hazel-of-sodor

[hazel-of-sodor]

A new eengine tonight, the C&HR class 25 2-10-2T! Shes a bit of a mutt, 1MT, cab and bunker, Black Five boiler, Modified ROD 2-8-0/ GCR 8K (C&HR Class 5 & 19) Frames, Modified Black Five cylinders....

In Universe, the C&HR bought a spare Black Five boiler from BR in 1961 as a spare for their members of the class. To their suprise and Dismay the boiler that arrived was not an inert piece of metal, but an awake engine, or what was left of them. 45401 (former LMS 5401) had been the first Black 5 withdrawn, after a collision at Warrington. The railway's works were ordered to restore 45401 to operational condition . In their dismay, the Railway board forgot to specifiy Black Five condition, and the works (after asking 45401's permision) seized upon the chance to build a new locomotive class.

Emerging in 1962, the rebuilt 45401, now renumbered No. 25, emerged as a powerful 2-10-2T meant for Banking and Heavy Freight, althought they can be often be found on excursion trains during the summer rush.

[hazel-of-sodor]

*sniffles as she holds gently in her hands*

Shes so cute

smolly (smol molly)!

[hazel-of-sodor]

You know what? No. I'm defending Sir Handel. He is not at fault here.

Did he act sick to get out of a day's work? Yes. But is that any different than someone playing sick to miss school, or calling in sick to work when your not?

The trucks mistake Peter Sam for Sir Handel but...heres the thing. They still decided to attack an engine. If you hit someone, only to be like, "my bad I thought you were someone else," you still were the one to attack them. No one's gonna care that you thought they were someone else, only that you hit them. So Sir Handel was rude to them? Someone being rude to you doesn't allow you to assault them.

Also...are we really going on the word of trucks? The troublesome trucks? The wagons known for causing accidents just because they felt like it?

Edward, golden retriever of an engine he is, likes sneaking up and trucks and bumping them. What are the odds that Sir Handel being rude to them, was just what it took to keep them behaving?

Can Sir Handel be a right prick at times? Yes. But also, we're told hes a prick, and so we look at him already bias against him. Like lets be honest, the NWR big three have done *so much worse*.

I get the impression Awdry's personal bias often influenced how he wrote about the events, and therefore our perception.

Sir Handel (in this case) is innocent, and the trucks are guilty.

Sir Handel has no right to be as cute as he is. I still haven’t forgiven him for how he got Peter Sam hurt. Peter Sam may forgive, but he’s got a kinder soul. My soul is filled with vengeance and anger.

Look at him! He knows what he did! Small blue sneaker-looking thing. He looks like he’s expecting a sticker for doing a good job. Do NOT give him one! 🫵

[hazel-of-sodor]

the current wip, Talyllyn No.1 (Skarloey and more liveries to come)

[hazel-of-sodor]

Did the Gresley engines dislike Thompson after his rebuild of Great Northern? Been wondering about that. You can answer this on your own time Hazel, I’m not going to force you to answer it this second.

They weren't the fondest of him, but they put it aside because of the war. Thompson wasn't evil by any means, and he meant well with Great Northern's rebuild, but it still caused massive tensions (along with the P2 rebuilds). In the end Thompson was a complicated figure to the LNER.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Do you have a layout to run your models on?

Not at the moment. I have a loop of track around my pc, but thats it. Im working toward my own place, and I'll work on it then, but for now I don't have room.

[hazel-of-sodor]

How well would the Black 5s and BR Standard 5s get along? Would there be a bit of rivalry since they occupy the same jobs or would the dynamic be different?

Sorry it tooks so long to answer this. I hat that tumblr gets rid of the inbox notification before you answer it.

It depends on the pair in question. There were over 800 black 5s, so they were kinda everywhere doing everything. It often depended on how often they interacted.

All the Black 5s saw the Standard 5 as cosuins at least. The Standard 5 is more or less an updated Black 5. Its just the BR standard version of them. It was less a replacement and more an evolution. If anything? the Standard 5 *proved* the success of the Black 5. Almost years later and all BR does to make a standard engine for their role is make an up-to-date version of them (yes they were justifably smug about this).

