#(but he is. still. a galloping sausage.)

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

I agree with you on a lot of points here. The RWS narrative does Gordon dirty in some ways, and I don't think he's being rude or mean every time he's painted as such (although sometimes he really is and I don't want to minimize that).

And Gordon definitely comes to see himself as a protector or sort of alpha leader to the rest. I don't think he fulfills that role as quite well as he thinks he does, but he does frequently make the effort and his willingness to see himself as part of the group (even if it must be as the leader) is a definite and huge improvement from his initial role as a not-really-malicious but as a hilariously egotistical engine who had not one thought rattling in his smokebox except "meee! meeeeee! MEEEEEEE!" So, growth. I respect it.

"[W]hen big things happen, especially to "his people" and they are no longer in a position where he can look out for them, he feels irritated and upset" <- I think this is very rosy, probably gives him too much credit! He doesn't like being separated from "his people" because they are his friends and he feels bereft when they're gone. He seems to have a hard time expressing that, normally finds some excuse that (as you say) allows him to claim irritation instead of vulnerability. (He doesn't miss Thomas, he's overworked. He isn't overwhelmed and homesick and just doesn't wanna, it's that the trucks are uncouth and the job is impossible. He isn't hurt that Henry now has a different shape and they can't be mistaken for each other anymore, he's irritated that Henry is so noisy.) But even Gordon himself has never tried to excuse his vulnerability as concern for his friends' safety or well-being! His reaction to loss and change is totally human and understandable, but not noble. He just needs the support of familiar faces and his usual routine as much as anyone, indeed more than most. Gordon's a bit high-maintenance.

We can only guess on Annie and Clarabel's respect for him. I have a feeling it's simply because Gordon's at the top of the railway hierarchy and that's what they respect. They don't share Thomas's gadfly delight in thumbing his nose at that hierarchy, his shining confidence that he's worth infinitely more than "his place." I don't think Annie and Clarabel, as branch line coaches, necessarily know much of Gordon's character; they're just nice conventional old ladies.

I agree with you that I don't think "Hullo, fatface!" would have got lodged quite so deep in Gordon's smokebox if it hadn't come from Henry! It is kinda fascinating. Like, Gordon doesn't normally overreact to insults or teasing. He ignores it if he thinks it's beneath his notice (like the first howevermany times Thomas called him "lazybones" and ruined his nap, lol!) and if it merits a reaction he plans a very targeted punishment to get his own back (dragging Thomas on the Express, blocking Duck from the points to the shed the way he did to the big engines, etc.) But yes, Henry says that and he starts to immediately stew and spiral. I once wrote a post that included an analysis of how Gordon seems to regard most engines (including James) as "little" - he can patronize and condescend to them. One exception is Henry (the other is Edward). Which is all just to say... yeah, it's very interesting. Henry really pushes his buttons there - but Gordon lets him. He doesn't start thinking up a plan to punish Henry and put him in his place. Best he can do is retreat to self-aggrandizement, lol.

Oh, Gordon... I think he is a great representation of how the word "condescending" has changed in connotation over the course of the 20th century 😉 He clearly is of the old-school upper-crust view that condescension is a virtue!

Forever and Ever... Even in the 1920s-1960s

Started going down a long digression in the 2+4 essay. Gonna follow this breadcrumb trail over here instead...

One of my arguments is that Gordon actually behaves well and graciously way more often than he is usually given credit for (and starts doing this way earlier than often credited, too).

Along the way, I realized that his spots of bad behavior are not random. When he starts acting all Ass, it's almost always in the period of some sort of major change in his life:

The Three Railway Engines - *waves hand vaguely* all of it -> he's just transferred from the GNR to Sodor

Troublesome Engines - *waves hand again* y'know, all of it -> Thomas moved away :(

Henry the Green Engine - harrumphing about how Henry has let the side down in like three different ways directly after Henry's major reconstructive surgery -> the horrible wreck where Henry, his best friend, could have died, and instead was in hospital the rest of the damn winter

Gordon the Big Engine - "Mind you keep on the rails today!" and then, when he gets pushback, retreating to old friend "boasting" -> is he mother-henning Henry?? he's explicitly referencing the Kipper accident! I would not be too shocked to learn that Gordon gets twinges of unease that he never examines every so often whenever he sees Henry with a train

Percy the Small Engine - "Quack quack quack!" and trying to bully Duck (lol. lmao, even) -> Percy is gonna move away :(

Main Line Engines - getting on his high horse about "Branch Line Diesels" and then getting into a huge spat with Edward that results a brand-new beat-down of a dead horse named "Edward is Weak and Useless" -> We learn in "Wrong Road" that his fireman is new. Presumably his old fireman advanced to fill the role, leaving the vacancy... which means that Gordon recently lost his old driver to retirement.

You might be thinking "well yeah, stressors are stressful, most people's outbreaks of bad behavior have to do with some sort of Big Life Thing" - I certainly thought so, for a mo'. But this isn't true of the other major characters? James's worst behavior in the Wilbert books comes when he is slightly delayed sometimes during his work day and when Toby just, erm… exists. Thomas's worst behavior is because he… doesn't like his snowplough, and has a careless cleaner.

No, only Gordon's poor behavior can so consistently be linked to big changes. Indeed, not many RWS characters have been seen with quite as much of an interior life as we learn Gordon has in "Tenders for Henry." By that point, Gordon has matured enough that he doesn't express his feelings in this emotionally-stupid make-it-everyone's-problem sort of way. But we can see clearly that the end of steam seems to affect him more deeply than anyone else at Tidmouth.

So yeah, I think there's something real and insightful in the above pattern. Once again, my friends - Galloping Sausage with Feelings.

[steam-beasts]

How I'd adapt TTTE BWBA s22 ep 2; "Forever and Ever"

Original summary; Gordon has a tantrum about all the changes being made to the railway and is sent back to his shed in disgrace, Gordon insists that he is happy to stay there forever but his new friend Nia from Kenya helps him to see the changes in a different light.

My adapted summary; Ever since Edward left the sheds, Gordon had been quite bitter about the changes. Now that Nia has moved in and Henry suddenly announcing that he's moving into Vicarstown, Gordon becomes enraged. In retaliation, he takes his frustration out on Nia and causes an accident.

Plot

A year had gone by since Edward's departure from Tidmouth Sheds, and despite how long it's been, Gordon still can't stop being bitter about it. Since Nia's arrival, Gordon had been disrespectful and belittles her often, bumping her out of the way and calling her a "weak little tank engine". He just directs his grumpiness on to her. One day, he hears a conversation between Henry and Sir Topham Hatt and is horrified to learn that Henry wants to move out.

(Not my art btw, it's on DeviantArt)

He confronts Henry the next day, and Henry tells him "Going to Vicarstown is my choice, Gordon. I don't need your say in it!". Gordon then goes to Sir Topham Hatt about the changes, ranting to him about the changes, but STH just says;

"Edward left Tidmouth to mentor Phillip and Rosie by his own choice, Gordon. Henry is moving away by his own choice as well, nothing can stay the same forever, you know. Just deal with it, and move on"

Sir Topham Hatt doesn't realise how much the changes are actually stressing Gordon out and agitating him.

When Gordon is getting his coaches shunted, he finds that Nia is shunting instead of Percy or Thomas. He's already angered by the sudden announcement of Henry moving out, and Nia, the one who (in Gordon's eyes) replaced Edward, decides to try and calm him down.

Gordon yells back at her, and Nia just retorts by saying;

"Ugh...I wonder how Edward and Henry put up with you, you're such hard work!"

Nia never means this in a rude way, she's just annoyed by Gordon. This remark upsets Gordon even further, so he decides to pull a trick on Nia... the same trick he pulled on Thomas decades ago.

He goes along with it and heads off with the Express early, and doesn't give Nia time to uncouple from the coach.

As Gordon speeds down the line with Nia in tow, he doesn't listen to her begging him to stop and just laughs it off.

(Imagine he's laughing maniacally)

My version of Nia was built without a proper safety valve, so she is a boiler explosion waiting to happen. Her boiler is heating up fast, luckily, her driver manages to reach her coupling rod and uncouples her. But as she's uncoupled, Gordon had reached a junction at that point and Nia ends up going off the rails and hitting a tree at full force, denting her buffers.

Later on that evening, everyone and STH find out what happened and confront Gordon about his errant behaviour.

Gordon is quick to defend himself, claiming Nia "replaced Edward and forced Henry out". This is when he tries venting his hatred of the changes. STH and everyone else just assume he's making up excuses and is overdramatic; he's not.

STH; "Excuses, excuses! I am sick and tired of your whining, Gordon! Nia is staying in this shed and that's final! We must not be so rude!"

Thomas; "You're definitely a big fat Galloping Sausage now, Gordon! You just can't go a day without complaining! Bother, even pulling the same trick on her like you did on me? That's pathetic!"

James; "Just disgusting, Gordon! I don't remember you being so horrible towards tank engines like you were today!"

Emily; "Shame on you..."

After this argument, STH tells Gordon that he's banned from pulling the Express until he gets his behaviour sorted out and is being locked in his berth. Gordon desperately begs him not to, but STH doesn't listen. He is shut up in the sheds, where he has a nightmare about Edward and Henry getting scrapped and wakes up in the middle of the night, unconsciously tearing up and reflecting on how everyone treated him and his dream.

The episode ends with Gordon whispering;

"....N-Nobody cares how I feel...my own controller doesn't c-care how I feel... why does nobody care about me?"

The episode ends.

Yeah, if I were to do Forever and Ever, it would be pretty dark and angsty. It's all hurt for Gordon and no comfort. Plus, it would show a bit of Gordon that's vulnerable and no longer all pompous and arrogant, instead all self-conscious and soft.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Living Weapon Whumpee part 37

Warnings: forced living weapon/fighter, war, bullet wounds, blood, death, betrayal for the greater good

His blood went cold when he saw him fall with a cry.

It was enough of a distraction that the current soldier he was fighting got a shot in with his rifle, that tore through his thigh in a spray of blood. Whumpee snarled his anger and crushed the offender's face in with a fist before making his way to check on Flint, dodging bullets and flying bodies.

Flint was shakily getting back to his feet when he reached him, and Whumpee made a quick assessment of the injuries he could see. Flint had several nasty ones, but the worst looked like a deep gash in his side, right below the leather armor he was wearing that was pulsing bright red blood.

But Flint's face was twisted with determination despite how he swayed unsteadily on his feet, trembling.

"Sir, you need medical attention," Whumpee said once he reached him. "You're too injured to keep going. Find a horse and fall back to your headquarters, the rest of us will win on our own."

"Since when do you give orders?" Flint shouted over the noise. "I'm not leaving until the fight's finished. Just because we're winning does not mean we have won. I intend to see this through to the end."

"What about Myra?" Whumpee snapped. "She needs her father. Don't die on her now." That was his real reason for watching over Flint; he was doing it for Myra. He had to make sure Flint made it back alive, for her sake, if nothing else.

"I'm not abandoning the fight, Whumpee," Flint roared, picking up his fallen gun. "That's final."

Whumpee's eyes darkened as Flint took a stumbling step forward, almost falling but catching himself.

"What are you waiting for?" Flint barked at him, confused.

Whumpee's expression was dark and unreadable, until suddenly... he lunged forward, and tackled Flint to the ground.

"Uff--what are you doing?!" Flint snarled, struggling against Whumpee's hold. "Let go!"

Whumpee didn't answer, roughly picking him up and throwing him over a shoulder despite how the leader cursed and shouted at him. He darted through the battlefield, snagging the reins of an injured horse and hauling himself and Flint onto its back.

"STOP! Right now! That's a direct order!" Flint roared at him indignantly, stubbornly trying to get off.

Whumpee had him draped across the horse's shoulders in front of the saddle, a strong hand on his back keeping him pinned down as he kicked the horse into a full gallop, steering it away from the worst of the fight.

"Sorry, Sir, but I can't let you die," Whumpee growled regretfully. "Even if we lose the war... at least Myra will still have her father."

