#*honks horn miserably*

[deepestturtlepielover]

Gonna draw it

if i could draw:

Odo cheering up Quark post-Little Green Men by shifting into the ship he lost

but like, Odo only has so much mass

so Quark is just miserably meandering around the promenade in like a sentient spaceship version of one of these:

[dragonji]

been doing so well on the neuroticisms front for the past few weeks and idk what changed but major nosedive for the night lol uhm .

[nadvs]

hii i love LOVE love power play! can i ask a blurb where rafe's pissy again so he's a bit hostile to reader but this time she doesn't take his shit? she's kind but this time she wants to reiterate that he can vent but she's not a punching bag

thank you!! ong the man has zero emotional regulation skills 😭 most of the time, she doesn’t take it personally and just makes a joke about him being a brat, but when he crosses a line, she doesn’t play around. blurb set in the power play au.

Rafe presses down on the horn yet again, earning another sigh from you.

This is not how today was supposed to go. He’s already been in the car for three hours just to get to you, and five minutes after picking you up, you hit standstill traffic on the freeway on the way to a place you said is your favorite spot for lunch.

This is the second time he’s seeing you this summer, only a few months of officially dating behind you.

You’d greeted each other affectionately, but his mood turned sour the moment you hit traffic. He honks again, glaring at the bumper of the car ahead of you.

“I don’t think that does anything,” you say lightheartedly.

“How is nobody moving?” he mutters.

“I’ll check when it’s supposed to ease up,” you offer, picking up your phone to open a traffic map. “Yikes. We have two exits to go.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Rafe groans. He wants the purge the stress he’s been under. This is only making it worse.

“Is that all you’ve had today?” you ask, pointing to the empty shaker bottle in the cupholder.

He nods tersely and you decide against making a joke about him being hangry.

He rakes a hand through his hair. He tried hard today. He wanted to look good for you, but his clothes are damp and wrinkled against his skin, and when he looks in the rearview mirror, he can see the fatigue in his eyes.

You clasp your hands together, determined to bring up the mood.

“How was the gym this morning?” you ask. Now that he’s fully healed from his injury, he’s just gotten back into training.

“I’m not even close to hitting what I used to,” he answers, disappointment laced in his tone.

You wince. That wasn’t the right question. He takes his conditioning seriously, and you obviously just reminded him of how much work he has ahead of him.

“We could work out together one day,” you say.

“Sure,” he scoffs, already grown to despise the distance between you. “When?”

You suck your teeth, your patience starting to wear thin at his harsh tone.

“Whenever you’re in a better mood,” you mumble under your breath.

Rafe shakes his head to himself. The last thing he needs is your judgement.

“I’ve been driving for so goddamn long,” he mutters.

“I know,” you empathize, “but we’re finally together again and we’ll be eating lunch soon and we don’t have to be miserable the whole ride there.”

“You think I want to be miserable?” he says with a sarcastic scoff.

“I didn’t say that.”

Rafe bites his tongue from muttering that you’re saying a lot. He only stares forward, trying to remind himself of how shitty he feels when he loses it on you.

You smooth down your pants, the silence biting at you.

“So, we should just not talk until we get there?” you ask. He shrugs in response.

You scowl. Frustration bubbles up inside you. You know your boyfriend well, familiar with how anger is his fallback, and you usually can take it in stride.

But this is too much. It hurts that he’d rather give into his temper than just enjoy being with you.

“You’re being mean,” you say quietly.

“I’m just tired,” he mutters.

“How do you think it makes me feel when you’re like this, especially after we haven’t each other in so long?” you say. “I thought you…”

You trail off into silence, trying to cool yourself down.

“Thought I what?” he mutters.

You swallow hard. You knew going into this relationship that even though you typically think on the bright side, you hold a pessimism about romance that you can’t shake. It rears its ugly head any time you feel like Rafe doesn’t care as much as he says he does.

“I thought you missed me,” you reply.

Rafe grips the steering wheel and says, “I do.”

“So, why make me your punching bag?”

His brows pull together, irritation pricking at him.

“That’s how you feel?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” you reply, on edge.

Rafe’s heart twists in his chest. Underneath the frustration, it hurts that you don’t see that he’s making an effort.

“I try to be better about it,” he says. “I’m always trying.”

You look out the window as he eases on the break, following the slow moving traffic.

“It’s not fair that I have to do this for you every time,” you mumble.

“Do what?”

“Tiptoe around you and talk you through your own emotions,” you say. “Is it that hard to say, I’m tired and hungry and none of that is your fault and I’m sorry I’m taking my bad mood out on you?”

Rafe meets your eyes, guilt seeping into him, cutting overwhelmingly worse than his anger is.

“I am sorry,” he says.

It cracks through your frustration. You have a weak spot for him, you always have, and you can tell by how quick he always is to apologize that he has one for you, too.

“And?” you say.

“I don’t think any of this is on you,” Rafe says. “I just want us to have a good day, alright? You deserve a nice date. Not this.”

You not, a soft smile on your face. He can be rigid and grumpy, but this is why he stole your heart; the softness underneath, the pressure he puts on himself to be lovable, the way that even when he’s annoyed, you can tell that he treasures you.

“Okay,” you say. “We can listen to some music to pass the time.”

“I want to listen to you.”

“You listen to me every night on the phone,” you remind him.

“And?” Rafe replies, echoing your tone.

You roll your eyes and chuckle. He puts his warm, heavy hand on your thigh, making your skin tingle with endearment.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says. “I know I got shit I gotta work on, okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply.

You put your hand on top of his, hope blooming in your chest, louder than the doubt.

[transformers-spike]

How do you think the bots will react when reader opens their abdominal panel and just puts their hands and tug, twirl and twists their mech’s wires? What are you takes on this?

To me I think each bot would react differently, for an example starscream would writhe and squirm as his voice glitches and gets all static and his optics starts flashing uncontrollably

Knockout upon feeling you twirl one of his wires; the headlights on his chassis would flash as he yelps, and tries his best to not scratch you with his sharp talons

And sweet little bumblebee would let out a weak honk from his horn instead of a yelp as you can feel his whole frame buzz against your hand as you twisted on one of his wires

Smokescreen would would start letting his engine go uproar as he tries to hit his internal breaks but fails miserably

OHHH BOYY - it's gonna be chaotic

Bro I think TFP Starscream won't even allow you to do this unless you're like intensely bonded - at which point he's shameless and makes the weirdest noises when he's close to overload

To me wire-play happens a lot in TFA

If you do this with Blurr he sounds like a fax machine and his body starts spasming - but it takes a WHILE to get him off, so you gotta keep up the rhythm and alternate it. Even wire-play is a goddamn workout

Do this to Blitzwing and Random will start cackling like a maniac as he overloads - loves it when you stuff your hands in there and come out with wet sticky wires

[ambernotember]

wip wednesday

tagged by @setmeatopthepyre

They’re silent for the rest of the drive to Hen and Karen’s house, which Tommy vaguely remembered from a few long ago 118 hangouts before Bobby had started at the station. Chimney, Hen, Sal, and himself, celebrating getting rid of another captain waiting out retirement, out on the porch so baby Denny could sleep, at Hen’s place instead of the bar so she could still celebrate with them.

Karen was waiting when they got inside, two mugs of coffee and a bottle of tequila on the table.

Hen checked her phone. “Ravi is almost here. Tommy, be nice to my wife. Karen, do your worst.”

“Her worst?” Tommy stared at Hen, more than a little worried.

“Clearly we’ve all been missing whatever’s going on here,” Hen waved at him, which he took to mean him-and-Buck, “and Karen’s about as neutral a party as you can get and still talk to someone who has at least a bit of an idea of what’s going on.”

“I really don’t think there’s anything to talk about,” Tommy said, wondering if he could get his keys back from Hen.

“You’re miserable, he’s miserable, I think there’s lots to talk about,” Karen said, guiding him to a chair.

“He wasn’t supposed to be miserable,” Tommy said before he could think about it.

“Dumping him wasn’t supposed to make him miserable?” Hen asked, eyebrow arched.

“I, I didn’t dump him, I broke up with him.”

A horn honked outside. “That’s Ravi. Good luck with this one.” Hen leaned in to kiss her wife goodbye.

… it seems like a lot of people have been tagged/posted already today. If you see this consider it a tag for you!

[forwhump]

a/n; as promised, some wren <3 I said somewhere “nothing good happens now for a long time” so here’s some not good things happening >:)

I consider the second part of this whole thing (I’ll pick a title eventually) the “farmhouse arc” & the arcs are all based around the different vibes i felt like writing at the time LOL

this is when i was feeling slasher/serial killer sort of vibes & also hopelessly devastating yearning but worry not: it’s still just horrible shit happening to my (our ?? 👀) favourite little guy <3 (but seriously wren gets tortured in this one)

tw/cw: kidnapping, false imprisonment, sexual slavery, implied rape/noncon, mentions of past rape/noncon, misgendering, transphobia, psychological torture, drowning, burning but with water (boiling ???), mentions of necrophilia, mentions of a living weapon, dehumanization, body fluids

creepy whumper

Wren wakes up in the dark, naked and shivering.

It isn’t the first time, not even close, but something about this time is different. Wrong. He knows even before he’s opened his eyes.

He doesn’t recognize any of the sounds for a long time, a sort of rumble that’s so familiar but out of reach, detached. The floor beneath him moves restlessly, almost vibrating. It isn’t until somebody honks in the distance, laying on the horn, that Wren recognizes the hum of traffic and his throat constricts so tightly it makes him gag.

He’s in a trunk. He’s outside. But there’s none of the relief, there isn’t a deep breath of fresh air, because there are only two people Wren knows that would want to get him out of the district and above ground. Only one of those people, Wren thinks, would throw him in the trunk.

Now he’s alone. He’s more alone than he’s ever been. Trapped, and the farthest from Silas he’s been since he’s known him and Wren can’t save himself. How is he supposed to save himself?

That thing bursts in his throat and Wren screams bloody murder. The car swerves quickly, Wren slides, hits his head pretty hard but screams again, anyway. The car jerks and he hits his head again. He’s naked — he’s so fuckin’ tired of being naked. What’s the last thing he remembers?

What’s the last thing he remembers?

He doesn’t remember anything; nothing that ends with him in the boot of a car. How did he get here? Where’s Silas?

What the fuck happened to Silas?

He isn’t really the type to let Wren get far without him, but Silas has never been above ground, not as much as he remembers. Wren doesn’t even know how long he’s been unconscious, so he can’t even begin to guess how far they’ve gotten. Not that knowing that would even do him any good, seeing as Wren has no idea where they came from, doesn’t have the first clue where the district might be. How is Silas ever going to catch up? How is ever going to find him?

Wren’s never going to see him again.

It’s like cold water. It’s barbed. It knocks the wind out of him and he doesn’t scream again, but he makes a helpless, gasping sort of sound, the same sound he makes when he tries to scream in his nightmares.

Wren is never going to see him again. The world is too big and Silas is too unfamiliar with it; Point is never going to let Wren go. He’d kill him before he got far. He’d fuck his corpse once he’s dead.

Wren’s naked and shivering in the boot of a car and nothing is ever going to be the same again. The end of Wren’s life is unfolding formally in the trunk of Point’s car; the only way this ends now is with Wren’s death, or with Point’s. He’s never going to let him go. There’s nobody around anymore to save him. His life, in the district, had been grey and miserable, but he hadn’t been lonely. There had been warmth.

Wren’s never going to be warm again.

He tries to scream — he makes another breathy, choking noise. In the miserable grey of the district, he wouldn’t have been able to imagine being above ground and wanting to go back under it. Now, he can’t take a full breath in and his chest buckles beneath the weight and he starts to hyperventilate in the darkness of the trunk. He wants his books, and his brother. He wants Silas. He wants his looming shadow and his protective hand on Wren’s back. He wants the way he says Wren’s name, with the faintest twang of Wren’s accent because that’s how he had learned to say it. He doesn’t want to be alone.

