#search engine comparison

[kyouka-supremacy]

Does anyone know where I can find the good quality version of this image? It's so frustrating because when cross searching on google it'll tell me the original quality is 850x478, but I can't find a way to download it in that quality. This is another version of the image (I'm guessing it's Mayoi promo art):

But I liked the clean white background one...

[coquelicoq]

just saw the word "forest" and legit could not parse it. i was like...the most "for"? the most for what???

[house-of-angst]

Y'all mind if I talk about Present Mic's quirk for a second? Great.

So, my partner and I have been having Erasermic brainrot lately, and while we were binging content with them, I became interested in Hizashi's voice quirk. I began searching stuff about how sound/volume works, and linking it to his canon stuff.

I'll just say, the info I found makes him a pretty scary guy. It's a shame he's so underused in both canon and fanon.

Frequency

First of all, I want to talk about something everyone knows about him: his quirk is potent enough to shatter glass. Now, when it comes to decibels, it's always important to consider the time and distance a certain note is held for, since these can impact the "hit" a certain sound wave can have when influenced by effects such as the air or vibrations.

(Please keep this in mind for the reminder of this post)

When it comes to glass, however, it breaks almost instantly under the pressure of his voice. Our most constant example of this is the man's poor lenses, but there is a scene I'd like to talk about the most, it being he one where he completely shatters Shigaraki's tank.

One might argue that the glass was already weakened from Mirko's kicks, but that's honestly part of something that makes this so impressive to me; Mirko's legs are strong enough to straight-up rip a high-end Nomu's head clean off, yet this tank was tough enough to withstand two attacks from her - including her ultimate move - before starting to leak; and the fact she was heavily injured doesn't fly here, as we very clearly could see she wasn't holding back one bit.

Now, let's get technical.

According to Google, a normal tone of voice would be around 50 decibels, while the required to shatter glass would be a minimum of 105. For comparison, that's roughly the same volume as a jackhammer. Now, you might be thinking, "Oh, that's not so bad! Some singers can do that!" and you'd be right, but there's also some other things to consider. Allow me to explain.

Some singers can reach a pitch that can make glass vibrate enough for it to break, but I've personally only heard of this happening if the person has their mouth close to a smaller, empty cup, and even then the volume would be distributed around. Hizashi, on the other hand, was standing several feet away from this reinforced tank and was able to shatter it immediately, using the directional speaker around his neck to aim the volume. This would naturally require for him to hit even higher decibels, specially when you take into consideration that one's frequency must match the glass' for it to vibrate, which drastically increases when it's dampened. (Read next topic for more info on this)

And then there's his glasses which, like I've stated before, are the most common thing he breaks with his voice. Obviously, this is not directed and it's not a total shatter, but there is something to be observed; say, did you know the necessary volume for lenses to crack, when not being directly aimed at, would be that of a nearby shot from a highcaliber gun? That's roughly 140-170 decibels.

Harm factor

Boy, oh boy! I'm betting most of you were looking for this part when you clicked the read more, right? Look no further, I've got you covered, you just better remember what I mentioned before about distance and duration.

Hizashi's parents were unfortunate enough to have a mutant child that was born with his quirk already active, and I'm willing to bet a newborn doesn't have the slightest bit of control over a power as destructive as a sonic-powered voice, which immediately resulted in everyone in the room bleeding from the ears.

Sound-related ear bleeding is most commonly associated with a ruptured eardrum, which can happen at around 150 decibels and is about the same as a jet engine taking off. While a baby most likely unleashed his maximum voice power on the first breath, I believe something like that would, thankfully, only develop fully after puberty, just like with non-powered people like us, since his quirk is a drastic intensification of a common function and not a new ability altogether.

With that being said... The Finals Exam.

In this, Hizashi was standing very far and, even with the directional speakers, there were many obstacles in the way that kept him from landing direct soundwaves on the students. Regardless, Jirou's ears bled in less than 30 minutes being exposed to this.

This could have happened due to the fact that she has a hearing quirk, which would make hers much more sensitive, but let's study this, shall we? We don't have the exacts of what happened there, but the students are visibly uncomfortable upon the first soundwave, which would suggest it was at about 120 decibels upon impact (with 85 already being enough to cause damage to your ears) and being emitted even higher by him, considering distance muffles volume. Still, I think all that would be nothing compared to the scream he let out after those bugs started crawling on him, with how unfiltered that was.

With Jirou, it comes to no surprise this volume at this distance and time almost rendered her deaf, and realistically would take several months of healing time. How much do you want to bet Hizashi got a solid scolding from Shouta? I mean, it was supposed to be a challenge, but homeboy came this close to breaking her quirk.

Another thing I want to point out is that his voice is powerful enough to actually fucking launch people, and this only happens due to an event called acoustic trauma, basically meaning Hizashi can surpass supersonic levels. Although, it's important to note that this effect is caused mostly due to pressure and not so much as sound, so while it's not freakishly loud (about the same as thunder), it can still cause hearing and psychological damage.

! WARNING !

The following part contains graphic mentions of injury, and death. Do not proceed if these are sensitive topics for you.

Now, we look at the disturbing side of Hizashi's quirk. Buckle in, because it's a wild ride.

Remember what I commented earlier, about him having to hit even higher frequencies to be able to shatter Shigaraki's tank? First of all, as the doctor was sent flying, this qualifies as supersonic, but that's not all. To shatter such a protected tank, with liquid inside increasing the density, he'd have to hit over 200 decibels; which is considered extremely dangerous and most definitely fatal, as the threshold of pain is of 115-140 - this can cause damage such as crushed ear bones, ruptured lungs, or embolism. For comparison, this would come close to standing right next to a Saturn V Moon Rocket during launch, and is no longer considered a "sound" due to the vacuum.

With that being said, the man came very close to dying by Hizashi's hands (voice?) twice. Not only was he so close during the lens incident, literally being inches away from his face and in risk of getting his eardrums ruptured already, but if Mic had decided to raise his voice even more during his rage, it'd be possible for the frequency to make the doctor's inner organs malfunction, or straight-up burst from the pressure.

But that's not the worst part.

After establishing that the lethal amount of over 200 decibels would be necessary to shatter the tank given the circumstances, if he exceeded 240 and the doctor happened to be in the way of this, it would be enough to cause his head to explode upon impact. That old man better be grateful that he was standing a feet few away, and that the supersonic blast blew him away a bit more, or it'd be an immediate game over.

With all this being said, how devastating would it be for this guy to scream his rage out?

(Please keep in mind that many of the extreme cases in this are actually impossible to happen in a real-life scenario and are purely speculation!)

[wingedtyger]

How to Buy a Computer for Cheaper

Buy refurbished. And I'm going to show you how, and, in general, how to buy a better computer than you currently have. I'm fairly tech-knowledgeable, but not an expert. But this is how I've bought my last three computers for personal use and business (graphics). I'm writing this for people who barely know computers. If you have a techie friend or family member, having them help can do a lot for the stress of buying a new computer.

There are three numbers you want to know from your current computer: hard drive size, RAM, and processor speed (slightly less important, unless you're doing gaming or 3d rendering or something else like that)

We're going to assume you use Windows, because if you use Apple I can't help, sorry.

First is hard drive. This is how much space you have to put files. This is in bytes. These days all hard drives are in gigabytes or terabytes (1000 gigabytes = 1 terabyte). To get your hard drive size, open Windows Explorer, go to This PC (or My Computer if you have a really old OS).

To get more details, you can right-click on the drive. and open Properties. But now you know your hard drive size, 237 GB in this case. (this is rather small, but that's okay for this laptop). If you're planning on storing a lot of videos, big photos, have a lot of applications, etc, you want MINIMUM 500 GB. You can always have external drives as well.

While you've got this open, right-click on This PC (or My Computer). This'll give you a lot of information that can be useful if you're trying to get tech support.

I've underlined in red the two key things. Processor: it can help to know the whole bit (or at least the Intel i# bit) just so you don't buy one that's a bunch older, but processor models are confusing and beyond me. The absolutely important bit is the speed, in gigahertz (GHz). Bigger is faster. The processor speed is how fast your computer can run. In this case the processor is 2.60 GHz, which is just fine for most things.

The other bit is RAM. This is "random-access memory" aka memory, which is easy to confuse for, like how much space you have. No. RAM is basically how fast your computer can open stuff. This laptop has 16 GB RAM. Make sure you note that this is the RAM, because it and the hard drive use the same units.

If you're mostly writing, use spreadsheets, watching streaming, or doing light graphics work 16 GB is fine. If you have a lot of things open at a time or gaming or doing 3d modeling or digital art, get at least 32 GB or it's gonna lag a lot.

In general, if you find your current laptop slow, you want a new one with more RAM and a processor that's at least slightly faster. If you're getting a new computer to use new software, look at the system requirements and exceed them.

I'll show you an example of that. Let's say I wanted to start doing digital art on this computer, using ClipStudio Paint. Generally the easiest way to find the requirements is to search for 'program name system' in your search engine of choice. You can click around their website if you want, but just searching is a lot faster.

That gives me this page

(Clip Studio does not have very heavy requirements).

Under Computer Specs it tells you the processor types and your RAM requirements. You're basically going to be good for the processor, no matter what. That 2 GB minimum of memory is, again, the RAM.

Storage space is how much space on your hard drive it needs.

Actually for comparison, let's look at the current Photoshop requirements.

Photoshop wants LOTS of speed and space, greedy bastard that it is. (The Graphics card bit is somewhat beyond my expertise, sorry)

But now you have your three numbers: hard drive space, RAM (memory) and processor (CPU). Now we're going to find a computer that's better and cheaper than buying new!

We're going to buy ~refurbished~

A refurbished computer is one that was used and then returned and fixed up to sell again. It may have wear on the keyboard or case, but everything inside (aside from the battery) should be like new. (The battery may hold less charge.) A good dealer will note condition. And refurbished means any flaws in the hardware will be fixed. They have gone through individual quality control that new products don't usually.

I've bought four computers refurbished and only had one dud (Windows kept crashing during set-up). The dud has been returned and we're waiting for the new one.

You can buy refurbished computers from the manufacturers (Lenovo, Dell, Apple, etc) or from online computer stores (Best Buy and my favorite Newegg). You want to buy from a reputable store because they'll have warranties offered and a good return policy.

I'm going to show you how to find a refurbished computer on Newegg.

You're going to go to Newegg.com, you're gonna go to computer systems in their menu, and you're gonna find refurbished

Then, down the side there's a ton of checkboxes where you can select your specifications. If there's a brand you prefer, select that (I like Lenovos A LOT - they last a long time and have very few problems, in my experience. Yes, this is a recommendation).

Put in your memory (RAM), put in your hard drive, put in your CPU speed (processor), and any other preferences like monitor size or which version of Windows you want (I don't want Windows 11 any time soon). I generally just do RAM and hard drive and manually check the CPU, but that's a personal preference. Then hit apply and it'll filter down.

I'm going to say right now, if you are getting a laptop and you can afford to get a SSD, do it. SSD is a solid-state drive, vs a normal hard drive (HDD, hard disk-drive). They're less prone to breaking down and they're faster. But they're also more expensive.

Anyway, we have our filtered list of possible laptops. Now what?

Well, now comes the annoying part. Every model of computer can be different - it can have a better or worse display, it can have a crappy keyboard, or whatever. So you find a computer that looks okay, and you then look for reviews.

Here's our first row of results

Let's take a look at the Lenovo, because I like Lenovos and I loathe Dells (they're... fine...). That Thinkpad T460S is the part to Google (search for 'Lenovo Thinkpad T460s reviews'). Good websites that I trust include PCMag, LaptopMag.com, and Notebookcheck.com (which is VERY techie about displays). But every reviewer will probably be getting one with different specs than the thing you're looking at.

Here are key things that will be the same across all of them: keyboard (is it comfortable, etc), battery life, how good is the trackpad/nub mouse (nub mice are immensely superior to trackpads imho), weight, how many and what kind of ports does it have (for USB, an external monitor, etc). Monitors can vary depending on the specs, so you'll have to compare those. Mostly you're making sure it doesn't completely suck.

Let's go back to Newegg and look at the specs of that Lenovo. Newegg makes it easy, with tabs for whatever the seller wants to say, the specs, reviews, and Q&A (which is usually empty).

This is the start of the specs. This is actually a lesser model than the laptop we were getting the specs for. It's okay. What I don't like is that the seller gives very little other info, for example on condition. Here's a Dell with much better information - condition and warranty info.

One thing you'll want to do on Newegg is check the seller's reviews. Like on eBay or Etsy, you have to use some judgement. If you worry about that, going to the manufacturer's online outlet in a safer bet, but you won't quite get as good of deals. But they're still pretty damn good as this random computer on Lenovo's outlet shows.

Okay, so I think I've covered everything. I do recommend having a techie friend either help or double check things if you're not especially techie. But this can save you hundreds of dollars or allow you to get a better computer than you were thinking.

[patheticbatman]

I haven't seen any posts about this yet but l've seen some fan art that makes me feel this needs to be said:

Don't forget Leah Sava Jeffries has darker skin when making Annabeth Chase fan art!

She is much closer to Lupita Nyong'o than Zoe Kravitz when it comes to shading, reflection, and complementary color usage :).

Lighting for dark skin is different on light skin. Light skin gets changed by lighting, and dark skin reflects the lighting. Below is a lovely shot of Nyong'o's character from Wakanda Forever in mourning. The filmmakers emphasize the umber qualities of her skin in contrast to the funereal white and (arguably harsh) light across her shoulder below.

Try to pick spots that aren't directly in or near the light, and try mixing 3 or more! You can put it into a color mixer online, or even color pick, lower the opacity, and lay the shades over each other until you find one that fits. And of course, the more 'realistic' you want to go with shading and lighting, the more shades you're going to want to be able to explore vivaciously :D.

Let's take a look at the same 3 beautiful actresses I mentioned at the beginning, with a bad color picked area and a better-ish color picked area. (Please keep in mind, these are not perfect comparisons, as I was not able to find pictures of all 3 actresses under the same kind of lighting.)

Kravitz's has a clear difference between the two, but they aren't too far apart, in comparison to Nyong’o’s and Jeffries’s. Note the dullness in the poorly picked shades as opposed to the better ones. Also keep in mind that while Kravitz has a rosy undertone (at least in that picture - it’s from The Batman, which has stylized coloring) Nyong’o has a slight cool undertone (I can’t pin down quite what, but the picture is definitely not stylized like Kravitz’s).

Jeffries runs more ochre or russet, but neither of those are pink. They are more red than terracotta or umber, but to call Jeffries’s face rosy would be wrong. Err more towards the golden when drawing her.

^^saved an image from a writing tutorial long ago, but can’t seem to find it. If someone recognizes it, I’ll link it. EDIT: it’s from this post. Thanks @autumnrowancollector ! <3

And also, the darker skin gets, the less likely warm undertones are going to appear. Don't be afraid to use blue or purple or even green on occasion!

Additionally, cool lighting on dark skin is always a win imo.

(I was going to use that picture of Jeffries as Annabeth by the lightning bolt, but then I realized the lighting on her face doesn’t quite match up with where it should hit from that angle, and I realized they kind of just turned everything bluer, so screenshot time!)

(Also if you want another really great live action example, check out anything Aldis Hodge is in, like Leverage and Black Adam)(and of course there’s Spiderverse <3 but I want to post pictures of Hodge)

Now, to here’s a list of more experienced people’s advice:

Black facial features & hair

Shading digitally for a (somewhat) monotone Black character

Stylistic choices and places to start looking for inspiration (besides a search engine).

Coloring Black people’s lips

A better coloration tutorial

Also a nice tutorial for Indigenous skin tones, just in case yall want to draw Piper or use this information for other dark skinned characters :).

EDIT: Some actresses who are closer in skintone to use for Annabeth, provided by the lovely @blackfemmecharacterdependency ! If you can’t find a reference for Jeffries in a specific lighting, maybe check out these ladies’ pictures! It’s a reblog, so scroll down.

TLDR: Don’t make Annabeth pink and pale, make her dark and golden.

[bekolxeram]

7x03 analysis part 1 — Everything Air Ops

I promised helicopters, so now we get helicopters. I want to look into how Air Operations work in the 9-1-1 universe, in comparison to its real life counterpart in this first part. Then, I will try to figure out the location and intensity of "hurricane Ethel" during the clandestine operation in the second part. And finally, I will prove how risky it is to fly a helicopter into a storm and why Tommy deserves every bit of his Medal of Valor.

Location

Real!LAFD Air Ops operate (Station 114) out of Van Nuys Airport (VNY/KVNY). It's not only one the busiest general aviation airports in the world, it's also smack dab in between major green areas of the city of LA itself.

This location makes perfect sense in real life. Air Ops might get the occasional highway car wreck or urban structural fire calls, but most of their missions still consist of wildfire suppression and rural search and rescue. Being based at Van Nuys makes sure they can respond to emergency in a timely fashion.

in the 9-1-1 universe, the LAFD Air Ops are based at "Harbor Station", or Station 217. (Harbor and 217 are the same station, Chimney especially asked if Tommy was still at the 217 in 2x14 when requesting air support, unless the 911-verse LAFD has 2 different air operation units, which I highly doubt.) Obviously it has to be at an airport, because that's where the hangers and helipads are, and going by "harbor" I can only speculate that it's in the Harbor Region of LA.

