#it is just how they managed to make two characters shed in two different lights have the same opinion if you get me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joezworld · 15 days ago

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Hey everyone seems real sad for some reason. Could not imagine why.

Anyways if you squint real hard you may notice a similarity to Thomas and the Jet Engine. That is intentional.

You can also squint and notice some similarity to several Traintober prompts. That is intentional.

Also, if you notice any similarity to any of SiF's character names... that's right! That is intentional. I did that and it's on purpose and I'm making fun of them. If you're from SiF either recognize that it was a dumb name or die mad about it.

Pip and Emma at The Top

2021 - The Summer

It was the longest summer since the last one. There weren’t any tourists - obviously - but even the inter-island traffic had died down considerably. The government on the mainland was skittishly enacting and then subsequently revoking plans to allow gatherings again, and the people of Sodor were prudently trying to keep the Island’s activities out of London’s sphere of notice.

As events were curtailed and people limited their own travel, the railway cut back on services, as they’d done several times before. Pip and Emma were the first to be relegated to the yards; while they could run a much shorter train - and often did - a shortage-related spike in the price of diesel fuel meant that it was more economical for James or Henry to take the two diesels' trains instead.

Henry had tried to make sense of how the economics on that worked out, but numbers were not his strong suit, and so he instead passed along his sympathies every time he passed the twins in the yard.

James (and no-one else) thought that he was being rather magnanimous by not endlessly laughing about how he was cheaper to run than a diesel. Several cutting responses had been prepared if he ever got too full of himself, but shockingly he’d kept the snickering to a bare minimum.

As the days stretched on into a week, and then two, a bigger problem soon began to present itself:

“I’m bored, Pip!”

“Me too!”

Pip and Emma were getting restless.

“WILL YOU TWO KEEP IT DOWN?! IT IS THREE IN THE MORNING!”

And they were more than willing to make that everyone else’s problem.

A few days later, and the diesels were overjoyed when an inspector came to them with instructions to report to the works.

Equally overjoyed were the engines in the big shed.

Pip and Emma arrived at the works in a right state, having been held up by trackwork along the main line.

“Two hours! Can you believe it Emma?”

“I don’t like running light engine, they can push us around too much.”

“Right? We’re express engines, not a train of old rubbish!” “I think they prioritized the rubbish train over us, if that smell at Kellsthorpe Road was anything to go by.”

“Ugh!”

Mr. Tedfield, the Works Manager, eventually arrived, bringing an end to their complaining. “Right you two. Seems like we’ve got some work for you.”

“Here?” They chorused.

“No,” he said quickly. “But the work is going to be a lot different from your usual job, and we’re gonna have to do some modifications.”

“Oh no,” Pip cried. “It’s going to be buffers, isn’t it?”

“How did you know?” The man was baffled.

“It’s the only thing it could be, sir.” Emma explained. “That’s what they said on the Eastern Region, back in the 1980’s. ‘Just some little modifications!’ and they came back from Derby with the ugliest buffers ever!”

“It was a hatchet job!” Pip agreed. “All their lower valances, gone!”

“Easy, easy!” Mr. Tedfield yelped, not expecting that sort of response. “I’m sure that we can do a better job than that!”

“Promise?” they said in worried unison.

“Promise.”

A few days later, and the twins were relieved to discover that the works were as good as their word. Unlike the Eastern Region “hatchet jobs,” they still sported all their bodywork. Holes had been drilled through the lower valances, and buffers, couplings, and air hoses now poked through. The fibreglass was a little rough around the edges, but everyone agreed that it could also look a great deal worse. (Apparently, custom fibreglass was one of the only things the works staff couldn’t do in-house, and there was a concerning amount of murmuring from the staff about how they’d change that.)

Rolling out into the sun for the first time since they were “slightly modified,” they blinked the light from their eyes to find Mr. Tedfield, the Fat Controller, and another man who they didn’t know waiting for them.

“Well,” Started Mr. Tedfield. “I’m glad to see that our concerns were unfounded.”

The twins knew he was being diplomatic in front of the Fat Controller. He’d already said “I told you so!” several times earlier in the day.

He continued. “So now we should probably tell you what we would like you to do!”

“Because somebody forgot to mention it earlier…” The other man muttered under his breath.

The Fat Controller looked from one man to the other, and shook his head slightly. “Pip, Emma, as I’m sure you’re already aware, we are not going to be running the Express to London anytime soon. So, with that in mind, you two are going to be assigned to mixed traffic work until passenger numbers allow us to put you back into normal service.”

“Mixed traffic work?” They said as one.

“Oh yes!” The Fat Controller looked quite pleased with himself. “We have quite a lot of cargo traffic coming in through the ports right now, and you two will help take the strain off everyone else.”

The man they didn’t know coughed slightly.

“Of course, how foolish of me,” The Fat Controller rolled his eyes. “I also recognize that you two have some… special abilities that the other engines lack, namely your high-speed capabilities. With that in mind, Mr. Hargrave, from the coach and wagon department here at the works, has had an idea.”

“Yes, right.” Mr. Hargrave said with pride. “So, back when we first started coming back to work after the lockdowns, the government gave us a whole pile of Levelling-Up money, to “get us back on our feet.”” He paused, bouncing on his heels. “Thing is, we’d already fixed up everything beforehand, because we didn’t want anyone locked away in the works during the end of days with their bits in pieces, so we didn’t have anything to spend it on, but we had to spend it, otherwise they’d take it back!”

“Government logic at its finest…” Mr. Tedfield said under his breath.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Mr. Hargrave agreed. “So anyways, we decided to just make everything as perfect as we could make it.”

He stopped for a moment, long enough for the Fat Controller to look at him. “Such as…?”

“Hm? Oh! Yes, the container wagons!” He said all at once. “We took all the container wagons that were sitting around idle - and some other stuff besides - and we took them and fitted high speed bogies and bearings to them.”

Pip blinked slowly. “High speed bogies?”

“That’s right! They ride like coaches now.” He said with childlike joy. “And they won’t weigh much more than them either, so it shouldn’t be much trouble for you two. High speed containers, all the way to the mainland!”

Pip looked at him, then at the Fat Controller. “Sir, why are we doing this?”

The Fat Controller looked much more reasoned. “Quite a few companies are willing to pay a premium for their shipments to arrive as quickly as possible. There’s a lot of congestion at the bigger ports in the south, and Liverpool is operating almost at capacity, so we have an opportunity to get some very lucrative traffic.” He smiled knowingly. “And if we play our cards right, some of the companies, like Amazon, might build a few warehouses just across the channel on the mainland, and then we can serve those in perpetuity.”

The twins slowly digested this. “But sir, will it matter if we can go that fast?” Pip asked. “Once we cross the bridge, we’ve got to deal with Network Rail, and they don’t know anything.”

The Fat Controller looked as pleased as punch. “But you’re not dealing with Network rail.” He said with a satisfied smile. “Our contract for this ‘express freight’ is to get it as far as Barrow-in-Furness. If Freightliner or Colas Rail happen to be tardy after that…” he made a gesture with his hands. “That’s of no importance to us.”

Pip and Emma blinked slowly. “So, you want us to go as fast as we can?” Pip said with an expression that was rapidly passing “gleeful.”

“I do.” The Fat Controller agreed, before walking away.

---

Across the Island, the trucks and wagons shuddered.

A few weeks later

Pip and Emma fit in surprisingly well on goods trains, and could soon be found on everything from trundling pickup goods to the Flying Kipper. The Works really had made every truck as “perfect” as they could make them, and so every train, regardless of what it was or who was pulling it, was rolling on new bearings and freshly-trued wheels. Bear, BoCo, James, and Henry claimed it was some of the easiest work they’d ever had, and even the trucks agreed with them!

Pip and Emma, however, were mostly focused on one thing: speed. They’d been promised the ability to go as fast as they liked, but there was a significant obstacle to it:

“Oh come on! How long can it take to re-lay one set of points!”

The Permanent Way and Signaling departments had also received a great deal of this “use it or lose it” government funding, and were furiously working to replace, re-lay, and re-wire seemingly the entire island.

Fortunately for the twins, the work was almost at an end, and as the summer began to wane, they soon found that more and more of the line was back up to full capacity. Shortly thereafter, the “Container Express” was a regularly scheduled train on the main line, running twice a day between Tidmouth Harbour and the yard in Barrow. Keen-eyed observers of the timetable would note that it was the exact same pair of slots previously occupied by the Wild Nor’Wester, which had last run in March of 2020.

The Fat Controller promised anyone who asked him that it was absolutely a temporary measure, and most believed him, save for one group in particular…

“Lads,” A voice murmured in the container yard one morning. “I think this is forever… ‘s our purgatory for whatever it is we’ve done to the engines.”

“Nah, this ain’t purgatory,” whispered another, as a two-toned horn blasted in the distance.

“Hi everyone!” “Ready for the trip?”

“This is hell. We’re in hell.”

A few days later - Barrow

The lift bridge over the Walney Channel operated very differently than it did pre-COVID. A train would arrive at the Vicarstown side of the bridge, then it would lower. It would stay down while the engines were turned round, or were uncoupled from their train and connected to a new one. Then the train would leave, and the bridge would go back up.

This happened two to four times a day, now that the lockdowns had lessened, but there was one constant - the same train that left the island would be the one to return to it.

Then, one evening in the late summer, the bridge rolled down for a train coming from the mainland.

There was a very familiar two-toned honk-honk as it rolled over the bridge and onto the Island, wheels click-clacking across the bridge joints in great numbers.

The rear power car vanished with a roar of sound and a whoosh of diesel exhaust, and then the train was gone into the distance.

The bridge slowly cycled back up. There was a new train on the Island of Sodor.

The next morning

Pip and Emma woke up much later than usual - the main line was undergoing its final “track geometry inspection”, and freight services had been curtailed for most of the day to allow the inspection to be done as quickly as possible.

Eventually, they were rolled out of the diesel shed mostly on BoCo’s urging, (“You two are not allowed to get bored in here.”) and made their way to the platforms of the big station.

“Oh, this is weird!” Pip exclaimed as she backed down onto a set of coaches. She and Emma had been coupled back-to-back for over a month now, and it seemed like nobody was in a hurry to position them “normally” for a short run down to Suddery and back.

“Not as weird as your- oh my goodness it’s you two.” James started his sentence with a considerable amount of venom, but squeaked halfway through his sentence before stopping altogether.

“What was that?” They both looked at him funny.

“Nothing!” He said quickly. “Nothing at all. I, um, I thought that you were somebody else!”

He vanished as though by magic, and neither Pip, Emma, nor the coaches had any idea of what to say until the guard waved his flag.

Making their way down the line, they encountered several other engines, each of whom gave them some kind of funny look. As they headed down Edward’s branch line, it was all they could talk about.

“Maybe it’s just how strange we look back-to-back?”

“It can’t be, Pip! You saw how Edward looked! I think he was actually upset!”

“Goodness, I hope it wasn’t anything we did.”

“I don’t think so. They all seemed to stop once they saw us.”

“...”

“What?”

“I just had a thought.”

“What?”

“Who looks like us, but can make everyone hate them in no time flat?”

“Oh no!”

Later, they arrived back at Wellsworth station with the return service. The train terminated here, instead of returning to the big station, so once the passengers had disembarked, they had to shunt the coaches out of the way. It was somewhat novel for them, and Pip took great joy in being shown how a shunter’s pole worked. Emma, on the other buffer, was busy eavesdropping; Edward was getting ready to bank Bear’s goods train up Gordon’s Hill, and he was fuming about something to the stationmaster.

“-that damn banana shows its face here again I will show them what for!” he hissed sternly, before puffing away in a huff.

The stationmaster didn’t say anything that Emma could hear, but he seemed to look very intently at the signals outside the station. There was one signal set for an arriving train.

Emma didn’t like that, it felt very ominous. “Pip, look sharp. I think we’re going to have trouble soon.”

Pip didn’t have time to respond, because at that instant, the two-tone horn of an HST rang out in the near distance. The rails hummed with the noise of an approaching train, and a 5-coach HST set pulled into the station.

The train was safety-yellow, and bristled with cameras, sensors, lasers, and measurement equipment of all kinds. Large “NETWORK RAIL” logos were plastered on every coach and both power cars, right next to the words “NEW MEASUREMENT TRAIN.”

It was glossy. It was shiny. It was freshly washed.

“Oh, must we dawdle around this dump? I know what sort of conditions this lot keeps!”

It was rude.

“Will you stop already? I would like to not be thrown off this island, thanks.”

Well, half of it was.

Pip closed her eyes to steady herself. Emma ground her teeth audibly. Of course it was them.

Quickly, quietly, they tried to reverse out of sight, but the camera-studded train saw all, and criticised everything.

“Oh I say!” The lead power car laughed mockingly. “I thought those rumours were wrong but look at that! You two really have been demoted to common shunters!”

“Hi Pip. Hi Emma.” The rear power car said, utterly defeated.

“Hi John,” They chorused, equally displeased. “Hi, Obs-”

“Do not use that name!” The lead power car snapped brusquely. On his side there was a big brass nameplate that read “The Railway Observer.” “Use my real name.”

“Not this again…” The rear power car moaned. He had “John Armitt” bolted to his side. “I know that you think it sounds better but I promise you it isn’t-”

“I’m sorry,” The lead power car snapped. “But are you undermining me in front of outsiders?”

“They’re our sisters, you numpty.”

“And they shall refer to me by the name of my choice!”

“It’s a stupid name!”

“It’s a regal name!”

Pip and Emma observed the bickering train with muted resignation. “Why couldn’t he have been at Ladbroke Grove?” Pip said to nobody in particular. “Would’ve done the world a favour.”

Emma just wanted to get this over with. The coaches had been safely shunted away, so it was just a matter of getting out of the yard - then they could go down to Tidmouth and get their next train. “And what name would you like us to call you?” She said eventually.

The lead power car puffed himself up like a self-important cockatoo. “I,” He proclaimed regally. “Am Murgatroyd. It is a noble name, with a rich history, and-”

Pip almost swallowed her own tongue from the sudden outburst of laughter, while Emma couldn’t even bring herself to look at him. “Oh my god, that is the worst name I have ever heard of,” She said, barely audible over Pip’s gale-force guffaws. “Why would you do that to yourself? Why would you do that to us?”

Murgatroyd turned red with indignation (which, thanks to his yellow paint, was actually a shade of orange) and started shouting. “How dare you, you- you- you low-class harlot! This is a regal name, chosen to signify-”

“How much of a pretentious twat you are?” John scoffed from the other end of the NMT. “Usually people can tell when you talk.”

The retort that followed was unprintable, and a vicious three-way argument soon struck up, lasting until Pip and Emma left Wellsworth for the harbour at Tidmouth.

The New Measurement Train left a few minutes after that, an argument trailing in its wake. The yard was silent after that.

BoCo, who had been trying to nap in the shed, looked around the yard. “I don’t think anyone will believe me…” he said to himself.

-----

At the harbour’s intermodal yard, Pip and Emma found their train already waiting for them… although it was slightly different from usual.

Fifteen container trucks sat mostly empty, with just a few loaded ones up at the front. Ahead of those were two low-loaders, one empty, the other… not.

“Finally!” Thomas the Tank Engine groused from atop the front low-loader. “It’s been ages!”

“It’s been two hours.” The low-loader rolled his eyes. “We left at 11:00. It’s barely past one.”

“Well, who asked you?!”

Pip and Emma were surprised, to say the least. “What’s he doing here?” They asked the yard supervisor. “Can we take him on this train?”

“As a matter of fact,” He consulted his clipboard. “You can. I spoke to the works, and they’ve “improved” some of the flatcars with the high speed bogies they had left over. Should be fine.”

“Should be?”

“That’s what they said.” He shrugged, flipping through the clipboard to a printout of an email. “They put it in writing.”

Pip had to squint to see the small text. “I don’t like that they put “It should be fine!” on an official email…”

Behind her, Emma rolled her eyes, in the process noticing something above them. “Wait, what’s that?”

The supervisor looked up. “Oh, that’s a jet engine for an airplane. Rolls Royce rebuilds them down in Derby.”

“Why is it here? This isn’t the airport.”

“Airport’s closed for a few days because they lost their electric transformer - surprised you didn’t ‘ear about it. Rolls didn’t wanna wait, and we’re quicker than a lorry it seems.” The man smiled at the last part. Everyone in the freight division was very pleased that this “hare-brained, half-baked, absolutely ridiculous” concept (as some “industry observers” had remarked) was proving successful.

Emma watched as the jet engine was craned onto a flatcar behind Thomas. “Oh great!” He scoffed as it was chained down to the car. “Not only am I getting shuttled around this Island like a piece of lost mail, but now it’s air mail at that?”

“Oh shush!” Pip said, somewhat bemused by the whole situation. “We’ll get you to Barrow double quick!”

“Barrow?! I’m going to the works!” Thomas was irate.

“If you ever listened,” The low-loader started. “You’d know that they don’t stop there, so we’re going to Barrow, and then back to Crovan’s on the pick-up goods.”

“Oh! Wonderful! I am a lost parcel! This is all Toby’s fault, the square-”

“Thomas,” Emma cut him off kindly. “It’ll be fine. Think about it this way - you can say that you went there on the Express! Won’t that be fun?”

“I’ve been on the express before…” Thomas said darkly.

“See? Then you know how fun it is!”

Thomas looked like he wanted to say something else, but before he could, the shunters allowed Pip and Emma to back down onto the train, and connected the coupling chains and air hoses.

Emma winked at him reassuringly, something which he felt was only unintentionally patronizing.

And then the train set off for the mainland.

Leaving the port was a slow affair - the container yard was off to one side, and they had to dodge Marina and Salty as they shunted cars into the bulk terminals by the yard throat. There were a lot of low-speed switches to navigate as well, and the train rocked from side to side as they crossed over. Thomas thought about saying he was getting seasick, but chose not to tempt fate after the seventh such switch made him actually feel a little nauseous.

After reaching the end of the harbour tracks, they came to a complete stop, and waited for several trains to leave the big station.

First came Gordon, who stormed out of the station canopy with the mid-day semi-fast behind him. His expression was thunderous, as were his clouds of smoke and steam. He passed by with a roar and a clatter and vanished into the tunnel towards Knapford.

Edward was a few minutes behind, with a train of ballast from the Little Western. The expression on his face was neutral, almost intentionally so - a clear sign to anyone that knew him that he was blisteringly furious.

“Oh no…” Emma sighed.

“What?” Thomas asked, watching Edward’s brake van disappear into the tunnel.

“Not what, who.” She said, resigned. “And you’ll find out soon enough.”

Up front, Pip grit her teeth and waited.

She didn’t have to wait long - another minute, and an unusual signal dropped into place: an up-bound train cleared for the down slow line. A very familiar two-note honk-honk sounded from inside the station, and then Murgatroyd appeared, a self-satisfied sneer on his face.

He roared out of the station, New Measurement Train shining brightly behind him, John on the tail end calling apologies to someone. It would have been a rather splendid sight, had there not been a massive cloud of sooty clag hovering over the station entrance, and trailing in his wake.

Pip smirked with a hint of schadenfreude - John wasn’t trailing any sooty exhaust smoke, and five empty coaches were not that heavy, so somebody was ignoring his fitters it seemed…

She would have been content to sit there smugly, her well-tuned engine firing cleanly on all cylinders saying more than she ever could with words, but naturally Murgatroyd had to make things worse.

“Oh good god!” He bellowed in mean-spirited mirth, his mouth twisting into a cheshire-cat smile. “Look at that! They really are Valenta freighters now! And they’re slumming it with a tea kettle! I thought that I had seen it all!”

He vanished out of sight before he could say anything else, the coaches streaming by in a yellow blur.

Pip could just see her reflection in the passing windows - they moved so fast it looked like a solid mirror - and it was not a pretty sight.

