#at least that's how it was for me and James

[wishchip106]

he’s gaming

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Everything is Blue

Barty Crouch Jr x FWB!Potter!Reader

AN: Are we really surprised? They are all I think about.

Summary: As things escalate with Barty he draws a line in the sand.

CW: Not proof read wrote this on my lunch break sorry yall :(, oxic!Mean!Barty, Toxic!Mean!Reader, Cussing, sexual themes and behaviors, Hair Pulling, rough handling, angsty, hurt no comfort, everyone's the bad guy, Remus being dragged into it (because I'm predictable), {If I'm missing anything please let me know}

WC: 4.9k

The door to Barty’s dorm scraped open with its usual obnoxious grind, the result of a half-hearted transfiguration after a particularly chaotic night. It was too big for the frame, but no one cared enough to fix it. Least of all Barty.

He tossed his satchel to the floor as he stepped inside, a cigarette already between his fingers. The other boys in the room froze for half a second before scattering like startled mice, clearly unwilling to stick around now that they’d heard your voice trailing in behind him.

“I just wish you wouldn’t talk about Remus like that,” You huffed, brushing past the discarded bag without a second glance. There was a sharpness to your tone, even as you moved to sit on Barty’s unmade bed. Arms crossed, you looked every bit the picture of stubborn indignation. “He’s a sweetheart if you’d give him a chance.”

Barty let out a low chuckle, crouching to strike a match against the ruined floorboards. He lit the cigarette with ease, shaking out the flame before tossing the spent match to the carpet and grinding it under his heel. “Hate to break it to you, treasure, but your dear Lupin’s just as bad as the rest of them. Just like your jock of a brother.”

You scoffed, a bitter sound that came with a roll of your eyes. “Jock? Oh, please. And you’re not? Beater.”

He barked out a laugh, straightening as he took a drag. “Touché,” He chuckled, exhaling smoke through the corner of his mouth. “But no need to get your claws out, pretty thing.”

“Don’t call me that,” You snapped, though there was no real heat behind it. You shifted, ready to get up, but Barty stepped closer, his grin growing sharper. Before you could fully stand, his hand pressed firmly against your shoulder, easing you back down.

“Not so fast.” He murmured, cigarette dangling between his teeth. His free hand brushed through your hair, a casual, practiced move that sent a shiver down your spine despite yourself. “All I’m saying, doll, is your precious Remus isn’t as innocent as you think.”

Your jaw clenched, and you glared up at him, determined not to let him see how easily he got under your skin. But it was impossible to ignore the way his touch lingered, the quiet dominance in the way he stood over you.

It was a cliche if anything; James Potter’s prim, polished sister sneaking off with the resident Ravenclaw bad boy. But whatever this was, it wasn’t romance. Not even close. It was something raw and messy, simmering with tension, much less control. And no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself otherwise, you didn’t hate it.

Suddenly, his grip on your hair tightened at the roots, the sharp tug forcing your head back and drawing a startled gasp from your lips. “Oh, but he does love putting on a show for you, doesn’t he?” Barty’s voice was low, taunting, his words dripping with mockery as he loomed over you.

The sting at your scalp sent a flush of heat coursing through you; equal parts anger and something more complicated. His gaze flicked to your neck, lingering on the faint marks still visible beneath the clumsy glamour spell you’d used to cover his handiwork. His lips curved into a smirk, satisfaction radiating from him as if he’d already won some unspoken battle.

“You’re so predictable,” He cooed, tilting his head as if examining a puzzle only he could solve. His grip loosened slightly, just enough to let his fingers glide through your hair, but the dominance in his posture didn’t waver. “Tell me, doll face, how long are you going to keep pretending this doesn’t amuse you?”

You swallowed hard, your pride demanding that you glare back at him with every ounce of defiance you could muster. But beneath the tension, you both knew the truth- you were caught in his game, no matter how much you hated the rules.

Barty’s grip slackened, his fingers moving from your hair to cradle the curve of your jaw, but the smug glint in his eyes remained. His cigarette hung precariously from his lips, the smoke curling between you in a way that made the air feel heavier. He tipped your face up, tilting his head as he studied you, his smirk growing sharper when you refused to look away.

“Still playing the good girl, huh?” He chuckled, voice low and mocking as his thumb traced the edge of your cheekbone. “It’s cute, really. But I've seen too much of you to fall for it. You want this.”

“Shut up, Barty.” You snapped, the defiance in your tone wavering just enough to make him laugh- a deep, infuriating sound that made your stomach churn. He took the cigarette from his lips, flicking the ash carelessly onto the floor before tossing it into a forgotten corner of the room.

“Make me.” He challenged.

Before you could overthink it, your hands shot up, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down to crash his lips against yours. The kiss was rough, almost frantic, and any pretense of control he had disappeared the moment your nails dragged down his chest. His hands gripped your waist, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise as he pulled you closer, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made your breath hitch.

The kiss grew heated, messy, both of you lost in the intensity that always seemed to ignite when you were near each other. Barty's hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t get enough. For a moment, you forgot where you were, forgot the smugness that usually dripped from his every word. It was all consuming, fire and chaos in equal measure.

But then his lips trailed to the corner of your mouth, brushing there as he murmured against your skin. “Tell me, doll face, does Lupin get you like this? Or are you saving all the fun just for me?”

The words were like a slap. You shoved at his chest, hard enough to break the kiss, your eyes blazing with anger. “Are you serious right now? Merlin, Barty, you’re insufferable!”

He stumbled back a step, laughing as he ran a hand through his hair, clearly unbothered by your sudden shift. “What? Too close to home?” He taunted, his smirk sharp and infuriating. “Or are you upset because you know I’m right?”

You glared at him, your chest heaving as you tried to rein in your temper. “Right about what? You don’t know a damn thing about me, or about Remus!”

“Oh, I know plenty,” He shot back, his voice dropping to something dark, something mocking. He stepped closer again, his presence overwhelming. “I know you like the bad boys more than you’d ever admit. Your precious Lupin? He’s got that little edge you love, doesn’t he? But me-” He grinned, shameless and cocky, as his hand reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m the one who gives you this rush, doll. I see it every time you look at me.”

“Shut up,” You snapped, your voice trembling with anger. “You’re so full of yourself, Barty.”

“Am I?” He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he studied you. “Then why are you still here, hmm? Why not run back to your safe little Gryffindor bubble if I’m so insufferable?”

You opened your mouth to fire back, but nothing came. He was right- damn him, he was right and he knew it. The realization made your skin burn, and the frustration bubbled over.

“Because I hate you,” You spat, though the words sounded hollow, even to your own ears.

Barty’s grin widened, and his hand trailed down your arm, his touch infuriatingly light. “Oh, doll, we both know that’s not true,” He murmured. “You might hate that you want me, but you don’t hate me.”

You clenched your jaw, every muscle in your body screaming at you to storm out of the room. But his hand slid to your hip, grounding you, pulling you back into his orbit. You hated the way his presence made you feel- like you were caught in a web you couldn’t escape.

“Why are you like this?” You hissed, your voice cracking slightly as you met his gaze.

His expression softened for just a moment, the teasing edge fading as he studied you. “Because it’s you,” He said simply, his voice quiet but no less intense. “And because I know you can take it.”

That quiet admission threw you off, and for a second, you faltered. He took the opportunity to lean in again, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a kiss. “Go on, doll face,” He murmured. “Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t. And before you could stop yourself, you were pulling him back to you, your anger bleeding into something just as fiery but far more dangerous.

Barty’s laugh rumbled against your lips, low and triumphant, his hands roamed your back, his touch both grounding and maddening. The kiss deepened again, the tension between you still sharp but now laced with something rawer.

But the moment was far from stable. Barty was never one to let things settle; it wasn’t in his nature. Even now, as his lips pressed against yours with an intensity that should have silenced his need for words, he pulled back just enough to murmur, “You’re addictive, you know that? Bet it drives Lupin mad.”

The mention of Remus again broke whatever fragile truce the kiss had created. Your fingers, which had been gripping the fabric of his shirt, pushed him back with force, your glare sharp enough to cut. “You can’t just keep bringing him up like that, Barty!”

“What, does it hit a nerve?” He shot back, his smirk creeping back into place as he took a step closer. He was relentless, infuriating, the kind of person who thrived on lighting matches just to watch the fire burn. “Or maybe it’s because you don’t want to admit I’m in your head more than he ever will be.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” You snapped, your voice trembling with anger. “You’re nothing but a distraction, a-”

“Go on.” He interrupted, his voice low, his eyes gleaming with something almost dangerous. “Say it. A mistake? A regret? Is that why you keep coming back, doll? To fix it, or just to lose yourself in it?”

His words hit too close, cutting through your defenses in a way that made your chest tighten. You hated how easily he could read you, how effortlessly he picked apart the walls you tried so hard to keep in place. But you refused to let him win, refused to let him see how much his words affected you. You hated him.

“Maybe I’m here because I pity you.” You hissed coldly, lifting your chin in defiance. “Isn’t that why everyone keeps you around, Barty? Out of pity?”

For a moment, his smirk faltered, the sharpness in his eyes flickering into something unreadable. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that infuriating grin as he stepped even closer, his hands gripping your hips with a possessive force. “Careful, doll.” He mumbled, his voice soft but laced with warning. “You might just hurt my feelings.”

You rolled your eyes, but your breath hitched as his fingers slid up your sides, his touch tight with nerve. “You don’t have feelings, remember?” You shot back, but the bite in your words was weakened by the way your body reacted to his closeness.

“Maybe not,” He admitted with a low chuckle, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “But you seem to like me anyway. Guess we both have our vices.”

Before you could respond, his lips found yours again, silencing whatever retort you had ready. The kiss was more intense this time, fueled by the anger and frustration that always seemed to simmer between you. His hands tangled in your hair, his body pressing against yours in a way that made it impossible to think clearly.

