#pareil

[donnyclaws]

Pulling from the vault 🪳

[vhscorp]

L’amour est pareil au vent : on ne le voit pas mais on sent tout de suite quand il est là…

V. H. SCORP

[lolochaponnay]

[redwolf]

Pareil designed Mas Baudran House in Arles, France -- via ArchDaily

[theblackcards45]

🌎🚚🛥✈️🚀💣💳💶📲📦📬 Si tu veux te faire plein de tunnes crace o carte blanche. Cliquez sur mon lien Snapchat en profil o cas contraire veillez m’ajouter sur Telegram :@ronaldcarts. snapchat: Ronaldcard100 whatssap: +33 6 46 92 82 52

[radiomogai]

[PT: Pareil. End PT]

Pareil

※ Pareil is when you look at a person, wonder "Do I want to date them or be them?" And the answer is "Both."

On a more serious note, this term aims for the blurry distinction between gender envy and attraction (of any type). For those who can't, or don't want to, distinguish between the two. Their ideal gender (presentation) is their orientation, or vice versa. Can be used as pareiloriented, pareilsexual, pareilaesthetic, pareilgender, etc. Pareilgender may be considered an orientationgender.

Example: a feminine boy who is aesthetically attracted to feminine boys and feels like their attraction is influenced by what they get gender envy from / what their ideal presentation is could call themselves an pareilaesthetic Rosboy.

※ Etymology: From the French pareil meaning "(the) same, alike, like"

※ Note: This term was originally conceptualized using the french word for mirror, miroir, instead. I dropped this because I know there are a few terms using mirror- already and I was worried it'd be too similar to those, I still encourage the use of miroir as a synonym to pareil tho, it sounds very neat

※ This term is purposefully a little vague because putting concrete rules on a term like this only unnecessarily makes people feel alienated in my experience, if you related to the introductory first line you're more than likely the demographic the term aims for and free to use it!

※ Fun fact: This term started out a little light-hearted but I did also seriously vibe with it once I had written down the concept

⊂⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⊃/ᐠ｡ꞈ��ᐟ\⊂⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⊃ Image ID: A flag with eleven stripes, the outer two and the central one are twice as wide as the two sets of three between them. From top to bottom, the colors are: Pale blue, pale green, white, light gray, mid gray, dark gray (central), mid gray, light gray, white, pale purple, pale yellow.

[thebusylilbee]

this might not seem like a big deal to some bc US politicians say worse things every single day of their lives, but in France this is genuinely some bottom of the barrel shit, I do not remember any significant french political figure ever insulting another country and its citizens this openly and vulgarly in recent history 😐

[a-room-of-my-own]

Pas besoin d’être un mec pour être une vieille raclure aux dents moisies qui rayent le parquet, j’en ai pour preuve les avocates de la défense de certains accusés du procès Pélicot

Et je vous épargne les reels de Me El Bouroumi qui entre deux défenses du voile islamique hurle sur la victime en pleine audience et se film en voiture en pleine crise de victim-blaming.

Life and business coach mon cul oui.

[tautowrites]

Captive: a Zoro x Sanji fanfic!

When Sanji is captured and used by bait by a distanced rival (I made an OC for this please bear with me here), Zoro comes swiftly to the rescue. Inspired by That Scene From Dr. Who and also this tiktok (WITH GORGEOUS ART YOU SHOULD GO SEND YOUR LOVE TO) where I commented I would write an inspired fic and then over 80 people gave me the encouragement to keep writing it!!

Warnings: some talks of food deprivation / sedating so he cant fight so drugging / being held prisoner of course

Long so I will put it under here!! pls let me know if you like it

Cell walls can start to feel like an islet if you close your eyes for long enough, the only thing that was missing for Sanji was the sound of waves and the occasional mist in the face. It was hard not to think about then in the now, when he couldn’t tell for his own life how many days it had been. Trapped on the other side of a dense door, what an unbreakable beast it had been when he tried first to kick it down, surrounded by equally infuriating walls.

