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aealzx · 10 months

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The first thing Raphael learned about the new Mikey was that he was way more chaotic than their own Mikey. If he hadn’t seen the little guy bulldoze through a meta wall on his own, Raphael would have even called him foolhardy. But having seen Lil Mikey’s skill first hand meant that when he took off running down the hall after a purple EMP wave knocked out the entire base and their own communications, Raphael only followed. Which caused his two brothers to do the same, Don rebooting his tech on the way.

“Uhhhhhh, what was that??” Mikey demanded, speeding up to keep pace with Lil Mikey.

“DONNIE!” Lil Mikey called out once more, both in response to his counterpart, and to try and locate his missing brother.

“That answers absolutely nothing,” Mikey protested.

“Relax Mikey. It was just an EMP pulse. The other Donatello probably doesn’t know we’re here, so wouldn’t see the harm in setting one off,” Don calmed, brightening when his headset crackled back to life. “April?”

“Don?” Mom April’s voice came back laced with relief. “Thank goodness. I thought you’d been captured. I was suddenly kicked from the system.”

“EMP pulse. We’re back online though, and the backup generator just booted up. Can you tell us where Leo and the other Donatello are from us?” Don explained, cutting to the important details since they were already moving.

“I was able to release Leo from here, but it looks like he took a wrong turn while I was disconnected. I’ll try to lead him to join you since he’s familiar with our tactics,” Mom April explained, being able to relocate Leo in the cameras and place him on the map along with the other four. “The other one is no longer captured either, the containment room is empty, but I can’t get a location on him. There’s a deadzone of broken cameras in the area around where he was imprisoned. My guess is he’s taking them out- Don, look out! They rebooted the mechs in the room in front of you!”

To Mom April’s credit, she did try to warn them. But to their credit, they had one more team member than usual. As the sliding doors creaked open slowly because of the minimal energy provided to them the group emerged on a modest sized combat team made from a combination of Bishop’s soldiers enhanced with alien tech from the Shredder. There were four piloted mechanoids, and about ten ground soldiers with blasters, all trained at the door the brothers were coming through.

To the enemy’s benefit of the doubt, Lil Mikey wasn’t from their dimension. As soon as he noticed the weapons trained at them Lil Mikey’s first thought was to get cover for them. And since there wasn’t any readily available he created his own. Golden orange chains crashed from his arms into the ground below and ripped the metal flooring up like a peeled banana, effectively blocking the blaster fire. That was all he was able to get done before a powered up whine sent a pulse of headache inducing energy into the room, causing Lil Mikey to yelp and clutch his head.

“MAN! That is SO unfair!” Lil Mikey whimpered.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get them,” Don consoled, already pulling a mirror from his bag of supplies to use to locate the devices without risking poking their heads out. It didn’t take long to find the upright duffle bag sized machine whirring away near a mechanoid’s foot. “Raph-”

“On it,” Raphael responded, having been looking over Don’s shoulder. Popping over the barrier they had Raphael threw bladed stars at the device before covering his head with his arms, just in case, and dropping back down. There was a satisfying clang, pop, and fizzle as the device was damaged enough to shut down. Yet along with it came the fizz of more gas canisters being broken open and tossed.

“Hey! No peeking!” Mikey chastised when a ground soldier coasted around the side, trying to sneak up on them. A stunt earned them a metal nunchuck to the shielded face, and a quick kick to the side to send them away again.

“Thanks!” Lil Mikey chimed once again, shaking his head clear before bringing his chains to life once more. While several of them whipped into the soldiers, either bashing them to the side or stealing their guns, Lil Mikey stepped out from behind the barrier. The chains from his arms came once more, thrashing forward to wrap around one of the mechanoids moments before Lil Mikey whip cracked it into a different one.

With the blaster fire having been minimized, Don and Raph darted out from either side of the barrier as well, tiny electric mines in their hands. It was almost child’s play to dodge they’re way in and out of the remaining soldiers, snaking in a quick punch or kick on their way. The mines were attached to the remaining mechanoids, electricity bursting upon contact and crackling up the machines to fry the circuits.

Raphael would have given them full points for that fight, except after a moment Lil Mikey let out a series of soft coughs and put his hands back to the oversized gas mask on his face.

“Try not to breathe in the gas if you can. It might be good for you to stay back if there’s any,” Don immediately switched more to medic mode, resting a hand on Lil Mikey’s back and leading him to the exit while trying to fan the gas away with his other hand.

“Dude, that was INSANE! How are you able to just throw a giant machine like nothing? Can I learn to do that?” Mikey cheered, rushing to catch up to the rest after having given the remaining conscious soldier a kick to the head.

“Probably because we’re made to be super soldiers,” Lil Mikey commented offhandedly, giving a few more soft coughs before taking a deeper breath once they escaped the gas cloud.

The words didn’t quite register correctly in the others’ minds, their bodies moving on autopilot for a moment while their minds caught up.

“....What?” Raphael voiced shortly, not quite sure he understood that correctly.

“....Oh…,” was all Don could think to comment, filing that fact away for later analysis.

Mikey blinked as the construct in his mind quickly rearranged itself into an explanation that made more sense. If they were super soldiers, then they weren’t super heroes, right? “Khhk. Captain America, I’ve come to destroy you,” Mikey quoted, mimicking the static from a radio, then quickly dodging Raphael’s swatting hand.

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I was too lazy to try and make the image look any better =v=; not that great with getting the oomph in action shots yet

#my art #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #cross dimension kidnapping #rise+2003 crossover #writing #long post #I didn't think I would get nearly this far today

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b33zlebubz · 4 months

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RIGOR MORTIS | CHAPTER THREE

SIMON RILEY X AFAB READER | MASTERLIST | AO3 PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER TAGS: reader uses she/her pronouns, blood violence & death, suicidal ideology, slow burn, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, toxic workplace environment “Abandoned in a battlefield with the one person you thought you would never see again; you're forced to come to terms with the ghosts of your past."

MONDAY APRIL 22ND 2024 MEXICO, 2200 HOURS

Your camp is the cabin of a wrecked SUV.

You're not sure what did it, yet; what wrecked the car and left the side of it charred. Air strike, landmine, a very high-quality grenade launcher…you don’t really care what specifically, you just know that it's supplies and shelter. It's lodged into the mud on the side of a dug-out, having crashed some time after the battle turned sour. The rain has cooled the metal over the course of the past day leaving the back somewhat intact. One of two of what must be the soldiers that drove it are now laying in the ditch; shot from the front window during the wreck, you imagine, charred and dead. Their uniforms and helmets suggest they’re part of your battalion, but you try not to think about it.

It makes a decent shelter; dry and shielded from the rain that still pelts against your helmet. The inside stinks of gunpowder and ash as you usher Ghost into the back and he collapses against a supply crate pressed in a corner. He grunts, breath quick and heavy against the soaked cloth of his mask as his head falls back against the container. First aid training kicks in and you’re listening for any sign of a punctured lung or liquid in his lungs.

"We gotta get that mask off," you huff, helping him fumble with the straps to his helmet. With the adrenaline fading, your own voice sounds muffled to you, the product of damaged eardrums. "You're waterboarding yourself."

He lets out something that might be a humorless chuckle, his eyes closed as he juts his chin up. His hands are clumsy and useless as they pull at the strap. "Wouldn't be my first time, sergeant."

"Colonel."

You lift his helmet off and he blinks at you blearily, "what?"

"It's Colonel, now," you say, taking off your own helmet and tossing it aside. Your hair free from the heavy armor, it sticks to your face in wet clumps. "A lot can change in eight years."

You could be imagining it, but you swear you see a flicker of hurt in his eyes before he grimaces, his neck lulling before you catch his head.

Ghost strains, his breathing growing labored. Still, he finds the energy to smile through the rip in his mask, and a rivulet of blood flows from the side of his cheek and into his mouth.

"Knew you could do it, love," he slurs.

You hate how your heart twists with fondness that still lingers, and it tastes like copper and bile when you swallow it back.

"Never doubted it," you say, words softer. You pat the side of his face and he grunts. "Stay awake. I don't know how bad you're hurt yet."

Your hands grasp at the torn edge of his soaked balaclava.

You watch his eyes flicker through water and blood. Dark brown irises with uneven pupils glance down at your hands through lazy eyelids, and then up at you—but he doesn't resist like you imagined he would. Instead, he can only manage a heavy swallow and a resigned nod.

He hisses as you lift the fabric away from his head as carefully as you can. A five o'clock shadow crisscrossed with scars greets you before a broken nose on a ghostly-pale, angular face. Sandy hair is cropped short, dark with blood that cakes high on his temple.

If it were another situation—another time—you think, maybe, you would've stopped to marvel at him. Commit the facial features you had once wondered about so much to memory while you traced the sharp curves of his face with a gentle finger. Instead, you can only focus on how your injured hand fumbles with the first-aid kit on your vest—pulling out a sterile cloth that you press to his injury.

"Fuck," you hiss.

"I'll live," he breathes, closing his eyes again. He places a hand over yours, applying more pressure that's weak, but still more than you can manage at the moment. "Looks worse than it is. Head wounds always do. Just keep your hand there."

"Yes, sir," you mutter, falling back on old formalities as your bloody hand quivers against his face. He squeezes it before his grip loosens, and his head lulls again. You grab him by the chin.

"Ghost. Don't."

His eyes flicker open again briefly before they sink shut once more. When he doesn't reply, a flicker of panic sparks in your chest.

"Stay with me, Lieutenant," you pat his face again, trying to keep him awake. "Ghost?"

"You," he whispers, his voice barely a breath against your face. “We’ve met before…yeah?"

You swallow thickly.

"Angel," you tell him. "It's…it’s Angel, Ghost. It's me."

"Angel," he repeats with all the softness eight years of distance, blood, war, and anger can muster—and the idiot is still smiling as his hand slides off of yours, leaving a bloody handprint in its wake. "'Missed you."

Panic ebbs at your mind, and you grab his arm as you get in his face.

"Ghost don't fucking fall asleep, you hear me?" Disparity makes your voice crack, "Don't fucking leave me here."

No response. You shake his shoulder.

"Ghost," you beg. "Simon!"

His head lulls against his chest as his eyes sink shut, and your breath catches in your throat. Slowly, you remove your hands, backing up against the side of the van. You sink against the opposite wall. Unable to catch your breath, your heartbeat thuds in your ears. The sound is backed with the static of rain that still pours down around you and Ghost's unconscious breathing while thunder rumbles distantly across the sky above, mocking you.

You're left, once again, with only the corpses of your dead squad outside to keep you company.

#simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #cod #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #ghost fanfiction #simon riley fanfic #ghost x reader #cod ghost #simon riley

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fe-fictions · 1 month

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do you maybe have any jakob stories to repost ? ;u;

(Yes!! Here's some "Corrin's injured and Jakob freaks out angst for you to end the month of April!)