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @cepheusgalaxy

@dragongodryss

[thechaddyengine]

Karma

Gordon: Hmph, why did they let you out of your "Cage"?

Mavis: Shut up Gordon, It was one time and I don't like being reminded of that day 2 years ago!

Gordon: Doesn't mean I'll forget about it, that could of been an engine, or even a human, your dangerous, you shouldn't leave the quarry if your still in working order. *As he puffed away, snorting at her*

*Mavis growled in anger*

Mavis: Grrrr... that fucking galloping sausage, I hate him for being a dick...

*A few hours later*

Gordon: Oooohh the indignity..... I HATE the rain...

Mavis: well, well, well~ Seems like the blue whale has returned to the waters~

Gordon: Oh shut up.....

Mavis: Ah, ah, ahhh~ you'll be stuck in the water if you act so rude *Smirks* Just say sorry and I'll get you out

Gordon: *Sighhhhhhhhhh* fine, i'm sorry for being a dick... *Frown*

Mavis: Good, i'll get you out in a no time *She chuckled*

[beumdi]

THOMAS

Thomas can be described as child-like and optimistic! He likes to hang out with Percy and the two often joke with each other, when he first arrived to the island, he was a bit boastful, he was a little confused but he's got the spirit!

Whenever he sees Bertie however, he starts sprinting even when the man was just taking a stroll and when he gets ahead of him, he sticks his tongue out in a playful manner and continues running, to which Bertie will be startled by the sudden race and run too.

He's seen as the joyous atmosphere of the island due to his nature, but just because it's all sunshines and rainbows doesn't mean he isn't aware of the negatives of this world.

EDWARD

Edward is what you'd expect, he's everyone's grandpa. He's willing to give advice to people and just be there, he has the patience of a god and getting him mad is nearly impossible, but no one in the island is ever willing to make him that mad.

Although he doesn't look that old, he definitely still is old. Sometimes he gets compliments for how young he looks, and he'll get flattered and thank them for the compliment.

He often invites the Clay pit twins over so they could eat! Bill and Ben adore his cooking, they would play with their food like having french fry fangs or cucumber eyes, and Edward would join in and have fun with them too, while also reminding them that they should finish their food.

So now he's willing to help people through their needs, wether it be cracking a joke or just simply being there for them, he has a decent sense of humor and he's just that good samaritan.

HENRY

Henry is a rather timid guy, yet he's not afraid to speak his mind. He likes keeping plants around his room because it gives a somewhat cozy and comfortable atmosphere for him, it makes him happy.

He probably deals with too much shit in his life yet manages to endure all of it, he isn't very strict and actually likes to be a little laid back from time to time, often jokes around with Edward or Gordon, or both.

The trio has a running joke going on where they would be arguing and Henry would go "Really? right in front of my salad?" and joke that he's eating his plants, Henry doesn't mind all this.

JAMES

James is boastful. He likes to style his long luscious red hair and will get pissy if anyone messes it up, although he can be pretty difficult to handle at times, he will still get the job done. He likes painting his nails and the color probably changes everyday.

He's definitely the type to get his crust cut off his PB&J sandwich, and Edward does it for him.

James is egotistical but can also be very silly, like how he thought he could win in a Jenga match with Donald. (Donald is ridiculously good at Jenga) and the tower ended up falling on his face.

GORDON

He's that one dad who's probably a buzzkill. Gordon's is what you'd expect, a rather boastful man, but despite all this, he's willing to help and give advice to others. Gets proud over simple things and that's what makes him silly, he could be looking at a cooked egg he made and huff proudly.

Henry and Edward would joke about him being in a hotdog costume due to the nickname "Galloping Sausage" It nearly happened at one point.

PERCY

Percy is Thomas's sidekick!! He's also rather child-like and is the one getting Thomas out of his shenanigans. They both love going out for adventures and cherishing it in a scrapbook. They both also have a thing going on where one of them will slip a letter to each other and act like secret agents.

He dislikes being alone for too long, especially in the dark, hence why he finishes up his mail duties rather quickly.

[melissamasakari]

Confessions you didn`t notice

Chapter eight. Little ride

I threw aside another unsuccessful heart knot prototype and decided to take my wonderful horse to do some riding. I took my bag, put some treats in it, checked the first aid kit and went out into the yard. A beautiful warm spring evening greeted me with lovely weather. I checked all the fastenings on the saddle and took Shifter out to take a ride around the pond. Then we can ride to the waterfall and return home before dark. Moving leisurely along the ranch, I noticed one incredibly familiar rider on a white horse coming from the harbor. Just like in fairy tales. Ouch, he's moving towards me. Is HIS route here today? But I thought it was Sam's turn.

“Hello, girls! Have you decided to get out of seclusion? We,” Arlo pulled on the reins and ruffled the horse’s mane, “were just about to lure you out to get some air.”

“Well, hello, yourself. Why would you need to lure us out? We already walk at least once a day for exercise. And we are almost inseparable because of work.”

“Are you getting used to riding? I promised to help you with this.”

“Well, you can just arrange me an exam. In autumn, for example. That time the victory will not be by mere luck.”

“You know that I CAN cancel your participation? I need to know that you're ready for it.”

“Again your stupid baseless threats. Aren't you tired of playing bad cop with me, huh? I haven't been fooled by this for a long time. Come up with something new, OFFICER.”

“You are a red pest! So are you going for a ride with me or not? I had to switch two patrols for this, you know.”

“Such great sacrifices! Let's go, of course. Around the pond?”

“Yeah. Just let's not rush. Try to gallop along, the road is wide enough for that.”

“Only if you’ll stop your sausage shop from trying to bite my leg.”

“Spacer! Shut it! Turn around!”

“Go ahead, girl. Let’s show these brutes our teamwork,” I lightly squeezed Shifter’s sides with my thighs, and we began to speed up gradually.

Now I can see that a leisurely ride can be really pleasant. Soft breeze, aromas of herbs and sea water, an intoxicating feeling of freedom! My ears were a little stuffy and my heart was racing.

Is it all because of the nice company today, or am I really starting to enjoy horse riding? – I asked myself.

Just… that felt like a date again. I wonder when I will finally be done with the “pillow”, will I also be mercilessly rejected? My entire house is already littered with these thingies, but I still don’t understand the basic principles of waving and knotting. I just hope no one else will dare to try their luck with him again while I'm making it.

Somehow I sped up. Ah, I need to go smoother. Do not be distracted, Melissa. It’s difficult, especially when he smiles SO much, looking at me. Wow, have we come full circle already?

“Aren't you tired yet?”

“No, I'm okay. Another circle or should we change the route?”

“We should let the horses cool down a little. Let's slow down.”

“Is that enough?”

“Great. You're doing well. Take it to the right. We can relax by the pond and then continue our ride.”

“Accepted. Almost there.”

“Should I help you get down?” Was he courting me like that or was he hinting at me being vertically challenged?

“What for?” I deftly jumped from the saddle while carefully freeing my legs from the stirrups.

While Arlo dismounted and rummaged through his saddlebag, I treated my mare to a fragrant apple. Spacer also seemed interested. Well, I still had some more of it, if, of course, he will stop offending me.

“Go graze, my dear.”

“And you girls seem to get along well.”

“Perhaps. But your stallion is trying to make a mess. Is he jealous of you?”

“I think it’s the other way around. Hey buddy, keep an eye on the lady. Just no funny business!” Redhead lightly flicked the horse on the back and put something on the grass... Blanket? Wow. He spread it out, sat down and patted it next to him invitingly. So cute.

“I see you’re prepared,” I sat down next to him and clasped my knees with my hands.

“To be honest, I didn’t expect you to agree so easily. You've became quite popular.”

“What are you talking about? Is a couple of dinners with girls a measure of popularity now?”

“I think so. It’s just that no matter when I pass by, you’re not home. Or you refuse to come out under questionable excuses. I'm already starting to miss our shared adventures.”

“What kind of adventure do you want to get me into this time? Dunk into the mud at a Sewage Plant? Climb into some old ventilation with a lantern? Picnic in an abandoned ruin? Oh, I figured it out! Jet-pack Race!”

“Wow. Almost a sound idea. Just too dangerous. Something might jerk, fall from above, or you might get caught in a narrow tunnel. Besides, we don’t have enough jet-packs for such entertainment. It's a shame though.”

“Come on, sometimes a peaceful stroll is also a great option. It's going to get dark soon, maybe we'll have enough time to get to the waterfall? It’s always very beautiful there at sunset!”

“Let's go!” He jumped up. He shook himself off and offered me his hand, helping to get up. Now it looked even more like romantic courtship, and I’m daydreaming again, right? And while I was thinking about it he pulled me towards him, hugged me, leaned over slightly and kissed me. Wow! It was completely his initiative, I was so impressed. Does this mean that he likes me, I wonder. I reached out and stroked his cheek with my palm, and then buried my hand in the hair at the back of his head. In response he made a strange growling sound, continuing to kiss me very greedily. He seems to really like it. I should remember this for the future.

“Arlo, I…” I broke away a little and said hoarsely.

“I know that you wanted to admire the sunset from the waterfall. We should go there before it’s too late.” He said and released me from his hug, then made a few steps away from me.

DAMN RED-BLOCK-HEAD! I almost said that I love you! A little upset, I stepped aside so as not to interfere with him rolling up the blanket. A whistle sounded behind me. A capricious horse sausage walked proudly past.

“Arlo, can I give him a treat? Or do I risk having my hand bitten off?”

“Try it, I’ll back you up.”

I fished another apple out of the bag and placed it on my open palm.

“Come here, jealous creature. Take this. It's for you.”

“Spacer, you allowed to. Well done. Pet him now, look, he asks you to.”

I obediently patted the stallion behind the ears. This caused my mare to neigh jealously. And the girl, it turns out, has character. Not surprised. I took out another apple and threw it to her. Shifter, accustomed to such tricks, immediately caught the treat and shook herself joyfully.

“So, I'm ready. Let’s mount and go before the sun goes down.”

“Race?”

“Ha, do try it. Just don't swallow any dust.”

This was more like our usual entertainment. We moved, anyway, almost synchronously. Only the wind whistled in my ears. We flew past both of my bridges and galloped towards a hill with an elevator. How beautiful is here. In the rays of sunset the water shimmered with all shades of red, blue and green. The noise of the waterfall was almost drowned out by the clatter of hooves. Absolute delight. Unable to contain my emotions, I laughed loudly. Then I blew a kiss to my companion and spurred the mare. Let him tingle too. I don't want to be the only one who is blushing so much.

“I won!” I stopped on the plateau and shouted to those lagging behind.

“It’s not fair,” the redheaded said offendedly as he caught up with me, “this was a forbidden technique!”

“Why is so? It was not specified by the rules. Dismount, otherwise you’ll have to yell,” I carefully dismounted myself. Rocks can be slippery. Arlo tied the horses to the nearest tree and came close to me and very carefully placed his arm around my waist from behind. That is, pulling me tightly against his chest.

“Well, how do you like the view? Was it worth cheating in the race?”

“Sure thing! Look how the river sparkles. We made it to the most beautiful part. Now the sun will disappear into the sea. The clouds will turn dark blue and the stars will appear. Before moving here, I had never seen so much water and bright colors at once! And now I can come and admire it every day. Actually, that's what I do. Well, I try to do this at least a couple of times a week. How are you? Aren't you tired of messing up with me?”

“What a nonsense. I will never get tired of your company. It's so great you accepted my invitation today. Oh, look what kind of fish can flew across the Amber Bridge? I just saw one.”

“Delicious kind, probably. And there's another one, see? But I wouldn’t eat this one, it’s kind of weird.”

“Bad for you. This is a rare delicacy, by the way. Someday we’ll go and catch it. Will you cook it for us?”

“Yep, I’ll just stop by Django’s and ask for the recipe,” at this point the hug ended abruptly. What did I say wrong?

“Well, okay. Let's ride back before it got completely dark.”