The world is too big and Wren is completely alone. He takes another hitching breath and his chest hitches along with it. He doesn’t want to be alone. He can’t do this alone. He can’t do this by himself.

The car screams to a stop and Wren hits his shoulder so hard he feels the pain in his wrist. When the trunk flies open above him, Wren doesn’t have time to think or react — the world is so much brighter than he can remember it being. As the trunk opens, the light is let in, and it’s like being blinded, so bright he sees spots. He can’t keep his eyes open against it, and he flinches; as he’s flinching, Point is already reaching into the trunk with him, grabbing him around the throat.

He grabs him so tightly Wren can’t breathe under his hand and he makes an empty, wheezing sort of sound. Point grins widely; he’s here with him and still, Wren’s never been so alone. He grabs at Point’s wrist, tries to pry him off, claw him away, but he presses Wren a little harder into the boot of his car and says, “shucks. You’re awful pretty when you’re scared, cowgirl.” In his other hand, he has a rag he uses to cover Wren’s mouth and his nose. It smells sweet and Wren already knows what’s coming, even before the spots burst in his vision and the light starts to get wavy, blurry. “Unfortunately,” he adds, “you’re being awfully loud back here. I’m gonna need you to be a good girl and keep quiet a little longer, baby. You can scream as loud as you need to when we get where we’re going.”

He doesn’t even have time to scream.

He’s unconscious for a very long time.

Point keeps him sedated, keeps him under, and Wren only knows this because he knows to recognize the heavy, hazy feeling once he’s finally allowed to wake up again. It’s a different sort of headache than being knocked unconscious, a heavy throb of overmedication and dehydration.

He’s still naked, still on his back, but he isn’t still in the boot. He can’t open his eyes yet, his eyelids are too heavy, and his hands are tied, this time, wrists knotted behind his back. His fingers are pushed into what feels a lot like old shag carpet. “What?” Wren says, and he doesn’t mean to. But carpet?

There’s a series of sounds Wren recognizes quickly, a door being closed then locked, then locked again, then bolted. Point says, “well, good morning, cowgirl,” to the sound of him pushing something heavy in front of the door. “You’re right on time.”

Wren still can’t open his eyes. He slurs when he says, “what are you doing?”

“I got us a room,” he answers. “You need a bath.”

“What?” Wren says. He’s having a hard time thinking. Or is Point just not making any sense? They’re in a room? He chokes on a breath in, tripped up by the weight of sedation on his chest.

Conversational, Point says, “you can scream if you want to, baby. I made sure of it. I don’t know how soundproof the walls really are, but this place charges by the hour. Nobody’s gonna come running for a screaming girl.”

Wren still can’t open his eyes and it hurts when he swallows. Slowly, he says, “why are you doing this to me?”

“What?” Point replies. He snorts. “I got you out, cowgirl. You’re gonna have a warm bath.”

“I wanna go back,” Wren slurs.

“What?” He repeats.

“I don’t wanna be here with you,” Wren says. He’s being too honest and he still can’t open his eyes. He isn’t sure where the words are coming from — not his brain, that’s for sure. “I want Silas.”

“The fuckin’ dog?” Point spits, and then he’s quiet for a long time. He’s quiet for so long that Wren finally gains the strength to open his eyes again, blinking up at Point who’s leaned in close, too close, so close it makes Wren jump. He snarls in his face and takes a fistful of his hair. “That’s too fuckin’ bad,” he seethes, “you ungrateful whore.”

The room is exactly what Point said it would be, cheap and dirty, straight out of a 70’s porno or an 80’s slasher. It’s been a long time since Wren’s thought in any sort of movie references, and maybe being above ground again is bringing it out in him, maybe it’s the sedatives, but he thinks now, for some reason, about what happens to the blondes in every cheesy 70’s porno and every gory 80’s slasher, and he thinks, fuck. Panic finally starts to seep through the sedated cracks in his chest as Point hauls him across the filthy shag carpet by his hair.

Point drags him into a bathroom that wouldn’t look out of place behind a gas station and that looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in thirty years. The bathtub is coated with grime and the rusted pipes squeal as Point turns on the water, cranks it as far as he can. Somewhere deep, the heater rumbles, and the water that shoots from the faucet steams with heat. As the tub fills, the bathroom fogs, the water simmering in the filthy tub.

Panic rises up the back of Wren’s throat. He thinks he screams, but it might be the shriek of the pipes. “Darren,” he gasps, because he can’t catch his breath around the knot in his chest, he can’t breathe. Point snarls, and he tries, “don’t — don’t do this to me, don’t — don’t —,” gets stuck in a panicked sort of loop of, “don’t, don’t, don’tdon’tdon’tdon’tdon’t—” as Point pulls him up by his hair.

Wren begs, thrashes, pleads, panics, but Point lifts him with ease and a curled lip. He throws him into the tub, into the boiling water.

Wren’s skin starts to split immediately. Like boils, it starts to burst, opening through his skin and layers of tissue, worse at his palms and the bottoms of his feet, around the sensitive skin where his wrists are bound. Point reaches for the faucet, finally turns on the cold water, but with his other hand he keeps Wren in the tub as it boils, even as the skin of his own wrist peels away in the heat. He holds Wren in the water as he flails, and the nails peel from his fingertips as he claws at Point’s arm. He shrieks when he can, but he can’t very quickly; he can feel the heat in his lungs and he can feel the way the flesh starts to bubble with it, deep in his chest where it should be safe. He can’t scream because he can’t breathe and his upper lip splits open on one side.

When the water starts to cool, Wren’s skin still steams. It doesn’t feel hot, but like razor blades, hundreds of millions of razor blades, restless under his skin. He trembles so uncontrollably water sloshes from the tub at his stillest.

“The dog isn’t around to save you anymore, cowgirl,” Point says, dipping his other hand into the tub, shutting off the water once he’s deemed it’s acceptable. “I don’t want you to think about it again. Y’hear?” He adds, mocking, and pushes Wren’s head beneath the water.

Wren still trembles with heat and he never got to take a full breath in, hitching relentlessly. He doesn’t mean to gasp but he still inhales water. His hands are still tied behind his back.

He sputters, tries to hold his breath, to push himself up, but Point doesn’t let him break the surface. Point holds his head under water until Wren’s scorched lungs start screaming in protest and his vision starts to bloom dark spots. Point holds his head under water until Wren realizes he’s going to die.

It makes him think about Twilight, which is weird, but that’s what he thinks about. It might be the only thing he really knows about drowning. That and Silas, once, saying something passive about being waterboarded. But he doesn’t think about Silas, which is also weird. He thinks about Twilight, and how Bella said that drowning was peaceful.

She fuckin’ lied. It’s chaos, actually, and a screaming ache in his chest that feels like it might split him open down the middle. And he’s in a dirty fuckin’ bathtub, which sucks, and he’s still fuckin’ naked. He’s been naked for days, weeks, and now he’s gonna die naked. How fuckin’ demeaning. How humiliating. How unfair. How many years did he spend suffering underground just to die naked in a bathtub? What the fuck is that? Why is this happening to him?

Is anybody ever gonna know what really happened to him? Legally, he’s been dead for years, he knows this for certain. Point’s always been proud of himself for having made it happen. Nobody’s ever been looking for him. Nobody above ground knows what happened to him in the district and nobody in the district will know what happened to him once he left. Wren’s gonna drown in a bathtub and nobody but Point will ever know.

Closer to the end, things do get a little more peaceful. It doesn’t hurt any less, but everything starts to get sort of fuzzy and less severe. His fingers go numb. He thinks about Silas. It hurts a lot to die, and that makes him think of Silas.

He doesn’t die, not really, but that makes him think of Silas, too. He loses consciousness in the bathtub and comes to on the filthy bathroom tile, vomiting water. Point is pushing his wet hair out of his face and his touch makes Wren vomit again. “You feel better, baby?” He coos. “All clean?”

Wren throws up more water and it’s still hot on the way up. He’s trembling so uncontrollably it makes his muscles ache. It makes him think of Silas again, of the way his hands always shook. It makes him vomit again.

With another coo, Point turns him onto his back. It takes Wren a second to catch up with his body, it takes the panic a second to breach the surface of the water and he tries to gasp, chokes on it, vomits again. “Please,” he breathes, and Point laughs. The sound of his zipper is familiar. Wren chokes again as he tries to cry out, rasps, “please.” He tries to pull himself up, to so much as lean away, but his body is so heavy and shaking so uncontrollably and his trembling hands are trapped beneath his weight.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Point tells him.

“Don’t,” Wren rasps softly. “Please.”

Just as soft, Point says, “it’s just you and me now, cowgirl. You’re all mine. You might as well start getting used to it.”

His smile is unnatural. It isn’t human. Wren vomits again, still warm where it pools in the column of his throat and the dips of his clavicle.

“When I’m done with you,” Point says, curling a hand around the back of Wren’s thigh and he cries out, his skin still feels like razor blades, Point’s touch isn’t just bruising, it’s sharp, “we’ll get back on the road. I got a house waiting for us, baby. Big farmhouse in the countryside, nice and isolated. Nobody around to hear you scream.”

“Please,” Wren rasps, his breath hitching desperately.

“Nothing you can say or do will change the fact that this is gonna happen to you,” he tells him, soft and mock soothing. “You’re going to be kept chained up like an animal. You’re going to be used thoroughly and repeatedly. You’ll know your fuckin’ place, and you’ll show me the proper respect. You may not like it, cowgirl, but you’re fuckin’ sure gonna do it. You won’t like what happens to you if you don’t. It’ll be a lot worse than a warm bath.”

Wren’s heart beats in his throat and he wishes he had died in the bathtub.

Point’s kneeling between Wren’s thighs, starts rocking against him, coos softly when the warmth of his skin makes Wren vomit again. Why was he so desperate not to die? It has to be better than this. It has to be less miserable than this.

“Please,” he whispers, rough. “No more.”

“Oh, cowgirl,” Point says, and he smiles, wide and grotesque. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

[am-i-obsessed---maybe]

Mother Of Shadows (Shadow Of A Bluejay Ch. 7)

A lot of backstory in this one and you know what that means... It's oc time! I like to think of Lady Lilith having just a nice evil british accent, real classic villain vibes. Anyway we're getting closer to the end. We've passed the halfway mark at least so don't forget to tell me what you think of this series so far in my ask box👍

I really wanna get some feedback on how it's going so far, especially if you read the original SHadow Of A Bluebird

Series Masterlist

Wordcount: 2.1k

Star City September 21, 14:30 PST

The final bell couldn't have rang soon enough. Today had been miserable. A physics pop quiz, english presentation day and you'd been up late the night before on patrol and to make it all worse it was hot. So very hot.

You were sweating as you walked out of school only to hear a loud honk when you tried to cross the street.

You turned around, trying to find the moron who honked only to see Roy waiting in one of Ollie's less flashy cars.

You ignored him and tried once again to cross only for him to honk again. This time people were looking.

You weren't typically the self conscious type but it was getting really uncomfortable so you gave in, walking over to Roy if only to tell him to shut it with the horn.

As you approached he lowered his window.

"Hey—" He tried.

"What are you doing here?" You questioned.

"I'm picking you up" He said.

"The first day of school was almost a month ago so I'll repeat. What are you doing here?" You asked again and he groaned.

"Just get in the car will you?" He asked but you stood your ground.

"No. Why are you here? You refuse to answer my texts, you don't pick up my calls, you walk off when we try to invite you onto the team and then when you need help you call Kaldur. You didn't even ask me, you went straight to him so why all of a sudden do you wanna see me?" You questioned and you heard another car behind him honk. He was holding up the parent pick up line.

