#goode smok

[smokszyvverstar]

Hehehehe Peasley has stolen my brain

My slaygume

[inkybiird]

HAPPY NEW YEARS!!! TO ALL MY FRIENDS, NEW AND OLD!! THANK YOU ALL FOR EVERYTHING!!!! <3 hehehe also first art of the year <3

Characters left to right:

Top row- Karv : @karvivore ; Ego : @anxxero ; Ori : @spacelizardwarrior

Bottom Row- LemonSoftPaws : @lemon-sodapaws ; Alto : Me ; Rush :@sugarrushsock ; Mel : @melanc0ffee ; Smok : @smokbeast ; Gorgon : @gorgondedragon ; Dusky : @duskdragonxiii

Based on this song:

[chai-and-wislawa]

If only i could experience the delerium i feel when im sick all the time i feel like life would be easier or at the very least i wouldnt be on antidepressants also cats are so good

[wtfsteveharrington]

after midnight pt 2 | carmen berzatto x reader

summary: you leave a surprise for carmen at work that lets him know he's been caught watching your content & the aftermath that follows. she/her pronouns used!

contents: perv!carmy, mentions of anxiety, mentions of filming sex tapes, dirty talk, fingering, hand job, oral f receiving, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, doesn't pull out (sorry he's possessive idk what to say). he also has this lil god complex over your other subscribers

word count: 4,587k

author notes: i had to cut a lil out bc otherwise this was getting lllooonngg. thank you for all the love on part one & i hope you enjoy this one too!! <33

part one

Carmen wonders what you think of this mysterious new account that keeps donating to you. Sending you small gifts. It's nothing too large - He's not trying to put himself into debt by any means. But it is his way of cosmically balancing the scale of viewing your content without you knowing.

Sometimes he lets his mind wonder and entertains the idea of filming with you. Letting all these losers who sit alone at night watching you get a glimpse of how good he could treat you. Your knees over his shoulders as he folds you in half, harsh and rough strokes pounding in and out of you. Sometimes you get smart with him - It's the nature of the kitchen. He thinks about you in that position whenever you pop off with some snarky remark. Pinned under him, two fingers in your mouth. "Put that pretty mouth to use for me. There you go, Baby." His fingers sliding in further, causing you to gag around them but you reach up to hold his wrist in place to let you know you're good. 

He’d fuck you until you can’t think straight, a moaning mess against his fingers as you’re reduced to coming around his cock with no warning. Orgasm shaking through your body and Carmen would just keep fucking into your sensitive body until he can’t take it anymore.

This becomes his new morning routine. Waking up 20 minutes earlier than he really needs to because he just knows he’ll be hard from dreams of you. It’s a bit of an obsession at this point in all honesty but he can’t help himself. He pictures you laid out against his bed sheets, sleepy and grabbing at any inch of him that you can. You’d just be able to relax and get fucked well to start the morning, he’d do all the work for the two of you. 

Any mental space not occupied by the restaurant is fully dedicated to you. 

———★–————————–

Carmen’s barely awake when he walks into the restaurant. His eyes still feel so heavy and there's a level of exhaustion that he just can't seem to shake in his bones. He's grunting acknowledgment at the team, doing a double take as he catches you grinning wickedly at the board in front of you. There’s a familiar pang of jealousy - What’s got you so entertained this year? He scoffs at his imaginary man he’s made up that’s vying for your attention as he heads into the office to work on this week’s orders. 

Except he’s stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of lingerie he just sent you last week folded neatly in the center of the desk. His heart drops to the bottom pit of his stomach as he steps closer and sees a packing order next to the set - His name and address under the billing information circled in a bright neon pink Sharpie. Carmen knows for a fact that he double, triple checked that this was supposed to be a gift and for his information to be excluded so what the fuck happened? 

He’s throwing his jacket over the desk just in case someone walks in before he can take care of this situation but he’s got to get a handle on you first. He’s embarrassed at getting caught. Imagining you must think the worst of him. Trying to justify it by at least he was sending you stuff, right? Cotton boy shorts he thought you’d look so delicate in and lacy pieces of barely there bodysuits he wanted to rip apart and leave stained with his cum. 

He's storming over to you now, ignoring the way Richie called out his name to join him for a smoke break. You hear him mutter out a "Okay then, Cousin. I'll just go fuck myself." That Carmen doesn't even acknowledge. All his attention fully focused on you. His words are coming off harsh as his body tries to process all the different emotions coursing through his veins.

"We gotta fuckin' talk."

The words hang heavy in the air and you find yourself entertained with how assertive he’s being. 

“Why’s that?” You’re looking up at him doe-eyed and innocent. There’s anxiety practically rolling off of Carmy’s body and you’re gonna get to soothing him in a minute but you’re letting him sweat it out first. You didn’t mind that he saw your videos but you were a little pissed he didn’t bring it up. Half because you could have been putting him knowing to use, half because it did feel a little taboo for your boss to be trying to anonymously send you lingerie. 

“Nah, don’t play that shit right now. You know why.” His voice is harsh but you know he’s not angry with you. You can smell the combination of cigarettes and spearmint gum on his tongue with how close he is. His cologne comes into the mix and it’s heavenly in all honesty. He’s embarrassed for getting caught, worried he’s gonna lose one of his best chefs, and worried he’s upset you. Someone’s yelling that they need Carmen to sign for a delivery and your time with him is coming to an end for now. 

Normally your hand never dips below his shoulders or the top of his chest. Always friendly, light touches. This time your hand comes up to rest flat against his heart and you can feel it quickly beating. “Carmy - Breathe.” Your eyes don’t leave his as your hand slides down his chest, fingers trailing along the soft cotton of his shirt. Stopping only once you can feel the dip of his hip. “We’re okay. Go handle your restaurant, I’ll talk with you tonight.” 

You pat the back of your hand against his hip he’s being called for again, feeling a little dizzy under the intensity of his stare. He’s still nervous, knuckles turning white as he keeps a death grip on the line. “Carmen Berzatto, you’re fine. We’re fine. I promise you, okay?” Finally taking pity on him you give a warm smile, stepping back and breaking eye contact. “Go sign for the clams before we have to change tonight’s special and Sydney kills us.”

———————–★–———

Everyone’s long gone by this point of the night. Tina tried to convince Carmen to go home and get some sleep about twenty minutes ago but he made some excuse about wanting to reorganize the walk-in before tomorrow’s service. Really he’s just counting down the minutes until the two of you are alone. You haven’t been able to talk today - Too many listening ears around for Carmen’s comfort. In your defense, you just minded your business and kept on top of your station. 

But God he can’t stop admiring you from across the room. There’s less shame to it now that you know. Still anxiety, yes. But your comforting earlier has him… Hopeful? Hopeful for what he’s not sure. 

You catch him staring at one point during dinner service, risking a glance around the kitchen and throwing him a wink before turning back to work and deliberately giving him a small shake of your ass. To anyone else it would probably look like you were just swaying mindlessly. Not to Carmen though. You’re teasing him and it’s working.

Tina’s finally shouting out goodbyes and Carmen’s eyes are trained on watching as you walk towards the office. Any pretend task he was doing is quickly forgotten as he intently follows you. He’s played this situation over in his head a dozen times, even burned himself on the cigarette he forgot he was holding earlier.

He finds you standing by the desk, running your fingers along the edge of it and grinning. “What happened to my present, Carmen?” 

“Chucked it in my locker. Couldn’t risk someone findin’ them, you know?” It’s embarrassing enough having to answer to you, he couldn’t imagine trying to explain to the staff (or God forbid his sister) why there’s lingerie with his name on the desk. Carmen’s face is overheated and his heart is pounding. For all the hours he’s spent fantasizing about you, he’s never really considered this conversation until today. Typically he skips right towards fucking you however you’ll let him. But now he’s stuck face to face and trying to figure out how to acknowledge his actions. 

"You know I, uh -..." He's sputtering out, trying to figure out just how to defend himself, "You're very, very pretty if that means anything. Fuckin' gorgeous, honestly."

"Did you get off watching me?"

There's no going back now.

"Yeah, I did."

You're grinning at him now, stepping closer and Carmen swears the temperature in the room just went up by ten degrees. He's got his eyes trained on your face for the second time tonight. Hunting out exactly how you're feeling. What he doesn't expect is to feel a feather light touch along the waistband of his pants, nails scratching along his skin as you slide two fingers under the fabric. "Did you think about fucking me? Or did you think about me getting on my knees for you more?"

