#ask a thon announcements | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

if-whats-new · 15 days

Text

What's New In IF? Issue 21 (2024)

By Marjorie, Axelle, Noi. Brij, Dion and Bex

Now Available!

Itch.io. - Keep Reading below

If you read the zine, consider liking the post: it helps us see how many people sees it! And sharing is caring! <3

~ EDITORIAL ~

Still looking for members!

To ensure the zine has a bright future, we are still looking for free hands with a couple of hours to kill, and minds, looking to make a little difference in the community! Our team might have grown, but there is space for more kind souls!

If you too would like to help us out in a more official capacity, we have some key positions available in our roster. So shoot us a message!

This week, we had a very special guest on Small Talk... XYZZY winner, surrealist author, multimedia creator and Tumblr sensation...

Kit Riemer (@adz)!

We dove into their strange worlds, talked about their impactful games, and learned some pretty interesting stuff about making games!

Check out our interview with Kit Riemer on Small Talk...

We hope you enjoy

this new issue!

MARJORIE, AXELLE, NOI, BRIJ, DION, BEX

~ BE PART OF THE ZINE ~

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? HAS EXPANDED!

Since the release of issue #14, we've enacted some changes with the zine. It is now expanded with interviews of creators from all around the IF world, as well as direct contributions from you, our readers!

THIS ZINE ONLY HAPPENS WITH YOU!

Want to write 1-2 pages about a neat topic, or deep-dive into a game and review it in details? Share personal experiences or get all academic?

WRITE FOR THE COLUMN!

Prefer to be more low-key but still have something to share? Send us a Zine Letter or share a game title for Highlight on…!

WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!

Excited as we are about next week's interview and have questions for our guest? Or want to see a certain author answer questions next? Message us!

SMALL TALK... IS WAITING!

Came across something interesting? Know a release or an update announced? Saw an event happening? Whether it's a game, an article, a podcast… Add any IF-related content to our mini-database!

EVERY LITTLE BIT COUNTS!

~ EVENT SPOTLIGHT : IFCOMP ~

The Superbowl of Interactive Fiction

The Interactive Fiction Competition (or IFComp) is one of the major yearly IF events, since 1995. It may be even the longest still-recurring yearly game making event!

Started by Kevin Wilson in the IF Usenet Forum rec.arts.int-fiction, submitted games were limited to 2h playtime before being judged and ranked by players.

Throughout the years, the IFComp evolved, seeing a couple dozens of parser entries to a wide and diverse range of IF forms. Still, after ballooning during Covid, with recurring 70+ entries, the event continues to be a key avenue for IF creation

As the submission period ended just this week, the IFComp is now moving to its Voting Period, which will last for 1-1/2 month (until October 15). Starting this Sunday, judges will be able to play and rate entries (minimum of 5 to count).

At the end of the event, if participants rank high enough, they are eligible for prizes and part of the Colossal Fund pie! @ifcomp They are still looking for donations!

Looking for great games to play? Want your voice make a difference? Go create an account and vote!

~ ENDED ~

IntroComp officially ended this week. Though there was only one courageous entry this year, congratulations to the winner! Maybe we'll see Good Bones completed within the year!

The campfire ashes of the Tales to Thrill jam have expired. But there are still 10 thrilling entries to check out!

While you can't eat them, you will find three Confiture de Parser entries to play! New and veteran parser creators spent the summer making some fun games (in French)!

As for the SuNoFes Jam, they broke all their records in submissions! Go check out some really cool entries!

The Review-a-thon also ended last week, helping add over a hundred reviews to willing games, and raising money in the process!

~ ONGOING (VOTING) ~

Voting has now started for IFComp! Until Oct 15, you can play and rate at least 5 of the 67 entries! Yup, only just 5 games to be an official judge!

~ ONGOING (SUBMITTING) ~

Only this weekend left to submit for the Bitsy Jam 83! This edition's theme is “temporary”!

The Bring Out Your Ghost jam of remembering old WIPs is coming to an end this weekend. This will be your last chance to show off your ghosts (or attempt to finish them)! @neointeractives

If you are looking to create something but can't do a whole game, the Game Mockup Jam might be for you! Returning this year, the jam is looking for 1-4 screenshots of a game that doesn't exist! @romanhyacinths

Running until Halloween, the Phantasia Jam is a three months game jam to create a fantasy narrative game, with the theme of “Hidden Magic”. It accepts both VN and IF.

On the CoG Forum, Halloween is already there! Until Oct 31st, submit to the Halloween Jam - it has funky themes!

Do you understand or write Ukrainian? Until the end of the year, the Ukrainian IF Festival is happening on itch.io!

~ OTHER ~

The Interactive Fiction Showcase is still running! If you have completed an IF piece this year, consider submitting it! It is happening only on itch!

~ SMALL TALK… ~

WITH KIT RIEMER (@adz)

~ Joining us this week is surrealist author, multimedia creator and Tumblr sensation: Kit Riemer ~ Author of “Computerfriend”, “Verses, and more! ~

Due to Tumblr's link limit, this transcription does not include any links. Download the zine on itch for the complete list.

⟶ Hello Kit! Welcome to Small Talk…

Thanks for having me!

⟶ Please, tell us a bit more about yourself and how you landed in the Interactive Fiction community.

When I was young, I was a big fan of those Choose Your Own Adventure books. The Goosebumps ones were okay, but I found a few pulp scifi ones from the '80s/'90s that were gorier and weirder, and I loved them... at my dad's recommendation, I fooled around with a few parser games like Zork in high school, but didn't realize there was an extant community for that kind of game until much later, when I published consciousness hologram. I originally wrote it as a series of HTML webpages for a hybrid poetics class I took in college, and my friend Brett convinced me to drop it into Twine and build in more interactivity. Then I found my way onto the Intfiction forum and never looked back.

⟶ Let's start with consciousness hologram, which you published in 2018, which was clearly inspired visually by early Twine games. What drove this specific formatting of the game?

It's funny you say that, cuz I wasn't really aware of other Twine games when I made it... I think it looks that way because I was just learning how to use Twine (and write basic HTML), and the styling/coding I did was extremely rudimentary and mostly based on the o.g. HTML webpage version of the story. I like the plainness of old Geocities sites and was trying to recreate that vibe, and I actually think the webpage version of the story was more visually appealing, but I quickly got addicted to the branching choice format. consciousness hologram is my most deliberately interactive game, with customizable name/pronouns and a bunch of little optional choices and branches. For future games, I had to learn to pare down...

⟶ Yet, this styling has not completely disappeared in your subsequent projects, especially in the Computerfriend series. Were those a deliberate choice?

The styling did become more deliberate in Computerfriend. That game was very carefully styled; especially the Hyperpages section, which was a reskinned version of ripped code from a Geocities forum. I spent a long time experimenting with different graphics and recreating old operating system layouts (it was originally supposed to look like Windows 95).

⟶ Is there a particular section/scene of consciousness hologram that you like the most? or one you regret?

I haven't played it in such a long time, but I have fond memories of James's integration section. His voice was a blast to write; a kind of friendly/malevolent ghost hanging around in the background of everything that happens. I'm sure if I played it now I'd cringe at most of it, but so much time has passed that it doesn't particularly feel like my game. When I (very occasionally) get comments about it, it comes as a surprise to me

⟶ Universal Hologram was your entry into IF competitions, resulting in the 23rd rank at the famed IFComp. What was your experience with the biggest IF competition? Were you stressed at all as a first time entrant?

I didn't really understand the prestige of IFComp when I joined, so I wasn't that stressed. The private author's channel was also great for relieving some of that nervousness by commiserating with everyone else. I did get a bit more self-aware as I learned about the community and received real, good, critical reviews. Not all the feedback I got was positive, but it was thoughtful and useful, and I liked that the reviewers stuck to their guns and expressed themselves clearly. During the competition, I finally started playing more IF and began to understand what was expected of a serious piece of IF.

⟶ There were a couple of years between consciousness hologram and Universal Hologram. Was there something about this game that took a while to do?

After finishing consciousness hologram, I still wasn't really involved with the IF scene, and I spent the next couple years writing a weird little novel called North Alter. While working on it, I got sick, and was spending a lot of time seeing different doctors and dealing with symptoms that made it difficult to be productive (this lasted from around 2019-2022). At one point, I listed consciousness hologram on IFDB and thought it would be funny if my friends review-bombed it so it was the lowest-rated thing on the site. I didn't realize there was a serious community there, and on my sorry-for-being-an-idiot tour I met a bunch of folks who were super smart, funny, and kind. I also got some legitimate feedback on my work, and it made me want to take another crack at Twine, so I started work on a sequel to consciousness hologram.

⟶ What is your favorite moment in Universal Hologram? What about your least favorite?

Universal Hologram is a fundamentally silly game, and most of the things I dislike about it now are related to tone. Its philosophical themes (like negative utilitarianism) have an inherent humor, at least to me, but the super casual character dialogue I wrote for it was criticized, rightfully I think, for not seeming to take itself seriously and leaning too hard on slang & swearing. The tonal shift at the end threw some players, too, but I think that's my favorite moment — whichever branch you take, I tried to make the final act of the game feel high stakes. I love the novel The Stars My Destination by Alfred Bester and the paradigm shifting sequence at its end, where each earlier part is put into perspective and the reader (or at least this reader) thinks "oh damn, this is bold, he's actually doing X," so I wanted to try to pull off something similar.

⟶ Universal Hologram (and in a small section Computerfriend) includes AI-generated images. AI is currently a hot-topic in the IF-scene. What was the reaction of players regarding these images? Has your view on AI changed since?

When I was working on Universal Hologram, AI image generation tools were in a fairly early state. They were being written, trained, and published mostly by researchers and students, and it felt exciting to take advantage of them and experiment, especially in the context of a game like Universal Hologram, which deals with issues like the moral weight of an artificial intelligence. It was before the training data was poisoned by recursive AI garbage, so the result of my prompts was often inhuman, grotesque, and unique in a way I found appealing. You had to make choices like selecting the training database and setting how many iterations of an image the program would create, starting from a purplish blob and solidifying (hopefully) into something vaguely resembling the prompt. I especially enjoyed creating GIFs of the images resolving over the course of 300 or so iterations, forcing the program to gradually improve on an alien task it would never understand.

Like most people, I soured on generative AI pretty quickly. Businesses with access to massive (dubiously acquired) user data archives used them to train programs that became more and more predictable. I educated myself about the ethics and the growing environmental impact of tools like ChatGPT, but I also began seeing them used to create petabytes of SEO-optimized spam webpages and Facebook ragebait and samey & terrible stories, games, and images that began to overwhelm the small creative communities I frequented. So even though nobody ever criticized my use of AI (that I know of), I abandoned it, because today's generative AI tools seem antithetical to the things I love about art: individuality, creativity, making something out of nothing.

⟶ You didn't just participate in the IFComp, following up 6 months later with the release of Computerfriend at the SpringThing. Did you notice differences in the vibes between the two events?

Computerfriend was not meant to be a widely accessible or likable game, and I happened to finish it around the time that Spring Thing was occurring, so it seemed like a good match - I think of Spring Thing as a bit friendlier, less qualitative, & more open to odd stuff. (My favorite games that year, Manifest No and Phenomena, were both entered in the Back Garden section.) I do think Spring Thing reviews are a little less critical. Festival vs. competition.

⟶ Can you tell us a bit more about Computerfriend? And how came you up with it?

I plotted out Computerfriend while still quite sick, depressed, and isolated, and I wanted the game to reflect that isolation. I was in therapy at the time, and something that came up often was my feeling that my emotional state was actually completely normal given the circumstances — like, I had been a physically healthy & productive adult, and then I became unable to leave my house or work or see friends, and my reaction to that was, if anything, indicative of a healthy mind. And I began to imagine this character undergoing a similar existence, with personal and environmental factors that made their life hellish, and how frustrating it would be to be told that the way they felt (rather than their miserable material circumstances) was the problem. Then I researched a bunch of different therapeutic techniques to determine how they'd be used to treat someone like this.

⟶ Computerfriend won an IFDB and XYZZY Award, as well as being placed in the Top 50 IF Games of All Time. Did you expect the game to get such a following?

The response to Computerfriend was overwhelmingly positive in comparison to anything else I’ve released. I received some very kind and passionate reviews (which I go back and read occasionally when I need motivation) from intfic writers for whom I have a great deal of respect. It was a big surprise to me that folks enjoyed the game; I had written it from a very bleak & depressed perspective, but there's also some humor, and I heard from a number of players that it was a more pleasant experience than I'd expected, or really intended. Even being nominated for those awards (among brilliant authors like Autumn Chen and Jim Nelson) was hugely flattering.

⟶ Do you have a review that struck you the most?

I think a lot about Kaemi's review of Computerfriend. Kaemi writes such beautiful, intricate, strange prose, and the review is freewheeling but very specific and insightful. Sometimes I'll read a review of something I've written and it'll describe a theme or rationalize the presence of some metaphor/concept in my work, and I'll think "oh, that's why I did that." The people who closely read my stories often have better insight than I do.

⟶ Is there a scene or passage in Computerfriend that you hold dearly?

My favorite scenes in Computerfriend were when I was able to go full Gibsonian sci-fi and invent neologisms, cults, gory window dressing, stuff like that. The parts drawn from my life were not so much fun to write, but it was enjoyable mixing them with way over-the-top genre fiction details. And probably kind of therapeutic, too.

⟶ While Computerfriend was a complete entry, you did write a short sequel for it. Can you tell us a bit more about that?

After publishing Computerfriend I received some (mostly facetious) comments saying I should make a dating sim with the title character, and I thought it was a funny idea, but didn't seriously consider it until my friends in the Neointeractives group threw Smoochie Jam. I'd been plugging away at Verses for a couple years and I needed a break, so I dumped the Computerfriend stylesheet into a new file and wrote Familiar over the course of a few days. Although it was initially kind of a joke, I ended up writing it in a more serious voice. It's a very short, inessential game, a little postface for players who didn't get the closure they needed from Computerfriend.

⟶ What did you enjoy the most while writing Familiar?

I like Godfield, and returning for a little while was nice. When I work on a single project for too long, I enter its world completely, and it’s isolating to throw days, weeks, months, even years of energy into this void that no one else can see. Then, when I publish, the fugue ends so abruptly that by the time the work receives attention and comments, I’m somewhere else entirely. Familiar was less a creative exercise and more a check-in with an older version of myself - how bleak is this place, really? Can anything of value be found there? It didn’t get a lot of attention, but I enjoyed working on it.

