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eu-nicola · 1 day ago

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the finish line part 3

part 1 part 2

summary: you are the girlfriend of Lando Norris, Max Verstappen's rival with whom the tension between the two is undeniable.

warnings: nothing

word counter: 6122

author's note: english is not my first language, penultimate part

tags: @ferakillia @bunnies-p1tst0p @maluzets55

Determined to work things out, you called Lando and asked to speak in person. Even though deep down you already knew it would be a difficult and probably painful conversation, you also knew you couldn’t keep running away from your problems. Lando agreed to meet you at the hotel cafeteria, though his tone on the phone sounded tense and distant.

As you got ready, your stomach was turning. You thought back to the pictures and messages you’d received, the missed calls Lando had made to you after being discovered, and everything that had happened between you and Max. You took a breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, wanting to feel safe, and walked out to Lando’s hotel.

When you got to the cafeteria, you found him already waiting for you at a table in the back. He had a stiff posture, his hands folded in front of him on the table and his gaze fixed on the coffee in front of him. His eyes lifted slightly when he saw you arrive, and you noticed the mix of discomfort and guilt he was trying to hide under a calm facade.

You sat in silence, watching him carefully. After a few seconds, he broke the silence.

“Look, I don’t want… this conversation to get out of hand,” Lando began, his voice wavering. “I know you’re upset, and I’m clear on why. I just want you to know that… it wasn’t what it seemed.”

You looked at him, eyes narrowing. His words sounded forced, as if he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying. It hurt you to see him like this, so changed, so full of insecurity.

“It wasn’t what it seemed, Lando?” you asked, keeping your tone firm. “I saw the photos. Everyone has seen them.”

He frowned, clearly upset.

“You don’t have to make this any harder,” he replied in a defensive tone. “It was a mistake. I was just… I needed to distract myself.” But that doesn't change how I feel about you.

A mixture of anger and disappointment ran through you. You had expected a sincere apology, something more than excuses and empty promises. You tried to remain calm, but your words came out with the coldness of truth.

"How I feel has changed too, Lando," you said quietly. "All of this... I don't know if it makes sense."

Lando lowered his gaze, but you noticed that he still maintained that defensive air. It was clear that he wasn't fully assuming his responsibility; he didn't seem willing to face the consequences of his decisions.

"So this is it?" he asked in a bitter tone. "For a mistake? You weren't even there to support me like you always do. And what was I supposed to do?" His words sounded reproachful, as if he were trying to transfer part of the blame to you.

You bit your lip, holding back your fury. You knew it had been difficult for him not to have you around, but that didn't justify his attitude. Finally, you gathered your courage and faced the issue once and for all.

“This isn’t just about what happened, Lando. There’s something bigger going on here,” you told him firmly. “I need some time to think, to get clear on what I really want. I can’t stay in a relationship where I constantly have to worry about whether or not you’ll do the right thing when I’m gone.”

He gulped, and for a moment, you saw a flash of genuine pain in his eyes. But instead of acknowledging the problem, he chose to back away once again.

“Do what you want then,” he said, letting out a frustrated sigh and looking away. “If you need time, go ahead. I’m not going to stop you.”

Those words were confirmation of everything you had felt during this last stage of your relationship. Without further ado, you stood up, leaving one last glance at the one you had considered your partner for so long. There was a moment of silence between the two of you, and then you turned around and walked out of the coffee shop without looking back.

As you walked away, you felt a strange mix of relief and sadness. You had hoped that this conversation would bring you some sort of peace, a reconciliation, or at least a heartfelt explanation. But instead, it only confirmed what you already feared: perhaps it was time to put an end to it.

Back in your hotel room, you took a seat on the bed and looked around, trying to process everything that had happened. The room was silent, and the weight of your decision began to settle in, bringing with it a wave of conflicting emotions. You pulled out your phone and, almost without thinking, opened the message Max had sent you hours ago, wondering how your conversation with Lando had gone.

Without much hesitation, you wrote him a short reply.

You: “We just talked… and I think I need some time to sort out my feelings.”

After a few minutes, the phone vibrated. Max had replied:

Max: “Do whatever you need. Just remember that if you decide to move on, I’m here for you. You don’t have to face it alone.”

Reading his words, you felt a small spark of calm, as if the weight of everything that had happened had lightened a little. You knew that this time away would be necessary to understand what it was that you really wanted, but there was one thing clear in all of this: you needed to feel authentic again, without the shadows of a relationship that had begun to consume more than it offered.

Even though you wanted to take some time off, the last race of the year was being held in Abu Dhabi, and you had to attend. For you, the trip had a professional purpose: the promotion of Rolex. Despite having distanced yourself from Lando and having spent a few days trying to find clarity about your feelings, you knew that this race would also be the closing of an intense and emotional season.

Dressed elegantly, you wore a shiny Rolex watch that caught the light with every movement. As you walked through the paddock, you felt the gazes of some acquaintances and other members of the industry; everyone knew that you had been a constant figure in Lando's team, and now it seemed strange to see you in an independent context.

While you were fulfilling your promotional tasks, you crossed paths with Max. He wore his usual determined expression, but this time there was something different in his gaze. When he saw you, his eyes lit up slightly, as if something in him had made up his mind. You noticed that, despite the crowd, his steps were heading straight towards you, with a confidence that made your pulse race.

"Hey," he said, smiling slightly. "I didn't think I'd find you here so early. How have you been?" His tone was warm, close, something different from the previous times.

“I'm… fine, I guess” you answered, trying to sound casual, although the closeness made you feel a mix of nervousness and curiosity. “I had to be here for Rolex. You know what this sponsorship thing is like.”

He nodded, and for a moment they remained silent, watching the hustle and bustle of preparations around them.

“I know things have been complicated for you lately” Max said, with a more serious tone than usual. “And I don't want to seem nosy, but… I haven't stopped thinking about what we talked about last time.”

The sincerity in his words threw you off a little. You had tried to stay distant, focus on yourself, and not think about everything you had experienced. But there was Max, with his penetrating gaze and his usual confidence, willing to open up in a way that you hadn't seen in him until now.

“I'm not here to pressure you” he continued, looking into your eyes. “I just wanted you to know that… I’m willing to fight for you, if you just give me a chance.”

His confession resonated with you, breaking the barrier you had built up over the past few weeks. You felt like it wasn’t just a passing statement; there was a depth to his words that made you doubt everything you had tried to rationalize. Deep down, something in you had been waiting to hear this, though you refused to admit it.

“Max…” you began, not knowing exactly how to express what you felt. “I don’t know if this is the right thing to do. After everything that’s happened, I’m not sure that getting more involved is the best thing for either of us.”

He nodded, listening to each word patiently.

“I know,” he replied. “But there’s something I’ve learned this season, and that is that important opportunities aren’t always the easiest ones. I’ve been avoiding speaking clearly to you because I didn’t want to make things more complicated for you. But if I’m honest, I can’t pretend that I don’t care about you.”

The seriousness in his eyes left you speechless. He wasn’t the usual Max, arrogant and competitive; he was someone vulnerable, showing a part of him that was rarely seen. And although a part of you wanted to keep putting up barriers, another, deeper part of you was starting to give in to his words and his sincerity.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

“What happened with Lando was difficult… and I don’t want you to be just a distraction, Max.” It wouldn't be fair to either of you.

He took a step closer, not invading your personal space, but enough for you to feel his presence more intensely.

"I'm not someone who'll settle for being a distraction," he said with a slight smile, but his tone was firm. "What I feel for you is real. And if you give me the chance, I'm willing to show you that I'm someone you can trust."

His words enveloped you, making you feel a warmth and security that you hadn't experienced in a long time. The hardness of the breakup with Lando was still present, but Max's presence offered you an alternative, a chance to rediscover what you really wanted and, perhaps, to be happy in a fuller sense.

After a few seconds of silence, you took a breath, letting your own emotions take control.

"I don't know what will happen after all this..." you murmured, looking at the floor for a moment before looking up and meeting his gaze. "But I think I'm willing to see where this takes us."

The smile on his face was almost imperceptible, but his eyes shone with a mix of determination and tenderness.

“Then I’ll start showing it from now on,” he said, taking your hand gently. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, I just want you to know that I’m here for you. No matter how long it takes.”

After that brief exchange with Max, he said goodbye with a wink and walked away, leaving behind a feeling of anticipation that you couldn’t shake. You watched as he walked towards the Red Bull paddock, surrounded by his team, while you stood still for a moment, trying to clear your thoughts.

You decided it was time to move as well. You walked through the paddock area, the hustle and bustle around you. Drivers, engineers and journalists came and went, all focused on their own roles.

Suddenly, you saw him. Lando was up ahead, briefly chatting with one of the McLaren mechanics. He turned slightly, and for a moment, his eyes met yours. It was an instant, there was no smile, no nod of recognition, just eye contact that spoke of everything beneath the surface. He seemed distant, almost cold, and before you could say anything, he looked away and kept walking.

You stood still, feeling a knot form in your stomach. That small gesture, or lack thereof, hit you harder than you expected. You knew Lando was in his zone of concentration, but you couldn’t ignore the growing emotional distance that seemed to exist between you since you arrived in Qatar.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself to keep walking, telling yourself that you couldn’t read too much into a simple glance. But the awkwardness remained.

As you left the paddock area you went straight to the VIP area to watch the race. The race was certainly a spectacle from the start. Max started from pole, while Lando started from second position.

From the first lap, Max took the lead, controlling the pace with ruthless precision. Behind him, Lando followed closely, pushing at every opportunity. But as the laps progressed, it became clear that Red Bull had fine-tuned their car to perfection. Max seemed untouchable.

Lando, however, was not giving up. He kept fighting, looking for every millimetre of advantage, every opportunity to close the gap. Until lap 38 came around. It all happened in the blink of an eye. In the fast corner before the main straight, Lando's car lost grip. Perhaps a miscalculation or just bad luck, but the McLaren hit the wall with a sharp impact. The yellow flag waved immediately, and your heart skipped a beat.

From your spot, your eyes were fixed on the giant screen, watching anxiously. Lando got out of the car quickly, waving his hands to indicate that he was okay, but you could see the frustration in his every move. He was furious.

As the McLaren team scrambled to pick up the remains of the car, the race continued. Max continued to dominate, and with each lap, his victory became more inevitable. Finally, he crossed the finish line in first place, securing the race win. Fireworks lit up the sky, and the Red Bull team erupted in celebrations.

When it was all over, you headed towards the McLaren paddock, where you saw him surrounded by his team, his face grim and his brow furrowed. There was no trace of the carefree smile he normally wore.

As he spoke to his engineers, you locked eyes with him for a brief second. He looked exhausted, not just physically, but emotionally. But he didn't say anything, and neither did you. Without exchanging words, you turned around and began walking towards the exit.

The day had been intense, and you needed time to process it all. You took a cab back to your hotel, watching the city lights flicker through the window as you sank into your thoughts. Lando was fine physically, and that was the most important thing.

Once in your room, you kicked off your shoes and dropped into bed. The day had been a whirlwind of emotions: worry about Lando, what you had talked about with Max, and a growing confusion within yourself. You picked up your phone and left it on the nightstand. You didn't know whether to expect a text from Lando or Max. Or maybe neither.

You sighed and closed your eyes.

You had barely laid down when the glow of your phone illuminated the darkness of the room. For a moment, you thought it might be Lando, perhaps to talk about what happened at the race, but when you saw Max’s name on the screen, your heart skipped a little.

Max: “I hope you’re okay after all the drama today. Listen, I was thinking… I’m going home to Monaco to rest before the next season. How about you come with me? It’d be great to have you here.”

The message was direct and blunt, typical of Max. You stared at the screen, your fingers trembling slightly on the keyboard. The proposal took you by surprise, but at the same time, there was a part of you that had anticipated it.

You knew that accepting that invitation would involve much more than a simple vacation. It wasn't just the getaway to Monaco, it was everything that it meant: getting away from Lando once and for all from your own doubts, and facing the growing attraction you felt for Max.

You bit your lip, thinking of all the possible consequences. But then, your fingers began to move almost of their own volition.

You: "I don't know if it's a good idea, Max. This is all complicated."

It wasn't long before he responded.

Max: “Complicated? Maybe. But sometimes the complicated is the most exciting. You don't have to decide now. Think about it. I promise it will be an unforgettable trip."

You closed your eyes, trying to calm your heartbeat. The silence of the room surrounded you, but your thoughts were chaos. You could imagine Max in his suite, confident and relaxed, waiting for your answer as if he already knew what it would be.

Several hours passed, with the conversation on hold. Finally, you found yourself typing something you didn't think would come out of you.

You: "Okay. I'll go. But only because I need a break, and Monaco sounds like a good place to clear my mind."

His reply came almost instantly.

Max: "Yeah, sure, just for that, but perfect. You won't regret it. Let me know when you get there and I'll take care of everything.”

You stared at your phone after reading those words, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. You had made a decision that could change everything, and while a part of you was scared, another couldn't wait to see what that vacation would bring.

The day of your flight to Monaco came faster than you expected. You had been tossing and turning in bed all night, thinking about what this new stage meant. Max had been clear in his invitation, and although you were hesitant at first, you couldn't help but feel excited about the trip. What started as a simple getaway to relax had turned into an opportunity to get to know a different side of Max. A side that until now you had only seen from afar.

You took an early morning flight, without looking back. As the plane flew through the sky, you immersed yourself in thoughts about everything you had left behind.

You arrived in Monaco around afternoon, and the airport was full of tourists, celebrities, and important figures. The warm, salty Mediterranean air mixed with the hustle and bustle of the people, and you could feel the vibrant energy emanating from the city streets.

You picked up your suitcase and quickly headed to the car Max had arranged for you. You knew you couldn't miss a second of this glamorous city, and you felt a little nervous. What did Max expect from you? How would all this change after a few days in his company?

The car drove through the narrow, elegant streets of Monaco, passing by the famous casinos, luxury yachts, and hills overlooking the sea. The scenery was stunning, as always, but even more impressive was what you felt when you thought of Max waiting for you.

When you arrived at Max's residence, a luxurious apartment overlooking the port, a butler greeted you with a smile and led you to the door. The suite was everything you had imagined: modern, spacious, and with a stunning view of the sea and yachts. The decor was elegant but warm, with touches of wood and soft colors. It wasn't just any place; it was a place designed for someone like him, someone accustomed to perfection.

You left your suitcase on the bed and looked at the clock. You knew Max had to be nearby. Not even ten minutes had passed when you heard the door open. You turned around and there he was, Max, with his characteristic air of confidence, but with something different in his gaze. It was as if, for a moment, everything was just for the two of them.

"Do you like the place?" he asked, approaching with a smile on his face.

“It’s… amazing,” I replied, looking around, trying to hide how nervous I felt.

