#letters to a friend

[happyspookysteamer]

Letters to a Friend

Chapter 5

At Elsbridge, James pestered Wallace about the letter again. They had just dropped off their train, and both crews brought their engines to an empty siding for their next job. The signal man ran down to tell them that they would be waiting a while to proceed to their next job because an engine came to a standstill on their line, probably because of the frost. Until the line is cleared, they won't be going anywhere.

It wasn't as cold as it was in the morning, but frost still covered the land. Bored and curious, James wanted Wallace to finally read the letter. He didn't have to tell the young man twice, as he was dying of curiosity as soon as the letter was given to him. He had skimmed through it, but when he got it from the station master, he really wanted to read the whole thing through with Vance and James. Wallace clambered clumsily off of the red engine’s cab and stumbled all the way to his front. This was quite normal for Wallace, so James and Vance were not surprised in the slightest. Vance sat on James’s buffer, and Wallace stood in front of the two. Holding the letter as if it were some sort of scroll that had a decree from the royal family or something.

He was about to start when he stopped and looked to the back of Edward’s tender that was parked in front of them. He pointed in a questionable manner, as if asking, 'Is he allowed to listen?' Before James or Vance could respond, Edward answered for them. Well, gentleman, if I am invading your privacy, I could move to another siding, but I can't help but be curious as well after you have told me about your endeavour, but I will respect your wishes either way". Wallace was startled; he couldn't find out how he knew what he was doing, and he looked around Edward’s tender, looking for another pair of eyes that the old engine may have hidden. Vance just facepalmed, and James tried to contain a wheeze. The driver looked at his engine and nodded. He doesn't mind Edward listening. James looked between him and Wallace for a moment. If an engine could shrug, he would have, but instead he asked, "Edward? Would you like to know what is in the letter?". The old engine responded politely. "I would be delighted. Thank you, James." With that, Wallace sat on James’s other buffer and read the letter to Vance and the two engines.

Hello and Good day from France!

My name is Andreas Stark; I am 15 years old and live in France. I want to introduce myself, Mr. Marshall, who is a 45-year-old driver originally from Marquise in the northern part of France, and my father, Claus Stark, who is 38 and is also the fireman of our old engine named Leonhard. Leon is a large black 0–10-0 goods engine called the K.BAY.STS.B. class G5/5. He is partially blind in one eye from the First World War, but he is really friendly and would not harm a fly. He likes to work hard, but that often leads to him overworking himself. We all work on a railway in the southern part of France in a place called Belfort, which is close to the Swiss border.

The circumstances under which your letter fell into our hands were completely coincidental. We took a mail train that day, and your letter has fallen out of the bag and onto the floor of the mail van. When I saw the address, I first brought the letter to our administrative office. They threw the letter away, but I picked it up. I don't know why, but now I am glad I did. When I read your letter, I was very pleasantly surprised and couldn't wait to show Leon and my father the letter. Leon was as happy about the letter as I was. I immediately asked my father if we could write you a letter. Getting paper and a pen was the easiest part. My father and I also speak pretty good English, and so does Mr. Marshall, but Leon does not, but he still helped with writing by coming up with ideas of what we could write.

When we finished the letter, the biggest problem was finding a way to mail it. That is where Mr. Marshall came in. Being good friends with a postman, he managed to get some stamps and an envelope in return for a favour in the future. Mr. Marshall also came with a camera that he owns and took a photo of us after we gave Leon a wash-down, which we attached to the letter before we mailed it. If you would like to send us letters in the future, we have put down Mr. Marshall’s address so that we can get the letters directly.

We really loved hearing about you and hope to get to know each other better. Leon wants to say that he would really love to be friends with you, and so would I. We don't have that many friends anymore due to us having to flee our home, and your letter gave us something to look forward to. The days can be quite hard and repetitive, but this is something new and nice for a change. We can't wait to hear from you, and we hope the three of you, Mr. Wallace Peterson, Mr. Vance Jordan, and Mr. James, have a wonderful day.

Sincerely,

Andreas and Claus Stark, Mr. Marshall, and Leonhard

"What a lovely letter," said Edward. Wallace was giddy, happy that his idea paid off and that he has a pen pal now. Even Vance had a soft smile. He took the letter from the jumping fireman. In the envelope was a black and white photo of a large goods engine as well as two men in the cab that he assumed were the driver and fireman, Mr. Marshall and Mr. Stark. Standing on the tender of the engine stood a boy, probably Andreas, waving his arms around from the looks of it. Vance held the picture up to James’s face. The red engine cracked a smile as well. ‘They look like a nice bunch,' he thought to himself.

Vance got up and gave Wallace the picture. The ecstatic fireman takes off with the photo to show it to Edward. James and Vance heard Edward chuckle. Vance looks up at James and says, "So, what do you think? Up for another letter tonight?" James thought for a moment. At first, he didn't think much of his fireman’s idea; it was just a way to pass the time, or so he thought. Now, miraculously, it actually has someone’s attention in southern France. They wrote back… So maybe they are genuine in their interest in a new friendship? He would just have to see. To him, it's still just a letter, but he is curious about them and would like to see where this goes. "Why not? I know Wallace would be upset if we didn't," said the red engine. "We would have to see about potentially getting stamps for our new friends over in France; they seem to have difficulties in that regard," noted Vance. James had no idea where to procure stamps, but Edward suddenly spoke up. "Howard collects stamps; I’m sure he has a few extras to spare if you ask." "Thanks Edward! I’ll be sure to ask when he is back!" shouted Vance to the front, so Edward could hear him while also making the red engine wince at his volume. James thinks that wasn't that necessary since he really believes that the old engine hears better than a bat.