It was a cycle, a maddening, relentless cycle. Fight, kiss, argue, repeat. You knew it was toxic, knew it couldn’t lead anywhere good. But in that moment, with Barty’s lips on yours and his hands holding you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

As the kiss deepened, the anger began to ebb away, replaced by a heat that you both refused to name. Barty’s hands tightened in your hair, his lips moving with an almost desperate energy that mirrored your own. But beneath the passion, there was something lingering, something raw that you couldn’t quite place.

And then he did it again.

“Bet he wished he could touch you like this,” Barty murmured against your lips, his voice low and taunting. His words sent a shiver through you- not from the tease, but from the edge in his tone. “Your precious Remus. Always so bloody polite, isn’t he?”

You froze, your hands stilling against his chest as the realization began to settle like a weight in your stomach. His words weren’t just meant to provoke you; there was something behind them, something that bordered on venom.

Pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, you searched his face for a hint of the usual smugness that accompanied his taunts. But instead, you found something different; something sharp and defensive, hidden beneath the surface. “Why do you keep bringing him up?” You asked quietly, your voice steadier than you expected.

Barty’s smirk faltered, just for a fraction of a second, before he masked it with a scoff. “What, can’t handle the truth?” He shot back, his tone casual, but his grip on your hips betrayed him. It was firmer now, certainly possessive.

You narrowed your eyes, the pieces clicking into place. “This isn’t about Remus, is it?” You whispered, your voice softening slightly. “This is about you.”

Barty’s expression hardened, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t flatter yourself,” the edge in his tone wavered. “I just think it’s funny. You play the good girl for him, but you come running to me when you want to feel something real.”

“That’s not it, and you know it.” You hissed, your words cutting through his defenses. “You’re jealous.”

The word hung in the air between you, heavy and undeniable. Barty’s jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with something that looked a lot like anger- but you could see through it now. It wasn’t anger. It was insecurity.

“You think I care about what some bleeding-heart Gryffindor thinks?” He sneered, but his voice cracked slightly, giving him away.

“I think you do,” You said, your voice steady now. “You hate that he’s not like you. That he doesn’t play games, that he’s kind. He's real. And you hate that I see that in him.”

Barty’s grip on you tightened, surely bruising, his breath hitching as you spoke. “Don’t.” He warned, but it was too late. You’d already struck a nerve.

“You’re scared.” You continued, your gaze locked with his. “Scared that he’s better than you. That maybe- he’s what I deserve.”

For a moment, you thought he might push you away, his usual bravado crumbling under the weight of your words. But instead, he surged forward, his lips crashing against yours with a ferocity that stole your breath. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a fight, a desperate attempt to reclaim control, to prove something to both of you.

When Barty finally pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his forehead resting against yours. But the vulnerability that had flickered in his expression for a split second was gone, replaced with sharp, cutting arrogance. His grip on your waist was still firm, bordering on bruising, as if he were daring you to push him away again.

“You think he’s better than me, don’t you?” Barty murmured, his voice low but laced with venom. “Remus bloody Lupin- he’s exactly the kind of boy your perfect family wants for you, isn’t he? Polite, patient, so painfully good.” His lips curled into a sneer, the mockery in his tone unmistakable. “Bet he’d even ask for daddy’s permission to kiss you.”

You flinched, your jaw tightening as the words hit their mark. “Don’t bring my family into this,” You hissed, your hands pushing against his chest, but he didn’t budge.

“Why not?” Barty pressed, his eyes gleaming with something almost wild. “This is what it’s all about, isn’t it? You sneaking around with me because I’m the opposite of what they want. Because I’m the dirty little secret you can’t bring home.”

“That’s not true.” You snapped, though your voice lacked conviction. Deep down, you hated that he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“No?” Barty’s smirk widened, his hands sliding up your sides with infuriating ease. “Face it, doll, Lupin’s everything they’ve trained you to want. He’s safe. Predictable. Boring.” He leaned closer, if he only knew- his lips brushing against your ear as his voice dropped to a whisper. “But that’s not what you want, is it?”

You turned your head sharply, forcing him to meet your glare. “You don’t know what I want.”

“Oh, I do,” He murmured, his thumb brushing against your jaw in a way that made your stomach churn. “You want the thrill. The danger. Someone who doesn’t care what James Potter or the rest of your Gryffindor crew thinks.”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore how his words stung. “You think this is about rebellion?” Uou shot back, your voice trembling with both anger and frustration. “That I’m with you because I want to piss off my family?”

Barty tilted his head, his grin lazy and infuriating. “If the shoe fits.”

“Maybe I’m here because I see something in you no one else does.” You bit out, your voice sharper now. “But you’re too busy tearing yourself down to notice.”

For a moment, Barty faltered. His smirk wavered, and the confidence in his posture cracked just enough for you to see the insecurity underneath. But he recovered quickly, his walls slamming back into place as he gave a low, bitter laugh.

“Don’t waste your sympathy on me, princess,” He cooed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I don’t need it. And I definitely don’t need saving.”

“I’m not trying to save you,” You sighed, your voice soft but firm. “But you keep pushing everyone away, and one day, you’ll push too hard.”

Barty’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as he leaned in again. “And yet, here you are,” He murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. “Still coming back for more.”

Your throat tightened, the anger in your chest swirling with something far more dangerous. His words cut, his arrogance infuriated you- but you couldn’t deny the pull between you. And Barty knew it.

“Admit it,” He said, his voice soft but unrelenting. “I’m the one who gets under your skin. Not Lupin. Not anyone else. Me.”

You stared at him for a moment, and you saw it. The slight gloss to his eyes- he was pushing himself. Past what you've ever thought you'd see from him. You closed your eyes and took a small steadying breath. “Yes, you idiot.” You spat. “It's you.”

Barty froze. The smirk he wore like a second skin faltered, his sharp retort catching somewhere in his throat. For a moment, he just stared at you, as if he hadn’t expected you to admit it- hadn’t expected you to say anything at all.

And neither had you.

The words hung between you, heavy and undeniable. You could feel the weight of them pressing down on your chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Barty didn’t have a comeback ready. His grip on your hips slackened, and his expression shifted, the arrogance slipping to reveal something far more raw.

“Say that again,” He muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a challenge there, but beneath it, you heard the hesitation- the flicker of uncertainty he was trying so hard to hide.

You swallowed hard, your breath still unsteady as you met his gaze. “It’s you,” You repeated, quieter this time but no less firm. “You’re the one who gets under my skin. And I hate it.”

Something in his eyes darkened, a mix of triumph and something he didn’t quite know how to handle. His lips quirked up into a smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You really know how to flatter a bloke, don’t you?” He drawled, though his voice was softer now, lacking its usual bite.

“Don’t,” You snapped, your frustration bubbling to the surface again. “Don’t twist this into some stupid game, Barty.”

“Isn’t it always a game?” He shot back, his smirk widening, though there was an edge to it now- one that betrayed just how deeply your words had cut. “You and me, sneaking around, pretending like it doesn’t mean anything. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

“No,” You said firmly, your hands gripping the front of his shirt to steady yourself- or maybe to keep him from pulling away. “That’s your point. It’s never been mine.”

He stared at you, his jaw tight, his breathing still heavy. For once, he seemed at a loss, his usual cocky bravado slipping as he tried to process what you’d just said. And for a moment, you thought he might pull away, retreat into the safety of his defenses. But instead, he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours.

“You drive me mad, you know that?” He muttered, his voice low and raw, lacking its usual teasing lilt.

“Good,” You huffed, your voice equally soft but no less sharp. “It’s mutual.”

A quiet laugh escaped him, almost disbelieving, and he shook his head slightly. “Why do you keep coming back, then?” He asked, his tone laced with something that sounded almost like desperation. “If you hate me so much?”

“Maybe because I hate that I don’t hate you,” You admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Maybe because you’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile.”

For a moment, the weight of your words hung heavy in the air. Barty’s expression wavered, and you thought- just for a second- that he might let the truth settle between you. That he might lean into it, lean into you, and let himself admit that he felt the same pull you did.

Barty stood completely still, his eyes searching yours, his defenses cracking just enough for something real to shine through. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the vulnerability vanished, his smirk snapping back into place like a mask he wore far too well.

“Don't-”

“Merlin.” He muttered, stepping back, running a hand through his hair in an exaggerated motion of mock exasperation. “You’re really determined to make this into some grand love story, aren’t you?”

“Barty,” You started, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice, but he was already shaking his head, the teasing glint in his eyes turning sharper, crueler. He sat up off of you, pulling out a cigarette, you followed him up.

“No, seriously,” He interrupted, his tone light and biting, the edge of mockery unmistakable. “What is it you want, huh? A confession? A bloody sonnet? Should I get down on one knee while I’m at it?”

“Stop it,” You said sharply, stepping forward, but he just leaned casually against the wall, his cigarette dangling from his lips as though nothing you said could touch him.

“Why? Isn’t this what you wanted?” He asked, spreading his arms wide with a grin that was far too sharp to be genuine. “I mean, you’ve got me cornered, haven’t you? Time for me to spill my tragic backstory and tell you how you’ve ‘changed’ me. Is that it? Does that get you off, doll?”

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you tried to keep your composure. “Why are you doing this?” You demanded, your voice trembling with frustration. “Why can’t you just be serious for once?”

“Oh, I am serious,” Barty said, his grin fading into something colder, more calculated. He straightened up, his posture lazy but his eyes sharp as they locked on yours. “I’m seriously wondering why you’re still here.”

The words hit you, a blow to the chest, but you refused to flinch. “You’re pushing me away,” you said, your voice quieter now, but no less steady. “That’s what this is. You’re scared, so you’re trying to scare me off first.”

“Scared?” Barty repeated, letting out a short, bitter laugh. “Of what? You? Don’t flatter yourself, doll.”

“Then what is this?” You demanded, your frustration boiling over. “Why can’t you just admit that this- us- means something to you?”

