#GET BEHIND ME FERGUS

[tru-chulainn]

Third post attempt’s the charm…?

Not the usual style on my blog but it’s the main style I have outside of the blog so u might see more of it

[thegoodduckfan]

The scene of Fergus' death is honestly one of my favorite moments in the entire Life and Times saga.

This hits so hard for me. In all of the chapters so far Scrooge has been trying to make money to support his family in Dismal Downs/Glasgow and now after his long journey, he's home but it doesn't feel like home anymore, so he leaves. He wanted to take his father, who supported him every step of the way chose to stay behind.

Seeing him with Downy was very bittersweet, especially after chapter 8 when Scrooge discovering his mother died via S. Slick:

And Scrooge's visit to his mother's grave ealier in chapter 9

It just feels really bittersweet to see them sending their kids off to a new, brighter future and meeting with the Ghost of Sir Quackly who has been wonderful in chapter 1.

And it all culminates beautifully in chapter 11, right after Scrooge committed a hate crime and his sisters left him, he argues with himself on what he should do, but only his father can get him into the right track again.

In short Fergus McDuck is absolutely one of my favorite Disney characters, even with his short screen time and in my opinion Don Rosa's best original character.

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 11: ~

In Times of War:

Last chapter before the official Rescue Arc begins.

TW: War, PTSD and Death.

Part 12:

'Attention, all personnel. Message from the mainland has stated that the rescue will be here by 13:00 hours. I repeat 13:00 hours. Gather your belongings and prepare closing down.'

Roper had to admit. He found great joy in making an announcement instead of Rennick.

It was a busy yet strange morning for Beria. The crew ate their breakfast as they worked on getting the rig closed. None of them had done this before. Only gotten themselves ready in swapping shifts or leaving it stable enough for another set of crew to arrive. They'd all been trained, but it was the case of remembering.

Roy, Caz, Finlay, and eventually Innes and Muir worked on moving food from the pantry and into the containers. Leave nothing purchased from Cadal's pockets behind. The last thing you want is to be in debt to them. Brodie and Raffs focused on The Stack with the help of Engineering and Pontoons. There is no need for an explosion now. Luck was on their side, and they'd like to keep it that way.

O'Connor left the Pontoons to Fergus. He accompanied Rennick to Administration to collect all the important documents Beria will need. Despite Rennick seemingly hating everyone, O'Connor was someone he always tolerated. He was one of the few who never got a verbal beatdown and knew to stay in his lane. Plus, working in the depths of the rig meant the pair never saw each other. Just quick acknowledgement as they entered the canteen. Currently, the pair sat outside the building, eating their breakfast in mostly silence.

'I can't believe we're doing this,' Rennick muttered as he chewed through the sausage barm that dripped grease and tomato ketchup. He never knew how hungry he was until his infection. Before, Rennick just survived on coffee and stress. He often wondered how he hadn't dropped dead from it all. 'Sneaking us back to the mainland and hoping they let us go.' Of course, it was McLeary's idea.

'If you have a better idea, then I'm all ears.'

'No. But...' Rennick did not have any other ideas. 'Operation Spy?' Once again, of course it was McLeary. 'We're not spies, Dónal. Look at us.' He pointed to him. 'Tinker.' He pointed to Dobbie, who was walking by. 'Tailor.' He pointed to Innes. 'Soldier.' He pointed to himself. 'Twat.'

O'Connor tried not to laugh through the sip of his coffee. Then, it hit him.

'Did you say my first name, Davey?'

'Oh get fucked, O'Connor. Of course I know your name. I know everyone's first, middle, that you don't have, and last name.' He tossed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth. 'Now, get your specks on and help me.'

Like the old fud he was, Rennick sulked towards his office to begin the search for documents. With a last sip of coffee, O'Connor followed. Good thing, too, because he side-stepped a tendril Rennick was going to use to drag the older man along. 'Alright. Alright.'

'Well, move it.'

Apart from the knocked over books, Rennick's office was practically untouched. Might be because The Shape didn't make it this far before dying. O'Connor went first, put on his round glasses, and began to shift through.

'Surely, they wouldn't need half of this?'

'You'd be surprised,' Rennick scoffed. 'They'll want all of our documents and any damage updates.' He paused. 'Which I never reported.'

'What could you even put in a report now? Beria damaged from an ancient entity we drilled through and royally pissed off?'

Okay, Rennick had to chuckle at that. Just one chuckle, though.

O'Connor continued to shuffle. From daily records to first aid and payments. All were needed. He tucked the most recent file of contracts under his arm and slid the rest of the files towards Rennick, who lingered halfway through the door. O'Connor went to stand, but a glint from a picture frame caught his eye. It sat on a shelf under the desk, and curiosity got the best of him. The resemblance was undeniable. Of course it was Rennick. He was younger. Early 30s. Leaning against a military jeep with two other blokes. They all held their issued rifles with wide smiles and dripping with sweat as they wrapped cloth around their foreheads. Rennick wasn't wearing a shirt, where a tattoo could be seen on his upper arm. What it was was hard to tell due to the angle. O'Connor glanced to his manager, who was shuffling through the files. He slowly walked over and offered the frame. 'I don't think you should leave this behind, eh?'

Rennick looked up from the paperwork, and his eyes widened. He gently took the photo and gazed at the memory. The same feeling from yesterday came back. The nostalgic feeling and the yearning to be young again. O'Connor noticed the hurt look in Rennick's eyes as he dazed off into the past.

The day was a scorcher, expected for the desert. As the soldiers could finally take a break and check their equipment, Rennick was called over by the men who stood beside him. George and Kenneth. The trio had been thick as thieves, and George was going to make sure this was a memory to keep. Rich lad from Cornwall. Always had the best technology. The camera was a birthday gift from home. He gave it to a clearly bored Officer, who had to be walked through how it even worked. Rennick remembered rolling his eyes. He was always impatient.

'Come on, whilst we're still young!'

'Young?' Geroge called as he jogged over. 'I thought Churchill dragged you out of a retirement home, Rennick?'

'By the end of this war, I'll be frog-marched into one.' The three wrapped one arm around each other's shoulder and raised their rifles with the other.

'Say Churchill!'

'Churchill!'

Click

'Africa?'

Rennick snapped back to reality. 'Yeah. We'd just captured Fort Capuzzo. What about you? I never saw you there.'

'I was never in Africa.' O'Connor leaned against the desk. 'I was in Dunkirk.'

'Oh, you poor fuck.' The pair shared a chuckle.

'What happened to the others?'

'Kenneth went to join the R.A.F,' Rennick explained. 'George and I went home at the end of it all and stayed in touch.' A pause. 'He died from a heart attack four years ago. Lucky bastard.'

'And Kenneth?'

'Haven't the foggiest.' If he had to guess, he was either dead or the one sitting in a retirement home. But, enough about that. Rennick focused his attention on O'Connor. 'Didn't agree with Ireland kicking their feet up with The Swiss and Spaniards?'

'Yep. It wasn't right. We were at war. Lives were at stake, and I had a job to do.' With a brief story to tell, O'Connor lit a cigarette. He knew Rennick wasn't a smoker. 'I was a driver. You felt so powerful driving troops across France's fields and roads, avoiding enemy fire. Younger me saw this as an adventure.' Like Rennick, a look of nostalgia washed over him. Then, the hurt look crept in his eyes. 'Until I got too cocky and sent the us into a death trap.'

The crushing pain of the jeep landing on his leg ran through his body. It was a feeling that would never leave. Some would say having a constant limp for the rest of your life was enough punishment, but for O'Connor, it was when he saw...

'Nigel? Nigel? Answer me, please. Get this jeep off me.'

'NIGEL!'

The pair fell silent. They looked at each other for some form of comfort. There was no need for clarification. War was Hell, but there were good moments. It's how you stayed sane. The toughest challenge for both men was returning to civilian life. But, here they were after thirty years. They had to be thankful for that.

