#Tidmouth station

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 7 - Sleepy

Dennis' Napping Spots:

Dennis has a number of nap spots around the Big Station, which he has rated from 1 to 10 – here is a few of them (though you mustn’t tell the Fat Controller or the other engines, or else they’ll find poor Dennis and make him work!)

The Big Station: 1/10. Absolutely not the place to sleep. For starters, the Big Station is always busy and noisy – there is no way to get any sleep when there’s so much noise running through Dennis’ radiators! Worse yet, being at the Big Station means Dennis is visible. And when he’s visible, he can be found and made to work. Dennis absolutely does not sleep here unless he’s desperate.

The Dockside: 1/10. Just as bad if not worse than the Big Station, because Dennis is always having his naps interrupted by Salty – who isn’t so interested in making Dennis work as he is keeping Dennis up with his sea shanties and tall tales. Worse yet, Dennis is not only still visible, but he’s getting sprayed with salty air. It is the one place Dennis never sleeps.

The Freight Sidings: 2/10. The trucks love to give Dennis away if Sir Topham Hatt is looking for him – they use it as an opportunity to butter up the Controller before they pull their next horrible stunt. Worse yet, it’s noisy and engines are always around and wanting Dennis to work. It is however, better than the Big Station or the Dockside because there is some cover behind the trucks.

Behind the Big Station: 3/10. There is a small siding behind the Big Station which is accessible via the Little Western only. It has a brilliant patch of sun for a snooze – but it’s also where Duck, Donald or Douglas can find Dennis the easiest. And those three are the most likely to drag Dennis back to work – once Douglas physically did so! So it ranks low on the list for that reason.

The Big Sheds: 4/10. At night, these sheds are good. They’re a little noisy thanks to the snoring, but it’s alright. However it is also always busy and every engine passing through Tidmouth will always check here first to try and find Dennis. It is covered though, so the elements can’t disturb Dennis… but then again, one time Dennis attempted to hide in the sheds for a nap and got awoken by a livid Gordon glaring down at him.

The Carriage Sidings: 4/10. There is a lot of great cover here to hide behind, and coaches are much quieter than trucks. They don’t find much interest in ratting Dennis out to the yard foreman or Sir Topham Hatt – however the coaches are almost always being brought in and out of the yards and almost every engine passes through, so Dennis is easily found and dragged off to work.

The Dockside Goods Shed: 6/10. Now this is a spot Dennis frequents. It’s in the docks complex, but inside a lesser-used goods shed. It would rank higher were it not for the fact that Salty does still sometimes use it – and well, if he find Dennis then the lazy diesel is not getting any more sleep. Moreover, once Dennis got locked in by Salty, who pushed a line of trucks in and blocked Dennies in place!

The Carriage Sheds: 8/10. This is one of Dennis’ favourite spots – it’s sheltered, quiet, hidden and near the back of the yards. The sheds are also only really used when the coaches are put away for the night and for storing the vintage stock, so there’s very little in the way of movement back here. However, Dennis is often interrupted in his napping by one very preachy coach named Samantha.

Behind the Old Fuel Pump: 10/10. If there’s a golden spot for Dennis to sneak away and nap in, it’s here. Before the diesel pump was moved inside the Big Sheds, it used to be a separate building with a track behind it for fuel deliveries. The building still stands, and the siding is completely hidden from view. No one looks there either, cause very few engines ever dropped fuel off there! But Dennis uses it sparingly so no one discovers his favourite spot and ruins it.

Napping is very important, after all!

Back to the Master Post

[mrlazycheese]

Cheese Alternate Universe Content

[just-an-emily-existing]

Poor Percy bro, he’s like the little servant for the railway! No wonder he feels put upon

"The Deputation" is a stupid title. It shoulda been called "Percy Has To Do Bloody Everything Around Here."

[joezworld]

Christmas Story

Monday morning had started with the same clear air that had made the weekend so enjoyable, but as dawn gave way to the late morning and early afternoon, the weather began to take a turn for the worse. 

Thick clouds covered most of the island - Gordon and the big engines reported that there was still sun around Barrow and Vicarstown, but as far as the Little Western was concerned, it was a gloomy start to the two week rush period leading up to Christmas. 

There were more trains scheduled - an extra morning service and another one in the evening. The peak hour “Truro Trains” were now running all the way through the lunchtime hours as a regular service, and even then it was decided that a special holiday-only service would run from Knapford to Arlesburgh at noon, to relieve pressure on the big station at Tidmouth. That train didn’t have a particular engine or coaches “assigned” to it like the others, and so the enthusiast community was out in force, hoping to see something interesting, adding to the clutter around the station. Additionally, just to make everything more difficult on the Little Western, the Sodor Bus Company, which ran services to Harwick and Ballaswein in the far north of the Island, began “double loading” their routes, meaning that the “guaranteed connection” bus service to Arlesburgh station would now be two normal sized buses, or one double decker. And then, as a final cherry on top of the whole situation, the Small Railway began running their passenger trains with as many coaches as possible. 

This all meant that when Duck’s first train left the station on Monday morning, it was full to bursting with passengers - to the point where anyone who boarded at Haultraugh had to stand!

Oliver’s train was in a similar state, but because he left before the next bus arrival, his train was merely full, instead of packed. “Ladies, I hope you’re comfortable with this,” He groused to his coaches as he left Haultraugh. “Because this is the emptiest it will be for the next two weeks.”

Isobel said something not suitable for print, and Dulcie sighed. Why do people like Christmas so much? She thought to herself. 

About the only train that morning not packed to the roof was Bear’s new morning train. Running as a timetabled, but not advertised, train, it was collecting all the passengers who would’ve been waiting for Duck and Oliver, and had no guaranteed connections of any sort. As a result, when it rolled into Arlesburgh, it was a lighter crowd that spilled out onto the platform, and the new passengers that boarded wondered why in the world there was a five car train waiting for them, complete with a Mini-Buffet coach. 

Bear had no such wonderment, though, and glared at the brass-topped funnel slowly shunting a pair of vans across the yard. He left quickly, not at all enjoying the thought of his return trip. 

-

Across the yard, someone watched him leave. They listened very closely to the way in which his engine revved and shifted into next gear, and they paid close attention to how the train moved during that moment in time. 

-

Later

The gloom had most thoroughly set in by half past eleven. Bear thought it was a most appropriate accompaniment to his mood, and growled moodily underneath the glass canopy at the big station. 

“Be quiet!” Truro hissed at him from the front. Tourists were out in force today, and there was a small crowd gathering around them on the platform. It was quite obvious that Truro wanted the resultant photographs to be of him and him alone. 

“What’s this?” Gordon blustered into the station with the force of a hurricane. “A photo session without me?”

Wordlessly, he pulled to a stop next to Truro, and proceeded to make such a spectacle of himself that the photographers stopped paying any attention to Truro whatsoever. 

“I say,” Gordon remarked at the other engine’s palpable rage. “It’s not my fault that I’m a beloved children’s book star. You were in a book too, if I recall.”

“I’m in several.” Truro snapped, each word clipped and sharp. “Most of them record books.” 

“Pish Posh!” Gordon retorted, a camera ready smile never leaving his face. Judging by his tone, Bear could tell that this was probably the highlight of the big engine’s day. “Children don’t read those! And besides, any reputable record book will show that my brother is the rightful holder of that record, not you.”

Bear’s shocked laugh was mostly covered by the demonic noise that escaped Truro’s whistle. 

Gordon winced. “I see that I’ve struck a nerve. Such a shame - if someone said something like that to me, I’d just go prove them wrong.” He looked Truro up and down disapprovingly. “But I suppose that my superior design and refined demeanor allows me to. Such a shame that you won’t. Or perhaps can’t.”

Truro went redder than a tomato and began spluttering something about lost domes, causing Gordon to laugh grandly. “Aha, personal attacks! The true sign that an argument has been lost! I do so enjoy these discussions Truro. Perhaps we can continue it later!” 

He puffed away in a most regal fashion. “And if you fine people would like another subject for your photos,” He called to the photographers, who had retreated from Truro once he’d nearly blown their ears out. “My good friend Bear is a quite rare engine indeed. The only one in regular service anywhere!”

The crowd turned to Bear, who smiled in slight fear at the unexpected attention. Meanwhile, Truro’s driver yelped as the steam pressure needle swung wildly into the red. 

-

Stephen Hatt watched Gordon roll off towards the sheds. “I do wish he’d stop doing that.”

“And his driver is completely blameless?” Charles asked, raising an eyebrow at him from across the table at the station cafe.

“One disobeys Gordon at his own risk.” Stephen mused, taking a sip of his coffee. “If he had even the slightest hint of interest I’d be trying to offer him my job come January.”

The look that his father shot him was not insignificant. “Really? Gordon? Management?”

“He knows more about this railway than the both of us put together. And he cares about the other engines. See what he just did?” 

“For once, I am completely in the dark.”

“After winding Truro up - which I don’t appreciate, by the way - he made sure to send positive attention Bear’s way. Poor chap’s had a cloud over his head for two weeks, I think being second fiddle to a famous engine like that is getting to him, even if he doesn’t say it.”

“Really?” Charles looked at the gaggle on the platform. “You think he’s not taking it well?” 

“I think that Truro is wound slightly too tight from being stuck in a museum for so long, and our little “Truro Train” promotion isn’t humbling him. Bear is inches from the limelight, but it almost curves around him to shine only on Truro.” He arched his fingers contemplatively. “It would get to anyone - in fact I’d say it's a good thing that it’s him and not someone else, because he’s willing to hide it for the time being.”

“Hmm. What do you suppose we do?”

“Right now? Nothing. We’re short a few too many engines as it is. I’ll give him some reward once Truro can run on his own, but unless we can find another engine, he’s pretty well stuck there.” He glared across the table. “And the Midland Region hasn’t exactly been playing nice on that front ever since you told… what did you tell them again? When we got Delta?”

“I threatened to beat Lachlan Macready to death with an adze if he tried to thwart me.”

A sugar cube plunked into Stephen’s coffee. “I suppose that would explain our inability to find good locomotives.”

“I deeply regret not being able to prise a Deltic out of the Eastern Region.” 

“What would we have done with a Deltic?”

“Whatever was needed. I don’t recall having to try very hard to get Wendell situated.”

“You would try to haul freight using an HST set, wouldn’t you?” 

“Now there’s an idea… maybe we could run the Kipper-”

“No. We don’t need a flashy engine, we just need a good hard worker who’s willing to do the dirty work sometimes.”

“Mmhm. Have you any good candidates?”

“No. I’m to the point where it makes sense for me to go into random yards and start questioning class 37s to see if there’s any that aren’t complete monsters.”

Charles snorted, hiding his expression behind a mug of tea. “You see my dilemma.”

“I live it.” Stephen said, stirring his coffee idly. 

There was a momentary lull in the conversation, which was broken by the sound of clattering and banging coming from the area of the bandstand. “Speaking of a lack of acceptable candidates, did I tell you that the Island Council found us another band?”

“No.”

Charles smiled self-defeatingly. “Yes. And they heard my instructions Loud and Clear. Nothing unusual, strange, or non-traditional.”

“Oh wonderful.” Stephen could relax a little. “Who is it?” 

“A German Industrial Music Collective that calls itself ‘Zusammenbruch’, or at least that's how I think it’s pronounced.” 

Stephen’s relaxation ended as swiftly as it began. “A what from where?”

Charles didn’t react. “Evidently my instructions were neither loud nor clear.”

“I don’t understand. What kind of music are they?”

“Have you ever heard of Kraft-werk? They sound like that.”

Stephen actually had to stop and think for a moment. “Is that the band that sounds like a broken car radio?”

“I believe so.”

“But that’s not Christmas m-”

“I have been assured that they are attempting to “branch out” from their usual repertoire. 

Stephen began patting his pockets suddenly. 

“Did you forget something?”

A small silver flask was produced, and a measure of brown liquid went into the coffee cup. “Not at all.”

Charles watched with an implacable expression. “So early in the day?”

“I feel like I’m going to need it.”

“Is there enough to share?”

----

Truro remained in a furious state as the packed train rolled out of Tidmouth. With five full coaches, it was a heavy load, and Bear could feel the weight on his couplings. 

The Little Western cut a winding, narrow profile along Sodor’s northwest coast. Running through central Tidmouth in below-ground cuttings and trenches, the tracks and the city eventually ran level in the northernmost neighborhoods. From there, the ground sloped upwards to follow the hillsides that make up part of the River Tid Valley. The line briefly follows the ground, before entering a tunnel, which continues the upward slope at a slighter angle for about five hundred feet, before turning into a long continuous downgrade that continues until trains burst out into the open air near Bulgy’s Bridge. 

Trains need to keep a sharp lookout in the tunnel - if going too slow while headed south, they could stall out in the tunnel, and the fumes could choke the crew or the passengers. This is a very serious issue, and so the rest of the line from Haultraugh is built to allow for a sufficient runup. 

Most engines don’t consider the downgrade section to be challenging, but that’s due to the fact that most trains going north to Arlesburgh are either passenger trains or empty goods trains - as an example, the heavy stone trains from the Small Railway only go south, not north.

