#henry sees his old coach

[warping-realities]

A Better Brighter Future

A brief explanation, this story is a spinoff of Dalton Academy, you don't need to have read that series to understand this story, but you will miss some references. The themes here are also controversial and I need to remind everyone that just because I wrote it doesn't mean I agree with what's happening! Otherwise, a great read for anyone interested!

Director Horace Johnson wasn’t having a good week; in fact, the week he was having was bloody dreadful. The blonde, skinny bloke, fifty years old, had dedicated a good chunk of his adult life to educating young people, finding that calling shortly after leaving university. A staunch defender of human rights and a proponent of positive education, he faced all sorts of problems with reactionary teachers throughout his career, none worse than Ethan Wood, the former PE teacher at King Richard All Boys Institute, affectionately referred to by everyone in the tiny village of Daffodil-Meadow-Over-The-Hill as Lionheart School. However, after numerous run-ins over the three years he’d been the head of that institution, he finally got fed up with the other bloke's speeches, attitudes, and teaching style, and thanks to an anonymous tip about some dodgy behaviour that led to his dismissal, nearly all the students and many of the  teachers breathed a sigh of relief; that sort of hardline, oppressive treatment had no place in today’s world. The one thing Horace couldn’t imagine was the struggle to find a replacement who shared his progressive ideals, not to mention the fact that he had to deal with the backlash from some conservative parents, teachers, and board members. Just another battle they were fighting; he should have known, it was like that when he banned the posh uniforms or tried to authorise the use of gender-neutral pronouns – one battle won, another lost. But he was determined to come out on top again; he refused to put another outdated troglodyte in that position. A better, brighter future was the motto of that school, and he was going to make it happen.

While he was mulling over these issues, sitting in his office with a good cup of tea, his privacy was invaded. With a loud BAM, the door to his office was flung open, causing him to quickly raise his eyes from the document he was reading, only to see the monstrous figure striding towards him. A black man in his thirties, dressed in a polo shirt, tracky bottoms, and trainers, exuding the brash vibe of a sports coach, swaggered confidently in his direction. He couldn’t remember scheduling any interview, and certainly not with someone so rude, who gave off exactly the impression of the type of professional he refused to hire.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to leave this room; I’m busy and we haven’t got a time booked!” he said, standing up and positioning himself beside his desk, noting the absurd difference in build and muscle between the two.

“And since when do old mates need permission to see you, Henry?”

“That’s not my name!”

“I know that, Henderson, you tosser, but if you reckon I’m not gonna use your nickname just because you’re the head honcho of a fancy school now, you’re sorely mistaken. Just wait until the lads on the rugby team find out the Steamroller Henry is all posh now; they’ll be laughing their heads off!”

“Sir, I… I don’t know what you’re on about… I insist you leave!”

“Now that’s the Henry I know, always ready to pull a fast one on his mates.” The man said, slumping down in the armchair opposite his desk. “But enough of the banter, mate. After you got in touch, I did a bit of digging into what’s going on around here, and you’ve got some serious problems. Losing a bloke like Ethan Wood must have been a right kick in the teeth, especially after scrapping the uniforms; they might have been a bit too posh, but they helped maintain a sense of unity and shared identity. Good on you for getting rid of that daft idea of using gender-neutral pronouns. Still, mate, I can see why you need me here. Transforming these crybabies into real men can’t be easy, but don’t you worry; you called the right person!”

“I… what…? I don’t get it…”

“What’s hard to understand, Henry? You need help to rein in this progressive agenda that’s trying to take root here, so you called your old uni mate Blake Ian Garret, The BIG and said, ‘Mate, I need your help with these wankers trying to sabotage me; old Wood is out, I need you for the job!’”

“I… Blake… BI… BIG, then… do you accept?”

“Of course I do, you muppet; it’s exactly what I’ve been banging on about! That whisky you’re drinking is probably messing with your already dodgy brain. I wonder how they let you become a director, Henry; not that I’m complaining, we need more blokes like us in charge.”

“I also wonder how I ended up here; I only became a teacher because that dodgy Wood promised to pass on his job to me when he retired, and next thing I know, I’m stuck in this boring role and now I have to give the job I wanted to an arse.” He said with fake exasperation. 

“Shut it, mate; I know you missed having another real man around here, and while I explain how things work in the place I was working, why don’t you pour me a bit of that drink? I think you’ll love hearing about Dalton Academy.” The man commented, noticing the change happening in Horace Johnson. In a blur of movement, the skinny man’s body expanded in muscle and height, while the wrinkles vanished from his face and his blonde hair started to grow back where it had receded. In less than a second, Henderson “Henry” Johnson found himself grinning, offering a glass of whisky that hadn’t been there before to his old university friend and now professor Blake Garret, The BIG in his realm.

“A toast to the best hire I could have made,” he said, raising the glass to his old friend, who broke into a wide smile.

“To a better and brighter future, indeed!”

…..

The students and teachers didn’t know why they were gathered in the school gym. The summons came from Director Johnson himself, and they knew they had to comply quickly, as the man had a military rigidity about that sort of thing, not tolerating any behaviour he deemed lazy. So, what a surprise it was for everyone to see that it wasn’t Henry Johnson heading to the packed gym.

“Good morning, gentlemen! My name’s Blake Garret and I’m the new PE teacher here at Lionheart. The director Johnson and I have known each other for a long time; we were university mates and teammates, and he’s shared with me his concerns about the behaviour and ideals presented here. This nation is infected, gentlemen. Infected by a parasite called progressivism. Progress should be encouraged, yes, but with proper control, guided by the ideas of our parents and ancestors. Progress for the sake of progress should be discouraged!” He said, striding across the gym floor like a caged beast ready to break free, pausing only to observe the indignant faces of some teachers and a few students who bothered to pay attention to what he was saying. But that was about to change, and it was going to be now. “When Henry told me that the infection was spreading here too, I couldn’t believe it. I said to him, ‘Surely not, Henry, my dear. Lionheart is a beacon of clarity amidst a stormy sea of harmful ideas; the teachers are exemplars of masculinity and manliness, and the students are the pinnacle to which every young man in this nation should aspire; surely there’s no such behaviour here.’ But… but now that I’m here, I see! Gentlemen, my eyes fill with tears at what Lionheart is.” He said, taking another pause to take in the disgusted expressions before finally finishing what he had come to do there. “Tears, yes, tears of pride! For you are much more than I imagined, gentlemen. You are paragons of masculinity, the example of what every man should aspire to be; you haven’t allowed yourselves to be contaminated by the corruption attacking our country from within; you are what gives me hope for the future of our great nation.” He said, resuming his frenetic pacing, and with every step he took, the audience transformed; teachers, students, staff, all expanding in size while ideas and thoughts shrank, casual clothes being replaced by training gear that showcased their muscular and defined bodies, while a powerful funk that only dozens of sweaty gathered men could produce dominated the atmosphere, not that anyone there cared about it.

“That was a brilliant welcome drill, lads; now off to the showers and back to your uniforms for your lessons. Teachers, I ask you to stay a bit longer; I need to know about any absent students today.”

….

Franklin was in deep trouble; he missed the bus to school and had to walk all the way from the village of Grimchurch to Daffodil Meadow, which wasn’t pleasant for a skinny, asthmatic kid. The worst part was that he ended up terribly late for school, and knowing the kind of reception he would get, he thought about just not going, but that would bring even bigger complications, so he decided to face his fate with resignation. He was greeted by the guard, who merely directed him to one of the classrooms where a teacher would speak to the late students and administer the necessary punishment. Sighing with resignation, he headed to the indicated location, but upon arriving, something stopped him from entering the room; some sort of primitive alert resonating within his mind. Peeking through the corner of the window, he saw a teacher he didn’t recognise, a tall and very strong man with skin as dark as his own, talking to Bernard, Vincent, and Timothy, three of the biggest truants at Lionheart, who were looking at him with bored expressions. But then, in the blink of an eye, the unthinkable happened; the boys he had known all his life were replaced by larger, stronger, muscular versions, wearing uniforms and smiling as if they were getting drunk on every word the teacher was saying, words which Franklin couldn’t hear. But then the teacher approached the door, and he could hear the end of the speech.

“… rowing at the end of the day; you lot are to be congratulated, I wouldn’t be surprised if any of you ended up representing England at the Olympics. Oh, before you go, Bert and Victor, you’re in the same class as Franklin Burke, right? If you see him, let me know; I need to have a word with the lad, the same goes for you, Tom.”

Hearing that, Franklin took off running, desperate, not fully understanding what he had witnessed but knowing the risk he was in; he urgently needed to get out of there. In his despair, he didn’t notice that the man had left the room and smiled when he saw a skinny kid running toward the changing rooms.

Franklin thought the safest way to escape the trap he had fallen into would be through the school gym, which should be empty at that hour. Sneaking in as quietly as possible, he finally reached the changing area; he just needed to cross it and head to the football pitch, which would be free from whatever was happening there. But there was a hitch: someone was using the changing room. Quickly hiding behind the door, he saw the stranger swaggering arrogantly through the space. Recently out of the shower and wearing only a jock strap, the muscular Chinese lad strutted as if he owned the place. Stopping in front of the mirror, he admired himself. Who could he have been before? No… no… Lionheart only had one Chinese student. That must be… Anshen? Franklin’s best mate… no… this was a nightmare.

“I can see you there, mate!” said the muscular lad, crossing his arms. “Coach BIG is looking for you. I wouldn’t irritate the bloke if I were you.” He added with a cheeky grin. Having been discovered, Franklin stepped out of hiding.

“Anshen… is that you?”

“The name’s Ashton, Franklin. Honestly, how could you forget the name of the captain of the school swimming team?” he said, acting as if that made him the most important person in the room. Without even glancing to the side, he brushed past that aberration towards the corridor leading to the football pitch.

“Hey, mate, the coach’s office is the other way!” shouted the other lad, but Franklin didn’t pay him any mind. He was running anxiously toward the door that was his salvation. Only to see it swing open and the monstrous giant that was walking toward him with a grin. Between the two giants, he chose to face the smaller of the two and took off running in the direction he had come from, without seeing the smile fade from the man's face or hearing him grumble.

“Don’t know why they run…”

Upon reaching the door of the changing room he had just passed through a few seconds ago, he found it locked. How? Ashton must have locked it. Franklin grunted as he cursed the other lad with every ounce of strength not being used to try to open the door.

“It’s useless, lad. Your fate was sealed the moment you set foot in this school. But you know what? I like you; you’ve got fire in you. Turn around.” The man said with authority, and Franklin felt his body obey against his will. Gathering courage, he faced the man.

“Who are you? What are you?”

“What I am is something to be answered another time. Now, who am I? Frankly, Farrel, that’s no way to speak to your godfather.” Coach BIG replied, seemingly hurt, although a slight tremor at the corner of his lips indicated he was actually enjoying himself.

“What? Godfather? I don’t have a godfather and I don’t even know who you are! And who the hell is Farrel?”

“Farrel is my godson; a lad, strong and sure of what he wants. A man who knows a man’s rightful place in society. He’s a bit of a rogue, the type who’s too smart for his own good, always finding a way to dodge consequences. Except when he’s on the pitch; he’s the captain of the rugby team and takes that role seriously, even knowing his future lies in politics, thanks to the silver tongue he possesses. In short, Farrel is you, you great numpty. Now that it’s just the two of us in my office, come give your godfather a hug.”

“I… what? No…!” Franklin stammered as he felt his legs move on their own and a dreamy smile form on his lips, even as he internally screamed in anxiety.

Anxiety? He never got anxious! At least not off the pitch. There he was a monster, a bull. But off it? Off it, he was the face of relaxation. Chill out and have a laugh was Farrel Burke’s motto! Thought the muscular black giant that few would believe was only eighteen years old. While he put on the school uniform in his godfather’s office, admiring his beautiful body and smiling.

“Farrel? Farrel! Bloody hell, lad, can’t you pay attention for a minute?”

“Sorry, Uncle BIG… I mean… Coach BIG… oops… Professor Garret.”

“If you weren’t my godson, I’d give you a right telling off, lad, and just because I’m your godfather doesn’t mean you can use my office as if it were your personal changing room.”

“If you hadn’t dragged me from the changing room, I wouldn’t need to finish getting dressed here!”

“Is that a dig at my behaviour, lad?” BIG asked seriously, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“No, sir, professor. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” The lad replied, sensing the danger.

“Great. As I was saying, I want to implement some of the ideas I brought from Dalton; while you finish getting ready, let me talk to you about the clubs…”

…..

By the end of that week, BIG’s initial work was complete; there were no more students or teachers left to be improved. The uniforms had returned to being the norm, and all the lads were required to be part of at least one of the school’s sports teams. Moreover, the social clubs had been formed, ensuring that the lads, even after school ended, would have a reason to return to Lionheart and not forget what they had learned there. BIG was proud of what he had accomplished, and those above him were too. Now it was time for the expansion phase, to take what was taught at Lionheart outside the school’s walls and fields. BIG’s approach was different from that taken at Dalton; times were different, and in the war they were waging against those who wanted to remove men from their rightful place, there was no room for the discretion adopted by the sister school. Europe was falling too quickly; it was necessary to be more incisive. That’s why Lionheart would focus not only on creating the leaders of tomorrow but a whole generation of influencers, and sport would be their flagship. And there was no sport more popular worldwide than football. Knowing this, the Lionheart team became a priority for BIG, and he created a particularly talented and charismatic group, but they still lacked a coach of the right calibre. But that would soon be resolved, and quickly too; normally, BIG liked to savour the moment he transformed a pathetic figure into a real man. However, as the mass transformation of the first day showed, when the need was pressing, he acted fast. And that Sunday morning, it was needed again. While the lads prepared for training, the stands of the school filled with students from other teams, but also with parents and locals from the surrounding towns. This would be exhausting. And the cherry on top was the old man walking across the field with an angry look directed at BIG, who returned the scorn before breaking into a smile.

Zachariah Hastings, a member of the school board and a staunch conservative, which in theory should please BIG, but the problem was that the old codger was too conservative. Homophobic and racist, he seemed to boil inside the outdated suit he was wearing at that moment. He indeed represented that mythical figure of patriarchy that the snowflakes loved to point out as the cause of all ills: the white, heterosexual, cisgender man. BIG had nothing against a man who was all those things; on the contrary. The problem was that this figure represented everything that the enemies of the brotherhood of men took pleasure in using to attack. BIG’s group merely wanted to return men to their rightful place in society; they didn’t care about race, religion, whether you were an immigrant or who you slept with. Implicating with those things only created divisions, pushing men away from the real goal. And it was precisely for that reason that Zachariah had to go. Without any fanfare or manipulation, in one moment, the old codger was there with a bewildered expression, as if he knew what awaited him, and in the next moment, a fine specimen of a black man, very much like BIG himself, stood in his place, while every man in that audience became an upgraded ally, and BIG enthusiastically announced to everyone the arrival of the legendary Zeke Hastings, newly retired player from Manchester City and multiple-time champion of the Premier League, Champions League, and Euro Cup, to take the position of coach for the school’s football team, sending all the men in that place into a frenzy of delight, while BIG himself smiled, satisfied that the first part of his duty was finally fulfilled.

**Two months earlier**

Barret couldn’t stop tapping his foot while waiting in the posh waiting room of Dalton Academy; after all, this was his big chance, even if he didn’t understand why an American school would be interested in an English literature teacher. Although the whole place reeked of Old Money, perhaps that justified the interest in him.

“You can come in, Mr. Garret.” A metallic voice startled Barret, who looked around for the source, but found none. Collecting himself, he stood up, straightened his suit, and opened the massive door to the office. What he saw there gave him a sense of strangeness. Smiling and walking towards him in a space much larger than would be possible, was a handsome lad, no more than eighteen years old. Was this some sort of prank by the posh students?

“Come in, Mr. Garrett. Barret Garret; your parents had an interesting sense of humour; I would have certainly liked them…” commented the smiling young man before frowning. “Why the scared face? Ahhh, I always forget these modern conventions; in my day, this would already be the appearance of an adult man.” The young man said, his face concentrating, and then, as if by magic, he began to walk towards an office desk that Barret could have sworn hadn’t been there seconds before. When he reached the desk a blonde, older, and muscular man wearing a slightly less formal outfit smiled at Barret. 

“I think you’ll prefer this appearance, my dear. You can call me Mr. Edgar. And even though I’ve used a bit of trickery to bring you here, since unfortunately there’s no place for you on Dalton’s faculty, by the time we finish our conversation, it’ll be as if you know the place better than you do yourself, and I guarantee the goal I have in mind for you will leave you quite satisfied. Put a smile on that face and step in.” Even against his will, in that incomprehensible situation, Barret found himself smiling and stepped into the creature’s lair.

If anyone who wasn’t an active member of Dalton was watching what was going on, they would have been shocked. But within those walls, it was almost routine. A young, well-dressed black man hesitating in front of a portal, only to, upon crossing it, see his body modify and expand, while he aged a few years, though that only made him even more charming; his slow steps transforming into the confident stride of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. And anyone who knew Blake Ian Garret, coach BIG, could tell that that impression would be correct, though incomplete. BIG not only knew what he wanted but would also do everything in his power to achieve his goals. And those goals at the moment consisted of returning to England to find a way to occupy a position at Lionheart School, which conveniently was established on top of one of the largest dormant power points of the old country, but which only needed a spark to awaken. A spark that Mr. Edgar handed to him, only demanding in return that he use that power to ensure that the occupants of the place, both the established ones and those who would come, and even the unsuspecting traveler passing through, became the right kind of men. The exact type that BIG himself represented.

….

**6 months later**

“Son, I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think. I survived high school; you will too.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to be transferred in the middle of the second year to a school with the highest concentration of wanker athletes that would have certainly made your life a nightmare.”

“Duncan, I understand; I was transferred as well, remember? I need to make friends at work too.”

“Dad, that’s completely different; none of your colleagues are going to shove your head in a toilet or anything like that.”

“I’m sure that only happens in films, Duncan.”