When footsteps finally echoed in the hall, something inside him had the nerve to hope it was someone, anyone. Every moment of the door opening etched into his skull, turning of locks and clicking of mechanisms that kept the door set in frame. He had half the mind to tackle whoever opened the door, potential of it being crew or not, but he found no energy to move. Of course, it couldn’t be as simple as a savior, Sanji had to be faced with the unpleasant uniform of the guards.

Each and every one of them with elegant armor and a gorgeous helmet to tie everything together. The one that opened the door had an annoyingly heavy gait, Sanji felt something in his stomach churn at the sound of the figures clanking boots.

“Still above talking to your prisoners, les flics,” Sanji spit at the guard in front of him, the newest one he spotted behind the first. He watched the doorway clear as the first guard stepped aside, letting the other in.

The rough agent of Sanji’s mistreatment wasted no time binding his legs and arms, making sure he would be useless on the off chance that he mustered up the strength to fight. Ruthless bastards hadn't fed him in days, why were they rubbing it in his face that he should have some kick in him still? Did they think that he could still hold through it? Had anyone cared to listen last time he was here anyway, to remember how much it would hurt him in the first place, or were they just being assholes for the sake of it?

Sanji truthfully didn’t know exactly who had captured him, assuming it was his family that kidnapped him just gave him something to hate, which gave him something to stay awake and think about, which… well, he was alive, it worked, that was what mattered, right? Not the ever-looming possibility that it could be one of his brothers or sisters under those helms, that his father had redecorated the palace, brought him back in another attempt to reunite the family. Again.

The guards wouldn’t give a response, dragging him down the hallway past empty cell after empty cell, each the same as the one he’d been in. When his mind started wondering about why no prisoners seemed left alive, the floor seemed much more interesting than anything else. It didn’t look like something his father would have installed, which was only partially a relief.

It was a delicate pattern of stones, multicolored, hideous really. Shortly after the doorway it turned into steps, which had wooden flooring at the top of it. He hadn’t paid any attention to it before, being dragged in entirely unconscious of course, but now he could tell it certainly wasn't anything that his family would stand living in.

Too small, too cramped in, which meant almost worse- a bounty hunter.

“Well, if it isn’t Black Leg,” A voice called up ahead, shadowy and eerie, coated in utter mischief, “Sanji, such a pleasure to host you here.”

He didn’t recognize the sound, or the face that emitted the noise, Sanji wasn’t in charge of keeping up with faces. Just recipes, taking care of the kitchen, he couldn’t stop thinking about a skillet and a smoke.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” The stranger spoke again, rising from a seat adorned with what looked like a bunch of sticks, different colors and patterns on each of them, with strips of fabric or rope on some.

“Why should I talk to you,” He hated when his voice sounded this hoarse. Sanji had to bargain to take care of it, despite his deepest desires to avoid the conversation, “What’s in it for me?”

“An invitation to a bit of a celebration. One of my very own,” That sounded like an easy solution. He wondered what else was in store, “You’ll have to get cleaned up and dressed, of course. I’ll provide you clothing to suit the occasion.”

If Sanji hated rich idiots, he hated people who pretended to be rich idiots even more. This place was nothing more than a massive house bordering on the idea of a mansion, with eclectic decorations and copy-paste guards lining the walls, holding him by the arms still.

“Fine,” Sanji caved at the very idea of food and drink, not even the promise or direct implication of it. Only the hope it would be something, anything. “Whatever the hell you want.”

-----

After being brought to a side room, Sanji was briefly released by the guards and untied so he could struggle to get in a suit that had been prepared for him. The thing was scratchy, he could hardly stand it, but his nose could not mistake the distant smell of searing meat and vegetables, it was all that got him to stay on his feet.

The guards soon tugged him along to a dining room, a bit more to Sanji’s standards- surprisingly- than the rest of the place. He was glad to be left free, if only for a moment. Soon enough the guards were back at it, tying just his legs this time to the chair itself. Fair enough, he supposed.

“Food’s almost out,” The man across the table spoke, Sanji could see him a little more clearly, in a dapper suit much like the one Sanji was wearing. Behind him were rows of… swords. Strange enough, but Sanji had seen stranger collections among pirates.

As if upon cue, the same fucking guards again came out with massive plate after plate of food. Sanji would’ve died if he wasn’t so determined to live to taste some of it. He immediately began to eat when his plate landed in front of him, prompting a guard to pull his hands back.