Rennick broke eye contact and huffed. 'Well, let's get out of here.' No reason to dwell on the past. Rennick went to move. And he couldn't. Whenever he tried to move his head and 'arm' out of the doorway, he just lightly shook the office. He was stuck. 'One moment. Just...J...' Nope. Completely stuck. 'Can you help me?' He looked at O'Connor, who was trying with every fibre of his being to not laugh. Which lasted about five seconds. He let out a scream-laugh, leaning on his knees and sounding like a dying pterodactyl. It was the mood booster he needed.

O'Connor's laugh must be contagious because Rennick just started to laugh along. His was a hysterical cackle in comparison. Everyone on Deck heard the pair, and Muir could see what the problem was, thanks to his height, causing him to snort.

Through their laughs, O'Connor leaned against Rennick's head and helped him shuffle the arm out, which was causing the block. If he could get himself in, then he could get himself out. Once free, Rennick pulled backwards, causing O'Connor to trip onto the handrailing, but still they laughed.

When all was said and done, they began to head for the Deck.

'So, what was your tattoo?'

'That's something I'm taking to the grave, Mr. O'Connor.'

[gotham-ruaidh]

now i lay me down to sleep - a 7x05 and 7x06 story

I had thought it would be easy to sleep in the tent that night – after a few uncomfortable days on the road, preceded by my brief yet searing stint back at Ticonderoga worrying for my patients and for Jamie, not to mention the stress we’d both felt before the fort was abandoned as our well-reasoned advice fell on deaf ears.

I’d mastered the art of sleeping in a tent, with the low noises of men camped all around me, during the war. My war, to be precise – on the blood-soaked fields of France. Too quickly I’d had to put that habit to use in the months we’d spent camping with Charles Stuart, and then again not too long ago, in those terrible days of the fruitless skirmishes with the Regulators.

So I’d thought that the murmured campfire conversations, and occasional snorting of horses, and all other manner of noises would lull me to sleep this night.

Yet I lay awake. Too tired to sleep.

Mind racing.

Walter’s last breath.

Ian looking at Rachel, as she helped Denny and I bandage a man who had discharged his musket into his foot.

The shape of William’s nose and chin.

Brianna smiling.

I sat up in the bedroll, and swung out my legs from under the blankets.

Jamie’s hand found the small of my back.

Peace.

“When Bree was small and she couldn’t sleep, sometimes she’d get frustrated. So I told her to rest her eyes instead.”

“Hmm. Did that work?”

“Well, it soothed her. I convinced her that laying still with her eyes closed was more restful than not doing so.”

I heard him sit up behind me. Felt his arms wrap around my middle, and his head settle into the curve of my shoulder.

“And if she didnae like what she saw when she closed her eyes?”

I found his hands and squeezed. “I would ask her to think about something she did like.”

He smiled into my neck. “Well then. I just need to keep looking at you, Sassenach. Cannae think of a better way to fall asleep.”

I flushed with pleasure, and turned to kiss him. It was hard to see in the dark, and we fumbled a bit, laughing, and he tasted of happiness.

We broke apart at a whoop from somewhere not too far from the tent.

“Christ,” Jamie whispered. “I’ll need to have a word wi’ Morgan in the morning. Cannae have the men making such a stramash. It will just cause confusion that the Mohawk or others are attacking, and we dinna need that just now.”

“I’m sure he’ll enjoy talking to you about it.”

He didn’t say anything, and let the moment stretch. Still we held each other’s hands, not fully awake, not willing yet to sleep.

“Do you see something you don’t like, when you close your eyes?”

It was always easy to talk in the dark – even with Jamie, who knew me better than anyone had or would.

“Ye ken weel about my nightmares. But before you ask more about it – no, they’re no’ back, or at least any more than they have always come and go.” His thumb traced my silver wedding ring. “I – only – hmm. I need to ask ye something, and as I turn it over in my mind it feels verra foolish to even say out loud.”

I smiled. “Surely you don’t think I’d laugh?”

“Ye have laughed, and ye will keep laughing at me, since the first day we wed, Sassenach. That’s no’ what I keep seeing.” He paused, and I knew there would be lines forming in his brow as he thought what to say.

I gave him as long as he needed.

“Do you think any less of me, Claire, that I couldnae save you myself?”

“What on earth?” My hand found his shoulder. “What’s this?”

I felt his eyes on me. “I came for you at Fort William wi’ nothing but an empty pistol. I found you after that time wi’ the crazy priest who married Fergus and Marsali. I found you in the forest after the Browns had taken you.”

“Yes,” I said patiently. “I remember.”

“So – at Ticonderoga I relied on Ian to find you. And when you were held prisoner by the governor, on that ship in Wilmington harbor – I relied on Tom Christie.”

“Yes.”

His words came all in a rush. “I couldnae save you those times, Claire. I had to ask other men to do it for me.”

My hand shifted to cup his cheek. “Because you were being pragmatic. You’re older than you were at Fort William. You have a lot more to lose.”

“If I lose you, Claire, I lose everything. Do you no’ ken that?”

“And if in so doing you lose yourself – where does that leave me? I’d rather have a dozen men help me get back to you, than you risking yourself to do it.”

He sighed. “I felt I betrayed my vow to you.”

“Nonsense. You kept it, by enlisting others to help me. Were they not happy to do it?”

“They were.”

“Then don’t tell me that’s beside the point. I’m here, with you, because you asked for help. That’s no small thing.”

A beat.

“And don’t you go doubting yourself. Not now. You need to have a steady mind. To shoot your rifle straight.”

He turned his head, and kissed my palm. “I’m daft.”

“You are. But you knew that already, and I knew that already.”

“And yet somehow, you still love me for it.”

“Despite it.”

I leaned in for a kiss. He drew us back down into the bedroll.

“Rest wi’ me, then, until the dawn. Maybe I’ll dream of the lass and her bairns.”

I settled closer against him. “I’ll dream of you and me, back on the Ridge, in a fine new house.”

He kissed my forehead.

[captain-mj]

I plead with you, on my hands and knees, for some Selkie!Soap x Human!Ghost where Ghost meets Soap's father-

Oh hell yeah! In this au, Ghost is a changeling, I hope its okay that I kept with that

Soap was frantic, going back and forth between pacing and rambling. It was only their second day of leave and his dad asked Soap to bring his new boyfriend.

Ghost didn't want to tell him to calm down since he had Soap's coat on so instead, he just stopped him with his hands.

"Johnny, it's going to be okay."

"You're about to meet my family!"

"I've been talking to your mom for weeks." Ghost reminded him gently. "You're going to be okay."

"My sisters will be there! Both of them!" Soap said softly. "What if they don't like you? What if you don't like them?"

Ghost laughed. "Usually that's my line." He moved closer and held his hands. "You like me and I like you. That's all that matters."

Soap nodded. "My dad is..."

"I know. I know." Ghost sighed. "We'll get through it. It's just two days and after this, we can go back to our cabin."

Soap leaned into his shoulder. "I don't understand why he wants to meet you."

Simon softened and squeezed him. "It's okay, love. Promise." They were rather close to each other.

"You called me love."

"It's a good nickname for you." Simon tried not to blush, aware that he didn't have his mask.

Soap leaned forward and kissed him softly. "Mo fhíorghrá." He pushed Simon's hair back and trailed his fingers through it.

"What does that mean?"

"A devious insult. You probably don't want to know."

"You're a fucking bastard. Go finish getting packed. I'm going to ask Price to extend our leave when we're done."

"Thank God. I want to spend more time here."

Ghost grinned. "With me?"

"Nah. Wish you'd stay outside, you bawbag." Johnny teased back before pulling away to get dressed.

Ghost grabbed his things and waited for him.