Now some Black 5s only saw their standard cousins in passing and viewed them as related, but that means alot less when you have 842 direct siblings.

Others worked alongside the Stadard Fives for decades, and very much viewed them as step-siblings.

[hazel-of-sodor]

I just realized that I dont think I've ever told y'all about the most irreplaceable engine in my collection.

...Hazel...the black five is incredibly common. Not this one.

Several years ago I found a listing for a Black Five in Ebay. She was extra detailed and cost more than I wanted to pay, but for some reason...I fell in love. I won, flinching at the price...until I got a message from the seller. She was from Britian, and the seller was a former BR Driver...a former steam driver.

This was his model of his old locomotive. She had been modified to reflect the engine he used to drive. He had got a new tooling to replace the model, so he was selling the old one, but had wanted the person who bought her to know her significance.

5138 (by then 45318) had been scrapped in 1967, but over half a century later her driver still kept a model of her, only replacing it when he got a model more accurate to her. I have the physical representation of a driver's love for their engine, and she is irreplaceable.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Its a wrap!

Traintober2024 is over! 62 fics published. I hope you all enjoyed it! Whats next story wise? I'm not sure. The fourth installment of the Uman and Din will happen, but I'm not sure its next, writing and posting two sets of prompts in as many months was allot, and I'd like a brether before plunging into the next giant.

As always Im open to appropriate one word or phrase prompts for fics. I'll be making some head canon posts somewhere in there.I've considered writing for some of my other AUs, or showing how rws stories played out in my AU.

I broke 100 fics with this Traintober, and I kinda wanna let things lay a bit to given people time to read them, because I basically dropped something like a small novels worth in the space of a month.

Love Y'all!

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 31 A-Leave

Day 31 A-Departure 

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A Western Summer

Cassandra sat outside the Ffarquhar sheds, simmering quietly alongside Percy and Toby. For the first time in weeks she was home, but she was uncomfortable. Her journey up the line had went smoothly, but everytime she had passed where a house or business had once stood, it became harder to keep the smile on her face. She had kept up the act as long as she could, reassuring the people of the line, especially the children, but as soon as she had been uncoupled and ran to the shed her face had fallen.

Toby and Percy had soon joined her, sitting on either side, the three engines silent.

“You're leaving, aren't you?”Percy finally asked.

Cassandra swallowed, “I am.”

“Oh thank the Lady, I was not looking forward to arguing with you.”

Cassandra looked up confused, “pardon?”

Percy smiled at her, “none of us like the idea of you being left alone on the line.”

Cassandra shifted uncomfortably, “I don't like leaving the line…”

Toby snorted, “Go. I’ll be fine. I ran my own line for years, a few weeks without you lot is practically a vacation.”

Cassandra barked a startled laugh. 

“The line is covered,” Toby said more seriously, “and if I need a break Percy can cover for me.”

Percy nodded, “We all know you would be miserable here. Let the old man have his quiet time.”

Toby just chuckled, “Enjoy your time on the Little Western, you'll be wanting to go back within a week of returning here.”

“I doubt that,” Cassandra said with a soft smile, “you will tell me if you want to swap out?”

“I will,” Toby promised with an eye roll, “but I doubt I’ll need to. It's been nice running on a quiet branchline for a change, reminds me of my old line. Besides, I'll be seeing other engines at the junction. Go stay with your partner. We'll be here when it's time for you to come home.”

A/N: Hello Love! That's a wrap on Traintober 2024, I hope y'all enjoyed. Love Y'all!

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 31-Stay

Day 31-Dusk

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A Western Summer

Duck was talking with Cassandra on the docks as night fell, the last rays of light glinting off her brass, when he decided to ask about the storm.

She was quiet for a moment.

“...I almost called for Screech.” She admitted quietly. “I didn't because…”

Duck understood. “It would have felt like abandoning your line.”