The only non-military airport in the LA Harbor Region is Long Beach Airport (LGB/KLGB), but it's quite a busy commercial airport, probably not a good one to run emergency services from. There's also the Zamperini Field (TOA/KTOA) nearby in Torrance, although not exactly inside the Harbor Region, it's coastal and close enough to the 2 LA ports I guess? Feel free to create a whole new airport using your imagination though, as you know 9-1-1 is set in an alternate universe where geography and physics work differently.

Helicopters

The LAFD Air Ops have 5 medium (FIRE 1-5) and 2 light duty (FIRE 6/7) helicopters, you've heard Tommy in 7x04. Everything applies to the real world counterpart, but the medium type that real!Air Ops operate is AgustaWestland AW139, the Italian-made medium sized twin-engine helicopter with a 5-blade main rotor primed for emergency response and off-shore oil rig transportation.

It has auto-pilot, an anti-icing system for harsh weather and even auto-hover suitable for hoist rescue missions. In a passenger transport configuration, it can carry up to 15 passengers in a 3 row seating plan. In an SAR (search and rescue) configuration though, the middle row can be removed for gurney space. It's big and powerful enough to transport multiple patients, but at the same time, light and agile enough to get into difficult terrain.

The AW139 is designed to be flown by 2 pilots, flying solo is also possible, but only under VFR (Visual Flight Rules), with an additional certification, which LAFD pilots can and do. To fly it under IFR (Instrument Flight Rules), it always requires 2 pilots according to the FAA last time I checked.

The light helicopter type real!LAFD flies is the Bell 505 Jet Ranger X, a single engine twin-blade made in Canada. It's an relatively new airframe, set to replace the aging Bell 206, which the LAFD used to operate. It's quite a bit smaller than the AW139, it can only fit 1 pilot and 4 passengers.

While it's perfectly capable of carrying a Bambi bucket to assist with aerial firefighting missions, it's mainly used as a training aircraft for new pilots and HLCO (Helicopter Coordinator) when there is a major catastrophe that requires on-the-site air traffic coordination.

These are all brand new and sophisticated aircrafts that a mere TV channel can't get their hands on without a government budget. So for 911!LAFD Air Ops, ABC went to their usual helicopter service company for prop aircrafts.

Helinet Aviation provides all sorts of helicopter services from aerial journalism, medevac, delivery to regular chartering. All the 911!Air Ops scenes in 7x03 and 7x04 are naturally filmed in the Helinet hanger, for convenience's sake, at VNY, just a runway across from real!Air Ops.

911!Air Ops

Helinet hangar Street View

I believe I've identified all the helicopters shown in 7x03 and 7x04, but let's get the 2 in the background which probably do not belong to 911!Air Ops out of the way:

N72EH, a Sikorsky S76C++, still in its Boston MedFlight livery. Sold to Helinet in 2022, possible used as a medevac vehicle currently? Unlikely to have anything to do with 911!Air Ops, probably just happened to be in the background to make it seem like there were many helicopters.

The one Tommy flies Eddit to Vegas in is N67TV, an Eurocopter AS350B2 Écureuil (aka squirrel). No fire department would ever let employees take their expensive equipment out for a joy ride so it's likely that in universe, Tommy rented it from somewhere outside of the station. IRL though, according to this forum post, it's used as a backup helicopter for all its customer news stations, but also any TV or film production purposes outside of journalism.

Now, for the one seen in the hangar, therefore explicitly belonging to 911!LAFD:

N29HD, also an AS350B2, also a news helicopter. According to this reddit comment, it used to be shared between CBS and FOX, but now it seems to be configured as a dedicated aircraft for ABC7.

The one the who cares gang stole to rescue Bobby and Athena though has a fake registration number on it:

You just have to look up Helinet's fleet, and you will see this is obviously a DHL livery, and it's quite easy to find out that this is actually:

N211FN, an AS350B1 (so an even older variant than the previous two), operated on behalf of DHL for package delivery service.

Don't get me wrong, the AStar (how the AS350 is called in the US) is a versatile and reliable aircraft. It the 4th most produced rotorcraft in the world, someone even managed to land one on top of Mount Everest. But it's kind of small? It can seat only up to 5 passengers with 1 pilot, and there is hardly room left for any gear. There is also no space for stretcher, so anyone they rescue would have to sit upright. It's just not very realistic.

I have no idea what medium duty helicopters 911!Air Ops operate, we're unlikely to see them in the future. There is this Bell 205 in 4x12 Treasure Hunt, but it clearly says L.A County Rescue on the tail.

Pilots

Real!Air Ops pilots wear beige flight suits, it's the aeromedics who wear blue, and helitac crews wear orange. I'm not complaining too much though, Tommy looks good in blue. (I think the chief pilot wears dark blue, but I'm not sure.)

Helicopter pilots in general usually wear helmets, in case a particularly strong pocket of turbulence slams you against the body of the aircraft, or a bird decide to fly through the windshield into your face, but I get that it gets in the way of the camera, so I'm just gonna enjoy Tommy's beautiful face.

Real!Air Ops pilots work on a 24/48 shift schedule just like any platoon firefighters. Due to the danger of pilot fatigue on aviation safety, they do try to limit their continuous flight time to 6 hours before taking a prolong break.

There are 5 levels of pilots: pilot I (trainee), pilot II (probational), pilot III (full pilot), pilot IV (lead pilot) and pilot V (chief pilot). The chief pilot oversees the entire Air Ops and work on a 10 hour per day, 4 days a week schedule. The rest of the pilots are put into 3 shifts, each shift with a pilot IV, 2 pilot IIIs and 2 trainees/probies, together with 4 aeromedics. (Can't find the most updated version, the lastest one I can get my hands on is from 2022, so good enough?) Therefore Tommy's Bobby would not be a captain, it would be a lead pilot.

I've already explained in detail the timeline of Tommy's career as a firefighting pilot, but here is the short version of it: Once accepted into the LAFD pilot training program, he would have to train with the LAPD for 180 hours then back to the LAFD for 200 hours, that takes around 2 years, and by then he would be a probie. After that, he would have to slowly build up flight hours then train and certify for all types of missions on the medium duty helicopter, that would take another 2-3 years, and after that he would be promoted to a pilot III, which is probably the rank he holds now.

We can see from the form Hen submitted in 7x03 that she initially asked for Lucy as their pilot, as she's forgotten that Tommy also worked there. Fortunately Chimney called Tommy, as Lucy most likely would've still been a probie if not just a trainee.

Melton

I have no idea who he is.

I can sort of see his badge says "firefighter"? At real!Air Ops, everyone wears a flight suit as uniform, so that they can hop into a chopper in an emergency. I don't know what a dude in a regular uniform with the regular LAFD patch on his arm doing there.

Tommy's arm has the Air Ops helicopter patch on it.

Real!Station 114 though do have a crash unit staffed with regular firefighters, maybe Melton is with them? But then, why is he doing with Hen's helicopter requisition?

[strawbubbysugar]

Coming off anon for this one cuz oh boy it’s theory time and I’m feeling very silly

(I just woke up at the time of writing so sorry for any typos, rambling, or confusion lol)

Alright! So, I’ve been thinking a lot about the existence of Eclipse and the theories popping up about them lately mainly: that Clipsey is a recycle of Moon’s broken body. Which I’ll touch up on first.

The issue that was presented with Moon by this definitely-not-at-all-suspicious engineer was that his processing unit was smashed and ‘unsalvageable’ (which we know to not be true), and aside from the obvious injuries cause by Trap, no major problems with Moon’s case are brought up. His *internals* were destroyed, aside from his battery which was reused.

Continuing forward, the SOMA comparisons. Reading through a plot synopsis of the game, I can’t help but link the destruction of Moon-man’s processing unit and Simon’s brain injury together a bit. Considering that that is the partial cause for Sun and Moon combining and the reason for Simon getting his brain scan copy. Both undergoing heavy ‘brain’ damaging and being brought to very odd circumstances because of it.

With the assumption that this is *actually* Moon’s body, “Uploaded into a modified corpse” is a *very* apt description for what Eclipse is. They’re a copy of someone (two people technically) inhabiting the dead body of the original, almost like Pry/ncess in a weird way.

That’s where the comparisons for the game and Bethroned end to my knowledge however, so time to move onto the more ‘looking too far into things’ section of my theory,

The design and color scheme!

Starting off, I noticed that the coloring of the Sun side on their face was reused from *post incident* which makes sense, that’s how Sun would’ve been seen last before running away with Pry/ncess, the eyes obviously match up as well.

Though the tops of the rays have noticeably sharper points to them if that’s anything at all, it’s impossible to draw the something the same way every single time after all so that can be easily written off.

The same can be said for Moon as well, the coloring of his face matches up with theirs, however his other features are… very much not intact. Very close but not quite.

The coloring and patterning of the hat is entirely different, the cape maintains the same coloring but the stars on Eclipse’s are much smaller and more faded than Moon’s as well.

What’s throwing me off though is the eyes, for both post incident and for Eclipse the right eye gained a black sclera, Moon’s pupil turned white, but Eclipse’s stayed red.

If Eclipses body was Moon’s then this could’ve happened naturally, the eye could’ve simply underwent the same damage/change as it did with Moon’s form in Sun’s body. Though do to this being his actual form the pupil could’ve kept its regular eye color.

Their lack of a mouth could also mean that they can’t speak, another drastic contrast in characterization to our boys. From the artwork we’ve been shone of them they see, cunning, clever, but very, VERY distressed. (Be a bit weird to consciously design eye-bags on your new king after all, right? That’s their own fault.)

And for my last point, their crown and the Opal.

This is the most obvious ‘combination’ in their design, it gets the rounded bottom of Sun’s and the gem formation and top shape of Moon’s. When overlayed on top of each other you also get similar colors to Eclipse’s crown, though more cleaned up and appealing on the eyes.

The gem in this crown has been confirmed to be an opal (if my memory serves me right I can’t find the post anywhere to confirm, tumblr search engine is bleh)

There were a few pieces of folklore and symbolism relating to the opal that I found particularly interesting with what little we know about Eclipse.

Mainly, it representing loyalty and goodluck as well as royalty. A lot of other interpretations I found pointed to it granting foresight and being responsible for prophecy, something you’d certainly want your king to have after the huge string of ‘bad luck’ that befell both of them.

Loyalty to prevent another incident like Sun choosing Pry/ncess over his kingdom and trusting them first, foresight and prophecy so that they can avoid incident like King Freddy dying and, well, Sun and Moon’s incident. and royalty is obvious.

Though the loyalty interpretation and foresight/intelligence can vary widely in intention depending on if Chica or PeePaw (maybe both, stares at Trap) is responsible for their existence. Cant speak that much on it before they’ve even appeared in the story.

Alright so what am I getting at with all this? Well, put simply, Eclipse’s design and name are very very intentional and combining the Princes was clearly in mind when they were (re)built by whoever their creator is. I believe that they attempted to program, be it from scratch with parts of Moon’s processor or with some kind of backup of Sun *somehow*, Sun into Moon’s body and combine their ai together in order to make a new heir.

Again, can’t find the message, but Eclipse’s existence was described as ‘decidedly uncomfortable’ which is very understandable if this were true, having you and your brother’s brain and memories COMPLETELY sewn together, not even with semi separate minds or personalities like with the actual Sun and Moon, would be very, VERY lacking in the ‘good for your mental health’ department, especially if you knew you aren’t the original ‘you’, just a clone, a do-over, a combination of two other failures that you need to clean the mess from up.

Put simply, I believe Eclipse is a combination of Sun and Moon, but not THE combination of Sun and Moon. If that makes any sense. They’re a replication of both placed inside Moon’s old body and used to fill the empty spot on the throne and potentially-maybe-hopefully-not help Afton.

Hands down my favourite ask ever. Like oh my god you did it. You got everything. You caught all the little secrets I put in and I’m flabbergasted. WOW. I AM. SO HAPPY HSFSG

THANK YOU FOR PUTTING SO SO SO MUCH TIME AND EFFORT AND ENERGY INTO THIS ANALYSIS BECAUSE I JUST. I MIGHT CRY. THIS MEANS SO MUCH TO ME SOBS :;;

[heavens-moonlight]

𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 | 𝟬𝟭 : 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗗𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘

SYNOPSIS | 02 : THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

Author’s Note: The following chapter will be where the misery starts but I wanted to build character and friendship dynamics here first. Updates won't be as frequent (because of one word: life) but I have pre-written a lot for this drama already so I'll see this work to the end! Hopefully this is enjoyable so far, and feel free to let me know what you think (or what you want to see in future chapters)! Until next time! ♡

"THE INNOCENT CIVILIANS HAVE LOST, AND THE MAFIA WON!"

Your heavy palpebrae that moments earlier masked your vision in dimness, adorned with a trace of gentle sleepiness, slowly flutters open at the announcement, eyes emerging from the veil of unconsciousness. Finding yourself awakening with an overwhelming and unshakeable wave of trepidation washing over you, your chest tightens in palpable distress. The heaviness pales no less in comparison to the weight of an anvil sinking down atop your sternum, lungs punctured by bowed bones.

You sit there in a state of unease, mind racing with apprehension and discomposure, searching for answers to the troubling sensation coursing through your body. The sense of foreboding grips your heart tightly like an invisible vice, leaving you breathless and unable to shake off the unwanted feeling.

In a haste, you slide open the window beside you, the glass screeching against rubber weatherstrips expanded by scorching summer heat. Through the humidity, a light breeze brushes past, breathing air and life back into you. It's not hard to recognize the way your subconscious whispers insistently that something is amiss, the combination of uncertainty and uneasiness blending together into something you can't decipher.

Your hand comes to rest against your chest, heart pounding strongly and ceaselessly against your ribcage, almost as though wanting to escape from its confines. It sends you reeling, akin to an out of body experience. For some unexplained reason, confusion clouds your thoughts as you struggle to clear the thick shroud of fog encasing your entire being, the mist muddling and settling deep within you. A haunting sense of premonition creeps over as if some elapsed memory shares in its ominous secrets. Yet, try as you might, you could not uncover the source of this inexplicable anxiety. You're left clueless except for the empty feeling both in your mind and soul, like you have forgotten something important.

When your breathing returns to normal and your pulse has settled back into its regular rhythmic beat, you shake your head to clear it of the sudden upsetting thoughts. Only then do you realize you had fallen asleep at one point, head tilted back against the warm and worn peeling leather seats of the bus. The sound of loud conversations and even louder hum of the engine, the smell of smoke, and the bump of the vehicle's wheels on uneven pavement brings with it a gentle sway of movement that returns to you a sense of comfort you can't put into words.

Glancing down at your lap, you notice that you had left the entirety of a horror movie playing on your phone, the end credits having long since rolled endlessly, words drenched in red blinking cursorily across the screen. You rarely experienced nightmares, not even after indulging in disturbing content, and certainly not when it's broad daylight out still. So then, why now?

The sound of a book plopping down to the ground pulls you out of your reverie and you lean forward to pick it up, folding it closed to survey the front cover.

흰나비의 살인.

The White Butterfly's Murder.

You smile to yourself. It was so like Yoon-Seo to read a murder mystery on a school trip, the same exact one you had gifted to her only yesterday for her birthday. A love of thriller was what brought you both to be such good friends in the first place, and it didn't seem those like-minded interests would diverge any time soon.

"Yoon-Seo ah..." Scooting forward in your seat, you lightly tap her on the shoulder and she jolts upright, turning back to look at you, unreasonably startled, a shiver running down her spine. "What's wrong?" Your grin drops slightly at her growing restlessness, face now pale as if she had encountered an apparition. Her eyes shift back and forth, guarded for a microsecond before snapping back into her usual self.

Yoon-Seo takes noticeably deep inhales, drawing the attention of Jung-Won, her seat mate for the ride, who pauses mid-coding to look over, displeased.

"What did you dream of?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Han Seol-Hwa. Lee Yoon-Seo.” Jung-Won clicks her tongue teasingly, pointing a finger from you to Yoon-Seo. “I'm making it a rule that you guys stay away from blood, murders, and deaths this trip, alright?"

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. "Alright, I promise you eomma. No more nagging Yoon-Seo and I."

Jung-Won scowls at you playfully, pushing her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose and you stick out your tongue in her direction impishly. Yoon-Seo laughs quietly at the exchange as you hand her back her book.

"Thanks, Seol-Hwa."

"Tell me all about it later when we've arrived." Despite muttering it under your breath to avoid being heard by Jung-Won, you fail miserably.

"Seriously?!"

You and Yoon-Seo laugh together as Jung-Won goes on a tangent about how psychologically, scary things are not good for young, impressionable minds, fingers click-clacking away all the while. Fortunately preoccupied, she doesn't notice Yoon-Seo sending you a wink, a hidden promise between you two to indulge in the realm of the supernatural regardless.

A resounding and victorious scream travels all the way from the back of the bus and you turn around to observe the friend group seated there.

"See?! I told you all Yool was the Mafia! Let's play again," Eun-Ha says, arms crossed. "You idiots never listen to me, do you?" She slaps both Yeon-Woo and Eun-Chan on the back of their heads as petty punishment.

"What can I say? You simply can't kill the master." Yool leans back, legs thrown atop the headrest of the seat in front, a proud smile stretched across his face.

As they're about to commence another game, Jin-Ha gets relayed a message through Seung-Bin. "Tell them that Kyung-Jun is sleeping and to shut the hell up."