The pair of overweight blonde father and son walked through the corridors of the Lionheart Institute towards Director Johnson. The truth is that even Alex, the father, was not comfortable with that arrangement, but there was nothing to be done; Lionheart was the best school in the area, and he refused to send his son away from him. Duncan was a shy and reserved kid, just like he had been at that age. That school would be a challenge, but any other would be too, and there he would be close by if something happened.

“Dad, didn’t you read the articles I sent you? This journalist, Aaryan Patel, wrote a series of them talking about what goes on here; all the students here, regardless of where they came from, are some kind of athletes; some have even competed in the Olympics. And there’s more; all of them have behaviour described as toxic; some have been banned from giving interviews; some bloke named Ashton Zhang won a bronze medal in Paris but said so much rubbish about the opening ceremony that he almost got banned from competing.”

“Well, then they’ll know what it’s like to have a mathlete among them now! And who knows, you might become a good influence on them or even get motivated to take up some sport; exercise does wonders for a young lad.”

“Says the man who’s never set foot on a court in his life…”

“Duncan, enough! You’re coming to study here, and that’s final.” The father snapped, as he noticed a giant figure approaching confidently down the corridor.

“But Dad, I think Aaryan Patel has a point…”

“Duncan! I don’t want to hear you talking about Aaryan Patel anymore!”

“You do quite well.” Commented the giant black man approaching them, his smile vanishing upon hearing that name. “Mr. Patel has only been defaming the good name of this school with lies and distortions, when what he should be doing is praising the performance of our students in all areas of life. I’m Professor Garret and I believe you are Archibald and Duncan, am I right?”

“In fact, my name is Alexander…”

“Ah, some misunderstanding then.” Commented the professor with a cheeky smile before continuing. “Director Johnson should have welcomed you, but he had a slight hiccup and asked me to do it for him. I thought I’d chat with you, Archibald, while one of the lads shows Duncan around the school. Where is that rascal? Ah, here he comes.” Professor Garret finished speaking without giving Alexander a chance to correct him about the name error, although he himself had forgotten it when he saw the lad strutting down the corridor, almost like a mini version of the professor. Although saying that anything about that lad was mini would be an affront. Broad shoulders and strong limbs pushing the limits of the school’s smart black uniform, made up of a full suit, tie, and dress shoes that must have been tailor-made to fit the boats that were his feet, the overall effect was one of sophistication but also of dominance and confidence that left Alexander gaping and Duncan, who was already fearful, completely terrified.

“Good day, Coach BIG… hum… Professor Barret; good day, sir.” The lad said politely, although a mischievous sparkle danced in his eyes.

“Farrell, my boy. Would you be so kind as to show the school’s facilities to Duncan here while Archie and I have a chat?”

“With pleasure, Professor Garret. Would you be so kind as to accompany me, Duncan?” He said, positioning himself next to the other lad who, although overweight, was shorter and lighter than him, before turning to Alexander with a cheeky grin. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Archie.”

“The pleasure was mine, lad.” replied Alex, again forgetting to correct the name error. “We’ll see you in a bit, Duke.” He ended up saying to his son, who looked at him first with wide eyes of pleading and then in surprise at how his father had called him. But there was nothing to be done, for at that moment the muscular giant lad took him by the arm and carried him down the corridor, while his father walked away in the opposite direction, chatting amiably with the behemoth that was Professor Garret.

BIG entered his office and sat down at the desk, although he hadn’t asked Archibald to enter, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

“So, Archibald Dunhan, that name doesn’t sound unfamiliar to me.” Commented the professor.

“Well, it’s not exactly a common name these days.” Archibald replied, accepting the name as if he had always used it.

“No, it’s not… Archibald, Archibald Dunhan, Archie, Archie Dunhan! But of course! Wall Archie! You could have been a legend at Arsenal, material for the England team, if it weren’t for that nasty injury in that game against Manchester City; but from what I know, your career as a player agent isn’t going too badly.”

“I… I think you’re confusing me with someone.” Archibald timidly replied, still standing at the door. Just the idea of thinking of himself as a former footballer was hilarious. Although he was indeed a die-hard Arsenal fan and risked a few matches with his mates on weekends. No, not that…

“No, I’m not mistaken; you were a leak-proof goalkeeper, you were a wall indeed, Archie; don’t let something that wasn’t your fault bring you down.”

“That accident ruined me, mate…” Archie found himself responding automatically. What the hell was he talking about?

“I know, but managing guys like Haaland and De Bruyne is also a success story. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Believe me, no one has ever accused me of being too humble!” Why would he say something like that???

“Then we’ve got the same problem!” replied Garret, bursting into laughter, and Archie joined in, unable to contain himself, stopping with a startled look only when the other man spoke to him again.

“What are you doing standing there, Archie? Come in, come in; we’ve got Duke’s future to discuss.”

Hearing that name stirred something in Archie; there was something very wrong with all of this, but then he took a step into the room, and everything changed. In a blur of movement and colour, his muscles expanded, height increased impressively, and fat seemed to evaporate from his body. When he stopped smiling in front of the other man, any trace of humility or shame had left his body. He was one of the most successful sports agents in the country; there was no reason to worry about that sort of thing.

“BIG, you’ve got 5 minutes to convince me to bring my son to this school, mate.”

“Archie, you know me you wanker; I can do it in three.”

….

“Take a seat, chubby; I’m not going to give you a hard time.” Said the muscular black lad to Duncan, although he clearly was already doing that. The moment Duncan’s dad and the teacher left their line of sight, Farrel dropped the politeness, throwing aside all false pleasantries, revealing himself to be exactly the type of person Duncan believed and feared he would be. He didn’t show anything Duncan might find relevant about the school’s facilities, leading the lad through some of the many sports facilities on site. They had courts for all sorts of sports imaginable, gym equipment, swimming pools, running tracks, and even a complete weightlifting gym. After the exhausting tour of Jockland, they finally arrived at the spacious and luxuriously furnished room where they were.

“I’d rather stand, thanks.” Duncan said, approaching the window of the room, which overlooked the well-kept football pitch of the institution.

“You know best, but carrying all that weight can’t be good for your knees.” Farrel commented venomously, as he took off the top part of the school uniform with no ceremony and flopped down on the sofa in the room. “But that won’t last long; BIG will have you sweating off all that flab in no time.”

“I wish you’d stop making comments about my body.”

“When you’ve got the physique of a real man, I’ll stop, chubby. And trust me, you will; in no time, no one will recognise you, not even you.”

“I’m fine as I am; I don’t intend to change anything.”

“As if anyone here gives a toss about what you think, lad. I repeat, soon you’ll be one of the lads at Lionheart and won’t even remember the wimp you are now. And even if you did, you’d be ashamed of what you let this society do to you.”

“I won’t let myself change; you can do what you want with me, humiliate me, torture me; I won’t change.” Duncan replied, feeling an uncharacteristic rage and turning from the window, seeing for the first time Farrel’s bare chest, which made him blush deeply, while the other lad shot him an intrigued look.

“Seeing something you like, chubby? You a queer or something? Not that I have a problem with it; It’s an all boys school after all, and the lads have their needs. Besides I know what my body does to others." He said, flexing his powerful muscles as if he was at some kind of obscene show, which made Duncan look back at the window, only turning around when the other spoke again, hitting the target this time."No, no… it’s a different kind of desire, isn’t it? Ever thought about having a body like this? Ever wished for muscles like these?” He conclude, looking distracted for a moment, as if he were reliving an old memory.

“I don’t need that; I’ve got my mind, and it’s more powerful than any bulging muscle.”

“Loooser! I wish I could record this and show it to my new bro when he comes out of you; it’ll surely make him die of embarrassment.”

“I… what?”

“You know where we are, Duke? At the headquarters of one of the Lionheart clubs, my club; not just anyone gets in here, but I decided you’d be one of the lucky ones. I’m the captain of the rugby team and would love to have you with us, but the boss has other plans. Speaking of which, you know what’s even more curious? The club is located exactly one floor above Coach BIG’s office. An office that has a direct exit to the football pitch. That exit, I believe, must have been used quite recently, so while you’re at the window, tell me what you see.” Farrel asked, his eyes sparkling and his voice filled with an uncontrollable mix of eagerness and excitement.

Without really knowing why he was obeying the other lad, Duncan looked outside, initially seeing nothing of note, but then his gaze landed on the pitch, and what he saw shocked him. Professor Garrett, who at that moment should have been with Duncan’s father, was walking across the pitch, bare-chested and laughing animatedly with a blonde man who was just as monstrous and muscular as he was. But if Garret was there, where was Alexand… Archibald?

“I don’t get it? Where’s my dad?”

“With all that talk about intellect, I thought you’d be smarter, Duke.”

“My name isn’t…”

“Duke!” Duncan read the lips of the gigantic blond man more than he heard him speak as he waved vigorously, beckoning him to join him and Garret on the pitch. Why would a complete stranger act that way? Unless… unless he wasn’t a complete stranger.

“No… it’s impossible…”

“Finally, you got it, chubby, although I think this will be the last time I can call you that.”

“No… dad?” Duncan asked, although the man who continued to wave excitedly couldn’t hear him. “What did they do to you?”

“Oh, old BIG has a thing for The gentlemen’s sport; even though he’s never been a pro himself. I’d say we’d put you on my team, and that would be that. But for a former pro rugby player, he doesn’t value us much. He says nothing gets as much visibility as football, and our team is about to lose the captain to a contract, and we still don’t have a worthy replacement. Plus, the old rogue managed to create a connection with someone who can get him the best seats at the games.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You don’t need to understand, Duke; you just need to accept.”

“I can’t accept this… I won’t accept this…”

“Duke?”

“What!?! He screamed back, enraged in response.

“Come over here, mate.”

“I’m not your mate, mate!”

“Of course you are; you’re my little bro; me and Ash were looking forward to finally having our little brother with us! Farrel, Duke, and Ashton, best mates. FDA, like the American agency, and like them, we run the bloody show! F for a lot of food, D for drugs to grow and an A for, shit what is the A again? Let it be A for awesome because that's what we are, mate!"

“I…”

“Think about it, Duke; you want to make your dad proud.”

“Yes…” he replied, shivering at hearing that.

“Then get your arse off that window and come with me to meet him; for you, I’d even play a match of football just to see the old geezers eat dust.”

“Haha, I want to see you try to score on my dad, F! The bloke’s a wall; not that he can stop his son from scoring.”

“That’s what I want to see; let’s go, then.” Farrel insisted, and Duke finally took a step back and went to meet his fate. In an instant, the fat seemed to be sucked from his body as his muscles expanded into a strong and toned physique, far from the giant muscle mass of Farrel or his father after the forced retirement and years dedicated to bodybuilding. A slim and strong body, except for the long, powerful legs with thighs capable of exploding a watermelon if it were squeezed between them. His unkempt hair giving way to a well-groomed cut, the sad, chubby face transforming into a beautiful, almost angelic face, but still unable to completely hide the mischief within him, easily identified by the cheeky smile playing on his lips at that moment.

“Don’t know why you’re so excited, bro; with that size, dribbling you will be the easiest thing in the world.”

“Watch what you say, scrawny boy.”

“This is definition, something a ogre like you will never know what it is.”

“Come talk about agility when you compete with me in rugby.”

“And why would I stuff myself into a game with a bunch of lard arses?”

“Who are you calling fat, punk?”

“Not me, your body mass index.”

“You’re getting quite cheeky there, lad. I want to see you crack jokes on the pitch.” Farrel replied with false irritation.

“When I get past you, you won’t even notice, chubby!”

….

Aaryan Patel was absolutely fuming; he had no idea why his boss at the Independent Herald had sent him from London to that conservative hellhole that Daffodil Meadow had become. And to top it all off, he was heading straight to the epicentre of that rubbish, the King Richard Institute for Boys, aka Lionheart School. A place he had written a series of scathing articles about in recent months, which didn’t mean he wanted to walk into the lion’s den, especially when it was the lion himself who had sent the invitation. But his editor insisted it was too good an opportunity to pass up, and now here he was, walking purposefully along the edge of the grass on the school’s grand football pitch towards Director Johnson, who was at that moment in one of the few empty stands. Apparently, it was a tradition for the school and the surrounding villages to gather every evening to watch some sort of competition from the different teams, and today it was a football match. What didn’t make sense was the question Aaryan kept asking himself: why the hell did Henderson Johnson make him walk across the pitch where the students were parading around with their muscular bodies on display while the school staff prepared everything for the match?

As Aaryan made his way to his destination, he passed two muscular black blokes wearing the infamous light blue polo shirt of the sports team, one of whom was much bigger than the other. The one he wanted to take down the most. However, when the larger man glanced at Aaryan as he walked towards the nearest entrance to the stands, the lad who considered himself a brave man felt his knees go weak. Feeling angry with himself as he watched the two lugs burst into laughter, Aaryan quickened his pace and climbed the stands to meet Director Johnson.

“Mr. Patel, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person after reading the rather vehement words you used to describe me, my school, and my students.” The man said with a threatening smile. But Aaryan wasn’t going to let himself be intimidated; he was indeed brave, and although he was much leaner than the brute, he wasn’t a total wimp; he could handle whatever the other bloke had to throw at him. And any words spoken would receive an appropriate response from his sharp mind.

“Vehement is an appropriate but incomplete description of what I have to say about this place, Director Johnson. And that description could also be applied to the behaviour of the people here, although belligerent might be a more fitting term.”

“And you know a thing or two about belligerence, don’t you? Big guy like you? Bet you’ve had your fair share of scraps, haven’t you, Aaron?”

“The name’s Aaryan! And I prefer to fight with words.”

“Ha, I knew there was a fighter in you; I never miss.” The man commented as if Aaryan's response had been completely different, leaving the journalist confused for a moment. Quickly shaking off that momentary confusion, he turned back to the giant blonde.

“So, Director Johnson, what’s the purpose of summoning me here? And summon is the right word; my editor informed me that you pressured him quite insistently and intimidatingly, I should add.”

“Right, lad, I just wanted you to see for yourself what it’s really like here, what you’ve been so harsh about. You might not realise it, but what you write affects people’s lives, people I care about; my staff and my students.”

“Forgive me, Director Johnson, but the actions of those people you care about affect many others’ lives.”

“You paint us as monsters, Aaron, but do what I asked you: roam about, chat with my students and teachers; there’s one teacher in particular who’s quite eager to have a word with you.” The director said, smiling and nodding towards the pitch where Blake Garrett was watching closely as Zeke Hastings paced back and forth, correcting both teams’ players’ positions.

A chill ran down his spine at the thought of talking to that man. Forgetting to correct the misuse of his name, he responded to the director.

“Alright, I’ll do that, but I don’t think anything will change my mind. I’m sure the teachers are lost causes by now and the students are probably already conditioned to the behaviours taught here.”

“We’re not a cult, Aaron, but if you want a fresh opinion, why not have a chat with the centre-forward for the black team? The blonde lad in number 9. Duke has been at the school for less than a week; see what he has to say after the game.”

“I know how to identify a centre-forward, thanks! And I think I’ll do just that; cheers!” replied the journalist, who until a few minutes ago certainly couldn’t identify any positions.

After chatting with some students and teachers who repeated the same toxic spiel about masculine values, manliness, and the rightful place a man should occupy in society, Aaryan felt drained. Coming here had certainly been a bad idea. He thought about leaving and writing another scathing article about the evils of that place. However, he realised that the game had finally come to an end when he saw the blonde centre-forward walking to the edge of the pitch, opening a bottle of water and taking a long swig that practically emptied the bottle in one gulp. As Aaryan approached him, the lad poured the remaining water over his sweaty hair, then shook it off vigorously just as Aaryan reached him.

“Good afternoon, lad; my name’s Aaryan Patel, Director Johnson told me I could have a word with you.” He said, moving closer to the lad and using an authoritative figure as a reference to ensure the lad paid attention; he had dealt with many of those arrogant lads in the past couple of hours to give the kid a chance to mock him or simply ignore him.

“Eh?” The lad huffed, flexing his muscles and shaking the soaked t-shirt. This was pretty much the expected behaviour from any football player giving an interview after an hour and a half of strenuous exercise. What Aaryan, as any good fan of the game, should have remembered. So he repeated the information to the lad.

“My name’s Aaryan and you’re Duke, right? I want to ask you a few things about the school.”

“Sure, mate.” The lad replied, looking more awake after taking off his shirt and showing off his powerful physique, even though it was clear that not much was going on upstairs. This diminished Aaryan’s hopes of getting any productive conversation, as it was obvious the lad belonged there. Still, he decided to press on; when in Rome…

“So, what do you think of the school? Settling in well?”

“Aaron, mate, this place is brilliant! I begged for nearly two years to come here, but my dad thought I’d have better chances of getting signed if I kept training in a bigger city. It was only when Coach BIG took over the sports department that he was convinced.”

“Um… just out of curiosity, who’s your dad?”

“Haha, as if you don’t know who he is, Aaron, mate! I’m not some little kid to fall for your tricks.” The lad replied, giving a thumbs up.

“What are you on about?” Aary… Aaron asked, confused. But then something worse happened; the lad turned to the middle of the pitch where his teammates were milling about, shirtless, chatting and joking under the watchful eye of the coach, who was in turn under the direct supervision of the head of the sports department, the infamous BIG, who was precisely the person the lad was addressing.

“Oi, Coach BIG! Come meet my mate, Aaron.” And to Aaron’s horror, the man who instilled all his primal fears turned to him, serious for being interrupted, but soon a mischievous grin spread across his face.

Strutting towards the two with all the arrogance in the world, looking at Aaron with the same gaze a lion gives to a gazelle before it attacks, making Aaron’s knees tremble… but why? He should respect the bloke, of course… but no matter how big he was, Aaron could handle him… how? Certainly not with words… hey… what was he thinking here? What intrusive thoughts were those? However, he had no time to fight against those ideas so contrary to his essence because at that moment, the coach was standing before him, eclipsing everything else with his immense physical presence.

“Aaryan Patel, the man of the moment! You have no idea how much I wanted to meet you!”