⟶ From a more dystopian sci-fi setting, you moved towards bi-lingual works, starting with piele. What was the reason behind this form of translating interactivity?

piele is a prototype for the translation mechanic in Verses (which I just published as part of IFComp). I wanted to build a natural-feeling system to understand both literal and metaphorical/contextual meaning in poetic translation, and piele was my first attempt. I normally wouldn't have published it, but the Neo-Twiny Jam (also from the Neointeractives) was running at the time, and I wanted to show people this little toy I'd made.

⟶ Was there a particular reason for using Romanian as the translated language?

I have Romanian ancestors, and the poetry translation was an exercise to build better cultural knowledge of their place of origin. I don’t speak Romanian, nor do any of my living family members, so it required a lot of consultation with various resources and, ultimately, a lot of assumptions and guesswork. The result is probably not close to the original meaning, but can a translation ever be completely accurate?

⟶ Is there a specific Romanian sentence/saying you discovered through this research that stuck with you?

Romanian is a fascinating language, especially for someone like me who has a rudimentary understanding of some Latin roots - it's a Romance language, of course, so it shares quite a bit with languages like Spanish and Italian, but many of its words also come from other Indo-European sources like Slavic or Dacian. I don't speak it, but I still recognize quite a bit - for example, "blood" in Romanian is "sânge," which I recognized because of the Spanish word “sangre.” The translation process was often frustrating but also filled with moments like this where something suddenly and intuitively made sense. And funny moments, too: lots of old Dacian words described swamps, which makes sense if you look at the geography of the area where the language originated.

A phrase I liked from a book of Romanian folktales: instead of "and they lived happier ever after," the final sentence reads " If they haven't died, they are living still."

⟶ From the short piele concept, you followed up with your IFComp entry Verses. Can you tell us a bit more about it?

Verses has been my project for the last three or so years (I was plotting it out long before publishing Computerfriend, in fact). It's hard to describe, but in short, you play as someone who analyzes objects and phrases to try to determine truth. It's set in Romania in the village where my grandmother grew up, and I've included sections where you translate actual poetry from Romanian, although these sections of the game are mostly optional.

⟶ Were these projects, piele and Verses created as a way to (re)connect to that ancestry?

piele was just a proof of concept, but Verses is in part an attempt to better understand my family's history. My Romanian grandparents died when I was young, and my life is full of their anecdotes and phrases, but I know there's so much I missed, too. Most of what I read about Romanian history while working on Verses was totally new to me. The country's history is politically fraught, and getting a straight story about (e.g.) the Soviet occupation and Romanian holocaust during World War II is very difficult.

⟶ Verses is your second time entering the IFComp. How do you feel about it? Have there been lessons you took from entering Universal Hologram that you applied to Verses?

I like the seriousness of IFComp. Most of the participants (authors, players, reviewers) have higher standards than they would for something like a game jam. That said, no matter how technically proficient you are, not everyone will like what you do. Don't try to please everyone. Your game should work, it should be bug-free, it should be polished, you should be proud of it. But you shouldn't aim for universal acclaim. "Likable" is not a compelling trait for a work of art. Something that appeals strongly to a smaller group, something that upends expectations, even being described as "polarizing" is good.

⟶ What kind of feeling/message do you hope players will take after player Verses?

There's a lot going on in the game, and since its release a few days ago I've seen some discussion around different themes players noticed. I agree with Nabokov when he talks about his distaste for "moral stories;" I want my work to be open ended and provoke questions rather than having a single clear point or argument (if that were the case, I'd write an essay). That said, Verses is a story that's hugely concerned with morality and complicity. I want players to consider their distance from acts committed by their ancestors in the name of the future, and from extant atrocities like the current genocide in Palestine. A gun fires and a living person dies. Then, a thousand miles away, a story is told, a history is written, and not only the death but the life is erased.

⟶ Just before the release of Computerfriend you released Let Me Tell You Who You Are, as an homage to uquiz. How did you manage balancing making this game and your entry to the Spring Thing?

Let Me Tell You Who You Are was a super quick project; I thought it up and wrote the whole thing within a day or two. Uquiz is endlessly funny to me. The limited cultural reach of the quizzes is kind of a joke to people on Tumblr, where the entirety of human experience sits on a spectrum somewhere between Taylor Swift and Hozier, and I thought it would be a good bit to have one of these cheerfully myopic questionnaires that occasionally dips into horror and antiquated verse.

⟶ I am the Mom Friend (too fitting for me...). How did you define each result of the quiz?

The reason I was able to get the quiz done so quickly is that there's actually very little variety... in fact, if I remember correctly, everyone is the Mom Friend :)

⟶ Is there a genre or theme you'd like to explore in future projects?

After Verses, I don’t know what I’ll do. Maybe I’ll record an album. I do have a couple ideas for stories in a more surreal, less sci-fi mode, but I don’t know if they’ll end up as games or something else.

⟶ Your work is universally based on Twine, particularly the Harlowe format. What about it attracted you?

Twine is extremely simple, based stylistically on CSS and HTML (I had some familiarity with these already), and most importantly free. Free to use and free to publish under whatever license you choose. I've tried to learn programs with more use cases (and honestly saleability) like Godot, but I have no background in actual programmatic coding, so I found it too difficult. I might try again at some point, but right now I want to create and publish (not learn new tools) with what little money and time I have. What I love about Twine is that a single person can learn enough in a few days or weeks and make something remarkable without having a wide set of skills (besides writing). And if you do have other skills, like audio engineering or digital art, you can apply them very easily.

⟶ Is there a thing you wished you had known about Twine or IF in general before starting making games?

Learning the conventions of your genre (so you can adhere to or subvert them) by playing can be useful, but there’s nothing you need to know before making a game. Just make something, evaluate, and then make something better.

⟶ You don't just create games, you are a multimedia creator (writing fiction and doing photography). What about those mediums interest you?

Every medium is more or less the same to me in terms of the scope of potential accomplishment (does that sentence make any sense?). I collect ideas and metaphors and themes, and they gradually cohere into a project that fits better into some mediums than others. The more things you know how to do, the more options you have to explore and combine these interests. Film photography does have a special place in my heart, though. There’s something very mystical about it.

I used my (heavily edited) photos in North Alter, and I'd like to do something similar again. I've been focused on text for a while now, and I'm starting to miss the more collage-y stuff I used to do...

⟶ Your photography and stories have also been published. Is there a publication you are particularly proud of?

I'm not especially proud of anything I've made being published/shared widely. I think about Ocean Vuong's interview with The Creative Independent where he talks about awards and competitions: "If you must use that construct, you use it the way one uses public transport. Get on, then get off at your stop and find your people." The attention is a means to an end for me.

⟶ Your work is often centered around the surreal, weirdness, and mysticism. What influences contributed to this?

Life is full of moments of surrealty or unreality. I mistake my dreams for reality all the time, and vice versa. I try to be careful and methodical and thorough when I work, but I don't know anything, and I don't like guessing. I'm comfortable not knowing. And then at the same time, I'm fascinated by people who do have answers. That's something that feels truly surreal to me: positioning yourself as someone with a serious understanding of life's complexity. I like to try to get into these peoples' heads.

I was raised in a conservative religious home. As a child, beginning to pick holes in what's supposed to be the absolute nature of the universe is frightening. It feels like the ground's falling out from under you. I've had to make peace with this, too. I love my parents very much, and I think I understand them pretty well, but there will always be things they believe that I find mystical and strange. It's a life-long process for me to learn as much as I can and, simultaneously, to accept that most things will remain a mystery.

⟶ Are there works that inspire you to create?

Right now, I'm inspired by Kate Zambreno's and Han Kang's books, Marc Horowitz' painting Old traps disappear and new ones emerge, Ville Kallio's game Cruelty Squad, and the album "Grieftopia" by Ministry of Interior Spaces.

⟶ Do you have any IF recommendations for our readers?

Here are some IF games that are worth playing:

The Archivist and The Revolution by Autumn Chen

Repeat the Ending by Drew Cook

the shape you make when you want your bones to be closest to the surface by Porpentine Charity Heartscape

Victim Doll by communistsister (mind the CWs)

Photopia by Adam Cadre

Manifest No by Kaemi Velatet

⟶ You hold multiple usernames over the internet. What's the story behind adz and slugzuki?

I’ve had my Tumblr account for over a decade & was there many years ago when the site deleted a ton of unused blogs - I was obsessed with the album “The Age of Adz” by Sufjan Stevens at the time, so I snatched up the URL :)

“Slugzuki” doesn’t really mean anything, it’s just a username I came up with that’s typically available on every website.

⟶ How do you cope with seeing your posts blow up on Tumblr? And then appear on Twitter/Reddit?

Haha, it's never the posts I expect (or want) that blow up. My friends like sending me screenshots from Instagram or wherever someone's reposted me. It's just the nature of the internet; I'm at peace with it.

⟶ Since you just released something, we won't ask you to divulge what next secret project is in the works. But where can we follow your progress and/or releases?

If you want to keep track of what I release, you can follow me on Tumblr (@adz) or sign up for my email list here: https://buttondown.com/slugzuki.

Now, go play some IFComp (@ifcomp) games and write reviews or comments if the spirit moves you! The authors will be grateful :)

Huge thanks to Kit Riemer for Letting us send so many questions this week and telling us so much… and more!

~ NEW RELEASE ~

No notable new independent release.

As always, don't forget to check out the submitted entries to the events mentioned in the previous pages. They deserve some love too!

~ NEW RELEASE (WIP) ~

Love and Leases (Twine) is a slice-of-life project where you play as a newly single person, trying to get their life back together. @loveandleases

The Ancient Tombs of Time (CScript) is a fantasy project, in which you play as god, sealed away for decades until recently freed. @theancienttombsoftime

The FANTASTIC Clash (CScript) is a modern drama project, where you play as a contestant on a reality TV show.

Immortal (Twine) is a supernatural project, following you as a private investigator, plagued by mysterious dreams. @immortal-if

~ UPDATES ~

After Dark (CScript) updated the Patreon demo with extra content.

Dragon Kin (CScript) added Chapter 5 to the demo.

Drink your Villian Juice! (CScript) Chapter 7 Part 1 is now available to all. @drinkyourvillainjuice

Football Glory (CScript) completed Prologue and Chapter 1 rewrite.

Era of the Archdemons (CScript) added half of Chapter 3.

Grey Swan - Birds of a Rose (CScript) started rewriting the demo, now new and updated. @reinekes-fox

Legend of the Dragoon (CScript) added part of Chapter 1 to the demo.

Sense and Sorcery (CScript) updated the demo with extra content.

The One Chosen (CScript) added new chapter to the Patreon demo. @parrotwatcher

The People's House (CScript)'s complete demo in now live for public beta.

Jolly Good: Tea and Scones (CScript) added a new path to Chapter 7.

Crown of Ashes and Flames (Twine) made Chapter 4 available for all. @coeluvr

Crown of Exile (Twine) updated the Patreon demo with a new chapter. @ramonag-if

Of Crowns and Echoes (Twine) added Chapter 2 to the demo. @of-crowns-and-echoes

Valiant (Twine) completed a major re-write of the demo and routes. @valiant-if

Path of Martial Arts (CScript) updated Patreon demo with extra content. @nicky-if

Specters of the Deep (CScript) added Chapter 7 to demo.

Weeping Gods (CScript) added new content and for the noble origin path. @jcollinswrites

Virtue’s End (CScript) updated the Patreon demo. @virtues-end

Club Oblivion (Twine) completed Malygos’s route. @ramonag-if

The Good People (Na Doine Maithe) (Ren’Py) updated the demo with new sprites. @moiraimyths

Scarlet Sorceress (CScript) released a side chapter called “The Mystery of Castle Alaire’.

Surge, Spire, and Sea (CScript) is the new title of Gigantea: Age of Rot, and added two new chapters.

Bridging the gap (CScript) added extra content to the demo. @astralfortune

Our Life: Now & Forever (Ren’Py) updated the Patreon Beta build. @gb-patch

Fields of Asphodel (CScript) has been officially released under Hosted Game and is available for purchase on Steam and other platforms. @chrysanthemumgames

Dragon of Steelthorne (CScript) has added two chapters to the released game, giving a 40% discount for new players.

~ OTHER ~

Fate Unwritten (Twine) is looking for beta-testers for the upcoming update. @fateunwritten-if

When Twilight Strikes (Twine) is looking for beta-testers for the upcoming chapter. @evertidings

Magehunter: Phoenix Flame (CScript) is looking for official beat-testers for their final version of the game.

The new issue of the Amare Fortnightly Bulletin is out! Check it out here! @amaregames

Also released this week was the new issue of the Indiepocalypse, which includes a couple of IF games! Get it here! @pizzapranks

Polygon interviewed Julia Minamata, author of The Crimson Diamond, a retro parser recently released on Steam.

Brian Rushton (@mathbrush) released his book about a slice of IF History. You can download it for free here.

As always, we apologize in advance for missing any update or release from the past week. We are only volunteers using their limited free time to find as much as we can - but sometimes things pass through the cracks.

If you think something should have been included in this week's zine but did not appear, please shoot us a message! We'll do our best to add it next week! And if you know oncoming news, add it here!

~ MAYBE YOU NEXT? ~

We did not get a submission this week. But if you have an idea for a short essay, or would like a special space to share your thoughts about IF and the community...

Shoot us an email!

~ HIGHLIGHT ON ~

A couple of games that we thought were cool.

Your favourite game here?

Do you have a favourite game that deserves some highlighting?

An old or recent game that wowed you so much you spam it to everyone?

Tell us about it! And it might appear here!

WE LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU ALL! WHETHER IT'S GOOD OR BAD, OR EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN...

That was an amazing interview, with Jacqueline. I knew the IF community had been here for a while, but I didn't understand until now how long it was... And those answers! Is it weird I wished you has asked more questions? - anon

Have something to say? Send us a message titled: Zine Letter!

As we end this issue, we would like to thank:

the very cool and very helpful anonymous users!

For sending news, interview questions, helpful tips, cool links, filled form, written Sheet line, even emails... all these help us so much to make this Zine possible!

