#grumpy Ben

[zepskies]

Hey! I was wondering if the requests are still open? I’m so obsessed with BMD💗✨ I was wonder how Ben would react to his gf having cramps during her moon cycle✨

Tysm for sharing these awesome stories with us hun🫂💗✨Hope you’re healthy and happy💃🏻❤️

Hey there!

I'm so glad you love BMD. 🥰 I’m slowly but surely working through my inbox of requests! And because I’m currently on my “moon cycle” as I’m writing this [last week. I was suffering for four days], I just had to do this prompt. So thank you for it, lovely!

And you're so very welcome. It's my pleasure. I hope you're healthy and happy as well!! ❤️❤️

AN: This one is set in the Break Me Down-verse, but can be read as a stand-alone. Considering where we're going next in "Strong as Blood," I thought it'd be good to release this first lol.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Word Count: 2,700 Tags/Warnings: Period talk, of course. Hurt/comfort, fluff, grumpy Ben.

Imagine: How Ben reacts to his girlfriend having cramps during her period.

You really were going to die this time.

The thought was both a conviction and a deranged mantra as you stood hunched over the bathroom sink. Nausea and pain warred for dominance as you pressed a clammy hand over your forehead.

Jesus Christ, end me please. I beg of you.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend was in the bedroom getting ready for work. Both you and Ben worked at Supe Affairs now, with Butcher and the rest of the team.

You were one of the top agents in the Surveillance department, while Ben was considered a “contractor,” catching rogue supes and dealing with the remnants of Vought.

He was just about to undress from his shirt and sweatpants and start getting his supe suit on, when he heard the toilet flush in the bathroom…for the third time now. He realized then just how long you’d been in there.

He went over and knocked on the closed door.

“Hey, you planning on going to work today?” he said, with a teasing note to his voice. “Or making breakfast, for that matter?”

“Not now, Ben,” you replied, barely stifling a groan.

A frown tugged at his lips. “What’s wrong?”

“Debating if I’m gonna start my day by throwing up last night’s pot roast,” you replied sourly.

Ben’s brows crunched when he heard the strain in your voice. But at the same time, he couldn’t help smiling.

“What, are you pregnant?” he asked.

He heard your dry huff from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Most definitely not,” you said. “But at this point, I’d much rather be knocked up.”

Ben didn’t like the sound of that. He twisted the doorknob and let himself in, just to see his girlfriend locked up with pain. He read the misery written across your face. You were still in your pajamas (one of his old shirts that hung almost to your knees).

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he repeated gruffly. He rested a heavy hand on your back, between your shoulders. You let out a breath.

“Move that hand lower?” you requested. “My period came early this month. Hit me out of nowhere with a vengeance.”

His brows crunched a bit, but he obliged you, moving to your lower back. His hand was warm, as usual, and the weight of it was a small relief as he rubbed back and forth into your aching muscles.

You let out a deep breath and briefly closed your eyes. Finally, the nausea was starting to pass. And if you dawdled any longer, you were going to be late for work.

“Okay,” you breathed. “I need to get ready.”

You tried to straighten up, even though what felt like your entire lower body protested.

“You can barely move,” Ben said. “How’re you gonna work like that?”

“The way all women have managed to do for centuries,” you tartly pointed out. “With a buttload of painkillers and a heating pad under my desk…speaking of, where is that thing?”

You moved past him to look for said object. You knew you put it somewhere…

Ah! You found it in the top drawer of your nightstand. You plugged it in just to make sure it was working, but to your frowning suspicion, it didn’t turn on.

“Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me,” you said. You pressed the “on” button several times, but it didn’t light up. You touched the fluffy heating pad on both sides, but it was still cold. “Damn it. Don’t tell me this thing’s broken!”

You were about ready to tear the thing apart with your bare hands, when a sudden cramp spasmed in your lower belly. You inhaled sharply and held a hand there with a wince. Your back bent forward on reflex, and you grabbed onto the nightstand to steady yourself.

