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barricadebops Ā· 1 year ago
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I'm this close to deleting some of my old fics on AO3
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lynzishell Ā· 6 months ago
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The Present šŸ¤ San Myshuno
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Prev // Next
Transcript below the cut:
Phoenix: [whispers] Gā€™night Annie. Love you.
Phoenix: Sheā€™s finally asleep. Dawn: Oh good. Phoenix: You wanna watch a movie or something? Dawn: Umā€¦ no. Not tonight.
Phoenix: Whatā€™s on your mind? You seem down. Dawn: I need to tell you something. Phoenix: Okay. Dawn: You remember the letter, the one from your dad?
Phoenix: The one you said you shredded? Dawn: [nods] Yeah, I didnā€™t do that. I kept it in case you changed your mind. Phoenix: Iā€™d be lying if I said I was surprised. But I havenā€™t changed my mind, and Iā€™m not going to. Dawn: Why?
Phoenix: You know why. Dawn: I guess I just donā€™t understand. I really think you should at least read it. See what he has to say. Phoenix: It doesnā€™t matter what he has to say, Dawn. Heā€™s never been a father to me. He doesnā€™t get insert himself into my life and start now. Dawn: I know, butā€¦ Look, if you read it and still choose to throw it out and never contact him, then thatā€™s fine. Iā€™ll never bring it up again. But at least youā€™ll be making that decision with all of the information.
Phoenix: You read it. Dawn: Yeah. I did. Phoenix: I suppose that shouldnā€™t surprise me either. So, what does it say then? Clearly thereā€™s something in there that you think is important, so what is it?
Dawn: Well, I- I think you should just read it. I think itā€™s better coming from him.Ā  Phoenix: Thatā€™s bullshit. I donā€™t care about him or anything he has to say. But I care about you, and I want to know what has you all twisted up. So, tell me. Dawn: ā€¦ Phoenix: Dawn? Dawn: Fine. Heā€™s nine years sober, he lives out west, and he has an eight-year-old sonā€¦ You have a brother.
Phoenix: ā€¦ Dawn: Do youā€” Phoenix: How long have you known this? Dawn: ā€¦ Phoenix: Right. Youā€™ve kept this from me this whole time? Dawn: Iā€™m so sorry. It wasnā€™t my intention to keep it secret. I just thought you needed time, so thatā€™s what I told him, and then life just got so busy and before I knew it weeks and months were going by, and Iā€”
Phoenix: W-wait. Back up. Told who? Dawn: What? Phoenix: You told him I needed time. Whoā€™s ā€œhimā€?
Dawn: I said that? Phoenix: Mhm. Dawn: Okay, look, I just sent him a short email and told him that we got his letter, that you didnā€™t want to speak to him, but I thought maybe you just needed some time.
Phoenix: ā€¦ Dawn: ā€¦
Dawn: Phoenix? Phoenix: ā€¦
Dawn: [walks over to him] Please talk to me. I know youā€™re angry, butā€” Phoenix: Angry? Thatā€™s a fucking understatement.
Dawn: Iā€™m soā€”
Phoenix: I have been very fucking clear how I feel about this, about him! And yet you went behind my back and contacted him?! I canā€™t even wrap my head around that! What the hell would possess you to do that? I ask you to destroy the letter, and you do this?! And you keep secrets from me?! Iā€” You knew I had a brother and yet, every day, EVERY FUCKING DAY, you looked me in the eye, and you said nothing! For months! What the fuck, Dawn?! WHAT THE FUCK?!
Dawn: [reaches out to him] Phoenix, please calm doā€” Phoenix: Do not fucking touch me right now!! Dawn: [flinches away]
Phoenix: Shit. Iā€™m sorry. [deep breath] Iā€™m gonna go for a run. Dawn: What? Now? Phoenix: I canā€™t be here. Dawn: Please donā€™t go. Phoenix: Iā€™ll be back. I justā€¦ I need to think.
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my-sentences-prompts Ā· 2 years ago
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354.
"I love you."Ā 
"I know you do, and that's the problem."
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doodlejoltik Ā· 4 months ago
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Anni news is coming on the 24th! And we have confirmation that we're getting a new main story arc!
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Extremely normal and not at all ominous Volo moment:
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youtube
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themousebehindthecurtain Ā· 4 months ago
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hello!!! now that the mice are in the picture i feel like i can start actually start pulling my weight with the "marketing" side of things so.......here is an art blog where i can breakdown some of the process stuff that goes into making the comic.
first! before anything! go read my comic! it's about a witch who tries to break a curse on some people who got turned into mice but it turns out they want to stay mice!! my sister and i work sososo hard on it and also it's silly! read it here @notinvitedtothemouseparty or on the neocities our younger sister made (mouse-party.neocities.org)
now that we've got some basics out of the way, when annie (sister) and I first started throwing this idea around we realized we wanted the mice to look like a completely different art style than the rest of the comics. the easiest way to do this would, obviously, be to get a non-annie artist to draw them.
i am a non-trained artist, outside of like. elementary school art lessons. but during the first COVID lockdown, i had started a silly little challenge to draw a mouse (completely unrelated to this project) a day every night before bed and sent it into the group chat we share with our sister. going back over these drawings, it was really cool to see how i progressed drawing the same thing consistently and we started to discuss whether or not *i* should be the one to draw the mice. which um!!! made me a little nervous ngl! annie is very talented! and i didn't really know how to draw hands!!
but when we put some of my mice on her backgrounds it felt kind of undeniably charming. the contrast between the watercolors and the paper doll-like mice worked really well together and i think ultimately ends up serving a good thematic statement. this comic is fundamentally about Growth And Creativity In The Face Of Weird Horrors And Situations Alsoā„¢ and what better way to show that than conducting a story-wide psychological experiment to see if i end up going from being a scribbler to an all-around okay illustrator! could get better at art, could get worse! the goal here is fun and also to finish a project amen forever and ever!
the division of labor was set: i would draw the mice, annie would draw literally everything else
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aruanimess Ā· 21 days ago
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Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Armin Arlert/Annie Leonhart, Mikasa Ackerman/Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss, Armin Arlert/Bertolt Hoover Characters: Armin Arlert, Annie Leonhart, Mikasa Ackerman, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss, Jean Kirstein, Reiner Braun, Bertolt Hoover, Pieck Finger Additional Tags: Tumblr Prompt, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Minor Reiner Braun/Jean Kirstein, Minor Pieck Finger/Jean Kirstein, Fluff and Humor, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Gestures, Flash Fic Summary:
This is a collection of short fics I published originally on Tumblr inspired by prompts from the 'quiet acts of love that make me cry' list.
The pairings are as follows: Chapter 1 and 2: AruAni Chapter 3: MikaHisu (+ minor ReiJean) Chapter 4: Berumin Chapter 5: AruAni (+ minor JeanPiku)
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annawayne Ā· 7 months ago
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Whispers Of The Verdant Lament
Mavka AU*
*Mavkas, in Ukrainian folklore and mythology, are the souls of women who had died an unnatural, tragic death; they often appear in the form of beautiful young girls who entice and lure young men into the woods, where they "tickle" them to death. Mavkas have no reflection in the water, nor do they cast shadows; they have green hair and pale/green skin, sometimes - naked.
In the forest, you're not alone. Smerekas* with their long trunks stretch up to the sky, cutting the cloud with emerald needles and wooden veins. The soft moss covers the soil, echoing each step with rich crisp. The horizons are flooded with grass, erasing the limits, prolonging the space as if it's infinite harmony of savage, wild nature. The forest is the tribe, with its rules and rhythm.
Armin knows - every family hasĀ secrets, so does the forest, and every shade of green keeps the story of someone who made this place their tomb. And Armin also knows - the distant cries of the mountain river breathe with the last words of his Annie.Ā 
It was an accident, the unmerciful, cruel circumstance. Her feet slipped, a second - and the river took her. A day later, they found her lifeless body, and Armin was sure -his lungs filled with water of mourning he never would be able to get rid of.Ā 
His vision aches from the bright light as he reaches the cliff, where the tense tree line meets the sharp edge of the earth. Here it is. The place where everything ends - and as well would his life. She was the place between his ribs, and after she was gone - it couldn't be replaced; it whistled with grief and sorrow, nothing and no one could fulfil. She was everything - the feeble smile in the morning with sleepy eyes and groggy voice; the crystal laugh as they chased one after another in the slopes under the prominent spring sun, only to fall into the embrace of long grass, giggling and hugging each other; the tiny sparks in her eyes and the steady, slow breath as he playsĀ trembita**; the delightful hum when the bilberry* she has plucked from the bush turned to be sweet and juicy; the adorable blush on her soft cheeks and the broad smile only he was able to see after they made love; the exceptional stitches on shirts she embroidered for both of them... Oh, of course, he's wearing the one right now. With his wedding outfit, she never has the chance to see.Ā 
Armin sighs and closes his eyes. Annie made stitches not only on the fabric but also in his heart and body; he carries her unique embroidery and ornaments on the skin and soul of her life and love. It's almost unbearable to see his reflection because every part was kissed, touched, and loved by her. And now Armin stands at the same cliff and ready to take a step forward: not a tragic coincidence, like with her, but the decision.Ā 
"Armin."
He is sure - this is the wind. Another trick of nature, his imagination, anything.Ā 
"Armin."
No, no, no, it's all in his head. But tentative, almost slow, he turns his head, and he sees-
"Annie," her name exhaled like the air he needed all the time she was gone. Tears immediately filled his eyes, blurring his vision, but even with this, Armin captured her hair slightly green, her paleā€”more pale than usualā€”skin, green lips, and her favourite long undershirt, which she wore that fateful day.Ā 
"Long time no see, love," A small smile paints her face, and Armin steps towards her, running in her direction.Ā 
"Annie, Annie, Annie, An-"Ā 
Her small hand rises up, and with a gesture, she pleads him to stop. Like a spell, his feet halt, and his chest rises with heavy breath; he is sure not from the run.Ā 
"You can't jump from this cliff." her calm words fill the air between them. "You should live a long life, see the world, like you dreamed abou-"
"But I wanted to do all of it with you!"
"But I'm gone, Armin. I live in this forest, and you're still there, without strings to the place. You still can do it for both of us. "
The tears completely covered his eyes, and uncontrollable sobs cut all of his intention to say the word. So,Ā sheĀ smiles again, and the gentle voice follows, "You should live, and when you would be the grumpy old man, you would come to this forest and call for me. You would stretch your hand, and I would take it, as I always did, and then, you will be young again, and we will be together one more time, and forever; we will be lost in the slopes and the rivers, in the grass and the mountains. But only then. Not early, not today. Only then,"
"Annie, IĀ lo-"
"I know. I do, too."
"I miss-"
"Me too."
"An-"
"Only then, Armin. This is the condition. So, live. Live, and we will meet again."
His words are muffled with sobs, so the only thing he manages is to nod.Ā 
"I... I don't know how, but I'll try. I miss you so much."
"I'm always there in your heart. I never left you, so...carry me to the world with you because this is the only way I could see it. Our hearts are connected, after all, so... Show me the world, Armin, as we dreamed about."
Armin closes his eyes, and the nails dig into his palms. It starts to hurt. "I'll try, Annie. I'll try."
The phantom touch caressed his cheek and made him open his eyes, and her face was right before his. Her dreamy, ghostly eyes are glossy and hazy with fog, but he recognizes this shadeā€”his favourite, hers. Her lips quickly brush against his, and the hushed whisper follows: "It's nice to see this wedding outfit on you. You look so wonderful and beautiful. I really wanted to show you mine, but... I will be waiting for you, love."Ā 
And with this, she is gone.Ā 
Again.Ā 
The shadow of her cold kiss still lingers on his lips as Armin falls onto his knees, and the loud song of the mountain river is muffled by his cries.