Emma, who’d heard everything, reckoned that if he’d gone on for one more sentence, her sister would be spitting fire and roaring loud enough to be heard in Cornwall.

Thomas, who had said worse to Toby and Daisy just this morning, suddenly felt a great sense of unease…

A few tense minutes later, and the signal finally raised, giving the train access to the main line. Pip set off with a roar, Emma reluctantly following her lead through the multiple unit connection. Thomas choked and spluttered from the wave of hot exhaust gases going right into his face, and barely noticed as the train rocked and rolled onto the Up Fast line.

Blinking and tearing up, his vision finally cleared just in time to see Pip’s cab roof disappear into the darkness of the tunnel to Knapford. It was much closer than it usually was, and with the train rapidly increasing in speed, Thomas yelped as it cleared his funnel by mere inches. “YIKES!”

Emma laughed, eyes shining in the darkness, and Thomas knew that the sooner he got off this train, the better!

After that, for a little while, the trip continued smoothly. Knapford, Crosby, and Wellsworth stations all slid past without issue. Traffic was extremely light, and they didn’t pass any down-bound trains in the entire period. In fact, if it weren’t for the occasional blot of Gordon’s smoke on the horizon, it would have seemed that they had the entire main line to themselves.

It was just past Maron station when the trouble began.

As they crested Gordon’s hill, the first signal past the summit had fallen to “approach” almost as they passed it, and some quick shouting at “control” on the radio had revealed that the last of the permanent way crews were taking longer than usual to clear the main line near Kellsthorpe Road station.

This meant that Pip and Emma were practically at a crawl as they reached Maron, and the train eased to a stop at the signal bridge just past the platforms.

Pip, still hot under the buffers from her encounter with Murgatroyd, was not exactly thrilled at the idea of “dawdling” in stations, and audibly fussed as they came to a halt.

Her poor temper didn’t help her train handling skills any, and the train lurched inelegantly to a halt, causing the slack in the couplings to run in, and the entire train banged against her and Emma.

There was much shouting and complaining from the trucks and Thomas at this, and Pip growled menacingly.

“Oh, well.” Emma said quickly, trying to put a positive spin on things. “At least it’s a nice day out-”

CLONK

Before she could even say anything, the signals rose to the “approach slow, expect stop” aspect. This meant that they were getting moved forward exactly one signal block, to the Cronk home signals near the Hawin Ab Viaduct.

“Oh come on!” Emma cried in frustration.

It was abundantly clear what was happening now: they were going to be yo-yo-ed up and down the main line. Yo-yo-ing was what happened when a fast train was stuck behind a slow one, and had to constantly stop at each signal and wait for it to clear. It was hard on an engine’s brakes, worse on their buffers and couplings, and worst of all, was annoying as sin. This was exactly the sort of constant, low-grade irritation that she (and Pip) did not need right now.

Pip’s driver was entirely unaware of this, though, and so he increased the throttle and watched with some bemusement as Pip let her engine furiously rev all the way to the top of the tachometer right from the jump.

She and Emma lurched forwards, and the entire train crashed into motion, each car yanking the one behind it as they all set off.

Thomas rocked back and forth against his tie-down chains. “Careful!” he shouted.

“Shut up!” Pip and Emma scowled.

Thomas frowned, ready to give them a piece of his mind.

“It’s no use,” tThe low-loader sighed. “They’re in a strop right now - best you can do is make them forget that you’re here, til they calm down.”

“When will that happen?”

“That, lad, is something that the smartest trucks in all the land have been searching for an answer to for many years.”

To add insult to perceived injury, Pip’s driver didn’t bother accelerating to any real speed, since they were only going one signal down the line. Pip and Emma stewed in their own irritation at twenty-five miles an hour as they rolled up the line towards the next signal. There was very little that could be done to make them more upset, but of course when there’s a will, (and a Murgatroyd) there’s a way.

“Oh, no…” John murmured to himself.

The New Measurement Train had been caught at a signal for almost thirty minutes, as the Island’s P-Way team cleared out in front of them. The positioning of this particular signal was not ideal, as it left the tail of the train caught on the exposed tracks of a windy viaduct. Furthermore, the signal, like all signals on Sodor, was a relatively vintage semaphore design that still used colored filters over a white light. He knew this from experience, having been all over this island for the last day, however he was hearing all of it now because his royal Murgitude had been griping and whinging about it literally since the moment they stopped.

And now, look at who was coming up to the signals on the fast line…

“Hi Pip, Hi Emma,.” he said weakly.

He almost wanted to tell them to stop further back, and be near him - away from the irritating mass at the front of the train - but looking at Pip’s enraged visage gave him pause. He stilled his tongue, and let them roll up to the signal mast next to Murg.

Judging from the way that the train screeched and bashed to a halt, Emma wasn’t happy either. A smart engine (or one with a functioning self-preservation instinct) would have kept quiet at that stage, however Murgatroyd was neither self-preserving nor intelligent, and John could hear his mocking tone from five coaches back.

Pip said nothing, and at first neither did Emma, but as Moron-a-troyd went on and on and on, John could feel a shift in the container wagons next to him. It was almost like they were cringing, trying to keep themselves as far away from whatever was about to happen next.

Finally, he could take the suspense no more. “Is it bad?” he asked the nearest truck.

“SHUT UP. I AM TIRED OF HEARING YOU SPEAK,” Emma bellowed, loud enough to be heard clearly at the other end of the train.

“It’s awful bad,” the truck whispered. “You can tell he’s never dealt with real engines before. One of us acts like that and we’d be the next Scruffey within a month!”

John didn’t know who “Scruffey” was, but he understood the sentiment regardless.

Silence reigned after that… for all of ten seconds, before Murgatroyd said something about “decorum” that set off a screaming row between all three of them.

It was bad enough that the Network Rail crew inside the coaches started making a fuss on the radio, and within a minute, the container train roared away, leaving the New Measurement Train in windy silence yet again.

After a few short seconds, John felt a “poke” over the multiple unit connection. Clearly Murgatroyd wanted to say something.

“Well,” he said, voice warbling from some damage in the connection that John hadn’t ever told anyone about. “I think they said their piece didn’t they? I tell you what John-old-boy, but this island produces some of the worst examples of engine-kind that I have ever seen. I think that one was breathing fire!”

At Cronk station, Pip and Emma were idling so loud and so roughly that the stationmaster radioed the crew to ask if something was wrong.

“That damned flying banana got them in a state, that’s what’s wrong,” The driver snapped over the radio. That awful measurement train had been nothing but problems since it showed up on the island, and he was willing to do anything to see them gone. Heck, if it wasn’t likely to make his engines even angrier, he’d give that train his path to the mainland, just so it’d be gone faster.

What they really needed was a good fast run, to get them back into their usual state, but with the P-Way team taking their sweet bloody time of it, it didn’t seem likely.

“If they keep going like this, they’re going to burst a manifold somewhere,” the guard poked his head into the cab. “We’ve got to calm them down.”

“I would love to see you try!” the driver retorted. “They’re not gonna stop until they’re good and ready.”

“I can hear you, you know!” Pip huffed.

“And? Are you going to calm down?”

A slow growl that shook the entire cab was his only answer.

“Go put the radio on,” he said to the wide-eyed guard. “They need something to keep their minds occupied.”

“Radio? Like, to control?”

“No, you nit! Like the radio radio! With music! There’s a circuit breaker on the electrical panel. Bottom row.”

Confused, the guard retreated from the cab and made his way to Pip’s electrical cabinet. Opening up the “low voltage” door, he traced his finger down the rows of breakers until he found what should have been immediately obvious: a handwritten label on some sellotape next to the last of the breakers. It said “TUNES” in shaky handwriting, and was one of the only ones not turned on. Hesitantly, he reached out and switched it on.

“-and that was “No Diggity,” by Blackstreet, here on ManxPirate, the eternally annoying voice of the Sudrian Sea. Catch our sound wherever you are, on 107.9 FM, 927 AM, 13.68 Shortwave, DAB, DAB+, and online at ManxPirate.co.im.

“Oh come on!” Pip groused. “Now they’re gonna do the adverts! This isn’t any better than listening to the moron!”

“And now that brings us up to about five minutes til’ the top of the hour, so we’re gonna run some adverts so we can keep the lights on. We’ll see ya on the flipside with DJ Geordie Poppers, who’s gonna run a very special block of music for us, right here on ManxPirate.”

“How often do they listen to this?” the guard asked with some astonishment.

“Too much, if I had any say in it…” the driver mumbled.

“Are you tired of your washing up smelling like mildew? Are you sick of having to pull down the drying lines at the first sign of rain? Then the new automatic clothes dryers at B&Q are just for you…”

The radio continued on with an inane advertisement about tumble dryers, and the driver put his head in his hands. “We’ve just got to make it to a song… I hope.”

Pip and Emma continued to stew in their own irritation.

-----

Far away, at Kellsthorpe Road station, the last of the P-Way Gang hauled their equipment off of the line, sharing a celebratory high-five as they did so. There was due cause for celebration: once the NMT traveled over this section of line, their yearslong work of relaying the entire main line would be finally over. In the station’s car park, a champagne bottle was popped, and the foreman revealed that he’d brought real crystal stemware for the occasion, instead of plastic.

Presently, a radio handset buzzed. “Is that the lot of you off, then?”

It was Control, sounding less than pleased with the delay…

----

At Cronk, the signals for the down slow line rose into the “all clear” position, while the up fast signals remained red.

Pip ground her teeth noisily.

“HI, I’M BARRY SCOTT, AND I’M HERE TO TALK ABOUT THE ALL NEW CILLIT BANG UNIVERSAL DEGREASER! NOW WITH NEW FORMULATION! SAY GOODBYE TO LIMESCALE AND RUST STAINS…”

The radio continued to play adverts.

Thomas was growing increasingly fearful of the look on Emma’s face.

A few minutes later, as an insufferably bad advertisement about comparing your car insurance provider finally faded out, a two tone honk-honk sounded behind them, and the New Measurement Train roared past in a cloud of exhaust and dust. Pip and Emma didn’t say anything, or even look in the general direction, but the raucous laughter that trailed in its wake said enough.

Mercifully, the radio had begun playing something else. “All right then, got those ads out of the way. So what’s up listeners? It’s DJ Geordie Poppers in the hooo-use, coming to you LIVE from our studios on the ever so beautiful radio ship Tharos out here in the Sudrian Sea. We’ve got a very special bit of music for you coming up now in the upcoming hour - it’s a rare daylight sighting of our After-Dark Eurobeat Power Hour! I’m gonna be spinning some CDs and MP3s with the most pulse-pounding beats this side of Mount Akina - so if you’re driving right now, sorry about this.”

As John got smaller and smaller in the distance, the music began to fade in, very gradually.

“And a bit of housekeeping here - we’ve heard from the artist and they’ve had a bit of a name change. Out goes Ken, and in comes Kendra. This is the extended version of “The Top,” by Ken (short for Kendra) Blast.”

Slowly, a piano track began to fill in.

Pip raised an eyebrow, irritation momentarily sidetracked. “Is this really the Eurobeat block, Emma?”

“I think it is,” she said, starting to go along with the intro.

Thomas, who couldn’t hear Pip or the radio, had no idea what she was talking about. He didn’t like the look on her face.

The trucks didn’t either.

“Lads,” the lead container wagon said with gravitas. “We may not make it through today unchanged. It has been an honor serving with you.”

“What?” The low loader that carried the jet engine coughed as the container wagons murmured about honor. He was relatively new, and this was not how he expected his day to be going.

“Laddie,” Thomas’ low loader said gravely, understanding at once what was about to happen. “You’re about to experience something that you’ve never been through before. I’d recommend preparing yourself.”

“What?!” Thomas yelped.

---

Back in Tidmouth, the people in “Control” were staring at the “big board.” For weeks now, the section of line near Kellsthorpe road had been a mess of green, yellow, and red lights, as the P-Way gang slowly finished the banked curve on the station’s east end. Trains, represented by little markers on the computer screen, waited for a free path, oftentimes with large delays, which showed up in flashing red and white boxes.

Now, though, their frustration was finally at an end. The last of the yellow was disappearing, section by section, as the P-Way gang reported that they were clear. Three of the four lines were bright red - clear but with no train signaled through - while the down slow line was a green and yellow stripe. It was getting shorter and shorter, as the little marker labeled 1Q01 moved steadily eastward. That was the New Measurement Train, finishing its final pass of the system.

Behind it, with the box flashing red and white from the delay, was 1B07 - the “Container Express,” already twenty minutes late. More trains were lined up behind it and the NMT, and others were queuing in a line that started at Kellsthorpe Road and went all the way to the mainland.

The yellow segments were almost entirely gone, with just one signal block outside of Kellsthorpe Road left.

There was a five minute safety delay coded into the signal control computers, specifically for when crews were working on the line.

It had been four minutes and fifty six seconds since they’d reported that they were clear.

Four minutes and fifty seven seconds.

Four minutes and fifty eight.

Four minutes and fifty nine.

---

The signal in front of Pip raised with a clonk.

There was still a slight haze to the air from Murgatroyd’s exhaust. In the distance, the plume of sooty white smoke he was making stood out against the clear blue sky like a signal fire.

“Emma?” Anyone with sense would recognize the danger in her tone.

“Yeah?” Unfortunately for everyone else on the train, they couldn’t do anything about it.

“I think we should catch him.”

“I think you’re right.”

In the cab, the driver looked nervously at the rev counter, which had started to climb rapidly.

“Here goes nuthin’,” he said quietly to himself, before advancing the throttle.

The music, which had been slowly building over the last twenty seconds or so, abruptly kicked into a high gear, with a frenetic electronic beat that belted along at 160 beats per minute.

White exhaust belched from the twins’ exhaust, before quickly turning black under the load. Their engines ramped up to an ear-piercing howl, obliterating any sense of quiet at Cronk station.

Thomas once again got a face full of noxious choking clag, and his eyes watered while his hearing was momentarily deafened by the noise of it all.

The train began to pick up speed, and the container wagons groaned in fatalistic anticipation. “It’s all downhill from here!” one of them shouted.

“What?” Thomas hacked from inside the cloud. He couldn’t see anything, and his hearing was ringing like a church bell.

In front, Pip could feel the unrelenting wave of horsepower and diesel surging through her system. She laughed joyously, with Emma soon joining in.

To everyone else, it seemed somewhat maniacal.

🎶 Final lap I'm on top of the world

And I will never rest for second again!

One more time I have beaten them out

The scent of gasoline announces the end! 🎶

The train vanished from sight, on its way towards Killdane. The stationmaster poked his head out of the station door.

“There goes trouble…”

The New Measurement Train rolled through Killdane with fleetfooted ease. The rails were clear and the light train was aided by the downhill gradient. From his position on the rear, John felt like the entire consist was weightless, with barely any effort required to keep the train at speed.

“You think we should go any faster?” he called up the multiple unit connection to Murg. They usually ran at well over 120, but today they’d barely crested 90.

There was a cough over the connection. “Oh, not today. We’re still the fastest train on this backwards island!”

Ah yes. A sudden excuse. Surely that was completely unrelated to the plume of smoke trailing in their wake.

“So, how’s cylinder four feeling today?”

“Shut up.”

John smiled pettily to himself.

In the distance, Killdane got smaller and smaller. A small dot of yellow could just be seen…

---

🎶 They all said I'd best give it up

What a fool to believe their lies!

Now they've fallen and I'm at the top

Are you ready now to die-ie-ie?! 🎶

---

At Killdane, the sounds of the NMT had scarcely faded before the sound of howling diesel engines filled the air. Heads turned to the east just in time to see Pip and Emma hammering around the curve into the station at full throttle.

The curve was banked, but not nearly as steeply as the ones to the west, and there was a piercing screeeeeech of steel on steel as the train whipped past.

“Slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown!” There was also a piercing screech coming from the train’s cargo, as Thomas the Tank Engine felt himself rock back and forth atop the low loader. It really did feel like he was going to fall off!

Pip had a very determined look on her face, eyes focused well into the distance, but those who saw Emma in the brief moment she was in view noted an almost demented smile on her face. She was laughing.

All this happened in just a moment, and then the train was gone, roaring off into the distance at just below the line speed limit. The wind from the train’s passage rattled a lineside sign. It was a white circle with several thin diagonal slashes through it.

It was an “end of speed limit” sign.

🎶 I came up from the bottom

And into the top

For the first time I feel alive

I can fly like an eagle

And strike like a hawk

Do you think you can survive... the top?🎶

John noticed that the small yellow dot in the distance was getting bigger. Squinting, he couldn’t quite see what it was.

Whatever it was, it was slowly gaining on them.

Hang on…He thought.

The cameras that were blanketing his sides were supposed to be recording the lineside for defects, but nobody ever cared about the “going away” view. Very quietly, he “looked” through the lens mounted just above his eyes. It had a nice zoom, and could see much further than he could.

What he saw made him blink and look again. Then a third time. Then a fourth. After looking for a fifth and final time. He finally wrapped his mind around what exactly he was seeing.

“Hey Murg?” he said innocently.

“Yes? What is it?” Murg sounded far more irritated than he should be.

“Think you can get us into the triple digits? Some of the boffins are worried about their readings not being calibrated right.”

“Oh damn them all.” Murg cut the connection with a pained cough. John had a distinct feeling that the Infallible and Most Invulnerable King Murgatroyd was hiding exactly how bad cylinder four really was from everyone, lest he be seen as “weak” or “mortal” by his inferiors.

Well, he thought to himself with a hint of smugness as the train slowly began to increase speed. If he wants to play the perfect king, he’ll have to deal with the locals.

Behind them, Pip and Emma continued to get closer and closer…

---

James and his coaches had been waiting on the dratted P-Way gangers for over half an hour at Kellsthorpe Road, and set off with a will when the signal changed.

Of course, the signaling was all out of sorts, and he was running “wrong main” on the Up Slow line, but he didn’t much care. There wasn’t anyone in front of him, and was making “good” time on his way to Killdane. “Maybe we’ll still make it to Tidmouth before tomorrow!” he joked to his driver, who had long since given up on making light of the situation.

They leaned into the curve heading towards Killdane, and that awful banana of a measurement train streaked by in the other direction. James whistled derisively at it out of reflex more than anything else, and was quietly grateful that the unpleasant train had nothing to say in return.

In the distance, a giddy-sounding honk-honk drew his attention back to the line ahead, and he had just enough time to make out something streaking on the next line over before something-

Honk-Honk! Honk-Honk!

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

-ripped past them with a honk, a roar, and a scream.

“What was that?!” He yelped as the wind buffeted him.

“I think that was Pip and Emma!” his driver said, looking backward. “With a container train!”

“What?!”

---

🎶 One more turn and I'll settle the score

A rubber fire screams into the night

Crash and burn is what you're gonna do

I am the master of the asphalt fight 🎶

---

John watched as Pip and Emma got closer and closer. In a macabre way, he felt giddy about it. At their current speed, they were going to eat Murgatroyd for lunch and still have room for tea afterwards.

He had been paying such close attention to the rapidly-closing distance between the two trains that he completely missed the start of the banked curve until he was leaning into it. The rails bent underneath him and the ties whipped past at an odd angle as the whole world tilted a few degrees. They weren’t going slow, by any means, but the sensitive equipment in the coaches (and his years of experience) told him that they could have been going much faster.

“Oh Murg… you might want to speed up…” he sing-songed. “They’re gaining on us…”

“Who’s gaining on us? What?!” Murgatroyd was oblivious, as was his wont.

John wanted to say something else, but his voice failed him as he watched the container train, with low-loaders on the front, rocket through the curve at speeds that he didn’t even want to contemplate.

A train passed on one of the other lines, and he watched the smoke from its stack get whipped and roiled by air currents of the two trains passing each other.