After some time, Edward’s crew returned with food. Vance asked Howard about some spare stamps while the crew all headed inside the station to eat. Leaving the two engines alone outside in an awkward silence. For James, it had seemed to get a little colder. The cool breeze made the red engine shiver in his frame. James looked around, unsure of what to do, and the silence started to make him a bit uncomfortable. James, I can literally hear you tense up. What's wrong? Talk to me," said Edward gently, unable to look directly at him because of the way they were arranged. James stuttered for a moment, looking at Edward or his tender. "W-well I guess I am not used to the silence," he said, more unsure of himself than usual, which did not go unnoticed by Edward.

"You never had a problem striking conversation with engines in the past; what is so different now?" said the old engine, trying to get to the bottom of the red engine’s recent strange change in behaviour. "I have had a lot of things on my mind recently. I have been having a hard time with many of the drastic changes that have happened recently. I don't really understand what is wrong with me recently or what it is that I am feeling. I’m just still trying to find my footing, Edward, nothing else'. James finished with a sigh, as if he had been holding his breath. Edward decided it would be best to leave it at that for now…

There was a bit of silence again; the only thing you could hear if you listened closely was the sound of engines in the distance, the low howl of the wind, and yard workers talking to each other further down the line. Edward, in an effort to break the silence, spoke again. "What do you think of the young boy who sent you and your crew the letter?" Edward asked instead. "Hmmm… Hm! W-what?" "In your own world, James?" he teased lightly. "N-no just… Whatever, what was the question again?" James asked, turning red at being caught zoning out. "I asked what you think of the lads in your letter." James muttered a quiet ‘oh’. "I- I think they seem like the nice sort; I’m not entirely sure what to make of them though based on that one letter; I mean, it's just a letter, right? I would hardly consider this a way to make a proper friend, not like a friendship that we have, for example, at least". " Letters have helped maintain contact with people across the world for ages. It can help form all kinds of relationships, but only if you want to. Remember James, there is a person on the other end who wrote it. Much like meeting new people, you barely know anything about them; these were more like introductory letters. Over time, you can get to know each other better and form a friendship that can last a lifetime, much like old Turner and his friend in America; he goes to visit him every year now. I don't see why you can't do the same James." Edward told the red engine. "Well, I can hardly just travel to France whenever I feel like-" "You know that is not what I meant James, give it a shot; maybe you’ll be surprised." James paused. "I guess you're right," he said, slightly resigned.

James and Edward’s crew returned shortly after having finished their meal. Wallace ran up to his engine and said, "Guess who is getting a washdown today!" James smiled widely at this news. "We’ll be taking a nice picture of you to send to Andreas." Vance followed up after catching up with his energetic fireman and trying to warm up his fingers by rubbing them together and blowing on them, causing him to puff similarly to an engine. That made James let out an amused snort. Vance continued to follow Wallace, and they climbed back into their engine’s cab. Howard and Edward’s driver stood close to the station, talking to the signal man. Howard was then the first to go over to Edward. He told both engines that the obstruction had been cleared and that it was safe to proceed to their next job. Edward was to leave for Hackenbeck, and afterwards James was to head for Knapford for another goods train. The signal went down, and Edward whistled a goodbye to James, "See you in the sheds tonight James," and he slowly steamed away. James followed soon after.

The rest of the day was rather uneventful for James, who just pulled trains back and forth, to and fro, round and about across the island for the rest of the day. As evening pulled in, James returned to Tidmouth, and the crew stopped their engine on a siding to wash him down. Men were already standing with buckets of water, soap, rags, and polish. His crew also got out to help wash their engine. James usually doesn't let just anybody close to his face after all, especially in the area where he has his scar. Wallace and Vance took off their jackets and rolled up their sleeves. For a winter day, it wasn't that cold. The sun shone softly, and the frosty rails shimmered lightly. A light, warm breeze brought in nice fresh air for James and the men. Vance wet a rag and soaped it up a bit. He climbed up to his engine’s face and started cleaning. He was especially gentle around the scar, watching the engine’s face in case his expression changed or showed any kind of discomfort. When he finished, he rubbed his engine's nose affectionately, much to his annoyance. Vance then dried off his face before climbing back down. The red engine enjoyed his washdown very much, feeling like it was a much-needed massage for his sore joints.

When the crew finished cleaning and polishing James, Vance put his jacket back on as it was getting colder again, as if Wallace’s shivering and complaining were to go off of. Remembering the picture he wanted to take for the letter, he climbed back into James’s cab to grab the camera that he had stored there during one of their stops before coming here. He was able to dash home real quick, grab some more food, greet his kids, and find his camera. He climbed back down with his camera in hand. Wallace finished with the final touches before putting his stuff back on and trying to make himself look a little more presentable. Vance asked one of the workmen to take a photo of them. He explained how the camera works and quickly rushed over to James and Wallace, who was still trying to figure out a good pose. The workman directed the men into the proper position before asking the two men and James to smile. What followed was a bright flash and a whirring sound. The workman handed the camera back over to Vance, and he thanked the workman for doing him this quick favour.

