#it'll probably take a long time to get finished but that's ok :) a lot of the process is just learning. i like learning new things.

[wormywormz]

gamedev doodles

[angel-eyes05]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known (part 2)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

pairing: spider-woman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: life on the run is not for the weak. you're reminded of this once you run into someone you haven't seen in a while

warnings: a lot of angst (there'll be fluff and smut soon i swear i just feel like writing angst right now lmao), HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, mentions and descriptions of blood and injuries, this is so against canon its insane

word count: 2.2k

notes: ok so i changed my mind, miguel and the reader arent gonna make up just yet🤭. trust me when they do it'll be worth it lmao. im gonna need everyone to suspend their belief for the next chapters cause im kind of just making up the plot to beyond the spider-verse at this point for this silly little fic so just go with it

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God, this was very quickly turning out to be a very bad decision. The movies made being on the run seem a lot easier than this. What they had failed to include was how easily it was to get ambushed by Spider-Society members while hopping between the dimensions looking for Miles. Your little group basically had to hop through a bunch of different dimensions within a week and look for him there, then leave before HQ managed to track you guys down. You’re not sure how much time has passed since you left. Maybe a few weeks. Maybe a few months. The passage of time was pretty weird when you were constantly hopping through the fabric of space and time. All you knew is that your eyes had naturally dulled out the neon orange light that shined from the portals you were constantly jumping through. Luckily, none of your team had been caught yet. There had been a few close calls, but only two of those led to severe injuries, one of them being Gwen, and the other time being you.

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You and your team had been ambushed due to a malfunction with the portal opening. Each of you were put with your own variant to fight. Just to your luck, you were confronted by Jess. She looked awful to be honest. Stressed. She was probably put on finding you and your team while Miguel endlessly searched for Miles. This little wild goose chase had tired her out. Part of you felt bad. But that was very quickly overcome by the feeling of betrayal growing in your chest. You had a feeling she felt a similar way. “Please don’t make me do this. Just let me take you home,” she said weakly. Home. That’s right. That's basically what HQ had been to you before. You hadn’t been back to your Earth in five years, ever since Miguel caught you on the top of that building. Jessica was your first friend there. She had shown you the ropes to everything, been there for you during your lowest moments, and guided you to your highest ones. And now you had to repay her by sending her back to Miguel in a bloody pulp. You hated that this is how things had to go. But such was life for someone like you. “I have no home anymore,” you said at her monotonically before charging at her with your fists first. She’s quick to react, using one of her webs to swing away. It’s clear she doesn’t want to hurt you, each of her movements swift to defend herself, but never going on the offensive side. She could easily take you down if she wanted to. She had been doing this longer than you had and was more skilled than you too. She was going easy on you, desperately trying to show you she didn’t want to fight. But you didn’t care. You had put too much on the line to start to give up now.

The others had taken down their foes long before you had finished with Jess. You could see Gwen running up to you out of the corner of your eye, Ben tied up in a web behind her. You webbed her to the floor before she could get closer to the struggle you and Jess were currently in. You gave Gwen a quick, reassuring nod that she returned before running off to find the others. Once Gwen was out of sight, you quickly attached a web to Jess’ face, and pulled it down into your knee, knocking her glasses off her face and shattering on the floor. With her off her balance, you took the opportunity to try to knock her out. You slammed your fists into her face, one after the other, releasing all of the stress that had accumulated in your body over the past couple of months into her cheeks. You couldn’t see the damage you were doing, blinded by rage and betrayal and your fists blocking out her face. The only thing you could see was the blood splattering off of her face onto yours. You felt a voice in the back of your head begging you to stop. You desperately wanted to, but you had lost control of your body. Jess wasn’t the real person you wanted to hurt here, you already knew who that was. But she was the closest thing you could get to him right now. And if you were being honest with yourself, she wasn’t completely innocent to you either.

In her last desperate attempt to save herself, Jess shoved her forearm in the way of your balled up knuckles, grabbed a piece of shattered glass from her broken frames, and shoved it deep into your chest. Your reign of fury on her face suddenly stopped as pain quickly snapped through your body. You quickly fell to your knees, partially out of shock, and looked down to see the blood spilling out of your chest. As Jess dropped to her knees as well, you could finally get a gauge of the damage you’ve done. You couldn’t tell if the blood loss was making you see things, but her nose looked almost crooked, a dark cut slicing through the middle of it and blood pouring out of both nostrils. Both of her eyes were swollen, not entirely shut but on their way there. You looked down at your hands, the skin on your knuckles broken off and bleeding through the fabric of your suit, blending in with its natural red. They were trembling with a mixture of faded anger and new guilt. I never wanted to hurt her, you kept repeating to yourself in your head, as if it was going to make any difference. Maybe if you thought it hard enough, it would erase your actions. You suddenly flinched when you felt Jessica’s hand cupping your face. You looked up at her, mouth agape. Her soft thumb brushed your face as she stared lovingly at your face. So she did know. That made you feel a little less stupid when you broke down in front of her then and there. You just felt awful. Jess was your friend. Your best friend probably. And look at what you’ve done to her. You couldn’t understand how she managed to still be so soft with you, despite how much you’ve just mutilated her face. 

It was ever harder for you to understand how quickly she enveloped you as soon as she saw the tears begin to streak her face. You didn’t deserve this. You should run away. You need to run away. You’re currently bleeding out, and you’re just sitting here, sobbing into the crook of her neck. She’s probably just stalling for time and holding you here until help comes for her. But the longer you sat here the longer you realized…this was just her. It was only Jess here. No help was coming. Jess just wanted to hold you again one last time before letting you run away again. Once you pulled away from her, she wiped away your tears. “Don’t let me catch you,” she whispered into your ear. It was a reminder to you that while she was still holding onto her beliefs, that didn’t mean she ever stopped caring for you. She helped to push you up off of the ground, her hands now covered in your blood. You began to walk away out of  the dark alley to look for the others. Before leaving entirely, you turned around to look at Jess, still laying there. “I’ll find you once this is all over. So don’t you dare die on me, okay?” you shouted at her. She gave a simple nod in return, watching as you stumbled out of alley way. While you made the ultimate decision to let her live that day, you still had anger boiling up in your body. Somebody had to pay for all of this. All of this chaos that was about to unleash itself onto the multiverse. And you know exactly who did. And you didn’t intend to show him the same mercy you showed Jess. No. This was a job you intended to finish. 

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Thankfully, your chest laceration healed up quicker than expected, allowing you and your teammates to get back on track. Images of your encounter with Jess replayed through your mind for the next couple of weeks. The only other person you told about the details of your brutalization of Jess was Peter B., knowing he would understand with all the hard decisions he’s had to make himself. Gwen and Hobie had also noticed that you were acting a little bit off, but you avoided the subject every time they would bring it up. 

Suddenly though, it was happening. The moment you and your team had anticipated for the past couple of weeks. You were awoken by the bright glow of three orange portals opening up, three Spider-Men in each. Your team sprang awake and began to make a run for it. It was no use though, as one by one, each member of your team was separated by a different group of variants, until it was just you, Gwen, and Peter running. While you were running, you felt a hand yank at the hair on the back of your head. You quickly turned around and found Ben Reilly as the culprit. You didn’t hesitate to jump into the air and kick his face, pushing him off of you and onto the floor. As the three of you kept running, your attention was suddenly caught by something else. “Keep your hands off her! That one’s mine!” you heard the familiar voice call out to Ben. A chill went down your spine, as the three of you stopped dead in your tracks. You did it. You finally managed to lure the bat out of his cave. Before you could turn around and find the face that belonged to that deep, alluring voice, you were caught off guard as you felt a body dive into your stomach at full speed, knocking all of the air out of you lungs. The pure force of the dive pushed you and the figure into the brick wall of an abandoned building, crashing into the structure. 

Vision and hearing fuzzy from the impact, you heard Gwen scream out your name and begin to start running to you, before her and Peter B. get swept up by their own variants to take care of. Your head throbs in pain as you look around the building, feeling a huge weight on your chest. You look down at the rest of your body to find what’s weighing you down so much. And it’s him. Miguel’s massive body laying on top of you, his head dug into your stomach and arms wrapped around your waist from the dive. You were partially in shock. First of all, from the fact that your first interaction with him in months is him attempting to kill you (although it’d be a lie to say you weren’t thinking similar things). Second, you were still reeling from the blow. And third, the most shocking of all, was that this was arousing you in some way. Despite how much anger you were feeling towards him right now, you still managed to get butterflies in your stomach from how much of him was on top of you right now. He basically enveloped all of the lower half of your body. 

Shame and anger filled your body fast as you tried to push him off of you, any attempts in vain though due to how massive he was. He helped you though when he began to stand up, allowing you to get yourself up and dive through his legs as an escape. Just as you made your attempt to run out of the hole in the wall, away from a fight you know you couldn’t win, Miguel’s giant hand wrapped around your forearm. He pulled your body back to face him and slammed his massive fist into your face. Blood spurted out of your nose purely from the impact and you were nearly knocked onto the floor. You grabbed your nose in reaction and looked up at him towering over you, unable to make out his expression from his mask. “You must’ve been thinking about this encounter for a while. Have you been thinking about me, Miggy?” you quipped at him. Usually you spoke playfully with him whenever you were in a good mood with him, but this time it was your one desperate attempt to push down any feelings that would get in the way of you doing what needed to be done. “Don’t feel so flattered cariño. Whatever happens here isn’t personal,” he said in that deep, flirty tone you always found so sexy. But right now all it did was piss you off even more. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better,” you said, dropping the slight smirk you had on your face. Taking action right away, you charged right at him, ready to do it right this time. You just wished he had his mask off so you could look him dead straight in his crimson eyes as you killed him.

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NEXT CHAPTER

a/n: i had night shift by lucy dacus on loop while writing the fight with jessica....thats all ill say on the matter. also sorry miguel's barely in this chapter i need to set up plot and shit. ALSO I JUST WANNA PREFACE, MY FIC TAKES PLACE A COUPLE OF MONTHS AFTER ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE SO JESS HAD ALREADY GIVEN BIRTH. I SWEAR Y/N DID NOT JUST BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF A PREGNANT LADY��💀💀

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[lottesreads]

Why Me? - Part 12

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Warnings: Forbidden relationship, some angst, mentions of nightmares, mentions of PTSD, swearing, mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, therapy (we love), mentions of death/being sick, mentions of limb loss (it'll all make sense),

Word Count: 9500

Summary: Everyone prepares for the storm, and you're left with a lot to think about as some forgotten feelings come back.

A/N: Hiiii guys, I am so sorry this took SO LONG. For some reason it was so hard to write and school started so ya know how that goes. But hopefully this makes up for it?? I love all of you and as always I hope you enjoy. Reblogs and comments feed my life force just btw

p.s. you know I love to hear what you think, so fire away

Masterlist

Bob knows he messed up. He knows that, and as much as he wishes he never put you in this situation to begin with, he can’t undo what he said. Things have just gone completely downhill since he told you how he felt and it just…. feels like it’s all his fault. You’re quiet, secluding yourself, and almost scared at work now. But there’s not much he can do if you refuse to open up to him. He can’t help but worry for you, but it’s up to you now. If you want to talk to him, great. If not, he just hopes you talk to someone else.

The wind has slowly been gaining speed since early this morning when he took Sylvia out for a run. It was his last chance to get her out of the house before the shit hit the fan and he wasn’t gonna keep her cooped up anymore than she had to be. He’s been in a daze since yesterday. Can’t quite seem to focus on anything he puts before him, including the several garden gnomes and pieces of porch furniture belonging to his neighbors.

“You sure all of this will fit in the garage?”, he asks while carrying a chair down from the front steps.

“Oh I’m sure”, Rich replies. His eyes have been more focused on placing their gnome collection inside the house, but he’s been making room for everything else in the garage. He’s skeptical as he eyes the rest of the room, they’ve still got to fit their cars inside, too. He’s sure if he moved a couple of those storage bins to a higher shelf he’d be able to-

“You’ve already done enough for us, why don’t you come inside for some sweet tea, huh?”

“I’m ok”, he tries to brush him off.

“I’m not taking no for an answer Bob”, Rich offers with a raise of his thick eyebrow. Bob gives in, like he does most of the time with these two, and follows Rich inside. Harry sits at the table as he wraps up the rest of their pointy-hat clad lawn ornaments, but pauses at the sight of his husband.

“How’s everything going out there?”

“We’re just about done”, Rich responds from behind the fridge door, “I thought we deserved a water break.” Bob laughs to himself, he really hasn’t done much except move a couple pieces of furniture. He probably could have been finished by now if they didn’t keep offering him water or tea.

“Oh that reminds me”, Harry turns to his husband, “We need to bring the hose from the side of the house in. I forgot when I finished watering the garden yesterday.” Bob isn’t able to take one step in the direction of the door before Rich urges him into the seat across from Harry.

“Don’t you worry about that one young man, I got it.”

“It’s really no trouble-”

“I insist, you take a seat and drink your tea. You can take a turn listening to Harry complain for once.” Rich slides a glass of sweet tea in front of Bob before patting Harry on the shoulder and stepping outside.

“I just wish I could help you boys more”, Harry starts. “But ya know the leg starts acting up whenever a storm is coming.” He emphasizes his point by tapping his metal prosthetic onto the side of the table, shaking it the slightest bit. Bob’s never sure if he’s talking about the actual prosthetic hurting, or what’s left of his leg, but at this point he’s too scared to ask. All he knows is that whenever he gets a call from Harry early in the morning, there’s bound to be a storm before the day’s over. This time however, he got his weather from the news, like a normal person.

“So-”, Harry starts as Bob takes a swig from his glass, “Are we going to be seeing Miss Mitchell anytime soon?” The sweet tea halts in Bob’s throat, sliding down the wrong tube and causing him to choke on the beverage. He does his best to not drop the glass onto the table in order to stop himself from spraying the drink everywhere, but Harry looks like he could care less as his brow raises. Bob clearly was not expecting him to bring you up, and Harry’s squint gives into the fact he’s happy to catch him off guard.

“I’d make an assumption, but I’m not quite sure how to make one out of that kind of reaction.” Bob continues trying to clear his throat by coughing, but Harry waits.

“No”, he chokes, “She uh- she won’t be coming by anytime.” Harry hums to himself as he turns back to the bubble wrap.

“That’s too bad. She was quick, I liked her.” Me too, Bob thinks to himself. He just gives him a slight frown at the news. “Seemed like you were pretty fond of her, too.” Bob’s cheeks heat up at his insinuation, and he tries to make a run for it.

“Ok! I should probably go help-”

“Sit back down”, Harry groans. Bob begrudgingly does as the man says as he begins to toy with the condensation forming on his glass. “All I’m saying is, you both obviously like each other. What gives?” All he can do is shake his head at the thought. There’s too much, but maybe he’ll understand.

“There’s just a lot of other stuff involved.”

“Oh yeah, like what?”

“Well, for starters her title isn’t ‘Miss’... it’s Lieutenant.” Bob’s gaze flicks over to watch Harry’s eyes widen in realization.

“Shit. Is she a WSO, too?”

“Nah, she’s a pilot”, he smiles, “A damn good one.” Harry chuckles as he crosses his arms.

“I shoulda known.” Bob furrows his brows, silently asking him to explain. “She just had this look in her eye…Can’t really explain it.” Bob knows the one. The silent determination he sees whenever you climb into the cockpit. No matter what happens on the ground, once you ascend that ladder… you’re focused. And no one can take that away from you.

“So that’s it then? You're just gonna let her go?” Harry probes as Bob shakes his head. He focuses on a grain of wood in the table, avoiding the man’s gaze.

“It’s against strict rules”, Bob shrugs, “I don’t want to be the reason she gets into trouble. It’s better if we just leave it.”

“Is it?” Bob grabs his glass of sweet tea and takes a sip before Harry leans forward in his seat, “If I know anything about you Bob, it’s that you’ve got a level head on those shoulders. And from what I can tell about Lieutenant Mitchell, it’s that she does, too. But you can’t forget underneath all of that, you have hearts. You can’t leave that out of the equation.” Bob stills as he taps his finger on the rim of his glass. Yeah, Bob has a heart, but you do, too. And who knows if deep down this is what you really want? If he’s what you really want.

His thoughts are interrupted by Harry once again, this time as he finishes wrapping up the last gnome.

“Mitchell, huh?” Bob mindlessly nods. “You don’t happen to know if she’s got any family who served, do ya?”

“Yeah, actually. Her dad just happens to be our captain. Pete Mitchell-”

“Maverick?!”, Harry all but yells. “That cocky motherfucker’s still in service?” The front door slams shut as Rich makes his way back inside.

“What cocky motherfucker are we talking about?”, he asks as if this is a normal topic of conversation for the two of them.

“Pete Mitchell”, Harry tells him as he stares at Bob in awe.

“Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time”, Rich replies as he grabs himself and Harry their own drinks. Bob pivots in his seat as Rich brings both glasses to the counter, eyes wide in shock. “Don’t tell me-” He’s obviously already made the connection as Harry nods at him. He simply shrugs and continues to pour their drinks, brushing off the fact that Harry seems to be stuck on. Something he thought Rich of all people would want to talk about.

“Did you fly with him?” Bob directs the question at Harry. He rolls his eyes.

“For a very brief time. He’s a few years younger than me, but always acted like he was the best of the best. Didn’t even win the goddamn Top Gun trophy.”

“Well”, Rich chimes in as he sets the glass in front of Harry, “That wasn’t entirely his fault.” Bob’s eyes unintentionally squint as he tries to think back on what he actually knows about your dad. There’s very limited information he sought after Hangman revealed he flew with Rooster’s dad, and- then it hits him.

