#which is crying on trams

[szappan]

i miss gill & gilbert :-(

[disastrqueer]

.

[inkbybambi]

best friend!simon riley picking you up from a bad date —

words: 2.2k rating: nothing explicit apart from a brief mention of sex, just some light angst and comfort. my blog is 18+ so minors please dni. warning: hurt/comfort, fluff, pet names, insecurity/doubt/worry, mentions of sex, simon is the softie we all know he is notes: originally written for @ghosts-cyphera ♡ we all need a bestfriend!simon in our lives who's so sweet and gentle with us.

One thing you love about Simon — besides everything — is how reliable he is. Strong, steadfast, there when you need him. Even when he’s not physically there — his work taking him away for weeks or even months at a time — you find yourself reading over the messages he’s sent, the little sticky notes he’s left, whatever memento you’ve kept of him tucked away in the drawer in your bedside table.

Not that you’ll tell him that.

You hate asking him for favors — asking anyone for favors, really, but him especially. Whenever you ask someone for help, it's always accompanied by a long-suffering sigh or a roll of the eyes or some very clear indication that they'd rather do anything else.

Except for Simon.

Which is why you're hesitant to ask him more than you absolutely need to. You don't want to push your luck too far, less he eventually tires of you as well.

Losing people hurts, always assuming it's you that caused the problem. You've come to accept this, even if the dark feelings of being too much or a burden claw at the edges of your mind.

But losing Simon? You don't think you'd ever get over that.

It's just after 9pm, the sky dark and clouds threatening, with thunder rumbling steadily in the sky. Your hand shakes as you fumble your phone from your pocket, trying to hold tears at bay as you scroll through your contacts.

Your call log is all Simon.

Some appointments here and there, but Simon everywhere else.

Fuck.

You hiccup, the tears spilling from your eyes as the sky finally opens up, joining you in your mourning.

You don't have any other choice, really, so you click his number before you can talk yourself out of it and walk home instead, bringing it up to your ear as it rings.

He answers before the third ring.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," you sniffle into the phone, before he has a chance to say anything. You take in a sharp breath, blood turning to ice. "Am i bothering you?" you sound so meek and small and tired. “No, dove, you’re not,” comes his calm, reassuring voice. You’re only half-convinced.

"I'm sorry," you begin again. Your heart falls to your stomach, convincing yourself that this is his final straw. You're overtaken by a wave of nausea, despite not having eaten anything since lunch. "I didn't know who else to call, and I lost my tram pass, and I don't have an umbrella, and — "

“Dove,” he says, his accent soothing to your ears — he's so endlessly patient and kind. You ache.

"I can just walk home, I-I'm sorry," you whimper out, unable to stop the tears blurring your vision, feeling pathetic and weak and so, so alone. “Darling,” he says, a little stern. Not angry, never angry. Trying to focus you. “What’s wrong?”

“U-um, my date stood me up,” you sniff, swallowing hard. "I waited an hour," you mumble, looking to your shoes. "Messaged him too, y'know. He just. Didn't show."

You think you hear Simon curse over the line and your heart lurches, feeling like you're about to be sick. “Where are you?”

There's a rustle of fabric, the clink of keys, the heel of his boot walking across his floor. You manage to tell him the name of the restaurant, voice cracking. “Twenty minutes,” he says, and you’re about to protest but he beats you to it. “Sit there and be good and patient and I’ll pick you up, yeah?”

"Okay," you whisper in agreement, before the line clicks dead and you allow yourself to cry, huddling under the awning as some protection from the rain, now coming down in thick, sharp waves.

Thirteen minutes later, the headlights of his truck shine through the dark, pulling up to the curb. You make a mad dash for the passenger door, still getting drenched in the process.

You can't even look at him, hands shaking as you buckle the belt, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

He says your name gently. You take in a shuddering breath and let it out just as shaky, looking over towards him. He's wearing his balaclava, but his eyes — even in the dark, you can make out his beautiful eyes. Assessing you, worrying.

"I'm sorry," you croak out. You can't help it. It's burned into your tongue, driven into your mind to make him understand you didn't want to bother him. He doesn't have to forgive you, but as long as he knows, that's enough.

"Love," he says, and there's... something in his voice, as he reaches over for your hand, holding it gently in his own. His eyes never leave yours. "'m never gonna be mad about you askin' for help." Your eyes flit away, but he squeezes your hand and you reluctantly look back. "You know me better than that," he says, as if he can read the treacherous thoughts swirling in your head, drowning you and making it hard to breathe.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. He hums, bringing the back of your hand up to graze his covered lips over the back, pulling out to drive you back.

"This is your flat," you say, fifteen minutes later as he shuts the car off. You were too busy looking at the window, watching the rain drops race down the glass, to notice that he wasn't driving the familiar route to your place.

"Yes," he replies, as if it's obvious he'd bring you here. "You really think I'd let you stay home alone?"

His eyes are so fucking bright. It startles you, and you hate how your heart twists and thumps at how intently he's looking.

"I..." you start, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. His eyes flicker to your lips, snapping away just as quick. "I was gonna eat ice cream and drink shitty, cheap wine," you say.

"As if I don't have either of those things here," he replies, opening the door and effectively ending the conversation. You scramble after him, eager to be inside in the warmth and burrow yourself into his couch.

"Go get changed," he says, voice clear as he removes the balaclava and bends to untie his shoes.

You hesitate for a second, until he looks up to you and there's that something lingering in his gaze — the same something that was in his voice.

"Go on now," he repeats, softer, and you ditch your shoes and your uncomfortably wet jacket by his.

His flat is as familiar as your own — you could walk through it blindfolded at night and you wouldn't knock into a single thing.

Well.

You might knock into a corner or two, but that's not a vision thing. It's a you're a bit clumsy thing. Simon finds it endlessly amusing, poking at the bruises that blossom on your skin while you bat his hand away.

His bedroom is familiar as well. Which is why you don't think twice before you're shimmying out of your clothes — undergarments as well — and rifling through his drawers, finding your favorite shirt of his and a pair of his boxers.

You take a moment to smell the collar, taking comfort in the scent that lingers. You’ve been dressed in his clothes many times before this but it feels different this time.

As you pad back out to the living room, Simon’s already on the couch. Your favorite blanket is draped across his lap, two bowls of ice cream and a bottle of cheap wine sitting open, glasses filled far more than you would’ve. You’ll indulge him, mostly because you have the sneaking suspicion that he’ll have you sleep here anyways.

His balaclava is off. The last dregs of tension drain from you as he looks over to you, face soft in the lowlight of the lamp, tv ready with a show you’ve watched a thousand times that he watches with you without complaint.

“Knew you’d choose that one,” he says with a bit of a smirk as you crawl on the couch, burrowing yourself into his side, his arm slinging across the back of the cushion.

“Am I that predictable?” you mumble, a small thank you as he hands you a bowl.

He doesn’t answer, but you feel the burn of his stare before he snorts, flicking the tv to start playing, the familiar theme relaxing you further.

The silence with him is comfortable, lingering in a hazy in-between of awake and sleep, empty bowls and mostly empty glasses sitting on the coffee table.

“Were you going to fuck him?” he asks, three episodes in, bottle empty.

You blink, not sure if you heard him properly as you pull back to look at him. You can’t read his eyes. Something hot twists in your gut.

“I-I don’t know, Simon,” you start, the weight of his stare heavy. “Maybe?”

He doesn’t say anything and you chew your lip for a moment, fingers curling to play with the blanket. “Depends how the date went, I suppose. Doesn’t matter much now,” you snort. His gaze hasn’t changed. “Why?”

His jaw clicks, taking a deep breath. “You deserve better ‘n that.”

A confused frown pulls at your mouth, unsure how to reply. “I know how to be safe,” you tell him, voice soft.

He seems to be weighing his words in his head, lowering the volume of the show. You feel sick.

Dark eyes rove over your face, taking in every minute detail. You bite at your nail, just for something to do.

“Don’t think there’s a bloke in the world that’s worthy of ya.”

Your frown deepens, breaking your eyes from his, twisting your fingers in your lap. Relationships aren’t easy. Being that vulnerable with someone isn’t easy.

You never want someone to pay for you, and even the smallest gestures like opening the car door or pulling out your chair feel like it’s too much. You don’t deserve that kind of attention. After a while, they’ll get tired. You’ll become a burden to them like everything else in your life.

It’s easier to be by yourself. The only person you have to worry about bothering is you.

“Love.” He tilts his head, eyes trying to catch yours. How hasn’t he gotten tired of you yet?

A hand under your chin forces your gaze up, and you try to shrink yourself against the back of the couch. Your voice catches in your throat, words stuck there.

“What’s goin’ on in tha’ pretty head f’yours?”

You swallow thickly, finding it damn near impossible to keep your eyes on his.

“‘s not like it matters,” you start. his brows furrow, but he stays silent. “No one would want me anyways.”

“‘n why would you say that?”

Frustration burns the back of your throat. Isn’t it obvious? You can barely call him in a dire situation without thinking the worst of yourself. How can he think of you as anything but a nuisance? How could he think anyone else would put up with it?

“You wouldn’t understand,” you say, defeated. You crumble back into the couch.

“Make me understand.”

Heat flashes at the nape of your neck. He takes your hands in his, cradling them in his warmth. Your name sounds so soft in his voice.

“How aren’t you tired of me?” comes your whispered question, nose tingling and eyes threatening to water. You look at him. Hesitant. Scared.

The silence is loud. His own frown deepens. It takes a few painful minutes, but you see the moment something clicks in place.

“You know I’d do anything for you, yeah?”

Your lip quivers, sniffling as you beg yourself not to cry.

“Because you do the same for me,” he continues. You doubt it, mind going blank of every time he’s come to you for something.

His touch moves to your elbow, tugging you forward gently until he can arrange you in his lap. He slips his hands beneath the hem of his shirt, thumbs rubbing on your hips just above the waistband of his boxers.

You slowly brace your hands on his shoulders. Firm and broad and safe.

“You apologize so much. You worry so much.” the tears slip down your cheeks, throat aching, but now you can’t look away from him. One hand moves to cup the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing gently at the skin behind your ear.

“You’re allowed to ask for help.”

You shake your head, a no caught in your throat, tears blurring your vision.

“Oh, love.” He cradles you into the curve of his neck, arm wrapping around your waist and keeping a gentle hold at the base of your skull. “You have me wrapped around your finger ‘n you don’t even know it.”

He lets you cry into his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt. His cologne is soothing and you eventually slump against him. You’re so tired.

