#bertram philips

[alinnsurana]

the gal in gold 👀

ok so this is book 6 ish (pending other plot threads that need to be in play at this time) and we have a different narrator than the rest of the series:

“I know a place we can look, but you can’t tell anyone about it.”

A secret haunt of Thaddeus’s? Why hadn’t he heard about this before? “My lips are sealed, but what might this place be?”

“It’s a speakeasy.”

“I’m not a teetotaller, Florence. I can handle being around alcohol.”

“It’s also a speakeasy with a, particular kind of clientele.”

“I’m aware Thaddeus is bent. I’ll be fine,”

[elektrontree]

nearly a month old megamix stuff (and barista)

[cerenemuxse]

TGR but There's a Roleswap - Chapter 11

Chapter 11 - Goodbye

All in Vain (Season 20 Episode 16)

Word Count: 1,111

The story can be found at @tgr-2x5-roleswap-au for easier access.

~

As James filled up with water, the rest of the North Westerners approached him.

“I’m sorry, James but we couldn’t find him,” said Emily, feeling sorry for her little brother.

“He’s probably already left with the rest of his group,” suggested Henry. “Like some of the others have.”

“He could’ve at least said ‘goodbye,’” remarked Philip, only for Emily to shoot him a look.

"Philip!" hushed Thomas.

"What?"

“He probably had to leave quickly,” prompted Emily. “Who knows what they're having him do.”

“Yeah, I guess,” muttered James. Emily did have a point, for she had a sister who was preserved, the ex-GNR A1 Stirling Single No. 1.

Gordon stopped by with the Fat Controller in his cab, who peaked out from it. "Alright, everybody! Get yourselves refueled before we head home! We've still got a railway to run!"

"Yes, sir!" everyone, but Gordon, replied. Once the temporarily streamlined engine puffed away, Emily moved closer to James.

"We'll be near the entrance waiting for you, Jimmy," mumbled Emily before she puffed away, soon followed by the rest.

Once everyone had left, James was left brooding alone, wishing once again that he could see Edward one more time and say goodbye. But at the same time, he didn't because he knew it would hurt just as much or even more. James could vividly remember saying goodbye for the last time to one of his old LMS friends, shortly followed by his sister a few years later. After that, he was terrified every time he said goodbye to Donald and Douglas when heading over to Barrow-in-Furness. Thank goodness the Fat Controller bought both of them.

He didn't want to say goodbye. Not yet, at least, but he didn't have time.

"We need to get moving!" someone exclaimed. It was loud enough to snap James out of his thoughts. "Come on, Twenty-One!" they called out again.

Twenty-One? he thought as his eyes suddenly widened with hope.

"Aye, Coppernob," replied "Twenty-One." The accent pulled him out of his thoughts as it was swiftly followed by the whistle in that same solemn tone he heard yesterday.

James looked around, searching his surroundings. Just as he expected, his eyes quickly landed on a very small group of engines, far away and chuffing towards the entrance. One was a diesel pulling a flatbed with a small four-driver tender engine. On the track furthest away was a large tender engine. It was Edward with an expression he didn't quite recognize. It looked stiff and forced. Nothing like the looks he became familiar with.

As soon as his crew finished filling his water tank and got into his cab, James let out a shrill whistle. Some engines and people ignored it but others stopped and stared. He didn't care that others did so. He only cared if Edward did.

Edward came to a gentle halt. "James?" he immediately hollered out, getting stares from the other Furness engine.

James' lips curled into a wide grin with hope, just knowing that Edward recognized his whistle so easily. "Edward!" he exclaimed as he rushed forward, calling out for points to be switched.

"James!" Edward exclaimed as he finally caught sight of the engine coming towards him. Quickly, he reversed and started crossing over points, ignoring Coppernob calling out for him, and didn't notice the nasty glare from said engine.

Within a few minutes of maneuvering over points, both engines got onto the same track, facing one another.

"James! I-I'm sae sorry for leavin'!" Edward quickly sputtered out. "I didn't mean to leave! B-But the trust-"

"Don't worry about it!" James hastily interrupted, receiving a surprised look from the other, which shifted to a smile. "I'm just… glad to see you again…" He could feel his tubes tighten. "...and say goodbye."

Edward's smile faltered.

"But-!"

"Go on and say your farewells, Twenty-One!" interrupted Coppernob furiously. "The boat can't wait any longer, and neither can the trust! They didn't spend thousands of pounds on your restoration so you could go off meandering!"

"Give me a minute!" Edward yelled.

Coppernob was ready to retort when his crew and another man whispered something. James noticed Edward eyeing the older engine cautiously.

"Fine, but hurry. We don't have all the time in the world," Coppernob huffed. The diesel engine continued pulling him towards the entrance. The larger tender engines silently watched them move along.

"I'm sorry. Aboot him, thon is," said Edward, breaking the silence as soon as they were out of hearing range, getting James' full attention. "He's like thon."

"Is that normal?"

"Aye."

"But that's not okay."

"It's fine. I-I just ignore him. Most o' the time," said Edward, reassuring James. "Ye were sayin'?"

"Wha- Oh!" James began to panic. "I-I just wanted to say that, well, thank you."

"Thank me?" Edward let out a laugh. "I should be thankin' ye."

"For?"

"For bein' ma friend," replied Edward nervously. "I-I dinnae have any friends back home. And I mean anes thon are engines! It's just… me and the folks at the Furness Railway Trust. Nawthin' but human company, s-sae it's nice tae be able tae jist talk and have company wit' another engine after a while… No' thon human company is bad or anything! It's jist… ye ken?"

"It's nice to be around your kind?"

"Aye. Thon's whit I meant…"

"So… I'm the first engine you've spoken to in decades?"

"T-Thon’s Old Coppernob.Ye're ma first friend. I… I appreciate it. I dae, really."

Having seen the way Edward looked at Coppernob was enough to null James' curiosity. "Of course!" he replied cheerily, getting a smile from the other engine.

Before either one could say anything, they heard a barrage of whistles shrill, the sound getting louder.

"You found him!" exclaimed Emily as the other NWR engines approached the two. "We thought you'd left!"

"T-The trust wantit tae speak wit' me," replied Edward, flustered at the sudden attention. "Ma apologies! It wis'nae ma intention."

"No need! We're just glad we could catch you in time."

Edward chuckled. "I'm afraid I dae need tae go'. It wis nice meetin' ye all! Very nice.”

"The pleasure was ours," hummed Henry.

"Alricht! Well… guid-bye, everyane!" he exclaimed as he backed up and called out for the points to be switched. Once he switched over, he hesitantly said, "Guid-bye, James…"

"Good-bye, Edward," James replied hesitantly as he saw Edward leave and the others exclaimed their farewells, including the Fat Controller. As the goodbyes continued, Emily moved closer to James. "Come on, James. Let's go home," she hummed in a thoughtful tone. "I've got an idea, and I just know you'll like this one!"

That was enough to catch James' interest.

~

[curiousb]

The Dashwood Family Album: Volume XXI

Our recent graduates are out for a night on the town together. Although Ambrose and Marmaduke seem to have brought their parents along. And Keziah needs to stop swooning over Marmaduke like that, if she wants to regain William's trust.

They're all hitting The Dive Bar, in Sanditon.

Louie and Cassandra can't believe how many Sims in their circle are settling down, when it's the furthest thing from their minds!

Age notwithstanding, veteran sportsman Philip shows off his athletic prowess.

And everyone has a great time, dancing the night away. Except for Eliza, who seems to have inadvertently wandered into the bar wearing her lab coat.

It looks like Keziah's spell over Marmaduke might finally be broken, especially when she's all stinky after a night on the dancefloor.

Back at home, looks who's dropped by to see Keziah.

William doesn't care about a bit of stink - not when it comes to the love of his life!

And after a quick shower, and a bowl of macaroni cheese...

...he's up for a bit of late-night canoodling on the couch.

The next day is an important one - Keziah's first day in her new job!

Well done, Keziah! (I still would have let it go though.)

Aunt Marianne, who works at the same facility, takes the opportunity to come home with Keziah at the end of the day, share some leftover macaroni cheese, and tell her youngest niece how proud she is of her academic achievement.

There's another visitor later that evening, and Keziah can't wait to tell him about her swift promotion.

Post university, they're settling into a very comfortable routine, and William's mind is turning again towards their longer-term future, although he seems to be feeling more optimistic about it now...

