#but I just think it isn’t reasonable to be mad

[oimitocat]

STRAY KIDS REACTION….

… to boyfriend!reader being angry and they find it hot (nsfw warning) (hyung line!)

ᡴꪫ CHAN… was extremely similar to you. you’re a lay-backed person, sure sometimes you have episodes where you’re not exactly in the mood to socialize but still, you’re charismatic and let things slide more than he does. you always say it’s because you don’t have energy to entertain that stuff.

yet, seeing you angry — TRULY angry, was something he’d never think he’d get to see. so color him surprised when he hears you shout and pace. the furrow of your brows, your darkened eyes. you looked… good. that tone, he’d never heard it and… it stirred something in the pit of his stomach.

“something wrong?” he asks after a while of eye fucking you.

“company said i need to go on a damn hiatus because some shitheads are spreading a rumor. i could care less, why do they have to make it seem like i’m anxious or whatever?”

chan blinks. “rumor?”

“yeah, super stupid. all i did was call them to say i wasn’t happy with how our last show ended. dude, they literally couldn’t get my headset to work, i had to wing the timing and stuff. their lack of work effort pisses me off.” you groan.

“i know but…” chan pauses when you glare at him. he swallows, “hey, i mean a hiatus is good. you get to rest.”

“i don’t want to rest-“

“i get to have you all to myself without worrying about you missing out on your schedule.”

“if you’re bored, play with me. if you’re angry, take it out on me. you’ll have all the time to do so.” he grins.

you blink, “i- what?” and you can’t even be angry anymore… just frustrated. but chan will also take that.

ᡴꪫ MINHO… had the habit of annoying you and frustrating you sometimes, but never actually making you angry. as idol’s there is a lot of things that can drive you mad. minho for example hates wardrobe malfunctions. fans went crazy over some clips of him angry and upset over a few outfits and so have you.

you never really cared for much, at the end of the day you get a nice paycheck and you’re good to go. still, that doesn’t mean you don’t care about your job. so when he sees that your mic isn’t working and you’re more than upset at the lack of resolve from the sound techs…. he simply cannot look away.

even when you get off the stage, you’re glaring and absolutely not in the mood. everything you do is with anger— ripping off your headset, wiping off your sweat, loosening your outfit. goodness, you look delectable.

“you mad?” he asks teasingly, of course he has to tease.

“i’m not in the mood minho.”

oh! that anger had a pretty tone. “fuck,” he breathes out, pressing himself closer to you, “you gonna take it out on me?” and your eyes bored into him.

he definitely didn’t regret it later.

ᡴꪫ CHANGBIN…. didn’t know you could get angry. he’s only seen you be all soft and gushy. he’s seen you be defensive and stern but never angry. he’s literally making his way to the studio when he hears your voice boom outside the door. worried, he walks in and sees how your standing and yelling at the other producer.

“what’s-?”

“-how long it’s taken us to keep these files and you forget to save them?!”

the producer fidgets, “doesn’t change have a copy? he always has a copy-“

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN THE COPY IS THE SAME AS WHAT WE WERE ADDING TO IT YESTERDAY! you can’t recreate something that was authentic!” you pace, pulling at your hair, “shit man, i worked so hard on that!”

“y/n calm down,” he tries, “what file is it-?”

“changbin, i literally cannot right now.” and you leave.

in the end the file wasn’t deleted, just misplaced in the wrong folder to which it was saved. still, the lack of clarity pissed you off. you didn’t want to work that day and changbin was trying so hard to coax you. yet, seeing you mad was so good for some reason. changbin knew he could make you feel better (totally not feeling you with his hands? and you being angry was making things fun.

ᡴꪫ HYUNJIN…. doesn’t remember a time where you’ve been angry. he’s also never even wanted to. he doesn’t like noise and he remembers how you always say you blow up when angry. hence, when he hears you slam your fist on the desk, he jumps. you’re dramatic like him, so he tried not to think much of it except…

“are you kidding me?” he hear you say with an ominous tone. low and sultry, makes him pause. “so you’re saying that you’re wasting my damn time.”

he peeks over at, seeing you frown and glare at the wall while on the phone. he doesn’t think he’s ever seen that look on you… his mind starts to wander…. would that expression look at him? you’re talking, angry, clearly. and it’s so…

“why are you angry?” he asks when you hang up with an insult and throw your phone of the desk.

“cus apparently i have to do everything myself. why the hell would you-“ and he zones out, watching your angrily rant.

you plop down on the chair, angry. he stands and walks over to you, desire in his gut. “baby don’t be mad…” “well i wouldn’t if they did what i was paying them to do.” “-let’s get your mind off that, yeah?”

and boy did he.

[joezworld]

Hey everyone seems real sad for some reason. Could not imagine why.

Anyways if you squint real hard you may notice a similarity to Thomas and the Jet Engine. That is intentional.

You can also squint and notice some similarity to several Traintober prompts. That is intentional.

Also, if you notice any similarity to any of SiF's character names... that's right! That is intentional. I did that and it's on purpose and I'm making fun of them. If you're from SiF either recognize that it was a dumb name or die mad about it.

Pip and Emma at The Top

2021 - The Summer

It was the longest summer since the last one. There weren’t any tourists - obviously - but even the inter-island traffic had died down considerably. The government on the mainland was skittishly enacting and then subsequently revoking plans to allow gatherings again, and the people of Sodor were prudently trying to keep the Island’s activities out of London’s sphere of notice. 

As events were curtailed and people limited their own travel, the railway cut back on services, as they’d done several times before. Pip and Emma were the first to be relegated to the yards; while they could run a much shorter train - and often did - a shortage-related spike in the price of diesel fuel meant that it was more economical for James or Henry to take the two diesels' trains instead. 

Henry had tried to make sense of how the economics on that worked out, but numbers were not his strong suit, and so he instead passed along his sympathies every time he passed the twins in the yard. 

James (and no-one else) thought that he was being rather magnanimous by not endlessly laughing about how he was cheaper to run than a diesel. Several cutting responses had been prepared if he ever got too full of himself, but shockingly he’d kept the snickering to a bare minimum. 

As the days stretched on into a week, and then two, a bigger problem soon began to present itself:

“I’m bored, Pip!”

“Me too!” 

Pip and Emma were getting restless.

“WILL YOU TWO KEEP IT DOWN?! IT IS THREE IN THE MORNING!”

And they were more than willing to make that everyone else’s problem. 

-

A few days later, and the diesels were overjoyed when an inspector came to them with instructions to report to the works. 

Equally overjoyed were the engines in the big shed. 

-

Pip and Emma arrived at the works in a right state, having been held up by trackwork along the main line. 

“Two hours! Can you believe it Emma?”

“I don’t like running light engine, they can push us around too much.”

“Right? We’re express engines, not a train of old rubbish!” “I think they prioritized the rubbish train over us, if that smell at Kellsthorpe Road was anything to go by.”

“Ugh!”

-

Mr. Tedfield, the Works Manager, eventually arrived, bringing an end to their complaining. “Right you two. Seems like we’ve got some work for you.”

“Here?” They chorused. 

“No,” he said quickly. “But the work is going to be a lot different from your usual job, and we’re gonna have to do some modifications.”

“Oh no,” Pip cried. “It’s going to be buffers, isn’t it?”

“How did you know?” The man was baffled. 

“It’s the only thing it could be, sir.” Emma explained. “That’s what they said on the Eastern Region, back in the 1980’s. ‘Just some little modifications!’ and they came back from Derby with the ugliest buffers ever!” 

“It was a hatchet job!” Pip agreed. “All their lower valances, gone!” 

“Easy, easy!” Mr. Tedfield yelped, not expecting that sort of response. “I’m sure that we can do a better job than that!”

“Promise?” they said in worried unison.

“Promise.”

-

A few days later, and the twins were relieved to discover that the works were as good as their word. Unlike the Eastern Region “hatchet jobs,” they still sported all their bodywork. Holes had been drilled through the lower valances, and buffers, couplings, and air hoses now poked through. The fibreglass was a little rough around the edges, but everyone agreed that it could also look a great deal worse. (Apparently, custom fibreglass was one of the only things the works staff couldn’t do in-house, and there was a concerning amount of murmuring from the staff about how they’d change that.)

Rolling out into the sun for the first time since they were “slightly modified,” they blinked the light from their eyes to find Mr. Tedfield, the Fat Controller, and another man who they didn’t know waiting for them. 

“Well,” Started Mr. Tedfield. “I’m glad to see that our concerns were unfounded.” 

The twins knew he was being diplomatic in front of the Fat Controller. He’d already said “I told you so!” several times earlier in the day. 

He continued. “So now we should probably tell you what we would like you to do!”

“Because somebody forgot to mention it earlier…” The other man muttered under his breath. 

The Fat Controller looked from one man to the other, and shook his head slightly. “Pip, Emma, as I’m sure you’re already aware, we are not going to be running the Express to London anytime soon. So, with that in mind, you two are going to be assigned to mixed traffic work until passenger numbers allow us to put you back into normal service.”

“Mixed traffic work?” They said as one. 

“Oh yes!” The Fat Controller looked quite pleased with himself. “We have quite a lot of cargo traffic coming in through the ports right now, and you two will help take the strain off everyone else.”

The man they didn’t know coughed slightly. 

“Of course, how foolish of me,” The Fat Controller rolled his eyes. “I also recognize that you two have some… special abilities that the other engines lack, namely your high-speed capabilities. With that in mind, Mr. Hargrave, from the coach and wagon department here at the works, has had an idea.”

“Yes, right.” Mr. Hargrave said with pride. “So, back when we first started coming back to work after the lockdowns, the government gave us a whole pile of Levelling-Up money, to “get us back on our feet.”” He paused, bouncing on his heels. “Thing is, we’d already fixed up everything beforehand, because we didn’t want anyone locked away in the works during the end of days with their bits in pieces, so we didn’t have anything to spend it on, but we had to spend it, otherwise they’d take it back!”

“Government logic at its finest…” Mr. Tedfield said under his breath. 

“Ain’t that the truth.” Mr. Hargrave agreed. “So anyways, we decided to just make everything as perfect as we could make it.”

He stopped for a moment, long enough for the Fat Controller to look at him. “Such as…?”

“Hm? Oh! Yes, the container wagons!” He said all at once. “We took all the container wagons that were sitting around idle - and some other stuff besides - and we took them and fitted high speed bogies and bearings to them.”

Pip blinked slowly. “High speed bogies?”

“That’s right! They ride like coaches now.” He said with childlike joy. “And they won’t weigh much more than them either, so it shouldn’t be much trouble for you two. High speed containers, all the way to the mainland!”

Pip looked at him, then at the Fat Controller. “Sir, why are we doing this?”