His lips graze your temple, his soft touch lulling you to sleep. You’ll talk about it tomorrow, but for now you want to stay wrapped up in his arms, held by someone who genuinely loves you.

[riddlessecretss]

Train ride with Mattheo Riddle:

• You CANNOT tell me he would not bombard your phone with selfies.🤣

• Your passcode being his birthday>>

• Fucking him in front of his friends because you two don’t care.

Omg the way he looks in this photo is just majestic.

“Y/nn! Hurry up, I don’t know why you brought that suitcase for this year.”

“I’ve got a dorm to myself this year which means I’ve got more storage. And I’m going to use it.”

He chuckled and helped you with pulling the case up from the platform. “Thank you baby.” You thank him with a kiss on the cheek. You start looking for your assigned seats and get the window and middle seat. Opposite you is Theodore and opposite Mattheo is Tom. You guys lost Tom and Theodore a while back while you were smoking and flirting with Mattheo.

You have a seat but sit on Mattheo’s lap so you can cuddle. You are always tense about the train since your older brother left the school and doesn’t go on the tram anymore. But messing around with Mattheo makes it better.

Theo didn’t get enough sleep last night because he had girls over, of course. He fell asleep first so you decided to take a photo.💀

You and Mattheo couldn’t stop laughing at how mad he looked even when he slept. When you got to know Theo you would learn that he’s probably the sweetest Slytherin out there. But he doesn’t like to show it.

But you were too busy still laughing at him to realise Blaise and Enzo had been editing photos of Tom and Draco. You open your phone to the gc to see these.

Tom👺- That is not funny! Just you fucking wait tonight Lorenzo Berkshire.

Enzo🌺- I take it back!!

Tom👺- Too late.

You- BAHAHA🤣

Draco🌝- I CANTT

Blaise🏋️- Draco don’t think your safe💀

Mattheo❤️- Oh shit😭 the first one is baddd buddy.

Draco🌝- My father will hear about this!

You get tired after all the messing about with Mattheo so you decide to take a nap. Which results in another photo added in the gc.

Enzo🌺- Aww

Theo🇮🇹- And they laughed at me for sleeping!

You wake up from the smell of liquor and w33d. Mattheo passes you the joint. “Thank yo-“

“Any snacks for the remaining journey?”

For three years in a row you and Mattheo buy nearly everything and throw it around the carriage to share. You and Mattheo have taken upon yourselves to be the parents of the group whether your responsible or not is not important. You all get high as you arrive to school.

Dumbledore’s greeting speech is always a bore and you have to sit through all the new first years hat sorting ceremony. Mattheo has got his hand on your thigh the entire time.

“Can you stay quiet for me doll?” You nod as he slides his hand up and reaches under your skirt. You try and keep a straight face while Mattheo’s hand is on your pussy. He starts rubbing your clothed cunt and eventually speeds up. Before you get to cum Mattheo moves his hand away. Tease. You take a drink to help you cool down. His hand starts to creep back as the boys share a few sniggers in the new years crying over their hogwarts house.

His hand gets higher than before as he sneaks a finger in and curls up to hit your g-spot. A squeal leaves your mouth as you cover your mouth, luckily no-one heard. Mattheo adds two fingers as he adds, “You can be as loud as you want tonight.” You smirk as you remember your good luck tradition to make the room more welcoming is to fuck on the first night.

You squirm under his touch and it isn’t long until you cum in his hand. He hold eye contact as he licks his fingers.

“We have got a new student joining the 12th year!” Dumbledore announces as you all turn your head. The brunette walks up to the hat and already looks like fun, you wanna be her friend.

“SLYTHERIN!”🗣️🗣️

It’s late because I fell asleep. Enjoy and i will prolly make this a series. If I re log a post go and show them some love because these peoples works are impressive! Tyy for nearly 300 likes on a post! Navaiah💝

[lethalchiralium]

Drag Me Under | Happiness Series

a/n: ITS THE LAST POST BEFORE THE NEW YEARS!

warnings: mentions of drugging

summary: One moment, you’re home - the next? You’re somewhere you don’t recognize with people you don’t recognize either, holding one of your most precious valuables.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

There’s Simon, the cuddly man who adores being a girl dad and being a good husband. He’s quiet, he smiles, he loves holding either of his daughters for long periods of time - you’d be surprised if Mellie even learns to walk. He loves to kiss your head, loves to hold you, loves to be near you.

He plays dolls, he does tea parties, begrudgingly dresses up when asked by Winnie, but he still does it all with a smile on his face. He brushes little teeth in the morning and night, he changes diapers before you could ever try to, he hates tying his daughter’s shoes since she cries about leaving home and her toys. He kisses skinned knees, fingers bitten by Mellie, and stubbed toes.

That’s your Simon.

So when you come home crying from what was supposed to be a “day off” to go shopping and a spa day, Simon is there. He took one look at you when you came in the front door, four hours too early, he knew something was wrong. He put the baby in her bouncer, gently patted Winnie’s head, and made his way to you.

His hands touched your elbows, your hands were up shielding your face. His hands slid up, pulling yours away to look at your tear-stained face. You told him what happened, that a man harassed you at the coffee shop you went to right before you were meant to go to the spa. You quietly repeated what he said through tears and soft sobs, not wanting to describe how the man touched your back, but still detailing how he followed you - how you remembered what Simon said, wove through back streets until you found a tram and made your way home.

It’s not the first time you’ve been harassed, but it was one of the scariest. You wrapped around arms around your husband’s neck, expecting him to mold right to your body but he didn’t. His hands settled on your cheek and hip, a chaste kiss on your ear before he said he needed to go out for a pack of cigarettes.

It wasn’t until fifteen minutes later that you found a fresh pack on the kitchen counter, just out of reach of the girls. His wallet, his keys, both on the tile far out of reach - two things were missing from his “pile”. His knife, which has your first date with Simon etched on the side, and a balaclava with a skull painted onto its face.

The man who left your house wasn’t Simon, you knew that for sure when hours after you had put the girls to bed, there was a soft knock on the front door. Three, pause, one, pause, two. The man you opened the door to had bloody knuckles, a ripped shirt, and prideful eyes.

You moved aside, closing the front door and watching the anomaly as it observed you, brown eyes detailing your face. The man who stood in your front hallway, coated in blood on his stomach and arms was called Ghost.

You were always weary of Ghost. Simon disappears under his armor to be someone else, something else - a machine. Well oiled, maintained, and reliable. No feelings, they only get in the way. Ghost was the monster your husband was made to be, but Simon was the man you made into a husband. So when you pulled off the balaclava to a smile full of red, blood beginning to drip from his teeth - your heart sank. Like a dog, he shows you his injuries so you can take pride in them. But you don’t.

“What did you do?”

“I-“

“No.” You shook like a leaf, you weren’t scared that he was going to hurt you - you were scared he had killed someone. For you. “Why did you do that?”

“He touched you.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “I didn’t tell you that.”

“Your body did.”

You fought tears then.

“Are you hurt?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“What did you do to him?”

It doesn’t take a genius to see that you were scared. And it doesn’t take much to see how the armor began to be broken, that Simon was slowly peeking through.

“I didn’t kill him.” He said, hand gently resting on your arm. “He’ll be spending a couple days in hospital, he learned his lesson.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“I know.” He nodded in acknowledgment. “But no one gets away with making you cry.”

•••

“She’s pretty.”

A cold hand touched your chin, you could barely move a muscle in your body. Your chest clenched with anxiety. Where were you? Who was talking? It sounded nothing like König’s Austrian accent, or anyone else you knew. Not any of the 141, no man you’ve ever heard.

“Did you get that baby to sleep?”

You felt sick at that exact second. Where was Mellie? Why couldn’t you open your eyes? You were holding her before… Oh god. Someone had gotten into the house, you were dragged out with Mellie - right past a bleeding out König. Nausea settled into your stomach like heavy ink, coating everything.

“Out like a light. Nothing a little morphine doesn’t fix.”

You could’ve thrown up at that second if it wasn’t for your body responding to any attempt to move, the air you took in to breathe was little. What did they give me? Why did they take Mellie? Is Winnie okay? Oh god, König. Laswell. Roach. Please have my daughter. Please save this one too.

“Boss said to leave them down here, right?”

“Yep. She should be waking up soon anyway.” There a slight chuckle. “Shame he won’t let us have our way like he usually does.”

“Apparently this one’s special, or whatever.”

“Sure. She’s married to a special forces operator. Boss knows which one, hope he knows what he’s doing.”

“The guy MI6?”

There’s a creak, a door slamming above you.

“Shit, he’s back already.”

“Let’s go. They’re fine.”

Creaking, more movement until a door opened, slammed shut, and there was a sharp metal thud - it sounded like a deadbolt. You could barely feel your fingers as you listened to the conversation upstairs, it seemed the floor was incredibly thin.

“Are they asleep?”

Lloyd.

Your thoughts were instantly engulfed in flames even though you were freezing cold; the ink turned to oil, your nausea turning into anger. Lloyd fucking Riley. Your father in law was behind this. Then it clicked. He was casing the house when he knocked. Laswell appearing must have thrown him off. He must have wanted to kidnap you himself.

It took all of your might, but your eyes sluggishly opened - your sight blurry, but you could see for the most part. The room you were in was dark, the only light seeping through was from the ceiling - in between rotting floorboards. You could see exactly where the men were standing; all right above you. You couldn’t tell feel much else, but at least you could see and hear. What did they drug you with? Hopefully the morphine they gave Mellie wasn’t enough to hurt her.

“Good.” A laugh. “She’s a darling little thing.”

“What, the baby?”

“Yes. And she’s beautiful too.”

“She is. Not sure why you’re not letting us-“

A step forward, four feet take a step back. “Touch her and I’ll slit your throats.” Silence for just a beat, boot snapped against a shin. “She is my plaything.” He then snapped in Russian, which you couldn’t understand a thing.

You tried not to be an angry person. You were committed to showing your girls that anger isn’t the answer. But it festered like a fever, slowly yet throughly seeping through your muscles. If anything happened to your daughter, you had no idea what you would do. Anything short of murder - you couldn’t even think of taking someone else’s life. That was Simon’s job.

Simon. Oh God, Simon.

There was hushed talking above you, you struggled to look around the room, trying to find your baby. Cardboard boxes, filled to the brim bins, a bookshelf with a broken shelf.

Find what you can use as a weapon. Nothing is off limits. If it can be used to stun or incapacitate your enemy, use it. Don’t let it go unless you have to. You could hear Simon speaking to you. He’d be here if he knew. You’d be out of here if he knew.

