for the worse. I openly admit all that, and you can take it as I'm biased if you want to. I personally don't think two people getting together means they cosign each other's bullshit, but whatever.

But the main issue lies in season one. They believe Elena should have done something to stop Damon from what he did to Caroline. What, exactly? I don't know. Damon was trying to compel Elena to fucking kiss him in season one and she smacked him immediately. She wanted him dead for what he did to Caroline. She said as much. I couldn't tell you what else people wanted her to do. By the time she had some kind of power against him, he had done bigger and worse things and yet he was one of their only allies with knowledge of the supernatural so they needed him. So, bluntly, Caroline's thing got pushed to the way side. One thing I see people mention is that Elena stopped Bonnie from personally killing Damon when they found out Caroline got turned and you can make your own opinions about that but Damon did not do that. Katherine did. He did deserve to die, but Elena didn't want Bonnie to be the one to do it. Opinions and reasons vary, but she also didn't let Damon kill Caroline (by directly putting herself in harm's way to protect her), so... whatever you want to think about that, think it, do it, bop it, I don't care.

My opinion on Elena being a horrible friend to Caroline is that she's not. At the end of the day, Elena is probably one of the people who treated Caroline best, if you step back and look at the whole thing from an objective point of view. People just do not do that.

I do think there's a certain point where "Elena couldn't do anything" stops being entirely true, but it's long after what happened to Caroline. And it's nothing that Caroline herself couldn't do after she became a vampire (much sooner than Elena did).

The Caroline-Klaus Issue.

Preaching to the choir, dude. People will go on all day saying how dating your friend's abuser is wrong (fair) and then say Caroline is better because she Just fucked Klaus (despite the fact they WANTED them to be in a long term relationship anyway). I, personally, don't see how the fuck that's better. I also don't see a point in "morality" arguments for this fandom, but let's just write it out. Fucking the guy who murdered your boyfriend's mom and his friends is better than dating a guy who manipulated your friend into doing his bidding and feeding on her (which as is as much as Elena knows)? Debatable.

People will often excuse this as "Tyler chose revenge over her" as if Klaus did not murder his mother and the fellow hybrids. If the roles were reversed and Liz had been murdered, there'd be a different talk. But hey.

Finally,

The Caroline Issue.

Caroline not only serves as Julie's self insert, but she's the self insert for a lot of this damn fandom. You see it in fics, where they either change her personality so she's more like Elena or Bonnie, and Elena/Bonnie is the friend who can't keep their mouth shut or is always commenting on their friends' lives or spilling secrets.

The Tyler thing? Caroline's a girlboss for telling Tyler to get over it! after she slept with his mother's murderer. But Elena's a terrible friend and "trying to make it all about her" when she tries to sympathize with Caroline over Liz's death and turning her humanity off. Caroline's a queen when she slutshames Katherine and Rebekah and literally any female character she doesn't like who she speaks about for more than two seconds, but when Elena throws it back in her face that Caroline INTENDED to sleep with Damon before finding out he was a vampire (which she did. It's why he got invited into her house), she's just so awful. This, in addition to the fact that Elena was under a sirebond, and Caroline is just regularly fucking like that.

You see my point. Anyway, make no mistake, what Damon did is an issue, but it's only as big of an issue in fandom because Caroline is the golden girl to them. They completely ignore the fact Elena has no full knowledge about what went down. They ignore that Stefan or Alaric should have been taking charge against Damon. They ignore that Caroline never so much as utters a peep about exactly why she hates Damon besides him being a "manwhore". Anything they can use to villainize anyone, but especially Elena, where Caroline is concerned? They will. Facts be damned.

[lnkedmyheart]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Thanks....

In no specific order. Did i take this opportunity to post pics of these characters? Yes.

Revy (Black Lagoon)

A dual wielding gunslinger from Roanapur. She is badass and deeply unhinged. A seriously traumatized woman with solid character flaws and a weirdly pseudo romantic relationship with the guy she kidnapped for a ransom and is now desperately trying to protect without realizing that she can't save his innocence, because he was never innocent and pure.

Fredrica Sawyer (Black Lagoon)

A cleaner from Roanapur, uses a chainsaw as her primary weapon, cannot talk due to a severe injury to her larynx and uses a voice synthesizer. An adorable and creepy goth girl who may or may not have in universe ties to the Texas Chainsaw massacre. Which yes, implies that black lagoon is set in the same universe as the TCM movies.

Dazai Osamu (BSD)

Love the depiction of depression and mental health problems with the guy. Love how he is constantly present everywhere and is seen through everyone else's perspective and yet we know so little about him. He is a dork and a brat and so annoying. He is usually aloof and distant but deep down has the capacity to be tender and kind that is only seen in the rare moments of vulnerability. But he is so hopeful and yet completely convinced he deserves nothing.

Chuuya Nakahara (BSD)

He's such a tragic character like his life is one compromise after another as he gets pushed further and further into a bad situation but he will not let that stop him from making the best out of his situation. His compassion and empathy for even those who hurt him is so powerful but his brutality and intelligence is another aspect that makes him stand out against the other characters of his kind. And then you have his incredible loyalty where he will cross all boundaries to protect those he considers his people. Gorgeous characterization honestly.

Yato (Noragami)

Another extremely tragic character and one who is trying so hard to change his fate despite everything. My guy does NOT catch a single break through the centuries he has been alive and he is still so hopeful. Not to mention letting Bishamon despise him for so long just to protect Kazuma, a guy he barely knew at the time. UGH. And his whole thing for Hiyori and his affection for Yukine. Kill me!

Yukine (Noragami)

This was the first time I cried honestly. His backstory had me curled up in my bed unable to eat for an entire day. And his growth from an annoying unlikeable brat to one of the most lovable characters is crazy. Also no, I will never not cry over Yukine calling Yato 'dad'.

Jeremy Pascal (Tales from the Gas Station)

I didnt realize how much I liked him till I thought he died. In that regard I'm like Jack I guess, neither of us realised how much we cared for this adorkable himbo ex cultist. The fact that he is genuinely heartbroken that his suicide cult abandoned him and committed without him is so...oddly endearing and just the energy he adds is charming. He's also such a great friend to Jack, man better start appreciating him more.

Sorey (Tales of Zestiria)

This is my son. And my sun. He is the most precious, sweetest boy to me. Aside from being ridiculously gay about Mikleo, the guy is what you'd think is a typical hero figure in such a setting. Pure, celibate, sweet and even tempered etc. But he is snarky as hell, constantly teases others, is NOT oblivious contrary to popular opinion. He is also irritable. I also love that he is an archaeology nerd.

Irma Lair (W.I.T.C.H)

I dont remember too much about her but I always really liked her. Enough that she is still amongst my absolute favorites. It probably helps that she was made wlw in the tv series and has some shippy moments with Cornelia in particular.

Balalaika (Black lagoon)

Listen, she is an ex military woman, who went MIA with her entire squad of loyal soldiers and now runs the fucking mafia in Roanapur. Woman is gorgeous and has acid burn scars all down her face and body. And she is terrifying. She will break necks with a smile and values loyalty and efficiency above all else. But she is such a deeply damaged woman who deserved better. But see, the people in Roanapur are there cause this is their last stand before they end up dead.

[thedramaticgazette]

I saw the first ever preview of Great Gatsby on Broadway. Here are my (pretty negative) thoughts.

Before I begin, I am just writing this for fun. This is not serious, and it's all my own opinion. We're all entitled to our own. I go on tangents as well so know this is more than a review. If you'd like to read more reviews, I try to upload once a week. ALSO THERE ARE SPOILERS IN THIS REVIEW.

On Friday, March 29th, 2024 I went to see The Great Gatsby on Broadway. It was their first preview, first time ever on a Broadway stage with a paying audience. My friend and I went, bought tickets the moment they went on sale. We sat back orchestra, not to the wall but close. Despite it's hype...it was a tad underwhelming.

_________________________________________________

Let's discuss the Headliners.

The show is commercialized as "Featuring Jeremy Jordan and Eva Noblezada" which I understand is to rake in revenue necessary to keep the show running, but I hate when shows do that. I feel like it takes away from the work and talent of everyone else involved in the cast. Jeremy Jordan is a Broadway phenomenon, almost everyone knows his name. He is best known for his role as Jack Kelly in Newsies, but has since then gone on to do a ton of projects and concerts including the Greatest Showman's workshop, where he so famously discusses at a concert of his how he lost the role to Zac Efron. He's been in Little Shop Off-Broadway, which I had the pleasure of seeing him in and will definitely post a review of because it was a breathtaking performance from everyone involved but - I digress. My point is that everyone loves Jeremy Jordan. He is placed on this pedestal above everyone else, a renowned Broadway actor. He plays the leading man, Jay Gatsby, who has been in love with one Daisy Fay, now Daisy Buchanan, since they met years before when he was about to leave for war. Daisy is played by Eva Noblezada, a Broadway superstar best known for her role as Euridyce in Hadestown, or as superfans know her, as Kim in Miss Saigon. I had the pleasure of meeting both, Eva as she snuck out of a different stage door as the mob at the actual stage door was panic attack inducing, where she thanked us for coming and we chatted for a few. I met Jeremy after a Little Shop performance back in August, and he was one of the douchiest men I have ever met in my life.

And let me preface this all by saying that I cannot imagine how annoying it must be to feel like you have to be "on" all the time for people. Like you're an enigma people just want to look at, and all. I don't know a thing about showbiz. I do know, however, that it isn't too hard to be kind.

I cannot imagine how annoying it is to stage door all the time - to have so much privacy ripped away when you are as renowned as you are in the theater world - a world that so famously does not understand boundaries. But would it fucking KILL YOU to be the teensiest bit kind? Jordan threw my pen back at me after we met, barely signing my playbill. It looked like a chore to be out there, and there were only about 20 of us waiting at stage door that day. I assume, and this is coming from someone who knows next to nothing, that he doesn't HAVE to do stage door. If I'm wrong, ignore everything above. But if it's his choice, then don't fucking come out! I'd rather not meet someone if they're going to be rude than meet someone who makes me feel like it's annoying that I'm there.

All that being said, Jeremy's voice is no doubt superb. It's soft but passionate and I could listen to it for hours. He does, however, lack any wow factor when it comes to acting this role. He is able to reach in and become the character when he sings, but during speaking scenes I felt like I was watching a bad high schooler. Also, here's a game you can play if you go to see it. TAKE A FUCKING SHOT every time Jeremy Jordan says the term "Old Sport" in the show. You'll have alcohol poisoning by the end of it. I understand we wanted accuracy from the book and that that phrase has a lot of meaning for Gatsby's character but MAN the way Jordan says it made me want to swallow a pair of jorts or something.

Noblezada has a voice clearer than the seas in the Caribbean. It cuts like glass. She is an incredible performer, every note looks and sounds effortless. She did, in my opinion (and who the fuck am i, really) act Daisy much like she did Eurydice though. Her performance is lovely, per usual at the center of it all.

The letdowns.

Woof. First I'll start with Paul Whitty. Good fucking lord. What the hell??? How was he the choice for George Wilson. His voice wasn't as bad as someone else's who I'll discuss further down, but I mean. No one else? Really? Is no one searching in the casting calls that 200 people are in line for almost every week? His songs were lackluster and felt like an afterthought, space that needed filling. Second, I'm a huge fan of Eric Anderson, I saw him many times in the 394790173493 times I've gone to see Moulin Rouge on Broadway, and he was fantastic every time (per my review you can find on my page.) However, his performance as Meyer Wolfsheim was...boring to say the least. His character, granted, has very little stage time and only one big number, which opens Act II and while the choreo was very flashy, it wasn't anything like the Bad Romance x Toxic opening of Act II that Moulin Rouge has. Third, I think John Zdrojeski was the most confusing choice to play Tom Buchanan, Daisy's abusive, cheating husband. He's pretty nice to look at, sure. But his voice? Jesus Christmas they couldn't find ANYONE else?!?!!? Maybe it's because he had five singing lines total that I couldn't get a better feel of his voice, or maybe that choice was made on purpose because they knew Zdrojeski was gonna play him but his voice sucks so much. SO SO much. His vibrato sounded forced and the melody sounded off, it felt like they put him on stage just because he was a pretty good actor and had abs.

There were a few mishaps in terms of head pieces falling off - which I got the pleasure of hearing about from the costume people who sat behind me and discussed notes during intermission and many of the dresses looked quite baggy on the dancers, but otherwise it seemed pretty accurate.

The best parts.