It was a blow he wasn’t prepared for. Separated in battle, you were on the other end of the field the last he asked about you. So he tore through the trees, his injuries ignored as he searched for you.

For any sign of you.

“Corrin!!” He shouted with a hoarse voice, fear pulsing in his chest and worry wide in his eyes. “ Corrin, where are you?!”

Every step was labored, his lungs were screaming, but he refused to stop. There was no way he was leaving without you. You were the reason he lived, the reason he woke every day and worked the way he did. The reason he loved.

“ Corrin!!”

He feared his words were falling on deaf ears, not a single sign of his beloved in sight. The dread pooling in the pit of his stomach was more unpleasant than the pain throbbing in his legs and arms. He clutched the kunais in his hands tighter, desperate to locate his other half.

Jakob didn’t know how many times he shouted your name, or how long he’d been running. There were no others in sight, only the bodies of fallen enemies. His nose crinkled in disgust, averting his gaze from the grisly sight.

What if your body was stacked in one of these bloody piles?

The thought sent shivers up his spine, the worry surging through his being in an entirely new form.

“Corrin! Corrin, answer me!!”

In the distance, his eyes narrowed on a figure, slouched against a tree. Smaller frame than the other’s, and bloody. His heart dropped when he came closer.

He knew that hair. The bruised skin, damaged armor, and the tear-filled eyes.

“ Corrin!!”

Jakob’s entire world came crashing down when he saw you. With every step closer, it grew worse. That couldn’t be you, slumped against a filthy tree, bleeding out on the ground. His heart was in his throat when he came to you, crashing on his knees to your side.

“J…Jakob…?”

“I’m here, my love! I’m here, I’m right here…!” His voice was thick and hoarse, unlike anything you’d ever heard come from his mouth. “What happened, where- where are you hurt??”

“T-there…” Your hand rose, the violent shaking more frightening to him than anything else. When it touched your abdomen he was quick to strip away the armor to find a huge gash in your side. He grunted, ripping the cloth from his neck and pressing it to the wound.

“You’ve already lost so much…” He growled, berating himself. You didn’t say anything else, only stared at him with clouded eyes. Your gaze frightened him. “It is imperative you stay awake. Talk to me, I– how did this happen?”

“…”

“Corrin!”

“…When they…separated us…” You coughed, a spatter of blood down your lips. His brow furrowed, tearing off his gauntlet to wipe the red away.

“All right, perhaps you shouldn’t speak.” He said in a rushed tone, and tied the fabric around your stomach to hold it in place. The blood had already begun to seep through, even after applying a Healing staff to the wound.

You needed much more help than he'd be able to provide. The faint glimmer of the staff was already fading; his mana was far too drained to sustain the spell. He spat a curse, shifting to brace your body against his.

“Hold on, darling. I’m taking you to the healer, back to camp. I won’t let you fall here…!”

“…I love you, Jakob…”

“And I adore you, Corrin. Don’t leave me now!” He whispered, hoisting you in his arms and stood to his feet, tearing off to the camp. Adrenaline gave him the push he needed to sprint back to camp.

Jakob’s breath hitched upon reaching the outskirts of camp. You were unresponsive. The cloth was soaked through. Your eyes had shut, too.

“Corrin, we’re here. We made it.”

“……”

“…Corrin?”

“Master Jakob!!” Felicia’s cry caught his attention, and he saw the young maid rushing to him. A flurry of soldiers followed behind, some healers and others concerned family and friends. Everyone looked terrified.

“Get her to the healer’s tent!!” He demanded, meeting them halfway on wobbly legs. “She– she was stabbed, she’s bleeding! She won’t open her eyes, she needs help!”

“She may be dead.” Izana stated, coming forward and taking her into his own arms. Jakob froze, clutching her tightly.

“How dare you suggest such a thing!! She would never do that to me! She wouldn’t leave me, she wouldn’t…!”

“Princess Sakura, help me. And Silas, take care of Jakob's injuries. We must move quickly! She may have lost too much…”

The rest of his words were lost on Jakob, his wife torn away. His hand lingered, allowing himself to be pulled along until he had to let go. He desperately tried to watch, not wanting the last sight of you to be dying in his arms.

Anything but that.

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He’d been kept from the tent for hours. His own wounds healed, he was taken to your room to wait for news. Jakob collapsed onto the bed the moment he was alone, staring up at the ceiling with regret in his eyes.

‘I never should have let us get separated…’ He thought, lips twitching into a sorrowful frown. ‘I should have protected you, I should have been there…’

Tears brimmed in his dark eyes that he fought to keep at bay. He couldn’t cry, not now. You needed him, and he had to stay strong for you. You wouldn’t leave him, you couldn’t. You promised to stay by his side.

After everyone else left, you were the one who stayed.

‘Please, fight for me, love. Please fight for me.’ He pressed a fist to his mouth, turning on his side and curling up against the world. ‘I can’t fight without you.’

He didn’t remember falling asleep. His dreams were filled with thoughts of you, alive, held tight in his embrace. Hugging onto his legs and laughing brightly were two little children, ones that looked just like you.

A family he would give anything to have.

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

“…kob…”

“Ja…ob?”

“…Jakob!”

“Master Jakob, please wake up!”

“Mmrgh…Felicia…?” Jakob cracked an eye open. When his eyes finally focused, he noted that Felicia looked so excited she resembled a puppy.

“Master Jakob, I have urgent news! It’s about Lady Corrin!”

“Is she all right, o-or did something happen?”

“She’s awake!”

He bolted up from the bed, and raced out of the room, headed straight for the healing tent. Felicia had a broad smile on her face, though it was unnoticed by the butler who sprinted as though his tail end was lit by a tome.

He slipped around the corner, bursting in with no regard for the wounded. “Corrin!! Where is she, what happened? Is she all right?!”

“Come see for yourself.” Prince Takumi, who’d never been a fan of the butler, said from the side. Jakob scanned the tent, searching for his beloved.

His fears were silenced when his eyes locked on yours, a very weak, but happy smile crossing your lips. You looked a mess, but he could hardly contain his excitement. With a choked noise, he forced himself forward, wanting nothing more but to hold you in his arms.

“Corrin…!”

“H-hello, love.” You chuckled, though it sounded more like coughing. Jakob wrapped his arms around you as tightly as he could, careful to avoid your injury as he pressed you against his chest.

“I was so worried, I thought you… I-I thought you died–!” He stuttered against your shoulder, the tears pouring from his eyes. He didn’t care about all the eyes watching them, even if they were happy the two were reunited.

All he care about was that you were here, with him. Alive.

“I p-promised I wouldn’t leave you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.” He pulled away, rubbing at his cheeks. Jakob’s hands wrapped around yours, and pressed the sweetest of kisses to your fingertips.

“I love you too much to lose you…not like that, anyway…”

“I couldn’t bear it if you left me, milady. You knew that, I’m sure.”

“Why do you think…I fought so hard…?”

“Because I love you, too. More than anything in the world.” He kissed your forehead, then your eyes, cheeks, and nose. “I’ll never lose you like that again, I swear it. I’ll die before I see you in such a way, ever again.”

“You’re such an…o-overdramatic romantic…” You giggled again, a little more recognizable. He smiled warmly, the kind that was reserved only for you, and pressed his forehead against yours.

“It’s all because of you. You do this to me… Just know it is reserved for you, and your eyes alone.”

“…What about everybody who’s watching us?”

“I’ll skin them alive if they mutter a word about it.”

Jakob pressed his lips to yours then, despite the shrieks of fear when his steely gaze intimidated the entire tent. Needless to say, nobody knew what happened in the tent that day.

For it was meant for your eyes, alone.

#jakob #corrin #fe fates #fe 14 #fire emblem fates #fe: fates #jakob x corrin #fe-fictions #f!corrin #fem!corrin #f!mu

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auntie-doom · 1 year

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Folks, my POTS is broken.

This is easily one of the most bizarre things in my life with this lemon of a body. I've been experiencing this predictable heart rate jump when I stand up, without fail, for over three decades... until the heart rate increase started failing mid-leap.

I thought I just wasn't recovering from a cold in March, went to the doc in late April; my lungs were clear, no high WBC, wasn't a secondary infection. But the symptoms were apparently consistent with heart or lung damage. Doc sent me to the ER. The ER chest CT was clear, but while I was hooked to the ER machines I noticed my oxygen saturation kept doing this slow dropping down to alarmingly low levels--and I felt fine--then slow climbing back to 99%. A few minutes later I was hit by intense fatigue & pain.

I checked it on the fingertip pulse/ox after I got home, still happening, but fingertip machine had difficulty with motion and rapidly changing numbers. I got a wearable bluetooth pulse/ox. I'm still seeing the oxygen saturation dips and it's pretty terrifying, yes, WTF is this meat machine doing now? (My doc thinks leakage between oxygenated and deoxygenated blood, which is not reassuring at all. I have a cardiac referral.)

But seeing my POTS get tripped partway through a jump is *freaky*.

Look at that (about 11am). That's not right. My heart rate started to do the typical POTS jump and crashed to below 50 instead, coinciding with a dramatic O2 drop. What the hell. (full screenshot under readmore)

How long has it been doing this? Is my physical hardware just unable to react to the dysautonomia "speed up" signals? Is this why the fatigue has been increasing way past reasonable?

I had a heart ultrasound and multiple EKGs during the POTS diagnosis, but apparently what I need is a heart ultrasound with "bubble test," which I have never had. I even wore a pulse/ox for a sleep study but this doesn't happen at night! Mostly. It does coincide with activity... frequently... sometimes I am not doing anything... but almost always I am awake.

My POTS is broken and I am so weirded out.

#chronic illness #pots #medical mystery #cardiac weirdness #my pots is broken #leaky blood #hypoxia #hypoxia intoxication #i think

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cerenemuxse · 1 year

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An Engine of Many Colors

March 1970 (with a time skip to mid-April 1970)

CW/TW: Panic attack

The story can be found at @eosr-by-muxse for easier access.

After James is hauled to the Steamworks by Edward, the once bright red medium-sized tender engine begins to worry about his paintwork. But should that really be the biggest of his concerns?

The way to Crovan's Gate Steamworks took a while. The silence was tense, even with the occasional humming from the engine hauling him. Said engine tried speaking to James earlier, but the latter stayed quiet. He was deep in his own thoughts for what seemed like the first time in his life.

James didn't like it one bit.

A bright red medium-sized tender engine screeched to a halt at Kildane Station. "Here's James!"

"Jimmy, don't do that!" scolded Emily as she arrived at the station with the Emerald. "You're going to seriously damage your brakes!"

