#mr. stationmaster

[steam-beasts]

The Chaos Continues

Sir Topham Hatt stared silently at the sight of what he was mostly sure were his engines, hugging eachother for comfort in their strange new bodies.

Bertram had went through many things during his time as controller; nearly losing the No.1 of his railway not once, not twice, but five times. Finding out some of his diesel engines were holding some of his steam engines hostage, getting his office blown up thanks to a former Navy man, witnessing his very expensive top link express engine nearly have a boiler explosion, having to go hunt his tank engine that was kidnapped by a rally car, dealing with one of his engines having a meltdown over the changes. The last and most stressful thing he went through was being forced to watch his poor engines practically mutate into beastly creatures and abandon them for nearly two years.

Now, it was this.

You know what? He needed to sit down. Sir Topham Hatt groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose as he simply made his way back to his office, he didn't want to deal with this right now. As soon as he got there, he didn't even bother with shutting the door and sat down at his desk "...oh dear, oh dear...why do things like these keep happening..?" He groaned, rubbing his temple. Sometimes he wished he could've done more to prevent any of this from happening, but then again, how could he have known this would happen?

Before he could try to think of anything else, the stationmaster suddenly ran into his office, looking quite stressed out "Sir! There's trouble in the sheds!"

Sir Topham Hatt's eyes widened and his throat felt dry, he almost dreaded to ask, but he tried to keep his composure as he stood up "What's happening?"

The stationmaster looked very hesitant "Emily, Edward, Henry and Gordon. Th-They...well...erm" Topham walked up to him, stern but anxious. The stationmaster yelped as the stout gentleman pulled him down to eye level "My engines have what?! Spit it out, lad!"

"I believe it would be better if you saw for yourself, Sir"

________________

Down at Tidmouth, each the engines' crews were standing outside their respective engine's berth, muttering anxiously to one other. They could hear their engines letting out distressed whistles from inside, but wanted Sir Topham Hatt to see to it. Edward's oldest crew, Charlie Sand Jr and Sidney Heaver Jr noticed Thomas's new crew, Mr Conductor and Junior coming out from around the corner.

"Ah, Mr C!" Charlie exclaimed, jogging over to the pixie man "Charlie, is something wrong?" Mr Conductor asked, quickly noticing the worry."Well...yes, actually. You see, um... we're in a bit of a–"

"Oh! Are ye's on strike? I dinnae think Hattie would be too happy aboot that!" Junior interrupted cheekily, earning a small glare from Mr Conductor. Charlie rolled his eyes "No, we're waiting for Sir, actually. Because..." He then glanced at the sheds "...well, something has happened to our engines" he admitted.

"What's going on with Edward?" The conductor asked. Sidney then spoke up "It's not just Edward. Something happened to Gordon and Henry as well, and Emily too" Junior quickly frowned, now realising the matter was probably serious "They... they cannae be gaun feral again, can they? Ah thought we sorted that oot?". Charlie shook his head "No, they're mentally ok. Physically?...I'd rather not say until Sir Topham Hatt's arrived"

Mr Conductor winced and gazed over at the shut doors of Edward's berth, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Conveniently, they saw Sir Topham Hatt driving up to the sheds in his car. As soon as he parked, he came jogging out, trying to keep his hat on his head. As soon as he reached the ground of men and women before him, he took a deep breath, carefully looking at their expressions to assume the severity of the situation before speaking "Alright. What's all the fuss?"

Charlie Sand carefully approached the fat controller and guided him to Gordon's berth doors, opening the door by a few cracks "They're in here, Sir" he said quietly, worry evident on his face. Sir Topham Hatt nodded gravely and stepped inside.

He felt his heart sink to his stomach and skip a beat as soon as he saw them. Edward, Henry and Gordon had went through the same fate as Percy and the others. They were pressed up against the back wall, huddled close to each other. They stared down at Sir Topham Hatt, fear evident in their eyes.

"...Sir?" Edward whispered, the first one to say anything. Edward was quite a skinny looking creature, but he was a little bit top-heavy and quite muscular, as well as fit looking for his age, so were the other two. Though, Gordon and Henry were both on the heavier side.

"Sir...please, I-I don't know what happened to us. We were normal for one minute and the next...this" Edward explained, understandably shaken. Sir Topham put his hand up to silence him, and so he did.

"I'm not mad, Edward. Not at any of you..." he began, masking his own worry "I understand that this was out of your control, but we'll just have to make do for now. Now, where's Emily?"

Henry whimpered and pointed "She's over there, Sir..."

Topham looked over to where Henry pointed. Indeed, Emily was there, and naked. She was basically a giant naked lady. Sir Topham Hatt quickly and for Emily's sake, looked away as soon as he caught a glimpse of her body, coughing with embarrassment "Ahem! Erm...hello, Emily" he coughed.

"Oh, hello, Sir!"

Sir Topham Hatt knew this was gonna be a long week...

To be continued...

[jon-withnoh]

Danbea prompts, you say?! "There was only one bed" #3 - Person A waking up to Person B curled up and sleeping on top of them. (Tbh any of the "there was only one bed" prompts.)

Okay so this became a whole thing. Here is part one of two I hope you enjoy! (Beware, this is three thousand words long.)

Danny drew her coat around herself, shivering. It was snowing so heavily she could not see more than a few feet in front of her. Clutching her carpet bag in both hands, Danny began to move in the direction of where she suspected the stationmaster’s house to be. She had only gone a few steps when a figure emerged out of the flurry of snow around her, knocking into her with surprising momentum. 

“Oh dear,” said the figure. “I do apologise. I cannot see further than my own feet in this weather.” 

Danny stopped short. “Mrs Lacy?”

Mrs Lacy, bundled up so heavily as to be almost unrecognisable, did a double-take. “Miss Danvers. Now what on earth are you doing here?”

“Mrs de Winter sent me ahead on the train so I could meet her when she arrived.” 

“She’s driving?”

“Yes, Madam. She has an appointment in London today and will set out afterwards.”

“Hm.” Mrs Lacy’s exhale produced a small cloud of steam. “I doubt she will be able to set out in this weather. I spoke to the conductor just before the delay was announced. They have had reports of heavy snowfall all over the country, even in London.” 

Danny gave a non-comittal shrug. 

“What do you recommend we do now?” Mrs Lacy asked. 

“There is no chance of continuing our journey this afternoon?”

“I’m afraid not,” Mrs Lacy said. “There are snow drifts all along the way. They will have to wait to clear them until it stops snowing. It would be a wasted effort otherwise. I suggest we go to the village and beg for a room somewhere. Come, I shall take you under my wing, seeing as you are without your lady and I am without a maid.” 

Danny opened her mouth and closed it again. She could see blurry figures all around them, moving from the train in the direction of the stationhouse. Clearly, Mrs Lacy was not the only one who trusted the train conductor’s assesment of the situation. Danny found herself torn. What if Rebecca did set out from London and Danny was not there to receive her? Should she not try and make her way to Scotland via some other route?

Mrs Lacy had been watching her. “Miss Danvers, we are in the middle of Lancashire. We are entirely reliant on the train and the train will not depart until tomorrow at the very least. If Rebecca does arrive before us and gives you any trouble, I will personally vouch for your dedicated attempts to continue your journey.” 

Danny blushed. “Thank you, Mrs Lacy.” 

“Good girl,” Mrs Lacy said, interpreting her thanks as aquiescence. “Follow me, I have excellent directional instincts.” 

Mrs Lacy led the way through the stationhouse and into the town beyond. It was small, smaller than Kerrith or even Lanyon. Spotting the pub amongst the row of houses along King’s street was no difficult feat, though Danny kept this thought to herself. Mrs Lacy gave her a triumphant smile and pointed at the pub, picking up her stride. Danny hurried after her. The snow on the pavement had not been cleared. It was beginning to melt inside her boots. 

As soon as Mrs Lacy pushed open the worn entrance door to the pub, Danny realised that they were not the only passengers to think of taking shelter here, nor had they been the first. She watched Mrs Lacy’s smile faulter as she took in the mass of people crowded around the fire place, the bar, and the reception desk. Nonetheless, the two of them joined the queue by the desk and waited their turn. 

The woman behind the desk gave them a cheerful smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Good afternoon,” Mrs Lacy said. “We were on the train that is currently stranded at the station and would like to spend the night. What kind of rooms can you offer us?”

“Offer? You don’t suppose you were the only passengers looking for rooms, do you? I have one room available and that is it. It is small, but neat and tidy as all our rooms are. It should have twin beds. Ethel—” The woman turned and called over her shoulder. “It’s twin beds, isn’t it?” There was a call of assent from somewhere at the back of the room. “There you have it. One room, twin beds, will that suit you and your—”

“Lady’s maid,” Mrs Lacy said. “And I suppose we will have to make do.” 

