#rook 141

[sodorsteam]

"Driver said that i could be painted with...'Glow In The Dark' paint...oh i am terribly excited U uU"

a lil' somethin' for the 11th day of October, specially for the OG Funeral Baby himself, Rook!

[engineer-gunzelpunk]

Have a Creepy Christmas (PS: Snitches Get Stitches and Crucifixions)

My two railbastards celebrating with @sodorsteam’s Rook as Christmas critters,.. Rook as La Befana, the Christmas Witch from Italy; Harry as Krampus and Hen as the Laair Vane, the White Mare, the Isle of Man’s version of Mari Lwyd. Harry’s wasted, Hen unfortunately spooked the wrong person and Rook is tapping out!

[uselessalexis165]

Y’know what? Fuck it! Puts these three in fun little outfits

———

S: Like I said: society is hanging by a fucking thread. Be lucky you two missed most of this shit.

T: I…I see your point.

———

@sodorsteam @gone-fishing-engines I thought it would be fun to put these three in some cute little outfits 🚂 💜🖤🤎

[blingblong55]

Things said-141(and some more characters)

If you watched Ja'mie the private school girl I love you!

Pt2 to this post

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

R/n and ghost have a friendship where they basically share 1 brain cell every time they're together, this time its no different. They call for a meeting where they share their recent topic, basically 141 is forced to agree with their 'beliefs'

R/n: we'll be there for each other, like if one of us *nudges at ghost* got depression and wanted to k!ll themselves..

Ghost: then we as part of the 141 slayers promise, (name reader gave the team) we'll kill ourselves

R/n: yeah

Gaz: I didn't know it was that extreme

R/n: yeah it is

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Soap: where the fuck is my Coke Zero?

R/n and Ghost stare in silence

Soap to König: did you drink it?

*soap closes fridge and walks away*

Soap: fuck my life

König *clueless*: I ate a bread this mornin' it was amazing (please imagine him in his funny excited accent)

R/n: you're unique König

Soap: don't touch my Coke Zero! *in his harsh Scott accent*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Price, soap and r/n are having a meeting in private. Soap logged in to readers laptop and saw a folder with pictures of gaz. (Folders title was: "My pookie bear")

R/n: how did you even get in?

Soap: isn't your password, gazmylover69?

R/n: little bitch

Price: r/n *in a stern tone*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Price found out that r/n was trying to sell König on eBay for 14£, and Ghost was the buyer.

Price: the two of you are just as bad as each other, I'm disgusted

Ghost: good

R/n: *under their breath* next time I'll sell you

König is sitting outside waiting for the mailman

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Roach is now in charge of teaching r/n how to drive, this is after they 'accidentally' ran soap over. (he called r/n a little brit that looked like King Charles left butt cheek)

Gaz, Ghost, and alejandro are in the backseat. Roach, passenger and r/n driver seat.

R/n: why isn't the car moving?

Roach: because the hand brake is still on

R/n: well take the hand brake off!!....

Roach: r/n-

R/n: I told you to take it off before I get in!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Soap was named "best soldier of the week" this includes a medal price custom made. R/n is pissed that he got it.

R/n: what I'm accusing you of is awarding the medal to a dumb fat Scott,

price: here we go again*under his breath*

r/n: when the most incredible soldier to ever grace this base, is being completely ignored

price: roll the tears *under his breath*

r/n: and treated like their the scum of the earth!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Rudy and r/n grew up together. But after he told them they weren't allowed to date anyone from 141 they got mad at him.

Rudy: no, its a final decision

r/n: just because Valeria ditched you for ale back in the day doesn't mean I can't get some

Rudy: you're just saying none sense

r/n: nonsense my ass

Rudy: no dating, no nothing

R/n: I wished I fucking drowned you as a child

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It's no secret that König is crushing on r/n. However the feelings aren't mutual, because reader adores Price. This happened today after sparring.

R/n and König are sat in some stairs, resting from todays training.

König and reader are sitting side by side, he leaned in to kiss their cheek, this was the reaction he got:

R/n: okay..okay..so that was weird...