“Wait”, he stops the two men, “Were you guys here when they had the accident?”

“I wasn’t”, Harry responds, “But Rich was. He was actually one of the-” Rich’s hand claps down on his husband’s shoulder, effectively stopping him from finishing the story. He grants Bob a forced smile.

“I was. It was a… a very sad day.” Rich keeps moving, leaving his glass of tea untouched as he moves the box of packed up gnomes to the living room. Bob leaves it at that. If there was more to the story he wouldn’t want to probe where he’s not welcome to.

After helping move the small outdoor coffee table into the garage, he insists on parking their cars himself. Just to make sure he did leave enough room for everything to fit. And with his many years experience with Tetris, he’s able to pack anything that the wind might sweep away into safe hiding spaces for the night.

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If the puffy eyes that greet you in the mirror are any indication that you’d been crying, the wad of tissues scattered around your trash can would certainly do the trick. It was an ugly cry, one that you realized was futile to resist against the snot dripping down your nose. You’d cried more in the past couple months than you had in the past five years. Not to mention you haven’t cried to the point where you kept a roll of toilet paper to use as tissues next to your bed since you were a teenager. But even then you had mastered to cry in silence, to not alert anyone or “bother” someone with the noise of your anguish.

It wasn’t a question that was the reason for your headache. You even forgot you got hit in the face until you tried wiping the sleep from your eyes, only to pull your hand away as soon as it brushed near the red and purple bruise.

“Son of a bitch”, you muttered as you made your way to the bathroom. The wind howls outside your room as you splash your face with cold water, hoping to reduce the swelling before inevitably seeing your father. Gently, you wipe your face with a towel, taking a good hard look at the aftermath from the night before. You huff out a breath before tearing your gaze away from the mirror, gathering the tissues you’d thrown half-heartedly in the direction of the trash can the night before.

Your father is already up and moving as you descend the stairs. Granted, you did allow yourself to sleep in today. He’s sitting on the couch, slipping his shoes on when you make eye contact. He immediately smiles with a grimace upon seeing your face.

“Hey sweetheart”, he greets you, “How you feeling this morning?” You simply scoff and turn to the kitchen. The coffee machine is still warm, your dad already having at least his second cup of the day.

“Like I got hit in the face”, you respond. The machine hums while you let it work, and you grab an emblazoned Navy mug from the cabinet. You turn to lean on the counter, watching him finish lacing up his boots. “Where are you going?”

“Well, Penny’s moving everything at the bar and I figured since I took care of our stuff yesterday, I’d go help out. Plus it’ll be my last chance to take the bike for a spin this weekend.”

“And they say chivalry is dead”, you comment as the coffee seeps into your cup. He chuckles and makes his way over to you. You turn, mug in hand as he walks up. He grimaces again at your face, but his shoulders slump as he notes your puffy eyelids. “How’d you sleep”

“Alright”, you mumble.

“I can stay here if-”

“Dad”, you groan as you roll your eyes, “What am I, five?”

“No- but I’m just saying, if you need me I’ll be here for you.”

“I know, but I’ll be fine.” He seems unsure as he glances between you and the front door. “Go”, you urge him, “Be a knight in shining armor.” He laughs again as he bids you goodbye and leaves. The rumble of his motorcycle tapering off as he exits the neighborhood.

Truly, you are fine. You’re not great, but you’ve been worse. In fact, this is probably the most down time you’ve had in a while. If you were still talking to Bob you would probably text him and see what he was up to, but alas. There’s not much to do except waste away for the rest of the day. Which is exactly what you do. You turn the t.v. on and throw your feet up. They almost hit the large box Bradley left yesterday. You guess you could see what’s in there for you, but you’re already so comfortable and it's just so… far away. And soon enough, your eyes are drooping shut again.

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The day passes by painlessly as you switch from folding laundry, to eating whatever is left in the fridge. Your headache slowly dissipates with every bite of food and drink of water, but as it gets closer to evening, the noises from outside get louder and louder. A leaf from a palm tree being ripped from its home and hitting the side of the house, ran pattering, and thunder booming in the distance.

Deciding you’ve had enough of scrolling aimlessly through your phone, you move back to the living room and turn on something you can watch without much thought. The cardboard box Bradley brought over still sits on the coffee table, and huffing out a breath you decide to take the lid off. There’s a bundle of old photos, a couple of dirtied up baseballs, and an old envelope you move to look at, but your phone rings before you can inspect it further. Your dad’s face appears on the screen and you swipe to answer.

“Hey dad, what’s up?”

“Hey kiddo, listen, there was a lot that needed to be boarded up and taken care of at the bar, I just barely got back to Penny’s. I know everything’s taken care of at the house, but the wind and rain are picking up. I don’t want to leave you alone, but it might be safer just to spend the night here. Are you gonna be ok?”

“Dad, I'll be fine. I’d feel better knowing you’re at Penny’s rather than driving your bike in the storm.” You can hear him sigh on the other end. Even with your permission you know he still feels guilty leaving you.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“I swear. I’ll be fine.”

“Ok sweetheart. Promise you’ll call me if anything happens or you need me, ok?”

“I promise”, you can’t help but smile through your words at his protectiveness.

“Alright, well I love you, and hopefully things will slow down and I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Love you, too, dad. Bye.” He bids you goodnight, even if it isn’t 8 o’clock yet, it feels like much later with the storm clouds covering up any chance of dying sunlight.

Turning back to the box you pick up the envelope, there’s an unexpected weight to it and you hold your breath at the sight of Carole’s handwriting. There’s one word on the front and it’s simply labeled “Bug”. Your once steady hands shake as you trace the folded edge that has been sealed for almost two decades. You can’t open it fast enough, but at the same time you’re hesitant to see quite possibly what her last words to you could be. Slipping your finger under the seal, you try to minimize the damage as it rips open. As if it were an extension of the woman herself.

Inside sits a lined piece of journal paper, folded neatly into thirds. But your eyes linger on the item weighing it down as you huff out a breath in disbelief. Your fingers reach inside, and once completely taken out of its hiding place, a silver chain with a butterfly pendant hangs from your hand. 

 With the necklace still wrapped around your fingers, your eyes water as you reach for the note, unfolding it. The paper shakes as your heartbeat quickens. And her voice fills your head while you trace the all familiar cursive with a featherlight touch.

My Darling Bug,

Did you really think I wasn’t going to notice this found its way back into my possession? I don’t know why or when you did this, but I thought I told you it wasn’t mine anymore. I gave this to you for a reason, Bug. I wanted you to know that Bradley, your dad, and I will always be with you. I think you might need it now more than ever. It might be a little different, but I don’t want you to look at it and be sad I’m not with you. I want you to look at it and be happy that I still am, no matter what.

I know I made you promise me to be brave. And you have kept that promise, so if you think you haven’t, you’re wrong. But maybe I should have worded it differently, because you don’t need to be brave like anybody else. I want you to continue being brave like you. Because I know you are. Even so, I want you to remember how I got this necklace in the first place. It all happened because Goose was brave enough to ask. He taught me that being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared anymore. It means that even though you are scared, you do it anyway. You don’t run from it, you face it head on. He always told me I wasn’t born with the fear part of my brain intact, but he was wrong. When we lost him, I knew for a fact that part of my brain was there. I was so scared, but I knew I had to keep going. If not for me, then for Bradley and your dad. Heaven knows your dad was scared out of his mind, but that’s what makes him one of the bravest people I know. He kept flying, and then soon enough, you came along and changed our lives completely. And I know I’m rambling, but I just need you to know how much you mean to me- to all of us.

So I don’t want you to live your life in fear or with regrets, wondering the same things, so please; continue to be the brave girl I know you are. It’s hard to take those first steps. But it is so worth the risk, because you deserve everything good this world has to offer.

And this may or may not make it easier, but I just ask that you take this back and wear it with pride. I will always be with you, bug. And I can’t stand another moment having this sitting in my jewelry box, collecting dust when you can wear it and put it to much better use. You deserve it. I love you very much, don’t forget that.

P.S. I know Bradley’s a big boy and he acts like he can take care of himself, but I know he’ll need you just as much as you need him. Same with your dad. Be there for each other.

-Love, Carole

You move the letter away from under your face as you feel the tears start to fall. You’re just quick enough as they hit your lap instead. The necklace is now safely encased in your grip as you take in a ragged breath. All this time- You can’t stomach the thought. This entire time, these past 16 years you’ve been separated from this last piece of Carole you never even knew existed. And the necklace you thought was lost to time now sits in your palm. You hold on to it. Tight.

You still don’t let go as you gingerly place the letter back in the envelope. Deciding you need to put these two things in a safer spot than your living room, you walk up to your room and go to the shoebox above your closet. Inside, you move the velvet box with your Academy ring to the side, making room for the letter. You almost place the necklace in with it, but you’re not going to disobey Carole by not putting it on the next chance you get.

With the silver chain still wrapped in your hand, you put the shoebox back, just about tripping over your flight suit in the process. In everything that happened yesterday after therapy you must have forgotten to put it in your laundry basket, or hang it up at least. As you pick the jumbled green fabric up, your ears prick up at the sound of something hitting the floor. The gleam of a copper coin catches your eye and you drop your uniform altogether, opting to pick it up instead.

Carole’s words swirl through your head as your heart rate picks up. You stare at the penny in one hand, and open your other to reveal the silver butterfly. The memory of Bob’s crooked smile fills your senses and your heart beats faster again. There’s a phantom ache of his hand cradling yours, gently placing that first penny into your palm on the tiled floor of the locker room. Even before you kissed there was this urge to want to get to know him from deep inside the dark recesses of your heart. From places you thought you blocked off and boarded up after your last boyfriend. You left no room for weakness, no room for anyone to have the upper hand, but yet, you feel safe around Bob. You still do, even after it tore you to shreds resisting that same urge to talk to him, to look at him. It scares you, how after only meeting him a few months ago, it feels like he knows the darkest parts of you, and still wants to learn more. To care for you in a way that you haven’t let someone in a long time. And you want to do the same for him.

That urge sends chills up your spine as thunder booms in the distance, the once small patter of rain picking up as it hails on your roof. Clenching the penny in your fist, you delicately hold the necklace in the other, and you swear the lightning reflects off the silver butterfly, almost winking at you. In the glint, you hear Carole’s voice from when she first gave it to you, and again through her writing. “Be brave”, her whisper echoes. And in that moment, your heart beats louder, anticipating what you know you’re going to do next before your brain has the time to catch up. Placing the necklace on your side table next to your bed, your feet sprint down the stairs the moment the chain leaves your fingers.

You can hardly differentiate the thud of your feet  from the thunder that is somehow getting closer by the second. Throwing on the nearest jacket and lacing up your shoes, you grab your keys and head to the garage. Your old faithful Toyota lays dormant as you jump in, and start the engine. Or at least try to. It sputters a couple times as you turn the key again, and again.

“No, no, no. Please”, you plead as you take a deep breath, holding out hope as you try one last time, “C’mon!” With a final twist, the engine roars to life. “Yes! Thank you!” The garage opens and closes with the click of a button as you peel out of the driveway, probably a little too fast, but who would be crazy enough to be on the streets in these conditions?

The rain doesn’t stop on your account, and both hands are white knuckling the steering wheel as you attempt to maintain the little control you have of your vehicle over mother nature. Your windshield wipers are moving as fast as they can, but it’s little to no good as you traverse the streets. You might have been better off with a canoe.

Nonetheless, you’re so close. Your destination is only a couple blocks away, practically in sight as your car lurches forward, sputtering, before ultimately slowing as you pull to the side of the road.

“No, no, no, are you kidding me?!”, you scream as you hit the steering wheel. She was doing so good! What happened? Placing the car in park, you remove the key and try again, but nothing. Squinting through the rain pattered window, you make out the street sign up ahead as it sways in the wind. This is ok. You can do this. Clenching your jaw and ensuring your phone is buried deep in one of your pockets along with your keys, you push against the gusts of wind and open the car door.

Your face is immediately pelted with ice-like bullets, raining down on you without mercy. Even with the hood of your jacket on, it does no good as you run across the sidewalk and turn down the street. A few house lights are on, but you can barely see as the rain washes over you in sheets. A gust of wind almost gets the better of you as you try your hardest to hold the hood to your head, creating any kind of cover you can. You are so close to throwing in the towel. So close to going back to your car and hiding away until the storm is over. But you didn’t come this far just to turn back. You will not give up.

Shining just a bit brighter than every other house on the street, your destination is in sight. Just one block and your feet make the decision for you to move faster. To run like you never have before, because this time you’re not running from anything. You’re running towards something. The rain hits you quicker, but it’s hard to feel it soak through your clothes as your feet pound against the pavement. 

Your shoes slip on the step to the front door, and your fist meets the entrance much sooner than you were expecting. It creates a loud knock, but there’s no sign of life behind the door. Gaining your footing back, you knock once more. Nothing. You knock twice again. Damn it. He must not be able to hear you through the storm’s havoc. You don’t care anymore, you weren’t thinking when you hopped in your car, and you aren’t trying to stay out in the rain all night. Your knuckles are knocking repeatedly on the door, and that’s when you hear Sylvia bark. She’s getting louder as she moves closer to the door and you continue your knocking, hoping he’ll hear you over her.

“Please, c’mon”, you mutter to yourself as your teeth chatter against the words. Your knuckles are going raw from the sheer cold and the fact that you’ve been hitting them against the door for what feels like 20 minutes. The door opens with a rush of warm air and you’re greeted with the halo wrapped face of someone who only feels like warmness and comfort. The light shines around his features as they contort at what stands in front of him.

“Mantis, what the hell?!”, he yells through the wind while reaching forward to pull you inside. “Oh my god, are you crazy?!”, he exclaims as he holds your arms in place. Your teeth are chattering as he tells you to stay put before coming back with a towel that he promptly throws over your shoulders. It doesn’t do much good as you’re soaked to the bone, but he’s frantically looking for more before you reach out for him.

“Bob-”

“What are you doing here?!”

“I- I’m being brave”, you explain through the pounding rain and thunder. He pauses just for a moment, then shakes his head as he stares at you in utter confusion.

“Did you.. run here? Mantis, are you ok?”

“Bob I’m fine-”

“Do you know where you are? How did you get here?”

“Bob!”, you finally raise your voice and he meets your gaze instead of your rain-drenched form. “I will explain everything, but please just let me say what I came here to say”, you breathlessly supply. He looks back to you, hesitant, but nodding to let you continue.

“Ok”, he whispers. You can barely feel your fingers, or your toes for that matter, but your shaky hand reaches into your pocket and grasps onto the single penny you came here with. The only thing that you made sure to bring.

“What did you mean by this?”, you ask as you hold it out in front of him. “When you gave this to Phoenix, what did you want me to make of this?” His eyelashes flutter in a series of blinks as he silently takes in a breath. Without meaning to, the coin shakes in your hand, and he rushes an answer before you have to stand there any longer.

“It means what it’s always meant. I know I messed everything up, but I still want you to feel like you can trust me, and talk to me. Because you can. I know how scary it can be, and it’s…rare to find someone you feel so comfortable to be around and talk to about the nitty gritty parts of your life. And I like to believe I was that for you for a little bit, ‘cause… you were that for me.” Your heart melts at his sentiment as you continue to drench the walkway of his home.

“Now can you please tell me why you drove here in the middle of a hurricane?” You swallow, hoping whatever fears you have fall to the back of your throat to make room for what you need to tell him. Because, here you are: Soaking wet, standing in Bob’s home, with nothing but a penny and the knowledge that even if you’re scared, you can do this anyway.

“Bob”, you sigh, “You have not messed anything up. In fact, you did something I was too afraid to do.” Taking another deep breath, you ignore the lines riddled in his forehead and continue.

“I have been scared for most of my life. I know sometimes I act like I’m invincible, but I’m not. But I am also sick of being scared. I am sick of pretending. Life is too damn short, and for once instead of just acting like I am, I am trying to be brave. I can’t let this be another ‘what if’. I won’t let you be that. You deserve to at least know how I feel.”

“Mantis, you don’t have to-”

“No, but I want to”, you nod with authority, solidifying to Bob that this is a risk you want to take. You take in another deep breath as it fills you with courage. “Bob, it’s hard to explain, but- you make me feel brave. But at the same time you also scare the shit out of me”, you can’t help but laugh as the crease in his forward melts a little bit. “You scare me because you care so deeply for the people around you, and you’re so generous, and kind, and I can’t help but want to be around you all the time. And- and I’m rambling aren’t I?”, you ask as he breathes out a miniscule laugh. And then you’re gifted with the slightest uptick of his mouth. Just enough for you to know that he’s still listening. But when is he not?

“Anyway. I just- it kills me that you think so lowly of yourself, and I need you to know that I care about you. A lot. And if it hasn’t been blatantly obvious by how I’ve kissed you”, he blushes and looks down at his feet as if he didn’t kiss you with just as much passion, “I like you beyond the point of being friends. And- I feel like you see me. Not just as an aviator, not just as a woman, but as a person. But that’s also scary in itself because you’ve seen my flaws, and each time you didn’t look away. You stayed. You stayed and made sure I didn’t stay down.”

“You didn’t need me for that”, he shakes his head. And you smile through your shaky breath. “You don’t stay down long.”

“Maybe not, but it’s easier to get up when someone lends you a hand.” He stills at your words and your mind tracks back to find the courage you came here with. It’s not hard when Bob’s standing right in front of you with Carole’s voice running through the back of your mind.