“It’s Aaron… sir.” He added. The respect for the figure of coaches ingrained in him wouldn’t allow him to respond any other way. But why so much respect?

“When young Duke told me he knew you, I couldn’t resist the idea of bringing him here. But where exactly do you two know each other from?”

“Eh… what?” He had just met the lad, right? But then where did the memories of him teaching the kid fighting positions come from? Fighting? What fighting? In the midst of his confusion, it was Duke who answered.

“It’s my dad’s agency that looks after Aaron’s career, coach. In fact, he’s been following Aaron from the beginning; he’s spent more time at our house than at his own over the last few years.”

“Oh, of course. A cunning man like Archie wouldn’t let a talent like that slip through his fingers.” Agency, what agency? Big-name journalists needed agents, but a rookie like Aaron… mate, in his world, even rookies needed a decent agent; it was the difference between a million-dollar career and retirement in the gutter, and Wall Archie was the best; after all, he had experienced firsthand how cruel that world could be. Yeah, the world was a cruel place, and it was his duty to expose those ills… No, not that, what he needed to do was fight… yes, fight for improvements in society… mate, society was what it was and that was that… in this life, you either lose or win, and Aaron Blink Patel, rising star of the heavyweight MMA scene, was born to win. He earned the nickname for the short time he needed to take down opponents. Which was almost the same amount of time he dedicated to interviews with journalists. He didn’t need many words in his life, being known for keeping his opinion to himself, aware of what the media vultures could do to his career. The only time he expressed his opinions was when he was with his friends, when he let out all the intensity inside him, in conversations filled with cheeky banter and heated praises of masculinity in today’s world. And if there was someone who was the ultimate representation of masculinity, it was Aaron Fucking Blink Patel!

“No… no…”

“Aaron, mate, it’s all good?”

“Of course it is, Duke; it’s just the fighter inside him manifesting, but now it’s just a matter of a blink and it’ll all be sorted.” Coach BIG commented.

“Just a blink…” Aaron grumbled, and then… blink… and… his toned, lean torso expanded like a flower blooming, if flowers were made of huge, protruding muscles and their scent was an animalistic musk, with a touch of spices that didn’t go unnoticed even in that place full of sweaty young men… blink … and his legs exploded in size and power needed to crush opponents… blink… and the years dedicated to reading and research evaporated, replaced by training in jiu-jitsu, boxing, and Muay Thai… blink… and all the pent-up rage inside him flowed out in flowery words in sharp texts, concentrating in the massive paws that were his fists and feet… wink… and Aaron Blink Patel found himself smiling at the man and the lad before him, an image seen only by those the fighter deemed worthy. But he’d known Duke since he was younger than the kid, and after hearing the glowing praise he gave about his new coach, the man earned Aaron’s respect without needing to lift a finger.

“Sorry, what were you saying, sir?”

“You can call me Coach BIG; Aaron is what everyone calls me.”

“Yes, sir.” He replied, causing Duke to burst into laughter.

“You’re a lost cause, mate.”

“Actually, I think Aaron is a great example to follow; I wish my rowdy students had his level of respect.” Coach BIG commented, his voice cutting, making the lad’s smile fade instantly. “By the way, after I speak to the team, I’d love for you to have a word with those rascals, Aaron. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a motivational speech to give. Duke, keep him company while I’m at it.”

“Yes, coach, sir.”

“See? Just your presence has instilled some respect in this cheeky little sod.” The coach commented before returning to the pitch to address the teams.

“Could you not be such a teacher’s pet, mate?”

“I only got where I am because I respected my coaches and your dad; authority figures are there to be respected. Don’t you want to be captain of the team? Don’t you want to be a pro one day? You could already be playing for a real team if you had a bit more discipline since talent isn’t lacking. Take advantage of that man.” He said, pointing to the coach who was animatedly giving a speech. “BIG is a legend, a legend capable of making other legends; it was a scandal to find out a man like him had moved to the States, but the results he achieved with Dalton’s teams speak for themselves. And he brought in fucking Zeke Hastings to train you lot, and your dad to manage those of you who are truly capable of going pro. So yes, listen to what your coaches have to say; you may think it’s just theatre, but it’s the attitude that separates the men from the boys.” Aaron finished, flexing his powerful muscles to the point where the polo shirt he was wearing ripped under his arms.

“Wow, mate! That’s wicked! You’re a beast!” Duke said with such genuine admiration that Aaron couldn’t help but smile and repeat the feat, tearing his shirt even more before returning to a serious demeanor and looking at the younger lad.

“And you know how I became who I am today, little brother? By listening to all the shite my coaches had to say to me!” He said, pointing in the direction of Coach BIG, who was just finishing his speech, raising his voice so that everyone on the pitch and in the stands could hear him easily.

“… because this society wants to diminish you, weaken you. They want you to believe that being a man is wrong, that being what we were born to be is a shame. But they don’t know the power you carry with you, the influence you possess; many of you will be professional athletes, some already are. You’ll be seen around the world, admired, able to inspire, capable of making our brothers, hounded by our enemies, react, and more than that, you can make some of those enemies see the mistakes they’ve made and bring them back to the right path, and for those who insist on their mistakes, you’ll be able to hit them where it hurts most, where they’ve been hitting us for years, and I’m talking about their children; You will shape and save them because you have the power to correct what’s wrong in this generation, then in they do same with the next. The truth is men, and never forget it, you have power! And we’ll use it to secure a better, brighter future!

[karl-jensen]

Henry and the Great Western Fiasco, 1919

This drawing that I made on December of last year was based on Henry's old shape and who built him. To pair up with the drawing, I also made a headcanon concerning Henry's old shape and who built him and it just so happens to be related to a failed Pacific locomotive that a certain railway experimented on.

H E A D C A N O N T I M E .

The Great Bear

Our story begins in 1908 in Swindon Works when Chief Engineer George Jackson Churchward designed an experimental engine that can haul passenger and freight trains. This came in the form of Number 111, also known as The Great Bear. The engine turned out to be a failure due to some issues with its boiler, which resulted in the engine being converted into a Castle-class Locomotive in January 1924. Churchward was distraught at his optimistic ambition being turned into a failure, but when he had heard news that Scottish-born Chief Engineer Sir Nigel Gresley was going to design a Pacific Express Locomotive, he remarked with "What did that young man want to build it for? We could have sold him ours!"

Churchward vs. Gresley

Illustrations of Henry's old shape in the Railway Series featured a brass-tip on his funnel which was common on locomotives of the Great Western Railway meaning that the original illustrator Reginald Payne associated Great Bear to Henry. Hints are present as to why I made Henry a Great Western engine.

Seeing a brass-tipped funnel on Henry looked very odd to me. Doesn't it remind you of the Great Western Railway?

During the design process of the now famous A1 Pacifics of the London and North Eastern Railway, an unknown engineer sent out thieves to steal plans for Gresley's express locomotives. People say that the engineer was old Mr. Churchward who still could not recover from the failure of his experimental Pacific. A Blueprint was stolen, but it wasn't the latest design that Gresley had drawn up, but an earlier design that he drew up in 1915 when the Great War was at full swing. The drawing had a boiler that was quite small which made Gresley think about the consequences. However, a certain Swindon Engineer decided to build it to satisfy his needs. That man was George Jackson Churchward.

And so, the engine was built under the orders of Mr. Churchward. He had placed William Stanier as the technical advisor of his latest Pacific project. Stanier recommended that he redesign the engine and add a larger firebox, but due to Churchward's decisions it didn't happen. The engine was finally built in 1919 and was given a name - and that is Vanguard. However, Factory Workers would often call the engine Henry.

When Henry rolled out of the factory, he was given a nice healthy batch of Welsh Coal for testing. Great Bear wasn't pleased when Henry rolled out and thought that he'll outperform him. When the first trial run came, Henry was steaming properly while pulling a heavy train consisting of twelve coaches jam-packed with passengers. Great Bear envied him, but when Henry was put into regular passenger service, the same problems from Great Bear finally showed up when he was given a batch of regular coal. With this, Henry was deemed a failure and was planned for scrapping. However, when a Railway Director was buying a locomotive (specifically a 4-4-2 Atlantic), he received a Pacific-type locomotive in the form of Henry. His remarks were quite enraged and profanity-filled.

"I wanted an Atlantic. But that stupid, son of a bitch gave me that instead!"

— Sir Topham Hatt I, 1922

Henry was planned to be scrapped indeed, but when the Director saw Henry's sad expression, he had no choice but to give him a chance. The rest is history.

Mr. Stanier's Chance

After Henry's infamous crash with the Flying Kipper in January 1935. He was sent to Crewe Works to be rebuilt entirely. The engine was skeptical until he met a familiar face that he had seen years ago back when he was in Swindon.

"When I first met Henry at Crewe, I was very surprised to see him in such a beaten-up state. I had intentions in redesigning him prior to being built, but that impatient old man [Churchward] did not listen. Seeing him like this made me want to redesign him entirely, but would cost me plenty of money to create a new boiler and frame for him, as well as a new tender. Instead, I went for the cheaper alternative and turned him into a Black 5 instead of what was supposed to be a 'prototype' for the Coronation class."

— Sir William Stanier, 1948 Interview

Sir Topham Hatt did not have enough money to completely convert Henry into a Princess Royal or redesign him entirely. Instead, he decided to turn Henry into a Ten Wheeler. His smokebox and front wheels remained, but the trailing wheels were discarded. Everything else were parts from the Black 5, including his Tender.

"Being rebuilt entirely was a huge blessing for me, and many people sent me 'Get Well Soon' cards and flowers while I was at Crewe. My smokebox and wheels were retained while many of my old parts were scrapped or perhaps reused as spares. I now felt better after that fix up at Crewe, and I managed to share stories with Mr. Stanier, whom I first met in Swindon when I was in my old shape."

— Henry, 1963 Interview

During his rebuild, he met several Princess Royals that were being maintained. Mr. Stanier explained to him that he was the inspiration into building a Pacific locomotive.

"Seeing those beautiful engines made me want to cry, since they told me that I was the inspiration for their design. The Princess Royals were meant to be the success that Mr. Churchward wanted, but failed to achieve. I do envy him and wished that he had the patience to make his dream come true. Great Bear would have seen those beauties."

— Henry, 1963 Interview

The rest is history...

And as for the laconic version or the TLDR:

Henry was designed by George Jackson Churchward as a second attempt for a Pacific Locomotive for the Great Western Railway.

[corvidcrossbow]

would you maybe write some daryl fluff? maybe reader is carols adopted daughter (20ish years old)

daryl comforting reader after henry and how carol acted in the tunnel? maybe r sees carol taking pills n stuff. idk just daryl maybe talking to carol “what about her? henry’s gone but she’s still here!” just daryl sticking up for reader and hugging her n looking after her while carols off.

~•♡•~ What One Has

➳ Summary: Following the Savior war, Carol took you and Henry in as her adoptive children. But through the events of the Whisperer war, your relationship with her became sort of estranged; at least you had Daryl looking out for you (Daryl + Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: Post Whisperer war, around 10x18 + 10x21

➳ Word count: 1.9k

➳ C/W: Mentions of pike scene

➳ A/N: Ima be so fr, I struggled writing this, I think because I wasn't quite sure what direction I wanted to go but I needa stop sittin on this n I hope you like it nonetheless anon 😭🫶 Hopefully now that opening day at my job has passed I can refocus on writing (and hopefully we never have a day like that ever again cuz someone dropping and coding in front of me was not in any of my expectations 🗿)

Daryl groaned an exhale and shifted in his blankets, rolling over onto his back with a clenched fist resting on his forehead. Darkness shrouded his room in the basement, Dog curled up close to him no matter how many times he tried to ward the canine off from dirtying the plush couch by sleeping on it too.

Despite the threat of the Whisperers eliminated, and what he could only hope would be some time for rest, he didn't rest. Sleeping never proved easier no matter how many times a conflict was eased: he knew more would always follow. Especially now, where the repercussions of Alpha and her actions were so grave it shook foundations he'd prayed would stay stable.

The archer threw back his covers, picking himself from the makeshift bed and finding a shirt he'd earlier thrown aside, and a pack of cigarettes set on the edge of his workbench. He tisked at Dog, instructing him to stay while he quietly existed from the cellar, carefully ascended the stairs and opened the front door to head outside and smoke.

Closing it and throwing his head back to clear the messied hair from his face, he paused at the figure already occupying the right side of the steps. In the faint glow of moonlight, he recognized you despite your hunched posture, seemingly trying to obscure yourself.

“Why ya out ‘ere?”

“Same reason you are.”

It was a rhetorical question, really. He knew why, who this was about. It wasn't the first time he'd found you awake in the night as he was, having become an increasing commonality over the past 10 months since you moved here, and increasingly concerning.

Daryl stuffed the pack away in his pocket, coming to sit near you on the opposite end of the step, propping his elbows on his thighs. “Ya won’ talk ‘bout it?”

“It's not really gonna make a difference,” You replied, head bowed to stare at the wooden planks in front of you, twisting a loose thread you'd plucked from your jeans between your fingers.

“Could. Least yer not carryin’ it by yerself,” He tried to persuade you. Although he was guilty of doing it himself, his conscience didn't sit well with knowing those close to him were lost in their own minds like he so often was. Especially you, who he not only cared about, but had cared for. “C'mon, ‘m listening.”

You heaved an uneasy sigh, reluctantly accepting that he was right. He felt like the only person you had at this point. “I miss her.”

Daryl's head turned a bit so his gaze could flick to you then shifted back, nodding – more to himself – understandingly.

“And it's so weird because she's, what… 30 feet away from me right now? Maybe less? But she feels even further than she did when she just up and left to go on that boat.” You paused for a moment, coaching yourself through your breaths and not allowing them to grow erratic. “I thought, maybe after everything at the tower, she'd warm back up to me again. But I feel like the… thing, wore her raw, and then the blizzard froze her so solid she won't thaw back out.”

The man stayed silent, taking in your every word but knowing to speak now would halt the tracing of your thoughts; hinder you from fully opening up.

“Does she think because I'm grown it doesn't have a major effect on me? Henry wasn't just her son, he was like my brother. Families are supposed to be there for each other when you lose someone– and, and then I almost lost her too. I mean, you remember all the pills; how she never left her room. I could hear her some nights, just talking to herself. She was talking to something that wasn't real more than she talked to me!”

Now you were struggling, that choking feeling tightened around your throat and broke some of your words, mask slipping as the weight of everything started to collapse in on you just like– “And the cave. I… I'd never been more scared in my life, being in there with you guys. There's so many times I thought I was gonna die but nothing scared me like that. I still hear all the walkers sometimes, how she screamed, the sound of that dynamite going off. I still feel like I'm coated in dust just–... What was she thinking? I was right next to her. It's like I was invisible, or erased from her memory, and all she remembers is Henry.”

Daryl pulled you to him before you'd even realized you were crying, holding your stiff body against his, and through a few sobs, feeling you relax and give in. His strong arm wrapped around you was the most secure you'd felt in a long time.

“Shhh… s'alrigh’. ‘M ‘ere.” Soothing words were few and simple, but they were what you needed; the reminder that someone saw you, remembered you, and took account for your feelings in all of this.

You scooted closer to him, further tucking your head into his chest as if you were trying to finally find a moment of peace by escaping into his embrace. Daryl rubbed his palm over your shoulder, doing nothing but just being there for you.

A moment passed and you recomposed yourself to some extent, shuffling away with a sniffle while he loosened the hug. His eyes caught yours for just a second, seeing so much of himself reflected in your irises.

“Sorry, didn't mean to…” You trailed off while rubbing your face with the back of your hand, ridding the salty streaks from your skin and gesturing. You turned away, embarrassed from your venting and finding it hard to face him.

“Don't. Whole point'ah talkin’ is so ya ain't bottlin’ allat to yerself.” He quieted again, casting his gaze to you then up to the sky as he fidgeted with his hands. “Had a brother too; from before. Was an asshole, but still ma brother.”

You perked up a little, following his line of sight to the black above you. “What happened?..”

“Wa'salways gettin’ stuck with tha wrong people; last time jus’ cost ‘em. Happened bouta year into this; had tah put ‘em down mahself.”

“I'm sorry…” You swallowed and unsurely nibbled on the gummy flesh of your cheek. Was there ever really a right way to respond to that kind of thing?

“Ts'fine, long time ago. Point is I get how it is tah lose family like tha’, ‘nd ‘ll always listen when ya need it. Ya got me.”

“Thank you… for everything; bein’ there every time you already have. I really appreciate it, Daryl.” Truthfully, you'd flat out needed it. He'd remained a constant when all else altered. “I just don't know what to do anymore. Dad's been so distant too, and if I'm gonna lose him to cancer... I'll need her there for that.”

You licked your lips, taking a shaky inhale and biting your tongue a bit. “Sometimes I feel like all she sees when she looks at me is my head on a pike too.”

Daryl's jaw tensed, fearing you'd confess something like that. “‘Ll talk to ‘er.”

“No, you don't have to do that. I know you two are already–”

“Nah. ‘M gonna. Ya shouldn't ever think somethin’ like tha’. She still cares ‘bout ya: ts'jus’ hard for ‘er, been through a lot.” He gave a gentle squeeze to your shoulder before removing his hand. “She loves ya. Get sum rest.”

You nodded faintly, taking another breath to gather yourself and lifting from the spot to retreat inside, leaving the man to his own solemn nature.

❥-》》—————➣

Daryl often wondered if some things were worth it, this included; begrudgingly agreeing to let Carol tag along with him on what was meant to be a hunt, yet tracing paths back to that long abandoned cabin he would've preferred to add ‘forgotten’ in the title of.

He damned Dog for leading him back there, but figured something was going to push out the full story regarding how he spent all those years in the forest – and at least it opened the conversation for more important ones that needed to be had.

It wasn't ideal; borderline arguing with the woman he'd so casually dubbed his ‘best friend’, who'd been there when he needed her and vice versa. It hurt, but it wasn't all she hurt him for, and he was far from the only one she did.