My favorite, by far, was Samantha Pauly as Jordan Baker. She is the standout for me, capturing Jordan's essence perfectly. Spunky, doesn't give a fuck and a girl's girl. The costume choices for Jordan's character were done exquisitely as well, and Pauly's voice was show stopping. Noah J. Ricketts as Nick Carraway was another showstopper. Not only is he nice to look at, he's nice to listen to. His voice is smooth like butta, his acting is great and I loved the back and forth he and Pauly's characters had. The set was a wow factor for sure - if this is nominated for any Tony's (I'll be as surprised as Gatsby when Daisy turns him down if there aren't) the set should surely win. Created by Paul Tate dePoo III, the set glides on and off, the projections work seamlessly and overall I was in awe of the glitter and gold of it all. Platforms erupt from the floor in a nonchalant way, as if to say "we had all the money in the world for this show." The choreo, was also one of the best things to watch. Choreographed by the well-rounded and talented Dominique Kelley, the choreo captures the era of this show (NYC 1922) well. I loved her choice for a tap number as much as I enjoyed the acrobatic-esque moves she made for the stellar, electric ensemble. All toes were pointed, all legs were extended, and it's clear, or it translated to the audience, that that was a part of the show everyone was confident in.

Sara Chase, who plays Myrtle Wilson deserved so much more stage time. What a fucking voice. Her energy, her lack of empathy for anyone but herself, I mean shit. She was so good. They didn't do her justice, but then again I forgot the Wilson's were even a part of the book until I saw the show again. Two of the dresses she wore (one being a very impressive on stage quick change where a literal rolling clothing hanger like the ones in malls rolls in front of her and when its past her shes in an entirely new dress) looked very baggy and her character's wig was god awful, looking like it was plucked out of an amazon package 10 minutes before curtain. But she was impressive regardless.

The music was pretty entertaining, written by Jason Howland with lyrics by Nathan Tysen. The songs "New Money," "The Met" and Gatsby's ballad "Past is Catching Up to Me" were star songs and have been stuck in my head for days. The ending of Act I "My Green Light" which has been teased on all of GG's social media accounts was as good as it sounded. There is no doubt that Jordan and Noblezada will go down in history as two of the most impressive singers on Broadway.

If you have the chance to see it, I think you should. Not for more than, like $150 with the way ticket prices are but it's definitely worth the music, set and Samantha Pauly.

Best part though? Every seat was given a mini copy of the book. My seat, however, apparently had the only signed copy of the book in the theater. So, thats pretty fucking sick.

Until next show,

Dramatic Gazzette

[joezworld]

An Ill Wind

Traintober Day 9 - Brace For Impact

So, this is the long one. There always has to be one. I hope this is the only one. As a note, this isn't horror, per se, but rather ominous dread at the most. At time of writing everyone reading this has lived through These Times. We all know what's coming.

-

As a housekeeping note - this story relies upon a lot of stuff I've previously written or it won't make much, if any, sense. I've tried to link everything in the first place it's mentioned. Please let me know if you're confused at any point.

-

This is also a very long story, with explanatory paragraphs that sometimes become Very Dense. I also wrote it exclusively between the hours of 11:00 PM and 4:00 AM over two consecutive nights. (A bad decision on my part - don't do that.) Please bear with me if there are any glaring errors - I did check this over but I'm not omniscient.

-

Summary - An ill wind blows from the East, and Sodor prepares for the oncoming storm.

-

Mid February - Tidmouth

“-and you’re sure that this isn’t an engine that British Rail… missed? Your father didn’t shove her behind a shed or something?” The insurance agent said, looking over his papers at Stephen. “Engines don’t appear from nowhere.”

“Tony, as much as I would like to believe you, in this case she did.” Stephen said seriously. “There are records of her being scrapped.”

“So you’ve showed me.” The agent was from Lloyds of London, and was used to people trying to ‘finesse’ their way out of a claim, but everything that he’d seen so far, and his many previous experiences with the NWR, was making this far more believable than he was comfortable with. “So I take it you didn’t pay for this engine?” 

“No.”

“Of course. Do you have any idea of what something like Daphne would be valued at?” 

A few papers were shuffled, and Stephen’s notepad emerged from the clutter on the desk. “I have tried to purchase several Deltics over the years. Depending on whether you wish to base the valuation on Alycidon, Tulyar, or Royal Scot’s Grey and Gordon Highlander together, Daphne is worth somewhere between fifteen million pounds, thirty million pounds, or, and I will quote directly here: ‘absolutely priceless, I will never sell either of them.’” He ran his finger down the paper. “He sold the two of them less than a month after I inquired. Everyone seems to think Jeremy Hoskings is a better owner than I am, to my continued bafflement.”

There was a snort from the insurance agent, followed by a sigh. “My department manager knows Hoskings. We’ll confirm the valuation with him, but for right now I’ll leave it at… twelve?” 

“That sounds appropriate,” Stephen said, pleased that he’d come to more or less the same valuation before the meeting.  “Is there anything else you need from us right now?” 

“No, I can’t think of anything else at the moment.”

“Well then Mr. Kwon, we are done for now. You must excuse me for leaving so quickly, but my attention is needed all over the island. You do know your way out?”

“Yeah…” The insurance agent said, suddenly engrossed in his phone, papers half in his briefcase. “Excuse me.” He said, suddenly shoving everything into his case before bolting for the door. Stephen and his secretary watched as the man receded down the hallway, speaking rapidly into his cell phone in an unknown language. 

“What was that all about?” His secretary asked, watching as the man vanished around the corner. 

“I don’t know.” Stephen said as he shrugged into his overcoat. “Hopefully nothing.”

--

As it turns out, it wasn’t nothing. Stephen had a meeting with the Barrow City Council, and was making his way to the first class compartments of the Limited when he came across Tony Kwon in a coach vestibule. He was still talking into his phone, the language foreign but the tone urgent. He paid Stephen no mind, but when Stephen eventually reached his seat, he found the Insurance Agent’s case and coat sitting in the seat opposite his. 

The train was almost to Kildane when Kwon eventually came back, his face flushed. “Is everything all right?” Stephen asked, concerned. 

“No.” The man all but collapsed into the seat, as if the life had been drained from him. “My brother… he works for Toyota, in Yokohama. Last week he went out to China for a conference, and now fifteen of the people he went with have come down with this… strange pneumonia.” He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling of the coach. “He’s a hypochondriac, so between that and the cruise ship I’m having to talk him off a ledge - metaphorically, of course.”

‘My goodness.” Stephen had no idea what to say to that, and offered some brief consoling words. 

“Thanks, but there’s nothing you can do about this.” Tony blew out a breath resignedly. “Fuck, there’s nothing I can do.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but his phone rang, cutting him off. “クソ地獄, it’s my mother.”

He exited the compartment, and remained on the phone in the vestibule until the train reached Barrow.

Stephen left via a different door, and didn’t see the man again, but felt strangely ill-at-ease for the rest of the day. 

----

A few days later - Near the Hatt Family Estate

The credit card machines at the petrol station were out, and Stephen was forced to go in and pay for his fuel in cash. As he waited in line, the rack of newspapers caught his eye; while the local Sodor papers were focused on the Lord Mayor of Suddery having some sort of extramarital affair, The Daily Mail featured a prominent picture of a cruise ship, with the equally bold headline of “PLAGUE SHIP”. 

The woman in front of him seemed intent of paying for her petrol in pound coins, and Stephen tuned out the furor this was eliciting from the rest of the line of patrons, reaching for the newspaper. 

The byline read ‘Yokohama, Japan’, and within a few sentences, alarm bells were ringing in the back of the Fat Controller’s head. He read through the rest of the article, and was only brought out of the paper by the clerk trying to get his attention. “Sir? We’ve run out of cash to make change, so right now, we’re-”

Stephen needed to be elsewhere, now, and he pressed a hundred-pound note into the clerk's hand before walking out, paper under his arm. 

Something is happening. I can feel it. 

-----

The next day - Tidmouth Station

The usual clutter on Stephen’s desk had been rather abruptly piled on the floor. In its place were newspapers and website printouts, their topics all on the eruption of a virus in Southeast Asia. 

The Fat Controller himself was engrossed in a phone call when his secretary stuck her head in the door. “Rolf Tedfield to see you, sir.” 

Still on the phone, Stephen waved at her to let in his visitor once the phone call was over. “-yes, Secretary, I understand but- no, I understand perfectly. Yes there is a problem! Mr. Secretary, Grant, for the love of god, do not brush this off! Something is happening! What proof do I have? THE NEWS! Good God man, just listen to the BBC! Or read the Guardian! Or the Financial Times! For god’s sake, I found an article about this next to a page three girl in The Sun!” There was a pause as the man on the other end of the call - The Secretary of State for Transport - said something, and Stephen’s head dropped almost to the desk. “It is not like Ebola. It will not go away on its own.”

There was another pause, and his head met his desk. “The position of the government is that this disease will not be a threat to the United Kingdom. Do you mind if I quote you on that? Considering that Hong Kong has a land border with China, I feel very differently. Yes, I am aware the border has been closed for a decade but considering there’s a steady stream of asylum-seekers going through there I feel like it may not- yes, Mr. Secretary, thank you, Mr. Secretary. Goodbye.”

He hung up the phone as gingerly as he could before staring at the ceiling and counting down from ten. When he reached zero he called in the visitor. “Rolf. What can I do for you?”

The manager of Crovan’s Gate works sat down with a distracted sigh, his eyes scanning the papers on the desk. “I think you’re already ahead of me.”

Stephen followed his gaze. “You’re following this too?”

“Aye. I’m from Hong Kong, got most of my family there still.”

“I didn’t know you were from there.”

“My parents went over from Pembrokeshire in ‘49. Anyways, my sister and my brother still live out there; few cousins too, and they’re scared, Stephen. Whatever this is, it hasn’t been sitting around at the Chinese border.” He tapped at his phone, and pulled up an image from a messaging application. It was taken from a high-rise building, showing a group of helicopters and rescue boats surrounding a ship.  “Five days ago a Chinese trawler got run over by a ferry. Coast Guard went and picked up the crew, took ‘em to Queen Mary Hospital. Now the entire place is on lockdown. Everyone thinks it's SARS but… sir, from what I’m hearing it’s worse than that.”

Stephen felt suddenly sick, and then realized that he should probably start using a different expression. “When was this?” 

“Last night, well, it was daytime there. We’ve not heard anything because it’s still the middle of the night there.”

“And they’ve only now locked down the hospital?” 

“Yeah. For all the good that will do.” Rolf seemed to be on the same page. “S’like waiting until after the zombie bites you.”

The Fat Controller took a deep breath, and steadied his nerves. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. As you might have heard before you came in, I was on the phone with the Transport Secretary trying to convince him of the seriousness of this, and I was not successful. I feel that we are going to have to act on our own.” He rose from the desk, already composing an email as he walked, and swung open the door to his office.

“Sir?”

“Rolf, I don’t know what I am going to do just yet, but I want you to - very quietly - start pulling all the coaches we have available in the out-of-use lines and the P-way trains and start making them habitable again. Interiors, then mechanicals. Focus on the buffet and sleeper cars first.”

“Yes sir. Why sir?” 

“At the moment, I’m not sure yet, but I feel that having spare beds and hot meals will only help us. Aside from that, I want you to make sure that the works is stocked on spare parts and other consumables, and stop all new work on the engines and coaches.”

“Sir?” 

“I mean it, Rolf. Finish everything that’s in progress as quickly as possible - use as much overtime as needed - but unless an engine catastrophically fails I don’t want anything or anyone in pieces right now. Something is happening. I’m just not sure how bad it will become.”

With that, Stephen left, his coat flapping out behind him dramatically as he marched towards the door to the station proper. Rolf watched him go, and blinked owlishly before pulling out his own cell phone, taking careful notes on what had just been said. “Did you get all of that?” He asked Stephen’s secretary, who was used to the Fat Controller’s occasionally abrupt departures. 

Without a word, she shoved a piece of notebook paper into his hand. On it, in neat handwriting, was everything that had just been said. 

“Thank you, Gladys.” 

------

A few days later - Suddery

The Sodor Regional Council - the governmental board in charge of Island-wide affairs - met in a lecture hall at the city’s technical college. Usually they met inside Suddery’s Government Hall, but the short notice of their meeting meant that the hall was being used for other business. The atmosphere inside the room was decidedly tense - the unusual surrounds and urgent nature of the meeting meant that everyone was ill at ease even before the proceedings began. 

The Mayor of Kirk Ronan spoke first. He was a svelte man of about forty, in his youth a multi-time gymnastics medalist at the Commonwealth Games. “Look, we all know why we’re here, and we all know what’s going on. Let’s dispense with the pleasantries and get down to it: There’s a sickness coming, from China, Japan, Iran, and now Italy from what I heard on the car ride here.”

A few murmurs came after that, and he held out his hands for quiet. “Now I’m sure that almost everyone here has called down to London at some point, and they’ve all said the same thing, haven’t they?”