The journey there was luckily quick and then they were on Soap's parents doorsteps.

Soap had managed to chew all of his fingers to the quick in anxiety.

The man that opened the door was... well, he looked almost exactly like Soap. His hair was longer though, cut in a more... traditionally male cut to Soap's mohawk. His eyes were green and he was clearly a bit older.

"Hello, sir." Ghost straightened up, glad he had his mask on. The man set him on edge and he couldn't decide if it was what Soap told him or just... the vibe around him.

Soap smiled. "Hey, dad!"

"Fergus MacTavish. So you're my sons..."

"Husband." Ghost saw his eyes go to the coat.

"I see. Come in. Your mom is in the kitchen, Johnny." Fergus made a dismissive motion and Ghost watched him shrink down just a bit before slinking off to the kitchen.

Ghost sat across from Fergus and immediately noticed someone walking right behind him.

Davina, Ghost could tell because her hair was dyed a bright purple, smiled at him. "Are you Ghost? Johnny's talked about about you before!" She was the other selkie.

"Oh? He's talked about me?" He could feel Fergus staring at him.

"Yep. Said you're a giant hardass who works him too hard." She smiled and winked. Ghost huffed.

"He's right. I'm his Lieutenant. Someone has to keep him in line."

Davina laughed. "Cup of coffee?"

"I'd kill for a tea."

Davina laughed harder. "Wow, you actually are that british. I'll see what I can rustle up. Mom keeps some usually." She left him in the room with Fergus again.

The man was still staring at him.

Simon thought about when he came home from the army for the first time. The way his mom's sleeve had lifted up just a little and he had seen his dad's handprints on her. He had dragged him outside and beat him in the street like he was a dog.

This man hadn't done anything in his sight, but already, he felt the same anger he had felt that day bubbling up. His mom had tried to pressure him into seeing his dad in his final days and he hadn't because he was sure he would take him out of the bed and finish the job. The anger was something he knew well. He dealt with it occasionally on missions.

"So Simon." Ghost grit his teeth. "How long have you had his coat?"

"A week now. Not too long. Still getting... used to it." Ghost measured his words carefully.

"I see. Treating my son well?" Fergus tilted his head, looking genuine enough. "Selkies are a bit fragile. Emotionally. I'm sure you've noticed how sad they can get."

No. Ghost hadn't. "In their eyes right? Always so sad."

"Exactly. It's best to keep them busy. So when can I be expecting him to leave the military?"

"What?"

"You're not going to let him reenlist are you? Shouldn't you keep him at home?"

Ghost stared for a minute, more than a little taken back. He was expecting cruelty like he experienced as a child. Beatings or being told you were useless. Not this. It caught him off guard.

"I want to keep him in the military. Keep him close to me."

"Makes sense. Easy access huh?" His tone was light. Normal. Like they were talking about the weather.

"I like spending time with him." Ghost answered honestly.

"If you tell him to shut up, they can't speak until you give them permission to. Comes in handy. Especially with my kids." He laughed and had sorta leaned in. Trading secrets. "You really can make them do whatever you want. As long as they can physically do it, they will. They have these instincts too. This drive to be the best for their person. Best partner. Best friend. Anything they can. Eventually, you barely have to order them."

Ghost felt bile in the back of his throat. "That simple huh?"

"Yep. Snap your fingers and he'll jump." He snapped his fingers. "Just make sure they stay busy. Can't let them find the coats, ya know?"

Ghost held Soap's coat a little closer around himself. "Right..."

Davina came back with a cup of tea for him and cup of coffee for her dad. She perched on the window seat, right behind Fergus. She glared into Ghost, her calm demeanor disappearing.

Slowly, she mouthed at him. "Watch yourself."

Oh thank god. She was cool.

He didn't pay much attention anymore, just staring blankly ahead as Davina and Fergus talked. Already, he was starting to regret this.

Soap sat next to him, almost but not quite touching him which he was thankful for. Ghost picked up that Fergus didn't talk to him with the others around. He tried not to think too much about that.

Soap's mom was lovely. She smiled at him and commented that it was nice to have someone else that doesn't drink coffee.

"I hope vanilla is okay? I don't really keep Earl Gray in stock..." She was a tiny lady, but her hair was incredibly dark for her age. It curled around her and was clearly something she took care of.

Ghost quickly shook his head. "No, vanilla is fine."

"It's his favorite but he won't admit that." Soap laughed and Ghost instinctively pulled him just a little closer. Fergus gave him a sharp look but Ghost interrupted before anyone got the chance to say anything.

"Maybe." Ghost smiled.

"Oh! Do you want to see some baby photos?" Moray, Soap's mom, said excitedly. "I never get to show his partners these!" She grabbed a book and his sister quickly crowded on Ghost's other's side. He tried not to fidget too much at all the contact.

"Mom..." Soap whined but he let her.

Moray put the book on the table. "A little hard to explain that he was born with white hair." She showed him the baby photo of tiny Soap. His eyes were almost black, like an actual seals and his hair was a pure white color like snow. As the photos changed to his toddler years, he looked perfectly human but they were now intermingled with pictures of a tiny seal pup.

''You were so small." Ghost hummed. "So you guys actually turn completely into a seal?"

"Completely." Soap smiled. "It's pretty fun. I'd have to have my coat back though."

"Never going to happen then." Ghost replied like he was told. He saw Moray flinch but one glance between them and she immediately relaxed.

As hard as he tried, Ghost couldn't imagine being this vulnerable and also this trusting. He could be puppeting Soap to act like this around his family and none of them would know.

What a disconcerting thought. He glanced at Soap.

Ghost hadn't noticed it earlier, but around his family, he could see it. This faint sadness. It was more prominent in their mom. Davina had it, though only when looking at her family.

He couldn't handle this. He needed air.

"Excuse me." Ghost pulled away and went outside, hugging the coat closer. He couldn't feel the cold, but he knew outing himself as not human wouldn't be smart. The snow piled up but he just stepped out.

Fucking hell.

He missed his mom.

Ghost jerked up, straightening his posture. Where the fuck did that come from?

He thought about her. She'd love Soap. Of course, she would though.

Mary Riley was a good woman.

What would she do?

She'd help. Somehow.

Ghost should help too.

Simon let out a breath. "Alright. I'm going to find this woman's coat if it fucking kills me."

[renee-writer]

Love Comes First Chapter 44

AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57780913

“Today, you are one!” She holds up one finger to the excited babies. They, feeding off her energy, bounce up and down in their cots.

 

Jamie, watching from the doorway, grins. Isaiah David and Hanna Rebecca see him and start to cry out, “DaDa!”

 

Claire turns and smiles at him. He walks all the way in, joining her.

 

“Amazing that you are one, guys.” He says to them.

 

“They were just born,” she says to him, “or so it seems.”

 

He chuckles. “It seems James was.”

 

“True,” she sighs out, “it goes by way to fast.”

 

“Aye, so let’s soak in this day,” he lifts up the babies, together, “right guys. It’s your birthday.”

 

They squeal. Nappies are changed and they are dressed in their birthday outfits.

 

Downstairs, their older siblings are blowing balloons up and hanging banners.

 

“I want to tell them.” Sophia whispers to James. They are placing the tablecloth on.

 

“I know. But baby, it is Isaiah and Hanna’s day.”

 

“Your right. I am just so excited.”

 

“Me too baby.” He hugs her.

 

Marsali sits, way to pregnant, to help much. Fergus stands behind her, helping Faith hang the happy birthday banner. Sitting beside her, Leah rests her hand on her bump, where Joel moves around.

 

“Hey Joel. Are you excited about the twins birthday too?”

 

Marsali smiles at her.

 

“He is.”

 

“Cool.”

 

The twins sit in the middle of the wrapping paper after opening all their presents, with the help of Leah and Peter.

 

They throw it around more interested in them, temporarily at least, then their new toys.

