#this scans like a shitpost

[humanjeff]

what even is the message here

[elliottjpg]

If you can't buy merch, make your own.

Redraw of the new poster for the upcoming animated adaptation of Ewilan's Quest!!!

[nerdcrawfish]

HEY UH.

You know how when you close your eyes you see black?? Um, TFs have glowing eyes--so would they actually see the lit up backs of their lids?

Or do the eye lights shut off when they close their optics lids like a refrigerator??

does it... does it click??

[akumahoshojo]

Which one you want~?

from the 1993 Akumajou Dracula X: Rondo of Blood Official Guidebook

[tritoch]

me: oh wow an ffxiv theory/meta post! i love these even when i don't agree with them. i wonder if this person will highlight an underdiscussed aspect of the setting, or reframe someone's characterization interestingly the post: "in the original japanese--" me: unsubscribed. blocked. reported. hie thee hence and never darken my door again.

[no1ryomafan]

I mentioned this briefly last night in my last big post so here it is: The Ashe&Grey to Kei&Go parallel meme. I would’ve done a compare and contrast chart instead of listing out all the parallels but last time I did it the resolution was even worse then these 💀 besides just pointing out the similarities is funnier since I’d say overall their vastly different characters- but these baseline similarities I can’t help to notice even if I doubt it was a reference on ZXs part to Armageddon. Moral of the story they'd all be besties probably. (Also I’m going to ramble in the tags once more-)

[celestialsand101]

Top 10 fun surprises for your doctors when you get an MRI!

[flock-of-cassowaries]

There is currently a ‘Spirit Halloween! 👻🧛🏻->’ sign planted in the ground near my friend’s apartment building, with the arrow pointing directly at said apartments.

Neither of us can figure out where the alleged Spirit Halloween location could be, as all the retail in the vicinity is very much occupied.

My hypothesis is that it will be opening in the flat above hers - the one that’s been unoccupied since the it caught fire in the spring.

She tried to assert that Spirits Halloween could only infest empty retail storefronts, but given the facts of the situation, I think we must confront the possibility that the Spirit is evolving; adapting to new habitats.

are you telling me americans have stores that open up SPECIFICALLY for halloween and just. dont exist any other time of the year. you people are insane

[akikos-tribble-army]

Good idea to make a seminar about Cotta, telling everybody to take a look at the Cotta biography which we do have in our university library and then expect everyone to hold presentations about Cotta.

Like sir, we have, in the whole university, 5 editions of that book. We also have bachelor students who maybe need that book, too. Literature students. Like, this book is incredible important for this seminar and none of us will buy it. And the one edition in the main library is already taken and reserved until February. As is the latest edition from 2017. We have two editions left. And since I will need that book for another seminar's presentation in January, too, you can expect that their will be only two editions left and since we have to write research papers, too... Well... I already see myself scan the whole book just in case, because I can't hold onto it that long without the library coming after me.

[dodomedic]

guess what I was offered full time

unfortunately they offer me 26.24 and acted like it was a big deal

I currently work with them at 29.24 when I complained about the low ball offer they said 27.50; "but I'll need training."

the job is the same job I have been doing for two fucking years, the people who deem me untrained aren't people I even work with. Nu-uh I know the moving goal posts, you'll never win. Best to avoid them all together.

I talked to my coworkers they all say just ask for your current per diem rate. which I will do and if they don't take it I'll work PRN again for them, and probably leave for an interventional radiology job since I have two years of experience, and have been self certified in several other modalities. I am CREDIT to team.

I kinda want to do angio now... I have all these credentials and it seems like they don't amount to an actual job.