“The shed we were in was destroyed.” She revealed quietly, “We were unhurt, but we were stuck in the rain till morning. It was miserably wet.” 

“That's why Samatha was so angry with the cleaner.” Duck realized.

“...She and Nicole were the ones to reach us first. When they saw the rubble of the shed…”

“She thought the worst.*

Cassandra shifted uncomfortably, “it's probably why they had no issues transferring here. They were pretty badly shaken.”

“And you?” Duck asked.

Cassandra considered the question, “it's a bad memory…but that's about it. I was startled this morning. I doubt I would have been dreaming about it except I’d been thinking about my line.”

‘You're ready to go home.” Duck guessed, doing his best to hide his disappointment.

“No.” Cassandra said simply.

She smiled at his surprised look. “I talked with my crew. I don't want to go back until the damage is repaired. We agreed that being alone on the line would...it would not go well.” 

She paused hesitating, “I don't know why but the last few years are getting to me. I'm not handling my duties as well as I used to. They agree that I need a break, and being left alone on my branchline is the opposite of that.”

“You've been running for twenty years.” Duck said gently, “you were always going to fall if something didn't let up.”

Cassandra gave a bitter laugh, “Why is it a problem now? Not when steam fell? Why not then?! It was so much worse!”

Duck gently buffered up to her, “because you haven't been allowed to stop.” He said quietly, “that is our failing. We should have known you were not bearing this weight as well as you looked. We should have stepped in sooner.”

“They need me!” She said hopelessly, “they need Caomhnóir. I can't fail them, not now.” A tear slipped down her cheek

Duck tilted his head, “but do they need you the same way?”

“What?

“When steam fell we needed the Lady's Champion to be a warrior.” He said seriously, “we needed an engine that was willing to go toe to toe with the other railway. To prove she was fighting for us. That she had not abandoned her children.” He gently pressed closer, “these younger engines already know that, because you've already proven that. They will be fine if you send others in your stead.”

“What if they can't reach them in time?” She protested, but he could tell she was wavering.

“Then send Screech.” He said seriously, “I have no doubt she would enjoy the chance to terrify everyone.”

Cassandra barked a startled laugh.

“It's okay for you to fall now. We're here to catch you, I swear it to the Lady.”

“She'll hold you to that.” Cassandra warned, “she does not take oaths on her name lightly.”

“That is why I made it.” Duck said, “As long as you allow it we… I will catch you.”

Cassandra was quiet for a moment, “then after I take the train to reopen my line, you want me to come back.”

“yes.” Duck said simply, “I hated the idea of you alone in your shed.”

“I wish you had said that earlier.” She admitted, “it would have made my choice easier.”

“It was your choice, and didn't want to pressure you…I wanted you to want to stay.”

She frowned, “you're my partner. It may be my choice but you have a say.”

“I didn't know if you would want to remain together when you returned home.” He admitted.

She looked at him, “and if I hadn't?” She asked curiously.

“My vow would still stand.” He said firmly, “you will always have a berth in our sheds. No matter if you're my partner or not.”

She gently pressed back against him, “I want to stay. With you and here until my line is ready for me again.”

A/N: Hello loves! Happy Halloween, Love Y'all!

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 30 A-The Lady

Day 30 A-End 

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A Western Summer

Duck knew he was dreaming as soon as he opened his eyes. The forest around him was tall, taller than the tallest building in Tidmouth…or London for that matter. Where he could see the sky above him through the forest canopy shimmered strangely despite it being night, reminding him of the air surrounding Screech. Fireflies flew through the air, lighting the forest in a golden ethereal glow. None of this was what told him that he was dreaming. It was the woman polishing his buffers.

She strangely reminded him of Cassandra at first glance, large round eyes and elegant features, but her’s were sharp were Cassnadra’s were rounded. He felt her presence on him like a physical weight, pressing down on his frames so that they creaked from the strain of her mere proximity. It felt pleasant, almost fond, but he understood that if he angered her, she would not have to kill him, he would be crushed in an instant by the weight of the emotion itself. Even before she glanced up to reveal burning gold eyes, he knew who was before him.