It’s okay. Stay calm. Find Melody.

You forced your legs to move, one by one and over the edge of the bed, you clenched your fists as best you could to gain more feeling in your arms. They definitely drugged you more intensely than they could have Mellie, it made you nauseous. You were able to sit up, your head spun and you fought to keep yourself from throwing up. You forced yourself to stand, you took a glance around. The closest things to you were a cardboard box, a broken laundry basket, and a ripped towel. You peered into the large cardboard box pushed against the wall and your shoulders dropped, anxiety flushed out of your chest as you instantly reached down to your sleeping daughter. “Oh Mellie baby.” Your weak arms scooped your sleeping baby, you kept her firmly against your chest as you moved back to the bed. You checked her over, making note that she wasn’t hurt - only a needle mark in her arm. It made you sick.

You kept her there in your arms for an hour, listening to hushed voices with fear in your heart. She barely woke up, forehead still warm - her fever having not broken yet. She was clammy. You were more terrified of your baby dying than you could ever be of the situation you were in.

You put Mellie on your bed for a few minutes after the first hour of being awake so you could scavenge the room for something, anything that they may have brought for you or Mellie. All you found was one of your old diaper bags with a handful of diapers, one bottle, half a bag of wipes and no medicine. You dumped it out into the raggedy quilt on the bed, pulling out all of the pockets with tears of worry in your eyes. You had nothing for her. You put what you had away, then returned to your spot - Mellie in your arms as she quietly slept.

The footsteps grew louder after a few minutes, then a door was opened - it sounded like the one at the top of the stairs. You held your baby even closer to your chest, pulling your legs up and trying to make her seem invisible. You watched as the figure you dreaded appeared - a distinctly harsher looking Lloyd Riley. He had cleaned himself up to case your house, now he was dressed in thick flannels, dark pants, and tattered boots. Clearly bundled up to fight the cold while you were left in an old t-shirt and sweatpants, your daughter in a thin onesie.

He reached the bottom of the steps, a sick smirk tugged at his lips before he spoke. “You lied to me.”

You didn’t say a word.

“You are married to my son. You’re my daughter-in-law.” He smiled. “You’re a Riley.”

Your baby moved her arm, you didn’t look down.

“That baby of yours looks so much like my Tommy when he was that small. Can I hold her?”

“No.”

“She speaks.”

“I need medicine.”

Lloyd’s arms crossed, you felt your chest grow tight with fear. “What for?”

“My baby is sick.” Your voice was quieter than before, anxiety settled in heavy increments in your body. “I almost broke the fever but then you fucking took us from our home.”

Lloyd took a step back, nodding slightly. “Fine. That’s the only thing you get to ask for.”

“I don’t care if I don’t get to ask for anything else. She needs medicine.”

He doesn’t say a thing, only turning and walking back up the steps. You heard the door slam, the deadbolt click, and the creaking footsteps. You would’ve used your energy to keep listening to him, but your daughter began to stir in your arms. You looked down at her, silent tears ran down your face.

Simon, please hurry.

•••

“Hey darling, you didn’t answer my calls yesterday or today. I know I’m probably reading too much into it and being paranoid, I’m just worried.

“I um- I’ll be going dark for a few days, and I’d like to hear your voice before then. So call me back when you can, yeah?

“I love you. Kiss the girls for me.”

Simon ended the voicemail, pulling the phone from his ear before slipping it into his pocket. The cigarette between his fingers felt heavy as he pulled it up to his lips, taking a long drag before flicking it onto the ground. He ground the cigarette butt into the tarmac before he pulled his balaclava back down, his hands gripped the rifle attached to his front.

He normally would keep his phone in his locker, but now he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He walked towards the overhang, where Soap stood with a concerned look.

“No answer?”

Simon fished the phone out from his pocket, handing it to his sergeant. “No. She’s busy with the baby.” His friend gave him a look, one Simon knew wouldn’t go away until he investigated further. But Simon was confident in the security of three operators in his home. “She’s fine. Laswell would call me and tell me if she wasn’t.”

“I gotta bad feelin’, LT.”

“Your bad feelings have been wrong before.” He stared at Soap, annoyed. He wasn’t more anxious than he already was about leaving them, why is everyone making such a big deal about it? “Soap-“

“Hurry up, Soap, put that phone in your locker.” Price barked as he marched in between Simon and the sergeant, Soap gave him one last look before disappearing back into the barracks. Price was quickly followed by Gaz, who waved for Simon to follow as well.

“Shit.” He muttered, knowing he was late. “What happened?”

“Spotted one of the goons near Piccadilly Circus.” Gaz answered, Simon began to jog towards them. “Overwatch thinks they have eyes on their hideout.”

“Let’s go get ‘em, then.”

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Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[moonmeg]

To the долбоёб who kept staring between my best friends legs while in the tram the one day she decided to wear a dress where she felt pretty again, which now made her cry at my kitchen table: Fuck. You. I hope your life will be as miserable and foul as you are.

[adiradirim]

Now that I think about it, the problem isn't that three boys can stand at a street corner and cry "Death to the Yids', but that the cry goes unobserved and unopposed, like the tinkling of a bell on a tram. Sometimes, sitting alone at home, I realize I can suddenly hear the ticking of the clock. It has been beside me all along but, either because I wasn't paying attention or because I'm accustomed to it, I don't notice it. It has got lost, along with many other familiar little noises, in a kind of silence that swallows the sound of things around. Out of this stillness, you get suddenly caught off-guard by the clock ticking with unsuspected violence and energy. The ticks strike in short, clipped beats, like the blows of tiny metal fists. It's not a clock any more, it's a machine gun. The sound covers everything. fills the room, grates on your nerves. I hide it in the wardrobe - it resounds even from there. I smother it beneath a pillow - the sound continues, distant and vehement. There's no cure but to resign yourself. You have to wait. After a while, by some miracle, the attack is over, the cogs settle down, the second hand relaxes. You can no longer hear it: the ticking has blended back into the general silence of the house, merged with the general hum of all the other objects. Exactly the same thing happens with that age-old call for death, which is always present somewhere on Romanian streets, but audible only at certain moments. Year after year it resounds in the ear of the common man, who is indifferent, in a hurry, with other things on his mind. Year after year it rumbles and echoes in street and byway, and nobody hears it. And one day, out of nowhere, behold how it suddenly pierces the wall of deafness around it, and issues from every crack and from under every stone. Out of nowhere? Well, not really. What is required is a period of exhaustion, of stress, of tense expectancy, a period of disillusionment. And then the unheeded voices are audible again."

Mihail Sebastian, Two Thousand Years (trans. Philip Ó Ceallaigh), originally published 1934, Romania

[thefluffyrailway-official]

𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 -𝐩𝐭 𝟏- (𝐀𝐥𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 "𝐇𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐡")

«How is she here...?»

«Why does she look like that...?»

«Wasn't she scrapped...?»

«What's going on...?»

That kind of thoughts tormented Henrietta's mind, as she stared at the curious blonde wooled coach with strange sheep-like legs.

She knew who she was at the moment she saw her. There was no doubts on it.

-Hannah...- She whispered.

The yellow coach recognized that voice, of course she would! It was her older sister! But still, no words came out of her mouh, just a little gasp as she tried to look back to Henrietta.

An awkward silence filled the air at the Steamworks.

Victor and Kevin approached at the reddish coach surreptitiously, waiting for someone to say something.

-Do you know her dear?- Toby asked in confusion.

After a few seconds, Henrietta finally answered trying to hide her cracking voice.

-O-Of course!- She smiled. -She's my younger sister... I've never thought I would be able to see her again after... Well...- The maroon-eyed explained while some tears ran through her furry grey face.

The brown tram engine smiled a bit, feeling kinda nervous and guilty about what happened to his sister in-law a few moments ago though. But he was still so glad to see Henrietta that happy for seeing her sister.

-Yeah... Same here sis...- Added Hannah forcing a smile while a slight growl came out of her throat.

-Are you okay Hannah? Have you gone too fast again?- Henrietta purred while she smiled at her sister.

-How did you know? Did i get better showing my troubles?- Hannah faked a laugh, trying to not sound mad at her sister, in which she was successful.

Henrietta answered with another fake laugh, knowing what she really meant.

-Aw Hannah. You and your jokes...-

Victor frowned, noticing something was wrong between the coach sisters. In what seemed to be the only one, as both the young crane and the tram responded with a small laugh.

-Well, there's no need to worry, we'll soon have her fixed up and looking good as new. Better than new.- He said.

-Oh... Thank you... -Hannah answered with a much kinder tone.

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

-I'm glad to have you back Henrietta- Toby purred as they both left the Steamworks.

-Me too Toby- She whispered almost unable to hold back her tears.

-I'm sure Hannah has learn a lesson today. And next time she'll want to go a little slower- He smiled.

But no one answered...

Toby waited for his coach to answer, but there was no sound coming from her excepting the sound of her wheels...

-Don't you think so Hennie?- He asked looking (as he could) at her.

Again... No one answered...

-Henrietta? Is everything okay?- The cracking voice of her elderly guard, Lyra, caught the tram's attention.

-Mhm... Everything fine...- The she-coach sobbed.

Toby gasped in worry.

-Are... Are you crying?- He asked.

-No... No... You don't need to worry...- Henrietta said, again, trying to hold back her tears, which was impossible at this point...

-Then why are you like that?- Asked Lyra.

She just looked downtrying to find something convincent to tell them.

-It was Hannah. It's been so long since i didn't see her... And i think i've got a bit emotional... - She smiled.

Toby smiled in relief.

-Oh.. I thought something was wrong...- He said.

-Sorry for worrying you... I know i don't act like this very often...And it can still be a bit strange to you...- She sighed while a slight blush ran across her face.

-Hey, it's okay. I understand how you must feel. I would react the same or worse if I saw my siblings again.- Toby said in a comforting tone. -You missed her so much right?-

She nodded slowly.

-Yes... You don't know how much i did... - The reddish coach answered.

«But still, i will never forgive myself for what happened»

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

Meanwhile, back at the Steamworks.

Victor and Kevin were trying to find out what exactly Hannah was. And if it was better to get a vet for her.

-Excuse me for asking but... Could you tell me what made you look like that?- The garnet engine asked.

Hannah looked at him.

-Hmm... I'm not sure...- She answered -I just lost consciousness one day, and when I came back I already looked like this. It was less than 20 years ago, though, I can barely remember...- The yellow coach looked down. She may not remember what changed her. But she remembered perfectly all of that hell she lived the last 4 years.

That lost look in her bright blue eyes...