 

Their family watch them with joy. More pictures are taken. They already have pictures of them smashing their cakes and opening the presents.

 

“Oh.” Marsali’s utterance gets Tabby’s  attention. She sits closest to her.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“I think I am in labor.” She calmly says. Fergus hears her, turning quickly and hurrying over to her side.

 

“Baby?”

 

“I have been having pains for awhile. I just didn’t want to take attention away from the babies.”

 

Claire, noticing the stress coming from the couple and her daughter, comes over.

 

“Claire, Marsali is having contractions.” Fergus’ voice gets high. Claire is calmer.

 

“How far apart are the contractions?”

 

“Around six minutes.”

 

“Okay, let’s get the doctor called.” Fergus fumbles for his phone.

 

Faith comes over and kneels beside her. Placing her hand over her bump, she begins to pray for both the parents and Joel.

 

Over the last three months, she has focused more on her faith. That and her work in the hospital has matured her, to her parents joy.

 

Tabby and Peter take care of the twins while Jamie and Claire see to the couple, helping her through the next few contractions while the doctor instructs them.

 

They are to head directly to hospital. Fergus already has the hospital bag in the boot of the car and the car seat in the back.

 

When the excitement dies down, Sophia and James share a look. He nods.

 

“Mama and da, we are pregnant.” She announces.

 

It is a very memorable first birthday.

[torchflies]

Joining the collective excited cooing in your inbox over Scottish Mav, one-of-a-kind king in waiting. I love him so much.

I don't know if your thoughts or plans extend as far Mav test piloting? Mav alternating between actually fulfilling some of his princley duties and fucking off into the desert to play games with the laws of physics.

Can you just imagine the general reaction to the Darkstar Mach 10 flight? 'Captain Pete Mitchell breaks World land speed record, achieving Mach 10.3. The Scottish Royal family member ejected safely after experimental jet experienced a critical failure in flight'

Loving reading all your headcannons and thoughts!

Ahhhh 💜💜💜🥹 @eringeosphere thank you so much for being so sweet!!!! 😭😭😭

Actually yes!

Mav keeps the same timeline as far as TG and TGM go. 🤣 By the time TGM rolls around he’s well into his fifties and happy balancing test piloting and his royal duties. He’s still not king though, because Fergus is still kicking. He and Viper still hang out all the time with all the tact of old men 🤣

Scotland just puts up with it because Mav has two heirs of his own. 🤣 Ice is happily running two Navys (one is behind the scenes) and Slider is running four castles with an iron fist and flying commercial. (Ice doesn't die because there’s a royal decree that he isn't allowed to smoke and has to take his high blood pressure medication. Not everyone, just Tom Kazansky).

Oh you're so right about what happened with Darkstar 🤣🤣🤣 Every pub in Scotland is full of drunks singing their favorite song of Our Paddy Canae Die!

But no Scot needs to find out how close they came to losing two heirs and getting fifteen-year-old Queen Amelia. 🤣

Thank you for being so sweet and enjoying this as much as I do!!! This AU has me so excited!!!

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

Wip game questions! A Thrill of Hope and whisky convention ☺️☺️

Hello! 🥰

I told myself this last December that I would not write a holiday fic bc I didn't have the stamina or an idea, and then an idea plopped itself right into my brain 🥲 I still v much did not have the stamina, which is why nothing was posted over the holidays lol, but A Thrill of Hope is a Beside the Seaside one-shot taking place a few years beyond the current timeline. There were like two scenes that wouldn't leave me alone, so those are written but the rest will wait until this next holiday season, most likely. Here's a wee snippet:

“Ye sure she should be reading that Agatha Christie novel, Sassenach?”  Jamie’s voice was scarcely above a whisper, and Claire noticed how neither of the children in the backseat so much as twitched; she and Jamie might as well have been alone in the car. “She saw Fergus reading it and she insisted she wouldn’t get scared by it. Tried to make her wait, but she’s stubborn.” Her thumb traced over his knuckle where their hands were still laced together. “She learned that from you, I think.”  Her husband shot her a quick, incredulous look. “Me? She learned that from you.”  “Agree to disagree.”  Jamie exhaled a smile. “And what if that book does give her nightmares? She’s getting too old to be crawling into our bed.”  “Don’t say that, she’s only nine.” He arched an eyebrow at that, and she sighed, unprepared for how this conversation had poked at an open wound. “And she won’t be nine forever. Are you so ready to leave that stage behind? You won’t miss those moments with her when they’re gone?” 

The whisky convention au is a modern au where Claire is hired to plan a major whisky competition/convention, and the new Board President of the organization that hired her is a large, Scottish pain in the arse! They sort of start out as antagonistic towards each other which changes into a begrudging respect - all of this is developing over emails and zoom meetings and such, and they meet for the first time in person at the event that they've been working so closely together on planning, and of course they are staying in the same hotel for it and also, you know, whisky is involved so 👀👀

[ask me about my wips]

[hugsandchaos]

Fergus: Oh dear gods, dragons are real! Get behind me! I’ll—

Hiccup: *already petting said dragon* No thanks, I’m good.

[changingplumbob]

Pancakes Household: Chapter 9, Part 3

Battle of the century or kids playing console games...

CW: Unicorn zombie with minor carton gore

Carson: You don’t think this will be too physically taxing do you

Artemisia: Only for losers

Onyx: Don’t worry Carson, there’s no exercise required

Fergus: I dibs the green car

Onyx: Is everyone ready

Artemisia: Oh would you just press start already

Onyx: First round goes to me!

Artemisia: That’s ridiculous, you must have given me the broken controller

Carson: Or you’ve been practicing, I get to pick next track. Strawberry Fields!

Fergus: Oh no I hate that one, I always get stuck in the strawberry jam

Onyx: Just follow along behind me Fergus and you’ll see a clear path okay

Fergus: Thank you Onyx

Artemisia: I always think it’s so funny how well-mannered you are

Carson: I would have thought you’d find that annoying

Artemisia: Nope, it helps us get out of trouble

Onyx: So see here Fergus, if you go between these two flowers there’s the fast launch ramp

Fergus: And no strawberry jam sinkhole!

Artemisia: Hold on, you’re not entitled to win

Fergus: Just try and stop me Emi

Carson: Come on Artemisia, let’s wipe the track with them

Onyx: Team Pancakes!!!

Kayleigh: I like to hear them play, the house is so quiet with just Carson now

Eliza: Bob and I have been thinking of trying for another one after Fergus becomes a teen. Bob would love a daughter

Kayleigh: And how about you

Eliza: Well I’ve never loved being pregnant but a third kid would be nice

Kayleigh: Sweetie I don’t mean to sound indelicate but have you considered adoption

Eliza: Adoption? Is that legal when I can get pregnant?

Kayleigh: It’s the 21st century, just because you can have them doesn’t mean you need to. Not that I can talk, I had four

Eliza: I suppose that way I would avoid the pregnancy impacting on my work

Kayleigh: And if Bob wants a girl you can tell the agency that, but you can’t tell your uterus that

Eliza: *chuckles* Good point, I’ll think about it. Oh, would you excuse me? The markets just opened in Tomarang

Kayleigh: Go ahead, you’ll not beat me at this chess match anyway

Eliza: Thanks for helping me learn more

Kayleigh: No problem, I’ll collect my husband and get out of your hair. Night

Kayleigh: Come on Carson, time to go

Carson: Just let us finish this last race mum

Artemisia: Oh it’s finished and I’m victorious

Fergus: Thanks again for helping me Onyx, I had a lot of fun. See you for my birthday Emi?

Artemisia: Sure thing, Tuesday right

Fergus nods excitedly and the dinner party disperses.

Happy very cloudy Halloween! The Pancakes decide not to have a party since they had one last night and Bob will need to work tonight. After a quick breakfast the household splits up as everyone has their own tasks to do this morning.