“Yeah,” came one voice in particular - the Barrow Harbormaster, who watched five ferries a day pull into his port, each one loaded full with French and Irish passengers. “That we’s gonna ignore Hong Kong bein’ loike The Walkin’ Dead and just hope tha’ the Border Force can do bet’er wit’ t’is  than theys do wit’ the moigrants.” 

London seemed to think that, like Rabies, Termites, and asylum-seeking refugees, the width of the English Channel was all that was needed to keep the mysterious ‘asian flu’ out of the British Isles. Frustrated mumbles broke out as everyone tried to recount to their neighbor the lies that their contact in London had fed them. 

“Thank you, thank you, I know what it was like, I phoned them too.” The mayor signaled again for quiet. “I know we are all frustrated. I know that we are all in the dark. I know that we’re all scared.” And for a moment he let his guard down, and showed his true emotions on his face, before continuing. 

“But we aren’t some helpless home county who can’t do anything themselves. We’re Sodor, damnit. London hasn’t given a monkey’s arse about us in a thousand years and they’re not about to start now. So what are we going to do about it?” 

Despite his best efforts, Stephen Hatt’s lifestyle and means of employment meant that “punctuality” was something he only ever chanced into, rather than it being a regular occurance. In this instance, James-related issues at Tidmouth had meant his arrival at the hall was almost ten minutes after the meeting’s already-delayed start time. 

Fortunately, chance often smiled upon Stephen, and he hadn’t gotten this far in life without being quick on his feet. “If I may,” He called out as he strode through a side door near the lectern. “I do have some suggestions.”

--

Two hours later

The meeting had gone as well as a crisis planning session could go, and the participants filed out with brimming notebooks both physical and digital, their faces grim with worry or steeled against what would happen next. 

The parking lot of the technical college backed up against the city marina, and a cold sea breeze whipped across the tarmac, rustling papers, tugging at clothes, and teasing hair. Stephen took refuge in an enclosed bus shelter to organize his notes, and was joined a moment later by a man he knew more from reputation than meeting - the head of Wellsworth’s St. Tibba’s Hospital, the largest and best hospital on the Island. Stepehen knew very little about the man - his first name, (Dembe), his nationality (English, to Ugandan parents), that he was a paediatrician by training, and that he’d been appointed head of St. Tibba’s over several local candidates whose CVs may as well have been written in crayon when compared to him. He’d sat through most of the meeting in complete silence, only answering questions when asked directly. 

“Doctor.”

“Mister Hatt.”

There was silence, broken only by the doctor pulling out a carton of cigarettes and a silver lighter. 

“Your ideas are sound.” The man said only after he’d puffed a Dunhill into life. “But it’s not going to be enough.”

“Do you really think that?” Stephen kept his expression neutral, staring out into Suddery Bay rather than at the other man. Fittingly, a storm was brewing on the horizon, huge clouds rising into the sky.

“I do.” The cigarette smoke came out in measured smoke rings. “We haven’t got enough beds.”

“Surely the-”

“It doesn’t matter how many train cars you give us, Stephen. It doesn’t matter if there’s a line of them going from one end of the Island to the other. We’ve only got two hundred fifty beds across the entire Island, and our staff levels reflect that.” Another, more violent puff of the cigarette followed. “Give us all the beds you want, but what we need is doctors. And you can’t build those out of an old train car.”

“What would you recommend we do then?” The storm was beginning to worsen, and lightning crackled across the high tops of the clouds. 

“Honestly? Pray.” With that, the man raised his collar against the cold wind, and walked across the parking lot to a mid-sized saloon car at the back of the lot. 

Stephen waited another moment, carefully adjusting the papers in his folio, before heading off. 

He’d just opened the door to his Audi when his cell phone rang. He waited until he was inside the car before answering. Intriguingly, it was Louisa Duncan, Fergus Duncan’s daughter, and new controller of the Arlesdale Railway. She’d been in the meeting with him, and had left not even ten minutes prior. 

As he answered, the skies opened up, and a torrential downpour thundered down onto his car. At first, it was hard to understand what Louisa had been saying; her voice was broken with tears and sobs. 

By the time he understood, the rain was pounding hard enough that his own sobs couldn’t be heard. 

Less than a month ago, on the fourth of February, Ivan Farrier, the Chief Mechanical Engineer of the Arlesdale, had gone on a long-awaited holiday to the Italian Alps with his wife Amanda. 

It was now the twenty-seventh, and both of them were dead, killed by the ill wind from the far east. 

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

March

For the next week or so, everything went quiet, but it did not go gentle.

In Crovan’s Gate, the works threw itself into overdrive; and seemingly every useful piece of rolling stock, from first class coaches to old General Use Vans left over from BR’s discontinuation of newspaper trains in the 1990s, were being scrubbed and painted to within an inch of their lives. Bafflingly (to them), once their interiors were refreshed, they were shoved outside, onto the storage tracks, while more coaches were pushed in to take their place. In the locomotive depots, the engines undergoing overhaul were suddenly being kept up at all hours of the day, as their repairs went on around the clock. Dane, one of the electric locomotives, would later remark that his overhaul was so quick it had taken three whole days off of the official Works record. 

At Wellsworth, St. Tibba’s hospital was receiving deliveries of everything from life-saving medicine to whole hospital beds, much to the irritation of the higher-ups at the National Health Service, who were under orders from London to minimize any potential panic. The hospital director found himself keeping his supervisors at bay more and more. His usual tactic was forwarding them email chains and whatsapp screenshots from colleagues in Hong Kong, who had been caught effectively off-guard, and were now paying a heavy price. As the days went on though, he wasn’t sure if it was calming or terrifying that the complaints slowly trickled to a halt.

At Tidmouth, strategy meetings were being held seemingly every hour. No detail was left to chance, with the limited information they knew being factored into their plans for the future. Engine cabs were being measured, much to the confusion of the engines themselves, platform signage was reassessed, and staffing requirements were being examined with a fine-toothed comb. A huge sum of money was spent from the company’s discretionary fund, and arrived in the form of a heavy goods vehicle, which backed up to the station’s sole loading dock and disgorged pallet after pallet of masks, gloves, soap, and disinfectant, to be distributed as needed. 

In one of the upstairs conference rooms, a pair of 70-inch televisions sat on one wall, the joined displays mostly empty. They displayed the master list of scheduled trains for the railway, a vast, spreadsheet-like document that documented every train movement on the railway’s February-May spring timetable. Daily trains were often “booked” months in advance, and the chosen rolling stock was altered as required. In an ordinary March, trains would already be scheduled out until the end of the spring timetable in May. Now, only train 3B00 - the Flying Kipper - was scheduled beyond the end of the month, its nocturnal run sitting alone on several score of date markers, going all the way to the bottom-right corner of the screen: MAY-1-2020.

-

In the sheds, the engines grew more and more concerned. The “minor virus”, as London still called it, was now making the headlines of every television, newspaper, and social media platform in the country. While the general public still viewed it as something that was happening to other people, there were many in the NWR fleet who remembered the Spanish Flu of 1918, or, more recently, the mass hysteria that had surrounded the SARS outbreak in 2002. 

“Something vicious this way comes.” Edward muttered one morning in the sheds, as the news showed the ever-unconcerned Prime Minister giving a news conference on the state of the lockdown in Hong Kong. 

“It’s not coming,” Thomas said grimly. He was old enough to remember 1918, and even if he hadn’t, Tornado was connected to the Internet, and found increasingly-distressing posts about the disease on social media with every passing day. “It’s already here.” 

-

Meanwhile, on the main line, one green engine came to another.

“You’ve heard about the virus?” Tornado asked, trying her hardest to be subtle and discreet.

“Yes..?” BoCo answered. “So has everyone else. Why are you whispering?”

“There’s something I wanna talk to you about.”

“Oh?” 

“I hear they’re holding a diesel gala at the Crewe museum next month.”

“Tornado, there’s not going to be a next month at this rate.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Okay…”

“They’re taking diesels from all over the country for this - they wanna show off engines that need restoration funds.”

“Oh good, a sideshow. How modern and progressive of them. I’m sure PT Barnum would be honored.”

“Who?” 

“Nevermind. Is there a point?”

“You’ve been seeing how the economy is going away again?”

“Yes.”

“Well nobody’s gonna have any money to fix them, innit?” 

“And..?”

“We’ve gotta do something!”

“About what? The virus? The economy? Tornado, we’re engines!”

“Not that! Our brothers!”

“What?” BoCo’s mind spun for a second.

“They’re bringing your brother, 05, down to Crewe for this gala - he might already be there, and they’ve got Peter, my brother, there too.” Tornado looked more scared than BoCo had ever seen. “If they run out of money… they’re never gonna get fixed up.”

“What do you propose we do?” 

A mischievous glint filled her eyes, and a pit suddenly opened up in BoCo’s crankcase. “There’s a container train going to the Crewe Freightliner yard right down the tracks every Wednesday and Sunday. I say we get on that train and steal them!”

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

Two Weeks Into March

The Prime Minister had finally started to show concern whenever he appeared on the telly. Mass panic in Hong Kong forced the Queen to make an address to the nation. On Sodor, the early stages of the Regional Council’s plans started to come into effect, and public events were canceled or majorly curtailed by government order. Supermarkets began self-imposing purchase limits, and all Universities on the Island began transitioning to online-only classes, with the local school authorities following in their wake. 

Slowly, the NWR began to cancel off-peak trains, and office staff began figuring out how to take their work home with them. In the midst of it, someone made a “meme” - a form of image-based joke - about the drivers taking their work home with them, using an image of Thomas’ infamous crash into the Ffarquhar stationmaster’s house. (In a sign of how deathly serious the times were becoming, even Thomas himself found it funny.) The harbours at Knapford and Tidmouth, which were controlled by the NWR, began influencing quarantine protocols on incoming freighters, and several cruise ships were denied entry. The harbourmasters at Kirk Ronan, Barrow, and Tidmouth began impressing upon the ferry companies the importance of canceling their services, to limited success; the international ferry services from France and Ireland stopped, but Northern Irish and Manx ferries all continued with minimal delays or curtailments. The airport at Dryaw, however, was more than willing to comply, and all but two passenger flights to the Island stopped before the 14th, with cancellations lasting for two weeks. All cargo flights, save for the mail, stopped as well.

In all, it seemed like the Island was weathering the oncoming storm well, and those in seats of government - who had been expecting criticism for their overly cautious approach - were instead receiving praise from London. If the entire country acted like they did, they were told, this whole thing may blow over in a month! 

-

Then the wheels came off.  

-

It started in the United States. President Trump declared a state of national emergency on Friday, and state-by-state declarations of emergency put nearly the entire country in lockdown by the end of the weekend. The already-down global financial markets fell through the floor on Monday morning. 

In the United Kingdom, those who watched the Prime Minister’s daily briefings on the virus swore up and down that they could see him sweating, and later on in the same address, he announced a recommendation to avoid unnecessary travel. 

And on Sodor, the tipping point was reached. 

Several days earlier, an outbreak occurred in a council estate in Slough. The source, or ‘index case,’ of the outbreak was found to be a Polish truck driver, who lived in Ireland but had decided to ride out the impending quarantine at his British girlfriend’s flat. He’d picked up a load bound for England in County Kildare, presumably contracting the virus at the same time, entered the UK through the Northern Irish border, and then boarded the Tidmouth ferry. 

According to all the contact tracing done in those frenzied days before the world came to a stop, he had been aware that he may be contagious, and had worn a mask and gloves the entire time. He didn’t leave the cab of his lorry, nor did he stop for fuel or food until he was well east of Barrow. 

But he was contagious. 

And that’s all that mattered to the people of Sodor. To them, Pestilence, the first horseman of the apocalypse, had come through their land riding not a horse, but a shining white mechanical steed with the name of Scania.

This was someone that they knew about. And he’d tried to minimize his risk. They were a tourism and travel hub for the entire North-West of England and with the rest of society only now seeming to realize that anything was wrong, if nothing was done, the people of Sodor would soon be at the mercy of not international lorry drivers, nor the general public, but the worst, most careless form of humanity known to exist in the United Kingdom: The British Holidaymaker.

The end times were clearly upon them, and the Island reacted accordingly. 

-----------

The Ides of March

The container train rumbled into Crewe at half past ‘fuck-me-it’s-late’ in the evening, long past dark, but still before the start of a new day. “Signaling issues” was the official excuse given by the train - some nonsense that would have Network Rail crews working all morning and into the afternoon to solve a problem that didn’t exist.

The electric engines in the yard were fast asleep, and few, if any of the people on the platform at Crewe station were aware of the engines that had led the train in. 

