#nigel wavering

[podcastbrainrotdad]

It's April 12th, say happy wedding anniversary to Mayor Desmond Desmond and Reverend Nigel Wavering .

#wooden overcoats podcast #wooden overcoats #mayor desmond desmond #nigel wavering #podcasts #fiction podcast

[soledadcatalina]

[id: 20 coloured portraits of various characters in the cast of wooden overcoats in rows of 4. from left to right, top down are as featured: (row 1 start) rudyard funn, antigone funn, georgie crusoe, eric chapman (row 2 start) reverend nigel wavering, mayor desmond desmond, nana crusoe, jennifer delacroix, (row 3 start) dr. henry edgeware, agatha doyle, sid marlowe, petunia bloom (row 4 start) lady vivienne templar, marlena magdalena, bijou, seymour prophitte, (row 5 start) herbert cough, mrs. scruple, tanya, and bill. /end id]

this post but remastered in colour + some new buds i added later. i haven’t really joined a podcast fandom until i attempt to draw as many names to faces as i can lol. also apologies to people who are super organized taggers lol

#wooden overcoats #acessible fanart #casetrippy does art #image description #rudyard funn #antigone funn #georgie crusoe #eric chapman #nigel wavering #desmond desmond #nana crusoe #jennifer delacroix #henry edgeware #agatha doyle #sid marlowe #petunia bloom #lady templar #marlene magdalena #bijou #seymour prophitte #herbert cough #mrs scruple #tanya wo #bill wo #you know the experience of lining up and organizing your toys for fun #making a big reference sheet has a same effect for me

[boughs-of-hollis]

made quiz, take it at ur own risk

i just finished listening and i needed to get this out

#wooden overcoats #wo #podcast #Rudyard funn #antigone funn #georgie crusoe #eric chapman #nigel wavering #mayor desmond desmond

[yoshimickster]

I like to headcanon Desmond Desmond as gay, and Nigel Waverling as either bi/pan or just a lover of naughtiness, valid either way I'd say!

#nigel wavering #desmond desmond #wooden overcoats

[desertflowerbowling]

I have to say, of all the surprising and hilarious plotlines in wooden overcoats, the only one that completely blindsided me was the reverend and the mayor’s romance.

#i was NOT ready for that one lmao i spit out my water when they mentioned going on a date #and every time them being a couple is mentioned i still have a moment of ??? #but honestly good for them i hope they’re happy together #wooden overcoats #Kepler rambles #nigel wavering #desmond desmond #is that their names? they’re just the mayor and the reverend in my head

[imgonnagetkilledbynutstink]

I wanna draw nigel and desmond like this

#desmond is the little guy #wooden overcoats #nigel wavering #desmond desmond

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty. Ch. 7

A Homelander X F! Reader/dadlander fanfic

A/N: if ya like to be included in the taglist plz leave a request comment, prev. chapters can be found in my pin post and the link below... i'll be updating my pin post after chapter 8 or 9 so they're not so scattered-- thanks to all readers hope y'all like it. I have officially finished writing this story so I should be posting them more regularly.

tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, OC characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance, toxic relationship... a bit of spicy in this chapter.

Chapter Seven

Sharp.

One of the men who looked to be a scientist– and who seemed completely detached from the situation, caught your attention.

“The V. Homelander.” he said, hiding his irritation poorly.

“The kid returned them to me. I left them at the gymnasium. Dropped some. The matter is sorted.” He spat, not giving him a second look, his gaze solely focused on you.

The man swallowed heavily slowly turning towards you, as you stared blankly back at him you noticed the chubby man had been carrying your daughter's sparkly backpack.

“Your daughter. I need to speak to her.” He said hastily.

“You don’t need to” Homelander blocked his vision, standing between you two enraged that he wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Is… Is okay…” Your hands were shaking as you pushed him out the way– my daughter did something really wrong…” You turned to Nigel, your voice wavering as you tried to muster the courage to speak– I am so sorry… I… I’m sorry” You choked.

You had no choice but to take her out of Vought, you knew you could never dream of paying off whatever damages your daughter had incurred on your name, V had to cost a couple hundred-thousands to millions if you had to take a guess, and whatever strange feelings you had a second ago were buried deep with the violent onslaught of anxiety assaulting you– you knew you would be back on the streets if not in jail by the end of the week.

You clutched at your hands feeling your whole body trembling, a sudden jolt traversing across your body as Homelander wrapped an arm across your shoulders trying to contain your relentless shivering, his far away voice told you to take a deep breath, whispering to you words that your ears didn’t quite catch, patiently instructing you to tranquilize to no avail.

“Your daughter, she wrote this.”

The man mustered all his bravery to take a notepad out of her backpack and approach you with it not caring that Homelander was holding you posessively, you looked up towards the item, taking it in your hand– lots of formulas and calculations, her handwriting blocky and messy, but every page was filled with more and more things that you could frankly not decipher– it might as well been hieroglyphics.

