#Skarloey did know something

[naurasweetarudesu]

Star Rails Chronicle Prologue

Attention: Basically if you confused how the engines in my humanized AU works, they basically like tsukumogami or spirit of the locomotive. So, yeah. They're semi immortal as long the 'second body' (which is their engine) is safe.

On a cold night in September, the 7th, 1998, two elderly figures were sitting on the front porch of their home drinking tea. One was hot tea. The other was tea with ice.

"You're so weird, Skarloey," chuckled Rheneas. "How can you drink iced tea in the middle of a cold night like this?" He continued.

"I'm used to it, Rhen." Skarloey replied. "Drinking something cold after work makes me feel more refreshed."

"Yes, but it's fall season! If you catch a cold, who else will suffer because of it if not you? Or me, since I'll have to take your train!" Rheneas grumbled. Skarloey only replied with a giggle.

"Hey, Rhen." Skarloey suddenly spoke up, breaking their silence who had been observing the starry sky. "I actually thought of a question that might be… rather abstract."

"Let me guess, you want to ask my opinion on that abstract question." Rheneas answered without looking at Skarloey.

"Ehh, how do you know?" Skarloey frowned.

"Well, you're always like that. Asking abstract questions like; Can we as engines go to college? Or 'Does another world exist?" and so on." Rheneas refilled his empty glass.

"Wow, you even memorized it," Skarloey blushed. "So, do you want to hear my question or not?"

Rheneas was not one to dwell on things that could not necessarily be proven, unlike Skarloey. "It's not practical!" he would say. But in an age where the world demands us to move and think fast without mercy like this, sometimes fantasizing about what might happen or what might exist in this world is the best 'break' you can get. Letting go of your fantasies without having to care about the harsh reality for a few minutes.

"Okay. What was the question?"

"Experience shapes us, doesn't it? Considering that experience is synonymous with memory, do you think that if someone loses all their memories, it's the same with resetting them into a blank paper? Where in the end you can mold someone with a new and different personality than before?"

Rheneas only fell silent at that question. He had prepared all the strange questions Skarloey might ask. But in the end he was always surprised.

"Oh, umm… first of all, that was really long. Secondly, how did you come up with that question?"

"No idea. It just suddenly came to me…" Skarloey stared at his reflection in the tea in his glass.

Rheneas muttered for a moment, before finally speaking.

"Well, Skarloey, I don't think that's possible." Rheneas answered in the end.

"Why is that?"

"If we use the Nativus theory, no one is born as a blank paper. Basically, everyone must have an original personality they have since birth, no matter how small it is. Experience is just another reason why a person can change.

Take yourself for example. Remember when you first came here, you were very arrogant but also jolly at the same time? Now look at yourself. Now you are wise, everyone admires you. But you haven't lost your jolly side, have you?

But that's just my opinion. We never see how someone who loses all their memories and becomes someone else behaves, right?" Rheneas explained at length

Skarloey nodded at Rheneas' answer. He then sighed. "Glad to hear there's hope in your opinion, Rhen."

Meanwhile, Sir Handel, who woke up in the middle of the night to get some drinking water, could only watch the two old figures chatting from the window.

"What are they doing at this time of night? Ah, who cares? I'll just go back to sleep." He closed the curtains and returned to his bedroom.

Ah, if only he knew…

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 18 - Water

Duke Was Never the Same:

The lake was blue. It was very blue, as if someone had plucked the purest sapphire from the deepest mine in Australia and carefully placed it into the place where the Skarloey lake was meant to be. It shimmered in the sun, barely a single ripple in the surface to betray the mirror that the lake seemed to pretend to be. It was gorgeous, and yet Duke couldn’t help but avert his eyes.

Rheneas liked gazing out towards the lake. He claimed it healed something within himself, that it made him feel at harmony with the world. It was one of his favourite topics, when he got the chance to get a word in edgeways in between Duncan’s complaining and Peter Sam’s chirpiness. Rheneas seemed to think it was the water, as if it had bubbled up from the earth’s core purely to soothe his soul and bring peace and serenity to the world around it. And sure, it had done just that – Skarloey Lake was surrounded by the lushest greenery on Sodor, thick oaks and vibrant flowers blanketed the banks of the lake where humans hadn’t cut them away to dot their resorts and villages along its coastline. The lake was their lifeblood, it’s waters a siren luring tourists and locals alike up to gaze upon it.

And yet, Duke could barely look upon the lake without feeling like spitting out all his coals. He knew there was something wrong with that – something truly wrong with a steam engine disliking water. It singled him out in a way that just… wasn’t normal. At least the lake was crystal blue or aqua green, depending on the season. Such colours were bold, natural.

It was the inky blackness of the lake at night that made Duke feel truly ill. The darkness of the water, the way that it rippled just enough to remind him of that day. Duke would do whatever job was asked of him, of course, but he tried his absolute best to avoid being out past dusk. This worked out well for him – he got the morning train, when the rising sun would blind him and made it impossible to see the lake for the glare reflecting off it – and in return he was back before the sun had dipped beyond the horizon.

It wasn’t the lake itself that was the problem, no. It was the water. Duke was fine with winding rivers and rushing rapids – the Rheneas Waterfall was really quite beautiful when Duke saw it – but when water was still, it was wrong. It was uncomfortable, it drew memories up from deep under the surface, ripping them out from where they’d been shoved deep down between his boiler tubes and taking everything with them. Duke knew he needed water to run – he was not like Henry, with such an intense phobia that it blinded him from his duties like the rain blinded engines when they were forced to run in it. He was merely… uncomfortable with it.

A new boat was unveiled on the lake. It was a bright, eye-catching red. Duke instantly hated it – red and water did not mix well within his mind. Nothing good came of the two mixing. Red-painted metal was not meant to touch water, not meant to come into contact with the very substance that would corrode it into nothingness. Water was a powerful force, after all. It rusted and it eroded. It pulled entire embankments down when it so desired; it flooded the valleys and left people with nothing left but broken dreams and sodden houses.

It left Duke with nothing.

The boat was shiny – it was not quite the same colour as James, or even any of the other Skarloey Railway engines. It’s red was entirely different, in a way none of the others recognised. Of course Duke was the only one to make the connection, he was the only one who could have ever known. No one else was alive who could say the same thing, they’d all been buried deep under the earth or torn to pieces by scrappers long, long ago. Duke was the only one left, the only one cursed to bear the burden of knowing, of caring.

Peter Sam and Sir Handel liked the boat way too much. Said it was oddly familiar, in a way they just couldn’t quite place their buffers on. Duke hoped they would never remember – not that they would be able to, he had only really been a story and a small hole in a brick wall to them. They’d not been witness to any of the truth, not been around for what really happened. At one point, Peter Sam almost found out, but Duke had been able to redirect him, protect his young puffling from the ugliness of reality. Sure, Peter Sam had suffered in his life – but at least the images that haunted Duke’s nightmares were confined to him alone. Peter Sam could be free, could live his life without ever knowing.

They all could.

Only Duke remembered.

Only Duke knew.

The red boat was not as waterproof as its owners had intended. When the autumn storms rolled through the mountains, thunderclouds beating their chests and hurling rain and lightning down upon the railway and all it served, the rain got into the red boat. It hadn’t been roped to its jetty properly, and one evening it got loose, floating out into the lake as rain pounded it from all sides, tearing at it and trying to find a weak point.

Duke had been the one to find it, on his early morning train. It had capsized, revealing its hull as it smashed against the craggy rocks and sunk until only a small chunk remained visible. Duke had gone as white as a sheet, his eyes far away from the scene of destruction.

They’d had to hoist the red boat out with a crane. By then, the water had begun its natural process, ripping into the boat and rusting anything not waterproofed properly. It happened so fast, aided by the unnatural number of contaminants in the water from the harsh rains. Or maybe they were only seen by Duke, who wasn’t really seeing the red boat at all, but rather something else far, far away and a good fifty years ago. It was placed in the back of the yards, awaiting some unknown order to repair or dispose of it. Duke could only spare sympathy for the poor pleasure craft – the water had done it in.

Water was all too cruel.

The rains left great muddy puddles everywhere; Duke begged off mine duty, desperate to avoid the murky, dirty waters of the mine.

Desperate to avoid the memories.