We reached the gate of The Workshop in complete silence. I dismounted and said goodbye. Zero reaction. He didn't even wave his hand. He looks like he swallowed something nasty. I wound up and unsaddled the mare, checked the feeders, thrashed the punching sacks a little, and, very upset, went to wash myself and sleep. I dreamed of all sorts of strange nonsense, like of terrible, horrifying robots who burrowed into the ground and from there attacked people moving on the surface. What a bullshit.

[johnny-kobayakawa-television2015]

Thomas and Friends: Sodor Online Journeys (Story 51): Dirty Work/Diesel's Devilish Deed

After his goods train was delivered, Duck went back to the yard. Then, he heard the trucks/cars singing. He was horrified. "Shut up!" he ordered, and bumped them hard.

"I'm sorry our trucks/cars were rude to you, Diesel." Diesel was still furious. "It's all your fault! You made them laugh at me!" "Nonsense." said Henry. "Duck would never do that. We engines had our differences, but we never talk about them to the trucks/cars. That would be dis…dis…." "Disgraceful!" said Gordon. "Disgusting!" put in James. "Despicable!" finished Henry. Diesel hated Duck. He wanted him to be sent away, so he made a plan. He was going to tell lies about Duck.

Next day, he spoke to the trucks/cars. "I see you like jokes. You made a good joke about me yesterday. I laughed and laughed. Duck told me one about Gordon, so I'll whisper it. Don't tell Gordon that I told you." And he snickered away. "Bah ha ha!" guffawed the trucks/cars. "Gordon will be cross with Duck when he knows! Let's tell him and pay Duck out for bumping us!/Let's tell him and get back at Duck for bumping us! They laughed rudely at the engines, as they went by.

Soon, Gordon, Henry and James found out why. "Disgraceful!" said Gordon. "Disgusting!" said James. "Despicable!" spluttered Henry. "We cannot allow it!" they consulted together. "Yes," they said. "He did it to us. We'll do it to him, and see how he likes it."

Meanwhile, Duck was tired out. The trucks/cars had been cheeky and troublesome. He wanted a rest in the shed, so he left his train there.

The three engines barred his way. "Hoooooosh! Keep out!" "Stop fooling around." said Duck. "I'm tired." "So are we." hissed the engines. "We're tired of you. We like Diesel, but we don't like you. You tell tales to us to the trucks/cars!" "I don't!" "You do!" "I don't!" "You do!" The Fat Controller/Sir Topham Hatt came to stop the noise. "What's going on here?" he asked. "Duck called me a galloping sausage!" spluttered Gordon. "Duck also called me Rusty Red Scrap Iron!" hissed James. "Duck thinks that I am Old Square Wheels!" fumed Henry. "Well, Duck?" Duck considered. "I only wish myself," he said gratefully, "that I thought of those names myself. If the dome fits…" "Um, ehem?" The Fat Controller/Sir Topham Hatt had been trying not to laugh himself. "He made the trucks/cars laugh at us!" accused the engines. The Fat Controller/Sir Topham Hatt recovered. "Did you, Duck?" "Certainly not, Sir! No steam engine would be as mean as that!" Diesel came out and lurked up. "Now, Diesel. You heard what Duck said." "I can't understand it, Sir. To think that Duck of all engines. I'm dreadfully grieve, Sir, but known nothing." "I see." said The Fat Controller/Sir Topham Hatt. Diesel squirmed, and hoped he didn't. "I'm sorry, Duck, but you must go to Edward's Station for a while. I know he will be glad to see you." "As you wish, Sir." Duck trundled sadly away, while Diesel smirked with triumph.

Story End, and To Be Continued

[chop-zulyzulyyy]

Throne and Sickle Ch.2

Chapter 2: Sweat Tea Manners

Turtle bros x fem!parkour!reader

Summary: In which the turtles record their training one fateful night, and find the rooftops hold stories with a beginning...and an end.

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Author Note: I hope everyone is staying warm! It's cold out here. Please enjoy Chapter 2!

Disclaimer: I don’t own ROTTMNT, sigh.

Genre(s): a bunch of stuff, really. You'll figure it out ;)

WARNINGS: Heavy topics NOT for the lighthearted; like seriously it’ll get dark in some parts. Mentions of s*xual assault, bl**d, sh*rp objects, and more. I will do my best to organize in a way that readers can identify the warning sign!

A daydream is an evasion... - Thomas Merton

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If the morning consisted of a bright sun, warm and not harsh, if the birds chirped their pretty songs, or the plant leaves were covered from the dew drops, if the level of noise pollution was less compared to the other times of the day, only the morning birds knew. It was early enough for anyone barely get out of the warmth of their bedsheets. And alas, warm light streaming from the kitchen coupled with the faintest tunes of humming could be heard where an orange terrapin poured batter onto a sizzling pan.

With the many hours of sleep (that could technically count as hibernation), Mikey was physically up to par. The entirety of planning Supernova didn’t allow a decent alternative to avoid being so drained, and he could still feel the eraser shavings all over his floor from pages ripped, pages crumpled, pages smudged full of past ideas. Putting aside a mental note to create papier-mâché with those later, Mikey pondered. Everything played out much better than he hoped, at least.

Well. Almost everything.

Chopping up some bananas, he chewed his inner cheek. Mikey remembered: woke up in his bed around the late hours and hearing his bros hushed whispers from the main room. He would’ve gone right back to sleep had he not heard their Pop’s voice join in. Last time that rat woke up for squat he snuck out of the lair in ugly clothes. He sat up and rubbed his eyes when Leo peeked inside his room. Mikey asked what happened, only for him to shrug it off with ‘we’ll talk about it in the morning’, coaxing his baby brother back to sleep afterwards.

Allowing for the pancakes to finish, he moved on to slice avocado. Where Mikey loved pancakes and fruit, Donnie always preferred avocado toast topped with tomato and three cups of dark roast (those ratios dear Lord). Mikey to this day has to fight him to eat some more fruits. Raph enjoyed anything as long as there was sausage- it needed to have meat, Raph told him. Leo barely strayed from Mikey’s special omelettes- mushrooms and bell peppers were nonnegotiable. It didn’t bother Mikey much, at least he enjoyed a mountain of chopped bananas with it. Pops was traditional: give the man a small cup of tea, steamed rice, miso soup, and tamagoyaki and he was off to a great day.

Mikey flipped the pancake over. Breakfast was soft pancakes and berries, as warm as they would be in the sun, maple syrup threaded upon the top with a gallop of butter. It remained his favorite breakfast, but it had nothing to do with the food. He loved it because he was surrounded by his family at that time of day, because there was softness and vulnerability shared before the events of training and battles and enemies caught up to their brains. Compared to dinner there’s the same sentiment however by then everyone is too exhausted, and their thoughts are a befuddled mess. It’s odd how emotions are transferred. Mikey smiled, soft and small. Whatever was going on…he’d offer all the food he could make to keep them happy.

“Hey, Angelo.”

The orange terrapin turned to the doorway to find his brother yawning still…equipped with gear-“Tell me you did not pull an all-nighter again, Donnie.”

He shrugged, “There was no way to silence the genius that is my brain.”

Mikey put his hands on his hips, unimpressed. Donnie avoided his reprimanding gaze, sucking his teeth, “Sigh. Alright fine. I’ll set up appropriately for bed tonight.”

Mikey smiled, “Good.”

At that moment Splinter and Raph entered the kitchen where the former hopped up to the chair unaffected from the early morning hour, being a morning person himself as Raph gave Mikey a head pat.  

“Morning! Where’s Leo?” Mikey swatted Raph away when he stole a few berries from the bowl.

“He went to pick up April. Just a heads up in case she hasn’t eaten anything yet.” Raph muffled, mouthful of berries. Mikey nodded, pouring a second batch of pancakes onto the pan. He sprinkled some chocolate kisses in the batter and a few of Leo’s banana slices when a blue portal appeared at the doorway. Leo trudged through with a sleepy April tucked under his arm rolled in a pink blanket, accompanied by Mayhem. Donnie snorted at this, grabbing a second mug from the cabinet above the coffee maker as Mikey set everyone’s plates on the table.

“Morning Leo! April still out, huh?” Said turtle groaned, setting April upright in a chair and settled himself beside the girl. He flicked her forehead, jolting her awake.

“This girl could sleep through a demolition on her own building! I’m so done with morning pick-ups.”

“So, anyone gonna tell me what happened last night?” April yawned, cutting into her pancakes. Mikey turned to them, fork stopped halfway in the air. Donnie sipped his coffee with a finger up.

“Well,” he started, “we have reason to believe the Robin Hoods know…about us.”

Her neck should’ve snapped in half with how she turned so fast, seriously. “You mean- hold up we’re talking about that parkour group right? Same guys making cops run around like crazy?”

Raph nodded as he cut into his egg with a sigh, “We don’t know exactly much, either. We got through Mikey’s showcase, he passed out. Next thing we know someone was watching us without the cameras picking up on ‘em. Last thing she did was leave a note with ‘S.O.S.’ on it and coordinates with a date.”

Mikey blinked in surprise, “Aw man! I missed all that? So then are we going?”

“Absolutely not.”

Everyone faced Donnie.

“What is disturbing is their motive, not to mention the many variables in question. How long have they known, why was this Robin Hood alone, their purpose of their group, does it affect us in a negative light? Too many questions and no answers.”

Mikey hummed, “Yeah, but if that girl came alone then that might mean her group doesn’t know?”

April shook her head, “That’s not always the case, Mikey. Sometimes a group can send one of their own as a middleman- the messenger of sorts.”

“True…”

Leo pointed a fork covered in omelette at Donnie, “Then how about we send our own middleman? Not one of us, obviously, but S.H.E.L.D.O.N? You said he’s got all the cams, the feeds, Megan Fox’s phone number for pizza’s sake,” he waved the fork, “we could totally use those to see what they want.”

Donnie crossed his arms, one hand covering his chin in thought. While that was true, he didn’t know if their numbers would be a problem. A hacker on their team was the last thing he needed. Not that he wouldn’t wipe the floor with them but still. One of their best surviving attributes included stealth- it’s how they remained hidden for so long- and now that somehow these Robin Hoods know, it just didn’t sit right.

Donnie relented, “Very well. I’m going to retrieve the cubes first and go over a few things before we do anything.”

“Sounds Gucci to me,” Leo grinned, “I’ll come with. Last thing we need is for people to spot a purple UFO. Donnie’s got enough of that E.T look to him.”

This earned a cube of tomato to the forehead. The others remained silent, peacefully eating while watching the other go back and forth with each other.

Splinter swallowed his tamagoyaki, “So, my sons. When do they request to meet?”

“Midnight Friday.”

April swallowed her food, “That won’t be for another three days. How about in the meantime I scope around the city, ask around and get the deets?”

Splinter nodded, “And I will search the hidden city.”

Raph nodded, “Great idea. Let us know any updates.” He gave a thumbs up in her direction.

And with that, conversation soon trailed off into different topics as they enjoyed their meals. Mikey felt a hand on his head and turned to face Splinter. He smiled.

“I heard you did a wonderful job, Orange. Soon you will be as spontaneous as Lou Jitsu!”

Mikey laughed, “Thanks, Dad. Now stop taking my berries, I saw you take them with your tail!”

“I recall no such thing.”

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Clinking of teacups, mugs, and metal spoons as they twirled drinks into perfection were the makeshift alarms for rousing New Yorkers in the diner, hushed conversations shared so as to not disturb other customers. Streams of golden light were beginning to peak over buildings, creating a rainbow of colors if it passed through glass of any kind but no warmth could be felt yet. It was too early. Outside the diner, shop owners could be seen pushing metal port doors up, rumbling as they rolled into place. Other early risers were getting a jog in or a bike ride, or just barely heading out to work before the morning rush. Cab drivers lined up against the curb on standby.

“Good morning, sugar. Can I get you something to drink to start off?” A sweet, middle-aged dark-skinned woman asked, a notepad in hand. She untucked the miniature pencil from behind her ear.

“A coffee, please. Vanilla creamer if you have any.”

Scribbling, she nodded. “Of course. Are we ready to order or you need a minute?”

“I need a few minutes, if that’s alright.”