A less cautious engine would therefore have rolled into the tunnel with a full northbound train and assumed that everything would be fine, but Bear and Truro had hauled these heavy rakes up the hill many times in the last week, and so the train slowly and carefully chugged its way out of Tidmouth’s city limits and neared the tunnel at a slow pace. 

Bear grimaced as they did so. The train was moving a little slower than it strictly needed to, and his transmission was not happy about it. 

Unlike a diesel electric locomotive, which uses electricity generated by the engine to power traction motors on each axle, Bear has what is known as a Hydraulic Transmission. His engine connects to a driveshaft, which feeds into a torque converter. The torque converter is a large fluid filled device that has two propellers inside of it. One is connected to Bear’s engine, and the other to his transmission, and the fluid inside allows the two to spin at different speeds, meaning that Bear’s engine can produce more torque (a measurement of how much he can pull) while spinning slower. 

From the torque converter, a separate driveshaft feeds into the transmission, which changes gears to allow his engine to put as much power as possible to the wheels, similar to how a car transmission works. From there, the driveline connects to both bogies, and powers all of Bear’s wheels, like an all-wheel-drive car. 

What’s unlike a car is that Bear’s transmission doesn’t change gears depending on load - as in, how hard his engine is working - but rather on speed. What this means is that as he approaches a set speed, his transmission will automatically change into the next gear. 99% of the time, it  operates normally, but in certain situations, the last one percent can rear its ugly head at the worst possible time. 

One such situation was currently presenting itself as Bear and Truro climbed the grade out of Tidmouth towards the tunnel entrance. The slightly-too-slow speed of the train meant that every minute or so, Bear’s transmission would shift up into the next gear. This meant that for a moment, Bear was in neutral - producing no power - and so the entire train fell onto Truro, who was pulled back by the sudden weight of the train, which meant that the train slowed down. By this point Bear had gone back into gear, but now that he was going slower, the transmission would automatically shift down into the gear it had just been in. Once that happened, Bear would start pushing again, and the train would go faster, thus starting the cycle over again. 

Now, this was bad enough - it was terribly uncomfortable for Bear, and his torque converter was starting to heat up - but to make matters worse, Truro didn’t seem to know when this was going to happen, seemingly warned only by the change in Bear’s engine noise; what followed was that every time that Bear shifted into or out of gear, the entire train would jerk roughly. This meant that there was an exceptional amount of strain being put on the gears inside Bear’s transmission, and so by the time they jerked their way into the tunnel, there was a sharp stab of pain accompanying every downshift. 

“Come - on - get - moving - you!” Finally, making everything worse, Truro was jerking on the coupling every time this happened, causing Bear’s gears to grind on each other during every upshift. Thick black smoke billowed from Truro's funnel as he put more and more power into each chuff, which echoed off the stone tunnel walls like artillery blasts. Bear was trying very hard to not break anything important, and decided that he would rather speed up and then ride his brakes all the way down the other side of the tunnel if it meant no more jerking, but Truro’s massive clouds of exhaust were making it hard to breathe.

“I -can’t - something’s - wrong - with-my” Bear gasped for breaths that he couldn’t take in.

“I - DON’T - CARE!” Truro bellowed, and with a mighty heave, he yanked the train up and over the summit of the tunnel, and began coasting down the other side. 

Bear’s transmission shifted into a higher gear and mercifully stayed there, but the gears themselves felt worse and worse as the train rattled down the grade and out the end of the tunnel. Bear hoped they could stop soon - in addition to everything else, his torque converter was getting so hot it felt like it was boiling. They crossed Bulgy’s bridge, and slowed down by a few miles per hour as they climbed a slight rise in the terrain near Haultraugh.

Then there was trouble. 

Bear’s transmission automatically shifted down into a lower gear, and Truro didn’t react at all. 

BANG

The slack in the couplings was yanked tight as Truro accelerated while Bear didn’t. 

WHUMP

Truro was dragged back to a slower speed by the dead weight of Bear, while all the coaches abruptly came together, before slamming into Bear’s back buffers.

BANG

Bear’s transmission had just shifted into the lower gear, and the coaches hit Bear a moment after the shift ended. Bear shot forward into Truro, crossed the threshold into the next gear, and his transmission shifted again. 

CRACK

Truro was now going slower, so the Bear hit Truro, the coaches hit Bear, and something deep in Bear’s transmission gave way. 

Bear yelled inarticulately as his entire drivetrain shut down. His torque converter felt like it was on fire, and there was a sharp, stabbing pain in his gears. His diver applied the brakes, and the whole train slithered to a stop about a half mile from Haltraugh station. 

--

Later

Once it was determined that Bear could at least be moved, the train was pulled (by Truro) into the station at Haultraugh. Duck was there, fuming at the delay. 

“Half a bloody hour.” He said as the train rolled in. “You picked a whopper of a day to do it, didn’t you? Lucky that Truro can haul you out of this mess.” 

Bear thought about how Duck probably had no idea about what had happened, and that he probably would’ve been nicer if he’d known exactly how much pain Bear was in. 

However, Bear was in a significant amount of pain, and so he growled at him menacingly. 

Duck jumped, startled, and didn’t say another word until he was long gone from the station. 

Truro murmured something along the lines of “That wasn’t very nice,” but amazingly, kept that comment to himself. 

After some more looking over, it was decided that Bear could be towed along with the train to Arlesburgh, and after a few more minutes, the train departed under Truro’s sole command. 

Bear didn’t see it, but the steam engine was beaming as he pulled the train towards Arlesburgh. 

--

At Arlesburgh, Oliver was much more sympathetic. “Sorry mate, that’s not ideal.”

“Tell me about it…” Bear murmured as workmen and inspectors clambered over him. 

“Look, when I get back from the big station, we’ll see how I can help, alright?” Oliver looked shockingly genuine. 

“You mean that?” Bear didn’t think that anyone on this branch line gave a toss about him.

“‘Course I do.” Oliver said with a smile. “Westerners stick together, right?”

He set off for Tidmouth a moment later, and Bear was left alone with Truro, who was already trying to convince some of the railway managers who had responded to Bear’s failure that He, City of Truro, was capable of running trains On His Own, and Did Not Need To Be Yoked To That All Day. 

“Westerners stick together… if they’re steam engines.” Bear muttered glumly. 

Across the station, Truro’s continued pleadings were cut off by the stationmaster. “Oi! You can’t leave yet, not till the surprise has happened!”

“Surprise?” Truro asked.

Of course Truro gets the surprise. Bear thought.

A look at the station clock revealed that the mystery noon train from Knapford, now heavily delayed, was due next into the station. 

I hope it’s Gordon. Bear thought, hopefully. Truro might fracture his crown sheet in shock.

Peep Peep!

Bear’s face fell.

It was not Gordon. 

It was, in fact, about as opposite of Gordon as one could get. 

“Well, well, well!” Thomas the Tank Engine crowed as he eased into the station. “So this is what Arlesburgh is like!”

--

Thomas and Truro were, to put it bluntly, besieged by photographers and enthusiasts, and it took almost twenty minutes before Thomas could run to the water tower and get a drink. It was at this point that he noticed Bear. “Hullo Bear,”

Bear had very little motivation left, and mumbled a halfhearted greeting. 

Thomas raised an eyebrow as his fireman lined up the hose. “Forgive me for saying this, but you look terrible.”

“I feel terrible, so it matches.” 

Any annoyance vanished as the water thundered into Thomas’ tanks. “Is it that bad? They only said you failed.”

“They think I shattered at least one gear, and came close to melting my torque converter.”

“Fuck me…” Thomas said, under his breath. 

“I appreciate the sentiment.” Bear had never heard Thomas swear before. 

“Sorry.” There was a hint of a blush, before the concern came back. “Is there anything I can do for you? Do you need to go to the works?” 

“They don’t know yet.” Bear said, watching as grease-covered workers pulled shards of metal out of a bin. “Probably.”

“Is there anything else I can do here then?” Like Oliver, Thomas meant it, and Bear felt extremely strange to have someone care about him after two weeks with Truro. 

Hmmm… Truro… Bear thought for a moment. “Could you… take Truro with you?”

Thomas’ eyebrows raised. “Take him with me? Where?”

Anywhere but here. “He… we… He and I don’t get along very well. I’d rather not have him sitting around the yard bored while I’m over here broken.”

Thomas looked at Truro, and then looked at Bear, and then did it again. “Are you serious? What happened to that “Western Camaradiere” I’ve heard so much about?”

“Ask Truro.” Bear said, not wanting to go further into the issue. 

The water cut off, and Thomas frowned. He was going to try and get to the bottom of it. 

A few minutes later, he was backing down on Annie and Clarabel, and Truro was sidling up next to him. “I say, whatever did that diesel say to you? Hopefully it wasn’t anything too untrue - you know how those things have a way of twisting everything.”

Thomas looked at Truro in a way he could scarcely recall doing. “No, I’m just a little upset that my friend Bear is in such a bad way.” 

Truro missed all the subtext. “Oh, please - they can probably replace whatever is wrong in an hour - their kind comes apart at the seams like a motorcar. Don’t worry yourself over that.” 

“Alright…” Thomas said, suddenly viewing the engine in a new light. “Say, would you like to come with me on my next train? I understand that you can’t go anywhere yourself.”

Truro’s delighted whistle echoed across the yard.

-

About ten minutes later, Truro and Thomas vanished into the distance, and Bear closed his eyes. Peace at last. Thank you Thomas.

-

Later that same day

Bear slept fitfully. The cold sea breeze was blocked by the sheds, and so the cold air itself felt rather soothing on his overheated and shattered parts. Every hour or so he’d wake up for a bit, and finding the yard empty, he’d go back to sleep again. 

As the sun began to set, and men from the works began arriving with boxes of tools and spare parts, Donald slunk into the yard between passenger trains. Bear opened his eyes to see him staring at the goods yard in total bafflement. “Aye, Bear…”

“Yeah? Wuzzup?”

“Do ye knoo how in the blazes they keep anything here? We canno’ find the spare mail trucks anywhere.” Donald clearly had been looking for some time, if the irritated puffs of steam from his funnel were any indication.

“Spare mail..?” Bear opened both eyes. “Oh you mean the Siphons. They’re the big bogie wagons behind the carriage shed.” 

“The what? How could ye know that? They didn’t say bogie vans.” 

“They’re old milk vans, got converted after the war.”

“Why are they behind the carriage sheds?”

“Great Western Shunting System.”

“Aye?”

Bear paused, and decided he was too tired to explain fully. “It’s how the Westerners do things. Did you not have one up north?”

“Nae?”

Bear sighed. “There is a very long and very involved rhyming… couplet… thing that explains the entire system.”

“Aye? Rhyming?” 

“This was going nowhere. “Oh yes. If you ever want to make Duck look like a fool willingly, ask him to tell you about it. He knows every line, and it takes two hours to recite fully.”

“Aye?” 

Bear smiled, shrewdly. I hope I’m around when he asks Duck. “Mhmm.” He murmured, closing his eyes. “I’m going back to sleep. Have fun with the Siphons.”

Donald left a moment later, marveling at the interaction he’d just had. 

Steaming behind the carriage sheds, he found that yes indeed, there were three bogie vans about the size of a Mark 1 coach. In front of those were two smaller and older vans that had three axles - one on each end and one in the middle. 

“Oi,” He said, rousing the sleeping vans. “Which ones of ye are the siphons?” 

“We’re all Siphons.” Yawned the first of the big vans. “I am a type G, as are my brothers. My sisters before me are both type E.”

“Oh-kay…” Bear hadn’t mentioned that there were different types. Did it matter that some don’t have bogies? “Well, we’ve got to take ye all up to the big station. It’s that time o’ year again.”

“How wonderful,” said one of the type Es. “We will have been moved twice today! Truly the prophet Truro shines down upon us.”

“And we have been visited by him as well!” The second one extolled. 

“You must forgive them.” The big type G said. “They believe us to have been visited by The City of Truro, and little can be done to dissuade them.”

“You were asleep!” “You dozed through the appearance of our exalted!” The two type Es said as one, and Donald felt very much like a stranger in a strange land. 

“Eh, not to… be speakin’ out o’ turn, but Truro has been here fer almost two weeks noo,” He said. “Ye’ll pro’lly meet ‘im once we get to the big station.”

The type G looked like he’d been told that Jesus Christ had come again (and considering everything, that probably wasn’t an inaccurate description), and Donald soon found himself pulling a train of religious pilgrims to the promised land. 

“Why can’t that railway jus’ be normal?” He muttered under his breath as his driver turned him on the turntable, the Siphons chanting what he hoped wasn’t some kind of psalm. “They’re acting like Finn McCool were gonna come skippin’ his way across the Giant’s Causeway from Ireland! This is the last time I do Ollie’s work fer him, mark my words…”

A few minutes later, the very excited train, trailing behind an increasingly discomfited engine, rolled south out of Arlesburgh. 

“Huh,” said the signalman, as he belled the train out to the Haultraugh signal box. “That’s strange.”

“What’s strange?” Said the stationmaster, who was using the pretext of a staff meeting to hide himself from the passengers swarming the station between trains. 

“They had those old three axle milk vans on the train. I thought we were using them for storage.”

“We are using them for storage.”