“Very well then,” said the woman. “Here is your key. You’ll want to take a left at the top of the stairs and go to the very end of the corridor.”

“Thank you,” Mrs Lacy said. “Come along, Miss Danvers, I am sure we will be quite comfortable.” 

Mrs Lacy’s easy familiarity made her blush. She was used to it from Rebecca, but that was different. They had grown up together; she had taken care of Rebecca when Rebecca had still been afraid of the dark. Mrs Lacy barely knew her. Still, she followed Mrs Lacy up the stairs and down a narrow corridor with doors on either side. As the woman had said, their room was at the very end. It was much colder here than it had been downstairs, where the logs were piled high in the fireplace and there was a steady stream of hot soup and tea from the kitchens. Danny stood back as Mrs Lacy set down her suitcase and unlocked the door.

“Hm,” Mrs Lacy said. “Hm.”

“Is anything the matter, Mrs Lacy?”

Mrs Lacy thought on this for a moment. “You see, I distinctly recall that woman downstairs speaking about twin beds, and, for that matter, confirming the existence of twin beds with Ethel, whoever she is. Do step inside this room and tell me what you see.” 

Curious, Danny went to stand next to Mrs Lacy and peered into the room. It was very neat, as the woman had said, with chequered curtains and a small peat fire in the fireplace. What did not match her description at all was the bed against the righthand wall. It too was exceedingly neat with a plain coverlet and clean white sheets, but it was decidedly one bed, intended for two sleepers. Danny’s cheeks burned. 

“She must have been mistaken,” Mrs Lacy said. “I shall go downstairs and see what they can do. Maybe they can swap our room with someone else’s. There must be something they can do.”

Danny bowed her head as Mrs Lacy turned down the corridor once more. She waited until the decided clunk clunk clunk of Mrs Lacy’s boots on the stairs had faded, then stepped eagerly into the room to stand beside the fire. However long it took Mrs Lacy to rectify the situation was as good an opportunity as any to warm up. Danny set down her bag and held out her hands. She sighed as the warmth of the fire began to envelop her frozen fingertips. She closed her eyes, feeling herself come back to life. 

“There is nothing to be done.” 

Danny whirled around. Mrs Lacy had returned, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. 

“It is this or finding another place to sleep and at this rate, every establishment will be completely packed by the time we get there. If only I had some acquaintance here who I could persuade to take us in, but of course, we are in Lancashire. We shall have to make ourselves as comfortable as we can.”

That was that. Mrs Lacy set down her suitcase on the stand at the foot of the bed and began to sort through her things. Danny remained standing by the fireplace, her hands folded. She tried to conceal her horror at this development. To share a room with a woman of Mrs Lacy’s standing — would Rebecca expect her to act as lady’s maid to someone who was not Rebecca? 

Danny kept her mouth shut and her eyes fixed on the floor as Mrs Lacy made herself at home. She followed silently as Mrs Lacy suggested they go in quest of dinner and ate her soup with as little conversation as she could muster. Fortunately, Mrs Lacy did not seem to require any long speeches from her. She seemed happy enough to converse without much back and forth, though more than once Danny found herself the recipient of an amused smile. Danny kept her eyes on her soup, unwilling to interrogate why the gentle curve of Mrs Lacy’s mouth flustered her so much. Finally, Mrs Lacy set down her cup of after-dinner tea and stifled a yawn behind her hand. 

“We had better turn in,” she said. “If they do get the train up and running over night we do not want to miss it.” 

Danny made to rise from her chair, but froze midway. She had carefully avoided thinking about the issue of turning in all afternoon. To share a room with Mrs Lacy was bad enough — there would be no way of avoiding each other in such close quarters — but to share a bed? Danny had not shared a bed with anyone since childhood, and never with a stranger. Maybe she could sleep in the chair next to the bed. Surely Mrs Lacy would be relieved at the suggestion. 

“Are you coming?” Mrs Lacy was halfway across the room already, calling over her shoulder. Danny hurried after her. 

Someone had come to turn down the bed and draw the curtains while they had been at dinner. The fire had been stoked and the lamp on the bedside table turned on. It would have been quite comfortable if Danny had not been so full of dread at what was to come. 

“Well,” Mrs Lacy said, “we had better not dawdle. I will brush my teeth and then we shall see about our sleeping arrangement.” She went over to her suitcase and took out a small bag.

Once Mrs Lacy had gone to find the bathroom down the hall, Danny forced herself to move from her spot by the door. She had left her carpet bag on the chair by the bed. She opened it gingerly, knowing already that she would find nothing but a few essentials. Everything else was neatly folded away in her suitcase and that had been sent up to Scotland along with Rebecca’s luggage. 

By the time Mrs Lacy returned, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, still wearing the dress she had traveled in. 

“You haven’t changed?”

“I have nothing to change into… Madam,” she added quickly. “My suitcase was sent ahead this morning along with Mrs de Winter’s things.” 

“That is unfortunate. You’ll have to borrow something of mine then.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” Danny said decisively.

“Are you sure?”

Danny nodded. 

Mrs Lacy shrugged and turned to her suitcase. Danny averted her eyes as Mrs Lacy took out a nightgown and sat on the edge of the bed to take off her shoes. Remembering that she had brought a toothbrush, Danny stood up from the bed and excused herself to go to the bathroom. Shivering in the draughty room, Danny brushed her teeth. There was no warm water. Her shivers intensified as she washed her face. When she straightened up, her cheeks were bright red. 

Back in the little room, Mrs Lacy had finished changing. She had chosen the left side of the bed and was sitting up with her dressing gown draped around her shoulders. Danny noticed the coverlet, folded carelessly and left on the floor next to Mrs Lacy’s suitcase. 

“I hope you don’t mind my taking this side,” Mrs Lacy said. “I prefer to sleep further away from the door.”

“No, I…” Danny cleared her throat. “I don’t mind at all.” Avoiding Mrs Lacy’s gaze, she went over to the right side of the bed and sat in the chair next to it, folding her hands. 

“You cannot be serious.”

“Madam?”

“Miss Danvers, don’t tell me you mean to sit up all night in that chair?”

Danny opened her mouth, helplessly, but could not think of anything to say. 

“No, that simply will not do,” Mrs Lacy said fiercely. “You will wreck your back and resent me all the way to Scotland. I will not have that.” 

“I wouldn’t resent you.” Danny kept her eyes downcast. “But you must allow that I am doing what is right. You shouldn’t be forced to…”

“Forced? Forced? Miss Danvers, you do not think you are forcing me into anything, do you?”

“No,” Danny conceded, “but the circumstances…”

“My dear girl, if I had truly been outraged by the circumstances, I would have fought much harder to rectify the situation. My pockets might not be as deep as my brothers, but they are most certainly deep enough to find a suitable place to sleep, even in an overcrowded country inn. No, while this is inconvenient, I did not think it worth the effort to turn this whole place on its head merely so I would not have to share a room with my esteemed sister in law’s maid. Now come to bed. You will thank me tomorrow.” 

Unable to form another word of protest, Danny rose from her chair and sat on the edge of the bed. She unhooked her boots and put them closer to the fire to dry. With trembling fingers, she pulled her hair out of its twist and began to comb it with her fingers. There was movement on the other side of the bed. A moment later, Mrs Lacy wordlessly held out her hairbrush. 

“Thank you.” 

Danny wrapped her fingers around the handle of the brush. The dark wood was worn smooth, resting well in her hand. Danny brushed her hair in silence. She could feel Mrs Lacy watching her, it gave her the sensation that her skin was burning all over with a small, but strangely pleasant fire.

Hastily, Danny braided her hair and handed back the brush. 

“Thank you,” she said again. 

“If you wanted to take off your corset for the night,” Mrs Lacy said matter-of-factly, “you would be more than welcome. I won’t look.” 

Would the mortification never end? Moving as quickly as possible, Danny rid herself of the aforementioned undergarment, hastily buttoning up her dress again once it was done. Feeling rather exposed, despite the layers of fabric still covering her, Danny returned to the bed and sat on top of the covers, her back against the wooden headboard. Mrs Lacy raised an eyebrow. 

“Please,” Danny said. “You must allow me at least this. I couldn’t— with someone of your standing, it would be… please, Mrs Lacy, I will be fine.”

“Very well,” Mrs Lacy said patiently. “If you change your mind…”

“Good night, Mrs Lacy.”

“Good night, Miss Danvers.” 