And as always, huge thanks to all you readers who liked, shared, and commented on last week's issue! What might be tiny actions are huge support and motivators to us! Thank you for cheering us on this journey!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

While we usually announce our next interviewee in this section, this won't be the case this week. We'll actually be taking a short breaks from our interview series. Don't worry! It will come back in a few issues!

In the meantime, go cheer your favorite author for us!

And see you again next week!

MARJORIE, AXELLE, NOI, BRIJ, DION, BEX

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? 2024-ISSUE 21

100 notes · View notes

honey-crypt · 3 months

Note

could i possibly get a fic about sebastian helping adhd!farmer through their rejection dysphoria? i leave the rest up to you, go wild <3

- 🪩

★ like the stream - sebastian x adhd!farmer ★

word count: 1.5k

warnings: rejection sensitivity dysphoria episode

summary: it's the day of the flower dance! you're prepared to ask your friend sam to be your dance partner when you're met face to face with a kind but otherwise hard rejection from the other party. Unable to cope with the rejection because of your RSD, you find yourself spiraling when another friend of yours, Sebastian, finds you alone and distressed in the depths of Cindersap Forest.

a/n: hi hi request #2 for my write-a-thon! hope this is an okay fic, i made sure to do some research on rsd and adhd (beyond my personal knowledge of it) for this fic :D

Today had to be perfect.

That was what you repeated to yourself, as you made your way towards Cindersap Forest for the Flower Dance. You double, even triple, checked that you had everything ready for today. It may have taken two or ten sticky note reminders, but you knew that everything was in the right place. Your outfit? Check. Your flowers? Check. Your confidence to ask Sam to be your dance partner? Check!

As you got closer and closer, the sound of upbeat classical music grew louder and louder. They should really install a better alternative to this, I don’t know George crosses this, you thought to yourself while crossing the bridge over to the festival. An open green space greeted you with the residents of Pelican Town scattered about. You exchanged pleasantries with your fellow townies, making a beeline to your friend group by a secluded corner of the festival.

“Hey (Y/N)!” Abigail gave you a small, half salute, “Didn’t think you were going to make it.”

“I lost track of time,” you confessed, “Nonetheless, I made it!”

Your two other friends, Sam and Sebastian, paused their side conversation at mention of your arrival. Sam offered you a dazzling smile that made your heart flutter, “(Y/N)! Good to see you!” and, much to your disappointment, he gave you a friendly side hug. You forced a smile in return and responded, “Yeah, for sure. I’m just glad I made it before the dance started.”

“Would’ve sucked ass if you missed it,” mused Abigail. Sebastian didn’t respond, staring silently at you. A frown graced your lips, What’s his deal? you questioned. Your chest, however, had a different reaction, tightening up at the sight of Sebastian’s deadpan. He’s probably just having a bad day, you reassured yourself, He’s not mad at you. He’s not mad at you.

“I’m gonna grab some of Gus’s drinks,” you perked up at Sam’s voice, “You guys got a preference for what?”

“Ooo, get me the Tulip Jubilee,” requested Abigail.

“The Blue Jazz Drop for me,” you eyed Sebastian when he spoke up. Sam looked at you expectantly, “How about you, (Y/N)?”

“Oh, uhhhhh…” you mentally thumbed through your options, “No preference, just grab me something you think I’ll like,” you adjusted your collar with your free hand, “I trust your judgement.”

“Will do!” Sam responded with a double thumbs up before leaving for the food and drinks table. You let out a deep sigh and fiddled with the flower in your hand, a small but homegrown tulip. Abigail quirked an eyebrow up at you, “Something on your mind?”

“Oh! Well,” you cleared your throat, “Just thinking about the dance.”

“Fingers crossed that you don’t have to dance with Clint like last year,” snorted the purple-haired goth. You grimaced at the memory and scanned the crowd for the aforementioned blacksmith, seeing him talk poor Emily’s ear off, “Anyone but him,” you grumbled.

“Which reminds me,” your friend directed her attention to Sebastian, “Dance partners this year?” to which the black-haired boy nodded quietly. You stared at him with narrowed eyes, Why are you so quiet today?

“Back with the drinks!” your blonde friend announced to the group, two drinks in hand and two held tight against his chest. Sam passed out the drinks and informed you, “I got you the Sunflower Tonic.”

You pressed your lips against the cup and took a sip, the sweetness of the drink evident, “This is good,” you let your friends know.

“Ew, mine’s too sour,” sighed Abigail, her lips puckered. She held her drink towards the group, “Any takers?”

“I’ll try it,” answered Sam. He grabbed the drink and sipped it, his face grimacing, “Yikes. Too sour,” before handing it in front of you, “Want a taste?”

You felt flushed at the idea of sipping the drink after Sam and seized the opportunity, accidentally taking a big swing of it. Immediately, you gagged at the taste, “Ugh! My tongue!” and spat out what little liquid was left in your mouth. Sebastian finally took the drink and drank it without any sign of sourness on his face, “Yeah, this is bad,” he stated, “I’ll stick with my drink,” the emo resumed his Blue Jazz Drop.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Mayor Lewis’s voice echoed awkwardly through his microphone, “The Flower Dance will begin shortly! Last chance to find yourself a partner!”

You heard the man, this is your last chance! you grasped your flower and waited until Abigail and Sebastian went ahead to pull Sam aside, “Hey Sam, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” Yoba, his sunshine demeanor was too much.

“Would you like to be my partner for the dance?” you held up the tulip. Sam’s sunshine self dimmed into a clouded version, “Oh, (Y/N), but Penny asked me to dance while I was getting the drinks. I’m really sorry.”

The sound of your world cracking rang through your ears, as you stood motionless in front of Sam, “Oh! I, uh…” tears pricked at your eyes, “I gotta go.”

Your surroundings began to blur and any outside noise turned into static, as you made your escape from the Flower Dance and deeper into Cindersap Forest. The bum bum of your heart and the swoosh of your blood pounded against your head.

I hate him.

He hates me.

No, he just made a promise!

No, he thinks you’re the worst!

It was like being trapped on a carousel, your thoughts and emotions spinning around and around. Soon, you found yourself by a small stream, laying on the ground by it with sprawled out limbs. Tears rushed down your face and you heaved dryly, as your brain failed to comprehend Sam’s words and intent.

Oh, (Y/N), but Penny asked me to dance while I was getting the drinks. I’m really sorry.

You sat up, nearly flinging yourself forward towards the stream, and started to bite at your nails, “He hates me. He hates me. I hate myself. I hate myself. I-”

“(Y/N)?”

You jerked your head to the left, Sebastian standing a few feet away from you. As he approached you, you hastily wiped your face with your sleeve, tears and snot staining the fabric, “Leave me alone,” you sniffled.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” he asked you, sitting down beside you with his knees to his chest. The tears resumed and coated your cheeks in the salty liquid, “I hate myself, okay?! I fucking hate myself, Sebastian!”

Sebastian tilted his head in confusion, “Why do you hate yourself?”

“Because I’m obviously such an awful person that Sam doesn’t want anything to do with me!” you cried out. Your friend frowned deeply, “(Y/N), you know that Sam usually dances with Penny at the Flower Dance.”

That made your blood steam, “I wanted it to be DIFFERENT, Sebastian! I wanted him to dance with me!” you heaved at Sebastian. He fell silent and fished out something from his suit pocket, a red tangle fidget. Your friend let it out to you and you snatched it without hesitation, fidgeting with it while you sobbed. You tried to get back to reality, but with each passing moment, the idea of returning to the present grew farther and farther away. Everything was hurting, your mind and your body, everything was hurting so much.

“I’m sorry that you’re hurting,” whispered Sebastian. You looked at him with watery eyes, “I can’t control this,” you admitted. He nodded quietly and held out a hand, to which you grasped and squeezed. Sebastian continued, “I know that these kinda things are a lot for you. I know that your mind is telling you a lot of awful stuff right now because of what Sam said, huh?”

“Yeah…” you squeezed his hand again. Sebastian added on, “I didn’t mean to watch, but I accidentally saw the whole situation go down. Sam looked upset when you ran away.”

“Well, he can shove,” you grumbled. Sebastian snorted and retorted, “He’s the one who wanted to check on you, but I told him that you seeing him while you’re in a RSD episode wouldn’t be that helpful.”

You moved closer to Sebastian and laid your head against his shoulders, “I hate my brain.”

“I get it, you’re not alone,” hummed the emo, “Isn’t this stream pretty, though?” he redirected your focus on the stream, the gentle rush of water humming against the swaying trees, “Maybe, just for a second, we can be like the stream.”

You closed your eyes and focused on the sound of the stream, envisioning yourself as one with the water. A sense of peace washed over you and you exhaled, still picturing yourself as the stream. It felt like an hour or so went by before you opened your eyes again, “I’m the stream,” you stated to Sebastian.

“You’re the stream,” he repeated back, holding you close, “You’re the stream," your heartbeat and breathing returned to normal.

"I'm the stream."

#honey crypt disability pride month write-a-thon #honey crypt fics #stardew valley #sdv #stardew #sdv sebastian #stardew sebastian #stardew valley sebastian #sdv sebastian x reader #stardew sebastian x reader #stardew valley sebastian x reader #adhd reader

113 notes · View notes

mitch-the-silly · 7 months

Note

Hi I’m new to your blog so I apologize if I requested anything wrong in this ask

Could I request a vox x reader where reader comes crying to vox and as he is trying to comfort her someone walks in which makes him switch up to kind and soft to mean and unfair towards reader at one point even pointing out her insecuritys on accident which makes reader cry more and kinda distance herself from him. How would vox feel and comfort ready after this?

Thanks and have An amazing day!

No no, it's ok! You'll find that I LOVE writing angst. It's honestly my area of expertise. And I LOVED this idea so much that when I was looking through my asks just now, I was like "Eh, lemme go to sleep" but I saw your ask and knew I could afford to sleep a bit later!

Anyway, mean Vox is very much real to me (mayhaps even canon)-

For extra angst, The one to walk in will be Valentino and some other Overlords (but mainly Valentino because I hate his goofy, bald ass).

Vox x fem!reader

Angst!!!

Warnings: Valentino (EWWWW)

"Roses are Made of Thons"

You felt distressed, only one person in this world could console you and you knew it. So you ran to his office and buried yourself in his chest. Your lover, Vox, held you close to him. He was caressing your face with gentle care. He was always so gentle and loving with you, so when he asked you what was wrong and you told him about your sorrows, you confided he’d keep to himself and help you.

“I… I tried my best, and I think I still look terrible! I mean, look at me… I just…” You sniffled, hiccupping from how desperate you were.

“Hey… hey… what did we say? I love you just the way you are. I think you’re cute, you don’t need to try to look good when you already look good.” He spoke, kissing your cheek.

“Really? Are you sure…? I just… I see all the models in your shows… and… I just…” You mumbled, tears threatening to stream down again.

“It’s just a show. And it's meant to appease those dirty fuckers who look like ugly fucking losers with absolutely zero contact with women. It’s not based on my standards…” He reassured you, kissing you again.

However, this would soon be gone, because the door to his office opened without a previous announcement, and storming in came Valentino along with some other overlords. “Ugh, Vox, I need you to settle something- Oh. Are you getting taken care of by your little putita?~” Valentino cooed at him, making fun of your relationship.

You knew he had a thing for Vox, and were very much aware he was salty that Vox had decided to be loyal to you. So it was obvious Valentino hated your guts despite you not really interacting with him.

“It’s nothing important, what do you need?” He smiled, wiping your tears and placing you on his lap. He held your head to his chest, trying to hide your lack of composure.

“Well, look, I had a few drug deals with these two, and I thought you’d paid them but- Vox… why is she moving like that?” Valentino paused, lowering his sunglasses and squinting at you attempting to see better.

“I already told you it was nothing. Are you gonna speak or not?” Vox scoffed, nudging you to stop it.

“She’s distracting me, Vox. Control your bitches or I’ll teach her how I control mine.” Valentino huffed, lighting his cigarette and rolling his eyes.

“Y/n, stop crying, I’m busy right now, go and cry somewhere else please.” Vox spoke, turning towards you, and pushing you off his lap. You tried to wipe your tears, but they kept rolling down your cheek.

Was this really what he was acting like right now? “V-vox but…”

“What is she even bitching about anyway? I bet it’s that outfit she had on. It’s not doing her any favors. I’d cry too if I was in that rag.” Valentino joked cruelly, the other overlords laughed… Vox did too.

“She’s just crying over her not looking good, cut her some slack!” Vox chuckled, and then he turned towards you. “Come on, I’ll get back to you once I’m done with this. Meet me in my room, sweetie.” Vox spoke casually, dismissing you completely.

You couldn’t believe it… he was just shoving you to the side. Giving you the cold shoulder over Valentino and the other overlords… He was making fun of you and even told them the one thing you told him not to say.

You felt hot tears roll down your cheek, and you ran out of the room. Ignoring Vox’s request to wait for him in his room. Matter of fact, you stayed in your own room for a couple of days, sulking, desiring to never see him again after what he’d done to you. You could hear him knock at your door, and try to make amends, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to open the door.

After a few days, you finally decided to come out of your room. Vox had been watching your hallway’s cameras for the past few days, and the second he spotted you out, he zapped to where you were.

“Y/n! Please! Can we talk?” He asked as you turned away form him, still mad at him.

“Please, I know I acted like an asshole, but… I just… If I showed them a soft side they weren’t gonna take me seriously! My whole business is a fake image of myself! If I don't uphold it, I'm fucked! My whole empire falls apart!” He cried out, almost groveling at your feet.

“You… you didn't have to tell them that about me… what I was insecure about…” You mumbled, tears threatening to creep in again.

“I know! And… I… I’m sorry, I was a fucking idiot and I was just feeding Valentino’s little games. I’m way too used to it, but I… I need to work on it, just please… Please don’t leave me! I fucked up, ok? I’m human, please don’t leave me over something I regret doing!” He pleaded, walking closer to you and taking your hand. Begging you for forgiveness.

“I… I need a bit more time… but… I accept your apology…” You mumbled, looking away. “Don’t do that again…”

“I won’t, I promise! I’ll give you your time, just… please don’t cut me off… The days you didn't talk to me were miserable… Please… I can’t live without you…” He begged.

“I heard you the first time… I’ll text you, don’t worry…” You mumbled back, reentering your room.

It was sort of a win for Vox, but he’d gotten too carried away. He’d already made sure to cuss out Valentino for his behavior. But he really had to get his life together. He just knew that if he pulled another one like this, he’d lose her.