Afterwards, the men slowly backed their tired engine into his spot in the sheds. It was dark now, and the skies were clear. The crescent moon and bright stars visible in the sky are the only sources of light besides the shed lights. Gordon, Henry, Edward, and Emily were also in the sheds, having finished their duties earlier than James. Edward was the only one to greet him at first, as Gordon and Henry seemed to be either having a really loud conversation or arguing about something. Emily keeps dozing off, but she did notice James. She greeted him before yawning and finally falling asleep. She had long mastered the art of cancelling everyone’s voices out when she wanted to sleep. Henry and Gordon put a halt to their conversation when they heard Emily greet him. "Oh, hello James, how was your day?" said Gordon. "About as good as yesterday… and the day before that, and the day before that," responded James. "Well, at least the weather wasn't so bad today, and you look like you just had a washdown," noted Henry with a smile. "Thank you for noticing Henry. It was still rather chilly today, and I have been told it is going to get worse. By the way, what happened up the line in Elsbridge, where Edward was headed? We were told the tracks were blocked," asked James, to which Edward responded, "Turns out Thomas came off the rails; nothing major; they were able to get him on the rails again. He’s a bit cross, but he’ll be fine".

As the engines talked about the day's events, James’s crew dropped his fire and got him ready for the night. Vance strode up to his engine, patting him on the buffer. "Looking good Jim. Have a good night." "You too Vance, get home safely," the red engine responded. "Looking good? He’s gorgeous!" Wallace yelled, running after Vance after he had turned off the shed lights; now the moon was the only source of light aside from James's face, which was practically glowing red with embarrassment.

Henry howled in laughter, and Gordon grinned mischievously. "Well well my good engine I was not aware that we were in the presence of ultimate beauty." "Oh, leave me be Gordon," grunted James. Henry howled even louder, waking Emily. "Really? Do you have to be so loud?" she yawned tiredly. "James is gorgeous, apparently," came from the end of the shed. "Wow, what did I miss?" said the Stirling single, still a little dazed. Even she chuckled a bit. Henry was still wheezing uncontrollably, and Gordon continued to mock the red engine between his own laughter. The red engine had a grimace etched onto his face from the somewhat expected relentless teasing.

The only comforting voice came from the blue engine next to him. "There is nothing to be embarrassed about; you can just ignore their teasing; you know they just want to get under your paint." "I know Edward; I just know I won't hear the end of that one for weeks. Thanks, Wallace... He really just had to say that, didn't he? You know, I often feel like he just says things without thinking." "Well, I’m sure he did not mean to embarrass you in front of the others; from my perspective, Wallace is just a very passionate, albeit somewhat all over the place, kind of man, and I’d say you and Vance are the most important faces in his life." Edward smiled when James nodded knowingly. "You know, he once told me he does not have family anymore; he didn't tell me what happened, but he said it's kind of why he always goes out of his way to be around Vance and me. It kind of makes sense though, when you think about it. He goes home every night to an empty apartment, with no one to greet him when he gets back or someone to talk to. I remember what it is like to feel alone, so I feel for him." The thought of being alone brought memories from the red engine's past to the surface. He was not very close to his siblings on his old railway, or anybody else for that matter, but he remembers the emptiness he felt when he got the news that his class was being retired. He shook in his frame, not keen to remember those times.

"Well, let's think of it this way. I think you and your crew have a very special kind of relationship. I’m close to Howard and Robert, yes, but they are more like good friends. We still try to remain professional, and I am not that knowledgeable about their past or personal lives, though they have been my footplate crew for many years. I only know that Robert has three grandchildren, a son, and a wife. Howard is married but has never had any children; he lives in a small cottage with his wife and his nephew. Now look at Gordon's crew. Charlie is always arguing with Gordon. Or Henry's crew; Francis is still rather new as a driver and has been given an engine that needs a little more finesse while handling. Emily’s driver is a rather distant and not the most talkative man, which has led to miscommunication on quite a few occasions. From my standpoint, I believe that You, Wallace and Vance, have a unique understanding of each other's strengths and weaknesses; you work well together, and you look after and respect each other. You are more at ease with those two than you ever have been with any crew before. It's something to cherish." Edward finished.

While they spoke, the snickering from the other engines gradually died down. While Henry, Emily, and Gordon had fallen asleep, Edward and James were still up. For a while, they just looked at the night sky together, enjoying the peaceful silence. It did not make him as anxious as it did in the morning. Perhaps because James was preoccupied with thinking. He thought over Edward’s words. The red engine was remembering things again. He thought about his footplate crew. The day they met, the times they fought, the times they comforted each other, the way they would laugh together... he thought about how he absolutely loved Vance and Wallace. They treated him as a unique individual and not just another engine. They treated each other like family. Those two special men treated him better than his actual so-called family ever did. Almost everyone on this railway treated him better than the people and engines on his old railway, he thought. Especially Edward… James looked over at the blue engine and thought for a moment. He thought about how the old engine said his relationship with his crew was something to cherish. It made his thoughts wander to the engine next to him.

"Edward?" "Hmm?" the old engine looked over to James. "Do you have anyone that you especially cherish? Like with any of your footplate crew in the past or any Engines?" The old engine stared out at the sky for a moment. "Hmmm… well. I really love the many people and engines on this railway. I always felt that Thomas was like a son to me. Same with Bill and Ben. I am also especially grateful for my relationship with Sir Topham Hatt and his family. And I would like to think that The engines of this island are good friends to me. But I am closest to Gordon, Henry, Percy, Toby, and of course you, James." Edward finished with a smile. James blushed a bit and averted his gaze, which was directed intensely at the blue engine.

"But I guess you already knew that. You want to hear something different, right? I believe you want to know about those who had a significant impact on my life in my younger days, perhaps?" James nodded slowly. Edward looked up again; he seemed lost in thought. "I was once very close to a man named Johnny Bay. He was a fireman back when I was still working on the Furness Railway. I had multiple different crews depending on shifts, but John was special because he always had some snacks for the engines he was assigned to. He was closer to the engines than he was to other people. He also gave us nicknames."