[sanestlunaticyouevermet]

@robophantom

how am i meant to show my love when i peel an orange but need a shovel to give you a slice

[lesbiansupernatural]

Throwback to the 8th grade when I suddenly got blind spots in my vision, and the entire left side of my body got all tingly and fell asleep. I told my teacher and his response was deadass "okay, if it's still going on at the end of class (an hour away) you can call your mom" (my school was really strict abt phones inside the school building, so I couldn't just text her either)

My mom picked me up and we went straight to the doctor so I could get checked out. Thank GOD it was just a migraine attack, but what the fuck was that teacher on

[easterbonnet]

Never Trust A Wazlib

student!f!reader x prof!remus lupin (everyone of age)

{{ You write a harmless letter to Professor Lupin, but he receives something very different }} PART 2

cw: pure crack shitpost, sexual themes, weasley twin chaos, student x teacher, nsfw language, kinda ron centric, accidental proposition

. . .

"Hey, Ron, have you got a quill I can borrow?" Y/n asked holding out her hand as she sat at one of the wooden tables in the common room, hunched over a pile of school books and a few pieces of ruffled parchment.

The gangly ginger boy chucked her one from where he was sat on the sofa, finding it in the bottom of his bag. The feather was crooked but it seemed to work just fine.

"Thanks" she murmured as she began writing, Ron was already moaning to Harry about all the homework he's got left to do, trying to persuade Hermione to help him.

Y/n's hands clutched the pen as she dipped it into a pot of black ink, leaving her swirly handwriting on the page.

To Professor Lupin,

I've been worried ever since writing my essay, I forgot to add the second paragraph on page three and it's been on my mind. I know this is a big part of my grade, so I want it to be right. Is there any chance I could give you a new copy with it included? Let me know.

Thank you,

Y/n

She placed the quill back down and sealed the ink pot before folding the letter to her professor and placing it inside an envelope with a scarlet wax seal. "Cheers again Ron", she handed the pen back to him after she'd cleaned the nib.

"S'alright", he said, stuffing it back into his messenger bag as Hermione eyed it.

"Isn't that a Spell-Checking Quill?" she asked at a whisper, looking disapprovingly.

Before Y/n could hear the end of their thrilling conversation, she got up out of her chair and dashed out of the portrait at the entrance of the common room.

Her school shoes made hasty work on the flagstones, tapping her foot impatiently whilst she waited for the moving staircases to line up. Once it did, the girl ran down them, heading straight towards the owlery before she'd be classed as a 'student out of bed'. The halls were nearly deserted so she made quick work of it. However, the icy steps up to the top of the west tower slowed her pace, not wanting to slip, she held tightly onto the concrete railings, minding the bird mess.

At last she had arrived, scanning the wing-filled room for a suitable choice, "Hmmm... Swizzle you'll do finely", she gestured for a small, tawny owl to fly over, attaching the letter to its claw-like foot. "I think Lupin is still at Hogwart's somewhere, can you find him?", she asked the bird, it cooed and nibbled her finger. That was a yes. With Lupin being off sick, this was the only way to communicate with him at the moment.

Starting to get a chill to her skin, she watched the owl fly through the open window into the dimming sky.

"Job done", Y/n waltzed back down the staircase, rushing to get back to the Fat Lady before she fell asleep.

. . .

Lying bored and rather ill in his private chamber, on his messy bed, Lupin clutched the mysterious letter that had just been delivered by a rather scrawny owl he didn't recognise. As he removed it from it's beak, the creature fluttered about his face waiting for its payment. Not feeling his best, Remus chucked the bird a treat or two from the bottom of his drawer. "Be away with you", he flicked his wrist, exhausted and a headache coming on.

He recognised the writing on the envelope immediately from all the essays he'd marked, Y/n and her neat handwriting. His eyes bulged however when he began to read it's innings.

At first he thought his eyes must've been deceiving him or perhaps he'd become delirious from the recent transformation, he'd never had this kind of an attention before and didn't know how to respond.

Lupin replied an hour later, not because he had better things to do, but because he'd drafted his response in his mind tens of times after he'd finally gotten over the initial shock. By the time he put pen to paper it was well into the night, scribbling his response in candlelight. He knew it would arrive in the morning and so it read as follows.