“Because it doesn’t,” He snapped, his tone ice-cold. He stepped closer, his smirk twisting into something cruel as he looked down at you. “You’re just a game, sweetheart. A fun little distraction. And now that the fun’s over…” He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over you with a deliberate slowness that made your stomach churn. “Unless, of course, you’ve got something else in mind.”

Your breath hitched, and your chest tightened. “You’re disgusting,” you said, your voice low but trembling with anger. “You really think I’d just-”

“What? Sleep with me?” Barty interrupted, his smirk widening as he leaned in closer. “Why not? That’s what this has always been about, hasn’t it? A bit of fun. A bit of danger. But if that’s not on the table…” He shrugged, stepping back and taking another drag from his cigarette. “Well, what’s the point?”

You stared at him, your chest heaving as you struggled to process the sheer cruelty of his words. “You don’t mean that,” You said quietly, but even as the words left your mouth, you could see the glint of triumph in his eyes.

“Don’t I?” He chuckled, exhaling a stream of smoke as he watched you with a detached amusement that made your stomach twist. “Face it, doll. This was never about anything real. You’re just upset because I beat you to the punch.”

“The punch?” You echoed, your voice shaking with disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You were always going to leave,” He said simply, his tone casual, almost bored. “Run back to your safe little Gryffindor bubble the second this got too messy. I’m just saving us both the trouble.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. You hated how easily and effortlessly he could tear you down with just a few carefully chosen words. And worst of all, you hated how much you still cared, even now.

“You’re a coward,” You said finally, your voice low and steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “You hide behind this- this persona because you’re too scared to let anyone see the real you. But guess what, Barty? That’s not my problem anymore.”

You turned on your heel, heading for the door, but his voice stopped you just as your hand touched the handle.

“Go on, then,” He called, his tone light and mocking. “Run back to Lupin. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to play the hero.”

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. The tears spilled over as you yanked the door open and slammed it shut behind you, the sound echoing through the corridor as you stormed away.

Inside the room, Barty stood frozen, his smirk finally slipping away as the silence pressed in around him. He clenched his jaw, his hands trembling as he brought the cigarette back to his lips, inhaling deeply like it might dull the ache in his chest.

It didn’t. It never did.

[unhinged-as-hell]

Yknow-you can hate someone and still find them interesting at the same time- I am aware of what they bring to the story, they're very interesting and I'm glad they add what they do to the story-and I still hate em. Snape bullied children. He bullied Neville so much he became the kid's Boggart. Boggarts show a persons worst fear. At the time a infamous killer was supposedly on the lose, and his worst fear was his teacher. He bullied their kid. He didn't care about anything else except for Lily-He called her a slur though. And people wonder why she ditched him.

He told Voldemort to kill James and Harry but not Lily. He told Voldemort to kill a newborn.

You're saying this like I don't acknowledge the good things he's done. Again since they were influential to the series I kinda have to. But to overlook all the bad? Yeah not happening. I've dealt with my fair share of emotionally abusive teachers for that to happen. I've dealt with my share of emotional abuse.

You're assuming quite a bit about me. I've read the Harry Potter books a dozen times over. There what got me into reading in the first place. I've watched the movies more. It's my dad's and I favorite movie series. We watch them literally at least twice a year together. (by the way I'm quite alright with movie Snape. RIP Alan Rickman). My favorite memories are of talking about Harry Potter with my friends and dad. One of the only memories I remember from my childhood is when my parents would put on movies every single day. I've never read All The Young Dudes because I dislike how it characterizes some characters, and because I've been told it's very T swift coded and I really don't like her.

I am not a senseless hater. I am not senseless. I need reasons for my hate. I need proof. And I have it. That's why I changed my outlook on him. You have proof to 'love', I have to 'hate'. Let's go on our separate ways. Where either you block me or I block you. Or you just get off my blog. Love with the people who love with you. Leave me be.

I will use the anti snape tag. I'll still get interaction. I already have by fellow 'Snaters' I mean have you seen the likes and reblogs?

RIP James and Lily Potter you would've never let Harry name his kid 'Albus Severus' Potter

[ultravioletbrit]

“thankful” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 361 words

“You’re very lucky, Mr. Black.” Madam Pomfrey tells him, adjusting the sling on Regulus’ arm. “This could have been much, much worse, were it not for Mr. Potter.”

Regulus glances to the hospital bed next to him and sees James’ smug smile.

“Right.” Regulus grumbles to Madam Pomfrey.  

“Alright, you boys get some rest.” She says, closing the curtain around their beds.

Regulus starts to settle down on his bed, but James doesn’t move. Regulus glances over again and now he has an expectant look on his face, like he’s waiting for Regulus to say something.  

“I suppose you expect me to be thankful now.” Regulus mumbles.

“I mean, a simple thanks wouldn’t hurt.” James shrugs.

“I’m not thanking you, Potter. You were a fucking idiot.” Regulus scoffs. “I was the only one that should’ve been hurt, but you had to be a hero and try to save me and now we’re both hurt.”

“Oh, yes. I broke my ankle, and you have a broken arm, how terrible.” James says sarcastically. “You almost had a broken fucking skull, Reg. Better two minor injuries than one life-threatening one—"

“It wouldn’t have been life threatening.” Regulus interrupts.

“Reg, you were unconscious, plummeting head first to the ground and Hooch wasn’t close enough.” James tells him. “You would’ve crashed, and it would’ve… it would’ve been bad, Reg.” James finishes softly, holding eye contact with Regulus.

After a moment, James sighs and shifts to finally starts settling down on his bed, moving one leg more carefully than the other.     

“How’s your ankle feel?” Regulus asks quietly after a minute of awkward silence.

“Kind of numb and tingly at the same time.” James shrugs. “I can’t put weight on it, so I’m stuck here for at least a day to give the skele-gro time to work. How’s your arm feel?” He asks.

“Feels alright. It’s in a sling for a day or two, so not bad. Could’ve been worse, I guess.” Regulus shrugs  

“Hmmm…” James hums. “Yes. It could’ve been much, much worse.” He mimics what Madam Pomfrey said earlier.   

Regulus sighs dramatically and huffs. “Fine. Thanks��� I guess.” He mumbles under his breath.     

“I’ll take it.” James smiles brightly.

[waitingformysandman]

Remember Me

Part 3

Summary: After years of being separated from your love, James (Bucky) Buchanan Barnes, you finally find him again. But he’s different. Too different. Not only does he forget himself but you and Steve as well. Can he get his memories back?

‼️Trigger Warnings will be noted if needed at the beginning of chapter.‼️

Triggers: reader not taking care of themselves, starving, self deprication, Steve Rodgers being an ass

Use of Y/N in this chapter. Sorry not sorry.

A/N: for anyone actually keeping up with this I’m so sorry this chapter took so long😂

“Of course you can stay with me Sargent. I’ve been waiting for you.”

He smiled that beautiful smile. The one you thought you’d never see again but were blessed to see so many times in the past hour.

“Don’t smile at me like that.” You blushed.

“Like what?” He asked. Genuinely confused as it was how he smiled at everything that made him genuinely happy.

“Like that. That smile you always do that gets us into trouble. The one you know would get us into trouble here. You know the one.”

There wasn’t a specific smile. It was just him. He was so unabashedly happy to be back in your presence no matter how little he remembered it hadn’t even occurred to him that he probably looked a little deranged.

He couldn’t remember the last time he smiled. Literally.

He frowned.

You furrowed your brow from the sudden change of Bucky’s emotions.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

He whispered so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. It didn’t help that he was looking at the ground.

“I don’t remember the last time I smiled.”

He looked up at you again, eyes watering.

You tentatively reached around his waist with one arm before reaching around with the other. Just in case.

He stood rigidly. His arms to his sides and breathing heavily. You pressed your whole body to him hoping your closeness would ease his tension like it used to. But it didn’t. Instead, it made everything worse.

With his one arm he wrenched you away from himself and his once gorgeous blue eyes were now steel. He wasn’t there anymore. He almost looked like him. The one that haunted your dreams now. The Winter Soldier. But he wasn’t. The Soldier wasn’t quite there. But he was there enough.

“Leave.”

Your head snapped up. Unsure you heard him correctly you asked him to repeat himself.

“I said leave. Stop waiting for someone who isn’t coming back.”

You gaped at him. Everything was ok. He was fine a minute ago. You were fixing your relationship, getting to know each other again. It was wonderful. But now.

You weren’t sure if you were going to be able to have a relationship if it was going to be like this every time you got close to him. It wouldn’t work. In no reality would that work.

“B-Bucky?” you stuttered

“I SAID GET OUT!”

He shoved you away and took hold of your wrist leading you out of the hut and quite literally threw you out.

You landed on your hands and knees with tears in your eyes.

Steve didn’t see much but he saw you get thrown out. He ran as fast as he could to get to you.

“Hey. What happened? You alright?”

You slowly got to your knees and looked at your hands. You started picking out the gravel that had embedded itself in your palms.

You slowly and calmly looked Steve directly in the eyes.

“He’s gone Steve. There isn’t anything we can do.”

Steve flinched.

“What are you talking about ‘He’s gone’? What’s going on? Y/N what happened in there!”

You got up off your knees and found Shuri near the edge of the lake.

“Thank you for all your help Shuri. I know you’ve done everything you can. But I think it’s too late. He’s gone.”

And that’s when you broke down. You couldn’t fight the tears.

You found Steve beside you and buried yourself in his chest. If Bucky wouldn’t hold you at least you knew your friend would.

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

2 Weeks Later

Steve was never good at speaking to women. Saying hello in and of itself was a general hardship for him.

Except for you. Since Bucky had found you all those years ago you and Steve had become good friends. Steve was grateful for that.

Steve couldn’t talk to women. But he could talk to you. You weren’t just a woman. You were his best friend and his other best friend’s…girlfriend? Fiancé?