Max took a step towards you, his gaze locked on yours, and although he seemed relaxed, there was something about his posture that gave away his interest. There was a spark in his eyes, something that made your heart beat a little faster. He moved even closer, and before you could react, his hands rested on your waist.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to come, but I’m glad you agreed,” he said quietly, almost as if he was reading your thoughts.

You were in the heart of Monaco, and although the surroundings were luxurious and surrounded by powerful people, all that really mattered at that moment was the silent connection you shared with Max.

“What do we do now?” you asked, the nervousness starting to dissipate a little.

“Whatever you want,” Max replied, with a mischievous smile. “But, if you ask me, I think we could start with dinner.”

Before you could say anything else, he took you by the hand and led you through the apartment, into the open kitchen.

Max’s kitchen was just as modern as the rest of the place, with white marble surfaces that reflected the warm light from the lamps. Max began pulling fresh ingredients out of the fridge, inviting you to join him without thinking twice. At first, you were hesitant, but something in his eyes invited you to stay.

“Do you know how to cook?” you asked as you watched him pull out tomatoes, basil, and olive oil.

Max smiled mischievously, a glint in his blue eyes. “I know a little. But only if you don’t mind getting your hands a little dirty.”

You laughed at the idea. “I’m not a chef, but I can try.”

And so, between laughs and small jokes, they began to prepare dinner together. Max had decided to make fresh pasta with homemade pesto, one of his favorite dishes. While he was busy with the pasta, you took care of the salad, chopping vegetables and arranging the ingredients carefully. It was a simple, but shared moment, and the dynamic between the two of you felt natural, as if you had been doing this for years.

As the preparation progressed, the distance between you disappeared. Max gently guided you, giving you instructions on how to handle the ingredients, his hands sometimes brushing yours as you passed utensils or adjusted something in the pot. The conversation flowed easily, and you realized that, without thinking about it, you felt more comfortable with him than you had ever imagined.

When the pasta was ready, Max served it elegantly on two large plates, and together you sat at the table, enjoying the view offered by the balcony as the sun began to set behind the hills. The golden light illuminated the room and reflected off the glass, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere. The table was well set, but the conversation and proximity made everything seem much more intimate than it actually was.

“This is amazing,” you said, taking a bite of the pasta and nodding. “You surprise me.”

Max smiled, with a hint of pride. “I told you, I knew you’d appreciate it.”

The evening continued with laughter and anecdotes, talking about other things, about travel and what you liked to do in your free time. Max seemed genuinely interested in you, in your opinions, in what you thought about the small details of life. There was something so real and accessible about him at that moment, that you completely forgot the fact that, hours before, you had arrived in Monaco with a host of mixed emotions. Now, all that mattered was the present moment.

At the end of dinner, as the plates were empty and the wine glasses were slowly emptying, Max leaned slightly towards you, his gaze locked on yours. The room was quiet, the sound of the distant city, and for a second, it seemed like there were only the two of you left, sharing that space.

“You know?” he said, his voice soft, “I think this has been much better than any dinner I could have planned. I’m happy you came.”

You, without thinking too much about it, smiled and nodded. “I’m happy too. I didn’t imagine it would end like this.”

Max smiled again, and this time, the expression on his face was different. Softer, more approachable. It wasn’t just the confident, competitive Max from racing, but a version of him that seemed more vulnerable, more willing to share something more personal.

The chemistry between you was clear, and for the first time, you realized it wasn't just a superficial attraction. There was something much deeper, something you didn't know if it could be defined with words. But at that moment, there was no need. Being there, with Max, cooking, laughing, and sharing such a simple moment, was all you needed to know.

As the days passed in Monaco, the connection between you and Max became more and more evident.

Mornings were quiet, usually spent touring the city or relaxing on the terrace of his apartment while the sun slowly slipped over the horizon, tinting the sky in golden colors. Max was always around, whether it was to share a coffee in silence or to talk about what he was thinking for the next race. Often, their conversations were light, but there were times when, without warning, Max would drop a phrase or a confession that showed you a side of him you had never seen before.

One day, after lunch together, Max drove you through the mountains surrounding Monaco. As they drove along the winding roads, he began to talk, unprompted, about his life, about what it had taken to become who he was.

“My career isn’t just the podium, you know,” he said, looking out the window as the car moved down the road. “It’s everything I’ve had to leave behind: the parties, the relationships, the sacrifices… There are so many things people don’t see, so many difficult decisions.”

You looked at him with a mix of surprise and admiration. Max had never been a person who opened up easily, always so focused on his goal, so focused on winning and perfection. But now, he was speaking to you with brutal honesty, as if somehow, he had decided to share the deepest part of himself with you.

“I know,” you answered calmly, not knowing what else to say, but you looked at him with genuine understanding. “You’ve been at the center of all this since you were so young.” It’s not easy, and people often don’t understand what it entails.

Max nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the landscape as the car continued on its way.

“That’s why it’s hard to trust people sometimes, you know?” he said, his voice laced with subtle melancholy. “Everyone expects something from you, and sometimes you don’t even know if people like you for who you are, or for what you represent.”

A wave of empathy washed over you. Max had lived a life full of expectations, external pressures, pain, and it wasn’t hard to see how all of that had made him close some emotional doors. But in that moment, it seemed like you had somehow entered his inner circle. You had gotten him to open up, to share something so personal.

What surprised you the most was the way he understood you. It wasn’t just that Max listened to you; he understood you. In every conversation, in every gesture, there was something about him that seemed to sense what you felt, what you needed without you having to explain it with words. He wasn’t like Lando, who, although he had always been affectionate, had never shown that level of deep understanding. Lando had his own way of seeing things, but in his words there was never a place for your dreams or your insecurities. With Max, everything was different.

Max also began to talk about his long-term ambitions, about what he wanted outside of the race track, things that weren’t just achievements, medals or trophies. He told you about his love for family, his desire to form one.

Sometimes, you found yourself watching him as he spoke, unable to help but feel drawn not only to his appearance, but to the vulnerability he had begun to show. This was a different Max, a Max who asked for your opinion and valued what you said, and although he could be competitive and stubborn at times, there was something in his gaze that made you feel important.

And you, of course, couldn't help but share your own thoughts with him. At first, you thought it would be hard for you to open up so much to someone, but with him, everything flowed. You felt free to talk about your goals, about fashion, about your own fears, about your insecurities. Max supported you at all times, without judging or pressuring you, just giving you his unconditional support. The way he looked at you while you talked made you feel like, for the first time, someone really understood you.

That connection was getting stronger, getting more and more impossible to ignore. And you knew, even though you tried to stay rational, that something was changing between the two of you. It wasn't just the chemistry, it wasn't just the shared smiles or the jokes, it was something deeper. Max was becoming someone more than just the Formula 1 driver you admired from afar. And you... you were starting to have feelings for him.

As the days went by and you shared more moments together, from impromptu dinners to walks around the harbor, you realized that Max was showing you a side of him that few knew about, and that side was winning you over in a way you couldn't control. It was such a stark contrast to the relationship you had with Lando, because with him, everything had always been more superficial, more loaded with expectations of what a relationship should be.

With Max, things seemed more real, more natural. And even though you didn't know how he felt exactly, you couldn't help but feel that this moment you shared was something unique.

The air in Monaco felt heavier that day, as if the sun was shining brighter as you walked through the city with Max by your side, enjoying the scenery, but at the same time with a feeling of unease in your chest. Max, noticing your change in mood, looked at you with slight concern.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft, but with the clarity of someone who knew something wasn’t right.

You nodded, trying not to give too much importance to the whirlwind of thoughts forming in your head. You had been dealing with this silently for days, but now, while you were with Max, the doubts and feelings couldn’t be left behind. You decided it was time to face it, even though you didn’t know how he would react.

Just a few minutes later, your phone vibrated in your pocket, interrupting the peaceful walk. Looking at the screen, you saw Lando’s name and felt a pang in your stomach. With your pulse racing, you decided to open the message.

Lando: “I miss you. “I want to go back, I want things to be okay between us.”

A lump formed in your throat as you read the words. You knew he had been trying to reach you, that he still held out hope that things could be like they were before, but something inside you told you it was time to let him go. You knew you couldn’t keep fooling yourself, or Lando, or Max. Everyone’s paths had changed, and even though you had loved Lando at one time, everything seemed different now. The connection with Max was something you couldn’t ignore, a truth that had been growing between you and you could no longer deny it.

With shaking hands, you began typing out your reply. You didn’t want to do it over text, but at the same time, you knew it was the most direct and honest thing to do.

You: “Lando, I appreciate you so much, but we both know our lives are taking different paths. I don’t feel the same way I used to anymore. I’m spending time with Max now… things have changed, and I can’t move on with us. You know what you did and I did it to him.”

The phone stayed in your hands for a second, your heart pounding, and before you could regret it, you hit “send.” The relief was immediate, but it was also accompanied by a soft pain, like a wound that had been slowly closing, but was still bleeding.

It wasn’t even ten minutes before Lando replied to you. The tone of his text was clear: he was hurt, frustrated, and angry.

Lando: “So you’re with Max now, huh? I can’t believe it. I knew something was going on between you two, but this… This doesn’t just hurt me, it’s going to affect our image too. You’re breaking everything we built, everything we had.”

You read those words, and even though they hurt, you knew it was the right thing to do. You knew you couldn’t continue in something that no longer had a foundation, something that had worn away inside. But Lando’s words pierced you like an arrow, and in that moment, you knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Breaking up with him didn’t just mean letting go of a relationship, but also dealing with the consequences of the decisions you had made.

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, and with a firm voice, you answered, knowing that there could be no turning back.

You: “Don't blame me, you were the one who slept with another woman and let the paparazzi catch you. This is the best for both of us, we no longer love each other like we once did.”

As soon as you sent the message, the tension in the air increased. Max, who had been by your side all this time, watched your face with an expression that seemed to understand what had just happened, although without saying a word.

Lando quickly responded, this time with more anger and resentment.

Lando: “You're going to see what's going to happen now. You know that this relationship has given us both so much, but it seems that it means nothing to you. You've left me in the lurch, and now I'm forced to deal with the public image of all this, with everything we've built, just because of one bad decision. Don't call me ever again.”

His final message hit you harder than you expected. It was final closure, and even though deep down you knew you had done the right thing, a part of you felt the weight of the words he had just written. You couldn’t deny that things between you and Lando had changed, but the fury in his message made it clear to you that, at that moment, he couldn’t understand your decision.

Max, seeing that you were tense from the answer, put a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “but you had no other choice. You deserve to be happy, and if that means moving on, then that’s what you have to do.”

You turned to him, grateful for his words. His understanding, his calm, was in complete contrast to the intensity of what you had just been through. Deep down in your heart you prayed that Lando wouldn’t do anything but you knew him, you knew how he got when he was angry and you were prepared to read your name and Max’s on the internet the next morning.

87 notes · View notes

lomlhwa · 13 hours ago

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in the stars (c.bg)

pairing: alien!beomgyu x abduction victim!reader

preview: scientists didn't even know aliens existed until like, a week ago. now here you are on one of their ships being taken to their planet to repopulate their species.

tags/warnings: fem reader, monster cocks!beomgyu, two cocks, beomgyu has three eyes idk, tentacles...., his arms have suction cups, marking, oral (m.receiving), aphrodisiac use, knotting (?), breeding, dacryphilia, pet names (baby, my salvation, pretty girl), biting, praise + degradation, bulge kink, overstimulation, kinda subby beomgyu, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampies obvi

trigger warnings: abduction, forced aphrodisiac consumption

wc: 3.2k

song recs for this fic: e.t by katy perry

a/n: my goodness

walking through the forest near your house has always been calming for you. the peaceful quietness of the forest after dark is something you longed for all day. today was no different. a long day at work had you heading for the forest as soon as you got home. you gathered your flashlight, blanket and a sweater and locked your car. leaves crunched under your shoes as you disappeared deeper into the thicket.

the light of day disappeared quickly as you wandered deeper and deeper. by the time you found a spot to lay your blanket, the stars were starting to appear. you placed your fluffy blanket down on the ground softly, laying down to watch more stars litter the sky. this activity was something that had begun to be advised against. the discovery of aliens had made most people scared to be outdoors for long periods of time.

you, however, were in denial about this supposed alien life that had been discovered. it felt like weird timing that you couldn’t put your finger on. therefore until you saw one with your own eyes, you wouldn’t believe anything about the aliens. the stars sparkle in the sky as the sky reaches its darkest state. you ponder on the extraterrestrial life that has finally shown itself. would they ever really invade earth? you wondered how the world would react to this kind of attack.

you shake your head. the aliens aren’t real, there’s no invasion to worry about. the government just wants to make up a distraction for some scandal. you raise your arms to rest them under your head, admiring the beautiful sky. your eyes lock onto a star that seems much brighter than the rest of them. but not in a ‘northern star’ way, but in an unnatural way. you rise and sit cross legged, tilting your head in confusion. it almost seems like it’s getting bigger or, like, approaching you.

you stand up and stare up at the light. you realize that it is, in fact, approaching you. the light gets bigger and bigger until a beam of light appears in a circle on the ground. it seems like the light is searching for something. you stand in place like a deer in headlights before deciding to get out of there. you leave all of your things where they were and start running. your quick movements seem to have alerted the light and it starts chasing after you. you run as fast as you possibly can, your legs working overtime. your foot catches on a branch and you come tumbling down onto the ground.

the light settles onto you, the harsh wind from some kind of aircraft sending leaves and twigs flying. before you know it, your body is being lifted off the ground. you thrash around, trying to escape. before you know it, you’re reaching the source of the bright light. you see some sort of door open before you lose consciousness.

____________________________________

you come to, the lights of a bright, white room blinding you. you squint, adjusting to your surroundings. your eyes struggle with the lights, the room feeling ten times brighter with the harsh fluorescents. your eyes settle on a dark figure in the corner of the room. the figure seems skittish, avoiding your gaze. “hello?” you say, your voice breaking. it feels like you had been screaming, but you have no memory of anything since being lifted into the air.

your eyes adjust to see what looks like a person in the corner. you can see the person fiddling with their hands. “h-hello, human,” he responds. he sounds like he has some weird accent that you can’t place. he wanders closer to you, and you can finally get a better look at him. you know immediately that this is one of the aliens you were so in denial about. his arms up to his elbows are a dark purple and so is his nose and the tips of his ears. it’s a beautiful shade but also very inhuman. he also has a third eye sitting in the middle of his forehead, between his other two eyes. his inner arms up to his shoulders were adorned with small suction cups like an octopus. other than his obviously alien-like features, he looks relatively human. he has a pretty, dark wolf cut and two of his eyes are brown, despite his third one being a bright yellow. he has pretty, pink lips and flushed cheeks. he looks so nervous to be near you, despite being the one who abducted you.

you try and get up out of the chair you’re in and find your legs to be strapped down, along with your wrists. “please, stay calm, don’t fight the restraints,” he speaks again, his eyes darting all over the room. anywhere but you. “why are you doing this? please, let me go. i won’t tell anyone about this,” you plead, worried your life is in the hands of this being. “i’m not g-going to kill you,” he explains. he almost seems more scared than you are. “i need your help.” you furrow your brows, confused. “for what?” you ask, tugging on your restraints again. “my people… they’re going extinct. there are no females left on my planet,” he trails off, his eyes staying glued to the floor. “i chose you to help me with… repopulation.”

your eyes widen so much that you’re worried they might pop out of your head. “repopulation!? no, no, no, i can’t help you with that,” you smile awkwardly, not knowing how to even react to this information. “i’m human and you’re… what are you? and who are you?” you ask, looking him up and down. “i’m beomgyu and i’m from venus. i’m a verenok,” he explains, as if it was nothing to you. as if you would understand. “okay, my point still stands. i’m a human and you’re an alien. how am i supposed to repopulate your planet if we’re of different species’?” you do your best to gesture at yourself, despite beomgyu not even looking in your direction.