Miss Y/l/n,

It seems we have much to discuss, perhaps it would be more convenient for the both of us if that was in person rather than via owl, the one you sent seems rather fond of me however. The bugger won't stop pestering me for treats. I will say I was surprised by the contents of your letter, out of character is the term I'd use, not that my reply is a firm no. If this is something you are unabashedly set on, I'm open to talk on the matter.

See me in my office this evening,

Professor Lupin

The next morning, a cool dusting of sunlight flooded the dormitory window as Y/n rubbed her sleepy eyes and pulled back the curtains surrounding her bed. Before she had time to fully wake, she noticed a small envelope perched on her bedside table. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she frowned as she read it... what did he mean he was surprised?

She often had after lesson chats with him regarding the schoolwork and how she could improve her essays, almost like a tutor as well as a teacher. Just last week in fact, he had recommended her a book from the library that would help greatly in her understanding of extracurricular topics, though not compulsory.

Y/n continued to sit in her bed, confused but somewhat compliant with his reply when suddenly it all clicked as she fiddled with and turned over the letter, seeing he sent his reply on the back of her original parchment.

There in deep, dark ink was something she almost fainted reading.

The first time she read it she was utterly confused, thinking Professor Lupin must have a secret office romance that he'd mistakenly exposed, but the closer she looked, she realised it was her handwriting and suspiciously similar to the structure of the letter she sent.

Staring silently at the wall, looking rather pale, she questioned how this could have happened. The writing was all misconstrued, random and nearly illiterate, but that wasn't the problem she had with it, it was the contents of this letter that could get her expelled!

Retreating into her own mind, Y/n remembered the potions lesson the previous day in which Snape revealed Harry's rather peculiar nickname after he'd passed Ron's advanced potion making book off as his own, in which Ron had written his 'name' with his new Spell-Checking Quill... the very same one she borrowed last night.

To Professor Loony,

I've been wanting to say ever since writing my essay, I fancy you and this sensation pulsing inside of me is photographed through my mind. I know you have a big part, so I want it alright? Is there a chance I could give you a nude copy? Let me blow.

Thinking of you,

Y/n

"Let me blow?!?!!" she whispered to herself, absolutely appalled, rereading what she had supposedly written to none other than her teacher.

Still in her fluffy dressing gown and pigtails, y/n stormed down the stairs into the common room, seeing Ron about to leave for breakfast she sprinted over and yanked at his collar, "RONALD WEASLEY THAT WAS A FAULTY QUILL YOU GAVE ME!!! I HAVE JUST WRITTEN A SEXUAL PROPOSITION TO MY TEACHER", everyone in the common room went silent.

That is, besides the Weasley twins, "Yikes Ron, we thought you threw that thing away", Fred laughed.

"I did!" Ron insisted, starting to connect the dots.

"Did you? Sure about that Roonil Wazlib?" George waggled his brows.

"You git, you didn't-" his face drained almost as much as Y/n's.

Suddenly she recalled Lupin's reply 'I'm open to talk on the matter, it's not a firm no'.

She didn't know whether to be mortified or intrigued, but either way there was no way she could get out of meeting him this evening.

"Crap"

part one . . . part two

[revelboo]

iiiiinch resting that shockwave has these archival records of Ye Ole Cybertronian/Organic Sparkbonds... would wheeljack have something similar on the flipside? maybe optimus, even?? cuz i cant imagine megatron making another "hey dont fuck the wildlife" psa but for lifespans ykwim??? hell, maybe kup, ratchet or ironhide might but im stumped outside of the first two guesses on if any autobots would be able to dig that up

I just like Shockwave knowing all the random, weird stuff- being a bit of a history buff. Optimus might have encountered that information when he was Orion Pax, but likely would have forgotten it by now.

Pretty much my fics are just Primus being so over his awful kids murdering each other for millennia and also wiping out thousands of organic races and worlds as collateral damage in the process that he pulled out the intergalactic get along sweater. You want to repopulate/ save the Cybertronian race from extinction? Now you’re dependent on not murdering this one organic race that might be every bit as awful about murdering each other as you are. Have fun with that.