She smiled, warm and understanding, “You take your time. Seems a little early for a high school student to be out. Studying for an exam?”

“U-uhm, no. I graduated a long time ago.”

The waitress blinked, “Hush your mouth! Baby you look like you’re fresh out of the oven. Now what kind of skincare do you use? Spare me some of those secrets?”

This earned a lighthearted laugh, “I get that a lot, but you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

“Mhmm, I hear ya. I’ll go get that coffee right out for you, sweetheart.” With a wink, the waitress left. She greeted the chef over the counter who nodded his head to her customer.

“Morning, Udora. Miss give you her order?”

Udora shook her head, brewing a fresh pot of coffee. “No not yet, but table three is still waiting on their eggs, Alan.”

“Ah, geez!” He scrambled to scramble the eggs, the silly cowboy. “I gotta say, I’ve seen that girl around these parts a few times. For all the clouds I’ve seen in Texas, there’s never been someone with their head in them as much as her.”

Udora sighed, “You of all people know it is never our business to meddle. Our job is to give these kind customers their meals. Your mama never told you ‘nun?” she teased.

Alan rolled his bluebell eyes, scratching his scruffy beard. “All I’m saying is young people should be enjoyin’ life, getting some girlfriends and boyfriends, going on dates, and buying clothes. They’re all worried too much these days. Too young to stare out windows like Miss over there.”

Udora smiled. Alan was an old diamond in the rough, but she’d never tell him that. He’d just respond with ‘what do I need diamonds for, just get me a can of beer and a radio’. Alan was an ex-marine, born and raised on Texas soil who yearned for a fresh start, and found himself here in Maraschino’s where somewhere in time found himself a friend in Udora. She herself sought out a new beginning in her prime, away from New Orleans. They’ve seen thousands of faces, heard a million stories, and always wondered where fate took people. In this morning’s mysterious customer, they had a feeling it was one of those times when life became everything at once. Udora glanced towards the booth; a petite little thing she was. She leaned against a hand over her mouth, peering out with a glazed look, the other hand curling around her arm. It wasn’t that cool out to warrant a jacket, but Udora worried she’d catch a cold with just a thin long sleeve. Not hair out of place, not a wrinkle on her skin but the shadows Udora herself fought to escape in her years made her appear… haunted, despite sitting in the glow of the sunlight streaming through windows. Udora prayed, as she set the coffee mug in front of the young woman, that she’d be able to feel the warmth of the sun one day.

“Here you go, baby. Anything to go with that coffee?” She coaxed. The young woman welcomed the mug with a grateful smile and pointed to the menu.

“Yes, I’ll have your pancakes and fruit please.”

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🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

Fun Fact: Red Eared Sliders have poor hearing but good vision and are very sensitive to vibrations. When startled or threatened, they will quickly slide off rocks/logs back into the water (hence the name).

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

[adoracora-elizabeth]

But Papa! Why? Chapter 23

The last days were crazy busy, it took me a little bit longer to write this chapter, but I finally finshed it. Hope you all will like it.

Cora was listening to Robert’s breathing. She woke up early and had trouble falling asleep again. She was worried about her mother's reaction to Robert. She had expected her to be happy, but it was far from that. Martha had ignored Robert most of the time. And she even said on the day, they left that Cora should think about what she was doing.

But Cora knew she did the right thing, she wanted to be with Robert although Violet was not very welcoming. Patrick and Rosamund were. Rosamund texted her yesterday that she needed to meet Marmaduke soon. It meant a lot that Rosamund was such a kind friend.

Robert stirred and moved; Cora looked at him. He was still fast asleep. She looked at the clock, four in the morning. A deep sigh escaped her, and she turned on her back, she needed some more sleep. Robert had not said much about tomorrow, only that he wished the weather would be good.

How would the house look like, was it as big as Robert and Violet said? And how bad was the state of the house? Did the fire only burn the inside, or was it more like a ruin?

Suddenly Robert wrapped his arm over her stomach, and she got pulled closer to him.

"Tomorrow will be a long day, try to sleep." He murmured while pressing his face into her loose curls. She had put it into a braid before going to bed, but due to her tossing and turning, it had gotten loose.

Cora turned on her side and curled herself up. Robert’s arm was still wrapped around her. But he had not fully woken up. Cora pressed herself a bit more against his chest. She felt her eyes getting heavy again.

+++

"Do you know how to ride?" Robert asked while cutting into the sausage on his plate. The pub offered a full breakfast with the room.

"I never learned how to drive a stick, but I think I can learn," Cora answered, sipping her tea.

"I was not talking about driving. I asked if you ride."

"You will have to clarify. I do not understand what you mean." Cora felt her cheeks colour.

Robert chuckled; Cora looked adorable with her red cheeks. "I was asking if you know how to ride on a horse?"

Cora's eyes grew and she got a wide smile on her face. "I love horseback riding." She answered. "We have our own horses back home."

"That is amazing." Robert tried not to laugh. He liked how different Cora said things somethings. He would say horse riding, but she added 'back' to it. Probably an American thing. "We will go over the estate on the back of a horse."

"That sounds amazing." She looked out of the window. "The weather is perfect for it."

+++

Robert helped Cora to get on her horse, then he mounted himself. The stable boy wished them to have a fun day and then they rode off.

They enjoyed the wind in their hair. Together they galloped over the green fields.

"If you look closely, you already can see the contours of Downton." Robert pointed in front of them. They were now riding towards the house. Robert always felt butterflies, the moment the house came into sight. He looked sideways to see Cora’s reaction. Her face showed her excitement he felt.

"I was not sure what to expect, but I was not expecting a house this big." She said.

Robert sped up the pace, and Cora followed. She enjoyed this morning to the fullest. Being together with Robert, and she had not seen Robert this free and without worries before. Waking up this morning next to him, was already a very good start of her day. This morning was the first time, she wanted to be closer to him, then just lying next to him in bed. She had been very nervous about that part of the relationship. Would she be good enough, and would she be Robert's first? He would be her first and that scared her. What was expected of her? She did not know. She could not think about this for long, the house came into full view now and she was stunned again by the size of it.

Robert slowed his horse down and looked at Cora. "What do you think?"

"It is a majestic house. Incredible, the size, it is so big!"

"Can you picture yourself walking through that front door every day?"

Cora had not thought that far into the future, she had not realised that rebuilding it, would mean they had to live there. "It does not look like it needs rebuilding?" She said quickly, to hide her shock.

"The outside is not damaged; it is all inside. It is a disaster inside, and we are not even allowed to go in, due to the state of it. But we can go closer and try to look in through the windows?" The childlike excitement was back on his face, and he got down from the horse.

Cora followed and stepped next to him; his face was pressed against the window.

"This is the library, one of the rooms, that was untouched by the fire. We got very lucky, because there are quite a few rare books in this collection. Come, look at this." Robert took Cora's hand and pulled her with him. "Through this window you can see the grand staircase, even though the fire raged through the building, that beautiful staircase is still standing." Robert pulled Cora closer and wrapped his arm around her. "One day you will be able to walk down that stairs." He kissed her temple.

Cora could not resist, she brushed with her hand over his cheek and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. "One day my love, one day."

"Come, we will get back on the horses and ride around the building."

Cora had to hurry; Robert was already riding off.

"When I was younger, we used to go jumping here at the back of the house." Robert exclaimed looking backwards to Cora.

'Just be careful.' Cora thought, but she did not say it out loud, she gave Robert a smile. She saw him speed up again and preparing for the jump. The horse jumped and when it landed on the other side of the small river, Robert was not in the horse anymore. She heard a loud scream and he disappeared.

"Robert!" Cora yelled and quickly got to where he fell of his horse. "Robert." her voice full of worry.

[pileoftrashsstuff]

*slams down a sketchbook*

I'll have you know that this bitch right here has sketches of the fem! Steam team, I even once drew a galloping sausage!

I also know of a person who draws to many ships to the point the artists own oc Edwin is worried!

(I tried forgive me-)

PFFFTTTT

YALL REALLY DON'T WANNA KNOW ABOUT THE HORRORS I HAVE CREATED IN MY OLD SKETCHBOOKS HAHAHAHAHAH

[scribbling-dragon]

ash-covered hearts

Summary:

“Hello to you too,” Pixl adjusts his glasses, the chain glinting slightly as he does so. “How’s it in Tumble Town?”

“Dry, dusty, the usual. And the guild?”

“Books, grumpy old people, the usual.” Pixl replies, smiling at him. “How goes, ah,” he looks around at their current company before lowering his voice, “How goes you and Tango?”

(AO3 Link)

(Masterpost)

(3,852 words)

this was done from a prompt by @faffodill, thank you for it! and, as always, reblogs help so much more than likes! (also, this is a series now! woo!)

He didn't expect much from the meeting that’s been called, in all honesty, promising Tango he’d be back by four at the latest as he left the house that morning. He might have left the house a little less presentable than he had started, in the end, but there was no one other than his Deputy to watch him judgingly as he adjusted his collar again and straightened his badge out.

He salutes her as he rides away, and she turns away with a grimace, walking back inside the office. Arrow’s eager to move out that morning, barely needing any encouragement before she’s galloping onwards, leaving the small town behind as they charge up the path and out into the open mesa.

It’s dry, and the dust swirls around him as he heads east, towards Sanctuary and the meeting waiting for him there. He’s probably left a little earlier than some of the other rulers. But some of them have the benefit of flight, and he doesn't. He continues onward on Arrow, pushing her a little faster when Pixl shoots overhead, with a shouted greeting that soon fades out, leaving him playing catch-up.

It’s fine, Pixl is normally incredibly early anyway, to organise whatever notes he’s gathered on the local ruins they need to avoid destroying. He’s not actually sure why the guild keeps sending Pixl rather than someone that has actually completed their thesis, but he’s not about to question people that have degrees when he doesn't.

Still, he arrives covered in dust. He brushes as much of it off as he can, shaking slightly like a dog to get most of it out of his hair and ignoring the judgemental looks from some of the locals. He’s not about to get another bucket of water dumped on him by Scott, thanks. One meeting of sitting through it soaking wet and shivering while everyone laughed at him was enough.

He pays one of the locals to keep Arrow in a stable while he goes into the meeting, giving them a kind smile as they take Arrow, leading her away gently. He’s spoken to them before, he’s pretty sure, and they were nice enough. They spare him a kind smile anyway, and point out that he’s got a small, ah, bruise, on his neck.

He turns away quickly when they point that out, pulling his shirt collar a little higher and hoping that his face hasn't turned too red. Still, he gives himself a minute outside of Sausage’s incredibly fancy office building, before stepping inside.

He always hates coming into these sorts of buildings, because he always feels so out of place, looking around the clean walls and neatly ordered files. It’s a far cry from the messy and dusty office they have in the mesa. But the sand gets everywhere, and it’s more of a hassle to sweep it out than just ignore it.

He hasn't missed how his town is the only one to not host one of these meetings yet.

Still, the nice man at the front desk directs him upstairs, giving him a kind smile when he has to turn sideways to fit through the door without scraping the paint off of it with his horns. He still feels a little awkward as he smiles back, making his way along the corridor then up the stairs.

He resists the urge to knock when he arrives at the meeting room, only a few people already sat inside, but he already feels out of place among the highly decorated emperors, with their fancy, billowing clothes and elegant postures.

His eyes find Pixl, and in that moment he doesn't think he’s ever been more glad for the historian. He’s half-hunched over a file of some kind, hair escaping the loose braid he’d put it into and glasses slipping down his nose.

He sits beside him, laughing a little when Pixl startles, looking up from the maps and diagrams he’s drawn for this meeting. “Heya.” He says, already leaning over to catch a glimpse at Pixl’s newest discovery.

“Hello to you too,” Pixl adjusts his glasses, the chain glinting slightly as he does so. “How’s it in Tumble Town?”

“Dry, dusty, the usual. And the guild?”

“Books, grumpy old people, the usual.” Pixl replies, smiling at him. “How goes, ah,” he looks around at their current company before lowering his voice, “How goes you and Tango?”