"Will you just get in the car?!" He exclaimed and when you heard the start of another honk you gave in yet again, slamming the car door behind you as you buckled in. Roy drove off and yet no answer.

"Are you seriously gonna make me ask you again?" You asked, you'd taken a seat in the middle of the bench in the back.

"I wanted to say..." His volume fell off as he spoke.

"What?" You asked.

"I wanted to say I was sorry. I shouldn't have ignored you" He said. You weren't expecting that, though your heart hoped for a long time to hear those words. Three months to be exact.

"And the mission with Kaldur?" You asked.

"I called the cave, he was just the one there" Roy said.

"Yeah, so you went and unified the Rhelaias with him." You grumbled

"will you get out of your own ass for a second, this is important" Roy said and you rolled your eyes one last time.

"yeah, you're apologizing, not a common occurrence" You said.

"And I wanted to show you something." He said and turned into an empty parking lot and pulled out a file, handing it to you.

"what's this?" You asked.

"Open it" He said and carefully you did.

It read:

Mother Of Shadows

Project Iteration A-15

"Where did you get this?" You asked. You hadn't heard that name since Dinah took you in.

"I've been investigating the Shadow's dealing since I went solo, found that in an old lab." Roy said, "Now do you wanna get in the front so we can figure out what to do about this together?" He asked.

"You mean like, a mission? Just the two of us?" You asked and he nodded, smiling.

"Just like old times" He said.

Himalayan Mountains

September 22, 04:53 PKT

You looked out over the snowy mountain peak, snatching the binoculars from Roy.

"Are you sure the rest of the file is here?" You asked him.

"Yes. According to my info this is the base they moved their medical facilities to. Since I found the first file in the remains of their previous base the rest has to be here." Roy explained. He covered his usual suit with a white parka to protect from the cold and try to blend in while you simply used your polar stealth suit.

You nodded, giving him back the binoculars.

"Race you to the bottom of the base" You said and jumped down the mountain side.

"Hey, no fair, you got a head start" He complained, shooting a grappling arrow down to the base of the base and grappling down after you.

When Roy first gave you the file you were skeptical, you didn't want anything to do with the League Of Shadows especially Project MOS, the project that created you.

20 years ago Ra's Al Ghul went looking for a way for his shadows to be able to go toe to toe with the super powered heroes that appeared. The original heroes, the Justice Society didn't bother Ra's. But the Justice League, that was an issue. They thwarted him and his plans and he couldn't have that so he tried to create his own super powered shadows. He recruited a team of scientists who slowly found and isolated a group of genes. They had dozens of test subjects. None of them were successful. Not until you.

To no one's surprise you won the race.

"Beat ya" You said cheekily and Roy rolled his eyes.

"You cheated and we both know it" He said but the smirk on his lips told you it was all jest.

The two of you snuck your way in, working together like a well oiled machine. Three months had passed since you'd so much as had a full conversation with him but the two of you worked as if it'd only been a few minutes.

You made it into the records room without raising alarm and began to look through the filing cabinets.

You groaned, having gone through another row of files, "I can't tell what kind of organizational system this is, we can't just spend hours sifting through this" you said.

"Stop complaining and just look" Roy said and you huffed. The next few minutes were quiet and then the sounds of a body hitting the floor.

"Red Arrow—" You said and gasped as you saw what was in front of you.

Shadows filled the halls, all standing behind a woman, Roy's body unconscious on the floor below her.

You took a step back and collided with the filling cabinets.

When Ra's Al Ghul found his team of scientists he put one of his own in charge, after all he had to make sure that this crew stayed loyal to him with their findings. The woman he placed in charge of Project A- Mother Of Shadows was a woman by the name of Lady Lilith. A Geneticist who claimed she could find the purpose of any gene.

"It has been a long time, my child, have you finally come home?" The woman asked.

"What have you done to him?" You asked, fear flowing into your posture and voice.

"He is only knocked out. He will be fine. You on the other hand... I thought I taught you better than to get caught" She said.

After 14 failed attempts to create her own superhumans Lady Lilith decided that the only way to succeed was to use new donors. Until that point they had only used eggs and sperm from specimens that held the group of genes they discovered were responsible for the development of superhuman abilities. None of the tests born of those specimens survived long enough. Instead they used Lady Lilith as a donor. She did not possess the superhuman genes. Instead She spliced together multiple of the previous donors to create a viable embryo.

The woman motioned for the shadows to enter and two took hold of your arms.

"Come now child, we have tests to run" The woman said. "And bring the other one, we would not want any harm to come to him"

Infinity Island 5 years ago

You stood panting and sweaty in your black stealth suit, the rest of the combatants lying dead on the ground of the training room floor.

Lady Lilith stood on the balcony above, watching happily.

"As promised Great One, a superpowered shadow at your disposal" She said, pointing at you.

You fell to your knees in exhaustion. Still panting heavily. You were only 10 years old. Your body wasn't designed for such extreme exertion though perhaps it was made for it.

"And is flight the only ability they have developed?" Ra's asked.

"Do not misunderstand Lady Lilith, this quite satisfactory but I only think, what use is flight alone against super strength or speed?" He continued.

"Give it time oh, Great One. It is still early and the genetic potential for more remains" She said.

League Of Shadows Base, Himalayan Mountains September 22, 07:07

You'd been poked, prodded and examined since the shadows brought you into what appeared the be the base's lab, strapped down to the table. Beside you Roy was laid out, the same tests were being done to him, or maybe they were different, you weren't sure but he too was poked and prodded.

"Alright child, up you go" The voice of Lady Lilith said over a speaker as the restraints around your wrists and ankles opened. You sat up slowly and looked beside you to Roy.

"What do you want mother?" You asked wearily.

"Oh stop asking these silly questions and get up" She said.

She led you out to a training ground where she pushed you down the stairs. As your body fell you jumped into the air, landing niceley at the bottom.

"Let's see just what Canary has taught you darling" She said and clapped her hands, a dozen shadows running out onto the training grounds around you.

The first one tried to tackle you. He failed miserably.

The next attacked with his sword, it soon became your sword and on and on it went, all the while Lady Lilith stood above and watched.

When the final shadows laid unconscious on the ground you looked up, panting.

"What are you doing to Red Arrow?" You asked and Lady Lilith smiled.

"It's so sweet how much you care for that boy, he came all the way here with you so I assume he knows your history, what a surprise how fine he is with it" She commented.

"What do you want mother?" You asked, disheartened.

"Oh it's not what I want dear. It's what you will give" She said.

"I won't come back!" You told her, surprisingly boldly.

"Oh darling we discontinued project MOS ages ago. We work with mercenaries now. Of course someone with your abilities can always come in handy" She said and you understood.

"And what would you do if I said no?" You asked but Lady Lilith laughed.

"well will you?" She asked.

"I'm not the person you trained me to be" You told her and her smile was eery.

"Darling child, if you want to believe a few years with some heroes can undo years of training as well as genetics be my guest but I'm sorry to tell you that unlike the surprisingly accepting Red Arrow the rest of your team may not understand as much" She said, slowly coming down the stairs.

"How do you?" You asked but she tutted and shook her head.

"You didn't think we'd just let Canary take you off without keeping a watchful eye? Before you decide think about what Aqualad would say about your past. What about Kid Flash? Or Robin?" She asked. Once she was close enough she took your face in her palm.

"Do you think the Justice League would trust you if they knew just how many people you've killed?" She asked and you tried to look away. The only ones who knew everything about you were Dinah and Ollie and this was exactly why it was important that it stay like that.

"What about Red Arrow? Does he know? Does he accept you anyway?" She asked and tears began to flow down your cheeks under your mask.

"Please just, don't tell them" You whispered.

"Of course not my child. I would never" She said and placed a small device into a pouch on your utility belt.

"Now, I think it's time you took your sidekick friend home, don't you?" She asked.

Half an hour later you were helping a barely conscious Roy back up a Himalayan mountain.

"We can't just leave" He tried to say but you shook your head.

"I don't care about the file. We were lucky the shadow that got you didn't have time to alert anyone else" You lied.

"Now come on, we're going home" You told him.

[goldfishontheceiling]

TEAM E-SCOPE (+ Owen) BEACH HEADCANONS!!

Pronouns for these HCs:

Izzy: She/They/Xe (Izzy uses neoprounouns it's canon I'm Fresh TV /j)

Eva: She/He

Owen: He/Him

Noah: He/They

Izzy:

- insists on driving (do NOT let her drive!!)

- loves sitting in the front

- stares out the window or sings along to the radio most of the car ride

- begs Eva to stop at the gas station

- xe always gets sour gummy worms

- no sour gummy worms? sour patch kids

- no sour patch kids? sweedish fish

- no sweedish fish? RIOT

- absolutely LOVES the water

- they go out super deep and scare the shit out of everyone

- chases the icecream truck until xe gets the whole group icecream

- *borrows bridgette's surboard* *tries to surf* *fails miserably*

- 100% brings googles

- likes catching fish with their bare hands (or teeth)

-she splashed Eva once (and got thrown headfirst into Owen's sandcastle as a result)

- collects seashells

- tries to take home crabs as pets

- a little more chill on the ride home but this is Izzy we're talking about xe's never chill

Eva:

- designated driver (has road rage)

- *aggressively honks horn* "DRIVE FASTER BITCH"

- always gets some chocolate and a coffee at the gas station

- hates the radio but plays it for Izzy (she keeps the mp3 player on standby incase it gets too bad)

- mostly swims with Izzy or plays volleyball

- *plays volleyball with some strangers* *gets mad and chucks the ball at one of their faces*

- tries to relax (emphasis on the tries)

- she knows cpr!!

- he gets salt water and/or sand in her eyes everytime

- will yell at you (lovingly) if you forget to put on sunscreen

- he makes sure everyone drinks water (no Izzy ocean water doesn't count) and stays hydrated!!

- wears sunglasses pretty much the entire time

- will make sure nobody tracks sand into the car

Owen:

- sits in the back with Noah

- he gets everyone to play "I spy" with him (Izzy can't focus, Noah's half asleep, and Eva's more focused on trying not to scream then things that are the color yellow)

- if the others are busy/don't want to play he usually whips out the DVD player

- did I mention that he collects DVDs? his favorite movies are cloudy with a chance of meatballs, toy story, and ratatouille

- always gets gummy sharks or jolly ranchers

- Owen packs the best snacks and brings things they all like (strawberries, veggie straws, goldfish, cheez its, etc)

- he even made sandwiches and fruit salads!!

- the water's nice and all, but the SAND!!

- he makes the best sand castles

- since Owen canonically has 3 brothers, he knows a lot of games (sand castle building contest, marco polo, "who can dig the deepest hole in 5 minutes," etc)

- gives the seashells he finds to Izzy

- speaking of Izzy, xe burries Owen in the sand atleast once everytine they go

Noah:

- he ususally drives for shorter trips, but long car rides make him tired

- you can not convince me that this man doesn't latch on to Owen like a koala when he naps

- Owen angles the DVD player somewhere they could both see incase Noah wakes up

- at first, Noah just reads a book (or stares out the window when he gets carsick) but he always ends up falling asleep at some point

- whenever they stop at the gas station, Owen always makes sure to get something for Noah

- they always bring their book with them to the beach

- he protects that book like a lifeline

- once he either finishes the book or the others bug him enough, THEN he does stuff

- Izzy always tries to convince them to get in the water

- 9 times out of 10 he says no

- but on the occasional times they say yes, they almost drown

- Owen carries Noah pretty much everywhere lmao

- he doesn't really like water (and no I won't be making an IOTS refrence no matter how tempting it is)

- they help Owen with his sand castle!!

- Noah isn't much of a beach person but that doesn't mean he can't have fun

- and ofc he falls back asleep on the ride back

[masterj]

So, @lomotunes2008 , I haven't got around to designing Margot yet, but dammit, I couldn't wait any longer to post these facts about her story I came up with:

On the other end of Chug Town Trackside Towers is Chuggington Airport, a new location I will introduce in my headcanon (loosely based on what I saw in my dreams once or twice lol.)