"YAH!" The random shout is so out of place and entirely uncalled for, but it's effective for the time being. "Kyung-Jun is sleeping," Jin-Ha parrots, obedient. "You guys are always so fucking loud that we can hear you before we can see you!" Met with blank stares all around, he's finally satisfied at the reduction in volume and goes back to looking at something Seung-Bin points out to him on his phone. Unbeknownst to him, the rest switch to eyeing him in disfavor behind his back.

It wasn't hard to see the hierarchy of the bullies' group, although Jin-Ha most likely doesn't notice anything wrong with the skewed power dynamics.

Kyung-Jun unpredictably opens his eyes, turning to glare at Heo Yool specifically, but when he swivels back around again, your eyes meet coincidentally and he simply stares, an unreadable expression on his face. You avert your gaze hastily, not wanting to stir up trouble with the bullies, especially not Kyung-Jun who was quick to anger if someone so much as breathed wrongly in his direction.

Your eyes search the rest of the bus lazily before landing on Jun-Hee, sleeping peacefully unaware, head tilted towards the window. The sunlight bathes him in a soft yellow glow and you can't help but stare as a single ray of light filters through the curtains, slanting lightly across his face. You etch every slope, every contour, and every dip of his countenance behind your eyes so that the image of him doesn't fade.

The comfortable rise and fall of Jun-Hee's chest, synchronized with his steady breathing is so serene that it captivates your heart. In high noon, the gentle curves of his face seem even more soft, accentuated by the calmness enveloping his features. Fondly, you observe him in the morning's bright golden haze, and in the beauty of the falling sunbeams, you wonder if he'd ever see you in the same way.

A rolled-up piece of paper hits you square in the face and you finally drag your gaze away long enough to see who it is. Whipping your head around, you're met with snickers from Hyun-Ho and Dong-Hyun, who don't even try to hide they're the culprits.

You're being obvious. Hyun-Ho mouths the words discernibly. Just sit next to him if you're going to gawk.

You chuck the paper ball back toward him and it smacks him in the mouth, your nose scrunching up in focus mixed with annoyance.

"I think that's the most creative way I've ever seen someone being told to shut up," Dong-Hyun voices approvingly, shooting you two thumbs up.

"Are you my friend or hers?" Hyun-Ho asks childishly, somewhat snubbed.

"To be honest, she can be more frightening than you at times even though she's half your size."

You giggle to yourself as the two start squabbling in their seats across the aisle from Jung-Won and Yoon-Seo.

For the most part, after having transferred to Yooil High, you were fairly well-liked by everyone for your just and nonjudgmental attitude. That, and you pretty much kept to yourself, stayed out of trouble, and knew not to dig your nose in other's business if it didn't concern you. You weren't popular by any means, but not a single person had a true reason to dislike you and you hoped to continue that track record.

By a stroke of bad luck, your parents died a few years ago in a car accident, and you've been living with your cousin Hyun-Ho ever since, adopted by your aunt and uncle-in-law. They have been nothing short of welcoming and loving, and the same goes for Hyun-Ho, who acts no less like your real brother. Sure, he's annoying at times but it's just his overprotective nature and ease of accepting the older sibling role. You got on quite quickly with Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won, and Hyun-Ho made sure you adapted to his own friend group, introducing you to his best friends Jun-Hee and Dong-Hyun. You loved your companions dearly, all incredibly close and inseparable ever since you could remember.

But you couldn't remember when you began to see Jun-Hee as more than that.

Friends.

It's not the first, and it certainly won't be the last time you remind yourself of that fact.

Just friends. Nothing more and nothing less.

Except, you're not the only who was harboring feelings for him. Where you were quiet and discreet about it, So-Mi is loud and unabashed. It's hard to ignore and pretend you don't hear her snapping pictures of Jun-Hee shamelessly and without permission, the shutter ticking in quick succession.

"Isn't this crazy? It's like a photoshoot, right? How does he look like that? Even while sleeping?" So-Mi rattles off questions in awe, more to herself than anyone else.

Woo Ram doesn't miss a beat in his reply. "I'll tell Jun-Hee about your crazy obsession with him."

"Could you, please?" So-Mi widens her eyes, batting her lashes imploringly. "I'll use that as an opportunity to tempt him."

You hear Ji-Soo's laugh ring out brash and clear. "This delusional girl, seriously..." she chides. "You've been saying that since last year. When will you actually find the courage to tell him?"

That's the question you ask yourself also. You don't blame So-Mi. Sometimes, you think it might be better to not have been best friends with him. It only complicates your feelings further, too afraid to ruin years of friendship, but also too filled with wishful thinking on the mere possibility of it growing into anything beyond that.

Sighing, you turn to look out the window, trying your best to tune out their conversation even though it doesn't work. There's not much to hold your attention when the scenery is endless stretches of barren trees and even emptier infrastructure, or lack thereof, rolling by.

The setting sun dyes everything in a blaze of orange, making it appear as if the city was burning, the sky collapsing.

"Seduce him now," Yu-Jun taunts, voice giving way to his utter lack of confidence in So-Mi's coquetting abilities, knowing full well the impossibility that the two would ever end up together.

"Cut it out! It will happen soon...just not here." So-Mi tries to shush her friends as they holler at Jun-Hee teasingly, with all intent to wake him up.

Woo-Ram and Yu-Jun successfully manage to rouse him if the sound of So-Mi's indignant squeals is anything to go by, coupled with the unmistakable clicking of her phone's camera shutter, pressed by accident this time around.

Somewhere in between listening and musing, you had begun to doze off again when you feel the seat shift and sink beside yours. The movement is so light and careful that you don't pay it any notice at first.

"Hey, I thought when you flirt with someone, they're supposed to come to you and not away from you." Ji-Soo's snickers mix in with So-Mi's annoyed remarks aren't as jarring as you thought it'd be after everyone was subjected to the silent rule earlier.

You feel your head droop forward before someone touches the side of your face gently, fingers grazing the curve of your cheek to angle your head into the broad line of their shoulder.

The pads of their fingers trace the underside of your jaw in a featherlight motion, and you lift your face in alarm, curious as to who would do such a thing especially if they weren't necessarily close to you

Eyes trailing upward, your vision refocuses and they widen at the sight of Jun-Hee staring down at you, gaze soft and unwavering as he stares, transfixed, pupils shining. One hand is hanging in midair, held steady to shield your face from the sun.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but no words come out, a frozen expression of surprise on your visage.

Jun-Hee's lips tilt slightly upward, the motion bunching his cheeks up, almost as if he was trying hard to suppress his laugh.

Pulling yourself together, you sit up properly and lean away from his shoulder. "Sorry."

You don't notice Jun-Hee's smile dropping imperceptibly and the light in his eyes dimming as you're no longer within close proximity. "Why are you apologizing?"

"It's nothing." The response is too dismissive even to your own ears as you can't conjure up an excuse for the sudden pretense, or for your outlandish behavior.

It would be quite a long bus ride, sitting next to each other, both not knowing what to say.

The space between Jun-Hee's eyebrows crease together in confusion, but he doesn't push the matter further.

You clear your throat awkwardly, shifting in your seat to sit on your hands. When did simply talking to him become so hard to do? You've hidden your feelings for years without problem, so why was it so different now? Those feelings changed and grew. "When did you come to sit here? Weren't you just sleeping earlier?"

Jun-Hee knocks his shoulder into yours, a teasing lilt to his voice. "You were watching me?"

"Pft, as if," You deny with lackluster confidence, scoffing. "I was just observing what everyone was doing."

"Right..." He elongates the word. "...And what I was doing was sleeping. That you watched." Jun-Hee looks at you again, a deadpan but knowing look on his face. Flustered, you duck your head only for him to mirror the movement, subtly leaning his own toward yours and trying to catch your eye. It ends up with him chortling as your forehead nearly collides with your knees in the slouched over position you had subjected yourself to.

Knowing full well you were being made fun of without a hint of malice, you twist your body sideways and lean your back against the window, turning to him with a glare. "Is this fun to you?"

As he laughs, you find yourself wanting to follow suit, but stick to the bit of maintaining your mock angry façade, slapping him on the arm. If anything, he continues to chuckle, barely flinching, finding your reaction rather amusing.

"Don't worry. I promise I didn't sneak any pictures." It quickly registers to you that he was clearly teasing So-Mi for earlier. You can't help the scandalized look on your face, cheeks puffing out as you try to hold in your laugh. "I guess you did notice a camera being pressed up to your face, huh?"

"Kind of hard not to with all the noise." He shakes his head in annoyance. "But I am still sleepy." Jun-Hee pulls your arm so that you're pressed against his side again, no semblance of space remaining between the two of you as he lowers himself, sinking further down into the seat, eyes shut and head now leaning against your shoulder.

"Jun-Hee..."

"Let me borrow your shoulder for a little while."

You're about to pull away, thinking he's playing around when his grip tightens on your arm.

"Think of it as returning the favor from earlier. We can call it even."

Making a vague sound of neutrality but not moving, you relax, and Jun-Hee lessens his hold, adjusting his position to be more comfortable. "Are you going to watch this time too?" His hand squeezes your forearm once.

"Dream on," you kid.

"Maybe I will," he answers with certainty. "Until it becomes reality."

"I didn't know you were this affectionate with everyone."

"Not just anyone. Only you," Jun-Hee mumbles, tilting his head further into the crook of your neck. His lips move dangerously close to the juncture of your shoulder, your pulse point centimeters away as he shifts around, finding the most relaxing spot to rest.

"Don't say things you don't mean." You can't bite your tongue fast enough as the words tumble out unprompted. That was supposed to be an inside thought no one else should be privy to but yourself.

"Who says I don't mean it?" You tense up beside him, at a loss for words, but Jun-Hee doesn't point it out, more than not nice enough to ignore it for your sake. "I'm self-proclaimed as your favorite." He bumps his knee against yours. "I know you better than anyone else."

"Do you, though?"

"...Of course, I do."

But you don't know that I'm already halfway in love with you.

"On what basis, mister?"

"Best friend privileges."

"Right..."

You stare down at the top of his head, Jun-Hee unaware of your blatant staring and the way your smile fades at the same time one appears on his face.

"That's acceptable, no?"

"Of course, it is. Best friends. That's what we are..." You trail off.

And I guess that's all we'll ever be.

Hours later, the sky has since darkened and you can see the visible outline of the full moon on high, light not concealed by the stars weakly glimmering to illuminate the night.

Most, if not the entirety, of the students on the bus were asleep, except for you and your two lovable, but mischievous best friends sitting in front of you.

Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won peer over the back of their seats like cute meerkats, only their eyes visible, phones raised suspiciously in your direction.

"You're welcome in advance," Yoon-Seo says cheekily, showing the widest grin you've ever seen on her, eyes crinkling as Jung-Won stifles her laugh behind her hand. At your persistent eye signals, they sink back down into their seats, satisfied after overfilling their camera rolls.

As the bus slows down, indicating that your class was nearing your destination, the road gradually begins to get rougher and bumpier. It's a surprise Jun-Hee still hasn't woken up yet, sleeping soundly away still leaning on you.

Deciding to mess around with him, you slightly pivot your body so it's facing him, leaving enough room for his head to not fall off your shoulder.

"Jun-Hee," you call, tilting your head down in front of his.

"Jun-Hee ah." The bus is rocking him, lolling his head forward along with the movement, his face nearly downturned.

"Wake up, sleepyhead." Your shoulder is no longer acting as support when you turn your face directly below his and peer up, tilting your head like he had done to you miles back, smiling at his obliviousness to the harmless prank, peacefully undisturbed in his slumber.

"Kim Jun—" The bus lurches abruptly, running over a speed bump the driver misses, and your words die in your throat as it jostles Jun-Hee's body forward and consequently his head toward your own, his lips meeting yours. The next slope in the road, and the fleeting press of the accidental kiss fades away, but the butterflies in your stomach refuse to settle.

You're motionless, eyes wide, hands immediately coming up to touch your lips where they're still tingling from the lingering imprint of Jun-Hee's lips against your own, barely registering just how close his face is to yours still, remaining asleep all the same.

"Kids, we're here!"

Your teacher's announcement snaps you out of your thoughts and you hurriedly sit back as Jun-Hee's eyelids sluggishly part, the first thing they focus on is you. He grins drowsily, and you wonder what can truly fix the irreparable damage to your heart.

Get a grip, Han Seol-Hwa.

Forcing a smile that you hope isn't as awkward as it feels onto your face, you decidedly withhold the truth about the incident.

"That was the best sleep I've had in a while," Jun-Hee tells you, leaning closer to be heard over the ruckus of everyone moving around in their seats, wanting to alight the bus the moment it stops.

You scoot back reflexively with your face aflame, still not over what had happened.

Jun-Hee also pulls away, worry mixed with bewilderment evident on his face. "Are you alright?"

"What do you mean?" You cringe internally at how guilty the tone of your voice comes out.

"It's just..." Jun-Hee regards you for a moment, studying your face as you avoid his searching eyes. "You've been acting a little weird since this morning."

"I'm tired is all," you lie through your teeth.

"If I—"

Suddenly So-Mi appears next to the two of you in the aisle, eyeing you up and down judgingly. "Jun-Hee, the teacher said he wants to talk to us."

As Jun-Hee gets up but doesn't reply, you swiftly scoot out of your own seat and attempt to scurry away to where Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won are waiting for you by the wheel, wanting to avoid the dreaded conversation you knew was sure to follow.

So-Mi dismisses your presence completely, standing into the empty space between the rows in an effort to block Jun-Hee off.

His eyes count your steps and before you can move even a feet away, he grabs ahold of you, fingers wrapping securely but tenderly around your wrist. Your pulse quickens beneath your skin, and you wonder if he can feel how rapidly it bounds under his touch.

"Seol-Hwa—"

Jun-Hee appears a bit dejected for some reason you'd rather not dwell upon. You gaze down at his grasp on you before turning to face him.

"Didn't you hear me?" So-Mi interjects, trying to make him focus on her by stepping into his line of vision, but his eyes remain fixed only on you. "Seonsaengnim needs both of us for something."

Your fingers graze Jun-Hee's as you slowly remove his hand, much to his reluctance. To the bitter distaste of So-Mi, he doesn't seem like he'll go along with her any time soon. She directs her glare at you once more, and you sigh quietly, not wanting to be in the middle of this interaction one bit.

"I'll see you later Jun-Hee."

"Wait—" He tries to grab your hand again, but So-Mi is quick to turn his shoulder away, making up filler dialogue.

Given the slip unintentionally, you speed walk toward your friends, and the three of you descend the steps. You feel Jun-Hee's stare burn through the back of your head yet refuse to turn around.

Maybe if you leave everything that happened on the bus and the thoughts along with it, you'll go back to being yourself soon enough.

The teacher is pacing the edge of the curb looking perturbed, voice frustrated as he speaks into the phone, the person on the other end not comprehending a single word.

Before you can tune into what he's saying, Yoon-Seo taps you on the forearm, whispering, "Have we been here? Why do I feel like I have? It's so familiar..."

"All the youth centers look the same," Jung-Won settles, rummaging through her backpack. "Yoon-Seo, Seol-Hwa, I'm heading in first. See you inside."

You wave to her as Yoon-Seo stands beside you, unmoving and gazing up at the third-floor window of the building.

"Yoon-Seo...?" You move your hand back and forth in front of her face, and she finally blinks, her gaze returning to normal.

"What is it?" she responds absentmindedly.

"That's what I should be asking you." You halt at the blank expression on her face staring back at you.

"I thought I saw something..." She points at the window but when you look, squinting against the dark to focus your eyes, all you can see is the white curtains billowing back and forth from the window barely cracked open.

"It's only the wind. Your mind is probably playing tricks on you." Yoon-Seo seems assured by your answer for the time being, nodding. You rap on her head lightly with a loose fist, mock admonishing. "Aigoo, Miss Detective. The books are taking over your imagination."

Yoon-Seo laughs and shoves you playfully. "Don't act like you don't also live and breathe all things horror."

"But I'm not the one seeing things, am I?" Raising your eyebrows at her teasingly, Yoon-Seo simply rolls her eyes and links her arm with yours.

"Come on, let's go. It's cold out here, and I want to see the rest of this place."

The two of you enter the lobby, and the first thing you take note of is the pure white marble statue of a girl, sitting atop a pillar and staring down into nothingness, eyes soulless and devoid of emotion. It’s melancholic in a way, a personified goddess, yet alone and ostensibly powerless.

"Yoon-Seo, don't you think those eyes remind you of anyone?" You fix your gaze on the figurine closely, examining the features etched haphazardly into the rock. Whatever intention the sculptor had, you couldn't find the purpose for the seemingly out of place decor.

Yoon-Seo nudges you. "Now who's the one with the wild imagination?"

"I'm being serious here."

"I don't see any resemblance to anyone we could possibly know. There's no informative plaque on who it may be either."

You shrug. "Maybe it's just me then."

"Aren't you two going to scan?" Jung-Won ushers you and Yoon-Seo toward the flyer:

[ sᴄᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ǫʀ ᴄᴏᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪ-ғɪ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴsᴛᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴄᴇɴᴛᴇʀ ᴀᴘᴘ ᴀᴜᴛᴏᴍᴀᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ]

"This place has an app? What for?" you question.

"Hmm, I'll just stick to this paper booklet they have instead." Yoon-Seo decides quickly, rifling through the readily available printed maps.

"You'll have to lead me around," you say in all earnestness. "I'm very direction disoriented."