“Not anymore it seems.” The train vanished into the distance, only a puff of smoke visible. 

The stationmaster swore thoroughly and profusely, and left the signal box to see if the yard master had done something and not told him. 

“Want me to stop them at Haultraugh?” The signalman called, picking up his desk phone. 

“And do what? Have them brought back? There’s barely room in the schedule for them to leave.” The stationmaster called as he descended the stairs.

Then he stopped, and bounded back up the stairs quickly. “Actually, do me a kindness. Call Tidmouth and tell them what’s happening. We’ll have whichever engine they send down for Bear bring them back tonight.”

“Okay...” The signalman said, dialing the phone. 

--

Donald got held up at the distant signal for Haultraugh station, waiting for Oliver to clear the section with his passenger train. (He should have been gone almost twenty minutes prior, but knowing him, this was practically on time.) There were no other trains coming, so his driver didn’t bother to move him beyond the distant signal once Oliver steamed out of the station. It was a rather lengthy wait, as the next signal beyond Haultraugh was at the Tidmouth end of the tunnel, where the double track line to the big station began, and the incessant chattering of the milk-vans-turned-mail-cars was starting to wear on him. When the signal finally dropped, he set off with haste, and the empty train allowed him to make the better part of forty miles per hour by the time he clattered past the platforms. 

“What’s that burning smell?” a porter asked, sniffing the air as the train passed. 

Many passengers turned to point accusingly at a man smoking a particularly fragrant cigar, and almost everyone was satisfied. 

Except for the stationmaster, who sniffed the air with disapproval. “Where have I smelled that before?” he asked himself, watching Donald get further and further into the distance. 

Wait. 

Donald. 

Didn’t his train have a hot axlebox a few days ago?

Isn’t that what it smelled like?

“Oi!” He sprung to his feet and barreled to the signal box. “Stop that train! It’s got a hotbox!”

-

The type E Siphon vans had been retired for many years - so many in fact that the circumstances of their arrival at Arlesburgh was a complete mystery, albeit an uninteresting one. They had been stuck in the back of the yard at some point long ago, and there they stayed, not moving from that spot in almost fifty years. 

After The War, the station staff had begun using them as storage sheds, and their interiors were filled with all the mess and detritus that a railyard accumulates: Spare parts, groundskeeping tools, leftover fabric for the station awnings, bricks, brake shoes, train wheels, welding equipment, barrels of oil, and a few boxes of flares, among other things. 

They had seen almost no repairs since they arrived on the island, and it was a minor miracle that the journey up to this point had been problem free. The vans had attributed it to the miraculous appearance of their oft-worshipped Truro, by whose divine intervention they were now allowed to run free again. Donald and his crew - who usually handed off their trains to Duck or Oliver to be shunted - had never even seen these vans before, and so had assumed that they were movable.

What this all meant was that shortly after setting off from the Haultraugh home signal, the ancient oil packed into the friction bearing of the center-left axlebox of the first Siphon E van started to heat up. It was contaminated with decades of dust and dirt and animal droppings, and soon it began to burn. This is what the stationmaster at Haultraugh smelt, but as the axlebox cover was not only shut but rusted shut, there was no way for the fire and smoke to escape the axlebox and be seen. 

Of course, the wagon herself had noticed this immediately, but as she had accredited her new lease on life to the Worshipful Truro, she ignored the building pain. Pain, after all, was something that only afflicted those without God's love, and as she had been visited by God (Truro) she clearly should be able to ignore that pain. 

And, to her credit, she did. The lubricant soon burned away completely, all while she made nary a peep about her discomfort. 

Unfortunately, physics did not ignore this, and as her axle was now running without any lubricant at all, it rapidly heated up. 

Metal, when heated, begins to lose its shape and strength. 

As the train clattered its way down the slight grade towards Bulgy’s Bridge and the tunnel beyond, the axle got hotter and hotter, and softer and softer. 

When Bear and Truro came to a stop earlier that morning, the suddenness of the stop had put small grooves in the rails, which were then exacerbated by Truro slipping as he got the train moving on his own. It had caused bumpy rides for every train that day, and it would’ve been eventually noticed and replaced by inspectors, but… they hadn’t found out about it yet. 

The train bumped and bounced over the grooves at almost fifty miles per hour, and the center axle of the lead wagon snapped off at the left axlebox. 

For a moment, everything was fine. Both wheels on the axle remained on the rail, still attached on the other side of the car, and both continued spinning. 

Then everything went out of control. As the train neared Bulgy’s Bridge, the leaf spring connecting the center left axlebox to the van frame, now unconnected, began to sag noticeably. The many supplies inside the van began to shake back and forth from the new motion, and the shift in center of gravity caused the left wheel to fall off the rail. Bumping along the sleepers, it quickly tore off the van completely, falling to the ground where it was immediately hit by the rear axle. 

The rear axle of the van took the hit poorly, and like a stick it snapped in twain within a few feet of the impact. The van was now suspended only by the front axle and the rear coupling chain, and she swung drunkenly from the chain as the train passed over Bulgy’s bridge. 

The broken axles fell to the rails below, and were swiftly run over by the next van. There the damage was equally severe - one axle smashed up through the floor, sending boxes and barrels flying, while the other was caught between the suspension and the van body, and began dragging along the ground, tearing up sleepers as it went. There was an inarticulate cry of pain from the second van - the first sign that anything had gone wrong.

Donald’s crew heard the commotion, and applied the brakes as soon as they saw the huge cloud of dust behind them. This went badly, as it caused the three much bigger Type G vans to surge forwards, hitting the Type Es. Both Es derailed at this point, sliding along the sleepers and the ballast, propelled only by the coupling chain connecting them to Donald. 

Donald, meanwhile, was watching the tunnel mouth approach with increasing horror. They weren’t going to be able to stop before it. 

The Type G vans shoved the Type Es against each other, and in turn they smacked into Donald’s tender. Whether the coupling chain snapped or fell off at that point is irrelevant - all that matters is that as Donald steamed away without the train, the Type E vans turned sideways, sliding along the line as the Type Gs pushed them towards the tunnel. There was a snapping hiss as the brake lines separated fully, and Donald’s driver turned, seeing what was going to happen; he opened the regulator fully and shut his eyes. 

Donald stormed into the tunnel like his life depended on it. Just behind him, the sideways Type E vans slammed into the sides of the tunnel mouth. The Type G vans smashed through them, turning both to kindling, before sliding to a stop most of the way into the tunnel. 

Within seconds, the contents of the Type E vans, now strewn about the line, caught fire.

Duck, waiting at the mouth of the tunnel with his next passenger train, blinked in confusion as Donald flew out of the tunnel alone, looking like he was being chased by the devil himself. 

Donald’s smoke, thick and black from a hard run up the hill, wafted out of the tunnel… and then suddenly redoubled a moment later. 

And then redoubled again. 

And again. 

Duck eventually had to back away from the tunnel as thick clouds of black smoke poured out of it. 

---

The Fat Controller stared in displeasure at the burned out wreckage. “This is not ideal.”

“That’s an understatement,” Ted Thompson, his chief of the Permanent Way, muttered. 

Carnage was about the only word capable of describing the wreck site. The five vans had burned almost completely to ashes - only the last of the bogie vans was still recognizable, a charred and warped frame missing its coachwork entirely. The track was destroyed for over a thousand feet, a trail of broken sleepers starting at Bulgy’s Bridge that turned into a completely decimated roadbed the closer it got to the tunnel. 

And lord have mercy, the tunnel. 

The locally mined stone, usually a light gray color, was black on all sides. Bits of rock had fractured from the heat, chips and chunks spalling off all the way around the portal. The train had come to rest perfectly inside the tunnel mouth, and the heat from the fire had been directed straight up into the delicate stonework of the entrance, as opposed to the much hardier rock and brick that made up the bore itself. It was, as the first inspector on the scene had put it, “one of the worst fucking places to have a crash.”

“Do you think it can be fixed?” 

“Depends on the damage.” The man snorted, rubbing his moustache in a pondering way. “Could just be the portal and the ornamentation. Could have fractured brick all the way up. Wood don’t burn that hot, but the tunnel’d turn it into a furnace real easy.”

“How long until you can start the inspection?”

“Got some navvies up there now.” He took a big draw from his pipe. “From the other end. Heat’s died down enough by now, which is a good sign.” 

This was followed by a cloud of pipe smoke, and Charles looked up, acutely aware that both of them were dressed like it was still the Victorian era. “How long to repair the p-way?”

“Couple days, maybe a week.”

An eyebrow raised. “A week? Is this the same crew who relaid an entire section of the main line in a weekend?” 

“We had trains then.”

“And we don’t now?”

A big puff of smoke followed. “Everything is on that side of the tunnel.” Ted gestured with his pipe. “Engines, rails, cranes, sleepers, everything except ballast. We’re gonna have to bring it round on lorries, so no welded rail segments.”

Charles now understood. “And you’re going to do this on the only road into town, which is now replacing an entire rail line, two weeks before Christmas.”

“Precisely.” The pipe flared up again. “And if we’ve gotta fix the tunnel, well, let’s talk about next Christmas, aye? We’d ‘ave to go through it brick by brick almost, unless we wanna risk bringing it down on someone’s ‘ead.”

“I see…” Charles trailed off. “I want to know the instant your inspection of the tunnel is done.”

“Yessir.” With a step, Ted was off, barking orders at his work crews, his great coat blowing behind him in the cold December wind. 

A moment later, a messenger appeared. “Sir, a phone call from Mister Hatt. He reports that a bus replacement service is being organized, however it will be quote “spotty” at times due to existing commitments. More buses are being sourced from the mainland, but that will take time.”

“Thank you,” Charles dismissed the man. “Tell him that we need to speak as soon as possible.”

London may have been in one of the most generous moods recent memory could allow, but they also weren’t stupid. On the eve of his retirement, with his son waiting to take over - there was a very real chance that some limp-wristed pencil pusher with an axe to grind could choose to enact “vengeance,” and declare the tunnel a total loss. 

All the money in the world would not convince them to cut another one.

[duskstargazer]

[1967]

This was a first for Oliver. He'd hid in big station yards before, that was nothing new.

But tonight, his stake-out was in efforts to catch someone working under the cover of the night sky.

“Hey.” A voice broke Oliver from his thoughts.

“Hello, Ryan.” Oliver said, his tone rigid and monotonous.

“Hey. I wanted to um… thank you.” Ryan began, awkwardly. “For helping me with the burning dynamite. What you did was so brave, I-”

“It wasn't brave.” Oliver sighed. “It was cowardice.”

“What?”

“I should've warned you about that bad coal. I was just… afraid.”

Ryan looked perplexed. “Afraid of what?”

“You.” Oliver winced as the word left his smokebox. “I'd finally gotten here, and now I'm making one mess after another. I was starting to worry Sir Topham Hatt wanted you to replace me.”

“But he ordered both of us, didn't he?”

Oliver winced again.

“Not… even remotely. Let's just say Sir Topham Hatt didn't come to my railway. I came to his.”

Ryan's brow furrowed. “Huh…?”

“I left the Other Railway on completely my own terms. I… I ran away.”

Ryan gasped. “You're the Mystery Train?! I heard so much about you- we all did! Even after news and leads seemed to die down, word of your heroism still managed to reach us in preservation-”

“It would've been heroism if I'd been able to take even one of my relatives with me.” Oliver said, darkly.

“Hey. You did everything you could with what you had. No one can take that away from you.” The purple engine sighed. “I only wish my story had a bit more heroism like yours.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow.

“I was bought into preservation. My owner wanted a tank engine, and I just happened to be in the yard at the time.”

“You're one of the bravest engines I've ever met, Oliver.”

A silence fell upon the sheds.

“Soo… why don't you spend the night in the shed? There really is plenty of room.”

“Thanks, Ryan, but I think I ought to spend tonight in Tidmouth.” Oliver started away, looking down at the tracks. “Just in case.”

“Oh.” Ryan looked away, disappointed, until the rest of what Oliver had said hit them.

“In case of what?”

[808airsoftbros]

The Half Engine (Blackpink)

Author: Just a teaser hint for my upcoming Halloween oneshot. If you want to see more of my stories check out my Masterlist

The Original Half Engine story was by: [thebogieboy] (His Youtube) Genre: Crossover/Horror

~

Author's POV

It was a ordinary day on the island of Sodor, the engines had been working hard all day on their branch lines delivering passengers and goods across the island.

They were all looking forward to a goodnights long rest at the sheds, everyone that was except for James.

"How long are we going to be kept waiting? At this rate, will be home by nightfall," James sighed as he was waiting at the station.

"Have no fear, James, I'm confident will be back home in no time!" His driver assured but that didn't help ease his mind one bit as he had already seen the sun about to set down soon.

But it didn't help the fact that the weather forecast that there will fog this evening meaning their visibility is limited and travelling down the tracks will be dangerous.

Thankfully for James, he didn't have to wait much longer as his last passengers boarded the coaches.

James blew his whistle as he puffed out of the station to the next, the trip lasted about a couple hours and by the time he shunted the coaches into the yard, it was dark and foggy as predicted.

Despite Jame's headlamp shining brightly, he could hardly see a thing ahead of him so he had to travel down the line cautiously to prevent him from hitting anything.