 “I’ve tried brushing these feelings off, and staying away from you, thinking I was doing what was best for the both of us. And… I don’t know about you, but it’s only been like two days without talking to you- and I miss being around you.” The tell you’re about to cry starts with your throat straining, and at this point you’re trying everything to talk through it. “I don’t want to mourn you while you’re still here-”, you choke out as you clench your jaw to stop your teeth from chattering any louder than they already are.

“Hey”, Bob whispers as he moves closer to you, “It’s ok-”

“I don’t want to lose you when I’ve never even had you”, you breathe a shaky breath as he places his hands on your shoulders, the warmth permeating through your jacket and towel.

“Whoa, where is all this coming from?” Your breathing is rapidly increasing, as he stares down into your eyes, concern painted through the way he looks at you. That and something else you’re too hyped up on adrenaline to identify at this moment. 

“It’s ok, just breathe for me. Can you do that?” You nod as you stare back at him, his hands reaching out to grasp your own, placing one on his chest. Just like he did in the locker room. God, it feels like it was ages ago.

“Jesus Christ, you’re freezing”, he mutters as he puts both of his hands atop your own. Your fingers thrum over the soft cotton of his shirt, and you’re almost certain his heart is beating just as fast as your own.

“Your heart’s beating really fast”, you comment as you watch your fingers underneath his.

“Are you sure that’s not your own?” You exhale a laugh, but continue to feel that familiar thump from his chest.

“No, that’s definitely you.”

“Yeah”, he manages a nervous smile, “That usually happens when I’m around you.” Your hand is slowly gaining feeling back under the protection of his own, and your eyes meet his. He whispers your name softly, and this time you don’t flinch. You don’t break away, you don’t blink. Your teeth are still chattering, the noise distracting him from whatever he was going to say.

“Let’s get you into some dry clothes, yeah?” Silently you nod as he gives you a brief smile. He’s seemingly already accustomed to the idea of you staying the night, something you didn’t think of before running out of your own house. Taking your hand in his own, he leads you to the bottom of his stairs before jogging up to what you presume to be his bedroom. You wait as you attempt to clench your jaw to stop chattering your teeth, but that’s when you spot a shiny black nose poking out from the corner of the living room. 

“Hey Syl”, you whisper while bending down. She retreats almost immediately at the sight of you, but reappears at the familiar voice. You realize you must look kind of scary with your jacket hood plastered to your face. In an attempt to get her to come closer, you peel your hood off of your head and tempt her again with your outreached hand. “It’s just me sweet girl”, you whisper as she moves forward to sniff your hand. Her tail starts a wag at the appearance of your face and you smile as she gets close enough for you to pet her head. 

You’re scratching her ears as Bob returns from upstairs, now carrying clothes for you to change into.

“Ok, I’ve got some sweat pants and a t-shirt”, he explains as he sorts through them, “But I do have a sweatshirt in case you’re still cold.” He shifts his attention back to you as you stand and accept the clothes with a quiet ‘thank you’. Without the hood obstructing his view of your entire face, his brow immediately furrows at the shadow just to the side of your eye. He doesn’t get a good look at it before you’re turning to change in the bathroom. He must be seeing things. A shadow from your hair, the dim lighting, it just can’t be what he thinks it is.

Peeling your wet clothes off your body was something you didn’t think about while sprinting full speed down Bob’s street. But here you are, in his downstairs bathroom, admiring the softness of both the shirt and sweatpants he’s offered you. You’re soaked right down to your underwear, and rather than sitting uncomfortably in a wet bra and underpants, you decide to go commando. If you get cold enough Bob did offer you a sweatshirt. Tossing your wet clothes over the shower curtain, you slowly walk out of the bathroom. It’s quiet. Other than the occasional rumble of thunder, or whip of wind and rain against the windows, the only thing you’re aware of is your own breathing. Until you get into the living room and find Bob picking at his thumbs on the couch. He doesn’t notice you, and for the first time tonight, you hesitate. You run your fingers over the bottom of Bob’s shirt, holding it out slightly in front of your body. Just admiring how quickly he offered his own clothes to you. Your hair is slightly damp, but not dripping like it was moments ago, thanks to the towel he gave you when you first came in.

He must hear you shift on your feet, because soon enough his eyes follow your form in his clothes, the pants tight in some places, loose in others, but the large t-shirt does its job. He stops on your face as you give him a nervous smile and make your way over to the other end of the couch.

“Oh my god, what happened?”, he all but rushes out as you sit. His eyes are frantic with worry as you trace his concerned gaze to your cheek.

“Oh that”, you try to laugh, “It was an accident.” He swallows while he stiffens in his seat. Bridging the gap you left between the two of you, he catches your gaze as you look down at his hand.

“Mantis”, his voice darkens, “I need you to be completely honest with me.” He’s staring so intently into your eyes you feel like you’re center stage in a show you weren’t given the lines to. A kind of intensity you’ve never seen directed toward you from the man. “Did somebody hurt you?” You’re stuck in your spot, and without hesitating you answer him.

“No”, you breathe as you softly shake your head, “Bob, I promise you it was a complete accident. I was playing catch and wasn’t paying attention.” He eyes it one more time, and you see his hand twitch in his lap before it slowly makes its way to cup your face, turning it to take a better look. You hold your breath at the movement, but once his thumb strokes lightly over your skin you melt into his warmth.

“Well whoever you were playing catch with knows how to throw a pretty wicked fastball”, he mutters as he takes in the bruising along with the indent of the stitching.

“Yeah”, you sigh, not able to say much as he holds the weight of your face and much more in his gentle hand. “Rooster was a pitcher on his high school team.”

“You were playing catch with Rooster?” You let out a breathy laugh, knowing how confusing this must be.

“It’s a long story”, you tell him. “I just wasn’t paying attention.”

“And he still threw it at you?”

“I try not to make sense of Rooster’s actions anymore.”

“Next time you wanna play catch, you come to me. Ok?” His eyes are still on the bruise, analyzing it from every angle.

“Are you saying you won’t throw the ball at my face?”

“No. I’ll make sure you’re ready first.” His smile fades the tiniest bit, but his hand has yet to move. It’s quiet again until a particularly loud burst of thunder has him dropping his hold on you.

“Um, let me get you some ice.”

“I’m fine. My face, feet, and hands are pretty much still numb.”

“May I?”, he asks, reaching for your hands. You’re facing him now, and he turns to mirror your own crossed legs as his hands clasp your own. Slowly, without looking back at you, he brings them closer to his face and before you have the good sense to realize what’s going on, his warm breath fans over your dead fingers. Something flips in your stomach as he starts rubbing his thumbs over the back of your palms after each slow and agonizing breath.

The contrast in temperature hurts your fingers down to the bone, but you can’t seem to take them away from Bob. He stops the breaths just for a second as he rubs your hands in contemplation.

“Mantis… Why are you here?” You’re almost certain your swallow is audible as you stare down at your joint hands. He doesn’t push you when you don’t immediately answer. He only continues to soothe your aching extremities. But when he starts breathing on them again and his glasses fog up slightly, that’s when you truly start to feel the discomfort seep from your fingers. And that’s when you know you have your answer for him. Because he will truly put your needs before his own. His clothes on your back, his sight for your warmth, his happiness for your own. But he doesn’t quite know the true extent of your own unhappiness without him in your every day.

Your answer sits on the tip of your tongue, but truly, your brain speaks before you can formulate the words you need him to hear.

“I went to therapy”, you blurt out as you stare at him. God, why can’t your mouth just say what it needs to? Why is this so hard? Bob looks at your face at your admission, blinking away his shock at the volume at which you spoke them.

“That’s- that’s great.” He goes back to rubbing your fingers, ruminating on your words, then stopping suddenly. “It wasn’t ‘cause of me, was it?”

“No!”, you’re quick to correct him. “Not at all.. I mean it wasn’t your fault, but I did talk about you a little bit”, you admit bashfully. He nods, seemingly drawing his own conclusions. “It wasn’t anything bad. Just-”. You’re hesitant to tell him about your dreams, about why your dad called him that day. Why you were so fidgety and couldn’t even look him in the eye. But then you look back at him, and you know everything will be ok. He won’t run, or look at you with pity. He might be concerned, sure, but he’ll still be there for you.

“After Nat’s party, I had a nightmare. I haven’t had one in years, and it kind of rattled me. And then I had another one. They usually happen after I feel like I’ve done something I shouldn’t have. Something that would- make my mother mad at me.” He stiffens at your words, brows drawing up once more. He knows. And you don’t want him to blame himself. “But yeah, I got back in touch with my therapist. Gonna make it a regular thing now… but after my session she asked me to list three people who make me feel wanted. And it was very clear to me you’re on that list. And I hope I make you feel important, too. I know I haven’t this past week- and I’m sorry-”

“Hey”, he tugs your hands toward him just enough to get your attention, “You had enough going on, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“But I do. I can’t help it.” He whispers your name and averts his gaze from your face like he can't even bear to look at you right now. You didn’t think this was news, last time you were here he told you essentially the same thing.

“What?”, you whisper back.

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

Bob did not imagine even in his wildest dreams you would run to him in the middle of a storm. But here you are, pouring your heart out to him, your hands in his, his old t-shirt draped over your shivering body, but there’s still that tiny part of his brain telling him it’s too good to be true. And in reality, it is. Because what is he supposed to do now? What did you hope to achieve by coming over here? Your feelings don’t change the fact that this is still wildly against rules in place.

It might have been easier for him to deal with it on his own not knowing exactly how you felt, but now? He can’t put you in a position for someone to take your dream away from you. Especially after how much you’ve had to sacrifice to get to where you are. And there’s still so much for you to do.

“What do you want me to do with these feelings?” He finally asks and you’re caught off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean- a few days ago when you came to me you were so sure this wasn’t a good idea. And now?” He searches your face for an answer in your silence. “What changed?”

“I found a letter from Carole. It was meant for 12-year-old me, " you can’t help but release a watery laugh, “but she just reminded me that some things are worth the risk.” You pause for a moment, squeezing his hands for reassurance before continuing.

“Our jobs are dangerous, and even if they weren’t, life is so precious. And I don’t want to continue breathing if I’m only half-living. I already did that, and I refuse to do it again. And I’m not asking you to do anything with what I’ve told you, I just had to let you know. And that might be selfish, but I know running from what I’m feeling isn’t fair. To you or me.”

It’s quiet again, you’re not sure if Bob is looking at you anymore, but your eyes are drawn back to his hands. One of the single greatest comforts you can’t help but indulge yourself in. A flash of lighting pierces the corner of your eye and the boom of thunder follows shortly after. It almost bleeds into the rasp in his voice as he speaks.

“Is it selfish if we both want it?”. Your eyes snap to meet his and you’re hit with that intensity again. It’s slightly masked by insecurity, but you can see how much this means to him. You’re so sure he can hear you release a sharp breath.

“What do you want-” Your thought is cut off by a deep rumble of thunder, almost shaking the structure of the house. You flinch as if the roof were about to collapse on the two of you, but you’re not catching a break as the remaining kitchen lights click off.

“Damn it”, he mutters under his breath. Bathing you and Bob in total darkness, you instinctively squeeze his hands and he squeezes right back.

“It’s ok”, his voice echoes as he tries to see anything around the darkened room. Sylvia whines from beneath her hiding spot as he blindly searches the coffee table for his phone, petting her in the process to calm her nerves. With his phone located, he turns the flashlight on and you wince at the harsh white light. Sylvia continues to whine even as she scurries out from under the table and runs up the stairs. He runs a hand through his hair as he stands and you’re left in his absence. Goosebumps crawling up your arms and legs force you to shiver and Bob sees it out of the corner of his eye.

“Here- you can take my bed. It’ll be way too cold down here.”

“Bob, no. I’ll crash on the couch”, his mouth opens to protest but you stop him before he even starts, “Plus, I think your daughter might need you up there.” He moves his hands to his hips, deliberating his choices until he eyes you.

“I mean- we could always, ya know…”

“What?”

“We could share my bed. It’s not like we haven’t already slept in the same bed together- Not that I’m assuming you want to! But it’ll keep you extra warm if we’re both there, and that way we’re in the same room and-” With a soft smile you cut off his rambling.

“I think that’s a great idea.” That crooked smile graces his face for the first time in what feels like forever, and your nerves are put at ease. You want to be the reason he smiles like that for as long as you’re able.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He silently leads you up the stairs and offers to let you use the bathroom first while he tries to tidy up the mess you hopefully didn’t see through the lens of your phone’s flashlight.

There’s not much, just a couple of dirty shirts he didn’t have the time or energy to throw into his laundry basket. And then there’s the laundry basket of clothes he was going to fold today, but got distracted at Rich and Harry’s. Shoving the basket in the corner of the room, his eyes catch on the rain-pattered window. Palm trees sway in the wind, and thanks to a flash of lightning, he watches the street run like a river. He squints, trying to find where you parked your car, hoping the damage won’t be too bad.

The click of the door opening has him turning to you, brows still furrowed.

“Hey, where’d you park your car?”

“Oh, that. Funny story”, you laugh, “It stopped running about a block that way-”, you point up the street, “And I kinda ran the rest of the way.” His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as you stand there chuckling.

“Mantis”, he sighs, “Why did you think any of this was a good idea?”

“I wasn’t really thinking, I just knew I had to talk to you”, you bashfully admit. A flash of lightning reflects in his glasses, and you’re brought back to your conversation downstairs. Your unfinished conversation. The hairs on your arms raise before Sylvia whines from underneath Bob’s bed.

The two of you glance back and spot her nose peeking out from under the frame. You’re on your knees, petting her head as Bob stands at the window.

“It’s ok sweet girl”, you coo. With the two of you distracted, he takes a minute to finish getting ready for bed. God, he just can’t believe you’re actually here. Granted, he wishes it was under better circumstances, but still. Stepping back into his bedroom, he’s pleased to find you already underneath the covers, your back facing him. His heart speeds up at you already so comfortable in his bed, but he gathers himself quickly before turning to close the door to the room. The bedroom the two of you are currently sharing… with his dog lying on his side of the bed.

“Before you say anything”, you rush out as you sit up, “She got up here all by herself, and I don’t have the heart to tell her to get down. So you’re just gonna have to look into those big brown eyes and be the bad guy here.” He bites down a smile as he pretends to deliberate on what he should do. Not giving in and telling you that she normally sleeps on the bed with him.

“Plus, I don’t think she’ll be as scared if she’s up here with us”, you add. With us. Yes, that word just came out of your mouth. And it might not be a big deal, but you just used that word and Bob is having a hard time not pinching himself to make sure this is all real and not another dream. Clearing his throat, he manages to cough out a “yeah”. Or something akin to agreement.

He starts to settle onto his side of the bed, and you scooch as far away from the middle as you can. Sylvia moves down the bed in between the two of you and you finally lie back on your respective pillows. You can hear his glasses hit his bedside table as his hand falls to Sylvia. There’s an unspoken tension in the room, and you’re not sure if you can wait until morning to break through it. But neither of you say anything. You just lie there like a lifeless body whose heart is also about to burst through her chest.

Another flash of lightning slices through the curtain, followed almost immediately by a horribly loud boom. Sylvia whines again and your hand falls to her. You knew his hand was there, but it doesn’t stop the shock at the feeling of your fingers brushing his. As your hand swoops over Sylvia’s fur he almost moves back as you stop. But that single touch in the dark makes you want more. So with a clear mission, you bring your hand back over her fur and start to slowly trace his knuckles and fingers. His hand turns over, inviting you to do the same to his palm before he halts your motions and instead intertwines your fingers. He’s still so much warmer than you are, and your hand melts in his. It makes you feel safe.

You don’t say anything as his thumb rubs your hand. The two of you lay in the backdrop of rain and thunder, staring at the ceiling as if it had some kind of hidden message you have to decode. Bob must find what his side says because he clears his throat before speaking.

“What you asked earlier, about what I want- I want you to be happy. Above anything else.” Your heart turns over as you face him.

“I want that for you, too… But you should know you make me really happy”, you whisper into the night. His hand flexes as his pillow rustles to your right.

“You mean that?”, his voice is clearer as he turns his head, and although you’re having a hard time seeing through the dark, you can imagine the look of fear and insecurity in his eyes.

“Of course I do.”

“Cause you make me happy, too”, he rasps, his voice somehow even deeper. And you just can’t help the way you move closer to him. Reaching with your free hand, you hold onto his bicep and rest your head on his shoulder. He welcomes it with a relaxed sigh as you get comfortable. Sylvia doesn’t seem to mind being squished in between your legs, and you’re happy for the warmth these two provide you.

There’s still a lot to talk about. A lot to figure out as to what happens next, but right now? You can’t seem to care what happens tomorrow because you’re content to hold onto Bob tonight. And as you feel him kiss the top of your head, you get that deep butterfly feeling in your stomach. The good kind this time. No overwhelming urge of anxiety or doom washes over you and you know everything is going to be ok. It has to be.

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

Hey Siri, play Fearless by Taylor Swift

Taglist:

@lemmons1998

@itsmytimetoodream

@theamuz

@harrysgothicbitch

@mygyn

@luckyladycreator2

@marve2014

@wretchedmo

@callsignwidow

@finnydraws

@melsunshine

@jostan456

@okiegirl24

@beebeechaos

@eclecticfashionbookszipper

@hunbomb

@nerdgirljen

@knight-of-the-doctor

@smoothdogsgirl

@planetaryempire-blog

@dumblani

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Ooooo I fucking love the Tokyo Revengers characters with a S/O who takes a knife for them. Can I ask the same for Kisaki, Hanma, and Taiju? :D

Yep, here are how these three would probably react to you taking a knife for them!