Whatever you were to Bucky he wasn’t quite sure. But you were important enough that he had bought you a ring and you had worn it. Even after thinking he had been dead for 70 years.

He wasn’t sure if Bucky was still there anymore. If anything that had happened in Wakanda was anything to go by. Steve would bring him back though. For you.

As he wandered the halls of the Avenger’s compound alone with his thoughts Steve decided to try to visit you again. Even though you probably wouldn’t see him.

You hadn’t spoken to anyone. He hadn’t seen you leave your room or even order anything to your room. He had asked FRIDAY if you had been at least eating but you had instructed FRIDAY not to tell anyone and that “If it’s Blondie asking, tell him I’ll eat when I feel like it.”

He’d been getting that same message for months. He hoped you were still alive at this point.

Steve stopped at your door and took a breath before knocking.

Knock knock knock.

He waited a minute.

He was greeted with the deafening silence of the empty compound.

But he soon heard a rustling coming from the other side of the door. And then the sound of feet shuffling closer and closer to the door until it slowly creaked the tiniest bit open.

He was shocked. You looked awful.

“Hey Steve.”

That was it. 2 weeks of silence, not knowing if you were taking care of yourself, if you were dead and all he got was ‘Hey Steve’? Nope not ok.

“‘Hey Steve?’ That’s it? Really Y/N? That’s all I get? HEY FUCKING STEVE?!”

You flinched. You knew you deserved it. Hiding in your room for the past 2 weeks. He tried to help you. You just wanted to die.

“Yeah. Just hey Steve.”

You started to shut the door but he smashed his hand between the door and the jamb before you could close it all the way and he forced the door completely open.

You couldn’t wither away and lose a grotesque amount of weight like an average person as a super soldier. But you still managed to somehow look like it.

You motioned to the box by the couch in the living room.

“They sent me his things the day after we got back. Well, his backpack and the clothes on his back.”

Steve looked at you warily. It explained the slight look of insanity. You missed him. Too much.

You wished it was him in your room. Not a box of clothes and backpack of memories.

He needed the backpack. Wherever he was.

“You should go Steve.”

“What do you mean I should go? You need help! A therapist. Something!”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered “it’s not proper.”

“THIS ISN’T THE 1940’s Y/N! BUCKY DOESN’T HAVE TO BE HERE FOR IT TO BE ‘PROPER’. AND GUESS WHAT? YOU WEREN’T EVEN MARRIED! HE HADN’T EVEN PROPOSED YET SO IT WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN PROPER ANYWAY!”

You knew he was right. You mentally rolled your eyes. He was always right.

“Ya know what? Fine. Sit here and wallow in your pain and his bloodied tattered clothes and books of faded memories. It’s not going to help bring him back!”

And with those last stinging words Steve left. Making sure to slam the door behind him like the dramatic ass he is.

[maxdibert]

Why do you think Sirius gave up on his family? Do you think he thought they would forgive him for becoming friends with a blood traitor so he just did what he wanted but as the war progressed he realized he has to actually make a choice? Like he took it as a rebellion and angst at the beginning and only later realized how real the pressure was? Did he not love them enough? What was the deal there? (I know you are a Snape account but I love your takes on other characters as well that's why I'm asking for your opinion on this. Btw I read your fic and I love the way you write Snape's internal dilemas)

Well, you can ask me about any character—I don’t exclusively talk about Severus hahaha and i love to rant about things so... Also, Sirius? Can’t stand him. But I like him as a character because I find him so cynical and hypocritical that he’s absolutely fascinating. I’ve always had this love-hate relationship with rich kids from ultra-conservative families who play at being progressives and think they’re these righteous justice warriors but, at the end of the day, are still just privileged kids with privileged prejudices and privileged habits. And I mean that sincerely—no irony intended. I’ve met plenty of people like that in my life, and I think Sirius is a very realistic representation of the cognitive dissonance that people like this tend to have.

That said, here’s something I’ve always thought. Obviously, this is a personal headcanon based on my own experiences with people who fit his profile, but I think it holds water. Usually, people like this—those who grow up in oppressive environments and eventually become atheist anti-religion types, join the communist party to scandalize their ultra-right-wing parents, or turn into crypto bros after ditching the vegan hippie commune their parents raised them in—do this stuff in late adolescence, almost as adults. But Sirius? He starts rebelling really early, as a kid. By the time he’s 11, he already feels the need to rebel against his family.

It happens the moment he meets James, when James establishes that Slytherin is the worst. Sirius comments—offhandedly, without any resentment or anger—that his whole family’s been in Slytherin. He doesn’t seem like he’s at war with them yet, but you can tell he kind of likes the idea of not being in Slytherin just to piss them off. Add to that the fact that he hints in OotP that his dad was a pushover and calls Regulus an idiot—like he was just a fool—but he doesn’t seem truly resentful toward either of them. Sure, they didn’t have a great relationship, but when he talks about them, it’s more with antipathy than hatred. All of this leads me to the same conclusion: mommy issues.

Sirius had major mommy issues—or at least, that’s how I see it. Rich boys with daddy issues rebel by trying to become powerful men, detached from the arena where their fathers succeeded, but determined to surpass them. Rich boys with mommy issues? They turn into psychos. Seriously, that’s just how it works—I don’t make the rules. I think Sirius always clashed hard with Walburga because (and this is my favorite part, because this isn’t just a headcanon; I’m absolutely convinced of this from the little we see of their interactions—or of him with the portrait—in the books) they had the same shitty personality.

Walburga was a dominant, explosive woman with an imposing, even despotic, character. It’s very reminiscent of Bellatrix and, by extension, very much like Sirius. I think Regulus and Orion had similar personalities—the same kind Narcissa shows: arrogant, smug, classist, but restrained and composed. Egocentric, but calm. Walburga, Sirius, and Bellatrix are the other side of that aristocratic coin: the type who believe they’re entitled to everything and everyone, the kind who bulldoze over everything in their path. They’re wild and uncontrollable personalities, especially if someone tries to rein them in.

In my mind, Sirius took after his mom, and Walburga couldn’t stand having someone so much like her constantly challenging her authority. Sirius, meanwhile, couldn’t stand her trying to control him. So at age 11, his rebellion was probably just a tantrum aimed at his mom, a way to piss her off as much as possible. From there—and thanks to James’s influence, as well as the credit Sirius gave James because, spoiler-not-spoiler, James was also a rich pureblood wizard like him—he started adopting James’s worldview. Not because it was rooted in firm beliefs or clear reasoning, but because James had a family that wasn’t insane, so he was probably right. And if parroting James’s ideas at home gave his mom a few gray hairs, all the better.

It snowballed and escalated until the relationship was unsalvageable. James offered him a place to stay if he wanted to leave, and Sirius moved out. But the start of it all? A tantrum aimed at mommy. Sirius has some massive mommy issues he just can’t handle. And the funniest part? He’ll do anything to avoid being like her. He’ll go to any length to do the exact opposite of what she would do. But in the end, because they share the same awful personality, he behaves in the same violent, despotic, narcissistic way she did—just with different victims: Kreacher or Severus, for example.

It’s a brilliant little Oedipal case study.

[psychoticallykind]

See You Soon

"Bag" - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 688 words

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

Sirius raised his hands in a placating motion. "Look, it's fine. We can borrow some of Remus's stuff -"

"I don't want Remus's stuff, I want mine," Regulus interrupted. "I want my notes, with my highlighters, and my pens, Sirius! I need my bag, I can't go to class -"

"You can live without it for one day." Sirius must have seen the complete panic in his expression, because he stepped back before switching tactics. "Please? I just - I really can't drive all the way to your flat right now, or we'll both be late for class, and you hate being late, Reg. You can copy notes in one of my notebooks, and then you can switch them over when you get home."

It was logical. It made sense.

The thought of doing it made Regulus want to break into tears.

"I need a minute."

"Reg, we can -"

"Sirius, I need a minute," Regulus repeated, blinking quickly and grabbing his phone. "I'll be back, it's fine, I just -" his voice caught, and he shook his head before turning and retreating into the guest room he'd crashed in last night.

He shut the door and held the phone up to his ear, praying James had a minute -

"Good morning, love."

Even through the chaos in his head, James's voice made him smile. "Good morning."

"What's wrong?"

Regulus shook his head, though James couldn't see him over the phone. "I'm freaking out over nothing again, and I just needed to talk to you. Just for a minute, I know you're busy."

"I have all the time in the world for you," James promised. "You know that. What's going on?"

"It's dumb," Regulus admitted. He blew out a breath, angrily swiping at the tears that had managed to fall. "You know how we got back late last night?"

"Yeah, and you crashed with Sirius."

"Yeah." Regulus took a deep breath as the panic rose up again. "I have classes. But I don't have my bag with all of my school stuff, and I can't do my morning routine today, and I'm in the wrong apartment, and I woke up in the wrong bed, and every single morning you wake me up and you kiss me and tell me to have a good day and that you'll see me later, but I'm not home and everything is screwed up!"

"Oh, love. I'm so sorry," James replied. "That's a lot of things out of place today, yeah?"

Regulus nodded. He needed his routines, he needed his patterns. They made the day go well, they made sure he was okay to go to class. Everything felt wrong without them. "Sirius was trying to help, and he said that I could use some of Remus's stuff or his, but that's not - it's just not -"

"It's not your stuff," James finished gently. "I get it. It's okay."

"I just - the plan is all ruined now," Regulus felt stupid. He knew that none of this should matter. Not as much as it did, at least. But he hated when things went off-balance - it made him panic, it meant he wasn't in control. It meant he wasn't safe.

"Can we make a new plan?" James asked. "Would that work?"

Regulus shrugged. "Maybe. I guess."

James didn't mind his less-than-enthusiastic response. "Okay. So I'm going to suggest one, and you tell me what we're changing, okay?"

Regulus reminded himself to breathe slower. "Okay."