That silence after saying each sentence...

There was no doubt. Something in her was surely wrong.

Victor wasn't sure if he should ask her what was wrong. His curiosity almost forced him to do it though.

-She looks a lot like a sheep boss! Maybe we can fix her like those animal doctors do with real sheep!- Kevin squeaked while he clumsilly approached to the lime-eyed engine.

Hannah giggled. Kevin wasn't the first one to think she was a sheep.

A bunch of beautiful memories filled the icy-eyed coach's mind. Making her calm down a bit.

-That won't be possible Kevin. We are not vets, and the steamworks are not made for healing animals i'm afraid.- Victor shook his head. While the golden crane looked down, kinda dissapointed.

Then, thanks to his creativity and small knowledge about animals, Kevin ran outside the steamworks, he stayed under a tree for a few minutes, while his driver seemed to be collecting some things.

Hannah and Victor looked at eachother in confusion.

«What is he doing now?» the garnet engine thought whle he tried to understand what the crane wanted to do.

-Perhaps if we put these branches around the broken leg and then bandage it, it might heal more easily. My driver told me he did the same thing when he broke his arm on a mountain ride.- He proposed holding a bunch of branches on his hook.

Victor was amazed. It can actually work! And if it does, could that mean that Hannah was a real animal?

In any case. They should start working on Hannah's broken leg, siding scratches and other wounds.

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

-Finally at home. And which makes it better, we're here together. - Toby said with a smile while he laid down, flattering his wheels as much as his pistons allowed him

Again... Silence...Only the sound of crickets chirping outside the shed was heard that night.

The wooden tram engine looked at his partner with curiosity.

-...- Luckilly, the shadow that Henrietta's roof made covered all her face. Hiding her tears and expression of shock.

-Good night Hennie. I love you. - He chuckled innocently after leaning slightly towards his partner's side.

It was around half an hour later that Henrietta managed to fall asleep and try to forget.

But once you remember what torments you...

It will take a while to forget it again...

~Henrietta...~

That was the first thing the reddish coach heard and what made her wake up from her sweet dream.

A ghostly and grisly voice called her from... nowhere?

It was true that her vision was quite blurry as she just woke up... But there was no one else than Toby and herself in the shed.

Henrietta thought it was just her imagination because she was a bit tired... So she closed her eyes again...

~Henrietta...!~ She quickly opened her eyes as the voice intensified it's volume.

She looked at Toby, and tried to call him to ask if he could also hear that voice.

But no sound came out of her throat, no matter how hard she tried to make a sound or even scream his name. She felt like she suddenly became mute.

«What's going on...? Why can't i talk? Is this just a nightmare?? No... No... It can't be... I'm awake. Toby is here. It must be real!... But then...what is happenning to me?!» As more she thought about it, more desperate she felt. But it was impossible not to think about it.

She was hearing voices and couldn't make any sound... Everyone would worry about it and try to find an explanation in that situation.

~All this years... You forgot... All this years... You forgot...~ More voices chanted the same phrase, making the situation even more disturbing.

Henrietta began to pant, terrified and confused. She had not experienced anything like this before.

She didn't know what the voices meant. What did she forgot? A promise? Someone?

She tried to shake herself a bit to wake up her mate.

But she couldn't move...

Even tho she's kinda used to not being able to move, she couldn't believe this was happening.

Her breathing became increasingly, to the point of start hyperventilating.

~You abandoned me... You betrayed me... You condemned me... You made me lose EVERYTHING... ~ The voices grew louder and louder. Making it almost impossible to understand them. Tormenting the poor maroon-eyed coach, who couldn't do anything to stop those voices.

«No...No... Please stop!! I can't handle this! Not again!» She begged in her mind still trying to talk. at least a little bit.

Suddenly, the voices disappeared. And a glowing figure appeared in front of her.

~Sister...~ This voice was different to the others... It was calmer, much calmer.

Henrietta looked up to her, seeing Hannah on that pale-white shiny figure in front of her...

«Hannah...?» She thought in confusion while her breathing slowly came back to normal.

~Henrietta... It is your fault...~ The glowing Hannah said as she sat near her sister.

The reddish coach shook her head checking if she had heard correctly.

~It is your fault...~ Hannah repeated.

~No one deserves such a callous traitor...capable of abandoning her loved ones to go flirt with a stranger...~ She whispered.

Henrietta couldn't believe what she was hearing. Did her sister really think that about her?

Hannah could be impulsive and impatient. But she would never lie to her own sister.

So it must be true...

~Have that in mind... You're the worst sister anyone could have... I HATE YOU! and I will never forgive you for this!~ Hannah hissed as she got up and ran away, dissapearing in the shadows of the night.

At that point, again, it was impossible to the reddish to hide her feelings, she didn't even try, just closed her eyes and started crying all that she couldn't since she saw Hannah.

At least, she wasn't mute anymore...

But those creepy voices returned, calling her name in unison.

~Henrietta... Henrietta... ~

This time.. They sounded much deeper than before.

Suddenly, all those voices became one, one that the reddish coach knew perfectly.

-Henrietta!- Toby exclaimed in worry and fear, seeing that she didn't answer.

When she finally came to her senses, she responded with a simple gasp. Unable to process what had just happened.

-Hennie what happened?! Are you okay?? You're shaking too much.- He asked.

-She hates me...She hates me!!- The maroon-eyed coach cried. She was sure what she saw on that nightmare was true. And Hannah actually thinks that about her.

-What? Who hates you? - Toby was getting more and more confused with every word his mate said. If the poor guy was already bad at noticing the feelings of others even with explanations, without them he didn't have the slightest idea of ​​what to say or do.

-I... I don't understand what do you mean- He said.

-Hannah! She will never forgive what i did to her...- Henrietta flattered her wheels while she looked down.

-Hannah? Oh i knew something was wrong between you two...- Toby sighed. «Okay, okay, you must help her this time... What was that... What does she always say when you are nervous... » He tried to remember.

-It's okay. It's okay dear, just breath and calm down, you can do this. -

At the moment he knew that wasn't what he was meant to say.

-Huh?- Henrietta looked at him, kinda confused, but at least she wasn't crying anymore.

-Ah! Wait no! I-I mean... You don't need to worry!- He squeaked red with shame. -Oh dear Lady... How ridiculous... I'm the worst emotional support...- he sighed again. -Sorry darling. I just wanted to help... It looks like you are much better than me in that...-

Henrietta stared at him for a few seconds. Then she suddenly started laughing. Like if she forgot all what happened in the last 5 minutes.

-What is it now?- Asked Toby.

-Nothing nothing. It was... It was just so funny and cute how you tried to confort me- She giggled.

He smiled too when he saw her looking good again.

-Awh, no no, you are the cute one, specially when you smile- The tram engine giggled as he rubbed his side against her affectionately.

-I'm so sorry i didn't told you before... It was all so sudden that I wasn't able to process so many emotions at once...- Said Henrietta.

-Hey, it's fine, you don't need to tell me right now if you don't want to.- He purred while he closed his eyes.

She nodded slowly. She wanted to tell him, he needs to have some context if something like this happens again...

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

-And... Ta-Da!!- Kevin squeaked while he took little leaps of emotion. -How do you feel?? Better??-

Hannah looked at her broken hoof, now surrounded by sticks and carefully bandaged.

-Yeah... Yeah, sort of. But i can't move it, and it still hurts...- She answered.

The garnet engine looked at the little golden crane. He could be amazing at healing engines. But it looks like Kevin is much better at healing animals.

-Ah don't worry. That's normal. The pain won't disappear inmediatly. And i think it's better to you not to move your leg. You need to rest. -He explained.

-I agree on that, the best way to heal an injury, both in animals and engines, is resting- Said Victor.

Hannah nodded while she placed her healthy hooves under her bright-golden thicc wool. Giving her a loaf-like shape.

-Do you need anything else?- He asked tenderly

-Don't worry, i'm fine.- She answered while placing her head on the floor as much as she could.

Victor nodded.

-If you need something, you just have to call us.- He said.

She nodded back.

-And since when do you know that much about medicine buddy?- The lime-eyed engine asked Kevin, in a whisper to not disturb Hannah's dreams.

The young crane just shrugged while he let out a little giggle.

The golden she-coach gazed at the two engines leaving that place, heading towards their sheds. Then, when she didn't see them anymore, she looked at the sky. A beautiful, starry night sky.

-We used to watch the stars together when we were newbuilts...- Hannah whispered to herself, while those shining spots were reflected in her bright blue eyes. -I hope someday she will forgive me...- She sighed.

-I'm sure she will Hannah. But you don't need to worry about that now. Tomorrow will be another day, and you two will be able to talk a bit more calmly- Her guard said while she patted her siding.

Hannah closed her eyes, right before a storm of memories invaded her mind once again...

But one in specific caught her attention.

~Hannah? Irene told me you were at the Steamworks, Are you okay?? What happened?!~ A much younger version of her sister was in front of her in that dream.

«Oh... Now I remember this... Heh. My first speed incident. How could i forget it? »

~Yeah, i'm fine sis. Just a bit sore hehe. But it was fun!~ The child-like Hannah giggled.

The reddish one frowned really upset.

~Don't you dare to worry me again like this!!~ She squeaked.

~Okay okaaay... Sorry Hennie i will be more careful next time. But just because i don't want to see you like this.~ The smile in her face... That was something everyone on their old railway agreed was characteristic of her. Maybe because she was very young and unexperienced, maybe because of her enthusiasm and optimism, she was always happy and full of energy. Unlike her older sisters, who were much more calm and a little shy.

But now... Where was that smile?

Another memory hit her right after asking that to herself.

~Where are we going Hannah? Is this really safe? I can't see!~ Said a little blue and yellow tram engine. He was wearing a white lily on one of his windows, and a blindfold was covering his eyes.

«Could... Could it be...» Hannah thought.

~Calm down Gorath. We're almost there.~ The Hannah of that memory still seemed to be the same happy and cheerful coach of the last memory.

But this time it was different...

When the driver made the tram engine stop, they all were in a beautiful lily field.

Both the driver and the fireman got out of Gorath's cabine to remove the blindfold.

He gasped while tears filled his bright golden eyes.

~It was Hannah's idea...~ Said his driver between sobs.

~You didn't think I was going to let you go without taking you where you always wanted to go, did you?~ She said.

~A lily field... Those flowers are my favourites...Oh thank you thank you THANK YOU!!! You're the best Hannah!!~ Gorath cried pure joy tears while he shaked backwards and forwards.

He was going to be sended to the scrapyard in a few days...Hannah thought he deserved to be happy just one last time.