“All right,” Ben said. He took the defunct heating pad out of your hand and guided you to sit down on the edge of the bed. He went over to his side to grab his cell phone where it sat on his nightstand.

When you twisted to see what he was up to, you raised a suspicious brow. “What are you doing?”

“You’re not going to work,” he said. His tone was matter of fact, and your brows rose even higher.

“What? Ben—”

He ignored you when whoever he was calling finally answered the phone.

“Yes?” came Grace Mallory’s steady, but slightly incredulous voice. Ben never called her, nor did he want to. But he didn’t have your manager’s number and didn’t feel like scrolling through your phone to find it.

“She’s not coming in today,” Ben said, without preamble.

"Ben," you tried. Again, he ignored you.

In his ear, Grace spoke your name, both a question and a clarification.

“Yeah, she’s sick. Get someone else to fill in,” he said.

Grace sighed. “…All right, but just so you know—”  

Ben hung up the phone before she could finish. He then tossed it onto the bed. You shot him a wry, questioning look.

“What did she say?” you asked.

“It’s fine. You’ve got the day off,” he said. “Just relax.”

You sighed. Going above your manager to call Grace wasn’t the protocol for taking PTO in the slightest, but you couldn’t help but smile.

You beckoned him over with a hand. "Come 'ere."

A smirk tugging at his lips, Ben came back around to your side of the bed. You pulled him down by his shirt until he sat next to you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck in a hug. Maybe it was a small thing, but sometimes your boyfriend surprised you with the ways he showed that he cared.

“Thanks, baby,” you said softly. You carded your fingers through his hair, rested them at the back of his neck.

“Mhmm,” Ben nodded, rubbing your back again. “I gotta get going.”

“If you must,” you sighed. You pulled away enough to see his face, and something occurred to you. “Oh, can you get me some more feminine pads on the way home? And some Midol, and a new heating pad?”

Ben raised a brow at you. This was where he drew the line. He wasn’t about to be caught dead browsing through pads and tampons in some pharmacy aisle. God for-fucking-bid, some kid would be there with a camera phone. He’d learned about the internet, and it was worse than the tabloids used to be.

But you read the pullback in his face. You implored him with your eyes, and your gentle fingers in his hair.

“Please?” you asked. “I’d do it for you.”

Ben’s frown deepened.

“I’m not the one with the…” He gestured at you vaguely. “Monthly problem.”

You grinned a little. The way he reluctantly phrased it amused you. Despite his deplorable sense of humor, and often vulgar language, not to mention his blatant love of pussy, you supposed his fragile male disposition wouldn’t allow him to say the words.

Period.

Menstrual cycle.

Bleeding from the vagina.

“Exactly,” you countered, and you leaned up to once again snuggle your face into his neck. “Please, baby. You don’t know how much it hurts right now. You really want me to go to the store like this?”

Ben held you back with a terse sigh. You were somehow ready to go to work a minute ago, yet you couldn’t drive around the corner to the drug store?

“Fine,” he groused. His voice was nearly a growl, but you still smiled behind his back. You laid small, sweet kisses into his neck. When you leaned back, you pressed a lingering kiss to his lips.

“Thank you,” you said between kisses. Ben just shook his head when you were done bribing him with affection.

“Yeah,” he dully replied. The things I fucking do for you, said his tone.

He finally withdrew from you to continue getting dressed, leaving you to crawl back under the covers and try to find a comfortable angle to lay down. You used all the pillows on the bed, even dragging his toward you. That one you rested your head on, as it still smelled like him.

Ben watched you settle in out of the corner of his eye, like a cat curling up in her bed. A smile tugged at his lips when you sighed in relief and turned on the TV.

He didn’t see so much pain in your features anymore. You seemed in a better mood, relaxed as you held his pillow like an anchor.