"You can let Sirius drive you to school," James started. "And I'll meet you there with your bag. Then I'll still kiss you and tell you to have a good day, and I'll pick you up after class is over, and we can come home and decompress. Does that sound alright?"

Regulus felt the chaos settle as he thought about it. "Yeah."

He'd have his stuff. He'd see James. Everything important would still happen.

"Okay, then. That's our plan."

Regulus nodded one more time. "Thank you."

"Anytime, love. I'm getting in the car now, I'll see you soon, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too," Regulus breathed. He took another deep breath. "And I'll see you soon."

[marauders-bs]

james potter is bad at potions and regulus black is bad at transfiguration. there is one solution here

"Holy shit," James said. He couldn't help but laugh, though Regulus elbowed him in the ribs for it. "So, moral of the story?"

"We're both fucking stupid," Regulus answered, staring down at his hands. James knew Regulus excelled in wandless magic, so he'd only taken the Map for their meetup.

"I'm fucking stupid and you're a genius," James corrected. "Well. Guess we'll be here a while, then?"

"Can't believe I'm stuck with you of all people," Regulus muttered, slouching against the door. "The least Dora could've done was tell me."

James turned. "What do you mean, she could've told you?"

"You know Pandora - Rosier - is a Seer, right?" Regulus asked, putting his hand on the doorknob and closing his eyes. "She's one of my best friends, and she has visions a lot. She had one right before she left the boys' dorm, and I'm now convinced that this is what it was."

"Why?" James asked, trying to keep the sincerity out of his voice since he knew Regulus hated it.

"She'd do that to me," Regulus said, very clearly trying to suppress a smile.

James looked away, knowing that Regulus wouldn't want him to see him smile.

"How can you read me like that?"

James turns back towards Regulus, a little quizzical. "What?"

"You knew I didn't want to be looked at," Regulus said. "You stopped looking. It took Ev and Bat years to figure that out and I live with them for most of the year."

"I pay attention."

Regulus raised an eyebrow but stayed silent.

-

Not a week after that conversation, Regulus kissed James.

-

Their meetups, which started as innocent study meetings, turned into something else.

-

James was going to graduate soon.

He wasn't sure he wanted to. Reg had been helping him with Potions for more than a year, and he had no idea how he was supposed to exist for a year without his witty commentary on anything that pissed him off.

"Reg," James said, hand whipping out to grab Regulus's arm as he made to leave. "Don't go just yet."

Reg smiled softly as James ran his hand over his arm. "What do you want to tell me?"

James looked into Reg's gray eyes, feeling bleached curls on his face. "I love you."

It was the first time he'd said it to Reg. Usually, James was incredibly lax with those words, once telling a waitress he loved her because she brought him extra syrup at two in the morning. But with Reg, he was special. James wanted the words to be special.

Reg blinked slowly, and James moved in to kiss him, but-

He pulled his face back, grabbing James's hand off of his shoulder and intertwining it with his. "It'll pass."

[bludermaus]

I'm not as angry as some folks for Swansea not killing Jimmy early

Okay so hear me out:

We know that Anya told Swansea about the things that Jonah has done (the game doesn't specify, but let's presume it was everything) and, in turn, Swansea becomes more rude and antagonistic towards James, as well as being even more protective of the Utility Room.

We don't fully know the contents of the conversation between them. Jimbo interrupted both of them, they could've continued talking about it afterwards or maybe they were at the tail end of it. The matter is, they talked about the remaining cryo pod and - from my interpretation - collectively decided to give Daisuke the cryo pod if a time for it came. Anya crying could be either because she was opening up to Swansea about Jimminy's crimes, the fact that she was going to stay behind with Swansea for Daisuke's sake, or a combination of both.

So... who knows if Anya even asked Swansea to do something about Jerry. For all we know they decided she'd just lock herself in the med room every night away from Jonathan while Swansea kept guard of the Utility Room. Maybe she asked Swansea to do something and he - like Curly - failed her. Or maybe she even told him not do anything hasty... which sincerely I feel was the case.

Hear me out hear me out! I think there are two reasons why Anya would ask Swansea to just keep it between them for now and not do anything harsh/violent against Jeremiah:

1) People don't just think about murder as their first response, it's *hard* to decide to kill someone, even if they are deserving considering the circunstances and how they reject any and all accountability;

2) As a nurse, I think Anya is well aware of what could happen by killing Jambalaya. There are mental effects that could happen, morale would go down from the loss of human life, killing someone is not an easy thing to do and their minds have already been stretched thin from the whole crash situation. And also, imagine they killed Jamboree... what now? They can't just dispose of the body. What happens after some time when the body decomposes? What happens when the putrid air takes over the ship? What mental and physical consequences would that bring to the rest of the crew inside such a closed space with that smell? What if it's very hot inside and now you're stuck with that smell?

I just think that they decided it was better to just cope with Jizzy for the moment - handle him very carefully - because the moment they decided to kill him it'd signal the beginning of the end, their already stretched-thin mental states wouldn't hold much longer. I *GUESS* they could've killed him, put Daisuke in the cryo pod, mercy killed Curly, then Anya could've OD'ed on the pills and Swansea could have drunk so much Mouthwashing that he expired... but like, who goes for that as their first option?

Anyways this was long enough! I could be super wrong, this is just my interpretation of things, what matters is that we all hate Jimmy, fuck him. Also do not defend Curly, I feel bad for all the ordeal that he had to deal with post-crash but man you really fumbled the bag when taking responsibility was most necessary. Even if he hadn't done anything immediately, at least tell Anya that she had his full support and that Jinny would pay for his actions and that he needed some time to think of what exactly to do but that he WOULD actually do something, not just push away to the back of his mind

[arliedraws]

Idk if I can do multiple asks from the ask game, but-

7 - what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

16 - you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

23 - ship you've unwillingly come around to

Of course you can!

7. Hmmm… I think I don’t like Regulus because of fandom. I actually used to LOVE Regulus because the potential of him is actually great! But the characterization of him as a victim of Sirius’s neglect takes away all of his agency. I personally love oily, icky characters. He’s so “snitcher” coded. I would LOVE to see a redemption arc from him where he continually fucks up until he finally gets it right—like a much less cool/sympathetic Zuko.

16. I do NOT know why people make Sirius obsessed with Muggle rock music—particularly if he’s wearing their merch. It actually drives me crazy. First of all, Sirius Black isn’t going to do free advertising for anyone. Second, extremely private Sirius Black doesn’t care to broadcast his likes/dislikes, and good god, he’s not going to hero-worship anyone (except James Potter). If he likes Muggle music, he’s at LEAST a decade behind the trends. If he wears Muggle clothing, it’s based on practicality, particularly if he’s trying to blend in.

Also, I’m pretty sure he had short hair before Azkaban. Am I open to overgrown/I haven’t had a haircut in too long pre-Azkaban Sirius? Yes. Long-haired Sirius? No. I think he lets his hair get long when he’s depressed because he’s just not grooming or taking care of himself.

23. Dude. I still don’t like Wolfstar that much—mostly because there must be VERY PARTICULAR characterizations + situations that would compel me enough to ship them. I really do think they’re well-matched as friends, but I don’t care for them as an established couple. I also, mostly, don’t like the assumption that everyone ships them (I hate being told what to like!!!!!!!). Okay, and also, I did NOT want to ship Harry/Sirius. I really resisted it because I love Parent Sirius so much. But whatever, it’s hot. I am strong enough that I can separate Sirius the Dad and Sirius the Daddy.

Thank you!

Choose Violence Ask Game

[traintrainingmontage]

Yesssssss more delicious Jobey cooking! I also like a lot of what's been said here. I mentioned in my own Edward Appreciation Essay (intended solely to highlight what I think are Edward's good qualities, mind you; I didn't talk about what I think are his weaknesses there) that Edward is very big on helping engines who feel lonely and unsure of themselves. Those are feelings that he can empathize with deeply, so he likes to help others that he feels might be suffering through that as well. As stated here, he wants to help James feel more welcome. That said, he does so at the expense of Gordon's image. It's a kindness to James, sure, but not so much to Gordon, although I don't think Edward is necessarily intentionally saying this to hurt Gordon--it's to bolster James. It's just interesting to see how Edward's kindness manifests--it's not platitudes or inoffensive fluff. It's "real" in a way that speaks to people; kind, albeit not the kindest.

I mentioned in my previous Essay that Edward feels like an example of a "good Christian" and role model in the sense that he's big on turning the other cheek, being kind and giving, etc., which works great for kids. However, that's the surface layer, which makes sense given that the Railway Series is intended for all ages, including adults. The deeper layer is that I feel Edward is a realistic portrayal of what might be considered ideal behavior regarding how to deal with your colleagues, from the younger ones to the sucky ones. I don't think that Edward keeps grudges, but like Jobey said, he does remember slights. That's normal. That's human ("human"?). It's what you do with that knowledge that matters, and in Edward's case, he uses it to make others feel better (at least, a large majority of the time). However, that does have the consequence of reinforcing his own negative Gordon feelings, such that he misses Gordon's growth at times.

The idea that Edward connects with all of these other misfits, often on the basis of them being misfits, is so interesting. It adds more dimension to the fact that Gordon, while being a prototype, is still sort-of a misfit in our eyes, but to the engines, he's the most-wanted/most hoped-for engine out of all of them. That's got to sting on some level, especially for Edward, who was also built to be a beloved, celebrated Express engine and was tossed aside. That, plus the fact that Gordon acts so superior... as far as Edward can read, he's not lonely. In fact, he's half the reason Edward and the others do feel lonely/lowly (and itches at Edward's abandonment issues, but I've said that already), so Edward would rather keep his distance and not engage.

Gordon's character growth is honestly one of the most compelling NWR-related arcs to me. I love that he feels so strongly and deeply about things and comes to form alliances with even the tank engines, who were once totally below him. He's humbled, but he grows from those experiences.

All of this is to say that I really love this analysis so far. It's cool to step away from the TVS' influence and solely take a look at things from the books' perspective; there's quite a few interesting differences!