The Fat Controller looked much more reasoned. “Quite a few companies are willing to pay a premium for their shipments to arrive as quickly as possible. There’s a lot of congestion at the bigger ports in the south, and Liverpool is operating almost at capacity, so we have an opportunity to get some very lucrative traffic.” He smiled knowingly. “And if we play our cards right, some of the companies, like Amazon, might build a few warehouses just across the channel on the mainland, and then we can serve those in perpetuity.” 

The twins slowly digested this. “But sir, will it matter if we can go that fast?” Pip asked. “Once we cross the bridge, we’ve got to deal with Network Rail, and they don’t know anything.”

The Fat Controller looked as pleased as punch. “But you’re not dealing with Network rail.” He said with a satisfied smile. “Our contract for this ‘express freight’ is to get it as far as Barrow-in-Furness. If Freightliner or Colas Rail happen to be tardy after that…” he made a gesture with his hands. “That’s of no importance to us.”

Pip and Emma blinked slowly. “So, you want us to go as fast as we can?” Pip said with an expression that was rapidly passing “gleeful.”

“I do.” The Fat Controller agreed, before walking away.

---

Across the Island, the trucks and wagons shuddered.

--

A few weeks later

Pip and Emma fit in surprisingly well on goods trains, and could soon be found on everything from trundling pickup goods to the Flying Kipper. The Works really had made every truck as “perfect” as they could make them, and so every train, regardless of what it was or who was pulling it, was rolling on new bearings and freshly-trued wheels. Bear, BoCo, James, and Henry claimed it was some of the easiest work they’d ever had, and even the trucks agreed with them!

Pip and Emma, however, were mostly focused on one thing: speed. They’d been promised the ability to go as fast as they liked, but there was a significant obstacle to it:

“Oh come on! How long can it take to re-lay one set of points!”

The Permanent Way and Signaling departments had also received a great deal of this “use it or lose it” government funding, and were furiously working to replace, re-lay, and re-wire seemingly the entire island. 

Fortunately for the twins, the work was almost at an end, and as the summer began to wane, they soon found that more and more of the line was back up to full capacity. Shortly thereafter, the “Container Express” was a regularly scheduled train on the main line, running twice a day between Tidmouth Harbour and the yard in Barrow. Keen-eyed observers of the timetable would note that it was the exact same pair of slots previously occupied by the Wild Nor’Wester, which had last run in March of 2020. 

The Fat Controller promised anyone who asked him that it was absolutely a temporary measure, and most believed him, save for one group in particular…

“Lads,” A voice murmured in the container yard one morning. “I think this is forever… ‘s our purgatory for whatever it is we’ve done to the engines.”

“Nah, this ain’t purgatory,” whispered another, as a two-toned horn blasted in the distance. 

“Hi everyone!” “Ready for the trip?”

“This is hell. We’re in hell.”

  -

A few days later - Barrow

The lift bridge over the Walney Channel operated very differently than it did pre-COVID. A train would arrive at the Vicarstown side of the bridge, then it would lower. It would stay down while the engines were turned round, or were uncoupled from their train and connected to a new one. Then the train would leave, and the bridge would go back up. 

This happened two to four times a day, now that the lockdowns had lessened, but there was one constant - the same train that left the island would be the one to return to it. 

Then, one evening in the late summer, the bridge rolled down for a train coming from the mainland. 

There was a very familiar two-toned honk-honk as it rolled over the bridge and onto the Island, wheels click-clacking across the bridge joints in great numbers. 

The rear power car vanished with a roar of sound and a whoosh of diesel exhaust, and then the train was gone into the distance. 

The bridge slowly cycled back up. There was a new train on the Island of Sodor. 

-

The next morning 

Pip and Emma woke up much later than usual - the main line was undergoing its final “track geometry inspection”, and freight services had been curtailed for most of the day to allow the inspection to be done as quickly as possible. 

Eventually, they were rolled out of the diesel shed mostly on BoCo’s urging, (“You two are not allowed to get bored in here.”) and made their way to the platforms of the big station. 

“Oh, this is weird!” Pip exclaimed as she backed down onto a set of coaches. She and Emma had been coupled back-to-back for over a month now, and it seemed like nobody was in a hurry to position them “normally” for a short run down to Suddery and back. 

“Not as weird as your- oh my goodness it’s you two.” James started his sentence with a considerable amount of venom, but squeaked halfway through his sentence before stopping altogether. 

“What was that?” They both looked at him funny. 

“Nothing!” He said quickly. “Nothing at all. I, um, I thought that you were somebody else!” 

He vanished as though by magic, and neither Pip, Emma, nor the coaches had any idea of what to say until the guard waved his flag. 

-

Making their way down the line, they encountered several other engines, each of whom gave them some kind of funny look. As they headed down Edward’s branch line, it was all they could talk about.

“Maybe it’s just how strange we look back-to-back?”

“It can’t be, Pip! You saw how Edward looked! I think he was actually upset!”

“Goodness, I hope it wasn’t anything we did.”

“I don’t think so. They all seemed to stop once they saw us.”

“...”

“What?”

“I just had a thought.”

“What?”

“Who looks like us, but can make everyone hate them in no time flat?”

“Oh no!”

-

Later, they arrived back at Wellsworth station with the return service. The train terminated here, instead of returning to the big station, so once the passengers had disembarked, they had to shunt the coaches out of the way. It was somewhat novel for them, and Pip took great joy in being shown how a shunter’s pole worked. Emma, on the other buffer, was busy eavesdropping; Edward was getting ready to bank Bear’s goods train up Gordon’s Hill, and he was fuming about something to the stationmaster. 

“-that damn banana shows its face here again I will show them what for!” he hissed sternly, before puffing away in a huff.

The stationmaster didn’t say anything that Emma could hear, but he seemed to look very intently at the signals outside the station. There was one signal set for an arriving train. 

Emma didn’t like that, it felt very ominous. “Pip, look sharp. I think we’re going to have trouble soon.”

Pip didn’t have time to respond, because at that instant, the two-tone horn of an HST rang out in the near distance. The rails hummed with the noise of an approaching train, and a 5-coach HST set pulled into the station. 

The train was safety-yellow, and bristled with cameras, sensors, lasers, and measurement equipment of all kinds. Large “NETWORK RAIL” logos were plastered on every coach and both power cars, right next to the words “NEW MEASUREMENT TRAIN.”

 It was glossy. It was shiny. It was freshly washed. 

“Oh, must we dawdle around this dump? I know what sort of conditions this lot keeps!”

It was rude. 

“Will you stop already? I would like to not be thrown off this island, thanks.” 

Well, half of it was. 

Pip closed her eyes to steady herself. Emma ground her teeth audibly. Of course it was them. 

Quickly, quietly, they tried to reverse out of sight, but the camera-studded train saw all, and criticised everything. 

“Oh I say!” The lead power car laughed mockingly. “I thought those rumours were wrong but look at that! You two really have been demoted to common shunters!”

“Hi Pip. Hi Emma.” The rear power car said, utterly defeated. 

“Hi John,” They chorused, equally displeased. “Hi, Obs-”

“Do not use that name!” The lead power car snapped brusquely. On his side there was a big brass nameplate that read “The Railway Observer.” “Use my real name.”

“Not this again…” The rear power car moaned. He had “John Armitt” bolted to his side. “I know that you think it sounds better but I promise you it isn’t-”

“I’m sorry,” The lead power car snapped. “But are you undermining me in front of outsiders?”

“They’re our sisters, you numpty.”

“And they shall refer to me by the name of my choice!” 

“It’s a stupid name!” 

“It’s a regal name!” 

Pip and Emma observed the bickering train with muted resignation. “Why couldn’t he have been at Ladbroke Grove?” Pip said to nobody in particular. “Would’ve done the world a favour.”

Emma just wanted to get this over with. The coaches had been safely shunted away, so it was just a matter of getting out of the yard - then they could go down to Tidmouth and get their next train. “And what name would you like us to call you?” She said eventually. 

The lead power car puffed himself up like a self-important cockatoo. “I,” He proclaimed regally. “Am Murgatroyd. It is a noble name, with a rich history, and-” 

Pip almost swallowed her own tongue from the sudden outburst of laughter, while Emma couldn’t even bring herself to look at him. “Oh my god, that is the worst name I have ever heard of,” She said, barely audible over Pip’s gale-force guffaws. “Why would you do that to yourself? Why would you do that to us?” 

Murgatroyd turned red with indignation (which, thanks to his yellow paint, was actually a shade of orange) and started shouting. “How dare you, you- you- you low-class harlot! This is a regal name, chosen to signify-”

“How much of a pretentious twat you are?” John scoffed from the other end of the NMT. “Usually people can tell when you talk.”

The retort that followed was unprintable, and a vicious three-way argument soon struck up, lasting until Pip and Emma left Wellsworth for the harbour at Tidmouth. 

The New Measurement Train left a few minutes after that, an argument trailing in its wake. The yard was silent after that.

BoCo, who had been trying to nap in the shed, looked around the yard. “I don’t think anyone will believe me…” he said to himself. 

-----

At the harbour’s intermodal yard, Pip and Emma found their train already waiting for them… although it was slightly different from usual.

Fifteen container trucks sat mostly empty, with just a few loaded ones up at the front. Ahead of those were two low-loaders, one empty, the other… not. 

“Finally!” Thomas the Tank Engine groused from atop the front low-loader. “It’s been ages!” 

“It’s been two hours.” The low-loader rolled his eyes. “We left at 11:00. It’s barely past one.”

“Well, who asked you?!” 

Pip and Emma were surprised, to say the least. “What’s he doing here?” They asked the yard supervisor. “Can we take him on this train?”

“As a matter of fact,” He consulted his clipboard. “You can. I spoke to the works, and they’ve “improved” some of the flatcars with the high speed bogies they had left over. Should be fine.”

“Should be?” 

“That’s what they said.” He shrugged, flipping through the clipboard to a printout of an email. “They put it in writing.” 

Pip had to squint to see the small text. “I don’t like that they put “It should be fine!” on an official email…”

Behind her, Emma rolled her eyes, in the process noticing something above them. “Wait, what’s that?” 

The supervisor looked up. “Oh, that’s a jet engine for an airplane. Rolls Royce rebuilds them down in Derby.”

“Why is it here? This isn’t the airport.”

“Airport’s closed for a few days because they lost their electric transformer - surprised you didn’t ‘ear about it. Rolls didn’t wanna wait, and we’re quicker than a lorry it seems.” The man smiled at the last part. Everyone in the freight division was very pleased that this “hare-brained, half-baked, absolutely ridiculous” concept (as some “industry observers” had remarked) was proving successful.  