“My Lady.” He said, bowing his head as far as it would go, his mind racing as he tried to figure out why the Lady herself had called his spirit forth.

She smiled, “So polite Montague.”

 She reached out a hand to cup his cheek, the sensation of withheld power almost burning him as she sat there for a moment staring at him.

“Forgive me,” she said as she removed her hand, leaving a red handprint behind, “it is not often I get to interact with my living children.”

Duck nodded slowly, even within a dream he could feel the effort it took for her to keep her presence from overwhelming his existence.

“I am honored, My Lady.”

“Hmmm…” She flicked a speck of dirt from his running board, the speck incinerating in the air from her power. “I had debated sending you to Sodor.”

Duck's eyebrows shot up, the Lady was the one who sent him? It had always been strange that he was chosen for transfer to the North Western rather than one of his Welsh siblings, who were far closer, but to think it was her…

She glanced down at her palm, “I saw that you would remain faithful to your ways, to the Great Western. That it would be born again on your line.” a golden flame flickered into being on her palm.

“I did not see my champion falling for you.”

She closed her hand, the flame disappearing into her fist.

Oh.

She looked up to stare into Duck’s eyes, her lips tight in a thin line.

“I know I have unfairly burdened them.” She said tightly, the air thrumming with her power and frustration, “that she needs companionship of her own kind. That she is dangerously close to falling.”

It was tensely quiet between the engine and his creator for a long moment.

“She would not have asked to be spared.” Duck said quietly, “I would be surprised if the thought had ever occurred to her.”

“I am aware.” She said, her voice pained. She laid her other hand on his running board, tracing her fingertips along his running board as she walked around him.

She paused by his cab, “I am a jealous being.” She admitted carelessly, as if the weight of her words wasn't causing his springs to creak. “I am possessive of all my children, perhaps beyond what is healthy.”

She walked forward again, and Duck wondered if this is what sheep felt like when stalked by wolves.

 “above all others, she is mine. The only one of my children I can see while they still live, the only one I can pour my care into while they still draw breath.” She turned to face him, repressed anger, frustration, and helplessness clear  on her face, “and I can only hurt her.”

She stepped close, Duck barely daring to breathe, “I can only reach her because I ask her to risk herself for me. To bear the weight of divinity on her mortal frames.”

She opened her fist, revealing the flame still flickering in her hand, “even now I can only speak to you without shattering your being because of how much time you've spent in her presence.”

She locked her eyes on the flames, “you need to understand, my dear child, that she is mine first. Now, and forever. She was only supposed to be a champion, but I have poured too much into her, asked too much of her, to ever let her go. She is a part of me now, and I could no more let her go than you can withstand my power in life.”

Duck eyes the flames in her hand warily, “I knew as much when I asked her. To deny your claim on her would be to deny her.”

The Lady sighed, and let the flames die away, “which is why I did not protest when she asked my permission to court you.”

Duck should have expected her to have asked permission before agreeing to court him, but then why…

“Because you have to understand she's mine.” she answered his thought before he could even finish it. “She's grown attached to you, and you need to understand that you will never be first in her life before I allow this to go any further. Not just as a fact, but as your reality.”

Duck actually thought about it, considering how he felt. “It's an adjustment, being with her.” He admitted, “I'm not used to allowing others to go into danger, much less without me…but asking for Cassandra or Thomas without Caomhnóir would be like asking for me without the Great Western.”

“A fair enough comparison.” She allowed. She cupped his cheek again, “I do not say this out of malice or anger, but protectiveness. I would not see you hurt if she were to ever choose her duty over you…either of you.”

Duck swallowed, “I would not ask that of her. Only that she allows others to help her where possible.”

The Lady was quiet for a moment, before she sighed and stepped away.

“She needs you.” She admitted, “as loath as I am to admit it, she needs another engine to trust, to help her bear the weight.” she looked up to meet the panniers eyes, “but you will be affected by this.” She warned. “Just as her crews have been, you cannot spend so much time with my own without being affected yourself.”