Despite the Driver and Fireman being experienced navigators, they were eventually lost in the fog, and they didn't know they travelled down into a abandoned siding on the line.

"Stupid fog... I can't see a thing..." James muttered as he puffed down the line.

"Yeah, can't see anything in the distance either, no signs, nothing I'm afraid..." His driver replied and sighed.

"In that case, why don't we just get rid of these unused..." James paused as he saw something that caused his boiler and firebox to freeze.

James applied the brakes slowly putting him into a halt, the fireman and driver were confused and asked what he had stopped for.

However, James couldn't mutter a word out of his mouth as he shook nervously and the Driver got out of the cab to see what was wrong and they gasped as they caught the sight of a scrap engine.

"W-what the bloody hell?! What kind of sick person would scrap an engine like that?!" The driver exclaimed as they couldn't believe what they were seeing.

It was indeed a sorrowful sight to see the empty soul of an engine lying on the side but this was different... The engine was cut perfectly in half without error.

Half of the boiler, cab, funnel, and whistle can be seen, and they wonder how this would be possible as no skilled scrapper is capable of such a thing.

"I don't wanna know! Get me out of here! Get me out of here!" James demanded as he was too terrified to linger any longer.

The crew were quick to agree, they boarded into his cab and James reversed out of the abandon line as fast as his pistons and wheels can take him.

Back at the sheds, the engines were finally able to rest after a long day of work, Sir Topham Hatt arrived to deliver some news to the engine but they had to wait as James was absent.

Finally, James arrived back at Tidmouth sheds and the others were a bit worried and curious as to where James has been all this time as it was late in the night.

"Ah, James, so glad you can join us," Sir Topham Hatt greeted but James didn't reply as he was still too shaken from what he had seen earlier.

"Anyway, onto the point, I've come here to inform you all that we will be visited by celebrities from Korea, so I expect all of you to be on your best behavior, we do not want to give a bad impression, do we? Gordon, I'd like you to transport them from Vicarstown to Tidmouth Station, there we will begin the tour," He explained to the engines and they were quite intrigued and excited as they never had celebrities coming from across the world.

After that, Sir Topham Hatt got into his personal car and drove away from the sheds.

The engines chatted a bit about tomorrow until they eventually fell asleep except for James who could hardly sleep as he had a dreadful feeling that something or someone was watching them from the distance.

The night went on without any incident, James hardly got any sleep but still carried on with his duties as Gordon coupled to the express coaches and made his way to Vicarstown to pick up the guests along with Sir Topham Hatt.

When they arrived, Gordon saw a group of four young women, they stared at him with such curiosity and fascination that it almost made Gordon nervous.

"Ah, good morning, girls, I hope you all had a safe and pleasant trip! It's such a pleasure to have you all come to my railway, my name is Sir Topham Hatt II, and I'm the second generation running this fine railway. This is one of my prestige and trustworthy engines, Gordon, he will be taking you all to Tidmouth station, and we will begin our tour from there!" Sir Topham Hatt greeted to the four girls and they all smiled.

"Thank you for having us, sir, my name is Jisoo, I'm the eldest, and this man here is my manager," Jisoo introduced herself.

"I'm Jennie, I'm the second oldest, surely, you've once watched our music videos?" Jennie introduced herself with a hint of pride.

"My name is, Chaeyoung but everyone calls me Rosé, it's a pleasure to meet you~," Rosé introduced herself with such elegance in her voice.

"Hello, I'm Lisa, the Maknae of the group! This railway is such a nice place!" Lisa introduced herself as she admired the scenery and countryside.

After the introductions, the girls and the Controller boarded onto the express coach and Gordon puffed out of Vicarstown and began the journey to Tidmouth station.

~

Y/N's POV

As I finished doing my morning routine, I put on my work uniform, put on my coat, I put on my shoes, and walked out of the dormitory to Tidmouth sheds.

It was early in the morning at five am, I yawned a bit as I greeted Thomas as I was his driver.

"Good morning, Y/N, I heard we're getting visitors all the way from Korea!" Thomas greeted and I nodded.

"Yeah, I heard about it, they're a Kpop group called Blackpink, I doubt you heard of them... Ya know, since you're an engine," I replied.

"Oh, you'd be right, who is Blackpink and what is Kpop?" Thomas asked as he was slowly generating steam in his boiler.

"Kpop is a music genre, it's quite popular nowadays, can't go one day without hearing one of their songs, and they are talented singers and dancers, I watch them some time," I answered as I was shoveling coal in his firebox getting ready to start the day.

Then we heard a loud whistle and I recognized it to be Gordon as he rolled onto the rolling platform and joined the rest of us in the sheds.

I was wondering what was going on as Gordon should be heading out to take the express coaches by now but I was shocked to see Blackpink themselves.

They were walking with my boss Sir Topham Hatt, and they all stared at the engines with wonder and fascination.

"Good morning, everyone! I'd like to introduce you all to Blackpink, and they have come here for a tour around the island as I announced last night! To start things off, I'd like you all to introduce yourselves!" He instructed.

Henry, Emily, Thomas, Percy, and Edward all introduced themselves to the girls and letting out loud whistles as they generated enough steam in their boilers.

All except for James who still looked uneasy but he snapped out of his trance and introduced himself giving a fake smile trying to hide something.

"Wah, it's such a pleasure to meet you all! I heard so much about this place and it's amazing to be here in person!" Lisa replied as she walked up to the engines.

"Now, Thomas, Y/N, and Elliot, I'd like you to give them the tour around Sodor. Toby will be taking over your branch line for the day, that will be all!" The boss ordered us and we nodded.

"Yes, sir!' Thomas acknowledged and the controller got into his car and drove away leaving us alone.

I showed the girls inside of Thomas's cab, I let them blew the whistle a few times, but while I showed them around, I noticed James looked uneasy and so does the others.

"James, is everything okay?" Edward asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

"Oh, it's nothing..." James tried to play it off but it wasn't going to deter Edward one bit.

"Well, if I don't know any better but is quite rare... Poor little James has seen a ghost," Gordon teased.

Henry and Gordon laughed but the others remained silent including Y/N and the Blackpink members.

"I-I did see something..." James softly spoke up and the two stopped laughing.

"And what is that?" Henry asked in an amusing tone.

"I saw a scrap engine..." He answered and their smiles dropped to a confused to look.

"A scrap engine? That's it? I understand it's rather distressing to see those poor souls but we've all seen them plenty of times yet you never once looked this disturbed," Gordon pointed out but James sighed.

"T-this one was different, the engine was cut in half without a fault... Never seen anything like that before," James mentioned and the others were deeply disturbed.

Myself, Jisoo, Lisa, and Rosé, we're also disturbed about this, except for Jennie was very skeptical about the whole thing and wondered if they were just hallucinating the whole thing.

"James, you must've seen a victim of... 'The Half Engine'..." Thomas replied to him with a nervous look on his face.

"Thomas! This is no time for teasing!" James angrily growled.

"I'm not teasing you! I know exactly what happened!" He assured and Edward insisted on telling us.

Looking at Jennie's skeptical expression, I thought she wouldn't bother listening but she stayed and paid attention to Thomas anyway.

"A long time ago, when Sir Topham Hatt I was running the railway, it was the time when the North Western Railway was founded, many engines had been brought here to help including myself and others. However... there was one engine that was different," Thomas paused as he recalled the tale.

"Something horrible went wrong with her construction, she only had half a face, and the other half being her smokebox door, we could hardly understand what she was trying to say, maintenance on her was a nightmare to watch or listen to, and through all of this... She was in immense excruciating pain, every night we heard her crying and pleading for the pain to go away, it was so horrid that many of us could hardly stomach it," Thomas explains the whole story and the girls were in deep shock about this and again deeply disturbed.

Lisa and Rosé looked at each other with fear written all over their faces and Jisoo didn't say a word but Jennie was skeptical as ever.

"But the nastiest of us and even some of the crews saw it as nothing but a joke, this would all boil up inside of her and one day, her behavior changed for the worst... She became more violent, snapping at everyone she came across, even those who pitied her, and to make things worse, at night, she traveled down the sheds and down a heavily forested line, and when she returned, she swore that we would all perish on this railway, in her gargled barely identical speech, and we began to believe she was possessed and deranged in all her suffering, seeking any ways to get rid of her deformity,"

"Eventually, the Director of the Railway had enough, and he ordered another engine to take her down the smelter yard to be cut up for scrap, at the same time, myself and another engine were heading home from work, but as we made our way down the line, we saw smoke and multiple sounds of fire engines, we rushed to see what happened, and there was a sight I'll never forgot..." Thomas again paused.

"We never saw her again after that day... But rumors spread from workmen about noises on foggy nights, they all told us the same thing, it sounded like someone screaming in pain, and now it seems like her spirit still roams around the railway to this day..." Thomas finished his tale.

Again, the others were silent as the grave, deeply disturbed and terrified of this, the girls were shivering as they looked down the line wondering if perhaps the Half Engine was watching them.

"Pft. What a load of rubbish! Come on guys, you can't be seriously believing this is all real?! It's fake! Just like every other folklore tale! James, what you say may have been a hallucination!" Jennie exclaimed but the others didn't seem to agree with her.

"Jennie, I'm being serious here! It's all real and I was there!" Thomas warned her but she scoffed.

"Yeah, sure... Almost as real as any other scary ghost engine story!" Jennie sarcastically replied and Thomas sighed in defeat.

But little did Jennie know was that something was lurking in the shadows of the yard, watching the others before disappearing in the wind.

I swore I caught a glimpse of an engine down near the shunting yards but it vanished before I got a good look but I have a bad feeling about the whole situation especially for Jennie's safety.

We continued on the tour as scheduled, the camera crew and the girls were vlogging around the island as Thomas, Eliiot and I, were travelling down the main lines.

When it was getting dark, we head down back to the main line and concluded the day as we got good footage for their Youtube channel, and we arrived back to Tidmouth sheds.

After I finished putting Thomas into his designated shed, I guided the girls to the dormitory where they'll be sleeping for the rest of their stay.

"For a railway dormitory, it sure is nice..." Jisoo complimented.

"Yeah, not bad, right? Provided a place to stay and get paid, can't really beat that," I replied and chuckled.

"By the way, Y/N, is the Half Engine, real?" Rosé nervously asked and I sighed.

"If I'm being honest... That is up to you to believe what is real and what is not," I spoke to her with a solemn tone and she gulped.

Not wanting to intrude any further, I bid them goodnight and I went back into my own dorm to get some rest for the night.

~

Jennie's POV

As we settled into our dorm, the girls were getting ready for bed and go to sleep but I wasn't tired yet as I wanted to find out myself if the story of the Half Engine is real or just made up to scare us.

Regardless, I don't believe in the thing but I'm willing to give it a shot, I grabbed my phone and flashlight.

I snuck out of the bedroom without waking up the girls as I quietly exited the dormitory, the night was foggy and quiet giving an uneasy ambience.

Despite all of that, I pressed on as I made my way into the heavily forested line where the Half Engine is said to reside.

I pop up my camera app on my phone beginning to record my investigation.

"Alright, Blinks, this is the investigation of the legend of the Half Engine, where it says is a ghostly engine with half a face and the other half being her smokebox door. To be honest, guys, I'm not too sure about the whole thing, so let us find out!" I started the recording as I ventured down the foggy line.

Ten minutes into my mischief yet dangerous investigation there was nothing out of the ordinary that appeared other than some owls and occasionally deer.

Eventually I was starting to grow bored and figured this whole thing was a waste of time and began pondering if I should just head back to the dormitory.

"Aish, you know what Blinks, I'm tired so this concludes-" She was cut off when she heard a loud banshee like scream causing her to freeze.

"U-uhhh... D-did you hear that...?" She nervously asked the camera and again the scream was heard but this time it was louder.

Then I heard a faint sound of puffing of a steam engine heading my way along with the banshee-like scream.

"W-whos there?! This isn't funny?! Thomas is that you?!" Jennie called out but there was no response.

But at the corner of my eye, I looked into the fog and my stomach dropped as I saw a rusted engine charging at me. But her face was skeletal and the other half being her smokebox... IT CANNOT BE!!!

"AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!" I screamed in terror as the deranged engine was charging torwards me and was about to run me over.

I closed my eyes standing still then I heard someone shouting out my name as I was trembling and frozen in terror.

"Jennie?"

"Jennie?"

"Jennie!"

I opened my eyes fearing to see that ungodly engine but it was long gone and I sighed in relief when I saw Y/N with Thomas with worried looks on their faces.

"Are you okay, Jennie?" Y/N asked as he shined his lantern in his hand.

"I-I guess..." I answered as I was shaken.

"You really shouldn't have gone out this late, do you know what could be out here? Bears, wolfs, and maybe even dangerous people," Y/N scolded me and I looked down in shame.

I pulled out my phone to call my members as they are probably worried sick about me but I gasped when I saw my phone cut clean in half without error...

"N-no way... How is this possible...?" I trembled as I tried to figure out what the fuck happened to my phone.

"You should consider yourself luckty it was your phone... Instead of you," Thomas spoke and I looked up to him.