I don't know what went wrong, but Keziah's luck ran out, and despite a very promising start, the oceanographic facility decides to let her go! Never mind, Keziah, you always knew it wasn't forever, and I'm sure there are plenty of other opportunities out there, for someone as versatile as you.

At least the day picks up towards the end, with a cosy evening on the sofa with William, getting a crick in her neck from watching an awkwardly-angled TV together.

[whyareyouhere66]

Call Me A Snitch - Benny Rodriguez/The Sandlot x GN Reader

“Could it be something like benny rodriguez x gn!reader and its they are on philips team and playing against the sandlot boys and the philips convinces the reader to cheat by using like this sticky rosin stuff…”

Here we go @yourgirljen4life - hope you enjoy and I hope this is what you were looking for 

[mind you I don’t know a lot about rosin or anything- also Phillips doesn’t have a listed full name, so I used the actors first name.]

CW: slightly rushed I haven’t written in a hot minute, not heavy on any relationships, Wil Phillips

Benny Rodriguez x GN!Tiger’s player Reader

x

It’s the middle of the day, sun hot and sticky beating down on the trees and dirt that cover the ground, temperature at least 80 degrees, when I realize I should’ve stayed home.

I used to say I’d never miss a good game of baseball, especially not with someone as invested as Benny Rodriguez or Wil Phillips. But then again, I’ve never played such an un-fun one in my life. Which is actually pretty impressive.

The ball swings across the field as Benny’s team hits it spot on again, and I see as our outfielder scurries to get it. I can’t remember who’s out there, probably Eric. Guess that wasn’t a great idea. Bertram, looking accomplished, smoothly jogs across the base. 

They’re getting real cocky, now. It’s funny, I think, I’d crack a grin when I hear Ham’s next remark but with the vein nearly popping out of Phillips’ forehead I decide to bite it back. 

“How are we doing so shit?” I hear him ask, but I don’t think he wants a real answer. The expensive jerseys can only cover so much, an idea he seems very much unaware of.

I look down at my wrinkled jersey, the white fabric tinted with dirt after I took a dive for home base in the last inning. I dust some of it off, hearing another crack of the wooden bat across the way. To follow, a curse mumbled from Phillips lips. 

I sigh slightly, and glance back at the score board. We’re down by 2, which isn’t horrible, but I know we’d all prefer not being down at all. My cleats scuff against the sand as I stand up from our bench, and stand next to the blonde boy. His gaze is strong and fixed on the new batter, Benny. 

‘Oh boy.’ 

Droplets of sweat trickle down his forehead, over his nose, and he stares intently at our pitcher. He’s in jeans in a t-shirt, to no one’s surprise, and I look over him as he gets into position. His eyes narrow, blocking the sun the best they can. 

From the dugout, I watch with crossed arms. I still remember the first game against the sandlot boys- when Phillips tried to stand off on their own field. I think that’s when I first realized, baseball would be a lot more fun if there weren’t the pressure of winning constantly on my shoulders. 

He’s so focused, swaying the bat over his shoulder and adjusting his feet across home base. Beside me, Phillips’ scoffs, I can basically hear how his teeth clench in his jaw.

Benny hits it mere feet away from the fence, our outfielder sprinting for it and suddenly Phillips’ hand grabs a firm hold on my shoulder, snatching my thoughts from the game.

“This is bullshit,” he complains, and uses the grip on my shoulder to turn me towards the bench behind us, “come on.”

My arms remain crossed even as he tugs me towards his bag, and he leans down to grab something from inside. Red flag, I think, he’s up to something.

“You’re up next,” when he comes back up, he’s holding a small tub in his hand, “use this.” 

I look down at the tub in his hands, and skim over the word “Rosin” bolded on the lid. 

He’s gotta be kidding.

I glance up at him, he’s looking at me expectantly, as if I’m supposed to immediately understand. When I don’t enthusiastically go along with it, he rattles his hand impatiently.

“No.” I tell him, and he groans.

“Y/n come on-“ he whines, “we’ve gotta get a leg up.”

“This is pathetic, Phillips.”

He groans again, dramatically throwing his head back, and I feel his fingers tightening against the bone of my shoulder. 

“Dude- it’s not a big deal, just do it so we don’t lose against these…” he looks back to the field, where Benny has already made it to 2nd base and players from our team and his are spread across the dirt and grass. Ham chuckles smugly, rolling up to base, and immediately just from one look at the field Phillips’ face scrunches into one of disgust. 

“…losers.”

He finishes, I scoff.

“Dude.”

He doesn’t listen to my protest at all, instead shoving the tub of rosin into my hand. Tan fingers slip away from my shoulder, finally, and he reaches back into his bag and pulls out another baseball, placing it into my free hand. 

“Do it, or I swear to god L/n.”  He looks at me like he’s giving a threat, which he is, but it’s not a strong one. I sigh, and he steps away from me back to the edge of the dugout to watch the game. I’m left alone by the cluttered bench.

Looking down at the ball and the tub, I sigh once more. But nonetheless, I unscrew the tub. 

It’s a bad idea, pathetic as I said, I should’ve known the second we went down a point Phillips would resort to a cheat. 

.

But hey, it worked. 

My fingers are still sticky with rosin as the game ends- the scoreboard has changed, now in our favor with 3 points above the sandlot group. 

Curses echo from them as ham kicks the dirt below his feet, and I watch as Benny throws his hat to the ground in a fit. It clashes well with the smug cheers from my team- but at the sight of the others so defeated, I feel guilty.

“Told you.” Phillips’ smirks into my ear, patting my shoulder much harder than needed before strutting off with the rest of the team. I dont join him, though.

It wasn’t our win to get. 

“Some pop and fries at the diner sound good to you guys?” Phillips asks, raising his voice knowing the sandlot boys will hear him across the dugout. Of course he needs to rub it in, sometimes i think he’s a better actor than he is a baseball player.

As my team saunters off, I listen in on the grumbles from Benny’s team.

“Damn tigers…” ham mumbles, glaring at the ground. 

“Yeah yeah- we had ‘em in the first half too. Like, what the hell?”

With all the mumbling, Benny shakes his head with a glare. I can tell by the clench of his fist he’s frustrated, he turns around to his friends.

“Just shut up about it guys- we lost, it’s whatever.” His voice contradicts him easily, but it quiets his friends grumbling a fair amount. He spins back around, about to match off to their dugout, and last second my mouth opens.

“Wait!”

They all turn around, faces still dark as ever when they see me approaching them, trying to catch up with a light jog. I don’t know why I’m doing this, I’ve never been much more than acquaintances with them, but it’s obvious they’re better friends than my team will ever get to be. Maybe that’s what motivates me to continue.

“Hold on, it’s,” I pause, breathing out and coming to a stop right in front of them, “hold on.”

“What do you want?” Squints obnoxiously adjusts his glasses at me. The only ones not glaring me down seem to be Smalls and the twins. Though, when i catch Benny’s eyes again there isn’t any anger directed at me behind his gaze. 

“I,” I glance behind me, my team is gone, and I turn back with a hesitant look, “you didn’t lose.”

This seems to confuse them, Bertram scoffs.

“Right, funny.” He says bitterly.

“Yeah yeah, hilarious.” Yeah yeah pipes up, but Squints holds up a finger to both of them, staring at me with vague interest.

Benny is lost, closing his eyes in thought. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t technically lose,” I rephrase, “not legally, I mean.”

When they’re about to question me further, I look down at my hand and squeeze my fingers, the rosin sticking to my skin. They catch on quickly, by the time I look back up squints has already marched over to me.

“What’s this?” He questions, grabbing my hand and examining the skin. I awkwardly watch on as he recognizes the sticky shit on my hand, glaring at me in disbelief. Spinning around to the others, he grabs my wrist.

“They used sticky rosin!” He exclaims, holding up my hand for the others like a clue. His friend’s eyes widen, and I take my hand back to quickly explain.

“They cheated?” Smalls let the question sit in the air, because no one really answered him.

“It was Phillips’ idea,” none of them are surprised, as Benny mutters with rolling eyes, “he got pressed when you started winning, he’d kept some in his bag.” 

Groans rumble from the group, I notice as Benny pulls off his hat once more, leaving his sweaty hair to the breeze. 

“I mean- are we surprised?” His voice is thick in sarcasm, standing out over the grumbles from Ham and Yeah Yeah.

“No- of course that blonde Bambi would cheat, pussy move.” Bertram curses, and despite their glares I feel a grin form at the words “blonde Bambi.”