Carmy's starting to wonder if this is real. Maybe another daydream? For the time being he decides to stay with it though. Trying with all his might to sound as confident as he's mentally done so many times having this part of conversation with you in his head before. "Fucking you. Always thought how much better I'd feel for you than those little toys you use. Sometimes -" He takes a deep breath, straightening his shoulders and trying to build up the confidence to keep this going. He's still not convinced he isn't in some sort of trouble with you. "Sometimes I'd watch you play with your clit. Watch you whine and just knew how badly you needed me to be there."

Your hand slides lower now, fingers pushing through the patch of hair at the base of his cock. Carmen's breathing stops at the touch and you can feel him getting hard under your touch. "Really?" You hum, flattening your hand out and running it down his length. His hips twitch involuntarily as you cup your hand over him, middle finger dragging along his tip. "I've thought about you too, you know? Sometimes you get so fucking pissed off during a rush. I think to myself 'God, he needs to take that anger out' and wonder if fucking me out back would help calm you down. Letting you use me. Sometimes I think you'd walk away after you finish but I know you'd never leave me there all needy and not taken care of, right Carmy?"

He's shaking his head, his heart pounding and he's pretty sure he has never breathed his hard in his life. Labored and uneven while his cock keeps getting hard under your hand. He wants to kiss you, drop to his knees and lick you until you forgive him or decide to take pity and let him fuck you. But instead he settles for showing his need by rocking his hips up against your hand, letting out a broken little groan. "Never would just leave you back there. All I wanna do is - fuck - treat you right. Every night I think about how pretty you must sound begging for me."

You wrap your hand around the base of Carmen's cock, giving him a pleased grin when he fucks himself into your dry fist instantly.

"Do you think you deserve my pussy, Carmy?"

Another jolt of his hips. "No, no I fucking don't."

You lean in, just barely ghosting your lips against his. Carmen has given up all control and allows himself to be fully at your mercy. Your hand pulls back from his cock, sliding out of his pants and he's whining. Shamelessly whining. You're kissing the corner of his mouth, lips traveling down his jaw while you make quick work of unbuttoning your jeans. You grab ahold of his hand, sliding it down the front of your pants and into your underwear. Keeping his hand flat along yours, you use your fingers to navigate his. Rewarding him with a quiet moan right in his ear as the two of you press down against your clit. "I'm so wet for you, Carmy. Been thinking about what you must feel like ever since I caught you watching me." Your hips are rolling down against your hands as you come back up to face him again, bumping your noses together and rewarding him with another moan when Carmen's hand starts to move on its own. Two rough fingers sliding down from your clit to between your folds.

"C'mon, Chef. Want you to fuck me just like you've been dreaming about. Can you be a good boy and do that for me, hmm?"

Something deep in Camren finally snaps and he’s ready to fully earn your praise. One hand comes up to cup the back of your neck and pull you into a deep kiss while the other hand focuses on teasing your clit. His tongue is licking into your mouth at the same time one of his fingers begins to push into you and the combination of sensations is heavenly. You’re moaning into the kiss, both of your hands coming to wrap around his chest so you can begin pressing your fingers into the muscles of his toned back.

He doesn’t let up - Tongue sliding along yours and his fingers messaging the back of your neck while his other hand pulls out of you. You’re whining at the loss as Carmy pulls back, his fingers coming up to lips as he licks you off of them. “Been dreaming about what you taste like.” He looks sinful - Blue eyes staring into your soul as he follows his early fantasy and pops his fingers out of his mouth. Index finger tracing over your bottom lip until you take the hint and let your jaw fall open. Carmen’s fingers slipping in and weighing heavy against your tongue. “Dream about you begging me to come all over this pretty face.”

You start to rub your thighs together as the heat builds in your core, finding yourself getting more desperate as time goes on. Carmen drops to his knees, making quick work of pulling down your jeans and helping you step out of them. He’s making sure you're balanced once again before looking up to realize you’re wearing a pair of the underwear he sent you. Carmy smirks to himself, realizing he’s played right into your little game.

You want to make some cocky remark but suddenly his face is between your thighs and you lose all train of thought. His nose bumps along your covered clit before he licks a strip up the soaked fabric. “Can’t believe how fuckin’ wet you are.” Carmy reaches up to slide the panties down your thighs, taking his time and keeping his eyes looking up at you while he does. You watch as the pair is stuffed into his back pocket and he begins to place open mouth kisses along your inner thigh. Lips exploring closer and closer but always just far enough away from where you need him.

Your hand comes down to lace in his hair, the other one reaching over to try and steady your shaky legs by gripping onto the desk. “Carmy please.” You give his hair a little tug, unsure of his pain tolerance but you’re rewarded with a guttural groan coming from below you.

“Fuck - Pull my hair again.”

So you do, getting a better grip at the base and giving his hair a good pull. You direct his head closer to your center and Carmen lets you until he finds himself buried into your pussy. His tongue lapping over your folds and completing a circuit around your clit before going back down to the base of your hole. He’s moaning your name into you, his hands coming up to grab ahold of your ass. Helping you stay balanced while making sure you can’t get too far away from him.

He’s pretty sure if you say his name again he’s going to come in his pants so he’s putting in as much effort as he can to keep you distracted. Delivered a sharp smack to your ass at the same time he sucks onto your clit. He brings his other hand back between your thighs, tongue still working against your clit while he traces you with his bare fingers. 

There’s a finger being pushed into you and you tug on Carmen’s hair once again as he quickly pushes another in, dragging them both along your walls and all he can think is how good you’re going to feel wrapped around his cock. “S’good, Carmy. So fucking good. Jesus Christ.”

Your thighs are clamping around Carmy's head and both of your hands fly to grab a hold of his hair as you feel your orgasm start to build up in your stomach. “Shit! Carmen please!” He doesn’t let up, sucking at your clit while his fingers continue to curl inside of you. No one has been able to make you finish like this before and you’re a mess of gasps and moans and hips jerking involuntarily. 

It only takes another minute of him stretching you out and licking you up for your orgasm to hit. A mess of curses and cries falling from your lips as the sensation falls over you. Your legs instantly go weak and Carmen’s quick to grab a hold of your hips to keep you upright. 

He’s helping you hop onto the ledge of the desk with a reassuring little “Relax, I got you.” Your thighs are shaking, whole body vibrating and you’re keeping your thighs apart to avoid any pressure on your overstimulated clit. Carmen’s so proud of himself at the sight of you trying to recover. He’s between your knees, pressing down his work pants and his boxers before haphazardly kicking them across the floor. Your eyes drag along his chest, over his tattoos, along the length of him that’s thick and beautiful and ready to be buried inside of you. 

His hands find the bottom hem of your shirt, grabbing ahold and pulling it over your head. Your bra follows suit next. Both of your clothing is covering the floor of the office and you can't help but giggle at the mess made in Carmen's otherwise prestigious space. He's letting out a hum of appreciation at the sight of your breasts. Cupping one in each hand and letting his thumb drag across your nipples. "Fuckin' gorgeous. Been wanting to do this for so long."

There's a mouth wrapped around your nipple now, Carmen making quick work of sucking at it. Flicking his tongue across the hard nub. He pulls back, blowing a stream of cool air against your wet skin before switching to your other breast and repeating the process. You get to sit there and savor the feeling, playing with his hair while Carmen takes his time exploring your breasts. When he thinks you're just blissed out enough, he kisses a path up to leave a small hickey onto your soft skin.

You notice, of course you do.

But you don't complain.

Carmen wonders if you'll let him mark you up before you film anymore content. Wonders how many men will realize they don't stand a chance with you anymore and that you belong to him already.

There's another nip being delivered to the skin of your breasts before he comes back up to give you a warm smile.

Carmen’s leaning in to grab ahold of your jaw, kissing you gently while you reach out to grab ahold of him and get rewarded with a moan. Rubbing your thumb across his tip to collect a bit of moisture and lazily jerk him off.  He’d be fine with this and nothing else for the rest of the night. Getting you off and finishing wherever you ask him to but he knows that won’t be enough for you. For now he enjoys exploring your mouth. Getting to taste you and he wonders if you’re tasting yourself on his tongue. 

You scoot towards the edge of the desk and wrap your free arm around Carmen’s neck. You’re both so hot to the touch. Hearts beating fast, breathing uneven. Needy and unashamed how obsessed with the other you both are. His hands start rubbing up and down your thighs as he gives you a second to recover from your orgasm. He’s got you smiling against his lips as you kiss him, giving a playful nip to his bottom lip. You can’t decide if you want him to use you while you’re still riding the aftershocks or obsessed with how he’s letting you savor the moment. 

Once your thighs stop shaking you wrap them around Carmen’s waist, dragging his body closer to yours. He’s chuckling at you, firm hands sliding down to grab at your hips and your ass, whatever he can get a hold of first. “Wanna watch you put me in. You do so good at fucking yourself in your videos, Baby. Wanna see you tease yourself with me instead of those fucking toys.” 