“Sorry I don’t understand this.” You were hesitant to hand it back.

“Your daughter managed to do this!.” He went to a particular page of the pad, flicking it in your hands– this… this is a revised version of a new product we had been developing… a new version of V… Your daughter is not in trouble… quite the opposite we would like to extend an olive branch– am so sorry security handled this so poorly.”

Both you and Homelander had matching expressions, both confused as to these sudden changes.

Nigel gasped in relief as Elmo came running towards his father dragging Helena behind him. The man could have hit the child if you weren’t there, he took his son in one swift sweep, holding him tight trying not to sound upset as he kissed him, looking down to find Helena panting behind, the kid hugged his father but didn’t cry–  simply turning to see if Helena was still there.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She replied before the kid rolled his eyes– those guns were loaded y’know.”

“Won’t hurt me” The kid muttered– hurt you lots tho.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, before finally acknowledging your existence. Peeking at the mess around her and the decapitated head on the other end of the hallway that Elmo completely ignored, she bit her cheek letting a loud ‘Tch’ spit out.

“Before you scream at me– The chump had nothing to do with it, I simply asked for his services in exchange for candy. Second…” A bubble pop above her hand dropping a half-used vial of Compound V– here” She threw at the scientist.

“Is almost empty!”

“I used it, duh” She wasn’t apologetic in the least– now you can scream at me.” she gestures to you to procceed.

You dropped on your knees pulling her into your arms in a vicious and desperate embrace, your heart beating so hard she could feel it thumping against her white sweater, you tried not looking at the empty stare of the decapitated head on the other side of the hall… it was your fault that man had died, you thought. Yet you were glad Homelander had killed him. Glad he had done one right thing for her.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.” Homelander said without actually caring, he was glad to see her unharmed, seeking for any scuff marks or bruises with his X-Ray vision.

Your daughter looked at the scientist then at her belongings.

“I fixed it… your C.V24… in theory of course. Technically you were on the right track with V25 but my formula should reduce the side effects by 76% percent not 67%… would be down to 85% if I had more time.” She strokes your back in circular motions to fake reassurance– sorry for acting like a kid… I did a stupid.”

The man clenched his jaw then looked back at the notes, the formula in theory could be the pathway to finding a solution to all their troubles, Homelander mouth dropping in disbelief.

“What do you mean you fixed it?” He asked.

“Your original formula is a death trap… a shit dilution of V– all bark no bite… your stabilizing was the issue… V is a beast with a mind of its own… even your current serum is a mess… you could even program it to dictate a power if your men used their brains for once– so I decided to do that… now Elmo can fly.”

Nigel's eyes widened.

“You… You experimented on your friend?” You asked, your voice scratchy and hoarse.

Your daughter's eyes blip blue as she gives you a discomforting smile, you didn’t know if you should hold her or take a step away.

“I was thinking of administering the new serum as a pill or like an LSD sticker.” She wriggled away from you and towards Elmo as his father took a step away from those shimmering blue eyes– show him Elmo.”

Elmo nodded obediently with a light push he wiggled upwards and floated close to the ceiling.

“I was aiming for laser or pyrokinesis but again I only had a couple weeks to come out with the formulas… had I had more time.” she grumbled.

“You gave him V25?” Homelander asked, plucking the kid by the leg down to eye level– how…?”

“Nah I gave him my new V serum… I gave it to him like two hours ago… I was working on the V.C 26 on paper but I was messing with V… altho if the mices I worked with are any indication– he might still explode in three hours give or take”

Her nonchalant tone was matched by a small kid who seemed far too exhausted with her, Elmo dropped to the ground. Homelander was mostly in awe that the kid could fly after only two hours and based on her heartbeat she wasn’t telling the truth entirely, but he kept it to himself for the moment.

“He could explode! You could’ve killed him already!” The scientist spoke on your behalf looking at the child horrified.

“Maybe you should’ve kept him in the labs instead of dragging us here… bit rich for you to care considering you experiment on people all the time without their consent…. Sage Grove, Elmira… Godolkin… should I keep going? Great timing to grow a conscience, clown.” 

She took her bag off his hands, and her pad.

“Left you a sample if you'd like to test it out… hope you copied it because I ain’t giving it to you for free”

“That’s Vought property!” He tried taking the notepad from her hand, she jumped back lifting her chin for a thick invisible wall to divide the space– you little–

An invisible force maneuvers him flat against the wall, his cheeks pressed comically against the translucent sheet.

“Am I in trouble?” She looked at her father.

“Can you squeeze him flat?” He asked, looking curiously at the scene.

“Can hold back a thousand gallons… what do you think?” 

“Let him go. Get the kid under observation and let’s see what this nerd wants.” He said with a jovial tone.

It was like a scene of a bad movie, you were simply forced to watch as they both bonded over their mutual awfulness– the rest of the evening became a blur, your body had moved but you weren’t piloting it, sounds measly echoes as you followed them around, occasionally catching Nigel and now presumably his husband Sven talking as he had joined the party by the time you noticed you had arrived in the labs… unsure when/how you got here.