Speed Fleet are the most common chugger here. It has a big station where passengers and parcels are transfered, and is the terminus of a newly built monorail line that goes all the way to Buffertonia.

Margot is one of the monorails on trial. Only up to four would be chosen to by Vee to stay.

Poor Emery was very hurt by Margot's mean words - but it wasn't Margot saying he was bad at his job that broke him - she also said his face looked like a pig, his swaying horns and buffers make him look like a ugly caterpillar, (Ooh, deja vu...) and that his eyes make him look like an ugly alien, because he has heterochromia. (Emery's left eye is green, and his right eye is blue)

And of course, he wasn't the only chugger she tormented; she called Chatsworth a wimp when she honked as loudly as she could at him, causing him to jump and overturn his hopper car.

She called Olwin a fat old fusspot because of her large streamlined body, and how upset she was when she got covered in sand from Chatsworth's car tipping over.

She called Old Puffer Pete a rusty, weak piece of junk and that he was the most useless, pathetic, and ditzy chugger she had ever seen, because he is the oldest in Chuggington and always gets the youngster's names wrong.

She finished off with I quote: "What's a smelly steamer like you still doing around?😒 Go find a scrapyard!😈"

Pete: 😨

What a bi🤬🤬🤬.

She then passes Hodge and Eddie and calls Hodge similar insults, due to the fact he is a 'hodge-podge' of scrap metal. Eddie, with his wrench clutched in his fist, shouted just what he thought of Margot insulting his faithful work companion, but alas, she was already leaving them far behind.

Margot is also very impatient and honked at everyone yelling at them to work faster, whether they were in her way or slowing her down in any way, shape, or form or not, kinda like Emily when she was bossy little b🤬tch in the S8 episode "Emily's Adventure."

Margot literally yelled exactly this at the start of her journey at The Airport, when the station porters were loading up her passenger's luggage, and honks at them, which only caused them to bump the trolley and drop everything, and the passengers, disturbed by her horn, were very angry; monorails are supposed to be quiet!

She then honked rudely at Wilson and Brewster hauling a heavy stone train from the quarry, telling at them to hurry up, even though they were not in her way or anything whatsoever because she is a monorail so they don't run on each other's tracks at all. Brewster thought Margot was the rudest monorail he'd ever met and Wilson was very cross.

But Margot thought 'it made them work harder'.

What a f🤬🤬🤬ing stupid 🤬🤬🤬🤬.

She even insulted Koko's speed claiming she could go three times faster than Hanzo, let alone her. Koko was fuming.

So yeah, she was indeed just being an absolute menace to society and causing confusion and delay overall lol, and Emery was especially miserable. He meets up with the main trio (and my yet-to-be-revealed main oc) in The Depot later and told them what she said to him. Already angry with Margot, they convinced Emery they need to tell Vee about her appalling behavior and overcoming the pain, he agrees.

But of course, they weren't the only ones to complain to Vee about Margot, and long story short, Vee was not happy, and indeed, there was nothing for it but for Margot to be sent away in disgrace. All the other chuggers and monorails went off back to work as normal, and Margot was put back on the wagon, and taken straight back to the Buffertonian production plant she came from by Dunbar. Did she ever change her ways? We may never know...

[neshabeingchildish]

We'll Raise Him Right

Tagged: Charlotte Page, Max Thunderman, Mika Macklin

Notes: Don't mind me. Just clearing my mind of a little bit of Charlotte x Max lore from my notes.

Plot: Charlotte Page and Max Thunderman's firstborn child gets his superpowers and Charlotte is not sure what she thinks of it all. Potentially Zenryverse, but no mention of Zenryverse characters.

Most superpowers come haphazardly. Charlotte could remember Max claiming that the Incredibles had it easy when Jack Jack was cycling through his in that movie. She had heard all about the fiasco of Chloe going through hers. She even watched footage and read every available article from the Metroburg Library on the subject. Alas, nothing can really fully prepare a typical human woman for the power manifestation of a supe infant.

Max wanted her to stay elsewhere until Baby Maximillian settled on a superpower, but there was no way that she was leaving her baby for some undetermined amount of time. So, when he cycled through storm powers, superstrength, shapeshifting and telepathy; Charlotte was present, nearby, trying to avoid demise as Max caught and comforted Mini Max. He would often do so by singing him lullabies and rocking him gently. That always seemed to be soothing for the baby in those trying times.

Eventually, Baby Maximillian began singing. He was 2 years old with the most beautiful singing voice Charlotte had ever heard. It was haunting, even. She was about to make note of that fact when suddenly, a violent scream tore through the sky and through her thoughts. An oncoming car swerved and missed hitting her by mere inches and she panicked as she realized that she was in the middle of the street. Horns honked at her, but she was more concerned about where her child was. She had been with him, and next thing she knew, she was in the street! What if someone had hit him? Tears welled in her eyes, but she heard crying and turned to see him, standing on the sidewalk, crying miserably.

The crying sounded excruciating. It was tearing her heart as she rushed to him. All she wanted was for it to stop. She pushed through the dread and gathered him to her heart. “Oh, Baby! Mommy’s so sorry! I don’t know what happened.” She was crying now, too. She felt filled with fear and guilt, but having him alive in her arms and knowing he was safe ended that and she rushed home to get him to Max. Max would be able to console him. “What the butt happened?” She asked herself.

Max answered, after she gave him the rundown, “I would say the siren’s song, from the first part, but then the sonic scream would be what broke the trance and probably knocked the car out of the way, but then again… his crying repelled you. That’s at least 3 different things that usually don’t happen from the same supe.” Baby Maximillian was asleep in his father’s arms and had been from the moment Max chilled him out with lullabies. Charlotte reached over to stroke his little head.

“Is there something that can do all of that? Like maybe a general vocal superpower?”

Max thought for a moment then cheered, “That’s it! Voice Manipulation! Usually, there’s only one or two applications per supe, hence why I said that those other things were what I said they were. Typically, supes don’t have those combined. For instance, some have the ability to mimic any sound, and some can mimic any voice, those two might be powers that one has, or they could only be ble to do one of those. Typically, voice manipulation, even though there are many types, the supe only has a slice or two. But if one has voice manipulation and is still cycling through potential powers, it's possible that he was maybe cycling through various voice manipulations and that’s why such differing applications all came out of him while he was panicked.”

Charlotte frowned, eyeing her computer, “Well, according to the database, a voice manipulator has the potential to hone several abilities if they began manifesting them before their age of acquisition. So.. because he cycled through those, he could very possibly wind up with all of that. In other words, those with only one voice manipulation power prior to settling on a voice manipulation power will only have that one, but somebody who cycles through multiple ones and wind up with that power might have others, if they wind up with voice manipulation.”

Max finally put their son into his crib and took a breath, “Well then, I guess our current mystery is whether he has landed on that superpower and if so, what applications has he already cycled through.”

.

Mika was smiling brightly, and full of all of the fervor and excitement that she always had for things. “ I am SO GLAD that you called me about this! Of course, as someone with a voice manipulation superpower, I have life experience with the subject. I have read and studied every superpower in the database, but voice manipulation is my area of expertise! I wrote the, now, most studied article in the world on the subject of the Song Manipulation Curse of Swellview from when we were kids to get into the Secret Academy of Superpower Studies, and my sonic scream journals that I kept for my own powers have been introduced into curriculum in Hero University, for training. I created a signature special pitch that can be used by manipulators of both sonic scream and siren song, so I even have expertise in that!” She clapped her hands once and rubbed them together, “I can hardly wait to get a look at Maximillian’s vocal system!” She squealed happily and reached for the toddler. 

He looked at her, looked at his mother, then back to Mika, then to Charlotte again. “It’s okay, Maxi. She’s Mommy and Daddy’s friend,” Charlotte told him. He looked back and forth once more then went to Mika’s outstretched arms. Charlotte kissed him on the forehead and strummed his cheek, then looked at Mika with a warning glance.

“Charlotte, I will take care of him like he is my most important project.”

“He isn’t a project. He’s my only child.” Charlotte said. “And if something happened to him, I will take care of you.”

“Unnecessary, but noted.”

Charlotte had always been good at school, but she didn’t necessarily love doing school work. Mika, on the other hand lived for it. One thing that they definitely both had in common was loving science experiments and studies. Charlotte was just as excited about the tests that Mika would be performing as Mika was, if not a bit more apprehensive because the tests were on her son. 

“According to the information that you gave in your statements, the scans, and tests, these are the observations that I’ve made so far. Firstly, there is an emotional component to the sounds that he makes. There appears to be some type of impassioned voice activated hypnosis. You were both privy to this and unfortunately almost fell prey to it. We know that it wasn’t his intention to harm you or scare you. You were likely in a state of bliss and absentmindedness. Some use this to begin a series of behaviors for the intended. Some call it siren song, as Max did, because it tends to be presented in song form in most lore. Fun fact - hypnotic voice, as I like to refer to it, doesn’t have to sung to affect. It can be operated in words, usually with a certain prompt, for example “I heard a rumor.” Hypnotic voice can also be operated in other vocal functions, such as laughter and..”

“Crying.”

“He’s not old enough or trained enough to control it, so whenever he sang earlier, being happy, you must have been in the hypnotic state that led you into the middle of the street. Do you remember what you felt? Was it mindless, carefree, or something else? Was he determined to get somewhere? Like, a cookie shop across the street or something?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember him seeming to want something… I don’t really remember anything from the singing until the screaming.”

Mika nodded, empathetically. Then, she immediately cheered back up, “Look.” She showed Charlotte the brain scans. “It makes sense that you can’t remember what was happening during this, because his memory hasn’t fully formed. If Maximillian had a more developed hippocampus, I think that you would have most likely have felt either whatever he was feeling in the moments of the hypnosis, or, if he truly gets to hone this ability; you would feel whatever he would want you to feel.”

Charlotte looked horrified.

Max smiled, “Villain era me would’ve LOVED to help hone a power like that!”

“It can be used for good!” Mika insisted, “It isn’t mind control. He wouldn’t be able to force someone to follow specific orders, but he very well could possibly get others to feel like they want to do something.”

“That worries me,” Charlotte admitted.

“Nonsupes HONESTLY have got to stop demonizing powers, and supes are no better when it comes to siren song. Just because someone has a hypnotic nature doesn’t mean that they will try to use it against others,” Mika complained. “Note to self, commission a directive to work against hypnotic voice prejudice.”

Max rolled his eyes and sorted through Mika’s findings himself. “Good news!” Mika changed the subject, slightly. “Hypnotic voice doesn’t seem to be the supreme voice manipulation power that he holds. It belongs under the umbrella of the most potently used one that he has. Sonic Scream!” She didn’t hide her excitement at all. “He must’ve realized that you were in danger and his fear made him activate the power that he needed in order to help you.”

“So… he’s a noise maker,” Max said matter of factly.

“He is a soundwaves specialist!” Mika defended. “Or, he will be, if we raise him right.” She giggled gleefully.

Charlotte and Max exchanged looks. His was hopeful. Hers was worried. Her child was already half nonsupe, and now he had this demonized superpower in the supes community… Max gave her a nudge with his forehead, “We’ll raise him right, Charlight.” She nodded and relaxed a little.

[its-my-whump]

28. “I never should have let it come this far”

Failed hero | Hospital stay | Begging for help

TW: unconsciousness, gore, blunt trauma

"I'm not coming with you."

"But you may die here."

"Probably!... BUT...It.. it's my fault. So I have to pay for that now. I never should have let it come this far." Whumpee shook his head in despair and turned away ashamed.

"Neither should have I!" Caretaker's voice was strong. A whole lot of determination in it made whumpee turn around again.