Gordon and Edward, Part 2

Hello and welcome back to "Jobey ruins beloved RWS characters for you, using the power of... the actual RWS text!" 😇

Part 1: Gordon, what's your damage? 😭 / The Doylist Reason / Rent. Free. 

Post 2 (this post): Edward's Defences / Gordon's Growth

Post 3 (upcoming post, link later): Collision / Uh… Cleanup Crew?

Edward's Defences

Pretty consistently, through the next 45 years, Edward (most conflict-avoidant engine ever built?) takes a four-pronged approach to dealing with Gordon and the threat he represents:

He keeps Gordon at a distance. He focuses on building connections with… Literally Everyone Else. Gordon is kept more than a good buffer's length away (and when they must be in close proximity things do tend to go south in a hurry).

He tries to never give Gordon a reaction, or any other ammo. Will not admit weakness or discomfort or upset. Difficult, because he has a transparent face when he's sad! And he's comfortable confiding in others! But he'll never, willingly, let Gordon see him bleed. 

Instead he treats Gordon very lightly. Adopts a sort of affectionate knowingness, which allows him to "laugh off" Gordon's more irritating or threatening qualities. 

He takes control of the narrative. He doesn't shy from telling humans the engines' business. He spreads stories (I'm not saying false stories) that counter Gordon's branding of himself as supreme and infallible. He also builds his own brand as reliable and sensible. 

Where do I get all this from? The text: 

"I've got some trucks to take home tomorrow," he told him. "If you take them instead, I'll push coaches in the Yard." (~1925)

We're less than one full book away from "now all three engines are great friends" and Edward is already shedded somewhere else, baby. That move was likely integral to developing those two new friendships with Henry and especially with Gordon… ironic but true. Hey, we know that the big engines seem to have only learned to appreciate Thomas after he left, too! And, of course, it gives Edward some space from all of the *waves hand vaguely* at the Big Shed. He doesn't like conflict (and Gordon is a conflict-generating machine). 

They both rested at the next station; Edward told James how Gordon had stuck on the hill, and he had had to push him up! (1925) 

Bro. Bro bro bro bro bro. I am pointing urgently. 

This bit is so telling. It's been two years since the events of EDO/E&G and Edward is already seen defining Gordon's whole brand as we now know it to newcomers. 

If it wasn't for that moment, I wouldn't insist with nearly as much confidence what I think then comes into focus as a clear fact: The early RWS itself is all evidence that Edward is winning the propaganda war, lol. Gordon's opinion of himself is a silly, endearing, limited point of view. Edward's opinion of himself is canon, bitches! 

Incredible stuff. 

This scene is a glimpse into the tactics that allowed Edward to eventually win this game (poor Gordon has no idea they're playing). Here he is laying the groundwork a good 20 years before the books about them were even published! And this is a good place to remind readers that, unlike in TVS where they make Gordon's hill problem a recurring gag, we only see Gordon stalling out there and requiring a banker's help once. In Christopher Awdry's Gordon the High Speed Engine, he also specifies that Gordon (who is about to have trouble on the hill again, in the 1980s) stuck before on this hill. "[O]nce." Once. 

This is not a habit of his. It was a one-off thing. It's only remembered at all because his superior attitude and his ignorance of the words "thank you" offended Edward so deeply that he kept the memory of this event alive for over 20 years, until the Thin Clergyman got the story in print. 

It's a bit messed up. 

It's more than a bit petty. 

It's so bloody funny. 

No, I don't think Edward is some consciously evil Machiavellian genius. He's neither vindictive nor that far-sighted. But he's resilient, and creative enough to instinctively change the rules of the game when otherwise they'd grind him into rust. And there is his characteristic kindness mixed up in all of this, too: He needs to find a way to welcome Gordon's presence in his life, so he finds a narrative that makes Gordon funny and lovable instead of a threat. He sees James is insecure, so he tells that story at least partly from real solidarity and empathy. It's not like he's trashing Gordon, either – there is no lie told, and James is not put off trying to "motor-mouth" his way into Gordon's good graces. I'd characterize it, not as trashing Gordon, more… injecting an element of realism into his growing legend ;) We see in the same book that Gordon is continuing in his superior attitude (which involves putting others down, even if it's a bit more indirectly than he did two books earlier) and that his attitude depresses and dejects newcomers like James. There is good, civic-minded reason to slyly undermine Gordon's branding of himself as all-powerful and invincible – it's not good for the railway as a whole if Gordon is allowed to lord over them all on his throne unchecked, the new engines forever overawed. It is kind of Edward to welcome James and give him a boost, it's genuinely useful for everyone that in the end James triumphs to seize the role of a darkhorse rival junior but trusted colleague of Gordon's. 

At the same time, while it's all justifiable and even beneficial, this action is also very useful in cementing Edward's own position. Let's just be clear-eyed about this. 

"Shall I help you, James?" called Edward. / "No, thank you," answered James, "I'll pull them myself." / "Good, don't let them beat you." (1925-6) 

Edward and James show a perfect understanding of each other in this moment – different though they may be, Don't let them beat you is a shared value. (Shared by a lot of engines, of course; probably a steam engine culture thing. Douglas says something similar in RWS after accidentally destroying the spiteful brakevan.) It applies here to trucks, but no doubt that's a value that motivates them in other areas, too. 

It's just worth remembering this, when it comes to Edward's stance re: Gordon. He's more subtle about it than James is. He sort of has to be (he cannot directly compete with Gordon, as James can). But he's still determined to not be beaten. 

Errr, but then Gordon triggers a chain of events that Edward could have never conceived of. The Fat Controller sends him to Tidmouth, Edward goes in with no idea what he's facing, and wham. We have the first of the two really severe strains on this relationship: 

Gordon came clanking past, hissing rudely[...] / "They all hiss me, Sir," answered Edward sadly. "They say 'Tender Engines don't shunt', and last night they said I had black wheels. I haven't, have I, Sir?" (~1927)

Two things to note here. This clash doesn't only represent Gordon's and Edward's differing views on what is proper to the dignity of an engine and what he owes to his railway. That's all The Author can see of it, of course… The Author being a human, and thus with a vested structural interest in vindicating Edward's point of view on this matter — and in mocking Gordon's view to scorn. This is why, so far as the book is concerned, Gordon and his two big-engine followers don't have a wheel to run on here. The Gordon position is portrayed as thoroughly unreasonable (even if, despite the narrative's best efforts, the text must admit that the Fat Controller does actually have to get a new tank engine – which was Gordon's demand all along!) 

Because of The Author's interest, there's no chance of any acknowledgment that the other tender engines' anger might have the slightest validity to it. However I think we are seeing another, parallel clash going down here:

Gordon naturally sees friendship as, well, as an Alliance. My friends are your friends and your enemies are my enemies. United we stand, together we fall. The problem is that while Edward is mild-mannered he's not a follower, like Henry and James – he has his own mind and he's not about to substitute Gordon's convictions for his own. Edward's idea of friendship is mutual sympathy and support. Emphasis here on mutual, because you just know that young Gordon was quite prepared to receive support (as his due!) but had trouble returning it. That's something Edward considers a serious insult… whereas his own idea of friendship simply has nothing to do with "how dare you cut the branch out from under me when I'm risking my tender leading collective action against management!" To Gordon that's a real betrayal. I suspect when Edward undercut his strike Gordon was genuinely hurt and felt a real righteous indignation – one that is never expressed in canon because to the Author there's nothing even slightly valid in Gordon's hurt. But canon (the Author, the railway, the whole institution of human society that made and employs these guys) does validate Edward's position that boasting and one-upmanship are hurtful, itself a sort of betrayal – which is a big problem, since for Gordon they're alarmingly close to a damn love language.

This is a position on which I feel no need to take sides. I know the Author's position. I think they just have irreconcilable values and that Gordon's values, while I don't share them, aren't just shit, either. I don't condone all his behavior here but I do think his idea of friendship is consistent over the course of the Wilbert books and that he would feel genuinely betrayed here. And if you've been betrayed then it makes sense that you are hurt and angry. 

What a mess. 

"Tender Engines do shunt, but all the same, you'd be happier in your own Yard." (~1927)

Guys, I'm telling ya, the Fat Controller knew what he was doing when he separated Edward from the other "great friends" after the events of TTRE. He knows. Letting Edward have distance from Gordon is policy. Pre-existing policy. Drafting Edward to Tidmouth was a last-ditch effort to avoid buying a tank engine but TFC is unsurprised when it takes less than one (1) day of proximity for Edward's "laugh 'im off" strategy to fail. Proximity causes the fragile Edward and Gordon relationship to collapse immediately – which inevitably means that it's Edward who gets hurt – and so Hatt is resigned to his new expenditure. Off to the engine orphanage. 

After Percy is brought in, Gordon et. al. are suitably punished, and equilibrium is restored, there is again a long period of relative peace between 2 and 4. And it's not because Gordon has lost his capability to be an asshat to others (see "Gordon's Whistle" and "Off the Rails" and "Duck Takes Charge" and – etc.) But Edward's defences are restored and he continues to reinforce them. Again in safety at his own station, he regains his ability to laugh knowingly and to gather intel for the oppo file: 

“It sounds like Gordon,” said Edward, “and it ought to be Gordon, but Gordon never whistles like that.” / It was Gordon. / … / He screamed through the station and disappeared. / “Well!!!” said Edward, looking at Henry. / “It isn’t wrong,” chuckled Henry, “but we just don’t do it,” and he told Edward what Gordon had said. (1935-6) 

After Henry's rebuild, there is a long "dark" period – end of Depression (including Gordon's rebuild) and WWII. During the course of the war the Thin Clergyman begins (and ends) his stint as publicity director for the NWR, and in 1945 TTRE is published. I reckon the focus on Edward, Henry, and Gordon reflects that this was a high-water mark in their friendship. The qualities and values that these three actually do have in common – duty, loyalty, determination – would have been at the forefront for those years. They would have faced a lot of very difficult days together, and together they got through them. The bond might have been heightened because frankly this is the sort of circumstance I can see them at their very best but the opposite being true for James, so there might have beena bit of "the old band getting back together" and re-bonding. In particular I can see Edward and Gordon during the war years learning to better appreciate the other's strengths. In 1945 you can easily imagine 'the three railway engines' looking ahead to a happy new era and genuinely believing that all their petty squabbles are in the past, they will never have problems between them again. 