Your body observed as Helena dragged the scientist and now a small posse of coated men to discuss her work, you left to sit alone in one of the rooms.

The lights were low, and at some stage Homelander had come in– it was painfully silent until he arrived, but you were just there, half-alive.

“What are you looking at?” Homelander said in a hushed voice as he touched you with a naked hand– can you tell me?”

“There’s a scratch on that metal panel” your voice is so quiet it scares him slightly.

His hand was so light on your shoulder, as if it was hovering instead of being there, he took a chair and pushed it to your side, you both sat together as you scrunched up his cape once he offered you the tip, your hands unconsciously picking up the fabric– the texture like thick culderog.

“We took the kid to Disneyland then the kid acted like they were at Disneyland and we got upset about it.” He said, Homelander’s hand atop of yours as you fidgeted– is okay, daddy has taken care of it, you are not in trouble, baby.” his voice was slightly mocking but it was trying to crack a bad joke– not to insult you.

He leaned against you, feeling the sharp metal edges of his eagles against your shoulders. You started to blink harshly trying to push away the fog with this discomfort, his arm on your hip as he rested his chin atop of your head– he was pulling you into a side-hug, meeting no resistance to his surprise.

“You don’t have to worry 'bout anything.” His voice is warm– am a hero, remember?”

“That kid is going to die…” you whimpered.

“Elmo Cripple is perfectly fine.”

“She didn’t care.” Your voice, starting to crack once again.

“She’s a very confident young lady.” he grimaces– a tad too confident if I say so myself… but you should hear her talking to those guys right now, is incre— I have no idea what she’s saying.”

“Welcome to my life” You nuzzled yourself against him, he was so warm, you could remember the heat– I… I don’t know what I am going to do with her?” You sobbed lightly.

“Let her pursue her dreams while supervised so we don’t have to deal with potential murder charges.”

He tried to make you laugh with his tone but all you could muster was staring back at him with a furrowed brow, your tears staining your cheeks already.

“‘Phantasma and Poltergeist’ I don’t how I feel about our kid being in a team-up… even if the competition isn’t steep– It’ll get difficult as she gets older but then again I don’t want Ryan to compete directly with her for the spotlight, its two different markets with completely different appeals.”

“I don’t want to talk about her being a superhero when we haven’t even handled this…” you said, holding back a sob, trying to clean your face against him.

“... ‘we’?” His hands gave your side a squeeze as his other took your hands more gently making sure to rub your dried knuckles– I think we can handle this, Y/N… we can keep a short leash on her… from now on– rely on me… you deserve that."

Staring back at her happily explaining her process, enjoying seeing the group of Phds feelings of inferiority coloring their faces, it was obvious that she shouldn’t even be in the 10th grade, simply staying behind for your well-being, but just how big was her IQ– how much more smarter was she? 

Homelander wanted to see his bouquet of peonies set as the centerpiece she was meant to be, to let her shine as she deserved.

You pulled on his wrist wanting to be held more, it didn’t matter if it was your shitty ex-boyfriend or not, you wanted affectioness, longing for empathy and gentleness.

You already had been kissing– in public no less! He had plans of holding you hostage until you agreed to play house with him, Homelander already testing the waters by making your children play together. Maybe it was your survival mechanism ill-timing but your mind desperately demanded a distraction, your lips were still able to taste peppermint, so your mind wandered south– possibly because that golden belt buckle was perfectly in your sight.

Frankly the last time you had a date was when Helena was five, they were cute, visited Lucci a couple times before asking for your number, the dates were great and the last time you had sex was with this guy before he dumped you, you thought they’ve potential and your wrist had taken enough abuse over the years– if anything you had given up your womanhood, too tired and focused with rearing lil’ Einstein to notice your needs, sleeping with this cutie wasn’t terrible but the moment the word “Freak” was uttered in reference to your kid– you were throwing their shit out the window. 

For the first time since she was born you found yourself not alone and supported, your friends had seen you like you carrier of pestilence affecting their jobs by virtue of association, your inability to find employment quickly burdened your friends and relatives, your family and yourself had not seen eye-to-eye for years, your relationship cracking deep enough to touch the abyss once you came home pregnant with no man behind you, then it was out the door after a couple weeks, even the kid didn’t appease them later down the track.

Could he really be relied on? Money was but a gesture of good will– covering for your kid for stealing maybe millions of dollars of god’s own spunk, and potentially getting your daughter acquitted for murder. Now that might be worth a blowie.

And he hurt your jaw quite graciously.

You looked up straight into his face, he had been talking for god knows how long without you noticing, and took his face.

Tasting like spearmint and iron, he was hesitant at first unsure if the timing was good but quickly relented as your tongue got more demanding, his hands now had no clue where to sit or what to touch but he let you take the lead. 

You tousled and pulled on his hair, wanting to get him close to you, to feel something good from him for once.