"I'm not gonna let you sacrifice yourself for these miserable, ungrateful basta..."

The intended hit not only took whumpee by surprise, it missed its target on the back of his head.

Instead caretaker struck him down by hitting whumpee's temple. He went down like a log and Caretaker's heart literally stopped.

Whumpee's limp extremities sprawled out like someone had thrown an unused puppet into the corner. His head met the ground with a sickening wet thud.

Every drop of color left whumpee's face immedately. It looked like it was drained in the same motion the red pool around his head was forming.

"Shit!" Caretaker could only hiss, while he went down to his knees and turned whumpee on his back. The pulse was steady and strong, but not a muscle moved. Even when caretaker forcefully rubbed his sternum, there was no reaction.

Panic was about to overpower everything else. Caretaker needed to fight against his breath hitching and his heart hammering away like an industrial press.

He wrapped his shirt around whumpee's head and got to his feet again, his friend in a bridal carry. The blue cotton had already turned red and made a fearful contrast to the white face.

. . .

On the way to the hospital caretaker was sure he was having a heart attack any second. Constantly one hand was feeling for whumpee's heartbeat or was held under his nose for the certainty of his friend still breathing. The friend he actually wanted to save himself from doing something so utterly stupid, that he in fact was so desperate to knock him out to stop him. 'Nicely done,...not.' He debated with himself.

The amound of blood still freely seeping through the fabric around whumpee's head was concerning, as was his lifeless form.

Finally, with squeaking wheels he annouced their arrival at the E.R. Caretaker frantically honked the horn a few times, before he jumped out of the driverseat and screamed as loud as his panicked body would let him.

"HELP! PLEASE SOMEONE HELP!"

My whumptember2023 masterlist

[unhlnged]

closed for @favcritecriime (JJ)

“Hey! Anyone working at this shithole?!”

Rafe honked his car horn, sticking his head out of the rolled-down window and yelled again.

Since no one reacted and came out to assist him, he got out of the jeep, slamming the door shut, and stormed into the garage. He didn’t have all day. What did those lazy people think?

“Hey!” Rafe barked when he saw the back of someone in dirty overalls looking under a car hood.

He was about to grab that guy by his arm and yank him around to complain about the miserable service at this place, when he stopped as he recognized that face. He hadn’t seen him in a while – a fact that he surely didn’t regret – JJ Maybank.

Rafe gazed at the blond, open mouthed. “You work here?” He said as if it was the most peculiar thing ever, because it was. To Rafe it seemed more likely that JJ was here to steal some car parts than actually do some honest work.

[rygoespop]

Thomas and Friends: Railway Stories Untold (Story 2): Ten Misdeeds, One Diesel

Date: December 27th, 1999 (4 Days before New Years)

(On The Mainland, Sir Topham Hatt came to the same engine shed where he first met Percy and chose him)

STH: Oh bother, the new millennium is coming shortly, and I needed one more engine for my railway

(Unknown to Sir Topham Hatt, a diesel observes him, but the diesel has a claw on him, the diesel smirked)

The Diesel: One more engine huh? Hmmmmmm

STH: Oh dear oh dear! Which engine do I want?

The Diesel: How about a diesel?

STH: A diesel? Who said that-

(Diesel 10 honked his horn as he came up to Sir Topham Hatt)

STH: Who, who are you?!

Diesel 10: Who am I? Well, you can call me Diesel 10, ten out of ten of good deeds

STH: Hmmmmm, well you did say good deeds

Diesel 10: Indeed sir, with my claw, I can lift broken branches, scrap metal, and debris in no time!

STH: Well, why didn’t you say so!

(The Manager came up to Sir Topham Hatt)

The Manager: Have you decided who you wanna get?

STH: Yes, that one (points to Diesel 10)

The Manager: Wise choice sir, and this one is on the house! (He left)

STH: Right, come along Diesel 10, when we get to Sodor, you’ll be given a welcome from my engines!

Diesel 10: Right away sir!

(As Sir Topham Hatt headed back to Sodor, Diesel 10 followed as his good sided persona slowly faded)

Diesel 10: Heh heh heh!

(Back on Sodor, at The Sheds)

Thomas: I heard Sir Topham Hatt is getting a new engine to help us out!

Gordon: Indeed, I wonder if it will be a big strong engine!

Edward: Or maybe someone who is friendly

(Sir Topham Hatt’s car came into the yard)

James: There he is!

STH: Well everyone, I got you a new engine, now he has a claw and he can help you with the debris or scrap metal!

Thomas: A claw?

Henry: That sounds, unusual for an engine

Percy: How can an engine have a claw?

(Soon, Diesel 10’s horn was heard in the distance)

STH: There he is!

Diesel 10: Greetings everyone

Thomas: Oh! Hello there, your the new engine?

Diesel 10: Indeed I am, my name is Diesel 10! 10 out of 10 Good Deeds!

Thomas: Ooooh, we definitely need an engine that is very useful

Diesel 10: Indeed, hence why my claw is useful to grab broken tree branches, scrap metal, or debris

Gordon: A claw? That sounds absurd, not common on railway practices!

Diesel 10: Oh don’t be silly Gordon, I’m very useful

STH: Now that you got to know everyone Diesel 10, now do you have any other questions?

Diesel 10: Oh yes sir! Are there more engines on the island?

STH: Of course, there’s also Duck, Donald, Douglas, Oliver, Bill, Ben, Mavis, BoCo, and Daisy!

Diesel 10: Good to know sir!

STH: Good, if you have any more questions, come talk to me at the station (Walks away)

(Sir Topham Hatt drives away back to Knapford)

Edward: Now that we got to meet you Diesel 10, now what do you plan on doing for your first day?

Diesel 10: Oh, you’ll find out soon enough, old steaming scrap

(Diesel 10 slowly smirked, as his Friendly Persona Charade is over)

Thomas: What do you mean-

Diesel 10: I’m gonna enjoy making you all miserable

Edward: Wait what?!

Diesel 10: HA! HA ha ha ha ha! (He clamps his claw)

End of Story

[seitmai]

Very important chapter, so obviously very many thoughts under the cut

You could feel and hear his laughter as one big hand came up to squeeze your shoulder before gliding down your side to your waist. "Make you move? I want to keep you with me forever, Gorgeous." Did he know the extent to which his words excited you every time he said forever? You tried to play it cool, wrapping your arm around his waist, but as soon as his lips met your forehead in a gentle kiss, you whispered, "Forever sounds really good."

I have a feeling that forever is gonna be happening sooner than later 🤭

"Of course you are," you murmured, letting your hand rest on his flat belly. He only took a quick lunch break earlier during Career Day before pulling off the flyover surprise that had your whole school buzzing with excitement. "I don't think you ate enough today. Let's remedy that."

I love so much that she feeds Bradley 🥰

"I did notice," he whispered. "There has to be something there. He was looking at her the way I look at you."

Yes!!🥳

You must have been watching the sexy way he walked for a little too long, because Natasha honked her horn and yelled out the window, "I want some wine!"

Ahahaha I love Nat and honestly would have done the same 😅

"You're going to freak out later," she mumbled, making a left turn. "What?" You weren't sure you'd heard her correctly.

Good god, Nat is playing with fire

"I might have to start bringing headphones again though, because the man will not shut up about you the whole time." You covered your face with your hands while she laughed. "Sorry." "Don't be sorry. It was so bad at times before he met you, I used to have to put my earbuds in and pretend I was listening to him complain about his exes. It was always the same thing. Nat, I don't know how to break up with her, but she's kind of mean to me. Nat, I can't keep taking her to the bar, because she flirts with everyone else. Nat, why is she being so selfish? Nat, I feel like she's just using me. Nat. Nat. Nat. Nat. Nat." Her voice softened as she said, "It's not like that with you at all. Now he just wants to know if I think his date ideas sound stupid or romantic. And if I think he's crazy for already having you move in."

Geez all of Bradley’s exes sound horrible lol

She grinned as she switched lanes. "Trust me when I say I've given him some solid date ideas. And I told him he would have been miserable if he waited any longer to ask you to live with him. That man is so solidly in love with you, it is disgusting." "The feeling is mutual," you whispered as your cheeks burned.

I wanna know all about Nat's date ideas!!!

"I know. Now let's enjoy some wine while we talk shit about him. I've been way too nice today up to this point."

This is peak Nat and I love it 😅

When Natasha dropped you off after four hours of wine and conversation, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. You were already looking forward to hanging out with her again soon.

Those are the best times 🥰

"Bradley?" You glanced at the wall and then back at his face. You weren't even sure if your words were intelligible as you muttered, "Paper planes?" His smile widened. "It's all the letters you and your class sent to me. You know... when you were looking for a Naval aviator to write back and answer a few questions? I guess a few questions turned into a lot more than that. And a simple correspondence with a gorgeous fourth grade teacher soon made me realize that you're the woman of my dreams. My pen pals changed my whole life." He nodded toward the wall. "Your students helped me fold them up yesterday."

Ahhhh what a cute way to pop the question🥰🥹

"It was my mom's." He held up his right hand, fingers curled in a loose fist. You watched as he carefully unfurled them, revealing a ring resting on his palm. "I want you to have it. Unless you don't like it. It's from 1984, and it's definitely vintage, so I won't be upset if you tell me you'd rather have something more modern." He was rambling, but you could barely breathe from the butterflies which were fluttering hard against your ribcage. "Maverick was holding onto her engagement ring for safekeeping. I had no idea until he heard me talking about how desperately I want to marry you."

She is gonna marry him with whatever ring but it's so cute that he shared the backstory of the ring with her 🥰

I'm SO happy that Bradley FINALLY popped the question and has gotten the desired answer 🥰🥹

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 26 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley has a plan of action, but he needs to make sure you're a little distracted before he can proceed.

Warnings: fluff, adult language, smut, 18+

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

"Today was exhausting," you whispered, pulling your legs up so you were sitting on Bradley's lap on the couch. His flight suit was a little scratchy, and you were still wearing your dress, but you yawned and nuzzled against his chest in surrender. "Please don't make me move yet."

You could feel and hear his laughter as one big hand came up to squeeze your shoulder before gliding down your side to your waist. "Make you move? I want to keep you with me forever, Gorgeous."

Did he know the extent to which his words excited you every time he said forever? You tried to play it cool, wrapping your arm around his waist, but as soon as his lips met your forehead in a gentle kiss, you whispered, "Forever sounds really good."

His posture stiffened a little bit as his fingers flexed on your waist. You could feel him fighting the urge to jump to his feet with you in his lap.

"What's wrong?" you asked, stifling another yawn.

"Nothing," he replied quickly, but you could tell he was antsy. "Just getting hungry."

"Of course you are," you murmured, letting your hand rest on his flat belly. He only took a quick lunch break earlier during Career Day before pulling off the flyover surprise that had your whole school buzzing with excitement. "I don't think you ate enough today. Let's remedy that."

"No," he insisted, pulling you back down when you tried to stand. "I can wait a bit longer. We were just getting comfortable."

"Mmm," you hummed. "Did you notice Marty and Ms. Masters earlier? I think there might be something there."

"I did notice," he whispered. "There has to be something there. He was looking at her the way I look at you."

With a smile on your lips, you felt yourself succumbing to the warmth of his body and his deep voice and his big hands.

Soon your eyes were closed, and you were drifting to sleep.

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

Bradley's growling stomach was the least of his concerns as you dozed in his arms and drooled on his Golden Warriors patch. You were clearly exhausted from how busy and emotional this week was. He'd only just returned from a mission where you and he hadn't spoken for weeks, and then you hosted Career Day at work. Hell, he was still tired, and he'd taken the week off from work.

He thought he had himself under control. He thought he would be able to bring you home and let you have a relaxing Friday night. After all, he was in no hurry. But as soon as you told him forever sounded really good, he felt his muscles coil with anticipation. His body told him to get up and prove to you that forever was what he needed. All he had to do was walk into the bathroom and get the engagement ring.