The room sank into silence at once. Mrs Lacy turned onto her side and, with a small huff of exhaustion, was asleep within minutes. Danny sat up in bed, staring now at her hands, now at the fire and more often than not, she was ashamed to admit, at Mrs Lacy. She had often noticed that Mr de Winter’s sister was very handsome. Though his senior by almost a decade, her face had lost none of the youthful mischievousness that smiled down at the visitors of Manderley from pictures painted in Mrs Lacy’s youth. Her eyes were invariably kind, whether she was looking at her brother, Rebecca, or even one of the servants. In sleep, there was something else in her expression, a vulnerability Danny had never seen before. It was difficult to look away. It took an hour for Danny to convince herself that Mrs Lacy would not suddenly wake up and find Danny staring at her. Danny thought she might never look her fill. 

Before going to bed, she had wondered what it would feel like to be trapped in a room like this with Rebecca. Would Rebecca have allowed her to sleep on the bed? Would Rebecca have wanted her to? Danny could not say. Rebecca would not have looked at her the way Mrs Lacy had, though once she was asleep, Danny was certain the situation would have been the same. She would have looked and looked at Rebecca, her face as impenetrable in sleep as it was in waking. She would have warmed Rebecca’s hands during the night, leaning forward in her chair. She would have sat and burned and waited for an invitation that would not come. 

Mrs Lacy rolled over and sighed in her sleep, the covers drawn up almost to her nose. Danny’s back was aching. Moving carefully, so as not to wake Mrs Lacy, she lay down on top of the covers, first on her back and then, relenting, facing the centre of the bed. 

“Good night, Mrs Lacy,” she whispered and, pressing her eyes tight shut, drifted off to sleep. 

Danny awoke shivering. She was curled up on top of the covers, arms wrapped around her chest to trap a warmth that was not there. Her muscles felt sore from the cold. How long had she been shaking in her sleep. Danny did not notice the hand on her shoulder until it gave a gentle squeeze. She gasped in shock and turned around to find Mrs Lacy sitting up in bed with her arm outstretched. 

“Miss Danvers,” Mrs Lacy said groggily. “You’ll catch your death.” 

“Let me j-just—” Her teeth were chattering so intensely she had to break off and start again. “I will rekindle the fire.” 

“There’s nothing here to rekindle it with.”

“That f-feels like an oversight.” 

Mrs Lacy held up the bedcovers. “I would prefer if you did not freeze to death under my supervision. Rebecca would never forgive me.” 

Danny shook her head, weakly. 

“Miss Danvers, what does it matter who I am or why we are here? You can barely speak for shivering. Don’t be a fool and we will never discuss this night again.”

Danny’s eyes darted from Mrs Lacy to the empty grate and back again. It could not have been past three in the morning. It would be hours before she could go down and ask for their fire to be lit. Mrs Lacy tugged at the bedcovers, her face expectant. 

It did not feel like defeat, slipping under the covers next to Mrs Lacy. Danny was much too cold to feel anything but relief. Even under the covers, her muscles would not stop twitching. 

“There now,” Mrs Lacy said gently. She pulled up the covers to cover Danny’s shoulders, then took her dressing gown from the foot of the bed and piled it on top of Danny as well, rubbing her arm through the layers of fabric. “There now,” she said again. “That’s much better, isn’t it?”

Danny could not reply. She was beginning to feel warmer under the covers, too comfortable and exhausted to speak. Mrs Lacy seemed to understand. She lay back down, facing Danny and closed her eyes. Danny expected her to withdraw her hand now, but it stayed where it was, gently brushing along her arm. 

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023: Day 7 - Refreshment

Peter Sam and the Refreshment Lady:

Peter Sam hummed as he headed along the line, feeling better than ever. The Refreshment Lady was finally returning! She’d recently broken her leg on holiday, but her cast was off, and she had promised the little engine she would meet him up at the top station.

The little engine had really grown fond of the woman running the little café up at the top station – after their less than perfect introduction. And she was fond of him, always having ten minutes to pop out of the café and visit the little engine when he puffed through with the afternoon train. They were friends – yes, that was the word for it. Friends.

And Peter Sam couldn’t wait to see his friend and finally hear about her holiday, before she waved him off with her tea towel and went back to her café to serve the tourists cream buns and ice cream.

But… the refreshment lady looked downcast when Peter Sam arrived. “Jenny, what’s the matter?” asked Peter Sam. The refreshment lady sighed, and looked up at the little engine. “I asked to talk to you, because I have some news,” Jenny said. “Peter Sam… I’m retiring. I can’t keep doing this – I’m getting old and after I broke my leg… I guess I just realised that I’m not able to do everything I used to. I’ve bought a nice cottage overlooking the lake, and I’m talking to my daughter about handing over the café.” “Oh… oh, Jenny,” Peter Sam gasped. “I… will I still see you?” “I’ll be right along the line, don’t worry,” Jenny replied. Peter Sam put on a smile, but it felt fake, and he knew Jenny could see right through it. Nonetheless, they talked through her break, and then Peter Sam set off.

Only then did he let the tears fall. “She’s… getting old,” he whispered to himself. “She’s… retiring. But she’ll still be by the lineside…” He didn’t hum anymore, and neither did the coaches. They could tell Peter Sam wasn’t feeling up to it.

Peter Sam was there on Jenny’s last day running the little café, having been gifted the day off so he could sit up at the top station and see everyone as they said goodbye to the refreshment lady, who had faithfully served the community for decades. Peter Sam couldn’t tell if he loved it or hated it. He finally got to spend time with his friend… but it was because she was retiring.

There was no getting around the fact that the refreshment lady was getting older, and that soon she would be gone and then so would her son-in-law, who had already retired from Peter Sam’s footplate to work as a stationmaster, and Peter Sam didn’t know what to think. Everyone who had made the painful transition from his old home to his new one were leaving him, and it hurt.

It hurt that Ms Last and Mr Edwards were gone, and that Mr Sam was gone, and old Mr Hugh was now retired to a cottage and the owner was gone and it just wasn’t fair. They were gone, but still Peter Sam stayed the same.

Skarloey puffed alongside. “It’s a really curse, being as old as we are,” he said quietly. “The big engines will never understand, because they have new drivers all the time, as well as new passengers and new cleaners and new everyone. The big engines just don’t get as attached to the people on their line as we do.” “It hurts,” agreed Peter Sam. “I had friends on my old railway, but we closed before they could… could leave. And this generation – they did so much for us, to make us feel welcome and to help us fit in. Did you know Jenny set up a donation box to help raise funds to restore Granpuff?”

Skarloey raised an eyebrow – it was news to him. “She put it on her store counter; raised over a thousand pounds for us. All because she knew how much he meant to me. Is it wrong for me to not want to let go? I just want everything to stay the same, but it doesn’t, and sometimes I just want it all to stop for a moment, just a moment.”

Skarloey didn’t reply. He just smiled softly at his friend and puffed away. There was nothing he could do; this was the engines’ curse, and as much as it hurt to see Peter Sam suffer it, he knew that the little engine had to weather it. He’d felt the same when Mr Bobby had passed away. The world was constantly changing, while the engines were stagnant. Forever a constant.

Jenny watched the two talk, a sad smile crossing her face. She didn’t know what to say to her old friend – sometimes, she could tell that there were some things about the engines that she would never understand.

Jenny would sell the café to her Italian friend’s daughter – a feisty young woman who made some incredible pastries. The Italian loved the fresh air and tranquillity of Sodor, and the tourists loved her pastries and homemade gelato. All the same, it wasn’t the same, and Peter Sam quietly handed his afternoon train to Skarloey. Jenny Davies – the refreshment lady – would live to the old age of eighty, but to Peter Sam it felt like she was gone in the blink of an eye. It felt that way for many of the people he knew.

It was never going to ever be the same.

Back to the Master Post

[holmesillustrations]

Vote for your favourite, the top 9 will proceed in the bracket. Since theyre all different shapes and sizes, make sure to click into the full views!