“Sorry- I should’ve told him to quit, but…”

The hot sun is baking my skin, the baseball cap sitting on my head only giving so much. 

“So why didn’t you?” Ham quips- I almost bite my tongue, but Benny whacks him with his hat. 

“Shut up,” he clicks his tongue, before his gaze returns to me, and I’m not really sure what to do with it. “Thanks for uh- for telling us.” He gives the slightest hint at a smile, his teeth sticking through his lips. I smile back at him, the guilt from before falling further into the back of my mind. 

“Yeah- I mean,” I dip my head, “you guys were having a lot more fun out there than I’ve had in a minute.”

Smalls furrows his eyebrows. “Then you should play with us!”

Everyone turns to look at him.

I’m surprised by his offer, though not at the many, many quips thrown his way afterwards. I’ve never thought about it, never having been invited before, but now that the idea is fresh in front of me I consider it.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Benny jumps in- and that’s what really surprises me. 

“For real?” I ask, and Benny steps forward, blocking off the rest of the boys from giving their loud input. Face to face, I finally notice more of his grin. 

“Yeah- might be fun, plus, would drive Phillips crazy.” 

I grin. 

He holds out a hand to me, and I have to remember to switch to the not sticky one to return the gesture.

“We’ll play tomorrow- the sandlot at noon. If you’re in, join us.”

His hold is firm, yet his hands are softer than I think I expected.  Despite the blisters that cross his palm, his touch is warm. I look up at him through the shade of my hat. For a second, he looks hopeful. And after a moment of thinking, pushing away the migraine for Phillips to face the second he finds out, I nod.

“I’ll be there.”

He’s the last the leave as the others walk away, Smalls walking by his side at the back of the group as Benny throws me one last shiny grin.

Not as uninteresting as I thought it would be anymore- I walk home with the Tiger’s jersey now in lost value on my shoulders. 

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Length of Years: A Rapunzel Retelling

The woman in the tower brushed her hair. It had long ago turned white, and had grown to cover most of the floor in her little stone room. She braided it with lightning speed, her gnarled fingers confidently completing the familiar task.

Her gaze wandered through the chamber filled with the works of a lifetime. Tapestries she'd woven. Books she'd read and written. Dresses she'd designed. Plants she'd carefully tended until flowering vines framed her one window to the outside world. Evidence of arts she'd mastered, skills she'd developed--once sources of pride and joy, and now simply the remains of an empty life.

Now that her mother was dead, what did she have to live for? She'd sacrificed her life out of loyalty to the woman who'd given her everything; she'd never dreamed that someday she'd be the one left alone. This tower room had been her world; now that world seemed pathetically small. A dismal showing for so many decades.

She sang to banish the thoughts--song was her only weapon in her war against the hostile silence. The song was a light ditty from her younger years, about a bird in a cage, flying free. She'd sang that song often, once upon a time, to an awestruck audience. The only visitor this tower had ever held.

Unbidden, he appeared before her mind's eye. Young. Strong. Dark-haired. Square-jawed. With scarred hands and a dimpled chin and laughing eyes. He'd come to see her, day after day, and filled her world with a joy she'd never before known.

He'd asked her to leave with him; she'd refused, for Mother's sake, again and again, until he'd spoken so abusively against Mother that she grew offended for her sake, and told him to leave and never return. He'd obeyed her wishes, as he always had, and now she had nothing left of him but memory and regret.

She sang all the stronger as the memory turned to sorrow. She'd had her chance and thrown it away. Time had devoured any hope she'd ever had. What was the use of wishing otherwise? She was, and would be, now and forever, alone.

Even the song couldn't change that, so she stopped singing.

And in the silence, she heard a voice.

"Rapunzel! Rapunzel!"

An illusion. A hallucination. A phantom voice conjured by an abundance of memory and solitude and a lack of anything else.

The voice persisted. "Let down your hair!"

The voice was weaker than the one she remembered. Graveled. Worn. Aged.

But beneath it all, a familiar tone that brought her mind back to a time when she was fair-skinned, golden-haired, slender, willowy and oh-so-young.

She raced to the window with a speed she hadn't been capable of in years. Her joints creaked as she leaned far out the window, clinging tightly to the ledge to maintain her delicate balance as she looked down.

At a man in well-worn travel clothes marked with the royal coat of arms.

"I heard your singing," he said.

His hair was shorter than she remembered, gray and frazzled but still remarkably thick. His square jaw had grown jowls, his face had grown lines, his eyes had grown dimmer. But his smile as he gazed upon her was as bright as the one she saw in her memories each night.

With a bow that was slower but no less elegant for the passing of years, he asked, "My lady, might I ascend?"

With a joy she hadn't known she could ever possess, Rapunzel gathered up her endless white lengths of braid and let down her hair.

**

The climb took longer than Rapunzel remembered, but at last her visitor reached the window, and Philip Peregrine Bertram, prince of Whitbay, entered her chambers once more.

He bent double as he caught his breath. "Has your window always been that high?"

"It hasn't moved," Rapunzel said.

And neither have I.

Philip heard the unsaid and more valuable words. His gaze, when he stood straight and looked at her, held the compassion she'd always admired. "I heard of your mother's passing."

"It was very sudden." Mother had collapsed in the middle of a conversation, just after a climb up the tower in the rain. Rapunzel had buried her body beneath the stones of the tower's lowest level.

"My sympathies," Philip said.

He was the first to offer them, in all these weeks. Despite the hatred Rapunzel knew he had for her mother, she knew his words were genuine.

That, more than anything, brought the tears to her eyes. "Thank you."

Philip offered a handkerchief, which she took without shame. "Do you have food? Supplies?" he asked.

Rapunzel nodded, glad for the switch to more practical matters. "There are garden boxes here in the tower, and a boy comes every week with supplies."

"And you've stayed?"

She shrugged. "I had nowhere else to go."

No one else to go to.

He heard these unspoken words, too, and his face, as he sighed, seemed to age another ten years. "Rapunzel," he breathed. "I am so very sorry."

His voice held such depth of regret that she knew he apologized for far more than her mother's passing.

Despite herself, Rapunzel's words of response sounded far younger than the girl he had known. Like a child's--small, delicate, broken, plaintive. "Why did you never come back?"

"You asked me not to," Philip said. "And I had my pride. I might have returned, when my temper cooled, but then there were the wars, the diplomatic missions, the voyages, the marriage treaty, the children..." He sat wearily on her window ledge. "By the time life slowed down, I assumed you'd long ago moved on, and it would have been disloyal to seek you out. I only came to the village by chance and heard the locals speaking of the woman in the tower. Then I came to the woods and heard your song..."

He trailed off as he gestured to the room around them.

"I see," Rapunzel said, though she could barely even imagine it. An entire life full of war and travel and conflict and change happening quickly enough to obscure the passage of time, while she'd stayed here in the same set of rooms as the long, slow seconds marched lazily by.

"Did no one else ever come to the tower?" Philip asked, sounding almost desperate to hear some hint of joy from her life.

"No one," Rapunzel said simply. "Mother made certain of that."

Philip's jaw clenched, and there was a spark of the old fire in his eye, but he did not speak ill of the dead.

"I never mentioned you to her," Rapunzel said, "but she must have been suspicious--I wept so often in the weeks after our argument. She set barriers and traps in the woods after that. Spread rumors that I was mad and violent. The only outsiders who ever came were the boys who delivered supplies, and Mother always hired slow-witted lads who didn't ask questions."

"And..." Philip swallowed back some emotion. "And she was your only company?"

"She was never unkind to me," Rapunzel said, for she hadn't been, whatever her other crimes. "She made certain I never lacked anything I wanted."

"Except for freedom."

Rapunzel shook her head softly. "For a long time, I wasn't sure I wanted that. If I left, how could you find me? And by the time I believed you'd never come, I knew enough of the world to know I was safer here."

"Friendship, then."

"I did want that," Rapunzel admitted. "You don't know how much." Her fists clenched and her words quavered. "Sometimes, I thought it would break me."

Philip rose to his feet and caught her hand between his. "But it didn't," he said, with soft reassurance.

"Not yet."

"It won't," he said, with the firm compassion of age. "Not while I live." He raised her hand between their faces and looked deep into her eyes. "We've lost so many years, Rapunzel. I can't begin to atone for what you've been denied, but I can make certain that you're denied it no more. Come with me. Leave this place."