"What did he call you?" smirked James. Edward laughed. "He called me Toffee." James went wide-eyed and tried to contain his laughter. "It's alright; it was meant to be funny. I used to love Toffee, and he especially got Toffee for me. There was an engine I worked with that he nicknamed Scone; another he called Pudding; another was called Tart… See a pattern? My favourite was our old shunter that he nicknamed Whisky, though that nickname was a little more problematic as a tipsy locomotive was a bit counterproductive. So John only gave him candies with small amounts of whisky. But John always loved to spend time with us; he loved to sing us drinking songs, tell us tall tales, play the occasional prank on other footplate crews, etc. He was quite agile for an old man. Every engine loved that man, and he was never unhappy, even when everyone else had no reason to be happy. He absolutely adored us engines the most. I remember a time when we were in our sheds during a particularly nasty storm. He came in completely soaked with a basket. We had a picnic of sorts. He spread a blanket on the shed floor for himself and spread some food around. He had many exotic things for us to try. Whisky apparently had a severe dislike of mangoes." Edward laughed at the memory before his smile fell. He sighed before he continued.

"I had a younger brother. Everyone called him Jr. He was named after one of our predecessors, a K1 Seagull named George. He followed me around like a lost puppy. It used to annoy me, but now I look back on those times with great fondness. He was the kindest engine in our yard, helpful, eager, smart… He was truly the best of us; he still had our typical shy steaming troubles, but he rarely ever let them show, which often led to him overworking himself, and he would also take any job given to him without complaints."

"He sounds a lot like you," smiled James. "Well, I do try to be as hardworking as he was when he was alive. I admit that when I was young, I was cocky, arrogant, and very impatient... I felt that what prompted me to change was when I had already been on Sodor and was told Jr. was in an accident and was being sent away for scrap. That really stirred something within me. I remember thinking, ‘Why him?’ He was a hard worker; why him and not me?" James looked down, and Edward sighed. He had a tired smile, and his eyes showed his age.

"Do you still feel bad?" the red engine asked carefully. "No, not that much anymore." James raised a brow in question at the response. Edward chuckled at his expression before looking back up at the starry sky. "I got to see him before they took him away, thanks to Sir Topham Hatt letting me take a train to Barrow in Furness so I could go see him before the scrap train left. He wasn't upset that he was being scrapped. He told me the only thing he regretted was not being able to spend more time with his favourite big brother." The old engine choked out the last part. He took a deep breath in an attempt to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. James grew concerned; he was unsure of what he should do, but he felt he should not say anything and interrupt his train of thought. If Edward didn't want to continue, he was sure he would say so.

"You can imagine how hard I cried," Edward said with a half-hearted smile. "I’m not even ashamed to admit it... He told me he had already come to terms with being scrapped, and he spent most of the time trying to console me. I remember constantly apologising to him for the times I mistreated or ignored him, and he just laughed it off like it was nothing; he wasn't the type to hold grudges, I guess. But before he left, he did make me promise him one thing, one thing as his last wish." "And what's that?" asked James cautiously. "He made me promise him to live a long, happy working life, find new friends, and find a new family... I promised... Then the train took him away."

The sheds were silent. Edward sighed in relief, his tense expression easing from his face. "I’m sorry, Edward." James spoke quietly; the heartbreaking story had made him emotional as well. For a while, the only thing that could be heard between the two engines was a soft, cool breeze through the yards. "Don't be! We have known each other for years now, and I do consider you to be my family. Understand that that is why I worry about you and occasionally tease you or am strict with you. I enjoy your company, and I enjoy working with you. To me, it was no big deal to tell you a personal story, especially since you asked and I trust you, so I was more than happy to share with you." He had no words for Edward's admission. To James, what he had just said was a really big deal, but he couldn't come up with anything to say. He awkwardly cleared his throat and contemplated for a bit. "I, um… I appreciate the sentiment." Edward’s expression fell a bit at that, like that was not what he was hoping for, but was quickly replaced with a smile again.

"Well, James, would you want to share anything about your past crew or your siblings?" asked the old blue engine. "Oh, well..." James tried to recall. "I was kind of an oddball amongst my siblings, and they treated me as such, either downright insulting me or ignoring me. I have had many crew members who liked me, but they were always more like colleagues than friends. Lawrence I had the pleasure of calling a friend. The war did make it so we had to trust each other, and it made me upset when I saw what it did to him. Then came Vance and Wallace. I remember at first I couldn't stand Vance; he would just bark orders and didn't consider my wishes… When it came to goods trains… Anyway, Wallace at the time was new to the yards over here, and I just remember thinking of him as a bit of a scatterbrain. He didn't annoy me as much as he did Vance… We really gave Vance a hard time, now that I'm remembering… but one night we got stuck in a siding as the switches broke and were stuck against me. Instead of just finding a place to stay, Wallace decided to stay. Vance went to find a place but then came back because he either couldn't find a place or because he felt bad. I think he felt bad because he wasn't gone for long. We just talked… all night. Vance told us about his family: his wife and kids, his parents, his siblings, yknow. Wallace told us about his travels and his difficult upbringing. He was always much more open, probably because he didn't have much to lose. I told them about the Lancaster and Yorkshire Railway, about my time on Sodor, my crash, my paintwork, and so on. We talked well into the morning when workmen came to fix the points. After that day, we had a sort of understanding, and over time, that developed into a bond, I guess... Beyond what Lawrence and I had."