“Wait- wait,” The man with the grating voice spoke, Sanji had already swallowed a few cooked baby carrots, chewed haphazardly enough they were a bit sharp to swallow, but his stomach thanked him. Sanji glared, the man began again, “You need to at least wait for our guest to arrive! But you have been hungry, haven’t you?”

“What’s your problem?” The guards let go of Sanji’s hands at a signal, just as he had spoken. He immediately went back to his food, not giving this man an ounce of table manners, “You pick me up, you lock me in a room, what the hell did I do to you?”

Laughter pierced the air, and Sanji almost dropped his mutton, but he was better than that. Every ounce of food he got into him was a relief like no other, even if freedom felt ultimately useless to hope for at this point. The man spoke, “Not to me, not exactly, but to your dear dear Red-Leg.”

That was enough to get him to drop his food. He’d shoveled enough into his stomach fast enough anyway, a well-developed skill. He stared daggers, the seat wouldn't budge as much as he tried, “Don’t bring him up, you don’t even know-”

“Do I?” He slammed into the table with his hands, fury, unimaginable, “Do I not know Zeff, Sanji, working on his crew and trying to be his favorite next to you-”

A silence fell upon the room. Sanji looked closer, blinking, looking down at the food and recalling a million offhand comments to the cycles of people that came to work at Zeff’s. But to be this personal, it had to be early, right?

It clicked, Sanji screamed out, “Pareil!”

“Took you look enough,” There was venom in the phrase, no warmth at the recognition, “You steal his favor from me, you steal my future, you destroyed him.”

Pareil had been close to Zeff as a captain, not a ship chef. The food he made always came out the same every time no matter how much criticism he received. He always talked about how much he wanted to go back to sailing around, not sitting in the same spot and cooking, offered to be captain since he was one of the few old crew that stuck around. Sanji always felt the resentment, but never thought on it, never thought it would lead here.

The words had settled too close with Sanji as well, hurt too truthfully. He went on and off feeling Zeff’s retirement to be his fault. Now was certainly one of those ‘on’ moments, if it hadn’t already been. Faced with a former crew member of the man himself, Sanji could only find comfort in that common ground.

“He’d be disappointed in you for this,” He hummed, unable to keep himself from disturbing the peaceful air. Sanji wasn’t the civil sort, not for suckers like this. “You’d be getting a kick in the head.”

“Shut the hell up,” Pareil snapped, not seeming insulted as much as he was just completely fed up with Sanji’s presence, so why would he still be keeping this charade going? He kept speaking, Sanji hoped for answers, “You leaving The Baratie was the best thing you did, I thought you would finally be out of my head, Sanji, you know that?”

He stayed quiet. For all it mattered, he felt like it would bring those answers.

“I stayed, I thought you being gone would make Zeff snap out of it and stop playing papa,” Pareil was making Sanji’s blood simmer, “But he just kept up with the cooking, named a menu item after you- that's around when I left at least.”

Sanji wanted to rip out of the chair, but those bindings, whatever they were made of held him steady, or maybe the food had been compromised to weaken him. It didn’t matter, did it?

“You’re my new target, Sanji,” It didn’t feel hard to assume, but the solidification of the fact made the air feel so cold. Pareil sounded even more frigid somehow, “I want to ruin you like you ruined me, simple as that. Won’t even kill you!”

“What the fuck,” Sanji couldn’t manage much more, really. His head hurt, his brain was spinning in a million directions, and everything inside of him wanted to scream for help that wouldn’t hear him.

Pareil stood up, the wall’s decorative swords and the sticks adorning the chair in the main room- not sticks, sheaths- Sanji wouldn’t have taken pride in putting the dots together even if he had, “I can’t believe I have to spell it out for you. Roronoa Zoro, the acclaimed swordsman you tote around. Are you not the one that Zoro would risk life and limb for?”