Rapunzel felt as though the tower had crumbled beneath her, leaving her no firm place to stand. It was more than she had dared to hope for, not for years and years and years. "How can I?" she whispered. "Your wife and family..."

"My wife passed nearly ten years ago. My children won't deny me the comfort of your friendship."

She gazed out the window toward a distant world glowing with a purple sunrise. "It's been too long," she said. "Too much life wasted. So little time ahead."

Philip's eyes, when she looked back at him, were as bright as those of the boy she'd once known. "Then we'd best not lose another minute."

**

Her head felt impossibly light. Her hair felt strange where it brushed against her shoulders. She secured the long, long braid to the pulley outside her window, then let down her hair one last time.

Philip secured her in the braid like a harness, and slowly lowered her to the ground. When her feet were firmly on the grass--it was so much softer than she'd imagined!--he climbed down and landed beside her.

Philip took her hand in his. "Are you ready?" he asked.

She nodded, too full of joy to speak.

"We'd best be on our way, then."

With her face toward the sunrise and her hand wrapped in his, Rapunzel strode forward and left the tower behind.

[philibetexcerpts]

18 December 1952: The Queen and Prince Philip gossiped as they waited for the Bertram Mills Circus show to start.

[bethanydelleman]

This blog does not condone violence, however....

The difficult choice between punching John Thorpe because he's a creep, punching John Dashwood for being a selfish jerk, or slapping some sense into Edmund Bertram.

[sillysoraya]

I've been messing around in my Austen sims hood again for the first time in ages, and what a fun group they are! Nothing very serious, realistic, decorated etc. just fun seeing who gets on best.

I dropped out a bunch from uni into houses and apartments in the main hood ,as I didn't think they all suited uni life (Robert Martin on his own farm, Catherine Morland, Fanny Price & Harriet Smith share a house together which I've actually called Mrs Goddard's Parlour House haha, Lydia & Kitty Bennet share an apartment, George Wickham & John Willoughby share an apartment, and Frederick Wentworth is sharing his house with fellow Adventurer James Benwick for now).

Having these sims leave campus might cause some shifts in the relationships that have been developing though, as many of these sims were in raptures with those still at uni! Things haven't developed as much as I'd like in their lives in general as most of the time I load the hood, tweak personalities etc., have a bunch of them mingle on one lot, then save and leave haha.

Here is the beautiful but cruel Caroline Bingley for starters, the rest under the cut.

Henry Tilney and John Willoughby have been all over each other since the beginning, but Willoughby's dropped out, so I'm not sure how that will go over with them both and if they'll stay true or look elsewhere (sweet Henry please don't be attached to him!).

Strangely enough, their girls Catherine Morland and Marianne Dashwood haven't felt particularly bothered by this turn of events...

Frederick Wentworth has been very physical with Mary Crawford, but again, maybe their eyes will wander now Frederick has left campus for life in the main hood.

Edmund Bertram has been very openly affectionate with many of the ladies. With Fanny Price recently moving away, perhaps Mary Bennet or Anne Elliot will take up more of his thoughts now? He has 3 bolts with all of them. But James Benwick (bottom right with goatee) is smitten with Fanny and Anne too.... fight!

Elinor Dashwood has both Edward Ferrars and Christopher Brandon chasing after her, and she has 3 bolts and crushes on both. Who will she choose?

Lizzie Bennet and Charlotte Lucas are still all over each other constantly, and now rolling engagement wants. Maybe they'll stick it out and move in together after graduation?

Augusta Hawkins and Philip Elton are very happy together, which is good as no one else is interested in them! I can see these two becoming a permanent thing.

A cute pairing I didn't anticipate - George Knightley and Jane Bennet! To be fair, Mary Bennet kept rejecting and then bullying him, so I think Jane is a better choice!

Harriet Smith and Robert Martin are both very sweet on each other (Robert was a little obsessed actually), and with both heading back to the main hood, maybe it won't be long before Harriet joins Robert on his farm? He could do with the help at least!

I think giving Jane Fairfax the loner trait was a bad idea - she's constantly picking fights with the cafeteria worker and has minus relationship levels with almost everyone!! Might need to switch that out for shy or something...

[rygoespop]

List of characters that appear in my Thomas and Friends AU

Main:

Thomas

Edward

Henry

Gordon

James

Percy

Toby

Emily

Molly

Rosie

Stanley

and Rebecca

Secondary/Supporting:

Duck

Donald and Douglas

Oliver

Wilbert

BoCo

Philip

Bill and Ben

Derek

Timothy

Marion

Salty

Porter

Daisy

Ryan

Brent the Ballast Spreader

Mavis

Sidney

Arry and Bert

Diesel

Den

Dart

Diesel 10

Billy

Norman

Arthur

Harvey

Bear

Stafford

Fergus

Charlie

Dennis

Murdoch

Flora

Belle

Flynn

Whiff

Scruff

Neil

Neville

Hank

Sonny

Paxton

Ferdinand

Bash and Dash

Glynn

Stephen

Dustin

Winston

Skarloey

Rheneas

Sir Handel

Peter Sam

Rusty

Duncan

Duke

Bertram

Smudger

Freddie

Mighty Mac

Luke

Millie

Victor

Culdee

Wilfred

Harry (Formerly known as Lord Harry and later as Patrick)

Alaric

Godred

Mike

Rex

Bert

Flying Scotsman

Spencer

Stepney

Connor

Caitlin

Samson

Merlin

Lexi

Theo

Hurricane

Frankie

D261

Splodge (Splatter and Dodge)

Jinty and Pug

Patriot the Big City Engine

Mallard

Green Arrow

Thirteen

Hiro

Gator

Ashima

Rajiv

Yong Bao

Shane

Vinnie

Sam

Axel

Gina

Raul

Etienne

Frieda

Hugo

Ivan

Carlos

Lady

Proteus

Annie and Clarabel

Henrietta

Toad

Old Slow Coach

Bruno

Rocky

Judy and Jerome

Hector

SCruffey

Fred Pelham

The Slip Coaches

Bradford

Catherine

Bertie

Bulgy

Terence

Trevor

Caroline

Elizabeth

George

Butch

The Horrid Lorries

Kevin

Madge

Thumper

Jack

Alfie

Oliver

Ned

Max and Monty

Isobella

Kelly

Byron

Buster

Bulstrode

Skiff

Captain

Harold

Jeremy

Cranky

Carly

Big Mickey

Reg

Owen

Merrick

And Beresford

Coming Soon:

Logan

Ulli

Duchess of Hamilton

Flying Thistle

D199

Albert

Kenji (Maybe)

Ivo Hugh

Ada, Mabel, Jane, and Cora

City of Turo

2007 Prince of Wales

W1

Old King Coal

Elsie

Hannah (Henrietta’s Sister)

Helena and Victoria

Frank

So, there you have it

[yr-obedt-cicero]

You mention in a reblog that it would have been very easy for Hamilton's family-in-law and enemies to discover his real birthdate. Genuinely, though - how? Records, if they were accurate or even kept, were inaccessible to them. Hamilton's West Indies contacts were all clearly muddled about his birth year (given the many contradictory answers - and frankly, I wouldn't know off hand when many of my close friends were born either). Surely his lying about it would have been trivially easy?

I hadn't meant by records, seeing as how we struggle to this day to find any concrete records of Hamilton's true birthyear. But yeah, his contacts. A good, but small, handful of Hamilton's associates from the West Indies were also located at New York, or the Colonies in general—And others at least remained in contact with him or his family. To name a few, Hamilton's father and cousin, Anne Mitchell, remained in contact with him, and Anne even visited and wrote to Eliza after his death. We have scarce surviving correspondence between Hamilton and his father, but if he was planning to let him move to NYC to live with them; it can be speculated that Eliza may have written a few letters to him, or he sent his own to others in New York.

Or the can of worms Edward Stevens' offers, he was Hamilton's boyhood best friend from St. Croix, and attended King's College where they attended the same class club and had shared some of the same friends, Nichoals Fish, Robert Troup, etc. If there was one person who we had to trust to know Hamilton's birthyear out of the surviving relatives or friends he had at the time, it would have likely been Stevens. Stevens's brother-in-law, James Yard, knew a good amount about Hamilton and his childhood considering later he was able to provide information for Timothy Pickering, who was planning to write a biography about Hamilton. The same one that mentions the possibility of Thomas Stevens being Hamilton's real father. Additionally, there is the Kortright family; Monroe's wife, Elizabeth Kortright Monroe, was a cousin of Hester Kortright Amory, Stevens's wife. And Elizabeth K. Monroe's uncle was one of Hamilton's employers from the Island, Cornelius Kortright, who worked with Nicholas Cruger. He helped handle Hamilton's financial dealings when he first made it to the Colonies. With all this being said, I highly doubt everyone was just keeping this a secret. Especially with their close relations to James Monroe, one of Hamilton's rivals, who could have easily used it against him.