Duke managed to get his way, taking trains anywhere but the mine. He did the army-camp trains, leaving loaded vans at the entrance to the formerly abandoned slate quarry and picking up empty ones in their place. One time, he was even directed into the slate quarry when the little WD ‘Beetle’ broke down, steaming into a military camp and being oh so thankful for the huge tarps that were strategically hung to keep as much of the camp as possible dry, directing the rain to distant, out of sight drains.

Duke had never been allowed back inside that camp though, not that he wanted to after he spotted an old steam boiler in the corner of his eye and been punched out of his own mind and into memories he was trying to avoid.

Still, the rains continued. The red boat was taken away, and never returned. Scrapped, or so Skarloey said. Peter Sam held out hope for its return, the optimist he was. Duke couldn’t find it in himself to do the same. Not when the red boat had been in such a sorry state, great gashes torn in it by the rocks and creeping rust beginning to form on its interior, now open to the world due to the way it had been tossed around and ripped apart.

Not when it was too similar to before.

The trains ground to a halt, tourists not wanting to venture far from their hotels and the mine not wanting to attempt any major work in the dangerously wet conditions. The entire railway slowed to only its most essential services, and only the fewest engines possible were called upon to handle the work. Duke was one of them, a fact he privately was thankful for – he couldn’t stand being inside the shed for too long, not when it would only ever remind him of those years spent underground, unable to see the outside world, confined to the darkness without even a hope or a prayer of rescue.

Instead, Duke handled the bulk of traffic along the Skarloey Railway’s ‘main line’ while Rusty handled trackwork and Ivo Hugh the few trains needed at the mine – mostly made of equipment runs and hauling away what amount of the rock had been dug out. It was not much, and Ivo Hugh got enough time in between his runs to help Duke out. Sandbags were supplied to the villages in danger of flooding – not that Duke thought they would. Duke knew flooding, and these were not the right conditions.

And Duke was right. The weather cleared up right before the river could burst its banks, leaving the valley to breathe a collective sigh of relief even as Duke kept his eyes determinedly on the way forwards.

The intervention of the rain had distracted Duke from the time of year, and by the time he remembered, it was already too late.

Duke started seeing him everywhere, in flashes of red that ensnared Duke’s attention and drew him in like a moth to the flame. Duke hated it. Duke hated the rain. Duke hated water. Duke hated knowing the truth and never being able to repeat it. Duke felt his boiler tighten with stress, the steel contracting even as his fire tried vainly to warm him through.

It was a losing battle.

And then finally, Duke simmered over. It was that day, after all. It was fifty years exactly. Duke said nothing as the day progressed, leaving the other engines worried for his health. And then he volunteered to pull the last freight of the day; a line of empty trucks for the mine. The others all were stunned. They couldn’t even find a way to voice their shock – or perhaps that was Duke being unable to hear them. He couldn’t hear anything over the scream that had rattled in his smokebox for fifty years, anything over the words that had haunted him since they’d been uttered.

The trip up was quiet. The afternoon was cooling into night, and the trees had only just finished having all their leaves turn brown and red. Within the week, they’d be barren – but for now it was a festival of colour that broke up the traditionally green landscape. The river babbled along by the line on one side while a few cars rumbled by on the other, racing to get home for the end of the day. Only Duke seemed to know what day it was. Only Duke seemed to care what day it was.

Then again, only Duke knew what happened. Only Duke every truly saw it.

Duke slowed to a stop at the mine, shunting away the trucks. Dirty pools of water littered the lineside, him reflected in each. Of course he was – dirty water was what took him in the end. Duke waited until his driver had gone inside to log their arrival before creeping forwards to the beginning of the mine itself.

There were two entrances to this mine: one was a large vertical shaft with elevator that hurtled down deep into the earth, while the other was a long, twisting tunnel dating back centuries. The tunnel was just slightly too small to fit Duke, but the perfect size to push long lines of trucks in. Once upon a time, horses would have hauled the trucks from deep in the mines, but now a conveyer belt ferried everything up to the surface elsewhere.

Duke gazed down the tunnel, and sighed. Fifty years truly did go by fast, and it was everything he could do not to cry.

“I’m… sorry. Stanley.”

***

Once upon a time, there was a little engine named after His Grace, the Duke of Sodor. The little engine worked hard, and kept his little railway in order – but it was clear to all he needed help.

The engine they brought was named Stanley, not that many used his name. To the manager and his crew, he was simply “Number Two”, a rough-riding scoundrel of an engine who never really did anything but derail. Stanley and Duke knew better – they knew something had gone wrong when Stanley had been regauged to work on the little line.

Despite their worries and pleas, nothing was done and Stanley’s condition deteriorated. Crashes and derailments became more common, and Stanley lashed out at Duke in frustration. He hadn’t meant to – goodness, even Duke knew that! But the manager didn’t, and he didn’t care. To him, Stanley had simply been a nuisance who needed to be dealt with. And when Duke tried to keep them from selling Stanley off, they got creative.

Stanley was locked away behind the shed as a pumping engine, Duke spent a year without a new coat of paint – and then the old engine had a pair of new younglings dumped on him. They were so young, and so eager, and so good, but Duke feared for them. He feared what would happen if they too acted like Stanley or even showed a hint of being incapable.

So he went to Stanley, and the pair made up their story.

It worked – Stuart and Falcon behaved impeccably, and all was peaceful on the little railway. Duke and Stanley breathed a sigh of relief, and life settled into place. Sometimes, when the young engines slept, Duke would creep around the back to spend time chatting with his less fortunate friend. He did his best to hide these visits, both Duke and Stanley afraid of what wrath the manager would bring on them if he discovered that they were fraternising.

And for a time, all seemed well. But fate is not that kind.

The pair were discovered one evening during the war, when the manager came out late one evening to warn them of the increasing workload. His punishment was swift and harsh – he made Duke unearth Stanley in the middle of the night and cart him down the line to the biggest mine on the little railway, where they needed a new pumping engine to look after the water in the deepest parts of the mine.

Duke was forced to watch as Stanley was lowered down, down, deep into the mine where he would be run forever more.

Time continued on. The new pumping engine helped the mine reach a new vein deep underground – however to do so they had to constantly pump away a ruptured spring which gushed water constantly. The river the railway ran alongside grew weaker above where the mine’s outflow pipe dumped gallons of water into its rapids; Duke feared that the spring the miners had hit was really the source of the river, though he was unable to voice his concerns.

Duke would never forget his friend, buried alive in the deepest depths of the mine and unable to call for help. The manager made sure of it too – he put Duke on all the trains heading up to the mine, no matter how busy his schedule was. Duke took it all on without complaint – he could see the direction the wind was blowing. When His Grace returned from the war, Duke would plead his case, try and rescue Stanley and the two young engines he’d come to see as his own and make a run for it – maybe get His Grace to transfer them as far from the little railway and its sadistic manager as possible.

Life was not fair though.

It was a cold morning when Duke arrived to chaos.

“There’s something wrong with the pumping engine!” bellowed a miner, sprinting across the yard. “It’s gonna blow!” Then came the scream. It was guttural, full of agony and completely unlike anything Duke had ever been forced to hear before. It echoed through the mine, stunning the men into silence. A thick cloud of smoke belched out of the tunnels all at once, followed by miners running for their lives while hacking and coughing.

The smoke was blown away by the wind, and Duke peered into the mine. He wanted to venture in, to try and find his friend and save him from what he knew to be coming next.

The water that Stanley had been dutifully pumping flooded the mine in a great gushing wave. It’s force caused the entire yard to tremble, and Duke was forced away from the entrance to the mine in fear of it all collapsing. Duke watched on in horror as the mine flooded right the way to the top, the second pumping machine breaking under the strain. Dirty, sludge-filled water began to trickle out of the mine’s entrances, revealing tools, equipment… and one dirty, grime-ridden nameplate.

Stanley’s nameplate.

Duke felt a sob break free. He couldn’t let his youngsters see this. He couldn’t let them see the damage, see what had become of Stanley.

But worse was to come.

Two weeks later, the water level dropped, the spring flushing back out into the river and draining out of the mine. Duke brought a flatbed up, confused.

“Sir? What’s this for?” he asked the manager carefully. The manager didn’t answer. Instead, he simply nodded to several miners. A large crane winch was lowered into the mine, and attached to something.