"Oh, relax, Emi," huffed James. "I haven't had any problems with them ever since my wooden brakes were replaced. I'll be fine!"

"They were wooden, James! You're wearing this pair much too fast. Keep doing that if you want to have another crash!" the green medium-sized tender engine huffed. Her crew patted her cab to soothe her anger and worries.

"It won't happen to a splendid red engine like me."

"Mhm…" she hummed, unconvinced. She suddenly perked up. "Now that you mentioned red, did you hear about Rosie?"

"Rosie? What does she have to do with red?"

"You haven't seen her? She was repainted red recently!"

"Repainted red? What red?"

Emily didn't respond as her guard blew their whistle. She began to leave.

"Like red red? James red? Splendid red? Are you teasing?" he exclaimed hysterically.

But Emily left without a response.

"Emi? Emi? Emily!"

"Och, slow down, James! Ye're goin way too fast!" exclaimed Edward in a stern tone as James quickly approached him.

James laughed proudly as he got closer. "I am the fastest red engine on Sodor, after all!" he exclaimed, rushing past the other engine. As he did, he barely caught on to what Edward said.

"Keep goin like thon, and ye're goin tae have another crash!"

"Rosie! Help!"

He passed by extremely fast and could barely hear her gasp and yell, "James!"

"Molly, get out!" he exclaimed. "Get out of the shed!"

"James?"

He snapped back into reality and looked around. He was at the Steamworks, sitting in the middle track directed towards the turntable. He looked to his right to see the blue medium-sized tender engine being turned to the track next to him.

"I'll shunt ye ontae the turntable and intae an open space. Give me a minute," said Edward. He moved back, switched to the track James was on, and carefully shunted the flatbed James was on.

James stayed quiet as he was shunted. His frame creaked and groaned. He braced himself, ready to hear an angry tone of some sort.

But it never came.

"Are ye alricht?" began Edward, "Other than whit happenit, o course." He backed down, giving the red engine some space.

Well, once red engine.

James was covered in dust and his paint was scratched up, with large areas having been stripped off by the collision. Large dents were made in his boiler and firebox from the large chunks of brick and concrete collapsing in him. His funnel was crushed by the same debris. His entire buffer beam had fallen off at the site of the accident, Tidmouth Sheds, with his headlamp and left boiler handrail. His left cab handrail was barely hanging on. His pony truck was ready to break off with the amount of rubble that had gotten stuck in his chassis. His boiler dome was no longer shiny and a chunk of the brass covering was missing. His brass whistle and safety valve were completely destroyed. His running board was crushed inwards, damaging his sandboxes and splashers.

The only color on the engine was his heterochromatic eyes of rich brown and lush green.

He refused to look at Edward, who sat on the turntable. He's so mad, I just know it, he thought to himself. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"James?" he asked once again.

"I'm sorry for what I did. I really am," he muttered quickly. His fear slipped right through. "I should've listened. I should've-"

"Whoa, keep the heid!" interrupted Edward. "We ken ye are. Ye've… apologizit enough at Tidmouth."

"But is it going to fix the stunt I pulled?" yelled James, opening his eyes.

Edward didn't respond.

"Just as I thought."

"But did ye learn?"

James looked at him.

"Did ye learn? Did ye finally learn yer lesson?"

"Of course I did," James replied bitterly. "I'm not that moronic."

"Awbody said ye were," said Edward, with a hint of sternness in his tone. He then sighed. "I need tae leave. Dae ye want me tae brin everyane else?"

"I rather you not," he huffed out. His eyes began to burn so he squeezed them shut. "Just go away." His lips straightened tightly, strained into a thin line.

"Alricht," replied Edward as he was turned around. "Git better soon." With a single solemn whistle, he left.

Once James saw that he was gone, he let those tears of anger go. "I've really messed up, big time." He looked up at the ceiling, or rather the sunroof, of the Steamworks as his vision blurred from the tears trickling down his cheeks. The mixture of coal dust and water began to stain his chubby dusty cheeks, mixing with the dust. "I didn't listen to the two warnings I was given. Two bloody warnings! No, three!" His breath was becoming uneven. Had his fire been lit, his face would've burned and his boiler would've bubbled to a near breaking point. "And not only did I destroy the sheds, but I nearly got one of my friends hurt." James took a deep breath, attempting to recompose himself. "Some friend I am. I can kiss my red paintwork goodbye at this point."

"Ah. Hello to you, too, my friend."

James jerked and looked to his right. Victor was there as Kevin strolled right up to him.

"H-How long have you been there?" he sputtered out. Embarrassed, he tried not to sniffle and immediately looked away from Victor and Kevin.

"Not too long," replied Victor. "Now, what was that about your paint?"

"That I can kiss it goodbye, that's for sure," he huffed reluctantly with a sigh. "Many years ago, the Fat Controller threatened to paint me blue if I ever misbehaved."

"But you've done so multiple times," said Kevin. "Just last year, you were here after pulling that stunt with that heavy goods train!"

"Well, he's definitely not letting me get away with it this time. What I just did tops it all off."

Victor and Kevin could only keep quiet, quickly glancing at one another with a knowing frown.

"When is he passing by?"

"Tomorrow," replied Victor.

"Tomorrow? Why tomorrow? Why not today?"

"He's reassigning all the engines of Tidmouth Sheds to other places. It'll take months to rebuild the sheds."

"Rebuild?" Oh goodness, please don't tell me. Don't let it be, don't let it be! "What do you mean?"

"He was on the phone with one of the workmen when the rest of the sheds collapsed," Victor replied. "Even then, the sheds were going to need to be rebuilt."

""Even then?" Why?"

"When was Tidmouth Sheds built?"

"Uhm, nineteen-thirty-nine."

"Aie, aie, aie. I'm not surprised then."

"What happened?"

"They found a lot of safety violations before the rest of the sheds collapsed," said Kevin, rocking on his wheels. Just staring at him made James feel a bit dizzy. "And if there's one thing they've learned in the past few decades, is that old buildings failing to meet the safety requirements mean a lot of trouble."

"And it's going to take months?" James stared ahead. "Oh, I really messed up."

"Look on the bright side!" exclaimed Kevin. "At least they found this out before anything else happened! Those sheds would have collapsed in the middle of the night if this hadn't happened."

"So it's a good thing I crashed then?" snapped James.

Kevin was stunned.

"We'll leave you be, James," said Victor. He began to usher away the stunned yellow crane. "Get some rest in the meantime! We'll get to your repairs tomorrow morning once we figure out what needs fixing."

James didn't reply as he heard the two machines wander somewhere else. To where? He didn't know. He shut his eyes and eventually fell asleep.

When James opened his eyes, he was surprised to find himself going down the Main Line, towards Kildane Station. Jacqueline was there with the branch line coaches, instead of the usual flatbeds of aluminum.

Feeling cheeky, he exclaimed, "Here's James!" and came to a gentle stop.

The large green tank engine looked over and her mouth dropped open.

"Jackie?"

"Votre peinture! C'est bleu!"

"Peinture…?" He paused then gasped. "My paintwork?" he exclaimed.

"Oui! Paintwork, c'est bleu, papa!"

"Bleu?" he exclaimed. He looked around for a reflection, his eyes eventually landing on the glass windows of the station's office building. "Oh no…"

Instead of a bright shining red coat of paint, James had a cerulean blue coat of paint with red lining and boiler bands. The number 6 on his tender was yellow with red lining.

"What happened?" asked Jacqueline.

James would've chuckled at Jacqueline's attempts to speak English if it hadn't been so perfect. Her French accent wasn't bleeding through like it normally did. It was replaced by a thick English accent.

He shook the thought away. "I got what I deserved is what happened."

"Oh… Sir Topham Hatt veut qu'est ce tu tire l'Express."

"Pull the Express?"

"Oui!"

"Pourquoi?"

"Tout le monde est occupé."

"That explains why you're pulling the coaches…"

"Mhm!" Jaqueline's guard blew his whistle. "A plus tard, papa!"

"A plus tard, Jackie!" replied James as he watched his daughter leave Kildane and head to Cronk-Abbey. He sighed, entering Kildane Yards, which was right next to the station and where Kildane Sheds was located.

Or at least that's what he saw before he found himself on the Main Line, passing Vicarstown with the Express. "What in the…?" he said, confused. He noticed he was going incredibly fast, faster than usual. "The coaches are easier to pull this time…" he muttered as he picked up speed. The lightness of the Express coaches made it easier for him as he crossed the viaduct above Vicarstown. He couldn't help but smile proudly. He passed by Molly, who was coming back from the Mainland.

"Oh, it feels wonderful to pull the Express!" he boasted.

"Stop showing off, James!" Molly scolded as she thundered by. "Or you're going to have another crash!" she hollered, her voice quickly fading away.

James brushed it off, but as he did, he felt uneasy. His boiler started to boil rapidly, with anxiety. Steam began to build up in his pipes. He began to worry just as he quickly approached the Vicarstown Drawbridge. He braked when he saw the toll down and the drawbridge going up. But he wasn't slowing down.

The horrible screeching from his brakes snapping hard onto his wheels returned. He winced at the sound, then gasped as he got closer and closer to the drawbridge, not slowing down.

"Wait, no! Stop! Stop!"

No matter how hard he braked, he couldn't stop. Soon, James broke through the toll and-

James screamed as he woke up. He jerked around, becoming aware of where he was at.

He was at the Steamworks but in the air. He looked up to see he was on the lift. Looking around, inspecting his surroundings, he saw Harvey approaching him with the night shift workman, carrying sheets of metal.

"James, is everything alright?" asked Harvey, turning his crane arm away from his view.

James' mouth straightened tightly as he looked away. He stumbled with his words, making frustrated noises. "Everything's fine," he huffed, shutting his eyes once more.

Harvey hummed, concerned. However, he didn't want to prod so he left him alone, going back to work.

Once he was sure Harvey was gone, he opened his eyes, looking around. Just then, he heard Henry's whistle.

"The Flying Kipper," he whispered as he looked to his left. Sure enough, Henry passed by with the Flying Kipper, which James had still yet to grow fond of. He hummed, yawned, and dozed off.

"James? James, wake up!"

James groaned as he cracked open his eyes slowly. He winced as the bright light of the sun startled his vision. "Is it morning already?"

"It's been morning since you got here!" exclaimed the voice.

"Percy?" James asked.

"Yes?" replied Percy.

Once James' eyes adjusted to the change of lighting, he looked around to find Percy shunting a goods train. "Is this Tidmouth Yards?" he asked, recognizing the surrounding area.

"Um, yes," replied the small green saddle-tank engine. "Are you okay? You seem really out of it."

"Huh?" James shook his frame. "I'm fine!"

"Good because your goods train is ready to go!"

"What?"