Emma watched as the jet engine was craned onto a flatcar behind Thomas. “Oh great!” He scoffed as it was chained down to the car. “Not only am I getting shuttled around this Island like a piece of lost mail, but now it’s air mail at that?”

“Oh shush!” Pip said, somewhat bemused by the whole situation. “We’ll get you to Barrow double quick!”

“Barrow?! I’m going to the works!” Thomas was irate. 

“If you ever listened,” The low-loader started. “You’d know that they don’t stop there, so we’re going to Barrow, and then back to Crovan’s on the pick-up goods.”

“Oh! Wonderful! I am a lost parcel! This is all Toby’s fault, the square-”

“Thomas,” Emma cut him off kindly. “It’ll be fine. Think about it this way - you can say that you went there on the Express! Won’t that be fun?”

“I’ve been on the express before…” Thomas said darkly.

“See? Then you know how fun it is!” 

Thomas looked like he wanted to say something else, but before he could, the shunters allowed Pip and Emma to back down onto the train, and connected the coupling chains and air hoses. 

Emma winked at him reassuringly, something which he felt was only unintentionally patronizing.

And then the train set off for the mainland. 

-

Leaving the port was a slow affair - the container yard was off to one side, and they had to dodge Marina and Salty as they shunted cars into the bulk terminals by the yard throat. There were a lot of low-speed switches to navigate as well, and the train rocked from side to side as they crossed over. Thomas thought about saying he was getting seasick, but chose not to tempt fate after the seventh such switch made him actually feel a little nauseous. 

After reaching the end of the harbour tracks, they came to a complete stop, and waited for several trains to leave the big station. 

First came Gordon, who stormed out of the station canopy with the mid-day semi-fast behind him. His expression was thunderous, as were his clouds of smoke and steam. He passed by with a roar and a clatter and vanished into the tunnel towards Knapford. 

Edward was a few minutes behind, with a train of ballast from the Little Western. The expression on his face was neutral, almost intentionally so - a clear sign to anyone that knew him that he was blisteringly furious. 

“Oh no…” Emma sighed. 

“What?” Thomas asked, watching Edward’s brake van disappear into the tunnel. 

“Not what, who.” She said, resigned. “And you’ll find out soon enough.”

Up front, Pip grit her teeth and waited. 

She didn’t have to wait long - another minute, and an unusual signal dropped into place: an up-bound train cleared for the down slow line. A very familiar two-note honk-honk sounded from inside the station, and then Murgatroyd appeared, a self-satisfied sneer on his face. 

He roared out of the station, New Measurement Train shining brightly behind him, John on the tail end calling apologies to someone. It would have been a rather splendid sight, had there not been a massive cloud of sooty clag hovering over the station entrance, and trailing in his wake. 

Pip smirked with a hint of schadenfreude - John wasn’t trailing any sooty exhaust smoke, and five empty coaches were not that heavy, so somebody was ignoring his fitters it seemed…

She would have been content to sit there smugly, her well-tuned engine firing cleanly on all cylinders saying more than she ever could with words, but naturally Murgatroyd had to make things worse. 

“Oh good god!” He bellowed in mean-spirited mirth, his mouth twisting into a cheshire-cat smile. “Look at that! They really are Valenta freighters now! And they’re slumming it with a tea kettle! I thought that I had seen it all!” 

He vanished out of sight before he could say anything else, the coaches streaming by in a yellow blur. 

Pip could just see her reflection in the passing windows - they moved so fast it looked like a solid mirror - and it was not a pretty sight. 

Emma, who’d heard everything, reckoned that if he’d gone on for one more sentence, her sister would be spitting fire and roaring loud enough to be heard in Cornwall. 

Thomas, who had said worse to Toby and Daisy just this morning, suddenly felt a great sense of unease…

-

A few tense minutes later, and the signal finally raised, giving the train access to the main line. Pip set off with a roar, Emma reluctantly following her lead through the multiple unit connection. Thomas choked and spluttered from the wave of hot exhaust gases going right into his face, and barely noticed as the train rocked and rolled onto the Up Fast line. 

Blinking and tearing up, his vision finally cleared just in time to see Pip’s cab roof disappear into the darkness of the tunnel to Knapford. It was much closer than it usually was, and with the train rapidly increasing in speed, Thomas yelped as it cleared his funnel by mere inches. “YIKES!”

Emma laughed, eyes shining in the darkness, and Thomas knew that the sooner he got off this train, the better!

-

After that, for a little while, the trip continued smoothly. Knapford, Crosby, and Wellsworth stations all slid past without issue. Traffic was extremely light, and they didn’t pass any down-bound trains in the entire period. In fact, if it weren’t for the occasional blot of Gordon’s smoke on the horizon, it would have seemed that they had the entire main line to themselves. 

-

It was just past Maron station when the trouble began. 

As they crested Gordon’s hill, the first signal past the summit had fallen to “approach” almost as they passed it, and some quick shouting at “control” on the radio had revealed that the last of the permanent way crews were taking longer than usual to clear the main line near Kellsthorpe Road station. 

This meant that Pip and Emma were practically at a crawl as they reached Maron, and the train eased to a stop at the signal bridge just past the platforms. 

Pip, still hot under the buffers from her encounter with Murgatroyd, was not exactly thrilled at the idea of “dawdling” in stations, and audibly fussed as they came to a halt.

Her poor temper didn’t help her train handling skills any, and the train lurched inelegantly to a halt, causing the slack in the couplings to run in, and the entire train banged against her and Emma. 

There was much shouting and complaining from the trucks and Thomas at this, and Pip growled menacingly.  

“Oh, well.” Emma said quickly, trying to put a positive spin on things. “At least it’s a nice day out-”

CLONK

Before she could even say anything, the signals rose to the “approach slow, expect stop” aspect. This meant that they were getting moved forward exactly one signal block, to the Cronk home signals near the Hawin Ab Viaduct. 

“Oh come on!” Emma cried in frustration. 

It was abundantly clear what was happening now: they were going to be yo-yo-ed up and down the main line. Yo-yo-ing was what happened when a fast train was stuck behind a slow one, and had to constantly stop at each signal and wait for it to clear. It was hard on an engine’s brakes, worse on their buffers and couplings, and worst of all, was annoying as sin. This was exactly the sort of constant, low-grade irritation that she (and Pip) did not need right now.

Pip’s driver was entirely unaware of this, though, and so he increased the throttle and watched with some bemusement as Pip let her engine furiously rev all the way to the top of the tachometer right from the jump. 

She and Emma lurched forwards, and the entire train crashed into motion, each car yanking the one behind it as they all set off. 

Thomas rocked back and forth against his tie-down chains. “Careful!” he shouted. 

“Shut up!” Pip and Emma scowled. 

Thomas frowned, ready to give them a piece of his mind. 

“It’s no use,” tThe low-loader sighed. “They’re in a strop right now - best you can do is make them forget that you’re here, til they calm down.”

“When will that happen?” 

“That, lad, is something that the smartest trucks in all the land have been searching for an answer to for many years.”

-

To add insult to perceived injury, Pip’s driver didn’t bother accelerating to any real speed, since they were only going one signal down the line. Pip and Emma stewed in their own irritation at twenty-five miles an hour as they rolled up the line towards the next signal. There was very little that could be done to make them more upset, but of course when there’s a will, (and a Murgatroyd) there’s a way.

-

“Oh, no…” John murmured to himself. 

The New Measurement Train had been caught at a signal for almost thirty minutes, as the Island’s P-Way team cleared out in front of them. The positioning of this particular signal was not ideal, as it left the tail of the train caught on the exposed tracks of a windy viaduct. Furthermore, the signal, like all signals on Sodor, was a relatively vintage semaphore design that still used colored filters over a white light. He knew this from experience, having been all over this island for the last day, however he was hearing all of it now because his royal Murgitude had been griping and whinging about it literally since the moment they stopped. 

And now, look at who was coming up to the signals on the fast line… 

“Hi Pip, Hi Emma,.” he said weakly. 

He almost wanted to tell them to stop further back, and be near him - away from the irritating mass at the front of the train - but looking at Pip’s enraged visage gave him pause. He stilled his tongue, and let them roll up to the signal mast next to Murg.

Judging from the way that the train screeched and bashed to a halt, Emma wasn’t happy either. A smart engine (or one with a functioning self-preservation instinct) would have kept quiet at that stage, however Murgatroyd was neither self-preserving nor intelligent, and John could hear his mocking tone from five coaches back. 

Pip said nothing, and at first neither did Emma, but as Moron-a-troyd went on and on and on, John could feel a shift in the container wagons next to him. It was almost like they were cringing, trying to keep themselves as far away from whatever was about to happen next. 

Finally, he could take the suspense no more. “Is it bad?” he asked the nearest truck. 

“SHUT UP. I AM TIRED OF HEARING YOU SPEAK,” Emma bellowed, loud enough to be heard clearly at the other end of the train. 

“It’s awful bad,” the truck whispered. “You can tell he’s never dealt with real engines before. One of us acts like that and we’d be the next Scruffey within a month!”

John didn’t know who “Scruffey” was, but he understood the sentiment regardless. 

Silence reigned after that… for all of ten seconds, before Murgatroyd said something about “decorum” that set off a screaming row between all three of them. 

It was bad enough that the Network Rail crew inside the coaches started making a fuss on the radio, and within a minute, the container train roared away, leaving the New Measurement Train in windy silence yet again. 

After a few short seconds, John felt a “poke” over the multiple unit connection. Clearly Murgatroyd wanted to say something. 

“Well,” he said, voice warbling from some damage in the connection that John hadn’t ever told anyone about. “I think they said their piece didn’t they? I tell you what John-old-boy, but this island produces some of the worst examples of engine-kind that I have ever seen. I think that one was breathing fire!”

-

At Cronk station, Pip and Emma were idling so loud and so roughly that the stationmaster radioed the crew to ask if something was wrong. 

“That damned flying banana got them in a state, that’s what’s wrong,” The driver snapped over the radio. That awful measurement train had been nothing but problems since it showed up on the island, and he was willing to do anything to see them gone. Heck, if it wasn’t likely to make his engines even angrier, he’d give that train his path to the mainland, just so it’d be gone faster. 

What they really needed was a good fast run, to get them back into their usual state, but with the P-Way team taking their sweet bloody time of it, it didn’t seem likely. 

“If they keep going like this, they’re going to burst a manifold somewhere,” the guard poked his head into the cab. “We’ve got to calm them down.”

“I would love to see you try!” the driver retorted. “They’re not gonna stop until they’re good and ready.”

“I can hear you, you know!” Pip huffed. 

“And? Are you going to calm down?” 

A slow growl that shook the entire cab was his only answer. 