Seconds later, Pip and Emma passed the train, streaking through the remaining smoke, and the force of their passage tore the cloud to ribbons.

---

🎶They all said I'd best give it up

What a fool, to believe their lie-ie-ies!

Now they've fallen, I'm at the top

Are you ready now to die-ie-ie?🎶

---

Pip was high on speed, and she was loving every second of it.

Emma was right behind her, literally and metaphorically; the sensation of pure motion and velocity was coursing through their systems like a drug.

In front of them, so close one could almost reach out and touch it, was the New Measurement Train. John was watching with restrained giddiness as they started to draw abreast of him. He said something, but the wind whipping by erased all sound. There was just speed, and that was more than enough.

Slowly, they pulled even with the coaches, and with each window they passed, another Network Rail employee could be seen looking up in astonishment.

In Pip’s cab, the driver was holding onto the controls with a white knuckle grip. Officially, he was the driver, he was in control of the train. Realistically, he was nothing more than a rider on a bucking bronco. He surveyed the line ahead, and gulped.

Behind Pip and Emma, Thomas’s eyes were right in the most turbulent part of the wake that followed the diesels. Air, superheated and filled with grit and soot from twin exhausts, poured into his eyes and swirled around his face. He couldn’t hear, he could barely see.

Behind him, the wind whipped through the turbine blades of the jet engine on the next low-loader. It had been secured for transport, so the blades didn’t move, but the wind rushing through it created a high-pitched howling noise that simply added to the cacophony.

Lost in the chaos of the wind and the noise and the exhaust, the container wagons and the low-loaders were holding onto each other for dear life.

“I’m not designed for thiiiiis!” one of them shrieked.

“None of us are!” the wagon ahead of him bellowed. “Just keep holding on a little longer!”

At the head of the NMT, Murgatroyd was trying very hard to ignore the slight off-beat throbbing coming from cylinder four. Something was amiss with it - what it was, he didn’t know for certain. Driver didn’t know either - blasted man hadn’t turned a wrench a day in his life; wouldn’t know the difference between an allen key and the keys to a house!

Of course there weren’t any fitters on board - “economic savings” kept them at home base - so he just had to deal with it.

Just so long as the underlings didn’t notice, everything would be fine-

“Oh Murgatroyd…”

“Yes, John?”

“You might want to look around...”

He looked off towards the Up lines, and was rendered momentarily speechless by the sight of Pip smiling wickedly at him.

“T-that’s not possible,” he said once he found his tongue. “That isn’t possible!”

---

🎶 I came up from the bottom

And into the top

For the first time I feel alive!

I can fly like an eagle

And strike like a hawk

Do you think you can survive...

I came up from the bottom

And into the top

For the first time I feel alive!

I can fly like an eagle

And strike like a hawk

Do you think you can survive... the top?🎶

----

Moments earlier

“So how late do you think we’re going to be?” Percy asked as the train rumbled through Kellsthorpe Road station.

“Oh,” Henry pondered. “We’re only allowed to do 45, and we’ve got to drop off the aluminium at Killdane, so probably two or three hours if we lose our path at all. Which we will.”

“Thomas is going to be absolutely livid when I get back.” Percy said from atop his low loader. “He was supposed to go in for his new cylinder block today, so if I’m not back, they’re going to have him stay in steam all day.”

“Oh, he won’t be thrilled about that.” Henry chortled. “I swear, he’s the only engine who likes going to the works.”

“They treat him the same way James treats himself. Of course he likes going there!”

“Hah! I hadn't considered that-oh dear…” Henry trailed off mid-sentence.

“What?”

“It appears that we’re about to go down the middle between Pip and Emma, and their favorite siblings.”

“What? The banana? Oh great.”

“Yes, they- oh goodness they’re quick-”

Anything else Henry said was lost to the deafening thunderclap made as the New Measurement Train and the Container Express roared past on the opposing lines. The wind felt like it was going to knock him clean off the rails, and Percy yelped in surprise as debris and exhaust fumes swirled around him like a hurricane. His boiler, a stout construction that could hold hundreds of pounds of pressure, felt like it was flexing and bowing from the vibrations in the air. He watched in open-mouthed shock as Henry’s cab windows were sucked out of their frames from the differential pressure, and were hurled through the air followed by every loose object in the cab, from hats and coats, to papers and even a coal shovel!

Behind and in front of Percy, open wagons of stone, and the coal from Henry’s tender sent huge plumes of dust and debris into the air, swirling and mixing into a funnel cloud that wrapped around the rear of the train. It danced in the tornadic airflow for a few seconds, before dissipating as the trains parted once more.

The silence afterwards was deafening.

“DID I LOSE A WINDOW?” Henry asked, almost unable to hear himself speak, as his driver applied the brakes and stopped the train.

Percy tried to make the ringing in his smokebox cease. Closing his eyes, he suddenly remembered seeing something in the fraction of a second before the world went topsy-turvy. “Wait a tic. Was that Thomas?”

“WHAT?”

---

🎶 What were you thinking, telling me to change my game?

This style wasn't going anywhere; it was kaput!

You want to see what I've done with this place; this whole thing?

You want to see that I changed the game?

No, I AM the game!

Before I knew where this was going, I would've listened to you

Right now, I distance myself from what you have to say!

I made this something way bigger than you're ever gonna be

I made it this far; and I'm taking it to the top 🎶

----

Pip and Emma laughed gaily as they overtook the NMT, and powered on towards Kellsthorpe Road like they weren’t towing several hundred tonnes of freight train behind them.

Murgatroyd gaped in shock as he was passed by the steam engine they were carrying as cargo.

The shock quickly turned into outrage, and he felt the red-hot sting of being one-upped surge through his system. His engine began to rev higher, urging the train to move faster damn it.

“Whoa there,” his driver exclaimed, laying a firm hand on the controls. “We want to make it to the mainland, right?”

“I don’t care!” Murgatroyd ground his teeth, watching as the container wagons slipped past him. “They can’t win!”

But no matter how he tried, his driver wouldn’t let him speed up.

He howled and roared impotently as Pip and Emma got further and further ahead.

---

On the platforms of Kellsthorpe Road station, several surveyors were getting measurements of the newly-relaid line.

Looking down the magnified optics of a theodolite, the true character of the railway could be seen. What appeared to be a straight and flat section of line was actually a ribbon of steel that undulated and flowed over the terrain. While certain sections had just been flattened and graded, it was impossible to fully eliminate the contours of the earth without starting from scratch, and so the line rolled with the small hills and invisible valleys instead of cutting right through them.

“Hey, look at that.” One of the other surveyors said from behind an optical level. “You can see the NMT from here.”

“Can you?” asked his coworker, who quickly pointed his theodolite down the line. “I don’t see it.”

“It’s just gone behind the dip. Should be back in a moment.”

He fixed his eyes on the dip in the terrain. It was actually visible to the naked eye, but its height differential - deemed to be “within acceptable limits” - and its presence directly under a road bridge - meant that it had survived the recent track relaying unscathed.

The surveyors waited for the train to reappear, the optics of their measurement devices making things appear much larger than they really were.

With that in mind, it was something of a surprise to see an HST appear two tracks over from where the NMT had been. They both looked to that line just in time for the train to crest the hill.

There was a brief moment, no longer than a breath, where both men could see daylight shine underneath the train as all the wheels left the ground.

----

Pip and Emma hooted and hollered with glee as they roared through the approach to Kellsthorpe Road station. High speed crossovers and the new banked curve meant they didn’t have to check their speed in the slightest as they charged onwards.

The station came and went in a flash, and they leaned into the new corner at unprecedented speeds. Behind them, Thomas wailed loud enough to be heard over their motors, but they paid him little mind; they didn’t realize - or understand - exactly what he was experiencing.

Behind them, now far into the distance, the New Measurement Train was just rolling into the station.

They had won.

---

🎶 I came up from the bottom

And into the top

For the first time I feel alive!

I can fly like an eagle

And strike like a hawk

Do you think you can survive...

I came up from the bottom

And into the top

For the first time I feel alive!

I can fly like an eagle

And strike like a hawk

Do you think you can survive... the top? 🎶

----

Further up the line, Bertie the bus was pulling up to a level crossing, just as the gates went down.

“That was a great song on the radio, wasn’t it?” he said to his driver, who was thoroughly regretting turning on ManxPirate, thanks very much. “I feel like I should be racing something! Ooh! I know! The next train that comes by, we’ll try and chase it, huh? Just like the old times with Thomas!”

Honk-Honk

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

Whooooooooooooooooooooosh

The train passed in just a few seconds.

“Nevermind.”

-----

The song wound down to a stop, but Pip and Emma continued charging on.

The guard went so far as to pull the fuse on the radio, hoping that it would calm them down, but they were too far gone to consider dropping their speed until they reached Crovan’s Gate station. There, the speed limit dropped to 90; normally a mild inconvenience, but today it felt like they’d dropped an anchor behind them.

Still, they continued merrily along through the station as fast as was allowed (much to Thomas’s dismay) and continued east along the line.

As they cleared the station and began to speed up again, they noticed a cloud of smoke on the horizon.

There was still one more train they could catch…

-----

Compared to everyone else in this story, Gordon was having a blissfully uneventful day. He’d managed to put that vulgar measurement train almost totally out of his mind, and was making excellent time to the mainland when one considered the workmen-caused delay at Kellsthorpe Road.

There was a farm lane that crossed the tracks near Henry’s tunnel, and he whistled for it.

Honk-Honk

He was most surprised to hear a horn respond to him, and was flabbergasted to see Pip, then Emma, and then Thomas pass him like he was standing still!

“HiGordonByeGordon!” “HiGordonByeGordon!” “GORDON HELP ME!”

The train raced into the tunnel and vanished from sight.

Gordon could not believe what he had seen!

----

Eventually, the speed limits dropped, and the four track main line merged into two just after Vicarstown. Rolling over the lift bridge at a sedate twenty miles an hour Pip and Emma finally began to come down off their “runner’s really high.”

“That was great!” Pip gushed. “Just the sort of run we needed to clear everything out, am I right?”

“Uh, Pip?” Emma began to notice the state of Thomas. “I think we miiiiight have overdone this a little.”

Thomas could only whimper in agreement!

----

By the time the New Measurement Train rolled into Barrow station some thirty minutes later, Pip, Emma, and Gordon were all trying to console Thomas, to limited success.

“...Ahem!” Murgatroyd tried to slink into the station totally unnoticed, but John had no compunctions about making sure they were seen. “So, I assume that you two will be conducting all of this railway’s freight services from now on?”

“Oh,” Pip’s smile was very guilty looking as she turned away from the still shell-shocked Thomas. “Yeah. About that…” She swallowed deeply. “I’m… sorry about… y’know. All of that. The overtake.”

“What, me? Overtaken?” Murgatroyd tried and failed to play dumb. Well, a different kind of dumb from usual. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Pip’s smile grew much harder edged, and Gordon took the moment to intercede. “Look, Pip. You don’t owe that any apology of any form.”

Murgatroyd looked aggrieved. Gordon turned on him next. “And you. You are an uncouth abomination who have done nothing useful at all. Take the apology, cause no more trouble, and find yourself a better attitude elsewhere.”

Murgatroyd puffed himself up with self-righteous fury, and John regretted being an instigator.

“WELL, I-” He started.

“Oh shut up!” Thomas bellowed. “Stop talking before I come down there and peel you, you great useless banana! Everything that’s happened to me today is all your fault!”

Murgatroyd quailed under the impressive amount of vitriol Thomas was spewing, and he left in a chastised burst of soot and clag. John followed in his wake, not sure what, if anything to say. “Bye Pip. Bye Emma.”

Once the NMT had vanished from sight, Pip, Emma, and Gordon turned their attention back to Thomas.

“Great useless banana?” Gordon raised an eyebrow.

Thomas didn’t have the energy for a proper comeback, and simply stared at him knowingly.

“Fine, fine,” Gordon acknowledged the unsaid. “For an off-the-buffer moment after the day you’ve had, it was a fine jab. I’m just glad that you’re beginning to feel more like yourself.” He began to steam off towards the shed. “As such, I’ll be off.”

“Wait!” Thomas called. “Where are you going? Who’s taking me on the pick-up goods?”

“Thomas, I don’t take the pick-up goods,” Gordon called regally. “That’s what we have diesels for. I believe there’s two of them right in front of you!”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!”

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

Post script: Low-loaders were subsequently banned from Pip and Emma's trains

#ttte #sodor #sodor shenangians #fic #trains #traintober #ttte gordon #ttte james #ttte boco #ttte henry #ttte edward #ttte thomas #ttte pip&emma #music #eurobeat #ttte percy #and just to make something clear #every aspect of this story has some kind of IRL basis #even that one

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comfortless · 1 year ago

Text

Outside they say you’re alright (chapter 1 of ?)

🌱 PAIRING: König x fem!reader 🌾 CONTENT: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. fae au. blanket warning for death, violence, very light horror elements <— comes with the territory; all of this being said it’s still cozy and sweet here!!, not even remotely canon compliant, slow burn, eventual smut. chapter specific warnings: animal death (bird), implied ghoap, minor character death (but not really, hold tight!), non-consensual cuddling. 🍃 NOTES: this is my first time writing in a long stretch, but after finishing Meeting the Other Crowd i had to write this lest i wound up chewing thru my own fist. later chapters may have additional warnings added. not proofread. wc: 7.9k

next ->

The season of turning leaves, of the harvest moon, of a waning veil; it feels as though the entire world calls for change. Packing to move feels less arduous when the very earth is moving along with you, shifting her shape to bring in the autumn, the winter. Autumn feels less intense in the city. Concrete and vehicles don’t naturally shed their skins, hibernate, bed down and cozy up by a warm hearth. There’s a significant lack of trees and wildlife, all uprooted and shed away to make room for more human comforts. It’s never felt like home to you.

It’s almost funny how in your desperation to be untethered from an unwelcoming, pristine and metallic skyline, you’ve managed to neatly pack away your entire life into a mere two bags. Everything that wasn’t utterly necessary or sentimental donated or tossed into the garbage behind your former apartment. You know it’s a silly thing to believe a new roof over your head in an unfamiliar town a few hours venture away will change your entire life, but just as the leaves turn you feel it’s your moment to follow suit.

Kate hadn’t made you pay anything in advance. No deposits, no frivolous faxing of paperwork, Kate had requested nothing but email correspondence, and perhaps that should have set off some instinctual alarm bell in your head. Yet, you had been in contact with this woman for weeks, and you hadn’t picked up on anything odd in the eloquent responses Kate had given. The woman answered all of your questions with ease, and even had the decency to ask if there was anything she could do to make the move more bearable.

You found Kate’s listing on craigslist of all places— a humble little ad showing off a barren room in a small cottage located in the middle of nowhere, some mountainside town down south that you had never heard the name of prior. It was impulse that led you to reach out, typing out a sloppily worded email in the midst of another sleepless night expressing your interest in the room and a few words about yourself. Kate didn’t waste any time with her response, declaring that she felt you would fit in well in the home and things progressed naturally. You had decided that you liked Kate already.

But nothing could have prepared you for actually meeting Kate Laswell.

As you park your little, beaten down sedan in the forested driveway, you takes a moment to calm your nerves. A six hour drive has left you feeling as though you’re in an entirely different world— around the midway point in your journey was the last time you had actually seen a town. There’s a sense of apprehension building, and yet it does little to fully snuff out the excitement.

The cottage laid out before you is off-white in color with a grayish-brown roof, blanketed by tendrils of hedera helix curling up each corner of the home and meeting in a cluster on the roof. The fence surrounding the property, wooden and worn seemed more decorative than any protection against anything getting in or out. ‘Quaint’ was the only word that seemed to come to mind as you step out of the vehicle and move to the trunk to collect your meager belongings.

And as the trunk of the vehicle slams shut, you’re met with the sight of a gentle-looking woman sprinting toward you from the cottage, a bright, welcoming smile on her face and an oversized yellow cardigan draped ‘round her shoulders. “So glad you made it,” Kate greets warmly. “Need help with your bags?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Didn’t bring much.” You reply, and for the first time in months, you feel your heart begin to settle in your chest. This was good. The stress of the city seemed to retract its claws from your shoulders the moment you take a good look at Kate and the cottage behind her. The woman is older, soft lines visible on her face. She was fragile looking like a twittering little bird, but there was something in her eyes that suggested she was much more than her stature. Maybe not a robin at all, but a red-tailed hawk instead. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and the clothing she wore looked comfortable, a loose fitting white blouse, jeans, and the cardigan you wonder if she may have even knitted herself.

“Well, come in then. We’ll get you settled and have tea, or whiskey if you would prefer it.” Kate says with a wink, taking you by the hand and pulling you up the gravel-laden trail towards the door. Sparrows are nesting in the trees above, clover, sourgrass and wildflowers springing up in a viridian and brown blanket beneath your feet, and the dirt feels far more forgiving against the soles of your boots than the pavement of the city ever did. This already feels like home. “Just tea would be fine.”

Kate shows you around the cottage with pride, and you find that it’s entirely deserved. The home is immaculately tidy, albeit a tad cluttered. The woman had all sorts of strange baubles and crafts lining walls and shelves, books of all nature (even an extensive romance section you had found yourself drawn to, Kate had laughed at the sight of your eyes lingering on the spines as you read the suggestive titles), her furniture was all clean and patterned. Your room nearly brings you to tears. It was still rather empty, just as the pictures in the listing had suggested, with only a bed, dresser and vanity furnishing it. However, in the windowsill sits a blue planter with your name delicately painted on the front of it.

“A lily,” Kate informs you, smiling soft as you gaze down at the little green bulb in the pot. You ghost your fingertips over the rim of it as you tilt your head to look back at Kate, both confusion and gratefulness painting your expression. Kate’s smile doesn’t waver as she steps to your side and gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze. Her kindness has already made you trusting, and it seems with every action she takes you feel more at peace, as though Kate were merely an estranged aunt rather than a complete stranger. “I thought a lily might suit you. It might still be early enough for her to bloom.” You whisper a thanks, returning her smile with one of your own. The thoughtfulness of such a simple gesture warms your heart in a way that you hadn’t felt in some time. You make a mental note to read up on plant care to ensure Kate’s gift doesn’t go neglected.

She waits to lead you into the kitchen and dining area until after you had put away your things and have properly seen your room. The rooms are just as well cared for as the rest of the cottage, every item in its proper place, the sink cleared and a knitted doily placed in the center of the range. The table is what catches your eye most of all though— a fat loaf of fresh baked bread placed carefully on a platter next to small serving dishes filled with honey and jam, a tea kettle and two floral painted mugs set neatly just beside the display. It looks more like a painting than any meal you’ve seen before, far too accustomed to quick snacks and dull fast food bags. In the city, working so much just to ensure that you still had your apartment to come back to, the time it would take to prepare something even as simple as this was never something you could expend.

“This looks… it’s lovely, Miss Laswell,” You breathe out shyly, taking a seat at the table, your fingers flexing slightly. This kind of welcoming felt so foreign, not that you minded it. Not at all.

“Please just call me Kate.” She says with a laugh, pouring out a generous mug of tea for you and sliding it across the table as she takes place on the opposite end. Her smile is infectious, warming your heart and causing the corners of your mouth to tug upward, too.

“Kate.” You say aloud, committing it to memory. You wanted to be respectful. This was her home, you were just a temporary guest after all. You accept the mug of tea with a thankful nod of acknowledgement before taking a small sip. Warm. Everything about Kate’s home and her demeanor is so warm. Even in the midst of autumn, there’s no chill here, only tenderness and warmth as though some invisible hearth roars in the corner of every room. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.”