Sanji had to scoff, something that covered him from recognizing a shuffling in the background, somewhere behind him. He stared at his own captor, dumbfounded, “You’re using me as bait, for Zoro? You would’ve had a better chance laying out a good meal and sake, thinking Zoro has any interest in saving my ass, idiot you are-”

“Are you not the man that loves him?” The nerve to interrupt, Sanji was fuming and yet nothing could fully free him from his seat, he obviously wasn’t supposed to be able to leave this. Pareil truly thought it would work, and he sounded like it too, the strange smile he wore tainting his voice, “Surely-”

“Me love him? Sure as that smug look on your fucking face,” He wished he could shut up, but it was a problem of who knows how long of pouring a lot of love into every meal of Zoro’s. He always seemed to enjoy it more, or maybe Sanji learned to enjoy him. He scoffed, half affectionate, rest stubborn as ever, “You’ll have to get rid of whoever told you he loved me back, though, he’s gonna be the greatest swordsman in the world, and you think you can beat him, you think you can even get him here using me?”

It was Pareil’s turn to fall silent, looking through Sanji like glass. He still seemed to be hearing everything. Even if he wasn’t, Sanji needed to say everything that was pouring from him.

“Zoro doesn’t waste time being in love with nobody, you think he’d get distracted with the shipcook you fucking idiot? Sure you’re right, if you could kill him you would take the stars from my goddamn night sky,” His face was red from yelling, he could feel it, but there was still more bubbling out of his chest, “You don’t love a man grander than all the seas and expect him to give you the time of the day, but if you think someone as petty as you- if you think he’s so fucking small to love me back?”

One of the guards had come to restrain his hands again, something in Sanji didn’t feel the need to fight them, to listen to what the normally speechless guards said, just to keep yelling.

“He’d never get that lost about me, the crew would drag him into it and he’d destroy every one of you, but he would never love me back and that’s fine-” There was a metal clank, the guard's hands were gone, he’d been tugged out the chair’s bindings- now sliced expertly. He recognized the cutwork.

The sight of Zoro’s face hit the nail on the head, Sanji had been spun around- best so he wouldn’t see Pareil’s look of utter self-satisfaction- and it was Zoro gripping each of his arms. “Sanji.. Hey lovecook.”

“You,” He could’ve cried. Could have. But he didn’t want Zoro to see. Or Pareil for that matter. “Why are you here! You stupid mossball-”

“I think you know,” Zoro put Sanji aside, preparing a sword in each hand, the man had become so lightning fast with drawing and redrawing those swords. Sanji couldn’t help but appreciate it.

It seemed the food had something in it, given that Sanji felt powerless to fight alongside Zoro, forced to sit back and watch the whole fight unfold without contributing a single second. It bothered him in too many ways, all sorts of unfair prodding at his inadequacies on top of watching Zoro prove him right and perform excellently in a battle of blades. Pareil was, as Sanji expected, short work, and his guards stood much of the same level of difficulty. Soon enough Zoro was back in front of him, offering a hand to help him up, unable to look him directly in the eye.

Sanji took the hand, stood, and spoke, “You could’ve let me handle it. I would have gotten myself out of that eventually.”

“You’re lucky you can stand, I tried to get you not to eat any of that shit,” Zoro mumbled, pulling a satchel from his bag that smelled distinctly like rice and fish. Sanji was handed one of Zoro’s very own hand made onigiri. A bite of it revealed leftover fish that Sanji had prepared roughly a week ago, a day before capture.

Having a bit of a time frame and a snack he could trust, Sanji still couldn’t shut up, “You need to forget everything you heard, by the way. All of it was probably because of the poisoned food or something.”

Zoro didn’t seem able to respond for a moment, looking at Sanji dumbfounded. “It was stupid of you to trust the food. You could’ve been killed. You’re lucky it wasn’t poison; it was a sedative.”

“Sedative? I don’t feel sedated,” Maybe not enough to stop bickering about, but Sanji had begun slouching against his companion, in denial as he ever would remain in any situation of weakness. “I feel ready to start preparing dinner for the crew, what is Luffy craving?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Zoro sighed, tossing Sanji over his shoulder with a surprising lack of protest, stepping over body by unconscious body. “Back to the boat, a nap, and then we’ll talk.”

A nap sounded good, too good. Maybe Sanji could let his worries of appearance fall away for a moment, just to be at rest in Zoro’s arm, even if it meant dangling uncomfortably over his shoulder. There was something nice about it.