“Go put the radio on,” he said to the wide-eyed guard. “They need something to keep their minds occupied.”

“Radio? Like, to control?”

“No, you nit! Like the radio radio! With music! There’s a circuit breaker on the electrical panel. Bottom row.”

Confused, the guard retreated from the cab and made his way to Pip’s electrical cabinet. Opening up the “low voltage” door, he traced his finger down the rows of breakers until he found what should have been immediately obvious: a handwritten label on some sellotape next to the last of the breakers. It said “TUNES” in shaky handwriting, and was one of the only ones not turned on. Hesitantly, he reached out and switched it on. 

“-and that was “No Diggity,” by Blackstreet, here on ManxPirate, the eternally annoying voice of the Sudrian Sea. Catch our sound wherever you are, on 107.9 FM, 927 AM, 13.68 Shortwave, DAB, DAB+, and online at ManxPirate.co.im. 

“Oh come on!” Pip groused. “Now they’re gonna do the adverts! This isn’t any better than listening to the moron!”

“And now that brings us up to about five minutes til’ the top of the hour, so we’re gonna run some adverts so we can keep the lights on. We’ll see ya on the flipside with DJ Geordie Poppers, who’s gonna run a very special block of music for us, right here on ManxPirate.”

“How often do they listen to this?” the guard asked with some astonishment. 

“Too much, if I had any say in it…” the driver mumbled.

“Are you tired of your washing up smelling like mildew? Are you sick of having to pull down the drying lines at the first sign of rain? Then the new automatic clothes dryers at B&Q are just for you…”

The radio continued on with an inane advertisement about tumble dryers, and the driver put his head in his hands. “We’ve just got to make it to a song… I hope.”

Pip and Emma continued to stew in their own irritation. 

-----

Far away, at Kellsthorpe Road station, the last of the P-Way Gang hauled their equipment off of the line, sharing a celebratory high-five as they did so. There was due cause for celebration: once the NMT traveled over this section of line, their yearslong work of relaying the entire main line would be finally over. In the station’s car park, a champagne bottle was popped, and the foreman revealed that he’d brought real crystal stemware for the occasion, instead of plastic.    

Presently, a radio handset buzzed. “Is that the lot of you off, then?” 

It was Control, sounding less than pleased with the delay… 

----

At Cronk, the signals for the down slow line rose into the “all clear” position, while the up fast signals remained red. 

Pip ground her teeth noisily. 

“HI, I’M BARRY SCOTT, AND I’M HERE TO TALK ABOUT THE ALL NEW CILLIT BANG UNIVERSAL DEGREASER! NOW WITH NEW FORMULATION! SAY GOODBYE TO LIMESCALE AND RUST STAINS…” 

The radio continued to play adverts.

Thomas was growing increasingly fearful of the look on Emma’s face. 

--

A few minutes later, as an insufferably bad advertisement about comparing your car insurance provider finally faded out, a two tone honk-honk sounded behind them, and the New Measurement Train roared past in a cloud of exhaust and dust. Pip and Emma didn’t say anything, or even look in the general direction, but the raucous laughter that trailed in its wake said enough. 

Mercifully, the radio had begun playing something else. “All right then, got those ads out of the way. So what’s up listeners? It’s DJ Geordie Poppers in the hooo-use, coming to you LIVE from our studios on the ever so beautiful radio ship Tharos out here in the Sudrian Sea. We’ve got a very special bit of music for you coming up now in the upcoming hour - it’s a rare daylight sighting of our After-Dark Eurobeat Power Hour! I’m gonna be spinning some CDs and MP3s with the most pulse-pounding beats this side of Mount Akina - so if you’re driving right now, sorry about this.”

As John got smaller and smaller in the distance, the music began to fade in, very gradually. 

“And a bit of housekeeping here - we’ve heard from the artist and they’ve had a bit of a name change. Out goes Ken, and in comes Kendra. This is the extended version of “The Top,” by  Ken (short for Kendra) Blast.”

Slowly, a piano track began to fill in. 

Pip raised an eyebrow, irritation momentarily sidetracked. “Is this really the Eurobeat block, Emma?”

“I think it is,” she said, starting to go along with the intro.  

Thomas, who couldn’t hear Pip or the radio, had no idea what she was talking about. He didn’t like the look on her face. 

The trucks didn’t either. 

“Lads,” the lead container wagon said with gravitas. “We may not make it through today unchanged. It has been an honor serving with you.”

“What?” The low loader that carried the jet engine coughed as the container wagons murmured about honor. He was relatively new, and this was not how he expected his day to be going.

“Laddie,” Thomas’ low loader said gravely, understanding at once what was about to happen. “You’re about to experience something that you’ve never been through before. I’d recommend preparing yourself.”

“What?!” Thomas yelped. 

---

Back in Tidmouth, the people in “Control” were staring at the “big board.” For weeks now, the section of line near Kellsthorpe road had been a mess of green, yellow, and red lights, as the P-Way gang slowly finished the banked curve on the station’s east end. Trains, represented by little markers on the computer screen, waited for a free path, oftentimes with large delays, which showed up in flashing red and white boxes. 

Now, though, their frustration was finally at an end. The last of the yellow was disappearing, section by section, as the P-Way gang reported that they were clear. Three of the four lines were bright red - clear but with no train signaled through - while the down slow line was a green and yellow stripe. It was getting shorter and shorter, as the little marker labeled 1Q01 moved steadily eastward. That was the New Measurement Train, finishing its final pass of the system.  

Behind it, with the box flashing red and white from the delay, was 1B07 - the “Container Express,” already twenty minutes late. More trains were lined up behind it and the NMT, and others were queuing in a line that started at Kellsthorpe Road and went all the way to the mainland. 

The yellow segments were almost entirely gone, with just one signal block outside of Kellsthorpe Road left. 

There was a five minute safety delay coded into the signal control computers, specifically for when crews were working on the line. 

It had been four minutes and fifty six seconds since they’d reported that they were clear. 

Four minutes and fifty seven seconds.

Four minutes and fifty eight.

Four minutes and fifty nine. 

---

The signal in front of Pip raised with a clonk. 

There was still a slight haze to the air from Murgatroyd’s exhaust. In the distance, the plume of sooty white smoke he was making stood out against the clear blue sky like a signal fire. 

“Emma?” Anyone with sense would recognize the danger in her tone.

“Yeah?” Unfortunately for everyone else on the train, they couldn’t do anything about it.

“I think we should catch him.”

“I think you’re right.”

--

In the cab, the driver looked nervously at the rev counter, which had started to climb rapidly. 

“Here goes nuthin’,” he said quietly to himself, before advancing the throttle.

--

The music, which had been slowly building over the last twenty seconds or so, abruptly kicked into a high gear, with a frenetic electronic beat that belted along at 160 beats per minute. 

White exhaust belched from the twins’ exhaust, before quickly turning black under the load. Their engines ramped up to an ear-piercing howl, obliterating any sense of quiet at Cronk station.

Thomas once again got a face full of noxious choking clag, and his eyes watered while his hearing was momentarily deafened by the noise of it all. 

The train began to pick up speed, and the container wagons groaned in fatalistic anticipation. “It’s all downhill from here!” one of them shouted. 

“What?” Thomas hacked from inside the cloud. He couldn’t see anything, and his hearing was ringing like a church bell. 

In front, Pip could feel the unrelenting wave of horsepower and diesel surging through her system. She laughed joyously, with Emma soon joining in. 

To everyone else, it seemed somewhat maniacal. 

🎶 Final lap I'm on top of the world

And I will never rest for second again!

One more time I have beaten them out

The scent of gasoline announces the end! 🎶

--

The train vanished from sight, on its way towards Killdane. The stationmaster poked his head out of the station door. 

“There goes trouble…”

--

The New Measurement Train rolled through Killdane with fleetfooted ease. The rails were clear and the light train was aided by the downhill gradient. From his position on the rear, John felt like the entire consist was weightless, with barely any effort required to keep the train at speed. 

“You think we should go any faster?” he called up the multiple unit connection to Murg. They usually ran at well over 120, but today they’d barely crested 90. 

There was a cough over the connection. “Oh, not today. We’re still the fastest train on this backwards island!” 

Ah yes. A sudden excuse. Surely that was completely unrelated to the plume of smoke trailing in their wake. 

“So, how’s cylinder four feeling today?”

“Shut up.”

John smiled pettily to himself. 

In the distance, Killdane got smaller and smaller. A small dot of yellow could just be seen…

---

🎶 They all said I'd best give it up

What a fool to believe their lies!

Now they've fallen and I'm at the top

Are you ready now to die-ie-ie?! 🎶

---

At Killdane, the sounds of the NMT had scarcely faded before the sound of howling diesel engines filled the air. Heads turned to the east just in time to see Pip and Emma hammering around the curve into the station at full throttle. 

The curve was banked, but not nearly as steeply as the ones to the west, and there was a piercing screeeeeech of steel on steel as the train whipped past. 

“Slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown!” There was also a piercing screech coming from the train’s cargo, as Thomas the Tank Engine felt himself rock back and forth atop the low loader. It really did feel like he was going to fall off! 

Pip had a very determined look on her face, eyes focused well into the distance, but those who saw Emma in the brief moment she was in view noted an almost demented smile on her face. She was laughing. 

All this happened in just a moment, and then the train was gone, roaring off into the distance at just below the line speed limit. The wind from the train’s passage rattled a lineside sign. It was a white circle with several thin diagonal slashes through it. 

It was an “end of speed limit” sign.

--

🎶 I came up from the bottom

And into the top

For the first time I feel alive

I can fly like an eagle

And strike like a hawk

Do you think you can survive... the top?🎶

--

John noticed that the small yellow dot in the distance was getting bigger. Squinting, he couldn’t quite see what it was. 

Whatever it was, it was slowly gaining on them.

Hang on…He thought. 

The cameras that were blanketing his sides were supposed to be recording the lineside for defects, but nobody ever cared about the “going away” view. Very quietly, he “looked” through the lens mounted just above his eyes. It had a nice zoom, and could see much further than he could. 

What he saw made him blink and look again. Then a third time. Then a fourth. After looking for a fifth and final time. He finally wrapped his mind around what exactly he was seeing. 

“Hey Murg?” he said innocently. 

“Yes? What is it?” Murg sounded far more irritated than he should be. 

“Think you can get us into the triple digits? Some of the boffins are worried about their readings not being calibrated right.”

“Oh damn them all.” Murg cut the connection with a pained cough. John had a distinct feeling that the Infallible and Most Invulnerable King Murgatroyd was hiding exactly how bad cylinder four really was from everyone, lest he be seen as “weak” or “mortal” by his inferiors. 