You drag the tip of him through your folds, teasing the both of you. Carmy’s giving up every ounce of control in this moment, all given to you. “So big. You’re gonna make me feel so good, Chef.” There’s a sound coming from deep in his chest, “Use my name.” Oh. You nod the best you can while being so close to him, giving a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m so wet for you, Carmy.” 

You’re sliding the length of him between your folds again, tapping his head at your own clit before bringing him to settle right against your hole. Your hand comes around to press on his ass, directing him to push in. It’s hard to tell which sound is coming from who but soon the small office is filled with broken moans as he starts to stretch you out. 

His first stroke is slow, both of you adjusting to the sensation. He’s sinking in inch by inch, thinking of whatever bullshit nonsense he can to keep himself from instantly busting when he’s barely even inside of you. His brain is glitching, trying to hold onto this one time he walked in on Fak taking a bubble bath to keep his orgasm at bay but at the same time you’re moaning his name and playing with the hair on the nape of his neck and his balls feel so heavy and heavenly resting against you as he bottoms out and - 

“Carmen please, please.” Right, focus. 

He’s kissing you once again before rolling his hips. There’s his strong arms wrapping around your torso to keep you in place and you feel so warm and safe and full. You decide maybe Carmy deserves a little more shit soon for not burying himself inside of you the second he found your channel. “Gonna take care of you, Honey. Feel’s so good huh? Been dreaming of you wrapped around my cock and it’s so much better than I could have imagined.”

You nod and feel your body going limp, leaning your head down to rest your forehead on his shoulder while he starts to fuck into you. Each time you press a warm, open mouth kiss to his neck his speed picks up. The lewd slapping sound of his cock sliding into your wet pussy combined with his balls slapping against your ass filling the room. He’s bumping his shoulder up against your head, “Look at me? I wanna see your pretty face.” 

It takes all the strength left in your body to pick your head back up, “So much better than when I do it myself, Carm. Needed you so bad, so fucking bad.” He grunts, rewarding your praise with a sharp jerk of his hips as he brings his hand down to toy with your still sensitive clit. Your head falls back at the sensation so Carmen brings his free hand to grab your jaw, tilting your head back to look at him. “Eyes on me.” He wants to make some empty threat that he’ll stop fucking you if you look away again but he can’t even pretend to want to step away from this.

His thumb stays on your clit while we keeps fucking into you at a steady pace. His lips ghosting over yours as you both get closer to falling apart. “You can give me another, Baby. Wanna feel you come around me. You can do that for me, yeah? Wanna be good for me don’t you?” Your nails drag along his back and something about the hiss it draws from his lips and the way his pace sputters at the feeling. 

You’re a blubbering mess in all honesty. Any facade from your videos of being cool and collected is long gone as Carmen chases your orgasm. Just whimpering out his name and pleas to the best of your ability until there’s one fateful stroke combined with your clit being brushed against that has you coming undone. Nails dragging into his back and he keeps your head in place to watch as your orgasm plays over your features. 

Within seconds you feel him start to pull out of you, presumably for his own release. “Please, Carmy. Wanna feel you fill me up.” Remember how Carmen’s become more religious since he started falling for you? In this moment he truly thinks God made you special just for him. 

His lips are crashing into yours, sloppy kisses meant for nothing more than to convey need being shared until you feel his body go stiff. Hips jerking on instinct as he fills you deep with cum. One of the thrusts causes some of the liquid, a combination of the both of you, to push out around the base of his cock and he stores that feeling for later. “Fuck you feel so good like this.” 

Carmen’s sensitive and getting soft but he can’t help a few more thrusts into your sloppy pussy. Savoring the way he’s been able to claim you as his. There’s a stray thought that he really does want to film with you one night, keep the camera steady on your pretty body as he defiled it.

He stays buried in you, not quite ready to pull out. Carmen’s analyzing your features from this close - The curve of your nose, how well your lashes frame your eyes, the sleepy little content smile on your lips. He’s fascinated by you. The feeling is mutual as you trace over his tattoos, rolling your shoulders back to help relax your body. 

The two of you stay like that for a while, both just soaking the other in. You finally look up from his chest to give him a sheepish girl, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips. “So - Better than what you imagined?” 

Carmen’s laughing, the sound rumbling through his chest and warming up your heart. He looks lighter than he did when he confronted you this morning, a sparkle in his eye even. “Holy fuck, so much better.” You get another kiss from him after the admission, his hands coming down to grip at your ass. “Let's get you cleaned up and I’m bringing you back to my place for the night, yeah?” 

It’s your turn to grin, nodding enthusiastically and giving his bicep a squeeze. “Yes, Chef.”

[blondieeu]

Would you be okay writing some sfw & nsfw on what it would be like dating Connie? I know the reader is married, but he just interests me so much. I love how you based him on Rio, he’s my favorite.

i��m so passionate about connie being based off rio too it’s ok i love writing for him

been away. connie (constance) s.

“you good?”

and you’d just look at him. a moment for the two of you to be vulnerable together in a car you had no business being in, about to smoke a blunt you shouldn’t have been smoking, with someone you especially had absolutely no business being with.

“what’s wrong”

“can’t park here, my husband could see.“

he laughed, starting the engine as loud as he could while he looked at you, a bored expression. his eyes were low and his lips almost sparkled in the moonlight from the lip gloss you kissed him hello with.

“your husband mama?”

“yes!”

constance wore a white wife beater and some sweatpants, tattoos and muscles on full display to everyone who say him, but you knew it was only for you.

his prized gold chain laid across his collar bone. said his mother gave it to him when he was little. his car smelled like him too, the car you helped him pick out at the dealership. smelled like the color navy blue, if that made sense.

“yea ok. tell him your real man s’ takin’ you out.”

and he’d pass you the blunt, tattooed fingers grazing against your untouched ones and handing you a lighter before putting the car in drive and pulling off.

constance hated your husband, maybe you did too. he never listened and was always out, giving you the freedom to do the same. you weren’t a monster though, not like you didn’t care for him, just didn’t love him.

you loved constance— or as you knew him, connie. you knew you loved him when you started to worry about him when he told you he was ‘goin to make a play’ in the middle of the night. or at the point where you’d think about him, regardless of you being in a bed with a whole other man, your husband.

“where we going connie?”

“same place we go everytime girl. unless you want me to fuck you in this car.”

you squirmed in the passenger seat at the thought. wouldn’t be the first time but he could never not make you hot at the thought of having sex with him again, always gave you butterflies. made you feel like a virgin again. it wasn’t always about sex with him though, he was real with you.

when you got to his house it was like clockwork, order food, take a shower, put on some of his clothes and eat together. eventually deciding to eat in the living room and watch some bullshit show you’d been obsessed with recently.

so here the two of you sat. you laying with your head in his lap, and him with his hand rubbing on your butt and the other with the remote.

his house was like a second home to you, he said it was your home too. could come whenever you wanted to, move in if you wanted. got you a copy of the house keys, front door and mailbox.

“gotta move if you don’t wan’ fuck right now, you keep rubbin’ onnit.”

and again, like clockwork you’d work his sweatpants and then his boxers off to pull out his lengthy cock. he had a tan shaft with a pretty pink tip. connie always got so hard for you.

you wrapped both your hands around him but it still wasn’t enough to cover the whole thing. starting off you kissed the side of it, making sure to do it on both sides and even on the top before you took him all the way down into your throat.

connie would moan, head rolling and a tatted hand coming to push all of your hair up into the messiest ponytail you’d ever had. your free hand rubbing up connie’s tan stomach, pushing his wife beater up.

“fuck baby”

with your head bobbing at a decent pace, tongue flicking around his pink tip and getting a faint taste of his pre-cum. the sound of your boyfriends moans drowning out the tv show.

“want you to put it in connie”

you whispered as you let your head come down from his cock, still stroking while you looked up at him. his eyes were a little red from the blunt you smoked earlier. the tv illuminating his rough features, like the small scares on his face.

“so take your panties off then mama”

blondieeu xx

[skelekins]

snuggles for papa

I LUV MY FF

local big demon adopts two lil wiggles HE LOVES YOU TOO

[authoratmidnight]

So I was looking through the OptiRatch tag, as you do, when I saw @energon-depo's post about 'Smokescreen is an OptiRatch kid'

And unfortunately it takes very little to get my brain worms going and that one did and I kinda wanna write this. Or at least, a re-imagining of episode 18 where that's the case.

Like. Sometime waaaaaay before canon, before the war, Orion and Ratchet had a little sparkling (Smokescreen). But then (perhaps near the beginning of the war? just after he became a Prime?) he went missing/was kidnapped. He was just gone (I'm sort of thinking maybe Ratchet and Smokescreen were caught in an attack and separated and when the smoke and dust settled he looked everywhere for the little one to no avail).