BoCo, quite honestly, couldn’t believe that anyone had believed them at any point, but wasn’t about to quarrel with a trouble-free journey. Once the very tired crews from Freightliner had uncoupled them from their train, he and Tornado slipped across the main line into the old diesel works. It was now a heritage steam facility, owned by a very rich businessman, and the Fat Controller had a contract with them to supply his engines with coal, water, and fuel when they took trains to Crewe. 

Being railway enthusiasts, they were overjoyed to see BoCo, and thrilled beyond reason to see Tornado, and many selfies were taken before the refueling was done. All at once, someone (Definitely not an employee who was also an A1 trust volunteer, who most certainly hadn’t been sent an email by Tornado, asking them to be at this place at this time, not at all.) remembered that, wouldn’t you know it, Blue Peter, the only other Peppercorn-designed locomotive in existence, was in the works right now! It was quickly asked if he’d like to see Tornado, and before anyone could say anything else, Tornado had pulled her brother out of the workshop and proceeded to start crying hysterically, claiming that she missed him. This put somewhat of a damper on the jubilant attitude of the staff, and they made themselves very scarce, very quickly. 

The instant they were gone, the waterworks stopped, and Tornado beamed at Blue Peter, who was quite surprised at both the sudden start and abrupt end of the hysterics. 

“Come on,” she whispered quietly. “We’ve got to go.” 

“Go?” The older pacific asked, quite confused. “Go where?” 

“Sodor, Silly!” she said, in a voice that she probably thought was secretive. “We’re breaking you out of here!” 

“What? Why?”

“Haven’t you heard the news?” BoCo broke in. “The world is ending.”

“wha-I, when… it is?”

Blue Peter looked entirely too overwhelmed by the deluge of information, but managed to stutter out. “Ye-yes. They took him up the line to the museum for storage.” 

“Yes, quite soon too. We’re taking you back to Sodor and by the by have you happened to see an engine that looks identical to me, by chance?”

BoCo’s face fell. “ That’s on the other side of the station. Damn it, how will we get him out of there?”

“Don’t worry,” Tornado’s eyes fairly twinkled as she said that, and both BoCo and Blue Peter began to think that they really should. “I can take care of that, but let’s go before anyone sees us!” 

“Wait,” Said BoCo. “What about the couplings?” 

Their crew had quite graciously agreed to see nothing and hear nothing in the Freightliner crew break room until it was time to leave. (Tornado may have annoyed them into submission. Maybe. Possibly. Yes, she did, and BoCo helped.) However this meant that they’d be unable to couple or uncouple anything once they left the depot. Fortunately, Tornado Had A Plan. 

“Oi,” she whispered to the A1 trust volunteer. “Wanna have the night of your life?”

(BoCo and Blue Peter both nearly had their eyes pop out of their sockets. Tornado ignored them.)

The young man spluttered out a yes before he even thought to ask any follow-up questions, and very quickly coupled the three engines together, with Tornado and Blue Peter bracketing BoCo. He climbed into Blue Peter’s cab, and as soon as the dispatcher granted Tornado permission, the cavalcade was across the West Coast Main Line and into the Freightliner yard again. 

Quickly stopping on their assigned road, Blue Peter was positioned at the rear of the container train, while Tornado and BoCo ran around to the front of the train, the young volunteer helpfully throwing switches (and returning them to the position they had been in afterwards) as needed. BoCo was now at the front of their odd little consist, and the volunteer had to stand in his cab with a radio to tell Tornado what signals were ahead, once she’d lied to ‘control’ about why she needed to go out on the main line again. 

Unlike the heritage depot, the Crewe Heritage Centre was empty, it being long past their business hours. What little security there was, was focused inwards, not expecting sneak thieves to use the rails.

The museum grounds were small, nestled in between the V of two converging lines. Historic diesels in varying states of disrepair were scattered about the facility’s tracks. A small banner above the entranceway of the site’s sole building read “DIESEL DAYS - COMING 13 APRIL!”

BoCo’s brother - D5705, was easily visible from the tracks, parked next to a line of yellow, white, and red coaches that had clearly seen better days. An eye slowly opened as Tornado ‘peeped’ her whistle as quietly as possible. “I see that the Final Train has a sense of humour.” He rasped, his voice shaky and uneven. “Is it finally my time?”

“No!” BoCo said, much more firmly than he’d been intending. “It’s me, Fives. This is a jailbreak.” 

The other eye slowly opened, the ruined diesel coming to wakefulness. “What odd company you keep, Two, and strange timing you have. But I will not be opposed to your plan.”

The Volunteer (who hadn’t introduced himself to BoCo, claiming that “the less you know, the better” like this was an actual criminal enterprise) hopped down, and quickly made the necessary connections. 

“Go. Go with glory and make your life fruitful, oh-five.” Groaned a voice from the next track over.

The Volunteer looked around the diesels and his eyebrows shot into his hairline. “Oh wow! I forgot you were here!”

BoCo looked around his brother, and an eyebrow rose in surprise. “You’re not Ward… and what are you doing here?” 

“I beg your pardon?” The partial APT-P set said, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

-

Ten minutes later, and a very chilly trainspotter with a cell phone arrived at Crewe station. He’d received a text from a friend - apparently the NWR had sent down a diesel and a steam engine on a container train to Basford. Hopefully he’d be able to get them when they-

A single solitary ‘peep’, and the sound of chuffing steam was the only notice he had the train was coming, and he almost fell off the platform when he spun around to see 60163 Tornado, 28 002 BoCo, D5705, and an ATP(?!) rolling quietly through the station. 

Hie tried desperately to fumble for his phone’s camera app, but the dark conditions and poor-quality camera on his phone meant that he got a blurry, dark, and  grainy smear of an image that showed nothing comprehensible at all. 

He still tried to tell his mates, and posted the picture online, but nobody believed him - some laughed at him, and it was quickly forgotten about. 

Tornado and BoCo had performed their heist without a hitch.

-----------

The Ides of March, Plus One Day

Bloomer was a notoriously slow riser. Even with a full head of steam, there would be mornings where he would have to be roused multiple times before he was fully awake. The crews got around this by just moving him while he was still asleep, and the old engine didn’t find it unusual to be finally woken up by the stationmaster “accidentally” spraying him with water while watering the plants on the platforms. 

This morning, however, he was woken by an unfamiliar sound,and cracked one eye open to find himself in the yard - and it was in total disarray. “Land sakes!” He croaked as he woke up fully. “Lad! What’ve you done!” 

In an effort to help out heritage rail organizations, the Fat Controller leased older engines from their owners for duties that the NWR had on the mainland. For example, the Barrow yard shunter was a revolving door of small shunters that came from various preserved lines across the country. For the past month, a quiet but dedicated class 06 had been doing exemplary work, and it seemed likely that his contract would be renewed for a few more months. 

“It wasnae me!” The shunter protested, and Bloomer had to blink more than once to confirm what he was seeing. The shunter was chained down to the top of a low loader wagon, ready for transport back to his home railway. “They said Ah’m a-goin and quick! It’s the yon diesel tha’s makin the muckle disaster!” 

A growl answered this, and a red Class 60 emerged from the depths of the yard, a line of stone hoppers trailing behind her. She was a low-numbered 60, number 003, and a nameplate was affixed to her cabs: PRAETOR. “Ignosce. I am not well suited to such tight confines. Would I happily leave the duties to this peritissimus faciens, but alas I must convey him home with the speed of Mercurius.” Her expression darkened. “There is an ill wind coming, and we all must seek safe harbor.”

She’d stopped to allow the yard crews to hand throw a switch, and the instant they finished, she pulled away out of sight, giving both Bloomer and the shunter the distinct feeling that they’d just been dismissed. 

“Alrigh’,” Bloomer blinked again. “Ignoring that, they’re really sending you home?” 

“Aye,” The shunter answered, grunting slightly as his flat car rocked - the 60 had taken the line of hoppers and backed them down onto his low-loader. The guard was already affixing a rear lamp to the flat wagon, indicating that the train was getting ready to depart. “An’ it’s no just me - they’s sending everyone home - ye as well. Something’s going doon, an’ it’s happenin’ now laddie.” 

With a stately horn blast, the 60 set off as soon as the colour light signal changed to green, and within a few moments the train had vanished from sight. 

“What does he mean? I am home.” Bloomer said somewhat indignantly to his driver. 

“It’s not like that Blooms,” the man said. “You know that virus thing we’re all panicking about? It’s happening now. Mr. Hatt is packing up everything in the yard and I mean everything.” 

“Surely you jest!” Bloomer retorted. 

“Don’t believe me? Wait ‘til the yard empties a little more and we’ll get our train. Then you’ll see.” He said ominously, before leaving the cab and walking across the sleepers to the station building, leaving Bloomer alone in the yard as he built up steam.  

 With the outbound track now empty, Bloomer had a prime viewpoint of the yard, and what he saw began to confirm his growing fears. 

The trains were arriving, and were doing so out of order. 

Usually, at midday on a monday, the only inbound mainland train (other than the odd slow goods train that wasn’t on the schedule) was the Scottish Motorail, which took automobiles and their drivers on a non-stop trip from Edinburgh all the way to the ferry docks at Kirk Ronan. The next several hours were mostly goods trains which ran as far as Barrow, before leaving their trains for Sodor engines to take later; the last of which was a container train from the Freightliner yard in Crewe. The Sodor Motorail came after that - it ran out of London a few hours ahead of the night express, with auto carriers bound for Barrow, Kirk Ronan, and Kildane; it would drop the Barrow and Kirk Ronan cars at the special motorail platform just outside of the station, and continue on down the mainline, while another engine would come up the line and pick up the cars for Kirk Ronan. Finally, just before dark, the evening Express, with Pip and Emma powering it, would glide into the station, stop to pick up and let off passengers, and depart as fast as it arrived.

That was the usual order of things. 

Today, the Scottish Motorail pulled into the station right on time at 11:55, with a single Class 37 leading it. The engine was tuxedo black, with yellow warning panels and small leasing company logos by the cab doors, a serious expression on his face. Curiously, the train didn’t continue on to the Motorail platforms, and instead stopped in the station’s run-through track. 

Bloomer expected the train to continue on at any moment, and was baffled when over a half hour passed with no movement. “Signal troubles?” He called over to the 37. 

“No.” The engine called back, his London accent fit for the BBC. “We await another train. The ferries will hold for us, don’t worry.”

Bloomer eyed the large number of automobiles lining up at the Motorail terminal, but said nothing. 

A further half hour after that, one of the platform signals dropped, and Bloomer’s eyes almost popped out of his head as Pip appeared in the distance. “Aye?!” He spluttered as the HST screeched to a stop at the platforms. Unlike the usual song and dance of disembarkation, where passengers departed the train and transferred to semi-fast trains for their final destinations, or took the pedestrian underpasses to the exits into Barrow, there was instead what could only be referred to as a stampede, as passengers - many wearing clothes over their faces and mouths - stormed off the train en masse, charging down the platform stairs to the underpasses with a clatter of voices and luggage. The instant the last ones had gone (a group of wheelchair users who were herded off the train and into an electric cart brought out by the station staff), the doors to the station waiting room opened, and an identical exodus of people came charging down the platform - easily two or three trains worth of people, who crammed into the coaches while mumbling about ‘distancing’. They were heavy enough that some of the coaches groaned from the strain, and when Pip and Emma set off again, their engines howled from the excess load. 

“It’s bad out there!” Emma called as the train cleared the platform. “Euston’s a ghost town! We’re one of the only trains with passengers!” 

A tight ball of worry had begun to form in Bloomer’s firebox, and with this it just grew larger. 

As soon as the train cleared the bridge, the signals dropped and then rose again, to ‘slow ahead’. With a ‘peep peep’ that caused Bloomer to swear in surprise, Henry slowly rolled through the station tender first, a short line of wagons used for transporting steel coils following behind him.

The stationmaster met the train on the platform as it rolled through without stopping. “You get them all?”

“Yes,” Henry said he counted the trucks again - yes, they were all here. “They found one of them in the far sidings, but we checked thoroughly before we set off.”

“There’s nobody else!” The lead wagon confirmed. “And I’s not just sayin’ that. Everyone else belongs to the Shipyard, not Sodor!” 

“All right,” The stationmaster said. “You’re going to Ballahoo - they’ve got enough space in the goods shed for this lot.”

“Right!” Henry whistled as he picked up speed, and soon crossed the bridge. 

As soon as he cleared, the signals dropped and rose for the third time in a row - this time with an added signal for the goods yard - and a horn sounded in the distance, followed immediately by a steam whistle. “What now?!” Bloomer asked himself in frustration and worry. 

‘What’ in this case turned out to be the container train, which had BoCo leading, and Tornado not only as the second engine, but facing backwards to boot. They led the train into the far side of the yard and stopped just long enough for BoCo to get pulled off the train. 

Almost immediately, the freight yard staff sprung into action and pulled the couplings for the first ten container wagons, which were bound for Barrow. Tornado quickly puffed away with them to the unloading tracks, where they were set upon by the yard’s container handlers. 