Bob of course wants to get his work out in before shift. Fergus is in a patch of hyper focus with his ADHD and decides to play mad scientist in the treehouse. Eliza decides to do a dance workout since she cleaned everything yesterday and finally Onyx is set to walk Ginger again.

Eliza is dancing away when she pulls a muscle in her back.

Eliza: Ouch! Oh, maybe an adoption is a good idea, I will be a 40 soon

Thinking on this she carries on, working on her other muscles. Outside it’s hard for Onyx and Ginger to make out where they’re running but the pair do their best. Ginger isn’t sure why her dad isn’t taking her for these jogs but supposes Onyx is an alright substitute.

Onyx: I’m back home dad, Ginger is all walked

Bob: *grunts with effort* Did you tell your mother

Onyx: No, she’s busy practicing speech and I didn’t want to disturb her

Bob: Smart choice

Onyx begins their cheer routine, they still have some more solo practice to fit in. All is going well until they fall over on their face. They push up looking around but Bob is busy working his legs and hasn’t noticed. To celebrate Onyx pulls off a perfect flip!

Previous ... Next

[frasers-of-my-heart]

Wednesday 100: Notre Fils

Fergus walked into the parlor, quiet and slow (unusual for their gregarious lad) and Claire noted his eyes looked heavy. She stood and went to him, laying her wrist on his forehead, finding it clammy and far too warm. “Fergus, get yourself back to bed.”

“Non, Milady,” Fergus softly protested, “I am to accompany Milord today.”

Jamie came up behind him. “Not today, lad. Listen to yer mistress.”

“I suppose I am a bit tired…” he lilted and Jamie scooped him up. “Merci, Papa. Maman, will you check on me?”

They were his.

“Of course, darling, I’ll be up soon.”

[asta-writes-stuff-moved]

Y/N and Campbell Bain go out for the night

a/n: this is my first fic!! constructive criticism is fine but pls be nice :]

wc: 856

c/w: alcohol (only mentioned), think that's it, lmk if not tho

“Hey, Campbell,” You whisper through the dark.

“What is it?” He replies, his voice full of sleep.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Aw shit, I’m sorry Y/N, I forgot. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

“Ok,”

You fiddle with your fingers as you hear him rustling about in his room. Your attention shifts as he pops his head around the doorframe. 

“You got anything you’ll need?”

“Yeah, in my bag,” You lift it up to show him. 

“Perfect,” He flashes that wide grin of his and steps out of his room, checking around for anyone watching before grabbing your hand and pulling you to the door that leads out of the ward. He fishes in his jacket pocket for a moment before he pulls out Fergus’ card and unlocks the door.

“After you m’lady!” 

“Why thank you, kind sir!” He laughs at your attempt at a posh accent and you step out of the ward. 

-

“So where exactly are we going?” You ask as the two of you walk across the quiet hospital grounds.

“A spot I know,” He grins at you, “you’ll find out soon enough won’t ye? Quit asking!” 

The two of you walk until you reach the back of a wide building. As you inspect the building you notice flashing lights through the cracks of an exit door. 

“Fergus told me I could just tell them we know him and they’d let us in. Think we’ve gotta go around front though.”

You grab his hand as he leads you around to the front of the building. It seems fairly inconspicuous aside from the strobe lights still flashing through the cracks of the doors. 

Campbell raps his knuckles on the door and the sound echoes sharply through the quiet. It takes a minute, but eventually a man opens the door. He’s tall and big and looks scary and you shuffle behind Campbell. Campbell doesn’t seem deterred by him in the slightest. 

“Hey there, I was told to tell you I know Fergus MacKinnon.” He smiles widely at the man.

The man looks at the two of you for a second before nodding his head and stepping aside, letting you in the door. As you walk by him Campbell gives him a big grin and you give him a polite nod. 

After you’ve gone in and had a chance to take in your surroundings you notice a few things. Firstly, everyone here seems older than you. There definitely isn’t anyone else as young as you and Campbell, probably because they serve alcohol, you think as you notice a bar on one end of the room. The second thing you notice is the blaring music. It’s not the old music you’re used to hearing on the station at St. Jude’s, it’s loud and fast, distracting you from Campbell trying to get your attention.

“Hey! Y/N! You in there?” He yells over the music, tapping your forehead.

“Yeah, sorry,” You shout back at him.

“What d’ya think? Cool place, huh?”

“Yeah, I like the music.”

“I thought you would!” He seems delighted that you like it. 

“Are we allowed to be here? I think they’re serving alcohol, you know.” 

“Oh, don’t worry so much Y/N, that’s not why we’re here.” He grabs your hand, surveying the place. You follow him to a small table far to one end of the room. As you sit down he grabs his chair and pulls it over right next to yours. 

You lean into him so you don’t have to shout as much, “This is cool and all but why are we here Campbell?”

He leans down so his mouth is right next to your ear, “Fergus told me about it and I thought you’d like it. I know how much you love the music we’ve got at St. Jude’s so I thought you’d have a good time coming and listening to some new music.” 

You can feel your face heat up as you turn to look at him. He’s smiling softly down at you and you smile back. 

“Thank you.”

“Anything for ya, Y/N.” 

-

“That was really fun, thank you Campbell.” You tell him as you walk across the grounds back to St. Jude’s. 

“O’course Y/N. Just let me know if you ever wanna go again.” 

He takes your hand in his and pulls you with him as he breaks into a run. The two of you race through the grounds, taking the longest route back you know of. 

-

“Well, I guess this is where I drop ya off.” He whispers, you can hear a hint of sadness in his voice. 

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic about it, your room is five steps away.” You roll your eyes at him. 

“Yeah, well I had fun tonight. I like spending time with you.” 

You stand on your tiptoes and throw your arm around his shoulders to pull him down and you plant a kiss on his cheek. He flashes that big, bright smile of his at you one last time and you return it before heading into your room and closing the door for the night.

[the-frostiest-of-flakes]

Test Run

Fandom: rotbtd | Characters: Merida, Rapunzel, Hiccup, Jack Frost

Prompt(s): Merida, Favorite AU

Word count: 1851 | Warnings: None | Read on AO3

Summary: While giving her new gear a test run, Merida nearly dies and winds up meeting several budding heroes. Some more impressive than others.

Author's Note: I wrote this for the third week's prompts of the 2023 Big Four Fest, which were Merida and Favorite AUs. My favorite au is a very specific one by lucidorange on tumblr, and it's based around the larger superhero au. Unfortunately, the creator of the au deleted their tumblr account a while back, so everything I know about the au is thanks to the wayback machine and reblogs of the comic. (You can find part 1 here)

I tried to give the triplets more unique personalities while still staying in line with the au versions. I hope you enjoy!

---

Merida DunBroch, daughter of the wildly successful owner and CEO of DunBroch Technologies, Fergus DunBroch, was doing her homework.

Or, that’s what she was supposed to be doing.

In reality, she was perched on a flat roof thirty stories up, the lights of the city shining like stars below her.  It was beautiful, and the wind gently caressing her face only added to the serenity.  Unfortunately, it was currently being ruined by multiple voices jabbering in her ear.  Tuning back in, she found that they were still going on about features and safety and blah, blah, blah.  Pretty much everything she didn’t care about.

“—and if you notice sparks, tell us immediately and drop the—”

“If you’re done yapping,” she interrupted, grip tightening on her bow, “I’m gonna take this gear for a spin now.”

“Be careful,” buzzed one of the three nearly identical voices in her ear.  Her amazing sister-senses told her it was Hubert.  “This is just a test run — we don’t know if there are any glitches with the suit or bow.”

A second voice — Hamish — piped up, “Not that there will be any, considering we made it.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Harris broke in.

Merida rose, a wolfish grin spreading across her face as she looked to the ground below.  So, so far below.  “When have I ever needed encouragement?”