"What do you mean...? The Half Engine did this to my phone...?" I nervously asked and Y/N nodded.

"Not many people live to tell their tale... Instead, they are found with their corpses cut in half... Just like the engines. I saw her once myself and that's why I consider myself the luckiest man on the island," Y/N explained and shivers ran down my spine as I felt thankful that it took my phone instead of me.

Thomas and Y/N gave me a ride back to the sheds and he guided me back to the dormitory and I was in for a lecture from Jisoo that night but that was the least of my concerns.

Whatever I saw... Whether it be the Half Engine or not, I will never forget it and I feel like this will haunt me for the rest of my life.

I feel sorry and regret that I didn't believe Thomas and instead risked my own life to prove that the Half Engine is nothing but a made-up folklore tale.

Throughout the rest of the trip, nothing happened and I never saw the Half Engine again, but the thought of it lingered in my mind, and sometimes... At night, when I sleep... I feel being watched by something or someone.

[edwards-exploit]

Not pictured: The Fireman, Micheal Moraghan.

Anyway, Rushton! I know the W&SR only had four 0-6-0 tank engines but I bent canon a little to make him work (who says that they didn't have OTHER engines who helped them out that didn't make it...?)

Thomas and Edward never met him, but they WERE told of him...

more about him under the cut, though some of it might be subject to change

Rushton was built in October 1871 along another of his class MR no. 67, and he was bought by the W&SR to keep up with increasing passenger demand in 1904. His train, the "The Coastal Express", was to be an express passenger train that ran from its terminus station of Crosby to Brendam, as the railway planned to extend their line there (before abandoning the project in 1909 and moving to Tidmouth in 1912).

The fact that he's a tender engine and an express passenger engine very much got to his smokebox, as he began treating everyone and everything beneath him and developed a cold attitude- goods trains, maintenence, the tank engines, the passengers (though, in all fairness, he didn't outwardly show this and was polite to them), his own crew...

Which, for Micheal. with his short temper, did not go well. Rushton and Micheal got into arguments and Alec, who tried to play mediator between the two, got into the crossfire often. Unfortunately, the two were the only ones willing to put up with Rushton's attitude and were the ones who were semi successful in reining him in when he bullied the tank engines or when he went too fast. so he was stuck with them and they with him.

In 1909, before the closing of the Brendam Port project, Rushton was his usual self- snobbish, cold, and hard to work with. As per usual, his crew was Alec and Micheal.

Perhaps it was the weather, perhaps it was the fact that it was night and things were less visible, perhaps it was Rushton going way too fast to finish this train already so he could go back and sleep, perhaps it was Micheal arguing with Rushton and telling him to suck it up, or perhaps it was Alec not paying attention to the water levels or the tracks as he tried to tell them both to knock it off...

In any case, there was a very, very nasty accident.

...

The other engines could swear up and down that they could still hear Rushton passing them by. Especially at night. And if you listen closely, maybe you can hear the men on the footplate, trying to tell him to slow down.

(not pictured: a young thomas immediately crying because he didn't know HUMANS CAN DIE FROM RAILWAY ACCIDENTS, wellsworth and suddery no. 3 laughing at thomas- what, he's been coddled enough, let him learn!- and young edward trying to soothe a crying thomas)

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 11 A-Stalled

Day 11 A-Hill

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Thomas was sitting on a siding next to the mainline sheds at Tidmouth, resting in the sunlight pleasantly. Or he would be if not for the commotion in the sheds. Percy had taken a train of skate to Kellsthorpe Road, but had stalled on the Maron Incline, Gordin’s Hill.

James and Henry of course delighted to tease him about it, which led to Percy bringing up the times they had gotten stuck on the hill.

Soon the engines had all been fussing over who had the least stalls on the hill.

“It's named Gordon's hill!” James said triumphantly, "It can't be him.”

 Gordon cracked open an eye to fix an unimpressed look on the mogul. “I only stalled on the hill once, shortly after I arrived on the island, and there was no established banker for the hill at the time. The trucks began calling it Gordon’s hill after that, and despite everyone else's innumerable failures to climb the hill, the name stuck.”

“Gordon probably has it then.” Henry said ruefully, “I think everyone else has stalled at least twice.”

Edward tilted his head thoughtfully “I'm not certain about that Henry. I can't recall Thomas ever stalling on the hill.”

“Of course he has!” James snapped, “he's one of the smallest here.”

“Then when?” Edward asked simply.

The engines all paused, thinking before slowly turning to the tank engine.

Thomas tried to ignore the questioning looks, but eventually gave in with a sigh, “I don't remember ever stalling there. I might have, but I don't remember doing so.”

“How?!” James demanded, “there's no way you've never stalled.”

Thomas looked irritably at the mogul, “I just said it's possible I have, but I don't remember it. I've never been a mainline engine so I don't cross it that often.”

Edward nodded, “Except for the few times they've all been stuck in the shed, you had no reason to climb the hill. Well, other than when you were banker.”

James stared at Edward disbelievingly, “No. There's no way he was banker.”

Thomas glared at the red engine, “What did you think I was doing at Wellsworth your first day?”

“I thought you were just the yard pilot!”

“The Wellsworth Pilot has always acted as banker,” Henry reminded James.

Thomas sighed, “To be fair, I had been given my branchline by the time he was repaired. They finished Wellsworth’s overhaul, although she had not been named that yet, and she relieved me before James returned to service.”

Henry tilted his thoughtfully, “I forgot James never knew you as station pilot.”

Edward chuckled, “that was probably for the better. James bossing him around might have been the thing that made Thomas snap.”

[jessythebunny]

🚂Gordon the big engine⚡

💙Gordon is the biggest engine in tidmouth sheds, but not the same size of Henry, Gordon is a bit bigger than him.

💙he's a very proud and grand engine. And he doesn't give a shit about what the small engines say about him

💙Gordon likes to pull the express in the engine form, it's his favorite and his life job, but he really hates when someone else pulls the express instead of him

💙Gordon has gray marks under his eyes from lack of sleep because he sometimes doesn't sleep much, or because of his nerves because he always gets angry.

💙Don't mess with Gordon or call him slow and useless because he will get rid of you by any means possible

💙Gordon rarely likes to give advice to the little engines and is keen to tell them to stick to it, especially Thomas and Percy, but unfortunately they do not follow the advice and he regrets it in the end.

💙Gordon belongs to a famous family called the “Gresley Family,” which is a famous family in the mainland, that's why some people respect him

💙anything related with vanilla, he'll love it.

💙Gordon doesn't like to pull the goods train because he thinks that it's not a special job for a grand engine like him

💙He has a crush on Rebecca and he makes sure to make her happy and he worries about her if something happens or will happen to her

💙He likes some peace and quiet, Yes. Gordon is a quiet person and does not like to be disturbed. He just wishes to rest in peace, but this is impossible with the presence of small engines, especially Thomas.

💙In his free time, Gordon likes to race one of the fast engines, like Spencer or Rebecca

💙Everyone thinks that Gordon is the sulky and nervous father and does not like anyone telling him what to do or not do. To Thomas, he is his boring and grumpy father.

💙Gordon is arguing with Duck about the names of the stations in London, and this is funny to me ngl but they're arguing in days and nights

💙close with Edward, James, Henry, Rebecca, scottsman(brother), Spencer, Boco

💙good friends with Thomas, Percy, Hiro, Nia, Daisy, not from the nicest type of the engines but every engine gives it its value

💙he's often rude to Toby bc he thinks that he doesn't deserve to stay in the railway

💙Bill and Ben piss him off and they play in his nerves, and he avoids diesel 10.

[just-an-emily-existing]

The Origins of The Stesel Team

In the bustling world of Sodor, nestled in the sparkling blue sea of the U.K, is a humble but rightfully proud railway Island. For decades, Thomas the Tank Engine and his steamie friends ruled the tracks, their whistles echoing joyfully through the valleys.

But unlike the happy-go-lucky atmosphere of Sodor, the diesel engines had long held a grudge against them. Engines like Rusty and Mavis felt shunned and misunderstood, being seen as the “Good Diesels, at first glance, a compliment, but when you take a second look, it’s still just as bad as an insult. But all the diesels could agree that their sleek bodies and humming engines were not as loved as the traditional steam engines that paraded the rails.

The animosity had persisted for years. Any time a steam engine and a diesel crossed paths, huffs and puffs of disdain filled the air. “They’ll never change!” scoffed Diesel, his eyes narrowing at Thomas as he puffed cheerfully with his friends. Steam looked down upon diesel, claiming that their rumbles could never match the beautiful chuffing of a steam engine.

But soon, everything would change on Sodor.

A massive, almost supernatural storm had formed on the horizon, swirling fiercely and threatening to sweep across the island. Rain poured relentlessly, causing landslides and blockages on the tracks, while flooding made many stations unreachable, and winds would tear down communication lines.

Soon after, a series of announcements buzzed through the air, the engines were needed more than ever to work together to clear the tracks and get life back to normal. “This railway will never get back on track without teamwork!” cried Sir Topham Hatt, his words wavering against the looming despair. "Every engine must work together!"

At first, the Steamies were apprehensive about teaming up with their diesel counterparts. They could still hear the echoes of past conflicts rattling in their rods. But as the two factions stood staring down the broad stretch of tracks engulfed in mud, something remarkable happened. Percy, the small green engine, spoke up, his voice carrying strength. “We can do this, and we must! I know we engines usually grumble about working together, but maybe we have ideas we’d never be able to discover if we didn’t work together!”

Reluctantly, Thomas nodded. “Okay, it’s worth a shot. Let's try working together, just for a little while.”

Meanwhile, Diesel and his friends were sceptical, yet they knew the severity of the situation. Diesel 10 growled, but even he was beginning to recognize an undeniable truth: the storm wouldn’t wait for old grievances. And so, the Stesel Team was born. An unlikely coalition of steam and diesel engines. In the spirit of determination, they gathered together at Tidmouth Sheds, exchanging brief glances filled with uncertainty. “Alright,” Diesel 10 announced, trying to sound professional. “We may not like each other, but we all want the same thing, so let’s make it happen before I change my mind!”

With a plan set, teams formed: Teams like Thomas and Mavis paired up to clear debris from the main line. Teams like Gordon and Rusty worked together to shift heavy rocks blocking a tunnel, while Percy and Toby teamed up with Diesel and Daisy to transport supplies for the workers maintaining the tracks. At first, it was awkward. Mavis and Thomas stumbled over their words, with Mavis insisting on a new route only for Thomas to disagree, claiming it would be slower or which way to go next, but soon enough, they found common ground, realising that blending their strengths made a powerful team. Mavis had an efficient eye for navigation while Thomas provided positiveness, lifting everyone’s spirits amid the rain-soaked chaos.

Days passed, their resolve flourishing, and the once dense tension gradually faded. Watching the engines mingle with newfound camaraderie sparked a warm light in the heavy atmosphere. Soon, laughter filled the air, steam and diesel harmoniously blending in a symphony of clinks, clatters, and chuffs. Finally, the storm passed. With the tracks cleared and order restored, the Stesel Team gathered one last time at Knapford station, exhausted but triumphant. “Who would have thought we could do this together?” Thomas exclaimed, looking at Diesel 10 with excitement. “Not me, that’s for sure!” Diesel replied, a hint of a smile creeping across his face. Sir Topham Hatt stepped forward, beaming with pride. “Thank you, all of you! You’ve shown just how powerful teamwork can be. Today, you’ve not only cleared the tracks; you’ve cleared the air between steam and diesel. I’m proud to say you all are really useful engines!”

Roars of whistles and horns echoed through the station, and some would say the whole world. From that day forth, the Stesel Team remained a part of Sodor’s image. The steam engines and diesels continued to work together on special projects, celebrating not only the differences between them but the strengths they each brought to the railway. Even those who weren’t Steam and Diesel were accepted with open arms as old rivalries evaporated like steam in the sun, and the laughter of engines echoed through the valleys, promising that Sodor would not only endure, but that friendship would prevail

One chug at a time.

🚂💨💨💨

[traintrainingmontage]

Railroaded

Summary: Edward gives some life advice to the future Sir Topham Hatt the Fifth.

Rating: G

Word Count: ~2.5k

Characters: Edward, OC, mentions of BoCo and other engines

I've been having a lot of thoughts about the roles of engines and people, as well as the differences between what they want out of life, and thus, this Edward appreciation fic was born.

Crossposted to Ao3!

The sun had long set above the island of Sodor, making way for the moon to head off across the skies. Beneath the twinkling stars lay Wellsworth station, gateway to the rest of the Brendam Branch Line, and in the sheds at the back, BoCo was fast asleep in his berth by the time Edward puffed in.

Some things ran in the family, it seemed, and Edward couldn't help but marvel at it.

Truthfully, the blue engine preferred the berths at Tidmouth, what with their familiar hustle and bustle (as well as their vibrant excitement). That said, it was already so late, and going all the way up to Tidmouth would certainly guarantee that both the engine and his crew alike would be a rather unprofessional level of grouchy tomorrow.

"Alright, Edward," called his driver, Tiffany, as she patted him companionably on the buffer. "We're putting you up for the night. Catch you bright and early tomorrow!"