Paget Eliminations

Other Artist Eliminations

Full captions and details for each illustration below the cut:

All Sidney Paget illustrations are for the Strand Jul 1891 - Dec 1904

"All afternoon he sat in the stalls." Redheaded League Characters: Holmes

"He is a professional beggar." Twisted Lip Characters: Neville St Claire/Hugh Boone

"A house on fire?" Engineer's Thumb Characters: Watson, Holmes, Stationmaster, Bradstreet

"I am delighted that you have come down, Mr. Holmes." Silver Blaze Characters: Watson, Holmes, Insp Gregory, Col Ross

"I’ve not had my 'pology," he said, sulkily." Gloria Scott Characters: Victor Trevor, Hudson, James Trevor

"Holmes opened it and smelled the single cigar which it contained." Resident Patient Characters: Holmes

"A large rock clattered down." Final Problem Characters: Holmes, Swiss Guide, Watson

"He took us to show the spot." Hound of the Baskervilles Characters: Stapleton, Sir Henry, Watson

"He held a black boot in the air." Hound of the Baskervilles Characters: Holmes, Lestrade, Watson

"He spun round with a scream and fell upon his back." Solitary Cyclist Characters: Violet Smith, Williamson, Woodley, Carruthers, Watson, Holmes

"The door opened, and the owner of the house presented himself." Six Napoleons Characters: Holmes, Josiah Brown

"Holmes gazed at it and then passed on." Abbey Grange Characters: Holmes, Watson

[wildflower-otome]

Boris Airay: 'As I thought, in times like these, it's better to get right to it. The queen may be a high class lady, but in the end, she's still a girl.' 'I'm the type to immediately go after the girls I like. Like doing ~~~ and ~~~ right from the start.' Nightmare Gottschalk: '.....!' Boris Airay: 'So, because the rook's here.....Mr Stationmaster will probably block with his bishop, but that's all part of the plan.' 'The truth is, I can aim for the queen from here. Once the stationmaster's queen can only move forward, I'll come in from the side.....' 'From the front is fine too, but doing it from the side and back is pretty good too. Going like ~~~ and ~~~, like you're doing something naughty.....~' Boris Airay: '——Anyway, something like that? Right, Stationmaster?' Nightmare Gottschalk: '~~~-.....!!' Nightmare Gottschalk: Y-Y-You...! I can't believe you! Not only thinking something so indecent, but saying it out loud!' Nightmare Gottschalk: 'A-a-a-aren't you embarrassed, don't you feel ashamed at all-?!!' Boris Airay: 'Hm~? Not really~?'

[hunty627]

More and more stories that Grant can make up with his model trains when he rebuilds his model railway layout.

Dulcie’s ghost. Daisy the diesel railcar could see Dulcie the Great Western autocoach was feeling uneasy because she’s gone through some bad experiences with a man called Mr. Clark.

All buttered up. A new blue saddle tank engine named Rebecca came to Sodor for her first day. But she accidentally ran over some sticks of butter from the Sodor dairy. The butter made her wheels slip and slide, so she couldn’t get traction. Will she be able to solve the problem before she gets into trouble?

Madison’s motor. Madison the diesel was having trouble with her diesel motor. She had been working so hard, that she pushed it beyond its limitation. It was billowing smoke everywhere, which was bad for people’s health. Will she be able to get her motor fixed?

Intoxicated Timmy. Timmy the purple diesel was arranging freight cars in the yard, when his driver said he was running low on fuel. But being the stubborn engine he is, Timmy found he was shunting some generic tanker cars and thought they were carrying diesel fuel. But when his tank was filled with it and began to roll along, he began to feel rather uneasy. The reason why was because the tankers weren’t carrying fuel. They were carrying beer! And it got into his fuel, making Timmy feel very sick. Will the purple diesel shunter get his tank emptied and cleaned thoroughly?

Kazoos on the loose. Smokey Joe and Thomas were getting ready for the big arrival of the La-la-kazoos, a kazoo playing orchestra. Thomas was taking the players to the picnic grounds to play their music, while Smokey Joe was delivering the kazoos. But the troublesome trucks snapped the coupling and ran away with Ted the Queen Mary brake van! To make matters worse, the freight conductor had jumped clear! Smokey Joe and Thomas knew they had to work together to save the kazoos or the concert will be canceled! They had to get the conductor back to Ted so he can put on his strong brakes. But will Smokey Joe & Thomas do it in time? Find out soon!

Percy and the pizza. Percy the green engine was very excited. Reginald the baker has baked some pizza. Sir Topham Hatt has requested Percy to deliver the pizzas to the stationmasters who ordered them for their lunch. But Percy had never delivered pizza before. Will he be able to deliver the pizzas to the right stations?

Poy gives a push. Travis T. made fun of Poy for being too small for big jobs, which made her feel very sad. But when she was volunteering to work in the yard to shunt coaches, Travis got stuck on Gordon’s hill with a heavy goods train. Will Poy prove him wrong by pushing him to the top?

Boiler bother. Goliath was working exceptionally well pulling heavy freight trains across the Island of Sodor, but his boiler certificate had expired, but he was sure he can keep going regardless. But he soon got what was coming to him when he broke down due to a burst boiler tube.

[chenziee]

HIRED!

BREAKING NEWS!! Mr Absa is too busy loking for a wife to see the pure love that is IcePaulie! Poor guy... 😞

Congrats to @/annia316 on twitter for winning the @opdilfzine giveaway!

[ Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi ]

----------

text below the cut:

WATER 7, by Absa - After a long and gruelling selection process, the most sought after job offer on the entire Grand Line has finally been filled. The whole city of Water 7 was stunned when the town’s beloved mayor, Mr Iceberg, chose no one but a young—only 8 years old!—girl to be his secretary out of the hundreds of passionate, talented candidates.

Some, including the shipwright of Dock 1 Lulu as well as yours truly , have expressed slight disappointment that the gorgeous, daring candidate no.151 was left defeated, however, we are assured that this delightful young lady with her superior intellect stood (metaphorically) a head above the crowd, making her the best choice out of everyone!

Even so, during our chats with Water 7 residents, we have learned that there might have been other factors at play during the selection process.

“At least now young Paulie won’t keel over from embarrassment whenever staying at Iceberg’s place!” Mrs Kokoro, the stationmaster of Shift Station, has told us. (The author of this article believes the implication of Galley-La’s vice-president staying overnight at the mayor’s house is untrue, possibly caused by Mrs Kokoro’s… merry state.)

At the local bar, the sentiments were similar. One of the owners by the name of Kiwi just laughed when we told her the results, saying, “Finally Paulie can sleep peacefully, knowing there won’t be anyone in miniskirts waking them up in the morning.”

Her statement was met with several nods and hums of agreement form the other patrons and regular customers, reflecting the general sentiments of the water capital. Despite a few sighs about having lost some ‘damn good eye-candy’ (as stated by Mr Zambai) everybody seems happy for the new secretary, the mayor, and, curiously, his young vice-president.

So, what exactly will the first days on the job be like for the newest Galley-La employee?

Ask no further, dear readers. Despite the mayor’s schedule being kept secret for security reasons—or maybe for flexibility reasons in the not-so-rare case that Mr Iceberg suddenly decides he doesn’t feel like working—we have found the answers you seek!

Under the promise of anonymity, a reliable source who is very close to the mayor has given us information on the young lady’s first assignment—booking the best table at the city's top restaurant. Miss Chimney has also disclosed that the person Mr Iceberg is going to be dining with tonight is none other than Mr Paulie.

We hope the candlelit dinner will be a great atmosphere for the Galley-La Company’s president and vice-president to plan the company’s—and the water capital Water 7’s—bright future. All under the  watchful eye of the new, bright secretary!

→ For an in-depth interview with the new hire, proceed to page 3 → For exclusive photoshoot with the stunning applicant no.151, proceed to page 9

[jobey-wan-kenobi]

Untitled fic number 66?

This one also goes out to @weirdowithaquill!

So, this is for a fic that was meant to be a "day in the life" sort of deal, a sort of spiritual prequel to Ex Condor, but this time it is Edward in 1947.

Although it's an "ordinary day" (at least—it starts as one) there are mounting clues (and Thomas coming right out and saying it) that the engines are anxious about what nationlisation is going to mean for them. (There are rumours that the Fat Director will move to Manchester to become controller of the entire Midland region! Which is actually their best-case scenario, but still a daunting prospect.) It is also helpful to know that this is in the same universe where Topham Hatt and Charlie Sand have some mutual tension that everyone tries to shove under the rug in order to carry on with things.

This scene is technically at/right after the climax of the plot. I still plan to finish and publish the whole fic one of these days but it might be years. In the meantime, we all already knew that FC1 would retain control of the North Western even under nationalisation so how much of a "spoiler" is this? I ask you.

I also ask you to consider that early RWS!Edward — eager, childlike, and wholehearted — is really freakin' cute, and you do not want to wait years to read this.

NO ANGST. ALL CLOVER. GOOD VIBES ONLY.

---

​​The return had to be the best run of Edward’s life. Clarence hushed him a good few times, when Edward absent-mindedly began to sing; the engine had no idea how the saloon could keep so calm but he did appreciate it, for without being checked he should have shouted the news from the hilltops. The joy throughout the whole train was palpable, and he felt it in his very heat-pipes. At first he didn’t have much steam to spare for self-control or rational thought… though a good eighty or ninety miles in and it all the sudden became easy. His wheels went numb and seemed to pound along of their own accord, his heart was somewhere up in the stars, and he was simply at one with the night. 