"Your goods train to Vicarstown. Now hurry up, or you're going to be late!" huffed Percy impatiently before quickly rushing away.

James was left stunned as he moved to collect his goods train. As he did, he caught onto his reflection in one of the windows of a nearby building. He gasped. "Not again!"

Instead of red, he was apple green like Henry, Percy, Emily, and Jacqueline. In fact, like many of the NWR engines. But like Henry, Percy, and Jacqueline, all of his lining was red.

"That's just great," he laughed halfheartedly. "Not unique for my own paintwork anymore. Not like I was before, anyways." He wheeshed heavily as a yardman coupled him to the goods train.

But once again, he found himself already moving, passing by Wellsworth Station. And again, he felt different. The goods train felt lighter than usual, considering it was unusually much longer than what he normally took.

"Huh, everything feels much lighter…" he noted. He thought for a moment. "Those Express coaches felt lighter, and now the goods trains. Maybe it has to do with my paintwork! I was blue like Gordon, and he pulls the Afternoon Express. And now I'm green, like Henry! He's strong, and so are Emily and Jacqueline. Even little Percy is strong, at least on the Ffarquhar Branch Line," he whispered. "Strong and green, that's what I'll be!" he exclaimed with pride as his mood brightened up.

Approaching Gordon's Hill, he thundered up the hill with ease. On the way up, he saw Rosie. The opportunity to be a tease was too good to resist! "Hey, Rosie!" he called out to the struggling red tank engine. “You should be painted green like me! Then you wouldn't be struggling so much!"

Rosie huffed in annoyance as he kept going. "Oh, stop showing off, James or you're going to have another crash!"

James laughed with pride, ignoring the warning and the heavy feeling that loomed over him, as he reached the peak and passed through Maron. Once he did, he reached the east incline of Gordon's Hill and began going downhill. He didn't notice that the incline was abnormally steep, as he was too much in a good mood. "This is easy, easier than ever!" he exclaimed, the euphoria of his dream getting to him.

He had forgotten it was a dream, though.

Suddenly, James squinted when he noticed something ahead. He gasped, realizing what, or rather who it was. Braking harshly, he hollered, "Edward, watch out!"

He couldn't tell if the blue medium-sized tender engine had heard him. It wouldn't have mattered as James quickly got closer and closer to Edward's brake van, attached to the end of his goods train. James screamed in fear-

"No!"

Victor, Kevin, Stafford, and Harvey looked at James on the lift, who suddenly jerked awake. One of the workmen, who had been inspecting James, fell off the ladder. Thankfully, a few other workers caught him before he hit the ground.

"James!" exclaimed Victor, approaching the engine on the lift.

The damaged red medium-sized tender engine opened his eyes, wincing when the bright lights of the Steamworks hit him. "Not again," he muttered.

"James, what's wrong?"

"You woke up with a start!" exclaimed Stafford, as he shunted a few materials to the back of the Steamworks.

James fumbled his words. Not wanting to lose the last bit of pride he had, he huffed. "Nothing's wrong!" he replied, his voice cracking. "It's nothing!" He looked ahead at the dark evening sky. "It's nothing…"

The Steamworks engines weren't convinced but they didn't want to press on. So they continued their work as James dozed off to sleep once more. The light of the moon shined bright through the sunroof of the Steamworks.

When James opened his eyes, he was greeted with the bright light of the sun once again and found himself at the Boxford Summerhouse. He winced as the bright light pierced his eyes, wheeshing heavily.

"James, that's no way to greet anyone!" scolded what sounded like a woman.

James recognized the voice, his eyes opening wide in shock. The Duchess of Boxford! he thought. "Ma'am, hello!" he replied as nonchalantly as possible and looked at the Duchess, who was accompanied by the Duke. "Good day to you, sir!"

The Duke of Boxford chuckled. "Good day to you as well, chap," he replied. "Thank you for filling in for Spencer while he's in for maintenance." He walked up to one of the red coaches that James realized he had been coupled up to.

"I must say," said the Duchess of Boxford. "You are looking quite smart with that silver paintwork," she commented as she got into the coach and her husband offered his hand.

As she climbed on, James gasped. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Silver? Silver?" He flipped his smokebox door open and spotted the glass window of the tiny house on the platform. "Like him?" he exclaimed in horror.

Unfortunately, he was silver with white lining. Just. Like. Spencer. Oh, how much he despised that streamlined silver engine.

James fumed as he closed his smokebox door shut, heavily wheeshing once again. He muttered under his breath, "Him, him! Why him?" Seething through his teeth, steam seeping through them, he whistled twice and moved along.

But this time, the scene didn't change suddenly.

He should be happy, relieved even. But he was afraid and uneasy. The feeling crept through his boiler, and he felt tenser than ever.

Once he reached West Maron Hill Junction, he took the track going east on the Main Line. It was located quite awkwardly, so he was going uphill right as he took that track.

As he did, he heard the Duke speak up, "What's wrong, James? You don't seem like yourself today, chap."

James felt even tenser. "Why is that?" he asked back.

"You're not showing off, and you usually do," replied the Duke. "What's wrong?"

"Did you finally learn your lesson?" asked the Duchess.

James wanted to stop but he couldn't. He just kept going forward. He tried using his brakes but they wouldn't budge. It was like he had no control over himself anymore.

"Did you finally learn that if you keep showing off, you'll have another crash?" she asked again, in a mocking manner.

The words "Another crash" echoed from the Duchess of Boxford, repeatedly. Each time it was said, it drove James further into guilt and fear.

It didn't stop there.

"Keep doing that if you want to have another crash!" he heard someone else say from ahead. When he looked, he realized he was in a place he didn't recognize. The ground was flat and he was on the middle track of three lines. It looked like the rails kept going, but that wasn't what startled him.

Emily was on his right, heading towards him. She said again, "Another crash!" in the same tone she had used that morning as she stormed past.

"You should get your brakes checked or you'll have another crash!" was heard from his left. He looked to see Rosie rush by as well, extremely fast. He swore he felt his frame jostle about. "Another crash!" she exclaimed, repeating with Emily.

"Go, rusty iron! Crash!" was heard from his right again, but this time, it was Diesel. He mocked him as he thundered by. "Another crash!" he repeated. "Another crash!"

Soon, engines of the North Western Railway passed by him, hollering "Another crash!" right at him. The tones of disappointment and anger were there. The words "Another crash!" being repeated over and over again became a muddled mess. His mind became overwhelmed.

And when Molly had said the same thing, the fearful tone was obvious as it screamed and rang in his smokebox. He couldn't blame her. His carelessness would have harmed her as she had been sleeping in the sheds when it happened.

As each engine chuffed by, James' frame kept swaying left and right, the fear of being knocked off his wheels rising. He wanted it to stop. He wanted it to go away.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm sorry," he said again, louder, as he shut his eyes, squeezing them tight. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" As he repeated the phrase over and over again, it got louder and louder. Soon, he was screaming, his eyes burning as dirty coal water tears brewed.

But then he heard another voice. One he hadn't heard in decades in his dreams.

"Go on, James. Go on."

That voice, he froze, immediately looking down when he snapped his eyes open. No, no, no, no, no!

"Go on, go on!" The voice said again. James' frame trembled.

You're supposed to be dead! You're supposed to be dead! I saw it, I saw it!

"Look up."

He fell for it, looking up at Jasmine, into her green eyes. She was going backward, right in front of him.

"Go on!" she exclaimed cheekily. "Crash!"

Her sweet laughter echoed all around him as he stayed frozen in place, staring off into space. He was no longer moving, not noticing the disappearance of the coaches behind him or of his surroundings.

Then everything went dark, the pitch blackness of his surroundings only lasting for a moment when a spotlight flashed on, pointing downwards at him. A glow came from below him, making James feel disoriented once he finally snapped out of his frozen state. A circle was what glowed below him, sifting through every single color. The glow lit up his surroundings very slightly but he could tell enough to know that he was in the Steamworks.

The ground shifted. The turntable, he realized. It began to turn slowly but it soon picked up speed, flashing rapidly as it cycled through many colors. His paintwork began changing colors.

He felt uneasy, and the boiling anxiety within him returned. His breaths became short and uneven.

"No, stop! Stop!" he exclaimed. The turntable spun faster and faster. "Make it stop! Someone-!"

"-help!"

"James!"

The once-red engine opened his eyes and winced for what seemed like the infinite time he had done so. It was the morning and the sun had just started to rise, the light striking his vision.

"James," said a voice. It came nearby.

James looked to his right, squinting. Once his vision refocused, he gasped. "Sir! Good morning, sir!" He exclaimed, failing to hide his panic.

Sir Topham Hatt II shifted from where he stood, on one of the platforms within the works. He cleared his throat. "James, I think you and I both know what is to happen next, right?"

"Yes, sir," he replied solemnly.

"Good. Now, once your repairs are done, you will be helping out with rebuilding Tidmouth Sheds," he said sternly. "I don't want to hear a single complaint. Understood?"

"U-Understood, sir. Is that all?"

The Fat Controller sighed. "No, that is not all…"

…

In the middle of April, James was released from the Steamworks, his repairs having been completed, and given a new coat of paint. The moment he left the Steamworks, he headed to Tidmouth to begin his work.

On the way there, James wasn't focused. His mind kept wandering off to places he couldn't describe, leaving his crew, who hadn't suffered any serious injuries, to be in control. They had tried speaking to their engine back at Crovan's Gate, but James stayed relatively quiet.

When they approached Wellsworth, James was startled when he heard someone call out for him.

"James, it's ye!"

He slowly looked up to find Edward, who was smiling at him.

"It's guid tae see ye out o' the works," continued Edward. "How ur-?"

"Can I stay with you tonight?" said James, quickly. His face began to feel hot and cold.

Although a bit thrown off and worried, Edwsrd didn't push it. "O' course," he replied. "But dae ken thon Emily is stayin' here, too."

"...is she mad?"

The smaller blue tender engine hesitated. "...aye. Very much sae." There was a bit of silence. "Ur ye-?"

"Yes, I'm still staying. I'm gonna have to confront her anyways."

"James, ye ken why she gets like thon."

"I know!" he huffed harshly before biting back his tongue. "But I don’t want to lose her because I avoided her. You and Emily are all that I have left.”

“Whit ur ye talkin’ aboot?”

“I lost the branch line, Edward,” James quickly burst out. “And I’m not getting it back soon.”

“You whit?” His shocked face stared at James. “Och, James…”

“I have to go.”

“Naw, wait! James!”

James quickly left Wellsworth Station. “I’ll be back tonight!” The voice of his friend calling out for him quickly dwindled as he stormed down the line to Tidmouth.

He couldn't think straight. He was tired, exhausted from wheel to funnel. He hadn't been able to sleep, not after waking up from those nightmares. Not even chatting with the Steamworks' engines helped. He just couldn't. He was afraid. He was afraid of hearing any more disappointment, any more anger, any more of anything.