He pushed you lightly as he heard your daughter's steps encroaching, he stood up with a light blush on his ears as he pointed at the door, you looked up wanting to say something but there she was with a big grin on her face and her chest bouncing with excitement.

“You proud of yourself?” Did you ask her or yourself, there?-- If your friend dies…”

“Elmo won’t die… not on a microdose of V. for fuck sakes this company sold diluted V for a G-Fuel collab!”

“You say that but you had never actually worked with V until now! Do you have any idea what you were doing!?”

She looked at the desk nearby, the little GP office setting in this room sort of amusing.

“No. Got a little too eager when I found the playground, it’s sort of a cruel joke for me to be able to make myself invisible, and be in the same building as all of this” She gestured to her surroundings– just because I'm smart doesn’t mean I have the emotional intelligence of an adult to match… So?”

“Do whatever you want Helena… I can’t… I can’t with you… just–

Homelander turned to you, concerned at your tone, it was harsh. Where you giving up on her? He though.

You buried your face beneath your hands, trying to calm down.

“I won’t kill anybody, I'm not interested in that.”

“So what are you interested in?” You argue smacking your back flat on the back of the seat– please enlighten me!?”

“Vought.” Homelander interjects– oh you’re clever…”

He picks her up, poking her nose, there’s an air of comfort in his gesture, as if he always had done so.

“You're a scheming little munchkin.” he squeezes her cheeks jokingly– this isn’t Game of Thrones, darling. Daddy will take care of you”

“You mean the shareholders will take care of me once they realize you can re-open Stan Edgar’s plan to get into the US military… then the police force. Thanks to me.” She gives him a peck on the cheek– but don’t forget I’m not an only child.”

Homelander was blindsided by such a gesture, between you two he was in a tight spot.

Still he was entering heaven as his heart skipped a beat or two, feeling his daughter clung to him, feeling how dangerously light she was, how cute she was, how perfect she was.

Your daughter and yourself stayed silent during that drive home, the radio louder than usual, only when you reached your home did you act, stopping her belt-buckle from coming undone.

“You asked me to play a role in your game without a script– had to improvise.”

“Don’t give me that. You did something horrific Helena! I can't even believe you!” you snapped, your daughter frowned in return as you smacked your palms on the steering wheel– just admit you wanted to do it!”

“I did. I wanted to explore those labs. I like looking at things at Vought– it's stimulating! you want me to get “dad” to love me, no? He loves Vought! I'm just his bastard competing againts the son he’s loved for longer! so I show interest in the one thing he loves other than himself to have an advantage!”

“You went too far!!” you snapped.

“I am not sleeping in a car ever again, Y/N!!” She turned to you with rage in her sight– we are not going back! So you do your thing and I do my thing.”

You let go of her belt buckle.

“You hurt people.” you whispered, pain palpable in your lips, trying to not scream, to not slap her, to stay calm as your daughter heaved angrily, as her eyes glowed intensely.

“I haven’t– Elmo Cripple is alive… so far the only one that’s been hurt is me!!”

She gritted her teeth, the air growing thin inside your old station wagon.

“What is ‘Poltergeist’ getting out of this? He’s not like you.” You didn’t want to argue with her, afraid you would forget she was a child and not a woman– What have you done to him?”

“He’s a dog… don’t worry… he understands I have a vision– I need you to get Homelander to publicly acknowledge me as his daughter.”

Helena hopped off the car slamming the door on her way out.

Your daughter and yourself didn’t speak for the rest of the day, she silently did her thing with only the sounds of the television filling the gap, until bedtime– you sat outside with a cup of hot chocolate in your hands, you glanced at the potted trees and the smooth gray walls of your homely prison, large windows framing your reflection allowing you to catch the blue and red coming down in the glass unsurprisingly.

“You want some hot chocolate?” You asked, lifting your cup.

He looked disgusted at the idea.

“She’s sleeping… I am calling in sick tomorrow… I need a day off…” you muttered as he landed before you, he pushed the metal chair scraping the grass, to take a seat by your side.

“How are you feeling? They will be trying her formula, so she will be there under Dr. Park vigilance… talk about cool after-school activities-- beats being a girl-scout!.” Homelander was clearly not that interested in you tonight– I kept an eye on Poltergeist. All his vital signs are fine.”

You seemed a little relieved.

Gawking at him, his bleached blonde locks, those sharp features and beautiful thin lips, you felt a tingle in your chest.

You wanted to forget about today, to not think of Helena’s actions.

Your smile was sad but he hadn’t noticed.

“Wanna fuck?” You put the cup down with a huff.

Homelander gave you a double take, this was the easiest way to wash away today’s events-- Helena's words creeping back at you... you had to to bind him to you... like this you could rid of these strange sensations simmering within, as you stared at his pretty blue eyes, and his belt, you threw away rationale.

“My battery ran out.”

His nervous smile was cute, you stood up… him still in the chair– turning around once again as you opened the door, inviting him to enter your domain.