In the meantime, BoCo reversed away to the fuel track, which was close enough to Bloomer for him to ask questions. “What in the name of god are you doing?” He hissed to the diesel. “The world is apparently ending and you both go gallivanting off to the mainland?” 

BoCo was unphased as the fuel was hurriedly piped into his tanks. “We’re fine, Bloomer. I’ll explain later.” 

“You had better!” Bloomer wanted to question more, but the signals dropped and rose for a fourth time, and finally, the Sodor Motorail clattered in. 

If the double-header of BoCo and Tornado was unusual, this train was downright startling, as both Daphne and Delta were pulling hard as they rumbled into view.

It was easy to see why Sodor’s two strongest diesels were needed for this train - the Motorail operations required some extra rolling stock to be kept at the terminal in London for emergencies, and it seemed like all of the emergency stock, along with every other motorail wagon that wasn’t on the Scottish Motorail, were on this train. 

And they were full. 

Not a single space was to be seen on any of the open wagons, and every passenger coach was filled to standing with passengers. The train was so long that when it pulled ahead of the switches to the Motorail terminal, it was not only on the bridge to Sodor, but Daphne and Delta were actually on Sodor proper before they backed the train into the terminal. 

The motorail trains set down coaches and wagons here, with the car wagons on one platform and the coaches on another. With so many coaches and car wagons on this train, neither rake fit into the platform, and stuck out over the edge quite considerably. 

Not that the passengers noticed or cared. Much like the Express, they streamed out of the coaches that were on the platform like rats from a sinking ship, and swarmed the station building to pick up their cars. As each wagon was unloaded by the stewards, people would hurry to their cars, oftentimes wielding cleaning wipes or disinfecting spray, and then leave the station so quickly that the tires chirped. One young man was reunited with his fluorescent green motorcycle, and proceeded to leave the station grounds with his front wheel in the air, before vanishing into the distance at assuredly unsafe speeds, his bike’s engine almost louder than Daphne’s motor. 

Speaking of Daphne (and Delta), once the last passengers had disembarked, they quickly pulled forward, taking about half of the coaches with them, and then backed down to pick up half of the car wagons - only the rear half of the train was for Barrow or Kirk Ronan, with the forward section going to Kildane. The guard blew his whistle, and the two diesels roared onto Sudrian soil and quickly disappeared into the distance. 

“People need to get home.” BoCo, who had been watching the proceedings with Bloomer, remarked simply. 

“What?” 

“It’s the last Motorail to Sodor - there’s no more trains after today.”

“Good lord.” Bloomer’s eyes widened as the full weight of the situation came down on him. “How bad is it supposed to be?” 

“Edward says it’s like the early days of the Spanish Flu.”

“Half the world got that!” 

“I’ve heard worse.” Called the 37 as he carefully shunted the Scottish Motorail into the platforms. Fortunately, the train had been put together in such a way that automobiles could travel down the length of the car wagons with the use of gangplanks between wagons, otherwise the train would have been much more difficult to put together. “The rumour up north is that the government has been deliberately under-reporting numbers so as not to cause a panic.”

“I’d say they didn’t succeed there…” Bloomer scowled as the doors to the station opened, and passengers swarmed the train. There was pushing, shoving, and shouting, and it took longer than usual to get everyone corralled into the lengthy train. 

There was a whistle behind Bloomer and BoCo, and Tornado appeared, still running backwards. “Right, I’m off! Best of luck!” Behind her, the ten container wagons and another fifty empty flatbeds, hoppers, vans and tankers clattered behind her - just about every truck and wagon left in the yard. With great care, she threaded her train around the Motorail, and into the distance. 

Bloomer was still goggling at the sheer length of the train when the end of it came by. “Eh?” 

“I will tell you, later.” BoCo hissed as the rear of the train, which consisted of a brake van, a steam engine that looked a lot like Tornado, a diesel that looked exactly like BoCo, and… “Ward? What are you doing here?”, passed by. 

“Who is Ward?” Asked the electric intercity train as he disappeared into the distance on the end of the train, a red lamp dangling off of his face. 

There was a long pause as both Bloomer and the 37 on the Motorail absorbed what they just saw. “BoCo… did you and Tornado…” Bloomer began, but when he looked over to where the secretive diesel had been, he found that BoCo had driven away!

“Be seeing you! Stay safe!” The green diesel called from the yard, as he was quickly connected to the remaining container wagons, before powering across the bridge as soon as the signalman would let him. 

“Thieving youngsters...” Bloomer grumbled to himself as the red lamp at the end of the container train vanished from sight.

“Very crafty, elder.” The 37 whispered respectfully, as the last of the cars were loaded into the wagons. 

As the 37 started reassembling his train, Bloomer’s driver re-emerged from the station, fireman in tow. “Right-ho, we’ve got a few pickups to make and then we’re off.”

“Pickups?” Bloomer looked around the yard. “There’s nothing left!” 

As it turned out, there was, just a bit. On Sundays, the railroad ran ‘period’ excursion trains down the main line, and they’d procured a pair of reproduction LNWR open carriages for when it was Bloomer’s turn. The coaches were expectant, apparently having been told what was happening by the shed staff. “Quickly please!” Maribel, the lead coach said. “We don’t want to get left behind!”

“Nobody is going to leave anyone behind!” Bloomer said firmly, ignoring a creeping sense of being ‘out of the loop’ - this was not the first time that someone had been worried about being left behind, as if the drawbridge were going to collapse or somesuch. He worried he was missing something important. 

Following them was Lilly, a former passenger coach that had been turned into the kitchen coach for the Permanent Way train. She was a full sized Mark 2, and was now laden down with literal tons of kitchen equipment. Bloomer groaned a little as his coupling stretched out under her weight. “Too small for this nonsense…” He grumbled. “Should’ve had the thieving idiot do it.”

Next was a piece of little-used rolling stock: the railway’s scale test car. Named Ingot due to his weight and shape, he sat behind the shed unless a yard needed to re-calibrate a weighbridge used for weighing goods wagons. “This must be serious if you’re taking me with you.” He said as Bloomer dragged him out of his weed-covered siding.

“Steel, actually.”

“It, erf, seems, agh, that way!” Bloomer gasped as he lugged the heavy wagon into motion. “Do they fill you with lead?”

“Agh.”

Then, there was a very long trek out of the yard, (“Heavy, fucking train..”) across the station throat, (“Look Blooms, the Motorail left a wagon behind for us.” “Oh. Joy.”) and back down a track that ran around to the far side of the station, (“When did this get put here?”) a little used siding that P-way trains sometimes parked in… oh dear. 

“Oh thank goodness!” Marion the steam shovel gushed as Bloomer pulled up to her. “I thought I’d be left here!”

Bloomer ignored her, staring at the siding in disbelief. “You all do see my driving wheels? How there’s only two of them?” He glared at the yardmaster and the stationmaster, who looked at him  like he was the mad one.

There were four cranes/shovels - Marion, Eh & Bee the breakdown cranes, and Jebediah - a diesel crane who worked with the P-way team. Each one of them was a heavy beast in their own right, and Bloomer would probably wear a groove in the rails before he got them moving, let alone Ingot and Lilly. 

“Don’t worry, we’ve got it covered.” The yardmaster said, climbing into Jebediah’s cab. 

“What’s he gonna do? Push?”

“Yes, actually.” Jebediah glared. “I’m self-propelled and mighty strong, you’ll do well to note.”

Bloomer was entirely too out of his depth at this point, and mumbled a thanks as the already heavy train was coupled to the line of cranes. Blowing his whistle, he pulled away slowly, expecting his couplings to go tight and stay that way, but he was pleasantly surprised to hear Jebediah’s motor rev up, and then feel the weight go from “immovable” to “manageable.”

They made for a bizarre sight as they rolled out of the siding and backed into the station. When they first got moving, Bloomer had felt ridiculous and vaguely self-conscious, but that faded as he stared out over the yard, and found it totally empty. Between all the frantic train shuffling, and the reduction in traffic over the last week, there wasn’t a wagon, coach, or engine to be seen anywhere. 

It was honestly quite spooky, and that was before he looked into the station building, which was empty as a tomb despite it being the middle of the day. Only the staff were left at this point, and they were leaving the station too, carrying personal belongings and certain company items. 

Somewhere in Barrow proper, a clocktower bell chimed twice, and everyone looked towards it. “I didn’t know there was a bell in the town.” Lilly murmured. 

“It’s because usually you can’t hear it.” The stationmaster said as he shoved a porter’s trolley loaded with cases of company documents and the cashboxes from the ticket booths into the Kitchen coach. “S’not supposed to be this quiet ‘ere.”

Bloomer had thought that the full severity of the events unfolding around him had sunk in, but as he listened to the tolling bell, while also watching the assistant station master lock the doors of the station, he suddenly felt like the world was ending. 

Honk-honk

The spell was broken by a horn sounding from the junction behind them, and everyone who could do so whirled around to see a small diesel multiple unit roll into the station.  

“What in the absolute fucking hell is that doing here?!” The stationmaster swore as the train came to a complete stop next to Bloomer. 

“Hi.” Said the DMU - her number identified her as 170 640 - with some amount of embarrassment. “Sorry I’m late. Signaling issues.”

At this point there was some amount of shouting. It turned out that this train was the 0910 service from Manchester to Norramby, and was supposed to have already departed Sodor in the other direction by now. In fact, it had been so long, with so little notice given about it, that both the NWR signalman and the Barrow stationmaster had assumed the train had been cancelled. 

When the multiple unit meekly said that her railway always got the train there, no matter what, there was a further round of shouting about blasted Open-Access Operators! 

Like every other train that day, she was heavily laden with passengers, and the station staff had to guide everyone who wished to depart the train through a side gate on the platform end as the stationmaster stomped up and down the platform, bellowing into his phone at someone.

This turned out to be most of the people on the train, and once the stationmaster calmed down a little, he addressed the multiple unit and her driver. “Alright, here’s the skinny - you go over that bridge, there ain’t a promise you’re coming back over any time soon. The whole Island is locking down tonight. Unless you can get there and back in the next thirty minutes, you’re up without a paddle.”

“Well I suppose there’s nothing else for it,” The 170 said, her weak voice surprisingly steely. 

“Yeah.” Said her driver. 

“We’re going over.” | “We’re dumping them here.”

“WHAT?”

Man and DMU stared at each other for a moment, and then there was more shouting and arguing, this time about cowardice and stupidity. It went on for some time, until eventually the DMU had tears at the corners of her eyes, and the driver was storming off down the station road in search of alternative transport back home. 

Bloomer looked at the little multiple unit with newfound respect. “That took some nerve. Good lass.”

“Thanks.” She sniffed weakly. “I can’t just leave - what would that make me?” 

“A Bad Engine.” The coaches and cranes, and P-Way equipment said firmly. Bloomer and the station staff still on the platform looked at each other for a moment at that, suddenly confident that wherever this unit ended up getting stored until she could be sent back, she would be well cared for. 

The last passenger - a man on crutches - was escorted out of the station on an electric cart, and with that the station doors were securely locked. A spare driver had been part of the station staff, and he hopped into the DMU, taking her across the bridge just before the clock tower tolled 2:30.

“Hopefully this all blows over!” She called to Bloomer as she receded into the distance.

“I can only hope…” Bloomer said as his odd train set off for its last stop. 

There was a single Motorail wagon left on the platforms. He was an older flat wagon, with Whitewall stenciled on his front end. The electric cart from the station bounced across the staff crossings with a porter at the wheel, and its charger cable bouncing around in the cargo tray. It joined a Mercedes Unimog lettered for the P-Way gang, the stationmaster’s personal car, a huge porter’s trolley the size of a Mini, and a few motorbikes and bicycles belonging to the station staff on the back of the wagon. Staff jumped out of the coaches and quickly strapped down the cart and went around checking the other straps. A few of the Motorail staff came over and boarded the train as well, while one man (who shouted that he lived in Barrow when asked why he wasn’t boarding) locked up the station and dragged a gate across the automobile entrance before walking off towards the city bus stop on the corner. 

The stationmaster got out of his seat in Maribel, and marched forward to take a spot in Bloomer’s cab. “Go forward nice and slow. We’re stopping once we clear the switch.”

“Sorry?” 

“Just a few more people.” 

Orders now given, Bloomer and Jebediah slowly pulled and pushed the train out of the motorail siding and onto the main line. Once Whitewall had cleared the switches, they clunked into place, and Bloomer and the rest of the train watched in astonishment as every signal in the yard and the main line dropped to red. Soon thereafter, the signalbox door opened, and the signalman came out, a bag over his shoulder and his face hidden behind a paper mask. He turned off the lights in the box and locked the door, before coming up to Bloomer. “You’re the only train for two miles. Treat everything between here and the bridge as green.”