And going back to Cruger, he would have definitely known Hamilton's contrasting age considering he was his employer at the Cruger Counting house. He also moved back to New York and saw Hamilton again, even once there were rumors spreading by the press that Hamilton could become governor with him as lieutenant governor in 1795. Catharine Church, the eldest Church daughter, married Bertram Peter Cruger, Cruger's son.

And all of Hamilton's associates from the Colonies roughly followed the 1757 belief. But you are right saying; “and frankly, I wouldn't know off hand when many of my close friends were born either.” Because as @46ten as recently added on, we are putting way too much emphasis on a birth year than what those of that day would. We value birth dates more strongly than when even as recently as a century ago, we did not. Today birth dates are now widely used for identification, but back when containing written documents was more of a hassle (As finding documents from Nevis has proven), not many were inclined to do such. In a day in age, where many families didn't even celebrate birthdays often, it wasn't much more than a passing thought for most. There is even a humorous story of Eliza forgetting JCH's birthday when he was young;

John is as industrious as usual and this Evening has ascertained that he is not more than twelve last August. I had thought him to have been thirteen but he is not more than twelve.

Elizabeth Hamilton to Philip Schuyler, [1804]

So, not only is it likely Hamilton wasn't even sure of his own birth year, but it wasn't a large deal back then. Does that mean it never would have been brought up? No, and I'm sure with all the previously mentioned close ties to Hamilton's in-laws and rivals, something would have noticeably not connected if so. And I doubt this many people were just in on Hamilton's whole facade. But it seems like a bunch of worthless mental gymnastics and risky lie for Hamilton to maintain for nearly 30+ years of his life, especially when many were out looking for anything to use against him.

[saintsenara]

it's sirius' birthday today, so - naturally - i have decided to depress myself by writing a little story about the the great tragedy of his happy life being snatched away from him at the ripe old age of almost twenty-two.

the title for this pieces comes not from the philip larkin poem of the same name - although it's not not sirius-coded - but from the song live fast, die old by frank turner, which is the most james-and-sirius thing i've ever heard.

September 1979

‘It is a miracle you’re not dead.’

‘I thought I was about to be. You should have seen the way he was brandishing those fire tongs.’

‘I think you might actually be the luckiest bastard alive, Pads. I’m in awe.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t have wanted to die without you being there to witness it. If I’m going to get my head caved in by Mad-Eye Moody for breaking a mug without giving him prior warning and making him think there’s a Death Eater lurking in his kitchen cupboards, then I expect you to enjoy watching it happen.’

‘As, indeed, I would. Pass me that bottle?’

Sirius hands him a bottle in which the last dregs of a very good firewhisky - the mellow, amber colour of late summer - undulates. James swigs from it.

‘You look like a twat doing that.’

‘No I don’t! I look cool!’

‘You look like a fifteen-year-old having his first drink.’

James snorts. ‘Listen, you know I don’t, because you were there when I had my first drink. So you know that -’

‘- the fact you’re not hurling your guts up crying about how you’ll never win the world cup means that this is nothing like that.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Fair enough.’

James passes the bottle back and flops once more on the grass. The golden haze of sunrise slouches over the garden - catching the lime-green leaves of the beech and the dew-drops on the spider’s webs hanging from the door of the shed James never uses - and the whole garden seems to be encased in glass; a terrarium - shimmering and shining - which has been made into their perfect habitat, like the weird moss-filled thing Bertram bloody Aubrey used to have for his toad.

He imagines some benevolent owner lovingly arranging the detritus of their impromptu party - he’d only come round to update James and Lils on his latest meeting with Mad-Eye, Dumbledore’s orders, and that was fifteen hours ago - on the lawn around them and starts laughing.

‘What are you giggling about?’ grins James, his eyes glittering like caramel as it’s poured from a pan. A surefire sign that his mind was turned towards mischief.

‘I don’t even fucking know. Fucking everything, Prongs.’

James starts laughing too. He has a perfect laugh - uproarious and rich, the sort of laugh you wish could be preserved in amber - and it’s perfect for that morning, with its golden dawn and the crisp-apple bite to the air which says that autumn, and its promise of driving Lily to distraction by carving rude things into pumpkins, is on its way. It’s perfect for that perfect morning, when they’re both that brilliant sort of drunk which makes the soft blue of the sky seem all the clearer.

He lies back, the grass tickling his cheek, and looks up at the heavens, which stretch endlessly before him, revealed bit-by-bit by the new day’s light.

That horrible house - the prison of his childhood - seems so far away that he’s not sure he didn’t dream the whole thing.

It seems like something out of a fairytale - the sort of topsy-turvy formlessness of fantasy - to think that he had once been so miserable that he’d longed to self-destruct, to shatter like a dry bone and be scattered. It seemed absurd to look back at his sixteen-year-old self, rattling around on the Knight Bus as it sped him to James, and to freedom, and realise that he had once been unable to comprehend the idea of being truly happy.

But he is. Life stretches before him unfettered, beckoning to him and James and winking knowingly. You won’t grow old gracefully, it says, with a mischievous glint in its eye. Neither will he

It’s got that right. He and James made a promise within seconds of meeting to still be friends when they were ninety, living next door to each other and scandalising all the village witches and impressing all the village children with the rumours about their dissolute youths. And dissolute middle ages.

‘You’re my best friend,’ says James, because the whisky’s hit him. ‘We’re going to be best friends forever. Even when we’re fucking ancient.’

‘Yep. I know we are.’

‘This was a great party, wasn’t it, Pads?’

‘Party of the year, I’ve heard.’

‘I think I’d like every party I ever have to be like this.’ He’s staring at the sky, squinting behind his glasses, suddenly introspective. The sunlight makes his skin look like honey.

Sirius does the same. ‘I promise that all your parties will start because I have a run-in with Alastor Moody, Lils wants an excuse to open a bottle of cherry brandy, and you want the chance to act like a soft cunt at five in the morning,’ he says, watching a beam of sunlight shimmers behind a cloud, turning its solid white fluffiness into something sheer - gauzy - like a veil.

‘Cheers, mate. Appreciate it.’

The undulating blue-and-gold of morning is so beautiful, clouds rising up like castles from the sea. If Sirius wasn’t so happy it would be painful to see it. As it is…

‘I think sometimes that me and Lils will move by the sea,’ says James. ‘When we’re older. When we have a couple of kids. Yeah, we’ll move by the sea. And have parties in a house all filled with light.’

[smol4bluengine]