Homelander was still so handsome it was infuriating to acknowledge that. Compared to your dull exhausted skin– he was still so fine. It wouldn’t be the worst you’ve done, you missed the attention, and he wanted yours so why not? You scratched your head as he simply stood frozen on the spot, shrugging your shoulders as you closed the door behind– only for his hand to keep it open, his breath ragged and the blush in his cheek matching the faint light of his eyes.

“Are… Are you sure?” he asked nervously.

“John” You tap his chest with your knuckles– take it off.”

Bells rang inside his brain, a shimmering perturbed gaze burning directly at you– a dog awaiting orders.

He followed you into the living room ditching his boots and tights on the way to that terrible couch, he watched you closely as you took a blanket and threw it on the ground alongside the cushions, licking his lip as you took your shirt off revealing your bare breasts.

He was quick to take you into his arms, kissing you intensely, your hands reaching after his neck, fingers harshly caressing his undercut, as he slid down your bottoms.

“You miss me?” His hands were so needy as he bit into your neck leaving trails of hickeys, his tongue savoring that spot where he had marked you as his own, the dents in your skin and the sunken discolored flesh left by his bite mark– it tickles…” 

In the heat of the moment he had bitten you, feasting on your blood as pleasure and pain intertwined, your mind blank as he made love to you, fostering a hatred for mirrors after it all ended, feeling him kiss his signature made you anxious, not wanting to relieve the bitter memories in this moment.

“Mommy…” He whispered as he returned to kiss and lick your neck– "It's been so long, mommy.” he said breathlessly.

“Is been long for me too, my sweet boy.” He moaned into your skin, his maws needy, eager to taste you, his breathless soughs turning you light as he brought you down onto the floor, holding your head as he kissed your neck and ears– you promise to make mommy feel good just like I taught you, baby?” Your voice is sickly sweet making his eyes flare up.

“Can… Can mommy show me again?” His voice gravelly and low as he cupped your chest.

You wedged your legs from under him with a cheeky smile.

“I’ll be extra-thorough then, so pay attention, sweetie.”

He liked that tone in your voice, he liked it even more when you commanded him, how long had it been since you lead him? Too long... too long to bare another moment without it.

Unsurprisingly he had no need for a refresher.

Taglist-- @fromforeigntofamiliarity (hope you had a nice snack for this chapter :), @demodemo909 @immyowndefender

#personal #homelander #homelander fanfic #the boys fanfic #the boys oc #my fic tag #american royalty #homelander x reader #homelander x you #dadlander #sorry for spellign errors

[tornadoyoungiron]

TRAINTOBER | DAY 19 - Revolutionary

Gordon discovers that he has a cousin who is electric.

~~~

“Don’t be preposterous!” Gordon sniffed as he gazed at the large black A4 Pacific before him. 

Said A4 Pacific just chuckled in response. 

“You have my word of being named after Sir Nigel Gresley himself,” the engine declared but Gordon just humphed in response. 

“You’re in league with my brother, playing tricks on me as usual,” Gordon scoffed. 

Sir Nigel frowned and gave Gordon a hard stare of disproval. Had he been an engine that actively worked on the mainland and knew well of the structure of their leadership system, Gordon would have faltered but Gordon was not of the UK’s mainland. 

“You can try and intimidate me all you like, but I will not fall for one of my brother’s hair-brained schemes!” Gordon scoffed at him and Sir Nigel just stared at him dumbfounded.

“You really have no idea what happened on the LNER do you?” The A4 Pacific considered, shocked.

“I was on the other side of the country on an independent Island, why would I?” Gordon blustered and Sir Nigel seemed to relax and accepted the A1 Pacific’s reasoning. 

“I suppose you have a point,” he accepted. “But you have my word that I am not engaging in the foolishness that your brother does.”

Gordon frowned but said nothing. 

Sir Nigel Gresley had designed an electric engine? How utterly ridiculous! He’d never heard of such rubbish! Still, he didn’t know this A4 all that well and the only other two he knew were complete, well, one could have less than appealing words to say about either of them. Especially Bittern.

Sir Nigel seemed pleasant and had been nothing but proper and gentlemanly, much like a true express engine should act. And so, Gordon considered his options.

“Prove it,” he dared the A4 and Sir Nigel just gave him a humble smile. 

“But of course. But for that we’d have to make our way back to the National Railway Museum,” Sir Nigel informed him. “Would you care to double-head with me, my good fellow?”

Gordon was taken aback by the courtesy. 

“Why, of course!”

~~~

“The Class 76’s held a strange place on the LNER I must say,” Sir Nigel explained as they neared York. “Most of us weren’t sure what to make of them. They were Gresley’s yes, but they weren’t Steam Engines and so they wavered on the line of being ridiculed and respected.”

“I didn’t think Sir Gresley wanted to dabble with anything other than Steam!” Gordon huffed. “The man I knew wouldn’t have anyway!”