The journey seemed to merge into eternity, and yet it was all too soon that they approached old Furness territory, came to the bridge, went through the tunnel, encountered the gradual side of their own hill. When they pulled into their own station at quarter to two, Edward felt both exhausted and sure that he could have gone twice as long. It was a wonderful heady rush. Little wonder, that it had taken Gordon two decades to stop regaling them all with reminisces of when he had been run-in on the East Coast Main Line. Edward whistled for first one triumph, and then again for the other. And then again because he was laughing and couldn’t help it. 

There had never been such a night as this. It must be a dream. It was all too good to be true. 

But controller, assistants, and crew all disembarked, and they were in just as high spirits. The small party in Clarence had evidently had a drink or three to celebrate, and Mr Hatt was remarkably light on his feet. 

On the platform, he and Mr Sand accidentally made eye contact, and Mr Sand cracked, ducking his head to partially hide a slow grin. “Well done, sir,” he said, sounding as though the words were being pulled out of him against his will, “congratulations.” And then Mr Hatt smiled too, and somehow everyone collectively burst into deep belly laughs. They all clasped hands and shoulders yet again, as if they needed the touch to be sure everyone else was real. Edward whistled again, sheerly for seeing them so happy, and even Clarence went so far as to eye the noisy little gathering with a certain benevolence. 

“Good news, sir?” enquired the stationmaster, emerging from the house, in full uniform and looking harried.

“Does it look bad?” retorted the Fat Controller, all booming merriment. “I cannot announce it tonight. But conjecture, man; conjecture!” 

“Very good, sir.” The stationmaster flashed a sincere if baffled smile of his own, but went on soberly: “I beg your pardon, sir, but we need Edward down the branch line; the harbor train still hasn’t been taken; and there’s a gentleman on the phone for you, he’s been calling every hour—”

Every other man present gave a good-natured, even rather chucklesome groan. 

“Ahh,” said one of the assistants. “Right back into it.” 

“Our carriage is about to turn back into a pumpkin,” sighed the other, amused. 

“If it’s Manchester,” the Fat Controller told the stationmaster, “then never mind. I’ve taken care of it. Tell them to read the papers tomorrow.” 

“I’m afraid it’s Ulfstead, sir.” 

The Fat Controller, still smiling broadly, sighed and ground the palms of his hands against his eyes. “And to think I fought to keep this job. Very well, stationmaster. I will be just a moment. But I must overrule your arrangements for the harbor train. This engine and his crew have earned a rest.” 

“We have a relief crew at the ready. But the loaner is still laid up, and Myron was re-routed to the mainland. There are no engines in steam to be had. If not Edward, we’ll have to ask the L.M.S. to take it—”

“Give them a last hurrah,” said Mr Sand flatly. “Makes no odds now. This engine is off-duty.” 

“No, indeed,” protested Edward, only a little breathless. “I’m up for it! That train’s none too heavy nor fast. The L.M.S., indeed!” 

Mr Sand chuckled a bit, but shook his head and sounded firm. “I know you’re flying high now. But you’re going to feel this, tomorrow.” 

“I’m sorry to contradict, driver, but that just is what it is. We can’t pass off that train, tonight of all nights.” Edward whistled without even realizing it. “The L.M.S.! To-night!” 

Everyone except the stationmaster, knowing well the source of this indignation, simply had to laugh for sheer pride all over again.

“Ahem!” the Fat Controller coughed pointedly, “I believe I am the one who makes these decisions. In fact I have a little piece of paper here that says so…” 

This time even the stationmaster genuinely smiled. The outcome of Mr Hatt’s emergency meeting was becoming more and more obvious each passing minute. 

The Fat Controller, chuckling at his own joke and his own victory, held his watch up to the lamplight, and then carefully pocketed it. “Stationmaster, tell his lordship I have just arrived and will call him back on the hour. I trust I may use your phone, and, in the meantime, my men will fill you in. We won’t say no to a little hospitality, either. Driver, Edward will take the harbor train. I assure you that I shall have his morning timetable covered so that he may have a lie-in. If you insist that only you can prepare him properly I am sure the relief won’t argue with you. And Edward—” He turned around, and added with great seriousness. “Thank you.” 

Edward blushed. It was plain that his controller was referring to more than taking on the harbor job. It was even a great deal more than simply the ride he had been given that evening. 

It encompassed all the thirty-odd years of reasons that the Fat Controller had not wanted Myron to be the engine to take him, not on this occasion, and Edward was warmed through, deeply touched. “My pleasure, sir.” 

After the Fat Controller spoke another few low words to Clarence, Edward took him away to the carriage shed. Clarence yawned a little, once they were out of sight and earshot of the lit station. Perhaps the strange comment about turning into a pumpkin had shaken him out of his usual reserve.

“That was probably the last important turn of duty I shall I ever have,” he mused aloud, as he was shunted into place under shelter. 

“Nonsense,” said Edward. “You’re wanted quite often, and there’s no new saloon coming.” 

“I said important turn of duty. I know I shall take the directors and their wives to many another picnic or club, and you will never hear me murmur a word against it. But that was the last of the backroom deals where history is written that I shall ever host.” 

“The last, and the greatest, I suppose?” 

“I did not say that.” Clarence sighed his eyes closed, but he was smiling a little too, well-satisfied with himself. “But this much I suppose I may say. It has been a fine life, collecting secrets.” 

“And never telling them,” Edward said… a little too gravely. 

Clarence, being no fool, opened one sleepy eye. 

“You’re just a locomotive. You wouldn’t understand.” 

[professorpski]

Doris Phipps and Lily-Annie Pollett, though they looked incredibly plain and depraved in oyster satin blouses, tight-seated bell-bottomed trousers, red nails on dirty hands, greasy curls hanging on their shoulders, a cigarette forever glued to their lips, were really very nice, kind girls.

This description of a pair of women train porters assigned to a town stop in England during World War II comes from the mind of the stationmaster Mr. Beedle. He, like many older people in the novels of Angela Thirkell, is upset by changes brought by the war: here, the disappearance of the squad of male porters he had commanded before the war broke out. Even though trousers make perfect sense for the physical job of hefting and toting bags and trunks, and pushing carts piled up with boxes and bags, they are part of the reason that the young women seem depraved to Beedle. And one would hardly expect their hands or hair to stay clean in the midst of all this dust and dirt.

Of course, women had been doing dirty work for time out of mind, think farm women and scrub women, and doing some of it in trousers, but that did not shake belief in the rule that women should not be wearing pants in public places. It was not until the 1960s, and only after a drawn-out public debate, that pants on women in the North Atlantic world were seen as anything but sloppy or overly sporty. So it was a big shift when by the late 1960s, women were wearing all kinds of pants whether or not they were embarked on a dirty job at a train station.

This fashion in fiction is from Growing Up published in 1943. You can find reprints of Thikell's works at Virago Books: https://www.virago.co.uk/?s=thirkell

[v-thinks-on]

The rolling English countryside faded into the distance behind us, giving way to higher, rocky crests. At last, eight hours after our departure from London, the city of Edinburgh rose up around us, and the train pulled into Waverly station, rousing Watson and I from our restless slumber. A fleeting caress coaxed me into full awareness, and I joined Watson in shuffling out of our cabin and off the train with the rest of our fellow passengers, dazed from the long journey.

What cobwebs lingered, clinging to the corners of my mind were quickly brushed away as I reflexively began to catalogue the men and women around us, picking up their luggage and ambling off to their destinations, paying each other little heed except as unexpected obstacles.

Inspector Lestrade found us in the throng, already bearing a telegram from the stationmaster. “The suspect, Mr. Marcus, won’t be leaving port for another day. Meanwhile, we’ve located whereabouts he’s staying.”

“Excellent, Inspector!” I declared. “It appears you will hardly be needing our assistance after all, but perhaps Watson and I will go and see his purported hideout in any case to see if we may find any further evidence which your men overlooked.”

I glanced at Watson and he gave an eager nod of assent, his eyes clear and bright despite the long, tiresome journey; what rest he had managed appeared to have served him well.

Lestrade gave us the address. We sent the porter on to the hotel with our luggage, and then Watson and I stepped out onto the streets of Edinburgh.

The sun had long since set on that December evening. The gas lamps flickering in the gloom were little different from our native London, illuminating the winding streets for the workmen and travellers still about despite the chill in the night air. Like them, we did not dally overlong, and as we went further from the station, into Old Town, the city grew quieter. Tall tenements lined the narrow, winding streets, nearly blocking the dark silhouettes of the hills from view. More recent edifices butted against mediaeval stone.