So that’s how he left you. However, it wasn’t until he got to the Supe Affairs building that he saw your text pop up on his phone:

Here’s a picture of the pads I like. If you don’t see them, call me and I’ll help you. And don’t forget the heating pad! 😘

He rolled his eyes in annoyance.

By the time he got home that evening with takeout and a plastic bag (filled with the things you'd asked for), he spotted an empty cup of yogurt in the kitchen.

It meant you’d gotten out of bed at some point, at least. He set down the takeout bags on the kitchen counter and made his way up the stairs.

He found you in the same place he left you: in bed, in your pajamas. And you were crying while watching a movie.

Ben frowned. He stood in the doorway in his supe suit with the pharmacy bag.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. You looked up and finally noticed him.

“Oh, hey.” You paused the movie. “I’m okay. It’s just…Marley & Me.”

“What?”

“It’s this true story about a dog…just, don’t ask. It’s ridiculously sad,” you sniffed and wiped your eyes.

He raised a brow at you.

“Sure it’s not just your uh…situation, making you all weepy?” he asked.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You did not just say that.”

Was he really calling you hormonal right now?  

His lips pursed, but he held up the bag.

“Before you start blowing your top, I got your female shit.” He ventured into the bedroom and laid the bag in your lap.

Giving him some annoyed side-eye, you peered into the bag. You nodded in approval at the correct brand and size of the pads you wanted, and a new pack of Midol. You then had to smile, as he even got you a couple of Twix bars. Your favorite chocolate covered candy.

“Admit it, I did good,” Ben said with a smirk. Your side-eye was begrudgingly amused this time.

“Color me surprised,” you replied, but you still treated him with a genuine smile. “Thanks, baby. This is perfect…”

Though you realized something was missing. Ben’s smirk started to fade as he caught on.

“Wait.” You sorted through the bag. “Where’s the heating pad?”

Fuck, Ben thought. He forgot.

His expression slackened, making you sigh in disappointment.

“Okay, it’s fine,” you said, ripping open the box of Midol. This would have to be enough to relieve your pain (but it never was). Even now, your cramps were starting back up again.

Ben nodded in response. You were no longer looking at him though.

He let out a sigh. Didn’t he get credit for fucking trying here?

Without another word, he started unzipping his supe suit and disappeared into the bathroom for a shower.

By the time he returned, you were nearly in full fetal position. The Midol had only put a dent in your pain. The First Wives Club movie from the '90s was playing on the TV, but not even that could make you laugh, let alone relax right now.

You were truly miserable, and Ben saw it as he got dressed in a clean pair of sweatpants and a shirt.

“Hey, you hungry?” he asked. He wasn’t sure about the last time you’d eaten anything.

You paused the movie and moved your head enough to meet his eyes.

“Not really,” you admitted. “You go ahead and eat.”

Oh, he was starving. After the day he’d had, rounding up another telekinetic that tried to trash Midtown to evade capture, Ben could go for about five burgers. But there was a part of him that…didn’t feel right, leaving you like this.

Still, he needed to eat. He went downstairs and grabbed his meatball sub out of the takeout bag. He also took your sandwich along too, just in case the sight of food managed to make you hungry. He brought it all upstairs and sat next to you in bed. Though he was also kind of behind you, the way you were curled up.

You'd felt when his body dipped on his side of the bed. His presence both soothed and annoyed you. The former, because you did love your man. The latter, because he forgot the most important thing you'd reminded him not to forget.

You reached back blindly, eventually finding his hand that wasn't occupied with holding his sandwich. You placed that hand on your lower back.

"Massage, please," you grunted into your pillow. (Well, his pillow, but semantics.)

He sighed through his nose and a mouthful of meatball.

"I'm eating," he replied.

"What, you can't multitask?" you quipped.

Ben's gaze hardened with annoyance at the back of your head.

Still, he found himself reaching over and rubbing across your lower back. He applied gentle, but firm pressure with the heel of his hand. You sighed in appreciation.