You seemed to be able to feel the energy he was trying to reel in even as you started to fall asleep. Tonight was not the night. Truly all he wanted to do was hold you until tomorrow morning and let you rest, but his foot was bouncing gently. There was always the chance you'd say no or that you weren't ready to be engaged yet, and he couldn't stop thinking about it. But previous conversations indicated otherwise, and he knew he was ready for everything.

His head tipped back against the couch in frustration. He should have told Nat that he wanted to propose sooner rather than later, but she didn't even know he actually had his mother's ring. His best friend would have riled him up more before helping him calm down.

After kissing your forehead a few times to test how asleep you were, he unzipped the side pocket of his flight suit and carefully removed his phone. You shifted a bit, and your nose twitched in the most adorable way, but you dozed on while he texted Nat to see if she could help him out tomorrow. She already told him numerous times that she liked hanging out with you.

"Bradley," you mumbled, arching your back and stretching as soon as he set his phone down on the couch. "You need dinner," you told him with a soft kiss before standing and reaching for him. He took your left hand in his right one, hoping this might be the last night that you weren't wearing the ring that would signify to everyone else that you'd be his wife someday.

"I came up with a plan while you napped," he said softly. "Dinner and then a shower together and then we'll get in bed early. You look so tired after nailing Career Day, Gorgeous. You need a little break."

His stomach growled obnoxiously. "And you need to eat," you told him with a laugh. "Come on. I'll make you something."

"Nope," he replied, gripping you tight as he stood up with you in his arms. "I'm going to take care of it."

You held on as you guided your legs around his waist. Your lips on his scarred cheek took him all the way back to the early days of those flirtatious emails. "Okay, handsome," you whispered, kissing him softly. "I'm not going to argue with you tonight. It's our first weekend with you back home, and I've been missing all of this. I'm finally off tomorrow, and we can relax all day."

When Bradley set you down on the kitchen counter with a kiss to your perfect lips, he heard your phone vibrating on the coffee table and tried not to grin as he asked, "Want me to grab that for you?"

"Please," you replied, looking beyond cute perched between the stove and the wilted bouquet in the makeshift Miller High Life vase. When he backtracked and picked up your phone, Bradley saw that the text notification was from Nat, and he knew he was going to have to take her out for another steak dinner soon as a thank you.

"Oh," you said when you tapped your screen. "Natasha texted me."

"Really?" he asked, feigning surprise as he took inventory of what the refrigerator had to offer. It was honestly a little scary how much he'd eaten since Monday.

"Yeah," you murmured, eyes skimming the message. "She thanked me for inviting her to Career Day. And," you added, giving him a cautious look, "she wants to know if I want to hang out with her tomorrow afternoon. We still have money left on the winery gift card."

"You should go," he urged, pulling everything out to make pancakes for dinner. "I love that my girl gets along with my best friend."

You were chewing your lip nervously. "Yeah?" you asked, thumbs poised like you were ready to type back. "Even though I literally just told you I can't wait to relax with you tomorrow?"

Bradley chuckled, knowing he was leading you in the direction he wanted you to go. But of course you'd be in good hands. "Gorgeous, we can still sleep in late. And as soon as you get home, I'm hoping you'll feel so in love, you'll want to cuddle with me for the rest of the night."

"I always feel so in love with you, Bradley."

He abandoned the eggs and butter as he whispered, "Say my name again?"

"Bradley."

It was another hour before the pancakes were ready.

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

"I thought we were going to sleep in," you whispered, lips brushing Bradley's as his hands explored your naked body. It was around the time you usually woke up for work, and you were still tired. But his words had you pushing him onto his back.

"I missed you so much, I'm still making up for lost time."

His hands were big and rough as you took them in yours and pinned them above his head. His body was beautiful in the early light, all muscular angles and ruddy cheeks. You kissed his biceps and then his stubbled cheek and then his lips. He was already hard, you could feel him. Bradley was strong and sexy, and he was yours.

"I'm not going to lie... I love how much you missed me," you told him before kissing your way along the side of his nose. "Because that's how much I missed you, too."

Bradley's kisses were sweet, yet they lingered. Your hips moved slowly against his body, setting the pace exactly how you wanted it. Your reaction to him was always effortless. His wide pupils let you know it was the same for him. 

"Baby," he whined as you tightened your hold on his wrists. He was rubbing himself up against you, looking for the friction you needed as well. Slick with arousal, your pussy welcomed the tip of him, and you rolled your hips slowly, taking him inch by inch until you were full. "Oh, fuck, Gorgeous," he rasped, lips parted as he looked up at you with those pretty brown eyes. "You feel so good."

You went slowly, and your hands eventually found their way to his shoulders. Bradley coaxed you closer until you were kissing him as you worked your hips in a steady rhythm that you knew would give you both what you wanted. You thought about every cold morning you woke up here without him while a bead of sweat rolled down along your spine. You got lost in the way he smelled and how his hair felt between your fingers. He was yours.

"I love you," he groaned. "Oh, I love you so much."

You came on his cock as your movements turned jerky, and he filled you with cum as you whimpered his name. Then you eased your body down so you were laying on top of him. "This is how I want to spend the rest of my life," Bradley whispered. "Loving you and fucking you and cuddling."

With a soft laugh, you relaxed enough to fall asleep again while he ran his fingers along your back.

The next time you woke up, it was three hours later, and Bradley wasn't in bed. He wasn't even at home. After you pulled on his sweatshirt, you found a note on top of the sandwich he made for your lunch in the refrigerator. 

Out for a quick run with Nat, and then I'm stopping at Home Depot for Edith. I love you.

You enjoyed your sandwich quietly in the kitchen while taking inventory of the grocery situation. Bradley already ate everything which made you smile. It would take a few weeks, but you'd make sure he bulked up again. Maybe you could get him to go shopping with you tomorrow morning.

When you sat down on the couch with your phone, you were pleasantly reminded of how sore you still were from the past few days with Bradley back from deployment. The gentle ache brought with it the memory of how much better your orgasms were with him than alone. You really needed to start getting dressed since you were sure Nat was going to want to head to the winery after they finished their run, but you stayed sprawled out on the couch until Bradley walked back inside.

"Hey, Gorgeous," he rasped, still a little sweaty in his gym clothes and carrying a bag from the hardware store. "You got enough rest?"

"I did," you giggled as he tossed the bag onto the coffee table and straddled your waist. "Do you think we should buy a bigger couch at some point?"

"Nah. This one's more fun," he replied as your fingers threaded through his damp hair. "Means I can get nice and close." 

Would this needy feeling for him ever go away? You hoped not. But just as soon as he really kissed you nice and hard, he was pulling away. Bradley smacked you lightly on your rear end where he spanked you the other night.

"You better get ready to go with Nat. And I need to fix Edith's mailbox and get my free piano lesson."

"And then when I get home, we're cuddling and watching a movie right here," you told him firmly, patting the couch cushion.

"As long as you still want to."

You rolled your eyes. Of course that's what you were going to want to do. Maybe you and he could even enjoy some more wine after you had wine with his friend. You were smiling as you thought about the plethora of wine you might be enjoying today as you got dressed in some jeans and an oversized sweater. You skipped makeup, because it was Saturday, and when Natasha arrived, you walked outside with Bradley.

"I love you. Call if you need me," he crooned, kissing you and waving before turning toward Edith's house.

You must have been watching the sexy way he walked for a little too long, because Natasha honked her horn and yelled out the window, "I want some wine!"

"Sorry!" you told her, laughing as you climbed in the passenger seat.

She was pulling away from the curb when she replied, "It's nice to see you so happy again. You seemed to have a good time at Career Day, and now you're all smiles for your boyfriend."

"I missed him so much," you said, watching Bradley get smaller in the side view mirror as she drove. "I felt instantly better when he got home from Norfolk."

"You're going to freak out later," she mumbled, making a left turn.

"What?" You weren't sure you'd heard her correctly.

"Nothing. You ready for some wine?"

"Absolutely. We can finish off the gift card," you told her. "And I found another winery for us to try next time that serves frozen wine slushies."

"That sounds like heaven. Thank god you fell in love with Bradley so we can have girls' days."

That put a permanent smile on your face. Just knowing that Natasha thought you and he were a good match really meant a lot. She'd known him for a long time.

"How was your run earlier?" you asked, settling in for the ride.

"Running in February is always better than running in July or August," she replied easily. "I might have to start bringing headphones again though, because the man will not shut up about you the whole time."

You covered your face with your hands while she laughed. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It was so bad at times before he met you, I used to have to put my earbuds in and pretend I was listening to him complain about his exes. It was always the same thing. Nat, I don't know how to break up with her, but she's kind of mean to me. Nat, I can't keep taking her to the bar, because she flirts with everyone else. Nat, why is she being so selfish? Nat, I feel like she's just using me. Nat. Nat. Nat. Nat. Nat." Her voice softened as she said, "It's not like that with you at all. Now he just wants to know if I think his date ideas sound stupid or romantic. And if I think he's crazy for already having you move in."

"What did you tell him?" you asked immediately.

She grinned as she switched lanes. "Trust me when I say I've given him some solid date ideas. And I told him he would have been miserable if he waited any longer to ask you to live with him. That man is so solidly in love with you, it is disgusting."

"The feeling is mutual," you whispered as your cheeks burned.

"I know. Now let's enjoy some wine while we talk shit about him. I've been way too nice today up to this point."

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

When Natasha dropped you off after four hours of wine and conversation, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. You were already looking forward to hanging out with her again soon.

"Want me to tell Bradley you'll run with him tomorrow morning?" you asked, leaning back in the passenger side door as you stood next to her car.

"Nope," she replied, shaking her head. "There's no way he's going to want to get up and run in the morning. Tell him I'll see him at work."

"Okay," you replied, confused by her thought process. Bradley usually liked getting his cardio workouts in with a partner rather than alone. You'd follow up with him about it in a minute. "Thanks for driving. Wine slushies next time?"

"Wine slushies next time. Enjoy your night," she said with a wink.

You waved as she drove off, the sky getting dark and the air cooling down even further around you. Edith's mailbox next door looked perfect once more, so Bradley must have finished that project. You shivered as you hustled up to your front door ready to get inside and into the warmth of his arms.

The living room was a little darker than usual when you walked in, and then you realized it was because the only light was coming from your candles which had been placed around the room. You were about to call out for Bradley and ask him why he was burning every single candle you brought with you when you moved in, but then you froze.

"Oh my god," you gasped, taking one stumbling step further into the room to get a closer look. The flickering light illuminated dozens and dozens of paper airplanes all folded up and taped to the dark blue wall above the couch. They were arranged beautifully, and you swallowed hard when you realized they spelled out a message.

MARRY ME?

It was just two words, but they took up the whole wall. Your fingers were shaking as you brought them up to your lips, and then you heard Bradley's voice.

"Hey, Gorgeous," came that familiar rasp. You turned to face him as he stood there in one of his tropical print shirts and his worn out jeans with a nervous smile on his face.

"Bradley?" You glanced at the wall and then back at his face. You weren't even sure if your words were intelligible as you muttered, "Paper planes?"

His smile widened. "It's all the letters you and your class sent to me. You know... when you were looking for a Naval aviator to write back and answer a few questions? I guess a few questions turned into a lot more than that. And a simple correspondence with a gorgeous fourth grade teacher soon made me realize that you're the woman of my dreams. My pen pals changed my whole life." He nodded toward the wall. "Your students helped me fold them up yesterday."

"They did?" you managed as he took a step closer until he was right in front of you, and then and sank down onto one knee. 