“Is that it?” Watson whispered, drawing even closer to me, his eyes flickering between mine and the tenement on the opposite side of the street.

“Yes,” I said into his ear, “that is the alleged spot. What do you make of it?”

“It has seen better days, but surely little can be gleaned of the inhabitants from out here?” His eyes again flitted up to mine with an incisive curiosity which has always had a remarkable effect upon my faculties, challenging me to reach a greater clarity of reason, if only that I might see his appreciative astonishment.

“The architects have been kind enough to leave us a few windows into the goings on within,” I remarked.

That earned me a reproachful look, but Watson’s curiosity easily won out, and he peered up at the tenement once more. “Do you know which window is his? Lestrade said he was on the second story.”

“By the number, I would guess the rightmost.”

Watson gave a gratifying gasp of astonishment. “The light is on, do you think he’s in there now? It’s a shame the curtains are drawn.”

“Worry not, my dear Watson.” I gave his arm a sympathetic pat. “We may be able to draw some inferences yet.”

[steam-beasts]

Oh Sheep!

December had rolled around on Sodor, and the snow was at its strongest. On the Arlesdale Railway, Diesel Junior – or "DJ" as he liked to be called – was resting in the diesel sheds at Arlesburgh West. It was early morning, but the schedules were a lot more relaxed than how they were during the autumn rush.

DJ was sitting at the very back of the shed, fast asleep and trying to keep his radiator warm. Just then, the doors slowly swung open, the chilly air sweeping in. DJ's face at the cold and opened his eyes to see Mr Fergus Duncan walking towards him.

"Good morning, DJ. Apologies for waking you" He said. DJ yawned "It's alright, Mr Duncan. Do...Do you need me to do something?" He asked tiredly. Mr Duncan hummed softly in agreement "Yes, I need you to go to Arlesdale Green to collect a left behind ballast cart. Rex forgot to bring it before going to sleep" the Small Controller explained.

DJ raised an eyebrow "Not that I'm refusing to do it, Mr Duncan. But can't one of the Blister twins do that? Or...Frank?"

Mr Duncan sighed "The Blister twins are off doing a passenger run, and Frank is away taking wool bales to market" he replied with a shrug.

"Oh, well...ok. I'll go"

Mr Duncan gently smiled, giving DJ's roof a pat "Atta boy. Off you go!" DJ lightly smiled back and watched as the Small Controller turned heel and left the shed.

Eventually, the little diesel soon set off out of the sheds and into the cold himself, wincing at the bright light after being shrouded in the dark shed.

Snow had begun to fall by the time DJ reached the Arlesburgh bridge street. He glanced at the upcoming platform to see a couple of workers shoveling away snow, and a middle aged lady. This was the Stationmaster, seemingly wanting to talk to him as she waited on the platform. DJ frowned.

"Oh no, not her!" The little diesel groaned quietly "She's always pestering me about something small and unimportant..."

He was proved to be correct as the Stationmaster took out a red flag waved him down. DJ knew he shouldn't be disrespectful despite his annoyance from her, so he slowed to a stop with a fake grin on his face, plus, she had a red flag so it was probably important... this time "Is something the matter, Mrs Stationmaster?" He asked sweetly ."Yes, you don't happen to be going towards the Marthwaite Woodland area, do you?"

"Yeah, I'm collecting a stray ballast truck down at the green. Is something wrong?" He replied nonchalantly. The Stationmaster scratched her head "Well, due to a shortage of sand, the tracks beyond the Ffarqhuarr road don't have any grit, so best be careful" she warned. DJ honked his horn in acknowledgement and continued on down the line. Once she couldn't see his face, DJ rolled his eyes "Pah, 'be careful' she said. Nonsense, the rails can't be slippy! I haven't slipped on them, neither of the twins have slipped, and neither has Frank. All that comes out of her mouth is a bunch of malarkey!" He scoffed. As he said this, a few cars on the road nearby were slipping and swerving, not dangerously of course.

By the time DJ reached the Ffarqhuarr road, the snow fall was getting heavier, and more like a blizzard. DJ had to squint a little as Farmer Willie came dawdling by with a cart packed with sheep. Willie noticed DJ and came to a brief stop "Hullo' there, DJ! You alright?"

DJ gazed up at Willie and smiled "I'm F-Fine, Farmer Willie. I'm just going up to collect a ballast truck!"

Willie hummed and nodded "Ah, ok..." he said before glancing over at his sheep. Some were asleep, some were not and simply sat in the cart...not all of them were accounted for. He then heard DJ gasp "Are those sheep?!"

Willie shook out of his small daydream "Oh, uh– yes! My boss wants me to take these little guys to the barn for winter!"

A sheep then looked over at DJ and bleated, making the diesel "Aww! Hi there!" He cooed. Farmer Willie just stared at the sheep for a solid minute before realising something "Oh yeah, uh...DJ? If you see a sheep on it's own somewhere, let me know please. It, uh... got out. It has a little bell around its neck and... it's not here..." He trailed off, staring into space.

DJ wasn't listening, he was more focused on the sheep "Look at your little faces...what were you saying, Farmer Willie?"

Farmer Willie shook his head again and scratched his head, haven partially forgotten about what he was talking about "Huh? O-Oh, erm...look out for sheep! Oh crumbs, I better get going" He muttered before driving off. DJ honked goodbye to the farmer and set off once more once the gates reopened.

DJ chuckled to himself "Hehe, sheep..."

____________________________________________

The Marthwaite Woods were littered with trees and bushes. The bare tree branches had icicles dangling off of them. The bushes were piled on with snow and the rails were all icy and slippery, but DJ didn't know this yet.

DJ honked his horn and took his time to look at his surroundings "Wow, the forest looks so mysterious during winter..." he commented to himself.

He then looked forward and remembered that Arlesdale Green was a few miles ahead. He smirked confidently and went faster up the steep track "Nearly there, nearly there" He panted eagerly.

However, the little baby diesel had to come to a stop as up ahead, a lone sheep stood on the line, using its nose and hoof to dig at the snow – presumably in search for grass. DJ skidded to a halt, clenching his teeth as his wheels slipped on the rails. He was still moving (at a more slower pace now), and was getting much closer to the sheep.

DJ frantically tried calling out to the sheep and honking "Out of the way! Out of the way!". The sheep just looked up and glanced at him with vacant eyes. DJ shut his eyes tight as he couldn't stop.

Why oh why didn't he listen to the Stationmaster?!

The sheep was unfazed as the engine ahead was skidding on icy rails towards it's direction.

Just then....

BUMP!

"Baa!"

DJ gasped from feeling the bump and whimpered, fearing what he may have very likely done. Cautiously, he opened one eye to survey the damage he had done, only to see a white furry face in his vision, lazily munching on a mouthful of grass. He then opened both eyes and sure enough, he wasn't dreaming – the sheep was okay. Thank goodness.

"Dizzy diesels...that was close" He sighed with relief. He kinda forgot he's not a big monsterous engine like his big brother, or else the sheep would most certainly become wooly paste.

The sheep bleated and sniffed at DJ, its ear twitching. DJ felt his (currently) non-existent heart melt as the sheep sniffed at him.

"Ooh, sorry about that, sheep. The rails are all icy! What are you doing out here anyway? Shouldn't you be..." he then gasped, thinking back to what Farmer Willie said.

"Oh! You're the sheep that got away!" He exclaimed. The sheep bleated and went back to chewing the little patch of grass it dug up. DJ paid no mind.

"Well, come on! We gotta get you home, and collect the ballast!"

The sheep didn't move, it paid no attention to DJ whatsoever.

A few minutes went by, and DJ huffed "Come on! Get going!"

The sheep remained on the line. DJ loved the sheep, don't get him wrong – but it won't MOVE for him! DJ thought decisively, then honked at the sheep. The sheep looked over at him, but went back to eating soon after.

DJ groaned "Oh I don't have all day!"

The sheep bleated and turned to face him, its ears flicking. This sheep was stubborn, stubborn like a troublesome truck. Maybe that's why they both look alike?

A good 20 minutes passed by, you'd think that the sheep would've moved off the line by now, NOPE! It was still there, but sitting down now.

"Pleeeaaase! Move...please, sheep?: DJ begged, but no avail.

Suddenly, an ear-piercing shriek ripped through the air, alerting both DJ and the sheep. The sheep bleated fearfully and looked around frantically. DJ gulped, doing the same thing.

"Hehe...i-its alright, sheep. I'm sure it's just a..."