Well, he thought to himself with a hint of smugness as the train slowly began to increase speed. If he wants to play the perfect king, he’ll have to deal with the locals.  

Behind them, Pip and Emma continued to get closer and closer…

---

James and his coaches had been waiting on the dratted P-Way gangers for over half an hour at Kellsthorpe Road, and set off with a will when the signal changed. 

Of course, the signaling was all out of sorts, and he was running “wrong main” on the Up Slow line, but he didn’t much care. There wasn’t anyone in front of him, and was making “good” time on his way to Killdane. “Maybe we’ll still make it to Tidmouth before tomorrow!” he joked to his driver, who had long since given up on making light of the situation. 

They leaned into the curve heading towards Killdane, and that awful banana of a measurement train streaked by in the other direction. James whistled derisively at it out of reflex more than anything else, and was quietly grateful that the unpleasant train had nothing to say in return. 

In the distance, a giddy-sounding honk-honk drew his attention back to the line ahead, and he had just enough time to make out something streaking on the next line over before something-

Honk-Honk! Honk-Honk!

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

-ripped past them with a honk, a roar, and a scream.

“What was that?!” He yelped as the wind buffeted him. 

“I think that was Pip and Emma!” his driver said, looking backward. “With a container train!”

“What?!”

---

🎶 One more turn and I'll settle the score

A rubber fire screams into the night

Crash and burn is what you're gonna do

I am the master of the asphalt fight 🎶

---

John watched as Pip and Emma got closer and closer. In a macabre way, he felt giddy about it. At their current speed, they were going to eat Murgatroyd for lunch and still have room for tea afterwards. 

He had been paying such close attention to the rapidly-closing distance between the two trains that he completely missed the start of the banked curve until he was leaning into it. The rails bent underneath him and the ties whipped past at an odd angle as the whole world tilted a few degrees. They weren’t going slow, by any means, but the sensitive equipment in the coaches (and his years of experience) told him that they could have been going much faster. 

“Oh Murg… you might want to speed up…” he sing-songed. “They’re gaining on us…”

“Who’s gaining on us? What?!” Murgatroyd was oblivious, as was his wont. 

John wanted to say something else, but his voice failed him as he watched the container train, with low-loaders on the front, rocket through the curve at speeds that he didn’t even want to contemplate. 

A train passed on one of the other lines, and he watched the smoke from its stack get whipped and roiled by air currents of the two trains passing each other. 

Seconds later, Pip and Emma passed the train, streaking through the remaining smoke, and the force of their passage tore the cloud to ribbons. 

---

🎶They all said I'd best give it up

What a fool, to believe their lie-ie-ies!

Now they've fallen, I'm at the top

Are you ready now to die-ie-ie?🎶

---

Pip was high on speed, and she was loving every second of it. 

Emma was right behind her, literally and metaphorically; the sensation of pure motion and velocity was coursing through their systems like a drug. 

In front of them, so close one could almost reach out and touch it, was the New Measurement Train. John was watching with restrained giddiness as they started to draw abreast of him. He said something, but the wind whipping by erased all sound. There was just speed, and that was more than enough. 

Slowly, they pulled even with the coaches, and with each window they passed, another Network Rail employee could be seen looking up in astonishment. 

In Pip’s cab, the driver was holding onto the controls with a white knuckle grip. Officially, he was the driver, he was in control of the train. Realistically, he was nothing more than a rider on a bucking bronco. He surveyed the line ahead, and gulped. 

Behind Pip and Emma, Thomas’s eyes were right in the most turbulent part of the wake that followed the diesels. Air, superheated and filled with grit and soot from twin exhausts, poured into his eyes and swirled around his face. He couldn’t hear, he could barely see. 

Behind him, the wind whipped through the turbine blades of the jet engine on the next low-loader. It had been secured for transport, so the blades didn’t move, but the wind rushing through it created a high-pitched howling noise that simply added to the cacophony. 

Lost in the chaos of the wind and the noise and the exhaust, the container wagons and the low-loaders were holding onto each other for dear life. 

“I’m not designed for thiiiiis!” one of them shrieked. 

“None of us are!” the wagon ahead of him bellowed. “Just keep holding on a little longer!” 

--

At the head of the NMT, Murgatroyd was trying very hard to ignore the slight off-beat throbbing coming from cylinder four. Something was amiss with it - what it was, he didn’t know for certain. Driver didn’t know either - blasted man hadn’t turned a wrench a day in his life; wouldn’t know the difference between an allen key and the keys to a house! 

Of course there weren’t any fitters on board - “economic savings” kept them at home base - so he just had to deal with it. 

Just so long as the underlings didn’t notice, everything would be fine-

“Oh Murgatroyd…”

“Yes, John?”

“You might want to look around...”

He looked off towards the Up lines, and was rendered momentarily speechless by the sight of Pip smiling wickedly at him. 

“T-that’s not possible,” he said once he found his tongue. “That isn’t possible!” 

---

🎶 I came up from the bottom

And into the top

For the first time I feel alive!

I can fly like an eagle

And strike like a hawk

Do you think you can survive...

I came up from the bottom

And into the top

For the first time I feel alive!

I can fly like an eagle

And strike like a hawk

Do you think you can survive... the top?🎶

----

Moments earlier

“So how late do you think we’re going to be?” Percy asked as the train rumbled through Kellsthorpe Road station. 

“Oh,” Henry pondered. “We’re only allowed to do 45, and we’ve got to drop off the aluminium at Killdane, so probably two or three hours if we lose our path at all. Which we will.”

“Thomas is going to be absolutely livid when I get back.” Percy said from atop his low loader. “He was supposed to go in for his new cylinder block today, so if I’m not back, they’re going to have him stay in steam all day.”

“Oh, he won’t be thrilled about that.” Henry chortled. “I swear, he’s the only engine who likes going to the works.” 

“They treat him the same way James treats himself. Of course he likes going there!”

“Hah! I hadn't considered that-oh dear…” Henry trailed off mid-sentence. 

“What?”

“It appears that we’re about to go down the middle between Pip and Emma, and their favorite siblings.”

“What? The banana? Oh great.”

“Yes, they- oh goodness they’re quick-”

Anything else Henry said was lost to the deafening thunderclap made as the New Measurement Train and the Container Express roared past on the opposing lines. The wind felt like it was going to knock him clean off the rails, and Percy yelped in surprise as debris and exhaust fumes swirled around him like a hurricane. His boiler, a stout construction that could hold hundreds of pounds of pressure, felt like it was flexing and bowing from the vibrations in the air. He watched in open-mouthed shock as Henry’s cab windows were sucked out of their frames from the differential pressure, and were hurled through the air followed by every loose object in the cab, from hats and coats, to papers and even a coal shovel!

Behind and in front of Percy, open wagons of stone, and the coal from Henry’s tender sent huge plumes of dust and debris into the air, swirling and mixing into a funnel cloud that wrapped around the rear of the train. It danced in the tornadic airflow for a few seconds, before dissipating as the trains parted once more. 

The silence afterwards was deafening. 

“DID I LOSE A WINDOW?” Henry asked, almost unable to hear himself speak, as his driver applied the brakes and stopped the train. 

Percy tried to make the ringing in his smokebox cease. Closing his eyes, he suddenly remembered seeing something in the fraction of a second before the world went topsy-turvy. “Wait a tic. Was that Thomas?”

“WHAT?”

---

🎶 What were you thinking, telling me to change my game?

This style wasn't going anywhere; it was kaput!

You want to see what I've done with this place; this whole thing?

You want to see that I changed the game?

No, I AM the game!

Before I knew where this was going, I would've listened to you

Right now, I distance myself from what you have to say!

I made this something way bigger than you're ever gonna be

I made it this far; and I'm taking it to the top 🎶

----

Pip and Emma laughed gaily as they overtook the NMT, and powered on towards Kellsthorpe Road like they weren’t towing several hundred tonnes of freight train behind them. 

Murgatroyd gaped in shock as he was passed by the steam engine they were carrying as cargo. 

The shock quickly turned into outrage, and he felt the red-hot sting of being one-upped surge through his system. His engine began to rev higher, urging the train to move faster damn it. 

“Whoa there,” his driver exclaimed, laying a firm hand on the controls. “We want to make it to the mainland, right?”

“I don’t care!” Murgatroyd ground his teeth, watching as the container wagons slipped past him. “They can’t win!” 

But no matter how he tried, his driver wouldn’t let him speed up. 

He howled and roared impotently as Pip and Emma got further and further ahead. 

---

On the platforms of Kellsthorpe Road station, several surveyors were getting measurements of the newly-relaid line. 

Looking down the magnified optics of a theodolite, the true character of the railway could be seen. What appeared to be a straight and flat section of line was actually a ribbon of steel that undulated and flowed over the terrain. While certain sections had just been flattened and graded, it was impossible to fully eliminate the contours of the earth without starting from scratch, and so the line rolled with the small hills and invisible valleys instead of cutting right through them.

“Hey, look at that.” One of the other surveyors said from behind an optical level. “You can see the NMT from here.”

“Can you?” asked his coworker, who quickly pointed his theodolite down the line. “I don’t see it.”

“It’s just gone behind the dip. Should be back in a moment.”

He fixed his eyes on the dip in the terrain. It was actually visible to the naked eye, but its height differential - deemed to be “within acceptable limits” - and its presence directly under a road bridge - meant that it had survived the recent track relaying unscathed.  

The surveyors waited for the train to reappear, the optics of their measurement devices making things appear much larger than they really were. 

With that in mind, it was something of a surprise to see an HST appear two tracks over from where the NMT had been. They both looked to that line just in time for the train to crest the hill.

There was a brief moment, no longer than a breath, where both men could see daylight shine underneath the train as all the wheels left the ground.

----

Pip and Emma hooted and hollered with glee as they roared through the approach to Kellsthorpe Road station. High speed crossovers and the new banked curve meant they didn’t have to check their speed in the slightest as they charged onwards. 

The station came and went in a flash, and they leaned into the new corner at unprecedented speeds. Behind them, Thomas wailed loud enough to be heard over their motors, but they paid him little mind; they didn’t realize - or understand - exactly what he was experiencing. 

Behind them, now far into the distance, the New Measurement Train was just rolling into the station. 

They had won. 

---

🎶 I came up from the bottom

And into the top

For the first time I feel alive!

I can fly like an eagle

And strike like a hawk

Do you think you can survive...

I came up from the bottom

And into the top

For the first time I feel alive!

I can fly like an eagle

And strike like a hawk

Do you think you can survive... the top? 🎶

----

Further up the line, Bertie the bus was pulling up to a level crossing, just as the gates went down. 