*Smerekas or Picea abies - the pine tree that is widely growing in the Ukrainian Carpathians;
**Trembita is a type of wood-made alpine horn. It is common among Ukrainian highlanders, Hutsuls,Ā who live in western Ukraine (Carpathians). According to the ancient Hutsul tradition, a trembita should be made from a thunderbolt, i.e. a tree that has been struck by lightning. The age of the tree should be 120-150 years.
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wexhappyxfew Ā· 7 months ago
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folklore or whatnot
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(a/n): for a month or two now, i've had three to four pages where i have blurb ideas just sitting in my drafts with no home or no direction, so now i've decided to utilize those pieces and do a little something with them for the silver bullets girls! AND! can happily say this snippet that i started with gets to see the light of day! early annie x brady mentions for anyone interested (i know we have the annie x brady girlies out there hehe), along with more of co-pilot francis montez (whom i wanted to do more writing for!), so please enjoy!! <3 note: LOTS more info regarding cpt birdie faulkner!! woo!
It had actually been Francis Montez that convinced her that she deserved to head out to the local pub that a good portion of the men from the 100th went on nights where they didn't have to stay on base.
Annie had considered the fact that Francis was actually coming around in more ways than one; after Annie's first successful mission aboard Silver Bullets, commanding their crew, from take-off, dropping the bombs and landing, Francis had turned to her in the cockpit and given her a firm look, with a smile itching at the corner of her lips. And ever since, Francis seemed to be making a more conscious effort to be around Annie. Whether it was because Francis was missing Captain Faulkner or was recognizing Annie's capabilities to command a flying fort, Annie appreciated it in more ways than one.
So, when Francis had come up to her mid-afternoon, as they were all stood around after a practice run, she had off-handedly mentioned the pub, and offered Annie to come along with them, "You don't realize how much you need something like that until you're there." Francis had promised. A majority of the girls were dispersed throughout the pub for the most part, huddled around tables with other men from the 100th or at dart boards, or taking a smoke break outside. It seemed everyone had their spots and positions and it was only Annie who felt out of place.
A replacement command pilot was enough of a set of shoes to fill, not even to mention what the reciprocation would ultimately be like.
"You want a beer?" Francis asked her as they stood side by side in the entrance. Annie felt a bit bad - Francis was clearly comfortable and used to this environment and Annie was holding her back a bit. Annie looked up at her co-pilot and nodded firmly, hiding the bit of hesitancy that was for sure living in her eyes.
"Sure." Francis nodded her head towards the bar.
"They're usually warm soā€¦" Francis started, glancing her way with a small smile, "don't feel bad if it tastes a little funky." Annie watched as Francis got two beers and then pushed the warm mug into her grasp.
The thing was, it wasn't the warm beer or the atmosphere or even the people - it was the thought of alcohol in her system. She never had really had a problem until she had joined up and wondered if she'd become like her mother. Drunk as a skunk on any chance she had, downing beer and cheap liquor while her 15-year-old daughter ran the house. Annie swallowed nervously looking at the beer and glanced back up at Francis, who was staring at her confusedly (and with good reason).
"You good, Bradshaw?"
"Fine." Annie answered quickly, pulling the mug up to take a small sip, which did taste a little funky, "Where do you usually sit?" Francis quirked out a smile and nodded over to a table where she could see enough names to know it was certainly an officer-heavy section.
"Birdie and Iā€¦.." Francis started, the 'I' getting caught in her throat a bit, "we always sat with them. As officers, ya know? Buck always saved us seats." Annie watched her quietly.
"Past few times thoughā€¦."
"Yeah." Annie offered, noticing the sudden emotion warping Francis' eyes, "Let's go, let's have a sit." Francis nodded to her slowly, before turning and leading the way.
Annie watched the back of Francis' head, her dark hair down and curled, as she expertly navigated the tables and people in the crowd all around. It was very natural for her all of this - while Annie felt more stiff-backed than she ever had. She was trying to get better with that.
But, ever since maintaining the control of Command Pilot, everything she did felt monumental as in, if she fucked up, it would reflect on her crew. If she said something on the wrong end of a note, it'd fall back on, you guessed it, her crew. Her girls. And she didn't want others thinking of Silver Bullets badly, nor the possible swirling idea that Lieutenant Bradshaw couldn't lead like Captain Faulkner could - that losing Captain Faulkner was the worst thing to happen, but clearly obtaining Lieutenant Bradshaw had been worse. No. Annie was determined to make her impressions and personally, she wanted to make them worthwhile.
She was command pilot for Silver Bullets for a reason.
Clearly someone trusted her.
"Boys." Francis said as she approached, rounding on the group, as Annie's eyes quickly darted about the table, picking up the likes of Majors like Cleven and Egan, along with navigators Crosby and Payne (he went by Bubbles though, she was sure Bessie had mentioned that). Kidd was also there, with Brady and DeMarco and a few others where her mind was going blank. A few British pilots sat opposite, evidently quite, almost brooding. Annie looked to Francis again, watching as a few of the men called out to her, before looking to Annie who was still stood, frozen, with a mug of warm beer in her grasp.
"Francis Montez, you actually made it out, huh!" one of the Lieutenants called from beside Cleven - the name was gone from her mind as she watched him clap Cleven on the back before standing and reaching out a hand, to shake Francis' before the two turned and he was bounding towards Annie.
"Hey, Lieutenant, uhā€¦."
"Bradshaw." Annie said quickly, keeping her eyes on the man watching as he smiled at her, eyes lingering from the British, to the man to her, coming around the table and wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
"Bradshaw, I don't think we've met, Curt Biddick, it's a pleasure to see you here tonight, 'specially mingling with a few guys like us, huh?" Annie saw Brady roll his eyes, as Biddick let out a chuckle, "I'm just joking with youse, I swear. Look, I'll buy you a drink-"
"Curt, do you really gotta do shit like that?" Francis said, pulling him from beside her, and bumping his shoulder, "Instead of a drink, how 'bout you offer her a seat, huh?"
"I think that's a great idea," Major Cleven offered as he stood from his, nodding to his spot between where Biddick had been and Major Egan who looked up at her with a wide grin, "Have a seat, Bradshaw." Annie looked to Major Cleven and nodded slowly to him.
"Thank you, sir." she said, stepping forward and settling herself into the seat, Cleven turning and grabbing another chair to pull up on her other side as DeMarco pulled in a chair for Francis and she settled between him and Major Egan. With almost the comfort of the men of the 100th around her, looking forward and seeing the British still watching her, quiet and contemplating, she felt slightly out of place under their stares. But, she was here for a reason, among ranking officers in the American Air Force.
"So," one of the British pilots - RAF possibly, RAF definitely - said leaning forward, care to introduce us to your new friend." The group sort of wentā€¦quiet if that was the word for it, "What happened to the other one? Too much to handle? Flying in broad daylight, huh?" Annie noticed Major Egan leaning back in his chair, looking ready to pounce himself across the table, and took it as her opportunity to intervene before someone said something they'd regret.
"1st Lieutenant Annie Bradshaw of the 100th. I'm Command Pilot for Silver Bullets, B-17. 418th." Annie said with a nod, "Captain Faulkner died on impact on a mission a month ago. I got the call and was beyond honored to fill those shoes." Looking at the British as she finished speaking, she reveled in the silence and sipped at her beer and then placed it back down on the damp wood of the table.
"So, no, not at all too much to handle," Annie said, tapping her fingers on the glass and offering a smile, "I just have the intention to do what I can for the bombing crew now and show I deserve to be here. Just like the rest of us. With a greater focus on the cause; winning the war."
"We all have our call to arms that we're answering to," Francis offered in, leaning forward against the table, "and people die every, damn, day, so I would offer you to reconsider any other thoughts towards Lieutenant Bradshaw while you sit here, okay?" The group fell into silence for a moment, as Annie looked to Francis who offered her a smirk and a wink.
Leave it to the co-pilot to have the command pilot's back; Annie made a mental note in her brain for that one.
"She's one of the best. Seen her fly myself." Brady supplied in the silence that had festered, and the whole table, Annie included looked towards him and he sent his eyes flickering around and offered her a nod. People started looking away and at each other, but she held Brady's gaze and offered a small smile in his direction. He didn't look away.
Brady's gaze was intense to say the least, but there was something in her to where she couldn't look away - offering up his own compliments in her own favor because the British had a bone to pick? She could feel the tops of her cheeks turning crimson and focused back on the beer in her grasp, attempting to forget about Brady's gaze that was evidently still on her.
"Silver Bullets, what a charming name," one of the British on the left said, "and that meansā€¦.?"
"A single, tactile thing that can essentially be a game-changer, changes tides, send waves," Annie supplied quickly, looking up from her beer in record time, " I never got to meet Captain Faulkner but Lieutenant Carlisle told me that Faulkner named the fort herself. Folklore or whatnot."
"Basically means that the more you stop asking stupid questions, the more you won't have to dig yourself into a deeper hole, 'lright?" Major Egan said leaning forward, "Now, how about you all and your British manners give some respect to the lady, okay?"
"Bucky-" DeMarco started, but Major Egan held up a hand.
"Nah, nah, nah, I'm not done yet," Major Egan said and pointed a finger at her, "Lieutenant Bradshaw stood up to the challenge and took it like taking a bull by the horns, what the hell is your prob-"
"Gentlemen," Crosby said intervening, turning to the British pilots, "it's a pleasure really, but Lieutenant Bradshaw has fortified herself as an incredibly pivotal command pilot in the 100th. I mean, if you really need a visual forā€¦such poor eyesightā€¦feel free to come to Thorpe Abbotts any day of the week and she could probably rattle off a tour of Silver Bullets herself and fly you to France and back without breaking a sweat."
"Yeah, yeah, Crosby, thank you, yeah," Bucky said, leaning forward, "if you really thinking taking a few jabs at one of our command pilots I think-"
"I've never seen someone fly with such cool, calm, collected confidence that I have to practically reach over and make sure she's alive," Francis interjected, casting a glance at Annie, her gaze firm, as she looked back to the British, "anyone could die any given time or day. And Captain Faulkner happened to be in the crossfire. But Lieutenant Bradshaw has stepped up to the plate-"
"And hit a fucking grand slam-"
"Sir," Francis said glancing at Major Egan who held up his hands in mock protest, "if you have sort of questioning about Lieutenant Bradshaw and her confidentiality in a B-17, you can happily talk to me day or night - preferably night, but I know you do your runs then. Damn shame." The British sat in stunned silence. "So, please, feel free, but I assure you that Lieutenant Bradshaw is doing what she must and Captain Faulkner is rolling over in her grave knowing you're talking to her like this." More stunned silence. Biddick let out a low whistle as Major Egan leaned back and wrapped his arms around the backs of both her and Francis' chairs.
"Well, gentlemen, you just got bested by one of the best damn co-pilots in all the 100th," Major Egan said with a dry chuckle afterwards, "c'mon, what do you gotta say for yourselves, huh?" The British pilots continued to sit in an uneasy silence.
"Right." Major Cleven said, butting in quietly, as he laced his fingers together and nodded to the group, "Thanks for the drinks tonight, gentlemen." Major Cleven nodded to the RAF pilots, who began to protest as the group started to stand, Major Egan urging Annie to stand to her feet with her beer as she glanced back at the RAF pilots - stunned into silence and the sudden realization of having to pay for 6 to 7 drinks at their disposal.