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Soap is helping r/n, they've been feeling a little low today. He was sitting in bed with them. Reader has been under their blanket all day

R/n: pass me my book please

Soap tries to give them their book but teases reader in the process. Reader is trying to reach for it but soap is really enjoying himself.

R/n: give me it! I've got clinical depression you fucking idiot!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I hope you all liked this one! and yes it was all inspired by that show. If you want a part to lmk! ?<3

Tags: @piece-of-shit-outlaw

[ohjeeztrains]

Behold, a man!! Here's my side of the trade I did for @sodorsteam! It's always a joy to draw Rook

[bladexjester]

Rook ( monster form) 💜💀💜💀

(Decided to draw this boi again, this time in his monster form)

Rook belongs to @sodorsteam

[ulcus88]

BrUh,Do I have to create my own oc to not continue drawing other people's?

nE.

the wonderful rook belongs to @sodorsteam

[biggsodorcitystories]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @sodorsteam

A birthday gift for the wonderful @sodorsteam

Inspired by our awedome musing on Discord, I drew Rook the Funeral Engine, Sodorsteam's adored eldritch creation and unofficial muse to a select corner of the TTTE fandom, with my design for Peter Sam (who we both agreed would become accidental besties), sharing gossip and delicious cake.

Although Rook isn't quite convinced that Peter Sam isn't pulling his leg with this one!

[sodorsteam]

@engineer-gunzelpunk ...

"Oh sir...oh. i do believe you are mistaken..."

[sodorsteam]

a lil' bit of Christmas Cheer! he needed a big cup of it, and now he's Reaping the Merry Rewards!

Merry Crimbles!

[engineer-gunzelpunk]

Railway Yards With Chaotic Auras

This picture of H220 exiting the Newport Erecting Shop sometime around late Jan/early Feb of 1941 has kind of a ‘Railway Series’ vibe to it. A bit of ‘confusion and delay’, maybe?

@sodorsteam’s Rook is the face model for that domeless sad D2 on the right!

[uselessalexis165]

Reactions

———

R: Oh, my word!

T: Oh, my stars!

S: Holy fucking shit! What? Too much of a reaction??

———

@sodorsteam @gone-fishing-engines Since Rook and Theodore both speak very politely, if a situation were to happen, I can see them both having much more tamed, or less vulgar reactions. And then you have Sparks who will react vulgarly to the situation for them 🚂🖤🤎💜

[ohjeeztrains]

*Looks at Theo x Rook* "Aww it's so cute!" ... ... "What if I throw in my bull man into the mix"

Theo belongs to @gone-fishing-engines and Rook belongs to @sodorsteam Maximus is very awkward with romance and affection in general, hell he probably shows affection by licking

[charliemwrites]

Part 11!!

Sorry this took so long (and that it’s a bit short) I have trouble with scene switching sometimes, and it makes me cut up the story into pieces.

No Content Warnings For This Chapter

Somewhere between your pride and the numbing passage of time lies the way you really feel about the 141. It's undeniable that you're still deeply hurt by what transpired; a chronic ache like a mended bone, only noticeable in the cold, or when you sleep on it wrong. For them, it was easy to reach inside your chest to extract your heart, sternum soft and malleable. It was harder with SpecGru, the bone grew back harder, thicker. You had to crack your ribs open and scraped the chambers on bone shards, but at least they stopped the bleeding.

You don’t miss the 141, not really. It wasn’t just those final, brutal days spent lying alone in a hospital bed that filled those transfer papers. The culprit had been the time that isolation had afforded, to think more deeply, to analyze your position through a less-optimistic lense. Those last conversations had just been your signature on the line.

You don’t blame the gun for firing, you blame whoever pulled the trigger.

Bitterness seeps onto your tongue sometimes. Masochistically, you let it linger. It has no purpose but to raise your hackles and press on that knitted spot until it bruises. It’s your pride, that’s all, lamenting the blood you chose to spill in sacrifice only to have it wasted.

The present is a much sweeter wash for the taste of the past, sticking to your lips and curling your tongue. Honey-balm for resentment, syrup cutting through salt. You focus on the flavor as you stride into the briefing room.

Your captain is already there, a sly smirk for the flush to your faces as Nova follows you in. He’s speaking to Laswell, arms crossed but shoulders relaxed.