Eventually they had to conclude he'd died in the attack, because what else can they do? So they grieve and mourn (esp grieving the fact that, now with everything going on, they'll probably never have another one-not only is it far to dangerous to bring a life like that into the world, but if anyone were to find out that Optimus had family like that, it would be painting a target on their backs. he already has to keep his relationship w/ Ratchet on the down low now, a child would be far to risky).

Then we fast forward ahead however many tens of thousands-millions of years have passed and it's the present day on Earth. Team Prime is investigating that escape pod, gets jumped by the 'Cons and then BAM. Smokescreen appears.

And to Ratchet and Optimus, the moment they see his face, it's like they've just seen a ghost. Because he may be grown up now, but that face, those colours/markings, those features, it's the same, it's their sparkling. Of course they mask this well enough under a guise of just. Surprise at seeing another young Autobot. Meanwhile they're looking at each other like 'you're seeing this right??'

So they bring him back to base and ofc ask him about himself, how her got there, his name (b/c it can't possibly be him. it just can't). He gives the spiel we know. But also further prodding on Ratchet's part (while giving him a physical to make sure he's in good condition, don't need another wounded warrior on their hands) reveals that (as far as he knows) any family he had died in the war. His memories as a sparkling are hazy at best, he doesn't remember his parents.

He grew up alone and basically went from alone to the Elite Guard, to his station w/ Alpha Trion and then on Earth.

Meanwhile, Ratchet and Optimus are just 'oh sweet Solus Prime it IS him' esp when a test that Ratchet ran while doing his physical confirms relations.

So on one hand, they're ecstatic that their missing sparkling is alive and well. On the other, do they tell him??? They want to, Primus knows they want to, but at the same time it would be so dangerous, cause it would and could get back to the Cons and that would be painting the biggest ever 'take me hostage' sign on him. So maybe not yet but, perhaps one day.

Smokescreen is woefully oblivious to any favouritism going his way (getting to call Ratchet 'doc' w/o issue, being allowed to just. use the Phase Shifter whenever. god they try not to show favouritism but they slip up sometimes)

And then the s2 ending/s3 staring events happen and Ratchet is just gripped with grief at the thought he's lost not just his partner, but his child for the second time in his life. He is beyond relieved when they turn up alive.

Smokescreen isn't quite sure why Ratchet hugs him so tightly once they're reunited. Like, he's glad to see him too but uh, Ratchet you ok? He's also a bit surprised that Optimus isn't mad at him for disobeying orders (going back to save him when the base blew up, using the forge on him to save him), but he's not gonna complain cause it did work out.

Now Ratchet really wants to tell Smokescreen. After all that he deserves to know. Optimus still isn't sure (even though he does want to as well).

Maybe one day, when the war is over, when it's safer.

Also. Alpha Trion 100% knew who Smokescreen was (b/c he knows like everything) and orchestrated getting him guard duty there, with him, to keep an eye on Smokescreen/keep him safe. He also told him stories about Optimus Prime as a way for him to know about his dad (Smokescreen always had a fascination about him that Alpha Trion was happy to feed). He also orchestrated getting Smokescreen to Earth so he'd one day meet Optimus again.

[timetravellibrarian]

Sanji x reader

Some thoughts on Sanji.

Sanji x femreader

_________________________________________

What happens when a simp meets another simp.

Sanji's advances toward women were never really taken seriously or even paid attention to.

He mostly cooked and waited tables at the Baratie, occasionally kicking ass if needed to. One thing he wasn't expecting was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen – you– enter through the doors along with a green-haired man and another gorgeous orange-haired woman.

"Hello ladies, what would you like to order?"When he had smoothly delivered a pickup line to both you and Nami– much to Zoro's annoyance at not getting proper service– he expected the usual his advance ignored.

"Well, I'd order you but you aren't on the menu." You threw back. It wasn't intentional. You weren't that much of a flirt, only used to doing or saying something to challenge or fluster others occasionally.

When the waiter in front of you seemed to have frozen on the spot and then smirked you were left with two words on your mind 'oh shit'.

Fast forward to the same man being in your crew, serving you guys the most delectable meals and kicking ass you were ready to give up on having a peaceful life.

Though he sent all his simpery to Robin and Nami he left you out of the loop. At first you didn't mind but overtime you questioned his actions. Wondering if he didn't try to flirt with you because of the first time you met or maybe he didn't think you were beautiful. Then you looked in the mirror and realised it must have been some other reason cause you knew you were drop dead gorgeous.

You weren't being vain, you knew you were pretty because you were told so by Apis when the crew helped her with Grandpa Ryu. Kids never lie about such matters.

Unbeknownst to you, Sanji didn't treat you the same because he knew that he wouldn't be able to save himself from loving you and confessing.

Your eyes, your voice, the grace in which you would do things. Even when you were being a menace to society. All of those he loved. You'd think he couldn't simp enough till he saw you not look glamorous and just chose to where baggy clothes. Not gonna lie he'd think you were gorgeous in a chicken costume, you never know with this man

As much as he was too shy to approach you he wasn't afraid yelling at Zoro to stop being so close to you.

You were close friends with Zoro. It couldn't be helped if you were the weapons expert, always checking if cannons were clear, swords were sharp and helping with new inventions with Franky.

So instead of noodle dancing around you he did the little things. Checking everything that he cooks didn't have anything you were allergic to. Always making sure you had a little lunch bag whenever everyone left to explore the island. Giving you extra cupcakes or other baked goods of you ever want more.

If you're a picky eater, he'd make sure to make your food according to your taste. Leaving multiple options on the dinner table for your palate.

He also made sure not to be away from your side too long. Wherever you turn you'd find a swirly-browed cook casually wrapping an arm round you to stave off any threats.

When you get sick he'd be calling in Chopper for any problem you would even slightly complain about. He'd be beside you 24/7 like you were dying or something. Which is kinda sweet but he was needed in the kitchen.

Overtime it just became normal for all this to happen. You got used to it. In fact I think y'all would be the kinda couple that just happened but then later confessed your undying love for each other.

To top it off, you were his number one supporter. Everytime you caught a glimpse of him fighting you'd cheer like you saw a celebrity. Some would swear that his behaviour rubbed off on you because you were also cheering and doing a noodle dance whenever he wore a different suit or set of clothes.

"YOU'RE DOING GREAT, SANJI-DARLING!" – 😍

But sometimes there were some downs in the relationship, for example his smoking.

You'd worry over him whenever he pulled out a cigarette one after the other in a day. Which led to you talking to him about it.

"If you don't atleast limit your smoking, you might as well be Black-lung Sanji."

He was a bit flabbergasted with the statement but he got what you meant.

Or if you had terrible coughs in reaction to his smoking he would try to smoke at a distance so he wouldn't and I quote, "Damage your gorgeous lungs"

As we all know Sanji, he didn't like women fighting too much or getting hurt but you immediately shut him down on that one, saying that as much as some of his morals were so gentlemanly and some old fashioned he had to accept that you wanted to fight. You wanted to help Luffy become king of the pirates. You wanted to be able reach your dream. So that needed you to be strong. That needed you to fight.

Since then he just aimed to be able to support you in any event that you needed help but he wouldn't be overbearing.

Would allow only you near the kitchen if you wanted to cook or bake something and you would allow only him near your forge/ workspace if he wanted to be near you.

Unfortunately for him you had connections wherever you went so you found out about his life in Peachy Island and never let him rest about it for a while.

And before anyone says anything about Fishman Island Sanji. Let's just say you were besties with Zoro there. Much to the cook's dismay.

"Stop being around that mosshead, Love."

"Stop losing blood around mermaids, Sweetheart."

Long story short, y'all were a confusing couple around that time. In fact, once he saw you were hanging out with the swordsman he would butt heads with the man. Leading you to pull him away before anything crazy happened.

Most times you told him to sit down and let you cook for the crew, especially if he was injured. He wouldn't allow it on account of Luffy's stomach being a literal black hole but you'd convince him otherwise.

When y'all fought together it was sure to leave the enemy in broken bones, hopes and dreams.

With Sanji kicking them away with his special moves and you pulling out a large cannon from the bag you carry around ( which was comically small but it was your magical inventory), nothing could stop you two. Sometime you'd trade opponents if he found himself fighting a woman.

Sometimes you helped him clean up after meals. Making sure that he didn't get all the work.

Most times he'd sit with you beneath the blanket of stars, his head on you chest/belly and you'd both share secrets about yourselves.