Tears started to silently run out of Hannah's closed eyes. Right before the worst of all the memories hit her.

~Why does it have to hurt so much?! What is happening to me Oisin?! WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME?!~ Another version of herself, a bit older this time, cried while visible blood came out of her eyes, nose and mouth.

Next to her, a copper-brown he-coach with pale cream spots around its sides, was trying to comfort her through all the pain she was feeling.

~Shh shh... It will worth it sweet lemon. It's okay.~ He said tenderly after giving her a comforting lick on her cheek.

~Please... Please just stay with me! If i will die don't want to do it alone!~ She cried again.

~You won't die Hannah, trust me, you won't die.~ Oisin giggled.

~But you will stay...will you?~ She sobbed before coughing more and more blood.

~I will sweetie, till the end of our lives, we will be together.~ He said.

«Oh Oisin... My love... If only the brakes on that engine hadn't failed that day...» Hannah sinked her face on her chest fur to hide her sobs.

That was surely going to be a long night for the sisters...

𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝...

(AU inspo creds: @steam-beasts <3)

[harlowarchives]

❝ 𝟑𝟎𝟎𝟓 !

hi children! ok sooo, this number one wasn't re-read, two i wrote this in thirty minutes but honestly so cute :333 enjoy & remember I 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 YOU.

↳ listen to xo by beyonce, 3005 by childish gambino & stay by rihanna.

𝐍𝐎 warning today, all fluff & language!

You tapped your foot anxiously in a meeting that was running much longer than you’d expected you knew Jack would board his flight in 5 minutes, he was going across the globe and you were terrified for the future of your relationship. “Excuse me, Y/N can you finish?” Your boss spoke you didn't even know you'd stopped talking “I'm so sorry, but I really need to go.” You smiled nervously at the panel, and you bolted out of the room pulling your hair out of the bun that was being held together by a pencil, traffic got worse & worse the closer you got to the airport you were furious, you banged your head against the steering wheel tears of anger streaming down your face. The traffic began to speed up but it was 10 minutes after the flight left you ran every light and every stop sign you were going to see him you needed to. You walked into the airport & swiped up and down on your phone trying to find the picture he'd sent you of the ticket you took two trams & 5 escalators. You were riding on sheer luck, you walked around searching for him something caught your eyed you saw a tall man with an ear-x-tacy hoodie his mouth fell open he bent his knees slightly opening his arms as you ran to him harnessing your legs around his waist he quickly claimed your lips, tightly gripping your waist.

“What are you doing here pumpkin?” He laughed out in pure astonishment, he smiled pressing his lips against yours. “I needed to say bye, but I thought you boarded?” you looked slightly confused your hand pushing his curls back. “Nope, it's late can't believe you went through all this trouble I know you had a meeting.” You shrugged “I don't care as long as I get to see your face before you go J, no job means more than you. Nothing means more to me than you, you are my entire world. I’d do anything for you.” You smiled getting emotional tears streaming down your cheeks that were already stained from the exhausting ride to the airport. You heard a voice call his flight number which caused you to cry even harder “I'm coming with you, I'll fly out tomorrow.” He wiped your tears and then nodded “No, you aren't going anywhere, do you hear me?” You tilted your head in confusion “Look at me pumpkin, your life is here. I'll call you every hour of every day, look you're my everything Y/N I’ll be back ok?” He set you down “Pinky promise?” you sobbed as he held out his pinky “Pinky promise.” He smiled fighting back the tears, you wrapped your pinky around his. He pulled out a crumpled napkin and a pen scribbling he shoved it in your pocket and then ran off blowing you a kiss. You waved tears washing away your makeup he waved back now you were by yourself.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you sat in your reclined seat, you felt a lump in your seat you pulled the torn napkin from your pocket reading the note that read ‘Miles won’t separate us, trust me.’ You smiled sobbing harder.

🏷️ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ⁱ : @lexxlovesjack @iknowdatsrightbih @iheartharlow @livsters @honeyharlows @killatravtramp @jackmanduh

[tonberry-yoda]

Write for Leon Scott Kennedy coward 😳

The End - Leon Scott Kennedy

notes - THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR MAKING MY BRAINROT WORSE! You get a long fic now tee hee. This was so satisfying to write tbh. I loved RE2 and love Leon, so I was very happy to write this <333

word count - 2,756

WARNINGS - blood, SPOILERS FOR RE2, not proofread lolol

Wounds from Lickers, Zombies, spare glass shards, and god only knows what covered your body. You looked like a wreck who was tired and a little dead inside, but it was over. You made it out of that hellhole they called Raccoon City and were now onto a new, and hopefully better life.

"I could really use a shower," Claire laughed, picking a stick out of Sherry's hair.

"Tell me about it." You agreed, wiping what you couldn't tell was dirt or sewage off of your shoulder. You felt disgusting, but you knew that whenever you got to a shower that it was going to be the best shower of all time.

You and Claire were lucky you could still be laughing and smiling after everything that happened. And Leon... well, he had been through hell and back with it being his first day as a cop and all. You felt bad for him. He went through loss after loss and you had no clue what to say.

He was sitting in the corner of the train cart, crying. You wanted more than anything to go cheer him up or something, but how on Earth were you supposed to do that.

Apparently though, Claire saw that you were eyeing the crying cop and nudged your arm with her elbow, signaling that you should probably go talk to him. She and Sherry decided to head to another cart to look around a bit.

You took a deep breath and walked over to the blonde boy, putting your hand on his back. "You were very brave out there," you told him in a soft voice, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

He looked up at you a little shocked, tears staining his puffy red eyes. "No way. If anything you were the bravest here. Me and Claire were kinda prepared for anything, but you? You were just living life and got sucked into this shit."

"But I'm okay now. And you're okay! We did great out there!"

Leon just nodded and stared off into space, little tears flowing down his cheeks.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" You asked.

Leon turned to you again. Seeing him cry was about to make you cry.

"It's my fault she's gone."

"Who? Ada?" You had stuck with Leon his whole mission helping him through stupid puzzles and beating the shit out of psycho dogs. Ada was someone you met on the mission and immediately got a bad vibe from. You knew she wasn't FBI when you met her, you just didn't have the heart to tell Leon. He really seemed to like that girl. And it didn't matter how jealous you were in the little tram where she kissed him.

Leon nodded, tears welling back up in his eyes. "I could've pulled her up if I didn't get so hurt. She's gone now... because of me."

You put your hand on Leon's back. "Leon, look, she was a crazy mercenary, there's a huge, like GIANT chance that she's okay. She probably had a grappling hook in her bra or something."

That actually made Leon laugh a bit, which surprised you. "How's your arm?" You asked, wanting to quickly change the subject.

"Better." He stretched out his arm, which took some work, but he barely winced.

"Good!" You smiled and gave Leon one more check over to make sure he wasn't in any more need for medical attention. "It looks way better!"

"Yeah, well injuries always look better than they feel." Leon chuckled and sat back to be more comfortable. None of you knew where this train was going to lead, but you were just happy to know that you would be out of that awful town.

"You're really strong, you know that?" Leon told you.

You were shocked to hear that if you were being honest, so you turned to Leon with red cheeks. "Where did that come from?"

"I mean, I already explained it earlier, come on! You've been through a lot with me. Thanks for that."

You just nodded, still thinking about Ada. You were never the jealous type, but all of the sudden you were and it was pissing you off. I mean, you couldn't blame all the ladies around you for liking Leon as much as you did because oh my god, he was perfect. He wanted to protect everyone, was kind, empathetic, and cute as fuck. He was everything anyone wanted in a partner and you were just mad that Ada got her hands on him first.

"I can't wait to get some nice clean clothes." Leon sighed, pulling you out of your mind.

"Right?!" Even thinking about the warm embrace of a blanket was making you cozy, but clean clothes? That sounded like heaven right then.

"I found a crap ton of money at the station and that should be enough to get us a couple of hotel rooms and some clean clothes until we find something better." Leon pulled out wads of cash and your jaw dropped. You knew that some of the zombies would have cash on them and you had to admit, you did take some, but you weren't expecting Leon, the cute cuddly rookie, to take any.

"Leon, did you steal that?!"

His face flushed bright red. "I-I.... They.... I just.... We needed it and uh...."

"I'm just playing with you, Kennedy." You playfully slapped his back and he cleared his throat, a little embarrassed.

"Hey guys?" Claire stuck her head back into the cart with a smile. "Sorry if I'm interrupting your flirting, but it looks like we're about to come to a stop. Looks like we're outside of Raccoon City too!"

You laughed at Claire and turned to fine Leon blushing, which made you blush too. "Alright, we'll get prepared."

"You better," Claire winked. "Because clean clothes and a bed sound like heaven itself."

The train came to a halt in an unknown area, but when you got off of the train, the world looked happy again. It was no longer the dead of night and was now early morning, where the air smelled fresh and you could hear birds chirping. It was fantastic and you didn't mind the tears that were rolling down your cheeks. The train took off behind all of you with a loud whoosh and you were now somewhere new, hoping that you wouldn't hear anymore zombies.

"Come on you guys!!!" Claire ran off to a city that was off in the distance, grabbing Sherry's hand. "Let's go!! Are you seriously gonna wait all day?!"

You and Leon looked at each other with a smile and ran after Claire to the city. Stepping in there any other day would probably be hell, with people cussing each other out and pushing each other around, but when all of you stepped in there, it was amazing. There were living breathing humans just doing their every day normal routines. It was like everything was back to normal.

You clung to Leon's arm and smiled. "Leon, can you believe it?"

He was smiling like an idiot before running into some random Target. People were looking at you like you were crazy, while others whispered about hearing what happened in Raccoon City, surprised there were survivors.

You didn't care either way, it's not like you were paying attention. Instead, you just grabbed everything you needed. Water, food, underwear, shoes, socks, clothes, normal everyday items that would be so regular to everyone, but seemed like jewels and riches to you.

You walked up to Leon with a stacked cart and a smile. "I'm about ready to check out!"

Leon looked at your stack with wide eyes. "Damn, you really went ham down those aisles, huh?"

You nodded. "I'm just thankful I had a crap ton in my savings so you don't have to pay for any of it. Thank god they have an ATM here."

"Oh, awesome!" Leon was looking at a few shirts and you pulled one off of it's hanger, handing it to him.

"You would look good in this. I'll meet you outside, okay? Tell Claire the same!"

Waiting outside in a Target parking lot wasn't ideal, but it felt heavenly out, so you weren't mad in the slightest. Honestly, you didn't care at all that you looked pathetic, you were just happy this wasn't Raccoon City.