Kate hesitates for a moment, and had you blinked you would have missed the way her thin shoulders seemed to tense and the lines at the corners of her mouth visibly tightened. She parts her lips to speak, eying you carefully before… she merely reaches across the table to slice you off a plump helping of the bread, scooting the bowls of jam and honey in your direction.

You wonder if somehow your words had offended her, and you wished you could retract them, snatch the fluttering of your voice from thin air, but as quickly as that thought comes, Kate sighs.

“Well, I haven’t been entirely upfront with you, dear,” Kate begins in a soft voice, tilting her head as she sips her own tea. Your eyes widen in surprise at her words, uncertain as to what weight they carry. Your thoughts immediately veer in the worst direction— perhaps she wasn’t offering the room as long as the listing stated, and you had no where else to go. Perhaps someone else lived here too, someone dangerous.

“What do you mean?”

“The neighbors come around sometimes.” She says, and it almost pulls a giggle from you. Neighbors? You hadn’t seen any other homes on the way up here, and having lived in an apartment complex you were used to all manner of folks, from the loud, the strange, the elderly and standoffish. You give her a little shrug in response, unsure of what to say to such a silly thing.

“You’ve just got to understand how to deal with them if you see them,” Kate continues, her mouth pressed to a thin line as she regards you. There’s that sharp look in her eye that suggests she really isn’t kidding around, that there may even be a threat if you didn’t hold what she says next with the highest regard. You feel a swell of unease, but give the woman your rapt attention, not even bothering with the bread on your plate despite the way your stomach grumbles, quiet but demanding. “Don’t eat their food, never give them your name. Don’t thank them either, even if you break your ankle on a hike and one stops to help. No thanking them.”

You laugh. This had to be some silly joke, harmless hazing for the new roomie. Your mirthful giggles die in your throat when you meet Kate’s gaze again and her expression is entirely grave— gone was the soft smile and the twinkle in her eyes, and you’re quickly reminded as to why you thought of a hawk when you first saw that look in her eye.

“Kate… I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

She toys with the handle of her mug for a moment, watching as if to ensure your amusement has entirely died out before she graces you with another word. “Dear, I know I sound like I have bats in the belfry, but I need you to listen to me.” A heavy sigh leaves her lips after her words and her brow pinches as if she’s trying to consider the best possible way to explain this farfetched idea of her neighbors to you in a way that’s easy enough to digest without giving too much away. “Perhaps meeting one of them would be the best way to show you.” She mumbles as she sets her mug aside and stands from her chair. You remain dumbstruck in your seat, watching as she pulls her yellow cardigan tighter around herself before fumbling around in the kitchen to retrieve a small woven basket. Kate places two thick slices of bread inside and the little dish of honey too as you watch on.

“Sure.” You say with a quizzical tilt of your head. You didn’t want to insult your new roommate further, and she seemed deadly serious about this strange concept. Maybe it was best to appease her, and meeting other folks that lived out here didn’t seem like too arduous a task. Kate flashes you that smile again as you agree and offers the basket out to you. Your fingers curl around the stiff handle as you stand and bring it closer to your person.

“There’s a little walking trail out back that leads straight up the hill to the cemetery. Ghost should be there.”

“Ghost?” A ghost in the cemetery. How fitting.

Kate breathes a laugh and shakes her head. You’re pleased to see the tension has left her, she seemed at ease and just as sweet as she had when she rushed to greet you earlier. “Not really a ghost,” she explains with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’ll see. He’s a bit… prickly at times, but he’s harmless enough. Just take him the bread and you’ll see.” Harmless, you want to tell her, is what most people should be expected to be without graceful description. ‘Are the others harmful, then?’, your mind supplies, as if trying to make you feel closer to a side character in some low budget horror film. Something was certainly off here, but you don’t find yourself questioning it further.

Kate leads you to the back door, unlatching a chain lock before unlocking the deadbolt and pushing the door open. The hinges whine as she directs you toward the trail with a pointed finger. And, with an encouraging pat on the shoulder, she pushes you out of the door. You can hear the tinkling of the chain and the thump of the deadbolt as she locks it behind her. You don’t know whether to side more with the anxiety building in your chest or the frustration burning at your stomach after finding yourself in this situation. So maybe Kate did have ‘bats in the belfry’ as she had called it. What woman would have invited a complete stranger to come live with her in the middle of no where, after all. But this was only your first day here, and you knew you had to make the most of it. Where else could you possibly go?

At least she was nice. The tea had been perfect, too. With a sigh, you decide to overlook her eccentricities for now as you start walking towards the trail. Your pace is brisk, orange and red fallen leaves crunching with each step as you meander up the thin, forested trail. The chill of an autumn breeze pushes through the trees with ease, shaking a flurry of dead leaves from dark branches to whirl around you, one landing gently on the shoulder of your coat. You pluck it off, twirling the stem between the fingers of your free hand as you walk.

The cemetery comes into view about half an hour later. The peaks of moss covered tombstones rise up over the hill, and you’re surprised to find that the old graveyard isn’t entirely overgrown. Some thorn bushes border the backside of the small clearing, trees towering so high to either side it almost roofs the area in entirely apart from a center circle where sunlight beams in. It’s quiet apart from the splintering of leaves beneath your soles and it dawns on you that you haven’t heard a sound not pulled from your own being since you started your short journey here.

You look around for this supposed ‘Ghost’ for a few moments, scanning both behind and above the tombstones. There’s nothing and no one to be seen, just a heavy silence and carpeting moss over stone that hasn’t been touched in what looked like centuries. You didn’t want to return too soon for fear of Kate not taking too kindly to it, you couldn’t run the risk of being cast out, even if the thought of her doing such a thing already felt uncharacteristic and outlandish.

So, you kneel in front of a larger headstone, fishing out a slice of bread from the basket and smoothing honey over it with the butter knife Kate had placed inside. The engraving was entirely illegible, worn away by the elements, and with so much moss encompassing it you doubt you could have read it anyway even if it hadn’t been so neglected. The bread, still warm and soft is nibbled at as you inspect some of the other graves, all in the same state of disrepair. A part of you wishes you had plucked some wildflowers on the walk, perhaps you could have given some restless spirit the satisfaction of not being forgotten.

A clipped ‘woof’ pries you from your thoughts, a deep and breathy sound that sends a chill down each bony knob of your spine as you whip around to face whatever had made the noise. You’re met with the view of a massive dog standing a mere three meters away. The animal’s fur was a coarse, wiry black, it’s eyes just as dark. It regards you with its ears flattened back against its skull, dark lips pulled back in a snarl, though it doesn’t growl. In fact, the creatures tail betrays this display of intimidation as it wags lazily behind it.

You break a corner of the bread off and extend your hand out to the dog, cooing softly to it and encouraging it to approach. The dog huffs, ears flicking forward. It watches you for several long moments before stiffly walking towards you, accepting the bread into its large mouth and swallowing it down without so much as a courtesy chew. Up close, you can’t discern what breed of dog this is at all. His ears were long and floppy, descending down past his maw, his hair looked stiff and rough almost like a wolfhound’s but it was much shaggier, longer.

“Good boy.” You chirp, reaching up to lightly ghost your fingers over the crown of the dog’s skull. The dog recoils with another huff, and for a moment you almost think you see his eyes narrow as if he were glaring at you— a silent ‘do not touch’. Your hand retreats and you mutter an apology out to the creature. The dog doesn’t move, standing still as a statue as it watches you fiddle with the handle of the basket and rise to your feet.

So, no Ghost, but you did meet a dog. That would have to do for now. You were exhausted from the drive, and more than anything you wanted to be in the warmth of a building, away from the volatile breeze and the eerie silence of the graveyard.

“Wait.” A voice rasps as you turn back to the trail. Everywhere and no where at once it comes and the feeling that arrives with it, so peaceful yet uncanny. Just like before, you don’t hear the dog approach, but you feel the cold of a wet nose press against your palm. His mouth opens, grazing your fingertips with his teeth as you whip your head around to look down at the creature, eyes wide and brows raised in shock. What?

You wrench your hand away from the dog, uncertainty sending a violent shiver down your spine. Surely the animal couldn’t’ve …

“F’me, wasn’t it?”

It’s not your mind playing tricks from the emptiness of the graveyard.

The dog spoke, rough and deep and accented.

The creature’s tail wags languidly behind him as he stares up at you expectantly, big paws placed firmly in a moss bed below with long, black claws curved into it.

“P-pardon?” You manage to breathe out, voice tight as your chest rises and falls rapidly with shallow, panicked breaths. This was impossible, you knew it. As a child you had spent countless hours trying to get your childhood pet to utter a single ‘I love you’ to no avail, and yet this dog before you seemed to find human speech as simple as inhaling or flicking his ears. The dog huffs, his dark eyes rolling, and you realize the animal does not simply speak, it finds you amusing too.

He noses at the basket, sniffling deeply at the food within before peering up at you in silent demand. You part your lips in a small ‘o’, lowering the basket to the mossy floor. The dog doesn’t spare you another glance as his tongue lolls out to lap at the dish of honey and draw the bread between rows of hungry teeth. He eats quickly and with all the grace of any normal canine, crumbs dotting the fur surrounding his mouth as he raises his head to regard you.

“You just… you spoke to me?” You question, your knees wobbling in surprise. Perhaps if he didn’t have the look of a cute dog, you would have been more fearful. “You talk?”

The dog tilts his head before sniffing at your boot for a moment only to raise his head back as he settles onto his haunches. The animals ears perk up, still flopping at the ends, almost covering his dark eyes.

“You smell like Kate.” He speaks, but his mouth doesn’t move. In fact, his entire body remains rigid and still, a graveyard statue blessed with the breath of life.

Something clicks as his words register. This isn’t just some extraordinary talking dog, this was the Ghost Kate had mentioned. Your eyes finally relax, there’s no more look of surprise, there’s no more unease. Having a talking dog for a neighbor seemed so much better than dealing with Mr. Thomson, stumbling back into the apartment complex after a long night drinking, singing his curses to the city, to the world itself.

Ghost was just fine.

Emboldened by this sudden realization, you reach out to the dog again. “Ghost,” you say with a hint of a smile. “You’re awful cute, aren’t you?” A giggle escapes you as you see he’s not moving away this time, but diligently sniffing at your hand. The dog pauses after a moment, flashing a hint of teeth at you. It’s not aggressive, you realize. Perhaps, he’s not the best with people.

“An’ you’re awful chummy, girl.” The dog snorts, turning his head away indignantly. So this one had a bit of an attitude, you let it roll off the shoulder. Surely he would warm up, talking or not, most stray dogs had a tendency to. You retract your hand and collect the empty basket and the dog gives you a slight nod in approval.

“I’ll walk ya back.”

— — —

The walk back to Kate’s cottage felt longer than the hike up to the graveyard. Ghost didn’t seem very keen on talking to you, despite his offer to escort you home. He padded in front of you with hurried steps, only circling back to nip at your heels every now and then if he felt you were trailing too far behind him. You didn’t yet know that there were other eyes in the forest observing the two of you. Each time a branch snapped behind or to either side of you, or when footsteps or laughter could be heard some distance away, Ghost would dart behind you to mouth at the leather of your boot with a low growl to keep you from looking at anything apart from the roof of the cottage as you approached.

After the third bite, with the cottage in full view you finally stop in your tracks, reaching down to ruffle his ears. “Why do you keep doing that?” You ask, an air of annoyance to your tone as you note the indents of fangs in your boots— the only pair of shoes you had even brought with you, already covered in drool and bite marks by some magical dog you hardly knew.

Ghost snorts, dark eyes locked on your face as he circles back around you. “You’ve got lead in your head or your shoes girl, which is it?”

You puff your cheeks in a slight pout, half a mind to knock his fuzzy head with the basket in your hands. “Neither,” you mutter, carrying on towards the cottage. “Stop biting me.”

Ghost shakes his shaggy head, opting to press his mouth to your hand in a silent order to get you moving again. You oblige, leaving the dog behind as you make it to the back door of the small house. You knock once, and already hear the sounds of the locks unlatching just beyond the wooden door. The door swings open, and Kate stands there in silence. face paled.

Ghost lets out a low bark somewhere behind you as you wave him off. Kate smiles broadly at the dog before turning to look at you just as he scampers back up the trail, no doubt back to the graveyard he had appeared in.

“I apologize, dear,” she breathes out, ushering you back inside. She looks incredibly apologetic as she takes your shoulders and turns you around to face her. Her tone remains a cross between stern and reassuring, and you feel a swell of guilt, almost like you should be comforting her rather than the opposite.

You explain to her that Ghost didn’t frighten you, and she settles immediately, a sigh of relief leaving her lips. You return the basket to its proper place, stored on a shelf high up in the pantry as you tell Kate about your interaction with the strange, talking graveyard dog.

“Sounds like he likes you.” Kate responds followed with a soft laugh. You notice she’s cleared the table of breakfast, only neatly crocheted doilies in place of where the two of you had sat earlier that morning. “He wouldn’t speak to me the first day we met.”

You shake your head in protest, gesturing towards the marks from his teeth in your boot. “He bit me!” You whine, earning another laugh from Kate. You crouch down to untie your boots, pulling them off of your feet, the woman kneels next to you and pries the boots from your hands with gentle, aged hands. She runs her thumb over the indentations with a hum.

“I should be able to fix them.”

“Really?”

Kate nods, standing to her feet and offering you her free hand. You take it, straightening yourself out. The room smells of lemongrass and lavender, the flickering glow of a large candle placed neatly on a side table housing a few choice pieces of fine china.

You watch as Kate takes your boots to her room, no doubt where whatever supplies she deemed useful enough to fix them lay in wait. She returns roughly a half hour later with them graciously repaired, and you’re uncertain of how she’s managed such a feat to the extent she has— no more indentations, no scuffs on the leather. They look new, something you haven’t seen since the day you purchased them.

You thank her graciously with a little bow of your head and you and Kate fall into a comfortable conversation. She tells you that there are many others like Ghost, that some of them look human but aren’t, that some are no more than groaning shadows or looming abysses of fur and sharp claws. Kate diligently reiterates her rules from earlier, and though you weren’t quite sure you believed her entirely about the dangers of these ‘neighbors’, you nod along enthusiastically.

“So, if Ghost is just a dog, why doesn’t he live here? With you? Winter gets cold in places like this,” you breathe out, seated on the opposite end of the floral patterned loveseat next to Kate.

“Oh? He didn’t show you then.” Kate laughs. She’s brewed another kettle of tea and she dispenses the amber fluid between two mugs. “I suppose he didn’t want to frighten you off, but he’s no dog.”

Your eyes widen, and you’re uncertain as to why Kate’s words fill you with dread, a cold spike through the chest that sends a shiver down each ridge of your spine. Ghost hadn’t hurt you, of course. He didn’t even seem to be entertaining any idea other than eating and walking you home. Maybe a bit pushy, but otherwise a proper gentle…dog. Your head tilts, wordlessly asking Kate to fully explain what Ghost may have been hiding.

“He’s a big guy,” is all she says as she takes a long sip from her tea. You open your mouth to speak again, but all of a sudden the scent of tobacco fills your lungs, swirls around the entire room as though it was emanating from the walls itself. You stifle a cough with your palm pressed flat against your lips and Kate laughs. Yet, as you glance about the den, you see no one else. Paranoia? But Kate seemed to have smelled it too. “Not me, dear.” She says quietly.

“… what are they?” You question, voice wavering. The scent of tobacco seems to grow stronger then dissipate after a few moments only to return.

“The good folk,” comes Kate’s immediate reply as she stands, clapping her palms against her thighs with an exasperated sigh. She tilts her head to look down at you with a small smile. “This one’s nice enough, too. Don’t worry.” Despite the waves of scent that drift in and out of the room, nothing else seems to appear. With everything that’s happened today, a part of you expects to meet with a sentient cigarette at Kate’s words, but… nothing.

— — —

As the days pass, you and Kate fall into a sort of routine. The woman will tell you the most unbelievable things with a smile on her face, and you find almost too quickly that everything she says is true. This place feels holy in a sense. It’s no church, but things of myth seem to embedded themselves into the walls, singing like a choir in the dead of night. You swear you hear Kate talking to someone some nights, a man’s voice booming through the cottage. They share laughs and the scent of a cigar ebbs and flows, but every time you’ve tried to steal a peek at this visitor, he seems to vanish the moment you step out of your room. Maybe you would think him rude if you knew for certain he existed at all.

Your mind tends to play tricks after the stress of leaving behind everything you knew, uprooting your entire life to come here. On the second day, you lose your car keys. You had placed them on your nightstand and you knew it, but the following morning they were no where to be found. On the third night, you wake up on your side in bed, the sound of someone breathing deeply behind you sending a swell of dread from the base of your neck down to the heels of your feet. Sleep paralysis, you tell yourself, but you knew you had pulled the blanket a bit tighter around yourself when it happened, stealthily tried to move your foot to see if you could feel anyone. You could move, it had been real.

It’s on the fourth day that your heart sinks in your chest. You wake to morning light flooding through the curtains, the chirping of birds in the willow just outside of your window. As you sit yourself up and wipe at your eyes with the meat of your palms, you realize the potted lily Kate had gifted to you is gone. Plants don’t just get up and walk, using their leaves to tug up their pots as if it were trousers as they saunter away on thin, wiry root legs. You feel like your sanity is slipping when you check the window and realize it’s still locked. Even though the lily was just a plant, you feel a sense of grief at the fact you couldn’t find it anywhere— not beneath the bed, in any drawer, the closet or… anywhere in the cottage.

You finally give in and decide to ask Kate, to which she explains that this event isn’t uncommon. You expected her to be upset (with what you believed to be your own irresponsibility), but she remains kind as always, tells you it will turn back up when you least expect it and ushers you to the kitchen to prepare breakfast with you, coffee, omelettes and bowls filled with blackberries.

“You could try asking Ghost,” Kate offers, “He seems fond of you, perhaps he took it.”

You bite back the urge to ask her how a dog could have possibly broken into your room and stolen a potted plant. The very image of it seemed silly, a beast like him biting down on the clay pot to, what? Haul it off to rest it atop some long-forgotten soul’s grave? Instead, you toy with the eggs on your plate, still feeling a bit strange about the entire ordeal.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Don’t be afraid,” the woman speaks up again. The expression on her face, oddly sheepish, doesn’t suit her well. A silent ‘don’t leave�� buried beneath her words, written clear as day in the sullen look in her eyes.

The trek to the graveyard feels heavier this time around. The dog isn’t what has your skin crawling, it’s the ever-present feeling that something just beyond your field of view is lying in wait, eyes trained solely on your form. You swear you can feel a puff of breath on the back of your neck a time or two, almost causing you to trip over a cluster of fallen pine cones and other forest debris. It’s silent, as always, and as much as your eyes scan through fallen leaves and bent branches, you can’t make out the sight of anything scampering about, not so much as a squirrel or a proud cardinal. It’s strange how empty a place teeming with life can feel at times when something lurks coaxing the other creatures to silence lest they fall victim to sharp fangs. Even you, you find, have taken to subconsciously adjusting your strides as to not step on too many fallen leaves, avoiding twigs as though making a peep at all would be a death sentence.

Making your way to the hill littered in graves only makes it feel more certain, that steady drip of dread telling you that death was nipping at your heels. Though, a part of you considers that’s just Ghost’s presence. Black shulk, a keeper of fairy mounds, a harbinger of death.

You’re not met with the presence of a wiry-haired dog this time though, but a man clad in black, face concealed by the frontal bones of a human skull with all but the jaw mostly there. Tall and bulky, the thin fabric of a tunic barely concealing the rigid musculature beneath. There’s a moment of panic, so brief the swell and fall leaves you breathless, before you realize looking into those eyes that this was still the dog you had met before. Different, but still just as haunted and weary. There’s a misplaced sense of peace with Ghost; a wolf taking to shepherding a lamb rather than devouring it.