Nikto is leaned up against the wall, a shadow without anyone to cast it. He comes to you and Nova as you take seats, angled to face the only exit. He knee presses to yours as you settle in, eyes flicking around.

Nostalgia is a complicated tide rising and ebbing around your ankles. Memories of your time with the 141 in this very room, planning and strategizing, learning where to support your teammates and where they would support you. Jokes made with Soap and Gaz, loaded glances between you and Ghost, a reassuring nod or shoulder squeeze from Price.

That, you think, is where the ache is. Not in missing those moments; you have them with SpecGru now, and without that lingering sense that you don’t quite belong. But in those rose-tinted relationships you’ll never get back (and know you don’t really want again.)

It was never as good as it is with your team now; they were still the team you thought you belonged with. You’ve learned better since but that doesn’t appease the naive 141 operative that put everything into those four.

Your captain has taken the seat you used to have, and he belongs there, a buffer between his team and theirs. You press your thumb to one of the bruises he left on your thigh and settle in.

“Sunshine,” Keegan greets, brushing his knuckles over Nova’s cheek. “Sweets.”

You tilt your chin welcomingly as he nuzzles his nose against your temple, fabric of his mask itching along your jaw.

“Smell good,” he rumbles, low. Just for you and Nova.

“That’s what happens when you shower,” you answer, playing dismissive.

“You should try it sometime,” Nova adds, smirking.

“Only if you join me,” Keegan coos, drawing a spare chair up close. For as tough and distant as he is towards others, he’s long opened his ribs for you and the rest of SpecGru to crawl inside. You admire it now for as much as you distrusted it then.

“Too late,” you say, sharing a look with Nova, “already helped her wash up for the day.”

She whacks you in the knee, startling a laugh out of you. Keegan scoffs, throwing an arm across the back of your chair.

“Nothin’ says we can’t take another,” he drawls, “if I get you dirty enough.”

Beside you, Nikto snorts. Keegan shoots him a teasing look, arching his eyebrows invitingly. The captain is watching, as always, pride and affection smoldering in coal-dark eyes.

And you’re right where you’re meant to be. With them, always with them.

At the front of the room, Laswell politely clears her throat. All eyes turn to her - though you only just notice that the 141 has filed in, perched on the other end of the briefing table, a collective storm cloud.

Laswell kicks off the meeting with a recap of the ongoing mission - basics that all of you read in the docket before shipping out. It’s a big operation, delicate due to hostages. The 141 needed manpower with comparable skills; enter SpecGru.

“One of our best specialists has patched in to explain the parameters in greater detail.”

The big screen at the front of the room lights up. A familiar puff of curly blond hair and green eyes blink into view.

“Gooooood mornin’! Or is it evening? Either way, I hope it’s good.”

Your captain lets out a long breath, trying (and mostly failing) to hide his amusement.

“This is Duke,” Laswell says for the 141’s benefit. “She’s one of our best technicians. I put her on this assignment when I reached out to SoecGru.”

“And you should be glad she did!” Duke chimes in. Her tongue flashes blue as she speaks, and it’s not just the light of the computers surrounding her. Her love of raspberry candies is practically a calling card. “They’re actually pretty decent at keeping communications to a minimum, but porn bots always get ‘em.”

The captain sighs, running a hand down his face. Nova pats his arm sympathetically. Poor guy.

“Anyway! I have their plans for the hostages all drawn up - check this out.”

One loud click of her mouse and the screen flicks to a map with colored circles and wiggly lines. Locations and routes, with little time stamps above each.

“They plan on taking the hostages in waves. If one transport goes down going in or out, they can cut their losses. Lucky for us, they’re super dumb, so I’ve found a 12 minute window where all their teams are out in the open.”

Another image, the transport routes now sporting little icons of angry faces with their tongues sticking out. They're all at various distances along their colored paths, but none of them have made it to whatever the destination is.

“If they’re hit all at once, no group will have time to warn the others,” Duke explains. “Hostages safe, bad guys caught, we all go home and pet our dogs.”

She babbles through the rest of the plan in that controlled chaos way she has, concise and insightful around a casual tone more fitting a high school presentation. The building where the hostages will be taken, every route, down to the vehicles and guns the terrorists will have.