Jung-Won doesn't even try to hide her smile. "We can tell."

"It's not my fault I was born like this." You dramatically fall back onto Yoon-Seo. "Would you two really lead me astray as my best friends?"

Yoon-Seo giggles behind you. "No way. We saw how dazed you were getting off the bus earlier. You need all the help you can get."

Jung-Won snickers, shaking her head while dragging you and Yoon-Seo through the double doors of the gymnasium where the rest were gathered.

Everyone is off scattered into their own respective friend groups, your trio throwing your backpacks haphazardly on the floor before sitting against the wall of bleachers yet to be pulled out.

Jun-Hee and So-Mi enter shortly after with the teacher, engaged in a discussion. You look away before they can notice, and focus on the girls attempting to practice for their performance instead, Woo-Ram filming their efforts. Joo-Young pushes Mi-Na out of her spotlight and steals it openly, not that Woo-Ram minded. If anything, he holds the camera ever-sturdier, a newfound excitement apparent this time around as he zooms into her face. His happiness is short-lived however, as Kyung-Joon turns off the speakers nonchalantly, forcing the girls to start over from the beginning, much to their irritation.

Despite what you decided on earlier, you can't help but throw glances over in Jun-Hee's direction. He's seated at the table reserved for school council members by the entryway, overlooking everyone as So-Mi talks his ear off, undeterred by his indifference.

"Stop staring. You're going to wear away his pretty face," Yoon-Seo jokes from your left.

"I wasn't staring," you reply back half-committally, knowing she's caught you in the act.

"You totally were," Jung-Won joins in, slowly leaning her head on your right shoulder. "Let me borrow your shoulder while I code."

"If she's allowed, I should be too," Yoon-Seo copies, mirroring Jung-Won from your left side.

"Careful, that one's Jun-Hee's. You'll have to wait your turn, Yoon-Seo."

"Oh my god," you groan, embarrassed, hiding your face into your hands as the two laugh beside you, kicking your feet from both sides with theirs. "You two are merciless."

"Are you going to deprive me of the best sleep I'll ever have?" Yoon-Seo snuggles closer, hugging you tightly to her.

"Yah! Lee Yoon-Seo!"

You had the intention of taking Jun-Hee off your mind by hanging out with your friends, only for you to see bits of his personality in Yoon-Seo, their long-time friendship having had them taking on one another's mannerisms.

"I'm using my best friend privileges." Jung-Won pats you on the knee. "Stay still."

As Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won squish into you from both sides, you can't help but giggle at the sheer absurdity of the reenactment and their dedication to coming up with jokes on the fly. You try to fight back the onslaught of laughter, but it's entirely pointless in their presence. Traitorously, your eyes crinkle in mirth, half-crescents resting atop your cheeks as your laugh tinkles in the shared space, making the other two giggle along, shaking with glee where they're pressed against you.

Jung-Won eventually caves and sits up properly when all the hooting you and Yoon-Seo are doing keeps rattling her laptop, messing up her coding. A permanent smile sits on her face though, watching you two bicker.

"Jung-Won, help, I need my inhaler. I can't breathe from laughing so much," Yoon-Seo gasps out, holding her stomach.

"I'm not getting it for you."

"I can't believe you would tease me at the expense of your asthma." You push Yeon-Seo away, sniggering as she goes back to clinging onto your arm and laying her head back on your shoulder.

Jung-Won turns to look at you and Yoon-Seo briefly, her eyes shifting to the side momentarily, a ghost of a smile settling on her lips before she resumes attention to her laptop. "Don't look but Jun-Hee is watching."

Right as she says that, you make to move your head, but Yoon-Seo expects it and holds your chin in place with her hand, pinching your cheeks playfully.

"I said don't look!" Jung-Won chuckles.

It throws Yoon-Seo into another fit of giggles as you try to speak through your puckered lips. She releases her hand quickly after, and you drop your head to lean on the crown of hers, giving up.

You elbow Jung-Won in her side. "Were you messing with me?"

"Why would I?" she says innocently, typing away.

You look at her pointedly. "Yeah, you totally wouldn't."

Jung-Won holds her hands up in a motion of surrender. "I'm not this time, really. Seeing So-Mi angry is my favorite past-time."

"So mean," Yoon-Seo sing-songs.

"And you had no part in this?" You poke Yoon-Seo in the cheek. "Who told you to have an annoyingly cute and kind best friend?"

"You mean you?"

"You know what I mean."

"It's true."

"Guess I'll have a crush on you instead."

Yoon-Seo chortles with laughter. "So, you do admit you like him!"

"I didn't say that!"

"I read between the lines."

“It was one line!”

"This really sucks," Jung-Won says off-handedly, scrolling through the app. "I can make something like this in a day."

"Huh?" Yoon-Seo inquires, lost.

"You really didn't scan the QR code earlier? It was installed automatically. Give me your phone. I'll do it for you."

"No, it's okay. I'll get by. It's a short trip."

"I wouldn't put it past Yoon Seo to carry around the paper map for two whole days," you jest.

"Careful, you can't even navigate well, Seol-Hwa."

Jung-Won snorts at Yoon-Seo's jab.

"You got me there. If you tell me to walk back the way we came from I'd probably end up walking in the opposite direction."

Yoon-Seo shakes her head in fond disbelief.

"I'm not getting any signals in here." Jung-Won holds her phone up high, arm stretching.

While you watch as Jung-Won moves her device around to figure out the cause of the lost signal and no connection to Wi-Fi, Yool rushes past, making a mad run for the storage room. Adjacent to the bleachers where you and your friends were sitting, he flings the door open with purpose and digs through the contents of the room. Various apparatus gets upended from their designated places, the speed and sheer amount of hiking gear, equipment for ball sports, as well as other items meant for the gymnasium flying out from the doorway is nothing short of the effects in a comedic cartoon. Knowing how much of a jokester Yool was, you pay it no mind and turn back to the task at hand.

You pull out your own phone to try and locate even one bar of cell phone service, only to be met with the message that the vicinity was an unserviceable area. "That's weird. We're not in a remote place or anything like that. What happens if the power goes out, then?"

Right as you say that, static from the speakers produces head-splitting screeches, causing everyone to recoil with palms over their ears in annoyance, the lights flashing once before cutting out.

With everyone fearing the worst, a few remain unmoving while screams of the rest bounce off the walls, echoing in the spacious room. You and Yoon-Seo however, have no reaction, more curious than anything else.

"Why did you turn the lights off?" Someone you can't put a name to probes in the dark. "Turn them back on!"

Following in haste after one another, the students make good use of their phone flashlights, aiming it at the court's center, revealing a figure cloaked in white standing as clear as day amidst the obscurity of the room.

While the majority cower in fear, clutching onto their friends, Hyun-Ho imperturbably throws a basketball at the unknown prowler, knocking them over in one go.

"Ouch!"

The white sheet is flung off theatrically, and out crawls a disheveled but cackling Yool.

"Aish, seriously," Hyun-Ho admonishes. "Quit goofing around."

Kicking the blanket to the side away from his feet, Yool raises his hands up in the air dramatically, acting to the end. Not a single person has managed to find the overhead lights in the meantime, the only ones illuminating the outline of his thin frame were the stage bulbs operating on a different circuit.

"While I have your attention, you guys have to listen up," he begins conspiratorially. "I heard a harrowing tale that's been passed down to everyone who steps foot into this building." Yool looks from one classmate to the next, more serious than he's ever been. "They say a female high school student took her own life here." He continues on as gasps and murmurs spring up around you. "There are things you absolutely can't do." He waggles his pointer finger dramatically for emphasis. "Don't look back after glancing in the mirror past midnight, and ignore it even if someone were to grab your ankle while you are asleep. If you don't follow these rules..." Yool pauses for staged effect before walking in broken steps like he’s possessed, arms and legs bent in odd angles, rushing straight toward the dancers still seated on the floor.

"...YOU'LL SEE A GHOST!"

Shrieks pierce the room as someone manages to flip the lights on again with perfect timing, ending Yool's one-man show.

Jung-Won clucks her tongue while you and Yoon-Seo look at one another. You were expecting her to be as nonchalant as you were, all her readings considered, but she's staring straight ahead, spooked.

"Earth to Yoon-Seo?" You touch her hand and she flinches, causing you to jump as well from her unexpected reaction.

"Huh?" She whips her head toward you, still zoned out. "Sorry." A forced smile settles on her face, an infrequent sight to her usual bright demeanor. "Don't worry, it just felt like deja vu for a minute."

"You said something similar earlier. Are you sure you're doing okay?" Your voiced is laced with worry.

"See, this is why I told you two to tone it down with the heebie-jeebies. You're only scaring yourselves." Jung-Won pats your head and then Yoon-Seo's in turn. "We should go to our rooms anyway. They all have too much energy they can't wait to waste away," Jung-Won states, gesturing to everyone milling about.

"Let's go?" You pull Yoon-Seo up, and she nods in return, reassuring you that she was finally present and not off and away in her thoughts.

As the three of you leave, your ears perk up at the last thing you hear Yool say.

"Did you guys really believe it?" His sentence is cut by a boisterous laugh, pleased to no end at the affirmative from his friends. "Eyy, come on now, it was just an innocent and fake joke. None of us are going to die. Not tonight and not for a long time to come."

SYNOPSIS | 02 : THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

© 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨, 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

[waywardstation]

Happy WIP Wednesday Thursday!

Most recent poll voted for fluff, so here is a comparably fluffy segment from one of my WIPs!

Phione Akari AU for this one!

Enjoy; wording is apt to change!

————

Though, maybe she wasn’t writing out a location, but a message?

With the limited mobility of her flippers, and the size of the pen in comparison to her, the work was rather messy and slow going. Ingo resigned himself back to his rice and potato mochi as she continued – both would have normally been considered disappointingly cold by now, but if Ingo was honest with himself, it was still leagues better than anything either of them had eaten in days, out in the wild.

When she was done, Akari dropped the pen with a slick splat and leaned to the side, glaring up at him expectantly as she pointed with her flipper.

Ingo’s hypothesis had been right – on the page, in big, boldly-scrawled writing, it read:

TAKE A BREAK!!!

Three explanation marks. She was serious.

Stalling on the words, Ingo mulled them over for a moment. “Miss Akari, I can assure you that I am alright, and will be even better tomorrow. Our departure is already scheduled, and I intend to keep with it.”

No squeaking, no shaking of her head, and no upset glare, like he half-expected – Akari simply turned back around and continued the taxing effort of scrawling words across the page. When she had once again finished, she jabbed her flipper at the words with surprising vigor, then repeated the agitated movements at him.

NO TRIP TOMORROW. NEED REST

It surprised him a little, how adamant she was about this when her actual body was at stake. But it was clear she just wanted him to regain some lost energy, instead of trying to expunge even more from a tank that was already empty.

And perhaps she was right in wanting this. He had just spent five days out in the wild. Could he really put himself through something like that again? His will said yes, of course he could. But it was paying no mind to the aching in his muscles, already groaning at the thought of going back out there.

And honestly, what could he do like this? A sore throat. A headache born of sleep deprivation. A deep aching that one night’s rest realistically wouldn’t pacify. Maybe if he had managed his cab a little better out there… but that was nothing more than a hypothetical now.

“Alright. I will… rest my engines.” Breaking up the sentence with a sigh, Ingo finally relented. He leaned forward against one aching arm as he gently massaged tired, darkened eyes with the other. He was in need of some decent sleep. “I do suppose the service is sorely needed. We will stay here tomorrow.”

Celebratory squeaking started up. A cold, wet flipper was felt against his wrist, bapping it animatedly – the only way she could really say thank you in this state. Despite his display of exhaustion, Ingo let out a quiet sound of amusement.

“Just for a day,” He reiterated. “And I still intend to be productive in my search efforts tomorrow. Perhaps just within Professor Laventon’s numerous books this time, rather than the coastlands’ beaches.”

[mysdrymmumbles]

The Hope in a Hug

So a while ago, @citrusbunnies mentioned that they wanted to see something about Karlach being able to touch people after forever, and I dunno if I quite hit what they were aiming for, but I thought I'd try my hand at it.

Happy New Year!

---

For ten years, Karlach has suffered in the Hells, betrayed and sold by a man she trusted completely, a man she looked up to. When she finally found her chance to escape, she was so sure that things would be better.

And to a degree, they are. She is no longer trapped in the endless, pointless Blood War. She is free from her mistress, free to make her own choices, to live her own life.

At least, that’s what she repeats in her head and as she goes to sleep—alone—every night.

It is autumn when Karlach returns to the material plane, and those first few days that she is back are utterly glorious. To see the world in its full array of colors, leaves changing, the sky a cold blue, to catch sight of the occasional woodland creature flitting into the woods, to see frogs at streams of cold, clear water…

It is a balm on her tortured soul.

However, even though she has left the Hells, they have not left her.

She walks through the material plane now, but she is still so far removed from it that part of her wonders if she wouldn’t be better back in Avernus. It is a part she always quells quickly, but the question resurfaces again and again.

She knows the air is crisp, but cannot feel it through the flames that flicker in her veins and across her skin. The water is cold, but it steams when she dips her hands into it. Flowers wither and smoke at her touch. She doesn’t dare try to coax any of the animals to her.

And people…

Gods, but she wishes she could touch someone. 

She misses sex, of course, but what she wants more than anything, more than that, is just simple touch. She wants to brush a leaf off a friend’s shoulder without leaving a scar. She wants to hold their hand, tousle their hair, sling an arm around their shoulders without them yelping in pain. 

But if she touches anyone, she burns them.

Her new companions are sympathetic, mostly. They help her find an infernal blacksmith on the material plane—what luck—but even as they promise that they will keep searching for a cure, even as Dammon swears he will try to come up with a way to settle the fires in her engine, they hurt her.

It is unintentional, and she feels terrible for even thinking it, but the truth is it hurts to watch the rest of them. Hands on shoulders, elbows nudging, and—as it gets colder still—the others often find themselves huddling together at night, bodies pressed together for warmth.

Karlach wishes she could curl around them, with them. She wishes she could just feel them. 

Gods, but it really is like she’s still trapped in her own personal bubble of Avernus. 

She keeps her tone cheerful, tries not to think about it.

There are moments when the flames burn so hot in comparison to the world around her, that she thinks she might melt away. She dares to complain once, and her companion is quick to assure her it will be alright.

But it is so hard to believe that blind optimism.

It is the sort of hope that has fueled her for the last decade and now that she is here, now that she is so close to home, it feels like that hope has become too strained, like with the miracle she has managed, asking for more is too much.

Karlach presses on because that is all she can do. 

When they find Dammon again in the shadowcursed lands, he meets her with a wide grin and a handful of schematics he has been sketching. She almost cries when she realizes that he has not stopped thinking of her since they last parted ways. 

That never would have happened in the Hells.

More so is her disbelief when they hand him their hardwon infernal iron and he knows exactly what to craft. He makes the adjustments, she sets them into place.

And then there is a terrifying moment where she stands there, wondering.

Is it enough?

Has she finally regained what Zariel took from her?

The answer to that is that there are things that she will never get back, and she knows this, but in the moment when arms loop around her, tug her tight, she knows that at least a small piece of her has been returned.

Even an archdevil couldn’t take everything.

More arms encircle her, and soon she is standing in the middle of cluster of friendly embraces, held for the first time in a decade, by half a dozen people who love her.

Damn, it feels good.

There is nothing comparable.

In the coming days, when she finds herself still halting her hand before thwacking a friend’s arm only for them to playfully reach out and nudge her, when she finds arms looping with hers and heads resting on her shoulders at the campfire, none of it feels real.

As she lays in camp, with companions squabbling over who gets to cuddle up next to the best heat source in all of Faerun, she sometimes wonders if this is a dream. If she lets herself drift off to sleep, will she wake up surrounded by charred corpses? 

Will she wake up in Avernus?

Each morning that greets her with that pale cold that makes her breath puff in front of her lips strengthens her hopes, renews them. 

By the time they reach Baldur’s Gate, she does not hesitate when she reaches out to grab shoulders, does not stop herself when she tousles hair and laughs at the way her companions become so playfully disgruntled.

She can feel the strain of the engine inside of her. She knows that it will not last much longer.

But damn if these aren’t some of the best moments of her life.

It’s not fair that a few short months are all she gets after a decade of utter despair, but she tries not to think that far ahead.In the moment, in the now, if she needs a hug, she can reach out for one, and that is enough.

[labrxnth]

BoC Chapter 2: Distant Beaches (Leon x Reader Series)

In flower language, a cornflower means "Be careful with me, please, I'm delicate"

Tag List:

WC: 3261

CWs: some heinous forced father figure shit, human experimentation, PTSD, kidnapping, cannon level body horror, cannon level swearing and violence, body comparison.

AN: I chose to go with Leon's original backstory because fuck you. Also I'm in love with the idea of him being hungover during RE2. It makes everything so much worse lmao.

If you want to be on the tag list, comment and it'll be done.

Spotify Link: Listen along to the playlist I've curated for this fanfic

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

“So this is what you’re up to?” You asked, your eyes on the booklet in his hand. 

The dark, sinister hallway that had your stomach in knots wasn’t easy to look at. Walls covered in water staining and blood echoed like a chamber. The floors were covered in mystery liquid, one you weren’t gonna ask about. The notebook in Leon’s hand was easier to look at, the question was to get the uneasiness out of your head. 