It had been a few months since Edward's last visit to the steamworks. Mr. Percival had gotten word from Sir Topham Hatt a few months back that the steamworks had the parts needed to proceed with repairing Gordon. This was a big mood booster for the engines, feeling relieved and hopeful that things would turn out fine for their big engine friend. Now all they had to do was wait patiently to find out if the surgery was successful, which left the engines on pins and needles in anticipation. One day at Knapford, Mr. Percival was sitting at Sir Topham Hatt's desk looking over that day's schedule.  The narrow- gauge conductor's thoughts were soon interrupted by the ringing of the phone. He quickly answered. "Hello, Sir Topham Hatt's office, Mr. Percival speaking." Mr. Percival answered. "Ah, Sir Topham Hatt! What can I do for you today sir"? Mr. Percival asked. Station masters and rail workmen temporarily stopped what they were doing to discretely listen in to the two controllers conversation, though they couldn't hear anything from Sir Topham Hatts end. "They just finished with Gordon's surgery"? "You just heard from the steam works"? Mr. Percival continued to listen to Sir Topham Hatt, a smile soon spreading on his face. "That's great sir"! "Yes, I'll let them know right away"! Mr. Percival said as he hung up the phone. The thin controller quickly rushed over to the stations P.A. system, confusing the staff. He switched it on and began to speak. "Attention, attention, to all engines and passengers, we have just received an update from Sir Topham Hatt." Mr. Percival's voice rang out from the speakers. Every engine and passenger within ear shot quickly came to a halt and turned their attention to Knapford station. "We are very happy to announce that the North Western's number four express engine Gordon has had a successful surgery and is in recovery"! Mr. Percival announced. The station immediately erupted in cheers and happy whistles. Both engines and humans rejoiced at the news. "Alright, alright, settle down, we still have a railway to run, but engines are encouraged to spread this news to the rest of Sodor. With that being said, let's get back to work." Mr. Percival responded. And so, the engines who were at Knapford headed put to tell the others about the good news. At Vicarstown, Flying Scotsman was in the middle of unloading his passengers from the mainland when the little diesel boxcar Philip came rushing in, nearly colliding into the famous engine. "Philip be careful! You nearly ran into my passengers"! Scotsman scolded. "Oh no! I'm so sorry Scotsman. I was too focused on finding you to tell you about the update we just got from Mr. Percival and Sir Topham Hatt"! Philip apologized. "News? Does it have anything to do with Gordon? Are there any updates about his condition? Is he alright"? Scotsman asked in anxious anticipation. "Yes, we have an update! Sir Topham Hatt says: Gordon the big engine has had a successful operation and is in recovery! Gordon the big engine has had a successful operation and is in recovery"! Philip said in sync with an announcement from the Vicarstown intercom. Scotsman let out a big wheesh of steam in relief. "Thank steam"! Scotsman said. Ever since he had received the news about his brother's accident, Scotsman had been feeling like a failure as a brother. The two tendered engine had been going over Gordon and his interactions since the first time they met thanks to Sir Bertram Topham Hatt's father, Sir Charles Topham Hatt, reunited the two Doncaster brothers. Scotsman recalled the days of and up to the great race, and all of the teasing he had done to Gordon. He wondered if he hadn't said those things if it would've prevented Gordon from hastily streamlining himself and leaving behind his safety valve. Scotsman felt great shame for focusing more on the race than stopping his brother from overheating and exploding. Just the memory of that day sent a shiver to Scotsman's firebox. He could've lost his brother that day and to Scotsman it would've been his fault. Philip saw what had happened at the race and knew that Scotsman was going through a lot of inner turmoil over what had happened that day and what was happening currently. So, the little diesel spoke up. "I'm sure Gordon will appreciate you being here right now. Why don't you go check in on him? I'll take care of your coaches for you." Philip offered. Scotsman gave the little diesel a small smile. "Thank you, Philip, I think I will." Scotsman said as he uncoupled from his coaches. Philip smiled back. "Anytime Scotsman, tell Gordon I said hello and that everyone hopes he feels better soon"! Philip called out to a departing Scotsman. Scotsman blew his whistle in response as he made his way towards the steamworks. "What do you mean Sir Topham Hatt isn't allowing Gordon to have visitors at this moment?! I'm his brother for goodness sake"! Scotsman's voice boomed. The big mainland engine had just arrived at the steamworks and was trying to enter the building but had been stopped by Victor and Kevin. "I'm sorry friend, but Sir Topham Hatt asked us to not let anyone see Gordon right now until he is ready to fully explain what is going on." Victor replied. "Why would the Fat Controller need to wait to explain something to us? Everyone already knows what happened and that Gordon made it through! What more can there be to this ordeal"?! Scotsman angrily steamed. Scotsman's outburst had frightened Kevin, which caused him to back into a stack of empty crates. The crates tumbled over onto the track, blocking Scotsman's path further into the steamworks. The larger engine came to a stop, his attention drawn to the fallen opened crates before him. A logo on one of the crates had caught Scotsman's attention, it read "Little Tykes amusement park". That name was familiar to Scotsman who immediately confronted the narrow- gauge engine on it. "Victor, tell me Sir Topham Hatt didn't." Scotsman said horrified. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait a while Scotsman, Sir Topham Hatt promised that he would explain everything by the end of the week." Victor responded. Scotsman wanted to argue more, but Victor advised against it as confronting Sir Topham Hatt might add on extra stress to an already exhausted Gordon. Not wanting to cause his brother any more grief, Scotsman agreed to drop the subject and wait. It felt agonizingly long, but slowly and surely the days moved on, getting closer and closer to the day Sir Topham Hatt would supposedly tell them what was going on with Gordon. It was the day before Sir Topham Hatt's update, and Scotsman had found himself working with Spencer running the express. The two tendered engine was waiting at Knapford for Spencer. Toby was unloading passengers from Henrietta. Percy entered the station looking very confused. “Is Sir Topham Hatt and Lady Hatt having a baby”? Percy asked out of the blue. This question caught the engines and coach off guard. “A baby”? Scotsman stuttered. “Percy, whatever gave you that idea”? Henrietta asked. “Well, I was in the shunting yards organizing James’s goods trains when I overheard Dowager Hatt’s friends asking Dowager Hatt about a crib they saw in the back of her car during her drive to Sir Topham Hatt’s house yesterday.” Percy replied. “This is the first time we’re hearing about it. Usually when the Hatt family is expecting they’ll tell Edward, but he hasn’t said anything about a baby.” Toby said. “You should probably check in with Edward, Percy and get the facts, we don’t want to cause an upstart for no reason.” Scotsman advised. Percy agreed and promised to let the other three know if he heard anything as he left to resume his shunting duties. Toby and Henrietta soon departed, still very confused about the whole ordeal. “A baby at a time like this? Poor Sir and Lady Hatt must be overwhelmed with Gordon and a new baby.” Henrietta said worryingly. Scotsman was soon left with his thoughts. The sight of the Little Tykes amusement park logo along with what Percy just said made Scotsman worried. “Sir Topham Hatt wouldn’t do that, would he”? Scotsman thought. Memories of what his controller back on the mainland once said swarmed in Scotsman’s smokebox. “The folks in America have found a way to save the essence of an engine, though many controversies have sprung up. The mainland thinks this method can be beneficial with preserving engines and are looking to get it approved by Parliament.” Scotsman’s controller said. It had been approved and Scotsman recalled the feelings of unease as he passed by amusement parks. When he was approaching one, Scotsman would shut his eyes shut, not wanting to see what had become of the engines who were saved. All he heard were the tiny peeps of whistles. He hoped Sir Topham Hatt hadn’t gone with that solution to save Gordon. Though Scotsman wouldn’t have to wait in anticipation for long, as Sir Topham Hatt approached him. Scotsman was surprised to see Sir Topham Hatt, even more so in the current state. The Fat Controller looked like a mess! He looked disheveled, a five-o clock shadow had grown upon his face, and there were bags under his clearly tired eyes. Even so, Sir Topham Hatt did his best to make himself look presentable. “Good Scotsman you’re still here.” Sir Topham Hatt said. “Sir is something wrong? Is everything alright with Gordon”? Scotsman asked concerned. “Everything’s fine now Scotsman. I’ve actually come by to see if you would like to, well, see Gordon.” Sir Topham Hatt asked. “Oh yes sir, please sir”! Scotsman begged. “Alright, take the track up ahead, it will take us to my house. Just puff slowly and as quietly as you can.” Sir Topham Hatt instructed. “And Scotsman, one more thing.” Sir Topham Hatt said. “Yes, sir”? Scotsman asked. “Whatever you see at my residence, please wait to respond to it until after I told the others.” Sir Topham Hatt begged. “Very well sir.” Scotsman agreed, though he already wasn’t liking what was going on. Scotsman though still followed Sir Topham Hatt’s orders and quietly made his way to Hatt manor. As Scotsman pulled up to the Hatt residence, he could see both Lady and Dowager Hatt waiting nearby. There was no sign of Gordon, only a blue pram that was being pushed by Lady Hatt. Scotsman’s worse fear was realized. The two women approached the big engine and Sir Topham Hatt, who had climbed down from Scotsman’s cab to greet the two. Lady Hatt looked up at Scotsman. “Someone’s been wanting to see you.” Lady Hatt said in a soft hushed voice. She gently pulled back the blanket to reveal the pram’s occupant. Inside was a very small tender engine, fast asleep. Its face was soft and round with rosy red cheeks. A light blue baby bonnet adorned the top of its smokebox. The tiny engine gave little coos and whimpers from time to time though the pacifier it was suckling on muffled the noise a bit.  As more of the engine was revealed, its form became recognizable even at such a small size. That last bit was soon removed to expose the tender and the number four that had been painted onto it. Scotsman was frozen in utter disbelief. They had turned Gordon into an amusement park kiddie engine.