Lmao. 

Well actually, of course, life goes on. By 1952 Gordon in particular is achieving brand-new levels of asshattery in the lead up to his ditch tourism. However, the interactions between him and Edward this year support my guess that this was a period of detente: 

“I won’t go, I won’t go,” grumbled Gordon. / “Don’t be silly, don’t be silly,” puffed Edward. (1952) 

This is their most obvious "tug-of-war" moment ever, but actually the stakes here are soooooo low lol. To me this is one of their cosiest and most comfortable interactions, actually. This is a rare case where they don't sound like stuffy, old-school, vaguely-to-explicitly dysfunctional colleagues. They just sound like siblings. For once they're being fairly frank with each other. 

Wait… what's this... for twice? 

1952 was a banner year for them, guys!

The engines in the Shed were excited and wondered who would pull the Royal Train. "I'm too old to pull important trains," said Edward sadly. / "I'm in disgrace," Gordon said gloomily. "The Fat Controller would never choose me." (1952) 

This is a remarkable moment in this dynamic. It's the only time Edward ever admits vulnerability in front of Gordon. Fascinating. 

I think it's extremely relevant here that Gordon has been in dire disgrace for what appears to be at least two months by this point. His status (though soon to be restored!) is currently nuked. Gordon's been in a very amiable frame of mind towards everyone. He has never been less of a threat.

It's also extremely probable that, even if this book was published first, this scene almost certainly takes place after EtBE. So earlier this same year where Gordon hits his lowest-ever status, Edward has hit his highest since Gordon arrived – the Fat Controller has overhauled him and Edward returned to an enthusiastic hero's welcome from the other engines. Everybody's drinking their respect Edward juice just then. 

So this is a very brief period where Edward does not seem to feel any need to keep a wall up around Gordon – nor the others. 

Now, with James and especially Henry, perhaps that wall never goes up again. But with Gordon, well. Let's just enjoy the moment. Presumably the whole royal visit prolonged this high point in their relationship even a bit longer. But it won't last. 

When Gordon and Henry heard about the accident, they laughed and laughed. "Fancy allowing cows to break his train! They wouldn't dare do that to us. We'd show them!" they boasted. / Edward pretended not to mind[.] (1952) 

Backtracking to earlier the same year. Gordon's acting an ass here – but not like the asshole of the tender engines' strike affair. We're back, not to insults, but to mere boasting. But... reminder that while Edward probably feels an insult keenly (he feels everything else keenly; why not this?), it's boasting that really seems to get under his paint.

I cannot overemphasize the line He pretended not to mind. 

Edward is not a pokerfaced engine! This is not natural behavior for him! He's the "why are you sad?" "hullo Edward, you look upset" "Where is Thomas??? peepipeeeep!!" guy. This is play-it-cool stuff is behavior he developed as a shield against Gordon. 

To be sure, we also see him employ it later this same book, this time against James: "Late again?" / Edward laughed, and James fumed away. The difference is – well, the need for the life-saving chase was pretty lucky, of course ;) but the real difference is that at the end of the affair James makes a real apology. As a result, the narrative tells us (doesn't show us, which is too bad, but I'm going to trust the telling), their old friendship is restored, strengthened even. Unfortunately making a real apology seems to be something completely beyond Gordon, at least at this point. And even if it wasn't, well, Edward never directly asks for one or complains about the behavior of the other engines to their faces. I don't know if Gordon is capable of apologizing to Henry either, but at least in that case Henry is going to be very loud and clear that he wants one. (This is probably at the bottom of the success of the 3+4 friendship. Gordon needs things spelled out for him – and Henry complains and grumbles without restraint, no Gordon will always be kept up to date on exactly where they stand.) Edward doesn't do that, perhaps can't do it because it violates his "never admit weakness in front of Gordon [or, in this one case, James]" defense mechanism. His remark referencing the "Old Iron" insult hints that he's ready for an apology – and James is able to take the hint and respond appropriately. Maybe that's why we've only ever seen Edward have to use the laughing pokerface strategy with James once, and we see him using it re: Gordon many times. 

Going back to "Cows." At the end of that story Edward needles Gordon the same way he later does James. Gordon responds, not so humbly and sincerely, but arguably a form of relationship repair happens: 

"Well, well, well!" chuckled Edward, "two big engines afraid of one cow!" / "Afraid – Rubbish," said Gordon huffily. We didn't want the poor thing to hurt herself by running against us. We stopped so as not to excite her. You see what I mean, my dear Edward." / "Yes, Gordon," said Edward gravely. / Gordon felt somehow that Edward "saw" only too well. (1952)

Well… they too are restored to their status quo. 

It's just that their postwar status quo is polite, passive-aggressive points-scoring. 

Now, at least it's civil! It sounds friendly. It sounds like there's mutual respect there. But...  

It's not enmity. But you might call them frenemies.

I also need to remind us that we are reading the above quote because it is in print. Post-war, there is a new factor playing in this dynamic, a nearly-invisible but probably incredibly important one: the Thin Clergyman keeps publishing one or two books about their goings-on, every damn year. His interviews and his publications have already stirred up all sorts of old history (notably Troublesome Engines came out like two years ago, so they got to re-live that pretty recently). But now the RWS has "caught up" to current events so the engines are having the interesting new experience of an account of their doings for the year coming out, like, right away. Everyone becomes famous, but this also means that the books (and The Author's take on them) are shaping more and more people's perceptions of these guys, who have enough foreign traffic on their railway in this era that they cannot be ignorant of this effect. You know what they say about fame: it takes already imperfect relationships, and makes 'em better! 😇 Wait, no, they definitely do not say that... There is no chance that this sort of meta "reality tv show" factor didn't affect their outlooks and relationships. 

Especially in a relationship like this. Where the Thin Clergyman's account of things heavily favors Edward, and rather severely trims Gordon's wheels. 

Ooooooooooooof. I don't even want to speculate about the details of how this play out, but just bear in mind that it's. there. 

Maybe it illuminates a lot of stuff going on in Duck and the Diesel. Including this… 

“[H]e told Edward what Gordon had said. / “Don’t take any notice,” soothed Edward, “he’s just jealous. He thinks no engine should be famous but him.” (1957) 

Erm. That's a pretty blunt assessment. Especially from an engine who usually has rose-colored glasses firmly attached. 

I've never heard Edward say anything negative before about… anything. Literally anything. Let alone an anyone. 

His prior remarks about Gordon always had the air of "haha… lol… Gordon, we love him of course 🙃…" There's no laugh here, no fondness, no attempt to soften things. 

Not that this bluntness is a bad thing, in and of itself. But if the goal of Edward's defences was initially to find a way to maintain a good relationship (and I think it sincerely was), then the last example, from DatDE, is a yellow flag. It's been over thirty goddamn years now, and Edward is not growing more accepting and comfortable with Gordon – the opposite, actually. I don't hear Edward being unfair to Gordon there, precisely, but I do seem to hear markedly less tolerance than before. 

And this is interesting, the hint that Edward is losing patience with Gordon. Because Gordon is actually engaged in a lot of self-improvement. 

Gordon's Growth 

He's been on a magical journey of character development, guys. 

And it started way before his book/1952. 

We see the little crocuses of Gordon's emerging awareness that Other Engines Have Something To Offer, Too almost from the get-go. I would count the fact that (back in 1923) it's Gordon who proposes that Henry is let out of the tunnel to try pulling his train. Which. Crazy idea, really. But even crazier because Gordon's been shown to have previously spent day upon day upon day whistling "Serves you riiiiiiiiight!" 

Honestly, this is yet another hint to me that Gordon comes across as way harsher than he means to. I almost called the above "openly taunting Henry." But honestly, given his immediate and unexplained turnaround by the end of the story… once again, I think Gordon was being judgey and blunt, but really had no idea that what he was doing was so hurtful. Or that other engines have, like, feelings. Real feelings. 

We see this pattern again and again. Gordon tells Edward "[I'll] be a splendid sight for you" and James "Ah well, we all have to begin somewhere, don't we? Run along now and fetch my coaches" and the two smaller engines, quite understandably, seem to say in their hearts oh my God, what an insufferable asshat. Meanwhile Gordon thinks he's being friendly. Or at least condescending (but, like, in the fun, benevolent way). Similarly, Gordon tells back-from-major-reconstructive-surgery Henry that he's been really letting the side down in, like, three different ways – and I bet if anyone had directly challenged him he would have sincerely been like "... What? What's the problem? I told him we were happy to have him back!" Even his spat with Henry that led to his boasting in "Off the Rails" began with what have may been genuinely mother-henning his friend. I would not be too shocked to learn that Gordon gets twinges of unease that he never examines every so often when he sees Henry with a train and has a subconscious flashback to their fears for Henry's life after the Kipper accident. Altogether, there seems to so often be a good and commendable instinct on Gordon's part – it's just that for the longest time he doesn't seem to have a clue about how to transmute those instincts into something that other engines are going to find legible. And then if he gets even slight pushback his good instincts collapse and he reverts to his childish "meee! meeeeeeee! 😤😤" instincts. 