The crane heaved with all its might, and the something was lifted up into the dusk light. It was what remained of Stanley. His dusty red paint had been washed clean by the surging water – but that same water had also rusted poor Stanley right through. And then Duke saw it. Stanley’s firebox had been blown clean off when he’d broken down, pipes mangled and sticking up at jarring angles. Poor Stanley’s boiler had exploded from the pressure, the dome flying off and his firebox blowing out. He’d been in agony, and then the water had come rushing in.

The water had drowned him slowly, then rusted away at what had been left.

Duke was forced to drag Stanley’s remains to a scrap merchant’s barge at the harbour; thankfully neither Stuart nor Falcon saw him. He wouldn’t have been able to survive them seeing his face twisted in pure sorrow, sobbing as he brought Stanley’s remains to the harbour and watched as they were taken away.

Duke was never quite the same since. He’d been even more protective of those he had left, running himself into the ground for Stuart and Falcon. He’d watched them get sold off, then watched as the world was reduced to a small shed and nothing more.

Stanley never got the recognition he deserved, the manager saw to that. He embellished the story Duke had told Stuart and Falcon and ensured the Reverend heard it. Stanley’s name was forever tarnished, and Duke was left with the guilt.

Duke wasn’t sure if he would ever stop seeing Stanley’s twisted remains and haunted expression gazing up at him from in the water.

Back to the Master Post

[anonymousboxcar]

Moving Forward AU: Romance?

(This was something I meant to have out by Valentine’s Day, but… yeah. No spoons. The silverware drawer was empty. Apologies for the lateness, folks!)

I’m pondering what romantic shenanigans Stanley might get up to in my AU. I imagine it would be years before he felt up to pursuing that kind of relationship. But once he’s had time to settle into his new normal, process his trauma, and make new friends, he might feel more comfortable with it.

One possibility I see is that he and Duncan decide to give it a try!

I like the idea of Duncan falling for this rough n’ ready, plainspoken engine who helps him not blow up over the little things in life. And for awhile, Stanley is too busy adjusting to his new life to see it. But he feels ever fonder of his grumpy friend who makes him laugh and doesn’t ask him to be patient all the time.

Once they sort themselves out, they’re not ones for extravagant gestures. They do what they did before, watching tapes of George Carlin and cracking jokes, with the new understanding between them. It’s very easygoing and comfortable for them both.

(There’s also an ongoing competition between them to call each other the most ridiculous, nauseating pet names possible.)

Another possibility: you know how there’s a notion in the RWS of engines being paired up with coaches, almost “courting” them? I like to think Stanley scoffs at this. It seems silly and quaint to him. But he’s also rejecting any closeness due to his old, ingrained fears surrounding derailments and getting somebody hurt.

And then, at the rail museum, he meets a truck.

The truck works with Stanley in his capacity as an exhibit on trench railways. They used to carry troops and supplies during WWI, though not on the same railway as Stanley’s old wartime circuit. At the museum, they haul passengers around the grounds.

They notice Stanley’s uneasiness over this business and try to reassure him: “So what if you slide off the track? I blew up once!”

“…what?”

“Well, it was a ways ahead of me in the train. Got a face full of shrapnel and a bent axle. But! Point is, I’ve had worse. I can take a bump or two.”

Full of irrepressible cheer and optimism, the truck helps assuage the worst of Stanley’s anxieties. In return, Stanley — grateful and a touch bemused — does his best to give smooth rides. This wins him the trust of the truck, who never experienced such gentleness in an unpatronizing package.

They start chatting on their runs and at the end of the day about museum gossip, guests, and their old lives. The truck shares their adventures with other trucks after the war. Stanley tells the truck about operation on a more typical railway like the SKR.

Hearing about Skarloey and Rheneas’ treatment of their coaches, the truck wonders what it’s like to be treated the way a civilian engine treats their coach. Stanley, thinking of his own struggles to fit into a “normal” railway on the MSR, offers to help. The truck accepts.

Stanley stumbles over calling the truck “dear,” as well as the other typical flowery compliments and language. He’s self-conscious and a little embarrassed by the time the day’s over.

But he’s also flustered by the warmth in the truck’s responses, their own compliments towards him. They’re not flowery, demure, nor outrageous, but honest and open.

The truck, seeing how red in the face he is, apologizes for making him uncomfortable. “You already made me feel respectable, proper-like, before I asked you to do this.”

Stanley admits he liked their compliments. “Just didn’t know what to with ‘em, I guess,” he says. “But… I really did like ‘em. Made me feel good.”

“Oh. Well, you can tell me that, if you like.” The truck looks Stanley in the eye. “You can tell me anything. I won’t laugh.”

“Not even if I ask you to keep doin’ what you did today?”

“Not even that. Though — if I’m honest? I’d like it if you kept up your end of things, too.”

So they keep at it. Their exchanges become more natural, more like second nature over time. They become mixed into casual conversation, become less about meeting expectations of engine-rolling stock relations and more about what they like in each other.

After a certain point, one curious child visitor asks for how long they’ve been married.

A pause follows. It’s long enough for Stanley to realize he isn’t surprised or confused by the child’s assumption. It’s long enough for him and the truck to make significant eye contact, to see his happiness and hope reflected back at him.

“A year,” they both say at the same time, smiling.

[rygoespop]

Thomas and Friends: Legends of Sodor (Story 14): Freddie Meets His Match

Narrator: Freddie Meets His Match

Scene opens on the Skarloey Railway, as Luke puffed into Crovan’s Gate while he pulled 3 Blue Box Cars, until he sees a Purple Narrow Gauge Engine

Narrator: One morning, Luke puffed into Crovan’s Gate, until he noticed something

Luke: Huh? Who is that? I better get a better look

Luke puffs up to the Purple Engine, who has a body that almost looks similar to Freddie

Luke: Oh, hello there! I’m Luke, who are you?

Ivo Hugh: Hello Luke, I’m Ivo Hugh! The new Narrow Gauge Engine!

Luke: A new Narrow Gauge Engine?

Ivo Hugh: Indeed!

Luke: You look similar to Freddie!

Ivo Hugh: Freddie? Who’s Freddie?

Luke: He’s the Number 7 Engine on the railway

Ivo Hugh: Really? I’m also a Number 7 as well

Luke sees Ivo Hugh’s number and gasped

Luke: Now there’s Two Number 7 Engines! That’s like having two Number 2 Engines such as Rheneas and Smudger

Scene transitions to Luke puffing into the Transfer Yards, Freddie was there

Narrator: Later, Luke puffed into the Transfer Yards, Freddie was there

Freddie: Oh hello Luke!

Luke: Hello Freddie, have you met the new Narrow Gauge Engine?

Freddie: New Narrow Gauge Engine?

Luke: Yes, his name is Ivo Hugh, he sports a Number 7 like you.

Freddie: What?! Number 7?! I’m the Number 7 engine! I must go find this Ivo Hugh at once!

Scene transitions to Freddie puffing into Rheneas Station

Narrator: Later, Freddie arrived at Rheneas Station

Freddie: *sees Ivo Hugh* Hello, you must be the new engine!

Ivo Hugh: Indeed, I’m Ivo Hugh! You must be Freddie

Freddie: Indeed, and I’m crossed!

Ivo Hugh: Why?

Freddie: There can only be one Number 7 Narrow Gauge Engine, and that’s me!

Ivo Hugh: Is that a challenge? If so, then it’s a race!

Scene transitions to Freddie and Ivo Hugh at a starting line

Narrator: Soon, the 2 Engines were at a starting line

Freddie: Ready?

Ivo Hugh: Go!

Freddie and Ivo Hugh both race down the line

Narrator: Thus the race was on, both Ivo Hugh and Freddie were quick to race, but neither one can overtake

Freddie: Did you know I used to work on the Mid Sodor Railway years ago? Yet I’m still working with Duke, Bertram, and Smudger!

Ivo Hugh: That is fascinating

Scene transitions to Freddie and Ivo Hugh puffing through the Countryside

Narrator: They both puff through the countryside

Ivo Hugh: Funny enough, I was once able to take a Circus Train!

Freddie: I guess that makes you, Ivo Hugh the Clown Engine!

Ivo Hugh: *chuckled* You are funny Freddie!