James wasn't a blue engine. He was an engine of many colors.

After much consideration, I have decided to upload this rewrite as part of my contribution to 5/5! It's just been sitting there and I'm a bit impatient xd

Thank you so much to Jay for beta-reading! Very much appreciated. <3

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asskickedbygirl · 2 years

Note

Hi! How about one where reader finally confesses their feelings for Dico at a party

Everybody knows [Brandon DiCamillo x Reader]

Dico x F!Reader: 1.7k words

Description: You had a raging crush on Dico for months but he was far too oblivious to realise and so you had to take matters into your own hands.

Warnings: alcohol, swearing, blood, minor injuries, brief mention of smut

A/n: Thank you for the request!! This is just fluff for the time being (: This is not beta read so ignore errors and I’m thinking this is set during early CKY days

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It had basically been a running joke at this point that you had a raging crush on Dico. At any opportunity, you’d be by his side, laughing unnecessarily hard at his stupid voices and jokes, hitting his arm lightly and staring up at him, batting your lashes seductively. The guys made fun of you for it all the time. “Oh Brandon you’re too funny!” Bam would say in this girly voice, flinging his arms around and chuckling when you went bright red. They’d even burst out laughing when Dico was right there after you’d done something a little flirty. Way to be subtle.

But alas, the kid had no clue. He was completely oblivious to your flirtatious gestures and lingering touches or the fact you’d stick to him like glue whenever he was around. He probably wouldn’t notice if a bus hit him. This became the most frustrating thing of all. You now hoped and prayed one of the guys would just tell him about your raging crush, it would probably alleviate the stress a little. Then you thought about it a little more and realised he would probably deny their claims completely, the only voice he would truly hear it from was yours. But you were way too much of a pussy to confess anything to that man.

That was until you got a bit of alcohol into your system. Bam was throwing a party for whatever reason and the crew were all there a long with much of the West Chester young person population. You could probably be getting with any guy you wanted there, they were coming up in flocks asking if you wanted a beer but you shut them down like you had a boyfriend. Meanwhile the boy that was really on the front of your mind was doing some stupid shit with Chris, no doubt destroying poor April Margera’s lovely home. You stood by and watched, basically just waiting on any opportunity to talk to him despite the fact he seemed pretty occupied. You stayed and returned several times in favour of pouring yourself another drink, and another drink, and another. By the time Dico was drunk, you were pretty wasted too.

Chris and Dico were now stood on top of April’s china cabinet, bent over as to not hit the ceiling and looking prepared to fling themselves off of it. You had missed some of the world building Dico seemed to have been doing as he was now impersonating a Russian magician? You weren’t completely sure. Brandon hit his chest with his fist, clearing his throat to address the audience that had formed to witness whatever the crazy kid was gonna do next.

(In a poor Russian accent) “Neow, for my nixt trick I-“ Dico was cut off when Raab unexpectedly shoved him off of the cabinet causing him to land on top of the wooden table with a loud crash, the table falling over with him. People gasped as he seemed to smash a couple glasses with his whole body on impact and even Chris looked a little alarmed. “Dico!” You shouted, running over to the guy, abandoning the drink in your hand in favour of helping your … friend. He lay down face first on the ground, smashed glass surrounding his head and what looked like red liquid around him, hopefully from someone’s forgotten drink. You pushed him on to his back to assess the damage as he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. “Are you okay?!” You asked, grabbing his face to look at the cuts that now adorned it. “I’m f-fine” He whimpered before groaning loudly when you touched a fresh wound. “Here, I need to get you cleaned up.” You spoke, trying your best to lift him off the ground, Chris then coming to your side to help. You brought Dico’s arm around your shoulder and began making your way up the stairs to Bam’s bathroom, knowing he had some sort of first aid kit in there. “Here let me help too.” Chris said, the guilt now sort of getting to him. Although the CKY crew hurt themselves and each other on a daily basis for content, when no camera was present it became a little less funny. “It’s fine Chris, I got him, just go.” You said, shooting him a stern look. You weren’t actually mad at him but you just wanted Dico to have some silence for a minute without being pestered by Raab.

You eventually made your way to the bathroom as you sat Dico down on the closed toilet seat. You began rooting through the cabinets for anything you could find to patch him up a little bit. “I’m fine y/n, it’ll just be bruising on my ribs and stuff, I’ll be okay, go back to the party.” Your heart panged a little. If only he knew he was the only reason you actually showed up to this thing. “You’re bleeding and-“ you took a closer look at his face, “Oh god you’ve still got glass in your face, come here.” You whipped out a tweezers that lay on the counter and got on your knees to be slightly face to face with Dico, thought he still had to lean down a little. You began pulling tiny shards out of his cuts and trying to ignore the fact he was looking straight into your eyes with your faces being so close together and your hand on the side of his face to steady him. “Why did you keep rejecting those guys tonight?” He asked, his voice was a little unsteady but you could tell he was sober enough to form coherent sentences. Your hands became a little shaky, suddenly remembering you were drunker than usual. “What do you mean?” You asked, knowing exactly what he meant. “A bunch of guys were going up to you and talking to you but you just kept shutting them down. You got a boyfriend we don’t know about?” He laughed and you laughed too, the irony of this guy noticing guys talking to you but not the fact you had a massive lady boner for him. “Not exactly.” You smiled flatly, trying to concentrate on the task at hand instead of your heart beating incredibly fast. “Well that’s vague.” He smirked but noted the fact you weren’t really laughing anymore. “Hey if you’re like a lesbian or something, you know that’s totally cool right?” You laughed at his sudden concern he might’ve been pushing too hard. “I’m not a lesbian or something Bran.” His smile returned at the sound of your laughter. “Okay, okay, but I have some hot lesbian friends I could set you up with you know?” God this guy could not take a hint for the life of him. “I don’t want you to set me up with anyone Dico.” You bit your lip, pulling what seemed to be the last piece of glass out of him. Dico took your wrist in his hand, forcing you to look him in the eyes now. An evil looking grin spread across his face. “You have a crush on someone don’t you?” A blush crept upon your face now that he was touching you in such close proximity and the question that fell off his lips was pushing you closer and closer to just spilling your guts. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said shakily, Dico immediately seeing through your lies. “Who is it?” He whispered, his low voice sending shivers down your back. You were probably bright red now, he had no idea, of course he didn’t! But god the urge to tell him was becoming too much to bear.

You didn’t know if this was the adrenaline or the alcohol coursing through your veins but something made you lean in and kiss Brandon softly. He was sat on the toilet seat blood still coating his face, you were on your knees in front of him. It was an awkward position and not exactly where you imagined having your first kiss with him but man, at least you grew a pair and just did it. The kiss only lasted a few seconds after you noticed Dico’s lips barely moved. You pulled away anxiously, eagerly wanting to suss out the expression on his face. It was total shock, talk about throwing someone off guard. “You still there?” You asked nervously, as he sat in complete silence, staring at you with wide eyes. “Me?!” He finally spoke and you giggled with a bit of relief as he didn’t seem mad or disgusted. “Well i feel like that’s sort of a given since I just kissed you Brandon.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I thought it’d be one of the pretty boys like Bam or Ryan?! You’re way too pretty for me y/n do you know that?” He put your hands in his as if having a heart to heart conversation making you laugh. “God you really are clueless you know that?” You grinned as you could see red creeping up on Dico’s face as a smile retuned. “What do you mean?” He asked, genuinely confused. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you for months it’s literally been a running joke with the guys that I’m constantly flirting with you and you just had no idea.” The boy looked bewildered, shaking his head, trying to remember the past couple months clearly. “I just thought you were being nice? I 100% figured you liked Bam or Ryan and that’s why you were being so friendly.” You laughed again, “Dico I’ve been following you around like a lost puppy for forever and you thought I liked someone else?” He smiled again.

“Doesn’t matter now anyways.” He stood up from his position and pulled you up too. He grabbed your face gently and landed a proper kiss on your lips, his other hand snaking around your waist while your hands flew up to loop around his neck. “Hey are you o- Oh fucking finally!” You both pulled away from the kiss to look at your intruder, a smiley Raab who was now calling the rest of the crew up to spread the good news. You beamed brightly as the guys made their way into the bathroom, shaking Dico’s hand comedically to congratulate him for waking up, despite the fact it took you laying one on him to realise. Now you guys had a good few months worth of kissing and … other things to catch up on.

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stuck-in-a-surrealist-painting · 2 years

Text

ROTTMNT Movie SPOILERS, you have been warned.

Soooo... I was watching the Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Movie for about the forth time when I noticed a couple fun things about the one clip of the apocalyptic future timeline, specifically about some attempted anti-krang battle strategies.

Thing 1: Donnie’s Ships

Within the first couple minutes of the movie Leo looks up to see a ship crashing out of the sky.

At first I just brushed it off as “oh yeah they’re in an active war zone of course ships are crashing” right? But then I looked at the ship and the other two that can be seen still in the sky in the same shot, and realized that they were very reminiscent of all of Donnie’s flying creations.

And while it could be argued that they are regular military aircraft carriers they do all have a use of purple highlights that matches the purple Donnie uses. They are definitely not Krang ships either because all Krang machinery follows a very organic flesh and bone like design.

This means that at some point between the present and this version of the future Donnie built what is probably an entire fleet of battleships, if not just the three shown in the movie.

Thing 2: April’s Guns

Towards the beginning of the movie, before the main plot really kicks up, April sneaks into a lab on her university campus in an attempt to prove they are developing dangerous chemicals. This is an event that would have happened in both timelines because it happens before Casey interacts with anyone in the past. While in the lab April takes some vials of a blue chemical.

These vials are one of the only things (aside from maybe mystic powers) that have been shown to actually damage the Krang in a lasting manner, as shown when April uses one on the Krang “sister”.

This same shade of blue is seen in the clip of the future as gun blasts being shot by humans at the Krang, and while this could just be an artistic choice, I don’t think it is.