“Ghost?” You call to him, and he tilts his head ever so slightly, attention pulled from whatever duty he feels that he owes to this cemetery. Some instinctual guardianship, perhaps, rooted just as deeply in his fae blood as the pride and fear in your humanity.

“Yes?”

The dog, man, whatever he may be doesn’t seem to have a care that you see him as he is now, his focus returning to the same tombstone you had kneeled beside the day you met him, thick fingers roving over the mossy stone. He’s not clearing it away, you notice, merely looking it over and it dawns on you that perhaps, in some distant past that this was someone he once knew. Had he waited at their side during their end? Pressed his muzzle to their palm in a kiss of death? Your fingers twitch at your side as your feet move on auto-pilot, arriving at his side before you seat yourself next to him.

Ghost smells of sulfur, of pine and morning dew. Not death as you had expected. He smells of spring mornings and hazy summer afternoons, scorched earth and vibrant meadows all in one. Purgatory made flesh, a passerby between heaven and hell.

“Did you steal my lily?” The words seem entirely outlandish as they spill from your mouth, and you realize how stupid you sound the second he cocks his head to look you over beneath the skull concealing the majority of his face from you. He doesn’t have to give you an answer, really, because you know he didn’t take it, but he still gives you the courtesy of a slow shake of his head. “Well, it’s gone.” You say quietly, drawing your gaze away from him as you look to the tombstone before the both of you. You can see it now, the name. Johnny MacTavish.

“Don’t know anything about it,” Ghost utters, his dark eyes remaining trained on you, but his hand moves to the soil beneath his feet. There’s a certain reverence to his touch as he splays his hand across the earth. This ‘Johnny’ must have been important to him in some capacity. Not a kiss of death at all, you realize then. Whatever Ghost was, he had the propensity to love, to grieve.

“Oh.” You breathe soft, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. A heavy silence hangs in the air for a moment. You hadn’t meant to interrupt him during such a sensitive time, but there’s some flicker in his eyes when you look up at him that suggests a semblance of gratitude that you’re here. “… you knew him?” Your force the question from your tongue, and Ghost merely turns his head to look at the stone before him, eyes somber as they trace over the engraved name as though he were reading poetry.

“That I did.”

You both sit in silence for a time. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want to leave him to haunt this place alone anymore, and a more rational part that tells you that he belongs here, tethered to this Johnny’s side for the rest of his days. Ghost seems less tense in your presence, almost soothed by the silence it seemed as his broad shoulders go slack and he pays his silent respects to this buried man by way of gentle touch and a barely contained softness in his eyes. The silence feels neither awkward nor unfamiliar, it’s as gentle as a breeze passing through. You picture what this man must have been like, to steal the heart of someone like Ghost, even in death. You don’t ask, despite the questions burning in your throat. In due time, perhaps.

An hour passes before you force up the will to leave him, and just like the last time, Ghost walks you home. There’s no more pushing, no ushering you to look forward or walk faster. The man would never voice it, but something about the way he looks at you now tells you there’s some newfound respect budding up in his chest like a wildflower.

The silence is only broken as you reach the door to Kate’s home.

“Somethin’s got its eye on you, lovie.” You whip your head around to question him, but find the man has already gone.

— — —

You return empty handed, noting that Kate’s car was no longer parked in the gravel driveway. A note on the refrigerator door reads ‘Out. Be back soon!’. It’s the first time that you’ve found yourself alone in the cottage, but you have the sense to tell you that you’re not entirely alone. Even the mottled white and blue wallpaper, some faux marble pattern, makes you feel as though you’re being watched, as though something you’re just not seeing is tucked away beneath those colors observing you with the eyes of a starved wolf.

And it’s quiet, it’s so quiet that it makes that unease grow. You’re repeating Ghost’s words in your head like a strange mantra.

Somethin’s got its eye on you, lovie.

Why didn’t he elaborate? Did he even know? Could he know?

The house settles, a floorboard creaks loudly and that’s enough to spur you to hide away in your room, at least until Kate returns.

Your room feels like small sanctuary as you shut the door behind you and let out a shaky breath. The calm is only interrupted when you notice the dead sparrow lying neatly atop your bedsheets, it’s wings spread out, feet tucked against its tiny body and it’s eyes closed. It looked peaceful, not brutally marred and yet the sight alone pulls a gasp from your throat as your eyes grow wide.

Something had been in your room. Someone had been in your room.

Was the dead bird a threat? A gift? You couldn’t be certain, but you glove your hands and bury it in the backyard, eyes carefully scanning the tree line every so often as a chill runs down each knob of your spine. You’ve heard mentions of the fair folk your entire life, in books and film, but those stories all felt so nonsensical and sweet compared to the here and now. Were they not supposed to simply be little people donning butterfly’s wings? Fluttering about thick oak trees and being birthed from flower bulbs? Kate’s ‘neighbors’ looked and felt the part of demons by comparison.

If not for Ghost’s existence, you would think this all was her doing, that perhaps she was more eccentric than you had realized. You’re scared, you’re alone here in the country, and it seemed as though these strange occurrences would just be your new day-to-day. As normal as a walk to the subway, as ordering your coffee from a local cafe. You pat the small grave with the spade once as you rise to your feet to head inside to wash your sheets.

— — —

You don’t remember falling asleep, memory only supplying you placing your sheets in the washer with a slight grimace on your face. But you wake, you wake to the dim light of the moon basking your room in a hazy, milky glow. You can feel the presence of a blanket covering your lower half, but you’ve hardly time to question how it got there at all.

A long, muscular arm curls around your middle, inviting in a cold, billowing wave of fear to wash over your bones. Ghost?, you wonder in silence, but the thought immediately dissipates as you feel the figure shift closer behind you, tucking you further against himself. Ghost was big, but this person was somehow larger. Impossibly so. You part your lips to scream, but not a sound comes out. You feel as though your voice itself has been snatched away from your throat. “Shh,” a voice hisses into your ear, the feeling of fabric moving over your face as the man behind you tilts his head to look you over.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I won’t hurt you,” the voice continues, somehow both gravely and light as he speaks. It’s unfamiliar, entirely unfamiliar. He sounds unhinged in a way your fretful mind can’t even begin to voice, and surely, he must be. Climbing into bed with a stranger, pulling someone you’ve never met so closely to you… why would anyone in their right mind do that?!

You manage to find your voice when the man lowers his head to the crown of yours, deeply inhaling as his grip around you tightens. “What the hell are you doing?” You try to sound assertive, truly, but it comes out as a small squeak, anxiously wavering with each syllable uttered.

“You smell like honeysuckle.”

Was Kate back yet? If you screamed would she come sprinting through to door to rid this beast of a man from your bed? Your thoughts are like a roaring storm in your head just before you feel the gentle brush of lips, hidden beneath some veil, against your cheek and the figure pulls away to settle against your pillow with a soft huff of breath.

“Your heart is racing like a little hase. Calm down.”

“Stop. Please.” Your voice cracks again. Through the dim light of the moon seeping through your window you make out the sight of a clawed hand resting over your tummy. Thick, black keratin gently splayed over the fabric of your shirt, grip firm but not tight enough to cause injury. Your breath catches, the stranger let’s out an airy laugh, tries to pull you closer once again. You’re so entwined that it’s for naught, you’re only grateful he was gentle. The thought of those claws splitting you open surfaces just before he shushes you again.

“I won’t hurt you,” he repeats as if sensing your unease. You can almost detect the dejection in his voice, as though he knows, knows that you’re catching glimpses of a monster, a sight he couldn’t change. It’s gone so quickly you think you’ve imagined it. His thumb moves languidly to trace a circle along your sternum, trying to soothe.

“What do you want?” Your voice was a low hiss, eyes darting from his hand to the wall in front of you. The courage to twist in his grip and face him wasn’t there, your imagination running wild with possibilities of the rest of him like stills from a horror film.

“To hold you.” Simple sentences do nothing to make his voice sound calm, the man is practically trembling as his hand moves to your hip to trace a pattern there, clawed fingertips dancing over a hint of exposed flesh. His other arm shifts to fit beneath your neck, you can see the taut muscle, the veins there as he moves it to curl over your chest, his breathing uneven and deep. The sound was familiar, the same sound you had heard when you felt the dip in your mattress a few nights prior. “Just to hold you.”

And this, despite how horrific and strange, is oddly comforting. Your mind has been plagued with anxieties caused by the unseen for days on end, and you can’t even recall the last time you’ve been held like this, if ever. So tender, so warm. The man behind you quietly hums the tune of a song that isn’t familiar, but feels as though it were just behind you. His fingers continue to delicately trace small shapes against you, warm paths of connecting points, some angular, some smooth. Despite yourself, you find you’re lulled into a deep sleep filled with dreams of fall forests, of unknowns with sharp teeth and fierce eyes. A song, dancing naked in groves, a man with eyes like an ice covered stream.

When you wake, you find your bed empty apart from your own person, and a fully bloomed lily in your windowsill.

#König x reader #konig x reader #König x you #konig x you #konig fanfiction #konig #König #call of duty #if i look at this any longer i will never post it raaah #erlkönig!König is everything to me

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ari-zonia · 5 months ago

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My Time at Sanrock, and how it does families

Something just brewing in my head after putting so many hours into it and overviewing dialogue for characters I'm unlikely to pursue or for certain NPCs in general.

This isn't something unique to this game alone, obviously, but I do appreciate both the large and small details of the various situations the Sandrockers have for their family dynamics. That, and how it's all considered normal. People just have different home lives sometimes.

I'll put the breakdown and stuff under a readmore to avoid being long/hide spoilers for Romance Quests and such. Some of this is a little speculation if there's not a lot to go off of, but it's 98% Canon information, just complied here. I also don't cover everyone, since this is late night rambles. So there might also be some missing information here or there too.

So, obviously, there's a few examples of the "nuclear family" in Sandrock, namely Elsie's family (but that's ignoring how many siblings and cousins Cooper apparently grew up with), Rocky and Krystal, Rian and Dan-bi, and most citizens mention having both mothers and fathers in some capacity. Even your PC has both parents around. Standard fare, nothing terribly unusual, but then this is where it starts getting interesting below the surface.

Qi and Mi-an: Both of them mention their parents, as well as a grandfather. Probably come from multi-generational homes. Mi-an mentions that her entire family are Builders, while conversely the Qi family have had different professions. Héng's grandfather worked in aviation research, while his father was a fisherman.

Heidi's family: Multi-generational home, notably with a widowed father, and widowed grandmother. Also, Vivi being honorary grandma to everyone in town, especially Andy and Jasmine.

Owen: Comes from what appears to be a nuclear family, but he was five years old before his parents got married. He's confirmed to be 30 at the start of the game (official merch revealed his age), but one of his sidequests mentions his parents are only celebrating their 25th anniversary. Hopefully the upcoming update with the Owen-based content sheds more light on him, we're kind of in the dark, really.

Catori: Divorcee with a teenage child. Her son is living with his grandmother until you help out Catori with building up her businesses. And if you pursue her, you have a step-son. Genuinely does care for her son and desperately tries her best for him, though sometimes her business does get in the way.

Logan's Gang: Logan, single dad that's the son of a divorced father, his adopted brother (basically, we dont know much about Haru), and an adopted son. Family of choice, the characters. (Honestly, while both PCs pursuing Logan works, the male somehow makes it work better in my mind, given his line about having a normal family. "We don't. But we get to have a family.") Andy himself had a family before, but ended up lost and alone before Logan and Haru found him.

Fang: "Raised" by two mothers and his father. An abused child, who was raised by his birth mother before her passing, then was forced to return to said abuse with his step-mother and step-brother. Eventually ran away and more or less raised himself.

Venti: Homeless orphan who managed to raise herself against the odds.

Trudy: Widowed mother.

Mort and Zeke: Old widow and his adopted son.

And obviously this is ignoring if you specifically play a character who's the same gender as one of your romance options, thus breaking the mold further.

#my time at sandrock #ari rambles

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quaranmine · 5 months ago

Note

Hi! Hope you’re doing well. Just wanted to pop in after reading The Incandescence of a Dying Light to tell you it has permanently altered my brain chemistry (/pos) and has definitely worked it’s way up there with some of my favourite fics on ao3.

The attention to detail not only with the characters and how they’re written, how different traumas and experiences shape their actions but also in the setting, history and systems of the job. I definitely learned a few things, not only from the fic but also the mini essays in the authors notes. As someone from Australia, I know bushfires, and while I know the forests are, of course, different, it was nice to see not only the dangers and very real nature of fires being described and how easily they can start, it was also nice to see the understanding of the good fires can do for nature as well. They’re essential to the life cycle of bush land and forests, and I love the way you described it as being both life and death, because it is! It creates room for new and stronger life to grow and I think people forgot that sometimes.

Gosh this fic hit me right in the feels-!! And it had me on the edge of my seat the whole time as well. I knew from the beginning that the ending was gonna be sad but the way Grian was written had me infected with that hope as well the he and Mumbo would make it out together and live happily ever after. I was also thinking the whole time that if Grian and Scar don’t meet each other and comfort each other I would be very upset so the final chapter made me very happy. Friends for life, those two, no matter the distance and no one can convince me otherwise. (Also the way Scar didn’t recognise him at first, because how could he, made me giggle)

Yet another thing that was beautifully written was Mumbo and Grian’s friendship. Those types of platonic relationships are so important to me and reading just how much Grian loved and cared about him, and how much he still loves him both warmed my heart and broken it at the same time. I’ll admit I shed a few tears when Grian finally managed to find him. The way he recognised Mumbo immediately yet refused to say it was him because Mumbo was more than the corpse in front of him broke me. Just rip my whole heart out why don’t you?? Ow??? Gosh they’re so precious to me.

Thank you for writing such a beautiful story. Even without the author’s notes you can tell just how much love, thought, research and passion went into this project. I’m not usually one for longer fics but I’ll definitely be sitting down and rereading this at some point. Possibly multiple some points

AAAAA thank you! I've been meaning to respond to this ask for a few days now, it really made my week :)

The attention to detail not only with the characters and how they’re written, how different traumas and experiences shape their actions but also in the setting, history and systems of the job. Thank you!!! This is one thing that made this story fun to write. I loved trying to meticulously build on every detail and make the story alive in its historical context too. For me one the ways that the original Firewatch game failed was that it didn't get nitty-gritty enough with the details of the job (I mean, we don't even get to use the fire finder once!) I also appreciate you pointing out their different traumas shaping their actions. With Grian every bit of the story is his trauma influencing the plot, or him getting new trauma. But with Scar, it's his past that is influencing his present and how he interacts with Grian.

it was nice to see not only the dangers and very real nature of fires being described and how easily they can start, it was also nice to see the understanding of the good fires can do for nature as well. Yes! thank you! I like it when people from wildfire-prone areas weigh in. Fire is a tricky subject because it is so, so devastating to the communities who experience it or lose their homes....but the answer cannot be to just suppress them altogether. Because of the damage we've done to ecosystems, the climate, and our intrusion on wild lands (WUI), we need careful and watchful management. We can no longer allow wildfires to burn whenever and wherever they want like they did centuries ago. But we also need to study and respect that fire has its place in the ecosystem. A lot of environmental science is finding ways for humans to coexist next to nature with minimal damage to each.

I was also thinking the whole time that if Grian and Scar don’t meet each other and comfort each other I would be very upset I think you a lot of other people, LOL. I toyed with this way back at the beginning since one thing I do like about the original Firewatch game is that Henry and Delilah never meet. But that is a different story to this one, and it makes the most sense in this one for Grian and Scar to meet. I was dead set on that being the final chapter pretty much immediately after considering that.

Also the way Scar didn’t recognise him at first, because how could he, made me giggle this is actually one of my favorite bits in the chapter! friends who have never seen each other!

Yet another thing that was beautifully written was Mumbo and Grian’s friendship. ❤️ it's the soul of the fic

Thank you so much for your review, I'm really glad you liked it. I love it when people compliment the love, thought, research and passion I had for this project because to me that's....well, it's nice when people tell me the technical aspects of the writing is good, but it's wonderful when people just simply love something as much as me. So much effort went into this story and it's because it was something I really cared about. I love that other people can recognize that and I can make them care too. It's very special.

#quara asks #hc_firewatch_au

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fvji-kvjakv · 2 years ago

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DIRECTOR’S CUT AND COMMENTARY

OPENING NOTES:

hello hello!!! i’ve always wanted to do a commentary and for my first to be for this fic, i couldn’t even begin to say how pleased i am. over the last few months, this fic has been my baby: i don’t write plot, i don’t like fluff, but this prompt just called out to me and i knew i could finally write the comedy of my dreams.

the reason i called it supercut is explained later in the fic, so i hope you manage to catch that line! as far as characterisation goes, i think it’s a kind of dynamic you can expect from two people who have only been around each other all their lives. there’s nothing else there until you see them apart. they just gravitate towards each other. the reason i mainly shed light on san’s character through flashbacks was because i needed there to be the perfect level of “you are my past, present and future” for me. this was just what worked.

what you have received is exactly what my humour is, unfortunately, so i only pray you find this fic funny as well. written with no purpose but to make readers laugh, i hope supercut was enjoyable to read, and i can’t wait to see if anyone managed to pick out all the real scenarios from this fic considering there are so MANY, some of which i mention in this commentary.

but i have to say before i start that i do not remember writing any of this for most part, so i’ll only be talking about little easter eggs i’ve thrown in here that i only noticed during this reread. with that out of the way, let’s begin!

COMMENTARY:

And then he’s out like a light. As San slumbers next to him, Wooyoung can’t help but wonder if the human heart was meant to beat this loudly.

ok. so. what a way to start. i don’t actually have much to say about the scene generally, apart from that i only wrote this to set the tone and shed some light on what wooyoung and san’s relationship used to be and what it eventually evolves into.

Wooyoung had snorted, and the visual of Mingi walking into a glass wall right then had immediately changed the subject, and that was the end of that.

inspired by the time i ran full speed into a wall of glass and cried about it bc i got made fun of by my cousins

Wooyoung calls it objective admiration and Yeosang calls it bullshit. Jongho usually likes to stay out of their business.

very much inspired by my group of friends

“House,” Wooyoung says. “He says to bring bitches.”

“I’m already bringing you, though,” San immediately answers, and then ducks when Wooyoung throws a pillow at him. “Who’s going?”

this is. so funny to me personally. this fic became a very weird amalgamation of american and english humour and you can really tell when you start to read: there are some specific english vocabularies used later to mark the difference, but the reason i mixed things up (as far as i remember), is because as an international student abroad, your humour tends to match up in a lot of funky ways. i think it is inevitable to kind of. end up with layers. to You as a person esp with forced proximity and a change in environment but i love it because it describes my friends and i very accurately! (can u tell i wrote supercut with my loved ones in mind)

“Proudly,” San sneers, and then he chugs half the carton in one go. “Now scram. I can feel you staring. I know I’m the sexy husband but I’m not just a hot piece of ass, you know.”

this is directly taken from conversations i’ve had with friends where we roleplay as a really messy friend group. married to. each other

Wooyoung is deep into Yeosang’s bottle of Captain Morgan’s

all we did first year was drink rum <3

Yeosang has been trying to roll a joint for the better half of the last hour while his boyfriend watches helplessly and the others are playing the world’s most intense round of Monopoly Deal when the doorbell rings.

the amt of times i have been yeosang here. and also the amt of times i’ve had game nights with friends and family and it always ends with violence

“So,” Yeosang starts, “Monthly BDSM test?”

Wooyoung turns his phone back on.

idk what to tell u. my friends and i did this monthly just to mess with each other

“Your mum,” Yeosang says.

Jongho just whistles and reaches for a high five. “Nice.”

San glares. “What are you, twelve?”