“I'm sorry for Connie,” She spoke, head bowed and pursing her lips to shove back the tears that gathered in her waterlines. “But I'm not sorry for going after the horde and I'm not sorry for making Alpha pay for killing Henry because I was right.”

“‘Nd tha's all tha’ matters; you bein’ right, huh?” Daryl angled to look at her, keeping his forearm braced against the wooden post. She questioned the depth of his motivations, and he shook his head disapprovingly.

“Ts'ain't all about ‘em, ‘ts barely ‘bout me. ‘Ts ‘bout'cher damn kid; tha one ya still got.” They met eyes for a moment before hers shot away, shamefully avoiding the confrontation. “Ya think ‘bout ‘er in all this? Tha’ what you lost, she lost too? Ya know feels like she lost you? Tha’ she don’ sleep much anymore, misses you like yer already gone, ‘cause ya might as well be … Ya still have ‘er, ‘ts sum’thin’ we can't say fer a lotta people, so quit actin’ like ya don't.”

A painful silence settled, clawing at the both of them as he pivoted away and focused out the dirtied glass plane ahead of him. The archer bit back further words, part of him regretting the harshness of such even though it felt required.

“Ya shouldn'tah come.”; brought Carol's sharper attention back, sparking meaner accusations and disclosures between them – predominantly on Daryl's part – regarding their situations.

She turned around, drifting fingertips over the structuring of the cabin's foundation and sniffling before muttering a few things more and trailing into the other room.

Tension hung heavy enough to keep it mostly quiet, even as they later parted ways while returning to Alexandria, forced through seeming trials; Daryl with his motorcycle, and Carol while attempting to cook.

Once he finally got that damn bike working and rode home, he stifled a chuckle at how the silver-haired woman stood there, disheveled appearance matching his own. The man appreciatively declined her offer for soup, exhausted from his troubles and preferring to just go lay down with Dog.

He followed the shepherd round the house to enter through the front door, watching the cheerful wagging of his tail as he padded across the hardwood and down steps to the basement.

Daryl readjusted his crossbows strap around his shoulder, brushing back his hair before descending. He picked up Carol's voice in the distance, sequenced by yours, and paused to shift his vision for just a quick glance; you perched against the kitchen counter, bowls on the surface, and for the first time in a while, a genuine smile on your face as the older woman came up beside you.

His own tugged the slightest bit at one side of his mouth, satisfied with the apparent reconnecting. He continued his action, setting his things down in his room before partially undressing and flopping back on that couch.

Even if his relationship with Carol remained rocky, granting some stability to yours was enough for him. That was worth it.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Appendix: Assorted Edward Quotes

I am yet again cutting a digression out of my 2+4 essay - this time it's evidence of what Edward is like when Gordon's not bloody around/involved (lol. I want to show that there is a difference!) Notice that there is one example when Gordon is present, however it's when Gordon is at the height (depth?) of his Disgrace Arc and for a couple of months or whatever hasn't said Boo to anyone.

However I will be offering no further analysis/explanation at this time, I just want the quotes here in case I need to link to them. So, just, er... consider this an Edward appreciation post, I guess. Yeah. Those always go over well, anyway. Look, I'll slap a picture on it. We're good.

He waited and waited - there was no whistle, no green flag. "Peep, peep, peep, peep - where is that Guard?"... / Edward began to get cross. "Are we ever going to start?" (1923)

Then the Driver pulled the lever, and Edward puffed away. / "Peep, peep," he whistled. "Look at me now." (1923)

It was fun playing with trucks. He would come up quietly and give them a pull. / "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" screamed the trucks. "Whatever is happening?" / Then he would stop and the silly trucks would go bump into each other. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" they cried again. / Edward pushed them until they were running nicely, and when they weren't expecting it he would stop; one of them would be sure to run on to another line. (1923) 

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

They both rested at the next station; Edward told James how Gordon had stuck on the hill, and he had to push him up! / James laughed so much that he got hiccoughs and surprised an old lady in a black bonnet. (1925-6) 

"Shall I help you, James?" called Edward. / "No, thank you," answered James, "I'll pull them myself." / "Good, don't let them beat you." … "Peep pip peep peep! You're doing well!" whistled Edward, as James slowly struggled up the hill[.] (1925-6) 

"How beautifully you wheeshed him," laughed Edward. "I can't wheesh like that." (1926-1934) 

"Hullo Henry," said Edward, "you look splendid; I was pleased to hear your happy whistle yesterday." (1926-1934) 

"The engines in their Shed were excited and wondered who would pull the Royal Train. "I'm too old to pull important trains," said Edward sadly. (1952)

"Peep! peep! we're late," fussed Edward. "Peep! peeppipeep! Where is Thomas? He doesn't usually make us wait." (1952)

"Do save him, Sir! You've got room, Sir!" / "Yes, Edward, I've got room," laughed the Vicar, "but I don't need a Traction-engine!" / "He'll saw wood, and give children rides. Do buy him, Sir, please!" (1952)

"Hello!" called Edward. "The famous 'City of Truro' came though [sp] this morning. He whistled to me; wasn't he kind?" (1957)

So Duck came to Edward's station. / "It's not fair," he complained, "Diesel has made The Fat Controller and all the engines think I'm horrid." / Edward smiled. "I know you aren't," he said, "and so does The Fat Controller. You wait and see." (1957) 

Edward brought workmen to clear the mess. / "Douglas was grand Sir," he said. "James had no steam left, but Douglas worked hard enough for three. I heard him from my Yard." (1959)

"... So I tried very hard, but I couldn't work properly, and they put me on a siding. I stayed there for days and days. Other engines were there too. I was afraid…" / "I'd have been frightened too," said Edward. (1960)

"The Fat Controller told Edward he was to run ahead of the special train to make sure that the line was clear. /"Does that mean...?" he asked excitedly. / "Wait and see," smiled the Fat Controller. (1995)

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 15 - Star

Duck once had a Friend...

Once upon a time, Duck the Great Western Pannier Tank had worked at Paddington Station in London as a station pilot. Paddington was a huge station with several engines just like Duck who rattled about shunting trains for the big engines to take on long journeys all across the West of England and into Wales. Some of these engines were pompous and rude, while others were old and wizened. Duck’s favourite engine at Paddington however was an old, old friend of his.  

Her name was Princess Margaret, and she was a member of the Star Class of GWR express engines. They were old and wise engines, who though displaced from the top link express services by their younger successors the Castles and Kings, still performed admirably.

Duck didn’t get to see his friend much. She worked trains that went right the way out to Wales and back, and so she would often spend the night at her destination before returning. But when Princess Margaret was there, she would always take time out to talk to Duck. The two were as close as engines could be – Margie, as Duck called her, had taught the Pannier everything there was to know about coaches when he’d first arrived, back when she still headed important expresses like the ‘Cornishman’ and the ‘Cambrian Coast Express’. As she’d been displaced first by the Castles, then the Kings, she’d begun running longer-distances, on lighter-laid lines that the two bigger classes just couldn’t travel on.  

“Margie was still in service when I left,” Duck explained to the sheds one evening. The engines at the Big Sheds had been discussing their lives pre-Sodor – the Scottish Twins had spent several long minutes purely explaining why the Thistle was the prettiest flower in the world, while Percy had spent almost an hour going through all the various parts of the country he’d seen. “I feel like she had a good chance of being preserved too. She even got to cameo in that one movie – the Titfield Thunderbolt!”

All throughout this, Bear had been unusually quiet. The former Western-region diesel had had his own stories he wanted to tell, but now he was slightly afraid of speaking up. Oliver noticed. The Great Western autotank was still new to the railway, and didn’t trust Bear yet.

“Well, Bear – you look troubled. Is something the matter?” he asked. Bear winced, his engine making an odd rumbling sound. All the engines looked over, and Bear shrunk back under their attention.

“When I was being built,” he began slowly, “we… uh… I…” Henry smiled sympathetically.

“It’s alright Bear, we won’t hate you for what you have to say,” he offered. Duck, Percy and the other big engines agreed. Bear sighed.

“Princess Margaret was the last Star Class in service,” he said quietly. “And when I was built… she was… being… taken apart at Swindon.” Bear cut off, looking down at his buffers in shame. Duck’s eyes widened.

“She… she was cut up?” he asked slowly. Bear didn’t look Duck in the eye, staring down at the rails instead.

“Yeah. At Swindon. The men claimed they’d waited four years to see if they could find a buyer… and none came for her. I’m sorry Duck – she seemed like such a nice engine. She just told them it wasn’t their fault, and she’d lived a good life…” Bear rumbled out of the sheds to pull the Midnight Goods before any of the engines could say anything. Oliver looked horrified.

“I… I didn’t think he would be so… torn up about it,” he admitted quietly into the night air. “Oliver, I understand you went through something traumatic,” Percy replied darkly, “but you need to learn that not all diesels are evil. Duck… I’m sorry too. It’s hard learning a friend is gone.” Duck didn’t reply, instead staring silently out of the sheds.

His friend had been a real shining star on the Great Western, who’d served them through two World Wars and kept on going even as her class was torn up. And all she got for it was a cold siding at her own birthplace and a cutter’s torch.

Duck wasn’t sure what that said about Swindon’s legacy, but it wasn’t positive.

Back to the Master Post

[believesthings]

Down The Drain// Ted Lasso x Reader

Summary: After a day of training, you decide to help your boyfriend unwind during his nightly shower. 

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Oral Sex 

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re abiding by the new shorts policy.” 

Ted jerks his head up and flashes you one of his sweet smiles. 

“New shorts policy? What are you on about?” 

You widen your eyes at him in mock surprise, “How quickly you forget, Lasso. You’re supposed to get rid of all your pants and only wear shorts from now on.” 

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.” He chuckles lowly at you. 

You shrug at him nonchalantly, “I agreed for you.” You make your way to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Besides, why would you even want to wear pants? It would be an absolute crime to cover up these legs.” 

“Oh, come on now. These old things?” He jokes, twisting his leg around and in the process, flashing you a particularly nice view of his calf under the fluorescent light. 

He leans in and kisses you and once he pulls away he seems - flustered. He mumbles something into your ear that you almost couldn’t hear. “I might need you to help me pick out some new clothes. I wouldn’t wanna go breakin’ any rules.” 

You reach your hand up and run your fingers through his hair, pushing back the little tendril that has a habit of falling in front of his forehead. “I can do that, baby.” 

He turns his head and gives a kiss to your wrist. 

A knock on the office door breaks both of you out of your bubble. 

“Time for training, coach.” Beard is there in the doorway, he gives you a wave, seemingly unfazed by the PDA between the two of you. 

“I’ll see you at home, honey.” 

You give Ted one final kiss and turn to Beard in the doorway, giving him a little salute, which he returns. 

“Have a good practice!” You yell at the two men behind you on your way out the door.

________________________

“Ted! Are you all alright?” 

There was your boyfriend, standing in the doorway, soaking wet. As he started to undo all the layers, you noticed him slightly shivering. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m alright. I’ll tell ya, we had such a great practice - shoot - training today. On the walk home, it started raining-” 

“Yeah, I can tell. Why didn’t you get a car?” You make your way to him, running your hands up and down his arms in a feeble attempt to warm him up. 

“Well, I figured walking would be good, you know. Gives me a chance to really clear my head and I’ve never minded the rain too much - You know it rains an average of 78 days in Kansas? Henry told me that he learned that in his science class.” 

He seemed to break out of his own rambling with his own mention of his son. “Oh shoot! What time is it? I’m supposed to have a facetime with the little man tonight” 

“Ted - there’s plenty of time until your call. For now, I think we should focus on getting you in the shower, washing this rain off of you and getting you warmed up.” 

He stills, stares at you and seems to be really drinking you in. “Well, now that you mention it, I don’t think I realized how truly cold it was until now and it probably would be nice to freshen up before I hop on the call.” 

“Come on. I’ll join you.” You pull him by the hand into the bathroom. 

Once inside, you took your time stripping him of his clothes that you watched him slip into just this morning. Ted kicked off his shoes and took great pleasure in having you remove his shirts, pants, then underwear. He stood before you without a hint of shame - not that he had anything to be ashamed of. But towards the end of his marriage with Michelle, the physical aspect was no longer really there. Plus, when he got together with you, someone at Nelson Road had made a quip about how Ted would have to work extra hard to keep you around since you would be exposed to all of those tanned, toned and sculpted footballers and he was embarrassed to admit that it bothered him more than he expected. It was quite a long road to unpack those insecurities and you’re both still not completely over your doubts, but over time, you had made him feel so incredibly loved and he hoped he was doing the same for you. 

You lifted his legs one at a time, so you could remove his pants and boxer briefs from around his ankles. You gazed up at him and you swore you could see his eyes darken. You couldn’t help but become heated at the implications of your position. You were, after all, kneeling in front of your naked boyfriend. You leaned into him and placed a kiss on his hip bone. Ted let out a low groan as he noticed your mouth moving closer to his growing erection. His heart was racing at the feeling of your warm breath on him, but when he looked down, you were standing back up. 

You give him a knowing look, “I know, honey. But I promised you a shower.” 

He peeled off your clothing - or rather his clothes that you had snuggled yourself into once you got home. He let his own hands slide over your body. He trailed kisses from your shoulder to your neck as you prepared the running water, getting it at just the right temperature, and then steering the two of you underneath the showerhead. For the first few minutes, the two of you held on to each other while the warm water washed over both of your bodies. You helped him wash his hair, taking great care to massage his scalp and press your body against him. He was running his hands over your back and gently massaging the soap into your skin when you finally broke the silence. 

“Ted?” 

“Mmm?” 

You turn to look him in the eyes. “Would you like me to continue what I was doing earlier?” 

He squints his eyes in confusion at you, taking a couple seconds to register what you were referring to. “Oh - I.. Yes, please.” 

You press your lips to his neck and begin sucking on the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. Ted seems to relax then, accepting your actions and he repositions your bodies under the running water. He doesn’t have a ton of sexual experience in this particular location but he’s heard so many stories about how shower sex can be dangerous because of the slippery surface and the last thing he wants is either of you getting hurt. 

You, on the other hand, seem to show no signs of slowing down. You lick and kiss the wet skin of his neck, running your hands over his chest and down to his stomach until you are once again keeling in front of him. Just like you did before, you run your mouth and tongue over his hip bone. As your mouth works closer and closer to his erection, you put your hands to work, gripping the base of his cock and stroking him. 

Ted groans at the contact and tries to will his eyes to stay open and on you. Partially, because, ever the gentleman, he wants to watch out and make sure you’re not having second thoughts - but also because he was thrilled at the prospect of watching you perform this incredibly intimate act on him. 

You began by tentatively kissing the tip of his erection, not too much but given how aroused Ted was, it was enough to make him tilt his head back and groan. Taking his actions as a sign of encouragement, you start taking less innocent kisses up and down the length of him. After he was sure your lips had made contact with about every inch of him - you finally put your tongue to work. You slowly ran your tongue over his cock from base to tip and back again, which earned you a deep moan from an increasingly aroused Ted, who ran his fingers over your hair as your name escaped him in a rather breathy whisper. This only seemed to spur you on more as you gripped him more firmly and began to slip the tip of his cock between your lips. 

Ted balled his hands into fists and he fought the urge to thrust further in your mouth. He used one hand to brace himself on the shower wall and kept his other hand firmly on you, stroking your scalp gently. 

Ted loved going down on you and did it quite frequently over the course of your relationship, he had told you how arousing he found it, to have his mouth on you and every time you returned the favor, you could easily understand what he meant. There was something about hearing those noises come out of the man you love and knowing that you were responsible for them that aroused you so fucking much. Being in control of his pleasure was definitely satisfying for you and for him. You found yourself moaning with him, the sound reverberating against his cock, which only caused him to moan more. 

You swirled your tongue over the tip of him and could briefly taste the precum. You looked up and were once again met with his darkened eyes peeking out from under his shower soaked hair over his forehead - with his mouth open, gasping and moaning, you watch as he spits out the water that makes its way into his mouth. He gives you a little nod of encouragement and you briefly break away, catching your breath. He was, after all, the biggest man you had ever been with. You knew he was close though so you didn’t make him wait long before you began moving your head back and forth and sucking him off. At first your actions were fairly tender, only really focusing on his tip, but as your actions went on, your confidence grew, and you took more and more of him in, swirling your tongue as you moved in and creating a tight suction against his cock as you moved out. Once you settled into a comfortable rhythm, you brought your hands into the mix, moving the hand you had at the base of cock in tandem with your mouth. 

To Ted, the world had completely faded away. The only thing that existed in this moment was feeling your mouth and the pleasure you were giving him. As your actions became more confident and less gentle, his pleasure became even more intense. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his body in check. Once your hands entered into the equation, he was well and truly, a goner. He began involuntarily pumping his hips forward to meet your mouth. As he felt his climax reaching, he tried to speak to warn you but you seemed to be more in tune with his body than he was. You noticed his ragged breathing and gathered he was closely approaching his end. 

Instead of slowing down, you only seemed to redouble your efforts, bringing as much of his length into your mouth as you can handle. As you felt him thrust in your mouth, you continued to suck and swirl your tongue harder. Ted, threw his head back and groaned. You could feel his cock pulsate as his warm wetness filled your mouth. You began to swallow and were gearing to stop until you heard the words above you - 

“Don’t stop, baby please.” 

At his words, your hands and mouth resumed their previous actions until his hips slowed down and stopped moving entirely. His arms were braced on either side of the shower walls, at this point he was sure it was the only thing keeping him vertical. He focused on catching his breath while you were beneath him, wiping the excess wetness from your mouth. Doing this for him, making him feel this way always gave you a sense of exhilaration that you loved. You took a few seconds to catch your own breath before looking up at your lover again. His eyes were closed this time, but the look on his face could only be described as pure bliss. 

“Was that okay?” you ask in a small, teasing voice. 

Ted opened his eyes and looked down at you on the shower floor, “You kidding me? That was amazing. Out of this world, Darling” 

He embraces you into his chest once again, “Come on, let’s finish up in here so I can return the favor.” 