Three matching groans reached her ears, but she barely heard them over the rush of wind as she stepped over the edge—

And started free-falling.

All she could hear was the roaring of air in her ears as it whipped strands of hair out of her ponytail and stole the breath from her lungs.  Her gut was long gone, left behind on the rooftop.  The city lights pulsed brighter, getting ever closer.  To most this would be a nightmare.  But to her…to her it was exhilarating.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end.  Grasping an arrow from her quiver, she drew her bow, changing the setting to “Zipline” with a flick of her thumb.  Ah, the beauty of having genius inventor brothers.  Aiming for a nearby building, Merida fired.

And was promptly disappointed.

Yes, the arrow flew true, arching through the air with the precision only a master could give, but it did so without the intended zipline attached.  Leaving Merida still falling to her doom.

Okay, so maybe she should have checked that feature before jumping off a building.

A lump of panic rose in her throat.  “Uh, guys?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve already broken it,” came Harris’s response.

Oh, she was never going to live this down, was she?  “I, uh.  Might be about to die.”

There was silence on the other end.  All at once, her brothers’ voices came pouring over each other in crackling mayhem.

“It hasn’t even been five minutes—”

“—You are so irresponsible—”

“—More inheritance for me!”

Gritting her teeth, she was about to cut through their chatter when something soft and golden wrapped itself around her waist and promptly yanked her to the side.  She was no longer falling, but being swung like a pendulum.  Grabbing at the fabric that led away from her waist into the dark of the night, she realized it wasn’t fabric at all.  It was thousands of strands of golden hair.

What in the bloody hell…?

A moment later she was dropped — surprisingly gently — onto another roof, much lower than the one she had originally been on.  The hair loosened and fell away, disappearing in a flash.

“I don’t know what happened,” said a voice from the shadows, “or what you’re going through, but killing yourself isn’t the answer.”

Merida sprung to her feet, narrowed eyes scanning her surroundings.  It seemed to be the roof of an apartment building, with a box-like entrance to a stairwell in one corner.  And yet, no sign of whoever had— wait, there!  There, in the shadows of the entrance, was a girl, parts of her golden hair somehow still managing to gleam in the dark, giving away her position.

Her hair…

Calling it long would have been an understatement.  “Long” gave the impression that the hair went down to her waist, maybe a little ways past.  But the mass of yellow didn’t stop there.  It went to her feet, and then continued off, spilling over the edge of the building like a waterfall of spun gold.

“Are you okay?” The girl asked again, her voice just as soft as her hair had been.

“‘m fine.  And I wasn’t trying to kill myself.“

The girl stepped out of the shadows, confusion making furrows in her brow.  They looked out of place, and Merida had the sudden urge to smooth them out.  “Then what were you doing?”

“Testing out my gear.”  She motioned to herself and the bow that was still in her hand.

The girl’s green eyes lit up with understanding.  “Oh!  You’re like me then!”

“Like you?”

“Yeah, you know.  Superhero, vigilante, whatever you want to call it.”  She flashed a grin, bouncing on the balls of her feet.  “This is so cool!  I’ve been working alone for so long — well, not really alone, I mean I’m technically working alongside the police but that’s nothing like having an actual partner — not that you’re going to be my partner, I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Whoa, slow your horses!”  Everything was suddenly falling into place, from the freaky hair to the large purple crown perched on the girl’s head.  “You’re Swift, aren’t you?  The vigilante people are claiming is running around?”

The girl — Swift — nodded.  “Yes, that’s me.”

“I thought you were an urban legend!”

“Nope, I’m real.”  The smile on her face grew ever wider.  “And so are you!  Ohhh, this is so cool!”

Despite herself, Merida could feel one of her eyebrows raising.  This was…not how she had expected her first meeting with a vigilante to go.  Granted, she had never really thought about it before, but Swift had a strangely innocent demeanor about her.  She wasn’t remotely hardened or threatening.

Three loud beeps sounded from Swift’s pocket.  She withdrew what looked to be a burner phone and grimaced at whatever was displayed on the screen.  “Sorry, I gotta go.  There’s a fire downtown and a…dragon?”  She squinted at the screen.  “I think that’s a typo.”

Merida perked up.  A fire and possibly also a dragon?  That would be a perfect test run for the gear!  Never mind the fact that her original test run had almost ended in her own demise.  “Mind if I come with you?”

The look on Swift’s face could only be described as ecstatic.  “Of course!  But, uh…since you’re having some issues with your equipment, would you like me to carry you?  It’ll be faster that way.”

Well, she certainly didn’t want to die or get left behind.  “Sure.”

Golden hair came whipping up and around her waist, and a second later she was swinging through the air again.  It took all her willpower to suppress a scream.  From the way the city was whizzing past below, she had been right to agree to Swift’s offer.  She would have been left in the dust long ago otherwise.

Soon the sound of sirens and the sight of orange light licking the night sky reached her senses.  As well as…Snow?

A moment later the two of them were safe on the ground outside a burning apartment building, above which was a dark cloud.  From the cloud fell a flurry of flakes, killing the fire slowly but surely.

Swift frowned.  “That’s…weird.  It’s the middle of September.”

Merida’s comm piece crackled to life.  “So…are you still there?”  Came Hamish’s voice.  “I need to know if I won the bet or not.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Yes, I’m here.”  At Swift’s quizzical look, she gestured to her ear.  “‘m talking to my brothers, sorry.”

“Dang it.  Wait, are you with someone?”

“Just another hero I met.  Turns out that vigilante, Swift, is real.”  Merida followed said hero as she ran towards the entrance.  “And now we’re gonna stop a—” she broke off at the sound of shattering glass.

The two girls skidded to a halt as a large black bundle landed in front of them.  It was metallic, and as it slowly uncurled itself they realized what it was.

It was a metal dragon.

The craftsmanship was astounding.  From the textured metal and leather to the glowing green lights that constituted eyes.  There was an air of intelligence in them, making Merida second-guess whether it was really insentient or not.

The reason for its previous ball-like state became evident as well.  Clutched between its paws — talons? — was a child.  Covered in ash and smoke, Merida could barely make out where the kid’s dark skin ended and the gray smudges began.

“That’s the last of them!” Called a voice from above.  A moment later a brown-haired teenage boy dressed in black and green landed a little ways away, not noticing the two heroines.

All at once, the fire went out.  Instead of flickering flames, the building was now covered in layers of frost and ice.

Merida gawked at the now blue-tinted structure.  Just how many super-powered people are running around in this city?!

Swift was helping the dragon move the poor girl to a safe spot for when the paramedics would arrive, acting as if this kind of thing happened every day.  And hey, maybe it did.  Before Merida could decide what to do to help, another boy landed next to the first, this one seeming to float down with effortless ease.  His blue eyes were locked on her as he pulled down his hood, revealing a shock of white hair.

He grinned.  “Hey, look at that!  We’ve got an audience.”

The Brunet turned, finally noticing her.  He flinched, shooting a glare at his companion.  “Jack!  You said we wouldn’t be noticed!”

“Actually, I said we wouldn’t get in the papers.  Big difference.”  He was in front of her in a flash, lifting off of the ground like a leaf on a breeze.  “That’s some outfit you got there.  Who are you?”

Merida pursed her lips.  She certainly wasn’t giving this weirdo her name.  If she was going to be a vigilante like Swift, she’d need an alias.  “Atlas,” she finally answered.  “And what are you two supposed to be?  Dragon Boy and Frosty the Snowman?”

The brunet made a noise akin to a broken squeaky toy.  Jack only smiled wider.  “Close.  The name’s Frost.  And you can call my sidekick whatever you like.”

 “I am not your sidekick!”

Merida sighed internally.  These two yahoos were obviously just playing around — although the metal dragon was pretty impressive.  