“I understand.”

“Hmmmm…perhaps you do.” She glanced to the sky, “I must release you now, but know this.”

She glanced back to Duck.

“She chose well.”

The fire in her hand flared and Duck woke, gasping for air in the Arlesburg sheds, startling several of the engines awake.

As they asked him what was wrong, he glanced into a mirror that had been left leaning against the shed walls, revealing a red handprint on his cheek.

A/N: Hello Loves! The Lady appears Human here as a measure to keep her presence from destroying Duck. I hope you all enjoyed Day 30! Love Y'all!

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 30-Shaken

Day 30-Oncoming Storm

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A Western Summer

The rain and wind lashed around the shed, shaking it. Cassandra eyed the roof warily. The shed was older than she was. Annie and Clarabel looked as uncertain as she felt. They had been caught off guard, the storm wasn't supposed to be this strong, or arrive so soon. They’d decided to take shelter at Knapford rather than risk trying to make the run back to Ffarquhar through the storm.

The building shook with each thunderclap, and water was starting to creep under the door, the rain pouring faster than it could drain away. The building creaked ominously with a gust of wind. Cassandra was glad Samatha and Nicole had found a safer building to shelter in.

The wind grew stronger, and the water crept further into the building. “The shed won't hold for long in this.” Annie said worriedly. Cassandra couldn't help but agree.

It didn't.

The wind surged and the wood above them began splintering beneath the force. Cassandra reached for the Lady’s light, unsure if it would do anything, but out of other optionsThe roof gave out suddenly. It fortunately did fall in, but was instead blasted outwards, ripped into shred by the same wind which blew them away.

Cassandra and her coaches were suddenly doused in the pouring rain…

SPLASH

Cassandra woke with a startled whistle, instinctively attempting to roll backwards, hitting the buffers behind her with a clang. She shook her head, trying desperately to get her bearings..

As her vision cleared she realized she wasn't at Knapford but Arlesburgh, a startled cleaner with an empty water bucket in front of her.

“Just what do you think you're doing?” Samantha snarled, advancing on the cleaner before Cassandra could get her bearings.

“I was…” the cleaner stammered

“Out!” Samatha snapped, the cleaner scrambling for the door.

Cassandra was trying to fight the shaking, the memory of being doused in the torrent of water fresh once more chilling her.

Duck blew warm steam towards her, but she continued to shake.

‘I guess I'm not as over it as I thought.’ she thought as Samantha began checking her over.

“I'm fine.” She said, “Just a dream.”

Samatha looked up, clearly unconvinced, “Of?”

Cassandra sighed, “the storm.”

Samatha scowled, taking the towel one of the other cleaners gave her, drying Cassandra's face.

“If he wakes my engine like that again...” Samantha muttered darkly.

A/N: Hello loves, I'll be honest this is far from my favorite fic this Traintober, but the prompt fought me every step of the way, I hope you enjoyed. Love Y'all!

[hazel-of-sodor]

4-8-0! Love this wheel arrangement, also like the spark arrestor

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 29 A-100 Years

Day 29 A-Start

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The frames for the new Culdee Fell Railway No.1 were cut one hundred years to the day the first rail was laid. They were being built in-house, rather than at Crovan's Gate, so it would take longer, but the plan was for the engine to be steamed on the anniversary of the Line's opening.

Culdee was still uncertain how he felt. Godred’s spirit clearly had no issues with his replacement, but part of Culdee’s spirit rebelled at the thought of another engine taking the No.1. No matter his faults, Godred was their brother, and Culdee could help but feel he would be forgotten in time if his spot in the rooster as a testament to his existence.

Culdee sighed, maybe Shane was right and that was for the best. Godred was gone, had been since before the metal he'd once been made of had come to rest at the bottom of the mountain. He was with the Lady, Caomhnóir had confirmed as much after his whistle had been recovered. Perhaps it was best to let sleeping engines rest.