He rinses you both off quickly and you get to work brushing your teeth, he seems ready to whisk you away into bed the minute you put down your toothbrush but you stop him. “Ah - not yet, Romeo. You have a facetime call with Henry, remember?” 

“Right. Yes -” 

And as if on cue, his phone is ringing with an incoming video call as Henry’s picture fills the screen. 

“As soon as this call is over, Darling, I just want you to know that I am taking you into bed, and I’m going to spend my night taking you apart.” 

Your face heats at his words. “Noted, Lasso. I can’t wait.” 

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

The common thread I've seen in a lot of posts about Ted's decision to return to Kansas is the question of whether he's happier there or in Richmond. Here's the thing, though: in my view, Ted's character arc is not about (or not only about) finding a place where he is happy, but rather learning to coexist with discomfort so that he can be present for the people and in the place that matters most to him.

When Ted is sixteen years old, his father commits suicide. His mother doesn't know how to process her grief or help Ted process his, so she pushes all her messy, painful emotions down under a blanket of cheerful optimism and Ted follows suit. He grows into adulthood unable to acknowledge his sadness or anger, which leads to the dissolution of his marriage. (Ted's reaction to Dottie during her visit illustrates how wearing this attitude would be from the other side.) Michelle asks for space, very likely intending for him to move into another house in the same city where he could do an equal share of co-parenting, and instead he moves halfway across the world to coach a sport he knows nothing about.

Ted builds a community in Richmond, because of course he does: he is very, very good at connecting with people. Part of that is because he's determined not to let anyone get by him who might be hurting, as he says, but he's also clearly a naturally sociable person — there is virtually no way he didn't have these kinds of connections in Kansas. While his life in Richmond seems more "real" to us, the audience, because that's the part of his life we see, for Ted, his "real life" has always been in Kansas. He misses Henry, obviously, but he's also intensely homesick: for most of the show, he fails to integrate to a degree that seems almost wilful; he only tells stories about his life in Kansas and the people he knew there; he goes to a terrible American restaurant in Amsterdam and the first thing he thinks of when he sees Van Gogh's Sunflowers is home.

All of which is to say that while Ted creates some deep and hopefully lasting connections in Richmond, it's not where he fundamentally wants to be. He wants to be present for his son; he wants to live in the state where he grew up and which he clearly loves — and that means facing his grief and anger at his father's suicide, and the fact that Henry will one day grow up and leave him, and the reality of his divorce and his ex-wife's new relationship (although I really, really wish they'd chosen literally any other man to be the new boyfriend if they didn't want to address the implications of Michelle dating their former marriage counsellor).

[lostloveletters]

Still Crazy After All These Years (Bucky Egan x OC)

Summary: It's a perfect Saturday evening in spring, which means only one thing for the Egans: baseball (specifically their son's Little League game).

Note: Fluffy post-war fic of Holly and Bucky being unhinged Little League parents (but we love them for it🥲) Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: None.

“C’mon ump, that was out!” Bucky shouted from the bleachers. “Foul ball my as—butt,” he muttered to Holly, who had three-year-old Cynthia in her lap, her chestnut hair pulled up in twin ponytails that blew along with the late spring breeze.

The mid-May air was heavy with DC’s summer creeping up on them. The swampy, humid season dragged along until he finally reached fall’s reprieve. Spring was perfect, though, with its early season baseball games and cherry blossom festival. 

“It’s ridiculous.” Holly shook her head, her hand in the bag of pretzels she brought along, having carefully broken some into smaller pieces for Cindy.

“Who’s pitching? Is that the Baker kid?”

She nodded. “Yeah, Terry and Lynn’s youngest boy, Danny. He’s pretty good when he’s focused.”

“I can’t see,” Cindy pouted.

“Come on up, princess,” Bucky said, lifting his daughter and holding her on his hip. “Better?”

She nodded, wrapping her small arms around him as best as she could. 

“You know, when you’re a little older, they have leagues just like this for girls.”

“Honey.”

“I’m just letting Cindy know she has options!”

“Where’s Henry?” Cindy asked.

“You see him, right over there?” Bucky pointed at the boy playing shortstop whose dark, curly hair was barely contained beneath his blue baseball cap, a big orange ‘B’ for Bears embroidered on it. All of the local Little League teams were named after some type of animal, and Henry’s game schedule made him feel like he was in the Wizard of Oz with how many lions and tigers and bears were on the sheet of paper he brought home from his first day of practice.

“Henry! It’s Cindy!” she shouted, waving frantically at her brother.

The boy looked up, waving in the general direction of his family. Bucky and Holly had been in the middle of packing up the Christmas decorations when Henry asked them if he could sign up for the neighborhood Little League team that upcoming spring. Holly nearly dropped a box of glass ornaments in excitement.

Watching a major league game, Yankees or not, paled in comparison to cheering on for his own son. Even strikeouts and missed catches made Bucky overwhelmed with pride, because Henry was out there trying, making mistakes he could improve on in their backyard with Bucky’s encouragement to buoy Henry’s spirits if he felt a little discouraged—or got distracted. He had to give the coach credit. Keeping the attention of a dozen six- and seven-year-old boys long enough to teach them how to play a decent game of baseball couldn’t have been an easy feat.

“Out!” the umpire shouted.

Holly clapped as Henry’s team left the field to line up near home plate. “Now we’re talking.”

The kid batting before Henry hit a pop fly and was out before he could even make it a few feet from home plate. Bucky heard Holly take a deep breath when Henry walked up to bat. First pitch was a strike, but the second was almost perfect, the crack of the bat breaking through the crowd’s murmuring. The ball flew into the outfield, landing just in front of the chain link fence that separated the baseball field from the playground.

“Nice hit, Henry!” Bucky shouted.

Holly jumped up, bag of pretzels spilling across the bleachers. “Way to go, sweetheart!”

Bucky grabbed Holly’s hand as they watched their son pass first and make it to second before the centerfielder could throw the ball back to the infield.

“Kid’s a natural,” Bucky whispered excitedly, as all good parents do, adoration filling his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of Cindy’s head. Holly liked to joke that the day Henry was born, Bucky cried more than their newborn baby did, but their son, and later their daughter, too, were the culmination of every hope and dream he desperately clung to for the better part of two years of just surviving. Because of that, he’d do anything for them.

He watched as the inning continued, his eyes on Henry the whole time. The next batter managed to get to first, but Henry flew past third and made a break for home just as the second baseman caught the ball.

“Go Henry!” Holly shouted. “Go go go!”

“You got this Henry! Come on buddy!”

Bucky was sure his heart was going to explode by the time Henry slid to home plate, barely a second before the ball flew into the catcher’s hand.

“Safe!” the umpire announced, nearly drowned out by Holly’s screaming.

“Attaboy Henry!” Bucky cheered.

“He did it! He fuc—flipping did it!” Holly gave Bucky a celebratory kiss, the two of them hardly able to contain their smiles long enough for their lips to meet for all that long. 

The rest of the game flew by. Nothing could compare to the rush of watching Henry steal home. The Bears won by a run, and Holly and Bucky were equally convinced it was thanks to their son. As soon as they found him after the game was over, Holly engulfed him in a hug, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“You did fantastic, sweetie! What a game!” she exclaimed, almost looking a bit teary-eyed when she took Cindy’s hand in hers.

“Look at you! Stole home like a champ,” Bucky said with a smile, pulling off Henry’s cap to ruffle his hair.

Henry smiled, front tooth missing, the first of his baby teeth to fall out. The tooth fairy had left him a quarter to mark the occasion. “Thanks, dad.”

“I think this calls for ice cream,” Holly said, as if they didn’t go for ice cream after every game Bucky was able to go to.

Bucky nodded. “Definitely. Whatever you kids want.”

——

Scoopland was one of the first places Holly had taken him to when they were stateside and he made the move to DC with her. A neighborhood staple she frequented before the war, she’d been excited to bring him there. The place boasted over 20 different flavors of ice cream, and after trying them all over the course of their first summer together after the war, found he liked their Rocky Road the best. Holly was partial to mint chocolate chip, a newer flavor which he thought tasted like toothpaste. 

Bucky walked up to the counter, tasked with ordering the ice cream while Holly wrangled Henry and Cindy into a nearby booth. She had the most difficulty getting Henry to sit down, since he spotted some friends from his baseball team on the other side of the ice cream shop.

“How’s it going Mr. Egan?” the teenage boy behind the counter asked.

“Can’t complain.”

“The usual for you guys?”

Bucky smiled. The usual. He wasn’t sure he ever figured himself to be the type of guy to have a usual at an ice cream place, but parenthood changed a lot of things. Sometimes, Cindy dealt out tea parties and temper tantrums in the same day. Henry got himself a trip to the emergency room just a few months prior while he was sledding on a snow day with his friends and went straight through a neighbor’s fence. He wasn’t sure how Holly managed on her own when he’d go away for work. At least her parents were nearby and took every opportunity to spoil their grandchildren that was presented to them.

He brought the four cups of ice cream over to the table, two in each hand, and placed the hot fudge sundae in front of Henry and tutti frutti with extra rainbow sprinkles in front of Cindy. He gave Holly a kiss as he handed her the cup of mint chocolate chip and snickered to himself when he sat down next to Cindy and saw Henry’s nose scrunched on the other side of the table.

“Listen champ, if there’s ever a day I don’t kiss your mom, that’s when you should be making that face.”

“‘S gross,” Henry said through a mouthful of ice cream.

“So is talking with your mouth full.”

Cindy stuck out her tongue, a distorted rainbow of ice cream and toppings that made Henry laugh.

“Next time, we’re taking you both to the zoo and leaving you there so the monkeys can raise you,” Holly said.

“We’re going to the zoo?” Henry asked. “When?”

“I wanna see a zebra and a giraffe!” Cindy exclaimed.

“How about next weekend?” Bucky looked to Holly for her approval, which was given in the smile that’d begrudgingly spread across her face.

Everything said and done, they made a damn good team as parents. Maybe he indulged the kids a little more than he should have, but Holly did her fair share of it too, letting Henry skip school to bring him and Cindy to weekday Nationals games for the hell of it. 

“Can I go say ‘hi’ to Danny and Paul?” Henry asked, looking over his shoulder at his friends who were waving at him.

“Fifteen minutes, but we’re heading home soon. It’s past your sister’s bedtime,” Holly said. “Don’t climb over the seat, Henry, that’s—” She sighed as he climbed over the back of the booth anyway, leaving a streak of dirt from his sneakers behind him. “He definitely gets it from you.”

“Me? The first time I met your parents, they made a point to tell me how much of a wild child you were,” Bucky reminded her with a grin.

Her parents were gracious enough to let him stay with them until he and Holly found a place of their own, although he was sure her returning with a ring on her finger made it easier for them to welcome him into their home. Holly must have done a hell of a job talking him up in her letters to them, because none of the awkward tension he’d been expecting was there when he first walked through the door to meet them.

Holly laughed to herself as she wiped off the seat with a napkin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Drawing on your bedroom walls?” he pressed.

“Can I draw on my walls?” Cindy asked.

“No. It wasn’t good when mommy did it.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have nice paper we bought for you to draw on, baby,” Holly said.

“It’s not as fun.”

“Sure it is,” Bucky said. “Remember the other day when we drew that castle with the unicorn and the dragon?”

She yawned. “You made the unicorn look funny.”

“Are you sleepy, Cin?” Holly asked.

Despite shaking her head, Cindy rubbed her eyes. She always did whatever she could to push out her bedtime, as if she were afraid she might miss something big if she went to sleep.

“I guess I should’ve asked mom and dad to watch her, huh?” Holly said. “I didn’t think we’d be out this late.”

Cindy mumbled something incomprehensible before dozing off.

Holly laughed softly, “And she’s out.”

“I got her,” Bucky said, picking up Cindy from her seat and placing her in his lap. She immediately curled up against him, and he tried not to think too much about how he wouldn’t know when the last time she’d ever do that would be. Hell, Henry was six and already ditching them to hang out with his friends. He glanced over at his son, face scrunched up in laughter at a joke one of them told him. His smile was like looking in a little mirror. 

Bucky ate a spoonful of ice cream, trying to tamper down the ache in his chest.

“You ever thought this would be how you’d spend your Saturday nights?” Holly asked teasingly.

“No.” Bucky smiled. “This is a lot better.”

[the-cimmerians]

a storytime story. Not my story, it's my friend's, but she doesn't go here so I'm sharing for her. We'll call her Mara. Mara is a high-femme, lovely queer girl from a wealthy family in the southern US, but when I met her she'd been living in California for many years, chugging through her postgraduate education in Women's Studies. She rarely went home, because being at home was always a bit of a fraught experience: not unendurable (because to most heteronormative casual viewers the radiant queerness of a high-femme is pretty much indistinguishable from a quirky beauty queen waiting for the right football quarterback to sweep her off her feet), but still--not the most fun. Yet every once in a while, Mara would have a fit of 'dutiful daughter'-itis, and go home to mend some fences and keep some peace.

Mara's mother had often asked her to come with her to philanthropic events, but Mara had always said no. On this trip, however, Mara's mother had purchased a full table as an event sponsor, and she cajoled Mara into going with her. For those of you who haven't ever attended such an event, they are all different, and yet terrifyingly all the same (and I say this not as an attendee, but as an event-runner for various nonprofits; an event-runner who, fair warning, hates everything about these events, and this part of nonprofit work). There is some form of lower-calorie food (chicken or fish on greens with a very light citrus-fruit dressing is de rigeur, along with some sort of fruit-based airy parfait served in the smallest and most elegant glasses imaginable for dessert), usually an emcee (occasionally entertaining, but always inoffensive to the assembled guests), sometimes speakers (high-profile or famous women on a local or national level depending on the 'get' of the organization in question, or extremely well-spoken young people or teens for youth-serving organizations--with the youth in question being very carefully coached), and an 'ask'--the fundraising portion of the event, where the wealthy attendees compete with the rest of their friends and enemies in the social scene to be the most gracious and beneficent person in the room.

And there is gossip. So much gossip.

Poor Mara knew enough to expect some of this (mostly due to listening to me complain bitterly about how awful these events are), but there were aspects for which she was completely unprepared. Her mother had filled her sponsorship table with all of her closest friends, and the 'social hour' before the event started in earnest was a haze of white wine and a constant stream of excessively perfumed women dressed in full southern socialite chic, coming by the table to air-kiss cheeks and say how it's been ages since they've seen each other and what a darling ensemble, where on earth did you get it? and who does your hair now?--you must tell me, it's simply scrumptious--you look incredible, we really must do lunch some time soon--

...and the moment the woman or women in question moved on, the table, as a whole, in excited, urgent-whispered voices, would drag the everloving fuck out of every single lady they'd just been gushing over.

"Did you see how botched her last lift was? I hardly recognized her--I'm surprised she recognized me, with her eyes yanked back like that--" "so terrible, but she did go to the cheapest surgeon in town--husband has money troubles, you know--"

"Didn't expect to see her here, but I suppose you have to go somewhere to show off that large a collection of paste jewels--" "oh, stop, you wicked girl! But you're right, of course--and she gives herself such airs, like we don't all know--"

"Poor dear looks exhausted--apparently keeping up with her pool boy isn't easy at her age--" "Can't say that I blame her; that Carlos, have you seen him? Of course, she's hardly his only client. I've been dying for a pool, but my Henry just won't--"

"Quite a plucky little attitude for someone whose husband just left her for his twenty-two year old secretary--" "And after she put him through college and law school--I heard she's not even going to get to keep the house. She really should have sprung for a better lawyer--"

"I can't believe she still thinks she can fit into that dress, with all the weight she's packed on--" "Truly grotesque--just ghastly! Seems like last summer at the fat farm didn't do her as much good as one would have hoped--"

::giggle:: ::giggle:: ::giggle::

Mara was horrified, sitting there with a bland, polite smile frozen on her face, with her white gloves and vintage pillbox hat and charming little clutch bag, her seamed stockings and her kitten heels and her classic red lipstick and pin-curls (because in true unquenchable femme spirit, she had taken this occasion as an opportunity for dress-up, an opportunity for fun and play and sexy whimsy--a Gene-Tierney-does-pin-up-girl kind of vibe), utterly unable to see how to extricate herself from this terrible situation.

Another woman glided away from the table, coyly waving heavily-beringed fingers. "Yes, Darling," Mara's mother said, coyly waving back. "See you soon! Kiss-kiss! Love to Laurent!" She sat down and hissed to the cabal at the table: "Ha! Her husband just gave her an STD."

The woman to Mara's left leaned forward excitedly. "Really? Two-door or four-door?--wait, if it was the latest Aston Martin, I'm going to literally perish of envy--"

And that was the tipping point--Mara fled. Walked until she found a suitably divey coffee shop. Had a coffee and a slice of peach pie, and flirted with a soft Butch waitress until the world seemed less dire.

[richincolor]

New Releases for July 16, 2024

Here are the new releases we're watching for this week.

Grief in the Fourth Dimension: A Novel by Jennifer Yu Amulet Books

A moving and unique speculative YA novel about the afterlife and the unexpected connections that can be made in death In life, high school classmates Caroline Davison and Kenny Zhou existed in separate universes—Caroline in one of softball practices and family dinners; Kenny in one of NASA photo books and late-night shifts at his parents’ Chinese restaurant. But after their deaths, they find themselves thrown together as roommates in a mysterious white room—one that seems to exist outside of time and space, shows them their loved ones’ lives on a large hi-def TV, and grants their wishes with a sardonic sense of humor.

As Caroline and Kenny watch life continue to unfold back on Earth, they realize they can influence events through radio signals, psychic mediums, and electromagnetic interference. In their efforts to console their families, they also start to understand the tragic depth of how their lives and deaths were connected and how to help their families—and themselves—heal from the losses.

The Ping-Pong Queen of Chinatown by Andrew Yang Quill Tree Books

Perfect for fans of Ben Philippe and Mary H. K. Choi, this charming, insightful YA novel follows two high school students who form a complicated, ground-shifting bond while filming a mockumentary. On the eve of Felix Ma’s junior year of high school, his parents hires a college admissions coach to help him find a marketable activity. Cynically trawling for extracurricular excellence, Felix decides to start a film club at school.