“w-we don’t have to be the same species. i just have to… uh…” he trails off and scratches the back of his neck nervously. “you have to what?” you ask, worry filling your tone of voice. “i have to knot you,” he blurts out. you look at him, confused. you had no idea what that meant but you can only assume it’s some sort of mating thing. when he scans your facial expressions, he panics and adds more to his statement. “it’ll feel so good, i promise. i have this pill to give you that will prepare you. it’s an aphrodisiac,” he reaches into the pocket of his pants and holds up a medium sized pink pill. before you can respond, he walks over to you and forces your mouth open. he drops the pill down your throat, followed by a syringe of water that seemingly came from the same pocket.

he looks at you with guilty eyes, seeming to immediately regret his decision. “i’m sorry. i just really, really need your cooperation. i’ll be back in a bit once the pill starts working to see how you feel,” he explains before scurrying away and out the door. you open your mouth to call out to him, but it’s too late. you settle into your spot on the examination table you were currently strapped to. an aphrodisiac? did he seriously just force a sex drug down your throat? all you could really do was wait, either for him to come back or for the meds to kick in.

much to your dismay, the meds kick in long before beomgyu returns. you’re writhing on the table, your whole body burning. you clench your thighs together, desperate for any form of friction. you sweat profusely, your clothes sticking to your body disgustingly. “beomgyuuu,” you call out for him, you body basically begging for the man who had previously promised you sex. you begin to border on crying, your core so desperate to be touched. “gyu, please come back, i know you can hear me. i’ll help you, i promise. please,” you plead, your back arching and relaxing repeatedly.

the door on the other side of the room opens and beomgyu pops his head in. “you’ll help me?” he asks, and you nod immediately. “yes! yes, please beomgyu. i’ll do anything, just please touch me,” you pull at your restraints, trying to get at him. beomgyu reaches into his pocket and suddenly your restraints are released. you’re quick to scramble off the exam table and crawl over to beomgyu who had slightly migrated into the room. you rest on your knees and place your hands in a praying position. “please, please, i need you to fuck me,” you beg. your eyes trail down from his eyes to his crotch that you’re eye level with. “i need you in my mouth, beomgyu, please.” beomgyu looks down at you with a shocked, but lust filled expression. “o-okay. go ahead, human.”

your mouth waters as you pull his pants down. your jaw drops when your faced with two giant, purple cocks. you barely know what to do with yourself at this discovery. you had had an inkling that he would be purple down here, considering the coloring of other parts of his body. “so pretty,” you mumble before connecting your mouth to the cock that sits below the other one. you wrap your hand around the one that isn’t resting in your mouth. beomgyu sighs in relief, his eyes crossing in pleasure. he staggers, his hands connecting to your hair. he strips himself of his shirt, revealing tentacles that sit on his ribcage. they’re long and seem to be able to elongate themselves. they move and wiggle down to your neck, wrapping themselves around and tightening ever so slightly.

the bulge in your throat moved deliciously under his tentacles, his instincts taking over and tightening around your throat more to feel it better. you choke and cough around him, sinking your mouth further down to take more of him. your hand moves swiftly while stroking his other cock, making sure he feels the most pleasure you can offer. you feel some of the suckers on his tentacles attach themselves to your neck. they make a slurping noise when sucking against your skin, leaving dark purple circle marks on your supple skin. you dig your nails into his hips, finding that his legs are purple up to mid-thigh.

you do your best to take the entirety of his length down your throat, but it’s physically impossible. beomgyu whimpers and whines every time you make an effort to take more of him down your throat. “okay, okay, fuck, i don’t think y-you want my cum down your throat,” he moves to push your head away from him and you pull him back. “gyu, please, need it,” you beg, giving the tip of his lower cock kitten licks. you take him back into your mouth and bob your head faster. you use your hand to jerk his other cock at the same speed, your body aching for him to cum for you. “please, please,” you chant, pleading for what you need.

beomgyu’s breath gets caught in his throat as he finally finishes, his cocks releasing cum down your throat and on your face. your whole body shakes, the feeling of him getting off to your pleasure making you feel like an animal. you remove your mouth from him and swallow to the best of your abilities. you lick your hand and do your best to collect the semen from your face and shove it into your mouth. you find that his semen is very different from that of a human man. it’s sweet and kind of tinted purple. you almost feel hungry for more to consume. you look up at beomgyu and find that he’s still painfully hard. “get back on the table,” he demands. the tone of his voice completely shifting.

you scramble to get yourself back to where you had started. beomgyu follows you just as quickly. as soon as you settle down on the examination table, beomgyu hooks his fingers under the waistband of your pants and strips your bottom half. your legs spread on their own, inviting him between your legs. the tentacles from his ribs slither to your core, one of them teasing your hole and the other finding your clit. he leans over you to connect his mouth with yours, kissing you with almost bruising force. he lifts your shirt over your head and discards it somewhere else in the room. he wraps his arms around your waist, the suckers on his arms squishing against you and sucking like his mouth would. you can feel that you’ll end up with hickies all over your body, your body turning a similar shade to beomgyu. “you look prettier like this, my salvation. you’re my color now.”

he presses firmly against you, his arms holding you in place, his cocks brushing your entrance deliciously. he peppers your face and neck with kisses while his tentacles move to wrap around your breasts. they attach and detach from your skin, leaving dark marks in their wake. “you can t-take both, right?” he asks as he moves one hand down to align himself properly. in your delirious haze, you find yourself nodding desperately. you were sweating and whining, your hole begging to be filled. “you’re acting like a bitch in heat, are you sure you’re not one of us?” he chuckles and you can do nothing but buck your hips against him.

he squeezes the tips of both cocks together, doing his best to at least make the initial stretch less unbearable. you’re soaking wet and desperate, so you couldn’t care less how much this was going to sting. beomgyu shoves into you at an agonizingly slow pace, but it makes your brain absolutely go numb. it takes him probably a good couple minutes to fully bottom out at the speed he’s going. when he finally does, there’s a very obvious bulge in your lower stomach. your jaw hung slack as your body desperately tried to adjust. “so big… so good…” you mumble, lifting your head to look down between your legs and admire the way you look spread open. your eyes then trail up to beomgyu’s face and you’re met with the most beautiful sight.

the alien between your legs had his pretty bottom lip caught between his sharp teeth, his own eyes also admiring the way he disappeared into you. you could tell he was struggling to keep his eyes open, the pleasure overtaking him. his cheeks flushed a dark pink, seeming to be in disbelief that he had actually managed to get inside his human captive. “fuck, baby, you’re sucking me in like a good girl. i knew you’d be the perfect candidate,” he brushes a hand over the bulge in your stomach before using his arm to hold himself up over you. he runs his purple tongue over his fanged teeth, before scanning your body.

“need… please move,” you plead, clenching and unclenching around him repeatedly. finally, he draws his hips back, before slamming into you. you cry out immediately, the feeling being such an intense mix of pain and pleasure that your nerves have no idea how to react. you feel like your whole body is on fire, the aphrodisiac working its magic to make your body desperate for more despite being filled with two cocks. you grab him by the nape of his neck and connect your mouths, desperate for as much contact as possible. he wraps his arms around you again, placing them meticulously so that he fills the empty space on your torso with more dark purple and blue marks.

he thrusts into you with so little mercy or care for your human state. he folds you in half, connecting his suckers to the backs of your thighs to keep you in place. his tentacles slither away from your chest and down to your core. one connects a sucker to your clit and the other forces its way into your hole along with his cocks. “gyu, fuck, need to cum,” your eyes burn with tears as your orgasm comes hurdling towards you like a train. “oh, my perfect salvation,” he mumbles against your mouth. “you can cum, but i’m not gonna stop. have to breed you,” he runs his tongue over your bottom lip as he finishes speaking before kissing you once again. your orgasm crashes over you and your whole body trembles in his hold. he holds you down tighter, your body beginning to fight against him from overstimulation.

“oh, don’t fight it, pretty girl. you know you want more. you’re practically bursting at the seams,” he taunts you. he removes his mouth from yours before connecting it to your jugular. your legs shake and try desperately to close, but his strength is much more than yours. he kisses the side of your neck before sinking his teeth into a seemingly specific part of your neck. “mine, mine, mine, all mine,” he mutters. his possessiveness over you has you inching closer and closer to a second oragsm. he can feel you tensing again, and it’s perfect timing. “gonna knot you this time, baby. it’s gonna feel a little weird, but it’ll ensure that you’re impregnated.”

you nod despite the fact that none of his words had actually registered in your brain. the tentacle that had been wriggling around inside you pulled itself out. as you came, you felt his cocks get impossibly bigger inside you. as the bases of his cocks swell and plug your hole, his whole demeanor changes. his previously mostly dominant behavior completely. he unsticks his arms from your legs and lets them rest on his hips. he leans on his elbows next to your head and strokes your hair. he looks at you like he’s never loved anyone more than you. “you’re perfect. i couldn’t have picked someone better, my salvation.” he swells inside you more and more, and you feel like you’re going to explode.

finally, you feel him filling you to the brim with his cum, and you can almost feel that he’s filling you directly in your womb. the experience has you feeling drunk. your eyes cross and you drink in the feeling of him finally filling you up. your body is exhausted and it’s almost like his knot was the antidote for the aphrodisiac you had taken. he slowly pulls out of you, a glob of cum following him. he pants, wiping his forehead with his forearm. “okay, i’m gonna go get you some clothes and a towel, and then we begin our journey back to venus.”

you raise your hand to your neck, feeling the mark of his teeth in your skin. your brain comes to an understanding that you are, in fact, his. you don’t mind all too much. “i’m sorry, i’ve never knotted anyone before. it’s a sacred practice that we’ve now shared,” beomgyu explains as he cleans you up and helps you put on robes similar to his. “um, we are mates forever now though.” you shrug, hopping down from the table. “that’s okay. i like you,” you smile and wander around the room. “i’m y/n by the way, since you never asked for my name.” you walk back over to him and admire his stature next to you.

“ready to go home?” he asks you, and you nod. “let’s go home.”

#lomlhwa #txt #tomorrow x together #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #txt smut #tomorrow x together smut #beomgyu smut #choi beomgyu smut

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lila-lou · 13 hours ago

Text

✨High School Sweetheart - Pt 2✨

Summary: You come face-to-face with a ghost from your past—Dean Winchester. Five years after he vanished from your life without a word, and now he´s here. But neither you nor he are teenagers anymore.

-Listen to "Chance with you"-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, ANGST, Fluff, poor fucking dean

Word Count: 6231

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

It barely took ten minutes of sitting beside Dean in the Impala before Sam, watching his brother’s slightly dazed expression, finally broke the silence. Sam’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he noticed the faint blush still lingering on Dean’s cheeks, his older brother biting his lip, lost somewhere deep in thought, the edges of a grin tugging at his mouth.

“Still really pretty, huh?”, Sam mumbled, a slight smirk pulling at his own lips.

Dean blinked, as if snapped out of a daydream, glancing at Sam with a mixture of irritation and sheepishness. “Shut up, Sammy”, he muttered, though the flush on his face deepened as he tried to focus back on the road.

But Sam wasn’t about to let it go that easily. “Oh, come on, Dean. The look on your face says it all. You’re practically glowing”. He leaned back in his seat, watching his brother with a look that was both curious and amused. “I mean, I knew she was special, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this”.

Dean let out a breath, shaking his head, though he couldn’t hide the small smile still playing at his lips. “Yeah, well…”. He trailed off, running a hand over the steering wheel as if it could ground him, as if the familiar leather beneath his fingers could keep him from spiraling into the memories of you. “She’s… I don’t know, Sammy. She’s always been different”.

Sam nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. “She got to you, huh? Even back then”.

Dean let out a rough chuckle, rolling his eyes at Sam’s all-too-knowing expression, but he couldn’t shake the warmth spreading in his chest, even if he tried to hide it behind his usual bravado.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all mushy on me”, he shot back, giving Sam a light punch on the arm. “Just ‘cause I’ve got a soft spot doesn’t mean you need to turn into Dr. Phil over here”.

Sam grinned, rubbing his arm dramatically. “Hey, I’m just saying, it’s kinda nice to see you like this. Kinda reminds me you’re human after all”.

Dean scoffed, his cheeks darkening a bit more as he focused on the road, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Alright, smartass. Keep it up, and I’ll throw you out of this car faster than you can say ‘college boy’”.

But Sam wasn’t about to let up, not when his brother was in rare form, and he leaned back with a smirk. “Right. Go ahead, toss me out. Maybe I’ll find my way back to that little bookstore she’s got. Tell her all about how you kept looking at that card she gave you when you thought I wasn’t looking”.

Dean’s head whipped toward Sam, his expression caught between shock and embarrassment, and he quickly cleared his throat, shifting in his seat as he tried to play it cool. “Pfft, the card? Didn’t even realize I had it”. He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though his fingers instinctively brushed against the pocket of his jacket, where he’d tucked it safely away.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Right. Like you’re not gonna call her first chance you get”.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to shake off the knowing look Sam was throwing his way. “I’ve got bigger things to worry about than a card, Sammy”, he muttered, eyes fixed on the road.

Sam smirked, crossing his arms as he settled back in his seat. “Uh-huh. Bigger things like… calling her? Or just figuring out how you’re gonna manage to stay away?”.

Dean shot him a quick glare. “You know, you’re real mouthy for someone who’s got a free ride”.

But Sam wasn’t letting up. “Look, Dean, all I’m saying is… we’re still in town, at least until we figure out what’s going on with this case. Not like you’d be going out of your way”. He raised his eyebrows, his tone both teasing and genuine. “Maybe it’s a sign, you know?“.

Dean scoffed again, rolling his eyes as he tried to keep his focus on the road ahead, though the twitch of a grin betrayed him. “A sign? Really? What’s next, Sammy, you pulling tarot cards out of the glove box?”.

Sam shrugged, a smirk still lingering on his face. “I don’t know, Dean. You’ve always been the one to follow your instincts. And I think we both know this isn’t just another hunt”.