-----

Soft linen on a mattress can remind a man of the inside of his suits, the way that he sewed them together himself and brought them to his fellow cooks, proud smiles and youthful eyes. He would repair every cook’s jacket from that point on, not because he asked to, but because they would ask him. Truth is, Sanji loved mending things, just as much as he loved cooking.

He’d woken up with the sun, found Zoro’s pants from the previous day, and begun sewing small rips in the fabric throughout the morning. The swordsman was asleep on a chair, no surprise, Sanji knew well not to bicker about when and where the man could catch rest.

It was sweet to realize Zoro gave him the space of the bed, that he stayed by Sanji’s side overnight. How could he not feel some way about it? Every stitch tied up his heart with it, Zoro’s pants just needed to be mended, that was all, right? Nothing else, never anything else.

Sanji’s mind burned as the other slept next to him. He needed answers, he’d fallen asleep propped over the man’s shoulder, he could only remember how well the scuffle went, brutal but quick, admirable. He was so focused on finishing up the last stitch that he didn’t notice Zoro rise from slumber to observe the room.

“Sanji,” It was particularly forward, Zoro saying his name, it always sounded so much different than the little nicknames they’d created for one another. Sanji’s head snapped to look over, Zoro kept speaking, “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” Sanji was a few moments from being convinced Zoro was ignoring what had happened, everything said.

The silence hung.

Zoro spoke again, “Did you mean everything?”

Sanji felt stiff, creaking wood alongside the seat he perched on, “I- I did, yes.”

“You made it sound like I’d be a failure if I loved you back.”

He hadn’t thought of it that way, he just didn’t think Zoro would get distracted by love.

“Do you think I’m that shoddy at what I do, that you would distract me?”

Sanji felt his chest cave in. Just for a moment. Just until a hand was on his face, calloused but so gentle.

“You may have caught me up here and there, but Sanji,” Zoro wouldn’t let their eye contact break now that he’d made the connection. He looked like he was holding one of his precious things, worth keeping from getting scathed, worried over Sanji’s exhausted features from capture, “Ever since I fell in love with you, I have found something more than pride to fight for, I will never give up my goal, but that must not mean giving up you.”

He couldn’t get a single word out, not for any lack of space to speak but the sheer inability to muster a sound. Sanji could feel his voice grappling with his tongue, his mouth refusing to move, his eyes watering, pouring, he was crying. In front of Zoro, too, how awful. How sweet the hands that wiped away the tears, patient the man they belonged to, waiting for Sanji to come back to reality.

“You mean it?” Finally, words came from the cook, feeling more useless than ever in such a strange way.

Zoro laughed, smiled, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, his tearstained cheeks, kissed him with the fire of a man who didn’t know how to get I love you to dance off his lips, just how to wrangle a hand into someone’s hair and breathe them in. How long had passed? A minute? An hour? Sanji could’ve gone for days, weeks, but Zoro had to break away to breathe, “That a good answer?”

Again, useless, red-faced, Sanji was lost in adoration, dripped into his voice with a sweet and simple, “That- That works, yeah.”

[thatcheeseycandle]

T2024, Day 1: Dawn | TC-LRAU

Hours would've passed by now, seeing the sun would be rising on the horizon and flocks of birds would be flying through the sky. It was a peaceful day today.

It was the morning after such a celebration had happened last night, and the engine of the hour last night would start to be awaken to his shed door creaking as it opened, yawning as he opened his eyes to see who it was.

Four people, entering the shed, huh. That's five less people from last night. Eyeing the four people, he'd try to recall the basic things he might know about them.

Lloyd, the one who christened him with a name, well more like a name that was easier to recall rather than his already given name.

Then there were two other people he couldn't recognise, a fit ginger that seemed related to Emrys and a brunette with salt and pepper hair. But speaking of Emrys, he'd light up as he spotted him among the four of them in the corner.

Emrys would notice this as he smiled back at-

“Stephen, a good day to you, young Rocket,” he greets him as he steps on his foot plate, examining his controls and firebox door, while the other three start checking over his boiler and collect their tools.

But Stephen on the other hand, he'd glance outside the skylight above him, observing the clouds slowly move and form themselves into different shapes, though it wasn't as mystifying as the night sky it was still indeed a lovely sight to see.