Scene transitions to evening, as Freddie and Ivo Hugh arrive at Crovan’s Gate

Narrator: By the time evening arrived, there was bound to be trouble

Mr. Percival: Ahem!

Freddie: Oh dear!

Ivo Hugh: Oh my

Mr. Percival: Even though I don’t approve of racing, but you two nearly caused, and to quote Sir Topham Hatt, Confusion and Delay!

Freddie: Yes sir, and we’re sorry sir

Ivo Hugh: Not a day to start my first day

Luke: Wait sir! *blew his whistle as he puffs in*

Mr. Percival: Luke?

Luke: It’s not their fault, it was my fault, I wanted Freddie to know about Ivo Hugh, not race him

Mr. Percival: Is this true?

Ivo Hugh: Yes sir! It wouldn’t hurt that Freddie and I have Number Seven, like how Luke told me that Rheneas and Smudger have the Number Two

Mr. Percival: Huh, well if that’s so, then welcome to the Skarloey Railway, Ivo Hugh!

Luke: Three cheers to our new friend!

Luke and Freddie cheer as they blew their whistles to welcome their new friend, Ivo Hugh

Ivo Hugh: Thanks guys!

Ivo Hugh looks at the camera and smiles as Steam Clouds rolled in

Story End

[imitation-steamroller]

Something Old, Something New

Skarloey has been away serving as part of a good luck package. But when he finally comes home, the other little engines are surprised to find that he wasn't just something old.

“What’s taking Skarloey so long?” Duncan groused one day. “He goes gallivanting off on holiday and leaves us to do his work!”

“Nancy already explained it,” Peter Sam said patiently. “Her cousin is getting married, and they asked for Skarloey to be part of the good luck package.”

“I know that!” Duncan snapped. “Why does he get to go up to Duck’s branch line, hmm? Why does he get to be repainted? I work hard enough to deserve a new coat of paint!”

None of the other engines mentioned that Duncan had just been repainted a month ago.

“Speaking of which,” peeped Sir Handel, “did anyone notice how secretive everybody was about Skarloey’s repaint? They even took him to the big engines’ workshop for it. The rest of us always have ours here.”

Rheneas chuckled ruefully. “I’m not sure, but I know Nancy is behind it. She was in a right state when they came to take Skarloey away. Apparently, she suggested something as a joke, and Skarloey and the bride decided to go with it.”

“Do you think they painted ‘Just married’ on the back of his cab and rode away with him and that old haulage wagon of his?” Rusty joked.

“Not quite,” came a voice.

The little engines couldn’t believe their eyes as Duck pulled into the yard. Behind him, he had a coach full of happy wedding guests, and behind that was the flatbed carrying Skarloey, who looked a very different engine indeed.

Instead of the red paint with white lining they were used to, Skarloey was painted a bright shade of blue. It wasn’t so light as Thomas, Edward, and Gordon’s paint, nor was it quite as dark as Sir Handel’s.

“Do you like it?” he asked, chuckling at their expressions.

Soon, Skarloey was loaded back on the rails, and Rusty shunted him into the shed next to Rheneas.

“What’s this about, then?” Rheneas chuckled.

“Ask Nancy,” Skarloey answered. “It was her idea, after all.”

The girl in question leaned against the shed wall, wearing a red dress with a blue ribbon around the waist.

“I meant it as a joke,” she said, fighting off a grin. “I said since Skarloey already fit as something old and something borrowed, we may as well figure out how to add something new and blue to the mix.”

“Thus the change in color,” Peter Sam surmised. “An old and borrowed engine in a new coat of blue paint!”

“A four-in-one good luck package!” Rusty laughed. “Clever thinking, Nancy! Though, I don’t think Sir Handel likes it very much!”

Sir Handel eyed Skarloey’s paint critically. “It isn’t bad, I suppose. But I had better not hear any passengers getting us mixed up!”

“Don’t worry, Sir Handel,” Skarloey said innocently. “We can just have you painted red to balance things out!”

Sir Handel’s reply was drowned out in a chorus of laughter.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 12-Of Reds and Ones

Traintober 2023

Other Stories

Day 12-Something Borrowed

Of Reds and Ones

James was simmering contently at Crovan's Gate station, his fresh paint gleaming in the sunlight. One of the little engines of the Skarloey Railway was going about their day on the other side of the platform. He wasn't sure which one it was, as he only caught glimpses through the trucks and carriages.

 Claire was topping off his oil reservoirs when she suddenly laughed.

 James, who had just been dozing off, looked back. "What? Do I have mud on my wheels or something?" he grumbled.

Claire smirked at him, "You got your paint from the Skarloey engines didn't you?"

Before he could answer, someone else did. "That he did lass. Took one look while at the works and came out looking like he belonged to our little railway."

James looked over to see the engine he'd been catching glimpses of was Skarloey himself. James rolled his eyes, "They're hardly identical, but yes it is meant to resemble their livery."

"I always thought they had just flipped the normal livery. Red with blue stripes rather than Blue with red stripes.

James shook his head with a sigh. "no it was originally a tribute livery, much like Henry's was, but I've been wearing it for over seventy years now..."

"So everyone just thinks of it as your livery," Claire said.

"Even though we were wearing it seventy years before you did." Skarloey chuckled.

"Well, I can't help that I wear it better." James rolled his eyes, but Claire knew him well enough to know he actually didn't mind.

"You said Henry's livery was a tribute livery?" She asked.

James nodded, "That was before my time, but it was meant to represent the Sodor and Mainland Railway, one of the railways that were merged to become the North Western."

"Even though it's a completely different shade of green," Skarloey interjected.

James shrugged, "I wasn't there when they chose the shade, I actually wouldn't arrive for several more years. I only know what the others told me, although I doubt they explained it to them either."

"I believe the blue and red were also borrowed," Skarloey mused. "The original blue was that of the Wellsworth and Suddery, while the red stripes were the same color as the Tidmouth, Elsbridge, and Knapford engines."

James frowned, "I thought Thomas just painted those colors and the railway liked them."

"That too." Skarloey laughed, "The North Western lacked a number one and Thomas lacked a number. The way crews saw the opportunity to have the number one. They kept painting ones on him, which management would remove." Finally one night they painted him, blue from the Wellsworth and Suddery, the TEKR's Red for stripes, and a large golden number one line in red on his tanks.

Lord Harwick stepped onto the platform, looked at Thomas while taking a long draw of coffee, which had all the workmen worried they'd pushed too far. He finished his sip and told them they could keep the one if they painted the other engines as well."

James snorted, "I see very little has changed about Sodor crews then."

"Nothing important." Skarloey smiled.

Claire snorted, "Come on big red, you've got a train to pull." 

She climbed into the cab, "James whistling a farewell to Skarloey as he pulled off.

Skarloey whistled his reply and returned to his shunting with a snort. Big red indeed.

[skarloeyspa]

Okay okay, now that you've listened to Long Live the Iron Horse I am dying to know what you think of Skarloey being the little brother instead of Rheneas

like this.

ok ok /srs now. I've actually never viewed one of them as being older than the other? The way I interpreted their relationship was that while they have very different ways of showing care for each other (and the other members of their family!), the way they feel for each other is pretty similar. in fact if you forced me to assign one of them as the older brother I don't think I could

(Long Live the Iron Horse spoilers under the cut!)

but i like it!! it definitely makes Rheneas' protectiveness hit home even harder (in case it didn't already...) and also just hurts extra when you take into consideration how he was essentially neglecting Skarloey just so he could secure a place for the two of them on the railway.

i think even in Long Live the Iron Horse Rheneas and Skarloey still aren't that different in age, maybe a couple months at most, which is like. Minutes in human time. Rheneas is probably just more "mature" because of his personality, he had absolutely no obligation to take such a heavy weight onto his metaphorical shoulders but he did anyway, which just makes this hurt so much better.

it's the way that despite their age difference being so small, Rheneas still thinks that he has to be the one to protect Skarloey (well, he kind of had to either way...). I don't know how long Rheneas would have lasted if he didn't have Skarloey as his reason for waking up and getting to work every morning.

It's the way Rheneas just refuses to tell Skarloey anything bad at the time, for fear of ruining Skarloey's "innocence". He didn't need to carry everything himself, he had every opportunity to visit Skarloey and just let things off his metaphorical chest. Skarloey was naive but he wasn't stupid, he'd know to be sympathetic if he heard of the things his brother sat through for him. But still Rheneas kept things to himself because he couldn't possibly burden his little brother with something so traumatizing.