An echoey roar was then heard somewhere in the distance as well as crunching snow, increasing DJ's worries "B-BEAR!" He yelled fearfully. He shut his eyes tightly like he did when slipping on the rails.

The sounds of crunching snow got closer and more clearer. DJ only feared the worst...until he heard the voice of a very tired Rex.

"Are you alright there, DJ?"

DJ's eyes shot open and he looked to the side to see Rex in his beast form, gazing at him softly with very tired eyes. The baby diesel's jaw dropped upon seeing him "R-Rex?! But... you're supposed to be hibernating!"

Rex chuckled "Well, I can't hibernate if I keep hearing you honk to your heart's delight. Remember, my hearing's a LOT more sensitive and sharper than it used to be..."

"Oh..." DJ blushed in embarrassment "...sorry. I didn't mean to"

"It's ok, kiddo. No hard feelings..." Rex assured him "...now that we have that cleared up, you appear to be in one baa-ad situation" the miniature engine teased, pointing at the sheep.

DJ sighed "Yep...I think its one of Farmer Willie's. He said something about one of them escaping"

"Escaping, eh? Lots of livestock escape here all the time. They should really improve the fences but then again...me, Bert and Mike can just ram through them" He chuckled. Rex then turned to face the sheep.

He made a little chittering noise at the sheep, leaning forward. The sheep turned to Rex with interest and bleated, walking off the track at last. DJ watched in amazement as Rex continued the chittering sound, leading the sheep into the foliage. It kinda reminded him of that evil snake from The Jungle Book, except Rex isn't evil of course!

"Wow..." he whispered. DJ soon resumed to his task; collect the ballast.

He oiled through the forest, much more carefully that time.

____________________________________________

DJ had managed to make it to the Green and was making his way back to Arlesburgh West. Along the way, he saw Rex trotting along the tracks, still looking rather sleepy. He honked "hello" to the older engine, who whistled back "Did you get the sheep home, Rex?"

"Of course! It's not like I ate it, hehe!" Rex chuffed cheekily.

"Yeah, anyway...how did you hear me all the way from the sheds in the first place?" The miniature 08 diesel asked, feeling rather curious.

"I wasn't sleepin' at the sheds, I was sleepin' in a nearby cave around here! That's how I heard you!" He laughed tiredly. DJ giggled as well, then looked over at the ballast truck "Hey, Rex? Did you know you forgot to bring a ballast truck back to the station?"

Rex frowned and raised an eyebrow. He then glanced at the truck behind the small diesel and gasped with understanding "Oh! Fire and smoke, I forgot about that one!" He groaned.

"It's alright, Rex. It's easy to forget things" DJ assured him. The small green engine smiled warmly, then walked in front of the diesel, blocking his way.

"Rex?"

Rex said nothing and gave DJ's forehead a lick, probably his own way of 'kissing' him goodnight. DJ's eyes went wide, but he grinned nonetheless as Rex chirped happily before setting off into the woods "Have a good hibernation, Rex!" He called out.

As soon as Rex left, DJ oiled away with the ballast truck. Back to Arlesburgh West he goes.

Until Spring...

[rygoespop]

Diesel 10 Returns Arc Deleted Scenes

Hey everyone, Ry here, so I thought I show you some Deleted Scenes from the Diesel 10 Returns Arc, these are scenes planned between the Prelude and Story 55 before they were cut, but now it's time to show them

Deleted Scene 1: Ryan arrives at Duck's Branchline

Time Placement: Between the Prelude and Story 50

The Deleted Scene opens with Ryan arriving at Arlesburgh Junction

Ryan: Hello Duck, Donald, Douglas, and Oliver!

Duck: Hello Ryan! What brings you here?

Oliver: Aren't you normally busy at the Harwick Branchline with Daisy?

Ryan: Normally I am, but Daisy took Sir Topham Hatt to The Mainland for a Holiday

Donald: I see

Douglas: But who's looking after us?

Ryan: Oh, Sir Topham Hatt invited a man named Mr. Evans to look after us when he comes back

Toad: Oh, how nice of Mr. Evans

Duck: Well Ryan, you are welcome to help us out!

Ryan: Oh that's wonderful!

Deleted Scene 2: Daisy leaves Knapford

Time Placement: Between the Prelude and Story 50

The Deleted Scene opens with Daisy at Knapford Station, with Sir Topham Hatt and Lady Hatt entering her with luggage

Daisy: Are we ready to go Sir?

Sir Topham Hatt: In a moment Daisy, I left something for Mr. Evans in my office

Daisy: I see

Unknown to Daisy, Diesel was hearing her and Sir Topham Hatt talking about Mr. Evans

Diesel: Mr. Evans eh? Hmmmmm

Daisy: I hope things are ok when I come back

Sir Topham Hatt: I sure hope they will Daisy, anyways time to go!

Daisy: Right! *she honks her horn as she oiled out of Knapford Station*

Diesel watched as Daisy was out of sight

Diesel: So, Mr. Evans is looking after us? Better tell Diesel 10 about this

Deleted Scene 3: Assembling the Posse

Time Placement: Between the Prelude and Story 50

The Deleted Scene opens with Diesel arriving to meet up with Diesel 10

Diesel 10: Ah, my Second in Command, so you heard that Mr. Evans is here

Diesel: Why yes, and since Sir Topham Hatt is out of the picture, it's time to assemble our Posse

Diesel 10: Yes! Time to torment those Steamies! *he clamps Pinchy*

Diesel: I'll go get Arry and Bert

Diesel 10: Very well my Second in Command, I'll get George and the Horrid Lorries to help us!

The 2 Diesels cackled as they oiled away to gather Arry, Bert, George, and The Horrid Lorries respectively

Deleted Scene 4: The Steam Team Meeting

Time Placement: Between Story 52 and Story 53

The Deleted Scene opens with the Steam Team meeting at the same location from TATMR, the ones present are Thomas, Edward, Gordon, Emily, Molly, and Rosie

Elizabeth: *honked her horn as she passes by* Smile Steam Team, it's a nice day today

Emily: It's not a nice day, I'm getting tired of Diesel 10 tormenting us

Molly: Y-yes, it's difficult for us to work

Gordon: Even when his Posse is stopping us

Thomas: He did warn us after Bertie stopped George and Bulgy

Rosie: And that was good on Bertie

Edward: Yet, Diesel 10 said he wanted to recruit a Truck with Rotten Wood and Rusty Frames

Rosie: Yeah, Toby evenly told me and Thomas about it after he delayed Diesel 10, Diesel, Arry, and Bert

Thomas: And the day that the Horrid Lorries had another set of accidents

Emily: Yeah

Thomas: R-right! I need to find out what truck is Diesel 10 talking about! *he puffs off to find an answer*

Emily: Thomas wait!

Gordon: Oh the indignity

Deleted Scene 5: Mrs. Evans Arrives on Sodor

Time Placement: Between Story 53 and Story 54

The Deleted Scene opens with Mrs. Perkins, holding the Urn filled with the Ashes of her late husband, Mr. Perkins, as she is on a platform in Victoria Station

Mrs. Perkins: I need to get back to Sodor, but there's no passenger train available

Merlin: *blew his whistle as he puffs in reverse* Oh, did you say Sonar?

Mrs. Perkins: You mean Sodor? Then yes, my name is Sheila Perkins, the Widow of Mr. Perkins

Merlin: Mr. Perkins? You mean a friend of Mr. Evans, the Stationmaster who runs every Station here on the Mainland?

Mrs. Perkins: Yes!

Merlin: Well, I'll be happy to take you to the Island of Sonar, I can't wait to see my friend Thomas again!

Mrs. Perkin: Very well *she enters Merlin's cab*

Merlin: Next stop, the Island of Sonar! *he blew his whistle and puffs off to Sodor*

Deleted Scene 6: Sir Topham Hatt Returns

Time Placement: Right at the end of Story 55

The Deleted Scene opens with Sir Topham Hatt and Lady Hatt, packing up their luggage as they enter Daisy

Sir Topham Hatt: Well, that's the end of our Holiday my dear

Lady Hatt: Indeed Topham

Daisy: Oh I hope Ryan is ok, even when you sent him on Duck's Branchline

Sir Topham Hatt: That, and I'm sure Mr. Evans has taken care of my Railway while I was gone

Sir Topham Hatt and Lady Hatt enter in Daisy

Sir Topham Hatt: Now Daisy, onwards, back to Sodor!

Daisy: Yes sir! *she honked her horn as she oiled from the Mainland back to Sodor*

The Scene transitions to Daisy oiling onto the Vicarstown Drawbridge and oiling through Vicarstown Station

Charlie: Murdoch look, it's Daisy and she's back!

Murdoch: So is Sir Topham Hatt!