Annie blindly followed behind Major Egan's bobbing head until the group had started to settle at a new table, away from that of the RAF pilots, whom Annie had taken a glance back to and who were slowly standing, adjusting themselves and muttering amongst one another.
"Last time I hear about their shit with Silver Bullets," Major Egan said from beside her as she settled into the open chair beside him, glancing up at the table and eyeing Francis, who was a few chairs down and nodding to her (which brought Annie a greater comfort than she could imagine), "Birdie used to sock 'em in the mouth with what she'd tell 'em. You could do that, but you're fucking eloquent with it, Bradshaw, so, they might've lost it if we kept at it." Annie glanced up at Major Egan as his sipped his beer again.
"They always got a comment," DeMarco muttered from across the table as he pulled his cigarette off his lip and glanced at Annie, "you get used to it, but it don't mean that it doesn't annoy the shit outta the rest of us. They went after Silver Bullets all the time. And they damn-well knew what it meant to."
"Birdie just never actually told them what it meant, ya know," Biddick offered with a grin and a nod, "she liked to mess with 'em all the time. Get in their heads, shit like that. She got 'em good. But, hey, you did much of the same so cheers to you, Bradshaw." Annie let out a small laugh and scratched behind her head.
"I'll be honest, I've been through enough higher order bullshit in my time and just didn't want to have to hear any sorta sob story from their mouths," Annie admitted honestly, earning a few chuckles from the table, "you get enough of that from back home. Didn't need it here to." A uniformed grouping of nods and agreements and 'Amen to that' echoed about, with people clinking glasses and smiling at her - and for a moment, she felt she won a bit of something deep in her being, for even just a statement like that.
Annie slowly glanced to her left and found Brady there - their few conversations hadn't been anything stellar, but he'd been nothing but kind to her after their first unexpected meeting together on the tarmac. She smiled at him, when she caught him watching her and she watched as his gaze subtly softened and he leaned toward her a bit as she opened her mouth to speak.
"Thanks for saying that. Back there." Annie said with a nod, as he grip on her beer became tighter, "You didn't have to, but I appreciated it." Brady watched her with a grin on his lips and nodded as he leaned towards her ear over the loudness of the group.
"You're a good pilot, Bradshaw," he said quietly and with a genuineness in his voice that it made her heart resound to even the mere compliment that anyone could give anytime of the week, "and you get sick of hearing their comments on what a whole other crew is doing with their flying and all. You handled them well, in my opinion." He leaned back from her and nodded to her with a small smile, his eyes glowing. She watched him and then found her smile again and smiled back.
"Thanks." she said with a nod, and he grinned wider at her, "If you don't mind my asking, they saidā€¦much of the same to Birdie?" Brady nodded quickly, sipping his beer again before looking at her (in that damn good looking uniform of his that would make a rock look stellar she thought), and turning his body towards her in the chair.
"All the time." Brady said, "'Course she had us, we didn't let the Brits get all their jeering out that they wanted, but Birdie held her own, and she usually would get them pretty good. Had them practically squirming in their seats. It's a bit of a treat sometimes, ya know?" Annie smiled at the thought and sent a glance to Francis, who was engaged in a serious looking conversation with Biddick and Kidd.
"And Francis?" Brady smiled at her.
"Francis always gets her digs in, they must be learning to suspect it at this point, but they should've played better when you were sitting there. They know how we all are at this point and you're no different. New ranking officer or not, we don't let shit like that slide." Brady affirmed to her and Annie smiled at him, with a look of thanks in her eyes. Brady watched her quietly for a moment as she seemed to soak in his words, before clearing his throat.
"What's this about some folklore, huh?" Brady asked her, almost innocently and sweetly enough that she looked up at him with a surprised chuckle.
"What?" Brady grinned as he leaned forward.
"Silver Bullets. Back there, you said it meant somethingā€¦folklore or whatnot. What's that about?" Brady asked her, sipping his beer, "The most Birdie let on for us what that it was enough to kill us all or something like that." Annie watched him and broke into a rather loud chuckle and shook her head at him, before leaning against the table and sighing.
"Supposedly it killed werewolves, I don't know." Annie said, looking to his eyes, "You'd have better luck talking to Margie about all that though, she's into all that ghost sorta stuff." Brady let out a laugh at her words and nodded to her.
"I'll have to keep that in mind." Annie grinned.
Something about Lieutenant John Brady made her want to keep talking to him - his quiet confidence and inviting nature made her insides feel warm and almost curious to know more about himself, his story, him. She didn't have a lot of people like that back home - being young and taking care of an army of siblings who had practically been ready to call her 'Mom' instead of 'Sister' was traumatizing enough, not to even mention her lack of schooling or social outing.
Annie slowly sipped her beer again, cringing a bit at the liquid and its warmth and glanced over at Brady again, who was back to sipping his own beer and listening in on a conversation with Major Cleven, Major Egan, Crosby and Bubbles. A small smile hit her cheeks as she watched him laugh, something about him magnetic and touching all at once.
"Hey. Bradshaw." Annie looked over at Major Egan and watched as he leaned beside her, wrapping an arm around her chair and pointing to the beer, "Just. Let me know if you don't end up finishing that up. I could take it off your hands, easy." Annie watched him for a moment.
"Are you really that much of a fan of warm beer, sir?" Egan let out a dry chuckle and shrugged.
"You gotta go where the getting is good, I guess. And what else is around here except empty fucking fields and trees every square mile. A warm beer at this point is a good beer." Annie let out a laugh and slid it towards him.
"All yours." she said, "I don't drink much anyway."
"Ahhh, hey Buck, you got a fellow Saint here," Egan said, leaning over to Major Cleven and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, "she don't do much drinking either. Maybe you two can both go taking shots of water together." Major Cleven let out a chuckle as Annie rolled her eyes the slightest bit and caught Brady's slightly cold stare at Egan - but Annie didn't really care.
From the interactions she'd had with Egan, it was all in good fun - he was all in good fun. He was always looking for fun, a distraction from war. She didn't mind.
She liked the two Majors - Buck and Bucky - they'd been sweet as anything, with a bit more jeering from Egan if she was telling the truth. But they seemed to understand what it meant to have an all-female crew in the group and she appreciated that. It meant that when Birdie had been here, they had looked out for her, too, and with her, they were making sure of it.
"Hey, Bradshaw, you want a Coca-Cola?" Annie looked over at Brady leaning towards her, with a thumb jabbed over his shoulder to the bar, "Since someone took your beer-"
"Sure." Annie said, looking at him, while waving off Egan who was looking ready to start singing a musical nearly, "It's all goodā€¦.I'm not a fan of beer much anyway. Here and there." Brady smiled at her, the corner of his lip curling upwards into a near-wider grin.
"Warm beer just doesn't do the trick, like beer back home, huh?"
"You got that right." Brady chuckled.
"I'll be back-"
"I can get it." Annie said, her hand jutting out to stop him by the arm, but he turned to her and offered her up a wink before heading off.
Annie watched him go before turning slowly back to the table and finding Francis watching her from across the table. She raised a brow. Annie couldn't contain the smirk and shook her head. Francis chuckled. By this point in time, she'd never felt more comfortable in a group of people and in a bomber group.
Maybe flying B-17s had always been her ultimate goal, despite everything in her life up to this point in time. Maybe all her reckless youth and sped-up childhood was for this. To come into this moment in time as a Lieutenant in the Army Air Force, with the title of command pilot for an all-female group. Maybe that's what all along, everything was coming to a head as. Maybe for once in her life, she was earning something instead of giving. Maybe she was doing it all at once.
Maybe.
Life seemed to be full of maybes at this point - and maybe, she was okay with that for now.
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solar-halos Ā· 5 days ago
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it feels like i havenā€™t written odesta in a million years. meanwhile it hasnā€™t even been a full month
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the-sun-and-the-sea Ā· 7 months ago
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Stories From Victorā€™s Village
District Four has nine victors, and sticking them all in a neighborhood together is either the greatest idea the Capitol's ever had or a surefire method of destruction. It depends on the day.
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mirrortouchedsea Ā· 2 months ago
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dark. that was all he had ever known. cold, dark, damp. the boy shivers in the small room, painfully alone, only a book and his magic to keep him company. he tries not to use his magic very often, though. it seemed that the people above knew when he used it and they always always always refused to give him food until he ā€œwoke upā€ next, if they bothered to keep track of that. maybe this time heā€™ll learn their lesson. the boy whispers his spell, cur memini, and creates a small light in his fingers. this is the only spell he can cast safely, too small to be noticeable by the people above. he holds his hand over the fading book on the floor. the boy canā€™t read the letters on the page, but this book has pictures. he flips through it again, careful of the pages that were falling apart, admiring the figure in armor who always comes to rescue the figure in the tower, cut off from the world, just like him. the boy frequently dreams of a figure in armor coming to save him, despite the years he has spent alone. dark and cold and damp.Ā 
the room the boy lives in, the only room he has memories of, is empty besides himself and the book. sometimes the people above would give him water and stale bread to eat, and then there was a cup and a dirty plate, but otherwise it was just the boy and the book. the boy knows why the people above have locked him away, they told him that he was a freak of nature, unnatural, dangerous. but the boy could only make lights in his palm, and that wasnā€™t very dangerous at all. he thinks to himself that the people above are the dangerous ones, locking away a child for something like this, but he canā€™t say that out loud. he doesnā€™t want to die again.Ā 
the boyā€™s stomach grumbles and he curls in on himself, the light in his palm fades out. he longs to see the sun again, to play with the other children he can hear through the ceiling, to be normal. the people above must have decided to punish him again, though, as he doesnā€™t remember the last time he had anything to drink, to eat. his stomach would eat through his skin and he would still wake up the next day. why canā€™t he just die once and for all and be rid of the pain? why is the world keeping him here? why was he even born?