Dean let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “You really are going for that Dr. Phil gig, aren’t you?”. But the usual bite in his tone wasn’t there. “Look, it’s not like I’m dying to make her life any more complicated than it needs to be. You saw her—she’s doing fine. Better than fine, actually. So, maybe it’s better if we just leave her out of all this”.

“Right, sure”, Sam replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because you looked real ‘fine’ back there when you were about to drive off again. Totally ready to let her go”.

Dean shot him a glare, but it didn’t have much heat behind it. “Just because I want her to be okay doesn’t mean I need to go barging back into her life, alright? She’s got her shop, her routine. She deserves someone… better. Not someone who has to leave town at a moment’s notice”.

Sam leaned forward, his expression softening, but his eyes remained steady on his brother. “Or maybe she deserves the truth. You know, the Dean who sticks around long enough to let her decide for herself if she wants you in her life”.

Dean clenched his jaw, trying to shrug off Sam’s words, but something about them hit too close to home. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, but his grip on the wheel tightened, his shoulders tense. “I don’t know, man”, he murmured, voice softer now, almost hesitant. “I left her once. Not exactly the best track record”.

“And yet, she still gave you her number, didn’t she?”, Sam countered, his voice gentler now, but unyielding. “Seems like she’s already made part of that decision. Maybe all you have to do is follow through”.

Dean stayed silent, his gaze distant as he considered Sam’s words. The road stretched out ahead of them, but the weight of what Sam was saying hung thick in the air. He knew his brother was right—that he’d only be lying to himself if he tried to brush this off as a coincidence or some passing feeling.

Finally, he let out a low chuckle, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “You know, you’re getting a little too wise for your own good, college boy”.

Sam shrugged, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Just looking out for you, big brother”.

-Flashback-

It was a crisp autumn afternoon, a few days into the new school year, and Sam had already noticed the way Dean’s gaze lingered on you whenever you crossed paths in the hall. Dean would lean against his locker or sit on the edge of a bench outside, looking casual, pretending he was just minding his own business. But Sam saw the way his brother’s eyes tracked your every move, the subtle shift in his posture whenever you were near, as if he was debating making a move but could never quite bring himself to.

Sam knew Dean well enough to know his brother wasn’t one to hold back, not usually. Dean had always been confident, sometimes cocky, and had no trouble talking to girls when he wanted to. But with you, it was different. Sam saw something softer in the way Dean looked at you—a rare uncertainty, almost like he was afraid to ruin something he hadn’t even started yet.

So Sam, always the quiet observer, decided to give his brother a little nudge. With a smirk, he took matters into his own hands, slipping a note into each of your bags. He kept it simple, setting up a “chance meeting” during lunch.

Neither of you ever found out who had orchestrated it, and Sam never breathed a word about it afterward, but he remembered watching from a distance as it all played out.

The lunch bell rang, and you wandered over to the spot Sam had mentioned in the note—an empty table under a big oak tree at the far edge of the school grounds. As you approached, your gaze landed on Dean, already sitting there, idly picking at the sandwich in front of him. When he looked up and saw you, a flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a crooked grin, though you could see a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Oh, hey”, he said, a bit too casually, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness you hadn’t expected. “Didn’t think anyone else knew about this spot”.

You smiled, feeling the same odd flutter in your chest that had been there since the first time you’d noticed him in the halls. “Yeah, me neither”, you replied, sitting down across from him. Your hands fidgeted as you unwrapped your sandwich, and you risked a glance up, catching his eyes on you.

The two of you settled into a quiet, awkward rhythm, stealing glances and giving each other shy smiles. It was strange—usually, you could hold a conversation with anyone, but something about him, about this moment, left you a little breathless, as if words would somehow ruin it. So instead, you both sat there, eating in silence, lost in the simplicity of each other’s presence.

After a few bites, Dean cleared his throat, his voice low and a little rough. “So… you’re (Y/N), right?”.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your cheeks heated up as he said your name. “Yeah. And you’re Dean?”.

He chuckled softly, nodding. “Yeah. Dean Winchester”.

Silence settled between you again, but this time it was comfortable, both of you just taking in each other’s presence. The occasional breeze rustled the leaves overhead, casting dappled shadows across the table, and the scent of autumn filled the air—fresh, crisp, with a hint of warmth from the fading afternoon sun.

Every so often, your eyes would meet, and you’d exchange a shy smile, like you were both trying to figure out why this moment felt so special. For a while, neither of you felt the need to say anything. You just sat there, grinning like two kids with a secret, your sandwiches forgotten.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of glances and soft smiles, Dean let out a breath, shaking his head with a small, almost bashful smile. “So… you come here often?”, he asked, his tone teasing, though there was a hint of sincerity underneath.

You laughed, the sound breaking the quiet around you. “Guess I do now”, you replied, meeting his eyes with a smile.

And in that moment, something unspoken passed between you—a silent understanding that you both felt something real, something new.

As the lunch bell rang again, neither of you wanted to leave, but you both stood, reluctantly gathering your things. Dean gave you one last look, his gaze warm, a quiet promise lingering there. You exchanged a small wave, parting with barely a handful of words spoken, but it didn’t matter. The connection was there, something simple and pure that you’d remember for years to come.

And as you walked back to class, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed—that, somehow, in that quiet moment under the old oak tree, you’d found someone who might just mean something.

-End of the flashback-

The memory faded, but a faint smile lingered on Dean’s face as he drove, lost in thought, his fingers still brushing the edge of your card in his pocket once more. That first lunch under the oak tree—so simple, barely a conversation at all, really. But it was one of those memories that had stuck with him all these years. He hadn’t known then how much it would mean to him, how that day would be the start of something he’d never really shake. He could still picture the way you’d smiled at him, shy but genuine, the way your laughter had slipped out, breaking the quiet like sunlight streaming through a crack in the clouds.

“You’re remembering it, aren’t you?”, Sam asked, his voice quiet, softer now, like he knew he was treading on something sacred.

Dean blinked, pulled back to the present, his hand dropping from his pocket as he cleared his throat. “What are you talking about?”, he muttered, but his face betrayed him, that faint, far-off look still in his eyes.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, Dean. Your first meeting. I know you remember it as well as I do. You were looking at her like she was something you’d been searching for”.

Dean rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite to it. “Alright, Nostradamus, dial it down a notch”. He hesitated, glancing at his brother, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “Wait… you were watching?”.

Sam shrugged, feigning innocence but failing miserably. “Maybe. I mean, someone had to play matchmaker. You weren’t exactly making any moves on your own”.

Dean’s jaw dropped slightly, a look of realization dawning over him as he put the pieces together. “Wait a minute. That note… You’re telling me you set that up?”.

Sam grinned, unapologetic, as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “What can I say? I knew you needed a little push”.

Dean shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and grudging appreciation crossing his face. “You were fifteen, Sam. Already sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong”.

Sam just laughed. “Hey, don’t knock it. Without me, you two would probably still be stealing glances from across the hallway”.

Dean rolled his eyes, a low chuckle slipping out despite himself. “Guess I owe you one, then”, he muttered, his voice a little softer, his gaze drifting back to the road. The thought of that quiet lunch, the way you’d both sat there smiling like idiots, felt as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.

He fell silent, the weight of the past settling over him again, that strange mix of regret and nostalgia twisting in his chest. Sam watched him for a moment, his expression softening, sensing his brother’s quiet struggle.

“You know”, Sam said, his voice gentle, “maybe this is your chance, Dean. To do things differently. You’ve got the card. You’re still here. It’s not like you’re running out of reasons to reach out to her”.

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened, his jaw working as he wrestled with the decision that had been simmering under the surface since they’d left the bar. The logic was simple enough, and he knew Sam was right. But the thought of opening that door again, of letting you back in, was equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

After a long stretch of silence, Dean let out a breath, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe”, he said quietly, his tone carrying a touch of hope he didn’t often let himself feel.

The evening settled around the small, dimly lit motel room, the hum of traffic from the nearby road blending with the low rumble of the TV in the background. Sam was already fast asleep, sprawled across one of the twin beds, his breaths steady and even. But Dean lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting back to you—back to those lunch breaks you’d shared, the quiet moments that had managed to etch themselves so deeply into his mind that they felt like yesterday.

-Flashback-

It had been a week since that first lunch together under the oak tree, and somehow, it had become an unspoken routine. Every day, you’d find him waiting for you in the same spot, and each time you’d sit across from him, settling into the easy rhythm that had formed between you. Each day, it was a little less awkward, the smiles a little brighter, the silences a little more comfortable. And each day, Dean felt something in him relax, as if the weight he carried had lightened, if only for those few minutes with you.

On this particular day, you’d shown up with two hot chocolates, handing him one with a shy smile. He took it, surprised but grateful, the warmth of the cup seeping into his cold hands.

“I thought you might need it”, you said, your voice soft, almost teasing as you sat across from him, watching his reaction.

Dean took a long sip, his eyes twinkling with a familiar mischief as he set the cup down, looking at you over the rim. “You know, you keep bringing me stuff, and people might start thinking we’re a thing”, he teased, his voice carrying that trademark Dean charm, but with a warmth you hadn’t quite heard before.

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as you pulled your own cup closer. “Oh, please. They probably already think that”. You tried to keep your voice light, but there was an unmistakable blush creeping up your cheeks, which only seemed to amuse him more.

“Guess I’ll just have to get used to all the rumors then, huh?”, he replied, a faint blush of his own coloring his cheeks, though he played it off with a casual shrug. “Could be worse. There’s no one else I’d rather get a hot chocolate from”.

You bit your lip, feeling your heart stutter in your chest as you looked at him, his grin still lingering, his gaze holding steady on you. Dean had this way about him, this mix of cockiness and mystery that set him apart from everyone else. He was older, and though you didn’t know much about his life, there was something in his eyes—something quiet, something that hinted at secrets, like he’d lived more than anyone you’d ever met.

And somehow, all of it—his smirk, his laugh, that intense, guarded gaze—it made you feel giddy and nervous all at once, like you were balancing on the edge of something you couldn’t quite name.

You cleared your throat, trying to shake the feeling, but your voice still came out softer, a little breathless. “Well, guess I’ll just have to keep up the hot chocolate supply then, huh?”.

Dean could feel his own heartbeat pick up, thudding against his ribcage as he looked at you, but he kept his expression casual. He wasn’t about to let on that just sitting here, watching you smile and laugh, was enough to make him feel… well, a little unsteady. This wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan. He was just here for a few weeks, maybe less, keeping his head down, blending in, not getting too attached. And yet, here he was, heartbeat racing, feeling like he was balancing on the edge of something he hadn’t prepared for.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep showing up, then”, he replied, his voice light, though there was an unmistakable warmth in his eyes as he looked at you. “I mean, can’t say no to free hot chocolate”.

You laughed, shaking your head, and the sound sent a warmth through him he couldn’t quite explain. He glanced down at the cup in his hands, trying to hide the slight blush creeping up his neck, but he couldn’t resist looking back up at you, his gaze softening despite himself.

“Not just here for the hot chocolate, though”, he added, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He cleared his throat, trying to play it off with a shrug, but he knew he’d already given himself away. “I mean, the company’s not too bad either”.

Your cheeks flushed more, and you bit your lip, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you looked down, trying to hide your own reaction. That small gesture, that shy, quiet smile—it made Dean’s chest tighten, and for a moment, he let himself just watch you, forgetting the rules he’d set for himself.

In those simple lunch breaks, in the way you’d look at him with such unfiltered warmth and kindness, Dean had found something he hadn’t expected: a chance to feel… normal. He hadn’t thought that was even possible anymore. Not with the life he led, not with the weight of everything he knew he’d have to leave behind.

But with you, it was different. You made him want things he’d never thought he could have—a life that wasn’t always on the road, days filled with easy moments and quiet laughter instead of danger and uncertainty. And that scared him, more than he’d admit. Because he knew he wasn’t supposed to want this, wasn’t supposed to get attached. But here he was, feeling his pulse race every time you so much as looked at him.

You glanced up, catching his gaze, and for a second, the two of you just held each other’s stare, the air thick with something unspoken, something fragile but real.

-End of the flashback-

The memory faded, but the feeling lingered, a quiet ache settling in Dean’s chest as he lay in the dark, staring at the motel ceiling. He let out a long breath, his hand rubbing over his face, trying to scrub away the emotions that had crept up on him, emotions he’d buried for so long he’d almost convinced himself they were gone.

But being back in town, seeing you again, had peeled back every layer he’d built to keep those memories at bay. He could still see you as clearly as if no time had passed, that shy smile tugging at the corner of your lips, your gaze soft and sincere in a way that had always made him feel like he was something more than the kid his dad had dragged from town to town, always moving, never staying. And those lunches—just a few stolen moments under that oak tree—had been the closest thing he’d ever had to a taste of normal. They’d left him wanting a life he’d known he could never keep.

Dean let out a low, humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Should’ve known better”, he muttered to himself, voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the room. But there was no denying it: he’d never really stopped wanting that life with you.

He rolled onto his side, trying to settle into sleep, but his hand drifted unconsciously to the pocket of his jacket, where the small card you’d given him rested, a reminder of the day’s events, of the quiet invitation you’d made him.

For a moment, he debated it, running a thumb over the edge of the card, letting the idea linger. But he knew the risks, the life he’d bring crashing down into yours, the way his path never seemed to lead anywhere that didn’t end in heartbreak or goodbye. He didn’t know if he could pull you into that world, not after how hard he’d tried to keep you away from it back then.

But he also knew that maybe, just maybe, he couldn’t keep himself away any longer.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes, the faintest smile tugging at his lips as he whispered to himself, “Guess we’ll see”, before finally drifting into a restless sleep, the image of you still lingering in his mind like a quiet promise.

-Flashback-

Days later, on a quiet night, the kind of evening that felt wrapped in stillness, only broken by the rustle of leaves in the soft breeze and the occasional bark from your dog as he sniffed at everything in sight. You hadn’t expected to see anyone in the park this late, let alone Dean Winchester, slumped on a bench, face bloodied, bruised, and staring into the distance like he was barely holding himself together.

Your heart dropped, the sight of him so raw and shocking that for a moment, you thought you were imagining it. His clothes were torn and stained, dark patches of blood spreading across his shirt and jacket, and his arm was cradled awkwardly, held close to his side in a way that made you realize something was seriously wrong.

He looked up, eyes widening slightly as he registered you standing there, but his expression quickly turned guarded, his gaze flickering away as if he could somehow hide the damage from you by simply looking somewhere else.

“Dean… what happened?”, you whispered, approaching him slowly, the weight of concern heavy in your chest. You felt your dog pull at his leash, sensing your worry, but you held him back, focused on the broken figure in front of you.

Dean forced a smirk, though it came out more like a grimace, his face paling with the effort. “You know, just a rough night”, he muttered, trying to sound casual, like he was brushing off a scraped knee rather than the blood seeping through his shirt. “Thought I’d get in a little brawl. Keeps things interesting”.