“Thanks,” you murmured. Ben nodded and continued to polish off his sub while watching the movie. He usually wasn’t into chick flicks, but Bette Midler was hilarious, and Goldie Hawn was hot as fuck.

“I got you turkey and provolone,” he said. You nodded.

“Thanks. I’m still not hungry though.”

“Are you nauseous?”

“No…just in pain.”

Ben frowned…until he got an idea. He crumpled up his trash and tossed it onto the nightstand for now, along with brushing off the crumbs from his chest. He grabbed a couple of your pillows and propped them up behind him, against the headboard.

You shot him an annoyed look. “Hey!”

“You’re like a little dragon with her hoard a’ gold,” he remarked, smirking. Before you could start getting all huffy, he reached for your arm. “Come ‘ere.”

“What?”

“For once, just do what I'm telling you," he said. His lips twitched at your narrowing eyes. "I’ve got an idea."

With a loud sigh, you reluctantly (and slowly) uncurled and turned towards him. Ben laid back against the headboard, and he guided you to lay on top of him. You often complained that his skin was too hot at night for summer. Sometimes you woke up sweating.

It was a result of the power that emanated from his chest. Ben couldn’t exactly control the heat; at least, not when he was sleeping. But he was sure you were going to appreciate it more when winter came.

Not to mention, right now.

He positioned you just right, with your knee curling around his hip and your head resting against his chest. His large hand once again soothed against your lower back, underneath your shirt, and his fingers massaged into your skin.

You smiled as you realized what he was doing. You felt the warmth emanating from his body as it seeped into yours. Along with his calming touch, it slowly managed to relieve your pain.

After a few minutes, you let out a deep sigh and pressed a soft kiss to his chest, before you went back to resting on him fully. You couldn’t see it, but Ben smiled.

“Better?” he asked.

You closed your eyes with a soft smile. “Yeah. My new heating pad’s working wonders.”

Ben huffed a bit at that.

Just then, your stomach growled fiercely. Your eyes popped open.

You met your boyfriend's wry look, biting your lip. He smirked and reached down into the bag that still laid beside the bed. He retrieved your foil-wrapped sandwich and handed to you. You took it and happily began breaking through the foil.

Ben looked down at you, both fond and resigned. You clearly had no intention of getting off him. Which meant you were about to try and use him like some kind of makeshift man table.

You eventually took a bite of your sandwich, your eyes lighting up as you hummed in appreciation. You glanced up at his raised brow with a happy little smile.

“So good!” you said, still with your mouth full.

Ben restrained the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he thumbed at a bit of crumb on the corner of your mouth.

“Just don’t get mustard on my shirt,” he said.

AN: Lol I hope you liked this! I had fun with it, even though I don't have a body heater for my cramps. 😭

(It's fine. I bought a new heating pad online. ❤️‍🔥)

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[laurrelise]

one of my favorite parts about that scene in season 3 episode 7 of the umbrella academy is right after the umbrellas and sparrows “contained” the keugelblitz and celebrate by opening several bottles of alcohol and partying, because in every single shot ben is in, he’s either trying to get himself or five as wasted as possible

[uncharted-constellations]

Dreaming about them 🥰

[here-i-am-again-god]

Part 51

pursuing my true calling and being a bal blog for a quick sec

[sebsxphia]

outer range AND salems lot in the same year

[junk-heart]

gitchya gitcha yaya

masky and sally

Don't know why I chose this wierd paneling

[pangolin-lantern]

I can’t wait to be an old woman so I can chastise my grandchildren about not knowing real entertainment while I spout on about random meaningless nonsense.

“You kids these days know nothing about creeepypastas. Ben Drowned, Ticci Toby, Sally, smile dog! Do you guys even know about slender-man? Or Jeff the killer? And Undertale! You kids don’t know the worlds to Stronger Than You (Chara’s Version)! You don’t even know San’s version. And Sanic. And the globglogobgolab. You don’t even know Doge! Or grumpy cat! None of you watched Elsa give birth to Spider-Man’s baby. You don’t know Minecraft diaries or mystreet. None of you watched LdShadowlady’s shadow craft. Animation memes, Gacha life reaction videos, do you kids even know about ao3?”