But then he meets Cassie Chow, a bubbly high school senior who shares Felix’s anxieties about the future and complicated relationship with parental expectations. Felix feels drawn to Cassie for reasons he can’t quite articulate, so as an excuse to see her more, Felix invites Cassie to star in his short film.

While the project starts out as a lighthearted mockumentary, at the urging of Felix’s college admissions coach, who wants to turn the film into college essay material, it soon morphs into a serious drama about the emotional scars that parents leave on their kids. As Felix and Cassie uncover their most painful memories, Cassie starts to balk at opening her wounds for the camera.

With his parents and college admissions coach hot on his heels, Felix discovers painful truths about himself and his past—and must decide whether academic achievement is worth losing his closest friend.

Portrait of a Shadow by Meriam Metoui Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)

A missing sister. A mysterious boy. And a painting that holds the truth beneath its peeling edge…

Inez is missing, but missing things can always be found.

Mae knows this as a fact, even though the police investigation has come to a standstill, even though her parents are moving on. But when she goes to clear out her older sister’s studio, she finds a mess of research and a white canvas that seems even older than the ornate frame it is set in. The closer Mae gets to the canvas, the more difficult it is to pull her eyes away from its mottled surface, its heavy layers of white paint, its peeling top corner she is tempted to pull to see what’s beneath. But she doesn’t. Not yet.

Mae decides to trace her sister’s last steps in the hopes of finding answers, certain that Inez’s disappearance is related to the painting. And she knows she is desperate enough to let the strange boy who claims to have been Inez’s neighbor tag along. Even if his good looks don’t help distract from his avoidance of her questions. So begins a scavenger hunt piecing together what they can find from what Inez left behind. One that leads to centuries-old questions best left unasked and secrets best kept in the dark.

The White Guy Dies First: 13 Scary Stories of Fear and Power Terry J. Benton-Walker (Editor), 

Tor Teen

13 SCARY STORIES. 13 AUTHORS OF COLOR. 13 TIMES WE SURVIVED THE FIRST KILL.

The White Guy Dies First is a powerful and entertaining collection for YA readers featuring thirteen scary stories in which the white guy dies first.Edited by Terry J. Benton-Walker, including stories from bestselling and critically acclaimed Adiba Jaigirdar, Alexis Henderson, Chloe Gong, Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé, H. E. Edgmon, Kalynn Bayron, Karen Strong, Kendare Blake, Lamar Giles, Mark Oshiro, Naseem Jamnia, Tiffany D. Jackson, and Terry J.

[officalroyalsofpierreland]

Wedding of HRH Prince Oliver, Duke of Rothsey & HIH Madame Hortense of Francesim Part 2

Stéphane: Meanwhile, we are seeing King Alexander and Queen Marie-Christine depart for the cathedral from Holyrood Palace. I’m seeing a trend of red today in ensembles! The King and Queen of the Scots are also a union of nations, with Queen Marie-Christine being the younger sister of Emperor David of Pierreland! Travis: So, the two emperors of Europesim are about to be related? Stéphane: That seems to be the case! It is quite beautiful given the levels of mentorship that are between the emperors.

Stéphane: Speaking of Emperor David, his family is now arriving at the cathedral. Empress Katalina is breath taking as always. This is also the first time we are seeing the green sashes and medals, Travis, what are they? Travis: That is the Order of the Thistle, the Kingdom of Scots’s highest order of chivalry. Emperor Napoleon V, Madame Hortense, and Madame Mere were inducted into the order prior to today with Emperor Napoleon IV being posthumously inducted, reportedly at the urging of Prince Oliver. Which is a first in Scots history and to a very deserving man. Stéphane: And Empress Charlotte? Travis: We have been told she will be inducted at a later date, just as Empress Katalina was when she joined the order on King Alexander and Queen Marie Christine’s 20th wedding anniversary and the imperial children of Pierreland who were inducted when they all turned 15. Stéphane: It is an interesting tradition! What are its roots? Travis: The roots stem to the early 1300s, when King David I of Scots created the Order and said that all members of the royal family are granted status in the Order along with “those who share their blood.” Over time, spouses like Empress Katalina and in the future, Empress Charlotte, were granted status in the Order, out of respect for the hopefully strongly forged union.

Stéphane: Absolutely fascinating! Loyalty to family seems to be a cornerstone to the Scottish Royal mythology. Meanwhile we see that Her Royal Highness Princess Magdalena of Lunaria has arrived with the Pierreland family, she looks beautiful in light blue while the Crown Prince wears the summer uniform of the Pierreland Imperial Military Academy, where he studies. The uniform has a white uniform jacket and dare I say, he is walking the line between acceptable and faux paus on this occasion. Travis: A bold choice that is for sure! But I am sure that the uniform was cleared with his aunt and uncle. He’s still a student learning uniform protocol and I think the couple understand that. I do say it does look excellent. It is rarely seen outside of Pierreland. Stéphane: Absolutely, protocol must be followed.  And I do believe that the public can forgive him for wearing white if the bride can! Meanwhile, his siblings are keeping it safe with our first kilt spotting on Prince Henri!

Travis: He has gone for a very traditional look with the kilt providing the majority of the color and a tweed jacket and waist coat. Meanwhile his twin sister Princess Maria Aisha looks beautiful in a light peach color, and I do believe she does have some hair jewelry that is from the Pierreland territory of Oderia which is a lovely nod to Pierreland’s vastness but also her maternal culture.

Stéphane: And we are seeing the first live look at the Emperor and Madame Hortense preparing to leave Aubigny House in one of the state coaches. And she is looking ethereal today in a dress designed by Lady Evie McPherson, a friend of both Prince Oliver and Madame Hortense. Travis: It is the first time we’re seeing one of Lady Evie’s creations on someone else and it is a big moment to have your design debut! From what we can see, I’m loving the sliver accents and the amazing lace work that came from the Royal School of Needlework. Stéphane:  It is also quite amazing that the place where Madame spent her last night as a single woman was named after Aubigny, the single town that the old kings of Francesim gave to a Scottish soldier as thanks for help in war. The historic nature of this alliance is not lost on anyone today!

Travis: And we are seeing the first images of Prince Oliver and his best man, Captain Callen MacDonald. The two servicemen are passing the Cenotaph, the kingdom’s war memorial. Stéphane: Why would Prince Oliver choose a non-family member to be his witness today? Travis: Excellent question! Captain MacDonald or Lord Callen has been Prince Oliver’s best friend since they were wee tots. Granted, Prince Oliver could’ve picked his cousin Prince Magnus but I have it on good authority that Prince Magnus stepped back saying that the best friends should do this together.

Stéphane: Speaking of Prince Magnus, he is now arriving. He is escorting his grandmother Dowager Queen Victoria or the Queen Mum and wearing the uniform of the Blues and Royals which Prince Oliver was seen in at the coronation! Travis: Yes! The cousins share this unit association and it is quite a dashing uniform. With the Queen Mum and Prince Magnus is Prince Dominic who is also sporting a kilt today! Stéphane: So two kilts? Travis [laughing]: Yes! Prince Dominic is the middle child of the Duke and Duchess of Argyll who are now also arriving!

Stéphane: I find it bold that the Duchess has gone for a bare face today. Meanwhile, HRH the Duke of Argyll is looking distinguished sporting quite a lovely beard. Travis: I gotta say, the Stuarts do very well with their beard growth!

Travis: Speaking of Uncles, HIH Imperial Prince Henri of the French and his family have arrived to the cathedral with two of his four daughters, meaning that two are most likely in the bridal party. Stéphane: The two daughters, TIH Princesses Amelie and Armance, were definitely on my short list for the bridal party so it is not a surprise. Unlike Princess Olympia’s interesting choice of dress color.

Stéphane: More key players are making their arrival such as Pope Gregorious XIX who will be the main celebrant today. The Holy Father will be joined by several of the Scots esteemed clergymen such as Cardinal McGregor who is the Archbishop of Edinburgh, Cardinal MacMillian the Archbishop of the Isle of Sky, Bishop McClellan of Rothsey, and Father Andrew Carter who is today’s homilist. Travis: It is quite a swath of clergy doing a once in a life time thing, serving with the Pope. Father Carter especially, quite an honor for this humble paratrooper chaplain.

Travis: And we are seeing that Madame Hortense and her brother, Emperor Napoleon V, have now reached the Royal Mile with their French guard of honor. Stéphane, who are this guard and why is it significant they’re here? Stéphane: Excellent Question! It is the elite cavalry corps known as the Cent-Gardes, re-established by Napoleon IV as his personal protectors.The French guard has it's historical roots in the Scottish-French relationship that goes back to the 13th century with the Auld Alliance. They are Scots cavalry men who are at least 5'11" who are actively serving with the Scots military.

Travis: They are very much like the Pope's Swiss Guard but for the French no? Stéphane [laughing]: That is one way to put it! it is very fitting that they are escorting Madame Hortense on her way to marry into the Scots Royal family, to her own Scottish Cavalryman. Travis: It is very poetic, very romantic and seemingly very on brand for this couple! We are getting a closer look into the carriage at the siblings, an emotional day for them I am sure. But back here at the cathedral, I am hearing the screams of the crowd through the windows. That can only mean one thing.

Stéphane: The arrival of HRH Prince Oliver of the Scots, Duke of Rothsey and his best man, Lord Callen MacDonald. I must say, the screaming is quite intense. Travis: It must be from all the hearts of young women in Scots breaking as Prince Oliver is soon to be officially, religiously, and legally off the market. Stéphane: As long as those are the only hearts he breaks young Travis [Travis laughs] he is looking very regal in his kilt!

Stéphane: Inside the cathedral we see that Empress Charlotte and Madame Mere are greeting the Scottish cardinals. This is very different than the wedding of Emperor Napoleon V, where there was a legal ceremony and then the nuptial mass. Travis: Indeed it is Stéphane. In Scots for those who are religious, the religious component takes precedence over the legal portion where in Francesim there seems to be a preference to the legal portion. I am loving the shades of blue on the Empress and Madame Mere.

Travis: Further up in the nave, we see that Prince Oliver is making his rounds with the royal guests, currently in a deep conversation with his aunt and uncle. Stéphane: perhaps some advice is being shared? Travis: Maybe or a funny story to relax the groom.

Stéphane: And outside, His Majesty King Alexander III and queen Marie Christine have arrived at Saint Andrews to fanfare. His Majesty is looking very sleek in his black uniform of the Royal Aberdeen Regiment while the Queen is looking beautiful in red.Travis: They both look every inch the proud parents.

Stéphane: And now the arrival of the bridal party! The group consists of HIH Princess Armance of Francesim and Lady Mackenzie MacDonald as bridesmaids; HRH Prince Andrew of Argyll, HRH Prince Lenerd of the Ionian Union, and Mr. Charles Everett, son of the King’s private secretary, as pages; and HIH Princess Amelie of Francesim, the maid of honor. Travis:  An illustrious crew filled with people who are dear to the couple. Stephane: And the uniforms of the pages? Travis: That is the regency era uniform of the King’s Highlanders uniform. And I believe we are zooming into get a better shot

Stéphane: On Prince Lenerd no less! The cutest model for the uniform. Travis: It has only increased his cute factor! Anyway, the uniform shares some pieces with its modern counterpart, such as the dark green jacket, the tartan pattern, which is known as the Black Watch, an older name for the King’s Highlanders. Their tartan has become the standard tartan for the Scots military due to its history. And Stéphane, I do believe I am hearing more cheers

@empiredesimparte @simsroyallegacy

[freeworldallahmbaclass]

I got 2018 GQ Man of the year honors shared with me as Henry Goulding thank you to him for accepting that award for us m I've been getting man of the year since 2015 - 2020 then got 2021 , 2022 that one I got from Jail , Time magazine man of the year 2022 shared honors with New York Yankees player Aaron Judge and named the 16th captain of New York City in New york city history thanks to the New York Yankees and Aaron Judge of the New York Yankees 2022 all the while in prison I got those awards true story probably one of the first to get awards and bring the world toward me wherever I'm at and congratulations to my cannabis stores in New York City I sponsor them just pull up in your truck or Benz run in the store where Kay Jewelers was at Down Town Brooklyn New York and buy some weed run in the store get your sneakers from the Jordan store 🏬 then your clothes from Macy's and get you some good weed where the Kay Jewelers was at and do you brother enjoy yourself things are getting much better , anyway this is my schedule for 2024 and imagine a school that teaches these subjects from a black royal couple Jay Z and Beyonce the Carter family .

Roc Nation university

My 2024 daily schedule - Recording artist

school schedule on Roc Nation campus everywhere I go is there campus

My personal class schedule :

Operation management for dummies Small business for dummies Quality control for dummies Retail business kit for dummies Music business for dummies Home recording for dummies Management Branding for dummies

Class upon class and so much subjects to learn this year balanced with staying fresh and getting athletic , just learning academics and athletics after physical fitness training then working and recording music . I'm moving on from this page now hopefully helps everywhere that needs it this is my last post on my social media page .

This page is very true

Very true sponsored by Jay Z , Kanye West , Beyonce Knowles Carter and their daughter Blue Ivy and me their son the new son Allen Henry aka Free World Allah aka SIR we sponsor this page thank you it has been fun thanks .

You are welcome for my help on this page to the people MK Michael Drayton keep your career going we love the music and your style please keep us in tune your music is hot and I support it and I know your fans love your music you going platinum true story your music hot we friends for life love your old brother and friend we will always be brothers to each other friends congratulations on your wifey and all that you doing real good living good music good and stress out of your life he good music good greatest quotes about good old friend of mines , thanks for everything . I believe in sportsmanship playing the game fair I got my second chance and second stage let me play let me compete let me play my sport rap music is my sport and I got a second chance and second stage for it , congratulations to Vado and our mutual friend MK Michael Drayton making his way back to the stage and music recording booth player and coach for real I learned a lot from him when we grew up together his mother and aunts and cousins raised me where family and sometimes sadly that don't change I'm still family to our aunts , cousins , nephews and nieces all in Chicago and New York City and happy to see ESPN announce his return to the stage , music videos a d recording congratulations to Harlemites Cam'ron , Jim Jones , Dave East , MK and it is excluding me this season I'm going left with ROC Nation Jay ordered me to get my education my second chance at that getting my life together I finish that on time I get to play with my other teammates over there at Roc Nation , but congratulations to my old stomping grounds and them make it back to the front of the room and front of the stage and ESPN announcing it that is big congratulations now I go off in my journey and my process .

My story

A beautiful woman got my heart a couple of beautiful women got my heart I think you know them they are famous girls famous women , wish me luck with a good life I'm looking toward my curse being broken so I could do what I love record music either way I am going to record and perform music like my second stage said I rather just do it without this curse on me this voodoo hex I want them off me so olI could live my life in peace but I'm going ahead with my projects later this year and compete that is the only revenge or vengefulness I would of felt but I'm focus and see only good things about me my perspective is fixed about everything about me I finally love me and it is all because of God my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ that is major putting God first in my life now it make life all the more better for me now thank you for letting me share that with you goodbye 🫂 and take care of yourself 💖 .

[sparkarrestor]

Henry The Green Engine 2: Whistles & Sneezes

Written By: Rev. W. Awdry

Adapted By: SparkArrester

Gordon was cross one night at the sheds.

“I’ve pulled expresses for years!” He said, “But do I get anything for it? No! But Henry here makes us cover for his work until he gets his special coal, and now he can’t stop saying how happy he is!”

“Not to mention I was the one that actually fetched it…” Muttered James.

“Coal good enough for me is good enough for him!” Continued Gordon, “ And another thing too, Henry whistles far too much! No respectable engine whistles loudly at stations. It isn’t wrong, but we just don’t do it.”

Henry wasn’t feeling very happy anymore, and looked towards his buffers.

“Nevermind them.” Whispered Percy, “I like your whistling! Don’t let those two oafs get you down!”

That made Henry feel a little better.

The next day, Henry was being steamed up. He felt great, and whistled without really meaning too. Nobody minded except Gordon.

“Remember what I said about whistling!” He called as he left for the station.

Later on, Henry took a passenger train, and presently stopped at Edward’s station.

“Hullo Henry!” Said Edward, “You’re here early.”

“I thought a faster run would help me get in better spirits.” Replied Henry, and he told Edward what Gordon had said.

“Pay no mind to him.” Sniffed Edward, “He’s just jealous. I think it’s great that you’re feeling better, and the rest of us enjoy your happy whistling.”

“Oh, thank you Edward!” Smiled Henry.

On the contrary, Gordon wasn’t smiling. He was still grumbling about Henry as he rocketed down the line.

“I could be going faster than ever!” He snorted, “But that special coal is just for Henry and no one else, not even the pride of the line. Pah!”

And he picked up speed as he rounded a bend and approached a bridge. Some boys were stood on it. Gordon and his crew didn’t take much notice until…

“Oof!” cried Gordon as stones cascaded on his boiler. He whistled in fury and was just about to yell when he found out he couldn’t stop whistling. The stones had damaged something, and he was stuck whistling fit to burst. He was purple in the boiler as he sped down the hill at a tremendous speed. He paid no mind to Edward or Henry as he passed by the station and disappeared into the Horizon.

“...It isn’t wrong…” said Henry quietly, “But we just don’t do it.”

Meanwhile, Gordon screeched along the line, causing mayhem at every turn. People ran out of their houses thinking it was an air raid, 5 fire brigades got ready to go out, and old ladies dropped their parcels. At the big station the noise was awful. Passengers ran for cover as the Fat Controller came up. He barked orders but no one could hear him until he was right in their face.

“Take him away!” He bellowed at last, “And stop that noise!”

Gordon slunk away sadly. He whistled across the points, he whistled in the yard, and he was still whistling when a pair of fitters came to mend him. Gordon winced at the large hammer one was holding. They climbed on top of his boiler, and hammered his whistle valve until it was back in place. There was silence.

“They’ll never let me hear the end of this…” muttered Gordon.