Charlie and Murdoch blew their whistles to greet Daisy

Daisy: Hello boys! *she honked her horn*

Sir Topham Hatt: Now then, I got to meet Mr. Evans, and I'm sure Diesel 10 didn't cause trouble while I was gone

Thus concludes the 6 Deleted Scenes for the Diesel 10 Returns Arc in my Thomas and Friends AU

[ulkaralakbarova]

Based on the famous book by Jules Verne the movie follows Phileas Fogg on his journey around the world. Which has to be completed within 80 days, a very short period for those days. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: Phileas Fogg: David Niven Passepartout: Cantinflas Whist Partner: Finlay Currie Ralph: Robert Morley Monsieur Gasse: Charles Boyer Mr. Fix: Robert Newton Achmed Abdullah: Gilbert Roland Saloon Hostess: Marlene Dietrich Saloon Pianist: Frank Sinatra Train Conductor: Buster Keaton Proctor Stamp: John Carradine Steward: Peter Lorre Saloon Bouncer: George Raft Colonel: Tim McCoy Stationmaster: Joe E. Brown Princess Aouda: Shirley MacLaine Mr. Talley: Melville Cooper Police Chief: Reginald Denny Railway Official: Ronald Colman Denis Fallentin: Trevor Howard Hinshaw: Harcourt Williams Tourist: Martine Carol Francis Cromarty: Cedric Hardwicke Roland Hesketh-Baggott: Noël Coward Foster: John Gielgud French Coachman: Fernandel Paris Tart: Evelyn Keyes Flamenco Dancer: José Greco Abdullah’s Henchman: Cesar Romero British Consul: Alan Mowbray Steamship Company Clerk: Charles Coburn Drunk in Barbary Coast Saloon: Red Skelton SS Henrietta First Mate: Andy Devine SS Henrietta Engineer: Edmund Lowe SS Henrietta Helmsman: Victor McLaglen London Carriage Driver: John Mills Sporting Lady’s Companion: Glynis Johns Sporting Lady: Hermione Gingold Prologue Narrator: Edward R. Murrow Drunk in Hong Kong Dive: Mike Mazurki Reform Club Member: Ronald Squire Reform Club Member: Basil Sydney Bullfighter: Luis Miguel Dominguín Elephant Driver-Guide: Robert Cabal SS Henrietta Captain: Jack Oakie London Revivalist Group Leader: Beatrice Lillie Club Member: A.E. Matthews Club Member: Walter Fitzgerald Club Steward: Ronald Adam Clergyman: Frank Royde Extra (uncredited): Abdullah Abbas Extra (uncredited): Jesse Adams Extra (uncredited): Fred Aldrich Extra (uncredited): Ray Armstrong Extra (uncredited): Gertrude Astor Extra (uncredited): Walter Bacon Extra (uncredited): Rama Bai Extra (uncredited): Leah Baird Extra (uncredited): Brandon Beach Extra (uncredited): Eugene Beday Extra (uncredited): Helena Benda Extra (uncredited): Audrey Betz Extra (uncredited): George Blagoi Extra (uncredited): Eumenio Blanco Extra (uncredited): Nina Borget Extra (uncredited): Danny Borzage Extra (uncredited): Hazel Boyne Extra (uncredited): George Bruggeman Extra (uncredited): Bob Burrows Extra (uncredited): Paul Busch Extra (uncredited): Gordon Carveth Extra (uncredited): Spencer Chan Extra (uncredited): Jack Chefe Extra (uncredited): Sing Chen Extra (uncredited): Dick Cherney Extra (uncredited): Bud Cokes Extra (uncredited): Louise Colombet Extra (uncredited): Bill Couch Extra (uncredited): Paul Cristo Extra (uncredited): Roy Damron Extra (uncredited): Eddie Das Extra (uncredited): John Davidson Extra (uncredited): Jack Davies Extra (uncredited): Jack Davis Extra (uncredited): Anna De Linsky Extra (uncredited): Gloria Dea Extra (uncredited): John Deauville Extra (uncredited): Harry Denny Extra (uncredited): James Dime Extra (uncredited): Joe Dougherty Extra (uncredited): Dan Dowling Extra (uncredited): Harry Duff Extra (uncredited): Arthur Dulac Extra (uncredited): Charles Dunbar Extra (uncredited): Renald Dupont Extra (uncredited): Larry Duran Extra (uncredited): Minta Durfee Extra (uncredited): Jack Ellis Extra (uncredited): Richard Elmore Extra (uncredited): Frank Erickson Extra (uncredited): Bob Evans Extra (uncredited): Harry Evans Extra (uncredited): Franklyn Farnum Extra (uncredited): Art Felix Extra (uncredited): Grace Field Extra (uncredited): Sam Finn Extra (uncredited): Bess Flowers (uncredited): Frances Fong Extra (uncredited): Otto Forrest Extra (uncredited): Helen Foster Extra (uncredited): Jesús Franco Extra (uncredited): Ben Frommer Extra (uncredited): Curt Furburg Extra (uncredited): Joe Garcio Extra (uncredited): Joe Gilbert Extra (uncredited): Mary Gleason Extra (uncredited): June Glory Extra (uncredited): Albert Godderis Extra (uncredited): James Gonzalez Extra (uncredited): Carmelita González Extra (uncredited): Dick Gordon E...

[kwebtv]

The Railway Children - BBC - May 12, 1968 - June 23, 1968

Drama (7 Episodes)

Running Time: 30 minutes

Stars:

Ann Castle as Mother

Frederick Treves as Father

Jenny Agutter as Roberta "Bobbie" Faraday

Neil MacDermott as Peter Faraday

Gillian Bailey as Phyllis Faraday

Mary Healey as Ruth

Roy Denton as Valuer

Gordon Gostelow as Perks

Brian Hayes as Stationmaster

John Ringham as Dr. Forrest

Joseph O'Conor as Old Gentleman

Christopher Witty as Jim

John Dunbar as Mr. Willis

Colin Douglas as Farmer

Bart Alison as Signalman

Will Stampe as Engineer

[too-many-blorbos]

My favorite animals are cats in positions of authority. Larry, Chief Mouser of Downing Street. Tama, Super Stationmaster of Kishi Station. Jorts and Jean, Customer Relations and unofficial union representatives. No, they're not sapient beings. Yes, I trust them all more than I've ever trusted a human leader. Yes, you WILL respect their authority, Mrs. Puttypaws the Second is an EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT and you will call her by her proper title or face my wrath. All hail our feline overlords.

[jaketrains]

Jake & Friends: Reboot: Season 25 (2023)

Characters

Jake Heaston

Zane Heaston

Rick Heaston

Kim Heaston

Grandbo

Jeanne

Leah

Mr. Conductor (Indianapolis)

Unnamed Children

Unnamed Peoples

The Construction Workers

The Indianapolis Zoo Keepers

The Construction Workers (Does Not Speak)

Unnamed Indianapolis Zoo Keepers (Does Not Speak)

Unnamed Children (Does Not Speak)

Unnamed Peoples (Does Not Speak)

Jason (Cameo)

Mope and Paul (Cameo)

Cassie and Aml (Cameo)

Ladin and Remington (Cameo)

Tyler (Cameo)

Jenny (Cameo)

Karlton (Cameo)

Savannah (Cameo)

Quinn (Cameo)

Ryan (Cameo)

Thomas (Cameo)

Donell (Cameo)

Bradley (Cameo)

Charlie (Cameo)

The Male Bus Drivers (Cameo)

The Female Bus Drivers (Cameo)

The Train Driver (Cameo)

The Train Fireman (Cameo)

The Highway Construction Workers (Cameo)

Unnamed Indianapolis Zoo Keepers (Cameo)

Unnamed Children (Cameo)

Unnamed Peoples (Cameo)

The Highway Truck Driver (Cameo)

Unnamed Policemen (Cameo)

Unnamed Policewoman (Cameo)

Leah’s Dad (Mentioned)

Rob and Jessore (Mentioned)

Sir Topham Hatt (Mentioned)

Thomas the Tank Engine (Mentioned)

Toys R. Us Shopkeepers (Mentioned)

Characters Introduced

Unnamed Indianapolis Zoo Keepers

Unnamed Family

The Indianapolis Stationmaster

The House’s Construction Workers

The Mayor of Downtown (Does Not Speak)

The Mayor of Cumberland (Does Not Speak)

Unnamed of the House’s Construction Workers (Cameo)

Unnamed Peoples (Cameo)

Unnamed Children (Cameo)

The Indianapolis Airport Pilot (Mentioned)

The New York’s City Peoples (Mentioned)

The New York’s City Children (Mentioned)