“Yeah,” Leon answered, his eyes flickering between the book and forward, as if waiting for something to jump out at the two of you. The hallway was dimly lit from his flashlight, adding to his growing suspense. 

Looking at him, you could tell the signs of someone in denial and trying to juggle multiple things at once.

“Do you want me to keep track of the booklet?” You asked. You had been brought up to help people, engineered to do the exact same thing. Over the past 9 years, you were told how helpful you were, how good you were. 

“I can’t ask you to do that, you focus on that ankle,” Leon said and pocketed the notebook. You made sure to take note of where he put the small booklet. His right back pocket.

One question you had on your mind since venturing out from the room you met in was at the forefront, begging to be asked. 

“Is this what the world looks like now?” You asked, your eyes on the ceiling, seeing the different stains and wiring showing, sparking. You remembered the neon, the smell of hairspray, not this. 

“I guess. I don’t know what’s going on here, but my only guess is that it’s only here that’s affected. At least in Denver it’s not like this,” He replied. He stopped walking and shook his head a little bit, then continued to walk. “At least when I left, it wasn’t like this,” He added. 

Denver, you remembered that name. It was the capital of a state, unfortunately you couldn’t remember which one. Trying to remember social studies from 9 years ago was like trying to remember a piece of information so deep in your mind that it wouldn't budge. 

You were trying to figure out how to ask for more information without revealing too much, but the sound of your foot slipping caught your attention. 

Hands were suddenly on your arms, making you sturdy and upright again. Leon’s face was inches from yours as the flashlight illuminated a random wall from him grabbing you. 

“Careful, can’t have you spraining that other ankle,” He said, looking over you to make sure you were okay. 

You were miles away, the sudden touch, or rather grab, was all too familiar to you. Leon meant it in goodwill, but you were used to people jostling you around, moving you at their own will and want. In place of Leon, you saw David, his eyes leering down at you. 

“Be a good girl for me, Thirteen,” He said, a snarl on his face as a syringe was in his hand. He held you with one arm, forcing you to stay still as the large needle with your usual sleeping medication got closer to you. 

You had to get out, you had to break free, don’t let the needle touch you, get out from his grip, don’t touch me-

“Hey, you okay?” You were brought back to reality by another voice, one that was starting to be familiar. As you blinked, the white walls and floors melted back to the dark blue and hazy green atmosphere of the place you were in. 

Leon’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you with concern. His blue eyes searched you over, checking you for any sign of hurt. 

“Y-yeah,” You managed to say, your voice cracking. “Just startled is all…” Your heart sped up as adrenaline entered your body. Lying didn’t come easily to you, it never did. You were hoping that Leon didn’t catch the unevenness of your tone and how clammy your hands had gotten. 

He seemed to believe you, or at least think it would be too much to call you out on the lie. Leon nodded and let go of you, turning back to facing forward. “Watch your step, there’s blood and worse everywhere,” He said and continued walking. 

“...Blood?” You asked, finally looking down at what you had slipped on. Sure enough, painting the tiled floor was thick streams of crimson red. Your eyes widened as you saw the blood now on your bare feet. Vomit threatened to come up and you started slightly shaking. 

You weren’t used to seeing blood. Everything in the Umbrella lab was clean, you never saw blood there. 

Leon turned to look at you, as if sensing you stopping. The flashlight turned to you and he took in your expression. 

“We gotta keep moving, there’s a locker room up ahead, we can find you some better clothes and some shoes there,” He said.

“Why is there…” You said, trailing off. 

To Leon’s credit, he picked up on what was happening quickly. He walked back to you and held out a hand to you. 

Your eyes focused on his hand, then flicked up to his eyes, seeing compassion in them. 

“The quicker we move, the quicker we can get out of here,” He said softly. 

You nodded and reached out to his hand. You remembered something like this, this was normal, people held hands all the time. Flashes of memories of your parents, your friends, and you holding hands. Whether it was during a game, or leading you through something, it was normal. This was a normal thing.

Leon’s hand softly grabbed yours, lacing your fingers together. The familiarity of soft human contact, a touch not expecting anything in return was enough to bring you back. Before all of this. 

Looking up to Leon, he wasn’t Leon anymore. A middle aged man with black hair and blue eyes stood in front of you. He was two times your size, tall and wide. He smelled of the Ocean. His eyes looked at you lovingly and his smile had a chipped tooth from eating ice. 

Dad. My dad. 

“Come on sunshine, I got you,” He said and held your hand, walking you to a stall that was so much taller than you. 

The smell of high tide filled your nose and the squawk of seagulls could be heard all around you. Looking down, you saw the usual dark brown wooden planks that were waterlogged. You remembered this place. 

The beach. 

Your dad crouched down to your height and pointed at the stall, then the worker. “Tell the nice ice cream man what flavor you want,” He said, smiling at you. You could feel the hand patting your back, encouraging you to speak. 

This was what an actual father was supposed to be. This is what you had been ripped from, forced to forget. 

Your dad looked at you. “____, tell him. I know you can do it, honey,” He said softly. What was supposed to be your name was static, even your memories couldn’t remember your old identity. Who you were born to be. 

Suddenly, his expression changed and he stood back up. “_____, I have to take care of something. I’m gonna leave you alone for a bit, but I’ll be back,” He said. 

“Joan, I’m gonna leave you alone for a bit, but I’ll be back,” Leon said, his voice bringing you back to your present again. That’s twice today, that was a new record. 

You were so used to surviving in Umbrella that you didn't have the luxury of memories. That, and the memory serum they pumped in you did its job in suppressing them. 

“Okay,” You said and nodded, barely processing what he said. The two of you were in a small outlet of a hallway, Leon looking around the corner. Your hands were still entangled in each other, the warmth spreading up your arm. 

“Give me two minutes and I’ll be back,” He said, looking back at you. 

“What if you’re not?” You asked nervously. Having a backup was something you had learned to have over the many years of failing escape. 

“I’ll be back, I’m not leaving you alone in here,” Leon said, getting a little closer to you. “Don’t worry, I’ve fought these things before, I know how to kill them,” He added. 

Your eyes widened at his words. 

Things…. 

Kill? 

“What?” You asked, your mind reeling trying to figure out what he meant. 

Leon looked at you, confused for a second, then he realized something. “You have no clue about the outbreak,” He said. It wasn’t a question, he was telling you. Stating it. 

“Outbreak?” You said. You remembered David’s words from when you left the facility, "Birkin messed with something." You had a sense that whatever was going on, this Birkin was responsible. 

Leon looked at the floor, trying to figure out how to explain it. “So, we’re currently in the middle of a zombie outbreak. I don’t know why and I don’t know what causes it, but the dead aren’t actually dead,” He said, looking at you. His eyes looked at you like he expected you to freak out. 

“O…kay?” You said, not really getting as hung up on it as Leon expected you to. For the past nine years you were surrounded by scientists who fucked around with human biology, you weren’t really surprised that the dead could come back to life. 

“You’re taking this way better than I guessed you would,” Leon said. He let go of your hand to cross his arms. His eyes looked at you, a hint of untrust in them. 

“I grew up around biologists,” You offered as an explanation. He took it as the truth, out of convenience. 

“When we make it out of here, I’m never touching another bottle of alcohol ever again,” He grumbled and checked the gun he was holding. “Two minutes,” He said and nodded to you. 

You nodded in agreement and watched him go around the corner. After a few seconds, you heard gunshots and a yelp, then bodies hitting the floor. 

Soon enough, the ashy blonde hair of your new companion came around the corner and he looked at you. “It’s clear,” He said. 

You nodded and went to walk, but instead his hand reached out to you again. As if missing the feeling of the warmth between the two of you, you took it almost immediately. 

“Hold on,” Leon said, not moving. He got closer to you and his eyes met you. As he got closer, you could see the blood spurts on his face, making you flinch a bit. 

“I need you to close your eyes, okay?” He asked. 

“Uh okay,” You said quietly and squeezed your eyes shut. For some reason, you knew you could trust him. Maybe he was the only person you thought you could trust. That idea scared you, the idea of trust was one you weren’t used to anymore. 

Leon guided you through the hallway, lightly pulling your hand forward. Looking back, he noticed how awkward and slowly you moved through the hallway even with his guidance. He walked back to you and went to put his other arm around your back. 

“Is it okay if I help you?” He asked gently. You nodded in reply and felt his hand on your higher back. Instead of the dread you assumed the touch would bring, it brought peace and assurance. 

After a few minutes of walking, you heard a door open after the warmth of Leon’s hand disappeared. Then, you walked through a doorway onto a different feeling floor. 

“You can open your eyes,” Leon said. 

You opened your eyes to the sight of a dimly lit locker room. You watched Leon put something into a terminal and he pressed a few buttons, running to get a newly opened locker. 

“There are uniforms and shoes in that locker, if they fit it’ll make this easier,” He sighed as he sat down and held his head with his hands. 

If Leon had been fighting all day long, it was no wonder he was tired. Anyone would keel over at this point. 

“I picked the worst day to come in,” He grumbled. 

As your hands found the locker Leon was talking about, you noticed what he said. “So you weren’t here when this started?” You asked, wanting to gain more information about what happened, or really what Leon knew. 

“No,” He admitted as he put pouches on his hips. The pouches had the letters R.P.D. written on them.

You found a uniform that looked like it was the closest to your size and took it out of the locker. Holding it up to your body, the navy blue fabric was still too big for your frame. 

It was a size women’s small.

You knew that David and Umbrella kept you malnourished so you were more agreeable and less energetic, but holding the fabric up to your body made you see how small your frame was. It was scary. 

Getting your mind off of comparing yourself to the clothes, you decided to press Leon more. “When did you get here?” You asked. 

“Today. I thought that yesterday was one of the worst days of my life so I decided to come in today. But this is… much worse than what was going on with me,” He sighed and tightened the straps on his pouches and holsters. 

You were quiet, not really knowing if you should press into someone’s personal life. 

“I guess I should tell you, seeing as though I’m now responsible for your safety as well…” He said under his breath. “I had a pretty awful day yesterday, so I’m not the most sober person right now,” He admitted. 

You blankly stared at him, not knowing what he meant. 

“Uh….” He said sheepishly and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m a little hungover right now, but don’t worry, I’ll still get us through this,” He said. 

That…still didn’t clear up what he meant. It was almost like he was speaking a foreign language from your reaction. You just stared blankly at him still. 

Moving onto other matters, you started taking off your scrubs, finally being free of the grubby, smokey fabric. As you did, you heard a yelp come from Leon. 

“Jesus! Let me know next time you do that,” He said, turning to face the wall. You could see the back of his neck and the tips of his ears were pink. 

You went about your business and finished changing. The women’s uniform came with a tanktop, the button up shirt, the pants, and the shoes. 

“A-are you done?” Leon asked, his voice slightly crackling and the pink turning deeper with the voice crack. 

“I think…” You said and looked down. You looked like a toddler trying on their parent’s work clothes. The way the fabric hung loosely would only make you slower, a liability. 

“Here,” Leon said and walked up to you. He crouched down to do something, then looked up at you. “Can I help you with this?” He asked. You nodded and his eyes looked over the uniform. 

He noticed that you had a tanktop on underneath so he got to work undoing the buttons of the shirt. “So, I told you how I got here, how’d you get here?” He asked 

You tried to think of a way to explain your situation. Even if you told the truth, would he believe you? He’d either ignore it, deny it was the truth, or worse turn you in. 

After all, you were property technically. And the longer you were gone, the longer you were technically “stolen”.

Your eyes flicked to the side and you decided to make up a story. “I was at the hospital… I had been for a while,” You said. It wasn’t too far from the truth. 

“Oh,” Leon said softly, his eyes meeting yours. They carried a sympathy that stabbed your heart for lying about being ill. 

“They were transporting me,” You said, looking at the floor. 

“And the helicopter was the one that crashed,” He said, recalling that you told him you were in the helicopter that crashed. 

“Yeah,” 

“Here, hold onto me so I can tie this easier,” He said. You hesitantly wrapped your arms around his neck, loosely, and he got to working on the clothes again. 

Leon had finished making adjustments to your uniform. He took the long sleeves on the button up and used them to tie the shirt around your waist. The pant legs were tucked into your socks and the bandages from your sprained ankle. 

“I’m no seamstress, but I did what I could,” He said. You removed your arms and offered a light smile in thanks. 

“Thanks, these feel better than what I was in,” You said. The feel of a different fabric than the same one you had been wearing for years felt odd. 

Not odd, just weird. 

“I thought as much,” He said. “I picked this up too, my girlfriend used to use them all the time. She would get upset if her hair got in the way of doing things,” He said and held up a hair elastic. 

You used hair elastics a lot, and luckily, this was the type that held your hair the strongest. 

“Thanks,” You said again and took it, putting your hair back and away from your face. This wasn’t the time to worry about looks, this was the time to worry about practicality. 

“Alright, now I feel better about bringing you along with me,” Leon said and smiled at you. “I won’t have to worry about you stepping on glass or anything,” He added. 

“Thank you,” You said again, your eyes meeting his. 

“Thank me when we get out of here,” He said and walked over to the door. “I’d give you a gun or a knife, but I don’t have anything to spare.” He looked at you sympathetically. 

“Don’t worry, I don’t even know how to use either one so it would be lost on me,” You reassured. 

His eyebrows furrowed a bit and he slightly tilted his head. “Really? Not even a knife?” He asked. 

You shook your head in reply. 

“Well then, I’ll just have to teach you when we get out of here. Or earlier if I have to,” He said and put his hand on the doorknob. “You still okay with following me around?” He asked. 

There was no doubt in your mind that Leon was the safest person you could be with right now. He knew where you were, at least more than you did, and he knew how to fight. It would stupid of you to say no. 

“Of course,” You said and nodded. “We’ll make it out of here together,” You added and lightly smiled. 

His concerned look slowly turned into a light smile and he nodded. “Yeah, we will. As long as we stay together, we’ll be okay,” He replied. 

Leon opened the door into the darkness, ready to get out of the locker room and plunge into the dark hallway. Ready to lead the two of you into whatever this hell would throw at him. He was more determined now, because he had someone that depended on him. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

Catch this fic and others on my AO3

[cerenemuxse]

Like Snowflakes in December

💗 December 1968

CW/TW: Swearing (like two words) and Injuries (no graphic details)

The story can be found at @eosr-by-muxse for easier access.

It’s been years since Edward last felt the sensation. He thought it wasn’t anything important. Perhaps it was this entire time.

Thank you @nightsinfoxx15 and anon for beta-reading for me!

~

One winter morning, Edward scuttled about in Wellsworth Yards. He was searching for the brake van that was usually there.

The engine questioned himself multiple times if someone had taken it, if he misplaced it, or if he simply overlooked it. No matter how many times he looked, though, it was nowhere to be found. Not even a spare could be found, and he was running late.

"Bother," he huffed. With no time to spare, Edward coupled up to his train of empty trucks and took them down to the very end of his branch line. All the way south was Brendam Docks. At the west end of the docks, going a bit up north, was a junction that led in two directions. One led engines back up north and the other led them to the Sodor China Clay Pits.

This was nothing out of the ordinary for Edward. It was his usual morning routine. Pick up any empty trucks at all the Main-Line stations and gather them in Wellsworth, ready to take the following morning. When morning arrived, he'd get a brake van and leave for the clay pits. That wasn't the case today, and it bothered him for a while—though not as much as what else was bothering him recently.

The concern was that the train of empty China clay trucks was usually very long, between twenty to thirty trucks. Today, he was pulling twenty-six. Even with the amount of experience the elderly engine had with trucks, Troublesome or not, it was still concerning. It was important to have a brake van for any sort of train, so he was taking a risk.

Though the absence of a brake van was concerning, the cannily familiar, daunting feeling he felt that had resurged within the past few weeks made that seem like nothing in comparison. Whenever it came, Edward became distracted, spacing out from the world around him. His pipes felt like they were being pulled on and thumping against one another like a heartbeat, building huge amounts of steam that he couldn't even force himself to make. Sudden waves of heat rushed to his face from his firebox.

This wasn't the first time this happened. It went away just as soon as it happened that first time, so he never said a word, brushing it off as something else.

Two months ago, that feeling came right back with full force, throwing the engine off. It was much more intense than the first time, which made him worry that something could genuinely be wrong.

When the odd feelings started, it was getting closer to the winter season, the season when he started to have problems with his parts. He knew his crew would already be on the lookout for any signs, in hopes of preventing a nasty piston accident. His mending back in 1952 had fixed it for a good while before it came back. Since then, it took much longer to happen, typically late December to early January. Ma crew already has somethin tae worry aboot, he thought, on the day he chose not to tell them as soon as possible. I can wait for it, he reasoned.

Now here he was, strolling down his branch line and barely noticing that he passed Brendam, the point where he should start paying attention and keep an eye out for the signals up ahead. There was a small junction entering Brendam Docks, which led to the loop in the area. He had to go straight ahead on the tracks heading south, not on the west tracks.

He should tell them.

No’ now thouch, he figured. Maybe later.

The trucks needed to be there on time, and he was running late already. Or at least he thought he was.

In reality, Edward was able to make up for time as he hadn't realized that he was going faster than normal. His crew had been tapping on his cab for a while, trying to get his attention, but he wouldn't respond to them.

Despite their engine's attempts to hide it, his crew was fully aware of Edward's recent odd behavior. It became more prominent when they entered December. His fireman, Alf, had assumed it had something to do with the expected chance of breaking down, but his driver, Rhett, knew it was something else. Edward had initially been weary about going out in the winter until he realized that the breakdowns would just happen inevitably, but that was years ago. The elderly blue tender engine had simply accepted it.