For effect, he unfurled a green flag, waved it, and then clambered onto the train, sitting as far away from everyone else as he possibly could in the crowded open air carriages. 

Once again, Bloomer was struck with the sudden sensation that the world as he knew it was coming to an end. With a subdued whistle, he set off again, leaving Barrow-in-Furness station and yard as quiet and empty as a tomb. 

The train slowly rolled over the bridge, and Bloomer gasped as he saw the difference between the island and the mainland. Sodor was quiet, the streets of Vicarstown still except for a bus and a police car driving along the waterfront. A few people with cameras were in the park by the station, photographing his approach. 

Barrow was alive and noisy. Traffic rumbled and roared, the sound of people talking and chatting from bus stations and bike baths was audible even over his own chuffing. In the distance, the Jubilee Bridge was choked with traffic - police cars on the Sodor side of the bridge were stopping each car, and forcing most to turn around and leave. Those allowed through the bridge were almost all cars with license plates from Sodor or the Isle of Man - any one without had a large sticker applied to the back, although what it meant wasn’t immediately obvious. As the train went by, a flurry of radio calls, some of which were audible on the cab radio - meaning the railway’s dispatch was involved to some degree - went through. On the road bridge, the police began waving through what traffic there was - it seemed like most, if not all of the Sodor-plated automobiles had gotten through already - and then made some kind of waving motion to the bridge operator. Red lights began to flash, and the road bridge began to raise, cutting off Sodor’s road network from the mainland.

Meanwhile on the railway bridge, a man stood aside the tracks, a yellow flag in his hand. It was the bridge operator, and he hopped onto the footplate as Bloomer steamed by, a bag in his hand. 

“Thanks.” was all he said, and Bloomer had another pit-of-his-firebox moment as he realized that he had been out of the loop, somewhat badly. 

The bridge control cabin was on the mainland side of the bridge, but there was a small emergency panel on the Sodor side. The driver applied the brakes, but didn’t stop, as the train drove by the small electrical box. The bridge operator jumped down, ran to the box, wrenched it open, and in one smooth motion jammed a key into it, turned it, and pushed a yellow and black striped button, before removing the key and slamming the box closed. He was so quick that he was able to clamber onto Jebiediah’s cab steps as the diesel crane rolled by.

Behind him, a klaxon sounded in the distant bridge cabin, and an automated gate closed over the tracks. A pair of massive locks proceeded to open, and with slow mechanical precision, the Walney Channel railway bridge began to cycle open, severing the last link between the mainland and the Island of Sodor. 

Bloomer, pulling what the media would later refer to as “The Last Train,” felt a chill go down his boiler as the massive bridge span locked into the upright position. The world has just changed, He thought. And it won’t be for the better.

------

A few days later, as the Virus hit the mainland in force through packed Chunnel trains and repatriation flights, and as the first few cases sprung up inside the Island’s hospitals, Bloomer knew he was right. 

[danielsbian]

can’t sleep brain go brrr i just finished no good nick and i seriously need to know is the pacing or whatever just so fucked up for anyone else

especially after the poker tournament episode. everything just feels so off. the fact that it is eric’s second appearance, and the only hint we get of him and jeremy liking each other is eric cheering for jeremy during the final match. there were no other hints towards their feelings or jeremy’s sexuality, even knowing it was coming it was a massive shock. and sure, the show is about nick, so evidently we aren’t supposed to know all about the thompson’s lives outside of her, and yes, jeremy did want to keep it a secret from everyone. but this is the one of two times something is kept from us - the viewers, and the only time it doesn’t make sense.

the second time something is kept from us for a long period of time is what exactly the thompson’s did in regards to franzelli’s - hence why nick wants revenge. it isn’t until episode seven of part two that we learn what actually happened, and why she wants revenge on the thompson’s. and that makes sense to do, because this entire time nick has been softening towards them, and their disregard and lack of regret completely undoes all of that. and that is completely valid.

but jeremy’s sexuality we know virtually nothing about until nick sees him kissing eric. it feels so out of place it’s almost forced, and that’s not the only reason. eric is a massive problem in it too - as mentioned it was his second appearance, and he didn’t have much to say other than believing the moon landing was faked. he has a very 2d personality, being a conspiracy theorist. he develops a little bit later, but only enough to humanise him and show him as prime candidate for jeremy’s boyfriend. the show fails eric completely, and by doing so they fail the relationship between eric and jeremy.

another issue i have with pacing is how quickly we - the viewers - discover will’s true intentions. for nick it makes sense that she’s revealed as a con who wants revenge on the thompson’s in the very first episode, since the show is called no good nick. for will, however, it is strange. we see nick put the pieces together on 90s day, after hearing him repeat sam’s catchphrase. as the audience though, we already know. and it makes for a good bit of dramatic irony, but we already have that in bulk, and the reveal to us and the reveal to nick are less than half an hour apart (since they were all released as one) it feels completely useless. and the hints were all blatantly obvious as well. will being “really good at poker” and knowing how to stack the deck, and then repeating sam’s catchphrase, it adds up perfectly and very obviously (both sam and omar mention fixing poker games).

[clunelover]

We told E that the whole pronouns rollout might go better if we could tell some key people, such as grandparents, what is going on. So we got a chance to do that yesterday at Father’s Day. It was sweet (on our end at least), xie was very eager for us to tell everyone and wanted me to get everyone gathered around the table asap to break the news. And I did IMO a very good job of being succinct and breezy and informative - I included a bit about how you’d use it in a sentence, I was like “so for instance, I could say, E is here at the table, and xie is wearing xer beautiful rainbow shirt.” And I said we know it takes getting used to, please try to use the pronouns but people mess up and we won’t make a big deal about it if we mess up.

And…I am honestly pretty bummed at their reaction. It was my dad and my stepdad, who are both liberal but in that boomer way where like, they get it…TO A POINT and somehow that point, for so many of them, seems to be gender identity.

My dad said “well I don’t like pronouns” which I just sort of talked across to make him shut up, and then he said to E, “okay so xie - should I just call you ‘xie’?” And E said “no…” and I said “so, xer name is still E.” And xie said “yeah, it’s just using xie/xer instead of she/her.” And my dad said kind of nastily “well that’s clear as mud” and so I just said something like “it takes some getting used to but we think it’s important to be supportive” and then changed the subject. And stepdad said something vaguely positive after we made this announcement…then just continued using she/her the whole time, including today we saw him again for some yard project, and Jeremy was texting with him including some messages about bringing E with him to work on the project, and was using the pronouns and then even explained it again (“this is how you use xie/xer, and it’s pronounced like zee/zer”) and stepdad just did not acknowledge that and continued she/her-ing.

Oh and my sister IS actually cool about it, but I haven’t heard her use the pronouns in a sentence, because she doesn’t talk much about my kids cause she doesn’t care about them [NO that’s not right, and actually she was recently making a little more effort with E, but I’m smarting now and very tuned in to everything everyone says and does and she def just…hasn’t spoken aloud of either kid lately!]

Ugh! Annoyed! I know my dad and stepdad love our kids, and I did think they’d at least try. And I thought my dad would keep his negative opinions to himself, for xer sake if nothing else…thought wrong! I will debrief with xer about how xie feels about it, and how we should handle it with grandmas (i.e., if I’d thought my dad would be like that, I probably would have asked for xer permission to tell him more in advance so he would not have done his reaction in presence of E. So now we might want to be prepared for that sort of thing possibly happening again, which, ugh).

[adamwatchesmovies]

Serenity (2019)

Serenity is goes off the rails so spectacularly it's fascinating to watch. This is not your typical “so bad it’s good” movie. It looks great. The actors are convincing. There are no technical errors to ridicule. The problem is writer/director Steven Knight, who thinks he’s made a movie so smart, so clever and so deep its surprises will have you picking your jaw off the floor. This movie is not smart; it’s preposterous. My advice? First, watch the trailer. It does a fantastic job selling the picture. Knowing nothing else, just go in, and wait. You'll learn that "surprising" does not equal "good".

Baker Dill (Matthew McConaughey) makes a living taking rich tourists fishing for sharks, swordfishes or other aquatic monsters. Lately, he’s become unhinged due to his obsession with “Justice”, an elusive giant tuna. His Captain Ahab-like antics have pushed him to the edge of bankruptcy. Then, his estranged ex-wife comes knocking. Karen (Anne Hathaway) offers Baker $10 million to kill her abusive husband, Frank (Jason Clarke).

While watching, it’ll be obvious something’s not right. Frank, for example. He’s a one-dimensional monster. In every scene, he’s giving his wife poisonous and threatening looks, getting drunk, talking about frequenting underage prostitutes, or otherwise proving himself to be wholly irredeemable. He is not a human being. He’s a cartoon. Similarly, other characters act strangely. Constance (Diane Lane) pays Baker for sex, there’s a strange bespectacled man (Jeremy Strong) who looks totally out of place and is constantly trying to catch up with Baker to give him something. You wonder what kind of place Baker is living in. If the man had any sense, he would jump on the $10 million offer even before learning his son (Rafael Sayegh) is receiving regular beatings from his stepfather. She could’ve given him $1,000 and he would’ve eagerly done it but not in this movie. So what’s actually going on?

In a twist, we learn this whole scenario exists within a video game. No one has any free will - except when they do, more on that in a second. Their actions are pre-programmed. This explains why Baker is obsessed with that fish, why Frank is an enemy you should have no qualms about killing, etc. Everyone is broad on purpose. That doesn’t really matter. Warning someone that the offensive thing you’re going to say is offensive does not make it acceptable. Acknowledging that a joke is unfunny does not make it funny. It gets even dopier when Serenity tosses the idea of free will into the mix. If Baker kills Frank, the teen who programmed the game will kill his real-life father. I guess the logic we’re operating on is that violent video games you make yourself can inspire real-life violence? It makes no sense.

Serenity drops a bombshell of a revelation on you and then lingers on it. All this gives you is enough time to realize just how dopey a story this is. As a cherry on top, it introduces another last-minute twist that’s in no way shocking or surprising, particularly considering everything we just saw means nothing in the end. You'll wonder what everyone involved was thinking. (January 24, 2020)

[filmasticreviews]

The Gentlemen and Guy Ritchie as a crime-action fashionista.

‘The Gentlemen’ 2019.

Guy Ritchie’s The Gentlemen from 2019 has started some heated discussions over whether this film is an absolute masterpiece or the exact opposite. Who is already aware of Ritchie’s filmography will not be surprised to read that this is another one of his big movies with big scenes, stacked with big names. There is nothing about him that screams ‘humble’, and you might just like it, there is no right answer to ‘is Ritchie reaching too far?’. That depends only on the viewer. 

The one thing painfully accurate here is him sticking to the title - there is mainly just the gentlemen, only one lady (but what a lady she is - Michelle Dockery, an absolute star as Rosalind, is more of a ‘Gentleman’ than any of the other thugs ever were), which is not surprising for Ritchie’s followers. It’s just one more in Ritchie’s book of crime and action films, but it is a strong position without doubt. Without spoiling too much, the first scene is already throwing the viewer off, not knowing which part of the story are we on, and we barely sat down by the screen. Over the course of the film, Hugh Grant’s character Fletcher is constantly juggling our attention and his own storytelling back and forth, left and right, up and down. The flashbacks, the fast forwards, the that-never-happeneds, the narrative is all over the place but in its perfect chaos, it makes complete sense and engages without fail. The Gentlemen is a content packed piece that does not let your attention rest, or you might just miss an important detail of another swindle that has just been revealed moments ago. The world of drug trade and criminals, which almost all the characters are part of, is very detailed and crucial to the story, taking almost a spot of a character itself. 

Even the most brutal scenes are mixed with humour, however at times what Ritchie must have thought was good humour, were just racist comments. It needs mentioning as the POC characters play a big part in the film as well, so it might be misleading to some, on the actual intention of the jokes but they just feel unnecessary, as if only made for the sake of putting in comments on race. 