Claire quickly ran out of the Target with her arm in Sherry's. "Let's go get that hotel room!!!" She quickly darted off and Leon ran out of the Target, limping.

"Dammit, Claire, hold on!!"

You grabbed onto Leon's arm and chuckled. "She's fine, Leon. We'll catch up. She pointed at the hotel she wants to stay in, and it's not too far off. I'm just glad she has the energy to take care of that kid right now."

Leon nodded. "Same. I can barely walk without feeling like I'm going to pass out."

You and Leon walked to the hotel, laughing about the memories you had of Mr. X trying to follow you around. Even though those scared the shit out of you in the moment, you couldn't help but laugh now.

The hotel was nice. It was bright white and covered in fancy red carpets. You looked like a bunch of homeless people.... well, you guessed you were now.

"Me and Sherry are gonna share a room," Claire said, grabbing both sides of the girls shoulders.

"Then I guess that means y/n and I will have separate rooms. I'll go pay."

Your heart dropped and immediate panic filled your body.

"W-Wait." You pulled Leon off to the side, your heart pounding for some reason.

"What's wrong?" Leon looked at you with concern and held your shoulders.

"I... Can we share a room?" You looked up at him and he smiled.

"Of course."

"I just don't know if I can sleep alone after all that and we've already been through so mu-"

Leon placed his index finger on your lips and giggled. "I don't need an excuse from you, y/n. I understand."

You waited eagerly and patiently for Leon to get each of your rooms.

"I'm gonna shower so hard, you don't even understand." Claire said, stretching, each of her bones making a small pop sound.

"Me too." You sighed, imagining the warm water running down your back.

"Here's your key, Claire. Don't lose it."

Claire snorted. "As if. Of course I'm not gonna lose it. Let's go Sherry!" They ran up the stairs, getting odd looks from other patrons and staff, but they didn't seem to care.

"You ready, y/n?"

You nodded, taking the elevator with Leon.

"I'm so glad that's over." He smiled, clicking the elevator button.

"Me too."

"I still can't believe how amazing you were back there." Leon gave you a little pat on the back.

"Well, for it being your first day, Kennedy, I'd say you killed it."

"Literally."

You both burst out into laughter. You were surprised you could still do that, but very happy about it.

"You're amazing, Leon." You set down your target bag on the elevator floor and pulled him into your arms.

He sighed, tickling your neck a bit and held you by your waist. "You're amazing."

The elevator dinged, interrupting your hug, but you couldn't help but bolt out of there and down the long hallways.

"You're going the wrong way, y/n!" Leon called out, pointing down the other end of the hall.

"Which room is it?" Before Leon could answer, you glanced at the key and took off, finding the room rather quickly. You waited like an impatient puppy and bobbed up and down as Leon opened the door.

Leon opened the door to a nice clean room that smelled slightly perfumey, but much better than rotting zombie.

As you were searching the room, you were satisfied with everything. It was cozy, roomy, had a TV, a clean bathroom, and...

"Leon?"

"Yeah?" Leon was already quick to unpack his stuff, and stuffed his mouth with chips.

"There's only one bed."

His face flushed pink. "Y-Yeah... I.... I thought it would be nice." He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "Look.... I don't want to be that far from you, okay? I don't know why. I still feel like I have to protect you and-" You interrupted him by placing your index finger on his lips this time.

"I don't need an excuse, Leon. I really don't mind. Now, I'm gonna take a quick shower. Sorry you gotta stay musty for a little while longer."

"Eh, it's fine. It'll make the shower more worth it."

Worth it was definitely the right words to use. When you stepped into the shower, ignoring the dark red that poured off of you and the black water that formed at your feet, it was really heaven. It was the best shower you had ever taken, and you have never felt so clean in your entire life.

When you stepped out, you immediately tossed out your old clothes and put on something fresh and some pajamas that made you feel cute. It didn't really matter since you were about to pass out soon, but feeling nice was something you enjoyed and something you actually needed after all of that.

You stepped out of the bathroom and chugged some water, not even noticing that Leon had run straight past you to take a shower himself. He really deserved it though, so you didn't blame him.

You laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a while. What a goddamn day. You really couldn't believe you survived all of that. It was a shit show, and for a while, before you met Leon, you didn't have anything but a metal pipe to beat the zombies off with. If not for that rookie cop, you wouldn't be here right now.

You were more thankful than he could ever know.

"Holy shit," Leon stepped out of the bathroom, drying off his hair with a little towel, in a giant shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. "That was the best shower ever."

You sat up with a smile. "Wasn't it?!"

Leon smiled when he saw you, throwing down the mini towel on a nearby table before jumping on the bed next to you. "You know," he told you, getting comfortable on the bed. "You're actually really cute not covered in blood. Wait, that came out wrong... You were cute with the blood... but uh.... shit, I messed up, can I restart?"

You giggled. "Go ahead. Restart."

"You know," Leon looked at you with the most loving smile ever. "You're really cute."

You blushed. "Says the cutest guy in the world."

"Aw, shucks, you don't mean that, do you?"

"Of course I mean that, Leon."

He smiled at you and pulled you into his arms, laying back with you on the bed. "I'm glad I found you out there." He said softly.

"I'm glad you found me."

You two sat in silence for a while, just laying in each other's arms. After being through all of that, you didn't realize how sore you were and only now was it kicking in. But thank god you had a bed.

Breaking the silence, Leon wrapped his arms around you tighter. "I never want to let you go, y/n." He whispered in your ear, placing a kiss on the lobe.

"But...." You hated yourself for asking this. "What about Ada?"

"What about her?" Leon sat up a bit, letting go of you.

"I.... You two kissed. It seemed like you really liked her."

"Ada kissed me," Leon reminded you. "We weren't that close. I knew you for longer, even if it was a couple of hours. Plus, Ada betrayed us. She was using me. You, y/n, you really care about me. I just want to protect you.... at all costs. If you'll let me."

You cupped Leon's face in your hands and smiled. "Of course I'll let you. But know I want to protect you every now and again."

Leon couldn't help himself, he pushed forward and planted his lips onto yours, pushing you right down on the bed. You quickly smiled into the kiss and pulled him closer until he was right on top of you.

He placed kiss after kiss after kiss onto you until you both passed out, snoring.