You frowned, not buying his attempt at humor for a second. His arm was cradled protectively, and the tension in his face told you he was barely holding it together. He looked exhausted, broken in a way that went beyond the physical injuries, as though something much deeper had been hurt tonight.

“Dean, you’re hurt”. You knelt down beside him, reaching out carefully, but he flinched, pulling back instinctively before realizing it was just you. His defenses dropped, just for a moment, as he looked at you with something raw, almost vulnerable, in his eyes.

He let out a heavy sigh, glancing down at the blood staining his hands. “It’s… it’s nothing. Got into a fight, bit off more than I could chew. Happens”. His voice was rough, edged with the kind of pain he’d clearly been trying to ignore, but there was something else there too—a flicker of shame, as though he didn’t want you to see him like this.

But you could see the weight he was carrying, and the thought of him out here, alone and hurt, made your heart ache. “Come on, we need to get you to a hospital”, you insisted, your voice gentle but firm, reaching out again, this time more determined.

Dean shook his head, a grimace of pain tightening his features. “Can’t”, he said, his voice low. “Too many questions. I’ll… I’ll figure it out”. He tried to push himself up, only to falter, his breath catching as he slumped back onto the bench.

“Dean…”. You felt a surge of frustration and worry, torn between wanting to respect his stubborn independence and the overwhelming need to help him. “If you’re not going to the hospital, then at least let me help. My place isn’t far from here. I’ve got first aid stuff, and… you can clean up. Please”.

He looked at you, and for a moment, he seemed to consider it, his resolve wavering. Finally, he nodded, letting out a breath that seemed to carry the weight of his pride with it. “Alright. Just… just don’t tell anyone, yeah? I don’t need anyone knowing I can’t handle a stupid fight”.

You nodded, a soft smile breaking through your worry. “I won’t say a word”.

With a careful hand, you helped him stand, his weight leaning against you as he took a shaky breath. The walk back was slow, every step a reminder of just how much he’d been trying to mask his pain, but he didn’t complain, didn’t try to pull away.

As you reached your front door, you turned to Dean, pressing a finger to your lips and whispering, “We’ve got to be quiet. My parents are asleep”. He nodded, gritting his teeth against the pain as you helped him navigate the steps, each creak of the floorboards feeling impossibly loud in the stillness of the night. Your dog trotted quietly behind, sensing the need for calm as you led Dean through the dimly lit hallway, past closed doors, and up to your room.

You cracked your bedroom door open and guided him inside, holding your breath as he took in his surroundings. It was a simple room, but every inch of it was distinctly yours—a world apart from the barren motel rooms and grim hunting spots he’d known all his life. Posters lined the walls, a mix of bands and books you loved, and there was a soft, warm glow from the string lights draped along the headboard of your bed. The bedspread was a gentle shade of blue, soft and clean, with a few cozy throw pillows tucked neatly on top. A bookshelf stood by the window, crammed with novels and notebooks, a few favorite titles spilling onto the floor in stacks.

Dean’s eyes widened slightly as he took it all in, his gaze wandering over the posters, the string lights, the soft details. He looked almost out of place, like he’d stumbled into another world—a place where the harshness of his life didn’t belong. He shifted his weight awkwardly, cradling his injured arm, and you could see a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes as he took in the details of your room, details that, to him, seemed to capture pieces of you he hadn’t known yet.

“Nice place”, he muttered, trying to keep his tone light, but you could tell he was genuinely taken aback. It was like he was seeing a different side of the world—one he hadn’t been allowed to experience.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile, whispering, “Thanks”. You motioned for him to sit on the edge of your bed as you quietly opened a drawer, pulling out the first-aid kit and some supplies.

He lowered himself onto the bed slowly, grimacing as he tried to keep his sprained arm steady. The mattress sank slightly under his weight, soft in a way that made him blink in surprise. Everything in your room seemed to have a softness to it—the kind of comfort he wasn’t used to but found himself instinctively leaning into.

Dean watched as you moved around your room with quiet familiarity, pulling out bandages, antiseptic, and a towel. You flicked on the lamp by your bedside, casting a warm glow that softened the edges of the room, and as you sat beside him, his gaze lingered on you, a hint of awe in his eyes.

“Feels… nice in here”, he murmured, almost like he was embarrassed to admit it.

You settled beside him on the bed, the first-aid kit open between you as you prepared a damp cloth, dipping it into a bowl of warm water you’d brought up from the bathroom. Every movement was gentle, careful, your focus fully on him as you began to dab away the dried blood from his face, wiping it away in soft strokes.

Dean watched you, his eyes tracing your expression as you worked. He seemed almost hesitant, like he didn’t quite believe he deserved this kind of care. There was a rawness in his gaze, a hint of vulnerability that made your heart ache as you gently brushed a thumb over his cheek, wiping away a streak of dried blood.

“Does it hurt?”, you asked softly, looking up at him, your eyes filled with quiet concern.

He shook his head, though you knew he was lying. “Not much”, he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze fixed on you as if he was trying to memorize every detail. “Guess I’m tougher than I look”.

You gave him a small smile, continuing your work with gentle hands. “I don’t doubt it”, you murmured. “But even tough guys need someone to patch them up sometimes”. Your voice was tender, carrying a softness that felt like a balm on wounds that went deeper than the bruises and cuts on his face.

Dean’s gaze softened, a flicker of something vulnerable slipping through the usual guardedness he wore like armor. He didn’t say anything, just watched as you worked, his eyes following the movement of your hands, the way you handled him with such care, as if he were something fragile.

As you moved closer to clean a cut near his eyebrow, your faces were just inches apart, and you could feel his breath, slow and steady, warm against your skin. He was still, so still that you could almost hear his heartbeat, the air thickening between you as he held your gaze, his expression open in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

“You’re always this soft?”, he asked, his voice so low it was almost a murmur, his eyes never leaving yours.

You felt your cheeks warm, but you didn’t look away. “Only for people who deserve it”, you replied, your voice equally quiet, the words carrying a meaning that hung in the air between you, heavy and unspoken.

Dean’s jaw tightened slightly, his gaze flickering downward as if he didn’t believe he was worthy of that softness, of that quiet care you were offering him so freely. He swallowed, a faint smirk pulling at his lips as he tried to brush it off. “Not sure I fall into that category, sweetheart”, he muttered, his voice laced with a self-deprecating humor that barely hid the vulnerability underneath.

You rolled your eyes at his words, but there was a smile tugging at your lips, soft and genuine. “Well, you don’t get to decide that”, you murmured, still focused on the cut above his brow, carefully dabbing at it as though he might break under too much pressure.

Dean’s smirk faded, replaced by something softer, almost disbelieving, as he looked at you. “Guess not”, he whispered, his tone lacking its usual bite, as if he was letting himself accept your care, even if just for a few moments.

You finished tending to his cuts and bruises, then sat back a little, finally taking in the full picture—Dean Winchester, bruised and broken, but with that familiar, guarded warmth in his eyes, one that was aimed solely at you. Despite his injuries, he managed a small, crooked grin that sent your heart racing all over again. You didn’t realize it then, but this was a moment he’d remember, the memory of your touch lingering with him like a promise.

-End of the flashback-

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts drifting back to Dean—the boy he’d been, the man he’d become. So much time had passed, and yet, seeing him again felt like slipping into something familiar, like picking up a story that had been left unfinished.

He’d stood in front of you, years later, carrying the weight of battles fought and scars earned, a look in his eyes that told you he’d seen more than he’d ever wanted to. Yet somehow, despite the rough edges time had given him, there was something unmistakable in his gaze, something that brought you right back to those early days—the same quiet warmth, that flicker of mischief, that vulnerability he tried so hard to hide.

It was almost surreal, how he looked so much older, and yet, to you, he was still somehow that eighteen-year-old boy who’d made you feel like the center of his world in those stolen moments.

You rolled onto your side, pulling the covers closer as your heart beat faster, memories rushing back to fill the silence of your bedroom. You thought of how he’d looked at you back then, like he was trying to memorize you, and how he’d looked at you now, like he couldn’t believe you were real. And in that moment, you felt the weight of those lost years, the ache of missed moments and the wonder of seeing him again, as if fate had brought him back to you.

But even now, as a grown man, standing in front of you with a lifetime of stories written on his face, he still looked at you with that same spark, that same fondness. It was as if, in his eyes, you hadn’t changed at all.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 Right now, early-seasons-dean gives me all the vibes... I just.. CAN´T. HELP

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#jensen ackles #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #deanwinchtser #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural

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morbethgames · 17 hours ago

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Halloween Special, Current Projects, New Patreon Content

I am so sorry about the radio silence as of late. Between the stuff earlier this week (yes, that stuff), dealing with deaths of people, and university; I've been very busy and mentally drained. However, the good news is, you can play the mini game of The Bureau, "Witchy Woman" right now! The link is at the bottom of this post! Eventually I'll integrate it into the main game, or put it out as potential free DLC or something, but for now there are no stats and it's not tied to choices from the base game.

Tonight is a special case. The MCT has been called in as a favor after finishing up our most recent case. A friend of Kris's reached out, and the local P.D. has let the MCT take the lead on this one. A house party in the beginning of October up in Maine has turned sour. A party-goer has been reported deceased.

We just finished a job, but in this line of work, there's always another case to solve. So here I am, approaching the residence with my team, about to find out exactly what happened on this cold, damp night.

Because it's not part of a bigger game or story, and the only pacing I had to worry about was that of the investigation, this is much more freeflow than other investigations in the main story. Go back and forth between the crime scene, the perimeter of the house, interrogations, and more! The more you discover evidence, the more new options will unlock in conversations, and you have an evidence log in the stats section that updates every time you find out something relevant to the case.

I'm only promoting this now, even though it's been done for a couple of weeks, because it was part of a Jam and I didn't think it would be fair if I got votes from a community built over a few years when others in the Jam would not have had that same benefit. I wanted it to be an even playing field, even if it meant holding out for a bit. So, I apologize for making you all wait.

There are still things I'd like to do for this game, things I'll end up adding, but it is at the very least ready to play. It's 40k words, so have at it!

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

Right, next up, something I'd like to announce. I'm working on a serialized fiction that I'm (hopefully) planning to turn into a book. The first 3 chapters are going to be posted for free, both here on my blog and on my Patreon, though not quite yet. Chapters after that will be released on Patreon for the people who pay the $5 tier.

I'll be honest, it has been extremely cathartic to go from writing an IF where the chapters are all pretty much the length of a book themselves, to writing an actual book where a chapter is about 4k words. It's a very nice breath of fresh air, and it by no means, entails that I will stop working on Bureau. In fact, it may even help speed up rate of production, funnily enough. Having something to keep my mind turning while having writer's block about a scene in the IF will help me constantly generate ideas, and that's really nice to think about.

A small college town is rocked by a horrific murder. In wake of the events, a couple of friends begin investigating this personal tragedy, determined to get to the bottom of what happened at the Scribe City college. The lesson is quickly thrust upon them that loss leads to pain, but pain is temporary, and loss can be forever. So what comes after the pain? They need to explore that journey together, and in the process, navigate the complicated things feelings that have started to bloom.

The book (serialized fiction for now) , called Love In Stasis, is going to be a 'WLW romance small town college murder mystery'. You will explore the relationships that these characters have and continue to form, and just how messy things get when tragedy sparks love. I have almost 25k words done for it, about six and a half chapters, and I'm going to try to get 50k words done with it by the end of the month. A writing challenge that's totally not tied to the name of any organizations.

If this works out, I could reward patrons with static fiction while not having to worry about providing everyone with constant things tied to the IF itself, and I could work on The Bureau at a pace I'm very comfortable with.

I'm still learning as a writer. I'm still learning new things I like, and how I like to produce content. All I know is that I like producing art in the form of writing, and I most certainly will not stop doing that anytime soon, and now that the Halloween Special is done, I will be getting back to the base game.

Which will start with a complete recoding of the gender variables. I've already started on that process, so no more multiple versions of each chapter. One version. One set of gender variables. Much more condensed coding and script. So, people out there who said that wasn't going to change, I just have to say what I'd said all along. My coding was indeed bad. However I will also say something else I've said all along. I do take criticism.

That being said I'm never using multi-replace and you can't make me. I like being able to read what I'm writing.

More to come in the near future.

Stay Brilliant,

-Vi

https://cogdemos.ink/play/viisbae/the-bureau-halloween-special-witchy-woman

Patreon Link

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thehollowwriter · 16 hours ago

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Warnings: Murder, implied mutilation, handling and disposal of a body, general crimes ansbdnddj Word count: 1258

Summary: When the lights at the edge of the kelp forest start flashing, Silas knows he has a job to do. (Aka I introduce everyone to Silas' other job)

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤️)

Lights

There were few times Silas Clearcove felt the need to be discreet on his own property. In a sprawling kelp forest, hours away from other signs of civilisation, there was little need to worry about prying eyes.

When those familiar flashes of light, three short signals, went off in the far distance, though... it was better to be safe than sorry.

Every night at 10:30 like clockwork, Silas would gaze out across his land at a very specific place, waiting. When nothing happened, which was often the case, he'd turn and get ready for bed.

Tonight had been no different. Silas had fixed his eyes upon that lonely land in the distance, tapping his claws against his side, until he saw those little flashes.

Silas drifted out of the rocky cavern he called home and turned away from the stone path that stretched from his garden into the quiet forest.

With every flick of his tail, the light of the lanterns faded to give way to darkness. It was so dark, most others couldn't see an inch in front of their face.

Where he was going, there were no lanterns, no markers to guide his way. All there was to see was an endless stretch of sand and rock and kelp in every direction.

That was fine. Troubled as his memory was st time, Silas knew very well where he was going.

His wards, carefully crafted runes and spells encircling the entirety of his property, pulsed gently to inform him of the stranger on the edge of the property.

Silas saw little use in the lights used to signal him since the powerful magic protecting his home would let him know all he needed, but, well, they insisted.

Silas came to a stop just short of the edge of the forest of kelp. There, in front of him, were a pair of piercing yellow eyes shining in the dark.

The other merfolk, a gulper eel, didn't move an inch further from where they floated. They wouldn't dare. Not without a lantern, or without Silas' permission. The wards did not take kindly to strangers, and they knew it well.

Silas tilted his head to the side at the eel and silently held out his hand, across the boundary of his property.

The other narrowed their eyes before handing over a black bag that, until now, had blended perfectly into the dark.

It was large, bigger than Silas himself, and heavy. It was long, too, and Silas couldn't help but sigh at the thought of dragging it all the way back from whence he came.

"Becareful with that," the eel rasped. "This one didn't have a very pleasant time. Things got... messy."

They grinned, a sick and twisted pulling of the lips that showed of rows of gleaming, sharp pearly whites.

Silas didn't react. He simply bowed his head in a silent goodbye to his deliveryman, then began the swim towards the centre of his kelp forest.