Kisaki

Freezes, staring at you with an unsure expression. He hasn't had a problem with people taking blows for him before but this feels different, you're different.

Snaps into action soon after though, immediately giving instructions to those around him. Telling some of his men to take care of the guy, another to call an ambulance and telling Hanma stand watch over you in case of another attack.

Isn't really sure what he's doing when he crouches next to you and tries to stop the bleeding from your wound. Reading about it and actually doing it are two very different things.

Spends a lot of time looking at your face for reactions, trying to figure out if he's hurting you or not.

Doesn't say anything in the ambulance but holds your hand the whole ride, occasionally encouragingly squeezing it.

While in the waiting room he sits staring at the clock while tapping his foot impatiently. Get's a bit irritated at the doctors and wants to know what's taking them so long.

Also sends Hanma away to go buy a bunch of flowers and other gifts

Practically runs to your room when he hears you're awake. Stops himself before entering though and walks in calmly. It's clear from the way he talks that he's worried but happy you're awake though.

Tells you to never get involved in a fight again, he can't bear to lose you.

He's about to say something else when Hanma enters with basically a whole giftshop and smothers the two of you into a "group hug"!

Hanma

"What the hell?" He's always seen fights as something fun, so why is this happening? His brain almost can't compute it at first.

Laughs such a loud but chilling laugh that it makes everyone around you both shudder. After he immediately punches the guy twice, making sure he won't get up anytime soon. His signature grin is missing as he hits him though.

"Hey, hey come on sweetheart open your eyes" he nudges you as he asks you to wake up for him.

Trusts himself to save you more then the ambulance so he doesn't hesitate to scoop you up and head towards the hospital as fast as he can.

Yells as loud as he can once he gets there, sounding uncharacteristically vulnerable as he pleads for help.

Doesn't actually stay in the waiting room but instead wanders around the hospital, it's his way to try and keep himself occupied instead of focusing on what could be happening to you.

He's in your room when you wake up despite not being called, he must've sneaken in.

Lightly jokes with you, asking you what took so long and if you had a long enough nap. Before burying you in a tight hug.

Taiju

One minute the guy was stabbing you and the next he was unconscious and bleeding profusely. No one had ever seen Taiju move that fast and swiftly before.

Taiju doesn't care about finishing the guy off, he can always track him down later. Instead he's focused completely on you.

Asks you to look at him, even calling you by his favourite pet name for you, something he hardly ever does in public.

Curses when you stay unconscious and when he sees just how much blood there is. Takes a moment to contemplate calling an ambulance or taking you himself. Eventually settles on taking you, nothing bad will happen to you while you're cradled in his arms, he swears it.

Talks to you the whole way, saying you better live and that you're not allowed to die and leave him.

When he gets there he yells at the hospital staff, demanding help for you. Which he very quickly gets.

Paces around the waiting room, trying to not get too worked up. Also calls his siblings to fill them in on what happened (he just wanted some reassurance from them that it'll be ok).

Nearly breaks the door to your room down when he hears you're awake. He's a bit too eager to see you.

Tells you that he doesn't need you to take knives for him, he can handle himself. "But you, you're too delicate for this. Don't you dare get hurt again, you're too important". He sounds a bit harsh as he says it but the words themselves are very sweet.

[rekino2114]

Playing with a ouija board with mikako kurokawa

Halloween post #6

Pairing:mikako kurokawa x gn reader

Summary:When you invited your friend/crush to play with a ouija board for Halloween, you never imagined it would lead to you confessing to each other

A/n:This is a good time to mention that in most mikako posts I'll do, I'll use her killing game personality even in non killing game aus like this one, even it doesn't make much sense I'm just more familiar with that version of her.

You were always one for spooky things, and it was probably because of this that you felt a special attraction and connection to the ultimate exorcist herself. You loved everything about mikako: her quiet voice, the long pauses she took in between words and her seemingly dead eyes accentuated by her permanent eye bags, you were crushing hard

Despite your feelings for her, you still managed to become pretty good friends, mostly because you loved hearing her talk about the stories behind her exorcism, and she was happy to have found someone who she could tell those stories to

Since Halloween was coming up and both of you were pretty excited about it, you decided to invite her to hang out, and you thought it'd be fun and on theme to play with a ouija board, mikako was literally the best exorcist in the country so you didn't even have to worry about being possessed or other stuff when she was around

"Is everything ready?"

".......yes"

Mikako finished lighting the purple candles she put around and turned towards you, giving you some beads similar to hers

".......take these......I had kinji bless them.....they'll protect you"

"Oh thanks"

"I......also have holy water.....and the crucifix on my uniform......just in case"

"Wow, you're really prepared for this. Is all of this really necessary?"

"Probably not.......but I just want......to make sure....I don't want anyone to get possessed with me around......especially you"

You blushed a bit but quickly brushed it off as mikako turned off the lights and sat near you

"Let's.....start"

"Ok"

You held your hands together near the planchette (I'm pretty sure that's what it's called ) which caused both of you to go red even if thankfully neither of you noticed it, and asked if there were any spirits which caused the wood piece to move towards the yes

"Oh looks like there is one, great we can start"

You started by asking the spirit basic questions like what its name was and how it died, and after it specified that it didn't have evil intentions, you started asking more personal questions

"Oh! Let's ask about crushes"

"....w-what.....why?"

You were very surprised to see mikako stutter and blush but didn't think too much about it

"I dunno, people in movies do it all the time, come on it'll be fun"

".....o-ok"

"Great, let's start with you"

".........."

"Oh spirit in this room, does mikako kurokawa, the girl standing near me, have a crush on someone?"

After you asked the question, the planchette started moving towards the yes once again

You were kinda disappointed and sad that she loved someone, and that meant you probably didn't have a chance, but you always thought that she was out of your league, so you were ready to accept it. You managed to hide your true emotions to not ruin the mood

"Oooooooh now I see why you were blushing"

".......i-I......."

"Don't worry, I won't tell whoever it is.....buuuut I will find out

"W-wait"

"Oh spirit! Who is the person that Mikako has a crush on?"

You saw the planchette move

"OK let's see........w-wait"

It started to spell every letter in your name, and when it finished, you turned to see the exorcist blushing incredibly hard hiding her face with her hands

"M-mikako, is that true?"

"......yes....I...I have had feelings for you......for a long time"

"R-really?"

"Yes.....Your conversations are always.....nice and you look......like an angel"

You blushed a lot more but smiled as you continued to hear her confession

".....Yamato actually told me.....to confess to you today......I didn't expect it to be like this, though."

"To be honest.....I love you too"

".....r-really?"

"Yes, I mean, you're so pretty and nice to talk to, I had feelings for you for a long time too"

You saw mikako's look of surprise morph into a slight smile, which was the most happiness you had ever seen out of her

".....so....do you mind......starting to date?"

"I'd love that"

You got closer to your new girlfriend and kissed her lips. Both you and her felt amazing and truly peaceful in this moment. You pulled away for a second to see that her smile widened even more

"I don't know.....if it's too early.....to say this.....but......I love you"

"Don't worry, I love you too mikako"

"That's.......thanks...thanks so much"

You just smiled at her again admiring her beauty

"Oh, I need to thank the spirit. It's thanks to them that I got a girlfriend"

"....yeah....I guess so......I should thank them too.....since I got such an amazing partner"

[oh-no-its-bird]

Ok so updated list of my WIPS;

Actually in progress;

- Offal and All (Kakashi's relationship with food throughout the years, mostly told through the eyes of others) I'm activley focusing on this one rn and hoping to post it like, this week actually. It's a mash up of a lot of different tiny Kakashi hc's I've posted about and should be very fun (and depressing, but that's kind of my brand, so.)

- One Step Three Steps chapter 10, it's going well so far actually I just keep writing it at work then being forced to stop bc like. Work. Might go up this week, hopefully

- Chasing Shadows chapter 4, it's like 20% done? Ish? I just need to find the head space to get back to writing it, will go up within the next 2 weeks for sure but idk when exactly. It'll be great tho ur gonna get Hikaku, Fugaku, Shisui, Mikoto, just all the cool Uchiha. Lots of politics, lots of drama, the works

- Itama and the secret senju weed empire fic,,,, it will be long and it will be beautiful which means it'll take me forever to do, sorry

- Magical Girl Izuna AU (my beloved) I got distracted by other projects midway through writing chapter 1 but I'll get there eventually

- Little lab mystery where kid edo-tensei reincarnations of Madara and Tobirama wake up with no memories and immediately stage a jail break

- Nin burger!!!!! Yes this is a real thing yes I meant to post it like the same week I started making it but then I got distracted and didn't. But I swear to fucking GOD I will see it complete. Nin Burger is my favorite real naruto restaurant that is real

- That one oneshot where Madara and Tobirama spend a festival night in the capital together as children, and Madara develops his very first crush on the fox masked boy, but seems to be doomed never to meet him again— till Konoha's first festival is held and he sees a man wearing the very same mask, waiting for him in the crowds. Might not actually finish this one tbh but also maybe I'll save it for tbmd week?? Idk

Considering / Planning;

- Hikaku as the Uchiha clan head after Madara's betrayal comic,,, not an actual fic but I wanna make this so bad. I've written notes for it I just need to get along to drawing it

- Izuna in Wonderland comic, honestly I'll probably end up doing the entire thing in one go one night when I get hit in the face w a brick w motivation. So it'll be a surprise for both u guys and me when I post that! I always do my comics in one go bc I physically can't bring myself to return to art projects if interrupted, which means I tend to do longer ones on my days off where I have literally nothing else to do or distract me, but I haven't had one of those in like. 2 months now. So. But I will soon!! Umm. Maybe.

- Here Before and After Me chapter 2, I'll probably make one eventually but who tf knows when. I have a very specific vision of Kakashi following Tobirama onto the battlefield and scaring the shit out of a very alarmed and confused Izuna

- Tobirama and Izuna's field trip through time and space, I don't think I want to commit to a full fic bc it'd be seriously long and I'm already commiting to Chasing Shadows and One Step Three Steps as my regular update long fics, then the MG Izuna au and Itama fic as my "write it all behind the scenes then post" long fics. One shots only for me, sorry. But I do wanna write a silly one shot of the boys crash landing face first into a konoha council meeting during their field trip

Dropped / Abandoned;

- That one mdtb space mermaid au, rip. Maybe I'll come back to u one day but for now I have a lot to focus on, sorry

- mdtb fish in a pond fic where Tobirama is half spirit and turns into a koifish that Tajima then brings home and tosses into the families koi pond

I think that's everything? I have a shit memory and do everything on my notes app then forget to categorize the notes half the time so I honestly wouldn't be surprised if I'd lost smthn else in my like billion different notes.

Those are the important ones tho, so, good enough!

[ohbo-ohno]

babygirl bo <3 I have some Qs to which I beg you provide some As (I need me some of that deep bo lore)

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh 

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

babygirl lumi i love you so much. you're welcome to any lore you want

🍄 does puppy play count as a hc? because i write ghost calling soap "pup" as a kink thing but i also very much so think he'd just Do that.

if that doesn't count, then i'll say that one hc i swear by is that ghost is a freak but soap is 10x freakier and he's into literally every conceivable abuse ghost tries to commit agaisnt him.

also i think soap is suuuper smart but in a really specific way - can't spell for shit, but that man can rattle off college level math like it's nothing

🥤 is SUCH a good ask because now i can rec my fav cod x readers <3 (i know it says fic or author singular but you're getting multiple fics in place of me trying to tag authors and inevitably forgetting someone)

cod fics (but not the people i usually link because this post is already too long):

Baby Blue by kechiwrites (ghost x reader)

Taste by Sweet Deciet (ghost x soap x reader)

The Hand That Feeds by anonymous (ghost x soap)

Hypnotized (Fuck It) by ANTchan (ghost x soap)

Where Moonlight Meets the Sea by MildLimerence (ghost x soap)

Not More Than Once by WhisperedWords12 (ghost x soap)

NOT cod fics, but one for a few fandoms i love:

Declensions by dustorange is THE dick grayson origin fic. if there's one fanfic i wish i had written, it would be this

the first step of kintsugi by thepolysyndetonaddictsupportgroup is a peter parker & frank castle fic and im not sure it'll ever be finished but it is just. god it is perfect and probably my favorite fic of all time

anything by cupcakemolotov is gonna hit like no other for klaus mikaelson/caroline forbes. i love her so so much like she is my IDOL

ALL MOUTH. by themilkteeth is like the epitome of what a good darklina fic is. it's soooooosososo good i want it injected into my veins

the Blood Apron series by sciencefictioness is a great overwatch fic, but you really don't need to know the characters to enjoy the story! another one that'll never get added to, but i love it a lot

🥐 i don't like the lotr movies but there's a moment in the first (?) one where aragorn (?) is singing to himself and frodo (?) asks "who is this lady you sing of?" and for some reason i literally cannot watch it without keeling over in laughter. it's so fucking stupid

🪲 ohhhh we have beef for this one. i hate you a teeny tiny bit for making me write (/j). added it below the cut!

ok quick edit here but. i thought that said 500 words so uh. sorry but there's 500 words here instead of 50 lmfao. im a fool!!!!!

ghost x soap (cw for (legal) age gap)

He takes another look at the kid, now that he’s not planning on throwing him off the property. He’s got a bit of bulk, probably just recently started working out, and there’s a cocky energy coming off of him. Ghost would bet this is far from the first time he’s robbed someone with this little ruse, probably thinks he’s the smartest burglar in town. Too bad he chose the wrong man to try and trick this time.

Ghost straightens from the doorway, rolling back his shoulders and standing tall. The kid isn’t short by any means, but compared to Simon he’s practically little. Odds are he’s still got some growing to do, but for now Simon gets to enjoy the way he can loom over the teenager.

“No one ever taught you to respect your elders, boy?”

Oh, the kid doesn’t like that one. If he were a dog, his hackles would be fully raised, but he’s left settling for curling his lip back in a snarl. “You think just cause you’re old I have to respect you?”

“I think you’ll respect me because you’re on my property. That and I don’t think you’ll like what happens if you keep the attitude up.”

The kid flushes, either from rage or the innuendo. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You think just because we’re out here alone you can say whatever you want to me?”

“Of course not. We’re out here all alone, which means I can do whatever I want to you. And I will, if you don’t get off my property.”

The kid looks him up and down, then visibly steels himself. Ghost bites back a smirk. He’s not used to being underestimated, but he finds he doesn’t mind when it means getting to see the kid play at being his equal.

“What do you think you’ll do if I don’t go?”

Oh, Ghost can’t wait to beat the attitude out of the little brat.

He doesn’t let the kid see how much the rudeness is getting to him, intentionally keeping his face flat and unimpressed. “What’s your name, kid?”

That permanent scowl doesn’t shift, even as a flash of confusion crosses his face. “...John.”

Ghost nods. “Alright, Johnny, if you don’t get off my property, I’ll take you over my knee and teach you what your daddy should’ve.”

It’s nearly impossible to keep from grinning when Johnny’s mouth pops open in surprise, the flush creeping further up his neck. “You- you’ll- who do you think- you can’t-”

Ghost reaches out like he might slap Johnny, instead snaps right in front of his nose, sharp and loud. “Spit it out, boy. I don’t feel like listening to a kid learn how to speak all night.”

Johnny’s letting himself get worked up, and not doing a good job of hiding it. His teeth grind and he shifts from foot to foot, like he’d like to try and attack Ghost. He’s apparently smart enough to know how idiotic that would be, and Simon finds he’s almost disappointed.

[hunxi-after-hours]

(paper anon) hunxi!! i know ur no longer active but it felt wrong to not give you this (probably final, since i dont wanna spam up your asks) update. first year of chinese finished!!! got the best % in my year for spoken chinese 🫡 written kicked my ass. next semester we have a class for reading literary texts and poems, i think you'd enjoy that haha. and also east asian general history!! all the fun stuff. its hard work but i love it. i hope you're also doing well and im sending you all the positive vibes :) <3

i know ur long non active on this hellsite (good for you!) but i just felt super nostalgic and wanted to send the ask anyway. im halfway done with my chinese degree and ive just finished translating an article about the statistics of tourism economy in china post modern reforms and its just. Huh. Huhhhh since when can i do that. (ive actually thought abt dropping out a lot.) i miss being as excited as i was in your ask box about studying this, but i think my love for chinese language is now a lot deeper, even without the pink glasses, now that i experienced first hand how fucking difficult studying it academically is. easier times dude. anw i hope ur well if u ever relog in and see this ^^^ (paper anon)

(checks time stamp, winces) ok so HOW WAS THE LITERARY TEXTS AND POEMS CLASS??? did the class skim through the literary tradition, or did you linger in any time period in particular? was it a Joy of Life episode 27 best hits of the chinese literary tradition kind of highlight reel? (ty for the excuse to rewatch this scene, I swear it gets funnier every time) and, most importantly — any favorites??

taking classes on chinese literature and poetry was honestly some of the most humbling and 劝退 uhhh disheartening classes to take... because then you really come face to face with the truly massive body of the tradition. what do you MEAN there are so many poets and they all reference each other. how am I supposed to catch up. how am I even supposed to summon the motivation to move forwards, knowing that I've 早就输在起跑线上

and like, I don't have a good answer — as someone who literally dropped out of the field upon graduation (I've flirted with the idea of going back to grad school but quite frankly I don't think it'd be worth it), I don't have any inspirational stories to tell about level-grinding my way up the Chinese tradition or overcoming academic hurdles to attain sagely academic enlightenment. I don't even know if such stories would be helpful, because each person's journey through the Chinese language learning experience/tradition is so unique and personal. all I can say is find that thing that you love, that spark that makes you come back for more, be it this one specific poet or this one archaeological collection, a particularly trashy webnovel or a niche music genre. find that something that sparks love for you, and hang onto it for dear life, because if that spark catches flame, it'll be the light that guides you toward the road that you're meant to walk

[silver138]

Perfectly Flawed - Chapter 7

word count - 2.4k warnings - cursing, discussion of poor self-esteem

Summary: Lina gets a pep talk from her roommate, a coffee for Spencer, and (unsuccessfully) a new nickname from Derek.