All in all, Sanji would love you to infinity and you'd love him just as much.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

I see you very much as an expert on all things Rohirrim, so I bring to you this question, hoping I can pick your brain for info to use in my own fics (full disclosure). 😅

It seems to be a popular fanon that the Rohirrim/Riders of Rohan have tattoos, and that body art is a part of their culture. Do you have any thoughts or personal HCs about this that you're willing to share?

Thank you in advance! I appreciate you and your blog so much (if you didn't already know that).

Oh my goodness!!! I am so very honored to be thought of as a person who is knowledgeable about my beloved Rohirrim, and I hope very much that I can live up to that reputation. Thank you!!!

I’m not aware of any real textual evidence for body art among the Rohirrim, and the historical record in the medieval Anglo Saxon and Norse societies that Tolkien used as a reference for them seems to be disputed. But I absolutely understand and agree with the conventional wisdom that tattoos are a thing in Rohan. It just fits well with a warrior culture that has a wilder, dare-I-say more pagan aesthetic as compared to the smooth solemnity of Gondor or the formal elegance of the elves. And since they’re a culture that doesn’t document things in written words, pictorial representations such as tattoos and body art would be one way to fill that gap (along with their songs and oral traditions).

In my mind, tattoos in Rohan are common but basic—they’ve really only got the technology for the “stick and poke” method so the designs are kept simple because anything too elaborate is difficult to pull off well. They’re mostly in black line (using soot) but some have color using powder made from grinding up certain dried roots and plants.

Each village/community has its own distinctive tattoo motif that is worn by all of that community’s members. So you can tell just by looking at someone whether they’re from Upbourn (a fish because it’s a river town) or Dunharrow (mountain peaks since they’re in the White Mountains) or Everholt (a boar in honor of the wild boar that live in this part of the Firien Wood), etc. And soldiers also tend to share tattoo designs specific to their éored—getting your éored’s mark is a formal rite of passage for the younger members when they first get assigned to their company. These shared tattoo designs are important both for group cohesion and as a means of identifying fallen Rohirrim even if the deceased isn’t known to whoever finds the body.

Beyond these ritualized and practical functions, I do also like to think that there are some purely decorative tattoos among them as a means of personal expression and/or to help cover small scars that so many Rohirrim have from battle, riding accidents or other mishaps. Obviously horse-based designs would be very popular, as well as other flora and fauna of Rohan. But they’re a very sentimental people and so I think little emotional signifiers would also be very common (again, especially because they generally don’t have a means to pay tribute to beloved people/things in written form, this sort of symbol would serve the purpose of making some kind of record of those tributes).

In terms of specific people in my head canon: Éomer has a little simbelmynë blossom for each of the major figures in his life that he’s lost (forearm). Háma had a sun to remind him of his wife, who brought warmth and light to his life (shoulder). Théodred had stars in the shape of a particular constellation that is visible every year on his mother’s birthday (chest). Éowyn has a representation of her father’s sword (left wrist) and gets a quill (right wrist) to represent Faramir after they get married. (Faramir got a little running horse in her honor on his first trip to Rohan. He was glad he did it, but he never wants to sit through that again.)

Merry brought tattooing back to the Shire when he showed up with a tobacco pipe on his bicep (both for its association with Buckland and in tribute to Théoden, whose last words to Merry were about smoking together someday when peace was restored). Unsurprisingly, tattoos did not catch on with the other hobbits, but Merry remains very proud of it.

Anywayyyy…I hope that was in any way helpful! Thanks so much for asking!! I remain a huge fan and am so grateful to you for helping convince me to put some of my thoughts and stories out there vs keeping them all in the confines of my own Google drive!

[smokszyvverstar]

I realised I don't draw enough Mareach. I'm too busy with my green twinks lol. Solution: Beach double date vacation? Hell yeah!

I need to stop doing beeg pages of smol drawings they take so long to do. But also theyre so fun

Zoom ins below

[copper-skulls]

Grillstertember: wartime

local dragon has to remind his guy after a long day to turn off his green before he manages to faint them both

[bberetd]

About the favourite art thing: Its hard to choose a one, so im gonna list them and probably write like an essay so apologies in advance.

Right! I love the sleepy Weegee page, especially with confused Gooigi seeing Luigi sleeping standing up and copying him I love them both!!! And Mario bringing his wee bro a blanket to warm him up, and his wee concerned face!!! My heart!!!!

And the Odyssey pages, Mario with his two favourite people! And the moon hug especially!! Such a beautiful moment illustrated so masterfully!!! And Mario running with balloon Luigi floating I love them both!!! And the trio in their explorer outfits!! Luigi looks so excited!!!

And sweet baby Apricot! Especially the one with her cuddled up with her loving parents, safe in the fort of their arms!! Shes such a little ray of sunshine!!

And the one with Peach and Daisy having a picnic! Such a lovely cosplay photo drawn so pretty by you! Their faces show their personality so briliant! Loud Daisy with her wide smile!

On the subject of Daisy, I love your not so recent rapper Daisy, the outfit is so cool!! And the recent Daisy adjectives comic, shes so full of personality she truly fits her adjectives so much! Each frame is brimming with so much Daisy, her face her pose her mannerisms her entire vibe, I love her!

There is so much more but I already wasted so much of your time reading this, sorry lol. Love your arts!

Smok you are SO SWEET 😭😭😭♥️♥️♥️ your comments and reblogs always give me a huge serotonin boost you don’t UNDERSTAND.

all very good selections, those are some of my favorite works as well 😌 and APRICOOTTT, ahh she hasn’t seen the tumblr light in a while. I gotta bring her back, may-haps with Chanterelle sometime? 😏

I feel like her personality comes out the most when she’s with Mario 😂 right now I feel like there’s no clear explanation for the extreme shift between her sweetness with Luigi and her loud, tomboy, big-sis energy with Mario, so ermmm… gonna work on that.

“Wasting my time” are you kidding me?? I just came back from my last class of the day (75 minutes of nonstop yapping from my prof about the course overview 🫠), this is EXACTLY what I needed. Thank you my friend ♥️♥️♥️♥️

[readerconfused]

random things i think about IWTV in my daily life because i'm obsessive

Claudia in S1 says that food doesn't taste good anymore when you're a vampire. So much (spoilers season 2) so that Madeleine has one last glass of wine before the transformation and complains about dying without tasting fine wine. But they SMOK like hell, does it have any effect on them? Because Louis needed other people to take drugs so he could take the blood and get high, i wonder if smoking does anything for them or they just do it out of habit and or i don't know it's something pleasurable in some way

[leo-fie]

Ad Mech Mantua: Project planning

I plan to share more of this project as it comes together. Maybe that's hugely overconfident of me, but I want to try at least. I planned to do this for my last project, the Houppelande, also, but then didn't because I felt my stuff was not good enough to show people.

Screw that! Be the fandom you wish to see in the world!

So these are all the garments I need to make to have this project come together. It's historical fashion, I have to get the undergarments right.

A chemise, not really special. Made out of rectangles, with nice big gussets under the arms. I plan to smok the front, both for decoration, and because I'm not fully comfortable showing my boobs. I have 3 meters of a thin, black cotton laying around, so that's gonna be a nice stash buster.

Next of course the stays. The pattern I'm currently working with is from Clockwork Fairy on etsy, seems to fit me pretty well. Nice to see a pattern that goes up to 4XL. This is already halfway done, I'm currently waiting for some supplies in the mail. It will have a zipper in the back for getting in and out of, and lacing in the front. I'm making it out of plain black cotton twill, ridges to the outside. I want it to be nice to the touch.

Padding. More fluff! Also pockets, but I haven't drawn them. They are just assumed.

Here it gets ambitious. I love the idea of a quilted petticoat. Because I like quilting and because with a mantua the petticoat is so nicely framed. I want to do something pretty there that's not just rows of trim. And I have these nice grey bedsheets with geometric pattern (Thanks Aldi). So trapunto? And of course it can't just be some gears, it has to be a functional diagram. Though I'm pretty sure this one I stole from pinterest doesn't...

Star of the show. I found a nicely patterned red fabric, that would maybe work, but it's polyester. I dislike polyester to put it mildly, but it would be very AdMech. Of course they use shiny, synthetic fabrics. I'm pretty sure I read something like this in the Skitarius novel. It may clash with the pattern on the petticoat and the smoking on the chemise, but all the patterns are square, so maybe it will work? The trim is a classic smoked trim that I'll slightly modify to evoke the cog design.

Lastly my favorite piece, the stomacher! Purely decorative, and decorated it shall be! I have so many beads and sequins and pearls and stuff lying around, not to mention the skull beads I made for the Houppelande and then didn't use. This is the truly hybristic bit. The bit that ties everything together.

I have already cut out the fabric and sketched the design. Omnissiah help me...