Megatron Shitpost Pt 2

• Venting tiredly, he knows he doesn’t have that long before a brawl breaks out. Cramming this many Decepticons in one place is exceptionally ill advised, but fear and intimidation are about all that work on this rabble. “Tarantulas, where are the other bugs?” He demands, scanning the crowd. Sees the scientist stiffen, extra limbs flaring out slightly. ‘As I’ve said countless times, I’m not a bug or an Insecticon,’ Tarantulas hisses. Swallowing a growl, he presses a servo against his helm. “Does anyone know where the Insecticons are? Who’s supposed to be watching them?” And the silence that follows the question is no real surprise. Alright. So those cannibals are loose. And the little, accident prone one, what was his name? Waspinator, maybe? “What about that radioactive lunatic?” A lot of silence is his answer. That one he knows was Shockwave’s responsibility. So it’s entirely possible the scientist just turned Sunstorm loose to see what he’d do. Fantastic.

• “I know that some of you have humans or have been interacting with humans despite being told not to,” Megatron continues when no one volunteers any information on Sunstorm. “I want honesty. Everyone who is harboring a human, raise your hand. Don’t make me go check your habsuites.” And Bonecrusher finally raises a hand, but their human he knows about. “If you make me check your habsuites, I’m going to make all of you as miserable as that waste of time will make me.” There. Skywarp, Thundercracker, and- Vortex? Is that human even still alive? Rumble and Frenzy.

• “Anyone else? Alright. See Scrapper about getting modifications made to your habsuites. As for the rest of you, humans aren’t to be harmed. They’re now a protected species. I don’t care if you frag them, but don’t spark bond them. And don’t draw attention to us.” Aware of Swindle cautiously raising a hand, Megatron growls. “No, I’m not elaborating. But since you’re volunteering, you’ve always been good at acquisitions, Swindle. See if you can get your hands on human food stuffs, clothing.” Staring them all down, daring them to question him while he tries to figure out how this has become his life.

[muletia]

PLS PLS PLS PLS

I'M ON MY KNEES

PLEASE MAKE A STORY WHERE Y/N COMES BACK TO THEIR HOUSE, TIRED FROM WORK AND SUDDENLY SEES OPTIMUS AND MEGATRON OILED UP UNDER THEIR CHRISTMAS TREE 🙏🙏🙏

damn, i wish they would spawn under my christmas tree 😔

𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐩 𝐱 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

cw: shitpost, crack, cliffhanger (this is never getting a part 2 btw)

word count: 425

You already knew they had invited themselves into your house. The open garage and the doors ripped off their hinges told you everything. Just like the two voices, perfectly familiar to you, coming from the living room—voices you’re still happy to hear. Despite your exhaustion, despite the overwhelming need to collapse onto your bed and fall into a week-long coma, though knowing your guests, that likely won’t be an option.

You’re expecting a classic greeting: sharp dentae on your neck, gentle servos stroking your hand, apologies for their partner’s lack of tact and directness. But what you find in the living room exceeds all your expectations.

"Greetings, dearest."

"You’re later than usual."

You don’t even register their greetings, your attention entirely focused on the two revered leaders kneeling before your Christmas tree. That in itself wasn’t unusual—you’d seen them in less dignified positions. What struck you the most was the meters of tape adorned with a kitschy Christmas pattern wrapped around them. From their necks to their thighs, it clung haphazardly, betraying their lack of skill in handling the task. They had no clue how to make it look seductive rather than tacky. And maybe you could have bought into it—if not for the red and purple bows affixed to their thighs, dangerously close to their pelvises, on their armor, just under their necks, and smack in the middle of their chassis. To make things even more intriguing: Megatron wore red bows, and Optimus purple.

"How did you… where did you…" you start, but when the silver mech smiles, you abandon the question. "You know what, I don’t even want to know..."