Tapping wasn't getting Edward's attention, so they started hollering, calling out his name. It worked, only to send them flying forward and into Edward's backhead as Edward pulled on his brakes, thinking something was wrong. The empty trucks bashed against each other and pushed towards him. Thankfully, these trucks weren't the Troublesome ones.

"Whit? Whit happenit?" Edward exclaimed. His warm brass eyes darted around, searching his surroundings.

Both men collected themselves. Rhett peeked out through Edward's cab windows. "Nothing's happened, old boy," reassured the Welsh man. "We just want to know what's going on with you."

"Yeah, you've been acting odd recently," added Alf slowly. "Is something on your mind?"

"Um…" I did say later. "I think," Edward began slowly. "I micht be havin’ some problems wit’ ma boiler."

"Think?" said Rhett as Alf peered out of the other cab window.

"Ma pipes. It feels like I'm forcin’ oot more steam than I can make."

Alf winced. He pulled away from the cab window and examined Edward's gauges and firebox. Not sure if what he was seeing was what he suspected, Alf tapped on Rhett's shoulder. Rhett looked at him swiftly as Alf pointed at their engine's gauges. Taking a glance, he noted that Edward's steam pressure was… fine. It wasn't abnormal. It hadn't been abnormal when Edward had been rushing down the line.

Edward could sense his crew looking at his gauges. "It's no' all the time. It happens oan and aff…"

"So it just happens?" asked Rhett with a concerned expression.

The old iron pondered for a moment. "Aye."

His crew looked at one another. They had two choices. The final choice was ultimately up to Edward.

"We can either go to the Steamworks or continue the day as normal," prompted Rhett. "What'll it be, old chap?"

Of course, Edward quickly responded.

"Continue the day as usual. The lads at the claypits need these trucks as soon as possible, and we've got a busy day o’ passenger and guids trains."

"Very well," said Rhett. He adjusted his hat and pulled off Edward's brakes to continue their journey to the clay pits.

…

The journey to and from the clay pits went rather smoothly. At no point did Edward's steam pressure rise to a concerning level. His driver hummed peacefully once they reached Wellsworth Junction, stopping since their signal was red. Molly swiftly passed by with her five honey-yellow coaches, the Honeypot as the train was called. The blue engine blew his whistle, greeting her. He got a response, and once she was out of the way and down the Main-Line his signal turned green. Releasing his brakes, Edward headed for Wellsworth Yards for a quick rest before the first passenger train.

Or at least he would've if he hadn't remembered something.

"Och, I've nearly forgotten!" he exclaimed. "Today's scrap collection, innit?"

"Yes, it- Whoa!"

The modified Larger Seagull suddenly jerked forward. His movement startled his crew, nearly knocking them off their feet. "I need tae get tae Tidmouth, quickly!"

Before Alf could speak, Rhett stopped him as he looked at Edward's steam pressure gauge. Once again, it was normal, though a bit higher to make up for his current speed. They were starting to doubt what Edward was supposedly experiencing, had anything to do with his boiler.

…

The first run of scrap collection, starting from Tidmouth and ending at Wellsworth, had gone rather smoothly. Much to Edward's relief, he finished a bit earlier, giving him enough time to get his snowplow fitted—having skipped it that morning—and collected his coaches.

As Edward pulled out of the yard, going east with the five branch line coaches, he quickly did a rundown of his day's work. Trucks huv been deliverit tae the clay pits and the first half o’ scrap collection is done, he thought as he lightly hummed a tune. Now all thon's left is the passenger runs up until midday, which is my break. After thon, I huv a few passenger runs, and then the train o’ China clay tae Vicarstown- Och! Maybe James will pass by this time-

"Edward, you've gone too far ahead!" exclaimed his driver.

As soon as Edward heard him, he snapped on his brakes, quickly shutting his eyes in the process. Again, his train bashed against him. Once his eyes opened, he was shocked as he found himself all the way near the level crossing, shortly before Wellsworth Junction.

"Sorry!" he quickly exclaimed, embarrassed as he backed down to the station.

Rhett patted his engine's cab. "It's alright, Edward. Just be a bit more careful."

"O' course!" Edward replied. "I will."

Once Edward reached the station, passengers quickly boarded the coaches. Rowdy schoolchildren climbed on board after saying their goodbyes to their parents. Teenagers and young adults either strayed behind to let the children on or rushed to get on board to beat the children, hoping to get a decent spot. Very few elders climbed on board, some with the assistance of the stationmaster and Edward's guard.

The elderly blue engine couldn't help but chuckle with a warm smile at the children's energy. He could feel the coaches jostle slightly as the children got rowdier. It would die down eventually, typically early on in the run, so he wasn't worried. His crew was, however, though not about the children. Rhett hadn't called out for Edward just because he was getting closer to the level crossing.

"Your steam pressure went too high there, old boy," said Rhett. "Your brakes wouldn't work either."

Immediately, Edward's warm smile faltered. "It did? I didnae feel it thon time." I wid've if I wisnae distractit, thouch, he scolded himself.

"You didn't?" That raised a bit of an alarm to the two men. "It went up fast, and the lever was stuck. You didn't feel me trying to pull it?"

"Naw, I didnae." How oot-o'-space did I go?

Rhett hummed. "We should call for another engine to take this train while we take you to the Steamworks."

Edward panicked. He didn't want to have another engine pull his train. Not at a time like this. It was the early winter, when passenger and goods services were heavy in preparation for the winter holidays, especially in the morning. Unfortunately, "like minds think alike" was the way to describe how busy it got. Traveling was typically planned for the morning so goods trains were pushed to the afternoon. This made it so that traffic wouldn't cluster up during the day, and Edward wasn't about to disrupt that.

"I can take this passenger train just fine," insisted Edward. "I took those trucks tae the clay pits wit’ naw issue."

Rhett and Alf looked at one another. Their engine wasn't wrong.

“Alright, we’ll give it another go,” Rhett relented. “But if anything is off, you need to let us know, alright?”

“Aye, Mr. Driver,” agreed Edward.

When the guard blew his whistle, Edward let out a bright whistle before departing the station.

…

The morning went by with no further issues. During the midday break, Edward’s crew checked him over. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. His pistons were fine, his side rods weren't loose, and his smokebox was clean. There was no blockage in the firebox from the look of things, so Edward was fine.

When they finished the afternoon passenger runs, before heading for the China clay, everything was normal. The Victorian engine went on with the day, humming about, as the worry about the problem slowly faded from his mind.

Humming a slow-paced, upbeat tune, Edward headed down his branch-line to pick up the trucks of China clay waiting for him at the dockyard. This particular train was heading to the Mainland, but would be dropped off at Vicarstown so Murdoch would take it from there. Once he arrived, Edward was promptly coupled up, leaving as soon as he had arrived.

The early December cold air stroked against his boiler, sending waves of chills throughout his frame. The steam spewing from his pistons, cylinders, and funnel wasn’t doing much for him.

Edward was switched onto the Main-Line and headed directly towards the goods tunnel cutting through Gordon’s Hill. With grace, he picked up speed, streamed through the tunnel, and came across Rebecca, who was hauling a long goods train on the other line. They pipped a quick “Hullo!” as she passed by. Edward greeted with a different warm smile, his eyes creasing together as his snowplow completely covered his mouth. Whistling in the tunnel was forbidden, due to concerns of triggering a possible collapse. The tunnel was stable enough to withstand the racket the engines made thundering through, but not enough if they added in the shrill of their whistles.

Once the ex-SR West Country passed, Edward didn’t find anyone else in the tunnel. He came out to clear tracks right as his signal turned green. Edward pushed through the junction, switched to the track right of him, decreasing his speed, and continuing down the Main-Line.

It took a while but eventually, Kildane came into view, and so did a certain scarlet tender engine, bringing a smile to Edward’s smile. As Edward passed the station he whistled brightly, and James reciprocated. The red engine’s signal changed and he was soon off, chasing after his blue friend.

“Edward! It’s been a while!” exclaimed James once his smokebox lined up with Edward’s, his buffer beam being ahead of Edward’s.

“It certainly has!” Edward agreed. “Whit’ve ye got this time?” he questioned, noticing the stone dust amongst the snow covering the bright red medium-sized tender engine.

“The complete Shen Valley package,” James replied smugly, to which Edward laughed, before huffing. “Though I’d like to know why people want so much stone at this time of the year. It’s cold outside! How do they build in these conditions?”

“People ur truly somethin’,” hummed Edward. “But then again, they work around us.”

“Touchè,” playfully pouted James. “How’s that tank engine on your line doing? Ryan, was it?”

“Aye. He’s been such a great help since BoCo wis put oan the Main-Line.”

“At least they’re not being a bitch about him anymore.”

“James!” Edward reprimanded, knowing very well who “they” were.

“You know it’s true!”

“Still, you should never speak like thon! Please dinnae tell me Jacqueline is learnin’ any o’ this.”

James gasped, faking offense. “Now, I would never teach my own daughter such things!” He dropped his voice to a low whisper. “Though I doubt she doesn’t know a few in French.”

“Dinnae get her tae teach ye.”

“No promises~!” James sang.

Edward rolled his eyes humourously.

The two continued their conversation, jumping around from subject to subject as they chuffed down the Main-Line. At one point, James said something humorous and Edward began to laugh. Years ago, the mogul Class 28 had come to learn that the Larger Seagull’s squawking wasn’t just restricted to being frightened out of his frame.

So he pressed on.

“James, patch aht!” huffed Edward, trying to control his laughter as it got worse and worse. He saw this coming the moment he started laughing. Oh, curse James’ good humor.

“Nu-uh!” teased James. “I’ll get that squawk out of ya, Seagull.”

That broke the dam.

“Sto-op!” squawked the flustered engine, continuing to laugh.

It felt so good to laugh. The warmth boiling within him was enough to overwhelm the feeling of his piston rod cracking.

…

Once Edward and James arrived at Vicarstown they both dropped off their goods trains, which were promptly shunted away by Rosie and Dennis, preparing it for Murdoch. Both tender engines left as soon as they had arrived, heading for Tidmouth Sheds as a day’s work came to an end.

They were having a peaceful conversation and were going up Gordon’s Hill with the winter sunset approaching when James started huffing heavily.

“James?” asked Edward worryingly. He took notice of James’ chubby cheeks starting to burn.

“Shit,” hissed James. “I’m low on water.”

The blue engine steamed off the profanity, focusing on the issue. “Maron is’nae too far. Wid ye like me tae shunt ye?” he offered.

“No, no! I’ll be fine,” reassured James as Maron came into view. “I’ll stop here. You go on ahead.”

Edward felt a bit on the edge. “I can wait wit’ ye.”

“How full is your water tank then?”

“Halfway, but-”

“I insist. Besides-” James chuffed a humourous huff. “I can catch up to you just fine. I am-!”

“Yon fastest red engine oan Sodor?” hummed Edward with a teasing smile. “I ken thon all too well, James.”

“As you should!” puffed up James. “Now, you go on your merry little way, and I’ll catch up to you. D’accord?”

“O’ course,” replied Edward with a giddy chuckle as warmth rushed to his freckled cheeks. James took no notice, as Edward’s snowplow covered a good part of the warm-brass-eyed engine’s face. Both engines pulled into Maron, with James switching lines to get to the water tower. Edward bid his temporary farewell and went on his merry way down the hill.

The bubbling and boiling grew gradually but Edward didn’t think much of it. How could he? It was warm and comforting, wrapping Edward in a loving, invisible embrace. An intoxicatingly, inviting feeling that the ex-Furness Railway engine reveled in more and more.

That feeling was snatched away when his driver started smacking his cab side. “Edward, slow down!” warned the English man. “Your steam pressure’s gone up again!”

“Do you hear that?” questioned Alf. “Do either of you hear that?”

Edward focused on the noise of the world around him. He heard it, and he felt it.

Loud groans and creaking could be heard from his chassis as a soreness started to spread from his cylinders. He felt the cracks on one of the piston rods, which had grown drastically.

With a loud CRACK!, the damaged piston rod broke off. He screamed in agony as the pain shot through him. Hot steam spewed furiously from his piston and cylinders. The rod dragged on the tracks, repeatedly hitting the sleepers before breaking off. Edward ran over it before he screeched to a halt, managing to avoid further damage to his chassis. Once Edward came to a complete stop, his crew immediately jumped out of his cab to inspect the damage.

The rod lay across the tracks, posing a danger to any other oncoming engine. The crew quickly resolved to grab the rod and throw it into Edward’s tender, letting it sink into the coal. Rhett rushed to the front, finding Edward in a state of despair. Tears of hot water mixed with coal dust streamed down his cheeks, staining his face and the edge of his snowplow. His sobbing, muffled by the snowplow, was interrupted with hiccups.

Gosh, it hurts, he thought as he cried. It hurts so much.

“We’ll call for help, Edward!” Rhett exclaimed frantically. “Just hold on!"

"I think I see an engine coming!" hollered Alf as he began to frantically wave down the approaching engine. "Stop! Stop!" he chanted.

The engine screeched to a halt on the track and behind Edward's tender, in time to not bump into Edward with his snowplow.

"Edward?" the engine called out, peering over from the right of the cerulean iron horse.

The thumping of Edward's boiler tubes and the rush of warmth to his freckled cheeks returned as the recognizable Cockney Londoner accent rang bells. “James!” Edward cried out immediately, frightening his driver, who had kneeled to inspect Edward’s chassis. Despite the intolerable pain that began to haze his smokebox, Edward noticed and quickly murmured an apology. His driver gently stroked the front edge of the matte black running board to comfort the hurting engine.

"He's broken a piston!" exclaimed his fireman to James and his crew. "Could you take us to the Steamworks?"

“Of course!” replied James with haste, beating his crew to a response. Engines interacting with other engine crews weren’t common, so Edward’s fireman was thrown off. With two huffs and a whistle, he backed away. “I’ll turn around at Maron! I’ll be back, Edward! I promise!”

Typically Edward would be fine with that, but with the pain becoming unbearable and hazing his thoughts, he didn’t want him to leave. Dinnae go, dinnae go! Come back! he thought as he sobbed harder, Please come back! Tears continued to trickle down his freckled cheeks as James quickly chuffed away.

…

As promised, James returned, and quite quickly at that. Regardless, it felt like an eternity to Edward as the pain continued. When James backed down on him, his thoughts were swimming. He couldn’t concentrate on his driver’s voice, who was trying to warn Edward that James would buffer up to him. So when James did just that, Edward let out a startled squawk, and the thumping of his boiler tubes increased. It felt like a smokebox ache within his boiler.

Was it a boiler ache? He wasn’t sure. He never had one before.

“Boiler…” he murmured to his driver, who perked up from watching James buffer up his tender to Edward’s. “Boiler ache.”

This seemed to have frightened his driver. He couldn’t tell too well as his eyes felt heavy, letting his eyelids droop. “A boiler ache?”

“I think…” replied Edward.

“What do you feel?”

“Tubes ur throbbin’…” Edward let out a heavy huff of steam, startling the others. “Like a smokebox ache.”

Worry crossed his driver’s face who quickly rushed to Edward’s cab, where his fireman was. Edward could barely hear the conversation.

“...boiler ache…?”

“...was flushed…throbbing.”

“...a boiler cleanout.”

James began to haul him. It was a gentle tug of his rear coupling, yet it was enough to startle Edward. “Does it hurt more?” he heard James holler.

“Naw!” he cried out. Edward continued huffing out sobs, and let his hiccups take over.

“We’ll get there, I promise! Just hold on!”

Edward would’ve if passing out hadn’t been so enticing, letting the haziness of the pain take over.

…

“...Edward? Edward!”

“Keep it down, James!” scolded another engine.

“Well, I’m sorry for worrying!” huffed the red engine.

“Again, I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.”

“Victor!” whined James.

The pain was gone, replaced by light soreness. Edward furrowed his eyebrows at the noise before gently cracking his eyes open with a soft hum. It was enough to get the other two engines’ attention.

“Edward!” exclaimed James, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Thank goodness!” rejoiced Victor. “You had us worried, Edward.”

“Worrit-? Och!” Edward perked up. “I-I’m sorry!”

“Sorry?” inquired James, with Victor eyeing him. “For what? Passing out? Worrying us?”

“Er- aye?” Edward replied, flustered as his freckled cheeks burned.

“Well, don’t,” huffed James. “It’s not your fault that you were in pain.”

The smaller engine hummed. He twitched his nose to wrinkle out the stiffness from wearing his snowplow, which was when he realized that it was gone. They must’ve taken it off, he thought, letting his vision wander. From the nearby windows, he noted that it was dark outside, no sunlight could be seen. “How lon’ wis I oot?”

“From when you got here, about an hour,” replied Victor. “We’ve gone in and taken off what was left from your broken piston. We don’t have any spare rods, so you’ll have to wait for the shipment to arrive.”

With a heavy huff, Edward spoke. “I should’ve jist come here in the first place,” he admitted. “I think somethin’ might be wron’ wit’ ma boiler, too.”

“Ah. About your boiler. There’s nothing wrong with it,” Victor noted. “We’ve checked multiple times while you were out, but we haven’t found anything wrong.”

“...Sae I’m fine?” Edward asked, not completely convinced.