It's the way he keeps quiet about this for 157 years, still holding onto the belief that his little brother was innocent after all this time. How even after everything, he couldn't muster up the courage to tell his brother the truth to his face, but rather through a proxy of the priest.

Judging by the ending I think Rheneas had long since acknowledged that Skarloey was more than mature enough to handle the truth. Heck, has known the truth for some time. I think he just didn't want to acknowledge it, because it symbolized his failure as an older brother, that despite making every decision to protect Skarloey he still failed.

tldr: i love it!! i'm a sucker for protective older brothers who take all the burden upon themselves because they don't want to ruin their younger siblings' innocence! only for them to turn around and realize that their younger sibling is all grown up and don't need to be protected anymore!

[sudriantraveler]

Ivo Hugh's Adventure

I've been trying to get back into writing recently. So here's a story about Ivo Hugh, who didn't get to do anything in the books, but that doesn't mean nothing ever happens to him.

Ivo Hugh's Adventure

One late afternoon, Ivo Hugh returned to the yard upset.

“It’s not fair,” he complained to the other engines. 

“You all have had so many exciting things happen to you. Skarloey and Rheneas kept the line running when it was about to close, Sir Handel had his race with George, and Peter Sam had his run in with the slate trucks! I want an exciting story too! I want an adventure!”

Sir Handel groaned, “I’d hardly call George a fond memory. In fact, none of those stories were what I’d call fun.”

“But they were exciting!” insisted Ivo Hugh.

“For you to hear about maybe.” retorted Sir Handel, and he shot a glare at Skarloey. “What you call adventures are nothing more than hard work or embarrassing incidents, and I’d very much appreciate it if you’d shut up and let me get some rest!”

Ivo Hugh looked sheepishly down at his buffers.

Skarloey was more polite, “Just be patient Ivo Hugh” he said. “You remember an adventure because it’s not something that happens all too often.”

“Besides” he went on, “Sir Handel may be a bit… sharp” and he scowled at the short tempered engine, “but he does have a point. Adventures may be memorable, but they’re not always fun when they happen”.

“I don’t want anything disastrous to happen” insisted Ivo Hugh, “I just want something to happen that’ll make for a good story. Something to show that I’ve actually done something on this railway”.

“You do plenty already. You just don’t know it” soothed Skarloey. “And anyway, you're a young engine. Just give it time and I’m sure you’ll have a good story to tell eventually”.

“I know that I’m plenty young compared to everyone else here, but I wouldn’t say I count as a child anymore,” remarked Ivo Hugh, and he rolled off into the shed.

Skarloey sighed, then looked over and spoke to Rheneas. “Heh” he chuckled, “I suppose he does have a point. Although, it feels like just yesterday was his naming ceremony. My, my… We are getting old” he laughed, and he winked at Rheneas.

“We were getting old long before even Sir Handel and Peter Sam got here,” remarked Rheneas. “I think now we’re just old”.

The two engines laughed.

Sir Handel meanwhile, was still in a bad mood. “Oh, when will everyone just quiet down? I’ve had a busy day and now I have to deal with everyone reminiscing!” And he let off steam crossly, just as his Driver and Fireman came walking back towards the shed.

“Ah good, you have pressure up” said the driver, “Come on Sir Handel, we’ve still got some work to do”.

“What?” asked Sir Handel, “But the last train has already come back!”

“I’m afraid you're wrong,” explained the driver, “We’ve still got one more train today. They’re going to be replacing some fences around the loop throughout the week. We’re to take supplies up to Skarloey Station so the workman can get started tomorrow morning… Why did you think you were still in steam?”

“Wha… but… Why not have one of the diesels do it? Isn’t this sort of thing their job?” Asked Sir Handel incredulously.

“You know Rusty’s in the workshed for maintenance,” sighed the driver, “and Fred’s not exactly the quickest diesel. We’d be out all night if we took him, and like you I don’t want to have to be out later than I have to”.

“Go on then Sir Handel,” chuckled Rheneas. “Have a good journey”.

“Yes,” added Skarloey. “Who knows… Maybe you’ll have an adventure”.

Sir Handel Said nothing. He just wheeshed crossly as he set off to find Cora and some trucks.

He returned a couple of hours later. Skarloey opened one eye sleepily, and watched as Sir Handel rolled into the sheds now more cross than ever. His crew too, looked annoyed and exhausted, and Skarloey could tell that Sir Handel had been difficult throughout the entire run.

The driver walked off as the fireman closed the shed doors, and the yards became quiet for the rest of the night.

The next day, it was Ivo Hugh’s turn to take the first train. He was still feeling rather bored.

“It’s always the same routine everyday,” he grumbled, “I just want something exciting to happen”.

He ran smoothly all the way up the line and around the loop.

They were just approaching Skarloey Station, when…

“Woah there Ivo,” called his driver, gently applying the brakes.

Sir Handel had delivered the workmen’s supplies… but had done nothing else.

He hadn’t even shunted the train into the siding out of the way, and had instead left Cora and the trucks sitting in the platform road.

“Oh, thank goodness it’s you Ivo Hugh” said Cora. “That Sir Handel just left us here, and I’ve been stuck listening to these trucks awful singing all night!”

“Hey! You have to pass the time somehow” replied one truck.

“I thought we harmonized quite nicely” added another.

“Come on old boy,” said Ivo Hugh’s driver, “we’ll just have to shunt them ourselves”.

The fireman uncoupled the coaches, and Ivo Hugh rolled forward to buffer up to the trucks.

Now, Ivo Hugh was by no means a clumsy or careless engine… But it could be said that he didn’t always remember his own strength.

He hit the trucks with a bump!

Cora felt a sharp pain near her wheels as something snapped, and before anyone could stop them, her and the trucks were rolling away down the line, going faster and faster.

“HELP!” cried Cora. “My brakes! They’ve gone!”

“Quickly!” exclaimed Ivo Hugh. “We have to go after them!”

And leaving his coaches behind, he shot off in pursuit of the runaway train.

The trucks swayed and screamed as they tore down the line.

“We haven’t had a good runaway in years” laughed one, “Go on! Go on!”

“Stop! Stop!” screamed Cora. Unlike the trucks, she wasn’t having fun at all.

Ivo Hugh pounded the rails, and was soon gaining on Cora and the runaway trucks.

“Hold on!” he whistled, “We’re coming!”

“We’ll catch em, we’ll catch em,” he panted.

Puffing hard, Ivo Hugh caught up with the runaway… 

…and immediately realized that he didn’t really have a plan beyond this point.

Since he was behind the trucks he would need to couple up in order to stop them, and there was no way to do that while they were still flying down the line.

As if he didn't have enough to worry about, he then heard a familiar whistle.

Sir Handel was trundling up the line with his passenger train. If nothing was done, there would be a terrible crash.

Thinking quickly, Ivo Hugh remembered something.

“We can send the trucks into Quarry Siding!” He exclaimed. “We must warn the signalman!”

At Quarry Siding, the signalman was just waiting for Sir Handel to pass through, when he heard a noise from up the line.

He turned to see Cora, the trucks, and Ivo Hugh whistling fit to burst, screaming down the line.

“PEEP PEEP pip-pip-pip PEEEEEEEEP” Whistled Ivo Hugh, “Switch the points! Switch the points! Runaway train!”

Acting quickly, the signalman set the points to lead into the siding, just as Sir Handel rounded the bend and saw the runaway barreling towards him.

“OHHHH ERRRR” He groaned, “STOP! STOP!”

His driver applied the brakes, and Sir Handel came to a stop.

Cora shut her eyes as her and the trucks swerved violently into the siding.

They crashed through the buffers and plowed through the dirt for some distance before finally coming to a stop!

Ivo Hugh applied his brakes, but was going too fast and skidded through the siding following close behind the runaway.

His wheels left the rails and crunched through the ballast, and he came to a stop just behind the piled up trucks.

As the dust settled, Ivo Hugh looked towards Sir Handel.

“Oh good,” Ivo Hugh sighed with relief, “You stopped… I was afraid we would run into you”.

Sir Handel was at a loss for words.