“Speak up, I can’t hear you!” said his driver, who could only hear ringing.

Back on the mainline, Henry was in high spirits.

“Silly old Gordon, whistling loudly. And at a station, no less!” He chuckled as he approached a bridge. The boys were still there, and Henry spotted them.

“Trainspotters, how lovely. They might take down my number!” Thought Henry.

“Peep! Peep! Hullo!” He called, “Peep! Pe-Woosh!”

The boys dropped more stones on him. They bounced off his boiler, hit the fireman on his head, and even hit the carriages.

“What a shame! What a shame!” Hissed Henry, “Fresh paint, too!’

“They’ve broken our glass! They’ve broken our glass!” sobbed the coaches.

They stopped the train to check over Henry and see if any passengers were hurt. The Driver got out the first-aid box and began to bandage the fireman’s head while he and Henry discussed a plan. None of the passengers were hurt, but they were all angry. They told the fireman what he could for his head and looked at Henry’s paint.

“Call the police!” They all shouted.

“Don’t worry about that!” Said the Driver, “Me and Henry can pay them out!”

“How?”

“This new coal burns great, but leaves extra ash in my smokebox” Said Henry, “If enough gets built up, it’ll block my tubes.”

“Henry’s fire draws in air and puffs it out through his tubes with smoke and steam, then up and out his chimney. If we puff hard enough with all those ashes blocking the tubes then…”

The driver trailed off. One of the passengers spoke up.

“So… you’ll sneeze on them?”

Henry and his driver just smiled.

Henry started the train again and reached the terminus. He had to work extra hard to make up for lost time. He rested, and then took the train back. The fireman shoveled lots of coal and Henry worked harder. A group of people were waiting at the station before the bridge. They wanted to see how this would go.

“Henry has lots of ashes!”, announced the Driver, “Please keep all windows shut until the next station, please!”

He turned to Henry.

‘You ready, old boy?”

Henry was too stuffed up to reply, but he gave a wink, like this.

The guard blew his whistle, and Henry started off. They soon came up to the bridge, and there were the silly boys, stones in hand.

“Ready…” whispered the Driver, “Ready… Ready… Now!”

“Atisha, Atisha, Achoooooooooo!!!!”

Smoke and steam and ashes spewed from his funnel. They went all over the bridge, and all over the boys. They ran away, as black as tar.

“Well done Henry!”, Laughed his Driver, “Those boys won’t be causing trouble again!”

“I imagine so!” puffed Henry, “But my paint…”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll clean you off and touch you up tonight, then you’ll be good as new!”

Henry no longer sneezes under bridges. The Fat Controller gave him a half-hearted earful about it.  His smokebox is always cleaned out at the yard. Now, he’s gone under more bridges than he can count, and there are never any silly boys with stones.

[gottagobackintime]

Tedependent (and bi Ted) in season 3 episode 7

We have Ted whistling and being impressed by a man's hair “Look at that head of hair”. Ted and Trent have both talked about Trent's hair before "Because of the hair and the whole vibe?" and Ted's: "You know, they got a big old Ziploc bag full of your hair ties down at the lost and found. You should pop on down, if you still want 'em." As far as I can remember they are the only ones who has ever talked about Trent's hair in the show (correct me if I'm wrong). To compare it to another scene, we have a scene between Roy and Keeley, which is meant to be seen romantically between them where they say this: "Yeah. Woman with the hair." "Keeley Jones, The Independent Woman Magazine." A scene set in the pressroom where most of Ted and Trent's interactions, with a few exceptions, take place during season 1 and 2. She also uses The Independent as a joke about her being independent while still looking to be in a relationship. Which is similar to Trent always introducing himself in the pressroom with "Trent Crimm, The Independent." And Ted and Trent's last scene of season 2: "You know what this makes you now, though, right?" "Trent Crimm. Independent." Hair is also talked about with other couples we're supposed to look at romantically. Roy and Keeley, Higgins and his wife, Sam and Rebecca.

More under the cut:

When Beard is talking about Jane dropping hints and Ted thinks he’s talking about marriage but Beard is talking about pegging and Ted doesn’t seemed shocked or outraged or anything he just “Oh. Well, still.” Ted have been pegged confirmed??? (And then he asks what magazines contains the topic of pegging, just for normal reasons, no big deal). And while pegging can be enjoyed by people of all sexualities, I find it interesting that they brought that up and the "straight man in middle America" isn't at all fazed by that. Not even a double take, just "yup, that's a big commitment", with all the other hints that Ted is not straight... yeah...

“Hey, Trent” “Hello Ted” Now this isn't really evidence, because even non queer people say hello to each other. But I wanted to include it because it's just Ted that acknowledges that Trent is standing there. Beard and Roy doesn't say anything, nor does Trent say anything to them. It's an interesting moment to include, if they hadn't said anything no one would have really noticed. Because you'd just assume that they'd seen each other earlier that day so there is no need to say hello again. But they did include it. It's about Trent being present and Ted noticing it. It's like the scene in the last episode of season 2 when Trent is absent from the pressroom. Ted notices and he stops speaking for a moment while looking worried/confused. Only for him to be happy to see him, even admitting that he was worried he'd been injured. Ted's excitement when he sees Trent in Rebecca's office in season 3 episode 2. We see them talking after the match against West Ham (they could have had him talking to anyone, but he was talking to Trent). It's Trent being the one to notice and the first to acknowledge that something is wrong when Ted gets the text about Henry being in a bullying incident. It's the fact that these two seem to be drawn to each other, seeking each other out and noticing each other.

Ted not knowing what step number four is yet and Trent being obsessed with finding out what number four is. We even get to see his notes about it, something we haven’t seen before. And with Trent's newfound confidence since his talk with Colin, he's being more comfortable around Ted and Ted rewards him with smiling and even a touch to the shoulder (that Trent even reacts to by looking at his shoulder afterwards). Just look at the way he runs after Ted and just gushes over Ted's work as a coach. (Would he have done that pre-Amsterdam, I doubt it.)

Ted talking about people being put in boxes since an early age. (Children are always assumed to be straight and are often told to stay in that box for the rest of their lives). In Sunflowers Colin talks about not wanting to be a spokesperson, he just wants to live his life, to have his two lives combined. But if he were to come out he'd be a spokesperson whether he wants to or not. Because he'd be put in a box, his box would be "gay footballer". What boxes are Ted put into? American? White? Straight? Which one of those boxes are something he could have actually have been forced into? Straight. He may or may not have already realised that it's not a box he fits into. But to have him talk about being put into boxes when we know that he's being looked at as straight by everyone around him, including the TV audience...

Trent asking Ted if he thinks that it's a good idea to use a tactic the boys don't understand and while doing so he's holding his glasses with his little finger out (while we can see the two threads of red on Ted's jacket). Later Ted explains to the team: "In Japanese culture, they have a myth where they believe that all soulmates are connected by an invisible red string. And those strings are attached to each of their little fingers."

"Well, Trent, the way I see it, it's kind of like taking a hike with Robert Frost. It could go either way." That's a very bi thing to say, Ted. Also this poem by Robert Frost: The Road Not Taken: Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

Two roads, coming back to the other one another day, not knowing if you'll come back. Taken a road less traveled and that made all the difference. Pretty queer if you ask me. Especially considering bi people are constantly told to pick one, pick one side and stay there, you're either gay or straight, you can't walk both roads.

Ted feeling the need to express his individuality by growing facial hair. He didn’t go for the beard (because he didn’t want to hide his sexuality aka use a beard because Beard already had that) so he went with a goatee. And then Beard pointed out that he shouldn’t have a goatee right before he was about to walk down the isle (get married to a woman) and instead he went with a moustache. When we think of bisexuality and moustaches, who do we think of? Who do we know that Ted saw perform at Wembley in 1985? "I remember being a little kid, sitting in front of the television and watching Queen perform right over there during Live Aid." Who in Queen famously had a moustache? Freddie Mercury. Freddie Mercury who wrote "Love of my Life" for Mary Austin, his then girlfriend. Freddie who, as we all know later got together with Jim Hutton and they were together until he passed away. Ted has said that he will always love Michelle, because they are still family. He still loves her, but they are no longer together.

Trent running after Ted to excitedly tell him that it's going to work. Telling him how he's noticed what Ted has been doing for three seasons (again, it's about being seen). How he's created a space that is filled with trust and support, something he himself has been the recipient of. Ted has both trusted him (allowing Trent to write a book about the team, having him follow them around even after Trent wrote that article) and supported him (when Rebecca, Higgins and Keeley wanted him to say no to Trent and he said yes anyway, him telling Roy to knock it off with his treatment of Trent, Ted inviting him in to share his ideas).

“Yeah, but he’s our dork.” Ted says smiling fondly. It's about the fondness. Roy is the one who refers to Trent as a dork first, but Ted is the one who turns it into something that is only positive. He's smiling and to him, having Trent be their dork is something that makes him happy. The other two are more like "yeah, I guess he's cool" *shrugs*.

Does this mean that Ted and Trent will get together? No. But I do find it interesting to find all of these small details that connects the two of them. It's the way Trent went from "Is this a fucking joke?" to excitedly telling Ted that "It's going to work!". Ted changed Trent's life, and in a way I believe that Trent changed his. Trent doesn't have a problem asking the hard questions, but he also sees Ted. He can see that Ted is a mess (when it comes to coaching and possibly also on a personal level) and yet he believes in him. He challenges him on his tactics and his way of doing things, but he believes him and the thought of Ted succeeding makes him excited enough to run after him to tell him that he's done something with the team that is going to work. Something he could have told him calmly and in private, but he couldn't wait. He had to tell Ted right at that moment. It's the running through the airport at the end of the movie.

And as for Ted being bi or not. Well, I know that he's referred to himself as both straight and an ally. But as someone who once thought they were both straight and an ally before they realised that they were in fact bi, because they fell in love with a girl... he might not feel ready to deal with that, or like me he knew about his attraction to women in his case, men in mine and so we must be straight, and then just assumed that all straight people think that people of the same sex/gender are attractive.

[thisismysecondrodeo]

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Ted Lasso x Reader Love is a gamble we play and you've got much safer odds [3-part series] (on ao3) - Angst/Romance Between your friendship with Beard and your relationship with Ted, you've got a good thing going in Richmond. Doesn't mean you're not still nervous when Henry comes to town. And it definitely doesn't mean you can hold in your jealousy when it turns out Michelle comes along too.

Ted Lasso x Reader Bad Dreams [2-part series] (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Fluff Tumblr request: would love to read your take on what happens when the boys are on an away game and you're home with the little lasso but then you wake up from a nightmare? i feel like the kid being like his father would make you fall even harder for your little family + sequel: Ted is present for a nightmare

Ted Lasso & Jaime Tartt Jamie's Sick Day (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Fluff Tumblr request: If you’re accepting Ted Lasso requests, can I humbly BEG for some Ted taking care of a sick Jamie??

Ted Lasso x Reader Wedding Day [2-part series] (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Romance/Fluff Tumblr request: Ted and reader's wedding day. Ted standing on one side of the door frame, holding her hand while she works through her nerves not about marrying him (she's never been more sure she wants to marry him) but more about accidentally tripping, or that her dress isn't nice enough, what is the press going to say + sequel: what about the angst of the roles being reversed?

Ted Lasso x Reader Missing/Wanted (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Angst/Romance Tumblr request: Can I request a Ted × Reader angsty fic where Ted and reader both have had an awful few days and they misdirect their anger towards each other, they both say a few things to each other which they really don't mean and one of them just storms out and then the other sort of spends the whole night finding them unsuccessfully....

Ted Lasso x Reader Baby it's Cold Outside (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Fluff Tumblr request: It has been super cold outside, so naturally I’ve been thinking about Ted warming Y/N up after they come in from outside (absolutely freezing). He seems like the kind of guy to have a lot of body warmth 🔥

Coach Beard x Trent Crimm Men of Mystery (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Romance Based on a Tumblr Drawing: Trent Crimm locks his keys in his car. Beard knows what to do about that.

Ted Lasso x Reader Home for the Holidays (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Romance Tumblr request: i know ted says he and michelle have been together since high school but can we please see "My family invited an old friend for the holidays and they're my first love"?

Ted Lasso x Reader Loved and Cherished (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Romance/Fluff Tumblr Request: I'm having post episode feels. What about just finding ways to cheer Ted up and telling him how much you love and cherish him

T-----------------------------------------------

Ted Lasso x Reader Fightin' Words (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Romance Tumblr request: Sleeping with Other People inspired—ted punching someone to defend his love??? we need your take on that pretty please??? and they being the only one that gets him to take a step back??? so beard is like....wait...you're down bad, my friend.

Ted Lasso x Reader Medication (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Hurt/Comfort Tumblr request: I was hoping you might write a blurb about Ted finding out that his partner is medicated when she stays with him the first time and just not wanting her to feel bad about having to take medication for her mental health

Ted Lasso x Reader The Breakup (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Angst/Romance Tumblr request: i'm in desperate need of you writing a blurb where the reader panics over the fact they are sure ted is about to break up with them (he is not) and he calms them down and its sweet and loving and he stays. name your price, my friend.

Ted Lasso x Reader Sick Fic (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Light Hurt Comfort Tumblr request: Ted helping his partner feel better when they're sick.

Ted Lasso x Reader Too Needy (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Angst/Romance Tumblr request: Ted's partner is worried about being too needy for him, which is a feeling Ted understands all too well

Ted Lasso x Reader Tickle-Me-Ted (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Fluff Tumblr request: thinking about ted holding something out of y/n’s reach to tease her, so she tickles him and he starts giggling and blushing

Ted Lasso x Reader Faint of Heart (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Hurt/Comfort Tumblr request: I had a fainting spell at work today and it was scary because people helped but then I was alone...I was wondering if you could write for Ted or Jason when the reader fainted at work in front of him?

Ted Lasso x Reader Striptease (Tumblr Only) - Romance/Fluff Tumblr Request: ted doing a striptease to pony by ginuwine

Ted Lasso x Reader Camping Codependency (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Fluff Tumblr request: just imagined ted and reader taking the Richmond team on a team-building adventure (camping). Ted and reader share a tent, but obviously have to be suuuuuuuuper quiet while they get down to it…

Ted Lasso x Reader High for Hallmark (Tumblr Only because its so short) - Romance Tumblr Request: Just finished episode 2 & I just know that Jason loves hallmark movies just like Theodore is it too much to smoke a bit and chill on the couch watching cheesy Christmas rom coms nowhere near Christmas with him?

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Ted Lasso x Rebecca The Oh Moment [2-part series] (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Romance/Light Smut Based on this tumblr post: the "oh. oh." moment in fan fic but instead of a character realizing they're in love it's them discovering they have a specific kink at the worst possible moment. Part 1 has Rebecca taking part in a team tradition, and Part 2 Ted experiences a dinner gone wrong...or right?

Ted Lasso x Reader Crushin' (on) You (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Romance/Light Smut Tumblr Request: Thinking about ted tying me up 😶 or ted laying on top of me. His slutty forearms and his strong thighs. Sigh. horny ted thoughts

Ted Lasso x Reader Touch Tank (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Romance/Light Smut Tumblr Request: would you consider writing a ted/reader fic where an extremely touch-starved reader is fascinated with ted's hands and playfully baits him into tickling them? those hands teasing and kneading in search of the best ticklish spots

Ted Lasso x Reader Crushin' (on) You (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Romance/Light Smut Tumblr Request: Thinking about ted tying me up 😶 or ted laying on top of me. His slutty forearms and his strong thighs. Sigh. horny ted thoughts

Ted Lasso x Reader Touch Tank (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Romance/Light Smut Tumblr Request: would you consider writing a ted/reader fic where an extremely touch-starved reader is fascinated with ted's hands and playfully baits him into tickling them? those hands teasing and kneading in search of the best ticklish spots

Ted Lasso x Reader Aftercare (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Romance/Referenced Smut Tumblr Request: sub Ted needs reader (any gender) to provide lots of fluffy aftercare

Ted Lasso x Reader Vacation Bae (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Romance/Light Smut Tumblr Request: obsessed with thinking about how ted would react to seeing y/n in more revealing clothes for the first time; short shorts, a crop top, a bikini, maybe some lingerie that y/n picked out just for him

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Ted Lasso x Reader Getting Ready [4-part series] (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Smut Tumblr request: Imagine how sweet and spicy getting ready for an event with Ted could be! + sequel: Dom Jason × Sub reader smut would be so hot if you're comfortable with that and then Jason being so adorably cute and caring during the aftercare + triology: D/S dynamics outside of the bedroom + Bonus chapter 4 I forgot about lol

Ted Lasso x Reader Operation Seduce Ted (on ao3) - Smut You've been dating Ted for a while and things seem like they're going well...so why haven't you slept together? Enter Operation Seduce Ted.

Ted Lasso x Reader Healing Hands (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Smut Tumblr request: ted giving y/n a massage?

Ted Lasso x Reader Hot Chocolate (Tumblr Only) - Smut Tumblr request: Y/N and ted are having a nice cup of hot chocolate on his sofa when he spills his cup all over himself 🤭 not to worry though, because he takes his shirt off to deal with the stain… which heats things up,,, mmmh shirtless ted

Ted Lasso x Reader School Daze [5-part series] (consolidated on ao3) - Fluff/Smut/Angst Tumblr request: what if reader went to college w ted (before he met michelle) just someone he casually knew from class and had a crush but never did anything and they run into each other all those years later in richmond and they talk about how they both liked each other but never said anything

Ted Lasso x Reader A Little Tied Up (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Smut Tumblr request: Cannot I humbly ask for Ted being tied down on the bed for reader to use as she wishes for the night?