You didn't care what was ahead. As long as you had Leon, you would be fine.

~~~~~

resident evil masterlist | pinned post

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

[screechingjellyfishnight]

The second time I flew, I flew out of the Detroit Metropolitan Airport. I was detained because I had residue from a gummy on my pants. I was 19, autistic, and flying home alone because I had gone to Michigan to care for my father over the summer. They had two separate men Pat me down, they went through both of my carry ons (Delta lets you have a carry on and a purse), and then they went through my laptop after aggressively questioning me. They tried to get me to say why I was in Michigan (this is called Baiting. They try to get you to admit to doing something wrong. I hadn’t. I wasn’t doing anything illegal) at this point, I start sobbing because I KNOW what’s happening, alright? I knew they were trying to find a reason to arrest me. They ask me again, almost screaming at me, and I explain, in detail, that I went to Michigan to care for my sick father, and now I’m going home to Virginia for college to go home and be with my mother and stepfather. They ask me what school I went to, they ask me the same 6 questions about 7 or 8 times and try to look for any inconsistencies (which there wouldn’t be, as I was LEGITIMATELY in Michigan to care for my sick father. I flew back literally 2 months later to care for him after he got back surgery)

They kept going through my stuff, while I cried, and time ticked by and I really thought I was going to miss my flight, and I almost did. Did you know that cysts can pop up as weapons on their machine? That’s why I had to be patted down twice, on top of the weed residue. I have a cystic thing going on with my thighs (basically I just get cysts randomly). Anyway, fuck the Detroit airport, Dulles is better. They have a tram and everything and super nice TSA people who don’t do the whole “get in your face and shriek” thing.

Questions they asked:

1.) full name

2.) why did you come to Michigan?

3.) where are you going?

4.) what school are you going to?

5.) what is your profession?

6.) why are you leaving Michigan?

Seriously. They asked me these 6 questions about 7 separate times. They also asked:

What business do you have in Virginia? (While holding my Virginia ID) (I’ve lived here since I was 9. )

How long have you been a resident in Virginia? (15 years as off 2025)

Have you ever been Arrested? (No)

Do you have any outstanding warrants?

(No)

So…if you ever get detained do NOT start crying because it makes it like 10x worse. They do not understand Autism or Anxiety. They do not care if it is only your second time flying and they don’t care if you miss your flight. Answer their questions and stfu.

[enbouton]

I want to discuss that courtroom scene, but before I do, I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask you about the scene on the airport shuttle in “Waterworks” where Kim loses it. You only did two takes of it, is that right?

Yes. With two cameras in the tram. We might have even shoved three in there because he was trying to get as many angles as you can in as few takes. I didn’t know we’d only do two takes until I arrived. I prepared as best I could to have to do many, many, many, many takes. That is not because any of our directors are sadistic, but it’s because the visual vocabulary of the show is many angles on the same thing. So, just technically, that requires you doing it over and over and over and over.

So I was prepared. For me, that means not just hoping I can go over to a corner and drum up some painful memory of my real life. I’m all for anybody’s style of working, I just know that I can’t do that for 36 takes. So what I wanted to do was think about the different pieces that she’s crying about here, because it is not just about one moment. She’s crying for the entire Shakespearean tragedy of Jimmy McGill and of Kim Wexler and of their relationship and of Chuck and of Howard and of people that try to be a good person and how hard that fight could be in day-to-day real life.

Then there’s the actual 24 hours that she’s had since getting Jimmy’s call. I think she still loves him. I think she’s terrified for him and flew to New Mexico and lied to God knows how many people about where she was going. Didn’t pack a bag. Didn’t get any sleep. And then, there’s a progression of scenes. Being a stranger in a strange land at a courthouse that used to be her home. Looking at everything that she could have had and then letting Hamlin’s widow nail her to the stake and accepting it. We were insistent — Vince and I in conversations and then also with Peter — that Kim cannot look for sympathy in those scenes. It is not fair for her to be the one that has to be consoled in any way, which is why I’m so stoic in those scenes.

I tried to take in all of those things, then build it. I do a thing where I ask myself, “Well, where does that kind of pain live? Where does that kind of shame live? Is it the feeling of throwing up? Is it when you feel like it’s tight under your sternum? Is it when your chest gets real heavy?” We all know that feeling where you’re not sure you can breathe.

I just tried to pull all of those things, get on a bus with strangers, which made me feel so alone even though my crew was there, and now try really hard not to cry. Literally that was my plan because if you go in there and say, “I hope I can make myself cry for 30 takes,” you’ll fail. That’s too scary. I literally just put the things physically that we have all felt in extreme shame in our lives or extreme pain in our lives and then try to not let them come all the way out. As soon as you get fissures and it cracks a little bit and you fight to squash it down harder, it’ll come back at you harder. Those are the takes you ended up witnessing and then Vince said, “I think we’re good. We’re just going to do two.” And I was like, “Oh.”

I said, “We can do more. I don’t know how many I can do, but we can do more if I didn’t tell the story that’s what you want to tell.” And he said, “No, we have it exactly. We have it exactly.”

Is that a scene you can even rehearse beforehand?

Rehearse in a traditional way? No. That’s more script analysis. Super-technical stuff like, “Let’s go through everything that happened to her today so that I understand exactly what I’ve been doing for the last 24 hours. Let’s go through what went down 24 hours before that. Did I lie? Do I feel bad about that? What did I say?” Because I didn’t know if we’d shoot out of sequence, so it was important for me to imagine how it would feel walking into the courthouse and confessing those things. Is there relief? Is it just shame?

Someone asked me the other day in an interview, “Do you think Kim, over the last five, six years, has been privately crying in a closet like this away from people?” I said, “No.” The decision I made is that this is the first time she’s let any of this out. She would not let herself feel it. One, for fear that the dam would never be able to be closed up again and two, because of the compartmentalizing. You can’t rehearse it in a traditional way, but I did a lot of thinking about it and then gave myself some tactile markers that I knew that I could have as a reminder of my starting point each time when I get on the bus.

It really was late at night and I had the great fortune of being able to have my view straight ahead. They left enough space that I could stare out the window and I could see the Albuquerque skyline. They showed me the route we were going to take, so that was a bit of a rehearsal for me to just understand, “Where are people going to be near me and what will I be able to see in front of me?” And that way, I can rehearse it to the degree of understanding, “Okay, on each take, when we come around that corner and I see that skyline, let that skyline inform the life I could have had. The life that’s lost. And when I softly hear chatter to my left and my right, let that remind you of how utterly alone she is in this world.”

She feels no actual passion about the people she knows in Florida. They’re lovely. They’re nice. They’re great, but they don’t actually even know her real life. There’s one person that knows the real Kim and he is on the lam from the Feds and it was the love of her life and that’s done — I’m blathering on and on. Is any of this interesting? I’m so sorry.

My God, don’t apologize. I always love talking to you because you explain your process so clearly.

I love that. Thank you.

Also, I gripped my purse — it was on my lap and I remember telling myself, “Let it remind you of how sick to your stomach you are with what you’ve done to people,” which immediately made me start swallowing and feel, like, indigestion. I attached different physical things to different memories of Jimmy and Kim, or of the tragedy of Jimmy and his brother. And the fact that he used to be a little kid who had all this potential and he’s a brilliant lawyer. It made my heart ache, and saying goodbye to him in the breakup scene automatically makes me have a lump in my throat.

I think that’s all the prep you can do. After that, you rely on the gift that I’ve had of seven years, six seasons of some of the smartest people in the whole business telling me that when I do my homework of creating Kim and I think the thoughts, that it’s enough. That scene is terrifying on paper. I have the great fortune of the support system that I have that made me feel I’m going to be enough when I get there.

(Rhea Seehorn talking to Jen Chaney for Vulture)

[beardedmrbean]

The death toll from the floods that hit central Europe over the weekend has risen, with more casualties recorded in the Czech Republic, Poland and Austria.

In the Czech Republic, one person drowned in a stream close to the town of Bruntal in the north-east of the country, while seven people are still missing.

Four people are known to have died in Poland, although a spokesman for the interior ministry said the precise cause of death was still to be determined in at least one case.

And in Austria, two people aged 70 and 80 died in the north-east of the country. One of them, a resident of the town of Höbersdorf, was apparently trying to pump water out of his apartment when he drowned, Austrian media reported.

Eight deaths were recorded over the weekend in Poland, Romania and Austria, where a firefighter was killed during a flood rescue operation.

Although conditions have stabilised in some parts of central Europe, others are bracing themselves for more disruption and danger.

In Slovakia, the overflowing of the Danube River caused flooding in the Old Town area of the capital, Bratislava, with local media reporting that water levels exceeded 9m (30ft) and were expected to rise further.

Hungary is bracing itself for floods in the coming days. Warnings are in force along 500km (310 miles) of the Danube.

The river is rising by about a metre every 24 hours, with Budapest's mayor offering residents a million sandbags to protect against floodwaters.

Some tram lines will not operate, while roads along the river will be closed in the Hungarian capital from Monday evening. Trains between Budapest and Vienna have also been cancelled.

Prime Minister Viktor Orban said on X that he had postponed all his international obligations "due to the extreme weather conditions and the ongoing floods in Hungary".

The highest rainfall totals have been in the Czech Republic. In the north-eastern town of Jesenik, 473mm (19in) of rain has fallen since Thursday morning - five times the average monthly rainfall.

In the Austrian town of St Polten, more rain has fallen in four days than in the whole of the wettest autumn on record, in 1950.

Chancellor Karl Nehammer said the armed forces had been deployed to offer assistance to storm-hit regions. Austria's Climate Ministry said €300m (£253m) in recovery funds would be made available.

Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk said one billion zloty (£197m) would be allocated for flood victims. He added Poland would also apply for EU relief funds.

On Monday, Poland declared a state of natural disaster, making the emergency response easier and freeing up EU funds.

Villages and town were submerged in eastern Romania. Emil Dragomir, mayor of Slobozia Conachi, told media that the flooding had had a devastating impact.

"If you were here, you would cry instantly, because people are desperate, their whole lives' work is gone, there were people who were left with just the clothes they had on," he said.

Thousands of people have been evacuted in Poland, including the personnel and patients of a hospital in the town of Nysa. Roads have been badly disrupted and train traffic was suspended in many parts of the country.

On Monday morning, the mayor of Paczków in south-west Poland appealed to residents to evacuate after water began overflowing in a nearby reservoir, endangering the town.

In other parts of Poland, however, water levels are now falling, according to local officials.

The mayor of Klodzko city, Michal Piszko, told Polish media the water had receded and the indications were the worst was now over.

Video footage from Monday morning showed that city centre streets which were inundated on Sunday were now water-free, although the footage also revealed the extent of damage done to the buildings.

Where will Storm Boris go next?

More rain is expected throughout Monday and Tuesday in Austria, the Czech Republic and south-east Germany, where another 100mm could fall.

While it may still take days for the flood waters to subside, the weather will improve in central Europe from mid-week with much drier conditions.

Storm Boris will, however, now move further south into Italy, where it will reintensify and bring heavy rain. The Emilia-Romagna region is set to be worst hit, with 100-150mm of rain falling.

The record rainfall seen in central Europe has been caused by a number of factors, including climate change.

Different weather elements came together to create a “perfect storm” in which very cold air from the Arctic met warm air from the Mediterranean.

A pattern of atmospheric pressure also meant that Storm Boris was stuck in one place for a long time.

Scientists say that a warmer atmosphere holds more moisture, leading to more intense rainfall. Warmer oceans also lead to more evaporation, feeding storm systems.

For every 1C rise in the global average temperature, the atmosphere is able to hold about 7% more moisture.

[scotianostra]

On January 28th 1927 hurricane force winds struck Scotland, killing 22 and seriously injuring 150 people in Glasgow.

The following day, the Larne Times told readers that practically ‘every property in Glasgow was damaged’ - with two tenements completely destroyed. Locals described the crash of falling debris in all corners of the city.

With schools shut down, trams halted, and the telephone systems down - Glasgow was chaotic. Fifty fire engines were on hand to help the city, with eight ambulances continuously carrying the injured to hospital.