But Cora wasn’t…

“YOU STUPID ENGINE” she shouted at Sir Handel, “Just what did you think you were doing leaving me stuck on the main line! Can’t even finish a job properly can you! I OUGHTA…

This went on for some time, with Cora having some very choice words for Sir Handel indeed, and Ivo Hugh began glancing at the coaches to see if there were any children onboard.

Fred soon arrived with a crane and some workmen to clean up the mess, and Sir Handel was sent sheepishly on his way.

After being re-railed and inspected, it was found that Ivo Hugh was mostly undamaged, and it was deemed safe for him to bring Cora and the trucks back down to the yards. 

They would need some repairs, and were soon being shunted into the workshed.

That evening, Ivo Hugh was resting in the shed, when Skarloey rolled in alongside him.

“Well well well,” chuckled Skarloey, “Busy day Ivo Hugh?”

“You could say that,” replied Ivo Hugh.

Skarloey went on “I hear you had an adventure today. How was it?”

Ivo Hugh thought for a moment… Then he laughed.

“It was fun,” he decided, “But I think I’ve had enough adventures for a while”.

Skarloey could only agree.

The End

[number1spongebobfan]

One day, Skarloey the gallant old engine was huffing and puffing until he saw an injured dove that fell from a tree. It was limping and twitching drastically.

"Oh nooo!" cried Skarloey. "That poor dove. I must save her."

Skarloey scooped up the little bird into his gloves. He didn't have to worry about catching disease; he was a machine.

First, he made a mudpie that attracted yummy earthworms. Skarloey handfed the dove her earthworms. She was well-fed and less skinny now.

Then, he transported the dove to a lake by the woods. Skarloey washed the dove's feathers with the lake's water, until it wasn't dirty anymore.

"They call me a 'lake by the woods', dove," chuffed Skarloey. "That's what my name means in Welsh."

Finally, he opened his emergency kit and bandaged the dove's wing. "You are all better now," Skarloey told the dove.

Skarloey waited a while for his new friend to heal. He carefully removed the bandage. But something wasn't right - the bird was not moving.

"What is wrong, my little dove?" Skarloey asked. "Why won't you fly?"

She did not open an eye. Skarloey realized. His bird died.

Skarloey shed tears from his eyes. "What have I done?" he cried. "I - I killed her!"

Rheneas wanted to say hi to Skarloey, but he saw that his brother was very upset. "Oh dear," peeped Rheneas. "That doesn't look good."

Rheneas rubbed Skarloey's back. "She was an animal Skarloey," Rheneas said. "Animals die. It's part of life."

"I-I know . . ."

"She's a bird Skarloey. The Holy Spirit is a bird. She will fly Skarloey. She's in Heaven."

That made Skarloey feel a little better.

Rheneas and Skarloey dug the dove into the earth. They put beautiful flowers on her resting-place. Rheneas ensured Skarloey that it wasn't his fault, that he was just trying to help.

Skarloey learnt to cherish the memories of his bird. He knew she was in Heaven now, and that was where she was most happy.

[thatcheeseycandle]

//Postive rant post

I can't stop thinking about that one moment in RWS No. 8 (Gordon the Big Engine) where Gordon comes to help out James.

LIKE COME ON EVERYTIME I THINK OF THAT MOMENT I THINK OF A FATHER HELPING HIS CHILD LIKE OGJUDJGJJJG. THEM.

And as a bonus it adds onto my whole "generation" grouping thing, if you dont get what I mean then let me just-

Gen 1: N. 2 (??), N. 3 (??), and N. 4 (??)

(Gen 1 could mostly be Coffeepots like Glynn, I just don't know what to name them-)

Gen 2 (?): Rheneas (N. 2), Sir Handel (N. 3), and Peter Sam (N. 4)

Gen 3: Edward (N. 2), Henry (N. 3), and Gordon (N. 4)

Gen 4: Thomas (N. 1), Percy (N. 6), and James (N. 5)

Now how does this tie into their characters? BASICALLY, take James, Peter Sam, and Gordon as an example of things. Those three have something incommon, they have something special only known to them. What do I mean by this? Well, Peter sam's funnel, Gordon being the one to pull the WNW (Wild Nor' Western) Express, James with his special paint.

Technically this sort of thing only applies to Gordon and James and the mysterious N. 4 Coffeepot, that came before the two, since Peter Sam belongs to the Skarloey while James and Gordon belong to the main cast I think Peter Sam wouldn't count, but possibly can if he did come to Sodor before them.

But yeah, basically my point is, the next/current generation will always carry a trait from the last generation.

Thomas carries Edward's "early days" traits, Percy carries the anxiousness and moodiness of Henry, James carries the Pride and the similar haunting past of Gordon, Philip (and Mavis?) carries the self-esteem of Toby, etc. Like family in a way, except they're a found family of traumatised anthropomorphic engines

Though to mention it in a more metal-related (my term/words for blood-related/relative engines) I think the most common/well-known example would be the Gresleys, aka the telenovela other Railways watch.

How exactly would they be an example? Well to explain, since Gresleys are actual irl things and not just part of the TTTE universe, that would mean a big BIG family tree.

Meaning, Scotsman and Solario would've been passed down Great Northern's observant eyes, Sir Nigel got passed down Banbury's calming aura, Pretty Polly carried Blink Bonny's forwardness, etc etc. Like genetics, except through gold dust (some of Gordon's gold dust was sprinkled into Scotsman's gold dust in my au, so yknow. WAHBANG Genetics)

Now every family has one trait most of the family has, and in the Gresley family, it would be their Pride and brutal honesty. (mostly pride-)

[naurasweetarudesu]

Archive of AU: Star Rails Chronicle

So, basically I did this on Twitter, and I'm thinking I should 'archive' it here too since this Tumblr account is about TTTE (and Touhou) so some of you can read it and not confused when I make somw artworks or writings for this AU.

Like I said in my first artwork of Sir Handel and Peter Sam, In a nutshell, how all of this happened is: Sir Handel and Peter Sam got into an argument; Peter Sam met Proteus and wished Sir Handel would stop being such a prick; wish granted; now Sir Handel's memories are gone.

In my art style, I tend to give a character unusual eyes to emphasize something unusual about them; that's why Sir Handel's eyes look like dead fish. Since Proteus now hunts Peter Sam for the payment of the wish (which is HIS SOUL), he hides this fact from everyone but feels guilty.

While Sir Handel's memories were gone, he developed another persona (nice and thoughtful), because imagine waking up without memories and having people who claimed to be your friends and family tell you that you're used to doing awful things. You'd be like, "Oh my God, I am a horrible person." And trying to change.

But there's also a problem. Since memories are sometimes the 'binder' of your relationships with others, now that the memories are gone, who are these people to you? That's why, deep down, Sir Handel doesn't actually feel anything with them, but he craves to be a person again.

While now Peter Sam (who, yes, in this AU has a little bit of savior complex tendencies) is trying so hard with anything to jog Sir Handel's memories without telling the truth about Proteus. Since this AU is also an OC story, yeah, secretly desperate Peter Sam even 'used' Sri as a pawn to make Sir Handel remember.

2. Duncan used to work in the RAF with Douglas too. Before finally getting sent to the factory (which he hates) to work there.

3. Rusty is actually sensitive to supranatural disturbances. They (yeah, I love enby Rusty headcanon) can't see ghosts, but they know that something, someone, or some place had a different vibe. But they also like being unfazed(?) by the horror, if you get what I mean.

You can ask them to watch the most scary and disturbing video you found on the internet, and they'll say, "Hmm, this is not that scary, though." 🤨

4. Rheneas is into witchcraft and the occult. No, he's not practicing it or being an occultist or something. It's more like he got a stack of books about it and studied them.

It all began when Skarloey said to him, sometime after their centennial party:

5. Some of you already know this. That my TTTE AU is also Touhou AU. Every acts kinda focused on one thing (Act 1 is TTTE focused, act 2 is Touhou focused) but they did crossovering(?) in some point, if that makes sense.

Anyway; The reason why Proteus couldn't just approach Peter Sam in their house is because Skarloey asked Yukari to mess with the boundary around the house so any 'magical' creature couldn't trespass.

This means Skarloey did know there was something strange happening on the railway. He just kept silent about it.