the boy closes his eyes, and falls asleep. maybe this time it wonā€™t hurt so much.Ā 
---Ā 
how long has he been here? the boy doesnā€™t keep track of time. he knows heā€™s died at least a dozen times, but how long does it take for a dozen lifetimes to pass?Ā 
---Ā 
a clattering on the floor wakes the boy up. the people above decided he can eat today. stale bread and water again, but better than nothing to the boy. he crawls closer to it, listening to the door. it closes and the voices disappear. where was the sound of the lock? did they forget?Ā 
the boy scarfs down his food and water before tiptoeing up the stairs. he doesnā€™t hear any voices, but he needs to be careful. he doesnā€™t remember what the above looks like, but he needs to leave. he needs to be free.Ā 
slowly, quietly, he opens the door. itā€™s dark on the other side of it, but still much, much brighter than his room ever was. he closes his eyes but keeps the door open. breathe in, and out. opens his eyes again, blinking the brightness away. pushes the door further open. steps on the hard ground outside the door. heā€™s so close. closes the door quietly. turns around and holds his breath. where was outside? pick a direction and go. his legs hurt. turn the corner, listen for voices. voices are dangerous, get away from the voices. whisper his spell, create a small light. keep moving keep moving keep moving. window ahead. break it? open it? is he strong enough? lift the window up. too weak. voices coming. hurry hurry hurry must get out now. whisper spell again, hand on window. break the glass and jump through it. cuts on feet cuts on legs deal with that later. voices getting louder voices shouting. run run RUN.Ā 
the boy runs away from the building, away from his room. freedom is so close. first get to the trees, thenā€¦ he hasnā€™t thought that far, but he will find a way. gunshots from the house. he runs faster, must get to the trees, must hide, must be free. cur memini, he whispers again, crossing into the forest. his spell can make lights and now break windows, but he needs it to protect him at this moment. run run run until the voices are quiet again. his legs are giving out, but he needs to run. he canā€™t die now or theyā€™ll find him. keep running. bare feet on sticks and stones and sharp things, everything hurts but he canā€™t stop. he keeps running until the sun comes up. his heart beats out of his chest.Ā 
---Ā 
when he wakes up he doesnā€™t know how much time has passed. his heart beats fast and he sits up. did they find him? he looks around. trees, rocks, a gurgling stream. heā€™s free. heā€™s free. he sighs and lays back down. how far did he run? he needs to go further. away from other people, away from anyone who might lock him up again. he sits up again and forces himself to stand and walk towards the sound of the stream. he can start there. water is important, and he might be able to get food from the little stream too.Ā 
his first drink of the stream water is icy cold, quenching his lifelong thirst in just a few swallows. he washes his face with it, removing years of sweat and grime. he wants to sit by the stream forever if only he could, but the people will find him eventually if he doesnā€™t keep moving. but he allows himself a few minutes to bathe in the water, savoring the feeling of water on his skin. his stomach still growls, wanting something more filling than the freezing water of the stream, but that would have to wait. he needs to get his bearings.Ā 
the light of the outside world is almost blinding, he realizes. the sun and the snow made it almost impossible to see anything. he should get up above the trees. can he even do that? cur memini, he says, trying to get his voice to be louder than a whisper. his feet float a few inches above the ground. he closes his eyes and says his spell again with more conviction. Cur Memini. he feels himself shooting into the air before he opens his eyes. he can see the forest stretch out for miles around him. trees covered in snow in every direction. if the old house is behind him, he should fly straight ahead, towards the forests on the mountains. tentatively, he leans forward and focuses his magic on keeping himself afloat.Ā 
it doesnā€™t take much to exhaust what little magic he has, but heā€™s put more distance between himself and the old house and the people above now. he should be safe to rest, truly rest. but first he should find something to eat. is there anything to eat out here? something in his head tells him to look a little closer to the ground. to his left. thereā€™s a bush full of berries. heā€™s never had anything but stale bread, and doesnā€™t know what to expect as he crushes one with his teeth.Ā 
the sensation overtakes him for a brief moment. the berry is sweet, yet tart, and delicious. itā€™s the best thing heā€™s ever eaten and he thanks the little voice in his head for the information as he picks several more berries from the bush. the juice runs down his chin and makes him sticky, but it feels good. he feels truly alive for the first time.Ā 
once heā€™s finished picking the bush clean of its fruits, he needs to find a place to rest, to stay warm. heā€™s shivering in the intense cold of the north, but itā€™s nothing he isnā€™t used to. the room was never very warm after all. he listens to the little voices calling out to him, guiding him towards a small cave, instructing him on how to make a small fire to warm himself up. a small rabbit brushes against his leg and he swears one of the voices is coming from it. and with the fire going, he thanks the rabbit before it hops away back into the snow. he would be roasting that same rabbit over the fire a few months later.Ā 
the boy canā€™t stay in the cave forever though. as days turn to weeks turn to months, he worries that the people above are getting closer to him. theyā€™ll put him back in that cold, dark, damp room again. he needs to keep moving. he has been practicing his magic, casting stronger spells, and he needs to be ready to fly. it's been long enough. cur memini he says holding his hand out. a rough stick with twigs tied to the end flies into his hand. itā€™s a poor excuse for what he understands is a broom, but it will work. he climbs onto it and focuses. cur memini cur memini cur memini. he lifts off the ground and watches as the branches of the trees get shorter and eventually he passes above the treetops.Ā 
he takes a moment to gather his bearings. he no longer remembers the direction the house was in, but going up is his best bet of staying away from the people above. he laughs, realizing that he is the one above them now. after a moment, he flies into the mountains. the small voices change into bigger, unfamiliar ones as he gets further into the mountain range. they tell him to hide, to stay away. he doesnā€™t listen. they cannot be more dangerous than the humans he is running from.Ā 
the boy lands, still exhausted from using so much magic, but he was able to travel further this time. that has to count for something, surely. he gathers some sticks and looks for another cave to make his home in. the caves remind him too much of the room he left, so he chooses to stay close to the entrance, close to the light that reminds him he is free. the fire keeps the animals away, but the voices are curious about the new presence in their woods. they make him curious too. he should stay in the cave tonight though and regain his energy. maybe he can get some small game to fill his stomach before settling in for the night. he listens for a rabbitā€™s voice, or maybe a squirrel, anything that would be small enough to kill with his hands.Ā 
at last, a small foxā€™s voice is heard nearby. he wonders if fox will taste different from the other game heā€™s eaten thus far. he lifts a hand-sized rock and slinks out of the cave towards the voice. it takes a few minutes to find the source, but the fox is curled under a tree, shivering, hungry, just like him. the boy hesitates before bludgeoning it and slinging the corpse over his shoulders. there are more foxes. he is much more important.Ā 
the fox is only the first animal he hunts in those mountainous woods. he spends several years in that forest and eventually humans settle up there as well. the boy, or rather, the man now, has made a name for himself amongst the human populations of the north. he is no longer afraid of humans capturing him and locking him up. they are still terrified of him, but now he is in control of that terror. the hunters that left his territory alive whispered tales of the great wizard owen who inhabited the mountains and terrorized anyone who had the bad luck of running into him.Ā 
all of this is perfectly fine with owen. eventually his reputation will grow beyond himself, encapsulating atrocities that were impossible for even someone as strong as oz to commit, but that would be a problem for future owen. for now, he is still young and living in his cave on the outskirts of a small village and scaring hunters who stray too far from their boundaries. the wolves donā€™t like these visitors either and gladly listen to owenā€™s lamentations. it keeps his hands clean of the bloodshed if he isnā€™t casting the spell himself. the wolves donā€™t care for owen either, but they respect him. and that is enough for owen.Ā 
the first of the unwanted visitors was a young man, someone who wanted to provide for his family. he pleaded with owen and the wolves to let him go and he wouldnā€™t cause any problems. those pleas fell on deaf ears though as owen looked the man in the eyes. wonā€™t your family be disappointed, he asked almost innocently, you donā€™t have anything to show for your efforts. the man stammered a response, theyā€™d rather i come back alive with nothing than die trying to find food. is that so, owen reached out for the manā€™s chin, the distance between their faces was almost nothing. y-yes, sir, please just let me go and i wonā€™t bother you anymore. owen grinned. oh iā€™m sure you wonā€™t be causing us any trouble again. the wolves stalked out of the woods, drooling at the prospect of tearing a piece of that man for themselves. owen snapped his fingers, and they came running forward, only to stop mere inches from the now trembling man. there was a suspicious yellow stain in the snow beneath him. p-p-please sir, anything you ask, itā€™s yours! then make sure you tell the rest of your little village that this forest belongs to the great wizard owen. the man ran off, leaving behind a hunting rifle and a ratty sack. the rifle would be of use, but the sack became tinder for his fires.Ā 
despite the warning from that first man, hunters continued to enter into owenā€™s territory. and one after the other, they ran off screaming with their tails between their legs. this should have annoyed owen, that people would ignore all of the warnings and stories that had started popping up about him, but it doesnā€™t. their fear feeds into his magic power, only making him stronger, and that is all fine with owen. he is no longer a weak child locked in the damp, dark basement, and he never will be again.Ā 
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uberthemeh Ā· 5 months ago
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Made a Branching Story thing for my OC, Annie!
Give it a read/play and lmk what yall thinkkkk
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bouncingkadachi Ā· 1 month ago
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Summary: The discovery of the Seikret is exciting: its ability to navigate harsh terrain is unmatched, while its power and endurance allowed it to carry its riders far afield and keep them supplied the entire time. It was, eerily, not unlike a Riderā€™s Monstie. So when Liliaā€™s corner of the Scrivenerā€™s Lodge is offered the rare opportunity to send out a Rider as part of the Wilds Research Expedition in an attempt to uncover a lost history of Rider influence in a land far away, of course she has to jump on it.
Chapter(s): 1/???
Word Count: 2,510
Note(s): The Stories meets Wilds mashup featuring Bug Buddies
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wrishwrosh Ā· 3 months ago
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was enjoying some recreational dumb shit i hate reading time last night and came across a litmag profile of annie proulx, infamous recluse, where the author tried and kinda failed to interview her and the thesis was ā€œannie proulx is a cold mean bitch, which is so complicated and unmodern of her, isnt being a mean reclusive old bitch kind of uhhh homophobic actually?ā€ and like a) shes an 89 year old who lives in the woods and writes books about cold mean reclusive bitches. what did u expect and b) GOOD FOR HER. i dont need authors to be instagram pr trained and in fact do not want this from them. all authors should be 89 year old recluses and i myself dream of being an 89 year old recluse one day
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whillywisp Ā· 11 months ago
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Thinking a LOT about childhood friends Finnick and Reader who've been friends since they lost their fathers to the same squid fishing expedition and long, long life story about them and they end up in a poly marriage with Annie. I'm not articulating my thoughts well but the story would be this in a nutshell.
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the-rewritten-railway-au Ā· 1 year ago
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One or the Other
April 1925
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Word Count: +9,110
An experimental rebuild of his class has arrived on the Island of Sodor, bought by the North Western Railway. He wonders if he'll fit in just fine with the other engines as problems begin to rise.
~
The sun was setting within the horizon, tucked behind the ocean. All of the engines at Barrow-in-Furness had returned to their sheds, except for two.
While both engines were classified as Lancashire and Yorkshire Class 28s, the only two of their class with Hughes Twin Plug superheaters and Belpaire fireboxes, they were quite different. One of them was an original Class 28, no modifications on them were found. The other was a rebuild, an experimental rebuild specifically. After a year of trial, he was deemed as a failed experiment.
Today was one of his last days before heading to the Island of Sodor, to the railway he was sold to.
"You're gonna love it when you get to Sodor!" chimed the smaller engine, as she noted her younger brother's mood. "It's lovely, I promise you."
The rebuilt engine let out a high-pitched wheesh. He hummed. "But you said that the engines there were straight-up sinister," he remarked.
His sister chuckled. "I meant the other engines on trial. Though two of the five were quite mean, I would ignore them if I were you, little brother."
"I'm much bigger than you!" he huffed. "...but, what about the others?"
"Oh, they're quite pleasant," she noted. "Though one of them might not be there anymore." She looked down. "There was an engine who sat in one of the sheds all the time. He barely went out."
"So he could've beenā€¦" James gulped a heavy cloud of steam, which slowly backed up his pipes. "Scrapped?" He wheezed out.
"Mhm," hummed his sister. "Don't let it intimidate you. It's just how it goes."
He stayed quiet.
His sister sighed. "I'm sure you'll do great, and you'll fit in quite well."
"...And what about you?" he asked as he looked at his sister.
His sister looked down. "Oh, I'll still be here." She whistled before chuffing away. "Who knows. We might see each other here every now and then."
"Here? As in Barrow-in-Furness?"
"Mhm," she stopped. "There are a few engines who come over from Sodor to here. You might be one of them soon." With that, she left.
The younger engine smiled warmly as the engine, the only one he could truly consider to be family, left. He looked in the distance and could barely see it but it was there.
The Vicarstown Drawbridge was raised up as if reaching for the limitless sky. Once it was let down in the morning, he would leave, and when he crossed over, he would possibly never come back.
ā€¦
It was shortly after lunch as four engines were being fired up after a good hour break and a quick announcement from Sir Bertram Topham Hatt II, the director of the North Western Railway.
A grand blue tender engine named Gordon huffed. "Edward, you will give this railway a bad name, just by rolling up there."