After a full night's rest, I woke up on Thursday in a good mood. As I get ready for work, I hear Val pound on the door. "What?!" I say from the shower.

She barrels in, and says, "Sorry Lina, I gotta go!"

I scoff and say, "Fine...just...don't take too long, 'kay?"

"Yeah, yeah..." she says dismissively.

"Hey, how'd you sleep by the way?" I ask her.

"Oh, I slept great last night." she says, and I can practically hear her smirking.

"What'd you do? Did you find out whose car that was going off?" I asked, rinsing my hair.

"Oh, yeah. Along with the rest of the street. I don't think we're gonna have to worry about that happening again anytime soon..." she answers, finishing up and washing her hands.

"OK, no, but seriously, what did you do, Val?!" I ask, leaning my head out to look at her.

Still smirking, she says, "Me? I did nothing. I was about to bitch out whoever had the car, but I figured he had more to worry about, what with it having been egged, and a note on the hood that said, 'If someone wanted your rust bucket, it would be gone. NO ONE WANTS IT.'"

I start snorting at that, and she joins in cackling. Stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around myself, I say, "Well, guess we don't have to worry about that alarm going off again..."

Noticing I'm alone and the door is left open, I stick my head out of the bathroom and yell, "Val, what the hell?!"

I hear her voice floating from the living room, saying, "What? You were getting out! Besides, it'll help get rid of the steam faster, so you can get all dolled up for your doctor friend."

Dammit, Val... Exiting the bathroom, I start picking out my clothes, and I tell her as nonchalantly as I can, "Oh, by the way, I got his number..." I hear a thump, and suddenly Val is next to me in my room, an ardent smile on her face.

"You're shittin' me," she says.

I shake my head and say, "Nope. Got it yesterday before we got on the Metro home."

Folding her arms and leaning against the door jamb, she asks, "So, didja text him yet?"

"Ah, no, not yet." I falter.

"So whatcha waiting for?" she continues, quirking an eyebrow at me.

"Well...I mean...I don't wanna...wake him...if he's not up yet..." I sputter out.

She hums and nods, then says, "So text him before you leave for work. You take the same train, right?" I nod, and she replies, "So, safe to say you'd be on a similar schedule?"

"I...yeah, probably?" I squeak.

She turns and walks closer, looking at the clothes I picked out.

"So, text him then. He'll be awake," she says.

Getting dressed, I say, "But...what...what do I say?!"

She scoffs and tells me, "Oh, come on, you're a smart woman, I'm sure you can think of something..." looking at me and wiggling her eyebrows.

Chewing my lip, I head into the bathroom to start on my hair. After gathering what I need, I turn around to see Val sitting on my bed, seemingly waiting for me to say something. "Shit, Val, am I being timed?" I spit out, pulling a smirk from her.

She feigns an innocent look and shakes her head. Sighing, I suggest, "I can see if he wants a coffee or something. Think that would work?"

"There're those brains kickin' into high gear!" she says cheerfully, bounding over to sit on the toilet while I do my hair and makeup.

I give her a sour look and start the hair dryer, earning another faux-innocent smile from her. As I work on my hair, she waits, looking at the various products I have gathered on the sink. Hair finally dry enough to run a straightener through, she asks, "How much shit do you need for your hair?"

I sigh carefully to keep from burning myself and say, "To have it the way I want it? A lot. There's stuff to tame the frizz, extra moisture because the heat can fry it, the serum to help it be straight, the spray to help keep it straight..."

"Doesn't it start to turn curly anyway by the end of the day? Why bother with all this shit to change it?" she says, setting a bottle back. Finishing with the straightener, I turn it off and unplug it, setting it aside to cool.

"Because I look better with straight hair," I say quietly, putting on eyeshadow.

"No, you think you look better with straight hair because that's what everyone else has. I've been telling you since, what, high school, that you shouldn't give a shit about what other people think?"

Steadying my hands, I put on my eyeliner. "That's easy for you to say, Vallie. You weren't the one who got picked on for being 'weird'." I say coolly.

She snorts and says, "No, but I do know that you aren't worthless, like those jackasses made you think."

"You should like yourself more. And that's all any more I'm gonna say about it because this is turning into a fuckin' after-school special. Embrace who you are, Lina!" she finishes with a bizarre wave of her hands. Closing up the eyeliner, I snort and look at her.

"I'll...I'll try, Vallie. Ooh, time?!" I say.

Looking at my phone, she says, "6:27. You still good? Know what you're gonna text, what was his name, oh, Spencer?"

Putting on mascara, I say through an open mouth, "Uh-huh. Gonna let him know I'm stopping to get coffee, would he like any."

Val gives a half-shrug and a head nod, saying, "Open-ended enough of a question. Yeah, that should work."

Finishing off with a tinted lip balm, I turn to her and ask, "How do I look?"

She gives me an 'ok' hand sign and says, "Not bad, not bad..."

Cleaning up my things from the counter, I say drily, "Gee, I don't know if I can handle such high praise, there, Val..."

Snorting, she swats me and says, "Alright, alright, get going. You've got to go to work."

I groan and walk out to get my shoes on. "Yeah...though it's not really that bad. Well, not yet, at least. I hope I can keep up when they get busy..." I say.

"Well, I guess you'll just have to see, huh?" Val says from the bathroom.

"Yeah, I guess so...hey, close the door, dammit!" I tell her playfully.

"Yeah, yeah. Have a good day at work, Lina," she says, then hearing the sound of her closing the door.

Smiling, I say to the door, "Thanks, Vallie. You too."

Putting on my coat, grabbing my purse, and shoving the last 2 books into it, I take a deep breath and pull my cell phone out. After a few minutes of walking and thinking, I type out a message to Spencer.

Hey, Doc. I'm stopping at Starbucks for some coffee, did you want any?

After reading and re-reading to be sure there are no typos, I then send it and start heading that way. I'm close enough that I can see the store when I feel my phone go off. I walk to the side and I check the message.

Good Morning, Lina. You don't have to get me coffee.

Frowning slightly, I quickly type back:

I know I don't have to, but I figured you might want some coffee that wasn't from work to start your day.

I debate on adding a winky face but decide against it. Don't know if he knows the meaning behind the emoticons, don't want him to think I'm making fun or anything... Going over it again, I then send it and continue walking towards Starbucks.

Walking inside and getting in line, I feel my phone go off again. Reading it, I can't help but smile this time.

Well, when you put it that way...I'll make sure to pay you back. I like my coffee pretty sweet, and I usually just get black coffee and add sugar to it. Thank you!

Snorting, I quickly send him another text.

Don't worry about paying me back. About how many sugar packs do you take in your coffee?

As the line moves forward, there's only one ahead of me when I feel my phone go off once again.

I don't usually measure, but I put a fair bit in, so maybe six?

Sending him a text letting him know what I'll get him, the barista asks me what I want. I tell him my order; one grande mocha, one venti black coffee. I give him my name, then stand to the side while they make the drinks.

Checking that I still have enough time to get to the metro, I tap my foot anxiously and take a deep breath, grabbing a handful of sugar packets and a stirrer. My name is called, and I rush to grab the drinks, saying a quick, "Thank you!" as I take off for the train.

Jogging to make it in time, I only stop when I make it to a bench, sitting down to catch my breath. About a minute later, the metro wheels up, stopping to let people on and off. I start searching for Spencer, finding him as I walk on.

I slide close to him, quietly saying, "Hey, Spencer. Good morning." He looks up, first at me and then at the coffee I hand him, slightly surprised.

He lets out an, "Oh, hang on..." and goes to reach into his satchel.

"Nope. Don't worry about it, Doc. Hopefully, I got you enough sugar." I say, carefully handing him the larger of the two cups, along with the handful of sugar packets and the stirrer.

"But..." he says, and I gently cut him off.

"I've seen how much coffee you drink at work, Spencer. Trust me, this one's for you." I say as he starts tapping the sugar into his coffee and stirring. As he slowly starts drinking it, I continue, "Though, it's probably a good idea if you eventually try to get more sleep. All that caffeine can't be good for you..." I tease slightly.

Flushing, he says, "Thank you. You didn't have to..."

I shrug and say, "Yeah, I know I didn't have to. It's just something I do for my friends." I take a drink of my coffee and smile at him. He smiles back shily, taking another drink.

"Alright! Are you ready for the last two books in this series til May?" I ask with a grin. He chuckles and nods, and I hand him the books, which he then puts in his satchel. As we sip our coffee and talk some more, I notice we're nearing our stop and signal that we want to exit.

"So, you're still in college, right?" Spencer asks me as we walk towards the work building.

"I...yeah, how'd you know?" I asked, slightly surprised.

He just gives me a tight grin and says, "Oh, I, uh, I overheard Garcia talking about it."

Raising my eyebrows and looking at him, I say, "Oh, yeah? What all did she say?"

He says, "Oh, I didn't hear much, other than you're in college working on your Ph. D. in psychology." I hum in acknowledgment.

"I'm actually just finishing up. I have my final exams the week after next. As long as I pass them, I'll be considered a graduate. I'll have to wait to get my physical diploma with everyone else, but for all intents and purposes, I'll be done." I tell him.

"Do you know what you'll do after that?" he asks.

I take a breath in and let it out, saying, "Honestly? Probably just work for a while, and get some experience working with people psychologically. I, um, already have a Ph. D. in Computer Science, that's how I was able to intern here."

"You already have a Ph. D.? How old are you, Lina?" he asks, as we enter the elevator.

"I'm 22...I'll be 23 in the summer, though. Hey, what about you, Doc? Aren't you, like, my age? I heard you have a bunch of degrees." I say.

"Oh, um, I'm-I'm 24, and I have Ph. D.s in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering, and B.A.s in Psychology and Sociology." he stammers.

Looking at him and raising my eyebrows, I reply jokingly, "Well, damn, now I know why you don't sleep..."

"I mean, that's not the only reason but..." he starts.

"I know, I'm joking, Spencer. Sorry. Just...wow, y'know? That's very, very impressive." I say quickly. The elevator doors open, and we walk onto our floor.

"You think so?" he asks sincerely, a small smile growing on his face.

I look at him incredulously and start to say, "Yes, Spencer, really. Hasn't anyone..." when our conversation is interrupted by Derek saying teasingly, "Oh, I see how it is. You make a Starbucks run without telling the rest of us."

Grinning, I tell him, "Well, I like to consider it consolation for enduring the hell that is public transportation. You wanna come ride the Metro with us, you can get Starbucks, too, Derek, how about that?"

Smiling and laughing as he walks over, he replies, "Ah, that's ok. I like my car too much for that, Cupcake." I stop and laugh, crinkling my nose and shaking my head.

"Not Cupcake either, gotcha," Derek says, as he turns to ask Spencer something.

"Oh, the Deleware one? Yeah, I'm almost done with mine...hey, Lina?" Spencer says, and I turn around when he calls my name.

"Yeah, Spence?" I ask, and he continues. "We, um, we still on for lunch today?"

Breaking out into a huge smile I say, "Yeah, still on for lunch. See you then, Doc."

As I turn back around and start to walk to Penelope's office, I hear Derek say, "'Doc', huh?"

"Shut up, Morgan..." I can hear Spencer grumble.

Previous chapter

Next chapter

Story Masterlist

[kringletheelf04]

Rescue mission

(Chapter 12 of two souls entwined in the North Pole)

Bernard had finally gotten some time to himself. Pouring himself a cup of bubbling green liquid, he sits at the workshops chemist room. Suddenly, curtis rushes in.

"We've got a problem. Santa was at the Miller's, but he's not responding!" Curtis cries.

"What?!" Bernard jumps out of his seat, nearly shattering his mug in the process.

His soulmate was in danger! He could sense it. What it was, he did not know, but he knew it was bad. Laura had to have something to do with this!

"Do you want us to deploy the e.l.f.s., sir?" Curtis asks, bouncing on his heels.

"Absolutely! I'm coming with them!" Bernard quickly threw on his long coat.

"But sir, you're needed here!" Curtis protests.

"My soulmate is out there! In trouble! As their mate I am required to risk anything and everything to keep them safe! Need I remind you, keeper of the handbook?!" Bernard fights back and Curtis throws his hands up in defense.

"I guess I could take over for you, while you're gone." Curtis suggests.

"As much as I don't want to do that, you'll have to." Bernard rushes off, leaving a concerned Curtis behind.

Rushing to the E.L.F.S department, Bernard curses himself. If only he had gone with,none of this would have happened. If only he didn't agreed to Charlie tagging along, even if he had some good ideas. It was way too risky for him to do. But he couldn't just say no to his soulmates brother.

Making his way to the department, he slams open the door. Several elves jump and one falls out of their seat.

"Santa and the spirit of Christmas are in danger!" Bernard tells them.

"On our way sir!" The head of the department, an elf named Kenny, declares as all of them put on their jet packs.

"I'm coming with you guys." Bernard states, stepping forward slightly.

"If you say so, sir!" Kenny agrees.

Joining hands, they all disappear into a cloud of glitter. They appear on top of Charlie's roof.

As this is happening, a rather different performance is being drawn out in the holding cell with you and Scott.

"Look, I know you're Scott Calvin. You know you're Scott Calvin and (y/n) Calvin. So let's make this simple.  I say, names. You say, Scott Calvin and (y/n) Calvin. " The police officer pressures.

"Name?" He asks Scott.

"Kriss Kringle." Scott says smugly.

"Name?" He turns to you. 

"Christmas cheer." You protest.

"Name." He forces.

"Spirit of Christmas past, present, and future." You push.

"Name?" He asks for a third time, getting frustrated.

"Holiday joy. Festive cheer. Holiday blessings. Yuletide spirit. Festive joy. Joyous Noel.  Christmas spirit." You rattle off, laughing.

"Okay, Calvins. Maybe a couple of hours in the tank will change your mind." The officer growls and stomps out of the room.

Scott turns to you.

"It'll be ok honey," He smiles sadly.

You nod and blink away stray tears.

Meanwhile Bernard and the E.L.F.S. are preparing to rescue Charlie. They land on Charlie's roof where he is sitting.

"Charlie!" Bernard says to catch his attention.

Charlie turns his head and his eyes light up. Rushing over to Bernard he hugs his leg.

"Oh Bernard! They detained (y/n) and dad! They don't believe he's Santa! They think he kidnapped me!" Charlie sobs.

"Don't worry sport. We're here to rescue them." Bernard pats Charlie's head.

"We can't. The police are watching this place." Charlie looks at him.

"Yeah, they probably are. But you see, we weren't figuring on walking out the front door. We find that we can get around a lot faster if we fly. Now... grab hold of my hand. And hold on tight." Bernard presents his hand and Charlie grabs it.

"And Charlie," Bernard starts.

"Yeah?" Charlie inquires.

"Don't ever try this without elf supervision." He finishes.

I'm a split second they are flying through the air. It takes little time to end up at the police station. Landing, they walk into the station.

"We're looking for Santa Claus." Bernard steps forward.

"Go home, kids. Visiting hours are over." The security guard scoffs.

"We're not kids, and we're not visiting." Bernard presses.

"We're here to bust out my dad." Charlie chimes in.

"You're the Calvin boy. Who-- Who are these other kids?" The security guard stutters.

"We're your worst nightmare. Elves with attitude." Kenny glares.

In a split second the guard is tied to his chair with tinsel, unable to move.

"Shouldn't have had that doughnut. Oh! Untie me! I mean it! Untie—" The guard starts but they walk away.

Finding the holding cell was easy, getting them out might be a bit of a challenge though. Fiddling in his bag, Bernard pulls out an exact copy of the room key.

"Charlie!" "Bernard!" Both you and your dad cry out.

Bernard rushes over to where you are handcuffed to the table and with one touch, the handcuffs break off of you both. Throwing yourself into his arms you sniffle.

"You're really here!" You cry.

"You think I'd let you stay here snowbird?" He caresses your face.

"Never!" You pull him into a quick kiss.

"How'd you distract the guard?" Scott asks.

"Tinsel. Not just for decoration." Kenny places his hands on his hips.

"We gotta get you back sport." You tell Charlie.

He pouts, but eventually nods his head. They all clasp hands and teleport out of the holding cell. Landing at Charlie's house, Charlie opens the door. The ELFS dissipate back to the North Pole leaving Charlie, Scott, and you standing there. You look around for Bernard, but he's nowhere to be found. Sighing you stints the house after Charlie and your dad.

"Mom! Neil! I'm home!" He calls out.

Laura runs in from around the corner and Neil is close behind her. She scoops Charlie into a tight hug.

"Oh! My boy, you're home!" She cries.

"I'm fine, Mom." He says.

"Oh, Charlie. I missed you, honey." She hugs him tighter.

"Mom, I'm fine. It's okay." He reassure her.

"We were so worried about you. Look at you." She gives him a look over.

"Mom, put me down. Stop kissing me!" He pouts.

"We don't have a lot of time Charlie." You say, tapping your imaginary watch.

"Did you leave the gifts I made under the tree?" Charlie asks you.

"You bet we did sport!" You ruffle his hair.