#hazbin vox #hazbin hotel #vox header #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #vox angst #vox x reader angst #vox x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin angst #vox is just so bbg i swear #man-child vox is so real #man-child vox #valentino #valentino hate #valentino hazbin hotel

293 notes · View notes

lynzishell · 3 months

Text

The Past 💛 Atlas

I’m in shock as they announce the winners of the hack-a-thon.

I entered a couple years ago and didn’t do very well, but I’ve learned a lot since then, so I entered again this year out of curiosity, just to see how far I’d come. When I saw my score was significantly higher than before, I was satisfied and likely would have left before the winners were announced if I wasn’t waiting for Asher to finish in the gaming competition.

I stand with the small crowd of people that have gathered to watch the competitors as they jump and duck and throw virtual blocks, and I allow myself the opportunity to observe him. His expression focused. His movements quick and precise. I become so mesmerized that when my name is called out, I nearly jump, forgetting for a moment where I am. I look up at the screen to see the words “First Place: Atlas Stephens” and glance around for a while before realizing there isn’t some stranger who coincidentally shares my name, I won.

At the information desk, a bored teenager requests my ID and then returns it with a lackluster, “Congratulations,” and a slip of paper containing the details of where to pick up my prize.

I start making my way in that direction when Asher hops in front of me, “There you are!”

“Hey, how’d it go?”

“I got second place.”

“That’s great!”

“No,” he insists, “no, it’s terrible.”

“Terrible? Oh my god, you’re as bad as Lex.”

“Take that back. No one is as bad as Lex.”

I side-eye him incredulously, “Really? And yet you’re complaining about second place.”

“No, see, here’s the difference between me and Lex. If I had gotten, like, tenth place, I’d’ve been just fine.”

“I don’t get it.”

“If I come in tenth, then I know I didn’t stand a chance and I can let it go. But second? Now I’m going to spend the next twenty-four hours analyzing everything I did wrong or could’ve done better because any one of those things could’ve made the difference and gotten me first.”

“I see.”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

I shrug at him, “I guess I’ve just never been that competitive.”

“Interesting,” his tone is mildly sarcastic as if he doesn’t quite believe me but isn’t going to question me either, “How’d the hack-a-thon go then?”

“It was good,” I tell him as I fold the slip of paper into my back pocket.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re not going to tell me you won?”

I let out a nervous laugh, “I didn’t want to rub it in while you were pouting over getting second.”

“A: I wasn’t pouting. B: I am perfectly capable of being happy for you and feeling sorry for myself at the same time. I’m quite talented.”

“Right, I’ll keep that in mind in the future.”

“Good. So, what did you win?”

“A computer, apparently. Some fancy model called 'The Immersive Bend' or something."

His eyes widen in surprise, “No shit? I should’ve been a programmer. I’ve been needing a new computer forever, but they’re so fucking expensive I can’t bring myself to do it.”

“Do you want it?”

“What? No, that’s not what I was saying.”

“I know. But do you want it?”

“No. It’s yours. You earned it.”

“I don’t need it. I love my computer, I built it myself, I don’t need another one. I only entered to see how I’d do, I didn’t care about the prize. I was honestly debating about not even picking it up, but if you can get some use out of it, then let’s go get it.”

“You’re serious?” He asks before letting out a groan, “I don’t know.”

“Tell you what, then, I’m going to pick it up and take it to your apartment and leave it there. You can do it with it what you want. Sell it, use it as a footrest, or hook it up and enjoy it.”

He finally cracks a smile, “Oh, so, you’re inviting yourself to my apartment now? Y’know, if you want to hang out with me, all you have to do is ask. You don’t have to bribe me.”

I don’t know what it is about the way he’s looking at me that makes me feel so bold, but the words come out of my mouth before I can even attempt to hold them in, “Do you want to go back to your place and hang out for a bit?”

“Yeah. I do.” His response is quick and definitive, like he didn’t even have to think about it, making it difficult for me to hide the smile that is stretching itself across my face.

“Okay, well, we should stop and pick this thing up first because I’m still leaving it at your apartment.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

Prev // Next

#i just think they're so cute #fun fact: this scene is based on actual gameplay i did when i first created ash #atlas really did win the hack a thon and gift the computer to him #just a little piece of the game that i wanted to keep in their story cos i thought it was sweet #ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt4 #past #atlas stephens #asher goode

60 notes · View notes

satancopilotsmytardis · 7 days

Text

Drabble-A-Thon Prompt #16

Pairing: ShigaDabi

Rating: Explicit

Prompt: Freestyle!

Contents: Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys Under Clothes, Anal Plug, Cock Cage, Prostate Milking, Humiliation Kink, Orgasm Denial, Feminization, Lingerie

Dabi is going to kill himself and kill Shigaraki because Duster is pulling this bullshit, but he’s allowing it. He should absolutely not be allowing this, but he is anyway because the fucking big Detnerat/former-MLA Christmas party is such a big deal that they decided not to change it even though the organization changed hands. But it’s mostly corporate bullshit that he really can’t stand. This isn’t the kind of villainy that he knows how to deal with. His kind is the stuff that had him pounding the pavement every day and taking point on the summer camp job back in Kamino. Technically, he thinks that he’s supposed to think that it’s sweet that Tomura saw how uncomfortable he was with this party during the lead-up to it, unable to be excited about wearing fancy clothes, eating good food and the nice drinks that were going to be served, and dancing and whatever that the other League members started to crow about the closer they got to the event. Even Spinner, that absolute recluse, had gotten a little tentatively excited because he’d ‘never been to a party before’, which made all of the others want to ensure it was a good first experience for him, and left Dabi the only one who was absolutely miserable over this development.

But Tomura had noticed even though he hadn’t said anything, and had paused Dabi as he got out of the shower when he was getting ready, and asked if he wanted something to spice up the occasion.

He should have said no. Maybe also lit him on fire. But instead he’s standing off to the side of their large room that they use for announcements, lights, decorations, tables, and a band of their members on the stage this time instead of them, a million Twices running around as servers with appetizers, hoping desperately to not draw anyone’s attention. He really hopes that if he’s blushing through his scars, the other members milling about will just chalk it up to how many drinks he’s already put away.

He’s so distracted trying to keep it together, that he doesn’t even notice his lover coming up to him, until he’s catching his elbow and leaning in to whisper in his ear, “You look so distracted, baby girl.”

Dabi feels his face heat even worse. In any other situation he would have snapped at Tomura for calling him that, but right now, he doesn’t trust his voice not to crack, or to draw very unwanted attention to himself. So instead of saying anything, he just lets himself turn his head, half-hiding his face behind Tomura’s so that anyone else will think he’s whispering something to him, not letting out one pathetic, needy whimper, his body so hot that he thinks he’s going to fall apart or start smoking soon.

“Oh, princess, that bad already?”

Dabi manages another weak nod, and Tomura clicks his tongue, taking his glass from his hand and finishing it himself.

“Okay, we’re barely an hour in. Come on.”

Dabi would have sobbed with his relief if they weren’t in mixed company, and he has a hard time managing to walk normally and an even harder time keeping pace with Tomura instead of falling behind him or linking their pinkies together so he can pull him along like he normally does when he’s playing his baby girl.

Tomura takes him into a private room, off of the side hall, and as soon as the door is shut and locked behind him, he instructs, “Let me see, princess.”

Dabi feels like he’s going to melt, his hands shaking badly, as he undoes his belt and the black dress pants he was forced into. He doesn’t know if he could be more embarrassed over the fact that Tomura had to force him into a proper suit, but that he readily put on the red lacy thong that he’s wearing underneath, or the soft pink silicone cock cage that is small enough to ensure that not a drop of blood can try to make him swell so that no one would be able to tell that he was walking around so aroused that he’s dizzy. But he can’t help it. Not with the plug inside of him that is pressing just right against his prostate and making his cock leak in spite of the cage.

“Look at you, baby girl, such a naughty little slut that you like being so disgusting in public.”

He whimpers, trying to shake his head as the words make the pleasure already aching across his nerves even worse.

“Don’t lie, princess, I can see how wet your panties are. Turn around, baby.”

Dabi turns. Like the green room they waited in before their debut, this room has a coffee table, two chairs and a couch. He knows what Sir usually wants when he tells him to turn around, and he does so, bending over to brace his arms on the back of the nearest chair, spreading his legs. It was absolutely the right thing to do because Sir comes closer, one hand thumbing away the string of his thong so he can see the base of the plug nestled between his cheeks. Dabi knows the music and talking outside of this room are loud, so he is shameless as he moans when Sir eases the plug out and then pushes it back in, making sure to grind it against his hypersensitive prostate as he does it.

“Your pussy is always so greedy to be fucked, isn’t it, baby girl?” His voice is full of heat and Dabi hopes that means that he’s ready to fuck him, because if he fucks him, then Tomura will take them back upstairs and out of the party so that he can help him clean up and fuck him again.

“Always want Sir’s cock in my pussy,” he agrees, his body humming with a heady rush of humiliation and arousal.

Tomura clicks his tongue. “I know, but it’s not time for that yet. We still have so much more to do before we can leave, precious.” Fuck. He was really hoping that he could get out of here before some stupid speeches got made, and he whines at the thought of having to stay when he wants to leave, and wants to be fucked so badly. “But I can’t just leave my baby girl like this, otherwise you might sneak away to be naughty all on your own.”

He fucks the toy back into his hole, rubbing it against that sensitive spot again. Dabi keens, his thighs starting to shake.

“I’m going to help you be good for me for the rest of the night and earn your reward.” Tomura tells him, his voice a perfect growl in his ear. Dabi barely manages a,

“Thank you, Sir,” because he can hardly think. He would probably give up a week off and a whole day of Tomura playing with him until his brain is much and letting him stay deep in his subspace for all the time after, if he could leave the party now, but he can’t negotiate when he’s starting to be fucked with the plug properly.

Tomura is relentless as he works the toy against him, making Dabi’s walls tremble as each motion puts new pleasure and an uncomfortable, burning pressure across his nerves as his cock is kept tight in the cage, unable to harden. He keeps going as Dabi dissolves into louder and louder moans, the pain of that pressure getting so great that he’s scared that he’s going to start to cry which will be a whole mess to clean up and explain– until a sharp click fills the air. It takes about half a second before the toy starts to buzz inside of him, and that pressure snaps suddenly.

Dabi’s legs would have given out if Tomura wasn’t helping him stand, and he feels his cock twitch before he’s moaning as he’s milked.

Humiliation goes through him even sharper than the overstimulation as the toy keeps moving, when he realizes he’s going to make a puddle– only to look down and see that Tomura is holding the glass he’d taken from his hand under him, catching the thin white liquid before he can ruin his pants or anything else.

When the last drop falls into the cup and he’s nothing but a gasping, trembling mess, Tomura turns off the plug and takes the glass away, setting it on the coffee table. Dabi’s face burns, but he stays where he is until he has permission to move. Tomura gives him a kiss on the back of his neck.

“Straighten up, princess. We should go back out soon. I don’t want you to miss too much of the festivities. Besides, don’t you like to dance? You can show me how.” Evil. Evil, cruel, horrible, awful, and Dabi should dump him.

Instead he does his best to stand, still trembling, and looks down at his absolutely soaked panties, worried that if he leaves them on, he’ll leak through his pants. Tomura sees his hesitation and reaches for the sides, giving a tiny burst of his quirk to make them fall away from around his hips. He pulls the soiled fabric away and Dabi goes even redder as he takes them and tosses them on the table next to the glass of his fluids.

“Come on, princess, I’m sure you don’t want to be anywhere near this room when someone stumbles in here and finds that.”

It’s definitely a hell of a way to make him eager to rush back into the party.

Thanks so much for your participation! If you want to join in, there's half an hour left to get in a prompt! Check out my Ko-Fi here!

#shigadabi #my writing #drabble-a-thon

31 notes · View notes

tdinyomomma · 1 year

Text

The Big Sleep- TDI x Reader story (ch:three)

If you haven’t read: Two

An air horn goes off and Leshawna shoots up, hitting her head. "Ow! It's 7:00 in the morning. Do I look like a farmer to you?" She shouts out the window. I tiredly laugh, yawning. We all get dressed making our way outside.

"Morning! Hope you slept well!" Chris greets us. "Hi Chris, you look really buff in those shorts." Heather feeds into his already major ego, fluffing him up. "I know." He winks, snapping at her. "Okay, I hope you're all ready because your next challenge begins in exactly one minute." Chris taps his wrist. "Oh, excuse me, I don't know if that's enough time to eat breakfast." Owen speaks up, clearly in distress about it. "Oh, you'll get breakfast Owen, right after you complete your 20 kilometer run around the lake." He announces, pointing to the body of water in front of us.

"Oh, so you're funny now?" Eva raises a brow. "You know what I think would be funny-" Geoff and Duncan hold her back from getting at the host of the show who's completely unbothered. "Eva, try to control your temper." Courtney whispers but gets ignored, "You're enjoying this aren't you?" She raises a fist. "A little." Chris admits.

"You have 30 seconds." He taunts, pointing at his watch. I just start walking to the lake, Cody jogs after me. "What?" I ask and he just grins. "Okay... then..."

We get into a line. "Okay, runners! On your mark, get set, go!" Chris yells, I start off with a slight jog, not completely pushing myself here. Cody of course keeps up with me. "You're good at this." He compliments and at this point I just feel like I'm good at everything with how many compliments I'm getting and I do not need to feed into my ego. "So are you, Cory was it?" i know his name but I like messing with people. "Cody, but you can call me Cory. You can call me anything you'd like." Hey says and I mentally curse then run faster. "Hey, wait up!" He calls.

"Pick it up people! If you're not back in time, you don't eat!" Chris yells into a mega phone just like he did on the cliff. Only this time he's driving past us on a moped.

I roll my eyes, running past plenty of others with a bored expression. I was on my school's track team, this is nothing.

Cody and I make it into the lodge with DJ, we all sit together, catching our breaths and cooling down. All of us sat silently to calm down. I throw my head down, waiting for everyone to fill in the lodge. "Clear the table stat!" Owen bursts through the door, holding a knocked out Noah. "Oh, we made it." Leshawna crawls in as Owen is doing compressions on Noah.

"What took you so long?" Courtney snaps at Harold who's gripping onto his chest trying to breathe in and out. "I think I'm having heart palpitations."