Henry, a grand green tender engine right next to him, asked, "They could be reckless. It's better if one of us goes instead."
An emerald-green tender engine, Emily, gave them a quick glare before shifting her attention to Edward. "What do you think they'll be doing when they arrive?" she asked, in hopes of deviating from the negativity.
Edward, a blue medium-sized tender engine, looked at the two largest tender engines and smiled. He softly chuckled. "Ye're forgettin wha mentorit the both of ye," he said, then glanced at the emerald-green tender engine. "Emily, I'm sure it'll be fine. I've been seein more goods trains than usual sae thon's most likely what they'll be doin."
Emily hummed. "That's true."
Gordon huffed and Henry grunted.
"Noo, noo," said Edward. "Please be nice tae the newcomer. It would be rude of us not to."
Emily whistled but the other two said nothing.
Edward rolled his eyes. "Let's get tae work, now. I'll see ye around!" he exclaimed as he chuffed away, continuing to work in Tidmouth Yards.
ā€¦
Within a few days, Sir Topham Hatt II had a workman from Tidmouth pass a message to Edward's crew, Charlie Sands and Sidney Heaver.
"The new engine has arrived," he said. "He's at Crovan's Gate Works."
Without any haste, Edward had his tender refilled of coal and water before getting onto the Main Line and heading towards Crovan's Gate. He hummed along the way as he huffed and chuffed down the line.
ā€¦
The rebuilt engine nervously rolled to a stop right next to what appeared to be a factory or repair shop.
"Is this it?" he asked his driver hastily as he observed the large brick building. The massive brick building had tall windows that were quite dirty, making it difficult for the engine to look through. He was curious as to what was going on inside, huffing in frustration.
"This is the place," replied his driver, Fred Quill, as his fireman, George Turner, patted at the curious engine. Just a few minutes ago, the engine had been fuming and crying after a not-so-pleasant farewell. It's as if the events that had taken place the day before had never happened.
Just then, Sir Topham Hatt II approached him, followed by two men dressed in blue coats and blue slacks. He dressed appropriately as any other railway owner would, in a full tuxedo with a yellow vest.
The newcomer was a medium-sized tender engine of two leading wheels and six 5'6" driving wheels. His livery was matte black, except for his buffer beams. On his cab was his number, 12556, painted in yellow, the same yellow used for the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway logo on his tender. Unlike other engines, he had a three-chime brass whistle sitting on top of his domed boiler. Across his face, at eye level, was a black stripe, with the number 12556 in white.
The black medium-sized tender engine looked at the man with his heterochromatic eyes of rich brown and lush green.
"Hello there! You must be James!" Sir Topham Hatt II exclaimed with excitement.
The engine jolted, and quickly looked away from the building. His heterochromatic eyes landed sight on the stout gentleman. He was confused. "Who?"
The Fat Director nodded at him. "You, James," he replied.
"P-pardon?" he asked, confused and nervous. He avoided eye contact. "I-I think you have the wrong engine, sir. I don't have a name. My number is twelve-thousand-five hundred fifty-six or twelve-five fifty-six, sir."
"Then you are James," the director said. "I gave you that name. Do you like it?"
James was shocked. Flabbergasted, he looked down shyly. Eventually, he replied. "I do, sir. Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome. Where are my manners? Welcome to the North Western Railway. I am Sir Bertram Topham Hatt the Second, the director of this railway. I expect you to become of good use," said Sir Topham Hatt II.
"Of course, sir!"
"Marvelous!" Sir Topham Hatt II said before looking around. Suddenly, he exclaimed, "There you are!"
James looked in the direction that the director was looking in.
Up ahead, a cerulean blue tender engine rolled in and came to a stop on the track to his left. The other engine was medium-sized, like he was, though a bit smaller, and had four leading wheels and four driving wheels.
Sir Topham Hatt II glanced at the blue medium-sized tender engine, smiling at the warm presence the locomotive brought with him.
Edward smiled at the new engine.
The director looked at James. "You will be working with one of the railway's most hardworking engines." He looked back at Edward with pride before gesturing from him to James.
The blue engine gave a quick hum before rolling closer to James. "Hello thare. Ma name is Edward," he piped cheerfully, his Scottish accent being quite thick. "What's yers?"
"James," the black engine replied quickly. He was still nervous.
Edward smiled. With a quick fweep, fweep!, he exclaimed, "Welcome tae Sodor, James!"
"Edward will be your mentor, James," said the Fat Director, gesturing James to Edward. "You will be working with him at the shunting yards in Tidmouth. Edward will guide you there." He turned to the blue medium-sized tender engine. "Edward, please make sure James is in line with the others. Keep an eye on him."
"Aye, sir!" replied Edward.
James followed. "Yes, sir!"
"Alright then. On you go! I will be checking on your progress by the end of this week, James."
Once Edward was turned around, the engines left Crovan's Gate and headed for Tidmouth Yards.
ā€¦
"Are you Scottish?" James asked meekly. They hadn't gone far away from Crovan's Gate when the silence became loud and uncomfortable.
Edward hummed.
James perked up. "If n-not, I'm sorry!" he quickly exclaimed. "It's just your-" His stuttering began to crack into his voice.
"Accent?" Edward said, interrupting the nervous engine. He chuckled. "I wis built in Scotland."
"And what railway do you come from?"
"I canae remember," Edward replied.
"Oh."
It stayed silent again.
"Ur ye an LMS original engine?" Edward asked.
"No. I'm a Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway engine."
Edward slowed down. "Lancashire and Yorkshire?"
"Yes?" James eyed the engine suspiciously.
"We had two engines come over from thon railway back in nineteen-twenty-ane," Edward replied. He hummed. "I was shed mates wit ane but the other ane wis allocatit at yon old Vicarstown Sheds wit the other ladies." He shook his frame. "One wis an L&YR Class Nine and the other wis an L&YR Class Twenty-Eight."
"I know that Class Twenty-Eight engine!" James exclaimed.
His loud voice startled Edward. "Eh?"
"That was my sister, fifty-five!"
Edward stared at James.
"W-What?" James became nervous all over again.
"Och, nawthin, nawthin!" Edward quickly reassured him. "Ye jist donnae look like yer sisterā€¦" He looked away, wincing at his own words.
James huffed. "I'm an experimental engine that was once a Class 28," he muttered bitterly.
"Och, och!" Edward braked harshly. "I'm sae sorry! I should'nae-"
James halted and backed down, lining up with Edward. "It's fine," huffed James. "How much longer to Tidmouth?"
"A while," replied Edward.
"Where is Tidmouth?"
"Oan the other side o the island!"
"What?" James exclaimed.
ā€¦.
Tidmouth was very far away.
By the time the two engines pulled into Tidmouth Yard, which sat next to Tidmouth Station, dwindling towards the west, James was low on water and coal. Said engine could barely see it but from a distance, he saw what appeared to be the bay of the island. Not too far away and closer to him was a turntable.
"Here we are! Welcome tae Tidmouth," Edward exclaimed as he rolled into the shunting yard. James followed suit. "This is where we'll be workin for now," said the blue medium-sized tender engine.
James looked around the small yard. "And where are the goods trains?" he asked, confused.
"Och," Edward's lips strained, forming a thin line. "Wellā€¦ aboot thon." He cleared his pipes. "The Fat Director wants ye tae do shuntin."
"Shunting?" The black medium-sized engine tensed. "But I'm a goods engine," said James.
"It's what he directed."
"But why? Do you not have any shunters?"
"We do."
"But where are they?"
"You're talking with the only one right now."
James' heterochromatic eyes slowly glanced over at Edward, meeting the other engine's brass eyes. The worry within boiled. "You're a shunter?"
The baritone of his voice threw Edward off, startling him. "Aye," he replied, tense.
"But you're a tender engine!"
"I ken."
"Tender engines-"
"Ur'nae meant tae shunt," interrupted the blue medium-sized tender engine. "But it's the Fat Director's orders. Nawthin I can dae aboot it."
"And you're the only one."
"Ye're jist goin tae keep askin questions, ur'nae ye?"
James backed away.
Edward took notice, alarmed. "It's no a bad thing!" He glanced at the yard, concerned. "But we have work tae dae."
"And it's shunting?"
"Aye! Noo, let's git tae it!"
ā€¦
Throughout the afternoon, both engines had some small chats. Edward spoke what little he could remember of the early days of the railway, adding his experiences with the other engines.
Despite the good things he was hearing, James was still worried.
"Do you think they'll like me?" James asked.
Edward hummed as he shunted some Troublesome Trucks to the end of a track. "They will," he replied rather bluntly.
"Oh." James wasn't convinced.
The blue medium-sized tender engine sighed with a warm smile. "Hey, listen. If they donnae like ye right away, give thaim time," he said as he backed away from the trucks.
Suddenly, a low baritone-pitched whistle was heard from a distance. The two had heard it multiple times throughout the day but this time, it got closer to them.
"Is that one of them?" James asked.
"Aye!" Edward replied. He backed up next to James in time to see a grand blue tender engine thunder into the shunting yard with empty coaches. "Come along, come along!" he piped to James, who followed suit.
The blue grand tender engine halted and hummed, observing the two engines approaching him. He focused on the new one.
"Are you the new engine?" The great blue engine asked.
"Yes, uh-" he swallowed a cloud of steam. "I'm James," James replied with a strained smile. He felt small, smaller than Edward.
Edward inched forward. "Why don' ye introduce yerself?" he suggested to the grand blue tender engine.
"Well then, hello. I'm Gordon, and I pull the Wild Nor' Wester," Gordon said bluntly.
"O' the afternoon!" added Edward.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Gordon," James responded, feeling tense.
"It was a pleasure as well." Once the grand blue tender engine was uncoupled from the coaches, he left.
"I'll get thaim, ye keep workin oan the regular freight cars," Edward said as he moved to the track where the coaches were.
James looked at the coaches. "Are those the Wild Nor' Wester coaches?"
"They are," Edward responded as he gently shunted them in place. "It's our passenger express service."
"Does someone else pull it? You said something about the afternoon."
"Aye. She's in charge o the Mornin runs."
James hummed curiously. "Do you get to pull it?"
"Mm, naw. No-"
Another whistle was heard. Though this time, it was a higher pitch than Gordon's. "Hello, Edward!" A voice hollered out.
"Och, thon's Henry!" Edward exclaimed. He looked at James. "This way, this way!" He chuffed backward. James followed.
"You must be the new engine. My name's Henry, what's yours?" a grand green tender engine asked as he rolled to a stop in the yard.
"I'm James," the black medium-sized tender engine replied. He liked Henry already. He's nice, he thought.
"It's nice to meet you. I need to get going. I'll see you around," said Henry before he whistled and left the yard.
James hummed. He asked Edward, "Is he the other engine who pulls the Express?"
"Naw, he pulls the regular passenger coaches an goods trains. Gordon pulls goods trains as well, thouch not often," Edward replied.
"Then who's the other engine?"
"Thon would be-"
"Edward!" An English-accented voice hollered.
"Emily, hello thare!" replied Edward.
"Did Gordon do the final Express run of the morning?" Emily quickly asked. She became excited when she noticed the unfamiliar engine next to Edward.
"He did. He juist left for his break."
"Good, good," Emily said in relief. "Now, who is this?" The emerald green tender engine inched closer to the two medium-sized tender engines.
"Gae on," Edward whispered to James. He backed up. "Introduce yerself."
"Hello, I'm James," said James. "It's Emily, right?"
"It is. Welcome to the railway, lad!" Emily replied. "Have you met the coffee pot engine, yet?"
"Coffee pot engine? The ones with the vertical boilers?" James asked, surprised and curious.