"We better go!" Charlie gets loose from Laura.

"No, Charlie. No, no, no." Your dad stops him.

"No! No, wait, Charlie." Laura calls after him.

"It's ok Laura," You say.

"Actually I- I think its a much better idea" Your dad starts.

"That you stay here with your mom and Neil." You finish.

"But dad, (y/n)!" Charlie pouts.

"No buts, Charlie" dad shushes him.

"We can't be selfish. We can't be with you all the time." You start.

"We're a family. You, me , your mom, your sibling, and Neil." Your dad says.

"And they need to be with you too." You kneel down to him.

"I'll miss you too much." He mopes.

"Come on, listen. There's-- There's a lot of kids out there. Okay? Millions of kids. And they're-- They all-- They all believe in us. They're countin' on us, Charlie. And I-I'm not gonna let them down. We got a lot of work to do." Your dad explains.

"So I can't be selfish either." Charlie says through tears.

"You gave us a wonderful gift, Charlie. Listen, a wonderful gift. You believed in us when nobody else did. You helped make us what we are. Selfish! You're the least selfish person I know." You say, smooshing Charlie into a hug from you and your dad.

"I love you Santa Claus and Christmas spirit!" Charlie sobs out.

"I love you son." Your dad validate his emotions.

"I love you Charlie!" You confirm.

Charlie sobs and your dad gently shushes him. You turn to Laura.

"Yea what do you think? Christmas Eve you spend with Charlie?" You suggest.

"Oh my god!" She says in a hushed whisper, covering her mouth with her hands.

"It's you! It really is you!you really are... Santa Claus and the spirit of Christmas!" She smiles.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Your dad asks rhetorically.

"Oh, my God." Neil sighs.

"And you though I'd never amount to anything." You joke.

Standing up, you both ready yourselves for delivering gifts.

"Wait, don't go yet. I have something for you." Laura says, quickly running out of the room

"Scott." Neil says plainly.

"Neil." He nods back.

Neil steps forward and his eye widen.

"Santa?" He asks, childlike wonder dripping off of his voice.

"It’s ok Neil." Your dad reassures.

Neil steps away, turning around and placing his hands on his head in disbelief. Laura comes walking in with a folder in her hand.

"Here. It's... well it's... it's my Christmas present for you. It's the custody papers." She says setting the folder in the roaring fireplace.

"And I want you two to see Charlie as often as you can." She says softly while picking up Charlie.

"You can count on it," You smile.

"Thanks Laura." Your dad beams.

"Merry Christmas." You grin.

[steam-beasts]

Thomas and the Magic Railroad

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

Chapter Three: Diesel 10's Plan

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

A/N: FINALLY! I finished chapter 3! Sorry about taking so long, motivation kept going in and out of me 😑. Also, a note about Billy, in this version he is played by Tom Jackson.

Splatter and Dodge make an appearance. Dodge has a stutter so it'll be easier to tell the dialogue apart.

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

The next day arrived on Sodor quite quickly. Most of the engines had gathered at Tidmouth Sheds to wish Sir Topham Hatt and his family a good holiday, and good luck to Edward

"See you lot in a few weeks!" Edward called out as he departed from the yard, pulling the private coach along. The engines whistled and wooshed happily to Edward and the couple until they were out of sight.

Once they were sure Edward definitely couldn't hear, Gordon let out a loud, pent-up groan of annoyance "Of course EDWARD of all engines was chosen" He commented with distaste. Thomas raised an eyebrow "What's that supposed to mean? Are you not happy for Edward, Gordon?"

"Well, Edward only got chosen because Sir Topham Hatt took pity on him, I bet..."

"Gordon. You better not start..." Duck warned, knowing exactly where this was going.

"...probably since he's so old" Gordon finished, rolling his eyes. Thomas gasped "That's not the reason, Gordon! Yes, Edward is up there in age, but that doesn't mean he's weak!" The E2 retorted, not pleased at all.

"Thomas. Edward was made in 1896, practically a CENTURY ago! He's an antique, and so slow at this point. Sir Topham Hatt obviously felt bad and chose him for it!" Gordon argued. Thomas gritted his teeth at that statement, Mr Conductor felt it was a good time to step in before things escalated.

"Now, now...let's break it up!" The conductor said, getting their attention. Once the two had their eyes on him, Mr Conductor cleared his throat "Ok...now, Gordon. At this point, I sometimes wonder...are you and Edward friends at all?"

Gordon widened his eyes as multiple others fell on him, making him stammer "Well I– of course we are..! It's just...I-I..." Gordon looked down in embarrassment, visibly sweating.

"Real friends don't say that. I know there's always going to be some sort of banter in a friend group, but what you say to and about Edward is just bullying, Gordon"

Thomas chuffed "Yeah! Edward's just as useful as all of us. Besides..." The E2 then grew a smug grin "...if Edward was as weak as you say, then how come he was able to push a big fat engine like you up your hill, hm?" He teased cheekily.

The other engines chortled at Thomas' response. Percy, who was beside him, snickered "Ohohoho...good one, Thomas!"

Gordon wheeshed "Oh that's rich coming from someone who fell down the mine!!"

"I didn't notice the danger sign!" Thomas spat. Gordon scoffed "Little engines are SO narrow minded!"

"No we're not!" Duck said defensively, Oliver and Percy agreed.

The arguing was ceased when an ear-piercing, and broken-sounding whistle ripped through the air, startling the engines. The noise caused a few to reverse out of surprise. The laughing and banter ceased due to this, and Gordon was now lightly jittering "W-w-w-what was that?!" He squeaked.

Mr Conductor laughed at their reactions, but raised a eyebrow at his whistle "Huh, that's the third time..." He muttered before regaining his composure and speaking up.

"Ahem! Sorry about that, gentlemen. My whistle is acting up today"

Percy chuckled nervously "I-It's ok, Mr Conductor. It was j-just unexpected...heh heh..."

The magic man gave Percy a gentle smile and looked up at Gordon with a sterner look "As for you, Gordon. If you and Henry were REALLY his friends, you wouldn't say such things..." Mr Conductor made sure to shoot a glare at Henry, he wasn't innocent in this either "...Sir Topham Hatt told me himself how many times he's tried stopping you. To think, after everything Edward's done for you two..." He shook his head. Henry frowned and gulped now feeling eyes on him as well as Gordon.

The Stanier engine never expected to be dragged into this intervention, but he supposed it was deserved and remained silent.

"Mr Conductor is right, Gordon" Toby chimed in, the others murmered in agreement. Gordon huffed and reversed into his berth in a defeated and ashamed mood. Henry felt his boiler tighten and looked down at his buffers in shame and guilt. A few moments after the quick intervention, everyone had settled. He was handed a schedule board to list everybody's jobs for the day.

"Okay, now that we're all calm and collected...James, you're to pull a freight train of fresh hay bales to Farmer McCole's..." James groaned in annoyance. Great, another goods train. Just what he needed.

Mr Conductor looked over to Gordon "Gordon...the Afternoon Express as usual. Off you pop!" He said. Gordon smiled with pride and tooted his whistle before steaming on to the turntable. A good way to get his mind off getting confronted.

Mr Conductor went on down the list, assigning the engines one by one, who all gladly obliged. It was until he got to Thomas, his chipperness disappeared.

"..And last but not least, Thomas..." As Mr Conductor read the assignment, his smile dissolved into a frown "...oh dear"

Thomas perked up inquisitively at the man's sudden drop in tone "Mr Conductor, what's wrong?" He asked. Mr Conductor looked up at Thomas with a nervous glint in his eyes. The assignment itself was quite upsetting to say the least.

"Well Thomas, it says here you're to take flatbeds of scrapped engines to the Smelter's yard...it's been left for you at the Knapford yard" He said , wincing a little. The other engines gasped and muttered at the mere mention of scrap. An slightly appalled look was splashed on Thomas's face "S-Scrapped engines...?"

Mr Conductor nodded sadly. Thomas sighed, he always pulled scrapped engine beds at least once or twice, but even if it was something he should be getting used to by now, it was still unsettling to do such a task. It was like a human pulling a cart with a few dead carcasses in it to a grave site. Even if they never knew who the carcasses were, the urge to mourn was strong.

"Ok, sir...I will, sir" He said solemnly.

"Alright then..." Mr Conductor then put away the board. He looked towards the other engines and tried looking more bright for them "Well, what are you lot waiting for? Get those pistons pumping!" The tank and tender engines all tooted before all reluctantly setting off.

After most of the engines had left, it was just Thomas, Toby and Mr Conductor left. Mr Conductor's eyes flicked over to the E2's cab, and he couldn't help but notice something odd. He then glanced at Toby's cab entrance and saw his crew standing and waiting. Thomas's crew were still not here.

"Thomas. Where are your driver and fireman?" He asked, hands on hips and looking around the yard.

"They're taking the day off again, Mr Conductor. Its never been the same since Bob and William retired...my new crew are nothing but lazy and slack!" Thomas wheeshed sadly, though his face looked mildly annoyed.

"Oh for goodness sakes! Again?!"

"I can't do my job if they're not operating me, Mr.C"

Mr Conductor tsked, shaking his head in disapproval "How disappointing! I shall have a word with those two! That is what I'll do!" He said, wagging a finger. Thomas snickered at the rhyme.

Mr Conductor then walked over to the E2's cab and climbed up "Well, don't you worry, Thomas. I won't let you become a sitting duck, I'll just have to operate you myself!"

Thomas brightened up happily "Oh thank you, Mr Conductor!" He whistled as the magic man took the shovel and tossed coal into Thomas's firebox. The tank engine whistled merrily and proceeded to leave Tidmouth. Mr Conductor smiled and looked out the cab window.

"It is another beautiful day on the Island of Sodor..."

____________________________________________

Along the rails of the Indian Valley Railroad, the rails glimmered in the summer light. The birds tweeted their beautiful songs of nature. That was the moment when the tracks began to rumble and rattle, and out from around the corner came a Union Pacific FEF puffing down the tracks.

This majestic tender engine was nicknamed "The Rainbow Sun". A locomotive that has been on the Indian Valley Railroad for a long while now. Her driver was a man in his early 40s. He was of Native American descent and was proud of it too. This man was of course, Billy Twofeathers – the railroad technician of the railway.

Billy was leaning out of his train's cab and gazing out at the lovely land of the Indian Valley with an appreciative smile on his face. It was an admirable sight, so it was. Nearly "magical" as some would say. Billy was then thrown out of focus by a clanging noise coming from the Rainbow Sun's undercarriage. Billy raised an eyebrow before noticing excessive amounts of steam clouds gushing out of his engine's pistons and out from between the wheels.

Within every single bit of handyman knowledge he knew, this wasn't supposed to happen.

"Hm, something must be loose. Don't worry, ol' girl. I'll give you a look over once we reach the station" He muttered, giving the Pacific's boiler a pat. But before he could do anything further, he heard a loud revving of a motorcycle nearby. He snapped his gaze to the footpath beside the rails.

He could very clearly see the silhouette of a man riding on a motorcycle. Because of the steam, the features of the man were obscured but Billy could tell the biker was staring at him. The distance between the Rainbow Sun and the biker was a little worrying to Billy, there was a possibility for an accident!

"HEY! Get away from the rails, you'll get hurt!" Billy yelled over the loud pumping and clanking noises coming from his engine. The stranger didn't seen fazed, or even care for that matter. Instead, he grabbed something out of the crate, and that's when Billy's face drained a little – it was a gun.

Billy ducked behind the door of the cab and winced as he heard two shots go off, both bullets hitting the door. Once the engineer found the slim opportunity, he quickly looked out to see the damage.

There were a couple tiny dents in the cab door, but since it was likely a handgun, the damage wasn't severe. Billy could fix it in a few—

BANG!!

"AGH!!" Billy screamed as a burning, agonising pain erupted in his arm. He looked down to see a fresh bullet wound, open and bleeding profusely on his forearm. Billy hissed in pain and glared daggers at the man, all the while mentally scolding his stupidity for revealing himself.

He could just about tell that the man was smirking from within the steam camouflage and spun the weapon around his finger before blowing smoke off the muzzle.

The engineer ducked back behind the door as another bang ripped through the air, gritting his teeth at the painful burn of his wound. His eyes darted around frantically until he spotted a thick clothe – that'll surely slow the bleeding until he reaches the station!

Billy grabbed the cloth and began frantically wrapping it around the injured area, wincing again at the pain. He managed to tie a rough knot around it before hearing a thud outside. He snapped his gaze to the cab entrance and felt a light pang of fear shoot through him as the man had jumped and was now clinging on to the handrails, pulling himself towards the cab door. He stepped into the cab and loomed over him, fists clenching.

The stranger was fairly tall with a slightly wide build. He towered over the handyman with a threatening posture and a toothy grin. He wore a biker helmet with yellow-lensed goggles, as for his clothes, the hijacker wore a forest green turtleneck, a trenchcoat, a practical weapon belt and combat boots. Just from looking at him, something about this guy was familiar to Billy.

Billy shook away the thought and slowly stood up, staring into this strangely familiar man's eyes with a threatening glint, said stranger stared back. Both found themselves in a stand off. In the corner of his eye, his shotgun rested against the wall. Billy knew if he was quick enough, he'd be able to put himself out of harm's way.

In one swift movement, Billy punched the man in the jaw when he least expected it. While the hijacker was momentarily stunned, the engineer snatched his gun and quickly loaded it. Thank god he had a bullet pack in his pocket...just for necessary occasions. Once the man was refocusing, he was face to face with a shotgun pressed against his forehead.

The strange man glared at the shotgun and back at its handler with malice. His lips curled into a snarl as Billy's eyes squinted, his expression was grim. Both men were in a tight situation and were both on nerve. Either could die in a situation like this, but from the way it looked, the unwelcome newcomer was running face-first into death himself before Billy could.

He still said nothing and stared deeply into the other's eyes. Billy did the same, keeping his grim expression printed on his face.

"Well, it only takes one bullet. What'll it be?" He asked with a slightly grave tone to his voice. Sweat beaded from their foreheads, their hands clammy, their movements as still as a rock. All it took was one move and one loud bang. But who would seal the deal? Suddenly, the biker shoved the shotgun away from his face in a lightning-fast movement, catching Billy off guard and by surprise. Before the engineer could even do anything else, the intruder kicked him hard in the shin.

Billy yelled and fell back on the floor, gun still in hand. The man above him pounced and forced him to stay on the ground, holding his wrists together with one hand. Billy grunted and tried pushing him off, only to be stopped by being repeatedly striked in the face with a gloved fist.

Punch after punch, the hijacker kept going and displayed no signs of stopping, much to Billy's dismay. Billy himself hissed, groaned and grunted with each blow to his head. From the feel of it, the hijacker must be wearing a brass knuckle under the glove, as his punches felt a lot harder and more painful than normal punches, which still hurt of course, but not this much. Out of the corner of the engineer's eye, his shotgun still remained in hand. Through squinting, watery eyes, he could see his attacker paying no attention to the weapon, and an idea bubbled up in his head.

Billy seized the chance, gathering all the strength that he could muster, he pulled his legs up to his own chest and performed a ground kick. His attacker let out an audible "oof" as some wind was knocked out of him and he toppled back. Billy grunted, spitting out the bitter taste of copper in his mouth as he stood up with a wobble, glaring down at the man on the ground who was also struggling to his feet.

His face ached and buzzed with pain, but wasn't as bad as the bullet wound.

As soon as the stranger fully stood, Billy tightened the grip on his shotgun and pulled it behind his shoulder before roughly slamming it against the exposed part of his head.

CRACK!!

The hard metal made contact with the other's forehead and a concerning crack was heard. The hijacker growled in pain, stumbling back. One of the lenses of his goggles was cracked and shattered, revealing his eye. Billy groaned quietly, gritting his teeth as he got up. His arm hurt like hell. The man across from him had his gloved hand hovering over where he was hit, a dark bruise already forming. Billy panted, feeling a little dizzy from the barrage of punches but kept a firm hold of his shotgun.

The man's face turned into an angered scowl and he then charged towards Billy, who struck him again with the gun. Then again, then again, then again...

The hijacker stumbled back towards the open cab door in a daze, his back hitting the cold rushing air of the passing country. He looked behind him, a sense of fear lingering within him as he knew he'd get badly hurt if he fell, but did he have a choice? He snapped his gaze back to Billy, who was seething with frustration and desperation.

Billy knew what he had to do, but he knew it wouldn't be pretty. The engineer repositioned his weapon into its proper position and pointed it at the man.

"I'm gonna give you one last chance, get off my train or get shot. I would prefer option one and so should you" He threatened the intruder. The intruder in question narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists. He glanced between the passing ground below and Billy before letting out a disgruntled sigh.

He stepped backwards on to the footplate of the train and gave Billy a snarky goodbye wave "Donadagohvi, braid boy!" He jeered. Suddenly, the intruder jumped backwards, much to Billy's surprise. The racial mockery would've only bothered him a little if the man didn't jump. He could've waited for the Rainbow Sun to stop, but that was how it was gonna be, huh?

Quickly, Billy went over to the open cab door and peered at where the guy jumped off. To his confusion, the man was gone. No body, no one. Just himself and the engine. Despite this, Billy could rest easy knowing that the attacker was gone...for now.

Billy sighed in relief and with a trembling hand, rested his shotgun against the wall. The bullet wound in his arm burned, he was incredibly lucky to survive it, but he knew he had to get it tended to very soon. Other than the life-threatening injury, he thought back to the familiar man. Billy just couldn't shake off the feeling that he's seen that guy before...and his voice, yeah...he's definitely heard that voice from somewhere in the past.