The birds chirping were like the crickets chirping last night, except more calming. More pleasant and peaceful. It was so bright today, brighter than last night, he could see the birds flying over the shed and hear the ruffles of bushes from outside.

And speaking of brightness, the sun was starting to color the baby blue sky with a tangerine shade of orange as sunbeams shine through the clouds and into the shed through the windows, the light bouncing off his glossed livery as well.

As the outside got brighter and brighter, pushing out the cold air, a beam of light would start to form from the skylight. His crew paid no mind to it as they continued their work.

But then, the beam of sunlight would get brighter and brighter, to the point it'd-

“AGH!”

“oH CHRIST ABOVE-” Lloyd exclaims as Stephen’s eyes are blinded by the beam of light that suddenly shines over his eyes, nearly falling off the footplate from Stephen’s sudden flinch, seeing as he had just gotten on it. Though thankfully enough Emrys had grabbed Lloyd’s wrist, pulling him back on the footplate.

The other two young engineers would take a glance at the two on the footplate, seeing as they were behind Stephen’s tender digging through a crate of tools and materials. An awkward silence would fill the air for a bit.

Though the silence would break as the sound of screeching would amplify and ring through their ears.

“Fuck- Stephen!”

Emrys would make his way to the front of Stephen, seeing what he was doing.

“The light, thE LIGHT, THE LIGHT!”

Stephen was trying to reverse, but thanks to his brakes, he was starting to fracture them as his wheels tried to roll, his eyes closed tightly as he tried to avoid the sun that blinded him.

One of the young engineers would immediately climb onto the footplate of Stephen and release his brakes, suddenly stumbling forward as Stephen sped into the buffers behind him with a big- SLAM!

“What the bloody hell happened?!”

“Rocket! Are you okay?!”

He’d relax as the flames in his firebox stopped flaring up, calming down as he groaned from his buffers now aching from the sudden impact that came from slamming himself into the buffers behind him. Opening his eyes after they’ve stopped watering from the contact they made with the sun rays from above.

“I’m- I’m alright,” he croaks out as he takes a glance at this person who had just entered through the sheds, to which his eyes light up seeing who it is.

“You! Sir- Sir, you! You’re the man from that wall memory!”

“Wall memory?” the man raises an eyebrow at the young engine, confused as to what he means. Though a quick witted crewmember would hurriedly walk over to the man.

“Sir,” the crewmember starts before clearing his throat. “The young rocket, Stephen, meant to say photo.”

“Ah.”

“I apologise sir, we haven’t taught him an abundant amount of phrases up to this point.”

“I see.”

The man said as he gently took off his hat, kneeling down to Stephen’s level with a hard face yet soft gaze towards him.

“So then, tell me, young rocket, how much do you know of me?” He asks curiously.

“I know so much of you! So many stories of you being one of the wisest of engineers in this region, and you’re the one to design me!” 

“Oh really now?”

“Indeed! But then, I don’t know all of it. I don’t know your name.”

This would make the man chuckle softly at the sudden shift of enthusiasm to the cluelessness of the young rocket, his innocence infectious to most of the people in the room with him.

“Well, to introduce myself to a young yet revolutionary creation such as yourself; I am Robert Stephe–”

—-

“Stephen!”

“oH LADY–”

He’d flinch at the familiar yet sudden voice as he nearly slips off the flatbed he’s on, thankfully the ropes and clamps that support him underneath the tarp he’s been covered with would keep such an incident from happening.

As the engine in front of Stephen came to a smooth stop, releasing some steam, he could hear quick footsteps get closer and closer to his vicinity before they came to a stop, the tarp on him being lifted to reveal his face.

“Sir Robert?”

“Stephen, goodness me- Are you sure you’re better off without a soul lock? I understand how some of those locks would’ve brought discomfort to engines, yes, but you’ve been.. You’ve been restless these few days. I think those locks would benefit you with some comfort and rest.

“I say this with full confidence, I’ll be fine without one.”

“You nearly lost your balance while falling asleep, Stephen.”

“Keyword, nearly, I’ll just make sure to not let it happen again.”