"They did." He was all vulnerable brown eyes and sincerity as he looked up at you and said, "I love you. And I have something for you, Gorgeous." He swallowed hard. "It was my mom's." He held up his right hand, fingers curled in a loose fist. You watched as he carefully unfurled them, revealing a ring resting on his palm. "I want you to have it. Unless you don't like it. It's from 1984, and it's definitely vintage, so I won't be upset if you tell me you'd rather have something more modern." He was rambling, but you could barely breathe from the butterflies which were fluttering hard against your ribcage. "Maverick was holding onto her engagement ring for safekeeping. I had no idea until he heard me talking about how desperately I want to marry you."

"Bradley," you gasped, trying to hold back your tears as you sucked in shallow breaths. "Are you serious?"

You'd known him for less than a year, but you never felt this comfortable or safe around another person before. You never felt so loved. When he raised his hand a little higher like he was ready to hand you the ring along with his heart, he said, "I'm serious. You told me forever sounds good to you. It sounds good to me, too. I think we should do it. Will you marry me?"

There was really only one acceptable answer when you knew he belonged with you. When you were certain your future and his matched up perfectly. When there was no chance you could love anyone else like you loved him.

"Yes."

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

Yes. Yes. Yesss! Thanks kiddos, for making it extra special. I don't think any of them will be surprised to find their teacher sporting some new jewelry at school. Bradley plus Gorgeous equals forever.

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[whimsicaltales]

A Moment's Peace

18+ | MDNI | Content Warnings

Hey, it's Davis from the coffee shop. I didn't get a chance to talk much with you, but I really enjoyed meeting you. Would you like to grab dinner sometime?

As Davis's message popped up on the screen, I felt an immediate sense of relief. After everything that had happened with Nancy, I felt like I was drowning in guilt and loneliness, desperate for someone—anyone—to distract me from the mess I'd made. But a small voice in the back of my mind whispered Chris's name.

I quickly typed back before I could overthink it, pushing away the nagging feeling.

Hey! I'd love to. I'm having a slow day today and was considering getting out for a bit. How about we grab something to eat earlier instead of dinner? Maybe lunch or coffee?

I hit send and held my breath, my fingers nervously drumming against the steering wheel. The reply came faster than I expected, and my heart gave a small flutter as I read his response.

That sounds great! I was thinking of just relaxing at home, but lunch sounds better. What time works for you?

A smile tugged at my lips, the first genuine one I'd felt all day, even as I felt a slight heaviness in my chest. How about around noon?

His reply was almost instant, the notification chime mixing with the distant honk of a car horn outside. Perfect! I know just the place too. How about we meet at that new ramen place downtown?

Sounds great! See you then! As I set my phone down, a flicker of excitement sparked inside me, cutting through the heaviness of my day.

There was something about Davis that made me feel lighter, like maybe things weren't as bad as they seemed. My excitement was tinged with a subtle regret, a reminder of Chris and the web of emotions I was navigating.

༺ 𐕣 ༻

As we walked into the ramen place, the aroma of steaming noodles filled the air, but instead of making my mouth water, it only served as a reminder of how little I could actually enjoy human food.

The friendly hostess greeted us with a smile and led us to a quiet corner table by the window. The sunlight streaming in highlighted the vibrant colors of the restaurant's decor, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.

Once we settled in, I picked up the menu, scanning it with feigned interest. Davis seemed genuinely excited about the options. "How about we try the spicy miso ramen?" he suggested, his grin contagious.

"Sure," I said with a smile, hoping my tone sounded natural. It didn’t matter what I ordered—I wasn’t here for the food.

After placing our order, I turned to him, eager to shift focus away from myself. "So," I began, leaning forward slightly, "how's your comic book business going?"

His face lit up instantly. "It's going great!" he said. "I submitted a new cover design for a variant Vampirella comic."

I smiled warmly. "That sounds exciting! I'm sure it's a lot of work, but it must feel amazing to see your ideas come to life."

Before he could respond, our food arrived. The server placed the steaming bowls in front of us, and Davis immediately picked up his chopsticks with excitement. I followed suit, lifting a small portion of noodles to my mouth. As soon as I took a bite, I regretted it. The flavors tasted like ash on my tongue. I tried not to grimace but failed miserably.

Davis noticed right away. "Is your food okay?" he asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

I quickly forced a smile and waved him off. "Oh, it's fine," I said lightly, scrambling for an excuse that wouldn’t raise suspicion. "I'm just not very hungry today."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with my response. "No worries," he said with an easy smile. "Sometimes food just doesn't sound good, even when it looks amazing. We can get your food to go so you can enjoy it later"

I nodded along, grateful that he didn’t press further. As we continued talking about his comic book projects, his gaze lingered on me for just a moment too long.

"You know," he said suddenly, tilting his head slightly as if studying me more closely, "your eyes are really pretty."

I froze for half a second before laughing softly to cover my unease.

"I've never seen anyone with red eyes before," he added.

"Thanks," I replied casually, hoping my voice sounded steady. "Yeah… it's pretty rare."

Rare was an understatement—it was practically unheard of among humans—but thankfully Davis didn’t seem suspicious.

"Well," he said with an easy grin that made me relax just a little more, "it suits you. You're definitely one of a kind."

His words sent an unexpected warmth through me—something I hadn’t felt in longer than I cared to admit. At least, he didn’t suspect anything unusual about me… and for now, that was enough.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, stretching on for hours as the hum of the restaurant faded into the background. For the first time in what felt like forever, I forgot about the weight pressing on my shoulders. Eventually, though, the evening had to end.

As we stood outside, the cool air brushing against my skin, Davis smiled at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I had a great time today," he said sincerely. "I really hope we can do this again."

I returned his smile, feeling a flicker of something I hadn’t felt in a long time—hope. "Me too," I said softly.

I climbed into my car, the faint smell of leather and lingering traces of air freshener greeting me as I settled into the seat. The glow of my phone screen lit up the dim interior as I started the engine. A string of missed calls from Chris stared back at me. My thumb hovered over his name for a moment before I sighed and locked the screen. Not tonight. I wasn’t in the mood.

The drive home was quiet, the rhythmic hum of the tires on asphalt lulling me into a sense of calm. But the calm was short-lived; as I turned into my apartment complex, flashing red and blue lights burst into view.

"Shit" I muttered under my breath.

[toby-determined]

How Do You Solve A Mystery Like Maria? || Self-Para

Toby follows his lead to London.

Triggers: none except for my american ass trying to describe london england <3

Navigating a city like London should have probably been harder than it was turning out to be. And maybe it would have been had he been someone that was more than background noise on the canvas. He was allowed to move with the same surety of a background actor on film, his only job to hit his marks and keep on going until the camera no longer registered his presence. No one bothered to pay him any mind, eliminating most problems others may run into. 

Clouds formed in a heavy layer over the sky, allowing for a cliche atmosphere as Toby exited the Camdon Town underground station. The streets never seemed to be lacking in people, cars always on their way to somewhere. Very much unlike the little town he had come to know over the years, where there was an ebb and flow of foot traffic depending on the time of day or year. There were pockets of quiet in Swynlake that he doubted London could foster out in the open, those select places were no doubt tucked away in the many crevices that the city had hidden between buildings. 

The cold weather clung to him as he made his way across the street and down the way until he was standing in the Camden Lock Market. The buildings were dense, no room in between them, and there were more people here than he’d run into all day. Made sense, of course, as this seemed to be both inherently popular as well as a tourist trap of sorts, being a large place to buy things to take home with someone as a souvenir or just somewhere to point and browse with someone else. The sidewalks on either side took up more space than the actual place for cars to be driving, the ones there all in one neat row of slow moving tires and hands ready on the horn to honk at whatever pedestrian wasn’t paying attention to the world around them and rather their phone between their hand. 

Toby stepped with the foot traffic, following the crowd down toward the large cartoonish sign that read Camden Lock in large, yellow letters on a teal background. He ignored the souvenir t-shirts that blew in the cold breeze, signs advertising for tattoos and piercings as well as food, and all the other odd little shops that he passed on his way by until he had reached the bridge. There, he found the entry way down to the canal that the bridge had been built over. 

The towpath was significantly less crowded than the noisy street still above. It was remarkable to him that people still wanted to be out in weather such as this, with no sun and a miserable breeze, but the laughter and loud conversation seemed to prove him otherwise. The water of the canal was a particularly disgusting shade of brown and the green algae that sat floating on the top did nothing to make it better. There was that distinct smell of wet cement that rose from the sides of it, but he knew it was not nearly as bad as it probably was in the warmer months. When the heat of the sun probably made everything more vibrant and pungent. 

He stuck his hands into his jacket pockets as he continued down the path, staying close to the wall to stay out of the ways of those that had taken to jogging or riding a their bicycles down it. Willow trees hung over the water, their whimsical branches swaying with gentle movements in that breeze. 

Buildings lay on either side of the canal as he walked along it, passing under the occasional bridge. It seemed to be mostly residents that hugged up against the canal, but there was the odd business or the one primary school he noticed the signage for. Other trees and vegetation sprouted up the farther he got away from the where he had originally entered the towpath, people becoming sparse. Even in the gardens of the homes and apartments he walked passed. Vines of ivy seemed to cover the brick walls that had been built up from the canal’s level to build up from. They looked haggard and brown in the harsher weather, ready to be cut back so that the oncoming spring could bring them new life. 

And on the water itself, were houseboats. They were not so dense in this area as they may have been closer to Warwick, along Blomfield Rd in Little Venice, but there were enough docked together to still blend in. Plus, the foot traffic from earlier would be an easy means of losing someone should anyone need to before walking off down the path to get home to one of them. 

Toby stopped next to one and tilted his head as he watched it move in its watery parking spot. He pulled one of his hands from its refuge in his pocket, and with it came the picture he had taken from Divian’s apartment. He held it up in front of the scene, turning to note the background more than he did the houseboat. It had been repainted, more garden boxes put on its roof. But the background had hardly changed. There were still the same houses, the same iron fence. The trees and plants were naked and lacking the greenery in the photo in their slumbering state, but they were still there, too. 

This was the boathouse, its permanent mooring spot having not changed despite the ownership having done so. 

He looked back at the boat, stuffing the photo back into his jacket and took in a deep breath. 

This was always the hard part– convincing someone to talk to him. 

It took Toby a good while to figure out how to even get onto the boat. Turns out he just had to jump on as there was no ramp like an entryway. It seemed rude, though, to be standing on it without permission. This was someone’s home, after all. But he was who he was, which was someone who had done far worse without permission, so he knew he shouldn’t be that bothered. 

It was just the added layer that this was now the home of a woman on the run– who had been forced from her home and her family and her boyfriend because she had (presumably) been scared away by a man. He didn’t want to spook her by showing up unannounced, if this was where Maria was staying. All the evidence seemed to point that way but there was always the chance that the stars had aligned and it had all been a massive series of coincidences. That meant he was just standing on a stranger’s houseboat, and he would have no way to reason with them if they decided to alert the authorities to his presence. Given the nature of living in a place like this, he didn’t doubt the residents were probably used to outsiders trying to get into their houses, as sad as that was to think.

Either way, he approached the double door that sat there, knocked, and waited. 

No answer came. 

He knocked again. 

Still nothing. 

Toby let out that breath. 

It seemed he had come while whoever lived there was away. 

He always did have impeccable timing.

Toby stumbled off the boat and back onto the path, his shoe having gotten caught on the lip of the boat and nearly causing him to take a tumble into the canal. Luckily he managed to avoid this but had to fall onto his hands and knees against the bank, the cement biting at his palms and kneecaps through his trousers that also soaked up the wetness there. He got to his feet, rubbing his hands off against one another, and sighed. 

“Oi, you alright there?” someone asked him and Toby looked up, watching as a woman approached. She was covered by the shadows of the bridge she was passing under, so Toby just nodded. 

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” he said, looking back down at his hands. Some of the grime had been wiped away, revealing angry red marks that stung. “I only fell.” 