"Hey, wait a minute. If they lost that means we won the challenge!" Gwen says, everyone stops what they're doing to cheer, even Noah wakes up from whatever he was in. "Whoa there! Hold your horses, guys. That wasn't the challenge." Chris says.

"What did he just say?" Gwen squinted her eyes, but disappointment was cut short when curtains I didn't even see were there open to a whole buffet table. "Who's hungry?"

"After a whole week of brown sludge, I almost cried when I saw that buffet." Gwen admits.

"And then I saw it, the buffet table. It was beautiful. There was Turkey and Nanaimo bars and baked beans in maple syrup. Could I have a minute?" He then pretends to cry, holding his head.

Everyone ended up stuffing themselves. I got disgusted by all the chewing. I ended up only eating a tiny bit before leaving the lodge. I sat outside until I heard Chris talk about how it's a two part challenge. Some awake-a-thon and being the last one standing wins invincibility.

We're all sat out by the fire and I just feel bored, not even tired. Maybe because I didn't eat as much as everyone else did.

12 hours in, Owen went on about being up but not even seconds later passed out. I laugh, taking out my MP3 Player and earbuds to listen to music but it was really just to eavesdrop or be peaceful.

"The awake-a-thon was definitely the most brutal thing I've ever done in my life." Gwen tiredly tells the camera.

"This is the most boring thing I've ever done in my life." Gwen says.

"So my strategy is to get two campers to form an alliance with me and take to the final three. The only question is, who can I find that is either desperate or dumb enough to do whatever I say?" Heather shares her idea.

Lindsay's now doing a handstand and one of my earbuds is now out of my ear. Because even seeing this I do not understand what this blonde is doing right now. "What are you doing?" Gwen asks her, I thank her mentally because I didn't want to be the one to ask. "Trying to get the blood to rush to my head. I think it's working." She says simply. "Can I try?" Beth excitedly questions. "Sure."

I turn to Leshawna. "I wonder how they're gonna go out." I chuckle and she snorts. "Heather will definitely take care of that." We both quietly laugh.

Cody looks up at me and waves, I do a peace sign back causing him to tiredly grin. "What's going on between you two?" Leshawna giggles, nudging me and I try not my best not to laugh. "He has some stupid crush on me. It'll pass." I wave it off as nothing.

"I know like 4 people that got some stupid crush on that girl. Wouldn't say I'm surprised though. Did you see the way she effortlessly ran today? Amazing." She perks up but then catches what she's saying and then stammers. "I mean... like she literally ran that without breaking a sweat it seemed. That's crazy."

Eva gets up to go to the bathroom. I turn back to Leshawna. "Do you have your eye on anyone?" I play with the string of my ear buds.

"Nah, we ain't here for all that." She was lying. I could tell by the way she holds herself. I raise my eyebrows and she nervously laughs. "I'm serious." I put my hands up in defense. "Okay, okay." I whisper. "What about you?" She brings it back to me, which I should've known was going to happen. I catch myself glancing over to Gwen then over to Heather but I shake my head. "There's definitely some attractive people here but I don't know about crushing." I hum, leaning back on the wood.

Now hitting the 24 hour mark I sat with Gwen, 9 of us awake and 7 of the Killer Bass. Courtney's running in place.

Tyler screams, jolting a few people up. "Congratulations campers. You've made it to the 24 hour mark. Time to take it up a notch." He uncovers a pile of books as Chef was wearing a pink lamb costume and holding a lyre? "Fairy tales."

"Oh he's not serious." Gen says. "I think he is." I roll my eyes and Chris clears his throat, opening a book. "Once upon a time, there was inside this boring kingdom... a boring village. And inside this boring, sleepy village, filled with very boring children who did very boring things..." Next was Chef spreading glitter in a tu-tu dancing ballet.

Dj tied himself straight onto a tree but knocked it down after instantly falling asleep. "Timber!" Gwen yawned.

Now at the 40 hour mark, 4 Killer bass and 7 of us remained. I'm not lying in front of Gwen. My limbs sprawled out. We're five now as Beth and Lindsay pass out.

"Okay, favorite song?" Gwen asks me, and I think for a minute. "Breaking dishes." I stretched then sat up. "Favorite color?" I ask. "Midnight blue, yours?"

"The rainbow, I couldn't pick any color then the others would be left out." I rant a little bit and Gwen awes at my answer right before yawning. I sprung into slight action, getting onto my knees and ankles shaking her jokingly. "Don't fall asleep. Okay, quick. Favorite movie moment?" I question her.

"You're gonna think it's cheesy." She says and I chuckle. "I might but hey mine's probably stupid." I assure her... kind of. "You might?" She laughs, "I gotta be honest." I smile as we both calm our laughter. "But seriously, no judgment here." I put my pinky up and she links hers with mine. "Okay, the kiss at the end of that road-trip movie. You know the one with the guy and the three girls?" My jaw drops. "Really? I love that movie." I gasp, grabbing onto one of her hands. "No way, people always call that movie stupid." And as I went to say something in response a naked, sleepwalking Owen walked in front of us.

Our eyes widen sharply before following over to see his clothes laid out on the ground.

"Did I mention that I ate the entire dish of baked beans and maple syrup? Funny thing about baked beans, they make me sleepwalk." He awkwardly informs the audience.

Gwen was now laying on her stomach as I stayed sitting up. "Wow, they sleep together too." I laugh and she tiredly smiles. "Even though this is to go all the way to just one person I hope we make it to the end together." Gwen yawns, I stare up at the sky humming in agreement. But if I'm being truly honest I know I can't get too attached to anyone. At the end of the day this is 100,000 dollars on the line.

Now we're both watching the stars, laying flat on the ground, her pinky linked with mine. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah, it's weird but I think I'm so tired that I'm not tired anymore. Does that make sense?" She explains, I yawn once again causing her to yawn too. "Definitely, but we can get through this. Think of how good not being eliminated will feel." I remind her. "True."

We then look for constellations again and really I'm just listening to her talk. It was quite soothing but as I'm listening I look around at the others. I notice Heather alone and staring at me. Since she's so tired her reflexes were slow so I caught it before she looked away. I smile to myself. "You still there, [Name]?" Gwen wiggles her pinky and I chuckle. "I'm right here." I assure her.

At 51 hours Gwen and I are now standing and watching Justin not moving, in some weird pose. "Look at him, he's like a statue. He hasn't moved in over 50 hours." Gwen points out and we both yell at him, making random noises but he doesn't even falter. "Amazing, look at the concentration." She compliments but I stare at him closely, rubbing the back of my neck once I realize his eyes are painted. "Aren't his eyes blue? Like menacingly blue?" I quiz, waving a hand in his face but Gwen actually pokes him in the cheek. His head shakes and his real eyes open. We both gasp. "

"His eyelids are painted, I saw it!" Eva calls. "Shut up! Oh, I've got to see this." Chris laughs, sprinting to Justin who smiles nervously, knowing he's just been caught. "That is so freaking cool," Chris admits. "But you're still out, dude." He walks away, the model slumps sadly.

Hours pass, hitting 84 and I don't even understand how we're making it this far. It's all worth it though to see Noah spooning Cody, kissing his ear. The two wake up screaming.

Now it's up to Gwen, Heather, Trent and I. "i'd kill for a coffee right now." Gwen tells us, I nod bringing my knees to my chest. I sat in front of Heather, besides Gwen. "What is the matter with you people?" Chris comes up to us with a coffee in hand, sipping it quite loudly. "Come on, fall asleep already," He whines.

Gwen crawls to his knees. "You gotta hook me up man. I'll even eat the grinds." She pleads with the annoying host. "All right, you six stay with me. The rest of you go and get a shower, for heaven's sake you stink!" He orders the losers and I sigh wishing I was them right about now.

"I didn't want it to come to this. I said that to Chef Hatchet last night. I said, "Chef, I don't want it to come to this." But darn it, these campers are tough. And so I've come up with the most boring, sleep inducing activity I can find." Chris announces to the camera or the audience- whatever. I'm too tired to think.

"Oh, Come on. What now? Okay, you know what? Bring it on." Gwen places her hands on her hips.

"The history of Canada." The red covered book pops open. "A pop up book." It was a beaver. "Chapter on: The Beaver, national symbol and a "dam" fine hat." He reads, we all groan but I can feel my sleepiness really kick in. Eva fell asleep and so did Heather.

Trent starts to fall back, Gwen and I try to save him but it is too late. "Damn." I shake my head.

"Time for a bathroom break. Any takers?" He asks us three.

"I've held it this long, Mouse and Sweetheart." I wince as he holds himself. "I can go all day." He tells us. "Yeah but can you hold it for ten more chapters?" Gwen Crosses her arms. That gets him to get up and make his way to the bathroom. "You've got 5 minutes." Chris tells the bad teen. "Long as you don't mind a little company." Chris adds the last part. "Fine but stay out of the stall." Duncan snaps at the camera man who nods his head.

Gwen and I sit down and she sighs. "I don't know how much longer I can do this." She groans. "Keep it up, Gwenny. You got this." I rub her arm and her face turns pink. "You too."

A cameraman gives Chris a paper. "We have news! It looks like Duncan's taken a dive on the can, which means the official winners of the awake-a-thon are Gwen-" She goes to fall face first to the ground but I catch her, bringing her up into my arms. "And [Name]!"

"The Screaming Gophers win!" Chris holds up our weak hands.

I stand up, throwing Gwen over my shoulder and carrying her to our cabin with as much strength as I can muster. Gripping onto the railing to steady myself up the stairs as she's knocked out cold. I whimper up the final stair, bursting in through the door and lying her down on her bunk before I end up collapsing on the ground, instantly falling asleep on the hardwood floor.

Four

Link to all chapters

107 notes · View notes

the-rewritten-railway-au · 9 months

Text

One or the Other

April 1925

Word Count: +9,110

An experimental rebuild of his class has arrived on the Island of Sodor, bought by the North Western Railway. He wonders if he'll fit in just fine with the other engines as problems begin to rise.

The sun was setting within the horizon, tucked behind the ocean. All of the engines at Barrow-in-Furness had returned to their sheds, except for two.

While both engines were classified as Lancashire and Yorkshire Class 28s, the only two of their class with Hughes Twin Plug superheaters and Belpaire fireboxes, they were quite different. One of them was an original Class 28, no modifications on them were found. The other was a rebuild, an experimental rebuild specifically. After a year of trial, he was deemed as a failed experiment.

Today was one of his last days before heading to the Island of Sodor, to the railway he was sold to.

"You're gonna love it when you get to Sodor!" chimed the smaller engine, as she noted her younger brother's mood. "It's lovely, I promise you."

The rebuilt engine let out a high-pitched wheesh. He hummed. "But you said that the engines there were straight-up sinister," he remarked.

His sister chuckled. "I meant the other engines on trial. Though two of the five were quite mean, I would ignore them if I were you, little brother."

"I'm much bigger than you!" he huffed. "...but, what about the others?"

"Oh, they're quite pleasant," she noted. "Though one of them might not be there anymore." She looked down. "There was an engine who sat in one of the sheds all the time. He barely went out."

"So he could've been…" James gulped a heavy cloud of steam, which slowly backed up his pipes. "Scrapped?" He wheezed out.

"Mhm," hummed his sister. "Don't let it intimidate you. It's just how it goes."

He stayed quiet.

His sister sighed. "I'm sure you'll do great, and you'll fit in quite well."

"...And what about you?" he asked as he looked at his sister.

His sister looked down. "Oh, I'll still be here." She whistled before chuffing away. "Who knows. We might see each other here every now and then."

"Here? As in Barrow-in-Furness?"

"Mhm," she stopped. "There are a few engines who come over from Sodor to here. You might be one of them soon." With that, she left.

The younger engine smiled warmly as the engine, the only one he could truly consider to be family, left. He looked in the distance and could barely see it but it was there.

The Vicarstown Drawbridge was raised up as if reaching for the limitless sky. Once it was let down in the morning, he would leave, and when he crossed over, he would possibly never come back.

…

It was shortly after lunch as four engines were being fired up after a good hour break and a quick announcement from Sir Bertram Topham Hatt II, the director of the North Western Railway.

A grand blue tender engine named Gordon huffed. "Edward, you will give this railway a bad name, just by rolling up there."

Henry, a grand green tender engine right next to him, asked, "They could be reckless. It's better if one of us goes instead."

An emerald-green tender engine, Emily, gave them a quick glare before shifting her attention to Edward. "What do you think they'll be doing when they arrive?" she asked, in hopes of deviating from the negativity.

Edward, a blue medium-sized tender engine, looked at the two largest tender engines and smiled. He softly chuckled. "Ye're forgettin wha mentorit the both of ye," he said, then glanced at the emerald-green tender engine. "Emily, I'm sure it'll be fine. I've been seein more goods trains than usual sae thon's most likely what they'll be doin."

Emily hummed. "That's true."

Gordon huffed and Henry grunted.

"Noo, noo," said Edward. "Please be nice tae the newcomer. It would be rude of us not to."

Emily whistled but the other two said nothing.

Edward rolled his eyes. "Let's get tae work, now. I'll see ye around!" he exclaimed as he chuffed away, continuing to work in Tidmouth Yards.

…

Within a few days, Sir Topham Hatt II had a workman from Tidmouth pass a message to Edward's crew, Charlie Sands and Sidney Heaver.

"The new engine has arrived," he said. "He's at Crovan's Gate Works."

Without any haste, Edward had his tender refilled of coal and water before getting onto the Main Line and heading towards Crovan's Gate. He hummed along the way as he huffed and chuffed down the line.

…

The rebuilt engine nervously rolled to a stop right next to what appeared to be a factory or repair shop.

"Is this it?" he asked his driver hastily as he observed the large brick building. The massive brick building had tall windows that were quite dirty, making it difficult for the engine to look through. He was curious as to what was going on inside, huffing in frustration.

"This is the place," replied his driver, Fred Quill, as his fireman, George Turner, patted at the curious engine. Just a few minutes ago, the engine had been fuming and crying after a not-so-pleasant farewell. It's as if the events that had taken place the day before had never happened.

Just then, Sir Topham Hatt II approached him, followed by two men dressed in blue coats and blue slacks. He dressed appropriately as any other railway owner would, in a full tuxedo with a yellow vest.