“You’re fine,” Victor insisted, who slowly looked over at James. Edward followed his direction, confused.

“Fine, I’ll be leaving,” huffed James as he began to leave. “I just wanted to make sure he’s okay. There’s no harm in it.”

“We know, James. We know,” sighed Victor.

With another huff, James looked over to Edward. Again, a rush of warmth came over Edward’s frame. “Bye, Edward! Get well soon!” he exclaimed before letting out two cheerful whistles.

Edward couldn’t help but chuckle. “Bye, James!” he replied with a warm smile. James smiled back as he left, and Edward’s eyes followed.

Once James was gone Victor glanced over at Edward. “We need to talk about your boiler.”

“But I thoucht-”

“That was just to get James to leave,” interrupted Victor. “He’s been bothering everyone since he got here, and I don’t think that would do you any good if he stayed any longer.”

“He did whit? Why?” inquired Edward, confused.

“My friend, it's because James genuinely cares about you. He was frantic about you,” Victor replied, his words full of perplexity. “Are you two close friends? I don’t remember you both being on such healthy terms.”

“Aye, we huv. We’ve been since thon runaway incident a few years ago.”

“You mean back in nineteen-fifty-two?”

“Aye.”

“I don’t think sixteen years is ‘a few years,’ my friend.”

.

.

.

"Looks like the auld iron caught ye after all," teased Edward with a chuckle. With rope tied from one buffer to the other’s, the two engines gently strolled down the Main-Line. Edward expected James to retort back with something more teasing, an insult even, but no. James said something else.

"I'm sorry I said all those things about you, Edward," James replied. Lacking the ability to pop open his smokebox door, no thanks to his glasses, Edward couldn't see the other’s face well but with what little he could, Edward could see and hear the sincerity of his apology. "Thank you for saving me."

It took a bit for Edward to reply as he processed what James had just said. He apologized and thanked him.

That was new.

"It's alricht, James," Edward replied after a few odd seconds of silence as the pair continued down the line. "And ye're welcome."

"You were splendid, Edward."

A rush of heat flashed throughout Edward’s frame to his already-burning freckled cheeks, turning them pitch black as they journeyed to-

"Wait, where are we going?" asked James after a bit of silence.

"Och! Um-," Edward panicked. The little “old iron” wasn't used to being complimented by anyone, even from the Fat Controller. He was just an engine who did his work as told to, or when he knew it was right. So to say that James' words had flustered him would be a big understatement.

It's not that they were enemies or co-workers who hated one another. No, what happened between them was far from it. They were mostly friends. He and James had gotten along as years went by, facing a few ups and downs in their friendship, and they were able to get through just fine. He didn't expect much from the bright red medium-sized tender engine, though. Anything more than a simple "Thank you," really, which was the usual response he got that he was very content with.

But a compliment? Edward couldn't remember the last time an engine had said such a thing.

Realizing that he hadn't properly answered James, Edward shook himself, a shake light enough that it wouldn't jostle his crew around before he said anything. The rope holding them together shifted around. "Tae the next station!" he huffed out quickly. "Surely ye're low oan water."

James hummed, which only made Edward panic a little more. "My tank does feel rather light," James eventually replied. The exhaustion of going down the line without any stops could be heard in his voice.

"Then tae Kellsthorpe we go," replied Edward.

His response was soon followed by light conversation between the two, as both engines were exhausted, one running low on water and the other on the brink of falling apart. How James hadn't gotten into more trouble going down Gordon's Hill was beyond Edward's comprehension, which he expressed to the other. James expressed the same.

But then James asked, "You don't sound alright. Are you okay?"

And much to Edward's relief, they pulled into Kellsthorpe Station, or Kellsthorpe Road as the engines like to call it, where Sir Topham Hatt II was waiting for them.

.

.

.

“Sixteen?” gasped Edward. “Och my…” He gave his frame a shake. “Whit aboot ma boiler?”

“That’s the thing. It’s perfectly fine, Edward,” replied Victor, receiving a perplexed look from the warm-brass-eyed engine. “What concerns me most is what you felt. Your crew told me that you felt your tubes were throbbing and that your face was flushed.”

“Ma face wis flushit?”

“Was and still is,” indicated Victor as Kevin came over with a mirror. It was typically used when engines wished to see how they looked, either after a paint job or an accident. “Would you-?”

“Aye,” Edward interjected, growing worried. Kevin veered a quick “Hello” at Edward as he positioned the mirror next to him. Once Edward’s reflection came into view, he was a bit startled. His freckled cheeks were burning furiously and stained with streaks of dirty water. “Is ma fire still goin’?”

“No. It went out about a few minutes ago after we ran checks. Your boiler is still warm, however. I don’t mean to insinuate anything, but has this happened before?”

Edward grimaced as Kevin drove away with the mirror, being extremely cautious with it. “Um, aye, actually. When James and I were headin’ tae Kellsthrope Road, tae meet wit’ the Fat Controller oan the day o’ the runaway accident.”

“I don’t remember you mentioning it.”

“Thon’s because I never did,” the elderly blue engine admitted nervously. “It went away oan ma way here sae I figur’it wis nothin’. Thon, maybe, it wis jist the rush o chasin’ James. I huvnae had it since until this September.”

Concerns overcame Victor’s face. “Since then? When exactly did it start?”

“When…”

.

.

.

It was late into the evening, way past the time when the engines normally ended their day. For Edward, this hadn’t been the case. He had been up since last night in the late hours of the evening, delivering a goods train to the midlands on the Mainland. The yardmen there had been kind enough to let him sleep for about an hour before leaving for Sodor. He hadn’t gotten enough sleep before the journey. Hell, he had gotten more of a nap at Wellsworth Yards after having taken the Mayor of Sodor home from the dinner party at Vicarstown.

Maybe doing the special job wasn’t such a good idea.

“Och, well,” he had told himself when picking up that goods train. “Anythin’ tae help a friend.”

Especially when that friend was in need, he thought as he headed to Wellsworth Sheds.

James had been so excited to do the special after a hard day’s work, resulting in being covered in mud, coal dust, and sticky sugar from wheel to dome. His well-deserved washdown was meaningless when he found out about a tiny scratch on his paintwork. It seemed like the world was against him that day as his plan, evidently not foolproof, to dry his new paint job had failed.

He hadn’t expected James to ask him to take the special instead. Edward would’ve said something, knowing that it wasn't fair. But seeing James desperately not wanting to disappoint the Mayor and make the Fat Controller seem like a fool, he’d agreed with delight, hoping his positive energy would cheer up James for just a moment. The same way James would for him.

It worked.

He could only wonder what the next day had in store for James when he told the Fat Controller of the issue that evening. Looking back, Edward wondered if he had done the right thing. What if instead of helping James, it only made the situation worse? His nose twitched as he grew worried.

Edward came to a stop at Wellsworth Junction, just east of his home. Despite his worries, he wanted to just sleep in for a good while. The trip back home was pleasant, but without enough rest it was exhausting as well.

Rhett patted his cab when he let out a yawn. “We’re almost there, old boy. Just a bit more and then you’ll be sleeping in your shed in no time.”

“Sleep wid be nice,” hummed the Victorian with mild humor.

And that’s when he heard that splendidly bright whistle.

Edward immediately perked up. What was James doing up so-? He let out a gasp when he saw a pair of red and cream coaches streaming behind James’ tender.

“Och, ye dae look splendid taenicht, James!” he praised without another thought as the bright red medium-sized tender engine passed by him on the adjacent line with the coaches. He was surprised to see the Mayor inside the coaches, who waved at him once he saw the engine.

“Thank you, Edward!” James boasted. “I know~!”

It was a brief moment when warmth rushed to his freckled cheeks. It wasn’t acknowledged until his crew pointed it out when he settled down in his shed that night. All parties brushed it off as being caused by his exhaustion. That Edward had been pushing himself a bit more to get home and it was enough to make him exhausted.

.

.

.

After some hesitation, Edward replied, “When I came across James when he took the mayor tae Vicarstown.”

Victor eyed Edward with suspicion. “What about the other- No, answer this instead. Think about every time it has happened. Is there something in common with all those instances?”

This drove Edward deep into his thoughts as he looked ahead at the setting sun. Before now, he had it happen twice. Once when he went through his mental checklist that morning, and once again when he was traveling with James to and from Vicarstown before Edward went ahead.

When James and he were heading to Kellsthrope once the chase was over? The day he returned from the works, working better than before, and the engines blew their whistles, James being the loudest of them all? The evening he returned from the Mainland and came across James? The times he spent with James, either taking their respective goods trains to Vicarstown or pulling one together? The times he wondered if he would come across James?

James. James. James. James… “James…”

“Pardon?” inquired Victor.

“James is always there,” Edward whispered nervously, before looking over at Victor. “What diz he huv tae dae wit’ this?”

The small red narrow-gauge engine cleared his pipes. Just that was enough of an indication that Victor knew or at least—had an idea of what was going on. “I don’t want to pry, but if we want to figure this out, we’re going to need to talk about your relationship with James. I think I might know what it is, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions, my friend.”

“Och, um… O’ course.”

“How does James make you feel?” Victor bluntly asked.

The forwardness caught Edward off-guard. He fumbled with his thoughts. “Well… he makes me feel…”

How did James make him feel?

.

.

.

“I’ll turn around at Maron! I’ll be back, Edward! I promise!”

“We’ll get there, I promise! Just hold on!”

.

.

.

“...he makes me feel safe,” he began slowly. “He cares aboot me, and he shows it.”

.

.

.

“Nu-uh! I’ll get that squawk out of ya, Seagull.”

“Sto-op!” squawked the flustered engine, continuing to laugh.

.

.

.

“He makes me feel joy,” he continued as the warmth of his cheeks grew. “The minute I start laughin’, he diz whit he can tae keep it goin’.”

.

.

.

“Could you take the Mayor to the ball for me?” James sputtered out frantically. “Please?”

“Och!” Edward perked up. “I’d be happy tae, James.”

“Oh, thank you!” James sighed with a smile of relief.

.

.

.

“He makes me feel reliable. He trusts me enouch tae rely oan my help. I ken I am but its thon reassurance frae others thon helps.”

.

.

.

“Whit happenit yesterday?” Edward inquired. It was the day after he had returned to the Mainland and he had managed to come across James at Kildane. His worries and curiosity got the best of him.

But instead of answering the question, James smiled warmly. “Thank you for that.”

This slightly confused Edward. “Whit for?”

“For sticking up for me,” replied James. “I didn’t even ask you, and yet you did it anyway.”

“Och, well, he wid’ve askit, sae I thoucht I’d tell him. It wis jist the most logical thing tae dae-!”

“No one else would’ve done that for me,” interjected James, making a point. “Maybe Toad, but no one else has done it when I couldn’t be there. Thank you, Ed.”

“Och! Y-Ye’re welcome!” he quickly replied. And then that throbbing sensation in his boiler happened, and the blue engine couldn’t shake off why.

“You were always splendid.”

.

.

.

“He makes me feel appreciatit. I’m still surprisit he callit me splendid, twice even!” chuckled Edward lightly, letting the giddiness slip out.

.

.

.

Pumping his piston with excitement, the newly mended Larger Seagull engine rushed down the Main-Line in the early hours of the morning. He felt amazing, gliding down the tracks with his mended parts.

“How do you feel, old boy?” prompted Charlie as they neared Tidmouth Yards.

“I feel amazing!” chortled Edward. “I feel new!”

“That’s the spirit!”

And once Edward came into the yards, he was unexpectedly welcomed with a barrage of bright cheerful whistles. The loudest amongst them all came from the very engine he saved all those weeks ago. The one who missed his driver very much, but had missed Edward more, as Edward would come to find out a few days later.

.

.

.

“Lovit,” Edward noted. “He makes me feel lovit. Maybe thon’s why he’s ane of ma closest friends.”

Victor hummed. “Friend, or something more?” he questioned.

“Somethin’ more?” inquired Edward. “Whit dae ye mean?”

“Do you know what it is between a couple?”

The question confused Edward. “I dinnae understand…?”

“Love. You are in love with James, Edward. And not just as a ‘close friend’. The same way a human does for someone else, for the same reasons you’ve felt that way.”

His eyes widened behind his brass-framed glasses. “But he’s a close friend!” Edward insisted, as if Victor’s conclusion was a scandalous discovery. “Engines-! We-!” the Victorian sputtered, becoming a furiously flustered and burning mess, though managing to suppress his squawks. Sure, he’d seen it between the passengers. He wasn’t oblivious to it. He just never questioned it, like the others did. Brushing it aside as “a human thing.” “How dae-?”

“I may be in the workshop most of my time, but I’ve heard enough from the men to know about these things,” hummed Victor. “They tend to put up a front, but when they know each other well enough, they’ll talk about their partners to each other as if they’re the most precious things in their lives. I don’t fully understand this specific concept, but I understand it enough to see when someone is in love. You’re not the first engine to deal with this, from what I hear, I can promise you that. But you are the first engine on Sodor to do so, as far as I know.”

“Sae it's… normal?” Edward inquired with hesitation.

“You remember how people acted when they began to realize us sentient locomotives have feelings?”

Edward could remember that all too well. “I dae.”

“It’s normal,” reassured Victor. “But we, locomotives, believe it isn’t, because of what people say. I’ve learned a lot since I came here to work in this place, and that was one of the first things I learned when I got here. Other than English, of course,” Victor added humorously.

A small laugh managed to slip from Edward’s lips. “Sae I’m fine. As in, actually fine? Other than ma piston rod, thon is?”

“You’re fine, Edward. There is nothing wrong with being in love with another engine, especially when they’re someone close, from the sound of it.”

With a modest burn, Edward smiled warmly. “Thank ye, Victor.”

“You’re welcome, my friend,” replied Victor. “So will you tell him?”

“Naw!” Edward squawked suddenly. “He diz’nae ken whit love is! I cannae jist dae thon tae him!”

“But you can’t keep hiding something like this,” reprimanded Victor. “It might make it awkward for you both if you do.”

“I cannae jist drop somethin’ like this oantae him, Victor!” argued Edward frantically. “Thon’s selfish o’ me, and I cannae dae thon tae James.” Warm-brass-eyes looked away and down at his buffers. “He diz’nae deserve somethin’ sae sudden tae be droppit oan him, somethin’ thon could scare him aff. I dinnae want tae lose him because o’ ma wants…”

Victor relented. He was prying much further than he wanted and intended to. “My apologies, Edward. I’ll leave it to you. It is your decision. I didn’t mean to poke any further.”

“I-It’s fine, Victor. I’m sorry, too, for ma outburst. I ken ye mean well, but I dae need time tae process… this,” Edward emphasized.

“I think you’ll find that you will have plenty of that while you wait for your piston rods,” reminded Victor humorously.

“Touché,” replied Edward with a chuckle.

“Alright, it is getting late, and we can’t do much for your repairs until your piston rods come in, so we’re calling it a night,” noted Victor. With a double whistle and a wheesh of steam, Victor bid his farewell. “Good night, Edward. Get a good night's rest.”

“Guid nicht, Victor!” exclaimed Edward as Victor left for the shed, leaving the elder engine alone with his thoughts. He stared off into the night sky as the workmen shut the doors of the Steamworks. At least these doors had windows at the top, so he could still see through them.

His warm-brass eyes followed the snowflakes that fell, dancing in the chilly air. For once, he could agree with Thomas that snow was light, fluffy, harmful nonsense, or it was from a distance.

From what he understood, love sounded like the way snow worked. At first glance, it’s sweet and oh-so-lovely—Edward’s seen it multiple times—but when one first experiences it or even begins to question it, love becomes more than a concept. It becomes a rabbit hole of questions, ones that Edward couldn’t answer, despite his age and being known as someone to seek guidance from.

He was like a snowflake falling from the sky, wandering and not knowing what, or why. But one thing was certain, and he knew Victor was right. He kept rethinking the times he spent with James for the past few months since that day. The more he did, the less doubts there were about Victor’s conclusion. Just like a fluffy and delicate snowflake in the early days of December, Edward had fallen into a pile with many others who had gone through… this. He had fallen in love with his close friend. The thought still shocked him.

As Edward let sleep take over, he let out a soft but nervous sigh. “I’m in love wit’ James,” he whispered with a yawn. The weight of reality sunk within him as he dozed off to sleep.

…

The following morning was quiet when Edward awoke in the back of the Steamworks, where he had been left last night. He yawned as Kevin approached him.

“The Fat Controller is coming to see you, Edward!” he announced frantically. “He’ll be here shortly.”

Edward perked up from his slumped frame. “Och, thank ye, Kevin!” he pipped with gratitude.

Kevin giggled as usual before rushing off to find Victor.

About an hour passed when he heard the sound of that familiar, splendidly bright whistle shrill throughout the Steamworks. Warm-brass eyes went wide, and he became nervous. In an attempt to push it away, Edward was about to whistle back when he realized he couldn’t. He didn’t have any steam in him. How silly of me, he thought as James approached him with the Fat Controller in his cab.

Once James came to a steady halt, which the Fat Controller praised momentarily, said man climbed out from James’ cab with the help of his two assistants. Once he was on the ground, safe and sound, the Fat Controller walked up to Edward. “Good morning, Edward. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feelin’ fine, sir,” Edward replied, giving his full attention to his owner.

“No pain?” he inquired further.

“No’ anymore, sir.”

The Fat Controller let out a heavy sigh. “Thank goodness, Edward. You gave us a bit of a fright there.”