You rub your temples as your brain struggles to catch up, while your eyes continue scanning. Especially their armor, which gleamed exceptionally today, looking pristine. As if it were coated with something…

"Did you two oil yourselves up with something?"

"Merry Christmas, [Name]," Optimus smiles gently. The mech beside him wasn’t nearly as angelically patient.

"Are you going to unwrap your gifts already, or are we going to keep wasting time?"

"You know what, I think I’ll wait until tomorrow," you decide to tease them a bit. Now it’s your turn to smile as you see their confused expressions.

"You wouldn’t dare…" Megatron growls.

He starts to squirm, threatening to snap the cute ribbon.

"Alright, alright, calm down…" you sigh. You’d already said goodbye to the dream of your long-awaited nap.

You walk over to them and begin toying with the bows on their chassis.

"I couldn’t have wished for better Christmas gifts."

[joezworld]

Traintober Day 6 - "The Comedy"

Hey it's Traintober! I have a couple of things written for this - more will be revealed if/when circumstances allow.

This one is just written for me: "What if I re-wrote arguably one of the worst Chris Awdry stories but also made it extremely topical? What's that? It's basically a shitpost?"

Yah anyways this is Drip Tank but it's also not.

Dripping

The Present Day - 2024

“Chaps,” Thomas said one evening as he arrived back at the sheds. “What is ‘the drip,’ and how can someone have it?”

“No.” Percy said firmly. “We’re not doing this again. It was stupid last time and I won’t be made the fool a second time.”

“This week.” Toby murmured under his breath. 

“What was that?” Percy glared. “Was that a constructive comment telling Thomas that we’re not playing dictionary games in public ever again?”

“Thomas, in what context did you hear that?” Toby ignored Percy. 

“I don’t know,” Thomas explained. “It was a group of children standing on the platform.” 

“Oh, so it is like last time!” Percy was irate. “We. Are. Not. Doing. This. Again!”

Thomas ignored him too. “They were talking about someone getting a new jacket, but it didn’t seem to be a bad thing. I think it was a compliment.”

“So it’s a compliment now?” Toby was curious. 

“Maybe.” Thomas looked pensive. “They could have been trying to be mean, but I didn’t get that sense. The boy they were talking about wasn’t even there.”

Percy wondered why he continued to like them all as much as he did. “Just, just, stop, you two. This is idiotic. Just ask the kids in the morning when you take them to school. Then we’ll know.” 

He paused. “Wait. Have Henrietta ask them when you take them to school, Toby. Then we’ll get the actual reason.” 

“I’m taking them in the morning, thanks very much.” Thomas said cheekily. “So I’ll ask.”

“You?! Since when do you take the kids? Since when does he let you?” 

“Since they’re resurfacing the main road tomorrow.” Toby said. “All the children are going by train because the buses are too big for the detour. “Unless you would like to take Henrietta, Victoria, Annie, Clarabel, and one of the big main line through coaches on the first down train tomorrow?” 

Percy quickly backpedaled, much to everyone else’s amusement!

-

The next morning, Thomas scanned the platform for someone he knew. He didn’t have Toby’s encyclopedic knowledge of the line’s children, so he had to wait for someone… there! “Rachel! Rachel Kyndley!”

Rachel Kyndley was definitely too old to count as “children” - she was commuting to the University in Suddery, for goodness’ sake - but Thomas definitely didn’t recognize anybody else.

“What’s up, Tommy?” She said, blissfully unaware of the question she was about to be posed with. 

“Do you know what “drip” is?” Thomas asked innocently. “I’ve been hearing children talk about it, and I don’t know what it means.”

Rachel made a series of facial expressions, before burying her head in her hands. “Who said this to you and why?”

Thomas explained what he’d heard, and Rachel took a long blink. “I’ll be back in one second.” She walked away, towards the carriages. 

A minute later, she came back with a younger boy in a blue satin jacket with “MIGHTY MORPHIN POWER RANGERS” written across the front. “Is this who they were talking about?”