[cerenemuxse]

TGR but There's a Roleswap - Chapter 10

Chapter 10 - The Mixed-Traffic Challenge

Pouty James (Season 20 Episode 8)

Word Count: 2,137

The story can be found at @tgr-2x5-roleswap-au for easier access.

~

As James lined up with the other engines, he was pumped with confidence. Pulling coaches and trucks was what James did for a living. This is easy, he thought, distracted enough that he was startled when a diesel shunted an extra set of coaches behind him.

With an "Omph!" James was reign back from his mind, and that's when he heard him.

"James?"

With a quick hum and his attention caught, James peered to his left and saw Edward on the other side, at the very end of the line of engines.

"It was you!" Edward exclaimed joyfully.

"I did!" James replied with surprise. He didn't recall Edward saying he was joining the competition among the many things they'd talked about two days ago.

Meanwhile, on the sidelines, the North Westerners were nervous. Though they wouldn't dare admit it to the red engine, they knew James had it. They were just concerned about James' tendency to mess up at any point.

"Come on, Jimmy," Emily whispered hastily. "You've got this! If there's any-engine that can win this, it's you."

Back in the arena, the engines and coaches just had their couplings checked over, making sure they weren't weak. When the yardmen gave the ready signal, the announcer spoke.

"Let's give one final round of applause to the participants of the first Mixed-Traffic Challenge!" the announcer exclaimed, followed by loud cheers and roars from the crowd. "Engines and crew, are you ready?"

Whistles of all different tunes shrilled throughout the arena, overpowering the obnoxious hollers that some of the crews bellowed out.

"Ready!"

James wheeshed heavily, ready to loosen his brakes.

"Set!"

His driver released the brake, along with the other drivers of other engines. All eight engines slowly crept forward, some slightly farther than others.

"Go!"

Regulators were open and the engines were off. Some had a slow start while others had a quick one. James started right smack in the middle, quickly catching up to the ones up ahead. He surpassed two engines as the engine furthest away, the Caledonian Railway Single No. 123, pulled ahead the curve and stopped once their train went past the first line, followed by a blare of a horn.

"The Caledonian Railway's ex-Number One-Twenty-Three has finished first in heading a passenger train! An impressive performance from a single!" the announcer exclaimed, his voice booming in the area. "Who will roll in second and third?"

And as soon as he finished that sentence, Edward rolled in, his line right next to the Caledonian, and came to a halt.

"One-Twenty-Three has been followed by the Furness Railway's ex-Number Twenty-One, taking second place for the Furness Railway Trust! A grand example of what 'shy steamers' are capable of!" he announced, running on the adrenaline from The Great Race and The Shunting Competition. "Followed by in-service BR Number D-S-Two-Thirty-Nine, the Southern Eastern and Chatham Railway's ex-Number Five-Twenty-Nine, taking third place for the Southern Region of British Railways! Looks like the four-leader-four-driver engines are taking their title as the most powerful engines once again!"

The announcer continued to ramble on, announcing each engine's arrival. James had landed fourth place, four spots away from last place.

"Ladies and gentlemen, that's the first section! Engines, leave your passenger trains and get your goods trains ready!" the announcer exclaimed, followed by the sound of points switching in unison.

The referee of the first checkpoint blew his whistle and waved his flags forward, walking towards the engines. All eight engines eased backward, all pumping with adrenaline.

"Ye're catching on!" hollered Edward once he set his coaches on their designated track. The Furness fella pulled forward and switched points. The exhaustion could already be heard in his voice.

"I'll catch up to you!" James exclaimed proudly amongst the noises of couplings clanking and buffers bumping into one another.

"Like tae see it!"

Quickly and smoothly, the engines were coupled to their goods train. A repeat of the callouts and signals happened, and the engines soon stormed down the tracks again.

The distance was greater than the first section, allowing slower engines to catch up to others who were pumping their pistons fast as their boilers struggled to continuously steam so strongly. The Caledonian had fallen behind quite quickly, letting James and DS239 push ahead, along with Pennsylvania Railroad No. 1223. A New South Wales Z26 class and a Bavarian G 3/4 H, both still in service, were falling behind with Edward, though the latter was able to retain fourth place when all eight engines crossed the next finish line.

The crowd roared as the voice boomed throughout the speakers. "First is D-S-Two-Thirty-Nine, followed by James and Twelve-Twenty-Three taking second and third respectively! What a fallout for One-Twenty-Three and Twenty-One, dropping four places! But, oh dear! One-Twenty-Three has dropped another placement, losing to Twenty-One. Here comes the Australian engine in sixth place, followed by the Bavarian G in seventh and Five-Twenty-Nine in eighth!" As soon as the announcer spoke his last word, DS239 whistled brightly as it began to pull its train backward, having gotten into position as swiftly as possible.

James was thrown off, having expected to wait as they did first. It was enough leeway for the other engines to take advantage and get ready. By the time James was coupled up, the Pennsylvania Railroad No. 1223 and Edward passed by.

"Keep goin', James! It's a race!" huffed out Edward as he passed by hurriedly and left James confused by the last sentence. Though the other red engine had gone by quickly, James noticed Edward's freckled cheeks burn. The words "shy steamer" rattled around his smokebox as he reversed with his train once he was ready, quickly catching up to the Furness fellow.

"Meet you on the other side!" exclaimed James.

"Soon enough!" huffed out Edward. "I will!"

As they stormed closer to the finish line, an air horn went off. "Stop the race!" exclaimed the announcer. The engines immediately pulled on their brakes, buffers bashing against one another as they came to a stop. "We have a-!"

BANG! went the first truck of the Caledonian's goods trains once a Canadian engine bashed it aside as it chased a tiny yellow boxcab diesel.

"Help!" cried out Philip as the referees started waving their red flags and blowing their whistles frantically.

James hollered out, flipping his smokebox door open. "Philip, what is wrong with you?"

"Ask that guy!" cried out Philip once again as he passed by James, being chased by Vinnie, the massive Canadian engine. The points had immediately been switched to direct to the center area, where a radio tower was located. Both engines headed straight for the turntable near it, where it hadn't been set and ready to use.

"Philip!" exclaimed James as the yellow boxcab diesel tettered over the edge and Vinnie closed in on him.

Philip was frightened as Vinnie neared him, rearing his front end, ready to shunt him off into the space of the turntable. But then Vinnie stopped as James jerked forward, lassoing his coupling onto Vinnie's back buffer beam.

"You better not go a single inch towards him, you Pacific bullhead!" James hollered out furiously as he reversed, only to struggle to pull the heavy streamlined Canadian Confederation engine.

Vinnie laughed mockingly, holding onto his brakes. "So… wanna play tug-of-war, don't cha?" he asked slyly.

Suddenly, Edward lassoed his coupling onto James' read buffer beam and hollered out, "Aye! Pull, James!"

Despite being startled, James pulled with all his might with Edward. Both engines were able to pull Vinnie far away from Philip. The former was still startled by the Victorian Scottish engine’s sudden appearance, so he was surprised even more when he was quickly hauled away.

"Points!" hollered James. One of the signalmen, confused, changed the points as the two engines continued to pull Vinnie back. “Go, Philip! Go, go, go!” yelled James as his chubby cheeks began to burn once Vinnie pulled back.

Philip quickly scuttled away, though not without taunting Vinnie.

The strain became too much so James’ front coupling snapped, letting Vinnie send himself rolling forward, derailing on the set of points, and crashing into the radio tower with a BANG!

"Take that, big bully!" yelled Philip.

James and Edward were shocked but they smiled at each other until Edward noticed something. With a gasp, Edward immediately pulled James backward, startling the slightly larger red engine.

“Whoa! What-?”

BANG! The radio tower collapsed to the ground, right in front of James, who almost jumped off his chassis. As quickly as the nearby yardman could, he shut off the power before anyone could get hurt.

“Thanks,” James huffed out.

“N-No need tae thank me. It’s whit friends ur for,” Edward replied cheerfully before fully realizing what he said. “T-Thon is if we ur!” he stammered. “...Ur we?”

“Of course-!”

“Hey!” interrupted the Canadian engine, getting the other two’s attention. “Can somebody get me some help?”

As quickly as help arrived, the arena was cleared of intruders, and James' coupling was promptly replaced, the race resumed. The engines stormed down the final stretch with James overtaking Pennsylvania Railroad No. 1223, Edward, and British Rail No. DS239. DS239 began falling behind, allowing Edward to steam past and fall behind James. The “break” had done him some good, allowing him to rest his aching pistons.

James laughed joyfully. “You’re catching up!”