[the-cerene-rewritten-railway-au]

Two Ends of the Shed

May 1925

The Adventure Begins (2015)

Word Count: 4,114

James realizes that by listening to outdated engines, he'll end up like them: broken and soon withdrawn.

~

.

.

.

The yard at Barrow-in-Furness was as busy as ever. Engines came or left with their goods trains. LYR 920 was one of them.

The congested yard surprised him and the rest of the locomotives under the newly formed London, Midland, and Scottish Railway. It was only the middle of January, and the Amalgamation had gone into effect at the beginning of that year, 1923. Despite that, he still hadn't been repainted and given his new number. His original brass plaques with the deep green background were still on the sides of his cab, and so were the words "Lancashire & Yorkshire" in bold, bright yellow with cyan shadows painted on his tender.

He was waiting for his goods train to be filled. When he arrived, it hadn’t been filled halfway with whatever goods he would be delivering, so he had to stick around. All he could do was stay put and look around, leading to eventual pouts of impatience, while his crew waited inside his cab.

And that's when she came in.

The small six-driver spotted the larger tender engine with four leading wheels and four driving wheels from a distance. She was painted Deep Indian red with Indian red and black lining, and her eyes were bronze.

LYR 920 furrowed his eyebrows as anger boiled within him. The engine looked uncannily similar to one from the Furness Railway, who was loaned to the Lancashire & Yorkshire Railway in 1914. Though he had never spoken to the engine, especially after the near collision, he heard enough about the engine. Said engine turned out to be hostile, differing from her initial reclusive personality.

Shortly after, however, he learned that her class was demoted to regular passenger service after she left. The rumors were that the class was currently working mixed-traffic work.

Serves her right! he thought then. Give her a struggle! Engines like her aren’t meant for hard work like mine!

So the minute the ex-Furness Railway engine stopped beside him, he tensed but stood his ground. His bulbous nose scrunched up. Steam seeped out of his nostrils and through his lips as his jaw clenched, prepared to bite if necessary.

The larger tender engine peered at him with a smile. "Hello!” She took notice of his frown. Her eyebrows shifted in concern. “Is this yer train?” The ex-Furness Railway engine gestured to the train she'd backed up to, thinking that was why he was upset.

“No. I've already got mine,” he replied nonchalantly, mimicking the Furness engine’s gesture. A way to insult her subtly. “How's life as a mixed-traffic engine?”

“It's quite nice actually,” she replied, though thrown off by the question and how the engine spoke as if he knew her. “It's dirty work but it's no’ bothersome… somewhit. Whit's yer name?”

“Don't worry about it."

"But thon's rude!" she insisted.

The goods engine scoffed. Ridiculous. “Oh, you would know, alright.”

Like a deer caught in headlights, the other engine froze. Her steam got hotter to the point that LYR 920 felt suffocated just standing next to her. “Excuse me?” she asked in a threatening. tone.

“Fess up! I know you’re Alice!” LYR 920 claimed, dismissing his crew, who smacked his backhead. Their protests, telling him to quit it, were fruitless. “Don’t act stupid and not recognize me!”

Fury flashed across her face, leaving as soon as it came. “Din’ ye dare speak o’ her like thon,” she hissed, her voice full of prey’s venom, before exclaiming. “We dinnae look yon same!” 

Oh dear.

“She’s dead!” she continued, the fire sparked within her eyes, roaring at the smaller engine. But before she began ranting, her fireman climbed out of the cab and onto her running board, rushing towards her smokebox. Her words caught the attention of nearby workers, who initially ignored the confrontation between the two engines.

He whispered soothing words, calming her down, and didn’t dare touch her smokebox. Just stepping on her running board was all his feet could tolerate, the heat from her boiler spreading to the rest of her metal parts.

Once her steam wasn’t suffocatingly hot, she asked, “Whit is yer name?”

Weird was the only word, and an understatement, the smaller engine could use to describe her behavior. Both he and his crew were bewildered, even more so with the sheepish, apologetic smile her fireman gave them before the latter rushed back to his engine's cab.

Yet, LYR 920 answered.

Might as well.

Not like I have anything better to do, he thought, glaring at the yardmen still filling up his goods train. Oh for heaven's-

And just like that, he stopped himself. He was getting ahead of himself like an impatient dog. "I don't have a name,” he finally replied.

Again, the larger engine's eyebrows shifted, confused. Her behavior was going to make LYR 920 dizzy if she didn't stop. It was difficult to follow and process. "Ye…” she began, registering his response, “...dinnae hae a name?"

"Nope," he replied. "Not as privileged as the passenger engines."

"Eh?” she squawked, catching the attention of those nearby. “Guids engines can hae names, too!" she argued. The English engine wondered if this behavior was normal within this class. "Whit’s yer number then?"

LYR 920 eyed the other engine suspiciously. "But that's improper from what I hear."

“I said, ‘Whit's yet number?’”

"Nine-Twenty."

"Awrite, Nine-Twenty. Mine is Fourty-Five."

"Nawsense!" she exclaimed with a quick huff. "It's no’ fair thon I huv a name but ye dinnae, sae we shall go by numbers.”

And just like that, a guard blew his whistle before LYR 920 could say anything. The smaller engine felt his driver tapping against his backhead. He bid FR 45 farewell and left for his destination.

.

.

.

Thundering through the Ballahoo Tunnels, the black mixed-traffic engine hauled a goods train to Knapford Harbor. He passed by dull green junctions, the brick stations on the Main Line, and the branch lines. Every time he’d pass by them, he noticed that all but two branch lines were closed. Time had done its thing to some of them, covering rusted iron tracks in mangled branches. Twigs intertwined and dragged everything around it with a tight but fragile grip.

Time had not been so kind.

The more time that passed, the more James wanted to go back home. Home to his friends. Home to his older sister. Home to a place that he knew the most and could traverse easily without having to learn any new malicious trick being played by fellow workers.

It’d been a week since the incident. James refused to sleep on either side of the sheds, claiming the center berth. He was surrounded by the worst. It was either engines talking behind his back or engines who saw themselves above him.

“Slow down, chap!” exclaimed Fred. “Don’t want to burst your safety valve now, do you?”

James perked up. “No, Mr. Quill!” he quickly replied, unaware of how much his frames swayed. Pulling on his brakes, he eased to a slower and safer speed. He heard the raven man hum with approval, despite the thunderous noise of his pistons. A smug grin crept on his face, full of pride.

But as he continued his journey, his rampant thoughts about the other engines raced about. One was violent and a liar, one was an enabler, one was prideful and rude, and another was petty and envious.

He just wanted to go home.

At least his crew came along with him. He was surprised they did.

For once, he was thankful for his old railway's decision.

…

The brick building with the green canopy sunroof that was Tidmouth Station came into view as James continued up the west coast, leaving the green pastures of the countryside behind. He was due to pull the passenger service on the Ffarquhar Branch Line.

As the black mogul pulled into the yard and was uncoupled from his train, he heard a loud steel groan nearby, followed by an engine stopping and someone walking on the ballast. It was coming from the sidings closest to the Big Station. Curious, and with a hum, he wandered over, only to find Edward, sitting idly, and his crew, on their knees and examining the cerulean engine’s chassis. This would've alarmed James and his crew if they hadn't noticed the lack of steam billowing from the smaller engine's chassis.

“Hey, Charlie! Everything alright there?” hollered Mr. Quill as he leaned over the side cutout of James’ cab. 

“Old boy’s broken down!” Charlie grumbled without looking up. His engine glanced at the other but stayed quiet, which the latter rolled his eyes to.

Unaware of the present tension between the two, Fred asked, “Want us to take him to the works?”

Bronze and heterochromatic eyes shrunk. Edward quickly looked away, breaking the one-sided eye contact. In protest, James jerked, only to get a flick against his cab.

Damn it!

“Please do!” thanked Charlie, patting Sidney on the back before getting up and climbing into Edward’s cab.

Within minutes, accompanied by grumbles and pouts, James was coupled up in front of Edward. He blew his whistle, startling the workmen in the yard, Edward, and said engine’s crew, before departing for Crovan’s Gate.

The trip was silent.

…

Much to his dismay, James had to fill in for Edward. Grumbles and pouts sputtered from his lips as he huffed about the yards, shunting trains left and right.

“How could an engine break down from work like this?” he grumbled as he aggressively bumped a truck into others. His whining was loud enough to catch the ear of his Express service co-worker.

“It was about time,” Gordon replied. His response startled James, who’d been unaware of his presence.

Once James composed himself, he asked, “About time?”

“Edward is old. The four-leader, four-driver may have been the newest, the best, the pinnacle standard… but those days are over. They have been for a very long time.”