“Yeah,” Yeosang nods casually, blowing a blueberry-flavoured stream of vapour at San’s face. “Twelve inches in your mum.”

very real conversation i heard my cousin say to another player when we were 12 years old and fucking with them online over a game of cod (minus the vape)

It’s so loose, kief falling from the tip, that even San just stares at him. “Yes, I know it sucks. Jongho—”

#throwback to the time my horrid rolling skills let me down at what felt like rock bottom

Wooyoung tiredly wipes a bead of sweat from his temple before bringing his hand to wipe away the juice all over his mouth. He’s made a mess, he thinks, eyeing the green stickiness all over his palm. His brother’s going to tease him all over again.

this is nothing more than what used to be routine for me: my uncle had a car and he would usually take all of us to the park and then to the harbour where we’d get slushies and popsicles while we watched the sunset…!

San babbling next to him about the newest Digimon game his sister has gifted

this was actually a very common occurrence in my household growing up, though i do have to confess it was mostly about pokémon! we were little nerds on picnics with our gameboys out <3

“I bet you liked it.”

The silence is deafening.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jongho asks gently. “I genuinely want to know.”

i was jongho in this scene

“Don’t you make playlists all the time?”

part of the reason why this prompt called out to me is that the main arc is making playlists — something i do constantly all the time because it’s a big love language of mine. it just felt a little funny, picking apart my whole life, only to end up with this fic. but i think that’s why this one will always mean so much!

Glimmering smiles over the edges of wine. Hushed commentaries about the relevance of Gossip Girl in today’s climate and frozen pizza.

Things inevitably go back to normal as things always do.

there’s nothing for me to comment on i just really like this bit

They’ve known each other for years—months weeks days hours minutes seconds—and Wooyoung doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that San has conveniently wiped their history away, leaving nothing but a blank slate.

the reason i highlighted this was because i needed it to be emphasised just How long they have known each other like how many seconds in those years have they spent together and with each other. a little crazy

San is humming along to the opening notes of Mr. Brightside

have u lived in england if u haven’t sung this on every night out actually

“I’ve always wanted to kiss someone to this song,” he blurts.

my best friend and i had a very serious discussion about him wanting to do this and i’m glad to update everyone with news that he has succeeded thumbs up emoji

“This is going to sound awful,” Jongho finally says, laughing under his breath as he leans back in his seat, a distant look on his face. “But probably when I realised I’d let him roll shitty joints for me forever.”

this is 100% real one of my friends said this to my face

“Put that camera away!” Wooyoung yells, “What are you waiting for?”

this seems much. bigger than it actually is. but this is taken from the time i went on a trip around uk and did a lot of hiking with my friends. we were setting off fireworks to celebrate the new year, and one of my friends who’s a photographer wouldn’t come set them off because he was too busy taking pictures of us!

“On God, man.”

“Just stop talking.”

“Anyway, when is our train tonight?”

“Oh, it’s—”

this entire phone call. i was asleep, hungover and also sick to boot, and my cousin who’s about 8 hours ahead had called me without realising i was majorly unwell. it went exactly like this, only for him to ask me where his girlfriend was. of course, i hung up on him without further response.

Tonight, every single one of them was in Leeds for the weekend—they got an Airbnb, they stole their host’s rolling paper while arguing that there shouldn’t have been rolling paper in the first place, and then they cracked the bottles out once they started getting ready, long-winded compilations of Max Verstappen and Charles LeClerc playing in the background, courtesy of Jung Yunho’s current Formula 1 phase.

those who have my twitter will know what this is about. but basically. me and moot were in london bc she was visiting me and we literally ran out of rolling paper on the second day in the middle of her getting me into f1. we checked all over the place and what do u know. the paper is right there. it should not have been there but thank u olga. if u are seeing this that is why u have a new set of rolling papers in ur drawer i felt really bad and wanted to get a new one for u

Wooyoung just lets out a breathless laugh before he promptly turns around, letting San settle behind him. Dizzee Rascal blares from the speakers, the familiar beat thundering through his veins.

the song is dance wiv me btw this is one of the three songs my friends and i Must play during pres before we go out

“Go piss, girl,” comes Yeosang’s voice.

no comment i just think this is so funny

Wooyoung knows one thing: he can’t make this shit up anymore.

also no comment but <3 this is tian’s line <3 thank u for the feedback and support i luv u so much

jongho: fuck mondays…… i mean its just another day to me but for the school students out there, fuck mondays……

ANOTHER REAL CONVO nier. never change. i love you

When Wooyoung is sixteen, pants around his ankles while he takes the biggest shit of his life to Eminem’s Ass Like That, his girlfriend dumps him.

umm. also real. i was literally mid shit when the guy i was seeing ended things over text and all i said was “ok cool be well king 🙏”

San is already watching him, hand raised to bring his beer to his mouth. There’s a soft smile playing on his lips, gaze terribly warm and tender. Slow and unbothered. Somehow, they always find each other. The music disappears until it’s just the two of them. You’re my best friend. I’m living. Young-ah. San is looking at him like he knows something Wooyoung doesn’t again. Does that taste good? You’re my forever. What are you waiting for? San takes a step, then two, and then he’s walking over. Young-ah, Young-ah, Young-ah. You’re my forever, San’s voice echoes.

this entire paragraph. it means so much to me. i think my style has changed so much since the first fic i had ever written for ateez, and i would like to think that all the experiences i’ve had here, with everyone around me, i have grown. as a writer and as a person. to be honest, i think i spoiled myself with this fic and i can never go back to writing dirty things like i used to. i think this is the kind of writing i am meant to produce.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“Oh,” Wooyoung breathes. He nods once, twice. “Okay. I love you too.”

okay. so. this. i couldn’t make them get together in a flashy, manic way. it needed to feel natural, and what i felt was that these two knew it was the right time, that it is finally time to take the next step. because it makes sense and because it is as natural as breathing. and so it is. like that.

Their walk home isn’t rushed as Wooyoung expects. They take the ten minutes and walk around aimlessly in circles until it’s been at least an hour of San telling Wooyoung what his day has been like until they reach their place.

THIS PART!!!!! again, back to it being natural. it is just another day for them, all things considered, so it just makes sense to keep going about life as they always do. they’ll figure it out together.

The bell dings once they’ve reached their floor, and instead of stepping out of the elevator, San keeps on kissing Wooyoung like he knows he will be able to do it again.

you don’t know. how obsessed i am with this line. that san finally knows he can kiss wooyoung. that he can keep doing it forever. or as long as wooyoung wants because he’s been waiting for so long. waiting for wooyoung to catch up.

He shakes when San presses a finger inside him and he laughs when San says I love you against his belly.

they are just so!!!! elated!!!!! and giddy!!!!!!!!!!!

They talk about anything and everything and Wooyoung cries himself laughing when San tells him that after the seduction attempt, San had jacked himself off and cried because he had felt so guilty about defiling the memory of his best friend in his head.

I’M SORRY LIKE. THE VISUAL WAS TOO FUNNY NOT TO WRITE

Watches San moan Wooyoung’s name until Wooyoung’s hips are stuttering on every gasp. Watches as San falls in love with him a million times in a matter of seconds.

just another line that i Especially love <3

as for the sex scene, i actually didn’t want to write it at first. i originally only had two little paragraphs dedicated to the scene because i had wanted to step away from smut and see things without a nsfw lens. but then they started acting up. i had to write Something even if it was miniscule and not at all my style <3

“I was born by C-section so I’m a gold star gay,” Yeosang says smoothly, not even missing a beat. “No vaginas on my record.”

THIS IS REAL I PROMISE we now refer to the guy who said this to my best friend as “c-section gay”

“You absolute bellend,” Wooyoung says, shooting Yeosang a venomous glare.

“You’re already learning!”

only because my two favourite aggressively english words to use are “cunt” and “bellend”

wooyoung: why do my feet always feel so warm when i wake up

yeosang: we don’t want to hear abt ur feet wooyoung

san: @wooyoung sorry ill stop

taken from the time nier admitted to liking my feet

“Wait, did you buy another Polo pack again? I can’t fucking taste anything, mate.”

my polo addiction… 🕊️💔

Just as he predicts, Yeosang and Jongho get back together. Taylor Swift and Joe Alwyn on the other hand, he figures, is not for him to decide.

this entire scene is dedicated to my best friend who cried about them breaking up. update: she is keeping up to date with the matty healy dating rumours, and i have to say, i don’t think she is pleased.

San surprises him with a tub of ice cream and a Spotify playlist, sitting on a bench and talking for what seems like hours until they finally get up and start making their way back.

OK. THIS BIT. i intentionally made it sound like a throwaway line but it is not. it’s overshadowed by the Very dirty sex implied right after, but this is the first time san ever makes a playlist. and he intentionally made it for wooyoung who is his sole audience. it just felt fitting to end with a playlist since it begins with a playlist. full circle, lads.

CLOSING NOTES:

PHEW. what a ride. i didn’t realise i had so much to say in so little, but i’m thankful. i hope everyone who reads this enjoys it as much as i enjoyed writing it. i may not remember much, but the few memories i have are all good.

this fic made me want to Write again after years of staying away from plot. i think i’m one step closer to figuring myself out. additionally, thank you to all of my friends who took the time out of their day to encourage me to write this, i cannot thank you enough. i can’t wait to write another fic for you soon.

see you when the next one comes out, my loves! <3

#faith's fic commentaries #ao3 suijin #woosan #ateez

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linelpisffxiv · 2 months ago

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Lin sought glory in ARR. It was what she thought she wanted. It's what A'lin wanted, but at the time, she didn't know she wasn't A'lin. The more she sought glory, the more she realized it came at a price she couldn't give. Herself. It felt great to be a hero, but at the same time, the more heroic she became, the more people needed her to be the one because they wanted to make sure the job was done with as few sacrifices as necessary.

This gave birth to her great fear at the Bloody Banquet, the Weapon of Light. (A term used twice in the DRK quest, but the DRK quests are crucial to Lin and metatextually shaped her in my hands into a very different character than I had going in, Specifically the 80 capstone quest and a silly little line of hers I had her say and my reply to it. That reply is also wrong, but also more right than what Lin said)

Lin is petrified of losing herself, so when she got to Ishgard, she tried to shed the mantle. She was just Madam Greystone or Madame Graeme depending on the person. She tried to mix with the nobility, she tried to be just a soldier helping them, but then Sormr and Ysayle spoke to each other and the worst happened so she had to become the Warrior again, recollect her ties to the deeper parts of the blessing. She hated it.

But these fears of the Weapon existed, and so she kept seeking peace of mind when she could. With and without the Sword and A'lin's crystallize memory within her (Still not knowing that's who Fray is)

The Weapon fears kept rising and falling (Rising at the end of 4.0 and Falling with the DRK quest. Rising in 4.4 but falling through ShB. Rising with the Ilsabard Contingent (and specifically "In from the Cold." FUCK "In from the Cold" because of what it did) And falling, once and for all, with "Is that not so, Adventurer?" (To which her answer is a resounding "LOL, no.")

Through that time, she found out who Fray/A'lin is, and that she isn't A'lin. She's a reincarnation of sorts. And so she sought answers of what made her different. Found she was far more capable with magic compared to A'lin ever was, that she cherishes different memories than A'lin and it isn't just that she had a change of heart. But still it is peace of mind she seeks, and thankfully those around her mostly facilitated that. At least, those closest to her. G'raha, Alphinaud, Alisaie, Y'shtola, Thancred, Urianger. They saw her almost torn apart, they want to see her put together. They manage to convince the Alliance such, if only because a better weapon is one that's cared for, and that if they treat her purely as one 100% of the time, then she'll revolt. (Not something they're proud of saying, but at least they knew the self-interest would get them to understand.)

She loves to travel, to seek inspiration, to learn new skills, whether martial or crafty. To read books and write songs (She's still a bard at heart, even if she became a Red Mage and later a Viper as her primary form of combat. Songs and Stories are her true self.)

I don't know how to describe all that as something she seeks in a pithy way, but she does. Novelty, perhaps? She isn't Terspichore. She ins't A'lin, but she has a lust for travel, and as of the end of Dawntrail, she will travel under her own power and desires, and while occasionally she might come across a fight or two, she'll always have companions with her (Friendship, her husband, and her future children) and is never the pin holding the world from destruction again.

(She doesn't care about what the deal with the Key is. It has a different answer in my canon. Maybe Teri told her through her dreams, maybe it's just "Huh, weird" But other than just keeping her hands on it because she's the best guard of something like that, she doesn't care the hows or whys of it.)

wolqotd

What does your WoL seek in life? Do those goals change throughout the msq?

#WoLQuestion #Just Lin this time #Lin Elpis #Dawntrail Spoilers at the end #DRK spoilers implied

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blackwidow-bby · 3 years ago

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Positions - Marvel Ladies x Fem!Sub!Reader

Summary: You're a sex worker and you've been hired by a new client for a "group activity".

genre: smut(18+)

pairings: Maria Hill x fem!reader, Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader, Carol Danvers x fem!reader, Yelena Belova x fem!reader

warnings: D/S dynamics, face slapping, spanking, strap on use, degradation, orgy, big ole lesbian train, oral, throat f*cking, name calling, degradation, thigh riding, fingering

AN: I am...well not a pro at writing dirty things especially not with multiple people but I hope you all enjoy regardless!

I don't own any marvel characters!!

Your assistant had just called you into her room. Your week had been slow but fruitful. Normally, it would be a regular client for the month, nothing to sweat over. Your thoughts started to run over who it could be. Maybe Mr. Dean, he usually calls on a Friday but you could've sworn you saw him two weeks ago. That didn't leave a lot of your regulars left to be requesting you as you knew their schedules like the back of your hand.

As if she could read your mind upon entering her space, she spoke, "Y/N, you have a call for a new client. Something about a friend requesting your services? The only thing is..." She hesitated almost thinking if she should tell you the rest of the details before she proceeded. "Well, it's for a group. You don't have to take up the offer if you're uncomfortable with that. I can call her back and let her know you declined."

To tell the truth, the thought of it being a group of strangers did make you uncomfortable, but your assistant wouldn't put you into a situation without going through the proper protocols first. She knew a head count of how many, roughly where they all worked, and several phone numbers. It always helped to be extra safe in these situations where you could be overpowered.

"Who inquired?" you asked interestedly. "She goes by N.R., gave me a headcount of all of her friends that would be attending. There's not going to be any men there, but I guess 'more power in numbers' is still 'more power in numbers'." In all honesty, women gave you way less shit about certain things than men did. Hopefully they'd be way more understanding if you didn't want to do specific activities.

"Call her back and tell her I'll take the offer. Do you know how much she's paying?" Your assistant slid a little sticky note over to you as she dialed the number of one 'N.R.'. You swear you almost choked when you saw how much she offered for you. That was a lot of zeros compared to usual. You walked away to get a water from the mini-fridge while you vaguely listened in to your assistant's phone conversation.

Good.

Perfect.

Okay, I'll tell her to meet you there at 6:30.

Extra clothes, yes ma'am. Have a nice day.

"Hey Y/N, I've written down the address, floor, and room number. It's uh...a really high end hotel in New York City. She also said to bring an extra change of--" you interrupted her, "Extra clothes? I overheard." you started wondering what for? Dinner? Go out? "Uhm, yes, she said extra comfy clothes." Comfy? Was she expecting you to spend the night? You looked down at your watch to see how much time you had to get ready. 2 hours. It wasn't enough but you could make it work. "Alright then, I should go freshen up."

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An hour and a half later had found you briskly walking toward the extremely tall and very expensive looking hotel in the Upper East Side. You lived in Queens and while the distance wasn't very far, paired with the traffic, the feeling of unsettlement about being late to such a client was enough to make you almost hurl.

You made your way inside the lobby, barely looking at your surroundings. You wanted to get up to the room as quickly as possible without being noticed. "Excuse me," Could you ever be so lucky? "Are you here for Ms. Romanoff?" Who? That must be your clients last name. "She said she was expecting a guest soon." The lady was being extra kind to you, she had an inviting smile. You almost wanted to never lie to her. "Yes, I'm here to see Ms. Romanoff." you replied quietly. It felt like your voice would echo too hard around the warmly lit lobby. You thought it would break you to hear your own voice shrill around such a pristine room.

"Very well, I'll show you to her room." Your nerves began to spike more the higher up you went. It was as if every floor number on the elevator was the level of anxiety you started to feel. Your palms were sweating and you could've sworn your back was too. The lady just kept her eyes forward with a meek little smile. It took every fiber of your body to not explode your feelings all over that elevator.

Ding

The elevator stopped, of course she was in a penthouse suite. You rolled your eyes as how predictable this situation was playing out. The kind lady, who's name you definitely forgot to get, remained in the elevator as you walked out. "There's a number for room service if you ladies need anything." She sung out. "Thank you."

The walk to her door seemed to never end. Your feet were dragging like gravity was doing everything in its power to keep them on the ground. The air was getting hotter as time slowed in the short distance it took to reach her door. You rang the little buzzer and a melodic voice called beyond the frame.

"Coming!"

You could hear the light patter of a single set of feet. The knob then turned and revealed a stunning short redhead with bright eyes. You were certainly gawking at the sight of her but there was nothing you could do to pull your own attention away. She had a smirk on her face when she saw you staring but not saying anything. "You must be Y/N, it's very nice to meet you. Come in and lets get you introduced to everyone."

She reached out her hand to you and you took it gently. her palms were much colder than yours and her fingers were long and slender. her hair was shoulder length and fire-y. The room was massive, and clean. She had all of the blinds closed to keep any natural light and eyes from entering the den. Scanning the room some more you noticed a couple items around the room. Non-traditional furniture. It was going to be one of those events. There were also four other heads aside from the host's. She turned around once reaching the main room and faced you. "My name is Natasha, over there is Wanda," another read-head standing behind everyone else with a glass of wine in her hands, she lightly nodded, "...that is Carol in the middle," a blonde woman with a bright and bubbly smile. She seemed taller than the rest but she was also sitting down on a piece of equipment that will no doubt be used in a different way by you. Natasha gestured to a brunette, "...this is Maria," another tall and slender woman, didn't offer a smile but a simple wave to your direction. You were scared of her the most. "...and this is Yelena." A second blonde who's face was much more stoic than Maria's. You take it back, she scared you the most.

Natasha's hand unhooked from yours and made its way up your back to settle on the back of your neck. The pads of her fingers added slight pressure to the muscles there as if she could feel all of your tension in waves. You felt her lean in closer, her hot breath fanning your ear. "There's a bathroom in the hall to the right. I got a cute little outfit waiting for you." You could feel her soft lips smiling against the curve of your ear. the feeling made you shiver. You managed to follow her eyes and swiftly walk to the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

You looked around and found the outfit in question. It was sleek all black leather body suit with a halter neck. You lifted it up in your hands and rubbed the material under your fingers. Next to it sat a bottle of lubricant no doubt to get the body suit on. You got to work shedding the current clothes you had on and began to slide on the little leather number. It wasn't too tight but certainly snug against your frame. The only thing out of the ordinary besides the material was, you noticed, a tiny little zipper in between your legs. If unzipped would reveal your very private essence. The thought made you blush a little to yourself. After cleaning up, you made your way back to the room where the women had sat prior.

Since you calmed down a little, you took the opportunity to fully take in your surroundings. The hall was adorned in art more than likely as expensive as this room. Everything seemed darker than when you arrived. To your surprise when you entered the living room area, the room lighting was red as opposed to the normal LED lighting.

Natasha held her hand out to you again for you to take. You obliged her and she pulled you close into her side. Natasha's deft fingers traveled up and down your ribs before finding purchase on your backside. "You look like the most delicious treat. None of us can wait to eat you. Would you like a drink before we start?"