Eventually, she runs out of pertinent information, there are no questions because she’s covered just about everything short of the humidity. Her face pops up on screen again, eyes always a bit glassy from staring at screens too long without blinking. “Lastly, don’t get shot, or I’m telling ma.”

Your captain huffs, that grin finally cracking across his solemn face.

“Do that ‘n I’ll tell her you drop f-bombs like it’s your job,” he replies.

Her mouth drops open in outrage. “It is my job!”

“Yeah? How about that stipend, huh? How much’a that ‘s going to your candy habit?”

Duke’s face flushes, but she’s got that wide smile beamed up to eleven. “Your girlfriend likes me better,” she sing-songs.

He snorts. “Which one?”

“Both,” you and Nova answer at the same time.

Her eyes narrow smugly before she signs off with a little finger wave and a “toodaloo!”

“Your sister, I take it?” Price drawls in the characteristic silence of Duke’s absence.

Your captain shoots him a sideways look. “What, you can’t see the resemblance?” he replies, dry as desert.

You cough into your arm to hide your giggles but Nova isn’t nearly as polite.

As you’re filing out with the rest of the team, you’re surprised that there aren’t calls from your former team. No overtures to justify themselves or half-assed apologies that still somehow make it sound like everything was your fault. You’re almost tempted to check over your shoulder, but you won’t give them the satisfaction of seeming interested. You just don’t trust the sudden silence, even if the captain alluded that there’s some sort of ceasefire in place. You’ve never known the 141 to bend knee to anyone but their own.

A glance at your captain and he’s noticed it too, satisfaction flicking across his face before he catches your eye. He jerks his head. You follow him back to his room, leaning your shoulder in the doorway as he loosens his belt.

“Talked to Price,” he begins.

You arch your brows. “And?”

He blows out a sigh, hands on his hips. “And he wants to talk to you. Him and the rest of the team.”

You groan. “About what?”

He shrugs. “Hell if I know, it wasn’t exactly circle time, doll.”

You roll your eyes. Those useless, cryptic…

“Hey.”

You blink, face going hot when you see the stern look on your captain’s face. Whoops.

“Sorry, sir,” you say. “That wasn’t meant to be at you, I’m just so fucking… ugh.”

“Look, I got ‘em off your back during working hours, but anytime after is outta my hands.”

You puff up, annoyed all over again with the whole situation. It couldn’t be enough for them to ostracize you back then, or try to distract you on-duty now, derailing drills. No, they want your free time too.

“I’m not gonna tell you how to handle this, alright? But maybe getting some of this shit off your chest will do you some good. Let ‘em blow smoke, say whatever you gotta say, and put all this to rest.”

You deflate, giving him a weary scowl that does nothing to deter him from closing the distance. (Not that you wanted it to.)

“Isn’t that telling me what to do?” you mumble, letting your forehead thunk against his broad chest.

“Nah, if I was tellin’ you what to do, you’d be doin’ it,” he chuckles. “If you don’t want nothin’ to do with ‘em, you can spend every night in here for all I care. Up to you.”

You’re only putting up resistance because you know he’s right, it’s just not what you want. It’s easier and simpler to be pissed off and short-tempered with the 141. Safer, in a way.

But there’s no getting any safer, in any sense of the word. Worst thing any of them can say is something you already know, or something that isn’t true. You’ve got your own team for support regardless.

“I hate when you’re right,” you grump.

He smooths a hand through your hair. “If that were true, you’d hate me all the time.”

You nip him in retaliation; he tugs a lock of hair for the trouble.

This is home, you think. Your captain. Nova, Nikto, Keegan. Doesn’t matter where in the world you are, they’re your present and your future. Knowing that, the pain and uncertainty of the past are just ghosts. It’s time to put them to rest like one.

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[sodorsteam]

“oh….yes lovely <3”

(Art by IlliminaughtyArt!)

The London Necropolis Railway, Westminster Bridge Road Entrance. 

[sodorsteam]

Black cats have the lowest adoption rate of all domestic felines, at only 10%.

Remember! Adopt, don't shop, and always give a lucky black cat a little love, especially during Halloween!