“Times change and people must adapt to them,” Sir Nigel refuted. “Sir Gresley was always experimenting, always wanting to improve upon what came before. It was inevitable really that he would turn to more officiant ways of transport.”

“But to abandon steam!” Gordon croaked out horrified. 

“Oh no!” Sir Nigel quickly assured Gordon. “He always thought of Steam as a viable competitor. But it was him who pushed for the electrification of the LNER. It was he who pushed for a national plant where engines could be proofed instead of going to France. He was a revolutionary man in more ways than one, but he never, not once forgot his roots.”

Gordon was silent for a long while. 

It made sense, all of it did. Sir Gresley was the type to look for constant improvement, constantly trying new ideas, not being afraid of suggestions and considering alternatives. Maybe Sir Nigel wasn’t trying to trick him. Maybe he spoke the truth. 

“There were 58 of the Class 76’s made,” Sir Nigel explained. “Thirteen of them were named and named for Greek Gods.”

“Well, at least it wasn’t birds,” Gordon snorted and Sir Nigel just gave a soft hum at that.

“Only one remains as an exhibit, although parts of others also remain,” Sir Nigel ignored Gordon’s comment. “Would you like to meet them?”

More and more Gordon began to believe the A4 as they drew into the museum.

“Wait, I recognise this place, isn’t this-”

“This used to be the York Locomotive Depot,” Sir Nigel explained with a smile. “A familiar home to many a LNER engine.”

“I didn’t know it got turned into the museum let along the National Museum,” Gordon breathed as he gazed around at the place. “It’s… so different.”

Sir Nigel did not say anything, simply allowing Gordon to reminisce on the past until they reached a strange very box-like engine with a black polished livery with red lining and yellow lettering, almost like an LMS engine. 

“Gordon, may I introduce Darnell, he is the Class 76 I was telling you about,” Sir Nigel introduced the engine and Gordon stared at him with a critical eye.

“Ah, you another one that doesn’t believe I’m a Gresley now do you?” Darnell gruffly accused and Gordon frowned.

“Well, you definitely sound like a North East Engine,” Gordon muttered.

“Ay ay, look down here,” Darnell invited the Blue A1 Pacific to look at something and Gordon glanced down at the placard before the electric engine. “Those are my designs yes? Look at em! Really look!”

With a frown, Gordon did as the engine asked but then gave a gasp as he saw the signature down the bottom.

Sir Nigel Gresley.

Gordon’s face turned red and he glanced at his A4 companion in embarrassment. He’d been right after all.

“I owe you an apology,” he confessed and Sir Nigel simply gave him a kind smile.