The other women started moving closer almost circling you like sharks. "Yes please." Natasha poured you a glass as she went on, "We should go over some rules before we start. If at any point you feel overwhelmed, anxious, or hurt, the safe word is 'Heart'. We all stop what we're doing and will help you. If at any point you are gagged, two taps to the closest person will get all of us to cease as well. Because of those rules you will not be bound and gagged simultaneously...at least not this session." She ends her rules with a wink toward you. All of these women truly were stunning and it piqued your interest to know what they could possibly be capable of.

Wanda came closest to you first, she pulled the wine glass away from your lips and replaced it with her own lips. Holding your hand with the glass close to her chest and cupping your cheek with the other. Her lips were sinfully soft as was her kiss. She felt delicate and gentle against you, she almost seemed to not match any of this situation. Natasha took your wine glass away while you continued to make out with Wanda, who let her hands roam lower down your body. Your own hands moved behind her neck. Another set of arms wrapped around you from behind. "You're such a pretty kitten." They nibbled on your ear making you separate from Wanda to see who it was. Carol smiled down at you and found the very lips that left Wanda. You moaned into her mouth at feeling how she controlled and dominated the kiss, very different from Wanda's passion. Wanda moved down to kissing your neck and shoulder.

You could hear other giggles in the back. Natasha kept her eyes trained on you as Yelena and Maria began to touch each other in the mean time waiting for you. After a few minutes of watching her friends have all of the fun, Natasha made her way over to you, Carol, and Wanda. She pulled the other red-head back by her locks and pressed her lips to hers in a searing kiss. You heard Wanda moan out into the other woman's mouth next to you causing you to release your own into Carol. This made the blonde swiftly lift you up and wrap your legs around her waist. She brought you over to a nearby bench and kissed you harder. All of the sounds you were making began to rile her up.

"I'm not sure which one of us is more excited to have you here, pretty girl. All I know is I can't wait to ruin that pretty pussy of yours." You moaned at her words and yanked her back down into another kiss. Her words went straight to your core igniting a fire that had been waiting to burn. You made a mental note to find whoever recommended you to these ladies and thank them heavenly. Carol sunk her hips between your legs and began grinding against you seeking the friction she wanted so badly.

Even though the leather was a new material to you, you could still feel the faux member that rested in her pants; Carol was packing. This caused you to move your hands down to her pants to tear the buttons away. The tall blonde grabbed your hands and smirked, "Allow me." She stood to her full height and slowly removed the black jeans she was wearing and revealed her long, girthy strap she had been hiding. Your eyes widened which made Carol giggle. She sunk to her knees where she seductively pulled the zipper on your suit down. She held your eye contact until you saw them shift to behind you. Natasha and Wanda had pulled away long enough to see what Carol was doing and decided to join again. The two red-heads began to undress themselves where Natasha also sported a rather large strap but not Wanda.

In your distraction upon noticing the other women join in, Carol took to opportunity to shove he face into your pussy. You moaned out loud at the contact. Her tongue quickly lapping at your clit and sinking lower to curl inside you. Her ministrations were making you squirm on the bench. She reached up to hold your hips down. "Stay still kitten. Gotta get you ready for our cocks." Eating you out was an art to her. Every move she made, made you more and more wet. Natasha slid her fingers into your open mouth. You sucked on them harshly slipping your own tongue in-between her fingers and coating them in your saliva. Nat removed her fingers and started to rub them between Wanda's folds.

"Eat her out for me, malysh." Natasha requested. You looked up at Wanda as she slowly lowered herself over your wanting mouth. Your head went fuzzy upon seeing all of the quiet red-head's intimacy. Your tongue immediately poked out to welcome her to you. She let out a soft moan and slowly began to grind herself against your mouth. Carol was growing impatient watching you eat out the other woman and feeling you grow more aroused in her mouth. The blonde stood to position the tip at your entrance rubbing the head up and down your slit before she slammed her length in all at once. You yelped against Wanda's soaked cunt sending vibrations straight to her clit.

The whole scene was turning Natasha on more and more so she began stroking her own member, hoping to find some friction. The other two women walked over to join the rest of the group partially feeling left out. Carol continued to slam into you at a rather fast and rough pace. The tip of her strap hitting that blissful spot inside of you with every thrust. All of your moans and whines brought Wanda closer to her orgasm. She came hard in your mouth before she got up and was replaced by Natasha's own cock.

"Suck kotenok. Mommy's getting restless." Carol did not stop chasing not only her own high but yours. You could hear her grunting from below you. All of this attention was turning you on more than you think you've ever been in your life. Even though one hand wrapped around Natasha's strap and the other gripped Carol's wrist on your hips, you were finding it hard to keep blowing Nat. Carol moved her other hand down to your clit. "You better cum for me you little slut."

And you did; hard.

Carol continued her pace and upon watching you come undone, did so herself. Three quick thrusts and she was spent. She released the most guttural moan before her body was replaced by another blonde. Yelena had this look in her eyes like she wanted to make you pay for every wrong you never committed. She removed her clothing and sat right on your bent leg. At this point Natasha was fucking your mouth deeper and deeper. Needing to ground yourself you wrapped your hands around her thighs. Yelena began to rub herself against your thigh. You could feel how wet and warm she was, her hand sliding up and down your slit collecting your cum to rub your clit in tight circles. Your whines didn't stop especially when you were already beginning to feel another orgasm approaching. Yelena slipped her fingers inside you, finding your g-spot with accuracy. With every thrust of her fingers she hit that same spot over and over. tears started to run down your face with the feeling of Natasha in your mouth and Yelena in your core. Natasha gave one last thrust before she pulled out.

Maria shoved three of her fingers to the back of your throat. She giggled when you gagged around them. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at being finger fucked by the two women. "You're not allowed to cum before I do, else Natty here give you a nice punishment while I ride your face." Yelena only made the threat to turn you on more, but part of you was hoping it was true. It was hard, Yelena knew exactly what she was doing with her fingers but you could feel her slick slide down the sides of your thigh. God you hope she was close because you certainly were. Maria replaced her fingers with her lips and she kissed you hard sliding her tongue along yours. The brunette smiled against your lips when she felt your whimpers in her mouth. Yelena just kept slamming her fingers harder inside of you and rubbing herself quicker. Her breaths got faster and more shallow and as she came, a couple seconds later so did you. Your body shook with the most intense tremors, but Yelena couldn't fault you. She did cum before you, and something about it being in close tandem with hers turned her on a lot more than she would admit. You let out a soft whine when the coolness of the air hit your soaked thigh.

Maria left your mouth and moved between your legs. She put one leg over your left and the other under your right and brought your centers together. "You're a pretty little slut. I want to ruin you so bad." Maria started out ruthless. Her grinding was fast and hard as if she had been waiting to cum for weeks. You felt her in her entirety sliding against your own. The feeling started to overwhelm you. Carol took your face in her hand and rubbed her thumb along your bottom lip. "Open up you little slut."

You obeyed her and opened your mouth sticking your tongue out. At this point you were a blubbering mess and all the ladies were loving it. Carol spit into your mouth before shoving her cock in. "I saw you taking Nat like a pro, so I know you can take me." At least her pace wasn't rough but it certainly was quick. Your gags around Carol was making Maria closer to her release. She leaned forward to angle herself differently against you and put her hand around her throat. She could practically feel Carol's cock fucking your face. Sweat was running down your forehead and your hair clung to every part of your body it could touch. You were close to being spent and you never looked more beautiful this way. Maria's hand tightened, her grunts were heavy. "Such a good little fuck toy. I'm so close baby." You didn't think it was possible for Maria to go any harder but she did. She came with a loud cry and slowed her hips down to ride out her orgasm. You felt her wetness mix with yours. Maria's hand stayed for a couple more minutes, entranced by feeling Carol deep in your throat. The tall blonde slapped your face a couple times before she pulled out. You were too busy catching your breath, you didn't see Natasha move by your feet. She lifted you up and turned you over on your stomach with your legs and arms hanging off the bench. Just when you were hoping it was over, you forgot that Natasha never officially had her turn with you. She rested her strap on your lower back as she ran her cool hands in an attempt to soothe your burning skin. Almost mocking you for being the one to give you the final blow. Wanda walked up to you again. She ran her soft fingers in your hair and moved the stuck strands out of your face. Your breathing was heavy and your body was trembling. Wanda's fingers moved down to cup your jaw and she lifted your head. Tapping the side with her pointer finger, you got the silent request to open your mouth for her. In unison, as Wanda brought her cunt to your mouth, Natasha slid her strap inside you completely bottoming out. Nothing but incoherent noises left your mouth at being filled so sinfully. Wanda gripped your jaw harder as she rubbed her intimacy against your mouth for a second time. You lazily kept your tongue out to try your best to accommodate Wanda's wanting. Natasha on the other hand, had been waiting very patiently for her time and now that she got it she was going to make the best of it. She grabbed your hands in her own and pulled them behind your back to make it easier for her to pound deep into your cunt. When you felt her hit somehow deeper your eyes rolled back. Wanda picked up her pace just as Natasha did, both red-heads moving in perfect synch at opposite ends of your being. A jolt of paint hit your right asscheek igniting a new spark and effectively waking you up even if only for a minute. With every thrust administered, Natasha rained a hand alternating each side of your ass. All of this was sending more and more feelings to your core. You will not be lasting long if these two kept going the way they were. You could feel Wanda fumbling, she was about to come for the second time tonight. Natasha continued to get more rough inside of you until you felt the knot inside of you burst. You came hard around Natasha groaning against Wanda's own cunt. The sight caused Wanda herself to not be able to keep her composure and she came with a scream against your tongue. You felt her pussy pulsing with her orgasm on your mouth. As soon as Wanda backed away from your face, Nat yanked your arms back harder to push herself deeper than you thought was possible. You were screaming, a sweaty broken mess, absolutely spent in this five star hotel. Every thrust pushed harder against that spongey spot inside you. You could feel another earth shattering orgasm approach hoping it would be the last. Natasha's thrusting didn't let up, she was desperate to cum. She was moaning over you with every hit. You yelled her name as you came harder than you had before that whole session. Watching you absolutely spent around her

member, Natasha came just as hard with her final thrust. She stayed inside you to ride out the rest of her high before she carefully pulled out. Looking down she could see wetness all over the bench and her legs. Nat smiled to herself at being the one to make you squirt everywhere like a silent victory. Allowing you to lay and collect your bearings, the red-head began to clean up the room.

There wasn't much you could make out in your state, but you could partially hear Natasha thanking all of the women for coming over before hearing the door open and close through the ringing in your ears. Your were shaking, your whole body felt blissfully weak. The red-head padded over softly to your spent and soaked body and picked you up carefully to place you in her arms bridal style. Your mind was in a war with yourself between wanting just a little bit more or to just go to sleep. You couldn't even open your eyes at this point.

Natasha had brought you to the bathroom to help you clean up and as she moved about, she kept you in her arms. She made sure to hold you as she turned on the faucet and sit on the edge of the tub. As the water filled the tub, Nat moved between rubbing your back and gently caressing your cheek. Once the tub was filled up enough for the both of you, she picked you up again and cautiously lowered the both of you into the hot relaxing water. You couldn't do anything but mumble and cursed yourself for the state you were in even though it wasn't your fault. You desperately wanted to think your gracious host for a life changing night but nothing could come out. Natasha shushed you sweetly. Her time wasn't done until you were well taken care of in her company.

You don't know how long you were in the bathroom, hell you don't even know when you fell asleep as Natasha washed the night away from both of your bodies. Clearly still in no position to be able to make it back to your home, the red-head dried both of you off and brought you to the large bedroom. You had come back into partial consciousness long enough to feel the soft sheets and the plush comforter of this heavenly bed you were being gifted to rest on.

Natasha lowered you down and climbed on the other side before pulling you into her. She lifted your head to lay on her chest so she could easily hold you and play with your hair. She stayed awake until she heard your breathing even out again, signaling that you had fallen asleep again since the bath. She placed a soft kiss to your hairline before succumbing to sleep herself with a blissed smile on her face.

She'd definitely be requesting you again.

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AN: Not sure how I feel about this but yeah this is my wack attempt at something extra dirty.

#natasha romanoff x reader #maria hill x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #Carol danvers x reader #yelena belova x reader #reader insert #my fic #multi character x reader #fem!reader insert

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seventeenlovesthree · 2 years ago

Photo

As I could probably take approximately a million screenshots of all the moments that make the stageplay so great, I will never grow tired of mentioning how nicely the writers understood and wrote some of the characters. Granted, I still maintain that Jyou is the absolute MVP of the stageplay for being the voice of reason, the senpai that everybody needs, the emotional and inspirational support he always wanted to be - and his actor simply couldn’t have played him any better. I will definitely dedicate another post to all of his wonderful moments (besides the comic relief) as well. However, I also want to shed light on my favourite character the character who, in my perception, definitely was the 2nd MVP of the stageplay.

As it is often the case within the Adventure universe, nobody would have gotten out of the threatening situation alive without Koushirou. So let’s talk about him for a bit, shall we? (WATCH OUT FOR SPOILERS THOUGH.)

Kudos to his actor, not only for having by far the most lines in the entire play (while also talking extraordinarily fast), but also for portraying him as such a layered, emotional and sympathetic character that I’m willing to say: This was among his best portrayal in all of the Adventure canon. Demeanour, speech patterns, body language, quirks... All of it was pretty much on point. Admittedly, he still has the Tri characterization of being pretty oblivious when it comes to picking up social cues...

... But he is at least (starting to) recognize that something may not have been right.

What makes him so fun to watch throughout the stageplay is not only the fact that he’s literally the second in command when it comes to giving directions and instructions to all the other characters (mostly alongside Taichi, when he’s not there or actually towards him as well).

It’s not even just the fact that he is the one noticing that something is up, what is up and figuring out how to eventually fix it - we’re used to him being the exposition dump by now, even though it is very much apparent that we wouldn’t even have gotten a plot if it hadn’t been for him explaining literally everything to everyone. (No spoilers so far, btw!)

No, the most intriguing aspect about his role is his progression - because he is one of the few characters who goes through some kind of character arc.

His most important “foils” - and thus interaction partners - in this regard are Mimi, Yamato, Jyou and Taichi, with each of them fulfilling different roles towards him.

Mimi is the one who gets him out of his shell in a lighthearted way - she is demanding him to leave his laptop at home during the camp adventure. And while he appears to be rather unhappy about that at first, he obliges - and eventually thanks her (and Jyou) for enabling him to actually sit down and think about what he wants to do in his future himself. Not only that - the two of them bounce off of each other in a very playful manner. In fact, while Koushirou appears to be somehwat obedient towards her at first glance, he doesn’t shy away to tease her back (”Cavemen didn’t use guidebooks...”) to the point of actually getting under her skin. It’s a fun dynamic and it’s nice to see how friendly and casually they act around each other (while he also exchanges grins with Sora in the back when Mimi gets a bit over the top, it’s very endearing).

Yamato is the one that gets him to get assertive and speak up loudly on several occasions - I already once pointed out that one of Koushirou’s main roles in Tri is to keep Yamato from strangling Taichi and that’s exactly what he does here as well. There are two instances in which Yamato acts in overly emotional ways - and each time, Koushirou asserts his point towards him, getting him to calm down again. And even if he appears to be somewhat exasperated by Yamato’s attitude, he still manages to remain calm, hitting the correct tone and finding the right words to reach him - and everyone else too for that matter.

Jyou and Koushirou, at first glance, are interacting mostly for comic relief reasons - this is the only instance where it’s played for laughs that Koushirou is “smarter” than Jyou. And while Koushirou doesn’t seem to realize how much that gets to Jyou, he still HIGHLY values Jyou throughout the play (”I’m glad you could come too”, “Listening to Jyou-san got me thinking...”) and is visibly distressed at the idea that (spoiler) Jyou might not be “real”. One of the best moments in the entire stageplay - in my opinion - involves Koushirou losing faith in his hypothesis and straight-up admitting that he’s pitying himself for not having figured everything out correctly. Just like in Tri itself, he’s close to falling apart because of it - if it wasn’t for Jyou reassuring and valuing him as well. And that’s what he needs to hear to move on - which is such a simple, but powerful scene that it’s easily one of my favourites.

His relationship with Taichi is probably also one of their best portrayals throughout the entire Adventure timeline. Not only are they framed to be physically close (and constantly touching each other), they’re also comfortably fooling around together, which is a very refreshing take and an appropriate follow-up to their portrayal in 02. As mentioned above, Koushirou acts as second in command on several occasions as well - which is also visibly pointed out by the fact that he is the one wearing the goggles by the end of the stageplay, before handing them back to their rightful owner. The most remarkable part though is the way their most crucial interactions are mirroring the scenes in 01, where Taichi opened up to Koushirou about almost having killed Hikari as children. This time, Taichi is losing himself (spoilers) over the idea of being responsible for having everyone trapped in an eternal August 1st, he’s ridden by insecurities, feels weak and inept - and Koushirou is the one who tries to help him coming to terms with his true feelings, asking him to confide in him, outright shouting at him; he thought Taichi could be honest with him, since he was the one who had watched him throughout all these years... While it’s Agumon Taichi opens up to eventually, Koushirou is still shown in the back listening to him - and eventually, Taichi and him end up plan crafting together once again, directly and indirectly telling each other to take care of themselves, as Koushirou displays great confidence towards Taichi, smiling at and reassuring him. It makes the scene in which he gives Taichi the goggles back even more meaningful - because after Jyou had encouraged him, Koushirou had been the one taking charge, telling everyone about what was going on and how to handle the situation, just to end up giving Taichi both his courage and the sign of “leadership” back. It’s a great way to showcase that, while things may not be 100% alright between them, they’re still there for and complementing each other.

What is also remarkable about his behaviour towards Yamato and Taichi is how he gets his points across. Koushirou wouldn’t be Koushirou if he didn’t explain his theories and hypothesis in great lengths - but in this stageplay, he also addresses things from a very emotional perspective. In fact, he repeatedly talks about feelings and tries to resonate with everyone to evaluate their own desires and wishes by doing so.

So, tldr: Koushirou is not only portrayed as exposition dump, but also secondary leader (speaking up, asserting himself, giving instructions, towards Yamato for instance). His primary development revolves around relying a little less on his laptop and more on himself (inspired by Mimi), figuring out what he wants to do and believing in his natural skillsets more (inspired by Jyou). His secondary role revolves around being a foil for Taichi, reassuring and encouraging him to open up more, to be careful and believe in his leadership skills as well. And while being his usual rambly, theorizing self that may not always pick up every social cue out there, he is still trying his best - and displays a great sense of cheekiness, empathy and emotional intelligence with an emphasis on feelings while doing so.

Again, if you haven’t watched the stageplay yet, please do so: It’s amazing.

#digimon adventure tri stage play #digimon adventure tri stageplay #koushirou izumi #koushiro izumi #my two cents #meta #analysis #digimon #digimon adventure tri #in case you haven't noticed: I LOVE THE STAGEPLAY #and i love koushirou so freaking much they treated him so nicely here #cries

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fleetways · 5 months ago

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I feel like it’s so telling that they left out sonic 06 on the shadow timeline during the Anime Expo panel, almost pointedly so imo.

to cover shadow’s original arc is one thing, everything from 2001-2005 makes sense, but after that? IDW comics? Really? Sonic Prime makes sense I suppose, but only because there has been so little Shadow in other media before then. They don’t even have the excuse of “different timeline” because they’ve included Sonic Boom up there of all things. Both Boom and IDW are notorious for being some of least favored depictions of the character, at least from a wider fandom standpoint. The decision to include them feels so random, unless I was of course making a timeline for a character I only plan to portray in the context of this very specific time in his life, and ignore any other developments post that, and only include titles where his presence is incidentally or largely devoid of character development.