I think that in the Apocalypse timeline April also discovered that the chemical can be used against the Krang, and gave that information to the resistance so that humans an those without mystic energy had a way to fight back against the Krang.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt movie spoilers

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ageofevermore · 2 years

Note

hi! could you maybe write a blurb with tom in which the reader has a car crash & she‘s waking up in the hospital but gets really anxious & starts panicking bc she hates hospitals but tom is there to calm her down? 🤍 thank you if you write it, you‘re amazing!!

this request is from april of twenty-one, but going through my inbox i felt drawn to writing something. it’s short and sweet, but i don’t hate it, so i hope you enjoy it! also, i no longer write for tom holland, so i adapted it for peter parker. i hope thats okay!

you woke up to the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and your pulse in the tips of your toes. your muscles everywhere ached, and from what you could feel, there was something heavy and restrictive around your left arm. groaning, whatever lights were above you blinded you when your eyes fluttered open. feeling like a herd of elephants was keeping your eyes shut, your head lulled to the side, trying to escape the bright florescent lighting.

you had no idea where you were, nor did you remember anything. it was like your body had wiped away the last twenty-three years of your life. struggling to open your eyes, a whimper broke from the center of your chest, alerting your roommate of your consciousness. unaware that peter had been sitting with you, his arm hands grabbing onto your bruised and cut up skin shocked you.

waves of panic spread through your chest like a wildfire, your eyes shooting open with an aching sense of adrenaline. it was like everything had come rushing back all at once. the fight, the storm, the car wreck. you’d been t-boned at an intersection near brooklyn, but everything after that was lost to you. you don’t know how long its been since the crash, you don’t know if you hit your head, but by the feeling in your body and the soft red cast around your left arm, you assume the damage is lasting, at least for the moment.

“hey, hey.” peter coos, brushing his fingers across your forehead. he tied your hair up and away from your face a few hours ago, but in your distress you’d pulled a few baby hairs away from the elastic. “shh, calm down baby. can you do that for me? take a deep breath in, that’s it.”

every muscle in your body ached, and the deep breathing wasn’t helping. you whimpered, trying to wiggle away from your own skin and the unbearable pain and tension. peter saw your discomfort, his eyes becoming glassy again as he took in the state of you. the fight was stupid, but you going out in the storm was even stupider. he told you not too, but you’d been so mad at him you grabbed the keys anyway and slammed the door behind you. it was his fault you were so mad, his fault, and now look at you. bruised and cut, a broken arm, a concussion. its all his fault.

“let me go get the nurse, baby. she’ll give you more pain medication.” peter pulled away from your touch, his warmth simmering away into a memory, letting goosebumps cover all the places he’d been touching.

you shook your head, “stay. please. i need you.”

“you’re hurting baby, it’ll be quick.”

“i just need you, peter.” becoming hysterical all over again, peter came back to your side, one hand in yours and the other brushing fly always away from your eyes and forehead. “i love you.”

“i’m sorry.”

#peter parker #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #peter parker request #peter parker oneshot #ask: kayasholland #kyr answers

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chloeillustrates16 · 1 year

Text

Sing To Me (Rise Version)

(My personal head canon is that all the Leos love country music and will unironically blast it in the lair when their brothers are away).

(I wrote a 2k16 version of Leo).

Summary: Leo will die if his brothers find out he listens to country music. He's willing to keep it till the grave.

Warnings: Some swearing, Y/n uses she/her, personal head canons, fluff

To say it was embarrassing was an understatement; if Donnie found out that Leo like country music, he wouldn't hear the end of it. Yet, here he was, alone in the lair. Leo was still healing from the Kraang fight; having to take a lot of damage in the Prison Dimension. It took months for Leo to convince Raph that he was okay on his own.

Leo bounced his foot against the concrete as music flowed from his speakers. Leo hated cleaning, it was one of his least favorite activities, but he had nothing else to do. He needed to get his mind off of the memories that plagued his mind. So, music blasting in the background as his hands roamed around his room and put things into drawers.

---

You've been friends with the turtles for years. It wasn't long after April met them; being friends, April trusted you with the greatest secret known to man.

Your footsteps echoed off the sewer walls as you arrived in the lair; Raph called, saying that they left Leo alone and wanted you to keep him company. You immediately agreed to it; Leo was your friend; you'd do anything for him.

You approached the lair, shock running through your bones as you heard loud music originating from Leo's room. It wasn't the typical music he'd listen to either. Was this country?

You snuck your way near the door of the abandoned subway cart; you saw Leo moving around his room while singing. You lean against the entrance, smiling as Leo spun around his room. He stopped short; he saw your body in the corner of his eye.

His face felt like a million degrees as he turned to you, "Hey, what's up?" he asked, trying to be nonchalantly as possible.

"Since when do you listen to country music?"

"Uh...awhile," crashed to his knees. "Please, Y/n, don't tell Donnie, I hear the end of it!" he begged, "I'll do anything, anything!"

"How about a dance?" he paused,

"Huh?"

"Take it or leave it," he swallowed.

"Sure," you were only fucking with him. This is pay back for all the shit he's done to you, right?

Nervously, Leo wrapped his arm around your waist, the music changed, "Can you sing again? I really liked it."

"You liked my singing?"

"Uh-huh," okay. Now, he was definitely dreaming. Okay, this is okay, if it is a dream then why not, sure. Come on, Nardo, you're the Face-man! Do what you do best and sweep her off her feet.

"I'm booking myself a one-way flight; I gotta see the color in your eyes. Telling myself I'm going to alright, without you, Baby, is a waste of time. Yeah, our first date, Girl, the seasons change, it got washed away in the summer rain. You can't undo a fall like this, cause love don't know what distance is. Yeah, I know that's crazy." he chuckled, "But I don't want good, and I don't want good enough; I want, can't sleep, can't breathe, without your love!"

You stare into Leo's big obsidian eyes; you felt your heart race. "Front porch and one more kiss; it doesn't make sense to anybody else. Who cares if you're all I think about? I searched the world and I know now, it ain't right if you ain't lost your mind! Yeah, I don't want easy, I want crazy! Are you with my, Baby? Let's be crazy!" He laughs along with you, "Well, I don't wanna be scared; don't wanna know why. Wanna feel good, don't have to be right; the world makes all kinds of rules for love; I say you gotta let it do what it does! I don't want just another hug and a kiss good night!"

"Catchin' up calls and a date, sometimes I love that we're rebels, and we still believe; We're the kind of crazy people wish that they could be, and I know we're crazy, yeah! But I don't want good, and I don't want good enough; I want, can't sleep, can't breathe without your love! Front porch and one more kiss; it doesn't make sense to anybody else! Who cares if you're all I think about? I've searched the world and I know now, it ain't right if you ain't lost your mind; yeah, I don't want easy, I want crazy! Are you with me, Baby? Let's be crazy!"

Your bodies dances together, almost harmoniously. Your arms were tight around his neck as he spun you around his room, his hands tight on your hips.

"No, I don't want good, and I don't want good enough; I want, can't sleep, can't breathe without your love! Front porch and one more kiss; it doesn't make sense to anybody else! Who cares if you're all I think about? I've searched the world and I know now, it ain't right if you ain't lost your mind; yeah, I don't want easy, I want crazy; Yeah, look at us baby; tonight, the midnight rules are breaking. There's no such thing as wild enough, maybe we just think too much. Who needs to play it safe in love? Let's be crazy! Who cares if we're crazy? We gotta be crazy; I know that we're crazy, so let's be crazy, yeah!"

You covered your mouth as Leo felt like he was on cloud nine. He pulled you so close to his chest while dancing, he didn't realize how bold he was being. Leo swallowed thickly as he stared down at your lips, you stop laughing and look at him.

Both hearts racing in sync. Leo pulls you closer, his lips softly pressed against your own. It was unsure, you hum against his lips as you press forward. Leo smiled against the kiss before pulling away.

"I told you I could sweep you off your feet," he chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah; whatever you say," you whisper. Another song came on; he began singing again.

"Duffle bag, backseat; my dash, your feet. Those other side of the highway, headlights making you shine." You thought why not to join,

"My hand, your leg; playlist, playing; even though I haven't made it yet; I'd draggin it, droppin it, in my mind. You're a drive real slow; down no lane road; to a house on a hill where the wild things grow! You're a wake up in pajamas; not a trace of makeup on ya! You're a help fix her it; having breakfast with my mama; you're a take back home, home, home girl! Home, home, home girl; take back home, home, home girl; home, home, home girl!"

You started, "You're the kind I wanna take a ride with; sit by on a Friday night! In the stadium; lights side by side. All the lady's like, Yeah, she's doing just fine."

Your smile as Leo joined back in, "Everybody in the bleachers; they all gon' wanna meet ya from my teachers to my preacher! My little crowd pleaser; parading with you feeling homecoming cool, yeah! I wanna drive real slow, down a no name road; to a house on a hill, where the wild things grow! You're a wakeup in pajamas; not a trace of makeup on ya! You're a help her fix it; having breakfast with my mama! You're a take back home, home, home girl! Home, home, home girl; take back home, home, home girl; home, home, home girl!"

You gasp as Leo pressed you closer to his plastron, "You're a take back; You're a take back! You're a take back home; you're a take back home! You're a take back home girl. You got that down home homegrown, found on good ground soul; that down home homegrown, found on good ground soul. You're a drive real slow, down a no name road to a house on a hill, where the wild things grow! You're a wakeup in pajamas; no trace of makeup on ya. you're a help her fit it; breakfast with my mama! You're a take back home, home, home girl; home, home, home girl; take back home, home, home girl; home, home, home girl! You're a take back; you're a take back; you're a take back home; you're a take back home! you're a take back home; you're a take back home."

Chewing on your lips, Leo smiled, "Who knew you could sing?" You scoff,

"You're better."

"As much as I agree with you; you're not too bad yourself." You blush, as Leo pulled you over to the bed.

"Can I just lay on you?" he asked, you nod. His head pressed against your chest; you hum softly to him as you scratched his shell. It wasn't long before Leo fell asleep with you in his arms; unwilling to let go.

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

Songs used:

I Want Crazy (Encore)--Hunter Hayes

Take Back Home Girl--Chris Lane ft. Tori Kelly

#x reader #fanfic #reader insert #fanfiction #tmnt leonardo #rise of the tmnt #music fic #leonardo #rise leo #teenage mutant ninja turtles #head cannons

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aealzx · 1 year

Text

Better Genes part 29.1

Part 1 of 3 extra, illustrated writing additions to the Better Genes comic.

Takes place between page 29 and 30.

Contains: Use of sedatives, character injury, blood, TV Medicine, TV Science, panic attack, mutation body horror, injured eye, severely sprained ankle, overall body pain

Comic: Start pg 26-29

Writing: Part 2 Part 3

____________

I got a couple comments about being excited for monster Donnie content (despite mentioning that there wasn’t going to be much) and felt kind of bad for not having much. ;v; There was no way I was going to add another 30 pages or more to the comic though, especially since I’ve never even tried to do fight scenes in comic form before. X’D

So instead I wrote 8 pages and drew 3 more flat colored pics as a sort of middle ground.

Talking with my platonic waifu, since the comic is on tumblr I’m also going to put the writing on tumblr instead of AO3 despite it being long because cross platform content can be annoying. Everything will be split into 3 posts, underneath a read more break to hopefully not stretch the screen a horrendous amount.