“I believe so,” Thomas said after a moment of thought. “They said his jacket “had the drip,” but I don’t know what that means.”

The younger boy made an indescribable facial expression. “Rachel, I’m not doing this.”

“Yes, you are, Roy McColl.”

“No!”

“This is your fault!”

“Mine?!”

“If you don’t help I’ll tell your sister!”

“And I’ll tell yours!”

The two stared at each other. “Fine!” “Fine!”

The young boy started first. “So, what d’you wanna know, Thomas?”

“What is drip, and how do you have it?” It really was not a difficult question, and if they took much longer they’d be late setting off.

The boy - Roy - took in a deep breath. “It’s my jacket, see? It’s got drip, which means that it looks real fly. I got that rizz right now.”

Rachel looked defeated. “Roy. Think about what you just said.”

“What? It’s the truth, innit?”

“You explained a word that he doesn’t know with two other words that he doesn’t know.”

“He doesn’t know what rizz is?”

“I don’t know what that means!”

“Uhghh, fine.” He thought hard for a second. “Drip is… like when you look real good, innit? Like you’ve got some clothes that look real nice, gives you a bit of a swagger. Fly is sorta the same thing but it’s like what old people say - maybe more good looking and not a swagger thing, understand?”

“If you think that old people say “fly,” you’re going to have a rude awakening in about five years.”

“I thought that only helicopters and airplanes could fly,” Thomas chipped in unhelpfully. “I guess I’ve learned something.”

“Roy…” Rachel glared. 

“Alrigh’ fine!” He recoiled. “So fly and drip mean that you look real nice and fresh. Like, you look good and all that.” He explained again. “You got me?”

“Okay…” Thomas said carefully. “What was that other thing?”

“Am I really gonna tell Thomas the Tank Engine what rizz is?” The boy said quietly. 

“You brought this on yourself…” Rachel said darkly. 

Thomas looked on expectantly. Seeing young people get so flustered about this sort of thing was one of the few perks of getting old. 

“So, rizz is when you got that charisma, that charm, that style. You know, if you ever wanna get with someone, you might wanna rizz them up, be a real gentleman about it.” Roy said it with an ever-increasing look of dread, as though he had never heard the words spoken aloud until they were out of his mouth and unable to be retracted. Rachel Kyndley looked like she wanted to die on the spot. Inside his cab, Thomas’ crew were in hysterics. 

Thomas wasn’t sure if he should be worried or impressed that this explanation made sense. “So, drip and fly are similar in that they mean you look good, and rizz is when you’re particularly charming?” 

A strangled noise from the platform said volumes, and his crew were now bent over in laughter.

“That’s almost -” Whatever Roy was about to say was cut off by the guard’s whistle. “Oh, well looks like I’ve gotta go-” 

“Nope!” Thomas’ driver gasped out between chuckles. “If you don’t get this right now, we’ll never know for certain. Get in here!”

“I don’t think that’s strictly necessary-” Rachel started. 

“You too lassie!” the fireman chortled. “This is the funniest thing I’ve heard all year!”

“I-uh, well-” Rachel hemmed and hawed, wondering if she could do a runner and then call in sick.

“Oh, come on dearie!” Said Clarabel, who had been watching the proceedings with amusement. “We’ve all been so curious!” 

“Oh my god.” she whispered, and followed Roy into the cab with a sense of impending doom.

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

Later

A few days later, Thomas headed off to the works for his annual inspection.

“Nothing’s too wrong,” The manager of the steam shop said as he went over the list. “We do want to get you in for a new coat o’ paint, though. Starting to look a little tatty ‘round the corners.”

Thomas was not one to turn down a new coat of paint, and so a few hours later he was being sanded and stripped of his old paint, ready for the new coat. In the corner of the paint shop, a few of the workers were hunched over an old Ford Anglia, polishing it to a strangely-sparkling finish. 