It's a slow hard slog for him to learn how to Use His Words and Relate To Others, but we do get to see progress. And it starts early! He makes friends with James after James successfully takes the Express (1925-6) – and it's really quite a gracious overture. He, along with James, sympathises with Henry after the elephant incident (the Author, of course, explicitly denigrates this, suggests that it was purely a matter of politicking and scheming and that it would have been healthier to have mocked Henry, the way the proletariat should always be cutting each other down at the slightest opportunity, really sticking the boot in each other's neck gratis. But hell with that! Lmao. Catch me ever swallowing Management's narrative about how their striking workers banded together. Anyway, even if I granted for the sake of argument that Gordon was faking his sympathy, well, I mean. Gordon faking sympathy is still #Growth. Fake it till you make it!) He is also friendly and kind when he rescues Percy from the Big Bank of Earth – he indeed shows so much tact that he finds something to give Percy credit for, instead of saying (which would have been true) "This is all your fault, dumbass…" 

"Off the Rails" represents a bad week or so for him, but the incidents in the rest of Gordon's book don't show us a newly humbled Gordon – more just a recently re-humbled one. His behavior to James is perfectly in line with those previous incidents. His behavior to Thomas doesn't come out of nowhere either… although in that one Gordon is trialling some new material: 

“I’m sorry I was cheeky,” said Thomas. / “That’s all right, Thomas. You made me laugh. I like that. I’m in disgrace,” Gordon went on pathetically. “I feel very low.” (1952) 

We all see what's new here?

1) The Alliance. Now, Gordon putting words to it (and words that make it into the RWS) is new. The concept overall is not new; this seems to be a verbalization of an attitude that Gordon has adopted long ago. As I argued above, this is just Gordon's whole concept of friendship. It is worth pointing out, though, that he never before extended this concept to tank engines. (He could condescend to them. Not offer them alliance and equality, though. Therefore didn't get upset when Thomas didn't "understand" his concerns as A Tender Engine, either. There was no expectation of a pact. Not back then. It's only now that this changes.) 

As the next decade or so goes on, we're going to see that Gordon (and Henry) seem to continue extending this implicit alliance to every steam engine. (Diesels, after that whole disastrous introduction to them via the most devious of engines, are a sort of last barrier.) Think "We engines have our differences, but we'd never talk about them to the trucks." Think Gordon laughing with Stepney and Duck over their triumph with "the heavy train." Think of rallying around Donald and Douglas when they learn there is a threat of scrap. That concept of alliance that was once limited between the big engines (plus or minus Edward, depending) is now extended. It doesn't mean that there are never conflicts or clashes within the ranks, of course! But it does mean that there's a new attitude spreading on this railway. This book is where we see the first sign of Gordon spearheading it. I wouldn't say he gets credit for creating or implementing it all himself – but he does deserve credit in the sense that, if he had not whole-heartedly bought into this idea, it wouldn't have become entrenched on the main line. 

2) Vulnerability. I directed attention in the previous section to the way that Edward will not admit weakness in front of Gordon. Gordon has something similar… but worse. Until this point, Gordon would not admit vulnerability to anyone. At most would complain, or try to make some "objective" case as to why he is ill-used. 

That isn't what happens in this exchange. He doesn't make the slightest argument for himself, he doesn't object to being in disgrace. He simply owns, aloud, that it sucks. I feel very low. 

There are other indicators that this is not a one-off, that Gordon is simply coming to terms with the reality that he is, basically, a sensitive soul: 

One day Gordon saw [Sir Handel] shunting, and laughed. / “My Controller makes me shunt,” Sir Handel said sheepishly, “and take trucks to quarries too. I’m highly sprung, and I suffer dreadfully.” / “Our Controllers don’t understand our feelings,” sympathised Gordon. (195…5?) 

This isn't as vulnerable as the Thomas case – Gordon's not feeling Very Low in that moment, after all – but it is a fascinating moment. In a previous book, Sir Handel treated Gordon like they were equals, which left Gordon "speechless." As well it might! (We'll get back to that in a sec.) And now, when Gordon meets up with him again, he does have the upper wheel: He catches out Sir Handel not being so very express-enginey after all! But when he laughs, Sir Handel owns up to his embarrassment. And this is exactly how you get Gordon's best side. When you're vulnerable, he stops acting the bully, and he's sympathetic. Very similar to the case from "Percy Runs Away." But this time, Gordon seems to be going a half-step further than just claiming the role of benevolent patron. "Our Controllers don't understand our feelings." He really does cement Sir Handel's claim to equal fellowship. 

It's probably not mere politeness, though, that makes Gordon sympathize. He's revealing something important here about his inner life. When Gordon is seen as his most proud and demanding, Gordon is actually troubled and upset – putting up a very good thick front over it, though. 

We will see confirmation that he's a creature of Feels again in 1968, after he spends a whole page (that's a lot of time, in RWS-land) unable to express more than "I'm not happy" – which the other Tidmouth engines ignore or treat as a superficial complaint because, well, they just had no reason to think that Gordon would ever be like this: 

Gordon backed down on his train, hissing mournfully. / “Cheer up, Gordon!” said The Fat Controller. / “I can’t, Sir. The others say I’ve got boiler-ache, but I haven’t, Sir. I keep thinking about the Dreadful State of the World, Sir. Is it true, Sir, what the diesels say?” / “What do they say?” / “They boast that they’ve abolished Steam, Sir.” / “Yes, Gordon. It is true.” / “What, Sir! All my Doncaster brothers, drawn the same time as me?” (1968) 

*dramatic gesture* Gordon the “I Just Want a Little Goddamn Sympathy” Engine, ladies and gentlemen. 

Returning to our overall topic, this is an interesting similarity between Gordon and Edward. Despite their numerous and obvious differences, they both have a lot of Feelings – like, to the point where it’s a burden, and figuring out what to do with ‘em drives their respective character arcs. 

Being them, of course, they approach the problem from opposite directions, lol. Edward is basically toughening up, and starting to adopt the role of an elder/mentor (he does this a lot later than I gather people think he does, and in more limited circumstances. But you do gradually see him becoming less A Normal, Emotive Peer and more of A Sympathetic Listener, One Half Step Removed from Ordinary Engine Life, Giving and Not Asking For Support). Gordon has almost the reverse assignment. He's opening up, and gradually learning how to come down from his high horse and be on a level with others. 

Once Gordon learns how to use his words to express himself like a rational being, he starts being able to form much healthier bonds with others. (I didn’t say with everyone. And I didn’t say they were perfectly healthy. Just… healthier than some of his past bullshit, lol.) 

And, when Gordon gets the kind of support he needs, he becomes much less of a pain in the arse. This arc continues all the way through to the Christopher Awdry books. 

To the extent that, as of Main Line Engines, he IS still a pain in the ass… well, I think we can infer that he hasn’t yet got that support network quite in place. 

Ironically, ‘emotional support’ is a real strength of Edward’s. It’s something we’ve seen him lend generously to a laundry list of other engines… and something we never see him offer Gordon. 

For obvious reasons. Gordon burned him so many times before and (the key commonality, of course) Edward is sensitive, too. It’s always obvious that he feels things keenly and takes things hard. His character arc has a lot to do with channeling that sensitivity into action and learning to build more backbone. 

It's on a collision course with Gordon's character arc, which is about connecting with and owning his feelings and learning how to express them. 

We can see the crash coming in part to, again, the absence of what we see between them in this pre-60s era. Gordon has repeatedly proven that he can be a very good friend, when an engine is down (Percy, James, Thomas, Sir Handel). This is a great footing for Gordon to show his best and most generous side. 

Unfortunately Edward's entire strategy for dealing with Gordon since at least 1925 has been about NOT showing any weakness in front of him. A strategy he's followed with great success. 

So it's no surprise, that both characters are growing and developing, but that their relationship is growing more and more hollow. 

It's no surprise… but it is aggravating. 

And the thing that makes you want to tear your hair out the most? Gordon – Mr. Oblivious himself – has no idea anything's wrong.

And, honestly, watching Edward getting slyer and slyer about forever keeping Gordon squarely on the back foot is a joy… I’m so proud of him… even as part of me groans because, funny though this is, they could have had something even better. 

Let’s take a closer look at MLE. They’ve both spent decades now dosing on ‘character development.’ Unfortunately those arcs are on trajectory to criss-cross – and the smash-up happens here.

[cowardlycowboys]

parents empowered need to hire like I dunno young people because I swear they are just driving kids to want to drink

[houseswife]

[dreamsrunfaster]

james t. kirk, tarsus survivor, whenever someone needs help and support: we should get hotdogs. in fact we should get two hotdogs. i’m going to get cookies. we’re going to split the cookie.

[unlimitedhearts]

RIP Tumblr you would have loved Psych 😭

[travellingtribble]

I'm in my feels thinking about how fucked up the TOS crew ended like

Kirk got stuck in the nexus from ~2293 to 2371 only to die again, for good, as soon as he got out? Come on. come on man.

Bones got old. like really old. and didn't get to see Kirk again??? It's been a while since I watched the TNG episode with McCoy, I don't remember what he says, but he was like 150 years old. Did he ever even see Kirk before he got stuck in the Nexus. Did he ever see Spock? (I'd hope so, Spock disappears years later, in Picard if I'm correct?)

Spock was... around doing Spock stuff. And then Kirk died and did Spock even know? did someone tell Spock that his literal soulmate died. twice. and then Spock got stuck in another universe, a reality slightly different from his own, where everyone is younger than him and Jim is not really Jim and he has his own Spock anyway and his planet is gone and he lived the rest of his days in the Kelvin timeline, alone.

And Scotty got stuck in a transporter buffer for 75 years. That's so long. They had to tell him Kirk was gone? (although, they were together when that happened, weren't they? they were on the Enterprise-B, technically Scotty knew that Kirk was "dead" didn't he? I guess spending 75 years stuck in a buffer mode will screw up your memory though.) Did he see Spock again? Did he see Bones again before either of them died?

Basically the only ones we didn't see explicitly (or implicitly) die or disappear of the OG crew are Uhura, Chekov and Sulu. Where were they? what were they doing? did they know about Kirk? about Scotty? about Spock?

Sorry but like. that is so fucked up. why does nobody talk about this!!!