“Good,” he nods, ignoring the way his face warms at the question. “Doing good.”

“I can see,” Pixl’s eyes slip down momentarily, and he groans, rubbing a hand down his face, “You might want to do another button up.”

“Thanks, yeah. Didn't already get that,” he says, even as he does another one up, hoping it’s enough to cover up the bruise that lovely person had pointed out earlier. “Honestly, I tell him that I've got an important meeting the next day and this happens.”

“I think it’s sweet.” Pixl says.

“You would.” He sighs, “Tell me about your current project?”

Pixl lights up a little, shuffling closer to him so he can see the files as well, flicking back to the start. “Well, one of the interns was researching for their first project, and they came across a text that said there was some kind of shrine in the desert, to some sort of god, and it was like, a properly ancient shrine too, and it was basically unheard of. Only one person in relatively modern times found it, and he disappeared into the desert soon after, leaving his whole empire without a leader.”

“Just, up and disappeared?” He asks.

“Yeah!” A few people look over at them at Pixl’s exclamation, and he apologises before turning back to him, “There’s a few records of him, he was from a long line of prophets, though it’s incredibly vague about any prophecies he did give. But we have hardly any information on Pixandria anyway. It’s as though it just disappeared completely.”

“But I'm assuming you found something.”

“We did.” Pixl sounds so excited about it that he can't help but be excited too. “A few more interns began looking into it in their free time, finding any texts they had on Pixandria and reading up on the landmarks that were nearby, and, accounting for any wear and tear that might have occurred in the past thousand or so years, they pinpointed an area to look over.”

They both pause as another person comes in, the door slamming back on its hinges and causing all of them to jump as Joel strides in, puffed up in his dumb toga. He takes a seat near the head of the table, leaning an elbow on it and reclining. He doesn't say anything, and they all stare at him for a few moments before turning back to whatever they were doing before.

He gestures for Pixl to continue, turning back to the file and looking at the picture Pixl points him towards. “This was the map they constructed, comparing it to the sketches of a map we found in an old journal, but it looks like the lands around have shifted since, likely due to the cataclysmic event, I've told you about it before-”

“The Rapture?” He interrupts, and Pixl nods.

“The Rapture, yes, so we also had to account for that. At this point they'd come to me, because apparently I'm the least scary of the almost-researchers there, and we were working on it together in the evenings. I really should have been working on my thesis, but it was just so interesting and I could easily get another extension on it.”

“And you like inspiring the younger ones.”

“Also that,” Pixl nods, “So, we had quite a wide area in this map,” he taps on it, “But we had a smaller area in this map once we’d actually managed to have a trip out there, find some of the landmarks the King references.” He flicks over a page, showing him another photo, this time of a map with a much smaller area circled, smaller crosses within the circles. “The crosses are for the landmarks we had managed to find on that trip, meaning, we could easily cross reference and find what we were looking for.”

“So you found the shrine?”

“Ah,” Pixl deflates, “We didn't find that shrine, it was nothing like the one described, but, we did find another thing, that almost seemed like a shrine.” Pixl flicks over to the next page, landing on a massive photo of what looks like a candle. “It’s actual wax.” Pixl informs him.

“Actual wax?”

“Yeah! We don't even know how it survived that long, but there were engravings on the side of it in a language we have the cipher to, meaning we can-”

“Alright, pack it in you two.” He looks up at Joel’s voice, eyes landing on the self-proclaimed god. “We want to have an actual meeting, not listen to you two lose it over an ancient candle.”

Pixl snaps the folder shut, and he jumps slightly at the action. He keeps his eyes fixed on Joel and the way he’s splayed across the table, invading several people’s space. He watches them with a bored gaze, before turning to face Sausage.

“Well, there’s not really much to discuss at this meeting.” Sausage laughs, “Just a few things, nothing major. You know? More just to catch up and make sure everyone’s doing alright. We don't want anyone struggling, do we?”

He grits his teeth and ignores the eyes that turn towards him at that last bit, flicking his tail slightly, as though swatting some invisible fly. He knows they think of him as weaker, but they could at least be a little more subtle about it, right?”

“Well,” Pixl speaks up from beside him, drawing everyone’s attention in their direction again, “If no one else has anything to say, I have another place that I’ll be deeming off limits for a while now. I have a few copies of the map, which, I'm just going to hand around.” He hands a small wad to Jimmy, and he takes a few, passing the rest along to the person beside him (Shubble).

“As you probably heard, it’s a candle of massive size, and we’re interested in the implications it may have for Pixandrian history.”

“Why do you have a new discovery every month we come to these meetings?” Joel complains, peering at the map. “It’s like there’s stuff everywhere.”

“Because there is stuff everywhere, Joel.” Pixl says, a little sharper than normal. “And we’re working on uncovering the past so we can try and find out what caused the cataclysmic event during the Age of Empires. We don't want to accidentally cause another one by unveiling an unknown power.”

“As though anything could beat me, besides, what’s another event going to do? Split the land in half?” He sounds so incredibly self-satisfied, and not even in the kinda attractive way Tango is sometimes. Just in a conceited, self-proclaimed god way. “Not like it can affect me anyway, we’re in the sky.”

“We all know, Joel,” Pixl gestures around them, “Seeing as you like to prattle on about it.”

“Not my fault I'm better than all of you.” He shrugs, eyes trailing to land on Jimmy. It feels purposeful, and he has to take several deep breaths to keep his shoulders in the relaxed line they're currently in. No point in showing that he’s being irritated by him, it’ll only make it worse.

“Thank you, Joel.” Sausage hovers a hand over his shoulder, not quite touching him, but it's enough to get the god’s attention. He briefly wonders if the rumours about them having a secret child are true, dismissing it a moment later when Sausage turns to him.

Sheriff?” He says, “Have you got anything to add?”

“The creeper farm’s flourishing,” he sits up a little straighter, a lot more self-conscious about the dust on his shirt, he really shouldn't have worn a white shirt for this, with so many eyes on him than before, “It’s mating season, meaning we’ll likely have a few more creepers stumbling around over the next few months.”

“Nothing else to say?” Joel asks, prodding.

“Not that I can think of, no.” He turns to look at him. Joel looks…a little more smug than he did five minutes ago, grinning like the cat that got the canary. It makes him a bit uneasy as he watches him, waiting for him to make the first move.

“Well,” Joel breaks the silence first, everyone around the table waiting, almost holding their breath, to see how this is going to play out, “I heard rumours that a rather notorious bandit got caught the other day going after your creepers. I just wondered what happened to him, and if the creepers were fine afterwards?” He pauses, looking at Jimmy, “You do have him imprisoned right? He’s got enough offences, even petty ones, to be sent to one of the larger prisons.”

“We’ve got him perfectly contained.” He doubts Tango’s even left bed yet. He prefers to laze around in the mornings, only becoming more active as the heat of the day intensifies. Something about being a netherborn originally, depending on their environment to keep them warm rather than their central flame. He can't say he understood it completely, but he didn't mind the excuse to lay in bed with him when the opportunity arose.

“So I've heard.” Joel grins a little more, and he hears Sausage give a hiccupping laugh that lets him know he’s in on this too. He kind of liked Sausage too. “Tell me, Sheriff, do you normally keep well-renowned bandits prisoner in your house, or is this just something special for the Red Bandit?”

There’s a few gasps through the room as people twist to stare at him, obviously waiting for his reaction. He doesn't give them much of one, ears pulling back a little as he stares at Joel. Glaring is probably a little more accurate, but he doesn't want to give the man any more energy than is completely necessary.

“I don't think you know what you're talking about.” He says, trying to keep a level voice. He succeeds quite well, he thinks, and Pixl bumps his knee under the table. Just letting him know he’s there. He doesn't turn to look at him, no need to involve him in this when he’s got it nicely under control so far. “Maybe you want to elaborate a little?” He may be digging himself a deeper hole here, but he says it anyway, anger making the words bubble over before he can consider them.

“I mean, your little town is just in the path of another empire, so I'm regularly flying over it, you know, with wings.” He halfway stretches a wing out behind him, the golden and brown feathers glimmering in the light. “And I could hear someone talking about a lovely little bet they had going on in the town, and how the Deputy lost a bet because the Sheriff couldn't keep his hands to himself for another week.” He pauses, for dramatic effect, obviously. It makes him want to throttle the other. “And, well, I couldn't help but listen in a little more.”

“I’d be careful what you say.” He replies, “How does the saying go? Something about glass houses?” Joel doesn't even flinch, smirk staying so firmly glued on his face. He’s pretty sure it’s his default expression at this point.

“I don't have anything to hide.” He spreads his arms out, “We’re all friends here, aren't we? And we’re all so happy for your new…ventures in courting.”

“I'm sure there was a lot of courting between you and Sausage for that illegitimate child you two are passing back and forth like neither of you quite want it, but you're too afraid of the repercussions to stop. But correct me if I'm wrong.”

Joel flounders for the first time, and Sausage’s face goes a bright red. It’s almost enough to be worrying.

“Oh come on, Jimmy. None of us are judging you for it, we all know that a bandit is the best you can do with a town as small as yours. We don't hold you against you, we just…don't respect you for it.” Joel grins, and it’s sharp this time. Mean.

He stands from the table, chair skidding back but not falling over. “I'm done with this meeting.” He declares, looking around every person there. “Please, feel free to continue gossiping about me, but see how forthcoming I am with the resources that allow you flight when you're not as blessed as Joel over here is. Try wrangling creepers yourself,” he pauses in the doorway, turning back, “I hope they blow up in your face.”

He doesn't slam the door behind him, as much as he aches to do it. He wants to have a salvageable relationship with a few of the other rulers if they decide to take his side after this, and slamming the door like he’s having a tantrum won't help with that.

He gives the person at the front desk a nice smile, before exiting from the too-clean building and back into the humid jungle air, looking around for Arrow.

He spots her quickly, in a stall beside several other horses. She’s still saddled up and ready to go, and he mounts her quickly, thanking the person for looking after her while he was in a meeting.

He doesn't wait for their response, walking Arrow down the cobbled street and ignoring the dirty looks a few of the residents throw his way as he steers a horse through the throng of people. He’s polite about it, waiting until he’s far out of the crowds before picking up the pace.

Arrow’s shoes clatter against the cobbles as she trots along, echoing around them as the buzz of Sanctuary fades behind him and the evidence of civilization melts back into the forest, then into a grassland again.

Arrow takes to the grass with reckless abandon, and he allows her to, loosening the reins and allowing her to charge forward. He tries not to think about Joel’s words, but they circle his head anyway, an endless loop that just goes round and round, with nothing but the sound of the wind in his ears to drown it out.

He’s shaking by the time he arrives back at Tumble Town, several hours earlier than he said he would be. Arrow is panting when he dismounts her, his own hooves thumping into the dirt of the town.

His Deputy peeks out of the office, spotting him and darting across the street to come speak to Arrow. She adores his horse, stroking a gentle hand along her neck and whispering something to her he doesn't quite catch over the roaring in his ears.

“Could you take her for me?” He asks, and she looks up, before nodding and taking her reins off of him. She hesitates before beginning to lead Arrow away, giving him a long look.

“Tango’s at your house, Sheriff. I think he was waiting for you to be back.”

“Thank you.” He spares her a smile, before turning to return to his house. It’s a short walk. Everything’s a short walk in the town, and he finds himself appreciating that, as it leaves him with less time to be alone with his thoughts before he’s pushing the door open.

He can smell something burning from the kitchen, poking his head in and watching Tango cooking. He’s still angry, feeling like he might start burning at any second from the words Joel had so carelessly hurled at him. But burning is Tango’s job, and he’s not looking to steal it.

“Oh!” Tango startles when he turns around, a plate of incredibly burnt toast in hand. He doesn't understand how Tango can enjoy eating something that looks like a piece of charcoal. But he has also seen Tango eat a piece of charcoal. So. “I wasn't expecting you home yet.”

“Neither was I.” He mutters, and Tango frowns, tilting his head slightly.

“Everything go alright?” He sits down at the kitchen table, and he follows suit, resting his arms on the small and rickety thing.