The newcomer was a medium-sized tender engine of two leading wheels and six 5'6" driving wheels. His livery was matte black, except for his buffer beams. On his cab was his number, 12556, painted in yellow, the same yellow used for the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway logo on his tender. Unlike other engines, he had a three-chime brass whistle sitting on top of his domed boiler. Across his face, at eye level, was a black stripe, with the number 12556 in white.

The black medium-sized tender engine looked at the man with his heterochromatic eyes of rich brown and lush green.

"Hello there! You must be James!" Sir Topham Hatt II exclaimed with excitement.

The engine jolted, and quickly looked away from the building. His heterochromatic eyes landed sight on the stout gentleman. He was confused. "Who?"

The Fat Director nodded at him. "You, James," he replied.

"P-pardon?" he asked, confused and nervous. He avoided eye contact. "I-I think you have the wrong engine, sir. I don't have a name. My number is twelve-thousand-five hundred fifty-six or twelve-five fifty-six, sir."

"Then you are James," the director said. "I gave you that name. Do you like it?"

James was shocked. Flabbergasted, he looked down shyly. Eventually, he replied. "I do, sir. Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome. Where are my manners? Welcome to the North Western Railway. I am Sir Bertram Topham Hatt the Second, the director of this railway. I expect you to become of good use," said Sir Topham Hatt II.

"Of course, sir!"

"Marvelous!" Sir Topham Hatt II said before looking around. Suddenly, he exclaimed, "There you are!"

James looked in the direction that the director was looking in.

Up ahead, a cerulean blue tender engine rolled in and came to a stop on the track to his left. The other engine was medium-sized, like he was, though a bit smaller, and had four leading wheels and four driving wheels.

Sir Topham Hatt II glanced at the blue medium-sized tender engine, smiling at the warm presence the locomotive brought with him.

Edward smiled at the new engine.

The director looked at James. "You will be working with one of the railway's most hardworking engines." He looked back at Edward with pride before gesturing from him to James.

The blue engine gave a quick hum before rolling closer to James. "Hello thare. Ma name is Edward," he piped cheerfully, his Scottish accent being quite thick. "What's yers?"

"James," the black engine replied quickly. He was still nervous.

Edward smiled. With a quick fweep, fweep!, he exclaimed, "Welcome tae Sodor, James!"

"Edward will be your mentor, James," said the Fat Director, gesturing James to Edward. "You will be working with him at the shunting yards in Tidmouth. Edward will guide you there." He turned to the blue medium-sized tender engine. "Edward, please make sure James is in line with the others. Keep an eye on him."

"Aye, sir!" replied Edward.

James followed. "Yes, sir!"

"Alright then. On you go! I will be checking on your progress by the end of this week, James."

Once Edward was turned around, the engines left Crovan's Gate and headed for Tidmouth Yards.

…

"Are you Scottish?" James asked meekly. They hadn't gone far away from Crovan's Gate when the silence became loud and uncomfortable.

Edward hummed.

James perked up. "If n-not, I'm sorry!" he quickly exclaimed. "It's just your-" His stuttering began to crack into his voice.

"Accent?" Edward said, interrupting the nervous engine. He chuckled. "I wis built in Scotland."

"And what railway do you come from?"

"I canae remember," Edward replied.

"Oh."

It stayed silent again.

"Ur ye an LMS original engine?" Edward asked.

"No. I'm a Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway engine."

Edward slowed down. "Lancashire and Yorkshire?"

"Yes?" James eyed the engine suspiciously.

"We had two engines come over from thon railway back in nineteen-twenty-ane," Edward replied. He hummed. "I was shed mates wit ane but the other ane wis allocatit at yon old Vicarstown Sheds wit the other ladies." He shook his frame. "One wis an L&YR Class Nine and the other wis an L&YR Class Twenty-Eight."

"I know that Class Twenty-Eight engine!" James exclaimed.

His loud voice startled Edward. "Eh?"

"That was my sister, fifty-five!"

Edward stared at James.

"W-What?" James became nervous all over again.

"Och, nawthin, nawthin!" Edward quickly reassured him. "Ye jist donnae look like yer sister…" He looked away, wincing at his own words.

James huffed. "I'm an experimental engine that was once a Class 28," he muttered bitterly.

"Och, och!" Edward braked harshly. "I'm sae sorry! I should'nae-"

James halted and backed down, lining up with Edward. "It's fine," huffed James. "How much longer to Tidmouth?"

"A while," replied Edward.

"Where is Tidmouth?"

"Oan the other side o the island!"

"What?" James exclaimed.

….

Tidmouth was very far away.

By the time the two engines pulled into Tidmouth Yard, which sat next to Tidmouth Station, dwindling towards the west, James was low on water and coal. Said engine could barely see it but from a distance, he saw what appeared to be the bay of the island. Not too far away and closer to him was a turntable.

"Here we are! Welcome tae Tidmouth," Edward exclaimed as he rolled into the shunting yard. James followed suit. "This is where we'll be workin for now," said the blue medium-sized tender engine.

James looked around the small yard. "And where are the goods trains?" he asked, confused.

"Och," Edward's lips strained, forming a thin line. "Well… aboot thon." He cleared his pipes. "The Fat Director wants ye tae do shuntin."

"Shunting?" The black medium-sized engine tensed. "But I'm a goods engine," said James.

"It's what he directed."

"But why? Do you not have any shunters?"

"We do."

"But where are they?"

"You're talking with the only one right now."

James' heterochromatic eyes slowly glanced over at Edward, meeting the other engine's brass eyes. The worry within boiled. "You're a shunter?"

The baritone of his voice threw Edward off, startling him. "Aye," he replied, tense.

"But you're a tender engine!"

"I ken."

"Tender engines-"

"Ur'nae meant tae shunt," interrupted the blue medium-sized tender engine. "But it's the Fat Director's orders. Nawthin I can dae aboot it."

"And you're the only one."

"Ye're jist goin tae keep askin questions, ur'nae ye?"

James backed away.

Edward took notice, alarmed. "It's no a bad thing!" He glanced at the yard, concerned. "But we have work tae dae."

"And it's shunting?"

"Aye! Noo, let's git tae it!"

…

Throughout the afternoon, both engines had some small chats. Edward spoke what little he could remember of the early days of the railway, adding his experiences with the other engines.

Despite the good things he was hearing, James was still worried.

"Do you think they'll like me?" James asked.

Edward hummed as he shunted some Troublesome Trucks to the end of a track. "They will," he replied rather bluntly.

"Oh." James wasn't convinced.

The blue medium-sized tender engine sighed with a warm smile. "Hey, listen. If they donnae like ye right away, give thaim time," he said as he backed away from the trucks.

Suddenly, a low baritone-pitched whistle was heard from a distance. The two had heard it multiple times throughout the day but this time, it got closer to them.

"Is that one of them?" James asked.

"Aye!" Edward replied. He backed up next to James in time to see a grand blue tender engine thunder into the shunting yard with empty coaches. "Come along, come along!" he piped to James, who followed suit.

The blue grand tender engine halted and hummed, observing the two engines approaching him. He focused on the new one.

"Are you the new engine?" The great blue engine asked.

"Yes, uh-" he swallowed a cloud of steam. "I'm James," James replied with a strained smile. He felt small, smaller than Edward.

Edward inched forward. "Why don' ye introduce yerself?" he suggested to the grand blue tender engine.

"Well then, hello. I'm Gordon, and I pull the Wild Nor' Wester," Gordon said bluntly.

"O' the afternoon!" added Edward.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Gordon," James responded, feeling tense.

"It was a pleasure as well." Once the grand blue tender engine was uncoupled from the coaches, he left.

"I'll get thaim, ye keep workin oan the regular freight cars," Edward said as he moved to the track where the coaches were.

James looked at the coaches. "Are those the Wild Nor' Wester coaches?"

"They are," Edward responded as he gently shunted them in place. "It's our passenger express service."

"Does someone else pull it? You said something about the afternoon."

"Aye. She's in charge o the Mornin runs."

James hummed curiously. "Do you get to pull it?"

"Mm, naw. No-"

Another whistle was heard. Though this time, it was a higher pitch than Gordon's. "Hello, Edward!" A voice hollered out.

"Och, thon's Henry!" Edward exclaimed. He looked at James. "This way, this way!" He chuffed backward. James followed.

"You must be the new engine. My name's Henry, what's yours?" a grand green tender engine asked as he rolled to a stop in the yard.

"I'm James," the black medium-sized tender engine replied. He liked Henry already. He's nice, he thought.

"It's nice to meet you. I need to get going. I'll see you around," said Henry before he whistled and left the yard.

James hummed. He asked Edward, "Is he the other engine who pulls the Express?"

"Naw, he pulls the regular passenger coaches an goods trains. Gordon pulls goods trains as well, thouch not often," Edward replied.

"Then who's the other engine?"

"Thon would be-"

"Edward!" An English-accented voice hollered.

"Emily, hello thare!" replied Edward.

"Did Gordon do the final Express run of the morning?" Emily quickly asked. She became excited when she noticed the unfamiliar engine next to Edward.

"He did. He juist left for his break."

"Good, good," Emily said in relief. "Now, who is this?" The emerald green tender engine inched closer to the two medium-sized tender engines.

"Gae on," Edward whispered to James. He backed up. "Introduce yerself."

"Hello, I'm James," said James. "It's Emily, right?"

"It is. Welcome to the railway, lad!" Emily replied. "Have you met the coffee pot engine, yet?"

"Coffee pot engine? The ones with the vertical boilers?" James asked, surprised and curious.

"Thae are the anes," Edward replied. "Thare's only ane left on the railway. He runs the Ffarquhar Branch Line, ane o the only operatin branch lines left. Still frequentit as it wis back then."

James hummed. "Do you guys work on the branch line?"

"Nope," replied Emily. "We work on the Main Line, which runs from here to Barrow-in-Furness."

"Oh. Will I be working on the Main Line?"

"Of course. In fact, you are right now." Emily paused when she noticed the lettering on James’ cab. "Welcome from the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway! Did you come from a railway before then?”

"Yes. The Lancashire and Yorkshire," replied James.

"Lancashire and Yorkshire, huh? Think we had two engines on trial from there, not too long ago…" Emily looked at Edward. "Have the other two met him?"

"They have. Shortly before ye came, thon is," replied Edward.

"Good. I must get going. Sir Topham Hatt wants me to pull the passenger train while Henry's gone. I'll see you two later!"

"Alricht, Emily," said Edward as Emily pulled away from the shunting yards. He looked at James. "Wid ye like tae shunt the passenger coaches?"

"Uh, sure," replied the black medium-sized tender engine worriedly. "Which ones are they?"

"The red coaches on the second tae last track."

James spotted the red coaches and went to work.

When he shunted the red passenger coaches into the station, he heard a little girl.

"Mummy, look! A new engine!" she exclaimed, pointing at James.

Her mother hummed. "It's like all the other engines," she commented with a smile.

James began to smile.

Finally, someone else recognizes that I am just like the others. Just as great. Just as useful-

"I don't see what's so different about it from the rest," the mother said, her smile disappearing. "Other than the eyes," she added, dropping her voice level. She looked down at her daughter and motioned at the passenger coaches. "Come on. Let's get on the train, dear."

The little girl simply followed her mother as James' heterochromatic eyes followed the pair. His eyebrows furrowed at the comment.

Despite the fire still going in his firebox and his water supply full, his boiler felt empty and cold.

So much for wanting to be like everyone else… he thought as he quietly puffed away.

…

It was evening when James and Edward finished with work. The two engines headed to Knapford Sheds, which were not too far. The other engines were already waiting for them, including the coffee pot engine.

On the way back, the comment from the mother had nagged at James, who tried to push it away.

"Glynn, guid evenin!" greeted Edward as he backed into the berth, along with James next to him in the no-longer empty spot.

"Good evening to you too, Edward," replied Glynn when he noticed the unfamiliar engine right next to him. "Hello there. You must be the new one around here, chap," he said.

James was no longer thinking about what happened earlier. He was staring at the coffee pot engine in awe. He'd heard about them but had never seen one before.

Glynn was tiny in length but was nearly the same height as Edward. His boiler pointed upwards and his livery was red, covered in a few scratches and dents.

"Oh, hello!" James greeted back, with a sudden rush of eagerness and curiosity. "I am. I'm James!"

Glynn chuckled at the reaction of the black medium-sized tender engine. He was used to it. His design was one-of-a-kind. "Hello, James. Welcome to the North Western Railway."

"Thank you," replied the black medium-sized tender engine.

"You're very welcome. I'm hearing you're around in the shunting yards for now."

"I am… Glynn, was it?"

"It is, lad. With Edward guiding you, you'll be fine on this railway."

"I hope so…"

"Is something on your-?"

"Can you please keep it down?" muttered Gordon from the other end of the shed. Henry, who was right next to him, was fast asleep. "Some of us are trying to get some rest. It's getting late."

Edward yawned. He had stayed quiet for the majority of the time, occasionally speaking to Emily, who tried to stay awake but had fallen asleep rather quickly. "He has a point," said Edward, with another yawn. "Guid night…"

Glynn looked at James. "We can chat tomorrow. Good night, James. Have a good rest."

"Good night, Glynn," replied James.

Soon, all the engines were fast asleep, with James looking forward to the following week.

…

A loud shrill rang throughout the sheds that morning.

The engines panicked, waking up with a startle. Henry suddenly moved backward, his fire having barely started. He bashed into the buffers at the end of the track.

"Goodness me, who was that?" he asked with sudden fear.

Someone nervously chuckled. All of the engines looked at James, who was about to leave.

"T-that was me…" replied James. "Was it that loud?"

"Well-" began Edward.

"Yes, it was," Gordon huffed. "With that kind of whistle, you'd certainly scare off the passengers."

"Gordon!"

The grand blue tender engine ignored Edward as he whistled and chuffed away.

"Dinnae-"

"Don't mind him, I know," James said, interrupting Edward. He brought his voice down to a whisper. "My sister told me not to."

"Did you say something?" Emily asked.

"N-no, I didn't say anything," James replied. "I'm on my way to the yards."

"Is yer whistle a three-chime whistle, by any chance?" asked Edward.

"Oh, it is," replied James. "It was given to me during my rebuild, 'as a gift' they said. I'm sorry for scaring you all like that."

"Donnae worry aboot it, James. Thouch it wid've been nice tae ken beforehand��" Edward reassured with a chuckle.

"Right, right." James chuckled nervously as he headed out of the sheds.