Sir Robert sighed, “Alright then Stephen,” he says as he glances at Stephen, letting go of the tarp as it covered Stephen’s face, heading back to the cab of the engine pulling this flatbed.

Feeling his clamps be tightened, his mind would drift off as their journey on the rails continued.

Millie is out at Locomotion’s exhibition this week while he and Glynn are being transported to the NRM, it leaves him worried for Connor and Caitlyn.

From what he knew, they were the ones to take over some of their jobs alongside some of the narrow gauge engines, though knowing those two twins, he knew there would be some struggles.

What if something happened with Connor, say if his anxiety rose up again. Stephen’s noticed how on edge he’s looked the days before this week, though thankfully he hadn’t caused any delays to the express, but he’d guess some of the passengers would like a word with him after the slight turbulence.

And with him handling the main express while Gordon was away, it sure would’ve get to his nerves a bit.

He’d let out a soft sigh as he pushed back those thoughts. He just hopes Caitlyn would keep, as she said one time, ‘help him no matter how much the rails get bumpy.’

“Steph?”

His thoughts would cut off as he heard the call of a familiar voice.

“Yes, Dare?”

“Are you okay?”

“No, no- I’m just making sure.”

“I’m alright, didn’t you hear it earlier?”

“Alright.”

Well.. An awkward silence would fill the atmosphere as the only sounds that came from anyone present would be the chugging of Daire as rays of the sun shined through the tarp covering Stephen, helping him stay awake while he regained his consciousness.

But rather than continuing his last train of thought, his focus would go towards Daire.

Daire was quite the hard worker that one, always on time with his goods and was one of the few engines who got troublesome trucks to cooperate during rough times, was only soft towards those who were close with him. He was the embodiment of that phrase, ‘you respect me and I’ll respect you.’

Well, sort of. His gaze went faint as he recalled those times while he was among the humans, some of those big engines from the north would belittle him every damn chance they got, and it pissed him off thats for sure. It was quite unfair coming from the express engines who apparently were so glamorous, and at the time, were covered in filth and grime.

But in the end, they might’ve got the karma that was heading their way after the Beech-

“Do you ever miss them?” Daire suddenly murmured, breaking the silence.

“Pardon?”

“Do you- Do you ever miss your siblings, Stephen?”

“Well, I wouldn't say I had actual relatives, but I did have colleagues, friends who were like that, so I suppose I do. But I’ve accepted they're most likely in a better place,” Stephen explained with a glance down to his buffers.

“Oh, understandable.”

“Why do you ask?”

Now it was Daire's turn to look down at his buffers.

“Well, nothing.”

Stephen would let out a soft sigh. “Daire, you can say it,” he said as he could spot the silhouette of the Ivatt's through the tarp a little.

“No, no- Fuck it, I miss mine. There.”

“.. I figured.”

Daire would silently cursed himself underneath his breath as his speed starting picking up, trying to push back those thoughts. Though as subtle as it was nearing to be, Stephen would notice it as the wind started to push the tarp, feeling it float from his back buffers a bit, getting a bit concerned for the Ivatt tank engine.

“Look, Daire, no one can blame you for having those thoughts. Some others even went down the slope of insanity from having that happen to them, having to lose their siblings.”

“I know.”

“What I'm saying is; you can talk about it, you can let it out if you need to. It's better to let it out, rather than let it build up pressure until your safety valve bursts.”

“I know,” he croaked out, trying to force out words so as to not be rude, memories flashing through his mind as they came flooding in like a tsunami. Slowly flooding his mind.

As Stephen opened his mouth to continue, he'd pause for a moment. Browsing through his thoughts trying to look for the right words to say.

“If it helps,” he started as he cleared his throat a little. “I had this brother.”

“Really?”

“Yes, his name was Sans Pareli, though we called him Peppermint back then. He was a bit like you, always fidgeting with his wheels the second he woke up then letting it all loose when he got fired up for the day. Him and myself were very close. One could say we were twins, similar to twins.We lived together, in both engine and human lives, always there for eachother.”

“And your point?”

“The Rust had gotten him a decade from now.”  Stephen explained, his voice shockingly straight forward and empty. “Passed peacefully as he passed us his infectious laughter and jokes,” he continued with a crack in his voice.