Edward smiled. "Thank you for sharing with me." O- oh sure, you know, we should maybe… talk… like this more often?" The red engine stuttered, looking away. "I’d like that," said Edward with a smile. "And thank you, Edward, for sharing. I’m actually grateful," said the red engine. "Of course James, anytime. I thank you for listening. I appreciate it. Anyway, we should get some sleep. We’ll be up early again." "Yes, you're right… Goodnight Edward" "Goodnight Gorgeous." Edward snickered, backing into his sport in the shed, leaving James a spluttering mess. James just grunted in the end and backed into the shed as well. Before falling asleep, he just watched the stars for a little while longer, sighing deeply before slowly drifting off to sleep.

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

god i love my friends. shout out to people who love their friends. this is a post for friend lovers

[kaggsy59]

The sparkling correspondence of a great author - #1937Club

Today’s book for the #1937Club is one that’s long overdue some attention, lurking as it has been on Mount TBR since its reissue in 2014 (ten years ago – OMG!!!) It’s a release from indie publisher Michael Walmer, and was the first in his ‘belles-lettres’ series. A chunky and handsome volume, it’s “Letters to a Friend” by the esteemed author Winifred Holtby, and it makes absolutely fabulous…

[cosmicspacesx]

i do not know who this letter is for

i am not a delicate flower, or the relief of a gentle breeze on a blistering summer day. i am not the innocent crush accompanying young love, or the fantasies you have about the girl next door. i am not a pretty shade of pink, and i am not a ray of sunshine.

i am the midnight black ink that scribbles your most undesirable inner thoughts down in a notebook, under the flicker of a single candles light. none can see the secrets i hold, yet you burn my words away in the flame, anyways - just to be certain. you doubt my ability to hold your secrets, yet you do not realize that fear & doubt reside only within your preconceived notions.

i would willingly have burnt myself away, before i spilled your treasures for others to bear witness to. the tears rolling off your cheeks are like a fine wine that has been given to me as a sacred gift. the trembling of your voice shakes my soul as if earthquakes were to consume the entire world, within a single heartbeat. words falling from your lips crash through every wall that i have ever built, demolishing my ideas like towns underneath a wave of boulders that are falling from the highest mountains.

tell me your secrets, and they will never again see the light of day, if you so choose. in the same breath, i must tell you i am ready to take on wars for you. i will fight any burden that has ever fallen upon you, removing any trace of the aches/pains they left in your tattered heart. every enemy you've ever known will vanish - sent away to reclaim their own soul's purpose, no longer a concern for you. i will scour the earth, searching for all of your missing pieces, so that you may piece them back together in any manner of your choosing. i do not care the order in which you choose to reassemble yourself, so long as you find it in you to feel whole once more.

my only desire's are to see yours be fulfilled. i wish to be reintroduced to you a thousand times over, getting to know each and every version of you with precise detail. i want to known your shadows, your demons, your worries & fears... every bit of darkness you hold will bear witness to my light, & vice versa. i require nothing of you, other than a deep willingness to meet yourself in all versions.

[wobubling]

Tim drake outed as #1 nightwing fan

Text transcript:

Bart: Hey, Kon, doesn’t that guy remind you of Robin?

Kon: No way! Robin would never do something as geeky as wearing superhero merch! And aren’t him and Nightwing like siblings anyways?

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

Hot take maybe but I think Bertie would be FAR more likely to survive the first two months of Dracula than Jeeves would be. Bertie has a healthy sense of self-preservation. Jeeves consistently underestimates how dangerous a situation might get (Steeple Bumpleigh, the club book) because he’s overconfident about his level of control over any given situation. He'd handle Dracula masterfully if they faced off in England, but on Dracula's home turf? Much more doubtful.

I realize this might be a tough sell, so I will explain further (or it's not a tough sell, and I'm going to explain further because I want to). (criteria taken from @canyourfavesurvivecastledracula) Without further ado.

Would Jeeves and Wooster survive Castle Dracula?

Jeeves

Jeeves' survival will depend on how long Dracula finds him more entertaining than irritating. On that basis, I don't think he's long for this world. On the one hand, he has a huge wealth of knowledge about English society and culture that he can recite perfectly from memory. That should buy him at least a little time with noted teaboo Dracula.

On the other hand, he would be absolutely no fun as a vampire plaything. Jeeves cannot be got. Sneaking up on him while he's shaving will yield zero reaction (though that's at least good for his short-term survival--given that, although he DID take the crucifix from the old woman out of politeness, he certainly isn't going to wear it. The rules of fashion don't go out the window just because you're in a spooky castle). Then, although managing the whims of rich jerks is not an insignificant part of a valet's job, Jeeves usually does this by bending his employers to his will. Dracula is not the sort of employer this will work on. It'll just add insult to injury when on top of being impossible to scare, NOW Jeeves is telling Dracula that his favorite cloak is several centuries out of fashion and he's not allowed to wear it anymore.

Jeeves will 100% go exploring in the areas he was told not to go-- though to be fair, he MIGHT actually get away with this, what with his superpower of appearing in rooms without being seen or heard. Said superpower might save him from the brides as well (though this is by no means guaranteed). Since I find it doubtful that Dracula would come to rescue his annoying ass, not being noticed is his best defense.

There are a couple other things working in Jeeves's favor; the question is just whether they'll be enough to save him.

He DOES know shorthand, and could try to send coded letters. He might even have the foresight to squirrel away some extra stationary where Dracula can't find it. But could he get them posted? Would it even do him any good?

He certainly has enough cultural literacy to figure out what his new boss is pretty quickly. If he didn't chuck the crucifix out the carriage window, he might start carrying it around in his pocket.