“You have no need to Gordon,” he praised his elder cousin. “Though, keep that suspicious eye on your brother. He does tend to be rather… childish at times.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Gordon chuckled in turn.

~~~

Sir Nigel Gresley and Sir Nigel Gresley

#ttte fanfic #traintober #traintober 2023 #ttte gordon #real railway #ttte sir nigel gresley #ttte young iron #ttte

[ailendolin]

Norne and birthdays for the prompt xx

Thank you and I love your writing

Hi anon! Thank you for the lovely prompt and for your kind words! I hope you enjoy your ficlet!

List of prompts is here. Filled prompts are here, here, here and here on AO3.

Prompts are closed.

————

Bluebells

“Nigel, I’ve been wondering – I don’t think you’ve ever told me when your birthday is.”

The question came out of nowhere. They were lying in the meadow behind the house not far from the well Nigel knew Thomas liked to use as a sighing spot and idly watching the clouds form shapes in a brilliant blue summer sky. Birds were singing all around them and bees humming busily as they flew from flower to flower, always restless, always working. Nigel knew what that felt like. There had always been something to do in the fields or the workshop when he was alive, something to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied. He hadn’t minded back then; hadn’t known any different. Now, though – now he enjoyed the luxury of having nothing to do and nowhere to be, especially if it meant he could spend the whole day with Thomas; just the two of them, relaxing.

It was still a novel feeling, having someone to hold his hand and smile up at him as if he’d hung the moon and stars. And a little baffling, if he was being honest. Nigel had no idea what Thomas saw in him; he wasn’t particularly pretty or witty or smart. And yet Thomas never failed to melt against him when he reached up to caress his cheek before leaning in for a kiss, and he always looked astounded when Nigel complimented his writing or told him he loved him – as if he was the undesirable one out of the two of them, not Nigel.

“You don’t have to tell me, of course,” Thomas hurried to say when the silence between them stretched too long and self-consciously pulled his hand out of Nigel’s grasp. “It’s just, I mean to write you a poem for the occasion but I don’t know how much time I have and it needs to be perfect and–“

Nigel rolled over so he could place a gentle hand on Thomas’s chest to stop him from spiralling. “You worry too much. It will be perfect – after all, it’s you who’ll compose it.”

Thomas’s heart was racing under his palm.

“But…?” he asked, his voice wavering with the fear of rejection.

“But I’m afraid I don’t really have a birthday.”

At this, Thomas frowned and sat up. “What do you mean, you don’t have a birthday? Everyone has a birthday.”

“Let me rephrase that,” Nigel said and sat up as well. “I don’t know my birthday. None of us do. Things were … different back then.”

A shadow of what looked an awful lot like sorrow passed over Thomas’s face. “I … I don’t understand.”

“None of us could read, Thomas,” Nigel said softly. “We had no way of knowing what date it was and the church only kept records of christenings. The closest thing to a birthday we celebrated back then were Name Days.”

Recognition dawned in Thomas’s eyes and was replaced by the same dark sorrow from before only a moment later. “But – those were related to saints. I’ve never heard of a saint named Nigel.”

Nigel shrugged. “That’s because there isn’t one. I’ve always celebrated my second name, George, together with my father.”

“Oh,” Thomas said. He sounded dejected. “So you never had a Name Day to yourself.”

“I didn’t mind,” Nigel said but he could see by the deep furrow between Thomas’s brows that Thomas very much did.

“It’s not fair, though,” Thomas said, looking almost as distressed as when someone mocked his poetry. “You deserve to be celebrated on your own. You’re kind and caring and – and simply wonderful!”

Nigel, feeling warmth spread through his chest like a cup of hot milk laced with honey, smiled and flicked his hair. “Don’t forget fabulous.”

He felt Thomas’s hand on top of his. “I wish there was a way we could find out when you were born.”

“Well,” Nigel said. “My mother always said the bluebells were in bloom when I came into the world.”

Thomas’s eyes widened. “That would mean May! We could pick a day and celebrate your birthday then!”

He sounded so eager Nigel didn’t have the heart to tell him that it didn’t really matter to him. It clearly mattered to Thomas and in the end, knowing it would make him happy, was all it took for him to suggest, “How about May 16?”

The smile on Thomas’s face became blinding. He nodded eagerly and immediately started talking about all the things he would plan for the day. Nigel listened quietly as he always did in these moments, his heart full of love, and when Thomas eventually ran out of breath, he closed the gap between them and kissed him, feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

#thomas thorne #nigel the plague ghost #norne #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts fanfic #my fic #ask game prompt ficlet #birthday prompts 2023

[podcastbrainrotdad]

One thing I delight in when it comes to Rev.wavering and Mayor Desmond's relationship is that there's no angst between them, none, and don't get me wrong I love me some angst but seeing these two queer men be deliriously happy together, having such boring mundane problems like forgetting birthdays and generally being the sweet gay elderly couple that the messier characters confind in is such a breath of fresh air when it comes to gay representation in media.

Even though they both had a difficult upbringing you never doubt their happiness or their love for each other, they don't get homophobic family members trying to break them apart or big horrible fight scenes, they're never ashamed to display their affection, everyone in the gosh darn village agrees they're a good pair, doofus weirdos in love.

I wish we had more seamlessly happy queer rep in media, I'm tired of being emotionally torn to shreds.

#nigel wavering #mayor desmond desmond #wooden overcoats podcast #wooden overcoats #wo #lincoln speaks #podcast

[soledadcatalina]

[id: a digital sketch of mayor desmond desmond and rev. nigel wavering from wooden overcoats. the two are are holding hands as desmond looks lovingly at nigel, who is in the middle of speaking.] 

pleasantly surprised by the weird grandpas getting together. good for them 

#wooden overcoats #desmond desmond #nigel wavering #accessible fanart #image description #casetrippy does art

[cobalt-knave]

How to create crossovers with the Mechanisms.