He heard laughter from the woman, closer now as her footsteps continued to carry her closer. “It’s a good thing you fell on solid land rather than in there! I just had to fish a dog out of there the other day, the poor thing smelled awful and was shivering like a leaf.” 

Toby smiled, and looked up to make a comment, but it got lost as soon as he looked at the woman again, now only a few meters away from him. 

She had a silk scarf wrapped around her head, dark greens and blues coloring the detailed pattern on the fabric. Her coat was plain black and puffy, her jeans a dark wash, and boots black and worn down. Her skin was brown and only just showing the lines of the years that belonged to her. She had a pleasant smile on her face, polite but warm. Canvas bags hung around her shoulders, as well as one that was being hugged to her person by an arm, the other had reached up to take out a bluetooth earbud that she had been listening to on her walk. She was, remarkably, shorter than himself by a few inches. 

“Uh,” Toby said. 

It made the woman, Maria’s, face pinch slightly with confusion. “You sure you’re alright? Didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”

He shook his head. 

“Okay,” she said, slowly. Her eyes, big and dark, glanced toward the boat as she shifted the bag in her hand, getting a better grip on it. “Where are you headed?”

Where was he–? Oh. Right. Toby swallowed. She was only standing there talking to him because he hadn’t said why he was there. Except, all he did was take in a breath to start talking and the next thing he knew, he was watching her drop her bag of groceries in favor of holding a taser in her hand and pointing it at him. Toby startled at the sound of it, the electric cracking that cut through the air had him holding his hands up and eyes squeezing shut.

“Whoa!” he said, ducking his person down a few inches, like that would do anything should she have come forward to stick the taser against him. 

“Get out of here,” she said, tone having turned into a threat so easily. 

“But I–” he tried only for the taser to go off again, making him flinch. 

“I said leave! I will use this.”

“Divian’s looking for you!” was all Toby could think to say. It was supposed to be his last desperate plea, the back pocket ace to pull out, and yet here he was, using it right off the bat. 

“...what?” came the quiet reply. 

Toby peaked open an eye, leaning to look around his arms at the woman. She was still holding out the taser but it had lowered, her grip on it lessened as she looked at him with a creased brow. 

“What did you say?” she asked.

“Divian,” Toby said, voice sturdier now, but that was about it as his heart continued to pound harshly. “He…he asked for help to find you. Mr. Lucas is–”

“Stop,” she said, holding up her other hand, palm facing Toby. She looked over her shoulder as a group of teenagers passed over the bridge above them, laughing and joking with one another as they looked over into the murky waters below. Maria looked back at Toby and pressed something on the taser before tucking it back into her pocket. 

He let out a breath, relief flooding him, and watched as she crouched down to pick up the fallen back, having to scoop a few apples that had rolled out back inside. When she stood she tilted her head toward the boat, and stepped up and into it. “Come on, we can talk inside.” 

Toby hesitated as she got her keys out, sticking them into the lock before pulling the doors open and stepping down into the cabin. When she stuck her head out again she gave him a look that had him scrambling back onto the boat, and following her down inside. 

It was rather cozy. He had been picturing something colder, but there were plants in the little window sills that had matching curtains, all drawn up halfway. There was a little wood burning stove that sat just inside the door in the corner on a platform, a pipe chimney running from it up into the ceiling where it no doubt produced the smoke when it was in use. Beside it were shelves filled with books and other various items, like a decorative little dog statue and a golden pineapple.

Across from it was a long bench that stretched two windows and was covered in pillows and blankets. Behind this was the kitchen area, on one side was the sink, oven, and a dishwasher. The other side just seemed to be counter space, taken up by various appliances like an electric kettle, toaster, and some sort of coffee maker. There was a small cabinet above the sink, but for the most part it seemed like the storage was all below the counters. Next to this was a large space that ran from the roof down to the floor, the handle looked different from the wooden ones that stuck out from the cabinets. He guessed it must have been a fridge. 

Beyond that was a doorway with a curtain covering it, presumably where it led to a bedroom of sorts. 

“You can sit down,” she told him as she busied herself taking things out of her grocery bags and setting them on the empty counter until it was filled with vegetables and fruits, bread, cheese, a packet of Oreos. 

Toby sat on the bench, having to move one of the pillows and setting it on his lap to run his hand over. It was bright yellow and very soft under his finger tips. 

Tea?” Maria asked. When he looked up she was holding the kettle under the sink faucet and glancing up at him, elegant dark brows raised on her forehead. 

“Oh, yes, thank you,” he nodded, watching as she put the filled kettle back on its stand before getting out two mugs from the little cabinet above the sink. She resumed putting away her groceries, tucking things into drawers and little doors, as well as what was a refrigerator. By the time she had finished, the water was boiling and she got out a box of tea to take two bags out of to pop into the awaiting mugs. 

She brought them over after having poured the water and handed him one. 

“Thank you,” he repeated, taking it from her. She sat down and they stared at their steeping tea for a moment before he broke the silence. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this.”

“I’m sorry for threatening you earlier,” she said and it made him huff in amusement. Rare was it to get an apology for something like that. “I thought…”

“It’s alright,” he dismissed with a waving hand. “I understand.”

“Do you?” 

“I…maybe not,” Toby admitted. “But I would like to.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

“Partly,” he said. 

“And the rest?”

“Answers,” he told her. “And the truth. Like I said, Divian is looking for you and…even if you don’t come back, I think he deserves to know why you left without saying anything.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, as if hearing this had stung her. When she opened them she pinned them upon Toby, curious. “Who are you?”

“I’m Toby. Toby Determined, I know Divian,” he said. “We’re friends.”

“Toby Determined?” she repeated, raising a brow with obvious skepticism. “Interesting name. You’re not from here.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I moved a few years back. To Swynlake, actually, that's how I found Divian in NTO.”

“Why'd you move?”

“That’s a long story,” he smiled. “And not the one we’re here to discuss.”

“Right,” she sighed, leaning back a little into the cushions behind her. “Why is he looking for me?” 

Toby’s brows furrowed. “I…should think that’s obvious…”

Maria merely blinked at him and Toby couldn’t believe she didn’t know. 

“He’s still in love with you,” he said, which made her roll her eyes and open her mouth, an obvious dismissal seeming ready to come out in protest. Toby stopped her. “No, honest. He is. He really is. He’s keeping your restaurant open for you. I think…I think he’s been hoping you’d return to it after he couldn’t find you.”

“Oh god,” she whispered, raising a hand to press her index finger and thumb against her closed eyes. Emotion colored her falling expression. “That idiot! I left that place behind for a reason!”

Toby frowned, as this was not the reaction he had been expecting. Usually when someone heard about a gesture like that, they grew wistful and grateful. Maria– well, she looked rather annoyed. “You…don’t want the restaurant.”

“No!” she blurted, lowering her hand to look at him. Her eyes had a fire in them, reflecting her frustration. “It’s not that I don’t want it I–! I made some mistakes. Bad ones. I was stupid and desperate and I trusted the wrong people and I couldn’t…keep up! I was drowning and there’s only so much you can do when someone’s holding your head under the water, you know?” 

“So you ran away,” Toby prompted. 

“Yeah,” she nodded. 

“But…why not tell Divian?” he asked.

“I couldn’t. Divian would have wanted to fix it, he knew how much that place meant to me, knew that I just wanted to make it work so badly…and the man who was threatening me–”

“Lucas.”

“–yes. Lucas had started to use Divian against me. Threatening him, his family, his reputation, and I-I couldn’t do that to him. I’d already made him waste so much time working at that place! And taking care of me I…I thought…” Maria pressed her lips together, chin wobbling. Toby could see the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over. “I knew everything would be better if I just disappeared. If there was no me and no restaurant then Lucas would have no reason to come sniffing around anymore.” 

“But when Divian reopened it, Lucas found him anyway,” Toby continued and Maria blew out a breath. 

“Idiot,” she said but there was no heat on it this time. It sounded rather fond. “So, what? Has he got search parties looking for me now or something?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. I’m a reporter. Me and my–” Toby faltered, his chest giving a painful lurch at the thought of Anastasia. At the notion that he had no idea what they even were anymore. What they were to begin with. “–work partner offered to help him after Mr. Lucas came into the restaurant one day and had an argument with Divian. He was reluctant to tell us but, well, my partner can be rather persuasive when she wants to be.”

Maria hummed thoughtfully and sipped on her tea as she seemed to mull this over. Toby regarded her for another moment before glancing down into his own mug. 

“May I ask you something?” he inquired. When she nodded he went on, “Why did you leave?” 

She frowned, confused. “It’s like I said, I…I couldn’t pay the money I owed. There didn’t seem like any other option but to leave.”

“Forgive me, I meant, why did you leave Divian?” he corrected. “You loved him, didn’t you? Or at the very least cared about him. It seems rather cruel to have kept him in the dark. You couldn’t have at least told him you were going elsewhere to get away from Mr. Lucas?”

Maria’s features slackened then, shoulders falling. She swallowed thickly and looked away, shaking her head minutely. “I did. I do love him. Of course I do, I’ve loved him for what feels like my entire life! God it– it was the one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, walk away from him and everything. And to know that he’s just a few hours away, but that I can’t just call him?”

Toby continued to watch her as she leaned forward against her elbows that she rested into her thighs. She sniffled and then made an annoyed sound at herself.

“Sorry. I don’t even know you and here I am–”

“It's alright. I asked,” he said gently. 

She looked up, eyes glassy, and studied Toby in return for a long moment. Finally, she went on. “I left because I wanted him to have a future. A good future, I didn’t want him to get wrapped up in my mistakes just because we loved one another. There’s more to life than that these days. I may have been what he wanted at that moment but…I wasn’t what he needed. And I knew if I told him I was going, he would ask me not to and I wouldn’t have been able to leave if he did.”

They stared at one another while those words washed over him and then he nodded his understanding, turning to take a drink of the tea. After he swallowed, he asked, “So what will you do now?”

“Not a clue.” She gave a ragged sigh and eyed him. “What about you?”

“Well, I’ll have to tell Divian you’re alive and why you left,” he said. “But…if you want to remain here, I won’t tell him where you are.” 

“Why not?” she asked. “He asked you to find me, didn’t he?”

“He did, but if you ask me not to tell him you’re here, then I won’t. Fair is fair.”

Maria cracked a smile and nodded once. “Some reporter you are.” 

Toby returned the smile, ducking his head. 

They continued to talk for a few minutes, Maria grilling Toby about how he had physically tracked her down and him having to reassure her that he doubted Lucas would be able to find her if he hadn’t already. And when their mugs were empty, Toby stood and bid his farewell. Maria walked up on the deck to watch him fumble his way back onto the shore. 

“Hey,” she called after he had started to walk away. It made him pause and turn back, brows raised. “You said you had a partner?” 

He nodded.

“Why aren’t they here with you?”

Toby blinked and fished his phone from his pocket, looking at the lock screen void of notifications. Then more so at the photo that sat under the time– it was an old picture. Years at this point. It was of that odd green drink Anastasia had made for him when he had gone over to her house. He’d taken it for the game he played with his sister, having needed something that started with the letter G.

But it had been something she had made, in a cup that she owned, in her house, on her counter top. It was the closest he felt like he could have without it being a picture of her because he couldn’t do that in case someone noticed.

“She’s following another lead,” he told Maria, looking up. 

“Oh,” Maria nodded. “Guess she drew the short straw then?”

“Yes,” he said. Anastasia always did, didn’t she? Yet she always made the best of her situation. “Thank you, again.”

“Safe travels,” she smiled.

He waved and then turned back around, heading toward the little walkway that led up to the main street. 

The sky had not changed. The temperature had remained cold. The streets were the same as when he had left them for that short pocket of time aboard Maria’s makeshift home. 

Toby had changed through the course of that conversation, though, and he decided that a lot of things would, too, when he returned to Swynlake.