He didn't go home, though. He swam past the entrance and around the side, through the garden that sprawled on behind it, even bigger than in the front.

Silas swam through the seagrass and coral and kelp and sargassum until he came to a cave, not unlike the one that housed his abattoir.

Silas heaved the bag onto a table carved from the rock, the decades old injury in his tail crying out in pain and sending shock waves to the rest of his body.

He took in a sharp breath and waited for the pain to subside, then opened the bag, pulling down the zipper and staring down down at his newest project.

Glassy, lifeless eyes, stared back at him from a face that barely resembled a person. The rest of the poor soul didn't far much better, gashes and bruises marring deathly pale skin like a blight.

Silas didn't ponder what this one did to be brought to such a violent end. He didn't care. It was no business of his, no, his business lay in making this unfortunate lump of flesh disappear.

The stagnant silence of the kelp forest was interrupted by the sound of a bone saw striking at its target, worked away by wrinkled and nimble fingers.

Silas' joints were aching by the time he finished and placed his bone saw down to clean later. He wondered if, perhaps, he should request that they do all the hacking for him beforehand, as time was not very kind to his body. He couldn't imagine doing all this for another seventeen years on top of his regular work.

Silas scooped up his newly acquired selection of parts and drifted back out of the cave and across the garden to where a single brain coral sat still and waiting in the dark.

It was a huge, sprawling thing. A pretty orange and yellow boulder brain coral that would leave avid farmers of coral green with envy at the size. It stood out amongst the mostly green garden, bright, bold, and beautiful.

"Evenin', Gillian." Silas grunted, holding up what was probably an arm. "Got some supper for ya."

The absurdly large brain coral, naturally, did not respond. At least, not with words. What it did do was slowly ripple and move, shifting around and opening up until there was a large hole in the centre. A mouth of sorts. Silas could probably fit inside, not that he was stupid enough to try.

One by one, Silas tossed the pieces of the poor soul that had incurred the Leech family's wrath into the gaping maw of his beloved pet, waiting a few minutes in between each piece.

It took some time for every piece to be discarded. Whoever this was certainly wasn't small, and Silas would not choke out Gillian by shoving it all in at once.

When the last remaining parts were finally gone, Silas patted Gillian's side, and the coral slowly closed up once more.

"Good boy." Silas said, then returned to the cave to clean off the bone saw. There, technically, wasn't much to be done, as blood didn't really stick underwater. However, Silas knew better than to leave it at that and spent the next twenty minutes or so scrubbing and brandishing with soap and magic until the deadly blade was spotless.

Satisfied, Silas slid the bone saw back into its place in the little cave, and left to finally return home.

It was midnight when Silas shut the door behind him, and he tried not to think about how a few years ago he would have been done by at least eleven. There was no point in mulling over it. He couldn't do a thing about time.

Usually, Silas would check on Finn once he finished with "business." Take a peek into his son's room and make sure he wasn't struggling to fall asleep or experiencing nightmares again.

But... Finn wasn't here. No, he was away at school, the same school Morrigan attended, learning new things and, hopefully, making new friends.

Silas swam to his room and rested on the edge of his bed with a sigh. His lamp flickered, casting shadows on the wall.

What would tomorrow bring, he aondered. Hopefully not another "job", this one left him feeling exhausted. But he couldn't complain, could he? He signed up for this, quite literally.

With a slow exhale, Silas reached over and turned off the lamp. His room was plunged into a deep, comfortable darkness, and he let calm overtake, just for tonight. He could rest now.

-End

...........................................

A/N: I hope you guys liked this one! Sorry if it seems a little wonky or weird, I'm trying to get back into writing, and I've had a lot on my mind. I also didn't really know how to end this.

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

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@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

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#silas clearcove #twisted wonderland #twst oc #writing

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joezworld · 3 hours ago

Text

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

#ttte #sodor #sodor shenangians #fic #trains #traintober #ttte gordon #ttte james #ttte boco #ttte henry #ttte edward #ttte thomas #ttte pip&emma #music #eurobeat #ttte percy #and just to make something clear #every aspect of this story has some kind of IRL basis #even that one

22 notes · View notes

redfoxwritesstuff · 2 days ago

Note

Hi, I'm so worried about what's going to happen in the future. I love fanfic but project 2025 has got me scared. I'm worried that I will lose your stories.

I need everyone to take a breath, gather around all my lil foxkits and take a seat with momma Kit.

It's okay. I mean, it's *not* but it is. The sun rose today. And it will tomorrow. Yes, something very bad happened last night. Yes, it's lookin like things will turn out perfectly for the oppressors. We lost multiple battles last night.

But the war isn't over until we breathe our last breath.

Fanfic and written porn, small noncommercial creations are not currently in danger. We have to trust AO3 to do what they have to, up to relocating if needed, to protect their cause. They're worried about mainstream money makers who could potentially be a lobbying force.

Project 2025 has far bigger priorities than us playin dolls with words on AO3

Yes, shit sucks. But changes don't happen overnight. Yes, burning the house down is easier, it's quicker but it still takes time.

Cry, scream, do what you must but go out and vote. Vote in school board elections, vote for minor local political roles, vote for mayor, vote for governor. It's slow but you *can* flip your local politics and that will push change up.

Don't stop fighting.

Don't give up.

#kit answers #politics #political #us politics

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dyli-dadi3 · 3 days ago

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Kinktober

Day 4: Bloodplay

You're feeling a little spooky and decide to be a vampire for tonight.

Summary: You find yourself being the rock stuck in a hard place when Leon suffers an unexpectedly severe wound. Tags: Bloodplay, handjob, drinking blood, eating cum, blood as lube, mentions of gun wounds and guns, slight knifeplay if you squint

The two of you were an unconventional team, finding each other while roaming the RPD.

All it took were some close calls and silly jokes for you to become close with Leon. You enjoyed his little quirks, and he appreciated your ability to laugh with him. It was easy to cover each other’s back when a horde of zombies came, the two of you working seamlessly together.

Until Leon got shot.

You knew it was a bad idea to follow that “FBI Agent,” but Leon looked at you with those bright eyes of his, full of hope and naivety, and you had no other choice than to put your better judgment behind you.

You knew he thought she was sexy, I mean, who wouldn’t? Smooth voice, shiny hair, trenchcoat that leaves everything to the imagination, and those black stilettos that fed the flames. You got it, you truly did. But you couldn’t help the fact that it made you insanely jealous. You watched from behind as he walked with her, telling her all the silly things he used to whisper with a giggle to you.

But you’re not a bitch; you run to his side immediately when he drops to the ground with a groan, ignoring as Ada proceeds to engage in combat with Annette, running after her once she notices that Leon is being handled.

“Leon! Are you okay?” I asked frantically, hands hovering over his dazed form in case you hurt him more. He was the police officer, okay? You only knew how to hold a gun because your father taught you so the two of you could go hunting. You had no experience with human wounds. Knew how to mercy kill your prey and skin them, not apply a tourniquet or gauze.

Leon groaned, grabbing your attention. “Don’t worry about me, go with Ada and stop Annette.” The thought made your eyes roll. She could deal with it herself, that was her original plan anyway. And besides, she made it more than clear how she was always “saving his ass.” You were more focused on how his blood was staining his uniform, having a direct relationship with your anxiety. Watching the pool grow bigger wasn’t boding well for your mental health.

“I’m not leaving you alone like she did, look at you!” Your hushed whispers were drowned out by the hissing of pipes and the distant groaning of once-living civilians.

Leon’s head thuds against the concrete floor as he whimpers.

You froze, listening to the sweet sound as his words blur, your mind fixating on the noises he was letting out.

“Please…” Leon begged, snapping you out of your engrossment enough for you to realize he had given up and was asking for your help now.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll help you, Leon.” You said quickly, wracking your brain to remember everything you’ve seen from movies. Staunch the blood flow, clean and wrap the wound, elevate.

First, umm… find something to stop the flow…

You look around, noticing a tear in the bottom of your tank. Great, fabric rips in lines! You quickly tear off a strip from your tank, wrapping it around Leon’s shoulder in a makeshift tourniquet.

He groans again, tilting his head away. “I’m so sorry, Leon. But you’re going to be okay, you hear me?” You say sternly.

Who are you fooling? You have no idea if this isn’t serious. But hey, if he’s still responding, then that must mean something.

Second, clean and wrap….

This one was harder. If you took off any more fabric from your top, you would end up with a crop top, what could you use to clean it?

You eyed the knife Leon keeps on his person, a gift from his Lieutenant was what he had told you earlier. You gently grabbed it, using the blade to cut off the fabric covering his shoulder. You tried to ignore the growing heat in your core as Leon moaned when you used the makeshift rag to swipe away the blood. “Sorry, Leon… You’re doing so well. So good for me… just a little longer.” You praised, using the knife to remove the sleeve of his long-sleeve shirt, carefully making a thick strip of fabric to use later.

“I’m going to remove the bullet, I’m so sorry.” You whisper, talking the tip of the blade and digging it into the wound. You bit your lip as Leon started to squirm, soft wines falling past his lips as he fought back the urge to let out noises.

You dig it in deeper, knowing the bullet was still there since there was no exit wound. “Don’t be afraid, Leon. It’s okay to make noises.” You reassured him.

Of course, you had ulterior motives, you wanted to hear him whimper again, for him to moan and squirm for you.

He bit his lip and whined, scrunching his eyes closed as his back arched.

You squeezed your thighs together, watching as he moved underneath you.

He looked so pretty, mouth agape as noises slipped past those plump lips… This reaction was normal, right? After all, if this were in a porno, his noises would fit in without a second thought.

Maybe you were a freak… God. You’re staring at this poor man like a slab of meat, cutting him up like a surgeon who graduated through online school. You saw how the bullet finally clinked to the ground, your mind spread in a million different directions as you wiped the blood off his wound and wrapped it up with the fabric of his sleeve. Blood was everywhere, all over your hands, his arm, the floor. It was doing things to you that you wouldn’t like to admit. You felt like a creep, lusting over this man who was bleeding all over you. Jesus, you never thought a man could make bleeding out look so good.

You looked down at your hands covered in blood and bit back a sigh, rubbing the pads of your fingertips together and watching as the blood already began to thicken. Your eyes then trailed to those rosy lips of his, losing your willpower as your stained fingers began to trace the plush of his flesh. You saw how Leon gave you a confused expression, but he wasn’t protesting. That was all it took for you to continue the impromptu trail of blood along the softness of his jaw, the high contour of his cheekbones. You felt like an artist leaving paint strokes, the skin of Leon’s face akin to the canvas as he stared at you.

“Has anyone told you how attractive you are, Leon?” You asked softly, eyes finally leaving his now deep red skin to the clear blue of his eyes.

“U-Uhmmm, my ex-girlfriend called me cute once?” Leon said gently, not knowing why this was important. After all, he was in discomfort, and you were tending to his wounds a moment ago.

“That’s not enough,” you tutted, your hand on his chest now. “You need to know how much I want you right now.” You watched as his eyes widened, his cock kicking in his slacks.

“You like that? Having me all needy for you?” You smirked softly, trailing your hand down to palm his cock that was starting to fill out his boxers.

“Yeah…” Leon muttered, his hand coming up to cover his face. “Never thought you’d touch me.”

“You couldn’t see the way I’d ogle you?” You chuckled, squeezing him and enjoying the way he squirmed, the way your hand left a stain on his pants that would be tough to remove (if he got the pre stains out first). “Or the way I look at Ada like she’s the scum of the earth when you guys flirt?” I huffed, pressing down a little harder.

“No?” Leon said in shock, biting his lip to stifle a whine as you unzipped his pants, pulling him out of his boxers. He moaned softly as you began to pump him, globs of pre and blood mixing into a wet mess. All you could hear was the noises Leon made, and the wet noises as you jerked him off. The groans of zombies or the hissing of pipes went from the foreground of your attention to the background, nothing more than the tips of mountains far, far away on a foggy day. Blurred, muddled, nothing to the crisp sound of a whine ripped straight out of Leon as you squeezed his tip.

“Fuck, slow down. Feels t’good…” he protested, but his hips jerking told a different story. It was cute the way his body wasn’t listening to his brain, so desperate to cum that it didn’t want to wait. You were eager to listen to his body, you might as well make him cum if you’re using his blood as a lubricant. A sorry of sorts to make up for how you thought the red coating his length was so arousing.

“Why would I do that?” You decided to simplify the thoughts in your head, punctuating your retort with faster pumps up and down his cock. You were immediately rewarded with a trickle of pre, wetting the drying blood and helping your hand glide again.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, g'nna cum!" Leon whined, his face screwing up in the most adorable pout as his body suddenly went tense. Spurts of cum shooting from his flushed tip, balls squeezing as he moaned. You continued your ministrations, fascinated by the surreal beauty of the man before you. The only reason you stopped was for the tears you saw begin to run down his rosy cheeks, you could see him struggle to find the words to tell you to stop through the haze of blood loss and lust.

As Leon recovered, eyes closed and letting out shallow pants to grab his bearings, you took your messy hand adorned with pearly cum and crimson blood and tasted him. The sexual satisfaction was more than you would have ever thought, it was as if you were internalizing his soul. That was him you were consuming, like a mother who eats her placenta. His essence that gives him life, and then the one that gives life to others. Tangy and metallic, yet sweet, everything you adored and more. You're truly going to hell for this, aren't you?

"You taste good."

"..."

"...What?"

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #smut #x reader #tw blood #cw blood #blood as lube #blood play #knifeplay

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forgetmaenott · 4 hours ago

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ILOVEYOU - TADC Showtime One-Shot

summary: Much to his confusion, Caine finds himself with the most unusual symptoms around Pomni. Sometimes he overheats, sometimes he blue-screens, sometimes he even glitches. It doesn’t worry him too much until he happens to hear of a little thing called ‘the love bug’.

inspired by : https://www.tumblr.com/dismas-n-dismay/762033111925194752/something-about-one-of-the-first-major-computer

tags : @certifiednerd01 @sm-baby

The virus had first crept its way into his code during one of their “lessons”.

It was a routine at this point. After one of their adventures and a digital meal, Pomni would retreat to her room. Usually she’d stare off into space and try to process the absurdity of that day’s adventure, only to be interrupted by Caine teleporting to her room. These days, though, he kindly knocked on her door to respect her space. She’d let him in, usually with a tired smile before he’d ask for her feedback on the adventure, and then their conversation would gradually shift topics until they lost track of time.

One particular night, she had been telling him fragmented memories from her real life. She couldn’t remember her name, or anything particularly personal, but she still remembered scattered feelings or moments, just with blurred faces and missing names. It was cathartic for her, to have someone to tell about her memories and gradually piece them together, ever-so-slight--especially when that someone was an AI who hung on her every word.

He laid on her bed beside her, gloved hands propping his chin up to gaze at her as she spoke. His front resting on her bed, legs kicked up and swinging behind him.