“That was a great song on the radio, wasn’t it?” he said to his driver, who was thoroughly regretting turning on ManxPirate, thanks very much. “I feel like I should be racing something! Ooh! I know! The next train that comes by, we’ll try and chase it, huh? Just like the old times with Thomas!”

Honk-Honk

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

Whooooooooooooooooooooosh

The train passed in just a few seconds. 

“Nevermind.”

-----

The song wound down to a stop, but Pip and Emma continued charging on. 

The guard went so far as to pull the fuse on the radio, hoping that it would calm them down, but they were too far gone to consider dropping their speed until they reached Crovan’s Gate station. There, the speed limit dropped to 90; normally a mild inconvenience, but today it felt like they’d dropped an anchor behind them. 

Still, they continued merrily along through the station as fast as was allowed (much to Thomas’s dismay) and continued east along the line. 

As they cleared the station and began to speed up again, they noticed a cloud of smoke on the horizon. 

There was still one more train they could catch…

-----

Compared to everyone else in this story, Gordon was having a blissfully uneventful day. He’d managed to put that vulgar measurement train almost totally out of his mind, and was making excellent time to the mainland when one considered the workmen-caused delay at Kellsthorpe Road. 

There was a farm lane that crossed the tracks near Henry’s tunnel, and he whistled for it. 

Honk-Honk

He was most surprised to hear a horn respond to him, and was flabbergasted to see Pip, then Emma, and then Thomas pass him like he was standing still!

“HiGordonByeGordon!” “HiGordonByeGordon!” “GORDON HELP ME!”

The train raced into the tunnel and vanished from sight. 

Gordon could not believe what he had seen!

----

Eventually, the speed limits dropped, and the four track main line merged into two just after Vicarstown. Rolling over the lift bridge at a sedate twenty miles an hour Pip and Emma finally began to come down off their “runner’s really high.”

“That was great!” Pip gushed. “Just the sort of run we needed to clear everything out, am I right?”

“Uh, Pip?” Emma began to notice the state of Thomas. “I think we miiiiight have overdone this a little.”

Thomas could only whimper in agreement! 

----

By the time the New Measurement Train rolled into Barrow station some thirty minutes later, Pip, Emma, and Gordon were all trying to console Thomas, to limited success. 

“...Ahem!” Murgatroyd tried to slink into the station totally unnoticed, but John had no compunctions about making sure they were seen. “So, I assume that you two will be conducting all of this railway’s freight services from now on?”

“Oh,” Pip’s smile was very guilty looking as she turned away from the still shell-shocked Thomas. “Yeah. About that…” She swallowed deeply. “I’m… sorry about… y’know. All of that. The overtake.”

“What, me? Overtaken?” Murgatroyd tried and failed to play dumb. Well, a different kind of dumb from usual. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Pip’s smile grew much harder edged, and Gordon took the moment to intercede. “Look, Pip. You don’t owe that any apology of any form.” 

Murgatroyd looked aggrieved. Gordon turned on him next. “And you. You are an uncouth abomination who have done nothing useful at all. Take the apology, cause no more trouble, and find yourself a better attitude elsewhere.”

Murgatroyd puffed himself up with self-righteous fury, and John regretted being an instigator. 

“WELL, I-” He started.

“Oh shut up!” Thomas bellowed. “Stop talking before I come down there and peel you, you great useless banana! Everything that’s happened to me today is all your fault!” 

 Murgatroyd quailed under the impressive amount of vitriol Thomas was spewing, and he left in a chastised burst of soot and clag. John followed in his wake, not sure what, if anything to say. “Bye Pip. Bye Emma.”

Once the NMT had vanished from sight, Pip, Emma, and Gordon turned their attention back to Thomas. 

“Great useless banana?” Gordon raised an eyebrow. 

Thomas didn’t have the energy for a proper comeback, and simply stared at him knowingly. 

“Fine, fine,” Gordon acknowledged the unsaid. “For an off-the-buffer moment after the day you’ve had, it was a fine jab. I’m just glad that you’re beginning to feel more like yourself.” He began to steam off towards the shed. “As such, I’ll be off.”

“Wait!” Thomas called. “Where are you going? Who’s taking me on the pick-up goods?”

“Thomas, I don’t take the pick-up goods,” Gordon called regally. “That’s what we have diesels for. I believe there’s two of them right in front of you!”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!”

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

Post script: Low-loaders were subsequently banned from Pip and Emma's trains

[pancho-pinto]

Boys' Girl Problems

gift for @myfuckingpenexploded / @crystal-consumer for @mcyt-trick-or-treat!

Fandom: Hermitcraft, 3rd Life Words: 3,043 Rating: General Warnings: No Warnings Relationships: Gem & Joel, Gem/Pearl Additional Tags: High School AU, Internalized Homophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Coming Out, Hopeful Ending Summary: Pearl and Etho are over again, hanging out in Tango's room as they do every other day. The wall separating them is thin, and she can hear them laughing. She can hear Pearl, which only reminds her of the things that could be but aren't. Gem is conflicted, and a dumb scuffle with Joel finally brings her some support she desperately needs.

fic under cut

One thing Gem hates about their house are the thin walls. 

Just on the other side of the wall, right beside her room, she can hear the chatter going on in her twin’s room. Despite Tango saying he’d never be mad at Gem for telling him to shut up, Gem keeps her mouth shut. But not because she isn’t bothered by the noise and laughing and whatnot, but because this is that rare chance she gets to hear Pearl be her silly, goofy self. 

In hindsight, this is very pathetic because she could just go over and they can all hang out as a group. Tango invites her every time, and every time, she rejects it. 

It wouldn’t be fair—corrupting their innocent hang-out with her selfish reasons? She couldn’t bring herself to do that to them. To Tango, much less Pearl—she could to Etho, probably; and Joel for sure wouldn’t have minded being dragged over. 

She blinks a couple of times, trying to tune out their voices, focusing on the boy in her bed. If ‘bored’ ever needs a model, Joel for sure is her top pick. 

However, instead of nudging or kicking him, she crawls over and lays beside him. Joel facing the door and her facing away from it, their upper bodies meeting in the middle of the bed, both staring at her ceiling. She places her hands on her stomach, one hand over the other, and tries to not think. 

Which she fails, but that’s besides the point. 

“I found this book, Gem,” Joel says just as she opens her mouth to speak. She presses her lips shut, frowning. She and Joel have this weird connection that she doesn’t even have with her twin—always knowing when the other is about to speak and promptly interrupting, especially during important moments. Still, she lets him, deciding that she will continue to wallow in her misery alone. “You’ll love it.”

She tilts her head back when she catches movement, watching as Joel raises an open book over his head. It’s a small book, an inch shorter than a phone and seemingly as wide as one. She tries to read but the small words blur, and she can’t be bothered to grab her glasses. 

“Gem, why did the M&M go to school?”

There is a moment of realization, an instant one that has Gem freezing on the spot. Her vision continues to unblur as Joel waits for her answer, one she doesn’t want to give. A question, she is supposed to answer with a question and then Joel gets to finish the joke. 

Faintly, a round of laughter from the other room. Gem almost imagines that’s life laughing in her misery. Joel still waits. 

A sigh, defeat, “Why?”

And in the most monotone voice, without even trying to make it humorous, almost like an act of solidarity so they are both suffering in equal parts, Joel replies. “Because he wants to be a Smartie.”

They watch the book as her room falls into silence. Gem wants to cry, probably. Though she doesn’t know if for her current situation or because she can still hear her—Pearl, laughing with such a genuine glee she wants to cry. 

She rolls over onto her stomach, hugging her arms around her head in preparation for the tears. Her heart beats hard against the bed, there is tension on her shoulders. Instead of stupid jokes, why couldn’t Joel see she is upset? Why couldn’t she ask for comfort? Why did it have to be like this?

Pearl is Tango’s friend. And she is Tango’s twin. But because she is his twin, she’s never wanted to cross the line. Logically, she knows Tango wouldn’t care, but in the off chance that he did, how could she betray him? That’s her twin! 

And Pearl—

Pearl is Tango’s friend. Pearl is wonderful and fun and so genuine. Pearl is so unapologetically quirky and silly and goofy, she wears her heart and feelings on her sleeves, and the whole world is a better place because she exists in it—

“What kind of tea is hard to swallow? Reali-tea.” 

And she’s pretty. Tall, long hair, her eyes are beautiful brows and her lips are a little thin but perfect. She is on the lankier side but plays so many sports, and is great at all of them. Her skin is soft and her hands tender—

“If you see a robbery at an Apple store, what does that make you? An i-witness.”

Pearl is perfect. Pearl is lovely. But Pearl is a girl.

A better girl. The best girl. 

Who could Gem compare to all the boys so readily willing to give her the world?

Pearl is a wonderful girl. The best girl. She deserves so much better. 

“Knock, knock. Who’s there? Gem. Gem who? Gem why aren’t you listening to me?”

As soon as Joel rolls over her, Gem kicks into fight mode and shoves him as she rolls away. However, as Joel is, he chases and sticks as close as he can until she hits the headboard, squashing the pillows against the board and her back, both of them rolled up in her blankets. 

She holds her forearm against Joel’s back, who is practically laying on her front. 

“Get off!”

“You weren’t listening to me, Gem.”

“I don’t care about your dumb jokes!” Her voice wavers with a half-hiccup, and Joel stops pushing back against her. He stays where he is, facing away from her, covering her and… oddly enough, it feels like protecting her. When she speaks again, her voice is soft and quiet, terrified to be heard, “Joel, please…”

Joel’s reply isn’t quick, nor loud, rather, it’s something forced and strained—giving both of them an out instead of having some deep conversation. She’s known him almost as long as Tango’s known Pearl and Etho, but she never thought that they were that close, though now she realizes they have been. 

For a while, even. 

“You know,” Joel says, using that ‘macho’ tone when he’s facing off the older boys in school, challenging yet dismissing, uninterested yet it’s laced with sarcasm for the special occasion—all forced, so unlike him, but that’s not something she can think about right now even if she would rather talk about that in place of her current feelings and thoughts—, “whatever problem you have, it’s probably none of my concern. Either way, not like I can help you with anything anyways—”

Gem feels brave because she can’t see him, because the other option is breaking into sobs, and she responds with as much animosity. It’s a front, they know. Makes this easy, pretending that they don’t care. 

“Of course you can, it’s girl problems.”

He tenses against her forearm. She wavers. This is it, then? Judgment day?

“What… kind of girl problems?”

“Boys’ girl problems,” she hisses, lips pursed into a scowl. She breathes in stutters, like she can’t quite steady herself. Pearl laughs on the other side before Joel gets the chance to speak, and her world shatters even more. How can Pearl be so close yet far? It isn’t fair. It isn’t.