Much to the handyman's luck, the Rainbow Sun had finally rolled into the town of Shining Time, so he can forget about that guy for now. The town was filled to the brim with pastel coloured buildings, gardens, clover filled fields, play parks where children thrived. It was all slathered in the sun's warm embrace, there was something magical about the place, he had a feeling.

Even despite his condition, he still pulled the whistle for the children who cheered joyously as they watched the gleaming iron horse pass through. Thank god they couldn't see in the cab from where they were.

As the Rainbow Sun finally pulled into Shining Time Station, Billy looked out the cab for anyone waiting at the platform.

Once he knew the coast was clear, he went back and pulled on the brakes, avoiding using his injured arm. " Hope no one sees me like this right now..." he internally prayed.

"Good morning, Mr Twofeathers!" A new, young voice suddenly called out. Billy felt his hope deflate and slumped his shoulders, he peeked through the window and saw a young boy riding a white stallion. His hair was blonde and scruffy, he wore an open blue flannel shirt, with a vest beneath it. He had ripped trousers and black boots.

This was Patch, a boy who had moved into town from the countryside a few months ago. He often helped out around town to earn some pocket money. He was currently Billy's helper. Bounding behind the horse was his dog, Mutt.

"Good morning, Patch!" Billy called back with a strained smile. He really didn't want to see Patch at the moment, but the universe seems to have other plans "Sorry, can't talk right now. I uh...gotta get inside" as he slowly climbed out of the Rainbow Sun, Patch stopped his horse and watched Billy get out. When the handyman turned around, the farm boy almost instantly noticed the injuries he had sustained.

"Mr Twofeathers, you're hurt!!" Patch exclaimed, hopping off his horse and jogging over to him "and your face is bleeding!" Billy furrowed his brows in confusion and wiped his chin, feeling something wet. Turns out it really was blood.

"Oh dear, I...I suppose I didn't notice" He replied, feeling a bit more lightheaded – supposedly the loss of blood was now getting to him. He never even felt it on his face, so that was why he tasted copper. Patch got a closer look at his wounds – Billy had a nasty wound on his arm that bled horribly, his face looked battered and bruised, plus, his nose was bleeding terribly – It was an awful sight for sure!

Patch's worried face only grew as he saw the blood-soaked cloth "Did...did something happen?" Patch's dog, Mutt came up behind him and whimpered with worry for Billy.

"It's ok, Patch. I-...I accidentally fell out of the Rainbow Sun while refilling on water. This'll all heal in a few...a few weeks" He lied as he placed a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. It wasn't the best lie, but he didn't want to tell him the truth. Patch skeptically stared at Billy for a brief moment, making the older man nervous.

"There's uh– there's a first aid kit in the workshop. I'll get patched up from there"

"Well, come on! We gotta get you inside!" The country boy insisted, gently pushing the engineer into the station. Billy kept protesting, saying that he was fine when really, he wasn't. He felt a bit dizzy.

Schemer was at the mini arcade, counting all the nickels he had managed to recieve. Once he saw Billy and Patch come in, he was immediately put off.

"WOOOAAAH, woah, woooaah!!" He exclaimed, immediately trudging towards Billy. He looked the man up and down, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the bloodied clothes.

"And just WHAT do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going with young Patch here to fetch something from the workshop, Schemer. Is there a problem?" Billy asked. Schemer threw his head back and scoffed "PAH! You're darn right there's a problem, Mr Twofeathers! No one wants to see..." Schemer then dramatically pointed at hisentire appearance "...a disheveled hippie who looks like he got ran over by a train! It's bad for business!"

Patch rolled his eyes. He had visited the station long enough to get to know Schemer, and BOY did he regret it "Oh give it a break, Stinker! Can't you see he's injured?!" Patch spat.

Schemer gasped dramatically at the insult, a hand to his chest. He narrowed his eyes and bent down to get eye-leveled with Patch "Why you little..."

"Oh Billy! You're back!" Said a new voice. It was Stacy, who had just walked in through the front door. Once she had a good look, her face paled with horror.

She instantly zoomed over to Billy, fretting over his condition "O-Oh good heavens, Billy. What happened?! You're bleeding!" She yelped, delicately peeling at the rag to see the bullet wound.

Billy sighed, pushing her hand away "I'm fine, Stacy. Yes, I'm hurt but I'll survive. I just fell from the train" He lied again. Stacy didn't believe him, she knew beatings and bullet wounds when she saw it.

She shook her head "No you didn't! This is a bullet wound, I-I know by the blood and – and the big gash! Tell me the truth!" She said sternly. She didn't like being lied to, especially when it comes to someone she cared about hiding their pain!

Billy looked at Patch, who looked up at him with eyes that pleaded for the truth. Mutt did the same, except of course, in dog form. Schemer was skeptical. He had to tell the truth, didn't he? Oh dear...

"I-...I had managed to stop a hijacking this morning and got in a scrap fight with the attacker. He shot me in the arm and beat me up. Luckily, I managed to shake him off. There, that's what happened" He said, looking away with a guilty face. Schemer was honestly blown away, he had no words or snarky comments, none! Patch was surprised by this reveal, but sympathised for Billy, as well as Mutt who whined and hung his head low. Stacy gasped like a scandalised housewife, her eyes nearly popping out of her head.

"A HIJACKING?! Oh dear, oh dear! Sh-Shining Time Station hasn't had a train robbery in...well, YEARS!! Did he steal anything?" Stacy stammered, gently grabbing Billy's hand and squeezing it. Said man shook his head "No, don't worry. I fought him off before he could...though, I don't know what he was after. He was trying to knock me out!"

The three listeners were flabbergasted at this news. Patch tilted his head, humming thoughtfully "Huh...well, what if he was after the Rainbow Sun ?" He suggested, earning a puzzled head-tilt by Mutt, and an eye roll from Schemer "Poppycock! Who would want a train?"

Patch shrugged "Well, maybe to scrap it? My mom told me how desperate scrappers are to get their hands on steam trains here in the Indian Valley. Perhaps that guy was one of them?" He theorised.

"Aghh...i-i don't know..ngh!..Patch, but if I had to assume with how he greeted me, then that's possibly the case" Billy hissed, clutching his arm. His brain was finally registering the wound and it stung so badly. Stacy huffed and guided him to the outside benches.

"That's it, Billy. I'm taking you to the local hospital" She said sternly. Said man remained silent and went along with her. Conveniently, there was a hospital a couple blocks down.

Patch watched them leave and shook his head "Poor Billy. Who would do this to him, Mutt?" He asked his dog. Even though Mutt couldn't fully understand what he said, he sensed his feelings and whined. Schemer watched as the two disappeared out of the station. He said nothing.

The entrepreneur glanced between the entrance and the arcade, knowing it probably wasn't a good idea to say anything snarky. Meekly, he walked back to the arcade.

The station was still, the station was silent, the station was worried.

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

Back at Sodor, Thomas pulled into the Smelter's yard with the flatbeds. Mr Conductor meanwhile kept an eye around the engine, in case trouble popped out. It was that strange hunch that ate at him again.

Thomas looked around the yard, seeing scattered wheels, rusty side rods, detached buffer beams...and many engine carcasses, all of which were devoid of a face. The little tank engine shivered at the sight, not liking it one bit.

Mr Conductor gave him a reassuring pat on the cab "Cheer up, Thomas. We'll make this job quick" He said before hopping out and trekking to uncouple the flatbeds.

It felt longer to Thomas, as in that time, he began hearing ominous noises coming from all around him.

First, he heard metal, creaking eerily and loudly.

Second, he heard rattling noises from the left and the right, accompanied by what Thomas could describe as low growling of an engine. Like a diesel...was it Arry and Bert up to their old tricks?

Third of all and last of all, he heard low cackling and snickering from ahead. It came from deep in the smelting shed – the LAST place Thomas wanted to hear such noises.

The inside of the shed glowed an ominous red, and steam was leaking everywhere in it. Some of the steam had even seeped out into the yard itself, making things even more nerve-wracking for Thomas that it made his wheels wobble.

"All done, Thomas!"

"WHA!!" Thomas yelped in fear, only to see it was Mr Conductor who stared back with a confused look "Are...you alright?"

Thomas sighed in relief "Oh! It's just you, Mr C. Sorry, this place just gives me wobbly wheels! Now, can we PLEASE leave? ...I don't like it here" He whimpered. Mr Conductor smiled lightly and put a hand on the engine's buffer.

"Its ok Thomas, we can go now"

"Oh, you're leavin' already? But ya just got here!" Echoed a new voice, startling both of them. They looked towards the smelting shed, where in the darkness rested a pair of eyes with a devious and malicious glint.

"W-Who's there?!" Thomas asked, jittering nervously.

The voice chuckled rather darkly "Well, why do ya come closer for a better look? It's hard to see a thing in this stupid steam!" it beckoned. Thomas was hesitant, even more so was Mr Conductor. That's when Mr Conductor quickly caught on to the silhouette of a claw attached to the engine's roof.

His eyes widened in realisation, he knew that claw from anywhere! He was no fool.

Mr Conductor bolted to Thomas's cab and climbed on the footplate before shooting a glare back at the shed "You can't fool us, Diesel 10!"

The diesel warship clicked his tongue in annoyance as he suddenly oiled out of the shed, revealing himself to Thomas.

"Aw well, it was worth a shot. Nothing gets by you, does it, Twinkletoes?" He sneered, rolling towards the E2 with malicious intent. "That's right. Besides, YOU'RE the only one here with that bothersome claw on your roof!" Mr Conductor spat, pointing at the hydraulic claw.

D10 gasped dramatically, offended "Bold of you to insult Pinchy right in front of me, Twinkletoes..." he said through gritted teeth. "Pinchy", the claw snapped eagerly at the two. Thomas wobbled with worry, but managed to pluck up some courage "W-What do you want, Diesel 10?!"

D10 hummed sarcastically in thought "Good question, puffball. What DO I want...?" He asked himself.

D10's face then perked up "Oh that's right! I'm here to turn you steamies to scrap!" He grinned evily, edging closer. Thomas gasped, reversing back. Mr Conductor spoke up again

"Not so fast, Diesel! There's nothing you can do to these engines while I'M around!" Mr Conductor wanted to give some reassurance to Thomas. D10 groaned and rolled his eyes "Always sidin' with the tin kettles... TYPICAL!!"

Suddenly, Pinchy extended forward, clamping on to Thomas's funnel. Said engine yelped like a kicked puppy, wincing at the pain.

"Well, that'll ALL change when I find the Lost Engine! Once I finish her off, no steam engine will ever see the light of day again! HAHAHA—OW!!" D10 was cut off by having a piece of coal thrown at his forehead by none other than Mr Conductor, who was holding a clutch of coal rocks

"Not a chance!" Mr Conductor retorted. He threw rock after rock at D10 until his claw finally let go of Thomas's funnel. At that moment, the magic man shouted "Go, Thomas, go!" and Thomas did as told.

He quickly reversed on to the other tracks, narrowly avoiding the flatbed and sped backwards, exiting the scrapyard. D10 shook out of his daze and chased after them, feeling pretty pissed off.

"Why I 'oughta...GET BACK HERE!!" He roared, following them out of the Smelter's yard and down the Kildane branchline. Thomas had to make a careful turn at the junction, and it wasn't long before the steamie and diesel warship passed through the town of Cronk.

D10 honked his horn as he chased the E2, giving the locals a fright. After exiting Cronk, they passed Maron, the West of Maron and soon, the chase began to take a turn into Wellsworth, where BoCo was busy shunting trucks. He stopped when he saw something blue in the distance. At first, he thought it was Edward.

"Edward...?" He asked in confusion, squinting. The blue blur soon got closer and more detailed, BoCo then realised it was Thomas "Thomas?!"

Thomas zoomed past, terror struck on his face "HORRORS! BOCO!! HEEEELLLP!!" He yelled. BoCo soon saw why as Diesel 10 was following him.

"D10!! LEAVE THAT LITTLE ENGINE ALONE!!" BoCo shouted angrily. Sadly, there was only so much he could do. He prayed that D10 wouldn't hurt him.

"Careful Thomas, we're heading towards the Mainline" Mr Conductor warned "I'll tell you where to go"

"Okay!" Thomas replied fearfully. D10 was amazingly still pursuing him, snapping Pinchy angrily. The conductor kept an eye behind the E2, glancing now and again at D10. Thankfully, Gordon hadn't shown up once as they were chased down the line, though, Duck and the twins were seen, but they were on different lines.

Soon, Thomas panted as he finally reversed towards Tidmouth, his axles ached and his firebox fizzled. D10 seemed far behind, but suffice to say, he could relax for a little.

James was at the sheds, having finished his goods delivery but he couldn't rest due to a pesky fly buzzing in his face. He knew it wasn't a bee, but any flying insects got him paranoid.

"Oh shoo, fly! Shoo!" He growled, trying to blow at the pest. Just then, he noticed Thomas reverse towards Tidmouth sheds. But instead of reversing on to the turntable, the tank engine missed it and ended up bumping into a pair of buffer stops, just a berth away from James.

"Oof! Botheration!" Thomas exclaimed, feeling dizzy. James tutted "Looks like you weren't concentrating, Thomas!" He half-teased, still being bothered by the fly. Thomas rolled his eyes "It's not that I wasn't concentrating, James! I was being chased so I couldn't focus!"

James quirked an eyebrow "By whom?"

"Diesel 10! 10 out of 10 for devious deeds and brutal strength...a blast from the past" He replied ominously. The red engine jolted at the name, his eyes wide "What?! Really...?"

"Yes, I had a close shave with him and he chased me down the mainline!"

"Hmph, that big bully! Why must stinky diesels like him be on our railway? He's nothing but trouble!"

"Sir Topham Hatt sees both steamies and diesels as equals, and wishes for us to have fair chances! Though, I must agree...Diesel 10 in particular shouldn't be here if he's out threatening us" the E2 agreed, then raising an eyebrow "Also, why are you in the sheds, James?"

James wrinkled his nose "Just got back from delivering that goods train. Too improper for a splendid engine like me"

Thomas just giggled "Hehe, puffy pistons" He teased. The mixed traffic engine rolled his eyes "At least I didn't have to pull rusty, dirty scrap to the scrapyard!" He retorted. Little known to anyone, Diesel 10 had found another route to Tidmouth Sheds, and was creeping up behind, silently eavesdropping the pair.

"Going back on topic, what actually happened at the scrapyard?"

"Well, Mr Conductor and I encountered Diesel 10, and he threatened me, saying how once he finds the 'Lost engine', all steam engines will die!" He explained. James widened his eyes "Lost engine? What lost engine? I've never heard such nonsense"

"Nonsense or not, we better make sure Diesel 10 doesn't find her. You remember how devious and crafty he is!"

"And what makes you think you can stop me, puffball?"

Thomas and James yelped as D10 made his presence known, fully oiling into view with a devious grin.

"HA!! You steamies are such wimps, I wouldn't be surprised if one of ya hid away in a tunnel one day and never came out!" He cackled. James wheeshed "W-What do you want, you big bully?!"

"Oh nothin'! I simply have some unfinished with one of you scrap heaps! Once I find her, you'll ALL be wiped out! Gone! Reduced to...uh...whatever those science guys call it — ya get my point! Your demise is nigh!" He threatened. Thomas glared back "I just can't understand why diesels like you find it so hard to get along with us! We're all meant to be fair, Sir Topham Hatt says so!"

Diesel 10 just scoffed "Pah! Fatt Hatt's delusional. He doesn't understand how superior diesels are to steamies! We're stronger, smarter, better...while you lot are weaker, dumber, and pathetic!"

"Ugh! To think that Juvenile yard would've corrected your behaviour. But CLEARLY not!" James spat. D10 chuckled "Well, those idiots shoulda tried harder!"

The tank engine and tender engine watched as Diesel 10 honked his horn and oiled away, laughing evily "Welp, sorry! Can't stick around, I got folks to see and errands to run! Better count your days, steamies!"

Thomas wheeshed and chuffed forward "You'll never find the Lost Engine and you will never dominate us! We won't let you!!" He shouted bravely. But the warship had already left. Mr Conductor had listened to the entire conversation, and worry began settling in.

"Sir Topham warned me of Diesel...I gotta be more watchful" he thought, rubbing his chin. He better keep a good eye on that warship...

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

Diesel 10 had an evil plan indeed, but he wasn't doing this alone. He wanted every diesel on his side to end steam on the island, he tried convincing Mavis at Ffarquharr, but he wasn't having much luck.

Mavis growled with irritation "I said no, D10! That's that!". Diesel 10 just ignored her words and buzzed up next to her "Oh, c'mon toots. It'll be fun!" He purred. Mavis still wouldn't budge at his encouragement.

"Well, I don't see whats so fun about killing off engines who did nothing to us. Now bog off!" She retorted, she didn't want anything to do with this. Diesel 10 was surprisingly, not angry. He just chuckled as he began reversing "Alrighty, toots. Be that way, but you can always change your mind~" his tone went dark as he said it.

He then went to Brendam Docks to find Salty, and by his luck, he found the dockside diesel shunting some freight cars.

"Ah, Salty..." he said, blocking the track with Pinchy, startling the other. Salty was, suffice to say, shocked to see Diesel 10 here. But he wasn't exactly too fond of the warship, especially for his past deeds "Yarr...Diesel 10. Wha' are ye doin' around here?" He asked, narrowing an eye.

Diesel 10 grinned devilishly "I've got a...proposal for you" He said "Of course, if you're interested?"