____________

(Story and drawing under the cut)

With a quick swish of his temporarily manifested blade, Leo opened a portal to the part of the sewers that was a short distance from where he’d sent Donnie. He didn’t want to pop in right next to him and startle him into attacking them after all. It would be better if they could sneak up on him and pop a few rounds of sedatives into him first. Unfortunately, when Leo stepped through the portal he was greeted with Casey’s back coming in hot directly at his face, having gotten bodily launched across the sewer tunnel by Donnie’s clawed hand. With a startled, halfway muffled yelp, Leo dodged to the side slightly and flung an arm up quick enough to catch Casey and help him regain his footing instead of crashing into the others filtering through the portal as well.

“Alright there Case?” Leo asked with a forced grin, trying to remain optimistic despite the scene before him being the unwanted route. So much for sneaking up on their brother.

“Sorry Master-! Ah… Sorry Leo. He noticed we were following him and got angry,” Casey babbled hurriedly. His upbringing made him quick to give an update on the situation, which also ended up answering Leo’s unasked question about what had ticked Donnie off.

“Yeah, that sounds like Donnie,” Leo chuckled, removing his hand from supporting Casey now that he had his balance back. “He always was quick to lash out when we got in his space when he didn't want us there. Too bad it’s time for his medicine, so we can’t give into his cranky wishes for alone time,” he added dramatically, gesturing to the injection pens Mikey had now that he and April had joined them as well. “We got the antibodies, so we’re ready to take him down and bring him back home. Thanks for sticking it out until now.”

Casey’s expression turned into a sheepish yet grateful smile, but before he could respond Raph’s bellowing voice echoed through the tunnel from close by.

“LEO! You didn’t mention he’d grown another meter!” Raph complained emphatically as he was grappling Donnie’s mutated mouth with ninpo covered hands. He didn’t fancy getting bitten by Donnie’s new set of fangs, considering his original set of teeth already did enough damage when he was legitimately angry. And if Raph knew anything about Donnie’s levels of anger, then he would guess Donnie was beyond pissed at the moment. That combined with his new size made grappling him a losing battle, Raph’s heels dragging paths in the dirt as he was shoved backwards.

“I figured that was rather self explanatory considering what he got infected from,” Leo sassed back, loading one of the sedative darts into the gun and taking aim. He was hesitant to fire with Raph directly in the path, but luckily for both of them a quick snap from Splinter’s tail saved Raph from being Donnie’s new chew toy. The forward momentum was broken, and Raph quickly opened his hands as Donnie’s head was knocked to the side.

As April rushed forward, her name belted from her lips, Leo figured he should pass a word of caution to them all just so it would be explicitly known. “Try not to piss him off too much please. We need him rather still for Mikey to administer the antibodies,” he warned, pulling the trigger on the tranquilizer gun when he felt he wasn't going to hit anyone but the intended target. He ended up wincing in apology the dart smacked Donnie in the side of the nose, causing him to recoil slightly from the sting before shaking the dart dart off and turning to snarl at Leo.

“...Maybe you shouldn’t shoot him in the face then,” Casey commented lightly with a weak chuckle, a slight tease, and an analytical pause for an opening before he ran forward to join the fray once more.

“Okay, so aiming in real life is a lot different from video games,” Leo defended with a sheepish shrug. Donnie apparently thought that was enough of an offense to warrant revenge, for he started to charge towards Leo, causing him to start backing up. “Mikey, I need a weight estimate.”

“Got it!” Mikey chirped, securing the injection pens into his belts and darting forward to dash towards Donnie before feinting to the side. Considering Donnie was way too tall for him to grapple anything but his arms or legs now, Mikey had coiling chains wrap around Donnie’s middle as additional ones helped fling him overhead. Twisting in the air, Mikey latched onto the handholds he’d created and used them and his momentum to heave Donnie into a rather gentle toss a few meters away. “Uhhhh….He’s kinda like one of those tiny smart car things?” Mikey called back to Leo after landing on his feet again in a crouch. “When do I start poking him?”

A smart car? That was a weird comparison. But it actually made sense when Leo remembered Mikey’s usual choice of throwing arsenal. But that definitely wasn’t something he knew the weight of by memory. Which meant he was digging his phone out of his shell for a quick internet look up. “As soon as you’re confident you can hold it in place for 8 seconds,” Leo answered, half distracted by the phone. About 700 kilograms? Well, it was better than a complete guess. He’d just have to play on the safe side and maybe do one or two doses less than calculated for that weight. Loading another sedative dart as he calculated the maximum quantity he was allowed to use in his head, he tried to push away the usual second guessing his brain did. Based on the tests he’d done in Donnie’s lab with the left over blood sample, the mutated physique caused him to have a slightly accelerated metabolism rate with the sedatives, and therefore he should be able to safely use 8 darts before he risked an overdose. Now that he had a set number Leo raised the gun and fired another dart, stabbing Donnie in the crook of his shoulder.

That made two.

This felt too slow. Half of his team was already worn down somewhat, and he was taking too long to aim and wait for an opening with all of them swarming around Donnie like flies on old cheese. Every time they tried to break away from him though he was immediately lashing out at one of them, causing the others to rush back in to support. Sliding another dart into the gun’s slot, Leo started walking towards his brother, hoping that closing the distance would make it easier and faster to hit him with more sedatives. It would also be great if he didn’t have to reload the gun after every single shot. But Donnie apparently hadn’t made the gun for rapid fire. Unusual for him honestly. Taking aim, Leo’s focus was split as he pulled the trigger when Raph gave an unusually pain filled yelp. Donnie’s new tail had caught him in the side of the head, close enough to the tunnel wall to bounce him off the surface slightly. It was enough to cause Leo to suck in a tense breath, knowing that Raph’s scar was fragile, and look towards him before the trigger was fully pulled. Consequently, the third shot ended up missing, crashing into the opposite wall and probably snapping the needle. That was fine. That’s why they filled an excessive amount of darts. There were more important issues at the moment.

“Raph?” Leo called in a nervous question, seeing his older brother pushing a palm against his right eye.

“I’m okay!” Raph assured, keeping his palm in place until the sting subsided, then pulled his hand away. While he checked to see if there was any blood on his fingers, Donnie’s back foot knocked him over and ended up using him as a pedestal to stand on while he avoided April’s swinging bat. Raph’s breath left him in a huff, and he wrapped his arms around Donnie’s toes to try and relieve the pressure on his chest.

Figuring he should help Raph out, Leo dashed forward as Mikey lept into a split arc over the top of Donnie, apparently having the same goal. Splinter was focused on keeping Donnie from hurting the others, knocking his clawed hand away when he swiped at April. “Boy! You better watch where you're swinging those!” April hollered, having ducked and shielded her head before realizing Splinter had protected her.

“Try not to hurt him too much, it’s still Donnie!” Leo hollered in return, rushing to dive underneath Donnie in a slide while also pointing the tranquilizer gun at him half blindly and pulling the trigger while barely missing getting swatted instead. Being this close to him it would be hard to miss. Or at least he hoped as such. But he also needed to check and make sure Raph was okay. Skidding to a stop next to Raph, Leo allowed Raph to use his ninpo to shove Donnie’s foot off himself before he took a glancing look at his squinting eye.

#my art #my writing #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #better genes #better genes add on #Leo #Raph #Mikey #April #Casey #Donnie #Medic Leo #use of sedatives #written eye injury

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berryflops · 2 years

Text

" history " | part seven

masterlist | word count: 1, 253 | warnings: angst, fluff, maybe swearing idk?

authors note: fair warning, the series will be based off scenes in the show with elements of the books. every single scene will come from the show unless it is a made-up flashback, and if something is mentioned that you don't understand please let me know, so i can let you know if it was a mistake or if it was in the book :)

I collapsed on my bed, tears streaming down my face as I sobbed into my pillow. My lungs were coiled tightly, a feeling I hated having. The ache that vibrated through my body was horrifying, hitting in waves every time it paused.

I hated Jeremiah Fisher. I didn’t know why I thought this summer would be any different. But all those small moments we had, I’d thought they added to something bigger. Maybe I had overreacted. But my whole life, I was second to Belly Conklin. With Steven, of course. With Susannah and Laurel, always. With Conrad, although I didn’t mind that one too much because of how close he and I were, and how differently he viewed us both.

But Jeremiah. We were the same thing to Jeremiah, until Belly became more. And that was when I realized that no matter what happened to me, Belly would always come first. He’d always help her first. Even if he never clarified it, I knew. I always knew when it came to Jeremiah Fisher.

As my feet sunk into the sand, small grains slipping through my toes, I looked out at the beach to see a familiar figure. He was taller than before, but he was always growing more than the rest of us.

I approached him slowly and sat beside him, not turning my face. The waves crashed onto our feet, slipping away before any damage could occur.

“Hi.” Conrad spoke, taking a puff from his cigarette and looking towards me.

“Hey.” I turned my gaze to the side. Conrad was like a mirror of me, eyes slightly red rimmed and empty. Looks like we’d both had rough nights.

“Haven’t talked much this summer.” he blew out, a hazy cloud in front of him. I held my hand out and was surprised when he didn’t lecture me, instead handing me the cigarette.

I took a puff myself, blowing out before speaking again. “We’re such a mess.”

Conrad smiled, taking his cigarette back. “When were we not.” I gave him the trace of a smile before staring right back at the ocean.

The ocean went on forever, not really, but in my terms it did. Looking at it made me feel small, but important. Like next to the ocean even I mattered.

“Jeremiah and I are fighting again.” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Conrad sighed. “Remember the first time you guys fought?”

I thought about it, searching my memory. I suddenly remembered our first real fight, when we were eight.

I’d forgotten to tell him when my birthday was. Jeremiah forgot a lot, although he never forgot my birthday. That day he’d been busy, and I hadn’t minded. But when he called later that month, asking when my birthday was, and I said it had already passed, he wouldn’t talk to me.

We went April to mid-June without talking, before Conrad made us talk it out. When we made up it was like the house gave a huge sigh of relief.

“Yeah. You locked us in his room for three hours, and Jere hates not talking.” I recalled. Conrad nodded.

“You two could have worked it out without me. Honestly, I think you and Jeremiah could work anything out if you put aside your goddamn stubbornness.” he chuckled. “You guys are so alike, yet so different, and you balance each other out in every single way but your stubbornness.”

I thought for a moment, thinking through my words. “Jere and I only keep secrets because we’re stubborn, don’t we? No one wants to admit anything first.”

Conrad nodded. “Just sit down and talk, Sam. Trust me on this.”

“Thanks, Connie.” I relaxed. We were silent for a few moments before Conrad started talking.

“I’m fucking everything up with her.” his voice was steady, like he was sure of himself.

“I know.” I looked at him. “But don’t be scared, Con. Be you. Shove everything aside and be the kid who danced with Belly when no one else would. She knows that Conrad. She cares about that Conrad. Although she’d care about you no matter what.”