Psychology of the individual, sure, but the individual in question is a 400-year-old vampire who lives in an isolated castle in a foreign country and is regarded as a terrifying mythological figure in the surrounding villages. Jeeves has never come up against anything this alien before, he's cut off from his normal resources, and opportunities to play people against each other are limited.

He probably has enough upper body strength from all that shrimping and fishing to climb the wall, so he COULD escape if he wanted to, if he survived long enough. It's just, again, that overconfidence, and also Dracula has a vast library full of rare old books that are entirely at his disposal. He's keeping his eyes and ears alert for potential escape strategies, of course, but I don't see him being as desperate to get out as Jonathan was.

There are just a lot of "depends on"s here, and I'm not convinced that luck would shake out in Jeeves's favor, all things considered.

Bertie

Bertie is so perfect for the job of Castle Dracula Prisoner it's like it was made for him. Think about it. Being held against his will in big manor houses comes more naturally to him than breathing. He's afraid of things that are scary. A lifetime of dealing with Aunt Agatha has made him the world's preeminent expert in "curl[ing] up in a ball in the hope that a meek subservience [will] enable [him] to get off lightly." He will NEVER go exploring in places he's been warned away from if nobody is forcing him to (Rev. Aubrey Upjohn's office notwithstanding. There were biscuits in there). He's both fun to talk to and easy to toy with (and extremely English). A+ prisoner. Dracula adores him.

In my opinion, Bertie is at Castle Dracula either because Aunt Agatha got some wires seriously crossed and thinks he’s going to meet an eligible potential bride (I mean, there are certainly brides there), or because Dracula has something Aunt Dahlia wants him to steal (far less likely, given that one of Dracula’s THINGS is famously not owning anything silver). Either way, he's shown himself entirely willing and able to escape down drainpipes if a sitch gets too scaly.

He DOES take the crucifix, and DOES wear it (which is what will save him during the shaving scene, because you KNOW he's going to jump a foot and cut himself like the dickens). He's read enough supernatural goosefleshers to be genre savvy about terrified old women cryptically pushing crucifixes into one's hands. I also think his sunny disposish endeared him to the villagers, and they were particularly vehement about urging him not to go. He doesn't speak German or Romanian, but he's empathetic enough to recognize Pure Terror. So by the time he actually gets to the castle, his imagination is already running wild and he's plenty aware that he is in imminent danger.

I think the biggest risk to Bertie will be the brides; whether or not he's susceptible to trances, if he thinks they're trying to marry him, it's against the code of the Woosters to turn them down. But that only becomes an issue if he comes face to face with them, which, luckily, I think is unlikely on account of the aforementioned "won't go exploring" (and if he did, Dracula would definitely rescue him).

I'm inclined to say due to his drainpipe-escape habits that he WOULD be able to climb the wall and MAY attempt to sneak into Dracula's room to look for the keys if his desperation grows to outweigh his fear. Whether he does or not, though, he does NOT have the stomach to attempt shovel murder, and therefore won't get magic brain fever, and may very well simply walk out the front doors when the people come to take the boxes away. OR he climbs his way out like Jonathan did. Either way.

When Bertie tells this story at the Drones later, Tuppy will say that no doubt it's been greatly exaggerated and all that probably happened was that he spent a couple months in an oldish house entertaining a weird loner.

[manonamora-if-reviews]

Neo Twiny Jam - bite-sized review

The Neo Twiny Jam (@neo-twiny-jam) is an interactive fiction game unranked jam where participants could not write more than 500 words per entry.

You can find every submitted piece on the jam's Itch Page.

=============

letters to a friend by lazyguppy

Entry - More by lazyguppy CW: depression + anxiety

Stranger, not always danger... From a simple addressing mistake, a stranger sends you letters about mundane things happening to them, their worries, and hopes. Like some sort of bizarre one-way penpal, the stranger tries to reach out to you, a shut-in, or maybe just finds comfort in the knowledge that maybe someone sees them.

[fictionadventurer]

I love libraries.

I'm browsing the WWI shelves (as you do) and notice a very old book about the war. I glance at the first pages that talk about how one day the war will be over and we'll look at this place and not see any signs of the battlefield.

Then it hits me. And I check the publishing date.

This book was printed before the war's end. Not written. Printed. The physical object was created in 1918, while the war in question was raging and the end was as yet uncertain.

Now I'm standing on the other side of the apocalypse, with this physical link to that era in my hands. I'm living proof that the war did end and life did go on and we can all look at the end of the world as a long-ago memory.

Reading old books is cool enough, connecting our minds and hearts through the ideas of people who lived long ago, but there's something extra profound about holding a copy of the book that comes from the time that it was written. It's a physical link between the past and the present connecting me to those long-ago people. A piece of the past come into the future that gives me the chance to almost take the hand of some long-ago reader, to hold something they could have held, connecting not just mentally but physically to their era, a moment of connection across more than a century.

Excuse me while I go weep.