“Well, aren’t you Miss Popular,” Harris’s voice rang in her ear.  “Just how many people have you met tonight?”

She had forgotten her comm was on during that whole exchange.  Great.  She turned away from Frost and his sidekick/partner/friend and whispered through clenched teeth, “Shush.  I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.  I promise.”

“You better.  We’re already making popcorn.”

[roleplayrequester]

Does anyone 18 or older (Minors DNI) still Rp Ducktales? Im more of a literate Rper but adapt to any style really! I actually want to muse Fergus Mcduck, I'd also like to muse other Mcduck clan folks! Fergus is just a special interest XD and while I haven't watched the 2017 show itself in some time, I'd like to get back into it! I don't ship any of the children which is a main rule. As an adult, that makes me extremely uncomfortable! And while I ordinarily love oc’s, id rather this rp have more focus on any canon, only because I am unfamiliar with rping this and have been for many years. I'm totally okay with giving characters with less canon lore backstory though, which is sort of why I love Fergus!

I’m okay with heavier themes as to my recollection both comic continuities and show had some heavy theme behind it! I have no triggers as long as there's no minor x adult sort of stuff.

I'd prefer it if only those interested interacted! And id prefer it if I was dmed here first or if you placed a comment to verbally express interest 😅 I typically rp through discord as its less stressful then tumblr

[steam-beasts]

Oh Sheep!

December had rolled around on Sodor, and the snow was at its strongest. On the Arlesdale Railway, Diesel Junior – or "DJ" as he liked to be called – was resting in the diesel sheds at Arlesburgh West. It was early morning, but the schedules were a lot more relaxed than how they were during the autumn rush.

DJ was sitting at the very back of the shed, fast asleep and trying to keep his radiator warm. Just then, the doors slowly swung open, the chilly air sweeping in. DJ's face at the cold and opened his eyes to see Mr Fergus Duncan walking towards him.

"Good morning, DJ. Apologies for waking you" He said. DJ yawned "It's alright, Mr Duncan. Do...Do you need me to do something?" He asked tiredly. Mr Duncan hummed softly in agreement "Yes, I need you to go to Arlesdale Green to collect a left behind ballast cart. Rex forgot to bring it before going to sleep" the Small Controller explained.

DJ raised an eyebrow "Not that I'm refusing to do it, Mr Duncan. But can't one of the Blister twins do that? Or...Frank?"

Mr Duncan sighed "The Blister twins are off doing a passenger run, and Frank is away taking wool bales to market" he replied with a shrug.

"Oh, well...ok. I'll go"

Mr Duncan gently smiled, giving DJ's roof a pat "Atta boy. Off you go!" DJ lightly smiled back and watched as the Small Controller turned heel and left the shed.

Eventually, the little diesel soon set off out of the sheds and into the cold himself, wincing at the bright light after being shrouded in the dark shed.

Snow had begun to fall by the time DJ reached the Arlesburgh bridge street. He glanced at the upcoming platform to see a couple of workers shoveling away snow, and a middle aged lady. This was the Stationmaster, seemingly wanting to talk to him as she waited on the platform. DJ frowned.

"Oh no, not her!" The little diesel groaned quietly "She's always pestering me about something small and unimportant..."

He was proved to be correct as the Stationmaster took out a red flag waved him down. DJ knew he shouldn't be disrespectful despite his annoyance from her, so he slowed to a stop with a fake grin on his face, plus, she had a red flag so it was probably important... this time "Is something the matter, Mrs Stationmaster?" He asked sweetly ."Yes, you don't happen to be going towards the Marthwaite Woodland area, do you?"

"Yeah, I'm collecting a stray ballast truck down at the green. Is something wrong?" He replied nonchalantly. The Stationmaster scratched her head "Well, due to a shortage of sand, the tracks beyond the Ffarqhuarr road don't have any grit, so best be careful" she warned. DJ honked his horn in acknowledgement and continued on down the line. Once she couldn't see his face, DJ rolled his eyes "Pah, 'be careful' she said. Nonsense, the rails can't be slippy! I haven't slipped on them, neither of the twins have slipped, and neither has Frank. All that comes out of her mouth is a bunch of malarkey!" He scoffed. As he said this, a few cars on the road nearby were slipping and swerving, not dangerously of course.

By the time DJ reached the Ffarqhuarr road, the snow fall was getting heavier, and more like a blizzard. DJ had to squint a little as Farmer Willie came dawdling by with a cart packed with sheep. Willie noticed DJ and came to a brief stop "Hullo' there, DJ! You alright?"

DJ gazed up at Willie and smiled "I'm F-Fine, Farmer Willie. I'm just going up to collect a ballast truck!"

Willie hummed and nodded "Ah, ok..." he said before glancing over at his sheep. Some were asleep, some were not and simply sat in the cart...not all of them were accounted for. He then heard DJ gasp "Are those sheep?!"

Willie shook out of his small daydream "Oh, uh– yes! My boss wants me to take these little guys to the barn for winter!"

A sheep then looked over at DJ and bleated, making the diesel "Aww! Hi there!" He cooed. Farmer Willie just stared at the sheep for a solid minute before realising something "Oh yeah, uh...DJ? If you see a sheep on it's own somewhere, let me know please. It, uh... got out. It has a little bell around its neck and... it's not here..." He trailed off, staring into space.

DJ wasn't listening, he was more focused on the sheep "Look at your little faces...what were you saying, Farmer Willie?"

Farmer Willie shook his head again and scratched his head, haven partially forgotten about what he was talking about "Huh? O-Oh, erm...look out for sheep! Oh crumbs, I better get going" He muttered before driving off. DJ honked goodbye to the farmer and set off once more once the gates reopened.

DJ chuckled to himself "Hehe, sheep..."

____________________________________________

The Marthwaite Woods were littered with trees and bushes. The bare tree branches had icicles dangling off of them. The bushes were piled on with snow and the rails were all icy and slippery, but DJ didn't know this yet.

DJ honked his horn and took his time to look at his surroundings "Wow, the forest looks so mysterious during winter..." he commented to himself.

He then looked forward and remembered that Arlesdale Green was a few miles ahead. He smirked confidently and went faster up the steep track "Nearly there, nearly there" He panted eagerly.

However, the little baby diesel had to come to a stop as up ahead, a lone sheep stood on the line, using its nose and hoof to dig at the snow – presumably in search for grass. DJ skidded to a halt, clenching his teeth as his wheels slipped on the rails. He was still moving (at a more slower pace now), and was getting much closer to the sheep.

DJ frantically tried calling out to the sheep and honking "Out of the way! Out of the way!". The sheep just looked up and glanced at him with vacant eyes. DJ shut his eyes tight as he couldn't stop.

Why oh why didn't he listen to the Stationmaster?!

The sheep was unfazed as the engine ahead was skidding on icy rails towards it's direction.

Just then....

BUMP!

"Baa!"

DJ gasped from feeling the bump and whimpered, fearing what he may have very likely done. Cautiously, he opened one eye to survey the damage he had done, only to see a white furry face in his vision, lazily munching on a mouthful of grass. He then opened both eyes and sure enough, he wasn't dreaming – the sheep was okay. Thank goodness.

"Dizzy diesels...that was close" He sighed with relief. He kinda forgot he's not a big monsterous engine like his big brother, or else the sheep would most certainly become wooly paste.

The sheep bleated and sniffed at DJ, its ear twitching. DJ felt his (currently) non-existent heart melt as the sheep sniffed at him.

"Ooh, sorry about that, sheep. The rails are all icy! What are you doing out here anyway? Shouldn't you be..." he then gasped, thinking back to what Farmer Willie said.

"Oh! You're the sheep that got away!" He exclaimed. The sheep bleated and went back to chewing the little patch of grass it dug up. DJ paid no mind.

"Well, come on! We gotta get you home, and collect the ballast!"