There are some outstanding character portrayals in The Gentlemen, starting with Hugh Grant whose appearance might be a shock to those who loved him in “Notting Hill” (1999) and other rom-coms. This is not about the time passing, it’s Grant completely absorbing the sleazy journalist who will always take one step too far to get his information, and does not back away from even blackmailing. It is a surprising, but welcome to see Grant in such an entertaining role, so different from his typecasted sweet guys. Every actor in this film shines on their own, their performances are a joy to watch and, if you are not convinced about the crime fact-paced story, you will not regret staying only to see McConaughey’s monologues or Jeremy Strong’s microexpressions that add so much to every moment. The costumes are so distinctive for each character, perfectly fitting their personal background, but the colour schemes and style, makes all the characters look good in a scene together. Their elegance fits The Kingsman (Vaughn, 2014), but brutality and physicality is so characteristic of Guy Ritchie its unmistakable. Visually, everything in The Gentlemen fits like a tailored suit. The strong British identity is prominent throughout the film, so much that the American main character - Mickey - does not feel like an obstacle in the Britishness, but a glass panel from which everyone else’s English accents, costumes, manners, reflect and shine bright. Some consider Guy Ritche to be too generic for his films to show something new, but The Gentlemen is at the same time just as far away and as close as it can to Snatch (2000), and it still feels fresh and entertaining. Ritchie has qualities about him that feel almost Auteur, there are moments here in which Ritche operates so smoothly and confidently (even on the meta level) about the film media, visibly having fun with the techniques he has already established for himself, that he could not be mistaken for any other filmmaker. So, if you are looking for a strong film with well-written, witty dialogues, and are able to overlook (or enjoy) immediate and sometimes unexpected violence, Ritchie has created a piece just for you.

He quite possibly could not get more Guy Ritchie than that. And it might be the best quality of The Gentlemen.

[imaginefan]

Alone

Lorenzo St. John X Reader

Word Count: 703

Requested: Anon

Request: You turn off your humanity cause your parents died. Enzo was the only person who actually cares about you but he got distant from you cause he was getting closer to Bonnie and didn't see the signs that you were really bad. He tries to get you back but you won't listen to him and he's also why you shut it off too cause you lost Enzo too even though he is still around.

Tvd one shot please.

You can’t believe that you hadn’t seen them before they died, they kept asking you too but you kept telling them that you were busy, you don’t even know what had you so busy. No that’s a lie you knew what it was, it was the friends that claimed that would do the same for you but they weren’t even at the funeral, the ones that you died for yourself, the ones that you continued to fight for even when you should have gone home and now as you stood over the graves of your parents with none of them there, you wondered if it was even worth continuing but it’s much harder to stop when you were immortal.

So you did something else, something that was supposed to make you feel better but all it did was make you feel empty. The only difference was that you couldn’t find it in you to care, with your emotions turned off you couldn’t care what happened around you. That was how you found yourself in a back alley bar everyone around you was dead and you had just finished feeding “(Y/N) what are you doing?” You recognised the voice immediately. “Enzo, I didn’t know that you’d be around here.” You smiled as you gestured around the room. “You are hungry, take your pick. What’s mine is yours.” You winked as you leaned back in your chair “or maybe you want something else, I’ve never really been a big consumer of alcohol so you can definitely have whatever is behind the bar.” “(Y/N) what happened?” He asked. “They’re dead.” You answered “while I was out helping all of you, they died, you know the last time I saw them was before I was a vampire and that was almost 3 years ago now.” “(Y/N)-” “I know that 3 years aren’t that many to you given the fact that you’ve lived so long and before I know it 3 years will be nothing to me either right?” You asked. “(Y/N) I know that you have lost everything but-” “You know the worst part wasn’t that I lost them, it was that the people I still had weren’t there, when I had been there for every one of them, when Jeremy died I sat with Elena, when Caroline was turned I tried to help her where I could, when Bonnie found out about her magic I was there too but the only reason that I’m here to grieve today was because you… A stranger at the time thought I was worth more alive than dead.” You said and he looked down at his hands. “Do you wish that I had let you die that day?” He asked. “You know even after everything, I’m not sure that I do but I’d have to flip that switch to know for sure right?” You asked. “Do you think they would still be alive if I was dead?” “I don’t know, do you believe that it was our enemies that killed them?” He asked. “There was hardly anything left of them, it couldn’t have been anything else.” You answered. “You saw them?” He asked. “They needed someone to identify what was left of them.” You answered “they left their faces so I would know that they were gone.” “So tell me what are you doing here?” He asked. “What do you mean?” You asked. “Well why aren’t we looking for the people who killed your parents, you know I would move heaven and earth for you.” He said. “I didn’t know that.” You answered through gritted teeth “when I stood alone, crying, you know they had no family to see them off, I was their only child and everyone else had died before them, I was there alone.” “I never meant for you to be alone.” He said “I didn’t know.” “You didn’t know because you pulled away long before they died, so leave me be, I’m not the reason that we play hero.” You were gone before he could say anything else but he had failed you, everyone had, he couldn't make them see but he could surely fix what he had done if he tried.

Requests and general question!

[proxyprincesse]

What happened on Halloween? 🎃

hahahahahahaha ouais

So, the troupe disembarks for a Halloween trip. It is going to be a blast. The streets are packed l'épaule à shoulder et shoulder a l'épaule. We all dressed for the holiday. It's not so big of a thing back home, but Odd always brought out all these English language horror movies every October. Awful stuff. Lots of chocolate syrup and shrieking string instruments.

He was in film club, you see. And had a showing every friday night, year round, but Octobers were a lot of fun. And then whenever we had a free weekend, you know, whenever that happened, me and him would watch all these monster of the week shows. Supernatural, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, all those sorts of things.

And with Robin being American now, I wanted to try out an American Halloween.

So, it's Halloween, 2022 Salem, Massachusetts, USA, and I'm dressed like Willow Rosenberg in full witch outfit. William is Angel -- we thought about doing Buffy/Angel, but I just love Willow so much -- and everyone else has their own thing:

Me: Willow

William: Angel

Robin: An evil wizard

Emily: Rainbow Dash

Maggie and Davey went as a witch and familiar

So, we show up, it's still daytime we do some fun tourist stuff. There's museums about the witch trials, a reenactment of an execution using an actual transcript of a trial, some new age shops to hang around.

Everything is fine until the haunted house.

Of course, it's the haunted house. Why would that thing choose any other place to grab us?

We walk in, and it's a run of the mill little thing. I love it, it's like a little live performance through someone's little place. It's like $5 to get in and people put on little tricks and spooky scenarios. It was like another little live performance.

So I'm having a wonderful time until the end. There's a hallway and someone chases you with a fake chainsaw.

It's a straight hallway, I don't know how we got separated.

At first me and William are together. It seems like we all got paired off. Like it knew we would be most affected that way.

William and I ran until we found ourselves in the Scanner Room. And we could hear someone stuck inside.

« Help me! »

It was Ulrich, banging on the inside. Jeremie's voice echoed through the room

« Aelita, William, get him out of there. The factory is on fire! »

We find a piece of rebar to pry the scanner open. It's no use. We struggle and struggle. Finally, we get purchase, pry the door open, and out creeps, along with Ulrich's silent body, an ooze of Marabounta.

There's nothing we can do for Ulrich now. The Marabounta moves slowly here, more slowly than it did on Lyoko. Maybe, it's struggling to keep up? Weighed down by its physical form?

The Marabounta spreads across the ground, the Scanner flashing a strobe while it summons more and more of the little black specks that eat up anything they touch.

We pull the hatch, opening up the access ladder in the elevator shaft and begin climbing. It's hot in here. And we still have to get through the flames to reach the Rhone. But on the first underground floor, standing on the platform, was Robin. Dressed, once again, for his wedding day. But this time, Emily was no where to be found.

« Give us a hand getting onto the landing, I ask. »

« Hmmm, mouais, je pense que je le *puisse*... he says back, actually speaking French on his own for once in his life. »

He grabs a hold of the elevator cable and jumps down like he weighs a million tonnes and drags the elevator upward at tremendous speed, pushing along the Marabounta as they come.

William flings himself to the platform and offers his hand. As I rush to get out of the way of the rocketing wall of death, I lose my flat.

Barefoot through the fire it must be.

The smoke is getting pretty thick now, so I rip a segment from my dress and use it to block hopefully *some* of the smoke from getting in my lungs.

I make a quick prayer that I will quit smoking if I get out of here alive.

I got on my knees and crawled along the ground hoping to reach the underbridge entrance and go right to the river, but William and I got separated, and when I got to the other side, I was back in Robin's childhood livingroom.

There were pictures of la Chenille all around, his aunts too. One of Aunt Roda and a couple of Davey and his dad. There was a Playstation hooked up to the tele. But there was only one person seated on the couch, already out of date when Robin was in school.

« Bienvenue, Princesse. Il y a un tort, when I let you go last time. Never should have left. Non, non, non, non... trop dangereux. You'll be safe here from... who was it again? Rassilon? Yeah, sure. He won't get you here or whatever. »

« Qu'est-ce que tu veux, *Robin.* I spit his name at him. »

That is not Robin. One, he is barely even *trying* to keep up the charade. And two, Robin isn't this good at French.

« We're alone now, it's time to have a chat. »

« I guess, but why do I want to talk to *you*. »

« Oh, please, big sister, is that anyway to talk to your Butterfly? »

« You are not Mon Papillon, I tell him, You are the thing from before. The thing from that place. »

I struggle to even call it a place. With my time in Lyoko, I can feel when time is funky. Time loops are familiar, like a sweet breakfast of hot chocolate and croissants. Normal time is like plain rice. But this? This is an intense and overwhelming absence of flavor. A fundamental emptiness of time.

I realize where I am. I am in the Nowhere. The Void. The place Robin spent a century, and I a mere two days.

« You are not Robin, I say, you are the thing that trapped Robin. »

« See, you are smart, he answers. Don't anybody listen to what Jeremie has been saying across Kadic since you left. You're smart. »

« What do you want, *Robin*?" »

The name is wrong. I know it's wrong. But it has Robin's face and I have nothing else to call it.

« Robin's fears weren't exactly *unfounded*, he hisses. You all *are* in danger and I am the *only* one that can keep you safe. »

« More like we need protecting from you. »

« Now, now, you just need practice. Snippets and pockets here and there. And eventually you will be ready for what needs to wake up.

« Yes, wake up. But, let's get you back with your friends. I don't need you spending another month in a hospital bed. Let's chat again soon. »

« Let's not. »

« Très drôle... »

And with a snap of his fingers, the living room disappears and I'm falling through the dark. Slowly, I start to feel an almost ramp behind me. I skitter across it until, as it slowly curves from slide to hill, I get my feet under me. And a door opens in front of me.

And I'm back in Salem, Massachusetts. Everyone ran out the door at the same time, all looking like we'd just seen a ghost.

Anyway, how was *your* Halloween?

[chaand-sitara]

έξι

"Sometimes, we forget to see the things right in front of us, and later on in life, we regret it heavily"

"Damon what the hell do you even think you're doing?!" Primadonna said as she stepped away from the older Salvatore but he was slowly walking towards her too.

"Doe, listen-" but before he could say something another force came between them and grabbed Primadonna and hugged her tightly while giving her small and quick kisses all over her face but then suddenly that force was ripped out of her and when she looked she saw it was..

"Stefan!?"

Primadonna was now seriously about to faint, she tried to backaway from both of the boys, ignoring how the hell did they know about her house, and run back to her car.

But before she could reach the handle Stefan and Damon were now in front of her blocking her from her car. "How the hell did you two come from there.. To here?!"

Stefan then said "Listen Doe-" Primadonna interrupted him and said "First of all, it's Primadonna for you, and what kind of person calls someone Doe!?"

Damon then said "The kind of person who loves you, seriously Doe?! What is wrong with you? Why can't you remember anything?"

Then Primadonna said "what? Remember? What do I need to remember?! And please Damon, if I look like an easy target, that doesn't mean that you can play all this shitty game with me got it? I don't want to break Caroline's heart!" then as soon as the boys were about to say anything else, Primadonna heard a voice in her ear saying "You don't have to remember anything"

And then suddenly everything went black for her..

.·:*¨ ✘♚✘ ¨*:·.

Primadonna then woke up with a loud gasp and then saw that she was in the back seat of her car, and now it was evening which meant that she had skipped today's class too, plus she had also forgotten her few textbooks there. She got out from her car and stretched her sore muscles.

"wait.. Was it a dream? Oh god. Primadonna seriously? Why would you dream such ghastly thing? Alright the dream's over and now I have school." Primadonna again stretched a bit while trying to be not weirded out by the dream she had last night and drove off to her house to change for the day.

She went inside her house and quickly freshened up and picked out a white cropped tank top with light blue faded Bell bottom and on top of it she picked a purple cropped cardigan and wore her matching sneakers and made a half ponytail of her long dark chocolate brown hair.

She went outside and got in her car and drove off to school without eating her breakfast.

●・○・●・○・●

Primadonna now was inside the school and had parked her car in the lot and when she was going to class, Tyler came up to her and said "Oi! Prima! We have the pre-game rally today! And weren't you in the cheerleading team?"

Realization hit Primadonna like truck, she thanked Tyler and then they both went to the bonfire which was happening for the game.When she got out she rushed towards the football field where everyone else was.