Think of a character. Ask yourself if Jonny d'Ville would like them.

If the answer is no, ask yourself how to make that answer yes.

Concept

Expand on concept

Example: Let's take Rudyard Funn of Funn Funerals.

Would Jonny d'Ville like him? No, he's too borrrring.

Actually, wait, no, Rudyard is extremely unhinged.

Concept: Jonny is busy being dead and someone, let's say Drumbot Brian, leaves his corpse at some run down abandoned looking place. Jonny awakens being prepped for a funeral. How does Rudyard respond? Is it in shock? Horror? Fear? No! It is with righteous indignation. “Another funeral ruined! You have the Nerve, the AUDACITY to come back to life before we've had the funeral. Well, get ready because you're going in the coffin in the ground ON TIME whether you like it or not. GEORGIE, there's a zombie apocalypse!” (”Got it, sir. I'm great at dealing with zombies.”) And Jonny's just sitting there like, this man is insane. I have to see what he'll do next! And bam! Antigone pops out of the shadows and he jumps out of his skin.

I also think Jonny would be utterly charmed by Madeline. I don't know why. But I feel he would want to make a Wooden Overcoats album just so he could narrate as Madeline.

Now, what about the other Mechs? Maybe Drumbot Brian (someone so forcibly assured of morality) befriends Nigel Wavering. Perhaps Doctor Baron Marius Von Raum (neither a baron nor a doctor) decides to bother Dr. Edgeware. Maybe the Toy Soldier joins the circus! What would Ivy Alexandria think of Rudyard's archives? What chaos they could wreak on the pirate day? Did Ashes know Chapman a long time ago?

Jonny: Do you normally get chased by angry mobs? Rudyard: Yes.

Boom.

#the mechanisms #wooden overcoats #fanfiction #fic ideas #we get the immortal in the coffin in the ground on time

[yoshimickster]

Nigel consoling Desmond after being scared by the Muppet Christmas carol is PEAK relationship goals.

#wooden overcoats #mayor desmond #mayor desmond desmond #desmond desmond #nigel wavering

[byneddiedingo]

Cary Grant and Joan Fontaine in Suspicion (Alfred Hitchcock, 1941) Cast: Joan Fontaine, Cary Grant, Cedric Hardwicke, May Whitty, Nigel Bruce, Isabel Jeans, Heather Angel, Leo G. Carroll. Screenplay: Samson Raphaelson, Joan Harrison, Alma Reville, based on a novel by Anthony Berkeley as Francis Iles. Cinematography: Harry Stradling Sr. Music: Franz Waxman. "Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you," as Joseph Heller put it in Catch-22. Considering how many plots of Alfred Hitchcock's films are variations on that theme, he might well have had the phrase posted on his office wall. Suspicion is one of the purest explorations of that premise: A woman thinks her handsome rotter of a husband is out to murder her, and the evidence keeps piling up up that she's right. Of course, she isn't, but it takes an hour and 39 minutes to reach that rather anticlimactic conclusion. Suspicion was Hitchcock's fourth American film, and it shows that he was still getting used to working in a rather different studio system than the one he had in England. After the micromanaging of David O. Selznick on his first, Rebecca (1940), he had a comparatively easier time with producer Walter Wanger on Foreign Correspondent (1940) except for the difficulty of making a film about impending war in Europe while the United States was still officially neutral -- so the bad guys could never be explicitly identified as Nazis, for example. But his third film, Mr. & Mrs. Smith (1941), his first set in the United States, was a dud, in large part because Hitchcock had yet to master American idiom: The prissy character played by Gene Raymond, for example, was supposed to have been the best fullback at the University of Alabama. I doubt that Hitchcock knew what a fullback was, let alone one from Alabama. So for Suspicion he retreated to familiar territory, England at a time when there wasn't a war going on, and some actors he had worked with before: Joan Fontaine, Nigel Bruce, and Leo G. Carroll from Rebecca, as well as May Whitty, who had starred in The Lady Vanishes (1938). The chief newcomer was Cary Grant, who would become, along with James Stewart, one of Hitchcock's most reliable leading men. But Grant's presence in the film presented its own problems: He was known as a charming actor in romantic comedy. Would an audience accept Grant as a potential murderer? One story, reportedly verified by Hitchcock himself, holds that the studio, RKO, didn't want to mar Grant's image and insisted on a change from the novel's original ending, in which Johnnie Aysgarth really is guilty. Biographers, however, have disputed that story, claiming that Hitchcock really wanted to focus on Lina's paranoia and not on Johnnie's villainy. In any case, the film's ending feels wrong, mostly because it resolves nothing: Is Johnnie's fecklessness really curable? The chief problem is that Lina herself is an unfocused character, improbably wavering between shyness and passion, between common sense and paranoia, between tough determination and a tendency to faint. Fontaine did what she could with the part, and won an Oscar for her pains, but the film really belongs to Grant. Hitchcock was the one director who could really bring out Grant's dark side. He did it more brilliantly in Notorious (1946), but in Suspicion Hitchcock effectively exploits Grant's ability to turn on a subtle, cold-eyed menace.

#Suspicion #Alfred Hitchcock #Cary Grant #Joan Fontaine

[imgonnagetkilledbynutstink]

Desmond just proposed to Nigel and i need to scream

#god i love them so much #wooden overcoats #desmond desmond #nigel wavering

[nextstopwonderland]

I have a fantasy of Bryan asking Daniel to join bcc, and Wheeler flips out about it. They are forced to work together and tag for few matches, which all end with them fighting each other. Bryan will have enough of that at some point, and kick Wheeler out of bcc. Later on Daniel will betrayers bcc, and then Wheeler emerges kicking the shit out of him. Bryan and wheeler reconcile and live together happily ever after.

Oh nonnie, you’re so brave in your fantasy. I personally would never be able to handle Wheeler getting “kicked out” of the bcc, even for a short period of time. I’m not built that way 🤣 But I do want the initial UGH FINE GUESS WE GOTTA WORK TOGETHER bickering.

For me, if Danny joins, he’s in, no more wavering and going back and forth. They’ve played card a lot.

Guess this is a good a time as any to reveal the fantasy booking that I had last night:

Danny & Ricky, the self proclaimed “entertainers” who also want to be taken more seriously vs Bryan & Yuta

On collision. With Nigel on comm, obvs.

Tumblr would implode.

#ask alice answered