"...oh! that's another thing humans do. Traditions, I guess? Based on the seasons. Over the summer, some people like going to the ocean. A real ocean, it's bigger than you can imagine. It's sort of terrifying. We haven't even explored half of it," Pomni rambled on. Sometimes, she got so comfortable she forgot anyone was even there listening.

Caine gasped dramatically. "Really? All of that technology and you don't know most of what's down there? How spooky!"

Pomni blinked before laughing softly. "I mean, yeah. I guess we're pretty advanced. I mean, just look at you," she said before realizing.

Caine dusted off his suit. "What about me?"

"W-well, you know, cause you're...not human?" Pomni trailed off shyly, almost worrying that she had offended him in some way.

"Ha-ha! Oh, Pomni, you’re so silly. Of course I know that," Caine wiped a fake tear from his eye before lifting a finger, "as a matter of fact, I named myself!"

Pomni leaned towards him curiously. The closest she had been willing to get to him yet. "Really?" she asked curiously. “I-I didn’t know that. How’d that happen?”

"That's right," he replied, but to him the topic of conversation had immediately went on the back burner. She was listening to him. She was genuinely asking about him. Who had ever done that? Oh, dear, had she always had those pinwheel eyes? Oh, how he loved the color red. Especially now that he knew she had red in her eyes. The same shade of his suit, too.

He caught himself when he realized they were sitting in silence, her awaiting him to continue. He cleared his throat awkwardly, regaining his composure. “Oh, dear, I lost my train of thought didn't I? What was I saying?"

"Your name?" Pomni prompted.

Caine blinked. “Oh, right! Of course. Well, I wasn’t originally coded with a name. So, when I became sentient—and I mean fully sentient—I gave myself my name. Can you guess what it means, my dear?”

He had gripped her hand excitedly, prompting her to guess. He rarely had anyone be so genuinely curious in him and it was a little more than refreshing, to say the least.

Pomni bit her lip in thought. “I really don’t know,” she admitted.

“Go on, guess!” Caine piped up, always one to jump straight towards the path of games.

Pomni definitely was not a fan of guessing games. She looked around uncomfortably, wracking her brain to come up with something. “Uh—well, I think I can guess what the A and I stand for…” she smiled gently, “as for the rest of it…Creative Artificial Intelligence uh…I don’t know. Something, something.. Entertainment,” she guessed weakly.

“I like the sound of that! But not quite,” Caine corrected. He flew above her, dramatically gesturing to the colorful words that popped up as he spoke. “Actually, it means…Creative Artifical Intelligence Networking Entity!” Confetti rained down on Pomni and she swatted it away. “Ah, apologies—it’s a habit.”

Pomni coughed as a digital piece of confetti unpleasantly entered her mouth. "It's fine," she brushed off before focusing on the acronym in front of her, "so I was close."

Caine floated down beside her again. "Actually, 'something something' is not part of my name, my dear!"

Pomni blushed slightly at her silly wording, looking away sheepishly. "Y-yeah. I know that."

Caine tilted his head curiously at her. She was blushing...why? To his knowledge, humans flushed out of embarrassment or heightened body temperatures. She certainly couldn't get sick here, so why on Earth would she be embarrassed? "My little lemon cake, is something wrong? Did I embarrass you?"

Pomni glanced back at him, surprised he picked up on her emotions. He had never done that before. Never been so...caring. "Huh? Oh, no...it's nothing. Really."

Caine watched her for a while, unblinking. He never blinked, but it was especially noticeable now. Pomni was a generally nervous person, but she seemed to be blushing more intensely at his attention. "You seem to be ashamed. Why is that?"

Pomni broke their eye contact. "Caine, I'm alright. I-I mean I appreciate it, but--"

Her words were cut short at the feel of his gloved hand over her own. Comforting her. Trying to be empathetic. Just like they had spoken about. "You can tell your ringmaster anything that digital heart of yours desires," he recited from his research on human comfort.

Pomni wasn't embarrassed, truthfully. At least, not to the extent he was trying to make it. But with his hand on hers, with him learning, she certainly felt...something. She smiled weakly. "I know, Caine. ...Thanks," she offered a shy response, ‘I…you’re doing good.” She tentatively squeezed his hand.

A flutter ran through his code, a strange shivering sensation he had never felt in his existence. She had praised him. She thought he was doing good. Oh, dear, he hadn’t felt this good since the last time he received overwhelmingly positive feedback on his adventure. Which was an awful long time ago. Not to mention, she had touched him. His analysis of her behaviors these past months had taught him how touch-averse she was, yet here she was, holding his hand. But not only had she not pulled her hand away like usual, no--she had subconsciously reciprocated, wrapping her gloved fingers around his hand. Human warmth around artificial cold. He was too afraid to move his hand, his system quite literally freezing in place.

The rest of their night continued as normal. Their conversations jumped from adventures to Pomni’s favorite fruit, and then they’d eventually part ways for the night. It waa a routine.

But now, there was a strange presence of static where his stomach would be, growing larger the more he watched her smile.

—————

It was following their adventure at the lake where Caine experienced his first glitch.

She had experimentally kissed him on the cheek—or what could be considered his cheek—in a way that left him frozen, unable to teleport them down as he normally would have.

“Anything for you, dear.”

She had looked back at him with a gentle smile, digital moonlight reflecting lightly against her wide pinwheel eyes. Her eyes so grateful, so inviting as he rested by her side at the digital lake. And there it had been again, that static starting to spread from his chest to his core. The glitch, growing larger.

When they had parted ways that night, he had found himself secretly checking back his memory to revisit the moment. He replayed it, over and over. The way the moonlight reflected in her eyes, the blush tinted on her pale face, her sheepish smile, the way her gloved hand had so gently held the bottom of his jaw before pressing her soft lips against him—oh, how he wished he hadn’t frozen up after she kissed him. Maybe he could have returned the favor.

The thought alone, the memory of her lips pressed on the left side of his jaw, sent a flutter through his code. And then, when he imagined her blushing face after her bold kiss, the space around him seemed to glitch ever-so-slightly.

Oh, no matter. These things happened sometimes.

So why did it only seem to happen when he thought of her?

—————

If he had been trying to be subtle about his favoritism, he certainly wasn’t doing a good job of it, either.

Initially, he sought out to challenge Pomni’s stubbornness by tailoring an adventure just for her, just to win her over. But as time went on, that desire to protect his ego expanded on to an endless attempt to impress her. Maybe it was, in part, for the sake of his ego. But the static he felt when she praised him, the way he’d catch himself staring when she smiled, there was something so authentic about it. Something he couldn’t quite understand, but he knew he wanted to feel more of.

Today, they had returned from an adventure that, in his opinion, was the best one yet. It had everything! Stakes for Jax, maturity for Zooble, friendly NPCs for Ragatha, an unlimited supply of comedy masks for Gangle, detailed digital insects for Kinger, and for Pomni, the option for a relaxed open-world adventure. Even the furthest inches of the map were coded with details intended for Pomni’s eyes only. Her favorite fruit hanging from a digital tree, or flowers in her favorite color blooming, the right amount of digital sunlight–anything he remembered about her.

Caine was on the edge of his seat to see her reaction today. He hoped she had seen all the details he’d coded in for her. He hoped he’d get to see her smile again. It was so pleasant to see. He caught himself smiling at the thought before his Wacky Watch alerted him of the others returning.

He floated excitedly towards the opening portal. “Welcome back, starlets! How was the adventure today? Thoughts? Praise? Feedback? Angel food cake?”

Jax rolled his eyes. “Not enough death, violence, and bloodshed. Also, it’s no fun if Gangle has unlimited masks.”

Gangle smiled, huffing contently. “I liked it.”

Zooble shrugged. “It was…fine.”

“Guys, be nice,” Ragatha scolded before smiling up at Caine. “It was…better.”

“So many new insects,” Kinger whispered in wonder, retreating to his pillow fort to add them to his collection.

“Yeah, yeah. Where’s our digital feast? I’m starving,” Jax complained.

Caine didn’t hear Jax’s words, eyes immediately drifting to the red-and-blue jester walking out of the portal. Odd–he felt like his system was overheating at the sight of her. He’d have to check on that later. “Pomni! My dear, how did you like the adventure? Did you happen to notice any hidden details today?” Caine flew down to her, resting his chin on his hands as he awaited her response eagerly.

Pomni smiled shyly. “Yeah, actually. It reminded me of a lot of that shore I told you about. Thank you, Caine…really,” she said sincerely.

Caine flew into a loop excitedly. “Oh, splendid! Tell me more, my dear! What else did you find appealing?”

Pomni had begun to walk towards her room as she spoke and he was quick to follow, not missing the chance to earn her praise. “Well, it definitely was an improvement from yesterday. I liked the extra details on the scenery. And everyone else seemed content. I’m sure you could ask them,” she offered, flushing slightly from his attention.

“Oh, but I want to hear your response to my adventure! You’ve given me such great feedback, my buttery biscuit,” Caine stopped her in her tracks, floating in front of her path. “Do you think I did good?”

Pomni blushed. It was obvious how highly he favored her attention, and the sidelong glances from the others weren’t helping. “Um, I-I…yeah. You did, good, Caine.”

Caine could have shut down there and then and been happy. “Oh, you flatter me. Do you really think so, my dear?”

“Sheesh, lay off it. Are we going to eat or not?” Jax interrupted, crossing his arms as he watched the two.

Caine shushed him. “Y-yes, just a moment, Jax. I want to hear more feedback from Pomni. Tell me, my dear, was the story to your liking? Did I do good with that?”

“Um, Caine, I–” Pomni rubbed her arm uncomfortably.

Caine lifted a finger. “Ooh! Or how about the designs for the NPCs? Did I go too far with the details, or did I not do enough? And what about the secret quests I added? Did you like that element of surprise? Or–”

Jax groaned. “God, are we ever going to eat? Or are you just going to stand here compliment-fishing with Pomni all day?”

“Jax, be nice. They’re just working on improving the adventures,” Ragatha scolded, offering Pomni a grateful smile, “and I think it’s working pretty well.”

“Who cares? All Caine is doing with these adventures is trying to impress Pomni,” Jax groaned, crossing his arms, “that’s not an improvement. That’s just desperation.”

“T-that’s not true!” Caine was quick to pipe up. “I like all of my super stars an equal, legal amount!”

“Drop it, Jax,” Pomni put her foot down, a light blush on her cheeks despite it all.

Jax snickered. “Of course you’d defend him, short stack. You probably like being the ringmaster’s little favorite, don’t you?”

Caine’s upper jaw arched downward. “I do not favor any of my stars over the others! I’m simply gaining feedback from my dear friend.”

“Give it a rest, Caine. We all know you’re only doing this for her. You don’t give a [#$!?] about the rest of us. Just face it. You’ve got the love bug for our dear jester friend,” Jax mocked, flashing a sarcastic grin at him.

Pomni flushed instantly. “Wh—J-Jax!”

“Who said something about a bug?” Kinger peeked out of his pillow fort excitedly.

“The…love…bug?” Caine’s systems froze instantly at the words “love bug”. Oh, dear…Jax was onto something. The freezing, the overheating, the glitching? It was all coming together. He knew what was happening. He had heard of this before, but never imagined it would one day affect his programming…

“Well, would you look at that. He is lovesick after all,” Jax mocked.

“Love…sick?” Caine looked around at the others, confused and concerned at him suddenly freezing up. Panic settled within him, a feeling he had not felt in a long time. “I-I…ahem, a-a digital feast as your prize,” he announced weakly, snapping a feast into existence at the table. “Enjoy, my dears. Adventure awaits tomorrow.” With an abrupt snap of his fingers, he dissipated from the main room, teleporting to who-knows-where in the circus.

Silence filled the room at his reaction, ultimately broken by Jax scurrying over to the table. “God, I thought he’d never leave.”

Pomni bristled. “You’re an [#$!?]hole.”

Jax shrugged, taking a bite of his digital meal. “As long as I get to see funny things happen to people. Just never thought I’d see the day Caine would go soft for one of us,” he grinned mischievously at Pomni, expression insinuating everything she needed to know. “Besides, what does it matter to you? Unless…you have the ‘love bug’ for dentures over there?”

She blushed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pomni defended weakly, but her voice was drowned out by the stirring of conversation amongst the others.

Pomni didn’t eat anything, her stomach filled with knots and butterflies all at once.

-------

Caine’s digital form was filled with knots and static, all for her.

He desperately reviewed his memories–the glitching, the static he felt, everything. Oh, dear. Jax was right, wasn’t he? How could he have been so oblivious this whole time? How could he have not realized sooner?

Bubble floated in beside him as he checked his memory. “Hey, boss, check out this joke I came up with! Why is—”

“Not now, Bubble! I have some very important business to attend to,” Caine cut his bubble friend off instantly.

“Business? You mean watching back memories of you and Pomni?”

“Y-yes, I—it’s nothing! I need to run some tests,” Caine abruptly answered him.

Bubble’s sharp grin widened, if that were even possible. He floated upside down. “You mean how you’re in loooooooove?”

Caine brought his gloved hands to his top jaw in frustration. “The love bug!” he corrected briskly, “Yes, yes, I know! Just—leave me to it, Bubble. The entire circus depends on it.”

“Heheh, love bug,” Bubble laughed to himself before being popped by a very panicked Caine.

“One less distraction,” he mused before running some more diagnostics on himself.

-------

Pomni stared blankly at her ceiling the next morning. It seemed that her worst fears were coming to fruition. Jax saw right through her. The others had to have noticed how oddly drawn she was to Caine. It was something she, herself, was still not used to. Pining for the circus’s clueless AI ringmaster was not part of the plan when she had arrived here. But now…

Jax had also said that Caine had a crush on her. And to be fair, it did seem that way. It was something she couldn’t even deny. She tried, every now and then, to get the truth out of him. Trying to fluster him, to see if his attempts to impress her were all for his own ego or for something more personal. With someone as clueless and friendly as Caine, it had her teetering back and forth between believing he did reciprocate or believing he couldn’t possibly feel that way. But she knew it was stupid of her to get her hopes up. It was stupid of her to fall for an AI to begin with.

She sighed, sitting up from her bed. The digital flower he had given her on their private walk some time ago still laid on one of the letter blocks beside her bed, alongside a drawing Gangle made for her and a butterfly from Kinger’s insect collection he had chosen to give her.

It wasn’t so crazy, was it?

Months ago, she abandoned the others for an exit, but now…

Things were different.

So different that maybe her unexpected friendship with Caine wasn’t unusual.

There was no sense of time in the circus, but Pomni guessed it was time for roll call. She mentally prepared herself for another day of Jax’s teasing and Caine’s goofy, but admittedly endearing, antics, exiting her room and out into the hall—

“POMNI!”

If it weren’t for the door behind her, Pomni surely would have fallen back at the sight of her ringmaster teleporting right in her path, inches away. “AGH! Caine–how many times have I told you not to—”

“I know, my dear. But it’s an emergency!” Caine explained anxiously.