[ascelhire]

ID: Sepia tone art of Chara and Asriel from Undertale, a signature in the middle says "@ascelhire". They are playing in a muddy flower patch filled with leaves, picking up handfuls and smiling. Text over the art reads; "I just hope" "we'll be friends" "for 999 more years". /End ID

My dear old friend, don't hurt your eyes Seeing you in all this pain hurts more than my demise Just wait, you'll see soon That it's better once you let me go and see it through

[happyspookysteamer]

Letters to a Friend

Chapter 3

Sunlight creaked through old, worn-down wooden beams. They shone on the young boy's face, and he stirred from his sleep. "Morgen," said a familiar, gentle voice. The boy grinned, sat up, and stretched. His face, clothes, and blanket were full of coal dust. A tender was not the best place to sleep, but he didn't have much alternative. He climbed down the pile of coal onto the engine's cab. "Gut geschlafen?" asked the engine kindly. "wie ein Stein," said the boy, which literally means 'slept like a rock'. The engine laughed at this. The boy climbed down and went to the front of the engine. The engine was painted black, and the once-red paint on his wheels faded. As a whole, the engine is filthy and covered in grime and dirt. He gave the boy a warm smile. The old engine also has a bad eye with a long, scarred gash that reached from the top of the engine's eyebrow to his cheek.

The boy clambered up to the engine's face and gave the engine a hug. Light snores could be heard next to the two. The engine smiled softly and looked over. Next to the old engine was another, much larger engine. Though not as old, she also looked worn and dirty. The boy went over to the large engine and also clambered up to her face. She continued to snore softly. The boy continuously poked her in the nose until she opened a tired eye. "mmmm... 5 minuten," said the large engine. He continued poking and teasing her until she smiled and finally gave in. "Morgen Andreas," she said to the boy.

The door to the old shed opened, and two men entered. The boy climbed off of the large engine and went toward one of the men, who greeted him with a hug. The man chuckled at the boy. His name was Claus; he was the fireman of the old engine and father to Andreas. He normally also sleeps in his engine, but this morning he went out to get something to eat for his son and himself. It was just a large loaf of bread with some cheese that a kind old lady gave him. Claus split the bread in half and gave his son one half and some cheese. They sat on the old engine's buffer plates and ate their breakfast. Afterwards, Claus went to heat up his engine. The second man, whom Andreas knows as Mr. Marshall, is quite new to the crew and is the driver for the old engine. He was quite kind to them and often bought the boy candy.

Now, Mr. Marshall is also French, so there is a bit of a language barrier between him and the old engine; he speaks a bit of English, but the old engine does not. Claus and Andreas do, so they always have to translate for the old engine. Andreas has been trying to teach him, but the old engine is quite stubborn at times. The large engine could speak some broken English, and that helped as her crew, both driver and fireman, were new and spoke no German. They didn't socialize much with her, just enough to get the work done. But she didn't need that, as she had the old engine, Claus, and Andreas to keep her company most of the time when she returned to their sheds.

Mr. Marshall patted the old engine while singing a song. Andreas also climbed back into the cab and sat on the engine's tender. "How are we feeling, Leonhard?" asked Mr. Marshall. Andreas translated, and Leonhard responded with a whistle. Mr. Marshall patted the old engine and opened the regulator. Claus started shovelling, and Andreas waved goodbye to the large engine. They would see her later today, but her crew always came later.

Leonhard's pistons groaned and his axels ached, though this was an everyday thing by now for him. They slowly rolled into the station, where their train awaited them. The driver stepped out to speak with some of the workers. Leonhard and Andreas could not understand them. They couldn't even make out the words on the signs at the station. They are in France after all; they fled here near the end of the war and have been here ever since. They couldn't go back, mostly because there was nothing to go back to any more, but most of all, Andreas and Claus refused to go back.

He, his son, Leonhard, and the large engine Hedwig have been helping with repairs in the region by taking goods trains to and fro. It was the least they could do; anything is better than being scrapped or homeless. The engines have been allowed to stay on the railway as temporary members of the fleet (paying for repairs, having different numbers, and having the railway's logo imprinted on their tenders). Claus and Andreas were also allowed to work for them, though for a very small wage. Claus was the only one who knew how to drive an engine like Leonhard and Hedwig, so he was the one who showed Mr. Marshall and Hedwig's crew how to do it.

There were more engines in the fleet as well, those being engines built and living in France, but except for Mr. Marshall and Hedwig's crew, they had no contact with them. When they were still new, there was the hurling of insults from both sides (especially from Claus, as he has a short temper). But now they don't even acknowledge each other unless it's business. It's not ideal, but at least everything is civil. The French engines were in no better shape than Leonhard and Hedwig; every engine is overworked and tired, practically running into the ground. One of those engines was shunting Leonhard's train before puffing past him without a word to whatever job the poor engine needed to do next.

Mr. Marshall finished speaking to the men before coming back and speaking with Claus. He sang his song before reaching the cab and climbing back inside, speaking with Claus. He sang his song before reaching the cab and climbing back inside. "We are to take the mail train to the branch line down south; after that, there will be a train of goods that need to be delivered from the harbor. We'll get more information once we get there," he said. Claus ran everything to Leonhard, and once they got coupled up, they made their way down the line.

They made multiple stops along the way, dropping off the old bags at all of the stations. When they reached the last station, one of the larger, louder, and busier stations on the line, Leonhard backed into a siding to uncouple the mail vans. Amongst the hisses of steam, whistles, and the occasional whirr of diesel engines, Leonhard carefully navigated the busy yard to find a place to refuel. The old engine was getting a drink at a water tower as the fireman's young son climbed off and onto the ballast. He always double checked the vans to see if anything was left behind; the bags were old, and it happened from time to time that letters would fly out of the bag. As one would have it, there were leftover letters. Andreas picked them up one by one and made his way to the station, where he would throw the letters into a mailbox.

With a hand full of letters, he trudged across the ballast, over the rails, and past coal towers in order to reach the station. He entered the station through a staff-only door close to the goods yard and exited on the last platform. There he weaved through passengers and station personnel to reach the stairs to get to platform 1. Once there, Andreas already knew where the mailboxes were located, as this was not his first time doing so. They were located on the very end of the first platform, where also the main entrance is; they are hung in the area where the parking lot for cars is located. He jogged over to the mailboxes, weaving through passengers and personnel; it had become routine by now. While the odd person got bumped into, the personnel of the station already knew the boy and made way for him when he made his mail run.