“Grandma none of us know what you’re saying. please take your pills.”

[skullywullypully]

How many times have I done this meme guys?

[nlhs-foreva]

In KOTLC, they say bronte is extremely old but we never do find out how old he is exactly. I picture The Wise Old Elf from Ben and Holly’s Little Kingdom when I think of him

[bloatedandalone04]

I’ve been into writing for Jake lately, but I’m curious. If I wrote something for Ben (Anyone But You) would anyone read that? I have an idea for a fic for him, but I could easily change it into a Jake fic.

[dontlookheswatching]

Hey Jeffery are ya a homo

Jeff: …I’m bisexual.

[foreverrhapsody]

we're two(? 3?) episodes away from the mid-season finale

there are 4+ other main characters/actors on the show that also need their screentime

Timothy Jimothy Minear-othy has admitted he doesn't plan the individual character beats that far out

he probably hasn't started planning in depth for the 2nd half of the season yet (or maybe they're just starting that process now) which means they haven't secured non-main actors for those eps yet so Lou can't say he's appearing in any further episodes

there are still 10+ episodes left in the season and honestly unless there something happened behind the scenes with Lou or with the network to cause a hard stop to the storyline, I can't see this being dropped purely BECAUSE there has been such care taken up until now (and if something did happen, well, that's that.)

I had something else to say, but I forgot it. Will edit back in if I remember.

OH, I remember! If I was a showrunner and had a new pair that the audience loved and I was writing The Big Drama Show, I'd put them through the wringer too

Mr. Minear-othy might be reading the Facebook comments and cackling at the response to part 1 of his Grand BuckTommy Plan

(I could totally be wrong! This could really be a long-term setup for That Other Pairing! Maybe Mr. Minear was feeling bitter towards ALL 911 fans and Buck will never date another man ever!! Who knows!?!?)

[laurrelise]

au where delores is actually a ghost that klaus told five was following him around when they were young, five didn’t believe him, but out of desperation, he began to talk to her in the apocalypse

every once in a while when he was feeling particularly hopeless he would get a sudden chill, or something would seem to be slightly out of place, and he would believe it was her and get the motivation to keep surviving

and then when the family was reunited, klaus would see a young woman lovingly following five around and trying to show him that she was there, guiding him down the right path

and five would never know if she was real or if he’d imagined her all along, but she’d been there with him his entire life.

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Lightshow snippet :)

I've been trying to write a "spiritual sequel" to Steam and Light for 3 years running. It was to feature BoCo (along with a foul-mouthed relief driver) running a couple of holiday specials in mid-December, appropriately decked out in lights... and trying all the while to feign seasonal cheer. Unfortunately the truth is that he regretted this job one second after he let his malewife talk him into it he agreed to it. The result was to be an offbeat little fic for those of us who have ever worked customer service during the holiday. <3

This is me throwing in the towel on this project - just can't quite get the plot to cook.

However, I hereby offer some snippets for anyone who wants one last scrap of under-the-wire Sodor Lightshow 2024 content.

I also wanted to debut my headcanon that Bill and Ben's drivers play Pokemon Go on the job

"Hold still, will ya? We only turned over your engine so we could see what they look like—it'll be a good half hour yet!"

"A half hour?" BoCo looked at the clock mounted at Wellsworth shed, as if somehow it could back him up. But the second hand just went round uselessly at its usual speed, and the workers kept on with their fussing.

"At least. Don't get your pistons in a twist, lad; there's plenty of time."

"And if you don't hold still," quipped another worker, "I'll break out your Santa hat, and you'll wear it till it's time for your train."