“Probably could have gone better.” He pinches at the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “Probably could have gone a lot better.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” he hears a crunch of overly done toast, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Kinda?” He opens his eyes to look at Tango. Tango makes him feel better, with his jokes, and his pretty eyes, and his endearing smile. “I mean, it was Joel.” Tango makes a disgusted noise at that, and he can't help but agree with him. “I knew he didn't like me, but he was insulting you. That’s a step too far.”

“Oh.”

“He was just being rude the whole time, poking and prodding me until I was in the exact spot he wanted me in. It was all a set up from the start. He came in there looking to tell me that I could do better,” he spits, “As if you aren't the best thing to happen to me on this continent. As though he doesn't know anything about what he’s saying.”

He doesn't realise his hands are shaking until Tango takes them in his own, easing his hands a little to stop him from digging his nails into his skin. They hurt a little as Tango carefully pries them open, interlacing their fingers.

“And you know he’s wrong.” He says, “We both know he’s wrong.” He looks at him with searching eyes, looking over his face in a way that makes him feel oddly seen. He doesn't mind it particularly, he likes the way Tango just seems to understand him without judgement. “Oh Jimmy,” Tango frowns, “C’mere.” He stands from the table, coming halfway round to meet him.

He wraps his arms around Tango, holding him close and breathing in slowly. He breathes out again as Tango wraps his arms around him, pressing a kiss into his hair before stroking through it with gentle fingers, working through the knots in it.

“I wanted to kill him.” He says.

“From what I've heard, I'm of a similar notion myself.” Tango laughs, and the sound lightens him a little. He breathes in again, absorbing the smell of smoke and lava and crimson wood. Tango hums a little, a purr rumbling out of his throat with the sound as he brushes his hand through his hair again, scratching around the base of his horns slightly.

He feels Tango press another kiss into his hair, melting a little further into his embrace and the warmth that seems to wrap entirely around him. It’s not stifling, even in the arid mesa heat. He breathes, listening to the sound of Tango breathing alongside him.

There’s a smell of burnt toast in the air, but Joel’s still wrong because he doubts anyone could do better than Tango.

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

I love the idea that Nobby likes James; even sorta respects him! What about Nobby and Gordon? I bet Nobby isnt so impressed by bossy big blue babey Gord

Oop, started to respond and then saved this to drafts. And then I forgot about it. Sorry.

I didn't want to answer at once, though, because when I received this we were only about two-thirds of the way through Springtime, and I thought it would be better to talk about this after the story was over.

Because now you've had a chance to see Nobby bossing someone else around mercilessly — and then, on a dime, going into utter, catastrophizing meltdown the minute he himself suffers a mild indignity.

So I hope it makes sense when I say that Nobby and Gordon have some similarities!

Another is that Nobby actually was, in his youngest years, a similar sort of all-important savior-of-the-railway company flagship. His domain was much smaller than Gordon's, of course, but he had the same absolute primacy and pride. And much like the youngest Gordon it's really not that Nobby was a bad sort, but a fellow engine trying to make him see sense when he was on his high horse was just a fool's errand. (Nobby was a lot more respectful of human authority in those early years... which you may consider to make the situation better or worse, lol. He definitely had—and still has!—more of a temper than Gordon, though, and can be way pettier. The counterbalance is that he has higher ideals and a better ability to relate to other engines.)

A final thing they have in common is that they conceive of and hatch rather daring ideas. Leadership qualities run strong in them both.

Of course, none of this means that Nobby will recognize these similarities. Or that they will in any way dispose him to think kindly of the infant galloping sausage.

Hmm, I reserve the right for this to change as I write, but in general I just think Nobby doesn't at first take much notice of Gordon particularly (heresy, I know!). In the same era Gordon is arriving, so are several absurdly large new Sodor engines and to him they are all ill-mannered whelps.

He doesn't get as steamed up about any of them as much you might think, though, because they are fundamentally Not His Problem. His railway is undergoing Grouping at the time — he has bigger fish to fry. Anyway, if any of his lot were a fourth as rude as the Big Blue Bastards, he'd tear them to shreds, but that's because he knows they were taught better and he expects more from them. Nobby kind of regards Gordon in the at first as a sort of orphan. Not in the sense he pities him but that he kind of half despises him as a poorly brought-up urchin and half thinks it's a shame that no one did better by him.

Nobby has definitely at times told Edward, when Edward has the dubious fortune of bringing a train over the bridge, that he must really tell that Gresley to do this or not do that or to act in such-a-such way.

At which point you can imagine Edward just staring at him with weary disbelief. Nobby, you don't tell Gordon things... it's a waste of good steam.

Nobby thinks this is making excuses, lol. To his mind it's entirely Edward's responsibility to Coppernob all those lost boys into respectable engines. Put your frames into it, son.

[steam-beasts]

Thomas and the Magic Railroad

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One; Really Reliable and Always on Time

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello there, my name is Mr Conductor. Well..."Mr Conductor the Third", but like the others beforehand, I just go by Mr Conductor anyway. Now, where were we? Oh yes, now I remember...I'm here to tell you a story.

A story about heartbreak, magic, folks far apart and the magic railroad that brought them all together.

The story begins with a little blue engine who was late to the big station...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was another beautiful day on the island of Sodor. The Northwestern Railway was as busy as usual, especially at Knapford Station where Gordon was waiting semi-patiently for his express coaches. Thomas was supposed to have shunted them to him by now, but he appeared to be running late.

Please stay a metre away from the gap to ensure safety, folks!" The guard called out, ushering everyone away from the edge of the platform. They all grumbled in discontent. Gordon felt exactly the same, looking around for a certain blue tank engine.

"Oh, where is that tank engine with my coaches? I'm going to be LATE! The express is NEVER late!" He grumbled, looking up at the clock. He then heard a high pitched whistle, but to his dismay it wasn't Thomas – it was Percy and his mail train. He stopped beside him on the other track as some men from the mini post office came out hauling bags of parcels and letters to load on his mail cars.

Percy peeped brightly "Good morning, Gordon! Aren't you supposed to be away with the Express?" He asked, noting the time.

Gordon wheeshed grumpily "I WOULD already be gone, Little Percy. But unfortunately, Thomas hasn't shunted in my coaches yet, and the Express can't go! It's...it's...disgraceful!"

"...I mean, I personally don't think it's disgraceful. So what if the Express is delayed?" Percy said, genuinely not understanding Gordon's grumpiness.

Gordon scoffed "Pah! You tank engines will never understand the importance of the Express!"

Percy huffed, rolling his eyes "Oh whatever, Galloping Sausage" he muttered loudly. He heard his mail truck's doors slam shut and whistled before heading off once again, leaving Gordon by his lonesome once more.

Gordon groaned at Percy's dismissive attitude "Silly tank engine. Important engines like me can't wait around like this..." he eyed the clock, thinking back to Thomas and narrowed his eyes "...I swear, I'll begin counting seconds if Thomas is anymore late" he grumbled

_________

This is where the "little blue engine" I mentioned earlier comes in. Thomas was sleeping in his shed that day, unknowing of how late he was. I still wonder why his crew didn't bother waking him? Then again, they were probably letting him sleep since he had to pull a late night goods train the other night...

Edward yawned as he rolled out of his berth, stopping momentarily to take in his surroundings. Soon, he began hearing faint snores coming from a couple berths away and gazed over to see none other than Thomas sleeping in his berth.

The old engine looked up at the clock, knowing that the Express was nearly due in a few minutes. Edward then quietly gasped, spotted Thomas' crew who were both sitting on some stools drinking coffee and reading some books.

Edward's surprised look turned into one that was certainly not impressed in the slightest.

"Excuse me?!" Edward whispered harshly, luckily catching the man's attention. The driver looked up at Edward with a grumpy look "What?" He asked bluntly.

"Why aren't you waking Thomas up?! He's got to help prepare the express!"

The driver simply shrugged "Late night yesterday, Ed. Let an engine sleep" He remarked flatly before focusing on his book once more. Edward tutted at this behaviour, and so decided to take matters into his own...erm...wheels.

Slowly and quietly, Edward steamed on to the turntable, instructed the operator and carefully, the turntable creaked as it turned the Larger Seagull to face the E2's berth. Edward then puffed forth in as much silence as he could make, and gently but firmly biffed Thomas.

Thomas jolted a bit and woke up instantly, backing up a little. Once he saw it was only Edward, he smiled and laughed tiredly "Oh, Edward. I didn't hear you coming!" was what he said quietly before yawning. Edward smiled apologetically.

"My apologies, Thomas. But I needed to wake you because...well...you're running late" Edward replied stiffly.

"What do you mean? I've got..." Thomas's eyes wandered up to the nearby small clock tower, which showed it to be 7:30; he was supposed to be at Knapford.

"...NO TIME!" He exclaimed, eyes as wide as his wheels the more he looked at the time. He glared down at his crew, fuming at their lack of responsibility "Driver! Fireman! Why didn't you wake me?!" He exclaimed, a bit angrily. The crew exchanged annoyed glances before begrudgingly getting up and into Thomas's cab.

"Bye Edward!!!" He said to the older engine, who had already reversed off the turntable to make room. Edward watched contently as Thomas was put on the right track and steamed off, whistling goodbye. The K2 whistled back.

He couldn't help but chuckle "Silly lad"

_________

Back at Knapford, it was currently 7:45 and the passengers were getting a bit more irritated. They began questioning when the express was going to depart, much to Gordon's worry. Gordon was now counting each passing minute in seconds, knowing that Thomas hadn't arrived. Yes, he was THAT stressed.

Time was ticking...

"5, 6, 7, 8..." Gordon slowly counted, only to be caught by surprise as his coaches suddenly bumped into him from behind "Gah!"

"Who do we appreciate?" He heard Thomas playfully call out to him as he shunted the coaches towards Gordon, who wasn't impressed "Practicing your numbers, Gordon? That's a good engine!" He puffed cheekily as he switched to another track and stopped beside him.

"I mean, I– I was just counting every second and minute you weren't here, Little Thomas, and you're late with my express coaches!" Gordon stammered incredulously. Thomas rolled his eyes "C'mon, Gordon. There's no harm in being late once in a while! It may not be ideal, but we can't always be early!"

Gordon scoffed "Ha! You wouldn't be saying that to Sir Topham Hatt. His engines are supposed to be really reliable and always on time!". Thomas sighed, knowing he was right but rolled his eyes anyway. Gordon's nothing but a fusspot.

"Well, you've got your coaches NOW. Don't you, Gordon?"

"Yes, but now the Express is –"

"- gonna be late, i know!" The tank engine said with a light-hearted laugh "You worry too much, Gordon!" . Gordon hmph-ed snootily after his passengers boarded. He whistled as he puffed quickly away in a wheesh of steam, away to Vicarstown. Thomas blew raspberry at Gordon while he wasn't looking, much to the botheration of his crew.

"I CAN STILL HEAR YOU!!" The big engine yelled grumpily, disappearing around the corner. After a moment's silence, Thomas's driver popped his head out of the cab window "Oi Thomas, better get a move on to your branchline" He said gruffly.

Thomas rolled his eyes and whistled with pep as he went back to fetch Annie and Clarabel.

Little did he know, in the distance, a Class 42 Warship diesel was watching from behind an old set of untouched trucks. A menacing hydraulic claw attached to his roof.

He watched the scene unravell with a twisted grin on his face.

"The clock's tickin', teapots. Once me and my new pal find the lost engine, you'll all be nothin' but a forgettable memory! Hahaha!!" He cackled as he oiled away.

____________________________________________

Meanwhile in Sir Topham Hatt's office, the controller was on the phone with a friend who lived far from him.

"Now, I know I asked you this before, but are you DEFINITELY sure you can handle the railway for two weeks, especially with the engines?" He asked the person on the other end.

"Positive, sir! I've straightened out a plentiful amount of troublesome trucks in my time working with you. Besides, it's always an honour for the Conductor family to help out on the Sudrain railways"

The stout man chuckled "Well, don't be too harsh or too soft on them. They must keep up the good work!"