She came right next to Bonnie and then she heard Bonnie say "Hey, what's up? Oh my god, why do you look all sweaty?" then Primadonna shrugged and said "Uh, just doing some practising, nothing much"

Bonnie nodded and Then all of them saw Tanner getting up on the bench and then he said "Wait, wait, wait. Let's be honest here, in the past we used to let other teams come into our town and roll right over us!" Mr. Tanner exclaims, and everyone in the crowd begins 'boo'ing, so he continues. "But that is about to change! We've got some great new talent tonight, starting on offense, and I can tell you right now, it has been a long time since I have seen a kid like this with hands like these! Let's give it up for Stefan Salvatore!"

Everyone was now roaring and Primadonna could see that her history teacher was feeling really happy because of the reaction everyone gave for his speech. Primadonna was also cheering a bit but then suddenly she saw a bit moment in the corner of her eye and saw That Jeremy was stumbling a bit and there was also a cup in his which Primadonna guessed was alcohol.

Then Primadonna saw Vicki trying to stop Tyler going towards Jeremy, one thing everyone in the whole school knew, including the new kids, is that Jeremy Gilbert and Tyler Lockwood were not a fan of each other.

She turned to her right to tell Bonnie to stop the incoming fight but saw that she was now not there so she decided to stop it herself and as she was going near, she heard Tyler say "Don't look down, You can have her when I am done"

Primadonna gritted her teeth thinking 'Seriously? He can't be more of a jerk?' this line then triggered Jeremy so he went towards Tyler too and punched him in the face. Primadonna then started running than walking towards them when Tyler had shoved Jeremy on a car which made alcohol bottle shatter on the ground.

Primadonna then went towards Vicki and said "Why aren't you stopping them?" then Vicki shook her head in worry and said "They both are fighting like made people, anyone who butts in, will surely get hurt."

Then Primadonna left Vicki and grabbed Tyler from behind to stop him, but Tyler pushed her away and she fell on the floor, which made her hand fall on a piece of glass.

Bonnie and Caroline came up to her and then Caroline said" Yikes.. You need to get it healed.. " then Bonnie said" Here, take my car keys, there is an emergency medical kit there, do you want me to come?"

Primadonna then said" No it's fine, I will go."Primadonna then got up, and dusted herself off with her uninjured hand and left to go to the parking lot.

As soon as she reached Bonnie's truck, she sat on the backside of it and took out the kit, then she carefully removed the glass piece and then calmed herself down.

Then she turned down to get a cotton and then wiped the blood off which showed "Wait what? I am sure there was a cut! I even removed the glass!" Primadonna then touched her hand again but there was no cut.

Now confused, she decided to go back to the field when she heard "Or, I could just eat her." wait what? She then bent down behind the vehicle she was near and looked out and saw Stefan and Damon were talking about something.

She was about to go back when she realised Damon had talked about eating someone, not something.. 'wait.. Is Damon a cannibal!? And who is he eating.?!

"You are not going to hurt her Damon" then Primadonna heard "No.?" Damon said in an amused tone, then she heard Stefan said "No, because I know that deep down you care about her, feel for her. I was scared that you had become the monster that you pretended to be."

Then Damon replied "whose pretending?" Primadonna was now scared 'I knew it! Something was wrong with these brothers. God I wish Elena could see this now, thank god my little crush on Stefan is dead now.. But that weird dream? Let's just ignore it.'

Then she heard Stefan say" Then Kill me" Primadonna's eyes went wide and then she thought 'wait what? Are they killing each other?'

Then Damon scoffed and said "Well, I am tempted" then Stefan shook his head and said "No, you're not. You've had lifetimes to do it and yet, here I am. I'm still alive. And there you are, you're still haunting me. After 145 years. Katherine is dead. And you hate me because you loved her, and you torture me because you still do. And that, my brother, is your humanity."

Then Primadonna was now in a shock 'wait.. Are they 145 years old?! What the hell!? Are they even human?!' then Primadonna saw her teacher, Mr. Tanner moving towards the boys 'Oh no.'

" Salvatore what hell?!we've got a game to play! And have you seen Neris?! The whole cheer squad is searching for her with her uniform in Bonnie's hand goddammit."

Then Before Stefan could do anything Damon sped off behind Tanner and killed him. Primadonna was now stunned.

She let out a pretty loud gasp as Tanner fell on the floor with a pool of blood,then she suddenly closed her mouth wishing they didn't heard her.

"You hear that brother? I believe we had an audience for our wonderful performance" Damon said as his eyes were now dark and veins were popping out near his eyes.

Then Stefan replied with a shaky voice "Please, Damon leave that person alone.. Let them go.." then Damon said "Oh no, we can't, let's play hide and seek stranger, even though I know where you are."

Primadonna then turned around and tried to run but then suddenly Damon's monstrous face was now in front of her and before she could scream he grabbed her and turned her around and blocked her mouth with his hand and rushed them back to Stefan, when Stefan saw her, his eyes went wide.

"Oh look brother, we had a VIP audience, little miss Tsimehcla Heiress with us, now what would daddy Tsimehcla think if he looses his only owner to his multi billion chain? Shall we take it? We can compel him to do so."

Stefan then said "Please leave her Damon, she is Elena's friend! You can't kill her! You can't kill anybody like that." Then Damon said "Boo, wrong answer"

He now his fangs out and was about to bite her when suddenly an amythest coloured force threw him away from her. Both the brothers were now shocked but knew that it wasn't Primadonna as they couldn't feel anything supernatural out of her.

Damon then turned back to normal and then got up, dusted his leather jacket off and said "Anyone, Anytime, any place" He then Grabbed Primadonna and shoved her at Stefan which made him catch her and place her behind him "Don't ever-even for a second-think I have my humanity. Oh wait. Almost forgot.Compel her brother, I don't want her screaming around vampires! Eek save me! After we go."

Stefan then reluctantly nodded and Then grabbed Primadonna face and then his pupils went large and he said" You saw nothing which happened here, you were coming back after finding something in your car and then saw Tanner dead and will scream as soon as we leave and you hear a snap."

Primadonna then pushed Stefan away and said" What the hell are you saying Stefan, what do you guys want? My dad can give it to you, trust me at this! But please leave me alone."

Damon was about to leave but then when he heard her both the brothers were shocked and Damon came back and scoffed saying" Drinking bambi really weakened you brother that your Compulsion doesn't even work anymore.. She was supposed to do everything you said now.. But I don't see her mindlessly repeating what you said. "

Then Damon pushed Stefan away and grabbed Primadonna face roughly and repeated the lines Stefan had said before but with little more frustration, Primadonna still didn't feel anything happening to her but she knew the brothers might kill her if it doesn't happen again so she decided to act and follow what Damon had said earlier.

"I was walking back after finding something in my car and then I saw Tanner dead on the floor and I will scream when you guys will leave and snap." Damon then smirked and then he said "That's how it's done"

Both the brothers left and then Primadonna placed her hand on her mouth, hyperventilating, then she suddenly heard a snap and gave the whole school her scream queen type scream.

1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:47

Primadonna was now between many students while Bonnie, Elena and surprisingly even Caroline were comforting her.

"God Prim.. This is the second time you saw someone like that except this time the person's dead." Caroline said, which made Elena and Bonnie glare at her, which made the blonde girl shrug.

Primadonna then closed her eyes when suddenly she saw Damon's face with dark eyes again and then when she quickly opened them she saw that she had bit of blood of Mr. Tanner on her sleeve when she had fell when the amythest force had made her fall down and Damon away from her.

She got up and said "Uh, I need to go, see you at the lock wood Manor tomorrow, bye" she waved them off and ran away to her car, when she reached her home she was got in her bathroom, turned on the shower and got in without removing her clothes and started to cry her eyes out because of everything that happened with her since the brothers have entered her normal extra character life.

[floripire]

UNNAMED POST 2x06 DRABBLE

"miss dalisay, please, sit."

the way doctor saltzman speaks is soft. quiet. gentle. as if he's about to deal with a feral animal. and as she sinks down into the chair on the opposite of his, flori finds that she doesn't quite know what to do or say or think about that.

the croatoan is gone now. hope killed it. and josie restored everyone's memories.

this is a win. (except it's not because there's this wall, this thing, between landon, hope and josie now.)

this is a win. (except it's not because doctor saltzman looks at flori in a way that makes her feel as though he knows everything.)

this is a win. (except he's going to send me back loops around and around and around in her head until there is no other thought.)

"you're good at explaining things, right?" asks doctor saltzman. flori nods and doctor saltzman continues: "you're a bright girl, floribeth. so i need you to explain to me why you thought that enrolling under false pretenses was a good idea because, believe me, this is not the type of conversation i wanted to have with you."

"i didn't. jeremy gilbert vouched for me."

"yes, and he did so under the impression that you were honest with him. why weren't you? wasn't that the first thing i told you when we met?"

to this day, she remembers exactly what he told her when jeremy first showed up on the doorstep, right before his daughters gave her the tour: you have to be honest with me and with emma tig, miss dalisay, otherwise i’m unsure whether or not I can offer you a place at this school. after all, our community is build on trust and honesty: i cannot let anyone into this school who turns out to be a danger to my kids or myself in the long run.

"because i thought you'd send me back if you knew. i don't want to go." her voice is a mere whisper, yet it seems to be the loudest sound in the room aside from the ticking of the clock. "i have nowhere else to go. i don't want to go."

flori is bracing herself for the order to pack her things and go but it doesn't come.

not yet? or not ever?

she looks at him. looks through him. and for the first time, flori sees him as he is. doctor saltzman is just a man. just a man at the helm of a ship that's about to sink beneath the waves.

sure, he's been inundated in the world of the supernatural for longer than flori's been alive, but he's got his weak spots and his trauma and both have been exploited more than once by this world and the people in it.

this world drowned him and spat out his old bones, flori can see that much. and now he's trying his hardest to make sure it doesn't happen to the children in his care.

but he's going about it all wrong, flori can see that too.

"can you tell me something?" she asks instead when doctor saltzman doesn't say anything. she hates the way her voice trembles. hates the way that her eyes fill up with tears. hates the way she feels so small. "if i told you everything from the beginning, can you honestly tell me that i wouldn't have been a threat in your eyes? can you honestly tell me that you wouldn't have sent me back?"

there's an active spell on his office at all times. one that makes it so people inside the office cannot communicate with the ones outside. it also makes it pretty much impossible for the people outside the door to listen in.

she understands why it's a necessity but she also hates it because, in this moment, she would like nothing more than the comfort of the heartbeats of the people she loves. the ones she considers friends more than anything.

hell, she'd even take the heartbeats of the super squad over the silence.

"i suppose we'll never know, now," sighs doctor saltzman and he pinches the bridge of his nose. it's not a 'yes'. it's not a 'no' either. but it may as well have been.

once a vampire hunter, always a vampire hunter.

"do you wanna know what i know?" flori asks as the dam breaks and the floodgates open. "i know we're not having the right conversation. you're not asking the right questions. you're operating from a place of fear and i understand that because... because this world has taken so many of your loved ones from you. but---but hope is not her dad, your daughters aren't their uncle, mg isn't his mother and i am not my sire."

she's wrapping her arms around herself, shivering.

another sigh from him, torn as he is between his role as a father and the headmaster.

more sobs from her between the quiet admission that she wants her parents, wants mia and loren, wants jed.

"what kind of conversation should we be having, miss dalisay? and what kind of questions should i be asking, then?" to flori, it sounds like he's humoring her, indulging her, before he breaks the bad news and breaks her along with it.

"how can i help?"

"what?"

"four words: how can i help? that's all you have to ask. you're not supposed to shield us. you're not supposed to protect us from the world or the world from us. you're supposed to... to work with us. you're supposed to ask us what can i do to help you grow and... thrive and what can i do to help you... to help you succeed, to... to help you find a way to actually live in this world after graduation---you're... you're supposed to be our professor charles xavier."

"hope said something similar," doctor saltzman notes. "she called herself wolverine, but i've always been more of a dc kid."

flori laughs wetly. "she's not wolverine, she's jean grey. phoenix force."

"wouldn't that be landon?"

"no, landon's more of a... peter parker. or to put it in dc terms: we're the teen titans. or maybe the authority. wait, no, i got it: we're the justice league."

"if you kids are the justice league, does that make me batman?"

"um, i---i don't know. jim gordon, maybe?"

doctor saltzman laughs too, says: "i'll take it." and flori is grateful for this moment of levity until reality comes crashing in. she swallows audibly, then says: "right---yeah, uh, i'll go pack my things and... and say my goodbyes."

without giving him the chance to respond, she stands up and makes her way over to the door. she's not nearly as steady on her feet as she would have him believe but at least she's only wobbling and not straight up wiping out.

"miss dalisay - floribeth, wait, that won't be necessary. just answer this one question, please."

floribeth turns back to look at doctor saltzman, hand resting on the door knob, as he asks: "how can i help?"