BoCo made a face. He thought it was very reasonable to be restless, seventy minutes into his fitting. As the minutes crept by, and the sting of being made sport of held over his headcode as a threat to ensure good behavior deepened, he began to feel slightly murderous.

He wondered if this was how it was for Gordon and James, every other day.

BoCo rolled towards the platform rather unwillingly. There was still plenty of time before they were due, and he always preferred to back onto his train at the last possible minute, when all was just about ready and the passengers were too preoccupied with boarding to bother much about him. But his driver only snorted that shed staff had not gone to all the trouble of decking him out only for them to hide away from the public, so straight to the platform BoCo went.

"Blimey," cried a half-grown boy's cracking voice, anonymous in the throng. "They sent us the diesel, this time!"

"Ooh, gilt and flaaash," said another, with exaggerated awe.

"Sparkly!"

"I think you're a little confused, Diesel," laughed another, "you got all dressed up, but the girls' school is down in Suddery, innit?"

That was about all the reaction he got. The general laughing and shouting afterwards really all had to do with the students' own affairs, but BoCo did not know this and he felt his face start to harden into a grimace—which wasn't very professional, on a passenger service. To soothe his feelings to something more neutral, he gave a brief growl of his engine. "Is anyone here a diesel," he muttered to his driver, all irony, "and hasn't said anything yet?"

"Take it easy, lad," warned his driver. "No need to get your pistons in a twist."

BoCo glared. The smoking boy was too bold to do anything but smile back, although most of his companions started to giggle and shuffle nervously under the weight of a rumbling diesel locomotive's frown.

But not all of them. "C'mon, don't tell tales."

"Yeah, Diesel. Be a mate."

"Relax... have a puff." The tallest boy, taking the funny little whatever from his friend, made a gesture of offer.

This set off a new round of sniggers, and the engine had had enough. Not breaking eye contact, he gave a honk on his horn. 

"PORTER!" he bellowed, making everyone on the platform jump. Save for the insouciant youthful delinquents before him, who only pulled lazy faces of disgust. "If you would help these boys find their way out of the rain, and into a carriage!"

There was a collective groan and "awwww" from the boys. They began to shuffle, as if heading down the platform of their own accord. But they were such lallygags about it that, for all their amorphous shuffling, they hadn't really made an inch of progress before a porter and a schoolmaster came into BoCo's view, chivvying the boys along.

"Rat-sneak," one of them muttered out the corner of his mouth, as they passed level with the engine's bufferbeam.

"Rustbucket," hissed another.

"About as fun as old Eddie, this one..."

BoCo revved his engine, and finally got a jump out of them.

Though even then they laughed as soon as they were out of sight, unrepentant.

BoCo pressed his eyes and lips tightly shut for a moment. He then largely ignored the scolding of his driver, who had run out in alarm at the racket, and who was now grumbling that a body was expected to man a diesel-electric all on her own these days, even though you couldn't trust any engine alone for a moment.

In turn, BoCo growled protest about the blamelessness of his conduct and, especially, the insults he'd been subjected to—as a rule he wasn't a fussy sort of engine, but no locomotive busts their axles day in and day out only to take being called a rustbucket without a murmur. His driver was not oversympathetic. "Abbey boys are snotrags?" She snorted. "I'll alert the press."

People milling about at the fence grumbled among themselves, and a few even called out angrily to the porter as he made his way back into the station house. “Come on, mate! We’re all freezing our—” The cross passenger looked over at BoCo, and reconsidered. For some reason Sudrians were rather particular about their language around locomotives. “—wheels off.” 

The porter ignored the yells. 

The coaches, playing telephone, relayed up to BoCo (and down to the other end of the train) that the child was “overstimulated,” and Stationmaster had given them permission to board early so that the mother might be able to calm the girl and perhaps get her to nap quietly before the rest of the throng boarded, in hopes of avoiding a screaming meltdown. 

BoCo thought this perfectly sensible, and not much cause for the drama of the other waiting passengers. He explained as much to his driver. 