Daire would be most shocked at this. “God, Stephen I’m so sorry.”

“You shouldn't be sorry, it's alright. ‘Those pricks can't best me at my worst, I'll just haunt them like a ghost for this halloween,’ he said. Even with that, I still grieved for weeks, months. Years.”

“I-”

“But you know what? I let it all out, and afterwards I felt the best I could feel. Like getting up a steep climb then speeding down the slope.”

“Wouldn't engines mock you?” Daire asked out of instinct.

“Well, if they did, it would be on them for being the pricks in that. I would just be grieving. And that means the same for you if engines pick on you for the same thing, your just minding your own business while they keep poking in. They’re the pricks, not you.”

Daire would stare at the rails deep in thought as he rolled across them, taking in the words of Stephen. It- He’s heard some of it before, yes, but it’s just hard to adjust to it. Adjusting to letting out emotions after blocking them out for so long.

There were times during his younger years where when he showed a drop of negative emotions, he’d be locked in a shed with a soul lock while having to struggle with such infectious, drowning emotions.

Unlike most engines in their recent years of life at the time, Daire was left to rot and rust from his emotions. But over time, no one, but himself were the only ones to save him from spiralling into absolute mental madness. Nearly succumbing to the other rust. That wretched rust that took his friends, his siblings away.

But over the years, he gained new friends, both human and engine. New friends that saved him from so many times he couldn’t even count it with blinking, and yet they’d save him a second before blinking!

As Stephen’s words finally sunk in long enough into his mind, he’d look to the orange clouds in the sky.

“Thank you.”

“Pardon?”

“I said thank you, horse, thanks.”

“Ah well, pleasure is mine. You young lads tend to need help, aside from mechanical help.”

“I’m beyond seven decades, Stephen.”

“You all are always youngins to me!”

Daire would chuckle at Stephen’s retort as they glided across the rails, his speed starting to ease down while being kept at a good pace, feeling his fire warm up more. He could feel his crew’s footsteps as they were nearing to the station.

As Sir Robert peeked out the cab, he’d spot a sign, it would read-

“Send a message to them! 30 minutes early, we’ve arrived at Kingfisher Halt!”

[losttranslator]

perceval est un enfant trouvé et arthur est un enfant abandonné

[laggam]

J’ai acheté un pull en brocante à 2€ cet été, j’au réussi à trouver le même mais d’une autre couleur sur Vinted. Ils ont l’air d’exister qu’en deux coloris. Alors maintenant j’hésite à les acheter à nouveau pour les avoir en doubles et donc pouvoir les mettre plus souvent. Y’a que moi comme ça ?

[girafeduvexin]

Laurent Wauquiez qui fait la trend tiktok où tu fais semblant que ton portable se retourne avec une musique triste chépakoi, c'est trop pour moi, venez on dit qu'on est en 2025.

[dazeofcoral]

Pour une pote qui m'a fait comprendre que c'est pas l'évidence même pour les gens ;;; si votre partenaire rp vous sort sur une convo privé qu'il ne faut plus parler à machin ou machin, voire vous l'interdit même en disant que si vous parlez à machin et ben iel ne vous parlera plus..

c'estl'histoire d'un partenariat rp ultra toxique, je m'en fous si vous connaissez bien la personne ou que vous faites de méga rp avec depuis dix ans, c'est ultra toxique de vouloir contrôler les fréquentations des autres en encore plus sur des forums rpg ; ça veut dire entre autre qu'iel ne vous pense pas capable d'avoir un peu de discernement, parce qu'ok qu'on dise de se méfier de quelqu'un, mais c'est pas ok de d'interdire de parler à machin parce qu'on l'aime pas et donc les autres non plus peuvent pas aimer la personne. WTAF.

[proustianlesbian]

je suis très contente de voir anatomie d'une chute avoir de la reconnaissance à l'étranger mais comme j'aime beaucoup swann arlaud depuis plusieurs années et i am not imune to gatekeep, du coup une partie de moi veux moins de popularité mdr (alors que le film la mérite vraiment).

[wengenn]

Hey everyone, guess who got herself in a new fandom ?

Yeah so let me tell you about Le Visiteur du futur.........