Salty let out an exhaust of smoke "Well, whatever 'tis then I be nah interested. Ye give us diesels a bad reputation! Ye nigh-on scuttled a steamer fer goodness sakes!" He grunted. "Grease n' oil, Salty. Do ya have that much sea water rusting away your radiator?! We diesels are superior to those heaps of scrap! We're revolutionary! We're–"

"I don't care how 'revolutionary' we be! I be nah joinin' in on any o' yer blasted plans! I do nah wish t' be responsible again fer engines losin' thar lives!!" Salty snapped, interrupting the larger diesel's preach. Diesel 10 sighed in defeat, knowing there's no other way to convince the pirate diesel. He was as stubborn as a mule.

But in his mind, the warship knew he struck a nerve. Salty once worked at the Southampton docks with his siblings, but he was always miserable, knowing that he and his siblings' arrival resulted in the steam engines before them losing their lives.

Diesel 10 let out his own exhaust of smoke and slowly reversed "Heh, suit yourself....old coot.." he spat, his demeanour taking a 180° turn. Salty sighed, ignoring his tone and went back to shunting, taking his mind off what happened. Cranky was observing things from above (since that's where he always is), and creaked "Ignore 'im, Salty. He's nothing but trouble"

Salty agreed "Right ye are, matey. Right ye are..."

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

At the end of the day, Diesel 10 let out a loud groan as he returned to the Smelter's.

"Ugh...how hard is it to get a little help on this island?!" He grumbled to himself. Just then, the sounds of gibberish chatter echoed from within the shed, getting louder as he got closer, a small sigh escaped his lips "Well...guess these goons are all the help I'm gonna get..."

Within the Smelter's shed, two small diesel shunters were waiting. One was a dusty yellow the other a dusty lavender colour. They were both currently on trial, but weren't really fussed in doing their actual jobs, being more interested in harassing steamies and causing trouble. They rarely got away with any of this behaviour, mostly for being quite dumb. These two shunters were named Splatter and Dodge.

"So uhh...when do ya think the big boss is gonna get here??" Splatter drawled to Dodge "I-I dunno! Howzabout we ask the boss?" The yellow diesel replied lazily.

"Yeah but where would he be?"

"M-Maybe he's busy?"

"I'm right here, ya morons!"

The two yelped as the warship suddenly came in, snapping his claw impatiently, the ominous red glow of the building only enhancing his looks "O-Oh! Boss, we didn't hear ya come in! Heheheh..." Dodge anxiously smiled, Splatter frantically agreed.

"QUIET!" Diesel 10 yelled. The two shunters immediately shut up. The warship took a deep breath "Now...I'm glad you've shown up, Splodge"

"Actually, it's Splatter" the purple shunter said meekly.

"A-And Dodge" the yellow one chimed in. Diesel 10 rolled his eyes "I ain't got time to say both names! I'm lookin' for a steam engine!" He said.

"O-Oh that's easy!"

"Yeah, they're everywhere!"

"Not the one I want. She and her driver escaped me once before, and as long as she's still alive, so are the others..." D10 clarified, a dark grin spread across his face, the lights flickering "...but if she can be destroyed..."

Splatter and Dodge gulped, exchanging glances "D-Destroyed???" "Did you say destroyed? Like...killed??"

"Yeah, 'destroyed''. Something wrong, fellas?" Diesel 10 asked, narrowing his eyes at them.

Splatter disagreed "Oh, nothing! It's just...uhhh...one small problem there, boss..." "...M-Mr Conductor won't allow that" Dodge finished nervously.

"I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT!!" The warship suddenly snapped "Twinkletoes doesn't tell ME what to do! I'll just kill him as well, WITH PINCHY!!" He rose his claw, Pinchy up to the air and snapped it menacingly, laughing evilly as he did it. But suddenly, the claw ended up swinging down and bonking him on the forehead.

"GAH! Pinchy, I hate it when ya do that..." D10 whimpered. The shunters burst out with giggles as they watched the bigger diesel try to move the claw away from his face.

Once he did, he coughed out of embarrassment "Ahem! Uh...sorry about that, gentlemen. Now...where were we...?"

"Y-You were saying how you can do whatever you want?"

"I–I knew that, dummy! As I said, I can do whatever I want! That means I can take over this whole railway if I wanted, maybe even the whole island!" Diesel 10 proclaimed. His eyes then wandered up to where his driver would be through the window, which was currently empty.

"But...I'll need human help. My old driver is currently stuck at some faraway country. But last week I got word that he's findin' a way here, and when he does...the REAL fun will begin! HAHAHAHAHA!!" He cackled. Splatter and Dodge slowly joined in, laughing with him. But they were oblivious about the reason.

"Heheheheh...u-uh, why are we laughing?"

[sablesides-writing-corner]

My Muse's Mirror (Pt.2)

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

The dread set in once Virgil realized it was nearly five in the morning and Roman still hadn't come in to tell him to go to bed.

It wasn't the kind of dread that made him think his beloved was dying of course, but it was dread nonetheless.

“Roman? Is everything ok? Are you just asleep?” Virgil whispered as he approached the main bedroom.

The racking chorus of coughs that followed was all the answer he needed.

“Right! Well- you are not going into work tomorrow- and I'm going to sleep on the couch tonight-” Virgil said, Roman only responded with a feeble thumbs up and another outburst of coughing.

It was going to be a long night.

Virgil plopped himself back down on the couch, mourning the loss of warmth at not sleeping in the same bed as his knight in shining bother, but safety was safety- he wasn't about to get himself sick and risk not being able to take care of Roman.

Roman still wasn't awake by the time Virgil tore himself up off the couch, electing to start the day with a completely normal and healthy 3 cups straight of coffee with extra extra sugar.

Then it was time to get started on The Soup.

The Soup, as Virgil remembered it, was a longtime ancestral recipe of his families, which was supposed to cure any sickness, and hey, it did its job on him when he was a kid, why not try it out now.

So Virgil got out the biggest cooking pot he could find, and got to work.

It was a long, grueling, sweaty few hours later when the thing was finally done, and the kitchen smelled so alarmingly of backyard herbs that Virgil wouldn't be surprised if the smell was still there by Christmas.

And, just in time, he heard the dismayed groaning of Roman finally waking up from what Virgil could probably only describe as a brief coma.

“Alright big guy- I've got something that might help” Virgil said as he finished ladelling some of The Soup into a bowl.

“I feel like I got hit by like. Six buses.” was all Roman could manage to get out.

“Summer sickness'll do that to you- now eat up before I start spooning it in for you,” Virgil said with a laugh. Once he was sure Roman would finish the food on his own he went back to the kitchen to get the rest of The Soup into a suitable container.

He also took it upon himself to call into Roman's work to confirm his sick day- or days, if necessary- and muttered a silent prayer that it was his nice coworker that answered the phone this time.

Then it was time for the dreaded family phone call.

“Where is my ailing baby brother! I've got presents!” Remus called as he burst through the door.

“Remus that was locked,” said Virgil in exasperation.

“Oh- well! It's probably not broken!” Responded the man, ruffling Virgil's hair- as if it wasn't messy enough already from the humidity in the kitchen.

“He's still moping around in bed, hasn't gotten up pretty much all day,” Virgil answered Remus’ earlier question.

“Shouldn't be contagious- seems like it's just a cold so we're hoping it'll go away soon,” Virgil said, pulling out his drawing tablet while Remus had his little visiting hour with his brother.

It was a few hours before Remus left, and Virgil felt like his social battery was almost completely worn out.

“You know, you could still go to the carnival without me- if it's still in town,” Roman said in a raspy tone from the bedroom.

“I mean what else am I gonna do? Buy more jewelry?” Virgil said.

“I mean it! I think it'd be fun to hang out on your own for a bit- or invite Janus or something-” Roman continued, he seemed. . . Urgent. . . About it, almost weirdly so.

“I- alright- alright fine- I'll just- call Janus I guess-” Virgil said, pulling out his cellphone.

“So. . . Where did you say this carnival was? I thought it was open till the end of next month?” Janus said, looking around confused at the very much empty lot.

“Well. I can say it was here yesterday because I have picture- maybe something happened and they had to-” Virgil paused for a second as something glinted in the corner of his eye. He took a few steps towards whatever it was, and found a pendant lying on the ground, a spider holding a large purple gem hanging off of the chain.

“This that necklace you were going on about?” Janus asked, Virgil nodded, eyes still transfixed on the jewelry.

“Well, they left it here, their loss I guess- shall we?” Janus asked.

Virgil still didn't respond. Something about the necklace was. . . Familiar. . . He just wasn't entirely sure what.

“Virgil. . . Virgil. . . Virgil!” Virgil was finally jolted back into realty by the sound of his cousin's yelling in the background.

“Oh! Uh- sorry- got uh- distracted-” Virgil responded, Janus looked bemused.

“Let's- let's just get home ok? I think you've got a stuffy nosed prince to be looking after, hm?”

“I uh- yeah. . . Yeah. . .”

He'd worry about the necklace later, after he washed it off thoroughly.

Roman still wasn't any better when he got home, which was expected- Virgil hadn't thought he'd cured him, but he'd at least expected him to get a little better.

But he'd been wrong- in fact Roman almost seemed to have gotten worse. . .

“Goodnight hun,” Virgil said as he left the bathroom to go lay down on the couch.

He stared at the necklace in his hands for a long time, turning it over in his palms, running his thumb along the purple gem in the center.

He knew this necklace from somewhere. . . He just couldn't remember. And that was very, very inconvenient.

He set the pendant down on the table next to the couch and decided to leave the pondering for tomorrow, worrying about it now wouldn't do him any good, probably. . .

[didderd]

🍷 (it can be any drink, whatever you enjoy while you work!) and ⏳ perhaps?

(psst—keep up the great work and take care of yourself! Your art makes me smile and you’re amazing. Okie I go now 🫶)

(ty cay. ;v; n you too <333)

🍷 Do you drink and draw?

i have been known to drink n draw a bit :3

milk knows lmao:

(their sona's kinda hot, ok?)

i'v actually found that it makes my sketches looser n more fluid, so i quite like drawing tipsy. :> (tho ofc it'll make lineart kinda sloppy lol)

(ofc i would not use it for the purpose of sketching better. it would not be smart to start doing that. could easily lead to something bad. i just like to draw when i do get tipsy. <3)

⌛ How long does it take you to complete a sketch versus a finished image?

hh 't depends. on a small piece a sketch might be. 10 to 20 minutes? but to finish it would be at least an hour.

a big-ish piece, th sketch's probably at least an hour, while finishing it might be idk. 5 hours? ish??

(these r kinda jus educated guesstimates. i don't pay a lot of attention to the time, nor do i time myself lol)

[tea-earl-grey]

Get to Know Me!

tagged by @lostyesterday (thanks for the tag <333)

Last song: based on my phone – Everything's Here And Nothing's Lost by Snow Patrol but technically my last song is about two lines from Intros & Narrators by Bastille which i've been listening to on repeat for a few days while editing my Janeway fanvid.

Favorite color: purple!

Currently watching: just finished watching Only Murders in the Building which i enjoyed more than i thought i would since i'm not a huge fan of murder mysteries but it's fun! also the musical numbers in s3 slapped and i'm looking forward to the rest of s4.

Last movie: i genuinely have no idea, i haven't been watching a lot of movies lately so it might be Star Trek 2009??? which i rewatched over a month ago i think.

Sweet/spicy/savory: currently sweet because i'm currently eating some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies :)

Relationship status: single and happy.

Current obsessions: (glances around) i mean you're on this blog so i think you can put two and two together here. aside from Star Trek & Doctor Who, i've been getting back into cross stitching which hopefully won't absolutely fuck up my hands this time (i mean... they will, i'm just trying to be better about only doing it for an hour a day and wearing my elbow brace & compression gloves)

Last thing I googled: "best toasters" ok. so earlier today i fucked up my toaster beyond belief and i do need to tell the story now because it's still absolutely baffling to me. (under the cut because uh. it got long.)

tagging: any of my mutuals! sorry i'm so bad at tag games.

toaster story:

i was having a late lunch (toast with some leftovers) and sliced my bread a bit too thin (not a big deal, happens all the time, right? right?) i popped the toast up a little early because i didn't want it to get burnt but it got stuck. not a problem. i'll get some (non metal) tongs. whoops! it fell out of the little toast cage because of how thin it is and now it's more stuck. okay well i'll unplug the toaster and just turn it upside down. nope. it somehow falls to the bottom where the crumb tray is. ok well i'll just flip it back around, take out the crumb tray and it's fine, right? i flip it around and the toast is simply not visible anymore. "well that's weird," i say, "surely if i shake it some more, it'll come out, right?" it did not. i start to question whether the bread is even in there anymore because where could it go???? before spotting it with my flashlight and seeing that it somehow migrated to the wall between the food/toaster part of the toaster and the circuitry part of the toaster. i have no idea how it happened but it should be easy to free it if i just undo the screws that attach the bottom panel of the toaster and i can do a good deep clean of everything. i take five screws out, no problem and it's starting to pry off. i get to the last screw and... it's completely stripped. i have a pretty comprehensive toolbox with one of those multi-piece screwdrivers that has like 50 different heads. usually with stripped screws, you can find something that sorta works well enough to get it out but nope. nothing even close to fitting. at this point i decide to text my mom the situation because surely i was missing something obvious. my mom comes over laughing a bit at me because i'm known for overlooking easy solutions and surely it's not possible to fuck up making toast this much. it was. another hour passes and we definitely can't get out the screw without destroying the toaster and we haven't been able to shake the toast out. any sane person would probably just think that maybe the $30 toaster had served its purpose and is a lost cause. but a new strategy emerged! we managed to shake the bread to the unscrewed side of the toaster and could pry it open about three quarters of an inch. the bread somehow managed to get behind a circuit board so we just needed to be able to navigate it around and theoretically pull it out. after a few attempts, i finally managed to grab hold of the bread (that was somehow still entirely intact?) with my weirdly skinny fingers and i pulled it out victorious! however we did completely bend the plastic base that we were prying up and during a brief test to see if the toaster still worked it definitely started to smell like burning electronics so. rip. but we got the bread out just to prove we could!! and frankly i think i would have had too much of a grudge against that toaster to keep using it even if it did work.

so yeah. therefore googling "best toasters".

[sol-lar-bink]

Boi howdy am i cooking like... one big ass pic.

Finally drawing all my pokemon villains/ antagonists in one pic. Therea a lot of em hehe.

I have the whooooole sketch done, but immm debating on sharing the whole thing, or snippets if it to slowly introduce the characters.

I have no clue how long it'll take... I don't plan to shade it too much.

Normally I'm worried that I will never finish it, but it'd be really cool to have all those stories in my head be somewhat represented, all in one piece.

I wish I was more confident in sharing my silly ideas and putting myself out there.

I've also got some sonic doodles i wanna try n finish soon. Generations and the movie are really getting me hyped.

I got... some kirby ideas but i feel like my focus has been shifting lately. And to think I was gonna try and be a Taranza & Sectonia artist... i just can't stick to something for long. That or i NEED something- or someone to keep me sticking to it.

I legit only talk to like... 2 people about kirby stuff? But its not regularly cos guess what!!! We all like pokemon too!!!! And probably more, in fact.

The Hollow Knight phase died as fast as it usually does lmao. Didn't finish that one pic.

I know the Sonic mood wont last long either.

I apologise for this ranble. Its 2am, im in bed ready to sleep, instead typing this all out.

I've been thinking about going back to college honestly. Try to get a better job with it. Or open commissions and drop my shorter days at work. Tbh i wanna leave my job more and more as time goes on. Need something more sustainable.

Is youtube and making games profitable? Heh, probably not... its a dream to have a self-employed job like that.

Ok it's late enough now. Ty reading this far if you did. You da best.

[growling]

I am still very much verbal(?) but I've just slowly started speaking less and less as time went on (though its going much quicker lately), and when I do it's not coming off clear. Like, sure, I can talk but I can't hold an actual full-on conversation for any longer than a minute, even then when I'm actually talking I'm breathing weirdly, stuttering a lot or slurring words together. I start struggling whenever the answer to whatever people say can't be either "yes" "no" "ok" or just by repeating words they said just in a different order so it sounds like an answer. Whenever I can I always just respond to anything by just saying either of these three words, my family pretty much knows that me saying "ok" in a certain tone means "thank you", and I basically just substitute that for it (and most other phrases) because it's easier for me. "dzięki" is tiring for me to say so it'll probably come out as "en-ki" anyway.

And its not me not wanting to talk, (though often I don't. Or just gave up cause of not being able to) it's that I simply can't get the words out normally even if I know what to say. I can't give a satisfactory answer to anything people say or express any of my opinions to them because I'm only coherent when I'm typing aka can always go back or take a long pause. And like. I'd fucking LOVE to actually say whatever's on my mind whenever I want but I just can't, so I never do, unless I'm being asked a yes or no question or something. Often I end up just stuttering a lot until I start hyperventilating and whoever I'm talking to either loses interest and gives it up before I can finish or just gets mad at me and tells me to stop. Or I give them a short, a bit slurred but a coherent answer that they understood and they act like its a moral failing and I should speak normally/clearly and that I'm not 2 years old anymore and get irritated. So I just sorta also gave up on trying to speak that much anymore.

Typing is easier for me but still hard. You wouldn't believe how many breaks I needed to write all this up to this point. Sometimes when I'm overwhelmed I also give up on trying to make every word gramatically correct and just type in the words and their simplest form (there are a few examples of it if you scroll far enough on either of my blogs) and do the bare minimum to check if people would understand it because I just don't have the energy. Words are evil.

I think I may have forgotten something but as always, words are evil, and I kinda don't really care