"Thae are the anes," Edward replied. "Thare's only ane left on the railway. He runs the Ffarquhar Branch Line, ane o the only operatin branch lines left. Still frequentit as it wis back then."
James hummed. "Do you guys work on the branch line?"
"Nope," replied Emily. "We work on the Main Line, which runs from here to Barrow-in-Furness."
"Oh. Will I be working on the Main Line?"
"Of course. In fact, you are right now." Emily paused when she noticed the lettering on Jamesā€™ cab. "Welcome from the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway! Did you come from a railway before then?ā€
"Yes. The Lancashire and Yorkshire," replied James.
"Lancashire and Yorkshire, huh? Think we had two engines on trial from there, not too long agoā€¦" Emily looked at Edward. "Have the other two met him?"
"They have. Shortly before ye came, thon is," replied Edward.
"Good. I must get going. Sir Topham Hatt wants me to pull the passenger train while Henry's gone. I'll see you two later!"
"Alricht, Emily," said Edward as Emily pulled away from the shunting yards. He looked at James. "Wid ye like tae shunt the passenger coaches?"
"Uh, sure," replied the black medium-sized tender engine worriedly. "Which ones are they?"
"The red coaches on the second tae last track."
James spotted the red coaches and went to work.
When he shunted the red passenger coaches into the station, he heard a little girl.
"Mummy, look! A new engine!" she exclaimed, pointing at James.
Her mother hummed. "It's like all the other engines," she commented with a smile.
James began to smile.Ā 
Finally, someone else recognizes that I am just like the others. Just as great. Just as useful-
"I don't see what's so different about it from the rest," the mother said, her smile disappearing. "Other than the eyes," she added, dropping her voice level. She looked down at her daughter and motioned at the passenger coaches. "Come on. Let's get on the train, dear."
The little girl simply followed her mother as James' heterochromatic eyes followed the pair. His eyebrows furrowed at the comment.
Despite the fire still going in his firebox and his water supply full, his boiler felt empty and cold.
So much for wanting to be like everyone elseā€¦ he thought as he quietly puffed away.
ā€¦
It was evening when James and Edward finished with work. The two engines headed to Knapford Sheds, which were not too far. The other engines were already waiting for them, including the coffee pot engine.
On the way back, the comment from the mother had nagged at James, who tried to push it away.
"Glynn, guid evenin!" greeted Edward as he backed into the berth, along with James next to him in the no-longer empty spot.
"Good evening to you too, Edward," replied Glynn when he noticed the unfamiliar engine right next to him. "Hello there. You must be the new one around here, chap," he said.
James was no longer thinking about what happened earlier. He was staring at the coffee pot engine in awe. He'd heard about them but had never seen one before.Ā 
Glynn was tiny in length but was nearly the same height as Edward. His boiler pointed upwards and his livery was red, covered in a few scratches and dents.
"Oh, hello!" James greeted back, with a sudden rush of eagerness and curiosity. "I am. I'm James!"
Glynn chuckled at the reaction of the black medium-sized tender engine. He was used to it. His design was one-of-a-kind. "Hello, James. Welcome to the North Western Railway."
"Thank you," replied the black medium-sized tender engine.
"You're very welcome. I'm hearing you're around in the shunting yards for now."
"I amā€¦ Glynn, was it?"
"It is, lad. With Edward guiding you, you'll be fine on this railway."
"I hope soā€¦"
"Is something on your-?"
"Can you please keep it down?" muttered Gordon from the other end of the shed. Henry, who was right next to him, was fast asleep. "Some of us are trying to get some rest. It's getting late."
Edward yawned. He had stayed quiet for the majority of the time, occasionally speaking to Emily, who tried to stay awake but had fallen asleep rather quickly. "He has a point," said Edward, with another yawn. "Guid nightā€¦"
Glynn looked at James. "We can chat tomorrow. Good night, James. Have a good rest."
"Good night, Glynn," replied James.
Soon, all the engines were fast asleep, with James looking forward to the following week.
ā€¦
A loud shrill rang throughout the sheds that morning.
The engines panicked, waking up with a startle. Henry suddenly moved backward, his fire having barely started. He bashed into the buffers at the end of the track.
"Goodness me, who was that?" he asked with sudden fear.
Someone nervously chuckled. All of the engines looked at James, who was about to leave.
"T-that was meā€¦" replied James. "Was it that loud?"
"Well-" began Edward.
"Yes, it was," Gordon huffed. "With that kind of whistle, you'd certainly scare off the passengers."
"Gordon!"
The grand blue tender engine ignored Edward as he whistled and chuffed away.
"Dinnae-"
"Don't mind him, I know," James said, interrupting Edward. He brought his voice down to a whisper. "My sister told me not to."
"Did you say something?" Emily asked.
"N-no, I didn't say anything," James replied. "I'm on my way to the yards."
"Is yer whistle a three-chime whistle, by any chance?" asked Edward.
"Oh, it is," replied James. "It was given to me during my rebuild, 'as a gift' they said. I'm sorry for scaring you all like that."
"Donnae worry aboot it, James. Thouch it wid've been nice tae ken beforehandā€¦" Edward reassured with a chuckle.
"Right, right." James chuckled nervously as he headed out of the sheds.
ā€¦
The next few days went by with ease, or they did so initially.
James had been making great progress. However, by halfway through the week, it was becoming quite sloppy, to say the least.
"Dinnae let them get the best of ye, James. They want engines up tae high doh," said Edward, reminding the black medium-sized tender engine.
James groaned. "'Up the high dough?""
"Flustered, upsetā€¦ rile up an engine!"
He huffed. "That's troublesome."
The Troublesome Trucks continued to laugh. "No good engine, no good engine!" they chanted with boisterous laughter.
Edward shot a glare at the trucks. "Thon's why they're callit Troublesome Trucks," he said, looking back at James. "Ye'll neit tae learn hou tae deal with thaim properly. Sir Topham Hatt is hopin tae have ye pull yer first goods train by the end of the week."
"Why not now? I was a goods engine on my old railway," James asked as he finally managed to shunt the trucks in place.
"Most of our goods trains have Troublesome Trucks, thon's why not noo," replied Edward. "Sir Topham Hatt doesnae want tae risk ye gettin intae an accident for bein inexperiencit."
"Oh, right," replied James.
Edward hummed. "Och! Before I forget, Glynn is stoppin by for his break. He wantit ye tae shunt his coaches for him."
"Really, why?"
"I dinnae ken," said Edward. "He simply askit me tae tell ye."
"Alrightā€¦" said James. "Edward, I'm like the other engines, right?"
"Well, naw. We're all different from ane another-"
"I meant as in- Nevermind," huffed James, returning to shunting the Troublesome Trucks and leaving a confused Edward behind.
"Whit dae ye mean by 'as in?'" asked Edward as he followed the black medium-sized tender engine. "James?"
"It sounds silly but am I an engine? Like a real engine?"
"Of course, ye are," he replied, confused.
"Even if I'm a failed experiment?"
Edward was flabbergasted. "A failed-? Aye, e'en sae, James."
"That's good to know."
"Why are ye askin this? Is awthing alricht?"
James hummed. "...Do passengers often say really rude things?"
Edward's eyes widened. He sighed. "It's best tae ignore thaim." He began to chuff away, leaving the black medium-sized tender engine to ponder. "Nawthin we can dae aboot it."
ā€¦
Around the early afternoon, Glynn arrived at Tidmouth Station. After dropping off his passengers, he headed towards the shunting yard. James was waiting for him, just having arranged a goods train for Henry to take.
"Hello, Glynn," he said as Glynn approached him.
"Hello, James," said Glynn. "I want you to meet my coaches."
"Hello there!" piped up the first coach. "I'm Annie, and she's Clarabel," Annie said, smiling as she glanced back at Clarabel, the passenger brake coach.
"It's nice to meet you, James!" exclaimed Clarabel, as she and Annie were uncoupled from Glynn.
"Hello, Annie. Hello, Clarabel," greeted James to the auburn passenger coaches as he was coupled up to them from the back.
Glynn chuffed away. "I'll be near the water tank. Thank you, James!"
"You're welcome, Glynn!" James replied as he reversed. He thought about where to put the auburn coaches for the time being.
"We usually go in that shed over there," said Clarabel, noticing the pondering engine. She glanced to the left. "Where the red passenger coaches are."
James hummed as he reversed further and switched tracks to reach what looked like a carriage shed. It was at the edge of the shunting yard. As gently as he could, James shunted them in place.
"James, have you ever pulled coaches before?" Annie asked suddenly as a workman uncoupled her from James.
James sighed. "No, I haven't," he replied as he backed away.
"Would you like to one day?" asked Annie.
The black medium-sized tender engine stopped in his tracks. "Sorry?"
"Would you like to pull coaches one day?"
James was hesitant. "I would, but I'm a goods engine. I'm not meant to be pulling passenger coaches."
"Well-"
"You better get going, James. Glynn does want to spend some time with you," said Clarabel hastily, interrupting Annie.
"Oh right! See you in a bit!" exclaimed James as he chuffed away from the shed. He left to join Glynn.
"Goodbye, James!" said Clarabel frantically. Her franticness went unnoticed by James.
But not by Annie. "Clarabel, what was that for?" asked Annie.
The equivalent of Clarabel's eyebrow bone furrowed. "We can't be telling a newcomer such things, Annie. Besides, we don't know for sure. It'sā€¦ just a possibility."
ā€¦
"...Henry refused to come out of the tunnel. An engine on trial almost got him out but he was being stubborn."
"Would this engine happen to be an L&YR Class 28?"
"Pretty sure it was. Do you know this engine?"
"She's my sister. Number two-forty-three?"
Glynn hummed. "Oh, I remember her. I didn't see her much, though."
"Then how did you know about that?"
"The other three told me about it. They'd seen how hard she tried, but Henry's strong. He wouldn't budge."
"Not one bit?" asked James, amused.
Glynn chuckled lightly. "Not one bit. So the board, including the old Fat Director, ordered for the tunnel to be walled up. He was let out eventually, but that was only because Gordon burst his safety valve and none of the other engines were available to cover for him."
"Wow," said James with a stale tone, though amused. "Even if Gordon hadn't burst his safety valve, Henry would have still been let out, right?"
Glynn stayed silent.
"Right?" Fear began to creep into his boiler.
"No," Glynn replied bluntly. "I don't think so. The others do, but I don't."
"O-ohā€¦"
"It's been a few years since that happened."
"So it won't happen again?"
"No, I doubt it would," said Glynn, teeth clenched.
"Alright. So what happened after?"
"Everything went back to how it was after Gordon was fixed up, just like it is now."
"Nothing changed?"
"Nothing changed," Glynn replied. He heard footsteps. The red coffee pot engine looked in the direction of the sound and saw a group of men walking toward them. "That's my crew. My break's over. Don't worry about Annie and Clarabel, I'll get them myself."
"Oh, alright then. I should get back to work. Goodbye, Glynn!"
"Goodbye, James!" said Glynn as the black medium-sized tender engine left to return to his work in the yard.
ā€¦
"James? James!"
"Hm? Who's there?" asked the black medium-sized tender engine as he backed away from shunting a few cars into the siding. He saw the engine, who had been calling out for him. "Oh, hi, Gordon," said James.
"For how much longer are you going to work in the yard?" Gordon bluntly asked with no greeting.
"By the end of the week, I think," replied James, thrown off by the question. "Why?"
"Just curious," he replied. Gordon brought his voice down to a whisper. "You could be a replacement."
James froze. "R-Replacement? Who?"
"Edward."