“That doesn't mean he can't do basic shunting,” James argued, leaving out what he wanted to say. This engine was talking to him as if he didn't know. For goodness’ sake, he was friends with an entire class of 4-4-0s, or the 7 of the 8 that remained, that is, and his former co-workers of those 4-4-0s from the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway were still going.

Gordon scoffed. “Tender engines aren't meant to shunt, little James.” He ignored James’ little “Why you-!” “The yards are much too small for a tender engine to shunt about.” He rolled closer towards James, and the venom of his voice thickened as he continued. “His days are numbered. That’s just how it goes. He may have paved the way for engines like me,” he boasted, “but his importance will cease to exist. There is a reason why the Fat Director continues to bring on better engines. Engines that are meant to be and will be better.”

Though James wanted to be furious, he couldn't. He wouldn't straight up admit it to the egotistical express engine beside him but Gordon was right.

For one, as much as James didn't want to admit it, afraid of putting down his older friends, 4-4-0s were losing importance. James heard this happen time and time again in the other three railways, before and after his rebuilds. The Atlantics quickly came in, followed by the Pacifics, claiming the prestigious express passenger services of their predecessors. Six-drivers, like he once was, were taking the goods services as quickly as they were given to the 4-4-0s, simply because that was their job. 0-6-0s were made for that job, as opposed to the 4-4-0s, who were designed for express passenger services and any other more important trains.

His friends and former colleagues were lucky that their railway refused to follow those examples, opting for the small-engine policy of the old Midland Railway.

But how long would that last?

The simple fact of the matter was that newer whytes were better and more efficient. 4-4-0s were slowly becoming a second option and would eventually become the last.

And while his previous owners dismissed his experimental rebuilds as a waste of time and deemed him a failure, the Fat Director did not. He must've seen value in him. Why else would the young gentleman buy him? The praises he would receive for his “splendid performance” only proved it; the Fat Director's words, not his own.

He was wanted because he was better. He was bought because he was better.

With that in mind, James spent the rest of his day with no complaint and pure pride.

…

Days passed by the time Edward returned from the works. James saw him ease into the yard, the lack of steam still prevalent, and halt. Bronze eyes inspected the area until he perked up once they landed on James.

As quickly as he could, the Edwardian-styled engine puffed over to the Edwardian goods engine. The latter immediately veered somewhere else but the former persisted and followed.

“James, may I speak wit’ ye for a moment?” Edward asked as he caught up to the other. He could feel the anger fuming from his steam. It was suffocating and unwelcome, and Edward couldn't blame him.

“What?” James replied, annoyed. His natural brash tone seeped fury in it, startling Edward.

However, the smaller engine pressed on. “I want tae apologize for no’ tellin’ ye why ye were in the yards in the first place.”

James scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I still don’t get why you thought it was necessary to do that.”

“I didnae want tae hurt ye.”

“Ha! Well, guess what? You. Did,” he snapped.

The smaller engine stayed put. It was easier with his crew holding onto his brakes. “I-I ken! And I’m truly sorry.”

“Say sorry all you want but I’m not taking it!” huffed James, blasting steam directly at Edward.

The little engine yelped and jerked at the sudden heat spewed at him, knocking his crew off their feet. Once his crew lost their grip, Edward was able to back away. Just enough to get away from the heat irritating his metallic-like face.

As Edward’s eyes fluttered and his freckled face scrunched, James rushed off without another word. Besides his pistons pumping, the yardmen could hear James’ crew scold their engine, audibly upset. Their protests were in vain, however, as James left the yard without stopping.

Once his vision cleared up, the small cerulean engine frowned. His brow scrunched and his nose twitched as frustration bubbled within his boiler.

…

James thundered down the Main Line with his goods train, still fuming from what took place at Tidmouth. Fred kept an eye on his steam pressure, which went crazy for a bit, as George, a dirty blond Englishman, tried getting his engine’s attention. His attempts were fruitless as the mogul engine crossed the Vicarstown Bridge and dismissed the tapping against his backhead and cab. From there, the pair let their engine be.

The yardmen at Barrow-in-Furness were startled by James’ loud three-chime whistle, having gotten used to not hearing it for over a month, as it announced the engine’s arrival. The shrill had gotten the attention of all the engines there. All of them bore LMS in yellow on their tenders and were painted in either black or red. One engine in particular, who had been humming about as she waited for the yardmen to empty her train, perked up at the familiar sound. Slowly, she shifted her frame, dipping her cab end slightly, to get a look over the other awaiting trains.

Meanwhile, James was led to the same area she was in for the workmen to disembark the goods. He pulled up two tracks left of the engine, facing north like she was, and came to a sudden halt.

The sound caught the other engine’s attention, and she immediately peered over. Once she saw him, she gasped, “Fifty-Six?”

The black medium-sized tender engine froze before flipping his smokebox door open to face his right side. His eyes landed on the bronze-eyed engine, and excitement bubbled within him. She was a Class 21 from the Furness Railway, about the same size as he was, and painted LMS Crimson Lake red. Her old number, FR 45, was replaced with her LMS number years ago.

“Thirty-Eight!” exclaimed James.

“It’s sae guid tae see ye!” exclaimed LMS 10138. “How’s Sodor, huh? How is it?”

“Oh! It’s- uh- interesting!” he replied, lying through his clenched teeth with a fake grin. “No other railway quite like it!”

“I told ye! We both did!” she recalled cheekily before chuckling.

“You certainly did!” he strained again, joining her laughter.

Once their laughter died down, LMS 10138's expression changed suddenly. She looked at James with suspicion, making the modified Class 28 nervous. While she was sweet to him and their friends, she was truly a menace to not be messed with. It was then that James realized how foolish he was to think she wouldn’t notice his mood. She was the oldest survivor of her sisters, keeping a hawk’s eye on them as much as possible.

“It’s no’ goin’ sae well, ain’t it?” she asked, leaning towards him.

Despite feeling nervous, James admitted to it. “No, it's not.”

“Whit’s goin’ oan?” she asked softly, her tone now different from just before. “Dinnae tell me it’s those Pacific engines.”

“It’s not them,” replied James. “You and Fifty-five were wrong about them. If anything, they’re nicer than the other two.”

“Nicer?” repeated LMS 10138 before laughing in disbelief. “Ye’re jokin’, richt? Those Pacifics were yon worst of the North Westerns."

"Well, they probably manipulated you into thinking that, Thirty-Eight."

Her eyebrows furrowed, scrunching her face. "Or maybe thon's whit those Pacifics huv done tae ye," she retorted.

"I'm not stupid!"

"I didnae say ye were!" huffed the crimson-red engine. "I'm jist worrit for ye… er-" She peered at his tender. "North Western Six?"

"It's James," corrected the North Western.

"Pardon? Ye huv a name?" she inquired as excitement practically sparkled from her eyes. "Och, ye huv a name!" cheered LMS 10138.

Pride filled the black tender engine's boiler. "Oh, yes I do!" he boasted. "Now can I know yours?"

"Nah, thon would’nae be far tae the twins and Fifty-Five," she replied.

James pouted and thought. As the workmen continued emptying his trucks, an idea struck him. "What if we gave them names?"

"Whit?"

"We can give them names!" exclaimed James. "Who said that only people could give us names?"

LMS 10138 hummed. "Ye huv a point,” she replied after considering it. “A very guid ane! Let’s go tell ‘em.”

“Right now?”

“Aye!” she replied, nudging her frame to her left. “The twins and yer sister ur here, too!” With swift movement, LMS 10138 popped her smokebox door open, jerking her body to the side. The motion, unnecessary but natural, grabbed her crew’s attention. “Can we please see ‘em?” she asked her crew, who pulled themselves back up from the sudden jolt.

While most crew typically didn’t bother acknowledging their engines, the eldest of the remaining Larger Seagulls was lucky that hers were willing to. “I dinnae see why no’,” replied her driver as he peered over to James’ crew. “Ye up for it?”

“Might as well,” replied Fred. “We’ve still got a good while before we leave. Come on, chap!”

James cheerfully whistled, joined by LMS 10138's bright FWHEE-EEP!, sounding remarkably like her class’ nickname-sake. Both engines, once uncoupled, left the area in search of the other three. Much to their luck, the twins and James’ sister were waiting to depart with their goods trains. The twins were to head back up north while the other Class 28 was to head down south. The oldest of the twins caught sight of the Larger Seagull and “Class 29” heading their way. “‘Ey, look!” he exclaimed, catching his brother and the Class 28’s attention. “It’s Fifty-Six!”

“Fifty-Six?” repeated the Class 28 as she perked up and flipped her smokebox door open. “It is him!”