He shook himself, he would come to terms with it. No matter his feelings on their number, a new engine would join the fleet in time, and by his frames he would greet them with all the love and affection he Godred had never had the chance to receive.

A/N: Hello Loves! This is a follow up to last years Day 26 Loss. Love y'all!

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 29-Choices

Day 29-Misty

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A Western Summer

Thomas hummed as he ran along the coast with the early morning train. Normally Oliver took the train, but Thomas had volunteered as he was already awake, and wanted the time alone to think. He couldn't see far, the thick morning mist along the coast swirling comfortably around him, but he wasn't concerned. The train was a slow run, and no other trains ran this early.

His time on the Little Western had been better than he expected, more than he had dared hope if he was honest with himself. It was a gorgeous line, albeit very busy, in many ways a second mainline now that it extended up past Harwick. He had enjoyed running by the sea, and hoped the plan to restore the old coastal run to Tidmouth as part of the Ffarquhar happened.

His mood dropped at the thought of his line. By all accounts the damage had, if anything, been worse than initially suspected. The track would be repaired soon and he would pull the first train across the newly repaired bridge…but his line didn't need him. Wouldn't until well into Autumn optimistically. So many businesses and quarries had been damaged, there wasn't enough traffic for all the engines. People weren't taking the trains to work, because there was no work until their workplaces could be repaired or in many cases, rebuilt. From what Thomas heard from Percy, Daisy was able to handle the passenger traffic on the Northern half of the line by herself without issue, her seats far from full. Luckily the construction crews had taken on most of those left without work, but the majority of their work was within the towns. The only reasons the bridge repair had taken priority was to get engines out and supplies in. Thomas had been given a choice, he could return home when the bridge reopened…but he would be alone. The other engines were being transferred to other lines. With Thomas covering the passenger work, the little freight could easily be handled by an engine from the mainline.

Thomas missed his branchline so badly it ached. Excluding overhauls, that was possibly the longest he’d been away from his line since he had been given it…but he really didn't want to be alone.

He was tired, exhausted really, the idea of being alone in the shed every night, of spending everyday running up and down an empty line. Thomas wasn't certain he could take it. He certainly didn't want to put his coaches through it. They would do it for him he knew…but he didn't want to ask it of them.

His other option was to return to the Little Western. He could stay here until his branchline needed him again. He could relax on a branchline where he wasn't the leader, where his only duty was to pull his trains to time. He could spend the night in a full shed, surrounded by his fellow engines. He could stay with Duck.

The pannier had been a Ladysend. Someone who understood just how painful losing his branchline was. That it wasn't just a loss of position, as the mainline engines teased. It was like a part of him was missing. 

Thomas pulled into a sleepy station, only a handful people on the platform this early in the morning. As they loaded in, he considered his partner.

He had been surprised when the Great Western engine began flirting…once he noticed anyway. In the end he had decided to give it…to give them a chance. He couldn't exactly say why at the time, he had hardly given thought to relationships before. He couldn't even say for certain now why he’d say yes, but he suspected it was because he felt Duck was one of the few engines that saw him. Most of the early North Western engines still saw a little station Pilot when they looked at Thomas, a little tank engine who desperately wanted to escape the station yard. While it had happened less and less as the years went on, it had never completely disappeared. The newer arrivals had almost the exact opposite problem. They saw Caomhnóir. The Lady's champion. The engine that saved others from scrap. While Thomas was devoted to the role of Caomhnóir, and proud of his work…it was a weight. So many engines only saw his successes, not the stress that came with each rescue attempt…the guilt with every failure.

Duck was one of the few who saw the engine beneath where the two met. Oh there were others, but none that he was interested in…much less that were interested in him.

Thomas hadn’t realized how much weight he’d felt the last few years until he arrived on the Little Western. He was so used to the weight he hadn't known to do with himself until Duck had asked to court him.

 Thomas could admit to himself that it was nice being the one taken care of for once. To let another engine worry about the branchline… about him. Duck had proven a proper Swindon gentleman, seeming to thrive on the chance to pamper his partner. Thomas shouldn't have been surprised to find there was a Great Western way to court someone, or that Duck would be as dedicated to it as any part of the Great Western Way.