“They all turn into hags, this time of year.” He could feel the driver giving them a dark sideways glare. “Reckon I ought to stay with you this time, and protect you?” 

“My knight in shining armor,” BoCo said drily, making her cackle with a trace of real appreciation.  More passengers trickled into the station, waiting impatiently for the porters to allow them to start boarding. BoCo eyed the clouds and the clock. The former loomed but continued their progress south-east. He reckoned if they started on time they were likely to miss the rain. He’d be just as glad, to catch one break today.

“Was the day so bad as that?” [Edward] asked at last. 

BoCo’s mouth quirked briefly, albeit he’d expected this. “I’ve had worse. But I don’t know how you stand these things. The Middle Station was awful!” 

“Ah, well. Public school boys can be a little obstreperous, I suppose.” 

“Ob,” said BoCo, stunned. “Obstreperous?” 

“Some of them. Some of them are nice lads, though! Did you talk with Robert and Declan?” 

Aha. “You put them up to that?” BoCo asked slowly. 

“Well! I told them, when I dropped them off beginning of term, to expect you might come to take them away. They promised to say hullo. They did, did they?” 

BoCo smiled weariness. He wasn’t surprised, really. “They’re nice kids,” he allowed. “But I’ve no platform manner, Edward. We all know this.”

“It takes practice.” 

“This is my sixty-fourth year of service!” 

Edward winced. “That can’t possibly be true,” he said, somewhere between wistful and dazed. BoCo raised his eyebrows. “But yes, I suppose I deserved that. Still, it’s not about you succeeding or failing. I knew the passengers were safe with you, and that’s all that matters.” 

“I think Bobby and Declan, or whoever, might disagree.” 

“Robert. He hates being called Bobby.” 

“We... didn’t get that far.”

"Ooh! Ooh! It's true!"

"Give us a blink then, BoBoBoCo!"

BoCo smiled. Zippy and troublesome though they might be, the twins were also inextricably tied up for him in the ideas of home and family and he couldn't be cross to see them…

... saving, of course, occasions where they came into view recklessly pushing around trucks with explosives. 

Or messing with his brake tender.

Or covered in petrol because they had "wanted a taste." (He never had pinned down exactly the sequence of events, there…) 

Right, so maybe there were plenty of times he might be cross to see them. 

A little cheeking off, however, never hurt. Not from these two.

And so, he obligingly flicked the lights off and on again.

"Oooooh," the twins chorused, very still and wide-eyed... for at least a whole two seconds.

Ben whistled.

"You can't operate your own lights," Bill teased Edward.

"No," Edward agreed. "I have to rely on the coaches for that!"

"Do it again, BoBoBoCo!" urged Bill.

"I will not," BoCo smiled. "I mustn't risk damaging them. And what's with the new name? It won't do, you know—I don't have that many wheels!"

"Oh, still the same number of bogies?" asked Bill idly.

"We thought you might have evolved by now," giggled Ben.

BoCo glanced at Edward, who mouthed Don't ask.

The pain appeared to have knocked out [the auto-ballaster] during the wait, which was all the better for her. BoCo felt an orderly's regret when he had finished clearing away the other containers. When it was time to approach the derailed ballaster, the loud grinding of the P-Way crane vibrated the rails - and at least two of her wheels were still touching the track.

She came to with a moan, cross-eyed at first, from her awkward angle. It took her several long moments to blink herself awake and as she was doing so all she could see, amid the darkness, was a looming, growling figure, some shape she had never seen the like of, made up of nothing but blinking flashes of red.

"Uhhnnnnmm," she groaned, in hazy, blinded wonderment. "I'm in hell..."

"No. Barrow."

This time she groaned twice as loudly. "Worse and worse! I don't deserve this, I don't... I wasn't that bad..."

[canirove]

[canary-song]

Ah. So it was a joke then.

(Saying this, I casually reach for a very large rock)