“Allrighty,” the paint shop foreman said, entering the room with a few swatches of paint. “We’ve got some new variations on the old blue and red. See, this one is going to show up much better in bright sunlight, while this one is - well, we’ve managed to get a hold of the retro-reflective stuff that they put on road signs; might make you a touch easier to see in the dark, if we do the red lining with it.”

Thomas looked at the samples, before turning his attention to the car in the corner. “What are they doing with that?” he asked. “It’s so… sparkly.”

“Oh that?” The foreman said. “It’s someone’s project. I think they’re mixing in pearl with some metallic blue. Really makes it shine, doesn’t it?”

It was shiny even from across the room, and Thomas felt an instant, impulsive attraction to it. “Can you do that to me?”

The man was taken slightly aback, but nodded. “Sure we can, but, are you sure? It’s not exactly something that you can take off once the novelty wears off.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine!” 

---------

Later still

A day later, they rolled Thomas out of the paint shop to a flurry of camera shutter noises. The paint shop crew had jumped at the chance to “tweak” Thomas’ paint, and he sparkled in the sun like a pearlescent gemstone. 

The younger members of staff were especially pleased. Most of the time they had to work within the constraints of “history,” and “tradition,” and “but I’ve always been this colour,” so seeing their creativity on full display was very rewarding. 

“Wow,” Thomas said as he inspected a picture of himself. “I look great!”

“You really do, mate.” One of the painters said as he took a selfie. “We gotta see if we can get Gordon or someone to do this.”

“Oh, he’ll never go for it,” Thomas rolled his eyes. “I don’t think he could handle this level of drip.”

Dead silence followed this. 

“What?” Thomas looked around. “Did I say it wrong?”

“No, and that’s the scary thing.”

--------

Later still

Thomas’ new paint was the talk of the Island for several days. Most of the opinions were positive, however some engines had a less-than-complementary view on the situation…

“Who does he think he is?” James grumbled to nobody in particular at the big station. “Gallivanting around in this shiny paint like that, it’s likely to cause an accident!” 

Gordon, at the next platform, raised an eyebrow that said volumes, but otherwise stilled his tongue. 

“Oh please!” Tornado said from the platform on the other side of James. “He looks so good in that paint. I’d say that you’re just jealous.” 

“Jealous? Me?” James retorted at a suspiciously high pitch. “I’m just pointing out the obvious here! If everybody keeps looking at him they’re bound to run into something sooner or later!”

“And it’ll be worth it…” Tornado whispered in a sing-song voice, leading her crew to roll their eyes in unison. 

“Don’t mind her,” Said the driver, who Gordon idly noted was one of the youngest girls he’d ever seen on the footplate. “She’s just blinded by Thomas’ incredible drip.”

“Completely rizzed up.” agreed the fireman, who looked like a child. “Totes delulu.”

“Mood.”

Any further conversation was cut off as the signal dropped, and Tornado steamed away, lost in her own imagination. 

James continued on indignantly. “And that’s another thing! People just keep saying things about him like they’re supposed to make sense!”

Gordon looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “Nobody will tell you what any of it means, will they?”

“No!” James wailed. “And I have no idea why!” 

“One wonders…” Gordon said snidely. 

“Oh, as if you know what an “on point drip” is!” 

“I have better things to worry about than the idle slang of children.”

“Oh, so they won’t tell you either!”

“I never said that!”

“Oh really? Then please, professor, educate me on what drip could mean in relation to Thomas! Has he sprung a leak?!”

Just then, Edward emerged from under the station canopy, and drew up to the signals. “What, Thomas?” He said conversationally. “Personally, I think he looks fly as hell, but then again I’m a boomer, so I could be tripping.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but the signal dropped. “Ah well, gotta bounce, TTYL!”

And he puffed away, grinning widely. 

Gordon and James took about three seconds to process that. 

“Edward, who taught you those words?”

“Edward! Get back here and tell me what that means! EDWARD!”