His silence, her laugh—Gem wants to hide under her blankets like a little girl again, safe from the world and away from all these dizzying thoughts. Her chest tightens and she can’t bring herself to keep it all in anymore.

Suddenly, with a single sob, her room falls into a deafening silence. Like any and every sound is extinguished, left only with her broken sobs and strangling hiccups, suffocating against Joel’s back but safe from… from something. Everything outside of herself. Everything but her—

“Do… you want me to call Tango?” Joel asks and he sounds so far away. 

Gem musters a weak ‘no’ and they stay in place. 

The corners of her eyes begin to irritate and her face becomes damp and sticky, too hot for comfort too but she can’t bring herself to move. Useless, is all her mind offers when she tries to think of anything. Useless, she mouths as she forces her eyes shut. In a pathetic attempt to call for help, she takes a handful of Joel’s shirt in her hands—pleading he stays? Pleading for help? What does she need?

What does she want?

Her. 

She wants her so bad. 

But she can’t. She can’t.

“C’mon Gem, you’re better than this,” Joel says, and she knows she is better than this. But she can’t help it. He knows she can’t, she can hear the pity in his voice. “Want… to hear a joke about pizza? I’m… sure that will make you feel better.”

Things happen around her—he pulls away and desperation overtakes her, holding onto him in a panic that breaks her own heart. But he stays, rolls to his knees to face her, one hand holding her wrist, the other holding her arm. She drops her head in shame, disgusted with herself for her messy state. 

“Nevermind,” Joel says softly, in a shaky voice, “it’s too cheesy anyways…”

He holds her hand instead of her wrist, his other hand prying the blankets from them. The bed is a mess, she feels a mess. Then he guides her off the bed, inching to the edge and making sure to be by her side when she stands on unsteady legs. 

“I’ll say it if you need to hear it,” he whispers when her head drops on his shoulder, standing a couple seconds to regain balance. He is warm and he is sturdy, she can’t help leaning on him. He isn’t pushing her away now, she needs to enjoy this for as long as it will last. A long time, she hopes. “I don’t care who you like or who you are, I will be here, and I will protect you if I have to. If anyone gives you crap at school, you tell me and I will beat their asses. You know I don’t care about expulsion, and… And I care about you, alright? That won’t change, ever.”

“Thanks,” she mouths, and a final hot tear rolls down her itchy cheek. 

Gem rubs the back of her hand on already irritated skin, feeling the sting but feeling lighter in her chest. She breathes in and out, fighting the slight headache from sobbing and practically being suffocated by Joel. When he takes a small step, she feels ready and follows, the distance from her bed to the door like an eternity passing in a flash. 

Joel places a hand on the doorknob, pausing a second. She rubs the underside of her eyes again, peeking one eye at him. Joel is looking at the doorknob, intently, deep in thought but he answers before she asks. 

It’s still quiet, hushed words like he’s making sure to protect her ‘secret’ too, “Talk about putting the L in LGBT…”

Gem shoves him against the door, a measly push that barely moves him. But she smiles, and he smiles twice as wide when she does. 

Despite her parents not being home or them doing anything suspicious, they sneak out of her room on tip-toes into the bathroom. Gem washes her face with cold water, and Joel splashes her when she looks at the mirror too long. It’s not long before the bathroom is completely wet, and it’s not long before they are tossing the last dirty towel on the hamper. 

The house is quiet as they walk to the living room, in unison taking a detour to the kitchen instead. Instantly, they look through the fridge and cabinets and pantry for food, the insatiable hunger of teens who remembered they can eat. 

Through the mundane sound of doors and the quiet hiss of the fridge door, rattling cutlery and packaging rustling, Gem finds a sliver of her voice—still quiet, but a small sound still manages to get Joel’s attention. 

“I… Joel? I think I might be… bi…?”

He turns to her, and she looks back, finding that same unreadable expression on his face. His voice, too, remains monotone, “Don’t say you’re bi if you haven’t had sex with a bicycle.”

She blinks at him. A couple times, before she is throwing the paper towel roll at his head. Of course, he catches it and tosses it back, and she catches it unrolled. 

“You are awful.”

“And you somehow managed to take not one but two L’s all by yourself.”

She rolls her eyes so far back it hurts, slamming the roll on the counter. Still, they go about their search, finding nothing to eat in the stocked kitchen, so they stand in front of the fridge, looking at it like food will materialize if they stare long enough. 

And once again, without saying it, they grab what they need for some pancakes. Beats ordering food, and above that, it beats asking the others to eat together. Gem doesn’t think she can face Pearl right then, or Tango. She can’t come out to her twin because her crush is his friend, a very close friend, and she can’t ruin that for them. 

She stares at the little dish in the microwave, the butter melting in it—she realizes she would never forgive herself if Tango lost Pearl because of her stupid feelings. 

“I’ll be back,” Joel says, gesturing to where they had come from, probably to the bathroom. Gem gives him a nod.

She pours the melted butter, milk, vanilla, and an egg into another bowl, whisking it together. Joel comes back as she starts to stir the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients, going behind her to start the stove. 

“Hey, Gem?”

“Hm?”

“Did you hear about the crazy pancake?”

“Oh gosh. No. What about it?”

“I don’t know, he just flipped.”

Gem stares at the back of his head, holding back from smacking him. Kitchen safety and all that. She walks over, placing the bowl beside him. 

“I need to change. You okay on your own?”

“Cooking pancakes for my beautiful friend,” Joel says with faux cheer. 

Gem rolls her eyes again, but there is a smile on her lips, “Who the heck is burning down my kitchen?”

Joel smiles back then shoos her away. Promptly, and gladly, she walks about from the stupid jokes and puns, even if their absurdities and Joel’s pure intent does warm her heart. A second after entering her room, a knock stops her from taking her sweat-soaked shirt. 

“Come in.”

She turns and sees Tango peeking his head in, “Hey, we are going to the mall. Wanna come with?”

Gem does what she always does—thinks of Pearl, thinks of Tango, thinks of her feelings and their friendship—and she shakes her head. 

“Joel and I just started making pancakes,” she says, apologetically. 

“Aww, why didn’t you say so sooner?” Tango pouts, and she smiles. It’s for the better.

“I’ll save you some!”

“Nah, it’s alright. Do you want anything, then?” 

She shakes her head again. “You three be careful, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tango salutes her, and then disappears before the door closes. 

Gem stares at the door, wanting so bad to go with them. She knows she can’t, but she wishes she could. Regardless, Tango is gone now, and she expects the other two to be out by now too. It’s just her and Joel, and maybe she can tell him all about her turmoil and dumb feelings. He will help her put distance because she can’t. 

She hates relying on others but this… She is too weak for this. 

After changing into another shirt, Gem makes a stop in the bathroom, not fully closing the door. She splashes some more water on her face, glad that the redness is fully gone now. It must’ve been gone by the time Tango saw her, or he would’ve said something, which he didn’t. 

She sighs, crying her face into a towel, then her hands fall on the edge of the sink. She stares at it, tracing the circle of the drain with her eyes. 

The world stops for what feels like the hundredth time. 

A hand appears on the corner of her eyes, gently placed on top of hers, squeezing her fingers lightly. Tenderly. So warm. 

“Are you okay, Gem? I didn’t hear you at all today. Had me worried,” Pearl says, and there is a playful tone in her voice, worry as her undertone. 

Gem looks up to see Pearl, whole body freezing. Pearl has a kind smile, beautiful eyes. And Gem’s lips part without words. It took this long for Gem to realize that being able to hear them three means that they were able to hear her and Joel all this time too. She feels stupid, but her mind is clouded by Pearl’s presence to really be able to think about anything. 

She nods, small. Pearl is unconvinced, but she doesn’t push it either. 

“Alright then, if you say so.” Pearl smiles, so pretty. Gem fixates on her lips, then drops her head when she realizes. Her eyes fall on their hands, Pearl’s almost covering hers fully. Her heartbeat is steady but loud, her breathing small and fragile. “Tango said you weren’t coming with us. I hope you can come hang out with us some time, Gem. You and Joel—”

Yes, Gem almost blurts out, so ready to give up everything to do as Pearl wants. 

But her lips remain shut, giving a non-committed shrug in return. 

“—but mostly you.” Pearl whispers beside her ear, her cheek brushing against Gem’s, the touch sending shivers down Gem’s spine. Her lips brush against her jaw, and Gem has to force her eyes shut, holding her breath as Pearl lingers close. So close. 

Then she is pulling away, and Gem can’t face her. 

“I’ll see you later, Gem!” 

Pearl is gone after that, the bathroom door left ajar like she’d never even been there in the first place. Gem raises a hand to her face, fingertips brushing the places that Pearl had touched. Slowly, she opens her eyes to see her hand, the back of it, still tingling.

She holds her fist against her thundering heart, a whirlwind of emotions suddenly rushing over her. 

There’s a chance.

[slvtforoldermen]

SKZ x Sex Drive

How horny are the members of Stray Kids: Most to Least.

Warnings: Smut duh. Discussions of sex drive and boundaries. Pegging implied.

PLEASE REQUEST IF YOU WANT ANYTHING 🤍🤍

Most

1. Jisung

- Are we surprised? He gets so desperate and so clingy like, all he wants is to be inside you or for you to be inside him~ He’s so soft and sweet but he’s so horny and desperate that he can’t help but cum the minute he slides into your pussy. He makes up for it though, he always does, because he eats you are so good after. He gets so upset if you don’t wanna have sex with him if you’re busy or just not feeling it. He’ll be pouty yes, but he would never EVER want you to feel guilty about not being in the mood.

2. Changbin

- Okay, imo this man is HORNY!! Like, his sex drive is high, not creepy high where he’s thinking about sex 24/7, but when he sees even an inch of your skin that you usually cover, even when it’s starting to get warmer after a cold winter and you wear shorts or a crop top for the first time, he can’t keep his thoughts away. He gets frustrated easily, so he’s not having sex with you everyday because he can just go to the gym if he wants to let off some steam, and if you’re not in the mood, he’ll drill it into your mind that he’s not mad before you runs off to the gym. He just, he loves you so much and you have to torture him by having such a sexy body. It’s not fair, let him like… eat your pussy or something, once a day at least?

3. Felix

- Guys, he just, he’s just so lovable and romantic when he’s horny. He’s so gentle. You’ll be in the kitchen and even though he’s stressed and horny out of his mind, he’ll still wrap his arms around your waist and kiss your neck softly, quietly begging asking if he can take you to bed. If you say no, he’ll be so so understanding, all he’ll want is a cuddle and to vent about what happened the day. He’s incredibly horny, yes, but he knows your boundaries and he wouldn’t ever dare cross them.