Tiffany Sand, much like her late grandfather, was a cheerful and capable sort. Edward had watched her grow up, smiling widely at him as he'd passed her hometown, and it had warmed his soul when she'd enthusiastically applied to be his driver as soon as she possibly could. The entire Sand family had always treated him well, and it had been Charlie who'd been with him during his most memorable exploit. The man had been in his early 60s, then, but the smile he'd worn all those years hadn't changed a bit. In fact, Edward could see that same smile etched on Tiffany's own face.

Driver and fireman headed out of the shed, lured by the siren's song of their warm beds. Just as Edward was about to sink into satisfied slumber as well, however, a quiet knock roused him once more. "Ah, hullo?" Edward mumbled sleepily. "Who's there?"

After a moment, a vaguely familiar face hesitantly peeked in. Short brown hair framed inquisitive hazel eyes, and a well-groomed beard and mustache complimented the fine clothes that the visitor wore. Although not terribly tall, this particular gentleman carried himself with a certain level of poise and grace that made him stand out in a crowd. The man's entire look and demeanor spoke to someone who would sport a black silk top hat one day.

Before the man could speak, Edward's eyes widened and his face broke into a broad smile, all hint of sleep forgotten. "Ah, hello, Sir!"

The visitor's brief unease evaporated at the warm greeting, and he returned the engine's grin with one of his own. "I'm no Sir yet, Edward. Please, call me Adam."

Edward momentarily made a thoughtful expression, as if he wanted to protest, but then thought better of it. He had seen the future Sir Topham Hatt the Fifth from afar a few times before, and they had exchanged pleasantries a handful of times, but they were hardly close. Still, since the man himself allowed it, and for the sake of making his surprise guest feel more at ease, Edward would do as his Controller's grandson asked.

"As you like. What can I do for you, Sir--er, Adam?" The Seagull did not bother commenting on the late hour, feeling that Adam was already well aware of the time and thus needed help with something that could not wait. As to what the problem could be, however, much less one that a steam engine could solve, Edward had no idea.

The heir to the railway sighed, digging his hands into the pockets of his blazer and idly kicking at some gravel. The poise from before seemed to have retreated, leaving only a tired-eyed gentleman standing before the blue engine. "I... I need some advice, Edward."

The engine blinked, not expecting such a comment. Yet, before he could speak, Adam began to elaborate. "My father and grandfather have always said that you're the wisest engine on our railway. They said that you were the only one they could ask questions of without feeling like... I don't know... like it would undermine their authority or be a show of favoritism or make an engine feel bad that they or you didn't have all the answers. And right now, I just need another person's perspective." Adam blinked as he registered what he'd said, giving Edward a sheepish look. "...Or, well, in this case, an engine's."

Edward carefully considered the request. It was true that previous Fat Controllers had come to him for the occasional answer to a question they had or to get his opinion on something, but it was usually a matter of them already having a plan or idea in mind and confirming it with him as a matter of course; a supervisor conferring with a trusted employee to ensure that the idea was a sound one.

Adam was not doing that. Instead of the confident tones that Edward had come to associate with the Controllers' family, Adam's voice sounded... lost, almost. Vulnerable. And from the way he was speaking, he had nowhere else to turn.

Somehow, in this moment, Edward was reminded of Thomas.

"Very well, Adam," Edward replied gravely. "I'm happy to hear you out and assist you as best I can."

A look of pure relief came over Adam's face, and he gave a quiet sigh. He then approached Edward slowly, pulling out and setting up a nearby folding chair so that he could sit beside the engine's buffers.

As he made himself comfortable, the heir took a deep breath, clearly trying to determine what he was going to say and how to say it. Edward waited patiently, expression unjudging. "I... the truth of the matter is that I'm not sure I'm cut out to run the railway," Adam began, his eyes flicking up to Edward's to see what the engine thought.

Edward blinked, surprise evident all over his face. "Really? I would never have guessed. Whenever I see you, you always exude such confidence."

A self-deprecating laugh escaped Adam's lips. "All part of the act, I'm afraid." He ran a hand through his short hair, his gaze lifting toward the ceiling. "I'm already 28 years old, Edward. I've gone to university, graduated top of my class in engineering, and know everything there is to know about train maintenance. But finance? Management? Oh, Edward... there's still so much I don't know."

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as his eyes slid over toward the steam engine once more. Edward met his gaze calmly, simply listening and taking it all in.

"Father is just over 50, but he's already said that he plans to pass everything off to me once grandfather retires. He enjoys traveling alongside the Duke and promoting the railway much more than he likes staying here and working. That's why Uncle Charles and Aunt Emily have stepped up in his stead. But... I..."

Adam's hand slipped down to cover his face, obscuring all but the wan smile creasing his lips. "Everyone expects that I'll take over for my grandfather, become Sir Topham Hatt the Fifth, and run the railway as well as they all did. But truthfully... I'd rather work in the Steamworks. I've always enjoyed repairing machines, being more hands-on than anything, and I don't want to worry about the finances and business negotiations and investments. My sister Courtney is much more money-minded than I am; she should run the railway! But I just... I don't know. Everyone's expectations are just so... heavy."

Finally, his hand fell back down to his side, exhaustion clear in his young face as he stared at Edward. "Edward... what do you when you've been given a job that you're not sure you can do and never asked for, but everyone says you'll do a good job and you need to do a good job or else everything will fall apart, and... and... and..."

Adam's voice finally fell quiet, the only sound rumbling through the shed being that of BoCo's quiet snoring. Edward silently thanked the Lord, and the Lady of Gold, that BoCo was a sound sleeper.

That said... what was he to say? Engines thought very differently about work and duty than humans did. Part of Edward wanted to comfort the young heir, but the kind of thing that Adam found comforting would probably be very different from what Thomas or Bill & Ben would need to hear. Not to mention that Edward hardly knew what a human would find comforting. But truthfully, Edward was a fan of giving truthful advice, and trying to tell Adam what he might want to hear didn't sit well with the old engine. If that was the case, there was really only one track open to him.

After a long moment, Edward finally heaved a sigh and hesitantly started to speak.

"Well, Adam, I don't know how helpful my advice will be, but I shall try to answer as I would if an engine asked me such a thing."

Adam simply nodded, some of his exhaustion seemingly turning to curiosity.

"You see, engines are born to serve and live to serve. It's our purpose, our reason for being, and it's said that our drive to do right by our railways is a gift granted by our patron saint, the Lady of Gold. I'll tell you about her another time, if you don't mind," Edward smiled, seeing the young engineer's curious expression.

"But all the same, many of us still have preferences regarding which jobs we prefer to do. James, for example, is very vocal about which tasks he enjoys doing." The blue engine gave a quiet chuckle as he said this, and the young Hatt laughed along with him. "And yet... he, like the rest of us, will do whatever he needs to do for his railway. We are all made for different things, with different builds and specialties, and we place our trust in our Controllers to tell us how best we can help."

"Ah..." Adam sighed despondently. "So I guess I should just listen to my family's wisdom, then?"

"Well..." Edward paused, mulling over his words. "At the same time, if an engine was given a task that they weren't built for, that would cause problems. The task needs to be assigned to the right engine, and if the engine knows that a task isn't simply something that they don't want to do, but something that they aren't made for, then they are duty-bound to tell their Controller. Of course, their Controller should know better than to force an engine into taking on the wrong tasks in the first place."

The Seagull sighed, feeling slightly frustrated at not being able to give as clear of an answer as he would have liked. "But Adam... you aren't an engine. You are a person, and as a person, the number of things that you can do in this world is greater than I could ever fathom. If you held no affection for this railway, I would have no idea as to what advice I could give, but I can tell that you love the North Western Railway as much as both us and your predecessors."

A quiet smile crossed Edward's face as he thought of Tiffany.

"On this island, a love of railways seems to be an inherited thing. Your father and grandfather are likely placing such pressure on you because they believe in you, and truthfully, it is my opinion that you could indeed rise to the challenge. If it was simply an issue of confidence, I would encourage you to believe in yourself and take up the task that your Controller has entrusted you with. To do what you were 'built for,' so to speak."

The tender smile on Edward's face did not wane, but his gaze softened as he looked upon the young Hatt. Ribbons of moonlight cascaded through the shed windows, illuminating their faces. "However, Adam, it sounds to me like this is more a matter of what makes your fire burn. If you truly believe that you are better suited for a different set of tasks than railway oversight, speak with your sister. Form an alliance. Show your worth as a mechanical engineer to your father and grandfather, and prove to them that you can do the job that you want better than the job that they wish to give you. As I said at the start, we all have preferences. As long as your desires align with your capabilities, there is no shame in pursuing what you want within the bounds of reason."

Adam stared at Edward for a long time, awe reflected in his hazel gaze. "They were right," he murmured. "It won't be as easy as you've described, but somehow, you've given me the confidence to try. You really do know everything, Edward."

The blue engine barked a charmed laugh, pleased that his advice had been useful after all. "No no, don't give me that much credit! I really just..." Edward quickly cut himself off as he looked almost guiltily toward BoCo, who was fortunately still snoring away. Once reassured that the diesel hadn't been disturbed, Edward looked back at the future head engineer with a smile. "I really just have experience to thank. Whatever your role on this railway, Adam, I have every confidence that you will do it wonderfully. I swear to place my trust in you, just as I have with every Hatt before you. And all of the other engines will do the same."

Slight tears had begun to bead in Adam's eyes, and he swallowed sharply, staring with a glassy gaze up at the engine. A tentative hand came to rest on Edward's buffer. "I'll take care of you, Edward. You and all the others, whether I become Controller or a mechanic or whatever else lies before me. I promise."

"I'll look forward to it, then," Edward replied softly, his voice tinted by a gentle camaraderie, and Adam smiled lightly, wiping the remains of the tears away. A beat of silence stretched between them, the moon the only witness to an inherited promise sealed in soul.

Suddenly, vibrations sounded from Adam's pocket, and the young Hatt reached a hand in to grasp his phone. He glanced at the screen, eyes widening at what he saw. "Oh goodness, it's already this late... I'm so sorry to have kept you, Edward. I should be going home, and you ought to get some rest."

Edward just sighed; he probably didn't want to know what time it was if this was Adam's reaction. "Yes, I believe I shall. Take care on your way home, Adam, and please--feel free to seek me out again if you'd like. This has been quite an enjoyable talk."

The young man grinned, some of the poise from earlier creeping back into his posture as he made to leave the shed. "I think I'll take you up on that sometime, Edward. Good night!"

"Good night, Adam," Edward echoed, a smile on his face as the young man let himself out and quietly closed the shed door behind him. Once again, Edward was alone, save for BoCo's snores, but his firebox felt light.

As his eyelids fluttered shut, the engine's smile remained, and a single thought echoed in his mind.

Good night... Sir.

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 19 - Admire

Douglas Couldn't Help It!

Douglas smiled softly as he watched the station. It had been only a couple of years since his dramatic escape from British Rail and arrival on Sodor, but Oliver was already fitting in like a natural. The Great Western engine was an absolute social butterfly, able to charm the big engines with ease even as he made Duck laugh with all his in-jokes that only the two truly understood. He was admittedly still a little wary of the diesels - especially Bear and Daisy whose classes had worked around where Oliver had lived and replaced him and his siblings - but even then he was growing more confident around them with each passing day. 

“It’s nice being on Sodor,” Oliver had confided in Douglas. “Diesel and steam engines can live in harmony here without fear of one replacing the other.” Douglas couldn’t agree more, he himself feeling more at peace with the diesels on Sodor with each passing year. But the way Oliver seemed so relaxed and confident in himself, it made Douglas feel all sorts of things. Douglas couldn't help it! Oliver was so suave and witty and brave - how could he not admire him? 

As if on cue, a cheerful whistle blasted in the distance, and Oliver steamed in. Douglas puffed over, a broad smile already growing on his lips. “Hullo Oliver, how was yer run?” “Oh, hi Douglas,” grinned Oliver. Douglas felt like his fire was about to melt right through his firebars and fall all over the line. “The run was good - I don’t think I’ll ever get over how beautiful this line is!” “Aye, it is a fabulous little line, though I’m sure yer old line was also nice.” “Oh it was!” Oliver began, “but… then the diesels began to arrive, and we didn’t get to use the line as much. And that was after they replaced most of the Autocoaches with their Mark 1s… nasty, heavy things!” Douglas just hummed, a little dopily. Oliver chuckled, shooting Douglas a megawatt smile that went straight to the poor Scot’s boiler.

“I’ve got to go, and I think you do too,” grinned Oliver, already beginning back down the line with his train. Douglas blinked, and looked back. His guard was tapping his foot impatiently, and when he spotted Douglas finally paying him some attention, gestured to the trucks. Douglas went red with embarrassment and hurried to get back to work.

As he back down onto his trucks, Douglas looked over and spotted Mike sitting on the Arlesdale Railway’s tracks next to him. Mike was shooting Douglas the most disgusted look an engine could, his face scrunched up comically. “What?” “You’re besotted,” sneered Mike. “It’s pathetic to watch – just talk to him like a normal engine, ask him out if you have to! But stop gazing after him like he’s some damsel in a Hollywood film!” Douglas just sighed. “Ye'll understand ane day.” “No I won’t! Who would I even look at like that? Frank?! You’ve lost it, Douglas!” Douglas ignored the little pillarbox of an engine and steamed away.