"E-Edward?" James looked around frantically to find the engine. He managed to spot him on the other side of the yard. "What's wrong with him?ā€ he whispered. ā€œHe seems to be just fine."
"Yes, but that's because he stays in the yard. Have you not noticed how he never leaves the yard?"
The question made James think. "He left once for a goods train toā€¦ somewhere, but I've only been here for a few days-"
"Edward's old," Gordon said bluntly. "He's been a shy steamer from the day he was built."
"I've never seen him have that issueā€¦" replied James, looking down as he thought back to the past week.
ā€œHe never wheeshes because he just cannot steam enough to do that.ā€
"But Edward's a reliable engine. Sir Topham Hatt said so himself," replied James. "Besides, I was brought here to pull goods trains. I justā€¦ need to be ready."
"Sure," Gordon huffed as he rolled out of the yards, leaving a worried James behind, who recalled something his sister had said.
ā€¦
"Edward, when were you built?" James asked the blue medium-sized tender engine the following morning.
Edward hummed. "I canae rememberā€¦ but I might be a few decades old," he replied. Edward noticed James' tense stance. "Is somethin botherin ye, James?"
"No, no. Noā€¦ Actually, yes." He looked straight into Edward's eyes. "Were you the engine who stayed in the shed during the loans? The one who never left?
Edward was startled, but he still answered. "Aye," he replied, looking down. "But I did leave a few times."
"How many?"
"Mmm, five times?"
"A year?"
"The entire time."
James frowned. "And since when have you been here in the yards?"
"Since nineteen-twenty-three, when the Amalgamation happened. But I dinnae mind it. As lonā€™ as I'm noā€™ left in the shed all the time, I'm quite pleasit wit it," replied Edward with a pleasing smile.
However, Edward's words shook through James' boiler, and the smile of the blue medium-sized tender engine bothered James.
James watched as Edward went on with his work. "And what about the Troublesome Trucks?" he asked. He had become more annoyed with them since he arrived, growing tired of their mockery.
"Whit aboot thaim?"
"How can you handle this job? Dealing with those Troublesome Trucks?"
"Well, ane, I enjoy it. Anā€™ two, it takes time."
"You enjoy it?"
"Aye, anā€™ thare's nawthin-"
"Yes, there is!" James yelled.
Edward was startled but his eyebrows furrowed.
"How do you not want to lose it with those trucks?" He huffed. "I'm ready to shunt one off the rails."
Edward hummed. "I am patient witā€™ thaim."
"Don't you wish you could do something else?"
"Well, it wis either this or tae be lockit up in the sheds," replied Edward sternly. "Anā€™ I wid rather noā€™ be sittin in the sheds, deterioratinā€™ over time." The blue medium-sized tender engine moved away, continuing his work.
James had an idea.
"How about we travel along the mainline?"
Edward stopped. "Pardon?"
"Travel along the mainline. You said you've been here for quite a while. That means you barely go on the Main Line, right?"
"Well, aye. But like I said, I like workinā€™ in the yard. It's not much but it's nice," replied Edward, getting a bit worried.
"Then let's go on the Main Line!" James exclaimed. "We can chuff around for a bit!"
"Ye're off yer smokebox!" Edward exclaimed. "We're supposit tae stay in the yard. Orders frae the Fat Director!" Despite his own insistence, the offer to leave was tempting.
"He won't find out," said James. "Lighten up a bit!"
"Aye, he will," Edward said sternly.
"It'll only be for a bit!"
"Doesnae matter!"
"Please! The others have just left. No one else should be coming back, right?"
"Noā€™ for a while," replied Edward. He looked up. "Emily jist left wit the Express, Gordon is gaunā€™ae tae Vicarstown tae deliver a guids train, and Henry is pullin the regular passenger train before headinā€™ tae the docks wit a guids train from Barrow-in-Furness."
"Then we aren't disturbing anyone."
"Anā€™ the yard?"
"It'll be fine! It'll just be for a bit! Please!"
Edward frowned but then sighed. "Fine. It daes sound nice, but I dinnae like the idea oā€™ leavin' wit'out Sir Topham Hatt knowin'ā€¦"
"Don't worry! We'll be back shortly!"
ā€¦
And back shortly, they were. They had spent less than an hour traveling from Tidmouth to Wellsworth, before turning back.
As they approached Knapford Junction, Edward struggled to see the signals. He squinted, solely focused on the signals that he didn't notice Gordon coming from his left.
Gordon whistled loudly, startling Edward. "Edward! Watch out!" He exclaimed.
"Och!" Edward exclaimed as he pushed on his brakes. He braked in time, missing Gordon. "Gordon! I'm so-!"
"Edward and James!"
The three engines at the junction gasped as they saw the small chubby director storm over to them.
"Gordon, get back to work. Now," he said sternly.
"Of course, sir!" Gordon quickly replied as he chuffed away to Tidmouth.
"You two. The station, now!"
"Y-yes, sir!" exclaimed James.
"Aye, sir!" exclaimed Edward.
The two quickly chuffed towards Knapford Station, leaving the director behind to follow them.
Once the engines settled in the station, Sir Topham Hatt II spoke loudly and sternly at them.
"Edward and James, where have the two of you been?" he asked, raising his voice.
James panicked. "We were on the Main Line, but we didn't go far before coming back, sir!"
"Not far? You're not supposed to leave the shunting yards, the both of you know that!" the short and chubby director exclaimed with fury. He looked at Edward. "Especially you."
"I'm really sorry, sir. James really wantit tae gae, and I agreit. I really wantit tae wander around. Jist for a bit," Edward quickly exclaimed.
Sir Topham Hatt II sighed. "I can't say I'm not upset or disappointed, especially with you, Edward. From now, you're both staying in the yards. You are not to leave unless I say so, understand?"
"Aye, sir."
"Yes, sir," the two medium-sized tender engines replied in solemn unity.
"I hope you do. I'll come back next week instead. Clearly, you both need to learn and behave." Sir Topham Hatt II said sternly before walking away. He shook his head in disappointment, leaving the two engines to think about what they'd done.
ā€¦
The following day, James was listening to another of Glynn's stories. This time, it was about the old days of an old railway: The Tidmouth, Knapford, and Elsbridge Light Railway.
"... they were such great engines. Sadly, the first one didn't make it past the beginning of the century and the other was scrapped in nineteen-twenty. The other engines were scrapped by then, so it was just Edward and me. Thankfully, Emily, Henry, and Gordon have come along, and now you have as well." Glynn sighed. "You've been quite helpful since you got here."
"Mm. I'm glad I am," replied James.
His flat tone worried the red coffee pot engine. "You know, you've been quiet for most of the morning and I've noticed you've been ignoring Edward. Is something going on, chap?" Glynn asked.
James looked down, staying quiet.
"It's about yesterday, isn't it?"
The black medium-sized tender engine sighed. He continued to look down at his black running board. "Do you think Edward's mad at me?"
Glynn hummed. "He isn't one to stay mad for long. Talk to him."
"Alrightā€¦" James looked at Glynn. "Who were the other engines? Were they from other railways?"
"Wellā€¦" Glynn hummed. "There was a tender engine, along with two tank engines from the old Wellsworth and Suddery Railway, and two box-tank engines from the Sodor and Mainland Railway." He squinted, looking down in thought. "Actually, one of the box tanks might still be around here somewhere."
That piqued James' interest. "Really?"
"Maybe. I just don't know where. The tender engine was responsible for leaving them on a sidingā€¦ His name was-"
"Glynn! Break's over!"
Both engines looked in the direction of the sound. It was Glynn's driver, Gilbert Perkins.
"Alright, Mr. Perkins!" Glynn exclaimed. As Gilbert climbed into Glynn's cab, along with his driver, Glynn looked back at James. "Talk to Edward about it. It's the only way to know." He whistled a farewell and left to pick up Annie and Clarabel for his afternoon run.
James stayed behind in the empty and lonely area of the Tidmouth Yards.
He has a point.
ā€¦
It was easier said than done, James thought to himself.
For the past few days, he struggled to talk to Edward but managed to speak up to him, days after his conversation with Glynn.
"Edwardā€¦?"
The blue medium-sized tender engine looked back at James. "Hm?"
"Listen, I'mā€¦ I'm sorry."
Edward lifted an eyebrow. "For?"
"For making you leave the shunting yard. It got you in trouble and-"
"I'll stop ye richt thare," Edward interrupted, as he backed down to be right next to James. "Ye dinnae make me leave the shuntin yard. I chose to leave wit ye," he explained with emphasis.
"But still-"
"We're both tae blame for whit almost happenit," said Edward. "I actit upon my temptation an ye acted upon yer naivety."
"Naive?" said James offensively. "What do you mean 'naive?'"
"As in, ye dinnae know any better," Edward bluntly replied. "Thon's all."
James frowned.
"Och, thon reminds me. Sir Topham Hatt is cominā€™ tae see ye in a bit about yer first goods train later today," said Edward.
"What, why? Is there something else I need to know?"
"I think so," replied Edward. His eyes drifted to something elsewhere. He caught a glimpse of the man in question. "He's comin' this way. I'll continue work in the yard," he muttered as he quickly chuffed away.
Sir Topham Hatt II soon reached James. "There you are, James. Now, I came to remind you about the goods train you're taking today. Do you remember where and where?"
"From Brendam Docks to Vicarstown, sir?" replied James.
"Correct. Now, I need you to be careful. From what I've heard, you are capable of handling the Troublesome Trucks but please be cautious, alright?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Excellent! Now, please go to the Crovan's Gate Works," he said, smiling. "Welcome to the North Western Railway, James, our number six engine. I look forward to hearing good reports on your first run."
James gasped with joy. "On it! I won't let you down, sir!" he replied with determination and happiness as he left, smiling, to continue his work.
ā€¦
It was the late afternoon of that day when James arrived at Brendam Docks. He rolled in with the number 6 painted on his tender.
He was quite surprised to see how empty the docks were.
There was only one crane at the docks, doing all the unloading. James thought he saw a weird shape, a face of some sort on the crane. But it was too dark to be sure with the sun setting.
James wanted to say "hello" but decided not to. For all he knew, the crane probably had no face. I would make a fool of myself, he thought.
The black medium-sized tender engine was switched over to be able to back up into the goods train. A workman in the docks approached him, coupling James up to the goods train. He gave a quick thumbs up to Fred, James' driver.
"Alright, we're ready to go!" Fred hollered out for James to hear.
James' three-chime whistle rang throughout the docks, startling a few of the workers, before chuffing away.
ā€¦
James arrived at the Vicarstown Yards without any problems. The Vicarstown Station was there, which only consisted of platforms, and the abandoned Vicarstown Sheds were nearby. Gordon was there with Wild Nor' Wester for the afternoon.
Fred and George climbed out of his cab, walking towards the smokebox of the black medium-sized tender engine.
"We had a very good first run, didn't we, James?" asked Fred with pride.
"Everything went fine. There's nothing wrong," James replied, a bit thrown off. It still caught him off guard when someone asked for his opinion. "Yeah, it went well."
His crew chuckled, hiding their solemn feelings for the engine.
Fred Quill and George Turner were transferred over to the North Western Railway with James. While George wasn't married or had any family living with him, Fred did. Thankfully, his family agreed to move to Sodor, with special transportation provided by Sir Topham Hatt II to help with the move, having Emily be of assistance for both crewmen.
From their time on the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway, they had seen the trouble James went through as an experimental goods engine after his rebuild, especially with most of his siblings. And especially on the evening of James' last day on the LMS.
Suddenly, one of the workmen in the yard called out. "You may leave now! Emily will be coming by to take it from here!"
Without wasting any time, the crewmen climbed into their engine's cab and left the yard.