The boy had a habit of always looking at the addresses and stamps of the letters to see where they were coming from and where they were going before throwing them in. There was a letter from Belgium, a letter from Spain, a letter from Italy that apparently needed to get to Paris, and the last letter from a place called Sodor, some place the young boy has never heard of. The words were in English, so it really didn't narrow it down much. English is used in most letters, especially if it is for business. It had a very interesting stamp of a steam engine, and it was addressed to this railway. He looked at the letter front and back before sticking it in his pocket and heading back.

On the first platform, on his way back, Andreas passed a flower shop and a bakery. Though there were not many sweets or flowers, they were able to keep their small businesses open. Sometimes Andreas would get a crepe from the kind lady in the bakery. Closer to the front of the first platform was the main office of the station. Andreas had personally never been inside the office; he has seen Mr. Marshall and his father go in at times, but this is his first time being there.

Upon entering, he saw a man sitting at a desk looking at papers, looking rather bored. Behind the man was a wooden door with the words 'directeur ferroviaire' in big black letters, but in front of the door were piles of boxes and stacks of paper. The man looked at Andreas with an expression, saying, "What do you want?" So Andreas handed him the letter. He stood there kind of awkwardly, swaying back and forth, not leaving, as he was kind of curious about the letter but also not sure if he was even allowed to leave or not. After the man took the letter from Andreas, he opened it without much care and skimmed through it before folding it up and tossing it toward the front door that the boy came in through. "Ordures," said the man before promptly going back to his paperwork, ignoring the boy. The boy still stood there rather awkwardly, but slowly backed up toward the door. Andreas, before leaving the office, looked at the folded paper that the man had just thrown aside and deemed trash. He slowly and quietly picked it up. He looked back at the man, who still did not pay him any mind, and promptly left the room with the paper secured in his worn-out pocket.

Leonhard was already being coupled up to his next train when Andreas returned, whistling a tune loud enough for the old engine to hear him approaching from behind. Leonhard sighed appreciatively, but Claus was already growing impatient waiting on the boy. Andreas immediately apologized and explained what had delayed him. Both then climbed into Leonhard's cab, where Mr. Marshall asked pretty much the same question. "Get lost in the crowd?" he asked with a smile on his face. "No, Mr. Marshall, I had a bit of a delay because there was a letter addressed to this railway, and I had thought I could drop it off at the office here at the station," said the boy. Mr. Marshall was satisfied with the answer, while Andreas's father was still a little annoyed, being one who always looked at his timetable and tolerated no delays. "Well, young man, Just see in the future that you get back before you find us nowhere in the yard." Mr. Marshall smirked. Andreas nodded, then Leonhard buckled as a train of trucks was shunted behind the old engine. Andreas scrambled on top of Leonhard's tender, Claus got to work shovelling coal, and they were prepared to leave. Their train was given the all-clear, and Leonhard whistled as he left the station.

It was quite chilly, but there were no signs of rain. Andreas had wrapped himself in his blanket and made himself as comfortable as he could on a pile of coal. Leonhard chuffed along the main line with his slow goods; the trip was a more comfortable one, and the old engine was doing what he is most comfortable with, which is pulling goods trains. Though still creaking and groaning, the engine wore a soft smile on his face. The boy took the letter out of his pocket and started to read it. He began to smile and, on the occasional line, giggle. Afterwards, he put it back in his pocket and wrapped himself back in his blanket. He couldn't wait till the day was over so he could tell Mr. Marshall, his dad, and Leonhard about it. The letter was definitely not what he expected, thinking it was some business letter or a bill even, but he was glad his curiosity won in that moment and that he picked it up again; now he had something new to think about and possibly something new to do.

[shanksxbuggy]

I just know in one piece world the shuggy shippers go crazy over speculating. They’re in the streets having top and bottom discourse about these two.

[vmpyrgal]

ꕤ*.ﾟ❤︎ Pink stamps ꕤ*.ﾟ❤︎

[bitsbug]

Me and a friend have been developing this conlang thing for use in co-op play, both for immersion and so we don’t need to constantly pause to type things. I call it slugsign :-)

I should note that neither of us know ANYTHING about language structure or conlanging, we just developed it naturally lol.

some grammar notes:

-’punctuation’ style signs (such as ‘question’, ’attention’, ’relax’) come before the rest of the sentence. this is for clarity of intent

-’relax’ can be used to initiate longer, more complex conversations

-signs are VERY position specific. the limitations of the medium make a lot of signs look similar, so using the right starting and ending positions are important.

-’region’ specifies which region you’re referring to by the direction of your arm waggling, and the regions adjecent to the one you’re currently in. For example if you were in industrial complex and wanted to refer to chimney canopy, you’d waggle upwards.

[thefisherqueen]

Losing my mind a little over this Sherlock Holmes stamp, which was created in 1993 and depicts a scene from 'The reigate squire' short story. It's such gorgeous art. And I absolutely adore how fiercely protective Watson looks here, all like "Don't you DARE bother my friend, he's been seriously unwell, he needs REST". And his hand on Holmes' back, hello?!?!

[mournfulroses]

Fyodor Dostoevsky, from a letter featured in "Letters of Fyodor Michailovitch Dostoevsky to his Family & Friends,"

[metamorphesque]

— Franz Kafka, Letters to Friends, Family, and Editors