Douglas worked hard all day, trying his best to find another time when his schedule matched up with Oliver’s so they could chat – only much to his dismay, it just didn’t happen. Poor Douglas was never in the right spot, and all he could do was watch as the cute Autotank vanished out of view with his passengers.

“Ah canae tak it anymore! Hou is it thon A keep missin Oliver by mere seconds?!” burst out Douglas to his twin that night. Donald snorted. “Ye're juist unlucky. Iver considerit playin cards - ye'd have more luck thare than i love!” Douglas rolled his eyes at his twin and went unhappily to sleep.

An entire week went by in this manner, with Douglas managing one or two short conversations each day where Oliver would leave him absolutely flustered and whining to his twin about the Western engine he had rescued. Donald indulged his twin with a wry grin, remembering similar conversations he’d had to listen to back in Scotland and back at Tidmouth.

Finally, Douglas managed to strike good fortune. On Saturday, he finished up his duties near Tidmouth, and convinced his driver to let him sleep there the night, so he could try strike up a conversation with Oliver again. But as he neared the shed, he heard voices – it was Oliver! And… Gordon?

“I mean, he’s just so strong,” sighed Oliver wistfully. “I suppose, though I don’t see the appeal personally,” came the reply. Douglas felt his boiler pressure drop. Who was Oliver talking about?

“I mean, have you seen him?” went on Oliver. “Especially at night! Watching him go by is a true sight.” Gordon snorted. “You talk like he’s me! Please, just because we—” Douglas reversed back down the line as fast as his wheels could carry him. Oliver liked another engine. Oh.

Oh no.

And Douglas knew who it was too – a strong engine who ran at night and Gordon could relate to? It had to be Henry! Gordon and Henry had shared a shape, and Henry hauled the Flying Kipper. It made so much sense, didn’t it? Of course Oliver would want someone like Henry, who was strong and caring and determined! And the two shared a shed too, so of course they had gotten to know each other well; and to think Douglas thought he had a chance.

Douglas managed to get James to agree to trade his late evening coal train – which was not that difficult, all things considered – and got as far away from Tidmouth as quickly as possible. He delivered the coal, then slept unhappily at Vicarstown.

Douglas didn’t say much for the next few days. He did his work, sighing quietly but still treasuring every smile Oliver sent his way. The Fat Controller had listened to his rather sudden request to help out on Edward’s branchline and agreed – for a few days at least, but all too soon Douglas was back on the Little Western.

Donald had noticed Douglas’ change of mood almost instantly, but waited a few days before confronting his twin.

“Richt, ye've been mopin aw week. Whit's wrong wi ye?” snapped Donald at the sheds. Douglas jumped, and looked at Donald for all of three seconds before gazing down at his buffers, a defeated look gracing the Caledonian’s features. “Oliver likes a different engine. A dinnae want tae get i the way thouch - A'm no some insane jealous idiot wha refuses tae see him happy without me thouch – e'en gin it's wi Henry. A'll juist admire him from afar an wait for these feelings tae gae away.”

Donald stared at his twin for a long, silent minute. He didn’t know what to say – Douglas believed, of all things, that Oliver liked a different engine. “Are ye sure?” he asked delicately. Douglas sniffled a little. “Ay, A overheard him at the sheds. He wis talkin tae Gordon aboot his crush. A'll be ok, juist... give me some time, aw richt?”

Donald agreed, and watched as his twin fell asleep. Then, he groaned aloud. “These twa idiots,” he grumbled. “A'm gaun'ae have tae talk tae Duck aboot this.”

Duck agreed with Donald. “Oliver’s been moping about Tidmouth too,” he huffed. “These two are as dumb as each other, I swear. We need to do something about it.” “Douggie wonae dae anythin - he's committit tae "just admirin him from afar" like some sort o chivalrous knicht.” “So it’ll have to be Oliver,” Duck realised. Donald agreed grimly.

These two would definitely need a push in the right direction – and thankfully, Duck knew exactly what to say…

“You’re an idiot and now Douglas thinks you like Henry.”

…Or maybe not.

“He thinks what? How?!” “He overheard you talking to Gordon about him and somehow misunderstood everything. The only reason I know is cause he told Donald, and I put ten and eleven together and figured out how dim-witted the pair of you are. Go ask that dumb Scot out already or I will dump you with Thomas.” “I get along fine with Thomas,” huffed Oliver. “He’s having another spat with Percy,” Duck replied with a groan. Oliver shuddered. The two still remembered the screaming match the pair had had in the middle of the Big Harbour a month back – it had been so bad that Gordon had to drag Thomas away while Henry held Percy back from chasing after the blue tank engine.

“Those two fight like cats and dogs,” sighed Oliver. “inconsistently and whenever it suits their fancy.” Duck couldn’t help but laugh, before pausing. “Don’t try and distract me – go ask Douglas out!” Oliver groaned, and puffed away to go do just that.

He found the Caledonian dozing in his shed up at Arlesburgh. Thinking quickly, Oliver convinced the signalman to let him roll onto the same line as Douglas, puffing right up to the Caledonian’s bufferbeam. Douglas opened a sleepy eye – and then bolted right awake.

“Oliver?!” “Hi Douglas. You know, I heard a very interesting thing today.” Douglas gulped, feeling his fire go cold. “O-oh?” Oliver grinned at the nervous engine, and smiled cheekily. “Oh yes – a birdie told me that you liked someone. And imagine my delight when I found out who.” Douglas listened intently – and then it sunk in. “Delichted? Are ye…”

Oliver smiled at the Caledonian, and rolled forwards until he buffered up to him.

“You’re an idiot, you know that? I like you, not some other engine. Strong, runs at night, saved me, blue like Gordon? It’s you.” Douglas just blinked dumbly, then groaned. “O course Gordon wad compare our paint juist sae he coud talk aboot himself!” “Of course,” agreed Oliver. “But I’d rather not hear you talk about other engines when we’re talking about us.”

Needless to say, Douglas was flushed bright red for the rest of the day and Oliver scored himself a Caledonian boyfriend.

Back to the Master Post

[steam-beasts]

Fun Game Concept!

So as you know, Choo Choo charles is a open-world game that has you constantly being hunted down by a man-eating steam engine monster while also gathering enough upgrades and weapons to kill it. Well, I just thought...

...what if it was on Sodor and the monsters were the ttte characters we know and love?

The game would take place after BWBA (but better), and would be followed up as a sequel to my TATMR, which I'm currently writing. There would also be a few elements from Security Breach, which would involve you getting collectibles or weapons that would benefit the player independently, having to sneak through certain areas.

The Story

It's been years since Lily and Patch, along with Mr Conductor had saved Lady and her magic railroad from doom. Both are now young adults when Lily gets a strange letter from her grandpa, asking for help. She decides to see what's going on and Patch tags along for the sake of it. One thing leads to another and the two find themselves on Sodor again.

But something's wrong. The engines have transformed into beast-like creatures, attacking anyone they see on sight. Mr Conductor and the two soon reunite and are enlisted to help find a cure to stop the insanity. Along the way, Lily and Patch must dodge, weave, stun and defend themselves from the horrors of Sodor!

Gameplay + tutorial

In this (not real) ttte horror game, in the first segment, you play as Mr Conductor.

Mr Conductor is who you play as for the tutorial and the rest of the segment. The tutorial involves you learning how to collect items, sneak through areas where engines are roaming and how to shoot/throw and distract enemies using the environment around you. The location of this tutorial is on Misty Island, and the tutorial uses the location as an advantage to help the player be able to navigate through foggy or dark areas without a flashlight.

The three main antagonists for the tutorial are the Logging locos (they seem fitting for baby-step missions) who are always gonna be patrolling the Logging station and beach.

For the rest of the segment, Mr Conductor is tasked with helping around the camps that are inhabited by most of the Sodor residents. Here are the tasks;

1# Reach the other end of the Logging station without being spotted (tutorial begins here)

2# Find the storage hut to store the fish

3# Talk to Ruth

4# Collect 10 peices of jobi wood around the camp to help Ruth build the handcar

5# Give the wood to Ruth

6# Talk to the three railway controllers

7# Find Junior

8# Use the handcar and go to Sodor

Collectibles

Scattered around the island are a total of 13 wooden sculptures of the engines. They can be found in areas that are linked the most to them.

The Thomas sculpture can be located in the mines, a call back to Down the Mine.

The Percy sculpture can be found hanging off the edge of a dilapidated truck, a somewhat reference to Percy's Predicament.

The Edward sculpture can be located at the back of his old berth at Tidmouth Sheds. This is a reference to Edward's Day Out.

Style

The game would have ps1-style graphics and the environment is really dark to increase uneasiness for the player.

The engines

The engines are the enemies of the game. They don't have any dialogue as they've all gone nearly fully insane and feral, practically animals at this point. So good luck begging them to stop, your pleas will fall on deaf ears.

But they're not evil! They're just hungry...I promise. The hunger is strong, so powerful that it hurts. They are just as innocent as you...

The engines are so hungry that they don't want a friendly chat. You smell...so good, every fleshy creature they find smells so sweet...so divine...so delicious. Looks like you've got some massive mouths to feed, Sir.

They stalk around the darkness, looking for something to eat, somewhere to sleep, somewhere to be free. Sodor has recently been gathering a lot of dark clouds, making everywhere dark, but they don't mind at all. Too much brightness hurts their eyes.

You'll know who and where they are, just listen for the blast of a whistle or the honk of a horn.

[sparkarrestor]

Trust Thomas

Adapted By: SparkArrester

I suppose you could call this a "RWS" rewrite since it follows the RWS Quarry tramroad but meh

     Thomas the Tank Engine was having a great time. The sky shone, there were no delays, and that dratted policeman had been reassigned. Toby and Henrietta settled in well, and all were soon firm friends. Toby arrived to run the quarry tramway, but after the policeman left, Thomas still helped out from time to time. He much preferred to be with Annie & Clarabel.

“Me and the passengers have a special bond!”, He'd say, “They trust me to be at the station on time!”

One day, the Fat Controller visited Thomas and Toby.

“There are many new houses being built at Tidmouth, and a good portion of the stone shall come from the quarry here.”, He said, “There will have to be lots of extra stone runs, and straight to the big station as well!”

“That sounds like too much work for just one engine, sir…”, said Toby, “And Thomas is needed for the passengers!”

“That is right, which is why James shall come and help out.”, replied the Fat Controller, as he got in his car and left.

Toby rolled his eyes.

“James won’t like this very much…”

“Well!”, chirped Thomas, “I won’t let his sour attitude ruin anything!”

Toby was right. James didn’t like this very much.

“Being on a branchline is bad enough, but spending all my time hauling stone? Yuck!”, he groused, “How do you stomach being cooped up in here?”

“Quite easily!”, Smiled Thomas, “Trust me James, I’m sure you’ll grow to love it! The beautiful scenery, the people, the-”

James snorted and clanked off.

James seemingly ignored the scenery and people in favor of complaining about anything and everything. There were no turntables, the sheds were too cramped, the trucks were too dusty, the sidings were awkward, and that wasn’t even half of it. He seemed to be spreading the bad atmosphere, for the trucks complained at being bumped and Toby grumbled about James’s shunting. For every complaint, Thomas’s smile became a little more forced. 

A few days after he arrived, James was resting at the big sheds. He had just delivered a long line of stone trucks and was resting when Gordon pulled up alongside.

“So? How’s little Thomas’s branchline treating you?”

“Terribly.”, came the blunt reply, “I wish I didn’t have to go up there again…”

“Well…”, snickered Gordon, “If you were ill, you wouldn’t have to do the stone runs, would you?”

“That’s a great idea! I’ll try that now!”, smirked James, “Look, here comes Thomas!”

James put on a sick face as Thomas pulled up alongside.

“Hello Gordon! Hey James… What's wrong? It’s a gorgeous day! For some engines at least…”

“It is lovely, but not for James. He’s ill!”

“Yes he is, I mean, I am! I don’t feel well at all!”, James said quickly.

“That’s a shame…”, said Thomas, hoping to sound as sincere as possible, “Don’t worry, I’ll take your trucks for you.”

“That’d be a great help!”, replied James, and he watched Thomas puff away to collect the empty trucks.

“That was easier than I thought…”, he mused to himself.

Thomas collected the trucks from the yard and started off back to the quarry. His good mood seemed to be returning.

“Things will be far better without a big red nuisance ruining everyone’s day!”, He thought as he arrived at the quarry.

The workmen were surprised, but didn’t really make a fuss as Thomas was uncoupled and ran to collect the loaded trucks. The trucks, however, murmured to themselves.

“We were expecting the red monster, not Thomas!”, said one.

“What, did he enjoying getting ticketed?”, said another.

“Well…”, finished a third, “If we can’t pay James out, we’ll play tricks on Thomas instead! One engine’s as good as another…”.

And with that, the trucks began plotting their tricks as Thomas, blissfully unaware, coupled up to them.

James, being a bigger and stronger engine, was able to take longer trains. Thomas should have remembered this and left a few trucks behind, but he didn’t. As he was coming down the quarry line, the trucks surged into him.