“Well, I’m alricht noo, sir,” Edward reassured before peering over at James, who was simply smiling and observing the interaction. “I never did thank ye yesterday. Thank ye for bringin’ me here, James.”

The vain iron horse puffed up with pride, but his cheeks burning didn’t go unnoticed by anyone present. “It’s the very least a splendid engine like me could do!”

Edward chuckled softly before returning his attention to the Fat Controller. “The others oan ma line ur’nae dealing with more than wit’ they can, ur they?”

It was the Fat Controller’s turn to laugh. “Oh, don’t worry about it. They’re doing just fine. Ryan’s covering your passenger duties and I’ve put Donald there to do his work while you’re gone.”

A sigh of relief left him. “Thon’s guid.”

“You just rest, old friend,” reassured the Fat Controller as he patted Edward’s left buffer. “You’ll be back in service in no time. Let’s just hope we don’t run into delays this time. We don’t need another- ahem- incident to happen again.” He emphasized as he looked over to Victor and Kevin, who had approached the three moments prior.

Both James and Edward looked at the pair in confusion as Kevin chuckled nervously and Victor laughed with a warm smile directed to his co-worker. “Let’s just say that Kevin’s learned about the snow,” suggested Victor.

“Snow really is trouble!” chirped Kevin with a shudder, convinced by the incident that took place last year.

“I would like a word with both of you,” prompted the Fat Controller. “Preferably somewhere else.”

“Oh, of course sir!” agreed Victor as he led the Fat Controller and Kevin to another area of the workshop.

That left Edward and James alone.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” asked James quickly before the silence established itself between the pair.

“Positive,” replied Edward. “I assume ye’ve told the others?”

“I panicked!” huffed James in defense. “It’s just odd, that you’re not there Saturdays and nothing’s said about it.”

“Ma-”

“Don’t,” interjected James. “It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault that your piston rod broke off yesterday. You couldn’t have known, so don’t argue with me about it.”

Edward just stared at James, starting to focus intensely on said engine, before saying anything. "Mmm… Are they doing okay?”

“Are they doing okay?” repeated the vain red engine, to which Edward shot a quizzical look. “Jeez, Edward. You’re asking about the others yet you’re the one injured,” he lightly chastised with good intention.

“Ye’ve seen how Thomas, Emily, and Percy get,” reminded Edward. “I dinnae want tae distract them frae their work.” Edward paused for a moment. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine. Was I scared yesterday? Yes. But I’m feeling fine now,” James insisted.

“You almost fell into the turntable this morning,” his fireman, George, whispered hastily, loud enough for both engines to hear.

“The turntable?” inquired Edward worriedly, unintentionally raising his voice.

“He didn’t need that!” hissed James before he sighed in defeat. “I… wasn’t paying attention, but I’m fine!”

“Thank goodness nothin’ happenit!”

James huffed before laughing. “Look at you. Worrying about others when you’re the one sitting in the Steamworks waiting for repairs.”

“I-!”

“It’s what makes you a great friend,” reassured James. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

If Edward’s fire had been lit, the smaller engine would’ve been burning and wheeshing about. He was about to speak when the Fat Controller’s voice boomed from the nearby. “Alright, James. Time to go!” he announced as he approached the bright red tender engine. Once he and his assistants climbed into James’ cab, James reversed. “Let’s hope that piston rod comes in sooner rather than later, Edward. Good day!”

“G-Guid-bye, sir!” Edward managed to squeak out. “Guid-bye, James!”

“Goodbye, Edward! See you around!” James hollered as he left the Steamworks.

Edward stared off into the distance, once again watching the larger scarlet engine rush away before disappearing from his view. It was then he took notice of his shakiness. It wasn’t noticeable from what he could tell as nobody had said anything. Why am I shaking? he pondered before his brow furrowed, eyes following in the direction his close friend had gone. It can’t be because of James just being here, is it? Maybe I’m just nervous, but whatever for?

His mind tried pushing away the thought that it was James’ presence setting it off, but it came right back. It worsened his state of mind as he began to worry about how he might act the next time he came across the splendid red engine.

What if James notices and it makes him uncomfortable? To the point where he may not want to be around anymore?

With a deep breath, Edward let out a sigh, recollecting his thoughts before he went off the deep end. I have plenty of time to think things through, just like Victor said, he thought. I have time.

~

ka-chow

Ok, my bs aside! Literally smiling so fucking big rn. Mentally squealing, giggling, and kicking my fic. God, I love these mfs so much. AUGH-!

Edward's piston popping was inspired by the episode "Surprise, Surprise!" so go put the blame of Edward's pain on that thing. Sad that this screenshot is the only decent shot we get of these two in snowploughs :(

Had a sudden spur of ideas for this fic so I sat myself down and JUST WROTE. Went back and edited once my mind calmed down as i had my beta readers go over it. again, ty you both.

If it's the cheesiest shit you've ever read, then i've won. /j

Gonna be honest for a few seconds. I kept cringing as I wrote this, and not for a bad reason. This is my first fic dealing with the "catching feelings" trope. I've written fics (99% of which were never published) dealing with romance before but it only explored the "after getting together" period. Even then, it was very little of what i wrote.

Hope you enjoyed this fic! Thank you so much for reading. Comments, reblogs, and kudos are appreciated. 💙

[angelictyphoon]

@forgivenpunishment

World hopping, as it turns out, is far less disorienting than Vash expected it to be. Rather, the actual traveling involved in blinking out of one universe and into another feels something like air rushing out of a tunnel and the shifting of the earth beneath his feet and at the same time nothing at all. 

“This place is weird,” Vash decides, unsure of what to make of the vouchers that had been shoved into his hands by an exuberant greeter as they passed into town. He glances down to read the gold foiled text: ‘POINT PLEASANT RESORT AND SPA: WELCOME TO MAXIMUM RELAXATION.’ The backside features a photogenic couple walking off towards the setting suns of Gunsmoke and glowing testimonials about the open air baths and massage services.

All well and good, but…Nothing in comparison to the looming shadow of a SEEDS ship that eclipses their view of the suns rising out from the center of town. An intact ship. Pristine. The main hull is polished to a gleam, the thrusters and engines look like they could power up at any moment, and the bay doors are open to a steady stream of townspeople walking up and down the ramp.

The fleet had been hundreds of ships strong. It is not impossible that one or two may have survived the Big Fall without suffering damage. This settlement does not seem to be wanting. The buildings are well constructed, the people well-dressed and fed, and yet somehow it all seems too quaint.

No wanted posters. No sheriff’s station. No obvious ruffians loitering with fingers curled into their bandoliers in search of an easy mark. The population here is entirely civilian. Full of life, of people who do not seem browbeaten by the twin suns that constantly threatened doom for the exposed and unprepared.

A small tourist town with extreme means. 

Vash openly gawks at a fruit stand selling candied apple slices and salted melon wedges. From here too, they can see the two story building nestled against an overlook and a grand eyebrow signage welcoming visitors to the resort promised by the voucher presently pinned between his fingers.

There are no obvious signs from the main thoroughfare of where and when they are exactly. Nothing but the town’s name stretched across the gateway sign that now stands behind them as they tentatively make their way into Point Pleasant.

Weird. Not bad weird, but he can’t tell if it’s good weird. 

“I guess…we should make the most of it before we meet up with the others again?” Definitely phrased as a question, given his limited knowledge of any world hopping protocols they might have established.

[itsamebubza]

ficlet under the cut to give a bit of context.

The last couple of weeks, they had been gathering information about a possible, definitive, fix for Karlach’s engine heart. The infernal duo had taken to Avernus, leaving Astarion and Tav to look for a solution on the surface.

Reconnaissance had been boring, and neither Tav nor Astarion were big on planning, but when Tav had stormed in Elfsong in the middle of the day while Astarion dwindled the hours away demanding they both left that very second, his affliction be damned, the situation felt more hopeful.

They had all decided that Karlach’s engine took precedence before Astarion’s malaise, as he could cover up from the sun and Karlach very much remained a ticking time bomb. The group split up, Wyll and Karlach looking through Avernus and, Tav and Astarion searching through Faerûn.

Tav had taken them right outside Manorborn Gate, or more accurately to an old forgotten mansion a couple of streets away from the entrance. A big building with extensive decorations littering the entrance with intricate iron designs.

Astarion pulled his cloak tighter, it was high noon, and even with his momentary solution to his sun allergy by Jaehira, his skin felt prickly and stung slightly.

Tav looked back at Astarion as they finally managed to go inside the building.

“Alright, you should be fine now. Take off that thing, I need your eyes peeled and fully able” they said in practiced calm, their eyes flickering left and right, months working in the dark leaving them skittish in broad daylight in comparison to Astarion, who had been in his element after the grief that first night after the Netherbrain lost. “I’m… not entirely sure what we’re looking for…”

The building was beautiful, if a little predictable in layout and decor, whatever the previous tenants had left behind. The immaculate white walls lead to impossibly long looking hallways as the vitraux windows tinted the rooms in an eerie lilac hue. It felt familiar in an unknowable way, but perhaps his many nightly escapades the past two centuries had lead him into similar mansions before. It was difficult to say.

"Faustus said 'you'd know when you see it'" Tav finished quietly as they looked away.

Astarion sighed and walked down the dusty hall, turning around as he took in the room. It felt familiar in a sort of unknowable way, perhaps due to the flurry of mansions he had sneaked in through 200 years of pretending to have romantic rendezvous with Cazador’s preys. The thought brought a chill down his back.

“Well, luckily infernal things reek. We’ll surely find whatever Faustus sent us to fetch quickly enough”, his ego remained as bloated and pompous as always, even without the protection against the blaring sun.

“Astarion. We’re not here for Karlach,” they confessed looking at him intently, something clearly itching to come out of their lips, their eyes bubbling with the unspoken. Tav walked further down the corridor as they spoke, “Let’s split and come back in 10 minutes to touch base. And remember:”.

“Let's do anything hilarious.” They said in unison, the humor not lost to either of them.

The white marble hall echoed around their steps as they rushed through the overgrown manor, it’s decadence hauntingly beautiful in all of its splendor.

Each room resembled the last, covered furniture littered the floors, and had it not been for a bowl of decade old decayed goo, Astarion would have guessed these halls had never been blessed with life. Tav had been gone for a while, their footsteps dissipating in the distance, leaving Astarion alone.

The sudden pitter-patter of small footsteps caught his attention, it could just be an animal, but seeing as he had seen no droppings around the complex it seemed highly unlikely. He readied a knife an

A young boy, couldn’t be a day older than 8, in a corridor looking much too clean for an abandoned mansion. The whole situation was odd, looking much too out of place, but before Astarion could ask the kid what was he doing, a pale and poked out of a doorway, stopping the kid from entering.

“Not now, my little starlight. Mum’s busy.” The voice sounded far, an echo of a past long lost to time, yet warm and inviting.

The boy looked defeated, his toy falling to the ground as he turned running towards Astarion and disappeared as his image collided with his body, revealing an empty hallway with leaves peppering the floor. The cold of the ghostly touch froze him inside out.

“There you are!” Tav reprimanded with a smile. “I thought the earth had swallowed you”. Their face soured when Astarion finally turned towards them, even paler than they thought was possible. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Maybe I have.”

[lesbianwriter]

not actually sure if it would count but,,, human x robot/android? I mean it's just two girlies but the human genuinely wants to be in a relationship with her oblivious bot

“You must be careful,” Robot scolded, frowning. Her assigned human didn’t make any sense—she always sent the codes in her mind scrambling to adjust. “You’re fragile, you could get hurt if you keep being so…” Robot searched her database for a word that would describe how she felt, but also wouldn’t insult her owner. “…so…”

“Stupid? Idiotic? Ridiculous?” Hero grinned, looking up at Robot cheekily, raising her brows. “It’s okay, you can say it.”

“No, I’m not to insult my owner. It would be imprudent, and I’d have to be reset.” Robot shook her head. She set her hands on Hero’s shoulders, careful to keep her metallic touch gentle as she eased her back down in the bed. “You mustn’t be so…audacious.”

“You have a whole thesaurus up in that brain, huh?” Hero tilted her head, an impish smile still plastered on her face, though it was worn slightly in the corners as she looked into Robot’s eyes. “Do you have a heart, Robot?”

The robot blinked.

Mechanically, she went about her usual routine of preparing Hero’s room for nighttime as her mind scrambled to think of a response to the sudden and unexpected question. When she was done with the final step, setting the alarm clock, her motions were completed and all the boxes were checked—she could’ve just stood there and shut down if she so chose, now that everything for the night was done and Hero was securely in bed, but she found that she turned to face Hero and her mouth opened.

“In what way? I have a power center in the center of my stomach.” She put a hand to it, and looked at Hero with more intensity. “If you mean about…about feelings, I have a chip in my brain that helps me process unique human emotions such as empathy and take that into consideration for my caretaking.”

Hero always asked confusing questions.

Robot stood there, staring at her owner oddly. Caring for the stubborn Hero was her job—her boss, her official owner who had bought her and set her up, wanted to do everything to keep her safe because she was fragile. Humans were all fragile in comparison to the tough metal that Robot was made of, but he said that Hero was especially breakable, and she had to be handled with the utmost care and gentleness.

Naturally, she did everything to fulfill that, but Hero had a strange way of throwing her a curveball when she least expected it.

“Is that all, Hero?”

Hero’s lipped twitches upwards, and she shook her head. “Tell me about how you feel feelings.” She sat up in the bed, alert as a hawk. “C’mon, please.”

“I can simulate human emotions using a complex AI system that reacts to my environment.”

“But do you feel it?”

“How so?”

Robot’s fingers twitched. Was Hero looking for a flaw? Surely she wasn’t…not sweet, reckless Hero…but she stiffened anyways.

Hero swung her legs out of the bed, sending the carefully tucked sheets flying onto the floor. “Does your heart or your brain feel it? Is it real?”

“Of course it’s not real.” Robot looked at Hero up and down. She reached forward to grab Hero’s arm. “It’s bedtime, you need to get a good nights sleep—humans need sleep, especially you.”

Hero reached up to touch Robot’s cheek, her warm fingers on the synthetic skin. Robot’s face was the most human looking part of her, but it wasn’t real. “I don’t believe that.” Hero smiled. “You get annoyed with me, that’s a feeling.”

“I am a robot, not a human. I don’t feel emotions; everything I ‘feel’ is a simulation created by scientists and engineers.”

The metal encompassing her being felt tangible, reminding her that she was a robot—she didn’t have soft skin, warm blood, or a pumping heart. Hero had those things. She a hypnotic rhythm to her heartbeat that Robot listened to at night. She had delicate, soft skin that Robot had to be especially careful not to bruise with her touch. They were opposites; robot and human. Whatever Hero wanted…Robot didn’t understand it, but she knew it wasn’t possible.

Hero’s expression softened, and her fingers moved to touch Robot’s hair. Also synthetic. “How do you feel right now?”

“Confused.”

“Is that all?”

Hero was doing it again—she was scrambling up her code, clogging up her programming with confusing questions that took her too long to compute.

She blinked as she looked down at the human. She held onto Hero’s arm, pulling her to the bed. “Bothered.”

“Why?” Hero persisted, as if trying to stick her fingers into an open wound and mess it up. “What is it that’s bothering you?”

“You are acting…unruly…and I don’t appreciate it when you have curfew and need to get a certain amount of sleep to improve your health.” She felt like her gears were grinding—of course, they weren’t, or else she’d be shutting down, but Hero was annoying her greatly.

Not only did she try to go outside to where she could get hurt, but now she was resisting sleep too!

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Tell me I’m acting stupid. Say it.”

“Y-you…” Robot hesitated. “You are acting…stupid. You’re acting stupid.” She gaped at her own audacity, to say that to her owner! “Go to bed! You’re messing with me, and you’re going to be weak if you don’t get enough sleep!”

She didn’t.

She couldn’t have just insulted her owner.

With new insistence, she tried to get Hero to lay down in the bed, she tried to pull the blanket over the human woman, she tried to get all the boxes checked once more so that she could leave the room and reset herself, but the hero wasn’t budging.

“Robot, I’m not sick.” Hero insisted gently. She sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at Robot with wide eyes. She shook her head. “You’re right, you’re a robot, but you’re smart. Don’t you have access to medical databases? I’m not experiencing symptoms of illness—Supervillain is lying.”

She stared down at the woman.

“You’re fragile—my owner wouldn’t lie to me.”

“Would I lie to you?” Hero prodded further. “Please, look into your heart. You know he truth. Ignore whatever your programming says and tell me what your feelings say.”

“My prototype doesn’t have feelings.” Robot took a step back. “You’re messing with me. Stop it.”

“Robot, I like you. Please look into your heart, and see that Supervillain is lying to you so that we can get out of here together.”

Robot was defective.

That was the only conclusion she could come up with as she thought about feelings, and she realized that she felt something. If she had breathing, it would be heavy right now.

She needed to be reset—no, disassembled—but she stared at Hero with a strange curiosity and realized that was her programming telling her that she needed that…it wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to reset herself.

Her hand stopped in its tracks halfway too the reset button, and she lowered it slowly and cautiously.

Whatever this was couldn’t have been prepared for.

“Where would we go? I’m a robot, not a human.”

Hero smiled. “Well, preferably somewhere away from lots of water.” She stood up again, looking up at Robot tenderly. “We can figure that out later. Will you run away with me?”

Robot stared for a long few seconds. “…yes, I will.”