…

The next few days went by with ease, or they did so initially.

James had been making great progress. However, by halfway through the week, it was becoming quite sloppy, to say the least.

"Dinnae let them get the best of ye, James. They want engines up tae high doh," said Edward, reminding the black medium-sized tender engine.

James groaned. "'Up the high dough?""

"Flustered, upset… rile up an engine!"

He huffed. "That's troublesome."

The Troublesome Trucks continued to laugh. "No good engine, no good engine!" they chanted with boisterous laughter.

Edward shot a glare at the trucks. "Thon's why they're callit Troublesome Trucks," he said, looking back at James. "Ye'll neit tae learn hou tae deal with thaim properly. Sir Topham Hatt is hopin tae have ye pull yer first goods train by the end of the week."

"Why not now? I was a goods engine on my old railway," James asked as he finally managed to shunt the trucks in place.

"Most of our goods trains have Troublesome Trucks, thon's why not noo," replied Edward. "Sir Topham Hatt doesnae want tae risk ye gettin intae an accident for bein inexperiencit."

"Oh, right," replied James.

Edward hummed. "Och! Before I forget, Glynn is stoppin by for his break. He wantit ye tae shunt his coaches for him."

"Really, why?"

"I dinnae ken," said Edward. "He simply askit me tae tell ye."

"Alright…" said James. "Edward, I'm like the other engines, right?"

"Well, naw. We're all different from ane another-"

"I meant as in- Nevermind," huffed James, returning to shunting the Troublesome Trucks and leaving a confused Edward behind.

"Whit dae ye mean by 'as in?'" asked Edward as he followed the black medium-sized tender engine. "James?"

"It sounds silly but am I an engine? Like a real engine?"

"Of course, ye are," he replied, confused.

"Even if I'm a failed experiment?"

Edward was flabbergasted. "A failed-? Aye, e'en sae, James."

"That's good to know."

"Why are ye askin this? Is awthing alricht?"

James hummed. "...Do passengers often say really rude things?"

Edward's eyes widened. He sighed. "It's best tae ignore thaim." He began to chuff away, leaving the black medium-sized tender engine to ponder. "Nawthin we can dae aboot it."

…

Around the early afternoon, Glynn arrived at Tidmouth Station. After dropping off his passengers, he headed towards the shunting yard. James was waiting for him, just having arranged a goods train for Henry to take.

"Hello, Glynn," he said as Glynn approached him.

"Hello, James," said Glynn. "I want you to meet my coaches."

"Hello there!" piped up the first coach. "I'm Annie, and she's Clarabel," Annie said, smiling as she glanced back at Clarabel, the passenger brake coach.

"It's nice to meet you, James!" exclaimed Clarabel, as she and Annie were uncoupled from Glynn.

"Hello, Annie. Hello, Clarabel," greeted James to the auburn passenger coaches as he was coupled up to them from the back.

Glynn chuffed away. "I'll be near the water tank. Thank you, James!"

"You're welcome, Glynn!" James replied as he reversed. He thought about where to put the auburn coaches for the time being.

"We usually go in that shed over there," said Clarabel, noticing the pondering engine. She glanced to the left. "Where the red passenger coaches are."

James hummed as he reversed further and switched tracks to reach what looked like a carriage shed. It was at the edge of the shunting yard. As gently as he could, James shunted them in place.

"James, have you ever pulled coaches before?" Annie asked suddenly as a workman uncoupled her from James.

James sighed. "No, I haven't," he replied as he backed away.

"Would you like to one day?" asked Annie.

The black medium-sized tender engine stopped in his tracks. "Sorry?"

"Would you like to pull coaches one day?"

James was hesitant. "I would, but I'm a goods engine. I'm not meant to be pulling passenger coaches."

"Well-"

"You better get going, James. Glynn does want to spend some time with you," said Clarabel hastily, interrupting Annie.

"Oh right! See you in a bit!" exclaimed James as he chuffed away from the shed. He left to join Glynn.

"Goodbye, James!" said Clarabel frantically. Her franticness went unnoticed by James.

But not by Annie. "Clarabel, what was that for?" asked Annie.

The equivalent of Clarabel's eyebrow bone furrowed. "We can't be telling a newcomer such things, Annie. Besides, we don't know for sure. It's… just a possibility."

…

"...Henry refused to come out of the tunnel. An engine on trial almost got him out but he was being stubborn."

"Would this engine happen to be an L&YR Class 28?"

"Pretty sure it was. Do you know this engine?"

"She's my sister. Number two-forty-three?"

Glynn hummed. "Oh, I remember her. I didn't see her much, though."

"Then how did you know about that?"

"The other three told me about it. They'd seen how hard she tried, but Henry's strong. He wouldn't budge."

"Not one bit?" asked James, amused.

Glynn chuckled lightly. "Not one bit. So the board, including the old Fat Director, ordered for the tunnel to be walled up. He was let out eventually, but that was only because Gordon burst his safety valve and none of the other engines were available to cover for him."

"Wow," said James with a stale tone, though amused. "Even if Gordon hadn't burst his safety valve, Henry would have still been let out, right?"

Glynn stayed silent.

"Right?" Fear began to creep into his boiler.

"No," Glynn replied bluntly. "I don't think so. The others do, but I don't."

"O-oh…"

"It's been a few years since that happened."

"So it won't happen again?"

"No, I doubt it would," said Glynn, teeth clenched.

"Alright. So what happened after?"

"Everything went back to how it was after Gordon was fixed up, just like it is now."

"Nothing changed?"

"Nothing changed," Glynn replied. He heard footsteps. The red coffee pot engine looked in the direction of the sound and saw a group of men walking toward them. "That's my crew. My break's over. Don't worry about Annie and Clarabel, I'll get them myself."

"Oh, alright then. I should get back to work. Goodbye, Glynn!"

"Goodbye, James!" said Glynn as the black medium-sized tender engine left to return to his work in the yard.

…

"James? James!"

"Hm? Who's there?" asked the black medium-sized tender engine as he backed away from shunting a few cars into the siding. He saw the engine, who had been calling out for him. "Oh, hi, Gordon," said James.

"For how much longer are you going to work in the yard?" Gordon bluntly asked with no greeting.

"By the end of the week, I think," replied James, thrown off by the question. "Why?"

"Just curious," he replied. Gordon brought his voice down to a whisper. "You could be a replacement."

James froze. "R-Replacement? Who?"

"Edward."

"E-Edward?" James looked around frantically to find the engine. He managed to spot him on the other side of the yard. "What's wrong with him?” he whispered. “He seems to be just fine."

"Yes, but that's because he stays in the yard. Have you not noticed how he never leaves the yard?"

The question made James think. "He left once for a goods train to… somewhere, but I've only been here for a few days-"

"Edward's old," Gordon said bluntly. "He's been a shy steamer from the day he was built."

"I've never seen him have that issue…" replied James, looking down as he thought back to the past week.

“He never wheeshes because he just cannot steam enough to do that.”

"But Edward's a reliable engine. Sir Topham Hatt said so himself," replied James. "Besides, I was brought here to pull goods trains. I just… need to be ready."

"Sure," Gordon huffed as he rolled out of the yards, leaving a worried James behind, who recalled something his sister had said.

…

"Edward, when were you built?" James asked the blue medium-sized tender engine the following morning.

Edward hummed. "I canae remember… but I might be a few decades old," he replied. Edward noticed James' tense stance. "Is somethin botherin ye, James?"

"No, no. No… Actually, yes." He looked straight into Edward's eyes. "Were you the engine who stayed in the shed during the loans? The one who never left?

Edward was startled, but he still answered. "Aye," he replied, looking down. "But I did leave a few times."

"How many?"

"Mmm, five times?"

"A year?"

"The entire time."

James frowned. "And since when have you been here in the yards?"

"Since nineteen-twenty-three, when the Amalgamation happened. But I dinnae mind it. As lon’ as I'm no’ left in the shed all the time, I'm quite pleasit wit it," replied Edward with a pleasing smile.

However, Edward's words shook through James' boiler, and the smile of the blue medium-sized tender engine bothered James.

James watched as Edward went on with his work. "And what about the Troublesome Trucks?" he asked. He had become more annoyed with them since he arrived, growing tired of their mockery.

"Whit aboot thaim?"

"How can you handle this job? Dealing with those Troublesome Trucks?"

"Well, ane, I enjoy it. An’ two, it takes time."

"You enjoy it?"

"Aye, an’ thare's nawthin-"

"Yes, there is!" James yelled.

Edward was startled but his eyebrows furrowed.

"How do you not want to lose it with those trucks?" He huffed. "I'm ready to shunt one off the rails."

Edward hummed. "I am patient wit’ thaim."

"Don't you wish you could do something else?"

"Well, it wis either this or tae be lockit up in the sheds," replied Edward sternly. "An’ I wid rather no’ be sittin in the sheds, deterioratin’ over time." The blue medium-sized tender engine moved away, continuing his work.

James had an idea.

"How about we travel along the mainline?"

Edward stopped. "Pardon?"

"Travel along the mainline. You said you've been here for quite a while. That means you barely go on the Main Line, right?"

"Well, aye. But like I said, I like workin’ in the yard. It's not much but it's nice," replied Edward, getting a bit worried.

"Then let's go on the Main Line!" James exclaimed. "We can chuff around for a bit!"

"Ye're off yer smokebox!" Edward exclaimed. "We're supposit tae stay in the yard. Orders frae the Fat Director!" Despite his own insistence, the offer to leave was tempting.

"He won't find out," said James. "Lighten up a bit!"

"Aye, he will," Edward said sternly.

"It'll only be for a bit!"

"Doesnae matter!"

"Please! The others have just left. No one else should be coming back, right?"

"No’ for a while," replied Edward. He looked up. "Emily jist left wit the Express, Gordon is gaun’ae tae Vicarstown tae deliver a guids train, and Henry is pullin the regular passenger train before headin’ tae the docks wit a guids train from Barrow-in-Furness."

"Then we aren't disturbing anyone."

"An’ the yard?"

"It'll be fine! It'll just be for a bit! Please!"

Edward frowned but then sighed. "Fine. It daes sound nice, but I dinnae like the idea o’ leavin' wit'out Sir Topham Hatt knowin'…"

"Don't worry! We'll be back shortly!"

…

And back shortly, they were. They had spent less than an hour traveling from Tidmouth to Wellsworth, before turning back.

As they approached Knapford Junction, Edward struggled to see the signals. He squinted, solely focused on the signals that he didn't notice Gordon coming from his left.

Gordon whistled loudly, startling Edward. "Edward! Watch out!" He exclaimed.

"Och!" Edward exclaimed as he pushed on his brakes. He braked in time, missing Gordon. "Gordon! I'm so-!"

"Edward and James!"

The three engines at the junction gasped as they saw the small chubby director storm over to them.

"Gordon, get back to work. Now," he said sternly.

"Of course, sir!" Gordon quickly replied as he chuffed away to Tidmouth.

"You two. The station, now!"

"Y-yes, sir!" exclaimed James.

"Aye, sir!" exclaimed Edward.

The two quickly chuffed towards Knapford Station, leaving the director behind to follow them.

Once the engines settled in the station, Sir Topham Hatt II spoke loudly and sternly at them.

"Edward and James, where have the two of you been?" he asked, raising his voice.

James panicked. "We were on the Main Line, but we didn't go far before coming back, sir!"

"Not far? You're not supposed to leave the shunting yards, the both of you know that!" the short and chubby director exclaimed with fury. He looked at Edward. "Especially you."

"I'm really sorry, sir. James really wantit tae gae, and I agreit. I really wantit tae wander around. Jist for a bit," Edward quickly exclaimed.

Sir Topham Hatt II sighed. "I can't say I'm not upset or disappointed, especially with you, Edward. From now, you're both staying in the yards. You are not to leave unless I say so, understand?"

"Aye, sir."

"Yes, sir," the two medium-sized tender engines replied in solemn unity.

"I hope you do. I'll come back next week instead. Clearly, you both need to learn and behave." Sir Topham Hatt II said sternly before walking away. He shook his head in disappointment, leaving the two engines to think about what they'd done.

…

The following day, James was listening to another of Glynn's stories. This time, it was about the old days of an old railway: The Tidmouth, Knapford, and Elsbridge Light Railway.

"... they were such great engines. Sadly, the first one didn't make it past the beginning of the century and the other was scrapped in nineteen-twenty. The other engines were scrapped by then, so it was just Edward and me. Thankfully, Emily, Henry, and Gordon have come along, and now you have as well." Glynn sighed. "You've been quite helpful since you got here."

"Mm. I'm glad I am," replied James.

His flat tone worried the red coffee pot engine. "You know, you've been quiet for most of the morning and I've noticed you've been ignoring Edward. Is something going on, chap?" Glynn asked.

James looked down, staying quiet.

"It's about yesterday, isn't it?"

The black medium-sized tender engine sighed. He continued to look down at his black running board. "Do you think Edward's mad at me?"

Glynn hummed. "He isn't one to stay mad for long. Talk to him."

"Alright…" James looked at Glynn. "Who were the other engines? Were they from other railways?"

"Well…" Glynn hummed. "There was a tender engine, along with two tank engines from the old Wellsworth and Suddery Railway, and two box-tank engines from the Sodor and Mainland Railway." He squinted, looking down in thought. "Actually, one of the box tanks might still be around here somewhere."

That piqued James' interest. "Really?"

"Maybe. I just don't know where. The tender engine was responsible for leaving them on a siding… His name was-"

"Glynn! Break's over!"

Both engines looked in the direction of the sound. It was Glynn's driver, Gilbert Perkins.

"Alright, Mr. Perkins!" Glynn exclaimed. As Gilbert climbed into Glynn's cab, along with his driver, Glynn looked back at James. "Talk to Edward about it. It's the only way to know." He whistled a farewell and left to pick up Annie and Clarabel for his afternoon run.

James stayed behind in the empty and lonely area of the Tidmouth Yards.

He has a point.

…

It was easier said than done, James thought to himself.

For the past few days, he struggled to talk to Edward but managed to speak up to him, days after his conversation with Glynn.

"Edward…?"

The blue medium-sized tender engine looked back at James. "Hm?"

"Listen, I'm… I'm sorry."

Edward lifted an eyebrow. "For?"

"For making you leave the shunting yard. It got you in trouble and-"

"I'll stop ye richt thare," Edward interrupted, as he backed down to be right next to James. "Ye dinnae make me leave the shuntin yard. I chose to leave wit ye," he explained with emphasis.