Conrad stood up and held out a hand for me to follow. I took it, letting him pull me up. He hugged me lightly, like the echo of a touch, before waving and walking away.

I looked towards my house to see my brother walking towards me and I jogged to meet him halfway. “Tate.” I said.

Tate took my arm and walked with me towards the house. We didn’t say anything because we didn’t need to. Tate looked away while I changed, I looked away for him. And then we crawled into bed, his head at my feet, and fell asleep easily. Like we always had.

I’d woken up early that morning and decided to make breakfast. Normally we’d go over to the Beck’s house, but I didn’t think I wanted to.

When Tate walked in with Angela trailing behind him, I’d finished up the eggs. They were sunny side up, and I’d filled four plates along with bacon.

A fruit salad sat on the counter, next to three different cereals. I’d set out Nutella and syrup, knowing Angela would eat both. On top of that, there were pancakes, chocolate chips peeking out.

Jeremiah had taught me a lot as a kid. I could never escape Jeremiah in my life.

“Thank you,” Angela yawned, letting Tate lift her up onto a chair. He took his own spot and easily finished his three strips of bacon.

“That’s awesome.” he held out his fist for a fist bump, and I obliged, going along with him into our handshake.

Angela pouted. “I wanna handshake!” She stuck her hand out and I giggled as Tate started instructing her.

My dad was reluctantly dragging himself inside, although he perked up immediately after seeing the spread on the counter.

He slide into his own seat next to Tate, grinning at me lazily. “Didn’t think we’d see you two this morning.” I smiled.

“We decided to be with our family. Haven’t been together in a while, have we?” Angela nodded eagerly.

Tate took a pancake and bit into it, gaining a disappointing glance at him. He stopped before his second bite, letting me hand him a plate so he could load it with pancakes and syrup.

My dad finished his plate faster then Tate and I had, helping Angela finish her egg. “You’ve forgotten to eat, haven’t you?” I tusked, immediately loading fruit onto his plate. He shrugged, scooping over half the fruit up immediately.

I let Tate have my own bacon, taking bites of my egg and finishing it easily. My dad poured himself a bowl of cereal, grabbing milk from the fridge. I ate the rest of the fruit salad and helped Angela eat Nutella slathered pancakes.

Soon enough everything was finished. Tate put away the cereal and my dad put away the milk. Angela got on my shoulders to shelf the Nutella and syrup, letting me run her around the place afterward.

Eventually, we'd all settled in front of the TV, Gilmore Girls playing on the screen. Tate was laying across the couch with Angela on top of him, and me at their feet. Dad was in his armchair.

And it was just like before, all of us watching mom's favorite show for the whole day, just to make her happy. That's the thing about grief. You'd do anything to keep them close, while still trying to let go.

#tsitp #tsitp fanfic #tsitp belly #tsitp conrad #tsitp jeremiah #tsitp steven #the summer i turned pretty #teamjelly #teamconbad #jeremiah fisher x oc #conrad fisher #jeremiah fisher #steven conklin #belly conklin #jeremiah fisher fic

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naturalrights-retard · 1 year

Text

An anonymous pilot leaked a letter to the media this week showing that the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) issued a first-class medical clearance to another pilot with a known medical history that includes “possible” vaccine-induced myocarditis.

With names and dates redacted, the letter states that the medical clearance came from the FAA’s Civil Aerospace Medical Institute in Oklahoma City. It reads, in part, as follows:

“You are cautioned to abide by Title 14 of the CFR’s, Section 61.53, relating to operations during medical deficiency.

“Because of your history of possible Vaccine induced Myocarditis, Hyperlipidemia, Ganglion Cyst removal Left Hand, and Knee pain, operation of aircraft is prohibited at any time new symptoms or adverse changes occur in your health status.”

Having made no attempt whatsoever to investigate and assess the pilot in question to ensure that he is safe to fly, the FAA appears to have decided to simply rubber-stamp the medical clearance, further stating to the pilot upon approval:

“Our review of your medical records has established that you are eligible for a first-class medical certificate.”

(Related: As fully vaccinated pilots continue to drop dead, airlines are cutting the required training hours for new pilots, putting air travelers at risk.)

Are commercial airlines allowing vaccine-damaged pilots to fly their planes?

There are several classes of pilot licensing issued by the FAA, the first-class type obviously being ahead of the pack.

According to the agency, a first-class medical certificate generally “is designed for the airline transport pilot” while “second-class [is] for the commercial pilot, and third-class for the student, recreational and private pilot.”

That the FAA would award this possibly health-damaged pilot its top certificate is stunning in and of itself. Even more shocking is that this is the first known instance in which the FAA acknowledged a vaccine injury, let alone one stemming from Wuhan coronavirus (Covid-19) “vaccines.”

Back on January 24, Federal Air Surgeon Susan Northrup, MD, MPH, announced that the FAA has seen “no evidence” of Fauci Flu shot injuries that have led to “aircraft accidents or pilot incapacitations.”

Later in February, Northrup changed her story by admitting that she was “aware of only four potentially vaccine-related adverse events in active pilots.” Of these, “only one [pilot] has provided medical documentation through the normal process,” she added, failing to describe what the “normal process” actually is.

It turns out that the FAA and Northrup knew at least as far back as April 2022 that some pilots had become injured by covid injections. These injuries first emerged, as far as we can tell, around December 2021, according to a letter from the California-based Advocates for Citizens’ Rights that was hand-delivered to the FAA and several other federal agencies, including the U.S. Department of Transportation.

“The letter included data showing pilots across the aviation industry – including commercial, military and general aviation pilots – face increased health risks from the COVID-19 vaccines due to the unique nature of their profession,” reported The Defender.

“The letter referred to specific incidents, including the case of an agricultural pilot, Cody Flint, who nearly blacked out while flying but managed to land his plane safely – although he has no recollection of how he did it.”

In a later interview with The Defender, Flint said the incident occurred just two days after he received his first and only dose of the two-part primary mRNA (messenger RNA) series from Pfizer and BioNTech in February 2021.

“My intracranial pressure had risen so high that it caused both of my inner ears to ‘blow out,'” Flint said, adding that doctors told him this type of thing is usually caused by major head trauma.

The latest news about the destruction of society by covid “vaccine” can be found at ChemicalViolence.com.

Sources for this article include:

ChildrensHealthDefense.org

NaturalNews.com

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feralgodmothers · 1 year

Note

I can’t bring myself to hate Christopher. I know it’s popular to hate him. But it’s the same deal as dean? What crime did he actually commit except be the woman’s first love? And a reminder of who she was before the most popular fandom choice? I prefer Luke for Lorelai. But I can’t hate Christopher. Sherry whatsherface and Anna Nardini on the other hand….let’s just say I don’t take well to people willingly abandoning their children. And the less said about April’s two faced, passive aggressive mother the better.

Ps. I remembered that Anna Nardini’s actress played Mariano’s defacto stepmother and I am CACKLING!!!!!

I feel exactly the same way, anon. Like… to a T.

People in this fandom hate on Chris as if being flaky is the most heinous thing a parent can ever be. (I mean, hey - I’m glad they’re all in such a fantastic place where their standards can be sky high, and that they all have the perfect parents or whatever, but good GOD. We have to stop babying Rory so much. Like aww, her life isn’t picture perfect?)

I hate to come across as the person in the anti-Chris debate who’s like ‘other people have it so much worse’, but… I mean-

Come on. IT IS NOT THAT SERIOUS.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I would happily trade fathers with Rory in a heartbeat. (No take-backs though. I’d keep Christopher, and she can pass on my father to some unsuspecting sap like the demon from It Follows.)

He loves (and even likes) Rory and is glad she exists. That’s at least the first step in being a decent parent in my books. I’ll admit - my bar for fathers is probably a little lower than it should be, but even taking that into consideration - the amount of hate Christopher gets is ridiculous. I think if you took away the fact that he’s the main obstacle to a fan favorite ship, people wouldn’t be overly bothered by him. His only “crime” is that he wasn’t around in person regularly, but his situation is a little weird, tbh. He’s still in love with Lorelai, and she sort of loves him too, but she doesn’t want them to be a traditional family, etc. It would be kind of awkward to navigate that, but he still called Rory on the phone fairly regularly, helped pay for her education, and immediately rushed to SH and stayed up all night when Rory ended up in the hospital after the car crash (the first and only real injury she’s ever had if I remember right?). People who call him a “deadbeat dad” really need to look up what that term actually means. He was invested enough in his relationship with Rory that he actually got upset and was ready to fight with Lorelai when Rory stopped communicating with him and he believed that Lorelai was behind it. People argue that he only cares about Lorelai, and always shows up only because of her, but that’s clearly untrue. And you’re absolutely right - he gets the Dean Forester treatment. He’s the wrench in their preferred ship, so they exaggerate his negative qualities to rationalize their blind hatred. It’s insane (and more than a little annoying). To me, if you don’t like a character, that’s fine - but the least you can do is be honest about why you don’t like them. Don’t try to feed me your fan-made caricatures. This show gives us enough examples of actual bad parents without the fandom treating the middling ones like they’re the spawn of Satan. Why hate Liz and Chris when Jimmy, Sherry, Anna (and a lot of times, Emily and Richard) are RIGHT THERE? Plus, I think ASP felt the same way and tried to do some damage control with the fandom when she wrote Dean and Chris’ scenes in AYITL. I think Rory’s interactions with them (her monologue about Dean being a great boyfriend, and Chris asking not to be painted as “too much of a villain”) was a pointed hint on how she wanted the fandom to feel about those characters. Funny how people will respect her authority as the creator only when she conveniently aligns with their opinions. 😒

I think I hate Anna more as a person than as a parent. April may have received some collateral emotional damage (and I obviously don’t like that), but my main beef with Anna was her treatment of Luke. There was literally no reason for her to be so nasty to him or to be as possessive over April as she was.

Sherry was god-awful. It’s probably a good thing Chris chose to stay with her in S2, because if he hadn’t - Sherry might have left Gigi in a dumpster or something.

I think Sherry abandoning Gigi and leaving Chris to be a single dad served as a major highlight of Chris and Lorelai being the “timing was never right” sort of couple. They had an undeniable bond, and ended up leading parallel lives, 19 (?) years apart. If it wasn’t for Luke (and I say this as a hardcore Luke/Lorelai shipper), I think Chris and Lorelai would have been a no-brainer option for each other. Even though I love Luke/Lorelai more, I do love Chris/Lorelai - both together and separately (even though the writing in S7 made them a little weird). I think their relationship is very bittersweet and tragic, and they break my heart a little bit.

#asks #gilmore girls #christopher hayden #I never even caught that it was the same actress who played Anna and whats-her-name! 😳

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