“Fifty-Five! Fourty-Six! Fourty-Seven!” piped up James as he came into audible range. “Were you about to leave?”

“We should in a bit,” replied the youngest twin. “We were supposit tae leave a while ago but somethin’s goin’ oan up aheid.”

“Somethin’ aboot a stallit train,” murmured the oldest twin, LMS 17646. He and the other twin, LMS 17647, were Class 652s of the Caledonian Railway, having been given LMS Black. They followed the same color scheme as Fifty-Five and James did. “How’s it goin’, big man?”

James playfully scoffed at the nickname. Ever since he’d come out of Horwich Works from his rebuilds, the twins drilled in the nickname as, in their own words, “Ye’re the biggest o’ us now, mate!” They weren’t wrong as he was a few centimeters taller than LMS 10138. “It’s… something,” James eventually replied.

His friends became concerned. “What happened?” asked Fifty-Five. “They’re not picking on you, are they?”

“No, it’s not that! It’s…” James struggled to form his sentences but he just couldn’t. “It’s complicated. I don't want to talk about it.”

His friends grimaced, growing concerned for James.

“But I come with news and an idea!” he exclaimed, nudging the Crimson red steam engine.

LMS 10138 announced, “He's got a name! And he thinks we should come up with names for ye three!”

“A name?” exclaimed the three six-drivers, eyes shining with excitement.

“James! Given to me by the director himself!” he puffed proudly.

“By the director?” squawked LMS 10138.

“Ye really are the big man!” exclaimed LMS 17647.

“I'm so happy for you, James!” squealed LMS 12555. “Such a lovely name!”

James beamed with pride. “Thank you!” he replied. “Now, what about names for you three?”

The five engines pondered and proposed names for a while. The disturbance that was preventing the Class 28 and the Class 652s from leaving still wasn’t cleared.

“Whit aboot ‘Katherine’?” suggested the red Larger Seagull.

“Do I look like a ‘Katherine’?” asked LMS 12555.

“Mmm, naw,” replied LMS 10138. “No’ ane bit.”

“‘Lily’?” proposed James.

“She's small but no’ thon light,” said the oldest twin.

“Hey!” exclaimed the black Class 28. “At least I didn't get something like ‘William’ and ‘Billiam’,” she mocked, sticking her tongue out while being careful not to curl it up.

“Aye, I wonder who'd come up wit’ such names,” the youngest twin wondered loudly, eyeing James.

“Now that's just mean,” huffed James.

“Those were pretty bad,” LMS 10138 noted.

“Fine! What about ‘Jasmine’?”

The others stayed quiet before looking at LMS 12555. Her brown eyes sparkled with adoration. “Jasmine…” she repeated. “I love it! Jasmine!”

“Then ‘Jasmine’ it is!” exclaimed the oldest twin.

“Now what aboot us?” inquired the other.

“Well, I'm out,” replied James. “What about you two?” he asked the newly named engine and the other whose name was still unknown.

“I was thinkin’ ‘Donald’ and ‘Callum’,” suggested LMS 10138.

“What about ‘Barclay’ and ‘Douglas’?” added Jasmine.

“Absolutely no’,” hummed LMS 17646, “but I like ‘Donald’.”

“And I like ‘Douglas’,” piped LMS 17467. “‘Donald and Douglas’...”

The other engines thought, mutters amongst them.

“We like it!” exclaimed the twins.

“So do we!” agreed the other three.

“Come on, Thirty-Eight!” exclaimed Jasmine. “What's yours?”

With a well-meant eye-roll, LMS 10138 replied, “Goldilocks. Ma name is Goldilocks.”

“Oh, like the little golden-haired girl from that story about the three bears?”

“Aye! Even ma nickname is an ‘homage’ tae the story.”

“Hold on,” interjected James. “How do you get named?”

“Well, it's nawthin’ special, really,” the Larger Seagull replied. “When I first steamit, a workman stood in front o’ me, pointit at me and said, ‘This lassie looks like a Goldilocks.’ The same thin’ happenit tae ma siblin’s-!”

“Hey, you three!” hollered a yardman, pointing his finger at the three 0-6-0 engines. “You better get going! The line’s all cleared now!”

“Yes, sir!” piped the three engines.

“Bye, James! See you soon!” exclaimed Jasmine, letting out a fierce whistle and going on her merry way. “Take care!”

“Bye, Jasmine!” replied James. “Bye, Donald and Douglas!”

“Huv a safe trip, James!” exclaimed Donald. Both twins blew their whistles, letting out a soprano harmonic shrill before setting off.

Once the trio departed, Goldilocks piped up. “Well, I best get goin’! I got a passenger train tae pull soon.”

“Of course!” piped James before giving a smug grin. “I got to pull a passenger train, too.”

The LMS-red engine gasped. “Passenger service? Look at ye go! Ye’re goin’ tae huv tae tell us more aboot thon next time!” she exclaimed with a chuckle. “Awrite, I must go noo. Bye, James!”

“See you around, Goldilocks!” exclaimed James as Goldilocks whistled and left. Once she was gone, he grimaced.

It was time to go back.

~

Lot of stuff happened with this one!

I took one look at Donald, Douglas, and James being under the same railway before James was sold off and went, "they are brothers."

and because why not, have some trivia!

Goldilocks is a lesbian. Jasmine is demiromantic she/they demi-girl. Donald and Douglas? haven't figured them out yet ("they sure do exist!")

Within this canon, all of the names of the Larger Seagulls are derived from fairytales + folklore from England and Scotland. Following Alice Edward ("Alice's Adventures in Wonderland") and Goldilocks ("Goldilocks and the Three Bears") are Tangle ("The Golden Key"), Mhara ("The Sea Maiden"), Fiorimonde ("The Necklace of Princess Fiorimonde"), Daylight ("Little Daylight"), Speur ("The Daughter of the Skies"), and Emmelina ("The Doll that Came Straight from Fairyland"). Yes, Speur and Emmelina are the youngest two built in 1900, aka Edward's baby twin sisters.

Goldilocks and Jasmine, as indirectly mentioned, were loaned to the NWR during the 1920 Locomotive Crisis. An LYR Class 7 (Atlantic) was also loaned to the NWR during that time period.

Goldilocks' face is a reference to the Orange Chinese Engine from BWBA, which is just a modified version of Edward's model with eyelashes and different textures. They look VERY identical from a distance, but Goldilocks has less of what Edward has. Less freckles, less eye wrinkles, less eyelashes, and her nose isn't as curved up as Edward's. I just thought it would be funny.

James and Jasmine (LMS 12555 and 12556 respectively) are the only LYR Class 28s with a Hughes Twin Plug superheater and a Belpaire firebox.

[destinationtrekk]

you dont condone smoking. completely understood.

ok now time for my one unhinged ask (i feel like this is my confession podium rn)

BUT what about albert wesker 0% nic vaping off a Smok Fortis with black leather finish or a cute black brushed steel boxmod Argus MT. it smells nice, he can puff cool tricks with it, and it makes a nice lil fwooooooooooosh sound when he pulls from it. (turns out he made the juice himself, it's all custom, and it makes the clouds look so beautiful and dense in the air, curling up into themselves like fantasy smoke...)

you can't even be mad when he 'accidentally' blows a cloud that poofs against your face because it smells very nice...

i leave it up to you trekk what's it smell like... the crowd (me. it's just me it's literally just me) is so curious!!!

and if he offers it to you then you know it's touched his lips so many times god help me-

also yea this is totally ooc im just being A Silly

okay but this has tattoo wesker written all over it (it's so hot when people smoke). my bf vape is very fruity and i love smelling it because...yummy fruit

you're standing outside a bar with him, neon lights from the signs casting him in a purple and blue glow, and while you're teasing and flirting with each other he pulls his vape out of his pocket. at first you aren't sure... most people who vape are kind of annoying with it, but his looks cool

he hits it once or twice, continuing the conversation like it isn't even there, so you ignore it too, until light wind blows the dense smoke right over to you. it smells fresh, like mint and the smallest hint of tobacco (i'm bad at smells i don't know he seems like a cigar guy)

but the smells is honestly...really good. it catches you off guard enough for him to notice, and with a sly smirk he offers it to you, fingers brushing yours when you lightly take it from his grasp

you tell him you aren't sure, you're not much of a smoker, it'll make you cough. he reassures you with a quiet laugh that it's just vapor, no nicotine, no need to worry so much, but if you don't want to-

your lips are around it before he can finish. it does make you cough, a little, but it's more from the sudden realization that you can feel his chapstick on your lips now, you basically just kissed, maybe if you focused enough you could taste his tongue-

he steps closer, towering over you with neon lights dancing around his cheekbones and blond hair, and okay... maybe you're a little in love with your mysterious tattoo artist