"But still-"

"We're both tae blame for whit almost happenit," said Edward. "I actit upon my temptation an ye acted upon yer naivety."

"Naive?" said James offensively. "What do you mean 'naive?'"

"As in, ye dinnae know any better," Edward bluntly replied. "Thon's all."

James frowned.

"Och, thon reminds me. Sir Topham Hatt is comin’ tae see ye in a bit about yer first goods train later today," said Edward.

"What, why? Is there something else I need to know?"

"I think so," replied Edward. His eyes drifted to something elsewhere. He caught a glimpse of the man in question. "He's comin' this way. I'll continue work in the yard," he muttered as he quickly chuffed away.

Sir Topham Hatt II soon reached James. "There you are, James. Now, I came to remind you about the goods train you're taking today. Do you remember where and where?"

"From Brendam Docks to Vicarstown, sir?" replied James.

"Correct. Now, I need you to be careful. From what I've heard, you are capable of handling the Troublesome Trucks but please be cautious, alright?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Excellent! Now, please go to the Crovan's Gate Works," he said, smiling. "Welcome to the North Western Railway, James, our number six engine. I look forward to hearing good reports on your first run."

James gasped with joy. "On it! I won't let you down, sir!" he replied with determination and happiness as he left, smiling, to continue his work.

…

It was the late afternoon of that day when James arrived at Brendam Docks. He rolled in with the number 6 painted on his tender.

He was quite surprised to see how empty the docks were.

There was only one crane at the docks, doing all the unloading. James thought he saw a weird shape, a face of some sort on the crane. But it was too dark to be sure with the sun setting.

James wanted to say "hello" but decided not to. For all he knew, the crane probably had no face. I would make a fool of myself, he thought.

The black medium-sized tender engine was switched over to be able to back up into the goods train. A workman in the docks approached him, coupling James up to the goods train. He gave a quick thumbs up to Fred, James' driver.

"Alright, we're ready to go!" Fred hollered out for James to hear.

James' three-chime whistle rang throughout the docks, startling a few of the workers, before chuffing away.

…

James arrived at the Vicarstown Yards without any problems. The Vicarstown Station was there, which only consisted of platforms, and the abandoned Vicarstown Sheds were nearby. Gordon was there with Wild Nor' Wester for the afternoon.

Fred and George climbed out of his cab, walking towards the smokebox of the black medium-sized tender engine.

"We had a very good first run, didn't we, James?" asked Fred with pride.

"Everything went fine. There's nothing wrong," James replied, a bit thrown off. It still caught him off guard when someone asked for his opinion. "Yeah, it went well."

His crew chuckled, hiding their solemn feelings for the engine.

Fred Quill and George Turner were transferred over to the North Western Railway with James. While George wasn't married or had any family living with him, Fred did. Thankfully, his family agreed to move to Sodor, with special transportation provided by Sir Topham Hatt II to help with the move, having Emily be of assistance for both crewmen.

From their time on the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway, they had seen the trouble James went through as an experimental goods engine after his rebuild, especially with most of his siblings. And especially on the evening of James' last day on the LMS.

Suddenly, one of the workmen in the yard called out. "You may leave now! Emily will be coming by to take it from here!"

Without wasting any time, the crewmen climbed into their engine's cab and left the yard.

…

The following morning, James was the second to last engine to leave the sheds for work when he saw Henry in his berth.

Henry was usually the first to leave. However, the grand green tender engine looked ill. Too ill and tired to move.

"Henry? What's wrong?" asked James quietly.

"I'm having boiler problems again," replied Henry solemnly. "It happens a lot. I'm used to it."

"Since when have you had them?"

"When I was built. The old Fat Director was quite upset when he realized it," Henry replied.

"Can't they do anything to fix it?"

Henry shot a glare at James. "Not after they bought you," he snapped with sudden bitterness. "They said it was too expensive." He squinted at James. "Yet, his first investment was you."

James was thrown off. He hadn't interacted much with Henry but he had initially taken a liking for the grand green tender engine.

"I-I…"

"Just get to work," said Henry. He looked away with a frown. "If you're replacing anyone, it better not be me. Might as well replace Edward or Glynn. I've worked too hard for this railway, for goodness sake."

James stayed silent and left.

If you're replacing anyone, it better not be me…

…it better not be me…

Fred and George began to worry. "Let's go refill on coal and water, chap," said Fred, patting his engine’s cab.

As the black medium-sized tender engine chuffed away, Henry scowled and James could feel it be directed to him.

He felt extremely uncomfortable so he picked up the pace to quickly leave Knapford and head to Tidmouth. His crewmen hollered at him.

He could just use the coal hopper and water tower in Tidmouth Yards.

…

That afternoon, Henry passed through the yard, searching for his goods train. He was able to start running once again and, with enough convincing, Sir Topham Hatt II allowed Henry to pull his goods train to Barrow-in-Furness.

He looked around until he found a long train of trucks full of crates and tarp-covered trucks. Henry smiled at being able to find it as he backed down the front of the train. Nearby was James.

James was preparing a set of trucks to take to Brendam Docks when he saw Henry. He felt tense at seeing him, promptly attempting to ignore him.

Attempting.

"Afternoon, James," said Henry.

"Hi, Henry," James replied swiftly, with a frown.

The grand green tender engine frowned as well. "Listen, I'm sorry about-."

"I don't want to replace anyone," James said suddenly, interrupting Henry. "I didn't come here to replace either of you guys. I was brought to help you guys." James huffed. "Glad they did…" What are you doing? "b-because you don't even do anything!"

"A-Anything?" huffed Henry. Now it was his turn to be thrown off as he fumed. "I work hard for this railway. I push myself to my own limits to get a single job done. I may have been defective, but at least I was appreciated, compared to the failure of an experiment you are!" His crew pulled on the brakes out of fear, locking him onto the track.

James was thrown off as Fred and George tried to soothe him. "How did you-?"

"I remember your sister, alright. The L and YR Class twenty-eight engine? Works number two-forty-three. The one who tried to get me out of that tunnel. I saw her at Barrow-in-Furness before you came here. In fact, I saw you there with her."

The black medium-sized tender engine stayed quiet.

"If you want to be worth the Fat Director's money, you better get going on those trucks, mate," said Henry with a scowl. "I'm leaving." With that, he whistled, announcing his departure from the Tidmouth Yards.

Fred jumped out of James' cab once Henry left, rushing to the front of the engine. James' cheeks burned, turning black as his boiler boiled and bubbled.

"James? Lad? Hello?" Fred called out.

They heard chuffing approaching them.

"W-what happened? James?" exclaimed Edward. He had been on the other side of the shunting yard when he heard a loud, distressing commotion. The blue medium-sized tender engine had seen Henry leave hastily.

"Hey, Quill. You guys alright?" hollered out Sidney Heaver, Edward's fireman as he jumped out of the cab, towards Fred.

"We are, but James isn't," replied Fred, slightly distracted as he tried getting James' attention. "Come on, lad!"

"James? James!" exclaimed Edward.

James wouldn't budge.

An idea came to him. "I'll see if I can find Glynn. He might be just the engine to bring him to." He whistled and chuffed away once Sidney climbed back onto Edward, leaving Fred and George with James.

By the time Edward had found Glynn, it was dark. Glynn had just returned from his final passenger run. Edward quickly shunted away Annie and Clarabel, with the usual gentle care.

But when they arrived, James had disappeared. He had left with his trucks for Brendam Docks.

…

The next day, Emily chuffed up to James, shortly before it was time to pull the Express.

"James, are you alright? I heard what happened yesterday," said Emily.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm alright," he replied.

Emily hummed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I just needed some time to think alone, that's all."

"Right…" said Emily. "Listen, if you want to talk, just know that I'm here. So are Glynn and Edward."

"Thanks… Um, Emily, is there something wrong with Edward and Glynn?"

"No… Well, Edward has steaming issues but not severe enough to prevent him from working, and Glynn has broken down a couple of times," she replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Nothing, just wondering."

"I know you're lying, mate," Emily said bluntly. "Did someone tell you something?"

James looked away and frowned.

"James…"

"Yes…"

Emily sighed, having a good idea of who it was. "Bother. Don't listen to them. They don't know Edward and Glynn as much as I do. Those two are troupers."

"Will the Fat Director replace either one of them?"

"He would never, unlike the board," she grumbled.

"The board? They make the final decisions, don't they?"

"They do, somewhat, but they struggle because of the Fat Director. It takes a lot for both to agree, and that doesn't happen often from what I hear."

"And if it does, when it comes to… replacing?"

"Then… it does."

…

Since that day, James has stayed quiet. Extremely quiet. He didn't like Emily's solemn tone. It bothered him, nagged at him as if a workman was scraping his firebox empty.

His sudden mood change did not go unnoticed but the attempts to speak to him were fruitless, except for Glynn.

"Glynn, there really is no way of escaping being scrapped, is there?" asked James.

The red coffee pot engine sighed. "I'm afraid so. In the end, we will be scrapped. The question isn't if we will be scrapped, it's when we will be scrapped," he replied solemnly. "What brings this up?"

"I just have a lot on my mind…" said James. "I miss my sister."

"You always mention your sister, young lad," said Glynn. "You have other siblings, right?."

"I rather not," said James bitterly. "They were nothing but rude to me. Just absolutely profane." He glanced at Glynn, glaring at the thought of them. "Twelve-five fifty-five, two-forty-three before the Amalgamation, was the only one who respected me after my rebuild. She actually treated me the same way she would treat others."

"My apologies. I didn't mean to set you off," said Glynn.

"It's fine… I'm sorry for responding like that," James replied solemnly.

"We're just really worried about you, James. You weren't… rude when you arrived," Glynn said bluntly. "And you've been acting quite odd."

"I need to get going," replied James. "I have another train to pull from Brendam."

The red coffee pot engine sighed. "Alright then, lad. Take care on the job! I'll see you later!"

James smiled. "Thank you! I'll see you later!" he exclaimed, with a sudden change of mood.

…

"James? James!"

The black medium-sized tender engine jerked awake. "Huh?"

"The Fat Director wants to speak with you," said Emily, who was on the turntable next to the sheds. "There's a little platform in Tidmouth Yards. His office is right there." She whistled. "Goodbye, see you later!" she exclaimed hastily.

"Ah, goodbye!" James exclaimed. He heard snoring to his left. There was Glynn.

That's weird, he thought. Glynn is usually off to work by now…

Not wanting to disturb the coffee pot engine, the black medium-sized tender engine left quickly and quietly.

…

The trek to Tidmouth Yards was uncomfortable and quiet, an appropriate feeling for James at the moment.

Since my rebuild, I wanted to be like every other engine, he thought to himself as he headed to the platform. But after that… I don't think I want to be like any engine. I want to be unique. I want to be different. I want to be special, but still, be a really useful engine.

Sir Topham Hatt II spotted the approaching engine. "Good afternoon, James. I have something special for you," he said once James came to stop at the platform.

"What is it, sir?" asked James.

"Starting tomorrow, you will be going on a trial," Sir Topham Hatt II told him, his voice becoming stern.

"A trial, sir?" James asked, worried.

"I'm putting you on trial on the Ffarquhar Branch Line," said Sir Topham Hatt II. "You will be running the passenger service for that line."

James was shocked. He gasped. "A passenger train?" James asked nervously.

"Yes, a passenger train. That branch line is one of the only operational lines that we can afford right now, and many people from the south of Sodor depend on it. Don't let us down, James," he said sternly. "Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, sir! I won't let the railway down. I will do my very best."

"You better. Go on with your work now."

"Yes, sir!" replied James. He whistled and chuffed away from the platform, leaving Tidmouth Yards.

…

"I heard ye were put oan trial oan the Ffarquhar Branch Line," asked Edward that afternoon in the Tidmouth Yards.

"Yeah, and?" James asked defensively.

Edward looked ahead, staring blankly at the landscape ahead. "I jist wantit tae say, congratulations," he replied. "I forgot tae say this the other day, but welcome tae yon railway, number six."

"Well, thank you very much," he said. James gestured toward his number. "Took you long enough."

Edward hummed. “Sorry, jist been busy, thon’s all.” He yawned. "I'm gaun'ae get some rest. I'll see ye later," he mumbled as he chuffed away.

There was no response from James, as he was thinking, Twelve-five fifty-five, you were right. I did fit in just fine…

I think.

It was a peaceful summer morning on the Island of Sodor, and today was James' first passenger run.

He was going along the Ffarquhar Branch Line when he heard an unfamiliar whistle. An engine, a stranger, approached right next to him.

When he looked over, he gasped and braked so suddenly. Sparks flew from his wooden brakes.

The engine had no face.

James recognized her from the many stories he had heard on the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway. The very vivid description going through his mind.

"Lady?"

"Indeed I am, James," Lady replied.

"W-What are you doing here?" James asked.

"I am here to simply tell you one thing."

"What is it?" he asked. An odd fear began to boil within him.

"It's one or the other, James. One or the other…" chanted Lady.

She continued chanting when another voice joined.

James looked ahead to see an engine that he knew all too well.

"One or the other," the L&YR Class 28 engine chanted with Lady, looking into James' eyes with no emotion. She was going backward on the track.

"T-Twelve-five fifty-five?" asked James nervously, his voice wavered.

"You see? You fit in just fine! It was one or the other, and you've gone for one," said LMS 12555 so uncannily. "You even have a name! James. What a splendid name for a splendid engine."

"I-I did!" he replied, trying to ignore the uncanny feeling that lingered in the air. "M-maybe one day, you'll be here with me! We can have a peaceful life on Sodor, sis!"

LMS 12555 frowned while Lady continued to chant in the background, "One or the other. One or the other. One or the other…"

At the same time, the space around them changed, and everything deteriorated. It became a black void with the tracks being the only thing in existence.

"But James… it's one or the other…" she said as she began to deteriorate and fade away.

Before James could say anything, a sudden glow enveloped Lady. Within seconds, a golden light flashed, blinding a stunned James, who had a sad face of realization.

James woke up, heavily panting. He looked around in the darkness of Knapford Sheds. He looked to his left.

Glynn was gone. He hadn't seen him since yesterday morning.

It's one or the other… James thought to himself as he began to panic. He squeezed his eyes shut as the phrase repeated itself in his mind.

One or the other…

18 notes · View notes