The sheep didn't move, it paid no attention to DJ whatsoever.

A few minutes went by, and DJ huffed "Come on! Get going!"

The sheep remained on the line. DJ loved the sheep, don't get him wrong – but it won't MOVE for him! DJ thought decisively, then honked at the sheep. The sheep looked over at him, but went back to eating soon after.

DJ groaned "Oh I don't have all day!"

The sheep bleated and turned to face him, its ears flicking. This sheep was stubborn, stubborn like a troublesome truck. Maybe that's why they both look alike?

A good 20 minutes passed by, you'd think that the sheep would've moved off the line by now, NOPE! It was still there, but sitting down now.

"Pleeeaaase! Move...please, sheep?: DJ begged, but no avail.

Suddenly, an ear-piercing shriek ripped through the air, alerting both DJ and the sheep. The sheep bleated fearfully and looked around frantically. DJ gulped, doing the same thing.

"Hehe...i-its alright, sheep. I'm sure it's just a..."

An echoey roar was then heard somewhere in the distance as well as crunching snow, increasing DJ's worries "B-BEAR!" He yelled fearfully. He shut his eyes tightly like he did when slipping on the rails.

The sounds of crunching snow got closer and more clearer. DJ only feared the worst...until he heard the voice of a very tired Rex.

"Are you alright there, DJ?"

DJ's eyes shot open and he looked to the side to see Rex in his beast form, gazing at him softly with very tired eyes. The baby diesel's jaw dropped upon seeing him "R-Rex?! But... you're supposed to be hibernating!"

Rex chuckled "Well, I can't hibernate if I keep hearing you honk to your heart's delight. Remember, my hearing's a LOT more sensitive and sharper than it used to be..."

"Oh..." DJ blushed in embarrassment "...sorry. I didn't mean to"

"It's ok, kiddo. No hard feelings..." Rex assured him "...now that we have that cleared up, you appear to be in one baa-ad situation" the miniature engine teased, pointing at the sheep.

DJ sighed "Yep...I think its one of Farmer Willie's. He said something about one of them escaping"

"Escaping, eh? Lots of livestock escape here all the time. They should really improve the fences but then again...me, Bert and Mike can just ram through them" He chuckled. Rex then turned to face the sheep.

He made a little chittering noise at the sheep, leaning forward. The sheep turned to Rex with interest and bleated, walking off the track at last. DJ watched in amazement as Rex continued the chittering sound, leading the sheep into the foliage. It kinda reminded him of that evil snake from The Jungle Book, except Rex isn't evil of course!

"Wow..." he whispered. DJ soon resumed to his task; collect the ballast.

He oiled through the forest, much more carefully that time.

____________________________________________

DJ had managed to make it to the Green and was making his way back to Arlesburgh West. Along the way, he saw Rex trotting along the tracks, still looking rather sleepy. He honked "hello" to the older engine, who whistled back "Did you get the sheep home, Rex?"

"Of course! It's not like I ate it, hehe!" Rex chuffed cheekily.

"Yeah, anyway...how did you hear me all the way from the sheds in the first place?" The miniature 08 diesel asked, feeling rather curious.

"I wasn't sleepin' at the sheds, I was sleepin' in a nearby cave around here! That's how I heard you!" He laughed tiredly. DJ giggled as well, then looked over at the ballast truck "Hey, Rex? Did you know you forgot to bring a ballast truck back to the station?"

Rex frowned and raised an eyebrow. He then glanced at the truck behind the small diesel and gasped with understanding "Oh! Fire and smoke, I forgot about that one!" He groaned.

"It's alright, Rex. It's easy to forget things" DJ assured him. The small green engine smiled warmly, then walked in front of the diesel, blocking his way.

"Rex?"

Rex said nothing and gave DJ's forehead a lick, probably his own way of 'kissing' him goodnight. DJ's eyes went wide, but he grinned nonetheless as Rex chirped happily before setting off into the woods "Have a good hibernation, Rex!" He called out.

As soon as Rex left, DJ oiled away with the ballast truck. Back to Arlesburgh West he goes.

Until Spring...

[lestatslestits]

I’m late for Day 5 of TOTA Takeover, but I couldn’t let the week end without writing a little something from Campbell’s perspective.

Personally, I really struggle to believe that Campbell’s “fake” manic episode didn’t have some truth behind it, which is the basis for this ficlet.

And since this piece references Campbell’s joke just before he is sedated, I think it deserves to be preserved for posterity as it’s quite hard to hear in the show. The full joke, from the play:

There’s this loony! Walks into a pub with his dog and the barman says; “Hey! Nae dogs in here, pal!” But, the loony tells him it’s a talking dog and says, “Look, if I can make him answer three questions, can he stay?” The barman says, “Right, let’s see then.”

So the loony says to the dog, “What is the texture of sandpaper?” And the dog says “Rough!” And then the guy asks, “Who was Scotland’s goalkeeper in the 1978 World Cup?” and the dog says, “Rough!” And then, “Who was the greatest American baseball player of all time?” and the dog says, “Ruth!”

The barman’s definitely not impressed! He grabs the loony by the collar and throws him into the street! He grabs the dog by the collar and throws him into the street!

And as they’re lying in the gutter the wee dog looks up with tears in his eyes and says, “diMaggio?”

I’m going to try to get one more thing posted for Day 6 (although it may be a day or so late), but in the meantime, I hope you enjoy this!

This is the first time in the last several days that Campbell Bain has felt more or less himself, not trapped under a heavy blanket of medicinal fog. He can tell Fergus, doing vigil by his bedside, has been holding onto the question for a while, waiting for this moment, when he finally asks, “So why did you lie?”

“I didn’t lie!” He yelps indignantly; crossing his arms over his chest. “About what?”

Fergus snorts. “So McKenna came to the idea you were ‘acting’ on his own?”

Oh. That.

“Well, aye, I told him that, but it was no a lie.”

“No?” He can tell by the tone that he’s on the receiving end of his friend’s judgment. And while it’s not unkind, he doesn’t like it.

“I had to do something, didn’t I? I couldnae go to Perth.” He had been to Perth on holiday throughout his childhood and hated every second of each trip. His aunt thought good children were quiet and cheerful, and he had never managed to be more than one of those things at a time. “You know I couldnae go to Perth.”

“And I know you’re not a good enough actor for all of that,” Fergus says with a trace of a smile on his face.

“That’s no very nice,” he says crossly. It’s true, maybe, but not very nice. Then, because he can’t help himself, “When did you realize?”

Fergus considers. “I knew something was coming when your da left,” he says after a moment. Wouldn’t have let you do the show, if it was up to me.”

“Traitor,” Campbell says, although it’s primarily in jest.

“But mostly, you don’t like heights. Always telling me I’ll fall, when I’m escaping. Didn’t think you’d have opened that window if you didn’t think, just for a minute, that you might fly.”

He feels suddenly exposed, far too visible. Shifting under his blanket, he pulls his knees to his chest. “Aye.”

“So then why try to cover it up to McKenna?”

Because he needs it to be an act. Not Eddie, him. Because he had thought the drugs were finally working. Because he doesn’t know how to admit that he’s afraid of who he would have become in Perth, that he’s safe within these walls. Because he thought he was better. Because he needs to be better. Because he needs someone, anyone, to believe that he isn’t forever balancing on a knife’s edge, hanging on for dear life to anything that makes him feel a bit more in control.

But he can’t find words for any of that. So he says the closest thing he can think of.

“Because sometimes you just have to look someone in the eye and tell them the truth that should be, instead of the truth that is.”

That’s not bad, he thinks. Maybe he’ll use that again some day.

Fergus seems less impressed, but he doesn’t push. He sits in Fergus-typical silence for a bit, then says, “You know, the joke about the dog is terrible.”

“I know,” Campbell says.