"Of course, sir. I'll see you tomorrow" the man on the other end said before hanging up.

That was me! I always love visiting Sodor and helping out...by Sir Topham Hatt's invitation of course. The magic railroad – something that will be spoken more of later on – was secretly connected to Sodor, and is a main base for my family members.

Sir Topham Hatt sighed happily and set down the phone before longingly gazing towards the window. He was hoping that things would be ok, especially with one of his more...delinquent engines back on the island.

The engine was a diesel with quite a bad reputation and attitude.

All the controller hoped was for the railway to stay in one piece while he is gone. He'd hate for anything bad to happen to any of the engines. What if that delinquent diesel tries to stir trouble again? Or one of the engines have a nasty accident?

Oh, who's he kidding? His friend will be able to handle it...

... won't he?

Well, we'll find out soon...

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Christmas Specials: Angel

CW: Implied past parental death, referenced past torture/noncon, memory loss and grief

"It, it should be an, um, a, a-a an angel," Chris says, gazing up at the star on top of the tree. It gleams a warm yellow to match the special lights that wind through the branches, the soft smell of pine and wood. The ornaments weigh it down, a multitude of old childhood things Nat brought with her twenty years ago, plus new ornaments added over time by every rescue who has lived here through Christmas and even a few who didn’t. 

Chris picked his out at Hallmark with Nat last week. He chose a little cardinal on a snowy tree branch with a scarf and earmuffs on. He doesn’t know why. But he runs one finger over the top of its little head in thought. 

Nat, crouching down by the bright red, gigantic rubbermaid with Christmas Ornaments + whatever else written on the lid in big black sharpie letters, looks up. “What?”

Chris keeps petting the little porcelain cardinal with one finger, staring up at the star. “Why isn't it, um, an, an angel, Nat?”

"Not sure exactly. I've always done a star," Nat replies, carefully choosing a small ornament shaped like a horse in mid-gallop, covered in elaborately carved and painted Western tack. She slips the little hook into the small metal ring on the horse’s back and hangs it in an empty spot on the tree, smiling.

She looks over to see an expression of something like upset on Chris's face, his eyebrows furrowed, bouncing uncertainly on his toes. "It, it should be an angel," He repeats, insistent. “It, it should be. Um, an… an angel. A star isn’t-... isn’t, isn’t right. It should be, be, be-be-be… should be-, an, an angel.”

His voice drops a little, and he picks at the hem of his oversized t-shirt with one hand, rocking a little until Nat puts a hand to his shoulder and he stops. 

"Chris, is this bothering you? That it’s a star?” Nat and Jake meet eyes where he's hanging garland along the mantle, knowing later Nat will go all-in on her Midwestern roots and pull out the Christmas-themed baskets to decorate it.

“It’s not right,” Chris says, even more firmly this time. He shakes his head, rocking again, forward and back. “It’s, it’s always supposed to be, to be angels.” He makes a soft sound of frustration, hands moving up to his hair, twisting into the copper, yanking hard. “Supposed, supposed to be-”

Nat takes his hands in hers and gently lowers them again, pressing his palms into his stomach. “Tap, Chris. Don’t pull your hair out, please. Let’s do the ones that don’t hurt, okay?”

He doesn’t answer her, but he starts up the familiar movements of his fingers, finger-twist-tap-tap-tap, and he doesn’t go for his hair again. “Angels,” He mumbles. “Should be a, um, angel on the, the, the tree. Didn’t have a tree the, the last time, we were-... gonna go, go get the tree after Thanksgiving, it, um, it was-...” 

The room is perfectly still as he falls silent, rocking harder. 

 "Did you-...” Nat is quiet for a moment, deciding where to take this line of questioning, what is the safest way to ask. “Are you… used to angels, Chris? Did you have an angel tree-topper as a kid?”

He’s still a kid.

He’s still so young. 

Chris isn’t looking at her, still rocking a little, looking up at the star, gnawing on a chapped spot of skin on his lower lip that he’s already managed to make bleed this week. He pinches his finger and thumb around a few pine needles, releasing their scent even more strongly into the air. "She, she always did angels,” He whispers.

Then he winces, cries out in pain, and the moment's gone, along with the memory. They hold him through the headache until it passes, through his tears, but he’s never able to explain.

Within a half an hour he’s forgotten he ever mentioned angels at all, forgotten anything but the awful spike of pain the headache brings on the heels of any thought or memory they aren’t allowed to have.

She refuses to be frustrated - this is a common part of memory recovery in rescues, how things seem to come and go, slipslide through their minds. It’ll come back, sooner or later. She has to believe that - and that even if it doesn’t, it doesn’t matter, they still deserve the new memories to be their own.

Every time he walks past the tree, though - as Nat’s presents for her rescues start to build up, and she takes each of them out to find gifts to give Jake and their fellow rescues, too - his eyes don’t linger on the somewhat haphazardly wrapped boxes. 

They go to the star.

She gives Jake a few twenties from her wallet and tells him to go shopping. He sheepishly pulls out the small red box he’d already bought, five steps ahead of her when it comes to Chris as usual.

They wrap the box together. 

On Christmas Eve, Nat insists on cooking, while Antoni hovers nervously around her and offers, time and time again, to do whatever he can to help. She refuses, but lets him set the table before having Jake take him outside to sit down with a drink and watch the Christmas lights. It seems to calm the part of Antoni that needs always to be serving, the part they are trying so hard to get him to drop. 

Chris wanders through the dining room on his way, getting himself some lemonade in the kitchen and giving her a hug. Krista is moving into her own place in the next month or so and she heads out onto the porch, too, making the most of her last few days in the house. Even Leila, quiet watchful thoughtful Leila, finds her way out there, too.

Which leaves Nat in the kitchen putting together everything she remembers from her own childhood. 

It’s a feast.

Beef tips out of the oven with gravy and thick, chewy noodles, little sausages in a crockpot with grape jelly and barbecue sauce, corn casserole more like savory pudding than anything else, scalloped potatoes that have as much cheese as they do actual potatoes, a salad to pretend anyone’s getting nutritional value out of this, queso dip that comes cheap out of a glass jar with tortilla chips, chopped fruit tossed with sugar… this one day each year, Nat lets herself indulge in what she grew up with, what she misses about home. 

Once it’s all ready, she calls them back in. She watches Chris’s eyes widen as he enters first, seeing how she’s pulled out the extra eaves to extend the table, the sheer weight of the food that has taken her three full days of work to put together, the seasonal plastic tablecloth and placemats under every single plate. 

“Chris, you’ll sit right here,” She says warmly, putting her hand against the back of one of the chairs. 

He moves immediately - then hesitates, going still, glancing over his shoulder back at Jake, who smiles back, reassuring. When his eyes go back to his seat, Nat watches him tapping on himself, soothing his sudden jangling nerves. Not grabbing at his hair or scratching himself. Good sign. “Nat, what’s-... what’s, what’s that?”

She moves away to give him space. “What’s what, honey?”

“The, um, the… the the, the box. On my plate. What, what is it for?” He’s trusting, her youngest rescue, like all of them and yet even more than most. He wasn’t meant to have thoughts or skills outside the horrors that he was held for, didn’t develop himself enough to run, he hadn’t gotten a sense that his world wasn’t right enough to develop his own sense of self. That started here, in this house, under Nat’s protection. 

She doesn’t take this responsibility, to help him mold himself into someone he will want to be, lightly. 

He’s trusting, but in this moment, he’s unsure. She wonders how many times he has been given gifts that hurt, that were designed to hurt.

“One last thing for the tree. Open up and find out.”

“But, but Christmas is, is um, is, is tomorrow.”

“Oh, honey.” He loves when she calls him that, every endearment - except sweetheart and darling, and those she has gathered were weapons, once, used against him - and he flushes, looking down and smiling a little, red hair drifting over his eyes. “I never take my tree down before New Year’s. One year I got it late and we kept that sucker up until Valentine’s Day. Go ahead and open the box.”

His fingers are so long and delicate, as he carefully works up the tape that keeps one end of the box closed. Slipping it open comes easily enough, working the styrofoam packing on the inside out is a little more difficult. The squeak of styrofoam against cardboard makes him grit his teeth and Nat herself winces.

But then it’s out, and he lays the square of crumbling white styrofoam down on the paper, carefully lifting the top half away to reveal what it was protecting inside. 

His eyes widen, and he reaches out, touching a rough-edged tinsel halo wrapped around a wire, running one finger down from the top of a porcelain forehead to the tip of a gently wrought nose, the cupid’s-bow lips, rounded hair. He looks up at Nat as his fingers find the stiff, scratchy fabric of the figurine’s cream-and-gold robes. “An, angel? Nat?”

“For the tree, Chris. You said you wanted an angel.” Nat moves back to lay a hand in the center of his back, and he leans to the side, his head tucking into the crook of her neck like always. “Jake and I figured opening one present on Christmas Eve wouldn’t be so bad. D’you want to put it up?”

“Yes,” He says, in a low soft voice. “She, um, she, she… she she… she always had angels, on the, um, the tree.”

“Chris, can I ask?” She rests her chin atop his head, his fine soft hair tickling her skin. “Who is she? Who are you talking about?”

He shakes his head a little, like shaking water out of his ears. “I, I don’t know.” It’s a confession, admission of guilt, more than an answer. “I don’t, don’t, don’t know who. But… but I know she had, had an angel, she said she bought it when, um, when when I was a, a, a a a a baby…”

Mother, then, most likely. She and Jake make eye contact, and he nods, stepping out of the room to go write it down. Every single memory, no matter how slight, could help them put enough together to find whoever might be looking for him out there. And it gives Dr. Berger a place to start delicately working out what is hidden under all the scar tissue in their minds. 

“She threw it, it, it away,” Chris mutters, eyes closed. “With, with everything else.”

“Your mom did?”

“No. Some... someone else.”

“Well, let’s get the angel up there, then,” Nat says gently, as Chris slides his arms around her waist. His voice is going ragged, and she needs to pull him back from the edge before he tips over into the light. “Then all you hungry people can eat.”

“Aren’t you, you hungry? You’ve been cooking all, all, all, all all day.”

“All days. But no, I’ve tasted a little of everything already. Come on, then-”

The door blows open in a bluster of wind and Kauri steps in, cheeks red from the hint of chill in the air, blue eyes warm and sparkling. He looks better today than he did last week - Nat wonders, briefly, if he’s been staying with someone, instead of trying to sleep in park bathrooms or the cold. “Am I late for dinner?”

“Not at all, Kauri. Will Keira be joining us?”

Keira does not consume, comes a muffled voice from inside Kauri’s backpack. He grins and drops it in the entryway, unzipping to take the Roomba out and set it on the coffee table where visual sensors can take in the tree. 

He glances back at the rest of them, and asks brightly, “What’s for dinner? Smells… huh.” He pauses, looks at the table. A strange look passes over his face, like a man seeing someone he knows but can’t quite place. “It smells really good in here.”

“I should hope so. Can you help Chris switch the star on the tree out for this? It’s brand new.” She picks the angel up out of the styrofoam and Chris grabs it from her, moving into the living room with it held in his hands like something infinitely precious and breakable.

Something so easily lost.

“Cool, an angel.” Kauri cocks his head to the side. “Why’d you get that?”

“Because,” Chris says, with earnest sincerity, and a little sadness. “It’s always, um, supposed to, to, to be an angel. It was always a, an angel before.”

Kauri - and Jake, who reappears shortly after to give his many inches of height to assist them - helps Chris get the angel light up on the tree, warm glow emanating from its robes, and Chris declares it better, now. 

He murmurs to himself, “She’d, she’d like it better with an angel.”

No one asks him what he said, or to elaborate.

By the time he’s on his second helping of dinner, he’s forgotten that the thought ever passed his mind.

But Nat hasn’t.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly  @newandfiguringitout  , @doveotions  , @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @moose-teeth  , @cubeswhump  , @cupcakes-and-pain  @whump-tr0pes  @whumpiary  @orchidscript, @itallcomesdowntopain

[johannstutt413]

(requested by calligomiles)

“Good morning, Doctor!” Grani walked into his office and gave him a salute. “Officer Grani reporting as ordered!”