“On! On! On!”, they cackled.

Thomas fought for control, but his wheels only skidded on the rails. The men at the crossing saw this and telephoned the signalman. Thomas shut his eyes as he was switched onto the runaway siding and ran off the end, into a muddy pond. Thomas opened his eyes as the trucks laughed like hyenas and a toad croaked angrily at him. Thomas just grit his teeth.

Edward arrived to help clear the mess, and James arrived to take away the trucks. He looked ashamed as he drew the trucks away.

“Er… are you alright?”, he asked.

“Am I alright?”, grunted Thomas, “No, I’m not. Things were going so well here, and then you had to come along and ruin it with your moaning, and I tried to be nice and I tried to help you see the bright side and now look! I’m-”

“That will do, Thomas”, said a voice.

The Fat Controller strode up to Thomas.

“The damage isn’t too severe, but you will still be at the works for a few days. James, you will do the stone runs and Thomas’s work while he’s away. Maybe you will learn not to tell lies in the future.”

“Yes sir…”, muttered James quietly.

He said nothing as he rolled away with the stone trucks.

The next day, Toby was dozing in the shed when he was woken up by James. He watched with surprise as James collected Annie & Clarabel and made his way to the station.

“That’s odd… I thought he’d grumble about getting up early…”, murmured Toby.

It was the same the rest of the day. Passengers, goods and stone, James hauled it all with no complaints. Soon afterwards, there seemed to be a stark change in the red engine. He began talking to passengers on the platform, as well as admiring the scenery. He even became good friends with Mrs. Kindley.

Thomas returned a few days later. He was waiting at the station by the river when James came in with Annie and Clarabel. He watched, gobsmacked as the passengers thanked him as they got out.

“I should have trusted you Thomas,”, Smiled James, “Branchlines aren’t so bad after all. I’m sorry for lying.”

“Don’t mention it.”, replied Thomas, “I’m just happy you finally had a change of heart.”

James smiled as he left, some of the passengers saying goodbye as they did so. Thomas thought nothing of it until he heard them talk about how charismatic and lovely James was to talk too. To say Thomas was jealous wouldn’t be too far from the truth.

[joezworld]

Christmas Story

So yeah, I really did drop a 15,427 word chapter on you guys last time. Hope you liked it.

The Fat Controller had to be summoned. 

There had been, immediately following the shouting and the yelling and the shovel and the wrench, a near perfect silence as everyone tried to digest what had just happened. The snow had muffled a great deal of the natural sounds, and it amplified the quiet. 

The silence that occurred after the Fat Controller finished roaring at Truro would have been as equally complete on a brisk summer’s day as it was on snowy Christmas Eve. 

Not even the snow dared crunch under Charles Hatt’s feet as he walked away, then stopped and turned on the ball of his foot. He pointed at Truro, and the engine jumped slightly. “I expected better of you. I will not make that mistake again.” 

He continued on his way back to the station. On the platform, the stationmaster, signalman, and yardmaster were staring in wide-eyed shock. “See to it that he is returned to his owners post haste.” The Fat Controller hissed as he walked by, not even turning to face them. 

The doors to the waiting room opened and shut with a slam, and they were alone on the platform for a moment. Then the doors opened again, much more softly, revealing Stephen Hatt. He was calmer, but no less furious. “So, which one of you got his nose like that?”

The three men looked at each other. “Someone from the P-Way gang.” Said the stationmaster. “Don’t know his name.”

“An’ Ted, one of the drivers, got him with the shovel,” the signalman spoke up. 

Charles didn’t say anything for a while, rummaging through his coat pockets for something, eventually fishing out a silver flask. “Tell them “well done”.” He said, popping the cap off and taking a long drink. “That one deserved it.”

-----

The news spread up and down the line like wildfire: 

At Wellsworth, Edward was outraged, his smoke jagged and shaky as he fumed. “I cannot believe I didn’t notice!” he raged at himself. 

BoCo, on the other buffer, was less upset. “I can’t believe they broke his nose. I wish I could’ve seen it. I hope they don’t fix it before I can see it.”

-

On Thomas’ branch line, the engines were horrified. “He did what?” Toby said, horrified and aghast. “Doesn’t he have any decency?”

“He thought he did,” Thomas said quietly. “It’s just that his version of decency is quite indecent to everyone else.”

“He’s a goddamned fundamentalist, is what he is,” Percy grunted. “They’re always trouble.”

“Forget him,” Daisy scoffed. “What about Bear? Has anyone told him?”

-

Bear smiled when the stationmaster told him. For reasons that he couldn’t properly express even to himself, he’d started sleeping out behind the shed in Barrow, and had planned on having a very lonely Christmas. “They roughed him up some?” He chuckled. “Well isn’t that the best present I could get. Warms me up a bit just thinking about it.” 

“Yes, I imagine it would,” the stationmaster replied, keeping his uncharitable thoughts about Western steam engines to himself. 

“Say, is there any way I could get back to Tidmouth sheds by tonight?”

“The Fat Controller already called. You’re on the next train out of here.”

-

In the sheds, there was a very distinct rumble of anger at Truro’s actions. 

“Some icon he is,” James scoffed. “Let the mainland have him, I say!”

“I cannae believe that he’d stoop so low.” Douglas growled. “An’ do all that.”

“I coulda’ been killed!” Donald interjected. 

“You and me both…” Oliver said, voice quiet. “I can’t believe that I didn’t see it.”

“None of us did,” Delta said. “I thought he was a run of the mill bastard, not… one of my siblings.”

There was a wave of agreement through the shed. “He really is a diesel, isn’t he?” James said. “In all the very worst ways. No offense.”

“None taken.” She mused. “I ought to adopt him. Lord knows we’ve lost enough of the ranks in the last few years.” A pause. “Oh he’d hate that, wouldn’t he? The idea that a diesel likes him.”

James and Oliver both snickered at the thought. “You should do that. He might melt his crown sheet.” “You can have him, I don’t imagine anyone else wants him.”

A little bit more laughter echoed across the diesel-steam divide before Delta rolled her eyes. “Gosh, that means I’d have to put up with him, wouldn’t I? Maybe not then.”

“Yeah, for the best.” “Probably.”

“What do you think, Gordon?” She looked over to where the big engine was uncharacteristically silent. “Anything?”

“Hmm?” Gordon raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I don’t think I have anything productive to say right now.”  

James raised an eyebrow, and barely managed to stop something insulting from coming out of his mouth. Gordon caught it anyway, but recognized the effort. “Truly, I don’t.” He paused, exhaling a deep breath. 

James’ eyebrow was joined by one from Oliver. 

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Oh fine. You want my piece?” He exhaled again. “There are lines that are created when you reach this stature, when you become the face of a railway. They exist for Flying Scotsman, they exist for Mallard, they exist for Duchess of Hamilton, and they exist for myself.” He looked deeply serious. “In time, I feel that they may come to exist for Thomas, even.” Another pause. “These lines are not… restrictions, but they are there, constantly. You are the icon of the railway - of your lineage. Your actions reflect upon everyone. To cross them, to break the norm, is a very serious thing indeed.”

There was a choked noise from the other end of the shed, and everybody looked over at Duck. 

After the… event with Truro, the Fat Controller had cancelled the rest of the Little Western’s services for the day - Oliver needed to be checked for damage, and Duck (who had heard everything) refused to move under his own power. Donald had pulled them back to the big station, and pushed them into the sheds. 

Duck hadn’t said a word since, and everyone had assumed he’d fallen asleep. 

Whether he actually had was immaterial, because he was now awake and crying quietly. 

Oliver and the others immediately tried to comfort him, and Gordon was left alone in the clamor. “It’s a serious thing,” He said, unheard by everyone. “Because you stop being an engine, and start being a legend.”

He watched as Duck wept silently. “And people put a great deal of faith into legends…”

--------

It is almost Christmas.

--------

At some point close to midnight, as the last passenger trains for the mainland slipped off into the distance, an inspector came to the sheds. Now that it’s quiet, he said. Someone needs to bring Truro up to the big station. 

Gordon was still in steam, and volunteered before anyone else could say anything. 

He went light engine, taking due care in the tunnel, Bulgy’s bridge, and the points outside Haultraugh station. How many hours, pounds, and men did it take to fix the problems caused by one engine? He thought as he made his way down the line. 

The station at Arlesburgh was empty, with everything buttoned up tightly for the holiday. There was a sliver of light coming from inside the shed of the small railway, but everything else was lit only by the moon. 

Truro sat by the shed, alone, cold, and forgotten about; his glossy paint, which usually reflected light back into the air, seemed to be absorbing it, leaving the area around him darker than the rest. 

Silently, Gordon slipped into the goods yard, and retrieved two flatbeds and a brakevan. Nobody, engine or crew, wanted to be near the disgraced Westerner, and so the flatbeds acted as physical separation; the van was to make sure that they didn’t have to rely on Truro for any braking power. 

The trucks watched silently as Gordon collected his train. “And they said tender engines don’t shunt.” one voice whispered from the sidings. Gordon didn’t dignify it with a response. 

“Are we taking him to be someone else’s problem?” Toad asked as Gordon coupled up to him. 

“We’re getting there.”

“Excellent.”

Truro finally seemed to realize what was happening as Gordon marshalled Toad and one of the flatbeds next to him. “Are you to ‘take me away’?” he asked, mockingly. 

Gordon, Toad, and the trucks glared at him, but otherwise remained silent. They stayed silent as Gordon was turned on the turntable, the train was put together, and then set off for the big station. 

As they left the yard, seemingly every truck in the yard called out "good riddance!”, breaking the silence for the first and only time. 

Truro seemed unnerved by that for just a second, but the train had been oriented so nobody actually had to look at him, so it wasn’t a sure thing. 

“What?” He asked as they rolled towards Haultraugh. “Not one word for the condemned? Are you all so poisoned by the soft thinkings of this island that I don’t even get a final goodbye?”

“City of Truro.” Gordon said finally. “I understand the things you went through. I went through many of them myself.”

“I don’t think that you di-”  

“And I thought, perhaps naively, that you and I were similar.”

“Similar? Pah! Our similarities end at the coal that goes in our boilers!” Unseen by everyone, Truro was twisting up his face in bitter mockery, and making his already broken nose worse with each facial contortion. 

“I know,” Gordon said as he negotiated the train through the temporarily-repaired switch at Haultraugh. “I assumed that our differences were the core of our similarities, Our roles as leaders of what was left of our lineages. I am the first Gresley, and spoken of in the same breath as Mallard and Flying Scotsman. You are the Greatest Westerner, and often come up in concert with Brunel himself.”

“Oh get on with whatever pretentious moral judgement you want to give me, and spare me the sermon.”

Gordon’s face twisted into a frown. “I assumed incorrectly, and it will not happen again. You are not like me, nor my brother. You are no luminary, no role model. You have a half-baked record to your name and little more. You are a disgrace to your railway and mine.”

Truro’s response was lost to the noise as the train entered the tunnel, and no more was said after that. 

Gordon completed the trip in silence, and left Truro in the yard near the station, surrounded by empty tracks and a brick wall. He made sure to move Toad and the flatbeds before he left, and then sidled up next to him. 

His crew jumped down, and began setting Truro’s handbrake and chocking his wheels. “I’m a disgrace?” Truro said, clearly trying to get the last word in. “It’s you who is-”

He was cut off, not by Gordon, but by the clocktower from the Catholic Cathedral. It bonged once, twice, eventually twelve times, and then launched into a deep, bass-y version of Carol of the Bells. 

“Merry Christmas, City of Truro.” Gordon said as he steamed away. “I hope that you find happiness someday.” 

-

A few minutes later, he arrived in the shed to find everyone sleeping the sleep of the exhausted. He noted with some joy that Bear was parked squarely between James and Delta, and was snoring away like nothing was wrong. 

“Merry Christmas, everyone,” he said as quietly as he could, while his crew banked his fire.

He didn’t go to sleep just yet, though. He had to think about something…

[duskstargazer]

[2014]

Within a week, Stepney was back in steam. He was quite impressed with how quickly the Steamworks handled the overhaul.

Both Stepney and the controllers had agreed that he had to see the rest of the railway while he was on Sodor. It would, they'd decided, be a huge lost opportunity otherwise.

He decided the best place to start would be to see Tidmouth again. He was pleased to see that much of it had stayed the same. There were a handful of new faces, but the labyrinth of switches hadn't changed. It could be a nightmare figuring out signals to switches if you didn't know the area. It took the terrier a bit of a while just to make it through the big station!

When he arrived, he met Duck at the platform.

“Allo, Duck. Good ta see you again.” Stepney smiled.

“You as well!” Duck replied. “How have you been? It's really been too long since we last spoke.”

“It certainly has. Things back home've been great - we've taken in quite a lot of new engines, and many of our own from the old days are either back in steam or- well, back in working order at the very least.”

“Mm.” Duck wasn't sure what to make of that.

“Well, while you're here, come up the branch line some time. There's a small railway up there that'll blow you away.”

“I'll be sure to!” Stepney smiled. “But for now, how've you been?”

Duck grinned, and began recounting. Soon, the two were talking and laughing like the old friends they were, about everything from conniving shunters, to triple-headers, to small white ducklings.