Ted Lasso x Reader Hit the Showers (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Romance/Smut Tumblr Request: i am DYING to read some facesitting with ted. i’m thinking the reader is super hesitant at first when ted suggests it, but he soon wins her around, especially with the feel of that amazing moustache

Ted Lasso x Reader Hush Your Butt [2-part series] (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Romance/Light Smut Tumblr Request: thinking about ted worshipping y/n’s body

Ted Lasso x Reader This Seat Taken? [2-part series] (Tumblr Drabbles Series on ao3) - Romance/Smut Tumblr Request: sitting on Ted’s lap in public (maybe at a party) and moving around to tease him 😈

Ted Lasso x Reader Full Stop (Tumblr Drabble Series on ao3) - Romance/Smut Tumblr Request: Do you think you would be up for writing some super soft period sex with Ted Lasso? 👉🏻👈🏻

All Multi-Chapter Fics ->

Back to the Masterlist ->

[kellyvela]

Sophie's Hon 💋

If you want to know more about the guy Sophie Turner is smooching lately, you know, that very tall, very very rich, British aristocrat with a fantasy novel name, this post is for you . . . . lol

His full name is The Hon Peregrine John Dickinson Pearson, but he goes by “Perry.” And the photo above is his company profile picture.

Born on October 27th, 1994, he's 29 years old and the future 5th Viscount Cowdray.

Perry is from Midhurst, West Sussex, and now lives in a £5million house in Chelsea, West London.

The Hon before his name means The Honourable, a title used for all sons and daughters of viscounts and barons. Hon also works for 'honey' and 'sweetheart', hence this post's title.

Peregrine may come from Henry Winston Peregrine Spencer-Churchill, nephew of former Prime Minister of the United Kingdom Sir Winston (Leonard Spencer) Churchill.

Yes, Churchill, you read it right! Perry's grandfather Weetman John Churchill Pearson, 3rd Viscount Cowdray, was the son of Agnes Beryl Spencer-Churchill, who was the granddaughter of George Spencer-Churchill, 6th Duke of Marlborough.

So Perry is distant related to Winston Churchill and Diana Spencer, The Lady D . . . . In fact, he has already introduced Sophie to some of the current Spencer-Churchills (they are cousins with Perry, I guess 🤷‍♀️).

Now, I have no idea why his parents opted to name him Peregrine over Weetman, since each of the four former Viscounts Cowdray were all named Weetman; but his peculiar fantasy novel/bird-like name inmmediately made me think of House Arryn and Harry Hardyng. More on this later.

But since he's not named Weetman, he fixed that by naming his own property investment and development company 'Weetman'.

John is for both grandfathers: Weetman John Churchill Pearson, 3rd Viscount Cowdray, and John Howard Cordle. 

Dickinson is for his great-great-grandfather: Weetman Dickinson Pearson, 1st Viscount Cowdray.

~~~

Family

The seat of the Pearson Family is Cowdray Estate, Cowdray Park, Midhurst, West Sussex. The picture of the family above was taken at Buck Hall, the atrium of Cowdray House.

The name Cowdray comes from Coudreye, the Norman word for the nearby hazel woods.

Perry is the son and heir of Michael Orlando Weetman Pearson, 4th Viscount Cowdray, and Marina Rose Cordle.

His dad produced the documentary "Sympathy for the Devil," directed and written by Jean-Luc Godard, documenting the creative evolution of the song "Sympathy for the Devil" as the Rolling Stones developed it during recording sessions at Olympic Studios in London.

His mom is an artist, sculptress, interior designer and mindfulness coach, she's keenly interested in spiritual matters, she practises Transcendental Meditation (a form of silent meditation) and Qigong.

His parents separated in August 2023, after 36 years of marriage.

Perry has three older sisters and a younger brother:

Eliza Anne Venetia Pearson (born 31 May 1988). She married her first husband at 21. Later he left her for the Kate Winslet . . . . She remarried, had children and lives in Ibiza now.

Emily Jane Marina Pearson (born 13 December 1989). Tatler Magazine included her as one of the 10 perfect potential brides for Prince Harry . . . . She she studied Plant-based Nutrition and is one of the founders of the vegan restaurant "Farmacy" in Notting Hill.

Catrina Sophie Lavinia Pearson (born 13 March 1991). She goes by "Catty." She's a musician and a film-school graduate.

Montague Orlando William Pearson (born 17 May 1997). He goes by "Monty". Wee brother is 6'4. He's a helicopter pilot, enjoys flying drones and studied film production and graphic design. He was named after the former owners of Cowdray Estate, the Viscounts of Montague.

Perry also has an older half brother:

Sebastian William Orlando Pearson (born 1970).

As you can see, Perry is privileged to be the heir above his older half brother Sebastian, since he was born out of wedlock, and above his older sisters: Eliza, Emily and Catrina, since they were born women . . . . Where have I heard this before???

Sometimes I'm glad I'm an only child . . . .

As any other younger brother of three older sisters, he was annoying. According to Tatler Magazine, Perry liked to wind up his sisters (then vegan) by scoffing meat.

Perry is also an uncle, his sisters Eliza and Emily are mothers of cute babies, but sadly I can't show you pictures. He looks cute holding a baby tho.

Talking about cute babies, that little curly blonde boy sat in a chair next to his standing father in one of the portraits in the picture above, is Perry. His portrait was painted by Chinese artist Chen Yanning, who also painted Queen Elizabeth II's portrait:

Here a few more childhood pics:

That picture of of him as a baby peeing on a plant, is his Instagram profile picture . . . .

~~~

Education

Business, Management, Marketing, and Related Support Services at the University of West London, UK.

Not Oxford or Cambridge? Shocking!

UX Desing at General Assembly in New York, NY, US.

Dear Perry, you can improve my user experience by making your instagram account public. That would do!

~~~

Occupation

In January 2015, it was reported by Tatler Magazine that he was working for Aylesford International Estate Agents in London.

He also worked as an assistant site manager for Cordles, a London based contractor company founded by his maternal uncle Rupert Cordle.

He started working at Cowdray Estate in West Sussex, his family estate and heirdom, since 2016 to this day.

He's also the founder, partner and director of Weetman Developments, his own property investment and development company in London, since 2019 to this day.

Perry is also a Le Chameau – the wellington boot brand – ambassador.

As you can see, Perry is basically a nepo baby lol

But that doesn't mean he doesn't work, Cowdray Estate is huge (16,500 acre), and offers a vast variety of activities like golf, clay-pigeon shooting, fly fishing on the river Rother, walking, cycling, riding, polo, truffle hunting, hospitality at the farm shop & café, holiday cottages, tree houses, wedding venues, private stays and events at Cowdray House, filming locations (the Cowdray Ruins were used during the filming of Margot Robbie and Saoirse Ronan’s film, "Mary Queen of Scots"), among others, and Perry is/will be in charge of all of that.

According to his mom, back in 2019 he was pioneering aquaponic farming on a commercial scale [The Telegraph - June, 2019].

In an interview for The Gentleman's Journal, Perry said that he's working to pass the estate on to his heir in better conditions: “But the dream is to pass it on to my son or daughter in better nick than it’s in now. That’s the mentality when it comes to estates,” “You’re so grateful that you’ve been given this opportunity, you want others to have the same opportunity that you had.”

I don't know if Perry will try to change the primogeniture rules, but it was really nice to read that he thinks his heir could be a son or a daughter.

Perry's family was always wealthy (construction and petroleum in the past, publishing nowadays); but not always aristocrats.

His great-great-grandfather, Weetman Dickinson Pearson, was made a Baronet of Paddockhurst in 1894, then he purchased Cowdray Estate in 1909. Later he was made Baron Cowdray first, in 1910, and then the 1st Viscount Cowdray in 1917.

Viscount, is a European title of nobility, ranking immediately below a count, or earl. It is one of the five ranks of British nobility and peerage, which, in descending order, are duke, marquess, earl, viscount, and baron.

So, when Perry becomes the 5th Viscount Cowdray, he won't be on top of the british nobility; but he will be richer. At present, Perry's family is thought to be worth £224million, and one day, he will inherit all of that.

~~~

Hobbies

Riding (Not Polo)

His family estate includes Cowdray Park Polo Club, dubbed The Home of British Polo, but Perry doesn't play Polo.

His parents never pushed him to, perhaps fearing that he could get hurt by falling from a horse. "Michael (Perry's father) never sought polo glory after a fall from a horse at the age of 13" [standard.co.uk - 2010].

In 2018 he said: “Cowdray is to polo what Goodwood is to racing and Glyndebourne to opera.” “I’m getting lessons.” “I grew up riding and over the next few years it’s something I can see myself doing a lot more” [The Telegraph - August, 2018].

Later, in an interview for The Gentleman's Journal, he joked by saying that "he’s not particularly good at it".

So far, I only saw him presenting Polo trophies and congratulating the champions, so I guess the lessons didn't work . . . . lol

Maybe is better that way, if he doesn't play polo he wont smell of horses. Sophie is asthmatic and allergic to horses.

Golf

He plays golf for some charity and corporate events. No idea if he's good at it.

Clay-pigeon shooting

Not sure if he really shoots at flying clay targets or he only modeled to promote the shooting school at his family estate.

Huntings

He likes to attend posh huntings wearing tweed, baker boy caps and suspenders.

He already took Sophie to one of those last December, but she didn't wear tweed, she defied the rules by wearing a Zara black jacket and a pair of acid washed jeans. . . . She would look great wearing tweed, tho . . . .

(There have been hunters in my family, so I can't judge much)

Here some pics:

Skiing

He seems very skilled at it.

Meribel in France seems to be his family favorite destination to enjoy the snow.

He already took Sophie to ski & “après ski” there, and they were having the time of their lives!

Going to the beach

Yeah!

Ibiza is a favorite destination for his family, his dad used to live there, and now his eldest sister established there with her own family.

Can't wait to see Sophie enjoying the sun in Ibiza next . . . .

Enjoy some pics:

Partying

Fuck yeah!

"Like all the Cowdrays, he loves a party" [Tatler Magazine, January 2015].

"(...) the Hon Peregrine Pearson (the Cowdray heir), known for throwing ‘wild afterparties’ at his house in Chelsea, which he shares with Ella (Richards)’s boyfriend, Sascha von Bismarck" [Tatler Magazine, March 2023]. 

Here abundant evidence:

Pottery

Perry enjoyed spending time in his mom's pottery studio in the garden: “We were brought up being quite creative – spending time in her studio was very bonding” [The Telegraph - August, 2018].

I would love to see one of those creative pieces made by Perry 👀

Meditation

Like his mom, Perry practises meditation as well. [The Telegraph - June, 2019].

From pictures, it seems he usually wears a silver Meditator pendant. The Meditator is a seated figure, with a pointed head, a heart and a hole in its middle. His mom designed it herself, as a reminder to live in the present moment, rather than fretting about the past or future.

~~~

Previous relationships

His only known/famous relationship was with Princess Maria Olympia of Greece and Denmark.

He dated Olympia for three years, since 2020 to 2023.

She seemed really into Perry during the relationship:

But shortly after their break up was official, she was reported being in a relationship with an older, married with children man . . . .

His wife kicked him out of the house after the news. Good for her! [Read more about it here]

~~~

So far, this is all I learnt about Sophie's Hon Perry Pearson. I love that he's so tall and the way he can hug her being so tall, I bet Sophie loves it too.

But I kinda hate that the press only uses his most unflattering pictures, when is easy to find public pictures where he actually looks good.

Also, my friend told me that he reminds her a bit of Paul Mescal, and now I can't unsee it . . . .

What more can I say about him after my research? Oh, maybe that he has met the Dalai Lama and sat next to Kim Kardashian and Kimora Lee Simmons at Paris Hilton's wedding lol

He also loves to wear sunglasses, even indoors . . . .

Anyways, now to the point of this post!

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Romance with Sophie Turner

Perry is a Scorpio and Sophie is a Pisces, like Scorpio Ryan Gosling and Pisces Eva Mendes . . . .

I have no idea how they met, where they met, or when they met, but we have evidence that they spent the last part of October 2023 together.

2023 was a rough year for both of them, with her divorce and custody battle, and with his own break up with his ex, and the separation of his parents after 36 years of marriage.

The first time we saw him next to Sophie, we have no idea who he was. It was during the Rugby World Cup final on October 28th 2023, just before Sophie unveiled the trophy:

Perry was there with Sophie, but we had no idea they were together until October 31th 2023, when a couple of pictures of them sharing a kiss outside Paris’s Gare du Nord train station were made public and got viral:

The pictures were taken on the same day as the Rugby World Cup final. It was reported that they arrived together in Paris from London via the Eurostar, and said goodbye with a kiss before meeting again later at the Stade de France.

When their Paris kiss pictures were all over the press, someone claimed that their friend had seen them together the week before:

So, if the Rugby World Cup final was on October 28th 2023 and Perry's 29th birthday was the day before, I bet the lovebirds spent his birthday together in London.

I wonder what Sophie got Perry for his birthday??? An appointment with a fashion stylist, I hope!

(Perry, honey, burn those double breasted suits in your closet, please! They don't fit your large body 🙏 King Felipe II of Spain, has a similar body and his tailoring is👌)

I also believe they spent the last days of October together in Paris, since they were seen all cozy during a romantic dinner at some fancy Parisian restaurant:

After that Sophie was seen back in New York on November 3th 2023. We don't know if Perry travelled with her to New York, but some anon claims he saw them holding hands in West Village:

Back in London, they were seen making out in a famous spot on November 2023 . . . .

. . . . And having dinner with friends on early December 2023:

Later, we have graphic evidence of them spending time together from the 7th to the 10th of December 2023, at least.

December 7th 2023:

They went to Hyde Park Winter Wonderland at night, where they walked around, hugged and kissed:

December 8th 2023:

They had brunch in West London and walked around hand in hand, eventually stopping so Perry could gently caress Sophie's face and kiss her:

That day, this also happened . . . . 🤨

December 9th 2023:

They attended a posh hunting weekend at Blenheim Palace in Woodstock, Oxfordshire, held by some of the current Spencer-Churchills: George Spencer-Churchill and his wife Camilla Thorp, Marquess and Marchioness of Blandford (they will be Duke and Duchess of Marlborough one day).

The event was full of Perry's aristocrat friends like Alexander Spencer-Churchill, Lady Jemima Herbert, the Earl of Pembroke’s daughter, and Eleanor Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington’s niece, among others.

So, Perry has basically already introduced Sophie to some relative and close friends:

Can someone please explain to me why is Perry wearing a pink ribbon around his neck in the last picture? Is a mystery I need to resolve in this lifetime.

Here a few more pics:

After that, I suspect they spent the holidays together in London, or, at least, that they saw each other for a few hours during those days. I'm not saying she introduced him to her family and daughters, but it's obvious that they are dating and Christmas and the New Year are festivities you want to share with the people you care for.

I wonder what Perry got Sophie for Christmas? A handmade ceramic vase? A basket full of hydroponic vegetables that he grew himself?Diamonds?

And most recently, on January 17, 2024, they were seen walking around London at night all cozied up:

I want her UGGS!!!

Also, are those really mini liquor bottles at Perry's hand??? At first I thought they were Sophie's nail polish bottles 💅🏼

Someone spotted them skiing in Meribel, France. It was reported on January 28th, 2024, but it was probably before that date. Deuixmoi titled the stories as "let's see what your fave celebs have been up to the past week"

She's having the time of her life with Perry? GOOD FOR HER!

OK, today January 29th 2024, Sophie herself posted pics of them skiing in Meribel together with a couple of Perry's friends:

Lol at Perry not looking at the camera in the first pic 🤭

So, I suppose they are official now, right? Maybe it's time to post this post . . . .

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Now, in the beginning of this post I said that after knowing Perry's fantasy novel/bird-like name, I immediately thought about ASOIAF's House Arryn and Harry Hardyng, you know, since House Arryn's sigil is a falcon, Harry Hardyng is dubbed the Young Falcon, and the peregrine is literally a species of falcon.

And since Harry Hardyng is the current Sansa's suitor in the ASOIAF incomplete series, I joked with my friends by saying that Sophie has entered his Harry Hardyng era . . . .

Perry also made me remember that passage in A Storm of Swords where Margaery's peregrine took a heron in full flight the day she and Sansa went hawking.

Peregrine is also the name of a ship that Arianne Martell boards in one of the few chapters of The Winds of Winter that GRRM released in advance.

Perry's name also reminds me of Pippin from The Lord of the Rings, since his full name is Peregrin Tuk, but this is a story for another day.

But if the Pearsons of Cowdray were a House from Westeros, they would be the Arryns enemies, since the Pearson's sigil is a gryphon:

And thanks to Sansa/Alayne we all know that the Winged Knight and the Griffin King were mortal enemies:

The Winged Knight was Ser Artys Arryn. Legend said that he had driven the First Men from the Vale and flown to the top of the Giant's Lance on a huge falcon to slay the Griffin King.  —A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

You know, in some ancient mythologies, the creature known as gryphon is depicted as fire-belching: "winged, tailed, and taloned dragon which spat fire." 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀 Just saying . . . .

House Pearson motto is:

'Do it with thy might'

These words are carved on the stone fireplace in Buck Hall, the atrium at the heart of Cowdray House.

According to The Gentleman's Journal, Perry translates his family motto to simpler words: “Just do it — that might be a more modern approximation.”

But he's more into Adidas and North Star. Sorry Nike . . . . lol

Anyways, GRRM has the opportunity to do the funniest thing . . . .

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And talking about GRRM, it's time to tell you that Perry's family are the founders and large share holders of Pearson plc, a British multinational publishing and education company headquartered in London.

Pearson plc owns Penguin Random House, you know, GRRM's publishers, the ones that publish the ASOIAF series . . . .

And I recently came to know that Penguin Random House is going to republish Joan Hannington’s autobiography “I Am What I Am” under the title ‘Joan.’ And, you know, Sophie's upcoming project is precisely a tv series called ‘Joan,’ with Sophie taking the role of Joan Hannington . . . .

Some will say that this is part of the j word agenda, lol

Again, GRRM has the opportunity to do the funniest thing . . . .

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Finally, we need to answer an important question!

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So . . . .

A match made in heaven? Or maybe we won't see his face again?

Only time will tell. I only hope that he makes Sophie super happy as long as they are together.

I will probably update this post with time or make a part 2, because Tumblr doesn't let me add more pictures 😢

Thanks for reading!