The mask on his face smiled at her. “Morning, Officer Grani. Have an assignment for you, should you choose to accept it.”

“Should I choose to accept it? Well, of course I’ll accept it! What can I do to help?” No doubt in her mind, whatever it was, she could take care of it.

“It’s not police work, or crime-stopping, or anything super flashy, but I know that’s not what you’re about anyway.” He opened a drawer, pulled out a file, and showed her a picture. “Do you know Rosa, by any chance?”

The Kuranta shook her head. “Not personally, no, but I’ve seen her around before.”

“Good, that’s better than nothing. I want you to be her friend.”

“...That’s it?” She chuckled. “Shucks, I thought you were going to give me something challenging, the way you built it up. Rosa, right? We’ll be besties even if it’s not a mission, and you can count on that.”

The Doctor nodded. “Keep in mind, officer, I wouldn’t give you this assignment if I expected just anyone to be capable of-”

“I should probably go and find her now - it’s nearly lunchtime. Bye, Doctor! Have a good day!” And with all the speed her little legs could carry her, she was gone.

“And she’s gone.” He sighed. “She’ll probably be fine, but I’ve never seen her run off like that...”

Ran off she did; Grani initially planned to check everywhere for the Ursus, but after some more thought, she realized where she’d seen her: at the Logistics desk, shuffling paperwork. Making a beeline there paid off, as Rosa was in fact at that same desk, moving paper from one box to one of two smaller boxes. As the Kuranta entered through the double doors, the noble pulled together a smile. “Good morning; how can I help you?”

“Oh, I’m not here on business. Are you taking your lunch break soon?”

“I will be, yes.” Rosa cocked her head. “May I ask why you wish to know that?”

The officer flashed her a far more genuine smile and a two-for-one coupon for a Siracusan pizza place. “I can’t use this coupon by myself, so I was wondering if you like pizza. My treat!”

“Hmm...Miss Dobermann was saying I should watch what I eat more closely, but I suppose a few slices couldn’t hurt. I’m ready to leave when you are.” She stood up from her chair, grabbing a purse from behind the desk and sliding it over her shoulder.

“Awesome!” Grani walked over to her, offering her arm. “Let’s go!”

Natalya took her arm-in-arm, although somewhat confused. “Officer Grani, is it? Why do you need my arm?”

“So I don’t lose you on the way there, of course. Off we go!” And at a nice gallop, she sped off, noble in tow.

‘What is going on here?’ The Ursus thought to herself as she was whisked away to Pizza Castle. ‘I barely know who she is, and here we are, racing off for lunch together. Then again, I’ve read a few romance novels that worked like this, but that couldn’t be it, could it? Hmm...We’ll see, I suppose.’

Parked at a table, sharing an outwardly-facing booth that might as well have been a couch, her suspicions only seemed to cement themselves as the Kuranta started up a conversation. “So, Rosa, how’s the office treating you?”

“I admit, I was anticipating more field missions after becoming an official Operator, but Logistics suits me well enough. Are you working on a case, officer, or...”

“Huh? No, I’m off-duty for a while; Doctor told me to take some time for myself.” She cheered when the pizza arrived. “Alright! Thick or thin crust, Rosa?”

Rosa was reaching for the pizza cutter as she asked. “I can get it myself.”

“You’d have to reach over the table to reach the cutter, though, right?” Grani already had the other that’d been brought to the table in her hand.

“True, but...Alright. Thin crust, please.” Wait, how was she in a better position to do this when she was so noticeably smaller? “I’m still a bit confused on the reason you asked me to come with you.”

The Kuranta smiled as she handed her a pizza-piled plate. “Well, there’s a saying where I’m from: a stranger’s just a friend you haven’t met yet. I wanted to meet you today.”

“...Why, though?” Still wasn’t computing.

“Well, that’s a good question.” The officer took a bite of veggie supreme, taking her time with it. “I guess because I want to be your friend.”

Was she messing with her now? “Yes, but why?”

“Oh! That’s what you’re confused about? I mean, there’s really not another reason; I want to be friends because I want to.”

“Ah.” Rosa, realizing she had nothing to add from there, simply nodded as she enjoyed her sausage pizza. “I only know one other person who can think like that, but we’re both so busy nowadays...”

Grani gave her a pat/rub on the shoulder. “Well, I’m not going to be busy for the next couple weeks, so you can count on me!”

“Right.” The Ursus didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but she still didn’t know this woman from a Knight-

“Here; that’s my cell number.” Did she just carry around cards with her number on them? “If you need anything, anything at all, just give me a call, and I’ll come running.”

She took the card and pocketed it; it’d be rude to put her number in her phone at the table with her. “I’ll keep you in mind.”

“Great! Oh, hey, waiter? Can we refills, please?”

‘Oh...When did I run out of water? And how did she notice before me?’ Natalya looked at Grani curiously. ‘And why me?’

-----------

Several hours later, as the sun began to set after a long day of work, Rosa was in her apartment, lying on her couch, looking at the card she’d taken and wondering what would happen if she called the Kuranta right now. Surely she’d be tired, too, but maybe she’d be free to talk?...That would be nice. She decided to take the chance, pulling out her phone and clicking in the digits. Less than one ring later, “Hello, Officer Grani speaking?”

“Good evening, Grani-”

“Rosa! Hi!” That was...much more enthusiasm than expected. “Want me to swing by?”

Huh? Well, honestly, “you’re not busy?”

“I might be off-duty, but my brain doesn’t know that yet. Heh. See you in a minute?”

“Sure thing.” Actually, while she was out, the noble had an idea. “Would you mind grabbing some vanilla ice cream?”

The officer chuckled. “You read my mind. I’ll be right over!”

“Thank you, Grani!” When was the last time she’d cheered like that? This- This had to be love, right? All the books said this was how love was supposed to feel, didn’t they? But how? They’d only known each other for a few hours now…

“Hey, Rosa, I’m here!” Knock knock. “Can I come in?”

The Ursus roused herself from the mental fog that’d slowly enveloped her enough to open the door. “Good eveni- that’s a large tub of ice cream.”

“I thought you might like leftovers!” It was at least two gallons of ice cream.

“That’s a good point. Thank you.” Why was she so damn cute? Was it the sheer enthusiasm, or maybe the fact that even her sweatpants had the thigh cutouts? “I must admit, I’m still not used to the thought of you being so...available.”

Grani shrugged as she went to the kitchen, ice cream in tow, and rummaged around for an ice cream scoop. “Just part of the deal, I guess. Hey, where do you keep your ice cream scoop?”

“Oh, I don’t have one; I eat from the tub itself usually.”

“Oh! Convenient.” Two spoons later, and the Kuranta was sitting on the couch, ice cream on a TV tray between them. “So, anything you wanna talk about?”

Rosa shook her head. “Not particularly, no. I just was...lonely, I suppose. After lunch, I didn’t see another person while I was at the office.”

“Not a one? That must’ve been awful.” Stupid TV tray blocked her from anything more than a pat on the shoulder. This would’ve been a great time for a hug.

“The strange part is that normally I’m used to it,” the noble replied. “I spend a great deal of time in my own head, but after we left, it took barely a few minutes before I missed you.”

The officer blinked, setting her spoon on the tray. “You didn’t call me, though?”

“I didn’t want to be a bother. Of course, now that you’re here, I see how silly that was, but at the time, it made sense.” She sighed, a faintly self-deprecating smile glued to her face.

“Well, shoot. If I’d known, I never would’ve left.” Grani chuckled. “Honestly, I thought you might need a little break, but it sounds like you hadn’t had enough of me yet.”

Natalya turned to look at her, and the words fell out of her mouth. “How could I possibly have enough of you?”

“I mean, some people think I’m a bit high-energy-”

“But that’s what makes you so precious!” There were two thoughts in Rosa’s mind at this point: ‘Stop playing all your cards, damnit!’ and ‘Heheh, pretty horse compliments go brrrr.’

That did elicit a blush from the Kuranta. “Precious, eh?”

“Absolutely...I don’t know what came over me just then,” she muttered once she was back in control of her own voice.

“Aw, that’s alright.” The officer stood up and sat down on the other side of the Ursus before giving her a side-hug. “Much better~”

As Grani set her head on her shoulder, Rosa suddenly felt tears coming to her eyes. “Grani...”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, darlin’. I’m not going anywhere.” Especially not now holy shit she made a great pillow.

“...Good.” The noble’s fingers found their way to the Kuranta’s hair. “I didn’t know people could fall for each other so fast in real life.”

The officer would’ve replied to that, asking what she’d meant by ‘love,’ but honestly? Being this close to her right now, she understood exactly how she felt.

[wolfofwinchester]

How's that marriage going with that weirdo? Think he goes by Alaric?

send my muse anons about their relationships. / concerning @casketdweller

"If you're going to have the pluck to say my beloved "weirdo"s name, at least do him the good justice of saying it right: Alaricious. Alaricious Ó Ceallacháin - or Callahan, or Callows, for the ones who tumble over their own tongue and need to water it down for the Queen's English." Claudia criticized impassively - and dishonestly - from her perch in the window, followed by the sharp click at the corner of her lips like flint striking steel and a slow roll of the sapphires in the other's direction. The smooth sphere of wood she'd been carving away at was given a break from its shaping, rolled down her forearm instead and bounced to be caught in leather-gloved fingers, dusted with oak chips.

How is that marriage going with that "weirdo"? Well, it was only last week when the infamous duo took Marie & Louis on a gallop down to the shoreline for a secret lunch, and the couple became accosted by a frisky crab who refused to surrender a toothpick'd sausage. And, it was just this morning when Claudia swept the man off his feet and ferried him down the sweeping staircase like a bride to the foyer, maids clearly minding their own business but hushing giggles behind feathered dusters and varnish rags.

And, it was just four hours ago when a bit of teasing in a hat shop transferred into a heated rollick in an alleyway, throaty huffs glossed over by the very loud shouting of a newspaper boy yarning on about the misadventures of the Yard once more being eluded by a thief growing in fame of jewel pilfering.. Which may well be the reason why the Countess is very much favoring staying seated instead of roaming about her inquirer as she generally was wont to do. Energy being saved for an escapade written on a letter just five feet away beneath an enthusiastically purchased fascinator.

If Claudia slowed her world down to rest for anything, anything at all, it was for a dance.

A rough leather tip rubbed at its ring finger, twisting the wedding band hidden well beneath. How surprised she was still, to know the man who was so untraditional, so cut from the rest, still said yes - especially when it wasn't the most graceful of proposals, as contrast to how very polished his way of romance was. If he'd'a done it, there was no doubt in her mind it would have had a lot of thought and a lot of meticulous detail to make it just right, scenery refined and glowing in candlelight - or at least, that's what she clearly figured. But instead, it went her way, and he got a sweat-drenched woman battered by the night wind seizing him by the hand and her dropping to one knee with a wooden ring she'd long been perfecting.

For a man who surrounded himself with the dead, Azrael Alaric certainly paired himself with a maelstrom of a human being. But, wasn't it poetic in a way? How Death himself circles erratic Life, and Life has interwoven herself with him through every breath, matched fluidly step-for-step. Fated dance partners from beginning to finish, and then all over again.

"The marriage is going very well, little shadow." Claudia finally spoke after contemplating the orb perched on her fingertips, mentally critiquing if she'd gotten the ears of an engraved fox just right. "But I must ask you to speak more respectfully of that Mortician while you and I share the same room."

A dull thunk vibrates by the ear, ghosted by a swift wind chilling the shell. The carving knife found itself embedded quite deep in the bookshelf beside the visitor.

"I've never been known for bein' a good host to those who don't speak kindly of my man while they're in my house," The Irish accent has begun to slip back in, melting down from the sharpened, more "refined" tongue expected from the Head of Phantomhive. "and that is a terrible flaw of mine, I'll admit - because I ain't ever really been one to any who gained word of our weddin'."