“I am!” replied Edward.

The two red tender engines strayed further away from the others, nearing the finish line and laughing about. They pushed along and before they knew it, both engines passed the finish line, one mere seconds before the other.

"What a close call!" hollered the announcer. "Ex-Furness Railway Number Twenty-One has finished first place for the tender-first section, with North Western Railway Number Five right behind! Judges, it's time to start calculating those points!"

"No!" huffed Emily with a pout. "He was winning!"

"I knew he was trouble," said Philip.

Meanwhile, Edward's eyes snapped open in shock, having shut them from laughter. "I-"

"Congrats!" hollered James as they both came to a stop.

"But-!"

"And here comes the Pennsylvanian, followed by D-S-Two-Thirty-Nine, the Australian, the Caledonian, Five-Twenty-Nine, and the Bavarian G Three-Sub-Four! Folks, now we wait for the final results!"

The audience went silent as the judges mumbled to one another, mics having been turned off, and calculating the points. Steam wheeshing was the only sound that could be heard across the arena as both engines and people held their breaths.

After what seemed like ages, it took a few seconds for one of the judges to turn on their mic. "Ladies and gentlemen, engines and crews, we would like to announce the top three winners. Our first place winner, overall, goes to the Furness Railway's ex-Twenty-One, with twenty-six points."

The crowd cheered, the engines whistled, and the crews hollered. Edward's face burned with embarrassment from the sudden attention.

"In second place, we have the North Western Railway's Number Five engine, James, with twenty-five points."

The other North Westerners whistled sharply, the sound shrilling throughout the arena.

"Let's go, James!" hollered Thomas. "Top three, top three!"

"That's my little brother!" exclaimed Emily.

"Aw, by just one point!" pouted Philip.

"And taking third place is British Rail's D-S-Two-Thirty-Nine from the Southern region, also with twenty-five points," finished the judge. "Ladies and gentlemen, this has been the Mixed-Traffic Challenge!"

Cheers roared from the audience and whistles shrilled from the engines surrounding the area.

"Congratulations!" exclaimed James to the flustered Furness fella.

"T-Thank ye!" Edward managed to huff out. "Congratulations tae ye, too, James!"

"James!" exclaimed the Fat Controller as he approached the two engines. "What were you even doing here in the first place?" he asked.

James had seen this coming. It was a continuation of his conversation with his controller before the competition. "I came with Gordon's safety valve, sir. It hadn't been reassembled properly. That's why his boiler burst."

"Ah," replied the Fat Controller. Thank goodness the burst hadn't been worse, ending as a full-out boiler explosion. "Now that is being a really useful engine, James. I'm proud of you for doing so for your fellow engines. Even more with you joining the competition, because you've taken a top three!"

Just then, the rest of the North Westerners approached them from outside of the arena, on a set of tracks much closer to it. Cheers and whistles roared from the group, cheering their friend on.

"He was just doing what he does best, sir!" exclaimed Emily.

"Being the best Mixed-Traffic engine of the show!" huffed James with pride. "You're not that bad of an engine. There's more than what you can see~" he sang, peering over to Edward…

Only to see the space next to him empty.

"...Edward?" James was confused. Edward was just there moments ago. "Where did he go? He didn't even say goodbye…"

~

this is actually the longest chapter. oops-

[curiousb]

The Smith Family Album: Volume XIII

Continuing our tour of the Sanditon families, just across the road from the Bertrams live Bennet and Anna, whom we haven't seen in a very long time!

They're still uninhibited free spirits.

Anna is still the hottest girl around.

And they're still close to their extended families - Bennet's best friends have always been his cousins (Benjamin, Miles and Bertram).

Sadly, although they were close as kids, a rift has developed between him and his brother Jasper, over Bennet's continued dalliance with Sophia (the fiancée of their mutual friend Thomas).

Anna's half-sibling Louie is also a welcome visitor, and is keen to update old friend Bennet on this new phase of their life.

The pair are also starting to make headway in their careers.

With a couple of pay rises in the bag, they splash out on that Romance-Sim essential - a hot tub for the back garden.

Anna's ambition to romance the whole neighbourhood begins with fellow athlete, Philip.

The new hot tub is central to her cunning plan. What's a little snow, when there's romancing to be done?

[destinylightsup-2006]

My Naughty List for Christmas (2023)

Here are the characters I think they're naughty. (As some of them are, and bullies too)

Mr. Krabs (SpongeBob SquarePants)

Plankton (SpongeBob SquarePants)

Bubble Bass (SpongeBob SquarePants)

Hades, Pain and Panic (Hercules)

King K. Rool (Donkey Kong)

Eric Cartman (South Park)

Peter Griffin (Family Guy)

Carter Pewterschmidt (Family Guy)

Bertram (Family Guy)

Penelope (Family Guy)

Jeffery Fecalman (Family Guy)

Chili Pepper Cookie (Cookie Run)

Devil Cookie (Cookie Run)

Licorice Cookie (Cookie Run)

Twizzly Gummy Cookie (Cookie Run)

Custard Cookie (Cookie Run)

Dr. Evilglaze (Cookie Run)

Shacka Rocka (Cookie Run)

Abalone Cookie (Cookie Run)

Princess Morbucks (Powerpuff Girls)

Nui Harime (Kill la Kill)

Evelyn Claythorne (Meta Runner)

Roman Torchwick (RWBY)

Tyrian Callows (RWBY)

Cardin Winchester (RWBY)

Red Prince (RWBY)

Jacques Schnee (RWBY)

Sir Pentious (Hazbin Hotel)

Blitzo (Helluva Boss)

Verosika Mayday (Helluva Boss)

Vector Perkins (Despicable Me)

Balthazar Bratt (Despicable Me)

Scarlet Overkill (Despicable Me)

.GIFfany (Gravity Falls)

Scanty and Kneesocks (Panty & Stocking)

Flim and Flam (My Little Pony)

Cozy Glow (My Little Pony)

Storm King (My Little Pony)

Prince Blueblood (My Little Pony)

Lighting Dust (My Little Pony)

Mane-Iac (My Little Pony)

Suri Polomare (My Little Pony)

Gladmane (My Little Pony)

Sludge (My Little Pony)

Sideshow Bob (The Simpsons)

Snake Jailbird (The Simpsons)

Fat Tony (The Simpsons)

Lyle Lanley (The Simpsons)

Chick Hicks (Cars)

Gaston LeGume (Beauty and the Beast)

Lord Farquaad (Shrek)

Rumpelstiltskin (Shrek)

Big Jack Horner (Puss in Boots)

Lifty and Shifty (Happy Tree Friends)

Aku (Samurai Jack)

Bender Rodriguez (Futurama)

Gruntilda (Banjo Kazooie)

Professor Poopypants (Captain Underpants)

Nabbit (Super Mario)

Phantom of the Bwahpera (Super Mario)

Mayor Shelbourne (Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs)

Eustace Bagge (Courage the Cowardly Dog)

Bendy (Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends)

Kaos (Skylanders)

Gallaxhar (Monsters vs. Aliens)

Chris McLean (Total Drama)

Flintheart Glomgold (The DuckTales)

Bradford Buzzard (The DuckTales)

Dr. Facilier (The Princess and the Frog)

Percival C. McLeach (The Rescuers)

Lord Hater and Commander Peepers (Wander Over Yonder)

Aloysius O'Hare (The Lorax)

Harry and Marv (Home Alone)

Slappy the Dummy (Goosebumps)

Marx (Kirby)

Mr. Swackhammer (Looney Tunes)

Al-G Rhythm (Looney Tunes)

Junko Enoshima (Danganronpa)

Swagmaster6969696969 (SMG4)

Francis (SMG4)

Sir Benedict Cumbersnatch (Sunset Paradise)

Scar (The Lion King)

Starscream (Transformers)

Airachnid (Transformers)

Roger Smith (American Dad!)

Zim (Invader Zim)

M3gan

Trevor Philips (Grand Theft Auto)

Diesel 10 (Thomas & Friends)

Splatter and Dodge (Thomas & Friends)

Arry and Bert (Thomas & Friends)

Turbo (Wreck-it Ralph)

Syndrome (The Incredibles)

The Underminer (The Incredibles)

Bon Voyage (The Incredibles)

Kahmunrah (Night at the Museum)

Tighten (Megamind)

Bob Velseb (Spooky Month)

Oogie Boogie (The Nightmare Before Christmas)

NOTE: I do not own everything