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023: Day 31 - Lights Out

Don't Let the Lights Go Out at Crovan's Gate:

The day had ended, and all the engines of the Skarloey Railway were returning to their sheds to rest. Duke had broken down earlier that afternoon, his safety valve popping under all the strain he’d been putting on himself.

“You need to be more careful,” warned Skarloey. Duke raised an eyebrow. “I may have overdone it this time,” Duke admitted with a grumble. “But why are you telling me to be more careful? I saw the number of trucks you were taking.” Skarloey winced – he had taken Duke’s trucks as well as his own, straining his pistons in the process.

“Because… it was only one time,” Skarloey eventually replied. “And we have to be very careful with our health, because if we can’t be mended here in our little workshop… we go over to Crovan’s Gate.”

“I beg your pardon? I only recently came from Crovan’s Gate.” “And it’s a lucky thing you did too,” Skarloey replied ominously. Duke frowned. “You’re not telling me something, Skarloey. We both know that I will find out eventually, so you might as well be honest.”

Skarloey sighed.

“Yes, I’m not telling you something – and for good reason! Crovan’s Gate Works is haunted.” Duke went silent.

The air hung thick around them, the smell of coal, grease and steam hanging inside the poorly ventilated shed.

“Ah,” Duke said at last. Skarloey stared at him in disbelief! “You… think I’m telling the truth?” “I know it,” snorted Duke. “I was around when the Old Iron Bridge was closed; everyone was talking about it up at Peel Godred. This island hides a lot of secrets.” Skarloey chuckled humourlessly at that.

“You’re not wrong,” he said quietly. “And there’s something that lurks in Crovan’s Gate Works… no… someone.”

The lights outside the shed flickered, and Skarloey frowned. “Those blasted electric wires! Someone needs to fix them. Preferably now – especially with the time of year.” “Why’s that?” asked Duke. Skarloey sighed. “The ghost lurking around Crovan’s Gate is only able to interact with our world if all the lights go out.”

Duke made a noise of exclamation so suddenly it spooked Duncan out of his snoring! “Whaddya… want…” groaned Duncan drowsily before falling back to sleep.

“That explains the floodlight they kept shining in my face,” grumbled Duke. Skarloey went to reply, when the lights outside flickered again, then went dark. Skarloey went pale.

Outside, the wind began to pick up. The lights inside the shed wavered, but stayed on at a low, orange glow, the old oil lamp working as hard as it could to illuminate the darkness.

“Oh dear…” murmured Skarloey. Something outside moved. Across the mainline, Duke swore he could see two blood red eyes open, shifting to glare furiously at them. Sparks shot up into the night from above the eyes.

“Skarloey… what is that?” “An old Wellsworth & Suddery engine,” Skarloey replied. And he told Duke everything.

“In 1933, an old engine was sent to Crovan’s Gate Works to be overhauled to work on the Brendam Branch. He went into the workshops, and that was the last anyone saw of him. That night, a careless workman knocked over an oil lamp. The flames spread all around the wooden walls of the workshop, burning brightly as they reached up for the roof. The old engine awoke, and cried for help – begged, pleading, screamed for someone to come. But no one did. No one could. Skarloey and Rheneas were forced to watch in horror as the engine was burnt until he turned to a smoking hulk. Now, he haunts the yards at night, searching for the workman who sealed his fate.” As if to punctuate that point, the shadow of an engine raced by the shed.

“We’re safe in here, because of our light,” Skarloey said ominously. “But many a workman, coach or truck have vanished when the lights go out at Crovan’s Gate. Don’t get caught over there, Duke. Especially when the lights go out.”

The lights flickered back on, and for a split second, Duke swore he could see the horrific sight of a half-melted engine, face peeling and blistered with eyes blazing full of hatred.

Duke was more careful with himself after that, wary of the spectre that haunted Crovan’s Gate Works when the lights went out.

Back to Master Post

[anonymousboxcar]

Ever since hearing about/watching the 2021 Awdry Christmas lecture, I’ve been thinking about how Awdry’s notes refer to Duke as both a “he” and “she.”

In my headcanon/AU, I imagine Duke hearing that typo. Maybe it’s in a monograph that’s going around. Maybe it’s still a YouTube video in that universe, streamed on a laptop for the SKR’s engines. Regardless of how, Duke blinks at being called a “she.”

The others ask if it bothers him. He tells the truth: no, it doesn’t. There’s no harm behind it. “It was simply an accident,” he says. Yet he feels a pang in his cylinders.

Soon, he realizes that he didn’t want it to be an accident.

All his life, Duke assumed that he was only a “he.” His builders and managers told him so. He did feel like a “he” a lot of the time, and he didn’t have the space or energy to probe any deeper on the MSR.

But he’s on the SR now. He knows nobody’ll kick up a fuss, trusts everyone here. So he asks them all to call him a “she” some days — on days when “he” doesn’t settle quite right.

And it feels wonderful. It’s the same joy she felt when Stuart and Falcon called her Granpuff for the first time. “I’m not one for sentimentalities,” she says one evening, “but I truly feel… fuller, in a sense.”

Later, Rheneas and Rusty suggest the idea of different lamp irons for Duke. On days when Duke’s a “he,” he can wear a lamp with a copper handle. On days when Duke’s a “she,” she can wear a lamp with a brass handle. Duke loves this, taking it up once the works have the lamps ready. It’s quick and efficient communication.

“For once, ye’re plain-speakin’,” Duncan says once he sees the lamps. But he’s smiling. Duke smiles back, chuckling at Rusty’s eye-roll.

The only real bit of angst Duke feels over this whole thing is her name. She wants to keep it because she’s very proud of it, but she worries that His Grace wouldn’t think it proper anymore. “I couldn’t bear it if he asked me to be ‘Duchess’ on those days,” he admits.

“He won’t do that,” Skarloey tells him. “And even if he asks, you don’t have to give him anything. This isn’t a train to pull, after all. It’s something entirely yours.”

“We’re with you, Granpuff,” Peter Sam says, soft and gentle.

Sir Handel sits up tall. “He’ll have to get through us.”

In the end, Sir Robert expresses happiness on Duke’s behalf. “A title is supposed to empower you. If you feel strengthened by it, emboldened by it, then I’d say it’s the right fit!”

Duke is grateful. (So are Sir Handel and Peter Sam, who shelve their plans of vengeance on Sir Robert for saying anything different.) And life goes on even brighter and richer than before.

[whenthesunshinesonanewhope]

The “When the Sun Shines on a New Hope” Ships (Belated Valentine’s Day special!)

Hello, hello, my dear friends! This is your hostess with the mostess, Miss Kani, and love is in the air (or at least, it was yesterday)! Hope you’re all doing well today.

So, to celebrate the belated occasion, I figured going ahead and explaining the ships thus far in When the Sun Shines on a New Hope! All of them will be displayed in the cut below. Now, let’s get started!

Edward Atkins and Henry Grennan

Probably the most established couple so far in this human AU. Edward is rather supportive and dedicated to Henry, while Henry does occasionally experience anxiety as a result of his previous accident with the Flying Kipper. Regardless, Henry does love his jobs and thanks to Edward, he is able to find some ways to cope if he ever feels distressed. Currently, Henry is deciding to move in with Edward at his home near the Tidmouth household.

Gordon Considine and Booker “BoCo” Williams

Both of them first met thanks to Edward, but they first interacted when Bill and Ben were being little shits menaces and trying to torment Gordon with riddles until BoCo decided to calm the twins down and save him. Ever since, Gordon had noticed that BoCo was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Gordon does get easily flustered when BoCo decides to show him affection, but their relationship has grown to become something more thanks to Edward.

Toby and Henrietta Liechti

The old married couple of the Tidmouth household, who looks after Thomas, Percy, and Mavis. Similar to Henry and Edward, they both follow a supportive and loving relationship (with one person experiencing anxiety). As wise as Toby is, he does experience a few hiccups due to overthinking and difficulty with adapting. As a result, Henrietta is always there by his side in order to support her husband and make sure he feels safe.

Oliver Greenwell and Lucian “Toad” Hargrave

Toad is the ray of sunshine to Oliver’s stormy days. Both of them were childhood friends that grew up in the same village, and even when they had faced danger and even near death/“scrap”, Oliver vowed to do what he could to protect Toad. Both of them have received their own respective scars (especially Oliver), but their close friendship eventually blossomed into a romance. While Oliver does sometimes get busy with detective work, he does what he can to make time for Toad and even enjoys some of his hobbies with him, such as visiting the aquarium and looking at whales.