4. Bangchan

- Now listen here, when this man wants to restrain himself he will, but when he’s horny, he’s a monster. There’s a reason why the man wrote Railway, it’s because he’ll run a train onto you. When he’s mad or stressed, he’ll be rough, grunting and groaning as if he’s a… wolf 😏. But he wouldn’t hurt you, he wouldn’t ever try to hurt you. Even when he’s mad, he’ll still check up on you, and prep you. That’s a must now cmon, have you seen him? If you say no, he won’t even touch you unless you ask him to, he treats you a little too delicately, which sometimes pisses you off, and then you need to prove to him that you’re not made of glass.

5. Jeongin

- BARK BARK!! Sorry, it’s very clear he’s my bias wrecker. Anyway, Jeonginnie isn’t the horniest of the bunch, despite a lot of contradiction, he’s got a lot of self control when it comes to his sex drive. But when Jeongin fucks, Jeongin fucks. He’ll go down on you as if you was addicted to your taste (when he defo is but he won’t admit it), he’ll be sweet sometimes, smiling at you sweetly as you look so pretty under him, he’ll praise you and kiss you for hours. But when he’s stressed, GAWD DAYUM, daddy toast has arrived. Due to being the youngest, he has an inkling of a control kink, he’s not submissive at ALL, so he’ll be rough with you when he’s mad, unless you tell him to stop. If you tell him no, he’ll be slightly confused, because now he has a raging boner and no idea what to do, but always ends up jerking off. NEVER makes you feel bad, he loves you way too much for that.

6. Seungmin

- A lot of people think he’s horny, however, I think Seungmin’s sex drive depends on yours. If he wasn’t with you, he would probably jerk off like once or twice a week. He’s got better things to do with his time. But he finds how horny you get endearing, and that gets him horny. If he is horny and you’re not in the mood, you guys will end up cuddling and he’ll hold you. He secretly loves domesticity. If he’s frustrated he’ll be rough: if he’s calm, well… that all depends on you being bratty or not.

7. Hyunjin

- Like Changbin, Hyunjin has other vices, but unlike Changbin, he can keep his horniness down impeccably well. Ever since he started painting regularly, he doesn’t feel as horny as often. When he does, he’s so romantic. I can’t picture this man being rough: he’s a soft dom, period, the end. When you say no, he’ll offer to paint you, which is something you can’t say no to, he loves painting you, half of his paintings are just you. Overall, he’s a sweet lover who loves painting you, whether that be on an easel with acrylics, or on your body with his cum.

8. Lee Know

- The same situation as Seungmin. His sex drive depends on yours. He’s a talented lover and he’ll take his time with you. He’s gentle and loving, but when you want him to be rough, his sweet switch will turn off and he’ll be mean easy. I don’t believe this man is cold at all, he’s kind and gentle and loving… until you’re a brat and you break that barrier, then he’ll fuck you into tomorrow, with tomorrow’s aftercare being incredible. If you say no, he’ll be a little confused, because normally you’re the one initiating, so he feels a little insecure, but once you explain why, he’ll smile and cuddle you. Minho’s a cuddler, period.

Least

[lovecoredeity]

fun scene idea that I’ll probably never get around to drawing: someone grabbing a wanted poster from a board or wall only to reveal a missing persons poster featuring the same person as on the wanted poster underneath it (also the reward for them as a wanted person is higher than the reward for returning them when they were missing)

[whatthemusicfreak]

Anyone else think about how Drew’s ENTIRE friendgroup knew his girlfriend was cheating on him for presumably around TWO MONTHS except for him? Must’ve been so awkward for all of them.

Also the one thing I cannot forgive Jake for

Zoey: Did the cheating, obviously not gonna say anything

Lia: Zoey’s bestie, not gonna rat her out (possibly scared of what Zoey would do if she did as well, not sure, most likely afraid of being outcast from the popular girl group idk)

Henry and Liam: threatened by Zoey not to say anything

Jake: KNEW ABOUT IT?? AND JUST DIDN’T FEEL LIKE SAYING ANYTHING I GUESS?? I can get not saying anything AFTER episode 3 cuz then you ruin the blackmail you have on her but like WAS HE PLANNING TO SAVE IT FOR BLACKMAIL FOR A WHOLE MONTH??? Brother TELL YOUR FRIEND WHAT’S HAPPENING 😭

And like I guess you could try to apply the “just generally scared of Zoey” thing to Jake but idk, Zoey had NO IDEA he knew, he could tell Drew in private and tell him not to say who told him, also he was REALLY confident in blackmailing her with it. Sure she DID get him back for that eventually but still I don’t think he was scared.

[youngyoo-apologist]

OG Choi Han they could never make me hate you cause if some random rich boy was yelling at me and telling me my family deserved to die like a day after it happened and all I wanted was to know how I could get help I’d beat him up too

This plus the added fact that the Harris Village people were the first people to take Choi Han in and take care of him after years and years in the dark forest. Like he’s obviously not going to be mentally stable after all that, and he was so young when everything happened to him like I cannot blame him at all. I don’t think I can ever hate OG Choi Han like ever, he’s flawed, he has problems, but I love him dearly. He deserves the world. This kid who had to fight for his life, was taken away from his family, and in the process had to give up parts of his own humanity to survive, and like went to war two years later, they could never make me hate u OG Choi Han…

Like yeah violence is bad I guess but OG Cale had it coming(saying this as an OG Cale fan, I love him, but he was mean as hell when he was younger!)

If I’m honest, I think they were both in the wrong to an extent. Like OG Cale shouldn’t have said all that no matter the circumstances, and OG Choi Han shouldn’t have beaten him up so much. But u say mean shit and you get hit, that is how it will work when you’re talking to the guy who just saw his entire village get murdered like idkkkk man

I understand where OG Cale was coming from, but he had many issues and while he wasn’t an awful person, he was capable of doing bad things because of his own internalized pain and emotions that he never got to properly process because of his emotionally distant childhood and relationship with his father who should have been there for him more when he was younger.

Okay speaking of his childhood, Deruth isn’t the WORST father in the world but there are a lot of things he could have done better. I think a lot of Deruth’s flaws come from his fear of failure and messing up. He’s scared of doing the wrong thing, and so he sticks to doing what he knows and using what he knows best. That’s why he uses his money, that’s why gift giving is his way of showing affection, he knows that it is one thing he cannot mess up.

The problem is that money and gifts is NOT what OG Cale needed. I think what that guy needed the most was a parent who wasn’t afraid to talk to him, to ask him questions. Not to say that Deruth gave up on OG Cale, but I think in a way he gave up on OG Cale by giving up on himself. Deruth didn’t trust himself to have the capabilities to talk to OG Cale, which is why he never did. It’s because that Deruth was scared, and didn’t trust himself, that he could never face OG Cale

If Deruth was able to trust himself a little more, and pull himself together, I don’t think OG Cale would have turned out the way he did. As a kid, he probably thought the only way he could help his family without relying on anyone(no doubt this whole ‘I have to do it myself’ thing came from the fact that he couldn’t rely on his father when his mom died, and instead was acting as a pillar of support for his father when it should have been the other way around) was to sabotage himself, the only heir. If he was shown to be unfit to be heir, then everyone else would have no choice but to direct their hatred towards him instead of his family.

If Deruth had talked to his son at least ONCE when he was a kid, asking him why he was upset or why he did the things he did, I think OG Cale would have told him. Why? Because he’s a kid!! A kid will obviously want to rely on his father, if he just had one sign telling him that he didn’t have to do it alone I’m 90% sure OG Cale would have said something.

Basically, while Deruth isn’t the worst father, he’s not really a great father either. I think he does do his best, but he has issues with communication lol

OG Cale and OG Choi Han are both complex characters and had their own reasons to behave the way they did. The thing is with people is that they’re complicated and have layers, so the situation with them would have layers behind it as well with multiple co-existing truths and stuff

[no1ryomafan]

The urge to do a breakdown of arma and new ryoma specifically to try to understand why new ryoma is not at all acknowledged compared to arma despite new having far more screen time and being explored as a character then arma is so strong even though the answer boils down to two things: “art style preference” and “no one cares about ryoma as a actual nuance character” but both of those points makes me so mad💀

[ssruis]

Going through a straight up comical amount of irritating situations to get the stupid 4* guaranteed ticket from the welcome to sekai campaign. It Will Be Mine.

[makotonaegiunderstander]

do you ever go do autism crazy for something you can feel it in ur chest. like it’s hard to breathe almost it’s making you gasp for breath and jump around physically. got an adrenaline rush thinking abt Kirigiri.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

So, if I start reading translations online for chapters, do you think I have to start over from chapter 1, or do you think that knowing changes that were made, I won't lose much if I start from where I last finished in playing in the EN version?

I think EN is mostly the same as JP, but key parts of the experience definitely get left out in EN. It’s fine to just play through the localization if you’re looking to generally understand the story. You don’t need to start from the beginning to follow what’s going on. I suggest reading translations if you have the time for it or just cross referencing them if you sense that something feels “off” in the EN version.

There is no comprehensive compilation of all differences between JP and EN; it would be very difficult to search up and educate yourself on every localization change. However, I encourage you to go out of your way to look into these differences when possible; it’s an interesting study of our cultural differences.

Please also note that there is considerable cut content from episode 5! You’ll need to search up the missing scenes on Youtube for the “full” TWST experience.

See the tags for a surprise—

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

remember! when someone’s mad at you for a reason they made up just to justify being mad at you, you should explode them with your mind

[scholarhect]

[normal rockwell guy painting] i think it’s ok that those women on tiktok are reading porn books all the time. reading porn books is okay

[soni-dragon]

Never ever EVER buy household appliances with ai in them. Most ridiculous things I’ve ever encountered

[lesbianworlock]

Posted several vent posts that I think painted my wife and i’s relationship in a really negative light, and they don’t use tumblr anymore and literally can’t see them but I remembered I had irl’s on here and feel I should clarify that I genuinely love my wife and love being in a relationship with them.

Love as an autistic person dating a non autistic person is often times difficult. We have a gap in our communication that sometimes manifests as one or both of us getting angry. But we are also both adults and those fights are quick to resolve, and are few and far between anyway. I just only ever post about that stuff and nothing else.

I feel like I have to vent HERE because my best friend is ALSO my wife’s best friend and I CANNOT vent to people we both know what if I accidentally change their perception of my wife 😭😭😭

I need to start posting good things my wife does too so I don’t change my tumblr friends and mutual’s perspective of my wife because I was mad when they wouldn’t check their bag for their wallet at 6 am this morning and posted in anger without proofreading my tags to see how bad they sounded

Like I love my wife my wife is so cool I am my wife’s number one fan. Thank you.

[anthyies]

jack drake is a dad for sure