In hindsight (especially with knowing how they portray Shadow these days), Sonic 06 truly was special for the way it managed to portray Shadow as a character that was linked to the past without retreading anything from sa2 to shadow (2005). There’s a reason that Shadow was so loved in that game, even during the time when 06 was the internet (and let’s be real, Sega’s) punching bag. To not include it as an important step in Shadow’s history to me really just drives home that all we can expect from SxSh generations is retreading of Shadow’s Ark-Amnesia storyline, which is lowkey a little disappointing.

I do feel like it’s a mix of both “writers not knowing what the hell to do” and nostalgia, and of course marketing purposes (which we know is confirmed due to Takashi Iizuka straight up saying this was the case in the Anime Expo panel).

Speaking of the panel, I am a little salty how the announcement tweet promised “shedding light on the ultimate life form”

And yet all we got was mostly information that was already available and in some cases pretty well-known by now….

It also didn’t help that the “Q&A” was just two questions 😭 one of which was clearly a joke. And while the other one was actually very interesting (for reference: “why did shadow call sonic the ultimate lifeform at the end of the finalhazard fight in sa2?”), it was clear it caught them completely off-guard, and the answer that they gave (that shadow said it because he lost his super form while sonic didn’t, declared it on a whim thinking he’s on his deathbed, and then immediately retracting that statement as soon as he gets his memory back) imo seemed like a real cop out. That line in particular has been the source of so many years of speculation and theory-building, so to wave it off honestly is a tad disappointing.

I feel like this panel was really geared towards newcomers, to go along with how clearly obvious it is that SxSh generations is marketing for Sonic 3. But how many newcomers are realistically going to see the panel at an Anime Con or tuning in at 3 pm on a Friday afternoon? Based on the crowd reaction to the Gizoid, I’m gonna say not too many. I would have preferred if they had left, y’know, the actual game to explain to newcomers and have the panel be for the real Shadowheads out there but, but I digress.

TLDR: it was such a fumble to not include Shiro Maekawa in this panel. I don’t know what they would have needed to do to get him involved, but his absence here was severely felt. The way I felt everyone’s answer regarding anything related to Shadow’s character could be boiled down to, “you thought this edgy dark hero was evil….but he’s actually traumatized….” Which like while arguably true on the most surface level understanding of the character, that really doesn’t give anything new to audiences already familiar with the plot lol

okay but it is a little funny to me that they're doing the nostalgia bating with shadow now when his entire character arc was about. oh you know. Moving On instead of welling in the past

#op I’m so sorry for yapping on your post but your comment about 06 inspired me #and it got me thinking about why yesterday’s panel bothered me so much #we had 10 years of sonic nostalgia baiting so the shadow nostalgia bait is unsurprising #at least I love shadow’s narratives in those games oh well #shadow generations WILL still be peak #text

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kae-karo · 2 years ago

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So, this is a semi-random thing, but I think you'd have a lot to say on the subject: You know how a lot of people act like Kaeya only revealed his feral side after his fight with Diluc? Personally, I don't buy it. They were best friends for ages and Kaeya is explicitly stated to be the guy who insured Diluc's plans worked. I FULLY believe that these two were barely more cautious when Diluc was a captain than they are now - and that's BOTH of them. They're both a bit reckless and feral.

oh boy howdy do i have a lot to say lmaooooo

i'm not sure that 'feral' is the exact word i'd use here, so hopefully you don't mind if i just run wild a bit with my own thoughts on the matter!

i think you are absolutely right in that kaeya's personality isn't really...different. i mean, it probably is, to the outside eye, but i don't think he's changed at a fundamental level. i don't think diluc attacking him changed the underlying person that he was.

in kaeya's stories, he and diluc are described as a bit of a dynamic duo, in that they were always seen together, with kaeya considered diluc's friend, sounding board, and supporter (x) and as you said, he always ensured that diluc was successful - based solely on the next line in the story, that they protected mond "in both light and dark", i wouldn't be shocked if some of kaeya's manipulations began well before he lost diluc

a part of my thoughts here hinge on the idea that diluc did change a little after that night - in that his more reserved personality is a product of both the events of that night and of his time abroad. but prior to their fallout, i'd imagine diluc was far more upbeat and fiery, for lack of a better term, and i have no doubt that kaeya often took on the role of quelling his passion (read: righteous and likely reckless flames lmao have u seen the way that man sets the grass on fire) or to clean up his mess if something went awry

like, i fully believe that kaeya was the one to step between diluc and some perceived evildoer to prevent diluc from- well, from doing what he did to that abyss mage, at least at some point. or, in the event that he had some grandiose plan that kaeya needed to ensure went off without a hitch - and potentially without any severe injuries or catastrophes - he'd spend the whole night running around beforehand getting certain people in line or playing the spy in order to keep diluc's world running smoothly

and here's the thing - i don't think any of that has changed for kaeya. i think he still does all of this, if with a bit more panache than when he was younger. i don't think that night changed anything for him except his views of himself. he says it outright, that he felt guilty over deceiving diluc (x), and i think that factors heavily into the role he plays so openly: the deceiver, the manipulator, the one that nobody quite trusts. if he openly embraces the pained words that diluc had once hurled at him, if he becomes all that diluc hated about him, then surely it won't hurt so badly, right?

regardless, i don't think that any of his actions or behaviors are new. i think they're pursued more openly, now - that kaeya plays a part to achieve his goals and shield his heart - but i don't think it's entirely false. i'm a particular fan of one line from his stories, that he "actually enjoys putting people into the difficult position of making tough decisions" (x) because i think that sheds some very clear light on his character - it's not a concise matter of him being a sadist (although that point could be argued lmao) but rather an exemplification of how badly he's managing the fallout with diluc. after all, he spent years "[agonizing] over these impossible questions, caught between the opposing demands of loyalty and duty, faced with an impossible choice between truth and happiness" (x) and, for him, his darkest and most daunting moment was what ultimately forced him into showing his truest colors

now, one could argue (as kaeya probably would) that his 'truest colors' are the truth of his khaenri'ahn origin and the role forced upon him by that ancient plot, but i think it comes more down to the actions he took that night - that his truest colors are ones of loyalty to those he cares for, in spite of the way it might hurt him. by forcing others to undergo this same stress of a difficult decision, he is 1. not alone in his suffering and 2. able to discern where his subordinates' loyalties ultimately lie

[side note - i would apply this whole argument to his confrontation in the manga with collei as well, where he put her in genuine danger for the sake of determining whether or not she was the one in control of the thing inside her (x)]

ANYWAY circling back to the point - i think kaeya and diluc were reckless kids by every stretch of the imagination. put a pyro user together with his confidant and enabler and you're bound to get some chaos, even more so when they're both wildly competent and well-respected among the rest of the city. but i definitely suspect that their cares were not so deep at the time - how often would diluc have worried about the machinations of the fatui before his father's death, for example? i don't think that either of them ultimately, fundamentally changed, but their paths of expressing those underlying emotions and personalities might've changed in the wake of their fallout

#is this coherent? probably not lmao #genshin #genshin impact #kaeya #diluc #ask #anon

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lostgreekgod · 3 years ago

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delusion

a/n: hello aaaaa i had @theaudacitytowrite give me a prompt for a loki x reader fic solely because I do not find entertainment elsewhere! anyways

word count: 2776 (shit got longer, but what can I say I'm very feely when it comes to angst)

warnings: angst. angst angst angst. some crying. there was this one mention of blood, tendons & stuff ? but that's about it have fun crying

pairing: loki x f!reader

summary: you and Loki have been together for quite some time now. what happens when his insecure self realizes that you love him? and that he does too?

another a/n: I feel like this could use a part 2 i might come up with it next week because I've got a 7 day break from school yayy lmk if you'd like that nexie

4 years. It had been 4 years, 3 months, and 27 days since y/n had shed a tear. But on this fine autumn morning, as the yellow and brown leaves rustled in the gentle winds, as the smell of coffee, pumpkin, and spice wafted in the air, she let a tear fall- courtesy of her lover. No, scratch that. Her ex-lover.

\\ 3 hours earlier \\

Humming a tuneless song, an exhausted y/n walked back to her room in the Avenger’s tower. A whole day of training wouldn’t be smart when she had a crucial mission to lead just the next day, but she wanted the mission to pan out exactly right. This wasn’t her first mission, but the stats were so much more critical compared to the missions she had been sent on before. A new rival organization was springing up in SHIELD’s radar, and they seemed as high as ever in spirit, regardless of how the Avengers had managed to crush HYDRA not so long ago. Apparently, according to a message they had received a few moments before, the up-and-coming organization had 4 junior agents in captivity, and in exchange for those agents, they wanted intel. Fury’s plan was to provide a hard drive with incorrect information with an embedded virus, and have the agents rescued before the rival agents decrypted the file and realized SHIELD’s play. Two birds with one stone, as he had phrased. y/n was going to go in with Natasha and Loki. Nat, because she was as light as a cat on her feet, and Loki because he had his seidr for illusions, teleportation, et cetera. This wasn’t going to be her first mission with her 4-month boyfriend either, but she was excited to be fighting alongside him, nevertheless. As she washed up in the shower, she heard her room door open and close with a click. Finally. She thought with a smile. She could go to sleep in her beloved’s arms for the few hours she had left for rest and relaxation before they set out. Putting on her nightgown, she left the bath. She saw how Loki was cocooned on her bed, arms reaching out towards her, a little smile on his face. Unlike her, the god didn’t train much- but he still looked tired.

“Hello, my little lioness. Whom did you beat up today? You do realize it is wiser to rest before a mission.” He said in a loud, lazy whisper. All y/n could do was smile sweetly at him and snuggle under the covers. He knew how the lack of training made her insecure about her ability to be stealthy. Instead of letting Loki’s arms wrap around her like most of the other nights, she spooned his chest instead. Loki’s eyes widened at the sudden gesture, his body tensing up at the sudden disposal of love. He had only given love; he had never been on the receiving side of it. Wait, love? He didn’t love y/n. He didn’t. That swell he felt in his chest every time he saw her was simply the result of the great appreciation and respect he had for her. Nothing more. He couldn’t love her. After all, everyone he had ever loved ended up being taken away from him.

Chuckling lightly, he hoped y/n wouldn’t catch onto his nervousness. “What are you doing my dear?”

Inhaling his scent, y/n mumbled, her eyes still closed. “Sleeping. Go to sleep my love. We have to be up in less than 3 hours.”

My love? Yes, y/n had called him that multiple times, but he had never thought much of it. Why was he suddenly so wary of it? Did y/n truly love him? No, maybe she wasn’t thinking. She was already worn out and sleepy, maybe she blurted it out accidentally. No one could love him. No one.

y/n sensed that he still hadn’t relaxed. Cracking her eyes slightly open, she asked lightly, “Is everything okay, love?” Loki’s brows furrowed at her question. There it was again. Love. Loving him was impossible. To love him would be delusional. A move of delusional stupidity. Blatant ignorance.

Loki shifted away from her and sat up, ignoring the throbbing in his chest when he heard her whine in response. He met her eyes only to be asked another question. “Love, what’s the matter?”

His heart clenched against his chest, suddenly the room was too hot. He had to understand what was going on. He had to figure this out before it was too late.

“Love?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

y/n scanned his face, trying to understand the reason for his sudden withdrawal. She simply hummed in response.

Loki raised his eyebrows, indicating her to reiterate her response.

“Yes, what is the matter?”

“You referred to me as ‘love’.” He repeated, his tongue spewing out the last word like it was coated in dirt and grime.

“Yes, I suppose I did. Is something bothering you?” she asked again, placing her hand on his thigh as a gesture of concern.

How was he expected to ask her if she actually, truly loved him, without causing a kerfuffle? Without making it seem awkward, without losing her? What if she said she didn’t love him? What then? Would that make him feel better? Would that make him happy? A chill ran down his spine when he realized his answer. No. he wouldn’t be happy. In fact, he’d be terribly upset. He wanted y/n to love him. Shaking his head, he tried to heed logic over his emotion. He had to stop himself before he caused something he couldn’t fix. Before y/n realized the monster he truly was. He had to protect his beloved y/n, that would be the least he owed to her, after all that he had led her into.

He neutralized his expression, calming his breathing. This was for the best. He was the God of Lies, he did not deserve love after all that he had done.

“As a matter of fact, y/n, something is bothering me.”

y/n nodded, encouraging him to explain his predicament. “You can talk to me, love.”

Loki inhaled quickly, the use of the blasted term knocking him out of character for a second before he was able to regain his composure. He would ask the question directly. Right to the point, like he was doing business. That was the only way he could maintain his pretense without breaking down too soon. y/n might never forgive him after tonight, but to have her angry at him was so much better than losing her, on his account.

“Do you love me?”

y/n gasped lightly at the sudden question, her eyes widening at how Loki asked her about something so deep with no emotion in his voice. She sensed his sudden hostility, this coldness he was presenting her with. Sitting upright, she looked into his eyes. Nothing. She could read nothing from his expression. All she could pick up was this eerie sadness radiating off of him.

She decided to try reasoning with him. This sudden hostility meant something was bothering him at a much more personal level, and such issues mustn’t be dealt with before an important mission. She would know.

“We don’t have to do this today, Loki. We have to be up early tomorrow, and I doubt- “

“Answer the question, y/n.” Loki interrupted, his voice hardened like steel.

“Loki, we really mustn’t-“ she tried again.

“Answer, y/n.” he pressed.

y/n could only look at him and wonder what the cause was for the unexpected change in his demeanor. How was she supposed to tell him? How was she supposed to give the answer to the one question that could either make or break everything that they had together? How was she supposed to tell him that her love for him was far more than life? That he was her life? It didn’t matter how less time they had spent with each other; she knew him a lot longer before they had decided to begin their courtship, and she had fallen in love with him even before they had gotten romantically involved. She only fell harder for him after she saw how he truly was. How broken and vulnerable, how he yearned for a place in someone’s heart, how he wished someone could love him without any foretold conditions. How he wished to be free. Loki’s eyes widened as realization dawned upon him. y/n’s lack of response answered his question. She did love him. But he had to hear it from her. That was the only way he could finish this for good. For his y/n.

“I’m waiting.” He prompted, slightly flinching at the coldness in his voice.

y/n’s eyes flicked over to his, her skin eliciting goosebumps from the steely nature of his voice. He had never been like this to her. The last time she had seen him like this was when he was under Thanos’ control. Breathing deeply, she reached out and held his hands, shutting her eyes for a moment.

“Yes. I do. I love you,” she whispered, blood pounding against her ears. Her heart convulsed in her chest when Loki didn’t reply. She cracked her eyes open, her fingers growing cold at Loki’s unchanged demeanor.

Loki’s chest heaved at her response. ‘I love you,’ she had whispered, her eyes shut at the vulnerability of their situation. He already knew what she was going to say, but to hear it from her own mouth, her voice tiny as ever in fear that he wouldn’t return her feelings had him gasp slightly. His blood ran cold, his mind freezing at another realization. He loved her too. Of course he did. How could he have been so blind? He loved her so much, he hadn’t even noticed. Finish it! Finish it right now! Before you make things worse! His mind screamed at him. He knew what he had to do. Swallowing, he tried to memorize the feel of her hands against his. This was all he was ever going to have. A memory. A memory of his little lioness, a memory of what he would have had if he was someone different. Someone nicer, better. Someone not him. He pulled away from her, and met her eyes, his expression stoic and emotionless. Like the monster he was.

“Pity.” He whispered, his heartbreaking at how y/n’s eyes widened. He thought he experienced heartbreak when he lost his mother. As destructive as that moment was, many years ago, he believed he wouldn’t feel anything over this. After all, you can’t break something that’s already broken. But boy, was he wrong. This was heartbreak. And apparently, it's even worse when you go through it a second time. His veins felt like ice, his head heavier than ever. He could feel his throat closing up, all he wanted was to rip his heart out of his chest. He didn’t deserve her. Hell, he didn’t deserve to live after all that he had done.

“What?” came y/n’s voice, a little barely over a whisper. He couldn’t help but notice how her voice was heavy, laced with hurt.

“It’s a pity you think you love me.” He reiterated, his words chapping away at his already cracked heart.

y/n couldn’t process the event unfolding in front of her. Loki didn’t love her. No, worse. Loki thought it was stupid that she loved him. If she had any concern for her dignity, she would ask him to leave. But she loved him far too much. She decided to try one last time. Straddling him, she reached over and cupped his face in his hands, pressing her lips against his ice-cold ones. He was shocked for a moment, and before he realized, he was kissing her back. I love you, he wanted to say. I love you too. But all could do was try and engrave in his mind the feeling of her soft lips on his, the warmth of her hands against his cheeks. This was the end. He had to use all his willpower not to pull her in his arms and deepen the kiss, and whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

Breaking away, y/n whispered, “it may be stupid that I do. Pathetic, even. -It isn’t pathetic. I love it.- Honestly, not one day goes by where I don’t face criticism about how I must be an ignorant fool to love someone like you. But what these people don’t understand, is that they are the ones that are ignorant. They do not see you as I do, and although I wish every day that they would, I doubt it will ever happen. You are, the best thing that has ever happened to me. That ever will happen to me,” she says, taking his hand and placing it over her heart. “Can’t you feel this? This is what I feel every time I think of you- this is how I feel every time you merely breathe in my direction. -You are the reason I still exist, my dear. You keep me tethered to the outside world.- My love for you has been in existence for far longer than our courtship. I wish I could do more than just tell you how much I love you, if I could, I would give you anything, everything you’ve ever wanted; my heart was yours the moment I set eyes on you 2 years ago. So take it, trample over it- it was yours to do anything with anyway. -So was mine. I am yours, just as you claim to be mine.- I love you, Loki Friggason, and I refuse to stop. -I love you too, my darling y/n. but I must do this. For you. Forgive me.-”

All Loki could do was hold in all those thoughts he desperately wanted to put in words. He could feel his eyes well up, his chest convulsing for the umpteenth time. Inhaling her scent, he hoped he would remember the sweet smell of chocolate and wine she always smelled of.

With great restraint, he pushed her off of him, his heart churning at y/n’s gasp. Her heart cracked at his dismissal. He couldn’t look at her while he shattered her heart, while he ripped it right off the pedestal. This was the end.

“You say all this, but you mean nothing by it, I assure you. I have encountered numerous midgardians professing their love for me, but I can tell when someone lies y/n. And it is very clear to me how you are simply overwhelmed. You do not love me. You are simply but a blatant, ignorant fool.” Could his heart shatter any further? Apparently, yes. It clawed at his chest, pain searing in his bones. He would feel all of it. He would embrace it.

He forced his lips to morph into a twisted, sickening smile. Agony. That is what he felt. Fresh burning agony, like fire in his tendons.

“What we have is all but a product of boredom. I was simply bored, silly mortal.” He looked up at her when she gasped, her hand on her heart. It was almost as if he could hear it shatter. All he wanted to do was hold her and weep. Tell her how sorry he was. Tell her how he wished he was the person she truly deserved. Instead, he was going to crawl into a ball and wish for death.

He got up to leave. Once and for all. Shutting his eyes for a moment, he willed his tears to sink back to wherever they came from. He didn’t deserve to cry.

“Did I ever matter to you?” he heard her whisper. Deciding not to answer, he stepped towards the door before she called to him. “Did I, Loki?” she asked again, her voice steadier. There was the woman he had hopelessly fallen in love with. A lioness, she certainly was.

He turned around to look at her, the same lifeless smile dancing across his lips. If he was someone else, he would have been taken aback at y/n’s stoic expression. She would rise again. She would continue to live her life, and no one was going to stop her. Especially him. That was the lioness he knew of. The only evidence of her hurt was the tiny teardrops prickling in her eyes, which he could see only because of the morning sun rays peeking in through the gaps in the curtains. She never cried.

“No,” he breathed, swiftly exiting through the door before she could see the tears that had traitorously fallen onto his cheeks.

part 2 here!

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