The guard blew his whistle and waved his flag, and Thomas rolled quietly out of the station. He’d enjoyed Duck's company much more than he’d thought he would, finding someone who understood the growing pains of being a station pilot turned head of their own branchline.

Thomas sighed, he suspected he would miss Duck's company when he returned home as much as he missed his line’s engines now.

If he went home, he'd be alone. If he stayed, he could spend more time with Duck…but it could be months before he could go home.

He puffed on into the mist, trying to make his decision.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 28 A-Morro Castle

Day 28 A-Art of Communication

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‘S.O.S. S.O.S. this is S.S. Morro Castle, to any ship in range, I have a fire on board, please respond, my coordinates are…”

The stricken American liner called out desperately into the storm. She could feel the fire within her, spreading largely unimpeded by her crew, even as she was buffeted by the gale around her. They still had her heading into the wind for Siren’s sake!

‘S.O.S. S.O…’

‘R.M.S. Titanic calling to Morro Castle, I’m headed your way, twenty minutes out.’

Morro wanted to sob with relief, she had feared her distress calls would go unheeded in the storm, instead the Siren’s champion was in range.

‘Thank you! My crew have no idea what to do, my Captain passed away last night and my chief officer…he doesn't know what to do.’

The other liner was silent for a moment, ‘then take over.’

‘I…’

‘the lives of your crew and passengers are in the balance,’ the White Star Liner said firmly, but not unkindly, ‘you have to take control.’

Morro hesitated then nodded, ‘Okay, but I'm not sure…’

‘I’ll help.’

‘Thank you.’

Morro forced her rudder over, turning away from the wind, “All available crew,” she called out, “report to fire fighting stations. All passengers, report to the boat deck.”

She forced her fire doors around the fire closed, “Remain calm, R.M.S. Titanic is on her way, and expected to arrive within twenty minutes.”

She felt her crew respond, rushing to their stations even as her passengers mustered by the lifeboats, but still the fire spread. Just as she was losing hope, she heard deep whistles from behind. 

Titanic had arrived, the great Olympic class liner towering over the smaller ship. The older ship threw lines with experienced ease, pulling the younger liner close. Crew with fire fighting equipment lined her top deck.

 “Wait…Now!” The liner roared, and her crew jumped down to the Morro’s decks, unhooking themselves from their safety lines and racing off to join the fight against the fire. Slowly, but surely the fire was contained. Foot by foot, room by room the two crews fought the fire back, even as Morro's passengers were transferred to the larger ship. The larger ship had placed herself to shield Morro Castle from the worst of the wind, looming alongside, a massive wall of steel and light. Slowly other ships responded, their crews helping extinguish the fire and transfer Morro’s Passengers.

Dawn finally broke, and with it the storm. The morning light saw the stricken liner being towed into New York Harbor by the White Star Liner. Tugs raced up to take the two ships under tow.

“You did good, young Lass.” Titanic said, stretching. On a ship as large as her, Morro suspected that the watching humans might have noticed the movement.

“I don't feel like it,” Morro admitted quietly, “I feel like I just burned while you took over.”

“You got your crew, passengers, and yourself home.” The Olympic class said seriously “that is all anyone can ask of you. You took over when it became clear your crew didn't know what to do, and were able to let someone else take over when they needed to. I’ve seen far worse performances during far better situations during my time.”

The great liner shrugged, “some days are hell.” She said bluntly, “you can’t change that. All you can do is wait them out.”

The lead tug whistled, and they began pulling the older liner away.

“Thank you!” Morro called out, “I wouldn't have made it without you.”

Titanic chuckled, “of course little one.”

A/N: Hello Loves! This takes place in 1934, shortly before Titanic and her sisters would be purchased by the Soodor Star Line. IRL no is certain even to this day why Morro Castle caught ablaze, but at least in this AU she was saved. Love Y'all!