On Newark Street, a repairman was crushed by a snapped tree blown down by the winds – killing him instantly. Elsewhere in the city, several of those killed were crushed by falling masonry - such as George McDonald who was rendered unconscious by a falling chimney and died in hospital two days later.

The largest death toll was caused by the collapse of a chimney head at Marlow Street in Kinning Park, with the falling wreckage killing five people outright. The gales threw masses of solid stonework down through successive flights of the homes, tearing occupants and furniture in an avalanche towards the ground.

Two infant children miraculously escaped at Marlow Street. One child, who fell two storeys, was found among the debris - with a dummy still in its mouth, crying but unhurt.

A second child, who had been sitting in a pram on the ground floor, was unscratched by the masses of stones, plaster, and stoves which had fallen around.

Across Scotland, 22 deaths were recorded - nine of these due to the collapse of buildings. In one case, a man trying to get home by way of the train tracks to avoid falling masonry was killed by a night train.

On February 1, the Lord Provost announced the opening of a relief fund for the hurricane. He appealed to Glaswegians: “Great distress has been caused to many deserving citizens by the disastrous hurricane of last week, especially those who have bereaved and rendered homeless by the collapse of their houses, and the destruction of their furniture and other belongings.”

Elsewhere in Scotland, a horse-lorry driver was killed by a flying piece of iron from a nearby building in Dundee. An East Lothian farmer lost her life when the roof of the farm hen house collapsed on itself.

The damage in Glasgow was estimated at around £250,000, which is £16million by today's standards.

Those lost in the 1927 hurricane included; Nan Dicke (12), Hugh Gallacher (44), James Brown (46), Martian McIntyre (25), Lizzie McIntyre (8), Charles Rennie (4), James Duncan (2), George Henderson, Charles Connelly (36), George McDonald (39), and George Hunter (21).

The video shows footage from British Pathé of the aftermath of the tenement terror.

[fanfiction-butterfree]

THE NANNY NAMED LUIGI

CHAPTER II: Airplanes and Early mornings

Koopa Man: This is your pilot speaking. Thank you for flying Air Goomba. We should be arriving at Shadow City International Airport in just under 5 hours. The skies are relatively clear so we expect only a slight amount of turbulence. 

Luigi sighed as he stared out of the airplane window. In just 7 hours he'd be at Bowser's Castle to act as the nanny for the Koopalings and their brother Bowser Junior. He still didn't know how his brother managed to convince him to take the job. Then again he hadn't managed to get a job since he'd been fired by his fiance, so maybe he was just open to any suggestion.  

Goomba Steward: The emergency exits are located there and there. 

The goomba gestured towards the orange colored emergency exits.

The green dressed Mario brother looked around the cabin. 

There were Toads on their way to vacation. 

Business Koopas on their way home. 

Humans who would transfer to a plane headed to the Luncheon Kingdom for a wedding. 

And a few others whose goals varied from migration to a short vacation. 

As the plane's engines revved up, and the fasten seatbelt sign went on, the emerald clad human closed his eyes, hoping to get some sleep before he arrived at his destination. 

The means people used to travel in this world were as diverse as the beings that inhabited it. 

There were cars, bicycles, motorcycles, and hot air balloons. Trams, buses, trains, and blimps. There were planes, ships, koopa copters, and spaceships. There were things I had yet to mention and that most people of our world had yet to imagine. 

But of all the methods used to traverse distances, the most famous was the warp pipe. A technological marvel that could get you from A to B in a fraction of the time it took all but the fastest commercial planes. 

It was, sadly, also the least comfortable, most expensive to build, and hardest to maintain form of transportation. Which is why it was generally only built when money was no option. Such as in certain government buildings so doctors, politicians, military, aid workers, and refugees could easily get to an allied nation or a nearby province. Or temporarily in the case sporting events, or kidnappings. 

Teenage Male Koopa: GIMME THAT! 

Slightly Younger Male Koopa: NO IT'S MINE! 

Teenage Male Koopa: YOU DON'T EVEN USE IT! 

Much Younger Male Koopa: I'M TELLING DAD!

Bowser woke up like he did every morning to the sound of his children arguing over something. 

Teenage Male Koopa & Slightly Younger Male Koopa: DON'T YOU DARE!! 

Much Younger Male Koopa: DAD! 

In this case the argument was between three of his least favorite kids. 

Even Younger Male Koopa: IGGY AND LEMMY ARE FIGHTING AGAIN! 

Iggy & Lemmy: SHUT UP LARRY!

Larry started crying

Bowser: KNOCK IT OFF OR I'M SENDING YOU ALL TO BOARDING SCHOOL ON THE MOON! 

There was a moment of silence before the three brothers started laughing. 

Bowser sighed. 

He knew he wouldn't send them to boarding school, and they knew he wouldn't send them to boarding school, but at least they stopped fighting and that was all he really wanted. 

Bowser got up and looked in the mirror. After a month without Kamek's help, he looked and felt tired. He'd grown a beard, the same shade of red as his mane. Normally he'd shave it, but he felt too tired to even try to. 

He put on a white dress shirt with french cuffs and a spread collar, silver cufflinks shaped like his logo, a navy blazer with gold buttons with his logo on them , Khaki colored dress pants, white socks, brown leather dress shoes, a red silk tie in a half windsor knot, a gold pocket watch, and a forest green shell with white spikes.

Normally he'd just wear a shell and some spiked wristbands, but he had a conference in two days, so he had to get used to dressing up. 

He didn't mind the clothes, in fact they felt quite good, but in his mind he wasn't the type of guy who would wear them. Or wear a beard, or do a lot of things for that matter. 

He looked at his watch. 

Bowser: Three hours till Mario's brother gets here. I hope he lasts longer than the last one.

The king muttered to himself. 

Somewhere in the skies near the coast of the Darklands an Air Goomba plane was preparing to make its final approach to Shadow City International Airport. 

Shyguy Stewardess: Sir, wake up, we're almost at our final destination. 

Luigi: Wuh huh? 

Luigi slowly got up. 

He'd been able to sleep through most of the flight, only waking once to go to the toilet, once to stretch, and once to eat his breakfast. His breakfast consisted of an omelet with fried mushrooms and fire flower, some somewhat stale bread, an assortment of overripe fruit native to the Mushroom kingdom, and some coffee, which he'd been told was a type popular in the Darklands, and was unfortunately the best part of the meal. While it had been a bit too dark for his taste, he still enjoyed it. 

The landing had been uneventful, some passengers had clapped, but that was nothing out of the ordinary.

The lesser known Mario brother thought of his situation as he made his way through the airport. He'd met Bowser only a few times in his life, and couldn't remember the last time they'd exchanged more than a few words. Even after Bowser's wife died a few years ago, he'd only sent him a short letter offering his condolences, and never gotten a reply. And now he was on his way to babysit the man's children. 

He giggled nervously. 

The only time he'd babysat anything was his neighbor's Yoshi, and even that almost went wrong. 

He made his way to Darklands Customs and Border Protection.

Koopa Woman: Passport? 

Luigi showed his passport

Koopa Woman: Business or Pleasure?

Luigi: Business

Koopa Woman: Staying long? 

Luigi: I hope not! 

Koopa Woman: Haven't heard that in a while. 

Luigi chuckled nervously

Koopa Woman: Luigi … Mario? Huh, same last name as Mario Mario. 

Luigi: He's my brother

He smiled proudly. 

The koopa burst into laughter

Koopa Woman: Yeah right! And I'm the queen of the Darklands! 

She regained her composure

Koopa Woman: Regardless everything checks out. Welcome to the Darklands mister Mario. 

The man in green finished going through security, got his luggage, and walked outside, somewhat disheartened by what happened at customs. 

Shyguy Driver: Linguine Mario? Lugini Mario? I'm here for a Loogy Mario! 

Luigi: It's Luigi. 

Shyguy Driver: Can I see your passport ? 

The shyguy looked at it briefly 

Shyguy Driver: Looks good. Ok, get in the car. 

Luigi nodded, and got in the car. 

Shyguy Driver: Lets hope you don't end like the last ones. 

He muttered to himself. 

Time is a funny thing. Seconds can feel like minutes, minutes can feel like hours, hours can feel like days, and days can feel like years. Or in the case of one unfortunate King Bowser, ruler of the Darklands. Hours can feel like Centuries. 

Bowser looked at his watch. 

Bowser: 3 minutes till he's here. 

His children were all waiting in front of the door. 

He'd told them that he'd send them to the moon if they what they did to the last people that babysat them.

Not that it mattered, he was too tired to do anything, let alone punish them if they did what he feared they were going to do to Mario's brother . 

The doorbell rang.

Teenage Female Koopa: Ready! 

A security guard opened the door remotely

Oldest Teenage Male Koopa: Aim! 

The door opened

Second Oldest Teenage Male Koopa: FIRE! 

Bowser: NO! 

Bowser reacted too late. In unison the Koopalings blew scarlet balls of fire at their unfortunate target. 

Iggy: That was number 39! 

The crimson firestorm which wrapped around the figure in the doorway, gave way to emerald and viridian flames, behind which were intense eyes which seemed to burn with lime green fire. 

The mix of red and green fire dissipated as the man dressed in green dusted himself off. 

As he looked around the room, his composure shifted from intense anger to an equally intense nervousness

Luigi: Hello… I'm…

Bowser: The Nanny. 

[cawareyoudoin]

So a while ago I have seen a post by @q-hayashida-fanboy , proposing a theory that I never before considered, but that stuck with me and has made me write a dozen pages of notes, and descend into madness.

In Hollow Knight, we play as the Knight. Like many video game protagonists, they are mute, but unlike many video game protagonists, they have a set, in-universe reason for it. "No mind to think, no will to break, no voice to cry suffering", etc etc, we all know the story. Of course there are various fan interpretations (which I love), but for now I want to focus on the canon.

In canon, they stay silent. At least outwardly, that is. They read, they listen, but sometimes, rarely, they describe their surroundings to us (or to themselves). It could of course be argued that this is just the omniscient Narrator speaking, and I will tackle that later, but for now... Just go with me. I've had an Undertale obsession. I am familiar with squeezing out character details from seemingly irrelevant pieces of narration.

So! These tiny pieces of narration usually happen when the player is given a prompt to do something: open a gate, use the tram pass, examine something closely. They are not phrased as "do I do something?", but then again- if that was the case, I wouldn't have to try so hard to prove my argument. My point is, they are also not phrased as "do you do something?". They are simply "do something?", a neutral form that can be either first, second, or even third person.

The one that stuck out to me the most was this: "A blue gem rests atop a stone dais". I am not a native English speaker, and I had to google "dais" to even know what it was. The other similar flavour text is quite simple, and so this bit of fancy language was surprising. However, these few lines of dialogue are not enough to support an argument, and are so few and far between that an average player can simply ignore them.

Now, on to the actual theory itself: the Hunter's Journal. Perhaps the single most text-heavy thing in the entire game, rivaled only by Zote's Precepts. You get info about enemies when you kill them, and additional notes when you kill a set amount.

Well, what struck me (and others) as odd, is the strange discrepancies in knowledge, attitude, and tone between the initial entry, and the one you have to decipher. It would almost seem like the first entries weren't written by the Hunter at all...

So, like the maniac I am, I have reviewed the Hunter's Journal, entry by entry (you can read my semi-organized notes here, I'm sorry I don't have the strength to organise them more), and the first section, the one above the Hunter symbol, is definitely written by someone else. This other narrator seems to value honour and skill in battle, watch the creatures around them closely, with an almost scientific approach, and they use complex and refined language.

Of course the "omniscient outside narrator" is also possible, but this narrator also appears to have the perspective of the Knight, describing the creatures Hunter's size as "huge", and describing in detail the enemies that the Hunter only vaguely knows about (see: Collector, Uumuu, Siblings). They also get the most annoyed and emotional in the Zote-related entries, but otherwise are pretty straightforward.

Thus, I am convinced that this mysterious Narrator... is the Knight themselves.

If we were to accept this hypothesis, we could gain some information on what kind of person the Knight is.

My conclusions about that are as follows: the Knight, as expected, is quite a stoic person. They do, however, have a concept of emotion, and most likely feel some themselves. The most prominent ones, at least where Hallownest's creatures are concerned, are awe and contempt. They respect skill, honour, and combat prowess, and dislike cowardice, and... Well, everything Zote has going on. They observe creatures around them with curiosity, and have some biological and otherwise scientific knowledge. They also judge those around them, but mostly when it comes to their relationships with others- not with themselves. They don't write like a child would, suggesting that despite their tiny stature, they are indeed mentally grown up, or, alternatively, that they are a very mature and serious child.

Perhaps, we could also theorize what environment shaped them to be that way. It is possible they were influenced by their time in Hallownest before leaving, but if that's not the case, I would pose, that the place where they lived:

1. Valued a scientific approach

2. Valued knighthood (that would also explain why the Knight is the Knight, in spite of likely never being acknowledged by the Pale King or another Hallownest ruler)

3. Was also quite civilised and was perhaps another kingdom beyond Hallownest (we already know that the Pale King "last kingdom" propaganda is bullshit).

So there. If anyone has any objections, additions, or corrections, I would be glad to hear them.