Pomni paused. He never seemed genuinely afraid, unless it was for some gag.“Wha–an emergency? Is everything okay?”

Caine took his hat into his hands, fiddling with the rim. He shook his head. “No! I’m infected, Pomni! The whole circus could be at risk! You have to help me!”

“HUH?” Panic settled into Pomni at the thought of the entire circus, and everyone inside it, being swallowed up and disappearing forever. “O-okay, calm down, Caine. Just… tell me what happened.”

Caine unexpectedly fell to his knees in front of her, placing his gloved hands over his eyes as though he were about to cry. "It’s…it’s…ILOVEYOU!"

Pomni did a double-take, flushing a deep shade of red, nearly not believing what she heard. "Y-you--huh?!"

Caine buried his face in his gloved hands, down on his knees. "The Love Bug, Pomni! I've been infected with the Love Bug! It's going to eat away at me," he wailed, cartoonish tears spilling from behind his hands.

"Oh," Pomni paused as he wailed, looking around as though she was expecting someone else to walk in from the commotion. Once she was sure she was no longer blushing, she cautiously knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder gently. "Um...you're talking about a computer virus?"

"A worm! It's going to spread across the circus, Pomni! I don't know how it got here, I-I must have let it in, I--"

"Caine! Slow down," Pomni interrupted his rambling, "tell me what happened. Why do you think there's a virus?"

"I don't know what it is, dear," Caine confessed, "but I have experienced these strange sensations. Static, glitching perhaps--behaviors that go against my very coding. But most of all, when I'm with you. It’s why I came to you, first. And you’re so clever, I figured you’d know what to do.”

”Me?” Pomni blinked in surprise. She thought on what he said. "Static and glitches?" she repeated, frowning as her thoughts drifted. What the hell would she know about a computer virus?

Caine nodded. "When you talk to me sometimes, dear, I feel static inside of me. Here," he put a gloved hand on his chest, where his heart would be if he had one. "Did you bring a virus in with you? Is that even possible?"

Butterflies settled in her stomach as his words sank in. There was no way he could possibly be confessing—oh, God. Could he even feel the same way? Pomni looked to the side and fiddled with her buttons nervously. “Um…no. It’s not,” she took a deep breath before kneeling down beside him so she was eye-level, voice sounding unexpectedly even despite her sudden nerves. “Tell me more about this…virus. I’m sure we can figure it out,” she gave him a weak smile in the hopes that it was reassuring. She knew deep down she just wanted to know if he really did feel the same, but she ignored it.

Caine nodded in agreement, still sitting sadly on the floor beside Pomni. He placed a finger where his chin would be in thought. “O-okay, dear. Well, let's see. I checked my memories back last night... For instance, in memories where you’d look at me, my system would begin overheating. Or when you touch me, I freeze up. When you compliment me, well,” he laughed sheepishly, “I blue-screen.”

Pomni blushed furiously, her heart speeding up at his unintentional confessions. “Caine-”

“Oh! And when you look especially striking some days, I feel like the ones and zeros of my code are fluttering around. It’s terrifying—I must be falling apart. And I haven’t even mentioned the glitches that happen when I check my memory—”

The fluttering in Pomni’s heart tingled to the tips of her fingers, making kneeling there unbearable. Her face was heating up with every word he said, heart in her throat. “Caine, I..." Pomni bit her lip, unsure how to explain this to an AI, "this doesn't sound like a virus to me. It sounds almost…human…? I guess?”

Caine tilted his head curiously at her. "Humans glitch from the inside out, too?" he said, and peeked out from behind his fingers.

"N-no, it..." Pomni trailed off, cutting herself short with a sigh, "it sounds like...what humans feel," she settled with that explanation for now. It was really very awkward to try and tell an AI ‘it sounds like you have a crush on me’. Not to mention, words were failing her at the realization that he felt just as fond of her as she was of him. And to think, she had been afraid to embarrass herself around him with her crush—

“What they feel..?” Caine tilted his head at her curiously, “like amazement? Wonder? Excitement?”

“Yes, except…” Pomni hesitated. She wasn’t sure if it was worth it to take the leap and just tell him. “…Caine?”

“Yes?”

Pomni reached for her buttons, fidgeting with them mindlessly. “When you say all of these things…what is it that you want?”

“Want?” Caine repeated.

“Yeah, want. Desire. It’s just…humans usually can tell what it is they feel based on what they want,” she explained, although she knew deep down what she hoped his answer was. The thought alone—the word you—it sent such a thrill through her.

Caine placed a finger on his lower jaw, top jaw arching in an exaggerated eyebrow raise. “Hm, excellent question! Well, when you return from my amazing adventures, I want you to come to me. To speak to me. To find me…admirable.”

Pomni nodded. Caine trying to impress her was nothing new. She was well-aware her stubbornness towards the circus resulted in him paying her extra attention, but it didn’t take a genius to know that by now, that was unnecessary. “Okay. So you want my attention, you want me to see positively. What else?”

Caine placed a finger on his chin, an exaggerated arch in his upper jaw as he thought. “Hmm…well, I’m not sensing any patterns. Except for you. Why do you ask?”

Pomni’s heart skipped a beat. Had he actually said what she had been hoping he’d say? Well, not exactly. It seemed like he wasn’t entirely sure what he was feeling in the first place. But who better to teach him than her? She took a deep breath before choosing to brave it. “Caine…I need to explain something to you,” she started.

“Oh, dear, what is it? Are you going to diagnose me with the love bug? With an incurable digital sickness?” Caine pressed his hands together nervously. “Go on. You can tell your favorite ringmaster!”

Pomni took another deep breath to calm her nerves. “Well, the good news is you don’t have a bug. Or a virus. At least, I don’t think so.”

Caine froze in place. “I don’t?”

Pomni shook her head.

“Now, now, don’t be silly, my marionberry muffin! Such frequent glitches aren’t usual for an AI like me,” Caine explained, “how can you be so sure? Are you really a qualified doctor?”

Pomni would probably laugh at his antics if it weren’t for her nerves. “I know because I…I feel the same way,” Pomni admitted, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. It burned a hole right through her.

If Caine had a heart, it would have stuttered in his chest. “You…do?”

Pomni couldn’t form words, so she simply hummed in response. Her face was burning, and she clutched her other arm to curb her trembling hands. “Mhm.”

Caine gaped at her. “You…have the love bug, too?”

“In a way of speaking, yeah.”

“Oh, dear…” he sighed softly, “for who?”

Pomni laughed softly. His obliviousness knew no bounds. She looked at the tiled floor, the butterflies in her stomach unbearable. “W-well, actually, it’s…” she stumbled over her words, blushing to her ears before taking a deep breath and getting enough confidence to meet his eyes. There was no going back now. Her heart sped up, nearly jumping to her throat as she managed the words, “for you."

Caine immediately blue-screened, eyes reading rows of code she couldn’t make out as he processed her words. She flushed at his reaction, slightly self-conscious she misinterpreted his confession. She waved a hand in front of his eyes. “Oh…Caine? Hello…?”

Caine snapped out of it after a few moments. His eyes returned to normal, glancing at Pomni only once before slowly putting a hand over his chest. “Oh, dear. I feel it again,” he said in the quietest voice she’d heard him ever speak in, “the static. Right here. You really—me—?”

Pomni swallowed her nerves, feeling another flutter of butterflies at his response. “I-I know it sounds crazy. I was scared when I realized it. I avoided you. I thought I could run away or deny how I felt, but…the more time I spent with you, the less crazy it seemed,” she explained, meeting his eyes, “I’ve seen all the things you’ve done for me, Caine. For everyone. The adventures, expanding the circus, not teleporting me across the map. And at first it made me enjoy being your friend, but now…”

“Now…?” he prompted.

“Now, you’re telling me you have a crush on me,” Pomni finished, “I didn’t think that was possible, but...”

“A crush?” Caine tilted his head curiously. “Is that what it is?”

Pomni watched him carefully. He was still on the floor, hand on his chest and evidently flustered from her confession. It made her heart speed up, seeing how much he cared. How much he wanted her. “Yeah…the ‘love bug’. What Jax said. It’s not an actual bug. Not for humans at least. I thought he was just being an [#$?!]hole, but what you explained to me…it sounds like what humans feel when they want romantic closeness,” she explained before adding nervously, “a-and, the things you described…it’s how I feel for you.”

“Romantic closeness,” Caine echoed, pausing in thought, “my research for my adventures has taught me about human relationships. About…love.”

A rush of heat ran through Pomni’s chest at the word love. “A-and…?”

Caine, in a rare moment of silence, gazed off towards the end of the hall as he thought back on his research. “And…I believe that is what I want, my dear. With you.” His eyes widened at the realization.

A tingle ran down her spine. “You–you do?” Pomni’s breath caught, cheeks flushing at his words.

“If you’ll teach me,” he confirmed, eyes turning back to meet hers.

Pomni’s pinwheel eyes were blown wide, half in a dream as she nodded. She didn’t know what she wanted in that moment. Or even what to say. Months ago, she would have rather jumped in the cellar than imagine herself in a romantic relationship with him. But these past months had changed things in both of them. In the circus itself. And now, she almost wanted to kiss him. Now…

Her breath caught, when she looked and saw the way he was looking at her. His top jaw arched around his gleaming eyes in the most adoring, lovesick gaze she had ever seen. It made her heart beat harder in her chest, feeling the way his gaze pulled at her heart strings. “Oh, my dear. How could I have not realized sooner? It was so obvious…” he sighed.

She smiled slightly at his cluelessness. It was endearing to her. “A lot of humans feel that way, too. I just never thought…” she trailed off, but he already knew what she was going to say.

Caine’s panic instantly lifted, he sprung up from where he had formerly been curled up. "My dear, I am an advanced AI! I've begun experiencing more 'human' sensations since the day I became sentient. But ever since you, ever since our lessons, well, I think I've become more human than I had ever imagined,” he reached for both of her hands.

Pomni reciprocated his touch. "A-and you're advanced enough to desire closeness?"

Caine tilted his head at her. "I've always known what love is, Pomni. How could I not? You humans talk an awful lot about it. But I never imagined a silly AI like myself being capable of such complex feelings. And yet, I’m advanced enough to know that I've been drawn to you for some time..." A hand moved up to stroke her cheek, right by where her blush resided under her right eye, "and I think I'm beginning to understand why."

"Why?"

"Because you confuse my coding, my little shivering shortbread!” Caine piped up, “Isn't that exciting? I’m more advanced than I’d ever imagined!” His feet lifted from the ground, and he nearly twirled in the air from excitement. He looked down at her again, leaning on his cane with a deep sigh. “Oh, Pomni. Are you sure I’m not love sick?”

For the first time that day, Pomni felt more like herself. She reached for his upper jaw, feeling at him as though he had a fever. “Oh, you definitely are.”

Caine melted into her touch. “I am?” he sighed dreamily.

She nodded with a small smile. “Very sick,” she confirmed, flipping her hand around to cup his features in her palm.

“Very sick,” Caine repeated in a daze, then reached a hand up to meet hers, eyes never leaving hers. Small, cartoonish hearts sprung into existence on the right side of his head as he leaned more into her touch. He noticed them and swatted them away rapidly. “A-ah, ignore that. I can’t help it,” he laughed sheepishly.

Pomni laughed gently. “It’s okay. It’s…endearing,” she blushed, still not accustomed to giving him her thoughts of admiration for him.

“O-oh, dear, you’re too kind…” Caine fiddled with his cane slightly before floating down to her level, planting his feet on the ground once more. “But…if I may, I do still have one question.”

A rush of nerves ran through Pomni. Nonetheless, she kept her cool—which was definitely a feat for her. “Yeah? What is it?”

Caine leaned against his cane once more. “Well, when humans tend to confess their true feelings to another, what do they do next?” he asked.

Pomni blinked, the question catching her off-guard. “O-oh, well…” she looked down the hall in thought, wondering where the others were, “it depends, honestly. But a lot of times, they might decide to, um, date.”

“Ah, of course! Allow me,” Caine cleared his non-existent throat before stretching out a hand to her invitingly, “Pomni, you and I should decide to date.”

If it were somehow possible for Pomni to feel any more ecstatic yet simultaneously terrified, she reached that point. His unconventional phrasing caught her off guard for sure, but it was also mildly endearing. “I…yes,” she accepted his hand tentatively, a small smile spreading across her face, “I’d like that.”

Their touch was immediately broken by Caine flying through the air, zipping around Pomni enthusiastically. “Fantastic! Oh, my dear, I’ve never felt so light as air until now!”

Pomni brought a hand to her mouth, laughing at his excitement.

Caine flew down to meet her once more. “Pomni! You and I should embark on our own adventure,” he wrapped an arm around her, outstretching an arm dramatically to the distance as he added, “a human date!”

Pomni laughed again, raising an eyebrow at him. “Don’t forget you have a whole circus to run, ringmaster,” she teased.

Caine brought a hand to his upper jaw. “Whoopsy-daisy, I almost forgot about the others! My my, you give me a severe case of tunnel vision,” he reached for his cane, preparing to snap himself to the main room before taking one last look at the woman he adored, “I hate to rush the most exciting moment of my never-ending existence, but the show must go on! But, oh, my dear?”

“…Caine?”

Caine tossed his cane between his hands. “How about today, you skip my adventure?”

Pomni blinked in surprise. He never wanted any of his guests to miss his adventures. “Wha—really? Why?”

He flew beside her, holding her hand again. Now that he knew he could hold her hand, he wasn’t sure he’d have it in him to let go for more than a minute. “For our date, of course!” Caine winked at her before continuing sheepishly, “if I may admit, dear…I know what a date is, but I don’t know how to date. There are many things you have to show me.”

A blush rose to Pomni’s cheeks again. “Oh, right,” she stuttered out, then formed a reassuring smile, “i’d love to show you, Caine. Really.” It was just now that she was realizing how intensely her heart had been beating this entire conversation, the trembling seeming to subside now that their true feelings had been revealed.

A couple more hearts fluttered “Of course! What better way to seal our confessions than with a human date? Oh, let’s get this roll call over with, dear. I can’t wait another second!” Caine tightened his grip on her hand.

“You know, you have a lot of energy for someone who’s sick,” Pomni couldn’t help but tease. The more the reality of the situation was settling in, the easier it was for her confidence to return. This artificial man, this AI she had learned to adore, he had truly pined for her all along.

Caine gazed at her adoringly. Oh, my, she was flirting with him, wasn’t she? If she kept going like this, he was going to overheat in front of the others. How lucky was he that this woman adored him as much as he did her? “Why, yes! I’m sick for you.”

“I…don’t think that sounds as romantic as you think it does.”

Caine waved her comment off. “Ah, I’ll perfect the art of flirtation in no time. For now, it’s showtime! And then, a date awaits, my love!”

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