ā€¦
The following morning, James was the second to last engine to leave the sheds for work when he saw Henry in his berth.
Henry was usually the first to leave. However, the grand green tender engine looked ill. Too ill and tired to move.
"Henry? What's wrong?" asked James quietly.
"I'm having boiler problems again," replied Henry solemnly. "It happens a lot. I'm used to it."
"Since when have you had them?"
"When I was built. The old Fat Director was quite upset when he realized it," Henry replied.
"Can't they do anything to fix it?"
Henry shot a glare at James. "Not after they bought you," he snapped with sudden bitterness. "They said it was too expensive." He squinted at James. "Yet, his first investment was you."
James was thrown off. He hadn't interacted much with Henry but he had initially taken a liking for the grand green tender engine.
"I-Iā€¦"
"Just get to work," said Henry. He looked away with a frown. "If you're replacing anyone, it better not be me. Might as well replace Edward or Glynn. I've worked too hard for this railway, for goodness sake."
James stayed silent and left.
If you're replacing anyone, it better not be meā€¦
ā€¦it better not be meā€¦
Fred and George began to worry. "Let's go refill on coal and water, chap," said Fred, patting his engineā€™s cab.
As the black medium-sized tender engine chuffed away, Henry scowled and James could feel it be directed to him.
He felt extremely uncomfortable so he picked up the pace to quickly leave Knapford and head to Tidmouth. His crewmen hollered at him.
He could just use the coal hopper and water tower in Tidmouth Yards.
ā€¦
That afternoon, Henry passed through the yard, searching for his goods train. He was able to start running once again and, with enough convincing, Sir Topham Hatt II allowed Henry to pull his goods train to Barrow-in-Furness.
He looked around until he found a long train of trucks full of crates and tarp-covered trucks. Henry smiled at being able to find it as he backed down the front of the train. Nearby was James.
James was preparing a set of trucks to take to Brendam Docks when he saw Henry. He felt tense at seeing him, promptly attempting to ignore him.
Attempting.
"Afternoon, James," said Henry.
"Hi, Henry," James replied swiftly, with a frown.
The grand green tender engine frowned as well. "Listen, I'm sorry about-."
"I don't want to replace anyone," James said suddenly, interrupting Henry. "I didn't come here to replace either of you guys. I was brought to help you guys." James huffed. "Glad they didā€¦" What are you doing? "b-because you don't even do anything!"
"A-Anything?" huffed Henry. Now it was his turn to be thrown off as he fumed. "I work hard for this railway. I push myself to my own limits to get a single job done. I may have been defective, but at least I was appreciated, compared to the failure of an experiment you are!" His crew pulled on the brakes out of fear, locking him onto the track.
James was thrown off as Fred and George tried to soothe him. "How did you-?"
"I remember your sister, alright. The L and YR Class twenty-eight engine? Works number two-forty-three. The one who tried to get me out of that tunnel. I saw her at Barrow-in-Furness before you came here. In fact, I saw you there with her."
The black medium-sized tender engine stayed quiet.
"If you want to be worth the Fat Director's money, you better get going on those trucks, mate," said Henry with a scowl. "I'm leaving." With that, he whistled, announcing his departure from the Tidmouth Yards.
Fred jumped out of James' cab once Henry left, rushing to the front of the engine. James' cheeks burned, turning black as his boiler boiled and bubbled.
"James? Lad? Hello?" Fred called out.
They heard chuffing approaching them.
"W-what happened? James?" exclaimed Edward. He had been on the other side of the shunting yard when he heard a loud, distressing commotion. The blue medium-sized tender engine had seen Henry leave hastily.
"Hey, Quill. You guys alright?" hollered out Sidney Heaver, Edward's fireman as he jumped out of the cab, towards Fred.
"We are, but James isn't," replied Fred, slightly distracted as he tried getting James' attention. "Come on, lad!"
"James? James!" exclaimed Edward.
James wouldn't budge.
An idea came to him. "I'll see if I can find Glynn. He might be just the engine to bring him to." He whistled and chuffed away once Sidney climbed back onto Edward, leaving Fred and George with James.
By the time Edward had found Glynn, it was dark. Glynn had just returned from his final passenger run. Edward quickly shunted away Annie and Clarabel, with the usual gentle care.
But when they arrived, James had disappeared. He had left with his trucks for Brendam Docks.
ā€¦
The next day, Emily chuffed up to James, shortly before it was time to pull the Express.
"James, are you alright? I heard what happened yesterday," said Emily.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm alright," he replied.
Emily hummed. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I just needed some time to think alone, that's all."
"Rightā€¦" said Emily. "Listen, if you want to talk, just know that I'm here. So are Glynn and Edward."
"Thanksā€¦ Um, Emily, is there something wrong with Edward and Glynn?"
"Noā€¦ Well, Edward has steaming issues but not severe enough to prevent him from working, and Glynn has broken down a couple of times," she replied. "Why do you ask?"
"Nothing, just wondering."
"I know you're lying, mate," Emily said bluntly. "Did someone tell you something?"
James looked away and frowned.
"Jamesā€¦"
"Yesā€¦"
Emily sighed, having a good idea of who it was. "Bother. Don't listen to them. They don't know Edward and Glynn as much as I do. Those two are troupers."
"Will the Fat Director replace either one of them?"
"He would never, unlike the board," she grumbled.
"The board? They make the final decisions, don't they?"
"They do, somewhat, but they struggle because of the Fat Director. It takes a lot for both to agree, and that doesn't happen often from what I hear."
"And if it does, when it comes toā€¦ replacing?"
"Thenā€¦ it does."
ā€¦
Since that day, James has stayed quiet. Extremely quiet. He didn't like Emily's solemn tone. It bothered him, nagged at him as if a workman was scraping his firebox empty.
His sudden mood change did not go unnoticed but the attempts to speak to him were fruitless, except for Glynn.
"Glynn, there really is no way of escaping being scrapped, is there?" asked James.
The red coffee pot engine sighed. "I'm afraid so. In the end, we will be scrapped. The question isn't if we will be scrapped, it's when we will be scrapped," he replied solemnly. "What brings this up?"
"I just have a lot on my mindā€¦" said James. "I miss my sister."
"You always mention your sister, young lad," said Glynn. "You have other siblings, right?."
"I rather not," said James bitterly. "They were nothing but rude to me. Just absolutely profane." He glanced at Glynn, glaring at the thought of them. "Twelve-five fifty-five, two-forty-three before the Amalgamation, was the only one who respected me after my rebuild. She actually treated me the same way she would treat others."
"My apologies. I didn't mean to set you off," said Glynn.
"It's fineā€¦ I'm sorry for responding like that," James replied solemnly.
"We're just really worried about you, James. You weren'tā€¦ rude when you arrived," Glynn said bluntly. "And you've been acting quite odd."
"I need to get going," replied James. "I have another train to pull from Brendam."
The red coffee pot engine sighed. "Alright then, lad. Take care on the job! I'll see you later!"
James smiled. "Thank you! I'll see you later!" he exclaimed, with a sudden change of mood.
ā€¦
"James? James!"
The black medium-sized tender engine jerked awake. "Huh?"
"The Fat Director wants to speak with you," said Emily, who was on the turntable next to the sheds. "There's a little platform in Tidmouth Yards. His office is right there." She whistled. "Goodbye, see you later!" she exclaimed hastily.
"Ah, goodbye!" James exclaimed. He heard snoring to his left. There was Glynn.
That's weird, he thought. Glynn is usually off to work by nowā€¦
Not wanting to disturb the coffee pot engine, the black medium-sized tender engine left quickly and quietly.
ā€¦
The trek to Tidmouth Yards was uncomfortable and quiet, an appropriate feeling for James at the moment.
Since my rebuild, I wanted to be like every other engine, he thought to himself as he headed to the platform. But after thatā€¦ I don't think I want to be like any engine. I want to be unique. I want to be different. I want to be special, but still, be a really useful engine.
Sir Topham Hatt II spotted the approaching engine. "Good afternoon, James. I have something special for you," he said once James came to stop at the platform.
"What is it, sir?" asked James.
"Starting tomorrow, you will be going on a trial," Sir Topham Hatt II told him, his voice becoming stern.
"A trial, sir?" James asked, worried.
"I'm putting you on trial on the Ffarquhar Branch Line," said Sir Topham Hatt II. "You will be running the passenger service for that line."
James was shocked. He gasped. "A passenger train?" James asked nervously.
"Yes, a passenger train. That branch line is one of the only operational lines that we can afford right now, and many people from the south of Sodor depend on it. Don't let us down, James," he said sternly. "Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes, sir! I won't let the railway down. I will do my very best."
"You better. Go on with your work now."
"Yes, sir!" replied James. He whistled and chuffed away from the platform, leaving Tidmouth Yards.
ā€¦
"I heard ye were put oan trial oan the Ffarquhar Branch Line," asked Edward that afternoon in the Tidmouth Yards.
"Yeah, and?" James asked defensively.
Edward looked ahead, staring blankly at the landscape ahead. "I jist wantit tae say, congratulations," he replied. "I forgot tae say this the other day, but welcome tae yon railway, number six."
"Well, thank you very much," he said. James gestured toward his number. "Took you long enough."
Edward hummed. ā€œSorry, jist been busy, thonā€™s all.ā€ He yawned. "I'm gaun'ae get some rest. I'll see ye later," he mumbled as he chuffed away.
There was no response from James, as he was thinking, Twelve-five fifty-five, you were right. I did fit in just fineā€¦
I think.
.
.
.
It was a peaceful summer morning on the Island of Sodor, and today was James' first passenger run.
He was going along the Ffarquhar Branch Line when he heard an unfamiliar whistle. An engine, a stranger, approached right next to him.
When he looked over, he gasped and braked so suddenly. Sparks flew from his wooden brakes.
The engine had no face.
James recognized her from the many stories he had heard on the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway. The very vivid description going through his mind.
"Lady?"
"Indeed I am, James," Lady replied.
"W-What are you doing here?" James asked.
"I am here to simply tell you one thing."
"What is it?" he asked. An odd fear began to boil within him.
"It's one or the other, James. One or the otherā€¦" chanted Lady.
She continued chanting when another voice joined.
James looked ahead to see an engine that he knew all too well.
"One or the other," the L&YR Class 28 engine chanted with Lady, looking into James' eyes with no emotion. She was going backward on the track.
"T-Twelve-five fifty-five?" asked James nervously, his voice wavered.
"You see? You fit in just fine! It was one or the other, and you've gone for one," said LMS 12555 so uncannily. "You even have a name! James. What a splendid name for a splendid engine."
"I-I did!" he replied, trying to ignore the uncanny feeling that lingered in the air. "M-maybe one day, you'll be here with me! We can have a peaceful life on Sodor, sis!"
LMS 12555 frowned while Lady continued to chant in the background, "One or the other. One or the other. One or the otherā€¦"
At the same time, the space around them changed, and everything deteriorated. It became a black void with the tracks being the only thing in existence.
"But Jamesā€¦ it's one or the otherā€¦" she said as she began to deteriorate and fade away.
Before James could say anything, a sudden glow enveloped Lady. Within seconds, a golden light flashed, blinding a stunned James, who had a sad face of realization.
.
.
.
James woke up, heavily panting. He looked around in the darkness of Knapford Sheds. He looked to his left.
Glynn was gone. He hadn't seen him since yesterday morning.
It's one or the otherā€¦ James thought to himself as he began to panic. He squeezed his eyes shut as the phrase repeated itself in his mind.
One or the otherā€¦
One or the otherā€¦
One or the otherā€¦
~
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