Donald McIntosh and Kani Okimoto

An opposites attract deal. Donald is a charming jokester who can be rather protective if need be (especially when it concerns his brother Douglas and the other Little Western Squad members), while Kani is a devoted young lady who is able to perform her tasks with ease but becomes easily flustered when she messes up the smallest things. She… sometimes gets Donald and Douglas mixed up with each other, but Donald is rather patient and knows she’s doing her best.

Skarloey and Rheneas Llywelyn

The old married couple in the Skarloey Mansion, and the adoptive parents of Rusty, Duncan, and Luke. They were both close friends since childhood, and their relationship only grew. Even when Rheneas was sent away to recover, Skarloey never stopped waiting for his partner to return. So, when Rheneas did return, they both decided to get married and settle down. Both are rather protective of the members under their household, and they never fail to do what they can to support the kiddos’ learning and give advice whenever needed.

And finally…

Luke O’ Glaisnigh and Millie Jeanne Violette

The Princess and the Pauper, if they were a couple. Luke is rather timid, especially since he had just received closure after the entire Blue Mountain Mystery episode, and he would much rather spend his days in a forest surrounded by deer whenever he is done with his work. Meanwhile, Millie is a princess and the determined, prim, and free-spirited adopted daughter/granddaughter of Stephen. Both of them balance out each other nicely, and they exude a rather wholesome passion towards each other.

And that’s about it! ❤️

This has been Miss Kani, and I’ll see you all when the sun shines on a new hope!

[str33tydr1ft]

| TTTE AU FIC | Duncan |

It was night out, just a normaly ash-fog filled night. Though, only one thing was off, Duncan was angry again, and if you know what an angry train means, it means they go feral, and feral trains, are the worst to deal with.

The other Narrow Guage engines were resting in the shed, but all of them were more or less awake. All worried about Duncan since he ran off. Rusty was the most worried of him out of them all.

"Do you think he'll come back?" Rusty asked them, it was always the same asnwer everytime.

"I'm not sure.."

After the third time Rusty had asked that question, Zander had just arrived on his motorbike to check up on them. He and the Narrow Guage engines had a bond that most humans couldn't replicate with an engine, you could best explian it in a way by comparing it to Owen Grady and his Raptors from Jurassic World. So Zander often checkup on them, since he did care about them as if they were his family.

"Hey everyone!" He spoke when he hopped off his bike.

"Zander!" Rheneas replied, getting up from his spot. Smiling at the arrivial of his friend.

"Where's Duncan?"

"He ran off-" Peter sam replied to Zanders question.

"He was angry about something- he didn't tell us and next thing we knew he tried to bite Sir Handel and then he ran off-" Skarloey continued.

"Right.. you all wait here. I'll go get him." Zander replied, he ran to his bike and started it up. He had a feeling Duncan would've ran near the quarry so thats where he drove to.

When he arrived, his hutch was right. Duncan stood in the middle of the quarry, breathing heavily. His breath could be seen through the cold air. But Zander wasn't scared one bit.

He got his clicker out, and clicked it a few times. As soon as the second click echoed out Duncan turned around to face Zander. Zander reached one hand out, with the clicker in his other hand that was raised slightly in the air.

Duncan started to snarl a bit. He was preparing to attack him.

Zander could notice it, he was frightened but he did his best to not show his fear infront of Duncan. As that would just cost him his life right there.

"Eyes on me." He kept eye contact with Duncan. Duncan did the same, his breathing still heavy.

Graddually, Zander moved closer to Duncan, one step at a time. Duncan was moving backwards in return. Every two steps Zander took was one step Duncan took back.

Eventually Zanders hand met Duncans nose. He took a calmer stance instead of the one he had before in case he needed to run. He stopped clicking the clicker and just kept eye contact with Duncan.

"Shh.. I'm here, you don't need to put up your angry facade-"

As soon as Zander said that, Duncan seemed to calm down and gained his senses back. Instead of snarling and bresthing heavily he breathed normally, and frowned.

"I-.. wha' happened?"

"The others told me you got angry, you tried to bite sir handel and then you ran off"

"Oh... oh I remeber now-..." Duncan seemed to look more upset.

"I'm sure the others will forgive you, they've been worried about you since you ran off, including Handel,"

Duncan smiled a tiny bit.

"Wanna go back?"

"Aye-..."

Zander hopped on his bike and drove back home. Duncan followed him.

When they got back, Rusty smiled and moved over to give Duncan a spot to sit down beside him. The other engines smiled at the return of their friend, even Sir Handel.

After Duncan apologised to Sir Handel, and thanked Zander for helping, they got settled in to rest up for the night. Zander, wanting to stay, sat down beside Skarloey, facing Duncan, and stayed there all night with them.

// MMMMMM OC AND CANNON CHARACTER AU CONTENTTT TASTYY!!! but yeah if you remeber that fun facts abojt my au thing i bassicly wrote a fanfic out of it to help me understand Zander more, but yeah, hes the owen grady of my ttte au and the narrow guage engines are his silly little raptors //

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 13-Corris

Traintober 2023

Other Stories

Day 13-Something New

Corris

Peter Sam was resting peacefully in the yard, all the other Skarloey engines were away with trains leaving the Ker Stuart to bask in the summer morning's peace with the other engine left behind. Edward Thomas was like looking into a strange mirror. His sibling's green paint and normal funnel reminded him of happy days on the Mid-Sodor, but Edward Thomas had been given a rebuild by the Talyllyn much like his own on the Skarloey.

Peter Sam wasn't sure why they had both been given the morning off. Normally when either one of them visited the other railway, they pulled trains for photo charters together. Instead, they had been left to simmer in the yard. Sir Handel had complained about having to take Peter Sam's train, but everyone could tell his heart wasn't in it.

Peter Sam had almost fallen back asleep when E.T. stretched, his valve gear creaking as he shifted his wheels slightly.

"You know if I didn't know better," he began, "I'd almost believe they just were giving us a day off."

Peter Sam snorted, "and Sir Handel honestly loves pulling trucks."

E.T.'s laugh ruined his stretch, "you would think he would eventually figure out he's not getting out of it."

Peter Sam rolled his eyes fondly, "He knows, he just enjoys complaining."

Edward Thomas looked skeptical, "Even though it makes your Duke lecture him?"

"That's probably why he enjoys it."

E.T. nodded thoughtfully, "I can see that, Sir Hayden happily let Peregrine berate him for days when she visited.

Peter Sam winced, the former Corris No.2's ire for her old line was well justified. She had been stripped for parts to repair Sir Hayden, then left to gather dust, only her purchase by the Cronk and Harwick had saved her from scrap.

"At least she eventually forgave him," he sighed.

Edward Thomas glanced over knowingly, "Sir Handel managed to make it worse?"

"She only visits when he's away now."

It was E.T.'s turn to wince, "what did he do?"

"Point out that at least got to know her siblings."

Edward Thomas's sigh of exasperation thoroughly matched how Peter Sam had felt at the matter.

Before they could discuss the matter any further, the thin controller walked out.

Mrs.Nancy smiled at the pair, "I glad you two are getting along, had it been Sir Hayden and Sir Handel left alone..."

Peter Sam groaned at the reminder.

E.T. blinked, "Is that why..."

"Yes," Peter Sam said.

Mrs. Nancy snorted, "Our falcon's inability to get along aside. I have a surprise for you. The Corris Railway has just got their newest steam engine, and they want you two to show her the ropes."

"Of course!" The Ker Staurts chorused together.

"That's what I hoped to hear."

"Where did they find her?" Peter Sam enquired curiously. Edward Thomas nodded, "it's difficult to find a steam engine these days."

The Thin Controller's smile suddenly reminded him of days back when she was just the Guard's daughter and was about to prank Duncan or Sir Handel.

"They didn't find her, they built her."

A whistle sounded from the shops behind them. A red engine rolled out of the shops up alongside them. She was Corris red, with yellow and black lining and a No.7 plate on her sides. She was a 0-4-2 saddle tank, with complex valve gear. Both Ker Staurts starred, and while they weren't identical, they once would have been.

"Hello!" She peeped cheerfully, "I'm Corris No.7. Are you my brothers I was told about?"